Discordvania

The final defeat of Discord is an event marked in history. Six mares, under the tutelage of both princesses, managed to escape from the dungeon of Discord and overpower him with the long-lost power of harmony itself at their beck and call. Like most history in Equestria, it is a tale of adventure, love, and the power of friendship. Also like most history in Equestria, it was almost insultingly wrong. The actual story shows the mares in a much less flattering light, with the proud heroine managing to win through force of will, determination, and a complete lack of shame normally only seen in the most adventurous of fillies and colts.

The true story begins in the outskirts of the small town of Discordtroplis. Though the town itself was little more than a few small farms and a post office, it held the filly that would herald a new age in Equestria. She was fumbling armor on over her orange fur, with metal plates shaking into place over her back. “I swear, these things are so hard to get in the right place.” She flexed her wings a few times, causing the plates to shift, but not open to allow her the use of her small wings. “ARGH, BUCK IT!” She strapped the plates into position, keeping her wings tight to her body. “Not like they’re good for much anyway.” SHe grabbed the helmet she had ‘acquired’ from an old soldier. Or if one were being more honest, one that she stole from some brigand attempting to rob a party train. The volley of confetti that launched him to an unknown fate had left his helmet lying on the ground.

Her purple Mane was matted down by the helmet, which obscured her eyes. While she silently mourned the death of her peripheral vision, she made her way to the mirror. She paused at it, trying to remember if this mirror was a warped as the ones outside, at a glance it looked mostly right, her proportions were accurate, and her armor was a nice somber black. Until she remembered the helmet was tan. And with that the armors true nature snapped into being in her reflection. The mismatched armor had a different color on each plate, making this mismatched plates look even more out of place. She vaguely realized she could probably use the plates for her new preferred hunting grounds. Namely the palace of Discord.

She nodded at her unfortunate camouflage, but not before wondering why any piece of armor would be colored purple, let alone a breastplate. But she banished them with a calming breath. “Now only one thing left. If I’m gonna be the hero who beats Discord, I need a cool name.” She raised a hoof to her snout in thought. “Hmmm, I know Dead Beat!” She stomped her hoof on the ground, before sagging at the name. “Actually that sounds kinda stupid, like some foal who still believes in Cutie Marks and stuff.” After a moment of sagging, she straightened up. “But, it’s better than the alternative anyway. Now the only thing left to do it get to town hall and beat Discord.” She stood up and walked through her door, enjoying the small marshmallow hail as she made her way to her inevitable destiny, with no plan. This was going to end about as well as you would expect.

In other things you might expect, Discord did not actually have a set in place castle. Instead, he ruled from everywhere. Every town hall led directly into Discord’s palace, as well as one in three bathrooms. This has led to several close calls, embarrassing situations, and one short-lived war against an unknown Griffon. But it made Dead Beats job all the easier. She simply walked through the front doors of the small building with the neon sign proclaiming it to be Town Hall and found herself in an ornate throne room.

The room itself was a sugar-philes wet dream. Candy cane pillars supported a ceiling made of the finest chocolate chip, the floor underneath Dead Beat’s hooves had the unmistakable feeling of sugar cookie, and the walls were devils food cake. The throne that sat in front of her was the only exception. She did not know the history behind the ivory and gold throne that Discord refused to change, but it stood out like a sore hoof. The lone bastion of normality in a sea of strange delicacies. Perhaps that was the reasoning, a bit of order to show just how chaotic the land truly was. She shook the thought out of her head. Such musings were for historians. She was a mare of action. “DISCORD, I HAVE COME TO END YOUR EVIL REIGN!”

She shouted into the empty throne room and waited. Second piled on after second, making her fur stand on end. After hours of waiting. (Read: one minute) a yawn broke the silence. A tall figure walked through the wall beside her. Lord Discord, in all his gangly glory, had walked beside her. Still wearing a pair of Power Pony Pajama’s, and his crown sporting a nightcap coming from the center. After smacking his lips a few times he looked to Dead Beat. “Gimme a sec, causing chaos can really mess with your sleep schedule.”

Scootaloo stared as Discord snapped his fingers, a coffee mug clapping into existence beside him. It was coated in rainbow design, which faded to a dull gray as he sipped it, leaving it to be a grey and dull mug. He let out a content sigh and smacked his tail against the ground. “I tell you what, a good cup of Joe in the mornings is exactly what you need to get a good start on the day.” He turned to face Dead Beat, still holding his mug. “Now then, it appears I have another usurper leading a brave one mare charge into my castle today.”

Dead Beat nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been forced to live under your chaotic tyranny for far too long. Farms can’t grow food, children can’t play freely in the streets, and everyponies scared to talk to each other.” Dead Beat rose to her full height. Her confidence surging as her speech continued.”And I won’t stand for it, ponies deserve to be free!”

Discord looked at her with a smile on his face. “Well I thought it was an excellent speech, let’s see what our judges think.” He waved a hand beside him, revealing a panel of three Discord’s, all sitting behind a desk. They slowly all lifted their signs, and Discord flinched at the designs. “Oh, two firefighters and a bouncy ball, you know what that means?”

The wind fell out of Dead Beats sails, he really wasn’t taking this seriously at all, leaving her less sure of herself than moments ago. “Uh, that I get a free pass?”

Discord shook his head. “Nope, it means you have to try again.” Dead Beat nodded and took a deep breath to try to one-up herself. Only to be cut off as a plastic bag smacked into her face. She heard Discord’s laugh. “Not right now you silly little pony, after you play my little game.”

She slapped the bag away from her face and watched as Discord slowly floated over to her, reclining a bit as he looked her over. With a snap of his talons, she felt lighter, and her vision became clear of the armored walls that had surrounded her eyes. “After a quick costume change of course.”

She turned her head and saw the most ridiculous jester’s outfit ever. Every color in the rainbow seemed to be fighting for dominance over it and didn’t care for such little things as color-coordination or sanity. It had bells all over, causing her to sound like a hearths-warming caroller having a seizure. And the worst part was the hat. She could feel it as the thing seemed to slump over her head, and she could hear the multitude of bells jingling with her every move. “OH BUCK NO!” SHe began trying to pull it off, only to find it stuck fast to her body.

She heard Discords stupid laugh again. “Oh don’t go trying to take it off, it’s stuck there, until either you give up or win.” She glared as he coiled around nothing, never looking from her eyes. “The game is simple, you go through my little dungeon, and if you make it through that, I'll give you a shot at the crown, sound fair.” Dead Beat was about to answer but was cut off by yet another bag flying into her face. “DOn’t care, thems the rules. Give up and you get to be my court Jester. Buh Bye!” And before she could remove the bag, another snap echoed around her. Leaving the throne room empty, save Discord. “Well, hopefully, today will be more entertaining than yesterday. I do so love when a pony goes for gold.” He floated to the throne and say down, flicking his beard as he sat. “And who knows, maybe she’ll get lucky.”