Dreamwalker's Tale: Project Greenwood

Smelly stone, made from bone,

Looks so ugly, fat and smugly,

Dad’s an oaf, bright as a loaf,

Mom’s a dragon, wide as a wagon,

…

Foals were so creative.

The ‘poem’ continued, of course. Gray Scale sat right behind him and murmured their newest version, and although Rock Solid did not turn around to look him in the eyes, he could still hear his wide, wide grin. Rock looked down at his hooves. They were dirty, of course. But this time around, nopony had called him a mud pony yet, or a dirt pusher. Maybe because of the ratio. There were a lot more earth ponies in this school than the last one.

The break would be over soon. Math class would start with Miss Golden Ratio. But Rock was restless. Gray had chanted that stupid poem religiously for the past few weeks every couple of breaks they got, always with a new line in between, or an insult exchanged, or a new verse added. They were still testing things out. They still tried to get under his skin.

And that was just it. They tried.

Rock did not care how he looked. He did not care if they called his father the dumbest creature beneath Celestia's sun. He was not his father. If his old man took offense to this bullshit, then he would come here himself and teach them a lesson.

He did not care how wide his mom was either. Rock deemed it more likely that she would be hurt by this, but again: He was not his mom. Why would he care?

It was the same. Just like last time. Just like the many times before.

They moved at least once a year. Due to job reasons, his parents told him. Yet it always sounded so strange to him, so forced. As if they made that up right then and there, on the spot.

As far as Rock Solid was concerned, he had adapted to these frequent changes of location. He had a thick hide, both figuratively and literally. He made no friends, because, well, what for? So he could bid them goodbye once they moved yet again? No. It barely made sense learning the names of his schoolfellows. Names of teachers were difficult enough as is, seeing as there were a dozen of them each time and they expected him to address them ‘properly’. Because that was about manners. About respect.

Respect.

He had told his parents, of course. About the constant teasing. About the poems.

None of these colts and fillies dared to do anything, of course. Nothing serious anyway. If he left his saddlebag unattended, his stuff would be hidden all around the place. His food would be given to school pets, if they had any. Or outright thrown into the trash. It was still wrapped in foil though and they never put enough effort in to unwrap it. So it was perfectly fine and edible.

They teased him relentlessly for eating trash, of course.

And what superior wisdom had his dear old mom and dad bestowed upon this young and impressionable colt?

Mom had basically told him to endure. Shut up. Keep quiet. Bear the brunt of it. Dig deep and stay there, survive the onslaught, day after day. They would grow tired eventually. They would get bored. They would stop. Someday.

And he could see that. Sometimes, when they stayed in one place long enough, he saw that starting. How some of the self-proclaimed bullies just stopped bothering him, because they continuously failed to coax any interesting reaction out of him. So they looked elsewhere for their gratification. For easier prey, more amusing targets.

These dolts had never seen a true bully in their lives. A true bully was thirty years plus old, twice their size, with a gruff voice and always ready to let actions follow words. Or just skip the words entirely, seeing how useless those were most of the time.

But they moved a lot.

Rock had no idea why, but they did. And every time, it started all over again. He was the new colt, he was larger than anypony else in his class, his coat was strangely thin and already somewhere between beige and gray. There were crusty spots in his coat where his skin had hardened considerably. These spots were bald, not a single hair of his coat grew on them, and the hardened skin had changed coloration to an almost brick-like red. They called it eczema even though they could barely pronounce that. His parents had seen a doctor with him. They could not quite explain these spots, but called them unassuming.

Probably a medical term or something. They meant that it was harmless. It did not endanger his health. But it did seem like a joke in bad taste to call them unassuming.

And his dear old dad, he had given completely different advice. You need to assert yourself, he said. They will never stop unless you gain their respect, he said. Rock both understood that, and did not. So he dared to open his mouth. Cut in and ask: But how do I gain their respect?

A good lashing later for rudely interrupting his old man, he even got an answer. You make them respect you.

He wanted to ask how, sure. But his rump was still sore, so he just nodded instead and kept quiet. Or as his mom said: He dug deep and endured.

An empty yogurt pot hit the back of Rocks head.

Several of his classmates giggled. “You know, we’re actually wrong I think,” Gray murmured with a smug tone. “Your mom can’t be a dragon. Dragons are, like, so cool. And you’re just you.”

They tried to hurt him. Again and again and again. They failed, but that did not matter. They tried and they never seemed to grow tired of it. And it was so infuriatingly annoying.

Make them respect you.

Alright.

Rock slowly pushed against his desk. Since it was bolted to the floor, his chair relented and he pushed himself away. Enough to stand up and turn around. His gaze trailed across the room. The large open windows showed a cloud-covered, gray sky. The blackboard was as empty as the teacher’s desk. The little bookshelves in the back, the aquarium with the goldfish in it. Miss Goldy Locks, they called her. So creative.

Then his gaze settled on Gray Scale. He was a lanky colt. His first few growth spurts made him grow high, but not particularly wide. Still — Rock Solid beat him in width and height. Maybe he was just pissed because he used to be the largest colt in class. Rock did not know, and neither did he care.

All eyes were on him. Waiting. Some holding their breath, ready to snicker and giggle as they expected him to run away or break down into tears or some bullshit like that.

But he was Rock Solid. And he would make them respect him. “Step out,” he said and pointed towards the narrow path between the rows of tables, right in front of himself.

With a smug scoff, Gray Scale did just that. “And what now, you lumbering—“

Rock gave him a shove. He controlled himself well enough, he only employed a fraction of his strength. But it was still sufficient to get Gray off-balance. He stepped up and gave him another shove and Gray tumbled to the floor, landing on his rump first and then on his back.

Gray Scale was too surprised to even feel any pain from his involuntary seating.

Rock stepped up, over this flabbergasted idiot. He leered down on him, but kept his attention mostly with the others in the room. One of the fillies giggled quietly. When she noticed him staring at her, she lit her horn and proudly presented a scribbling she had done within these few seconds. Two rough shapes, maybe supposed to be ponies, probably supposed to be him and Gray, touching snouts or something?

“You gonna kiss him now?” she asked and giggled again.

Following her comment, others chimed in with giggles. Rock looked down at Gray Scale. The colt seemed disgusted. He seemed to think that he was actually considering this suggestion. But there was an entirely different reason why Rock hesitated.

This felt important.

He knew he was just a young colt. No matter what he thought he knew, the truth was: He knew nothing. Yet still, this moment felt like it would define him for years to come. He felt a pressure in his chest. He felt the weight of fate itself settle on his shoulders. He felt observed. As if someone, or something, was tracking his progress, his decision.

He pondered this feeling. The importance of this moment.

Gray Scale was nothing. A meaningless waste of space and time and effort. It was not even worth teaching him a lesson. Gray was beneath him. But! He could be used. For demonstration purposes.

He looked up to that nuisance of a filly again. Her stare had only become more expectant. “Watch closely,” Rock told her. “You don’t want to miss any of that.” Although he talked to her, he addressed all his currently present classmates. And they understood that.

They wanted a show. So he gave them one. He raised his hoof and struck the first blow. Gray Scale wheezed as Rock’s front hoof connected to his stomach. He tried to speak, but the next blow already followed and connected to his lower jaw. Rock heard them gasp in shock. The entire room went deathly quiet. He struck again. And again. And with each blow, he felt his restraint slip. Or maybe rather unravel. He put more and more and more of his power, his true strength into each blow. He pommeled that little prick until his dark gray coat started to change color like a damn inkblot test.

And it felt good.

All this frustration, finally vented. There was a lot more of it than Gray Scale could take, of course. A lot more than even Rock Solid could bear to release right now. His body would grow tired before he could finish emptying that barrel.

But sweet Celestia, did this feel great.

Somewhere in between his strikes, he took a break. He felt alive. He felt energized. His lungs greedily accepted fresh air, his hooves burned with a desire to continue, but for a brief moment, he raised his gaze and looked around. Some of his classmates had fled. Probably to fetch Miss Golden Ratio, the little snitches.

But the others just watched in stunned silence. And fear.

Now they respected him. He could see it in their eyes. They would not mumble their stupid little poems again. They would not hide his food again. They would not call him names again. Because now they saw and knew and understood that if they did, he would come for them next, he would pummel his food out of them and he would shut them up.

He was larger than them. Stronger than them. More powerful than them. And they owed him respect.

This was an important moment in his life.

The aftermath did nothing to course-correct the young colt.

Gray Scale, leader of the art club, had been hospitalized. His injuries were severe, but nothing long-lasting. Rock Solid got a stern talking-to by the dean. They demanded he talk to the school counselor. Yet all he had to do in that one hour was to sit there and idle sixty minutes away. Easy, really.

And less than two months later, they moved again anyway.

This time, he did not take weeks of patience before he drew the line. The first idiot that crossed his path and thought he had an easy game ahead of himself was pounded into dust.

Rock Solid was a force to be reckoned with.

And he never felt better.

“I tell you, it was madness,” gloated Wide Swerve. “It’s like he came out of freaking nowhere! We were in those lockers for ten minutes, maybe fifteen, and we told these jokes the entire time. I have no idea why he waited so long. Maybe he didn’t, maybe he just passed by randomly. But dude, like… what the fuck, right?”

Wide’s four companions chuckled in amusement. It was a boozy round this evening.

The Last Round was the closest bar to the training fields in Canterlot, where new guard recruits were pummeled into shape. It was quite lively from early afternoon into the late night hours, and at any given moment, half the customers were recruits or members of the guard mingling with recruits. Or family members of recruits. As such, while some customers could get quite rowdy at times, it was generally accepted to be a safe place to hang out in. The classic tavern brawl was a rare occurrence indeed, basically no pickpocketing ever happened and the worst the staff had to deal with were miffed gamblers and loudmouths.

It was a nice place. A little rough around the edges, but still a very nice place.

Wide was one of the new batch. First year cadets. Each week on the field was grueling and they had enough days where all they wanted to do was crawl back home, zombie-shuffle into their beds and hope they would die in their sleep so they would not have to get up in the morning to drag their hooves back to the field again. But this was a weekend, so things were a little different. It gave them two whole days to live and recuperate and actually socialize with ponies other than their classmates.

Wide was on good terms with his family. They lived over in Baltimare, thus it was a little trickier to see them as much as he would have liked. So his weekends were mostly spent with other cadets who were in a similar position. And what better thing to do when they met up than to shamelessly gossip and exchange urban legends and horror stories over a couple of pints.

There was a kernel of truth in every story, they said. He had his doubts about that and was pretty sure that some of the stories his fellows told him were complete and utter bullshit, made up on the spot to impress or amuse. And that was fine, really. Not like it mattered much.

His favorite this evening had been the one about a member of the Pie family. They were known rock farmers, even though nopony could really explain what the heck ‘rock farming’ even was, or how that looked like. Was that not just a quarry?

Anyway. One of his companions had allegedly met one of the Pie sisters in Manehattan right before he boarded the train to Canterlot to start his training. She was working on her rocktorate, whatever that was, and they got into an utterly weird, alien, beautiful, bewildering conversation.

It was no horror story, that was for sure. But it was his favorite one because it was just so… quirky. This mare sounded like she was a riot.

And when his turn was up, he tried to one-up the last story.

“So you’re telling me you met Rock Solid and you didn’t even get a scratch?” one of his companions asked, his voice laced with clear doubt.

Wide scoffed. “It’s not like the dude is a natural disaster or anything, he’s not some dumb beast that constantly lashes out.”

“Not what I~ heard,” sang another one.

Wide sighed. “Anyway. Story time. So he heard us joking about him and he barreled into the room like a force of nature.”

“See,” came an unwelcome cut-in.

Wide shot him a warning glare and continued. “This guy is massive. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen him. He could be the size of Princess Celestia. Certainly Princess Luna’s size, minimum. And yet despite this, he was so incredibly quick. Seriously, those earth ponies scare the living shit out of me sometimes.”

The only earth pony at the table bowed gracefully. “Thanks. You’re welcome.”

The entire table laughed before Wide continued. “So he comes in, runs straight up to this one guy and just smashes his hoof in his snout. Poor sod flies into the wall, but he’s not done, oh no. He lunges after him, grabs his mane in his teeth and whirls him around to smash him into the wall again. The poor sod slumps down to the ground, bruised and dazed. The others finally come out of their shock and yell at him. Stuff like: What the fuck, Rock? What are you doing?!”

“Yeah. I bet that went over smoothly,” one of the others quipped.

Wide shrugged with a grimace. “No. No, of course it didn’t. He kicked the wall with his hindlegs to push himself off, towards the next loudmouth. Actually one of the reasons why the western locker is still inaccessible. They still have to fix that wall, there’s, like, two dents in it now. And that’s solid stone, I might add.” Wide shook his head in disbelief. If he had not been present, he would not believe this story himself. So he could hardly fault his drinking buddies for their doubtful glances. “Anyway, he reaches the second guy and just outright smashes his forehead against his. They both stagger, but Rock recuperates so much faster. He uppercuts the guy and he’s just flat out gone. Lies on the floor, wincing, groaning. Rock meanwhile kicks back, literally, and just breaks the jaw of another one. Sweet Celestia, I heard that bone crunch and let me tell you, that is such a nasty noise. Still gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“You’re just a pansy,” one of his friends teased with a snicker.

“Call me whatever you want,” Wide replied, “A couple of recruits were smart enough to run for the hills. They fetched one of the sergeants to sort things out, but until that mare arrived, Rock had demolished six more recruits. And don’t get this wrong — after those initial two attacks, they did start to fight back. They didn’t just stand there like training dummies, they tried to take him down. It’s just… I’ve never seen scary shit like that. He was pummeled by kicks and blows and he just tanked them like they were feathery little tickles. I know some of those recruits. Best of the family, trained for this career from a young age, some of them are almost twice my size and strength and they couldn’t even make him wince. Not once. And every blow he landed was just devastating. I’m not on top of the count anymore, but last time I heard, they had to deal with, like, three broken legs, one bruised spine and a dozen broken ribs. He was just a machine. And when Clarion Call finally showed up with the two recruits who alarmed her, do you think she managed to take him out? Heck no. She sent those two back into the hallways to get a bunch of unicorns while she would ‘hold him off’. When they fought, it was just… I mean, there are ponies who would pay good bits to see that. They were dodging and rolling with the punches like crazy. Clarion is a quick and agile fighter, like most pegassi. But she just couldn’t afford to be hit once. And, well, she was on a timer so to speak. He would land a hit eventually. And when he did, he outright broke her wing, I’m pretty sure. Kicked her in the gut and smashed her into the wall of the hallway outside.”

“No, yeah, but seriously, how did you get out of that?” one of his comrades asked.

For a brief moment only, Wide stared at the tabletop in shame. “I didn’t fight him. I had heard enough stories about him by that point. I saw what raw strength he packed. What little he took in terms of counterattacks. It’s like he doesn’t feel pain at all. And my magic is mostly focused on protective shields.”

“You should’ve tried to shield your allies then,” one noted with a disgruntled tone.

Wide sighed and his shoulders sagged. “Maybe. But he was supposed to be my ally as well, wasn’t he? Rock Solid was a day guard. Not just a recruit, but a full-fledged guard. Attacking a superior like that? And worse, I would have intervened. The only reason he did not care about me was because I did not interfere. I wasn’t keen on broken bones. Maybe I’m a coward. I don’t know. I just hedged a risk.”

“So what happened?” another asked to skip over the awkwardness that threatened to topple the mood. “Unicorns took him down with magic?”

Wide sipped at his tankard. He loved the rustic atmosphere in the Last Round. “No,” he answered with a head shake. “They tried. But there’s this rare thing with earth ponies where they have a natural resistance to magic. He’s one of them. He shrugged off some of their spells and broke the others before breaking some casters as well.”

Two of his companions whistled. “Wow. That’s just… wow. That’s carnage,” one said.

Wide nodded. “It was. At that point, basically everypony in the stadium knew about what was happening and all flocked to his hallway to either watch or put an end to it. Several officers came and after a while, they tired him out, I think. They clasped his hooves in iron and I had to restrain myself so hard to not laugh. Like… had they seen what he did? To these ponies? To those walls? A few iron chains wouldn’t hold him if he tried to break free. But I think it was more about the gesture. To reassure the others.”

“What’s the total?” the earth pony asked.

“I’m not sure. A dozen injured or something like that,” Wide answered with a shrug. “They took him to the dungeons, stripped him of his rank. Last I heard, he might end up in front of a judge. Mostly depends if some of those injured wish to press charges, I assume.”

“Jeez,” one of his buddies muttered. “It’s so scary to think that something like that is running around. I hope they lock him up for good.”

There was a part of Wide that hoped the same. He had never truly known that ponies like Rock Solid even existed. These primal, feral creatures capable of incredible feats. He had defended that stallion earlier, saying he was not a monster, not a mindless beast, and he stood by that statement. Still, Rock Solid was so much closer to that unrestrained nature of raw strength than anypony else. Wide had heard of incredible strength being displayed by earth ponies under dire circumstances. The same way some pegassi displayed astonishing speed when a pressing need arose or some unicorns found vast power boosts when shit really hit the fan.

But with most ponies, that was some sort of last resort. A last hooray before the lights went out. With Rock Solid, it seemed like a grinning predator’s face right beneath a paper-thin surface.

It baffled him to think that this stallion had made it through training without beating half his class to a pulp. How he had made it in the day guard for years and years, enough so that many regarded him as a taciturn and rough senior. Wide had even heard that Rock had enough years in the guard under his belt that he should have been a higher rank by now. Maybe his violent behavior was a reason why he was constantly set back?

The table fell quiet for a moment as all the recruits contemplated the story. The Last Round as a whole was never fully quiet though, especially not at this hour. The various conversations from other tables sloshed over. Laughter from other recruits telling their stories to their friends. Accusations of cheating from tables where cards were flung around. Giggling from tables where couples enjoyed a nice outing.

After what felt like several minutes, his earth pony friend broke the silence again. “Alright, I’m done moping. I’m gonna order a new round. As for your story, Wide? It was a gud’n, as my grandma would say. I have some serious doubts about the capabilities of your Rock Solid though. I feel like you exaggerated his abilities just too much. An imbecile like this thing wouldn’t stand a chance against a sergeant of the day guard, let alone a dozen unicorns. I get that he’s big and tough and strong and what have you, I’ve heard those stories as well, but jeez, come on, we’re not that gullible!”

“Also, a bastard with that poor of an impulse control would never make it into the guard. They wouldn’t even accept him as a recruit,” another of his friends mused. “I don’t mind you bullshitting us either, it’s still amusing, but I have to agree here. The guard has standards, and I can’t see them accepting a brute like that guy.”

It was fine, Wide told himself. They did not believe him. Each one of them drank at least two full tankards so far, for better or worse. He was fine with them not believing him. He would not have believed himself either. It was fine.

While his friends started to discuss the various issues with Wide’s story in excruciating detail with each other, Wide’s attention was drawn elsewhere. Another corner of the Last Round had become eerily quiet. And as a unicorn with mostly defensive focus, he had a good intuition when it came to brewing trouble. Especially when he heard a noise that almost sounded like a snarl. He turned his head. Looked towards that darker corner two tables over. And froze.

It was fine, he tried to tell himself as he soiled his chair.

Rock Solid slowly stepped out of the corner. His face expressionless, emotionless as usual. Stony. Harr. Harr.

Wide wanted to warn his friends. He wanted so desperately to scream at them. To run. To scatter. To flee. Get out of here, now! But he was frozen, rooted to the spot. Again. Just like last time. Just like in that locker room. He could only stare in disbelief. How. How was this possible? How was this guy here, of all places?! What had he ever done wrong to deserve this cruel twist of fate?

Rock stopped right at their table. His friends stopped bickering and slowly turned their attention to the newest arrival. Too slow. Rock put a hoof on the table's edge and Wide could only squint his eyes shut for what was to come next.

A couple of seconds later, a pegasus was thrown out the upper story window of the Last Resort. He managed to get his bearings quick enough to open his wings in an attempt to slow down his rapid descent towards the ground. And it would have worked, were it not for the table that was flung out the window after him.

Screams of surprise, terror and pain grew louder from inside the bar.

The Last Resort was a safe place, usually. Close to the training fields, many of the customers were recruits or guards.

It took twenty-four of them to take him down this time.

Ever since Queen Chrysalis’ attempted invasion of Canterlot, the higher-ups knew about the vast network of caves and tunnels beneath the city. While many city officials had lobbied for the network to be closed off entirely and many of the noble families, hoping for yet more riches, had lobbied for its exploration, the decision was ultimately left to Princess Celestia herself.

In her infinite wisdom — and as per usual trapped between opposing forces which got along as well as rats and snakes —, she decided to do both and neither. The stable, more well-known part was transformed into a second dungeon to house the more unruly prisoners of Equestria, right beneath the castle where the Princesses themselves could keep tabs on them. Meanwhile the unexplored parts of the network were slowly explored and mapped. Very slowly. And very cautiously.

This way, the city officials were reassured that the city and its populace was not put in unnecessary danger, while the nobles could still hope for more wealth, albeit at a considerably slower pace than they had expected to gain it at.

After many, many, many incidents, Rock Solid had hit rock bottom.

Attacking a superior was a grave transgression. Enough of an incident to actually drop him from the guard. And many officers had breathed a sigh of relief that day, hoping that with him gone from the ranks, things would finally look up for them. For many years he had been a liability. If one needed a living, breathing battering ram, if one needed to break bones and smash heads together, then Rock Solid was a perfect choice.

But this was Canterlot, for crying out loud. The guard did not need that kind of help here. They needed ponies with enough smarts to understand the social web of influences and enough finesse to navigate them. Rock Solid would have been a perfect choice to employ in some backwater town where he could bandy blows with the local flora and fauna. He would have been a good pioneer, settling on Equestrian borders to squabble with the locals.

But he refused. Stubborn like a mule, he refused to move to another town, he refused to lay down his rank and exit the guard gracefully and he paid shallow lip service to those demanding restraint of him.

With this latest incident at the Last Resort, he had gone one step too far. The guard could not afford to be associated with this pony any longer. He besmirched their good reputation by being a crude cudgel that attacked just about anypony.

So he was thrown into the dungeons. The ‘lower levels’, as the guard referred to the caves beneath Canterlot.

Metal sconces lit up the hallways. Most of them were rough, natural stone, but every now and then, massive geodes of purple crystals broke through. Their polished surfaces reflected the light and gave the entire network an eerie atmosphere.

Rock was stuck in a small cell behind massive metal bars. He had looked at them in detail, only to notice that breaking free would not be easy. Not impossible. He was still confident that he could break these bars free either at the bottom or at the top. But he could only kick against them at full strength when the shift change happened. And he had to be careful not to damage the bars themselves in a visible way or else they would probably inspect his cell and fix the damage.

The guard watching the entire complex was not even in sight. He sat on his table, probably munching on some treats from Donut Joe’s, somewhere further down these winding, labyrinthine corridors.

And Rock… was bored.

That changed however when a bright orange light briefly flashed off to the side. He heard soft hoofsteps as somepony snuck around, closer to his cell.

Rock grunted and rose from the simple bedding they had given him. This ought to be interesting.

A hooded figure approached his cell. The wide, dark cloak, coupled with the dim, flickering light of too few torches made it almost impossible to properly see any details. It clearly was what his visitor was aiming for, so Rock did not even bother gathering any more information than the obvious: This pony was bold enough to break the law by teleporting straight into a prison. And Rock knew that they had some sort of magical field or something in place to prevent that very thing from happening. So this pony had gone to some lengths to get in here.

“I heard you are for hire whenever you do not sit in a cell?” the stranger asked.

A deeply satisfied smile grew on Rock's rough face. “Sure.”

His visitor waited. He clearly expected more. More of an answer. Contract negotiations. Questions. Anything. When nothing came, his visitor awkwardly cleared his throat. “Right. Do you even care what I ask of you? Or what your payment will be?”

Rock scoffed. “Why? Do you pay me to care? You went through a lot of trouble to come here. So you better know who I am and what I do. The payment just makes the fun sweeter. And getting out of here is worth a lot.” He looked up at the ceiling. At the clear lines his escape attempts had scraped into the blunt stone so far. He would have totally gotten free within the next couple of days. No point in lingering further to prove it. As such, he turned his attention to his seemingly speechless visitor again. “So. We done talking now?”

A magical aura the same color as the teleportation flash encompassed the lock of his cell and melted the whole thing into a steaming puddle on the floor. “Nice trick,” Rock commented and opened the gate. His visitor reached out with a hoof to signify their agreement. And as a cruel grin grew on Rock's face, he shook this stranger's hoof. He could already tell.

This would be fun.