I stared at the strange object in front of me. I suppose it could pass for a object of horrific evil. Black and red and pointy, with some sort of pony princess on it. Evil to a minotaur, anyway.
And so, doing the only thing I would believe would be a reasonable response to having an evil-looking magical artifact in ones face, I poked it.
It just moved in unison with the blue magic that surrounded it. The red parts of the…thing made it look almost purple in the half-light.
In response, Blueberry, tugging on an unseen hoop of twine, levitated the metallic doohickey past her head and let it hang off her neck like some sort of ridicules necklace. Frankly, she was pretty funny looking with it on. The contrast between the evil-looking princesses and the blue utterly non-threatening pony that was wearing it was too great not to notice.
“See? It doesn’t do anything.” For effect, she batted a hoof at the possibly mind-altering object like a cat with a toy.
I just groaned. “Blueberry, I can see that.”
She gave me a little glare.
I smiled back.
“Look, I understand. But we are in the middle of a place that is full of ponies that want us both dead.”
Blueberry smiled with appreciation, and I was about to as well until I smelled smoke.
“So, leaving on time. Wonderful.”
I turned. Charnel was leaning on something blunt and heavy looking while chewing thoughtfully on a cigar. The former made me more concerned than the latter, honestly.
“What do you want?” I asked.
The thing Charnel was leaning on was enveloped in red magic, and scooted closer to me.
“You look like a minotaur who could appreciate a giant hammer.”
I blinked. Sure enough, it was. It was, in essence, a lump of concrete with some metal rods sticking out of it, with a smaller lump and rod at the end to serve as a handle.
“I found a few of the solders off duty betting who could pick it up. I don’t think any of them did, but I would think you could.”
I picked it up. It was heavy, heavier than anything else on the cart, but with two arms it was far easier. I gave it a little swing, and was surprised at how much control over it I had.
And there in lies the question.
“Why?”
Charnel just shrugged and chomped on her cigar. “You don’t have anything to swing. I would like my messengers to be well armed.”
Well, so much for generosity. “Thanks, Charnel.”
She just grinned nastily. “No problem, minotaur.”
We both just gazed at each other with mutual false appreciation. I saw a few random guards give us strange looks, but they quickly went back to what they were doing once it clicked that it was Charnel they were whispering about.
Eventually, without saying anything, the black mare turned away and slowly trotted back into her domain.
Blueberry sighed, and poked me in the shoulder.
“Watchful, lets go. And take the hunk of rebar she gave you as well.”
Apparently, the camp was farther in the city than I thought it was. More importantly, the locals were slightly worse off than I first thought they were.
The few that we passed looked filthy, and they all tried to avoid us as we walked pass them. One young mare was missing a leg, while a stallion had a…appendage sticking out of one of his torsos. Yes, one of his torsos. When I mentioned my growing concerns about our safety to Blueberry, she just chuckled.
“Watchful, this entire town is a tribalistic dump. Just keep walking and don’t make eye contact.”
And I did.
And I did for what was probably a few good minutes.
And then Blueberry poked me for the second time that day.
“Hey, Watchful, wanna listen to my radio while your walking? I think I might doze off in a few minutes. ”
I had forgotten about that thing.
“Ehh, why not.”
Blueberry sighed. “Hey, Watchful?”
“Yes?” I asked.
“You might be the only friend I have right now. I just want you to know that.” She said softly.
“Thank you, Blueberry.” I lied shamelessly.
Blueberry let out an even heavier sigh.
“Thanks, Watchful.”
The next few moments were understandably weird for the both of us. Finally, Blueberry broke the silence.
“Going to turn the volume down low so that the ponies don’t get agitated. Good night, hopefully.”
I heard a clicking noise and a burst of static. To my surprise, a scratchy, feminine voice came up from the radio, accompanied by bombastic music that sounded like large chunks of metal being slammed against each other.
“Heeeelllooooo Taaaauuurrrooonnnttttooooo! It is I, your alllllmmmmmiggggggtttty dark god!”
I felt the blood freeze in my veins, which quickly thawed when I heard riotous laughter.
“Oh gosh, did I really just…heh. Phahaaahahaha! Oh goddesses, did I actually…on air! I wish I had cameras! Oh, is this what those....heh.”
I was not sure if I could laugh at the “joke”.
“Anyway, ponies of the wasteland, I am proud to say that today, on this very day, DJ Nightcore can be heard outside our dear old city! That’s right, the good folks in the N. C. R. have fixed the old station in Braymont and got the transmitter working, and now my sick beats can be heard as far west as Dis! Our local slice of Pa-ra-dise! This calls for a formal introduction, but that can be done with an early morning broadcast, right everypony?”
The sound of cheering ponies echo from the radio, followed by what was probably Blueberry snoring.
“Anyway, folks, time for our regular weekly news update! And it’s a big one this time folks. As it turns out, one of the members of the Reaver Movement was captured by the Purebreds. Now, for those not aware of Taurontoian political naggy-gaggying, this basically means any pony walking the wrong way is going to die even faster than usual.”
Before I could even wonder what that meant, the radio continued on.
“Anyway, speaking of ghouls, the annual Nightmare Night celebration is coming soon, and that means a lot of nice stuff coming in from our dead friends in the city. However, it’s been delayed thanks to the ghoulnapping stunt the Purebreds pulled off. So if you see one of them, give them a dirty look. I know you want good booze as much as I do, friends.”
The voice paused slightly. What was a "Nightmare Night", anyway?
“Anyway, besides that, the cult in Tauronto General has gone silent. No one has seen anypony enter or leave the building for days. Usually, the Scions would have gone on one of there recruiting sprees by now, but the lack of activity is probably a bad sign. Anypony who wants free handouts should probably avoid the place for now.”
Huh, a cult. Weird.
“Speaking of strange cults, a dead Steel Ranger was found near the Knock. Again, it’s a mystery, but this one might involve rocket launchers. Anypony who is too young to remember what the Rangers here were like are very, very lucky. This could be bad, frankly. For the bounty hunters out there, the Reavers are still offering a lot of caps for any live Ranger brought in with proof of there membership.”
Well, that’s not good.
“Speaking of the old collage campus, a group of ponies raided the place a few weeks ago and apparently knocked down an old magical shield in one of the main buildings. Now, folks, I only know this because of one of the few survivors talked to me about it. He’s not entirely certain what he has seen, either. This is probably another case of haunting, if you want to call it that.”
The voice on the radio (Nightcore?) sighed, and I remembered the irradiated pony we met on the road. Well, I suppose he might have been telling the truth.
“Ponies, I would suggest you stick to your own dwellings for the next week or two. It’s bad when you start reminiscing about the raider gangs. At least Carron and Blackhorn kept their gang wars in the old Maple Leaf arena. I am sorry that I have to say this, my ponies, but I would try and stay out of the limelight for now. Getting noticed now will get you shot faster than ever before.”
Yeash, what a wonderful place to live.
“Oh, wait! One more thing, and it’s a doozy. I am sure everypony knows the legends about the Crystal Empire, right?”
I keep hearing that name. I feel like I am the only being north of Canterlot know does not know what it is.
“Silly question, right? Well, everypony, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the radiation coming from the place has not gotten noticeably worse. The bad news is, according to the last group of ponies who managed to get that far north; a Balefire Dragon has gotten loose and is flying south.”
Well, that just sounds like a thing from my nightmares. At least it’s not a Giant Balefire Dragon, or a Cyborg Balefire Dragon, or a Stealth-Cloaked Balefire Dragon. I mean, and then I should really start panicking. I mean, what?
Wait, radiation can get worse?
“Now, before you all start screaming and head for someplace possibly safer, like Canterlot, I would like you all to know that those beasts rarely get anywhere close to the city limits. Despite what others say, there are ponies up there that can deal with monsters like that.
Anyway, my little ponies, I just want you all to know that this is not the worst week in Tauronto history. But I would suggest that anypony heading up here should stay away from city limits for now. I know this is not going to win me any popularity contests, but I would like to think that this place is safer than others in the wasteland. If anything, I would like to think I am keeping ponies from getting killed.
Nightcore, out. We are going to have a silent night tonight, to remind everypony that we need to work together to make this place better. Love and tolerance and all that.”
With another buzz, the radio went quiet.
Well, that was informative, if incredibly confusing. Bah, it’s unlikely to be useful until we get to the place anyway. Blueberry probably needs to know about the Purebreds, or Pure or whatever, being less than appreciated in the city.
Pushing that into the back of my mind, I try and focus on the task at hand. Braymont looked even more depressing at night, even more so when we were nearly out of the limits of the town. The buildings sagged and resembled rotting trees, and to make it worse it seemed like the ponies in the area just sat out in the cold and huddled around bonfires outside. There was at least a dozen flickering fires out on the street, with small strange shapes shifting around them weirdly.
The worst part was that I was getting tired of pulling.
And so, I poked Blueberry in the forehead, taking a bit of relish in her confusion.
“Bwah?” she said intelligently.
“Wakey wakey, Blueberry.”
She just pouted. Oh, how the tables have turned.
“Watchful, why? I was sleeping. It was a nice sleep, too.”
I just gave a winning smile.” It is dark, it’s cold, and I am tired. Time to pull your weight around here.”
It took her a few moments to get the joke in her daze.
“Oh, hah hah. Why do you need my help, anyway?”
I rolled my eyes. “Blueberry, the ponies here would probably try and shoot me if I came up to them. You, on the other hand, might be the least threatening thing in the wasteland.”
She apparently did not get that joke, considering she just smiled. “Well, I guess that’s reasonable. Just don’t do anything that could get us killed.”
I just nodded and smiled, hoping that Blueberry was going to stick to her own words.
It took us a few moments to find a place we could stay for the night. Really, we didn't like the idea of sleeping alone, and as it was it seemed like there was a tribe of ponies moving through the town, if the camp sites ringing the outer fringes of the town were anything.
The camp we chose to “sit in” was one of the farthest out in the town, near the edge of it. More importantly, it was also the biggest we had seen and had the largest fire. There were at least a dozen ponies around the thing, and going by the smell in the air, they were cooking pork.
Speaking of food, it was only when Blueberry began munching on a food-bar when I realized I had not eaten since we saw the tank. I wasn’t hungry, either, but I took one as well.
While stewing over that little fact, Blueberry trotted over to the ponies around the bonfire, Self Defense in tow. While I was first slightly concerned when the apparent leader, a big white buck, had a spear in his mouth while talking with her, she eventually waved me over to bring the cart to it.
The camp itself looked odd. There were at least a dozen sleeping bags and cots around the fire, and the whole place was ringed by wooden boards with everything to weapons, plates, drinking glasses and more. There was even what looked like a pile of cloths, suitably far away from the fire.
Even more to my genuine surprise, I was greeted with smiles and chuckles. Apparently, the ponies around the fire were a family, and less than half of them were actually adults. In fact, going from the fact they were actually clothed and looked well fed, I doubted they were locals at all, even more so considering that they seemed happy to see visitors. While I first thought I was going to stay quiet, a mare with greenish-brown fur actually attempted to talk to me without using any expletives.
“Hey there sonny, you from here?” Going by her smile and the chuckled from her peers, it was supposed to be a funny joke. I forced a laugh.
“Nope. Came up here from the west.”
She raised an eyebrow. “West? You sure don’t act like one of them minotaur’s from there. You don’t have a spear with you or anything.”
Well, that went downhill pretty quickly. “I am not from that group, but rather from a settlement near it. Its a few days travel from Braymont.”
She smiled, showing every rotten tooth she had, which were few. “Oh! I’m sorry, sonny! You must be a pride to your people then!”
Aaannnd then the awkwardness became palatable in the air. I just smiled and nodded, and she and her friends just laughed slightly and continued to eat some of the stew from little bowls. Blueberry chatted with them a bit, and she told them a decently accurate story, albeit one in which I had a life-debt to her and her name was Blue Bombshell. While I was stifling a laugh, I noticed one of the foals looking at me oddly, and I smiled at him. He gave a little gasp and huddled behind what might have been her mother. I was not sure if I was insulted or not.
Neverless, the general chat was rather informative. Apparently, considering that buildings here were too unstable to risk living in, there tribe lived on the outer fringes of the town, constantly wandering around the general area here and living off what they could trade or scavenge. When Blueberry mentioned that they could just leave, they became eerily quiet and that was quickly dropped. Yet, the ponies kept looking at Blueberry oddly, but considering they did not say anything I suppose we were still in the safe zone.
And so, over the night, the conversations become sporadic and less involved as more of the foals went to sleep in little cots, then followed by there possible parents, and so on and so on. I tried to remain distant from the little group, which worked wonderfully. I noticed Blueberry kept giving me concerned looks, but I assumed it was because of the general weirdness of the ponies we decided to join with. I frankly expected them to want something in return for us using there fire, but I supposed that we have actually found some decent ponies in the wasteland.
However, when a grey stallion carrying what looked like a bucket of water came into view, Blueberry quickly took a strange interest in him.
“Hey, where did you get that?”
The stallion, understandably surprised at the new arrivals to his family gathering, looked at Blueberry for a few short moments, and then at the sleeping forms of his family. Finally, as if getting a cue from his sleeping comrades, he gave a winning, diplomatic smile.
He spoke in an oddly stifled way, as if his mouth was not used to forming full sentences. “There is a place called an aquarium that has a lot of water that never freezes. It’s down the road, and it’s not as irradiated as the water you get from snow.”
Blueberry looked highly interested by that, but I was not sure why.
“The sounds nice.”
The stallion quickly shakes his head. “No its not. It is haunted. Spirits live there.”
Blueberry, after a few moments of thought, smiled broadly. Hopefully is was genuine. “Okay then.”
The stallion, seemingly relived, went near the sleeping form of the green mare and lied down next to her.
As it turns out, the grey pony with the weird voice was the last one standing, besides Blueberry. I was about to warm my arms for one last time before heading to the cart to snuggle under the blanket we had before Blueberry hissed at me.
“Watchful, we are leaving now!”
I was mildly confused, but intrigued, sparing a glance at the grey pony who was standing a couple of feet away from the fire, facing south.. “Why? We just got here and we both are tired! Besides, they seem nice enough.”
She looked furious and spooked, and just pointed at the fire pit, which by now was just barely flickering. However, near the large brass pot, I noticed some interesting pieces of wood. Wood that was clearly not wood, or related to plants for that matter. Plants, for example, do not have eye sockets. Or hooves. Also, animals tend not to have a gold tooth or two in there mouths.
I looked at the stew pot, beginning to become queasy. Well, this explains the hospitality. My chubby companion could feed a family of four, easy.
Blueberry just continued to glare at me, and looked at the sleeping forms of the pony-eating ponies around us. Even so, I hope she did not start yelling. I did not want to deal with a bunch of ponies, evil ones or not. “I am not edible!”
No shit, Blueberry.
Attempting to get my mind off a food-related death, I decided to appeal to Blueberries scavenging tendencies. “Blueberry, want to see what’s in that aquarium?”
She stared at me, eyes softening. Oh, bless her strange little head. “Yeah, I guess. Actually, speaking of that, we could see if there is a functioning water talisman in the place.”
Well, that made sense. I guess. Wait, what’s a aquarium?
Reading my thoughts, apparently, was just one of Blueberry’s many talents.
“They were a sort of zoo that had fish in them, Watchful. If this one is producing water, that means that this one was advanced enough to survive two hundred years of nopony around to care for it. It would have a lot of magically hardened glass and stuff, so it should not be a tetanus-causing hellhole."
Well, that sounded good, I guess. I wondered what two hundred years of radiation could do to a bunch of fish, but I kept that niggling thought out of my head.
Nodding slightly, we both quietly snuffled over to the cart, leaving the possibly inbred friendly cannibals behind us to go to the possibly haunted water-filled ruin that said cannibals frequented often.
Frankly, at this rate, going by the radio’s news, the N.C.R’s existence, and the fact that we were in the middle of a rotting town filled with mutant tribal cannibals, Fillydelphia is starting to sound nice.
With those depressing thoughts in mind, I kept walking into the night, Blueberry's horn making ghostly light to show my path.