//------------------------------//
// SS6: Introduction of Omni 
// Story: Fallout Equestria: An Eternity to Rebuild 
// by Fillyosopher 
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When the war first started, Queen Chrysalis knew within hours. The changeling spy network had spies on both sides, of course. We'd heard of the tensions over coal and gems, the hunger of both empires for their favored resource. In fact, a changeling had been directly involved drafting in the first trade agreement. The loosened borders agreement allowed us better access into zebra lands, and we spent the next 10 years studying them.

But after the Massacre at Littlehoof, things started to go down hill. The casualties on both side spread grief throughout the kingdom of Equestria. The zebra side fared worse, their massive losses leading them to construct greater machinations to make up for lost soldiers. But sides focused their gaze more totally on the annihilation of their enemy. Hate and mourning reigned supreme.

Those were bad times for the changeling race. The love which we needed to live off became more and more scarce. We were still having trouble feeding from zebra and soon our spies abroad were forced to return. The Queen looked into other options. Surely there was a source of love somewhere. But of those few places unaffected by the war, all were populated by races outside our ability to emulate. It would take generations of breeding to become compatible, but we didn't have the time.

Bereft of other options, our Queen reduced the size of the swarm. When shortages continued, she called in the only contact she had left, a past enemy who just might have the heart to help the dying race.

The meeting between Queen Chrysalis and Princess Celestia was carried out in the utmost secrecy. By this point in the war, Luna held the throne, but Celestia's knowledge of the workings of the new government was significant. Somehow, a pact was formed. Changelings were given secret positions in the Ministries of Peace and Moral.

In the ministry of Peace, they took the form of loved ones to comfort patients. Their love was enough to sustain the agents, and in turn others in the swarm. Of course, the agents were closely monitored by the ponies. Authorization was not given without long deliberation. Any changeling caught in an unplanned visit was sent back, and soon the Queen had to rein in her subjects before they broke all trust.

In the ministry of Moral, changeling agent were given two taskes. Some were charged with infiltration of suspect groups. Here, our previous skill as spies was put to best use, and soon Pinkie Pie herself commanded the most elite group. Our other command was to replace ponies secretly in custody. While both were chellenging, enjoyable work, neither provided the level of love which the swarm required.

The swarm continued to shrink. The Queen was desperate, but there simply wasn't enough left in a wartorn world to support our race. Our numbers dropped to ten thousand, then five thousand. The end of our race looked near.

The Queen, in a last attempt, laid eggs for one hundred new queen. Such a thing was not done. Normally, even a dying queen would lay only five, to let them struggle for dominance. In this way the race was made stronger. But the hundred eggs were laid, each covered in a thick web and the queen-to-be put into a deep sleep. The eggs were given to the remains of our spies and spread throughout the lands of Equestria and zebra-kind.

With love, the eggs would open and the new Queens emerge. Until then, each egg would sleep for centuries, a millennium if necessary, as long as it took for ponies and zebras to reestablish themselves. Then the Queen prepared to fight us to fight to the last one, hoping to scratch a out a survival.

The bombs fell. The ponies disappeared into their stables, the zebra retreated back into their land. A very few changeling made it into Stables under false identities, but it was obvious that the lifeweb which bound us together would soon fail.

It was then that Queen Chrysalis realized her mistake. The swarm was built around her, its purpose to do her wish. The swarm of the Changeling had always been centered on a Queen, just as our lifeweb was centered in her being. Without her, the current swarm would die; but the eggs had been laid to make future swarms. This constant matriarchy had caused her to forget one thing... even a Queen needs mates.

With hours left to live, the Queen performed her final spell. She took her life and shattered the lifeweb, but by doing breaking it intentionally she achieved what no Queen had before. The males were left alive after the death of their queen. The loss of the lifeweb hurt immensely, and their ability to fed from their fellow in the Stables was lost. But with this abandoning came a new freedom to act independently and to die independently. The Queens last wish echoed in our hearts.

Live on, my sons, as many of you as can. Find the eggs, nurture them, and bring back our race. Do whatever it takes.

-Excerpt from The Verbal History of the Changelings, as recorded at Tenpony Tower one hundred years after the war.


The first 20 years after the war had not been that bad. Yes, the radiation was terrible and you had to stay to the mountains. But for the most part, the Wastes were devoid of the horrors which came later. The radiation monsters and the enervation fields hadn't spread yet. The raiders and psychos weren't really out in force yet. On the whole, the Wastelands was mainly deserted.

Not that deserted was any less deadly to my kind. We spread out, trying not to fight over reasources. A few settled down in the valleys between the old Equestria and zebra lands. The hill folk there still lived and the radiation wasn't bad. I arrived too late to secure myself a spot though. The temptation to fight over the remaining ponies was great, but our Queen's last message was strong. I left the lucky ones to their feast.

Even more attempted to infultrate the Enclave. Many of our previous Ministry of Peace and Moral were able to use their old identities to get through the clouds (although quite a few added wings to their old bodies). Others of us tried to break through the cloud barrear, but less of us were successful there. After seeing a friend struck by lightning, I decided to move on to other prospects.

Eventually I found a small settlement far to the north. The climate was freezing, especially for my race. My wings wouldn't work in the harsh landscape, so I took the for of an earth pony. For twenty years I was hungry, feeding off the edges of the camp's companionship. Finally, however, I had to leave. I could not age my copied body, so I left before suspicion forced me out.

I returned south to find an Equestria regrowing. Regrowing in every way possible to an glowing dirt clod, that is. Rad roaches were everywhere. Rad-rats were the only mammal still around. Plants... nope. An still, the Wasteland was empty of food for my kind.

I traveled south to the mountains, but if any of my kind remained in the Highland population, they did not recognize me. I lived there for ten years, in a small corner house. My cover was as a Stableborn, which turned out to be a mistake. The Highlanders never fully trusted me, in part blaming My Kind (stableborn, not changeling) for the war. Eventually I left there as well, never having made contact with a brother.

I traveled east this time, finding nothing but ruins. This was the center of old Equestria. The mmmmm Forest was darker than ever. The pink cloud still spilled from Canterlot. Manehatten and Fillydelphia were nothing but waste. The farther East I traveled, the worse an idea this looked.

Finally, I realized I could not make it back to the Highlanders. I had spent too much. On my last legs, I searched the landscape below for something and came upon a ghoul settlement. I had no idea wether it would be possible to fedd off them or not, but I had little choice.

A changeling feeding off a ghoul is much like what I assume a pony feels when feeding off a corpse. There's something there to eat, of course; ghouls have bonds just as ponies do. Well, they are ponies, but you get my meaning. But their love is rotten, like they have just been repeating that love for years without any progression. Even their new relationships taste stale. And you can be sure that what you're feeding off is poisoning you somehow.

Those were a bad few months. Every now and then I'd get sick and loss my ability to hold form. I'd have to hide myself for days, starving in the hope that I'd be well enough to feed soon. It was a vicious cycle that I'm sure would have killed me, if not for a newcomer to the camp.

The blossoming new relationships were what originally pulled me out of my illness. The were fresh...er than the others. They were strong enough that I could feed on them without having to leave my one-room. I gathered my strength and one day made it out to meet the stranger.

His name was Eternity and he was unlike anything I'd seen before. The zony wore metal wings which were screwed into his back. His stripes were orange, the product of a thirty year old re-coloration spell favored during the war. He carried himself with dignity and exuded self-confidence. More importantly, he was kind. He went among the ghouls, lending a hoof, giving appreciation and warmth. For me, he was like a twelve course banquet after 30 years of starvation. I nearly puked.

He didn't plan on staying, of course, but neither did I. When he left, I accompanied him. Somewhat against his wishes, I'll admit, but I wasn't about to let him go. His happiness in the face of Wasteland dangers was astonishing. He had some unending inner hope which kept him going.

Eternity and I traveled for thirty years. We battled monsters pony and otherwise. We suffered radiation sickness, enervation, and pink cloud. We looted mines and graves, offices and ministries. And everywhere we met ponies, we worked to make a better world.

I'd told him what I was nine years after we met following a very suspisious breakout. I expected to be rebuffed, but he was more than accepting. We made use of my abilities after that; I'd seen and copied so many ponies by this point that I was practically a library of the Wastes. To often, the ponies whose form I took were dead.

By the end, Eternity was pretty ripped up inside. Despite all the good we were doing, he couldn't deal with all the atrocities we'd had to commit. Massacres to make somewhere safe. Assisted suicides and witnessed rapes. Death haunted his thoughts too much. He thought of himself as a dying breed, one of many who needed to leave the Wasteland so that it could rise above the dark necessities.

He was a optimist. I disagreed with him, sometimes violently. The stables were beginning to open, one by one. Someone needed to lead the new ponies, make sure they didn't repeat the mistakes they'd stayed locked on the other side of the door from. The raiders were subdued, but their ideas would always be present. But he was done with it all, content in what he'd accomplished and hopeful for a world without him.

I'll admit, I loved him. The last twenty years, we had become lovers on occasion, but it was always a 'one time thing'. He had kept me happy and healthy far beyond the longest recorded age for my race (Queens excluded). He had taught me how to return love, how love strengthened when shared rather than drawn from. Eternity had introduced me to a world foreign to changeling kind.

One day, he disappeared. I searched, of course, but Eternity was the best tracker in the wasteland. He his steps, had taken off in the opposite direction from his path, even bathed to hide his smell from my slightly more sensitive nose. I followed his path to the Ocean, but never found him. Perhaps he just kept flying into the beautiful sunrise...

I returned to our camp to break the news to our traveling companions. They were all for continuing his previous mission, but I was done. I wanted to go find death myself, but I could not leave my race abandoned.

For days I wept, until five days after the disappearance, a small robot approached me. I watched with interest as the flying bot traveled the flat, wasted land I sat in, definitely coming for me. That was how I first met Watcher.

“I'm a friend of Eternity's. I've been watching you for almost forty years, from when you first returned to Equestrian lands. I've seen your dedication, and It tares at me to see you hopeless. I have something to show you...”

The little bot opened and released Eternity's note to me.

'My Dear, I have decided to go on, but I do not wish you to stop your quest on account of me. I have a request for you, and two gifts.'
'First, a collection of my memories and a reader. I told you much of my past, but not everything. When you have time, use the reader. I hope you will understand after you've seen my life during the war.'
'Second, a copy of my research notes. My diary, if you prefer. There are sections on our friendship that I think you will find useful.'
'Lastly, I would ask that you not go back to your old ways of feeding on the unwilling. I am dead, yes, but there are many others out there. Find a new partner and nurture a relationship.'
'Celestia's blessings,'
'Eternity'


It was hard, going on. I was aging in mind, if not in body. A certain depression and cynicism grew in me as I watched the Wasteland return in full force. The stable ponies bred, their offspring learning the methods of torture and insanity once again. The settlements we had built slowly crumbled, some by violence and some by neglect. The hope of a new Equestria dried-up.

The new, struggling population was not the only change. New horrors began to emerge, the product of one hundred years of irradiation and breeding. The products of the Ministries' Projects, mutants and metal monsters, established themselves. Unity reared it's head, the Steel Ranger's rebuilt as recruits became available. The hand guns of the past gave way to larger calibers and explosives. Gangs formed and claimed land, raiders became more vicious and brutal. DJ Pon3's broadcast area shrunk to nearly nothing, the other stations died out entirely.

I watched Eternity's memory, finding that I could take sustenance from them. But eventually they were depleted, their recordings gray and empty. I learned much about him, but nothing surprising. An assassination gone wrong had killed a few hundred zebra, due to a mistake on his part. Another incident, twenty dead. Accidentally causing the death of a Stable when he broke out into a poison cloud.

Certainly there had been death on his conscious, but at no point could I okay the bastard's leaving me...

His diary was less interesting in terms of story. What it did contain, the reason he had given it too me no doubt, was extensive notes on the changeling feeding and storage process. It wasn't much, but it gave me idea's. He had proved, for example, that the slow adaptation process carried out by the lifecycle of queens could be accelerated. In fact, it could be carried out by a single individual if giving time. In the margins, was a single note, my name attached. “If you try, you can learn to love anyone.”

By this time, the Day of destruction was ninety years past. It had been eigthy years since I'd last seen another of my kind. The loneliness of the lost lifeweb, so long smothered, was slowly eating at my youth.

It was then that I found a queen egg. Hiding from a Bloodwing, I backed into a cave to catch a whiff of the unique smell. The egg was planted in a wall farther in, its purple casing adhering to the stone. With care, I pulled it down and began a new chapter of my life.

Another thirty years of famine, searching for a place to raise the queen. My mind was filled by my Queen's order; I fed when and where I could, ignoring Eternity's wishes. I sourced the Wasteland twice, from the coast to the Mojave and back, but no where was suitable. The levels of danger were too great for a growing queen, even in the most love filled sites. Finally, out of other choices, I brought the egg to the zombie city of Paradise (far to the northwest of the more commonly known town). There I warmed the egg, broke the web, hatched it.

I still do not know what went wrong. Perhaps thirty years dragged through radiation and enervation had permeated the stasis. Perhaps the zombies lacked the sustaining companionship to feed to newborn queen. Perhaps the previously untested cocoon was not sufficient to hold an egg dormant for that long. Regardless, the queen came forth mutated beyond recognition. Her legs were stunted and bent, her head held too many horns. Her wings were flimsy and bled liquid. I could not kill her, but I refused to raise such a monster. I left the infant near death and fled.

To this day, I wish I had just killed it. I heard, years later, than the entire city had been wiped out by some black monster. I can only assume she grew into maturity, but without a mate couldn't do any more than kill. The area was avoided for years afterward, and too this day I'm not sure of the false queen's fate.

My involvement in Wasteland life was minor after that. I moved from town to town. Years of hunger had reduced my need to eat. I learned how to spend little energy, how to save up enough to move to another city. I ate from the fringes, from acquaintances and the infrequent friend. I wasn't until Flank that I started to remember my life with Eternity.

I came into the town as I did any other: tired of life but unwilling to let go. Flank was fairly standard for the Hoof, a rundown collection of buildings economically centered around a few stores. The drug business was booming, with 5 mobs competing to addict the most ponies for the longest time. It was dangerous to be too involved, but I ended up setting up in Stable 69 (89, technically).

It wasn't great. There isn't a lot of love going around, but there was plenty of happiness. Of the drugged out of your mind variety. Another new flavor, the aura of excess tastes sickly sweet. I was becoming a master disguise by this point, and I found work as a specialty consort. The Boss thought I was just good with makeup; I was careful to never go change too much in his presence. In the bedroom, though, I kept my clients happy, becoming whatever they desired. I prefected my disguises; after years I was able to emulate ponies based only on description, including details like cutie marks and freckles.

It wasn't a good life, but it wasn't bad. It sheltered me from the Wastes. The drug cloud of enforced happiness might have affected my mind as well. The years became a decade, then two. Finally, the old Boss died and his son took over. A greedy twist, he took over by strong-hoof tactics and kept in power through beatings. He was powerful though. He knocked over one competator (there were seven by this point), then another. I looked like he would have a monopoly on the market with five years, so nopony was willing to leave his employ. We weren't treated great, by enemy personnel had it worse by far.

At length, I'd had enough. One night, the bastard came to my room, hoping to have some fun. Wanted to beat his father, I could pull that look off right? He didn't notice the needle until he'd dropped. I hid the body and took his place.

I emulated the cruelty well, and of course my appearance we perfect. No one questioned what had happened to the specialty whore, on my order. I made sure I had trust, and then I started to make changes. I stopped the beatings and kicked out half the twisted guards. I hired professionals and cleaned the place up. Sure, there was competition, but it wasn't so bad that mercilessness was required. I worked hard to make Flank a bit better. Even ponies deserve more.

Maybe it was having gotten out of the bedroom and into the workroom that had cleared my head. One way or another, I'd changed. I barely felt like a changeling anymore. Most of the time, I just though of myself as a pony with some effective illusion magic. I started eating as if it was what was really sustaining me. Even as a pony, I wanted to get out of Flank. The despare that colored every emotion, the pain and death so close and constant. It was worse for me, I could feel the emotions of every pony around me. I have to get out, find somewhere better. I'd done all I could.

I stepped down quietly after a few years. I handed control over to one of the consorts, an incredibly smart mare named Caprice. She had a business head like nopony I'd seen before. Last I heard, she had bought out half the competition and was browbeating the other half.

I wandered aimlessly at first, but eventually I moves with purpose out to the Mojave. The crossing was difficult, bouncing from town to hovel, but the solitude was like a fast. I cleaned my body of two hundred years of toxins and waste. I focused my mind and considered the future.

It is time to rebuilt the changling race. Pony kind has returned, and if anger runs high, so too does passion. There is sustenance for us again in Equestria.

But this time, we will not fall into the pettiness of our past. I have learned from our mistakes. It was a mistake to try to feed by breaking bonds. It was a mistake to focus our entire race in a single, egotistical being. It was a mistake hold ourselves apart from our food, as if we were superior. I was a mistake to think of ponies as only a food source and not also a source of friendship.

I will find another egg and raise the next queen. I will raise her with love, but apart from a society in which she might gorge. I will teach her my skills: near perfect replication, creating one's own masks, judging the emotions of others through taste, building a network of friendship with other races, and feeding off other races. I will teach her how to hold up one side of the bond of love without turning the other end into a chain. All of this I will teach her and when she is ready we will remake the changelings. This time, however, we will live with the ponies and zebras, among them, as friends and companions and lovers.

Secure in myself and my quest, I reached the far side of the Mojave. Following a river south through the mountains, I came to Phoenix Valley and began my search.