you could be my move

You Spin Me Round

Аннотация от автора:

I loved Rarity in her detective outfit.  I realized that she had a potential foe already in the show: Cheerilee.  Her 'Smooth Criminal' hat gave me the perfect excuse to create a little cat n' mouse game with our resident ponies. 

Frenetic.  The past two days were just that.  She was hot on my tail and no matter what I did I just could not shake her.  By now I’m sure she has a good idea of who it is she's pursuing.  Not that I’d stop to ask her.  No, my only goal was to stay one step ahead of her, literally and figuratively.  But Sweet Celestia, she was making it difficult.

This whole mess began a week ago.  I had stopped in Twilight’s castle to borrow a book.  The princess was out so I spoke to her assistant.  Spike took my request with all the enthusiasm and attention of baked potato learning calculus.  I had clearly interrupted some other task or activity of his.  Now, either I misinterpreted the rules on returning the book or he simply offered a shoddy explanation.  That remains to be determined.

I took the book, expecting to return it in two weeks’ time.  Somehow, none of that was not conveyed to Twilight. 

I had taken the book with me when I had gone to visit a friend in Canterlot.  It was there that I discovered that I was a suspect. I overheard gossip at a local cafe: One of the princess's favorite books had been stolen.  Well isn't that just fine?  I retreated to my hotel room, paranoid that everypony knew I was a fugitive.  I paced, trying to calm myself.  I looked out the window.  Then I saw her.  In the square below she stood out quite well in her detective outfit.  That silly thing.  Yet I knew she meant business.  I left in haste.         

I would be remiss if I failed to mention that I am wholly unaccustomed to being pursued in such a manner.  Yet here I am, racing through dank alleyways in a part of Canterlot barely fit for Diamond Dogs.  The posh and glamour of the city during the day dissipated into a fog of debauchery and grime during the night.  How quaint. What worried me more than the grim and shady characters was that I found enjoyment in being chased.  There was a thrill that teaching just couldn't provide. 

I found I had to do more than just keep moving.  Like a changeling at a costume party, I had to be everypony.  Disguises became my friends.  This little getup you see here is quite fetching, if I'm being honest.  But fashion talk will have to wait.  At this point I simply want to get back to Twilight before Rarity can find me.  Then I'd win.

I could easily explain the situation to Twilight.  She's amenable and forgiving of misunderstanding.  Rarity, however, would be less likely to believe such a tale.  Congenial and understanding is her natural state.  When she plays detective, however, she becomes less hospitable to stories and alibis, no matter their veracity. I’m not allowing myself to be turned in like some common criminal.  Therefore, I run.

Their Stories

"Hey young man. This is not the closest way to the Bulgewater County. You better choose the west road of the Wisteria Crossroad."
"Oh look at this thick skin. Everybody's waiting for their turn and now you want to get buried in such nice place far far away?
Hey, you better go to my grave plot. It's much closer and so beautifu..."
"I heard your goddamned hometown story for hundreds of times that my ossicles almost worn out, ma'am.
Why don't we just shut up for this painful journey? You can have some talks with the devils after burial."
"Your sister's pelvis was so huge that even three baby skulls could go through the hole."
"That bastard is talking shit again. I heard he was mental and still barking like a dog even after brain fluid dried out."
"My jaw! Where is my jaw! I can't eat without my jaw!"
"His jaw was gone sucking dragon dick."
"This rude boy is ignoring me again! I told you Bulgewater County is not this way..."

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They Talk Too Much

"I told you not to go this way."
"Hey lad. Your fighting stance is awkward as hell."
"Your mama's tit was so huge that her ribs were bent."
"He's so nice as always. Drop me off here."
"We're dead! We're all dead. All because of that stupid gravekeeper!"
"Where is my jaw?"
"When I was young, I found no monsters as ugly as this one."

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They Still Talk

"Amazing, lad! Transforming our remains into spirit form, what a magic!"
"If I didn't know you, i would have thought that you were trying to kill us all! I know this sort of sorcery, and they use this spell to destroy the undeads."
"Your mama's spine is so bent that you can use it in math class as protractor."
"Good to be together as always. It's hard to find nice lad like this fellow these days."
"Where is my jaw? I can't find my jaw!"
"Huh! You call this a magic! Back in my days..."
"Hey young man, do you even hear me?"

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Take Them Please

"Mortal. I ask you to yield one of those heads."
"I can't."
"You cherish life of the deads more than yours? How touching."
"No really. I can't."

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Put Your Hand on My Shoulder

"Hey young lad. You're just passing by that poor giant's body and you call yourself a gravekeeper?"
"Knock it off you bloody dotard."
"Haha! We heard you talking back to our word! Today's a special day!"

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The Protectors

I hear dead people.
And they never fxxking shut up.

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Dead Men Tell A Lot of Tales

"That's a mighty fine necromancy, summoning the dead severed arm!"
"And he didn't raise us from dead with such skill."
"Where is my jaw."
"If we knew he could do that we would've never apologized him."
"I mean, it's pretty absurd to blame us for dragging monster's attention by our chatter. It's monster that cut off his arm, not us."

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Manga Style Necromancy

"Fight with me."
"Wait, we never agreed that."
"I will never forget you."
"I said we never agreed that."
"SOUL CRUSHER."
"You motherf-."

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"Your Move, Old Man."

"Look at that ruddy bastard grabbing old man's head."
"Where is my jaw."
"Back in my days, even rudest of all showed respect to the elders.
Kids these days ignore the aged men and their wisdom.
Back in my days, no one would've allowed this to happen.
The kings had to get off their horse to salute me on the road."
"When yer mom rolled on the pen with the pigs."
"Where is my fxxking jaw, you bloody ruffians."

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Necro-man

Even though the sword is broken dead, I can call its soul back.
Arm is the most basic type of shield.
My revived arm will be a shield.
This is my necromancy.

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Starved Pistol of Diliworth

Starved Pistol of Diliworth.
One of the haunted relics made by infamous weapon inventor Godin Elwiv of Eldrian two centuries ago.
The soul of people who were killed by him is stored inside.
Danger Rank High. Never touch.
P.S. My dear pupil who never ever read nor listen to my words.
I leave this postscript for I thought you would've ignore that warning.
At least don't fire this pistol twice.
The chance of it taking user's soul increases geometrically on the second fire.

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Hellblade

"Old man. Sword."
"Arfwgerraworf"

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You Must Fly

"Damn, I'm terribly sorry lady.
This is what my necromancy do.
Look at my arm. Revived in strange form of my true nature.
I guess your soul looks like a fish, swimming freely in the air.
At least you can fly instead of having normal leg oh what the hell am I talking about. I'm really...
Oh... Uh... I guess you like it.
Thank you."

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One is Gone

My masters, all six of them, told me not to talk to the deads.
The deads never come back to life. That's undeniable truth. The truth that people left behind want to deny so much.
The soul of the dead leaves this world over the curtain of our realm forever.
What we call ghost is just an embodiment of remaining thought, emotion, or memory of the deads.
That's why they cannot talk normally, always want though need nothing, and stick to something obstinately.
It is difficult to remove them peacefully unless you follow certain rules and process originated from the deceased.
The deads are not the ones you knew.
Now I can understand why they taught me that over and over again.
It is obvious how I'll react to the false hallucination of my masters when they pass away.

My favorite move

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