• 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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One would think when the world ends, hatred would end along with it. This is an illusion, an unfulfillable dream that will never come to pass until all existence itself ceases to be. War is simply the most obvious play of unchecked hatred. It takes many forms, sometimes even masquerading as truth. It never is. Justice and right failed the ponies of Equestria. The only real truth of such hatred is that it feeds and grows on more hatred in an endless, nigh-unbreakable cycle of bitter tears. The great war that ravaged the land and consumed everywhere else during the course of nearly two decades ended in the very fires of hatred itself, yet even this terrible conflagration could not put a final end to this bitterness.

It simply took on new forms, continuing as it ever does. How dark and terrible can one's own suffering be to desire only its infliction on others? Some embittered souls such as these survived the end of everything. In their misery, instead of learning from this mistake they chose to pass this hatred on once more and continue the cycle. Even now, blinded by the allure and ease which hatred offers, some ponies still fail to realize the awful truth staring them in the face. Their very hearts grow ever more poisoned by this insidious hatred. The truth is obvious, something which should be plain for all to see. There is only one thing in all the world capable of breaking such hatred's icy grip.

The vast dullness of the wastes kills hope for the end of hatred even as it arises. It has done so for all the long days through the empty decades since the end. No champions have arisen to take up this dulled cup, left to tarnish. The fear and terror is too great, too formidable. Yet, even in this life of sheer hopelessness pure hearts still exist and wish for more. Despite constant pain and sorrow the want for justice and right is deep-seated. For some it is simple as wanting a fair deal, for others it is a matter of keeping the playing field level for all. Sadly, this ingrained need has often destroyed as much as was saved, sometimes more.

The echoing cries of war rang out for uncounted empty days in the very name of justice, and in Equestria even seeking such justice became just another twisted effort corrupted by this futility. On the surface all seemed as it ever was, even as the framework of justifiable law fell apart. Had the war ended in victory would true justice ever have been restored? In swapping justice for perceived victory the great pony races found they also removed from themselves the ability to pursue happiness, letting only misery fall in upon them from all quarters. The royals took little or no action to rectify this state of affairs, seeking only their victory, many times turning a blind eye to their subjects suffering.

Perhaps wallowing in their own misery and seeing their land being engulfed in the same, the decision was to let justice fall by the wayside. Success in war is a difficult measure. What does victory actually mean when the very values one is sworn to uphold are left in so many tatters? Many of the ponies in the combined Equestrian army were just as blinded in their pursuit of justice, piling blame even on the innocent. Much like the ponies, not every zebra wished to fight either or become embroiled in the vagaries of war. Seeking asylum put them in just as much danger. Their culture, mannerisms and laws so dissimilar to the ponies own invited deep mistrust. They too could only wish for the impossible.

Simply wishing has never been enough, actions have always spoken louder. Today, seeking an end to the suffering the land and all else has endured is no simple task to be undertaken. Horrors once confined to the realm only of nightmares roam nearly unchecked, when encountered they pose a threat to even the most hardened souls. Sadly such things are hardly the only threat to life and limb. Ponies themselves pose as much and sometimes an even greater threat. Among the pony races once relatively unknown traits of greed, tyranny and the imposition of fear rise in their hearts, along with the hatred which nurtures them. It festers and grows ever more, posing its challenge to any who would dare fight back.

This hatred goes uncontrolled and unhampered by justice. Just another silly thing long forgot from the past. Heroes so often fail they may no longer exist. Thus far any that would dare speak of justice have quickly found themselves overmatched and dispatched by far darker hearts. Cold and still embittered at the loss of their world the shadows of pain and suffering spread, seeking only to cause more of the same. Sometimes justice itself must take the darkened path. Many times its unleashed fury has laid waste to more than it was worth. How much fury must be building when justice has been unable to act for so long? It has been said justice is kept blind because of this very thing, to serve all in equality.

What happens when the blinders are off? There are countless sad, empty and lonely ways to to die in the wastes. Should the pursuit of justice add yet more? Somewhere, forgotten in the desolate emptiness of the wastes a statue of the personification of justice stands alone, once surrounded by a beautiful quiet grove where ponies could reflect and enjoy the day under her eternal watch. Those that truly upheld the law have ever served her first, their leaders second. One could imagine perhaps she is saddened by the carnage all have endured since that happy time. Upon her outstretched hoof she holds aloft in gilded promise the golden scales of justice, its unerring blade still strapped to her back, ready to strike true if called upon once more.

Her weary visage has long withstood the test of time since far before the war. Her sculptor was a pony from yesteryear who absolutely loved life, one who understood the real value of freedom and the necessity of law to protect that freedom. He would have been very proud to know she would stand through it all, but if he knew what awaited her in the distant future he would have wept for her, his finest work. Pointing towards the horizon she has continued this lonely vigil against such insurmountable hatred in hope. Inscribed upon the statues base etched in unyielding stone is her promise of equality for all.

The heavy stone blinders once seeming so permanent have slowly crumbled away to reveal this distant horizon and the sad truth to her angered eyes. Her ideals should never have been abandoned, for along with them went all reason and all hope for a bright future. A future that for many would never come. The burden justice carries is the heaviest of all. As the pain that has befallen the world is revealed to her you can almost hear her anguished cry, calling for a return to reason. The great statue almost seeming to weep in pain and sorrow for all those lost to such a malediction, all this an intolerable insult to that which stands for good. Justice is unyielding as it must be, always standing alone in front of all others.

She may only act on behalf of those who already possess the will to step forth with the courage to denounce wrong, regardless of what pain it means they must face in doing so, and bolster their strength to endure with her own. This unparalleled strength has been held in check ever since that vaguely remembered time when kindness, compassion and empathy were held dear to ponies hearts, now drawn astray by the misleading promises of hate. The ponies once true to her fallen for the lie, she must be very angry. The strength of true justice once felt solidly throughout the land has languished and been forgotten, tossed aside like so much trash and trod upon in callousness.

Is it possible even now for her to still stand true to the ponies of Equestria? Who can know such things? She is but a concept, a creation of like minds. Some might say little more than an illusion crafted in an effort to help make sense of the world. Her strength, however, has always stood undeniable, illusion or not.

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Somewhere those flickering eyes once more seeking, but what?

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