Author's Notes:

Happy anniversary! And thank you to all my watchers and fans who stuck with me after the finale of Bruised Apples. As a bit of a thing to celebrate the one year anniversary of what is perhaps my most popular story, I decided to make a little thing I had in mind since before I finished my little project last year. A story about how the king of caribou deals with his own demise.

Now some of you might be asking "what is the purpose of this", and well... I'll say that its nothing malicious. I just wanted to write a tale featuring one of the most well know characters of the setting... who hasn't really had any real character development in the setting that basically revolves around his existence. Consider it a character study (Though perhaps not a very good one) of how a person who thinks themselves invincible reacts when he learns that he's feeding the maggots.

For those here for the sexiness that is heavily prevalent in FoE, I'm afraid that this story will not have much in the way of clop. It will have a reference or a slight nod here or there, but outright sexual situations will not be featured. Just a bit of a warning for those looking for that sort of action in their reading material. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.

The Grand Galloping Gala had always been a night anticipated by many to be the greatest event of the year. For the attendees, it was a night where some of their greatest dreams could be achieved. Where they would see spectacles that they would see nowhere else. Where they would be able to meet and mingle with some of the most illustrious members of Equestrian society, and take in the luxurious decor of Canterlot Castle. For some it was a time to celebrate the year’s accomplishments. For others, a time of new beginnings. For the king of the caribou though, none of these reasons fit his motivations.

The caribou king, Dainn, while attending the pony created ceremony, had no interest in joining in with the others who invaded the annexed castle he called his home that evening. Instead, he sat far away from them atop a stage, looking down upon them all as they made use of his slaves and consumed his food like maggots on a carcass. Dozens of stallions, and their insignificant slaves, all scurrying about to make the most of a night that they did little to help create. Ingrates that only assisted his species in bringing order to this world because they wanted to weasel themselves into his favor. Con artists, corrupt guardsmen, and other such rats that bent wherever the wind blew, taking the path of least resistance because they were too cowardly to do otherwise.

These ponies, stallion and mare alike, sickened Dainn. That he had to tolerate their presence due to a brief moment of usefulness was appalling. Yet, they were only a part of the filth that filled his dining hall with their stench. There were others who were there only because of the ‘cure’ the caribou had created that forced their complacency. An enchantment that made them see things in the way the caribou wanted them to. That the female sex was inherently inferior. That those not blessed with a dick at the moment of their birth were stupid, frail creatures that were not fit to have any form of responsibility or respect. That any woman, regardless of age, race, title or upbringing, was not worthy of any role greater than being a subservient pet who provided pleasure to a male master, and that not only was this what they deserved, but it was what the female mind truly desired.

Those under this enchantment, such as Prince Shining Armor, were Dainn’s loyal, and unwitting, pawns. Blissfully unaware that they were committing atrocious acts of rape and tyranny in his name. Simply doing what the thoughts that flooded their minds commanded, and instilling the caribou’s regime of sexual domination and female oppression every time they stuffed their engorged cocks into a mare’s mouth. Still, Dainn could not pretend this was true loyalty. If anything, these equine males were worse than those who had aided him out of greed or fear. Disgusting creatures who under other circumstances would have seen women as equals, or betters. Those who might submit to the rule of a female with no question. Who had done so in the past, and would probably do so again if not for the enchantments in place. The brainwashing, and Dainn knew that he could call it little more than that, that made them into cock guided automatons was the only thing that guaranteed their compliance, and so were scum where the other more conniving stallions mere vermin.

Lastly, there were the mares themselves. The lowest of the low. Things so beneath anything in status that there was nothing other to refer to them as than ‘female’. The alicorn princesses that he kept as personal pleasure tools were one thing, the serving staff and ‘celebrity’ mares that were deemed of a higher quality were another, but his guests had brought in whatever eyesores they felt would impress their fellow males, be they less than adequate red collars, or the repugnantly defiant black collars. The sight of their use, which was in great quantities and variety, didn’t interest the caribou king in the slightest, as despite the demeanor of his race toward sex, he wasn’t so guided by lust as them and only involved himself in sexual activity when his body needed release, or he had to make a point. Thus, Dainn could not enjoy the massive orgy taking place in his palace, and could only dwell on the mess to his palace that it was creating in its wake.

Perhaps though, that was not the only thing weighing heavily on the caribou king’s mind that made it impossible for him to enjoy what was suppose to be a celebration of the anniversary of his rise to power. He should have at least been happy to see that his trusted caribou generals and council members were having the time of their lives taking pleasure from the red collars, and mercilessly violating and tormenting the black collars. He should have been pleased by the company of the white alicorn slave caged next to him, who adored a purple collar that denoted that she was broken and defeated beyond any form of repair. He should have gotten some kind of sadistic satisfaction seeing the former princess Luna suspended painfully by her ankles and wrists as every male in the castle took turns ravaging her three unwanting holes and caked her with cum. This was all a display of how absolute and unstoppable his power was in the world, of his wealth and majesty, but truth be told… it was an illusion.

In all honesty, the past year had not been as prosperous as he and his fellow caribou liked to present it. Things were not so overly positive, nor garnered anywhere near the results he was expecting by this point. For starters, it appeared the enchantment the caribou created to quell uprisings and instill order was not as good as he would have hoped. There was a small amount of stallions that were completely immune to it, ‘Incurables’. It wasn’t a lot, but enough to be noticeable, and that was a problem, since most formed resistance groups in attempt to free mares and remove the caribou from power.

Not only that, but the brainwashing magic was proven to only affect ponies, and not the other races of Equestria. Buffalo and Zebra had both at one point fought against his regime, only to be forced to bow before his might in the end, but they had to have the entirety of their males switch into the females to control the former, and given deals that they wouldn’t suffer a more hands-on approach from the caribou’s rule for the latter. It didn’t bother Dainn in the slightest that he had to turn an entire race into women to ensure they would never rise up against him, which the buffalo appeared to have the power to do, but the idea that he had to make an agreement with the Zebra, allowing them to have a populous of females who weren’t being treated as they should, didn’t sit well with him.

Sure, part of the agreement was that a portion of their women be sent to Equestria to serve a life of servitude, but it nowhere compared to the amount that had been spared. Dainn couldn’t do anything about it though. In reality, the deal was a bluff, as he couldn’t permanently station men in the Zebra nation when there was still problems with rebels in what was to be the capital of the world once his plan would come to full fruition. Perhaps once he had fully brought Equestria under his heel, but for now he needed every man he had, especially since there was more than one occasion where his own caribou soldiers and citizens would be found murdered by what had to be rebel attacks, and covering up such events to make it appear that his people were untouchable was no easy task.

Of course, other species across the globe reacted similarly, such as the dragons being unapproachable because of their outright power that surpassed that of most other creatures, and lived in hostile lands that made it difficult to get close enough to them. He was still trying to figure out a way to get them under control, having tamed one of their kind that had taken up residence in Equestria to some degree, but the method he used wasn’t repeatable on a grand scale like that of his Crystal Cock enchantment. Then there were the diamond dogs, who had taking up a more interesting and adaptive method of causing trouble for the regime, in that they were spreading chaos through kidnapping slave mares and ransoming them back to their owners at a high price.

As amusing as this was, it got the king many complaints from his pony citizens, and just like with the zebra issue, Dainn had no real answer to it. He had sent in soldiers before to deal with the dogs, but their caverns were too vast to find any kind of base of operations, and the creatures themselves made a mockery of his men with simple tricks that were designed to frustrate and confuse. It was one thing to fight an opponent who would easily submit to your tactics, but when having to deal with creatures who didn’t fight fair, or face you in favorable conditions, there was little to do but retreat. Ultimately, all he could do to make it seem like he was still in control was to allow the dogs to continue their acts of piracy, and place the blame on the ponies for not keeping track of their property.

Thankfully, there were a few races that were not so difficult. The changeling queen easily gave up when given a promise of leniency, which was one that Dainn had no intention of keeping long term, and the gryphon males likewise didn’t fight his rule when the offer of gold was on the table. But as with those few ponies that sold their own kind, these two groups only served to disgust Dainn with their underhanded obedience. The bug queen should have surrendered without any need of a deal, simply because her place was being squished under the hoof of men, and the gryphons shouldn’t need constant compensation for doing what they are supposed to do. Why did someone as righteous and justful as Dainn have to constantly associate with vultures and vermin that would pick his body clean the moment it showed signs of illness? It was a problem, as there was plenty of blood in the water as it was.

Overpopulation brought on by the flood of female slaves coming in daily. A shortage of food brought on by over exacerbation of resources. Heavy droughts, warm winters, and otherwise uncontrollable weather created by Equestria’s unique climate that needed to be magically managed and a lack of substantial male pegasi that could handle the task. All of these issues appeared to have easy solutions, but they would be unacceptable. He wasn’t going to send the prizes his men earned back to where they came from. He wasn’t going to start rationing food and show that his kingdom was barely surviving. Most of all, he was certainly not going to let the female pegasi have their feathers back in order to aid the weather team. So for now dealing with the conniving cowards and schemers of this world would have to do, as it was the only thing to make the problems that plagued Dainn’s kingdom let up even slightly. However, every small ease to a current problem lead to a future issue that felt much worse. Despite how much he wanted the rest of the world to believe that his power was unmatched, his kingdom unbreakable, his people as if an unstoppable force of nature, his entire regime was built upon little victories at great cost.

It never use to be this way. Back in the caribou’s homeland, his people thrived. Before the rest of the world learned of caribou, the cervine race had their own grand kingdom, if somewhat smaller than Equestria, that they ruled with unparalleled power and authority. No one in their lands questioned their method of leadership, and even nature itself bent to the will of the caribou male, existing as an extension of their desire to express themselves sexually, and assure that females knew their natural place in life. Caribou females were inherently born in a manner that was appeasing, and needed little training to get the results their male masters needed from them. Most importantly, there were no rebels or the like that did everything in their power to fuck this order up. Everything just worked, because that was what it was suppose to do.

Of course, that was all before The Cycle. That was when Dainn’s mentor, King Svardagr was in charge, and before the destruction occurred that forced Dainn to leave the isolated island that was his home with as many supplies, sex slaves, and soldiers loyal to him that he could fill into a few boats. How was it that Equestria could have so much more than the homeland, in both resources, and technical and cultural advances, and still need so much work done to it that it was completely unmanageable? How did it stay afloat for a thousand years under the incompetent leadership of the woman he now called his concubine? Why was it that the caribou nation, in all its perfection, was doomed to failure when the pony nation flourished with all its mistakes?

“King Dainn”, a voice said, breaking Dainn’s concentration on the thoughts that plagued his mind.

It was one of the nearly worthless pony guards of the castle that addressed the caribou king. Dainn had allowed the stallions within Celestia’s formerly established guard to keep their former ranks when he assumed control of Equestria, but just as with the civilian populous, most only swapped loyalty because of the enchantment placed on the kingdom. Thus, while they were still addressed by their previous ranks, their roles were changed significantly. Now they mostly served as errand boys, doing whatever menial task arose that Dainn’s men didn’t find interesting enough to deal with themselves. This usually pertained to delivering messages, lugging around heavy objects, or fucking and torturing the princesses and castle slaves to keep them in check when Dainn couldn’t be arsed to do so himself. Otherwise, they were just kept around to act as an intimidating presence for those who might want to attack Canterlot Castle. Those who might want to stage an assassination attempt would easily be scared away by the sheer number of armed soldiers in the palace, even if Dainn himself didn’t believe a battalion of pony warriors added up to the capability and skill of a single caribou male.

“What is it?” Dainn replied to the unnamed guardsman, downing the last sips of a wine goblet he had been using to nurse his troubled mind, not so much as looking at the loathsome equine that stood closer to him than the pathetic creature deserved.

The guard stood in respectful attention, a position befitting of a male of such a lowly species, and proceeded to say, “You wished to be notified when a couple hours passed midnight.”

That was the best news Dainn had heard since the night began. It meant that it would not be too much longer until the freeloaders would be vacated from his home. Before that though, he would have to address them, and allow them to view his council as they ravaged the former symbols of heroism of Equestria, the ‘Elements of Harmony’. These six mares had had their bodies violated and sexually devastated time and time again since the time of their collaring, and even over the course of the Gala itself as Dainn had witnessed, but this would be the perfect capstone to the event that celebrated Dainn’s and his brood’s dominance over both females and ponies alike.

After that, there was a to be a little ceremony to take place with one of them after that, a speech to be given by an earth pony hick amongst their feeble ranks that had recently submitted to caribou rule and earned a red collar, but that wasn’t anything of great importance comparatively. She would say her words, partake of a reward of pleasuring the king with her unworthy mouth to prove her loyalty, and the night would be over. More a spectacle devised for PR reasons than anything else, and would be amongst the least noteworthy of the Gala’s events.

With this time frame set in Dainn’s mind, he slowly rose from the position he most took comfort in, and approached the front of the stage to get the attention of his ‘guests’.

Suddenly, something overcame the monarch about halfway to his destination. A sense of vertigo, accompanied by an odd feeling of displacement filled his being. It felt as if his surroundings had changed in an instance, though his location was exactly the same as before. Still, the caribou king had a sense that he was now somewhere, or somewhen else.

After the initial confusion, he begun to notice that he was having trouble breathing. Something was constricting his throat, and getting tighter as the seconds passed. He flailed to remove it, but no matter how hard he shook or how forcefully he pulled at the obstruction with his hands, nothing gave. Shock set in, and for the first time in forever, panic struck Dainn and took over his senses. This only lasted a moment though, for as quickly as the unfamiliar emotion came, it just as quickly left as another sensation flooded every bit of the deer’s consciousness.

The sensation was intense, agonizing, and coursed through his body unlike anything else he had ever felt before in his lifetime. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. His body had frozen, and his senses were all overlapped by this pain, and his body’s urge to evacuate all unnecessary fluids from itself. When his muscles finally loosened, he could feel a stream of piss exiting from his slowly deflating shaft, taking with it chucks of other, more viscous fluids. His whole being collapsed shortly after, causing the king to drop to his knees, being spared a face plant with the wooden floor of the stage he had spend the night sitting upon only because something was keeping him upright. Something tightly wrapped around his throat.

Dainn struggled to comprehend what was going on, how he could have ended up in this position of vulnerability, but his mind wouldn’t focus on anything but the pain. Even as an orange furred, blonde haired mare arose in front of him, he couldn’t connect the tear obscured visage to being the cause of his immense suffering. He didn’t understand that just moments ago, she had driven her hoof into the most sensitive part of his body with a force that would crack concrete. That the sickness he felt was brought upon by his sack rupturing, and his testicles smashed like grapes between a pair of fingers. That the entirety of what he called his crotch was now compressed into a hoofprint shaped crater within his body.

Stunned as he was, Dainn could do little as events moved on without him. The caribou felt the firm grip of a hand wrapping around his muzzle, but could do nothing to react to it. His body gave no resistance, nary a flinch, to the hand’s presence, or the mighty pull that followed shortly after. A new pain arose from this sudden jerking motion, that of breaking bones, twisting flesh, and a collapsing windpipe. At first the sensations joined with the already traumatizing anguish he felt, mixing to form a new kind of hell within his mind. Not long after though, both sensations began to fade, bringing a strange sense of calm with it. With his mind settling, he could finally focus, and take in the image of the red clydesdale in front of his eyes. He knew this stallion. Not personally, but well enough to know he was the brother and handler of the orange mare that was part of the ‘Elements of Harmony’.

It was then when everything came rushing back. After the scheduled orgy between those six mares and his personal council, the earth mare known as Applejack had gotten up before the crowd of sexually sated ponies and caribou as planned. She had delivered her haphazard speech, and all but proven she was a reformed mare. Then she had been offered her reward, and had proved otherwise. Rejecting to slurp on the most regal rod the world had to offer, the mare had made a mockery of the king in his own home, which was something he couldn’t abide by. She had to be punished, immediately and thoroughly, but with things as they were, that was difficult.

Dainn never took the hands-on approach when punishing mares, always allowing others to do so for him. Even Celestia had been trained into her submissive state by Hrathr, because Dainn felt no need to do tame her himself. However, this defiant earth pony female had challenged Dainn directly, so it had fallen upon him to deal with her directly in turn. If he didn’t, his image would have been tarnished. Then again, that wouldn’t have compared at all to how badly it would have looked if this mare gave him even the slightest physical resistance while he attempted to discipline her. Part of Dainn’s image was that his power was unparalleled, and if an earth mare of all things were to prove that wrong in the presence of so many influential ponies as those that attended the Gala that night, then word could, and probably would, spread quickly. He had already watched as she had resisted Ivangir’s powerful might with ease earlier, one of the most strongest caribou the king knew, and there was a history of a mean streak in this orange pony, so the king really didn’t want to risk a confrontation if he could avoid it.

So at first the Dainn had tried to give her another chance to give in. Tried to persuade her by using the logic of her own inferiority, only to meet with no results. Then he attempt to use her friend, the purple alicorn, to show her reason. As with all stubborn mares though, the orange pony would not budge. It had all been so undignified, that she had been backing him up into a corner without so much as lifting a finger.

In the end, he had seen no recourse but to attempt intimidation with threats of ‘physical’ persuasion, and he had made his move upon her in hopes that her nerve was not as steely as it appeared. Before he could even lay a hand on her though, her brother had stepped in, and had started strangling Dainn from behind. Everything between that and the moment the mare’s hoof impacted with his balls was a blur, with the moment of comfort he felt from earlier that night a mere flashing of slightly better time before his eyes. Even with this understanding though, Dainn still refused to accept what had apparently happened.

“And so Dainn stared at the clydesdale, his murderer, with the most intense hatred one could give to another being. As if trying to burn his rage into the pony and leave a mark of it upon the red fur of his body. This would not prevent his fate though, and soon the caribou king’s vision faded into darkness.” With an utterance of those words, a cloaked figure slammed close a sizable tome in its hand, curling it up between its arm and body as it looked at Dainn. “Does that about sum it up?”

The caribou didn’t pay the figure any mind, he had more pressing matters on his mind. Such as the form of his own body laying at his hooves, twisted and beaten, in ways that one clearly could not survive.

“Hello~ Are you listening to me? This is the physical manifestation of Death calling.” The figure proceeded to say, jumping down from the pedestal where the traitorous orange mare had given her speech, upon which it had been sitting. “Look, I know this is probably a big deal for you and everything, but we got a lot to do and Death waits for no man. Or is that time? I always get those mortal metaphors mixed up.”

The figure approached the caribou, and placed its hands on his shoulders to guide him gently away from what appeared to be his corpse. Dainn only took a few steps before planting his hooves firmly on the floor to prevent himself from going any further.

“Who are you?” he demanded sternly, glaring at the hooded figure with the same rage he gave the red stallion before.

“Weren’t ya listening to me as I did the whole ‘This is Your Life’ speel. I. Am. Death. Nice to meet ya!”

The figure extended its hand, only to have Dainn knock it away. “You cannot be ‘Death’, because I know that I’m not dead.”

“Oh boy… you’re one of those types huh. I know how to handle this. I’ll just have to give ya the talk. Where to start... Well when a really strong pony hates a sexist tyrant very much-”

“Silence!” said Dainn, taking hold of the figure by one of its arms and its hood. “I’ve had enough of this foolishness! Take off that disguise and show me who you really are.”

With a simple yank, the hood was removed to reveal what it had been obscuring. However, what lied underneath was not some stereotypical skeletal visage, but instead was that of a mare. A purple, crystalline unicorn with dark blue hair, with her horn defiantly intact. This confused the caribou more than it answered his suspicion.

“Do… I know you?” he asked, intensifying his grip in anger to a level that should have crushed the pathetic mare’s bicep.

The mare didn’t cry out in pain by this gesture though, and only gave him a toothy grin in return for his effort. With that look, that expression devoid of any fear or respect for the caribou, Dainn realized that this was going to be another situation he couldn’t simply intimidate himself out of.