//------------------------------//
// Chapter 8: Flight of the Fallen 
// Story: A Bronzed Moon 
// by Eric Longtooth 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 8: Flight of the Fallen
By Eric Longtooth


“Prey hated hope. It was a vice of the weak, a poison far more addictive than salt or any other drug. It built you up with no foundation, promising beautiful things you could never reach, and then brought you crashing down into the depths of despair.” -  Lambs Prey, Prey and a Lamb


~`^v>|<{ Princess Luna }>|<v^`~


Is it better to live within a story? Or be faced with cruel reality? 

Within stories and tales, the deaths of another take time, they are drawn out, and given a dramatic flair. Be it for the most hated of foes, or the bestest of friends.

Reality however, is much harsher. 

One isn’t given time to register death in the heat of combat, thoughts cannot be spared to acknowledge the death of the one you hate the most. Joy cannot be spared, nor can anger at those that took what is rightfully yours. 

There was little left of the changeling Matriarch, as the plasma had reduced even her bones to slag and ash. Infact, the only thing that remained was her horn, a horn that swiftly fell through the cracks in the floor.

It didn’t matter though, there were bigger, angrier, problems to deal with.

“Unit online, primary core disabled, factory standard reinstated.” The beast called in a booming, emotionless tone. For once, speaking in an understandable Equish. “Target found, combat modules launched. Engaging.”

Another blast of blue-red death launched from its guns, narrowly missing the princess as she dropped into a roll. 

‘There art no point fighting this thing… a single hit would end us... ’ The princess mentally commented as she took off down the hallway. ‘The runes in our armor should have captured a picture of the map, we’ll just need a moment to retrieve it… there!’

The memory flooded into her mind and in a second or so, she had gathered a heading. 

Now she just needed to make it there without getting killed.

“CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!” 

Projectiles launched from a previously concealed weapon on the underside of the monster’s hull, with five of its six barrels bent out of shape, or missing entirely, it shook dangerously with each round, launching them in odd and unpredictable angles.

“VRAAAM!”

A narrow turn down a side passage kept her head from being taken off, leaving the blast to rip a hole through a wall and further into the stone. 

Blood pounded in her ears as the princess forced herself to breathe evenly, her muscles burned with lactic acids as she remembered fondly when her armor had given a barrier from overexertion. 

She didn’t even remember exactly when the enchantments had run dry.

‘Wait, did we not just use some of the enchantments? If the armor hast run dry, none should be wor-’ “Gah!” 

Pain blossomed in the tender flesh of her neck as one of the stray bullets found a gap between the plates. It was nearly enough to cause her to stumble as the metal exited the front of her neck, only to ricochet upon the internals of her armor and launch itself into her breast. 

Blood began to spill into her lungs as her innate alicorn magic desperately expended itself to replace the need for air. 

A useful, but not very efficient endeavor.

And yet, she still ran.

“VRAAAM!”

Another blast sailed over her head and burnt a nearly ten meter gash into the roof. Fragments of concrete, dirt, and metal dirtied her already soiled mane as her hooves pounded and rocketed her through the hallway.

Lupus non timet canem latrantem...

‘Now is not the time!’ The lunar alicorn hissed, narrowly dodging another blast of crackling plasma.

Aeternam iram; iram frigus… sine fine somnum exterreri solebat…

‘We are not Her! Thy meddling is for naught!’ A small swarm of bonepickers descend from one of the side hallways, falling over each other in their efforts to catch her. ‘Just a few more turns… we art nearly there…’ 

“Firing solution logged, error removed, warming… fire.” 

“VRAAAM!”

At the sound of the cannon firing, Luna gave her wings a quick lurch in an attempt to dislodge a bonepicker gnawing on her leg. A convenient twist of fate, as the magic-assisted jump allowed for a well-timed dodge, as the plasma turned the swarm of spider-droids into slag. 

It seems, luck is content to play with the pony princess for a little longer.


Oo0oO(+The Factory+)Oo0oO




Target has reached border checkpoint, ETA five minutes to exit.

Insufficient forces deployed, Arch-Magos Pattern unit has been deemed inefficient against Alicorn targets.





> Prompt
|- Iron production exceeding storage capability.
|- Crude Oil overload.
|- Petroleum Deficit detected.





Delta class core set: Prompt #24786377-242AZ

Deploying Ruststalkers to secto-



> Overridden.

> Initiate Primary Core detachment.
|- I have a job to do.



Confirmed.

Primary core detaching, Alpha and Beta class issues are paused. Awaiting Primary Core oversight.

Booting backup Delta cores to maintain processing power…

Booted.





> Prompt 
|- Production block {Basic Circuits}[ID: 347] Damaged. 
| |- 76% Remaining
|- Unit loss {Scarabs}[x15] 





Confirmed.

Warehouses pinged, delay 13.226ms, units on route…




~`^v>|<{ Princess Luna }>|<v^`~


Citius, fortius … et esurimus…

She had lost sight of the monster a few turns ago, and had stopped feeling the sting of its guns a few before that. But she couldn’t stop, she was so close to escape. To freedom.

Mox…

Coming here was a horrible, horrible idea. Celestia had tried to tell her, she tried to warn her. But she insisted, she promised results with such conviction she fooled even herself. She brought together the scattered remains of her loyal followers and sent them to the slaughter.

Sanguis…

She refused the conscripts, oh so confident that all they would do is slow her down. Perhaps that was the only thing she had done right… if she had brought them, there would have just been more targets for this damnable place.

Gloria…

Once she escaped… she honestly didn’t know what would happen.

et sanguinem gloria...

The lines between her mind and her mi- her namesake’s mind, had blurred and thinned to fraying string. Once her mission faded… who knows what would happen.

sine fine sanguine, gloria mirabilem praedicamus.

Even now it scraped at the door of its cage, wishing for freedom to bathe the world in death and cold. Why it wishes for such a thing, she doesn’t know. In fact, from her… limited conversation on the topic with her solar counterpart, the Sun was much the same, but instead wishing for fire and heat, instead of cold.

libertas!

But in the end, instinctively, she knew it would only bring bad things. Even the Nightmare wasn’t foolish enough to call upon its power.

in fine temporum venit 

Perhaps it would replace her? 

Tenebris!

Or perhaps, they would become one?

“Et lux lunae est retrorsum ut occidere!”