Off The Grid

by MajorPaleFace

Crepusculum, Coruscent

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The library shook from an artillery strike, causing the window frames to rattle and the furniture to shift in place.
Twilight Sparkle was desperately trying to discover any hint or hair of information on the Changelings, and wasn’t making much progress.
The thick oak doors opened violently, members of her personal guard flowed in looking worried.

Captain Olive led the way. At Princess Luna’s behest, Twilight had taken in a Thestral Guard as her guard Captain.
The library shook again with another impact, dust rained down and the crystal chandeliers jingled.
“Princess, we have got to leave!”

Twilight levelled her best impassive face, “I just need a little more time.”

Another blast hit just outside the castle, ricochets could be heard pinging bits of masonry across the marble walls.

The flash lit up Olives face, two glaring eyes under a frown framed in well-maintained ruddy fur.

Twilight had fast learned that unlike Olives unicorn predecessor, she gave no indication of caring for anything that Twilight had to say.

“Respectfully, you’ve got ten minutes. Then I’m dragging you out, I’m not having a Princess die on my watch.”

Twilight sighed as she screened through another book, “my work is important. I have to find some answers as to why and what is pushing the Changelings to attack us like this.”

“She flicked across the opening sections of a book, discarding it and picking another.

“They have always dwelled in their hollows, but how have they amassed such an army so quickly? There has to be an explanation. And once I find it – we can defeat them.”

Another emerald and fuchsia flash half blinded her as the city’s shield stopped a blast.
“Besides, we’re pretty safe under the barrier.”
Visible from the side of the bookshelf, through the glass ceiling, the pink shield crackled, before fizzling out entirely. Twilight felt the skin at the sides of her head stretch as her eyes bulged so enormously.
Changelings began snaking passed the anti-air fire, until they covered the rooftops and filled the streets. Pegasi air teams scrambled to meet them, but there were so many.

“Shit,” Olive exclaimed, “they got in. Amaranth – take her!”
Amaranth was the sole unicorn, and one of significant power. He took Twilight in his magical grasp and pulled her into the corridor as guards left and right acted as a funnel.
She didn’t resist, several more blasts landed outside the library, and the palace in general. She was nearly shaken to her knees, only able to run from the guards pulling her.

Dust scattered over them, the battle outside raged unhindered.
The Changelings are in the city. I hope my friends made it out safely. She thought.
The interior corridors were a maze, pristine marble and vaulted stained windows, cut with intricate silver and gold pictographs.
It was familiar to her from her childhood education at the palace.

Thick doors opened as if by a mental command, she and her personal guard rushed into a grand hall. The ceiling rose three levels and the far end was twice the length.
The dining and public performance furnished hall could accommodate two thousand ponies, which it did so nightly. The Princesses' used this room to host extravagant balls and gatherings. Of which only the Canterlot elite would preside.
These parties would be lit by brilliantly crafted crystal chandeliers the size of plaza fountains. While a magic miasma of the most colourful palette would amaze and awe the guests.

All of it had been hauled off, and hastily from the look of one of the chandeliers that lay smashed at the far end.
Several rows of guards seemed to itch. They couldn’t stand still or maintain their usual forward order.
“Let’s go K company!” A serious voice barked.
Outside the rumble and pitch of combat shifted ever closer. A large triple-doored awning allowed the soldiers to move through a small series of checkpoints. They faded from view.
The last glimpse of the street caught her gulping, and turning off her heart.

Bodies and blood, crazed forms hacking at each other beset by flames.
As the doors shut with an aura of finality, she was jerked from in front and pushed from behind. Roughly guided across the hall.

Her pace was set before her and she was almost running. Outside a thunderous explosion rattled the hall and sent a large crack across the floor.
Dark bug-like monsters appeared and rose from the ground like the dead reanimated.

She gasped as she was shoved through the adjourning door into another hall.
Twilight was jostled from the torrent of guards that surged into the room behind her to hold the Changelings at bay.

This can’t be happening, her interior monologue didn’t help any.
As the rear doors sealed, she heard shouts, cries and screeches in an awful nightmarish composition.
In this hall gone were the vestiges of regalia, the room had been semi reinforced. Sandbags lined the walls and boards had been nailed shoddily over the windows.
The air smelled like grease and dirt, unlike the usual thick perfume and fragrances that she was used to.

Another explosion outside threatened to cave the roof down on them, it creaked and groaned as the buildings superstructure absorbed the impacts.
At the halls heart was a makeshift fortress, constructed from sandbags and wooden furniture. Even a few antique suits of armour had been piled up.

Twilight followed closely to Olive, the smaller dark mare exuded violence, as did, in Twilight’s opinion, all Thestrals.
It was in their culture. This urge, a hunger for violence and lust for battle. They were often creatures of honour and respect, and made some of the most tenacious and unflinching warriors Equestria had to offer.

Olive halted at the exit. This door Twilight knew would bring them into the theatre district. Flowing on from that would see them arrive at the eastern airship berth. And hopefully a safe evacuation along with as many others as possible.
The dozen other guards attached to protect her had fallen behind in the previous room, and we’re trapped in the fighting along with the others.
The door opened from the outside and three golden armoured stallions were forced to pause their escape as they met with Olives fierce gaze.

The middle stallion was turning paler by the second.
“You look scared shitless, son.” Olive remarked casually.
The trio had war-torn uniforms, charred at the edges. And weapons smeared with ruddy green.
“Our squads dead! We need to get out of this Tartarus-dammed place!” The middle-most guard said.

Olive removed her sabre in a way that drew very little attention, she pointed with it.
“The only way out is back the way you came. Secure the street so that we can escort the Princess to safety.”
He gaped, “they’re right outside!”
“Then it’ll be a short walk.”

He looked from Olive to Twilight in disbelief, and back again.
Finally he shook his head and veered back into the street with the other two.

“Let’s go!” Olive galloped out, turned sharply left and raced up the cobblestone alley.
Twilight followed close behind, resisting the urge to look back.
Just keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Her chest began aching as the weight of so much death suddenly hit her.

She turned, moving through the flowing streets like a fish along a river.
They emerged into another street, this one strewn with paper and debris. Forgotten possessions of Canterlots evacuees.
The upper reaches of the city bloomed with magical Starfire. Unicorn teams dispensed beams and spears of superheated light down at the encroaching Changelings, not seeming to slow them any.

She could smell copper and the tang of spices, a market food stall flashed past. Several dead ponies arrayed around like options on the menu.
Olive pivoted and Twilight followed, fear openly flowed through her. She tried to quell it but her senses were alight with stimulus, and it was so very difficult not to worry about those she cared about.

An extreme heat hit her, washed over her, it was all encompassing.
The old theatre was on fire. Toxic smoke billowed into the sky. Obscuring dogfighting Changelings and Guards, their soot-coated bodies indistinguishable.
Firefighters desperately fought to coral the flames from spreading, But already they were failing.

“Fuck me. Princess! We have got to go!”
She was dragged away and steered by Olive, surprisingly strong despite her stature.
In the next alley awaited more dead civilians. A mare with her head missing and three smaller ponies lay between her and the wall. From the big red wounds she knew the children hadn’t survived their mothers sacrifice.
A sob threatened to escape her. A nearby blast forced it out of her, and she cried out once into the air. Frustration. Loss. Fear.

They circled up a series of ramps, a spread of decorative banners and streamers filled this area of the city in preparation for winter wrap up.
The inner rings of the upper levels were rammed with soldiers and their activity.
Like a terrible dream sequence, their broken conversations filtered in and out of her.

“They’ve taken the south-end, there’s just no end to the bastards.”
“No, I haven’t seen her. She was on patrol in the market. I’m sorry Cherry. Don’t worry! We’ll find her.”
“What happened to the 12th?”
“Down by the wall, it was a massacre!”

“Princess!” A messenger mare swooped down.
“Thank Celestia! You’re alright. The Princess is waiting for you in Halfbeak-Bay. She has a plan to put an end to this, but could do with your help.”
The almost cheerful mare turned to Olive, “we have to get her out.”

Olive was talking with a higher ranking royal guard officer, he seemed disinterested in the Thestral, who claimed authority as an escort of a Princess.
“No airships can leave Captain,” he said. “I don’t like to repeat myself, Princess or not, you’re not getting on one of those ships.”
The messenger mare squared up to him, “listen flank-hole – that’s Princes Twilight Sparkle, and we need to evacuate her. She’s in incredible danger.”

The officer seemed unfazed, “don’t lecture me, mare. I know who that is.”
He addressed Twilight, “I’m sorry Princess, you’ll have to find another way out of the city. Try the East Barricade, there’s a camp of Thestrals. They’ll get you out.”

He glared at the messenger, who looked sullenly back.
“If you talk to me like that again trooper, I’ll have you brought up on charges.”
He stormed off, rounding up a group of twitchy Pegasi and taking to the air.

“Whats your name kid?” Olive asked the messenger.
“Falco.”
Olive began leading them away, “well Falco, don’t listen to that dickhead. Come on – if we can’t hitch a ride, we’ll hijack one.”

The buildings in this area of the city were all fine wood and stone, crafted from the best masons and carpenters available.
They bypassed a patrol by routing through an unlocked warehouse.
Twilight levitated a stack of crates that lay at the far end, and Olive kicked a hole through the plank of the wall.
The sound faded into the thousands of others generated from the fighting.

The road rose into a steep hill, flanked by windmills. The tiled ground became cobblestone and grassy knolls.
The path levelled out into a massive series of platforms. All the airships had already left, yet one hovered at the far end.
All three mares took flight and glided toward the large hot-air barge. It was as tall as a house and thrice long.

Twilight realised it was drifting away, and had already put a fair distance between it and the berth.
A pair of guards watched from the edge.
Twilight would have just flown over them and dashed to the transport, yet halted as she noticed Changelings had already started attacking.

“Princes?” One of the guards asked bewildered.
“You’re too late. He’s already gone. That ship has almost two hundred souls on board, I told that idiot to stay here, but would he listen?”
He shook his head as Twilight scanned the barge. She could still save them if she–
A bug scrambled onto the balloons deck, glowing brighter before self destructing. The shockwave hit the berth and rattled them.

The Changelings didn’t hesitate in flying straight for the platform. Suddenly Twilight was being pulled away by Olive. She reluctantly obliged.
Twilight was a mare who prided herself on words over war. She felt it was her obligation to pursue peace within every instance.

But now, as she was rushed away from the meeting of new Guards and Changelings.
The backdrop to more brutal battle-to-the-death bloodshed was the blazing wreckage full of innocent mares and stallions. Full of families.
The hot tears that ran uncontrollably across her muzzle weren’t of fear or loss or sadness.
Hate.
She felt an absolute hatred. And that made her feel more ashamed than anything else she’d ever done. And what was worse, she relished it.

---

Comments

[Booster Spice]

Whoever gave Chrysalis the idea, resources and tech that human warefare was a good idea needs dropping in the sun. If the bugs are already up to drone bombs, then the only response is saturated daisy cutters, skeet shooters, and Slams where available.

Personally, Id take a certain item out of The Vault. One thats not used because it is Extremely Good at what it does. Sympathetic Magic when fed with a single Changeling, allows you to cast on All changelings.

Its called The Trigger Effect, and its a war crime wherever its used.

Others call it Genocide.

[Deadpool1]

She could smell copper and the tang of spices, a market food stall flashed past. Several dead ponies arrayed around like options on the menu.

Seriously?

[MajorPaleFace]

10241134
Do you not appreciate dark humour?