- Location
- Ohio
AN: This was hard to write. But people asked for monsters and boogie men. And thus, we have one.
Moon-Mad" NO!! MOMMY HEL"
Snap!
Crunch. Crunch.
Snap! Crunch. Crack.
The noise echoes throughout the tunnel, bouncing off the sleek, etched stone. Worn down by the ages, by the lake above and the movement of time, the stone, once strong and firm, took on a mossy, desolate look, incapable of hiding its misery. Green and White Crystals grew like rot on a wound, streaking and entwining down the walls of the tunnel like vines around a dead limb, twisting and glowing faintly like a smothered sun. They sprouted out in small patches here and there, looking for all the world like little crystal mushrooms in the dark.
Crunch. Crunch.
Snap! Crunch. Pop.
Weeping.
The locals called this place The Weeping Halls, and it was not hard to see why. The constant drip and run of water down sleek rock and the soft howl of wind from hidden tunnels and openings to the surface sounded like the soft, mournful cry of the dead, seeking to be heard by the living and the whole. To say goodbye. Or to warn of doom.
Crunch. Crunch. Pop!
Scrape. Whining pleas and whimpering fear. A squeak of pain! Then crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Once, he had been told, it had been a prosperous mine in the northern part of the Empire. The Tall-Winged-Bird-Lions who had hired him had droned on about the regions proud history, of the battles and wars that had been fought for it in times past. Of its importance, nay, its vital necessity to the Empire.
A load of shite. The other towns had said the same thing, as well as the little villages of Crystal Ponies. The citizens told him more. Such places were vital towards the settlements survival and growth. The Empire has hundreds of such mines, and much more farmland and rivers beside.
A Lie. But a useful lie, for he would not be here otherwise.
Weeping. Cries of pain. A Squeal of agony, a cry for mercy. And the Stone-Damned Crunch. Crunch.
Ice crept through the dark, slivered steel and clinking plate glowing faintly in the gloom. His metal boots scraped against the stone beneath, disturbing rocks and small patches of loose crystal. His cold, bright eyes peered through the slits of his helm, looking out into the dark tunnel. Little bones and tufts of fur lay scattered throughout the tunnel before him, chewed and marred by teeth and claw.
To a Griffon or Pony, such a place would be pitch black, impossible to navigate. To him, it was a clear as day, and he could feel the tunnel stretching before him, branching off to the left and write into twisting paths. His quarry lay ahead.
He stopped. Ahead, a pool of steaming liquid lay in a small crevice to the left. It's dropped down from the ceiling of the tunnel, from a hole above it. He approached, and knelt before it, examining it closer. The liquid was clear, and seemed to bubble and burst of its own accord. His lifted his face plate, and sniffed cautiously. It smelled... of licorice?
A scrape to his left. A sound of claw on stone above him.
Ice froze. Slowly, ever so gently, his gauntleted paw drifted toward the small axe at his side. His shield was across his back, not enough time to-
A rush of claws, and a scrape as something leapt.
Ice whirled, his small axe in his right paw in a instant, and buried the blade in his attackers jaw, slicing the lower jaw in two and burying itself just below the creatures nose. It hung uselessly from the beasts mouth, blackened, chipped teeth glowing in the dim light. His enemy ignored the wound, and lunged at him, slamming him into the wall of the tunnel, claws scraping against his armor, a strangled snarl coming from the beasts mouth. White, red tinted blood poured from the beasts mangled mouth, splashing and painting Ices armor.
He growled, ignoring the scrambling claws on his face plate and the rancid breath in his nose, and pushed off the wall. He grabbed the beast by the head, and ripped his axe out of its face, blood pouring faster from the wound. Turning, he threw the creature at the second attacker, lunging at him from a small hole in the left wall. The two collided in the air, landing in a oiled heap upon the floor.
Whirling on the spot, he turned towards the right, planting his axe in the skull of a third, a female from the build and shape. Pulling the axe from its skull, its brain stretching and sticking to the axe blade like a rope of taffy before snapping, he turned yet again, and disembowled a fourth, it's strange candy colored guts spiling onto the ground.
The fourth howled and hobbled forward, ignoring its own wounds. It tripped over its own entrails, and Ice finished it off by stamping his armored boot down on its head, its skull bursting like a melon. A rush of air to his right alerted him, and he spun, axe blade singing through the air. It buried itself into the stomach of the first creature, having disentangled itself from its kin, and was stuck firm, the beasts insides and sticky muscles holding the weapon fast. Cursing, he let go of the axe, and bring his shield from his back, held it in both hands and smashed it down on to the beasts face as it lay in a heap upon the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. The beasts scrabbles and snarls grow softer, it's flesh sticking to the shield in clumps. A fourt-
Something slammed into him from above, knocking him to the floor. Claws scrambled and scraped against his back, ripping into the metal plate, and teeth bite through his helm, ripping and tearing at the steel.
Ice roared, and getting to his knees, reached around and grabbed the beast by its fur, and flung it down the tunnel. The creature land in a heap, but quickly scrambled back up, and lopped back towards him on all fours, burning, clear licorice drool dripping from its jaws. Ice readied himself, and when the beast lunged again, grabbed it from the air by it's throat and choke-slammed it in to floor. Something snapped in the creatures back on impact, and it writhed on the ground, whining and snarling in pain.
Ice stepped on its head, and readying himself, lifted his massive leg and driving down into the creatures skull. It jolted, and the impact snapped the creatures jaw, and broke its nose, white blood splurting from the wound. It did not die. He did it again. The forehead burst and eyes popped out, black and frozen. It still would not die. A third time. The struggle faltered, claws scraping harmlessly and weakly against his armored leg. A fourth. It ceased.
Ice panted, hunched over, paws on his knees, his breath coming in short bursts. Then, straightening and taking a deep gulp of candy flavored air, he turned and lumbered over to the creature with his axe in its stomach. He leaned over and, bracing his leg on the creatures ruined chest, pulled his axe out with a sicking, sucking sound.
Crunch. Crunch. Snap!
The sound had not ceased during the struggle.
Ice took stock, looking over his armor and weapons as best as he could admits the ruined bodies. His shield was dented and battered, but still usable, strange gunk covering the end where he had bashed the creatures head in. His axe was sticky, the haft covered in white blood, and the blade chipped and covered in a pinkish, gum-like material. His armor was similarly tarnished and filthy, but still useable. Reaching into a pouch at his side, be pulled out a whet Stone and small cleaning cloth, and set to work, sharpening and wiping the filth as fast as he could.
Crunch. Crunch. Pop!
He finished, and standing tall, hefting axe and shield, moved deeper into the tunnel, the faint green and white glow illuminating the white blood on his armor.
Hours Later, Ice emerged from the mine, soaked and battered in white and red blood, blinked in the afternoon sun through his helm. Beside him, 20 out of the 108 missing Griffon and Crystal Ponies little ones followed. Many were dirty and battered. A few limped, and Ice carried a limp, shivering bundle in his arms, bone shard and meat all that was left of the filly's front left leg.
Ice looked at the children, and felt his heart sink and break. Then, crying beneath his helm, he led the children back towards the town, and told the parents what had happened himself.
————————————————————
The Kin called it Moon Madness.
The Elders weren't sure when exactly it fell upon the Kin, but was certain it was sometime during or after When the Sky Fell. During the Chaos of Discord, many Kin and Packs joined into a Warhost to fight the Mad God. Arrogant and proud, the leaders of the Packs ignored the Elders warnings, confident in their inevitable victory. They did not seek allies amongst the other Races, for they thought that they could prove their superiority and Dominance over all Packs and Tribes.
They failed. And then The Sky Fell.
During the Madness, the condition began to arise, with some entire litters and Packs being afflicted.
At first, it was an increase in hunger, a feeling of emptiness. Packs would eat their supplies in hours rather than days or months. Then, the Kin would change physically, slowly and surely. Their insides would soften, then toughen, hardening into candy or chocolate sludge. Their teeth would turn black or red, and their hearts and eyes would freeze, turn black and cold. Some reported ice cream and hot fudge leaking from afflicted ears and eyes. Their brains would become like taffy, stretching and weaving through out their bodies.
Then the brain would change. They would see the world as food. Kin and litter-mates would become food. Children and mates would look like treats. They would ignore all pain, all feeling, expect for the hunger. Entire villages and Packs would disappear, vanished into the endless maw of the hunger. Children were especially susceptible, and entire generations of kin would vanish. Brother hunted kin, and son and daughter ate their sires and Kin in their wombs from the inside.
The Moon Mad, Named for the black, dead eyes and the madness of the Sky, were and are a secret shame of the Kin. They do not like speaking of such thing to outsiders or in public, and those that are trusted are only told the vaguest details. But late at night, as the Tribe sleeps, tales are shared in hushed whispers. Uncles and Nephews, brothers and Sisters, one day fine and whole, the next gone, along with litters and Kin.
The Elders do their best to forget and ignore the Mad, endeavoring to hide the past from the outside. But word does occasionally slip out. Isolated villages or mining operations going dark, children vanish from cities. Strange monster sightings in abandoned and haunted places. Grieving mothers and fathers, sons and daughters.
The Madness would never die.
AN: That felt very dirty. Ugh. Need a bath.
@Questor. ' Throws Omake at window.' More trash.
What species is the kin?
