Jump to content

The Coltaran Chronicles: Chapter 1, Dark Moon Rising [Coltara] (OPEN)


Valencetiger

Recommended Posts

Silvan stared at the stallion quietly, his face completely blank. After listening to the words, he grew steadily more and more angry on the inside, a small fire sparking in his eyes. How...how dare this, insolent, idiotic, pathetic unicorn speak of him that way?! How dare he insult his name, and that of his father and brother! How dare he! Feeling the rage burning inside his belly, it took every ounce of strength he had to keep himself from summoning his Aishanidari blades and slitting the venomous fiend's throat, and cutting out his tongue...! However, the training he had received in the palace allowed him to keep perfect composure. Silvertongue simply looked around the inn, leaning close to Dusk and whispering quietly.

"I would keep that Anti-Imperial sentiment out of prying ears...you never know if an agent from the Hoof of Dragora is nearby of not. Saying things like that near one of them is a quick and easy way to get yourself thrown in the Tower of Midnight...understand? You should be more careful."

Silvertongue leaned back in his seat and waited for the careless pony's response.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Gallows was still attempting to work out what exactly was wrong with the waitress, putting all his focus on the task, so he just sat back and let Silvertongue talk with the hatted stallion. If his name was any indication the old fellow would be much better at it than him anyway.

As the conversation continued Silvan returned and Gallows relented on his earlier personal comment. Things hadn't go terribly wrong without Silvan there to keep Silvertongue from violence. At the very least things didn't seem to have escalated in any way. "...I see that Grandfather must be picking up another worker. I'll leave you two to that, then..." Grandfather? What was the kid talking about? ...Oh... The gravedigger smiled; that was kinda clever. It also meant he could probably get away with calling Silver 'grandpa'. Oh what cruel joy!

The majority of the gravedigger's attention was still on the waitress, until of course, Dusk began to rant and rage against the Blood. Knowing that the ex-prince himself was literally sitting right next to him he had to fight not to giggle at the hole Dusk was digging himself into. He covered his mouth with a hoof, pretending to wipe something off his face while snickering quietly. He glanced to the side and saw the look in Silvan's eyes. He cleared his throat lightly and put his hoof down, no longer having to fight to keep his face straight. This must be really cutting the kid deep. But he was accustomed to talk like this it seemed, if the evenhoofed way he handled it was any indication.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

After a few moments, SIlvertongue stood up, as did Silvan. Turning to Dusk and Gallows, Silvertongue began to speak.

"Gentlecolts...meet me and my grandson at the exit of the village at noon. There, we will begin our ascent of the Howling Mountain. Understand?"

Without even waiting for their responses, the two of them simply walked away, exiting the inn and going out to buy supplies. Hours later, they would be waiting at the village exit, Silvan going through his magic satchel to make sure that everything was there that he needed. Silvertongue simply sat on the dirt road, a small grain stem in his mouth as he looked at the clouds above.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Gallows gave the older stallion what he hoped at least something like a salute, "Aye-aye, grandad." Oh, he was going to have fun with this. Having nothing to say to Dusk at the moment, he got up from the table, wondering absently where his damned cider had gotten off to. Oh well, just another vague mystery that would probably never be solved to be connected with the strange waitress.

He left the inn a few steps after Silvan and Silver, but instead of heading for a shop, headed off toward the cemetery with a smug, expectant grin on his face.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

“Be more careful, you say? The Tower of Midnight, you say? I could care less, but if I’m making you uncomfortable, gramps, fine” he shrugged, then took another swig from his mug. “So, you need a guide to the top of the mountain, eh? Alright, I’ll see what I can do to help” he finished off with another swig of mead. He set his drink back down and smiled at the others around his table. In short order, he was smiling at nopony, the others having left the inn for some reason or another. He let the smile slide off his face. Talking about the Blood had put him in a bad mood. Slugging the last of his mead, he placed his hat back on his head, left the mug, and walked out of the inn himself.

He looked up and down the street. “I’ve got nothing better to do” he whispered to himself, and started off in a random direction. He passed run down shops, old houses that might have had paint on them once, and many ponies with downcast eyes. Dusk ignored them to the best of his abilities, which was rather hard since they were everywhere. Finally tired of the outside of the town, he ducked into a shop. Without any sign of ever being painted, the shop inside was about as gray as the outside. The shop owner looked bored, leaning against the counter next to the cash register. The shop was apparently selling tools, shovels, hoes, rakes, axes, and more, most of it old and rusty. The shop owner glanced at Dusk, then continued his bored observation of the wall across from him. Dusk started glancing at the barrels containing the tools, glancing at this and that, not really intending to buy anything.

After nearly walking around the entire room, he stopped at one of the barrels. There was a shovel, a rake, and something that looked like a pickaxe with a hammer opposite of the pick. The hammer was a dark bronze color, and the pick was colored grey, merging together and seeming to be one solid piece. The pick/hammer head was attached to a dark wood handle. He pulled it out, admiring the item. The base of the hammer was wrapped in nearly black leather, with a metal socket the same bronze color as the hammer head, supposedly to hold an ornament of some kind, although it was empty now.

“Well, well, what are you doing here, my beauty?” Dusk said to the pickhammer. He tucked it under the strap of his saddle bag and looked back in the barrel. Digging deep down into it, he found a chain, which, once he pulled it out, turned out to be a pair of chains connected to shackles. He hefted these in one hoof, and started thinking. With a smile, he took the chains with shackles, and the pickhammer, and went over to the shop owner. He placed the items on the counter, startling the owner out of a sleep he had entered, and said “How much?”

The shop owner stared at Dusk for a second, then shook himself and looked at the items. “Oh, um, a silver mark for all of it, I suppose.” Dusk bit his lip, but dug out the coin anyway. He handed it to the owner, who pulled the lever on the register and deposited the coin into the device. Dusk gathered up the chains and shackles, stuffed them into his saddlebag, and placed the pickhammer through the belt on the other saddlebag. He stepped back out into the street, smiling his normal smile.

After a few hours of wondering the town, looking at this and that, trying to earn a coin when possible, and pretty much doing nothing until noon, he walked out of the town on the road leading to the mountains. His coin pouch was disappointingly lighter. He had stopped at a blacksmith and had paid to have the chains on the shackles lengthened by a yard or so. With most of his money gone, he was looking forward to getting this job over with, hoping to refill his money pouch as soon as possible. Spotting the merchant and the younger pony, He smiled and trotted over to them. “Hello gramps, and the young one, ready to start this trek up the mountain?” he said in a cheerful voice. His head flopped to the side for a second, and he seemed to be listening to something. When he righted his head, he was chuckling. “Heh, oh, by the way, where is you dirty, smelly friend?” he asked the pair.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Soul Slasher watched the party from the shadows as they prepared for their trip. This Silvan seemed to have gathered a group of attentive ponies, this was good for the young princes goal. The old man was a hardened warrior, the way he carried himself and the pride put he put behind each step told of years of service. The dirty pony seemed quite useless to Soul, but he did have an eye. Soul noticed when he looked at Sweet Taffy as if trying to point out a flaw where ever it maybe. Finally there was the Unicorn, he had seen Sweet Taffy flip the letter to Silvan, that was not expected, one would have to have very trained eyes to notice such an effortless move. Silvan didn't drag fools along with him, no.

That, however, made Soul's job much more difficult. He would have to be careful with his moves around these ponies one slip up and he would be outed, ruining any chance of him leaving this crappy place. Hopefully he won't have to do anything though.

The group started to converge at the dirt road out side of town. Might as well meet everypony now. Soul stepped out of seemingly nowhere right at Silvan's side, like the first time when he confronted the exiled prince.

"I trust that you are prepared for this journey, Silvan." He said calmly as if he'd been there the entire time.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Silvan glanced at the deadly stallion, his face blank. This...pony...was quite skilled, it seemed. Few ponies could sneak up on Silvan in such a way, and the fact that this one just did was...unnerving. After a moment, he'd look back at this Dusk character...he was still very, very angry at what this insolent peasant had said about him, his father, and his brother! Why, he'd be the first pony to kill and not feel remorse...that he was sure of. Despite his urges to run the unicorn through, he knew that they needed a guide up the Howling Mountain so they could get to the Sanctuary without any needless trouble.

"Yes...thank you for asking, Soul." He replied quietly, turning away from all three of them and gazing up at the mountain above.

"By the way, Dusk...I hope you'll keep that tongue of yours in check while we climb this mountain. I'm afraid my Nightingale here deceived you about who we are. Knowing your anti-sentiment towards the Blood, I thought I might as well tell you who exactly you will be helping here. If you decide to still come along...you will be helping not only a member of the Blood...but of the Imperial Family. Are you sure you want to help the Former Prince of Ravens...considering your unfair and biased views against me?"

Silvertongue blinked in astonishment at what Silvan was saying. Why was he doing this?! Surely, after seeing the way Dusk here had spoken about him at the Inn, he would expect an attack of some sort from the strange pony. No...something was up here. Silvan wouldn't make a choice like this without a good reason...but what was that reason? He stared at the former prince, and then at Dusk, waiting to see what he would do. Silvertongue sighed inwardly, for his charge always knew how to set him on edge.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

High noon. The socially accepted time for breaks, mexican standoffs, and lunch. Alas, it seemed Gallows wouldn't be doing any of those things. Lunch would have to wait because they were setting off for the mountain, completely negating the chance of a break, and the nonexistance of any sort of gunpowder whatsoever made mexican standoffs a complete impossibility no matter what time of day it was. In retrospect this last point was probably a blessing for the gravedigger's health.

That did not, however, mean that Gallow's was unscathed following the few hours of waiting to begin the group's ascent. He approached the group in question from the direction of the cemetery with four new things about him, three of which on his face. On his face now rested a black eye, a split upper lip, and a broad smile of triumph and satisfaction, while jutting from his saddlebags, alongside the handle of his shovel and the handle of an as of yet unseen tool, rested a dark oak staff about four feet long with three runes etched in a ring around the top of it. Behind him Odd One was nursing a bruised rib and shouting after him angrily. No words could be discerned though.

He sat on his haunches beside Silvertongue and grinned at the party, gingerly licking blood off his lower lip, "Afternoon gents. How's everypony... doing....... uh......... Silvan............ I-Is that, who I'm afraid it is?" Gallows was quick to notice Soul Slasher had joined their posse, but slow to process the impossible fact, taking a good fifteen seconds to finish his sentence. Remembering the events of last night the gravedigger's smile died a slow, agonizing death as he cautiously inched back and over to hide behind Silvertongue.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Interesting, you companion seems to be afraid of me." He said chuckling quietly into a hoof. He looked around Silvan to the pony cowering behind Silvertongue. Soul stepped from beside the prince and trotted up to the older stallion.

"Sirs," he said as he entered into a deep bow. "I am Soul Slasher, I'll be accompanying you on this trip." He said as he extended a hoof out to Silvertongue and Gallows.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Silvertongue extended his own hoof out to Soul, nodding. "I am Silvertongue...it is good to meet you, I suppose." He wondered where Silvan had found this individual...but he knew that he would have to keep an eye on this one. Something didn't seem right about him...something dark. Well...he supposed anypony with a name like 'Soul Slasher' would set most ponies' nerves off.

"...follow once you all have made your introductions...I'll be going on ahead." Silvan called behind him, advancing in the direction of the mountain. With a sigh, Silvertongue followed along swiftly.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Dusk jabbed a hoof at Silvan. “Hah! I knew it! I knew you were one of the Blood.” Dusk’s face now bore a wide grin of triumph. He let his hoof fall back to the ground and his smile grew only slightly smaller. “Now, you wish me to keep my tongue in check? My words, they offend you? Well, get used to it, I change for no one” as he spoke, his smile faded, and his voice turned flat. “Now, most of the things I heard about you are rumors, and since I’ll be traveling with you, mayhaps you can prove otherwise” he sounded doubtful, “And understand, I’ll go as far as you pay me to, not one step further, not one step less.” Once he finished with the prince, he turned to the other ponies who had shown up. “So, our dirty, smelly friend has arrived, and the other one who I didn’t even know about” he smiled at both of them, holding out his hoof to them. “I’m Dusk Umbrosa Verenae” he said to them.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Silvan stopped a little ways off, watching the three stallions speak with one another in the distance, not hearing what they were saying. An odd little group they've become. Yes...yes, they have. Silvertongue approached and looked back at them as well, a look of straight distrust on his face.

"...I see you recruited Honor Bound's son. Where...or I should say, when...did you meet him? I heard that he is a master of disguise...and a deadly assassin." Silvertongue's eyes went back to his charge, who had a mysterious, knowing smile on his face. Ever since the Exile...his young liege had changed. Dramatically changed, in fact...he was no longer the small, innocent colt he had partially raised. What had those dreams of his done to him? Well...it did not matter. Silvan was as much like a nephew to him as his charge, so he would lay his life down if it meant keeping Silvan safe.

"...I will need strong ponies when we arrive in that strange world, Silvertongue...while I know nothing of this Dusk character yet, I can tell he has a strong amount of magical power. Whether he is insane or will soon go insane is unimportant...at least for now. As for Gallows, he has an incredible eye for detail, and I need him to control that Ro'Maga. And about Soul...he is joining to repay me." Silvan kept the encounter he had with the reaper pony last night a secret...Silvertongue had no need to know what occurred. It would be pointless for Silvertongue to be overly worried about the rogue...and besides, he hated being treated like a foal.

(OOC: By the way, guys...when we reach 100 posts on this thread, I'll release a special surprise :) I'll do the same with the Equestrian side as well.)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Gallows stared nervously after Silvertongue as his only source of cover between him and Silvan's would-be assassin trotted away. Mayhaps poking fun at the Nightingale had been a worse idea than he'd imagined. Now he was left alone with Soul Slasher And Dusk Umbra... Umbro... Soul Slasher and Dusk. Neither of the two looked particularly friendly, and had proven themselves to be quite the opposite in the short time he'd known they existed. Still, if he was going to be traveling in close company with them, might as well attempt to get on their good sides. That way when one or both of them went berserk and killed them all they might hesitate long enough for him to escape.

"So... I'm Gallows." He really had no idea what to add to that, then he had a thought and looked at Soul Slasher shrewdly, or as shrewdly as he could while still trying to avoid any eye contact whatsoever. There was something very wrong about the pegasus. Every time Gallows looked at him something seemed to twitch just out of sight and his ankle would go cold, the one he always wore the bracelet on. "I think I missed that part of the story. How did you meet Silvan again, Slasher?"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Soul realized that he was intimidating gallows, while intimidation was a part of what he did it wasn't something he liked to bring into social situations unless his job called for it. Soul took off his hood and rustled his beige mane a little to loosen the matted locks.

"Sorry if I looked a little scary," He said as he rubbed a hoof awkwardly across the back of his head. "I saw Silvan in the lobby of the inn the other day, and was curious why the Prince of Ravens was roaming about in such a place. Later that night I asked him about it, and as payment for the information I agreed to come on this journey with him." He stated in a matter of fact kind of way. "Oh and please call me Soul, Slasher doesn't sound very..um approachable." he said softly.

Soul looked over his shoulder and saw that Silvertongue and Silvan had started to walk off without them. "Apparently the the young lord is quite impatient today." He said playfully. "Well gentlecolts, since Silvan is on the move so am I." He trotted after the young prince and his guard, brushing past Dusk on the way. Soul didn't trust the unicorn at all, he tried to put the thoughts to the side, but he had been conditioned to believe that all unicorns were either ticking time bombs waiting to go off or just Rahmane to be wielded. Everytime he thought that truth dispelled it returned to bite him in the flank.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

(OOC: Ooooh, mysterious :-o)

Gallows squinted at Soul. He was acting amiable enough. He grunted, "Hmm, is that so?" He hadn't really expected the pegasus to mention the previous night's confusing duel, but it still solidified his suspiscions in the gravedigger's mind. There was something going on here and both Silvan and Soul were privvy to it. He never liked the secritive nature of nobles and the like. He'd have to weedle it out of either of them somehow.

For now though, it seemed they were finally setting off. He followed behind Soul, not liking the idea of having him at his back, and whistled at Dusk, "Hey! Buddy! You're supposed to be the guide. Get up there and guide already!" All this social interaction had left him in a sour mood, negating the positive effects of his earlier squabble with Odd One. The little grave keeper had called him a cheater and Gallows was forced to physically remove his prize from the premises.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Once again, Dusk found himself smiling at nothing, his hoof held out to, nothing. He brought his hoof down and started after the others, his smile replaced with a frown. He tilted his head slightly towards the head of the pickhammer. “Hmph, you see that? I’m the one who’s supposed to get them up this mountain, and they don’t even look at me. How can I even be sure this lot will even pay me when we’re done? They’ll probably get to the top of the mountain, and then gramps there, or maybe that Soul Slush guy, will crack me on the head, and leave me to freeze to death. No doubt that’s the little imperial’s plan. They’ll expect me to do all kinds of work, and when it comes time for them to pay, they’ll order my head cut off. Well, we’ll show them” he swore, and only then did he realize he had caught up to, and was currently walking right next to, Silvan and his Nightingale.

Dusk turned his head and grinned at the pair, acting like nothing had happened. “Well, I guess this is the start of our journey up the mountain. I hope you brought lots of warm clothes and blankets, it’ll get pretty cold as we go further up” he said conversationally. “Now, before we get too far up the mountain, I’d like to discuss a little thing that’s been itching the back of my skull. Payment. How much of your gold are you willing to part with, oh great, imperial majesty?” he started with a business like voice, and ended in a mocking tone.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Silvan glanced at the unicorn from the side, disapproval welling up inside him. He liked unicorns...why, he once loved one...he never held the same prejudices of them as the other nobles had, but Dusk here...Dusk here may be the first unicorn he truly disliked. Trying to remain civil, he nodded at the unicorn.

"Please, Master Dusk...call me Silvan. There is no need to address me by any title, nor would I want you to. For the cold, I've come well prepared, for all five of us." He pulled out five reddish hoof-bands which glowed with an orange aura. "Fire-bands, they'll keep us nice and warm throughout our entire trip. As for your payment...how does fifty gold marks up the mountain, and then another fifty once we are back down? Does that suit you, Master Dusk?"

Silvertongue grunted at the price, but silenced himself quickly. Curse the young Prince...! Even with the assortment of Maga they have, that price was ridiculous for only a simple guide! Especially for a guide who was insulting Silvan every few sentences.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

“Don’t call me master. I am no one’s master but my own, and I wouldn’t even use the term then. Dusk is my name, and that is what you, or anypony else will call me” he had a slight edge on his voice. He had never liked the word 'master'. “Now, yes, one-hundred gold marks sound fantastic. Quite generous, actually, especially considering where you came from” he said blandly. He eyed the guard when he grunted, then turned his attention back to Silvan. “We just keep heading along this path, for now. I trust you will decide when we stop to make camp, and when we get up?” he asked Silvan.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Of course...please, lead on, Dusk." Silvan replied rather coldly. Why, this pony was quite uncivil...and if things kept going like this, Silvan would be pulling his mane out! Silvertongue simply sighed behind his young charge, picking up one of his sacks as he motioned to Gallows and Soul to follow along. It took them a couple of hours to reach the base of the mountain, and after a small break, they climbed the mountain path until coming across a built-in clearing, Silvan making the call to set up camp there as the sun began to drop down. As Silvertongue began to set up the tents and fire, Silvan distributed the Qai'Maga he had been carrying, the Fire-bands that will keep them all warm through the night and as they made their ascent up the mountain. Once the entire camp was settled, Silvan hid himself away in his tent, while Silvertongue laid outside on his back, gazing at the stars above, the Fire-band on his right frontal leg keeping him as cozy as any blanket would.

"...it is so nice to look at the stars...back in Ashen Gate, all the city's lights made the sky completely black. This was something I had missed, all those years ago..." His voice was strained with a certain longing. What he was longing for, even he couldn't tell. His life, his destiny, had been to serve among the Nightingales...to serve his young master. But, after the past few days, he began to question what he had done during that time. He had seen many atrocities occur under the hooves of a couple Emperors...Silvan's grandfather was the worst, while his father only did what was necessary. In fact...now that he recalled it, he remembered seeing the former Emperor weep when he ordered a pony's execution, while the Emperor before him had laughed in glee as the lives of ponies ended before him. Just remembering that face was...horrifying. At least Obsidius III was in Tartarus...suffering as he had made others suffer, while his own son had gone to the stars above with Astral Magus. The sad memory of his best friend's funeral often brought tears to his eyes, but this time...it made him smile. Not because of the noble pegasus' death, but because of what he had left behind. Glancing at Silvan's tent, his smile grew. Yes...he had made the right choice. Sitting up, he poked at the flames with a stick, keeping the source of light going. Wanting to make a conversation, he looked at the other ponies.

"So...what are your dreams? Any hopes for the future you'd like to share? Please don't say that you haven't got a dream...because I don't like liars." Offering a friendly smile, he waited for an answer.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Gallows almost tripped and fell on his face at the amount Silvan promised to pay Dusk. He stifled a shout of indignation, but not well. It came out as a high pitched, pained grunt. How in Coltara could anyone justify giving that... unicorn, twice Gallows' yearly wages!? He was rude, snobbish, and downright unpleasent. If they didn't need him as a guide the gravedigger would have gleefully taken him on as a customer.

The first leg of their journey was uneventful in most respects. Gallows kept to himself for the most part, though his mood did improve somewhat as they climbed higher. The cooling air reminded him of his home cemetery's misty chill, raising his spirits, and he began to see the payment situation in a new light as he thought. If a lowly unicorn was getting a lord's ransom in gold for just being a guide, then how much more would he get for performing some more specialized assistance? That idea alone put an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

By the time they reached the clearing at sunset the air had cooled past anything Gallows had ever experienced in the cemetery. He really wished he'd thought to bring a coat, but it seemed Silvan had thought ahead and brought... "Bracelets," He muttered, holding his with the edge of his hoof and raising an eyebrow at it, "What good is this? A bracelet can't do-" He remembered what was safely stored in the bottom of his pack and stopped mid-sentence. He chewed his lip, then grinned and laughed at himself, "Ha! Nevermind then." He strapped it to his ankle and was surprised when a wave of warmth creapt through him, "Huh. Well isn't that something." He wiggled his leg in front of him for a moment, watching the band start to glow a faint red-orange.

About a half hour later he yawned cavernously as he lay on his back a few feet away from Silvertongue. He'd been offered a tent, but even back when he'd had his cabin in the cemetery he'd usually prefered to sleep outside, more often than not in one of his freshly dug graves. "...it is so nice to look at the stars...back in Ashen Gate, all the city's lights made the sky completely black. This was something I had missed, all those years ago..."

Gallows nodded, then considered now might be a good time to try getting on Silver's good side, "The mist always covered up the stars back at Coltan's Rest. Last time I saw the stars was back at Coaldust... Where my... relatives, and I, used to live."

"So...what are your dreams? Any hopes for the future you'd like to share? Please don't say that you haven't got a dream...because I don't like liars."

Gallows chewed his lip, staring up at the sky, "I always wanted to go to Riptide Bay," he said wistfully, "Distant lands, adventure, freedom," He smirked, "Not to mention the salty wenches. Sounds like a great place to me."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Soul had followed silently the entire way, keeping pace with the steady strides of Dusk, Silvan, and Silvertongue. Occasionally he looked around and scanned his surroundings to take in all of the elements around him, not out of paranoia of some unforeseen attack, but instead for land marking. Unlike most training killers and shady assassins Soul refused to live his life looking over his shoulders, despite the past that trailed behind him; however, should the need to fight present itself it would be ready.

Nothing particularly interesting occurred during the walk up the mountain. As they continued to ascend the air began to chill, the icy air washed over Souls face and made him feel comfortable, at home even. This cold environment suited him he believed - frozen, with no warmth, a place where heat was a commodity to be fought over and those not prepared to fight for the fires that warmed them would lose those life giving infernos, their would hearts to freeze over and stop beating, leaving them lifeless in an infinite tundra.

Soul continued to walk, his mind consumed by thought. He watched his breath rise from from his mouth and nostrils and out of his hood until it dissipated into the air. This place was so cold, yet something warmed him something, the fire in him, though nothing more then a single glowing ember was still strong. And it felt as if it were growing.

Their pace started to slow and Soul figured that the group had decided to make camp for the night, Soul could've gone one for another six maybe seven hours, but that wasn't even remotely in the ballpark of normal endurance. Silvan handed him a Fire-Brand, Soul instantly knowing what it was didn't bother to question the bracelet, he slipped it on over his body suit and let it set above his fetlock.

"Thank you." He said softly. Now he had actual physical warmth to accompany his spiritual embers.

After staring out at nothing for nearly half an hour, Soul decided that he should probably join the others near the fire. It did nopony any good for him to be all mysterious, It definitely didn't help him. Soul trotted up and took a place close to the fire, he heard the ponies around him sharing their goals and aspirations for the future. Gallows talked about going to Riptide Bay, for freedom and adventure, and mares. Soul chuckled a little, knowing that Gallows was not kidding about the wenches. He cleared his throat and laughed a little at what he was about to do.

"My dream was to have my father not look at me like I was worthless trash, and for I while I thought I had that..." He smiled wicked under his hood. "Everypony versed in what happened during the Rebellions should know what happened during me and my Father Honor Bound." He looked away into the sky and sighed. "Now I don't know, there was I time where I thought I could be still and have a family, be a better stallion than that monster I called a father, but I failed just as spectacularly as he did." His eyes glowed gold, they pierced through the shadow if his hood. "I guess I just want to leave this place, put it all behind me, but no place seems far enough away."

Soul could count the number of ponies he had opened up to like this on a single hoof. Why now of all times had chosen to open up to these ponies? Why did it make him feel so - urgh! He didn't how what he was feeling, he'd like to believe it was camaraderie, but what he learned about the subject from his time in service was that camaraderie means to watch your so called friend and battle brother be killed before your eyes and offer no objection.

Soul's feelings confused him, and in a fit of anger he stormed off from the camp. After a few minutes of walking he entered a thick expanse of trees and started to stare at the stars. There was a time when the twinkling lights made him think of all the beauty in the world and how expansive the glory of pony kind had been, he even one day believe that ponies could reach the stars; Now all the stars reminded him of were sparse lights of hope in an endless void of atrocity. He'd seen it all first hoof, and committed many of them himself. But now there were also more immediate thoughts that muddied his perspective. Silvan, the trustworthy young prince with dreams of another world, should he trust this stallion's words and follow him based on the chance that he might be liberated from this world? No, not trust, trust meant betrayal in Soul's mind and he would not be betrayed. His father betrayed him, his brothers in arms betrayed him, and the entire empire betrayed him, but he had felt Silvan's heart and soul and knew that the pony was sincere. Then there was the rest of the motley crew, whom he had shared a little of himself with, were they comrades? No, he fought alone, he would never expect help from anypony ever again. He didn't need, friends, comrades, he needed, no pony...then why did he feel so lonely, and why did being in this group make him feel so warm?

Nothing added up to him! He wanted to change back into Sweet Taffy and just fly back down the mountain and forget all of this. Everything was so much easier as Taffy.

"RAWRRRGGHH!!" He yelled, his voice charged with anger and his eyes shining with magic. Soul summoned his Aishanidari and lashed out at the trees around him. He turned his scythe ethereal and plunged it into the trunk of the nearest tree causing it to immediately dry up and die, he returned his weapon to the mortal plane of existence and ripped it from the decaying wood cause the tree to tumble over. His next target felt the wrath of a scythes ranged capabilities, Soul sent a green and black cloud of otherworldly death at the tree, the pestilence consumed every part of the wood it came into contact with leaving nothing more then a large pile of dust. Soul turned to another tree, fury burning uncontrollably in his eyes. He pointed Necrosa Timori at the offending plant causing smoking ghostly chains to wrap around the trees trunk and pull in opposing directions. The trunk cracked and shuddered but it wouldn't come down. Soul summoned the spirit of the owner of the chains to his side, a young unicorn filly, and had her to help him pull. The tree snapped like a twig from the added strength of the spirit. He looked at the phantasmal visage of the filly and feel to the forest ground, he had pushed his powers far and the only thing keeping him standing was anger, the that anger instantly removed by the smiling face of the filly he had nothing to fight the fatigue. He could fight it no longer, he curled up in a ball in his nearly created clearing and stroked his tail softly.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Silvertongue laughed and patted Gallows on the back, understanding the young stallion's dream. Ah...adventure...Silvertongue had lived enough with "adventure" to know that she was a cruel mistress, and often didn't repay her lover. Listening to Soul, he understood the pegasus' internal strife, for he had been through something similar...if in a more revolting way. While Soul had killed his father out of revenge and a feeling of betrayal...what he himself had done was beyond it. When he was still a young stallion, he was of a noble house among the High Blood. However, fate decided to play a cruel joke on him.

He was challenged to a duel by a mysterious pony one day, who was dressed in black. Knowing that he had to defend his honor as both of the High Blood and a weaponmaster, he had to confront the challenger. After a long struggle, Silvertongue had emerged the victor...and murdered a member of the Imperial Family. Shocked by what he had done, he gave himself up to the Emperor then to be punished. His punishment...was to become a Nightingale. Now, many would not consider this a punishment, until they are told what the prerequisite for becoming a Nightingale was. In order to become a Nightingale, one had to murder a selected group of ponies in front of the Emperor himself, to show their devotion to His Highness. Silvertongue, having been a veteran of war, didn't consider it a challenge to him. When the three ponies were brought before him with their heads and bodies covered. He struck with little emotion, barring away his conscience, feeling his Aishanidari cut through the three with ease. Once done, he turned to the Emperor and bowed, who only grinned maliciously. The cruel pegasus pointed with his red-painted hoof in the direction of the corpses, as the clothing was removed from them. Staring at the three in horror, Silvertongue darted over to them, going onto his knees as he held the smallest of the three in his arms, weeping harder than he ever had in his life...for the three he had just slaughtered...were his own family. His mother, his father, and his younger sister...all laid dead, by his own hooves.

Silvertongue shook his head, awaking himself from the memory as Soul stormed out of the camp. Sighing, he rubbed the back of his head with one of his hooves, and laid back down. Little did he know, however, that Silvan had sneaked out of his tent and trailed the strange pegasus, curious as to where he was going. After following Soul for quite some time, he stopped and watched from a distance as Soul took his anger out on all the trees, witnessing the deadly pony's work second-hand. The carnage of it all...it chilled him to his bones...no pony should ever wield such a horrible power. That Aishanidari was a creation of malice and death...a perversion. However, he wasn't concerned about the weapon itself, he was concerned about the pony who wielded it. As Soul calmed down, he finally made his way toward the exhausted pony, sitting down a few yards away, looking at the ruins of the trees.

"...kindness often brings out the worst of memories, doesn't it?" Silvan asked quietly, wondering whether the pegasus was still awake.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Soul's weapon lay a few feet away from him in a patch of brown, dead grass. Everything around him was devastated. Soul heard somepony, but he didn't really care right now. If if was his would be killer, Soul would let death take him.

The pony who approached was none other than Silvan.

Trails of frost ran down his face marking the paths of his tears. Soul lifted his head to meet Silvan's gaze, Silvan had caught him in a time of true weakness, try as he might he couldn't put on a tough or even a stoic face. There was no hiding from what he felt from the prince.

Soul could only nod and turn away in response to Silvan's question. "I don't understand what I'm feeling right now." He started to stand but soon his knees buckled under him and he tumbled face first onto the ground. He spat out a few blades of grass as he used Necrosa Timori to hold himself up, albeit quite shakily. His breathing was heavy and he hadn't recovered enough strength to walk yet, but he refused to stay on the ground. "I must be the weakest pony you've ever seen..." He let his head droop down until he was looking at his own hooves. His mane draped across his face, hiding his expression from Silvan.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Dusk walked alongside the others, glancing at them every now and then. He never trusted anypony, least of all guards and those of the Blood. He glanced at his traveling companions again, thinking on each of them. The guard, the Nightingale, he could see an attack coming from him. Of course, he would only do that if he was ordered to. Silvan, an Imperial family member, he could attack, he probably had some kind of weapon on him, despite the lack of a weapon to see. He turned his glances to the next pony in line. Soul Slasher, he could, maybe even would, attack, in fact, attack would most likely come from that one. Dusk kept in mind that, when they made camp, he should bed down as far from him as possible. The last one he glanced at, the gravedigger, Gallows, the least likely one to attack him, yet he didn’t put it past the pony. Dusk looked back to the mountain coming up in front of them. He never put anything past anypony.

The higher they went, the colder it got. Despite that, Dusk was sweating from the trek. He glanced at the other ponies, envious of their stamina. He hated it, he hated the cold, he hated walking, he hated envying others, and he hated it when others had an advantage over him. He sighed with relive when they stopped in a clearing near sunset, falling to the ground in his exhaustion. He accepted the bracelet that Silvan offered him without question, but he waited to put it on till after one of the others did first. The bracelet spread warmth through him, starting from the leg that it was on and spreading from there. After a few minutes letting his body rest and warm up, he stood back up.

He removed his saddlebags and set them down on the spot he intended to sleep on. It was a short distance away from the others, yet still in the clearing. He pulled out a blanket and a bedroll, setting them down in the same spot. Once his sleeping arrangements were complete, he picked up his pickhammer and walked over to join the others around the fire. He sat down with his hooves folded underneath himself. He set the pickhammer down in front of himself, studying it in the dying sunlight and flickering fire.

"...it is so nice to look at the stars...back in Ashen Gate, all the city's lights made the sky completely black. This was something I had missed, all those years ago..."

Dusk lifted his head to glance at the Nightingale, then kept looking at the pickhammer. He had never cared for looking at the stars. Whenever he looked at them, all he saw was a bunch of lights in the sky, nothing fantastic about them. He preferred finding beauty in more earth bound things, like gold, or gems, or the weapon in front of him.

"So...what are your dreams? Any hopes for the future you'd like to share? Please don't say that you haven't got a dream...because I don't like liars."

Dusk didn’t lift his head this time, he simply listened as the others spoke their dreams first. He sniffed at Gallows dream and made no sound over Soul’s. He waited to see if the others had anything more to say. In the pause, Soul got up and stormed out of the camp. Dusk looked after him, then turned back to the pickhammer.

“I dream of finding power” he told it,” that way nopony will be able to say I’m weak, ever again. Hmph, I’d like to find knowledge, too, that would be nice, and maybe some place where I can live in peace, nopony to bother me, especially the Blood.” As he spoke, he reached out and started stroking the weapon, seemingly oblivious to the other ponies around the fire.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Gallows' smile faded as he listened to Soul. "My dream was to have my father not look at me like I was worthless trash, and for a while I thought I had that. Everypony versed in what happened during the Rebellions should know what happened during me and my Father Honor Bound." He looked away into the sky and sighed. "Now I don't know, there was I time when I thought I could be still and have a family, be a better stallion than that monster I called a father, but I failed just as spectacularly as he did." His eyes glowed gold, they pierced through the shadow if his hood. "I guess I just want to leave this place, put it all behind me, but no place seems far enough away."

Gallows frowned up at the stars, still lying on his back quietly as Soul suddenly grew very angry and stormed off. His attempts at a positive mood were always being dashed by this crowd. And the worst part was that he had a pretty good idea what Soul's quest for isolation had been like. He didn't know what the rest felt like, and was glad of it, but he too had sought seclusion from the world. It wasn't an easy quest, and the fact that he was here now and not neck deep in a grave showed about how effective it had been anyway.

He was in a sour mood again, not interested in hearing the woes and laments of his traveling companions. But then Dusk decided to chip into the conversation. “I dream of finding power” he told it,” that way nopony will be able to say I’m weak, ever again. Hmph, I’d like to find knowledge, too, that would be nice, and maybe some place where I can live in peace, nopony to bother me, especially the Blood.”

"Oh sweet Magus," He grumbled in exasperation, covering his eyes with his hooves and groaning emphatically, "Will everyone just quit whining already? Life sucks; that's Coltara for you. Deal with it!" He threw his hooves down at his sides and huffed, "Now does anyone have anything positive to say? Good books? Hot mares? Funny stories? Something not so depressing or bitter."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...