//------------------------------// // Family, Elders, and Plot // Story: Fallout Equestria: Taking Life By The Horns // by Pokonic //------------------------------// I just looked at my father and suppressed the urge to say something about the sociopathic pony that was following me, but his next words stopped any chance of that getting out of my mouth. “You failed, Ever Watchful.” Dumbfounded, I had only a single thing to say, and that was “What?” The scar-covered hardass who just so happened to sire me just gave a grunt of annoyance. “You had three chances to avoid this mess. Three. Every time, you failed.” It took a few moments to let that sink in, but when it did, it stung. Hard. I said nothing, and knowing Bulls Strength, he did not expect me to anyway. When he talked, other’s stayed quiet, lest they get hurt. “First, you did not question Blueberry Cream about her origins. If questioned, she would have responded with the name of a far-off town and, and as a guard your duty is to subdue strange individuals.” I internally groaned. This was a test! Curse that little demonic pony; she was probably paid off to screw with me! “Your second chance was to stay in your chambers when Brass came to wake you up.” His tone never changed, but there was a newfound undercurrent of disgust in his voice. While not necessarily demanding, there was a certain element in his voice that made me want to kneel as he spoke. It scared me. “Finally, you failed to bring Blueberry Cream down and take her to either me or the Elder when she was found by you.” I just glared at Bull, who just let out a hearty chuckle. “Now, then, I want you to come and look at the pool.” Naturally, I followed. Perhaps some decent father-son talk could save me from losing my guardianship and being reduced to a pottery-maker or goat-tender. The pool was thin but wide, a sparkling white-blue spot in the grey earth, and I leaned over it. Compared to slushy grey pools that formed naturally because of rain, it was pristine, almost unnatural looking, something alien to the world at large. Bulls Strength never moved from his leaning position on the pillar, but intoned a simple command. “Look at yourself.” I did, unsure of the alternatives. The pool was calm enough to be almost mirror like in its properties, and I saw my reflection easily in it. I saw my body, lean compared to some of my other kin but still somewhat bulky around the shoulders compared to some of the other bulls, and the uniform black-grey color of my fur. My horns were slightly curved and sharpened, but still thinner at the base than most of the others my age: there was a joke in that, and many of the cows knew it. In all, I looked normal, sans the distinct lack of visible scars that most others had gained through daily life in the commune. After a few minutes of gazing at myself, I gave in. “Dad, what’s this about?” He just gave me an amused look. “Have you memorized how you look, Watchful?” I was confused, but pressed on. “I suppose, yeah?” “Remember, that is what you looked on your last day living here.” His words hit me like a ton of bricks. In fact, I nearly tripped on Ton of Bricks prone form when he said it. I still said nothing, barely comprehending what he just said. Exile! Bulls expression, sensing that most of the thoughts in my head were now related in some way to patricide and the methods regarding it's execution, turned grave. “You know that this is the only punishment that is fitting for a failed hunter, Watchful. As a bull of twenty seasonal cycles, you were picked out of everyone to be the next in the ranks of the hunters. ” An icy numbness formed in my head as realization kicked in. I had a chance to be something in my home, I blew it, and I did nothing right and it were that dammed mare and my uncaring father and.... I said nothing. Bulls Strength just looked at me with mild disappointment. “The Elder wished to see you, Watchful, regardless of your state. It's probably for advice, good advice at that. I suggest you listen to him. Goodbye, son.” I looked away from the uncaring brute and looked at the prone, sleeping forms of the gathered hunters and guards. Only then did I realize that this was a party for me, in a dual manner. They could have drank for my newfound higher ranking, or as a last send-off into the deadly Wasteland. While most did not know everyone in the commune by name, it was tradition to know the fellow members in your rung of the social ladder. I gazed at every single sleeping form, trying to remember there faces or names. Brass Knuckle, Copper Pot, Steel Grip, Broken Blade, Pike Swinger, Jagged Spear.... Knowing I could do this all night, I stopped, and gave my father my best attempt at a look of general hatred. He gave a snort, and waved me off with one of his massive pitch-black arms in the general direction of the entrance. I turned, and walked out of the lodge as easily as I came in. Then, I suppose,if I wanted to, I could cry. The walk back to the commune, or rather the breakneck rush to the Elders barn, passed by quickly. Blueberry, the brat, was nowhere to be found, and good thing for her, as my horns were sharpened, after all, and I was only half-afraid with what I would do with them if I saw the little sneak. Talking about every little crag of rock would be pointless, here, considering I could not even see where I was going. I was stumbling in the dark, led by the half-light of the camp. It was probably a few good minutes until I arrived at the barn. My hooves were sore, and my legs had several shallow cuts and bruises where they had been caught in the rocks. No matter, really, considering the only things I could feel at the moment was fear and hate. Fear for the future, and hate with anything that breathed. Before I could knock on the wood-on-bronze door, it, to my mild shock, opened. The Elder stood at his full size, impassive as ever and giving me a neutral look. With a slight movement to the side, he let me pass into his domain. And so, I stepped into the light for the second time that day. The Elder’s housing was much more than that, really. It also had half the things the commune needed to survive. A makeshift school was in one section, filled with pre-war texts, while other rooms filled with old-world technology filled its wooden frame. A stationary pink-yellow medical robot next to a few stained cots that formed the hospital, the power generator in the back, the sewing machine that did most of the work creating what little cloth that was needed, all maintained by the only one with any knowledge on how they worked. The Elder had gained some critics complaining that he had yet to train anyone else in there workings, but most knew that he had the best job security in the entire settlement and wanted to keep it that way for the long haul. Neverless, the Elder began walking to the back end of the structure, and I followed suit, all the way to the only set of closed doors in the whole building. He pushed them open easily, and we both slowly walk inside into, I realized, the Elders personal office. It was a let-down, honestly. Not like I expected gold-plated walls, or anything, just a light trimming of it. A a gem-studded gem mirror or somesuch. Hell, dragon skin would be nice, considering how much of it there would be there to go around when you got a dead dragon and a industrial tool. It was mostly empty, with white walls and actual tile floors of a light cream color that I had to admit have aged well. His extremely well-cared for laser minigun was resting in a large, possibly climate-controlled glass dome on the right side of the room, while on the left half a dozen bookshelves contained pre-war writings and knick-knacks. His desk was at the far end of the room, a huge wooden block with a large bronze butterfly serving as a sort of identifier, and was covered with varying mechanical objects of metal and glass and crystal and light, with something that suspected to be a terminal off to the right side in arms-length. As if to greet visitors, the back was nearly wholly covered in a large, slightly faded poster depicting an interesting image. The Elder saw the look on my face, and spoke for the first time since my arrival in the calming low rumble he was known for. “I suppose you have many questions, young one?” I was still on the verge of a breakdown, even after my rampage on my way to him, so I just carefully nodded. He just gave a slight smile. “First and foremost, would you like some tea?” I was tired, upset, and slightly sore all over, lost any hope of achieving any of my hopes or dreams, or any chance of seeing anyone I loved for the rest of my life, and I was now wondering what whisky tasted like. “Yes, with milk please.” The Elder just gave a knowing smile and, to my slight amazement, pushed a button on a squat machine on his desk, which caused a little door to open. With slightly trembling fingers, he handed me a mug of steaming scrub tea, with what looked like little clouds of milk floating around in it. Apparently, he found the look on my face priceless. “First rule of the wasteland is to not be surprised by the bounty of the past. For instance, that little box there is what I believe to be one of the last microwaves in a week’s travel from here not damaged by the balefire blasts in a manner that corrupted the fragile crystal lens that focused energy for it to work.” I stared at the little box in awe, and took a small sip of the tea. It was the best thing I had ever drunk. The Elder politely waited for me to finish drinking, and continued. “What do you know about the world, Ever Watchful?” The question took me by mild surprise. There was a war, bombs fell, and mostly everything died. What survived became stronger and tougher. Then, the survivors began to come out of there hiding places and found a changed world full of irradiation and taint. “What I was told in school, sir. By you.” He just gave me an impatient look, so I quickly followed up with details. “The zebras and the ponies fought each other for more than a decade, and griffons and dragons and other races fought for whatever side they saw fitting. Then the world ended.” He looked pleased at my understanding, and said three little words. “What about us?” I...I had no idea. My face showed that. His expression did not change. “We, as a race, originated from the land of Fleece, but we left there centuries ago with our sheep comrades to avoid contact with the zebra’s of Roam, which had obliterated several other kingdoms near us. We traveled far, some south, some east, some west, but only the ones who went north survived. There, we traveled through lands such as the Tsardom of Unicornia and beyond until we found the great expanse of land that would later be known as Caladonia. We settled there, but our kind was split into two during the Great War. One side wished to remain true to our roots and practice the old ways of the city-states, while others listened to fools who preached in the name of Discord and wished to become, in there own words, ‘free’. They allied with the zebras, and even now would willingly kill every cow and calf in this commune without hesitation and enslave the bulls.” I, while shocked, listened attentively. The Elder gave a little hum, as if collecting his thoughts together. “No minotaur fought in the Equestrian army, but one did fight in a different way. He was Iron Will, and he was the most important minotaur to ever live.” He let that sink in, and I have to admit, it took a while. After a few seconds, however, he continued. “Iron Will, first and foremost, was an exile from his own community, as he was deemed too meek to be a proper bull. He, along with his goatish companions, went out to learn self-respect and esteem. He traveled for several years, and eventually he succeeded so well that, when he was invited to a self-help seminar, a sort of place where those who felt they were weak came together to become stronger under guidance, and the organizer thought he was the one paid to be there. That was the day he learned he had achieved his goal: to be able to help others.” I was mesmerized at the tale, and took a good drink of the tea. Delicious. “He traveled across Equestria, where he quickly drew fame. After all, minotaur’s were very rare there, and none traveled around giving motivational speeches. While some called him ‘monster’ or ‘savage’, he just smiled and accepted it, for he knew ponies did not know better. And so, he gave speech’s and seminars, and only asked for pay when he knew he was successful. But then, something happened.” He gave a half-glazed smile at the poster behind him. “He met a pony who said that she never needed his help. That pony's name was Fluttershy, and she would later become a leader of the Equestrian wartime government. You see, Ever Watchful, there were six powers in Equestria at the time.” I had no idea what he was going with this, but I liked it. Entertaining, anyway. Might be useful later. “The first was Arcane Sciences, the second was Wartime Technology, the third was Moral, the fourth was Image, the fifth was Awesome, and, most importantly of all, there was Peace. Peace, rather than focusing on fighting the war, aimed to stop it. And so, a few years into the war, Fluttershy asked Iron Will if he would like a job. He, after she admitted she learned something from him, came out of a depression and began his new task of uplifting her fellow ponies. He succeeded in his efforts, enough that he became well known enough that other’s wanted his assistance as well. Moral offered him a massive contract involving a small fortune for things he was already doing, Image groomed his public image as a near-saint, and Technology even used his personality as a base for several robots.” I was enthralled. Surely this bull…. And then the fact that this was 200 years ago came to mind. So much for that train of thought. “In essence, Iron Will lived a great and fulfilling life. However, he wished to save his people, in the off chance of the war going hot in the balefire sense. By asking around and pooling funds, he managed to appeal to the heads of the varying Ministries to, in turn, ask the heads of Stable Tech to make three Stables with at least a small amount of us within it. I do not know how he did this, but he did. I know this because I myself came from one of these Stables, and was trained as a engineer there.” That was a shock, but perhaps not the biggest one today.Figures, really, that an stable dweller ends up leading a wasteland settlement. “I myself came from Stable 125, which is quite a ways away, I am afraid. There was another further inside Equestria, number 111, which was cleared out by Steel Rangers by the time I found it. I do not know what happened to the minotaurs who lived in it. The other was Stable 109, which housed not only minotaur’s, but buffalo and cattle as well. Fittingly, it’s in Tauronto.” I blinked. I knew that name. Most travelers coming down our trail have to be told that they have to go east, not farther north, in order to go to it. In fact, it’s probably the largest settled place in the region, and it was that exact reason the hunters avoided going east at all costs. I looked at the Elders smile, and grinned slightly. I guessed there was a chance to restart, I supposed, going by his words. “Sir, thank you for telling me this. I do appreciate the time you have taken for me, I am sorry that I failed.” The old bull blinked, frowning lightly. "You wish to leave so soon? But you have yet to prepare the things you need to take with you!” I saw his gaze turn to the varying parts of his workshop, and I nearly cried out in joy. The haul was good. Really good. I almost felt guilty, considering how much I was taking from him, but going from his grins he wanted to see it all in use. In all, I had another well-stocked medical kit (“Pry anything with a butterfly on it out of the ground if you have to” was the Elders advice on the matter.), a odd crown-like object he called a ‘recollector’, a backpack stuffed with pre-war ready made meals and some teabags, a steel machete, in better condition than my own, and a set of griffon-modal combat armor modified for minotaur usage, one of the few I knew to exist in the community. I also decided to switch my trusty knife for a ripper he had in stock, because I always wanted a chainsaw and that would probably be the closest thing I would ever have to one and it’s a chainsaw knife oh Discord its everythingIeverwantedandsomuchmore! However, I saw a little flaw. Rather, I had no idea how to shoot a gun, and from my observations, gun catalogs seemed to be what most ponies used in lew of Wingboner Magazine when the latter was not available. And I only know that because I might have looked at trader’s confiscated wares when I was young, and nothing to do with hormones or anything. Nope. Not that I found skinny, weird-looking things like ponies attractive. The Elder just smiled a tiny smile in response to my question about the lack of actual firepower. “I know that, Ever Watchful. Thankfully for the both of us, there is another who is heading for Tauronto herself. I think you might know her.” Herself. Oh, Discord, no! Not her! Anything but her! As if to mock me, her voice came from within the room. Next to me. Fuck tiny blue unicorns and their invisibility spells. “Ex-Senior Scribe Blueberry Cream of the Fillydelphia Steel Rangers at your service!”