Personification Life IC IX - [Semi Open]

[The Factory of Spike]

Javert walked slowly up to the fire. He winced as his eyes adjusted to the light. This was a lot more than he had bargained for when he had rented a small apartment. Thank god it was a new moon. He stopped at the very edge of the circle of firelight. The trench coat he was wearing meant he was in no need of extra warmth. He should, however, join the group. Other humans helped him keep control. Other intelligent beings at any rate. Who's idea was it to send a bunch of foolish adolescents to a remote beach with hardly any supervision? He cleared his throat loudly to attract the other's attention. "I take it you are the other tenants of The Building. My name's Javert. I live there now." Javert speaks in a Scottish accent.

[Giovenith]

"Huh?" A brand new voice caught Giovenith's ear, as she stood and knelt on her shins to spot Javert standing there. "Oh wow, another new person!"

This was turning out to be quite the Christmas, indeed!

"Hi there, hi!" The white-haired teenager quickly scrambled up from her spot, carefully dodging around the fire and hopping over to the man. "My name is Giovenith, yes, we're from the Building!" THE Building. Ha! It was so strange that it could just be referred to that, and people would know what it meant. "What's your name? Please, sit!"

[Cerillium]

"I have only been training for a few days." Yuna joked, grinning at Giovenith's support of her endeavor to succeed for her mentor, Will. The young Pyersai simply felt privelaged to wear the uniform, so understandably, anything above that would simply be awesome! (Or so Yuna dearly hoped)

Drova, on the other hand, was listening to Wren explain the wards that they could make, and wondered why they'd need them.

"I'm up to the task." He said, pledging his support in the little adventure they were beginning to set for themselves.

Wren - always up for mischief. He grinned at his sister and then returned to listening to the others. He shrugged at Drova's question, perfectly happy to let people decide. "I'm up for whatever anyone wants to do."

He looked to the others to see what the consensus was.

---

Barox stood next to her and listened intently to it. Nodding and admiring her knowledge on something he knew nothing about, even if he didn't believe in such things like that.

The female cyborg grinned at her brother and then leaned in to whisper in Barox's ear, "The Brotherhood likes to prank."

She caught sight of the newcomer and straightened up. "Welcome, Javert," she said without needing to dwell upon his sudden appearance. She attributed his arrival to the cultists and knew they wouldn't have brought him here if he wasn't a tenant. Besides, Giovenith was already welcoming him into their group.

"I'm Wren, and this is Barox," she gestured to the tech priest next to her as best she could. She was still holding a plate of food. "That's my brother, Marcus."

A young cyborg near the fire lifted his hand in greeting.

Wren was unfamiliar with the others. Some she knew by name, such as Giovenith and Torii, but the others were a mystery to her.

[The Factory of Spike]

Javert's lips twitched upward in spite of himself. Enthusiasm is very infectious. He might not Completely despise this place.

"Thank you. I think I will sit"

He sat in front of the fire. Talking animals and other strange things. His kind of people. What could really go wrong with a tropical vacation? He had to stop himself from making a list of possible answers to that question. That sort of thinking is dangerous. It leads to complacency. He started to listen to the other's conversation. He better get to now these people if he wanted to remain part of the group.

[Giovenith]

Returning to her spot, Giovenith smiled and began gesturing at other members of the group, introducing quite a few. "You've already met Wren, Marcus, and Mister Barox. This is Torii, Myra, Yuna, Drova, Rocco, Jacob, Sterling, Nick, Willow..." and so on, and so forth. "We were just trying to spook each other with a few scary stories! Willow was offering to tell one, if anyone wanted. Would you like some marshmallows?"

The teen reached over, grabbed the bag, and offered it to the new fellow.

[Cerillium]

Marcus studied Javert. He was an adult and wouldn't fit in the teen club, but he seemed alright. He nodded in support of Giovenith's words.

"Yep, ghost stories. Maybe even making Huhnerarschlocher to ward off trouble. Those are devices, like charms, that keep the Metzger away."

The boy realized that this was all completely foreign to the new arrival. He sat up and pointed towards an odd, glittering dome far up the beach. "The cultists. They belong to a pantheon called Chaos. They're good guys, for the most part. The Metzger are part of them, and are butchers. Everyone who's part of their pantheon is up there under that dome doing a ritual. You see, the avatar of the god who led them died. She was loved by a lot of people, including some of us here. They're celebrating the life she gave them and welcoming in a new god to lead them. They're weird people, and all of them are hosts to Daemons. Back home in Bielefeld, they help the city keep the peace. Some residents for the building do, too."

His finger pointed out to sea where a vessel was anchored. "That's the ship where most of them were staying. A typhoon hit yesterday and destroyed all our huts, so we were welcomed to stay with them. We'll rebuild our huts tomorrow. Some of the cultists have already built the framework and roofs for us."

Marcus shrugged. "You probably have a lot of questions. Feel free to ask 'em. We'll try to give good answers."

[Torsiedelle]

"Hello.", Torii greeted the new person. another new person. This place seemed to somehow attract a lot of new people.

The little blonde girl sat on the far side of the fire, mostly in darkness, having not moved since her story. It was cozy there anyway.

"I'd probably be up for Willow's story. I'd still love to do the ward, though...It's up to everyone else what we do, for me!", She stated, before taking back out the blue market that willow had given her. She found her lines on her arm, and started doodling stars and hearts around them nonchalantly. She hummed silently, and continued to listen.

[Giovenith]

"I think we should put off stories until Javert here is good and settled," said Willow, stepping down from the plate in favor of more pressing circumstances. Besides, the pony had the feeling under his skin that no one actually wanted to hear him anyway. "Marcus has already dumped a lot of new information on him, and he probably does have a lot of questions."

[Cerillium]

(ooc: meanwhile..... far away in America)
Part 1: Collab w/GT/Tilt/Cer/Swith

Chrys stood a little way out, alternating between watching Hans play grave robber while she scanned the surroundings, broken by rows of tombstones. Fortunately, there wasn’t much happening yet and none of the locals had noticed their grim endeavors. She wondered what Naomi thought. Dora had said the godling had unusual courage.

There was a flurry of activity as Hans went about his Igor duties. The soil lifted to reveal -what else? - dirt. Hans didn’t believe Ceril’s suggestion, even for a moment. He did believe that it should only take fifteen minutes to uncover the coffin, and so it did.

A harsh metallic ting signaled shovel hitting the coffin’s crown.

Ceril’s eyebrow arched. Paydirt. He breathed a relieved sigh. “Get out of the hole, Hans. I’ll lift the top open.”

The cultist climbed from the pit and brushed the grime from his hands. He stood beside Chrys and Naomi and used his body to partially shield the godling from anything too grizzly. The old cyborg lowered himself into the hole to wrench open the coffin.

Inside it was not a body, nor a body part, but instead a small piece of paper folded horizontally. From the looks of it too, there was a small circular object slightly bulging in the center. Ceril’s frown intensified as he held it up for one of the others to take.

Naomi’s hands gingerly reached out and she plucked the paper from his fingertips. “So, wait… no body?” She carefully unfolded the paper, praying there wasn’t a bomb in there, to better understand the mystery.

Chrys glanced around at the others. “I don’t understand. Is that normal?” she chimed. The contents of the paper intrigued her.

Naomi turned her face up to look at Chrys. “No, I don’t think it’s normal.” She peered at the paper. It was a note which also contained a ring. The little god recognized it as being Thriller’s wedding ring and she showed it to the others.. Her brows knit together. “Listen,” she said and began to read what was on the paper.

Dear, flapjackass or whoever found this piece of paper,

If you are looking for Cornelius Thri-...Hickory McCoy, then you can find his pale ass somewhere in the Rockies in Idaho, USA. Good luck on finding the vault.

With love, Levi Thriller

P.S. Yes I ate all the cookies if you wondered.

“I don’t get the cookies reference, though,” she added, “But I know Thriller was fond of the Rockies. What’s an Idaho?”

“It’s a state, Naomi,” Ceril chuffed. He slammed the coffin lid down and crawled out. “We can take the ship.”

[Swith Witherward]

Part 2: Collab w/GT/Tilt/Cer/Swith

Idaho turned out to be a large state. The Strumpet maintained orbit as the group rifled through various maps and Naomi scoured her borrowed memories. Her mind pointed her towards a tiny sliver of memory dealing with Custer County and a largish town named Challis. Perhaps there was a property record there?

It was certainly enough to get them back on track and the tiny drop ship vanished into the trees an hour later. Naomi insisted that Ceril cover himself with a cloak so as to not frighten the population and Hans reluctantly slipped on a trench coat to cover his cultist uniform. Chrys wasn’t pleased, but she decided to follow suit, leaving her spatha aboard.

The sleepy town continued it’s daily life, mired in old age and untouched by the war like most towns hidden away, unlike major cities that were still rebuilding. One thing for sure was that very few people in the town were human. One eye-catching group was a 7ft 8in minotaur walking down the street with a 3ft 2in fox wearing a yellow dress with red flowers sitting on his shoulder. Next to them was the familiar face of Levi Thriller, who was carrying a box labeled Jägermeister.

“You made me wear this fucking cloak for nothing,” Ceril growled. It did provide good cover however. His eyes narrowed as he shielded his optics from the bright sun. Levi.

The old cyborg slipped past a few citizens and fell in step with Levi and his companions. His heavy boots dulley thudded in time with Levi’s feet. “Hello clone.”

Naomi and the others picked up their pace and joined them. They flanked the group but remained casual in attitude.

“Hiya Levi,” Naomi brushed her bangs from her eyes.

“Dah fuuu-” The clone shouted at the sound of Ceril, almost throwing the box in the air. He turned around with his comrades next to him. “Oh, it’s just you pasty peasants. Now then, before you say a thing, you are here for Cornelius Thriller.”

Naomi bobbed her head. “I promised Swith. I promised to finish her quest when she died. She wanted it that way. Levi, why did you move his body?”

“Wait, Swith is dead?” He remarked. The news quite shocked him; he never heard the news from the others. Of course he thought back to when he severed the ability to communicate with the main Levi. “Well shit, almost seems useless to revive him but, since we are already so deep into the project, quitting now seems redundant. And if you wonder, I stole his body to revive him.”

Naomi sighed. “You could have dropped us a postcard to tell us that!” Her eyes focused on a pebble on the ground. How much should she even try to explain?

“We would have told you about Swith but the you we know, which is one of how many?... eek. Anyway, he walked off. And if we don’t revive Thriller, who’s gonna raise the twins? I mean, Ogoti has guardianship, but they need at least one parent.”

“Well that is shit for the twins. Speaking of twins, have you seen the two Levis that ran off before we left for war?”

The minotaur next to him gave a cough and a look at Levi. Levi looked up at him then back at the group. “Oh right, these two right here is Martel, the minotaur, and his adorable little sister is Chloe.” The minotaur nodded while the little fox gave a small wave.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Naomi bowed. “I’m Naomi. This is my husband, Ceril. That’s Hans, and that’s Chrys.”

The group offered various waves or gestures.

“Levi?” Naomi continued, “Is there someplace we could go and talk? You know, about reviving him?”

“Oh yeah, sure thing we can head back to these chaps’ home back on the county border with the county north of this one.” Levi gladfully answered.

[Cerillium]

Part 3: Collab w/GT/Tilt/Cer/Swith

Moments later, they arrived outside a cave with a dirt road leading up to it. The area around them was a forest in between two small ridges. The cave itself had some floodlights that illuminated the way far enough to see the giant metallic vault door down the way. Levi, and the two others who took a jeep there, got out at the entrance of the cave and stood for a while, seeing where everyone was for the moment before continuing on.

Ceril and Hans appraised the setting. It worked. It was secluded enough to serve as a lair. The old cyborg wasn’t accustomed to pristine wilderness but Hans was right at home. The cultist leader smiled at Chrys and drank in the beauty of both woodland and woman.

The group hopped back into the jeep and moved on down the narrow cave. The massive door barring the way, and the size of the cave itself, was apparently so large vehicles such as tanks could be moved through. Chloe quickly jumped out and scrambled over to the pad next to the door.

The process to get the door open would take five minutes due to layers of passcodes and scanning done. Once the process was complete, an alarm went off and the door opened with a low moan as it parted down the middle and slid to each side. The sight behind the door was surely something. Inside was what every villain/hero/secret organization wanted.

The garage was massive, two football fields long and one wide with a catwalk that lined the rocky walls on the inside. Bridges every 200 meters or so to connect both sides. But that wasn’t the only impressive feature. Lined up into two rows down the wide garage were a myriad of vehicles, mostly tanks that ranged from 20th century to 21st century, with the exception of the Bugatti Veyron Super Sports all the way down at the end to the left, next to the empty spot where the jeep belonged. However, on the far right side, standing alone in polished condition was the reason for the size of the door and cave. At around 1,000 tonnes stood the Landkreuzer P. 1000 Ratte.

Levi parked the jeep next to the sports car, turned it off and got out. “Well, that is that. Stay awhile, make yourself at home and enjoy the tanks… Looking at them of course.”

Hans wanted to do more than look but a swift kick to his shins from Ceril reminded him that this wasn’t his personal playground. “Planning on taking over America?” the cultist leader grinned. “Want help?”

Martel overheard the two’s conversation and spoke out. “Doubtful you could do it with these things. The 1000 at the other end, maybe, but good luck getting the fuel and ammo for it, it’s a bitch to come across, let alone gather.”

Naomi was distracted by the setting itself. She didn’t have a mind for military equipment. “It’s lovely but you need bats,” she advised. “But what of Thriller? You didn’t stuff him into a mech tank thing, right?”

Levi, on the other hand, was distracted with Naomi. “No tanks, this is the entrance to the whole damn building. We need to go on, up the catwalk through the double doors, down another hall till we get to some white, sliding, metal doors. There we can meet the professor, doctor, or whatever you want to call him.”

“Daddy?” Chloe asked as she looked up at him.

“Yes, to meet your daddy, and maybe the your other brothers and sister.” He replied as he looked down at the creature.

Ceril glanced at the offspring. Thriller - Thriller was married to the God of Lust. How the fuck can anyone put so much effort into test tubes when they were married to the hottest woman this side of the Warp. He said nothing however.

Naomi’s eyes rolled. The old cyborg was annoying at times, or so Naomi believed based upon his expression. She assumed the father was the scientist but also said nothing about it. “Lead the way, Levi, please.”

“Will try my best. Be warned though, most of the place purposely has dead ends to help confuse enemies, in case the place was ever under attack.” He lead them on a long journey down the halls, some with doors on sides with signs next to them. The halls had a bit of a hospital theme. The green and white tile flooring and white walls gave the feeling somewhat. One room in particular they passed by was called, “Genetic Alteration Lab”, another a “Cloning Lab”. Finally, after three minutes of walking, they reached the end: Two white doors, made of steel.

“Is everyone ready to see what is on the other side?” Levi asked the group and they nodded in reply.

Ceril in particular was interested in the tech. “Levi, what’s the purpose for all this? Why so much?” He attempted to fathom the whole concept.

“Why so much shit? Hell if I know, just know that this guy is one of his friends that took time out of his life to try and revive him.” Levi input a number code onto the pad next to the door. Without looking at the group he said, “Now is the time, if you are sensitive to light or get migraines due to photosensitivity, to wear some sunglasses... Too late.”

Chrys had begun to examine all the technology a bit; hospitals were foreign to her. At Levi’s words, though, she closed her eyes to squint. The door open as it did, bright light would be first to crawl out of the room. And it would be clear why. The walls, floor and ceiling were all white, with bright LED lighting in it. Ceril’s optics flickered and he visibly winced. The rest were left to blink at the sudden change. Why do I always forget Levi’s quirky humor? he lamented to himself.

Hans whistled as he peered into the room. He found himself standing in a cube-shaped space, perfectly symmetrical in measurements. He estimated it to be damn near 300x300 meters. Directly in the middle was a control panel. It was much more interesting than what the tech priests had going on in their observatory back in Bielefeld.

The old cyborg gently pinched Naomi’s shirt to keep her from wandering into the space. Her eyes had been drawn to a line which moved 50 meters to the right, streaming from that ocular space until it reached the mother of all machines: buttons and switches lining all 300 meters on the right side, wall to wall components with the same line lining parallel with it.

“What is it for?” she whispered to Ceril. Her hands pointed to a massive monitor screen looming over it all. There was nothing but white walls 200 meters in the other direction but her interest had been captured by two epic screens that occupied the walls opposite each other. Everything looks as if it were sterile.

The two hybrids ran across the way towards the other door directly across the way. Levi gave the magical hand signal that told him everyone to wait a moment before they entered into the room.

“Genetic tinkering, or full scale bioweapons?” the old cyborg muttered to Levi as he eyed the minotaur and fox.

“Stuff they do here is mostly harmless, trust me, I have been living here for a few weeks now. What I didn’t know about was the genetic workshops we saw on the way here.”

Hans’ mind was already thinking of possibilities. Would they be willing to share resources? The cultists were fairly limited in Bielefeld thanks to the fussy government. He kept his tongue still. There’d be plenty of time to ask later. He wandered back to Chrys’ side and stood placidly next to her.

“When this is all said and done, I’d like to hear your story,” Ceril cast a concerned look towards Levi. “I have a feeling that the other Levis are unaware of this. If so, you’ve risked much by taking us into confidence. Thank you for extending trust to us.”

“Oh come now, I may be one of several AI cloned version of the original, but even then we can have a mind of our own. For better or worse.” Levi replied.

Moments passed and then came the sound of muffled yelling between two new voices. It rose in volume as the speakers approached the door across the way. The door opened to reveal two hybrids, a tigress and a wolf, who were arguing with one another. Behind them was an old man who looked to be in his 80s.

Ceril snorted. The geriatric fellow had a somewhat typical mad scientist look, especially his 1” thick glasses, white-greyish hair that was balding on top, and the optical gizmo perched atop of his head. Another person ghosted behind the scientist.

Naomi peered at the old man intently. This was the “daddy” fellow the hybrids spoke of? She studied his face and his eyes almost hesitantly. Tinkerers and scientists made her nervous. It was a leftover trait from Swith born from Herr Doktor initially wanted to dissect her.

“Hello, sir,” she wiggled her fingers at him timidly.

The old man was deep in thought payed no attention, nor did the two creatures flanking him. The final child, second youngest by what could be seen by height, was a young lion male who looked to be 12. He gave a wave from across the room while the scientist walked to the circular control pad. With a push of a button, a chair appeared in the center of it. He took a seat and began typing away. The two others that lead him in walked over into the open part of the room.

“He’s slightly deaf,” Levi whispered to Naomi. “Being 120 years old can do that to you.”

“Oh,” Naomi looked a bit more intimidated but she drew a deep breath. “HELLO SIR!”

[The BranRiech]

"And we know nothing." Drova spoke up, grinning at the new arrival. Between his sister and him, the two probably knew the least about any of the Chaos stuff, and Yuna inadvertently ended up working with them, and still barely knew, other than that she was having a lot of fun, so learning of the faction providing her with that fun probably wouldn't change her mind too much.

"Well, we know a few things, like what people we are?" Yuna shrugged, shaking her head along with it.

The Pyersai would appear as odd (Understatement, most likely) to the newcomer, Javert. Their skin was a dark-grayish blue, their eyes piercing orange, and their hair ice-white. But the most . . . Different part about them would be their wings, with Raven-black feathers that supported the beings in flight.

[Cerillium]

"And we know nothing." Drova spoke up, grinning at the new arrival. Between his sister and him, the two probably knew the least about any of the Chaos stuff, and Yuna inadvertently ended up working with them, and still barely knew, other than that she was having a lot of fun, so learning of the faction providing her with that fun probably wouldn't change her mind too much.

"Well, we know a few things, like what people we are?" Yuna shrugged, shaking her head along with it.

The Pyersai would appear as odd (Understatement, most likely) to the newcomer, Javert. Their skin was a dark-grayish blue, their eyes piercing orange, and their hair ice-white. But the most . . . Different part about them would be their wings, with Raven-black feathers that supported the beings in flight.

"We could tell him about Bielefeld, too. The Drone invasion and stuff," Marcus volunteered. "Some of that is almost good enough to be a ghost story."

He settled against the log again and let his eyes wander the skies in the hope of another shooting star. He knew what he wanted to wish for next time.

[Torsiedelle]

"I don't like to talk about that...attack."

Tora still rembered a bullet wound in her stomach, and being carried by Bran back to Chaos, her blood and guts barely being kept in. It gave her shivers, and made her dizzy.

"I remember it all as the end for many things; not just Vaffleheim.", She added cryptically, hunting at one thing or another.

[Giovenith]

"It's a rather long story though, don't you think?" Giovenith chuckled uneasily, surveying the group. "Besides, he has become every small person's dream. He was walked into the story, and is living it now."

Giovenith honestly didn't know if it would have been better to allow Javert to learn about some of the more horrifying aspects on his own, or for the group to give him a fair warning of just what he'd gotten into. The teen girl herself had been lucky, she had come into this never-ending, sometimes gothic-seeming fairy tale at an early page, and had scraped by the whole time steadily enough to know what to expect (which was to accept that you could never really accurately expect anything). But Javert? They had only just met. She didn't know what genre he preferred. Not just him, but Yuna, Drova, and even Willow who was now eyeing her questioningly from across the flames, silently inquiring about this "attack" as well. A shake of the head from the godling told the pegasus it was bad stuff, letting him know not to pounce onto the subject himself.

"Or, perhaps just what he really needs to know right now?" she finally suggested. "About who's what and all that. War stories can be... long." And excruciating for those who had been there, added in non-verbally by her glance in Torii's direction.

[The Factory of Spike]

"What are Daemons anyway? Is anyone here an average human? I'm sorry, that was impolite. I suppose I should tell you that I am a werewolf myself." I hope I haven't offended any of them. This group has obviously come through difficult times. I suppose my own story is nothing compared to there's. oddly, instead of scaring me, this makes me feel more comfortable. I think I may even enjoy this.

[Torsiedelle]

Torii saw Giovenith glance at her, and she felt a little bad. It wasn't like she didn't want to talk about it, but....

As for the new man, and his question, Torii nodded. "I'm a normal human. No powers or anything belong to me, and I'm proud of that!", She said. She was feeling a little awkward on the other side of the fire now, so she got up and walked over to the other side and take a seat on the sand again.

[Giovenith]

"I'm a godling, but fairly low on the chain," Giovenith explained herself. "I can't do some of the things like Torii can do, for example. She can shoot guns and stuff. So a werewolf, huh?"

"Is this... not normal?" Willow mumbled confusedly, mostly to himself. As stated before, the pony had no pre-conceived notion of what "normal" was for the human race, and has thus been assuming this whole time that literally every person here was considered status quo. If they all weren't normal, than what was?

[Fvaarniimar]

Nick, deciding that now would be a good time to butt in, meowed, walked up, and sat on Javert's foot. <Hello. I'm Nick (image of a reflection of Nick in a mirror.) I'm new too.>

[The BranRiech]

"We don't know anything about that either." Yuna shrugged, with Drova looking equally confused. The two arrived after the last Drone invasion, and weren't subjected to the horrors of facing an enemy that planned to wipe them off the face of the earth. In fact, the two didn't really remember all that much about the apartment, besides that their weird and awesome friends lived there, and that they now shared the place with them.

"Yeah, we're still pretty new here ourselves." Drova added, finishing what his sister was saying. "Hey, here's an idea, how about we all tell a little story about ourselves, eh? Get the new guy to know us a bit more?"

[The Factory of Spike]

"It depends on who you ask for a definition of normal. People who live outside the Building would not consider us normal. People who live inside would. To my mind, normal doesn't even exist." Javert looked down a the cat on his feet. He had avoided cats since his change, but thankfully he did not feel at all angered by its presence. "Telling stories might not be a bad idea."

[Swith Witherward]

Myra had grown more quiet than usual. She'd assumed that some of the group were normal, and others might just be enchanted. The realization that she wasn't alone in being not-so-fully-human should have been a weight off her shoulders but, at the same time, she wasn't too eager to share her own genetic makeup or tell stories about her time before Bielefeld.

She focused on Javert instead. "Well, tell us about you. Were you born a werewolf or is it like I've heard, where people are bitten?" She smiled encouragingly.

Thankfully, Myra was not around when Thriller was turned into a werejesus. Her knowledge on were-anythings was very limited.

[Giovenith]

"I'm curious about that as well, I've never met a werewolf ever before," Giovenith said, doubling on Myra's question. "I also think Drova had a pretty good idea, it would organize things for Javert here to understand." She smiled at how Nick was also being cuddly with the newcomer.

[Giovenith]

OOC: Laying down foundation for future introduction and plotline. Do not reply to. All characters are canon.

Ponyville, Equestria

Twas the night of Hearth's Warming Eve, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... because they had all been put to bed by the gentle equine guardians of the world. They needed their sleep, just like everypony else. The nationwide holiday had been as grand a success as any year, with patriotic ponies across the land coming together to celebrate the triumph of the Three Original Friends over the freezing winds of hatred, exchange meaningful gifts, sing a rousing carol or a hundred, and kept hearts as warm as alit hearths. But now, with the celebrations concluded, most ponies had since retreated to their warm, snuggly beds, as even one of the most cheerful species across the dimensions got tired after a certain amount of reveling. One after another, towns, cities, and villages across the land of ponies dimmed and hushed into complete stillness.

Tick, tick, tick, tick…

The antique grandfather clock did nothing to disturb the residents of its abode, nor did its quiet, yet ominous chime that echoed carefully against the dainty, floral wallpaper.

BONG, BONG, BONG…

Three o’ clock in the morning.

Only after the final waves of the final chime has dissipated, had the object of its heraldry began to make it’s presence known. It started as just the faintest scratching, no louder than a snowflake’s puny assault, and then steadily grew into clunks and whooshing as the back window in the kitchen flew upward. It stayed lodged there for a few seconds, before a figure gracefully slid through the opening, landing on the tiled floor without even so much as a click of her hooves.

‘Mmm, someone’s been making candies!’ was her first thought upon entering the home, tossing her head back and forth in search of the wonderful scent. Weightless puffs of purple and white mane bounced without care around a pretty pink face, framing a smile as angelic and crooked as a shattered vanity. ‘Wait, waaaaait, no. Can’t eat candy right now.’

A slender pink foreleg reached upward and readjusted the green and yellow propeller beanie atop her head, and her tongue slathered drool all along her muzzle (which she did not bother to clean) as she assessed her surroundings. It was a typical Lackluster home, draped in what she saw as the unforgivably mundane… what kitchen was complete without dancing candles and squirt-happy soup tureens? No, no, the checker board pattern on the floor was all wrong, there were no squiggles- and oh! The table! No, no, no, that wouldn’t do at all…

Chitter, chitter, chitter… the leftover china from the holiday snack time rattled dangerously, as the four legs of the table beneath them began to levitate slowly, one inch, two inches, further and further into the air. Dishes, silverware, and tablecloth alike began to levitate on their own to keep from making an excessive noise as the unharmonious pink mare worked her craft.

‘There!’

She knew she hadn’t been supposed to do anything else to the house besides what she had been ordered, but really, it was just one little correction. It was a shame that the Lacklusters were still so lost in their eternal dreary damnation, that they probably wouldn’t appreciate her act of kindness immediately. But someday, when the scales had fallen from everypony’s eyes, they would seek her out, and they would thank her. Yes, such golden days would those be. Soon, very soon.

Time to get what she came for. Reaching out and tasting the air, she could tell that the two bedrooms were down separate halls that both began at the living room, and that the one down the right tasted of things that did not belong. That was what she required. A crooked smile graced her face, and the propeller on her beanie gave an excited whirl, as the loopy Earth pony danced into the air and swam through it down the hall. The knob turned under her influence, and the door slowly creaked into the bedroom, where a loudly snoring, minty green unicorn lay sprawling on a messy bed. Come to think of it, this whole room was messy! Candy wrappers, crushed potato chips, broken lyre strings, and all sorts of odd drawings of sprawly tentacle things… Minty over here wasn’t a very good housekeeper. Normally she would have found this admirable, but it would complicate things if she wasn’t able to find what she needed.

A quick surveillance of the whole room quickly cast off any of those doubts. There in the back, probably the only clean part of the entire room, lay a large dresser than served as a display table for exactly what she had been told about. The pink mare floated over all the mess, and landed right in front of the dresser, taking everything in with fixed glee. It was quite the collection, she had to admit. The first thing that grabbed her immediate attention was what kind of looked like pajamas for twin baby octopi. There was a clunky, cube-like thing with a long, curly, clubbed tail that rested on top of it, a whirly-thing, and a few other more normal objects, like rusty old spoons and cans. These all sat beside two framed photos, displayed with obvious care and love: One was older, a snapshot portrait of a mare who didn’t look much different from the snoring minty one, and the other of a little filly (a tiny minty-snore) sitting cheerfully beside a seated elderly mare.

But what to take? Nothing too heavy or clunky, no, it would have to be something light… the pink mare’s eyes caught something toward the back of the collection, what appeared to be three rolled up pieces of paper. Her influence levitated one over to her, carefully unrolling it in front of her.

‘What a deeeeeelightful creature!’ she thought.

So this was the elusive human. Bit of a meaty thing, wasn’t it? What with all that muscle, those soft claws, and if what she had been told was anything go by, full of potential to help pushing in the long-awaited golden days. She thought she’d take this, yes, it was perfect. In it went into the hammerspace in her beanie, mission accomplished!

‘Dizzy-friend will be so-‘

BYONG!

Several lyre strings snapped and curled up upon the instrument’s collision with her skull, knocking the unusual pink Earth pony straight across the other side of the room. Visible cartoon birds flew in circles above her head. The mint-green unicorn breathed heavily from the adrenaline rush, pulling the lyre close to her with her levitation magic and turning to call out toward the door.

“Bon Bon!” the unicorn yelled frantically, “Bon Bon, get in here! There’s somepony in the-“

The pink mare recovered much quicker than what should have been possible for any natural pony, and although she was petite in apparent physique, she had no problem with leaping up, front-bucking the mint unicorn out of her way, and zipping out into the hall, where she heard another door burst open somewhere. She had misjudged the two Lacklusters, and now she had bruises for it.

“What’s going on out there?!” a different voice shouted, as a cream-colored Earth pony mare with pink and purple hair came galloping into the living room just as the pink mare reached it as well, lifting a lacey sleeping mask from her eyes, which widened at the sight of the twisted-looking filly. “Wha- Lyra-!”

Bon Bon failed to finish her call, as the pink mare tackled her and proceeded to slobber all over the other pony’s face, drawing a few horrified shrieks from the confectionary baker.

“Mm, you’re the one who made the candy!” the pink mare finally chirped out loud, in a sweet, demure, childish voice unfitting of the insanity at hand. There were still some sugar-particles on the Lackluster’s face.

“Get offa her, ya freak!” The angry unicorn and her golden string-plucking instrument of doom had returned, skirting to a stop in the hall opening as her magic pulled back the torn-up lyre and letting it sail through the air. But this time the pink mare was prepared, and as the lyre spun towards her head, it suddenly stopped mid-air right before collision, turned around, and went flying right back into the surprised head of the mint unicorn, knocking her down to the floor.

The pink mare saw her chance. She bid the cream pony beneath her adieu with a wet raspberry, leaped through the air toward the front door, turned and gave another happy wave, before bursting out through the door into the winter night.

“She’s got my poster!” screamed Lyra, recovering from the counter-attack and scrambling towards the door. “Get back here!”

Too late, for as soon as the unicorn reached the front porch, the freakish pink Earth pony had already disappeared from sight. Puffs of white clouds flew up into the chill air as Lyra huffed heavily from adrenaline and anger, swinging her head left and right in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of the thief, but it quickly became apparent to her as well that all hope of that was lost. Frustrated, she turned back to the light of her home, slamming the door behind her.

“What was that?” asked Bon Bon, wiping the excessive droll off of her face with the sleeve of her robe. “Did she take anything?”

“Yeah, one my posters! My hu-” Lyra gasped suddenly in pain, hoof going to the spot where the lyre had struck her.

“Oh sweetie,” soothed Bon Bon with concern, tentatively taking her roommate’s face in her hooves and inspecting the bump. “That really did a number on you. We should probably put some ice on it.”

“Bon Bon, she took one of my posters!” Lyra repeated, wincing at Bon Bon gently felt her injury.

“Sweetie, come on, it was just a poster. We’re just lucky we weren’t seriously hurt by that insane mare.”

“No, it was one of my special posters!” Lyra said more urgently, gripping one of Bon Bon’s hooves. “One of the one’s from my collection, the things my grandmother left me. You know, the-“

“Don’t you start again, Lyra,” Bon Bon sighed with exasperation. “We’ve just been through a serious ordeal, and I am not in the mood for this argument again.”

“But-“

“Lyra Heartstrings. Repeat after me: There are no such things as humans.”

“There are!” snapped Lyra, pulling back and scowling at her friend. “Just because you’ve never seen one-“ This, too, was cut off by a gasp of pain.

Bon Bon shook her head, choosing to drop the subject. “Just sit, I’ll get you that ice.” With that, the mare turned and made her way to the kitchen.

Lyra sighed and looked down, pressing a hoof to her bump, still shaking ever so slightly over her frustration. The thief took one of her posters, one of her only precious posters… one of the only things left from grandma’s stories. She still couldn’t believe that despite seeing it so many times, Bon Bon didn’t see it’s value—the confectionary baker thought it was some sort of gag gift. But no matter what her friend thought now, it was gone, lost… she hadn’t taken care of the collection like she’d promised grandma. Her golden eyes began to line with hot tears, but she quickly shook them off, not being one to cry.

Just sit. Oh she would sit, alright. Lyra walked over to the couch, but instead of hopping on top of it, the pony jumped up and stood on her hind legs, carefully allowing her back to hit the back-stand of the sofa. The natural alignment of her spine made it difficult to get the position just right, but Lyra had practice, and was able to comfortably slide her hind legs over the edge of the couch, while propping her front leg over the arm of it. It was not how ponies were built to sit, no, this was Lyra’s preferred method: the human way.

“LYRA!” Bon Bon suddenly screamed.

The horror of the scream knocked the unicorn out of her smug state of mind, prompting her to quickly leap up from the couch and gallop toward the kitchen. There, Bon Bon was staring at something in shocked silence.

“What is it?! What’s wrong?! Is somepony else… here…” Lyra trailed off, as her eyes followed Bon Bon’s, now equally stunned.

Their table was perfectly arranged, much nicer than the two had left it when they had gone to bed. The tablecloth was clean, the tea set and plates all in their right places, leftover bits of Hearth’s Warming Ever dinner piled nearly in the center.

The whole thing was also upside down on the ceiling.

[The Factory of Spike]

"Lets see, werewolves. Yes, I was bitten. I must have been, although I don't remember the first night. I was in the forest, chasing someone, and then I woke up. Now, at least, I remember my time as the wolf and am in control most of the time. It only happens on the full moon, and no matter what, I do transform. I look like a regular wolf, none of that standing upright business, and My senses are heightened even when I am human. I'm quite thankful that tonight is the new moon. It means it will be awhile to my next transformation. Enough about me. What about the rest of you?"

Javert starts to wonder whether Nick could read his thoughts when touching him. He certainly hoped not. He didn't really want to tell the others about the dead wolf he had found beside him that first night. The one that turned into a human. He jerked out of his contemplation to listen to the others talk.