5.1.0 Tempest

The titans roared against the storm, the black skies pregnant with dread purpose. Towering thunderheads fill the sky, wind roars like a thing possessed, and sheets of rain full in torrents. Forked tongues of lightning cleave the sky as they stab the earth, incandescent daggers of eldritch energy. The cacophonous detonation of thunder echoes across the land, as if the very earth was screaming in pain. The temperature drops precipitously, an arctic bite riding the breeze. The land is deserted, desolate; no living thing dares brave the wrath of the roiling thunderhead. No living thing but me, that is. I stand firm against the brutal winds, surveying the devastation being wrought below. The rain pelts my coat, icy rivulets running down my legs. I feel not the chill of the storm, but rather, the power of it. With a single flap of my slate grey wings, I take to the air. In this downpour, I am at home, and at peace. This is why I live.

I am elemental.

I am Tempest.

This storm is a thing alive, feeding and growing more powerful with each passing hour. This force of nature is an extension of my will, bending to my every whim as it roils and rages. I allow myself to be swept around by the screaming winds, surveying my dominion of storms from within. The thunderheads have gone from white, fluffy, and harmless, to massive slate and charcoal anvils, sundering the sky with bolts of lightning. The darkeness was nearly absolute, pierced only briefly by an arc of lightning. In this blackness, the storm raged. The cannonade of thunder and the shriek of the wind mingled with the pelting rain, becoming the voice of the storm. As the downpour grew to become the storm of the century, I smiled. The winds suddenly shifted, its timbre rising. Something was wrong. Lightning forked down from the thunderhead, and I discovered what it was. A streak of blue, trailing a rainbow, was violating my storm.

Never before had there been a creature with the audacity to so much as fly underneath my storms, let alone through the heart of a tempest such as this. My anger flared at this violation of my home, of my temple, but it soon faded away as curiosity creeped in. I wanted to know more about this creature without fear of storms. Cutting across the wind stream, I angled to follow. While I could not see it with my eyes, I knew the creature's exact location. I could read the could, and I could see the wake of its travel. This creature was fast; far faster than I'd initially reckoned. This, however, was of no concern to me, for I am Tempest.

In a flash, I was gone; I'd become one with the lightning as it ionized a channel through the storm, depositing me immediately beside the creature with a tremendous crash of thunder. The colorful creature took no apparent notice of my explosive entrance, focusing as it was on surviving my storm. This creature ducked and weqved to avoid the streaks of lightning that struck at it, demonstrating a remarkable level of agility. In the many years I'd been bringing forth these storms, never had I seen a creature so at home in the air. Truly, I found this creature's prowess to be quite impressive. And yet, as impressive as it may have been, it would not be enough. If this had been any other storm, the creature would have triumphed. Had this been any other creature, it would have succumb and been struck down by the storm long ago. But this was not just any storm, nor was this just any creature. This creature was pitting itself against a force of nature and doing admirably, but the strain was beginning to take its toll. Its movements were growing sluggish, and the lightning strikes creeped ever closer. In must a moment, the arcs were crashing through the air close enough to scorch the creature's tail. The creature yelped in pain and fright, pouring on a short lived burst of speed. The lightning began to close in once more, the creature's fate drawing inexorably nearer.

Such a valiant struggle from such a colorful creature, all brought to a sudden end with a flash of light and a crash of thunder.

No, not this one.

I would not smite this daring creature, nor would I permit this storm to bring it harm. Bending the storm to my will, I halted the lightning's advance, deflecting the bolts from their course. The creature was not yet safe, but was freed from immediate mortal peril. The winds yet howled though, and the rain drove like arctic nails, each conspiring to bring tis creature to its end. As the lightning began to fade away, the creature seemed to relax slightly, beginning to find rhythm amidst the gusts. Despite the fact that I was flying directly adjacent to the creature, it had failed to notice my presence, though this was not unusual. My element was the storm, and its darkness enfolded me as the arms of a lover. In the anvil above, lightning arced again, affording me my first good look at the creature.

The sight of the creature momentarily shocked me, calling forth unbidden memories of times long passed. I was assaulted with images and faces; the sights, sounds, and smells of another world ricocheting around in my skull. I suddenly recognized this creature as a pegasus, and as a female. The meaning of these terms, as well as the place from whence they'd come, was a mystery to me. Even so, I knew without a doubt that these terms were correct. The memories assaulted every one of my senses like so many bolts of lightning, momentarily overwhelming me with sensory overload. A moment was all it took for the storm to strike. Unrestrained, a quintet of bolts lanced from above, five fingers of death reaching to grasp a single target. The creature, this female pegasus, managed to dodge all but one. The flash of plasma and the roiling concussion that followed this sundering jolted me back into clarity. I lurched back into my own mind just in time to see a streak of blue spiraling downward out of the storm cloud, trailing not a rainbow, but smoke.

In homage to the duality of all things, it would be a bolt of lightning that came to her aid. In a flash I was once more by her side, though this time was different. This time, I reached out towards her limp form, pulling it into my embrace. I nearly recoiled from the contact, as the searing heat radiating from her body scorched me. Only the icy rain served to dull the pain to bearable levels, allowing me to hold her still. It was not me, but the storm which gave voice to my agony. Dozens of bolts struck down from the sky as the tempest loosed a fusillade of eldritch arrows. The roar of thunder echoed for what seemed to be hours as I searched for someplace, any place to set down my burden and be free of the torment it brought. Spotting an alcove in a nearby cliff face, I strove towards it with all my might. The flight seemed to take hours as I endured the agony. How long had it been since I'd felt pain? Felt anything? The burning sensation was nearly unbearable, and the storm above thrashed in our shared agony.

As the storm built its strength to new peaks, a funnel cloud began to descend from the roiling mass above. Within my chest, a horrible feeling began to stir in the instant before I collided with the floor of the cave. As I slammed into the floor of the cave, I was party to yet another terrible and alien sensation; unconsciousness.

The legend of Tempest

Legend has it that the little pegasus was born to earth pony parents in a small town near the Everfree, in the middle of the worst storm in living memory. This was back in the days before the unification, when the weather still ran wild over most of the land. From the moment of his birth, the colt had been fascinated by these storms, and would often catch a cold from standing outside to watch them pass. It was no surprise that he got his mark early, a storm cloud with lightning bolts crossing a funnel cloud. The boy was a loner, preferring to sit alone and watch the weather than converse with others. Even so, most would say that he had a pretty average life. That is, up until his tenth birthday.

Those who remember it refer to it as the day that never came. At dawn, the eastern sky blazed blooded red, briefly illuminating the clouds that hung like an obsidian curtain across the sky before disappearing behind them. It was as if night had fallen once more, and the townsfolk had to use lanterns just to get around. The atmosphere was deathly still, stirring not so much as a blade of grass. By noon, the only indication that the sun had risen at all was the sickly green light that managed to filter through the clouds. Just after noon, it was as if a switch had been thrown. The wind began to pick up, and the rain began to fall in sheets. In the span of two hours, every soul in town had barricaded themselves in their home to ride out the storm. There was one pony, however, that wanted the opposite.

The boy begged and pleaded with his mother to be let outside, to be allowed to see the storm as it unleashed its fury. She absolutely refused to allow this, fearing that the storm would be the death of him should he be caught in it. Angered and defiant, he stormed up to his room and snuck out of the window, in spite of his mother's warnings. When his mom came to talk to him about his actions and discovered him missing, she raced out into the storm after him, raising the alarm throughout the town. Only a few of the bravest ponies in town rose to the call. They searched the town high and low, finding no sign of the colt. The search was about to be abandoned when a bolt of lightning revealed a figure silhouetted atop a nearby ridge. The rescuers ran towards the hill, racing the storm for the colt.

The colt himself was sitting on the ridge, his eyes glued straight up. As the rescuers mounted the base of the hill, there arose a terrible roar, a scream unlike anything they'd ever heard before or since. Arcing with crackling bolts of electricity, a funnel cloud began to descend directly over the colt. Everypony froze in their tracks, paralyzed by terror. The funnel snaked downward, stopping some distance above the ground. Without warning, a singularly massive bolt of lightning struck straight down from within the center of the cyclone, striking the colt with deadly precision. The air crackled with arcane energy as the bolt refused to recede; for what seemed like an eternity, the bolt lingered. As suddenly as it had come, the lightning flared blindingly and vanished. The roar of the thunder shattered every widow in town, and was heard in the next town. A single massive arc of electrical energy could be seen hopping from cloud to cloud as it raced towards the horizon.

It was as if that single bolt had stolen away the entire fury of the storm; for, immediately after it streaked away, the funnel cloud began to fade and recede. The winds began to die, and the rain lightened to a mere downpour. The search party became a recovery party as they trudged up the hill to collect the remains of the young colt. What they found came as a shock to them all... or rather, what they didn't find. The ground was scorched and blackened, but there was no body to be found, not even a fragment.

Some of the villagers believe that the colt who loved the storms so had been taken up by them, chosen to be the embodiment of their wrath; their architect. Some even claim that the storms behaved strangely after that fateful day. Legend holds that the colt had become what he'd loved most, and that his spirit lived on within the greatest of storms. And so it was in remembrance of the colt who loved them so that they christened the storms of legend with the colt's name: Tempest.

Author's Notes:

This is the pilot for (yet another) side story. Feedback is welcome.