Toying with an Idea · 9:51pm Aug 20th, 2015
It's a one-shot called 'Human Blood', where a human is actually a mythological creature that is believed to confer the same sort of mysterious properties that unicorns do in our world. i.e. drinking your blood will give you immortality, etc.
Trouble is, it doesn't.
So everypony is quite literally out for his/her blood.
What do you think? Would you read something like this?
P.S. I tagged Poniocracy because it is written in a similar style, but is not loose sci-fi.
Here's a backstory sample below:
Chapter 1: Registry
Deep below the heaving bowels of the Ends of Time, there lies a crackling star suffused with energy that is not exactly charged. It is in fact, something to do with the transient nature of existence, and is something not lightly tampered with, but everybody likes to refer to it as charged. Though undoubtedly, the surface is something inimical to all manner of beings, there are inhabitants within the massive construct that vigilantly attend to their task, so much like a lackadaisical student in a prim and proper private establishment.
Appearing to work hard, but hardly working.
It is true that the work wasn’t strenuous, or indeed anything of supreme importance to the fabric of reality, but it does concern the lives of mortals, for the residents of this charged star oversee the records with a keen eye and quick appendages. Sometimes, if they were feeling up to it, telekinetic fields, but that fashion died out centuries ago. Mundane practicality was all the rage now.
Secant was a particular individual within this supermassive structure. Secant enjoyed the whimsy of peering into the records of mortal lives. The role of beings such as they, would be to observe, and not to interfere. That sat fine with Secant, for Secant was one to do assigned tasks without complaint… or even much wit, but the being was the steady type and that was prized utmost in this fine organisation.
The charged star housed the Registry of Mortals, an impressive library of catalogued lives that spanned the vast shelves from within the fiercely protected star. The Registry wasn’t often accessed from the outside, but it remains a curiosity to those predisposed to the contents. Secant was not one to query perusing individuals about their intentions, so as long as they had the authorisation, it was allowed, and he would not interfere.
Still, it had been a while since anyone, or anything had visited.
So it came as much of a surprise when Secant received orders from a larger, heavy-set star-dweller, that gruffly told him there needed to be an amendment within paragraph 7,219,403 of volume 8,204,512,214. Now an amendment was a serious matter. Thinking about it, a state that was not oft visited, would break Secant into cold sweat if the dweller had the glands for it. Thinking was dangerous. Secant knew this, because Tangent had burst into primeval energy when confronted with the Truth of All Things. An amendment could bring you dangerously close to the Truth.
And no one wanted that.
Even Fate thought twice of the endeavour to change the Registry. The order, Secant decided, must come from very high up indeed. So instead of his usual measured pace, Secant frantically drifted past the stacks of paper annals, digitised copies and chemical records, to reach a very particular shelf.
On it was a simple ornate carving in the mahogany wood that held a word that was long since expired.
A friendly ethereal being might recognise the language and tell you that it was ‘Earth’.
One that was more of a stickler for the finer points of the ancient language might point out that it was more like ‘stack of dirt’. Aptly named, for the world had mostly started out that way. To all concerned, it wasn’t an inventive name.
Nevertheless, such peculiarities didn’t bother Secant, who was busy trying to free volume 8,204,512,214. The hefty tome was very traditionally bound in both leather and some dense material that resembled rubber, but with a smoother, glossier finish. The covers and the form the records changed with the times, and it just so happened that the fashion was anachronistic finishes at the time.
Finally managing to work it out half-way from the shelf, Secant took a short break, eyeing the volume with a mixture of disguised hatred. Disguised, mainly for the fact that Secant did not have facial features to manage such a look.
The weight, which you would be forgiven for attributing to familiar gravity, was in fact loaded with the burden of many, many lives etched on the supple parchment. The volume, Secant knew, would be no lighter if it were kept in a simple silicon crystal, etched and doped with chemical photoresist materials. As such, Secant was glad, for some inhabitants of the charged star had fallen victim to particularly dense records falling through the insubstantial floors that made up this reality.
It should be noted that such floors was made of the same whimsical material that prevented the charged surface of the star from leaking in and burning everything alive. Not that Secant was worried about it, though insubstantial the floor was, it definitively reflected an intensity that belied its true nature. Which was to hold things up, and to hold things back. What it deemed necessary was not something Secant would question.
That was a job for Audit personnel.
Whenever such an event happened, Secant would pity the resident responsible for the record, and the mortals within it. No being knows what happens when a record touches the charged surface of the star, but Secant thought that the erasure of all mortals written within the record could not possibly be a good feeling. For the resident, or the mortals concerned for that matter.
Finally, Secant managed to work out the volume. Drifting to the usual spot beside ancient tablets bearing the descriptions of mortals from volume 2,345—Secant’s favourite volume—the inhabitant tapped an inscriptive device on the tabular surface of a raven. The raven squawked and shifted a little, but Secant didn’t complain, for ravens made the best writing desks.
In a decisive gesture, Secant changed a word within the registry, then sat back, admiring the results.
He closed the volume with a resounding boom.
Or at least, there would have been a large boom if sound could carry in this space. Unfortunately, it did not, so impressive effort was expended without much to show for it.
Though the effort of changing one word in the Registry of Mortals wouldn’t seem like a significant event to Secant, the effect certainly had an effect on a human locked within argument over a last-minute sale at the airport of Terminal 691…
—————
“Look, I’m not asking for a refund, I just want you to be aware that this was stale. You should not be selling stale goods to your customers.”
“I understand sir, would you like a complimentary beverage?”
“From here? Certainly not! I would like to speak to the manager of this establishment!”
The cashier sighed, with tired, bloodshot eyes wearily taking in the time. It would be closing time soon, and the gentlemen on the other side was being persistent enough to warrant multiple concessions, for which she was only happy to give, if he would let her.
“How about vouchers? A replacement?”
The gentleman evidently thought himself a hero of the consumer proletariat, for he flourished with his arms to emphasise his impassioned speech. It didn’t have as much of an impact as he liked, because the nasally tone to which he used to convey his words, could not further underscore the veracity of his claims. It rather detracted from it.
“Listen here,” he muttered unpleasantly. “I—”
He paused and cocked his head, as a dog might when hearing an unfamiliar frequency.
“What was that?” he mumbled to himself.
The human was wrong on many accounts. Perhaps a more accurate description for the noise would be when was that, or where was that. He could be forgiven for being mistaken though, because such a sound heralded something very serious indeed…
It was the sound of spacetime ripping.
It's a very rough draft, so apologies for the many mistakes.
I suppose it's better than having the same thing happen because they want to get into his pants instead, but otherwise, it doesn't stand out as a story concept all that much. It would need a little bit extra, like for example being, in fact, absolutely true. It would be more of a central plot arc for the character to overcome if it also applied to things like the 80+ hairs you lose on the typical day and caused all sorts of literally epic problems both to the character and to everyone he meets. Throwing a dragon's teeth on the ground supposedly raises undead skeletal warriors under your command, for example.
I honestly think it would be more interesting if human, say, blood really does have some near legendary potent magical or alchemical effect compared to being just hearsay.
Would make the moral dilemma far more grey and interesting in my opinion if, again as example, a mug of human blood can turn a zero-talent apprentice into an archmage. Or a flight-camp attendee into Wonderbolt material with a single sip.
That way, even the good-guy ponies would be tempted to at least ask politely.
So the first character is a librarian/archivist?
And the cashier? Would she wreck ponies that try to take her life fluid? Or can intimidate those that she judges unworthy? Grind their bones to make her bread? Fee fi fo fum? Attack on Human? data.archive.moe/board/a/image/1347/12/1347120431552.jpg
Human eats horses? Big Mac senses a disturbance in the force.
i.ytimg.com/vi/v8cHljx-Zkw/hqdefault.jpg Tough managers.
Grilled cheese sandviches are good therefore i approve this.....not that you need my approval or anything but it does sound like a interesting concept
I can imagine the mane six going to hunt the human. Someone comments it's said humans are attracted to virgins, and the mane six end up in a big argument among themselves because of their own preconceived ideas of the sexual lives of their friends.
For the text you have written, it gives me a feel of Marvel cosmic stories.
That reminds me of this story.