>>225140>Swiveling immediately sharp eyes onto you, the old stallion cracks a partially dejected smile.
"Let it be said a Zebra of soured countenance or cruel thought can lie wrongfully, just as the empty cookie jar is passed over by the guilt-laden filly.">Turning his head towards another distant rumble accompanied by a rolling cackle, the shaman's free hoof lifts to prod the center of his nose several times.
"In Southwest Equestria above the Moors where less than a quarter of humans currently live it is fall, yet here where the Filly of Rains brings tidings of water across Zebraica it is spring and subject to her showerly call.">Hearing soft scraping noises behind you, a wicker made chair of roughly human-comfortable dimensions is pushed next to you.>Noting a small filly Zebra without ornamarents briskly trotting out of sight around the hut's open western entrance, the Zebra carefully withdraws the two tapes to gaze at with a distant expression.
"Great expanses of ill words we have heard on the winds which speak often wrong of Razorback's misbegotten trends. To speak bluntly in this time: it is not Her emergence that your species should be worried of, it is her creation as an equine-goddess of humans that causes fear to those whom see Her above. Little else with you shall I share for I know nothing honest of Her care.">Dragging deep off the multitude of familiar berry tastes mixed with blatantly wild mareijuana, the texture was cool, even, and non-threatening.>Moreover, there was no urge to choke on the puff nor was there any irritation.>As Tipper would state, this deserved the 'get me a full bale and I'll share it with you' award.
>Finished examining the tapes while you contemplated the nature of Zebraica's nature, the shaman holds them, stacked no less, out to you in exchange for the bottle.>Hefting it up for a momaretary examination, the stallion's lips curl back in a laconic smile.
"No concerns of decorum need be made here for we return equal given as greater cheer. Gresta of the Stone Skies Alone I am called to be be, this tribe's shaman with an unstable predictive tendency. My meaning shall show itself to you, that is, if you dare gaze upon the truth?">Taking an honorific swig of the soda before passing it back to you, Gresta leans forwards, pressing his forehooves together with a unsubtle expression that you took to be a focused glare.>Lips silently moving for roughly ten seconds, his hooves spread apart slowly when, abruptly, forty small round images spread across his coat in serpentine motions.>Having seen the bullshit that some ponies called 'magic', among other words that made little sense, could pull, this of course didn't faze you in the slightest.>While not related to anypony or anyone you personally knew, the scenes weren't what you expected as they scrawled upon the shaman's head into moving images:>A threadbare, colorless alicorn writhing in visible death throes impaled by a glowing rainbow spear held by a barely recognizable armored human, the plating destroyed beyond recognition with only the tassels and colors letting you identify him as Lont.
"To this one I see Her anger unleashed upon hearing the most uncouth of lies, the failure of a human brought here whom desired more than could hold their eyes-">Three black armored earth ponies stood before a giant red mare, one you estimated to be at least three stories tall judging by the trio's probably normal heights.>The upper half of the mare's body leaned down over a seqoyya tree stump, looking both bored and irritated as one hoof propped her chin, but her face carried a derisive smirk along with bitterly narrowed, neon green eyes.
"Returning the Wild Ones could be one of Her potential desires should Razorback quail, or should they lose the great battle before they turn tail-">An intensely sour image of several Operators in an unfamiliar pattern of green, red, and blue camouflage stood in somewhat orderly ranks before a vast graveyard is next.>In the background, remnants of a large stone building could be seen, along with small fires, smoke trails, and what looked like the crushed, colorless bodies of armored ponies.
"One that should not come to pass if Her worried question is solved by earnest puzzle… but an end to the flames of constant war if Razorback should bargain Her rebuttal? This one I cannot claim to learn or know, the strains burn into my skull such painful flow-">An unusually slender, tall earth pony with a bubblegum pink coat and dull red mane bows before a creature that you could only describe as a bipedal insectoid-octopus hybrid merged with a hornet and a bladed mechanical plant.>Unlike the previous image, the background was taken up by host of corpses: nearly every human of Razorback that you'd seen in passing.
"I know naught but little of the Planar creatures and monsters called upon by those named the Constructed Twos yet I sense their fury evolving in such means as to make their allies toughened against abuse-"
>The shaman's hooves clop together with a resounding ping of steel-on-steel, ending the random sequence of images jerking across his coat.
"How this goddess-kin of equine-make in recognition of your race ties in such events I am unsure, but my fears are of such great importance..">Head lifting for several moments to stoically regrad the wall behind you, Gresta raises both hooves to rub the sides of his head with a pained exhale.
"I am sorry of what has been shown if none of what you have seen can make sense, it is a burden the many futures of your Otherworld species are so dense. What little I know now is choose carefully what She is to hear I suggest, else the great concentrations of silverine be unfortunately the humans' bet the best."