FoE: Vagabonds

by StapleCactus

Prologue

A ghoul’s heavy steps disturbed the barren dirt landscape, sending small clouds into the air as he marched on through the whipping winds. His thick barding was marred with the scars of bullets and his steps were steady and slow, carrying him through the whipping winds of the open wasteland air. Icy-blue eyes told a lot more of how old he was than his wounded, rotted body ever could, even as he lacked a mane.

The old being plodded over the open land in silence and continued on into a valley between two cliff-like edges. It was here that he witnessed something common enough for the wastes, a group of ponies running for their lives. As they saw the old ghoul walking toward them, they all picked up speed and, within a moment, they were standing in front of the being, their appearances telling their story. Just as the oldest of the ponies had opened his mouth to speak, the first shot was fired.

The bullet originated quite a distance away, from a sniper rifle, and it ended its path by liquefying the oldest of the ponies present. The ghoul didn’t blink, didn’t even react as the gore was splattered across his barding. Then, his gaze drifted over to the other two ponies, another stallion and a young colt. The second stallion was put to death as he stared at what used to be his sibling, leaving only the young pony alive. The youngster had just dropped to the ground next to his would-be rescuers’ corpses, when a high pitched beep echoed from his collar a short second before he was decapitated via explosion.

As if nothing had happened, the ghoul stepped over the lifeless bodies and continued through the canyon. A few steps passed before a bullet bit into the stallion’s barding, right near his shoulder joint. Pausing only for a moment to look at the hole, the stallion’s walk was mostly unhindered and he continued. A few steps later and he found himself standing in front of a tall building. Upon the second-story balcony was the sniper rifle responsible for the deaths of the ponies.

He knocked on the door and waited, knowing that there was somepony in the building. His patience was awarded moments later when the door swung open. He was met by a wicked grin when the slaver pony looked at him before shouting behind him to some unknown ponies. “It’s that wicked crazy ghoul I toldja ‘bout! The one with barding that can stop one of our sniper bullets!”

The ghoul returned a deadpan look before speaking up. “Do any of you happen to have a silver amulet?”

“Silver amulet?” the pony said, his grin still solid on his face. “I don’t think I do.” Then his smile widened as he pulled a shotgun from somewhere behind him and held it tightly in his mouth while he spoke around the handle. “Since you’re here though, I don’t think you would mind giving me that barding, eh? Maybe I’ll let you leave in one piece if you give it to me now.” The shotgun cocked while the ghoul continued his impassive look.

As the gun was lowered toward the ghoul’s head, a flash of magic encircled the weapon. It was then torn powerfully from the slaver’s jaw, a fair amount of teeth exiting his mouth with it as the uncared-for bones were torn from their roots. Before the slaver knew what was going on, the shotgun had been taken and pointed back at his own head. Without waiting for a response, the stallion’s head was smeared across the wall behind him from the explosive discharge of metal.

Following the firing of the shotgun, a hail of automatic bullets pounded into the door jam, just inches from the ghoul’s face. Unmoving from his position, the old pony waited patiently for a pause in the hasty fire. When the sound of a clip dropping came from within, he stepped in slowly, his pace normal, as if he were merely going for a casual walk. WIth practiced ease, he spotted the shooter who was reloading and fired another shot from his shotgun that, even at this range, dropped his target with a heavy wound. The slaver was struggling to fire his weapon when a blow to the face from the blunt handle of the shotgun knocked him out. A smashing of the gun to his forehead finished him off while the gun fell apart from the impact.

Grabbing the dropped automatic, the ghoul leveled the business end toward the stairway and filled the first pony down full of lead. As the second slaver made his way past his companion, another stream of bullets flew for a moment before the automatic fell apart. The slaver paused for a moment to praise his luck, but was interrupted as what was left of the handle was slammed into his temples, knocking him to the ground from the force.

When he stood from his position on the ground with his gun ready, he was met with a shot to the head from the gun of the slaver who had come down the stairs before him, a pistol this time. The ghoul remained unfazed, as if it was a simple thing that he had practiced for days prior to the event. Collecting the gun from his most recent kill as well, the stallion continued his slow walk up the stairs and past the other two corpses.

After turning a blind corner, a bullet streaked past his face and left a streak of blood along his muzzle where it had dug into his hide. Only one other bullet had the opportunity to be fired, this one digging into the heavy barding of the ghoul and leaving him unharmed, before the life of the fifth slaver was ended by the undead pony.

The ghoul glanced at the fallen slaver’s rifle, but passed on it and dropped the pistol next to her, leaving the stallion with only the semiautomatic gun from before. He paused to look down the length of hall that lead toward a door at the far end. Then, with his same steady, slow pace, the ghoul set off down toward the room, his eyes set unblinkingly upon the door.

Without any form of warning, the door burst open and a rounds of bullets hailed upon the ghoul. The armor-piercing rounds easily cut through the barding like a hot knife through butter, but the rain of bullets was erratic due to the unsteady aim of the wielder. When the stream of consistent fire ended, there were holes in just about every surface that had been on the opposite end of the hall.

The last slaver took several deep breaths as he calmed himself while the debris and dust swirled from where the stallion had stood earlier. His heart stopped and his breath froze in his throat when he became aware that, despite the collection of wounds littering his barding and his skin, the ghoul was still standing. A single round from the semi-auto was fired and dropped the last of the slavers.

The ghoul walked slowly towards the dying pony. As he passed over the slaver, he became aware of a scratchy voice and he glanced down.

“Why?” was the only thing that the slaver asked, his voice desperate to know why he and his accomplices had been killed.

“Why not?” came to cold reply as the slaver exhaled his last breath and fell limp. Continuing on his path, the ghoul opened the door and looked around at the shoddily created prison cells that held all the slaves that were set to be sold. A hole in the building off to the side cast uneasy shadows across the room and blocked the sight of the ghoul from the ponies. The collective breath of the captives was held for a moment before the ghoul stepped into the light.

“Any of you seen a silver amulet?”

---

“-bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts.” The sounds of music began playing from a PipBuck on a dark green unicorn’s leg. The dark grey, lightweight armor he wore kept him hidden on the ridge he lay upon, facing a large valley below. A black bandana held his mane away from his face as his yellow eyes stared towards the horizon. After turning the radio off, he brought his rifle to his prone form in a glow of yellow telekinesis and peered through the scope.

Past the receiving end of his weapon, a battle could be seen. Two rival gangs, one wearing rags and the other in universal bodysuits, were attacking with bludgeons, swords, and any guns they scavenged from the wastes. The most notable thing shared by the fighting ponies was, quite simply, their complete inability to fight correctly. It was like was watching children attempt to box.

As he scanned the battlefield, the sniper spotted a ghoulish figure in heavy armor walking slowly towards the battle, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “What is that thing doing?” the stallion said to himself as he checked his ammo. After ensuring his rifle was ready, he looked down the scope once more. The figure he saw before was nearing the edge of battle. “Stupid,” he muttered as he pulled the trigger.

Down range, one of the ponies in rags lunged toward the ghoul, only to be pierced by the sniper’s round and fall to the ground in a heap. The green stallion watched as the figure didn’t even flinch, continuing its slow, deliberate steps through the battle. With a sigh, he sighted targets again and again, clearing a path for the dimwitted being through the violent imbeciles. Occasionally, when he needed to reload, he would watch the gang members rush the ghoul, only to be knocked away when their own weapons were used against them.

“Really stupid,” he muttered as he slammed a different round into the rifle chamber manually. With another pull of the trigger, a red streak flew through the air in front of the ghoul, low enough to penetrate and ignite one of its would-be attackers. Again, there was no response from the being as it walked onward, the enemy flailing about and catching his neighbors on fire as well, the dry rags they wore being excellent fuel to the flames.

The sniper watched as his round dropped four members in flame, then chambered the next, normal, round. “Good thing these two groups are dumber, or I’d run a bullet through your own head, ghoul,” he said and looked to his pipbuck. “Damn, only a few dozen rounds to go.” He scrolled through the machine’s inventory display for a few moments before sighing and loading up a different clip. “I hate surplus ammo.”

After shooting the chambered round towards his latest target, he studied the field. He pulled the rifle’s bolt back slowly, allowing the spent shell to eject and a worn shell to take its place. Then, he slid the bolt it back in place, just as carefully. With a new target in line, he fired.

The round zipped through the air and penetrated its target, but did nothing to stop the pony from continuing his assault until he realized the wound. The ghoul strolled past as the attacker struggled to keep fighting through the hole in his side. A second shot rang out, passing through the flailing pony and leaving another wound behind. Soon enough, the stallion finally fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

The battle raged on as the sniper randomly fired at the ponies below, whether they were attacking the ghoul or not. In time, the sniper observed the figure exit the other side of the battle, bullets and wounds marking his body in just about every nonlethal position. With one last shot, dropping a trailing bodysuit-wearing pony in a spray of grey matter and blood, the unicorn lifted his rifle and stood.

“Exceptionally stupid, but at least not violently so,” he said as he removed the bandana holding his grey mane away from his face.

---

The unicorn ghoul drank heavily of a clear bottle as he stood near a two story building, his wounds healing as he quaffed the drink. With a sigh, the left saddlebag was opened and the bottle was replaced, revealing a slight blue glow from within the bag before it was closed once again. With a glance to the surrounding area, the ghoul unicorn entered a small bar, seeking a way to get some form of sleep that night, regardless of the cost in the morning. The task had become much harder to accomplish when he found himself as part of the undead and his alcohol tolerance increased as a result. As the door swung open, his sharp eyes informed him of all the separate ponies seated within the building. Among them, was a single empty seat that caught the ghoul’s eye.

With his slow pace, he made his way over and ordered his drink as he sat down. To his left, a green unicorn stared impassively at the barkeep as his rifle carefully rested against the counter and his saddlebags were slumped on the floor. A moment later, both of the stallions received their drinks as the ghoul glanced to the sniper and nodded.

The pony returned the gesture before picking up his glass and throwing the liquid within down his throat. “Yer the idiot that decided id be a good idea to walk THROUGH a battlefield. Guess I’m not surprised,” the stallion said when he set the shot glass back down and stared at the container, the alcohol slurring his speech slightly.

Rowdy ponies were making a ruckus in the bar as the ghoul drank and didn’t respond, the sniper awaiting another fill on his glass and letting himself be ignored. Seeing how quickly the green one was downing his drinks, the bartender set the three-quarters empty bottle of whiskey down. He then eyed the ghoul and slid a bottle of wine to the undead pony.

In an attempt to learn more about the ghoul, and whether or not he saved a worthy being, the sniper turned and said, “What’re you doing out here in the wastes? Most of your kind stays near Canterlot.”

Again, there was no response. The stallion poured himself another shot as the din within the bar quieted suddenly. Just as he was about to drink, he was forced to pause when he spotted two ponies beginning to walk over.

“Oye, I think thems be the ones that killed so many of us,” came a scruffy voice from the shorter of the two earth ponies.

“Yeah, I thinks you’re right,” the high pitched voice of the taller one said in return.

The ghoul glanced over his shoulder at the ponies who were approaching, then back to the sniper at his side. In response, the green unicorn drank his shot and placed it back on the bar without looking away from the two newcomers.

“Oh! They speak! I thought neanderthals like them weren’t smart enough to know basic language skills, considering their complete disregard for talking through their problems,” he said as he stared at the two in mock shock.

The ghoul took the time to look at the surroundings of the building and, just as he finished taking in all he could, the two gang members realized that they had just been insulted, lunging at the sniper and the ghoul. Both horns activated at once as the unicorns grabbed each other’s drinks and smashed them into their attacker’s faces.

The sound of two glasses shattering on the thick skulls of the ponies alerted the remaining bar goers. In seconds, the two unicorns were surrounded by mares and stallions covered in rags and holding whatever blunt object in reach in their mouths. Towards the back of the crowd, a unicorn stood and charged her horn.

“I got the unicorn!” the green stallion yelled as he charged his own horn and fired a concussive blast in the mare’s direction. The narrow blast was absorbed by the ponies in between the two, however, and were knocked to the ground by the force. “Have fun!” he added as he grabbed his gun with his magic and hopped over groaning ponies. He slammed into the female as she fired her own spell and followed her to the ground, her concentration breaking as her magic fired wildly into the air.

As the green unicorn tackled the caster, the ghoul levitated several stacks of plates from the nearby bar and placed them at his hooves. Just as the ponies who were knocked down by the concussive blast started to stand, several others were dropped to the ground under a constant barrage of dinnerware. Keeping his stoic demeanor intact, the ghoul continued to dish out punishment to the gang members.

“You’re cute,” the green unicorn said towards the pinned mare. “Too bad you’re an idiot.” He struck the mare hard enough to force unconsciousness and looked up at a few ponies smiling around the weapons they carried. He sighed and floated his weapon above him. “I have a gun, guys.” Four large objects swung down as he rolled out of the way, cringing slightly as he heard the weapons impact the mare he left behind. The unicorn stood and trained his rifle on the left-most pony before pulling the trigger.

Eventually, the ponies grew tired of the plates being thrown in their faces and a gun was quickly drawn when they heard a shot ring out. The second it came into view, it was immediately yanked from the grasp of the pony by the strong telekinesis of the undead pony and it began to rain bullets into the gang members at an incredible speed. Within seconds, the ghoul looked coldly at the victims of his attacks and fired a few more rounds into each of the ponies again, just to make sure they were dead. “Now I don’t feel like drinking.”

Between the first pony going down, and the scuffle by the bar escalating into gunfire, the green unicorn managed to drop the second and third pony, taking a second or two to line up the shots and backing up to keep his distance. The last enemy shakily stared down the stallion’s barrel before pulling his own firearm. A final shot rang out within the bar as the threat of the weapon forced the sniper into sobriety. The pony dropped, a hole bored straight through his skull. “Remove the violently stupid...”

Silence filled the bar as the two unicorns glanced between each other and the glass shards surrounding the first two ponies who started the fight. “You spilt my drink,” the green sniper said as he stepped over the fallen, more worried about not tripping than he was about disturbing the corpses. His hooves took him around the bar as he lifted his bags and slung them over his back, where he grabbed another bottle of Wild Pegasus. As he pocketed it within his saddlebags, he looked towards the other unicorn. “Hey, ghoul, what’ll ya have?” he asked in a fake southern accent as the previous bartender was nowhere to be seen.

“My name is Steel Wall,” responded the ghoul in a bored tone to the sniper.

“Uhuh, and I asked you what you’ll have, not your name. Regardless, call me Force,” the stallion said as he turned and pushed bottles around on the shelves.

“A silver amulet, about the size of my hoof. Do you have that?” Steel replied as he began to search all the bodies of the dropped gang members, tossing aside the occasional gun and loose rounds like trash as he scoured all the pockets of his victims.

Force hummed as he searched through the bottles of liquor. He stopped at a deep emerald-colored bottle and chuckled. “Nope, no medals here. But maybe I can interest you in a drink?” he asked as he grabbed it and brought it to the bar.

The stallion glanced at the liquid for a moment before shaking his head and looking back to his work. After scouring for another moment, a healing potion that the unicorn mare had been carrying was sent spinning through the air with a toss of his head, causing it to shatter against the far wall.

The impromptu barkeep shrugged and set a shot glass down, immediately filling it with a green liquid from the bottle. As he knocked the shot back and set it back down, he said, “Suit yourself. I got what I wanted. Have fun rummaging.” He grabbed a second bottle of whiskey from the shelves and headed for the door.

As he finished searching the corpses, Steel went back to the first corpse and started through the rags of the pony once again. A few seconds later, he looked to the unicorn humming in thought as he exited the building and looked off in different directions. A moment passed before Force turned left and disappeared from the doorway.

After another pass over the bodies, the ghoul stepped out as well. He looked around at the empty wastes before heading east and, at the edge of the building, he spotted the green unicorn next to a workbench. Force had his bandana on and his rifle disassembled for cleaning. The corpse-like pony shook his head and continued his journey eastward with his normal, sluggish pace.

Roughly an hour later, with the two story bar still slightly visible, the ghoul was passed by the sniper with his PipBuck radio on. The radio’s music stopped and the disk jockey started to speak, but the voice faded as the green unicorn continued further away from the ghoul. Just as the stallion was about to head over the hill up ahead, he stopped. After a few seconds, where the ghoul slowly made his way up the incline, the pony turned around and trotted back with the radio off.

“C’mon, we’ve got a job,” Force said flatly to the ghoul when he got within range of Steel’s senses.

---

Footnote:

Force Factor

Strength: 4

Perception: 10

Endurance: 4

Charisma: 2

Intelligence: 10

Agility: 6

Luck: 4

Steel Wall

Strength: 6

Perception: 8

Endurance: 10

Charisma: 1

Intelligence: 4

Agility: 1

Luck: 10

Authors’ Note: Special thanks to Kkat for the original Fallout: Equestria; and Somber of Project Horizons and No One of Heroes, cause they’re awesome.

Comments

[Malesur Darkhoof]

Interesting....Go on

[RavensDagger]

Continue.

[Total Eclipse]

Oh god now you're on FoE...

I love the wastes so much

[Deathpony]

looking towards the next chapter