Post by Solar Solstice on Apr 12, 2014 19:49:36 GMT -5
Unfortunately, Nightshade wasn't able to be around for the Crimson Maiden TP for OOC reasons, so now I've made up some IC reasons :u
The first thing she had noted, when first she shifted into this land, was the amazing heat.
It was quite unlike anything she'd personally experienced, having to that point known only of curious tales and careful recollections lovingly passed down to her by her forebears. Ever-present moisture clung close to her dark fur, and already she could sense an uncomfortable stickiness in her joints as moist folds of skin rubbed against each other. She almost was surprised by how strange it was, and for a moment she considered divesting herself of her cloak. Yet there was a pleasantness despite it all, the sweet and exotic scent of flowers accented by the distant odour of coconuts, plants hitherto only seen in greenhouses and conservatories. Here, in the brusqueness of nature itself, the wild jungles of Eskellia, their essence could be fully expressed.
Nightshade could not tarry long to admire the scenery, however. Looming right ahead was a great fortress of rough stone, stark and grey and free of the moss that would often grown upon them in more temperate climates. Its single tower soared precariously above the escarpment that sloped sharply down into a riverbed to the north, and from her vantage she could see vast grasslands, dry and uninhabited save from some buffalo nomads, that faded quickly into sand and scorched rock. Beyond the horizon, she knew, were the southern limits of the Badlands and the outermost edges of the Realm she called her home.
Or was it truly her home? Nightshade had been given to such thoughts recently, but now, seeing for herself the land of her ancestors, they had stormed into the forefront of her attention. She looked up once again at the tower, admiring its exotic architecture, the thick angular walls as opposed to the elegant rounded ones back in Equestria. This was a redoubt designed to withstand a foe with access to weaponry beyond even the means of the Sun-lit Realm, though, it seems, in these days it faced the wrong way.
Not that the denizens were any less watchful for it, because within a few moments of her appearing a rude poking manifested on her right flank.
"Who are you?" said a gruff, low voice accompanying that dangerous sensation.
Nightshade stood absolutely still, and for an instant she just remained as such, slowly sweating, but she knew her purpose here exactly, and likewise what to say. "Happy are the flowers that flourish in the dark," she recited.
A pause. "For they shall prosper even when the days are grim. You're a little early, senorita."
"I like to be punctual," Nightshade stated simply, turning around to behold her would-be assailant. A stallion, of course, but a unicorn as well, bright russet with a mauve mane, and judging from the dark tendrils of magic holding up the spear near her flank... "A fellow Shadowwalker, I see. Appropriate."
"The Don is wise to keep us as company," he said. "Morning Light, at your service, and you, of course, are Equestria's agent?"
"Of sorts," Nightshade replied. "Nightshade des Trevalles, of Ponyville."
"Des Trevalles?" Morning Light uttered, familiarity dawning on his face. "So that's it, then. Well, we can't keep the Don waiting."
"Of course not," said Nightshade.
Both of them reached forward to touch hooves, and within seconds the jungle was gone, to be replaced by cold stone and the light of lanterns. It was a cozy, cool room lined with stacks of boxes and racks of weapons. An open door led to a larger room which seemed about the same, and beyond that another room that was even bigger and, as it was, quite occupied. "That tower you saw isn't the real hideout," Morning said, leading her that way. "This one is actually in the next tower over, the one near the waterfall. We've had to be a lot of careful ever since they...well, how much do you know?"
"I know that the Directory sent a Type D up north a few months ago," Nightshade said.
"There were a lot more that might've made it that far if it weren't for...well, the Don should explain that part." They passed into the room full of ponies, most of whom were dressed in the Royalist garb of the old Thunder Corps, or what was left of it, rather. They stared at Nightshade for a few seconds before quickly returning to their business, fixing their armor or polishing their weapons or having a last bite of hay rations before their next watch. Presently the two unicorns arrived at a simple wooden door on which a sign hung, reading simply: "Briefing Chamber". "He's one of the old guard, not like your mother, so be careful."
"That goes without saying," Nightshade answered, pushing the door open with her hooves; she could feel the anti-magic ward on the door. Inside was a long table stacked with many maps and messages, the scattered leavings of wars and rebellions planned and potential. At the far end was a large portrait on a male alicorn, his wispy cobalt-blue mane billowing dramatically much like that of his cousins up north. It was the Lightning Lord, late lamented ruler of Eskellia, and Nightshade knew his face at once; she had seen it before, in a memory. Her present concern right then, though, was the dour-looking unicorn stallion near the head of the table, his voluminous blue-grey mane in a tussle with several messages which he was perusing. "I told you already that we had no provisions for- ...oh, it's you," he said, giving Morning Light a sharp gaze before regarding Nightshade. "And this is the Agent, I presume?"
Morning bowed respectfully. "Yes, indeed. May I present Nightshade des Trevalles, of Equestria."
"Des Trevalles!" said the Don, with great drama, his hoof coming to graso his auburn-coloured chin. "Aurora's foal! No wonder the Directory can't get their act together in the north. Your mother is, aheh, doing well?"
"As much as she is able," Nightshade replied, pulling her hood back to reveal her face, "and just as well, for she seems to be on the view that your ability is comparable to your...sense of presence."
"That scurrilous nag! What a mare!" the Don snapped back, a mixture of ire and admiration manifesting. "My word, my word, let's see here...to business, then. You want to know everything, I guess?"
"As much as you are able," Nightshade answered, with a sort of diplomatic poetry. "In particular we are interested in the affairs of the Machinists and their...creations."
The Don sighed, leaning back into his chair and shoving the papers aside with a rough, swiping motion of the foreleg. "They're the hardest ones to figure out, those Machinists, what with the wards and traps around that damned factory of theirs, not to mention the excruciating measures they undertake to screen out possible infiltrators. You might as well try to sneak into that Canterlot of Celestia's, without the Changeling tomfoolery, that is."
"But you must have something," Nightshade said, stepping forward to take a seat right across from him. "Morning Light here says that you stopped most of the infiltrations going north."
"Ah, yes, we did, didn't we?" the Don mused, as if the whole thing was merely hypothetical. "Really, doing, that was Maizo's doing, as much as I hate to admit it. He and his Thornbreakers stopped the rapidlines leading out of the capital for a while and caused a delightful ruckus at the National Assembly. They almost declared a censure of the Public Safety Committee! It couldn't happen to a better lot of traitors."
"A good segueway into another inquiry," Nightshade said. "I hear word that the Directory is considering inviting General Darkstar to lead an expeditionary force."
The Don's row furrowed in dread. "I'm afraid you've heard right," he said anxiously. "Darkstar is popular with the rabble in the capital, so his return to the fore was only a matter of when. Right now he's pretty much an unknown quantity in terms of ambition, however. He could tow the Directory's line for the long term...or maybe not. Nopony knows at this point."
"It would best if we participated in the business of knowing," Nightshade said.
"Does that really need to be said?" said the Don impatiently. "Now, I tire of sitting in this blasted room. You wanted to review our fortifications too, didn't you?"
"It wasn't my first thought, no," Nightshade answered, "but certainly it would be prudent."
The whole affair took surprisingly long. By the end of the day Nightshade had reviewed the status of every Royalist stronghold in Eskellia, and many questions she had to leave for the morrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Over the course of several weeks she and the Don and his advisers like Morning Light discussed, made plans and predictions, and their collaboration bore much fruit, however tentative they seemed to be. Many more adventures were had beyond that, of course, but those are tales for another day.
Spring was in full bloom by the time Nightshade re-appeared in the cellar of Princess Platinum's old castle nestled within the palace grounds. Upon sighting her entire retinue gathered around she knew that something was wrong.
"Which is it?" she said quickly, but without panic or anxiety. She had expected something to pop up, somehow, while she was gone.
"Crimson," said a green-maned unistallion, the one named Dewshine. "But Princess Luna herself has already dealt with the matter. The full report is on your desk."
"I'll get to it," she answered tersely, but she'd do more than that. She liked to see the matter for herself...
The first thing she had noted, when first she shifted into this land, was the amazing heat.
It was quite unlike anything she'd personally experienced, having to that point known only of curious tales and careful recollections lovingly passed down to her by her forebears. Ever-present moisture clung close to her dark fur, and already she could sense an uncomfortable stickiness in her joints as moist folds of skin rubbed against each other. She almost was surprised by how strange it was, and for a moment she considered divesting herself of her cloak. Yet there was a pleasantness despite it all, the sweet and exotic scent of flowers accented by the distant odour of coconuts, plants hitherto only seen in greenhouses and conservatories. Here, in the brusqueness of nature itself, the wild jungles of Eskellia, their essence could be fully expressed.
Nightshade could not tarry long to admire the scenery, however. Looming right ahead was a great fortress of rough stone, stark and grey and free of the moss that would often grown upon them in more temperate climates. Its single tower soared precariously above the escarpment that sloped sharply down into a riverbed to the north, and from her vantage she could see vast grasslands, dry and uninhabited save from some buffalo nomads, that faded quickly into sand and scorched rock. Beyond the horizon, she knew, were the southern limits of the Badlands and the outermost edges of the Realm she called her home.
Or was it truly her home? Nightshade had been given to such thoughts recently, but now, seeing for herself the land of her ancestors, they had stormed into the forefront of her attention. She looked up once again at the tower, admiring its exotic architecture, the thick angular walls as opposed to the elegant rounded ones back in Equestria. This was a redoubt designed to withstand a foe with access to weaponry beyond even the means of the Sun-lit Realm, though, it seems, in these days it faced the wrong way.
Not that the denizens were any less watchful for it, because within a few moments of her appearing a rude poking manifested on her right flank.
"Who are you?" said a gruff, low voice accompanying that dangerous sensation.
Nightshade stood absolutely still, and for an instant she just remained as such, slowly sweating, but she knew her purpose here exactly, and likewise what to say. "Happy are the flowers that flourish in the dark," she recited.
A pause. "For they shall prosper even when the days are grim. You're a little early, senorita."
"I like to be punctual," Nightshade stated simply, turning around to behold her would-be assailant. A stallion, of course, but a unicorn as well, bright russet with a mauve mane, and judging from the dark tendrils of magic holding up the spear near her flank... "A fellow Shadowwalker, I see. Appropriate."
"The Don is wise to keep us as company," he said. "Morning Light, at your service, and you, of course, are Equestria's agent?"
"Of sorts," Nightshade replied. "Nightshade des Trevalles, of Ponyville."
"Des Trevalles?" Morning Light uttered, familiarity dawning on his face. "So that's it, then. Well, we can't keep the Don waiting."
"Of course not," said Nightshade.
Both of them reached forward to touch hooves, and within seconds the jungle was gone, to be replaced by cold stone and the light of lanterns. It was a cozy, cool room lined with stacks of boxes and racks of weapons. An open door led to a larger room which seemed about the same, and beyond that another room that was even bigger and, as it was, quite occupied. "That tower you saw isn't the real hideout," Morning said, leading her that way. "This one is actually in the next tower over, the one near the waterfall. We've had to be a lot of careful ever since they...well, how much do you know?"
"I know that the Directory sent a Type D up north a few months ago," Nightshade said.
"There were a lot more that might've made it that far if it weren't for...well, the Don should explain that part." They passed into the room full of ponies, most of whom were dressed in the Royalist garb of the old Thunder Corps, or what was left of it, rather. They stared at Nightshade for a few seconds before quickly returning to their business, fixing their armor or polishing their weapons or having a last bite of hay rations before their next watch. Presently the two unicorns arrived at a simple wooden door on which a sign hung, reading simply: "Briefing Chamber". "He's one of the old guard, not like your mother, so be careful."
"That goes without saying," Nightshade answered, pushing the door open with her hooves; she could feel the anti-magic ward on the door. Inside was a long table stacked with many maps and messages, the scattered leavings of wars and rebellions planned and potential. At the far end was a large portrait on a male alicorn, his wispy cobalt-blue mane billowing dramatically much like that of his cousins up north. It was the Lightning Lord, late lamented ruler of Eskellia, and Nightshade knew his face at once; she had seen it before, in a memory. Her present concern right then, though, was the dour-looking unicorn stallion near the head of the table, his voluminous blue-grey mane in a tussle with several messages which he was perusing. "I told you already that we had no provisions for- ...oh, it's you," he said, giving Morning Light a sharp gaze before regarding Nightshade. "And this is the Agent, I presume?"
Morning bowed respectfully. "Yes, indeed. May I present Nightshade des Trevalles, of Equestria."
"Des Trevalles!" said the Don, with great drama, his hoof coming to graso his auburn-coloured chin. "Aurora's foal! No wonder the Directory can't get their act together in the north. Your mother is, aheh, doing well?"
"As much as she is able," Nightshade replied, pulling her hood back to reveal her face, "and just as well, for she seems to be on the view that your ability is comparable to your...sense of presence."
"That scurrilous nag! What a mare!" the Don snapped back, a mixture of ire and admiration manifesting. "My word, my word, let's see here...to business, then. You want to know everything, I guess?"
"As much as you are able," Nightshade answered, with a sort of diplomatic poetry. "In particular we are interested in the affairs of the Machinists and their...creations."
The Don sighed, leaning back into his chair and shoving the papers aside with a rough, swiping motion of the foreleg. "They're the hardest ones to figure out, those Machinists, what with the wards and traps around that damned factory of theirs, not to mention the excruciating measures they undertake to screen out possible infiltrators. You might as well try to sneak into that Canterlot of Celestia's, without the Changeling tomfoolery, that is."
"But you must have something," Nightshade said, stepping forward to take a seat right across from him. "Morning Light here says that you stopped most of the infiltrations going north."
"Ah, yes, we did, didn't we?" the Don mused, as if the whole thing was merely hypothetical. "Really, doing, that was Maizo's doing, as much as I hate to admit it. He and his Thornbreakers stopped the rapidlines leading out of the capital for a while and caused a delightful ruckus at the National Assembly. They almost declared a censure of the Public Safety Committee! It couldn't happen to a better lot of traitors."
"A good segueway into another inquiry," Nightshade said. "I hear word that the Directory is considering inviting General Darkstar to lead an expeditionary force."
The Don's row furrowed in dread. "I'm afraid you've heard right," he said anxiously. "Darkstar is popular with the rabble in the capital, so his return to the fore was only a matter of when. Right now he's pretty much an unknown quantity in terms of ambition, however. He could tow the Directory's line for the long term...or maybe not. Nopony knows at this point."
"It would best if we participated in the business of knowing," Nightshade said.
"Does that really need to be said?" said the Don impatiently. "Now, I tire of sitting in this blasted room. You wanted to review our fortifications too, didn't you?"
"It wasn't my first thought, no," Nightshade answered, "but certainly it would be prudent."
The whole affair took surprisingly long. By the end of the day Nightshade had reviewed the status of every Royalist stronghold in Eskellia, and many questions she had to leave for the morrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Over the course of several weeks she and the Don and his advisers like Morning Light discussed, made plans and predictions, and their collaboration bore much fruit, however tentative they seemed to be. Many more adventures were had beyond that, of course, but those are tales for another day.
Spring was in full bloom by the time Nightshade re-appeared in the cellar of Princess Platinum's old castle nestled within the palace grounds. Upon sighting her entire retinue gathered around she knew that something was wrong.
"Which is it?" she said quickly, but without panic or anxiety. She had expected something to pop up, somehow, while she was gone.
"Crimson," said a green-maned unistallion, the one named Dewshine. "But Princess Luna herself has already dealt with the matter. The full report is on your desk."
"I'll get to it," she answered tersely, but she'd do more than that. She liked to see the matter for herself...