Author's Note

This is a part of the Jest Days of Christmas, where I update something every single day of December. Go check out the link for the full list and check back everyday for a new update!

Chimera Go Splat!

With a titanic heave, I was able to throw off the weight of the earth above me and emerge once more reborn. Standing upright, I immediately thanked my prior self for having cut and expanded my pants so that they could contain my new bulk. And there was a lot of it, as I had jumped weight classes once more, going from a skar boy, to what felt like a nob or maybe even a warboss.

“It's about damn time,” I muttered to myself.

Glancing around the increasingly claustrophobic tower, I noticed that nothing was out of the ordinary. Inspecting the area a little closer, I expected to find some of the pointy, black-capped mushrooms that signified a boy was growing nearby. Yet I found none, and worse yet I didn't notice any spores, though I couldn't be certain since I didn't know if they could be seen by the naked eye in the first place.

“How am I gunna fight 'da whole damn galaxy if I don't have me Boyz?” I demanded. “Zog it. I'll jus keep gett'n fightia. Maybe afta Iz as big as a warboss I'll have some Boyz uv me own.”

Still annoyed, but with a plan in mind, I turned to look outside only to just then realize that it was raining pretty hard. Not only that but the wind was loud, and lightning was constantly illuminating the night sky with jagged bolts.

“No rain iz gonna slow down Ghuzrod Sunrekka!” I proclaimed, only to pause. “Oi. I really need me Boyz. Start'n ta talk ta myself alot.”

Heading outside, I immediately stepped on something sharp and regretted not making myself a pair of boots. I picked up my foot and inspected the base, finding that there was a familiar quill stuck into my leathery flesh. Annoyed, but unharmed, I picked it out and looked down to see that there was a neat pile of the quills just lying there on the ground.

Confused and equally amused, I gathered them up and headed for the forge. The driving rain soaked me to the bone almost immediately, but I just shrugged it off and kept going. With the downpour no longer a concern I once more inspected my surroundings only to end up even more confused than before.

“Wot. Why iz 'der so many quills jus ly'n about?” I muttered.

Piles of the things were all over the place as if someone had gathered them up for me. I was about to brush it off as weird luck but was startled by a fat parasprite belching up a mass of the pointy spikes on the ground. The undigested remains of the spiky buggers were piled about as high as the rest, solving the mystery of why they were there.

“Aint yer a gud weird little bug fing,” I muttered. “Keep it up an I'll make sure yer're always fed right an propa like.”

I patted the bright red parasprite on the head affectionately. The little bugger made a happy chirping noise and buzzed its wings, making me grin.

“Right den. Let's make some propa boots. Fix ma kuirass an’ den see about kover'n me legs,” I declared.

I set to work and found that although I had a surprisingly large number of quills, they didn't go terribly far. My cuirass was repaired, and I was able to make some greaves, sabatons, the knee part of plate mail, and even the thigh coverings but that was it. That wasn't all, mind you, as I ran out of leather at about that point anyway, only having had enough to make some shoes, and the straps to keep all the armor together.

It was ramshackle, but the leather was thick, taken from the bugbear king I had slain and dragged back here. I would have had more, but the parasprites had eaten a good third of him by the time I woke up. It didn't matter in the end though, as I was at least armored from the waist down in thick, heavy plates.

“Now dis iz some propa armor. I'z a step away from look'n like a real knight. Or at least I would if dis wasn't a dull grey kolor,” I remarked. “Maybe I should snazz it up a little. Paint it blue for luck, or maybe black ta make it nice an’ tough.”

I shrugged. “Bah. I kan worry about 'dat lata once I work out ma clan kolors.”

That thought prompted me to consider what I’d call my clan. Sure I had given it and my color scheme some thought, but I still hadn't settled on anything. I had plenty of cool ideas, but nothing quite felt right so I decided not to linger on it for too long.

I just thanked Gork, or Mork for giving me enough brains to figure out basic armor smithing. Sure it was crude and far heavier than it needed to be, but I had little doubt it would get the job done.

“Too bad I don't have anyth'n ta kova me arms dough,” I exclaimed.

I shrugged and walked over to the edge of the forge area. There I stared out at the rain, half crouched in the mud and muck, my brain churning with ideas. I needed to keep fighting, that much was obvious, but what was there left to fight?

A cragadile maybe, but could I even kill one of those things without explosives or something? I brushed that thought aside, deciding that was a bridge I’d cross when I got there.

A chimera was the next most logical choice, as it was a bit bigger than a manticore, but also had three times as many heads. More than that it was intelligent, being near, or on par with, a pony. That fact alone would ensure a good fight, one that may even net my next evolution and finally get my body to release some spores.

“‘Dat sounded weird,” I muttered.

I shrugged to myself once more and was about to set out when I realized there was one creature I hadn't thought of. A hydra, though I was fairly certain even in my current state I would be no match for such a beast. It was enormous, shown in the show to easily dwarf an adult dragon by several orders of magnitude.

“Hopefully I don't run into wun uv dose. I'd need a whole pack uv Boyz ta deal wit' wun uv im,” I remarked aloud. “Whelp. No use stand'n around do'n noth'n. Let's go kill someth'n.”

With that thought in mind, I set out, tromping through the muddy earth in a random direction once more. I was trusting the forest again, but unlike the last few times, I didn't really mind it. The forest, or whatever force was guiding me had done a bang-up job so far, so I wasn't about to complain or think twice.

With my head down and Pig Sticka in my right hand, I stomped noisily into the woods without a clear destination. As I walked through the storm, I began to wonder if a chimera would even be a decent fight. They were only twice as tall as a pony in the show, and I was at least four or five ponies tall at this point.

Not only that but I was strong, like really strong. Each time I moved my arms I felt the chorded muscles beneath my flesh flex and contort. I felt as though I could tear a tank apart and if I remembered my lore correctly that was indeed a possibility.

An ork nob could pull the limbs off a space, even if they were in power armor, and survive some truly ridiculous punishment. Add to that my own crude, but battle-tested and effective armor and I was about a step away from being a walking tank. A chimera may be pretty smart, but I was bigger and meaner than a space marine, and few things could beat them.

I began to worry that there would be nothing capable of challenging me, but then I remembered this was my little pony. There were chaos gods, thousand-foot-tall dragons older than the hills, and hyper-competent magic users that could probably turn me into a tea cup before I could yell a war cry. Upon realizing there were still plenty of things capable of killing me, I relaxed, safe in the assumption that there were plenty of lethal foes left to fight.

It was at about this point that I noticed that the ground had begun to grow bumpier, and the landscape weirder for lack of a better word. The trees were twisted, and nearly everything was covered in thorns, even the flowers. My slowing feet picked up a moment later when I heard a scream somewhere nearby, the sound just barely piercing the veil of the thunderous downpour.

Picking up the pace, I sprinted in the direction of the noise, shoulder-checking through trees and stomping entire bushes flat in the process. My blitz through the woods worked, and only a few seconds later I emerged into a small clearing safe from the storm. There I noticed that several abnormally tall trees created a canopy so thick and so dense that it even muffled the sounds of the rain.

It was there, on what looked like an ill-used and clearly ancient road that I found the ponies that had been in trouble. A small caravan with several carts full of goods was arrayed in a circle, their former owners huddled at the center. They looked to be a mix of Zebra, and earth ponies, though one of their number stood out from the rest. I recognized Zecora, though she hadn't seen me, as the striped mare was busy fending off a large foe.

Standing as tall as me and looming over the ponies was an elder chimera, one scarred by battle and time. A mix of a tiger, a goat, and a snake, they were clearly a step above the one in the show. This was likely due to their advanced age which was made evident by their greying fur, and the fact that they were quite literally long in the tooth.

“Throw another of those potions and your end will be a slow one!” Bellowed the tiger head.

“Until you give up and shoo, I’ll keep throwing them at you!” Zecora retorted.

“Fat chance, morsel. You stepped on our territory and that makes you dinner,” exclaimed the goat head.

“Sssso be a good sssnack and ssstop fighting back!” snapped the viper head.

“I got a betta idea. Why don't ya try an pick on someone yer own size?” I countered, stomping into the clearing.

The chimera spun toward me, its eyes going wide and a look of confusion crossing all three of its faces.

“What in Tartarus are you supposed to? Some kind of ugly green ape?” remarked the goat head.

“Got more 'n kommon wit' mushrooms but 'dat's really neitha ere nor 'der really,” I replied with a shrug.

“Mushrooms? You make as much sense as you do proper words,” hissed the snake head.

“I don't need propa gramma ta give yer a propa krumpin,” I retorted, jabbing Pig Sticka at them.

“So the hideous beast wants to play the part of the knight. Fine, you shall serve as the main course,” the tiger head declared.

“Before we dig into these tasty little deserts on legs,” added the snake head.

“Perhaps we could even keep them for a while,” mused the goat head. “Cut off their legs and let them sit in our cave, like one of the ponies baked goods.”

“Oi would yer quit yer yammer'n an fight already? I'z gett'n bored ova ere," I exclaimed.

“Let us be rid of this beast, dear sisters,” declared the goat head.

“Yes, let's,” hissed the snake head.

I took that as the sign to start, and with Pig Sticka raised high over my head, I charged straight at them, screaming all the while. Once again the sheer strength of my war cry seemed to catch my foe off guard, as did the fury of my charge. As I was able to deliver the first strike, though they had enough time to dodge far enough out of the way that my attempted decapitation only removed one of the goat’s horns.

The chimera struck back, the tiger head clawing at my midsection while the snake attempted to bite me in the neck. I dodged out of the way of the snake, and just took the scratch on the chest, tanking the damage rather than wasting effort avoiding it. The strike was heavy, and their claws sharp, but between my tough-as-nails hide, and thick armor nothing got through to actually hurt me.

I followed it up with another swipe of my sword, my aim centered on their main bulk. Though lightning fast, they were able to hop out of the way in time. The goat head then breathed in and exhaled a gout of flame straight for my face.

Raising Pig Sticka, I blocked the torrent of fire, but not the bite aimed at my free arm. Temporarily blinded, I hadn't even noticed the tiger lurching forward until her jaws were already around my bicep. She tried to bite down, to sever the limb completely, but my skin was harder than most leather, and my bones thicker than most trees. Even still, I could feel something crack inside my arm, and I knew that if I didn't remove the creature it would eventually be able to bite through it completely.

“Get off, ya damn git!” I shouted.

Bringing down the butt of Pig Stick against the side of the tiger’s head, I knocked something loose, causing the head to recoil. That still left the other two open, however, and the snake head bit me in the shoulder before I had the chance to recoil. The venom it pumped into my veins was unpleasant, but I was tougher than most and shook off its effects.

“Thisss one is ssstrong,” exclaimed the snake head after pulling back out of range.

“Stop yapp'n ya ugly grot,” I spat.

I lurched forward, and slashed at the beast, my blade parting flesh and leaving a deep gouge in the tiger’s face. I pressed my advantage immediately, driving forward with swipe after swipe. Though I was able to score a few hits, the chimera was freakishly fast, and was able to dodge nearly everything.

It then leaped back, and inhaled once more, preparing to unleash another blast of fire at me. I matched its speed and attacked before it had a chance though, swiping at the goat head with my blade. The snake intercepted my attack by throwing itself in the way. Its scales were somehow able to take the brunt of the damage, losing a few of the flakey things in the process but saving the goat from losing its head.

I had been so confident in my attack that I hadn't really considered it not working, and thus could do little to stop the fire. I managed to partially block them with Pig Sticka but it didn't stop the flames from singing my face and heating up my cuirass. Pissed off, but relatively unharmed, I stumbled back, hoping to dodge the bite I felt was coming.

Sure enough, the tiger’s jaws snapped shut mere millimeters away, the beast attempting to strike a moment after the goat finished spitting fire at me. Their coordination was good, but they had been confident as I had been confident, giving me an opening like they just had. I slashed the beast across the shoulder before it had a chance to react, cutting deep enough to leave it with a limp.

I was about to go for a second one and hopefully remove the limb entirely but was cut off when the snake head lurched forward. Balling my fist, I struck it in the snout before it had a chance to inject any more venom into me, breaking one of its fangs. This small victory only lasted a moment, as the goat head lunged forward, and struck me square in the chest with its one remaining horn.

Though not enough to dent the cuirass, it still sent me flying and knocked Pig Sticka out of my hand. As I picked myself out of the mud, the chimera strode forward and plucked my blade from the ground. The goat head then began to squeeze down with its jaws, making the metal begin to squeal and buckle from the pressure.

“Letss see how ssstrong you are without your toy,” teased the snake head.

“Drop it, ya ugly bastard!” I shouted.

I lurched forward, intent on pulling the blade free, only to be beaten to the punch. The goat’s jaws closed, and Pig Sticka snapped in two. The shattered pieces were then spat onto the ground before being stomped on several times, just for spite.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Teased the tiger head.

My right eye twitched, and a vein in my neck bulged. “You, broke, me, sword!”

Mad beyond reason, I screamed an incoherent howl that landed somewhere between a war cry and an insult. I didn't care to be eloquent, however, nor did I give much thought to tactics or even my own well-being. I was pissed, and my only thought was of bashing the chimera’s heads in with my own two hands.

Shocked and confused, the chimera was taken aback just long enough for me to close the distance between us. Shoulder checking the tiger head, I pulled back my fist and slugged the goat square in the nose, flattening its face slightly. As it reeled, I pressed the attack, striking it repeatedly with a series of alternating left and right haymakers.

With each blow, a thunderous impact rang through the multiheaded creature’s body with enough force to temporarily lift it from its feet. My fists were as hard as stone and carried enough kinetic energy to overwhelm even the ancient monster’s thick natural armor. Its flesh was tough and rugged, and its muscles large but the raw strength of an angry nob was not something to be trifled with. Even still, whatever small, rational part of my brain that was still firing recognized that the chimera was probably about as tough as a space marine.

At about the fifth hit, I knocked one of its fangs loose, along with a handful of other smaller teeth. I was going to continue to vent my rage at it, but the snakehead struck, burying its fangs in my shoulder and pumping me full of venom. Turning my attention, I grabbed the thing at the base of its skull and pulled just enough that I could bite it right back.

Its scales were tough, but my jaw was strong, and I could feel that my strength would win out soon enough. While I bit it, it bit me, desperately trying to fell me with its foul toxins before I did it in. My orkoid physiology was likely helping me as I couldn't feel any effects yet, my strange blood and alien physiology fighting it off for the moment.

Though I could tank the foreign liquid burning its way through my veins, things grew a bit more difficult when the tiger head bit down on my arm. The limb, already slightly numbed from the toxin, didn't have enough power left in it to free itself no matter how hard I tugged. So I simply ignored it and decided to keep punching the goat with my free arm while biting down on the snake head.

The first strike split the goat’s lip, the second knocked loose an eyeball, the third destroyed its cheekbone. The fourth shattered its jaw, and the six sent it reeling with such force that its neck made a horrible snapping noise. Its death gave the other heads pause for a moment, perhaps out of shock, or some kind of physiological reaction.

Regardless of why, it allowed me enough time to bite the head off the snake and let it flop around in the mud. This time the death of one of its sisters didn't shock the tiger, rather it enraged it, and with newfound strength it bit down on my arm. Before I had a chance to turn my attention to it fully, the tiger’s enormous teeth pierced the limb completely and with a twist, it tore the limb free.

Down an arm, I stumbled back a step, now bleeding quite profusely and feeling the effect of the venom. Obviously paralytic, my body was growing heavy, my limbs unresponsive, but I was stronger still.

“You will pay for my sister’s deaths, monster!” spat the remaining head.

“Blah blah blah flight me already, ya git!” I mocked.

With a cry, the chimera threw itself at me with what I assumed was complete abandon. Uncaring as to whether it lived or died, the creature was determined to bring me down no matter the cost. Facing such aggression I sought to arm myself, only to chuckle when my gaze settled on the only available armament.

Meeting its charge, I sprinted forward and picked up my discarded arm as I went. Wielding the limb like a club, I bashed it against the tiger’s face, knocking it to the side. I stepped forward immediately, pressing it with another overhand swing of my arm-wielding arm.

It tried to turn and bite me but I kept it off balance by kicking out its already wounded leg. Always one step ahead of the creature, I slowly bludgeoned it to death with my own arm. Welts and bruises quickly covered its face and head while its movements grew clumsier.

“No, not like this,” it muttered.

I tossed my arm aside and stepped forward, the arm still attached to my body raised high over my head. The tiger looked up at me but could do nothing but watch as I brought my fist down on its skull. The force of the blow displaced the air beneath its head and made the beast’s chin bounce off the ground. Though barely moving, I struck the chimera a second time, and then a third time in the same manner, only stopping when its movements ceased.

Plunking down on the ground, I grabbed my discarded limb and lined it back up to the empty socket. Only to just then realize that I had no way to hold it there.

“Any uv yer stripey horses or ponys got any needle an' dread?” I asked.

The terrified critters looked to me, then the chimera, and finally to Zecora. For a moment I thought she was going to let me sit there, bleeding and dismembered in the mud. Then she retrieved something from a wagon and leaped over the wooden barrier they had erected.

“I have indeed what you asked, but if it is to be effective we must move fast,” Zecora exclaimed.

I grinned and watched as the zebra fearlessly ran over to me, and began to stitch my arm back against my shoulder. I couldn't do much to help her, other than sit there and hold the limb where it should be, but she didn't complain.

“Danks, pony. What's yer name? Iz Ghuzrod,” I offered.

“Zecora is the name I do use, and you have taken much abuse,” Zecora exclaimed. “My help I will not shirk, but I’m not sure if this will work.”

“Don't worry about it. Us orks are plenty tough. Jus sew up ‘dat arm an’ I'll be right as rain 'n no time," I offered.

Zecora paused. “What you say you are is rather bizarre. I heard your kind were dead, or at least so I’ve read.”

“Yer've had 'perience wit' us? Well, den sorry about dat. Not all us greenskins are decent folk but don't ya worry none, I'z not a bad slime-er ork," I offered.

I took a moment to look down at Zecora and note that her forelegs were completely covered in my blood. It was to be expected, as although my orkish resistance was beginning to work and had started to staunch the flow, I was still a bit of a mess. The zebra didn't seem to mind though, and diligently worked away at sewing my arm back in the right place.

“That is good to hear because the tomes were not kind, though perhaps it was my ancestors who were blind,” Zecora declared.

“Nah. Most uv us orks are dumb, blood dirsty morons," I dismissed. “Iz a special kase since well… It's a long story.”

“After we had a chance to be free of the grime, you could come down to chat sometime,” Zecora declared.

“Maybe 'n ‘da future we kould do 'dat but for now I still got plenty uv work ta do. Poniez ta protect, an fights ta be had," I replied.

“You can't seriously consider going out in your state, even someone as tough as you should wait,” Zecora added.

I added the last few stitches myself before biting off the thread. I then stood up and shook my arm until feeling suddenly returned to it. Once I could move my fingers, I balled my hand into a fist and struck my chest twice.

“Don't yer worry about me none. Ya jus get yer friends ta Ponyville an' right quick like," I retorted, gesturing to the still cowering but increasingly brave zebras and ponies hiding behind their wagons.

“Thank you again for the assistance you did grant. Though I’d like to thank you properly I’m afraid I can't,” Zecora exclaimed.

“Don’t worry about it,” I dismissed. “Now yer betta get outta ere. Dis storm looks like it's gonna last a while.”

“You are of course, right and we best move while we have some light,” Zecora remarked.

“Right den, Iz off," I proclaimed.

I then turned and began to walk away, pausing just long enough to scoop up the shattered remains of Pig Sticka. Looking down at the shattered pile of scrap, I couldn't help but frown and feel a little sad at the loss of my weapon. I was about to depart, intent on reforging the thing when I heard the soft splish splash of hooves approaching. Turning around, I found that one of the older zebras from the caravan was approaching with a large metal bar sitting on his back.

“Sir. I saw you lost your weapon,” offered the voice of the scared, but brave zebra. “I don't have something quite your size but perhaps this will help you purchase a new one, or forge your own.”

“Danks a lot little wun. Yer stay safe now," I exclaimed, plucking the metal bar from his back.

“I will, thank you again,” he hastily replied.

The zebra then all but sprinted away, leaving me to look down at the hunk of metal fondly.

“Ya'll do nicely," I muttered.