Scenic Detrot Welcomes You, or: Send in the Academics!

[Tweed-Patches]

Lately our gallant Guard, lead by the our indefatigable Princess of the Night, fought a glorious action at Detrot against the numberless hoards of the Drakul the Blood Pony (of infamous memory). With Drakul laid low, and his forces scattered, let us rejoice in the endeavor of our loyal guard, and give thanks that such ponies stand ready to do violence on our behalf, so that we may continue to sleep peacefully in our beds.

But this was not the end; Drakul's fall has brought new developments. The Blood Pony was rumored to be possessed of a vast store of ancient artifacts, manuscripts, and other mystic items - items of incalculable worth to the philosophic mind, as well as items too dangerous to be left unaccounted for. And so Luna in her wisdom commissioned, and endowed, an expedition of scholars to locate, and secure these items so that they may be studied and used for the betterment of society, rather than it's detriment or failing that, that they may be rendered harmless.

This is the story of that band of scholars.

[Tweed-Patches]

Detrot

There is a place of horror and woe, a stinking swamp polluted physically by millenia of death and psychically by millenia of failure. That place is called Detrot. Once a century, some fool ponies get it in their head to try and build a city here, and little cottages rear up on stilts and shallow dikes allow for roads with the usual Equestrian pretty flowers and market stalls. Around this tiny isle of normality is the swamp, a mass of green slime and grey, dead trees, and acrid yellow fog. Oh, and watch out for zombies.

It's another beautiful evening in Detrot. Ages upon ages ago the skaldic poetry claims this was a choice garden spot - a shining city upon a hill beside a crystal pure river. Now, the heavy greenish fog mingles with the fetid smoke of the pyres, seeming to rise from the earth itself, like the blasted breath of a dying land. The fires themselves glow indistinctly through the miasma, distorted, casting crazed shadows, while the moon hangs full and heavy in the sky - a reminder of both the reason for this expedition, and the events that so lately took place here. It's here, at the cragged foot of an crumbling escarpment bordered by a reeking swamp that the column has stopped. Weeks of of study and planning have lead to this; the signs are vague, the clues few, but according the best knowledge of the cream of Equestrian scholarship, this is where the blood pony built his fortress. There is no towering citadel of obsidian, reared as an affront to the god(desse)s, no defiant architectural spire of spite, but rather (and fittingly), the literature speaks of a tomb carved to unknowable depths into the earth. A vast labyrinth of vermicular passages, carved from the living stone in a forgotten age. Here the intrepid party has been sent, and obedient to that law they have come, come to delve, discover, and catalogue the myriad forbidden mysteries that lie beneath the earth.

Tweed-Patches looks around, squinting through the murk, fetlock deep in the muck. He's silent for a long time before speaking slowly, "It's not too bad." He nudges a skull out of the way, and dips his head, squinting though his glasses at the spiky growth of yellowish grass that was uncovered, "I'm sure that there's enough nondescript florae here to keep a pony botanizing for a decade at least!" He sighs, wistful, "Alas!"

Marble just wants to go home. This is not the job for the Keeper of Artifacts. This is the job for graduate students desperate for validation. He's been flying as much as he can to avoid touching the streets. Still, there appear to be tendrils of... something down there reaching up for him. "This is not a place for artifacts."

Tweed-Patches harumphs at Marble, "Tush! This is the ONLY place for artifacts! You've read the circular I put together? The library alone could advance the legitimate study of nigromancy exponentially! Not to mention the other artifacts - scrying dishes, seals, the raw materials for enchantments." He's getting more and more animated, his eyes alive with excitement as he bounces in place. Several of the grad students back away to avoid being splashed with mud, "It - it's boggling!"

The very earth answers, heaving and writhing as a little red-maned filly digs her way up out of the ground right in front of Tweed. She squints through glasses filmed with dirt, and spits and spits and spits. "PBBBBbbbbbBBBbbbbbt!" A lot of mud and saliva spray out of her mouth, along with a key made of black rock with little red ruby eyes. Standing up on her hind legs, she pulls a length of taffy out of her mane and rubs it vigorously over her tongue like a handkerchief. "That wapbbbth NOT caddy!" she whines, while the silver badge reading 'SECURITY' jingles on her necklace.

Dusk believes that is called the 'air' here that is bothering Mr. Marble. Dusk himself is watching from some old broken down chair next to a back entrance of a building, observing the other arriving ponies curiously. Dusk had heard of some interesting activity out this way, so felt he should wander around the old place. Nothing much really changes here, it appears. Ponies trying to build and repair, fighting against the rate of decay. Seems the decay slowly edges out over time.

This is precisely the job for the Keeper of Artifacts. There are Artifacts to be Kept! Isn't that basically the ENTIRE REALM of the Keeper of Artifacts? EB is, for his part, pretty jovial about the whole mission. Then again, he was also quite joyful about retrieving The Spider Orb when it rolled through Ponyville. He's an odd duck, that economist/finance minister/a bunch of other things nopony else wants to do. He lights aflame a tentacle circling around his torso (he didn't quite think that one through) and then wanders over next to Tweed, his mane aflame. Thankfully, Tweed's mudslinging (well, bouncing) manages to put out the flames before they do too great of harm. And the tidal wave of saliva that follows Twist's arrival really seals the deal, so to speak. Well, at least he's not in flames. Much. "I'd really say it's more 'captivating' than 'boggling', Doctor Patches," the economist and Tweed's erstwhile boss corrects him. "This may be a place for princessforsaken ruins teeming with necromancy, hopelessness, and a general sense of forlorn, but it is not a place for sloppy language!"

Marble tries to stand on a lamp post and shivers. "Why would *anypony* want to live in Detrot?" Marble says, then looks around, then fidgets and points a hoof at the graduate students. "Eh-- Start digging... somewhere. I'll start reading the dissertations of anyone who happens to find an artifact in this... this... place."

Tweed-Patches babbles a little more - golden corpus of the thrice great one this; mirror of Hippocrates that, possible finds of legendary statue - but the flow of drivle comes to an abrupt halt as the earth bubbles and erupts in front of him. He takes a few steps back, his eyes wide at this new apparition, fumbling within his jacket for -- something or other, mostly succeeding only in spreading ooze over himself and his clothes. One of the grad students gives a sharp cry and passes clean out. As Twist manifests herself in full Tweed leans forward, incredulous, "I - I say!" He takes a few steps forward, tapping the filly on the nose with a hoof, making sure she's real, "That's a neat trick! Where'd you come from, my lass?" He seems completely deaf to EB. This is MUCH more interesting than his boss, even if that boss is on fire.

Twist answers, "Podyville." She spits at the ground a couple more times, and tries to wipe her glasses clean with the taffy. Now her glasses have fruit flavored red mud on the lenses. Sliding the glasses back on, she stuffs the taffy back in her bouncy mane and pulls out a map instead. Watery red eyes peer over the rim of her now useless glasses as she lays the map in the mud, pokes at it, and asks, "You loog lige derdpbbbth. Ab I in Detrot?"

Dusk keeps watching. And even though not that far off, he doesn't readily stand out. But he is rather curious as Twists arrives with quite unique way. He knows she's from Ponyville as well. But Dusk amuses himself pondering if Tweed might imagine this being some normal means of travel for Detroters, or if perhaps they've taken up living underground. He chuckles quietly until she reveals to him where she is from. But it was a fun thought. But more seriously, this does appear to be a place where different significant paths are coming together. He expects something rather interesting fairly soon.

EconomistBrony glances up from the pile of bones he was studying intensely. "Oh, are you thinking of finally serving on a dissertation committee, Dr. Memory?" Oh dear, he's gone full on academic mode. You know it's bad when he's calling his own son by his full title. He swivels to Tweed and his newfound discovery and perks up mightily! "Yes, indeed, little filly - welcome to the fine and noble city of Detrot! Population... ... what -is- the population?" he asks to nopony in particular. He's sure that at least one graduate student knows. A hoofful of his personal RAs start sweating and pull out census reports, swiftly poring through in order to find the correct answer and look at least somewhat good.

Marble watches the students scramble to answer the question. If memory serves Marble correctly the last three census takers to go to Detrot were eaten. Is that right? "Well, I *am* a dean. I can't always just give lectures, right?" Besides, Marble doesn't want to touch the street. SOMETHING has to motivate the students.

Tweed-Patches absently offers Twist a handkerchief (hoofkerchief?) from his top pocket, his eyes alighting on the little red and black item that fell from her mouth at the first, "And - and this little trinket? Did it come from Ponyville too?" He picks the item up, squinting at it over his glasses, "Pretty little thing, what? And a map?" He leans and squints at that, too, "Will wonders never cease?"

Twist accepts the kerchief and blows her nose on it. It goes on and on, with a sound like a foghorn, and when she drops the kerchief it is now indistinguishable from the filth and muck of the swamp. Sniffing delicately, she answers, "Daah, id'th frob dothe tunnelth dowd der. Id'pbbbth a prinpbbbthepbbbtheth owd luck I fowd you ad all."

Dusk hmmmms quite curiously at a number of things.. thinking about the hole and the key Tweed has picked up. Dusk stands there looking down the hole, "So where /does/ this go?", he asks, tilting his head this way and the other. Nopony had noticed him prior to his comment, but feels like he has been there. "Pass by anything interesting? I bet there is." He finally looks up as he glances at the others.

Well, then, it's the perfect task for his RAs! They'll scramble and scramble for an answer that doesn't exist then sit quietly in shame and existential agony until they realize EB's entirely forgotten that he even asked the question in the first place. "Precisely! Service is very important. Just make sure it doesn't interfere with your research," he adds with a tip of his hoof before glancing over to Twist and her little... relic? Artifact? ... He focuses on that, because he has absolutely no idea what Twist is saying. Something about tunnels. "So, did Princess Luna give us any specific directives for our quest?" he asks, again, to nopony in particular. A couple more GAs begin sobbing as they frantically go looking for a parchment with her wishes while another few have broken into a cold sweat as they frantically search for census records. He then turns to Dusk and perks! "Hello, Dusk! What brings you to bright and sunny Detrot?" a cloud of angry bats flies behind him, eclipsing the nonexistent sun.

Marble has to admit, he's enjoying wathcing the graduate students starting to panick. He debates possibly throwing them a bone. Marble the Merciful? ... Naaaaah! "Okay, alternative inquiry for the... Oh, what the heck, in my own field. How many Late Studies majors are there among you"

Tweed-Patches blinks a few times, only now just catching up, "Wait. I say, did you call us nerd..." He cuts himself off and puffs up a little, harumphing, "Well! Geeks perhaps but never - wait. Wait. Passage? Below?" He seems to be having the same brainwave that Dusk has. He points down at the earth below him, "Below, below? Like, right beneath our hooves?" He stands there gawping, his mouth hanging open for a long moment before he gets enough composure to stutter, "I-I say!" He takes a few steps back, dazzled, repeating, more excited now, "I say!" He turns and tosses the item towards Marble, "Dean Memory! I have an artifact for you to catalogue!" Then he whirls in the muck, the skirts of his coat flinging mud onto a couple of EB's students as the scurry past. He points at a random pony, "You there! Find a dry bit of ground! Get some tents set up!" He points to another, voice rising to a cressendo - not totally unlike the paradeground voice of a sergeant-major, "You! Put a kettle on!"

Twist's ears perk up! "A kettle? I'll boil upbbbth ub thome rood beer! There'pbbbth pbbbthapbbbthafrapbbbth all ob- one pbbbthec." Out of the hole she burrowed in the ground twists a skeletal pony head wrapped in oily yellow linen. It wheezes, and in the second its mouth is partly open Twist flicks her tail. A shiny little white mint flies out of the curly red mass, lands in the mummy's mouth, and with an audible *TING* and a gust of refreshing wintery air, the mummy's head freezes in a crust of ice. Twist gives it a kick, shattering the undead horror into tiny fragments that fall back into the whole. Then she snorts a couple of times, sneezes, and continues, "Pbbbthorry. He'pbbbth beed followig be for hourpbbbth."

Dusk glances over the other ponies he doesn't know, curious as they all run about trying to look information up. And are so many needed for this.. endeavor? Dusk hasn't really probed into what all they're looking for here, and he isn't too worried. He knows it's something interesting. And he loves surprises. Things can get a little boring when you know what's all coming. "Good evening, my friend! Oh, just felt like taking a walk out this way. Seemed to be the interesting place to be. Taking the students out on a field trip, I see?" Dusk is then trying to look back down the hole when the heavily bandaged fellow pokes out. Dusk starts to raise his hoof when Twist makes quite the.. sweet move. "Well hopefully he won't be following you anymore. Rootbeer sounds delightful. If possible to make anything sanitary here." With the temporary obstruction cleared, Dusk casts some light magic down the hole. "Any more of your friends we should expect, Miss Twist?"

EconomistBrony trots over with a kettle, which he places on a newly-kindled stove. The GAs actually know how to start fire! It's kind of impressive! ... Maybe they learned that because their wing in Canterlot University lost heating a year or two back and that was the only way to warm themselves through the long nighttime hours of work. Well, he chalks it up as a 'vital experiential life skill'! The accredidation team will love it. "I daresay, Dr. Patches, we are very much a combination of geeks and nerds, with approximately 35% overlap between those two sets," EB comments softly as he gets out his tea chest. And watches as Twist skillfully handles the skeletal pony seeking to destroy them all. ... Impressive. Luna really does know what she's doing.

Tweed-Patches looks back to Twist, twisting his mouth, trying to mime the sounds she's making in an attempt to wrap his mind around what she's saying, "Sassifra-AAASSSGREAT CELESTIA'S HOOVES!" He stumbles backwards in the mire as the mummy crawls out of the earth, tripping over what actually appears to be a ragged growth of the true sassafras, sending him sprawling backwards. He can only watch as the mummy is stuck down. He blinks a few times, eyes big as he exhales a quick sub-vocal thanks to Luna before speaking aloud, "N-no need for apologies -- Twist? It was Twist wasn't it?" He hauls himself to his hooves and makes an attempt to dust himself off that does nothing useful, "Good show, that - with the -" What shall he call it? "Bonbonomancy." Because that's totally a thing. He watches Dusk shine a light down the shaft, "Why - why don't we ward this area off, and leave it until we're more established, what?" He sniffs, imperiously, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I could do with a bathe and a bit of kip! C'mon then. Let's get to it!"