Bloodborne: The Endless Nightmare

You stare at the doll.

The doll stares back.

You blink.

The doll blinks.

You are unsure of what you are seeing. It seems almost impossible to believe what your eyes are telling your brain at the moment. The doll is up and moving around. It’s alive. It’s moving and talking… a-and living. It… she… it—whatever! She is standing in front of you, wearing a look of curiosity as she watches you silently have a mental breakdown. Her head tilts to the side, her cyan eyes sparkling with innocence as strands of her light blue mane fall in front of them.

This isn’t… this can’t be happening. The doll has somehow come to life. How’s that even… why is she...? Is it some form of golem spell? No, golems don’t usually have the level of emotion the doll is exhibiting; they’re mostly lifeless husks. Could it be… maybe it’s… ugh!

You stand there, covered in blood—most of which is not your own—trying desperately to wrap your mind around what is standing before you. It doesn’t make sense! Even though the doll is moving about like a real pony, you can still tell that she’s a doll: her body is still porcelain; her eyes still made of glass. She still has on the oldish clothing from before, although a pair of wings now extend from two slits in the back of the dress.

Not blinking, you lift a hoof and—after making sure that it is mostly clean of blood—nudge the doll. She sways, her wings flaring slightly to help her keep her balance, before glancing down at the place you touched. Lifting her own hoof, she gently touches the spot before glancing back up at you. As she does so, she tilts her head in the other direction, her curious expression unchanged.

Slowly, a small smile touches her muzzle.

“Hello, good Bearer,” she says, her voice soft and musical. “We are a doll.” Closing her eyes, she inclines her head in a small bow.

Your face scrunches up at her words. Yeah, no shit Sherclop; you already knew that. What you want to know is why she’s apparently alive and walking around. Especially seeing as the first time you were here she was lifeless.

The doll straightens up, her eyes opening again.

“We are here for thee,” she replies. “We are a doll, here in this dream to look after thee. That is our duty, as it has always been since this dream was created. Thou shall hunt beasts and we shall be here for thee, to embolden thy sickly spirit.”

You stare at the talking doll, your eyes wide. A dream? That’s what this place was: a dream? But if that was the case, why did the lamps teleport you here? Were… did they just put you to sleep? Is that it? Were you know lying in the middle of the chapel, fast asleep and dreaming? Could there be infected ponies creeping up on you right now, ready to finish you off?

…

No, no... that wasn’t right. This place couldn’t be a dream. You got the Saw Blade from this place, and it was with you in the city. It was real enough, as you were able to cut down a dozen or so infected ponies with it. That was no figment of a dream. But… what…?

Groaning, you lift a bloodied hoof and massage your temple. You can feel a migraine slowly coming on, the pain having started when you first entered that bloody graveyard. It had only gotten worse when the stallion had transformed into that horrid beast. This whole night has been one big mindfuck already; surely it can’t get any worse.

The doll, oblivious to your discomfort, takes a step forward. “Good, Bearer. We know that thou must be busy with thine hunt, but, should thee have a moment, we would recommend thou visit Celestia. She too was Bearer long, long ago. But now serves only to advise them. She might have some words of wisdom thou might find useful.”

Your ears perk. Somepony who might be able to help you? That… that would be wonderful. You are unsure of what a ‘Bearer’ is or why the doll keeps calling you one, but you have more pressing matters to worry about at the moment. The only question now is who’s Celestia… and where can you find her?

“She is obscure,” the doll says, “unseen in the dreaming world. Still, she stays here, in this dream. Such is her purpose, as is ours.” Turning her head slowly, the doll motions up towards the building with a hoof.

You look up as well, only to blink upon seeing that the doors to the building are open wide and a soft light shines from the windows. It appears that the owner—this Celestia—is home. If that’s the case, then she should be able to shine light on not only what this place is, but maybe even what’s going on in Canterlot. And if she can’t…

Well, at this point any help is good help.

You move to head up the stairs, but are stopped when the doll gently grabs a hold of your foreleg.

“One moment, dear Bearer,” she breaths, and her wings flutter by her sides. “Thou shouldn’t go before Celestia covered in the filth of the hunt. Please, allow us to clean thee up first.” Before you can protest, the doll takes you hoof in her own, closes her eyes, and bows her head. Her horn begins to glow softly, a white light emanating from the tip. Your hoof begins to glow as well, and you can feel a gentle warmth start to wash over your leg. It’s actually quiet pleasant.

The doll works silent for a few moments before beginning to hum. The noise is soothing, and combined with the sensation washing over your hoof, you feel your muscles begin to relax. Then, it begins to happen. Much to your amazement, the blood that coats your body starts to shimmer and ripple. As if drawn away by an invisible sponge, the crimson liquid begins to flow along your body towards the hoof the doll is holding. Within seconds you are clean again, your coat unmarred by blood or gore.

The light around the doll’s horn fades, and she releases her hold on your hoof. Opening her eyes, she gives you almost a dazed look. A small shake of her head, and her eyes focuses again. She smiles softly up at you. “Honorable Bearer… pursue the echoes and we will channel them into thy strength.”

You are unsure of what she’s talking about, but now that she mentions it, you do feel a lot better. Your body doesn’t ache as much as it did before, and your limbs no longer feel as heavy. The pressure in the back of your head also seems to have lessened somewhat, you’re growing headache fading away.

As the doll stands again, you glance down at your now-clean form, only to frown upon catching sight of the sash about your barrel. The white cloth, while cleaner than before, still has red splotches staining the silken material. Pity, it had been a nice piece of clothing.

Reaching up, you remove the sash and hold it up in front of you. The doll glances at it as well before looking down at the waist of her outfit. You blink, a faint blush touching your cheeks as you remember where it is you got the sash in the first place. Sheepishly, you give the doll an apologetic smile when she glances up at you again.

She returns the smile with a slight shake of her head. “Worry not, dear Bearer. Tis but a piece of fabric. Nothing more. It has served thee well, and that is all that matters. Though, we will take it from thee if thou are done with it.” With that, she holds out her hoof.

You give the sash one last glance before handing it over to her.

“Now, go on, dear Bearer,” she says as she holds the cloth against her chest, uncaring of the blood-stained material. “Celestia is waiting.”

Nodding your head, you turn and head up the steps to the building.

At the top of the stairs, the ornate double doors are wide open, almost like they are welcoming you inside. You oblige them, and without hesitation, step over the threshold and into the building.

...by the Maker.

The interior of the building is composed of a single room, yet it is filled to bursting. Nearly half a dozen bookshelves are lined up against the walls, their shelves cram-packed with books, tomes, scrolls, maps, and many other forms of written work. Dozens upon dozens of excess books are stacked on top of one another on the floor, creating miniature pillars of literature. Cobwebs are in abundance in the dark corners of the room.

In the gaps between the massive bookshelves other pieces of furniture rest. Crooked cabinets and shelves are packed with glass bottles and jars of different colored liquids. A large trunk rests against the right-hand wall, as does a small workshop desk that’s covered in various tools and vials. Weapon parts dangle from the ceiling above the workspace, their blades glinting in the light of the lanterns that dot the furniture. Multiple dirty green rugs cover the wooden floor.

At the far end of the room is a small platform on which a makeshift shrine has been set up. A hooded statue of a pony rests behind the altar, it’s head lowered and hidden behind the cowl. Dozens of lit candles rest upon the altar table, along with a discard golden tiara.

Everything within the place is covered by a thin layer of dust, but at the same time, the room gives off a warm, inviting feeling. It almost feels like home, and even looks like quite a few ponies have called it as such.

And there, in the center of the room, seated in a wheelchair in front of a small fireplace, is a mare.

She’s hunched over in the wheelchair, her head bowed and her eyes closed, apparently asleep. Most of her body is hidden by a brown, worn-out blanket, and there’s a crimson scarf around her neck. Even obscured by the blanket though, you can still easily tell that she is bigger than the average mare. Her coat is a pristine white, and her pink mane cascades about her neck and shoulders. A long, fluted horn juts from her forehead.

You pause upon seeing her, nervousness beginning to well up in your chest. The doll said that this mare would be able to help, but you aren’t too sure about trusting somepony in a wheelchair; the last one you encountered jabbed a needle in your leg, pumped you full of some kind of hallucinogen, and then left you for dead. Still, there’s something about the peaceful look on her face that calms you, and you step forward.

At the sound of your approach she opens her eyes, reveal orbs of deep magenta. She lifts her head, taking in her surroundings with a lidded gaze. Upon seeing you, she pauses, her mouth forming a small ‘o’, before a warm smile touches her lips.

“Ah-hah,” she breaths before wheeling her chair around to face you. Her voice is soft and melodic, although there’s a weary undertone to it. “You must be the new Bearer,” she continues. “I was wondering when you’d arrive here. Welcome to the Bearer’s Dream. I know it’s not much to look at, but this will be your home…. er, for the time being of course. I am… I’m… ugh…” She trails off with a groan and a grimace. Closing her eyes, she scrunches up her face in concentration. She remains that way for a few long seconds before she suddenly gasps and her eyes snap open again. The smile reappears. “I am Celestia, friend to your Bearers.”

There’s that title again: Bearer. First the doll, now this mare… why are they calling you a Bearer? A Bearer of what?

Celestia chuckles softly at your confusion and growing frustration.

“A Bearer of hope,” she says. “Bearers are individuals that have come to Equestria’s aid in its time of need. Ponies that have helped to uphold the tenet on which the nation was originally founded. However, not just anypony can lay claim to the title. It takes a pony of exceptional skill or resilience to truly take up the mantle of Bearer.”

You scoff at her words and shake your head. Surely there’s been some mix up. You’re not even an Equestrian citizen; you arrived in this land barely a few hours ago. She’s got the wrong pony.

Celestia just continues to smile.

“Bearers arise in times of great crisis,” she says. “And as the scourge claims the land, here you are. You might not be a fully-fledged Bearer yet, but you are definitely on your way to becoming one. You wield a Bearer’s Saw Cleaver and stand here in the Bearer’s Dream. Just because you’re not originally of Equestrian blood does not mean that you cannot be a Bearer.”

You open your mouth to protest, but her horn lights up with golden light and from within her blanket she pulls out a familiar rolled-up scroll.

“You did sign the contract,” she says, her smile turning into a smirk.

You stare at her for a few seconds before tsking softly and glancing away.

“You’re sure to be in a fine haze about now and I’m sure your questions are endless,” Celestia says as she returns your contract to the fold of her blanket, “but don’t think too hard about all of this. Just go out a kill a few infected; put them out of their horrid misery. It’s for your own good. You know, it’s just what Bearers do. You’ll get used to it…”

That’s it…? That’s all she wants you to do? Go out and kill more of infected ponies? Be a glorified killer? That can’t be right; you thought for sure there’d be more to it than that. After how much weird shit you had to put up with already tonight, there damn well better be more to it than that. What about the strange note you found with your contract? Didn’t it say to ‘seek the source of the scourge’? Isn’t that what you had been hired to do?

“The source of the scourge?” Celestia asks, her eyes widening. “My, you are an ambitious one. Most Bearers wouldn’t even dare to consider such a path. They just kill their share of the beasts then retire from this dream. To actively seek the source of the scourge… only one has attempted to do that before and she… well…” She trails off, a flash of sadness crossing her face before quickly being replaced by a cold, calculating look as she eyes you up and down.

Slowly, the smirk returns.

“Very well,” she breaths. “Seek the source of this scourge if that is your wish, Bearer. Go with my blessing. It is sure to be a long and dangerous road, but far be it from me to deny you such. However… if I may make a suggestion?” She gives you a look, to which you nod your head. “You might want to consider starting your search at the School for Gifted Unicorns. There may be something there that can point to where the scourge originated from.”

The School for Gifted Unicorns, huh? That sounds promising enough, but where in the name of existence is the school located?

“The school is at the far end of Canterlot Ward,” Celestia answers when you ask. Her horn glows and suddenly a small object is lifted off a nearby desk and tossed your way.

You catch it deftly in your own magic before closely examining the item. It’s a small cloth emblem that looks like it had originally belonged to a guard a long time ago. It is white with golden designs and trim. A stylized picture of the sun embroiders one side.

“That should make your life easier,” she says, nodding at the emblem. “There’s magic in there that you might find useful.”

You weigh the emblem for a moment before tucking it away. You’d figure out what to do with it later. For now, it was time to return to your search. As you turn to leave, Celestia calls after you.

“This was once a safe haven for Bearers,” she says, motioning around at the room. “A workshop where they used magic to enhance their weapons and flesh. Unfortunately, there aren’t as many tools as there once were, but… you’re welcome to use whatever you might find within these walls. Even… even the doll, should it please you.” A somber look crosses her face, and she sighs under her breath. “That’s why I crafted it a long, long time ago…”

You give her an uncertain look before nodding your head. With a word of thanks, you turn and exit the building.

The doll is waiting for you at the base of the stairs. Around her hooves several of the albino dragons gather, only they now are adorn in new attire: the bloodied sash the doll took from you. Having torn it into strips, the dragons have the strips wrapped about their heads and faces. They prance around the doll’s hooves, clearly pleased.

The doll puts a hoof to her lips, giggling softly. Upon seeing you, her smile grows. “Good Bearer, didst thou speak with Celestia?”

You nod, but keep your eyes on the dragons, a bemused look on your face.

The doll follows your gaze.

“Ah, the little ones,” she says. “Inhabitants of the dream, they find Bearers such as yourself, worship and serve them. Speak words, these ones do not, but still, aren’t they sweet?”

Sweet isn’t the word you’d used for the scarred little guys, but you will admit that they have a sort of charm about them. And they did help you out by giving you the Saw Blade… or as Celestia had called it, the Saw Cleaver.

Having finished with their dance, the dragons begin to disperse. Several fade back into the ground (although you have no clue how they do that) while others wander off into the gardens. Three however, shuffle over to the headstone you used to teleport last time.

Well, if it worked before, it should work again, right?

You start to head towards the headstone, but are stopped by the doll. “One moment, dear Bearer.” From… somewhere she pulls out a pile of neatly folded clothing.

“Here,” she says, presenting them to you. “These are for thee. May they offer what little protection they can, so that thou may return safely to us once more.”

Lifting the clothing in your magic, you unfold them to get a better look. The first article is a plain white undershirt, made from a soft material. A brown waistcoat-like vest is next. It’s made of a tough faux leather, and completely covered in pockets and buckles. And finally, a long black overcoat finishes the ensemble. It has a high collar, as well as an additional short cape that looked like it was to be worn around the shoulders.

You study the clothing for a few more seconds before putting them on. Surprisingly, they fit almost perfectly, almost like they had been tailored specifically for you. The collar of the overcoat goes up around your neck, almost reaching your muzzle. With it up, it hides most of your face from view.

As you finish tightening the last of the buckles, the doll pulls out one last thing: a black tricorne hat with silver trimming. There’s a hole in the front for your horn, and you bow your head, allowing the doll to place it upon your brow.

“There,” she says, taking a step back. “A true Bearer, now. May thy clothes bless thee with a safe return.”

You thank her even as you shift about, getting used to the clothing. Despite they are light, yet seem to be very durable. They should be able to protect you against most things you might encounter out there tonight, such as infected dogs, knives, and other such simple things. Though, you hope that you will not have to test out how durable it actually is.

Tucking the healing device you got from the stallion in the cemetery into one of the pockets on the vest, you then heft your Saw Cleaver onto your shoulder and approach the headstone. New words are upon the stone’s face, right below the first text.

Canterlot Ward

You reach out and touch the words, and they begin to glow. As the mist begins to waft up from the base of the headstone and obscures you from view, you hear the doll call out, “Farewell, good Bearer. May thou find thy worth in the waking world!”

With that, you’re gone in a flash of light.

—Canterlot Ward—

You reappear in the large cathedral. Moonlight is streaming in through the high windows, falling upon you as you stand there. Behind you, the dragons—now with their new bloodied headwear—group around the lantern. A thin layer of mist covers the ground.

All it quiet.

Unlike last time, you don’t hesitate. You have your objective, and you have the general direction in which you must head: the School for Gifted Unicorns. Once you get there, you will scour every inch of it until you find the information you seek. Then, you’ll track down the source of this scourge and end this horrible outbreak. You might be happy about being in this situation, but you’ve already started on this journey. You always finish what you start, no matter what.

Stepping forward, you head towards the door at the far end of the cathedral building. You don’t even try the doors located on your left and right, as thick, heavy chains adorn them; there’s no way you’re getting those open.

You step outside and are immediately greeted by the cool night air. You are in a courtyard, tall buildings towering high above you. Twisted and warped statues line the edges of the courtyard, most of them depicting cloaked ponies hunched in fear and pain. Why the architects thought that would be a good decoration idea, you have no clue, but that’s not for you to decide. This whole city seems like an architectural designer’s nightmare.

A bell tolls faintly in the distance as you step further into the courtyard. A large wooden wagon rests off to the side, full to breaking with coffins and caskets. All of them are chained shut, although some of them appear to be shifting and shaking slightly. Muffled groans and snarls come from within.

You half contemplate opening the coffins to end the miserable wretches inside, but it’s clear that somepony went to great lengths to chain the caskets, so you leave them be. Besides, it’s not like the things inside would be going anywhere; you can always come back and deal with them later.

Stepping around the rocking wagon, you note a large flight of stairs off to the side. The steps are lined more statues, some of which are holding lit candles in their outstretched hooves. Candles also dot the stairs, their flames flickering weakly in the gloomy mist. The stairs are long, and lead upwards quite a way until they reach a massive building. However, due to the fog, you can’t tell what the building is exactly. Still, it looks promising, so that’s the direction you head in.

Your hooves click against the stone as you climb the stairs. As you pass by the statues, you can’t help the uneasy feeling that slowly grows in your stomach. Each one seems more detailed than the last, their looks of fear and agony terrifyingly realistic as they stare up at the large building above. You also dimly note that the statues are all mainly unicorns, with only a few pegasi and earth ponies sprinkled in here and there.

There’s a few small ones as well that resemble foals, the stone effigies huddled together behind one of a mare. A few steps up are more, these ones clinging to the legs and barrel of a stallion. If the designers were going for creepy, they got it perfectly.

The hairs begin to stand up on the back of your neck, but still you press on.

You’re about halfway up the stairs when the building slowly comes into view. It’s indeed massive, but that’s too be expected seeing as it appears to be a palace. Gold and violet trim decorate the white structures and towers. The massive spires on the rooftops are adorned in statues and figurines. Large windows dot the wall of the buildings, and though most of them are dark, a few have flickering lights on within them. Backdropped by a waterfall cascading down the mountain beside it, the palace can easily be considered a thing of beauty and wealth.

However, the beauty of it is lost on you when you see that the majority of the palace sticks out over the edge of a cliff, hanging in open space with no clear sign of support beneath it.

Your eye twitches and you can feel your headache creeping back. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, shake your head, and then continue up the stairs. It’s not your problem, it’s not your problem, it is not your problem.

...so why does it feel like it’s going to be your problem soon?

White outer walls tower above you as you reach the top of the stairs. Inlaid with the marble is a gate of golden iron. Motifs of the sun and stars are carved above the gilded doors, as are a pair of pegasi-like gargoyles. Through the golden bars you can make out a large courtyard on the other side.

However, you can’t get to the courtyard at the moment. The gates are shut tight, and have some weird locking system wrapped around them. Large chains bind the bars, and you can feel the thrum of magic coming off of them in waves. They run through a large padlock, but there is no visible keyhole. Instead, a stylized ruin of the sun glows on the front of it.

It matches the symbol on the emblem Celestia gave you.

You wonder…

Fishing the cloth emblem out of one of your pockets, you glance at it only to find it glowing softly. It’s warm in your hoof, and the light it provides is somewhat soothing. You stare at it for a few seconds before lifting it into the air and presenting it to the lock. The thrum of magic increases to a near deafening hum before, with an echoing click, the lock opens and the chains fall off. Silence fills the air for a brief second before, with a deep groan, the gates begin to open.

Slipping the emblem back into a pocket, you give silent thanks to Celestia; it probably would have taken you hours to find a way over the wall otherwise.

When the gate is fully open, you slip through into the courtyard. It’s circular with dead cherry trees around the perimeter. A small fountain rests in the center of the area, an effigy of the sun resting on top of it. The golden metal glints in the moonlight. A cobblestone sidewalk circumferences the fountain before breaking off into multiple paths that lead to different buildings of the castle.

Now, which one leads to the School for Gifted Unicorns?

Moving further into the courtyard, you glance around at the different structures, trying to ascertain your next move. The one on the far left you immediately write off, as it’s clearly marked as the Treasury and is isolated from the rest of the buildings by a large, null-iron fence the wraps around the entire structure. You can almost feel your magic dying just by looking at that accursed metal, and you make sure to steer well clear of it.

The second building right next to the first… well, you aren’t too sure, but it looks like it might be a greenhouse or an indoor garden of some kind. Large green-tinted windows make up the roof, and through the darkened glass you can just barely make out the leaves of various plants.

Welp, that certainly isn’t what you’re looking for.

Before you have a chance to observe the other buildings, a shout reaches your ear. Turning your head, you watch as the doors to the rightmost building fly open and a pony clad in dark lavender armor stumbles out. Even from this distance you can see that she’s one of the bat-type pegasi like you saw earlier. One of her wings is bent at a weird angle, and her right back leg appears to be useless, as she’s dragging it along.

She hurries towards the flight of stairs that leads from the building into the courtyard, only to trip and fall. As she scrambles to get to her hooves again, more guards appear at the door. These ones wear golden armor, and several of them carry spears in their magic. Bloodied bandages cover their muzzles and eyes and—by the Maker, they’re all infected!

With wordless shouts, they rush after the injured mare.

She squawks and practically throws herself down the stairs head first, crawling along in a desperate attempt to flee. One of the of the unicorns launches his spear at the mare, and it embeds itself in her flank with a sickening sound. She let out a blood-curdling scream before rolling down the last few stairs to collapse on the ground in a heap.

Alarmed, you start forward to help her, but the other guards get there first. You can only watch in horror as one brings her spear up and, with a cry, thrust it into the batpony’s head. “Death to the thestrals!” There’s a sickening crunch, and the batpony falls still, a dark pool of blood slowly forming around her limp form.

Damn...

You grimace at the noise, but don’t slow your pace. Even as the spear is pulled free from the fallen mare’s skull, you race towards the guards. Your horn lights up, and the Saw Cleaver is hefted into the air. The sound of your hooves against the cobblestone alerts the guards, but you are upon them before they can turn. Whipping the cleaver through the air, you flick the switch and unfurl it right into the spear-mare’s face.

Blood sprays through the air as you rip her muzzle in half. Not waiting to see if she’s down and out, you move on to the next guard. You might not have been able to save the batpony, but by existence, you can avenge her. Your blade flashes through the air, drawing more blood as you cleave through another infected guard. He falls, clutching as his gurgling neck-wound; a hoof to the head finishes him off.

You turn, only to find the spear-mare lunging at you with her spear. Sidestepping, you give her a second gash across the face, followed quickly by one across her exposed flank. She falls to the ground with a shriek and her spear clattering away into the darkness.

“The town’s done for,” she wheezes before you slam your cleaver into the back of her head. As you pull the saw free, a guard tackles you to the ground. Teeth gnashing together, he growls before shoving something in your face.

Without waiting to see what it is, you roll quickly out of the way. A flash light blinds you at the same time an explosion of thunder assaults your ears. Bits of rock and earth bounce off your face, leaving behind small cuts. Ignoring the pain, you stagger to your hooves and get a good look at what the stallion has. Your eyes widen and your heart rate quickens upon seeing that he’s holding a thrice-damned griffonian blunderbuss in his magic.

He points the smoking barrel at you again, and you dive to the side just as another blast of thunder roars through the courtyard. You are forced to roll again as he fires a third shot. This one misses you, but strikes a guard instead, blowing half his face off. A fourth shot is fired and this time you are hit, the shot grazing your shoulder. Luckily, the coat the doll gave you seems to absorb most of the impact.

The stallion tries to fire a fifth shot, but the blunderbuss just clicks: he’s out of ammo. Reaching into his armor, the guard starts to reload the gun. He shoves one bullet in before cocking.

Nope!

Spinning about, you hurl your cleaver at his. The blade soars through the air and imbeds itself into the stallion’s leg. He cries out and his magic falters, causing the gun to fall to the ground. Before he can recover, you’re beside him. Grabbing the cleaver in your magic, you kick the stallion in the chest, sending him toppling backwards and ripping the blade free in a shower of blood.

The last guard charges you with a muffled shout, a battle axe clamped in his teeth. Unable to maneuver your blade around in time, you grab the blunderbuss with your magic. Whipping it up, you don’t even aim—you just point it in the stallion’s direction and pull the trigger.

The shot tears through the stallion’s armor and into his chest. He dies instantly, his body collapsing to the ground and sliding the last meter or so to end up at your hooves.

And with that, silence falls over the courtyard again.

Slowly straightening up, you glance around at the carnage. Five guards lie dead about your hooves, their golden armor splattered with blood. Off to the side, the mare in the lavender armor lays in a crumpled heap. You give her a sorrowful look and offer a quick prayer for her soul. With that, you begin to scavenge the bodies for anything useful.

It is a little tedious and stomach churning, seeing as everything is covered in blood. By the end of it though, you have acquired a couple more of those blue glowing vials for the health-gun-thingy, as well as nearly a dozen pieces of ammunition for the blunderbuss. The guards don’t have anything else really useful on them save for their armor—which you didn’t know the first thing about—and their personal trinkets—which you left alone.

You refuse to even consider desecrating the fallen batpony, out of both parts respect and guilt.

Placing the gathered resources into different pockets for later, you then inspect the blunderbuss. It’s in fairly good condition, just a few scratches and dings here and there. The handle is made out of dark wood, the color practically black in the gloom of the night. A strap of leather is connected to the base of the handle and the barrel, probably so that the griffon-user could throw it over their shoulder. Finding no real problem with the gun, you reload it before strapping it across your back. You give the Saw Cleaver a good shake in an attempt to clear off blood before placing it on your back as well.

Finished with your scavenging, you take a deep breath and bow your head, offering a pray for the fallen. You then step over the corpses and make your way slowly towards the central building.

You have a school to find...

...and a scourge to end.