4: Big Coffin Hunters and Starkblasts
4
BIG COFFIN HUNTERS AND STARKBLASTS
Special thanks to
Bed Head and Hikari
The batwing doors connecting the back room of the Last Roundup to the predominantly empty front section flew apart, and the sheriff of Ponyville marched through. He was a massive, jet black stallion, carved entirely out of solid muscle. He could probably tangle with timberwolves and feel nothing worse than mildly irked. The proud, silver handlebar on his face matched his mane and tail. There were two stars upon him, a tin one pinned to the front of his coat, and a gold one on his flank, bordered by a lasso. A low-crowned hat was perched atop his head, shadowing his eyes.
“Hammer!” the sheriff demanded. “Did I just hear a shot go off?”
“I ’spect ya did, boss,” replied the greasy, brown unicorn seated at the lone table. He moved to investigate the unconscious body of his opponent. There were playing cards strewn everywhere, several of which were slowly turning in at the corners as they burned up. Gold bits were stacked high on one side of the table. Sheriff Ramrod did not have to think long on whose side that must have been. “Accused me a’ cheatin’, so he did,” Hammer explained, then paused his searching to let out a short laugh. “An’ would ya believe it, this little slime was cheatin’ hisself the whole time! That’s gotta be nine kinds a’ lawbreakin’ right there. Wouldn’t ya say so, Sheriff?”
“What I say, Deputy Hammer, is I doubt ya can even count to nine,” the sheriff snorted derisively. “An’ I don’t care if he accused ya a’ cheatin’ with his wife, which I have on pretty good authority ya are, by the way. I don’t want you compromisin’ our arrangement with the good townsfolk by shootin’ off your fool spells like some kinda danged party cannon.” The body’s limbs were pointing away from the torso at funny angles. He nudged it with one hoof, eliciting an unpleasant crunching sound. “This poor dumb sap’s gonna have to be mummified.”
“Sorry, boss,” said Hammer, not meaning it in the least, “guess I let my pride get the better a’ me.”
“See it don’t happen again,” said Ramrod. “Speakin’ of arrangements, you, me an’ Tongs gotta have us a conversation. D’ya know where the little idjit’s run off to?”
The doors burst open once more. It took Ramrod and Hammer a few seconds to recognise the trembling mess that slouched in as Deputy Tongs, or what was left of him, anyway. He had always been careful with his appearance, even if he had no concept of taste, but the youngest of the three looked as if he had lost a fight with a falling building. He was covered in dark, sticky patches and he reeked of smoke. His moustache hung like two limp stalks of hay, and what had once been a painstakingly styled mane was reduced to two thin rows that drooped down his temples, leaving him completely bald down the middle. His cheap pinstripes were unkempt and now seemed even cheaper than before. Dirt cheap, actually.
Once the initial amazement had passed by, Hammer fell straight to the floor on his back, clutched his stomach and let out peals of cruel laughter. Tongs’s few brains must have been scrambled something terrible, because normally he would have pounced on Hammer like a wild cat for mocking him so.
“Shut your yap, Hammer,” growled Ramrod. He was not acting to protect Tongs’s pride or anything like that, you understand, but he was hovering somewhere between surprise, outrage and bewilderment. He wanted answers to remedy this unwanted disposition and found Hammer’s chortling to be both distracting and extremely irritating. The brown unicorn shut his yap, and the sheriff returned his gaze to Tongs. “The heck happened to you, boy?”
Tongs could not answer at first. He started hyperventilating, and then he started stammering, an affliction he had suffered once as a foal that had now returned to him with a vengeance, but eventually he was able to get his story out. Ramrod and Hammer listened grimly as he relayed the way things had escalated at Sweet Apple Acres, how that ungrateful blonde bimbo had snubbed his kind offers and her family of savages had attacked him and broken the law, and then the appearance of the grey earth-pony with the ghostly eyes and flat, emotionless voice. Although the telling was rushed and littered with self-assertions, he did not lie about that. He could not lie about the way he had seen into the gates of oblivion.
“You let a kid with no spell power best ya, Tongs?” Hammer sneered. “An’ here I thought my opinion of ya couldn’t get no lower. Thanks for provin’ me wrong.”
“S-s-shut up, Hammer!” Tongs spat. He looked to Ramrod, who had turned away from him, either in thought or just because he could not bring himself to look upon such a pathetic specimen. That was when he dropped the bombshell. “He c-c-carried g-g-guns, Ramrod. Real b-b-big’uns.”
Ramrod glanced back over his shoulder at the deputy. “Guns?” he asked. Tongs nodded. “Well I’ll be danged,” said Ramrod softly. “Don’t that just beat all?” He paced a little as he plotted, then issued his commands to the pair of lackeys. “A’right, boys, I wanna see this gunslingin’ foal for myself, get the measure a’ him. I’m gonna have me a little palaver with our friends in the Everfree Forest. Hammer, I want ya to keep an eye on things ’til I get back.”
“No problem, boss,” said the brown unicorn.
“What about me, Sh-sh-sheriff?” asked Tongs.
“Go get yourrself cleaned up, ya look ridiculous,” said Ramrod, “an’ until ya get that stutter under control, keep your lips zipped. Understand?”
Tongs was about to answer, then reconsidered and settled for nodding his head again instead.
“I’ll inform the mayor I’m goin’ on patrol,” said Ramrod. “She won’t ask after me, not so long as she thinks we’re the only thing standin’ between her town an’ utter devastation. An’ I meant what I said before, Hammer. Don’t go blastin’ nopony ‘less ya absolutely gotta.”
“Colt Scout’s honour, Sheriff,” Hammer smirked.
“Whatever,” said Ramrod. He glanced at the unconscious bag of bones in the corner, and called out, “Ditzy!”
A light grey pegasus with a dreamy, wall-eyed expression came into the room. Ditzy Doo was employed by the saloon’s owner to carry out odd-jobs, and happened to be the only other inhabitant within the building at that particular time. She was a sweet and gentle creature, but she was slow, as everypony in town well knew. Not somepony whose presence would ever give the sheriff and his deputies cause to stifle themselves. She was carrying a bucket of water by its handle between her teeth, because she had been scrubbing the floor out front. “Sir?” she chirped.
Ramrod produced a gold bit and dropped it into the bucket with a little splash. “Call the hospital for that sucker an’ clean this mess up, addled one, before your boss gets back.”
The pegasus wanted to say, “Yessir, Your Sheriffship, sir,” but she was at least smart enough to know that dropping her bucket would serve only to make the mess even worse than before, so she just saluted with one hoof against her forehead. Ramrod let himself out first. Hammer sniggered at Tongs whilst collecting his winnings from the card game, and after the briefest of stand-offs, which quickly devolved into a childish shoulder-slapping contest with no clear winner and two irritated losers, they followed their leader’s example. Tongs would take to the alleys and head back to his rooms to make himself as presentable as was still possible with his greatly reduced mane, and Hammer would go to his station on the porch of the sheriff’s office.
Ditzy Doo sang a tune to herself as she worked, “Hey, Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better…”
XXX
Peacemaker thought Twilight Sparkle had definitely eaten far too much pie at the Apple family brunch. Her belly was protruding to the extent that she looked heavily pregnant, dangling down between her four legs as she slumped painfully along on their return to Ponyville. The gun-pony knew the feeling would pass soon enough, although he could not think of any method by which it would happen that his charge would find at all agreeable. She struck him as the essence of Canterlot life, raised to be a proper mare, and liable not to find the rougher parts of her body’s own nature to be anything besides embarrassing. He had himself lived rough for a considerable amount of time, and any pretensions he once had about what was and was not deemed acceptable that his teacher did not beat out of him years ago had been ground out of existence by his own solitary lifestyle.
The gun-pony was thinking about the Apple family. He had found Granny Smith’s story startling. Although he had no doubts that ponies from his dead home had spread to Equestria, and perhaps other nations as well, he had not thought he would actually meet one who remembered it the way she had done. Even more unbelievable to him was what she had said of her father and husband. He had been taught that to wield the guns of a father who was a better pony than you would ever be was the greatest honour, for they represented law and order.
How, then, could a pony turn away from all that, for his family, for the mare he loved?
Peacemaker understood very little of love. His teacher had taught him of many things, but not of matters of the heart. Gun-ponies were the law. They were warriors of the White. They had sworn loyalty to Princess Celestia when she came to their kingdom across the Badlands because, in her own way, she too was of the White. Now the work of his father and grandfather had become his own, at least until the black alicorn’s trail reappeared, then that would take precedence. Love simply did not factor into it, for he was to be never afforded that luxury. He was the last of the gun-ponies, and not blessed with companions – ‘ka-tet,’ was the term in the High Speech of Gallowad – who could help to shoulder his emotions and keep him strong. Once he had found the black alicorn and put a bullet through her evil heart, then maybe, maybe he would be allowed to love another.
He reckoned his teacher would have been furious had he known the gun-pony was thinking of the blonde mare he had first seen through the farmhouse window. He had found her pleasing to look upon. She was not soft and doughy like Twilight Sparkle. She was strong without losing all hints of femininity, which seemed to make what was left radiate all the more. They had talked briefly while her family stuffed themselves silly. Like him, she had not known her parents long. Her mother and father had reached the clearing at the end of the path (she had told him it was a lovely way to put it) and left her and her siblings in the care of Granny Smith, but the children’s upbringing had been communal, thanks to the ever-readiness of the Apple family as a whole to support one another in times of crisis.
“Tongs won’t stand for this, y’know,” she had said to him. “He probably will make good on his threat.”
“It is likely,” he had replied solemnly. “He is a coward, so he will come with a posse. His gang, maybe. But he will not succeed.”
“It’s not exactly his gang,” Applejack had said. “He’s just a stooge for Sheriff Ramrod, but he could put a posse together.”
“Do you fear him?” he had asked.
“No, ’course not,” she had replied immediately, “but I do fear he’ll go after Granny Smith or Apple Bloom first. He knows if they were ever in danger, I’d do anythin’ to save them.”
“Including becoming his filly?”
Applejack had only nodded.
“I will not allow that to happen,” he had said. “You may set your watch and warrant on that, sai Applejack.”
“You’re sweet, Peacemaker,” she said, “but don’t go gettin’ yerself hurt on my account.”
“They will not hurt me,” he had said, shrugging off the suggestion. “If they tried, I would see them all dead twice over.”
Applejack had looked at him then, eyes huge. “Ya don’t mean ya’d really, well, kill them?”
Peacemaker had raised one of his guns then, the barrel pointing skywards. “I have been trained all my life to maintain the peace, sai Applejack. I will do what is necessary.”
She had asked him then how he could be so calm when he said that. Next, he was telling her about the years he had spent in the care of his teacher, after his father had reached his own clearing, and about the wisdom the old stallion had bestowed to him.
He found himself unable to stop himself before the tale had poured forth. He did not tell her what he had seen when he was only small, nor did he say anything which was not broad and un-specific, but he did tell her of his lessons. How to track, how to trap, how to forage, how to hunt, how to camp, how to shoot, how to riddle (this one was very important, second only to shooting) and how in the end to survive as a solitary creature with no room in his heart for another. In short, how to be a true gun-pony.
He remembered each one with perfect clarity, and quoted them word-for-word. His recitations were so accurate that inside his head, it was his teacher who was speaking, with him serving only as the mouthpiece.
“I think ya don’t need to be like your teacher,” said Applejack, and she put her hoof over his. “I’m sure he was only doin’ his best by ya, but please, Peacemaker, ya ain’t gotta be cold like that.” She had asked him not to kill, if only for her sake. He had said nothing. He would kill the black alicorn, or he would die. It was inevitable. He had quietly excused himself from the conversation. He wondered if perhaps that was why he could not stop thinking of her. His inability to respond to her disturbed him in some deep way his mind could not fully process.
“Yo, P.M.”
Peacemaker blinked. Jack-a-Nape, their diligent guide, had come to a halt right in front of him. Twilight Sparkle had found a medicinal stall a little way up the road and was gulping down a glass of something he guessed was meant to settle her ailing stomach, while Spike patted her back comfortingly.
“You feelin’ okay, pal? You, like, spaced out there.”
“I am fine, Jack-a-Nape,” the gun-pony responded. “Just…thinking.”
“Thinkin’ ’bout A.J.?” Jackie smirked. “I don’t mean to pry…actually, that’s a lie, I totally do, but it don’t take much pryin’ to see you two were gettin’ all kinds of chummy earlier.”
The gun-pony glowered at him. “We spoke of nothing that concerns you,” he said. “Are we close to our next destination?”
Jackie grinned at him. “Sure,” he said. “Spikers said it was decorations, right? They should be workin’ things out down at town hall. I know a shortcut. How’re you holdin’ up, T.S.?”
“I don’t know what’s in this stuff,” said Twilight, gazing at the tiny pool of liquid at the bottom of her glass, “but I feel much better already. Thank you.” The vendor at the medicinal stall told her she was welcome. “Is it some sort of magick potion?” she asked. The vendor told her there was no magick involved, just good old-fashioned herbal chemistry. Twilight glanced down at her stomach, which was significantly closer to its original size now. She was perplexed, and then there was a loud rumble, like the roar of a lion, from deep inside her. Twilight’s face twisted, cheeks turning green and puffing out, pupils dilating almost comically to dark pinpricks.
The vendor, not batting an eyelid at this dramatic reaction, pointed with one hoof towards a small wooden structure with a slanted roof and four doors in the front. Twilight disappeared inside it. Peacemaker peripherally noticed that someone had scrawled out whatever used to be on the sign above and carved the words ‘UPCHUCKLE MOTEL' in their place.
“I think we may need to wait awhile,” said Jackie, visibly wincing. He remembered the first time he had been treated to an Apple family brunch, and this was very much like looking at a mirror, the surface of which reflected his own past.
“I hope she’ll be okay,” said Spike.
“We reap what we sow, little one,” said the gun-pony. He retrieved a deck of playing cards from under his hide vest. “If we are to wait, have either of you ever played watch-me before?”
“I think I’m dying!” Twilight Sparkle wailed.
They played a round, and then Spike looked skywards. “I just realised something. There’s supposed to be a bunch of pegasus ponies clearing the sky for the celebration, but I still see loads of cloud up there.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” said Jackie. “Rainbow Dash is supposed to be handlin’ that with her team.”
“Are they not very good?” asked Peacemaker.
“Are you kiddin’? R.D.’s the best in the region,” said Jackie, “but I guess she must be snoozin’ or somethin’. She likes to leave it closer to—”
“Be silent,” said Peacemaker, and perked his ears up. He could hear something on the wind. A kind of whistling, and it was getting louder, to the point where his companions could both hear it a little. Peacemaker had heard tell of such a thing. In fact, he had been witness to it. There was no time to think on how nopony had been able to tell it was coming this way, and he noted it had been getting very warm in the past few days, although he had been hubristic enough to let the blame fall squarely upon the season they were in. His eyes were huge with electric panic.
“Starkblast inbound!” he shouted, and shoved Jack-a-Nape and Spike both to the ground. He turned towards the Upchuckle Motel. “Twilight, stay down!” The roof of the tiny building exploded in a shower of splinters. Twilight Sparkle screamed and fell to the exposed floor, covering her head with her fore-hooves. Peacemaker felt the impact before he truly saw it. It struck him with all the fury of a speeding train and carried him off his hooves. He tumbled, head over tail and tail over head again, over and around until sky and land blurred into one formless mass, and then he came to land in a tangle of limbs, into the dirt.
It had been no starkblast, he realised, but it hurt all the same. His nerves were all at once on fire, throbbing from end to end. He had skidded along at least thirty feet after returning to the ground, with enough force behind him to gouge out a trench in the earth. Displaced dirt and grass were piled up to either side of him. One of his guns was fixed to his forehoof while the other had become dislodged. His vision was bleary, but he could see the rest racing towards him. The ringing and the pulse of blood in his ears drowned out their calls.
“…ry, du…”
Peacemaker felt himself being helped to his hooves, but he was too unsteady to stand and fell on his haunches. Things were slowly starting to make sense again.
“…wa…nt…cite…”
The ringing faded, as did the thud as his brain put things back together. He was able to process the little snips of language and associate them more coherently. “Sorry, dude,” was what was said, and then, louder, “Wasn’t that exciting?”
There were nine more ponies joining the group, then his vision solidified and he could see it was only three. Three pegasi, to be specific. The one who had smashed into him was easily identifiable by the lumps of dirt, clay and grass gummed to her face and body. She had a cyan coat, with red eyes and an outrageous spectrum of colours in her mane and tail.
“We were so close!” she was rambling to anyone who deigned to listen. “We almost pulled off the Double Inside Out Loop to the Power of Three, dudes! That! Was! So! Awesome!”
“Dude, check that out,” said one of the other pegasi, pointing to the thirty foot scar in the ground.
“Yeah! I must’ve been wicked fast to do that much damage!” the cyan pony agreed.
“Here, Peacemaker,” said Twilight Sparkle, passing him his lost gun. He thanked her with a grunt and slid the weapons into their holsters. The unicorn turned to the chattering pegasus. “I take it that you’re Rainbow Dash?”
“The one and only,” the cyan pony replied, then gestured with her wings towards her two friends. “These are my crew. The big guy’s Thunderlane, and that one’s Cloudchaser.”
The other two pegasi greeted her happily.
“Yeah, sure, that’s nice,” said Twilight Sparkle brusquely. “You could have killed my bodyguard just now!”
“What’s your problem?” Rainbow Dash snorted. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”
“Sorry? Sorry!?” Twilight Sparkle snapped. “I don’t know what that pony’s made out of, but thank goodness he is because otherwise your stunt would’ve turned him into a stain!”
“I am well, sai Twilight,” Peacemaker croaked, and felt balanced enough to regain his hooves. “That was some impressive speed, sai Rainbow.”
“Thanks, dude,” said Rainbow Dash, beaming.
“But you lack coordination,” said Peacemaker.
“The three of us have got cooperation down just fine,” said Rainbow Dash matter-of-factly.
“He said coordination, not cooperation,” Twilight Sparkle tried to chime in, but the others were competing now, and so she was ignored. The ponies of Gallowad used to have a term for such a happening. They were standing commala. Like many words of their tongue it had several definitions, but in this instance it meant to stand chest to chest.
“We run circles around all the other pegasi,” Thunderlane agreed. “We’ve won the Cloudsdale 500 two years in a row.”
“Ah. Then it was your intent to drive both of us into the ground like a couple of nails,” said Peacemaker. Rainbow Dash grimaced, and the gun-pony’s mouth twitched up at the corners. “I will never fly as you do, but how to line up my target, that I know well.”
“What’re you getting at exactly, stranger?” the cyan pegasus asked.
Peacemaker looked around, until he saw a boulder. “Jack-a-Nape, would you please place six pebbles atop yon stone?”
Jack-a-Nape gave him an odd look, but did as he was asked.
The group, save for Rainbow Dash, moved apart as Peacemaker walked several steps, further increasing the distance between himself and the boulder and keeping his back to it. “Where I come from,” he said, “we are taught to aim not with our eyes, but with our mind.”
“How do you aim if you don’t use your eyes?” asked Cloudchaser.
“I know where my target is, and I know the weight of my weapon and where my hoof is when I lift it,” said Peacemaker. “The mind calculates all of these factors instinctively, so I can get on with the task without worry. I admit, it takes a lot of practise, but results do not lie.”
“Blah-blah-blah! So what?” Rainbow Dash scoffed. “Your way might be coagulated or whatever, but it’ll be slow. Speed’s what really matters. If you’re fast enough, you can make up for the mistakes before anypony even knows you made them. They’ll say it’s all part of the show, and I’m nothing if not a born show-pony.”
“Oh, you think so?” Peacemaker asked, and cocked an eyebrow at her.
Spike whispered something in Twilight Sparkle’s ear and pointed up towards the clouds. The unicorn smiled like a cat catching a canary, and approached the two ponies. “Excuse me, you two. Might I suggest a way to conclude this argument of speed over aim?”
Peacemaker and Rainbow Dash looked at each other, then at her. “What’ve you got in mind?” they asked as one.
“Rather than taking turns showing off, let’s make it a real competition,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I propose that Peacemaker will draw his gun and shoot those pebbles he had Jack-a-Nape set up earlier to prove how good his aim is, and Rainbow Dash can clear the sky of clouds. Whoever finishes first wins. Is that fair?”
“Make it twelve,” said Peacemaker. “Each of my guns holds six shots.”
“Better make it ten, then,” said Rainbow Dash, and smirked, “that’ll give you two extra ones if you screw up.”
Peacemaker frowned. “Twelve,” he insisted. Jack-a-Nape obliged him once again.
Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Whatever, pal, it’s your loss,” she said. She spread her wings and lowered her body, preparing for take-off. Peacemaker, still with his back to the boulder, tensed his muscles.
Twilight Sparkle counted them down. “Ready…get set…and go!”
Rainbow Dash vanished with a burst of raw power, leaving a many-coloured contrail in her wake as she zoomed into the sky. Thunderlane and Cloudchaser both cheered loudly. Peacemaker was momentarily taken aback, but when he heard Jack-a-Nape and Spike calling his name, he recalled where he was and twisted about-face, almost launching the fearsome blue cylinders from their holsters and taking hold of the sandalwood grips.
Peacemaker allowed himself a split-second to target, then squeezed both triggers. He saw the first two pebbles go hurtling, cocked, and fired again. Four. Six. High above his head, Rainbow Dash was demolishing clouds with swift strikes, sometimes kicking and sometimes passing headlong through them, turning them into donut shapes before they dissipated utterly. Eight. The patches of white faded as Rainbow pushed harder still, becoming a furious whirlwind of many beautiful colours which churned the atmosphere like water in a bowl, sucking in the white puffs and spewing their smithereens across the heavens.
By all the divines, thought Peacemaker, how can she still be going faster? That kind of speed alone should break her bones and pulp her guts!
Ten. The end in sight. He could still win this. He pulled. Click! Peacemaker stopped and stared at the gun in his right hoof. He pulled twice more. Click! Click! He remembered now, and his jaw fell open at his own carelessness. He had not reloaded since he had stood against the worm Tongs at Sweet Apple Acres. He glanced up. The clean, clear blue of the sky was taking over now. No time to think. No time to worry or to second guess himself. He swore and threw his empty gun aside, moving his now free hoof to support his other. The last two pebbles were at opposite sides of the boulder. The only option left was a trick shot. Blessed father and teacher, let my bullet fly true!
At the exact moment that Rainbow Dash expelled the last cloud over Ponyville, the eleventh stone shattered into a dozen fragments. Peacemaker lowered his remaining weapon, and the whirlwind calmed as Rainbow Dash descended.
“That’s it,” she said, panting for breath and trembling a little. She was sweating profusely. “So, who won? Did you hit them all?”
Peacemaker stared straight ahead. His throat tightened. One lone pebble sat on the boulder. He hung his head in defeat. “I cry your pardon, sai,” he said, “for I have–”
“Guys, look!”
They all did. Spike had toddled up to the boulder and was now pointing at the lone pebble. “Check this out!” he said, and ever so lightly, he tapped it with a claw-tip. The pebble fell in half down its centre. “Looks like we got ourselves a tie!”
The onlookers gasped. Peacemaker gaped.
“A TIE!?” Rainbow Dash cried. “YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!”
“I’m not kidding! Look!” Spike answered, holding the two pieces in the air as evidence. “It’s still hot!”
“Darn it,” Rainbow Dash grumbled. She looked at Peacemaker, sighed, and offered him her forehoof. “Good game, dude. We should do this again.”
“And the same to you,” replied the gun-pony, and accepted the shake. “You may not have been what I thought, but you are as mighty as a starkblast, sai Rainbow.”
“Starkblast?” asked Rainbow Dash. “The heck is that?”
“It is a type of storm which is beyond compare,” said Peacemaker. “All who cross it fall by the wayside.”
Rainbow Dash grinned. It was not mean, or snarky, or smug, but it was satisfied. “Starkblast,” she said thoughtfully. “Yeah, if that’s what it takes.” She looked over her shoulder at Thunderlane and Cloudchaser, then back at the other group. “Well, the clouds are clear, so we’re gonna get back to practising. Maybe I’ll just keep that there copacabana stuff in mind.”
“Coordination!” yelled Twilight Sparkle.
Rainbow Dash laughed, “I knew that the whole time, horn-head. I’m just messing with you.”
Thunderlane, Cloudchaser, Jack-a-Nape, Spike, and even the gun-pony shared her laughter. Twilight Sparkle groaned exasperatedly. “Horn-head, huh?” she grumbled, and used her magick to shove the lot of them into the trench.
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The fact that you're drawing off Henry Bowers for Tongs excites me to a level you can't possibly understand.
3587672 I suppose I'll have to re-read some of It fairly soon, then. My word has working on this given me cause to go back over a lot of books.
DOUGHY?!
Seriously, though, good stuff. Your concerns about the possible romance angle between Applejack and Peacemaker aren't anything to worry about, because they're still in the first-impression "mutual appreciation" stage, and one can see it as a natural reaction for both of them. It doesn't feel unnatural unless you're just opposed to OC/Mane6 shipping on principle.
Love it so far. The fusion of the two universes is done really well and I don't think the changes are jarring. I look forward to seeing more.
Turnabout Storm reference?
Another great chapter. This one had me pleased as punch to read.
3601516 Funnily enough, I've never actually watched that, although I have heard of it. I just wanted to use a name for a race or competition that sounded genuine. Apparently I achieved that better than I thought I would.
You know, I myself am a huge fan of The Dark Tower, if you can't tell from the fact that Roland Deschain himself is my profile pic or how I pay great homage to King's masterful story in the junk I write. When Amacita down here showed me this fic, and I jumped all thereinto with high hopes I was sure would be dashed. And do you know what? This fic is... rather amazing. Your prose is beyond fantastic and perfectly reminiscent of Stephen King while still feeling fresh and original. Like, I sometimes hate reading, and I adore this fic. A brilliant little gem, amen, though and through. The action here feels fresh, an interesting take on the "OC in ponyvile" nonsense you see os often. And the fact that the characters are all the seam if slightly different (Hellooo, Eddie Dean of New—er, I mean, Jack-a-Nape of Manehattan) makes this fic even more appealing to me. Like, gah, this fic is so fun to read. And the Gunslinger here is as once as badass as Roland and yet not overpowered, as you clearly and brilliantly showed through your competition with Rainbow Dash, which he pointédly does not win hand-over-fist but makes a mistaken gets a tie. I adored that. And you show that what he is as Roland Deschain, he is not Roland Deschain. He is his now unique thing with lots of Roland infused within him, and I love that.
You, Dutch Tilt, have remembered the face of your father.
Oh, and, uh, some minor BS that I must get outta the way
As a Southerner who does, in fact, use words like "yonder" unironically, this sentence is odd to me. I would have used "yon" instead of "yonder", since "yon" sounds more natural here, but it might just be my Dixieland accent.
You also have Applejack drop the T in "must", and I would like to ask you to please stop doing that. That T is certainly there. As a Southern myself, that really grates on my nerves. Also, there was a line wherein the Southerners spoke but had a certain word spelt as "favour", and I just laughed my ass off. It's just so... wrong to see my Dixieland accent with British spelling. In fact, while your Southern accents are generally okay, the minor things do grate me. Your use of "yer" just makes me grind my teeth, for example, since even though I might say it like that, I hate seeing it writ as such, as it makes us look... stupid, for want of a better term.
Still, thankee big-big, sai, for allowing me to attempt to hold palaver down in yon comments, and to offer my high praise of this little gem. And till next comment, I shall let thee alone, sai.
I am loving this immensely. So Applejack is like Susan, hopefully that doesn't end the same way
Also, Derpy is filling the role as Sheemie, I love that, hopefully she'll have Psychic abilities as well
As for Jackie, I am currently reading him in Jesse Pinkman's (Breaking Bad) voice since his character reminds me of Eddie a lot.
I just can't wait for Peacemaker to be standing over some idiot and scolding them saying "You have forgotten the face of your father"
Keep up the great work man
can someone please tell me what this fanfic is crossing over with?
5979158
It says so right there in the description.
Honestly.