Terror Puppet

by Windrunner

Thresher Roll

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Nightmarish figures continue to take strides towards Ponyville now. Despite having suffered what could be interpreted as an immense loss of battle power, there is no way to tell if it has actually affected them in any real way. In return the town has lost something of equal value. This has perhaps equated to an equivalent exchange of damages. Luna at great risk managed to avert a nearly immediate and complete rout of their desperate defenders. Her survival against a foe this powerful has raised morale across the entire army, instilling a deep sense of determination to avert this ghoulish assault on sanity and reason. The ponies know something murderous is now stepping closer by the moment.

Despite this victory in skirmish, Luna is very badly hurt, given over to limping steeply. There is no time for proper healing at this moment. The field medics warn her they will have to break her leg and reset it in the future if she does not take the time now. She says it is a necessary evil. It is almost funny to hear such a thing right now. That feeling growing ever closer tells it all. Right behind the steadily marching corpses and puppets strung along in fighting units, it is there. A new evil preparing to strike. Everyone of any skill level senses that. There is no missing it. Something raging and dangerous in an as-yet-unnamed way. A shudder of sensation and fear shoots across these valiant warriors before reasserting their will.

The opposition coming at them this time is different. In their positioning and tactics, this disturbing army of constructs and the dead has more than doubled their effectiveness, inflicting much heavier losses each time they clash against the defiant elites. The commander finally orders their first reinforcements to be pulled into the battle. There is no longer any choice. Losses are simply mounting too rapidly. Into Ponyville they will soon be streaming en masse. The single trebuchet and few catapults will only be of any real use for a short while longer. The moment these terrifying horrors step into town they will be of no further value. Not worth defending with life and limb. As expected Wonderbolt units are taking few losses.

Unfortunately, they are also inevitably taking up more and more slack of other units taking losses. Once again injured and dead are piling up much too quickly. Twilight counts to have lost almost seven hundred out of a mere three thousand already. The deepening dreadful feeling closing in is of utmost concern. It is clear that must be coming from one of the four terrible figures. The first of which was nearly enough by itself to tear through their defense. Why did they not all attack at once? Twilight imagines there must be a reason. Perhaps those puppets are just too powerful to control all at the same time. It is only a wild guess. In truth, she nor any other has the slightest idea. Evil is trudging closer endlessly.

This many injured is nearly overwhelming to deal with. Most hospital staff and any others that could be spared with any medical knowledge or experience whatsoever have been kept in the east of town which has been converted into a triage area. Wounded keep pouring in forcing them to make the worst of decisions. Who to let slip away and die while they save someone else? Medical supplies are being used up at an unprecedented pace. This is a disaster that is far from ended. None are experienced with war wounded. Injuries unheard of in centuries requiring every ounce of skill to treat and mend magically or physically. Whichever is more appropriate. There are not enough unicorns who can heal to go around.

Crashing raining rocks and cracking trees will soon be the only defense left to the besieged region. The traps and fires having nearly been exhausted. There are mere moments before it begins in earnest. This has been a dress rehearsal in prep. Nothing more. Pegasi are not yet facing the true bulk of the enemy force. That test is yet to come. In the hours ahead they know it is going to come crashing over them like a great ocean wave of incalculable power. Everyone knows this is going to hurt. No matter how well they do, a wall of pain and searing agony will soon be striking them with all intent to destroy and sweep them aside like so much dust.

Such sorrow is present out there. A thing of wild uncontrolled dreams comes trotting at leisure behind the columns of walking slashing slicing doom. There is no hurry to their step. As though out for a midnight stroll comes this newest horror to sap willpower and spread disillusionment. Turning their hard-won and recent victory to hopelessness and defeat. This construct is different. Strapped upon it's back is a quiver aglimmer. Full of beautiful topaz colored arrows. In it's muzzle is held a most magnificent longbow gleaming in the darkness. A squalid light seeping out of it as a soft dark mist flows from the ends, the bow pulsing with power. The bowstring a solid black. A most intimidating figure to be sure. It moves with purpose and solidity.

It closes range slowly. Hesitantly maybe. Most likely some other reason. Hesitance does not seem to befit the array of mysterious terrors unleashed thus far. It takes stock of the town at distance. It is well-defended. In any other circumstance an attacking army would not risk such a frontal assault on a position so heavily fortified, but for a dead army it is of no concern or consequence. A glinting flash in the dim light gives the slightest indication an action has been taken. A course chosen. A river of suffering snakes its way towards the embattled town. The feeling builds and builds inside. For some reason one of the few changelings in the first wave of reinforcements quite suddenly collapses and shakes wildly. The puppet takes aim.

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The battle for Ponyville has begun.