NeilWacaster

With the smoke billowing around him, Newsworthy again jumped back to regain visibility. He saw with horror the bursts of red lightning spewing forth from the cloud in all directions. However, their effects were much more deadly than the bolts themselves. He narrowly missed being crushed by a huge stalactite which fell from the ceiling. Splinters of the exploding rock cut into his flesh. He cowered, covering his head with the shield, praying that this wasn't his last breath. He peered from under the shield and saw Partheus and Slade running for their lives. This left him to face the most powerful force of evil in Equestria. Alone. But then, the ninja turned and began flinging throwing knives back at the Mistress. She had her back turned to the reporter, and her attention was diverted. Newsworthy knew what he had to do. Jumping into the air, he dove at her. A few of the shuriken and kunai stuck in his shield, but did not impede him. He brandished the sword, aiming the point directly at her heart.

Newsworthy, being unarmed, had cowered behind a large boulder. However, a sinister cackle echoing down the hallway made him jerk up and look around. At the end of the hallway, he saw a human female glowing with some type of magical energy. Before her, he recognized the figure of Partheus. It was hard to tell what was going on from this distance, but his mind was resolved. Regardless of the danger to himself, he had to go help his friend. There was no time to think, only to act. He leapt into the air, and burst forward in a blue streak. There was one guard blocking his path. The brute looked up at the pegasus in surprise, raising his rifle. Newsworthy flipped in midair, pointing a sharp back hoof at the pony's skull. The guard took aim. A deafening gunshot. Newsworthy cried out in pain as he crashed into his attacker. There was a sickening crunch as the pegasus' hoof connected. Newsworthy knew that he was dead if he stayed on the ground, even for an instant, so he willed himself to keep flying. The other two guards turned their attention to the new threat, but he was already streaking away, purposely weaving to deter any further attempts to shoot him out of the air. Glancing back, he saw that the bullet had, mercifully, only grazed his flank. Blood trickled from the wound and streamed down his leg. As he sped around the dying flames of the alchemical fire, he noticed a fallen guard. Diving, Newsworthy alighted briefly, grabbing his sword and shield. With that, he was back in the air. He could see Partheus just ahead. Hang on, just a little bit longer ...

"You fool. Trixie has been all too kind with you human scum. She will enjoy seeing your entrails spattered in a fifty foot radius. Behold the awesome might of The Great and Powerful Trixie!" Ordinarily, a huge burst of magic would have exploded from her horn and the human would have been no more. However, nothing happened at all. "What have you done? Trixie screamed, pawing at her horn. It wobbled back and forth, utterly useless. "Trixie is nothing without her magic, nothing!" Seething with rage, she jumped up and bucked a hoof across the back of the alchemist's skull. "This has gone on long enough. Trixie is in charge here, and nopony is going to stop her." A group of about a dozen guards was galloping down the hallway, skirting around the alchemical fire, their weapons drawn. "Guards!" she yelled. "The Great and Powerful Trixie has brought these prisoners here for interrogation. Keep them alive, but other than that ..." She glanced back at them, her nose upturned. "Do with them as you will."

Newsworthy tied up the alchemist's wounds as best he could. It appeared that the bleeding was staunched, but he would need attention from a magic user soon to avoid further injury. He nearly had a heart attack when the lightning bolt struck the entrance to the cave. Looking back, he was disheartened to see that the weather pony had closed off their only known way of escape. "What the hay did you do?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "How in the name of Celestia are we going to get out now?" --- Trixie sniffed haughtily. "There's no need to try to hide your feelings. Trixie knows that every stallion in Equestria falls head over hooves to get at her. Now, release me. You realize that Trixie can just command these guards to let us pass, do you not? As much as she enjoys watching your friends die, her Mistress prefers live prisoners." She smiled spookily. "The torture is much more effective that way."

Startled and blinded by the explosion, the next thing Trixie knew she was being held down by the disgusting pony with a skull for a head. "Unhoof Trixie, you cad!" she gasped, trying to break free. "Trixie is not in the mood for your advances. Can't you see that we are in the middle of a battle?" --- Newsworthy jumped into hiding as soon as the battle began. Peeking around a large boulder, he was appalled to see the human with the strange accent fall to the ground. While it appeared they were safe for the moment, he could hear a commotion a ways down the hall, portending more foes on the way. The reporter jumped into the air and glided down beside the alchemist. "Are you alright?" he asked anxiously.

"Madame Mist is a dealer and collector of fine art, primarily from the early classical period. Perhaps you've heard of it? Most art from that time is clay pottery, and some of the creativity with their glazes is simply remarkable, even today." He smiled at the lady.

The magician's gaze at the ninja was venomous. "Do not tempt Trixie," she said haughtily, using a spell to heal the wound in her knee. "One more such threat and she shall be forced to turn you into a toadstool." Trixie, being experienced in the arts of deception, knew not to take her charges directly to the hideout. It was only about ten minutes walk away, but she took several long loops. This had several advantages: one, the ponies would not be able to find their way back out without help, and two, they would be tired when they arrived. After nearly an hour of traversing difficult terrain, they came to a large cave entrance. She knew something was wrong when she noticed that the guards were absent. "The Great and Powerful Trixie has led you to your destination. Now, she must ensure that you make it to the Mistress alive. Follow her inside, all who have the bravery and foolishness to enter."

"Thank Celestia," Newsworthy looked relieved. "These blasted Dwellers move through the forest leaving naught a trace. We would be hopelessly lost without her help." After a minute or two, Trixie appeared, looking as cocky as ever. Her mane and robe looked a bit burnt from the electric shock. "Well, come along then. The Great and Powerful Trixie does not have all day." She began lead them rapidly through the forest, occasionally consulting a worn map which she drew from her saddlebag.

Should Trixie kill them now? She thought to herself. It would take less than a second for the spell to suck their life away. Just imagine: all these pitiful little bodies, lost in the Everfree. Never to be found, except by a hungry manticore. Their blood staining the forest leaves ... but ... no. Trixie would much rather see the Mistress deal with them. Alive. A handsome reward will be received by her. Yes. This pleases Trixie. Screwing up her face into a pout, she pined dramatically, "You dashing, valiant human! Trixie is no match for your cunning." Smiling sadistically, "She will take you to the Mistress, and she is sure that you will meet the same fate as the other human. Yes, she is certain of it." --- Safely out of Trixie's range, Newsworthy alighted on the ground a ways ahead of the others, looking for any clue as to where the bandits had gone. The dwellers were known for being able to melt into the shadows, and thus it would be difficult to find any trail. He sniffed the ground, smelling nothing but leaves.

Losing no time, Newsworthy leapt into the air and with one powerful flap of his wings was speeding through the trees in the direction the bandits had gone. "Come on!" he called to the others. --- Trixie's concentration was broken by the bite of the steel at her throat. The spell fizzled, and she looked back at her attacker with a fierce glare. "You dare threaten the Great and Powerful Trixie? Be forewarned, she never forgives those who get in her way. Now, barbarian, what would you have with Trixie?"

"It's Newsworthy ..." the pegasus muttered, walking over to Trixie's prone form. He looked down at the magician with not a little apprehension. "She's no Twilight Sparkle, but Trixie's magic is quite potent." The unicorn began to stir, awakening from her 'shocking' little nap. "We must use the utmost caution. Anypony who can use magic, please, be ready to counter if she attacks." Trixie's eyes flew open, and she looked from side to side, panicked. "Stay back! The Great and Powerful Trixie will not allow you to take her alive!" Putting on an air of confidence, he pointed a hoof threateningly at the magician. "Trixie, where have your 'friends' taken Partheus? Tell us, or be prepared to suffer the consequences!" "What 'consequences' could possibly harm the Great and Powerful Trixie?" she scoffed. "Your piddling magicks stand no chance at disarming her now. In fact, it is you who should be afraid for his life. Insignificant as it is." Her horn began to glow, portending a powerful spell. There was no time to react. Newsworthy braced himself for impact, hoping that one of the others could stop the crazed magician.

"Well met, Slade. We must hurry if we are to rescue Partheus before it is too late, so let us proceed, and we can become more acquainted on the way." Newsworthy turned to Envy with a questioning gaze. "Do you have some type of magic that will aid us in tracking where they took him?"

"I know nothing about this 'Harmony Castle.' If we don't go now, I'm concerned that we will lose the trail of the bandits. Also, I don't trust this mysterious message giver as far as I can throw him. What if it's one of the dwellers, trying to throw us off track?" Newsworthy shook his head. "My vote is to go ahead and follow Partheus' captors."

Newsworthy laughed. "If such an award existed, I'm sure she would win." Noticing that the others were already at the dinner table, he took his seat. The food smelled amazing, and he was especially glad to see the chocolate cake, as that was his favorite. "So, Miss Parcel," he said in his lilting English accent, "I know that you're here visiting your family, so where do you usually call home?"

Newsworthy felt very glad to have been able to come. He wondered if this time would serve to help the two new stallions to get used to living in Equestria after leaving their native lands. He walked up to Pixie Parcel. "You must be the mare I've heard so much about. Derpy ..." He caught himself, remembering that she didn't like that name. "Ah, Ditzy Doo I mean, well, she told me all about the award you won a while back. Mail Pony of the Year, I believe? Quite the honor. Although she told me more about the lack of muffins and overabundance of cupcakes than about the ceremony."

"What a pleasure to visit your home, Doctor. These two asked if they could come along, and I didn't think you would mind," he said, pointing to Bowie and Wind Mist.

"Indeed it can." His look was one of admiration. "I misjudged you, Bass. I assumed that a musician would care naught for my art. But you proved me wrong. Not only that, but if you truly do sympathize with me, then you are the first in a long time. I can't say how much I appreciate that." He looked down, his old social anxiety holding him back. He could put on a good front, but he still had trouble with this sort of thing.

As Silver Wish finished her interpretation, he gave a wide smile and nodded in approval. Again, though, this was just for show. He was frustrated that she had basically just noticed the colors in the painting and had taken little actual meaning. However, he restrained his critical tongue, knowing that he must keep on her good side. As Bass walked over to the painting, Palétte looked smug. This one may know music, but my art is far to subtle for him. Ah, well. Let him try. It shall be amusing. He waited patiently as the musician studied the painting. When he began to give his critique, Palétte's eyebrows shot up in surprise. This stallion really knows what he's doing. I wonder if he has formal artistic training. As Bass detailed how he guessed the painting was inspired, the artist was taken back to that fateful moment. He remembered that it was the day when his only friend had moved away. The son-of-a-birch had gotten a new job in Canterlot, and promised he would write, but never did. He promised he would visit, and never did. He promised. As Bass finished, Palétte looked at him with newfound respect. "Too detailed? Too detailed!? Far from it. That was the best critique I've heard in years. You may be a musician, but the artistic bent is strong with you." Turning to the students, he said, "Look upon this stallion and wonder, my little ponies. Pray that one day you will be as astute an observer as he, although I seriously doubt it, considering your abysmal performance this evening. The meaning that he took from the painting encompasses both the essence I wanted to convey as well as a personal meaning for himself. No more needs to be said. Our class is dismissed, and you are free to continue your pathetic little lives. Feel free to approach me with questions or contemplations, but please, make sure that whatever you say to me has some modicum of insight." The students separated into small groups, discussing the artist's words and looking, almost fearfully, at some of the other paintings. Leo stepped forward. "You were much too harsh with the students, Palétte. A teacher must be kind, as well as critical." Palétte dismissed this idea with a wave of a hoof. "If you don't like the way I teach, then don't bring the students to my exhibit. Young ponies need a kick in the flank if they're going to remember anything. You mark my words, they'll never forget what happened here tonight, and their art will be the better for it." Leo shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder about you, my friend. Sometimes I wonder." He walked over to the refreshment table and began to sip the last cup of champagne. Palétte turned back to Bass, with a serious expression. "You, sir, are a marvel. I never would have expected a musician to be able to understand my work so completely."

Newsworthy nodded. "I'm certain that the doctor would welcome your visit." Looking at Bowie with concern, "I'm sorry that you have had such a hard time. Come with us, and perhaps our company can dispel the thundercloud hovering over you." He led the group out the door and down the main street, turning at a signpost that said, 'Residential Acres.' "There it is, that big, blue house there." Newsworthy pointed with a hoof.

The students stood in silence, looking intently at the painting. Palétte paced back and forth before them, making sure that they were all giving their full attention. After about five minutes, he sighed deeply. "While your contemplation should continue for an hour or more to approach the full effect of this piece, the constraints of time require that we move on. You should be able to give me some insights. How did this piece make you feel? What meaning does it have to you, that it does not, could not, convey to any other?" A student raised a hoof tentatively. "Yes, you there. What do you see?" The young stallion squinted at the painting. "It makes me feel ... angry." Palétte's brow furrowed. "Alright ... that's a start. Why is that? What about the work gives you that impression?" "The red blotch in the middle. It reminds me of an explosion." "There must be more. Tell me more," Palette gesticulated, indicating that he must go on. The student looked down at his hooves, thinking. "I hate war. This piece reminds me of war, and thus it makes me angry." Palétte mimicked the answerer, mocking him. " 'The red blotch reminds me of war, and war makes me angry.' And you call yourself an artist. You should thank Celestia that you have years of training before you. Pathetic. Simply pathetic." He walked back to stand before the painting. His voice was even, measured. "Apparently your teachers have not taught you the most important rule for critiquing art. Subtlety. "The themes that you chose, amateur, were far too broad. 'Anger,' 'war,' and 'hate' are enormous topics. Just one of those themes would take a lifetime to express throughout a body of thousands of artistic works. This piece is only one, tiny drop in the ocean I create. I don't expect you to receive the same messages that I had in mind when I painted this piece, as art is a fully subjective form of expression. However, I do expect you to be able to find your own meanings. Now, again I ask you. Tell me what you see." The students, frightened by the artist's harsh words, were silent. Palétte looked at them in disgust. "You foals have no conception of how to perform under pressure. Fine! If you won't answer, I'm sure that one of these more competent ponies will be able to give a more intelligent response." He looked at Deep Bass, then turned towards Silver Wish, with a mischievous grin. Addressing them both, he said, "Well? Can you show these bumbling foals how to critique a piece of art?" Picture for reference: