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The Stable
At the Gate - the Zebra: 3
”A village, but there is no name or activity!” the Scout muttered.
“They abandoned the village?” came the response.
“Not actually abandoned, but why did they remove the name if everything is left in place?” the Scout pointed out.
“That is curious! While I did not even know they had a village here, but they could try to throw us off with a nameless village!” came the response.
“What in the name of the stars are these Ponies up to?” Inquired the Shaman.
“This is a Pony village, by any and all the signs!” the Scout muttered.
“Industrious Bastards, these Ponies!” came the response.
“It appears, these Ponies are trickier than we had been led to believe!” the Shaman reflected.
Quiet resumed, at the scout outpost overlooking the small village Starlight Glimmer had established.
[hr]
The Village is quiet, empty. No Pony is there. Nothing move, not even a tumbleweed. While the slight breeze is on the air, as if to prove no foul magic was at work.
Trotting along the one street did not take long. Going into each building and examining the seemingly abandoned building was a breeze. Nothing to see, just the few belongings of each Pony living in the respective buildings.
The stunning fact that there was no sign of a mark for any of the Ponies, each building identical. Just the items of a trade.
Of course, there is the exception, the one building at the end of the road. Was this the home of the Leader, or a Shaman?
Nothing was touched, for the fear of traps and poisoned food items. Even cursed items is a very real possibility, in the eyes of a Zebra.
Hidden in the last building, an underground passage was found.
“Do we dare following this passage, to its destination?” the Scout uttered, in a hush and worried tone of voice.
“Do we have a choice? We have to see where the villagers went and who they are!” the Shaman pointed out.
[hr]
No traps had been lain, or we had managed to avoid them. From the mouth of the tunnel, the path continued over a stone bridge over to a different tunnel in the mountain on the opposite side.
“A stable door!” the Scout observed, just as he had entered the large cave at the end of the path.
“Wait, hold up? Is that a Talisman, right there on the door?” the Scout exclaimed in alarm.
“No, it has all the feels of a Soul Jar!” the Shaman croaked in shock.
“Is it even possible to make a Soul Jar out of a Talisman?” the Scout whispered in aw.
“What is behind the door has to be mighty important!” the Engineer prompted, in instant realization.
“Stable tech is a mighty foe, but this is not the working of Stable Tech!” the Observer pronounced with utter finality.
“Since this is no work of a Zebra, who constructed this, if it is not Stable Tech?” the engineer inquired.
“Indeed! Not even the accursed once would have built something the likes of this. Yet, the effort placed in the crafting makes this important!” the Shaman proclaimed.
Of course, no Zebra in his or her right mind would have pronounced the name of the Stackatari; the accursed tribe of the Moon.
“While I may not have seen the inside of a functional Stable, but I would give my hooves just to see what is behind that door. It is bound to be something extraordinary, with the protection placed before us!” the Engineer stated, with reverent aw in his voice.
“While I guess any of us could take your hooves off, but not even the combined effort or even a bale-fire bomb could bypass that door!” the Shaman whispered.
“This cave would have been perfect for focusing the wrath and ire of a bale-fire bomb towards the door, though!” the Engineer prompted.
“We could request a few bale-fire bombs from the armory, but I doubt it would be worth the effort! If we get the request approved, would we survive the blast on the other side of their bridge?” the Scout inquired.
There was a moment of still quiet, as the walls to the right and left started to glow. While the glowing spots were little more than a foot wide, it soon expanded outwards.
“Wait, something is wrong.. very wrong!” the Shaman breathed.
“What?” the Observer inquired.
“I do not know.. I just have a strange feeling, a sensation as if something was just walking all over my grave!” the Shaman responded.
“Fan out, and pay attention to anything out of the ordinary!” the Scout prompted.
-
-
-
“They abandoned the village?” came the response.
“Not actually abandoned, but why did they remove the name if everything is left in place?” the Scout pointed out.
“That is curious! While I did not even know they had a village here, but they could try to throw us off with a nameless village!” came the response.
“What in the name of the stars are these Ponies up to?” Inquired the Shaman.
“This is a Pony village, by any and all the signs!” the Scout muttered.
“Industrious Bastards, these Ponies!” came the response.
“It appears, these Ponies are trickier than we had been led to believe!” the Shaman reflected.
Quiet resumed, at the scout outpost overlooking the small village Starlight Glimmer had established.
[hr]
The Village is quiet, empty. No Pony is there. Nothing move, not even a tumbleweed. While the slight breeze is on the air, as if to prove no foul magic was at work.
Trotting along the one street did not take long. Going into each building and examining the seemingly abandoned building was a breeze. Nothing to see, just the few belongings of each Pony living in the respective buildings.
The stunning fact that there was no sign of a mark for any of the Ponies, each building identical. Just the items of a trade.
Of course, there is the exception, the one building at the end of the road. Was this the home of the Leader, or a Shaman?
Nothing was touched, for the fear of traps and poisoned food items. Even cursed items is a very real possibility, in the eyes of a Zebra.
Hidden in the last building, an underground passage was found.
“Do we dare following this passage, to its destination?” the Scout uttered, in a hush and worried tone of voice.
“Do we have a choice? We have to see where the villagers went and who they are!” the Shaman pointed out.
[hr]
No traps had been lain, or we had managed to avoid them. From the mouth of the tunnel, the path continued over a stone bridge over to a different tunnel in the mountain on the opposite side.
“A stable door!” the Scout observed, just as he had entered the large cave at the end of the path.
“Wait, hold up? Is that a Talisman, right there on the door?” the Scout exclaimed in alarm.
“No, it has all the feels of a Soul Jar!” the Shaman croaked in shock.
“Is it even possible to make a Soul Jar out of a Talisman?” the Scout whispered in aw.
“What is behind the door has to be mighty important!” the Engineer prompted, in instant realization.
“Stable tech is a mighty foe, but this is not the working of Stable Tech!” the Observer pronounced with utter finality.
“Since this is no work of a Zebra, who constructed this, if it is not Stable Tech?” the engineer inquired.
“Indeed! Not even the accursed once would have built something the likes of this. Yet, the effort placed in the crafting makes this important!” the Shaman proclaimed.
Of course, no Zebra in his or her right mind would have pronounced the name of the Stackatari; the accursed tribe of the Moon.
“While I may not have seen the inside of a functional Stable, but I would give my hooves just to see what is behind that door. It is bound to be something extraordinary, with the protection placed before us!” the Engineer stated, with reverent aw in his voice.
“While I guess any of us could take your hooves off, but not even the combined effort or even a bale-fire bomb could bypass that door!” the Shaman whispered.
“This cave would have been perfect for focusing the wrath and ire of a bale-fire bomb towards the door, though!” the Engineer prompted.
“We could request a few bale-fire bombs from the armory, but I doubt it would be worth the effort! If we get the request approved, would we survive the blast on the other side of their bridge?” the Scout inquired.
There was a moment of still quiet, as the walls to the right and left started to glow. While the glowing spots were little more than a foot wide, it soon expanded outwards.
“Wait, something is wrong.. very wrong!” the Shaman breathed.
“What?” the Observer inquired.
“I do not know.. I just have a strange feeling, a sensation as if something was just walking all over my grave!” the Shaman responded.
“Fan out, and pay attention to anything out of the ordinary!” the Scout prompted.
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-
-
♠ ♠ ♠
“Ah!”“Ah!”
Oh!