The San Palomino desert. It could be said that it's one of the most inhospitable places in the wasteland, next to the harsh irradiated conditions of Fillydelphia or the clouded inside of Old Canterlot. So inhospitable, even the Enclave and the local S.P.P. Tower were unable to maintain cloudcover above it from a lack of moisture in the air. With hundreds of miles of sand surrounded by knife-like mountains, a myriad of creatures that'd make even the most experienced adventurer meet their end, and a continuous barrage of storms comprised of rock and dust, the Palomino earned its namesake as the "forbidden frontier" of the wastes.
Giant pits of radioactive glass lay scattered across the sandy landscape, the once-beautiful and bustling oasis towns now reduced to slag and rubble. With them are the wretched Husks that shamble around at night, glowing a brilliant green like a field of balefire flame - formerly regular ponies who lived their own fulfilling lives, transformed by the bombs. Legends say that they're always seeking a source of water to replenish their dried, crusty skin, and will eat you if they think you've got any.
If you told somepony from the mainland that you were even thinking of venturing out into the Palomino, they'd probably tell you to buy a casket for yourself first. Yet, despite all the hardships, there existed a small rag-tag team of ponies without a direction who figured they'd give it a shot. The settlers of Death Gulch, pioneers of the Palomino, were the first outsiders to truly take the wild desert by its horns about twenty years before the Lightbringer exited her stable, taking shelter in a secluded earthy hallway of winding canyons and crevices.
Amongst them were former mercenaries, farmers, prospectors, even the occasional ranger or two - but they weren't without extra company upon arrival. It turns out, that very gulch was the home of a secluded tribe who’d remained there since the last day, 200 years in the past, surviving from desert cultivation techniques passed down from the earthpony farmers before them. They taught the settlers how to survive, ultimately adopting them as members in exchange for protection and, of course, marriage. Trade routes were established with settlements near the desert's border; food, clothing, and weapons given to them in exchange for exotic foods, crafts, or even passage through the desert itself.
For ten years they thrived, ultimately undisturbed by the happenings in the wasteland; Unity had no desire to send her alicorns to a barren landscape with little to no life, Red-Eye saw no benefit in throwing wanton fodder to a sandy tomb, and raiders were incredibly uncommon sightings due to the lack of anything shiny or druggy in the area. The only connection they had left to the outside world was through merchants and a seldom few radios, singing whatever the DJ-PON3 played on air.
Things changed when the Lightbringer broke free from the confines of her stable, however. It didn't directly affect the Palomino at first, but as miracle after miracle occurred, the residents of Death Gulch found that others had begun to trot out into the desert's coarse borders, most finding a grim end only miles in. That was, of course, until the day of `Sunshine and Rainbows`, a series of sky-shattering rainbooms from every S.P.P. Tower in Equestria that caused a massive scramble for territory all throughout the land.
Thousands of slaves once held in chains rejoiced as they earned their hard-fought freedom, droves of minds held captive by unity were left confused, left to wander the wasteland for purpose, and a fight for power was felt by everypony that remained. There was the side of righteous justice; The New Canterlot Republic, formed out of Junction R-7 and striving to "clean up" the lands around them so that some level of peace could be established. There was the side of evil "order"; Remnants of Red-Eye's slavers that splintered into warlords and gangs began to slowly seep into the Palomino, seeing it as a land to conquer before anypony else could claim it. And, as any good wasteland should have, the side of unfiltered chaos; raiders still roaming around in scattered bands, some getting absorbed by warlord posses. The gulch residents eventually found themselves in a fight for their home - though it didn't last long.
The most notable of the Palomino warlords, a ferocious stallion named "Reck-Room" who stood taller and brawnier than a New Appleloosan train tugger made quick work of anypony who resisted his expansion. A former slave under Red-Eye who notoriously gained his position as a soldier through Fillydelphia's pit, he razed through whatever untrained and under-equipped fighters the gulch had sent his way, swiftly ending their lives or having them placed in slave collars. He cut a swath of land into the previously-unclaimed desert with efficiency that had been unseen for years, surviving on the labor of unwilling ponies and the knowledge of captured natives. Hope began to dwindle amongst the gulch with each captured fighter, their numbers thinning as the days went by. It would take nothing short of a miracle to put an end to what appeared to be their doom.
The Equestrian Wasteland was prone to sudden miracles, thankfully for them, and their prayers were answered in the form of fallen angels. After Operation: Cauterize, the Enclave had found themselves splintered and broken. Some sought to rebuild the life they had in the clouds, actively seeking out dashites on the ground to continue branding and ridding them from the land. Others found that resistance towards the quickly-expanding NCR was futile, supporting them in their advance through the wasteland and assisting in rebuilding what was lost. For the crew of the Altonimbus, however, the concept of choice was slowly dwindling into nothing. The battle of Neighvarro and the clearing of the sky left their cloud generators wounded, barely puffing out enough steam to keep them steadily afloat.
The crew worked day and night tirelessly to keep the mighty ship airborne, but their bodies soon suffered from exhaustion. With a lack of food, clean water, and ponypower, their acting commander Gallant Feather made the choice to willingly begin descent into the wasteland below, and more particularly... The Palomino.
"And then what happened?!" I loudly exclaimed, slamming my hooves into the sandy ground.
The old stallion telling the story ahead of me looked up, smiling warmly. "Well," he chuckled gruffly, "Ah guess you're just gonna have t'find out tomorrow night, lil' spud. It's gettin' to be past 'yer bedtime."
A cacophony of other colts and fillies' protesting arose, mine included. "Noooo!" I shouted, "at this rate, we're NEVER gonna finish, Mister Snowcone!"
Mister Snowcone raised an eyebrow, cracking a wicked grin across his face. Leaning in, he began to whisper in a low voice. "But if you don't get'cher selves to bed, then th' MAULWURF might get'cha."
Another uproar amongst the children began, panicked in nature, and they began to huddle amongst one another... Except for me. A malwurf wasn't scary at all! It was just a big, dumb mole. Only babies were afraid of that sort of thing, and I was no baby. "Yeah right!" I shot back, crossing my hooves. "Everypony knows that the expeditionary force protects us from the animals." And my parents were the best ones! I knew practically everything about animals from my mom and dad.
A pink-coated filly shot me a glare, her blonde mane strewn across her eyes like door curtains. "Zip it, Rhapsody!" She huffed, berating me with a hushed yell. "You'll probably attract one anyways with how loud you always are!"
Ugh. It was Bubblegum. That rat-faced filly never knows when to shut her trap. I was about to raise my voice to defend myself, when suddenly, Mister Snowcone interrupted. "Alright, alright." He waved his hoof between us, stepping in the middle. "That's enough 'fer today, now. Why don't you go on back t'yer homes, it's gettin' dark." He said to the still-huddled fillies, smiling warmly at them. "Go on, 'git."
Slowly, they all dispersed, saying their goodbyes to him and one another. Bubblegum shot me another mean glare before turning back and trotting away, deeper into the canyons. Part of me hoped she got eaten by a maulwurf. As I began to follow behind to go home, I was stopped by the older stallion.
"Hold on, now, Rhapsody." Said Mister Snowcone, placing a dirty, granite-colored hoof on my back. "Ah want t'talk with you about something right quick. 'Yer 'ma an' pa won't mind, I already told'm ah was gonna keep y'round."
Feeling his rough, grainy hoof on my back made me shudder. Mister Snowcone was a friendly old stallion, I didn't mind him, but he really knew how to delay things. What the hay did this geezer want with me?
"What do you need?" I asked, albeit a little worriedly, looking up at his grey-bearded muzzle. Did I forget to lock the radbunny pens again? Worry began to course through me, my ears pressed against the back of my skull. "D-did I do something wrong?" Might as well save face and at least LOOK like I feel guilty.
Mister Snowcone, to little surprise, gave a mighty guffaw. "Ha-ha! No, not at all, son!" He said, patting my back again. "C'mere, take a seat. Ah wanted t'get you a lil' something 'fer that birthday of yours that's comin' up, y'see? Ah know you're wantin' t'be a part of the expeditionary force just like 'yer parents, so ah figured ah'd get'cha a lil' something to help you out along the way." He reached around behind him, pulling out a small metallic box from his saddlebags.
Oh. Right. My birthday. I'd nearly forgot about it! I was so busy with today's chores that I'd barely had time to consider the troubles of turning 12 years old. "Oh!" I exclaimed, rubbing the back of my head. "Sorry Mister Snowcone, I guess it just kind've slipped my mind." Examining the box closer, I could make out an odd, dirty logo on the top of it. S-T-B... T-E...? The words were muddled and corroded from the years gone by. "Uh... What is it?" My head flopped to the side, confused.
Mister Snowcone snorted, setting the box on the ground in front of me. "Well, it ain't just a box, spud. Open 'er up!" He exclaimed, gesturing towards it.
I looked down at the box, carefully bringing my hoof across the top, wiping off some dust and sand. I could read the words much better now. "Stable... Tec? What's that?" I looked up to the geezer for any clues, but he didn't say a word, only gesturing me to open it again. Right. I should have just done that to begin with. Lifting a side of the cover off, I quickly "unwrapped" my present. Inside the box was something I'd never seen before.
While I was stuck trying to figure out what was staring back at me, Mister Snowcone erupted with excitement; "It's your very own Pipbuck! Well, it used t'be MY very own pipbuck, but I didn't quite need it no more. Ah'm too old to go out and fight those desert demons. So, ah figured you'd get some use out've it."
I sat there, open-mouthed. A pipbuck? I'd only HEARD about them before. Taking it in my hooves, it felt a lot lighter than it looked. A squeaky hinge wiggled back and forth, dangling half of the pipbuck's wrist-locking mechanism near the ground as if it were beckoning my foreleg inside. "Can I...?" I looked to the geezer.
"Put it on! Let's see how it'll fit you. These things are practically a one-size-fits-all, provided y'ain't too much of a smallfry. It'll adjust as y'get older an' bigger."
Excitedly, I shoved my foreleg inside of the pipbuck's carapace, and latched it shut. Immediately, its soft velvety interior began to mold to my leg like a warm hug. It wasn't too uncomfortable, rather, it felt... Right? I stared at the pipbuck's black screen, waiting for it to do something.
Suddenly, it flashed a brilliant tech-y green, displaying an array of words and commands that I didn't fully understand. It whirred like an angry motor, and I began to grow a little nervous that it was going to explode on my leg. After a moment of watching nonsense fly up the screen, the screen went black once more, before the letters "STABLE-TEC" popped up one by one. A display flickered onto the screen, showing a flurry of information - none of it in my scope of knowledge. It was practically gibberish.
Mister Snowcone supervised me intently. "Ah can help you get it set up while y'wait for 'yer parents t'get back from th'glasslands. They should be returnin' pretty soon now, ah'd say by the end've the hour. You don't mind stayin' up a little bit past your bedtime, do you?" He asked, showing an imperfect, near-toothless smile through his thick beard hair.
I didn't mind one bit. Nodding excitedly, I began to briskly trot forward, deeper into the winding canyons. Excitement built up inside of me like a stick of dynamite ready to blow, and I couldn't help but bellow, "I'm gonna be a super-explorer!"
"Now, just wait up! Ah ain't as quick as ah used t'be, spud!" Said Mister Snowcone, trying to catch up, but to no avail. I was already sprinting full-kilter deeper into the canyons, hooting and hollering for everypony to hear.
This was the best day of my life! I looked up at the bustling city of rock above me, a ginormous hunk of shaped metal and fabric painted a dirty blue, wedged inbetween the walls. While lanterns and lights hung loosely from it like they were stars, ponies of the night market traded and haggled fervently under their dim brightness. As I passed through, I couldn't miss the real sky shining above it; true stars twinkling amidst a sea of black abyss, the moon shining brilliantly down upon me. It filled me with resolve.
After minutes of running as fast as my long, skinny legs could go, I made it to the other end of the gulch, making my way up the wooden scaffolding and rickety pathways to reach the primary entrance of the mighty crack in the earth that I, and many others, called home. It took me several moments to fully catch my breath, but I was able to finally gaze out at the barren desert that would someday await me.
Sparkles in my eyes, I felt the winds from the east brush against my face, clouds of sand twirling around me. Looking out into the vastness of the desert, I came to a realization that both disheartened me and motivated me. It wasn't like I didn't know, but there was still a plethora of training I had to go through until I could become a real member of the expeditionary force. Sighing wishfully, I knew one thing was for certain:
There was a long way to go.
FALLOUT EQUESTRIA: SANDS OF THE PALOMINO