[b]In Nómine
An Equestria Divided RPG
Prologue
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“आम सहमति के पर पहुंच गया कर दिया गया है.”
“हम एक समझौते पर पहुँच गए हैं.”
“हम वापसी करेंगे.”
“…..”
For a moment, there was nothing.
“खुला.”
There was a tremble in the air as the word left his lips. The nature of the world around him buckled under its weight, but stood fast, protesting the sudden change.
Within the three realms, from the Astral to Tartarus, there had been laws set down by Faust herself that all were compelled to obey. And every creature, no matter how large or small obeyed these laws. But this law… this would obey him.
“खुला!” he commanded again.
His voice carried long and far and shattered the stillness. All shook with a violent spasm as a black and pulsating hole was torn in the planar boundary of reality.
He watched, serving as their gatekeeper, as they stepped through, one by one. Some were eager, others afraid, but all were determined. His brethren all had their different purposes for coming, but they had come together for this. He could not fault them. He was among their number. He kept his sentinel watch and held the door until the last set of hooves vanished into the rift.
And then he followed.
“… एक बार पृथ्वी पर फिरते …”
Falling.
Arcon was falling.
He did not know when he realized this. It may have been a second since he stepped into the rift, it may have been an eon. But when he opened his eyes he realized he was falling from an impossible height. The world below was a smear of colors spinning in every direction as he tumbled through empty air.
He was aware of so many new things. A million, a billion heartbeats thrummed in sync beneath him. All the three realms were in his gaze. The leylines, coursing rivers of golden light, stretched across the firmament of the globe like a spider’s web. He knew all.
He was all.
He looked down at himself.
His mind nearly shattered.
A trick of the light, an abstract thing of unbelievable angles. His mind burned with fire and he screamed in terror and exultation. He turned away, focusing on the ground below, but he could still see it, in his mind. It had burned its way through. He was terrified of himself, he realized. He was an idea, or the hint of an idea, or the memory of something he had never known, or the shadow of all these things, their inverted reflection, on a still lake at night.
He couldn't be real, Arcon thought. His mind struggled to put all into words, to understand what had been so clear to him before. How could he have been real before this? It... he had had no substance. No weight. He had had mass, Arcon remembered, his embrace stretching impossibly wide, but behind the mass there had been no depth. It made no sense. How could he be real and make no sense?
He tried to look at himself again, at his body of fractured proportions and broken reason, but it was long gone. Replaced instead were sandy fur and plumage, and the hot flesh and blood that coursed beneath that was all too real.
He was impossibility made manifest, the formless given form, and he fell though the sky in fire, accompanied not by the roar of the very air set aflame, but the last whispers of a song’s echo.
“…चेहरा…”
It is only when Arcon breached the atmosphere that he realized how quickly he was moving. The wind buffeted his wings so violently he feared they would be torn from his body. It was like stepping from a calm shelter into a maelstrom of shrieking wind. He was tugged violently into the current, the force pulling, pushing and tossing him in every direction as unseen forces battered his body.
For a moment, the pain was swept from his mind while he tried to process all the things he could see. Lush, green forests. Windswept deserts. Towering mountains capped with ice and snow. The blue trails of rivers, winding their way to lakes and seas.
Equestria.
His lungs took great heaving breaths, the first of many as plummeted to the landscape alone. He pumped his wings, desperately trying to gain purchase as gravity reeled him closer and closer to the ground below.
He sped over a bustling metropolis, than a magnificent castle built into the side of a mountain, then finally a small village at the edge of a forest, and vast deserts. A long stretch of brown and jagged peaks stretched into the distance.
He was directly over the jagged mountains when their peaks rose up to meet him. There was an overwhelming burst of pain, a great explosion of heat and sound, and Arcon was aware he was yet again falling. A body newly born shattered the mountainside, and with it, every bone in his body. Rocks clipped at his skin and face as he tumbled into the free-fall abyss down its slope.
If he crashed again this time, he knew he would die, or even worse, lose precious time trying to heal himself. Time he could not afford to waste on such trivialities.
His horn, a brilliant cone of power shone briefly and dozens of chains, thick and dark, came unbidden from the air around and bolted themselves into the rock face. More wrapped around his limbs and midsection and abruptly halted his descent. The alicorn’s body jarred at the sudden snapping and his restraints dug into his skin.
It was enough. He dangled viciously above the mountainside, held aloft by the chains. His momentum still carried and almost threatened to still smack him against the rock. The chains receded, further anchoring him in place. At last, the violent swinging receded into a gentle rocking and Arcon gave a sigh of relief.
Relief.
A curious thing, given his current situation. So many new sensations. He looked at himself once more. Shards of rock had embedded into the barrel of his chest and midsection, and small rivers of golden ichor snaked down his face.
“How tedious,” Arcon scolded himself. He had yet to so much as touch the surface, and has already met a delay.
With a mental command, the chains evaporated into wisps of black smoke and dropped the god onto a rocky outcropping. He rose to his slender legs, and the harsh wind whipped through his black mane.
His body had already begun to heal him, forcing out the foreign detritus and congealing fresh skin. Growth of feathers and skin pushed forward, freed from the layer of newly formed epidermis. Arcon stretched his great sandy wings and stretched, marveling at the acute ache that remained deep within the joints. This was most certainly something that would take some getting used too.
Arcon stared out beyond the barren wastes. In the far off distance, pinpricks of light shot across the sky and others joined this world.
Across Equestria, ponies stopped and looked to the sky in amazement. The tiny lights had become a fireballs, trailing smoke and dust as they sped silently overhead.
None saw the signs. None knew of their return. But all would know their wonder in due time.
The following concussions were tremendous; a series of deafening booms cracked the sky as onlookers fell to the ground, hooves pressed to their bleeding ears. Flashes of light exploded in the distance as each of his brethren fell, one by one.
Arcon stood and looked at the land before him.
Nothing lived here. Nothing grew. The land was barren. The rocky solid was nothing more than a thin layer of ash and dust. A sea of desolation that stretched as far as the ring of mountains to the Northwest. Dust storms churned in the distance, a snarl of movement in the otherwise empty horizon. The alien landscape was all the more ominous under the red haze that drifted through the foul air.
Arcon smiled and sat down on his mountain.
Yes.
This would do nicely.
An Equestria Divided RPG
Prologue
--------------------------------
“आम सहमति के पर पहुंच गया कर दिया गया है.”
“हम एक समझौते पर पहुँच गए हैं.”
“हम वापसी करेंगे.”
“…..”
For a moment, there was nothing.
“खुला.”
There was a tremble in the air as the word left his lips. The nature of the world around him buckled under its weight, but stood fast, protesting the sudden change.
Within the three realms, from the Astral to Tartarus, there had been laws set down by Faust herself that all were compelled to obey. And every creature, no matter how large or small obeyed these laws. But this law… this would obey him.
“खुला!” he commanded again.
His voice carried long and far and shattered the stillness. All shook with a violent spasm as a black and pulsating hole was torn in the planar boundary of reality.
He watched, serving as their gatekeeper, as they stepped through, one by one. Some were eager, others afraid, but all were determined. His brethren all had their different purposes for coming, but they had come together for this. He could not fault them. He was among their number. He kept his sentinel watch and held the door until the last set of hooves vanished into the rift.
And then he followed.
“… एक बार पृथ्वी पर फिरते …”
Falling.
Arcon was falling.
He did not know when he realized this. It may have been a second since he stepped into the rift, it may have been an eon. But when he opened his eyes he realized he was falling from an impossible height. The world below was a smear of colors spinning in every direction as he tumbled through empty air.
He was aware of so many new things. A million, a billion heartbeats thrummed in sync beneath him. All the three realms were in his gaze. The leylines, coursing rivers of golden light, stretched across the firmament of the globe like a spider’s web. He knew all.
He was all.
He looked down at himself.
His mind nearly shattered.
A trick of the light, an abstract thing of unbelievable angles. His mind burned with fire and he screamed in terror and exultation. He turned away, focusing on the ground below, but he could still see it, in his mind. It had burned its way through. He was terrified of himself, he realized. He was an idea, or the hint of an idea, or the memory of something he had never known, or the shadow of all these things, their inverted reflection, on a still lake at night.
He couldn't be real, Arcon thought. His mind struggled to put all into words, to understand what had been so clear to him before. How could he have been real before this? It... he had had no substance. No weight. He had had mass, Arcon remembered, his embrace stretching impossibly wide, but behind the mass there had been no depth. It made no sense. How could he be real and make no sense?
He tried to look at himself again, at his body of fractured proportions and broken reason, but it was long gone. Replaced instead were sandy fur and plumage, and the hot flesh and blood that coursed beneath that was all too real.
He was impossibility made manifest, the formless given form, and he fell though the sky in fire, accompanied not by the roar of the very air set aflame, but the last whispers of a song’s echo.
“…चेहरा…”
It is only when Arcon breached the atmosphere that he realized how quickly he was moving. The wind buffeted his wings so violently he feared they would be torn from his body. It was like stepping from a calm shelter into a maelstrom of shrieking wind. He was tugged violently into the current, the force pulling, pushing and tossing him in every direction as unseen forces battered his body.
For a moment, the pain was swept from his mind while he tried to process all the things he could see. Lush, green forests. Windswept deserts. Towering mountains capped with ice and snow. The blue trails of rivers, winding their way to lakes and seas.
Equestria.
His lungs took great heaving breaths, the first of many as plummeted to the landscape alone. He pumped his wings, desperately trying to gain purchase as gravity reeled him closer and closer to the ground below.
He sped over a bustling metropolis, than a magnificent castle built into the side of a mountain, then finally a small village at the edge of a forest, and vast deserts. A long stretch of brown and jagged peaks stretched into the distance.
He was directly over the jagged mountains when their peaks rose up to meet him. There was an overwhelming burst of pain, a great explosion of heat and sound, and Arcon was aware he was yet again falling. A body newly born shattered the mountainside, and with it, every bone in his body. Rocks clipped at his skin and face as he tumbled into the free-fall abyss down its slope.
If he crashed again this time, he knew he would die, or even worse, lose precious time trying to heal himself. Time he could not afford to waste on such trivialities.
His horn, a brilliant cone of power shone briefly and dozens of chains, thick and dark, came unbidden from the air around and bolted themselves into the rock face. More wrapped around his limbs and midsection and abruptly halted his descent. The alicorn’s body jarred at the sudden snapping and his restraints dug into his skin.
It was enough. He dangled viciously above the mountainside, held aloft by the chains. His momentum still carried and almost threatened to still smack him against the rock. The chains receded, further anchoring him in place. At last, the violent swinging receded into a gentle rocking and Arcon gave a sigh of relief.
Relief.
A curious thing, given his current situation. So many new sensations. He looked at himself once more. Shards of rock had embedded into the barrel of his chest and midsection, and small rivers of golden ichor snaked down his face.
“How tedious,” Arcon scolded himself. He had yet to so much as touch the surface, and has already met a delay.
With a mental command, the chains evaporated into wisps of black smoke and dropped the god onto a rocky outcropping. He rose to his slender legs, and the harsh wind whipped through his black mane.
His body had already begun to heal him, forcing out the foreign detritus and congealing fresh skin. Growth of feathers and skin pushed forward, freed from the layer of newly formed epidermis. Arcon stretched his great sandy wings and stretched, marveling at the acute ache that remained deep within the joints. This was most certainly something that would take some getting used too.
Arcon stared out beyond the barren wastes. In the far off distance, pinpricks of light shot across the sky and others joined this world.
Across Equestria, ponies stopped and looked to the sky in amazement. The tiny lights had become a fireballs, trailing smoke and dust as they sped silently overhead.
None saw the signs. None knew of their return. But all would know their wonder in due time.
The following concussions were tremendous; a series of deafening booms cracked the sky as onlookers fell to the ground, hooves pressed to their bleeding ears. Flashes of light exploded in the distance as each of his brethren fell, one by one.
Arcon stood and looked at the land before him.
Nothing lived here. Nothing grew. The land was barren. The rocky solid was nothing more than a thin layer of ash and dust. A sea of desolation that stretched as far as the ring of mountains to the Northwest. Dust storms churned in the distance, a snarl of movement in the otherwise empty horizon. The alien landscape was all the more ominous under the red haze that drifted through the foul air.
Arcon smiled and sat down on his mountain.
Yes.
This would do nicely.
