The Vanquishers: Origins

by ProsaurusRex

Rating: everyone
Tags: Dark, Adventure
Length: 1057

Ponies in Fillydelphia begin to turn to, so two young fillies and two colts decide to investigate.

When ponies in Fillydelphia begin to turn to stone overnight, two young fillies and two young colts (Alexis Aegis, Sharp Gaze, Blu Triumph, and Brazen) come together and show their adventurous side, deciding to investigate.
Brazen heads to the local library in hope of find what the cause of this might be. His search ends with only one possibility: a Cockatrice was loose in their town.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-21 14:04:02 UTC

Prologue: Casualty

She was just being totally unreasonable! Thornsong had every reason to tell her daughter to go to bed early after behaviour like that. But... Perhaps she had said it a little harshly. Thistle Whistle had seemed more than a bit angry at her. Maybe she should go and check that Thistle was okay? Nodding to herself, her curly mane bobbing up and down as she did, Thornsong made her way to the stairs.

She climbed up them quickly and quietly, and softly she tapped her hoof on the door to Thistle's bedroom. No reply came, so with a slight glow of her horn, Thornsong magically opened the door just enough for her to stick her head in.

"Thistle, sweetie?" she asked in a soft voice. Thistle, wherever she was hiding, didn't answer. "I'm sorry, Thistle. I wasn't trying to be mean." As she said the last word, the mare left a slight breeze in her mane. The window was open. "Thistle?!" Thornsong said one again, her rising panic showing in her voice.

Pushing the door open fully, she jumped into the room and hastily looked around, illuminating the darkness with a simple light spell. Her daughter was nowhere to be seen. Running away was preposterous, Thistle couldn't survive out in the world on her own. She could get lost out there. Had she left Fillydelphia, or was she just hiding in some alleyway? Maybe there was time to get her and bring her back before she was hurt, or even killed.

The was a thud as a book fell to the ground behind Thornsong. "Thistle!" She cried with a jump, turning around. She increased the intensity of her spell so she might see her daughter, but she never did.

*

Thistle Whistle looked around in the darkness of the night as she walked. Shapes and silhouettes of monsters flittered around her, but none seemed to dare to come close. Always keeping their distance. Always watching. Fear gripped her, washing over the anger she had possessed only moments ago.

Perhaps having an argument with her mother wasn't reason enough to run away from home. Out in the open at night, any creatures could spring themselves upon her, any creepy crawlies could find their their way into her mane. She shuddered at the thought.

It sure was scary out here, on her own. No parents, no friends to comfort her, to tell her she'll be okay. Just the unknown, the monsters that lurked in the dark. She hadn't gone far, she knew she could find her way back home if she needed to. Or if she wanted to, as the case seemed. Her mother could forgive her, couldn't she? Although her mother had seemed very angry when she sent Thistle to bed.

Thistle stopped in her tracks, turning around to look back down the path she had come, leading into the town from the forest. She had a decision to make now, to continue down this path and see where it may take her, to live a life without parents, but where she could be her own pony. Or, she could return home and ask for the forgiveness of her mother.

A rustle in the bushes nearby made her jump. Had one of the monsters of the night finally decided to reveal itself? Too scared to move with fear of bring noticed, Thistle stood stone still and watched the bushes where the noise had come from. She caught the glint from a pair of eyes in the moonlight. They didn't look towards her, they just focused on the town. With another rustle, the creature's head was revealed.

Thistle sighed to herself. It was nothing more than a stray chicken, hiding in the forest, running away like herself. She thought perhaps such a silly mistake could make her feel better, like all the monsters were just her imagination. But it didn't, shadows still inspired fear in her tiny heart.

Looking back to Fillydelphia again, down the path she had come, Thistle knew that living a life like this wasn't what she wanted. If she couldn't last a few minutes in the forest on her own, it was best she just returned and took whatever punishment her mother could give her.

*

As Thistle trotted back through town to her home, her fears began to lessen and she became more lucid. Maybe she could sneak back into her room before her mother even noticed? But any hope of that disappeared when her house came into view. The filly could see a light dancing around in her room through the open window. No doubt her mum was searching for her.

As she watched, Thistle saw the light brighten quickly before going out altogether. So, her mother knew she wasn't in her room, and had probably figured out that Thistle had run away into the night. Maybe she would be angry at that, and maybe she would be worried. Thistle only had one way to find out, and that was to head inside and confront her mother.

Pushing open the front door, she made her way inside. Her mum wasn't in the lounge, or the kitchen, it seemed. Closing the door behind her, Thistle made her way through the lounge into the study. No mother there either. Maybe she had gone to bed herself? Thistle quickly ran up the stairs, swinging open the door to her parent's room. Empty.

So her mother must have gone back into her room again. Going back out of the room, Thistle could see that her bedroom door was open, and her mother's silhouette stood in front of the open window. "Mum?" she said quietly, walking into the room with her head down. "I'm sorry I ran away..."

She looked up when her mother didn't respond. She just stood there, unmoving, looking at Thistle. "Mum?" Thistle repeated in a voice of fear only a child could make. Her mother wouldn't even speak to her, she was so mad. A soft breeze came in through the window, pushing her hair out of her face. Her mother's hair, Thistle noticed, didn't move. None of her moved.

Thistle cast a weak illumination spell to have a look at her mother. And then she screamed at the panicked expression on her mother's face. Her mother's cold, hard, stone face.