Pastel Meltdown

A beacon for the undead

****** somewhere nearby Canterlot ******

The morning dawn shined in as the world seemed to slowly awaken. A small few critters were crawling around on the mountain bushes and trees that seemed to be randomly placed about.

One such bunny was chewing on a very tasty berry from the bush in front of it. Gnawing happily as it took in bit by bit in a speedy manor, it seemed content with its day already.

That is, until it became frightened. A fairly decent amount of portals started to open up and a small amount of zombies stumbled through, falling in random directions. All except for one, this one was different somehow, it’s eyes, instead of pure empty white, showed fiery red as they swirled inside its head. Its body was vastly different from the others and seemed more edged and sharp. It seemed more than just an empty husk, like the others were and stood in place, watching the others fumble about on their feet.

This zombie seemed to have some very witch like claws, only they seemed more scaled and withered in a natural like way. Each arm that followed up showed similar patterns, as well as sharp, jagged edges where its elbows and shoulder joints connected. The creatures head was shaped like that of a humans that ended once the back of the undead’s head was seen. Instead of hair, or just a plain scalp, the creature had spikes pulling like a part of itself backwards. The center of the spikes was clear and at first appearance, looked like a closed eye.

It spoke up with a haunting and angry voice. “Fiiiind the ooonnneeeessssssss....” It hissed, pointing off in the direction of Canterlot, eyes glowing its sinister red.

The group of zombies stumbled off in the general direction now, hungry for flesh with a purpose unknown.

********** Canterlot Castle **********

Francis had his head buried into his pillow, arm lazily hanging on the side of the bed. His snoring was abhorrent and obnoxious, loud enough to rattle the lamp that was precariously placed near the edge of the small table.

A soft wind was aiding in the disbalance in the lamp, it wobbled side to side until it sat amazingly stable at a slight angle.

The door swung softly open as a maid trotted in, the wind current from the opening door caused the lamp to become unbalanced once again and it fell straight to the floor. The loud crash surprised the young maid and caused her to yelp and fall onto her haunches. This in turn, sent Francis’ once calm mind into a rocketing mess of surprise as he fell onto his face on the solid floor below.

With an exasperated groan, Francis got up and rubbed the bridge of his nose as a distinct bruising started on his forehead.

Giving an annoyed look to the maid, she smiled sheepishly before speaking up. “Sorry.”

She started to take her leave when she remembered what she came into Francis’ room to do. She turned back to him and smiled the same smile once again. “Sorry again, but breakfast is in ten minutes and the others are already awake,”

As Francis nursed his head, he muttered a gruff, “fine” before looking back to the accursed lamp. “Ain’t you gonna clean it up?”

The maid pony physically face hoofed at her forgetfulness and walked over and started to pick up the broken lamp pieces with her magic. When Francis showed no signs of leaving the room, the maid spoke up. “Are you not going to breakfast?”

“Not yet, wanted to think some. Maybe clean my shotgun a bit before going to breakfast.” Francis pulled out a fairly used cloth, picked up his shotgun, and began to wipe down the barrel.

The maid quickened her cleaning pace before rushing out the door.

********** 5 miles outside Canterlot **********

A stallion was pulling a fairly creaky wagon along. Rather, it seemed more fitting that he was ‘dragging’ it along as it creaked and sputtered in denial. The stallion was a plain dark blue with a white mane.

The stallion grunted in ire as he thought to himself. ‘Dammit, why did the wheel have to give out now? It was the last spare I had’.

He continued to complain in his head in extreme annoyance when a distant, hellish moan erupted nearby. He stopped and looked around. When he saw nothing, he continued on his path, slowly dragging along the chunk of wood that was his wagon.

That is, until he heard more hellish moans coming from behind the wagon back the way he came. He looked behind himself to see something that caused him extreme trepidation. A small group of beings he thought came from Tartarus itself. The one leading in front had a missing jaw, it filled the stallion with so much dread as the being charged at him in a speedy pace.

The stallion fumbled with the restraints that connected him with the wagon but kept losing grip. The zombie was now at least three feet away as it maliciously chased down it’s meal.

It tripped over a rock that was meticulously, and most ironically, in it’s way. The zombie fell to the ground with a ‘thud’ and the stallion managed to unhook himself. He started to think he would make it when two other zombies that were trailing shortly behind the lead zombie, were now sprinting faster towards him.

In the heated moment, the stallion managed to run with god like magnitude in the opposite direction, just barely fast enough to keep away from their teeth. The stallion was completely adrenaline fueled and failed to notice as he was being boxed in and sent to the left for whatever reason.

He didn’t do so much as think other than the ‘getaway’ thought. He failed to notice until he reached two rather close together trees, but once he squeezed through them, he realized just how screwed he was.

On the other side of the two tree’s was............

“A bucking cliff, shit.” The exasperated stallion looked over the edge to see a huge drop onto solid ground. No water. No hope.

The moans behind him started to sound like joyous ones as the Tartarus like beasts closed in on their prey.

Weighing his options quickly, the stallion decidedly jumped off the edge of the cliff, hoping for a less painful death. ‘Or at least a quicker one’.

He tumbled and hit the cliff a few times, painfully stabbing into him. He cried out breathlessly in pain. He started to choke on his lack of oxygen. He was going too fast to breathe and he was now even more terrified. But his prayers of a quick death was answered as his haunches met with the cold, dusty ground at the bottom of the cliff; his blood and guts splattered across the ground, marking where he once lived for but a mere millisecond.