THE RIOTS OF BALTIMARE

THIRD ACT

“It’s often wondered how the Cult of Laughter is able to function. This wonderment comes from the most common perception of the Cult of Laughter, which is that of a disorganized rabble of crazed giggling maniacs without a sentient thought in their heads. If this was the case, then the Cult of Laughter would not be the threat that it was, and would be easily dispatched. As it is, while the members of the Cult of Laughter are indeed insane, they tend to be very, very good, at hiding it.

The first matter, of hiding insanity, is not so difficult as one might think. While true, much of the time members of the Cult of Laughter spend their time giggling, laughing, chuckling, and smiling wide, they do know how to put on a façade. In fact, many acting troupes seem to have joined with the Cult of Laughter, helping aid their spies and networks and even teach more Cult members to “act” normal. Even if there are abnormalities, these tend to get shrugged off, as most everypony is so caught up in their own lives that they don’t notice the ticks and signs that would suggest other ponies aren’t quite right in the head. Even ponies laughing obviously while trotting down the street might be taken for good friends, or a stumbling foul-smelling Laughing Dead taken for a drunk from a distance. The truth is it is much easier of the Cult to hide when it wants to than most ponies assume, which makes it all that much easier for the Cult to sneak in.

On the matter of recruitment, when the Cult of Laughter does show its true colors, it shows them happily. With smiles, laughter, parties, and games. The Cult of Laughter acts in such a way that ponies can forget there even is a war, or stop caring that there is one, getting caught up in the joy and wonderful laughter, the pure bliss of worshipping the Laughing Mare. This is often heavily contrasted against utter misery in the ponies lives, a misery that the Houses only help perpetuate.

For example, in Manehatten, the Undercity is a prime hub of Cult activity, because there the ponies are so poor and daily crushed by misery that madness seems preferable to the toiling joyless lives they typically lead. In Earthborn territories, the majority percentage of Cult members are dehorned Unicorns, who having lost their magic and parts of their most intimate selves search for something to fill the void, something that the angry and bigoted citizens of the Earthborn won’t provide, but the Cult will. Likewise, in the Moon and Stars territories, the most common Cult of Laughter members are slaves, both escaped and chained, especially those who have seen their Cutie-Marks removed. And that is only the barest bones of the matter, the Cult’s message applies to everypony in this time of crisis, as loved ones are lost and lives are ruined. The miserable masses are easy prey for the Cult’s wiles, and they are very much aware of this.

Another inaccurate view of the Cult of Laughter involves them being stupid and disorganized. This is one of the worst possible myths that ponies could embrace. While traditional insanity is debilitating, even in those cases the unfortunate insane are not necessarily unintelligent. The madness that the Cult of Laughter embraces while also debilitating, is debilitating in a spiritual manner, with an emotional detriment rather than a mental one. In short, the mad of the Cult of Laughter typically possess the level of intelligence they had before they became members of the Cult, even when they do not appear to have such.

As for disorganized, the Cult of Laughter is kept extremely well-informed by its messenger, the Bearer of Good News, a mysterious pony also known as the “Mad Prophet”. Considering the general state of the Cult of Laughter’s sanity somepony bearing this title is likely worth considerable study. The Prophets of the Cult also seem to be able to predict events with uncanny accuracy, and there are rumors of the Laughing Mare giving subtle hints and informative riddles to her chosen. Add this to the Cult having spies in every House, and the result is a discordant yet highly effective system of communication between the Cult cells and churches. The Cult of Laughter has been able to create supply lines, organize military actions, and corrupt cities in this manner. They are far from disorganized.

In short, the Cult of Laughter, despite its insanity and chaotic nature, acts as a single entity, connected through the powers that command them and the will that leads them. They are devoted, insane, and willing to do anything to further advance the will of the Laughing Mare. You can’t necessarily tell them on the street, and you could know one for years without ever knowing their true allegiance. And you could find yourself alone, desperate, hungry, miserable, and broken inside, walking up to their doors, and knocking, begging to be let into their order just to feel joy again, just so that you can be happy… And they’ll take you in with a hug and a smile, because every new convert is a boon to their Laughing Mare… every happy soul a tool to be used…

From The Scholars Notes

The inside of the tent was dimly lit… barely illuminated in the low light. Shadows collected inside of the tent, around the far edges, waxing and waning with the flickering low light of the waxy yellow candle, its wax dripping down the sides of the tarnished silver candlestick that held it. The sides of the tent were a dark purple, with red cloth patches sewn in over multiple tears in the materials. The floor of the tent was covered with red carpet; stained and plain, old and ragged, with faded gold lining at the edges, and just hints of dirty cobblestone slivering between the edges of the carpet and ends of the tent. A dull throng of noise sounded somewhere distant, laughing and chatting and the noises of hooves on stone, just barely able to be heard inside of the tent, mashed together and almost indiscernible.

The tarnished silver candlestick that held the only source of light within the tent rested upon a round wooden table, with scratches in the surface and one leg slightly crooked. The round table sat in the center of the tent, with balloons tied to each of its four legs, one white, one red, one yellow, and one pink, each of them with smiling faces drawn on in black marker. A wooden stool was pushed up to the table, and upon it was a pink cushion with gold frills at the sides, placed for somepony to plop her flank on. Beside the candlestick resting on the table’s surface was a small white ceramic plate, scooted up a little in the direction of the stool, with a single slice of cake upon it from a chocolate cake, with pink frosting across the top and one layer in the center, moist and fresh.

Against one side of the tent was a bed. With a dark wooden frame with multiple scratches and nails hammered into it for seemingly no reason, and a yellowing mattress with springs sticking out here and there, as well as fluff pooling out from tears in the mattress material. The bed was covered with a simple pink sheet, with a pink pillow at the head of the bed. On top of that, was a dark red blanket, and on top of that, was Sun Prancer.

She was snoring, very loudly actually, with her head on the pink pillow, her body stretched out across the bed, hind legs stretching off of it a bit, sticking over the edge. Her armor was still upon her body, which while not the most comfortable for sleeping was better than trying to put it on again after having it taken off. Her sword-belt was missing however… The iron-ball braided into her tail was still with her though, as were her steel hoof guards. Aside from her blade she was still fully armed and armored… her only weakness at the moment was that she was unconscious.

As Sun Prancer slept, the sound of a zipper being slowly pulled open came from the entrance to the tent… Then, the unzipped tent-flap opened as bringing bright light shining into the tent. The far off sounds of laughter and merriment could be heard a little clearer, as the head of a young colt with a dark blue coat, light-grey mane striped with a darker grey, and pretty blue eyes, poked its way into the tent.

The colt looked around quickly, then lifted his eyes up to the sleeping Sun Prancer, who had furrowed her brows in her sleep, and then turned over from the bed, ending her snoring and pulling herself into a tighter sleeping position, hooves moving up nearer to her head… The little colt watched her for a few moments, and then waited for her to start snoring softly… before padding his way into her tent quietly, a small chubby little thing with a tiny pair of wings on his back, a little tuft of a tail, and a blank flank.

He tiphoofed into the room softly, eyeing the sleeping Sun Prancer, then lifted his eyes up to the piece of cake sitting on the table. The little colt licked his lips… then turned his gaze to the stool, and slowly moved over towards it, gingerly reaching up with his right front hoof and pushing against the cushion. He brought his body up, kicking back against the carpet lightly, on top of the cushion on the stool, the cushion sliding a bit underneath him as he turned to face the table. His eyes were bright as he gaze longingly at the cake, moving his little hoofs up to the edge of the table, stretching up on his hind legs as he leaned forward, his tiny wings starting to flap rapidly as he reached out with a shaking hoof towards the cake, his eyes wide and tongue licking his lips as he stretched further and further, trying to get to that moist piece of cake, hoof just maybe a centimeter away from the plate.

WHISHK!

THUD!

The cushion slipped out from under the little colt’s hooves, and as his little legs scrambled for a hold beneath him he slipped backwards from the table, hitting the stool and knocking it over, landing on his flank on the carpet. Quickly he leapt up next to the falling stool, turning his head quickly to look up to the sleeping Sun Prancer, as her snoring stopped completely and she turned back over in the bed, wings stretching out and hooves coming down as she gritted her teeth, and her eyes seemed to squint as her brow furrowed.

The little colt quickly turned, tripped, and fell flat on his face onto the carpet. He scrambled quickly back up to his hooves, a panicked look on his chubby little face, and quickly ran through the tent flap, zipping out and leaving the opening open, as Sun Prancer’s eyes started to open themselves, blinking the dullness and daze away, as she sat up on the bed, bringing her front right hoof up to rub her head as she groaned lightly…

“Ughh…” She muttered, her head feeling fuzzy and weird on the inside. She shook her head a bit, and opened her eyes… And then her eyes snapped open and she leapt off the bed onto the floor. Her head moved down to her sword and-… and she clenched her teeth as she saw that her sword-belt was missing…

Sun Prancer straightened herself back up, and gulped down a lump in her throat, regaining her composure… Narrowing her eyes she looked around the inside of the tent with a rapid examining gaze, letting her eyes fall on the plate with the cake and fallen stool with cushion. She raised her right eyebrow slightly at that, and then turned her gaze away to the exit flap, brows furrowing. She swished her tail slightly, checking the weight to make sure the iron ball was still there before nodding slightly to herself, looking a bit relieved to confirm its presence.

Suddenly Sun Prancer furrowed her brows and cocked her head to the side, ears twitching slightly, as she listened to that noise creeping into her tent from a distance, trying to peg down what it was… Her eyes went wide, her pupils dilating, and sweat beginning rolling down her brow as she heard the laughter for what it was, the back of her skull starting to scratch like crazy, surrounded by laughter, so much laughter… And then the scratching began to morph into a kind of tickling, a feather gently teasing over the back of her skull, that made her want to kind of… smile a little.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head violently, growling out in anger and exasperation as she threw the tickling out of her brain, then opened her eyes and turned the glaring pair of golden orbs to the tent’s exit flap. She looked at the flap for a moment, then took a deep breathe in, and out slowly… before slowly stepping forward, past the fallen stool and cushion, completely ignoring the cake, and moving underneath the tent entrance, stepping out into the street…

The ruined and ragged buildings of The Derelicts, rose up on either side of Sun Prancer, their broken walls and windows barely covered with loose boards and cloth sheets, the ragged and battered structured standing ugly and sober in the light of the midday sun. Sun Prancer’s gaze moved quickly, and she was able to figure out soon enough that she was in the middle of the street. A street that’s dirty and broken cobblestone surface had been covered with multi-colored confetti. Paper strips of pink and yellow and blue, red and white and purple, were scattered all over the fragmented and rough cobblestone. In addition to this confetti she could see tents, all around her, shaped squareish bases that stretched up into pointed tops, unnecessarily tall, held by roped stakes driven into the to keep them steady.

The tents were multiple different colors, some bright yellow, some bright blue, many red, many others pink, some purple, and then some white. All of them were ragged, and covered with patches of cloth, different from their typical material, mixing multiple colors. Small steel hooks seemed to jut out from the tops of the tents lining the streets, and wrapped around these hooks were balloon strings, tied to balloons floating up above the tent. Some of the tents only had single balloons tied to their hooks, and others had a few balloons, but few or single every balloon had a smiling face drawn upon it in black marker. The balloons came in yellow, red, white, pink, purple, and blue, and never matched the tent or the patches they floated over, turning every ragged tent into a multi-colored spectacle.

Sun Prancer looked over this… weirdly ragged display of multi-colored merriment with distaste… It looked gaudy more than anything else. Her ears perked up as she heard a faint scrabble against the cobblestone from behind her, and she whirled around, head lowering and eyes glaring as she moved into a pouncing position, tail flicking up menacingly with the iron ball… and then she blinked as she looked into the eyes of the small chubby little colt, trembling in fear beneath her gaze, eyes wide as he stood on the cobblestone next to the tent.

“… Ummm… sorry.” Spoke Sun Prancer simply, before clearing her throat and straightening up, her own nervousness disappearing as she entered into Captain mode, and spoke quickly and gruffly.

“Where am I?” She asked, as the colt shivered, still somewhat intimidated by her earlier death-glare. She furrowed her brows.

“Answer when your elders speak to you young colt!” She barked, and the colt let out an “Eeep!” And dropped down to the cobblestone, bringing both his front hooves up to cover his head as his body shook.

“I’m sorry! The party stallion said not to disturb you! I just wanted the cake so bad! It looked so yummy and you hadn’t eaten it yet and I was waiting for so long and I was getting hungry and-and and please don’t hit me!” He spoke, his voice rapid as his little body shook.

Sun Prancer blinked, then sighed a bit, looking down and to the left as she scratched at the cobblestone anxiously with her right-front hoof. Now in addition to being in The Derelicts in Cult of Laughter territory she felt like a mule for making the little colt scared… She wasn’t good with foals…

“Umm, there, there, nopony’s going to hit you.” She spoke, before furrowing her brows picking up on something from the last part of the little colt’s plea.

“The, uh, “party stallion” sent you?” She asked looking down to the colt as he slowly lifted up his hooves from off his head, looking up to her with his wide eyes tearing up a bit.

“You’re… you’re not mad about the cake?” He asked, his little body still shaking.

“No, no, I’m not mad about it, now what’s this about a “party stallion”?” She asked, as the little colt slowly got back up to his shaking hooves.

“Y-you know, the stallion who throws all the b-big parties here? Some foals are afraid of him, some grown-ups to, b-but he’s really nice! He has parties, and-and games, and punch, and gives me cake!” Spoke the Little Colt as a pit formed in Sun Prancer’s stomach, listening to the Little Colt speak.

“H-he asked me to check up on you and l-let him know when you woke up!” Spoke the colt, before lowering his head down close the ground, casting doleful eyes up at Sun Prancer.

“And told me not to interrupt you while you were sleeping or, or eat the cake… but I was getting hungry and you were still asleep…” He muttered, his eyes looking downcast. Sun Prancer was motionless for a few moments, the cogs in her head whirling, and a cold rage building up inside of her… She knew the Cult of Laughter recruited everypony and anypony, but it never sunk in before that those freaks would start with foals this way… She breathed in deep, taking a calming breath, before lowering herself to look down to the little colt.

“Hey.” She spoke, directly and succinctly, the little colt lifting his head back up to look into her eyes.

“What’s your name?” she asked, and the little colt blinked once more, then gulped a bit and spoke.

“F-Frost Topping.” He spoke, and Sun Prancer nodded slightly, hardly surprised by the name, considering the conversation they’d just finished having.

“Frost Topping… why don’t you go ahead and have that cake? I’ll go ahead and let the… “party stallion” know I’m awake myself…” She spoke, a glint in her eyes…

“R-really!” Spoke Frost Topping, jumping up to his hooves his little tail wagging excitedly, his eyes bright and filled with joy, completely missing the glint that had been in Sun Prancer’s own orbs.

“Yeah, go ahead, knock yourself out…” She muttered, as she raised herself back up to her full height, and turned her gaze towards the laughter, still far off, hidden from her sight by the tents, somewhere down the street.

“I’ll go make sure he knows I’m awake…” She spoke, eyes furrowing as her voice became cold, a spark in her eye… as the little colt scrambled into the tent, not catching the ominous nature of Sun Prancer’s words at all as he pursued his quest for cake… and Sun Prancer, outside the tent, a frozen rage in her eyes, unfurled her wings…

…

Far down the street, past the ragged multi-color patchwork tents, a party was in full-swing… A party filled with little foals, colts and fillies, running around excitedly, partaking in the wonder and happiness of the joyous gathering, eating treats and playing games. As they did so mares and stallions, presumably their parents, shambled along behind them, slowly and stumbling, with shabby coats and dirty manes, wearing rags or nothing at all upon their bodies, giggling softly as they accompanied their foals.

Long wooden tables lined the sides of the streets, covered with baked goods, with pies, cakes, little chocolate cupcakes with pink frosting and red heart candies at the top, sweet breads, cookies of all kinds, most of them shaped into smiley faces. These baked goods were handed out to hungry foals as they came to the tables, attended to by ponies with wide grinning faces who were wearing ragged purple and red sewn clothing on their upper-bodies, with hoods pulled up over their heads that had twin cloth protrusions hanging down either side with brass bells, like jester hoods, jingling lightly as the grinning and giggling ponies gave out sweets to the foals…

In nearby buildings along the street ovens baked and fires roared, ponies wearing naught but aprons and smiles put pies and cookies and muffins and cakes into blazing ovens. Other ponies within the buildings kneaded dough at tables, still others mixed ingredients into pans and pots, others iced the cakes as they came from the ovens, large teams of ponies crafting the delicacies. As the goodies were finished, ponies carried the goods out to carts, pulled by grinning ponies with their faces painted white, lips and cheeks painted red, and mascara upon their lashes, little dark-purple jester hats resting on their heads with brass bells ringing, signaling their approach as they brought the edibles to the tables.

While the tables around the street were reserved for confections, the center of the street was pretty crowded as well, with games and frolic and merrymaking. One grinning pony handled a game of twister, spinning the arrow as the little foals tried to match their hooves, tails, and noses to the different parts, usually winding up collapsing into giggling piles at their attempts. Another grinning pony, wearing a bright red jester hat on her head with a face painted white and big red dots on both her cheeks along with red painted lips, stood balancing on top of a big yellow ball with a blue stripe, holding out her hooves with sticks upon them, plates spinning on top of the sticks, and finally an egg balancing on her nose, drawing many wondrous gazes from the foals. Another entertainer was contorting himself to the entertainment of the foals, and still another was playing ten instruments at once, banging away on drums and cymbals and a harmonica and an accordion, and various other musical contraptions.

Yet even with all the cakes and games and music to occupy the little foals attention, there was one figure that entranced them the most, one that the majority of the foals found themselves listening to, as they munched on pies and cookies, their ragged and dirt-covered parents and guardians standing a bit back, giggling and chuckling softly. This most important of attractions was near the end of the street, and as the little ponies laid on rugs and carpets brought out over the cobblestone as multi-colored and festive as the tents, they watched with their eyes wide, listened with smiles on their mouths, and took in every word that the deathly thin pony, with the weird smile and bright pink horn, sitting on a stool in front of them with his red and white cloth cloak falling down his back and to his sides, read from a purple-covered book spread open on his lap, hooves resting at either side of the book’s covers…

“And the little filly saw, a glllooooorrrriiiiiooouuuusssss rainbow! Stretching out over the sky! She had never seen such a thing before! This little filly Pinkie Pie!” Spoke the gaunt stallion with a smile, reading happily from the pages below. The huge Peppy lying down on the ground to the right of his master, no weapon in his mouth, a dreamy look on his face as he listened to the starving stallion with the Cult of Laughter Cutie Mark speak…

“The little Pinkie Pie watched with delight, as the colors spread across the sky! And she was filled with such joy in her heart, that she resolved to ever try, to spread that joy to each and every pony that she would ever meet! Every pony she saw, every pony she knew, and every pony she would ever greet!” Spoke the gaunt stallion, real passion coming from his voice as he read from the book, his horn glowing as it turned a page enveloped in a pink aura.

“The little fillie grew into a mare! And taught everypony to laugh and share! She threw great parties, and made everypone smile! And so things were wonderful, for a long long while.” Spoke the permanently grinning stallion, and then his voice went a little softer, a bit of sorrow creeping in as he continued.

“But the mare named Pinkie Pie was betrayed, by one Twilight Sparkle, who from the path of joy had strayed. She pulled our mare into sadness and woe, demanding from her a duty just so, that she would stay and become something new, to become one of the alicorn few. The mare named Pinkie Pie knew not what to say, believing that with a no she from duty would stray, and so she agreed, to try and transform, and in the act was killed before taking new form…” Spoke the stallion softly… before closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, then sighing out gently, coughing softly, shaking his head, and then continuing.

“She died there at the hooves of one she had befriended, by her will our Pinkie Pie’s life was ended. We wept for our mare, deceased and gone, but soon we found that her will was to go on. Her desire to spread joy was so strong, that the powers beyond worked to correct the great wrong. Her body was blessed, her will was spread, and our Laughing Mare came back from the dead.” The stallion stopped for a bit, leaning down and coughing lightly, then shaking his head, taking a breathe, and looking back up with a gentle smile to the little fillies and colts.

“And she told us of laughter, and she told us of joy! And of a great and wonderful ploy! That we were to spread, our joy far and wide, so that when she came everypony would know the right side! She told our prophets so that they would know, that she would come and it would be so! That she would bring eternal joy to our land, and that we would all join her merry band! Live or dead, we would happy be, with our Laughing Mare, for all eternity!” Spoke the grinning stallion, before pitching forward slightly, chuckling, his body shaking from joyful giggles, then shaking his head as he composed himself, sighing lightly, and sitting back up straight, looking to the book… then blinking a bit, furrowing his brow as he cocked his head to the side, seeming to listen for a moment, before looking up to the sky, noting a dark spot against the sun for a moment… Then sighing, and closing his eyes with a light chuckle, as he bowed his head and closed the book with his hooves.

“And I am afraid that that is all the time we have for now my little ponies.” He spoke, to the “Awwww”s of the foals around him.

“Don’t worry… we’ll, ‘cough cough’ pick this up again at our next party…” He spoke softly, before turning his gaze over to the overgrown Reveler at his side.

“Peppy.” He spoke, his voice clear and quick, causing Peppy to open his eyes and rise up to his hooves quickly, drool running down over the chain in his mouth, down his chin to the ground, as the colts and fillies slinked back over to their stumbling, staggering parents, still chuckling softly with their ragged coats.

“Transport, ‘cough cough’ if you, heheh, please.” Spoke the starving stallion, grinning a little wider. Peppy blinked in a lack of comprehension, then looked up… Then went wide eyed, grabbed the starving stallion in his hooves, wrapping the frail and thin pony against his own massive form, and leapt back as-

WWHHHAAAMMMM!!!

CRACK!!!

The stool split apart into a thousand splinters every which way. The cobblestone beneath it came flying up and about in a cloud of dust as something from above struck the spot with raging force… Several little colts coughed from the dust, scrambling to hide from the scary cloud behind the still giggling parents and guardians, who in turn moved in front of their colts and fillies, stumbling slightly.

The dust cleared to show Sun Prancer, tail flicking with the iron-ball ready, wings spread wide, body lowered in position to pounce, turned already to look towards where Peppy had landed on his back, holding the starving stallion in his hooves.

“Hey. Grinning Geld…” Spoke Sun Prancer, iron ball glinting as a few errant rays of sun caught the metal, her eyes narrowed as she looked to the starving pony clutched in Peppy’s hooves, the starved pony turning his gaze to look over his shoulder to Sun Prancer, his eyes sparking with excitement.

“Like you said…” Spoke Sun Prancer, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted hard.

“We’ve got some BUCKING CATCHING UP to do…”

Author's Note

This chapter kicked my rear front and back. I had a lot of trouble making it go where I wanted, and I'm still not sure it's gotten there, so if it's off or choppier than others than I apologize. I hope it entertains nonetheless.