A Tribute To Boredom And Stuff

by Chirruplet

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure
Length: 2815

What would you do if you woke up in a box, with only the voice in your head to tell you who you are?

Not a Hie, or a self-insert, but a story of my OC. Waking up in a box, with no-one but the voice in his head to tell him who he once was, why he is in a box, and what the hay happened to him to put him in this situation?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-17 22:10:36 UTC

The Capturing

Now now, don’t interrupt me, this will take even longer if you do. And there’s enough to tell as it is. Hold all questions to the end.

Strike heard a slight giggle at the end of that, almost as if the voice was enjoying this.

"Fine, I won’t ask until you’re done."

Good. On with the story, you came from a minor noble family of Canterlot, but quickly got bored. You left, and went adventuring. 300 years ago you settled in Ponyville. Almost at the border of the Everfree in fact, but that never really bothered you. As such, no one ever really bothered to come and see you, so you eventually became a recluse really, just working on some projects and analyzing things, finding what made them tick. You were brilliant at what you did, even if your magic put a slight limiter on that. Any enchanting or fire-based spell, you could pull off easily. You could cast the strongest of those spells for days before becoming tired. However, any other kind of spell would leave you gasping; the second floor you and the third you’d generally pass out.

Anyway, one day you were working on another of your projects. You wanted to make a more powerful creation than any you’d ever done before, and that required the both of us working in concert. Quite lucky really, if I hadn’t been helping chances are you wouldn’t have made it out. You left a slight gap in your protective spells, and made a last minute modification to the project which made it… well, explode.

Magical explosions are the worst, there are unpredictable side effects. As such, you were knocked out and lost all of your memories.

So, I brought you here, your hideout in case anyone ever came after you, and we stayed here until you woke up.

That’s pretty much it.

Strike still couldn’t remember any of this, but he hoped it to be true. Otherwise, he’d have to find out about himself, and that would be hard having been asleep for 300 years, everypony he knew would probably be gone.

"Wait,' Strike mused, "if I was asleep for 300 years, how am I not dead? That’s way beyond the average pony’s lifespan."

Well, you were in stasis. None of your body aged, and as such once you healed you would be your old self again. Luckily the healing process still worked, otherwise you wouldn’t have recovered.

"And what became of my other projects?"

Most perished when your house fell down, you’re wearing the remnants.

"What?"

Oh, I guess you forgot that too… You enchanted those scarves, did you think you just wore 4 for no reason? They pretty much became extra limbs, but you’ll have to break them in again. But be careful, there are so many enchantments on those things; you might blow yourself up again.

Strike closed his eyes, and tried to guess what the voice was yammering on about. He could feel the scarves, like he could feel his legs or horn, but it was stiff, and he couldn’t move it.

Throwing his will against the scarf, he felt it shudder slightly. Trying again, more forcefully this time, it juddered again, slightly more so than before. One final push later, and Strike felt the scarf start to move, completely under his direction.

Opening his eyes again, he whipped the black appendage back and forth, revelling in his success.

One down, a few thousand to go. The voice said with a slight giggle.

"What? Thousand?"

Yup, you compressed them. Get 4 scarves, compress into one. Repeat with every scarf you had. Compress 4 of those into 1, and continue like that until you only had 4.

"So… i'm wearing several thousand of these enchanted things?"

Exactly!

Leaving The Box

*several hours later*

With all of his scarves finally under control, and having remembered most of their uses, Strike was ready to leave this dark, solitary prison.

"Lets do this."

You know I have a name right? I'm not just a voice in your head, even if you keep thinking of me as one. We decided on one a while ago.

"And that would be…?" Strike gathered his magical power, and picked a good explosive spell to blast the oppressive wall down. Beginning to charge it, the flames on his horn whirled faster, and started to release more light.

In a terrible wild west accent, the voice said, I’m Striking Shadows. See the resemblance? Because we’re THE SAME PERSON, and with a maniacal laugh, stopped talking.

Releasing the power in his horn, strike felt a slight drain on his magical power, and watched in dismay as a tiny pea-sized ball of white flame drifted slowly from his horn, towards the wall.

“Well, that sucked”, Strike mused out loud, “guess 300 years of sleep dulled my supposed pow-“

Strike was cut off by a gigantic explosion as the flame hit the wall, blowing the entire wall it was aimed at away, along with  most of the floor, ceiling, and the two closest walls. Strike frantically threw up a blockade of scarves, with a quick grab into the enchantments for strength, blast resistance and fire resistance, but was still launched back at the opposite wall, hitting it with enough force to bring stars to his eyes.

Well done. Shadows said sarcastically. I said you were more powerful with fire and enchantments than anyone else, but do you listen? No. Well done.

With a grimace, Strike heaved himself from the floor, wincing at the pain in his back. Quickly whipping the scarves back and forth to get rid of the embers, the unicorn limped towards the hole he had blasted, to see a dark night sky, with a slight luminance far to the west. The ground was covered in small bushes and gnarled, twisted trees groped towards the sky. A slight mist drifted through the air, lessening how far he could see.

We’re heading for the glow, Shadows said, but I’d recommend moving quickly. There are some… unsavoury things in this forest.

"Right," Strike replied.

Scarves started slithering out of the band around his neck, slowly forming a topless box. When the box was finished, more moved from the bottom, twisting together to make long legs. Strike hopped in his creation, and placed his forelegs on top, so he could see over. He ascertained his direction, and willed the legs into movement. He rose above the trees, the contraptions legs still on the ground, and moving slowly but surely towards his luminous destination.

The Town

Finally, after an uneventful night moving through the forest in his peculiar fashion, Strike finally reached Ponyville. Walking through the town, he realised none of it looked familiar.

Of course not. You barely ever came here, it’s been 300 years and even if you did have your memory’s you’d probably still not recognise anything, Shadows finally spoke, breaking his night long silence.

"At LAST! I’ve been trying to get you to speak for the whole night! Where were you?"

Well, even voices in your head need to sleep every once in a while. You’ve slept long enough, so I decided it was my turn.

"Goody. Any suggestions on what I should do now?"

You can’t figure this out yourself? You don’t have a house, any food or money. Good luck. You have someone following you.

Strike looked behind him, down the street he had been slowly walking down. All he could see were houses, pony’s going about their day to day lives, and some stalls selling things like apples, bread and flowers.

Third stall down on the right, blue top, behind the pile of apple tarts. How are you missing this? It’s not like bright pink is camouflaged with apples!

The unicorn took a closer look, and there was indeed a pony following him. A pink earth pony to be closer, with a frizzy, fuchsia, mane and 3 balloons as a cutie mark, was hiding behind the stall described, staring at him intently. As soon as he realised her cutie mark though, he realised he had never looked at his.

Turning to stare at his flank, he caught a look at a colourful flame, turning yellow to orange to red, a greyscale scarf, separating the flame and… a faded out lightning bolt. He could guess the relevance of the flames and scarf, but what in Equestria was the lightning bolt for?

Oh, that’s me! The voice in his head bubbled up. See how you, the flame, and me, the lightning, are separated by the scarves, but both still in the mark? It’s because we’re the same person, just completely different.

“That made no sense. At all.”

During the time Strike and Shadows had been talking, the unidentified pink mare had crept up on them. Now, he came back to reality only to find himself, halfway through a tirade of unintelligible babble, consisting of something about pie, sugar cubes, and 3 hours. Before he could open his mouth, the pink pony had bounced off, and disappeared round a corner before the first syllable could be uttered.

“W-What?”

Time is ticking, and you still need a home, food and a job. If you’re going to make it to Pinkie’s party, you need these things in less than 3 hours.

“How did you catch these things?”

I have good hearing, and I can decipher that stuff with ease. Now, I believe you were looking for a job?

“Suggestions as to where?”

Well, play to your strengths. You essentially have over 8000 limbs at your beck and call, are a unicorn, and your main power lies in fire, creation and enchanting. If you remember metal working, then do that. But you probably don’t, and Sweet Apple Acre’s is probably the only place that’s likely still around after all this time.

By now, Strike was getting several odd looks from the townsponies. It’s not everyday a unicorn walks into town, talking to himself and with only four scarves to him.

You ought to start talking to me with your thoughts now. You’re weirding people out.

Strike glanced around him, and almost every pony wore a look of mistrust, or annoyance. Apart from 3 fillies, who appeared to be attempting to juggle while standing on each others backs.

Strike watched the fillies, one orange, one silver and one lime green, as they attempted to entertain passers-by. However, the orange pegasi at the bottom got distracted, and forgetting the weight on her back, attempted to walk away. This led to the other filly’s losing their balance, and falling off the top, onto the floor, while their juggling balls bounced all around them.

Strike chuckled slightly, before looking around the town once more. He saw an old sign, pointing to his left with the words “Sweet Apple Acres” emblazoned on it. The unicorn started to slowly meander towards this place, then realised he had a deadline to keep and started moving slightly faster.

Finding Things

*Took A While*

When Strike had finally arrived, after a short walk a fence came into view, and just behind the fence, an orchard larger than anything he had ever seen before. Not that great an achievement, he had never seen an orchard that he could remember. The tree’s leaves, Browns, reds and dark greens, were being slowly moved by a slight breeze. As he watched, one leaf lost its tenuous grip on its branch, drifting through the air until it hit the floor.

“Hey!”

Strike turned at the unfamiliar voice, to see an earth pony mare moving towards him, from a large barn which looked to be in dire need of repair. The red and white paint on the wood had faded, and some cracks spread through the walls.

The mare approaching was a bright orange, with a Stetson hat, long, braided blonde hair, and a cutie mark of 3 red apples. She was an exceptionally well muscled mare, especially in the legs, indicating large amounts of heavy exercise.

Eventually, the mare reached the strange unicorn, who simply stared at her. “Y’all right?” the unicorn seemed a bit strange in the head, and even was muttering to himself under his breath, but stopped before she could hear anything.

“I was wondering I you had any positions for a job? I’m new in town ’and this time period’ and was wondering if I could work here for a while? I assume you’re in charge here.”

“Th’ names Applejack. An’ we always need more help’n hands! Follow me, I’ll show ya what ya’ll be doing.”

She started to trot off, into the orchard, and strike followed. The trees looked even taller from here, and strike noticed large, shiny red apples hanging from some of them.

Soon enough, Applejack and Strike were deep into the orchard.

“Now, we earth ponies have our own techniques, but you unicorns norm’ly try a tele-something or other spell. Give’t a try, see how many apple’s you can get down.”

Pfft. Strike heard, as he started to will his scarves into action, and a second later they burst from the band around his neck, twisting towards the tree. Within a second, every apple on the tree was plucked from it’s place, and nestled in a cushion of wool.

He turned to the astounded earth pony, whose jaw was almost on the floor at the strange sight in front of her. “And these go where?” He asked with a slight grin.

Applejack, too confused for words, just gestured with a hoof to a bucket on the other side of the tree. Once the unicorn had dropped them in to said bucket, the orange mare spoke up again. “Now ya got to grips with that, Just head that’away for’ she turned to look at the sun’ Bout half an hour. Then ya go home, and come back agen tomorrah.”

She soon left, leaving Strike to his job, which he did with a speed to rival the fastest apple bucker. Sometimes plucking clean several trees at once, and by the time the sun was about to set had cleared almost all his assigned session. He was just leaving, well aware he still had nowhere to stay the night, or any food, when he was reminded the party he was invited to started in less than 10 minutes. The unicorn started running towards the exit, hoping to run into someone who knew their way to this sugarcube corner.

However, he had not expected this to happen literally.

The Awakening

As he slowly drifted into consciousness, he shook himself free from the last vestiges of a very long sleep. Suddenly, a calming, optimistic voice resonated, sounding extremely close with a slight echo.

At last! You’re awake!

Opening his eyes, the unicorn took stock of his surroundings, and himself. Both his mane and tail were an electric blue, with slight pale streaks, long, curly and unkempt. His coat was a light brown, and a pattern of flames surrounded his deep black hooves. Several scarves, consisting mainly of greys, blacks and whites, wrapped snugly around his neck. His horn was a deep crimson, longer and sharper than  most, with 3 small flames slowly twirling around it, flickering and providing the only light in the room, a pale orange luminance.

Turning his attention to the surroundings, the confused unicorn realised he was in a dark stone room, the walls covered in moss and with no visible exit. The ceiling was at least 3 times higher than it needed to be, and there were no windows.

That was when he realised there were no other beings in the room, and the unicorn was confused, as he also had no recollection of getting to this room, or anything. He had no memories at all.

Well, I’m not strictly in the room with you, but I sure am here! We had this conversation before, but you were kinda busy so we never got to finish it.

Finding his tongue, the unicorn slowly, hesitantly spoke, with a voice like gravel, asked “Where are you!? And what do you mean, before?!”

Well, we had this conversation before Strike. Still, I suppose magical explosions have side effects so I’ll excuse your memory loss. For now.

He was quite confused by all this, and still had no idea who he was talking to, or who this Strike was.

You’re talking to the voice in your head, and you are Strike, for short. Striking Flames is your full name.

“You make having a voice in your head sound normal, and I didn’t even ask you that”

I’m inside your head; I know what happens and what you’re thinking. And I mean, we have been talking 17 years.

"17 YEARS? Tell me everything."

All of it?

"Yes. Everything."

Righty-ho! You lived on the outskirts of Ponyville just over 300 years ago-

"WHAT?!?!"