Ponies, It's your turn to Die
Battle Tactic wakes up with a start, her battle senses kicking in immediately. She struggles to get to her hooves but realizes she is bound to a heavy-looking metal chair. She pushes herself into calm, letting the torrent of panic die down a little before opening her eyes. She was in a dimly lit room with a bunch of ponies she didn’t recognize sitting around her. They were situated in a cylindrical room with large stone bricks on the walls. The musty smell in her muzzle suggested they were underground. The ponies were all unconscious and tied to chairs with uncomfortable-looking blue jumpsuits on, all adorned with numbers. Quickly, she realized that she was also wearing a jumpsuit. Sixteen. Everyone had a chair that seemed as if they were custom-made for the individual. Tactic shifted in discomfort and unease at the feel of the cool stone beneath her flank. Her chair was designed specifically to restrain her, even accommodating her missing foreleg. She tried to recall the memory of when she had lost it, but she just couldn’t get a grasp on it. Her mind was escaping her on unimportant things, snapping back to her current situation as she saw the figures in the room with her beginning to stir.
Battle Tactic’s heart began to explode out of her chest as realization hit. She noticed that if any of them were to get out of their bindings, it would be as easy as dragging a horn over her throat to kill her. She tried to break the bonds holding her with pagasus magic but found that she could not get the miracle to happen. She tried harder with more grit, but still her wings wouldn't obey. Just as she was about to try again, she heard a low male voice.
“Don’t bother, Sixteen. The chairs have magic dampeners on them.”
Battle Tactic looked up to see a grey-furred stallion with braided hair going down one side of his head. There was a look of overwhelming tiredness in his eyes.
“And who do you think you are?” she growled at the figure, her tone demanding respect.
“I don’t plan on telling my name to an impulsive foal,” he replied with an unwavering expression. “Just call me Ten… or don’t talk to me at all.”
Sure enough, the number ten was emblazoned on the blue jumpsuit that he wore. She was about to give the rude fucker a piece of her mind before a shrill scream pierced the air. Tactic saw a prissy-looking mare with and orange coat and a big red bowtie in her mane. She supposed that the warrior types had woken first, but now the weaker ones were waking up. She felt a flash of pride at the notion that she had been the first to open her eyes, but it was quickly squashed by the voice in her head telling her that this was no time for games. A symphony of exclamations, screams, and panicked grunts followed as everypony snapped out of the daze they had been in moments before. Her eyes glided to those she noticed had stayed silent.
The first pony her eyes fell on was number eleven. He was a sleek, black-furred stallion with a ponytail extending out the back of his head and wings that looked as if they had never gone a day without preening. Her eyes continued on until they fell on number fourteen, a beast even for earth ponies with a grey coat and humongous muscles. Finally, there was number eighteen, a coatless mare with a large blindfold-like bandana on her forehead being pushed by a horn. Curiously, both number five, an orange-coated earth pony stallion with a striking resemblance to the mare who had screamed first, and number nineteen, a black-furred pony with a long mane, were giggling. They looked like a pair of foals that didn’t seem to understand the situation they found themselves in.
With a jolt, Battle Tactic realized that she still didn’t know what was going on. Her fighter instincts had set her into a ready mindset, waiting for something to attack her, but nothing had. As far as she knew, this could be some elaborate prank set up by the two giggling forms. She quickly dismissed that idea—why would they tie themselves up? As if in answer to her thoughts, a loud voice boomed from nowhere.
“HELLO PLAYERS, IT SEEMS YOU HAVE ALL COME TO ENJOY MY LITTLE GAME!”
“What is this?” the voice of the hair bow mare exploded. “I know my rights and the princesses won’t let this stand!”
“OHOHO, BUT THE PRINCESSES WON’T DO ANYTHING!” the voice replied with a sneer. “AS FAR AS THEY ARE CONCERNED, YOU’RE DEAD, THE STAR MESMERISING MELODY, ENDED BY AN ASSASSIN!”
Battle Tactic subconsciously noted the name. She decided that she didn’t want anything about herself to be revealed and by extension didn’t want to talk to the voice. How could this… voice… capture so many ponies and play them off as dead without raising suspicions? It doesn’t seem possible; something must be up, but she couldn’t put her hoof on what.
“So, what,” a voice came out calm and collected but also surprisingly loud, “you’re just going to keep us tied to chairs for the rest of time?”
“A FAIR QUESTION, STRIKING STEELE. YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME TO THE POINT OF TODAY’S… GATHERING!” the voice roared. Striking Steele looked as if he was disconcerted with the revelation of his name with his large beige wings trying to flare in retaliation behind him, and Battle Tactic realized that there really was no point in hiding. It changed nothing. Her teeth clenched together tighter as she realized that the voice probably intended for them to hide their names to gather distrust. “AS I SAID, YOU ARE ALL COMPETING IN MY LITTLE GAME, AND IT WOULDN’T BE A VERY FUN GAME IF THERE WAS NO WAY TO WIN.”
“I don’t want to play this game of yours, and quite frankly, I don’t think anypony here wants to either,” the voice of the giant man exploded with even more emphasis on the word game.
“WELL THEN, BRUTE FORCE, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS WIN.” The words sounded sinister to Tactic’s ears as she kept noting things about every pony in the room. Small things like the way the ponies around her fidgeted or how scared they all looked. Everypony in the room was on varying levels of calm and panic. “THE LAST ONE PLAYING WINS, SIMPLE AS PIE!”
“What’s the catch?” Battle Tactic felt mildly alarmed to hear her own voice ring out. She knew the question had to be asked; if they didn’t know what they were up against, they couldn’t succeed. No way in hell was this a game—you don’t fake the deaths of twenty ponies for a game. At that moment, Battle Tactic picks up a foul odor that she cannot put her finger on. The light from a grate in the ceiling dance around the room with a mind of its own. The foul scent was emanating from a viscous dripping sound behind her, and she scrunched her muzzle as the smell filled her snout.
“THAT’S THE FUN OF IT, BATTLE TACTIC. IT’S SO SIMPLE. YOU CAN’T STOP PLAYING THE GAME UNLESS YOU DIE.” Screams of anger and fear reignited the air, the most prominent coming from Mesmerizing Melody. Tactic’s blood had turned to ice; she had been expecting something like this, but she still wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen. It hit her in a flash what the smell was, the metallic tinge of blood and gore.
“OF COURSE, I DON’T EXPECT YOU TO GET UP AND KILL EACH OTHER, THAT’D BE RIDICULOUS,” the voice laughed. “I CREATED THIS DUNGEON JUST FOR YOU PONIES. IT WOULD BE A SHAME TO LET ALL THE TRAPS AND PUZZLES GO TO WASTE!”
“SPEAKING OF PUZZLES, LET ME INTRODUCE YOU TO THE FIRST OF MY CREATIONS!”
Author's Note
This story is being written for a writers challenge and there are a couple rules I have to abide by that I shall list here:
1. Every chapter I role a D20 to decide who will be the main character of that chapter
2. Every chapter after the first I will role a D20 to decide who dies
If you see any mistakes in the story then feel free to comment all feedback is welcome!!!