Everfree: Martyn's Trial

by HunterTheGypsyBard

Rating: everyone
Tags: Human, Romance, Comedy, Adventure
Length: 1118

When Martyn awoke in the middle of this land, he is chased, and he must escape. Towards the forest he runs, for safety? Or doom?

As Martyn, a teen escaping a troubled family, is taken into Equestria by forces he cannot understand, he is pursued upon arrival, and flees into the heart of the dangerous Everfree forest. He knows he is being followed, but he thinks he isn't the only one being chased.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-04 23:31:49 UTC

The Arrival

Blinding light burned Martyn's eyes as scorching winds blew his clothes around. he squeezed his eyes open past the glare of the sun, he was falling. A shot of crimson blazed past him and another streak of colour, this time a brilliant green, streaked into the side of his body. he collided as he fell closer to the grand with a great pine, and he was caught in the branches. He rolled and grabbed at the sharp needles as the spidery branches lashed at his clothes, which where beginning to look ragged. "Get the Human!" shouted a confident female voice, and after recognizing what was happening, Martyn was immediately grabbed by the scruff of his shirt, and felt hot breath on the back of his neck.

He was being lifted back into the air, and in his panic he kicked and scratched, and whatever he was being carried by was unable to keep grip. Good news: He wasn't being carried any higher. Bad news: Nothing was stopping his plummet. He careened towards he earth, into more lush foliage, this time not sharp pines but thankfully the soft leaves of a very large fruit tree. he rolled from branch to branch before falling the last few feet to the ground. he stood and examined his surroundings. Trees toward overhead, their foliage blocking out the sky he fell from, the only gap being where Martyn had fallen. Vines hung from the trees and iridescent flowers grew from every spare patch of earth. He was still in one piece, at least for now.

Martyn reached one arm straight across his chest, to stretch out his stiffening muscles before he winced and quickly retracted his arm. A large bruise was growing swiftly, originating from two small pinpricks in the soft skin just in the center of his inner right arm. His sleeve was torn on his right arm, allowing him easy visage to the welt growing on his arm. He wore a think plaid jacket, black and red on the outside with a soft white fur like material on the inside. Under that, a yellow graphic T-Shirt, too stained with mud and debris to understandably read the text below the shredded image macro. He was bare footed, which was not good in terrain like this, which he knew from sparring family hiking trips, and he also wore baggy black jeans, which had large holes revealing scraped knees. he had work to do.

If anything, Martyn was an analytical thinker, he quickly adapted to situations, and he was able to work to find his way out. Unlucky for him, he was also polar opposite of what type of person would fair well in wild terrain. He was 6 foot 2, with the skin of someone who recently escaped the prison of some demonic overlord, which seemed to glow in the dim light cast from the flowers and fungi draping his surroundings.

He began walking, if you want to stay lost, you walk, if you want to get found, you stay, and for some reason Martyn feared being found much more than not. He grabbed a long, somewhat straight piece of fallen timber and brandished it as a walking stick as he moved between the trees. The sun was setting, and he did not hope to find out what would come after dark.

The Basilisk

Martyn limped through the thick foliage, his walking stick barely keeping him on two feet, and his arm swollen to almost twice its size at the elbow. He felt his vision fading fast, and he kept seeing things at the edge of his sight, just beyond his consciousness. Am I being followed? He thought to himself, fearing that his painful trek may soon end in strife. A sound snapped into Martyn's skull, a sound of something hard ricocheting off of wood, a sound he knew from the distant memories of childhood bottle shooting with his cousins.

He raised his walking stick into the most threatening position he could muster; One hand on his leg to help him with balance, and his other hand holding his walking stick in the air. Twigs snapped and foliage moved before a creature leapt from the bushes toward Martyn, a basilisk. The serpent flew through the air, its small body glistening in the now very dim light, crimson scales ablaze and fangs glistening. The snake latched its fangs onto the middle of Martyn's walking stick and venom shot from a broken fang, burning Martyn's face and hands. He flung his walking stick towards a tree, the basilisk still attached, which resounded in an explosive crack as the dry wood shattered against the thick trees surrounding them. The basilisk slithered towards Martyn once again, barely dazed by its collision course with the tree. The basilisk rose its form into a position similar to that of a cobra, before locking gazes with Martyn. He couldn't look away, as he stared wide eyed and gape jawed at the serpent. Blackness formed on the edges of his vision, and he felt himself losing balance. The world seemed to slow as he fell towards the ground. As his head collided with the hard dirt, a small spherical object glistened as it sailed towards the snake. It collided with its target, and lights burst outwards, and ever so briefly Martyn saw a smiling figure approaching him, just before he blacked out.

Morning was just before its breaking as Martyn awoke. He quickly sat upwards, where he was greeted to a headache that sent him careening sideways as the full force of its pain hit him. He winced before opening his eyes once again; No sign of the basilisk.  As he sat up, slowly this time, a small piece of paper floated down from his chest, he picked it up in one hand and squinted to read it in the dim light.

Here arrives a Gypsy, fallen and tipsy. He will not yet laugh as he has lost his Gypsy's staff. Look to your right to prevent further fright, and continue on your journey.

He turned to his right to see the walking stick he threw at the basilisk, repaired with a golden band in the middle, where it had snapped, and a silvery crescent moon perched on the end. He reached for the staff and another thing shocked him; his arm. His arm no longer hurt and his elbow was wrapped in what appeared to be bandages made from very large dark leaves. He stood, his only ailment being his headache, which started to fade away as blood reached his head. H put one step in front of another, and began walking through the forest once again.