The Wolves of Equestria

by FenrisianBrony

Traitor

Time seemed to freeze as I looked up at Grafter, the massive unicorn towering over me as he had done back in Fitjar, his face twisted into the self-entitled sneer that I had gotten so accustomed to over my childhood.

The rest of his body was huge, even bigger than it had been when we had been in a Hoof together, all shielded from view by thick, black metal armour, that looked like the bastard child of Legionnaire armour and dragon scales. His teeth were longer than I thought possible, ending in vicious spikes, which he made a point of showing as he sneered. His face was almost exactly how I had remembered it, the sneer being exactly the same, save for his eyes. The pupils were now slitted, taking on the appearance of a snake as opposed to a pony, and unnerving me more than any other single part of Grafter’s drastically altered physique.

“What’s the matter, runt? You lost for words?”

“Y-You died,” I growled, taking a step backwards.

“What, after that bastard Raven Eyes threw me out into the cold?” Grafter scowled. “I almost did, he took my cloak in the middle of a storm, but I found a cave and took shelter. Then, they came to me. The true Gods, far stronger than the weakling you call empress. They showed me the way to salvation, and delivered me from that storm, and in return, I pledged to serve them.”

“You sold your soul?” I snarled. “Sold what the Empress gave you, free of demand?”

“Free?” Grafter scoffed. “She demands that you serve in her Legions, that you fight in her wars, kill her enemies, silence her opponents, and you think she gives freely? Chaos did not demand anything from me, I pledged myself to them in return for their gifts. And now, we will bring the light of Chaos to the rest of the world. We will throw down the weak empress and begin a new age for Equestria. This is only the first stage, more Legions are poised to turn, all they need is a push, and a figurehead. A figurehead, like the Warmistress for example.”

“She would kill you before you could even speak a word,” I spat. “You are nothing beside Her light, and the light of the Empress. If chaos is strong, why would they choose you? You, who couldn’t even pass the training for the Arctic Wolves. Is that what chaos is? A group of pissed off, weak ponies? You are pathetic.”

Grafter roared, bringing a hoof round into my jaw. It felt like a Minotaur had run full pelt into me, and I heard bones breaking under the blow. I slid across the floor, Grafter leering down at me.

“Weak? Pathetic?” He seethed. “I organised the Diamond Dogs of this den, and gave them the skills needed to infiltrate a Legionnaire camp, with the help of Scorpan of course. I provided them with poisons strong enough to bring down even the strongest of ponies, a Wolf Lord for example. I have even orchestrated the biggest warp portal this world has ever seen. With the bodies here, we shall rip open a hole to the Immaterium and daemons will pour through. Those who see the light will be spared, and those who do not will be swept away. My Gods have already promised me that the Warmistress will be subjugated in time, she will make an excellent puppet for me to run the country through. Take a good look, Hoarfrost, I will run this world for my Gods, and dedicate it to the glory of chaos.”

“Thhh Empss ill phop oo,” I tried to speak, pain shooting through my broken jaw and making the words illegible.

“What was that?” Grafter asked mockingly. “You seem to be having a bit of trouble with your words there, runt.”

“Give him his weapon back, there is no sport in killing an unarmed opponent,” Grafter ordered, looking over at Scorpan as he drew his own sword, the long blade covered in writhing faces, searing my eyes as I looked at it, and forcing me to look away.

I was roughly dragged to my feet by a Legionnaire, my hammer thrown at my hooves. Picking it up, I dropped into a low guard as Grafter and I began to circle each other, Scorpan and the others forming a large ring around us and watching intently. My body was tense as I faced by childhood again, old memories I had thought long suppressed bubbling to the surface, before Grafter suddenly lunged at me, aiming a hoof strike at my stomach.

The blow caught me off guard, and I only just managed to bring my hammer up to block it. Even so I was still tossed aside like a rag doll, hitting the floor hard and skidding back, managing to get to my hooves just as I stopped sliding, the Legionnaires in the circle pushing me forward once more.

“Do you see the power of Khorne?” Grafter asked as he walked forward, swinging his sword casually.

“Uck oo,” I growled, diving forward and whipping my hammer across his face, panting hard. The blow would have broken the neck of most creatures, but Grafter simply laughed.

“And Lord Nurgle keeps me alive,” he brought his blade down, slicing cleanly through the haft of my hammer as if it wasn’t there, the blade grazing my leg.

Pain erupted where it had cut, far more than it should have for suck a small wound, and I staggered back, gripping the broken haft of my hammer and the head.

“This seems familiar, you with a broken weapon, me the reason,” Grafter sneered. “You cannot win this Hoarfrost, I took your best blow and it did nothing, I will allow you one more chance, pledge yourself to me, to Chaos, and I will allow you to live. I will even allow that pathetic excuse for a Legion to follow you as their Great Wolf. Imagine that, Hoarfrost, the Great Wolf.”

I let out a wordless roar as I leapt forward, bringing the haft of my hammer round. Grafter may have been stronger than I had ever seen him, and able to shrug off mortal wounds like they were nothing, but he was still the same arrogant pony that I had known in Fitjar. I knew how he would react, and if I couldn’t beat him with brawn, then I would have to use my brain.

Predictably, he slashed through the wood, laughing at the pathetic attack. The sword was now out of the way, and I let out a painful laugh of my own as I brought the head of the hammer down towards his horn. Too late, Grafter saw the attack, and tried to bring his sword up, but it was too late.

My hammer slammed into his horn, smashing through the fragile surface and drawing a scream from Grafter, his sword falling to the floor, slicing through my hammer, and destroying the head, forcing me to drop it. Acting on instinct, I grabbed Grafters fallen sword, fully intent on using it to finish what I had started, before the other legionnaires inevitably killed me.

As soon as my headset’s magic touched the sword, time slowed to a standstill, and the colours that had surrounded me moments before seemed to fade. A moment later, I heard a voice that made my fur stand on end.

“A new hoof touches my blade? Interesting.”

“What are you?” I demanded, trying to pry my grip off the sword, only to find it held there by another force. My jaw moved as I spoke, but somehow the ruined bones allowed for me to make a coherent sound once again.

“Me? I am but a lowly servant, you are the true master,” the voice spoke again in its silky smooth voice. “I have waited an eternity for a worthy champion to take up my blade, it seems I have finally found one.”

“What are you?!” I demanded again, my anger rising exponentially.

“I am the solution to your problem, the way to fulfil your greatest desires. Power, strength, stability, I can help you with all these things.”

“You serve Chaos?” I asked, the promises sparking recognition between its words, Scorpan’s and Grafter’s

“Oh nothing so crass,” the voice chuckled. “I serve those who would serve the greater cause.”

“I serve the Empress!” I roared.

“The empress is weak and you know it,” the voice laughed, becoming louder and more demanding. “She cannot even keep track of her sister, the one she calls Warmistress Luna. She will fall before the true powers, and the Warmistress will reign as empress. This is the truth of chaos. We have the mind of the Warmistress, all we need is the body. She is jealous of her sister, all it will take is a push, and we are more than willing to provide it. You cannot change this, and if you will not stand with us, then you are against us, and will be cleansed.”

“No!” I roared, the world coming back into full colour and sound.

I tried to swing the sword towards the screaming form of Grafter, but an unseen force held my blow back. Scorpan and the others were already responding to my strike on Grafter, moving forward. In a second I would lose my advantage, and all would be over.

“I am the hammer!” I began to roar, determined to be defiant until the very end, my voice coming out as little more than broken cries around my ruined jaw, but the meaning somehow ringing across loud and true. “I am the right hoof of the Empress, the instrument of Her will, the gauntlet around Her fist! I am the tip of her spear, the edge of Her sword! I am the voice of the Empress, and though I am beset, I will know no fear!”

The voice inside the sword roared as I chanted, the roar of anger transforming into a scream of pain. As I finished, its grip on the sword vanished, and I slashed forward, just as Grafter began to get to his hooves.

The blade passed effortlessly through his neck, his head falling to the earth without a sound as I panted hard, looking at the sword. My mind whirled as I saw the power of the blade, the voice no longer trying to corrupt me. With this weapon I could sweep aside those who opposed me, I could protect those I loved and safeguard the Equestrian Empire. All would bow before me as I wielded such power that even the Empress would bow before me.

The thought shot through my head, and I turned to face Scorpan, before hurling the sword upwards. Scorpan and the others took their eyes off me for a second, allowing me to tackle one of the unsuspecting Legionnaires, grabbing hold of her gladius and slicing through her neck. The thrown sword was a bigger source of interest however, as it sliced into the rocky ceiling and stuck there. For a minute nothing happened, and Scorpan turned back to face me.

“Of dear, it seems your plan failed, wolf,” he sneered. “I must commend you for ridding me of that fool Grafter, he…”

A rock fell from the ceiling, landing in between Scorpan and I, striking the floor a few meters away from Grafters head. Scorpan dived backwards as more rocks began to fall, separating the two of us.

“You’ll pay for this,” Scorpan snarled, true anger shooting across his face as he was forced deeper into the cavern, but I didn’t stay to listen to any of the other threats he could shout after me, turning and sprinting towards one of the passages that led off from the main cavern.

Rocks were now falling hard and fast, the traitorous Legionnaires shouting orders to try and stop me as I sprinted through. Most were too concerned with avoiding the falling rocks, but some managed to lunge at me. I swung my sword at them as they came at me, the blade knocking them aside and cutting into their armour, but it couldn’t get through to the flesh beyond. I cursed in anger as I imagined how good my hammer, or even my old axe, would have been in this situation, but I didn’t have time to think about that right now.

With one final effort, I launched myself through the air, diving into one of the off-shoot tunnels a moment before rocks covered the entrance and I was plunged into near darkness. I could still hear rocks falling and occasional screams from behind me, but as far as I could see, nothing was ahead of me. Getting back to my hooves, I set off at a gallop, not knowing where this tunnel left, but knowing what it couldn’t be as bad as what was behind me.

I had to warn somepony, and the first thought was the Warmistress, before I suddenly slid to a halt, the swords words ringing in my ears.

We have the mind of the Warmistress, all we need is the body.

Part of me screamed that the sword was simply a servant of chaos, and could not be trusted because of this, but another part of me entertained the idea. Scorpan and countless others had fallen prey to the lies they had been told, and they had managed to engineer so much more than I could even imagine. Who was to say that the Warmistress was truly incorruptible?

My mind was torn with what to do, part of me wanting to simply report the incident to the Warmistress and place my trust in her as I had less than a day earlier, but part of me was fixated on my father.

Chaos had reached father than any other foe had managed to, striking at where the Legion was strongest and felling the strongest of us. If the strongest warrior in the strongest Legion could fall, why not the Warmistress?

My brain screamed at me, before I made up my mind. The Warmistress was likely jealous of the power that the Empress wheeled, and as such could be corrupted. My duty to the Empress demanded only one course of action.

I set off at a determined trot, never once looking down at the cut on my leg. The skin was softly pulsating, sealing back together and bubbling, barely leaving anything to show the injury the chaotic sword had done to me.

Scorpan let out a hacking cough as the dust settled around him, the odd stone bouncing down the huge pile of rocks before him and ‘dinging’ against his armour.

“How many did we lose?” He snarled, looking at one of his Black Ravens.

“I…I don’t know my lord,” the pony stammered. “Many were lost beneath the rocks, almost all of our Drakeguard allies are gone, and we can’t find the Kyroptera and his Night Lords.”

“The loss of the Night Lords will be keenly felt, but it can be recovered from, and the Drakeguard were always expendable,” Scorpan replied nonchalantly. “Begin clearing the rocks, the ritual will not be able to be recovered, but there…”

“Expandable?!” Salamander roared, pushing a rock off him and glaring at Scorpan, madness in his eyes. “I’ll show you expendable!”

With a wordless cry, Salamander galloped towards Scorpan, his sword raised above his head, ready to strike the smaller Pegasus down. Scorpan barely even registered the charging Earth Pony, allowing Salamander to get almost on top of him, before he stepped to the side and raised a wing. Salamander’s own weight carried him forward, the thin blade covering the leading edge of Scorpan’s leading wing. The blade cut deep into Salamander’s neck, blood spurting out from his severed jugular, covering the left half of Scorpan’s face.

“As I was saying,” Scorpan lowered his wing, not even watching as Salamander collapsed to the floor, his hooves twitching as his lifeblood leaked into the dirt. “Clear away the rocks, it will be more advantageous for us to now return to the fold of those loyal to the empress.”

“What about the Arctic Wolf?” the Black Raven asked.

“Hoarfrost?” Scorpan asked, almost as an afterthought. “He has a broken jaw, and is struggling to string words together, he will not be able to convey what he has seen here. On top of that he touched Grafter’s blade. The daemon within will have spoken to him, and it will take a stronger mind than Hoarfrost’s to resist direct exposure to such power.”

As you say, Captain,” the Black Raven bowed, before turning and beginning to bark orders, directing the survivors to begin clearing away the rocks.

I finally caught sight of other ponies, instantly identifying them as Lunar Knights, and I gripped the sword I had taken tighter in my magical grip. They were the personal Legion of the Warmistress, and if she had fallen, I had little doubt that the Legion who followed her would have followed her into heresy.

Just before I unleashed a flurry of attacks on the pony, I forced myself to stop, diverting my path from going directly to the Warmistress’s headquarters and heading towards the chamber where the Arctic Wolf dead were stored.

A few of the Lunar Knights called out to me, but I paid them no heed, not even listening to what they were saying, and instead entering the chamber, seeing the few of my Legion who had paid the final price.

“Orgve ee,” I mumbled, reaching down to a pair of the dead and retrieving their weapons, giving the two axes experimental swings, before nodding.

Now armed with weapons that were more familiar to me, I began to make my way towards the Warmistress’s chambers, passing by more and more Lunar Knights, before finally being stopped by a pair as they stood vigil outside of the Warmistress’s chambers.

“The Warmistress does not wish to be disturbed, Wolf Lord,” one spoke, before looking closely at me and frowning. “Is your jaw ok, Wolf Lord? Do you need me to fetch an apothecary?”

I didn’t reply, knowing full well that if they believed me injured I would be carted off to be seen to, rather than be given access. Instead, I glared at the Lunar Knight, fixing him with a disgusted look. I didn’t like looking at ponies like that, but it clearly had the desired effect, as the Lunar Knight seemed to shrink back.

“S-Sorry, Wolf Lord, you may of course go in,” the Lunar Knight stepped aside asI brushed past him.

“Wolf Lord Hoarfrost?” Luna asked in surprise, looking up from the scrolls she had been pouring over. “I had not expected you back so soon, and I have not been informed of your Great Companies return to secured territory.”

“Ey avnt,” I mumbled, the door behind me swinging closed.

“I’m sorry?” Luna asked, stepping closer. “Are you ok, Hoarfrost?”

“Chaos,” I managed, speaking slowly and deliberately, so Luna could understand me. “You, jealous, Empress?”

“I’m sorry?” Luna asked, taking a step backwards, confusion written across her face.

My suspicious rose as she visibly retreated under my words, and I was about to repeat myself, before I saw something that changed my minds.

Luna’s eyes changed from their normal pony-like structure, to a slitted, snake-like pupil. The change was visible for less than a second, and most ponies would have probably missed it, but I didn’t. The similarities of her changed eyes and Grafter’s eyes was not lost on me, and with a roar, I brought both of my axes out of their holster, bringing them towards Luna’s neck.

Comments

[iowaforever]

Well, looks like the only one who came out ahead was Scorpan... now the question remains if Hoarfrost can stand up to Luna/Nightmare Moon

[FleetlordAvatar]

Attacking the warmistress is not going to win you any friends.

[FenrisianBrony]

6377910
No, that it won't :P

[Nightmare Wolf]

Damn. Grafter's death was satisfying.
I'm afraid that Hoarfrost actions pushed Luna further towards chaos, than if he'd done nothing.
I hate when innocent get accused of treason, and as Hoarfrost is unable to explain himself, I fear what next chapter will bring.