//------------------------------// // Part 2: Emerging Conflict // Story: The life and times of an Earth Pony. // by TheRealShadowFoot //------------------------------// Part 2: Emerging Conflict “Where there is land, there will be war”, quoted Terra to North as they were poring over their most recently completed regional map. According to locals, several tribes were forming loose alliances with each other because of the sheer amount of land up for grabs in young Equestria. Some ponies allied with others of the same breed, others yet met up and came together with those who shared ideals and beliefs. Through this, small dozen-or-so tribes merged into powerful forces of conquest, conglomerates of several tribes and factions. Over time, Terra and North came to calling those factions the “New Equestrians” and the “Old Equestrians”. New Equestrians valued the beliefs of exploration, trade, and fairness to all creatures of the land. “Old Equestrians” felt that there was no need to merge into larger communities, and felt it was their virtue to keep the old beliefs sacred and untouched. Ironically enough, O.E. was marginally larger than N.E. Old Equestrians often sought blood and battle to save their beliefs; New Equestrians were trying to establish trade routes and technological advancements that would drastically increase the life expectancy of all creatures of the land. North and Terra sided with N.E, as this was their personal belief. The pegasus brothers sided with O.E. They never wanted part of this war, but they could not leave their tribesmen behind. They were raised as such. Both sides of the once-tight-knit explorers prayed every night that they would never come face to face in open conflict. As the months of marching and negotiations came to years, neither side was willing to step down. Therefore, battle was almost a weekly affair, both sides suffering casualties. Even North, who shied away from open conflict, was adorned with a scar along his chest, where he got caught by a mean Old Equestrian’s horn. Currently, North’s side was heavily bandaged with nearly-fresh blood stains in the wrappings, where he caught a particularly nasty kick from a huge earth pony, even bigger than Terra. As he was taking a rare rest, Silver Platter tended to North. Terra was even more scarred, eventually almost losing an eye. His blade was no longer a brilliant polished shine, and it was adorned with blood stains from countless victims he never wanted to kill. He examined himself in a silver mirror he had found upon a young colt that had gotten involved in conflict. The young colt was not much older than 15 years, and Terra had tried talking him out of fighting, but the young colt was headstrong and Idealistic, and fought hard. Terra had no choice but to strike him down, sliding his short blade in between his ribs and into his heart, while the colt was distracted with North’s presence. Terra by now was tall and strong, standing a full head higher than most other full grown ponies. As Terra introverted into himself under a waterfall a few hundred yards away from base camp, he almost stuck North when he approached a little too quickly for Terra’s liking. “Terra, Terra! Where the hell are you?!” North called out and nearly ran face first into a mean looking blade. Terra awoke from his trance, eyeing North. “I thought you knew not to run up to me like that, North?” he said in his gravelly voice, putting away the blade into its sheath upon his side.In the increased conflicts, Terra had swapped out his longer, traditional blade for a shorter one. North looked rather excited, which was rare. North plopped next to Shadow, assuming an air of aloofness, in this rare respite between conflicts. Shadow wondered why North was excited. North piped up, “The Oldies have surrendered the western line to us, this means we can move in and begin cleanup and restoration, and some well needed R and R” he said to Terra, with a wink. “I hear this place has some of the best drink and food in this region, said to have magical properties even!” This meant he and Terra would be setting out soon, to the west line. This meant at least a few hours’ march, with he and North leading their squadron. North and Shadow now commanded an eight-pony squad of scouts and negotiators, and were always first to the line, first in the fray. Nine ponies it actually contained, for Silver Platter refused to leave his comrades’ sides. Silver carried his own Rapier, adorned with his family crest and name. His normally vibrant orange mane was now candy red, and he had admitted to his friends that he loved playing with his hairstyle by magic. Currently it was cut short, resembling the famous zebra haircut from the Zebra tribes of the south. With a disgruntled huff, Terra stood up, stretching his long, powerful legs and back. He was still hurting from the battle two days ago. He eyed the silver mirror, thinking about the young colt. He hoped his son would not have to live in a world of conflict, and had the same wonderful upbringing Terra himself had. He had kept the plate, as a chilling reminder of what he fought against. No young colt or filly deserved the young one’s fate. As Terra marched towards base camp, North trailing him, he shook some leaves out of his mane, and began conversing with North. North had a power over Shadow that always calmed him down, with his aloof demeanor and sheer ability to examine any grim situation and find hope or light in it. Shadow rarely ever got excited over R and R, but weeks of endless fighting and negotiating had drained him, and he would happily welcome the drink, food, and lovely young mares who admired war heroes. After some initial work was done, that is. The line was held relatively well by the local guards and militia, and minor damage had accosted the town or its people. As they approached the small town, noises of hammers, lumber, and shouts of construction orders rang throughout the town. The squad was charged with rebuilding the local barracks and mess hall, and they knocked the jobs out within the day. As they finished, Terra and North heaved contented sighs. Daylight was just dwindling to twilight, and so, Terra and North had time to kill. They went to the barracks with a couple bottles of some good cider, fermented for months, and some large plates of roughage and hay. They settled into their office and began conversing, reminiscing over the good times. As they sipped and chomped, they instantly felt all stress and hurt and worry melt away, allowing them to go back to how they used to be. They began telling stories about the time before war, when they were young, intrepid explorers, looking to have a little adventure. As hours wore on, so did the night, Terra and his cohort getting sleepy. They got up, each consuming a little more than they should have, and staggered out into the barracks, seeking refuge in the shape of large, meticulously made beds, that could easily hold three ponies each. These were C.O. beds, not the cots that grunts and underlings slept on. While the cots were comfy, there was nothing like an overstuffed hay and grass mattress. Soon, they were both out cold, snoring contentedly, goofy grins on their faces.