//------------------------------// // TPK // Story: My Iron Warriors: Ordinance is Magic // by Perturabo //------------------------------// She swerved and ducked, forcing her head down as her hooves stretched out in front of her toned body. Rainbow Dash felt tears prick at the corners of her magenta eyes; they weren't tears of sadness, though given her current situation the Pegasus couldn't have been faulted for wanting to break down and sob. Rather, it was her body straining to cope with the g-pressures exerted upon it by the speed and velocity of her flight. The lean, defined muscles of her wings beat furiously as they struggled to keep her propelling forward, and she could almost hear the pound of blood pumping to them roar in her head. The roar became real. She dived, spreading her wings in an impromptu parachute to slow herself as she rapidly changed direction. The Heldrake didn't have the luxury of such a swift turning circle and kept hurtling forward, more licks of green fire escaping from its jaws. It swooped down as it passed, unleashing another torrent over the shouldering ruins of what she had one called Ponyville. Rainbow bit her bottom lip hard, if only to stop it from trembling in a momentary slip of character. When - if - all this was done she would allow herself the luxury of breaking down, but until that moment there was still work to be done and battles to be fought. She couldn't see the dragon's twisted twin, but knew it had to be around there somewhere. She almost felt like kicking herself in the gut in frustration. Come on Dash, how can you lose something like that, ya knucklehead? Her question was answered in a matter of moments; the town hall exploded in a shower of loose timber and debris as the second wooden machine burst through it, casting a long shadow over the few Ponies that still remained huddling in the town's wreckage. Her friends were down there, she realised with a pang of guilt. If she really, really wanted to, she could fly too fast for anything to have a hope of catching her...but none of her friends had that luxury. Not even Fluttershy; that is, if she wasn't...wasn't... Casting off the grim image, Rainbow once again resumed her flight to evade the Daemon Engine. Not for the first time that day, she muttered a curse on all Iron Warriors, though it came out as little more than a random series of splutters. The seconds-long break hadn't given her much chance to drag air back into her starved lungs, and even with her athletic prowess Rainbow knew she could only keep going for so long. The dragons were seemingly tireless, utterly devoid of the need for rest or pause. Her new pursuer snapped at her blue heels, and it was only a honed sense of fear and self-preservation that allowed Dash to keep those all-important centimetres ahead. The first Iron Warrior death machine had turned now, the sport to be had on the battlefield below or in Ponyville seeming to lack in comparison. Had Rainbow looked, she would have born witness to a sorry sight. The ranks of Equestria's fighting machines, the Steam Tanks that had underwent so much development and been such a source of pride for the Guard's generals lay shattered and broken, smoke billowing from their cracked engines. Some still blazed from where gun or dragon fire had caught them. All around the mangled craft lay corpses, hideously rent, torn open or near-atomised. By and large, they were nearly exclusively Ponies, many with hideous wounds gouged into them or seemingly having exploded from within. There were, at best, two Space Marines; not enough. Not nearly enough. Her best chance to eke out vital extra minutes of survival seemed to lie upward, and so Rainbow Dash climbed as she flew, outstretched hooves pointed straight to the red-stained sky. The feel of rain, or what she hoped was rain, pattering off her face and running off her body almost burned, and were it not for the altitude she would have cried out. The only advantage was it blurred some of the girl's vision; she couldn't see the eldritch shapes that twisted and cavorted in the skies. A familiar plume of multi-spectrum light trailed behind the mare as she rose higher and higher. The sight could almost have been considered poetic, had anypony been able to safely observe it - a tiny beacon of light ascending straight and true, surrounded and engulfed by the two monstrous and dark shapes that assailed her. Even with the whistle of winds in her ears, and the almost sentient roars of frustration from the dragons following her, Rainbow could still hear the thud of each tread taken by the wolf-headed monstrosity that stalked the world below. She hadn’t even the slightest idea of where they’d found that thing, or even what it was, but she was intelligent enough to realise the threat it posed. The machine stood a good 14 metres high, even in its hunched form, and considering the size it moved with surprising swiftness; like a wolf let off the leash, running down its prey. In this case, it seemed to be Canterlot, the thing still crashing its way clear of Canterlot in an attempt to make straight for the city. In some ways, that could almost be a good thing; if anyone had the power to take this thing down, it was the Princess. On the other hoof, neither of them had been particularly committal so far. She arrested her ascent as her vision started to swim. The air was thin up here, even with what she was used to, and Rainbow took the opportunity to cast a glance downwards as her heart beat furiously against her ribs. She’s been going faster than she’d thought; the two Heldrakes were left almost in the dust, blazing eyes almost pinpricks against the blacks. As she observed, a thought struck her, gnawing away at her mind like a worm. Perhaps it was only the lack of oxygen that brought a moment of supposed clarity, but all of a sudden, rainbow dash realised what she had to do. She looked down, unable to prevent herself gulping. Were one of her friends up here, they would almost certainly try to stop her. Pinkie and Fluttershy would cry and plead, Applejack would speak sternly with a hint of affectionate worry, Rarity would no doubt have thrown a dramatic fit, and Twilight…Twilight would have momentarily abandoned logic in favour of rising, desperate panic. It was one of her regrets; that she had always had trouble listening to her friends. As she watched the dragons climb, she found she also thought of Spike. Sadness crept over her; a feeling of shame, like she should have got to know him better. He might already be dead down there…had he died believing she just thought of him as twilight’s lackey? The thought affected her more than she liked to admit. Bizarrely, the briefest image of Rorke flashed through Rainbow’s head. For once there was no hatred there; only a strange pity at his shakes and madness, and loss of self. With a calmness she’d never before known in her life, Rainbow set her jaw and closed her eyes. No-one would ever have understood why she was so accepting of what was about to happen. But loyalty didn’t need to be understood, she’d also found. It just…was. She dropped. Her wings were like two overclocking engines, beating furiously as they propelled her downwards in a head-first dive. Wind tore at her short hair, blowing it back and running along the contours of her body as the pace increased. Rainbow kept accelerating more and more, straining wildly against the laws of physics as she pushed herself far beyond mortal limits. The tears came back, but this time they were easy to ignore. If the beasts rising to meet her had any inclination of her plan, they made no effort to stop it, almost entwined around one another in some grotesque dance. Faster and faster she went, the sound barrier wailing and protesting around her. She had gone beyond pain a while back, an almost zen-like state descending upon her mind as the world shot past. In spite of what was rushing towards her, for the first time that day, Rainbow Dash smiled. Their collision was like an atom bomb going off. Something gave, one final push sending her over the edge. Rainbow’s world exploded in a haze of light as the Sonic Rainboom blossomed into existence behind her, illuminating all of Equestria’s sky with all its myriad hues for one final moment. At the last moment, the monsters seemed to realise what was happening, feral eyes shrinking in what almost seemed like fear. They tried to disengage, to pull themselves out of her flight path, but it was too late. They smashed together like two angry stars, chaotic hatred given form meeting the spear of blinding light. The force sent a shockwave throughout the land, rustling the few trees that still stood and sending ruins tumbling further into dilapidation. A supernova of rainbow-tinged energy grew in the sky, expanding to consume all as the daemonic forces confined within the wooden bodies of the Heldrakes were unleashed. It persisted for several, beautiful moments, before receding and imploding with a ‘pop’. Blackened timber fell to the ground, like leaves from a tree at the changing of seasons. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- It wasn't, Applejack had found, the screaming that was the worst bit. As awful as it sounded, you got used to that after a while. You could forget it, push it to the back of your mind, let it meld with the rest of the music of the Apocalypse that played around her. She didn't like the screaming, but at least you expected it. No, the worst thing was the silence. Their guns chattered and growled like angry beasts, whilst the swords revved and whirred as they hacked their way through soft pony hide. And yet, every time she'd seen them since the attack had started, the Iron Warriors had not said a word. She knew they must be speaking, of course; how else could they have co-ordinated this without? Yet whilst they fought and murdered, and the ponies died, the only acknowledgement they got from the aliens was the occasional gruff, baritone chuckle. It was like they didn't even care. Of course, they probably didn't. From what the farm girl understood, all of this must have come very naturally to them by now. But somehow the almost bored silence they maintained, the cold, clinical professionalism with which they eliminated objectives and targets, contributed to the sinking feeling in her stomach more than anything else. Well, nearly. There was that one RD knew; the one who screamed all the time. But they seemed to have lost track of him a while ago, which at least in the short-term was nothing but a benefit. Applejack's attention snapped back to the present as the ground shook again; another step from the titanic monstrosity outside. Granny Smith had nearly had a heart-attack when she'd seen it. In all honesty, so had Applejack, but she'd been trying her best to remain calm and collected throughout the whole thing. Her mind kept straying onto Applebloom; the Crusaders hadn't been seen in weeks by now. She hoped against hope that they were okay and safely out of harm's way, but the Earth Pony found she was forced to expect the worst. It seemed to be the way with Iron Warriors; they wouldn't stop, no matter how low they had to sink. Rarity's murder had proved that...she bit her lip, as she realised she was crying. Her and her fashionista friend had hardly agreed on anything in their life, but she'd have sacrificed herself in a moment to bring the unicorn back now. Another rumble. The wooden walls of the farmhouse shook, the noise of pans and pictures hung there clanging against the timber. She took a deep breath, dipping down behind the table they'd erected as cover and trying to calm down even a fraction. They'd boarded up the windows and managed to form some form of barricade in front of the doors, but it wouldn't be enough. They all knew that as well, but the shelter still provided a measure of comfort in the face of the oncoming madness. For that, if nothing else, it was worth it. "Y'alraght, Big Mac?" She asked softly, trying her best to form a reassuring smile. her brother sat with his back to the table, seeming to stare blankly forward into nothingness. "Eeyup." He replied. Something in his tone made her grimace. "Yah sure?" There was a pause. "Ee-nope." "Hey, now." She said, patting him on the foreleg. It wasn't always easy being the middle sibling, but she tried. "Dont'cha fret now. Everythin's gonna be fahn and dandy, you'll see." He looked at her for a moment, face clearly doubtful. "Do ya really believe that?" She only held his gaze for a moment before looking down, fighting the urge to bury her own face in her hooves. "No...shoot, Big Mac, no ah don't." "It'a alraght, lil sis..." He comforted, edging closer and resting a hoof on her shoulder. She fiddled with the edge of her hat, allowing the stallion to pull her into a hug. “No.” She said, unable to keep the weariness from her voice. It occurred to Applejack just how tired she was; the past few weeks had been especially rough, but ever since the coming of the Iron Warriors she’d been sleeping less. “It ain’t.” Her knowing, green eyes looked at him. “We ain’t getting’ outa this, ah don’t think…ah just hope the girls are okay.” It was a longshot, she knew, but the thought that anything had happened to them was…unbearable. “Ah hate them.” She sniffed, unable to keep some child-like petulance from her voice. “All of ‘em, every last dog-gone Iron Warrior…it ain’t fair. We didn’t do anything to them…” Big Mac had been about to respond when another scream broke the moment they shared. They were all terrible, each one unforgettable, but this one stood out as something especially agonised. In spite of what would have been her better judgement, Applejack took a peek over the barricade and out the window. Doctor Wellwhinny cried out in pain once again as the flames that now coated him burned with greater intensity. They had tied him to a pole, erecting him in the Apple family yard like some grim parody of a scarecrow. It sickened her, how objectively and almost detachedly she considered it – how all the sights she’d seen had begun to desensitise her to the worst of the Space Marines’ atrocities – but the choice of coating him in tar and setting it alight seemed an odd choice to Applejack. Throughout it all, the Iron Warriors had been methodical and pragmatic; merciless certainly, but never given to outright displays of torture. The only possible option she could conceive was that it was meant as a psychological weapon; she could see it, and they knew she could. Alternatively, maybe the Iron Warrior in question just enjoyed it. He turned, red eyes like two pinpricks of hate even at the distance they were. Applejack gasped, her own pupils shrinking as she took cover behind the table once again, pulling her hat tightly to her head. The ground rumbled again as the daemon-machine took a step. He was coming. She knew it even without looking, breath coming short and sharp and shallow. The ironclad monster had bored of its depravity, and now had decided to end the game they were playing. She squeezed her eyes shut, muttering a half-remembered prayer to Celestia under her breath. Big Mac gave a heavy sigh, taking up a rake in his mouth. It wouldn’t stop the Chaos Marine, probably not even slow him, but the sight of it did comfort the Earth pony a little. “Hop to it, young’uns.” She looked up sharply as Granny Smith spoke. The old pony had hobbled into the hallway with surprising quietness, making her way over to sit back in her favourite rocking chair. She sighed, contentedly, as she dropped, snuggling back into the cushion slightly. “Nuh uh, no way Granny.” Applejack said firmly, trying to assert some measure of authority. “What the hay are y’all still doin’ here? Ya should be hidin’!” “Ee-yup.” Big Mac attempted to contribute, but it was muffled by the tool in his mouth. Granny’s response was to scoff derisively. “Oh fiddlesticks Applejack, you know mah bum hip. What am ah gonna do, hobble away from them?” She actually chuckled, leaning back on the chair. “But…Granny.” Applejack’s voice was pleading now, threatening once again to crack with emotion. “Those varmints don’t give a horseapple ‘bout how old y’all are…t-they’ll kill ya…” “Well…ah’ve had a good run, haven’t ah?” She asked, actually smiling at her granddaughter. “And besahds, something tells Granny they’ll be more than a might eager to get at you yerself, kiddo.” She laned forward in the chair as Applejack approached, gently wiping away one of the tears rolling down the orange pony’s cheeks. “We’re family.” She said, softly. “And family sticks together, no matter what.” The last of Applejack’s walls broke down, and with a sob she leaned forward into another, full-body hug. Granny rubbed her back soothingly, still smiling. “Besahds.” She said cheerily, still comforting Applejack. “Maybe he’s reasonable.” The door was smashed in by a ceramite-armoured foot a moment later. Big Mac leapt forwards, powerful hind legs carrying him forward at an impressive pace. The Iron Warrior swung his chainsword in a whirring arc as the red stallion approached. It passed through heavy, dense layers of muscle and bone like they were nothing. The two bisected halves of Big Mac fell neatly to the floor, blood polling around the intruder’s boots. Applejack screamed, momentarily lost to grief and anguish at the sight of her brother’s murder. She charged forwards incoherently, uncaring of what happened or whether she even survived the next few moments. The boot crashing into her chest brought her crashing back to sanity; it was a comparatively light blow, hardly any force put behind it, but Applejack still coughed and hacked as she slid backwards across the rough floor and into the table. Something was definitely shattered…a rib…maybe more. “Now then sonny, we’ll have less of that.” Granny Smith’s voice betrayed the shock and fear in her voice even to Applejack’s stunned hearing, but she tried to keep a firm tone nonetheless. “We all see that yer big, there’s no need tah be a bully dearie.” He was silent for a moment. Slowly, painfully, Applejack rolled onto her side, looking up at the towering monstrosity. Another painful groan rattled out her injured form. It wasn’t just an Iron Warrior; it was an Iron Warrior she knew. Varvillon’s helmet – so smooth, so untainted and undefaced like his brothers’ – tilted as he looked at Granny Smith. “Is she with child?” He asked abruptly, motioning to the prone Applejack. In any other situation, she may have blushed. “None that ah know of.” Granny replied. She was quiet for a moment, face growing mournful. “Well, ah suppose a smart boy lahk you knows that’cha just killed mah grandson.” “He stood against us.” The Iron Warrior answered, barely missing a beat. To Applejack’s surprise, Granny Smith actually chuckled. “Now then dearie, yah know that’s not true.” She said, with an almost motherly smile. “Nopony stood against any of yah. The only things that’ve been doing that are you.” She sighed. He didn’t reply. “Yah know, ah’m not just some silly old bird.” She said suddenly, voice oddly chipper. “Ah asked that nahce Twilight girl, Applejack’s friend, about where y’all came from.” She looked back up at him, and the expression in her eyes was the one Applejack had never expected to see. It was pity. “And ah forgive you.” She said, quietly but emphatically. “Shoot, maybe ah’m just getting’ sentimental in mah old age, but ah think that…deep down, yah know yah not these big evil villains. Deep down, yah just the same scared, hurt little’uns they took from yah planet and made into monsters…and ah’m sorry for that.” He still didn’t speak, regarding the old pony with the same unblinking red eyes they always did. Applejack stared up at him from where she lay on her side; her hat was gone, the bobble in her hair had come loose and let it spread wildly, and it was a fight just to control her breathing. In one motion Varvillon raised his pistol and fired. This time Applejack didn’t scream, though she did make a quiet gasp; fear and shock had rendered him numb. Muzzle of the gun still smoking, Varvillon lowered it, finally looking down at her. She stared back, eyes dead to every emotion except exhausted hatred. “Go tah hell.” Applejack told him, refusing to look away. She’d expected a chuckle from the Space Marine, but he continued to just stare. “Where do you think we come from?” Varvillon asked, before he slammed a foot down on her skull. He stayed for a while, looking at the bloody and tattered messes that littered the farmhouse’s floor. After a few moments, a boom shook the sky and rocked the building’s foundations. He looked up, just noticing a flash of rainbow light spreading across the sky out the window. It meant the Heldrakes were probably destroyed, but by this point, that hardly mattered. Something caught his eye as he turned to leave. He stopped, running a gore-flecked gauntlet over the protruding leaves of the plant sitting on the hallway table. It was common, but no less impressive for that. He made a mental note to finish his annotated diagram of one later. “Moving onto next tasking.” He spoke into the vox as he left, exchanging pistol and sword for bolter. The slide ratcheting back and his footsteps were the only sounds that filled the now-quiet farmhouse. “Let’s see if we can make it two-for-two.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She wasn’t a fool. Maybe she seemed that way to some, but she wasn’t. Even in her frantic, panicked state, Pinkie knew what the explosion of light burning the sky up meant. She’d seen it two or three times before, by now; each of those had been an experience of joy, a herald of new things to come. Now it seemed more like an ending. The sight of the two wooden beasts shattering apart had brought her a moment of hope, but then reality set in. Even so, she hadn’t cried when she saw only wood fall to the ground; her pride was too great. Pride in Rainbow Dash, who right to the end had stayed true to her Element of Harmony. She was finding it hard to laugh right now. She ran now, not hopped. She’d ran through the streets of Canterlot, when ponies, changeling and Space Marines had clashed, and she ran again as the world seemed to end around her. It was an indication of how serious things were. A memory floated back to her, one that she’d almost lost. The first adventure she’d gone on with the girls, how they’d nearly let their fears overcome them – she’d laughed them, taught them her Granny Pie’s song about laughing to make her fears go away. It seemed foolish, now. She loved her Granny, but she’d never been clear about what Pinkie should do if her fears wouldn’t just ‘disappear’, and were very capable of hurting her. She ran into the old market place, casting an occasional fearful glance behind her. The sounds of bullets and swords had begun to rescind by now, becoming only fitful and sporadic. What was more prevalent was the crackling of flames; the houses, stores, stalls, everything was cracked and burnt around her, little better than husks. The billowing smoke rising obscured her vision of anything outside the square, though it did help shield the pink pony’s eyes from the crimson tide of madness that now substituted for Equestria’s sky. She dived behind the remains of one of the market stalls, cowering for a moment, before galloping behind the stone well. It was wide and deep, and even with some of the stones rendered little more than debris, Pinkie found she could lie prone and hide easily. She tried to calm her breathing, formulating a plan. If she could just make it to the Library- A noise snapped her attention back. She raised her head, squinting to look round the clearing. It came again, unmistakeable now. It was high pitched and frightened, the noise of a child. Thoughts of self-preservation gone for the moment, Pinkie ran from her shelter, tracking the noise to its source. She found it in a wooden heap that used to be a vegetable stall; the small, blue colt cried out again, trying desperately to move his trapped leg. His eyes went wide as he saw Pinkie approach. “It’s okay!” She called out, already starting to heave the refuse off him with surprising strength. “Don’t you worry, little guy. Pinkie’s here, I pinkie-promise everything’s going to be fine!” She worked quickly, for once entirely focused on what she was doing as she worked to free him. It didn’t take long until the little foal’s trapped leg was free; he bounded out the wreckage, quickly running to wrap his hooves around Pinkie’s neck in a hug. “M-my name’s Archer.” He stammered, pressing his face into her shoulder. She rubbed his back, and for the first time today, Pinkie Pie smiled for real. He leaned back, little blue face smiling back, seconds before the bullet took his head off. She shrieked as his body flopped, spraying blood all over her face and hair. Some splashed into her eye, but Pinkie didn’t notice as her shrieks devolved into an almost child-like sob. She cradled it close, pulling it back into her chest and rocking it gently as tears rolled out her closed eyes and down her cheeks. It was a few moments before she relaxed her grip even a little, and she turned to look in the direction from which the bullet had come with furious, glistening blue eyes. Eight dark shapes slowly and methodically made their way from the enveloping haze. In the gloom and the flickering light source provided by the flames, their silhouettes looked more like horned daemons than ever before. They hefted a wide array of guns and deadly-looking weaponry, from the standard gun most seemed to carry to long-barrelled cannons or sparking claws extending from the knuckles. Behind them, one of their larger kin – the walking weapons – followed. Pinkie’s mouth went dry as she saw them, heart freezing. She couldn’t fight eight Iron Warriors. She couldn’t fight one. The one at the front, a Space Marine who bore no horns, reached her in short order. The others hung back, pacing almost leisurely through the shattered town square. The big one grunted, lashing out in a backward swipe with his massive fist. The last remaining market stall shattered under the blow. The one that had reached Pinkie turned back to look at it, placing a foot on her tail to stop her escaping. “Mature.” He muttered, a hint of irritation plain in his voice. Pinkie struggled, trying to pull herself free, but every motion felt like she would just end up ripping her tail off. Usually, she could have…she wasn’t sure, done whatever it was she did and got out of this situation. This time, however, no amount of Pinkie sense was going to save her. He looked back down at her, eyes impassive. “This is the second time in fifteen minutes I’ve been in this situation.” He told her, sounding almost bored. She didn’t answer, but her blue eyes did flick down to the boot pinning her in place; specifically, the crimson gore that was beginning to dry on it. He pulled the long chainblade from his belt, giving it a few revs. Seemingly satisfied, the Iron Warrior knelt, bringing his helmet only a few centimetres from her face. Pinkie almost gagged as she felt the hot breath emanating from the grille on the front blow into her eyes. “You all have your own special, unique talents…but you die just the same.” “Brother…” He paused as he brought the blade back, turning his head as another Iron Warrior spoke. Pinkie froze, panting hard as she kept her eyes squeezed shut. The sound of her heart hammering overpowered nearly everything, but she could just about hear…something. It was a motorised noise, like tracks pulling along the ground. Daring to open her eyes, she lifted her heard ever so slightly. The Iron Warrior kept his weight on her, but he and his kin seemed all to be focusing on the thing that rolled into the square. It was…like them…but not. Smaller, thinner, weedier. The pipes sticking out of it, and the tracks in place of feet, only further confirmed its strangeness. Oddly, Pinkie found she could guess what it was – more than once, she’d heard them in passing refer to ‘Servitors’, half-mechanical things that helped the Iron Warriors in their tasks. This must be one of them. The Space Marines cast each other wary glances, each of them seemingly as perplexed as the others. The one keeping her in place did not move, but two more advanced slowly towards it, guns held at the ready. It let them get close, almost within touching distance, before detonating. The explosives strapped to it were powerful, enough to send the two Space Marine flying from their feet. All of them, even the big one, turned away and raised a hand to protect their face from the blast. Shards of shrapnel rained down from the sky, a few cutting slices from Pinkie’s face, but the pain was hard to feel – she was almost detached to it by now. Marshalling her courage, and blinking rapidly to try and restore her vision, she looked back around as her enemies did with wide eyes. The steps rang through the square easily, each one drawn out and ominous. A new silhouette took form at the edge of the flames, but Pinkie couldn’t tell what it was. At a glance, she could see the two black pinions rising from its back – like some angelic wings ready to take flight. As it approached, she realised they were far from it, but no less welcome. Spikes and blades sprouted from the creature, slung and sheathed across it like it was some great porcupine. A chain rattled at its side, two horns seeming to sprout there in the gloom. She could see little more – a different kind of smoke enveloped it, this one heady and strong even at a glance. The only reference was a single prick of light, burning like a watchful eye. They stared as it entered the square, for once possessing no snide comeback. Pinkie stared to. Around the creature’s chest, almost like a bandage, was tied a red sash. “Morning.” Said Zuko, Aspiring Champion of the Iron Warriors.