//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1: Banishment 
// Story: Fallout Equestria: Distant Lands 
// by Crawver 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 1: Banishment


The cutie mark

Firstly, for those of you who may not be a pony, I feel I should explain what a cutie mark is. It is a small picture that appears on the flank of any and every pony that finds what makes them…well, them. It shows exactly what makes the pony so unique, shows their own talent. Many ponies use it as a sign of age. After all, every pony will get their cutie mark should they wait, and search what they look for. Most find it as a young child, and learn to embrace it.

That said, it then may seem unusual to anyone reading this, but I never expected to get a cutie mark. No-one in my tribe did. But because I was unfortunate to have that strange picture appear on the side of my flank, it set in motion a chain of events I will both always lament, but also be eternally grateful. My mark was nothing interesting. During my travels I’ve seen hundreds, if not thousands of ponies with ones that are far more interesting, but I doubt none that have had such a profound effect on their lives. Allow me to explain.

My name is Deadset. I never understood why my mother called me that, she said it was to show how I was set dead on the straight path or something like that, but I never understood half the things she did anyway. I was born into a tribe called “clarity”. We were a peaceful enough tribe, never seeking out violence, keeping mostly to ourselves, only trading with passing by caravans. We were completely unremarkable apart for one single thing.

Not one of us had a cutie mark.

Whenever I tell anyone I meet on my travels about that, that my entire tribe was ‘blank-flank’, that none of us had found our ‘special talent’, they scoff and call me a liar, but it’s true. Whenever one within our tribe got a marking representing who we were, something terrible would befall us unless the cursed one was cast out. This is what our elders taught us, and it’s what we all believed to our core. I could not stress enough how much our tribe feared those marks on the flanks of ponies, but I appear to be rambling, so I should begin where my life truly began. Not the day I was born, but the day I received my number.


***            ***     ***


CRACK!

My ears rang a little as I lifted my head to view my target, a radhog in the pen. Damn, I missed. I felt useless whenever I fired a gun; I never seemed to be able to aim straight.

“You nearly had it that time Deadset!” cried the lilac unicorn with a black mane from the other side of the pen.

“Mmpphhf mfff umph” I tried to yell back, but the revolver in my mouth made it a little difficult. I spat it out, leering at the firearm as it lay in the dirt. I hated it with a passion right now.

“You really should try and use your magic for it you know.” I jumped slightly; the unicorn had silently walked up to me while I was glaring at the gun. I frowned at her.

“Footlock, you’re not the one who ended up shooting yourself in the hoof by trying it.” I glanced down at my left foreleg, seeing the large crack that was made in the hoof by an accidental shot from when I first fired a gun. I could remember how badly I was mocked for my inability with any magic.

‘Deadhead the uselesscorn’ I was nicknamed. To be honest though I did always feel more comfortable pretending I was an earth pony anyway.

“I feel safer using my mouth. If the earth ponies can do it, surely I should be able to.” Footlock giggled slightly.

“Well, at the very least don’t shut your eyes when you pull the trigger. That must make it a bit harder. Now hurry up and kill Oinkers over there. You know father wants the oracle to assign you a destiny today.”

I sighed. Today was a day I’ve been dreading for months. It was my 8th birthday today, and Elder Hoofcrash was going to let the oracle decide what I would be doing for the tribe until I died. All I had to do was get my first kill, and then I was deemed ‘worthy’ for the honour.

I gave Footlock a weak smile, then bent down and picked up the gun between my teeth. Tasted of worry. That, and dirt. I shifted it in my jaw, getting the barrel to point forward and my tongue pressing against the trigger. I pointed the gun at the radhog, who stopped taking notice after the first few misses, and then fired.

It wasn’t a kill-shot unfortunately. The radhog was lying in the mud, blood flowing from a wound in the side of its stomach. It was letting out an almighty racket. I winced at the elders’ daughter.

“Well, at least I hit it. Only took 5 tries.” The unicorn, who was only a few of months older than me, just shook her head. I had no idea how, but she never seemed to miss. It only made it worse that she didn’t understand how I never seemed to hit.

“Better finish it off before it gives everypony in the tribe a headache. I’ll tell father that you got your first kill.”

With that, she turned off and trotted towards the tents. I sighed, jumping over the fence of the pen and grasped the knife on my belt between my teeth. As I neared the squealing hog, I couldn’t help but think of how unfair life was. I’d have to slit the damn things throat to claim my kill and get blood all over my coat.

The traditions of this tribe made no sense to me, but I was forbidden to kill a wounded creature with anything but a knife. I cursed my luck for not having struck it in the head with my bullet, before plunging the blade of the knife into the hogs neck and twisting it. With one final squeal, it finally lay limp.


***            ***     ***


When I trotted back towards the tribe, Elder Hoofcrash was standing outside his tent, talking with Footlock.

The black stallion was huge. He towered over anyone else in the tribe by a significant margin, and uses it to full advantage to maintain order. His dark hued mane flowed down his sides. He mustn’t have cut it for years. Everypony was scared to even look him in the eye.

Well, all except his daughter. When he noticed me he stopped and turned towards me and smiled with glee. It didn’t suit him, given that his face was covered in scars. His gruff voice rang out;

“Deadset, today you become a man and take your place within the tribe. You must travel into the cave of our ancestors and consort with the oracle, for it is the oracle that shall decide your fate.” He looked up and down my body.

“You are ready?” I tried to reply, but my voice came out as a whimper, so instead nodded. Even when he was being friendly, Hoofcrash was unnerving. Then without saying another word, he simply pointed at the mountain the village was built besides. I bowed respectfully and departed from him.


***            ***     ***


I slowly ventured through the cave, the light of day barely illuminating my path this deep. Nopony ever saw the oracle after being allocated their task, so nopony ever spoke of it. I’m not sure why, but I always imagined it would be a mare, far older and far wiser than anyone else in the tribe. I started to hum to myself, the sounds reflecting off the walls of the cave.

I suddenly noticed that the light within the cave was starting to turn to a sickly green hue. As I ventured deeper, the green grew darker and more intense, until I reached the end where only a strange metal…thing stood before me. I cocked my head, blinking. Where was the oracle? I was definitely in the right cave.

‘Of course you are, Deadhead. There isn’t any other cave on ancestors nearby, are there?’ a voice in my head spoke. This wasn’t unusual for me. I always berated myself when I thought or said something stupid. I called out.

“Oracle? Where are you?” Silence, apart from the echo and the quiet hum of the machine in front of me. It was the source of the green light, and illuminated the cave around me. I decided to examine further, looking at the strange source of light.

I had never seen anything like it before, but not only did it give off light, but where the light came from were words. I slowly read them aloud.

“Gender: Mare or Stallion?” Why was it asking me this? I looked at myself to make sure I didn’t look like a mare. Nope, still looked like me, even with the blood dried on my coat, masculinity and all. I thought maybe I was meant to talk to it…whatever it was.

“Erm, I’m a stallion if you couldn’t tell”. No reply. I then noticed the pad which had letters on it. Suddenly my brain clicked as I worked out that I was meant to write to it. It mustn’t been able to see or hear. I began to type in ‘Stallion’.

“S…T…A…L…L…oh” I looked up to see it had already moved onto the next question, and apparently my answer so far was ‘tall’. That was definitely not my age. I stared at the pad of letters, noticing there were numbers on it as well. I typed in ‘8’, but I guessed because I had leftovers from my last question in front of it, it couldn’t read my answer.

I pressed the button marked “delete”, hoping it would remove my mistake. I was happy to find it did. Soon I had given it my correct age. The machine started to make a whirring sound, before finally displaying ‘37’. I assumed this was what my destiny was. I wasn’t sure how a number could be my destiny, but at least I wasn’t a radhog farmer.

When I told the Elder that I was to be ‘37’, he simply waved a hoof at me dismissively before levitating an ancient board with paper on it, the aura of magic’s colour matching the dark shades of his coat. He stared at the paper for about a minute before his lips curled into another smile that still jarred with his scarred face. “37, perfect. You’re going to be maintenance, Deadset. You start tomorrow.”


***            ***     ***


I slumped out of bed. Great, another day being the damned repairpony of the tribe. I’d been given this duty a little over 8 years ago now, and it still felt as damning to know this’ll be all I ever do as much as when I had first found out.

I turned to stare into my mirror. My light cream coat always seemed to be so much better kept when I woke up than my Auburn mane, which currently looked more like a warzone than hair attached to a pony. I stared into my own hazel brown eyes and groaned.

“One less day ‘till death”. I went about my morning ritual of gathering my equipment, and tucking into some radhog meat. I couldn’t remember the first time I had radhog meat, but ever since then it’s been all I ever seemed to eat. Not surprising since it’s all anypony seemed to eat here.

I can remember once when a trader stopped by, and in return for me fixing up his rifle, gave me a box of something called ‘carrot flavoured snack cakes’. I’ve never seen any box like that since, and how I wish I could. They tasted divine in comparison to the chewy, bland taste of radhog.
I finished chewing the lump of meat before finally leaving my tent and trotted off towards my workstation for another boring day of fixing the tribe’s guns.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love fixing things, I always got such a massive pleasure from turning a pile of scrap into a usable gun, but that’s all I ever did, repair guns and barding, or if I got lucky, Boulders would need her chainsaw fixed, which would give me a little more of a challenge, but it was still pretty easy for me now.

I guess I was fortunate when the oracle made me 37. Some ponies got destinies which really didn’t suit them. None more so than poor Balker, our resident junior radhog farmer. He was only given the job 2 years ago, and has already been gored pretty badly by his charge more times than I can remember.

Our tribe is around 200 ponies strong, including the 25ish fillies and colts that are too young to have destinies, and we each had our role to play.

I was just unusual in that I was the only pony in the tribe who was given 37. The last pony who was given that destiny died a few years before I was born. Took me months to repair all the work I was given in my first week.

Things were much quieter now, so I decided that I might as well get a little more sleep in. Anypony that wanted my help could wake me up. I curled up, resting my head on my cracked hoof before dosing off to sleep.


***            ***     ***


I was woken up by an angel. Sure, she had a horn instead of wings, but she was an angel to me, even when she hit me in the side of my head.

“Huh, wha…?”

“Get up Deadset, you should be working.” I looked up at the lilac unicorn, and suddenly scrambled to my hoofs, trying to regain my composure.

“Hi Footlock” I blushed slightly; I hoped she assumed it was because she caught me asleep, and not because she happened to have been in my dreams doing…things.

“How can I help you?” I looked into those eyes. Those beautiful green eyes, and didn’t hear her as I began to lose myself in them. She then looked away for a second, bringing me back into the real world.

“…So I just stopped by to see how you were getting on, more ponies are coming to me recently to get patched up after raider attacks. I’m starting to get worried.” She looked at the ground, her expression grim. I nudged her slightly with my hoof.

“Well, it’s just as well they go to you. I don’t know anypony I’d rather have patching me up.” She didn’t brighten up. Stupid. I knew I should have said something else. She then looked at the cracks in my hoof.

“I wasn’t able to help fix that. My magic was too weak when it happened, and now it’s permanent.” I frowned. It was my stupid fault that it happened. I tried to fire my gun with magic, she was not blaming herself for that.

“Don’t worry about it; we were foals when it happened. You’d barely been given your destiny as a medicalpony, and if I remember, you did repair my hoof enough that I got to keep it, instead of having it amputated.” A slight smile. I was happy. She turned and was about to walk off when she spoke again.

“You may get some unusual business today. I saw a new caravan entering the village earlier. They may want you to do some repairs.”

I perked up a bit. Caravans always had more interesting weapons to repair, and I was still hoping that one day I would receive another box of carrot cakes, instead of stupid caps.

I shook myself slightly, noticing that I was drooling a little at the thought of tasting them again. Of course caps were more useful than those cakes. They didn’t even last me more than a meal. But still…

It was about an hour later when the caravan finally made it to me. There was a red earth pony wearing worn looking leather armour leading the group, but she was flanked by two hovering griffons wearing black armour and carrying menacing looking weapons of a design I’ve never seen before. This must be a successful caravan.

I’d only ever seen a griffon once before, and that was with the carrot cake caravan, so I raised my hopes a little more. The red pony stepped forward, a smile beaming on her face, hoof raised. I met her hoof and we did a firm shake. She then spoke, her voice light and bouncy, I liked her already.

“Hello there, my good Claritian, I am wondering if I can tempt you with any of my fine wares in exchange for your services. I hear you’re the mechanic of this tribe?”

I’d never heard that word before. Mechanic. If it meant gun-repairpony, then I much preferred it. I shrugged, choosing to play it cool.

“Maybe. What do you need me for?” She continued to smile at me, glancing at her bodyguards.

“Well, me and my companions here are in need of a few repairs, and I’ve been told none can do better than you in that department, so what do you say, friend? Care to help us out? I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.” Damnit, her smile was contagious.

“Sure, just show me what you need repaired, and we’ll work out a price.”


***            ***     ***


Oh, it was my lucky day today. The trader had left me with some wonderful pieces of kit for me to work my magic on.

First was her leather armour. Pretty pedestrian, but I had to say she looked pretty cute out of it. One of her bodyguards had left her rifle, and although I hadn’t noticed when we were negotiating, the caravans Brahmin had a minigun strapped to the side of it which needed some repairs.
Normally I would have charged around 1000 caps for a job like this, but since I liked her, her offering to pay upfront, and not only having 1, but 3 boxes of carrot cakes, she haggled me down to around 600 caps. I didn’t mind as I got to work, chewing on a cake.

I had told her that this would probably take me a day to fix. I was fairly certain I could do it in a few hours, but I knew other members of the tribe could use some extra trade, even if Hoofcrash didn’t like having outsiders around, and having them stick around for the day would mean they should spend some more.

The leather armour was the first I worked on. It was a simple job, patching up the holes with fresh patches of leather, and I even did her the favour of lining the chest of it with thin plates of metal. I hoped she appreciated the effort. Her armour did have quite a few holes in it, and I didn’t want her to be shot up too much.

Next I brought up the griffons rifle. Examining it carefully, I began to dismantle it piece by piece, taking mental notes of where each individual component was. It used an unusual type of bullet, and was magazine loaded, something uncommon for my tribe. I slipped one of the bullets under my workbench, wanting to examine it more later. Surely the griffon wouldn’t notice one missing bullet, right? After cleaning out the barrel, replacing the trigger with a better one, and replacing the stock, I put it down and moved onto the one I hungered for.

I stared at the minigun, mouth almost watering. It was beautiful for me to look at, so many different mechanisms and components… I was in heaven. I tried to lift it up with my hooves, but nearly fell over due to its weight. Damn. I really didn’t want to do this. I wrapped it in a telekinetic field of magic, slowly lifting it up. I hated using magic, was never reliable with me. I strained under its’ weight, sweating a little. I tried to lower it onto the workbench gently, but instead it came down with a very loud ‘THUD’. I winced slightly, wanting to be more careful. A gun like this deserved love and attention.  I took a bite out of one of my snack cakes, and started humming as I worked, regularly removing old and rusted components, throwing them onto my scrap-pile, and fishing out something far more worthy to be a part of the magnificent machine.

I thought it would have taken me only a couple of hours to finish my repairs, but it was starting to get dark when the red pony and her entourage returned. She watched me for a few seconds, fully engrossed in the finishing touches and polishing it before finally speaking up.

“Looks like you did a brilliant job, friend.” I jumped, letting out a small cry of shock, before turning to see her. She was smiling again.

“Well, you paid good caps, and I strive to please my customers.” She started to make small talk as I began to bring over their equipment.

“If you work that hard on others weapons, I shudder to imagine how much effort you poured into your own.” I couldn’t help but blush.

“Would you want to see it?” She nodded as she started to put on her armour, while the griffons were inspecting the weapons I’d handed them for themselves.

I pulled out my revolver from my belt with my teeth, placing it on the counter for her to see. It was the same revolver I had the day I received my number, but it looked completely different. Thinking about it, I don’t think I could even say it is the same revolver anymore; I’d replaced every part over and over, improving each time I found a better part for it. The oft-polished metal gleamed, even in the low level lighting. I both loved and hated this gun. Loved it because it was something I could call mine, and I valued it with my life. I hated it because it never shot what I pointed it at. The trader whistled.

“Now THAT is a pistol.” She cooed. I picked it up in my teeth again and placed it back in its holster. She spoke again.

“The name’s Redlight Sunshine, but you can call me Redsun for short.” I smiled, giving a slight nod.

“Deadset”.

The griffon whose rifle I was working on ejected her magazine clip, and noticed she was one bullet short. In a motion faster than I would have thought faster than possible, I found myself staring down the business end of it. She spoke in a low, threatening voice.

“Where the fuck is my bullet, tribal? Say one wrong word and I will blow your brains out.” I started to stammer, looking at Redsun for help. Thankfully she obliged.

“Wingclaw! Lower your gun immediately!” The griffons didn’t even look at her, her glare still fixed entirely on me, but she did lower her rifle at least.

“I’m still waiting for my fucking bullet.” She hissed. I took a couple of steps back, stammering.

“Er…I just…er wanted to keep one as a memento…I’ve never seen one like it before.” The mercs expression didn’t change, but the traderpony spoke up.

“Alice Wingclaw, you are under contract with me, and you will stand down! That bullet will be given to Deadset as a tip for a job well done.” With a moody snort, the griffon turned and hovered towards the Brahmin.

“As you wish.” Redsun turned to me again.

“Sorry about that. Griffons can be a little…possessive at times. Anyway, thank you for your help.”

“No problem” I replied. She turned and started to walk off as well.

“We had better be going now, but also congratulations.”

“On what?” I asked.

“On getting your cutie mark.”

I nearly broke my spine with the speed I wheeled around to look at my flank, and there, printed on the side, was an image of a spanner over a cog.

Fuck…


***            ***     ***


I was pacing in front of my workbench. This was bad. This was very, very bad. I was cursed. I would be forced out of the tribe, or executed if I refused. The last time a pony got their cutie mark was Quickstep. I was still a colt back then, but I could remember quite clearly the body parts of those caught in the explosions. It was the day I lost my father. I felt sick.

I had to leave now, fast, before anything should happen to my tribe. It was early evening, night would be here soon. I could use the darkness to hopefully get away without too many others noticing. I checked to make sure I had my revolver in the holster, scrapped up the caps and bullets on my workbench, dumping them in a pocket on my belt, and rushed back to my tent.
A few ponies saw me, and the whispers were spreading around the tribe like wildfire. I hoped no-pony would try and follow me to check that it was true. It was better if I didn’t have to face anyone, that I could leave in peace. Ah, there are my saddlebags. Ok, just need to find my water and spare ammo and then I’ll be-- Suddenly the entrance flap to my tent opened, and there stood the one pony I had dreaded more than any to see. There before me was Footlock. The look on her face broke my heart.

“Deadset…how could you…ponies were saying that you…were…but I didn’t want to believe it…”
Tears were welling up in my childhood friends’ eyes. My stomach tied up in a knot. I desperately wanted to explain, that it wasn’t my fault, that I didn’t do this on purpose, but all I could do was choke and splutter. I felt pathetic, all I could do was watch her whimper before me, and I couldn’t say a word. I moved forward and embraced her, and was relieved when she didn’t move away or flinch. We knew I would be gone soon. We wouldn’t get another moment like this ever. I moved my muzzle close to her ear. I had to tell her, I had to tell her how I felt.

“Footlock…I…” CRACK! The first shot rang out through the village.

Oh no oh no oh no oh no. Nononononono, this can’t have been happening. Not now, I was going to leave. I would have been gone had Footlock not found me. How could it have begun so soon? She pushed me off her, a stern look on her face.

“Tell me later, sounds like I’ll be needed.” She turned and left the tent, leaving me alone. I knew I wouldn’t get that later. I let my head sink close to the floor.

“I love you…”


***            ***     ***


Once I’d pulled myself together, I rushed out of the tent, revolver in holster, caps and bullets in pocket, and a couple of canteens of water around my neck. I was ready to leave my home forever. A tear rolled down my cheek when I thought of that. Gunshots were now rattling in the air at a steady pace now, explosions too. I’d caused this. Me. I had no idea what it was that I caused, but I knew ponies, my friends, were going to die because of it.

Well, if this is because of me, I’ll help in some way. I withdrew my revolver with my mouth and charged towards where the sound of battle was coming from. With any luck it was just a herd of razorboar. We could deal with that with minimal deaths, and then I’d leave the moment the threat was gone. I skidded to a halt as something leapt out of a tent, and I knew luck wasn’t on my side.

The unicorn before me was a vomit coloured pony that was stained dark red with blood, her mane so torn out that not enough remained for me to tell what colour it used to be. Her barding was a mess of leather and metal, with sharp spikes protruding from every point possible. She was a raider, and raiders were bad news.

She just looked at me, her head shaking violently, a low, manic giggle escaping her muzzle. I pointed my revolver at her head, tongue pressing on the trigger. Her pinprick eyes kept darting between looking into my eyes, and looking at the gun between my teeth. Her laughter grew, but she wasn’t attacking. Maybe I didn’t need to shoot. I’d never shot a pony before. I’m not sure I could if I wanted.

It was then that I noticed what tent she came out of, and what she had stuck between her teeth. Blood was dripping from her maw, and teal coloured fur was mixed in with it. I flinched, taking a step back. She had eaten Dynamos’ colt. He was barely a year old, and this monster had gone into his tent and eaten him. Rage began to burn within me, fuelled by my sorrow that I caused this.

I threw myself at the beast, wanted to tear it limb from limb. I think it had a similar idea, given that it waited for me to lunge forward before ducking under me and biting into my foreleg. I screamed in pain as she sunk her teeth into me. I could feel blood oozing out between the raiders teeth, and sliding down the side of my leg. I hit her in the side of her head with my other foreleg, thankful it wasn’t the one with the cracked hoof, and she loosened her grip enough for me to pull my leg free. I would have continued to strike at her, but I felt uneven on my bleeding leg. She used this to charge into me, knocking me back and we fell through the canvas of Dynamos’ tent.

I landed hard on my back, with the raider only a few feet away from me. She started to snap at me again, which I returned with a hard kick to the face. As much as I might have needed it, I was not a natural fighter, and I was not a strong pony. The raider however, was, and was soon pinning me down, the blood from her mouth dripping onto my face. I was gagging, trying hard not to vomit at the smell. I knew this was the end for me, and it was what I deserved, since this was my fault. Her giggle that never seemed to end turned into raucous laughter.

“Somepony’s about to get eat! Somepony’s gonna be a tasty snack!”

In a last, desperate attempt, I swung my head forward, smashing it into hers, my horn grazing just above where eye was. It wasn’t enough. She returned it with her own, much stronger head-butt. Her own horn crashing into mine, causing my brain to feel like it was set on fire. I screamed out in agony, just begging now for the pain to end. I could hear a strange mechanical chugging noise getting closer to where we were. The raider just lowered herself closer to me and cackled,

“Grazing time!”


***            ***     ***


Death was quick and, I would imagine, very painful. It wasn’t my death though. The chugging noise was replaced by a sharp, powerful whine and grinding noise as the blade of a chainsaw cut through the barding and bone of the raider with ease; blood and gore being splattered over me.

When the grinding, whining noise was replaced with the much softer chugging again, the monster on top of me fell apart to reveal the powerful frame of Boulders standing before me, her chainsaw levitating in a white field of magic.

I imagined I looked bad, but with her white coat splattered with now drying blood and gore, she didn’t look far off a raider herself. I could see that her powerful combat barding had taken quiet a beating. When she realised which pony she saved, she glared down at me. I tried to put up a weak smile, but her ire shattered it quickly.

“You!” she pointed her chainsaw at me. I tried to back away, but my wounded leg made that quite painful.

“You caused this! Our tribe is burning because of you!” The chainsaw was getting closer and closer now. I was almost starting to wish it was the raider threatening me now.

“How could you betray your tribe like this!?” She yelled. I stammered. I knew if I said the wrong thing, I’d end up in at least 2 separate pieces. Probably more.

“I didn’t do this! I didn’t mean anything. I never wanted this to happen, and I wanted to leave before it could.” The chainsaw didn’t move as she thought about what I said. I could see the hatred in her eyes. Finally she let up, levitating the chainsaw away from me.

“Fine, we’ll let Elder Hoofcrash decided your fate. I hope he’s run out of mercy.” Although what she said stung, I found it preferable to having an impromptu surgery without anaesthesia. I couldn’t help but find it ironic that if it wasn’t for me, that chainsaw would probably be so rusted that it wouldn’t even work, and yet it was inches away from slicing me open.

I slowly stood up, wobbling slightly. I balanced more on my three good legs, taking the weight off the fourth. Boulders just glared at me.

“I’m going to find more ponies to save. If you dare leave this tent, you’ll wish it was the raider that killed you!” With that she turned and galloped off out of the tent, her chainsaw’s chugging growing quieter and quieter, until it couldn’t be heard over the constant sound of gunshots.
I looked around the tent and I then saw the mutilated body of a young teal colt. Limbs had been bitten clean off, and large chunks of flesh where missing, ending in bite marks. This time I did vomit. The stench was overpowering. I didn’t care about Boulders threat; I had to get out of here.

I stumbled out of the tent, desperately hoping there wasn’t another raider just waiting to pounce on me. I started to inhale heavily, attempting to get the smell out of my nostrils, to little avail. I then realised I had dropped my gun during the fight. I started to search frantically for it. It was then that my ears picked up the familiar cracking sound of a .357 revolver firing. Sounded like it was in good condition too.

I limped as fast as I could towards the source of the sound, to find Footlock reloading into my revolver. I was overjoyed to see her still alive, and she seemed unharmed. I limped towards her. Her ears picked up and she spun on the spot, gun pointed expertly at my head. When she realised it was me, her magic field around it collapsed, and she dropped to the ground. She started weeping.

“Why are these raiders so monstrous? I try to find survivors, but they only leave mutilated corpses.” I bent over to pick up the gun in my mouth. The taste of dirt and vomit did not mix well, and I gagged slightly. I sat down next to her and tried to speak, but all that came out was muffled nonsense. Revolver in mouth. Not best for speaking with. I holstered it and then turned to her.

“Now isn’t the time, we have to move.” She didn’t budge. Damn it, why wasn’t I better with words?

“Footlock, dying here will not help those who were defiled. We can try to repair their memory after the battle, but for now we have to stay alive.” She blinked, wiping her eyes. That got through to her.

“Ok, if we can get to my father, we might be able to help there.” We got up when she noticed me wobbling slightly. She gasped as she saw the large bite mark on my leg.

“You’re wounded!” I looked away from her. I caused this, I deserved this. I deserved to die, I was considering myself lucky.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. We have to move now,” I stopped for a second, and then continued. “And don’t you dare use that spell on me again.” Footlock shifted on her hooves slightly, almost looking offended, before she spoke.

“You need a healing potion. Look, hold still, I have a couple with me.” She reached into one of her saddlebags, levitating out a vial of bright liquid. I would have protested more, but the look she gave me spoke to me that she was non-negotiable with this one. I finally took the bottle and gulped down the fluid. It’s been a long time since I had one of these, and it was for a much more minor injury than this one. As the potion flowed down my throat, I could already feel it working. My leg tingled as I felt the missing flesh grow anew and repair itself. I wouldn’t say it was a painful experience, but it certainly was an uncomfortable one. Once I finished it, I handed her the bottle and gave her a faux-smile.

“There, happy?” She nodded, putting the empty bottle away. She then motioned and we galloped off towards where the elder’s tent was.


***            ***     ***


When we reached the clearing that was around the tent of the elder, the night had fully settled in, only the fires of tents burning illuminated the sky. The Claritians had won the battle, but the cost had been severe. There were still a few pockets of fighting going on, but it was mostly over.

The sight we were met with as we entered the clearing was the Elder in full battle armour looking down at what appeared to be the raider leader.  As intimidating as the bloody and gnarled raider looked, he was nothing in comparison to Elder Hoofcrash, whose red and gold ornate armour perfectly complemented his black coat. It was designed to intimidate others before the fight even begun, and it provided protection to match it. I should know, I made it. He spoke in a low, menacing voice that it seemed to make the ground shake

“Any last words before I sacrifice you to the gods, you vile piece of filth?” The raider stared into his eyes with no fear or remorse, just anger. He spoke far smoother than I could have imagined any raider speak.

“The striped one offered us fresh meat, and I need to look after my people. We have to feed, and your tribe tasted delicious.” He broke off into ear-splitting shrieks of laughter. Elder Hoofcrash roared and in one telekinetic motion he unsheathed his sword and decapitated the raider. The head rolled along the ground, the fits of laughter still plastered onto its’ face. The Elder let out another roar of anger and stomped it into paste.

Footlock began to walk towards her father. I saw a raider with two rifles strapped to its side leap out of the shadows screaming. I began to reach for my revolver to shoot it, yelling at the others to look out, but I was too late. The raider bit down on a piece of metal near its mouth and both rifles fired with a loud bang. One bullet bounced harmlessly off the Elders armour with a loud clang. The other however struck against the side of his daughters head. Time slowed to a standstill as I could clearly see the bullet penetrate into her skull, and explode out the other side, followed by a large portion of her brain. The momentum of the bullet knocked her off her feet as she collapsed to the ground. I rushed to her body, tears welling up.

“No…no…” I whispered. I lifted her head gently towards me, her face was unharmed, but her eyes were cold and lifeless. I did this. That fucking picture on my flank did this. The most important pony in my life died because of me.

Around me every pony in the area opened fire on the raider while the elder charged. The raider was just howling with laughter as it screamed ‘bang bang!’ while having holes blown into it. I didn’t care; all I could think about was the pony that lay in my arms, my beloved Footlock. I never even got to tell her how I felt. Finally the raider fell down dead as my eyes began to give up trying to hold back as I cried. The Elder was smashing the raiders’ body into a bloody mess until he finally stopped and turned to look at me. His voice roared out, and this time I could swear the ground did shake as he spoke.

“Get away from her, you fucking murderer! You did this! You killed all of these ponies!” He kicked me so hard with a hoof that I flew away and landed with a thud, skidding along the dry dirt. He stomped towards me, blade raised. I dared not to look into his eyes, lest his very gaze tear my soul apart.

I closed my eyes, expecting to feel his sharp steel cut me to pieces. I heard the whoosh of air being cut, but then a sudden clang. I opened an eye to see a long metal pole ending in two sharp curved blades being held in a grey field of magic, blocking the Elders sword. I recognised it as the tribes’ blade mistress’, the lead pony of our warriors. The grey unicorn stepped over me, standing between me and the fate I deserved.

“Hoofcrash, enough have died this day! Let this one go!” Her determined gaze met with his eyes that burned like fire.

“The gods demand one more for their pile. The one who they cursed!” The Elder swung his blade again, trying to catch her off guard, but she skilfully deflected it. The two duelled it out, strength against agility. Every time he would swing his blade with such power that it would cut her in two, and every time she dodged or deflected the attack, then bringing her own blade inches away from him, forcing him to take steps away from me. She yelled back at me;

“Deadset, get out of here! You are hereby banished, now run!” I just watched, barely able to say anything back.

“But mother…”

“I said RUN!”

The elder used her distraction to his advantage. With one powerful swoop, he brought his massive blade squarely onto the centre of her weapon, cutting clean through it and breaking her telekinetic concentration.  She narrowly dodged the blade as it lodged itself deep into the ground. She spiralled around, grasping one of the halves in her magic and slashed at his face.

The tip of the blade ran across his cheek, causing a long thin line of red to be drawn along his face. As the blood started to drip down, the blade-mistress balked, dropping her weapon. No member of the Clarity tribe has ever caused a standing Elder to bleed. It was seen as the greatest offense to our gods, equal to the mark on my flank. The elder raised his hoof to the cut, inspecting the blood on his hoof.

Everypony was silent, and those moments seemed to last an eternity, until Hoofcrash spun on the spot and smashed both his back hooves into my mother’s face. The crack was her muzzle shattering was painfully loud. She flew onto her back. She turned to me, and yelled a barely understandable ‘run’ though her mangled mouth before the Elder withdrew his blade from the ground and swung it around, plunging it into her chest and sinking it down, impaling her. I saw her take her final breath as the light left her pleading eyes.

I turned and ran.


Footnote: Level up
New perk: Good natured—Social skills receive a slight boost, while aggressive skills suffer a slight reduction