Name: The Talisman of Exile

Object class: Inanimate - Talisman/Amulet
Magical Properties: Charmed, Hex subcategory
Threat level: Bothersome
Approximate age: Created somewhere around 50 to 30 BLB, a probable Starswirl The Bearded experiment.

Description: A hexagonal pendant approximately five centimeters across carved from a hip bone of a deceased specimen of male Unicorn, most probable reason being enchantment retention, suspended from a simple leather strap of no easily discernable magical properties. Recognizable by the colorful enchantments written in Old Atileic runic alphabet covering its entire surface.

Upon activation immediately bonds itself to the magical signature of an individual and cannot be taken off by him. In its primary function, it bars the one wearing it from entering any area specified by the one putting the amulet on the person. In its centuries of existence used to keep dangerous individuals of special interest far from Equestrian soil in case any other containment methods failed or were otherwise unavailable.

Advised Action: Search & Retrieve. Resident scry didn’t sense the target moving, so it’s almost certain you’re going to find it buried underground or in some long forgotten cave still upon the skeletal remains of the last unfortunate “owner”.

================================

Agent Addendum: Seriously, Amber? A... probable Starswirl experiment? He’s back among us living, just ask him about it for Celestia’s sake! I don’t know if you categorized this one or was it Archer, but if it was him, tell that scrawny coat hanger I’m going to kick him in the ass next time I see him. You’re Archivists, label your stuff properly and stop making our job, mine specifically, more difficult... please.

- Agent 8

...

That oughta show them. Or maybe even teach them something, if he’s lucky enough.

...

What was he saying, of course they’re not gonna learn. They’re Archivists. It’s in their nature to remain stagnant, unchanging as the old books and papers they guard for untold millennia.

You know, you’d think that ponies so intellectually inclined would be more logical in their approach to proper.. well, archival procedures. But no. Why wound they, when you can be as crazy as a circus monkey and so all over the place like an off-balance dreidel.

”If Princess Celestia didn’t handle our budget directly...”

As the warm flames of his campfire danced around with the wind and licked the edges of his recent addition, they eagerly licked at their freshly added wooden supper. He had half a mind to just toss another one of the official documents into the depths of the roaring fire, making some red hot embers very happy.

But no. He shouldn’t. Twice in a row was a pattern.

Instead, maybe he should just swipe some Liquid Luck the next time he’s in the vaults. Add some to his morning coffee, right before suggesting that Amber and the rest of those Scribes, Archivists, Paper Priests whatchamacallits organize and rewrite the whole Archive. By hoof, no magic.

Dishonorably discharged? Maybe. *sniff*... Maybe. Remembered by the whole Bureau as a legend?

Certainly.

...

He should turn in for the night. The sun has gone behind the horizon and there’s still at least half a day of road ahead of him, so he has to get up early.

Let no one ever say that Agent 8 is less efficient than the rest.

᠍

=============⬡=============

᠍
Only a few dozen meters more and he will be there.

Wherever there was. The scrying of the royal glorified fortune teller was either very precise or near utterly useless.

Agent 8 supposed he drew some short straw this time around. As he tended to do.

”Always harsh wind in the eyes of poor Agent Eigh- wait a dang minute. I’m alone on this assignment. So my name is mother given Ardent Point if I feel like it,” Ardent thought to himself, hoping that he would be stuck with his own thoughts for too- long... huh...

It seamed he wouldn’t be.

”Open...” *WHAM* ”...sesame... ” *WHAM* ”...you stupid... ” *WHAM* ”..bubble!”

Huh. It was a sight one doesn't see everyday.

Unless someone saw an aquamarine stallion slamming quite a sizable branch against a straw yellow bubble of magical energy holding him hostage in a cave in the middle of nowhere every other day. Ardent debated letting him tire out before engaging, but from what he saw, the stallion wasn't peak of health anyway. Certainly no match for an agent of the bureau. Here they go.

”The Heck you're doing?”

The branch stopped abruptly mere centimeters from striking the translucent shield once more, its wielder looking around in panic before his eyes found the brown coated white maned stallion dressed in an x-style leather barding, many pockets surely full of useful tools. Dangerous tools.

”And you are you?!” The scared pegasus asked quickly, drooping the branch in haste and fumbling around his travel cloak for a hoof knife he had strapped to his right foreleg.

...Somewhere.

”Woah.. easy there Mr. Fight Club,” Aiden said while raising his forehoof appeasingly in order to calm the stranger down. ”I'm not going to hurt you. Here,” He pulled out his Agency ID faster than the other stallion could react. ”I'm a government official, here on a mission. I can help you if you tell me what's going on here, alright?”

While the trapped stallion didn't recognize the.. whatever CRB was, he seemed to scan the document for a few seconds before coming back to his cautious apprehension. Apparently the stallion wasn't all hot air too, as he somehow managed to pull out his knife without Ardent noticing, now brandishing it proudly and wheezing like an ox, stress eating him alive. Slowly, he calmed his breath, only to drop his blade into dirt suddenly and sit heavily on his backside in defeat.

”It's been hoho-rible!” Cloaked stallion wailed suddenly, his waterworks giving a full on performance in a split second.

"Oh boy..."

=============⬡=============

᠍

”And then you decided to just... hit it? With a log you found?”

He wasn't proud of it, but the now introduced Wither (what an unfortunate name) admitted it freely. ”What else could I have done?” He starred into the flames of a campfire lit by his chance companion outside the cave while he ate the rest of the travel ration given to him. After all, the barrier only kept him inside, the objects able to pass freely. As such, he poked a wayward stick he found on his side into the embers present on the other side of the barrier. ”I'm a pegasus. I know there are obscure magicks I could learn while not being a unicorn, but I'm no mage.” He stopped to think and chew the consistently uniform yet nutritious gruel. ”I was.. desperate.”

”Hey, no blame here,” Aiden said truthfully. ”Believe me, I've seen much worse... and been there myself. Multiple times,” He too admitted without remorse. Pride was the thing he lost first, years ago.

Wither, though... Colt, oh Colt. What an utterly unusual and wholly unfortunate story.

And Aiden knew it was true. The stallion had no other choice but to come clean.

Witherfront, his full name, was a small time thief back in Trottingham, regularly shunned and ostracized because of his.. hmm.. profession. Not that he wanted or liked to steal, but beetween his ailing mother and severely alcoholic father, he and his two brothers did what they had to... Wither apparently better than the other two, considering he was alive... and they were not.

Ultimately, his many colorful criminal escapades landed him a one way ticket out of Equestria, courtesy of the Count of Trottingham. Wither clearly punched way above the weight class that he should have and you make that kind of a mistake only once.

Now that he was banished, never to see his family or country ever again, his initial plan was to try his luck in Klugetown. Climb up the ladder, try to organize some semblance of a life for himself. Yet before he could reach the town or even the desolate deserts of southern Equestria, he got lost with the forests of Macintosh Mountains. As luck would have or the lack of it, he stumbled upon a cave he planned to spend the night in just so he would freeze. Yet then there was a skeleton inside and and some nice loot on him..

Skeleton holding an ancient artifact within a remote cave, huh? ...blasted Archivists and their near clairvoyant accurate predictions... wait a second...

Dammit. He owed Agent Four a drink now and his sense of righteousness won't let him lie... the prick better enjoy his over-sweetened Poña Colada.

Instead of stashing it away Wither put the amulet on, got spooked by a flock of awakened bats and subconsciously ordered the amulet to ban him from being where the bats were... but by then the bats were outside. Unfortunately, ancient magic like this was most often either very literal or purely poetic. Intricacies of modern language not designed to interact with the ancient spells notwithstanding.

50/50 to say it's your unlucky day.

Guess the bluish stallion pulled wrong on this particular one hoofed bandit.

Always someone to have a shit day.

So they were, they sat, two stallions on two sides of a barrier impenetrable to any but the most magically gifted residents of this planet of theirs. Eating and enjoying the warmth of a proper fire out in the wilderness.

The heat passed the barrier too, in case you wondered. Otherwise Wither would suffocate, sooner or later.

Aiden wished he could say it was the first time it happened to him... but then again, he was an Agent of the CRB. Alright. He should resolve this situation now. For both of their sakes.

”Tell me Wither...” He asked of the other stallion. ”...are you a good Pony?”

A brief silence was his answer.

”...what kind of question is that?!” Wither shouted, his poking stick and leftover tasteless ration quickly forgotten.

”The kind that is sadly rather common in my line of work.” Aiden revealed calmly, now observing the other individual with careful scrutiny, his friendly attitude gone and behavior shifted. ”A stallion locked away by a unbreakable barrier in a cave in the middle of nowhere, begging to be let out,” He stood up, only to look his companion in they eyes while he lay down on the grass in front of the barrier. ”I do this long enough that my experience dictates caution. You could have told me the truth or... you could be a ancient daemon lying and deceiving me, only to reveal its true form and slit my throat mere seconds after I let him out.”

The bluish pony sat in silence for a bit before asking, ”How can I defend against that?”

”You can't,” Agent Eight admitted. ”Now you're upon my mercy and it's entirely my decision if you live or die.”

...

”And it's your lucky day it would seem. Bring me the bone of that skeleton you pilfered, any bone.”

Surprised and bewildered Wither wanted clarification, ”Bone?”

”Since the person that imprisoned you was, well.. you, you can't wish the hex away,” He explained while getting up. ”Ancient unperfect magic rules mumbo jumbo. Setting you free will require a ritual and for that, I need some part of the previous owner of the amulet.”

”Wait.. Ritual? You're an earth pony though.” Wither was rather confused. How did he expect to-

”Didn't you say something akin to "I know there are obscure magicks I could learn while not being a unicorn"?” He smiled with pity, as he did many times before. ”Let's just say, I had way more time and opportunities to learn than you did.”

They stayed interlocked in the gazing contest for a few seconds before one of them broke. ”Okay,” Wither said. ”Some bones coming right up.”

While the trapped stallion fetched a piece of the deceased, Aiden just prayed he was right once again and not just happened to meet a particularly crafty spawn of underworld.. or even worse, from Beyond.

If you asked him, It was almost funny, on some... highly twisted cosmic level. In its core design, the whole Bureau is supposed to find and retrieve artifacts of all kinds so that they don't endanger The Ponykind.. or any other races... Nothing more or less.

...While most often they end up battling the highly magical or superbly spiritual and purely paranormal for the possession of an artifact that summons a single and very horny feminine half-succubus that couldn't hurt any of its "boys" even if it wanted to... Then again, sometimes there happens to be some occasional demigod trapped in a random obsidian that wants to end the world and bring about the Apocalypse. Sometimes. It happened at least a few times.

Sometimes there's no adversary at all and the highly mystical staff summons a single carrot.

50/50 on the danger scale. Roughly.

At least the Canterlot Castle never runs out of carrots now... but don't tell the carrot farmers that one... or Chef Rumare. The carrots are probably not organic, and she would be mad. You do not want a mad cook.

”A single rib, coming right up.”

The bone slid on the ground, almost touching Aiden's hoof before stopping just short. Cause you know... the barrier was still magical and acted on things as such. So it would happen, he had something to throw too, just in case.

”Here. Stash it away so it doesn't get damp.” Aiden threw the rest of his rations across the barrier, Wither swiftly catching them all.

”What? Why? We just ate.” He said matter-of-factly.

”I know. But I'm an earth pony using magicks while being no mage. The smirk Aiden displayed was tremendous.

”Make yourself comfortable, because it's going to take quite a while.”

᠍

=============⬡=============

...

”How about now?”

Aiden had to admit, either the demon he chose to help was really good or the stallion was the most pony pony he could meet out here.

Provided, anyone could get rather impatient on his second day without-

”Asking every half an hour will not make it any faster,” He answered from the middle of his runic circle. He just hoped a triple shielded septagram would do. Otherwise he would have to get reinforcements and that would be embarrassing. Andddd... he would lose another bet. So, no. 'Aint happening.

”I know that,” Wither said. ”But I don't have any way to know how close you are, now do I?”

He had him there.

He just hoped that-

Suddenly the barrier covering the entrance to the cave shattered like a dropped wine glass into a million tiny shards, it's magic essence dispelling into the surrounding air uselessly. Wither looked on in wonder until he felt something tickling his coat. Looking down, he saw the cursed amulet glowing weakly for a bit just before it started to crumble away into dust, carried away with an invisible wind only to disappear and disintegrate completely after a meter or so.

Just like that, Witherfront was free.

He could feel the wind on his face again. He smelled the coniferous trees of the forest, he saw a squirr-

”Well, I'm still alive. So I guess that means my gamble paid off.” Whether Aiden wanted it or not, it was time to become Agent Eight again. ”Come on now. We have quite a way ahead of us.”

”Wait a minute,” Wither did not understand and the other stallion was only getting further away. ”Not that I'm not grateful for the rescue, but I'm kind of banished if you don't remember.”

”Oh, no worries,” Agent Eight answered. ”We're going to a place where the word of Count Trottingham means diddly squat.”

”Well...” A decision was made. ”Count me in then.”

...

”Does this happen often to you?”

”Does what happen often to me?”

”The... demon thing,” Wither inquired. ”If you were serious about that, it must have happened at least once, right?”

”...Classified.”

”All right, all right.” Wither knew when to throw in the towel as he rose his hooves in defeat. ”Keep your secre-”

”But more often than you would think.” Though before his temporary companion had any chance to ponder the statement, Aiden continued talking. ”Before we go too far though... if we trot off course a bit, there's a stream an hour or so from here. And believe me.” He was legitimately entertained for the first time in a few days.

”Where we're going... you better be clean... -ish.”

”...Word.”

Author's Note

MONGOLIAN FREE VARIATION SELECTOR THREE

᠍

'Aight. So, I had an idea for a fic one sunny day, as I often tend to do.

Halfway across writing the first chapter I realized something and asked myself - "Wait... isn't what I wrote basically a slightly altered pony version of SCP Foundation from the eyes of a common soldier? ... eh, too late now, I'm invested. I'll make it work somehow."

Thus here we are.

After all, the first step to writing a great sonata is to steal it from another composer.

And before anyone asks about the translation of the drink name, yes. In this universe it's Poneapple. Deal with it ...I'm not apologizing.

Also yes, the page stop or whatever those are called is a rough shape of the current chapter's focus... I tried. Formatting is weird and BBcode is hard, I ain't a cowputer guy.

And it's going to change every chapter with a different artifact because I decreed so. I just hope unicode has enough symbols for my dumb ass.

The first and second chapters are done. Third is about 70% done and I'm starting the fourth one. I think I found my niche though, which is nice. I get to be both edgy and sometimes funny, while making something that interest me.

On the bad side, Grammarly turned their model to pure profit and they suck big cock now. You want monies, fine my dudes. Just warn us the normal users first, you blood sucking witches.

...

...

Also, yes. Heck is capitalized.

Guess why.