My Little Equestroid: Stompin' is Magic

by ForeverChasingRainbows

Chapter 1 - Everyone Starts Somewhere

Thirty-Thirty's backside had gone numb.

For most creatures that was a normal side effect of sitting in one place for too long, but it was somewhat exceptional for this particular stallion. Given that the majority of his hindquarters - and the whole of the legs attached to them, along with his shoulders and forelegs - were made of metal, it took a lot to bring on the peculiar tingling sensation. Thirty shifted his weight slowly to try and get some feeling back, hoping that the faint whirring and creaking of his armoured artificial limbs would go unnoticed.

The white-maned grey stallion often found it difficult to go unnoticed. Six feet tall at the shoulder and fitted with heavy cybernetic limbs, his body was not a subtle presence in any environment, and even among the multiple alien races inhabiting New Texas his equine form was unique. Not just on New Texas, either; to the best of his and anyone else's knowledge, he was the last of his kind still living. The artificially engineered - in both the mechanical and biological sense - race of Equestroids were a dying breed. The secret and unethical experimentation in intelligence enhancement and cybernetics that had birthed the race of sentient equine cyborgs had only been partially successful, and Thirty-Thirty had, as his name suggested, been the last produced before the illegal deep space lab had been shut down. The others had long since passed on, leaving him the sole occupant of their once-great sacred hall on New Texas. Alone and forgotten by all but a few, he had stood sentinel over the artefacts of his departed people.

Until he'd met BraveStarr, of course. One of Thirty-Thirty's ears flicked as a ghost of remembered pain flashed across his jaw. That had been one heck of a fight.

His heavily armoured legs were the only outward sign Thirty was no ordinary Terrestrial horse and, along with the red riding saddle strapped around his barrel, were his only externally visible artificial parts. There was more to the stallion than met the eye however - as many outlaws on the desert planet he called home had learned to their cost. At the moment though, he was bemoaning the unequal efficiency of his dual circulatory system. The mechanical one keeping his fuel mix moving was fine of course, it had been meticulously designed and built for that specific purpose - the lack of blood reaching his hindquarters, on the other hand, was yet again demonstrating that the people responsible for his creation were still not all that good at meddling with biological systems.

I'm thirsty, I'm bored, an' now my darn butt's gone to sleep. Why do I gotta sit through this anyhow? he groused internally, risking opening one brown eye to peek at the others sat around the small fire. This is normally Shaman's deal. Thirty-Thirty's grey-furred muzzle crinkled as he grimaced in annoyance.

Shadows jumped and danced across the walls of the small rock chamber at the top of Star Peak, cast by the three figures seated in a tight triangle around the fire at its center. The place was sparsely furnished, with only a simple cot and a few pieces of wooden mystical regalia scattered about. A finely-wrought long wooden staff, its surface covered in carved runes, stood leaning against the cot. The empty air and long drop where one of the cave walls should have been would probably have been unsettling to many, but Shaman preferred the sight of the open sky. He had spent many nights like this one staring skywards, awaiting his reunion with his pupil and adoptive son BraveStarr.

The two humans sat across the fire from Thirty-Thirty's hulking equine form were almost a study in the effects of ageing. Marshal BraveStarr was at his physical peak, toned muscles clearly visible beneath his tanned skin, while the man's mentor and adoptive father Shaman showed clear signs of his advancing years.

Shaman was the very picture of an ancient tribal elder, dressed in a simple green and brown belted robe and worn, comfortable moccasins. The light from the fire highlighted the lines and wrinkles marking his weathered face, and the draught created by its heat tugged at a few long white hairs that had broken free of his red and blue patterned headband. The old man sat silently, as he had for the past several hours, with his eyes closed and hands neatly folded in his lap.

Thirty's friend and partner BraveStarr appeared similarly calm and comfortable. The Galactic Marshal's uniform yellow jumpsuit was tinted a burning orange by the low firelight, and the silver star pinned to his blue armoured chestplate sparkled in the dimly-lit chamber. BraveStarr had removed his white Stetson and placed it on the ground beside him, leaving his neat black ponytail exposed.

Together, BraveStarr and Thirty-Thirty were the law on New Texas. With the help of Deputy Fuzz - one of the native Prairie People - and Judge JB, they kept both Fort Kerium and the outlying mining settlements safe from the outlaws and claim jumpers that plagued the desert planet - and the deeper threat that lurked behind the worst of them.

Usually involves a little less sittin' around an' a little more stompin' than this, though.

Thirty-Thirty wasn't sure exactly how meditating and talking to spirits was supposed to help against whatever scheme Tex Hex and his outlaw gang were mixed up in this time, but Shaman wanted to do it - which in turn meant BraveStarr had agreed to it and, of course, one unfortunate techno-horse had been dragged along for the ride. Literally, in the case of the journey to Shaman's home at Star Peak. Not for the first time, the idle fantasy of BraveStarr carrying him around on *his* back for a change crossed the stallion's mind. The human was certainly strong enough to do it when he called on the powers of his spirit animals.

Just 'cos I got a built-in saddle. I get no respect.

Just as Thirty-Thirty reached the limit of his patience, Shaman's measured, careful tones broke the silence. "It is done."

Thirty shook out his thick white mane and sighed emphatically. "Good, I'm pretty sure my legs're about to seize up."

"C'mon big pardner," BraveStarr chuckled, retrieving his hat, "sittin' quiet for a little while ain't gonna hurt ya."

"I know this may not be your idea of a good time, Thirty-Thirty," Shaman said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "but the spirits of the Celestial realm need to be informed of Stampede's intrusion. The power he could steal were he to gain entry there would prove disastrous for our world." The old man's smile faded. "However, I am worried by the spirits' response. It appears that they have already noticed Stampede's attempts to enter their realm, but were unaware of who was behind them. Their concern at learning of Stampede's involvement was... troubling. They seemed to fear that those they dispatched to investigate the problem would be exposed to unnecessary danger, and begged my aid in this world."

Thirty-Thirty's mood immediately brightened, and he turned an eager eye to his partner. "Marshal?"

BraveStarr nodded as he rose to his feet. "I suppose we'd better go make a house call on our good friend Tex."

"Oh, I hope he's expectin' company," Thirty-Thirty said, clambering to his hooves. He stretched out each of his legs in turn, then flicked his tail and turned to trot towards the passageway winding down the interior of the rock spire. "We've been sittin' around here for too dang long, I'm overdue some quality stompin' time."

"Now hold up just a second Thirty-Thirty," BraveStarr said, raising a white-gloved hand, "we don't even know where we're headed. Not to mention it's the middle 'o the night."

The stallion halted, turning back from the exit. "Oh. Right."

Shaman walked to his cot and retrieved his staff before speaking again. "My magic will see you safely home to rest. Your search should begin in the morning, in the exhausted Kerium mines to the north of town." Clasping the staff in both hands, the ageing mystic gently rapped its base against the floor. A pale yellow glow enveloped the staff, before spreading to Shaman's two guests.

"Be careful, BraveStarr," Shaman said as a glow intensified. "Stampede is investing a great effort into this plan, and he will be reluctant to see it brought to nothing."

"Don't worry Shaman. We'll be careful," BraveStarr said confidently.

"Go in peace, my son," Shaman replied, raising a hand in farewell as the Marshal and his equine companion faded from view.

As the pair rematerialised in the Fort Kerium Marshal Post, Thirty-Thirty shifted from hoof to metal hoof awkwardly. "Ugh, hate it when he does that. Always makes my darn palms itch."

The Marshal Post almost looked like it had been torn straight from the Old West of Earth, save for a few technological touches. The metal reinforcement to the walls and door, and the large communications and scanning console - operated by Deputy Fuzz during the day - somehow managed to blend in with the more traditional wooden desk and wall-mounted noticeboard. Both were covered in paper; dozens of wanted posters and notices pinned atop one another covered the noticeboard, and - somewhat unusually - the desk was also almost overflowing with paperwork. The currently unoccupied cells along two walls of the large main room were also a little more secure and comfortably furnished than one might expect in a small town jail, but sentient rights had advanced a few hundred years since that one lawless frontier had given way to so many more out among the stars. An open archway in one corner led to the living area, which contained three small bedrooms. One each for the Marshal and his partner, and a guest room for anyone that didn't warrant a cell.

"How's that work?" BraveStarr asked, confused. "You don't even have palms when you're not in Fighting Mode."

"Why d'ya suppose it bugs me so much?" Thirty replied, staring at the sole of an upturned forehoof. He gave a resigned snort, and placed the heavy metal appendage back on the wooden floor with a solid thunk. "I'm gonna hit the hay before I hit the hay, if y'know what I mean. Ya want anything?"

"No thanks big pard, I'm not hungry." BraveStarr dropped into the large high-backed chair behind his desk and leaned back against the wall, resting his boots on a small square of exposed tabletop and pulling his Stetson down over his eyes.

"Y'ain't gonna sleep like that again when there's a perfectly good bed right next door are ya?"

"Eeyup," BraveStarr mumbled through his hat, "chair's comfy."

Thirty-Thirty rolled his eyes and headed for his own room, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He tried to soften the heavy impacts of his hooves on the floor as much as possible in case Fuzz was also sleeping in the station that night.

Why do I even bother tryin' to house-train him...

**Equestria**

On a world very far away from - and yet also strangely close to - New Texas, the sun was making its way down towards the western horizon. In a patch of dry scrubland oddly reminiscent of the desert planet, two colourful equine figures were having an animated discussion while rooting around amongst the rocks.

"Look," Rainbow Dash complained, "I'm just saying that if somepony jumps out and yells 'Welcome to A-a-ppleloosa!' again I'm zappin' them in the flank."

Applejack recoiled in surprise, stopping her examination of the nearby terrain. "What?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Rainbow Dash flipped over a knee-high rock with a grunt, briefly casting an eye over the ground beneath. "It just starts to get annoying after you've heard it like four million times."

"Cousin Braeburn said it once when we got off'a the train, RD," Applejack said matter-of-factly.

Rainbow Dash waved a cyan hoof dismissively. "Well it feels like a lot more. And it's annoying."

"No it ain't," Applejack protested, "'s just a friendly greetin'." Her muzzle scrunched up for a moment, and she added "You're annoyin'."

"Your face is annoying," Dash replied, before sticking out her tongue playfully.

A third voice interrupted the pair's increasingly foalish banter. "GIRLS! Can we please not do this right now? Or, well, ever?" The third voice continued in a mutter pitched just loud enough to be overheard as it drew closer, "I swear it's like magic kindergarten all over again sometimes..."

Rainbow Dash and Applejack glanced at each other solemnly, then grinned and chorused "Well excuse us, Princess!" as a purple-furred head emerged from behind a nearby rock.

Twilight Sparkle groaned before smacking herself in the face with a hoof.

**Twilight Sparkle**

Twilight Sparkle was, with the most sarcastic of internal sighs, a magical pony Princess. This was exactly as horrible a fate as it sounded, a fact her friends were quite glad to remind her of whenever they felt like annoying her. Sure, she had gained a pair of wings to go with her horn, but all the stupid things did was itch and get caught on stuff. And crashing was an all-too-frequent unpleasant side effect of learning to fly. Other than that, the only 'benefits' seemed to be an unending stream of paperwork and everypony suddenly acting weird around her.

Well, weirder than usual. Twilight had already firmly established that all the ponies in Ponyville were crazy anyway. She even had a flipchart with the data arranged into easily-digestible graphs, but still nopony ever sat through the whole thing. Ironically, that lack of interest in a fascinating sociological study was yet more evidence they were all nuts - as the last four pages of the presentation detailed.

They'd come to this stupid, hot desert because there was a small but noticeable amount of dark magic seeping into the world from somewhere... outside. Twilight, as one of a vanishingly small number of ponies both trained and trusted in the careful employment of dark magic, had been sent out on this rather aggravating little adventure with her five friends to find and deal with the magical leak once and for all. The fuchsia starburst mark at the top of her thighs represented a prodigious talent for magic, after all. She was definitely the right pony for the job; and wherever the Element of Magic and recently-crowned Princess of Friendship went, so went her best friends - the bearers of the other five Elements of Harmony.

After spending most of the day channelling small bursts of dark magic through her horn, while her friends patrolled around the area searching for the feedback resonance that would betray the location of whatever magical anomaly was causing the problem, Twilight was both tired and annoyed. She had a raging hornache and there was an annoying sort of ringing buzzing noise hovering just on the edge of her hearing.

Twilight didn't even notice she'd drifted off, lost in thought, until her reverie was broken by a hoof poking her in the muzzle, accompanied by a loud cry of "HONK!"

Either the ponies in front of her had spontaneously multiplied, some of her friends had learned to teleport, or she'd been standing there preoccupied for significantly longer than-

"Watcha thinkin' about? Ooh, ooh, don't tell me. Is iiiit... Bananas? Trees? The philosophical nature of truth? Oh, I know, oranges! No? The colour orange? Oooooh come on, am I getting any warmer here? I'm running out of- OH! Is it rocks? Only there's a lot of them around here so I guess you might be-"

Twilight applied the only method observed to effectively shut Pinkie Pie up, and stuck a hoof in the peppy pink party pony's mouth. Pinkie Pie's blue eyes briefly crossed as she glanced at the offending limb, before she did her best to arrange her face into a frustrated pout. Most ponies would have found that hard to do with a hoof shoved in their muzzle, but Pinkie managed to get her point across regardless. Twilight tentatively pulled her hoof free with a quiet 'pop', grinning sheepishly. Along with the eternally effervescent. endlessly energetic Pinkie Pie, two more familiar ponies had joined Applejack and Rainbow Dash while Twilight had been distracted.

Rarity was eyeing Twilight's spit-soaked hoof with obvious disgust. The well-groomed fashionista had not enjoyed the group's previous visit to the lands surrounding Appleloosa, and she wasn't in the best of moods. Fluttershy, on the other hoof, looked more concerned than anything - in as much as it was possible to tell from the one aqua eye peering around her mane. As Twilight processed the presence of all of her friends, Fluttershy ruffled her wings nervously and spoke up.

"Um, is everything okay Twilight? If you don't, you know..." the timid yellow pegasus trailed off, scuffing a hoof on the ground.

"Huh? Yes, yes, I'm fine," Twilight replied hurriedly. "Just thinking about stuff. And... things."

"Okay. Sorry."

Glancing at Fluttershy briefly, Rarity cut in. In a tone of entirely innocent enquiry, she asked "Stuff?"

"Yes," Twilight nodded.

"And things?" Rarity continued brightly, in a truly professionally feigned tone of sincere interest.

Twilight nodded again rapidly, not noticing the way her left eye was starting to twitch. "Uh-huh."

"Twilight dear," Rarity commented flatly, raising an eyebrow, "you're going to have to do a little better than that."

"I can't- it's-" Twilight broke off, stomping a hoof angrily. "Ugh! It's very complicated. There are scientific reasons!" What was wrong with these ponies, couldn't they see that what she was doing was important?

"And I'm sure they're very good ones," Rarity conceded, nodding graciously, "but something is obviously weighing on your mind. Which leaves us with no choice, I'm afraid. Pinkie?"

Twilight paused in confusion as her friends dove for cover. Her brain caught up just in time for her to tense up - as absolutely nothing happened.

"Just a second!" Pinkie's voice emerged from behind a cluster of rocks to Twilight's right, followed by frantic muttering and several rather strange noises. "I'm not- argh, come on..."

"Pinks, this was sorta time-critical y'know?" Twilight turned back to her left as Rainbow Dash called out from her own hiding spot.

A loud metallic clang preceded Pinkie Pie's response, making Twilight flinch. "I know!" the pink pony yelled. There was a faint 'plunk' and her voice became slightly muffled. "But this is an unconventional load! It's a party cannon, not a-"

Pinkie Pie was cut off by an ear-flattening bang, and Twilight's steadily mounting confusion was compounded by the impact of a ballistic blanket.

Author's Note:

Standard disclaimers: MLP and its associated characters, world etc. belong to Hasbro. BraveStarr did belong to Filmation, not sure what happened to the rights after they folded but it's not mine either. This is a non-profit fan work, support the official releases (seriously go watch BraveStarr, it's cool), please don't sue me, you know the drill.

---

Dedicated to the memory of Ed Gilbert, voice of Thirty-Thirty and Shaman amongst a plethora of my cartoon favourites of the eighties and nineties - Thrust and Blitzwing (Transformers), Baloo (Talespin), General Hawk (GI Joe), Looten Plunder (Captain Planet) and many more.

Comments

[wlam]

The fuchsia starburst

Would you believe me if I told you that this is literally the first time I see someone spell 'fuchsia' correctly here?