• Published 17th Nov 2011
  • 6,297 Views, 935 Comments

Fallout: Equestria- The Last Sentinel - Adder1

It's hard to kill memories when you remember everything.

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Prologue: One Last Story

NOTE: This fanfiction is based on Fallout: Equestria by Kkat and somewhat Fallout Equestria: Project Horizons by Somber. Familiarity with the source material (here) may aid your understanding of the story.

Additionally, this story does include music. Links will be placed within the text itself if you wish to play it as you read along or at the end if you feel it detracts from things or messes with the pace of your reading. Read, listen, and enjoy.

Fallout: Equestria- The Last Sentinel
By Adder1

Prologue: One Last Story

Early evening. The storyteller spoke in a gravely, tired, tattered voice.

It's been a while since I've had a request. The last time somepony asked me to tell him or her a story was...

Seven? Was it seven years ago? Eight?

Oh, two months? Heh, my memory must finally be failing me. Had to happen eventually. I think it was just a retelling of “Little Red Riding Hoof” anyways. Nothing important enough to remember.

I'll admit, though, it's still been a while since somepony asked me for a story. Normally, it's just an old pony's tale or a sprite tale or something or the other. But you ask this old stallion for a real one? It's still been ages for that. I'm not sure if I still have it in me. I don't recommend it, son.

Nothing better to do?

Welllllll, alright.

One last story.

But first, a little history.

A light chuckle, like the first one he had in years.

Okay, okay, I get it. You don't like history. You have to admit, though, for a good story, you're gonna need some sort of background.

A little about myself first. Way back when, I used to be a historian and an equinpologist. So, why-

You don't know what an equinpologist is? Luna Almighty, what are they teaching you in primary these days?

Well, let me explain. An equinpologist studies equinpology, an area of science concerned with equine biological and cultural diversity across time and space.

I know that look. Don't worry. Okay, let me rephrase that. An equinpologist studies equinpology, an area of science concerned with how equines are similar and different both in respect to their body and to their mannerisms, and how these things change over time and from place to place. How ponies, griffins, buffalo and zebras are similar and different in how they act socially, politically, the works. You following me now?


So, why am I telling you this? Because historians and equinpologists regard and hold dear one value, one virtue above all else (Well, almost above all else).


You cannot teach history or equinpology with lies. Truth, above all else, must be observed and upheld. Distort history or equinpology, and you disgrace our heritage. You disgrace where we come from and what we've been through to get where we are today.

So, why am I telling you this? Because all that I say is the truth. Granted, some details are based off of my view on things, but for the most part, it's truth. Even as incredible or improbable as things might seem, they're all true.

Because this story is mine.

And you might want to grab a friend or two. One pony's nice, but for this, I'd like a bit of a bigger audience. It's a long story and a special one at that.

There we go.

Now, remember when I said that first we'd have a little history? Here it comes.

Look around you, mares and gentlestallions, colts and fillies. Not a tree for miles. Flat, barren landscape. Always in shadows, even during the day because of the Luna-damned Pegasi Enclave and their cloud cover.

An indignant exhale of cold, old breath.

Sorry. My feelings are... a little strong on the matter. Ahem, moving on.

So yes. Barren. Dark. Infested with Luna knows how many raiders, slavers, bandits, thieves, murderers, and all manner of mutated beasts.

Then, there's radiation, taint, enervation- the land itself is against you.

He held his forelegs wide and in the air, as if showcasing the land of dread around them.

Welcome to the Wasteland.

Now, young-'uns, you might all be wondering if it was always like this. After all, how on Equestria would everypony- Hell, why would anypony- be living in such a nightmarish place?

Here's where the history comes in. It wasn't always like this. I remember back to a time when the land was lush and green, when the air was fresh. The land was pure, and cities rose up across the land, small hamlets dotting the earth as respites from urban sprawl. I remember back when the land was bountiful, when the sun and moon still shone in the sky.

The old unicorn held a hoof to his heart.

Blessed be Luna and Celestia.

I remember back to a time when everyone- not just ponies- was united under the Six Virtues of Friendship.







He smiled in nostalgia, eyes glinting in remembrance. Then his expression darkened.

And I remember when we threw it away.

The very air seemed to chill. Nocturnal noises seemed to silence under his will. Goosebumps crawled under their coats and their spines tingled from the sudden cold that seemed to seize everything.

And I remember when we threw it all away.

Industry is a good thing. It provides us with the means to move forward and improve the standards of living for everyone- not just everypony.

But... perhaps we took one step too far. Neigh, we took one step too far.

With industry, we learned how to wrest energy from the land without the use of magic through the use of mediums such as coal and oil.

Coal and oil we didn't have in our lands.

But the zebras had in theirs.

They needed gems to power their weaponry to hold back the Wilds.

Gems they didn't have in their lands.

But we ponies had in ours.

So we traded. And we both prospered. We made great strides in technology. One step too far now became another. And another.

And another.

Over time, we less traded amongst one another and simply took. We took what we needed to power our advancing societies.

But when you take, and you take, and you take... it isn't long before somebody feels somebody's been taking too much.

The honesty that held us together crumbled.

It was replaced with deception. Cheating truth to take more than we needed because we needed.

The kindness of our agreement faded away.

It was replaced with cruelty. To simply swindle, steal, or rob what we wanted.

The generosity of our charity from one equine to another eroded.

It was replaced by greed. For what we had was never enough.

The laughter once shared by friends was long gone.

It was replaced by hurt. Because we were now stepping forward too far, and we were aching inside.

The loyalty that once held together the treaty of trade was no longer doctrine.

It was replaced by betrayal. If you won't help us, you can expect a stab in the back.

The magic of our land was no more.

It was replaced by the machine. For we thought and worked too much, and for we felt and cared too little.

Friendship crumbled.

Enmity remained in the shards.

Enmity breeds. It breeds hatred, anger, paranoia, fear, apathy, insolence.

And it breeds war.

Equestria was unfamiliar to war. In the beginning, it was childish, almost laughable. Almost. Remember, no more laughter.

Then it grew violent and bloody. After all, the zebras knew the art of war all too well.

We stopped taking steps forward. We galloped. Galloped to new heights on the piles of the dead.

Many things can change in the decades of war. You can change the reason for fighting. The tactics, the propaganda. You can change the weaponry. The methods, the means.

But the more things change, the more they stay the same.

And war...

War, war never changes.

It never has. It never will. It always destroys, destroys equinity, creation, life, ingenuity. War is like an empty void that swallows everything up and still hungers for more.

And so nothing changed when we galloped forward to megaspells and balefire bombs.

The details are trivial and pointless. The reasons, of course, were purely equine ones. We purged our land, and it was born anew. Baptism by spellfire.

Welcome to the Wasteland.

Some lucky thousands were spared. The more fortunate holed themselves in fortress-like Stables and new generations sprung forth; I was a part of one of them. The less fortunate were changed forever by the balefire, necrotized by the foul magic.

When the Stables opened up, ponykind emerged into a harsh land as unforgiving then as it is now. Some tried to bring back civilization, creating small havens that grew into great prominence. Others devolved into things... less equine... and took from these small havens.

Enmity, enmity never changes.

A light, husky laugh escaped him.

I guess I still have it in me after all. Apparently enough to gather quite the crowd. And I see some new faces...

A sly, old smile played across his lips. He no longer looked old as he took a seat, his plates of ancient armor clinking gently as he got comfortable.

Enough history. Let's get to the story.

My name is Frost Windchill. Pleased to meet you.


One last story.

* * *

Footnote: Unlockables added: Character Voice Actor- Logan Cunningham as Frost

Soundtrack- Theme of the Storyteller, Frost

Soundtrack- Theme of Fallout: Equestria- The Last Sentinel

Audio Recording- The Prologue as Read by Mathwyn

Author's Note:

Many thanks to Kkat, for we have her to thank for the existence of Fallout: Equestria. And, it also goes to you for taking the time to read a storyteller's latest attempt to create. Critique of any sort is much appreciated.

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