x by Rortarg


                                            x by Rortarg


                                            https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/18880638/#q18889181

                                            https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/23888490/#23919201


                                            ---


                                            Part 1: Unexpected Encounter

                                            Point of view: Anonymous


                                            “Get out of the way, you insignificant little shits! Out of the way, or I’ll rape each and every one of you!”

                                            >Your subordinate yells further profanity at the small group of terrified fillies that were playing in the road in front of your patrol.

                                            >They scatter in fear, with many of them bumping into each other and tripping over in their frantic attempt to escape.

                                            >The street is soon empty, except for the still bouncing ball that the fillies had been playing with.

                                            >The ball rolls towards you, and comes to a rest against your foot. You absentmindedly pop it with a casual stab of your silver sword.

                                            > Night Watch turns to you, still red in the face from his yelling.

                                            “Damn brats, they need to be more respectful”.

                                            >You raise an eyebrow and glance down at your armoured minion

                                            “Perhaps we should get a trumpeter to follow us down the street? He could play a fanfare to announce our arrival. That way, all the children and civilians will be able to hear us coming, and will know to clear the streets in preparation for our arrival”.

                                            >Night Watch’s eyes widen at the thought.

                                            “That’s a fantastic idea, sir! We could get a banner and standard too!”

                                            “I was joking.”

                                            “Oh, right. I knew that. Very funny, sir”

                                            >I few other members of your squad chuckle at Night Watch’s expense.

                                            >The young pony looked around sheepishly, before taking his place back in formation.

                                            >You sigh. The kid meant well, but he was sometimes a little too enthusiastic.

                                            “Alright men, let’s get this patrol done with”.

                                            >In unison, your heavily armoured squad of stallions begins to march down the now deserted street.


                                            >You were almost thankful for those reckless fillies. It was nice to have brief interruption to the monotonous routine that these daily patrols had become.

                                            >However, no matter how dull these vigils may be, you do begrudgingly accept their necessity.

                                            >While these patrols might be branded as “keeping the order and peace”, their true purpose was to frighten the locals. It was to scare them into submission. It was an exercise in intimidation.

                                            >However, it wasn’t your squad of thirty heavily armed and armoured stony-faced stallions that terrified the citizens of Canterlot, nor was it the verbal (and often physical) acts of violence.

                                            >No, the thing that really sent them cowering and running was you. And to be perfectly honest, you couldn’t blame them.

                                            >Your spikey and deceptively bulky armour accentuated and exaggerated the shape of your muscles. Your silver cloak billowed ominously behind you. Your steel sword glinted under the moonlight.

                                            >You weren’t ashamed to admit that you looked like a fucking badass. You looked like a horrifying and monstrous badass, but a badass nonetheless.

                                            >It also didn’t hurt that you stood twice as tall as a normal pony. Even the large stallions at your side didn’t come up to your chest.

                                            >Sometimes it was difficult not to get caught up in the charade. You had to constantly remind yourself that you were putting on a performance.

                                            >Your fearsome reputation was mostly a fantasy. That ball was the only thing you’ve ever stabbed with your elegant sword.


                                            >Your brooding is interrupted by a cold gust of wind that blows through the barren, moonlit street.

                                            >It sends a chill up your spine. You resist the urge to shudder, in a refusal to show any weakness, no matter how small.

                                            >The puff of breeze stirs up a swirl of leaves and litter around you.

                                            >Your thoughts turn to your pets. Surely, right now, they’re waiting for you up at the castle.

                                            >The thought of them brings comfort to you for the remainder of your uneventful patrol.

                                            >You arrive back at the palace a few hours later, with your legs feeling tired from all that marching

                                            >You dismiss your squad, and begin the short walk back to your room.

                                            >As you round a corner, you spot Skip Honcho, the Captain of the Royal Guard. The dark muscular pony is in deep conversation with an elegant mare with a pink coat and fancy red mane.

                                            >When Skip spots you, his brow furrows.

                                            “Anon, come here. I want a word with you”.

                                            >You suppress an expression of surprise.

                                            >This is the first time a pony other than Nightmare Moon has dared give you an order.

                                            >You feel your blood pressure rise alongside your anger.

                                            >You've only met Skip a few times, and he didn't strike you as a particularly stupid pony. You didn't think he would make this kind of mistake.

                                            >You’re tempted to ignore him and simply walk past, but you can’t let this disrespect go unaddressed.

                                            >You put on a neutral expression, and then approach the pair of ponies with confident yet neutral strides.


                                            “Hello there. Skip, isn't it?”

                                            >Skip snorts, but otherwise ignores your greeting

                                            “Anon, I’ll have you explain yourself right now”

                                            >He speaks sternly and with authority, almost like how a teacher would scold a child.

                                            >You’re taken aback by his lack of courtesy. Who the fuck does he think you are? Is he stupid? Does he want to make you his enemy?

                                            >Your anger almost boils over, but it is tempered by your confusion and curiosity.

                                            >He wants you to explain yourself? As far as you’re aware, you haven’t done anything wrong. You have no idea what this stumpy horse is talking about.

                                            >You pretend to adjust your amour in an attempt to stall. Cogs turn in your mind as you assess this unexpected situation.

                                            >You can’t admit ignorance, or else Skip will take control of the conversation. You also can’t let him think you need to answer to him.

                                            >Taking this into consideration, you could laugh at him, ruffle his hair affectionately and then walk off. That would reduce him and his problem to a mere joke.

                                            >However, you can’t leave before figuring out what’s going on. This issue needs to be settled here and now. You can’t let it resurface later at a less convenient time.

                                            >So, you need to simultaneously establish your authority, while also uncovering his agenda.

                                            >You clench your fists in fury, but you smile casually, as though you didn't have a worry in the world.


                                            “The reasons for my actions should be self-evident”.

                                            >The frown on Skip’s face deepens.

                                            “They’re MY men. Not yours. I handle their discipline. Not you”.

                                            >The fat and balding pony raises an eyebrow with curiosity.

                                            “What exactly is going on here?” he asks

                                            >Skip glances at the fat pony with an annoyed look.

                                            “Anon had several of my soldiers castrated.”

                                            >There’s a moment of awkward silence, before you chuckle to yourself.

                                            “Do you think this is funny? Do you think you can humiliate the Royal Guard without consequence?”

                                            >Skip looks mad. You smile at him, which only makes him madder.

                                            “They defiled my property and were punished accordingly. That’s all there is to it”.

                                            “Those stallions were under my command. Their punishment is my responsibility. There is a process in place to deal with “vandalism”. That process doesn't involve castration, and it certainly doesn't involve you. You've exceeded your authority”.


                                            >You take a step toward the dark unicorn. You tower over him, and he has to crane his head upwards awkwardly to look into your eyes.

                                            “No, you’re mistaken. You will speak to the Queen about this. She will enlighten you on the reality of your predicament. You’ll also discover whose authority it is you’re questioning”.

                                            >A flicker of uncertainty paces over Skip’s face, but he doesn't lower his gaze.

                                            >You give Skip a pitying look, and pat his shoulder as though you were reassuring him.

                                            “Don’t worry; I’ll forgive you this time. After all, it was just a misunderstanding”.

                                            >You lean forward so that you’re almost (but not quite) at his eye level.

                                            “However, I recommend that next time you check your facts with Nightmare Moon before questioning me. You see, SHE was the one that ordered your men gelded. Yet you dare question her orders? Do you think she made a mistake?”

                                            >Your grip his shoulder tightens, and you aggressively dig your fingernails into his fur. To his credit, Skip doesn't flinch.

                                            “Remember your place, little pony. I am the right hand man of our Queen. Her will is my will. My power is her power. When you look at me, you should see the Queen standing over my shoulder. If you would doubt me, then you doubt Nightmare Moon herself”.

                                            >You intensely glare at Skip until he breaks eye contact.

                                            “We won’t have a conversation like this again”, you say with a sense of finality.

                                            >You turn to leave, but you only take a couple of steps before the Captain of the Guard speaks.

                                            “You’re not her “right hand” man”

                                            >You slowly turn around.

                                            “What did you say?”


                                            >Skip sneers.

                                            “You heard me. You’re not in charge here. You’re not the second in command. You don’t even have an official rank”.

                                            >He takes a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

                                            “Do you want to know what you really are to the Queen? Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?”

                                            >He pauses for a second, but then continues before you have the chance to answer

                                            “You’re her pet monkey. That’s all you are. You’re her little play thing. She feeds, you she houses you” – Skip waves his hoof dismissively at your armour - “and she even dresses you up in these cute little outfits. Then, she parades you around the city like a poodle at a dog show”.

                                            >Skip’s sneer widens at the look of absolute fury on your face.

                                            “The only reason you’re still alive is because she finds your shenanigans amusing. She watches you play with those prisoners in the same way she would watch a kitten play with a ball of string. You depend on her for everything, including your power. You’re just like a pampered little puppy. I’m not going to let some arrogant animal tell me-“

                                            >His rant is interrupted by your fist.


                                            >Your armoured fist smashes into Skip’s face.

                                            >The force of your blow knocks his head sideways, and several of his teeth clatter to the floor.

                                            >In the back of your mind you’re dimly aware that attacking a respected official might not have been a wise idea. However, your fury can’t be ignored, and you set aside any inhibitions you might have had.

                                            >Snarling in rage, you aim a kick at his body.

                                            >With a sickening thud, your steel-toed boot strikes Skip in his ribs, sending him to the ground.

                                            >Breathing heavily, you stare down at your beaten foe.

                                            >Blood trickles from his jaw in a steady stream, and a large purple bruise is already swelling on his face.

                                            >You smile.

                                            “I hope you learn a valuable lesson from this,” you say. “That lesson being ‘don’t pick fights with an awesome badass who’s twice your size’. Hopefully you’ll remember it the next time you consider displeasing me.”

                                            >You kick him again for good measure. He grunts in pain.

                                            >Skip spits a wad of blood out of his mouth, and then groggily stands to his hooves.

                                            >He looks you in the eye.

                                            “Are you finished, monkey?”


                                            >In another flash of anger, you clench your fist and prepare to hit the stallion again.

                                            “I guess you’re a slow learner. Fortunately, I’m a skilled teacher.”

                                            >Before you get the chance to throw another punch, the Captain retreats backwards down the corridor, out of your reach.

                                            >A dark blue aura sudden glows around his horn as he prepares to cast a spell.

                                            >You sneer at him.

                                            “You think you’re the first pony to try to use magic against me? I’m magically immune, you stupid little-”

                                            >You don’t get to finish that insult.

                                            >In the space of a heartbeat, your sword is magically drawn from the scabbard at your side, and in the blink of an eye the cold steel is hovering an inch from your neck.

                                            >Your eyes dart downwards to the floating sword. A dark blue aura surrounds it.

                                            >Seeing the look of surprise on your face, Skip returns your sneer back at you.

                                            “I might not be able to cast magic against you directly, but that doesn't stop me from lifting this sword.”

                                            >He waves the blade about as though proving his point.

                                            >Some of the burning anger within you is replaced by emotions you had hoped to never feel again; fear, panic and desperation.

                                            “You really think that’s going to work?” you ask, with as much confidence as you can muster.

                                            “Yes”, snarls Skip. “I really think it will.”


                                            “Friends, please stop! There’s no need for such hostility, especially within the walls of our lord and sovereign!”

                                            >To your surprise, the pink mare moves to stand between Skip and you.

                                            >You had been so focused on Skip that you had completely forgotten that this pink unicorn was here.

                                            >The pink pony looks pleadingly at your opponent.

                                            “Skip, my friend, please stop this nonsense! No matter your personal grudges, I’m sure that both Anon and you can agree that the Nightmare Moon wouldn't approve of this debacle.”

                                            >Skip narrows his eyes.

                                            “Stay out of this, Lingo. This is a matter between Anon and I.”

                                            “I’m terribly sorry, but that is simply not the case. As you said, Anon is the Queen’s favourite. If he is harmed then the Queen will be displeased. When the Queen is unhappy bad things tend to happen. Think of your wife, Skip. We both know what happens to the families of those who upset our majesty. You don’t want you wife to end up like Gleeblut, do you?”

                                            “Are you threatening my family?”

                                            >The pink pony looks abashed.

                                            “Never! I’m simply stating that I can’t protect them, should you fall into disfavour with our Queen. My friend, I’m trying to help you. Do the smart thing and put that sword down.”

                                            >Skip’s scowl deepens as he ponders the mare’s words.


                                            >Finally, Skip lets out a displeased grunt, and then magically hurtles your sword far down the corridor.

                                            “You’re right, Lingo. Besides, I wouldn't want to “vandalize” Nightmare Moon’s property”, he says, before turning around and walking away.

                                            >The temptation to tackle him to the ground and resume your fight is strong, but self-control (and a small sense of trepidation) keeps your wrath at bay.

                                            >Once Skip is out of earshot, the pony named Lingo lets out an audible sigh.

                                            “What a fiasco! That guard is getting too big for his britches. He’s always been an unstable trouble maker! I’m glad you put him in his place. Though, I must say that-“

                                            “Shut up.”

                                            >You speak through teeth gritted in rage.

                                            >Rather than looking offended, the mare just nods her head respectfully.

                                            >Feeling furious and humiliated, you turn with a swish of your cape and continue down the hallway towards your wing of the palace, leaving behind a small splatter of Skip’s blood and teeth on the polished marble floor.


                                            >You violently slam open the door to your room.

                                            >When Octavia sees your expression and the fresh blood on your armour, she immediately stops her sweeping and freezes in place, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a truck.

                                            >Fortunately for her, she isn't the target of your wrath.

                                            “Get out”.

                                            >After a quick bow, she practically gallops out the door.

                                            >Pacing back and forth, you think over all that had just transpired.

                                            >Upon reflection, you know it was a dumb idea to physically attack a trained combat veteran.

                                            >Your size and magical resistance might not be able to defeat experience and skill.

                                            >Perhaps you were too used to beating defenceless mares, and that made you overestimate yourself.

                                            >You chastise yourself for being too arrogant. You’re supposed to be better than this.


                                            >With a curse, you kick a chair, sending to flying against the wall.

                                            >Without bothering to remove your armour, you lie down on your bed and consider your options.

                                            >Perhaps the best course of action would be to ignore this blunder and continue as though it never happened?

                                            >No, that wouldn’t work. If rumours spread that you were at the mercy of a pony then your reputation would be ruined.

                                            >You also couldn't realistically expect Skip to forget the teeth you knocked out of his mouth.

                                            >He’ll almost certainly have a vendetta against you now. If this became public knowledge then it might create a rift in the Royal Guard, not that you really care.

                                            >You do, however, care about your pets.

                                            >The thought of Skip insulting you in front of your pets sends a chill of dread into the pit of your stomach. That would compromise weeks of work.

                                            >You let out a tired sigh as you finally reach a decision.

                                            >Really, you think to yourself, it’s the only viable option available to you.

                                            >You’re going to have to utterly destroy the Captain of the Guard.


                                            >After spending a steamy and extremely lewd night with one of your pets, you’re feeling refreshed and composed.

                                            >You don your freshly cleaned armour and leave your room with a new sense of purpose.

                                            >Soon, you’re standing in front of the grand entrance to the throne room.

                                            >With your hand resting on the door handle, a flicker of uncertainty settles into your mind.

                                            >Do you really want to complain about Skip to Nightmare Moon?

                                            >Do you need her help to win this fight?

                                            >You can’t help but feel that relying on Nightmare Moon’s authority and power would be proving Skip right.

                                            >Before you can reach a decision, the door is pushed open from the inside.

                                            >Out of the throne room walks Lingo, the pink unicorn from the night before.

                                            >Upon seeing you, she gives a small respectful bow.

                                            “Anon! It’s splendid to see you again. You’re doing well, I hope?”

                                            “I’m always doing well. Why are you here?”

                                            “At the Queens request I was simply explaining my view on last night’s events. She seems to have taken a personal interest in that fiasco”.


                                            >Your eyes narrow with suspicion.

                                            “And what exactly is it that you told her?”

                                            >Seemingly oblivious to the thick undertones of accusation in your voice, Lingo smiles casually.

                                            “Don’t worry my friend; I made it perfectly clear that Skip was the villain in yesterday’s unfortunate encounter. With any luck, he’ll be stripped from his position and a more reasonable pony will take his place. Now, I must regretfully take my leave. I have urgent business that I must attend to”.

                                            >With another small bow, Lingo struts past you.

                                            >You wait until she’s a good ten meters away before you speak, in a calm but commanding voice.

                                            “I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

                                            >The mare stops in her tracks.

                                            >For a split second, she hesitates, before turning around to face you.

                                            >She gives you a wide smile.

                                            “Is there something else you wish to discuss, my friend?”

                                            “Come here”.

                                            >With a flick of her elegant mane, the pink unicorn retraces her steps and returns to you.

                                            >Her flawless white smile remains fixed on her face, but you notice a few subtle beads of sweat on her neck.

                                            “Our majesty expects you, Sir Anonymous. It’s rude to keep royalty waiting.”

                                            “I don’t like it when people, or ponies, talk about me behind my back. Do you understand?”

                                            “I suspect that I do. However, you need not fear; for I would never slander the good name of any of my friends.”

                                            “Oh, so you and I are friends now, are we?” You smile mischievously, then lean down and whisper in her ear. “Just so you know, I like to keep my friends very close.”

                                            >You punctuate the word ‘close’ by trailing a finger down her back.

                                            >She blushes and takes a nervous step backwards.

                                            “I’ll keep that in mind, Sir Anonymous. Is there anything else you wished to discuss? Or do I have your permission to leave?”

                                            >Without bothering to give a response, you turn around and enter Nightmare Moon’s dimly lit throne room.

                                            >The heavy metal doors shut behind you with an ominous clang.


                                            >Nightmare Moon gives you a mischievous grin as you approach her throne.

                                            “Anonymous! I hear you have been having fun without me.”

                                            >You wink at her playfully.

                                            “Yeah, though “fun” isn’t really how I would describe it.”

                                            “Then tell me, Ogre, how would you describe it? I’ve already heard two different perspectives of the fight, but I wish to hear your personal account”.

                                            >You begin to recount the events of last night.

                                            >Not wanting to openly contradict anything that Lingo or Skip may have said, you try to keep your story (mostly) honest.

                                            >When you reach the part where Skip accused you of castrating your men, Nightmare Moon interrupts.

                                            “I’m afraid that was largely my fault. I ordered them castrated in your name, and sent them to be fucked with your regards. Sorry for that.”

                                            >She doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest.

                                            >Feeling a little annoyed, you continue your story.

                                            >When you recall the moment that Skip called you a “poodle at a dog show”, Nightmare Moon burst out laughing.

                                            >Damn, you think to yourself. She definitely isn’t reacting the way you had hoped she would.

                                            >Once her fit of giggles subsides, you continue, and briefly recap the fight.

                                            “And before I had a chance to grab the sword and cut Skip in half, Lingo stood between us. She convinced Skip to give up and retreat”, you say, concluding your tale.

                                            “It’s strange. That pink poltroon would not normally take such a risk.”

                                            “I wouldn’t know; I only met Lingo yesterday. What does she do here?”

                                            “She’s my Minister of Public Relations and member of my Inner Council. That’s just a nice way of saying she handles my propaganda.”


                                            >Nightmare Moon stretches casually on her throne.

                                            “Now, Ogre, what do you plan to do? Will thou let bygones be bygones?”

                                            >You grin.

                                            “You know that forgiveness isn’t in my nature. Such disrespect cannot go unpunished.”

                                            “Naturally.”

                                            “So, I was thinking that we should give Skip what he wanted. He said he wants to be responsible for his subordinates. That also means he should be responsible for their failures.”

                                            “What an amusingly ironic idea.”

                                            “If his men are guilty of harming my property, then, as their supervisor, he is guilty too. He should share their punishment.”

                                            “You wish to have Skip castrated?”

                                            “Yes. I was also hoping to have a lewd and intimate meeting with his lovely wife, if you know what I mean. Skip would be forced to watch.”

                                            “What a delightfully devious plan.”

                                            “I’m glad you think so.”

                                            “There is, however, one minor problem.”

                                            >You raise an eyebrow.

                                            “What problem?”

                                            “I’m not going to order Skip castrated.”

                                            >Fuck.

                                            “Why not? He’s proven himself unreliable and unruly.”

                                            “On the contrary; Skip is very reliable. He’s loyal to me, and his troops are loyal to him. He has proven his worth many times — just last week he defeated a rampaging cerberus. I’m not going to punish him because he hurt your pride.”

                                            >Nightmare Moon’s grin widens, and a mischievous glint appears in her eye.

                                            “But nevertheless”, she continues, “I do not expect thee to forget your lust for vengeance. This is a battle I want you to fight with nothing but your own four hooves.”

                                            “Hands”, you say, correcting her.

                                            “I want you to defeat Skip with your own two hands. Or should I say two hands and two feet? Regardless, I will not aid you in this fight.”


                                            >You cross your arms in displeasure.

                                            “Why won’t you help me? It would save me a lot of time and effort that would be better spent serving you.”

                                            “If I helped you then this whole debacle would be resolved within the hour. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the drama? Where’s the intrigue? The game would end before it even begun”.

                                            >You frown.

                                            “Is that all this is to you? A game?”

                                            “Of course! Things have been getting a little dull around this palace recently. A few violent vendettas between powerful ponies would be extremely entertaining.”

                                            >You let out a weary sigh.

                                            >You’re not surprised that Nightmare Moon would actually encourage disharmony among her own subjects. This was just another example of her careless and immature approach to ruling. You’re amazed that the entire Empire has collapsed in on itself.

                                            “You better get going, Anon. You’re going to be late for your morning patrol.”

                                            >You give her a low but bitter bow, then turn to leave.

                                            >As you walk away you can feel Nightmare Moon’s eyes following you across the large room.


                                            >Deep in thought, you walk through the palace.

                                            >Staff members scamper away in fear as you approach.

                                            >Guards salute with a mixture of nervousness, respect and awe as you pass.

                                            >You ignore them all.

                                            >If Nightmare Moon thinks of this as a game, then it’s a game you intend to win.

                                            >You’ll grind Skip into the dirt. He’ll learn the hard way why you’re Nightmare Moon’s right hand man.

                                            >But how?

                                            >If you were targeting any pony other than Skip, then you would simply arrest them for treason.

                                            >But would the guards follow your orders over Skips? Could you convince them to arrest their own Captain?

                                            >Perhaps. It’s difficult to be sure.

                                            >The guards may be terrified and amazed by you, but you’ve spent little time in their company. Outside of your own small squad, you barely interact with any guards at all.

                                            >As you think it over, you reach the entrance to the palace.

                                            >Your personal squad is already waiting in formation for your arrival.

                                            >You give them a curt but informal greeting. Then, you take your position at the head of the patrol, and move out.

                                            >The capital’s streets are thick with ponies going about their morning business.

                                            >Stalls have been set up where ponies sell their wares. Larger stores have opened their doors for another sunless day of business. Shoppers mingle and gossip under street lamps. Carriages pulled by burly earth ponies rumble down the street.

                                            >When the ponies see you and your squad, a tense hushed silence descends over them.

                                            >Many scatter in fear, while others nervously look down and try to act inconspicuous. Some very reckless ponies glare at you with open hatred.

                                            >Your squad’s metal horseshoes clang in unison on the cobbled road. They march in a manner that is uncomfortably similar to the German goosestep.


                                            >As you look around, you can spot many signs of the current depression that plagues Equestria.

                                            >Starving ponies sit in the gutter, begging for spare bits or scraps of food. Tattered and beaten whores try to lure passing ponies into dark alleyways. Many of the shops and houses have been abandoned and boarded up.

                                            >The naïve utopia that you once saw in a Saturday morning cartoon doesn’t exist anymore.

                                            >Your patrol soon takes you to a less crowded side street.

                                            >You turn your head to the young guard walking a few paces behind you.

                                            “Night Watch, what do you think of Skip?”

                                            “Captain Honcho, sir? Did you know that he singlehoofedly slayed a dragon living in Smokey Mountain? He’s fucking awesome, sir.”

                                            “Is ‘fucking awesome’ the general consensus among the Royal Guard?”

                                            “Yes sir! I don’t know any loyal pony who has a bad word to say about our Captain.”

                                            >Damn, you think to yourself. You had hoped that Skip didn’t have such a positive reputation. This certainly complicates things.

                                            >Your patrol continues in silence.


                                            >A few hours pass without incident, but just as you hope for an uneventful patrol you hear shouting in the distance.

                                            >You turn a corner and make towards the sound. You soon spot a large and disorganized crowd of ponies at the end of the street.

                                            >The rabble has surrounded something, which has sent them abuzz with excitement. Earth ponies on the outside of the crowd are straining their necks to get a better look, and pegasus have flown into the air for a superior view.

                                            >The mob begins to notice the arrival of your unit, and you are surprised to see that they don’t scatter in fear.

                                            >Instead, they seem to become even more excited. They point and whisper as you approach, with a building air of anticipation.

                                            “Out of the way, you scum!” Night Watch yells, “Out of the way, in the name of the Queen!”

                                            >With a mounting sense of foreboding and unease, your unit pushes through the herd.

                                            >As get closer to the center, stillness descends over mob, as if they were all holding their breath in nervous anticipation.

                                            >You push through the final few ponies.

                                            “Fucking hell,” you mutter.

                                            >Something is sitting on the sidewalk. It has two hands, two feet and two small breasts.

                                            “Hi”, she says.

                                            >You stare silently at the first other human you’ve seen since arriving in Equestria.

                                            “I, uh, like your armor,” she says nervously. “Those pauldrons give it a Witch King of Angmar kind of look, but that reminds me of Darth Vader. I don’t mean to imply that you’re, you know, a ‘bad guy’ or anything, but that’s kind of the vibe you give off. Oh, and I’m not saying that being a bad guy is a bad thing! It’s just, uh, if that was the look you were going for then you definitely pulled it off. And I mean that in a good way. Uh…”

                                            >She trails off awkwardly.

                                            >You’re thankful that your expression is hidden behind your helmet.


                                            Chapter 2: A Conspiracy of Bugs and Blades

                                            Point of View: Femanon, three days ago


                                            "Wow, this story is fucking retarded."

                                            >It’s 2am. You’ve just spent yet another Friday night browsing a creepy fetish general on /mlp/.

                                            "What a waste", you think to yourself. "I can’t believe how stupid that Anon is."

                                            >You were, of course, referring to the Anon featured in the story ‘Submission is Mandatory’ by Mr Nameless.

                                            "I mean, he hasn’t researched any magical means of sexual stimulation. Why settle for simple rape when you could have MAGICAL rape? That’s just common sense!"

                                            >You sigh and shake your head.

                                            >There isn’t much pony smut that can live up to your high standards of deprivation, debauchery and deviance.

                                            >To give credit where it’s due, the story was really fucking hot. However, you’re confident that if you were in Anon’s place, you could do a lot better than him.

                                            >Suddenly, there’s an explosion of sound and light.

                                            >You feel as though you’re falling through nothing, and a great pressure pulls at your body from all directions.

                                            >You open your mouth to scream, but the air is ripped from your lungs.

                                            >You slam into the dirt.

                                            >You clutch your breast and gasp for air.

                                            >Looking around, you see that you’re in large stone cavern. Stalactites hang from the ceiling, and a green slime oozes down the walls.

                                            >Standing triumphantly in front of you is a horrible monstrosity, with needle like teeth and holes in its legs.

                                            >With an expression of maniacal glee, Chrysalis laughs.


                                            “Finally, I have summoned a champion of my own!” she says. “Now nopony can stand before-”

                                            “AAAAAAAAAAHHHOLYFUCKINGSHITJESUSCHRISTWHATTHEFUUUUUUUUUUUUCK”, you scream.

                                            “Calm down, Human. I have-”

                                            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

                                            “Stop screaming.”

                                            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

                                            “SILENCE!”

                                            “AAAAaaaah…”

                                            >The last of your scream echo’s throughout the cavern, before fading into silence.

                                            >Chyrsalis glares at you.

                                            “As I was saying, I have summoned you. You shall be my champion. Together, we will overthrow the Moon tyrant, and I will take my rightful place as ruler of all Equestria!”

                                            >She laughs again, and her delicate wings buzz with excitement.

                                            >You sit in a shocked silence, with eyes wide in fear and confusion.

                                            >Chrysalis’ laughter dies, and she scowls at you with a look of disappointment, like that of a father who just walked in on his son watching a cartoon for little girls.

                                            “You’re not nearly as impressive as I hoped you would be,” she says.

                                            “Sorry,” you mutter.


                                            “I’ve seen Nightmare Moon’s human. He’s a fearsome beast, filled with cunning, rage and lust.”

                                            >She pokes you with her hoof. You flinch backwards.

                                            Chrysalis snorts with displeasure. “What is wrong with you? They say that when the fearsome Anonymous was summoned, he immediately sprang into action and won the throne for his master! But you do nothing but cower like a foal!”

                                            “Sorry. This is a lot to take in.”

                                            “Don’t make me regret summoning you, Human.”

                                            “I’ll try,” you say. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, why and how did you summon me?”

                                            “I used an ancient spell, so powerful that only the greatest of ponies can cast it. I reached into your universe and pulled you here, because you were confident you could defeat Anonymous. For your sake, I hope you live up to your self-assured superiority.”

                                            “Wow. Okay. So you want me to help you take over the world?”

                                            “Yes! Together, we will build an empire that lasts ten thousand years!”

                                            “Cool. Right, I think I understand. So why not summon me again?”

                                            >A look of confusion passes over Chrysalis’s face.

                                            “Summon you again? I’ve already summoned you, why would I want to do it again?”

                                            “I mean, you could summon another me. By that, I mean a different me from another universe. If the multiverse exists, then there must be millions of other me’s spread across other dimensions. Why not just summon up an entire army?”

                                            “That is an intriguing idea,” Chrysalis says. She looks down at you with curiosity. “However, it is impossible. As I mentioned earlier, this spell is extremely powerful. Not only can it only be cast by ponies with alicorn strength, it also can only be used by each pony a single time. I cannot cast the spell ever again, and neither can Nightmare Moon.”

                                            “Oh.”

                                            “Yes, if such a simple exploit existed then Nightmare Moon or I would have exploited it already. We each could summon only one human. She got Anonymous, and I got you.”


                                            >She gives you another poke with her hoof.

                                            “Well, if you can only cast the spell once, why didn’t you use it to summon yourself?” you ask.

                                            Chrysalis sighs. “And why, pray tell, would I want to summon myself?”

                                            “Because if you summoned a Chrysalis from another dimension, then she could use her summon spell to summon a third Chrysalis. That third Chrysalis uses her summon spell to summon Chrysalis number four. You could repeat this as many times as you need; until you have an entire army of yourself. Then, you take over the world in a couple hours, and spend the rest of eternity having giant orgies with yourself.”

                                            >Chrysalis opens her mouth to offer a rebuttal, but she is left gaping as she struggles to find a flaw in your plan.

                                            >You finally push yourself off the ground and brush dirt off of your sweet pants and hoody.

                                            >You notice that Chrysalis isn’t nearly as scary now that you stand taller than her.

                                            “That is actually a pretty good idea,” she finally admits.

                                            “Orgies are always a good idea.”

                                            “I was talking about summoning myself. It’s a shame I didn’t think of it before I wasted the spell on you.”