Shadows Over Equestria

It appeared from the western edge of the Equestrian territories. Those lucky enough to see it would call it the Flying Dutchman. It was an airship, one made of steam and coal and enchanted by magics. The spells on it bent light, flickering it in and out of view. Many who spoke of the ship, breathed of its existence would be labeled a liar. The rest would label it a sign from the great beyond, something pulled from the abyss that had chosen to enrapture Equestria.

It’s from this ship that they came, The two who hit the dirt and looked around. They were far from the nearest town or city, but the captain of the Flying Dutchman would carry them no further. They couldn’t risk being spotted, and the skies were growing unkind. The two would have to continue on foot from here.

“It’s going to be a long walk from here.” The ship captain mutters as he looks down at the two. They just turn their gaze up to look at him, and then to the cursed, red ringed moon who has wept for several nights now. “Be careful.”

As if on cue a blood-wrenching howl fills the night. The hairs on the back of the pairs necks rise and the shadows seem to grow longer. The ship takes flight disappearing over the horizon as they pull up their collars, grab their blades and head into the darkness of the Western Woods.

It called to them, and so they answered.

Shadows over Equestria

They walk in silence, do not need to share words. Not now, not yet. One is a mare, the other a stallion.Before them floats their weapons, both of steam and metal. The blades the carry; her katana, and his twinblade glow red as the ringed moon looks down on them Unblinking, unchanging. Without the Mare on the Moon etched upon it, the moon appears more like an angry eye. Still they aren’t scared.

No… no they are scared. They just didn’t it cloud their judgement.

When fear took control it clouded one's judgement, made monsters out of empty shadows and swallowed one whole. When it was controlled though, it made one alert, kept them aware of the danger that was on the horizon.

Because of that, they weren't taken back when it came before them.

It began with a growl and the sound of twigs snapping. It evolved into a sea of eyes like the darkness was watching them. It ended with the horde.

Equestria called this land the Undiscovered West, they called it that because none ever explored the territory, and as such expansion was postponed till it was documented.

That was a lie. Equestria had attempted to expand into the west long ago, and all attempts ended in failure. Al who entered the west fell to “something” something the Monarch of Equestria either didn’t want brought to light or chose to leave to its own devices. Across the western forest, attempts at early settlements and on unpaved bones were the sleeping bones of those who had come.And they would sleep forever in unmade graves.

But as of three nights ago, as the soil vomited forth necromantic miasma, the dead came together and began to wander.

Looking into the hollowed eyes of the corpse-born, both Outlanders just watched. They reeked of necromantic might, and vapors of wrapped around them as a false skin.

“Looks like they brought out the welcome wagon.” The mare mutters.

“Looks like it.” Her counterpart mutters as he tightens an arcane grip on his weapon. “Problem is they look a bit hungry too.”

“Yeah~ that’s not good.” The mare mutters as her katana starts sliding from its sheath. “We’d better feed them then.” “Hope they like steel, it’s all we really got that’s on the menu.”

“It’ll have to do. The Horde of undead come; half-running half-gliding towards them. They outnumber them 10 to one, but their underequipped and outclassed.

Steel flies, and in the moonlight they cast crimson angry streaks across the forest. The Outlanders fight, as they had for years now. Thy fight and break bones, sever heads and bisect bodies. Again the dead rise.

They cut them down again, and again the dead rise.

Again and again.

Again and again, the dead rise.

That which is dead, cannot die again.

That is a truth and a lie. Normal steel cannot kill that which is already dead. Enchanted- esoteric- can given the right properties can. An arcane blade can repulse them if for a moment and seal them so long as steel remains strong. A holy blade can cleanse them and bring it peace. A demonic blade will burn them with corruption and they will fade in agony. A Cursed blade will eat them and grow in power.

Of the four, the Outlanders have the simplest which repels for a moment, and seals for a time.

That’s fine though, they push the soul back and destroy the body, makes certain it’s crushed into dust.

The dead rise still, they gather, attach themselves to those able bones that remain.

The Outlanders keep cutting them down.

The dead keep moving, keep gathering.

The Outlanders cut down, the dead gather.

They repeat the pattern until there is but one vessel left for thee to inhabit.

That’s when it happens; so many unfortunate souls crammed together and not enough space to share. They press against one another, they push and they pull at each other. They howl and scream. They become one. A bloated mass of ectoplasm, a singular abomination of shrieking fusing souls.Legion is born, and the vessel can struggles as it attempts to accommodate one born of many separate wills.

It’s what they were waiting for.

Together the outlanders turn their weapons on themselves, cut their hooves and draw blood. It dances as they direct it to their blades. The etch a symbol onto their weapons - an old word onto that grants them power. When finished they plunge their weapons forward, deep into the ghostly like a Spirit of Legion.

In an instant, the screaming comes. The screaming of a thousand crying in an instant. There was no cleansing fire, or a corruptive embrace. There was only biting, gnawing, and hungering fangs. This was no curse though, this was the bit of a rabid hungry animal that sought only to destroy and feast.

The Spirit of Legion tries to run, a thousand faces trying to break away, but they are one now, need to unite and follow a single path of escape. They scream, a ghostly wail filling the forest as they’re fed upon. They do not go quietly into the night, they go pleading and suffering.

“I swear I hate it when that happens.” The stallion mutters, dismissing the symbol, watching it shatter like glass hit by stone.

“Me too.” The mare admits and sheathes her sword. “Can’t be helped though. We have no holy blades nor demonic ones, and mom would kick our asses if we used curses.” The mare admits as she looks at her counterpart. It’s like gazing into a mirror, expected considering their twins. Her the oldest, him the younger. Their manes are raven, their coats like coca, and their eyes are ember - like that of a cat. She looks at her hoof watches the self-inflicted cut heal before her eyes before sighing. “Anyway let’s go, we wasted what thirty minutes just dealing with the undead? We got a lot of ground to cover.”

“I hate that you’re right about that.” He brother admits as they start walking.

The moon watches, as it has for many nights now. It watches, silently judging the two and the rest of the world.

~Three Nights Ago~

“It’s about time you two got here.” The twins hear he voice and exhaustion crosses their faces. They are not tired of the one before them, but for other personal reasons. The mare before them is old with silver in her main and insomnia caressing her eyes. “For a moment I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“Sorry we got a little caught up Grandmaster.” The sister mutters in annoyance. She looks around, takes in her surroundings. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re already on their assignments.” The Grandmaster admits. “You would have caught them if you’d been here an hour earlier.” The mare admits. She doesn’t speak in a scolding manner, rather it’s understanding. They are young after all, as young as she once was so long ago. “Anyway I have work for you two.” They straighten up, though they do sigh in a bit of annoyance and resignation. “Forgive the expression but someone’s opened up Pandora’s box.” That makes the resignation disappear.

“What?” They say together.

“Tartarus.” The Grandmaster explains. “For eons now it’s been the perfect prison, designed for the greatest of monsters and demons to ever cross exist in this world. It doesn’t matter if they were spawned by Grogar; the father of Monsters, or by The Queen of the Netherworld. Every last thing, every great horrible being is bound behind Tartarus, and ever vigilant is it’s guard Cerberus.” The mare falls silent. “At least it was.” Before they could ask, as a sense of foreboding washed over them, the Grandmaster continued. “For some reason two weeks ago, Cerberus has left his post, and the gates have cracked open and what was locked within it is spilling out, returning to our world.”

“What exactly escaped?” The brother asks. Her answer made them pale.

“Everything.” She admitted. “Every horrible beast and unholy thing that was locked away, every prisoner - every monster.” The Grandmaster closes her eyes.

“How long do we have?” The sister feels shell regret that answer.

“Before there's hell on earth? Maybe a month.” The mare sighs in relief, one the Grandmaster shuts down. “That’s only because this will be global. That which was sealed away will try reclaiming their territories, be they on our continent or others. Dismissing that claim, regrettably it’s already started.” The Grandmaster states. As she pulls herself from her seat and heads toward the window. With a hoof she pushes it open, and there, beyond it, rests the moon hanging in the night sky, it’s hue a bleeding red. “That’s their sign. It means their already moving. Ready to cross ocean and sky to reclaim what was once theirs.”

“What do you want us to do?” The twins ask together.

“What you were trained to do.” The Grandmaster states as she reaches into her drawer and pulls out an envelope. “You will go where Tartarus resides, a nation by the name of Equestria. Our fastest airship will get you there in three days time.” She tells them. “Go to a town by the name of Ponyville, one of our outfitters resides there, they can help you, supply you with extra weapons and armor.” She tells them as the sister takes the envelope. “Give them this, and recite the Hunter’s Oath.so they know your true.”

“How will we know when we find them?” The sister asks.

“She carries the eyes that watch the world of mortals and spirits.” The Grandmaster states. “Also, in Equestria lies a set of Anti-Monster Agents, though they aren’t part of our circle, we share a common cause. They should be able to help you.”

“Right.” The twins said together before the Brother bites their lip.

“What about you Grandmaster, what will you do?” The mares falls silent as she touches her chest.

“I’m needed elsewhere.” She informs him. “Astray, Aeon, know this, in a months time the fate of the world will hang in the balance, but even now our enemy moves and strikes out, making land and gathering it’s forces.” She whispers at the end. “Take them down, and protect the lives of the tribes. Postpone the coming Dark Age as long as we can.” She orders. “Those are your orders, understood?”

“Yes Grandmaster.”

~Present~

Opening his eyes Astray looks to his sister, watching her slumber quietly. They’d been walking for four hours now, and chose to take a rest. Two hours each and switch to keep guard. Aeon looked peaceful and he chose to move carefully as to not wake her. Behind a tree but still in sight he took a needed leak before returning to his post. Attention snaps to the side and he watches something small, but harmless move in the distance. It looks to him, and under the shade of the trees his eyes glow with a light that sends it scampering off into the red hued night. He sighs and looks to his twin blade staring at his reflection. He sees the exhaustion, and resignation.

“Sometimes I hate this life.” He mutters to himself. He knew Aeon felt that way too.

This life was not one that they wanted, nor was it one that they chose, but it was what they inherited. This life, this job… there was more that. In their blood was that of legendary slayers, and hunters of monsters who went back hundreds and thousands of years. By comparison their bloodline was older than Equestria, which was a thousand years young. For countless centuries they fought the beasts of light and shadow, and for a thousand more their descendants would continue that fight. That was one of the rules of their society. To push back the Dark Age, and if it came they would dive deep into the dark and stain their bodies, minds and hearts.

To uphold that, they and many others had sacrificed much; lives, friends, normalcy. Astray couldn’t count how many nights he had abandoned his friends to uphold their vow. He couldn’t count how many allies he had lost in battles.

“Normal ponies my age would just be worried about getting a date, or meeting your special special somepony parents, Not the end of an age.” He muttered to himself. He doesn’t think on the subject any further, just shakes his head and stares out into the distance. When it’s time to switch he does just that, and when he wakes they move again. They move and kill and “exorcise” the lingering dead. They keep going, diving into deeper and darker groves.

It’s here they feel at home.