The Tome of Exalted Ponies

The Heaven's Ladder stylist insists on eating his soup with a ladder rather than a spoon. Somehow, this works.

…

The next morning, as the armed guards came into the bunkhouse ringing brass bells to wake everyone up at the crack of dawn, Speaker decided that he needed more information. Using a simple little charm, he was able to see the demons that paced the perimeter of the bunkhouses. None of them were walking close to the bunkhouses… which was good – though another aspect of the charm he had used meant that he would touch or bump into immaterial spirits and demons, so he had walk carefully when passing through the demon cordon, even more so to avoid looking suspicious.

“Keep up old pony!” one of the guards shouted, cracking a whip over Speaker.

As they were being marched to the mine entrances, Speaker overheard the more senior slaves explain how things worked to the new arrivals: Apparently that bushel thing about food was very true… but it wasn’t something you were rewarded for individually. The way Speaker understood it, then if there were one hundred slaves, then they had to bring out six hundred bushels of iron ore. If only half that were made, then only the first half of the ponies who got to the food stations would be fed. It was a collective punishment, with the slowest and weakest suffering the most.

Considering the poor condition of just the ponies in his bunkhouse, Speaker had to wonder how the place was able to remain profitable while wearing out and starving its slaves so much. The slaves bought had to be quite cheap for that kind of attrition to make sense.

Speaker also saw that the demons weren’t going into the mine – neither did the guards – but then again, you had to come out to get food and water… still, it meant that he could speak freely with the slaves inside the mine.

This of course turned out to be rather difficult – everyone was working hard, or squabbling over who got to work on the best veins, to pay attention to some bearded fool of a newcomer trying to address them.

Annoyed with the lack of attention – for Speaker didn’t know the charms that Sunrise or Cash had learned long ago to command such – Speaker chose to use his charms to observe the mine first: He quickly saw the flow of ore veins in the earth essence, and through that spotted where huge sections of ore vein had been missed. Second later Speaker charged that section of mining gallery wall, striking it with not a crafting charm, but one of martial intent.

In the first age solars had struck down the demonic palaces of the primordials, and so with his
pillar-breaking blow, he brought down all of the rock and the iron ore before him.

All the slaves in the mine heard the rumble, and all those near Speaker rushed in to dig out anyone caught in what they thought had been another cave in. What they found was Speaker standing on a giant pile of iron ore, enough to carry the food quota for all of them for weeks. Of course, Speaker was also glowing with a golden light, as he addressed them: “Listen to me ponies. I can free you all, if you let me help you. I can heal you of your hurts and diseases if you accept my guidance. I can see your cruel masters punished if you rally behind me – and I will see you returned to your homes if you follow me”

Many of the ponies in earshot bowed before Speaker, signalling their submission or consent – it was difficult to tell – but some stood uncertain, and one of those spoke up. The mare looked haggard and worn, her pelt scuffed and her hooves chipped: “Who are you? Hell, what are you? They have demons out there that eat you!”

Speaker nodded at the mare: “I am Bright Machine Speaker. The immaculates would call me an evil pony, but they would also call anyone who tries to free slaves owned by realm nobles evil – and they would call you fools for aspiring to freedom. That is who I am: I am a pony with powers granted to by the gods, and demons are no hindrance for me. I can shatter them as easily as I struck down this wall”

It had been a bit of a gamble – but Speaker had hoped that appealing to the mare’s likely wish for freedom, and pointing out how immaculate scripture said that slaves should simply submit to their unicorn lords and pray that they reincarnated into a better life in their next incarnation, would make her think less about him being what they would likely call solar anathema.

The mare looked to the ponies around her. Most seemed game, looking to Speaker eagerly. She still seemed hesitant. Jumping down from his pile of iron ore, Speaker spoke to her directly: “If you fear for your spirit, know that I will not ask any of you to pray to anything you don’t already worship. I came here to free the five-palm tribe, but now I will free all of you. I do this with no reward in mind other than knowing that it had to be done”

“What is your plan then? The ore you have found here, it’ll mean we won’t have to work in here other than haul this stuff out” the mare asked, still sounding apprehensive, but she was nodding along.

Relieved that he didn’t have to deal with any hostile holdouts for the time being, Speaker asked that word be spread. He said he would find more ore so that there would be enough for all the slaves – and he would dig out more of the gallery to make room for everyone: “Once we can gather everyone up, I’ll use my powers to teach you all to fight – not to fight the demons, I will handle those things, but so that you can match the guards outside. This will take time, but if we do this properly then we should be ready to rebel and take back the island in a few weeks”

The mare shook her head at Speaker – but she had already seen him do one impossible thing… so why not a couple others?

It was thus that word quietly spread throughout the tunnels of the mine. More and more slaves came to the mining gallery, while others went outside to fetch baskets so that the iron ore could be hauled out. The entire quota was met a fair bit before noon, all of the slaves cheering at Speaker once the basket-haulers came back from the outside to call for everyone else to put their tools down.

In the now vastly expanded gallery, it having been excavated into the form of a large underground amphitheatre, Speaker addressed the slaves. Of the very few ponies who weren’t convinced by the sudden appearance of a huge theatre inside the mine, or by the ore quota having already been reached, Speaker convinced the last few doubters by seeking out the most ill and injured slaves and instantly healing them before everyone’s eyes. Curing the lame and even regrowing the lost teeth of a pony who appeared to have been badly beaten in the mouth earlier, Speaker turned to the final pony of the three slaves with the worst health among the lot. This slave in particular appeared to have some very ugly infections in his eyes that was quickly turning him blind and quite sickly – the nature of the infections appearing quite strange to Speaker, for he couldn’t figure out how the slave had ended up like that: “How did this happen?”

“I… I insulted the overseer. I was brought before the unicorn that rules this island, and she… they did… did things to me…” the pony said, breaking into uncontrollable sobs and tears as the memories of the horrors that the poor wretch had been subjected to. Speaker cleared up the stallion’s eyes, washed away the sickness and flushed his system of infection. The crying continued, but quickly turned into tears of joy.

All of the slaves cheered for Speaker, but this last pony had given Speaker an idea: “So if you insult the overseer, you get taken to the pony in charge around here?”

Indeed – but he would only show up in the ore quota wasn’t met, to instruct the guards at the food tents to stop distributing meals. This gave Speaker a fun little idea, allowing him to spend the rest of the day instructing the slaves in basic martial fighting techniques using his educational charms.

The next day all of the slaves filed into the mines once more, and ore was brought out quickly – but the quota was not met… by exactly one bushel. One pony would not get to eat.

Come noon, when all the slaves gathered at the food tents for the thin poi or gruel they were usually served, the overseer Pushed Pencils stood ready with an abacus, counting the bowls of gruel poured out. Speaker had arranged that he would come last, and sure enough Pushed Pencils stood ready after the pony before Speaker had gotten her bowl: “None for you – the quota was not met”

Now, the overseer had expected Speaker to be sad – to be upset – not… smiling? Advancing on him? The overseer quickly cried for the guards to attend him, but with a flurry of martial finesse Speaker had the spears of the guards yanked from them and broken.

“Demons! Do you job! Kill this one!” the overseer howled, stumbling backwards.

Three bloodhounds materialized amidst the slaves, roughly shoving ponies out of their way as they lumbered towards Speaker.

“Demons, have your senses been dulled? Do you not feel it? Do you wish for the release of death that much?” Speaker said calmly, in old realm – the ancient language of gods and demons alike.

The bloodhounds stopped in their tracks. As brutish as they were, then none of them were stupid – and being magical in nature gave them many powers, including a greatly heightened awareness of their surroundings, though having been enslaved to guard slaves had likely made them ignore that sense for quite a while.

The overseer looked ready to piss himself in terror as he saw the bloodhounds start to back away from Speaker: “What… what are you?”

“I want to see your master. Take me to her, you pitiful worm” Speaker said, standing defiantly before the overseer.

Some very weary armed guards escorted Speaker to a mansion a few miles from the iron mines. It was not far from the plantations and… palm groves? Were they farming coconuts? How silly.

At the mansion the guards handed Speaker over to a master of ceremonies and a more well-dressed house guard. Speaker could only smirk as the guards didn’t tell the house guards anything – because now he was their problem.

The house guards and the master of ceremonies considered Speaker’s good mood to simply be defiance and rebelliousness – things to be crushed. To this end the MC ordered Speaker taken to ‘the pole’ out back and whipped twenty times before he was to be brought before the mistress.

Speaker had not expected a whipping – but figured that if he used his least shielding charm, then he would be able to tough out the blows without actually getting more than a few scratches.

At the eponymous pole, around which Speaker saw blackened stains on the coble from many a blood stains, a burly and masked stallion stood ready with a very nasty-looking whip: “Another one? Tie him up so we can get this over with”

Speaker knew well enough that a good master of the whip could strip flesh with every blow – and this stallion had the look of a seasoned torturer. Of course, once the whipping began and Speaker’s shield charm supernaturally toughened his skin like that of the most durable oak, all the solar ended up with were superficial scratches and bruises. Sure, the whipping hurt, but it didn’t really injure him.

The torturer was livid, looking at his whip as if it was the tool which was to blame – Speaker relieved that none of the guards present, nor the torturer, had figured out what he had been doing – but twenty licks of the lash had been given as ordered, even if no blood had been drawn.

Speaker was hauled back to the mansion, where the master of ceremonies at first accused the guards of not having gotten Speaker whipped: “He’s not even bleeding! What is the meaning of this!?”

“I think whoever sold you those whips got you good. Haven’t felt that nice since a whore tickled my jimmies with a feather, and by whore, I of course mean you mother” Speaker said with a wide smirk, staring the well-dressed stallion right in his eyes.

The master of ceremonies tried to remain stone-faced, but sneer did creep over his face: “The mistress will see that defiance taken out of you”

Home guards-ponies escorted Speaker to the third floor of the mansion, to a grand library with an impressively polished stone floor. Aside from the rows and rows of books, Speaker quickly spotted the huge summoning circle carved into the stone floor in the middle of the library. So, this was where they got the demons from…

The master of ceremonies stomped a firm hoof onto the stone floor, the noise ringing out across the quiet library. He then spoke in high realm: “Announcing: A troublesome slave severely in need of discipline”

Right – these realm jokers were often big sticklers of that kind of protocol. Being announced before the lord and whatnot. In Sunhill, Sunrise and Cash had instituted far more sensible and less pompous protocols, often to the great annoyance of visiting nobles. Ponies would greet you in the streets, especially for Speaker when he would go about his business in the hospital, while realm ponies like this… they would probably consider even being seen by commoners, serfs and slaves as some kind of social faux pas or insult.

There was a rustle in the far end of the library, scrolls and books being dropped. A minute or so later a very richly dressed unicorn mare with an off-white coat and matching coloured horn came forth. She bore the telltale signs of pure breeding, that of strong dragonblood, typical of being a realm-born noble: Her eyes were slitted like that of a dragon – plus she had that upper eyelid fold like many ponies from the west and the blessed isle, and Speaker could see bits of her coat around her neck covered with scales. Finally, there was her black mane: It had that unique blessed isle native look – smooth hair that hung flatly down around her head and neck, no curls or greater structure to it. She was a pony of noble birth from the blessed isle without a doubt.

The mare addressed her master of ceremonies, speaking in high realm as her MC had: “What has this one done? He doesn’t look like the usual sand-crawlers you drag up here”

“According to Pushed Pencils he broke three spears and gravely insulted his authority, defying your will in front of everyone” the master of ceremonies stated, reading off a scroll.

Speaker couldn’t help but smirk at the report not mentioning what he had done to the demons – actually, with that in mind, Speaker activated his spirit-sensing/interaction charm, to see if there were any demons hidden in the library. There didn’t appear to, though Speaker did see the oily vapours of perronele demons coming off the unicorn… so she had living armor demons bonded to herself.

The unicorn mare’s white horn flared, as did her eyes, as she closely inspected Speaker: “When did he arrive?”

“He arrived on yesterday’s shipment – according to the captain he was marooned on some random island they passed on the way here” the master of ceremonies noted, checking his scrolls once more.

Speaker recognized a keen intellect behind the eyes of the unicorn, her gaze intense – but he knew that unicorns didn’t have the ability to naturally learn any kind of essence sight. They needed magical equipment for that – essence-sensitive lenses or other such equipment – so whatever she was looking for, it couldn’t possibly reveal that he was a solar.

“What tongues does he speak? If he could explain to the slavers that he was marooned that means he could speak sea-tongue” she stated, turning away from Speaker as if she had lost all interest in him.

“Normally I speak river-tongue, but I am also quite fluent in old-realm, and I was taught high-realm in case of just this kind of encounters – and sea-tongue of course” Speaker replied in high realm, before the MC got a word in edgewise.

Both the unicorn and the MC quickly turned to look at Speaker with shock, who maintained his confident appearance. The unicorn quickly seized Speaker in her floating grip with her essence, her horn ablaze, as she pushed him up against a bookcase: “Who sent you? Are you a spy?”

“If I was a spy, why would I attract this much attention to myself? No, I simply came for your slaves – I don’t like slavery. Release all your slaves and I’ll be on my way” Speaker plainly stated, not sounding concerned at all that the earth-aspected unicorn had him by his neck.

Like the rumbling of great stones, then earth aspected unicorns were known to be slow to anger – but Speaker was in no doubt that he was pushing all kinds of buttons on the dragonblooded mare. He felt her essence tighten around his neck, shards of stone and crystal materializing where her essence condensed – producing a cloud of razor-sharp rock.

“You will still your tongue – or what comes out of your mouth next will be your last words!” she shouted, pressing her razor crystals up to Speaker’s neck… but he wasn’t bleeding?

Speaker knew that cranking up his personal shield charms would reveal him sooner or later – but this was just a fine time as any other: “Speaking as a fellow scholar, then you are welcome to test that assertion – but I doubt you will like the results”

Having spent much of his free-time sparing with his fellow solars back in Sunhill, Speaker had spent a lot of time honing his shield charms – the odd guild assassin, or deathknight, who would sneak in and try to kill them all had also sped things along, to the point that any foe striking at him would see him sheathed in righteousness – the golden shell around him as difficult to punch through as the heaviest of plate armor. The unicorn quickly realized this, dropping Speaker in shock as her normally quite deadly stone razors bounced off Speaker as if they were nothing: “Anathema!”

“Oh please. You’re the one keeping hundreds of ponies slaves, working them to death and ordering them starved when they don’t work hard enough – if there is anyone here who is the personification of evil here, it’s you” Speaker said, advancing on the mare.

Stumbling backwards, the mare looked at Speaker with terror in her eyes. With her horn blazing, she blasted Speaker with her elemental powers, hurling large chunks of instantly-forming stone and sharp crystal at him – but it all just bounced off his shield charm.

“Yield. I didn’t come here to kill you – but I will make sure that you cannot hurt anyone else, if you don’t cooperate” Speaker said as he put one hoof before another, making for a slow but purposeful advance.

“Demons! Protect your mistress!” she cried out, but Speaker had already checked – there had been no dematerialized demons waiting in the shadows in the library.

…he hadn’t counted on the ones that had been hiding within the bookshelves, materializing as they leapt clear of the shelves. The bloodhounds, huge and looming, snarled menacingly at Speaker and swung at him, but as he had demonstrated at the latest battle for Sunhill – and at quite a few other occasions prior to that – then fear was a purely optional thing for him, thanks to the charms he knew to render him fearless. Speaker didn’t miss a beat as he weaved and dodged, moving to deal devastating blows to each – both blows enhanced with special solar charms designed to slaying magical beings such as spirits, demons, gods or… originally… primordials.

The supernaturally thick hides of the bloodhounds did nothing against Speaker’s blows, their very beings disintegrating before his might.

“Even I can hear your perroneles screaming in your ear – they know what’s coming. One is begging for you to banish it back to malfeas, the other is begging you to get up and run away. Which will you choose?”

Back at the iron mine the slaves were finishing their mid-day meal and starting to wonder what happened to Speaker. The explosion from the mansion in the distance caught everyone by surprise.

Seeing the unicorn that ostensibly ruled the island come flying from the explosion at the mansion, her screaming all the way until she ate dirt in the staging area in front of the iron mines, left a lot of ponies – and quite a few demons – a bit confused at what had just happened.

Speaker came bounding after her, his monkey-leap technique lending his hops, skips and jumps supernatural distance and height. He couldn’t quite move as quickly as the unicorn he had beat the crap out of – but he was there before the dust had settled in the crater she had made: “My good ponies – I give you, your mistress, the great and powerful Lady Tourmaline Blossom of the great house Peleps. I do believe she has something to tell us all”

Hauling the bleeding and broken form of the unicorn mare up, that she might behold her slaves and her frightened guards, Speaker held Lady Tourmaline Blossom up for all to see: “Talk, or you get another round you heartless wretch!”

“Ok.. ok…” the unicorn mare croaked, her voice all kinds of messed up – though it was hard to tell if it was from the broken teeth, the fat lips, the messed-up nose, or the blows to her chest. At least she was polite enough to speak in sea-tongue – or perhaps just sufficiently afraid of Speaker’s fury: “All the pony slaves… they’re free – go!”

With a stern gaze, Speaker ‘politely’ suggested that the armed guards who had born witness scatter across the island and spread the good news. Once they were gone, Speaker observed the dematerialized demons around them. They didn’t exactly look happy their mistress was being turned inside out, but they seemed more than clever enough to know that they didn’t have to engage unless explicitly ordered to. Speaker in turn ordered the demons to gather into one spot: “Over there, and reveal yourselves – you know what will happen next”

Shrieks of shock and fear from the slaves rang out all over, as dozens of bloodhounds and a few other demons appeared, clustering around the spot that Speaker had pointed out. They didn’t look happy about being bossed around by a new master, but Speaker knew quite well that there was only one thing that demons truly respected: Power – chiefly spiritual power – and as a solar, especially one had recently refined his essence, then his power was far greater than any of them.

“What are you going to do to them?” one of the slaves asked Speaker, as he watched the demons arrive over the course of an hour.

Drawing a deep breath, Speaker kept his gaze on the demons: “I will do, this”

It was one of three basic bits of sorcery that Speaker had learned at that point – and he had in fact learned this particular spell from Shimmer: The way of banishment of lesser demons. Using his essence to illustrate a circle around the demons, he invoked the ancient Treaty of Limbs, the surrender pact that all of the demon lords who had survived the primordial war and found themselves in eternal captivity had signed. The final part of the spell was the mudra of victory over the primordials, Speaker standing tall on his hind-legs with his forelimbs spread out to the side in a mark of spiritual dominance. The demons all sneered at the display as their forms erupted into emerald-green flame, returned to the accursed demon realm – for the knew that against a powerful solar, banishment was the merciful option.

With only a small garrison of woefully outnumbered guards, taking control of the rest of the island took very little time. At the port two cargo ships were seized for the slaves to sail themselves home. The thoroughly defeated and humiliated Lady Tourmaline Blossom was left with her guards, amidst her servants who had all gathered around their lady’s mansion, desperately trying to fend off any angry slaves that had come to vent their anger before leaving on the ships, and even that they weren’t really capable of.

It took a few days, but once all the slaves had set sail, Speaker standing at the docks with a dirty great smile on his face, the solar breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you quite done yet anathema?” came the voice of a mare behind him.

Turning to look, Speaker saw Lady Tourmaline Blossom. She still looked like shit. Her fat lips and other bruises were long gone, thanks to her own exalted healing factor, but her mane was a mess, and she was clad in rags barely better than what most of the slaves had been dressed in. Oh right, the slaves had looted the mansion for everything of value and made off with all of it on their ships.

“The name is Bright Machine Speaker – you’d do well to remember that”

Blossom spat on the ground before Speaker: “You’ve ruined me, you’ve taken away my slaves, my demons – killing me would be a mercy at this point. You can’t do anything more me”

Shaking his head, Speaker looked at the traces of burn-marks around Blossom’s neck where he had banished the living armor demon that had been bonded to her. The emerald fire had scorched her, which had left her weakened and easy for Speaker to toss around: “Your wealth was built by starving and crushing the souls of others. You will get no sympathy from me. If you want your wealth restored, go summon some demons to work your mines… see how long until they rebel and how gentle they are about that”

She did not appear to like hearing that – but also appeared wise enough to know that she wouldn’t win a fight with Speaker, no matter her hatred of him.

His work done, Speaker summoned essence from the air, the water and the ground, forming it into his magical cloud and flying off.

As he flew back to five-palm island, Speaker quickly caught up with the ship with the five-palm tribe. There were other ponies on board as well, slaves taken from other tribes that lived on islands near where the five-palm ponies had their territory. Landing on the ship, Speaker was greeted warmly.

Enroute to five-palm island, Speaker taught the tribal ponies on the ship basic agricultural and construction techniques. He figured they would be able to better exploit their own islands, and build proper piers for the ship they had taken. Considering that the tribe had previously only had experience with using canoes, then they had to learn to how make the infrastructure needed to support such bigger ships. It was also while teaching these charms that Speaker had an at first strange, but later quite welcome epiphany regarding his education charms – but that was quickly overshadowed as the tribal ponies started talking gods and worship.

What happened was that the few five-palm ponies who knew sea-tongue spoke extensively with Speaker – as did the other tribals – for they had grown to respect his power and wisdom, and wished to know where he had gotten it all from. This ultimately resulted in them starting to discuss whether to start praying to Speaker’s god, to Celestia, instead of whatever native gods they had previous thrown their lot in with. Of course, without their shaman present, then they couldn’t agree on that topic. Of course, they were happy to learn that Shimmer had survived back home, so they figured that such a decision could be made when they returned…

Right – about that… Speaker tried to explain that Shimmer had gain powers not unlike himself, powers bonded to him, meaning that she likely wouldn’t stay: “You’ll need a new shaman – but I’m sure she’ll help set you up with one”

This left the five-leaf ponies in a lot of debate, because being a tribal shaman was no small position of power and responsibility – plus it took many years to be trained up to become one.

Upon arrival at the right island there was much joy, though it was quickly tempered when the five-palm ponies found the graves of their kin. Speaker went looking for Shimmer, wondering where the other lunar had taken her.

The tribals quickly recovered some of their canoes and went about fishing and foraging for food, trying to rebuild their lives and homes, while Speaker scanned the village with essence sight to spot any trail of lunar essence.

It took three days before Shimmer and the other lunar showed up, appearing out the waves one as they walked onto the beach. The tribals were quite frightened, seeing the beast-pony troops that came along with them – typical fright against mutants, a normal reaction – but they also recognized Shimmer.

“Impressive. You work very fast” the elder lunar said, Shimmer remaining silent – though her eyes never left Speaker.

Having spent a while preparing for the encounter – and conferring with Cash Charmer back in Sunhill – Speaker cut to the chase: “Indeed. Now before we continue, I’m going to need to know your name”

“You can call me Grey Fin” the elder lunar said without missing a beat.

His lie-detection charm on, Speaker frowned: “Your real name…”

The elder lunar made a less than pleased expression, remaining silent for a moment. Speaker in turn approached Shimmer: “If he’s not going to play ball, I can at least welcome you back to my circle”

The magical spears of the half-shark beast-ponies sparked as they locked together to block Speaker from getting close to Shimmer. The elder lunar had raised a hoof: “No”

“You can say that – but I am a solar, and she is my lunar mate. You have no right to keep us apart. I have fought a Deathlord to a standstill, and slain more deathknights than I care to count. You want to provoke a fight here? Go ahead, but know that your odds are not good and that I have three other solars at home who will bring down heavenly fury on you, even if you stop me!” Speaker stated, having grown more than a little angry at these pointless games now that he had fulfilled his end of the bargain.

The beast-ponies certainly didn’t look enthused, Speaker’s animal flaring up so that the golden fire of passionate soul burned around him. The elder lunar, to his credit, didn’t flinch: “Her training isn’t finished. You can come and make your offer to her when she’s done”

“I can finish her training – I am a very good teacher. I even let my students talk”

The two kept looking each other in the eyes. This was a pissing match, a contest to see who flinched first. They got right up in each other’s face, not really saying anything to each other, but subtly flexing and trying to psych out the other.

The elder lunar’s features rippled, him shapeshifting in an instant into a massive beast-pony creature that was equal parts squid and pony, but the thrice the size of a pony. His eyes were huge and swirling, almost hypnotic – even his own troops averted their eyes – and all of the tribal ponies ran off screaming.

Speaker stood resolute. He knew the essence patterns of fears, and thus controlled his own fully. In knowing this pattern of fear, he also knew how to project it onto others: “No, now yield”

With but three words spoken plainly, the elder lunar’s tentacles curled up and became wrinkly. The giant monster stumbled backwards, its eyes wide. With a voice that rattled the very souls of all who heard it – all except Speaker – the monster trembled: “Truly… I think I underestimated you”

Having been the one to flinch, the lunar dissolved into moonsilver and shrank back into a normal pony. Speaker just stood still, eyes still locked on the lunar, waiting for a proper answer.

Bowing his head, the elder lunar breathed deeply: “I am known as Sage of the Depth – and ultimately all Shimmer needs to finish her training is her formal introduction to the Silver Pact and for her to receive her tattoos. You can come along for that. If she wants, she’s all yours after that”

With a sharp breath, Shimmer appeared as if she was suddenly about to say something – both Sage and Speaker turning to look at her, but she caught herself and simply smiled widely. Instead of saying anything, she leapt at Speaker, hugging him tightly.

Once they had hugged it out, Speaker was instructed to follow the two, and to gird himself for they were going into the wyld.

Speaker kept apace easily on his magical cloud, Shimmer flying next to him as a seagull, while Sage swam at great speeds down in the water, guiding the two.

To Speaker’s surprise they didn’t have to fly for very many hours before things started to change. The water that the sage swam through became thicker, waves locking into place like stiffening jello. Soon the Sage strode along the ground in his massive beast-pony form, the cobalt-blue glow from his limbs clearly showing the charms he was using essence to gallop so very fast.

In turn, the air became thick and moist, making it difficult to breathe for a brief moment, but then Speaker activated his chaos-repelling pattern, enforcing the reality of creation around him. The air cleared up instantly, and beneath him Sage dropped into fluid water once more, instantly switching to swimming once more.

Looking back, Speaker could only see rainbow clouds obscuring the horizon. There were truly in the wyld…

“Solar, end your stabilizer charm. We are close to the waypoint, your charm would harm it” Sage called out, launching himself out of the water.

Speaker did as request, allowing Sage to land on the ‘solid’ water as he came down.

A moment later they transitioned into a new waypoint in the wyld, a new strange biome where it appeared that they were on an island… but it was all a lie – Speaker could tell: It was made of wyld energies tied together with stolen dream-stuff, gossamer harvested from ponies. To this end it made sense to end his chaos-repelling pattern, for it might terminate whatever strange magic had been used to craft this wyld hideout.

Landing next to the Sage, Speaker breathed deeply and noted that the ambient wyld energies of the places were almost non-existent: “Impressive – do you have a reality engine here to maintain this place?”

The sage chuckled: “No, nothing so advanced – though I have heard of lunars with hideouts deeper in the wyld maintained by first age wonders like that. No, we have some captive changelings we force to maintain the place under pain of iron. Now, welcome to The Western Dam, from which a thousand streams spring, where we hold back the tide”