Three Es, five Ds and a Y [Invite Only]

[Halide]

This is a cursed item. There are cursed items in the world and this is one of them. ...everything we try and do to it, goes wrong.
-Grant Imahara, renowned roboticist.

​


There were some things, on any number of planets, that should not be taken from their resting places. There are some things, on every planet, that should be left well enough alone. There are things that hold power unimaginable, uncontrollable, and unpredictable, and under no circumstances what so ever should they be left in the hands of three adolescent scam artists sitting in the midst of the suburbs. That hadn't stopped a certain somebody from trying to make the ancient artifact work, of course; whether it had been for the sake of showmanship and artistry, for the sake of science and ingenuity, or just bloody dumb luck, nobody would ever know. For that matter, it was kind of moot which one of the three Ed boys was responsible for their current problem. Fact of the matter was one of the three young twits had ripped causality a new one, and not entirely on purpose.

Oh well.

The trip between places and realities had been short, chaotic, and entirely violent. Somewhere skirting the perimeter of Canterlot, a tear in time and space had been clawed open by powers unknown, and a healthy chunk of a quiet peach creek suburb had found itself disgorged from it. Furniture and building materials were spat out unceremonoiusly over a stretch of uninhabited mountainside, while three young sons of men were thrown about the area with no real regard to their safety.

But this is not the story of the rubble or the rift - it's the story of the stragglers thrown about. Ed, Edd, and Eddy to be precise.

Edd had managed to catch himself in the lower boughs of a tree, clinging for dear life as he hoped his momentum would come to a half. Eddy had flown a bit farther, leaving the intellect's sight entirely. Ed? Ed was presumably just fine, given his usual tenacity in the face of physical adversity.

"Oh, confound all these increasingly infortuitous mishaps! I knew we shouldn't have tampered with that contemptuously unidentifiable trinket..." Edd grumbled to himself, bemoaning yet another misfire of his associate's scheming. "I don't even recognize this particular locale! What on earth are we supposed to do now?" He continued, inching his way closer to the haft of the branch, getting himself a little more stable. He wasn't aware of anyone being around to hear him, nor did he expect the approach of any living creature. He realized that he was on a mountain-side, clinging to a conifer of some sort - a tiny part of his brain calculated that he was probably hundreds of miles from the cul de sac - and possibly any near point of civilization. However, for the sake of keeping calm, he didn't think too hard on that one, instead more concerned about getting back to the ground and recollecting his associates.

But where were was the con-art king and the lumbering lummox, anyhow? Edd wasn't entirely sure, and so he kept an ear out for either upset shouting of Eddy cursing a failed scheme, or Ed inevitably finding something to laugh about. At very least, his unintentional perch gave him a decent vantage point for looking and listening.