[MLP:RIM]: The Broken Road II - Echoes of the Past

[Balmas]

The pegasus touched down lightly, almost noiselessly on the sand before the cave. Really, it was almost tempting to just set up a tent on the outside, rather than go back in there. He'd have to go inside anyway, though, if he wanted to go get his tablecloth. That would mean questions, and he wasn't entirely sure he had the answers yet.

After waffling for a moment or two, Dive Bomb squared his shoulders and walked into the cave. It was but a moment's work to fold the tablecloth into a rough mattress, and doubling the end of the sheet made a crude pillow.

He was asleep before he hit the pad.

[TheAmishPirate]

[Dreams of the Past]

"And here is where magic is born!"

With a grand, sweeping flourish, Crown Cork flung open the double doors. Beside him, an orange pegasi with a silver mane shielded their eyes from the sudden burst of light and sound. Inside, rows upon rows of machines, boiler presses, assembly lines, wheel-turners, fizz-makers, and other modern marvels of engineering kept a steady, speedy pace. Glass bottles entered the menagerie of metal on one end, fell under a rain of fruits, sugars, and mystery ingredients, and emerged full to the brim with sparkling, fizzy soda. A small army of workers hailed the visitors to their domain before turning their eyes back on their work.

"Born, bottled, and shipped to the four corners of Equestria!" Crown continued as he led his client down a set of stairs and onto the assembly floor. "Though our tools may change with the ages, and we've had to bring in quite a few non-family members along the way," the colt chuckled at his little joke. "Rest assured that you will still find no bottled beverage - no fizzy drink, no wine, no sparkling water, no hearty juice - that can dare compare with the wonder that is..." He plucked a full, purple bottle from the line and held it up to the skies, letting the light sparkle violet streaks upon his face. "Cork soda!"

His pegasus companion applauded lightly with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, yes, that's all well and good. But tell me..." He leaned forward with questioning eyes. "What does it mean to be a Cork?"

Ha! As if such trivial questions could give him pause? "Quality!" He gleefully answered without a moment's loss. "Every bottle of Cork soda is full to the brim not only with flavor beyond imagination, but with the heart and soul of every pony in this fair company! From the illustrious Pop Cork, to the lowliest of janitors, we put the very best our strength and will can offer into our craft. That, my good friend, is worth far more than any 'secret ingredient'."

Crown seized another bottle from the line, expertly uncapped both, and passed one to his client. "Now, talk is cheap! Let us drink and experience the difference for ourselves; to Quality!"

The chink of glass sounded over all the machinery and ponies, and then all was silent...

[One Tin Soldier]

Grease rested her head on her front legs, shifting around to get the most comfort possible, while Soot and Rinda went further into the cave. Despite the light, heat, and general distraction of the environment, she found herself slipping off remarkably quickly. Exhaustion took its toll, and within a few minutes she was fast asleep.

[Ravian]

"Hold on a second..." Soot said as she looked around the cavern with her eyes and light. She was no expert in caves but there was something odd about this place.

Spoiler

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Mind 4 + Light 2 + Wary 1 = +7
(1d20+7)[17]
extra roll
(1d20+7)[19]

[Balmas]

Ugh… The light of the sunset filtered through the canyon, casting its gentle glow on everything it touched; it oozed between the crevices, trickled over the rocks, and finished its trip by shining at just the right angle to get right in Dive Bomb's eyes.

Throwing a wing over his eyes was futile; the light seeped through everything, insisting on an immediate return to wakefulness. He coughed, rolling over and staring at the pockmarked ceiling above. My brain feels like… What was the proper metaphor? It should probably be something involving ice picks, blenders, and the interaction between the two.

His wings didn't seem much better; they felt cramped, and the left one itched like he'd rolled in a pile of sawdust. Can't really afford the privacy necessary to preen, either.

Around him, he could hear the sounds of ponies getting ready. The sound of buckles clicking was probably indicative of Grease Spot getting into her harness, while the gentle, tenor snores echoing from further in was probably "Hiya!"

Gulping, the pegasus scrambled back from the grey muzzle that had invaded his thoughts. With a few feet between the two, his thoughts began to congeal into something besides "fly away." "Good morning, Iggy," he sighed.

In the corner of his eye, Soot prodded at Crown, cutting off the snoring. And back to Iggy, who was… waiting for something? He stared uncertainly at the smiling unicorn, slightly disconcerted.

Kay… he wanted something maybe? Moving… kay, and he's smiling now! Okay, let's get going then? Iggy smiled as Dive Bomb strapped himself into the harness, and the seven of them strode off into the night.

[BlasTech]

"Hold on a second..." Soot said as she looked around the cavern with her eyes and light. She was no expert in caves but there was something odd about this place.

Spoiler

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Mind 4 + Light 2 + Wary 1 = +7
[roll0]
extra roll
[roll1]

It took Soot a few moments to realise what was bugging her. It was something that wasn't immediately noticeable, especially given how she was looking at only part of the room at time.

It was the 'slug trails'. Most of them criss-crossed the rock in unidentifiable patterns, broken up only be the occasional gap or small hole. There were some, however, of a different texture.

They looked like they had once been carved, but given how they were now nearly worn smooth, it was clear that they had been put up a long time ago. Small symbols, in what she guessed had once been a ring near the back of the cave. She couldn't make out all of them, partly due to their age and partly due to the fact that some of the holes in the wall were right where a symbol ought to have been.

Pressing her nose up against them was the only way to get a feeling for what they were. Reading clockwise; there was a sun, then two more that she couldn't decipher, a horseshoe, a claw, a talon and another blank.

The second thing she noticed, which was a little bit more obvious than the first, was that there was something that had been carved much more recently. Done in a sharp, angular style, it contrasted to the other carvings and the smooth, winding slug-trails.

There it read: "GB. Eng 4 T. 2MW. 7621"

[Ravian]

"Come take a look at this." Soot gestures to Rinda towards the markings she had discovered. "Someone's been here before us, some more recently then others." she brought her mote closer to the carvings "Can you make heads or tails of this?" she asked Rinda.

[BlasTech]

With an obvious air of reluctance, the griffoness walked over and peered at the markings Soot described.

"I dunno" she replied, after glancing at it for a minute. "Code? Or maybe just shorthand for something. Either way, it's not anything I'm familiar with."

Glancing around, the griffoness fought back a yawn.

"Look, we done yet? Even if someone was here, they're probably long gone, just like everything else in this place." she groused. "Personally, I just wanna get back to my mat and get to sleep."

[One Tin Soldier]

A puff of acrid smoke jetted into Grease Spot's face, causing her to scrunch her nose and back away from the machine, dropping a sheet of metal on the floor. She idly waved a hoof through the air and surveyed the work she had cut out for her, now that she could see the interior. Behind the exterior plating was a set of gears, alternating between running and stopping while the machine went through its cycles. It was time to see if she could get the thing working properly once more.

The most obvious and attention-grabbing problem was a pair of gears that ground together noisily, scattering sparks and causing the oil to emit foul smoke. She touched a hoof to one, trying to gauge how it was set, only for a spark to fly onto her coat. She cursed and stamped on the ground, though the pain was actually fairly numb. It would be much easier to fix if the machine wasn't operating, but thanks to the circumstances that wasn't an option.

She looked over the rest of the panel, seeing if there were any other problems that needed to be fixed. Unfortunately, there was no shortage of them. One gear was isolated from the rest of its chain, too far from any motive gears to do more than sit completely still. Yet another was on the verge of breaking, with a visible crack that grew wider with each operational cycle. She gave it less than a couple minutes before it would fail spectacularly.

The engine coughed and sputtered, indicating that the whole thing might shut down before that had a chance to happen. It also gave her a small rush of panic. It had to keep running, no matter what. She needed to fix the gear system before the power ran out.

The easiest way to do that would be to replace the malfunctioning gears with ones that were properly fitted and whole. She opened up her toolbag, only to find that she had no such spares. In fact, they were practically empty, containing only three items. The first was a magic storage crystal, cracked down the center. Perhaps she could plug it in to the machine, giving her more time to work with. But with such a huge flaw, it could very well cause even more damage to the machine if it blew. The second item was a magnifying glass. Valuable, perhaps, if she needed to find fine cracks in the mechanisms. But the obvious ones were problem enough, and it was useless in that regard. Maybe it could be used to pry a gear out? Frustrated, she pushed it aside.

The third item, a small grease can, was much more obviously useful. She quickly brought it out and applied it to the two loudly protesting gears in the center. Instead of running smoothly, however, it only resulted in the largest puff of smoke yet, completely obscuring her vision.

Impossible. Failure was unacceptable, but she simply couldn't manage with the resources she had. How could she be expected to succeed under these conditions? How was this fair?

[TheAmishPirate]

The afternoon sun bathed the lush valley in liquid glory, turning its rivers to shimmering gold and its trees to patchwork shade. Fields of the finest flowers carpeted the land until they met a brilliant blue sky. Puffy clouds that looked thick enough to sleep on drifted lazily in a warm breeze.

All of it went ignored to the mocha colt in favor of the young filly nestled up beside him. Every brush of her coat, every little happy sigh she gave, every sight of her adorable little dimples sent electric joy coursing through him. Were he not already laying down, she would have brought him to his knees in an instant.

"Ah, Corky - wasn't it just so cute the way she said his name? - Ah reckon you'll never run out of private paintin' spots at this rate. Seems every time we track down a new 'un - angels themselves must speak in that drawl! - there's a dozen more y'just can't wait t'show me. Don't y'ever find it hard, gettin' so many places like this?"

Crown chuckled, dared to nuzzle her divine cheek, and whispered softly in her ear. "Ah, a terrible chore it has become! For once I beheld your beauty, every wonder of the world seemed dull and lifeless."

His flattery earned him a flick on the muzzle, his filly blushing hot through her already strawberry-red coat. "Y-you! You lil'...ooooh! Quit it!"

The lady was indeed pleased! Crown could not help himself but continue; "It is true! Your visage has ruined my mind's eye! Tainted it forever with perfection! And I, as a Cork, may tell no lies." He put a hoof over his chest and held his head high. "My word is accepted at most major banking institutions, I assure you."

She laughed away at his 'fancy-talk' and snuggled down into the crook of his neck, gracing him with the privileged to lay his own head upon her exquisite mane. "Oh Corky...Corky Corky Corky..." she sighed happily, before looking up at her colt with questioning eyes. "Y'know, what does it mean t'be a Cork?"

An...odd question for a time such as this. But! A Cork never left his Lady wanting. He stroked at his chin thoughtfully, as if he even needed to contemplate the answer. "To be a Cork, one must have Honesty in all one does. Honest actions, Honest intentions, Honest speech, a Cork lives a life open and true to all."

"For example," he smiled knowingly, leaning down to her ear again. "I will be open and true to you when I say that if you should grace my lips with your cheek, you shall make me the happiest stallion alive..."

She squirmed pleasantly, before turning herself around with a smirk. "Oh just quit yer yappin' you big idjiot an' come over here..."

Alas, right as the two lovers were moments away from mutual bliss, the world again melted away into pastel nothingness.

[Balmas]

The stars danced with Luna's moon, performing a sublime waltz across a midnight purple ballroom. Dive Bomb sighed in satisfaction, letting his mind wander out into the great expanse.

They'd made good time; the stars turned everything a gentle blue, illuminating obstacles and making travel much more pleasant. A shadow drifted over the stars, painting Rinda against the sky.

Ahead of him, Soot and Iggy clustered close to Grease and the ambassador. Dive Bomb could tell that they were conversing animatedly, but not much else.

Unfortunately.

"And furthermore, I'll have you know that a Cork is always honest!"

How many times had they rehashed this? Surely there had to be a limit to pride and how many times one can extoll a family virtue?

Dive Bomb groaned, trying to tune out the babble from behind him, instead focusing upwards. There was Taurus, and Capricorn, which meant that the Ursa Major was over there… Good, they were still heading west.

Yet… something was wrong. He scanned again, looking over the constellations, each in their turn. Everything was there.

Everything was there, which meant that there was no shadow blocking stars out from time to time.

Where was Rinda?

[Ravian]

Shorthand?... Oh she means shorthorn or shortmouth for non-unicorns. I suppose it could be that...but looking at it the best she could interpret was that the GB could stand for Goodbye. That led to some creepy connotations about this place, did somepony leave their final message here? Then there was the older carving. It reminded her of a clock face, maybe it was like the sundials at Manehatten central park? Right now though there was too much supposing for them to determine anything useful though.

"I guess we can," Soot said as she turned back to Rinda "I'd still like to know more about it, maybe the ambassador could take a look at it tonight?" she started back up towards the mouth of the cave, bringing her light close behind.

[BlasTech]

Rinda shrugged again as she followed behind Soot.

"Yeah, maybe. Unless the lazy bird's gone to sleep." she observed.

Contrary to narrative causality, the ambassador was still awake when they returned to the main campsite near the mouth of the cave. He'd found himself a comfortable patch of ground to lay down his tablecloth-turned-ground-sheet and was writing in his journal with a quill.

Rinda hovered around for a little bit longer, but if not stopped by anypony she would soon head back to her own patch of ground away from the others.

Iggy was out like a light, the unicorn guardpony had rolled on to his back, hooves sticking into the air as he snored away.

[One Tin Soldier]

The smoke began clearing away once more, revealing the still-broken machinery. Grease watched the newly-greased gears for a few moments, gauging just how much they were still working. They didn't seem to be sparking any more, and the grinding was not quite as loud, but if anything they were emitting more smoke than before. She slowly applied more grease to them, but it didn't seem to be making a big difference.

She backed away once more, putting the nearly empty grease can back in her saddlebags. It wouldn't be doing any more good at the moment. In the meantime, she was going to see what she could do about some of the other gears in the system. She looked back and forth between the isolated gear and the nearly broken one. Without any spares, she had no way of bridging the gap, but perhaps she could use it to replace the other. She just had to figure out how to pry the things off without any proper tools. She tried using the edge of her hoof, but without any success. Several different attempted angles later, the most she could do was jiggle it.

Well, there was nothing else for it. If she was careful, she probably wouldn't break the magnifying glass while using it to pry the gear loose. She retrieved it from her saddlebags and brought it to bear. She used her hoof to jiggle the gear a little bit looser, just enough to fit the edge of the magnifying glass underneath. Just as she was about to try giving it a gentle lift, the engine began to cough and sputter.

No! I need more time! She dropped the glass, leaving it stuck under the isolated gear, running over to the fuel gauge. Sure enough, it was practically empty. She looked frantically around her surroundings, hoping to see another power source, but there were only lusterless, empty jewels. She had no choice but to try plugging in the cracked power gem. She carefully approached the socket, gem in mouth and heart pounding. Gingerly, she lowered it in. As soon as it reached both contacts, she leapt back and covered her head. If her fears came true, she didn't want to be too close to the machine, or else some very nasty things might happen.

[Ravian]

"Hey ambassador, Rinda and I found something carved in the back of the cave, it looks kind of like a clock face with pictures on it. You want to take a look?" Soot asked while she was certainly tired, she disliked leaving something till evening what could be done now, especially if Iggy was wrong and there were some rocks that did weird stuff around here, then she didn't want to be sleeping in front of one.

[Balmas]

Where was she? Could she have flown ahead? Griffons didn't just disappear, that he knew of... He moved to spread his wings, but the harness didn't let him move! What was going on?

He turned, and the breath died in his throat. While he'd been scanning for Rinda, the other four had drawn away from him, into the mess of black ... Those were bones. Giant rib cages littered the sand, like discarded toys on a giant's playroom floor.

And now, they were slowly oozing, crawling, seething into something else. Black bones melted and slithered, gathered into an amorpheous mass that rose up against the sky. Wings spread out against the sky, blocking the stars until the only light were two golden slits that glared down on the party.

He shouted, but the night swallowed his cries. He lunged, but the stretcher and the cold behind him held him back. No matter what he did, the party remained ignorant of the danger that threatened.

With a terrifying stillness, a gash opened in the darkness, a gaping portal to a hellish green realm. The green flame lashed out, melting the sand, consuming his friends. The horror seemed to last for hours, but could have been mere seconds.

His friends were gone. All he had left was Crown, a stretcher, and the Compendium.

[BlasTech]

The ambassador paused in his writing, looking up at Soot as she approached. A flicker of something crossed his face, but it was soon wiped away by a patient smile and his trademark ambassadorial good cheer.

"You say you found a 'a clock face with pictures'?" The ambassador asked, his tone subtly replacing the need for air quotes. "Well, that does sound fascinating, little filly. I shall be certain to have a look come morning."

"But for now, ones such as myself need their rest, it has been a very long day."

It took Soot a moment to process the relatively brusque dismissal, mostly because she was too busy trying to remember where she'd last seen that expression before. After a second, she had it; the look on the elder griffon's face, she'd seen it in Canterlot countless times - whenever she'd crossed paths with one of the rich, fancy Canterlotian nobility. It was the look one gave the bottom of their hoof whenever they stepped in something unpleasant. A mix of disgust at the object itself and frustration at the bother of having to clean if off.

In short, it had been contempt.

[Ahh the Low Class flaw, was wondering when it would turn up ... You can push him to a heart check on this if you want, but I'm going to need to hear your argument first before I can assign a DC.]

[Ravian]

Oh so it was going to be like that was it? Well Soot knew how to deal with these sorts of things, if they don't want to get involved, give them a reason to.

Soot shrugged and turned away "Hmmph, suit yerself gramps, I just thought you might want a look is all. It reminded me of this exhibit I saw at this museum one time, some paleo-pony era whatchamacallit. Really old looking, thought it might be worth something. It's no big though, maybe I could carve off a piece, might make a cool souveneir to bring home."

She began to trot back towards the carving, rooting through her bag before retrieving the chisel in her lockpicking tools. She made sure the ambassador got a good long look at the implement of artifact destruction.

She paused suddenly as though a thought had struck her "Hope it doesn't fall apart though, it looked pretty fragile, and scratching my signature in it probably didn't do it any favors..."

[BlasTech]

"If that is your wish, miss Soot." replied the Ambassador, regarding the unicorn with a cool gaze.

[DC20 heart check, -2 penalty for calling him 'Gramps'. Wasn't the best argument you could've made there ]

[Ravian]

Soot scowled "Ok fine that was a bluff, but still I'm not making this thing up. It looks really old and it's a round carving with symbols along the edges. I just want to make sure it's not gonna explode when the sun hits it or something, ok?"

Spoiler

Show

Worth a shot even if it would take a 19 or higher
Heart 3 - Snark 2 = +1
(1d20+1)[14]

(well there goes my hopes that the dice gods would listen to reverse psychology)

[BlasTech]

"Even if this clock exists, I'm certain it will keep till morning. Good night Miss Soot." replied the ambassador.

[Ravian]

"Well fine, don't believe me, see if I care!" Soot almost shouted. She angrily grabbed up her blanket rolls and laid them down as far away from the old griffon and the back wall as she could. Eventually her tiredness overwhelmed her bitterness and she drifted to sleep.

[Ravian]

As Soot settled fitfully into sleep, the stone clock face continued to haunt her dreams, each of the symbols illuminating in a clockwise fashion as she heard the sounds of the argument from before.

Sun.

"How did the sled fall?"

Unknown.

"Have you anything to say for yourself, Mister Bomb?"

Unknown.

"I'm sorry, that must have been too subtle to penetrate your delicate skull."

Horseshoe.

"I was not arguing; I was scolding,"

Claw.

"In other words, the opposite of you."

Talon.

"...then you will have the spine to say it straight and clean to my face!!!"

Blank.

"Prove. Me. Wrong."

But just as it looks like sun will illuminate and start the cycle anew the whole thing fades from the dream. Half-formed images reign until something more familiar began to form in her mind.

[Balmas]

Gone.

Everything. Everyone. Just... gone. His friends, the people who depended on him... He was achingly, painfully aware of the gaping hole in his chest, like someone had grabbed his heart and started to rip off chunks.

"It's a good thing we were a bit slower," came the voice of Cork from behind.

If he'd only been a bit faster, done a bit more, then he could have... could have... He could have died just like them. "I could have saved them. Somehow."

"You can't save everyone," said the voice, overlaid with strange timbres. "I've told you that before."

Dive Bomb growled, stalking out of the sled's harness. "Yeah, and I've told you that you're wrong. Not like you listen; after all, who would dare argue with the mighty Thunderhead?"

"Nopony, but only because they know that I'm right," chuckled the yellow pegasus, as he shucked off his own sled harness. His voice oozed confidence, and the blue eyes under that blue mop--so similar to Dive Bomb's-- pierced his son. "And I'd argue that the evidence supports me."

"...Shut up."

"After all, you didn't save Nimble Bolt."

"Shut up."

"You're a failure, just like I said you would be. You should have just listened to me, stayed in Cloudsdale, and learned the family trade! If you had, you'd have been there for us! You'd have been there for him!"

"Shut up!"

"You're not a doctor; you're a wannabe, pretending at helping ponies when all you do is drag them into danger! You let them get hurt! You ran away! You don't save ponies, and you never will! Your friends are dead because of you!"

With an inarticulate cry of rage, Dive Bomb spun once, delivering a crushing buck to the mocking voice. "I said, shut up!" he panted, turning back on his...

Oh, goddesses no.

His wings thrummed, pushing to get him far away. Directions didn't matter, distance didn't matter; the only important thing was to get as far away from that memory. Anywhere but next to that crumpled, burgundy colt's body.

[TheAmishPirate]

"Well? I asked you a question, Crown."

The mocha colt sweated in his freshly-pressed suit. Pop's office always held a certain grandeur to it; a glory not normally reserved for a humble Earth Pony. The room grew large around him, stretching off into the depths of his sight and imagination. The ceilings hung so high that weather-teams must be needed to inspect them for clouds every once in a while. Even his desk - a simple, mahogany affair strewn with papers, family photos, and bottles - loomed over poor Crown. He tugged at his collar, before clearing his throat to respond, "W-well, Pop sir, I imagine it is the workers."

"Workers, eh?" His father's booming voice shook him to his very core. "Tell me then; how our your workers failing at the jobs you hoof-picked for them?"

"They...they are not of the highest quality, sir." He danced about his words, flitting in-between surety and caution. "I assign them to a spot-on job, but it may be that they just...they just don't wish to work, sir!"

Pop Cork chuckled, deep and rumbling. The elder stallion held up one of their signature Cork brand bottles and beheld it idly. Crown saw both father and son in the glass, though greatly distorted. Was it his head atop his father's body? Were those his legs keeping Pop aloft?

"Crown....Crown my boy..." The half-pony shook its head wistfully, their mouths moving and shifting out syllables. "Tell me; what does it mean to be a Cork?"

So many answers. So many facets. How could he choose just one?

"To be a Cork..." He started in slowly. "One must lead their fellow pony. Direct them in the way they ought to go. Show them the errors of their ways, and do not begrudge them time to change. A Cork can achieve anything with anypony, provided his subordinates are able and willing."

The bottle-face smiled, stretching its waving teeth between the horizons of the glass. "That is what you will do, my son."

A jet of inky-black soda erupted from the mouth of the bottle with a sound like rolling thunder. Crown staggered to the floor, his ears and heart reeling as a voice echoed through the din:

"It is what you must do..."

[Ravian]

The first thing Soot noticed was the noise.

Dogs barking, carts and carriages down paved roads, the indistinct shouting of a pony from far-off, for other ponies these sounds generally meant a cacophony but to Soot they meant something much more comforting.

Manehatten.

Home.

More particularly her home, an old tenement that nopony had owned for years and whose demolition notice had been "lost" a few years ago and never bothered to be replaced.

Once again it wasn't much but the sparse strands of tinsel and stunted little hearth's warming tree that decorated it marked it as something more beautiful than Canterlot Castle for Soot and her family.

Soot stared at the scene for a few moments before she heard familiar voices upstairs. Tentatively she followed them before coming up to where the assorted cots, mattresses, and hammocks marked the space as the bedroom.

"When will Soot be back, Drizzle?" a young voice Soot knew to be Scamp's asked.

She turned and saw Drizzle tucking the younger pegasus into bed.
Drizzle began to say something before he appeared to change his mind.
"I don't know," he sighed "but we'll keep looking tomorrow, I promise."

Soot could see Scamp's eyes begin to tear up as he asked "Did she leave us? Like everypony else?"

No! Soot began to shout, when the scene around her began to distort around her. She watched the world seem to stretch, like a bubble ready to burst.

Rather than risk losing it completely, she watched as Drizzle quickly responded to Scamp's fears. "No, no no no, you shouldn't ever think that, Scamp. And know that wherever Soot is, she loves you, and all of us, more than anything in the world."

He gave Scamp a kiss tonight and slowly began to make his way down the stairs. Staring through Soot as though she was using her magic.

Soot reached out as he passed her but the scenes wavering made her stop again. She looked at each of the foals asleep, Scamp tossing and turning on his mattress, Olive and Penny in their hammocks, and Whisper curled in on himself in his cot, before finally following Drizzle down the stairs.

She found him in their makeshift kitchen, cleaning up a few of the plates from dinner and slowly approached him until she was right next to his ear.

Taking a final look at her home she whispered in Drizzle's ear More than anything...

As the scene shook and distorted she could see Drizzle's eyes widen as he said "Soot?"

And then it was all gone.

[Balmas]

"How can this be happening?" gasped the pegasus as the world flew by beneath him. His wings ached, his lungs burned, and still he couldn't escape.

A black shadow oozed behind him to fill the sky. It defied his efforts to figure out what it was, changing each time he looked back; now it was his father, now it was a skull, now it was the face of one of his friends. Now Nimble's disappointed gaze floated to the top. Now...

Wait.

His flight slowed, before a tendril of black licked at his hooves and reminded why he fled. However, the sight of Vereia calmly riding the top of the wave was more than a little disconcerting.

"Things will be alright," wafted her voice over the roar of the black nothingness."

"How can you say that?" Faster. Need to go faster. Can't go back.

"I can't help you," she said gently, riding on what was now a pale pony skull. "There are other people who need me more than you do. You understand, don't you? The good of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"Please!"

"You'll be alright!" With a beat of her wings, she was at his side, smiling sadly. With a second, she was gone, leaving him absolutely alone, facing...

Facing...

A glob of black shot out, clinging to one of his wings, and he lurched to the side. More shot out, pinning the other wing and sending him into a spiral. He stared out, tracing the dot on the horizon that was his friend.

Then the darkness swallowed him.

[One Tin Soldier]

Nothing happened. She peeked over her forelegs; the machine was still running, and she had more time to work with. She looked back over to the gear panel, now more confident that things were going to go her way. She pulled out the magnifying glass, preparing to pry off the damaged gear so it could be moved out of harm's way.

Just in time for it to shatter with an earsplitting crack.

Grease fell backward, mostly out of instinct. Smoke billowed out of the machine, thick and acrid, as the mechanisms inside ground to a halt. Within moments, the only motion in the room was one half of the damaged gear, spinning on the floor.

All she could do was stare. This wasn't possible. The machine had to keep running. If it stopped, then she and the others couldn't get home, and that was unacceptable.

Except it had stopped. Completely and catastrophically. She had utterly failed them, and now they wouldn't ever be getting home. Panic, fear, and despair welled up inside of her. She would never see Brush Stroke or her parents ever again. She would never get to explain what happened. She wouldn't get to do all the things she wanted to get done.

And worse, none of her companions would get home either. They would all blame her, and rightfully so. It was her duty to see them home safe. Failure. Nothing but failure.

She rolled over, cradling her head, covering herself with the blanket. She didn't want anyone else to see just how much she had failed. She would rather just lie there on the ground in shame.

She rolled onto something hard and pokey, causing her to open her eyes blearily. After what felt like several minutes' confusion, she identified her surroundings. She was in the cave, and she had gotten tangled up in the tablecloth she was using as a bed. The sense of overwhelming despair from her dream still lingered in her chest, though now that she could think straight it began to abate. She hadn't failed yet, merely suffered a few setbacks. Somewhat serious setbacks, as her dry mouth reminded her, but not insurmountable.

Perhaps writing down her thoughts would help, and then she could get back to sleep, for a while at least.

[TheAmishPirate]

Lost.

Crown stumbled over a stray rock in the inky darkness. How long had he wandered these caves alone? How long had it been since he'd seen even the faintest glimmer of light? The faintest hope of escape? If only he had a guide, or even a wall to run his weary, bruised hoof across. Anything to tell him that he was not merely stumbling in circles, lost and alone.

"Is there anypony out there? Will nopony aid me?" He cried into the darkness forlornly. Not even an echo greeted his ears. Oh, how tempting it would be to lie upon the stony floor, and simply sleep away his troubles, his life. But alas, his soul would not stand for such a whimpering end. What would his sweetie say? What would Pop say? Would they applaud his sensibility in admitting defeat? No. They would wish he fought to the last, until his hooves fell to pieces alongside his shattered mind. What an end to befall a pony of his stature! And he so wished to see his sweetie one last time...

"So, tell me, little Crown. What does it mean to be a Cork?"

An unfamiliar, growling voice shocked him out of his despair. His head whipped about, but only the uniform, choking darkness greeted him. "Who is there? Show yourself!"

The darkness heeded not his demands, and he was unsure whether to be indignant or grateful for that. A lump formed in his throat, as he found himself pondering the question. "To...be a Cork is a great many things," he started, slow and unsteady. "After all, a Cork can be a great many things; anything they truly set their mind to. But a Cork is more than a pony of limitless potential, it is a pony who Honestly believes in that potential in themselves and in others." The comfortable rhythm of his family idioms came back to him, and the colt stood tall against the dark. "What does it mean to be a Cork? To hold oneself to a higher standard, to show all ponykind how integrity in all aspects of life can take us to our true potential."

Silence.

"A hedge ... you do not know."

The creature gave out a rumble of displeasure at the uncertainty.

"Nothing is perfection, and you cannot pretend otherwise. Nor can true art demand attention. Reflect on your failings. Remember Integrity."

The darkness pressed in around him. Crown felt an ant, helpless beneath the glass of something far greater than he.

"Who are you?"

Light streamed through the cave, sending him staggering back into the waking world.

[BlasTech]

The sun set on the third day, but nopony really noticed.

The trails and trials of the last two days had taken a significant toll on the ponies. Mentally and physically, they were all nearing exhaustion after walking nearly forty miles across a harsh and unhospitable desert.

They'd fought bandits and spoken to memories of a time long ago, but these events were proving poor distractions from the creeping suspicion that they would never see their homes, their families again. It was a thought that had refused to go away with the setting sun, lurking in the deeper parts of their subconsious minds - conjuring demons and fears to plague their dreams.

As their restless sleep came to an end, the first thing many noticed was how dry everything was. The air, the ground, their mouth, their lips. Those who had drunk the night before found it an unpleasant, but tolerable experience; moisture would soon reappear as they licked their lips and began moving about.

For those who hadn't, the dryness would remain, coupled with the beginnings of a headache that underscored a simple fact - Ponies need water to live.

The second thing most would notice is that the sun had set. Thanks to the shadecloth over the entrance, the cave itself was nearly pitch black - only the barest trickle of moonlight was able to filter in.

The third thing they would notice, was the sound of rustling that came from where they'd had the food-sled stored. It was not a loud noise, but it was persistent - it was the sound of plastics crackling and shuffling about.