I would describe how war never changes, but you’ve already heard that story. While it is the same in some cases, and only the minor things change. The people, the reasons, the weapons.
My name is Dust. Nothing more, nothing less. Just Dust. I am part of the New Canterlot Republic, a Stallion ranger at that. This is my story; about how sometimes war is what you must go through to stop another. The story of 6 ponies that stopped what had been going on for so long. While it is not a happy story, it is one that will hopefully open your eyes.
If you aren’t familiar with the story of the barren wasteland of Equestria, here it is. After a brutal war between who-ever it was, they dropped some powerful spells on the whole world. It caused massive destruction, and those who weren’t lucky enough to get inside some Stables, you were left to the hell that was the aftermath of the mega spells. Mutations, death, violence, and all out destruction. While the Stables were shrouded from the hell outside, ponies like me had to deal with killing from a very young age.
Drooping dragons, Mutated ponies, Raiders, mole rats, bloat sprites, and many other things. I killed my first pony at the age of 15. Before then, my family and I were farmers, happy, and content. We had made a living off of supplying the New Canterlot Republic with apples and such. Even though my cutie mark was a Star with a knife through the middle, but we all got weird cutie marks nowadays. It was almost like a normal life, if there was even such a thing. I never had any problems, except from having to blow the occasional bloat sprite out of the air.
I had a happy life, as well. If you were thinking of a dark backstory from a guy who makes a living off of killing ponies, think again. The only dark thing that has ever happened to me was the death of my parents, but that was life. Killing raiders was my thing, I guess. It wasn’t a very fun job, but it was necessary to make sure the wasteland was safe. While raiders strayed away from the bigger towns, places like ever free outpost and the crossroad plantation were always under attack. While things like the Steel Ponies and the New Canterlot Republic had joined together, factions like Chrysalis’ legion were always trying to take whole command the whole wasteland.
Things had been going on a downhill slope since the legion popped up. There were murders, raids, and robberies across the wasteland. About at this point, I had joined the NCR (New Canterlot Republic). When I joined, I was considered cannon fodder, thrown into battle to be killed, so the elitist’s could come in and clean up after the enemy had run out of ammunition. I wasn’t down with that, so, instead of being killed, I did the exact opposite. I saved half of my platoon by using my wits and what little magic I had learned over the years to completely destroy the enemy, a group of Powder-Ponies. After that, I had been put in the special operations, and then The Stallion Rangers. I had a body count of well over 300, and I was viewed as a god by many of the soldiers on the field. But this whole time, I was completely alone.
Well, not completely. I had mare-friends here and there, but in the end, I was always re-stationed.
Finally, when a good mare stepped into my life, Snow Flake, I finally took the thought of commitment seriously. I took a couple months off, and tried to have a normal life. A family.
Then, finally, when the time came, we had a child.
Sadly, both Snow Flake and the baby died in child birth.
Afterwards, I tried my shot at redemption. I took command of my squad, and tried to be the best leader of them all.
To no avail, though.
After our second mission together, I had gotten my squad massacred by a bunch of Legionnaires. I was left burned and bloody in the harsh desert, until a NCR patrol saved my life. After that little run in with fate, I turned to drugs, and alcohol. I spent what bottle caps I earned at the local watering hole, until I just had to face the facts.
I was depressed, useless. In fact, I had tried to kill myself on many occasions, but I guess that was just heavens way of saying they aren’t ready for me yet. That’s where we start. My latest attempt of suicide had left me bleeding in the middle of a sandstorm, lying next to what used to be a portal transporter.