A tale of steel, savagery, revenge, romance, and tons of violence and gore.
Between the time when the oceans drank Gallantis and the rise of the sons of Maryas, there was an age undreamed of. And unto this, Comac, destined to wear the jeweled crown of Equinlonia upon a troubled brow. It is I, his chronicler, who alone can tell thee of his saga. Let me tell you of the days of high adventure!
This is a fic based on the character of Conan the Barbarian by Robert E. Howard mixed with MLP by Hasbro and Lauren Faust. Cover art by atryl (though his description will be somewhat different from the art). Since Big Macintosh (aka Comac) is the main character, the only other tags I'll use are OC and Other.
Between the time when the oceans drank Gallantis and the rise of the sons of Maryas, there was an age undreamed of. And unto this, Comac, destined to wear the jeweled crown of Equinlonia upon a troubled brow. It is I, his chronicler, who alone can tell thee of his saga. Let me tell you of the days of high adventure!
COMAC
THE BARBARIAN
By ThatBronyWithTheClip-Ons
Starring Big Macintosh Apple As Comac
Based on the character Conan by Robert E. Howard & My Little Pony by Hasbro and Lauren Faust
The Hayborian age was a time of swordplay, magic, and savagery. In the region of Currmeria, lived Comac. Comac was from a village who’s residents who were trained to fight practically from birth. He himself was born literally on a battlefield; his mother only stopped fighting long enough to give birth before continuing to fight once more. His father was a warrior and blacksmith, teaching his son the ways of steel and iron.
“Long ago,” his father began. “The goddess, Faustia, granted gifts to the equine of the earth. To the pegasai, the ability to control weather. To the unicorns, the gift of magic. And to the earth equine, agriculture. But all share one thing…”
Comac’s father then pulled out a newly forged broadsword. It was as tall as the young Comac; shimmering in the sunlight, with leather wrapped tightly around the hilt, and what appeared to be a open half of an apple engraved in the center.
“But we, the earth ponies are the greatest masters of this craft,” continued his father. “For the metals come from the earth in which we share the greatest bond. Unicorns may use magic on their weapons, but magic can fail. A true weapon, made with true labor, will never fail. You can always trust in it Comac. Remember this, my son.”
The father handed the sword over to his young son, still in awe of it’s beauty. He had a difficult time picking it up, feeling some shame for not being as strong as his mighty father.
“Do not feel sad, my son,” the father comforted him. “With enough time, you will become strong and powerful. I myself didn’t start out this size and with great strength; no equine does.”
Comac knew he would have many opportunities to become a powerful warrior, like his parents before him. If he was lucky enough, he would even get to train his younger sisters. Comac looked like most earth equine of his class. He had dark red fur, bright green eyes, and a dark yellow mane, just like his father. And while his father could be a hard but firm teacher, the two had a strong bond. He had two younger sisters, one of whom was only just starting to talk, and another that had been born mere weeks ago. He knew his family was strong and no force on earth could destroy that.
But then…a darkness came. Without warning, on a cold winters morning, a siege had come to Comac’s village. A horde of armored equine rode in on timberwolves, also armored. They carried a banner, which sported glowing green eyes. The marauders showed no mercy in the lives they took; taking down stallions and mares with ease. The children of the village were being captured by nets and ropes. To Comac’s shock, his own father had been struck down. His mother came to his side, and prepared herself for a fight. Then, one armored equine, clearly the leader, appeared at the front. His height was impressive, and he was clad in pitch black armor with long horns adorned on his helmet. He removed his helmet, to reveal a unicorn with ash grey fur, blood red eyes, and a glowing red curved horn on his forehead. His mane was pitch black and wild like a savage.
Comac’s mother held her sword tighter, preparing to strike when possible. But the mysterious unicorn gave her a look as if he had no intentions of harming her. She slowly lowered her sword and grabbed her son’s hand, letting her guard down. She was unable to anticipate the unicorn’s deceit as he swung his sword, taking her head. Comac felt his mother’s grip became slack, as her headless body collapsed to the snow covered ground. Filled with rage, Comac attempted to strike at the dark stallion who took his family and neighbors from him; but it was all for not. It only took one hit, and he was down.
“He has quite the spirit,” said the dark stallion. “But spirit, without strength, can win you no fight.”
“Shall we place him with the other children, Lord Sombra?” asked one of his subordinates.
“No,” responded Sombra. “I have different plans in mind for this one.”
Comac began to stir, trying to regain his composure, when Lord Sombra picked him up by the neck and looked right into his eyes.
“I’m sure you will never forget me, boy,” said Lord Sombra. “And I’m sure you will try to come after me in some foolhardy attempt at revenge. I won’t say don’t attempt such an act. In fact, I relish in the thought of that day coming. But you will never defeat me in your current state. Remember that the world is cruel, and your dear Faustia will not be there to help you up when you fall. If you are going to survive, you must also be cruel.”
Lord Sombra then flung young colt into a separate cage from the rest of the other children, who were going in a different direction. The young colt cried out to his younger sisters, promising that he would find them one day. He was struck once more and passed out for a second time.
Days after the siege of his village, Comac was taken from his home in Currmeria, to the land of Zebmora to be sold into slavery to a plantation owner. His new owner was a blue unicorn, with a black mane and green eyes. He was wearing extravagant robes, clearly having a high position.
“You can’t be serious,” said the plantation owner. “You expect me to pay 1000 bits for this scrawny thing?”
“He may look small, but he comes from great stock,” said the slave trader. “His family were all forgers of steel. He will grow into a fine stallion.”
“Till then, he isn’t good for much,” retorted the plantation owner. “I’ll give you 500 bits for him.”
“Are you trying to insult me,” exclaimed the trader.
“I doubt you’ll find anyone else willing to pay higher for him,” added the plantation owner.
“Make it 600 bits,” said the trader.
The plantation owner took another look at the red colt. He saw a fire in his eyes. Eyes that said, I will not be easily tamed.
“Very well,” he said. “600 for him.”
The trader rode off, as Comac was left with the plantation owner. Comac continued to look angrily at his new “master.”
“It is not wise to give such a look to your new master,” he exclaimed.
“I am Comac of Currmeria,” he finally spoke. “I have no master.”
“Well, aren’t you feisty one,” chuckled the master, who then hit Comac with a bit of magic.
“But that won’t keep you alive around here,” he shouted to him. “You will do everything I say, when I say it. I am Stratos, but you will call me Master! I’m a powerful unicorn, and you are nothing but a mere equine of the mud. Do as I say, and you will do just fine. Challenge me, and you’ll wish you’d died with your village. Do you understand me?”
Stratos awaited Comac to respond with a “Yes, Master Stratos.” But nothing came from his mouth. Angered at first, he decided to put the boy to work right away.
“Eventually, you’ll learn to call me Master,” he said. “For now, follow me to the fields.”
Stratos led Comac to his farming fields, of various types of vegetation.
“What business does a unicorn have in owning a farm?” Comac asked his new master. “Everyone knows that only earth equine can grow food.”
Stratos turned around and physically smacked Comack.
“You never speak without permission, boy,” he exclaimed. “I do not need to be an earth equine to own land! That’s why I have slaves!”
“I am not boy,” Comac spoke out of turn again. “I am Comac of Currmeria.”
“I will not harm you again this time,” said Stratos. “I need my new property in decent shape for his first day of work. But, know this, I will strike you again and again till you learn your place…boy.”
Stratos then took Comac to one of his assistants, a male pegasus, who attached a yoke around the young colt’s neck.
“It barely fits him, boss,” said the assistant.
“He will grow into it,” said Stratos. “In time. Take him to the main field.”
“You sure he’s in shape enough for that?” asked the assistant.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” said Stratos. “I want to show him who is in charge.”
The pegasus took Comac by the rope attached to his yoke, and lead him to the main field. It was the biggest in all the plantation, and there were no areas for shading.
“You must have rubbed Stratos the wrong way to have him already working you in the main field,” said the pegasus. “You better learn to cooperate here, if you’re going to survive.”
Comac said nothing.
“You can call me Aero,” he continued. “You can probably guess that I’m not a slave. I work for Stratos, I receive payment. What do they call you?”
“I am Comac of Currmeria,” he finally said. “I am slave to nobody.”
“You can say that all you like, young one,” said Aero. “But that doesn’t make it any more true. Stratos won’t put up with your insubordination long. He will make an example of you to the others. He’ll break your spirit, sooner or later.”
Comac had no response to Aero’s warning. His yoke was attached by the ropes to a large metal plow. Another worker on the plantation ordered him to start moving…but he wouldn’t move an inch. He was ordered a second time, but still no movement. Finally, he was struck with a whip. While it caused him to flinch some, Comac still refused to move from his spot. When the worker struck again, Comac attempted to grab the whip from the stallion’s hand and pull him to the ground. Despite his efforts, Comac was pushed to the ground and held down by two farmhands. Stratos heard the camotion and walked to the main field.
“What in Faust’s name is going on here!?” yelled Stratos.
“This little wretch tried to take the whip from my hand,” yelled the worker.
“It’s time to show you what we do to earth equine like you,” grinned Stratos.
Comac was carried into farmhouse, where a blacksmith heated up some sort of branding device. He was then chained to a wooden table that was secured to the floor; he was completely stuck.
“This is normally applied somewhere on the upper torso or leg,” said Stratos. “But I want you to remember you station in life. Every time you see yourself in a reflective device, you will always see this mark.”
Stratos gave the signal to his blacksmith, and he moved over to Comack with a heated rod with some sort of symbol on it. Comac struggled with all his might, but it was to no avail. All he could remember was feeling hot metal applied to his face. He’d never screamed so loudly in his life. When it was over, he was released from the table and he fell to the floor, clutching his right eye.
“Have a look at what’s been done to you, boy,” said Stratos.
Comac stumbled to a nearby mirror and saw what had been done. Over his right eye was a burn in the shape of a lower case e.
“This is to symbolize your place in the world,” said Stratos. “You are an earth equine. You are the lowest of the low; you‘re barely higher than the dirt itself. You are only deserving of a lowercased letter. Everyone in the land who sees this on your face, will know what you are. You aren’t in any real shape to work today. So consider yourself lucky, boy. I will permit you to rest for one night. After that, you will work for as many hours as I say, till your very last breath.”
That evening, Comac was lying on some straw in a tiny room; unable to sleep from lack of food. Not helping was that he was unable to remove his yoke, making it nearly impossible to find a comfortable position. While he wasn’t in as much pain as before, his eye was still stinging. He heard a knock on his door, and put through a small slot, was a red apple.
“Don’t tell anyone where you got this,” said Aero. “No point in starving you when you’re that scrawny.”
Comac grabbed the apple and began devouring it frantically.
“I know you’re in a bad situation,” said Aero. “Personally, I think equine owning other equine is cruel. But that's the world we live in, and I need to do what I can to survive. If that means working for a slave owner, so be it. I can tell you have plans for your future; I see it in your eyes. Those plans won’t happen if you keep causing trouble like you did. And this was only your first day. Clearly Stratos can tell you’re more spirited than most, probably why he decided to burn you so early. If you play your cards right, maybe one day you can get out of this place and do whatever you need to do. Anyway, you better rest up, Faust only knows what he’s got planned for you.”
Aero closed the slot on Comac’s cell door and flew off. After finishing his apple, Comac thought once more about the day his village was attacked. He remembered what Lord Sombra had said to him.
“Remember that the world is cruel, and your dear Faustia will not be there to help you up when you fall. If you are going to survive, you must also be cruel."
Comac wasn’t going to let his spirits be broken. He would do what this Stratos told him to do, but he would never call him master. He would gain his freedom and get his revenge. And no branding mark was going to tell him what he could and could not do.
Seasons passed, as Comac continued to serve Stratos on his plantation. Despite the burn on his face and the whip marks on his back, the dark red equine never called him master. And the long hours of slave labor did eventually pay off, as Comac grew in height and frame; becoming a prime specimen of a stallion. He had outlived many of the other young colts brought along to be slaves, most of whom had died from exhaustion. Stratos saw the earth equine’s massive size as a new way to make some extra bits.
“I no longer require your services in the field, Comac,” said Stratos. “I think an equine of your size and strength could make me some generous bits in the gladiator ring.”
“Not as if I have any choice in the matter,” Comac retorted.
“Very good, Comac,” sneered Stratos. “You know your place in this world.”
Stratos took Comac to Haykania, a city well known for its various sporting events; gladiatorial fights being the most popular. Stratos pulled Comac along the city, his yoke hooked to a chain that Stratos held in his hand. The slave master finally found the place he was looking for. He met with master of ceremonies; or rather the masters of ceremonies. They were both lanky unicorn equines, with yellow fur, bright red manes, both wearing jeweled robes and various rings on their fingers. One was clean shaven, while the other sported a long Fu Manchu mustache.
“Greetings, good sir,” exclaimed the clean shaven one. “ I’m Flimly.”
“And I’m Flamdaul,” exclaimed the Fu Manchu one. “And welcome to our world famous gladiatorial arena!”
“How may my brother and I be of assistance to you?” asked Flimly.
“I would like to enter my slave here into one of your competitions,” said Stratos, presenting Comac.
The two brothers walked around Comac, giving him a look over.
“Well, he certainly is a big one,” said Flimly.
“Indeed he is,” agreed Flamdaul. “But, does he have any fighting experience?”
“He’s actually a field worker,” said Stratos. “But he was first raised in the lad of Currmeria; land of warriors.”
The brother continued to look over Comac. Flimly arched an eyebrow in thought, while Flamdaul twirled his long mustache.
“Well, I suppose we could start him off with the less skilled fighters,” announced Flimly.
“That should work out just fine,” agreed Flamdaul. “Do you have any sort of outfit for him to wear?”
“An outfit?” asked Stratos.
“But of course,” exclaimed Flimly. “Did you expect him to fight in a drab loincloth and dirty old yoke?“
“It should go without saying!“ exclaimed Flamdaul.
“Although…“ began Flimly. “That could make for an interesting image. If the young stallion survives a few matches, he could be billed as a field hand making his way up the ranks!”
“The spirited young warrior from Currmeria!” exclaimed Flamdaul.
“Does he have a name?” asked Flimly.
“He’s called Comac,” said Stratos.
“AH!” both brothers said together.
“An exciting name!” exclaimed Flimly.
“A striking name!” exclaimed Flamdaul.
“COME SEE COMAC OF CURRMERIA!” both exclaimed in unison.
“The crowed will eat it up!” exclaimed Flamdaul.
“Indeed they will, dear brother of mine!” agreed Flimly. “Indeed they will! But first we need to spread some word around the city of this up and coming warrior!”
“Excuse me, good sir…” began Flamdaul, not knowing the owner’s name.
“I am called Stratos,” he told them.
“Very good,” said Flamdaul. “Now, Stratos, do you and your warrior here have a place to stay before his first fight?”
“That won’t be a problem,” explained Stratos. “I have bits to pay for a place to sleep.”
“Very good very good,” exclaimed Flimly. “The less we have to pay for your expenses, the better. More bits for you when the bets come in.”
“Any weapons?” asked Flamdaul.
“Well, I…” Stratos began to stay.
“I can make my own weapon,” interrupted Comac. "Currmerians learn at a very young age.”
“Oh my oh my! He is an interesting one!” exclaimed Flimly.
“Indeed he is!” agreed Flamdaul. “The crowed will love to hear that as well. Fighter who forges his own weapons!”
“We must go and spread the word now, good sir,” exclaimed Flimly. “You both better get yourselves prepared for the big event tomorrow!”
“Noon! On the dot!” exclaimed Flamdaul.
The two ran off in great excitement, leaving Stratos and Comac alone. Stratos then gave his slave a harsh look.
“What is wrong with you?” asked Stratos. “Telling them you can make your own weapons!? We don’t have the time to be forging swords or axes or whatever your crazy mind is thinking!”
“I don’t need a sword,” said Comac. “A blunt instrument fashioned from wood will suffice.”
“I suppose, we can manage that,” growled Stratos.
“But, I choose what wood to use,” said Comac.
“Don’t start giving me orders!” exclaimed Stratos.
“I am an earth equine,” said Comac. “I am more in tune with things that grow from the earth. I will know what wood will make for the best weapon. I was merely stating a fact…master.”
It was the first time Stratos had ever heard Comac refer to him as master.
“Why the sudden respect?” asked Stratos.
“The thought of fighting competitively intrigues me,” explained Comac. “I figured I might as well start calling you master to help with this image that those two ‘unusual’ brothers are cooking up. It’s more getting myself used to saying it, rather than respect.”
“I suppose I’ll take it,” said Stratos. “Will you need any armor or some form of protection?”
“Might as well win some bits before spending on superfluous things,” commented Comac.
“You certainly are sure of yourself,” chuckled Stratos.
“Would you have brought me here if you weren’t also sure?” asked Comac.
“I suppose you have a point there,” Stratos chuckled again. “Alright then, let’s go out and find you some wood to fashion a weapon. If you manage to survive, maybe I’ll get you the supplies to make something a bit more flashy.”
The day of the match had begun. The crowd was already riled up and ready for a fight. The stadium was of a decent size, plenty of room for the challengers to run around and attack one another. Flimly and Flamdaul appeared in the middle of the arena in a puff of smoke to get the crowd even more excited.
"WELCOME FELLOW EQUINE! WE'VE GOT QUITE A TREAT FOR YOU TODAY! BRING OUT THE FIGHTERS!"
Comac emerged, wielding crudely made club made from a chunk of wood Stratos had purchased for him, merely some shoulder pads. as protection, and still wearing his yoke.
"FROM THE FAR AWAY LANDS OF CURRMERIA, COMAC!"
His opponent was a fellow Earth Equine, though of a slightly bigger build and more scarring. His fur was a dark brown, with a light tan mane. He'd clearly seen battle many times, and won. He was wielding a sword, and clad in a bit more armor, including a helmet.
"FROM OUR VERY OWN NECK OF THE WOODS, WE INTRODUCE ONCE MORE, THORGRIM!
The crowed cheered as loud as they could for Thorgrim. Comac knew this meant he was going to have a challenge; he couldn't wait to show them what he had. Once introductions were out of the way, the unicorn brothers vanished once again in a puff of smoke. This clearly meant the match was to begin, as Thorgrim began his strike on Comac. But the red Earth Equine was quick on his feet and managed to swerve out of the way. Despite his larger build though, Thorgrim was quick as well, and he kept on swinging. The swinging paid off some, as he was able to nick Comac's arm, letting out not a lot of blood but enough to cause trouble. During all this Flimly and Flamdaul gave commentary.
"BLOOD HAS BEEN DRAWN! OUR NEW FIGHTER BETTER GET HIS DEFENSES UP!"
"What a fool you are!" exclaimed Thorgrim, clearly playing to the crowd like the twin promoters, but still able to keep swinging. "Using a pathetic club in a fight to the death! Steel is the only true power!"
Comac did not respond to these remarks, not that he was known for his words.
"WE ARE CLEARLY DEALING WITH A STRONG, SILENT TYPE FOLKS!"
At this point, he knew he'd have to find a weak point in his opponent's strategy. He'd been taught that no matter how skilled the warrior, there was always a way to defeat them. Given that this is an arena fight, he also knew that there were no formal rules to how they fight. Comac decided to go for a swing to the shins. In his experience, most were affected by a blow to the shins.
"OOOH! RIGHT TO THE SHINS!"
Sure enough, this strategy worked, as Thorgrim lost his footing and loosened the grip on his sword. Comac used this opportunity to smack the opponent in the wrist, naturally causing him to lose his sword and even cry out a little in pain.
"Looks like a club isn't so pathetic after all," smirked Comac, his remark causing the crowd to rile up.
"MY MY! LOOKS LIKE THE CURRMERIAN CAN MAKE A QUIP!"
This remark sent Thorgrim into a rage, running towards Comac with no weapons. Comac swung again, and hit Thorgrim right in the face, knocking his helmet off and him to the ground.
"OUR NEW FIGHTER HAS GAINED THE UPPER HAND! HE MAY VERY WELL WIN THIS FIGHT!"
Comac slowly walked towards his fallen opponent to finish him; only to see him begin to beg for his life.
"Please, have mercy," he exclaimed.
"IT WOULD APPEAR OUR CHAMPION IS BEGGING FOR HIS LIFE!"
Comac seemed to believe these words, when Throgrim sneered and took a swung with his bare hand right Conan's abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. The crowd cheered on. Comac fell to one knee and held his stomach.
"OH! LOOKS LIKE THE CURREMERIAN HAS FALLEN FOR ONE OF THE OLDEST TRICKS IN THE SCROLL! AND IT LOOKS LIKE THORGRIM WILL REMAIN CHAMPION!"
Thorgrim picked up his sword and walked towards Comac, clearly ready to finish him off.
"You moronic lump of feces!" exclaimed Thorgrim. "This is a battle to the death! There is no room for mercy! Your precious Faustia will not save you!"
Those words struck a chord with Comac, remembering the words of Lord Sombra.
"Remember that the world is cruel, and your dear Faustia will not be there to help you up when you fall. If you are going to survive, you must also be cruel."
This memory was enough to send Comac into a rage. He regained his footing just in time to take another swing at Thorgrim. First in the stomach to make up for his own injury.
"BUT WAIT! COMAC HAS REGAINED HIS STRENGTH!"
Then another swing to the face once more. Only this time, once Thorgrim fell, Comac made sure he didn't get back up. He proceeded to smash into his opponent savagely, without any breaks, till finally his face was reduced practically to a pile of goo.
"BY FAUST! HE IS SHOWING NO MORE MERCY TODAY!"
The audience at first remained silent, until the Currmerian let out a cry of victory; they soon followed. Flimly and Flamdaul reappeared in the arena to announce his victory.
"LOOKS AS THOUGH WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION! COMAC THE BARBARIAN!"
It did not take long for Comac the Barbarian to become one of the star gladiators of Haykania. Thanks to his many victories, Stratos was able to purchase better materials for Comac to forge new weapons and armor. His reputation spread like wildfire as Equine from all over the land came to see this savage beast in combat. He grew stronger as a warrior and his skills became more refined with every fight. Stratos was naturally pleased as he was making a small fortune off his champion slave. But that didn't mean things were going well between the two behind the arena.
"You want what!?" exclaimed Stratos.
"I want a cut of the winnings," said Comac.
"How dare you!" said Stratos. "You're not some employee! You're my slave! I own you! These bits are mine!"
"This isn't the field," Comac said sternly. "You didn't earn any of those bits. I did. I defeated all those warriors. The crowds aren't showing up to see you."
"I give you bits for your armor and weapons! What do you need money for!? You can't spend it yourself! You can't go anywhere without me!"
"I am just asking for some of the shares, not even half. Do you have no honor?"
"Honor!? I'm not trying to have honor! I'm trying to make money! I'm not looking for good graces with your mighty Faust! You're not my equal, Comac! I am your master!"
"Comac has no master."
Comac saying this caused Stratos to fill with rage and zap Comac with a beam of magic. Comac flung back and the impact cracked the walls.
"You do have a master, you worthless pile of earth equine shit! Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I even let you live!? I could've easily killed you that day you first showed up on my land! You've done nothing but show me disrespect!"
"You do not deserve respect," gasped Comac. "You enslave others and make them do your bidding. I may be a so called worthless pile of earth equine shit, but my kind never enslaved others thinking we were better than them. I thank Faust that I'm nothing like you!"
Stratos prepared to shoot antother beam at his slave, when suddenly Comac flung a dagger right at Stratos's shoulder. Before he could properly react, Comac then swung his ax and hacked his horn clean off. He then stumbled back and crashed into a table, collapsing to the floor.
"Unable to harness your precious magic? Yes, in that area you were more powerful, but your reflexes and fighting skills are non existent. Magic can fail, but steel will always be effective. I have had enough of you! I no longer wish to perform in these sideshow attractions. I plan to find the Unicorn who slaughtered my village and kill him."
"You think you can kill Lord Sombra!?" laughed Stratos. "You're crazier...than I could eve imagine!"
Continuing to laugh at what he considered the most obsurred thing to ever be spoken, Comac took a final swing of his ax and nearly split his former master's head in two. Blood splurted out like a fountain and splashed Comac in the face, but he didn't even blink. He picked up his various belongings, as well as all the winnings from his matches, and then flung Stratos's lifeless body onto a cart. He had a final conversation with the arena masters, Flimly and Flamdaul.
"Pity to see you go, good sir," said Flimly.
"Indeed it is," continued Flamdaul. "You put on one hell of a show!"
"But we certainly aren't going to force you into anything," said Flimly.
"Certainly not, that's just poor business," said Flamdaul.
"But if you ever change your mind, feel free to come back!" said Flimly.
Comac gave them both a firm handshake and walked off.
"I certainly wasn't going to argue with him after what he did to that awful Stratos," said Flimly.
"Indeed, dear brother," said Flamdaul. "Indeed."
Comac traveled back to the plantation, the slaves were working the fields when they saw Comac pulling the cart, but there seemed to be no sign of their master. The red earth stallion then flung Stratos's body into the middle of the field so that everypony could see what had happened.
"Your so called master is dead," said Comac. "You are all free to go wherever you want."
Before any of the others could say something, Comac walked onward with his cart full of weapons and bits off into the unknown.
