Marx was out for a walk with Engels throughout the London night. As the couple passed by a lamp two men came from an alley. It was over in a flash as Marx heard the cry of "Für Kaiser!" Before two loud bangs ruptured and thrust through the air. Seeing the flash then the tide of bullets in his stomach caused a bleeding Marx to collapse on the ground. As his eyes began to fade he looked around and saw a bloodied Engels trying to stand slowly. Alas he began to drift off despite his best efforts. The last thing he heard was screams and the cries of passersby
But then his eyes woke up- He was at first relieved to be alive as he looked around the- cabin? Of some sorts he was in? Whatever dwelling it was, it looked most strange, very strange indeed. The sun was gently blessing the day as through the windows it lightened the room. It seemed almost picturesque for a few moments. He wondered where he had ended up, the land beyond the window revealed little information to deuce as he tried to climb out of bed only to fall down.
It was at that very moment he realised he no longer had arms but rather four hooves like that of an equine, even more strangely the coat was of a distinct pastel emanating from beyond. Marx was bewildered as he tried to stand on his hooves and recollect the situation yet he could came to no satisfactory conclusion and worst yet he- or perhaps she realised the form he had somehow took was more certainly not that of a stallion yet rather a mare. Marxs wanted to scream in terror as he began to understand the severity of what was going on. Why- HOW even had he turned into a… horse? A pony? How could this be, he thought.
As he gathered himself and stood properly he gazed around the room. It was strange, like an inn of some sorts. There was a night-stand with some sort of journal written on it. Marx went to read it only to realise he had no hands, just hooves. For a few seconds he just kinda looked at the page not really knowing what to do. He brought his hoof and smacked himself across the face trying to awake from whatever coma induced… weird nightmarish like dream? He had found himself in.
Alas to no avail he was wide awake and a fuming pain on his cheek though in doing so he had felt something else. He looked up and saw, penetrating out from his temple. “Ah oida, ist das nicht praktisch, eine verdammte Hupe?” Ah, now isn’t that convenient, a fucking horn he thought openly. It was then he tried to focus on the book and to his unamused bewilderment the fucking thing moved and a light translucent red glow emanated from his horn.
It was written in the English tongue, that was good enough at least, a language he understood and could read. Perhaps this.. World? Had some parallels to his own he thought. He began to read throughout this journal and found it was much like his own life. This “Caramel Marks” not only sounded phonetically similar but her life seemed similar to his own. Both economists ventured throughout the world, or in Caramel's case “Equestria” and Caramel seemed to be reproducing his own theories. Though, the notes about some sun goddess “alicorn-” whatever that was- and other such immunities raging from the minute to the esoteric were less than helpful and only served to confuse the already poor mindfucked Karl.
He came across mentions this ‘Fire Angel’ “Sounds like Frederich… Could Engels be here? That’d be a relief though not less confusing.” He bemused that this world seemed so like Earth, yet so definitely not either. There was one place however that sounded uniquely inspired, Severyana. It lined up perfectly with his theorists of industrial revolution and seemed ripe for it he thought. An aristocratic boyar led autonomous state within a much larger absolutist- feudal? He thought, monarchy led by a… Omnipresent Goddess that controlled the sun and moon… Ok perhaps not literally everything lined up exactly with his theories but- close enough.
After what must’ve been hours of reading Marks- Or Marxs decided to get up and take a look around outside. As he opened the door which led throughout a corridor he felt a unique sense of nausea throughout him. What the fuck was going on, a sense of fear from being in such a new world. With a deep breath though, he ventured forth, worrisome at what he might meet.
Engels awoke a splitting pain in his head, briefly he thought it was a hangover. Perhaps he had gotten drunk at one of his regular parties he’d forget the night prior. He looked around though, this was for sure not his house. Or hell, not the house of any of his associates he might’ve done to. To the side was a bed, empty though it was, it looked very hastily left as if whoever was there had gone in a hurry.
He sat up in his bed- or whoever's bed this was and tried recalling the night before. He had been a little tipsy perhaps but nothing extravagant he thought. Then he recalled the being accosted by two men and the loud bangs. He remembered stumbling to stand up as he limped over bleeding only to be kicked in the face by the assailants who then ran away and the distinct Berliner accent from the man who had shouted something then Kaiser at him. ‘Ah! It all makes sense’ He quietly exclaimed. ‘I must’ve been shot and induced to unconsciousness. Alas I have woken up, I pray it was not long.’
With a singular motion of his claw he threw the covers off and rolled out of bed. Wait- claw? The fuck? He frantically observed his body sobering up to reality; it resembled that of a mythical griffon! The ruff of fur at his neck ought to be and two magnificent great wings to either side, his nose replaced with a bright yellow beak and even more a tail to his behind but to complete it. Engels coiled back in a mix of fraught fluster. “For Christ-” He frantically darted around the room, seeing nothing of note for him. Beside himself and with little choice he decided to familiarise himself with the house he was in. Opening a wooden door led him to a long yet narrow corridor. He peeked in all the rooms and found it just to be seemingly a normal house without any noticeable differences. Walking into an expansive living room he gazed outside and saw- horses- bright colourful horses- that did not look at all like the horses he knew of just prancing around doing their business like humans.
Engels on occasion saw numerous types of these horses, Those with horns, like unicorns, Those with wings, like Poseidon's Pegasus and those with neither that just looked relatively- and he did mean relatively! Like normal horses. They were colourful and bright most of them seemed cheerful and speaking to each other they also had noticeable tattoo? Or Scar? On their asses, why? Eh, truly it was beyond the befuddled Engels
He stood unsure if it was in disgust or awe at the horses; eventually he snapped out of it and began to look through the cabinets looking for food. Woe be to him though there was nought anything a human would envy. Hay and water seemed to dominate the cabinet like bread and water on earth. He sighed but was hungry and so he grabbed some hay and tore in. It wasn’t that appetising to his human soul nor his griffon body but it went down- somehow. It tasted like.. Well like hay, grass. The water seemed normal, at least that was a relief.
Poor Engels sat at the kitchen table for what must’ve been hours as the afternoon began to settle, having not the slightest idea on what to do. At approximately 1700 or so the door cracked open and Engels turned facing the entrance with a gasp. From the streets came a unicorn pony mare- light salmon in her coat with a fading blue hair. The mare seemed both surprised yet her face portrayed a sense of relief the same.
She trotted timidly over “E-engels?” came the unquestionably feminine and unknown, yet somehow familiar voice. Engels put two and two together and with a relieved sigh nodded “Marx-?” “What the fuck do you think happened?” Marx said as the question lingered quietly in the air for a while. Engels couldn’t come up with anything, this was beyond their wildest dreams and imagination truly it was just...incomprehensible!
Engels shrugged with an exasperated and defeated look upon his face. “I’ve not the slightest Idea. Also, If I may be so bold as to inquire where were you?” He said facing Marx who was setting some things on the counter. “Well, I was observing this world. Fetching supplies we may need and just learning about it, I found the journal of the poor fellow who inhabited this body before me. Her name was Caramel Marks.. She had a companion called Fire Angel, obviously these are parallels to our very souls in the prior world. The pair were travelling and compiling economic theories. Partly like us, no?”
Engels didn’t know if the fact this world was some clearly of theirs was comforting or even more disturbing and he didn’t quite care to dwell on it for long. He nodded in agreement before speaking up “Well, what by heaven are we going to do?” Marx seemed to ponder this question for a moment. “Well, My dear Friend. In this world it appears the capitalist systems do to an extent exist. Yet it is twisted- the country we are in is called… Equestria, yes I think. Led by a… Friend, I must ask you not to call me insane nor an idiot. But from what I've heard. It’s an immortal pony goddess? That like, well she raises the sun and moon? It’s kind of like feudalism but also kind of not? I’m not even going to question that such a thing implies gravity just... isn’t a thing... At the very least the ponies very fervently believe she raises it. I pondered the possibility that she didn’t at a teahouse. I was met with scorns abound, though besides that the people of this land seem quite kind and courteous though their formality could be improved.”
Engels was surprised at the fact he wasn’t all that shocked by the fucking gobbledegook his respected friend had just blurted in front of him. He just sort of blankly nodded while Marx continued unabated. “Right.. So.. I don’t know much about this world, they say the year is 938ALB. Apparently the ALB stands for After Lunar Banishment, Don’t ask me cause I’ve no forsaken idea either. Yet this world is clearly not equivalent to our 938AD! The drumbeat of industry is coming alive, Apparently the poor souls in our current forms were off on some great economic journey and in doing so were replicating our theories as I previously mentioned. Now, where am I going with this? Right so, chum I have an idea. There is a region to the north east of this country, Severyana, it is culturally to me at least much like the Tsarist despotism of Russia, Yet industrial and modern. It is autonomous and poorly, corruptly even! Administered by some boyar council of some sorts. I would argue it is prime revolutionary material with a large industrial basis of labourers. I ponder if the capitalists of this world have, like ours, sown the seeds of their own destruction.”
Throughout Marxs spiel Engels sat there, He was paying some attention to his friend but he couldn’t get his mind off the fact they had fucking travelled to another.. Another SOMETHING, It boggled his mind he simply could not comprehend reality. He was shocked how Marx seemingly was just fine to go along with it and try agitate for a revolution when they had no idea what this world was like! But then again, Engels knew that was Marx, always a revolutionary first and foremost. Throughout it all he had to stifle a laugh. The duo were deep in foreign world and Marx already went off plotting agitation and revolution. When Marx concluded his spiel with a “...What do you think?” Engels couldn’t help but chuckle and turn his attention to him again. “Well old friend, It’s not like we have much of a choice. Who knows, perhaps It’ll be easier to agitate here than in England.”
