Anonymous1: Oh my gods, look at this animu as fuck OC. That hair. Just ... look at this little wannabe Goku hair do havin' mothafucka. Also, his horn is too long and too pointy for a normal unicorn.
He’d arrived not more than an hour before, returning from his mission in Canterlot by a super-fast locomotive reserved for top level military heads, or as was his case, the highest ranking Justice in the realm. Meeting briskly with a complement of escorts, he had been lead quickly and furtively to a secret chamber in the bowels of the great tower, where he’d stepped through a hidden passage that took him and his companions to an elevator only operable by those in possession of esoteric magics that descended down below the earth.
These were the Kargar Warrens, the darkest and possibly oldest secret in the Crystal Empire. Carven long before even the arrival of the Tyrant Sombra, the Warrens were a labyrinthine expanse of almost un-navigable tunnels and lightless chambers and cells lying deep beneath the crystal citadel. Tunneled from a single seemingly seamless mass of enormous black crystal, the very walls and floor absorbed light and heat, the material itself reflecting and intensifying the fear and misery of its prisoners back at the hapless souls whose sins were so horrendous to justify their incarceration within. It was a place that existed in no official records, and known only to a handful. He, as his duty as Supreme Arbiter demanded, was among those few.
The crystal guard standing before the entrance to the lift he and his escorts now exited wore the fluted amethyst regalia of The Mourners, ponies who, shamed by grievous indiscretion take on the life of soldier-ascetics to stand guard over the most fearsome and terrible secrets in the Equestrian domain. The ornate armor consumed the memories of the wearer when removed; leaving no recollection of the events transpired until again donned, such was the sensitivity of the knowledge they protected.
There was no such memory inhibition upon the Supreme Arbiter, and thus he grimly stepped inside the now open cell-accessible through an unusual gaping portal in the otherwise unmarked walls- knowing it his charge to remember all of these things and those to come in the very near future.
No two cells of the Kargar Warrens were the same, each carved into the crystal by hooves or hands unknown, each uniquely faceted and with a myriad of subtle features in the dimensions or the coloration of the constituent crystal. Among the mysteries of the Warrens, it was known, but no better understood, that each room and chamber had a monstrous, but not readily apparent purpose. The cell he now entered however was a perfect cube, populated by a Mourner at each corner and two more standing side by side in the center, the cell’s intended prisoner suspended between them.
He was a brown unicorn, young and otherwise unassuming, a distorted theater mask occupied the skin of his cutie mark. He hung suspended between two iron columns; chains clamped his hooves leaving him upright and spread eagle. One eye was nearly swollen shut, and the rest of his body showed signs of a vicious beating. Blood dripped unnervingly loud onto the pitch floor of the cell from still fresh wounds. A macabre steel half-mask was affixed to the prisoner’s muzzle by leather straps, the kind of implement that dissuaded talking not by holding the jaws shut, but with wicked sharp blades resting tight against the tongue. From the blood that dripped from the breathing slits of the mask, it was clear that the unicorn had made the mistake of attempting to speak. As for the youth’s horn, a sunburst shaped array of metal was affixed with screws, nestling in its center like a reliquary, a lapis blue stone: an archaic, elaborate magic nullifying talisman.
Quartz looked hard for a long moment at the unicorn bound up before him, trying to evaluate the…Thing that was the reason he was here “Report,” he growled to the Lieutenant standing at attention beside the unicorn. The…Thing, he decided to call it from now on had inspired a number of feelings in the old Judge’s heart. Fury, hot like a burning iron applied to his skin; cold, helpless sorrow; then the implacable wrath, the purpose borne of a final verdict.
“Guards moved to the Princess’ chambers soon after she failed to appear for her daily commune with the Crystal Heart. They found the door locked, and the posted guard missing, and when they received no reply to their calls, broke down the door. The culprit was in the act and attacked with a spell, wounding one of the responding guards and attempted to flee after I, the combat mage in the group retaliated,” the guardsmare, seasoned veteran Copper Coil related smartly, vitriol thick in her voice. Quartz already knew the details, he had been briefed extensively before his commission, but he appreciated the first hand statements from those who had been on scene. “He made it approximately twenty yards before being intercepted by another two mages and a nearby patrol. He resisted, but was quickly subdued and transported to this location on the orders of Captain Armor. The spell he utilized in his attack on the Princess was as of yet unknown, but upon study, its like will be easily countered in the future.”
The Arbiter nodded gratefully and glanced at the Amethyst studded breastplate adorning the Lieutenant. It was unfortunate to have to take such measures with a trusted officer and personal friend, but Coil had agreed to the order without complaint. He was glad that she wouldn’t remember what was to come, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Finally, he moved to address the thing in chains. The one good eye moved to glare at him, still odiously defiant. He sighed; it made no difference, this was not a trial and he needed not enforce court etiquette. He stood tall and rigid, and addressed the thing coldly.
“To begin, by lawful verdict, you have been found guilty by the highest authority of the land; I, Supreme Arbiter Quartz of the Equestrian High Court condemn you doubly of crimes against secular and holy law, as is my right and duty by the Judge’s Charge, bestowed by the Valiant Council and royal commission. Let none on heaven or earth dispute this ruling.”
A sputtering snarl issued from the thing as it wriggled in its bonds.
Hierolocc: Imperious, he continued “For such vile trespasses, the only answer can be death. However, by their divine order, delivered personally onto me by Diarch Celestia of Equestria and Diarch Luna of Equestria, I invoke here and now that you shall be thusly rendered a non-being, and all of the traces of your existence up to and beyond this point will be purged from all records and minds of those who once knew you. Finally, for the attempted desecration of Her holy personage, Cadence of the Crystal Empire, you are to be castrated and your horn removed, and put to death this very hour. May the Sorrel Hells bring forth all their torments for you, and the Makers forever shun you from their sight. Sergeants, you may now enact the sentence.”
A pair of Mourners stepped forward from their posts, belts of fearsome implements on their belts. The first bore a flattened rod and a small cauldron of foul smelling pitch, the other, a collection of blades. Upon a word and spark of magic from the unicorn Mourner, the apparently enchanted cauldron began to glow with heat, setting the viscous tar into a slow boil. The thing began to struggle in earnest, thrashing against its chains and visibly straining in futile effort to use magic. The second Mourner paused in his evaluation of their stock of blades to work cranks in the restraining columns, tightening the chains until the thing was firmly immobilized, only able to breath in frantic horrified gasps and babble wetly into its mask.
When in short order the pitch was roiling fiercely, the second Mourner, seemingly satisfied in choice of instrument, set the blade to grisly work. He peeled away the thing’s scrotum with unsettling precision, carving away the flesh and carelessly discarding it to the ever more gruesome floor. By the time he sliced through the cords of a testicle and cast it away, the thing’s babbling had turned to animalistic screams. Blood wept freely from the brutalized flesh, and the second Mourner dipped his rod into the hot pitch and pressed a boiling wad of the tar onto the bleeding cuts. The screams intensified to an all new level. Satisfactorily cauterized, the Mourner repeated the procedure on the remaining testicle, paused for a second to allow for a second application of pitch. The screams took on a pleading note. When it came for the thing’s penis to come off, it had nearly screamed itself mute. All throughout, the attending guards and Quartz looked on impassively.
At the High Arbiter’s directing nod, the first Mourner replaced his now gore slicked blades with a fearsome saw, another antique; the tool was imbued with a multitude of enchantments that made it well equipped for the task to come. After securing the thing’s head with supports and more chains, the teeth of the saw made efficient, if not expedient, work of the horn. A third helping of boiling tar removed the risk of unintended expiration from blood loss.
Appraising the gruesome work before him, Quartz ordered “Remove the creature’s mask,” none too gently, the steel implement was unlatched and withdrawn. Blood and saliva flowed freely from behind torn lips. Quartz approached the wretch, careful of where he placed his feet “Does the condemned have any last words for the ears of the living?”
As it happened, the thing did have something to say, including some choice words about the Princesses. When he finished, Quartz flatly ordered the Mourners to take his tongue as well, and soon the thing was again rendered incomprehensible, as is common when attempting to speak with no more than a stump for a tongue and a mouth full of scalding tar.
Quartz sighed again, long and deep. “Unshackle the condemned and withdraw from this cell so that the execution may take place.” Swiftly his order was obeyed, and the complement of Mourners and Lieutenant Coil had vacated the cell, leaving the piteous creature laying on the cold, blood smeared floor before the Arbiter. He leaned as close as he cared to the thing, and grimaced.
“I fear that the only one that will be broken this day is you. Accept the death you now receive, and revel in Celestia’s benevolence,” is all he said before finally following suit and exiting. Behind him, the “door” that had existed to permit entry melted away as the uncanny crystal walls melded back to form a solid wall.
Within the now entirely enclosed darkness of the cube, the thing considered what fate had been decided for it. Was it to starve to death or eventually perish from infection of its wounds or suffocate for want of air? The answer came sooner than it would have expected.
First there was a curious noise, a low constant rumble; a strange bloodcurdling noise that set its heart near to panic, though it new not why. After some time of this, the thing began to crawl across the floor of the cell, seeking to move away from the bloodstained patch of crystal it had laid upon. To its surprise, it very quickly met the cold hard surface of a wall. The thing was puzzled, as it would have sworn that the cell had been much more spacious. Painfully, it moved to further explore the darkness and with a frightful jolt, found that it reached another wall even more quickly. Ears almost deafened by the now omnipresent rumble in the walls, and heart sick with mounting terror, the thing reached out, back against the wall, questing into the dark. With a cry of horror, its hooves touched icy cold crystal, but at arm’s reach. A quick flailing revealed that all four walls of the cell had converged upon him with terrifying swiftness, and he realized quite immediately the method the crystal ponies had chosen for his demise. The mysteries of the Warren were near endless, but some had been documented with some measure of success, it was in fact intentional that this cell had been chosen for the creature’s execution, for it was known to the Warren’s custodians that this cell, when occupied by a creature condemned to die, would rapidly shrink, squeezing and eventually crushing the victim. A draconian end for the worst offenders tried by the High Arbiter.
Within even a few more moments, the callous walls were choking the life from the thing, very nearly ending its unintelligible screams and pleas and other horrible vocalizations. But those pitiful howls fell not on deaf ears but rather the cruel crystal of the Warrens alone, for the complement of Equestrians had already departed the airless and claustrophobic tunnels for the lift that would take High Arbiter Smoky Quartz and his Mourner escort back to the sunlit world above to live another day. When finally the screams turned to pained gasps, and those turned to the muffled snap of bones and squelch of flesh, the Kargar Warrens again were returned to tomblike silence, its black crystal cells and twisting halls never quite completely forgotten by the inhabitants of the world above, waiting with the patience of stone for the day to come again to savor the screams of dying men.
skunkwolfe: Guys, why over complicate things when the solution is quite simple?
The writer sends a letter to the Sweet Acme Acres supply Co., then marks an "X" on the ground with a pencil and steps several feet to one side just in time to avoid a huge crate falling from a clear sky. "Thanks, Derpy", he calls, receiving a salute from the retreating grey pegasus. "Ok, let's do this", he mutters, and slaps a big red button on the crate, causing the front side to fall open.
For a moment, nothing happens, until three familiar fillies, wearing red robes leap out yelling "Cutie Mark Crusaders Inquisitors, autos de yay!!"
"Ya'll might wanna back up, guys; this could get messy." he says, pulling up a chair and a bucket of popcorn from which Pinkie appears, taking a seat next to him.
- Reply
Eeeyup.
--
He’d arrived not more than an hour before, returning from his mission in Canterlot by a super-fast locomotive reserved for top level military heads, or as was his case, the highest ranking Justice in the realm. Meeting briskly with a complement of escorts, he had been lead quickly and furtively to a secret chamber in the bowels of the great tower, where he’d stepped through a hidden passage that took him and his companions to an elevator only operable by those in possession of esoteric magics that descended down below the earth.
These were the Kargar Warrens, the darkest and possibly oldest secret in the Crystal Empire. Carven long before even the arrival of the Tyrant Sombra, the Warrens were a labyrinthine expanse of almost un-navigable tunnels and lightless chambers and cells lying deep beneath the crystal citadel. Tunneled from a single seemingly seamless mass of enormous black crystal, the very walls and floor absorbed light and heat, the material itself reflecting and intensifying the fear and misery of its prisoners back at the hapless souls whose sins were so horrendous to justify their incarceration within. It was a place that existed in no official records, and known only to a handful. He, as his duty as Supreme Arbiter demanded, was among those few.
The crystal guard standing before the entrance to the lift he and his escorts now exited wore the fluted amethyst regalia of The Mourners, ponies who, shamed by grievous indiscretion take on the life of soldier-ascetics to stand guard over the most fearsome and terrible secrets in the Equestrian domain. The ornate armor consumed the memories of the wearer when removed; leaving no recollection of the events transpired until again donned, such was the sensitivity of the knowledge they protected.
There was no such memory inhibition upon the Supreme Arbiter, and thus he grimly stepped inside the now open cell-accessible through an unusual gaping portal in the otherwise unmarked walls- knowing it his charge to remember all of these things and those to come in the very near future.
No two cells of the Kargar Warrens were the same, each carved into the crystal by hooves or hands unknown, each uniquely faceted and with a myriad of subtle features in the dimensions or the coloration of the constituent crystal. Among the mysteries of the Warrens, it was known, but no better understood, that each room and chamber had a monstrous, but not readily apparent purpose. The cell he now entered however was a perfect cube, populated by a Mourner at each corner and two more standing side by side in the center, the cell’s intended prisoner suspended between them.
He was a brown unicorn, young and otherwise unassuming, a distorted theater mask occupied the skin of his cutie mark. He hung suspended between two iron columns; chains clamped his hooves leaving him upright and spread eagle. One eye was nearly swollen shut, and the rest of his body showed signs of a vicious beating. Blood dripped unnervingly loud onto the pitch floor of the cell from still fresh wounds. A macabre steel half-mask was affixed to the prisoner’s muzzle by leather straps, the kind of implement that dissuaded talking not by holding the jaws shut, but with wicked sharp blades resting tight against the tongue. From the blood that dripped from the breathing slits of the mask, it was clear that the unicorn had made the mistake of attempting to speak. As for the youth’s horn, a sunburst shaped array of metal was affixed with screws, nestling in its center like a reliquary, a lapis blue stone: an archaic, elaborate magic nullifying talisman.
Quartz looked hard for a long moment at the unicorn bound up before him, trying to evaluate the…Thing that was the reason he was here “Report,” he growled to the Lieutenant standing at attention beside the unicorn. The…Thing, he decided to call it from now on had inspired a number of feelings in the old Judge’s heart. Fury, hot like a burning iron applied to his skin; cold, helpless sorrow; then the implacable wrath, the purpose borne of a final verdict.
“Guards moved to the Princess’ chambers soon after she failed to appear for her daily commune with the Crystal Heart. They found the door locked, and the posted guard missing, and when they received no reply to their calls, broke down the door. The culprit was in the act and attacked with a spell, wounding one of the responding guards and attempted to flee after I, the combat mage in the group retaliated,” the guardsmare, seasoned veteran Copper Coil related smartly, vitriol thick in her voice. Quartz already knew the details, he had been briefed extensively before his commission, but he appreciated the first hand statements from those who had been on scene. “He made it approximately twenty yards before being intercepted by another two mages and a nearby patrol. He resisted, but was quickly subdued and transported to this location on the orders of Captain Armor. The spell he utilized in his attack on the Princess was as of yet unknown, but upon study, its like will be easily countered in the future.”
The Arbiter nodded gratefully and glanced at the Amethyst studded breastplate adorning the Lieutenant. It was unfortunate to have to take such measures with a trusted officer and personal friend, but Coil had agreed to the order without complaint. He was glad that she wouldn’t remember what was to come, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Finally, he moved to address the thing in chains. The one good eye moved to glare at him, still odiously defiant. He sighed; it made no difference, this was not a trial and he needed not enforce court etiquette. He stood tall and rigid, and addressed the thing coldly.
“To begin, by lawful verdict, you have been found guilty by the highest authority of the land; I, Supreme Arbiter Quartz of the Equestrian High Court condemn you doubly of crimes against secular and holy law, as is my right and duty by the Judge’s Charge, bestowed by the Valiant Council and royal commission. Let none on heaven or earth dispute this ruling.”
A sputtering snarl issued from the thing as it wriggled in its bonds.
A pair of Mourners stepped forward from their posts, belts of fearsome implements on their belts. The first bore a flattened rod and a small cauldron of foul smelling pitch, the other, a collection of blades. Upon a word and spark of magic from the unicorn Mourner, the apparently enchanted cauldron began to glow with heat, setting the viscous tar into a slow boil. The thing began to struggle in earnest, thrashing against its chains and visibly straining in futile effort to use magic. The second Mourner paused in his evaluation of their stock of blades to work cranks in the restraining columns, tightening the chains until the thing was firmly immobilized, only able to breath in frantic horrified gasps and babble wetly into its mask.
When in short order the pitch was roiling fiercely, the second Mourner, seemingly satisfied in choice of instrument, set the blade to grisly work. He peeled away the thing’s scrotum with unsettling precision, carving away the flesh and carelessly discarding it to the ever more gruesome floor. By the time he sliced through the cords of a testicle and cast it away, the thing’s babbling had turned to animalistic screams. Blood wept freely from the brutalized flesh, and the second Mourner dipped his rod into the hot pitch and pressed a boiling wad of the tar onto the bleeding cuts. The screams intensified to an all new level. Satisfactorily cauterized, the Mourner repeated the procedure on the remaining testicle, paused for a second to allow for a second application of pitch. The screams took on a pleading note. When it came for the thing’s penis to come off, it had nearly screamed itself mute. All throughout, the attending guards and Quartz looked on impassively.
At the High Arbiter’s directing nod, the first Mourner replaced his now gore slicked blades with a fearsome saw, another antique; the tool was imbued with a multitude of enchantments that made it well equipped for the task to come. After securing the thing’s head with supports and more chains, the teeth of the saw made efficient, if not expedient, work of the horn. A third helping of boiling tar removed the risk of unintended expiration from blood loss.
Appraising the gruesome work before him, Quartz ordered “Remove the creature’s mask,” none too gently, the steel implement was unlatched and withdrawn. Blood and saliva flowed freely from behind torn lips. Quartz approached the wretch, careful of where he placed his feet “Does the condemned have any last words for the ears of the living?”
As it happened, the thing did have something to say, including some choice words about the Princesses. When he finished, Quartz flatly ordered the Mourners to take his tongue as well, and soon the thing was again rendered incomprehensible, as is common when attempting to speak with no more than a stump for a tongue and a mouth full of scalding tar.
Quartz sighed again, long and deep. “Unshackle the condemned and withdraw from this cell so that the execution may take place.” Swiftly his order was obeyed, and the complement of Mourners and Lieutenant Coil had vacated the cell, leaving the piteous creature laying on the cold, blood smeared floor before the Arbiter. He leaned as close as he cared to the thing, and grimaced.
“I fear that the only one that will be broken this day is you. Accept the death you now receive, and revel in Celestia’s benevolence,” is all he said before finally following suit and exiting. Behind him, the “door” that had existed to permit entry melted away as the uncanny crystal walls melded back to form a solid wall.
Within the now entirely enclosed darkness of the cube, the thing considered what fate had been decided for it. Was it to starve to death or eventually perish from infection of its wounds or suffocate for want of air? The answer came sooner than it would have expected.
First there was a curious noise, a low constant rumble; a strange bloodcurdling noise that set its heart near to panic, though it new not why. After some time of this, the thing began to crawl across the floor of the cell, seeking to move away from the bloodstained patch of crystal it had laid upon. To its surprise, it very quickly met the cold hard surface of a wall. The thing was puzzled, as it would have sworn that the cell had been much more spacious. Painfully, it moved to further explore the darkness and with a frightful jolt, found that it reached another wall even more quickly. Ears almost deafened by the now omnipresent rumble in the walls, and heart sick with mounting terror, the thing reached out, back against the wall, questing into the dark. With a cry of horror, its hooves touched icy cold crystal, but at arm’s reach. A quick flailing revealed that all four walls of the cell had converged upon him with terrifying swiftness, and he realized quite immediately the method the crystal ponies had chosen for his demise. The mysteries of the Warren were near endless, but some had been documented with some measure of success, it was in fact intentional that this cell had been chosen for the creature’s execution, for it was known to the Warren’s custodians that this cell, when occupied by a creature condemned to die, would rapidly shrink, squeezing and eventually crushing the victim. A draconian end for the worst offenders tried by the High Arbiter.
Within even a few more moments, the callous walls were choking the life from the thing, very nearly ending its unintelligible screams and pleas and other horrible vocalizations. But those pitiful howls fell not on deaf ears but rather the cruel crystal of the Warrens alone, for the complement of Equestrians had already departed the airless and claustrophobic tunnels for the lift that would take High Arbiter Smoky Quartz and his Mourner escort back to the sunlit world above to live another day. When finally the screams turned to pained gasps, and those turned to the muffled snap of bones and squelch of flesh, the Kargar Warrens again were returned to tomblike silence, its black crystal cells and twisting halls never quite completely forgotten by the inhabitants of the world above, waiting with the patience of stone for the day to come again to savor the screams of dying men.
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"I'm a man of peace now, I've left those days behind me. Down-votes are all I have to offer"
*Is shown this picture.*
"I'll get my gun."
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The writer sends a letter to the Sweet Acme Acres supply Co., then marks an "X" on the ground with a pencil and steps several feet to one side just in time to avoid a huge crate falling from a clear sky. "Thanks, Derpy", he calls, receiving a salute from the retreating grey pegasus. "Ok, let's do this", he mutters, and slaps a big red button on the crate, causing the front side to fall open.
For a moment, nothing happens, until three familiar fillies, wearing red robes leap out yelling "Cutie Mark Crusaders Inquisitors, autos de yay!!"
"Ya'll might wanna back up, guys; this could get messy." he says, pulling up a chair and a bucket of popcorn from which Pinkie appears, taking a seat next to him.
- Reply