The conclusion to the Ipsywitch story.
As I will never get to drawing the end of the old blog and people have asked I’ve written down a condensed ending, here is the end of Ipsywitch.———————————————————————–
The scavenging party slipped back into the boarded-up house as dawn light crept across the land, bounding excitedly down the secret stair way to the waiting assembly amidst the guttering candles.
They cantered pridefully to the large robed figure stood at the waterside, the one who found the book trotting up to him with a toothy, unfriendly smile
“Where is Lady Ipsywitch?” she demanded.
Escher looked sternly at the restless deep-pony, shifting erratically on it hooves in front of him “My wife is sleeping, no one is to wake her”
“The book is for her! We sought it on her command!” It snapped, the other members of the search party looking around from behind her, heads weaving gently like predatory birds with their lidless unblinking eyes.
“She must sleep! I can wait!” He stamped his heavy front hooves and snorted, the unblinking seaponies backing away. Escher held his head high in a victory that lasted only a moment as he realised they had not back away from him. The pleasant warm spiced scent of the red haired deep-pony filled the air as she slid passed his side, rubbing herself against him.
“They lady must rest” She purred in a voice like silken razors “bring me to book”
They presented the scorched tome and placed it upon the pedestal in the central chamber, Starry-Eyed Surprise flicking slowly through the pages of the book, occasionally pausing to trace a split hooved claw over a name and follow its line of descendantcy, she muttered and pondered, slowly a smile widening across her face.
“Yes, this will make things much easier” She turned to the hooded assembly “We know who carries our blood here. Go! Seek and find them! bring them to the faith brothers and sisters!”
There was no cheer, this was not a cheering crowd, as one it lowered its many heads in submissive agreement.
Mares and stallions of the hooded fellowship made their way into the town undercover of night, they sought names from the lists, speaking in beguiling and seductive words until the followed into the jewellery shop and down a secret door to a subterranean world, the watered down deep-pony bloodlines being bolstered and crossed with the seaponies from the caverns depths, the groups number slowly swelling as under the influences of the deep-ponies the Shoggoth now fully grown set to work dissolving through the rock and stone, following narrow fissures and seems it worked to underground waterways and streams, cutting narrow passages to wide paths as the fellowship gathered more blood to its numbers, those beckoned and seduced into its halls that were too weak in the line and beyond other use served to feed is endless appetite.
Over time the town grew weary and worried, too many missing, too much terrible singing and noise from boarded up supposedly devoid of life, worried pleas for help eventually made their way to the highest levels.
When the guards broke through the door the house was empty save for strange decoration and allot more food than a handful of ponies would have needed, an exhaustive search eventually found a trap door hidden under a grain sack in the cellar. Forcing it open revealed a stairway down to a cave in the living darkness below, too far down they realised something hand shut the way behind them, and now the ground was moving under their hooves as many eyes opened across the walls.
By this time the party had made its way down river and cave, avoiding daylight here possible all the way to the coast where the Seaponies that had made the journey with them slipped into the estuary and made their way out to sea as the others waited behind; they would make the descent into the dark reef a mile off shore. Everything was in place now all that was needed was to wait.
On the night of the first full moon the waters around Whinniesmouth boiled and churned. From the deeps the black reef pushed its way to the surface, driving massive carved stone edifices above the waterline for the first time in millennia. The black temple of ancient basalt breached the surface, surrounded by monumental stone rings encircling it, sea water gushing and streaming from the arches exposed to the air after untold ages.
Scales glistening silver in the moonlight the seaponies spilled onto the land.
A leaping, trashing tide that swelled up ramps and shores, crashing onto quays and docks they came in an enumerable throng. Terrified ponies stampeded inland from the coast pushing past bleary eyed slumberers awoken by the panic, the crowd tormenting around a procession of robed figures that made its way calmly towards the shore, a brace of heavy guards in armour spearheading the path clear for the smaller cultists all the way to the sea front where they stopped and waited.
The tide of aquatic monsters subsided at this spot, the waters calming unnaturally as beneath the waves and unearthly song seeped it way, heralding a cadre of seapony sirens decked in monstrous jewellery, their arrival preceding a monstrous crustacean that clambered ponderously up the cobbled ship ramp, moving smoothly, barley jostling a pale seapony sat in the throne of shells mounted atop is hideous back, the beast stooping to allow her dismount. Four heavy set and smoothly scaled deep ones plated in silvery armour flanked her side as she approached, the now kneeling procession of cultists, de-hooding herself before them Ipsy stood at the fore, alone. The smooth skinned Pathaela Laei observing the group coldly as around them the seemingly endless flow of seaponies of every sort steamed onto land. Lowering her head the sea pony priestess rubbed her cheek tenderly against her daughters, uttering a warm greeting in their monstrous elder speech.
Ipsy spoke back in the old tongue briefly, her words earning as much a look of surprise and joy as that unblinking smooth face could show, turning back she beckoned Escher to approach, the basket held gently in his teeth, its contents peering curiously over its rim with huge silver eyes.
Pathaela gave a delighted cooing noise as she beheld her granddaughter for the first time, nosing the filly gently.
All around them in their isolated bubble of ritualistic greeting the world was going to hell, some ponies fleeing, some fighting, none were succeeding against the seemingly endless horde of underwater horrors that swept over the land in a glistening silver tide.
The end had come with their horrible song.
Shooby dooby doo.