Wildling Pony versus Pony-At-Arms
MORNING IN THE EVERFREE FOREST
The heavy caws and long wails of birds and creatures unknown came from the depths of the forest and the thick canopies shrouding it. Ancient trees, towering behemoths of the Everfree, tracing their lineage back to long before Equestria's founding and expecting to remain for millennia yet, spread their branches over across the sky, consuming the light and leaving only gloom for the creatures below. These elders of the Everfree had thick dark-brown bark, and dark-green leaves covering their tall arching branches. Through scattered breaks in the canopy, slim beams of concentrated light cast from a sun that had once been called Celestia's pierced through the gloom, illuminating just enough for the creatures of the world beneath to make their way.
These beams revealed the overgrown dark green blades of grass covering the forest floor, and the tiny blue mushrooms with little purple spots and white stalks, clustered up near to the bulky roots of the ancient trees. A well-placed beam of light also revealed an anomaly in the deep dark of the forest. Growing right beneath the brilliant sun-beam, upon a tall bone-white stalk, was a dark-blue bulb with slim dull-white lines going up it's sides and circling at the top.
The bulb was large and tilted up towards the light, basking in the sunlight... and then in the midst of this basking it twitched. Slowly the petals began to open up, a flower blooming forth from the bulb. The separate dark-blue petals were revealed, with white outlines around their edges, and a pale white center. Little purple tendrils straightened out from the pollen-filled middle, and stretched in the air, waving up towards the light. The plant's petals shook and waved softly in pleasure, and the tendrils danced in the air, feeding on the glorious sunlight... This was not a common flower in the Everfree. This flower was rare. This flower was beautiful. This flower was treasured.
CRUNCH!
A heavy hoof stomped down onto the blooming plant, grinding it into the grass, crushing the tendrils flat and snapping the stalk as a pair of hate-filled eyes glared down upon the rare magical flower, pearly white teeth gritted in disgust.
The stallion responsible for the crushing wore dark-orange colored plate armor over his torso, and a similar colored helm on top of his head, with holes for his ears, light-brown leather straps tied beneath the chin, and a sharp iron-black metal blade jutting out from the metal curving over the nose. Along his back was a set of interlocking dark-orange plates that led all the way to his tail. His tail was long and braided, with three dark sandy-brown colored circular bands clasped at the top, middle, and near the end, each with four little black-metal spikes sticking out. At the very end of his braided tail was a solid black-iron spiked ball, heavy, resting against the ground as the stallion stood.
Upon the front of his torso, fitted onto the front of the plate armor at the upper-chest was a small gold horseshoe, symbol of the House Earthborn. Dark sandy-brown scale-mail covered most of his body, forelegs protected by scale-mail sleeves and the sides of his head protected by scale-mail flaps. The scale left most of his hind-legs uncovered, with the hind hooves covered by heavy dark-orange hoof-guards, obviously meant less as actual guards and more as offensive weapons.
The stallion beneath all this armor was very fit, with hard powerful muscles and glaring dark-grey eyes. There was a scar beneath his left eye on the cheek-bone, pale and jagged, along with a pair of fresher clean-cut scars upon his hind legs above the knees at the back. His coat was a light-brown and covered in sweat. Dirt and twigs had been caught up in the hairs of not only his coat, but his tail as well from the hard trek through the Everfree. While his mane was covered by the helm his tail showed his hair to be a very dark brown, with a sandy-brown streak running through it. He looked tough, strong, and unflinching. A soldier of the Earthborn who had fought and killed for the cause. A fine sample of the Earthborn's military prowess.
COMBATANT ONE: Pony-at-Arms Master-Sergeant: Earthborn Rank and File
ADVANTAGES:
Heavy weapons and armor.
Physical strength.
Uniform drills and training.
DISADVANTAGES:
Slow speed.
Fatigue from armor and weapon weight.
Used to fighting in groups.
MAIN WEAPONS:
Helmet-Blade, Steel-Clad Hind-Hooves, and Tail-Mace.
The stallion stopped grinding and lifted his hoof up from the grass. All that was left of the flower was a broken stalk and ruined petals. A purple tendril twitched slightly, squashed into the ground with green goo leaking out either side, until it lay still next to the others... With a satisfied snort the stallion twitched his tail, lifting the spiked ball up off the ground, and plodded on past the flower, his right hind leg hitting a steel-clad hoof onto the flower's remains as the stallion continued on his way through the Everfree.
As he passed, a pair of sharp yellow eyes watched from back in the gloom and the dark of the forest, staring at the rare and mystical herb that now lay crushed into the ground... A low growl sounded as the eyes narrowed with rage...
The Pony-at-Arms continued on, oblivious to the stalker in the dark, darting between trees, watching him with vicious yellow eyes. He trampled through the greenery, through bushes and grasses, over the mushrooms and any errant vegetation that happened to be in his way, marching through the Everfree with all the grace and poise of a ticked off buffalo. Not much further along his path of devastation he stopped, letting the spiked ball thud onto the ground behind him, and peered forward through the gloom. A bright light shone between the trees in the distance, suggesting the forest's end. Cautiously he trotted forward, shifting his armor slightly with a grunt and lifting up his tail once again, moving towards the light.
BATTLE ARENA: EVERFREE GLADE
The stallion blinked for a few moments as he trotted into the light, letting his eyes adjust to the shine as he took in his surroundings. He had happened upon a small glade in the Everfree, a patch where amazingly the tree canopy had not stretched over completely to eat the light, and the sun was able to beam it's full glory down onto the vegetation below. Here in the glade the green grass glistened with dew, and tiny bright white flowers with centers and healthy green stalks were scattered about. It looked peaceful, serene even, a place free from the ever-present gloom of the Everfree.
The Pony-at-Arms snorted in aggravation, and let out a sigh, lowering his head and closing his eyes. Not a way out.
thud-thud-Thud-Thud-THUD-THUD!
His ears twitched and his eyes stepped open at the sound of galloping hooves hitting against the dirt. He lifted his head and waited for all of the span of a second, training and instinct timing it, before throwing his tail left to right in a low-
SWIPE
At the unknown target. The expected thud and tail vibration from an impact never occurred however. Instead, the spiked ball hit nothing but air.
CLANG!
A set of hooves landed on the stallion's back, and as he started to lift his head up and back to impale whatever pony had landed there, a hoof struck his head at the back of the neck, forcing his head down and into the dirt.
WHAM!
The stallion's snout was hit into the grass, causing him to grit his teeth in pain as the unknown figure kept running forward across his back, planting another hoof on his upper-back and then leaping off, the whole scenario playing out in maybe a second or two.
THUD!
Somepony landed in the grass several feet away as the Pony-at-Arms pulled his head up from the grass, shaking it side to side with gritted teeth, and then opened up his eyes to glare across the glade to his attacker... and he saw the mare. An Earth pony mare with a dull-white coat, brilliant yellow eyes, dark green mane, and an expression for which "pissed" was a vast, vast understatement.
The mare was dirty. Not sweaty and harrowed after a long day kind of dirty, but hasn't bathed in weeks and touched soap in ever kind of dirty. Dirt was stuck in matted clumps on her coat, the coat itself hopelessly tangled beyond all hope of a comb and covered with twigs, leaves, and several sticky-brown stains that had once consisted of the internal fluids of ponies. Her mane faired little better, with just as much dirt, twig, leaf, and blood as the coat, perhaps even more, while the tail was just a long overgrown mess of wild hair and dirty tangles. Upon her flank, just seen past the dirt and blood stains, was a Cutie-Mark of a growling bear, brown fur, red eyes, and bared teeth, glaring out at any and everypony who looked it's way.
While she didn't seem to care about hygiene she had certainly taken time to construct her appearance, with savage results... Red war paint had been smeared into her fur, beneath the eyes, and dripping down in three splattered lines on her cheeks. Her nose had been painted over entirely with the red coppery-smelling paint, and a jagged piece of bone had been thrust all the way through the bridge of her nose, in one side and out the other, sharp at both sides. A set of four bones piercings had been thrust through her right ear, sharp tips backward and blunt sides forward. Her left ear was torn half-way off, ripped up near to the tip, leaving only most of the middle and the earlobe.
She wore blood-dyed red pony-hide rags around the knees of each of her hind-legs, covering the legs from above the hoof to just below the flank. More blood-dyed rags were wrapped around the base of her tail. Covering her torso was armor made from the dark brown bark of Everfree trees. Wrapped around the wooden armor were thin light-green vines with bones in their knots, pieces of ribs and teeth held to the wood, as well as occasional tufts of fur, or a rotted scrap of skin. On the back, with several vines crossing over it to hold it tight, was a horned pony-skull, missing the lower jaw and with no eyes in the sockets, giving a hint as to what the bones, fur, and skin, might be from...
And then added on, as if she had decided that wearing the bones of dead ponies was still too tame an outfit to make her point, the blood-stained dark-pink coat of a skinned pony was wrapped around the mare's upper-torso, covering her neck front and back like a scarf. Thick green thorn-covered vines looked like they'd grown all down her forelegs, sharp long thorns sticking out with dark-brown sticky stains upon them, the signs of many enemies shredded and cut. There didn't look to be any of her blood on her forelegs, and if the thorns pierced her to she didn't show it.
No all she showed was a deep omnipresent rage, pouring out of every fiber of her being towards the pony in front of her. Her sharp yellow orbs were narrowed into a death glare, red veins in the whites of her eyes. She growled low before opening her mouth, showing her sharp yellow teeth, filed to points, and stained fresh with red. Tufts of white rabbit fur were caught between the teeth, and as she opened her mouth, her tongue moved to snatch up some of the fur and slide it back into her throat, revealing a bone stud, dulled at the top and sharp at the bottom, stuck through her tongue...
COMBATANT TWO: Nature's Fury Wildling Pony: Everfree Tribal Warrior
ADVANTAGES:
Battle-fueled berserker rage.
At home fighting in the harsh environment of the Everfree.
Fast and dexterous.
DISADVANTAGES:
Poor equipment.
Lack of formal training.
Rage prevents rational decision making.
MAIN WEAPON:
Thorn-sheathes on forelegs.
The savage from the deepest darkest reaches of the Everfree looked upon the stallion with murder in her gaze. Her hooves were spread out in the grass, head lowered near to the ground, teeth bared, throating growling, and ears down close to her head. There could be little mistake as to what her intentions were... She was here for a fight.
The soldier of changing times let out a huff of aggravation, an angry glint in his eyes. Then straightened himself up, rolling his shoulders and shifting the plates on his back into a more comfortable position. He cracked his neck side to side, took a deep breathe, let it out heavily, and then lowered his head to point the blade towards her. His tail brought the spiked ball up off the ground, errant leaves of wet grass stuck to the metal, his right forehoof pawing at the ground in front of him. He was happy to give her one.
FIGHT!!!
The Wildling and the Pony-at-Arms both charged forward, hooves hitting the ground as they barreled straight at one another. The Pony-at-Arms simply lowered his neck as he charged, pointing his blade blade forward towards the stampeding mare rushing at him. As they neared one another, he dug his right forehoof into the dirt, getting his stance form as he THRUST forward with his body and blade towards the charging mare...
Only for the Wildling to dodge at the last second, leaping forward and to the left, blade barely missing her as she passed through the air. She tilted her body mid-leap and landed on her hind legs, sliding slightly from the momentum as she bent her legs to help absorb the impact. She didn't even wait for her body to come to a stop as she twisted her body back, pulling her right-forehoof back with her body, coiling up... and then uncoiling as she kicked off of her hind legs and sprung forward with the oncoming punch.
WHAM!
The flat of her forehoof impacted into his right cheek. Fortunately for the Pony-at-Arms there were no thorns on the flat part of her hoof. But the pure kinetic force of the impact against his exposed flesh was enough to knock him off of his hooves, and lay him out on his side. His head smacked against the ground as his body hit the grass with a-
THUD!
Armor clanking and joints squeaking slightly from the sudden shift in position. His mouth opened to spurt out blood, along with cracked and broken teeth, spewing out across the grass, coloring the green with red. His cheek was also reddening and one could already tell that it would swell up into a vicious bruise. Tears leaked from his eyes as he closed them tight, trying to fight past the pounding pain erupting in his head. The Wildling, grinning a vicious smile in triumph, immediately stepped forward on her hind legs once more, bringing her left forehoof up and slamming it down onto his neck.
SNAP!
The impact of the Wildling's forehoof struck the scale-mail, and the tips of the deadly sharp thorns cracked and shattered against the scale. The shock from the blow was mostly absorbed by the metal, but it had enough force behind it to cause some pain. The Pony-at-Arm's eyes shot open, pain, anger, and fear for his life all helping the adrenaline in his system to rush through, coursing through his blood and dulling the pain in his head.
The Wildling growled, angry at the failure of her blow, and raised her right forehoof up to pound down onto the stallion's face this time.
SWISH!
The stallion's tail swooped beneath the Wildling, dragging the ball through the grass, cutting it up as the firm braided tail knocked her off her hooves. The Wildling fell to her back, eyes wide with surprise mixing into her rage. She quickly rolled backwards over the grass and tail, onto her stomach. She shot up to her legs as the Pony-at-Arms shakily got back up to his hooves, turning his back to the Wildling as he spat out globs of blood onto the grass.
Enraged at the denial of her kill, the mare started to charge forward when the spiked ball-
SWISH!
-ed again, arching from left to right through the air, causing her to break off and leap back to avoid the metal death ball. She landed on her hooves once more, eyes narrowed with rage, growling with frustration. The Pony-at-Arms ears twitched, and he turned his gaze back to look over his left shoulder, presenting the mare his undamaged cheek. His left eye was narrowed, focused, angry, as he gritted his bloody, partially missing teeth.
He began to step back, swishing his tail back and forth, the Wildling dodging back as he continued his backwards advance. With narrowed eyes she growled, red in her vision and rage in her heart. The smell of his blood was fresh on the wind and she wanted to spill more of it!
As she dodged back again, and again, from the spiked-ball cutting through the air, blowing back her mane with the force of the pony's swings, her eyes fell on the stallion's hind legs. Unarmored save for the steel-clad hooves. A glance down to her right forehoof, still with it's full assortment of poisoned thorns brought a sharp-toothed grin to her face. And then she dodged back, just barely in time, bringing her eyes back up to watch the tail...
Even as the Wildling Pony was glancing at him however, the stallion was watching her. Noting the movement of her eyes even as she kept avoiding his swings. With a gleam of inspiration in his eye, he brought his tail up, raising the spiked ball and exposing his hind legs.
The Wildling Pony darted forward, just as expected, and he quickly twitched his tail to bring the mace-ball slamming down.
WHAM!
The grass shredded and ground cracked beneath the impact of the spiked ball. Absent one Wildling Pony. With a triumphant grin she had performed a small leap to the side, knees bent and ready to dash forward as soon as they touched the ground so that she could attack his legs, draw out his blood, and pump delicious poison into his system. But with her focusing on the tail's descent, she hadn't been watching his hind legs.
The Pony-at-Arms had learned from the first time. He had pulled his hind legs back as soon as he brought the ball crashing down. And as the Wildling landed, he watched, pivoted, and shot out his hind hooves. At the last moment the Wildling noted her mistake, the steel-clad killers coming towards her face, raising up to her hind legs to leap and-
BUCK!
CRUNCH!
Cracks spider webbed in the Wildling's wooden armor, forming around two hoof-shaped imprints in the bark. The Wildling who had just barely avoided having her face bashed in went flying through the air from the force of the Pony-at-Arms strike, and struck back against the bark of a tree on the edge of the glade with another-
CRACK!
Sounding, as the pony skull on her back shattered from the impact, falling to pieces as her own skull whiplashed back against the bark of the tree. She slid down the front of the tree, the thin vines that had been holding the skull now loose, catching onto a large knot in the wood a few feet up as she continued her downward slide. Blood painted the bark as she slid to a slump at the base of the tree, the vines unwinding on the descent with several little bones and charms still tied into them, almost taut up to a now tightened loop around the knot.
The Wildling lay slumped, with her eyes closed, hind-legs out below her and forehooves by her sides. Her own blood was streaked behind her and bits of dead pony hung up above her on the vine. The gash in the back of her head was severe, open, showing bone... And despite this it stopped bleeding. Inexplicably it began to close, tiny little strands and tendrils of thin red moving across the skull, from both sides of the flesh, wrapping around each other, and pulling the flesh closed. These strange strands began to sew up the gash, like a needle and thread stitching a cloth patch. The strange magic of the Everfree,was healing it's brutal servant...
With a groan the Wildling shook her head. She opened her eyes and began to blink them rapidly, banishing the fog from her vision, but not the glorious red haze of battle. She gritted her teeth and growled, the pain shooting through her system and making her want to rip something apart. She raised her head, eyes searching for her enemy... And saw him charging straight at her, triumphant gleam in his eyes, head lowered with glinting helmet-blade ready to impale.
Had the Pony-at-Arms been faster then the Wildling's life would have ended there. Fortunately for her, the servants of industry had long valued power over speed. Even at full charge he wasn't able to cover the distance before the mare could react. Gritting her teeth, the Wildling swung her forehooves up to catch the vine hanging from the knot. With an adrenaline and rage fueled effort she flipped herself up, hanging onto the vine, just as the Pony-at-Arms struck the spot she'd just been laying against.
THUNK!
The blade protrusion from the stallion's nose pierced through the bark, and stuck in the wood. Green sap immediately formed around the blade, solidifying, hardening, and trapping the metal. With panic in his eyes, the stallion began pulling on his blade, cursing himself for his haste. The Wildling grinned, a spark in her own orbs as the smell of her blood entered her nostrils, clearing the pain from her mind, allowing her to focus entirely on her prey, trapped and ready for skinning...
She leaned up on the vine and chomped down on it with her sharpened teeth. Gnawing, pulling, and cutting, until the vine broke with a-
SNAP!
A fair portion was left hanging from the knot, the rest fell into the grass to the right of the stallion, and the Wildling fell right onto his back, hind digging into his sides as she looked down at his stuck head with a hungry gleam in her eyes and a grin in her mouth. She leaned forward and wrapped her forehooves around the stallion's neck, pulling tight, trying to choke him out... and ran into the same problem as before. As panicked as the stallion was getting at the pressure on his neck, wiggling his blade this way and that way, backpeddling with his hooves as the sap kept the blade from budging, the Wildling wasn't going to be able to kill him this way any time soon. The scale-mail was too thick for the thorns to pierce, and she couldn't emit enough force through the armor to really choke him.
The Wildling almost roared in frustration! She wanted his blood! She wanted his meat! She wanted his death! And with that train of thought ruling her senses, she leaned up and chomped down hard onto his right ear.
"AAAAGGGHHH!!!"
He shouted, as pain flooded his senses from the sharp bite. And then the Wildling, in one motion, gripped her jaw tight, swung her head back, and ripped his ear off.
GAAAAAAHHHHHAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!
The sound of his scream echoed through the woods. Blood spurted from stump that remained of his ear, and poured down the side of his head, down his strap and chin, dripping down onto the little blue and purple mushrooms that crowded up against the trees. The Wildling grinned with triumph as she chewed, and then gulped down the ear. Bliss etched itself across her face as her eyes fluttered up in her head, her tongue moving over her teeth, licking her lips... Delicious...
CRACK!
"GRAH!"
Fueled by pain and reflex more than conscious effort, the stallion's tail flipped up and slammed down towards his own back, hitting the Wildling's back in the process. The metal spiked ball shattered the back of the Wildling's armor, damage already done and cracks from the back causing the whole thing to fall apart. The pieces of now useless wood fell down the stallion's side, and the Wildling screamed out in pain as the strike not only broke through her armor, but shattered her spine. She rolled off of the Pony-at-Arms, laying at his side as he twitched and pulled and flailed against the tree.
As the regenerative blessings of the Everfree moved to repair the wild warrior's spine, the Pony-at-Arms closed his eyes, and began to take deep shuddering breaths. Tears were running down his cheek and he was feeling nauseas as fuck, but he couldn't let that stop him. If that stopped him, he was dead. So he took a deep breathe, and stayed for a moment, with his eyes closed... Before shakily, bringing forehooves up to the leather strap beneath his chin, and standing beginning to fiddle with the strap.
Even as the shattered bones in the Wildling's spine began to move into functional positions, and on shaking legs she began to rise, the Pony-at-Arms undid the strap. His forehooves, the right bloody from his crimson ear-drip, let the strap fall as he ducked down and backed away, out from under the helmet and it's stuck blade. His short dark-brown mane, buzz-cut with a light-brown stripe running through it at the left side, could finally be seen. Alongside the massive swollen bruising on the right side of his face and the bloody stump of an ear. As he opened his mouth to pant, perspiration covering his coat, blood pooled out mixed in with his drool, falling onto the mushrooms below, mixing with both his and the Wildling's blood, the stink of blood and sweat in the air...
The Wildling's hooves were splayed out beneath her as she fought to keep her balance. The red in her eyes was overpowering, pain pounded in her skull, and her spine creaked and groaned as the strange tribal magic of her Everfree tribe struggled to get it repaired fully. The Pony-at-Arms, not blessed with such a thing as a healing factor, turned his gaze to the mare... and for a second they met each other's eyes, and shared a look of pure, mutual, unfiltered hatred for one another.
The Wildling growled and began to stagger towards the stallion, fighting through the pain of every step. His response was simple. He turned, staggering slightly from disorientation, closed his eyes, brought his hind legs in, and then snapped them back.
CRACK!
The now unguarded rib-cage of the Wildling was shattered by the impact of the stallion's steel-covered hooves. She flew back through the air, landing on her back with a thud, the bones breaking apart in her spine again, internal strands unraveling. She rolled onto her stomach in the grass, coughing up blood, red glistening on the blades of the glade as she tried to stagger up to her hooves. But the damage to her body was too much, too scattered, and the magic was working double-time to deal with two lethal wounds, and the remnants of one major one. She fell back down to her stomach, even the energy of the battle-rage not enough to get her body to fight through the pain.
The Pony-at-Arms, his eyes narrowed and harsh, staggered towards the Wildling. He was slow, stopping several times and closing his eyes, fighting back the urge to vomit from the vertigo he was experiencing. But he kept coming... and as slow as he moved, the Wildling's body still couldn't find the energy to repair itself in time. She tried, again and again to get to her hooves, and each time it only hurt her more. By the time that the stallion reached her, for the first time since the fight had begun, there were actual tears in her eyes, falling down her cheeks.
She looked up at him, trying to get to her hooves, hatred in her blurry unfocused eyes. The Pony-at-Arms looked down at her with nothing but hatred and contempt. The Pony-at-Arms slowly turned, staggering once but righting himself quickly, before coming to a stop with his back facing towards the broken Wildling. He turned his gaze over his left shoulder to look to her, and actually had to alter body position slightly to be able to look her in the eyes. When he had her gaze met, his eyes locked upon hers, he lifted his tail up, bringing the spiked mace high up into the air.
He gritted his teeth, breathing hard for a moment, and then from his bloody mouth with missing teeth, made a single proclamation.
"We... are... EQUESTRIA!" He shouted, and then brought the mace whipping down onto the Wildling's head.
SPLAT!
The skull broke into little pieces and the brain was crushed beneath the tail. The displacement of bone, brain, and blood, tore through tissue and shot out of the Wildling's orifices, painting the grass with red, grey, and scattered bits of white. Her legs twitched limply as the muscle spasms rocked the body for a few moments, before they went still... And all that was left of the savage berserker was a stain on the grass.
The Pony-at-Arms lifted his tail, mace dripping blood as well as bits of brain and bone, as he slowly turned around to face his deceased opponent. Breathing heavily, looking down at her shattered corpse, he pursed his lips, and spat down onto her. Blood, bile, and another tooth that had come loose in his gums hit the Cutie-Mark of the crushed servant of the Wild... The stallion looked down for a few more moments, breathing heavily, and then turned and began to stagger away. Wincing, stumbling, stopping on occasion to fight the nausea, then slowly walking on, back into the forest, and away from his opponent, reduced to food for scavengers, and fertilizer for the red-coated grasses...
VICTOR: COMBATANT 1: PONY-AT-ARMS!!!
EPILOGUE:
The name of the victor was Fertile Soil. Master-Sergeant in the Earthborn military, outfitted to be one of the rank and file, a Pony-at-Arms. He had been separated from his patrol by the tricks of Everfree ambushers, and was one of the only ponies to escape that ambush. As fortune would have it, he was discovered by a force of Earthborn soldiers sent out to look for survivors. His screams of pain had brought them near to the area, and through a mixture of good fortune, and being noisy, they managed to find each other.
He was taken to a temporary Earthborn camp on the edge of the Everfree, and from there evacuated to New Ponyville. There he was given professional treatment for his wounds, and while his ear was lost and his hearing would never again include anything to his right, he made an otherwise full recovery. Physical conditioning helped him overcome his hearing loss, and soon enough he was ready to work once more.
Unfortunately he was no longer fit for active duty. The removal of his ear insured that, and qualified him for an honorable discharge, that actually included a not unkind amount of bits. However by his request he was retained in the Earthborn military on a reserve roster. He was then offered a position as a drill-instructor at an Earthborn training facility in Appleloosa, along with a commissioned officer rank approved by Supreme Commander Applejack herself, both of which he accepted.
Better pay, better conditions, and he got to serve Earthborn by making sure the next generation of soldiers had what it took to stay alive out against the enemies of the House, and also kill said enemies while they were at it. And in the officer's club, or in the barracks, by his mouth or another's, the story of his victory over the Wildling was told, giving the soldiers of the Earthborn hope against the savage warriors of Nature's Fury, and proving that their industrial might could conquer even the ageless savagery of the Everfree...
MY BATTLE ANALYSIS
On The Wildling Pony:
The Wildling was a very awesome disappointment for me. I started this with the Wildling in mind, before I ever thought about the potential combatant, because I think their idea and design is just so cool. I mean you've got a tribal savage pony, adorned with fetishes, tribal war paint, and who knows what else, with thorns wrapped around their forelegs. THORNS! That's not only cool that's downright terrifying! Can you think of how PAINFUL that would be, thorns, especially poisoned, raking across your skin, getting caught in your wounds, toxins leaking into your veins? ... Ahem. However, taking away the coolness factor and examining the Wildling from a combat perspective shows them to have an unfortunately poor combat load-out and survival chances. Not only for their chances against this unit, but most other professional basic units in the game. Here's why.
First the equipment. One of the Everfree's weak points is their equipment, and that comes through rather strong in the Wildling Pony. They have thorns for weapons, which as cool as they are, aren't going to pierce through steel, or even leather armor. They'll break and catch in things, which as painful and effective as it is, especially if they've got poison on them, is only going to be useful when the other pony is wearing little to no armor, relying heavily on hitting at the right place at the right time. All in all, a very inefficient weapon.
Then there's their armor. It's not explicitly stated and line-art only makes it difficult at best to get a grasp of color, however it looked like wood to me, and since that would fit with the Everfree theme that's what I chose to present it as. Even if it was leather or something different, it definitely wasn't metal. I can allow for wooden armor to afford some protection, even a certain degree against piercing possibly, however certainly not much, and not thin enough to the point that the pony wearing it would be expected to still act with high agility and speed, not to mention the part where it only covers the upper torso.
In short, not well armed, and not well armored. However we knew that their equipment was going to be poor from the get-go. The strength of the Everfree is in a mixture of regeneration, hit and run tactics, savage brutality, and speed. And this Wildling, by canon, lacks one of those very important strengths.
In the description, the following phrases are associated with the Wildling Ponies. "Ferocious and unpredictable" "lack of discipline" "bloodthirsty berserkers" "throw themselves right into enemy formations". In short, mindless murder machines. No hit and run, no intelligent decision making, just rage and power. Now a Warband leader could potentially get them to overcome the flaws of their mindset I imagine, use them properly and make them play smart. But this is a lone unit without instruction. And apparently the only thing it knows how to do is throw itself into the fray no holds barred.
So it's fighting style boils down to quickly engage in the enemy, and keep hitting until they're dead. And as only their forehooves are covered with thorns, it makes more sense that they'd focus on attacks with said forehooves, which given the nature of that weapon would result likely in standing on the hind legs to maximize punches and strikes from the forehooevs. Which would make them more of a target while they're trying to pummel their enemy. Simple, brutal... and ultimately not very effective.
It also doesn't help that their fighting style invalidates one of the most powerful [powers a Wildling can have. REGENERATION. The Wildling is poorly armed and armored, and throwing itself headlong into the fray. It IS GOING TO GET HURT. Now with regeneration it could potentially retreat, heal it's wounds, and leave the enemy staggering from theirs, before darting back out of the forest and ripping them to shreds. But a Wildling won't do that. They're working up a blood rage, they're reckless and filled with the anger of the Everfree, so all they're going to do is attack and attack and attack again. So even as their wounds are regenerating, they're stacking up new ones, and eventually their body is going to give out, and they'll die.
So useful sacrifice warriors? Possibly if they've got poison, after all to the leader of a Warband it might be more important to kill their enemy than keep the Wildling's alive. But if you're talking one on one duel, that's terrible. You're relying on the Wildling being able to kill the enemy before the enemy kills them... and they're just not equipped for that. Little armor, poor piercing weaponry, and a bloodthirsty rage that will prevent effective rational thought or tactical planning. The one really useful advantage left to them is their speed, and they're going to use that mainly to just get there faster and try to hit the opponent. Again, sacrifice warrior.
Now I'm not saying they're weak. They are VERY dangerous and should not be taken lightly! Especially if you're NOT a well armored soldier with fighting experience. And they're likely stronger and more powerful than most ponies. Between all the savage rituals, Everfree blessings, and alchemical concoctions they may be subject to, I imagine that their physical form is seriously amped up on a mixture of mystic mumbjo jumbo, and natural home-grown tribal narcotics. However hit a hoof against steel, and you're still hitting a hoof against steel. Your hoof's more likely to break than the steel, so once again the greatest advantages from their savage strength will be based on being able to hit the right places.
All in all, they were weaker on their own than I expected. As strong as they are, as deadly as they are, they don't take advantage of their regeneration, and rely heavily on hitting the right place rather than using the right weapon. And considering that they're in a battle-rage and just pursuing the enemy's destruction with emotional power rather than thought, they're going to have a hard time figuring out what the right place to hit is. They have to work harder to kill their enemy and stay alive, than a lot of the professional, comparatively unimpressive soldiers will. So as awesome as they are, they are unfortunately less awesome than I originally anticipated.
On The Pony-at-Arms:
Now this was interesting. At first it was pretty standard, line infantry, fights in a group, well-armored, basic. However then I realized something. The Pony-at-Arms is equipped with three weapons. A blade on the helmet, steel-clad hind legs, and a spiked mace tail. Only one of those can easily reach the front. Two of them reach their maximum damage potential behind the pony. That means that means that the majority of his weapons, including the most intimidating one I might add, is designed with him having his enemy behind him in mind. Well what commander would have a regiment of ponies not using their most impressive weapons against the enemy? Pretty much none. So, in short, the group fighting that the Ponies-at-Arms employ seem to be based around TURNING THEIR BACK TO THE ENEMY. ... ... ... Does that strike anypony else as strange?
This little realization prompted me to think more on the supposedly basic Ponies-at-Arms, and I'm glad I did. Now starting with why they might have to employ such tactics in the first place...
Earth Ponies melee capacity is more limited than that of the unicorns or even Pegasi, so they would have to make use of every part of their body that they could. And what appears to be the most powerful parts of their bodies, are their hind legs, and surprisingly strong tails. Applejack's use of the tail and hind-legs, for activities such as apple-bucking and lassoing, comes to mind. So the Ponies-at-Arms were trying to maximize their attack against an enemy, fair enough. But having to turn around to do it puts them at a major disadvantage when going on the defensive, so how did they compensate for that? Voila, the group-combat of the Pony-at-Arms begins to make more sense.
The Ponies-at-Arms are very well armored, however not equipped with other defensive measures. No shields or bucklers on the ends of their hooves, nothing to put in front of their allies and guard them in a group format, which is what I expect when I think of a unified legion, using equipment that allows the group to protect each other while killing the enemy. But they don't do that. They can't do that. They're turned around to use their most powerful weapons, they're fighting blind. So they need somepony else to do that. Officers, commanders, ponies to tell them what to do and when. And the only trick they have is attacking the enemy, because they can't defend each other with any kind of effectiveness. So the whole Pony-at-Arms legion defensive strategy, boils down to wear armor, and hit at the right time... Wait for instruction, and attack. So the group fighting isn't so that the protect each other... it's so that they have enough overwhelming force to kill the enemy before the enemy starts killing them. So the entire Pony-at-Arms defense... is offense.
I'm not sure if I should be blown away, or ashamed, that it took me that long to figure out the Pony-at-Arms wasn't meant to defend things, despite how sturdily built and armored they are. But it was a big reveal to what their combat tactics would have to be, and made me appreciate the interesting nature of the Earthborn military structure more than I had. However, that begs a question... if the Pony-at-Arms is taught to wait for group instruction, to listen for the commander shout to have at it, to trust his eyes to another watcher, then what's he going to do on his own? ... Panic.
Not the fearful kind though. He's a heavy armored killing machine, he's probably got a lot of confidence in his weapons and body. However when taken out of your element, you behave a bit rashly, make mistakes, get over-excited. You're forced to make decisions on your own, and when you're not used to doing that those decisions can be total train-wrecks. One that they're likely to default to though is offense. The Pony-at-Arms is not taught to defend because they're not equipped to do so, so they're taught to attack. He'll try to imitate what he knows best, the standard fighting style, and when that doesn't work he'll improvise. However the improvisation's still going to be offensive, because that's all he really has to fall back on. The steadfast and sturdy soldier's, going to try his hoof at being a berserker with some formal training kicking in.
Not that that's bad for him. He's sturdy, well-built, has staying power, powerful weapons, and is armored very thoroughly. Steel covers the most vital areas, head and torso, and scale-mail covers most of the rest of the vital points on the body, even the neck, likely because they knew that they wouldn't be teaching them how to defend themselves, so they'd have to rely on their armor to do it for them. This results in a pony that, despite how sloppy it's going to be when compared to the formal combat of the group, is actually pretty well equipped to go on full offense. Hard to kill and does a lot of damage... worse have gone nuts and just charged like crazy..
In short, without guidance and all alone, the Pony-at-Arms becomes kind of an amateur. But with a rocking bod, heavy armor, vicious weapons, and enough rote training to provide surprise flashes of competence. Not what I was expecting when I started looking at him, however I'm oh so glad I did.
TACTICAL CONCLUSION:
I wound up with two entirely offensive forces going at it. Neither pony knew how to defend. The Wildling knew how to dodge, however that was really about getting in another attack to a vulnerable area. The Pony-at-Arms had to turn his back for his most effective attacks (that's always going to make me smile). It was two trains running at each other full-speed ahead. And the steam powered metal behemoth beat the scary-looking train made with wood and paint.
The Pony-at-Arms was the clear winner in my opinion by the time I got to the end. If the Wildling knew how to hit and run it would've been different, but in a straight-up one-on-one fight, the Pony-at-Arms has better durability, good armor, dangerous weapons, and despite his nerves is rational enough to form tactics and come up with logical solutions. When it boils down to it, the Wildling just had to work a LOT harder to kill the Pony-at-Arms than the Pony-at-Arms had to work to kill the Wildling. So this match goes to House Earthborn, and the Pony-at-Arms.