Cosmatic Beat

He breathed. The man breathed for the first time in a long time. He readied his feet, and ran through the gate of Oblivion. What he didn't expect, however, was the instant morphing into a shape that only the Eight knew. He tumbled down a hill, felt like he shattered his left foot, which didn't feel like a foot anymore. Felt like a stump, but he hardly thought much of it as he kept falling down the hill, until he finally, finally stopped thanks to a stray tree.

The Dragonborn was looking forward to another fun adventure through time or something, maybe stop another sun from dying. He didn't expect to be heavily injured immediately as he entered the gates. He hated, and I mean HATED, these adventures when he is always heavily injured in the beginning. He finally opened his eyes to see a very colorful forest in the distance, but then realized he was just staring at a leaf. He sighed, and got down from the tree.

Said Dovahkiin tripped on his foot, and hit the soggy mud that was conveniently placed just for him to fall in it. He got off of the mud, and was about to wipe it off when he seen it. He looked at his hands, and his legs. They weren't hands anymore! Or legs! They were stupid little stubs that he could hardly control. He lifted his stu- hooves, and put one over his face. He only ended up hitting himself and getting a bruise over his eye.

There was no definition of slapping with hooves, there was only punches. At least, from what the Dragonblood Breton felt. He had long forgotten his name, and foolishly went by only the name of "Dragonborn" which, to be honest, has been getting really annoying these past few weeks. He tried to cast magic but only ended up with a little husk of magic coming from his hooves. From what he knew, there was no spell or remedy for form-changing. Maybe if he became a werewolf again, but being a werewolf sucked.

You had this really intense craving, or that horny feeling one feels but it feels different then horny. It was always hard to explain for the Dragonborn. He transferred Harbingership to Aela. He always liked her, but not in the romance-sense. She would just be a stupid regular housewife then. Maybe. He got up off the ground, trying to get a feel of this incredibly annoying form. Right hoof, left hoof, back left hoof, right hoof.

It was a incredibly difficult combination to get a hold of. At least he wasn't sold to Nocturnal or anything anymore. He relinquished all of his powers just to stay away from that. Even his inherent trait of absorbing magic was gone after that. And that normally means you have no inherent connection to the Breton power-thing-a-majig anymore. The Breton-turned-pony started to get the jist of the combination of hooves, but he stopped when he realized something was on his head.

"Having problems?" Sheogorath said, appearing in front of him. Well, not appearing in front of him per-say, it was more like his voice just appearing with a red-white aura in front of him being the only indication that the Daedric Prince. "I get it, Sheogorath. This is payback for getting your staff, right?" The Dragonborn said, his voice surprisingly hoarse. The idea that the Daedric Prince was laughing at him just stuck in his mind.

"Oh no, my amnesiac. This is a incredible gift from some of the people upstairs. A link to the realm of Heaven! Not like Sovngarde, with those idiots just sitting idly in chairs not eating a darn thing and just looking at each other." The Dragonborn got the idea that Sheogorath was watching his efforts against Alduin there. He sighed. Sheogorath cut to the point. "I like cheese. Now, let this be known: You have only a few hours to be here. You can mess up anything you like, anytime or, heh, 'anypony'." And with that, the aura disappeared, along with any voice that was his.

"Wait, wait! I need to know how to use this body! I really really need to know. I can't even use MAGIC anymore!" The Dragonborn pleaded. He didn't want to kill anybody in this realm, much less other gods that can just launch him into the sky for him to die on landing. He looked up and noticed that it was night. Mind you, a very dark night with no stars whatsoever. He figured that the gods were just screwing with him and moved on. He was starting to get the hang of walking, anyway.

One Hour Later

He eventually discovered he didn't have his dagger with him, so there was no chance of defending himself aside from his pacifist spells, which he was a master in. Unfortunately, he only had some stupid stupid horn to, he assumed, was a substitute for magic. He scolded himself for even entering the portal. While he was trudging through mud, he was having an argument within himself.

"Oh sure, Dragonborn, you can handle Alduin and you just looooove adventure and all its hill falling mud facing and no-magic ways. Sure, sure, its an ADVENTURE alright!" He yelled, but he stopped when he heard a familiar howling. He heard it oh so often in his travels of Skyrim. So many times. So many wolves. He looked behind him and seen three wolves, but they were different then the ones in Skyrim or his adventures in Tamriel. Oh so different. Timberwolves, from what their 'fur' looks like and their insignificant snarling. He had to run. This time, he really really had to run. He didn't have any weapons or armor to defend himself with and only these saddlebags accompanied him here, along with some type of...tattoo along his fur. And so he ran, with haste and surprisingly keeping his hooves up along the way, until he tripped again. The Eight were just smiling on him today.

As the wolf was about to make its lunge, he attempted to cast a spell with his pathetic attempt to use his horn, if it could even be used. The release of magic was spontaneous, and went over a wide area around him, affecting the wolves and whatever else was posing a threat to him. He had his eyes closed and whimpered for a moment, only to find out that he was 'okay'. From what he knew, the paralysis spell didn't cover that much of a wide range. This realm, or world, must have a different way of using magic.

He got up, and poked the statue of a wolf, which only fell to the side helplessly. It glowed in a green aura. He ran as fast as he could in the other direction, finally getting the feel of using these hooves. Perhaps they weren't so useless after all. Finally, a town was in the distance, and just a few feet (hooves?) away from him was a cobblestone road. He slowed down, and walked on the cobblestone rode. Bouncing and ecstatic that he was near society, his happiness died down when he realized he wasn't in Skyrim. But each bounce made a clank, and he looked at his hooves. He was wearing...golden hoof-gear? When the heck did he get this? The Dragonborn just didn't bother, and walked through the town.

He assumed the lack of any horses, or humans, meant that they were all asleep. But when he looked through the windows of the houses of said natives, he found no indication that there was anything living in there. Whether that was just him or...something else, he moved on. Honestly, he was tired. Very tired, but he had to hoof it and move on. Then, he found the local park, but he hid. There was a party going on, with other horses like him dancing and talking his own language! The Dragonborn didn't want to interfere, so he started to walk towards the library-looking place, which, he didn't know how he recognized. But as he was about to turn around, he was stopped by a pink tim-

"HI! Whats your name? Because I totally noticed you sneaking around and my hooves twitched left and right and because of that I strayed from the party but I never wanted to bother you so I stalked you and then I seen you here an-" Unfortunately, having the living shit scared out of him by a pink horse made him activate his spell from his horn instinctively, and she was paralyzed. "Uh oh! Look, uh, pink...horse, I didn't mean to do that! I know you can hear me, but I kind of....can't reverse the spell. It doesn't damage you or anything by the way, but, if you want to find me, I'll...." He dragged out the L's in his last word, but he had to confuse her incase the horse got up again.

"I'll be at the Unicrons Cove." He then hoofed it away from the paralyzed body. Thank god he specialized in pacifist spells or...that might have been so much worse. He ran towards the library and, surprisingly, opened the door that was unlocked and closed it. The Dragonborn then began to read the books in the library as fast as he could find him. Which, was to say, very slow. He tried to find a stupid Common Newborn Names book because they have that in Tamriel. He could only hope. He opened a book, and read its contents.

Most of it was garbage, but he finally caught his alias. Or hopefully, his soon-to-be name. Touching the name and smudging it with his muddy hooves, he just took to remembering it. Cosmos. What could he do with that name? He had to move it around, because from what he read as names in this book...the names of these horses are so odd. He mixed things around.

"Cosmatic Beat. That sounds sexy and nice."

He quickly scrambled to collect all the books he could about the state and civilization of this world. He needed to fit in, and fit in fast. He stuffed all the books about civilization in his saddlebags, and accidentally knocked most of the books off the shelves. Whoever works here will have to clean it up, because he doesn't have enough time to stay. "Twilight...? Please don't let this be one of your pet projects again!" Someone said from the second floor. Cosmatic Beat quickly ran out the door, but instead ran into the wall. He was completely knocked unconscious.

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Spike looked at the state of the library and sighed. He would have to clean this all up again. But what surprised him more was the amount of muddy hoof prints all over the floor, and unfortunately all over Twilight's books. From what he knew of Twilight, she was not going to be happy about this. The young dragon walked downstairs and slowly moved the books in to alphabetical corners to better put them back later.

He put the dirty ones in a corner, he will have to find a way to clean them off later. Spike finally took the notice of the stallion unconscious right next to the door. He walked right back up stairs, made a letter, and sent it out to Twilight. Hopefully this was one of her friends or something. If the stallion was, then Twilight would recognize him. He walked right downstairs and looked at the stallion, but then noticed all the wounds and mud tracked in. And his saddlebags, filled with the libraries books.

He was going to need some care.