• Published 15th May 2017
  • 1,026 Views, 41 Comments

Siege of Helm's Pink - Amethyst_Dawn



Pinkie Pie is many things: Bearer of the Element of Laughter, prankster, baker, friend to all, and near the top of the list is Ponyville’s resident Party Pony. However, there’s one talent Pinkie possessed that nopony ever suspected: Warlord.

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The Last Head High

Pinkie adjusted the targeting system on her small, rickety fighter, locking on to the dreadnought in front of her. She was the best hope the Cardboardians had in this final hour, and she'd be darned if the Costcolt Order was going to sink them now. She flicked a switch with the tip of her mane, speaking into a small headset hidden in her helmet.

“Oww!” She flinched at the brief screech of static that burst through the earpieces before focusing herself, “RD-8, how’s that transmission coming?” A series of chirps and beeps echoed through, bringing a cheery smile to her face. “Perfect! Patch me through, and let’s get this party started.”


Meanwhile, aboard the bridge of the dreadnought Pizzaclipse, a cloaked figure in a dark mask watched as his feet fired upon the escaping vessel Strataflyer. While the barrage did nothing through the ship’s shields, he knew that they would have to wear down eventually. The fleeing Cardboardians would have no escape today, their crimes against the Order would be repaid. Suddenly, one of the ship’s operators called up to him.

“Lord Rectrix Fells,” the cross-eyed mare shouted, “we have an incoming call from that fighter!”

Rectrix turned his attention to the mare, and then looked back out the window. He repeated the motion a few more times before his deep, garbled voice spoke out.

“What fighter?”

“That one!” The mare said casually, pointing out the window into space. Rectrix leaned forward, likely squinting to catch a glimpse of whatever the mare saw.

“I can’t… what color is it?”

“It’s black, sir. With orange stripes. It’s the one shaped like one of those little pieces in that jacks game.”

“How do you even see that?!”

The mare shrugged. “I dunno, should I patch the call through?”

Rectrix rubbed his mask with a gloved hoof. “Yes, fine, sure.”

There was a loud crackling over the bridge’s speakers before a familiar, disgustingly chipper voice rang through.

“Hi! It’s Ponk, Ponk Dameron.”

The air in the bay grew heavy as Rectrix’s mood darkened, his head sinking only barely. Several of the operators shrank into their stations, with the exception of the cross-eyed one. She remained oblivious to the whole situation, maintaining the signal manually just because she wanted something to do in this scene.

“What can I do for you, Ponk?” Rectix inquired, his disguised voice seething with hatred.

“What can you do?” Ponk asked indignantly, “You can explain why you’re hunting us down like this! We figured you and your kind didn’t like us living so close to you, so we decided to pack up our people and our home, and GTBO!”

“Crimes committed,” Rectrix barked, “are not undone when the criminals leave! You have offended Supreme Leader Smoke, and we’re here to--”

“Supreme what now?”

The genuine confusion in the pilot’s voice threw Rectrix off, leading him to shake his head to try and clear his thoughts.

“I’m sorry?”

“You said your Supreme Leader smokes?

Rectrix blinked. “No, our Supreme leader is Smoke.”

“You follow smoke?”

“Yes, proudly.”

“So do you use smoke signals, or do you just take a puff and do whatever comes to mind?”

“A puff of what?”

“Well, you said you smoke.”

“I don’t smoke!”

“But--”

“I FOLLOW Smoke!”

“Then who smokes?”

“Smoke is our leader, not an action.”


“Your leader is without action?”

“What? That’s not what I--”


On a distant planet, far away from the debate between idiots, Raylight Glimmer stood behind a cloaked figure, holding out an ancient weapon. Several small bird-like creatures gathered around, a golden one turning to its sister and muttering something about “out of all the Star Mares movies to reenact, they chose this one?!”

The cloaked figure turned around, removing her hood to reveal her identity. She was the legendary hero of the galaxy, Twiluke Sparklewalker. She had retreated to the planet of Thathilloverthere, hoping that the galaxy would be able to sort out its own problems. But alas, instead of acting like adults, the rest of the galaxy decided to try and find their big sister to fight their battles for them.

Twiluke took the weapon in her magic, a light of momentary hope flickering in Raylight’s eyes before Twiluke unceremoniously dropped the saber on the ground. She then grabbed Raylight with her magic, and threw the OP filly off a cliff.

There was a loud thud. The scene was over.


“When did barbecue sauce become a part of this?!” Rectrix demanded, stamping a hoof loudly on the floor.

“I don’t know!” Ponk shouted. “You were talking about smoked salmon, and I got hungry!”

“You don’t even eat salmon!”

“Are you kidding? Who doesn’t eat smoked salmon?!”

“I DON’T!”

The room grew silent, even the countless operators sitting as still as possible in the heavy air.

"RD-8," Ponk commanded, "end transmission. It's time for a flipping crusade."

There was a loud click, and the wall-eyed operator smiled at Rectrix. “She hung up, want me to call her back?” Rectix turned to her, glaring through the expressionless face on his helmet as another operator spoke up.

“Sir! Our sensors picked up the fighter! She’s coming in for an attack.”


Ponk cheered as she swooped and swerved around the toilet paper rolls being shot at her from all directions. She was the Cardboardian’s best pilot, and she’d be sure she could single-handedly take down the numerous defenses of an immense ship like the Pizzaclipse!

She aimed her water-zookas towards the shield generator, and--


“Sir, the enemy fighter has been defeated.”

Rectrix looked out the massive windows in time to see a toilet-paper-covered starfighter drift by.

“That worked?” He chuckled nervously. “She wasn’t too nimble, or agile?”

Walleye looked up at him with concern. “No, sir. Attacks like this are exactly why we built those turrets. I mean, could you imagine if our anti-fighter defenses were too slow to fight fighters?”


On the bridge of the Strataflyer, Vice Admiral Cordo winced as he watched Pinkie’s fighter become decimated with clean toiletries. Not even the most experienced space pilot could survive such ruthless fire. He threw his bright pink hair to one side, and held his arms up.

“Everyone!” He commanded, as much as a polite soccer mom could command a room of teenagers. “I need your attention, the evil corporations have cut our forces in half, and claimed our best fighter! I need all of you to make several blogs about how Costcolt is evil for chasing us off of their property, it’s our only chance to fight this threat! Except for you three.” He pointed to three little fillies who were panicking around, trying to keep everypony calm. “You three need to look as cute as possible! Surely the problem will be fixed if we show them that ponies are cute!”


Celestia took a long sip of her tea, raising an eyebrow at the antics taking place in the lot. Luna, sitting by her side, shifted nervously in place.

“How did Discord even get that position?” Twilight asked, raising her eyebrow. “His leadership is terrible.” The royal sisters exchanged a glance, and Celestia winked at her former pupil.

“Never underestimate the persuasive power of pink hair, dear Twilight.”

“What,” Twilight’s face went blank, and she looked up to the older Princess. “What’s that supposed to mean?”


The wreckage of the Strataflyer surfaced piece by piece, the twenty-odd survivors clambering out of the water in their escape pods. Commander Discourke lit a flame on his hand to light up the undersea cave, illuminating his elderly- but chiseled -facial features for all to see.

“Alright, who’s not dead? Sound off.”

“Here!” Called Fluttershylo Thatch, still shaken up from the attack.

“Here!” Shouted Dr. Strongbearity, hoisting her medical bag out of the water. Rainbow Ramirez and Gaeton Pieliere helped haul a few sputtering survivors out of a sinking submarine, and all watched in pity as several planks of cardboard either fell apart or sank back into the water.. A few more of the crew sounded off once they could, and the total count was noted.

“Well, only thing to do now is go forward.” Discourke said with a shrug. “Let’s gather up whatever supplies and personnel we have, and get the heck out of here.”

“What point is there?!” Pieliere shouted, her mane deflated and limp. “Cardbordia is gone, destroyed. We’re scattered and without shelter or home, we have no hope.”

Discourke said nothing, hanging his head. One by one, every other survivor followed suit, several slumping to the floor and wailing out in anguish.

“You’re wrong,”

Pieliere looked up to see a figure standing above her, holding the handle of a deflated inflatable microphone, her hooves crackling with electricity. Her magenta eyes filled with determination as she took one of the wounded over her shoulder, the charred and chopped remains of her multicolored mane fidgeting slightly in a sudden wind.

“Cardboardia is a people, not a place.” She stated, walking deeper into the cave. “And as a people, we must find a new home.”

Author's Note:

NEXT TIME ON SIEGE OF HELM'S PINK
RAINBOR: RAG IN THE ROCK

So... new update! :pinkiecrazy:
This was never dead, it's just not often I'm feeling goofy enough to add on to this.
As always, all opinions both positive and negative are welcome to be expressed in the comments. Leave an upvote if you're enjoying, downvote if you aren't. Feel free to point out where you think I screwed up if you want, and I'll see you next time!

Until Next Time, God Bless You!
~Amethyst Dawn :heart: