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This is a story that's been brewing in my mind for a long time, and I finally found the inspiration to work further on it!
Based on my characters from this piece (fav.me/dbrpkxd) drawn by the ever-awesome Mellowhen (http://www.furaffinity.net/user/mellowhen), this chronicles an adventure with the hardy Equestrian explorer, Tough Cookie, and her stoic partner, Syntax, taking place between Seasons 8 and 9 of MLP. Enjoy! =) (Smile)
MLP:FiM is property of Lauren Faust and Hasbro
Note: The door puzzle in this chapter was based off the scene at the entrance to the Mines of Moria in The Fellowship of the Ring, and the Old Ponish I used is based off this guide from FIMFiction by TimeLoad.
https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/771.....eak-old-ponish
Stage one of the operation had come off just as smoothly as planned. In the wee hours of the morning, long before many ponies would even be thinking of waking up, Cookie, though still very drowsy herself, met Syntax outside of the Tomes, her saddlebags packed for the journey. With Curios bearing a notice that it’d be closed for an undisclosed period of time, and with Paige set to take care of the Tomes in her employer’s absence, the two made their way to the Canterlot port, boarding a private airship that Syntax had hired, and which was expected to take them back again once they had accomplished their goal. No creature but the birds would be witnesses to their departure, and to all appearances in Canterlot, the two would just be off on another expedition to parts unknown.
“I never get tired of this feeling,” said Cookie with relish, as she walked the gangplank onto the deck. “The two of us, getting away from sitting behind dull desks all day, putting the stuffy air of Canterlot behind us, setting out for new discoveries to wow the public with. It makes me feel…uplifted, free.”
“As light as a feather?” Syntax asked.
“Actually, yeah.”
“Well, that’s quite an accomplishment, for a mare of your size. Perhaps I can rest easy knowing you won’t weigh the ship down and slow us up.”
“Like I couldn’t see that joke coming a mile away,” said Cookie, sarcastically. “Let’s just ship out, ok, Captain Snark?”
“As you wish,” said Syntax, doffing his hat in a mock bow. “Full steam ahead for the Badlands.”
And so, with Syntax at the helm, the ship left the Canterlot port, with the sun only just rising, and the adventurous duo were on their way.
The noonday sun was high and hot in the sky, and Cookie was just about to ask, for the umpteenth time, if they were there yet, when at last, they came upon their destination, as indicated by the map Syntax had so scrupulously kept hidden. It was a secluded spot in the middle of the desert, tucked away at the foot of a lone mountain. There, with the geological giant looming overhead, the airship touched down, and the pair disembarked.
“It’s lucky you studied piloting, Tax,” said Cookie. “Otherwise, we’d have to deal with a lot of awkward questions for another pilot about where we were going or what we’d be doing.”
“Agreed,” said Syntax. “Under circumstances of the greatest secrecy, it does best to create as few witnesses as possible.”
“Sheesh, the way you talk, you’d think we were criminals trying to hide a stash of loot.”
“You were the one who started the conversation with bringing up awkward questions.”
“And I’ll end said conversation by asking where the entrance is.”
Syntax drew out the map.
“If my readings are correct, and they always are, the entrance to the tomb should be at the foot of this peak, on the eastern side. We’ve landed on the eastern side, so it shouldn’t be far from here. Come along, and keep an eye out.”
They started walking from the airship, heading closer to the peak, while looking this way and that for any sign of an entrance. The wind blew fitfully as they moved under the shade of the mountain, ruffling Cookie’s mane. Even then, and even with the mountain looming over them, temporarily blocking the sun, the air was still hot and dry. The sooner they found the way in and got out of the heat, the better.
Suddenly, Syntax came to a halt, so that Cookie bumped into him.
“Oof! What?” she asked, sharply.
“I see it! There!” said Syntax.
Cookie’s annoyance vanished in an instant. She looked eagerly where Syntax was pointing. Standing between a pair of cacti, a sizable mound of rock sat before them. A square section had been cut into it, and covering it was a smooth stone slab, like a door. Cookie raised an eyebrow.
“You sure that’s it?” she asked. “Doesn’t look very impressive.”
“I’m positive,” said Syntax. “It matches the appearance of the entrance on the map. That’s the doorway to the tomb that, if the legends are true, holds the fabled Scrolls of Equus.”
The two approached the solitary stone, Cookie still looking skeptical.
“I’m just saying,” she said, “for a place that’s meant to hide such a priceless treasure, it looks pretty ordinary.”
“Well, if it was more grand and impressive, it would stand out, and would be discovered too easily,” said Syntax, “and what civilization is that keen for their well-kept treasures to be found by the common pony?”
“All right, all right, point taken.”
“Now, the only question is, how do we open the door?” Syntax mused.
“Good point,” said Cookie, squinting at the slab. “I don’t see a keyhole or anything.”
Both unicorns began examining the door and the rock wall supporting it, trying to find some indication of how to enter, peering closely here, tapping with their hooves there, directing the magic in their horns elsewhere. Of course, as Syntax said, somepony who was particularly determined to safeguard their treasure wouldn’t give up their secrets so easily. It wasn’t as though they would leave a placard proclaiming directions to finding a key, or spelling out an ancient password for all to see.
“Aha!” cried Syntax, suddenly. “Cookie, over here!”
Cookie came plodding over, looking excited. Syntax was rubbing away at a spot of rock beside the door. Beneath a layer of dirt, they could see miniscule words etched into the stone, small enough to fit on a postage stamp.
“This could very well be the clue we’d been seeking,” said Syntax. “It’s been written here so long that, had it not caught the eye of one with attention to detail, it would have remained undiscovered. And even in its day, the lettering is so minute that it would very well be taken for mere scratchings on the surface.”
“Well, don’t just sit there, Mr. Tedious,” said Cookie, jostling him impatiently. “Translate it! See what it says!”
“I’m getting there,” said Syntax, irritably. “You could show a little appreciation for how well-hidden it was. It’s a mark of the originator’s ingenuity.”
“I’ll better appreciate how brainy and clever and whatever else they were after we get in. Now make with the translate!”
Syntax sighed, muttering under his breath, then directed his horn at the text on the stone. His horn glowed dark-blue, and the glow surrounded the letters as well. As though being displayed on a projector, the words, surrounded by a square border of Syntax’s aura, grew outwards until they were clearly visible, large enough to read from a distance.
“Looks cool every time you do that,” said Cookie, appreciatively.
Syntax smirked, in spite of himself, then peered at the letters before him, his brow furrowed.
“Odd. The words are written in Old Ponish, but the language is that of the Eastern Unicorns.”
Cookie tilted her head and squinted at the lettering.
“Really? I’ve never heard of anypony using somepony else’s language in their alphabet.”
“Oh, it can happen, but it’s very rare. The few times I’ve seen it have been when the writer was desirous to hide a message’s true meaning by throwing the translator for a loop. Well,” Syntax added, with a touch of pride, “there has never been a cryptogram that I could not decode in the end.”
Cookie grinned. It always made her happy whenever Syntax was happy, with him being such a stoic pony naturally.
“So, what does it say?” she asked.
“It says, ‘The sound of a friend will see you through.’”
Cookie raised an eyebrow.
“The sound of a friend? Does it mean it’ll open if it knows it can trust you like a friend?”
“I’m not sure,” muttered Syntax. “If that’s the case, it’s up to the discretion of whatever monitors this tomb’s defenses whom it allows to pass.”
“And since we’re here to find a hidden treasure, I can’t exactly count myself a friend of the tomb, now can I?” asked Cookie, grimly.
“Nor can I, frankly,” said Syntax. “But we may as well give it a try.”
He stood squarely before the door, head held high, and spoke, loud and clear, “Patoffnen! (Open!)”
Nothing happened. The stone remained unmoved.
“Very well,” said Syntax. “Then, perhaps, if the language is that of the Eastern Unicorns, it desires an answer in that tongue.”
He cleared his throat, and said, loudly and clearly, “Kaisuo! (Unlock!)”
Nothing happened. The door may as well have been a piece of the wall, for all the movement it made. Syntax frowned.
“I see,” he said. “It’s not simply a matter of speaking in one tongue or the other. This warrants thinking about.”
Cookie sat on her haunches, pouting thoughtfully. Syntax sat down as well, looking deep in thought himself. For several minutes, they sat in silence, but though a sudden new brainwave unknit Syntax’s brow a few times, it would just as quickly reknit again as the wave passed. As for Cookie, she was utterly stumped. Exploration in the physical sense was more of her speed. Riddles and puzzles were more Syntax’s specialty, so she felt lost.
“I still don’t get what the connection with the Eastern Unicorns is,” mused Cookie at last. “Did they have something to do with Old Equestria?”
“That I cannot say,” said Syntax. “They are, assuredly, an ancient race of pony, from the days of Mistmane, and powerfully magical. Perhaps something in their spellwork is relevant to the safeguarding of this tomb.”
“Well, then, maybe there’s something different in the clue if it’s in another language. ‘The sound of a friend will see you through’.”
Syntax put his hoof to his chin again, thinking.
“‘The sound of a friend will see you through’...”
He began to mutter under his breath, speaking in different languages. Cookie let him carry on, partly because she didn’t want to break his concentration, and partly because she couldn’t understand a lick of anything but pidgin scraps of certain languages. Having Syntax as a best friend hadn’t yet let the fruits of his talent absorb into her mind.
Suddenly, Syntax jumped to his hooves, his face lit up.
“Of course! It’s brilliant! Cookie, you’ve done it this time!”
Cookie stared, perplexed.
“What did I do?” she asked.
Syntax faced the door and spoke, loud and clear, “Rijan!” There was a rumbling sound. The stone slab shifted, and then slid upward, vanishing completely, revealing a square hole. Cookie’s jaw dropped.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I thought about what you said, Cookie,” said Syntax, “about the disparity between the lettering and the language, so I ran the same phrase in my mind in the language of the Eastern Unicorns. It’s a much more literal translation: ‘The sound of the word ‘friend’ will show you the way’. As in, say the word ‘friend’, and the door will open. However, it had to be spoken in Old Ponish. Therein lies the subtlety in the linguistic double-play: the alphabet was still Old Ponish, so the answer would still be Old Ponish. Quite ingenious!”
“Wow,” said Cookie, amazed. “That’s definitely something I never would’ve pieced together. Nice going, Syntax.”
“All thanks to your choice of words, my dear Cookie.”
Cookie blushed at this compliment. Syntax approached the doorway, lowering his head and lighting his horn as he peered inside.
“The door’s rather small,” he said, “but the chamber widens on the inside. Mind yourself, Cookie,” he added, looking back at her.
Cookie rolled her eyes.
“We deal with this all the time on these spelunks, Tax,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
Syntax shrugged, bent down low, and crawled inside. Naturally, for a stallion of his lean stature, it was easy enough for him to creep in, but a mare like Cookie was another story. One look from her plump physique to the small doorway would’ve been enough to cast doubt in any reasonable mind, but the mare herself wasn’t hesitating at all, and was right behind her companion.
Bending down, so that her belly actually touched the ground, Cookie began to shimmy into the hole herself. It was dark inside, but Syntax had already lit his horn to study the map, so she did the same. The chamber was indeed spacious on the inside, and up ahead, she could see a tunnel that led onward, the only way ahead.
As she edged forward, slipping her head and forelegs through, she began to feel a tightening sensation around her barrel. She frowned, then continued forward, wriggling a little, until,
“Oomph!”
Her cheeks puffed up as she felt a great discomfort right at her middle. Outside, her plump gut had completely swallowed up the little hole, and was now pressing up against the rocky aperture, denying her entrance. Cookie gave a hard push with both sets of legs, straining to budge through, before she was forced to stop, no further inside than before. Inside, Syntax sighed.
“I do wish we didn’t have to go through this every time” he muttered.
“Hey!” snapped Cookie, still struggling to squeeze through. “Is it -mmph- my fault that these -rrgh- ancient ponies made their -oof- doors so small?”
“I could easily pass through,” said Syntax. “I believe the problem is that the door was not made for a pony of your ‘ample proportions’.”
“Oh, like ponies my size didn’t exist back then,” snorted Cookie.
“That wasn’t my point.”
Cookie took a deep breath, trying to suck her gut in as much as possible, and gave another great heave. Her face slowly turned red, both from the strain of pushing and from holding her breath in. However, at last, with a lurch, she felt herself budge forward, so that her paunch now bulged out around the hole on the inside. In consequence, she could feel her rump wedge itself into place. She paused to take a breather, panting from all the exertion.
“You know, Cookie,” said Syntax, “you’re reminding me very vividly of a story I heard in my youth. It was about a silly bear who went to visit a rabbit in his hole, and ate too much honey.”
“Oh, shut up,” grumbled Cookie.
She braced her hooves against the wall behind her and gave a hard push. She strained, heaved, and shoved with all the strength she had, but after a few minutes’ exertion, she had made no headway, and was as tightly stuck as before.
“Would you care for some help?” Syntax asked, in a tone that wasn’t without sincerity.
“No thanks,” said Cookie, flatly. “I’d rather not make you throw out your back trying to pull me through.”
While some might take this to be a patronizing, ironic statement pointed at Syntax’s slender and slightly gangly frame, the learned linguist knew Cookie better than that. He felt sure she was saying this to mean she didn’t want him to injure himself because of her own fault. That was one of the oddities of Tough Cookie: sometimes, when she said something, she meant it in a different way than seen at face value, and which only someone as close with her as he was could understand.
Cookie had resumed trying to push herself through, twisting her rotund frame as she tried to squeeze in. Meanwhile, her bottom remained obstinately stuck on the outside, and what was more, thin cracks began to form around the edges of the hole. It seemed that the pressure of an overweight mare trying to fit through a hole patently too small for her was testing the limits of the aperture. Syntax observed this, but said nothing. Cookie, seeing nothing, continued to strain and push against her geological prison.
At last, with a cracking, crumbling noise, the hole in the rock actually gave way, and Cookie’s rump slipped inside, followed by her back legs. Her waist and hips aching, she stood up and looked at the hole, now more roughly-shaped from that experience, as well as the small pile of pebbles that had accumulated due to the reshaping.
“I don’t know how you do it,” said Syntax, looking mildly impressed, “but you always manage to get yourself out in the end.
Cookie grinned.
“Ha. I wouldn’t be called ‘Tough Cookie’ if I gave up, now would I?”
“I suppose not. Well, shall we proceed?”
“Let’s.”
With that, the two started off down the passage that lay before them, deeper into the tomb.
Neither pony dared to speak much as they walked along, their horns lit, looking about at the tunnel before and around them. The total silence, apart from the sound of their hooves on the rocky floor, or the swish of water as they quenched their thirst with their canteens, was eerie and ominous. It was as though it was something physical, something tangible, something that ought not to be disturbed. Of course, Cookie and Syntax had experienced it before, but it never grew any less creepy.
The tunnel continued on a steady, unbroken path, deeper and deeper downward, with no immediate sign of an approach end. There weren’t even any paths branching off from their tunnel. There were, however, tiny gaps and holes in the walls, which brought rats, scorpions, and snakes crawling through them to mind, which wasn’t comfortable thinking in an oppressively quiet atmosphere.
“How long does this tunnel go on?” Cookie asked in a whisper, which echoed nonetheless.
“I’m not certain,” Syntax whispered back. “The map only has the general layout of the tomb. It doesn’t include measurements of distance.”
Almost as soon as they had discussed the matter, as though the tomb itself had been waiting for it to be addressed, the tunnel leveled out, and the two suddenly found themselves in a new chamber.
At first glance, it looked completely empty. A door lay ahead on the far side, and the floor was elaborately tiled. Each section was set with a different pattern, and the patterns themselves were each their own color: red, yellow, green, and blue.
“This looks pretty easy,” said Cookie, looking about.
“Yes...too easy,” muttered Syntax. “This must mean something.”
Cookie’s eyes, still scoping out the room, suddenly widened and sparkled. “Tax, look there!” she cried, pointing forward.
Syntax followed her gaze, and saw that a square section towards the back of the room was made of blank stone, surrounded by a border of green tiles. Sitting within it, on a carved pedestal, was a statue made of green crystal, shaped like a serpentine dragon balanced on its tail. Syntax adjusted his glasses and peered at it, frowning.
“Another treasure? I was under the impression that the Scrolls were the only items of interest in this tomb. I don’t recall reading anything about a dragon statue being here. I might be able to identify it, if I could get a closer look.”
“Well, don’t worry about that,” said Cookie, confidently. “I’m on it.” So saying, she stretched her leg out towards the tile immediately before her, set with a blue pattern.
“Cookie, wait!” said Syntax, sharply.
Too late. Cookie placed her hoof firmly on the tile, which sank down into the floor. At the same instant, something made a clicking noise from above. There was a sharp whizzing sound, and Cookie drew her hoof back with a yelp, just in time for several arrows to strike the tile, exactly where her hoof had been. The plump mare gulped, looking from the arrows to her partner, who was looking serious.
“That was far too close,” he said. “I knew it looked too easy, and you should have realized it too, or at least had the courtesy to wait when I told you to.”
Cookie gave Syntax a sour look.
“You’re the one who wanted a closer look at that statue,” she grumbled.
“Not if it meant springing a trap,” countered Syntax. “You should know better.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a filly,” Cookie snapped. “How was I supposed to know?”
“Why didn’t you at least try to move it from a distance with your magic?”
Cookie opened her mouth, then closed it again. She hadn’t considered that. She directed her magic at the statue and tried to grab it, but it was too far away for her to get a good grip on it. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, her aura only flickered feebly around it, not enough to pick it up. Sighing in frustration, she sat back on her haunches, casting a longing look at the statue, as it glimmered tantalizingly in the light of their horns.
“At least that didn’t trigger anything further,” said Syntax. “Let’s consider these tiles and see what we can glean from them. They may lend a clue to how to traverse this floor safely.”
“And get that statue,” Cookie added.
“And get that statue,” echoed Syntax, dryly. “Now, let’s see.”
He levitated a stone sitting on the floor, and placed it on another blue tile. It sank as well, and more arrows rained down on it, making Cookie wince. Next, Syntax placed the same stone on a red tile. It sank, and this time, a barrage of darts shot from the left and right walls, whizzing through the air over the tile. Cookie gulped. Syntax then placed the stone on a yellow tile. This time, neither arrows or darts shot at the spot, but the pattern on the tile glowed white, and an intense heat emanated from it, creating a momentary haze until the stone was removed.
“Sheesh,” Cookie muttered. “Have to give them points for creativity.”
“I’m detecting a pattern with these tiles,” said Syntax, thoughtfully. “Each color corresponds to a different trap when pressure is applied to it. Blue shoots arrows, red releases darts, and yellow produces heat.”
“Which means the green ones are safe to step on,” said Cookie, with a new surge of confidence. “Nice process of elimination, Tax.”
She started to step forward again, but Syntax held out a hoof to stop her.
“Not necessarily,” he said. “You can’t be too certain.”
He levitated the stone again, and laid it on a green tile. Rather than sinking down gradually, it fell open like a trapdoor, and the stone disappeared into a dark abyss below. Cookie stared in disbelief.
“You see?” Syntax said.
“But then none of them are safe to step on!” Cookie protested. “So what do we do?! How do we get across?!”
“Puzzling indeed,” mused Syntax. “It’s rare that I meet a puzzle where every answer is a wrong one, which must mean there’s something we overlooked…”
He looked around the chamber from top to bottom, but apart from the pebbles and stones littering the floor, there was nothing but the tiles and the statue. There wasn’t even any writing inscribed with instructions. Cookie paced back and forth impatiently, biting her lip as she tried to think as well, casting more glances at the inaccessible statue, which still twinkled invitingly.
“Stop mocking me,” she muttered at it. “You know I’d love nothing more than to snatch you up and bring you back to the shop, but you’ve gotta be difficult about it, don’t you?”
“Arguing with something that can’t argue back isn’t going to make this any easier, Cookie,” said Syntax, without even looking at her.
Cookie huffed and kept pacing.
“We can’t just be stranded here,” she said. “The ponies who built this temple would wanna make sure the traps worked, so they had to have a way to go in and out.”
Syntax’s gaze roved around the chamber again, this time focusing on the floor, and as he looked at it more and more, his brow began to unknit.
“I wonder…” he muttered.
Cookie stopped pacing.
“Got something?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I see no other option under the present circumstances. If none of the tiles can be trusted, then it only stands to reason that we circumvent them altogether.”
Cookie raised a puzzled eyebrow.
“I hope you don’t mean we make a jump for it, cuz neither one of us can leap that far.”
“I wouldn’t chance that, no. What I mean is, we make our way around the tiles. There’s a perimeter of the floor that isn’t made of tiles that leads to the opposite door. You see?”
He pointed out a section of bare stone that lay before the tiles began, and which wound its way in a square around them, along the walls and to the door. Cookie looked dubiously at it.
“I dunno, Tax. That’s not a lot of room to go on four legs. What if we lose our balance and hit a tile?”
“If necessary, we’ll edge our way along the walls on our hind legs. Unless we wait to sprout wings or learn self-levitation, Cookie, there’s no other way across.”
Cookie groaned, but didn’t argue further.
So, taking careful steps, so as not to trigger one of the tiles, Syntax began a slow, gradual walk along the perimeter of the chamber, looking perfectly composed, yet determined. Cookie followed, but with far less confidence than her partner. It was easy enough for him to keep to the walls on all fours, being so skinny. Cookie’s side and hip brushed against the stone as she moved along, barely able to walk at all, with her legs clamped as close together as she could muster, her belly squished in between.
It got to the point where she did have to stand up on her hind legs, with her back braced against the wall, shimmying and shuffling her way along. She moved a bit quicker in this way, but in this position, she couldn’t even see where her hooves were past her paunch, and she was not at all comfortable with having her curvy backside brush against the cold stone behind her. All the while, she kept looking back at the statue, as it drew ever closer.
Syntax had already reached the other side, and was standing by the door, waiting for Cookie to join him. She was only halfway along the outer wall, and was trying hard not to lose her nerve.
“That’s it, Cookie!” Syntax called, encouragingly. “You’re nearly there!”
Cookie didn’t answer. She felt that if she opened her mouth to do so, she might throw up. She just had to keep edging along, keeping her distance from the tiles, even if she couldn’t see where her hooves were going beneath her jiggling gut.
“Now this is the Tough Cookie I know,” said Syntax. “Facing the peril head-on! You’ve got this!”
The tight knot inside Cookie loosened at Syntax’s words of encouragement. He believed that she could do this, and if he believed in her, she couldn’t let him down. So, with renewed energy, she began to quicken her pace a bit, not even looking down as she moved along.
“That’s it! You’re almost there! You’re– Cookie, look out!”
“Wha-? Ack!”
As though fate had decided to toy with Cookie’s fortune at the very end, a small shower of stones came dislodged from the roof of the cavern, and one came down right above her, conking her on the crown. Stars danced before her eyes, and her hind hoof slipped on the pebbles that fell beside her, causing her to step on the very last green tile before the door.
With a clunk, it fell away, and Cookie dropped with a yelp down it…
...up to her hindquarters, whereupon she was brought to an immediate halt.
Whereas an average-sized pony, like Syntax, would have plummeted straight down, Cookie’s girth had brought her to a lucky stop, corking her in place and preventing her from going further. The mare herself blinked, still shaking off the dizziness from the blow to her head, while Syntax stared in bemusement.
“Are you all right, Cookie?”
“I think so,” said Cookie, looking down at her wedged hips. “Pretty close call, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fairly,” said Syntax, adjusting his glasses. “Once again, it appears that the makers of this tomb did not construct its defenses with mares of your circumference in mind. This time, for once, it’s become more help than hindrance.”
“See?” said Cookie, with a hint of pride. “Told ya I didn’t need to be skinny to be an explorer.”
“Don’t let one lucky break go to your head, Cookie. You should consider yourself fortunate that you didn’t land on another tile.”
“I know, I know. And I do feel lucky, believe me, and not just because of that.”
With a broad grin on her face, she looked over at the dragon statue, which now stood right beside her. Her horn glowed, and her appraising spell briefly swept over the statue.
“Now I’ve got you, you ancient beauty,” said Cookie, eagerly. “Come to Mama.”
“Cookie, I wouldn’t just now…” Syntax warned.
Cookie wasn’t listening. She directed her magic at the statue, and this time, she was able to get a good grip on it. Her face alight with joy, she lifted it off its pedestal, half-expecting to hear a choir of angels singing in celebration of her achievement, even if she was wedged halfway into the floor.
The moment was fleeting, however. The door behind them slammed violently shut, as did the one they had entered through. Then, the entire room began to shudder violently. The two ponies looked about hurriedly, trying to find the source of the shaking. Then both looked up, and Cookie felt her heart plummet.
The ceiling of the chamber was shifting down towards them at an alarming rate.
Cookie let out a yell that was lost in the rumbling. Syntax looked anxiously from the ceiling to Cookie, then to the statue, and then to the pedestal. There was a hole where the statue had been sitting, and an elongated peg at the statue’s base. In an instant, he knew what had to be done. Leaning forward, he prodded Cookie’s shoulder to get her attention. Her eyes on him, she saw him mouth the words ‘Put it back!’ while pointing at the statue.
Cookie hesitated. She understood what he was saying, but didn’t like what he was saying.
Once more, Syntax mouthed ‘Put it back!’, more forcefully this time. Cookie looked longingly at the statue, her prize for making it across the treacherous chamber. She didn’t want to just give it up, after coming all this way, but if she didn’t, the two of them would be pony pancakes. Her eyes flitted to the descending ceiling, then over at Syntax.
It was the only way.
She slammed the statue back onto the pedestal, and the ceiling came to a halt, mere feet above their heads. Hardly daring to breathe, Cookie watched as it ponderously rose back up to its original height, and the doors slid open again. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“I take back what I said. That was a close call.”
“Much closer than I would have liked,” said Syntax. “It seems that the statue is meant to be another failsafe, should the tiles prove ineffective in stopping ponies from getting across.”
“Which means we can’t take it with us,” Cookie grumbled.
“I’m afraid not,” said Syntax. “I’m sorry, but it’s certainly not worth being subjected to booby-trapped tiles or being squashed by a descending ceiling. Your hesitation in putting it back was very worrisome, so I’m glad you did the right thing, though I know it must have been difficult to give it up.”
Cookie didn’t answer. She didn’t even look Syntax in the eye. She felt irritated at having to give up such an appealing treasure, when it was sitting right next to her. It would’ve certainly turned quite a few heads if she brought it back, and she could just picture Beryl’s jaw dropping at the sight of such a crystal carving.
However, the irritation soon passed away into a sinking, guilty feeling. She and Syntax could have been killed, all because she was bent on getting her hooves on this statue. Syntax was right. It wasn’t worth it.
“Come now, Cookie,” said Syntax. “Let’s not sit here sulking any longer. We’ve had a good dose of excitement, and the Scrolls of Equus await. Let me give you a hoof.”
He gripped Cookie under her forelegs, took a deep breath, and gave a hard tug. It only took a few seconds, and the porky mare was pulled free, dragged safely onto the perimeter of non-tiled stone, whereupon she got onto all fours again, brushing herself off.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Of course,” said Syntax. “Shall we press on, partner?”
He patted her shoulder, giving her a small smile. Cookie took one last look at the statue, then back at her friend. Even in spite of their momentary peril, he was still the same placid, imperturbable pony he always was. Finally, she smiled again herself.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Syntax.
“If this is only the first room, though, I’d hate to see what comes next.”
“I’m not without misgivings myself. However, we’ve come this far, so we must press onward.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
And so, turning their backs on the tile chamber, the two explorers pressed onwards, heading deeper into the tomb.
Just as before, the tunnel wound its way on, forwards and downwards, with no deviation in appearance or route. It did make a turn here, or a turn there, but other than that, there was no alternate path to throw them for a loop or make them guess which way to go.
“For such a secret and secure tomb,” said Cookie, “the way through is pretty straightforward.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” said Syntax. “Even looking at the map, the layout is rather simplistic, with only a few chambers to access altogether. The tunnels between them are drawn long, to be sure, but there are no branching paths or potential dead-ends.”
“Makes the map seem kinda pointless, doesn’t it?”
“Well, not necessarily. It did point out where the entrance was, and it gives an idea of how much there is to expect. I suppose the challenge lies less in how spacious and confusing it could be, and more in coping with what’s inside, as evidenced by that room we just faced.”
“Good point,” said Cookie, grimly. “Still, if temple traps don’t turn explorers off to going deeper, then all the walking might. My hooves are killing me…”
Once again, as though discussing the subject of distance was the key to bringing their next objective closer, no sooner had Cookie complained than the tunnel opened out into another chamber. This one was smaller than the last, and there were no elaborate tiles on the floor. There was, however, a pedestal in the middle, surrounded by a circular pattern on the floor, and upon which sat a scroll and an hourglass.
“A pretty barebones room,” said Cookie, looking around. “What’s the catch this time?”
“I’m not sure. I can only surmise that it has to do with that pedestal in the center. Tread carefully, Cookie.”
The two approached the pedestal, Cookie looking this way and that with each step. At this point, she was expecting something to come springing out of the walls to attack them before they got to the center, but nothing happened. They came to the pedestal without incident. Frowning slightly, Syntax picked up the scroll in his magic and opened it, while Cookie stared at the hourglass. Her face’s reflection distorted itself in the bulb-shaped glass as she gazed at its intricate framework, set with jewels.
“Get a load of this thing, Tax,” she breathed. “I’ve had some fancy timepieces brought into my shop, but nothing like this. Gem-encrusted and everything! If Beryl got her hooves on this, it’d be the tiara all over again…”
Her horn flared, and she levitated the hourglass from its place. Syntax noticed.
“Cookie, don’t!” he shouted.
“What? I’m just looking at–”
She stopped, taken aback. The hourglass had flipped itself the other way in her magic, the sand-filled side uppermost. There was a loud rumbling noise, and in the next instant, just like in the last chamber, the door ahead and the door behind both slammed shut. The hourglass fell back down on the pedestal.
“I didn’t do that!” Cookie cried. “It flipped by itself! All I did was pick it up!”
Syntax sighed, rubbing his temple with his hoof.
“If you had waited for me to translate what was on the scroll,” he said, trying to keep his tone level, “you would know what would happen if you moved it, but you couldn’t wait a few more seconds, could you?”
“Well, what is gonna happen, then?” Cookie asked, choosing to ignore the rest of what Syntax said.
“According to the scroll,” said Syntax, “we have reached the ‘Chamber of Resolution’, having gotten past the ‘Chamber of Dexterity’.”
“I think ‘Chamber of Death Tiles’ sounds better, personally,” muttered Cookie.
Syntax went on as though he hadn’t heard that.
“To pass through this chamber, one must possess the resolution and fortitude to press on, even in the face of imminent danger.”
“So what does that mean?” Cookie asked, warily.
As though to answer her question, several sections of the walls on either side shifted away, leaving holes in them. With a hiss and a scuttling noise, several live snakes and scorpions came slithering and skittering out from both sides. Cookie blanched. Syntax frowned grimly, looking from them to the hourglass.
“I can only presume it means surviving in this chamber with those creatures long enough for the sand to get to the bottom of the hourglass.”
“What?!” Cookie squeaked. “That’s insane! By that time, we’ll be bitten and stung to death! Can’t we undo it?”
Her horn flared up, surrounding the hourglass in her aura, but though she tried to lift it back up again, it didn’t budge. It was as though it was magnetically affixed to the pedestal, and no amount of tugging was going to lift it up.
“It would seem that’s not an option,” said Syntax, dryly.
“Well, then, what do you suggest we do, Mr. Calm and Composed?!” Cookie snapped, scowling at him.
All of a sudden, with a loud clang that made them both jump, several long, thin metal poles sprang from the floor, connecting with the ceiling above and making an exact circumference around the pedestal. Within seconds, Cookie and Syntax were encircled by an iron-barred cage. A rather confined one, at that, as it squashed them together, forcing them onto their hind legs until they were nose to nose. They stared at each other, bemused, as the slithery and skittery denizens of the chamber drew ever closer.
“Nothing to do but wait it out, it would seem,” said Syntax, calmly.
“Great,” huffed Cookie. “Just great. Not only am I gonna get bitten and stung to death by snakes and scorpions, but I’m gonna die while trapped in a cage with you.”
“I assure you that this is no picnic for myself, either. Your girth doesn’t leave me with much mobility inside this cage.”
Indeed, Syntax was rather firmly sandwiched between Cookie’s prominent belly and the bars behind him. The portly mare practically took up the whole space of the little cell by herself.
“I can’t exactly move about either, genius,” retorted Cookie. “This cage is tiny.”
“Once more proving my point that this tomb was–”
“–not built for ponies my size, yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Cookie, impatiently. “I get it, ok? I’m fat! Nopony ever designs these temples with fat ponies like me in mind, cuz no other fat pony would think of being an adventurer! How many times do you have to bring it up?!”
“Apparently enough for you to forget that you’re ‘stout’, not ‘fat’,” said Syntax, with a wry grin.
Cookie blinked, momentarily surprised, then huffed, her cheeks going red.
“Gonna gloat about it now, are ya?” she mumbled.
“I see no reason to. Hearing you have the maturity to admit it is refreshing, coming from a mare as stubborn as you are.”
Cookie rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help smirking herself.
“And I would be lying,” Syntax went on, “if I said that while our current confinements are rather cramped, there wasn’t a level of comfort in being pressed up against something as soft as your well-padded paunch.”
“Flatterer,” quipped Cookie. “You’re one of the few ponies who actually appreciates this gut of mine, even though you poke fun at it just as much.”
She gave her belly a pat to emphasize, but as she looked down, she suddenly shuddered and uttered a small shriek. The snakes and scorpions had slipped their way through the cage, and were now crawling about at their hooves. Syntax looked down as well.
“Oh dear. That’s troubling.”
“Ya think?!” squeaked Cookie. “What do we do? Should we start stamping them?”
“I wouldn’t advise that. If they perceive us as a threat to their safety, that might heighten their aggression and make them attack us in earnest.”
“So are we just supposed to wait for them to attack us first?” Cookie asked, sharply.
“Keep calm, Cookie,” said Syntax. “These serpents and scorpions are more afraid of us than we are of them.”
“Oh, yeah, these little creeps look absolutely petrified, crawling all over our hooves!” snapped Cookie.
“And yet, haven’t you noticed? They have had ample opportunity to bite or sting us, and they haven’t.”
Cookie stared at Syntax, open-mouthed, then at the creatures below. Now that she thought about it, Syntax had a point. They hadn’t done more than crawl about them. None of them had made any gesture of aggression or territoriality against them. None of the snakes had even shown their fangs.
“So, the ‘resolution’ of this chamber,” Cookie said, slowly, “is resisting the urge to fight back, if you don’t want to get hurt?”
“It would appear so,” said Syntax. “Rather ingenious, I must admit.”
“If you say so.”
All of a sudden, she felt something tickle against her leg. With a thrill of horror, she watched as one of the snakes crawled up along her leg, winding its way up her curvy body until it came to rest atop her belly. Cookie stared at it, her heart beating fast, as the snake stared unblinkingly back, flicking its tongue in her direction.
“H-hi there,” Cookie said, shakily.
The snake simply stared, looking faintly curious. Meanwhile, Cookie was exercising all of the willpower she possessed not to slap the little reptile off of her before it even thought about biting her. Across from her, she saw, with another terrified thrill, that Syntax had a scorpion perched on his nose. He was looking as composed as ever about it.
“Why, hello,” he said, pleasantly. “Fine day, isn’t it? We’re ever so grateful to you and your fellows for allowing us to wait things out here in peace.”
“What is this, a tea party?” Cookie muttered.
At that moment, a loud, echoing clang, like the ringing of an enormous bell, rattled the chamber, making the two cramped ponies shudder in place. The snake and scorpion made their way back down to the floor and, as they and their kin slithered and skittered away back to their dens, the cage retracted, and Cookie and Syntax sprang about, settling back on all fours. With a rumble, the two doorways slid back open, and all was silent once more.
“Well,” said Syntax, straightening his hat and glasses, “that was certainly an experience.”
“One I’d rather not relive again,” said Cookie, straightening her vest. “Cramped in a cage with critters creeping all over me…”
“But it did teach you a valuable lesson in self-restraint, did it not?” asked Syntax.
“If by that, you mean the only way I survived was because I ignored the basic instinct to stomp them before they got to me.”
“Actually, that was part of this chamber’s design.”
“What do you mean?”
Syntax held up the scroll, showing Cookie a line of text at the bottom.
“Here’s yet another contribution from the Eastern Unicorns,” he said. “That text there is an old proverb from their culture, which, when translated, reads: ‘The fang of the serpent pierces only the hoof that crushes it.’ In essence, if we struck first, those creatures would have risen against us in an instant, and we would have stood no chance against them. Being passive was the only way to proceed.”
Cookie blinked, amazed.
“Well, I’ll be darned. Guess I’ll have to remember that the next time I see a snake on one of our expeditions. I still remember nearly getting bitten when we ran into that cobra nest out in Somnambula.”
“I’m glad to see you’re learning a few lessons along the way,” said Syntax, rolling up the scroll and setting it down on the pedestal. “I’ll be more impressed if they stick for once.”
“Har-dee-har,” said Cookie, sarcastically. “Can we move on already?”
“We can, and we shall. Come along.”
With that, the two put their backs to the chamber, and once more delved deeper into the tomb, moving ever closer to the treasure within.
Based on my characters from this piece (fav.me/dbrpkxd) drawn by the ever-awesome Mellowhen (http://www.furaffinity.net/user/mellowhen), this chronicles an adventure with the hardy Equestrian explorer, Tough Cookie, and her stoic partner, Syntax, taking place between Seasons 8 and 9 of MLP. Enjoy! =) (Smile)
MLP:FiM is property of Lauren Faust and Hasbro
Note: The door puzzle in this chapter was based off the scene at the entrance to the Mines of Moria in The Fellowship of the Ring, and the Old Ponish I used is based off this guide from FIMFiction by TimeLoad.
https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/771.....eak-old-ponish
***Stage one of the operation had come off just as smoothly as planned. In the wee hours of the morning, long before many ponies would even be thinking of waking up, Cookie, though still very drowsy herself, met Syntax outside of the Tomes, her saddlebags packed for the journey. With Curios bearing a notice that it’d be closed for an undisclosed period of time, and with Paige set to take care of the Tomes in her employer’s absence, the two made their way to the Canterlot port, boarding a private airship that Syntax had hired, and which was expected to take them back again once they had accomplished their goal. No creature but the birds would be witnesses to their departure, and to all appearances in Canterlot, the two would just be off on another expedition to parts unknown.
“I never get tired of this feeling,” said Cookie with relish, as she walked the gangplank onto the deck. “The two of us, getting away from sitting behind dull desks all day, putting the stuffy air of Canterlot behind us, setting out for new discoveries to wow the public with. It makes me feel…uplifted, free.”
“As light as a feather?” Syntax asked.
“Actually, yeah.”
“Well, that’s quite an accomplishment, for a mare of your size. Perhaps I can rest easy knowing you won’t weigh the ship down and slow us up.”
“Like I couldn’t see that joke coming a mile away,” said Cookie, sarcastically. “Let’s just ship out, ok, Captain Snark?”
“As you wish,” said Syntax, doffing his hat in a mock bow. “Full steam ahead for the Badlands.”
And so, with Syntax at the helm, the ship left the Canterlot port, with the sun only just rising, and the adventurous duo were on their way.
***The noonday sun was high and hot in the sky, and Cookie was just about to ask, for the umpteenth time, if they were there yet, when at last, they came upon their destination, as indicated by the map Syntax had so scrupulously kept hidden. It was a secluded spot in the middle of the desert, tucked away at the foot of a lone mountain. There, with the geological giant looming overhead, the airship touched down, and the pair disembarked.
“It’s lucky you studied piloting, Tax,” said Cookie. “Otherwise, we’d have to deal with a lot of awkward questions for another pilot about where we were going or what we’d be doing.”
“Agreed,” said Syntax. “Under circumstances of the greatest secrecy, it does best to create as few witnesses as possible.”
“Sheesh, the way you talk, you’d think we were criminals trying to hide a stash of loot.”
“You were the one who started the conversation with bringing up awkward questions.”
“And I’ll end said conversation by asking where the entrance is.”
Syntax drew out the map.
“If my readings are correct, and they always are, the entrance to the tomb should be at the foot of this peak, on the eastern side. We’ve landed on the eastern side, so it shouldn’t be far from here. Come along, and keep an eye out.”
They started walking from the airship, heading closer to the peak, while looking this way and that for any sign of an entrance. The wind blew fitfully as they moved under the shade of the mountain, ruffling Cookie’s mane. Even then, and even with the mountain looming over them, temporarily blocking the sun, the air was still hot and dry. The sooner they found the way in and got out of the heat, the better.
Suddenly, Syntax came to a halt, so that Cookie bumped into him.
“Oof! What?” she asked, sharply.
“I see it! There!” said Syntax.
Cookie’s annoyance vanished in an instant. She looked eagerly where Syntax was pointing. Standing between a pair of cacti, a sizable mound of rock sat before them. A square section had been cut into it, and covering it was a smooth stone slab, like a door. Cookie raised an eyebrow.
“You sure that’s it?” she asked. “Doesn’t look very impressive.”
“I’m positive,” said Syntax. “It matches the appearance of the entrance on the map. That’s the doorway to the tomb that, if the legends are true, holds the fabled Scrolls of Equus.”
The two approached the solitary stone, Cookie still looking skeptical.
“I’m just saying,” she said, “for a place that’s meant to hide such a priceless treasure, it looks pretty ordinary.”
“Well, if it was more grand and impressive, it would stand out, and would be discovered too easily,” said Syntax, “and what civilization is that keen for their well-kept treasures to be found by the common pony?”
“All right, all right, point taken.”
“Now, the only question is, how do we open the door?” Syntax mused.
“Good point,” said Cookie, squinting at the slab. “I don’t see a keyhole or anything.”
Both unicorns began examining the door and the rock wall supporting it, trying to find some indication of how to enter, peering closely here, tapping with their hooves there, directing the magic in their horns elsewhere. Of course, as Syntax said, somepony who was particularly determined to safeguard their treasure wouldn’t give up their secrets so easily. It wasn’t as though they would leave a placard proclaiming directions to finding a key, or spelling out an ancient password for all to see.
“Aha!” cried Syntax, suddenly. “Cookie, over here!”
Cookie came plodding over, looking excited. Syntax was rubbing away at a spot of rock beside the door. Beneath a layer of dirt, they could see miniscule words etched into the stone, small enough to fit on a postage stamp.
“This could very well be the clue we’d been seeking,” said Syntax. “It’s been written here so long that, had it not caught the eye of one with attention to detail, it would have remained undiscovered. And even in its day, the lettering is so minute that it would very well be taken for mere scratchings on the surface.”
“Well, don’t just sit there, Mr. Tedious,” said Cookie, jostling him impatiently. “Translate it! See what it says!”
“I’m getting there,” said Syntax, irritably. “You could show a little appreciation for how well-hidden it was. It’s a mark of the originator’s ingenuity.”
“I’ll better appreciate how brainy and clever and whatever else they were after we get in. Now make with the translate!”
Syntax sighed, muttering under his breath, then directed his horn at the text on the stone. His horn glowed dark-blue, and the glow surrounded the letters as well. As though being displayed on a projector, the words, surrounded by a square border of Syntax’s aura, grew outwards until they were clearly visible, large enough to read from a distance.
“Looks cool every time you do that,” said Cookie, appreciatively.
Syntax smirked, in spite of himself, then peered at the letters before him, his brow furrowed.
“Odd. The words are written in Old Ponish, but the language is that of the Eastern Unicorns.”
Cookie tilted her head and squinted at the lettering.
“Really? I’ve never heard of anypony using somepony else’s language in their alphabet.”
“Oh, it can happen, but it’s very rare. The few times I’ve seen it have been when the writer was desirous to hide a message’s true meaning by throwing the translator for a loop. Well,” Syntax added, with a touch of pride, “there has never been a cryptogram that I could not decode in the end.”
Cookie grinned. It always made her happy whenever Syntax was happy, with him being such a stoic pony naturally.
“So, what does it say?” she asked.
“It says, ‘The sound of a friend will see you through.’”
Cookie raised an eyebrow.
“The sound of a friend? Does it mean it’ll open if it knows it can trust you like a friend?”
“I’m not sure,” muttered Syntax. “If that’s the case, it’s up to the discretion of whatever monitors this tomb’s defenses whom it allows to pass.”
“And since we’re here to find a hidden treasure, I can’t exactly count myself a friend of the tomb, now can I?” asked Cookie, grimly.
“Nor can I, frankly,” said Syntax. “But we may as well give it a try.”
He stood squarely before the door, head held high, and spoke, loud and clear, “Patoffnen! (Open!)”
Nothing happened. The stone remained unmoved.
“Very well,” said Syntax. “Then, perhaps, if the language is that of the Eastern Unicorns, it desires an answer in that tongue.”
He cleared his throat, and said, loudly and clearly, “Kaisuo! (Unlock!)”
Nothing happened. The door may as well have been a piece of the wall, for all the movement it made. Syntax frowned.
“I see,” he said. “It’s not simply a matter of speaking in one tongue or the other. This warrants thinking about.”
Cookie sat on her haunches, pouting thoughtfully. Syntax sat down as well, looking deep in thought himself. For several minutes, they sat in silence, but though a sudden new brainwave unknit Syntax’s brow a few times, it would just as quickly reknit again as the wave passed. As for Cookie, she was utterly stumped. Exploration in the physical sense was more of her speed. Riddles and puzzles were more Syntax’s specialty, so she felt lost.
“I still don’t get what the connection with the Eastern Unicorns is,” mused Cookie at last. “Did they have something to do with Old Equestria?”
“That I cannot say,” said Syntax. “They are, assuredly, an ancient race of pony, from the days of Mistmane, and powerfully magical. Perhaps something in their spellwork is relevant to the safeguarding of this tomb.”
“Well, then, maybe there’s something different in the clue if it’s in another language. ‘The sound of a friend will see you through’.”
Syntax put his hoof to his chin again, thinking.
“‘The sound of a friend will see you through’...”
He began to mutter under his breath, speaking in different languages. Cookie let him carry on, partly because she didn’t want to break his concentration, and partly because she couldn’t understand a lick of anything but pidgin scraps of certain languages. Having Syntax as a best friend hadn’t yet let the fruits of his talent absorb into her mind.
Suddenly, Syntax jumped to his hooves, his face lit up.
“Of course! It’s brilliant! Cookie, you’ve done it this time!”
Cookie stared, perplexed.
“What did I do?” she asked.
Syntax faced the door and spoke, loud and clear, “Rijan!” There was a rumbling sound. The stone slab shifted, and then slid upward, vanishing completely, revealing a square hole. Cookie’s jaw dropped.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I thought about what you said, Cookie,” said Syntax, “about the disparity between the lettering and the language, so I ran the same phrase in my mind in the language of the Eastern Unicorns. It’s a much more literal translation: ‘The sound of the word ‘friend’ will show you the way’. As in, say the word ‘friend’, and the door will open. However, it had to be spoken in Old Ponish. Therein lies the subtlety in the linguistic double-play: the alphabet was still Old Ponish, so the answer would still be Old Ponish. Quite ingenious!”
“Wow,” said Cookie, amazed. “That’s definitely something I never would’ve pieced together. Nice going, Syntax.”
“All thanks to your choice of words, my dear Cookie.”
Cookie blushed at this compliment. Syntax approached the doorway, lowering his head and lighting his horn as he peered inside.
“The door’s rather small,” he said, “but the chamber widens on the inside. Mind yourself, Cookie,” he added, looking back at her.
Cookie rolled her eyes.
“We deal with this all the time on these spelunks, Tax,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
Syntax shrugged, bent down low, and crawled inside. Naturally, for a stallion of his lean stature, it was easy enough for him to creep in, but a mare like Cookie was another story. One look from her plump physique to the small doorway would’ve been enough to cast doubt in any reasonable mind, but the mare herself wasn’t hesitating at all, and was right behind her companion.
Bending down, so that her belly actually touched the ground, Cookie began to shimmy into the hole herself. It was dark inside, but Syntax had already lit his horn to study the map, so she did the same. The chamber was indeed spacious on the inside, and up ahead, she could see a tunnel that led onward, the only way ahead.
As she edged forward, slipping her head and forelegs through, she began to feel a tightening sensation around her barrel. She frowned, then continued forward, wriggling a little, until,
“Oomph!”
Her cheeks puffed up as she felt a great discomfort right at her middle. Outside, her plump gut had completely swallowed up the little hole, and was now pressing up against the rocky aperture, denying her entrance. Cookie gave a hard push with both sets of legs, straining to budge through, before she was forced to stop, no further inside than before. Inside, Syntax sighed.
“I do wish we didn’t have to go through this every time” he muttered.
“Hey!” snapped Cookie, still struggling to squeeze through. “Is it -mmph- my fault that these -rrgh- ancient ponies made their -oof- doors so small?”
“I could easily pass through,” said Syntax. “I believe the problem is that the door was not made for a pony of your ‘ample proportions’.”
“Oh, like ponies my size didn’t exist back then,” snorted Cookie.
“That wasn’t my point.”
Cookie took a deep breath, trying to suck her gut in as much as possible, and gave another great heave. Her face slowly turned red, both from the strain of pushing and from holding her breath in. However, at last, with a lurch, she felt herself budge forward, so that her paunch now bulged out around the hole on the inside. In consequence, she could feel her rump wedge itself into place. She paused to take a breather, panting from all the exertion.
“You know, Cookie,” said Syntax, “you’re reminding me very vividly of a story I heard in my youth. It was about a silly bear who went to visit a rabbit in his hole, and ate too much honey.”
“Oh, shut up,” grumbled Cookie.
She braced her hooves against the wall behind her and gave a hard push. She strained, heaved, and shoved with all the strength she had, but after a few minutes’ exertion, she had made no headway, and was as tightly stuck as before.
“Would you care for some help?” Syntax asked, in a tone that wasn’t without sincerity.
“No thanks,” said Cookie, flatly. “I’d rather not make you throw out your back trying to pull me through.”
While some might take this to be a patronizing, ironic statement pointed at Syntax’s slender and slightly gangly frame, the learned linguist knew Cookie better than that. He felt sure she was saying this to mean she didn’t want him to injure himself because of her own fault. That was one of the oddities of Tough Cookie: sometimes, when she said something, she meant it in a different way than seen at face value, and which only someone as close with her as he was could understand.
Cookie had resumed trying to push herself through, twisting her rotund frame as she tried to squeeze in. Meanwhile, her bottom remained obstinately stuck on the outside, and what was more, thin cracks began to form around the edges of the hole. It seemed that the pressure of an overweight mare trying to fit through a hole patently too small for her was testing the limits of the aperture. Syntax observed this, but said nothing. Cookie, seeing nothing, continued to strain and push against her geological prison.
At last, with a cracking, crumbling noise, the hole in the rock actually gave way, and Cookie’s rump slipped inside, followed by her back legs. Her waist and hips aching, she stood up and looked at the hole, now more roughly-shaped from that experience, as well as the small pile of pebbles that had accumulated due to the reshaping.
“I don’t know how you do it,” said Syntax, looking mildly impressed, “but you always manage to get yourself out in the end.
Cookie grinned.
“Ha. I wouldn’t be called ‘Tough Cookie’ if I gave up, now would I?”
“I suppose not. Well, shall we proceed?”
“Let’s.”
With that, the two started off down the passage that lay before them, deeper into the tomb.
***Neither pony dared to speak much as they walked along, their horns lit, looking about at the tunnel before and around them. The total silence, apart from the sound of their hooves on the rocky floor, or the swish of water as they quenched their thirst with their canteens, was eerie and ominous. It was as though it was something physical, something tangible, something that ought not to be disturbed. Of course, Cookie and Syntax had experienced it before, but it never grew any less creepy.
The tunnel continued on a steady, unbroken path, deeper and deeper downward, with no immediate sign of an approach end. There weren’t even any paths branching off from their tunnel. There were, however, tiny gaps and holes in the walls, which brought rats, scorpions, and snakes crawling through them to mind, which wasn’t comfortable thinking in an oppressively quiet atmosphere.
“How long does this tunnel go on?” Cookie asked in a whisper, which echoed nonetheless.
“I’m not certain,” Syntax whispered back. “The map only has the general layout of the tomb. It doesn’t include measurements of distance.”
Almost as soon as they had discussed the matter, as though the tomb itself had been waiting for it to be addressed, the tunnel leveled out, and the two suddenly found themselves in a new chamber.
At first glance, it looked completely empty. A door lay ahead on the far side, and the floor was elaborately tiled. Each section was set with a different pattern, and the patterns themselves were each their own color: red, yellow, green, and blue.
“This looks pretty easy,” said Cookie, looking about.
“Yes...too easy,” muttered Syntax. “This must mean something.”
Cookie’s eyes, still scoping out the room, suddenly widened and sparkled. “Tax, look there!” she cried, pointing forward.
Syntax followed her gaze, and saw that a square section towards the back of the room was made of blank stone, surrounded by a border of green tiles. Sitting within it, on a carved pedestal, was a statue made of green crystal, shaped like a serpentine dragon balanced on its tail. Syntax adjusted his glasses and peered at it, frowning.
“Another treasure? I was under the impression that the Scrolls were the only items of interest in this tomb. I don’t recall reading anything about a dragon statue being here. I might be able to identify it, if I could get a closer look.”
“Well, don’t worry about that,” said Cookie, confidently. “I’m on it.” So saying, she stretched her leg out towards the tile immediately before her, set with a blue pattern.
“Cookie, wait!” said Syntax, sharply.
Too late. Cookie placed her hoof firmly on the tile, which sank down into the floor. At the same instant, something made a clicking noise from above. There was a sharp whizzing sound, and Cookie drew her hoof back with a yelp, just in time for several arrows to strike the tile, exactly where her hoof had been. The plump mare gulped, looking from the arrows to her partner, who was looking serious.
“That was far too close,” he said. “I knew it looked too easy, and you should have realized it too, or at least had the courtesy to wait when I told you to.”
Cookie gave Syntax a sour look.
“You’re the one who wanted a closer look at that statue,” she grumbled.
“Not if it meant springing a trap,” countered Syntax. “You should know better.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a filly,” Cookie snapped. “How was I supposed to know?”
“Why didn’t you at least try to move it from a distance with your magic?”
Cookie opened her mouth, then closed it again. She hadn’t considered that. She directed her magic at the statue and tried to grab it, but it was too far away for her to get a good grip on it. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, her aura only flickered feebly around it, not enough to pick it up. Sighing in frustration, she sat back on her haunches, casting a longing look at the statue, as it glimmered tantalizingly in the light of their horns.
“At least that didn’t trigger anything further,” said Syntax. “Let’s consider these tiles and see what we can glean from them. They may lend a clue to how to traverse this floor safely.”
“And get that statue,” Cookie added.
“And get that statue,” echoed Syntax, dryly. “Now, let’s see.”
He levitated a stone sitting on the floor, and placed it on another blue tile. It sank as well, and more arrows rained down on it, making Cookie wince. Next, Syntax placed the same stone on a red tile. It sank, and this time, a barrage of darts shot from the left and right walls, whizzing through the air over the tile. Cookie gulped. Syntax then placed the stone on a yellow tile. This time, neither arrows or darts shot at the spot, but the pattern on the tile glowed white, and an intense heat emanated from it, creating a momentary haze until the stone was removed.
“Sheesh,” Cookie muttered. “Have to give them points for creativity.”
“I’m detecting a pattern with these tiles,” said Syntax, thoughtfully. “Each color corresponds to a different trap when pressure is applied to it. Blue shoots arrows, red releases darts, and yellow produces heat.”
“Which means the green ones are safe to step on,” said Cookie, with a new surge of confidence. “Nice process of elimination, Tax.”
She started to step forward again, but Syntax held out a hoof to stop her.
“Not necessarily,” he said. “You can’t be too certain.”
He levitated the stone again, and laid it on a green tile. Rather than sinking down gradually, it fell open like a trapdoor, and the stone disappeared into a dark abyss below. Cookie stared in disbelief.
“You see?” Syntax said.
“But then none of them are safe to step on!” Cookie protested. “So what do we do?! How do we get across?!”
“Puzzling indeed,” mused Syntax. “It’s rare that I meet a puzzle where every answer is a wrong one, which must mean there’s something we overlooked…”
He looked around the chamber from top to bottom, but apart from the pebbles and stones littering the floor, there was nothing but the tiles and the statue. There wasn’t even any writing inscribed with instructions. Cookie paced back and forth impatiently, biting her lip as she tried to think as well, casting more glances at the inaccessible statue, which still twinkled invitingly.
“Stop mocking me,” she muttered at it. “You know I’d love nothing more than to snatch you up and bring you back to the shop, but you’ve gotta be difficult about it, don’t you?”
“Arguing with something that can’t argue back isn’t going to make this any easier, Cookie,” said Syntax, without even looking at her.
Cookie huffed and kept pacing.
“We can’t just be stranded here,” she said. “The ponies who built this temple would wanna make sure the traps worked, so they had to have a way to go in and out.”
Syntax’s gaze roved around the chamber again, this time focusing on the floor, and as he looked at it more and more, his brow began to unknit.
“I wonder…” he muttered.
Cookie stopped pacing.
“Got something?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I see no other option under the present circumstances. If none of the tiles can be trusted, then it only stands to reason that we circumvent them altogether.”
Cookie raised a puzzled eyebrow.
“I hope you don’t mean we make a jump for it, cuz neither one of us can leap that far.”
“I wouldn’t chance that, no. What I mean is, we make our way around the tiles. There’s a perimeter of the floor that isn’t made of tiles that leads to the opposite door. You see?”
He pointed out a section of bare stone that lay before the tiles began, and which wound its way in a square around them, along the walls and to the door. Cookie looked dubiously at it.
“I dunno, Tax. That’s not a lot of room to go on four legs. What if we lose our balance and hit a tile?”
“If necessary, we’ll edge our way along the walls on our hind legs. Unless we wait to sprout wings or learn self-levitation, Cookie, there’s no other way across.”
Cookie groaned, but didn’t argue further.
So, taking careful steps, so as not to trigger one of the tiles, Syntax began a slow, gradual walk along the perimeter of the chamber, looking perfectly composed, yet determined. Cookie followed, but with far less confidence than her partner. It was easy enough for him to keep to the walls on all fours, being so skinny. Cookie’s side and hip brushed against the stone as she moved along, barely able to walk at all, with her legs clamped as close together as she could muster, her belly squished in between.
It got to the point where she did have to stand up on her hind legs, with her back braced against the wall, shimmying and shuffling her way along. She moved a bit quicker in this way, but in this position, she couldn’t even see where her hooves were past her paunch, and she was not at all comfortable with having her curvy backside brush against the cold stone behind her. All the while, she kept looking back at the statue, as it drew ever closer.
Syntax had already reached the other side, and was standing by the door, waiting for Cookie to join him. She was only halfway along the outer wall, and was trying hard not to lose her nerve.
“That’s it, Cookie!” Syntax called, encouragingly. “You’re nearly there!”
Cookie didn’t answer. She felt that if she opened her mouth to do so, she might throw up. She just had to keep edging along, keeping her distance from the tiles, even if she couldn’t see where her hooves were going beneath her jiggling gut.
“Now this is the Tough Cookie I know,” said Syntax. “Facing the peril head-on! You’ve got this!”
The tight knot inside Cookie loosened at Syntax’s words of encouragement. He believed that she could do this, and if he believed in her, she couldn’t let him down. So, with renewed energy, she began to quicken her pace a bit, not even looking down as she moved along.
“That’s it! You’re almost there! You’re– Cookie, look out!”
“Wha-? Ack!”
As though fate had decided to toy with Cookie’s fortune at the very end, a small shower of stones came dislodged from the roof of the cavern, and one came down right above her, conking her on the crown. Stars danced before her eyes, and her hind hoof slipped on the pebbles that fell beside her, causing her to step on the very last green tile before the door.
With a clunk, it fell away, and Cookie dropped with a yelp down it…
...up to her hindquarters, whereupon she was brought to an immediate halt.
Whereas an average-sized pony, like Syntax, would have plummeted straight down, Cookie’s girth had brought her to a lucky stop, corking her in place and preventing her from going further. The mare herself blinked, still shaking off the dizziness from the blow to her head, while Syntax stared in bemusement.
“Are you all right, Cookie?”
“I think so,” said Cookie, looking down at her wedged hips. “Pretty close call, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fairly,” said Syntax, adjusting his glasses. “Once again, it appears that the makers of this tomb did not construct its defenses with mares of your circumference in mind. This time, for once, it’s become more help than hindrance.”
“See?” said Cookie, with a hint of pride. “Told ya I didn’t need to be skinny to be an explorer.”
“Don’t let one lucky break go to your head, Cookie. You should consider yourself fortunate that you didn’t land on another tile.”
“I know, I know. And I do feel lucky, believe me, and not just because of that.”
With a broad grin on her face, she looked over at the dragon statue, which now stood right beside her. Her horn glowed, and her appraising spell briefly swept over the statue.
“Now I’ve got you, you ancient beauty,” said Cookie, eagerly. “Come to Mama.”
“Cookie, I wouldn’t just now…” Syntax warned.
Cookie wasn’t listening. She directed her magic at the statue, and this time, she was able to get a good grip on it. Her face alight with joy, she lifted it off its pedestal, half-expecting to hear a choir of angels singing in celebration of her achievement, even if she was wedged halfway into the floor.
The moment was fleeting, however. The door behind them slammed violently shut, as did the one they had entered through. Then, the entire room began to shudder violently. The two ponies looked about hurriedly, trying to find the source of the shaking. Then both looked up, and Cookie felt her heart plummet.
The ceiling of the chamber was shifting down towards them at an alarming rate.
Cookie let out a yell that was lost in the rumbling. Syntax looked anxiously from the ceiling to Cookie, then to the statue, and then to the pedestal. There was a hole where the statue had been sitting, and an elongated peg at the statue’s base. In an instant, he knew what had to be done. Leaning forward, he prodded Cookie’s shoulder to get her attention. Her eyes on him, she saw him mouth the words ‘Put it back!’ while pointing at the statue.
Cookie hesitated. She understood what he was saying, but didn’t like what he was saying.
Once more, Syntax mouthed ‘Put it back!’, more forcefully this time. Cookie looked longingly at the statue, her prize for making it across the treacherous chamber. She didn’t want to just give it up, after coming all this way, but if she didn’t, the two of them would be pony pancakes. Her eyes flitted to the descending ceiling, then over at Syntax.
It was the only way.
She slammed the statue back onto the pedestal, and the ceiling came to a halt, mere feet above their heads. Hardly daring to breathe, Cookie watched as it ponderously rose back up to its original height, and the doors slid open again. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“I take back what I said. That was a close call.”
“Much closer than I would have liked,” said Syntax. “It seems that the statue is meant to be another failsafe, should the tiles prove ineffective in stopping ponies from getting across.”
“Which means we can’t take it with us,” Cookie grumbled.
“I’m afraid not,” said Syntax. “I’m sorry, but it’s certainly not worth being subjected to booby-trapped tiles or being squashed by a descending ceiling. Your hesitation in putting it back was very worrisome, so I’m glad you did the right thing, though I know it must have been difficult to give it up.”
Cookie didn’t answer. She didn’t even look Syntax in the eye. She felt irritated at having to give up such an appealing treasure, when it was sitting right next to her. It would’ve certainly turned quite a few heads if she brought it back, and she could just picture Beryl’s jaw dropping at the sight of such a crystal carving.
However, the irritation soon passed away into a sinking, guilty feeling. She and Syntax could have been killed, all because she was bent on getting her hooves on this statue. Syntax was right. It wasn’t worth it.
“Come now, Cookie,” said Syntax. “Let’s not sit here sulking any longer. We’ve had a good dose of excitement, and the Scrolls of Equus await. Let me give you a hoof.”
He gripped Cookie under her forelegs, took a deep breath, and gave a hard tug. It only took a few seconds, and the porky mare was pulled free, dragged safely onto the perimeter of non-tiled stone, whereupon she got onto all fours again, brushing herself off.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Of course,” said Syntax. “Shall we press on, partner?”
He patted her shoulder, giving her a small smile. Cookie took one last look at the statue, then back at her friend. Even in spite of their momentary peril, he was still the same placid, imperturbable pony he always was. Finally, she smiled again herself.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Syntax.
“If this is only the first room, though, I’d hate to see what comes next.”
“I’m not without misgivings myself. However, we’ve come this far, so we must press onward.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
And so, turning their backs on the tile chamber, the two explorers pressed onwards, heading deeper into the tomb.
***Just as before, the tunnel wound its way on, forwards and downwards, with no deviation in appearance or route. It did make a turn here, or a turn there, but other than that, there was no alternate path to throw them for a loop or make them guess which way to go.
“For such a secret and secure tomb,” said Cookie, “the way through is pretty straightforward.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” said Syntax. “Even looking at the map, the layout is rather simplistic, with only a few chambers to access altogether. The tunnels between them are drawn long, to be sure, but there are no branching paths or potential dead-ends.”
“Makes the map seem kinda pointless, doesn’t it?”
“Well, not necessarily. It did point out where the entrance was, and it gives an idea of how much there is to expect. I suppose the challenge lies less in how spacious and confusing it could be, and more in coping with what’s inside, as evidenced by that room we just faced.”
“Good point,” said Cookie, grimly. “Still, if temple traps don’t turn explorers off to going deeper, then all the walking might. My hooves are killing me…”
Once again, as though discussing the subject of distance was the key to bringing their next objective closer, no sooner had Cookie complained than the tunnel opened out into another chamber. This one was smaller than the last, and there were no elaborate tiles on the floor. There was, however, a pedestal in the middle, surrounded by a circular pattern on the floor, and upon which sat a scroll and an hourglass.
“A pretty barebones room,” said Cookie, looking around. “What’s the catch this time?”
“I’m not sure. I can only surmise that it has to do with that pedestal in the center. Tread carefully, Cookie.”
The two approached the pedestal, Cookie looking this way and that with each step. At this point, she was expecting something to come springing out of the walls to attack them before they got to the center, but nothing happened. They came to the pedestal without incident. Frowning slightly, Syntax picked up the scroll in his magic and opened it, while Cookie stared at the hourglass. Her face’s reflection distorted itself in the bulb-shaped glass as she gazed at its intricate framework, set with jewels.
“Get a load of this thing, Tax,” she breathed. “I’ve had some fancy timepieces brought into my shop, but nothing like this. Gem-encrusted and everything! If Beryl got her hooves on this, it’d be the tiara all over again…”
Her horn flared, and she levitated the hourglass from its place. Syntax noticed.
“Cookie, don’t!” he shouted.
“What? I’m just looking at–”
She stopped, taken aback. The hourglass had flipped itself the other way in her magic, the sand-filled side uppermost. There was a loud rumbling noise, and in the next instant, just like in the last chamber, the door ahead and the door behind both slammed shut. The hourglass fell back down on the pedestal.
“I didn’t do that!” Cookie cried. “It flipped by itself! All I did was pick it up!”
Syntax sighed, rubbing his temple with his hoof.
“If you had waited for me to translate what was on the scroll,” he said, trying to keep his tone level, “you would know what would happen if you moved it, but you couldn’t wait a few more seconds, could you?”
“Well, what is gonna happen, then?” Cookie asked, choosing to ignore the rest of what Syntax said.
“According to the scroll,” said Syntax, “we have reached the ‘Chamber of Resolution’, having gotten past the ‘Chamber of Dexterity’.”
“I think ‘Chamber of Death Tiles’ sounds better, personally,” muttered Cookie.
Syntax went on as though he hadn’t heard that.
“To pass through this chamber, one must possess the resolution and fortitude to press on, even in the face of imminent danger.”
“So what does that mean?” Cookie asked, warily.
As though to answer her question, several sections of the walls on either side shifted away, leaving holes in them. With a hiss and a scuttling noise, several live snakes and scorpions came slithering and skittering out from both sides. Cookie blanched. Syntax frowned grimly, looking from them to the hourglass.
“I can only presume it means surviving in this chamber with those creatures long enough for the sand to get to the bottom of the hourglass.”
“What?!” Cookie squeaked. “That’s insane! By that time, we’ll be bitten and stung to death! Can’t we undo it?”
Her horn flared up, surrounding the hourglass in her aura, but though she tried to lift it back up again, it didn’t budge. It was as though it was magnetically affixed to the pedestal, and no amount of tugging was going to lift it up.
“It would seem that’s not an option,” said Syntax, dryly.
“Well, then, what do you suggest we do, Mr. Calm and Composed?!” Cookie snapped, scowling at him.
All of a sudden, with a loud clang that made them both jump, several long, thin metal poles sprang from the floor, connecting with the ceiling above and making an exact circumference around the pedestal. Within seconds, Cookie and Syntax were encircled by an iron-barred cage. A rather confined one, at that, as it squashed them together, forcing them onto their hind legs until they were nose to nose. They stared at each other, bemused, as the slithery and skittery denizens of the chamber drew ever closer.
“Nothing to do but wait it out, it would seem,” said Syntax, calmly.
“Great,” huffed Cookie. “Just great. Not only am I gonna get bitten and stung to death by snakes and scorpions, but I’m gonna die while trapped in a cage with you.”
“I assure you that this is no picnic for myself, either. Your girth doesn’t leave me with much mobility inside this cage.”
Indeed, Syntax was rather firmly sandwiched between Cookie’s prominent belly and the bars behind him. The portly mare practically took up the whole space of the little cell by herself.
“I can’t exactly move about either, genius,” retorted Cookie. “This cage is tiny.”
“Once more proving my point that this tomb was–”
“–not built for ponies my size, yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Cookie, impatiently. “I get it, ok? I’m fat! Nopony ever designs these temples with fat ponies like me in mind, cuz no other fat pony would think of being an adventurer! How many times do you have to bring it up?!”
“Apparently enough for you to forget that you’re ‘stout’, not ‘fat’,” said Syntax, with a wry grin.
Cookie blinked, momentarily surprised, then huffed, her cheeks going red.
“Gonna gloat about it now, are ya?” she mumbled.
“I see no reason to. Hearing you have the maturity to admit it is refreshing, coming from a mare as stubborn as you are.”
Cookie rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help smirking herself.
“And I would be lying,” Syntax went on, “if I said that while our current confinements are rather cramped, there wasn’t a level of comfort in being pressed up against something as soft as your well-padded paunch.”
“Flatterer,” quipped Cookie. “You’re one of the few ponies who actually appreciates this gut of mine, even though you poke fun at it just as much.”
She gave her belly a pat to emphasize, but as she looked down, she suddenly shuddered and uttered a small shriek. The snakes and scorpions had slipped their way through the cage, and were now crawling about at their hooves. Syntax looked down as well.
“Oh dear. That’s troubling.”
“Ya think?!” squeaked Cookie. “What do we do? Should we start stamping them?”
“I wouldn’t advise that. If they perceive us as a threat to their safety, that might heighten their aggression and make them attack us in earnest.”
“So are we just supposed to wait for them to attack us first?” Cookie asked, sharply.
“Keep calm, Cookie,” said Syntax. “These serpents and scorpions are more afraid of us than we are of them.”
“Oh, yeah, these little creeps look absolutely petrified, crawling all over our hooves!” snapped Cookie.
“And yet, haven’t you noticed? They have had ample opportunity to bite or sting us, and they haven’t.”
Cookie stared at Syntax, open-mouthed, then at the creatures below. Now that she thought about it, Syntax had a point. They hadn’t done more than crawl about them. None of them had made any gesture of aggression or territoriality against them. None of the snakes had even shown their fangs.
“So, the ‘resolution’ of this chamber,” Cookie said, slowly, “is resisting the urge to fight back, if you don’t want to get hurt?”
“It would appear so,” said Syntax. “Rather ingenious, I must admit.”
“If you say so.”
All of a sudden, she felt something tickle against her leg. With a thrill of horror, she watched as one of the snakes crawled up along her leg, winding its way up her curvy body until it came to rest atop her belly. Cookie stared at it, her heart beating fast, as the snake stared unblinkingly back, flicking its tongue in her direction.
“H-hi there,” Cookie said, shakily.
The snake simply stared, looking faintly curious. Meanwhile, Cookie was exercising all of the willpower she possessed not to slap the little reptile off of her before it even thought about biting her. Across from her, she saw, with another terrified thrill, that Syntax had a scorpion perched on his nose. He was looking as composed as ever about it.
“Why, hello,” he said, pleasantly. “Fine day, isn’t it? We’re ever so grateful to you and your fellows for allowing us to wait things out here in peace.”
“What is this, a tea party?” Cookie muttered.
At that moment, a loud, echoing clang, like the ringing of an enormous bell, rattled the chamber, making the two cramped ponies shudder in place. The snake and scorpion made their way back down to the floor and, as they and their kin slithered and skittered away back to their dens, the cage retracted, and Cookie and Syntax sprang about, settling back on all fours. With a rumble, the two doorways slid back open, and all was silent once more.
“Well,” said Syntax, straightening his hat and glasses, “that was certainly an experience.”
“One I’d rather not relive again,” said Cookie, straightening her vest. “Cramped in a cage with critters creeping all over me…”
“But it did teach you a valuable lesson in self-restraint, did it not?” asked Syntax.
“If by that, you mean the only way I survived was because I ignored the basic instinct to stomp them before they got to me.”
“Actually, that was part of this chamber’s design.”
“What do you mean?”
Syntax held up the scroll, showing Cookie a line of text at the bottom.
“Here’s yet another contribution from the Eastern Unicorns,” he said. “That text there is an old proverb from their culture, which, when translated, reads: ‘The fang of the serpent pierces only the hoof that crushes it.’ In essence, if we struck first, those creatures would have risen against us in an instant, and we would have stood no chance against them. Being passive was the only way to proceed.”
Cookie blinked, amazed.
“Well, I’ll be darned. Guess I’ll have to remember that the next time I see a snake on one of our expeditions. I still remember nearly getting bitten when we ran into that cobra nest out in Somnambula.”
“I’m glad to see you’re learning a few lessons along the way,” said Syntax, rolling up the scroll and setting it down on the pedestal. “I’ll be more impressed if they stick for once.”
“Har-dee-har,” said Cookie, sarcastically. “Can we move on already?”
“We can, and we shall. Come along.”
With that, the two put their backs to the chamber, and once more delved deeper into the tomb, moving ever closer to the treasure within.
Category Story / Fanart
Species Pony
Gender Multiple characters
Size 1280 x 1064px
File Size 174.8 kB
That picture above looks great. :) She does look pretty wedged in there. :D The story portion of that is also well written.
Thanks. It's really the only artwork I had of them that I could use for cover art, and it pretty much captures what a normal expedition for them is like, anyway, lol
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