So much could be had just by having the right cutie mark. Piper, lost in thought, reflected upon this very issue, pondering all of the opportunities afforded to Flicker, just because he had the right cutie mark. Others worked to help him, removing barriers, opening doors, assisting him so that he might achieve what he was meant to do.
The clever filly did not feel jealous; on the contrary, all those doors opening for him were opening for her as well. She was his friend, and would remain his friend, even when it was unpleasant. Wherever he went, she would go with him. She had a marvellous opportunity for a quick ride to the top of wherever it was that Flicker was going, and she knew that he was going to go far. She was certain that he was going to go far, because she was going to help him get there, thus insuring her own rise to the top, and whatever favourable position could be had as a companion to the Chosen One, as Flicker seemed to be.
In one of her favourite books, Success Is Making Others Successful, written by a delightful mare named Miss Harshwhinny, there was a detailed series of chapters on how to help a pony live up to their fullest possible potential, thus ensuring that your own potential blossomed. Miss Harshwhinny called it Mutually Assured Management Achievement, or M.A.M.A.
Chosen Ones were chosen, by their very nature. All of the movers and the shakers tried to make themselves indispensable to the Chosen One, hoping that in turn, the Chosen One would help them. Piper had learned that much from comic books and it was valuable information. But for every Chosen One, like Princess Twilight Sparkle, there was a Rarity.
Piper was fond of imagining that Rarity was the behind the scenes miracle worker, the fabulous, the talented, indispensable source of inspiration, the pony with the cunning and the savvy to push Twilight to the very pinnacle of success. It just had to be Rarity, Piper concluded, after much research and ‘reading between the lines’ in all of Twilight’s books written about friendship.
It was reasonable to assume that, if Piper was going to be Flicker’s Rarity, that meant that Hennessy had to be Flicker’s Rainbow Dash. It also meant that Spud was Spike and the four of them needed a few more friends. Doctor Sterling wasn’t a very good Princess Celestia, mostly due to him being a stallion, but he would have to do in a pinch, as it was obvious that he was Flicker’s mentor.
Or perhaps Hennessy was Flicker’s Applejack, it was hard to tell.
The armory. Flicker loved being in here, but he wasn’t allowed to come in here often. He had a moment of worry, thinking about Piper and Hennessy, but knew they would be fine under the watchful eye of Mister Balister. The armory smelled like steel, fine wood, leather, and oil. Training weapons and guild owned weapons were stored here. Racks of training rapiers, daggers, and throwing darts. Axes, hammers, and chain whips.
“Ah, the crossbow, mine favoured weapon,” Doctor Fiasco muttered as he stared at the rack mounted on the wall. “Mine Master, he favoured the umbrella.”
This statement made Flicker’s eyebrow arch in curiousity.
“The umbrella is the weapon of the refined gentlepony,” Doctor Sterling remarked. “The hooked end… very dangerous. Still, I prefer my silver rapier.”
With a sniff, Doctor Sterling moved to the rear wall where a collection of firearms was racked. He stopped, turned, and faced Flicker. “You are the youngest apprentice, at least in my memory, to earn this privilege. For all of your hard work, all of your effort, and your strict adherence to the rules, you have earned the right to use one of the most powerful tools of our trade, the alchemist’s shotgun.”
Flicker said nothing, but felt a warm happiness bubble within him.
“The training shotgun is a thirty two gauge weapon, one barrel, single shot. You will be issued ten shells, no more, no less, and the guild will never again give you ammunition. You will be responsible for making your own shells and spellshells.” Doctor Sterling lifted one of the guns from the rack; it was a bit worn looking, the wood had scars, character, and the brass had some dings. But it had been well cared for. “Cryoshot is popular and useful in the sewers. Flashless pellet loads are good for firing into crowds. On the rare occasions where I use a shotgun, I tend to favour glob loads that emit paralytic gas. One well placed shot near a vent can incapacitate an entire swarm.”
Flicker stared at the shotgun held in Doctor Sterling’s magic for a time, his eyes widening and narrowing as he studied the simple firearm. It was definitely a unicorn’s weapon, as there was no visible or outward accessible trigger. It was sleek, straight, little more than a metal pole a yard long. There was a wooden stock of sorts, and it was capped in brass so it could be used as a club in a pinch. The trigger was internal, and Flicker knew that he would find it with his telekinesis.
It was a literal boomstick. Utilitarian. Simple. There was nothing more on the weapon but what it absolutely needed. It might as well have been a wand charged up with spells, but with an alchemist’s shotgun, the spells were interchangeable, depending on the loadout of shells carried.
Squinting, Flicker eyed a thinner, more delicate looking rifle on the wall, designed like the shotgun, with no external trigger. The blued barrel was slender, it too, had a wooden stock of sorts, and there was a brass scope mounted on the top of the rifle. Pointing with his hoof, he asked, “What’s that?”
Turning his head, Doctor Sterling looked over at what Flicker was pointing to. There was silence for a time, and then, “That is, if my memory serves me correctly, a twenty calibre compressed air rifle, a windbüchse. It has an air reservoir that holds nine hundred or maybe one thousand pounds per square inch worth of pressure. It fires a projectile that moves almost at the speed of sound and is quite deadly at range. It is an antique from another era and it is broken.”
Broken? Flicker was not discouraged. “Can it fire silver pellets?”
“Brilliant is the colt,” Doctor Fiasco murmured under his breath. “I will take this to Mercenary Alley and see if it can be repaired. Silver pellets imbued with his magic will give the rats such a splitting headache, yes. The migraine dispenser must be fixed!”
“It is not a practical weapon, refilling the air chamber is tricky, as there are no external levers to work the pump. It’s all done through magic.” Doctor Sterling frowned a bit as Doctor Fiasco pulled the old air rifle off of the rack. His eyebrow rose like bread dough left on the counter and then the doctor’s frown became a straight line. “If we can get it working, it might be ideal. Flicker, you do have a very good idea to use silver pellets. This isn’t an apprentice weapon, but I’ll talk to Wicked about it. He might not be able to make the decision though, and if he can’t it will be Princess Luna that has to be convinced.”
“Tell Princess Luna that I’ll practice in the middens until I am a sharpshooter. Her sharpshooter.”
Doctor Fiasco let out a gleeful chuckle, and with the rifle held in his telekinesis, he hurried out of the room, cackling like a madpony. Doctor Sterling watched the wily old pony go, a blank expression upon his face, and then the old pony was gone, he looked Flicker in the eye. The pair of them studied one another for a time, and then Doctor Sterling smiled.
“This is yours,” Doctor Sterling said as he gave the shotgun a shake. “It is to be stored in your trunk, your work trunk, along with your other work gear. You may equip it when you are doing a job, but you are not to carry this in public. Am I clear?”
Flicker nodded.
“I am confident that you will not betray my trust. Other than a few minor exceptions, one of them involving a rabid bear, you have always obeyed my commands. This is why you are trusted.” The good doctor’s smile broadened as Flicker took the shotgun from his magical grasp.
“This must never, ever, under any circumstances be pointed at a pony—”
“As members of the militia we must use any and all available weapons at our disposal.”
“I don’t care what the rules and regulations say, Flicker.” Doctor Sterling now looked stern as he peered into Flicker’s eyes. “I’ve treated gunshot wounds. They’re awful. I don’t much care for firearms, but I understand that they are sometimes a necessity for our trade. You must never point this at another pony… do you understand?”
“I give you my word as your apprentice,” Flicker offered, making the most solemn oath he could think of at the moment. “I’ll not point a gun at a pony. I understand and respect your position and your opinion as a doctor.”
“Thank you, Flicker. That means a lot to me.” Doctor Sterling let out a sigh and then said, “Let’s go upstairs and get you ten shotgun shells. Remember, you only get ten, so choose wisely.”
As Flicker was stowing away his gear into his work trunk, where his mask and his now repaired body armor was stored, he heard the ringing of a bell. The sound chilled him, made his blood run cold, and the colt paused in what he was doing. In the past year of his training, he had heard stories about the bell, but he had never actually heard the bell, not this bell.
The sound lingered in his ears, haunting, enduring, not going away. Flicker shivered. There was the call bell for general alarm, the fire bell, the assembly bell, and this bell as well. It was strange, how he had never heard this bell, but still somehow recognised it.
He slammed the lid of his work trunk closed, flew out of the room, galloped through the hallways of the ground floor, (an infraction) and stopped in the central room, where many hallways and stairs converged. Ponies were gathered here, along with Asterius, and Flicker waited with his ears perked, listening for the news that was sure to come.
White Pepper appeared, stepping out of a hallway. He was half in and half out of his body armor, his work suit, and he wore no mask. Mister Pepper’s white face was splotched with blood, and many of the gathered apprentices gasped when they saw him. Flicker pushed through the crowd, needing to be closer, needing to know. Mister Pepper was limping and favouring his left front leg.
“We were swarmed in the sewers below the financial district,” Mister Pepper announced, his voice ragged, dehydrated, and weary. “Sunfire Rondache fell, buried beneath the swarm, and Beryl Waltz is in the hospital. He is not expected to survive. They both gave a good accounting of themselves. That is all.” Having said what needed to be said, Mister Pepper limped off, the crowd getting out of his way, and the soft spoken pony went up the stairs.
Stunned, Flicker just stood there. In a year of being an apprentice, this had never happened to him before. The bell might have been rung for him, had the encounter with the bear gone differently. He could hear ponies all around him talking, whispering, gasping, and he heard anger. One of their own had been taken from them and another wasn’t expected to survive.
There was now a dull ache in the base of Flicker’s throat and a white hot lump of anger in his guts. He knew both of them, in a way, but he didn’t know them well. Sunfire was brash, quick to anger, and Flicker hadn’t liked him very much, as Sunfire was sloppy and liked to cut corners. Also, when doing the cleanup after a job, Sunfire acted as though the cleanup afterwards was beneath him. Beryl, from what little Flicker knew of him, was a decent sort, a little meek, and was known for having a keen sense of direction underground.
Little by little, the crowd began to break up. Life would go on. Floors needed to be cleaned. Swords had to be sharpened. There were exams to take, courses to study, and a trade to continue learning. Dealing with loss was just a part of that. Flicker thought about his friends, and how much he wanted to be with them at the moment.
“Mister Nicker!”
Lifting his head, Flicker waited, and saw Moonlit Gambit approaching. The expression on Moonlit’s face was unreadable, the colt was holding back, that much was obvious. Flicker knew that Moonlit was part of Sunfire’s extended circle and he was certain to be feeling something, but what? Sunfire bullied those around him into doing his work for him and made those beneath him do cleanup. Mister Rondache had exceptional leadership skills, or so it was said.
“Mister Gambit, I am sorry about your friends.”
“He wasn’t my friend,” Moonlit replied, shaking his head. “Beryl was though. I did what I could to keep him from being walked all over, or tried to, anyhow.”
A little shocked, Flicker just stood there.
“Is it wrong that I am a little relieved that this happened?” Moonlit whispered. The older colt shook his head. “I was starting to reevaluate my future, Flicker. Before this happened, I was trying to think of what is important. I followed Sunfire and obeyed him because it sure seemed as though he was going to be running this guild one day. I hated him… look, I wanted to say, I haven’t been a very good friend to you, I let peer pressure influence me and my choices, and I think I’m growing up a little bit because that started feeling wrong. I am truly sorry, Flicker, and I wish that I had been a better friend to you. I know you’ve been lonely. It’s hard being the youngest.”
“Think nothing of it,” Flicker replied.
“It is all I can think about,” Moonlit confessed. “I hang out with a crowd of frauds and phonies… most of my own peers would rather do what is ‘cool’ rather than do what is ‘right.’ It’s been bothering me for a while… Beryl, he was… Beryl was sincere. He wanted to do a good job, and so many of us took advantage of him. He was always left to clean up and do the unpleasant stuff. Beryl never complained when everything was just dumped on him.”
Sometimes, a lot could be said with silence, or so Flicker believed.
“Sunfire and I actually got into a pretty big fight a few months back, and it was because I said something to him about hazing you and harassing you. I think that was the beginning of it all, at least for me, and I feel ashamed that it has taken me this long to get myself sorted out. My mother raised me better, she raised me to do what is good and what is right, and I haven’t been doing much of either.”
“Mistakes happen.” Flicker thought about saying more, but then reconsidered.
“To make everything even more complicated, we have that fencing exam. I’m feeling really nervous about it, because I actually like you and I don’t want to hurt you. I’m feeling guilty because I feel like I’ve already hurt you.”
“We can be gentleponies during the duel. It is a scholastic exercise and nothing more. I had no plans to take offense.” Flicker noticed that Moonlit’s sides were heaving and he felt bad for the unicorn standing in front of him. Something needed to be done, but what? Flicker was lost in this situation, this awkward social interaction.
“Mister Balister… he told me that being friends with you would be better for me in the long run than being friends with Sunfire. He told me that almost a year ago. I wish I had listened… I wish that I had not just gone along with… with—”
“The in crowd?” Flicker said, trying to be helpful.
Moonlit gave Flicker a wounded look. “Yeah.” The colt’s expression soured and his ears splayed out to the sides of his face. “The in crowd. This is a really confusing point in my life, Flicker… I’m trying to sort out what I need to carry with me into adulthood. Everything has to be balanced in such a complicated way. I’m so scared of making a mistake and screwing up my future. Sunfire is dead now… for some reason, a part of me believed that he was the future, and he had me convinced that his success would be my own.”
Brows furrowing, Flicker continued to listen.
“Any of us could get killed at any time,” Gambit said, almost whimpering. “Sunfire was fierce… I know you saw him during fencing. He had magic too, not much, but a lot more than I did. He had it all. He had all of the high marks for physical fitness, he set records, he outdid some of the adults, our teachers. Sunfire was a pony that was going places… and he’s gone now. It’s really weird, ya know?”
Flicker didn’t know, but he nodded.
“My mother says that any fool can die for a cause… but it is what you live for that is important. I’ve been living a lie… I hang out with fakes… phonies… frauds… charlatans… I’m sorry, Flicker, but I’ve got to go. I’m sorry, so sorry!”
And with that, Moonlit hurried away, moving like a pony possessed. Flicker watched him go, feeling a little confused, a bit out of sorts, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something he could be or should be doing. Perhaps there was something he should say, but he couldn’t think of what that might be. Moonlit vanished upon the stairs, and Flicker let out a little sigh.
Everything felt as though it was about to fly apart.
Or more probably Flicker's Fluttershy.
Does Hennessy have competition?! Find out in the next episode of The Mask Makes The Pony!!
If I remember right, wasn't it mentioned somewhere in another fic that Velvet publishes Books with Daring Do and Ms.Harshwinny? I get the feeling this book of Harshwinny's was Co-Authored by Velvet.
7801627 I wish I could draw. Imagine Gosling sitting in one of those in the royal pool
-Sometime later-
Flicker: "I am hesitant to report to you the traitor feeding our movements and whereabouts to the enemy has been neutralized with extreme prejudice."
Silver: "Mister Nicker, you swore never to aim that device at another pony. . ."
Flicker: "When I killed the traitor with this gun I stopped being an apprentice, so my word, and your honor remain intact."
Hennessy: "Yah, unlike his skull."
The truth comes out.
Piper is a shipper.
In settings like this, this is a big reason why I often like villains. Don't get me wrong, these villains are often horrible monsters, but they're self made-their power, their position, was often earned and they worked for it.
Not to say Twilight or the others haven't worked for their feats, but it seems like things are or would be stacked against villains in the setting, and yet they make it.
Eh, just some musings.
On one hand I like the shot gun description and the shells possible. On the other hand the fact that the guild will never again issue ammunition to one of its lead hunters is ridiculous, in my opinion. I get that he is supposed to establish himself and be self sufficient, but at the very damn least they could issue him the resources to make more ammunition and maybe in a pinch some standard shells-maybe have more specialized ones be under his care. The fact that they have shells to give out at all implies some sort of manufacture is going on and...
Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just this is a situation not too dissimilar to an armored knight of the late medieval period. It's similar in that this knight has to have a large support network to do his fighting on the battlefield-squires to help him dress, an armorer to maintain armor and weaponry, stable master for the care of his horse...you get the idea. Here for what could be a key weapon in his arsenal, they're saying they're not gonna offer any more support, ever. Oh, are you depleted from your last mission fighitng off a swarm of rats the size of a house that were eating the left eyeballs of every orphan with an odd number in their age? Welp, too bad, we're not gonna do jack shit, now good luck against the zombie rat horde that these would have been useful against.
I suppose this could be a sign of an outdated institution or a flawed system, in which case I consider it flawed, although it would be somewhat accurate-archers were often required to field their own arrows, if I recall.
Then how does he recognize it? Did he read a description? Why did they not replicate the sound during training just so that he would recognize it? I can't think of a single reason why that bell wouldn't be sounded at least once so they'd know what it actually is.
7802860
He's heard every other bell sound, this one was new, and it was the only one left. Deduction.
Flicker will be given all of the resources needed to make shells. It is part of his schooling. He'll never waste a shot with resources being what they are.
7802828 i would go with "at the moment he went against their majesties he became a vermin to our society, as such i had no need to hold back. i exterminated a vermin. as he was a pony shaped vermin and not a pony, my oath remains unaffected"
7802840
All the more Rarityfied, then.
7802887
New OC: Smokey Niter, alchemist pegasus. One wing, blew it off, now builds canon shots. Being ground bound doesn't mean you can't attack the sky!
7802828 I think the traditional movie solution is to use the gun to shoot the rope holding the shipping container full of anvils over your target's head.
Again another chapter hitting right in the feels..
Mixed on making their own ammo it does teach them the work involved in making it and cost of the ammo. On the other side of that coin I can see where demand on thier time would keep some agents from having the time to make ammo
7803108
Some members make ammo and sell it.
7802860 7803108 7803110
As Haiku explained, the Guild will never issue ammunition. They will provide the resources necessary, and if someone within the Guild has time they can produce it for sale, and reasonably in times of crisis this rule will be suspended. It's identical to the Guild's handling of candles and other alchemicals.
But unless you made an assumption like I did, the passage does read that they're completely in their own in this regard; any confusion is understandable.
(As to whether this is an outmoded rule/procedure, it might be. For now, we must assume that Equestrian gunpowder is a mixture of charcoal, sulfur and nitrate, but it's also possible that it's a combination of different, more exotic materials that the Guild doesn't have the resources to just hand out. I'm assuming this is the case; notice Flicker's interest in the air rifle, a weapon that his exceptional telekinetic strength seems to be a perfect match for, and which requires no materials for propulsion aside from compressible atmosphere)
7803237 It might also be they prefer swords since ammo will always be a limited resource. Also less chance of collateral damage with a sword. I doubt its the gun powder thats the sticking point but more likely what they load the shells with or the primers like Wicked candles
Why do I feel we are going to have lots of sads before this is done? I don't like this feeling :< Still, great work as usual!
7803300 considering the job they are doing alot of sads is given
The way Piper is planning out her and her friends' futures is a bit on the far side of slightly concerning. I do approve of her stance on Rarity, though.
A shotgun and a rifle for Flicker? Well, probably better than the chainsaw in some way I can't quite define.
Piper was thinking they needed a few more companions for the Chosen one, maybe Moonlit could be a candidate for that. Beryl too, assuming that by some miracle he survives.
7802785
Flicker has made a commitment to Hennessy. Thus, this "competition" is an impossibility, because Flicker. I doubt even the most obvious of flirting would even tip Flicker off to any attraction from Gambit.
32 gauge seems like it would be vial diameter. Curious.
Interesting idea
7804170
32 gauge shotguns are meant for shooting birds or vermin. They have a long, narrow shell, and can be stunningly accurate.
They are also relatively quiet, for a gun.
32 gauge and 28 gauge have long been the go to shotguns for dealing with vermin. I did a lot of reading on the subject and spent a long time in gun history forums.
7804044
Shut up, Flicker. You didn't get the obvious joke.
7804440
Interrogative torture doesn't work very well.
Indoctrinative torture works beautifully, especially after you remove the subject's cohesive sense of self and self identity. Problem is, this takes time. It is why battered women stay in love with their abusers, and also why Stockholm Syndrome, and military bootcamp are all a thing.
7804194 And both of them are far more effective in that role than the weird .410 bore that has, for some mysterious reason, hung around persistently. I suppose the .410 can be a reasonable rat-whacker if you don't routinely encounter ROUSes.
Oh Piper~
I wonder if two KIA's warrant a royal visit?
7804440
...Exactly?
7804433
*considers pretending to have gotten the joke, but realizes how obvious it would be*
*decides to feel stupid instead*
7802785 The Mask Makes the Pony?
Why kid ourselves? It should be called The Rat Catcher's Harem.
7887273
Pray tell, why should it be called this exactly?
Do you have some information that I'm not privy to?
32 gauge a broomstick? 12 gauge has something to say about that
8033450
Broomstick?
8033453
well i think what mr swanky meant is that a 32 gauge is actually really small
in shotgun gauge the lower the number the bigger the bore
a 16 gauge is bigger than a 20 gauge
the largest shot gun made by man is the 2 gauge punt gun
and is more artillery than shotgun
Oh god Flicker is up against undead with a chainsaw and a boomstick. The world is screwed and ya just added a ponified ASH to the mix.
Dayum dat boomstick.
Unicorn weaponry is always a fun thought experiment, I find.
Because any weaponry is likely to be wielded with telekinesis, there is no neccessity to add handles, hand protection, guards, or basically any other concession to the physical body doing the fighting, aside from being able to stow the weapon away when it isn't being used. For which you can use conjuration, depending on the setting and unicorn.
A unicorn sword can be as simple as a naked blade.
In fact, in case of tribal warfare, you'd EXPECT a unicorn weapon to be just that, as the other tribes can't use your weapon against you if they can't wield it.
body armor
8051292
ah yes, the dreaded punt gun, often used historically by rich game shooters, because it was impossible ta miss with it, so ya set up a team on a cart with a loaded punt gun then the noble who couldn't hit the broadside of a barn from inside said barn claims credit. I guess it's hardly surprising that the peers back then needed an extra edge against the intellect of a deliberately selectively inbred for stupidity waterfowl. Had to give the also likely heavily bred for stupidity (albeit accidentally in the name of blood purity) nobility a fighting chance after all.
I know this necroposting, but hmm, is this Mister Sunfire any relation to the previous Milord of Sunfire barony?
9313169
Yes.
8033450
overcompensating barrels are pointless against small rats, a smaller gauge is more likely ta kill without the adrenaline rush in the prey that may cause them ta crawl off somewhere ta die (feeding mair rats in the process), and since weedverse rats seem particularly predatory and plague laden odds are an overkilled rodent would as likely continue their attack until their brain finally hits the term code. So big guns vs killer rats == baaaad idea, a .22 is enough ta kill without overkill and that's in an AIR gun.