~Tangerine~

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Wolf River passes into a bloodcurdling rage the instant we set hoof through the door, into the chamber he claimed to be our final destination for this mission. I can hear his breath seeping through his teeth, and as I stand beside him, looking out into the room, I can see why.

A cream colored colt, a mere adolescent by the look of it, hangs from a cross with his hoofs nailed to each side. Three javelins protrude from his chest. The blood still drains from the punctures, but the stench tells me he’s been this way for some time now. Whoever did this to him has merely neglected to take the body away.

“I knew you’d come, mongrels, and I must say, I find your profanity quite undeserved.” Amidst the darkness of the cavern, I hadn’t noticed the robed figure standing before the crucified colt. It’s an elderly stallion, equipped with another javelin. “Last I recall, you and your Carrier brethren are the children of a bitch.”

Wolf River‘s rage breaks forth. “GrrrrraaaaaaAAAAAGH!!” He brandishes his axe, swinging blindly before he even grows close to the elderly one, who pulls back his hood to reveal a long, white mane and greying fur, and a long horn. It glows a harsh blue as he erects a magical shield. Wolf River slams his axe against it.

“What did you have to gain from murdering Hilt?! He wasn’t even part of the circle!” His screaming escalates with every swing he makes against the shield. The elderly one begins to sweat as fractures appear in his spell.

“YOU! DIVINE! DAMNED! COWARD!” Wolf River shouts, punctuated with every impact of his axe. He steps back, and with a final horizontal swing, the shield shatters, leaving the elderly one to stumble over. The black stallion, grinding his teeth, drops his axe, pins the zealot down and slams his hooves against his neck, strangling him.

The elderly one‘s gasps for air sound out in desperation as he tries to force Wolf River off of him. “Go... ahead...” he chokes, laughing despite the muscular stallion crushing his windpipe. “Do it...”

Simultaneously mesmerized and horrified by the sheer anger emanating from Wolf River, I approach, drawing my onyx sword just in case something goes awry. I pace around him as he squeezes the life out of the zealot.

Wolf River‘s enraged grit turns into a disturbingly wide grin. “Foul enough that you steal our sacred weapon, now you go and murder an innocent child... I won’t let you escape this time...” He picks up his axe, still keeping a grip on the old one’s neck. He throws him to the ground and makes a decisive swing. I brace myself for the sight of blood and muscle flying from the point of impact...

And then the zealot disappears in a flash of blue light, blinding me and causing me to drop my sword. I feel the cold impact of stone upon my cheek. When the light clears and I blink my sight back into my eyes, Wolf River and I are on the ground, our hooves bound by enchanted shackles.

“FUCK!” screams the stallion beside me. “It was only a projection! I should have known better than to think Silver Tongue would reveal himself so willingly.”

“What do we do now?” I struggle against the chains, to no avail, so I strain myself even harder to break them to the point of my muscles screaming for me to stop. Never surrender, that’s the Imperial Legion’s code...

Oh, what’s the point? The Imperial Legion cares not if I live or die. I’m nothing to them. Just like Oregano was when I took his position... How fickle. Their code is worthless here, and so am I.

I look up to Hilt’s bleeding corpse, still nailed to the cross. I have a sinking feeling that Wolf River and I will suffer the same fate, very soon.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Tangerine...”

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

I let out a triumphant yawn, stretching my forelegs over my head as I toss the blankets aside. My boots and armor lie discarded on the floor. I shrug, bending over to pick them up. As I do so, I look back at Servant Boy, who has just awoken from his cat nap. He looks my way and locks his gaze on the sacred buns. “Enjoying the view?” I ask with a smirk.

A flash of red strikes his cheeks. “Um, yes, Master Tohro.”

I make a long and dramatic show of sliding on my boots, allowing him to get a good look at my nethers. I always get a kick out this sort of attention, and it may be a long while before he gets another glance at this treasury.

I equip my leather armor and tie my mane back into a tail, looking at myself in the mirror. As per usual, I look gorgeous, despite my disfigured left eye. Despite the nasty taboo it represents, it’s grown on me. It makes me look like more than just another pretty colt.

Servant Boy is the prettier one in this room, still stark naked as he cloaks his boyhood with the blankets. I swagger over to his side of the bed and plant a sultry kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for entertaining me. We should do this again sometime.”

“I’d... I’d like that,” he mutters.

What is it about the shy ones I find so arousing?

“Master Tohro, that earthwalker you travel with, the Dragonborn... Next time we, well...” The timid colt taps his hooves together. “Do you think he’d like to join us?”

Recalling any time Caro showed genuine attraction for another pony, or anything living being for that matter, proves difficult. I’ve been with him since I rescued him from Gallopagos Keep, and not once have I seen him grow stiff at the sight of any handsome mare or colt. He turned down bloody Sugar and Spice, despite everything about them being quite nice. Him and Shae... They have a guardian to child relationship and nothing more. At least, I hope that’s the case. He could crush her flat.

No, perhaps Caro is merely asexual, and frankly, I feel that’s a waste of a good seed. Who wouldn’t like a litter of little Dragon-newborns fus ro dahing all over the place?

“Sorry, love,” I say, nuzzling Servant Boy's cheek. He giggles. “I think Caro flies alone, but we shouldn’t let that keep us from having fun every now and then, eh?” I tap my hoof to my chin. “Though I wouldn’t say no if you brought along another servant boy. Oh, and, uh, I hope you don’t mind if I keep calling you that.” I couldn’t be bothered to learn his full name.

Servant Boy nervously plants a peck on my lips. “That all you got?” I boast, pulling him back in for a full-on snog. When our lips part, he puts on the silliest grin. “By the way, I wouldn’t mind playing servant next time.”

I shut the door behind me on the way out. I do a twirl on a single hind leg before looping through the air. “Ah, what fun. We get to stay in the Rainbow Palace, Caro fells a second dragon, I get some steamy love from Servant Boy... I feel like celebrating in a culinary manner. A trip to the bakery is in order.” I reach into my pouch before realizing I left all the bits with Caro before taking off with Servant Boy.

Another servant, an older mare, passes by. “Excuse me, Ma’am?” I ask, wrapping my foreleg around her neck, to her disdain. I pay it no mind. “Have you seen a turquoise earthwalker with dragon eyes around here?”

“The Dragonborn? Oh, yes.” She points down the hallway. “I believe he was just at the armory, buying some ore.”

I suppose he’s probably fixing up a personal replacement for Rosemary’s scimitar, Divines rest its soul, until that blacksmith mare can send us a suitable successor. “My thanks to you, Ma’am.”

The faster I find Caro, the sooner I can fill my belly with a metric ton of sweetrolls.

~Vision End~

~Tangerine~

As a lady of war, I thrive in battle, or planning for battle, or training for battle. When victory is achieved, I relish the satisfaction that I made the right choices that contributed to that success.

As such, the sheer embarrassment, ever an understatement, that I’m enduring right now is further amplified by the implications. I hardly took bruise nor cut in the skirmishes on the way here, yet somehow I still failed, ending up with my hooves in chains against a dusty cavern floor, surrounded by a lake of murky water.

I’ve been nothing but a failure as of late. A failure as a general, a failure as a mother, a failure to Wolf River... I’m a failure as an earthwalker.

“M’lady...” mutters Wolf River, finally come down from his bloodrage, “I must tell you how sorry I am.”

I glance over my shoulder to see the black stallion, his eyes full of regret. Unfortunately for him, I can‘t sympathize. “I’m not much in any mood to be pitied,” I say, curling up under my cape. “It’s not your fault I’m lost in the eyes of the queen.”

“Where’s your pride, General?” Wolf River, despite the chains, manages to sidle along the ground, growing closer to me. “The Silver Horseshoe haven’t stolen it too, have they?”

“I lost my pride along with my title. I only kept my armor and my brave face to force my way through a hapless search for revenge.” I scrunch up my muzzle, trying to not shed tears on reflection of my mistakes. “Either way, I’m a lost cause. My only option was to see if I could reclaim my honor through you and the Carrier Clan.” I deliberately face away from Wolf River in the hopes he can’t see me losing what little dignity I have left.

“You must have heard Aerial talking,” he says. “I’m the least honorable of the Carrier Clan. I have more blood to my name than the rest of them combined, and for all the wrong reasons.” I hear Wolf River’s chains rattle. He must have thrashed his hooves in frustration. “The life of a mercenary leaves scars on a pony. Figuratively and literally. I joined the Carrier Clan so I could leave all that behind me.”

I don’t respond, but I will admit that Wolf River once being a mercenary makes sense. His brutal fighting style and callousness in the act of murder... He must have been fantastic at his job.

“You inspired me to do it.”

My ears perk up. “Mercenary work?” I ask.

Wolf River lets out a snort of laughter. “Goodness, no. I joined the Carrier Clan because of you, the day after I met you.”

“We only met recently. You’ve been part of the Clan for several years, right?”

“Don’t you remember the second battle of Trottingham? Blackwing soldiers attempted a seizure of the town. I was there that night, on a contract. When the cannons started firing, I hid in an alleyway. Just when it seemed victory was within the Blackwings’ reach, I saw you. You led a small battalion of soldiers on an entire Blackwing army, and you won. I never saw a more beautiful sight.”

I hope he can’t see my blush. I may just die of further embarrassment. “By beautiful, you mean... my victory?”

“No.”

My cheeks cannot get any redder. No colt has ever humbled me like this, not even Oregano.

“I kept my eye on you, even when I couldn’t see you. Word of mouth, town criers, songs of your greatest battles, I followed it all. Your words and actions stuck with me, to the point where I wanted some of that honor you spoke of so fondly, but I’d never be allowed in the Imperial Legion. So, I ended my foolish life of murder for coin, and signed on with the Carrier Clan. Because of you, M’lady.”

All this flattery lifts my spirits, but I still feel it’s undeserved. “That was when I was a general. Now, I am nothing.”

“No, you’re everything. I want to help you, M’lady, because this land needs your warrior’s spirit more than ever. But...” Wolf River lets out a long sigh. “I have my own reasons. Most nights, I dreamt of fighting alongside you, seeing your grace and serenity on the battlefield up close and personal, and today, that dream came true.”

I’m... everything?

I can imagine that if Wolf River’s hooves weren’t bound, they would be touching my face at this moment, and I’d welcome it.

“I fell in love, Lady Tangerine.”

An involuntary gasp passes my lips. I turn my body over to find myself face to face with him, the black stallion I unintentionally inspired. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me, and the vice versa applies to me.

“Wolf River...” I whisper, realizing I can feel his warm breath on my muzzle. “Do you think we were fated to meet?”

He answers by continuing his song.

“Like sorrowful seagulls they sang, lost in the deep shades the misty cloud brought...
Monstrous it covered the shore, fearful into the unknown...”

Despite the meaning of that song making little to no sense to me, it’s starting to draw my affection. I can’t help but find it fascinating, endearing, if not a little tragic and mysterious...

The clangs of metal sound out from beyond the door, and the cackles of those such sounds belong to are far too menacing to be the merry voices of an Carrier. It’s the Silver Horseshoe, no doubt come to finish us both.

The ajar door is shoved open by five figures. Two mares, three stallions, one of which wearing a zebra pelt as a hood. That one carries a war axe, like Wolf River, and the others have maces.

“Aha! The mongrel and his bitch,” says the one with the pelt. “Bad dogs deserved to be skinned, you know. Silver Tongue’s orders.” He gives his axe a playful swing, his grin becoming more sadistic. I don’t give him the satisfaction of appearing scared, because I’m not. He points his axe just inches from my face. “So, which one gets skinned first? I’ll let you decide, because I’m a nice colt.”

One of the mares is trotting in place with her mace in her mouth. “Come ooon, Butcher, just split their heads in half and get it overwith!” she says.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” says Butcher, nudging the blade against my cheek, just barely taking skin. “See, these dogs have sold their souls for power. They cannot feel pain. Isn’t that right, bitch?”

I spit in his eye. He wipes it away and backs off. “Okay, you were right. Let’s just kill these dogs.”

Thank the Divines. They’ve only said a few words and I’m already sick of their religious bullshit. Just kill me now so I don’t have to hear it. They surround us in formation with their weapons raised. Butcher closes his eyes and points the blade to the sky, or ceiling in this case.

“Dearest Epona, who art the mother and creator of ponykind, with our weapons in hoof we bring your will upon this accursed and impure world. May these mongrels forever suffer in Tartarus for their sins against you...”

I tune out his zealotus ranting long enough to gaze at Wolf River. He clears his throat and moves his muzzle against my ear. “Lady Tangerine, I need you to look into my eyes.” He then brings me face to face again.

I’m tempted to ask, ‘What? Why?’ and other one worded questions but given the dire circumstances, I’m forced to oblige.

Wolf River’s eyes are a brilliant shade of orange, something you might see at the beach on a summer’s eve. It’s an unusual color, and it’s uncannily vivid compared to the rest of his black body and crimson mane.

“You see?” he asks. I nod quickly as a response. “There’s something I have to show you.”

My eyes widen. “I don’t think now’s the best time-” His fierce glare shuts me up.

“I had hoped to avoid showing you so soon...” He closes his radiant orange eyes and clenches his teeth together, his breath hastening. When his eyelids open again, his whites are stained with red, veins showing and all.

The weapons over our heads don’t scare me, but seeing this sudden wave of... whatever this is... overcoming him causes me great panic. I shuffle away from his twitching body as much as I can. “Wolf River?”

“This is how far I went to claim my honor. This is how far you drove me to... to...” His fractured words turn into snarls. “This is the Carrier Clan’s greatest weapon...”

“Butcher?” One of the Silver Horseshoe mares breaks out of the formation to tug on the ringleader’s shoulder. “Look upon the black one.”

Butcher’s chanting comes to an end as he glances at Wolf River with suspicion, eyebrows askew. “What in the name of...” He jumps back as the thrashing stallion glares at him with his bloodshot eyes. “Oh, by Epona’s mane! Get back, you lot! Step away!”

One of the colts pipes up. “What are you doing?! Just kill him before-”

“No, it’s too dangerous!”

“Tangerine...”

My gaze keeps snapping back and forth from the panicking Silver Horseshoe pelters and Wolf River, who has his face in the dirt. That can’t be pleasant...

“Whatever you do... don’t look away... Promise me that...”

Despite the weight of the shackles, I manage to reach over and touch Wolf River’s hooves, nodding again. “I promise.” He smiles for a brief moment before he lets out a growl that makes my skin crawl.

His growls become less like a furious stallion’s and more like a beast’s by the moment. His muscles begin to flare as a black smoke protrudes forth from his mouth, enveloping his entire being. He begins to grow, the shackles shattering into pieces at his hooves... no, wait, they aren’t hooves anymore... claws?!

Wolf River’s muzzle extends and his teeth grow sharper. His lips curl before he shuts them and points his head to the ceiling, letting out a howl. The howl of a... wolf.

Claws gleaming in the torchlight, drool dripping from its teeth, with a coarse coat of fur black as night. I look upon the bipedal wolf that’s replaced the black stallion. My mouth hangs open as I try to scream, but my voice won’t come to me.

Butcher’s lip twitches before it curls into a smile. “I knew it.” He points his axe at the snarling wolf. “Silver Tongue will have the most valuable pelt of all. The pelt of a lycan.”

Lycan.

“KILL HIM!”

The enthusiastic mare is the first to pounce on the wolf’s back, wailing on it with her mace. The wolf shakes his back, knocking her off balance before he grabs ahold of her. With a single snarl, it slams her to the floor and swipes its claws across her chest, silencing her mad giggling.

Blood falls from the wolf’s claws and it laps it up greedily. It then turns to the two mook stallions and the remaining mare, its fangs flaring. It pounces on one of the colts, who strikes the wolf across the head with the mace. The wolf reels back from the impact and snaps right back, cracking its neck. The mace comes around for another blow. The wolf catches it with one hand and snaps it in half with one squeeze. It then sinks its teeth into the colt’s neck and tears it away.

As it chews the moist flesh, the last two pelters standing begin to show faces of sheer terror, for good reason. It doesn’t stop them from swinging blindly at the wolf. It grabs ahold of the mare by the leg and swings her around in the air before throwing her to the ceiling. Her face is frozen in horror as she is impaled on a stalactite.

The last pelter is knocked prone when the wolf slashes at him, taking a non-lethal amount of flesh away. It then snatches the colt, who screams in agony as the claws grip his head. His looks so tiny compared to the beast. So fragile. His head is squeezed like a cherry, his screams escalating until they’re cut short with the morbid sound of muscle and grey matter splattering over the wolf’s arms.

Butcher is trembling as he grips his axe, backing to the edge of the lake. His dripping sweat mixes with the murky water. “Monster...”

For a second, I swear I see the wolf smirk, before it leaps to Butcher in a single bound. Butcher cries out with his voice cracking, making one swing with his axe that only takes a layer of fur from the wolf. It grabs Butcher by the forelegs and slams his flailing form into the ground, then again from behind, and again, and again. It then looks at what remains of Butcher, a blubbering mess of dislocated limbs, bloated eyes and a broken jaw. With one last roar into Butcher’s torn ear, the wolf bites down on his face, tearing it off before chowing down on the rest of his broken form.

When silence finally reigns over the cave, I allow myself to let out the breath I’d been holding throughout that entire bloody display. The wolf hears my breath and approaches me. I avert my eyes, certain that this is the end for me. A bloody, unexplained, nonsensical end.

The wolf brings its claws down on my chains. The magical seal is broken and the shackles fall away in a useless heap. I don’t take the time to relish my freedom, only crawling away from the wolf as I struggle to my hooves, my swords laying useless off to the side.

I cringe in terror at the beast stalking towards me, blood dripping from its bared fangs, claws scraping the dirt. I can smell the copper on its breath as it leans over me, sniffing the air for the scent of my fear...

I dare to open my eyes when nothing happens. No claws or fangs or the silence of death. Instead, it’s... flinching? I look into its eyes, immediately overcome by an odd sense of trust.

“Wolf River, you’re...”

The beast nods as he raises his claws to his lips, wiping away the fresh blood. With that task finished, he hides his fangs. His brow uncurls and lips fall flat upon his muzzle. He slowly approaches, claws tucked away to reassure me that I have nothing to fear. Not that I am anymore, mind. Just... amazed and horrified at the same time.

Only his eyes, still colored the same warm orange, affirm that this is the same stallion that had stood next to me moments ago. I carefully reach out to him, hesitating for only a moment before he presses his cheek against my hoof. His fur is rough, much like how a wild animal’s hide should be.

He growls something that I have to strain my ears to hear properly. “Ly... caaaan...”

Lycan. I have read the stories. Ponies of black hue with the innate power to unleash an inner beast and sate their appetite for blood. If ponies in the Carrier Clan have that same coat...

I withdraw my hoof and back away at the revelation.

The Carrier Clan is a home to lycans.

Relieved that I’m no longer helpless in the face of death, I wrap my forelegs around Wolf River’s beastly muzzle and press my own against it.

This is how far he went for honor. Everything I ever did seems petty by comparison. He sacrificed his own body to such a grotesque enchantment just to prove his worth to the world... To me...

For lack of better judgment, I plant a kiss on his wet nose before letting go.

“So, was the whole point of this to kill Silver Tongue?” I ask.

Wolf River shakes his head. I look back at poor Hilt, his bloodied body still held in an undignified position on the cross.

“Was it to rescue him?”

Wolf River nods, prompting me to lower my head.

“Mission failed.” I look back at the stallion-wolf. “There’s nothing we can do for him now, I guess. We’ll give him his last rites when we return to-”

The door slams open again as another Silver Horseshoe leaps out with his eyes bulging and a tomahawk in hoof. Before Wolf River or I can react, he screams, “DIE, BITCH!” swinging downward with his tomahawk.

I roll to the headless corpse of one of Wolf River’s victims and find a belt of throwing knives on his armor. I grab one of the knives and toss it at the tomahawk colt. It lands dead center in his throat. Choking for air, he stumbles about before losing his balance and falling into the water, staining the murk red with his blood. “What a fool,” I boast.

Wolf River gasps, pointing behind me. “What? What is it?” I turn around, going in a full circle before I realize I’m quite dizzy, everything leaving afterimages as my vision sways. I look back again and realize the problem isn’t behind me. It’s embedded in my back.

“Oh, that’s... inconvenient.” I touch the handle of the tomahawk, moving it slightly. I feel no pain, only the lurch of my flesh shifting as the metallic taste of blood falls on my tongue. I collapse.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

The palace blacksmith is a very disagreeable fellow. He keeps giving me glares of a deathly kind every time I open my mouth, and frankly, I think he could snap me in two if I were to cross him.

“So, he didn’t buy any swords?” I ask.

“For the third time, no,” says the smith as he sets a pair of bracers on the workbench and levitates a hammer to pound them. “He just purchased a mound of steel ore and took off without another word. Didn’t even try to barter.”

“Right, right... Did you see where he went?”

Another glare. “No. Now are you buying, or are you leaving?”

I take the latter.

Searching for a Dragonborn can only stay fun for so long. How hard can it be to find one ripped turquoise earthwalker? When you have conflicting directions from the servants, soldiers and other palace dwellers, the answer is very.

“I believe I saw him traversing the nuns’ quarters.”
“He was loitering by the cafeteria.”
“I caught a glimpse of him at the royal gardens.”

I follow through on every direction I’m pointed in and I’m met with disappointment every time. Eventually, I begin to forget why I’m even trying to find the big bugger. Something having to do with sweetrolls?

The best advice I get comes in the form of the hooded princess, who catches my eye when I see she’s carrying a robe clad Shae over her back.

“A piggyback ride from the gorgeous Princess Celina? Color me green with envy.”

She giggles, nodding to the lavender unicorn. “Shae was just overcome with a light head. She’ll be fine.” Shae stirs, mumbling something about corn under her breath. Celina pets her mane affectionately and she goes quiet. “I guess... you could say I found an unlikely friend in her.”

Unfortunately, my concerns don’t lie with the little mare at the moment. I drop my smile. “Your highness, have you seen Caro anywhere? He seems to have dropped off the face of the world.”

“Yes, actually. I just saw him going towards the lake with Pyro and Ember, uh, two unicorn soldiers.” One of those names is familiar to me. “Why? Is something wrong?”

I don’t answer, instead I rack my brain for where I heard one of those names... Brings back memories of bloodied clothes, an enraged earthwalker and... Jade.

Oh, shit.

Without any courtesy, I spread my wings and leap past the princess, galloping through the palace halls. I ascend a flight of stairs, kicking up the dresses of several nuns in the process, and take the nearest exit into the palace gardens. I send flower petals flying in my wake as I travel into the woods.

I know Caro better than most at this point. He has a blatant disregard for authority and he doesn’t listen to conventional reasoning. Combine that with a sick desire for blood he can only keep under wraps at the best of times, and you’ve got one brutal warrior. If this is the same Pyro that I’m thinking of, this won’t end well for him and his friend, nor Caro, me and Shae.

I channel my inner spider monkey and leap from tree to tree, keeping my steps light just in case my stallion is below. Eventually I make it to the lake.

There’s Caro, with satchel in hoof, washing his face (Finally putting that soap to use). There are no blood stains on the grass or red in the water, so I know he hasn’t done anything nasty... yet. Pyro and... Ember, was it? Yes. They’re both nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Caro didn’t recognize them and just engaged in casual conversation? No, it’s never that simple. I perk up my ears and snap my body closer to the branch, listening in on his words.

“...and then I said, ‘Oatmeal, are you crazy?’”

His orphaned punchline is met with laughter. Pyro and Ember, the same ones from outside Trottingham, emerge from out of view, fully clad in Imperial armor with broadswords over their shoulder. “I agree, mate,” says Ember. “Those prison guards are a riot, ain’t they?”

Caro drapes a wet rag across his neck. “Truly, truly outrageous. But, then again, you can’t expect them to be entirely sane, having to deal with rambunctious criminal scum all day.”

“Speaking of which,” says Pyro, giving Caro a friendly punch to the wither, “congratulations on tackling that Blackwing pegasus. I looked through our records, and it turns out that one in particular has been on our list for a while. He’s quite the skilled assassin.”

“Is that so?”

Give Caro some credit, he’s quite good at feigning stupidity when the situation calls for it, or maybe Pyro and Ember are just incredibly gullible. Like I could be captured that easily...

“So, they’re calling you Dragonborn? What exactly does that mean?” asks Ember.

Caro sighs, laughing as he has to explain this again. He’s been telling his tale ever since we got here. “Okay, okay. I’m a descendant of dragons, and I can understand their language and use their vocal powers without years of training. I also, apparently, have the ability to absorb their souls.”

“Bloody hell,” mutters Pyro. “You don’t learn that in Wintercolt Academy.” He approaches Caro and places his hoof on his wither. “Still, I guess this means Everfree is safe from the beasties. Watch out, scale skins! You have freezing fire? We have the bloody Dragonborn, slayer of monsters!” Caro joins Pyro in a victorious bout of laughter.

Relief begins to wash over me, especially in light of what I expected this to come to. When Caro looked upon those two after what they did to Jade, he looked as though he could grab ahold of Pyro, disarm him of his broadsword, punch him in the jugular so he couldn’t scream, and snap his neck.

Oh, bloody hell, he just did that.

Ember can only stand still with his jaw on the ground. “What the fu-”

Despite being of greater stature, Ember is effortlessly thrown against a nearby tree. Caro pins him to the tree, holding him completely still. He must be under a serious bout of adrenaline. He drags the broadsword across Ember’s neck slowly, cutting only just enough to not strike anything vital.Ember, being a battle hardened soldier, only lets out a few grunts. Knowing Caro, he’ll want to hear him scream... I tense up, dreading what he’ll do next.

Ember moves his free hoof to strike Caro across the chest, knocking him prone as he draws his sword. Caro then does the oddest thing. He stands on his hind legs, spreading his forelegs out and beckoning for Ember to come at him. The soldier obliges, casting a fireball from his horn. Caro sidesteps, falling for the bait as Ember swings his sword into his path. Caro backs away with a gash in his chest. As he begins to bleed, he puts on his sadist face, dabbling his hoof his blood and lapping it up with his forked tongue... forked tongue?! When did that happen?

Ember looks understandably disturbed. He snaps out of his trance and readies his sword again, making a diagonal swing. Caro reaches out, grabbing the flat of the blade, moving down to the hilt and slamming his hooves into Ember’s, forcing him to drop the sword. Caro snatches it from the air.

Now he’s standing on two legs with a broadsword in each hoof, with Ember in a defensive stance before him. Caro leaps into the air, bucking him upside the head. He then raises the swords and slams them into Ember’s forelegs. Now he’s screaming.

Caro‘s sadistic smirk grows wider and more nightmarish. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d find this hilarious!”

“This... isn’t... funny...”

The nightmare face becomes blank and emotionless. That’s even more disturbing. “Lots of things aren’t funny.” Caro rips the swords out of Ember’s forelegs and suplexes the soldier onto his back. With two well placed swings, he weakens his armor. He places his hooves under the seams and rips off Ember’s chestplate. He then proceeds to wail on him, landing precise blows into his chest and stomach until the soldier is blue with bruises.

I have a sinking feeling this can only get worse.

“Lying on the ground, a stallion tearing you apart, unable to do anything to defend yourself, the fear of death looming over your head!” The turquoise earthwalker stops his punching to put on the guise of a damsel in distress. “Oh, Epona! When will this all end?” He grabs Ember by the scruff of his neck. “Sound familiar?!”

Ember‘s eyes, already wide from the pain, open further. “Is... Is this about that Blackwing whore?”

“You finally get it!” Caro yells with pride, sending chills up my spine. From his pouch, he brings out a hunk of steel ore. “Here’s your prize, you depraved bastard!” He raises it over Ember’s head and drops it. A sickening crunch rings out as it shatters Ember’s horn into pieces. Faint espers of magic escape the broken mound on his head as he screams at the sky.

Caro then positions himself over Ember’s body, taking a deep breath. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”

That’s all I can take. I avert my eyes as Ember’s cries of pain escalate and the smell of burning flesh fills the air. Eventually, the screaming dwindles into choking, and finally stops entirely, granting my ears solace.

I then hear metal scraping along the grass, followed by the splash of water. Then another one. Caro must be dumping the soldiers' bodies in the lake. Their armor will drag them down to the bottom. Provided the lake is deep, I doubt their corpses will be found for a long time.

I finally gather the courage to look again and see Caro with a dissonant look of contentment. He hums merrily to himself as he cleans the blood off the broadswords, sheathing them and putting the ore away.

As he walks away from the scene of murder, he licks his lips maliciously with his forked tongue.

I don't know this side of Caro. All I see in him at this moment is a fearsome beast determined to consume all who oppose him.

Like a dragon.