Title:           Anon's Radical Day - Part 1
Author:          Weasel_Anon
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/TKxByuDk
First Edit:      Wednesday 11th of June 2014 06:39:15 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Wednesday 11th of June 2014 06:39:15 PM CDT

>Day squats in Ponyville.
>You are Anonymous and you're having a blast.
>Literally.
 
Be earlier:
>A travelling bazaar had come to town, having trekked along all of Equestria from Saddle Arabia and with them came some items from the mundane to the magically extravagant.
>At least that's how Twilight put it.
>She had banged on your front door for more than five minutes before letting herself in to pull you out of bed, shouting about a once in a lifetime chance to learn about other cultures.
>Fucking happy horse land with almost no crime; you needed to put a lock on that damn door.
>Forcing yourself to climb out of your only sanctuary, you prepared for the arduous day ahead.
>Yeah you weren't really a morning guy.
>The next hour or so was spent waddling through street upon street of multicoloured tents and stalls as tall ponies – or horses rather – tried hocking their various pieces of crap to you.
>Despite it being a market, Twilight didn't seem interested in actually buying anything; instead opting to peer and examine every item that grabbed her interest, much to the vendors' annoyance of course.
>Boredom slowly overtook you, causing daydreams of a particular Sunbutt to invade your mind.
>Damn you could praise that sun all day.
>You did this until you felt a tightening sensation in your trousers.
>Down Anon Jr.
>Anon Jr listened to you for now but you suddenly realised that you had stopped moving and Twilight was long gone, most likely oblivious to your absence given her tendency to go on a roll when it came to lecturing and studying.
>You were now on your own, surrounded by all manner of slippery merchants and tradesmen... ponies... err horse things, whatever.
>You turned to walk back in the direction of what you assumed to be your house amongst this labyrinth of fabric yet a chilling sensation tingled down your spine as your attention was diverted to soft whispers mingling in your left ear.
>Facing the origin of the mysterious voice you see the old and weathered face of a horse stick from between the flaps of a particularly large, purple tent.
>He beckons you towards him with a wave off his hoof and a cryptic smile.
>You're not sure why you listened to him but you reckoned an old coot would have something cool to buy.
>The horse continued to sink into the shadows of the tent as you drew closer until you stood before the dark passage, the indistinguishable smell of antiques and strong wooden varnish assaulted your nostrils causing your nose hairs to curl up and your eyes to water slightly.
>Ignoring the potential bad omens you stepped into the dimly lit abode.
>It was...
>It was interesting to say the least.
>Makeshift racks lined the walls of the tent's insides, each one carrying a mishmash of items of an abstract nature, there was no definitive sorting to them and no similarity either.
>In one area there was a small pack of frying pans followed quickly by large instruments not too different from a didgeridoo.
>In another place, an assortment of unique blades hanging adjacent to fine rugs as they danced slowly in the calm breeze filtering in from behind you.
>Finally your attention settled on the horse that had beckoned you to this place.
>He was behind a small wooden counter, a crooked smile on his face and a pair of dusty old glasses resting over his eyes.
>The counter itself appeared to be even older than him, which was more than likely given the nature of the shop.
>It read a simple message in the Equish language which Twilight had spent months drilling into you.
'Drinn's Dispatch'
>You stroll over to the old horse as he adjusts his glasses and renews his smile, grinning at you in an even more unsettling fashion.
>He leans over the wooden surface and stares you down, causing you to shift your gaze around the room in order to avoid his.
>Finally in a dry yet hearty voice he speaks out.
>”Ah. A new customer. Splendid, absolutely splendid my boy. Now what brings you here?”
>You stare at him and point at his face.
“You. You brought me here when you called me over.”
>He guffaws and looks at you incredulously as though you had just tried to mug him.
>”I've done no such thing. I think the heat and desert sands are getting to your head my good sir.”
>You were about to point out that while it was indeed sunny out, you were quite a ways away from anything remotely resembling the desert sands and heat of Saddle Arabia, but you let it go considering his age.
>He was probably senile anyway; instead you opt to humour him and follow along.
“Well nothing has really grabbed my attention yet. What have you got?”
>He chuckles this time and spreads his forelegs into the air, pointing all around the tent.
>”Why my boy. We have everything you could possibly want under the great yellow sun. From the ordinary to the extraordinary and everything in between. The mundane, the lethal, the medicinal and the magical. What tickles your fancy today?”
“I'm not quite sure. Got anything radical?”
>His grin turns into a slight scowl as he rubs his jaw in a contemplative manner; eventually extending his hoof into the air in a sign of success and immediately dives under the counter, rummaging about for a good ten seconds before returning with a small wooden chest which he carefully sets down on the surface between the two of you.
>”I think this should suitably wet your appetite.”
>He spins the wooden chest around on the counter so the latch is facing you and slowly prise it open.
>Within, sitting on a red velvet cushion, is pair of old, worn, oak knee-pads.
>Runes are delicately carved into the surface all over and at the centre of each pad a small blue stone rests, a slight glow emanating from both.
“Knee-pads? These are knee-pads.”
>He raises a hoof to hush you before slowly removing the ornate objects from their protective home and setting them before you so that you may observe them better.
>”These aren't just any knee-pads my boy. These knee-pads hail all the way from the Neighpalese mountains. They're said to have been constructed by ancient Minotaur monks hundreds of years ago, before the land was annexed by King Sombra shortly into his attempted crusade across the planet. The monks were wiped out, but their relics remain; some simple, others safeguarded in a shroud of mystery and danger. These magically enchanted knee-pads are supposed to grant the wearer a permanent shroud, so long as they wear them, they shall befall little harm and command the most dangerous element of all... fire.”
>He finishes his little soliloquy and nudges the chest a little closer to you; a cheeky grin now encompassing his face.
>It's your turn now to contemplate as you hold the items in your hands, turning them over to get a look at the insides which prove to be just as worn as the the exteriors, if not then more so.
“I don't know. Twilight warned me that magic doesn't seem to react well with my body. Something to do with me not being of this realm or other. No natural magic in my body to regulate external magical stimulus.”
>He straightens up at this and taps his muzzle with his hoof, seemingly in thought once more.
>”Twilight. As in the young Princess? Why that's quite the honour to be in the presence of royalty and I'm sure she is well versed in the field of magic but I am sure she is not omniscient. A creature of your stature could easily handle an artifact so great. But still, I shall do you a bargain. 50 bits for the foreign devices for a creature as foreign as you are.”
>You stare at the knee-pads for a moment longer.
>What was the worst that could happen.
>If they didn't work on you then you could give them to Twilight for her to study.
>Fishing in your pocket you pull out 2 large coins and 2 smaller ones before settling them on the desk.
“All I've got is 40.”
>He scoops the coins into his hooves and bites one cautiously.
>Looking back at you he extends a hoof across the counter which you meet halfway and shake.
>”Sold.”
>You nod to him and scoop the knee-pads back into the chest before picking it up and heading towards the exit.
>Before you can leave he calls once more across the tent, grabbing your attention.
>”Where did you say you were from again my boy? I've never seen anything like you.”
>Turning around you snatch a scarf from one of the hooks and wrap it around your neck before putting on your best hipster expression and stare dryly at your fingernails.
>”I'm from this place called Earth. You've probably never heard of it.”
>And with that you step out under the mourning sun once more, leaving behind a rather puzzled and bewildered looking horse.
>It's not until several minutes later that he realises you've niggered him and taken one of his scarves.
>”Fuck.”
 
>You're now walking around Ponyville with a pair of bitchin' knee-pads on and a bit of swagger in your step as you twirl your newly acquired scarf.
>You can feel the magical energy in the knee-pads course though your body like water through a pipe seeing as you put up little resistance, but it didn't really worry you.
>The scarf is also a bit garish for you, but hey, it was on discount.
>100% to be precise.
>You chuckle internally at your own joke before realising that doing so makes you seem autistic.
>Dropping the shenanigans you stroll over to Twilight's treebrary, letting yourself in through the front door.
>It's been a good 30 minutes since you lost Twilight now and it was time to show her the fruits of your efforts, as well as getting her to help you work them.
>If she was here that was.
>You stood in the middle of an empty foyer, no sign of Twilight anywhere.
>”Twilight... you here?”
>No verbal response is heard but a busy looking Spike comes walking out of the kitchen with an apron on and a mop in hand.
>”Anon? What are you doing here? Twilight has been looking for you.”
>You shrug it off and point at the bookshelves.
“Sand horse sold me something poweful and extreme. I need your help.”
>He sets the mop down and looks towards the bookshelves your pointing at.
>”Cool. You need a book?”
“Yeah. For these.”
>You point down at the two knee-pads adorning your lower joints and flex your legs around a bit for good measure.
>Spike moves closer, eyeing them up before tapping them gently with his claw, receiving a small 'thud, thud, thud' as the wood reverberates slightly.
>He notices the stones and peers even closer before running his tongue over one of them, causing you to jerk back on reflex.
“What the fuck dude?”
>”Hehe. Sorry. They looked so good, tasted good too.”
“Whatever. Just don't eat them. They're magical thingamajigs and they cost me a lot of bits.”
>”Really?”
“Nah I haggled down the price, but they're still pretty cool. They're supposed to give me command over fire or some shit like that. I'm sure Twilight has a book on activating magical and dangerous artifacts around here somewhere. Surely.”
>Spike's face brightens up and he point to one of the shelves on the other end of the room.
>”Oh yeah, sure. Twilight has an entire shelf on that sort of stuff.”
>Your joke seems to go right over his head as you stare at him in disbelief.
“Right. Of course she would.”
>Walking over to the shelf in question, you notice it is the highest one out of the lot; hidden away from kids and the lot.
>Makes sense you suppose.
>Grabbing the railed ladder, you slide it across to the desired shelf and scale the rungs to the top shelf, grabbing the first book in the row.
>Sliding back down you put the book on the closest desk and look at the cover.
>'Artifacts and You: The Complete Guide to All Things Magically Imbued'
>Flipping through the contents and pages disproved the title as it seemed to have nothing on actually starting the damn things in the first place.
>Oh well. On to the next book.
>This process repeated for several minutes as you cleared the shelf, book by book, flicking through their innards before dumping them on the desk and picking another.
>You were reaching the end of the shelf now, with 20 or more so books scattered across the table below.
>Grabbing another book spine you were momentarily distracted by the sound of a door latch working and the slight tinkling sound of a bell above a door being jingled.
>”Oh Anon, there you are; I was looking everywhere for you and... my books!” she practically yelled the last part as she dove towards the table.
>Her sudden outburst caused you to jump slightly, which was a bad thing considering you were on a ladder.
>You slipped off but managed to right yourself mid-air, landing abruptly on your feet, causing your knees to buckle.
>The next moment was distorted by a blinding light and an intense ringing in your ears, followed shortly by a feeling of extreme heat washing over your body.
>Vision and sound slowly returned to you as did the smell of fire and ash, causing you to choke and gag slightly.
>It was only then that you realised you were slumped slightly in a small blackened crater in the corner of the library, or at least what used to be the corner of the library.
>Where the bookshelf and table had been, there was now a large gaping hole through which several ponies stared in shock towards you.
>The edges of this hole were blackened and charred as well as several books close to the hole being on fire.
>Rising from the ashes was a now soot covered Twilight and Spike as they stared in shock at the damages that had been done to their home.
>She wiped most of the black from her face and turned to you; seething fury boiling up inside of her.
>In a strained and venomous tongue she said one thing to you.
>”Anon... what was that!?”
>You take one more look around the library before staring down at your knee-pads and smiling.
“That.... was radical.”
 
Be present time:
>Well Twilight quickly removed you from the library.
>And by 'remove' you meant she tossed you out of the large hole face first with her telekinesis, mumbling to herself about it being the second time and needing to contact Celestia.
>Even with a mouthful of soil nothing could remove the hugest, shit eating grin from your face.
>You took a moment to compose yourself, standing from your spot in the dirt and taking the time to slowly brush down your suit, fixing the tie as you went.
>Inspecting the knee-pads a second time showed you that they had sustained minimal – if anything – damage and you could feel the magical charge start to build in you once more.
>Neat.
>Now you just needed to find something else to do with them.
>Walking around for an answer yielded results shortly as Pinkie charging at you with lightning speeds, stopping on the spot mere millimetres away from your face.
>”Hey Nonny. What's up?”
“It's Anon, Ponke.”
>”I'll stop callig you Nonny when you stop calling me Ponke.”
>You had to give her that one.
“All right, fair enough. Truth be told, I don't really know. I'm looking for something to do.”
>Her sugar levels seem to rise at this as she starts vibrating on the spot, proceeding to snap into her saddlebag and retrieve a small flyer before handing it to you.
>”I can't really help you now but later me and Applejack are throwing an Apple family style hoedown for the whole town to enjoy as a 'sorry that you have to leave so soon' party for the Saddle Arabians. Though none of them seem to want to go.”
“Bummer.”
>Her expression sours a little before perking right back up again leaning ever so slightly closer to your face on her hind legs.
>”But you'll go. Won't you Nonny?”
>Sensing opportunity, you fold the flyer up and slot it into the front pocket inside your jacket before giving Pinkie a pat on the head.
“Sure thing Ponke. Wouldn't miss it for the world.”
>She springs into the air with glee, causing you to stumble backwards slightly with surprise, allowing her the space with wiggle her legs so fast that she slowed her descent to the ground sightly.
>Fucking Ponke logic.
>”Yay! That's super Nonny. I'll see you there. Oh. Twilight lives near here; I should give one to her. She'll like that.”
>You grab Pinkie's tail right before she darts off and slide another flyer from her bag before waving it for her to see.
“Don't worry Pinkie. I'm about to go to Twilight's anyway. I'll drop it off for you, save you some time,” you casually lie to her.
>She instantly darts around and gives you a vice like hug, slowly crushing the oxygen from your lungs.
>”Oh thank you thank you thank you.” She squeals as she releases you. “Now I only have to deliver 237 more flyers to everypony in Ponyville rather than 238. Thanks Anon see you later.”
>And with that she darts off into the distance to make the rest of her rounds.
>Wiping some sweat from your forehead, you slick your hair back and remove the scarf so you could pop your collar.
>Swinging the scarf over your left shoulder, you waltz back into the maze of merchant stalls down the street, a look of contentment easing over your features.
>Today is going to get extreme.