//------------------------------//
// Shovel Night 
// Story: Legends of Equestria: Hesturland 
// by The Blue EM2 
//------------------------------//

Rockhoof had gotten the room he had needed to rest in for the night from the owner of the Hayseed Bar and Smokehouse, which he admitted he thought charged very reasonable rates given they were the only accommodation in the region (his being unsure about whether ponies were accepted in nearby New Orleans did leave Rockhoof somewhat concerned), and had spent the remainder of the evening getting his supplies in order. At least now he had something of a base to hang around at, and allowed him to stay in and put things together into a logical order. He took out a small journal he kept to record his many travels across this funny land, and noted something down in it.

Note: Dragons seem especially prone to centripetal force manipulation. If they fly too fast in a circle, they get dizzy and fall over. This could be worth exploiting if attacked by dragons again, so keep it at the top of the mind.

Rockhoof finished penning those words with his mouth (ever tried operating a byro with hooves? It's impossible!) and then trotted over to the window, sliding open the curtains to try and get a better view of what was out there in the world. There were lots of trees, and plenty of swamp lying about him, and not only that there was much noise and bright lights. Before him stood the limitless expanse of a giant lake, namely Lake Ponchartrain, the very thing which kept them away from those humans who caused them so much trouble. To his right lay New Orleans, and the glimmering lights eminated from the many skyscrapers and tall buildings. He also swore he could hear jazz music floating in over the bay and into his ears, though he sincerely doubted that. Either a band was playing extremely loud or there were lots of them playing at once, which he suspected would not be allowed given current times.

Speaking of music, it seemed as though the band had just started their final number for the night, based on the sound floating up from below the floorboards.

"Of all the money that e'er I had;

I spent it in good company.

And all the harm I've ever done;

Alas it was to none but me.

And all I've done for want of wit

To mem'ry now I can't recall;

So fill to me the parting glass 

Good night and joy be to you all!"



"So fill to me the parting glass 

And drink a health whate’er befall, 

And gently rise and softly call 

Good night and joy be to you all!"



"Of all the comrades that e'er I had;

They're sorry for my going away!

And all the sweethearts that e'er I had;

They'd wish me one more day to stay!

But since it falls unto my lot,

That I should rise and you should not;

I gently rise and softly call-

Good night and joy be to you all!"



"So fill to me the parting glass 

And drink a health whate’er befall, 

And gently rise and softly call 

Good night and joy be to you all!"

Those who were listening certainly seemed to enjoy it, as did Rockhoof. But then, he realised that something was afflicting him. A distinct thing all living things deal with; tiredness. He needed to get off to sleep. He removed his jacket, and trotted over to the bed with a yawn, before sliding under the covers and, seconds later, was out light a like. Sorry, I meant out like a light (apologies. Ink got smudged). That, or the swamp pop had made him drowsy.

The very next morning, the sun rudely floated in and penetrated the thin curtains, shining directly into Rockhoof's face. He rolled to the other side to avoid it, the sounds of birds tweeting still going strong in his ears.

"What time is it?" he asked, as he rolled onto the floor, his eyes only half open and still bleary. He could do with a wash later, and hoped that this place had washing facilities. It seemed so peaceful, the sky being blue, the sun being hot in the sky, the birds tweeting, the locals already playing their accordions-

Wait, what? "Do the locals never stop making music?" Rockhoof said. "I found bagpipes hard enough when I was a wee lad!"

He made his way towards the door, when suddenly he heard a loud series of bangs, like a power transformer going haywire. He ran to the window and quickly realised they weren't faulty power, but something altogether more nefarious.

A group of mysterious men were advancing towards the village and opening fire. "Go! Go!" shouted their leader. "Take the town and get the artefacts! Eliminate the Pillars along the way if you can!"

There was a loud ringing of bells from various buildings. "Turn out the Guard! Turn out the Guard!"

In that moment, a group of ponies, at least thirty strong, emerged from various places and took up position, their heavy muskets lain into position and ready for use. As the enemy approached, still firing off the odd warning shot, they reached a prime position for the ambush to be sprung.

The enemy crossed the threshold. It was time.

"FIRE!"

With a loud crack, the muskets discharged, a vast wall of bullets flying through the air and towards the enemy. Quite a few shots missed, but such was the volume of fire that some would hit, the guns being a mighty area denial weapon. Several went down in a volley of fire like dominoes.

"Return fire!" the big human bellowed. The soldiers stopped, dived to the ground, and opened fire. Their weapons were considerably newer, and as a result were more accurate.

"Switch to heat vision!"

Something on their goggles reset, and brought up the thermal signatures of the enemy soldiers, allowing them to shoot more accurately. Several ponies went down this way, as they were still readying a return volley. It was chaos.

They eventually got to fire off another volley, but in a firefight where one set of firearms could get a round off every two seconds and the other only one every twenty seconds, it soon became pretty clear who was on top on that front. These strange humans were on the verge of winning, and Rockhoof knew he had to help. With speed and haste, he launched himself out of the window and landed on the floor. The only thing that could possibly have happened, fortunately, happened, and he kept going. He would pay the owner back for the damaged window at a later date, but it was hardly at the top of his list of priorities right now. He made his way towards the tree. Something he had noticed in that area was that there was a place filled with water to act as an emergency defence mechanism. He reasoned that if he could trigger it, he would be able to, at the very least, swing things a little bit in favour of the ponies. He ran at the giant marker that controlled the release gate, took the rope secured to the front with his mouth, and pulled hard.

Nothing happened. The gate didn't shift.

"Come on!" he growled through gritted teeth. "Move, you stupid thing, move!"

But still the gate would not budge. Rockhoof would need a bit of extra leverage, and then he saw it. Sitting nearby was a large shovel. It was a fairly plain, large, unnasuming shovel, with a metal head and a wooden arm on which the head sat and could be put into the ground (which Rockhoof had earlier landed on), but it was a shovel nontheless, and it could give him the extra leverage required to open the gate. He grabbed it in his teeth, dropped down to the bottom of the gate, and jammed the front of the head under the gate. He lifted, and he lifted, and he lifted with all the strength he could muster, trying and straining to get the gate open.

"Maybe if I was stronger!" he growled, the strain starting to get to him.

But then, there was a bright and sudden flash that surrounded him. With a massive boom, the shovel was suddenly as tough as titanium, and the gate swung upwards with such force it nearlt flew off its hinges. Water rushed down the tidal valley like a thundering storm, ramping and roaring loudly as it made its merry way down the canal. The soldiers saw the water floor, but it was too late for them to move, and they were swept away into the briny depths and out towards the sea (or, at the very least, another section of the swamp).

Rockhoof clambered out of the water, depositing the shovel on the side of the land, and shook the water off himself. "Well, that was quite the adventure!" he said, before noticing the villagers were looking at him. "What?" he asked.

"Well, sir, Ah don't quite know how ta put this, but... you've changed!"

Rockhoof trotted over to the water and gasped. Gone was the scrawny thing he had been earlier, and before him stood a rippling wall of muscle and bone. He was so tall his head would scrape any doorway, his beard so massive and his hair so wild and flowing that he created a positively romantic image of a Scottish Highlander. His clothing had conveniently grown in size to match his colossal frame, and every inch of him was a powerful fighter, a machine ready to protect, attack, and fight back. It's the dead memes show, everybody!

Meadowbrook trotted over, and playfully nudged Rockhoof on the shoulder. "Now that's the Rockhoof Ah remember," she said, with a grin on her face. "Ya saved us with that act of bravery, and we need ta thank you."

"It was nothing, Meadowbrook," Rockhoof replied. "If anything, I need to thank all of you for agreeing to keep me in, rather than casting me out. Such a pity I couldn't save the people of Dunedin."

"Dun... Edin?" Stygian asked, who had by this point appeared on Rockhoof's right. "Where's that, and what happened there?"

"The volcano, which may I point out was extinct, erupted and buried the town in lava. If only I had had my strength! I could have dug a trench to lead it away from the city and saved it."

"Ah'm certain you did all you could," Meadowbrook reassured him, gently rubbing his shoulder with her hoof, or doing so as best she could given the now rather drastic difference in height between stallion and mare.

"And I need to write this story down and immortalise it in song- the incident with the water, not the lava," Stygian quickly clarified. "It shall be a saga for all the ages!"

"Again, I only did what any stallion would have done," Rockhoof said. "Say, have any of you seen Flash Magnus or the others around?"

"Who's Flash Magnus?" asked one of the villagers.

Rockhoof sighed. "I'll take that as a no. But I need to warn you all, that there is a grave threat to all of you out there, one that will not stop until all that we love is burned to ash. There is a great, fire breathing dragon out there burning the countryside, eating crops, and destroying all in its path. His name is Torch, and he is a most foul being."

Meadowbrook looked around in concern. "We need ta ensure that we are ready to defend ourselves and help others who need help," she said. "Fer that, Ah need ta head back ta mah workshop to get some new cures ready, as well as tonics to aid us in battle. Rockhoof, you can stay with me and we can formulate strategy."

"It's going to get rather squashed, isn't it?" Stygian asked. "I mean, I'm already lodging there. I have been for a bit."

Meadowbrook smiled. "In mah tree, there are many rooms."