My Little Wuxia: A Canter-Kong Wedding

Seeing the changeling and the manager mostly taken of, Marshal set his next target as the Barista. Two quick hooves knock a single biscotti off the cook's head in clean swipes. The hard pastries fly through the air like the tasty bullets they are, impacting the target with extreme prejudice.

Seeing the wall of ponies forming, he quickly decides to use it to get closer to the foe. He creeps around and jumps into their midst, then leaps over their heads to try and get a drop on her, at the same time assuming a new stance. The Barista sees him coming, but it doesn't limit his stance in the least. His hooves ready, a sheen of sugar now coats his body, and he is ready to intercept any incoming attack with glass-like armor.

Wushu Rolls:

The manager has scarcely enough time to let out a 'yeep' as she's suddenly rushed by both the luchador beside her (which she was expecting) and the old fogey in front of her (which she wasn't expecting quite as much). She manages a last bolt towards the big guy, but her stance makes it difficult at best and the bolt strikes La Viento on the hip and glances off onto the floor and into the shelves of alcohol behind the wrestler, showering him in a thick rain of bottled drinks. The manager doesn't get a second chance before she's bludgeoned and grappled by the two ponies.

The changeling looks extremely offended at Plowclaw's words, rearing back and winding up a mighty kick with her foreleg. "Of course I'm a mare you feathered f-" she growls, before the griffon takes the opportunity to kick her into the air and shatters a chandelier into her face. Looking up at the opportune target, Uncle and La Viento grab the squirming manager and hurl her into the airborne tangle, smashing her into the two so hard the 'manager' keeps flying straight on through to crash through the window while the once-disguised changeling stops with a 'whump'.

The three tumble to the ground, the undisguised changeling clutching at her eyes and screaming a torrent of curses that prompts one of the customers to plant her hooves firmly over the ears of a nearby filly. "Awwww but muuuuuum!" she whines.

Cast Dice finds the tied up ponies in remarkably worse condition than the unicorn that had just teleported out - they're clearly the ponies that they'd mistaken for the staff earlier, but... older. In fact, much older. Even the real barista looks like he could be senior management. Thankfully they're all still breathing, but the way they're staring past her reminds her of old soldiers.

"Alright!  Don't just hide there, let's show these ponies- if that's even what they are- what a mistake it is to mess with us!  Call on your pre-Equestrian martial heritage!  You should know what I'm talking about, pegasi!  Everypony form a Hayennic* phalanx!  Break the table legs!  Unicorns, float them ahead as spears- if there's extra legs pick them up!  Everypony else push the tables forward as shields!  Advance with me now!"

The other patrons look at Cast Dice like she's gone mad. They aren't soldiers by any stretch of the imagination - they seem more accustomed to wine and finery than any sort of labour, and most the pegasi in the room look like they've never pushed a cloud in their lives. But something about her words sparks something in them, and after a moment the filly from before manages to pull free from her mother and charges the barista, bellowing a mighty, squeaking battlecry as she leaps onto the faux-stallion and bites down on an ear. He twists and turns, hunting for the sound of the voice suddenly behind him, twirling in confusion before being struck by two pieces of hard bread and a table smashing across his head. It's too much for him, and he collapses, tiny ear-biting fillies, teleporting unicorns, and bread dancing around in circles over his head.

It's all it takes to spur the rest of the crowd into action, and while they don't seem to manage to follow the plan they more than make up for it with enthusiasm. Within seconds the barista is tightly bound in a length of measuring tape, a mutton-chopped stallion already recounting the story of how he once overcame a rare and naturally incredibly deadly hippolytan mountain dragon the same way.

For the moment, things calm, though the fight rages on outside.

Spoiler:

Uncle took a few deep breaths, not breaking his stance as he looks at all of the older ponies with a soft cuss. "What did those things do to you?"

The light blue unicorn mare steps forward, even though the question wasn't really directed at her.
"Oh, you know, just an ambush when we showed up for shifts which resulted in us being tied up together upstairs and these changeling things pretending to be us down here. About par for the course for how crappy a normal day is."

Pingcode wrote:
The changeling looks extremely offended at Plowclaw's words, rearing back and winding up a mighty kick with her foreleg. "Of course I'm a mare you feathered f-" she growls, before the griffon takes the opportunity to kick her into the air and shatters a chandelier into her face. Looking up at the opportune target, Uncle and La Viento grab the squirming manager and hurl her into the airborne tangle, smashing her into the two so hard the 'manager' keeps flying straight on through to crash through the window while the once-disguised changeling stops with a 'whump'.

The three tumble to the ground, the undisguised changeling clutching at her eyes and screaming a torrent of curses that prompts one of the customers to plant her hooves firmly over the ears of a nearby filly. "Awwww but muuuuuum!" she whines.

Within seconds the barista is tightly bound in a length of measuring tape, a mutton-chopped stallion already recounting the story of how he once overcame a rare and naturally incredibly deadly hippolytan mountain dragon the same way.

For the moment, things calm, though the fight rages on outside.

Plow's beak contorts through a few different emotions before sighing, disentangling himself, and heading for the cafe counter. He grabs a pair of cups, filling them with ice and water, and some cloth napkins, delivering the first to Iggy, using the cold sweat from the cup on a napkin to act as a cold compress on the Pony's forehead... Before heading over to the swearing changeling.

"Hey, knock it off, there's foals around." He bonks her lightly on the forehead with the cup of ice water. "Get your hooves off your eyes so I can check the damage." Well, with all the holes in them there's a chance he can anyway. He will accept any punch she throws at this point as a matter of course, settling in to make sure she's not actually blinded or anything.

Because Plow is a Doofus.:

He starts trying to make sure she's okay, using the cold cup and the napkins to patch her up.

"I'm still mad at you. You hurt my friend. But everybody deserves a little kindness. Fight's over, you hurt him, I hurt you. There's no way to really undo the damage."

He gives her an amused grin.

"And sorry about the female thing, Lady. I wasn't exactly trying to check or anything. Not even sure what you are. Name's Plowclaw, griffon, natch. Probably owe you a rematch later without assistance."

He waits a moment for a return introduction, and shrugs either way, trying to finish the patch job.

"Aaanyway, I need to go help my friends fight your friends, and that's about all I can do, so.. uh..."

He strikes his best 'Dad' pose, trying to intimidate the Changeling.

Intimidate:

"Go sit in that chair and think about what you've done!"

He gestures at the nearest still intact chair, then deflates slightly and hands her the ice-water cup too.

...Well, whatever her response ends up being he's going to start looking around the room. Hm. Well, pony pony pony pony pony... ah ha!

"Hey Max! Can I borrow one of your hammers? I need to get back out there."

NPC Sweet and Elite:

The former prisoners say nothing, their breathing shallow and that same shell-shocked look remaining fixed to their faces. The scene is burned deeply into Whispersong's mind, though it slides away when she tries to think about it too hard - her employers getting pinned down by their changeling doppelgangers, the green mist being drawn from them, and the way they withered away, their vivre crumbling away in an instant.

Over in the middle of the room, the changeling snorts, wincing as the injuries act up again. Her face is something of a mess, carapace scratched and cut where glass had penetrated shell. It's better than it could have been, though, and the important bits had managed to escape harm. "Arthropos. I'll have to remember you, Plowclaw," she says, not resisting as she's led to an intact chair and bound, "Such altruism. You'll be good for at least five, maybe even six cycles." The griffon can't help but feel like he was just compared to a particularly delicious turkey dinner. It's not a very comfortable feeling.

Maxwell gingerly sidles up to Plowclaw and drops a pronged hammer into a waiting claw. "Take good care of Lucy." he whispers, hesitating for a moment before stepping back.

"I will do my total best, Max."

There's a look of reverence on his face as he admires the hammer before tightening his grip on it.

"Time to whack some jerks."

He just gives Artho... Arthri.... Art a look, shuddering in his feathers.

"Save it for the rematch Art. Heal up first."

He heads for the front door, pausing slightly.

"Hey, anyone mind being a bit of backup? I'm okay in a fight, but if Art there was going toe to toe with me I'm pretty sure I'm not going to handle things on my own. Anyone who's not going out should probably just work on keeping this place tightened up."

The Jokes!:

Uncle cracks his neck again, grumbling slightly and walking over to the Changeling, lightly thwacking it on the head with his fan. "Explain who you are, now. Explain what you are, what your intentions are, what you've done to these ponies, everything." Any complaints the changeling, Art, does get a thwack on the head again. Not hard enough to cause any permanent damage, but enough to smart.

Spoiler:

The whole time Plowclaw is being nice to the changeling, Whispersong jut stares at the scene like Plowclaw is a complete idiot. She winces a little bit when the changeling mentions what a good meal he'll make. Memories flashing and fading once more.

I don't care what that stupid Griffon thinks, these things deserve no mercy.

"I can help fight, but it's all pointless if you plan to heal everything we beat up. These things are monsters," she remarks, briefly giving Art a death glare, "and they don't deserve our help. They just think it makes us better snacks."

He blinks back at Whisper and smiles a bit.

"Everyone deserves a bit of help. And I'm not planning on healing the.. whatever they are when I beat them up. But if I had glass in my face I'd appreciate if it was out before I got captured. Suffering breeds nothing but anger and resentment, especially when you get caught. Pain teaches lessons. And... I don't really get that attitude, but then I don't get much of anything about them. They're hurting my friends and I'm going to hurt them. That's the basic answer."

He laughs a bit.

"Besides, if you ponies can't figure out some way to fix this after we get things under control, then I don't know who could. Between the princesses and all the brainy ponies in Canterlot there'll be a fix in no time, just wait and see."

He gives her a beaky grin.

"So come on, let's get out there and kick some tailfeathers before too many other people get hurt."

He turns back to the door before pausing for a moment.

"Uh... Pretty sure I don't know your name. Sorry. I'm Plowclaw."

"I'm Whispersong, but just call me Whisper," she says, still looking a little miffed.

Marshal cleans the excess sugar from his coat in time to catch the short argument. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Plowclaw. Journeycolt Marshal at your service. Anyway, Ms. Whispersong was it? Yes, if our enemies cannot expect mercy in defeat, then what should we expect? I don't plan to lose anytime soon, but there is wisdom to be humble in victory." After a quick bow, he turns to Uncle and his captive.

"I should like to know where what you are as well. There's more of you out there terrorizing the cityfolk, and one of you mentioned we make good meals earlier. What is this?"

The changeling winces as the fan whaps across her face, though it doesn't have as much of an effect as Uncle would have preferred, having to go through the carapace as it does. "Haha, terrorism? You think this about fear?" she cackles, glancing outside where shouts of alarm and the sounds of combat are slowly being replaced by screams of terror, "Mmm. Don't feel bad. Your love will fuel a new golden age."

Plowclaw steps outside to a market in disarray, the air thick with changelings and panicking ponies. Guards lie collapsed and shivering, here and there, though a few are fighting on in small pockets. Stands stacked high with fruit and knickknacks stand nearly undisturbed throughout the plaza, while the tall scaffolding of the construction works across the street clamour with the sounds of a running battle.

Whispersong can't take it anymore, the memory flashbacks, the pain, the carnage going on around her, and this changeling talking like that. It's all too much. She lets out a fearsome scream as she leaps at the chair and starts smashing her hooves into the changeling repeatedly.
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I'm going to end each and every one of you little bastards!" she screams, tears streaming down her face.

Spoiler:

Wincing at the little unicorn's outburst, Marshal moves fast. "I may have just met you, but this is not the time to panic, Ms. Whisper."

With that, a pie from nowhere lands on Whispersong's face. "I hope that this pastry helps you calm down. Violence is never the answer. Unless it is the answer, but I don't think it is this time."

A Calming Pie Shall Sooth You:

Whisper just stops at the sudden pie in her face. It drips off of her slowly as the tin falls down onto the changeling. The rock clatters to the ground.
"Was there a rock in that pie?" Whisper asks, and then collapses to the ground.

"How did that... I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!" Marshal goes to make sure there's no damage. It seems like every twentieth pie has a rock in it! What's up with that? Luckily, it seems it was more the pie and the stress than the blunt-force trauma.

As Marshal examines Whisper, her eyes flutter open a bit and stay about halfway open. She seems to be muttering something under her breath but Marshal can't quite make it out.

"You haven't answered Uncle's questions."  Dice said to the changeling "It doesn't matter what we think this is about- when you can tell us what actually is happening.  Although it's clear it's been planned for a while, with elaborate infiltration prepared beforehand.  Beats me what the strategic importance of infiltrating a cafe would be..."

Looking surprisingly serious, still in her silly old-fashioned helmet, Dice turned to the other ponies (and griffon) who had participated the most in the fighting.

"In any case, I agree with Mr. Plowclaw there - we should be out there defending Canterlot, whether our captive here tells us what's going on or no.  Marshal, you should perhaps save your pies for the enemy..."

Spoiler:

Pingcode wrote:Plowclaw steps outside to a market in disarray, the air thick with changelings and panicking ponies. Guards lie collapsed and shivering, here and there, though a few are fighting on in small pockets. Stands stacked high with fruit and knickknacks stand nearly undisturbed throughout the plaza, while the tall scaffolding of the construction works across the street clamour with the sounds of a running battle.

"Hey, Guys can we maybe not hurt Art while she's... aww nuts."

He's already flaring his wings and heading into the air.

"I could use some hooves and claws out here guys!"

He's not going to wait any longer than that, swinging Lucy up as he rushes to reach a familiar face in the guards still fighting.

Rainbow Dash to Your Side:

And aims to convert his momentum into a massive golf swing with Lucy to the Changeling attacking his friend, the Guard Rocker.

FORE!:

"Hey Rocker! How're things out here? Busy? Yeah, I can see that. Hey, sorry don't have time to chat, working on giving you guys a breather, be right back. HEY SNOWPEA! HEAD'S UP!"

Dashing Defender! Daring! Devastating!:

Coming in lower than before, being closer to the other guards, Plow has to work his wings harder to avoid his friends. To bring the hammer up in an assisted uppercut, hopefully knocking the changeling back. The main goal of these two moves WAS to ease up the pressure, after all.

"FIVE!"

No, it's fore Plow. Fore.:

"Bang Bang! So, hey, not to be rude or anything, but it seems like things might've gotten slightly out of hand. Any official word on what we're supposed to be doing besides kicking plot?"

"And then, with a mighty leap, I pulled him with with me into the sky! He screamed at me, 'Let go!' So I did, giving him my signature Hurricane Body Press!" He lifts his chin proudly, finished recounting his tale to the young ones... And adults, regardless if they cared or not. "And that is the story of how La Viento felled the great King Scorpion!"

Curunir wrote:"In any case, I agree with Mr. Plowclaw there - we should be out there defending Canterlot, whether our captive here tells us what's going on or no.  Marshal, you should perhaps save your pies for the enemy..."

His ears perk up, and he swivels around just in time to see the griffon leap out the window and dash off. "Whoa! Ah! I mean," He looks at the group surrounding the changeling. "She is right! We must take action! You all fight well, and La Viento can respect that! We need to get out there, and defend the innocent in the name of Equestria!"

Without any confirmation from the others, he also dashes off.

Uncle collects a tea set, floating it behind him along with his fan in his mouth as he follows. "Ping Dynasty Chineigh dishes. If I don't use these against these creatures, I can probably use them for my tea in the evenings.."

"Plowclaw?...  La Viento?... " Dice called out after the griffon and luchador-pony.  "Ah... uh... I was hoping for a more organized plan of resistance..."

"...Ah well, what the hay, buck tactics... CHARGE!" and with that she ran out the door a number of paces behind La Viento- and way behind the fast-moving griffon.