Something Else

by Mr Clumpy

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Gore, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Dark, Human, Princess Luna, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure, Shining Armor
Length: 8343

When two lost fillies find a strange creature sitting beside a small fire their curiosity gets the better of them, while no harm was done, the events of that night were never forgotten, little did they know that the creature would return...

When two lost fillies find a strange creature sitting beside a small fire their curiosity gets the better of them. While no harm was done and they were safely found the following morning, the events of that night were never quite forgotten...

Little did they know that the creature would return, darkness in one hand and madness clenched within the other, seeking refuge and rehabilitation for sins of the past and the future.

Edited by : Rukitichi

This is a The Elder Scrolls/MLP:FIM crossover.
(Note: The Elder Scrolls, not just one publication.)

This isn't an alternate universe fiction due to the fact by elder scrolls lore, Equestria could easily be a realm or sliver of oblivion, AND IT IS NOT and will not be a standard human in Equestria fiction, if you don't believe me read it and find out.

Published 2013-03-20 01:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-20 19:29:55 UTC

Prologue:- A bed time story.

“You must remember that this is a strange memory for me to bring up, one from thousands of years ago when the world felt young and full of life; one from when i was naught but an innocent filly lost in the wilds alone and scared with my sister. We had come across a strange creature, something of both danger and comfort; a strange mixture mind you, but in the end it meant us no harm. You need to understand that this took place before we grew up and the darkness took her so long ago.

Dim was the orange light that flickered around the clearing, scattering shadowy patterns across the trees and silhouetting a tall dark figure sitting with his legs crossed on the ground. He was staring into a small camp fire with milky white eyes, set into a ghostly pale face, a sad smile etched across his features; framed with long, silky black hair twisted into a series of complex braids hanging loosely down his back. His body, curiously, seemed to be made of a golden stone laced with black and silver, covered over in places by a dark swirling cloth. One of the things that I remembered most was the eyes, but Luna? She was completely fascinated the colour of its mane, we had never seen a creature with such strange features or such a dark mane before, it was darker than hers by far and blacker even than the night itself.

“Come sit down my dears, I won’t hurt you” he beckoned us softly. I remember that his smile seemed to warm up as he looked across the fire, straight through the leafy shrubs we were cowering ineffectually behind and patted the ground beside him, a gentle blue enveloping his right hand. Again such sharp details; that comforting glow, magic I now know, but back then... It was strange, we felt that he didn't mean us any harm but he still gave off an air of a danger difficult to ignore. How could we trust such conflicting senses? how could we trust something that wasn't a pony?

A soft rustling answered him as I shuffled forward, close behind my sister; to him it must have been strange to see us little creatures, with our small wings and stubby horns, nervously peering out of the bushes at him. He was equally as strange to us, though the previous fear of the strange creature before us seemed to be slowly ebbing away... fading as foalish curiosity got the better of us, but even then it was Luna and not me who went over to him first.”

A soft smile and gentle sigh crossed Celestia’s lips. “It's strange really, considering all my failings... now, now don't start with that, everything from a grain of sand to a god has flaws you know. But anyway Luna approached it, slowly at first, then gaining in confidence she trotted over and sat near the fire, though still keeping a cautious distance away from the creature.”

“Well hello there, little filly,” I recall he said to her, “are you by any chance hungry?” she nodded, before he lazily pointed quite clearly in my direction “And how about your sister hiding in the bush there? Hmm... I think I might have something for you two in my pack somewhere...” he said, reaching down into a lumpy backpack at his feet, one milky eye closed and his tongue sticking out in concentration while he searched single-handedly for his prize..

A small cough escaped Celestia’s lips as a blush rose to her cheeks, “now, you must remember I was only a few years older than you when this happened, and like all family I was protective of those close to me, even more so since it was my fault we were lost in the wilderness in the first place; so when he took a small cake out of the bag and offered it to my sister, who at this point had slowly shifted closer to the creature, I ran over and batted it away with my wing, inadvertently knocking it into the fire. I didn't know what it was at first so I naturally panicked, it is really quite amusing now I think about it; a frightened Luna not knowing what was happening behind me, standing in front of her, my wings spread out barely 2 feet tip to tip and Ievitating all the threatening objects I could - which embarrassingly amounted to about 3-4 small pebbles! Hey don't giggle you! I wasn't always this old you know!”

With a quick smile towards her little purple ward she continued “well, anyway, despite my rather embarrassing display he just looked for what seemed like eternity before laughing. I had never heard anything quite like it, it sounded like it came from deep within his chest, reverberating up through his throat in a gravelly roar. I stood there, confused and anxious, before he swiftly plucked me up off the ground and plopped me back down next to my sister. It was strange you know, I didn't understand it at the time; I threw away his food, I threatened him, and he had the power to do whatever he wanted to us and he just laughed, and then he just got out another two sweet rolls and gave them us with only the word “enjoy,” and a swift smile. He watched us eat before staring back into the fire, with those milky white orbs; as we slowly drifted off to sleep, full of food and soothed by the warmth of the fire.”

“Speaking of which” she said softly as she looked down at the little filly, eyes closed and breath deep and even, before gently tucking her in and kissing her forehead. “Sleep well my little Sparkle, sleep tight.” she whispered with a smile, then turned and flicked the lights off with a golden glow of her horn. But, before she could leave, she heard a quiet murmur from the bed; “what happened to the creature?”

“I don't know... I just remember falling asleep, hearing it whisper an apology and then waking up under a blanket, with the shouts of the castle staff echoing through the trees.”

She closed the door and continued down the hallway towards her own quarters. She ignored most the guards and castle staff along the way, caught in her own thoughts, a mild sense of guilt tugging at the corners of her mind from the lie she had just told Twilight. She recalled a few more details than she had let on. One of these details had been two letters, written in a long cursive hand that spelt out both her’s and Luna’s names, left within a hoofs reach of the sleeping fillies. Strangely, she did not remember either of them telling him who they were. The second detail she remembered clearly was that the creature - or ‘human’ as she had found out centuries later - was missing its left hand. Looking back at the memory, and her own dark experiences, she realised the wound had been recent, barely healed. Though by far the most disturbing part of the memory were the details she noticed when she awoke in the morning. That terrible smell. That of bile and blood, burning flesh and bodily waste spilt upon the ground, ash in the air and brimstone on the wind. Trees burnt and and mutilated corpses of creatures stranger than the human littering the ground in a wide circle, at the centre of which the young princesses slept. In the midst of the thicket she and her sister had hidden the night before, had lain a bloodless hand, wrapped in the same strange golden stone the human had been clad in. On one of the lifeless fingers lay a simple golden band...

Chapter 1:- Regrettable Actions.

It’s a strange sensation, isn’t it, when you return to a place you once knew so well, still somehow the same and yet so different? No longer were these halls a soothing white stone, filled with the senseless political bickering of the nobility. No... now it was saturated with menace and a foreboding atmosphere lay heavy on the air. I lent on a decrepit balcony, overlooking the chambers below and watching the elected speaker for those despicable Thalmor rant and rave about moving troops freely through the imperial provinces, a feat which had apparently become significantly more difficult since that little rebellion up north had ended.

I smiled; how could I not? Below was all pointless bantering. I knew they would never catch their prey, more so as I sensed a familiar presence appear to my right. One of the few immortal men who would ever have been able to recognize me... a strange day indeed. After all, it wasn’t every day you got a visit from the Count of Skingrad, but then again it had been almost 150 years since I had last returned to Mundus, to this place. The location of the last great heist, and seat of the old empire.

I turned around, grasped his wrist with a firm shake and a one armed hug, earning us several disgusted looks from the pompous nobles, well, those that didn’t recognize the Count at least. Those wise enough to identify him, or perhaps those unnatural golden eyes swiftly turned their gaze away from the two men.

“It has been too long, old man, much too long!” I exclaimed, earning several disgusted looks.

“It has indeed, old friend, it has indeed, but unfortunately this is not a simple social call.” he replied, voice lowering at the same rate as his face seemed to darken.

“I must admit, I was quite surprised when I got your summons.” I returned, in a muted tone. I glanced down at the floor below, before swiftly continuing, “I’m guessing this has something to do with the “gift” I left you?”

“Hmm... I suppose you could say that, but perhaps this isn’t the area for such talk... do you remember the village of Aleswell?” he asked, and was answered by a swift nod. “Well... meet me there at sundown... tonight. Oh, and you do realise weapons are not permitted in here right? Ah, of course you did, why am I even asking?” He sighed, before turning around and walking back towards the stairs.

A sly grin spread across my features as I eyed the nearest guard, his eyes no longer glazed over from the simple illusion he had been under but moments before. Instead, they were angled in my direction, staring at the rather obvious twin hilts sticking out from beneath my robes, and the unmistakable honey-coloured armour poorly hidden under the dark cloth. Drawing his sword, he walked slowly towards me as the other guards followed suit, drawing their own swords and closing in.
A grin still splitting my face, and growing wider by the minute, eyes glittering in the mixture of torch and diffused sunlight, I glanced between the fast approaching guards and the now screaming nobles, and down at the council chambers whose members were looking up at the gallery in confusion and fear at the sudden screams.

My choice of action was apparently decided for me. I slowly slid one of the aforementioned, barely hidden blades out of my robes and pointed it at the rapidly approaching guards. Grinning like a madman, I leaped at the railing, grasped it in one hand and launched myself over it into the council chambers.

Landing on the floor with a heavy thud, I stood up quickly. The giant doors into the chamber were slamming shut, locked tight with some unnatural force. As I neared the dais in the centre of the room, the silver matrixes embedded in the metal of my honey-coloured armour - still partially obscured by the dusty old robes I was wearing - started glowing perceptibly with rapidly storing power.

Ignoring the screams and yelling of the local audience, I turned, my sightless eyes scanning the chambers, seeing more now than they had ever done before; of the mortals surrounded the giant dias, revealing truths and lies, fear and anger, but also curiosity and contempt.

Pulling my hood back caused a shocked silence to fall across the hall. Facing my audience, white eyes staring, I gave a quick bow. “Ladies and gentlemen, man and beast, if you would please be quiet a moment, I will make this brief... I know what you have done, and what you are going to do, and I will tell you this; it will fail. This is not an opinion but a fact. Every man and woman you have sent have died, every man and woman you send will die.” I turned to the Thalmor delegation. “I know what you are and I know who you are, and I say this; you will not win. Try as you might, you will fail. The arrogance of Altmer will be your downfall. Power and age are relative, and yours is waning... Ira Dei manet in vobis, ut et caput eius verba tua veritas mendaciis!” I stopped, manic smile widening, eyes following the flow of magical energy surging into the focal points of the the various mages around the room. Their intent was clear, but it didn’t leave me worried as I crouched down and slid the tip of my sword cleanly into the stone beneath me. I was preparing a little gift, a gift only suitable for one of nobility and importance, the same gift I had once received from a mischievous prince, for a party of fellow nobles. Albeit, slightly altered.

The power of the spell I was casting reached a crescendo, before flowing down the embedded weapon and discharging the amassed energy into the dais below. That moment, the room started to shift around me.

The primary spell is a strange one, though of course, when dealing with magic, everything is strange. The more you learn of it, the stranger it gets. Most forms of teleportation and summoning require the use of a focus, or several focuses, in the form of a spell or naturally occurring magic. Be these self replenishing pads crafted by mages, or special types of material and minera, it always revolves around the presence of an enchanted anchor, so to speak. When considering how to power these spells and relevant anchors, there are various ways; acting as a waypoint oneself, as done when summoning, using sigil stones, found naturally occurring in the folds of oblivion, or even a daedric prince, sharing a portion of his magic to create a stable gateway. Each option comes with their own dangers and limitations, but a displacement and overlay spell was altogether a unique type. Crafted not by man or by mer, Daedra dragon or Daedroth, constructed instead by a mad Khajiit bearing the name of Qo’dar, one who once had taken me to a little sliver of oblivion. There, he had unfortunately met his fate. A peculiar spell indeed, created by an increasingly peculiar race of cats, especially once combined with Sanguine’s party spell...

The transition happened smooth enough, causing me to land just steps outside the inn itself. I stood up swiftly, sheathing my sword and concealing the hilt back under my cloak as I pushed my way into the darkened inn.

“Wow.” I muttered, slightly taken aback. The place hadn’t changed in the slightest since I had last been here... Well, minus the fact that the bar was now run by a rather pale-coated khajiit, beautiful dark stripes decorating his fur. His experienced eyes bluntly evaluated my presence; a swift nod in acknowledgement and I sat down at the bar. Pushing a few septims his way across the ancient wooden counter rewarded me with a full, frothy mug, and small talk in return. This minute exchange continued for several hours, before the door once again creaked open behind me and a grin spread across my face as I recognized the familiar presence, along with a few others, standing directly behind me. Looking up into the face of the bartender, however, quickly put an end to my joy.

I turned cautiously, and peering at the newcomers I understood the bartender’s apprehensive expression. A mixture of men, in silver and black plate, the emperor's symbol engraved upon their shields, and tall slender mer clad in extensively patterned armour the colour of tarnished gold.

In all honesty, I should've expected it really, but then again spending several decades within the Isles was enough to unhinge even the sanest of creatures. (and i never was quite the sanest to begin with!)

I sighed wearily, before downing the rest of my ale and turning towards the chained count.

“Friends of yours, I presume.” I teased with a smile, watching the count squirm in unaccustomed discomfort, the chains upon his wrists visibly digging into his flesh.

“Oh, shut up and just get me out of these, I’ve had enough of politics today.” He snapped back in my direction, and rattled the chains binding him, causing the guards holding the chains to tense aggressively.

I let loose a small laugh as I stood up, put my hands on my lower back and stretched, earning several satisfying pops as the bones cracked back into place. I straightened up and dropped the cloak off my shoulders, a demented grin fixed across my face, broadening as the guards visibly shrunk back towards the wall. They had realised that they were horribly outmatched by something far older and far more powerful than them.

“This should only take a minute.”

I sat on top of the pile of recently defeated and twitching guards and looked solemnly down at my feet, not feeling much beyond a cold numbness spreading around my limbs as the truth of what I had just been told seeped through me.

It couldn't be true could it? It must be some kind of a sick joke... but then again, maybe not... I had heard the rumours of the darkness in the north even from my seat in the Shivering Isles, I had seen enough of this world and a few others to know that forces of nature and probability moved with their own course, to the irk of the higher powers. It had long ago made me realise that, against all odds, it was more than possible to be your own man against whatever the princes of Aedra and Daedra would have you believe.

I had seen him myself, and yet, not myself when I had paid a visit to an old friend, someone I knew dearly, yet had never known; sitting there, opposite me, the staff of madness in his hand. He had looked so innocent and pure... oh, don’t get me wrong, everyone has blood on their hands; from the simplest child whose playful teasing of a peer would eventually cause that person to murder and pillage in the name of their king, to the priests and priestesses who would try to help others, but know that all they can do is relieve the pain of their patients dying before them. I am talking about this particular soul, though, long before he took his first life in cold blood, long before he succumbed to the hideous temptations of Molag Bal and Hermaeus Mora.

Yet, I now knew where he would be soon enough, and I needed to stop him. But, then again, how could I? It truly was a horrific and abhorrent world, in which someone so innocent could be corrupted so completely by those he had tried to save. That he could warp himself into darkness incarnate, selling his soul for immortality and power... still... even I did so at one point. Selling my arm to the highest bidder, for the promises of reward and adventure... ah, but look at me now, Prince of Madness! Yet not... the power of a Daedric prince at my fingers, yet just an immortal battle-mage, neither living nor dying... armies of Daedra and madness in my grasp... but... there was someone, someone that wasn’t there...

A smirk flickered across my face, as I recalled my last conversation with Haskill before setting out on this misbegotten journey; maybe, just maybe, I could save him, but at what cost...?

With a knowing look in the Count’s direction and that maniacal grin once again upon my features - after all, madness is the cure for everything, isn’t it!? - a click of my fingers and I was gone, with crazy plans to set forth and undefinable spells to prepare... after all, being the champion of madness didn’t give me unlimited power.

The throne room was just like the rest of the castle, empty and quiet, with all but a very few ponies moving around this time in the morning. Even Luna had repaired off to some other part of the kingdom for the night, to attend to the royal duties demanded of her. The bright moonlight shone through the stained glass windows; creating a flickering light show of flowing pictures upon the ground and leaving the room with a feeling of ethereal beauty only matched by the princesses themselves.

A single flicker of static crackled in a spot roughly in the centre of the room, reaching directly down as if to pierce the very earth with light, barely visible to the naked eye. Seconds later, another, larger beam arched across the room, this time scorching the white marble pillars as the magic discharged through the rock, before again stopping; a third strike struck the ceiling, then a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh, each one bigger and stronger than the last, striking almost randomly around the room in single arcs before it all came to a swift stop when striking for the 17th time, punching a hole through the alabaster throne and partially melting the wall behind it, leaving a sickly red glow in its wake.

Just as quickly as the last bolt had half destroyed the throne, a singular arc hammered into the ground, just where the original static hit. Several different streams of electricity seemed to physically split away from from the bolt connected to the floor, slicing cleanly through everything they touched as they advanced. Erratic forks of lightning cracked and fissured away from each of the streams, smashing chunks of plaster and marble from the ceiling, walls and floor as twenty-seven different coloured beams of light appeared, tearing long crooked lines in the floor and sending deadly fragments of quartz and molten rock flying, as each bolt managed to find its way back to earth.

Just as quickly as the chaos had started, it seemed to cease, leaving most of the pillars in the room smoldering, and tell-tale splashes of cherry red betraying several streams of rapidly cooling rock oozing onto the shattered floor. The smell of ozone tainted the throne room, and distant shouts and the clatter of armoured hooves could be heard approaching the door.

The thunderous booms of the discharges could have been heard for miles around, mangling the throne room with the overwhelming noise. The cacophony had understandably driven even the most stalwart of royal ponies down onto their elbows, hooves in ears, as much in fear as with a dose of sheer magical pressure disrupting the normal flow of magic in all four races alike.

The first on the scene was a relatively new guard by the name of Safety Pin, a rather lean pegasus with a honey coloured coat and a soft grey mane, hidden by the enchanted armour of Luna’s Night Guard. He approached the room on hoof, trotting guardedly towards the now decimated throne room. Glancing behind him for backup and seeing none, he turned the corner and looked into the corridor with horror.

Embedded in the opposing wall like bolts in a tree sat the two giant doors, previously standing as a final barrier to any destructive forces wishing the royalty harm. These doors, by order of the princesses, had been both magically and physically reinforced to withstand even the harshest of bombardments, forged in dragon fire and crafted with the strongest enchantments known to pony kind, and there they were, half melted and impaled into the solid stone wall as if it was wood.

With a harsh shake of his head and a focused gaze he sped up to a fast canter, a steady mixture of dread and excitement weighing on his chest. He felt his heart pounding as he closed upon the now empty hole. With thoughts of grandeur scrolling through his mind and recollections of the stories of old; brave ponies going on grand adventures, slaying monstrosities and saving maidens in distress, he foolishly approached the scene, ignoring the training he had received in anticipation of the potential glory ahead.

Confusion spread across Safety Pin’s face as he peered into the destroyed room, his enchanted armour lending him better vision and a better representation of the carnage within. The first thing that hit him through the haze of vapour and dust was the sheer amount of damage, the glowing red puddles of molten rock, the gouges cut into the floor, the ruined pillars and chunks of the beautifully painted ceiling missing, dangerous looking cracks spreading across the plaster overhead. Most disturbingly of all was the foal sized hole missing from the back of the throne, and the wall, which, seen through the hole, and from the distance of the hallway looked like what could only be described as curved glass, flowing downwards yet eerily frozen in time.

Sounds of armoured hooves on stone came thundering down the hallway behind him, snapping him out of his state of shock. With another glance at the room, he saw what he had failed to notice before in his contemplation of the damage; floating innocently in the centre of the room was a tiny, dark purple and green ball the size of a walnut. His enhanced vision enabled him to see, if he focused hard enough on the thing (not daring to get any closer), several faint white strands extending out from the centre of the ball.

Whipping around, he recognized his superior officer, following a large purple pony into the room. It didn't take any second glances to know who this member of royalty was.

Princess Twilight Sparkle stood in the doorway, slack jawed, mouth agape. Safety Pin shuffled awkwardly. “Um, it was like this when I got here.” She didn’t react. “Princess? Er, Your Ladyship?” He coughed and glanced at the captain, “Sir?” The officer had gone a deep purple, and wore an expression that made him look... well, constipated. He looked like a pony that couldn’t quite contain the outright indignation suffusing through his entire being, against whoever had had the cheek to even attempt something like this against his beloved princesses, let alone actually succeeded in making this Celestia-awful mess I mean what if the princesses had actually been in here oh my Celestia this was all his fault he was the leader of the guard for Luna’s sake, he would not let those hoof-sucking sons-of-mules get the damned buck away with this...

The captain was turning deeper and deeper purple. Safety Pin screwed up his nose. His superior almost looked like he was holding his breath...“Okay then...” he turned back to Twilight. “Your er, Majesty?” She blinked, snapping out of her stupor. “Yes, sorry... what happened here?” Safety shrugged. “All I know is that I came running when I heard all that awful noise going on, only to be met with this horrible mess upon arrival.” Twilight gulped. “Nothing... nopony... still here? nothing that might give us a clue to what caused this?” He pointed at the little orb thing with one forehoof. “Well there is that. Little sucker is just sitting there. It was right there when I got here, and if you look close, you can see these creepy little strands of white floaty stuff. I’ve got a bad feeling about it. It might have even caused this disaster...”

“CAUSED IT?” The captain seemed to have jolted himself out of... whatever he was doing, and was now stomping towards the ball, eyebrows knitted together in fury. he reached the orb and held out a hoof, muttering something about guards and princesses and Celestia...

“NO STOP! DON’T TOUCH IT!” Safety screamed at his captain seconds too late, he had touched the threads. Turning to look him in the eye as his hoof made contact.

He had seen it! The sphere was alive! Or at least it acted like it. A slow beat like a heart leading out from the threads. The threads! The threads were beating as if it had a pulse, or a drum waiting for a signal to change the pattern, and he had touched it, whatever it was, the thing that had destroyed one of the most secure rooms in Equestria seemingly without a problem... and he had touched it!

A scream filled the room, an unnatural abomination of a noise, one that should never be heard by mortal ears, one that should never have been able to come out of a pony's mouth and yet there it was... Safety Pin looked on in horror, his eyes locked with the unfortunate unicorn’s, eyes that were full of pain and fear, eyes that showed nothing but terror. It got worse, the screaming louder, until his armour shattered like glass into dust before it hit the ground, and time seemed to slow... his coat glowed a horrific shade of sanguine as if his blood was trying to escape from his very core, each cell being chased by pain in its purest form. The red was overtaken by wet lines, quickly growing thicker until his entire body was as dark as the void, leaving just those screaming, staring eyes. His black form just as quickly started burning bright white, as the unicorn’s body dissolved in what seemed like an eternity.

Managing to wrench his eyes away, Safety Pin saw that the orb was pulsing vigorously, the threads getting thicker, and his princess, staring just like every other pony in horror at the sight before her, completely distracted. She hadn’t perceived the growing thread of monstrous light aimed straight at her chest, one significantly thicker than the captain had just touched.

He shot forward, propelling himself to a quick gallop with his wings, still unable to fly due to the massive disturbance. He slammed as hard as he could into her side, knocking her out of the path of the deathlight and into the corner of the hall. It was almost amusing really... What seemed like an eternity ago, yet only a little over two hours, he had been sitting in the mess hall complaining about the lack of excitement around the castle! Now look at him.Then he laughed, because he had done his duty, and he was proud even if he had only lasted three and a half weeks. His family loved him, and he them... he just... he just wished that they wouldn’t be sad. He looked down, and saw his flesh flayed by the beam piercing his left flank. It came out above his right wing, severing his spine in the process.

“I am sorry.” He heard the voice, but not through his ears... inside his head? “What for?” he wondered, “what are you sorry for?” He couldn’t, due to lack of a jaw, physically speak.
“I am sorry because you should not be here. You got caught up in a mess you had no control over, no part in, and I cannot save you. I am so sorry.” the voice stopped. It sounded sad.

“It’s fine.” he smiled inside as the rest of his body turned to ash in the hall. The last sensation he felt was a warm caress, pulling him softly in, something like his mother's embrace.

Seventeen beams of energy reconnected to the original strike points and solidified between the sphere and the connections, forks of energy lashed out and created webs of connections at the terminals. The guards previously standing around had been blown back, leaving a distraught purple lump of feather and fur gazing in terror towards the growing ball in the centre. Everywhere the light touched turned to molten rock, oozing down the rubble and over the floor.

The threads started to pulse faster, straining away from the sphere, pulling it outwards and ever bigger. The increasing size of the ball, coupled with the huge amounts of heat generated caused the pressure in the room to shoot up.The remaining stained glass windows couldn’t take the extra punishment and shattered, releasing the unbearable pressure.

With an ear-splitting boom that shook the mountain, the orb cracked, the light tearing it like elastic ripping away pieces of eggshell. The slabs of magical energy rapidly dissipated, before they could smash into the walls and the molten rock around the room swiftly solidified. In the centre of the room, two strange bipedal creatures appeared; one in dark black robes lying on the floor, a broken blade made of some sort of weird metal as dark as night discarded to his right, the other creature in a strange glowing armour the colour of honey, standing over him. One hand clenched the hilt of a blade buried in the chest of the first. The other hand grasped a large black star against the pommel of the blade, chanting as dark crimson trickled from various places on it’s stricken body.

He finished, looked around at the damage he had caused and whistled before slowly sitting down in what remained of her mentor’s throne. A smile split his face like a madman, right eye nothing but a hollow red hole, his armour scuffed and chipped and several pieces missing and melted. He looked Twilight directly in the eye from across the room, a guilty grin still on his lips and, laughing slightly, he stood up. He groaned under his breath in pain before traversing the damaged room with the ease of an acrobat. He knelt before the disturbed princess, fear still showing clearly in her expression.

With a soft sigh, he offered his right hand towards her. She flinched away. He withdrew it quickly.
“I’m sorry about that little guard pony, I really am... want a sweet roll? And don’t worry about your friends, they’re perfectly safe... oh, and him? He isn’t dead.” He motioned with a sad smile towards the corpse behind him.

A crunch from behind him; he turned his head, but noticed too late the pair of gold-trimmed alabaster hooves flying directly towards his head.

Author's Note

I am sorry folks :pinkiehappy: there will be no wise cracking bad guy turned good guy and gets the mare, it isn't happening ever! :yay:

now a challenge for you if you are interested :rainbowwild: there is no prize its just for fun :raritydespair:: lets see if you can find out who my top 3 ponies are :ajsmug: but only one is a princess! (clues will be in the story) :twilightsmile: <-------<<< (this is not a clue)

Slight grammical modification to the previous version I hope you enjoy! :twilightsmile:

Chapter 2:- Of Actions and Reactions

I was once asked by a small child; “How can you see if you are blind?”

“That is easy.” I had replied, “I don’t need eyes to see, little one.” “How so?” She asked curiously, in the way that only small children can. “Well, when you have no sight, like me, your other senses dramatically improve to quite unexpected levels. Your fingers can be taught to read the finest imprints made through paper onto wood, your skin can be used to detect even the slightest change in air pressure and temperature, you can learn to hear the beat of a butterfly’s wings and the merest change in a person’s breath, and gain the ability to understand the difference between things by taste and smell alone. When you are blind, you lose your sight, but you will never truly lose your ability to see.” She pondered a moment, and then asked one last question, before getting shooed away by that annoying nanny of hers. Such a question I will never forget, one that both broke and mended my heart in an instant, and once again left me looking forward to what life can offer...

“What does dramatically mean?”

Chronicles of Fynn

Waking up in darkness was nothing new for me. After all, I spent every day within the darkness of my own lack of sight and it was nothing to be afraid of, it was, of course, only the absence of visible light. Several thoughts passed through my mind simultaneously, causing a wan smile to cross my features in defiance of the pain ringing around my head and the aching of a battle worn body... I mean, seriously! How often do you get kicked in the head by a talking horse?! Winterhold mages not included in that statement of course... but, there again, how often does one have to forcefully relocate from one realm to another, while hammering on the barriers of gods and not only once, but twice in the process? It left one feeling unimaginably drained, the same sensation as having your soul forcefully ripped from your body, leaving only a cold and empty void in its wake.

I sat up and felt around me. I touched cold stones, and then a corner leading up to a wall composed of more of the same cold stones. The stone was rough against my fingertips... wait? Fingertips?! My smile twisted to one of sick amusement at the state of my exposed body, and at whomever had removed my armour as I leaned back against the newly discovered wall. My fingers traced the scarred flesh on my chest; felt the sparse yet coarse hair that grew there pockmarked and crisscrossed with hideous amounts of scar tissue.

My hand continued its journey across my chest to my left shoulder, ignoring the old memories as scars passed beneath my fingers. They came upon fresh cloth bound around the shoulder joint, barely concealing the bloody hole torn through the flesh, a memento of the fight that had taken me to this world.

Not stopping there, I followed the muscle from my left shoulder down my arm, and took notice of several more fresh bindings that lead down to the prosthetic hand I had attached in the place of the previous one, lost centuries before. This, thankfully, had been left connected, unlike the rest of my armour, or even my undergarments.

Facts that should have been apparent were slow in arriving; the crystals within my remaining eye - the other now lost in the same skirmish that had punctured my shoulder - were dark, the artificial part of my arm, below the elbow was nonfunctioning and something was preventing my innate magic regenerating.

That moment, I heard the sound of several sets of hooves on stone trotting down the corridor outside my cell, muffled by a door of unknown material. Oh the memories! The last time I was stuck in jail on trumped up charges, I had held an emperor in my arms as he bled out onto a cold stone floor and was entrusted with one of, if not the most powerful Aedric artifact in existence... but nostalgia aside, judging by the angry snorts reverberating through the wall, this wasn’t going to end well. On the other hand, how often did stabbing someone, within the confines of someone else’s castle, and moments after destroying said owner of castle’s literal seat of power ever end well?

A loud clicking was heard from the door as a key was inserted and the lock was turned... this still wasn’t a new experience for me, though at this point in my life, not much was. At least that was the thought I had, before the telltale sounds of a rusty hinges betrayed the opening of the door...

...Unfortunately breaking the magical seal on the room, before I could brace myself against the sudden influx of returning power.

I bit down a scream as the sensation of liquid lightning spread throughout my nervous system, fizzing across my limbs as it sparked every nerve and caused every muscle to spasm, magic coursing through my flesh like blood into a depleted limb. It quickly overloaded the sensitive artifacts embedded in my body.

My power gradually stabilised as I slowly started to regain control, but for the implanted devices it had been too much. The crystals controlling the ebb and flow of natural magic were almost all irreversibly damaged. Within my remaining eye, only the small matrix hidden in the milky white orb twitched into life, sending impulses directly into my skull. Leaving me with nothing but the painful sensation of a small sun sitting in the disturbing confines of my head, and a pounding headache, to go along with the cold sweat coating my skin and matting my hair. My prosthetic hand wasn’t so lucky. It started to twitch painfully, pulling at the muscles and tendons as the little control shards overloaded, blown out with the unaccustomed amounts of energy freely pouring through its metal bindings. The casing fractured from the heat, and the shards shattered into grain sized pieces of molten metal, destroying the intricate workings of the faux hand.

In hindsight, it really wasn’t the best morning I have ever had. I mean... there was that one time I woke up strapped to a bed with three fleshless hounds, half a clown and a rotting flesh atronach draped over me... Although, right now my mortal body was in agony, and I was being imprisoned and overpowered by small colourful horses. My magic-enhanced sight slowly recovered, and standing above me was a dark blue pony snorting and neighing in a language I didn't understand; as my prosthetic hand slowly crumbled to dust, leaving only some stubborn metal remnants affixed to my forearm.

Then there was nothing, my magic once again vanished as if it had been drained away and my eye once again went black.

Positioning myself on my knees, I slowly felt around the floor, trying to find the door of the cell when my fingers brushed against a cool metal edge of a tray. Exploring further along the flat plate, my hands ran over what seemed like a cup of tall cup of sorts, and to the other side a stale loaf of bread, judging by the hard crust; some things, no matter what world they were in, were always the same.

And then nothing happened. At least not until I once again woke up to the angry snorts, neighs and the head-splitting pain again the next morning. Each day my eye overloaded and my arm ached, each day I was fed the steady diet of tepid water and stale bread.

Until my thirteenth day of incarceration. Then it all changed; like always, I was leaning against the far wall, as this time the door stood open, my one eye slowly adjusting to the surge in magic. Standing in the frame was what was to be expected, a pony of sorts, horn on its head and wings at its side. As my eye regained focus, I could make out further details like gender and surface emotions; a soft pink aura surrounded her body like that of a mother full of love, and reserved curiosity for the helpless creature in front of her. Alas, her presence alone was almost dwarfing that of the pony standing behind her, hard as ebony and as sturdy as the oldest oak, so protective with the undercurrent of aggression that only came with suppressed rage of a seasoned soldier. This once again brought a smile to my lips, despite the ache in my muscles.

Then the larger one started talking. As expected, I couldn't understand her but the expression of concern was evident on her face, an expression not worn by the white unicorn now beside her. My eye was now fully functional, finally able to pick out the minute details in his blue mane, the deepening scowl on his face at my widening smile. He turned and walked out of the door, turning his back and summoning the mare who had stopped trying to talk to me and only held a sad expression before turning away and walking out of the door with her companion. She turned her head, her horn glowed and a pink aura closed the door, this time not remaking the draining seal.

Shining Armour and Princess Cadence walked, disquieted, down the grey stone passageway leading out of the dungeon. Shining glanced at his wife. The stubborn look on her face motivated him to say something, anything to get her to stay away from the creature in the cell. “Cadence... you see!? That was pointless! not to mention dangerous... you saw the damage it did, what it almost did to Twi, I don’t know why you wanted to try and talk to it... it couldn’t even understand you anyway!”

“It deserves a chance to explain its actions, right? we can’t just lock it away without even trying to communicate, thats even worse! And as for not being able to understand me... well... maybe it got the feeling of my words?” she looked disheartened.

“Look. We saw what it did. Two of my soldiers died. Not to mention that other one of its kind, we haven’t even seen it since the day after the incident... how can something who did things like that be good?”

“Well, there you go. It is the only thing that knows what has been done to the other one, not even Twilight can figure it out! It’s the only one who knows what really happened. The one thing we do know is that it kept it alive... It can’t be all bad. We might even be able to save it. Isn’t that worth trying to talk?”

“... I guess. That may be true, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to trust it one bit. Its dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt...”

Cadence stepped over and butted him with her nose. “I’ll be fine. Just let me try. We haven’t even seen my aunt since, its the least I can do.”

Shining smiled. He nuzzled her back. “fine. Just be... on your guard. I don’t want to be scraping you off the dungeon floor... I hate cleaning.”

She laughed, and the two made their way down the passage once more.

Over the next several days, my magic increased and stabilized to relatively ‘normal’ levels, so to speak. Every day heralded the whinnies and neighs of my captors and the metal tray of food so graciously pushed into the room.

And every day, they came. The tall winged unicorn talking in her strange language, and the wingless one, always glaring at me. I didn't even need to open my eyes as I leant against the corner of the room, the dim torchlight of the hallway bleeding into my cell, but I did anyway. After all, it is rude to ignore guests, isn't it?

The cold stone pressed against my shoulders. I turned my head towards the pink one, opened my mouth slightly to say something then thought better of it. Instead i grinned and offered my hand towards her, palm down. This had two obvious effects. The first, and most obvious, was the tensing of the white unicorn, the second was the confusion in the pink pony’s eyes.

Now I must point out, with hindsight, I have no idea why I ever thought that my next actions could ever be considered a smart idea. With a grin that only widened as I turned my hand around, my palm now aimed at the ceiling, I snapped my fingers and cast a simple candlelight spell. The flame rose up from the centre of my hand and hovered in the still room. It pushed them over the edge. Even more so when I put my face through the light, and said quite clearly in Equish, “Peekaboo goes the bumble bee.”

I guess it is true what they say; you should never startle a horse. These words of wisdom I guess also apply to colourful intelligent ones as well, since their natural defences seem to consist solely of violently bucking at whatever happened to startle them. And with those slabs of muscle, laced across those extremely strong bones and those rock hard hooves, could you really blame me for blacking out as they connected once again with my head?

I at least got the last word, managing to squeeze out a quick “oh, bollocks” before my skull met forcefully with the stone floor.

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Do you know how many times I have been kicked in the head and face since I escaped jail for the first time? Three hundred and twenty seven times. From shoe-less beggars to knights with steel-clad boots, none have ever made me lose consciousness quite so quickly as those hooves. Sure, a concussion or two has gotten the better of me a few times; but then again, a mortal body, even one reinforced with the magic of a god, it is still a soft squishy thing made of flesh and bone and everything has its giving point. Mine is apparently talking horses. Talking horses with shoes, and more importantly, talking horses with shoes that currently have me under lock and key. This is not a going well for me, now is it?

Author's Note

Sorry this has taken so long, between a mixture of having property vandalized and broken into, my pushbike stolen and a 9 day case of sickness and diarrhea (which caused me to miss a job interview!) it has taken a while to write and polish!

Anyway enjoy :yay: C&C welcome