Princess Luna stared wearily down at the map and letters in front of her. They were not what she wanted to see. Fillydelphia’s icon had been switched from red to blue to represent the tentative hold that Equestria had regained in it following the diarchs’ cleansing of the Chaotic filth, but it was shaky at best. Once a city of perhaps half a million ponies, Fillydelphia was now in the hooves of less than two thousand militia and a hundred ponies of the Royal Guard to command them. She’d already gotten reports of hauntings, mysterious deaths, and other unexplained phenomena from her ponies there, less than two days into the occupation. It seemed that whatever magicks had been invoked there would not be so easy to pry loose. Luna and Celestia had even considered ordering it abandoned altogether. The enemy had proven to possess magic capable of warping armies from one end of the continent to the other. Who could say whether or not they would counterattack through another such portal? It was only the urgent need to contact other lands that had prevented them from burning the city and consolidating back to the country’s interior.
No word had yet arrived from the contingent assigned to Manehatten and no attempts to magically observe them had worked, so it had to be assumed that they had failed. This meant the bulk of the Royal Guard was gone – or worse, turned traitor. Chaos thus effectively controlled the entirety of western Equestria all the way up to within a few miles of Canterlot. Now the Princess of the Night and her sister faced the unenviable task of defending the remainder of Equestria with only a few thousand Royal Guard and what civilian militias could be pieced together in a hurry. They had already sent out Royal Decree #6782 to all remaining loyalist cities and villages: every able-bodied pony not already in certain war-critical occupations was to be considered drafted, effective immediately. Several hundred of the dwindling Royal Guard reserves had left Canterlot to oversee what hasty training could be provided. It was but the first of many changes the diarchs were instituting on Equestrian society in a desperate ploy to remake society into something capable of surviving this.
Decree #6783 reestablished capital punishment, banned for centuries as barbarism, for anypony caught aiding the enemy, worshiping Chaos, or in any way knowingly impeding the war effort. Decree #6784 placed Equestria under martial law for an indefinite period, abolishing all civilian and aristocratic authority in anything more than an advisory role. All power now rested in the highest-ranking military leadership. To oppose them was to oppose the princesses themselves – which was of course now punishable by death, or else whatever the ranking officer chose. Decree #6785 gave the government the right to move anypony to anywhere without notice or compensation. Towns and villages deemed defensively untenable were to be stripped of anything useful and abandoned. Refugee populations were to be removed from Canterlot immediately, shifted to new living space in the cities remaining in the east.
Of course, there had been resistance. Most ponies had known nothing but a free, easy existence all their lives, and to see their government suddenly strip all their rights away was hardly painless. The ponies of Equestria trusted the princesses – or, if Luna was honest with herself, trusted Celestia – but they did not trust the newly-created military dictatorship. That the princesses had established it themselves did not seem to have been noticed, or sunk in if it had. Protests rocked Canterlot for days on end as ponies demanded various things from their leadership. From nobles protesting the loss of their traditional powers to haggard refugees demanding the right to stay where they were, it seemed everypony found something worth getting out in the streets for. Only a joint public appearance by the diarchs – and copious use of the Royal Canterlot Voice – combined with a strictly enforced curfew had reduced discontent from a raging boil to a low simmer.
As if there weren’t enough problems already, paying for all of this would be extremely taxing on the kingdom’s finances. Wise financial stewardship for many centuries had given Equestria substantial bit reserves to fall back on, but even that would run out sooner or later. Meaningful economic activity outside a handful of vital industries had ceased altogether, and little of it was taxable in the first place. Confiscatory policies were to be leveled on the wealthy aristocracy, much to their great outrage. Fancypants and, much as Luna hated to admit it about the irritating stallion, Prince Blueblood had been invaluable in keeping the nobles mostly honest about their assets. In return for a cushy “military” job far from the front lines in the latter’s case, of course.
With Celestia out personally supervising the buildup of Canterlot’s defenses and the clearing of the most recalcitrant refugee camps, it was left to Luna to deal with grand strategy for today. She sighed and rocked on her hooves, then crossed another handful of villages out on the map. The secretary beside her took careful note. The villages were too far from the planned defensive perimeter to be tenable. They were to be cleared at once. With a few strokes of a quill, Luna consigned thousands of ponies to homelessness and an even more uncertain future. She hoped she never got used to this.
…
“FOR THE GLORY OF CHA-AAARRRRGGGHHH!” a pony screamed as a sharpened rod of wood tore through the center his two right legs. He collapsed mid-charge, knife clattering uselessly to the ground. The large stake flew back around and levitated over his neck, pointy end down.
Twilight Sparkle executed the cultist with a vicious finality, wood piercing his throat and driving straight through his spine to dig into the dirt below. He briefly flopped like a hooked fish as his lifeblood poured out. Then his lungs released their final breath, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he was still.
Twilight regarded the corpse with a sense of utter impassivity that weeks ago would have wracked her with horror and denial. “That’s the last of them,” she said, more for the benefit of hearing her own voice than any other reason.
She stood in the ruins of some village whose name she didn’t know. She had found a trio of cultist scum picking through the murdered community, so she had killed them. It was a lot easier once one stopped thinking of them as ponies and starting thinking of them as diseased monstrosities to be exterminated. That they had been obvious mutants only helped.
Twilight looked in the direction of Manehatten, where had slowly been creeping over the past few days. Chaos patrols, if a pony could call such rabble that, had been increasing in numbers and frequency as she grew closer. While she was determined to save everypony she could and knew that time was of the essence, she also knew that drawing too much attention to herself would only lead to a pointless death. And so it was that despite her emotional side pleading with her to charge in headfirst, her primal instincts telling her to run for her miserable life, and her rational brain telling her that this was impossible, Twilight was slowly but surely making her way towards the city, determined to rescue anypony that still lived.
Her vision caught something in the distance, coming her way. She identified them easily enough. “Pegasi,” She ducked into a ruined building with a partially-intact roof. “Eight of them. Armored. Carrying… something between two of them. Heading this direction.” She ducked deeper inside and waiting for them to pass her by.
…
Fluttershy flew proudly over the works of Chaos, taking dark satisfaction from the death that had been wreaked below.
“Merely a taste of the carnage to come.” The thought was enough to make her grin beneath her new helmet, though she didn’t know if it was even hers. Since the day she’d pried the replacement from the corpse of a dark-armored warrior, she’d been hearing voices in her head, encouraging her to ever-greater slaughter in the name of Khorne. Fluttershy found that she didn’t much mind.
Behind her flew the seven remaining members of the Eightfold Ruination. Each a pegasus steeped in the worship of Khorne, bloodied in the Battle of Manehatten, and triumphant in gladiatorial matches, they were her hoof-chosen accompaniment on this mission. For all that she despised trickery, Fluttershy was not fool enough to discount it. It was possible the Rainbow Dash or Twilight Sparkle would violate her terms, and bring entire squads of soldiers or even a princess to ambush her. If so, backup was desirable. If not, then the Eightfold Ruination would stand aside and watch her work. She’d deal with the inevitable challenge afterwards.
Her wingmate was a hulking brute of a green stallion with a giant warhammer known simply as Ironhoof. Like all the pegasi in the group bar Fluttershy herself, he had adopted a new name after his rebirth in Chaos. Her second-in-command, he made no secret of his ambitions for leadership – which meant he would undoubtedly rise to challenge her the moment he sensed the time was right. Fluttershy welcomed the idea. Whatever the result, blood would flow, and the worthiest would survive to lead. Lord Khorne would be pleased either way.
Behind Ironhoof were the yellow Burning Heart and the white Skulltaker, a pair of mares infamous in the gladiator pits for their habit of eating their opponents even during their fights. Hound, a large red stallion with a mouth sealed shut by mutation, followed in their wake. Crushing Maw, a smaller blue mare with a long, poorly-healed scar down her left flank followed him. Bringing up the rear were Deathwing and Snarling Teeth, a grey stallion and purple mare, respectively, carried a bundle between them. In it was the heavily bound form of Applejack. Fluttershy planned to be as good as her word – the earth pony would be alive and healthy when Twilight arrived. Afterwards, she might even let her former friend go to spread the story of her triumph. Or she might execute her as well. Fluttershy felt flexible like that.
The Eightfold Ruin flew low so as to offer a better view of the ruined land. To followers of Khorne, it was considered a good omen to start a journey by observing death already wreaked where one started. Also, it helped remind them of what lay ahead, hopefully keeping any thoughts of immediately slaughtering their comrades at bay. Hours passed as they flew east, occasionally pausing to baptize their journey in the blood of whatever unlucky fool they laid eyes on.
It was while scanning the ground for more victims that Fluttershy spotted something familiar below. Three heavily-mutated somethings, to be precise, running westwards along the ground at supernatural speeds. A chill shudder passed through her helmet as whatever spirit it contained recognized its kindred, cloaked in flesh.
“The possessed,” Fluttershy realized.
Lord Qesh had sent them on a mission to hunt down and eliminate Twilight Sparkle themselves. That they still existed in the material realm was proof that they had not yet done so, for completing their task would dissolve the fragile bonds holding the daemons to the flesh of the Royal Guard. Fluttershy could have let them pass. They were under orders from her sworn lord, after all. The two groups shared the same mission, perhaps even the same god. But that would have meant allowing another to claim the glory of the kill, to cower away from a fight and so fail the Skull Lord. In the end, it was a choice between following Lord Qesh, and following Lord Khorne. And that was no choice at all.
“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!” Fluttershy roared as she folded her wings back and dived. “SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!!”
Echoing her cries of praise, the remainder of the Eightfold Ruin joined her in the plummet, save two. Deathwing and Snarling Teeth, with great reluctance paused to toss Applejack to the ground from a survivable height before plunging after their leader.
“MAIM KILL BURN!!! MAIM KILL BURN!!!” the pegasi screamed as the barreled down on their prey at blistering speeds.
Fluttershy hit the lead daemonhost like a ballista bolt. The creature with bat wings formed from a protruding spine rose to meet the challenge with an eagerness and aggression almost equal to the pegasus’ own. She slammed into it with a perfectly-timed ax swing. The extreme force behind the blow split the creature’s sternum and sent it crashing right back into the ground as Fluttershy pulled back up for another pass.
Ironhoof, Burning Heart, and Skulltaker hit a second daemonhost, wisely avoiding the one their leader had claimed for her own. The creature reeled under the withering assault. Ironhoof smashed his hammer down onto its spine with all the strength of a bull dragon. Purple blood and bits of yellowed bone splattered all over the stallion. Burning Heart pointed her sword straight at the creature’s eye, jamming the blade all the way through its skull and back out again on impact. Skulltaker ran her spear through the monstrosity’s guts and straight into the ground, pinning it.
Hound and Crushing Maw took the final possessed pony. Hound opted to fly past its side, taking a swing with his axe and carving deep rents in its side. Crushing Maw, with all the suicidal aggression that had earned her her scar, simply tackled the hideous thing. She was much the smaller of the two, but such was the speed she had built up that pony and daemon alike tumbled and rolled along the grassy plain.
The two final pegasi plunged into combat. Deathwing charged the daemonhost already surrounded by three of the Khornate warriors, twin swords held in front like an arrow point. Snarling Teeth was much less wise. Screaming incomprehensibly, she ran the spear she carried hard into the first daemonhost, the one Fluttershy had attacked.
Such a direct challenge to her authority only served to enrage the yellow pegasus even further. Howling like some daemonic wolf, she dropped straight down, all thoughts of tactics or self-preservation forgotten in her burning desire to punish the interloper. Snarling Teeth barely had time to look up before an axe imbedded itself in her brain. Fluttershy’s vision turned to a red haze at the kill, the blessing of her god upon her. All she saw was daemonhost in front of her, it’s very existence a mockery and an intolerable insult.
Screaming incoherently with the raw hatred of the Warp flowing through her, Fluttershy attacked with blistering speed. The daemon’s spiked tentacles, glistening with otherworldly poison, swung at her, but she didn’t care. Her battered and mismatched armor deflected the blows, boney points gouging fresh scars into the steel plate. Fluttershy hacked madly at the tentacles, ax swishing with greater speed than it had any right to. One tentacle came off, then two. Fluttershy crushed them carelessly underhoof, oblivious to the spikes driving themselves in and injecting venom.
The beast back away, allowing its formidable regeneration work its miracles. Already the sternum where Fluttershy had landed the initial blow was almost whole again, the severed tentacles starting to bud back. But she gave it no such chance, pressing forward its face without hesistation. Still more tentacles lashed out, seeking the vulnerable gaps in her armor. Fluttershy bit down on the spike-encrusted tentacle tearing across her chin. Yet more poison was injected into her body as the flailing thing tore open the roof of her mouth, but she simply tore it off with a twist of her neck and spat the black thing onto the ground.
A clawed limb that had once been a pony’s hoof shot out in a blur. Fluttershy twisted around it, feeling the sharp bite as the obsidian-colored claws cut open the flesh of her flank. She brought her axe down on its wrist, severing the claw. Yet more purple-black blood oozed from the wound. Fluttershy body-slammed the daemonhost, staggering it. She smacked it across the cheek with the flat of her axe, audibly breaking the spine with the strength of the blow. A tentacle wrapped itself around her right hoof, pinning it in place. Fluttershy’s body was starting to burn as the daemon’s poison took effect, but nothing mattered to her. Nothing except this creature’s death.
Fluttershy thrust her face forwards, biting deep into the enlarged eye socket of the former pony. She tore out most of a disgusting, gelatinous orb that tasted of rot and mucus. She spat it right back in the daemon’s face. It seized her left hoof in a newly-regenerated tentacle, lifting her off the ground as it opened its maw unnaturally wide. Fluttershy kicked its teeth with both her back hooves. It staggered again, and she yanked herself free. Still screaming praises to the Skull Throne, she jabbed its throat with the pointed end of her axe, leaving her legs exposed. It bit down hard on her left front leg, cracking enchanted armor and bone. The daemonhost swung Fluttershy around like a ragdoll, supernatural strength easily enough to slam her into the ground again and again. Still she would not give in, swinging the axearound with her right hoof straight into the thing’s neck. Its jaw popped open as the ax crushed much of the bone, and she tumbled free.
“SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!!” Fluttershy shrieked as she yanked the weapon out and swung at the neck again and again. The second blow cut open the neck even further. The third sliced through the spine. That was finally enough – with a scream of what might have been pain or ecstasy, the daemon released its hold on the mutated flesh. Smoke poured from every orifice and dissipated into the air to the sound of tortured wails. The useless carcass flopped to the ground, its animating spirit gone. But Fluttershy didn’t stop. Four, five, six, seven times she cut into the mutant neck until the head came off.
“SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!!”
Fluttershy whirled, seeking new opponents. There was another dead daemonhost, surrounded by the scattered bodies of Burning Heart, Skulltaker, and Deathwing. She saw the viciously mangled corpses of Hound and Crushing Maw next to the final daemonhost. Ironhoof stood triumphantly over the badly wounded thing, hammer raised high. With a great cry, he brought the spiked thing down on the possessed pony’s head, shattering the skull and the daemon’s hold on reality. To Fluttershy’s damaged mind, he had just stolen her kill.
With a shriek that sounded positively daemonic itself, Fluttershy threw herself at Ironhoof. He was bigger, less wounded, and had a heavier weapon. None of that mattered. Her tackle knocked him off his hooves and sent his hammer flying.
“What are you doing?!” he shouted in her face. He had never understood, Fluttershy realized. Never truly. Never as she had.
“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!” Fluttershy roared as she brought the ax down on his head. The stallion’s skull split in two under the force of the blow, and his twitching carcass slumped back.
Fluttershy screamed her triumph to the heavens just as her body finally realized it was mangled and collapsed.