Ponyhammer 41K

Buboes Barrenflank stood there surrounded by blisters that clotted upon the ground. The mass of biological flesh merged into the dirt itself to become some new form of plague. The green bulbous shells slowly grew up and then popped into puss and pustule sprites which shot into the air around him. His flank was bare. Where a cutiemark had been, had rotted away and spilled out onto the ground along with part of his intestine. He had drug that rotting tube of meat behind him for nearly three millenium. his small intestine on his left and his large upon his right like the sight of uneven decaying regal robes. He had once been a loyal Pony Hoof of the twin sisters but now; he loved his new body and his grandmama Fluttershy provided him with an endless source of happiness and renewal as his physical form grew more grotesque and rotten. He felt it; the essence of the abyssal countess echoed returning from the end of the darkness. He felt the laughter inside his bones. It was time; time to begin their attack as well.

Barrenflank turned to his second in command, Rotter Scales. The pony looked to the dragon and the dragon turned his gaze as they examined one another. Buboes's right fore hoof was completely rotted away and replaced with a chainsword that oozed blessings of the virulent pone. A poison so vile that it takes nearly a year to die from it. There is no cure as you slowly watch your entire body rot away and become a new pustule sprite for grandmama Fluttershy. The only way to end it was to leap into flame and burn ponyself alive.

The stallion's lower jaw lacked skin while several blisters with cysts lining his chin down his neck and over the shoulder into the power armor he wore. His stomach was completely devoid of skin as maggots with a pustule sprite were merged into his abdomen where his abs and belly button should be. His liver partially spilled from his gut and leaked an unnatural sickly colored ooze. His green furred body was covered in the slime that made up his mane of yellow and pink, changed to color of his goddess of chaos. Three balls of pustule sprites starting to merge into a flutterling adorned his shoulders on each side poking through this armored shoulders.

Rotter Scales grunted and belched out a gaunt of flame from his mouth, full of rotten teeth and with a smell of a thousand corpses. He was physically taller and more imposing that Barrenflank had ever been. The dragon stood upon his rear legs as well but, he knew in a real fight; fluttershy's champion would rend him asunder then put him back together to do it again and again till he could find no pleasure in the fallen dragon's annihilation. His tail was nothing but a skeleton, the scales and flesh long since rotted away and replaced in spikes of bone and newly grown bits of hardened calcium shards. Each one covered in poisons from all across the galaxy. The poisons ranged in colors that shone with the ferocity of a rainbow turned to a force of pure perversion and death.

He had only one actual leg, the other was made of an unwilling flutterling that squirmed to be free but was held in place by an even darker blessing. His scales had grown directly into the head of the massive sized ball of puss and blood that was barely holding together from exploding with each of his steps as the dragon's weight fell onto it. It was happy none the less and chittered with bites outward trying to get another piece of flesh to suckle upon. In several spots he was missing his scales and you could see his organs decayed to the core but functioning still despite torn by disease and pestilence. But the most distinctive feature was his eye, replaced by a pustule sprite. The creature in the dragon's head looked at what he did and moving around with its eerie bug body. A pone could see through and the ball of puss swishing inside.

Grandmama Fluttershy had been most generous towards the two of them in her blessings. Their appearance long since losing the refinement of a dragon and a pony of Twin Sister's Kingdom. Instead they looked like beasts from an age before civilization. Their foreheads both were larger, their faces much more primordial, and the hair upon their body heavily overgrown and under cared for.

Rotter Scales felt it too. The essence of the darkness seeping and preparing to come forth. The oldest, supposedly, of the chaos gods, Fluttershy, would not be pleased should they allow this. The two exchanged a stare, the stare of their grandmother. Such a look would freeze the hearts of those less willed and even still force others to obey their command out of sheer embarrassment. A stare that said, “You have disappointed me and cannot redeem yourself. Good....fall with me.” A blessing only granted to Flutters most loyal and highest achieving champions.

The leader of the Death Manes and the leader of the Plague Scales finished their stare and knew that neither had backed down. If either of them did, they would consume each other and the Great Yellow Mare would be most unhappy with this.

“So....it is time then?” Rotter Scales asked of his rival. He looked upon the stallion as the creature only slowly; in a way that would make a mortal pony's stomach twist and vomit, smiled. A rotten tooth, barely hanging on, dropped from his muzzle. “I believe Grandmama Fluttershy has already told both of us, it is time.” Rotter Scales said as he watched his barely holding together dragon's scales molt outward and form into his power armor. The sickening slurps and crunches of metal and flesh sown together was a symphony of desecration to all whom could hear it. The heavy plates attached directly to his flesh. He groaned and then smiled taking pleasure in the experience of the pain that ebbed into his form. It was through this he knew Fluttershy's love.

“Then let us not wait for the others and prepare for the final battle to decide the fate of the one.” Buboes Barrenflank grunted through his teeth. Another cast out of mouth and regrew an even more cavity ridden chunk of denten and enamel in its place. He turned and started to trot towards his ship alongside the drake, walking in the same broken stride.