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                 Malfiore - Seeds of Evil                  
                      -by Edge_Anon-                       
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                    THE BOOK ASHTAROTH                     
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THE BOOK ASHTAROTH
“THE BOOK ASHTAROTH. RED AND BLACK. THE QUEEN’S HEXAGRAM. READ IT READ IT READ IT.”
Red jolted awake, suddenly and completely. He looked upon his pocket watch. Just 20 minutes had passed. It was rare that it spoke to him again, and he couldn’t say if that was a good or bad thing. In any case, he knew better than to disobey. But first…
The canteen practically unscrewed itself. One gulp, two gulps, and it was empty. Red had to brace for the exhilaration to hit, and it nearly took him off his hooves, leaving a marching buzzing in his head. His mind was now sharp as his fangs, and thirsty too.
The book was hidden between two giant tomes on traditional Equestrian magic. Small, inconspicuous, with an almost tender red design. It was wrapped in leather – something that would make the average equestrian shudder, but left Red unmoved. There was a hexagram on the cover (that six-pointed thing must be a hexagram, right?). In any case he placed it between failed alchemical experiments on the dinner table and greeted the smell of old book as he pried open the yellowed pages. A quiet part of his mind asked itself what Dent would think, but the thought left as fast as it came to him.
The door unlocked, and a yawning Dent wandered through, the bags under his blue eyes still strong as ever. He found his living room messier than usual, and a vampire crouched over his books.
“Uhh, why… are you reading my books?”
He tapped on his shoulder, and this might have been the first time he ever saw a vampire surprised.
“Huh?”, he turned his head around. Red looked more bedraggled than before.
“Uh, yes. Yes I am.”
“I asked why.”
‘Because there is a voice in my head that tells me to do stuff.’, Red thought.
“Because… I wanted to know about the history, culture and political situation of Magehold and the so-called Dread League?”
The unicorn sighed and shook his head, letting the blue locks bounce around.
“Stars on me. You’re in luck I am not like the others of the Necromantic League, they would have been a little irate about a vampire reading their books. Next time, ask, for star’s sake. This isn’t a library.”
Red nodded. Those were usually organized, yes.
“Alright. I apologize. Speaking of Necromantic League…”
Dent rolled his eyes. Here come the questions.
“You’re not a member of the league, are you?”
He bit his lip, almost a little insulted.
“No. I am not.”
“Because of-“
“Marekore. Yes. Because of Marekore.”
Marekore - Epithet, ‘The Terrible’ - was the current Deathlord incumbent and leader of the Necromantic League and Iron Circle. His reign started with an iron hoof and has only gotten stricter and more paranoid through the centuries. The greed and fear must have come to a zenith in recent decades, because the Necromantic League hasn’t ever been this dysfunctional as it appeared to be now. As was common with ‘Magocracies’ (the author was a vampire seemingly disliking of mages, and spent several chapters incoherently rambling about them and their wretched magocratic ways).
“I thought so.”
“Yeah, I am just glad to be undead still,” he laughed, and a small phial bounced from his neck. Perhaps as large as a pistol round it shimmered pink against the white fur. Red smiled as he now recognized it.
Phylactery, noun. Usually a small, inconspicuous object used by liches to store their soul and prevent themselves from dying. Usually protected by interwoven, protective counterspells. Easily destroyed once exposed from them, killing the lich eternally. Red did not know a lot about magic, but this new knowledge seemed to be easy to apply. That there was Dent’s phylactery, the source of his immortality. The apparent vulnerability of the sight gave Red a weird feeling.
Dent opened his front door, a piercing cold breeze immediately invading the house. He sniffed the air.
“Colder than yesterday,” he mused. He said ‘yesterday’ but how does he even know? There was no night or day here, just twilight and more twilight. He looked back and floated the brown bag to his side. The unicorn peered inside, and what was in there gave him a dumb grin. He looked up and spoke to Red.
“Up for a walk?”
“-yes, yes I know. I get the concept. But, if you really, really, don’t want to die… why not just become a vampire?”
“Good stars, no. Not that.”
“I mean… I feel fine.”
“I… yes, of course. Sorry, it’s just that…,” he sighed,”…necromancers are a little sensitive on that topic. Rightfully so, because it is so alluring. And there are some that have taken up your… offer.”  
He swallowed.
“And yea, what came of them. Not to mention the other ... downsides.”
“Downsides?”
“Oh stars, maybe the unrelenting desire to slice open ponies and drink from their veins?”, he scoffed.
“Mhh, that.”
Red bit his lip, and felt a twinge that bled a little crimson into his mouth, sweet and lovely. He swallowed with greed.
“It’s not too bad, to be honest.”
“Maybe not for you… but some, like those dreadful hybrids I mentioned before, it is… possessive. Not to mention other strange … quirks. Just ask your queen sometime.”
“My … what?”
“The blood coven’s queen,” he added in passing. The snow crunched underneath their hooves.
“I thought I served a king? Alukah, heir to Orlok the Third, or whatever that name was?”
“Oh. No. That was… a little while ago,” he seemed a little unsure of what to say next.
“The book must have been older than I thought. He was your king, now …”
The unicorn looked to the Fangs, and watched as the shadows cascaded into the valley where they stood. They moved like black drapes across the houses, and would reach them soon. The boards and whatever else held the buildings here together seemed to shiver in the breeze, and even Red felt a little tense at the sensation. Dent couldn’t stand the sight any longer and let his gaze fall.
“He is dead. They are all dead. The Crimson Guard took them all…”
He laughed in a funny way that made Red uneasy.
“For the record, and despite all the downsides I do have to agree after all. You vampires are… robust, I agree. But she didn’t care, she figured out a way and killed them all.”
Dent met Red’s eyes for a moment before turning and beginning to move again. But Red had to know more, he had to pry.
“How, please, tell me how!”, he begged.
“The stake, Red. Upside down, impaled, for 7 nights and 7 days. Alukah, his advisors, his noble houses, his concubines, his servants. In their uniforms or nightgowns. All upside down on wood, choking on it like a fish on land. One after another onto the poles.”
His gaze was empty, somewhere else.
“The Crimson Guard marks their armor with little red notches. One for every soul. The knives of Alalyi – ‘her fangs’, they call it. There were ponies there, Red, only covered in red from helmet to hoof.”
His hoof tapped nervously, and somewhere, a gate opens, iron creaking like a waking giant.
“I… I always thought us necromancers and ghouls were the majority… but Red, she called upon all of you. All vampires should see how Alukah ends, and it must have been tens of thousands, no, stars, hundreds of thousands!”
Hundreds of thousands. Red’s thoughts began to churn, and his breath stuck to his throat. An army of vampires, an army of bats. Something that could change the tides of history.
“After it was all over, there were no more vampire rulers, no vampiric nobility or houses, no high priests or clergymares.”
Somewhere else, steel began to march, crashing into the ground rhythmically. Cold and martial was the sound that turned Red’s bones to ice and both found themselves wanting to keep moving.
“Only Maledicta remains.”
A part of Red’s soul screamed at that name. He did not know why, he just felt it creeping down his spine in horror. For a moment it felt as though he was mortal again, and shivering like a foal.
“Why… why do you know all this?”, he plead.
“She forced us to bear witness.”
He tried to shake the thoughts in his mind. The red book said a vampire’s thoughts were not his own, but part of a greater well of consciousness all connected through their blood. Red of course rejected that idea offhoof. Then why, he wondered, was he scared of a name he never heard with his own ears? Was it even his own fear? The thoughts raced and danced in his mind. He tried to cast them off, but they seemed to fight against it.
“Where are we going, anyway?”
“I have to pay rent.”
“That’s… the sack, right?”
“That’s the sack, right.”
The two came to a crossing where a sign floated upside down. The heart of the sprawl seemed to be fairly close now, and Red gawked at every weird creature slithering or limping around. When they walked straight ahead, looming red-black banners greeted them, hanging from poles on every corner. Equally red and black marble was underhoof, detailing goddess-knows-what in alien frescos. There were stalls here… a marketplace then?
Ponies here seemed to keep to themselves, and Red appreciated that, but he couldn’t help but notice an odd sort of party marching through the square a little out of view. He squinted his eyes, keeping up with Dent’s lazy pace. A unicorn, visibly older than Dent, was together, seemingly in charge of a limping, lumpy looking sort of quartet. They were armed with brooms and swept snow poorly. How somepony could sweep poorly was a mystery to Red, but he saw it nonetheless. What was even more mysterious was the oddly familiar red and gold farm-equipment-insignia on their brownish uniform.
“Dent…”
“Huh?”, he flinched from the hoof on his shoulder.
“Dent why is…”
“Oh, stars. You’re right. I forgot to do my hair, stars damn it,” he cursed at himself.
“What? No! Why am I seeing communists?”
“Huh?”, he looked over. The quartet turned on a dime, sweeping in a different direction at a leisurely pace.
“Oh, those. Just ignore those.”
Such a bizarrely specific thing was kind of hard to ignore. Red strained his neck to look at them for just a while longer, but the sight did not last. He chose to keep up the pace, almost knocking over a crate of oddly normal apples.
“Apples here any good?”
“Don’t eat those, trust me,” the unicorn gave sternly.
He dove into a small side road off the square, walked for a bit, and there she was. She stood next to a yawning opening in the wall, the extravagant black dress merging with the dark. Red and silver strands hung over the occultic knickknack, a small smoking cigarette tucked between one of her fangs. She wasn’t smiling when she pulled it out to speak.
“Who is your friend?”
“Oh, he?”, he patted Red on the shoulder.
“I found him lumbering around the dead sea. Can you believe that Lilly?”
Red looked at Dent intensely, almost as if his first normal interaction with another vampire was ruined for no reason.
Her voice is toxic and harsh.
“My name is Lilith.”
“I’m Red.”
She nodded, face without expression again.
“Hey Red. Is that true?”
“Well… I wouldn’t have worded it like that.”
“Should have stayed gone,” she pulls out a new cigarette from somewhere within her dress. The vampire mare lights it and puffs a fresh cloud.
“Now, you’re stuck here forever.”
This gave Red mixed feelings. Dent raised the brown bag for them to see, as if it were a real nice gift for hearth’s warming eve. He seemed mighty proud of it too.
“I got rent.”
“About time,” she groaned. Lilith stepped into the dark, Dent eager to follow. It looked like a warehouse, dusty and ill-kempt, wooden crates of varying sizes stacked high where one couldn’t see them anymore. She walked a precarious thin path between the sea of containers, and Red was almost exploding to peer into one of the things to see what type of goods were stored here. There was a small clearing in the center, where an out of place table was degraded to be a shelf for various tools and what Red thought might be records of transactions.
Lilith kicked a box, and a wooden beam swung out, holding a golden scale on a thin hair. Dent, sweaty and panting again, looked nervously to the sack as he floated it to the scale pan. It carefully set down onto the metal, and Red almost thought it was too light to register. Then, slowly, the scales began to move. One notch, two, three…
Her frown was etched deeper and deeper into her muzzle, fangs gnashing as she watched. Dent was vibrating as he took in the sight, playing with his phylactery antsily. It made a tinkling sound that got on Red’s nerves.
“Lots of bugs,” whistled Red.
“Indeed,” she took a deep drag of her cigarette. The thick aroma wafted over to Red, and he recognized the smell faintly. What was it? His nose wrinkled in repulsion.
“Excuse the question, but what are you doing with those … things?”
“I sell the brainbugs to the ghouls. They pay a lot for those. Don’t ask why they do, I don’t know and don’t care.”
He scanned the rest of the clearing in between the ocean of stored goods. More of those mysterious, shiny red apples everywhere. Crude, wooden things that looked eerily close to what he played with in the orphanage, paintings that looked like they were scribbled on. Gemstones, diamond rings, paintings that might have made even an old master fume with jealousy. Instruments of music, instruments of torture. Weapons, though Red felt silly calling them that. Sharp metal on sticks. Then, some strange brown packages and pots that evoked a strange sense of nostalgia in him. While Dent and Lilith were haggling over the current exchange rate of bug to rent, he walked over and stuck his nose into a bag.
“Whew,” he recoiled. It was like her cigarette, magnified a thousand times. Balmy, tangy, reeking and fat in the air. Like a drop of gasoline on a mound of rotting spices. His mouth curled into a smile. Atzlan Hay, Ma-ri-hu-a-na. This day just keeps getting stranger and stranger, and the realization made him laugh a long, dazed laugh.
“What’s the matter, barrel of laughs?”
“Lilith, ha,” he was still chuckling,”… how, how do I get into the Fangs?”
Red looked at her, and instead of something conceited and sarcastic, she took another drag and began to laugh. Red found that really funny, and joined in. Dent too, nervously.
“What’s, uhh, what’s so funny?”, he asked.
“Oh, oh, nothing,” she put out her spliff and sighed.
“Your friend here has a death wish, that’s all. Next thing he’ll ask is probably how he can get an audience with queen Maledicta herself.”
“That…yeah that’s what I was going to say.”
She grinned and chuckled, exhaling deeply.
“Forget it foal, go drink some bloodwine and enjoy yourself while we still can. Tempting fate is a dangerous thing.”
She turned away from Red, fishing out a small purse from her dress. Dent’s eyes began to sparkle as he saw the coins.
“Here, never thought I would actually pay you anything. Don’t spend it all on crystals you half-wit.”
It was as the coins poured into dents hoof, that time began to limp, then stop. The air was still except for Red’s breath, and despite him standing there in the room with them, he felt like he was a million miles away. Red looked at them, but they were as unmoving as statues. His stomach began to twist into a knot. Something was wrong, and a horrible, guilty feeling crept up his spine as a chill terror. It felt like he was standing there for hours, waiting for something to happen. A weight began to gather on his shoulders, and it took so long to figure out what that feeling was. He felt watched. It felt there were eyes on his neck, and when he wanted to turn around he found himself unable to. Like a snake the presence slowly coiled towards his back, sliding up his neck, intangible yet bone-chilling. The scream was high in his throat but couldn’t come out. Into his ear, it whispered...
Author's Note
waiter, waiter, more horse words please!!!
In all seriousness, I hope the reading was digestible. Infrequent time to write makes for strange storytelling. Still driven.

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                  BRIBE HER WITH COCAINE                   
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BRIBE HER WITH COCAINE
“BRIBE HER WITH COCAINE!”
The weight on his shoulders dropped suddenly. He was not sure what had occurred, and it felt like he just awoke from a year long slumber, but the words were here. In his mind as thoughts, and fast on his tongue.
“How much cocaine do I have to give you?”
“Wha-“
“How much, for you to show me the way?”
It sounded like a joke, that Red conceded, but he didn’t feel like laughing. Unlike Lilith. She only stopped when the orbs were dropping from her eyes. The spliff hissed under her hoof, squished onto the ground, the laughter still spilling from her mouth in bursts.
“Oh, oh mare, Dent, Dent, where did you pick up this – this filly here. I needed that, haha, oh wow.”
He looked to his hooves.
“I’m not kidding.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek, and that ugly, spiteful look returned. The vampire mare nodded.
“Yeah, me neither. No. Final answer.”
Red bit down, so hard that he feared his teeth may break. That look, that snooty pout was something that was starting to get onto his nerves. He felt as if there was a cold wind blowing. From somewhere, somewhere that was near but still not here. It was uneasy, making his hooves jittery. He looked onto the crooked cigarillo that lay there sparking its last embers. Again, the words found him.
“I don’t think you have judged this situation correctly.”
He dug into his saddlebag and took something out with his mouth. The vampony gently placed the brown bag onto the floor, it looking like packed lunch. Though this was nothing to be snacked in one sitting. He began explaining to the mare.
“This is one pound of cocaine.”
Red saw immediately, beneath that carefully maintained mask of disinterest, the unmistakable twitch of curiosity. This mare had vices, that much he already learned. Her eyes were glued to the small mystery bag in front of her, and a new small cigarette appeared from her soot-black dress. It was lit fast and inhaled faster.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I smuggle. Out of hobby, of course, as one does,” he tapped the bag, “I know what one pound of cocaine is worth. One pound of cocaine can open many doors and make loose quite some favors.”
He poked the bag idly. It felt almost like a bag of flour.
“For just one pound of cocaine. A whole Wingbardian shipment of weapons, diverted to where I want it. One pound of cocaine, and the rich mares in Manehattan gave me the key to every secret, obscure and elitist hotbed of the super- and ultrarich, scum of the earth… I’m just wondering, Lilith…”
It shook like a foal’s rattle in his hoof and her eyes followed it, as if hypnotized. He held it up for her eyes to see better.
“What one pound of cocaine can do here? What could two do? Three?”
She snapped out of her daze, eyes flattering.
“Cut the storytime! What the hay do you want?”
“A tour through the Fangs. Nothing more, nothing less. Show me how to get in.”
Silence.
She looked away.
The wind rattled at the gate, and the tension began to stretch itself in the air. A little drop of moisture landed on Red’s hoof, dripping from a leaky roof tile far up where light didn’t reach. His coat seemed tighter.
Her voice seemed resigned.
“You don’t know what it is like… in there. It has always been a death trap. A predictable death trap. But now…”
Her eyes found his so suddenly that Red almost jumped. In an instance all the disappointment was replaced by sudden fury. He stepped back in alarm.
“Do you even know what will happen to you?! When the inquisition finds you? Finds me?”
Her eyes inched close to his, and up close they boiled with anger. Her lips shook as they spoke, and the cigarette butt seemed close to be bitten off.
“You don't get it. You just don't get it! Out here - it's dangerous - in there it's madness! Do you hear me, Red? You must be feeling invincible? Do you think I didn't have youngblood friends like you? Do you know how many of those they took?! Do you know what they did to them?! In there, it’s madness! MADNESS!!”
Her hot breaths wafted against his muzzle, still smelling of the balmy stank. Red almost got queasy from it.
“I have to stay OUT HERE so nopony else gets dragged IN THERE! Now would you mind – tell me, tell me what the fuck makes you think you can buy me to help you kill yourself?!”
“I’m sorry, Lilith. I didn’t kn-”
“Stick your damn apology up-”
He raised his voice to get a word in.
“But believe it or not - I know what that’s like! To lose friends.”
Her indignant stare dug deep – an insult on her tongue, surely, but she listens. It felt like a burden around his neck, the things he just summoned from where he locked them away. Yet he found he wanted to keep talking, and somehow that disgusted him. Some things should be left locked away, but there was no choice.
“Out there, where I come from... I know what it's like, Lilith. I've lost many."
The contents of the sentence didn’t hit Red himself until he said it. Brothers and sisters in arms… and now, what are they? What became of their memory? Did anybat else remember them, besides him? A dreadful thought. The heavy feeling on his shoulders began to multiply as he realized he stopped talking.
“I’ve … I’ve lost friends… I’m losing friends right now, Lilith. An ocean away, right now."
He felt himself choking.
"They're killing us.”
This was you could bring yourself to say? Go on, revel in those disgusting images in your head. Reel them all in, here, all of it. All of the horror.
Red couldn’t help but see. The Orphanage. The Manehattan streets, the grime and filth. The jungle. The dead. Equestrian. Thestral. Stallions, mares, fillies. They looked so peaceful. An orange-yellow pony and a dresser. Don’t cry, by the goddess, don’t you dare. The lump in his throat coalesced, but despite the watering eyes he kept silent. He could only watch the tear drop to his hooves. Red gathered himself with all the strength he had. A shaky breath, then a shaky sentence.
“I know madness, Lilith. Out there, it’s madness. I can’t give up now… I need this, please. If only you knew what was at stake.”
Doubt was washed away, finally. A younger Red might have not have had the strength, but here he was. Changed. He met her gaze, and she seemed to shrink at it. The pout was unsettled, and finally moved to respond.
“Three bags, and I’ll do it,” she conceded.
“Three bags,” Red nodded.
“And don’t come back until you have it,” she spat.
He thanked her, turned on his heel and excused himself.
“That was … intense.”
The gate slammed shut with a great din, a blue-haired unicorn stepping into the cold next to Red. The latter had calmed his nerves enough to think clearly once again. He wiped down his face and eyes one last time, so nobat could see that filthy weakness dripping down his cheeks.
“Yeah… intense would be one word for it. Is she always like this?”
“Like this? Like… good looking?”
“Dent…”
“Oh, you mean, oh, yeah she has an attitude if that’s what you meant. But you… seemed to have struck a nerve.”
Red chuckled.
“I heard I was good at that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, sure seems like it…”, his gaze seemed more serious all of a sudden, “Red… why do you want to, you know… get into The Fangs?”
Red didn’t have an easy answer to this. Well it was an easy answer, but ‘a voice in my head told me to’ doesn’t exactly make for an easy conversation.
“I… need to speak to Rosa Maledicta,” he stated plainly.
Dent looked like Red said something to the effect of ‘I am literally going to kill myself’ – and Red understood why those statements might be interchangeable, but he explained himself anyway.
“I’m here, in this ice desert of fuck-all to ask a powerful…”, Goddess what was she again? Vampire magician necromancer sorceress? “…monarch of the vampiric dynasties and necromancy to help me free my people. Does that sound… sane?”
The layer of sweat on Dent’s forehead seemed to have solidified into an icy film that added to the already greasy façade of his. He gave a weak smile.
“I might have heard more insane talk, but considering where we’re at… stars above... moderately sane? But… alright enough for a reason I suppose. Still... you have a death wish.”
For some reason, that made the corners of Red's mouth curl into a grin.
Red looked in the direction of the marketplace, where the undead work detail still circled their snow around. The unending shade of the citadel slowly crept across the space, ominously so. The masonry of the huddled houses seemed to shiver at its approach.
"Dent... why's there shade if there's no sun?"
Aforementioned unicorn proceeded to drop a shiny coin into the dirt, cursing something and picking at the ruined currency with his hoof.
"Stars damn it, that was the rarest one... what? Well ... honestly, now that you mention it, I have no idea. I don't go outside much."
Red bit his tongue, otherwise it might have commented on that. Instead of commenting, he focused on the mind-numbing task of stuffing the damn cocain back into the brown baggie that burst during a rather unfortunate landing (he apparently was an even worse flier than he remembered). It was like confetti inside his backpack, which would be funny if it wasn't so damn expensive. His knife slid past the white lines, always leaving tiny heaps of the narcotic on the crate instead of all joining the packet again.
Another scoop, another scoop. Chunk rolls out because the heap became to large. Oh for goddess' sake...
"Great..."
He decided to call it quits while he still had some sanity left. When he rubbed the leftovers onto his nose, Dent's voice came from his shoulder.
"Uhh, Red?"
"Yes? What is it?", he resealed the package with the most annoying roll of adhesive tape that must have been personally created to torment him.
"Do you think that... and, really, by the stars I swear I am not judging your decision-making... but do you really think that breaking into the Fangs is the way to go about this?"
Red rubbed the irritating leftover strand of tape onto the crate to somehow get rid of it. He turned to Dent, who was munching on some apple peels.
"I know you're concerned, Dent... but..."
"...but?"
"I didn't gargle piss in the jungle for years just so I stop now."
"Even, with what Lily said?"
"Yes," he patted him on the shoulder, something that should convince the unicorn just as much as the vampire stallion. Dent nodded, finding the gesture sufficiently convincing. Putting his now freshly polished coin into his odd wizardly pouch, he produced something that seemed to resembled wood waste. To his astonishment, he stuffed that into his mouth as if it had been candy. Red-green shavings... Red wasn't a regular eater, not for quite some time, but that stuff seemed... odd.
"What even is that..." Red pointed to the wooden bowl the unicorn was carrying around.
"Mmph?" Oh, Applshvings," Dent swallowed, "...want some?"
"No. Thanks."
Red was used to food waste, but those shavings really looked pre-digested. Maybe just 'digested'. What's with all these apples...
"You know, I haven't seen you eating anything besides those... apple looking things..."
"Well... I think they're apples. They're nothing special or anything, that's why I'd advise against eating them if you don't have to. Which you don't, as you know..."
"Yeah, but ... where are those apples coming from, again? I don't see any trees around..."
Dent thought for a moment, pausing mid-chew.
"Oh, oh yeah... I think the iron circle has a pony that only does apples, I think. Something like that..."
Red raised a brow.
"Does ... apples?"
"Yeah, you know, creates them. Using magic. From other apples."
Huh. That got Red thinking. What if...
"Those iron circle ponies... do they magic ... other stuff?"
Dent seemed confused by the question.
"Yeah, by the stars, that's like the only reason Marekore keeps them around. Why'd you ask?"
"You think they could ... create other stuff? Like tools or... this?"
Red swung his rifle onto his hooves, presenting the .57 calibre to Dent with reserved giddiness. Dent looked at the stamped steel tenatively.
"Well, stars... I don't know. I suppose you'd have to ask..."
"Worth a shot..." Red flung the thing back onto his back. Something to keep in mind...
"For goddess' sake, didn't you tell her to come right away?"
"I did, but you know how she is."
"I met her today, Dent. How should I know how she is?"
"I don't know, maybe those supreme vampire senses of yours tell you that along with the weather next weekend."
Red shook his head, not being able to supress his smile. This unicorn sure was something.
"Since you now know why I'm here ... Dent, what does a sillycat magician want in Magehold?", Red formed the snow around his hooves idly.
"Silicate..." Dent mumbled silently.
"Oh, excuse me. What drives silikit magician to Magehold? Does it have an abundance of your precious rock deposits?"
Dent bobbed his head from side to side, blue mane swaying gently.
"Oh, well, you know. Rocks here are alright. But, stars know I'm not here for the rocks," he leaned over to whisper to the vampony, "...don't tell anyone... but..."
"...I've always wanted to be the king of Deponya."
"De...ponya?" Red asked incredulously.
"Not so loud!" Dent shushed aggressively, "...but yes, Deponya, the small country next to the Griffonian Empire? It's a small country. It has lots of mountains, and spiders, and..."
"Yes, yes I know. I've seen a map of the world before, yes. But why?"
Dent looked around and scanned the scenery for potential eavesdroppers, which Red found rather silly since they both were in an unmarked alleyway in the middle of nowhere. He shoved more apple residue into his mouth and quietly mumbled.
"Mhh, why noth? Pwetty Cashthls," he chowed down the 'food', "...relatively uninteresting for empires of conquest. And last but not least, the crystal deposits there are just fantastic. Did you know that?"
"As a matter of fact, I didn't."
Red also didn't particularly care about rocks. But this unicorns little plan seemed to leave him with a curious sort of sympathy. It was... a little whimsical, sure. But Red couldn't deny that such things had an effect on him. Kind of endearing.
"Well... Dent... how about I help you do that?"
Dent's eyebrows shot up. There was disbelief in his gaze.
"You... you'd help me?"
Red shrugged.
"Sure. Why not? I mean, you helped me out. It's only fair."
"Alright, and how would you help?"
That was an excellent question.
"I don't know. Maybe chat with Maledicta about it. See what we can do."
A snorted, blowing air out of his nostrils. He chuckled, and that made the blue streaks of his mane bounce.
"You really are insane... irrecoverable insane."
Red crossed his hooves, chuckling along with him.
"I prefer... ambitious."
Dent kept laughing for a little while longer, while Red counted the shell casings in his pack.
"What are you two laughing about?"
Red looked up and there she was, with freshly painted lips and silver strands that glistened in the half-sun.
"Hello to you too," Red rose to his hooves. He pointed to the clay jug that was precariously balanced on her back, "... what's that?"
She took it into her hooves and shoved it underneath Red's nose. The odor hit him instantly. Iron. His mouth started watering.
"Oh. For me?" He gently tapped his hooves together.
Lilith seemed annoyed at the quip. She sat the blood down.
"For us. So we don't keel over with thirst."
"Huh, generous."
"I can still change my mind if you prefer."
Red bit his lip.
"Fine. I was just... surprised, that's all."
He unscrewed his canteen with his lips, and asked Dent to hold the jug. The crimson slowly oozed into his metal container, with Lilith watching nervously.
"Careful. That stuff was expensive. You're lucky your payment is too. I didn't want to rip you off, that would have been bad for business."
"Wouldn't be your first bad review..." Dent commented as he floated the clay pitcher carefully.
"Shut," she hissed.
Red screwed the canteen closed, throwing it back into the pack. He looked around, searching for wether they actually were in the spot she specified. Lilith noticed his searching, and shook her head, her crescent ear rings tinkling. The crate that served them as a dinner table was violently shoved aside by her, leaving apple shavings in the dirt. Dent looked at them with sadness.
"Those cost me an eigth ounce of crystals."
"Quit it and help me raise the lid, hornhead."
Red joined the two, staring at the pony-sized square iron seal in the ground once obscured by the crate. The vampony mare took a hold of the handle, and almost swung the whole thing into Dent's jaw. It fell to the ground with a hefty chime, lightly dampened by the snow.
Below there was darkness. It smelled vaguely of wet stone and dirt. Dent didn't seem to like the sight, but he wasn't going to join the two anyway. Red thought about how deep the hole must be, and the thought made him swallow involuntarily. He looked up at Lilith, who seemed resolute as ever.
"Uhh, lady's first?"
She sighed, and put one hoof onto the stave below.
The interior of the sewers below were seemingly larger on the inside, and Red never thought such a tiny speck in the frost would need facilities this far-reaching. The walkways next to the cloaca were not exactly clean, but walkable and only rarely overgrown with greened copper pipes. Red walked a few paces behind Lilith, while the rifle on his back bobbed up and down.
Now that the light from above was nigh exhausted the vampire mare took out a small crystal from her dress - just what else was in there, Red wondered - and tapped against it. The rock floated from her hoof, shimmering bluely and illuminating the space on the walkway. Though he kept walking, Red did not like this sort of artificial light. In the jungle, campfires and torches are a fast route to a bullet to the head. That didn't exactly seem likely here, but Red felt exposed regardless. What could be watching from the dark?
"I've only heard stories..." her voice rung from the crumbling bricks around. Red had yielded to his urge to pry about those stories she hinted at, and she obliged. Surprisingly enough.
"They, they put you into a sort of ... blob. Of flesh."
"Like, a prison, or...?"
"No, your spirit, dummy. Soul or whatever else is in here," she patted her head.
"A thing you can't die in, but can still feel. I heard their dungeons are full of those things..."
That hardly quelled the queasy feeling in Red's stomach.
"Wow, sounds great..." he looked to his hooves, not quite sure what to do with the info.
"Well, good. Keep up the pace, I don't wish to investigate those stories."
There was a fork in the way ahead, and Lilith chose right. In the pale light of the crystal coiled swathes of mist across the masonry, as if it were an early summer morning. It dripped from above and all around, flowing together in the canal. To where? Perhaps that was where they were headed, Red mused.
It was strange, considering the colder it is the less moisture is in the air. Maybe there was heat coming from the earth? The crystal empire had thermal springs, perhaps there were some here too? Red almost slipped on the path, and bumped into Lilith's flank.
"Watch out, idiot," she pointed. Red followed her hoof, and saw where all the water went.
Here, the stream abruptly stopped to become a waterfall that shot into the depths, along with dozens upon dozens. From large to small, they trickled into the chasm below, into a large body of water that shimmered blue like the crystal next to the vampony mare. The walkways circled the large gorge and criss-crossed above it in wobbly looking bridges of stone. Red dreaded the notion, but already saw Lilith picking out one of the wonky things leading across the gap.
"Sightsee sometime else. Come on, move!"
"Okay, okay, goddess..."
Lilith seemed to not mind the height, Red seemed to mind a lot. But the view was something to behold at least. While he crawled along behind her, more trails of vapor slowly rose from below, slow as clouds. They touched the ceiling, where grand spikes of bluish ice pointed down. It seemed the ever-present decay was more pronounced on the ceiling. There were cracks that leaked light into the space, and the rays made the ice sparkle. The rifle on his back made for a shaky balancing rod, but eventually Red managed to cross the wide gap. He set his shaky hooves back onto solid ground, next to the impatient Lilith.
He barely gathered his wits when she dove into the next branch of the sewer. The light behind them vanished, and again the crystal served as the only source of light. Red felt the urge to ask if they knew where they were going, but it turns out he didn't have to voice it.
"This is... new."
Red looked at the crumbly wall before them. Bricks that were probably older than Equestria stood before them - just barely, by the looks of them.
"We should be going straight, yes?"
"Yes," she nodded, looking the wall up and down.
Red briefly toyed with the thought of sticking a grenade between the cracks, but then again, he didn't want to be buried alive down here. If the masonry barely held on as it was, explosives surely weren't wise.
"So?" Red looked over to the mare. She tapped her hoof, deliberating.
"We go around. No other option."
She made a turn on her heel and fastly dove into the dark. Red trotted behind her to catch up. It was a curious thing. Even though he didn't need to breathe, he felt like breathing faster. He couldn't freeze, he couldn't suffer a heatstroke even in the midday sun of the Equestrian south, yet he couldn't stand holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee. No need for sleep, but Red couldn't break the habit. It had something... familiar about it. Or was it a shred of mortality, clinging to him? His rifle bobbed up and down, and its weight was somehow comforting.
The pipes aggregated above the walkways, joining them on their path. They were noisy, rattling and hissing sometimes, shooting streams of hot vapor into their way. Red watched his step, not feeling like getting singed in the face by a feral jet. His eyes straight ahead, he peered through the growing mist. Little alcoves were all around. Red felt watched.
"Lilith, are you-"
"Not this again. Yes I am sure we are going the right way. Stop asking."
"I meant-"
Before Red could give voice to his concerns, the concerns manifested themselves as a pair of red eyes, peering from a small hollow in the wall. She followed his eyes, and froze as well. The red orbs belonged to a furry, frail thing. He got closer to view it better. The alcove hissed, and Red stepped back from the sight of bared, white fangs.
"Easy..." Red spoke, slowly producing something from his pack. The colt - too old to be a filly for certain - alternated between apprehension and intimidation at the stranger, until his gaze became transfixed onto the shiny metal canteen. Red unscrewed the lid, and the colt must have smelled the contents.
"Are you thirsty?" Red shook the container, and the colt carefully snuck forwards, curious yet guarded. "I won't hurt you..."   
Red slowly tilted the canteen, until a slim stream of red trickled out. The colt greedily lapped it up, reaching his muzzle up to catch the tasty crimson stream. After it ran dry, he took to licking his hooves and wings, trying to get every last particle of the sanguine treat.
"This is all very touching, I'm sure. But I'd rather not stay," came her comment beside Red. He sighed, but followed the glimmering blue light.
That grim mug seemed to be etched into her muzzle. Kind of looked like it was locked in place, from all the time spent pouting like that. It must have really set by the fifth time Red asked if they were lost. That was... how much time ago? Red didn't trust his watch. According to that they'd been down here for 10 minutes, and no way in Tartarus that was correct.
"Lilith, what would you say if you stood in front of Rosa Maledicta?"
"Could you... stop wasting your breath?" she sighed, more exhausted than annoyed.
But he kind of liked wasting his breath. But he relented, and bit his lip to prevent a snark comment from leaking out. He'd trade in his forehooves to have her admit the two of them were lost, but a stallion can dream.
The copper pipes followed them to somewhere. Somewhere that didn't seem to come any closer. His hooves were kind of sore, but he felt that he could pass the time by coming up with something to say to Queen Maledicta.
'Your highness, I need to borrow a couple hundred vamponies, provisions and magic-thingymabobs to... uhh...' that didn't roll off the tongue quite so well. How could he pitch this? Leave the Nixie here as payment? Oh wait, he needed to get back to Equestria some way. Well, a couple hundred vamponies wouldn't fit in there anyway. Maybe he could stack them like in a can of sardines... goddess damn it, there had to be a solution, right?
"I got something," she said, and scared the tartarus out of Red. He looked at her expectantly.
"Please, please don't kill me for breaking inside your castle."
"Harr Harr..."
"I'm done."
Red swung himself onto a rather large red valve, sitting on top of a pipe. She glared at him, raising an eyebrow.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Last thing I need is a stallion throwing a temper tantrum. Get up."
"No."
She buried her muzzle in her hooves.
"You leech, goddess damn smartass. Okay, and now? Wait for the crossing to appear in front of us? Goddess, you're just..."
She lost her breath in anger. Red kicked his hind legs up and leaned back, letting a large belt of crimson hit the back of his throat. That made him feel nicely woozy, and the metal underneath him became comfier than a white Equestrian lawn chair. The sight must have made her even angrier, judging from her trembling brow. He feared she might have a stroke at any moment, until her hoof reached into her dress.
A small, crumpled ciggie appeared in the blue shine, together with a matchbox. And that matchbox was opened to yawning emptiness. She cursed, stared at the ground for a moment and finally gazed up. She almost seemed shy when she asked if he got a light.
He produced the small metal box teasingly slow, dangling it in front of her greedy eyes.
"What's the magic word?"
"Shut up-"
"Now, those are two words."
"I'll give you another two, fuck yo-"
"Alright, alright."
He flicked open the Zippo, and the flame found the end of the ciggarette. She sucked on the other end, and soon it was lit.
"Did you think of anything to say by now?" she asked.
Red was busy fiddling about with the spring of the magazine, looking up to see her watching the condensing water on the pipes above. Her dress was wet, and the cigarette seemed to buzz.
"Like, in general?"
"No. To Maledicta."
Oh, that. He put his hoof to his chin.
"Hmm... pretty please, with sugarcubes on top, help? Something like that. Her support for undying loyalty, or something equally corny, I guess."
"Undying loyalty?", the mouth behind the ciggie began to grin, "That's how eagerly you throw away your freedom?"
Red thought for a moment.
"If it works, it would be worth it."
"Oh, look at you. What a colt, what a youngblood. You want a pat on your back, hmm?"
"Maybe later...", Red mumbled.
By now it was... how long again? His hind legs began to feel tingly. At least the two of them could work out something approximating small talk, if only in dire straits. Red thought it might be time to get moving again, so he shoved the magazine back into his rifle. It chirped in approval, and landed on his back where it belonged. He met the slippery ground and walked up to the mare against the wall.
"I think it's time. What do you think, Lilith?"
She kept leaning on the wall, joint still tucked between fang and tooth. Her head was turned away, facing the dark before them where the blue tint of the crystal didn't reach.
"Lilith?"
That joint was only a little nub by now. It fell to the ground, but she kept still. Watching. Red leaned forward, following her gaze. The lines and swathes of vapor flowed into the void seemlessly, nothing else. He squinted.
There was something. Something red. Two reds. It was that colt, from earlier.
"Hey, little stallion, what..." Red stopped himself. Something was off about this. Lilith put a hoof to Red's shoulder, and he felt it shake. "look, look," she whispered. There came more red from the mist, taller, colder. They emerged from the vapor like phantoms. They were clad in angled black plates, and Red could see tiny grooves in their armor that blinked as crimson as their eyes like tongues of flame. Their armor was covered with them.
Red didn't know what to do, until Lilith started to run. He tripped, and slipped into the film of grimy water. The light was fading fast, and Red hurried to his hooves.
"LILITH!!", he yelled after her, but she was not slowing down. The bluish tint began to shrink in front of him, and his wings flapped and forehooves ached. The metallic clangs behind him turned into a constant rattle. The light faded from view. He took the turn to the left, trying to remember the way back. He flapped his wings and pressed forwards, towards where he remembered the crossing. The pipes hissed around him, and he flew faster, faster, until a soot-black snout squarely met black masonry.
"I... I'm sorry Red. You... I can't recognize you anymore..."
...
Red's eyes rolled open slowly. It was dark. And it burned. He burned, all over. Every breath burned. Like someone pressed cigarette ends onto his fur.
He screamed in pain, and that air invading his lungs made it a million times worse. Tears flowed from his eyes, and left burning trails along his fur. Getting up was impossible, he was confined to the bench with large iron chains. Red did not have the strength to test them.
The realization of things slowly crept in beneath the pain. He had failed. Not only himself, but all those across the sea. And Lilith. Where was Lilith? Did she make it out? If she did, maybe... no. She definitely would not come back for him. Poor Dent, Red thought. Something went wrong, and now Red would pay the price. He bucked against the bench, but that was only rewarded with more pain.
He did not think screaming for help would amount to anything. The prickly air around him took the edge off from the fact that his journey was at an end now. He idly looked around in the dark, but there was little to be seen. Other the fact that the bench was a little small for him.
If he really stretched himself... yes! He could slightly, very slightly look behind him by sticking his head over the edge. And there was something there... a door. Something like that. And a chair with something sitting on it. A... flower? Yes. It had a pot, a long, black spiral-like stem, and a white-red flower on top. Red had a hypothesis to test out.
He took a small drag of air and gently blew onto the thing. The chalice gently bobbed up and down, and Red screamed in pain, again. What was ash now was fire, burning into his fur. He saw patches of fur slither from his hoof, revealing pinkish, red flesh and blood. He winced and braced against the bench, counting the seconds to make it pass. One, two...
Three. The door sqeaked, then groaned as it was pushed open. There came a light, and a calculated, tender voice.
"Awake already. Good."
What stallion pressed himself into view was not congruent with that voice. It was a bulking, brutish mess, with two misshapen fangs peering from his smirking maw. He wore black armor, that was covered in those red marks Red saw earlier. Scars, uncountable and grotesque littered his face, and there was more skin that fur on it. He had an almost curious expression about him, and Red began to panic at the sight.
"Where... where is she?" he gave weakly. The new air in his lungs threatened to overwhelm him. He forced himself harder against the bench to avoid screaming.
"Her? Oh, yes. Her. Delightful. I am so glad you decided to come. She is important."
He slowly circled the bench, Red only seeing him as a black mass through his teary eyes.
"She is also on the agenda for tonight."
"Let... let her go! It was my idea, to come here. Not hers... I'll tell you anything you want," Red coughed. The poison in the air made him woozy.
The vampire stallion in front of him rubbed his scarred cheek, and looked at Red from the foot of the bench. His smile was brighter, wider.
"I do not care. This is not an interrogation," he said, voice almost giddy. His hoof dipped beneath the bench, and Red shrunk as he drew closer. He had something triangle shaped in his hoof, one side red, the other grey. Red thought it was a piece of plate... but it was a saw.
"I do not interrogate. I punish the sinners. You have sinned. The catacombs are for the Queen alone. I punish the sinners."
His grin grew into a teeth-bared smile, and Red began to fidget. He tried to slide backwards, but the chain did not budge and kept him in place.
"Are you not curious why your left hoof is only bound by the shoulder?"
Before he could answer, the saw dug into Red's yielding flesh. He screamed until the weight of the stallion's forehoof pressed the air out of him. He pressed Red onto the bench with each slimy grind of the saw, until his airways only could muster a gurgle. Red felt every back and forth of the blades, nerves screaming as they were severed. He could make no sound to drown out the sawing, so he conceded to crying silently.
"There. Good. Here it is, in all its filth and refuse! Sin flows through you, do you see it?!"
He splashed a burst onto Red's face, and he spat out his own blood. The stallion rammed the saw down, and Red's teeth sank into his tongue. Again and again it went into his hoof, like an axe. The stallion sqeezed his weight onto his shoulder, and Red felt the bone crack. The scream was lost in a gurgle.
He didn't even notice when his hoof finally dropped to the floor. Only when the ecstatic stallion waved it in front of his face, like a young filly showing his father his first crudely drawn crayon masterpiece, did he realize it. Red turned to his side, to spit out the piece of his tongue from his mouth. The air burned, his eyes hurt, his hoof, now stump, was throbbing with waves of pain that made his head spin, then queasy, then weary, then dark.
Author's Note
finally   
lots of things happened, as per usual. I only barely missed halloween!!
content wise, I tried to be a little more descriptive of things, I hope it bore fruit. variable chapter length, but eh
https://camo.fimfiction.net/UnJXLD7h3Lnv_Krm_RialazWS2b4DjT1GFu7Sj-PvNw?url=https%3A%2F%2Fi.postimg.cc%2FcJpbbYGR%2F97fff615-28c2-4846-a382-d5fcd89f1394.jpg  
toodles

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    9:53 - THREEHUNDREDTHIRTEEN DEGREES - WATCH THE SKY    
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9:53 - THREEHUNDREDTHIRTEEN DEGREES - WATCH THE SKY
“9:53. THREEHUNDREDTHIRTEEN DEGREES. WATCH THE SKY.”
Red awoke from uneasy dreams upside down in his hammock. He held his head, as if checking if it was still attached. It was in equal parts reassuring and unnerving to hear the voice again – at least that meant he was at the right place after all.
Weeks now he had spent slow speed ahead, chartering the icy coast up and down. Looking at the rocks and ice and ice and rocks as if that wasn’t the most boring thing anypony could think of. And now he is to look into the sky at exactly 9:53. He quit his ruminating, and swung himself onto the cold steel plates of his submarine. Not like he had anything else to do.
It was cold outside, like yesterday and all those days before that. Not that he was cold, no, one would have to produce their own body heat for that. It was simply a neutral sensation registered on his skin beneath the freezing on black fur of his. The boat bobbed slightly in the seaway, and the wind was whistling through the icicles.
‘The boat’, he thought. It had a name, he knew as much. It was written on the hull, there in front. The word ‘NIXE’ adorned the vessel there, in turquoise Changeling-Herzländer script. The 'Nixe', 'nixie', or sometimes just 'mermaid' - the changeling engineer had told him so proudly – was a creature he had lifted from a book on Griffonian fairytales. Apparently, they could turn invisible and even change shape at whim, which was of course the reason he had chosen the name. The only logical one for such a changeling Wunderwaffe. A changeling name for a changeling boat. It was at some point during that following three-hour long sermon on Griffonian mythological creatures that Red realized this changeling must had been specifically chosen by the others to pester him. Red, the only representative of the naval attaché of the Griffonian Empire. To sic the Griffonian history enthusiast onto the helpless Griffonian officer, well, they must have had a good laugh over it. Red was also laughing, since they actually believed him when he, a bat pony, from a landlocked nation of griffons, claimed to represent said country's delegation. In any case, it had not taken long for the ‘Nixie’ to change from the Changeling boat to his (vampony) boat. Maybe he should paint over that name sometime and give it a new one.
He raised his golden pocket watch. 9:52. After a look at the UZO, the torpedo targeting thing the engineer (poorly) explained to him, he knew where to point his snout. There, up in the sky, the clouds creeped around each other. The sight gave Red slight collywobbles. It was just that the heavens here seemed to have an eerie quality to them, they just weren’t quite… right. They were never clear, never unmoving, always flowing, twisting, coiling around themselves. The clouds were grey or black, giving images that were hard to decipher. Red tried anyway, despite the difficulty.
A palace. The palace in Canterlot? Whatever it was, it was burning. The image disappeared in black twirls too soon. They brought another. A mass of ponies. A mass of bat ponies, if the tattered wings were any indication. Red squinted. Some of these wings were like his, but not all. A row, maybe? The scene took on a more feral quality. If they had been rowing before, now they were beating each other. Another writhing of the clouds and it looked like the beating turned to lynching. The blood, if it even was blood, flowed in light grey strings until it spilled out, all across the heavens. Red shut his eyes, tying to keep his vision from spinning.
But they had opened by themselves anew. The last image, beneath the greater one… that was no boulder-shaped cloud, but a-
He spun his head around, and could only watch the shale impact the sea behind his boat with incredible force. The water’s reaction was instant, and Red, beneath his hooves, felt his submarine beginning to ride the mounting, terrible wave. He desperately held onto the railing, until the impact with solid ground threw him away like a ragdoll.
He was airborne, and diving sharply. After not flying for so long it always felt like the first time all over again, and the adrenaline was high and cold in his veins. His wings knew what to do. A soundless flutter, and he was horizontal again. Another, and his hooves settled gently on a raised rock that was beyond the gushing water and ice to reach. Red looked upon the sight, and for a fleeting moment he felt like he was the pony of that famous painting, standing above a sea of fog (only more damp, presumably).
The metal of his underwater cockleshell creaked as it dove deeper into the grey-white amorphous mass of snow, the bridge lopsided and the lettering on the hull now hidden. Red sighed.
“Damn it.”
The compass needle jittered, as if it were freezing out here in the icy void. It had fulfilled its duty… for the first few kilometers. Now it was spinning around at considerable speed. Either this meant Red reached the north pole, or something else he couldn’t wrap his head around. Something to do with magic, surely. He sat down and looked at his travel pack. Speaking of magic…
The canteen was easily freed from the deep confines of the mess in his pack. He was thirsty, and it was as if the thing relished that. Almost like it wanted to come to his lips by itself. Was it still good? He took a sniff. Iron. Bloody air, rich and sweet and lovely. It had been too long… so the neck went to his mouth. He only wanted to drink, TO DRINK. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile on their own as Red drank. The more flowed down his throat the more he wanted, the more he drank, the more it became harder to think, to move. He pulled his mouth away, almost panting. It was only four thirsting, desperate gulps but for Red it might as well have been a gallon. The thing went back to where it belonged (as far away from his mouth as physically possible). The canteen looked so sad in there, so lonely. The unfeeling metal looked up at the stallion, whispering “drinkmedrinkmedrinkme” - Red pulled the cord tight and felt relieved.
He had to press on. That was easier, now with that comfortable tingle in his limbs. Before, the terrain had been relatively flat and boring. Now it was hilly, rocky, and boring. Jet-black slate towered above him in steep wedges, silently spectating his trek. There was something important on the horizon, despite him not seeing what. He just knew it. The vampony swilled the last taste of red in his mouth and swallowed, placing one hoof in front of the other.
Red used to think the life of a resistance fighter exciting. It was tautological, no? ‘Fighter’ was almost self-explanatory. A fighter, a warrior, a Griffonian knight. Every young colt dreamt up this career (if you could call it that) for themselves at some point in their lives. Live by the sword, die by the sword. Conquest and glory and all that… it couldn’t get more testosterone and endorphin laden than this, right? Add to that the ‘resistance’ descriptor and you have a match made in heaven. Not only could you make war and pillage at your leisure – you also were always right when doing it! Red learned as much from the half-read book on political theory he stole. No wonder they had elected him as the interim leader, then. Or perhaps they just all agreed that they liked his way of thinking.
But all that rationalization didn’t matter because it was all wrong, of course. Red knew that in actuality being a resistance fighter was boring. ‘Walk there, sneak here. Climb this, wait so and so long. Pull the trigger four times, rinse and repeat.’ It got numbing. Sure, one could argue it was because of the inexplicably convenient, seemingly prescient voice in the young vamponies head. Something that whispered a ruse, a method for him to get his way, every time, without fail. A phrase to say to somepony, a stick of dynamite placed here or there, a speech to hold that came to him wholly in a dream. The moonpriest said it was the goddess’s gift, but who knows really. The real work always fell on to him any case, he sighed.
The field kit was rattling, slightly audible under the howling winds. The air whistled through the pillars and when Red focused on it, it was almost rhythmic. Melodic. He couldn’t place the sounds, but then it came to him all at once – he heard it before, back in the south of Equus. There was a place, hidden in the jungles somewhere where no Equestrians ever dared, where one could sit in the shade of a mangrove and hear the ground whistle, sing. A fellow bat told him once it was the air that sucked through the caves there, like a giant underground flute. A giant organ made from the earth, the pipes of the goddess, they called it. She played upon it only the most otherworldy tunes. A part of him wished he was still there, chewing on mangos and listening to them. Those were the days…
It took another hour for Red to find anything noteworthy. Well, noteworthy was subjective. To Red it was noteworthy. It was a column of smoke, no thicker than half a hoof on the horizon. It definitely was no cloud, that would have been twisted into something grotesque by now surely. It had to be the real deal. Was something burning? Red took up his binoculars. Yes, yes that was definitely smoke. Slightly grey, slightly black. Did something explode? He looked at the foot of the column and-
“What in Tartarus…”
Red was blinded. He grasped his eyes in pain, and fished for the dropped binoculars. He found them broken, the lenses busted like windows of thestral orphanages.
“Fucking shit,” he dropped the useless utensil and picked up his rifle. Her metal seemed almost pleased at this, but Red didn’t care, he already peered through the sight and finally saw what the lightning spell was aimed at. Not at him, as he initially postulated, but at that thing emerging from the bed of snow.
“What in the goddess’s name…,” slipped out involuntarily.
The unicorn, seemingly out of ideas, began to cast a spell Red could only call ‘running away real fast’, the creature in hot pursuit. Only now it began to register what Red was seeing there through his scope. Was that … a giant crab? No, too many legs. And the body was all wrong, too long, spindly, with … pincers… a… Crablobsterpede? Yes, that seemed like it was descriptive enough. Body of a crab, legs and behind of a centipede, armed with the shears of a lobster. Crablobsterpede.
The Crablobsterpede was about as tall as a building, and probably very irate from the flashing lights. The unicorn threw itself away from the piercing thrust of a claw, dashing wildly in a different direction to not get turned into meat on a stick. This happened to be Red’s direction. The earth shook under the blow, the slate and ice jittering all around. Red’s catatonia ended upon hearing the bone-chilling screech of the chitinous horror.
Safety off. Exhale. The bang reverberated from the cliffs, painfully loud. It bore into the beast’s shoulder with a splash of viscera. It screeched anew, but did not fall. He squeezed the trigger again - and again, nothing but screeching. The unicorn was now halfway there, his or her pursuer still behind them. After the third bullet, Red was increasingly frustrated with the situation. Some things didn’t know when to die, did they? The blue haired unicorn, a stallion, now galloped past Red and gave him a glance that was clearly questioning Red’s sanity, seeing that he didn’t budge in the slightest. Red had no intention to, either.
He instead began to count the steps the beast took, and that wasn’t an easy thing considering the number of spindly legs plowing through the snow. It was like an approaching train, with a cone of pulverized snow instead of a plume of smoke. And like a train, it roared again, so loud this time that Red saw the icicles above jitter. The grey claw shot up into the air, aiming like a Griffonian knight leading his sword before the blow. 45…46…47… and…
His wings were faster than his thoughts. Red shot up into the air, and he saw the stalk eyes slowly perk up to follow him, but he already was where he wanted to be. Up above the monster’s back, he swiveled his weight around to point the heavy rifle downward like a counterweight. Four, five, and the recoil knocked him further into the air. The rifle chimed and the clip expelled itself. Finally, the creature below shrieked and finally collapsed. He circled around, listening to the thunderous boom of the impact until landing on the tail. Red rewarded the rifle with a fresh clip, and the bolt clicked approvingly in response.
It didn’t take long for Red to hear mortal huffing and puffing.
“Oh, oh stars, did – did you break the shell?”
“Did… did I what now?”
“The shell, did you break it? Nevermind, nevermind, I’ll check.”
Red could only watch the unicorn scale the mountain of a crustacean. Up there, panting on the main body of the carcass he threw back the hood of his brown robe. He ruffled his blue hair, maybe trying to get all the dirt and snow out of it, before giving up on trying. His eyes traced lines along the dead beast.
“I think you broke the shell,” he hummed softly.
“Tends to happen with armor piercing rounds. What sort of thing did I kill, exactly?”
“We,” he added neutrally.
“What?”
“We killed something that’s worthless now, without the shell. Stars above, this was supposed to be this month’s rent…” he gives, resigned, “Still, doesn’t hurt to have a look.”
Red bit his tongue to try and quell that endless stream of questions forming. The unicorn was gathering his tools from a bag around his flank, pirouetting them idly through the air in thought.
“I already forgot what that book said about this part… I suppose this should do.”
“What exactly-“
Red ducked to dodge the spray of viscera. It reeked of death. When a clamp peeled the dead flesh of the opening back, Red had to suppress the bile from rising. The scalpel moved swiftly, seemingly used to this.
“Hmm. Seems fresh enough... maybe the shell lies deeper with this one?”
“Okay? So?” called Red, still trying to wipe his hoof.
“So, step back if you please.”
He did, but the spray still hit his hooves again, goddess damn it. The outer, grey shell floated away gently, lifted by a bluish hue. With a disgusting squelch, the unicorn’s magic removed more tissue to reveal a copper-colored heart-like organ (between the other slimy ones).
“Is that-“
“Yes. The shell. Intact, despite all odds. Goodie, goodie. Now to gently…”
A splitting axe floated from the pack, lifted high into the air and gently tapped against the shell. It burst, catapulting out a million of wriggling yellow centipedes.
“Fucking tartarus,” Red avoided a particularly vicious insect that was trying to suck his brains out surely. The mass was writhing on the corpse. Were those… baby crablobsterpedes? The unicorn seemed happy enough, catching large and unruly mounds of insect in a brown sack. Eww.
“This is how you pay your rent? Damn, that’s rough.”
“Eh. By the stars it could be worse. I could be one of the poor saps that have to eat one of these, yuck. Magehold’s job market ain’t what it used to be.”
“So… there is people living here?” Red tried not to let his newly summoned hope shine through.
“Well, not here, no. Quite a few ways off. I thought you vamponies liked to flex your superior navigation skills?”
“You… vamponies?”
“Uhh… yeah? You’re a vampire, right? From the coven?”
The two looked at each other with a weird expression for a moment, the swarm of nymphs still bustling about on the carcass. Suddenly the unicorn’s expression turned into an awkward frown, then into laughing.
“Oh, oh stars, you’re – you’re really – oh heavens, the look on your face,” he has to pause to catch his breath between the wheezing, “you’re not from here, are you?”
“Yes,” Red said with a long face. The unicorn stallion finally pulled himself together, tears standing in his eyes and huffing like a train again. He bagged the last of the insect brood, and placed them into his pack (which seemed to be larger on the inside). Sliding down to meet Red standing at the many legs of their felled kill, he seemed almost sorry for laughing.
“Look. Sorry about that,” He scratched his blue mane, “I could take you to Magehold if you want. I guess I owe you that.”
Red thought the same thing.
“No, no, you’re joking.”
The unicorn was laughing again, and by now Red feared his eyes might fall out from all the rolling.
“For the last time, here. Look at it,” he threw over a hoof-sized round of ammo. An ethereal blue claw grabbed it midair to show to the unicorn. He inspected the golden, pointy object while walking along.
“No, no, I don’t think mortal hoofs could produce this. Out of the question. There has to be a few enchantments involved at the very least.”
“If you only knew what else those hooves can make,” he put the round back into its magazine and reloaded it into his rifle. His rifle. That terrible, wonderful thing. Her frame was bigger than him, and so heavy that no mere mortal creature could use her without being an immobile piece of target practice on the ground. Good thing that he wasn’t mortal, that made sure her potential wasn’t wasted. Such a beautiful weapon deserved to see every aspect of combat, no? Not just lying in the dirt to shoot at armored vehicles at a range of up to two kilometers. Anyway, Red had to agree with the unicorn somewhat. It was hard to believe mortal hooves produced such beauty, but it was true. And what was worse that it wasn’t just mortal hooves - it was mortal, communist hooves.
Red pointed at the sky, where the smoke still hadn’t dissipated.
“Any idea what that could be?”
“Huh? Oh, uhh…,” the unicorn seemed to get a little flustered, “…that did not go according to plan.”
“What?”
“See, I’ll show you.”
He retrieved a small pebble from the mass of snow. It flew high into the air until his horn began to buzz. Red jumped at the explosion. The rock had disintegrated in a bluish fireball. The unicorn looked satisfied at that.
“Not bad, huh?”
“Wow, you can make things explode. I can do that too.”
“Mhh, not things. Rocks. Just rocks.”
“…Rocks?”
“Well, yes, yes I know what you mean. 'Rock' is not exactly a narrow definition. To put it precisely, I can bring certain silicates to combustion by a specific combination of spells.”
“Uh-huh. And what happened there,” he pointed to the clouds again.
“Oh, yeah. Well, it appeared there were some…crystal deposits left inside the sediment. It caused a bit of a … chain reaction.”
“Well, that chain reaction almost sunk my boat.”
“Really, what makes you think that?”
“A giant rock flew into the sea. The wave beached my boat.”
“Can’t you… push it back in?”
“No.”
The unicorn wiped the frost from his nose, and the instruments in his pack tinkled every other step. Reaching a new plateau during their ascent, Red saw a wide-open valley where peaks of rock sprouted from the white earth in an uneasy, spiky arrangement. In the distance the landscape grew into a mountain range that was unmatched in Red’s memory. He felt insignificant at the sight. The unicorn looked back.
“Something wrong?”
“I didn’t think to ask… what’s your name?”
“Well, I didn’t ask you either,” the unicorn shrugged, “Ardent Blaze. ‘Dent’ is just fine though.”
Red took up the offer, and shook hooves. He could tell from Dent’s face that his cold hoof hurt his tender, mortal one, but did not bother commenting on it. No need to salt the wound, the fact he was mortal was bad enough.
“Red. Red Fang. Just ‘Red’ is enough.”
“Well then, Red. If you don’t mind, I’m freezing my flanks off. Let’s get to Magehold before the rest of me does too, yeah?”
“Sure thing.”
Dent was gasping and wheezing again in the thin air, seemingly always a moment before collapsing, swaying as if he was drunk. Since Red was chipper, he thought he could at least carry the poor unicorn’s stuff, but no, Dent was too paranoid or prideful for that.
“We-*cough* we’re almost, oh stars, we’re – almost there. Can - *pant* can you see them yet, Red?”
“Uhh, them?”
“The fangs, can you see them?”
He looked up, peering above the forest of frozen spikes. Behind a peculiar patch of stone needles, he thought he saw something. His wings carried him onto a boulder to see more. The sight took away his breath.
“Wow.”
Two black horns – Red took them to be towers at first – were in fact only the peaks of an even larger… what was it even? Too big and tall for a fortress or castle, too fortified for a palace, too opulent for a citadel. What Red could tell that it was made from chiseled volcanic rock, black as the night, stacked high unto the sky. The top parted into two pieces. That must be what Dent called the Fangs. The twins leaned against each other, and pierced the heavens together. Red couldn’t decide whether the building was from the far future, or the ancient past.
To the giant’s feet huddled a great many buildings. Some small like shacks, some like a noblemare’s mansion, glistening golden in the winter sun. Marble pillars stood next to wooden boards here, though they all seemed to suffer from the ravages of time in equal measure. Red’s eyes got lost in the sprawl. Golden rays shone through the gap between the Fangs, and to Red the illuminated rooftops looked like grains of sand.
“Not bad, hm?”
“Huh? Oh, uhh, sure. Pretty,” he whistled.
“Yeah, well, prettier if we kept moving. I’ll go hypothermic if we don’t hurry.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” Red remarked snarkily, but followed him anyway. He caught the magically tossed snowball in the air.
“You vampires are horrible, you know that?”
“Really?”
Dent huffed in annoyance, or resignation.
Dent owned a simple, Equestrian style house on the outskirts of Magehold, one that could be found in every old, decrepit town nopony went to anymore. Red couldn’t complain though, probably due to the fact that he never owned property himself (or knew anypony that did for that matter).
“Make yourself at home,” tossed Dent over his shoulder. He hung the sack presumably filled to the brim with those disgusting centipedes on a hook by the fireplace. Red took it all in. There were so many books here. Every surface had at least one, and the bookcases seemed close to collapse from all the weight of knowledge. Red couldn’t tell if the scrolls on the table were pieces of art, or some arcane language. Then again who was he to judge, his chicken scratch wasn’t much better. Red's gaze wandered upwards to the twinkling, shiny stuff hanging above. Metallic tokens, or something that looked like voodoo fetishes. They were all glimmering, quietly humming and twisting around themselves, casting shadows and colors onto the messy tabletop.
“If, if you don’t mind – by the stars”, he yawned, “Oh, excuse me. I’m going to bed. Try not to break anything, please.”
Red nodded and saw Dent vanish in a smallish side room. The house was quiet, and Red felt unease for the first time in a while. During their trek here, the city was so unnaturally silent it did not feel right to call it a city at all. The more city something was the less quiet it became, usually. This felt more like a ghost town. Red sat down on the floorboards and dropped his gear to his side. Looking up at the wooden beams above hanging with trinkets, they almost seemed like a foal’s mobile. His muzzle curled into a big yawn, likely inspired by the unicorn’s, and that caused him to bear his fangs. Something that felt good after such a long time of them being just a nuisance in his mouth. Maybe he should take a nap. Another yawn came over him. Just a short one, he thought.
Author's Note
wow you actually read all this? well, in any case, feel free to dress me down in the comments about anything I did wrong (stylistically, grammatically, morally, etc)
Anything longer than two sentences strung together is still difficult for me lol.