• Published 26th Feb 2018
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Blazing a Trail to the Past. - Daylight_Dreamer

After a freak accident, I wound up in equestria with a Jeep. Offroading where nobodys driven before. Or am I?

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38- Daylights last night.

Hey Daylight,

I trust by the time you're reading this, you know who you are. So I'm not going to confuse myself by using your new name.

My name is Private Jerry Sharpe. I just want to say, I thought your father was crazy, but I would have stayed with him either way. We have known each other since grade school, and if he's running off on an adventure I wanted to be there to have his back.

I have been studying war tactics since I was a child. I believe the best thing I can do is give you a little insight on why you felt the need to bring us here.

I know you want to know who you were fighting, but that secret is to be locked up. I can say this, it is alarmingly similar to America's history. Around the time wearing a stove pipe was fashionable.

The short answer as to why you needed us is that ponies don't have any tactics. I don't think they really even know what started it all. It was over the bat-ponies. We managed to figure that much out, but no one is offering them refuge.

The root of the problem is that without strategy neither side really knows their objective. The only thing they know is that they have to win. They only know that winning means defeating the enemy and that the enemy refuses to surrender.

How does one defeat an enemy that will not surrender?

You destroy them... Burn them to the ground. No matter how peace-loving a people are, they will eventually figure this out.
I couldn't believe what I was reading. This could easily be the only message I get from the man I was named after. Who gave his life for this cause, and he was skirting around the idea that ponies were killing each other in large numbers.

Ponies weren't allowed to know who the enemy was but this was one American to another, I learned about our civil war in grade school. North versus South. Brother against brother. 'Stovepipe' was a pretty obvious reference to President Lincoln's hat. To an American that is. An Equestrian wouldn't have a clue what he was talking about. I can't say I'd expect most of the earth to get that reference.

I put a pin in that thought.
You knew you had to put an end to it, but you didn't know what to do. Your attempted negotiations resulted in four villages being destroyed.

That's when you decided to come up with a strategy of you're own, but you had no idea where to start. What does one do when you have no time to learn something for yourself?

You call in an expert, but nopony knew anything about it. That's why Equestria was in such a mess.

You said you had seen visions of a people to witch war is almost second nature. While I resent the assumption, you're not wrong.

You had found a set of stone tablets containing ancient potion recipes. You were able to translate them and were foolish enough to publish them in a book. I hope against hope Kizzy's is the only one left. Anyway, that's how you got to Earth, and that's how you brought us.

The last resort was basically to make ponies forget they were ever involved in a war, but certain things couldn't be destroyed and others shouldn't. Ponies will remember. That's why you're back.

Any questions? I hope not. There may be a good chance I'm still alive on earth as you read this, but you're out of radio range.

-J. Sharpe

P.S. As with the others, the rest of this journal is encrypted. Just move on to book 3 when ready.
I was really hoping journal 3 turned up, but I was clueless where to look.

Well, I had one clue, and two ponies to ask about it.

Gilda was laid back on the couch reading a book about rehabilitating broken wings so I thought I may as well continue my own research.

That was my last journal though. Until Scootaloo gave me hers that is. Then I had to decide whether or not to read it before I found the last one.

I had only one lead so I figured I should look into it. I grabbed another book from my shelf. This one had my cutie mark on it, and pretty stars.
Dear Twilight Sparkle,

It has come to my attention that you are in possession of a spellbook authored by one Daylight Dreamer. I wish to request access to it. As well as anything else you may have on the subject.

Your subject, Jerry Blade
I waited a moment as the ink melted into the page, but she responded quickly.
Dear Jerry,

You know you don't have to be all formal.

I did have that book. I let Scootaloo borrow it to see if Zecora could fix her wings. She had the potion made but Zecora says she never stopped by. I hope Apple Bloom didn't try.

Anyway, I sent it back to Celestia, I had borrowed them from the restricted section. I'm actually surprised Celestia said we could make one of the potions. You'll have to ask her. All I have is his journal, and aside from the page Apple Bloom got a hold of, I showed you everything legible in that.

That page was literally just the summoning spell with a few strands of blueish grey hair stuck to the other side in wax next to the words 'I give this willingly to whoever has the talent to use it.' A few ingredients were smudged off the list too. Starswirl had to fix it.

Sorry, I can't help but I'm sure Celestia would be willing to let you see the books I had.

Your friend,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S. Don't be a stranger, stop by the castle some time.
I was going to ask Twilight where she found the journal but I was drawn into a daydream.
I was flying over a wooded area, I looked to my right to see an empty valley. Apple Seed had wanted to start an orchard there, Jerry had mentioned wishing he could stick around to see it. Sadly, neither dream was meant to come true.

I looked ahead to see the familiar red roof of my old hut. I motioned to my wing pony and came in for a landing. I was trying my best to look stronger than I felt. I didn't want them worrying about me.

I was worn thin. I couldn't take much more, I coughed into my hoof and saw blood. My insides were all torn up. I had escaped death one too many times. Potions heal you, sometimes when you would otherwise have died, but scars still build up. Every pony's days are numbered, and mine should have run out so many times I lost count.

I only had to set one last thing in place. The war was over, or at least paused. I had sent my human friends back a long time ago, but my work was not done. I had spent the last several decades cleaning up the mess with what remained of the Protectors and the help of our foals. We were just trying to make Equestria into the place everypony knew was worth fighting for again.

Apple Seed and Drum Beat didn't even see the end of the war or their foals grow up. The others made it to reasonably old ages, aside from Kizzy, who died after Zecora's birth. If only I had been there for her, some Protector of Kinship I turned out to be.

I was the last one. More like I was the only one too stubborn to die. Not until ALL the pieces were in place anyway.

I had just put the element's back in the castle where they belonged. We never managed to use them to their full potential, but that we could use them at all was a tribute to our friendship. I shed a tear at my loss but hoped for Equestria's sake that an even greater group of friends would find them.

"You OK grandpa?" asked the young stallion that up until this point had been acting like my wing pony. He was black, with a purple mane and a lightning bolt cutie mark.

"I just have to finish this, Fast Lane," I said, "I don't want your grandchildren to see what you almost did."

"Is this about that journal?" He asked, "and those humans you told me about?"

"Yes. We must keep their memory alive in our family until the world is ready to know," I said before coughing again.

"Grandpa," He pleaded, "You're unwell, we have to get you to Zecora's."

"Just give me a few moments with my old hut," I assured him, "I fear this is my last chance to see it."

"Very well," he said, "but everypony is waiting to hear what you have to say."

"I won't be long," I assured him again, "You should see if the garden isn't too overgrown to salvage a few ingredients. Zecora could use them." He was already going for the garden as I turned and opened the weathered wooden door.

I hadn't been there in years. Thick cobwebs and dust covered everything within. Most of the bookshelves were already emptied the last time I packed up and left. The secluded location had lost its thrill somewhere along the way.

I reached into the cupboard and grabbed a green vial from a shelf. I poured it on the floor and slowly the fluid ran along an otherwise invisible seem that extended around a square section of the floor. The potion then vanished revealing a cellar door. Opening the cellar door I saw a metal door just beneath it with an odd keyhole at the bottom.

I set a journal in the center of the metal door and closed the cellar door again. I pulled a red vial off the shelf and poured it in the same fashion concealing the door once again.

That was it, my work was done. I could retire at the age of 85.

I pulled a granola bar from my pack and drank my last vitality potion with it. They were the only thing keeping the lump of scar tissue that was once my heart beating, but they were tearing my insides apart at the same time. Drinking one more would cause enough internal bleeding for me to bleed to death in an hour. Not drinking one meant my heart would stop. I was already a dead pony walking.

That didn't matter. I had accomplished more in this life than many ponies could dream of and now all the pieces were in place. Even now as my soul yearned to leave the bruised and shattered vessel that currently contained it, I could feel it being drawn to the crystal in the other world.

It's only been a couple years there, but I was willing to bet Jeremy married that girl he told me about. They should be looking to have a child in a couple more.

I hoped I would be a good son. There was just no pleasing my pony father, but what do you expect from a pony named Flying Nightmare? I was always glad mom named me.

I took one last chance to ponder life in this old kitchen. In my youth, I had always thought this hut would be my final resting place. It had been my home for so long. It was the place I would sneak to after Wonderbolt drills to read whatever potion books I could get my hooves on. Where I dragged my fallen platoon members to when I knew the healers were overstretched already. Where I raised my daughter, Sweet Dreams, and where she held me as her mother died in my hooves. But this was not where I planned to rest these tired bones.

I owed it to Zecora to let her make me comfortable, and to my family to let them be by my side as I went. I had to leave this place one last time. I would see it again. Not like this, but I would see it. I could not say the same about my family.

Fast Lane wasn't being dramatic when he was worried about carrying me, Zecora's hut was a long flight away. I had two options. One was to take it easy, fly nice, and collapse on Zecora's doorstep as the vitality potion wore off. The other was to fly like a bat-pony out of Tartarus and collapse from exhaustion with a good hour to catch my breath before the potion stopped working.

I made my way out of the cabin.

"Bet I can beat you to Zecora's," I said walking past my grandson.

"Grandpa," He scoffed, "You'll kill yourself."

"Come on," I pleaded, "Give an old Wonderbolt one last good chase." I kicked off full speed into the setting sun, leaving my bewildered grandson in my dust, but I knew he would catch up. He was already a Wonderbolt himself. Fast Lane Dreamer always liked making me proud. He didn't know it, but this was his last chance.

I knew this choice meant my family would be pissed at me for exerting myself, but for once in my life, I was being selfish. I wanted one last look at the faces I was leaving behind. I had told them I needed to say something to everypony, they had no idea it would be my last words.
"Dweeb, Dweeb," Gilda was shaking me, "I'm here, everything is OK. Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't care if they yell! Just let me see them," I screamed out of nowhere while sobbing into my hand's with Gilda shaking me. I threw my arms around her and took a deep breath. She smelled sweet, I wasn't ready for that. I coughed into her feathers.

"I'm sorry," I said, but I couldn't hold in another wave.

"Shhhhh," was all Gilda said. She just pulled me in and let me get it out.

"You OK now, Dweeb?" Gilda asked once it was over. Her voice was soft and caring. It sounded strange coming out of her beak.

"I will be," I assured her, "sorry to be such a crybaby."

"What happened?" She asked, "You looked like you were taking a nap so I figured I would make some scones for when Scootaloo gets back from school. When I got back in here you were crying and you wouldn't respond until you screamed just then. Who's gonna yell at you?"

"Ever since I learned of my past," I sighed, "I've been getting visions that are memories of my old life. I just relived my last day as a pony. I knew exactly when it was going to happen. I wanted to see my family first. I was old and falling apart but I pushed myself to the limit for one last hour with all of them knowing it would start with a pointless lecture."

"What are you..." she started to ask, "Oh, you mean the last day before you..." She just pulled me back in, "Come over to the couch. You should lay down."

"I would like a nap," I said, "but I have to finish what I was doing first."

"OK," Gilda said, "just don't stress yourself too much."

"I'll be fine," I said reaching for another book.
Dear Princess Celestia,

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