In Breif: A Lack of Context
That primordial darkness is something you sit in for a long, long time. It's a weird ride out of consciousness into the womb of your own mind, but it's good here. It's warm here. What is a "you"? That's not a problem anymore. It's dark, it's warm. No eldritch horrors can get you here. No far flung missions of vengeance to spoil the moment or tear a hole in everything you know. Ain't this the life?
But then there's a screeching pain that wracks the silence and attacks the brain. It sounds like the wailing of some ungodly beast that exists only to hurt you. To end your comfort, and the first virgin shafts of light have come to annoy you and hound you.
It's too late, you're being pulled by the teeth into that horrible consciousness. And the smell, oh Celestia, what is that SMELL. There's the feeling of something slimy on your forelegs as you struggle against the bright light of day. Where are you? What is this horrible new existence? Why, Celestia strike you through the dick with her horn, why did you have to wake up?
No. Why. Why are you making you do this. Pain. Stop. This is awful. You don't want to wake up. This is awful. This is terrible. This is the worst. You're evil for making you do this. You are your worst enemy. You hate you. Stop. Stop making you get up. You can barely feel your hooves. Your... Wait... Where are your hooves? You feel your wrist move, but there's... More joints on the end? You jolt awake, the light shining on you as you lay in a bin filled with scum and garbage. You look down. It's worse than you thought. You scream.
You know what, voice in your head? YOU'RE RIGHT! You need to get a hold of yourself! You stand up, look down... and-
SPEAKING OF- You pick up the nearly empty wine bottle. This is CLEARLY a priority. It's time to remember. You were a HORSE. You were sent to kill a mutated monstrosity. Granted, that was because you owed a dragon money, but that's less important now. You don't know where you are. Your head hurts. YOU WERE A HORSE.
You are a raccoon wearing a bright orange bomber jacket that is a little too big on you. Currently, you are standing in a dumpster which is weirdly illustrated compared to your surroundings. One of the bags almost looks like a face, but that could be whatever dimensional magics brought you here to this horrible existence in a body that does not belong to you. It is at this point you realize you don't remember your name.
This feels
like
a perfectly reasonable reason
TO PANIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!1!!11!!11!
YES! WAIT. YOU FEEL IT. THE POWER OVERFLOWING WITHIN YOU. IT'S-
HURGHR
Beginning
Previous | Next
