The Surgeon of Marabia
But first, some author notes (because this webiste doesn't allow me to post a chapter that consists only of author's notes)
Note to non-Tropers:
(If you don't know what a Troper is, you are a non-Troper.)
There is a website known as TV Tropes. It's a website for (to grossly oversimplify) discussing fiction. You can read more about it on their main page.
There is a huge brony community on TV Tropes. Some members of this community decided to create a fake canon for the Daring Do books, creating a page where they could have a fake discussion about the imaginary books, talking from the perspective of ponies. The page has expanded past the point where most real book series would end, consisting of multiple book series, movies, and other media. They even have a page discussing all the (imaginary) characters in detail.
It's been a point of great distress for me that the Daring Do books the Tropers describe don't actually exist. I've had the fantasy for some time that I could write them myself. (Or some of them, anyway- it would take a lifetime at least to write all the books, and I'm not even interested in all of them.) So this fanfiction was born from some of the characters described on the TVTropes page, and a story that came to me based on the hijinks they seemed capable of.
This story is not about Daring Do. Or Ahuizotl. Or Dr. Caballeron. Daring Do only makes a guest appearance as the star of one of the chapters. So if you came here looking for a story about Daring Do and noticed that my story had 'Daring Do' as a tag, then, well... I'm going to have to disappoint you.
Who knows, you may enjoy the story anyway. But I must warn you, I'll be making some references in the story that may be unintelligible to non-Tropers.
Anyway, I promised you would get a more thorough plot summary in the introduction, so here it is:
"When Swinn and Dell, twin con artists (who are totally unrelated to Flim and Flam) get their hooves on a potion that cures all wounds and brings back the dead, they see only the opportunity to make a bunch of cash. But such a potion cannot be released on the market without being thoroughly tested, so they decide to use Sebastius, Swinn's sociopathic ex-boyfriend, as their guinea pig. But it doesn't work quite as planned...
"Join Sebastius and his good counterpart, Bravado, as they travel through the land of Marabia, dodging guards and crazy doctors, escaping from a deadly game of pinball, and discovering family secrets. And dying. They also die a whole lot."
Oh, one last thing: the reason I use 'Marabia' instead of the canon 'Saddle Arabia' is because... it's complicated, but I'm pretending that the pony who wrote this story (Magic Step) used Marabia as a transparent replacement for the (to her) real world country Saddle Arabia to avoid offending anypony. So, yes, I'm aware of the existence of Saddle Arabia.
Note to Tropers:
I'm not sure what, exactly, possessed me to write this story. Not only is my pool of readers sorely limited (to people who read the Daring Do TV Tropes page and don't mind lousy writing or a distinct lack of Daring Do) but it doesn't even fit on the Daring Do TV Tropes page, since Sebastius Mareton doesn't exactly have his own series, nor is likely to. (It could possibly fit under a Bravado series even though Bravado sees less action than Sebastius, but there isn't a Bravado series either...) So feel free to move my story around on the Daring Do page (or, if it sticks out too much, to delete it entirely. Sniff.)
Reading the Daring Do TVTropes page had brought so much mindless joy into my life. It's like climbing into a pen filled with hundreds of plot bunnies, which gnaw on me forever. It hurts, but I like it. So I hope to be able to contribute in lots of different ways. (As you may be able to guess from the end of this story, I have a lot of other ideas for books I can write. I also would like to write some of the stories you already described, but my output is really slow and I'm likely to lose interest in the series before that happens.) This story is, I hope, the first of many.
But I am unequal to the task which is set before me, so I'd like to add a couple caveats for you to keep in mind as you read this story:
-First, I should tell you up front that I am a Christian, and I am not comfortable with writing anything that goes against my beliefs or principles. I will not (intentionally) write a story that teaches anything counter to my faith. That said, I'm not one of those nuts who believe the gospel message must be put in every story (if you can believe that...) nor do I think every story needs to be inundated with references to God, Jesus, and the Bible, so I hope that you non-Christians won't feel too preached at. I believe (let's see if I can say this without sounding too new-age-y) that God permeates all areas of life, and that all morality comes from God, and God's morals can be found everywhere. Even though I usually start my stories without planning on having any moral at all, God reveals the lesson that the story was meant to teach, and I take this moral and bring it out more. (No, God doesn't speak to me- not directly, anyway. It's just that often I have ideas, and I'm not sure where they came from, and I feel like maybe God is whispering to me. It's not actually creepy.) So, believe it or not, I wasn't actually planning on writing this story with a Christian moral- it seemed to come organically, as in, if the character really fell into the situations I imagined, this might be what they would learn...
(I don't want to get into a discussion on how Jesus can exist in the world of Equestria. I'm just not comfortable writing a story in which Christianity 'isn't true'; to me, that would be like writing a story about a world where murder is a moral thing to do. [Not just considered a moral thing to do, but is a moral thing to do. Take a moment to appreciate the difference between the words.] I also don't really want to rename God or Jesus like many other books [such as the Chronicles of Narnia] do, just as a matter of personal preference. So please let this issue drop.)
-Second, related to the above, I'm unwilling to write any story with a rating any more serious than "Rated T for violence only." That's why Storm Talon and Sebastius Mareton use (censored) instead of actual swear words.
Frankly, I think most of you are silly ponies for attempting to keep up the pretense that Daring Do is a children's book just so you can draw parallels to the brony community. No real children's book would have a character who swears as much as Storm Talon, or a character who abuses substances as much as Ghoul, or such violent deaths as Whitefrock's (for example) appear to be from your descriptions, or such cruel and twisted characters as Sweeny Trot. (Okay, a kid's book might contain a cannibal, but I doubt that said cannibals would ever actually eat anyone.) The stories I write will probably be closer to children's books than the ones you describe, as an indirect result of my Christianity. (Although I can be creatively violent in my stories, hence the 'T for violence only' bit.)
-The extent of my familiarity with the adventure archeologist genre is limited to three Indiana Jones movies and what little there was of Daring Do and the Cloudheld Eternity. That's why this story is so... non-adventure-archeologist-y. I'm also lousy at fight scenes, if you can't tell from the fact that all the battles I wrote except the last one were 1HKO's. Sorry.
-I got Sebastius Mareton all wrong. Which is probably even more egregious, since he's the main character. Everything I know about sociopathy comes from reading the TV Tropes page and my own imagination, so I probably got all the symptoms wrong. Also, somehow, when I wrote this story out I forgot to apply nearly all the tropes you listed for his character. Also, I never watched, nor do I plan to watch, A Clockwork Orange, which one of you claimed as the basis for his character. So I hope my portrayal doesn't make you writhe in agony too much.
-I hate character death. So here (and in any future stories I may write) I may be retconning several deaths. Apologies in advance if they upset you. I have a very weak mind.
Okay, sorry to bother you. Let's get to the story!
"So… cold…" Dell whispered.
"Don't try and talk," Swinn said, gently laying her sister on the bed of their mechanical wagon. Rain poured down from the sky, and thunder and lightning flashed constantly.
"It's a stupid desert," Dell whispered, tracing a circle on the metal wagon bed.. "Deserts shouldn't… be so… c-cold… or so wet…"
"You hush," Swinn said, strapping herself into the leather harness. Usually she and her sister propelled their wagon with magic, but after all the fancy spells she'd had to cast to scatter the guards, she wasn't sure she had enough power in her. "We'll find a doctor. Don't talk like that." She charged down the street.
Dell closed her eyes and rested her head on the wagonbed. "Swinn, my leg is bleeding…"
"I know. Don't worry." Swinn frantically scanned the shops on each side. She couldn't read Marabian, so she just had to judge by the pictures. The lightning revealed signs bearing a coffee cup, a pile of money, a pair of horseshoes…
"Stop where you are!" a stallion called out.
Swinn plunged into a pit of wet sand and started sinking. "Urgh…" Wincing in anticipation, she telekinetically lifted herself out. Her head was pounding. That pony had better have a good reason for stopping her. A reason that wasn't 'you're under arrest'.
"What do you think you're doing?" a tall abada stallion demanded. He was frantically brushing mud off of the white coat that he wore.
"Sorry, sir, I don't have time to exchange pleasantries," Swinn huffed.
"You have ruined my white lab coat!" the abada shouted, shoving a corner of the coat into Swinn's face. "How am I supposed to be a surgeon without a white lab coat?"
"I could care less, mister," Swinn said, staring angrily at the dirty white fabric. Then the other sentence caught up to her.
"Wait, a surgeon?" she asked. "Are you really a surgeon?"
"Obviously," the abada said, rolling his eyes. "Haven't you heard of me?"
"I really, really need to ask you to-" Swinn started.
"I already knew that," the surgeon said with another eye roll. "I heard the conflict from my shop and went to check if anypony needed help. Du-uh."
Swinn wondered if this Marabian had learned Equestrian from a television show about stereotypical teenagers. But this was no time to judge. Through her psychic link with Dell, she could tell her sister was in a lot of pain. It was beginning to affect her, too. If this kept on then both of them would become unable to function. Psychic links had their downsides.
"Well," Swinn said, "where's your clinic?"
"Follow me," the abada said, jerking his head.
"This is it?" Swinn asked in disbelief.
The surgeon's 'clinic' was a short little boxy shape squashed between two huge taverns. Boards covered the windows and doors. The paint was peeling from the window ledges and the door, and the bricks were crumbling.
"I'm only setting up shop here temporarily," the surgeon said, prying a few planks off of the door and pulling out a set of lockpicks. "Hold on just a moment."
A flash of lightning let Swinn briefly glimpse the interior of the shop. All she could make out was a wooden table and a glint of metal on the walls.
"There we go," the abada said, pushing the door open. "If you don't mind bringing your sister yourself? I would hate to get blood on my white lab coat. Sand comes out, blood doesn't, if you understand."
Groaning, Swinn telekinetically flung Dell onto her back and staggered into the 'clinic'.
"I just need a moment," the surgeon said, running into a back room. "Meanwhile strap your sister to the table and get comfortable."
Swinn lay Dell on what looked like a splintery kitchen table with metal bands attached. She decided to forgo the 'strapping' part. "Let me look for a light switch."
"I'm not so sure about this…" Dell whimpered.
"Here we go," Swinn said, turning up a kerosene lamp. Then she gasped as she saw just what had been glinting on the walls a moment ago.
The walls were lined with knives.
Big knives, little knives, knives for vegetables, knives for meat, serrated knives, unserrated knives, scapulas by the dozen interspersed among long bread knives and daggers. In addition, there were two battle axes and about thirty hypodermic needles of various sizes and lengths. All of them seemed spread randomly around the wall. It almost looked like a collection Krastos might have. Except that Krastos always kept his knives polished until they gleamed like silver. Over half of these knives had rust on them.
Nope, Swinn thought, leaning closer, some of that isn't rust. It's dried blood.
"I want another doctor!" Dell half-shrieked.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the huge stallion standing in the doorway to the back room. Swinn and Dell screamed.
"What?" the abada said, trotting into the room with a pot telekinetically hovering in the air next to him. He set the steaming pot down on the table. "Did you think I was the guards?"
"Kn-kn-knives!" Dell stammered weakly, as the abada grabbed her injured leg. "Ow!"
"Oh, yes," the abada said, smiling proudly as he took a look at the instruments of torture lining the walls. "I have a very extensive collection, as you can see. They are my pride and joy." He frowned down at Dell. "Stop quivering! I'm not going to use them on you, you imbecile. Your leg needs to be reattached, not cut off! Why would I need a knife?" He sighed heavily as if mourning the deficiency of intelligence nowadays as he telekinetically dipped a rag into the pot. He drew it out, and it was covered with what looked like green glow-in-the-dark paint. "This actually doesn't sting. Truly." He yanked Dell's leg into position, making her whimper, and rubbed the glowing salve over the cut.
"But what are the axes for?" Swinn asked, wondering if she should just grab her sister and run.
The abada looked up briefly. "Dissections." He returned his attention to Dell's wound.
Swinn thought back to the time she had dissected a frog in high school. She was pretty sure no battle axes had been involved.
"A little more, and… good." The surgeon tossed the rag into a sack hanging from the wall. "You are free to go."
"Wh-what about a bandage?" Dell asked, staying where she was.
"A bandage?" The surgeon blinked dramatically. "Whatever for? Or do you just wear bandages for fashion statements?"
Dell stared at the surgeon in disbelief.
Swinn trotted over to the operating table. "Oh, my gosh. Dell- the wound is healed."
"What?" Dell said, sitting up and examining her leg. No trace of the spear wound remained. "Already?"
"Well, duh," the abada said. "I can't believe you haven't heard of me. This," he said, holding up the pot and shaking it a bit, "is my miracle brew. A very special formula that only I know about, and only I can make." He set the pot down and magically opened a drawer under the table and levitated several small vials into the air. "Just add water to these vials, boil for a few minutes, and voila- the ultimate innovation in the field of medicine."
"Wow!" Dell said, her eyes gleaming.
Swinn crossed her forehooves. "Yeah, right. If this medicine really is so spectacular, why do you live in this abandoned shop? Why aren't you world-famous?"
The surgeon sighed dramatically, and the vials dropped to the table. "The government of Marabia is… opposed to my research. I'm hunted like a… like a duck. There's nowhere I can go."
Swinn's eyes lit up. So did Dell's. The two twins looked at each other, knowing their minds were on the same tracks. Psychic links had their upsides.
"Well, the Equestrian government is very open to new medicine," Swinn said, trotting up to the abada surgeon and rubbing her hoof under his chin. "That's the country we come from."
"Really?" The abada's eyes lit up. "Oh, that sounds… wonderful! It's my dream to go there!"
"Why can't you?"
The abada sighed, but this was a softer sigh than before. "I'd… never make it past the border. My skill is in medicine, not in smuggling."
"We-ell," Dell cooed, "we just happen to be expert smugglers."
"And," Swinn added, "we're heading back to Equestria in just a few days!"
The abada's eyes brightened. "Really?"
"Really truly," Swinn said. "If you want, we could take some of your medicine up there for you."
The abada blinked stupidly. "But what about me? Couldn't you take me?"
Swinn and Dell looked at each other.
"Well, we don't really smuggle ponies…" Dell started.
"But believe me," Swinn said, "once Equestria gets a glimpse of this amazing medicine, I'm sure they'll bargain with the Marabian government to let you immigrate to our country. They won't let this rest. It will be far too good an opportunity to miss!"
"You know it!" Dell said, smiling brightly.
The abada was grinning from ear to ear. "That… would be incredible. I can't believe you would be nice enough to do this for me!"
"Oh, it's nothing, really," Swinn said with a wink at Dell. Dell giggled.
"But wait," the abada said, dashing from the room. "I haven't shown you the best part! Hold on a second!"
Swinn and Dell exchanged sly glances as they made themselves comfortable on a wooden bench.
"Are we seriously doing this?" Dell whispered.
"This is going to be pure. Profit," Swinn whispered back.
The two sisters giggled at their good fortune.
"Here we are!" the abada shouted, wheeling a stretcher into the room. Strapped to the stretched was a brown pegasus, his legs and wings fastened to the stretcher in a splayed out position and his head locked between two boards. The surgeon propped the stretcher against the wood table so that Swinn and Dell could see the pony on it clearly.
The pegasus blinked at the bright light and gasped when he noticed the two girls. "Who are you?" he said, his voice shaking a bit.
"Enough talk," the abada said, hefting the battle axe off of the wall into his hooves.
"What's he doing?" the brown pegasus asked, trying to turn his head, but the boards held it firmly in place.
The abada swung the axe over his shoulder and walked closer to the stretcher.
"Wait," Dell said, "you aren't going-"
The axe thudded into the wood of the stretcher, severing the pegasus' head. Blood oozed out of the wound and spattered Swinn and Dell, who both screamed.
The pegasus' mouth was frozen in a silent scream of terror.
The surgeon removed his battle axe and struck six more times, severing all the pegasus' limbs from his body. All remained in place because of the straps, but the surgeon moved them around a bit to demonstrate that they were fully separated.
Swinn and Dell just gaped at him. They were frozen in place with horror.
The abada carefully set the battle axe back on the wall, not bothering to wipe the blood off. Then he pulled a rag from his pocket with a flourish. "Observe!" He dipped it in his special medicine. Then, with great care, he spread the lotion generously over each of the cuts, starting with the wings and then the legs. Each healed without a trace.
"And for my grand finale…" he said, rubbing the rag over the cut in the pegasus' neck.
The wound healed, as though the pegasus' head had never been cut off.
The pegasus blinked, and his voice came back with a soft gasp. "Wh-what?"
"How are we feeling, then?" the abada asked, tapping his front hoof on the edge of the stretcher.
The pegasus just opened and shut his mouth a bit. "You- you…"
"Are you in any pain?" the abada asked.
"Well… no," the pegasus squeaked.
"Well, ladies?" the abada said, gesturing to the stretcher dramatically. "Alive and well. So now you can see just how potent my medicine truly is." He then kicked the stretcher so that it rolled out of the room, and he shut the door so that the Swinndell sisters could no longer see the pegasus.
Dell just kept gaping, but Swinn began to clap a bit.
"Does- does that work for any kind of death?" she asked.
The abada hesitated. "Yes- yes, as long as my medicine is applied within an hour of the execution. And as long as the pony died from wounds and not from, say, illness or poison or burns. I haven't really been able to do anything with those, yet…"
"Keen!" Swinn said. "So, let's talk profit. We bring your medicine across the border, sing its praises, give a few demonstrations, and then we bring you to Equestria and start our own business."
"Just one thing," the abada said. "Promise me that you won't sell this formula to any business ponies or doctors. Just use a few samples on patients."
"Understood," Dell said, knowing full well that if they kept that promise, it would only be because, incidentally, they could make the most money that way. "We promise that you will love the results."
"Indeed," the abada said, pressing a sack full of vials into Swinn's hooves. "This is easily the best thing that has ever happened to me. Thank you so very much."
"We live to serve," Swinn said, bowing.
"Oh, yes indeed," Dell said, bowing also. "You won't regret this."
They backed out of the doorway and loaded up the wagon.
"Well," Dell said as they enchanted the wagon and started off down the street, "that was a lot of excitement for one day. So what do you say we head back to the inn?"
"Hmm," Swinn said. "I don't really want to sleep just yet. First I want to know if this medicine is legit."
"What?" Dell said. "But you saw what he did back there. How can you doubt it's real? We saw that pony's head get cut off!"
"Yes," Swinn said, "but I'm not convinced that was a real pony. For all we know, that surgeon is also an accomplished illusionist. In fact, I'd bet you a silver bit that his test subject was just an illusion. Did you see that pegasus' wings? Far too tiny for its body. And his mane was blue. Blue with a brown body. That's just a genetic impossibility."
"Really?" Dell said.
"Well, that shade of brown anyway," Swinn said. "Trust me on this. We need to find another test subject. Somepony who, if he accidentally dies, the world will be better off without."
"Do you have somepony in mind?" Dell said, peering curiously at her sister.
"Hmm, well, actually, now that you mention it…"
"Noteworthy Smith?"
Swinn gave Dell an odd look. "I was thinking of somepony we could actually get our hooves on."
"Oh," Dell said. "Um…"
"Tell you what," Swinn said, pulling up to a tavern. "How about you head back to the inn and start cooking up a batch of medicine. Meanwhile, I'll be reconnecting." She smiled at Dell and strutted off into the tavern.