• Published 30th Oct 2018
  • 1,980 Views, 592 Comments

Ponyville Noire: Kriegspiel—Black, White, and Scarlet - PonyJosiah13



War has come to Ponyville. As a criminal mastermind, a cruel pirate, and a mare with mysterious motives fight for control, Daring Do and Phillip Finder are put to the test with new cases and new foes.

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Case Seven, Chapter Six: The Forest

The bright light faded from Daring’s sight and she blinked. An icy wind was already biting into her face, frost assaulting her ears. She looked around to find herself in a dark forest, the groaning and shivering tree limbs seeming to reach out as if trying to grab her and her companions. The snow on the ground reached almost up to their knees.

“The Everfree Forest,” Flash Sentry whispered behind her. “Oh, Holy Mother. This is real.”

“Stay focused, Flash,” Prowl said. “We’re all here and we’re all gonna stay together and keep each other safe. Lights on, all of you.”

Each of the group donned and switched on a headlamp, the bright beams of light piercing the dark for several yards in front of them.

“Which way?” Bumblebee asked, tilting his hat down lower so that the brim would shield more of his face. He had his shotgun out, one hoof gripping the middle of the barrel.

Flash, Prowl, and Daring all looked down at their right hooves. The dowsing rods were still tied to their wrists, and they held them up. The little rods all pointed in the same direction, aiming in what Daring’s compass revealed was north-northwest of their position.

“Come on, let’s go,” Daring said, turning and following the trail, crunching through the snow. She spread her wings to take off, but the wind instantly made her feel as though icicles were forming on her feathers and she snapped them back to her sides, opting to gallop as quickly as she could.

“Wait up,” Prowl called. “We all need to stay together. And if you rush, you’ll just end up tired.”

Every instinct was screaming at Daring to just race ahead and find Phillip as fast as possible, but she forced herself to slow down and allow the others to keep pace with her. They kept a steady trot forward, hooves crunching in the snow. Their journey passed in silence; their heavy breathing was focused entirely on moving forward. The whistling wind and creaking of the trees was occasionally punctuated by some strange, distinctly animal noise—a warbling cry, a throaty cawing, and once a distant howl—that would cause the group to instantly halt, raise their weapons and scan the forest with their eyes and ears, searching for any sign of imminent attack. But not once did any strange animal lunge from the shadows for them, and they would continue on, one or two giving a nervous laugh as they lowered their gun, nerves still tingling and hearts still trembling. Every few minutes, they would pause while Daring, Prowl, and Flash checked the dowsing rods and ensured that they were still heading in the right direction.

They had traveled for almost fifteen minutes and covered at least a mile by Daring’s estimate when they heard it. A close, rumbling howl that erupted from the foliage.

“Timberwolf,” MacWillard growled, rising onto his hind legs and tucking the stock of his Trotson against his shoulder. “It’s close. Wheel and Daring, back to back. The rest of us circle up around them.”

The officers instantly obeyed his instruction. Wheellock dropped to one knee and raised her rifle to her shoulder, peering down the night vision scope towards where the howl had come from. Daring pressed her back against Wheellock, gripping the borrowed Moon Model S with both hooves, panning the forest with her headlamp. The other four ponies formed a loose circle around them, all of them raising their weapons.

“Luna, Guardian of the Night, watch over us,” Wheellock whispered, then took a breath and settled herself. Daring felt some of the tension leave the mare’s body, heard her breathing slow: this was just another day at the range for her, she realized. It just so happened that the moving targets could tear her throat out if she let any get too close.

Another howl sounded: louder, closer, and with a triumphant, vibrating echo at the end.

“That’s a rallying call,” MacWillard said, slowly scanning his sector back and forth. “Every timberwolf nearby knows we’re here now.”

“How many?” Flash asked, trying to hide his nervousness. His trembling hooves gripped the shotgun so tightly that they nearly turned white.

“We’ll know when they come,” MacWillard replied.

Tense seconds passed, each one feeling like hours. The light from their headlamps revealed nothing amidst the snow and shadows, but they could hear the timberwolves approaching: rhythmic creaking of wood mixed with the thudding of steps, the snapping of twigs beneath clawed appendages, and a low, hungry growling.

“Where are they?” Flash asked, his voice high-pitched from terror.

“There!” Wheellock shouted, snapping her rifle to the target. Before the word had fully left her mouth, she fired, the Summerfield rifle barking loudly. Several yards away, the timberwolf that had been stalking towards them staggered, stunned by the .30-03 round that had taken off most of its skull.

A loud snarl erupted from the darkness and two more timberwolves charged past their stunned comrade. Their glowing green eyes pierced the darkness, narrowed in hate and hunger; their snouts were open, growls rumbling from throats that were enchanted by the strange magic of the forest. Each of them was nearly a full head taller than the ponies, and they bounded through the snow with strangely graceful movements.

Prowl and MacWillard both opened fire with their Trotsons, hot brass flying past their shoulders as their weapons sang out into the night. Their bullets struck true, sending bark and thick tree sap flying from the timberwolves’ bodies with every score, chewing away at their heads; within moments, both of the beasts collapsed into heaps of wood, sap running like blood into the snow. Wheellock calmly fired a second round that obliterated the head of the third timberwolf, dissipating the magic holding its surprisingly fragile body together.

A rustle alerted Daring and she whirled around. Her eyes registered the glowing green eyes emerging from the foliage behind her a moment before her brain acknowledged the incoming threat. “Behind us!” she shouted, raising her pistol and opening fire. Her rounds stunned the timberwolf as it bounded out of the foliage, causing it to stagger mid-charge. Flash turned and fired, his shotgun roaring out a challenge, and the timberwolf’s head exploded into a shower of wood chips and sap, the body collapsing into pieces. Mottles of green smoke fluttered about the wood.

“They’re retreating!” Wheellock shouted, firing another round to destroy a final timberwolf. Indeed, the few wooden beasts left standing were already turning and disappearing into the woods, their steps crunching in the snow.

“Yeah! Take that!” Bumblebee cheered. “And don’t come back!”

“Come on, we’re wasting time,” Daring urged them, holstering her weapon.

They continued on their journey, prowling through the snow. Soon, they ducked underneath a set of arching tree branches to behold an unnatural sight: a nine-foot-high chain link fence, topped with barbed wire and humming faintly with an electric charge.

“Who the hell would live all the way out here?” Bumblebee wondered. “Make a hell of a commute to the grocery store.”

“The Poacher lives here,” Daring concluded. “Come on!” She spread her wings and bounded over the fence in a single leap. Landing on the other side, she quickly snapped her wings back to her sides: the feathered limbs felt as though she’d just dunked them in a bucket of ice water, the wind having cruelly dug into her bones. Okay, gonna have to limit flying.

Flash followed Daring and Prowl and MacWillard carried Bumblebee and Wheellock over after them, all of the winged creatures wincing as the frost bit at their wings. Prowl, Flash, and Daring paused to check the dowsing rods. All of them were pointed in the same direction, to the northwest.

“Let’s keep moving,” Daring urged, already turning to follow the trail, pushing aside some branches as she walked. The others started to follow, but Prowl abruptly stopped and turned around, looking back the way they’d come.

“What is it?” Bee asked.

Prowl was still for a moment, her tufted ears twitching. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Thought I heard a noise. Sounded like a growl.”

“Come on!” Daring shouted, already several meters ahead of them, pushing hard through the snow and trees.

“Wait up!” Flash called, hurrying after her. “We gotta stay together!”

Daring forced herself to slow down enough that the others could catch up, her pulse marking every second that Phillip was dying. She scanned the woods, but even with her enchanted night-vision contacts, she could barely see more than a few meters in front of her, so thick were the woods and the snow. They proceeded forward, following the path indicated by the dowsing rods, and eventually emerged into a clearing. They paused while Wheellock scanned the area with her scope.

“No heat signatures, and no sign of anypony,” she announced. “Let’s keep going—”

“Uh, not to interrupt,” Bee declared, looking down. “But is the ground shaking?”

Everypony turned their attention to their hooves. The ground beneath the snow was indeed shaking, but not a constant rumble: more of a series of rapid impacts against the earth, so hard they could feel it in their bones.

Prowl suddenly whirled around. She exhaled sharply and her ears wiggled. “Something’s coming,” she warned, raising her Trotson towards the trees that they had just left. “Something big.”

The trembling became heavier; crashing noises resounded through the air as something smashed its way through the trees. The group raised their weapons, hearts thudding in their ears.

Then a pair of trees were knocked aside and their attacker emerged from behind them. It was a timberwolf, but eight feet tall, its eyes huge and glowing a sickly green that pierced the dark like daggers. It opened a huge snout that dripped with sap-like saliva, revealing fangs that were each almost a foot long and let out a snarl that made the air shake, filling it with its noxious breath.

Within the split-second before ponies reacted, Daring noticed the bullet pockmarks and holes across its face, suddenly realizing that this giant beast was made of the corpses of the pack that had attacked them earlier.

Then Flash, Bumblebee, and Wheellock all screamed and dived out of the way. The timberwolf lunged and tried to snatch up Prowl in its snout, but she jumped away, firing her Trotson as she flew upwards. Bullets impacted against the timberwolf’s head, sending splinters flying. The beast shook its head, growling.

Flash, who had paused a few feet away, bellowed in rage and charged at the timberwolf, firing his shotgun. The beast brought up a foreleg to shield its head, then swatted Flash out of the air, sending him crashing into the snow. Prowl dived in and grabbed Flash, dragging him to safety as the others started firing on the timberwolf.

Bellowing in rage and pain, the giant monster lunged at MacWillard. MacWillard tried to dodge, but was too slow: the timberwolf’s jaws closed around his wing and his gun fell from his talons. Screeching in pain and fear, MacWillard tried to claw his way loose, but the beast shook him like a chew toy, then flung him at Bumblebee and Wheellock, knocking them both down. It then turned its glowing eyes upon Prowl, who was still trying to carry the unconscious Flash to safety. Prowl fumbled with the Trotson, one hoof still hanging onto Flash as the beast lumbered towards them with frightening speed.

Daring, who had leaped out of the way initially, dived in and kicked the timberwolf in the back of the head. “Hey! Pick on someone your own size, you walking pile of firewood!” she shouted.

The glowing green eyes glared at her, and the timberwolf roared, its stinking breath assaulting Daring. It lunged at her, and she swooped downwards, narrowly missing the wooden teeth.

“Come and get me!” she taunted, zigzagging through the air. The timberwolf roared and chased after her, hoofsteps pounding against the snow.

“Daring!” Prowl yelled after her.

“I’ll lead it away!” Daring called, zipping faster over the clearings. The timberwolf followed her, snapping at her tail. It followed her over a pair of hills, crashing through copses of trees. Here, Daring turned to face her foe, drawing the borrowed pistol from her holster.

The timberwolf lunged at her, jaws wide, and she dodged to one side, opening fire. The pistol barked loudly as she emptied the magazine into the side of the timberwolf’s head. It snarled in rage and swung its head at Daring, striking her in the side. She grunted and tumbled through the air, the Moon Model S falling from her grasp into the snow. Recovering, Daring quickly flapped her wings and pushed herself away from what would’ve been a finishing snap of the beast’s jaws.

Great. Now what? Daring thought frantically, dodging the beast’s jaws and claws. I need some way to beat this thing for good. She ran a quick mental inventory of her gear. Her revolver: that would probably just make it angrier. Boomerang: she could barely throw it. Smoke bombs: even if she blinded it, it could just smell her out again. Lock picks, razor blade, lighter, cigarettes…

The bottle. A grin crossed Daring’s face as a plan formed in her mind. Dodging a swipe from a gigantic paw, she pulled out the glass bottle of Manticore Rare that she had stored. Tearing off a section of her coat, she stuffed it into the neck of the bottle, then whipped out her lighter and lit the end of the fabric. The makeshift fuse caught instantly, the little flame dancing in the cold wind. Switching tactics, she charged right at the timberwolf, who paused, its eyes widening as though in confusion.

Daring alighted atop the timberwolf’s head and drew her revolver in her spare hoof. She pressed the barrel against the timberwolf’s left eye and opened fire, sending all six bullets directly into its head. The beast bellowed in agony, blinded in one eye, shaking its enormous head. Daring jumped off and flew over the timberwolf’s head, throwing her Dragon’s Breath cocktail into its open mouth with a shout of “Have a drink on me!”

The bottle shattered inside the beast, and the fire caught quickly, flames bursting through the timberwolf’s chest. It bellowed in agony, writhing and flailing as the fire spread across its body. A flailing paw struck Daring and she tumbled out of the sky, her breath exploding out of her. She crashed into the snow, pain flashing across her wings and her side and she cried out.

Looking up, she saw the flaming wolf, its body lit up against the darkness of the sky and forest, throw its head back and give one last long howl, then slowly start to fall. She quickly jumped out of the way as the mass of burning timber crashed to the ground, sending snow plumes flying ten feet into the air. The body dissolved into logs and misshapen wood that lay in the snow. Motes of faint green dust floated off the corpse into the air, mixing with the smoke; the flames hissed and sputtered as they slowly died.

Daring stared at her work for a moment, panting, then muttered to herself, “Holy shit, I am awesome.”

Shaking herself out of her daze and adjusting her pith helmet, she looked back down at her dowsing rod. It was pointing behind her. She turned around and spotted a figure stalking through the snow, leaning on a long stick, weaving slightly as though drunk. She squinted. “Phil?” she called.

The figure paused, then sprinted towards her, stumbling through the deep snow. “Daring!”

Daring sprinted up to him, ignoring the pain in her left leg that screamed at her with every step, and seized Phillip in a hug. “Shit, you’re freezing,” she said, tugging her coat off her shoulders and swinging it over Phillip’s body. He hugged it to him, managing to smile at her with his blue lips.

“Th-thanks,” he said through chattering teeth, shaking snow out of his mane. His eyes were slightly unfocused and dull with exhaustion, but as Daring watched, they began to shine a bit more brightly as he warmed up.

“We gotta find the others and get you out of here,” Daring said, grasping Phillip beneath the forelegs and spreading her wings. “C’mon—ow!” she cried out, wincing. Pain shot up her left side and her wing, and her muscles refused to respond to her commands. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” she snarled, glaring at her warped, useless limb and nearly lame, injured leg.

Phillip suddenly snapped his head up, his body tensing up. “Poacher’s coming,” he hissed.

Indeed, Daring heard a song, brought to her ears by the frosty wind, coming closer by the moment: “Oh, Death…

“Shit.” She looked around and spotted a large lump of crackling wood that had formerly been part of the timberwolf’s jaw; it was under four feet tall and as long as a car, some misshapen teeth still hanging onto it. “I’ve got an idea,” she grinned.


Ponies had come. How? How had they found him?

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the hunt. He knew this little piece of the forest like the back of his own hoof: he could hide, lead his pursuers around in circles and pick them off at his leisure. And when he was done, he could disappear, go anywhere he pleased: another city, perhaps. Maybe he’d even leave Equestria, take his services elsewhere. There’d be more prey.

But right now, his prey was close, so close he could almost smell his fear. He could already imagine his knife cutting into his flesh, extracting his innards and carving him out like a Nightmare Night pumpkin.

He climbed to the top of the hill and paused. Before him was the remnants of what must have been a great battle: the flaming remnants of a massive timberwolf lay scattered across the field, smoke still rising into the sky.

Phillip could not have done this on his own. One of his rescuers must have done this. Indeed, he spotted a set of six brass .38 cartridges lying in the snow. So, he had a friend with him now, one who was armed. But it was only one, he surmised, scanning the area: there was no sign of any others.

He crouched down to examine the tracks in the snow. Here was Phillip’s trail, where he met with his rescuer. This one looked like a pegasus, their tracks light in the snow because of their hollow bones: a female, if the width of their gait was to be believed. “Daring Do,” he murmured to himself with a grin. Both of his targets, together, wounded.

A small bit of color amidst the darkness and the white snow caught his eye. He looked up and spotted the top of a round hat—a certain infamous pith helmet—peeking over what had formerly been the giant timberwolf’s lower jaw, now a lump of wood coated in flickering flames. Hoofprints in the snow led around the cover. He cocked his head to the side, already partly raising his rifle; the key attached to his hoof jingled faintly. Could it really be so obvious…?

Voices behind him, to the south. He turned and raised his field glasses. There, cresting over the hills: the others. Police officers, headed this way. Damn! How’d they get here?!

It didn't matter. Right now, he had the prime chance to take care of one, if not perhaps both of his trophies. Raising the rifle to his shoulder, he began to stalk forward, years of practice making every snowy step silent. He slowly circled around the log, focusing on the front sight of his rifle. There were no more tracks: they had to still be there, crouching, waiting for him to come closer. Smirking, the Poacher lightly pressed his hoof against the trigger of his rifle, keeping a safe distance from the log in case they were readying an ambush—not that it mattered, he’d have emptied both barrels into their heads before they had a chance to react, but no sense in taking unnecessary risks—and burst forward to reveal himself. He took aim…

And stared in shock. There was nopony on the other side of the lumber, merely Daring’s pith helmet propped up on a stick. A lure! A trap!

He heard snow shifting behind him and whirled around. Daring Do was bursting from the snow, bringing her revolver around to bear. But she was slow, far too slow; already his rifle was coming up, iron sights settling on her chest. Just a single pull of his hoof on the trigger—

But then the snow at his hooves burst like an explosion and a heavy weight crashed down on the barrel of his rifle just as he pulled the trigger, sending the shot into the ground with a great retort. Phillip Finder swung the stick he'd taken with a bellow, striking Big Game across the jaw and sending a lightning jolt of pain through his body.

Releasing the rifle, Big Game rolled with the blow, tumbling through the snow. As he rolled, he seized the great knife from his belt, drawing it from his sheath. He returned to his hooves, knife in hoof, turning towards Phillip. He was crashing through the snow, teeth bared and eyes shining like a wild animal.

Daring Do was circling around behind him, trying to get a clear shot of him. Glancing behind him, Big Game spotted a fallen timberwolf tooth, as nearly as long as a pony's foreleg and almost twice as thick, still partially glowing with heat. With a single motion, he seized the tooth and hurled it at Daring's head.

With a satisfying thwack, the makeshift projectile struck her square in the forehead. She stumbled, eyes shifting comically out of focus, then crashed into the snow.

But then a great weight crashed into him and drove him into the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. The next thing Big Game knew, Phillip had seized his foreleg in both his ice-cold hooves and dug his teeth into the skin. With a snarl, Phillip tore away a chunk of skin. Big Game's howl of pain echoed through the snowy valley and he felt the knife instinctively slipping from his hoof. Phillip grabbed it and tossed it aside.

"Get off!" Big Game barked, punching at Phillip's head with his free hoof. Phillip grunted and tumbled off him, and Big Game pounced like a cougar, mounting Phillip and wrapping his hooves around his neck. His teeth bared in an animalistic grin, he squeezed, relishing the feeling of his prey choking and struggling beneath him, hooves clumsily trying to break his hold.

But then a knee jerked up and rammed into his crotch. His back arched and he let out a yelp, his hold loosening. In an instant, Phillip completely broke his chokehold and tossed him to the ground once more, switching positions with him. His first punch broke Big Game's nose with a crunch, sending blood flying from his nostrils and summoning cold tears from his eyes. His second punch struck him across the jaw, making the world seem to spin around him. And his third punch hammered into his chin, sending the Poacher sprawling back into the snow once more, groaning feebly, his limbs no longer wishing to respond.

Panting and shivering, spitting the last foul taste of blood and flesh from his mouth, Phillip got up and stumbled over to Daring. She was picking herself up off the ground, holding her head with her free hoof. "Ow," she grumbled. "Asshole."

"You okay?" Phillip asked, teeth still chattering.

"I'm good," Daring nodded, focusing on Big Game, who was groaning as he came around. "Don't move, shitheel," she barked at him, aiming at his head with her revolver.

Big Game looked around, then smiled up at Daring Do. “Well played. It’s been a long time since I’ve faced another hunter.”

“Be thankful I don’t stuff you and mount you on my wall, you sicko,” Daring snarled, her aim never wavering.

Big Game’s smile faded. “You might as well,” he said coolly, glancing to one side. “Even if Zugzwang could forgive me for failing him, I’m never going back in a cage.”

He rolled over and seized the object he'd seen on the ground beside him. The knife blazed orange, reflecting the light of the flames. “No, don’t!” Daring shouted, starting forward.

But even before she’d taken a step, Big Game drew the blade across his neck, digging deep into his skin. He fell to the ground, twitching and shuddering as his scarlet blood spurted into the snow. He rolled over onto his back, gurgling on his last breaths, his eyes focusing on nothing.

A moment later, the light faded from his eyes and the Poacher became as still and silent as one of his trophies, sprawled across the snow. Phillip and Daring stared down at his body in silence.

Seconds later, the other officers arrived, staring at the scene before them with awe. “Holy shit,” Bumblebee mused, walking around the remnants of a giant paw.

“You both okay?” Prowl asked.

“Fine,” Phillip muttered, staring at the corpse. “Sick wanker decided to off himself rather than let Zugzwang kill him.”

“Well,” MacWillard grunted. “At least that’s all over with.”

“Should we take him with us?” Flash asked, looking at the bloodied corpse with trepidation.

“No, leave it here for now,” Prowl said. “Crime scene crew can take care of it. Let’s just get out of here before we all freeze.”

“Hang on,” Daring said. She bent down over the Poacher’s corpse and snatched the blue key from his wrist. “There. Now we’ll be able to get back more easily.”

The group gathered close together and Prowl broke open the container with her teleportation crystal, tossing the little jewel up into the air. The crystal hovered over them and began to spin, beams of blue-white light firing around them. With a flash of blinding light, the officers, detectives and their catch vanished from the forest.


Twilight paced back and forth across the spell circle on the laboratory floor, occasionally bending over to check one of the runes that she’d marked. “I know it was right,” she muttered frantically to herself, nibbling on a hoof as she completed another circle. “I double-checked everything...but maybe I should’ve triple-checked! What if I got one number wrong and didn’t see it either time? I could’ve sent them miles off course! They might be in Manehattan right now! Or Yakyakistan! Or the middle of the ocean! What if they’re not even on this planet anymore?!”

Cold Case watched the mare in silence, wisps of smoke rising from the bowl of her pipe. She nibbled on the stem and turned her gaze to the teleportation crystals that lay on the floor. For the past hour, they had remained on the floor, stubbornly still and silent. She huffed out a breath that smelled of mint.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Twilight said, her eyes wide. “We have to send another team! No, wait, if this circle is wrong—”

“Calm down,” Cold Case admonished her. “We don’t know for sure if anything has gone wrong. Panicking over things you can’t control won’t help—”

Suddenly, one of the crystals jumped into the air and began to glow. Cold Case and Twilight both stepped back as beams of blue light shot out of the crystal. Then, with a great flash of light, seven ponies appeared before them.

“You’re all okay!” Twilight cried in relief, immediately hugging Flash.

“Ow!” Flash cried out as her tight embrace exacerbated his injuries. She quickly let go and began profusely apologizing, casting healing spells over the group.

Phillip, still tightly wrapped in Daring’s coat, stumbled over to Cold Case. “Big Game is dead,” he reported, his lips still faintly blue. “He—”

"Hold still," Cold Case interrupted, her horn lighting up. Her magic flowed about the wound in his side, repairing it; Phillip winced but did not protest. Once the wound had closed up into a scab, Cold retrieved a roll of gauze and tightly wrapped them around his torso.

“Rest,” Cold Case ordered him, laying a hoof on his shoulder. “Find a cot and get some sleep. You can report once you’re rested up and feeling better.” She turned to Daring. “That goes for you, too.”

“Thanks,” Daring said with a begrudging nod, supporting Phillip as they exited the lab. She tossed Cold Case the blue key as she walked off; Cold caught it in her magic and studied it briefly.

A cot was quickly brought up from the basement and prepared. Phillip collapsed onto it, with Daring tightly hugging him from behind, her warmth joining his.

“Thank you for coming for me,” Phillip whispered, sleep already pulling at him.

“Of course I did,” Daring whispered, drawing the thick blankets around them. They were both asleep in moments.

Author's Note:

We've braved the forest...but there's still a few loose ends to clear up!

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