Adventureby ISKVChaptersTwelve Hours to NothingRifle, Caliber 5.56mm, M16The Sky TitanTwelve Hours to NothingA yellow coated earth pony groaned as she lifted her head off of her lumpy pillow. Her room was painted a pleasant light green with matching curtains. Everything from the pictures to her bedsheets had flowers on them in some form or another. On the windowsill, a single flowerpot sat quietly as a ray of light shines brightly on her face. Marigold shook her head, sending her short bright red mane flying outwards as she stretched her whole body. "Good morning sun!" the earth pony cheerfully yelled as she steps out of bed. "Thank you for the life that- Aaah!" She screamed loudly when her flower came into view. The pony's eyes dampened as she slowly maked her way towards the flowerpot. The marigold that was once planted in the pot had transformed into a crunchy brown pile, almost indistinguishable from the dirt it was planted in. The earth pony shook her head in disbelief. "Oh no... My Su... MY SUNLIGHT DAWN! Oh Celestia Why!? Why!? WHY!? I'M SUCH A FAILUUURE!" Marigold sobbed as she gently lifted up the remains of her flower. It had been taken care of for longer than she remembered. She had planted countless flowers before, but this one was close enough to her that she had actually named it. It didn't help that her self-proclaimed reputation would be ruined if word got out that one of her plants had died. Sobbing, Marigold lifted up the pot and made her way downstairs. *** If anypony had been looking, it would've been quite the peculiar sight. A pony dressed in a black, complete with a veil burying a clump of dirt in her small backyard. Small clusters of grass dotted the empty patch of land. Though her specialty was in gardening, she could never make a lawn work. However, she always wanted a flower garden. If only she could ever find the money for it. Technically it was against community regulations, but she had yet to meet the lowly-paid officer that would go through hours of red tape for something as trivial as an imperfect backyard, something that would never happen in the richer areas of Canterlot. The poorer district was cleverly hidden away on the western side of the city while the areas where the sunrise or sunset could be seen were prime locations for the rich lords to build their massive mansions. However, this meant that her house would receive a substantial amount of sunlight, more than enough to grow a garden. Marigold silently wiped her eyes in defeat. "Sunlight Dawn..." she sadly sighed as the pony fondly remembered her flower and its unfortunate short life. "You were the best flower I ever had the pleasure of growing. I-I remember when you were just a teensy little seed. And-And when you sprouted, you... you... you were so cute! And-And when your bud..." The pony dropped her head as she let herself loose. Loud sobbing sounded as tears dripped from Marigold's eyes. By now she didn't care that her neighbors could hear, for all that mattered to her was her friend that ascended before she should've. *** Marigold sighed as she stared at the steaming cup of tea. The shock of finding her flower dead had scarred her harder than she had realized. She took a small sip of the green liquid. Along with its fresh taste, it soothed her nerves and calmed her heart. Her entire house was silent, even her clock had stopped ticking. Outside, a few leaves crackled as a gust of wind blew them along the street. The pony slowly turned her head until her eyes were looking out the window. Nothing. A cliche it might've been, but it was too quiet. The sun was up, yet the street in front of her house was empty. Nopony, not even the group of little foals that usually played around were present. The only time Canterlot could be considered calm was before the sun rose above the horizon. Marigold drowned the rest of her tea and quietly made her way to the door. The hinges squeaked slightly as she revealed the outside world. In front of her house, a bakery that made its reputation by selling doughnuts stood empty, the usual scent of chocolate and the bustle of patrons trying to squeeze in a quick meal missing from the street. None of the houses or stores seemed to be abandoned, simply empty, as if all of the ponies had left for work. Marigold looked up, and ran back into her house in panic. The sun was high in the sky and it didn't matter if there were no ponies about, for her job at the local flower shop still existed. The pony emerged with a key strung into a necklace and galloped away. Marigold remembered that she had an order for a few dozen corsages, and while no other florist could match her, even she would be working hard late in the day. *** While her obsession with flowers kept her friend number low, there were few ponies in Equestria could match her skill. If she wanted to, Marigold could've gone to any florist and have gotten the job. Unfortunately, Canterlot florists consisted of lines of workers assembling flowers to meet the demands of the ponies who both hosted and attended parties almost every other day. She couldn't take the machine-like workings and had run out crying. But to her luck, she had met Bloomer. Bloomer was an older mare who had a small flower shop on the market street. Business hadn't been good, but after a walk in the park, she saw a yellow and red mare weave a flower wreath like nothing she had ever seen. Marigold was behind the counter withing the hour. It was only a short distance away to the main marketplace of Canterlot. After peeking past the corner, Marigold nervously trotted out of an alleyway. Around her, merchant wagons and stalls quietly sat on the sides of the wide street without their owners. A few minutes later, she reached the floral shop. Bloomer's Buds Oddly, it was closed. Unlike the stores around it, the door was locked and the display was empty, but Marigold still happily sighed at the familiar sight. As she walked towards the shop, she wondered if Bloomer had some unforeseen emergency or business. Regardless, the pony recalled her words on opening the shop. The glass door is to be open at all times and the windows should be wiped clean inside and out before starting for the day. Bloomer's voice echoed clearly in her mind. Unlocking said door, Marigold jammed a wooden doorstop and gave it a hard kick for good measure. The inside of the shop was dark, but she kept the lights off to signal that they were not yet open. The pony filled a bucket with window wash and water from the sink off to the side, blue bubbles spilling over as she hefted the bucket and a rag outside. The task seemed to take forever. Inside her mind, Marigold knew that if it was quiet enough to hear the window squeaking every time a rag passed over it, something was wrong. But what would anypony else do... She though hard, but came up with no answer. Refill the buckets up to the- A scream echoed down the street. Inside, Marigold cried out in horror as she turned on the lights to discover the flower equivalent of a graveyard. Dry, brown pedals littered the floor as dead and wilted stems drooped from buckets. Her legs grew weak as she leaned on a stand and slowly slid down in disbelief. *** The distraught pony slowly walked through Canterlot, head low and eyes wet. With the store was locked up and a sign put out in front that apologized for an unexpected closure, Marigold had buried the flowers next to her own marigold. Another funeral took place for the second time. Her tears left a noticeable trail wherever she walked, more than once she found herself stepping on damp cobblestones. The flowers were her life. Her friends. Her responsibility. And she had failed that. Even a pegasus with their fast and impatient ways would have to expend effort to allow an entire shop's worth of flowers to die. With her eyes glued to the ground, Marigold eventually found herself at the entrance of the central park. But just the thought of her relaxing at her usual spot lifted her spirits somewhat. She closed her eyes, sighed, and stepped past the white marble fence. What she saw made her blood run cold. The trees were lifeless, their leaves fluttered off to who knows where. Marigold's eye twitched as she stared. The pony started to turn, but stopped when she noticed that the grass underneath her was a crunchy brown. Even the lake in the center was completely dry, cracks running down the dusty soil. Marigold raised her head and screamed towards the heavens. "WHAT GOD HAVE I WRONGED?" *** Canterlot burned. An extremely infuriated mare was currently carrying out a one pony rampage across the capital. For the last few days, she had managed to demolish an entire city block, toppled a few guard towers, and had set fire to the Equestrian Revenue Service building. Her rage had eventually led her to Canterlot Palace, which the mare was currently trying to gain entrance. A loud war cry sounded as an adrenaline-fueled florist charged the tall gates while pushing a cart as a makeshift battering ram. The heavy gates jumped as a heavy-duty steel wagon smashed into the reinforced wood. The pony backed up for another run. Finally after another few hundred hits, the locking mechanism fell with a resounding crash and Marigold threw away the battered cart. The pony came out of her madness as she stood in awe in the middle of main hallway. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, glittering a dim orange from the light of burning tax forms through the open gate. Various tapestries hung on the walls, some centuries old. Each told a story, some spoke of unmatched heroics, others commemorated great events. At the end was an awe-inspiring stairway. Chiseled from a solid chunk of marble, it separated into two thinner stairs that ascended in the opposite directions. On it was the most extravagant red carpet with intricate designs sewn in the border with gold thread. Walking with muffled hoofsteps, she climbed higher into the palace. She could always burn it down later. *** For the first time since this madness had started, Marigold was calm at last. She was probably one of the few ponies that never seen the inside of Canterlot Palace with her own eyes, even when she lived mere minutes away. Although it was somewhat customary to make the pilgrimage, Marigold was never one of the hundreds that visited every year. As she climbed the long winding staircase, the earth pony silently wished that she had made the decision earlier. The florist had begun her exploration from the highest astronomy tower. Overlooking the burning capital, the florist felt no guilt over destroying a good quarter of the city, and was in fact proud of her accomplishment. A telescope provided the pony with more details, but was otherwise useless in the bright daylight. Marigold climbed down to the dungeons. After swiping a ring of keys from a hook on the wall, the stone prisons were open to her amusement. Door after door were opened, most were empty, but some contained curious objects. Reaching the end of a hallway, she unlocked and pulled open a solid steel door to find the darkest secret in the palace. Inside was a rack where prisoners could be strapped in and "interrogated." Hanging from the walls were vicious-looking "persuasion tools" that specified what kind of pony they were to be used on. Everything from the black rings with thin chains welded onto them that forcibly controlled the flow of magic to the bloody feather yanking pliers to be used on pegasi. The florist slowly closed the door and tried to erase the image out of her mind. After sampling a few raspberry pastries from the kitchens, the sleepy pony settled herself in one of the guest suites. The delicate scent of flowers had lured her into the the large feather bed. Sinking into the mattress until she could be barely seen, it made her feel like she was floating on the most delicate of bubbles while the sheets were washed with the exact same brand of detergent that she used for her own laundry. The window was wide open, letting in the most comfortable breeze. Marigold's last thoughts before succumbing was wondering whether she was supposed to be the guest of honor. *** She floated in a dark void. She had no physical body, nor could she feel, pain, pleasure, or otherwise. But if she had to describe the void with a single word it would be... comfort. It was not the darkness of a freezing, alien forest at night, but the warm embrace of a blanket on a chilly fall day. Hello. "Wha- Who's there?" She recognized her own voice, yet was stunned by its pitch, tone, and volume as if she had never heard it before. I... am. "Yes... you are?" I am. I exist. In the void, that is all that matters, and all that will be. But to answer your question, I am the spirit that once occupied a body you called, Celestia. "P-Princess Celestia?!" Instinctively, Marigold tried to bow, but found herself unable to locate the source of the voice, or even her spine for that matter. Do not trouble yourself with such physical ranks. In the void we are equals. We are one spirit talking to another. We- "WAIT!" the florist yelled. "Am... Does this mean that I'm... dead?" A wave of pleasant feelings washed over her. It took her a second to realize that the being was laughing angelically. No. In fact, you are the only one that is "still around." "...Why? Why me? And why..." Marigold thought hard, but could not remember the day before she woke up alone. "What happened?" A sigh, and another wave passed through her, only this time it felt much more depressing. I... I do not know. I do not know why all the ponies are gone. Nor do I know why the plants are dead. I am just as clueless as you. "Then... why am I the only one still around?" My guess? Luck. Pure, undiluted, luck. "Great. I'm lucky." the florist spat. Do not lessen your worth Marigold, for a single pony can change everything. "How?" A small pinprick of light floated towards her. It stopped when it was close enough for her to closely examine. It was a translucent blue flower with red veins that ran down to the bottom of its cut stem. It had an overall rose-like appearance, but its petals were longer and wavier. The whole flower appeared much more fragile-looking due to its similarities to glass. This is a Celestite Flower. While it does not have any powers of its own, it can concentrate magic for use in powerful spells. Celestia has poured the last of her magic into the flowers and their seeds to allow you to travel back in time twelve hours before whatever event happened that caused the world to be in such a state, Time spells are very difficult, even for a being like her. "So I go back in time to find out what happened?" Simply put, yes. But be warned Marigold. Things do not always go as planned, especially when changing the flow of fate. "Oh, no... Does this have anything to do with that 'For Want of a Nail' rhyme?" Somehow, Marigold could feel the being widening her eyes in curiosity. I am surprised that you would remember something so obscure. "It's just something that stuck with me when I was still in school." But that rhyme is only too correct. The most insignificant detail may lead to a completely different future. For you to keep track of all of these details is too much to ask. But, do be careful. "Okay. So what happens if I..." she paused nervously, "fail?" No. Not "if." You WILL fail. That is a guarantee. But do not fret. I will supply you with a number of Celestite Flowers, and the ones you do not pick will shrivel up and create more seeds for you to use. However they will eventually run out, but even I do not know when exactly. And to help you further, Celestia has left another tool. When you wake up, you will be back in your own bed, but on your desk shall be a pair of infinity saddlebags. These bags will stay constant, by that I mean anything placed inside will stay with you through time. "Huh. Sounds useful." And it is. Another constant will be your own home. No matter what happens, the inside will not change. "So if I made a mess searching for something to use to save somepony's life..." Then that mess shall be present until it is cleaned up. However, if you bring a pony in your home, that pony will disappear when the apocalypse happens. That cannot be changed. "So my house won't change, but no bringing ponies along for the ride. Got it." ...I do not have much time. I must finish explaining so please forgive me if I rush. Should you fail, you will first speak with me, then you will wake up in your house after the disaster. However depending on the circumstances, your surrounding will change. If the world ended because of a bomb, the crater will still be present. If a plague has passed by, corpses will line the streets. You can use this to your advantage for finding clues should the need arise. After you are finished exploring, you may return to noon by smelling the scent of the Celestite Flower and letting your mind sleep. If you are too injured to live, I shall extract your body and soul back to the void. A copy of your physical body will be left as not to arouse suspicion, and you will begin again in your bed after the apocalypse has occurred. "Wow... I have it made don't I?" Celestia has only made sure that whoever had the job of changing the future was as prepared as possible. Nevertheless, your task will still be daunting. "You talk like Princess Celestia is a different pony." Because Celestia was the name of the alicorn in the physical world. As a spirit, I have no name, nor is there any need for one. "Can I still call you Princess Celestia?" If you wish so. But the "Princess" is unnecessary. There was a long pause as Marigold let everything they had talked about sink in. "...Why?" Why what? "Why are you helping me?" I may be a spirit, but I do care. If it was any other time, I would have left the world as it was. However, Celestia has prepared well, and has given you a sliver of hope. As long as there is one way to avoid this disaster, I shall assist you to the best of my abilities. "You're still Celestia at heart huh?" Yes. Now, any other questions? "Yeah, where can I get a bed like the one I slept in?" Have you noticed that everything seemed to be tailored to your preferences? Marigold nodded, or at least tried to. But either way, it got the point across. It was. Its only reason for existence was to lure anypony left alive. The pastries were laced with sleeping potion and the bed was enchanted to change its scent and softness depending on the pony who slept in it. From there the pony would've met and talked with me, preparing them to change the future and avoid the apocalypse. "And I fell for it." It was for the good of all. "Just curious, if I refuse...?" The being was silent, but Marigold gasped when a familiar yellow flower appeared next to the Celestite seed. Its stem and leaves were green and healthy, and the petals never seemed so vibrant. "SUNLIGHT DAWN!" The apocalypse has happened. What you see here is but a reconstruction of the flower you care so dearly. Should you choose to leave the world as-is, you will simply exist. Never able to meet your friends again. Never able to taste the fresh nectar of a blooming flower. You are living the bad ending in a barren world but you have a chance to make it all right. If you wish so, you may return to that ending. "...No" Then will you proceed as an agent of history? Marigold whimpered, "...Alright" she whispered, "I'll do it." Then good luck. And remember- Of all the endless possibilities that fade into darkness, there is but one razor-thin path of light. Find it. *** A yellow coated earth pony groaned as she lifted her head off of her lumpy pillow. Her room was painted a pleasant light green with matching curtains. Everything from the pictures to her bedsheets had flowers on them in some form or another. Marigold shook her head, sending her short bright red mane flying outwards as she stretched her whole body. She sighed, wondering if everything was just a dream. But the brown saddlebags sitting on her desk and the smell of burning tax forms said otherwise. Outside, the evidence of her rampage was impossible to ignore. The castle gates were still wide open, and she could just make out the marble staircase. Her eyes start tearing up at the empty windowsill. The only thing left of her flower was a perfect circle in the dust where the pot once sat. Marigold hardened her emotions. There would be time to grieve later. Without another thought, she raced downstairs and slowly pushed open the back door. Her breath was taken away by the sight. A sea of crystalline blue flowers flowed in the wind, her barren backyard almost overgrown with Celestite Flowers. The earth pony slowly reached out and plucked one out of the ground. Its translucent petals didn't glitter under the sun like a cut and polished diamond, rather it added an iridescent sheen to whatever was visible through it. From the center were the long and thin stamen, each tipped with a small crystal no larger than a single ball of birdshot. Marigold experimentally shook the flower. It rang as if thousands of sleigh bells were shaken at once. Tiny pinpricks of light floated out. After a few moments, she realized that she had shaken out the pollen. The florist stared as they disappeared. She sighed. It was now or never. A chance to see her beloved flower once more. Marigold held the Celestite Flower up to her nose and inhaled. It smelled like... nothing. The flower exploded in a bright, blinding flash of blue light. A small maelstrom of sparkles circled the panicked mare, slowly increasing its speed until it was nothing more than a blur. It split into two rings, one floating above her head, and the other almost touching the ground. Marigold gasped, and the circles of light crashed together, leaving nothing but a yard full of blue flowers on a background of burning buildings. Author's Note Inspired by- Radiant Historia Groundhog Day (Movie) Doctor Who I will repeat this at the end of each chapter. The only way this adventure will be expanded in any way is through your own imagination. Should you wish to expand an adventure, send me a PM telling me which one you chose. The answer will most likely be yes. Rifle, Caliber 5.56mm, M16A shirt fell to the floor as a blue haired woman stared down the barrel of an M16A2. HER M16A2, considering that he didn't even pay for it. Mounted under the barrel was a bayonet, although she had installed it for show, it was still very, very real. The man behind the gun wore a matte black uniform, his abdomen protected by the heavy vest he wore. His face was covered with a balaclava with only his eyes showing. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. How does such a beautiful woman become a gunrunner?" She stood in the middle of a room, only wearing skimpy blue underwear with small stars that were only visible if examined close up. The florescent lights illuminated her shapely body that many a model would die for. At first glance, she would've appeared as a normal woman, albeit an extremely attractive one. But with her clothes on the floor, the most notable aspect of her was the blue crescent moon with a magic wand crossed over it tattooed on both cheeks of her rear. *** It was unusual for a stunning woman to appear in the middle of Angola, more unusual was the fact that she came alone. But all of that paled against her real purpose when she offered her services to the leader. No, not those services you dirty perv. She came selling weapons. Her first deal was simple. Get four hundred Kalashnikovs with ammunition and deliver them in two weeks time. Exactly two weeks later she stood outside of his house with a mountain of crates. AKMs from the factory in Ukraine, hundreds of thousands of 7.62x39mm ammunition, and finished with a load of fresh magazines. She was paid on the spot with a handful of rough diamonds. A month later she was in Somalia, selling BTR-60PBs to a local warlord. Impressed, she was paid in full. Joke was on him though, he didn't pay for gas. Mozambique, PK machine guns with new belts. She even sold in the streets of Tokyo. Due to the multitude of gun laws, a single firearm sold for many times its original value. Dictators shook hands with her, various policing agencies followed her. Or at least, tried to. She had this odd ability to simply disappear. Once, Chinese special forces stormed an inconspicuous house near the Gobi desert. She been observed using this house for many months, often entering with crates of guns. They found nothing but a confused old man and his eight year old grandson. SWAT teams fared no better with hideouts on the US-Mexico border, although they did find a half-kilo of cocaine once. Around the world, she was known only as Blue Witch. But to her, she was Trixie. Yes, the very same showmare that wandered into Ponyville was now selling tools of war to various entities. She did get over her distrust of wheels however. The year was 1986, and her pockets were heavy. But her story didn't start in Angola. In fact, her very first sale was a shipment of rifles to the Red Army in August 1918. Indeed, Trixie had created quite a history. But all the time with French resistance fighters after the Nazi occupation, the Jewish fighters during the Israeli War of Independence, to the Mujahideen of Afganistan, there was another who worked with her. And she was always watching. *** Although she couldn't see his face, she knew that he was actively drooling. His eyes traveled all the way from her pretty face to her petite toes. Of course her ample breasts got the majority of his stares. She peeked towards the mirror behind him. The large window was right behind her, but it showed nothing in the darkness. Trixie held up two fingers behind her back. "Now..." he motioned towards her bra, "Remove... Take it off." Rolling her eyes, she slowly reached behind her back and unclasped the fasteners. More and more was revealed, and the man's eyes got wider. But the second his gun drooped, she dove down. A millisecond later, a .30 caliber bullet ripped through his chest, piercing straight through his body armor. A shower of glass fell around the now broken window as the air went quiet once more. Trixie pulled and clipped the bra back on. She went over to the broken window and pulled the drapes closed. The woman picked up the assault rifle. Drop magazine, clear the chamber. It was one of the first lessons she learned from a Texan rancher when he heard that she had never fired a gun before. The drop of the 30 round STANAG magazine was muffled by the expensive thick carpet that was now dyed with blood from the dead man. She caught the flying 5.56 round before it hit the ground, something that she liked to practice and show off in her spare time. As she reloaded the round in the magazine, a black van pulled up in front of the house. Blacked-out windows, black paint, even the license plate had black duct tape on it. After Trixie pulled on her signature blue cape and hat, she snapped the M16 case shut and hung it from her shoulder. Outside, the wind blew a chilly October wind across her face, blowing her clothes like a flag. In the driver's window, a faint glow of a cigarette illuminated the face of her long time friend. "Trixie is pleased to see you again Gil-" "Hey! Whatdd I say bout' my name!?" The woman breathed deeply, the small ember glowing brighter every time she took a breath. "To not to." The seemed to calm her down. "Bingo. Now let's get the fuck outta here. We gotta new order. I think this guy wants to fight a war." Tires not screeching, the pair drove off to the local airport. *** 500 Remmington 870 shotguns, 400,000 shells, 00 buckshot. 850 AK-74s, 800,000 rounds, 7000 magazines. Mix of hollow point and armor piercing. 100 M2HB heavy machine guns, 500,000 rounds, armor piercing incendiary, anti-aircraft mounts. 15 RPG-7s, 500 HEAT rockets. Make sure that they aren't any crap Chinese guns inside. Deliver to Airfield 7221, Sinai Peninsula, Egypt. N30°48'18" E33°54'39" D - L. O. C. PS: No radio. Land at will. We'll keep traffic clear. In the skies above the eastern Mediterranean, a white-haired woman checked the navigation maps once more to ensure that they were on the right course. She had a very prominent purple eye shadow around her gold eyes. The same tint of purple also tipped her spiky hair that stuck out in front. Her battered leather jacket also held a holster for her favorite M1911 on the inside. To her left was an original M1903 Springfield rifle that she had taken a liking to. It was the very same gun that shot the man who was stupid enough to think that Trixie was helpless. The plane shook as it flew through another cloud causing the rifle to topple and hit her head with an empty konk. After a particularly hard landing in Syria, Gilda started calling the custom-made transport plane "Suchka." It was hard on the controls, engine two always found some creative way to conk out at the worst moment, and it guzzled fuel like a pregnant mother on cravings. But luckily for them, it got the job done. Suchka was the result of taking stolen Pratt & Whitney PW2000 engines from an US Air Force base and joining them with a C-5 Galaxy airframe salvaged from a boneyard. Spare parts from a number of planes, both military and civilian completed the Frankenstein creation. After a few years of fine-tuning the engines for every ounce of thrust and troubleshooting countless problems with a two hundred man team, the plane was finished. Paperwork had been forged, call signs created, and the plane made its maiden voyage. And oh holy god she could haul. They once had to deliver two armored personnel carriers by parachute, both stocked with weapons and full of gas. If they wanted to, they probably could carry a light tank or two, but they usually left vehicles to ships and trains. Surrounded by the delivery of guns, Trixie attempted to sleep in the small bunk in the back, but was kept awake by Gilda who sat in the pilot's seat blasting an upbeat rock song. To add insult to injury, she was singing along with her rough voice. "It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no..." "It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no..." "It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no..." "It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no..." Due to her life on both sides of the Iron Curtain, the griffon-turned-human had developed the most unique taste in music. From the west came ZZ Top and Creedence Clearwater Revival. From the east came the Red Army Choir. It had taken Trixie months before she finally got used to hearing guitar riffs one moment, then turning a complete 180 degrees to the booming and powerful bass voices of Russian men. It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no no no... Trixie sighed as the song finally faded away to nothing. She closed her eyes and started to drift off, but was interrupted by a faint drumming. A few voices added to the melody. Then out of nowhere, the entire choir joined in, leading to a catchy yet powerful beat that inspired the spirits of the people. "Trixie... needs... HER SLEEP!" she screamed over the voices and drums. Gilda didn't reply, and the woman sleeping under the blue cape could clearly hear the pilot humming along with the melody. She groaned. This was her daily life aboard Suchka, one that she should've gotten used to a while ago, but didn't. Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie spotted the assault rifle that hadn't been sold. She picked it up, almost dropping it when a particularly loud trumpet blast sounded as another Soviet war song came on. The M16A2 was as basic as it could get. No fancy sights, rails, or other accessories and the stock wasn't adjustable or folding. Trixie shouldered the weapon. The light polymers might've been ridiculed on the field, but to the medium-small woman, it felt perfect. Sure she had kept an old StG-44 handy, but the M16 was the gun she had been looking for. Gilda on the other hand, preferred larger weapons. She refused to use any weapon that was weaker than a .44 magnum, but had given into carrying a simple M1911 when an exchange went bad. Contrary to what people might think, she was actually a slow-and-steady type, a trait that was reflected by her choice in the bolt-action Springfield. Somebody said it's wrong but I know it's all right, "Somebody said it's wrong but I know it's all right," then it really hits you like a shot in the-. "then it really hits you like a shot in the ni- What the...?" The music suddenly cut off as a burst of radio chatter sounded from the radio. Trixie raced to the front and sat down in the co-pilot's chair. "What is it?" she asked. "Ssh." Gilda listened closely. The voices kept getting interrupted by static, but if her experience said anything correct, there were Israelis on the other end. "Yeah. That's definitely Hebrew." "What are they saying?" There was no answer as the pilot listened intensely. Hebrew was not one of her best languages, but she knew enough words to limp through a conversation. Through panicked yelling, Gilda tried to figure out what was going on. Something about... airspace... intruder... MiG-21? "They're talkin' about some airspace breach or somethin'. Don't worry bout' it," Gilda leaned back, "it aint' us." More chatter came through. "Actually... Crap. Whatever it is, it's headin' our way!" Various beeps sounded as a screen blinked to life. "Missile lock! Comin' in from the east!" *** Trixie leaned back in defeat. While the original flare and chaff dispensers were still in place, they had never been replaced or loaded for years. Trying to maneuver such a large and unwieldy aircraft would've been useless, the parachutes were somewhere behind a large crate full of 5.45mm ammunition, and to make matters even worse, the Israelis had not responded. A small tink could be heard as a single .357 round was loaded into a revolver. Gilda closed her eyes. Nodding to her partner, she got up and walked to the back. She pulled back the hammer and put the gun to her head. Trixie jumped at the sound of a gun going off. Tears dropped from her eyes as she realized that she was now completely alone. *** The missile flew closer and closer, while the Israelis had labeled the intruder as a technical glitch, as no other radar had detected it. Regardless, a pair of F-4 Phantom IIs were scrambled just in case. *** Trixie's head shot up as Gilda stomped back into the cockpit. Her eyes followed the woman as she sat back down in her chair. "...What are you doing here?" She mentally facepalmed at the phrase said without a thought. Gilda turned her head, the scowl and her annoyed attitude clearly seen. "I missed." A second later, the Soviet-made missile hit the transport plane. The pilot of the MiG-21 lit a cigar. Pink smoke filled his plane as the smell of chocolate wafted from the rolled leaves and paper. He growled. "Tia owes me big time, sending me on her errands..." The pilot glanced towards the picture. His face softened as he gazed towards his alicorn fiancé. They had promised to marry after the war, and he was not one for breaking promises. *** Gunfire. She had heard the sound of automatic weapons go off enough times that she could name the weapon being used. The heavy but muffled hammering was definitely the M2s. She sighed. If heaven was filled with guns, she was happy. "Trixie...?" Trixie was not happy anymore. She saw her M16 laying unloaded on the table next to the bed. When she reached for it, she pulled it next to her and cuddled it as if it was a lover. "Trixie! Please wake up!" Twilight begged. Behind her was the rainbow pegasus, attitude unchanged. "Why do we need her again? She's just going to-" "Rainbow. She an' the griffin' saved our hides' with those weapons. The spears are nice, but what they brought could turn this war right side' up." Oh yes, the apple farmer. Trixie's mouth started watering at the thought of her apples. The apples that grow on her trees, to be clear. "Tch. Gilda's probably-" "Whatever you think she's gonna' do, Ah'll bet it's because you started it." "Hey!" "Girls!" Twilight yelled. She turned towards the showmare-turned-gunrunner. "Trixie, you aren't asleep. Disc-" She was interrupted by a griffin that flew in with an assault rifle slung from his shoulder. "Colonel! We got Airships comin' in from the west! Illusion-Class!" Twilight nodded, "Get the fast flyers to intercept, test out the new RPGs. Make sure that they don't come within two miles of this camp!" "Yes sir!" Col. Sparkle turned to Trixie, who's eyes were wide and was now tightly hugging her M16 for comfort. "Anyways, Discord was the one who ordered the guns and brought you and Gilda to our world. We can't thank you enough and we'll pay you whatever you ask after the war ends." Wait... "What war?" Author's Note Inspired by- Lord of War My own fascination with guns. (I'll admit right now, the only reason that I wrote this story was to see how accurately I could write about technical details. If anyone has a lot of knowledge of firearms, please check to see if I got anything wrong.) Various genres of music Music list- Fortunate Son Polyushko Polye - Unnamed There March the Soldiers - Unnamed Can't Stop Rockin' I will repeat this at the end of each chapter. The only way this adventure will be expanded in any way is through your own imagination. Should you wish to expand an adventure, send me a PM telling me which one you chose. The answer will most likely be yes. The Sky TitanIt had been a many a millennium since the Fall of Harmony. With the princesses lost, and the Equestrian Alliance broken, the three tribes fought a long and bitter war for dominance. The events that let up to the bloody Chaos Resistance were lost to time. The Lord of Chaos may have been blamed for rivalries and hate, but this time, he was no more than an innocent bystander. For a full century, the War of Three stretched out, thousands dying each day. Eventually, the conflict spread throughout the entire planet. All the creatures from the forgotten Changlings to the mightiest of dragons took part in this war, fueled by century-old feuds and ancient alliances. But eventually the fighting petered out, combatants and morale growing low. During this time, a forest known as the Everfree grew, feasting on the raw magic and biological matter that fell into its maw, never to be seen again. It expanded into an empire of its own, its mysterious properties stretching from the Forgotten Wastelands an ocean away to the sunken and underwater city of Marelantis frozen in the north. But when the war ended, they found a world unlike the one they had left. The wildlife grew, the clouds floated, and the sun and the moon rose and set. Initially, they celebrated the return of their princesses, but soon realized that there were gone, along with any semblance of unity. Centuries passed, and the world continued changing. In the center of the grasslands was Cygnus, a city born as a small mercenary outpost. Naturally, as it was visited by various species, there were no such thing as prejudice. Ancient rivalries were washed away by the simple need to survive. Daily, weddings bells rung to signify the union of two, most of the time not even of the same species. Even the architecture of the city itself was a mishmash of different cultures all coming together in one. It stretched hundreds of miles in all directions, surrounded by a wall that was a mile high and thick enough that an entire fort could fit inside. That was no exaggeration, they were built so well that not even the Behemoth could hope to trespass into the city. Right inside the walls were the farmlands, hundreds of thousands of acres filled with various types of grain all blew in the wind, ready to be harvested. Closer to the center was the market. Everything from Zebracan shamans advertising their services with the spirits to the minotaurs who sold freshly mined minerals in bulk. It was guaranteed that even in the darkest hours of the night, one could buy what they were searching for. Behind the bustling market was the more quiet residential areas, filled with homes small and cozy to the largest of mansions with hundreds of servants constantly working around the clock. And in the center was the castle which sat on a massive platform that could repel any amount of land invaders. Tall stone arches and pillars held up the structure. Probably the most interesting fact about the castle was the fact that every room inside was illuminated by natural sunlight. It was said to have been carved straight out of a mountain, as the tip of the highest observatory reached high above the clouds. But a simple exploration to the deepest and most ancient bowels revealed a startling truth. The land that the castle was standing on was once an expanse of completely flat land. Through decades of construction and millions of bricks, a one room shack had evolved into the center of civilization. In the sea was Aquarius, a jewel among the many shipwrecks that littered the area surrounding the city. It was supported by eight enormous ancient pillars that held the city right above sea level. The city extended from the palace that stood high in the center to the base of the pillars deep under the ocean. The highest of towers held the beacon, a ball of fire that burned for eternity. It could be seen for miles, attracting every kind of creature and promising freedom and safety within its borders. It too, eventually grew into a magnificent and beautiful city. In fact, it had even more of a species variance than Cygnus. But what if I told you that Cygnus, Aquarius, and even the mysterious properties of the Everfree was ancient history? By now, the mere concept of Alicorns were so long gone that they were reduced to dust, not even appearing in the oldest of myths. But he still remembered. He remembered when the world was young. He remembered the bright flash as Queen Galaxia molded the cosmos out of sheer willpower. He remembered the days when there were no days, for there was no sun. He remembered the first sunrise and how awestruck he was at its beauty. He couldn't believe how an insignificant orb of basic elements floating in the vast expanse could make something so stunning, then remembered how much love and care went into creating every speck of dust. He remembered her daughters, especially the one who cried in his arms when their mother passed on. He remembered his own banishment into stone. He remembered... He remembered... He remembered... At the deepest trench of the Winter Sea, a statue of a draconequus silently pleaded for escape, not even the harsh burning of the strong acid capable of melting away his prison. The once glorious city of Cygnus was no more than a circle of flat land, covered with the remains of a petrified forest, its once lush plant life now brown and hard. The city's enormous awe-inspiring arches were once large enough that even a fully-grown dragon would have to raise his head. Now, they existed as no more than mountains of gravel. Aquarius dropped into the sea when the waters around it eventually turned to acid as the stone pillars grew weaker and weaker til they could take no more. Only the airborne who lived above the clouds survived, eating a tasteless but filling fruit that grew on clouds. Pegasi, griffons, their cousins the hippogriffs, and all the birds of the air existed above the clouds. They simply lived, ignorant of what was happening below their homes. By now, the entire planet was covered with a thick blanket of dark smog, ensuring that they were free to fly and land where they wished. Over the centuries, a pegasus only known as The Mother unified the scattered species into the very first Aerial Empire. Her eyes were as strong as her will. It is said that she had been able to tame the violent griffons with a voice not unlike a mother scolding her child. She stood taller than any of them, equal in height to the alicorns of the old, but without the horn, for she was still just a pegasus. Her wings were massive, almost twice the wingspan of a regular griffon. Her brilliant orange coat shone like the sunrise while her violet hair was dark enough that the night sky seemed bright. Her creation was massive. Spanning the sky, there was no place completely inaccessible save for the occasional superstorm that blew the clouds into a frenzy. Their capital was near the equator, where the air was hot and the clouds were heavy. A simple one room house stood on a hill made of clouds. It overlooked the city, but was not where one would expect a ruler to reside in. The Mother simply called it her home, but to the inhabitants of the Aerial Empire, it was a place of worship, a place where pilgrimages took place every year. And it was on this day, right after sunrise, that The Mother decided to take a simple walk. "Good morning Mother!" An unknown said from around. "And a good morning to you!" she replied cheerfully. Around her, the sleepy marketplace was beginning to wake up, merchants opened shops and stalls, but her mere presence turned heads and sent whispers. She didn't notice, or at least, chose not to. The Mother yawned, then shook the sleep out of her head. She was never a morning pony, but enjoyed walking through the morning mist still fresh in the air. Soon, she was at the park. It was filled with statues made from clouds. Although The Mother had quietly protested, her figure dotted the area more than the others combined. High above her head, a small griffon fledgling jumped off of a cloud. A faint buzzing turned her own head. She was momentarily confused by the sound, until the fledgling fell next to her and landed in the cloud with a poof. She giggled as he tried to pull his stuck head out of the cloud. The Mother gently bit his tail and pulled. The clouds released his head with a loud, almost comical pop. "Are you alright?" The fledgling spat out some cloud that he had swallowed. He nodded, but shrunk away eyes wide when he noticed who she was. He tried to talk, but his words stuck in his throat. "I-I... than... k... you..." he stuttered, trying to hide his embarrassed face. She only smiled. "You're welcome." The Mother looked up at the cloud that he had fell from. "Is that your cloud?" The griffon nodded. "I'm-I'm try... trying to fly." Trying to fly... She remembered that she herself was once a very weak flyer, only able to soar in the sky much later than the other foals. The Mother looked at the sky. "Where are your parents?" The fledgling looked away, trying to avoid her eyes. "Away." he replied simply. The large pegasus smiled. She had time after all. "How would you like it if I," she paused, "taught you how to fly?" He gasped, his little eyes going wide at the thought of being taught by The Mother herself. She was instantly jealous of his childish enthusiasm at something she considered trivial. She had mellowed out considerably during the ages, her own personality changing from a tomboyish ball of energy to a more regal and calm figurehead. "Really?" he asked, not believing his ears. "Really." she promised. *** "Now remember, there's a lot more to flying than simply buzzing your wings. You got that?" "Yes ma'am!" he yelled, completing with a cute little salute. The Mother laughed, returning with a salute of her own. The sun had gone far enough in the western sky that it had turned a bright orange, the exact same color of her coat. "Now, can you fly to your cloud by yourself?" He nodded, and the pegasus stepped back to give him room. He flapped his wings. Not with speed, but with control. The small fledgling had made strides with his skill. He no longer fell, but was still shaky when taking off, something that could only be improved with practice. The griffon slowly took to the air, almost falling a few times, but righting himself into stability. A few minutes of effort felt like hours, the second his claws touched the surface of the cloud, he exploded in cheers. The Mother also let loose a few whoops of her own. He waved, savoring the moment. Shaking from the excitement, he curled up and attempted to sleep. She was proud as if he was her own child. His parents should be proud too. Taking a deep breath, she spread open her own magnificent wings. They extended with a graceful flourish as her feathers caught the air under them like a blanket. She jumped, going from the cloud to miles into the air within the blink of an eye. The Mother closed her eyes, feeling the cold, refreshing air of the high altitude sky. The pegasus felt the slight dampness seep through her coat as she soared through the wispy, delicate clouds. She sighed. Deep in her heart, she wished that she could see her old friend and idol once again. She was the reason that The Mother decided to start flying in the first place! But it was not to be. Her friend was dead long ago, as was the world she was born in. This was it. This was the end of the road. The adventure. The life. Nothing would change now. She opened her eyes. Just then, a single line lit up brightly as a star shot across the dark night sky. The Mother gasped, and closed her eyes tightly as she thought of her one want in the entire world. I wish Rainbow Dash could see me now... Author's Note Inspired by- Pretty much every fantasy setting. My only excuse is that I wanted to do some world building. And because I have a fetish for big castles. I will repeat this at the end of each chapter. The only way this adventure will be expanded in any way is through your own imagination. Should you wish to expand an adventure, send me a PM telling me which one you chose. The answer will most likely be yes.
Twelve Hours to NothingA yellow coated earth pony groaned as she lifted her head off of her lumpy pillow. Her room was painted a pleasant light green with matching curtains. Everything from the pictures to her bedsheets had flowers on them in some form or another. On the windowsill, a single flowerpot sat quietly as a ray of light shines brightly on her face. Marigold shook her head, sending her short bright red mane flying outwards as she stretched her whole body. "Good morning sun!" the earth pony cheerfully yelled as she steps out of bed. "Thank you for the life that- Aaah!" She screamed loudly when her flower came into view. The pony's eyes dampened as she slowly maked her way towards the flowerpot. The marigold that was once planted in the pot had transformed into a crunchy brown pile, almost indistinguishable from the dirt it was planted in. The earth pony shook her head in disbelief. "Oh no... My Su... MY SUNLIGHT DAWN! Oh Celestia Why!? Why!? WHY!? I'M SUCH A FAILUUURE!" Marigold sobbed as she gently lifted up the remains of her flower. It had been taken care of for longer than she remembered. She had planted countless flowers before, but this one was close enough to her that she had actually named it. It didn't help that her self-proclaimed reputation would be ruined if word got out that one of her plants had died. Sobbing, Marigold lifted up the pot and made her way downstairs. *** If anypony had been looking, it would've been quite the peculiar sight. A pony dressed in a black, complete with a veil burying a clump of dirt in her small backyard. Small clusters of grass dotted the empty patch of land. Though her specialty was in gardening, she could never make a lawn work. However, she always wanted a flower garden. If only she could ever find the money for it. Technically it was against community regulations, but she had yet to meet the lowly-paid officer that would go through hours of red tape for something as trivial as an imperfect backyard, something that would never happen in the richer areas of Canterlot. The poorer district was cleverly hidden away on the western side of the city while the areas where the sunrise or sunset could be seen were prime locations for the rich lords to build their massive mansions. However, this meant that her house would receive a substantial amount of sunlight, more than enough to grow a garden. Marigold silently wiped her eyes in defeat. "Sunlight Dawn..." she sadly sighed as the pony fondly remembered her flower and its unfortunate short life. "You were the best flower I ever had the pleasure of growing. I-I remember when you were just a teensy little seed. And-And when you sprouted, you... you... you were so cute! And-And when your bud..." The pony dropped her head as she let herself loose. Loud sobbing sounded as tears dripped from Marigold's eyes. By now she didn't care that her neighbors could hear, for all that mattered to her was her friend that ascended before she should've. *** Marigold sighed as she stared at the steaming cup of tea. The shock of finding her flower dead had scarred her harder than she had realized. She took a small sip of the green liquid. Along with its fresh taste, it soothed her nerves and calmed her heart. Her entire house was silent, even her clock had stopped ticking. Outside, a few leaves crackled as a gust of wind blew them along the street. The pony slowly turned her head until her eyes were looking out the window. Nothing. A cliche it might've been, but it was too quiet. The sun was up, yet the street in front of her house was empty. Nopony, not even the group of little foals that usually played around were present. The only time Canterlot could be considered calm was before the sun rose above the horizon. Marigold drowned the rest of her tea and quietly made her way to the door. The hinges squeaked slightly as she revealed the outside world. In front of her house, a bakery that made its reputation by selling doughnuts stood empty, the usual scent of chocolate and the bustle of patrons trying to squeeze in a quick meal missing from the street. None of the houses or stores seemed to be abandoned, simply empty, as if all of the ponies had left for work. Marigold looked up, and ran back into her house in panic. The sun was high in the sky and it didn't matter if there were no ponies about, for her job at the local flower shop still existed. The pony emerged with a key strung into a necklace and galloped away. Marigold remembered that she had an order for a few dozen corsages, and while no other florist could match her, even she would be working hard late in the day. *** While her obsession with flowers kept her friend number low, there were few ponies in Equestria could match her skill. If she wanted to, Marigold could've gone to any florist and have gotten the job. Unfortunately, Canterlot florists consisted of lines of workers assembling flowers to meet the demands of the ponies who both hosted and attended parties almost every other day. She couldn't take the machine-like workings and had run out crying. But to her luck, she had met Bloomer. Bloomer was an older mare who had a small flower shop on the market street. Business hadn't been good, but after a walk in the park, she saw a yellow and red mare weave a flower wreath like nothing she had ever seen. Marigold was behind the counter withing the hour. It was only a short distance away to the main marketplace of Canterlot. After peeking past the corner, Marigold nervously trotted out of an alleyway. Around her, merchant wagons and stalls quietly sat on the sides of the wide street without their owners. A few minutes later, she reached the floral shop. Bloomer's Buds Oddly, it was closed. Unlike the stores around it, the door was locked and the display was empty, but Marigold still happily sighed at the familiar sight. As she walked towards the shop, she wondered if Bloomer had some unforeseen emergency or business. Regardless, the pony recalled her words on opening the shop. The glass door is to be open at all times and the windows should be wiped clean inside and out before starting for the day. Bloomer's voice echoed clearly in her mind. Unlocking said door, Marigold jammed a wooden doorstop and gave it a hard kick for good measure. The inside of the shop was dark, but she kept the lights off to signal that they were not yet open. The pony filled a bucket with window wash and water from the sink off to the side, blue bubbles spilling over as she hefted the bucket and a rag outside. The task seemed to take forever. Inside her mind, Marigold knew that if it was quiet enough to hear the window squeaking every time a rag passed over it, something was wrong. But what would anypony else do... She though hard, but came up with no answer. Refill the buckets up to the- A scream echoed down the street. Inside, Marigold cried out in horror as she turned on the lights to discover the flower equivalent of a graveyard. Dry, brown pedals littered the floor as dead and wilted stems drooped from buckets. Her legs grew weak as she leaned on a stand and slowly slid down in disbelief. *** The distraught pony slowly walked through Canterlot, head low and eyes wet. With the store was locked up and a sign put out in front that apologized for an unexpected closure, Marigold had buried the flowers next to her own marigold. Another funeral took place for the second time. Her tears left a noticeable trail wherever she walked, more than once she found herself stepping on damp cobblestones. The flowers were her life. Her friends. Her responsibility. And she had failed that. Even a pegasus with their fast and impatient ways would have to expend effort to allow an entire shop's worth of flowers to die. With her eyes glued to the ground, Marigold eventually found herself at the entrance of the central park. But just the thought of her relaxing at her usual spot lifted her spirits somewhat. She closed her eyes, sighed, and stepped past the white marble fence. What she saw made her blood run cold. The trees were lifeless, their leaves fluttered off to who knows where. Marigold's eye twitched as she stared. The pony started to turn, but stopped when she noticed that the grass underneath her was a crunchy brown. Even the lake in the center was completely dry, cracks running down the dusty soil. Marigold raised her head and screamed towards the heavens. "WHAT GOD HAVE I WRONGED?" *** Canterlot burned. An extremely infuriated mare was currently carrying out a one pony rampage across the capital. For the last few days, she had managed to demolish an entire city block, toppled a few guard towers, and had set fire to the Equestrian Revenue Service building. Her rage had eventually led her to Canterlot Palace, which the mare was currently trying to gain entrance. A loud war cry sounded as an adrenaline-fueled florist charged the tall gates while pushing a cart as a makeshift battering ram. The heavy gates jumped as a heavy-duty steel wagon smashed into the reinforced wood. The pony backed up for another run. Finally after another few hundred hits, the locking mechanism fell with a resounding crash and Marigold threw away the battered cart. The pony came out of her madness as she stood in awe in the middle of main hallway. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, glittering a dim orange from the light of burning tax forms through the open gate. Various tapestries hung on the walls, some centuries old. Each told a story, some spoke of unmatched heroics, others commemorated great events. At the end was an awe-inspiring stairway. Chiseled from a solid chunk of marble, it separated into two thinner stairs that ascended in the opposite directions. On it was the most extravagant red carpet with intricate designs sewn in the border with gold thread. Walking with muffled hoofsteps, she climbed higher into the palace. She could always burn it down later. *** For the first time since this madness had started, Marigold was calm at last. She was probably one of the few ponies that never seen the inside of Canterlot Palace with her own eyes, even when she lived mere minutes away. Although it was somewhat customary to make the pilgrimage, Marigold was never one of the hundreds that visited every year. As she climbed the long winding staircase, the earth pony silently wished that she had made the decision earlier. The florist had begun her exploration from the highest astronomy tower. Overlooking the burning capital, the florist felt no guilt over destroying a good quarter of the city, and was in fact proud of her accomplishment. A telescope provided the pony with more details, but was otherwise useless in the bright daylight. Marigold climbed down to the dungeons. After swiping a ring of keys from a hook on the wall, the stone prisons were open to her amusement. Door after door were opened, most were empty, but some contained curious objects. Reaching the end of a hallway, she unlocked and pulled open a solid steel door to find the darkest secret in the palace. Inside was a rack where prisoners could be strapped in and "interrogated." Hanging from the walls were vicious-looking "persuasion tools" that specified what kind of pony they were to be used on. Everything from the black rings with thin chains welded onto them that forcibly controlled the flow of magic to the bloody feather yanking pliers to be used on pegasi. The florist slowly closed the door and tried to erase the image out of her mind. After sampling a few raspberry pastries from the kitchens, the sleepy pony settled herself in one of the guest suites. The delicate scent of flowers had lured her into the the large feather bed. Sinking into the mattress until she could be barely seen, it made her feel like she was floating on the most delicate of bubbles while the sheets were washed with the exact same brand of detergent that she used for her own laundry. The window was wide open, letting in the most comfortable breeze. Marigold's last thoughts before succumbing was wondering whether she was supposed to be the guest of honor. *** She floated in a dark void. She had no physical body, nor could she feel, pain, pleasure, or otherwise. But if she had to describe the void with a single word it would be... comfort. It was not the darkness of a freezing, alien forest at night, but the warm embrace of a blanket on a chilly fall day. Hello. "Wha- Who's there?" She recognized her own voice, yet was stunned by its pitch, tone, and volume as if she had never heard it before. I... am. "Yes... you are?" I am. I exist. In the void, that is all that matters, and all that will be. But to answer your question, I am the spirit that once occupied a body you called, Celestia. "P-Princess Celestia?!" Instinctively, Marigold tried to bow, but found herself unable to locate the source of the voice, or even her spine for that matter. Do not trouble yourself with such physical ranks. In the void we are equals. We are one spirit talking to another. We- "WAIT!" the florist yelled. "Am... Does this mean that I'm... dead?" A wave of pleasant feelings washed over her. It took her a second to realize that the being was laughing angelically. No. In fact, you are the only one that is "still around." "...Why? Why me? And why..." Marigold thought hard, but could not remember the day before she woke up alone. "What happened?" A sigh, and another wave passed through her, only this time it felt much more depressing. I... I do not know. I do not know why all the ponies are gone. Nor do I know why the plants are dead. I am just as clueless as you. "Then... why am I the only one still around?" My guess? Luck. Pure, undiluted, luck. "Great. I'm lucky." the florist spat. Do not lessen your worth Marigold, for a single pony can change everything. "How?" A small pinprick of light floated towards her. It stopped when it was close enough for her to closely examine. It was a translucent blue flower with red veins that ran down to the bottom of its cut stem. It had an overall rose-like appearance, but its petals were longer and wavier. The whole flower appeared much more fragile-looking due to its similarities to glass. This is a Celestite Flower. While it does not have any powers of its own, it can concentrate magic for use in powerful spells. Celestia has poured the last of her magic into the flowers and their seeds to allow you to travel back in time twelve hours before whatever event happened that caused the world to be in such a state, Time spells are very difficult, even for a being like her. "So I go back in time to find out what happened?" Simply put, yes. But be warned Marigold. Things do not always go as planned, especially when changing the flow of fate. "Oh, no... Does this have anything to do with that 'For Want of a Nail' rhyme?" Somehow, Marigold could feel the being widening her eyes in curiosity. I am surprised that you would remember something so obscure. "It's just something that stuck with me when I was still in school." But that rhyme is only too correct. The most insignificant detail may lead to a completely different future. For you to keep track of all of these details is too much to ask. But, do be careful. "Okay. So what happens if I..." she paused nervously, "fail?" No. Not "if." You WILL fail. That is a guarantee. But do not fret. I will supply you with a number of Celestite Flowers, and the ones you do not pick will shrivel up and create more seeds for you to use. However they will eventually run out, but even I do not know when exactly. And to help you further, Celestia has left another tool. When you wake up, you will be back in your own bed, but on your desk shall be a pair of infinity saddlebags. These bags will stay constant, by that I mean anything placed inside will stay with you through time. "Huh. Sounds useful." And it is. Another constant will be your own home. No matter what happens, the inside will not change. "So if I made a mess searching for something to use to save somepony's life..." Then that mess shall be present until it is cleaned up. However, if you bring a pony in your home, that pony will disappear when the apocalypse happens. That cannot be changed. "So my house won't change, but no bringing ponies along for the ride. Got it." ...I do not have much time. I must finish explaining so please forgive me if I rush. Should you fail, you will first speak with me, then you will wake up in your house after the disaster. However depending on the circumstances, your surrounding will change. If the world ended because of a bomb, the crater will still be present. If a plague has passed by, corpses will line the streets. You can use this to your advantage for finding clues should the need arise. After you are finished exploring, you may return to noon by smelling the scent of the Celestite Flower and letting your mind sleep. If you are too injured to live, I shall extract your body and soul back to the void. A copy of your physical body will be left as not to arouse suspicion, and you will begin again in your bed after the apocalypse has occurred. "Wow... I have it made don't I?" Celestia has only made sure that whoever had the job of changing the future was as prepared as possible. Nevertheless, your task will still be daunting. "You talk like Princess Celestia is a different pony." Because Celestia was the name of the alicorn in the physical world. As a spirit, I have no name, nor is there any need for one. "Can I still call you Princess Celestia?" If you wish so. But the "Princess" is unnecessary. There was a long pause as Marigold let everything they had talked about sink in. "...Why?" Why what? "Why are you helping me?" I may be a spirit, but I do care. If it was any other time, I would have left the world as it was. However, Celestia has prepared well, and has given you a sliver of hope. As long as there is one way to avoid this disaster, I shall assist you to the best of my abilities. "You're still Celestia at heart huh?" Yes. Now, any other questions? "Yeah, where can I get a bed like the one I slept in?" Have you noticed that everything seemed to be tailored to your preferences? Marigold nodded, or at least tried to. But either way, it got the point across. It was. Its only reason for existence was to lure anypony left alive. The pastries were laced with sleeping potion and the bed was enchanted to change its scent and softness depending on the pony who slept in it. From there the pony would've met and talked with me, preparing them to change the future and avoid the apocalypse. "And I fell for it." It was for the good of all. "Just curious, if I refuse...?" The being was silent, but Marigold gasped when a familiar yellow flower appeared next to the Celestite seed. Its stem and leaves were green and healthy, and the petals never seemed so vibrant. "SUNLIGHT DAWN!" The apocalypse has happened. What you see here is but a reconstruction of the flower you care so dearly. Should you choose to leave the world as-is, you will simply exist. Never able to meet your friends again. Never able to taste the fresh nectar of a blooming flower. You are living the bad ending in a barren world but you have a chance to make it all right. If you wish so, you may return to that ending. "...No" Then will you proceed as an agent of history? Marigold whimpered, "...Alright" she whispered, "I'll do it." Then good luck. And remember- Of all the endless possibilities that fade into darkness, there is but one razor-thin path of light. Find it. *** A yellow coated earth pony groaned as she lifted her head off of her lumpy pillow. Her room was painted a pleasant light green with matching curtains. Everything from the pictures to her bedsheets had flowers on them in some form or another. Marigold shook her head, sending her short bright red mane flying outwards as she stretched her whole body. She sighed, wondering if everything was just a dream. But the brown saddlebags sitting on her desk and the smell of burning tax forms said otherwise. Outside, the evidence of her rampage was impossible to ignore. The castle gates were still wide open, and she could just make out the marble staircase. Her eyes start tearing up at the empty windowsill. The only thing left of her flower was a perfect circle in the dust where the pot once sat. Marigold hardened her emotions. There would be time to grieve later. Without another thought, she raced downstairs and slowly pushed open the back door. Her breath was taken away by the sight. A sea of crystalline blue flowers flowed in the wind, her barren backyard almost overgrown with Celestite Flowers. The earth pony slowly reached out and plucked one out of the ground. Its translucent petals didn't glitter under the sun like a cut and polished diamond, rather it added an iridescent sheen to whatever was visible through it. From the center were the long and thin stamen, each tipped with a small crystal no larger than a single ball of birdshot. Marigold experimentally shook the flower. It rang as if thousands of sleigh bells were shaken at once. Tiny pinpricks of light floated out. After a few moments, she realized that she had shaken out the pollen. The florist stared as they disappeared. She sighed. It was now or never. A chance to see her beloved flower once more. Marigold held the Celestite Flower up to her nose and inhaled. It smelled like... nothing. The flower exploded in a bright, blinding flash of blue light. A small maelstrom of sparkles circled the panicked mare, slowly increasing its speed until it was nothing more than a blur. It split into two rings, one floating above her head, and the other almost touching the ground. Marigold gasped, and the circles of light crashed together, leaving nothing but a yard full of blue flowers on a background of burning buildings. Author's Note Inspired by- Radiant Historia Groundhog Day (Movie) Doctor Who I will repeat this at the end of each chapter. The only way this adventure will be expanded in any way is through your own imagination. Should you wish to expand an adventure, send me a PM telling me which one you chose. The answer will most likely be yes.
Rifle, Caliber 5.56mm, M16A shirt fell to the floor as a blue haired woman stared down the barrel of an M16A2. HER M16A2, considering that he didn't even pay for it. Mounted under the barrel was a bayonet, although she had installed it for show, it was still very, very real. The man behind the gun wore a matte black uniform, his abdomen protected by the heavy vest he wore. His face was covered with a balaclava with only his eyes showing. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. How does such a beautiful woman become a gunrunner?" She stood in the middle of a room, only wearing skimpy blue underwear with small stars that were only visible if examined close up. The florescent lights illuminated her shapely body that many a model would die for. At first glance, she would've appeared as a normal woman, albeit an extremely attractive one. But with her clothes on the floor, the most notable aspect of her was the blue crescent moon with a magic wand crossed over it tattooed on both cheeks of her rear. *** It was unusual for a stunning woman to appear in the middle of Angola, more unusual was the fact that she came alone. But all of that paled against her real purpose when she offered her services to the leader. No, not those services you dirty perv. She came selling weapons. Her first deal was simple. Get four hundred Kalashnikovs with ammunition and deliver them in two weeks time. Exactly two weeks later she stood outside of his house with a mountain of crates. AKMs from the factory in Ukraine, hundreds of thousands of 7.62x39mm ammunition, and finished with a load of fresh magazines. She was paid on the spot with a handful of rough diamonds. A month later she was in Somalia, selling BTR-60PBs to a local warlord. Impressed, she was paid in full. Joke was on him though, he didn't pay for gas. Mozambique, PK machine guns with new belts. She even sold in the streets of Tokyo. Due to the multitude of gun laws, a single firearm sold for many times its original value. Dictators shook hands with her, various policing agencies followed her. Or at least, tried to. She had this odd ability to simply disappear. Once, Chinese special forces stormed an inconspicuous house near the Gobi desert. She been observed using this house for many months, often entering with crates of guns. They found nothing but a confused old man and his eight year old grandson. SWAT teams fared no better with hideouts on the US-Mexico border, although they did find a half-kilo of cocaine once. Around the world, she was known only as Blue Witch. But to her, she was Trixie. Yes, the very same showmare that wandered into Ponyville was now selling tools of war to various entities. She did get over her distrust of wheels however. The year was 1986, and her pockets were heavy. But her story didn't start in Angola. In fact, her very first sale was a shipment of rifles to the Red Army in August 1918. Indeed, Trixie had created quite a history. But all the time with French resistance fighters after the Nazi occupation, the Jewish fighters during the Israeli War of Independence, to the Mujahideen of Afganistan, there was another who worked with her. And she was always watching. *** Although she couldn't see his face, she knew that he was actively drooling. His eyes traveled all the way from her pretty face to her petite toes. Of course her ample breasts got the majority of his stares. She peeked towards the mirror behind him. The large window was right behind her, but it showed nothing in the darkness. Trixie held up two fingers behind her back. "Now..." he motioned towards her bra, "Remove... Take it off." Rolling her eyes, she slowly reached behind her back and unclasped the fasteners. More and more was revealed, and the man's eyes got wider. But the second his gun drooped, she dove down. A millisecond later, a .30 caliber bullet ripped through his chest, piercing straight through his body armor. A shower of glass fell around the now broken window as the air went quiet once more. Trixie pulled and clipped the bra back on. She went over to the broken window and pulled the drapes closed. The woman picked up the assault rifle. Drop magazine, clear the chamber. It was one of the first lessons she learned from a Texan rancher when he heard that she had never fired a gun before. The drop of the 30 round STANAG magazine was muffled by the expensive thick carpet that was now dyed with blood from the dead man. She caught the flying 5.56 round before it hit the ground, something that she liked to practice and show off in her spare time. As she reloaded the round in the magazine, a black van pulled up in front of the house. Blacked-out windows, black paint, even the license plate had black duct tape on it. After Trixie pulled on her signature blue cape and hat, she snapped the M16 case shut and hung it from her shoulder. Outside, the wind blew a chilly October wind across her face, blowing her clothes like a flag. In the driver's window, a faint glow of a cigarette illuminated the face of her long time friend. "Trixie is pleased to see you again Gil-" "Hey! Whatdd I say bout' my name!?" The woman breathed deeply, the small ember glowing brighter every time she took a breath. "To not to." The seemed to calm her down. "Bingo. Now let's get the fuck outta here. We gotta new order. I think this guy wants to fight a war." Tires not screeching, the pair drove off to the local airport. *** 500 Remmington 870 shotguns, 400,000 shells, 00 buckshot. 850 AK-74s, 800,000 rounds, 7000 magazines. Mix of hollow point and armor piercing. 100 M2HB heavy machine guns, 500,000 rounds, armor piercing incendiary, anti-aircraft mounts. 15 RPG-7s, 500 HEAT rockets. Make sure that they aren't any crap Chinese guns inside. Deliver to Airfield 7221, Sinai Peninsula, Egypt. N30°48'18" E33°54'39" D - L. O. C. PS: No radio. Land at will. We'll keep traffic clear. In the skies above the eastern Mediterranean, a white-haired woman checked the navigation maps once more to ensure that they were on the right course. She had a very prominent purple eye shadow around her gold eyes. The same tint of purple also tipped her spiky hair that stuck out in front. Her battered leather jacket also held a holster for her favorite M1911 on the inside. To her left was an original M1903 Springfield rifle that she had taken a liking to. It was the very same gun that shot the man who was stupid enough to think that Trixie was helpless. The plane shook as it flew through another cloud causing the rifle to topple and hit her head with an empty konk. After a particularly hard landing in Syria, Gilda started calling the custom-made transport plane "Suchka." It was hard on the controls, engine two always found some creative way to conk out at the worst moment, and it guzzled fuel like a pregnant mother on cravings. But luckily for them, it got the job done. Suchka was the result of taking stolen Pratt & Whitney PW2000 engines from an US Air Force base and joining them with a C-5 Galaxy airframe salvaged from a boneyard. Spare parts from a number of planes, both military and civilian completed the Frankenstein creation. After a few years of fine-tuning the engines for every ounce of thrust and troubleshooting countless problems with a two hundred man team, the plane was finished. Paperwork had been forged, call signs created, and the plane made its maiden voyage. And oh holy god she could haul. They once had to deliver two armored personnel carriers by parachute, both stocked with weapons and full of gas. If they wanted to, they probably could carry a light tank or two, but they usually left vehicles to ships and trains. Surrounded by the delivery of guns, Trixie attempted to sleep in the small bunk in the back, but was kept awake by Gilda who sat in the pilot's seat blasting an upbeat rock song. To add insult to injury, she was singing along with her rough voice. "It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no..." "It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no..." "It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no..." "It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no..." Due to her life on both sides of the Iron Curtain, the griffon-turned-human had developed the most unique taste in music. From the west came ZZ Top and Creedence Clearwater Revival. From the east came the Red Army Choir. It had taken Trixie months before she finally got used to hearing guitar riffs one moment, then turning a complete 180 degrees to the booming and powerful bass voices of Russian men. It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no no no... Trixie sighed as the song finally faded away to nothing. She closed her eyes and started to drift off, but was interrupted by a faint drumming. A few voices added to the melody. Then out of nowhere, the entire choir joined in, leading to a catchy yet powerful beat that inspired the spirits of the people. "Trixie... needs... HER SLEEP!" she screamed over the voices and drums. Gilda didn't reply, and the woman sleeping under the blue cape could clearly hear the pilot humming along with the melody. She groaned. This was her daily life aboard Suchka, one that she should've gotten used to a while ago, but didn't. Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie spotted the assault rifle that hadn't been sold. She picked it up, almost dropping it when a particularly loud trumpet blast sounded as another Soviet war song came on. The M16A2 was as basic as it could get. No fancy sights, rails, or other accessories and the stock wasn't adjustable or folding. Trixie shouldered the weapon. The light polymers might've been ridiculed on the field, but to the medium-small woman, it felt perfect. Sure she had kept an old StG-44 handy, but the M16 was the gun she had been looking for. Gilda on the other hand, preferred larger weapons. She refused to use any weapon that was weaker than a .44 magnum, but had given into carrying a simple M1911 when an exchange went bad. Contrary to what people might think, she was actually a slow-and-steady type, a trait that was reflected by her choice in the bolt-action Springfield. Somebody said it's wrong but I know it's all right, "Somebody said it's wrong but I know it's all right," then it really hits you like a shot in the-. "then it really hits you like a shot in the ni- What the...?" The music suddenly cut off as a burst of radio chatter sounded from the radio. Trixie raced to the front and sat down in the co-pilot's chair. "What is it?" she asked. "Ssh." Gilda listened closely. The voices kept getting interrupted by static, but if her experience said anything correct, there were Israelis on the other end. "Yeah. That's definitely Hebrew." "What are they saying?" There was no answer as the pilot listened intensely. Hebrew was not one of her best languages, but she knew enough words to limp through a conversation. Through panicked yelling, Gilda tried to figure out what was going on. Something about... airspace... intruder... MiG-21? "They're talkin' about some airspace breach or somethin'. Don't worry bout' it," Gilda leaned back, "it aint' us." More chatter came through. "Actually... Crap. Whatever it is, it's headin' our way!" Various beeps sounded as a screen blinked to life. "Missile lock! Comin' in from the east!" *** Trixie leaned back in defeat. While the original flare and chaff dispensers were still in place, they had never been replaced or loaded for years. Trying to maneuver such a large and unwieldy aircraft would've been useless, the parachutes were somewhere behind a large crate full of 5.45mm ammunition, and to make matters even worse, the Israelis had not responded. A small tink could be heard as a single .357 round was loaded into a revolver. Gilda closed her eyes. Nodding to her partner, she got up and walked to the back. She pulled back the hammer and put the gun to her head. Trixie jumped at the sound of a gun going off. Tears dropped from her eyes as she realized that she was now completely alone. *** The missile flew closer and closer, while the Israelis had labeled the intruder as a technical glitch, as no other radar had detected it. Regardless, a pair of F-4 Phantom IIs were scrambled just in case. *** Trixie's head shot up as Gilda stomped back into the cockpit. Her eyes followed the woman as she sat back down in her chair. "...What are you doing here?" She mentally facepalmed at the phrase said without a thought. Gilda turned her head, the scowl and her annoyed attitude clearly seen. "I missed." A second later, the Soviet-made missile hit the transport plane. The pilot of the MiG-21 lit a cigar. Pink smoke filled his plane as the smell of chocolate wafted from the rolled leaves and paper. He growled. "Tia owes me big time, sending me on her errands..." The pilot glanced towards the picture. His face softened as he gazed towards his alicorn fiancé. They had promised to marry after the war, and he was not one for breaking promises. *** Gunfire. She had heard the sound of automatic weapons go off enough times that she could name the weapon being used. The heavy but muffled hammering was definitely the M2s. She sighed. If heaven was filled with guns, she was happy. "Trixie...?" Trixie was not happy anymore. She saw her M16 laying unloaded on the table next to the bed. When she reached for it, she pulled it next to her and cuddled it as if it was a lover. "Trixie! Please wake up!" Twilight begged. Behind her was the rainbow pegasus, attitude unchanged. "Why do we need her again? She's just going to-" "Rainbow. She an' the griffin' saved our hides' with those weapons. The spears are nice, but what they brought could turn this war right side' up." Oh yes, the apple farmer. Trixie's mouth started watering at the thought of her apples. The apples that grow on her trees, to be clear. "Tch. Gilda's probably-" "Whatever you think she's gonna' do, Ah'll bet it's because you started it." "Hey!" "Girls!" Twilight yelled. She turned towards the showmare-turned-gunrunner. "Trixie, you aren't asleep. Disc-" She was interrupted by a griffin that flew in with an assault rifle slung from his shoulder. "Colonel! We got Airships comin' in from the west! Illusion-Class!" Twilight nodded, "Get the fast flyers to intercept, test out the new RPGs. Make sure that they don't come within two miles of this camp!" "Yes sir!" Col. Sparkle turned to Trixie, who's eyes were wide and was now tightly hugging her M16 for comfort. "Anyways, Discord was the one who ordered the guns and brought you and Gilda to our world. We can't thank you enough and we'll pay you whatever you ask after the war ends." Wait... "What war?" Author's Note Inspired by- Lord of War My own fascination with guns. (I'll admit right now, the only reason that I wrote this story was to see how accurately I could write about technical details. If anyone has a lot of knowledge of firearms, please check to see if I got anything wrong.) Various genres of music Music list- Fortunate Son Polyushko Polye - Unnamed There March the Soldiers - Unnamed Can't Stop Rockin' I will repeat this at the end of each chapter. The only way this adventure will be expanded in any way is through your own imagination. Should you wish to expand an adventure, send me a PM telling me which one you chose. The answer will most likely be yes.
The Sky TitanIt had been a many a millennium since the Fall of Harmony. With the princesses lost, and the Equestrian Alliance broken, the three tribes fought a long and bitter war for dominance. The events that let up to the bloody Chaos Resistance were lost to time. The Lord of Chaos may have been blamed for rivalries and hate, but this time, he was no more than an innocent bystander. For a full century, the War of Three stretched out, thousands dying each day. Eventually, the conflict spread throughout the entire planet. All the creatures from the forgotten Changlings to the mightiest of dragons took part in this war, fueled by century-old feuds and ancient alliances. But eventually the fighting petered out, combatants and morale growing low. During this time, a forest known as the Everfree grew, feasting on the raw magic and biological matter that fell into its maw, never to be seen again. It expanded into an empire of its own, its mysterious properties stretching from the Forgotten Wastelands an ocean away to the sunken and underwater city of Marelantis frozen in the north. But when the war ended, they found a world unlike the one they had left. The wildlife grew, the clouds floated, and the sun and the moon rose and set. Initially, they celebrated the return of their princesses, but soon realized that there were gone, along with any semblance of unity. Centuries passed, and the world continued changing. In the center of the grasslands was Cygnus, a city born as a small mercenary outpost. Naturally, as it was visited by various species, there were no such thing as prejudice. Ancient rivalries were washed away by the simple need to survive. Daily, weddings bells rung to signify the union of two, most of the time not even of the same species. Even the architecture of the city itself was a mishmash of different cultures all coming together in one. It stretched hundreds of miles in all directions, surrounded by a wall that was a mile high and thick enough that an entire fort could fit inside. That was no exaggeration, they were built so well that not even the Behemoth could hope to trespass into the city. Right inside the walls were the farmlands, hundreds of thousands of acres filled with various types of grain all blew in the wind, ready to be harvested. Closer to the center was the market. Everything from Zebracan shamans advertising their services with the spirits to the minotaurs who sold freshly mined minerals in bulk. It was guaranteed that even in the darkest hours of the night, one could buy what they were searching for. Behind the bustling market was the more quiet residential areas, filled with homes small and cozy to the largest of mansions with hundreds of servants constantly working around the clock. And in the center was the castle which sat on a massive platform that could repel any amount of land invaders. Tall stone arches and pillars held up the structure. Probably the most interesting fact about the castle was the fact that every room inside was illuminated by natural sunlight. It was said to have been carved straight out of a mountain, as the tip of the highest observatory reached high above the clouds. But a simple exploration to the deepest and most ancient bowels revealed a startling truth. The land that the castle was standing on was once an expanse of completely flat land. Through decades of construction and millions of bricks, a one room shack had evolved into the center of civilization. In the sea was Aquarius, a jewel among the many shipwrecks that littered the area surrounding the city. It was supported by eight enormous ancient pillars that held the city right above sea level. The city extended from the palace that stood high in the center to the base of the pillars deep under the ocean. The highest of towers held the beacon, a ball of fire that burned for eternity. It could be seen for miles, attracting every kind of creature and promising freedom and safety within its borders. It too, eventually grew into a magnificent and beautiful city. In fact, it had even more of a species variance than Cygnus. But what if I told you that Cygnus, Aquarius, and even the mysterious properties of the Everfree was ancient history? By now, the mere concept of Alicorns were so long gone that they were reduced to dust, not even appearing in the oldest of myths. But he still remembered. He remembered when the world was young. He remembered the bright flash as Queen Galaxia molded the cosmos out of sheer willpower. He remembered the days when there were no days, for there was no sun. He remembered the first sunrise and how awestruck he was at its beauty. He couldn't believe how an insignificant orb of basic elements floating in the vast expanse could make something so stunning, then remembered how much love and care went into creating every speck of dust. He remembered her daughters, especially the one who cried in his arms when their mother passed on. He remembered his own banishment into stone. He remembered... He remembered... He remembered... At the deepest trench of the Winter Sea, a statue of a draconequus silently pleaded for escape, not even the harsh burning of the strong acid capable of melting away his prison. The once glorious city of Cygnus was no more than a circle of flat land, covered with the remains of a petrified forest, its once lush plant life now brown and hard. The city's enormous awe-inspiring arches were once large enough that even a fully-grown dragon would have to raise his head. Now, they existed as no more than mountains of gravel. Aquarius dropped into the sea when the waters around it eventually turned to acid as the stone pillars grew weaker and weaker til they could take no more. Only the airborne who lived above the clouds survived, eating a tasteless but filling fruit that grew on clouds. Pegasi, griffons, their cousins the hippogriffs, and all the birds of the air existed above the clouds. They simply lived, ignorant of what was happening below their homes. By now, the entire planet was covered with a thick blanket of dark smog, ensuring that they were free to fly and land where they wished. Over the centuries, a pegasus only known as The Mother unified the scattered species into the very first Aerial Empire. Her eyes were as strong as her will. It is said that she had been able to tame the violent griffons with a voice not unlike a mother scolding her child. She stood taller than any of them, equal in height to the alicorns of the old, but without the horn, for she was still just a pegasus. Her wings were massive, almost twice the wingspan of a regular griffon. Her brilliant orange coat shone like the sunrise while her violet hair was dark enough that the night sky seemed bright. Her creation was massive. Spanning the sky, there was no place completely inaccessible save for the occasional superstorm that blew the clouds into a frenzy. Their capital was near the equator, where the air was hot and the clouds were heavy. A simple one room house stood on a hill made of clouds. It overlooked the city, but was not where one would expect a ruler to reside in. The Mother simply called it her home, but to the inhabitants of the Aerial Empire, it was a place of worship, a place where pilgrimages took place every year. And it was on this day, right after sunrise, that The Mother decided to take a simple walk. "Good morning Mother!" An unknown said from around. "And a good morning to you!" she replied cheerfully. Around her, the sleepy marketplace was beginning to wake up, merchants opened shops and stalls, but her mere presence turned heads and sent whispers. She didn't notice, or at least, chose not to. The Mother yawned, then shook the sleep out of her head. She was never a morning pony, but enjoyed walking through the morning mist still fresh in the air. Soon, she was at the park. It was filled with statues made from clouds. Although The Mother had quietly protested, her figure dotted the area more than the others combined. High above her head, a small griffon fledgling jumped off of a cloud. A faint buzzing turned her own head. She was momentarily confused by the sound, until the fledgling fell next to her and landed in the cloud with a poof. She giggled as he tried to pull his stuck head out of the cloud. The Mother gently bit his tail and pulled. The clouds released his head with a loud, almost comical pop. "Are you alright?" The fledgling spat out some cloud that he had swallowed. He nodded, but shrunk away eyes wide when he noticed who she was. He tried to talk, but his words stuck in his throat. "I-I... than... k... you..." he stuttered, trying to hide his embarrassed face. She only smiled. "You're welcome." The Mother looked up at the cloud that he had fell from. "Is that your cloud?" The griffon nodded. "I'm-I'm try... trying to fly." Trying to fly... She remembered that she herself was once a very weak flyer, only able to soar in the sky much later than the other foals. The Mother looked at the sky. "Where are your parents?" The fledgling looked away, trying to avoid her eyes. "Away." he replied simply. The large pegasus smiled. She had time after all. "How would you like it if I," she paused, "taught you how to fly?" He gasped, his little eyes going wide at the thought of being taught by The Mother herself. She was instantly jealous of his childish enthusiasm at something she considered trivial. She had mellowed out considerably during the ages, her own personality changing from a tomboyish ball of energy to a more regal and calm figurehead. "Really?" he asked, not believing his ears. "Really." she promised. *** "Now remember, there's a lot more to flying than simply buzzing your wings. You got that?" "Yes ma'am!" he yelled, completing with a cute little salute. The Mother laughed, returning with a salute of her own. The sun had gone far enough in the western sky that it had turned a bright orange, the exact same color of her coat. "Now, can you fly to your cloud by yourself?" He nodded, and the pegasus stepped back to give him room. He flapped his wings. Not with speed, but with control. The small fledgling had made strides with his skill. He no longer fell, but was still shaky when taking off, something that could only be improved with practice. The griffon slowly took to the air, almost falling a few times, but righting himself into stability. A few minutes of effort felt like hours, the second his claws touched the surface of the cloud, he exploded in cheers. The Mother also let loose a few whoops of her own. He waved, savoring the moment. Shaking from the excitement, he curled up and attempted to sleep. She was proud as if he was her own child. His parents should be proud too. Taking a deep breath, she spread open her own magnificent wings. They extended with a graceful flourish as her feathers caught the air under them like a blanket. She jumped, going from the cloud to miles into the air within the blink of an eye. The Mother closed her eyes, feeling the cold, refreshing air of the high altitude sky. The pegasus felt the slight dampness seep through her coat as she soared through the wispy, delicate clouds. She sighed. Deep in her heart, she wished that she could see her old friend and idol once again. She was the reason that The Mother decided to start flying in the first place! But it was not to be. Her friend was dead long ago, as was the world she was born in. This was it. This was the end of the road. The adventure. The life. Nothing would change now. She opened her eyes. Just then, a single line lit up brightly as a star shot across the dark night sky. The Mother gasped, and closed her eyes tightly as she thought of her one want in the entire world. I wish Rainbow Dash could see me now... Author's Note Inspired by- Pretty much every fantasy setting. My only excuse is that I wanted to do some world building. And because I have a fetish for big castles. I will repeat this at the end of each chapter. The only way this adventure will be expanded in any way is through your own imagination. Should you wish to expand an adventure, send me a PM telling me which one you chose. The answer will most likely be yes.
