//------------------------------//
// The Talonhoof Assault: Opening Movements 
// Story: A Brief History of Equestria 
// by K9Thefirst1 
//------------------------------//


The Talonhoof Assault: Opening Movements



While Hearth's Warming and the founding of the Equestrian Republic had unified ponydom politically, one does not simply erase thousands of years of tradition and cultural conditioning in one day, or even one generation. Even though ponies were no longer divided, they were still segregated.

One prominent example being Star Burst. Even though he was the last foal Hurricane would ever father, and by all rights should have been welcomed with open hooves by the pegasi when he chose the Military as his career, and regardless of the fact that he proved time and again to have the intelligence, cool headedness and rationality of a great General, he was never allowed to rise above the rank of Lieutenant-Major. For decades he continued to smack against the glass ceiling as other, less qualified pegasi sailed up the ladder in spite of how time and again he proved in tests of aptitude and skill how he was the superior candidate. The reason? Because he was born a unicorn rather than a pegasus. The fact that he reached the rank of Lieutenant-Major only months before Hurricane's death in 50 AW would, to a cynic (though not without some strong merit), along with there being no record that survives of any other unicorn or Earth Pony who received so much as a commission, let alone to the same rank or higher, suggests that the only reason he got as far as he did was out of respect the pegasi had for their old commander.

All evidence suggests that his mother Clover the Clever was livid and insulted at the blatant racism, but there is no evidence that suggests that Star Burst ever considered using his mother's political or social connections to advance further. In fact, judging by his letters exchanged with Clover, his wife, and his daughter-in-law where the conversation alluded to the possibility, he found the idea insulting and dishonorable.

From surviving records, many ponies noted the racist standing policies in many walks of life amongst the Republic's businesses and branches of the government, and sought to bring  legal reform to curtail, if not outright remove, such practices. However, the resultant outcry turned out to be little more than a gentle murmur. And other than some debate in the last spare allotted minutes of the Senate meeting for the year of 75 AW and of Congress for the year 90 AW, and a bill that circulated and died an unnoted and ignominious death before reaching either House by 82 AW, nothing of note happened, and from the looks of it nopony really cared and wouldn't for some time. If ever.

Amongst the most outspoken ponies was a young unicorn by the name of Mimic. Born in 79 AW, ordinarily such a young mare would have been ignored totally. However, her status as Clover the Clever's protégé and at the time the intended for Star Burst's grandson allowed her to give a voice to her outrage. But either way the most she could do was maintain the coals of the debate, and no more.

Still, most civilians did not even notice any issues. The economy was rapidly climbing, the crime rate was lower than it had ever been before the Warming, everypony had food in their bellies and a roof over their heads, and other than the occasional dragon raid each day was just as peaceful as the day before. Certainly the fall of the Griffin Empire Remnant in 85 AW to a lone assassin named Talonhoof, who then began to bring the rest of the Griffin States to heel along with the Diamond Dog Packs, was unnerving, but ultimately it was a novel piece of news that ultimately could be brushed aside.

Unfortunately, hindsight would show that this event would be a major turning point in history, and a portent to darker things to come. Even before the assassination of the last Griffin Emperor and the murder of his family, Talonhoof was clearly working on a build up to power. According to Diamond Dog records and Lore Keepers, as early as 72 AW, and likely earlier than that, Talonhoof began reuniting the Mongrel packs via Ascension by Combat: the ancient method of honorably usurping power from the current Alpha in One-on-One combat. Using his brute strength and brutality Talonhoof was able to reunite two-hundred and twelve of the major packs, and force the smaller or weaker packs into the fold by intimidation alone. With him on the throne of the now defunct Griffin Empire, Talonhoof was able to use his own personal stature and his army of a revitalized Mongrellian Horde to force the warlords, petty kings, and generals of the thousands of Griffin successor states into the fold. In 92 AW the last of the break-away Griffin States were annexed into Talonhoof's empire, creating the largest contiguous state in all of recorded history. The name of this state has been a source of much debate both good-natured and heated. Only in existence for nine years, it did not live long enough to create a national identity, an issue compounded by the long animosity between the Griffins and the Diamond Dogs. Contemporary Griffins continued to call it the Griffin Empire, even though realistically the empire had been dead for years, and the Diamond Dogs called it the Horde Reborn. The Pre-Assault Ponies simply called it the Griff-Canine Empire. Historians however, call it everything from the Talonhoof Empire to Long Breath's famed term, The Bloody Sword Consortium of the Hippogriff Talonhoof Created with the Intended of the Total Destruction of Ponykind.

In any case, animosity between Talonhoof and Equestria was evident as early as 89 AW when he first enacted his "Mineral Acts," or as Clover called them: the Slavery Acts. All ponies within the borders of Talonhoof's realm and those of his vassals were to 1) have their property confiscated, 2) be imprisoned, and 3) sent to a life of hard labor in the multitude of salt mines within the borders of Talonhoof's empire, never to be heard from again and regardless of age. As the victims were not Equestrian citizens, neither Congress, nor the Senate, nor Premier Jelly Spine deigned to raise so much as a protest. Meanwhile Clover the Clever, half blind and at the ripe old age of 105, raised copious amounts of Hell to anypony who would listen. At first her protests were 'dually noted' and filed away. However, in 91 border citizens and settlers in the Claimed Territories were being ponynapped from their homes and put in the mines, to the outrage of ponies across Equestria. Diplomatic missives were sent almost weekly, but not a single one was given so much as a Return to Sender. In a near prophetic moment, Lieutenant-Major Star Burst is accredited with claiming that "With a bottomless pit as an ambassador, the only logical policy upon the mind of a nation's leader must be war."

But still, rather than prepare for the worst, the leadership of the Republic maintained Diplomacy, sending a small team consisting of two members of each pony race, each one a respected figure in one branch or department of the government or another, into Talonhoof's territory in 92 AW. And even after all communications ceased without warning and none of the diplomats were heard from again, not a single pony in the Legislative or Executive branches of government so much as breathed a motion to debate the possibility of war, even though harm coming to a foreign diplomat in one's country was, and still is, grounds enough for a Casus Belli.

Of course, not everypony was willing to let the sleeping dragon that was Talonhoof lie. In 95 a pegasus named Rash Blade and four others charged in with the intent of assassinating the Hippogriff and freeing the enslaved ponies.

Only Rash Blade would be seen again, stumbling into what is now Canterlot dying from exhaustion on New Year's Day of 100 AW. From the coroner's report, both his wings were not just clipped, but the bones crushed and evidently 'seared in oil multiple times.' All four of his legs had been broken multiple times and forced to heal incorrectly, and by the cuff-link scars on his ankles and around his neck, and the general state he was in, he had been forced into hard labor in filthy coal mines with little food or water for months at a time, if not years. What's more, his cutie mark had been flayed from his flanks, and sewn onto his right flank was a parchment with a chilling message for the Equestrian Government:

I Come.
Through the License of my Hate-Forged Will, I Come.
With my Wings and Talons I dominate the Base Earth as I Come for You.
I am the Scourge of the Spirits,
For if you had not committed great sins I would not exist.
My Air Legions shall darken the Skies.
My Dog Hordes will sunder the earth.
With my lance I will gut all I survey.
I am Talonhoof.
I Am Coming.

Out of nowhere, the Equestrian Republic found itself at the business end of total war. But nopony could have imagined the horror that was barreling towards them.


Coming Thunder

For the first few weeks, nothing came about of the threat, and after three months everypony in Equestria allowed the declaration of war to slip from their minds. However, given the thousands of square miles of open territory and the negligible population density of the area even today, it bears little surprise that Talonhoof's army went unnoticed by the Republic until it was far, far too late.

That said, that does not mean that no one saw the army. The Buffalo Tribes pass down legends of "shadows uncountable" in the skies. An army of griffins so thick that "e'en in the highest sun of the longest day, the sun could not show her face." And on the ground, "the very earth shook, and the soil disturbed by the digging of a thousand-thousand claws."

It would not be until the first day of spring, just as the ponies of Equestria were finishing up their wrap-up of winter, when the first confirmable clashes between Ponies and Talonhoof's army were to take place.

The place was a fortified military base/settlement colony named Applegeddon, approximately 425 miles west of where the small frontier town of Appleoosa now stands, and 800 miles west of the modern day border of Stalliongrad. At the time, the population of residents stood at about 2,500, which bloomed and shrank each season with the massive migrations of ponies heading west to establish a homestead. Dozens of other establishments dotted the trails across the borders, but Applegeddon was the largest. It was also the only one to have survivors that made it back to Equestria Proper to tell the tale, though only a few were able to speak of what they saw, and most of them were far away from the settlement when the attack happened.

As the defenders were all killed to a pony, and most of the refugees all died either by enemy action or the wilderness, or were so traumatized that no coherent series of events can be reconstructed with certainty, our only record of the Battle of Applegeddon comes from Rin Tin, Talonhoof's personal chronicler.

As was tradition, the Alpha Khan offered the defenders of the city the chance to surrender. The leader of the pony garrison looked upon our numbers and retreated into the barracks with his advisors to discuss options. According to tradition, the Alpha Khan would wait for the defender's reply. It was a tradition that stretched as far back as Fluffy, and there was no reason to think the tradition was not to continue, even if the new Alpha Khan was half-pony. So the others settled down and began to make camp in the event that the defender's discussion stretched on. The [Griffin Legionaries] looked disgusted at the display, but as they were our hated enemies, and outsiders at that, none of us paid them any mind.

The point became moot anyway. For as soon and the Khan of the defenders was inside his [Headquarters] , the Alpha Khan called for an all out assault. The youngsters hesitated but a moment. After all, Tradition dictated that Fluffy Khan waited for a reply before laying waste to a settlement. But us older warriors understood that Fluffy Khan and his successors were known to be liberal with what counted as a 'reply,' and so our older warriors responded at once, the Bird-brains for once acting as truly loyal warriors and did the same. Within moments the walls were ours and the city within minutes was as well.

It was hardly a glorious battle, as the defenders, while admittedly weak, were unmotivated, pleading for their lives after being disarmed. As the Alpha Khan's orders were to take no prisoners, they were slaughtered soon enough. Save, of course, for the Khan of the garrison and the not-warriors that seemed the kind to fetch a healthy ransom. Within the hour the not-warriors had fled to the plains. Our warriors went after them as well, though the birdies, as usual, did not revel in the massacre. As the proverb goes, 'one cannot be a warrior without first bloodying one's paws.'

Sadly, there was little in the way of plunder to be had. But the settlements and cities over the horizon was promised to hold great treasures, so the warriors were content to divvy up what was available. My great-nephew in particular was most pleased with the fine gown some girly pony left behind. I cannot say why.

The battle done and the spoils collected, the prisoners were lined up in the square for inspection by the Alpha Khan, the Khan of the Two-Bears High-Fiving Pack taking the credit in presenting them. However, the Alpha Khan threw himself into a rage and beat him senseless. The Alpha Khan then reiterated his orders of no prisoners. Taking Estelnehtar, the Alpha Khan leveled it to the thirty prisoners and slain them all, leaving naught but dry bones and whatever personal effects the ponies wore, along with horror-stricken warriors of both the assembled packs of the Horde, and in the Griffin numbers. After that, no one bothered to try and take prisoners. What would be the point in it if the Alpha Khan would simply kill them before even a ransom demand was made? However, it was the beginning of the warriors doubting that the Alpha Khan had plunder, slaves and territory in mind in this conquest. And as the weeks went on, more and more evidence came into the light.


The Assault Begins

When word reached the capitol, the ponies of the Congress and the Senate were reported to be stunned dumb. Then came the endless debate. A tiny few called for taking up arms, but they were drowned out by cries for how to appease the warlord and his army, and a large number declaring that the survivors, some standing right there in the room, were outright lying. And as the debate stretched on from days into weeks, more and more innocent ponies died under the sword, talons and claws of the on-coming horde. Precious few records of survivor testimony have stood the tests of time, but what little remains is unfit to print.

However, as the weeks dragged, the Mongrels and the Griffins both began to lose respect for their leader Talonhoof, though up until the end mutiny never seemed to grow beyond an idle thought. But that didn't mean that Talonhoof's soldiers enjoyed the dirty business they found themselves in. Within days their food ran out, and the rapid march they were forced on that their supply chain was hard in keeping up with the main forces. Thus the soldiers were forced to 'forage.' That is to say: Pillage everything that wasn't nailed down for supplies. And if it could be pulled up with a pry-bar, then it wasn't nailed down. And when that proved to be insufficient to supply the largely carnivorous armies with meat, they were forced to feed on the dead bodies of their pony victims. Rin Tin mentions a conversation with Talonhoof regarding the supply issue at the start of the Assault, who claimed that 'our battles will supply us.' It was by now clear just what he meant by that.

But as history has often shown, even in the darkest hours of war, odd, and often spontaneous acts of kindness and mercy between enemies happen. And as it became clear to the soldiers that their leader was more interested in specicide than in plunder and tribute, this would have naturally happened. At least, had Talonhoof not shown what would be the fate of those who defied him. Rin Tin once more supplies us with such an incident, just outside the borders of Stalliongrad.

Once more our armies came across another tiny pony village, and once more our warriors razed it to the ground, and once more not a soul was spared. Except for one. A young warrior in the midst of his plundering found a tiny girl pony child, hiding and afraid. Rather than kill her, he instead cut through the back wall and forced her to run for the forest beyond.

Around midday the next day, the Alpha Khan ordered the march halted. While this was not usual for the Alpha Khan, the warriors were grateful for the chance to rest. However, the Alpha Khan called out the name of the young warrior to come forward. When he did, the Alpha Khan ordered him restrained by his fellows. The Alpha Khan then produced a sack, and in the sack was the pony girl, squirming and struggling.

"So," he spoke, "I understand you spared this little one's life."

The warrior could not look up from the ground, even as the pony girl begged him to help.

"I did."

"This is treason. And treason is to be punished."

The ones holding the young warrior were told to hold him tight, going so far as to order his head forced in one direction and his eyes pried open, so that he would not miss the consequences of his actions.

The Alpha Khan then took a spear and broke of the blade, leaving naught but the shaft, twirling it before dropping the pony girl onto the hard ground.

"Before the business begins, I must thank you warrior. Despite the battles I've fought, I've not had the pleasure of dispatching a child yet."

The Alpha Khan then began to beat the child. Slow at first, with each strike being singly, then with more and more force and energy, each blow coming more swiftly than the last. With each smite the child screamed. And the brutality of it began to affect us all, from the young warrior, to the warriors holding him, to myself and even to the griffins. Soon no one could bare to see more. And soon we began to cover our ears to block out the scream of each hit, and when those fell silent, the sound of wet meat being tenderized.

Finally, after three-quarters of an hour, the Alpha Khan halted his beating of the dead pony, tossing the ruin of the spear aside before turning on the young warrior, now unashamedly weeping. He was not alone, though none dared let his sobs be heard.

"I am your Khan." the Alpha Khan stated. "My word is law. And my law is no survivors. To break that law is treason. And treason is capitol."

Without another word, the Alpha Khan plunged his talons into the soft belly of the young warrior, sending out his blood to join the pony girl's. His entrails littering the ground.

"Gather your things. We march. Leave him."

And so, the point well made, the warriors gathered their affects and began to march, none daring to defy the will of the Khan and look at, or let alone help, their wounded comrade. For many long minutes warrior after warrior passed him. Friends, family, all walked around the scene and did not look. Until, much time later, with the Alpha Khan long since go at the front of the march, a feather-headed griffin [Author's note: most likely a Griffin Centurion or even the Legate of a Legion]  paused before the young warrior. The Griffen put a talon on the warrior's shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. He then pulled his sword and cleaved the warrior's head in two. Exchanging a long and painful death for one that was quick and painless.

For months this went on, when finally the houses of congress made their first action, asking for a peace deal. With each dispatch sent with proposed terms, Talonhoof's answer was the same, heads in a box, presuming anything was returned at all.

Finally, the oncoming horde came within weeks of the borders of Equestria Proper, from Stalliongrad to the coast of Coltifornia, the border was besieged, and threatened to be crossed. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, of Diamond Dogs and Griffins stood ready to flood into Equestria and continue their inundation of bloodshed. Finally, the government could no longer sit by and wait for Talonhoof to go away, and thus Jelly Spine was forced to send in the army.

The Commander-in-Chief of the Republican Army at the time of the Assault was a pegasi mare at the age of 63 by the name of Blistering Gale. A student of the Celestine Academy of mediocre accomplishment, she nonetheless rose to the position. However, due to the century of peace it is suspected that the army's standards had either decayed or fell to political influences, as her record did not leave her as an ideal candidate, especially in the face of Star Burst's flawless career. And by her dismissive behavior towards the elder unicorn when he volunteered his years of experience, as well as her boisterous braggartism concerning Talonhoof and his army, one wonders how much of her motivation was due to her oath to protect Equestria, and how much of it was due to the chance to finally attain some glory that would no doubt put her on the same level as the late great Commander Hurricane.

One the first day of the month before the Summer Solstice, Blistering Gale rode out with the First, Sixth, Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh armies, five of the six formations of the Army of the Republic; containing the commanding officers of the entire military and upwards of a hundred-thousand or more soldiers, and leaving Star Burst in charge of the Twelfth Army. The Twelfth Army, derogatively called by the other, Pegasi-dominated, armies the "Tossed Salad Army," due to it consisting of largely every non-pegasus soldier in the military along with every pegasus 'unfortunate' enough to not be considered worthy of fighting by her fellow pegasi in the 'real' armies. Even as Blistering Gale took wing, ignoring him all the way, Star Burst continued to request, encourage, plead and beg the General to look beyond her own nose and think tactically about how Talonhoof's army fought. But, like many throughout history, he was ignored, and the massive army of the Republic went out to fight their foe before they could cross the Equus River, the Western border between the Republic and her claimed territories.

What happened after that has stumped historians for centuries. In defiance of orders from General Blistering Gale herself and the government of the Republic, Star Burst ordered his troops to gather their equipment and say their goodbyes to their loved ones. The next morning at dawn, they marched. Without the universal use of wings, they had a long trip ahead of them, and all the while couriers demanded their return  to their post.

For all of his some eighty-four years, sixty of them in the service, Star Burst projected himself as the perfect soldier and officer, hoping and no doubt praying that, somehow, someway, it would give the unicorn the recognition and respect he deserved from the pegasi of the army, on his own merit, and not due to whom his father was. And yet here he was, going AWOL with an entire army, marching without orders. Many theories have been put forth to his motivations for this one-eighty in behavior: Perhaps he had that 'gut feeling' that the worst was yet to come, and that his army would be needed. Perhaps after decades of being ignored and looked over while less qualified ponies advanced he snapped. Maybe there was a miscommunication. Tin Foil, largely as a joke it is suspected (and hoped), that Star Burst simply ate some spoiled food and had gas. Regardless, Lieutenant-Major Star Burst and the twenty-three thousand troops under his command marched out of the shadow of the city of Bitalia and towards Celestine, currently floating just beyond the Western Border of the Stalliongrad province, just forty-five miles north of the shared boarder with Coltifornia. Days beyond there was where Blistering Gale was taking her forces, and it would be days beyond there where the first clash between the Griff-Mongrel and Pony armies would fight.

No confirmable record of the battle has survived history, as Rin Tin was suffering from an inflammation of his gout over the time period the battle most likely happened, and while we know that there were survivors from the Ninth Army, they appear to have been towards the rear of the order of battle and thus were only engaged after Talonhoof had taken the field. All we know is that scouts from Celestine came across three stacks of corpses of the missing soldiers, some one-hundred or so feet high and on fire, a well-known, traditional atrocity of the Griffin Empire, used to shock an enemy into submission, and that two Griffin Centurions barged into the meeting of congress with a stone box, and in the box were two items: One, the butchered and dismembered remains of General Blistering Gale, and Two, a message from Talonhoof.

"Ponies. I offer you the leader of your army, broken and dead by my talons. I am coming. Expect me by the end of the autumn."

Immediately, Congress and the Senate put together a surrender proposal. First with a conditional white peace, which they sent back with the centurions. It was rejected. So they sent a second surrender, unconditional. This two was rejected. The surrenders grew more and more desperate as the days stretched on, ultimately resulting in total annexation of the Republic and the population enslaved. This last one Talonhoof did not reject with words, but with Celestine.


The Fall of Celestine

At sundown on the Summer Solstice, Talonhoof's Griffins of the IX and XIII Legions attacked Celestine.

The only surviving record of the attack comes from a farmer, who watched the battle with his grandson on a hill within sight of the city. Given the vast scale of Celestine, this would put them easily between three to ten miles or more away. And given additional evidence later in the account, they were more likely just under three miles.

There were so many Griffins, it boggles the mind. Hundreds, thousands of them, flitting about like gnats, lit up like lightning bugs with their torches in one claw and the light gleaming off their swords in the other, fighting the pegasi in a deadly aerial dance. And yet the Pegasi outnumbered them many times over. My boy cheered the Pegasi on, but the longer the fight went on, the longer something tickled the back of my brain that something was wrong, very very wrong. Finally, about midnight, I was about to wash my hooves of it and go to bed. But that was when the whole darn city blew up.

One of the great mysteries of the Griffin Empire was one of their superweapons. Called Griff Fire, it is described by ancient sources  as a liquid, jelly-like in consistence, and murky transparent yellow in color. It does not appear to be much; however, when lit, it proves impossible to snuff out, not by submerging in water, or by cutting it off from oxygen. At the height of its power, the Legions of the Empire would pump this substance through special cannons to coat enemy fortifications if on land, or enemy ships if at sea, and then ignite the Griff Fire. Within minutes whatever they wanted destroyed was nothing but ash. By the time of the Warming the recipe for making Griff Fire was long since lost to history, and all that remained were a few dozen barrels of the stuff that were at least three-hundred years old. We know that Griff Fire had a shelf life of a few decades, but if the Griffin historians are to be believed, that shelf life refers to the Griff Fire being safe to handle. After some seventy years, it is speculated, the compounds begin to break down into less stable molecules, presuming the Griff Fire was chemical in nature. If it was arcane, or worse a mixture of the two sciences, then all bets on just how the internal mechanics worked are off.

It is suspected that, in the months or even years before the declaration of war, Talonhoof had sappers infiltrate Celestine with these final barrels of Griff Fire, and poured them into one of the dozens of mind-bogglingly sized cloud water reservoirs of the city. Given that nearly the entirety of the modern day city of Cloudsdale could fit snuggly in one of these reservoirs, it comes as no surprise that nopony would have ever noticed. The most likely choice would have been the Leoneighdas reservoir. Reason being that, while certainly all of the reservoirs allotted a certain amount of water to forming the clouds that made up the city, the Leoneighdas was built and operated specifically for that purpose. Therefore, the theory goes, the Griff Fire mixture would have been aerated along with the water to form the clouds that formed the streets, the walls, the buildings, the very houses of Celestine, so that by the time of the Assault, Celestine was no longer merely a city of clouds, but a giant floating Fuel-Air bomb.

Additional evidence for this is in the farmer's testimony concerning all of the Griffins holding torches. While true the battle took place at night, astronomers have found that, on that date, there would have been a full supermoon. This, in addition to the fact that the Pegasi had traditionally kept the skies around Celestine clear of cloud cover, means that the Legionaries would have had illumination on par with a noon-day battle, rendering the torches superfluous and a hindrance. However, if the Griff Fire theory is correct, then Celestine would have only needed a single lick of flame from a single torch falling into the city to detonate the clouds.

Alternatively, another theory suggest that the torches were part of a ruse. Given the size of the shockwave produced by the explosion, any Legionary that was close enough to drop his torch without the fire being blown out before making contact, would have been killed instantly, and the soldiers of the Griffin Empire were not ones for suicide missions. This theory suggests that the Legionaries were feinting and goading the Pegasi into using the cities lightning artillery batteries, normally only used against much larger forces than what was waged that night. Their plan of action may have been to refrain from being so earnest in their attack that the Pegasi soldiers fire while the Griffins were in the blast radius, but not be so restrained that they stopped bothering with the battle. Finally, so aggravated with the Griffins' attacks, the captain of the city garrison might have ordered the Lightning Batteries fired. Just a single barrage would have supplied more than enough of a spark to detonate the clouds with only minimal risk to the Griffin soldiers.

But however the spark started, the result was the same, as the historical record continues:

And I do mean blew up. One second the city was up there, lazily floating as you please, and the next it was like the sun popped up with no warning. I turned to my grandson and put myself over him on gut instinct alone. What seemed like forever later there was a massive explosion, a wall of air that pushed the both of us back a good ten feet and shoved the air out of my lungs, and we were both gasping for air for quite some time later. Looking up, all the trees around us were uprooted and the north wall had been blown in and the south wall blown out. It was right around then when it started getting dark again, and against my better judgment I turned back, making sure my now crying grandson couldn't see.

Up where the city used to be was a giant shapeless black cloud, glowing like hellfire deep inside, rumbling like a thunderstorm that never stopped. And I also heard another sound over the rumbling. It's a sound that even now, six years later, I can't get out of my head. Screaming. Thousands. Millions of voices screaming. In fear, in pain, in rage, I can't say, only that there was a continuous roar of screams. And that was when I saw them. Little smoke trails, first one, then a couple, a dozen, hundreds, I lost count. Some had a little light at the end, falling through space. It was right about then when I realized they were ponies. Some on fire, some smoldering. All falling, all screaming. And those screams went on for many minutes before coming to a sudden stop, when those lights and dark smoke trails hit the ground.

It has been estimated that Celestine's footprint, had it been a terrestrial city, covered five-thousand, three-hundred square miles, with a population estimated anywhere from thirty to ninety million. Regardless of where or how the explosion originated, the detonation was trans- or even supersonic in nature, meaning the entire city was ignited within as little as two minutes, thirty seconds, with other estimates suggesting as long as three minutes. Anypony that somehow survived the wall of fire and compressed, superheated gasses that preceded it would have been suffering from at least second or third degree burns at best, to say nothing of their lungs being charred via breathing in the flames. After that the clouds they stood on would be vaporized for an instant before recondensing on any and all airborne debris, but just long enough for it to no longer hold up any pegasus atop of the clouds, and so they would have fallen straight through. Unable to breath and with wings to damaged to fly, everyone in the city not obliterated faced at least a minute and a half or longer, depending on how high the city was drifting above the surface, before crashing into the ground at terminal velocity. And along with the population, anything and everything that survived the fire fell straight to the ground as well. Statues, weapons, art, chests, dishes, toys, cribs, beds. Everything fell, leaving a debris field many times larger than the city they came from, all of it charred and damaged by the fall. The most iconic being the colossal statues of Celeste and Silus that dominated the grand plaza in the middle of the city, left in situ even to this day where they landed.

The destruction of Celestine could not have been more perfectly timed. Being in the middle of the night, everypony would have seen its glow even in the early morning twilight. And given the mix of the unknown properties of Griff Fire and the lingering magic in the clouds of the Ruins of Celestine, the massive cloud front that was once a city lingered and continue to glow for weeks on end, a beacon to all and sundry just what had happened, and no one could deny the event without looking like a fool.


The Battle of the Corridor

When the Twelfth Army marched across the Equus River, it was seven in the morning with the rising sun to their backs, and the ruins of Celestine in full view over the plains, before them. With that sensational sight before him and his soldiers, Star Burst ordered his troops to make camp. They had been marching for a month, and could use the rest while their CO and his officers pondered the situation and what their next course of action would be. The ruins of Celestine, by now a massive black cloud with a Hellish glow in the middle that was slowly being digested by the surrounding weather patterns, no doubt played a role in the discussion.

Hours later, the sentries sounded the call of ponies coming their way. An MP, his name lost to history but his diary preserved for posterity, was with Star Burst those harsh days, and was kind enough to record what he saw.

When the call went out, the Major instantly was out of his seat and marching for the front, breaking into a trot when the first of our fellow soldiers came into view, in fact I had to struggle to keep up with him. Eventually they could be made out clearly, and put simply they looked like Hell. Bloody, filthy bandages across their heads, their limbs, their barrels. Hollowed gazes in their eyes, coats unwashed in what seemed like days, an almost unnatural gait to their strides. As they got closer, the tattered remnants of the Ninth Army's banner could be seen distributed amongst the wounds of a group. The Major trotted up to the first soldier our group came across, and had to physically push on him to stop his march.

"Tell me lad. What happened?"

For what seemed like the first time the soldier realized the Major was there. He worked his jaw for a moment or two, but no words came out. Instead his eyes watered, his mouth quivered, and the soldier began to weep, his head falling into the Major's chest, who wordlessly embraced him and patted his head.

A minute or so later another, more composed, soldier, a pegasus with no wings, walked towards us, who the Major addressed.

"Son, which unit are you lot from?"

"Can't say, we're all mixed up. All I can say is that we're all that's left of the Ninth." he said, as he began to pass us.

"Well who is in charge? Who is the ranking officer?"

At that the pegasus turned to the Major and looked at his rank insignia.

"You are sir." And with that he left, continuing towards the camp.

The Major, from where I stood, looked utterly stunned at that. Weeping soldier still in his embrace, he turned to back towards the west, with the dark ruin of Celestine above and the dark pre-dawn beyond that. Then on the horizon we saw a mass of shapes, thousands, hundreds of thousands of them. The Major handed the soldier off to another of his comrades and pulled out his spyglass and looked at it for a minute and I saw his expression turn dark, intense. Determined I suppose. He looked at me from the corner of his eye and hoofed over the glass for me to look, then he barked for his staff to gather. Meanwhile, I looked into the glass, and I saw ponies. Lots of ponies, all of them civilians. Old, young, mares, stallions, foals, all of them appeared to be starving, or wounded, or both. In the minute or so I looked I saw no less than five die on their feet on the spot, only to be walked over by the ones behind. In short, I was seeing a mass of ponykind, a swarm of refugees who for all I could tell may have been marching non-stop since Applegeddon. 

After an hour, maybe two, the Major called for all refugees to get what treatment we could give before being shipped out to the nearest outpost, and all day and all night we did just that, even though a goodly number of them died within a few steps of the camp. At about eight the next morning, a wild thunderstorm was brewing beyond the Ruins, and a little bit after that we all heard the call we've been dreading all year.

"Claws and Paws dead ahead!"

We all turned around, and sure enough the Griff-Mongrel Army was dead ahead and closing, and what I estimate as a quarter million refugees still on the between them and the river, and us. Already I could see our troops backing up for a fighting retreat, with no pony questioning that we leave the refugees to their fate and we save our own skin. Everypony, that is, except the Major.

"To arms! To me warriors! Form a defense around the bridgehead! Make a corridor for the refugees, clear a path and get these ponies out! Hold your ground to the last platoon! Now! Now Now!"

It was madness. It seems like madness even now. Before us was over two-hundred thousand civilians before us, and beyond them was the army that had wiped out every resistance it had faced. And behind us was a clear path of retreat and a good chance to survive. And we were to ignore that and stand and die?

And it would have been madness, had it been anypony else but the Major. The Major who believed in us when nopony else did, who treated us no different from our brothers and sisters in arms, be they pegasus, unicorn or earth pony. And furthermore, we all knew how he was the Last Son of the legendary Commander Hurricane, and we were on the doorstep of the ruins of his ancestral home. Frankly, I guess we all wanted to inflict a little righteous vengeance on the monster that killed the city before us, and to stop the murder of our fellow ponies, we just didn't realize it until then. Even the survivors of the Ninth Army, who had no reason to follow the Major's orders, soon enough picked up their arms and joined our ranks.

Within minutes, Lieutenant-Major Star Burst's orders were carried out to the letter, and a corridor through which the refugees could flood through was formed, allowing the refugees the chance to cross the Equus without molestation from Talonhoof's forces. But that doesn't mean that it was made any easier for the troops, especially considering the stragglers holding up the flow. Soon enough, soldiers from the Twelfth Army and surviving elements of the Ninth went to work with relaying the elderly, sick or wounded to speed up the process.

Except for Star Burst, our MP friend mentions in his account of a chance look in the right direction at the right time allowed him to see Star Burst, who was well into his eighties by now, carrying an old mare and a foal on his back and running at full tilt through the corridor, and out pacing less encumbered soldiers not even a quarter of his age.

Within hours Talonhoof's army, and Talonhoof himself, converged on the Twelfth Army, even with refugees, an estimated seven thousand or more, still on the west side of the river. But despite being outnumbered, quite literally, thousands-to-one, the Twelfth Army and the surviving elements of the Ninth held firm, orders of "hold the corridor!" being heard over the din of battle, which soon enough became a chant or a battle cry while hundreds of refugees flooded between the lines. However, while the sides of the mob closest to the bridge were safe enough, the ponies at the rear were at risk of being slaughtered, so Star Burst ordered six battalions, one which he himself at the lead, rushed along the outside of the refugee herd and ran interference and distracted Talonhoof's army from the refugees. And it was here that Talonhoof and Star Burst one-on-one, for the first time showing himself in battle and there being a large enough number of survivors for us to have a reasonable idea of the fight.

Both combatants were beyond their prime, with Star Burst in his middle eighties and Talonhoof himself was fifty. However, Star Burst had been blessed with the same vigor that both his parents had, with the physical capabilities of a stallion half his age, and Talonhoof had spent his whole adult life at war. Star Burst's only advantages were that he had a unicorn's magic, and that he was fighting to protect his soldiers and the refugees. And by all accounts the Assault could well have ended that very day on the shore of the Equus River. On two occasions Star burst had flipped Talonhoof onto his back, winding him, and could have killed him, first with his sword and the second time with the edge of a Centurion's misplaced shield, which would have decapitated him.

Unfortunately, the first instance, Talonhoof was able to block the blow with his mystic pike Estelnehtar, and the second instance, where it is suspected that he was well and truly unconscious, however breifly, a burrowing Diamond Dog jumped Star Burst, distracting him long enough for Talonhoof's minions to pull him out of the battle. While the Griff-Mongrel Army could not be turned back, they were still able to by time for the refugees to cross the river before the Twelfth Army crossed themselves, and destroyed the bridge behind them, after which they began to march to Canterlot.

Considering the impossible successes Talonhoof's army had in all previous engagements, it almost seems incredible that An army of only twenty-plus thousand troops could survive a straight out fight when a force five times that was destroyed almost to a pony. However, the Discord is in the details.

First of all, the Griffins and Diamond Dogs on Talonhoof's forces had fought a major battle just a week or so earlier, and furthermore had been marching for six months solid with very little rest, and encouraged to outstretch their supply chain. In short, the troops were tired and hungry, meanwhile the Twelfth Army was fresh, and thus could but forth more resistance. An additional benefit of this factor was that Talonhoof's army, desperate for rest and food, could not be pushed further than the Equus River, at least not until the supply chain caught back up and the troops were able to rest. Ultimately this recuperation would last a month, allowing Star Burst, Mimic, and all of Equestria to build up their defenses.

Second of all, Star Burst's goal was not to fight and win a battle, but to run delaying action, in essence fighting purely a defensive fight. With little in the way of concern for formations and simply holding the line, the troops could focus more on seeing where the enemy was and not what part of a strategy he or she needed to do.

Thirdly, the armies Blistering Gale brought with her were over ninety-five percent pegasi, and probably purer than that, and thus could only engage in combat in one avenue of attack. Meanwhile, the Twelfth Army was predominantly earth ponies and unicorns in addition to pegasi, and with the addition of the survivors of the Ninth Army those numbers were much more even. That meant that while the Earth Ponies held the line behind their shields with their superior strength, the unicorns and pegasi could engage the enemy with their magic and with swords and pikes, providing a much more uneven mode of attack.

Fourthly, there is something to be said about fighting to defend someone against an assailant. Call it what you will, spirit, adrenaline, protective instinct, it has an effect on a soldier.

The Battle of the Corridor provided a morale boost when the army, and Equestria as a whole, was in desperate need of it. The destruction of Celestine, at long last, woke up the last holdouts to the reality of the assault. This war was not about territory, or resources, or even slavery. The only terms of surrender that Talonhoof would accept, many finally realized, would be the total eradication of all ponydom.

As Star Burst and the Twelfth fell back, the Lieutenant-Major ordered that every bridge but one across the Equus River be destroyed as soon as possible, and for word to reach out across all the land that warriors were needed for a suicidal mission. As he told his staff: "The war is lost. It is now time for the Resistence."