Beast Within

Revisions of the Future

Shink. Shink. Shink. Shink.

Mechanically, I kept bringing the whetstone sharply across the blade of the heavy iron spearhead, removing any imperfections and notches, sharpening it until it could pierce even the heaviest of armors. The way the moonlight caught on its dull grey shine gave it a wicked gleam, as if it wanted nothing more than to steal the life of whatever was unfortunate enough to be on the wrong end of it.

I grunted at the sight of it, and firmly set it into the hard oak staff, ensuring the only way it would be taken off would be if it were broken off. And even then, the barbs on the very bottom of the spearhead would help to mangle any flesh it came across.

This wasn’t a tool made for defending oneself from harm any longer.

It was a weapon, made for war.

I gently took it in my hands, and stopped to look at the dusted room around me. Lifeless, bluish-grey stone made up the floor and walls of the former forge, arguably the best one there was, back in its day. I’m sure that in the past, its furnace would have been burning a bright, searing crimson, burning with the fuel needed to melt steel and iron, while the blacksmiths would have bustled around it, pounding away at their masterpieces. Now, however, with the dust and ruin of nearly a thousand years, it had faded from its glory.

But it still served my purposes.

Sighing, I got up from the rickety old stool I had scavenged for a part of the new workshop, and grabbed the rest of the spears I had created while down in that old forge...along with the swords, the axes, the shields, and other various weapons. They had all been in an alarming state of disrepair, but it wasn’t anything an old Werehog with nothing but time on his hands couldn’t fix. I had worked by night, using the light from the furnace to guide my tools.

And now, I had enough weapons for a small army.

I hefted all of the equipment into a heavy cart, and nearly effortlessly pushed it up the stairs to the nearby armory. Once I reached the enormous oaken doors, another recent addition thanks to yours truly, I pushed them open with a quick punch, revealing a room the size of a small aircraft hangar, filled to the brim with all manner of armor, of war machines, of weapons. Most built in an age long since past and in good condition. The rest...my own personal work.

With a small sapphire, I touched certain niche on the wall, activating a series of white crystals on the side of the walls, bathing the room in their gentle glow. Everything came into a clearer light, helping me see all across to the end of the room, where the rarest weapons were kept. Everything about that side of the room seemed made only for war...

And the light also helped to reveal a small, beaten and battered photo-frame that sat on a nearby table. At the sight of it, I let out another sigh, and tapped the sapphire with a single claw.

“Music, if you please,” I whispered to it. The gem flashed briefly, as I slipped it back into a pouch I wore on my belt, as the chords of a guitar filled the otherwise silent room.

I wiped a bit of sweat from my brow as I organized each crafted piece of ironwork into its proper place, stopping only to buckle a small shortsword to my side. The plain, copper-colored hilt bounced lightly against the reinforced steel mail, a sort of comforting rhythm in this lonely Hall of the Dead. My arms stretched to the very top of the room in some cases, placing spears on hooks, swords in their sheaths that were loosely attached to the walls, and otherwise just went about the slow, numbing process of storing weapons.

It was something terrible to behold, yet breathtaking in its own right. This was a room solely dedicated to war and battle, to taking lives before their time. The weapons, the training dummies, the maps and blueprints. All of it. Even my own additions, some more modern than what this world would know, fit in amongst them. It stood for one of the only things that was truly inescapable of a sentient species: Conflict.

And here I was, ready to bring it all back at a moment’s notice.

That kind of thought drives a man to drink.

As I made my way back to the table with the photo on it, I picked up a bottle filled with amber liquid, and drained it of its contents in a single pull. The liquid burned and stung on its way down, but I took a sort of enjoyment in it. It was something to focus on, at least.

I looked long and hard at the picture, staring intently at the framed mare with topaz colored eyes, and a smile as pretty as the sunrise on her face.

“A’int no sunshine when you’re gone, little one,” I croaked, unused to speaking out loud. Dropping the bottle to the floor, I strapped a massive battleax to my back, and checked to make sure the daggers near my boots were still there, and not likely to fall anytime soon.

I closed my eyes, and forced myself to face facts. I couldn’t put it off any longer.

My fingers trembled, not with fear, but with excitement. At last, something I could deal with in the simplest way possible.

As I walked out of the room, and dimmed the lights with another tap of the sapphire, I gently tapped my claws on a nearby tapestry for luck. The threads had faded, but it was still easy to see the twin alicorns embedded onto it. The pair, one white and one dark-blue, sitting in the throne room of this very castle.

This castle, my new home.

The Ancient Ruins of the Royal Sisters. Now affectionately referred to as, “The Lair of the Beast”.

I reflected on these thoughts, and once more wondered on my title, gained by lies and slander. I remembered when I used to be one of the most valued members of a small forest community, when I was a father, when I was a guard.

And now, here I was. A Beast about to go to war.

I shook those thoughts out of my head, and growled lightly at myself. I needed to focus on surviving the night, first. Then I could think deep thoughts. Slowly, I trekked through the long hallways of the castle, making my way right to the front doors that lead to the old courtyard.

With another light push, I nearly sent the doors flying off their hinges, and gazed upon the outside world.

Out from the canyon that separated my home from the Everfree forest, another remnant of the first banishment of Nightmare Moon, the air started to shimmer, as if distorted by an immeasurable amount of power and heat. The shimmering shifted, quickly coming closer and closer, more intense, as a shapeless, dark mass of shadows crawled out of the abyss. Several tendrils extended into an almost-clawlike form, tearing at the ground for some amount of leverage.

As the monster slowly rose to its full height, small, tiny pinpricks of a foreboding green light floated in front of what would barely pass for its head, almost glaring at me. It seemed to question why I still existed, why I hadn’t turn and ran like any sane creature would at seeing this monstrosity.

As it loomed over me, I drew my sword from its sheath, and tightened a small shield on my other arm.

“You want some of this, bub?” I snarled at it, my entire body tensed up, ready to strike.

The monster silently rushed towards me, its presence overtaking everything in its path.

Feeling pure, raw anger surge throughout my entire being, I roared at the top of my lungs, letting out a wordless battlecry, challenging him for not only my life, but for the ones it had taken in its destructive embrace. Bringing my sword up, I charged at him, knowing full well I could be running right into my next death.

In other words...

I went to war.

Next Chapter: 17) Hunter and Prey Estimated time remaining: 25 Minutes