• Published 20th Nov 2013
  • 2,213 Views, 33 Comments

FoE: Snippet Story - Windrunner



Set at various points in the Fallout: Equestria universe. Each chapter is intended to be a unique story unto itself. So many references, both ludicrously obscure and blatantly obvious. Even the title. No, not that. You will never figure them all out.

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Damnatio Memoriae

Half an hour to to war end:

The circle of zebras stared towards the center where one lone member stood in chains. All wore cloaks emblazoned with a small circular golden crest of two snakes crossing each others path. Their yellowed eyes glinted in the dark. Their leader stood forth and spoke grimly in a harsh sounding dialect thought entirely lost to the nation and to time. If any were to overhear it would do them no good.

"You stand accused of treason and heresy. Worse yet, you have gone too far in your mad bid for power. Not only have you failed us, Abraxi. If they but knew, you would have earned the enmity of all your kind. Did you think Caesar would continue to cast a blind eye? To look kindly upon these transgressions?" The circles and patterns inscribed in the ground around him were beginning to fill with a glowing blue liquid pouring in from two upturned cauldrons. He did not speak, merely returning a cold gaze which gave pause even to these members of the secret council.

"You shall be stricken from our hearts and memories. None shall herald your name nor suffer to recall your failure. Unlike you however, we are not merciless to our own. It pains us all to offer you anything. Have you any last request?" The words were practically spat at him. Slowly his icy gaze met each causing a shiver to pass between them. His voice was low and sharp.

"My fate was sealed long ago. You offer one last request even to me? You are WEAKLINGS." He yanked at the chains suddenly, causing every member to take a step back.

This was insufferable. How could one lone captive in chains instill such fear in them?

"You have disobeyed time and again. Made a mockery of our order. Now you dare insult our strength?" He had only escaped punishment thus far because of his genius and knowledge. The agitated crowd murmured amongst themselves. He spoke again.

"The only madness here is blindly following in Caesar's insanity. Can you not see what is soon coming?" His words stung. It felt as though a heavy weight fell on each zebra present. It was true.

The orders they were being given were becoming increasingly desperate. Each foray into battle was less and less successful no matter how much was being thrown into it. They would lose the war soon. A war they must win. They were bound by tradition, honor and duty to succeed or die in carrying out this impossible task. Their leader hissed angrily, turning towards the others.

"Silence. We serve the empire and the empire is Caesar!" The murmurs ceased. He stomped at the ground rhythmically.

"Our lives for Caesar! All hail!" They all joined. He turned back to the prisoner as the stomping continued.

"You see, cretin? Our loyalties lie with the empire. Where do yours?" He pointed to the attendants to pour in the final ingredient. A vile thick smoke began to rise from the patterns, slowly circling towards the center. Soon he would be engulfed in it.

"Judgement is passed. For your misdeeds towards your kin the sentence is death." The prisoners expression showed nothing. No fear, no anger. Nothing. The crowd fell silent as the smoke covered him completely.

He should be coughing, choking on the concoction. Dying. Nothing was heard. Silently they looked to each other, perplexed. Minutes passed. The obscuring smoke would dissipate soon. The vague outline of the zebra could just be made out as it went.

"What?" Scattered gasps from the group voiced their disbelief. Something was not right with this. A terrible feeling of wrong overcame them.

"What is this?" One of them gasped. The chains lay empty on the ground. He stepped out from the haze.

They were all backing up.

"Stand fast! Weapons!" Their leader ordered. Each readied daggers, swords or even more exotic fighting tools.

"Abraxi, what have you done!?" He leered at the group. He looked different somehow, darker. Sinister. Some depressive feeling of dread fell over every one of them. His very voice hurt to hear.

"You are all so weak-minded. Zebra and pony alike, all their allies. It took you much too long to see through this guise. You have so readily earned what is come upon you." He raised a hoof and they all staggered backwards under some unseen assault.

"Sir, what is he?" One of the group asked. Some strange pressure pushed at them.

"That is not Abraxi. It never was." Was the response. Hollow echoed laughter surrounded them.

"How right you are. He died at the very outset of this game. A game which you have now lost, for I am become death." He laughed maniacally. A game? Death? Was this abomination standing before them one of their own at all? Was he even a zebra?

"It was all so easy. Taking his place. A few suggestive words given at just the right moment. An accident or two and suddenly you are all trying to kill one another. Isn't it glorious?" He was walking straight at them.

"Who is this fiend, sir?" One of the subordinates ran at him only to be deftly bashed away in a single precise movement to land sprawled unconscious. Their leader gravely took his stance.

"A servant of the lowland cult. Brace yourselves." At mention of the cult their hearts ran even colder.

"Give it your all. Anything less means our end. Fight well and true." They knew there was no escaping this.

He was nearing. What misfortune this was. To have uncovered such treachery here and now. Much too late to do any good.

"Far more than your end, quaestionarius. The empire topples, and we all fall..down." The clamor of battle rang out in the night.

- - -

Sometimes things are exactly what they seem to be.

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