A mare and her dog

by cammera

Noon 46, fragment five: Dogs and explosions

Applejack crouched under a flying golem someone had thrown and leashed back her head, avoiding a hoof that seemed to have been aimed at her jaw, and decided to answer kindly by bitting deep into the arm and jerking her head, throwing the blue-vested opponent away.

Winona watched Orange Hat Horse, considered the Run and Bark approach, and decided that maybe the Glorious Save one would be better.

Yeah, it sounded nice.

So she gloriously ran at Applejack and jumped over her, purposefuly entering collision course with a pony that had been charging at Orange Hat Horse. While the armor resisted her teeth, she distracted her foe for long enough for Spike to hit it in the back of the head with the flat of his sword.

"Told you" was all Applejack said.

"You know-" another soldier lunged mindlessly at him, and he simply put the flat of the sword in the way of its face "You know, I had expected you to be more distressed"

The rest of their group moved on to charge at the remaining golems, and they took the opportunity to take a breather rather than lead the charge.

"Have you ever ran in glaciers as they break under you at five in the morning, having woken up from the frostbite of touching the water?"

"Good point" nodded Spike.

-º-

It was a nice day.

Not a drop of blood in his hands, too. Just clay dust.

His rib, however, hurt like mad despite the alcohol haze. It hadn't pierced anything yet, mainly thanks to the armor, but receiving any hit in the chest would be a bad idea right about now.

Which was what seemed to be about to happen. Or rather, that he'd hit one of the the war golems at rather fast speeds in a descending fashion. But this would've been a problem even without the rib in most cases.

Hey, a bird.

"Big guy!" a pair of claws caught his arm "Nightmares! Easy on the sweets, lead soldier!" Cried Mariela when she felt his weight, losing height immediately.

"Sol-" Quibra's eyes opened wide "I am not a soldier" the alcohol haze took a red tint for a moment, but the pain in the arm she had caught was somewhat more relevant "Let go, I only need to fall on my feet!"

"If you say so?" she let go.

War golems were mainly cases of rough, ugly utilitarianism. Where other combat-class golems played for intimidation, people who made war machines cared little for aspect, so the end result was, in this case, hunched bipedal figures that moved in dozens of little legs, their arms six meters long each and ending in griffon-esque claws, all of it protected by steel and ceramic plates, the head little more than a square protruding from the thorax between the arms.

In the way down, he contorted until his feet were in the correct angle. There was a moment of peace when the only things were the sound of the wind and the increasing ruby glow of the gems in his knees and back.

Then he crashed down which, well, wasn't a nice experience even with the training he had. There was a sound of steel being deformed and clay shattering under his feet, and a burning heat flowing from his legs to his arms, which he knew well. Every kind of energy, no mater how efficient the container, produces heat as a byproduct. Or so said lil' bro, at least.

So he unloaded the kinetic energy his lower armor had absorbed back into the remains of the golem's head, tightening both fists together, and climbed down the little distance left to the floor.

Yeah, a nice day over all. A good rum bottle would've improved it, thought.

Mariela flew down to him, whistling at what he had done in the golem.

"Is this what diamond dog armor can do?"

"Its an old model" he panted. It did take a toll in the user, like all high-grade magic armors "D'you want something? I need a drink"

"Are you under Twilight's orders, by chance?" he shook his head "Can you escort a lady to the dreamer's temple, then? Wars are not my fortë"

He considered it for a moment, then shrugged, "If we can pass by a bar"