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Tales From the Crypt(oozologist)

By SQA-non
Created: 2025-09-15 18:21:32
Updated: 2025-11-12 02:18:50
Expiry: Never
comedyanonstallionthriller?

  1. 1.
    >Why, in the name of everything that’s shown under Celestia’s sun, were you here?
  2. 2.
    >Gustav’s Great Griffon Goods was a butcher, no matter how he tried to dress it up for pony sensibilities.
  3. 3.
    >Grimey, greasy, and thoroughly in the center of Manehattan’s Griffontown, it was a place no self-respecting equine would patronize.
  4. 4.
    >Yet here you were, outvoted as usual.
  5. 5.
    >You’d wanted to go to the Corner Cafe, it was dandelion season, and nowhere else in the city made better sandwiches.
  6. 6.
    >It seemed like a no-brainer!
  7. 7.
    >Yet, here you sat at quad-Gs, soundly outvoted two to one.
  8. 8.
    >And one of those two couldn’t even be bothered to get here on time!
  9. 9.
    >Which left you with two options.
  10. 10.
    >A: continue to pick at the most pathetic dandelion sandwich you’ve ever eaten (which you’re certain Gustav only added to the menu because you kept complaining).
  11. 11.
    >Or B: trade barbs with the friend who was here.
  12. 12.
    “So, you asked him out yet?”
  13. 13.
    >The hen sitting across from you stops, sputtering as her half-chewed food comes to roost in her throat.
  14. 14.
    >The look she gives you could kill, but it was worth it to put a pause in her pecking apart the piece of carcass she called food.
  15. 15.
    >”Flock off, Beacon. For the last time, I’m not goin’ to.”
  16. 16.
    “Come on, everypony from here to the station knows you like him. Even Gustov! You should do it, I think he’d say yes.”
  17. 17.
    >She rolls her eyes, and tears off another piece of that “country fried” whatever with her beak.
  18. 18.
    >”You must’ve copped an extra chromosome’s worth of that optimism gene you ponies seem born with.”
  19. 19.
    >A barb like that might have cut some ponies to the bone, but Dazzling Beacon was not some ponies.
  20. 20.
    >Or you were just used to it.
  21. 21.
    >Choosing to believe it was the former, you peacock your wings right there in that greasy booth.
  22. 22.
    >It's profoundly uncomfortable, but worth it to show how not bothered you are.
  23. 23.
    “Don’t hate me just because I’ve never had a bad idea.”
  24. 24.
    >The griffon cocks a feathered brow.
  25. 25.
    >”You call rushing a Cipactli a good idea?”
  26. 26.
    >Okay that one actually hurt.
  27. 27.
    “I thought we agreed—”
  28. 28.
    >The involuntary trip down bad-memory lane is stopped by the soft “ding” of the entrance’s bell.
  29. 29.
    >And in walks the stallion of the hour.
  30. 30.
    >As usual, he’s got no less than three scrolls floating around him, suspended by a lavender glow.
  31. 31.
    >Even as he trots into the shop, his eyes continue flicking between them.
  32. 32.
    >This is just embarrassing, time to save your friend from himself, again.
  33. 33.
    “Anonymous!”
  34. 34.
    >He looks up, like he’s surprised to already see the two of you there.
  35. 35.
    >”Oh! Beacon, Lieutenant! I assumed I’d beat you here.”
  36. 36.
    >And just like that the scrolls are rolled up, slipping back into the saddlebags marked with a question mark.
  37. 37.
    >His very fitting cutie mark, if you’d say so yourself.
  38. 38.
    “Beat us? Dude you’re at least twenty minutes late. Lou had time to order!”
  39. 39.
    >As always, (Former) Lieutenant Gaelle is more than willing to look past the faux pas.
  40. 40.
    >Instead, she points toward the scrolls he just filed away.
  41. 41.
    >”Get a load of you! You’re heaps better now. I remember when you could barely wrangle one scroll.”
  42. 42.
    >You scoot further into the booth, and he quickly jumps in beside you/
  43. 43.
    >”I’ve been practicing, it's why I was late actually,” he says. “Apperantly the ‘slow your perception’ spell I’ve been trying out works a little too well.”
  44. 44.
    >Unfortunately any further haranguing you hoped to do was utterly smothered by the arrival of the shop’s owner and sole employee.
  45. 45.
    >The mustachio’d griffon practically soars out of the back when he hears Anon’s voice.
  46. 46.
    >”My oh my!” He says, coming to a stop at the end of your table. “Why if it isn’t my favorite pony in all of Manehatten! I tell you what, I just got something I guarantee you’ve NEVER had before on my block today.”
  47. 47.
    >”Oh?”
  48. 48.
    >”Cockatrice,” Gaelle says with a smirk.
  49. 49.
    >Gustav throws up a talon, and you’re suddenly very happy you’re on the far end of the booth.
  50. 50.
    >”Wha!? Why you gotta go and spoil the surprise like that!? Why I outta...”
  51. 51.
    >Come on Anonymous, for once, just once, say no.
  52. 52.
    >But your heart sinks as he says, “Cockatrice? I haven’t had that before.”
  53. 53.
    >Gaelle pecks off another chunk, not waiting to swallow before speaking, “‘Ts what I got. Pretty good.”
  54. 54.
    >Anon gestures to her plate, “May I?”
  55. 55.
    >By the grace of Celestia herself, the red tint at the edge of her plumage hides poor Gaelle’s blush.
  56. 56.
    >”Yeah, course,” she sputters.
  57. 57.
    >You look away as he picks up the fork you left him, unable to stomach the sordid scene.
  58. 58.
    >Honestly, you can’t decide which part of the sight is worse.
  59. 59.
    >A pony willingly eating meat, or a stallion being so utterly clueless.
  60. 60.
    >He HAS to know how intimate sharing food is for a griffon. He HAS to.
  61. 61.
    >It’s like one of the THREE things they teach in the cultural studies class every school has.
  62. 62.
    >But then again, when you met Anon he had the magical knowledge of a unicorn who’d skipped magic kindergarten.
  63. 63.
    >Maybe he was just THAT bad of a student?
  64. 64.
    >Seems kind of hard to believe, a bookworm like him.
  65. 65.
    >When you reopen your eyes, he’s thankfully finished whatever bite Gaelle offered him.
  66. 66.
    >”I think I’ll have that too, and a cup of that ‘Edge of the Empire’ brew you were telling me about, Gustav."
  67. 67.
    >The griffon grins at the perverse display of a pony eating his wares.
  68. 68.
    >”Right away!” he says as he departs.
  69. 69.
    >Anon turns back to Gaelle, “You can have a bite of mine as payback.”
  70. 70.
    >Oh come ON!
  71. 71.
    >Now he’s just being cruel!
  72. 72.
    >Between your groan and the now VERY obvious blush on Gaelle’s face, Anon’s attention is split right down the middle between the two of you.
  73. 73.
    >”What!?”
  74. 74.
     
  75. 75.
     
  76. 76.
    >In the end, you and Gaelle elected not to inform poor Anon he’d essentially told Gaelle he was down to buck.
  77. 77.
    >It was simpler that way, and it let Gaelle continue whatever sick one-sided cockfriend roleplay she had going on.
  78. 78.
    >You knew she took joy in it, no matter what she said.
  79. 79.
    >It was by no means easy to avoid telling him though, the two of you were dodging questions right up until Gustav brought his order.
  80. 80.
    >Once that stallion had the cup of coffee in his hooves, it was all over.
  81. 81.
    >”This is amazing,” he said after only one sip. “The best cup of coffee I’ve ever had!”
  82. 82.
    >His voice was quiet, level.
  83. 83.
    >He didn’t jump for joy, he didn’t shout it to the heavens.
  84. 84.
    >His ears stayed firmly forward, and his smile was small.
  85. 85.
    >Most ponies would have looked at a display like that, and assumed he REALLY didn’t mean it.
  86. 86.
    >But you’ve gotten used to the way Anon works right now.
  87. 87.
    >He might as well have just set off a firework.
  88. 88.
    >It was a style of emoting most ponies found off-putting, however, griffons loved it.
  89. 89.
    >Reminded them of their own temperament, if you had to guess.
  90. 90.
    >”I knew you’d like it!” Gustav beamed before departing back to the kitchen.
  91. 91.
    >Then, much to your dismay, Anon puts down the cup and picks up a knife and fork.
  92. 92.
    >Again, you avert your eyes.
  93. 93.
    “Celestia, how can you eat that stuff? Uh, no offence, Gustav!” you shout back to the kitchen.
  94. 94.
    >”None taken.”
  95. 95.
    >He chews thoughtfully, yet vilely, and swallows.
  96. 96.
    >”Why not? It tastes good, and ponies aren’t obligate herbivores."
  97. 97.
    >It's your turn to sputter this time, flummoxed as usual by his in-equine logic.
  98. 98.
    “It’s not about can, it's about SHOULD. Griffons, they don’t have a choice. But Faust gave us, ponies, the free will to choose NOT to eat the flesh of others! So we don’t do it.”
  99. 99.
    >You also have a hard time believing it tastes good, considering it smells TERRIBLE.
  100. 100.
    >You’re not saying that in Gustav’s though, that would be a bridge too far.
  101. 101.
    >Gaelle gestures a thumb at you, mouthing, “This cock.”
  102. 102.
    >But Anon just stares at you, expression totally unreadable.
  103. 103.
    >As well as you know him, his poker face is still unmatched.
  104. 104.
    >You’d figured he was just a private pony at first, but considering how uncoordinated he can sometimes be, you sometimes wonder if it's nerve damage.
  105. 105.
    >”Your appeals to my spirituality fall on deaf ears, Beacon.”
  106. 106.
    “Why? Because you’ve already solved the mystery of what happens after we die?”
  107. 107.
    >His expression becomes even more inscrutable, somehow.
  108. 108.
    >”If we agree to meet at the Corner Cafe next time, will you give this a rest?”
  109. 109.
    >You almost agree outright, how foolish that would have been.
  110. 110.
    “Only if you agree to try their daffodil sandwich.”
  111. 111.
    >He sighs, what kind of pony sighs at the idea of a daffodil sandwich!?
  112. 112.
    >”Deal.”
  113. 113.
    >Gaelle lightly drums her talons on the table, “Right, glad we got that settled. Now Anon...”
  114. 114.
    >She leans over the table.
  115. 115.
    >”What’s our next adventure?”
  116. 116.
    >He smiles, that same small smile, and unfurls a scroll from his bag.
  117. 117.
    >”Have either of you heard of the Camazotz?”
  118. 118.
     
  119. 119.
     
  120. 120.
    >Hardly a few hours later, the three of you were on an overnight train.
  121. 121.
    >You, Anonymous, had elected to take one of the bottom bunks.
  122. 122.
    >Seeing as you were the only one who couldn’t fly, it made the most sense.
  123. 123.
    >Gaelle was on the bunk above yours, hanging her front half upside-down off the side of her bed.
  124. 124.
    >In her claws was the very same scroll you’d unrolled in the diner.
  125. 125.
    >”All this for some... giant bat?” she asks.
  126. 126.
    “Not just any giant bat! Several early Thestral cultures believed a union between the Camazotz and Princess Luna birthed their tribe.”
  127. 127.
    >Beacon snorts from the top bunk across the room.
  128. 128.
    >”That thing and Luna? Princess Celestia would never.”
  129. 129.
    >Gaelle rolls over, tossing the scroll down to you.
  130. 130.
    >”So, who’s the sap pickin’ up our tab?”
  131. 131.
    >You roll your eyes.
  132. 132.
    >You’d hardly call the people who fund your new life’s work “saps”, but you suppose that’s just griffon culture for you.
  133. 133.
    “A noble named Countess Sepulchria. She’s got a castle right on the border of Thestralvania — didn’t I tell you this already?"
  134. 134.
    >The two of them stare down at you, quite flatly.
  135. 135.
    >”You forgot to slip it in between the detailed anatomical descriptions and every possible documented sighting in the last two hundred years,” Beacon says.
  136. 136.
    “Oh,” is all you can muster.
  137. 137.
    >You feel a small burst of shame, which doubles on itself when you forget to pin back your ears.
  138. 138.
    >Damn, you keep forgetting!
  139. 139.
    >Why couldn’t these things be natural, automatic!?
  140. 140.
    >Thankfully your friends are used to it at this point, they don’t even comment on it anymore.
  141. 141.
    >”Hang on,” says Gaelle, “Some iso noble wants us to track a crypt that used to be the ‘father of all Thestrals’? Did you land us in some cult thing!?”
  142. 142.
    “No!” you add defensively, this time remembering to pin your ears back. “Her letters were completely normal!”
  143. 143.
    >Okay, maybe not COMPLETELY normal.
  144. 144.
    >But this was such an opportunity!
  145. 145.
    >This was a whole new country to explore, and a chance to see a creature equine eyes haven’t beheld in centuries!
  146. 146.
    >You honestly don’t understand how ponies do it.
  147. 147.
    >Their whole world is full of all these amazing things!
  148. 148.
    >Mystical creatures, breathtaking vistas!
  149. 149.
    >All waiting to be discovered, documented, and shared!
  150. 150.
    >Yet they’re content to toil away in their little cities, utterly uncurious about this fantastical world around them.
  151. 151.
    >Well not you, you’re not wasting your new life on a “career” like a dumbass rube.
  152. 152.
    >Not again.
  153. 153.
    >So what if the Countess’ letters were a little... odd?
  154. 154.
    >You were probably being paranoid, Thestrals were still ponies after all.
  155. 155.
    >This world was so much more earnest and straightforward than your last.
  156. 156.
    >There’s no reason to look at these things with the same paranoia you had as a human!
  157. 157.
    >At least... you hope not.
  158. 158.
    “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
  159. 159.
     
  160. 160.
     
  161. 161.
    >That night on the train was restless, as they intermittently were in the year since you became a pony.
  162. 162.
    >It was... unfortunate.
  163. 163.
    >Facial expressions weren’t the only thing improperly wired up by whatever bizarro process had granted you this new body.
  164. 164.
    >Ponies process things differently than humans; you witness it every day.
  165. 165.
    >In both others, and in yourself.
  166. 166.
    >Sometimes you’ll get these feelings, feelings that logically make little sense to you, but your body VICERALLY reacts to.
  167. 167.
    >Tonight is, unfortunately, a common one.
  168. 168.
    >Lying here in bed, you feel so... alone.
  169. 169.
    >You assume it's an aftershock of being the only one of your kind here.
  170. 170.
    >But when you try to face these feelings, process them, they make no sense!
  171. 171.
    >You and other people always had a tenuous relationship at best.
  172. 172.
    >And now you’ve got better friends here than you ever had on Earth!
  173. 173.
    >Sure, you’re a little isolated from the wider population of ponies, but no more than you were from the wider population of people.
  174. 174.
    >Yet as a human, you never felt this yawning emptiness.
  175. 175.
    >It crawls into your chest and leaves you desperately craving... craving...
  176. 176.
    >...something. Honestly, you’ve got no idea what.
  177. 177.
    >Another problem with the constant misfires between your brain and your body.
  178. 178.
    >Oh well, whatever, you’ll just do what you always do when a mood like this strikes you.
  179. 179.
    >Focus on something else!
  180. 180.
    >Your studies, usually.
  181. 181.
    >Although you’ve done enough cryptozoology for today, now's the time for another newfound passion of yours.
  182. 182.
    >Magic!
  183. 183.
    >Unfortunately, lighting your horn up like a Christmas tree here would surely wake the others.
  184. 184.
    >And you’ve yet to attain a level of efficiency that allows you to cast without losing all that extra energy as light.
  185. 185.
    >Ponies say it's impossible, but people thought things like psychokinesis were impossible, too.
  186. 186.
    >You just need to figure out /how/.
  187. 187.
    >That’s not for tonight, though.
  188. 188.
    >Quietly extracting yourself from the bedspread, you slip out of your shared bedroom and into the hallway.
  189. 189.
    >The hallway of the train car is fairly dim, the stewards having turned the lamps down hours ago.
  190. 190.
    >That, and your admittedly subpar four-legged coordination, leaves your pace very sedate as you head for the dining car.
  191. 191.
    >You don’t mind, though, it gives you time to absorb the atmosphere of the late-night train.
  192. 192.
    >The gentle rocking, the distant sound of the steam engine pulling you along...
  193. 193.
    >It's very soothing, and another experience your life as a human would have utterly lacked.
  194. 194.
    >Finally passing across the coupler, you enter the dining car.
  195. 195.
    >Equally dim, filled on either side with a row of finely upholstered tables and chairs, and totally abandoned.
  196. 196.
    >Perfect!
  197. 197.
    >In the far back left, you can just make out the car’s bar.
  198. 198.
    >The top shelf liquors rested exactly where they sat when the bar was open, utterly alone and unprotected.
  199. 199.
    >It was amazing what precautions you didn’t have to take when you were a pony.
  200. 200.
    >For a fleeting moment, you’re tempted to pour yourself a free drink.
  201. 201.
    >But it passes, like hell you were going to be the one to betray this society’s high trust.
  202. 202.
    >Taking a seat at one of the random tables, you begin the same way you begin all of your magic studies.
  203. 203.
    >With a precision task!
  204. 204.
    >It was good practice, especially after the first pony doctor you ever saw described your ability to regulate mana as “on the same level as a foal”.
  205. 205.
    >After several attempts at opening windows led to their utter destruction, you believed him.
  206. 206.
    >Now it's been months since you’ve broken anything, and you’re hoping to keep up that streak.
  207. 207.
    >Closing your pony eyes, you allow your mind’s eye to open in their place.
  208. 208.
    >Now you can feel something all around you, flowing in through your horn and back out.
  209. 209.
    >An energy.
  210. 210.
    >Opening your eyes back up, you reach out to it.
  211. 211.
    >Willing reality itself to conform to the idea you have in your head.
  212. 212.
    >Soon your horn is alight with a now-familiar purple glow, and it gently envelops the latch.
  213. 213.
    >Without a pane out of place, the window slides open.
  214. 214.
    >You smile as the gust of cool night air slams into you, sweeping through your mane and fur.
  215. 215.
    >Another sensation you’ve come to truly enjoy.
  216. 216.
    >From there, you move down your little list of spells you’ve been practicing.
  217. 217.
    >Illusory objects, pyrokinesis...
  218. 218.
    >Fairly basic stuff, but you’d like to think your improvement has been rapid.
  219. 219.
    >Although the failure of that perception-slowing spell still stings.
  220. 220.
    >Nothing like turning a fifteen-minute walk into a thirty-five-minute walk to remind you of your limits.
  221. 221.
    >You were midway through constructing a scale model of a banana when a voice shatters your concentration.
  222. 222.
    >”Beautiful, isn’t it?”
  223. 223.
    >Your hard work vanishes back into the aether from whence you summoned it, and for once, you’re thankful for your poker face.
  224. 224.
    >You’re pretty pissed off that you were interrupted by that, BUT the voice was a dead ringer for a stereotypical sweet old lady.
  225. 225.
    >No need to put that on her.
  226. 226.
    >Inclining your head toward the sound, you spy a Thestral.
  227. 227.
    >The mare looks as old as she sounded, her already diminutive frame exaggerated by the way the elderly seem to curl into themselves.
  228. 228.
    >Oddly, you can’t really make out any of her features beyond that, thanks to the dim light and the shawl she’s wearing.
  229. 229.
    >If nothing else, you can see her fangs at least.
  230. 230.
    >”Yes, the Princess’s night sky is truly something to behold.”
  231. 231.
    >You figured she wasn’t talking about your magic purple banana.
  232. 232.
    >Looking back out the window, you take in more than just the sensation of the night breeze this time.
  233. 233.
    >Above the shadowed trees is a sea of stars, untainted by light pollution.
  234. 234.
    >You recall your first nights here, staring up in wonder at it.
  235. 235.
    >Far beyond what Earth’s night sky ever had for you.
  236. 236.
    >After months of staring at it, you’d honestly started taking it for granted.
  237. 237.
    >But it's nice to be reminded of another one of the little gifts this world has given you.
  238. 238.
    “It sure is,” you reply after an unintentionally long time.
  239. 239.
    >The old mare climbs into the seat across from you.
  240. 240.
    >”I’m glad some Unicorns remember. In the days of old, your tribe used to spend the nights with ours. Reading the stars for the Princess’s gifts of prophecy.”
  241. 241.
    >You’re hardly much of an anthropologist (equinologist?), but her words nonetheless intrigue you.
  242. 242.
    >You certainly hadn’t read anything about THAT in the Equestrian history books you’d picked up.
  243. 243.
    >Now your attention’s fully on her.
  244. 244.
    “Is that so?”
  245. 245.
    >She nods.
  246. 246.
    >”It is! We all relied on the wisdom of the stars to see that things occurred at their proper time. Planting, harvests...” as she trails off, her head starts to hang. “Sadly, things have become so routine for ponykind, the art has been all but lost.”
  247. 247.
    >Makes sense to you, you suppose.
  248. 248.
    >Not much need for oracles when you control every aspect of the natural world.
  249. 249.
    >Still, you’d have to agree with her that it’s a shame.
  250. 250.
    >”Where are you headed, dearie?”
  251. 251.
    >The change in subject is so abrupt, you almost answer truthfully.
  252. 252.
    >And yet, you don’t.
  253. 253.
    >A pony would see no reason to distrust this old bat.
  254. 254.
    >More than likely, she’s just a regular old passenger, looking to talk to someone, just like all elderly people are.
  255. 255.
    >What harm could she do with knowing where you’re going anyway?
  256. 256.
    >But... you’re not a pony.
  257. 257.
    >Something about this situation isn’t sitting quite right.
  258. 258.
    >Maybe it’s the way she inexplicably entered the compartment totally silently.
  259. 259.
    >Maybe it was the weird topic of conversation.
  260. 260.
    >Maybe it's the way that you can’t really discern any of the features of her face, even as it's hardly a foot away.
  261. 261.
    >No matter what it is, your human mind is putting its foot down.
  262. 262.
    >You’ll give her something vague, and let her know you’re not alone.
  263. 263.
    “Thestralvania. Some friends and I are on vacation.”
  264. 264.
    >She lets out a bat-like screech, which you take as some wordless sound of approval.
  265. 265.
    >”That’s wonderful! Eee, you’ll love it here. Back in my day, a handsome stallion like yourself would’ve never left. Some strapping young mare would surely have swept you up and taken you home to roost!”
  266. 266.
    >As far as analogues to “swept you off your feet” go, that’s certainly the creepiest.
  267. 267.
    >You tactfully chose to leave the comment unacknowledged.
  268. 268.
    >Thankfully, before that choice can turn the conversation awkward, she continues.
  269. 269.
    >”But whatever you do, you mustn't go to Castle Sepulchria!”
  270. 270.
    >Your interest spikes once more.
  271. 271.
    >As far as you understand, Thestralvania has plenty of castles, most far more famous than Sepulchria’s, and far less remote too.
  272. 272.
    >It wasn’t the kind of place you’d assume most sight-seers would seek out.
  273. 273.
    >What’s going on here?
  274. 274.
    >You search what you can see of her face, hoping to read some sort of intention.
  275. 275.
    >But you get nothing.
  276. 276.
    >As it is, your only hint to her thoughts are the fangs protruding from the shadow of her veil, and those aren’t giving you much.
  277. 277.
    >You try to squint and get a better look without making it too obvious.
  278. 278.
    “Oh really? I’ve never heard of it,” you lie.
  279. 279.
    >She hesitates, for just a moment.
  280. 280.
    >Like she wasn’t expecting that answer.
  281. 281.
    >Got her.
  282. 282.
    >”It's no place for a nice colt like yourself, Anonymous.”
  283. 283.
    >Once again, you’re thankful for your poker face.
  284. 284.
    >If you were a regular pony, you’d look moments away from shitting your pants.
  285. 285.
    >Because, admittedly, you are.
  286. 286.
    >But at most, right now, you must look mildly confused.
  287. 287.
    “Excuse me? I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”
  288. 288.
    >Her fangs twist into a smirk.
  289. 289.
    >She’s not buying it.
  290. 290.
    >”Dearie, don’t you know it's impolite to lie to your elders?”
  291. 291.
    >Her voice sounds less like an old mare’s now, and more like a mocking impression of one.
  292. 292.
    >But that isn’t the only thing wrong.
  293. 293.
    > Throughout this, you felt the whipping of the night wind against you from the open window.
  294. 294.
    >You no longer do.
  295. 295.
    >Your gaze snaps to it, and the scenery is gone.
  296. 296.
    >This train isn’t driving through a forest at night anymore.
  297. 297.
    >It's diving through an empty void.
  298. 298.
    “What’s going on here!?”
  299. 299.
    >You attempt to leap back from the table, but your nerves get the better of you.
  300. 300.
    >In times like this, human muscle memory takes over.
  301. 301.
    >Instead of landing solidly on four hooves, you land unsteadily on two.
  302. 302.
    > It's not enough to halt your momentum, and the train falls back, back, back...
  303. 303.
    >Until you're tumbling down the length of the car.
  304. 304.
    >But it's not /you/ that’s the problem.
  305. 305.
    >The train car has flipped vertically, and now you’re in freefall.
  306. 306.
    >The old bat, still seated in her chair, continues like nothing's wrong.
  307. 307.
    >Even as she drifts further away by the second, you can still hear her as if she’s sitting next to you.
  308. 308.
    >”Castle Sepulchria is full of hidden dangers. If you insist on going, you must do one thing.”
  309. 309.
    >You scream out for Beacon and Gaelle as the air whips through your mane once more.
  310. 310.
    >But this is no comforting night wind; it's the air resistance from plummeting to your death.
  311. 311.
    >You should have hit the other end of the car by now. How are you still falling?
  312. 312.
    >”Don’t forget to check under your pillow,” she whispers in your ear.
  313. 313.
     
  314. 314.
     
  315. 315.
    >Your eyes snap open.
  316. 316.
    >Shooting upright, you scramble, hands that are no longer there desperate to find purchase on anything.
  317. 317.
    >But all you manage is slamming your hoof into the wall.
  318. 318.
    “FUCK! Ow!”
  319. 319.
    >There’s a loud squawk from above you, followed by the thud of someone falling off a top bunk.
  320. 320.
    >Gaelle is at your side, looking like she just rolled out of bed.
  321. 321.
    >”ANON!? What’s going on?
  322. 322.
    >It's then you realize where you are.
  323. 323.
    >Not falling down some endless traincar, safe in your bed.
  324. 324.
    >No bat, no black void, just your friends and the morning sun.
  325. 325.
    >It was all just a dream...
  326. 326.
    >...but you don’t really believe that.
  327. 327.
    >Everything felt too real.
  328. 328.
    “Someone doesn’t want us here.”
  329. 329.
    >”You mean some-PONY,” a groggy and annoyed sounding Beacon corrects you from across the room.
  330. 330.
    “No.”
  331. 331.
    >You sincerely doubt that little old bat was that thing’s true face.
  332. 332.
    >Could’ve been a pony, changeling, anything really.
  333. 333.
    >Pushing yourself out of bed, you wince as you land on the hoof you just introduced to the wall.
  334. 334.
    >Glad it wasn’t your hand, might have goddamn broken it.
  335. 335.
    “It was a very... peculiar run-in. I’ll tell you about it over breakfast.”
  336. 336.
    >The others look at you, with obvious concern on their faces.
  337. 337.
    >”A run-in that happened... in your bed?” Beacon asks. “Are you sure it wasn’t Gaelle?”
  338. 338.
    >Like a lightning bolt, the hen grabs your pillow and hurls it with pinpoint accuracy.
  339. 339.
    >It slams right into his muzzle, with enough force that he’s actually knocked back ever so slightly.
  340. 340.
    >His muffled cry is music to your ears.
  341. 341.
    >But before you can question what Gaelle would be doing in your bed, she turns to you, beet red color vanishing off her face.
  342. 342.
    >”The flock’s that?” she asks, pointing to where your pillow had been.
  343. 343.
    >The bat’s last words to you ring out in your mind as you turn to look.
  344. 344.
    >There, sitting where your pillow had been, was a glass amulet.
  345. 345.
    >A Nazar amulet, straight out of your eighth-grade history teacher’s classroom.
  346. 346.
     
  347. 347.
     
  348. 348.
    “So you’ve never seen anything like this before?”
  349. 349.
    >The mysterious amulet you’d been gifted remained the topic de jure all morning.
  350. 350.
    >That wasn’t particularly surprising; it was the most “out there” development an adventure of yours has had thus far.
  351. 351.
    >What /was/ surprising was that it seemed in-equine in origin.
  352. 352.
    >At first, you’d assumed it was just another of the countless little coincidental similarities that existed between pony and human societies.
  353. 353.
    >But that seemed not to be so.
  354. 354.
    >”Never,” Beacon said. “But if I had to guess, it’s some Luna-tic thing.”
  355. 355.
    >He stood across the room from you, in front of a small mirror he’d hung on the wall.
  356. 356.
    >In between his words, he ran his teeth along his sky-blue feathers, occasionally setting one or plucking another out.
  357. 357.
    >It had come as a shock to you that most Pegasi consider preening a private thing, as Beacon had been fairly brazen about it for as long as you’d known him.
  358. 358.
    >A mare with whom the two of you had briefly worked even called it, “slutty.”
  359. 359.
    >”See the iris?” he continued. “Teal. Just like old Nightmare Moon herself.”
  360. 360.
    “I suppose, but the pupil is wrong. Weren’t her’s slit?”
  361. 361.
    >Finishing with his wings, Beacon began tossing his golden mane with a flick of his head.
  362. 362.
    >Trying to get that perfect Pegasus swoop he seems so fond of.
  363. 363.
    >You and Gaelle have a running tally of the most flips he’s taken to get it; so far, the record is twenty-five.
  364. 364.
    >”Poor craftsmareship.”
  365. 365.
    >Some/thing/ crafted this elaborate method of delivery, but they chose to blow it on a shittily made amulet?
  366. 366.
    >You’re not feeling that.
  367. 367.
    “Second opinion?” you ask, turning to Gaelle.
  368. 368.
    >She’s perched on the same top bunk she slept in, restringing her crossbow.
  369. 369.
    >Watching those talons work fills you with an envy you cannot possibly describe.
  370. 370.
    >”Dunno. Didn’t cross paths with bats much, my post was further north, but I’ve never seen it.”
  371. 371.
    >The string clicks into place, and she lets out a satisfied sigh.
  372. 372.
    >”Beacon might be right. For once.”
  373. 373.
    >You focus back on the medallion, as it floats aloft before you in a purple glow.
  374. 374.
    >Every intelligent thought in your head agrees: you ought to throw this thing out and be done with it.
  375. 375.
    >But for once, the pony sentimentality is winning.
  376. 376.
    >Is this really a piece of your old home? Somehow delivered through the breadth of the universe to you?
  377. 377.
    >The possibility is there, and real enough to stay your metaphorical hand.
  378. 378.
    >Without another moment’s deliberation, you slip the medallion around your neck.
  379. 379.
    >Beacon notices this, and whatever barb he had aimed at Gaelle is swiftly stymied.
  380. 380.
    >”Wha— do NOT tell me you’re keeping that thing! You don’t know where it's been. It could be cursed!”
  381. 381.
    >You intentionally point your ears stiffly back this time, to show him how EXTRA annoyed you are.
  382. 382.
    >He ought to be giving you more credit than that!
  383. 383.
    “I scanned this thing the moment Gaelle spotted it. This medallion is certified curse-free.”
  384. 384.
    >There /are/ a half dozen other types of spells you aren’t sure how to scan for yet, but he doesn’t need to know that.
  385. 385.
    >You can at least say with certainty it's not /cursed/.
  386. 386.
    >He winces, just a little.
  387. 387.
    >”Your funeral.”
  388. 388.
    >”You’re one to talk,” Gaelle adds, pointing an accusatory claw at the necklace Beacon always wears.
  389. 389.
    >A radiant golden sun, of course.
  390. 390.
    >”Doubt the bats’ll be too fond of that.”
  391. 391.
    >He scoffs, outright turning his nose up at the idea.
  392. 392.
    >”So what? Not my fault, they chose the Princess who went crazy.”
  393. 393.
    >You smile like an absolute fiend, reveling in the chance to throw his words back at him.
  394. 394.
    “Your funeral.”
  395. 395.
    >”That’s not even— Arg, whatever.”
  396. 396.
    >You feel it then, a slight slowing of your momentum.
  397. 397.
    >Gaelle confirms it a moment later.
  398. 398.
    >”End of the line,” she says with a nod towards the window.
  399. 399.
    >You head right to it, wanting to lay eyes on your destination.
  400. 400.
    >The town of Ponești, the closest one can get to Castle Sepulchria by train.
  401. 401.
     
  402. 402.
     
  403. 403.
    >Unfortunately, the window didn’t provide much of a view.
  404. 404.
    >Or any view, for that matter.
  405. 405.
    >The station was surrounded by a dense forest of the thickest trees you’d ever seen.
  406. 406.
    >They reminded you of California’s redwoods, although the trees themselves looked more like oaks.
  407. 407.
    >It was breathtaking, easily putting every other forest you’ve visited to shame.
  408. 408.
    >The only sign of civilization, besides the station itself, was an unmarked cobblestone path leading into the forest.
  409. 409.
    >The same path the three of you now trod.
  410. 410.
    >It made you feel like a real adventurer!
  411. 411.
    >You and your party, journeying through a shadowed forest to an unknown destination, decked out in your various fantasy accoutrements.
  412. 412.
    >You love this shit, it makes you feel alive in ways you never felt as a human.
  413. 413.
    >Too bad Beacon had to ruin the moment.
  414. 414.
    >”So how long are we gonna be stuck here?”
  415. 415.
    >You take a long, exaggerated look around you.
  416. 416.
    >All you see are trees.
  417. 417.
    “Stuck where? The forest?”
  418. 418.
    >He rolls his eyes at you.
  419. 419.
    >The NERVE!
  420. 420.
    >”You know what I mean! In this hamlet we’re going to.”
  421. 421.
    >Ponies.
  422. 422.
    >They don’t know how good they have it.
  423. 423.
    “The Countess’ carriage is coming to pick us up at nightfall.”
  424. 424.
    >He looks utterly flabbergasted.
  425. 425.
    >”And a ten AM train was the closest they had?”
  426. 426.
    >”Bats are bloody nocturnal,” Gaelle cuts in, jerking a thumb back the way you came. “That was probably the last train ‘till after dusk.”
  427. 427.
    >He sarcastically hums back, “So how exactly should we occupy ourselves ‘till then? Daydrinking?”
  428. 428.
    >The sound of exasperation that escaped you could’ve been crowned a new onomatopoeia.
  429. 429.
    “What about seeing the sights?!”
  430. 430.
    >He holds out one sarcastic hoof, utterly indifferent to the majesty around him.
  431. 431.
    “There, sights seen.”
  432. 432.
    >You almost facepalm, or you suppose, face hoof.
  433. 433.
    >But the metal horseshoes you’re wearing make you reconsider.
  434. 434.
    >”This place is barely hanging on the edge of the map as-is. It’ll probably make Ponyville look like... Manehatten...”
  435. 435.
    >The venom drains from his voice as the three of you finally come to the end of the path.
  436. 436.
    >And what a sight it is.
  437. 437.
    >There’s nothing to truly separate the town of Ponești from the forest around it.
  438. 438.
    >No clearing, no valley, not even a thinning of the trees.
  439. 439.
    >Yet, you’d have to be a fool to miss it.
  440. 440.
    >Because these trees are full of LIFE.
  441. 441.
    >Treehouses, built onto, around, and throughout them, are everywhere.
  442. 442.
    >Like someone carved the buildings of a Renaissance fair out of the trees, but they kept growing despite that.
  443. 443.
    >It's not just your standard medieval architecture either.
  444. 444.
    >Everything bends, twists, comes to jagged points...
  445. 445.
    >Like an impressionist painting of a spooky town, or a Tim Burton movie.
  446. 446.
    >That’s not what shut Beacon up, though; his appreciation for architecture is outright philistinian.
  447. 447.
    >No, what shut him up is the fact that the whole town is in the middle of the biggest goddamn party you’ve ever seen.
  448. 448.
    >It's past ten AM on a weekday, most responsible Thestrals ought to be asleep.
  449. 449.
    >But they’re in the cobbled streets, they’re hanging off their branches and balconies, they're zipping through the air!
  450. 450.
    >All while laughing and singing in pitches that the three of you sometimes can’t even hear.
  451. 451.
    >From somewhere further into town, you can even hear the sounds of a band.
  452. 452.
    >Some fusion of bluegrass and scooby-doo chase tunes.
  453. 453.
    >Beacon’s already tapping his hoof.
  454. 454.
    >You give him a playful nudge.
  455. 455.
    “Still think we’ll be bored?”
  456. 456.
    >Before he can answer, a bat drops out of the sky in front of you.
  457. 457.
    >Somehow having balanced three mugs on his wings through that landing, he immediately shoves them in your face, babbling something in Thestrailian all the while.
  458. 458.
    >Unfortunately, Thestrailian is a language you find utterly indecipherable.
  459. 459.
    >It's a strange mix of Equestrian “English”, a fair few antiquated words, and pitches imperceptible to your ear.
  460. 460.
    >Your comprehension of his greeting is of little concern to the stallion, however, as the moment you’ve got a telekinetic hold on the mugs, he’s off again.
  461. 461.
    >You waste no time handing one off to each of your friends, taking an extra moment to savor the stupefied look on Beacon's face.
  462. 462.
    >”Okay, okay.” He says, “But in my defense, I was right about the day drinking.”
  463. 463.
    >With a shocking lack of trepidation, he takes a big sip.
  464. 464.
    >And despite yourself, you wait.
  465. 465.
    >Do you feel bad using him as a guinea pig for whatever stuff you’ve just been handed?
  466. 466.
    >A little.
  467. 467.
    >But not enough that you want to be the first one drinking it.
  468. 468.
    >For a moment, you’re worried your paranoia was being validated, as about halfway through the sip, Beacon’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.
  469. 469.
    >He spits it out, spraying the stuff everywhere like a spit take.
  470. 470.
    >”HOLY CELESTIA!”
  471. 471.
    “What’s wrong!?” you ask, fear rising in your chest.
  472. 472.
    >”This is DELICIOUS!”
  473. 473.
    >You nearly fucking strangle him.
  474. 474.
    >Bastard had you actually worried, unbelievable!
  475. 475.
    >Gaelle asks what you’re thinking, “Then why’d you spray it everywhere?”
  476. 476.
    >He blushes a little, coughing the remnants out of his throat.
  477. 477.
    >”It caught me off guard, okay? I didn’t think it’d be that good.”
  478. 478.
    >Satisfied you're not about to repeat the “unfried green tomato incident”, you take a sip yourself... and nearly mirror Beacon's reaction.
  479. 479.
    >It WAS delicious.
  480. 480.
    >Some kind of mulled cider, but where you'd expect apple, you got maple.
  481. 481.
    >Almost like drinking maple syrup, just somehow not disgusting.
  482. 482.
    >And while it's not alcoholic, you do feel a sudden pleasant warmth in your chest.
  483. 483.
    >Soon it suffuses your whole body, and you realize just what's got all these bats in such a good mood.
  484. 484.
    >You feel great!
  485. 485.
    >And why shouldn't you?
  486. 486.
    >You're off on a new adventure with your friends, surrounded by the wonderful sounds of song.
  487. 487.
    >A song, you realize, that is not the chaotic cacophony of drunkards you'd taken it for.
  488. 488.
    >Instead, it is one melody the whole village is singing in tune.
  489. 489.
    >A tune that you instinctively /feel/ is back-up vocals.
  490. 490.
    >But to what?
  491. 491.
    >Then it hits you, they're the backup vocals to YOU.
  492. 492.
    >YOUR song.
  493. 493.
    >You could sing it right now, the lyrics are on the tip of your tongue.
  494. 494.
    >You've just got to open your mouth and...!
  495. 495.
    >You throttle that thought like a female extra in the opening of an episodic cop show.
  496. 496.
    >You know what this is, you’re wise to its tricks!
  497. 497.
    >You almost fell for it once, NEVER again!
  498. 498.
    >These ponies and their freaky ad-libbed musical numbers!
  499. 499.
    >The way they all naturally fall into sync.
  500. 500.
    >Lyrics, choreographed dance numbers, everything!
  501. 501.
    >It's unnatural! You REFUSE to participate!
  502. 502.
    >Unfortunately, this mental battle doesn't go unnoticed.
  503. 503.
    >Beacon looks at you with quite possibly the smuggest expression you've ever seen.
  504. 504.
    >”You felt a heartsong coming on, didn't you, Anon?”
  505. 505.
    >Damnation, were you already humming along without realizing it?
  506. 506.
    >With your entire body rebelling against your refusal to break into song, you knew you couldn't lie your way out of this one.
  507. 507.
    “Possibly,” you say through gritted teeth.
  508. 508.
    >”And you’re still fighting it? Come on, stallion!” he shouted, clapping a wing against your back. “Live a little!”
  509. 509.
    >He already knew your feelings on these so-called “heartsongs”; there was no need to make them known again.
  510. 510.
    >Maybe if you sang them this time, he'd listen...
  511. 511.
    >No! Bad horse brain!
  512. 512.
    >You take another huge drink in an attempt to quell these feelings, realizing too late that the drink might be what's exacerbated them to begin with.
  513. 513.
    >Speaking of the bats and their drink, their vocals are starting to build.
  514. 514.
    >Someone's about to take the lead role, you can feel it.
  515. 515.
    >And you don't have to wait long to find out who.
  516. 516.
    >Beacon, with a voice you'd scornfully refer to as “velvety”, effortlessly steps into the shoes you've spurned.
  517. 517.
    >”When you're caught up in a song—”
  518. 518.
     
  519. 519.
     
  520. 520.
    >Thus, you entered into an extremely abstract kind of hell.
  521. 521.
    >A walk through town, with your body fighting to break out into dance every step.
  522. 522.
    >All while your friend sang about how much fun you have if you'd just give in, backed up by an entire goddamn town of strangers.
  523. 523.
    >A pony would probably find it charming, but you found it /obscenely/ disconcerting.
  524. 524.
    >Every note only strengthens your resolve not to cave to whatever cognitohazard causes this.
  525. 525.
    >Even Gaelle joined in after a while, obviously relishing in the schadenfreude of watching you squirm at something most ponies considered utterly mundane.
  526. 526.
    >Spared whatever part of the pony brain that allowed for the psychic transfer of lyrics, she instead harmonized her birdsong with the bats’ back-up vocals.
  527. 527.
    >It was beautiful, she had a beautiful voice.
  528. 528.
    >You should tell her, sing it to her even!
  529. 529.
    >Perhaps a ballad...
  530. 530.
    >No, no, NO!
  531. 531.
    >That doesn’t even make sense!
  532. 532.
    >Why would you sing Gaelle a /ballad/? That’d just be weird.
  533. 533.
    >She’d probably think you were crazy.
  534. 534.
    >Blessedly, before your sanity could degrade until that was true, the song came to an end.
  535. 535.
    >Right as you entered the town square.
  536. 536.
    >Beacon let the particularly long note he was holding drop off, and the bats gradually faded into a new tune.
  537. 537.
    >Beacon thankfully doesn’t join them.
  538. 538.
    >”Really? Nothing?” he asks, clearly shocked and a little offended. “/I/ thought that was pretty good. What about you, Gaelle?”
  539. 539.
    >She smirks. ”Yeah, you've got a great soprano! I'm surprised the monastery let you keep your balls.”
  540. 540.
    >Now /you/ get to enjoy a little schadenfreude treat as her comment trips him up. Literally!
  541. 541.
    >”That rumor was nothing but VILE and unsubstantiated slander!” he cries the moment he manages to regain steady footing. “The Mythic Dawn would never do something so...” he shudders, and admittedly, you do too, “...barbaric! Besides, do you really think /Celestia/ of all ponies would let us get away with that?”
  542. 542.
    >Your interest in being proselytized on “Mother Goddess Celestia” was somehow even less than your interest in being serenaded was.
  543. 543.
    >So, you elect to turn your attention elsewhere.
  544. 544.
    >Luckily for you, there’s a lot to see.
  545. 545.
    >Whatever festival was going on, clearly the center of town was the center of it too.
  546. 546.
    >For lying before you was some kind of strange altar.
  547. 547.
    >It was a huge wooden structure, at least a story tall, with a large flat platform at the top.
  548. 548.
    >All very ornately carved too, with what appeared to be scenes of Thestrals hunting various creatures.
  549. 549.
    >Some you recognized, some you didn’t.
  550. 550.
    >Beyond the carving, though, the platform itself seemed to be full of holes, whose purpose wouldn’t have been obvious if they weren’t actively being used.
  551. 551.
    >They were for /bleeding/.
  552. 552.
    >For lying on that platform was a body.
  553. 553.
    >A humongous mess of gnarled wood and leaves, shaped like a massive, malformed impression of a pony.
  554. 554.
    >Something similar to sap bled from a dozen wounds in its body, oozing through the holes and dripping down into boiling cauldrons set below.
  555. 555.
    >It was a fascinating sight, only rivaled by the fact that you couldn’t discern what was lying on that altar.
  556. 556.
    “What /is/ that?” you marvel aloud.
  557. 557.
    >Your friends are startled out of their row with a mutual “huh?”
  558. 558.
    >It takes them both a moment to take in the sights, but Gaelle’s the first to speak.
  559. 559.
    >”Looks like a successful hunt, I’d wager.”
  560. 560.
    >Beacon’s eyes flick from the boiling caldrons to the mug hanging off his wing.
  561. 561.
    >The air is filled with the smell of cooking maple.
  562. 562.
    >These two things click for you the same moment they do for him.
  563. 563.
    >”SWEET CELESTIA!” he shouts, flinging the mug as far away from himself as he could. “Have we been drinking this thing’s BLOOD!?”
  564. 564.
    >Gaelle drinks deeply from her own mug.
  565. 565.
    >”Yeah. Seems so.”
  566. 566.
    >You admittedly find yourself similarly trepidatious of the brew now, as you eye your own mug uneasily.
  567. 567.
    >It /seems/ harmless, boiled and... whatever else they’re doing to it.
  568. 568.
    >But if it gives you hepatitis, you’re going to be pissed.
  569. 569.
    >Seeing as that damage would be done by now regardless, you take another sip yourself just to make Beacon squirm.
  570. 570.
    >He cringes deeply, and soon that cringe turns into a retch.
  571. 571.
    >Honestly, you’re impressed how much this doesn’t taste like blood!
  572. 572.
    >Gaelle, utterly indifferent to the sounds Beacon is now making, gestures to the corpse.
  573. 573.
    >”I’m stumped. Got any ideas?”
  574. 574.
    >You smile, and an earnest smile. Not the slightly forced one that the song was putting on your face.
  575. 575.
    “Not /yet/...”
  576. 576.
     
  577. 577.
     
  578. 578.
    >You love watching Anonymous work.
  579. 579.
    >Thankfully, the batty master of ceremonies had been keen on letting the tree of you take a look at that beastie.
  580. 580.
    >Beacon was off jabbering with the bloke now, which left the two of you alone to do the /real/ work.
  581. 581.
    >”Could you cut a portion of the arm here?” Anonymous asks, a small glass held over his eye.
  582. 582.
    >Using your mighty talon, you peel some of the “flesh” off.
  583. 583.
    >It's a harder ask than you would have admitted, it certainly /feels/ like you’re pulling apart wood.
  584. 584.
    >Probably is.
  585. 585.
    >With a hard yank, you pass the piece of barky skin and sappy tree meat over to him.
  586. 586.
    >”Fascinating!” he whispers as he takes a deeper look at it, all while poking and prodding it with his magic. “It doesn’t seem to be animated by magic like the Timberwolves of the Everfree. See these fibers? They mimic the tendons of our own muscles! This has to be some distant relative of clade Arborea. Like the Treants!”
  587. 587.
    >You caught maybe half of that, much to your chagrin.
  588. 588.
    >It’s hardly /your/ fault he’s practically your dream mate!
  589. 589.
    >A pony with the wit and guile of a griffon, who’d have thought somecreature like this even existed?
  590. 590.
    >Hardly twenty minutes and he already had a working theory of how to classify this beaut!
  591. 591.
    >But you could’ve listened to him work on it for hours.
  592. 592.
    >Of course, chiorcolt had to ruin it.
  593. 593.
    >”He says they’re all around this forest,” Beacon said, approaching with that master of ceremonies. “The bats usually leave them be, and vice versa, but this one had been getting so close to town they felt they didn’t have a choice.”
  594. 594.
    >In very, VERY heavily accented equestrian, the bat continued, “It was prowling around just outside the borders of town for nights at a time. Like it was waiting for something. After nearly a fortnight had passed, we knew something needed to be done.”
  595. 595.
    >The MC smiled a fanged smile, “The baker’s son got to lead the party. Every filly in town wants his hoof now.”
  596. 596.
    >”Darn shame we didn’t get to see it alive,” Beacon says, completely ignoring what the old stallion had said.
  597. 597.
    >”Ah, but the dead can teach us so much, Beacon!” Anon says, “For example, did you know its blood was edible?”
  598. 598.
    >”All blood is edible,” the MC says.
  599. 599.
    >”I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
  600. 600.
    >For you, none of that was really any concern.
  601. 601.
    >Except for one thing the old stallion had said.
  602. 602.
    >”Like it was waiting for something.”
  603. 603.
    >It surely wasn’t the three of you, but... You don’t like the coincidence.
  604. 604.
    >The four of you stay there, on the altar, for most of the morning.
  605. 605.
    >The three of you cataloguing the creature, while the old bat regales you with the tale of the hunt.
  606. 606.
    >Even though it only happened the night before, it already feels exaggerated like a family story passed down a few generations.
  607. 607.
    >Though Anon, as usual, seems adept at sifting out the truly important details.
  608. 608.
    >”Really, head trauma?” he asks, interrupting the story. “I honestly wouldn’t have thought the head of this thing to be that important.”
  609. 609.
    >The old bat nods. “That’s right. Little Barmbrack put a throwing spear right through its eye and felled the beast! Although I guess he isn’t so little anymore.”
  610. 610.
    >Anon casts a discerning eye upon the head, an odd mix of pony and wolf, with an oversized mouth of wicked wooden teeth.
  611. 611.
    >”Fascinating! If you’re done bleeding it for cider, I’d love to autopsy its head. I’d just rather not accidentally mix in some spinal fluid and give you all a prion disease.”
  612. 612.
    >”A what?”
  613. 613.
    >Beacon abruptly stamps his hoof, “Hey, shh shh. Quiet!”
  614. 614.
    >For as much as he likes to joke around, you can tell when the pegasus is being serious.
  615. 615.
    >You hush up immediately, as does Anon.
  616. 616.
    >And when the old bat tries to start the story back up, Anon clamps his mouth shut with his telekinesis.
  617. 617.
    >It's past midday now, and nearly the whole rest of the village has gone to bed.
  618. 618.
    >So, without the music and sounds of singing, you ought to hear the typical sounds of the forest.
  619. 619.
    >You don’t.
  620. 620.
    >There’s nothing, no sound at all.
  621. 621.
    >But it still speaks to you.
  622. 622.
    >This is the sound of an entire forest hiding from a predator.
  623. 623.
    >”What did you hear?” Anon whispers.
  624. 624.
    >Beacon’s eyes dart around, “A tree fall.”
  625. 625.
    >Suddenly, a second crash comes from the edge of the village.
  626. 626.
    >Shortly thereafter, a sonic cry goes up.
  627. 627.
    >The old bat shakes himself free of Anon’s magic, ”That’s the day watchmare!”
  628. 628.
    >Beacon turns his wings in the sun, golden blades glinting among the feathers.
  629. 629.
    >You shoulder your crossbow in turn.
  630. 630.
    >Anon steps out, gazing in the direction of the growing commotion.
  631. 631.
    >”Looks like we may be about to find out what it was waiting for.”

The Long and Short of It (RGRE)

by SQA-non

The Long and Short of It (RGRE) Part 2

by SQA-non

The Long and Short of It (RGRE) Part 3

by SQA-non

Źdźbło Bezwzględny

by SQA-non

THERE'S A CHANGELING IN MY GAT DANG HOUSE

by SQA-non