PotW AKA TNTHG AKA The Play: Finale + Bonus Epilogues


                                            Originally Published May 17th, 2013


                                            >Day “I waited two months for this shit?” in Equestria.

                                            >You are now Berry Punch.

                                            >Or, as everyp0ny else called you: Alkie Anon.

                                            >You never did find out why they called you Anon…or why they even called you Alkie.

                                            >You say your name at least six times to everyp0ny you meet, and you’ve never even touched alcohol.

                                            >M: “How far do you think we’ve walked, Alkie?”

                                            I DON’T KNOW, TWELVE? I’M MOT YOUR PERSHONAL GPSHH YOU TWAT!

                                            >Guess it was just one of those mysteries of life.

                                            >Although…Monk did have a point; you’ve been walking for half of the day, and the two of you broke into a sprint after that tree fell.

                                            >Silence wrapped around you as the two of you walked through the night.

                                            >M:  ”You know Alkie, if this place wasn’t a giant rape dungeon, it would actually be kinda nice.”

                                            Hm? Oh yeah, right.

                                            >As you spoke, you looked around and could see that Monk was right:

                                            >The vast dark blue sky, dotted by stars and broken by trees, flowers thriving in the moonlight near the scattered bushes, the giant metal horn that’s shining like a bit in a goat’s ass, the-

                                            >”Wait a second…flowers at night?”


                                            >M: “What the hell is that?” Tinges of fear colored Monk’s voice.

                                            >You trotted over to the bushes and began examining the fruits on them.

                                            Monk; We’re in an open-air rape dungeon with a Hunger Gamesh motif, and you’re reallllllllly going to ashk about the gigantic shilver ho-*hic*-rn?

                                            >Monk looks at the ground and kicks at the pebbles with his hoof.

                                            >M: “The book says it’s a different color…”Monk mumbles something about books being better under his breath.

                                            >The berries are small and oval shaped with a bright cherry red skin…

                                            >A plan begins to form in your head, and I would tell you what it is, but that would ruin it for the readers.

                                            These might make a nice wine.

                                            >You say as you gather them up by the hoofful, giggling slightly as they seemingly stick to your hoof of their own accord.

                                            >Nop0ny knew if it was either magic or roadside gum and poo that allowed things to stick to their hooves, but everyp0ne believes it’s magic.

                                            >Magic makes everything seem nicer…except for rape dungeons.


                                            >With the berries gathered safely in your very poofy mane, you turn back to Monk, who started mumbling about iron prices.

                                            So, what do we do now, Mishter “Issaw the book and read the movie”?

                                            >M:  “Well the-…’saw the book?’”

                                            …You’re drunk!

                                            >Monk stares at you for a few seconds; clearly your witty retort went right over his head.

                                            >Clearly.

                                            >M: “Okay: we have two options: We can either walk down to the Cornucopia now, or we can wait for Silent Canary to send her genetically augmented rape-wolf clones after us.”

                                            >”Hmmmm…” you think.

                                            Hmmmm…

                                            >M: “ARE YOU REALLY THINKING ABOUT WHICH ONE TO CHOOSE?!”, Monk yells as he lunges in your face.

                                            >Tiny flames dance behind his pupils.

                                            I fell asleep near this part of the movie.

                                            >Steam whistles from his ears as Monk sighs and rubs behind his eyes.

                                            >M: ”Okay. How about we walk down to the big shiny thing before the mean bad doggies fuck our brains out?”

                                            Thersh no need to be a dick about it.

                                            >After pulling yourself off the floor, you and Monk proceed to walk to the Cornucopia, blissfully unaware of the rape-wolves that were NOT racing lustily after you.

                                            >It’s a shame, really.

                                            >I had this whole scene planned out too.

                                            >But Flutterrapist didn’t have room for rape-wolves in her budget.

                                            >So they got cut.


                                            >Five minutes later, you and Monk found yourself at the base of the Cornucopia.

                                            >And you were startled to find…absolutely nothing.

                                            >Well, nothing aside from the gaudy, seven-meter long horn which towered above the prairie.

                                            >M: “This is really weird.”

                                            What? Getting kidnapped into a death-game wasn’t odd enough for*hic* ya’?

                                            >M: ”It’s not that…it’s just that there should be more of us le-THE FUCK!?”Monk’s voice goes high enough to shrivel even the mightiest of testicles.

                                            What’s the matter with you?

                                            >M: “SOMETHING PUSHED MY LEG UP!”

                                            >Which is what you would have heard, if Monk wasn’t screaming like a dog whistle.

                                            >S:  “MY EARS!” Smudgey howls as he breaches the surface and knocks Monk onto his side.

                                            OHCELESTIATHERAPEWOLVESAREHERETOFUCKUSRUNMONK!!

                                            >Just as you turn to flee the rape, a wet, gritty and vaguely p0ny-shaped blob crashes into the right side of your face.

                                            >And it scurries across your body and latches itself onto your back.

                                            OHCELESTIATHERAPEWOLFCAUGHTMEFUCKNODONTFUCKMONKHELPME

                                            >S: “MY EARS ARE BLEEDING”

                                            >SS: “WHY ARE WE YELLING”

                                            >M: ”I DON’T WANT TO DIE A VIRGIN”

                                            >wat.

                                            >Everyone stops yelling and stares at Monk.

                                            >The scabby Slasher on your back is the first to break the silence.

                                            >SS: “That’s really inappropriate, Monk.”


                                            >Wait…you know this voice.

                                            Slasher?

                                            >SS: “Alkie?” Slasher responds in kind.

                                            >S: ”Alkie!”

                                            Smudgey!

                                            >SS: “Smudgey!”

                                            >M: “Slasher!”

                                            >SS: “Monk!”

                                            >M: “Alkie!”…

                                            >The introductions went on for another five hours, until you were super sure that everyone knew everyone else’s name.

                                            “So,” you growl, your voice a little horse from non-stop talking, “are we all that’s left?”

                                            >Smudgey takes off Neil’s hat and clutches it to his chest.

                                            >Slasher gurgles out a mixture between a sigh and a laugh, and then hacks a spongy red mass onto the side of the Cornucopia.

                                            >Monk breaks the silence with his equilly horse voice.

                                            >M: “What about the pickle-monster and the giant cat?”

                                            >FS: “F-for the LAST TIME: THEY PROBABLY S-STROKED EACH OTHER TO DEATH BY N-NOW!”

                                            >A speaker pushes out of the ground underneath Slasher, and shakes him onto the ground.

                                            >FS: “Welcome, g-gentlecolts…T-TO THE FINAL EVENT!”


                                            >Everyone stares at the speaker with nervous, fearful, anticipation.

                                            >Except for Slasher, whose eyes roll back into his head as thick blood drips from his mouth.

                                            >”Did he have…no; they don’t cause that.”

                                            >But something did beat the shit out of him pretty good….bad?

                                            >Whatever it was, it whooped his ass.

                                            >FS: “Until now, all of you have been out through a test of will to see how worthy of me you are. An-”

                                            >M: “We didn’t take a test of will,” Monk gestures at himself and you, “so can we just leave?”

                                            Yeah, I’d be a terrible match for you.

                                            >M: “He’s right: Alkie rapes trees.”

                                            I just can’t help myself near foliage.

                                            >M: “He likes the feeling of bark as it scrapes across his anus”

                                            And Monk’s a virgin!

                                            >FS: “SHUT UP! WHAT IS WITH THE RAPIDFIRE DIALOGUE BETWEEN YOU GUYS?”

                                            >Normally, you’d have launched some kind of “snappy” comeback by now.

                                            >But you were busy slap-fighting with Monk over the whole “virgin” comment.

                                            >Apparently, he has a Caneighdian mare-friend.

                                            >And they have lots of sex.

                                            >Out of the corner of your eye, you see the speaker turn to Slasher and Smudgey, and it begins speaking giddily.

                                            >FS: “It looks like Monk and Alkie have started without you, but I explain the challenge to be fair:”

                                            >FS: “You will all fight to death, and whoever survives will get loved by me forever.”

                                            > The speaker retracts into the ground, and a table covered in knives and guns rises up in its place.

                                            >FS: “Good luck~~!”


                                            >As you stand over Slasher, knife in hoof, poised for the kill, you can’t help but think back to the berries in your hair.

                                            >”Maybe now would…when did I get this knife?”

                                            >You feel your hoof get guided towards his chest.

                                            >SS: “Just stab right here between the ribs.”

                                            >You drop the knife as you leap off him, and it strikes point-down near his cheek.

                                            WHAT THE FUCK SLASHER?

                                            >Slasher stays on his back, and tears start rolling down his face.

                                            >SS: “I’ve been beaten, crushed, flew a hundred feet though the air when Disc’s death machine exploded, and lost enough blood to paint a castle.”

                                            >His voice is crawling out, lacking the strength to project further than a couple feet.

                                            >Another lump of spongy flesh frees itself from Slasher’s throat in a raspy, hacking birth.

                                            >SS: “So forgive me if I want to try and finish what the u-”

                                            Shut up.

                                            >You pull out some of the berries from your mane and toss them onto Slasher’s chest, each landing with a soft “thunk”.

                                            >SS: “What the hell are these?”

                                            >You let out a small chuckle and begin digging out the rest of the berries.

                                            I had planned on using these to make a wine for Fluttershy if I ended up winning this game.

                                            >You divvy them out between Smudgey, Monk and yourself.

                                            Moon Treacle Berries. INSANELY high levels of cyanide.

                                            >You smile as Slasher quickly swallows the hoofful of poison, and you quickly follow suit

                                            So gents,

                                            >Slasher’s body starts twitching as foamy spittle pours past his lips.

                                            >You can feel your jaw begin to lock up as the poison spreads.

                                            What do you say we deny her the pleasure of watching us kill for her love?

                                            >The ground greets you with a heavy embrace.

                                            >Before your mind clocks out for its final shift, you can hear the sound of chewing and swallowing.


                                            Epilogue one


                                            >Underneath the Field, a twice dead p0ny ran through the main tunnel to Fluttershy’s Control Booth.

                                            >You are now that pony.

                                            >And that pony is not a pony.

                                            >But more on that later.

                                            >What matters now is that you are Raritan.

                                            >And you were approaching the Magical barrier.

                                            Dammit. I’m running out of time.

                                            >In order to make sure no one stumble onto the Field, you had Twilight help you carve out a section of land and transport it into a dimension which co-existed with the Equestrian plane.

                                            >But the land happens to be part of a Buffalo graveyard, and they probably wouldn’t be too happy if they found out their ancestors had been defiled…

                                            >Or that the whole graveyard was missing for the two days they were gone.

                                            >But that wasn’t what was worrying you.

                                            >Stopping in front of the barrier, you lift your wing and press the button strapped underneath.

                                            >Any angry spirits watching would notice a snow white Pegasus slowly dissolving from view, and the ripple of a magic wall being penetrated.

                                            >If there were such a thing as spirits.

                                            >Silly Buffalo with their outdated beliefs.


                                            >Back in Equestria, the doors to her chamber stood in front of you.

                                            I hope she hasn’t left yet

                                            >You mumble to yourself, before pressing the button underneath your wing.

                                            >You grimace as your bones and skin stretch and deform to fit your new body.

                                            >You are now Neil Peart.

                                            >Bet you though he died, huh?

                                            >Nope!

                                            >You push open the doors to find Flutters getting up from her seat.

                                            >She turns toward the sound of the creaking hinges, and a big grin appears when she sees you.

                                            Did you have fun?

                                            >FS: “OHMYGOSHNEILITWASSOMUCHFUN! This was one of the BEST LARPG’s I’ve ever played.”

                                            >She’s hopping around now, excitement practically oozing out of her.

                                            >”Remember what this was all for.  Ask her now!”

                                            >Oh yeah!

                                            >Gathering up your courage and shaking away you nervousness, you begin to speak.

                                            So, Fluttershy?

                                            >FS: ”Yes Neil?”

                                            Is being the dungeon master of a tsundere “love me or die” RPG your fetish?

                                            >Yellow Quiet bursts out in loud peals of laughter.

                                            >FS: ”Nope! But thanks anyway Neil. This was the most fun I’ve had in long t-time.”

                                            >She flitters out of the door that leads to Ponyville, giggling to herself.


                                            >You stand there in the silence of rejection for a brief period.

                                            >Well shit.

                                            >”Well shit.”

                                            Damnit.

                                            >A defeated moan escapes your lips as you lift your wing once more and grimace in anticipation of the pain.

                                            >A small shock travels from the button to your body, prepping your cells to take on a new form.

                                            >Your wings retract into your back, and their bones migrate around your thrashing form.

                                            >Your hooves fracture into segments as layers of muscle and skin grow over them, and your arms and legs stretch and compress to accommodate your new posture.

                                            >You stand up shakily as your tail shrinks and your fur turns thin and colorless.

                                            >You grasp the desk for balance, grateful for the use of the hands you were born with.

                                            >You are now Anon.

                                            >Looking out of the window, you can see the corpses casting shadows on the Cornucopia.

                                            How am I going to clean this up?

                                            >You pace around the room, stroking your beard in deep thought.

                                            Well…Twilight did say she wanted to experiment with Neighcromancy. And it would let me try a new fetish!

                                            >Giggling like a schoolgirl, you skip towards Ponyville to get your autographed copy of the Necronomicon, definitely certain that the upcoming zombie apocalypse will end with you

                                            >Fucking Fluttershy


                                            Epilogue two


                                            >Off towards the edges of the graveyard, having finally returned home to the Equestrian Plane, the starting room lay quiet.

                                            >The walls had lowered back into place after the tributes tried to flee from Anon’s elaborate fetish guessing attempt.

                                            >A guess that ended in a very long cold shower.

                                            >Come to think of it, the walls never closed completely.

                                            >A large rock was placed in the way of one of the panels, leaving a gap that was just large enough to squeeze through with a bit of effort.

                                            >A light draft carried air out of the room, and anyone standing by in the way of the breeze would notice…a very particular aroma.

                                            >It’s a musky smell, with hints of sweat, shame, dander and brine.

                                            >A paw reaches out from inside the building, spotted with bite marks and covered by a thin layer of fur.

                                            >A green, bumpy figure quickly follows after the arm, and then he turns back to reach under the gap.

                                            >”Easy!” He cries as claws dig into his wrist, drawing green ichor in their search for a firm grip.

                                            >He pulls out his companion, who is drenched in a fluid that smells strongly of vinegar.

                                            >They stared silently into the afternoon sky for a few moments before the picklewolf broke the silence.

                                            >J:  “So…my place on Tuesday?”

                                            The large cat smiles at this.

                                            >P:  “I’ll bring the handcuffs.” He said before drawing in his lover for a long, deep kiss.

                                            >Picklehead and Jchallo, the cat and the picklewolf, broke the kiss to exchange a single look before beginning the long, bowl-legged walk home.

                                            >It was a look that said:

                                            >”Best. Aduction. Ever.”


                                            (And with that, The Not The Hunger Games came to a close: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04854XqcfCY)