The Equestrian Revolution

by Synclair

Chapter 1 - The Way Things Weren't Meant to Be

Chapter 1: The Way Things Weren’t Meant to Be

My heart raced. Everypony stampeded through the ruins, Mom and Dad guiding me through the darkness. I thought I was going to get trampled. Better than Discord’s zebras getting to me. I had to keep running, but my little hooves could only take me so fast and so far. The use of unnatural gunfire echoed in the dark night. A group of us tried to make camp in the ruins but we should have known that Discord’s zebras would find us sooner or later.

Eventually they surrounded us. Everypony around me started to cry as the barrels of the zebra’s guns looked down upon them. I crouched down… waiting… waiting for the sweet release. The easy way out didn’t come for me. Mom used her unicorn magic to push me into the center of the group. Both she and Dad looked at me through the legs of the crowd and gave a feeble smile, mouthing ‘We love you Glace’. At the time, I was oblivious. I was so young, just a small colt caught up in a time where foals shouldn’t have existed.

One by one, everypony fell. I guess I should be thankful that the roar of gunfire masked their dying screams. A warm sensation crept over my body as those adjacent to me began to fall. With the little gears of thought in my brain, I threw myself to the ground in time with the ones in front of me and played dead the moment I hit the ground. After what felt like an hour the shooting stopped, and by then our entire group was on the floor. Each one of them was still, dead as the earth beneath them.

I fought the urge to scream as the leg my head rested on twitched, warm blood beginning to mat my coat. I forced my body to be still as the zebras stomped over around the pile

“Do we burn them?” one of them asked.

“No,” another replied, “this will serve as a warning to anyone who decides to hide from Discord’s Chaotic Commune.”

It was hours before they left. It was painful to lie so still, I could feel every muscle cramping. The strength within me was minimal; I was never a strong colt. I couldn’t picture myself as a well-built stallion, only a young, thin colt who had just been orphaned. The zebras cackled around a bonfire and spoke in a different language. By the time they left, I had already begun to cry. As I stood up, my hooves felt like jelly beneath me. I navigated over each corpse with careful steps. Sure as soil, Mom and Dad were lying there, their coats ravaged by bullet holes and manes burnt by fire.

Until the sun rose, I cried. The thought of Discord’s Chaotic Commune approaching and laughing at me occurred one too many times throughout the night. I was careless, yet who could blame me? I had just watched everypony I knew and loved die right before me, what was the point in living anymore? A little orphaned colt who was too weak, too small to care for himself in a world like this. Suicide was an option, but the thought was too dark for an innocent mind like mine. The tears stopped flowing and I sat there hyperventilating. I dry-heaved and coughed and sniveled, but I had no tears left to give.

I sat myself on a large boulder looking across the horizon. The sun rose sluggishly and seemed a darker orange like it was forced. Like it didn’t want anything to do with Equestria anymore. Celestia had the power to raise the sun, didn’t she? What if she was still alive? Forced to abide by Discord’s very whim? That was a hope. Hope for the restoration of the old Equestria. Ha, yeah, right.

* * *

Each city and town was under constant surveillance. I could have sworn that even the propaganda posters were bugged with cameras and microphones. Discord’s Chaotic Commune was on constant watch, often lashing out at anpony who would make eye contact with them. They make sure that everypony is busy with some productive work; whether it’s in the sweatshops or stay-at-home crafts. Those who were found not working were rarely fined, they were beaten until they were on the verge of death and then given a cruel laugh and a warning.

My parents and I had been wandering the ruins for quite some time. I couldn’t recall what Discord made everypony make, maybe some weapons, new spells or posters. Apart from the ruins, cities and towns, there was another type of place. Patches of Equestria that lay in eternal chaos: upside down buildings, floating islands and chocolate rain which made everything sticky. It was the work of Discord. Apparently after all those years stuck in stone once again, Discord felt the need to perfect his chaos magic. Some said he was weak and needed to practice. Others said it was just a bluff to encourage people to rise against him, only to be cut down by the cruel God’s amusement. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Discord was still an intimidating monster in my eyes.

After scrambling through dirt and rubble, I came across a town. The zebras were drinking some moonshine around a bonfire just outside the town. I entered without getting caught and headed straight for the inn named Elven Spices Inn. It was dank and musty-smelling like every other building in the town, but ponies still laughed and joked all around. There were mostly stallions here instead of mares. I wonder where all the mares went.

“Welcome to Elven Spices, sweetness!” a cream-colored pony greeted, “I’m the owner, Elven Spices!”

Her cutie mark was of a green leaf and a red leaf with little white sparkles encircling the two. The mare’s mane was cinnamon colored and her ears were pointy and oddly-shaped like those elf-ponies in foal stories. She spoke with a cute, foreign accent and her golden eyes were wide with glee.

“I- I’m Glace,” I returned.

Glace the foolish foal. Glace the agile. Glace the pony with an ice-tray for a cutie mark. How do you even get that? With a gleaming white coat, an ice blue and oceanic blue mane with teal eyes. You would expect something flash as a cutie mark, especially with a name like Glace where ‘ace’ is present. Apparently I had a fascination with ice cubes and I’d make them every night because sometimes nights would get so hot instead of the usual cold. I don’t know.

“Turn that frown upside down sweetness, it’s the dusk of a new day!” She raised a brow and looked up as if what she said was right. Then she returned to grinning.

“So what brings you all the way out here to Trotten?” she asked.

For some odd reason, this mare was different from other ponies. She emitted some sort of warmth, a ‘good vibe’. So, in dire need of a new friend, I informed her of the massacre. Tears dropped from her beautiful eyes and her lips quivered. The café fell silent, everypony and his dog had their eyes on me and I fell to the ground.

“Get this young colt a room,” Elven Spice ordered the bartender, “now!”

Two stallions used their muzzles to lift me up onto Elven Spice’s back. I was so light that I bounced with each step she took. Upon the bed, she laid me down. The memories of last night flooded my mind and I started to cry again. Elven Spices sent the two stallions out. She placed a hoof on my back.

“Discord’s Commune,” she said, her voice full of spite, “sweetness, Discord’s reign is coming to an abrupt end, I promise. Soon there will be no more pain, no more death…”

She rubbed her hoof up and down my back, stroked my mane and all.

“What do you mean?” I sniveled.

There was a long pause.

“Ponies talk in hushed whispers of an upcoming revolution… but Equestria is divided into many sub-groups and factions that everypony is turning against each other. Every single day is a constant war, either its ponies fighting ponies or zebras fighting ponies or rabid animals fighting everypony. The leader of the revolution is a strong stallion named Silver-Lined Cloud… but that’s all I know. If you want more knowledge of Silver-Lined you’re going to have to speak to his second-in-command, Brass Tacks. Mind you though, Brass Tacks isn’t a pony who has a sense of humour,” Elven Spices explained.

My muzzle was buried within the mattress, my voice came out muffled, “Are they nice ponies?”

Elven Spices chortled, “Silver-Lined may come out as a joker, but he’s a sweet stallion with a heart of gold. Brass Tacks on the other hoof, he seems to be on the straight and narrow. He hates people wasting his time.”

I sat up, “Where can I find him?”

“Sweetness, get some rest, okay? I’ll arrange something. A young gentlecolt like you shouldn’t be wandering Equestria by himself,” Elven Spices said.

With that, Elven Spices left me in the room. The room was cozy and small. The little lantern illuminated the room perfectly and provided me with some warmth. Each painting on the wall was of different plants and the coffee table was decorated with old pieces of paper. One look at them and I could see that it was just poetry written in fancy font, I couldn’t even read any of it. A convenient saddlebag was lying next to the door and I grabbed it. It was empty and I assumed it wasn’t useful to anyone anymore, so I took it. I stuffed the poetry into the saddlebag and placed it on the bed

The ponies downstairs all laughed in unison. I wondered if I would ever be happy again, knowing that my parents would never come back and Discord’s reign was probably going to continue for another good century or so. The lantern burnt out and I was left in the dark. The windows were boarded up and only allowed little light to filter in as thin beams. My eyelids fell like anvils over my eyes and I fell asleep. My body finally gave up for the day.

* * *

“Sweetness,” Elven Spices crooned, “guess who’s here.”

I turned my tiny body over. Standing there was a stallion of a rustic color palette. He was an earth pony who looked a bit glum and tired. He sighed as I sat up sluggishly.

Elven Spices stepped forward, “I hope you don’t mind, but I told Brass Tacks here about the massacre.”

There was a dull pain in my heart which still ached.

Elven Spices left the room and Brass Tacks took a seat. His mane was butterscotch, his coat was of golden brown and as his cutie mark he donned three golden tacks with the pins pointing in to the center, forming a triangle.

“Glace, is it?” He asked. His voice was monotonous.

I gave a slow nod, “Elven Spices told me to ask you about Silver-Lined Cloud, so… um…”

Brass Tacks’ face was set in stone as the bored and glum expression.

“W- Where is he?” I asked.

Brass Tacks shifted in the seat and yawned. It took him a good two minutes before he replied, “Held captive in one of the Lost Ones' camps,”

The Lost Ones were illogical. They were ponies on the side of Discord, although the zebras treated ponies all the same, like scum whether or not they were fighting for the same cause or not. Unfortunately, the Lost Ones were numerous. They were no longer on the straight and narrow, only out for blood, the blood of their own kind.

“A real one?” I asked.

“A real one,”

“Are you going to do anything about it?” I asked.

Once again, Brass Tacks fiddled in his seat, yawned again and took another good two minutes to reply. He was as slow as me, and I just woke up!

“I’ve tried assembling a team of ponies to storm the place, but they none of them ever came back to report progress,” He said.

“How come you don’t try sending one or two people in? Try taking a stealthy approach,” I suggested.

Brass Tacks muddled it over as he raised a brow and looked into space. He smiled, oddly as if a light bulb just went off above his head. Hopping off the chair, he galloped towards me and we were face to face, eye to eye.

“Do you want to come with me? Take part in the revolution?” Brass Tacks asked.

I couldn’t help but smile and nod.

We left the room. I was so tiny next to Brass Tacks, but with him, I felt somewhat safer. As we stepped down, all eyes were locked on us again. People began to clop their hooves together. A few stallions cheered and Elven Spices came up to peck my on the cheek. Brass Tacks stuck his head in the air and smiled. I hid behind his hind legs. Brass Tacks gave an inspiring speech of reigniting the heart of the revolution. Elven Spices put some herbs and other consumables in my saddlebag. She explained that the consumables were for medicinal purposes and if I was hungry, I could eat them if I wanted to.

The zebras entered the inn and their guns in their mouths, their tongues wrapped around the trigger. One of the larger zebras had a large rifle strapped to their side and I wondered how he would shoot that thing. Then he kicked both his hind legs back and the gun sprayed bullets in the air. Two strings were attached to the trigger and hind legs, pulling his hind legs all the way back would pull the trigger too. It was somewhat creative, but inconvenient.

A few ponies screamed, but most just gave evils and continued their business.

“How come they’re not attacking everypony? No one is doing any work,” I asked Brass Tacks.

He crouched down to my level, “Well, zebras are bad, but they’re not that bad. Of course they’ll allow us some free time, but at anytime they can order us to go back to work.”

My parents had told me otherwise. Maybe they over exaggerated their stories to stop me from wandering into towns.

* * *

Leaving Trotten was as easy as getting in. The zebras returned to their bonfire activities and paid no attention to anypony but themselves. Brass Tacks carried me on his back for most of the way as he said I was walking too slowly. The ground was hurting my hooves though, so I thanked him anyways.

We crossed the ruins with caution. Zebras loved to patrol the ruins during midday. I shut my eyes as we past the corpses. Mom and Dad flashed into my head and I buried my face into Brass Tacks’ back. He sighed, glancing quickly towards the corpses which began to already rot and be pecked away by birds.

“So you’re a unicorn pony, huh?” he asked.

“Y- Yeah,” I replied.

“So you can fire a gun?” He asked.

My eyes widened, “Golly gosh, I don’t know…”

He tossed me the small gun from his mouth and I held it in the air telekinetically.

“Now I’m not a unicorn,” he said, “but I’m sure all you have to do is imagine pulling the trigger.”

I shut my eyes and just as I closed them, the gun fired. The recoil sent a stab of pain up my spine and into my brain and I dropped the gun. Brass Tacks smiled and picked it up in his mouth.

“Good job!" he laughed.

I levitated the gun back down to his mouth and he gripped it out of the magical state.

“Just throw rocks at enemies for now until we find a gun for you,” he said.

We stopped behind a rock and stared at a large building, an old warehouse. Corpses lined the loading bay on the side of the building and a run-down cart which contained crates was parked there. Bushes of Poison Joke grew around the cart and Brass Tacks rubbed his head.

“This is the place,” he grunted.

I hopped off of his back and followed him towards the building.

“No cameras,” I examined, “all windows are boarded, they won’t even see us coming from here.”

Brass Tacks looked at me, “You’ve got a knack breaking and entering, don’t you?”

I shrugged.

The doors creaked loudly but at the same time the metal door opened, a hearty bellow of laughter immerged from the darkness, masking the noise of the door.

We entered.