EldritchOne

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Hey Tai, do you want to do a bit of talking between Scalpel and Lens at some point? I dunno I just figured it'd give her something to do, plus we can develop the two of them a little more together.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Wooba wooba woo, ancient conspiracies and forbidden lore which may or may not have actually happened, may or may not be historically skewed or may or may not be absolute truth, le gloriousuh mysterique, hon hon hon. The next post will be pretty important too, its a gonna be an flashy, fighty one, and very important.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Battlewing awoke to the bitter taste of iron in his mouth, blinking dazed and confused in the low light of a dark ground structure. He tried to move his hooves and wings, but found he could not; they were bound in heavy leather and steel straps which cut tightly into his hooves. For a moment he didn’t understand what was going on, the last clear memory he had was him and his companions flying above the clouds on a routine scouting expedition. However, soon enough the memories quickly began to flood back and a dawning sense of terror filled his mind. The machine ponies. The massacring of his squad. The horrifying dark eyes of the mare. He had to get out! Stormwing was in danger! Quickly he began struggling futilely against his bonds, grunting and flexing to see if he could just get one off, on the chance that they hadn’t been tightened properly. He only stopped when a voice called out from the silence, hushing him and making his blood run a little colder. “It won’t work you know… I made sure to fasten them correctly; occasionally I’ve had attempts like that in the past. I learned from them.” “Who are you?” Battlewing asked, his voice becoming a little tremulous. In the darkness of wherever this was he could barely see a thing, the only patch of light came from an overhead, a crack in the ceiling from which an arch of light issued. It was a cave. “That’s none of your concern,” came the reply in a voice which suggested patience and utter apathy to his condition. “What does concern me however is what you can tell me…” “Go to Tartarus!” Battlewing roared back, panic and desperation making him grow ever more agitated, “I won’t tell you shit.” “Oh I think you will…” was the reply, and this time Battlewing shivered at the amusement it held, “you won’t have much option in that regard.” A sudden light erupted in the dark, the yellow glow of a candle held in the magical grasp of a unicorn. A pale face emerged from the shadows, lit by the candlelight and smiling thinly, with an expression not dissimilar to that of a spider observing a fly in its web. The figure marched towards him, and stopped at the foot of the metal operating table he now knew he was attached to. The unicorn placed the bag down on a nearby broken bolder and began rifling through it, before grabbing a hold of a small case. “What’s that?” Battlewing asked suspiciously, giving the unicorn a strange look, “I won’t talk even if you do torture me. Stormwing has taught us to remain vigilant in the face of pain, and I’ll weather all you can do to me.” The unicorn gave him a look of contempt, “Please, everyone breaks under torture; it’s just a matter of ‘when’ they break. Regardless, torture is notoriously unreliable and force confessions can be desperate lies, instead I think I’ll take a page from the work of my unicorn contemporaries.” Turning back to him, Battlewing could see something long and sharp in a magical grasp of the doctor, he looked at it with increasing levels of fear, “What is that? What have you got there?” The unicorn smiled thinly, “The inquisition uses it on stubborn patients in its care, indeed they once used it on someone I knew, although that was a more complex version… this however… this will make you very pliable to suggestion.” Battlewing went ice cold, and began to struggle again in earnest against his bonds, pulling desperately and painfully at the vice like leather as the unicorn advanced towards him. Suddenly he felt his head caught in a vice like grasp, held immobile whilst the rest of his body thrashed. “Now, now,” the unicorn chided like a disappointed parent, “I might break the needle in your neck if you keep on struggling.” Slowly, agonisingly he felt the needle piece his flesh and dig into the veins leading to his head. The effects began almost immediately, his vision and mind dulled, his body slowed, his will to fight faltered, his eye began to grow vacant and he couldn’t remember why he was struggling. Where… am I? He wondered, but no answer came to his mind. Behind a haze of dull light he heard a voice, a dark and warped sounding voice come from the shadows of wherever he was, It held authority, and he felt compelled to answer it. “Now… tell me everything you know about Stormwing military operations around Dragonpoint…” He felt a small portion of his brain rebel, to tell this person nothing and to silence himself. But by the time he heard it, it was nothing more than a dying whisper. Slowly he opened his mouth, and began to speak. Scalpel walked out the cave and into the temporary encampment he and his forces had set up in the marshlands leading to Dragonpoint. His clothes were smeared with fresh blood, dust, mud and the general damage of fast and unreliable travel. Despite his best efforts whilst leaving, he had to separate a large portion of his followers when he teleported, and he couldn’t build up enough magical power to teleport him directly to his location. Because of this, he’d been forced to set up shop in a old cave he’d found on the way here in a thunderstorm, as the Risen struggled some of his more transportable baggage in large carts – their wheels frequently getting stuck. With the weather not improving, and the chance of Stormwing scout patrols increasing, they had no choice but to develop a temporary base here until further notice. He glanced down and saw Honey and Nocturne interacting with each other and some of the Risen captains, all of them were smiling, even Honey who had been far more quiet and austere than usual seemed to cheer up today— perhaps it was the weather, the storm had broken soon after they had set up here and they’d been enjoying a few good days of sunlight out of it. The Risen captains seemed more subdued than the rest, but that was normal for them, they rarely seemed to get overly emotional over anything. He wondered if that was a reaction to the resurrection process, but he couldn’t be certain, others like Zodiac showed some of the opposite effect, her actions seemed to be inspired by a lingering an enigmatic zeal from her previous host, and she came across as a very passionate mare. She’d adapted quickly to the changing situation from birth on his laboratory table to the quick movement across the land, she like the other captains showed the inordinate intelligence gifted to them by his research. He smiled at this, they were— just behind Honey— his pride and joy Sometimes he wondered about Zodiac however. Whilst passionate and reverential towards him he always felt that she’d inherited a darker streak than Lambda and Tsan, more prone to fits of religious fervour and even seeming to worshipping him at times. He was uncertain how he felt about that, he disliked being put on a pedestal, even in regards to his successful scientific and occult advances, the thought of being made an infallible paragon… disturbed him. Still she was a useful mare, and loyal to the core, he’d sent her out to gather captives from a scout patrol and she’d succeeded admirably, laying – by all accounts — an excellent trap for them to fall into. The Jaegers seemed to respect her also, despite her quick rise to power, and he was glad the hierarchy was responding well to new additions. Recently he’d needed to keep his two main captains here to discuss future plans as they moved deeper into Stormwing territory, he couldn’t have incidents of discontent within his Risen. Down below he heard laughter and this snapped him out of his revelry. Nocturne was chasing Honey as she fled away with some sort of precious item hanging out of her mouth. She was laughing joyously as Nocturne made silly monster noises, before finally pouncing and tackling her to the ground— metal hooves and all— and tickling her ceaselessly with her wings as she struggled to escape, giggling all the while. He smiled. It had been a long time since Honey had been given a chance to just act like a normal child, and so far she seemed in far better spirits than before. The legs had definitely been an improvement over the old wheel system, she had managed to get used to them rather fast after a few stumbling days, and now she was almost an expert. He’d yet to hear from Scarlet through his sources, but according to the Nightingale Sphere report from yesterday, she was on the tail of the first target. He looked forward to whatever innovative ways the mare could make that bastard Cotton Tail suffer. He left them to their games and marched off to find Zodiac, quickly finding her alone next to an old damaged oak tree. As he approached he saw her madly scribbling something, before hearing him and hiding it within the folds of her armour. “Zodiac?” he asked, curious more than anything about what she was doing, “What are you up to?” “Nothing,” came the curt reply as she rose to greet him, those dark unblinking eyes gazed levelly at him, a distinct fierce and religious zeal poorly hidden behind them as she gazed upon her creator. “How may I assist you, father?” “You need not assist me,” he replied a small smile, gesturing with a hoof for her to return to her seated position. With some awkwardness she did so, sitting like a primed leopard ready to run, her eyes twitching back and forth in seeming fear. “Relax…” he said, sitting beside her, “I’m not here to judge you, or demand anything of you just now… just sit with me.” For a long moment they stayed like that, completely silent asides from the rustling of leaves, staring as the Drones and soldiers of his new army moved back and forth in preparation, and as Nocturne prepared a travellers stew she’d managed to learn on her travels around Equestria. She was a strange one to him, despite knowing one another and working together for nearly a month he still didn’t know much about her, she’d remained somewhat of a mystery to him, as doubtless he was a mystery to her. Why she’d joined him so readily he did not know, perhaps she sensed a guiding purpose behind his actions, perhaps she just liked him and admired him enough to follow. Slowly his mind drifted elsewhere, across the ancient texts he had read in the past, across the Black Sun Prophecies of which he now delved deeply, and spoke fluently as it had been subsumed into his consciousness. He did not understand how, but during the ritual he’d been completely linked with the book, its information had flooded through his mind, responded to his magic, given him deep and powerful understanding… it had changed something within him, as well as creating the Corona Star, the artificial heart of a god. “Tell me Zodiac… do you wish to hear a story?” he asked offhoof, his mind far away even as he spoke, filled with diagrams, information and philosophical dialogues. She jumped at the sudden noise, but soon settled down, giving him a curious look, “I suppose so Father, what is the story about?” “Ah,” he replied, a thin but compassionate smile setting over his muzzle, “now there is the question.” “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She said, a quizzical frown settling over her refined features. “The answer to what it is about is much more elusive Zodiac… Even I do not know it in full.” “Perhaps the meaning is in the telling, Father?” “Perhaps…” Another pause, another refreshing glance at the happy figures of Nocturne and Honey working together on dinner, a comfortable cool breeze which wafted around them as they sat under the shade of the warped tree. Suddenly Scalpel began to speak, in a voice well versed in the storyteller’s tenor from years of reading to his niece. “Once, long ago the ponies of Equestria were divided into three great races. The Earth pony, the Pegasi, and the Unicorn. “These we know today as the three tribes, the primordial nations which later comprise the greater whole of Equestria and brought dominion to these lands, something which according to all sources had never happened before. Before this ponies were even more primitive, more tribalistic, and more violent. They could not be brought to reason or think, or so was told us by our divine masters, and so they themselves brought order to the chaos of organic life, to mould us and civilise us directly. “But something about this seemed wrong to some thinkers, how was it this had never occurred before? That this coexistence of the races had never been attempted previously? How could it be that we, with our unique intellect and resources, never unite before this common era? The answer lay hidden for many years, blocked at first by commerce, interest and funding, and then by powers that did not want to reveal its true nature… “In the great wasteland beyond the frontier of Equestria, in the desolate lands now dominated by the Changeling hives, the first archaeologists from over thousand years ago, brought by rumour and legend of a strange and powerful civilisation before the era of the three tribes, began to dig. Their attempts were crude and fumbling, they had not the support of the nobility, nor the divines which now dominated the political spectrum of Equestrian society, and the changelings frequently raided their camps, but they tried regardless. “Their efforts were not in vain however, although many a time they almost gave up hope due to lack of evidence, and the depression brought by the shifting grey sands of the barren wasteland. But finally, after many years of struggle the unearthed a great and wondrous city of basaltic ruins beneath the sands, and marvelled at the splendour of the ancient past. “The ruins showed technological prowess unknown even in this age, filled with broken ancient machines and powerful magic’s which were barely understood by these early archaeologists. The cities were perfectly planned and built to last for thousands of years, and some of the bass reliefs showed depicting mysterious and unique powers which were thought to be beyond the ken of mortalkind. Indeed the most miraculous power was yet to be discovered, and they stood upon it unknowingly. “After careful months of study, they eventually came upon it, a titanic engine room beneath the city, which seemed to be set into a great round bottom filled with many rooms and halls of machinery for unknown magical purposes. Slowly their minds began to touch upon something which they could barely comprehend. “The city had once flown through the air. “Suddenly they realised they’d stumbled across a race of spell weavers beyond any which now lived in Equestria. But that was not all, for whilst the main cause of the cities flight was that of magic, the means was variable and multifaceted. They discovered pictures of ponies of all races working together, the industriousness of the Earth pony crafting the machine, the power of the unicorn enchanting the metal, the power of the Pegasi filling it with air magic. All worked in concord to build this city, and all were a part of its grand technocratic dynasties which ruled in the skies above their tropical paradise, for the Wasteland was once so before their fall from grace. “The archaeologists began to delve deeper into this, they began to wonder, why had this great and powerful society fallen? Their feats of power were grand, according to the bass reliefs they had weapons which killed with lightning and fire, they had cities which lasted thousands of years beneath the wastes, and their forces were heralded by armoured soldiers and flotillas of great flying machines, how could they have failed?” “They knew not the answer, so they dug, and then they found these,” Scalpel brought forward the black bound tome, laying it gently on the ground before him, “The Black Sun Prophecies.” “They did not name the book as such, that was the Sea ponies in their oceanic depths that did so, they had always held on to the texts, although they did not fully understand where they came from, nor their words which were strange to them, but they knew enough to fear it. The archaeologists did not know this, and the immense piles of tablets they discovered were transcribed unto paper, with all their strange signs and symbols recorded and stored within the depths of their travelling chests.” “It was well that they did so.” “The soldiers of the divine sisters came and ordered them to rebury and destroy anything they had uncovered. They were systematic in their destruction, toppling ancient portions of the city which had stood for eons and smashing the tablets under the sustained abuse of heavy hammer blows. Everything they had uncovered was hidden, everything they discovered was destroyed. They were ordered back to the palace where they were to have audience with the divine sisters, and by sheer chance they managed to hide the documented information of the great elder within their travelling luggage, away from the prying eyes of the suspicious soldiers. “When they finally arrived in Canterlot, they were sent almost immediately to the throne room. No raised voices or arguments were heard, no anger or ill temperament was heard in the voice of the sisters, but when they left their faces were pale, and they became sullen and silent about what they had found in the depths of the wastes. But a few were brave enough to speak about it, and they supported their arguments with the ancient text they held. But because not even they could understand it, and because there were no artefacts from the find, and the denial of the sisters, they were viewed as fools, liars or frauds. “Eventually the believers died out or the information was lost, and soon only the text remained, a text which was burned and destroyed many times by the hooves of the capricious immortals, who wished to silence history. But the text persevered, the text survived, until one day a lone copy found its way into the hooves of a bright mind, who understood the symbols and used them as the basis for an ancient power once more. “The texts told of the grandeur of their strange kingdom, the power it held over its lands, and its downfall. Their magic’s were potent and recorded in depth, allowing for a renaissance of magic if applied correctly. But it was the history of their fall which truly fascinated the pony, for in it was a dire sign. “The great kingdom lived under the guidance of mortal ponies, and bowed to no monarch or god. So when strangely shaped and mighty strangers came from the East and demanded worship and dominion, they denied them outright, laughing at the audacity of those weird horned and winged oddities. “A great and terrible war then erupted, and for all their magic and technology, they fell before the power of the two raging gods arrayed against them as they burned their great kingdom to cinders. The gods crushed them into silence and drove them from their cities, destroying all in their wake. Soon they lost all their power, all their technology and even their native lands, brought to waste before the power of the raging tyrants. But they were not so easily brought extinguished, instead they recorded ancient magic and a prophecy that one day the tyrants would fall or disappear, and a great kingdom of splendour would arise in their absence and rule over the new lands. When the tyrants returned they would be driven back in a blazing spire of fury by the new gods of technology, science and reason, banished to the void from whence they came, or die in the onslaught of the great state. “The texts named a prime figure which would arise in this time, the Black Sun, a dark messiah which would lead ponykind to its glory once again, and guide them into the stars until they unlocked their truest potential… “One day he would come, he would be the first of the new paragons, and would strike down the old system with unquenchable fury in the name of equality and liberation… and the lost glory of ponykind, and drive the ancient tyranny into the depths of hell.” Scalpel finally finished, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, and he saw most of his soldier begin to order themselves, preparing for tonight’s march towards their target, edging ever closer to the great mountain of Dragonpoint. “Is it true?” Zodiac asked, her eyes lighting up with a level of wonder, “Did such a thing happen father? Is this the true history of the ancient races? Will the messiah come as prophesized?” He chuckled, stroking a hoof through her hair in good humour, “Perhaps… perhaps it was made up by the returning archaeologists who wanted to pretend they had been forced to silence, instead of admitting to the failure of their expedition. Perhaps they did uncover the cities in the wastes and misinterpreted the corroded technology and the bass reliefs for something more than currently possible, perhaps the Black sun prophecies are nothing more than a clever fake with some real magic thrown in for good measure… we may never know until we look into the Wastes.” “Suppose it is real… will the prophecies come true?” Scalpel snorted disdainfully, “I don’t believe in prophecy or fate Zodiac. A pony makes his own way in this world, it is not guided by some hackneyed great influence nor the mad ramblings of some dispossessed ‘almighty’ tribal’s. If any of the prophecy comes true it will be because time has provided the right catalyst for it, and of the ponies own skill in the matter, not by some inescapable providence. Each pony makes his own fate and that is not within the powers of gods or emperors to decide.” He turned, picking up the book and returning it to his saddlebags, “Will you join us for dinner down in the camp? I trust you know your purpose in the midnight advance? We will not have a second chance if this goes awry.” Zodiac nodded, a frown set upon her face, “Yes father, Tsan and Lambda filled me in early once you were finished with the prisoners, I understand perfectly.” She paused, considering leaving her perch beneath the tree to join the rest of the host down below, “I shall consider it, but you have given me much to think about father, I shall sit here a while and consider what you have said.” Scalpel smiled appreciatively at the mare, “Very well daughter, take your time to think. But when the time comes I shall require you sharp and ready; do not let philosophy distract you on tonight’s mission” “I won’t father.” “Excellent.” he grinned at her, “I shall see you again tonight if we succeed in this, hopefully we may toast to our victory, farewell until then Zodiac.” With that Scalpel left the Risen mare to her thoughts and began to trot down the hill, below small smouldering fires lit the way. Soon, he thought, Soon I shall have my citadel, my city of power, hidden but waiting… soon I shall bring peace to this land, and craft a new glory from the ashen ruins of Equestria. Soon we shall have victory.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Neat entry. Ah, so that's what happened to a certain pony. Loving it :D Though I am rather shocked by the new method of acquisition. Did not expect that much carnage.

Indeed, and though its technically a different life spark echoing through an old shell, she does retain some characteristics of her previous self, including an immense sense of religious zeal, which will become important later. As for the method of acquisition, well its less about acquisitioning new bodies and more about learning the scouting patterns around Stormwing territory through captured sources, and most of the ponies here were expendable as Scalpel currently is without a lab. Also its kinda hard to hold back on the carnage when you're stronger than most average ponies, those meaty lumps tend to end up bisected, such splattery things :p

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Woo, dead horsies.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Three Days Later Battlewing, scout of the second localised squadron for the Dragonpoint Outpost, was deeply bored. He had been surveying the same territory for over six months now, and it would be a good while more before he would return to active duty. Despite being on the Stormwing front, Dragonpoint saw very little combat, nestled by the buffer zone of non aligned towns to the north and with the rest of the Stormwing nation on its eastern side, all it ever saw was the occasional incursion of tribals from the Everfree. Speeding past in loose formation with his fellow pegasi, rolling light forest and the occasional hill made only a minor change in the reasonably desolate landscape. Once this area had been prime agricultural territory, but thanks to decades of war, disease, famine a changed ecosystem it had reverted into barren fuming swamp at its worst, and churned up frontiers, old battles and dead forests at its best. Frankly he found it all very depressing. He yawned as his commanding officer, Dusty Feather signalled for them to make a turn to the right, he didn’t even have to process the moves anymore, and everything had seeped into an unconscious pattern. Beside him, Cobalt Flight gave him a terse message in the way of coded sign language. ‘Eyes open Battlewing, don’t get lazy’ He nodded back in understanding and tried to focus on the territory, but it was hard not to fall back into a daze. The days had been passing so slowly since he joined up for this core it’d all seeped into one giant never ending cycle to him. A sudden glint in the marshland ahead made him start however, and he focused his eyes on the shine cast upon out-of-place metal by a dull sun, troubled by clouds and portents of rain. ‘That was new’ He dipped a wing to his companions and signalled further, and they too took note of whatever it was up ahead. Tightening formation slightly they approached whatever it was cautiously, even the Everfree tribes could be deadly when they wanted to be, the endless war with the Earthborn showed that clear as day. As they made flew over they were able to discern more details of the ground below, but still at this height it was hazy at best. They’d found a clearing and dotted around the place where many curled up forms — probably bodies— and still flaming portions of scorched earth, the glint came somewhere up ahead where a… pillar or stake stood of some sort, but he couldn’t make it out. The Pegasi drew closer together to make conference, whilst a few out-flyers were sent to circle the perimeter of the place with watchful eyes, Battlewing drew close enough to hear the hushed conversation between the Sargeant and Officer Dust Feather, who seemed to be debating investigating. “We haven’t had reports of a battle here, one of the squads would have messaged in and told us if there was, and we’ve heard from all the local groups just an hour ago. I don’t like this sir, it doesn’t look right.” “Come on now Hail! It could just be that we’ve encountered the remains of a small battlefield between two feuding Everfree tribes. You know how are, practically at each other’s necks without Fluttershy to keep them in check. It deserves a look just to note it down in the log, besides, it might give us data on where the remaining scum have headed, and we can’t have them move further into our territory.” Hail nodded, but he didn’t look best pleased, “have some of the scout’s do another sweep over the place before we land, see if there is anything out of place.” Dust dipped his head, and signalled to the out-flyers, who promptly responded in turn and dipped into the forest surrounding them. After a tense few minutes all of them rose up out of the forest and sped towards them, in a semi-casual manner. The leader of the out-flyers sped forward and saluted Dust, but he looked slightly pale in the face as he did so. “We’ve found no sign of any ambush sir, but there is something wrong with some of the bodies, I think you better have a look at them.” Dust frowned, “Really Greentip? What’s so odd that I have to come personally to look at them?” Greentip’s face churned up, as if he was trying to get the words out but was failing awfully, “J-just come sir, I can’t really explain it, I’d say it was the cult but this… this is beyond them.” Dust’s frown turned into a worried look of concern and nodded, “I’ll be right down, thank you Green. Keep patrolling the perimeter with your fellows, we’ll need to keep our eyes open.” Greentip nodded again and saluted, before dipping back down into the tree line with his forward scouts, Dust shrugged at Hail with a look of confusion on his face, “Let’s go see what all the fuss is about then…” Gliding down the scene opened up to them, and what awaited was a vision of pure carnage. Bodies in various states of dismemberment, frozen screaming faces of terror, the stench of gore thick on the air and the cawing of ravens as they glutted on their fresh feast, the scene was that of a utter massacre. Pulling his mail close to his nose and mouth Battlewing tried to block out the smell, but even with his efforts the cloying fetor squirmed through regardless. It had been an Everfree tribal warband at one point, but now they were just steadily rotting carcasses. Arrows and huge brutal wounds covered the few remaining corpses which were still in a semi-whole state, the rest were scattered as if a wild bear had charged into them. There was signals that the attack had been both physical and magical, portions of the ground were scorched from magical fire blasts and some of the bodies were still smouldering away, burnt fat filling the air with its noxious reek. “What in blazing hells…” he muttered, “Who could have done this?” Dusty had been taken aback by the scene but he quickly established order among the demoralised soldiers as they took in the scene. “Hold it together, you’re soldiers of Stormwing, you’ve seen worse than this. Hail! What is the body count on the opposing tribe?” Hail looked up from where he was squatting, and gave a look which made Dusty’s skin crawl, “There aren’t any sir.” “What do you mean there aren’t any? The scene shows clear signs of a close quarter struggle, and there is no way they could have removed the bodies without leaving behind traces…” “That’s just it sir, there are no traces, it’s like they were wiped out without a single loss on the opposing sides warband, all the tattoos and markings are of the same tribal group.” “Flaming Celestia, what are we dealing with here? Who could take out a warband at close quarters and not suffer any casualties? I want answers gentlemen, what word from the out-flyers?” “None sir, they’ve not returned yet.” Dusty spat, his face contorting into a grimace, “damn it, they’re late.” “Sir!” came a terrified shout, the voice echoing from the far end of the battlefield, drawing Dusty’s attention away from the irresponsiveness of the out-flyers. “What in hells name is it now?” he murmured, his face cold, desperate not to see any more of the battlefield than he already had. Still he conjured up some nerve and marched towards the source of the disturbance. What awaited him looked like something out of a gothic novel. Made out of shattered and broken weapons and half a tree that had been reduced to a broken stub, the impaled corpse hung like a torn rag doll from the structure, its face a horrible mess of mutilation and metallic additions. Battlewing could tell almost immediately who this was, the tribal shaman. A figure of profound reverence amongst the Everfree tribes and who held considerably sway over whatever group they were a part of. Usually battles between the local shamans for power were a bloody affair, but he’d never seen anything like this. It was as if someone had created some ungodly idol or shrine from blood and metal, with the shaman as its centrepiece. The bodies lower portion was completely missing, a ragged hole where it had once been dripped viscera and blood in slow tides down the broken stump. Its face had been held open and its jaw pinned back in a demoniacal scream by a series of wires and nails, many of its teeth were missing. Its upper head was completely caved in as if the person doing it had felt some profound detestation of the shaman, and long tubular pipes had ground themselves through the skull into the wood behind it. The form hung with wire and metal fetishes, made of strange signs which disturbed him extensively in the sheer viciousness of their design, wrapped around or embedded into the broken flesh of the corpse. Battlewing buckled over and vomited on the ground, the yellow mulchy army rations mingling with the blood of the battlefield before them to create a putrid hybrid of filth. Many of the soldiers nearby weren’t doing much better and only Hail seemed to have collected himself enough to comment on the thing. “Well…” he muttered, his eyes cold and frightened “Someone really doesn’t like tribal religion…” Dusty nodded nearby, he’d almost gone mute at the sight, but he managed to gather enough of himself to issue a command, “Withdraw, get everyone back in formation, I want us out of here as quickly as possible.” The rest of the soldiers nodded at the stern command, they had no interest in staying here any longer, Quickly they folded back into a group, rising a couple of meters above the ground as they prepared to depart. “Where are the out-flyers?” “Not here Sir…” came the reply from Hail, “they should have returned by…” Both the sergeant and the officer’s eyes widened at the realisation. “Ambush.” In that second a bolt flew out of the surrounding woodland and embedded itself in the neck of Dusty, followed in turn by dozens more from every direction. Dusty fell choking to the ground as the woodland around them erupted in a storm of arrows and bolts. Within seconds most of the company was either dead or injured. A few of the soldiers broke rank and tried to get away, but they just proved easy targets for the sharp shooters. Battlewing had been in the midst of them, and had managed to avoid the arrows, but now he was afraid. He made a desperate rise for the clouds along with the rest of them, panic overwhelming him as his hoplite shield was repeatedly embedded with crossbow bolts, His wings thrummed with the power gifted by adrenaline as he pushed himself up, desperation in his mind solidifying into a single thought. Run. He gained height as stallions and mares alike fell around him, falling like sacks of meat unto the gory ground beneath them, the air filled with their screams and the zipping sound of flying bolts reaching their mark. But he was almost there… Suddenly a sharp pain erupted through his shoulder, his wings tightened in response and he stared back at a sharp black bolt embedded into his right wing muscle. No. He thought. And then he fell. He collapsed on the ground with a heavy crash of metal, the impact hitting him like a ton of bricks. His head erupted in pain and his vision clouded, but still he could see the dark shapes begin to emerge from the darkness towards them as the last hoplite fell. Even with his disrupted vision, he could tell they were not natural, they moved too swiftly and erratically. He blacked out for a second, and when he opened his eyes again they were less dulled, and the figures stood amongst them. They were dark abominable things, clad in heavy black armour, sullied by the sod they had been hiding under in wait for just such a group. The visible flesh they showed indicated their forms were twisted with metallic additions, and their hair —which in clumps showed their old colour— was as white as snow, and their eyes… he didn’t dare look at those dark intelligent cold orbs which blazed with purple fire at him. Around him he could hear the dull sound of beleaguered fighting, and the solid crunch and slice of flesh being rent by blade and mace. The metal creatures butchered the mortally injured and broken, cleaving heads and bodies with bloody efficiency. Besides him a fountain of blood sprayed out from Dusty as he attempted to breathe, like some macabre mutilated beached whale. A heavily armoured figure suddenly loomed over Dusty, its features hidden between a shroud like black hood and its body covered in heavy silver plate; it peered out at them with the same horrible eyes as the others though, there would be no mercy given. It was a mare, or at least it seemed to be, much like the others her purple and yellow colours were patchy and faded, fading away into pure white, giving her an edge of anonymity and a revenant presence. In stark contrast to this almost wraith like appearance however, a ragged and angry looking death scar crossed her throat, and a portion of her horn had been broken off at some point and then fitted with a metallic replacement. She looked like she’d had portions of her body ripped apart and then stitched back together again; indeed as he looked he noticed her legs had been replaced with intricate machinery, the flesh ending in web of wiring and metal plates just below the shoulder or haunch. Unlike the others who gave off a sense of dull but brutal efficiency, Battlewing could tell this one was different, her eyes suggested a vast and expansive intelligence, and her face sneered up in uncharacteristic malice at the dying pony. These were not Laughing Dead. What in Tartarus’s gates are these things? Lifting one metal clad forehoof, she pressed Dusty’s face into the mud as she inspected the bolt in his neck. Obviously displeased, she spat to the side, raising the hoof and gave Dusty one last look as he gurgled in terror at her. “Qullulum.” she wheezed, before she buried a steel hatchet in the officers skull with an audible crunch of bone. Turning to him she eyed him up as the remaining monstrosities returned from their bloody business, terrifying him within an inch of his life. With the same rough inspection she gave his wound a look, but unlike Dusty’s, this one seemed to satisfy her. Signalling to the others she wheezed out a command in a tongue unknown to him, “Eṭēru baal abu!” Suddenly two of the machine creatures seized him and dragged him towards a motley group of dishevelled survivors. He cried out in protest but was silenced as a limb covered in plate and chain smashed across his face. Out of the original twenty, only three of them were left, him included. As he watched, one of them attempted to fly away only to be seized by a unicorn’s grasp and to have his wings broken with an audible snap. The soldier let out a howling screech until one of the machines backhoofed him over the face with a metal clad limb and beat him to a whimpering silence. The rest of them were forced into line and marched into the forested marshland, the machine ponies watching them under unblinking stares. In one last backwards look he saw the remaining portion of the force begin to disassemble and hide the bodies of his comrades, along with the bodies of the tribe in the marshland waters. However, the female leader paused before the grisly shrine, and bowing in supplication and beginning a low chant. Behind him a low murmur was heard, and he struggled to understand it until it was repeated by the monstrosities surround him. “Nâdu baal antalû.” What in Celestia’s name awaits us… Battlewing thought, before they marched into the darkness, towards a fate they would never return from…

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Going to upload a new post soon, been a while since I last did, and Scalpel's story needs some progression. :P

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Tai you left a bit of our commentary in the middle, if you could, get rid of it please :P