2 - The Woods of Woe
I’d flown before, but there’s always something magical about watching the ground rush by like water from a tap. Sometimes I wished I was mom’s biological child. There would have been an excellent chance of inheriting her wings even though dad was an earth pony. It would be wonderful to fly under my own power.
Flying in the RAT rig was still pretty fun, even though it was cramped with three ponies onboard. Thanks to the cabin being chock full of radio equipment, I got the only window seat. I’d spent the last six hours watching the forests and snowfields as we zipped across them. I’d miss them.
I remembered a little about the Heartlands. Everything was gray, or brown, or brownish gray. The bombardment had sterilized the land, carbonized trees, and twisted what remained. The Crystal Empire had been hit with far fewer megaspells. Its holdings still had trees.
That little fact had bothered me for years. I had no idea how we could grow spruce, pine, and fir trees almost anywhere, but not edible plants. If only I’d read more on botany and agriculture. In my defense, there had always been something more important for me to learn in the past. Was it something special about evergreen trees in general, or that particular taxa of tree?
I leaned to my left to get a better view of the storm below us. A chaotic whirling nebula of white snow filled with glowing blue masses which danced at the edge of sight within the storm. The entire assembly moved as it wished, ignoring the winds. Windigos.
The Windigos had moved a bit further south than last I’d heard. I wasn’t worried about fighting them, or sneaking past them. We weren’t landing in the old Empire, and the Balefire had permanently bound them to the radioactive ice and snow of the north.
An entire species of Spirits of Hatred, forever bound within the confines of a particular biome, thanks to extreme magical radiation. What had the creators of Balefire been thinking? They had to have known what their weapons would do to the spirit realm. How any zebra could imagine weaponizing balefire and not be horrified was beyon—
Oh. Yes. That’s right.
True Shamans had lost control of their art long before the End. Those Who Feared the Stars took their place. Fear can make the wisest pony act the fool.
Their replacement stripped the religious aspects from public Shamanism years before the war. The scriptures passed down from Shaman to Apprentice may not have told you how to tame a spirit, or ward an area from them. Instead, those parables were meant to guide you in how to use the more practical aspects of their faith. One half showed you what you could do, the other showed you what you should do. Big important difference.
Those old scriptures and parables were just a little important. Especially the ones pertaining to necromancy.
In a word: Don’t.
In a sentence: Just because you can alter the nature of a soul or a spirit, doesn't mean you should.
It’s not a hard rule. A few safe applications of necromancy do exist, but any major necromantic spell will contaminate not just the mortal plane, but the spiritual realm as well. You could permanently alter the way local thaumaturgy worked in several ways. You could even kill magic itself in a significant area.
The roiling sea of clouds surged upwards, as if reaching towards the rig. They knew we were up here. They knew they couldn’t reach us. I shivered, feeling a tingle of fear run along my spine even though I knew they knew they couldn’t really reach us up here. They were playing with us.
The Comms Officer, a tall, neon green and matte pink earth pony stallion, set a hoof on my shoulder. “Relax. They can’t fly this high.”
I nodded, and offered him an apologetic smile. “I know.”
He laughed. “Besides, I hear they can’t see you. So even if they could come up here—”
I shook my head, cutting him off with the gesture. “No, they can see me. They just don’t think I’m food.”
He frowned in thought and raised an eyebrow. “Really? Wouldn’t they want to freeze you just for the hay of it?”
I ran a hoof through my mane and smiled. “Well, let’s say if they try it one day, it might be an even match. They may be manifestations of bitter hatred, but they know what death is. They know that if one of them does try to take me on, death is a possible outcome for both of us, and they don’t like their odds.”
He nodded slowly. “I see… Any chance you could teach me how to do that?”
I shook my head. Ponies always asked.
He sighed and looked out the window with me. “Let me guess, you need that gift you zebras have.”
I nodded. “If you can’t see more than its physical form, you can’t do much to a Windigo.”
We kept looking out the window for a few minutes, watching the Windigos chase us. They raced along, rolling and undulating as the storm’s members tried to jump high enough to reach us. You’d think they would know they couldn't leap a kilometer above their flight ceiling. You’d think that maybe they’d eventually try working together, but they always took their leap at us alone.
Celestia… Please don’t let them think to try that.
The view of storms below stopped abruptly, as if it hit some invisible wall. I frowned, unable to see any reason why they would have stopped, until I noticed a subtle change in the snow.
The snow in Lith was always tinted ever so slightly green, and speckled with gray ash. The snow under us now was white, blue, and pure. What the hay? How?
I pointed at the snow below us, just in case the stallion whose name I totally hadn’t forgotten hadn’t noticed the change. “Look! It’s clean!”
“What?” The officer leaned forwards, squinting for a moment until his eyes widened in surprise. “I’ll be damned, it is! What in the world could have done that?”
He turned towards the cockpit and took two steps forward, as far as he could go without bumping into the back of the pilot’s chair. “Hey! Aileron. Did we just cross the Equestrian border?”
Our pilot pointed to a mountain range a few dozen kilometers ahead. “Nope. It’s on top of that mountain range. I plan on setting down on top of the tallest peak. That should give us a clear transmission line to the nearest permanent relay… Why do you ask?”
“Look down, the snow’s clean here. No rads, no ash.”
“What? Not it’s n— Oh!” I saw the pilots head turn to look around his controls and through the crystal bottom of the cockpit. “How the buck— We need to report this! The soil down there might be recoverable, Officer!”
Officer? What? Did he forget his name too?
…
Oh. My. Celestia!
I groaned and slumped in my seat, feeling like I should smack myself on the nose. That’s why I couldn’t remember his name! His name and his rank were the same thing. What were his parents thinking?
“Yeah, I’ll be calling this in as soon as the RAT is online,” Officer said as he turned around and took his seat again.
I looked away from him and pretended to examine my LAERs, so he wouldn’t see that I was embarrassed.
It was exciting to have weapons mounted to my battle saddle, especially since unlike most ponies, I got to directly control them via my link module. No need for sights and triggers for this mare!
It was just like being back on the Imperterritus, only with lightning guns instead of cannons! If only my memories of serving aboard her were more intact… But no mare would ever forget what it was like to fire those guns. Mmmnh, forty six centimeter naval cannons. Six of them. Yessss!
Officer cleared his throat, making me realize that during my musings I had accidentally stared directly into his eyes. “Uh, Gears? W— Were you… Coming onto me?”
My cheeks burned red immediately. “No!” I squeaked. “J-just remembering the times I got to fire two tri-linked 46 cm naval turrets.”
“Thank Cadance!” Officer sighed, slumping more comfortably into his seat as the held breath escaped his lungs.
My ears fell, and the color drained from my cheeks. The relief that oozed from every fiber of Officer’s being was heartbreaking.
He frowned. “S— Sorry… I should have been more polite, it’s just that there’s the… Well, I’m sure you know.”
“I do,” I sighed. “I really do get it. It would be nice if someone wasn't so turned off by… That.”
Officer squirmed in his seat, his eyes flicking around the cabin, desperately looking for any way out of the awkward position he’d dragged us into. “Uh, so… About the whole seeing spirits thing,” he rambled.
“What about it?” I asked eagerly, my ears perking at the chance to not have to talk about my inconceivably long dry spell of ‘since forever’.
“I uh…” He paused for a moment, searching for anything to ask. “Oh! How did your mom give you the ability to do it?”
“She didn’t,” I said with a polite smile. “I’ve always had that.”
Officer blinked and looked me up and down then shook his head. “Look, I don’t really have any background in Shaman stuff. Can you tell me what that means in plain Equish?”
“It means that even before mom thought about me, I had the gift. It’s fate. Those who have it, have it, will have it, and always had it.”
Officer tilted his head. “What, like, are you talking about reincarnation?”
I shrugged. “Kind of? It’s more just… Fate.”
“Hey, guys?” Aileron called from the cockpit.
The two of us immediately turned towards him. It’s never a good idea to ignore the pilot of a cloudless aircraft. If something goes wrong, you need to be ready to bail before it’s time to bail.
“I’m picking up some local radio chatter,” Aileron continued, pausing for a moment, presumably to listen to his headset. “It sounds like there’s a squad of soldiers scouting the mountainside.”
Officer stood up and walked towards the cockpit. “Let me hear.”
I watched as Aileron handed Officer his headset. Officer jammed one cup over his ear and listened for several seconds then handed it back. “That’s military, for sure.”
“Is it the Enclave?” I asked curiously. “It would make sense if their original base was close to us.”
“No… I’m not sure who they were, but they mentioned freezing their teats off. That means no nice heated power armor, so they aren’t Enclave, or even pegasi for that matter,” Officer concluded with a soft humm.
I glanced at the external thermometer embedded in the window frame. It was a pleasant ten below, and they were cold? What wimps!
Aileron shook his head slowly. “Guys, we’re approaching in what will look to them like a huge house fly in power armor. I don’t want to keep heading in their direction in case they happen to have a RPG. We’re over a good landing site, and the terrain ahead looks like it would be suicide to try and set down on even if it wasn’t crawling with troops. Unless you want to try parachuting out today, Gears, you’ll have to climb down the mountain. Is that going to be acceptable?”
I nodded. “Land here. I’m going to be walking a whole bunch anyways.”
☢★★◯★★☢
I’d made it just ten steps from the rig’s gangplank when I realized my traveling clothes were overkill for this weather. I had my fur cloak, a full oilskin jumpsuit, and winter boots, as well as my new scarf. I was boiling!
Minus ten… What was this, midsummer?! It’s almost harvest time. Stupid weather.
I looked over my shoulder at the landed rig, debating returning to drop off my cloak. The airship really did look like a giant house fly in power armor. I never thought about it before, but changeling airships would all look like huge bugs to people who hadn’t seen them before.
I guess Queen Chrysalis really had valued the intimidation factor and apt symbolism for her technology.
I turned back away from the rig. The warm weather had to be a freak heatwave. I’d need my cloak again soon enough.
I looked down the mountain at Equestria. This was the first time I’d left the north since I’d arrived. In the distance I could see brown earth, untouched by snow, and a thin winding river which worked its way down the mountain into the distance.
The rolling hills and running water were alien to me. Even though I’d traveled through them once before, the memories of those days were so distant and muddy that it might as well have been the first time I’d really seen Equestria.
It looked…sick. Not dead, and not even dying. Just...ill. That’s not how I remembered it. I remembered it dead.
I also remembered there being total cloud cover, which made the sun seem like a dim lamp across the room rather than, well, a sun. Those clouds were nowhere to be seen. I guess after all these years the clouds those long dead pegasi used to seal off the sky had finally dissipated.
They do that right? Dissipate over time?
You’d think I’d know that, since I had a pegasus mom. A momasus. She wasn’t big on clouds, though. Or flying. Sometimes I wondered why she even bothered replacing her wings.
I shifted slightly, making sure my saddle, and more importantly the bags, were secure. They rustled slightly, but didn’t shift any more than expected. I was ready.
I took my first step down the mountain into the Heartlands, and immediately plunged a full two meters down into the deep fluffy snow as the hard crust atop the snowbank gave way under my hoof.
Right… Well… That happened.
“This doesn't count as the first step!” I called into the snow, hoping this didn’t qualify as an ill omen.
It was time to employ the strider.
Being a cybersurgeon’s only filly has its perks. Also some massive drawbacks. But mostly perks!
I tethered my link module to my strider with a thought, the second the sparklewave transceivers’ signal reached the strider, I could feel the robotic contraption as if it were a part of my own body.
I extended the small device’s slender legs, and a moment later they telescoped outwards with a smooth hiss of well-oiled metal and the slightest mechanical hum. Each of the four spike-tipped legs sank into the snow with an effortless crunch, and slowly hoisted me upwards out of the surprisingly warm snowbank.
My strider fully deployed without a problem, lifting me three meters upwards. This turned out to be about half a meter above the snow.
I frowned. Snowshoes might be the better call here… But a glance down the mountainside showed that the deep snows gave way to rocks and dirt only a few hundred meters down the slope. I’d much rather have the wider stance and longer reach of the strider’s legs right now.
“This is the first step, okay?” I said to the fates as I began to scuttle down the mountainside.
”The hay it is,” fate said in my imagination.
“Quiet, you…”
☢★★◯★★☢
Climbing down that mountain took me hours. Many agonizing hours. True, my body wasn’t doing much of the work, but remote controlling a robot with your mind for long periods can cause brain strain headaches. It’s even worse when your mom loves machines so much she ensured your link module converts basic telemetry into physical sensations so you know if you’ve hurt the machine you’re using.
You know, because that way you’ll feel it every time you do.
I had to switch from my strider back to my own four legs once I felt its main bearings start to get a little warmer than I liked. It felt way too much like getting ropeburn to tolerate moving for more than a minute at a time.
Fortunately, I’d made it into the foothills at the mountain’s base before I had to fold her up again.
At the base of the mountain was a leafless forest full of dense underbrush. Underbrush so dense that I’d mistaken the brown tangles of bare tree limbs for patches of dirt when up on the mountaintop. The sheer density of the trees and brush astonished me. I remembered Equestria being filled with dead or dying trees, big ones, ones that had the density to not be blown over or shredded by the balefire bombs.
This forest was flooded with underbrush. Little clusters of bushes, some ferns, and even a weird vine I’d never seen before. The creeper’s main body was black, and lined with red thorns. Every so often a small bile yellow bulb grew out of the vine. What impressed me was that the vines, ferns, and bushes were all obviously alive!
Some of them even had berries on them!
Unfortunately, the brush meant that my progress through the woods was slow. Each step required pushing through the dense barrier of foliage. The thorns caught my cloak so often that I was forced to fold it up and put it in my right hoof bag, and even after removing it they still bit into my fur and clothing like they were trying to keep me out of Equestria.
Thank Celestia I had my sun goggles! They were great at keeping the stupid thorns out of my eyes.
A short ways into the woods the terrain itself decided to make my life even more difficult. The ground became uneven shale, as if I were walking on the crumbling scales of an enormous beast. One which was made entirely of hills and staircases.
I decided that until I learned what the locals call these woods, I would refer to them as ‘the Forest of Aggravation’.
At least there weren't any animals or monsters to be seen, or heard. Though I could swear I smelled something... Whatever had allowed these plants to thrive here clearly didn’t extend to animal life. It had to be rare here.
By the time the sun began to set I was fairly certain that I was halfway through the Forest of Aggravation. My reasoning was that I had been moving generally upwards while crossing the the oddly stair-like hills for a very long time and now I was moving down again.
Amazingly, going down the hills was slightly more terrible than moving up them. I felt like each and every hoofstep was going to be the one where I finally slipped and fell rump over snoot into a briar patch.
The dim light didn’t help finding a feeling of balance, either. The trees cast shadows at more angles than it felt like they should. I hadn’t noticed this aspect of the Forest of Aggravation at first because the sun had been nearly overhead. The sun was still setting, somehow, but it was much darker than nightfall in a forest had any right to be.
The Forest of Aggravation had to be magical. A unicorn wizard had found these hills, gotten frustrated or something, and decided everypony to ever walk among them thereafter would have to be just as frustrated as she had been.
None of my other theories made much sense.
I paused for a moment to check my compass. The dense brush made seeing its face nearly impossible, and made seeing anything other than trees actually impossible. My compass was the only way to make sure I was on course, because I’d stopped trusting the shadows at sunset. I mean, the first sunset.
I couldn’t even tell if the sun was still setting, or had set then come back up to set again… I hate these stupid woods.
As I reached into my bag to take my compass out, my ears perked towards a faint sound. The first sound aside from myself I’d ever heard in the Forest of Aggravation. It must be a trap!
I facehooved and groaned. Just because this was the worst woods I’d ever been in didn’t mean that the animals in it were dangerous to me. Besides, I had no idea what I’d heard. It could have been a tree falling in the forest, and I’d never know.
I closed my eyes and swiveled my ears, searching for the source of the noise. It was to my left and slightly ahead of me, and it wasn't a falling tree, it was a voice.
“— ot joking! Patrollin’ these woods really do make me wish someone would drop balefire on ‘em.”
I smiled. That was a stallion’s voice, and he was talking to somepony else. Ponies! Ponies who shared my almost-hatred of these stupid woods. I should go ask for directions, or at least get a closer look to make sure they weren't bandits.
I turned and began to walk through the brush towards them, doing my best to be as quiet as possible, just in case they were hostile. After a few more meters I could hear their conversation pretty clearly. It sounded like there were at least five ponies, and they were patrolling the woods not for some boss, but for a major.
That solidified it. They were soldiers! It would be safe for any courier to ask them for directions to the nearest town.
I pushed my way through the brush and emerged in a large clearing where six ponies had set up camp. They had a small cooking fire, two tents which looked large enough for two ponies to awkwardly sleep together, and were clustered around their fire for warmth.
The ponies themselves were an earth-tone mix of earth ponies and unicorns. It looked like each of these ponies had been chosen to be soldiers strictly due to their fur and manes being natural camouflage. Was career marked by color in the Heartlands? What would my stripes make me?
They had matching vests which might be a form of body armor as they appeared thick and sturdy enough to hide a metal plate inside. The cloth was olive green, and each vest’s design had a distinct ‘uniform armor’ vibe. They weren’t machine produced, but they looked a lot like wartime flack vests.
They also had a ranged weapon and a melee tool each. One shotgunner, one arbalest, four pistoleers. Not exactly good weapons, but they all had the same small bags on the back of their vests marked with a red cross. Bandits don't universally carry medical kits.
That said, bandits often have brands, and as I quietly circled around them in the dark I noted that each of the six had a series of stripes, curved like a rainbow, branded into the flesh of their right shoulder. That brand gave me pause, until I saw a matching symbol on the back of their vest above the medical pack, as well as their second brand.
Each of them had a letter and a symbol, or two letters, branded over their left eye. It took me a moment to understand they had branded their blood types onto their faces. While extreme, that would be useful for a medic. Perhaps Heartland ponies had… Interesting new military traditions.
These six didn’t seem to have heard me approach, a small miracle given the brush. I cleared my throat to draw their attention.
Six pairs of ears instantly swiveled in my direction. By the time they were mid-jump, smoothly drawing their weapons while turning in my direction in one fluid motion, I realized that this had been a terrible idea.
My eyes widened in terror. Their mouths and magic closed around their weapons. I managed to get my forehooves up before they fired. “Friendly! Friendly!”
Thankfully, the six paused. Five of them turned towards a short but very muscular unicorn who wielded a 10mm pistol in his gray-green arcane grip.
“Uh, Sarge?” The unicorn with a shotgun asked. “We got any zebras?”
Their Sergeant, who I hoped wasn't named Sarge, shook his head. “Nope. They don’t hire stripes. Who are you? What are you doing here? And keep your saddle’s trigger folded away!”
I frowned, not sure why they were so inclined to think I was host—
Oh. Yes. I was pointing a pair of magical energy weapons in their direction. Time for diplomacy.
I slowly lowered my hooves to stand normally on the ground. “I’m sorry, gentleman—”
“I’m a mare!” One of the shoulders growled around her weapon’s mouth grip.
“— and lady,” I added as swiftly as I could.
She did not look like a mare. The poor girl had the opposite of my problem. I looked like a pinup artist’s stylized depiction of a mare. It turned stallions off more often than not. Actually, every time.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I continued, noting how all six of them were keeping me in their view while scanning the woods for anypony else. “I’m traveling through the area and heard your conversation. I was hoping you could direct me to the nearest settlement.”
Something told me it wouldn’t be a good idea to say I was traveling alone.
Sarge took a step towards me, his mud brown mane fell across his eyes as he moved, but didn’t seem to hinder him in the slightest. “If you’re really here just to talk, you’ll take that saddle off and slide it over here, along with your pistol.”
I raised an eyebrow. I understood them wanting me to disarm. I was carrying a lot of firepower. But I didn’t want to.
“I don’t have my trigger deployed,” I reminded, well lied. Mine didn’t have one. “You could also easily kill me while I drew my pistol. Surely that’s enough for us to have a civilized conversation?”
The sargent pointed to my chest with one hoof. “I’m going to count to three. If you don’t start taking that saddle off, we’ll fill you so full of holes your corpse will look like it should be spread over bread.”
Well, buck. My ears and tail drooped in defeat. Just as they could shoot me before I had my pistol out, they could shoot me before I could get back in the treeline. Fortunately for me, their pistols didn’t pose a threat to me. Unfortunately, that shotgun might. It depended what kind of shells were loaded in its twin barrels.
I took a second to weigh my options. I could either kill six ponies with an energy weapon that was very distinctive and thus easily traceable back to me, or I could disarm for a moment and talk things out.
“One,” the sergeant said.
They did look like soldiers. They were acting like soldiers. Bandits would have just fired, and probably not checked the trees for other ponies…
“Two…”
“I’ll disarm. Give me a moment,” I turned away from the six and reached down with my hoof to unbuckle my saddle’s clasps, hoping that turning away from them would prove I wasn’t hostile.
I undid the first clasp, then the second. The moment my saddle started to slide off my back I felt it get yanked upwards. One of the unicorns had levitated it, along with my pistol, up and out of my reach. Before I could fully process this turn of events two of the earth ponies tackled me to the ground.
A rather old looking fibery rope came out of one of their vests and began to loop around my legs.
I had made a grave mistake. Heartland bandits were absurdly well organized and equipped!
I thrashed, twisted, and turned, but a zebra is no match for a pair of earth ponies. My legs were hogtied in just a few moments. I couldn’t help but feel that if the orange stallion astride my belly had chosen to invest his time in being a rancher he’d have the world record for radhog tying in the bag.
“She’s secure, sir!” The orange stallion announced as he stepped off me, allowing the sergeant to step forward and loom over me, his head framed by the dull orange of the still setting sun.
Okay, Gears. How will you get out of this one?
I began to twist and pull at the rope binding my legs together. It wasn’t very strong. If I had a few moments I could probably snap it by pulling on it long enough with all four of my legs. The problem was, well, I didn’t have one moment.
The sergeant stared me in the eyes for a long moment then asked. “That saddle have any safety features? Aura lock? Trigger keyed to your bite? That thing on the back some kind of bomb?”
“It doesn't have a trigger. It’s useless to you,” I said as calmly as I could.
It was also out of my link range… I needed a better antenna.
Any advice, imaginary dad? I thought I was supposed to know what to do when things needed to be done.
”Well, for starters, don’t hand over your kit to strangers.”
Gee thanks, imaginary dad… I wish you knew things I didn’t.
“She’s right, sir,” one of the bandits called from out of my field of view. “The saddle’s got no control arm.”
The sergeant's eyes narrowed angrily. “Zebras… You all think you’re so special. Smarter, more dangerous, stronger, faster, all of that rot. But you still do stupid shit like try to bluff your way past ponies with useless weapons. Let me guess, the pistol’s dead too, isn’t it?”
Now there was something to make them think. My own guns were definitely dangerous to me. I nodded and sighed. “You got me… None of my weapons actually work… I don’t have anything of value other than those pieces of scrap. Why don’t you let me go?”
I subtly strained at the ropes binding my legs. I could hear the old fibers creak as they started to pull apart… But I needed more time.
If I could get away into the woods for a few moments, I could retrieve my guns under the cover of darkness.
The Sergeant shook his head and aimed his 10mm squarely at my temple. I saw his eyes dilate as he looked down its sights to make sure it was aimed properly. “Or, I could rid this good world of a zebra. I haven't done my good deed for the day yet, and the sun should set any minute now, so…”
He smirked and concentrated his aura around the trigger, wanting me to know he was pulling it before he fired.
I shifted my head slightly, adjusting the angle between it, his gun, and one of his friends. Hopefully, I had the math right...
“You should switch with your friend and use the shotgun,” I warned as I put even more pressure on the ropes.
“Please,” the sergeant snorted and rolled his eyes. “I know what a 10mm does to a zebra’s skull. Same thing it does to everything else.”
He pulled the trigger. The pistol fired. The muzzle flash blinded me, even with my goggles on. I felt the bullet hit my head, rip through my skin, and bounce off my subdermal armor. It felt like a horse kicked me in the face. Even with armor, getting shot is not fun. But I was alive.
Having a cybersurgeon for a mom is mostly perks!
The ricochet sped off into the night and struck one of the bandits in the shoulder. I heard him scream in pain. I wanted to join him, but my pain was too intense to scream out loud. What the hay had he loaded his gun with?!
The Sergeant stared down at me in stunned disbelief. If the pain from the shot hadn’t been so bad, I might have had a snappy quip to hit him back with. Instead, ignoring my aching head, I snapped the ropes binding my legs and rolled to my left just in time to dodge the volley of gunfire which peppered the patch of ground I’d been laying on the moment before.
I rolled up onto my hooves and realized three things. First, I needed a gun. Second, the dirt spray told me the shotgun was loaded with slugs, so it was deadly to me. Third, my only remaining weapon could only be used once a minute.
I literally had one shot at surviving this.
Fortunately, I was good shot. Unfortunately, my right eye was still speckled with white dots from getting shot in the head, the ripped skin itched where my implants were busily growing new tissue to seal the gap, and coolant oozing from the wound was leaking into both of my eyes, making them burn... Also, my left eye was about to be blind for a little bit.
Steeling myself, I aimed at the sergeant's forehead, and fired.
A fresh spike of pain lanced through my head as my ocular laser burned away the fleshy covering of the left eye. Shards of hot crystal sprayed back into my face as my goggles lens exploded as the laser shattered them, adding that much more to the pain cocktail.
The sergeant's forehead smouldered. I’d hit him! He toppled forward as his troops fired. I dove forwards, half to dodge the bullets, half to grab the 10mm as it fell from his dead grasp.
I hit the dirt, skid a short distance, and fell short of the 10mm by a quarter meter. Something solid slammed against my left leg with a loud thud, stopping at my armor rather than bouncing off. The pain was excruciating. I screamed.
That was buckshot. Please be out of slugs.
Bullets peppered the earth around me as I crawled towards the dead bandit’s gun, praying none of the unicorns would realize I was going for it and yank it away.
My half-working eye was fixed on the dropped gun. My left eye was still offline, cutting my field of view in half. I reached the dead bandit’s 10mm and wrapped my mouth around the grip and trigger. A pair of bullets struck me in the side, but compared to the throbbing pain in my leg they were nothing.
My left eye came back online. The laser was still recharging, but I could see again. I could see… That the bandits had scattered to cover behind logs and rocks.
Wonderful...
I rolled to the side, trying to get some distance between myself and the bandits before I sprang to my hooves, the 10mm pointed in the direction of the enemy. The mare poked her head out from behind a log to take a shot at me. She happened to move right into my sights. I fired.
Her head split open like a wet dumpling full of chunky salsa being crushed under hoof. I felt the recoil push me back nearly a centimeter.
What kind of ammo was this thing loaded with?! No wonder my eye was only just starting to clear up.
“Buck this!” Someone cried.
I turned, spotting movement out of the corner of my eye. One of the bandits was standing up. He had something in his hoof. What was he biting? Wait—
Oh! He had a grenade.
Not good! I’m only rated for small caliber pistols, not bombs!
The pin glittered in the stubborn sunset light as he ripped it from the grenade. I moved as if to run to my right. He threw the grenade my way. I pivoted on my front legs and shot off to my left, taking three long steps before diving for the ground.
The grenade exploded, throwing me a meter or so across the ground, where a large rock ripped the gun from my mouth as I slid past it. My underside stung more than hurt as shrapnel peppered it, none of which pierced my armor.
Thank Celestia! If I had been a hoof’s reach closer…
“Good idea!” Somepony yelled over my ringing ears’ protests.
I looked up. Another of the bandits had produced a grenade from… Wherever they had been keeping their kits. The medical bags served as general purpose bags. I should have realized they’d looted old army gear, or something.
I started to climb to my hooves to dodge the grenade, but the bandit was already pulling the pin. I had no time.
”Charge him. He won't throw it at his own hooves!” Dad’s imaginary voice screamed at me.
I charged. Or at least, I started too. I stood up to charge, and he pulled the pin free from the grenade.
Well… There’d been a lot of good runs. All of this, and I die because I did something stupid. Seems about right.
I felt nothing but bitter irony and raw terror as the bandit shifted to throw his grenade. “Please! I don't want to go!” I begged.
For whatever reason, he decided to stop and taunt me. “Too bucking bad, stripes!”
His taunt didn’t buy me the time to dodge. It didn’t buy me the time to charge, or pick up the gun I’d dropped.
It did buy enough time for someone to put a bright blue laser bolt through his upheld grenade.
The bandit’s head and shoulders vanished in a fireball and a dull thud as the grenade exploded at less than full strength, some of its powder having been vaporized by the shot. His hindquarters simply fell over, spilling his entrails across the ground.
Before I could blink, another blue bolt zipped out from the treeline. It streaked through the air with a crackling sound that reminded me of a hawk's cry, and slammed into the side of another bandit. The bandit screamed, immediately dropping his revolver as he began to have a seizure. Bloody foam suddenly filled his muzzle as he gurgled and convulsed on the ground.
I felt my whole frame constrict in sympathy as I watched that dying bandit vomit up blood and keep twitching.
Celestia’s. Bucking. Teats. What. Was. That. Gun!?
“OH, BUCK, THE HAY NO!” One of the remaining bandits shrieked as he fired randomly into the woods where the bolts had come from.
“LEG IT!” The other screamed.
The two broke cover and began to run into the trees. Six more blue bolts of seizure-death streaked into the trees after them. I had no idea if they hit or not. I was too busy waving my legs in the air and shrieking, “Friendly! Friendly! Friendly! Friendly! Friendly! Friendly!”
If that gun did that to an organic pony, I didn’t want to even think about what it would do to me.
I saw somepony start walking out of the trees, and moved to cover my left eye before realizing the false eye and skin had regrown. My savior wouldn’t immediately see that I’m a cyberpony.
Being what I am has kept me from getting a special somepony for two hundred years, even though I look normal on the outside. It would definitely be reason for a less tolerant pony to shoot me on sight.
With a spasm gun, in this case.
A unicorn mare trotted out of the woods, her face lit by the bold blue glow of her horn, as she held a surprisingly slender, elegant, and sinister black laser pistol in her magical grip. I thanked Celestia the weapon was pointed down at the ground and not at me.
Nearly all of her body was covered in a patchwork cloth jumpsuit held together by ropes lashed around her legs, and shoulders. There wasn't any kind of rhyme or reason to the particular patchwork making up her jumpsuit, hinting that she probably had just repaired one outfit with whatever came to hoof so many times you couldn't tell what the original fabric was anymore.
Her outfit left only her eyes, forehead, and the top of her nose exposed, thanks to the combination of jumpsuit, scarf, and a hooded cloak made from leather and festooned with yet more cloth patches.
I liked her scarf. It was clearly very old, but was well maintained and had been recently washed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought the scarf was made from silk. Its black, gray, and pink bands seemed to glisten slightly in the dim light, and perfectly obscured most of her face.
In spite of the scarf, I could tell she was grinning thanks to her cheeks. “Calm down, zeeb,” she said in an oddly melodic, thought slightly rough, voice. “I know you’re friendly. Only someone who was too friendly would disarm in front of bandits… Thanks for distracting them for me. I’ve been following them all day.”
The sun finally finished setting. Right when she said all day. She knew how time worked in this terrifying magical forest!
Oh thank goodness, I thought, she’s a ranger or something.
I cleared my throat and stepped forward. “You’re welcome… My name is Whirling Gears, you can call me Gears. I’m a courier for…”
I trailed off as she got closer and I could see her face and strands of her mane in better light. Her coat looked white, but more due to pallor. Her mane was blue, but like her fur, it was also very pale. Her red eyes also seemed to be a little bloodshot and sunken into her head, while her cheek bones were extra prominent. Almost as if she were ill, or—
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, but are you a normal unicorn or a ghoul?”
“Ghoul,” she answered casually, though her red eyes remained fixed on the woods where the bandits had run into. “Yeah, I know. I’m the best preserved ghoul you’ve ever seen. I’m lucky. How old am I really. What’s my secret? Blah, blah, blah... How about you pick up your guns in case they come back?”
“Oh! Yes… Sorry,” I turned and looked for my weapons.
My saddle lay on its side, and my pistol was a short distance away, dropped by the unicorn when they fled or died. I wasn’t sure which. The entire fight was something of a blur to me at the moment.
I ran over and quickly wiggled into my saddle, linking to it before I even fastened the second buckle. By the time my pistol was back in its holster, my savior had advanced to the treeline where the two bandits had run, and stood nodding in satisfaction.
“Yep. That scared them off. Good, they won’t be a problem for me tomorrow if I don’t make it up the mountain,” she said to herself as she began to look each of the bandits corpses with her magic.
I bit my lip nervously. I didn’t want to think very much about what her gun did to that poor bandit, but I had to know what it was in case there were more of them in the wasteland.
“Hey, uh, what is that gun?”
The ghoul turned around and flourished her pistol before holstering it, making me flinch. “Oh this? I found it in an MoA hub years ago. Officially it’s called a NeuroDisruptor, but I call it the Bad Trip. It’s a proto of a stun gun that’s a bit too powerful. What about those two shiny things? I’ve never seen a rifle with vacuum tubes on it before.”
Okay! She had a gun that was actually called ‘Thing that bucks your nervous system to tartarus and back’. At least it was a prototype. This means I need to immediately become her friend and never make her angry, ever.
“They shoot lightning, using a matrix which mimics pegasis magic,” I explained as I did my best to find my nerves so I could be polite. “I didn’t catch your name. What is it?”
The ghoul mare paused for a moment then smiled. “Most ponies call me The Wanderer. Or Wander. Take your pick.”
I nodded, deciding to go with the version that didn’t make me say 'er' twice in a row. “Well, Miss Wander, thank you for saving my life. I’m glad your settlement has rangers like you patrolling the wilderness.”
Wander snorted and smirked. “Ranger? I’m no ranger! Silly, zeeb. I’m a bard!” She announced as she pulled a stringed instrument of some kind from under her cloak in a dramatic flourish.
A flourish which was too quick for me to see exactly what she was carrying… Clever. I imagine she was worried I’d rob her if it looked too shiny.
I blinked. “A what? I’ve never heard that term. Oh! Do you play something called a bard? Like how a cellist plays a cello?”
Wander winced at the word ‘cellist’, making me think she wasn't a fan of that particular instrument.
“No. It means traveling musician and storyteller,” she said. “You must have brewed up a luck potion, because there’s nopony but me for several days… Other than a bandit camp, I guess. Scratch that, a former bandit camp. I was out here trying to find a way to cross the mountains into the Crystal Empire. What about you? Where did you come from?”
She was trying to go to the Empire? Why? Was she following the Enclave?
I gave her a mildly suspicious look. “Why do you want to visit the Empire?”
“Curiosity,” Wander said with no deception I could pick up on. “I’ve been everywhere else in the wasteland… I wanted to visit it before the war, but never got the chance. I was already up north to pick up some Aqua Cura and decided, what they hay? Why not just go where the rads still are? Beat the rush, maybe.”
I nodded slowly. It made sense that a ghoul would want to go where rads a— What?
The stunned look on my face as I realized there must be next to no radiation in the Heartlands was more than enough for Wander to come to a conclusion. “You’re from the Empire, aren't you?”
I nodded. “What’s left of it. I’m from Lith. I’m supposed to deliver a diplomatic package from our queen to… Whomever is in charge here.”
Wander hummed. “Well… I’ve never seen guns like those before, and I remember somepony mentioning that the Crystal City is where we developed all of our really fancy weapons. It also makes no sense for a zeeb to be way up—”
I gave Wander my best annoyed glare. “Sooo, that sounds like a slur. Is that a slur?”
“What? Zeeb?” Wander asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Yes.”
She shook her head with an incredulous look in her eyes. “No! No more than Peg, or Uni, or Earth, or Griff are.”
“You mean it's just a contraction?” I asked, the hostility that had been starting to build in my heart melting away.
“Yeah! Nopony will get mad at you for doing that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I like Zebras. Always have, always will.” Wander assured with an embarrassed frown. “Um, stripes is a slur. There’s a few more. I don’t hear them enough to have them all on the tip of my tongue.”
“I picked up on that one when the bandit called me it,” I muttered, glancing over at his corpse.
I felt just a little glad he was dead. Which made me feel a little ashamed of myself. Then again, he seemed to be into hunting zebras for sport…
I decided not to feel bad about killing him.
“Anyway,” Wander said slowly. “You don’t know the slurs from the nicknames, have exotic weapons, and are in the middle of nowhere. I think I’ll trust you at your word. How about you tell me how to get to the Empire from here, and I’ll tell you how to get to Two Bits. It’s the closest town.”
Oh! Well that was lucky. For me. Not for her.
I frowned apologetically. “Sorry, but, you’ll never make it on hoof.”
“You did,” Wander counter, gesturing to me with a foreleg.
I shook my head. “No, I was flown out here in an airship. I only climbed down the mountain and into the Forest of Aggravation.”
Wander snorted. “Close! This is the Woods of Woe. The name’s pretty on the—” she raised an eyebrow. “Airship? If you have an airship why aren't you flying closer to civilization?”
I shrugged. “Lots of reasons. The pilot was afraid of RPGs, there wasn’t a good landing site, and he needs to be on the mountaintop to get a radio signal home.”
Wander nodded. “Gotcha… Now, why wont I make it on hoof?”
“Well, for starters, do you think you can walk through a storm of windigos?” I said nodding towards the mountains. “There’s a really angry one right on the other side of the mountain right now. You’d also have to cross a bloodice field to get to our closest town from here.”
Wander winced and shook her head slowly. “Okay… So, do you mean windigo as in the monsters from the Hearth Warming story, or some crazy wasteland monster you just named after them?”
“They are actual spirits of rage with elemental powers of cold, just like the story,” I said with an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry, but walking to anywhere in the Empire is almost suicide. We train our Couriers for years before letting them go solo, and we still have a high casualty rate.”
Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. I smiled and walked over to Wander, searching for the best words to propose my idea with. “But I do think I can help you!”
“How so?” Wander asked. “Can you get me a ride? I can pay.”
I nodded confidently. “I can get you a ride, and I can even help you get to any township in Lith you like, completely safely. I even have a place you can stay for a while in my hometown.”
Wander pursed her lips and sighed. “I think I see what you’re getting at. If I become your guide for the Wasteland, when you’re done with your mission, you’ll be my guide in the Empire. Is that what you were thinking?”
I nodded and smiled. “Yes! I think it's a fair bargain. I know nothing of Equestria, you know nothing of Lith… And, as a ghoul, you’ll want to go to Lith.”
“Well, yes,” Wander deadpanned. “You have free radiation still. Right?”
Think, Gears! What can I offer a ghoul that would be amazing payment, preferably unique to Lith, and—
Of course! A bloodice amulet.
I nodded, giving her a smile as I now felt confident I could offer her sufficient motivation to help me out over the long term. “Sure do! But, we also are a mostly ghoul kingdom, and we have bloodice,” I took a quick breath as I prepared to explain that nasty stuff to somepony who had never heard of it before. “Imagine a bright red ice that doesn’t melt in sunlight and looks like fresh blood. If you touch it, you slowly die as whatever bit of the ice that stuck to you converts your body into more bloodice. It takes hours of painful suffering to die, and there’s no cure except to cut off the affected tissue.
“But, it’s useful. It does several weird magic things. For instance, if you use some of it to make the core for an amulet with a simple charm that would keep your fur clean, that spell is warped into something else. In this case, it happens to create a healing magic that keeps ghouls from going feral. Her Majesty gives one of these amulets to every ghoul, free of charge.”
Wander froze in place. “Y— You can guarantee I won't go feral?”
I nodded. “Yes! Well, Her Majesty can. Uh, and only for as long as you wear the amulet. If it comes off, you’re at risk again. I know you’ve made it a very long time already, but I imagine it would be—”
“A tremendous weight off my mind?!” Wander shouted eagerly. “You have no idea how much the idea of turning into a mindless zombie eats at my brain. Or any ghoul’s brain, for that matter. You want a guide, Sword Mare? You got one!”
I opened my mouth to say thank you, but Wander suddenly pushed her face directly into mine to stare into my eyes. “But, if I find out you’re lying to me about those amulets, you’ve seen what Bad Trip does to a pony.”
I whinnied nervously and took a step back. “Okay, two things. First, I won't lie about what my kingdom can offer Equestria. I’ve been sent here to try and strike up a trade deal with somepony. I’m supposed to represent our industry and technology. Honestly, too. I promise, I can and will get you one of those amulets in exchange for being my guide.”
Wander nodded and stepped back as well, though her face remained serious. “See that you do. I have to be sane for… Well, a good while longer.”
Thank Celestia I wasn’t making the amulets up… If only I thought it bring some! No, wait, then you’d have no leverage to negotiate.
“You’ll get it,” I promised again. “Second, why did you call me Sword Mare?”
Wander snickered. “Oh. That. You see…”
Wander trotted forward and picked up two rocks with her magic. She floated them so they touched my flanks and pulled them back so I could see the distance between them. Admittedly, it shouldn’t be possible for a mare to have flanks like mine if her waist is as skinny as mine is.
“This is how curvy you are,” Wander informed with a smirk “You look like the titular character from the Sword Mare comic. Only she’s an Earth Pony, not a zebra. No offense intended. I just find it funny somepony actually looks like that.”
Ah. That.
My cheeks flushed brightly as I decided to not explain that I’d had my mom give me some extra curvature in the hopes of attracting a special somepony, since at the time it had been about a hundred years and still nopony liked me. Nor would I tell her that mom was so clueless about what stallions liked that she used her old comic books as the template for the ‘upgrade’.
Or that we couldn’t undo it, because anything affixed to my chassis properly, like an upgrade, would well.. Well removing it would hurt really bad. I wasn’t exactly able to use painkillers or anesthetics.
In my defense, I hadn’t known that the extra curves wouldn’t work at the time either. The problem wasn't me not looking hot enough. The problem was stallions want mares who don’t have so much in common with their toasters. Even if she has effectively infinite endurance.
“I uh… Yeah. I know,” I murmured, kicking the ground with a hoof.
I needed to change the subject, fast. “So um… How about you take me to Two Bits? Also, could you explain how the Heartlands aren't an irradiated hellhole? That’s been… Really confusing.”
Confusing being the least appropriate word for it. I should have gone with beyond baffling.
Wander nodded once. “Sure can! Follow me. We don't want to camp anywhere near those bandits.”
She began to trot south east in the dark. I followed her, keeping an eye out for any sign of vested bandits. Their small arms wouldn’t do any real damage to me, but Wander wasn’t packing a few millimeters of magically tempered plate under her skin.
“Sooo, are you going to tell me about the radiation vanishing?” I promoted after a few long quiet minutes of walking through the Forest of Aggravation.
Or Woods of Woe. I liked hers better. It had alliteration.
Wander sighed the sigh of a retail pony who had been asked for the millionth time why the price was so high. I instantly felt like a jerk for asking the question and flattened my ears and tucked my tail instinctively.
"There’s a very long and complicated story behind how and why Equestria is clean again. If you're lucky, you'll get to hear the full full version on a radio in town,” Wander said coldly. “I'm pretty sure DJ-Pon3 is going to broadcast the story again this week.”
“Well, I’d still like to hear it. It seems like it would be a little important.”
Wander groaned. “I said, ‘it’s a very long and complicated story’. If I tell you part of it, you’ll ask so many questions I may as well tell you the whole thing. Especially since the same events also led to the founding of both of the major nations in the Wasteland.”
I was quiet for a few minutes before asking timidly. “W— Well, can you tell me a short version? Like, the minimum possible?”
Wander moaned quietly. “Sorry… it’s not you. It’s just that some foal will ask me to tell the story in every single town. I’ve told it at least nine hundred times in the last fourteen years… Which is how long the story’s been around.”
I moaned for a moment, knowing I was about to be a jerk, but also had a point. “I’m sorry but…”
“I know. You’ve never heard it…” Wander sighed. “Okay. Pay attention. The story of the Herd and the NCR begins with a mare named Littlepip who did more for the wasteland in a couple months then everypony before her had in two hundred bucking years."
Wander stopped walking, and I nearly bumped into her, then turned her head to the sky and glared as if looking for someone before shouting, "Way to make us all look bad, Pip!”
I blinked at her in confusion. “Uh… C— Can she hear you?”
Please don’t let her be insane…
Wander shrugged. “Maybe? If the SPP can see out this far past the towers and she’s paying attention to the border, she might have seen that little firefight. I prefer to think she sees all of my random yells into the sky.”
Something told me this was indeed a very complicated story.
Wander cleared her throat and resumed the story. “So, this real badflank hero type came out of her vault one day and slowly began to inspire all the right people into all the right actions... Uh, you know what? The ballad is better and shorter. Let me just..."
Wander reached under her cloak and produced an electric guitar from under her definitely magical cloak. Anything that can hide a full size guitar that well has to have some concealment magic on it.
Her guitar was gorgeous, and in nearly perfect condition, though still visibly old. The face was ivory white with a mother of pearl inlay and featured a small engraving of two eighth notes as a decoration under the strings.
She moved her guitar into position near her barrel with her magic, then reached into her scarf and pulled out a small stone tooth on a small chain, which she proceeded to use as a guitar pick.
Wander took a deep breath and struck a chord, her guitar magicly adjusting the sound as if the instrument was hooked into an amp, making me jump even though the noise was fairly quiet.
It’s just that I had not expected a ballad to be accompanied by a guitar riff appropriate for a glam metal song. Or for a ghoul’s voice to loose its raspy quality when she sang and become something... wonderful.
"From Stable Two Pip emerged alone,
an answer to the prophecy carved in stone:
"When you need heroes to save the day,
A spark will reveal the way.”
I had a feeling that while the song was shorter, it wasn’t going to answer my questions. At least Wander’s singing was really, really good.
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I noticed the 'new type of raiders' bit in the long description. At first I thought it Would be something like Caesar's legion, but now I think it might be the guys in combat armor. Would I be correct?
9412919 You would be. Since the Zebras in canon are allready Neoromans it feels wrong to me to just directly copy Cezar's Legion into a FO:E story, unless it's all zebras descended from Zebrican soldiers. Furthermore, that would make this story a New Vegas retelling, or close to one at least. I'm not doing that :3
I'm using a blend of things from Fallout games (2, 3, 4, Tactics, and Van Berun) and original work. These bandits share traits with The Gunners (Fallout 4), and the Jackals (Many Fallout games, mentioned in F1, Appear in , New Vegas, and Brotherhood of Steel 2).
After that discussion I'm definitely expecting a windigo fight at some point in the future.
It might mean that!
It did mean that!
That subdermal armor is pretty useful.
Ghoul bard, neat. I hope she's a companion.
That's a pretty good deal.
Companion acquired!
200 years of practice.
Gear is a cyberpony, sweet!!!!
Also yes never give up your arms to random strangers, ever, if they tell you to disarm, just start shooting, we'll sort it out later.
Hi Vinel, glad to see you survived your stable trying to kill everypony, well since your a ghoul I guess it did, stupid admin mainframe.
[Wanderer had been added to your party]
[Level up]
[New perk]
Given Ive read pretty much the rest of teh top ten or twenty largest stories on teh site I really shouldve gone through FOE. I have no idea why I havent. I blame Stephen Baxters nihilistic outlook on killing humanity off every way possible instead of at least having something going for them.
I wonder just how many words Ive written in comments over the years. Id hope at least some of them were useful to someone, and Im sure Ive actually had one or two good ideas.
How many of the old crew have survived in whatever various forms or memories accross the realms, or will there be as many in memoria?
The LAER looks familiar at least in variation on a design, but given its been years and not read prior stories, cant say what came from where, only that prybars dont usually run out of ammo.
All sunshine and roses? Just who is pulling the Enclaves strings in order to try and use the Rainbow to take out that which stopped it the first time?
It takes two to fight, but for a really big scrap, someone sets it up for profit.
9413476 Glad you're liking things so far :3
Who said anything about her being Vinyl?
9412919
Nice catch.
It's more than just some armor, though.
The Wanderer makes me think of Lyra. Also how is gears so old? Yes we could go with the 300 year lifespan for ponies and zebras but if not then how.?Even as a cyborg her organic parts would age.
9417996 There's a good explanation for that, you'll get it soon :3 Also, FO:E seems to imply that Cyborgs have extended lifespans. It implies that Red Eye has been active in the Wasteland for a very, very long time, and yet he seems to be not all that old.
On the Fallout side of this equation, it's cannon that Fallout's Cyborgs live a stupid long time. Kellogg was 108 when the Sole Survivor killed him, and he looked and acted like he was still in his prime.
He DOES look a little bit older after that cut scene. But not very much. He does still age, just very slowly. We can assume that cyborgs have a much slower metabolisum, perhapse due to relying on their hardware more than their wetware, or medical implants doing their jobs, or something.
Since FO:E's cyberponies are implied to have a similar deal as Pip finds a memory orb of Red Eye killing his Stable's elders and he seems to be just a bit younger than he is at present, but the Appaloosa ponies imply he's been active as the slaver lord he is for decades, but he is not said to be middle aged, or old, and FO:Es's ponies seem to have human lifespans... and Red-Eye's accomplishments before Pip shows up would certainly take about a lifetime to achieve. Scratch build an army, construct a massive cathedral, gather enough flamer fuel to burn down the Everfree, start a religion that has actual cultural influence enough to have wandering priests out to convert people, rebuild a chunk of a city with slave labor, invent "radiation Engines" that are totally nuclear reactors, etc. TLDR; if cyberponies have a normal lifespan, then the major villen of FO:E is a bit of a plothole, so it's good that its implied he's been around for a long time.
You can therefore conclude that FO:E's Cyberponies have an extended, though non-infinite, lifespan.
Had a little time where I wasn't distracted nor busy, so I finished the rest of this chapter. Tomorrow, as long as I don't sleep through it, I'll have about two hours of doing nothing -- so I should be able to read some more.
Anywho, plans that may or may not stick aside, that was a pretty fun chapter. I'm a little disappointed with those bandits and the opportunity they presented, but they were at least dealt with. See, I've been watching Red Vs Blue recently, and "Sarge" and his useless crew would make for an interesting situation. Their luck stats are incredibly high, though... :thinking:
The bandits as a whole were enjoyable, that's for sure. The way Gears approached them and their reaction just spoke "something is wrong", but I never placed it until it was too late. Maybe they will return to hunt, again. The taunt before the apple exploded, that was foreseeable, and I'd be disappointed if it didn't happen -- can never go wrong with the 'nades~!
That... hyper... hypo... that armor is nice! It sounds like it would be a great thing to have, especially when one is going into a firefight. The eye lazers... not so much. It just sounds... painful, and that just seems... repulsive. I'm just going to call the rest of her (?) healing 'upgrades' a passive heal skill -- much easier to remember (for me). The passive heal seem to work decently well, but not too well; I can see it being upgraded eventually and not seem out of place, though, I could see it removed, too. Where it is currently at, I'd say it is good -- not too much and not too little. It has been... we, field tested, too!
Next, Wander. I don't remember her physical description all that well, but I have a few theories on who's behind the mask. It could be Lyra, but she might want more... human-extremities. It could be... huh, I forgot. Fudge. Whelp, moving on. Besides her mysterious nature, the weapon sounds like it will go great with the party, and her... interesting personality should add to the group dynamic (now their MySpace will have three members). The Woods of Woe was a great line, saw it coming, but it was still humorous.
The "father" has been highly enjoyable, his dry humor is generally close to my own -- add in more puns and it'd get awkward or something! Wander naming herself as a bard was wonderful! I also remember laughing at the line with the... sargeant? sharing names with his rank -- it was probably my favorite part of this chapter. My favorite scene would have to be the same one as last chapter -- Gears talking with her "father" at the "grave".
Until the next chapter, sorry for the brief comment,
~Desh.
This sounds a lot like a certain SCP
Now let this be an object lesson in cyborging. Always make sure you know what you're doing. Especially if you're going for sub-dermal work in the torso area. Mechadendrites are easy to modify or remove, limbs can be made modular or interchangeable, even surface level cranial implants can be adjusted. All of these things can be obscured, camouflaged or outright removed.
But not the torso. Any, heh, bodywork done there is very nearly permanent. Stripping metal and mechanisms out of the body is much more difficult than putting them in.
9464649 I took inspiration from ... What is it? SCP-09? IMO it's more scary if it ONLY converts organic matter, because then the whole field of it is one huge mass grave and not just, you know, a former lake.
9464731 Sadly most novices do not think about the astetics of major upgrades untill it's too late to fix the issues.
I didn't expect Gear's first encounter to go quite like that. Especially after she got those LAERs. it really threw me for a loop when they rushed her and then when they hog tied her. Most FoE stories have bandits and such lead the protagonist somewhere at gun point so this was a refreshing take on this type of situation. Well done!
9491344 Gears is a mailmare. She's fought animals, monsters, and even the odd spirit or two. She's not trained to fight ponies, nor has she done so very much in the past. She's going to have to "level up" a bit before she will win fights without good luck or help. But that's for the best, I think :3
As for the bandits, yeah, just, holy cow is the 'captured and led at gunpoint' clishe! It's also not a good tatic IRL. It's basically just giving your victim chances to escape.
...cool
And suddenly all the world's problems have been solved
Heh. That is completely understandable. :D
Somehow this is adorable. There's also a fair bit of culture shock coming up, I bet. Something tells me that the weather only gets warmer, and the Zebras were living in an island of wintry hell unaware of it.
Ever ridden a quad barefoot through a wild raspberry patch? I suspect the result is similar. (For those who are curious, I suggest not repeating this particular experiment)
Huh. I was actually right.
Snicker snicker. Minor TMI there, but it's quite funny.
What is that song at the end? Is there an actual full verse to that, or a real song, or was it invented for flavor here?
Also eye-lasers are awesome, if slightly gross in function as shown here.
pegasus, not pegasis^
Silly zeeb. No comma is needed there.
9515325 Glad to see you inthe comments again!
Yes. I have. That was the fifth dumbest thing I've ever done.
I thought so too :3
I whipped up some verses in a parody of Dream Evil's "the Prophasy" for flavor. I'll do a full parody if anyone wants to record it, that would be cool!
Unless, of course she... was, Shatnering that line... BAAAAAD!
Ohhh swetet sweet winter child, snowy cold little Gear, you are gonna get a hawt hawt adventure south of the border. You think that minus 10 is hot, just wait until you find yourself in the real world!
Welp... Gear is special, very special... A good kind of special, noticing things like silk scarfs and naming woods, I like. Seeing her act out in her first combat did I fear that she would be like another pony with her special skills that I know, but she does clearly have limits to her abilities, even if she have more boons behind her than most wastelanders... Yea sorry for being a bit vague, but i do not like spoiling stuff for others.
If I wasn't hooked before would I surely be it after meeting this new party member. I had feared that Gear would be trotting the wasteland with her two sidekicks from the plane, but it is nice to see that they are staying behind and keeping the radio working while Gear is out exploring the whole wide world.
All in all can I only say that you story are oozing with originality all over it, yet are keeping both the FoE as well as Fo and MLP spirit. Its dripping with charm, and it is clear that you know what you are doing and have something well planned in your hands, its a shame that I haven't picked it up sooner than I did.
Nitpicks
"In a word: Don’t." is it not normally "one"?
"like an upgrade, would well.." Needs an extra dot here
9781851
This means a lot to me, thank you very much. I was worried it might not fir the univerce.
Wow. Having a cybersurgeon for a mom really does have its perks. Gear is kitted out well. I was wondering for a bit why her augments couldn't be removed with the aid of anesthesia, but that's because of the link module isn't it? She'd feel it through the augments.
Two chapters worth of spare time in and this already feels like it will easily overwrite the fic serving as my headcanon for the Changelings. Can't wait to see where this goes.