Pain flooded her senses as she gave away the first signs of waking up. She opened her eyes but immediately closed them as the light was too bright, she covered her eyes with a hoof to further protect her eyes.

"You know, that is not the best way to wake up, you should be happy the sun has decided to rise for this forsaken land, my dear equine friend." she heard a voice nearby, it sounded old and experienced, wise and commanding.

She shot up, forcing her eyes to open and look for the creature that spoke. She noticed she was near some sorts of ruins, overgrown with trees and grass, everything broken. She was on a stone bench around a weird bonfire, and on another bench were sitting two creatures, both looking at her.

She gulped, scared of these weird beings, but then she remembered the Zecora incident, and ignored the fact that this was a whole other kind of creatures, and sat on the bench, looking at the weird creatures. They were visibly bipedal, with no tail visible, they could be comparable to a minotaur, but with less muscles (they were taller, though!).

On top of their heads were what she could call a mane. They both wore clothing, one had a chainmail of sorts, holding a shield and a sword, and the other was wearing robes, a hat and had a staff at his side.

"I'm sorry, who and... what are you?" she asked cautiously, getting up.

"I am Master Logan, and my friend here? We simply call him Crest, and for what we are, or rather, were, are humans." he said as he gestured to himself and then to his friend, to gave a small smile and a little wave with his hand holding the sword.

"As for your probably next question, we WERE humans, but now we are known as the cursed ones, or simply the undead." he said as she took a step back.

"U-undead? Like, some kind of a zombie?" she asked, visibly frightened.

"We are not exactly walking corpses as you said, not unless we die, then we do come back as corpses." he said, carefully choosing his next words.

"Oh, and... if I may ask, what are you a master of? Is your title simply decorative?" she asked, curious, and still a little scared, his answer did not really tell her much except for the fact that they weren't mindless zombies, like those in one of Spike's comics, what was it's name? The Trotting Dead?

"Now, let's not go that far, we still haven't learned your name and race, lady!" said Logan's friend, Crest, as he pointed to her. His voice was not as old and weary as Logan's, but still tired, he looked very old with greying hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude of me, I am Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria, and I'm a pony." she said pointing to herself.

"Now, I am a master of magic and sorceries of all kinds! From Soul Arrows, through Magic Weapons to Fall Control! Crest here is a knight specialized in close combat, but I've learned he can use throwing knives good!" he said, pulling out his staff that was hanging limply at his side.

"Let me demonstrate." he said, standing up and pointing the staff at a nearby tree.

A soft, blue light started getting brighter and brighter at the tip of the staff until it released and shot out, then it impacted with the tree, shattering it to pieces, half of the tree falling off a cliff.

"So, this acts just like a normal magic bolt?" she asked herself.

"Now, may I guess that horn isn't there for show, and that you can cast magic?" he asked sitting down.

"Oh yes, I am a Princess of Magic after all! I can manipulate the weather, gravity, shoot magic bolts, turn invinsible, teleport and many more!" she exclaimed looking at the broken tree. "Let me demonstrate" she said.

She focused and a light, lavender hue surrounded her horn, and the tree was engulfed in the glow, suddenly, as if replaying a video, splinters and parts of the tree came flying from the direction of the tree and forming itself, making it look like the tree wasn't even harmed a minute ago.

Even the leaves were left unscathed!

"Oh my!" shouted Crest, as he stood up and ran to the tree. "Your Soul Arrows got nothing on this little Princess here!"

"Hmm... very impressive! May I guess that your horn acts as a catalyst for your spells? It seems to be made out of some special material!" he said, curious, he got closer to Twilight, and asked.

"May I?" he asked, pointing to her horn.

"Not really, horns are really sensitive, and when broken may cause huge mental damage." she said, backing away a little.

"My deepest apologies, I mean no harm." he said, as he glanced over to Crest, who was still fascinating over the tree.

Suddenly, they heard sounds of clanking of metal.

"Hmm... that must be Tarkus." said Logan, as he sat on the bench.

"Master Logan! I have found another of these weird equines!" they heard someone shout in the distance.

"And my student, Griggs, I've told them to travel together, Tarkus is in very heavy armor, so he is protecting Griggs while being covered from sorceries, pyromancies and other ranged attacks, a very good tacting, me and all of my friends have been using it, you just have to meet everyone!" Logan said.

"I wonder who your friends found, and I hope to meet every one of them! Also, your tactics are very good, but my country's armies had squads of five, two close combat, one ranged and one magic-using pony, and a medic." Twilight said, excited to see someone from Equestria in this land.

After all, she will need all the help she can get.

Knight Lautrec of Carim hated Patches.

Knight Patches the Hyena of whereever-he-lived hated Lautrec.

Notice the past tense.

They were forced to work together and gained an original bond. Lautrec liked Patches' sense of humor and psychopathic tendencies, and Patches was amused by Lautrec's sour mood and, here is what made them bond, psychopathic tendencies! (1)

A weird friendship, but they didn't like the others, they were either too positive about life, or too quiet for their liking, so they even sometimes outright ignored their friends pleas and went on their merry way, making their friends worry for them, and their sanity.

Everyone knows that the further you get from people, the bigger the chances of losing your sanity and going hollow.

But misery loves company.

They both knew that if they didn't take a liking to each other they would go hollow.

They learned lately that they would go insane and hollow if they wouldn't have met that damn pony.

And boy, did that pony not want to leave their side!

They were busy looting the Catacombs, all this loot! They just found a weapon made COMPLETELY out of gold! Sure, it was weak, but some undead were still buying gold for souls, just to keep being classy.

Patches once met a merchant who traded gold for humanity, he proceeded to stab the merchant steal his TWENTY twin humanities! Who carries that many nowadays when Patches and Lautrec are running around, murdering everything rich and/or hollow.

They acquired the Dark Hand from a stray Darkwraith, who they killed and made hollow with just a little bit too much pleasure. They then just took his ten humanity which he probably got from invasions, and the mentioned Dark Hand.

The Dark Hand worked as a shield made out of dark magic, and a weapon that sucked out humanity. It was very effective at sucking out humanity.

They learned that out from a stray firekeeper, from who they got out about fifty humanity each, and the more humanity you have the more resistant to damage you become.

Patches was hit by a giant skeleton and didn't even break a rib! Lautrec "fell" into the hole in the Catacombs, and he survived without even a single bruise.

He then murdered Patches and took his humanity.

Everyone knew it was Patches who pushed him off.

Granted, Patches came back at the bonfire, but he had no humanity left except for one sprite. It was funny for Lautrec and Patches, but no one else laughed, not Logan, not Tarkus, not Siegmeier, not Crest, and not even Solaire who was known to laugh at weird things.

Then they met the damn pony in the Catacombs.

---

"Whining? You want to hear my whining? I am simply complaining about the state of this place! What is this? This is worse than the Diamond Dogs' tunnels, everything smells of decay and death! And don't even start with me on the skeletons! Why aren't they dead?! I MUST get out of this place! Please take me with you!" 'complained' the pony.

Rarity, was her name, Patches could recall.

It was a completely white pony, with a beatiful, purple mane and tail.

They've seen a lot, but they did NOT see a talking unicorn yet. So it was bit of a surprise.

And, above all, why is a unicorn in the DAMN Catacombs?!

Those and more questions were flying through Patches' head.

Meanwhile Lautrec was busy talking to the pony.

"There is NO way out of here! You broke the only ladder and we only have one homeward bone! We either find two more homeward bones or we're boned!" shouted Lautrec, frustrated at the pony, at Patches and at himself.

"Hey, I got an idea!" shouted Patches, gaining Lautrec's and Rarity's attention.

"Oh Gods above, Patches, what crazy idea have you got now?" asked Lautrec, grabbing his head.

Patches was known for good and crazy ideas. That was the thing that made Patches useful, the was thinking outside the box, his ideas sounded crazy, and bad, but in reality they were good and... still crazy, but that's what Patches was.

Crazy.

No, Gods forbid, not insane, insane means hollow.

"Pony, Rarity, this here is a homeward bone. Use this to go back to the surface and contact out friends, tell them that Patches and Lautrec need their help. If they hesitate, you say 'tons of humanity'" he said, holding out a bone. A very white bone that had a nice aura of... home around it.

"What? A bone? How am I supposed to get to the surface? I want to get to the surface, not play games!" she said, and as she said 'get to the surface' she stopped talking and the homeward bone started glowing.

"Remember! Tons of humanity, talk to a dude in a hat!" she heard the both of them shout.

"Great, what now?" said Lautrec, as Rarity disappeared.

"Now we play the waiting game. Want to throw someone down the pit? I heard there's a cleric party coming down right about now." said Patches, as they both grinned.

"After all, we hate clerics!" they both said, going towards the hole.

Disclaimer:

My Little Pony belongs to Hasbro

All characters belong to their companies.

It was cold. Unusually cold for this damn Asylum.

Is this what going hollow is like? I should be hollow, after all, fifteen years with no humanity... most undead go hollow after three months without humanity. Am I unable to go hollow? Do I have some specific virtue which makes me not go hollow?

One thing is sure. I am not hollow.

And this knight definitely knows this. Above my cell, in a hole in the roof, there he is standing, holding a body which he threw down to me. The body had a glowing item above it.

I stood up and stretched my legs and arms, and walked over to the corpse. I wasn't walking for... what? Three years? I could hear only a demon or two, as opposed to the usual twenty or-so demons of the asylum, and where are the guards?

There always was a black knight and a few silver knights patrolling this part of the asylum.

I picked up the item. It was a key.

Impossible. If I ever meet this person again I am going to hug him.

I got the key into my cell's doors, and opened the cell. Amazing, it opened! This could've gone wrong in many ways.

The key not fitting, the cell door being broken, the door too rusty to open, the mechanisms broken. Everything was fine.

The one, last god left must be smiling upon my wretched soul today.

I walked out into the corridor, it being much warmer than my cell. Well, I suppose the is because of the lack of the holes in the roof and the torches.

Torches? Who lit them?

So there may still be knights in here, I never bothered to look for them. I walked over to a puddle and saw my reflection.

I looked just like any undead, a lack of eyes, pretty much a walking corpse, I still have short, brown hair left upon my head.

My name is... what was my name? Hmm, am I finally going hollow?

Oh, my name is Saera, of...

I'm thinking of a dangerous place, where great and powerful weapons and artifacts are made...

Carim! Yes! Thank Velka!

I was an... assassin, I think? I was killed in action. Then people noticed the darksign appearing on my stomach.

Next I remember, I'm at the damn asylum.

In my possesion were...

What did I have? I am having great trouble recalling... oh! I remember having a family heirloom. A very powerful ring...

Oh! I remember in detail now! I had THE Hornet's Ring! I come from a proud family of assassins, my very great great grandmother, Ciaran passed down her weapons and ring down the family!

I have received the Dark Silver Tracer and the ring, and my sister got the Gold Tracer.

I still remember, that is good, amazing even.

All around me are hollows that broken out of their cells, wandering aimlessly or sitting there. Some were quiet, others were crying.

I must find my equipment... But first, something relaxing.

I ran over to a random hollow, and propelled by the force of me running, smashed my hand into it's spine, killing it.

Yeah... amazing, souls! I had no souls for so many years! That's a win win situation, me putting a hollow out of it's misery and me getting souls!

You see, souls are the currency of either the wild part of the world, or the part of the world where undead are welcome.

Despite the fact that I just hit someone so hard I cracked his spine, I felt no pain in my fist, that is because I am in my... Darksign state?

I don't what it's called, when you're not in your undead state, most people are three month in this state before they go hollow, so no one bothered calling them anything else except for hollow.

And for some ignorant peasants there are only hollows, no undead! Can you understand that?

I was walking through the corridor, and entered a room with a ladder, and the water of sewers flowing around my feet.

Let me explain, I'm from the northern part of the asylum, where the cells are in the sewers.

While on the topic of the hollows and the asylum, let me explain how this asylum works.

Or worked, at the very least.

Undead are found, for example, on the street, with a darksign, died somehow, nobody cares.

Guards come, sweep up the body, and to the cage you go! When there are enough undead collected, they are shipped off to the Undead Asylum, where guards, after half a year killed off the hollow undead.

Then the Demons came. Before they caused too many damage, professional pyromancers managed to halt their destructive progress and make them show off their anger and nature on the hollows, when one tried to escape they destroyed it.

The only guards left were the black and silver knights, walking armors with not a single shard of humanity left, only walking souls.

After a while, I found myself in the courtyard of the Northern Undead Asylum. And then I noticed the knight sitting at the bonfire and staring at the flames.

I sat near him and looked at him.

I was really saved by a knight from a fairy tale. He wore a closed helmet, a chainmail which was enveloped in blue cloth on which was his crest, and on his left shoulder was a big shoulder pad, he wore a metal glove on his left hand, and a leather one on his right hand.

He was either from a rich family, a blacksmith or was a royal knight. That kind of armor... it was made for elite knights, the left hand being his shield hand which had more protection, and the right hand was lighter to allow him faster swings.

Very smart indeed.

On his legs were long, metal boots and greaves going up to almost his armor.

One thing that made him different to the few elite knights I saw? (I did see a few elite knights, they accompany the royals or go out on dangerous missions)

His shield... it was something. It was a crest shield.

Those shields were only made in Astora under the king's permission. Each one was a special one, one which boosted you endurane, one which enhanced your strength, some made you take no damage from fires, some were even known to make you hard as stone, not being able to be toppled over.

I think I know who it is.

I think he knows who I am.

"Saera of Carim..." he said, his voice soft and young, he didn't even look at me, and this wasn't a question, it was a statement, a sad statement.

I know who this is.

"Oscar of Astora?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Let me explain...

My very last task was to murder the oldest prince of Astora, who was a grave danger to Carim, it was a task which real spies got. Hired by the royal family itself, and when captured, no one would admit that they hired the assassin. The assassin's records erased completely from the kingdom's files.

I didn't exist anymore, simple as that, no files on me, no one knows, nor remembers me. Except for him, and I know why.

The prince had a personal knight to protect him at all times, while the prince was in his chambers, I slit his throat, and a knight lunged at me, trying to stab me, I jumped at him and slashed him with my Tracer, poisoning him, while he stabbed me through the gut.

The toxic quickly finished him off, quick before I died, it took about three seconds to kill him, while I was rolling about for twenty-four seconds with a blade in my gut. Yes, I counted.

The knight was Oscar of Astora.