Rockhoof the Adventurer

by iowaforever

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Anthology, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Original Character, Rockhoof, Adventure
Length: 2271

The chronicles of Rockhoof, during the days of High Adventure

Between the time when the oceans drank Seaquestria, and the rise of the Children of the Stars, there was an age undreamed of. And unto this, Rockhoof! Late of the Mighty Helm and future strength of the Pillars of Equestria. What follows is the chronicles of his saga, tales of mighty deeds and great trials of days long past.

Read now of the days of High Adventure!

Vignettes inspired by Robert E Howard's Conan the Barbarian. Hope you enjoy.

Published 2019-10-23 15:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-10-23 15:20:02 UTC

The Bell of the Sorcerer, Part 1

The Bell of the Sorcerer

I

Hear now, that between the time when the oceans drank Seaquestria and her lofty buildings, and the rise of the Children of the Stars, there was an age undreamed of in times before and unmatched even in Celestia’s splendor. From the tribal kingdoms of the zebras, ruling from palaces of gold and cedar, to mighty Griffonstone rising from the peaks of Equestria, to the sands of Sonambula in the south to the snow swept mountains of Yakyakistan in the north, shining kingdoms spread countless across the realm, grand rulers watching from their citadels upon a world young and untamed. Unto this land came Rockhoof the Earth Pony, late of the Mighty Helm and future strength of the Pillars of Equestria. For want of adventure within his home he traveled to the east, carrying with him his shovel and what few worldly possessions he had from his home among the waves.

The ship was a swift galley, cutting through the waves like the keenest blade slicing through air. Rockhoof was not a pony to pay his way with mere coin and no second thought; lashed to an oar like any other sailor, he powered the vessel along with his great might and determination, pressing the vessel onward just as he dug that great trench that saved his homeland. The captain, a stern faced griffon of the north, took an interest in the mighty Earth Pony, but even the allure of the high sea was not enough to lure Rockhoof from his quest and his travels to the Eastern Kingdoms.

They arrived in the port of a grand city, yet to be lost to the sands of time and the dunes of the Saddle Arabian desert. Great spires of marble and limestone greeted the travelers as their vessel glided into the harbor, the entrance flanked by two grand statues of kings of days long forgotten. Rockhoof saw numerous workers busying themselves around the stone faces of the statues, appearing to lift some great carving up to rest upon their frozen brows.

Rockhoof was more familiar with digging, but there was little a good shovel could not lend itself well to.

“It’s a pity you’re leaving us, Rockhoof,” the captain said as they pulled beneath a white and golden seawall. “Your strength and determination are unlike any I have met in my life. Stay along, you’d make a fine captain someday.”

“I did enjoy myself, but the sea is not exactly the realm for me,” Rockhoof replied, hefting his shovel to his shoulder as he cast his gaze about the shimmering city. “Do you know much of this city?”

“Rumors,” the captain shrugged. “It’s a rich land, taking trade between Neighpon and Saddle Arabia. They say the stallions are wise ponies, studious of many arcane arts, and the mares are as fair as those that grace the halls of the gods. You are a strong warrior, great in body and mind; I am sure you will make a fine living here.”

“No doubt. I have heard of tyrants and sorcerers who love to stalk the lands beyond fair cities such as this. Perhaps my skills will be of some use to these merchants and wise ponies.” The captain said nothing, turning his focus upon the task of tying off his ship and prepping his cargo for the merchants’ stalls. Rockhoof gazed upon the white walls before him, looking about for ponies of power and stature that he might offer his services to.

But a deathly calm hung over the city, save for a lapping of water against the storm walls and the murmur of dockhands and sailors. The cant of merchants and the calling of town criers was not to be heard, the drumbeat of laborers as calm as a meadow in high spring. Fear was not a feeling that bothered Rockhoof in that day, but suspicion and doubt had laid claim to his mind as he looked upon the quiet white walls before him.

Perhaps it was a solemn day of celebration for the townsponies... or perhaps some great evil had befallen them. Whatever the case, Rockhoof would face it head on.

No sooner had the gangplank lowered did the great Earth Pony disembark, his pack of belongings tied around the shaft of his great shovel. The sailors and deckhands gave him a friendly parting, one last display of camaraderie before he stepped further down the road of his journey.

Now that he approached the gilded city, Rockhoof spied what passed for defenses among the populace. The entrance through the wall was marked with two doors; one was a grand structure plated with gold, overseen by the scowling image of some king or beast of times long past, while the other was a shabby thing more fit for a tavern than the entrance to a great city. No guards or sentries stood to greet the newcomer, yet another sign that sent a chill down the adventurer’s back. He swept his gaze across the walls, but no sign of life was to be had.

He approached the grand door, rapping his hoof against the great door to alert the populace of his arrival. “Hail, you of this great city!” he called, his voice echoing against the wall. “I am a traveler from lands far beyond your lofty gaze. I seek passage and refuge among your walls, and perhaps knowledge of whatever dangers lie within your lands.” there was a pause, Rockhoof looking about to see if anycreature would come to his aid. He prepared to call out once more before the small door opened, a harsh whisper reaching out to him.

“Through the narrow gate, traveler,” the voice said. “Lest you be spotted by those who watch these walls.”

“I fear no other creature,” Rockhoof said. “And would welcome that some might notice my arrival. But for your sake, friend, I will come with you.” Rockhoof shouldered his mighty spade and crossed to the door, slipping through and getting his first glimpse of the people within the city.

The pony before him was gaunt, rips poking through the soft yellow of his coat. Great bags rested under his eyes, and he shifted as if standing upon smoldering coals. Rockhoof rested a hoof on his shovel lest the pony prove a foe, though the question of how the creature before him still stood rose higher in his mind. “Friend, what has befallen you?” he asked. “Is there some great plague within your city that has stricken you?”

“Oh, if that were true,” the gaunt pony sighed. “Come, for the hour is growing long. Nopony wishes to be out at these times.” the pony turned, beckoning Rockhoof towards and alley leading in to the city. The adventurer followed, eyes darting about as he searched for the sign of what had driven such a pony to his current state. Weeks of travel aboard the merchant had left his senses dulled, his eyes unfocused. In time they would return, but Rockhoof would be damned if he was to be caught off guard.

The pony before him led Rockhoof to a small apartment near one of the great roads, its windows boarded shut. The pony knocked twice, pausing for several heartbeats before knocking again. The sound of heavy padlocks being pulled away greeted their ears, and soon Rockhoof found himself standing within a darkened room with the pony and several other shapes watching him from the dark.

“You brought an outsider here?” a wizened voice hissed. “What were you thinking?!”

“He speaks as somepony of authority, and claims to be an adventurer,” the first pony countered, rising up as best as his weakened stature could muster. “I could not leave him out in the open, where he may befall the fate of all others.”

“I wish that you would be so kind as to explain to me what the commotion is about,” Rockhoof offered. The shapes looked about to one another before turning to face the newcomer.

“One month to this day, when the moon was full above the city, a tolling bell chimed across the city,” the oldest pony said. “I am an old pony, friend, and know well the bells we have raised, and this one was unlike any that I had heard in my life. The very air seemed to shake with the ringing of this bell, the stones beneath my hooves trembling like the earth itself obeyed its commands.

“As the bell chimed out its siren’s call, a darkness fell over the city.” the old pony shivered, his hooves scraping against the floor as he continued. “I could not see more than a hoof’s length in front of me, but as the darkness fell I felt compelled to move. I cannot say what it was other than some foul enchantment, for as much as I fought and struggled to rush to my home I could only move towards the source of our woes, that damned bell and its hellish tolling piercing my soul and dragging me onward. Others around me I could hear, sons and daughters crying for their parents who themselves were entrapped by the bell. All of us marched onward, scraping and crying for a chance to break free and flee from the horrid magics around us.

“But then, as if the Goddesses themselves had heard our cries, the tolling ceased. My eyes were cleared and my legs grew strong again. I bolted from the field I had found myself and hurried to my home, joyful that I had been spared the fate of others.”

“What fate is this?” Rockhoof asked. “If this spell had worn off then why continue to hide in fear?” the room fell to deathly silence, the old pony looking to the others before he continued.

“I was freed, but many were not. The creature that cast this spell was not one to take all at once, or we would not be standing here speaking to you. I saw the great shadow loom over the mountains to the east, a line of ponies walking into that darkness... to what doom I cannot say, though I dread the time when I once more walk into the shadows.”

“Every night since that day the bell has tolled,” the first pony said. “Sometimes it takes a few, sometimes it tkes many, it cares not for age, sex, strength; all march off into that darkness and never return, their cries returning to us that hide and pray for the night to pass.”

“You have not thought to go and confront this creature?” Rockhoof asked, looking about the room from one pony to the next. “Sorcerers and practitioners of dark magics are cowards, else they would have no reason to turn to such power. It would take but a few brave ponies to seek out its hiding spot and cast down this horrid bell, and then you shall be free again.”

“I do not know of what things are like where you are from, stranger,” the old pony said. “But these foul magics are beyond our ken. Our greatest mages and wise ponies have tried to ward against it, or have gone themselves to seek out the source, but all have failed. This is an evil that cannot be overcome.”

“Nonsense,” Rockhoof cried, pulling himself up straighter as he spoke. “I have bested great beasts and turned back the flows of volcanoes. All were tasks that were believed unreachable, but I am Rockhoof of the Mighty Helm. In my sight there is nothing that cannot be achieved with hard work, patience, and a good shovel. You may have failed in standing against this darkness, but perhaps I can match this creature and find what has befallen your fellows.”

“It is a fool’s errand you follow, adventurer.” the old pony said, shaking his head. “Nopony, no matter how strong or wise, has been able to break through the bell’s magic on their own. If you pursue this quest, you will vanish into the mountains as all the others, and your name will be stricken from the annals of time.”

“I do not intend to fall to the magic of sorcerers today, good friend,” Rockhoof replied. “Though strength be my greatest asset, I am not so dull as to charge ahead without a care for myself. You say this bewitching bell tolls every night, and many of your fellows have fallen under its grasp? Very well, tonight we shall put your tormenter’s spell against my strength, and see just where the foul beast has taken his prize.”

“The old folks here may not assist you in your endeavor,” the pony who first lead Rockhoof through the blighted town said. “But I have lost much and care not for the risks, not if there is a chance to free our city. Come, let us plot our attack against the sorcerer, and we may yet turn his snares to dust.” Rockhoof nodded, for he saw within the gaunt pony a spark that had long been hidden from the world. Doubts of his strength may have entered his mind, fears of what horrors awaited him as he stood against the dark, but his shovel had been planted and he would not bend to the wills of foul magic.

The strength of earth would be his weapon. The might of the world would be at his back against the dark.

Author's Note

This is an idea that's been bopping around my head since January, and finally I was able to get something hashed out.