The Adventures of Dobbelsteen Moerman

by TheDiceMan0407

A Mere Militia

July 12th 1010, 20:47

Fairflank’s Reformed Militia

Salt Lick City

Marephry’s once bright orange coat had dimmed with the layering of dirt that had slowly been patted into it over the last couple of days. Even with the coming of the night sky, his weary eyes and fatigued limbs had subsided in their pains with the arrival of over a thousand ponies into Salt Lick City.

They had assembled themselves on every street, in every building, from alleys to intersections. The Fairflanks Militia could easily be spotted out from the crowd as their uniforms were matted with dirt, and their faces were evident of pure exhaustion. Though many took the opportune time to rest, Marephry could see that where the Militia gathered, they looked to be quite relieved in relative safety.

Gathered more towards the northern entrance of the city, where the streets gave way to the beginning of the woodline of the forest, Marephry walked through their company and onto the beginning of the paved road. Selenite’s Night Guard, distinguishing themselves with their midnight blue uniforms, had taken it upon themselves to bring ammunition and much-needed assistance to the heavily overworked garrison he’d been tasked with.

Weaving through the groups of ponies and Thestrals on the streets of the city, his eyes eventually set on the soldier he was looking for.

“Don’t push yourselves too far out, I don't want you all to be left behind in case we withdraw.” Dobbelsteen, (who stood on the periphery of a gathering of four or five dozen ponies, all of which were helping themselves to their rations while resting on the sidewalk), was speaking to a Thestral officer of the Night Guard while the ponies listened in. “Selenite pushed out a timeline for when your soldiers will get more information, correct?”

With a brisk nod from the officer, Moerman sighed in relief. The attention of both settled on Marephry, who stopped only a trot away from either. “Major Moerman, sir.” Regarding him with a quick salute, he continued. “Uhm… they’re waiting for you in the tent.”

Adjusting the sling of his rifle, Dobbelsteen glanced through the dark streets of the city. “Don’t salute me in the field, son. Snipers would love to have me.” Remarkably, he smiled, leaving the two officers to look at each other in confusion, and then nervously around.

The streets of Salt Lick City had been sparsely populated, the civilian populace all fled and were replaced only by the skeleton garrison that Dobbelsteen was a part of. The windows and streetlights both were dark, glinting only the reflection of the moonlight, waxing and waning in intensity with the movement of the clouds above.

Entering the Commander's tent, situated on the side of the road and hidden by the looming shadow of a hotel, the flaps of the entrance closed behind him. Taking off his officer's cap, Moerman noticed it was quite cramped.

General Swift Wing brought only the bare necessities along with her, herself hunched over a map together with Selenite. The latter’s silver mane shifted as she brought her eyes up to look at Moerman, which grew with sudden relief. “Oh, Thank the night you're alive, Moerman.” She trotted forward, while Swift Wing remained where she was. “I sent for runners to direct Swift Wing’s forces towards you, but I had no idea whereabouts in the forest you even were!” She leaned around, practically inspecting him. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“Me and my soldiers were perfectly fine, Selenite.” He dusted off some gunpowder residue from his uniform, looking towards Swift Wing.

Above her eyepatch, her brow only narrowed in confusion.

The Griffon turned back to Selenite. “Well, we’re fine now.” Circling the table, which looked to have belonged in the lobby of a building nearby, Moerman laid his claws on the map of Salt Lick City. “...How did we do?”

“You certainly did something, Major.” Swift Wing only raised her hoof to pull out a map from under Salt Lick City, laying it to the side and showcasing a broader, regional map. “The Changeling forces, though only a discretionary force from the broader offensive on Vanhoover, had to be significantly reinforced to secure the forest you held. It appears they figured a much larger force occupied it than…” She stopped for a moment, shaking her head. “A uhm, single company.”

Dobbelsteen adjusted his sunglasses on his beak, looking up from the map to Selenite. “So… what does that mean?” He took a deep breath, his claws tapping on the floor absentmindedly. “Did we succeed?”

Selenite nodded, placing her hoof on the map. “The redirecting of Changeling Forces, to include the air force, provided an eight-hour window of respite for the defenders of Vanhoover.” Assertively, her hoof returned to the floor and her eyes set on Moerman’s. “Combined with the broader effort of the Night Guard to support Thunderbolt, he’s stated we’ve bought days of time for the evacuation of Vanhoover.”

With a grin appearing on Dobbelsteen’s face, a claw ran through the feathers on the top of his head. “That’s great news… fantastic news. My soldiers are resting as of now, but they’ll be delighted to hear that.”

Swift Wing shook her head. “No cause for celebration yet, Moerman.”

The Griffon stopped, shifting his gaze from Selenite over to Swift Wing. “What do you mean? Something up?”

“My forces weren’t able to significantly damage the advancement of Changeling armor,” Selenite said. “While our assistance has been great as a diversion, Sentinel still informs me that enemy forces are soon to overrun his positions by tonight, and has begun to withdraw from Vanhoover.”

Swift Wing cleared her throat. “Something we must do as well. He plans to withdraw and fight while backing up toward Tall Tale in hopes of reinforcements.”

Moerman squinted. “...Hopes?”

“Bluebloods’ orders, Dobbelstein.” Swift Wing brought her hoof to push back her blonde mane. “Equestria is far from any militarized society, who knows how long it will take Blueblood to muster any trained divisions to combat the Changelings?”

The Griffon scoffed. “Well, it certainly won’t bring any comfort to Sentinel and the civilians he’s responsible for. What can we do to help him?” Moerman’s uniform shifted as his claw moved to pick up the map.

“Nothing, Moerman,” Selenite said with a sigh. “We can do nothing. There’s no available route for us to pass through the Unicorn Valley mountains that separate our fronts, and going back through the forest is suicide.”

With his eyes darting all throughout the map, Moerman found nothing to contradict Selenite’s statement. Slowly placing it down back onto the table, he spoke. “How about the civilians? How long ago did the Civilians escape from Vanhoover?”

“The evacuation was finished two hours ago.” Swift Wing said. “It may not seem like a significant head start, but the Changelings still have to occupy Vanhoover. We’ve bought enough time for Sentinel’s troops and the ponies to head back to Tall Tale and reconsolidate.”

“...We hope,” spoke Selenite, her head shifting down away from the table.

Dobbelsteen’s eyes remained on the papers on the desk, taking in the maps and drawing out frontlines into his brain. Persisting through the haunting reality of the situation that stole the words out of each of their mouths, he broke the silence. “Alright. Too easy, then.” He leaned forward, his claw pointing along the roads that branched southeast from Tall Tale. “We’ll bring our forces into the Yeahcon southwest of here. Roland’s armored forces have no reason to turn from the west coast.”

Swift Wing leaned in, tilting her head at Moerman’s words. “I thought the idea was to engage Roland’s armor. He’d never advance through the Yeahcon, it's a thousand kilometers through dense forest and swamp before the next city.”

“Which is why Moerman wants to fight in it.” Selenite’s hoof panned over to a larger map of northern Equestria. “If the Changeling forces rely on their tanks and aircraft, we’ll be free to pull back from Salt Lick City and reconsolidate our forces without fear of being pursued in the valley.”

“With the Unicorn Valley mountain range and the tough terrain, once we leave Salt Lick City the Night Guard and any other divisions that we scrap together can freely regroup.” Moerman nodded. “So, it was as we expected. Elvir Roland is pushing along the coast of Equestria, circumventing the undeveloped plains of Equestria entirely.”

“But the exact capabilities of her forces are still unknown.” Swift Wing stated. “You’ve experienced the worst of her Army and managed to claw out some small victories against them.”

Selenite nodded firmly. “Twilight will be itching to hear whatever information you have gathered. The sooner she receives it, the faster we can revamp our strategy for the war to better combat it.”

Hoofsteps could be heard approaching, catching the attention of all three officers inside. Swift Wing’s hoof absentmindedly moved to rest on the holstered pistol on her side, before the flaps of the tent revealed a familiar henchpony.

“Contact from the farthest scouts in our element, Moerman, no more than six kilometers from the entrance to the forest.” Jungle Trek took off his helmet, with his brown mane gently falling behind his face. “All scouts have returned as you ordered.”

“Very good. Wake up the soldiers and get them ready to be on the move as soon as possible. This city is no longer valuable or safe for any of us.”

“Heading where, Moerman?”

Dobbelsteen pondered for the moment, looking back down towards the map. “Whitebell is directly east, the Changelings might get there before we do. Shire’s too far towards the south.”

“Pine Creek, then,” Selenite stated. “Multiple roads lead towards the town, so we can split our forces along them to avoid attracting too much attention. It’ll be a long trek, but we should be able to lose the enemy on the way there.”

Adjusting her uniform, Swift Wing gave a smile to the both of them. “Even if we run into trouble, my forces can hold the security to the rear. They’re far more rested, and we should be able to throw a wrench into any of their advancements, so long as we spread out.”

“That settles it, then.” Dobbelsteen Moerman adjusted the bandolier around his chest. “Until we regroup at Pine Creek, Jungle Trek, you’ll direct the company through the forest. I’m sure everypony still remembers our movement techniques.”

Moerman gave a nod to Swift wing, before looking at Selenite. “Oh, don’t look so sad. I’ll only be gone for a couple more days.” He jerked his head out towards the tent’s entrance. “Look after them for me, will you?”

The bat pony rolled her eyes. “More if we’re lucky, Dobbelsteen.” She sighed, brushing her silver mane out of her eyes. “I know your soldiers took a heck of a beating. With the Night Guard, they’re in good hooves.” She turned back to the desk. “I’ll see you at Pine Creek.”

The blue earth Pony tilted his head, “Wait… where are you going?”

He brushed past him. “I gotta get my plane.”

Jungle Trek blinked, looking between Selenite and Dobbelsteen. “You… you have a plane?” He followed after the Griffon, as Moerman put on his officer's cap, the two of them entering through the flaps of the tent and out into the night.

Leaving the two of them alone, Swift Wing’s one eye turned towards Selenite. Gently scratching her eyepatch with her hoof, she only sighed. “You know, a lot of ponies say I’m the crazy one, and then he comes along.”

Selenite’s gaze only lingered where Moerman exited. “...There’s certainly a lot more to him than he wants ponies to believe.”

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Using a discarded open metal ammo can as a surface to write upon, Swift Roller scribbled within her notebook. As the soldiers of the Fairflanks Militia buzzed past her, gathering their equipment and packs slung over their bodies, her gaze drifted upwards from her notes as she saw Dobbelsteen and Jungle walking past.

“Uhm, Major Doerman! Sir!” She said, trotting to a stop near them, holding out her notebook for both of them to view. “We should have enough rations to sustain the company, at least for a while. Fuel in the vehicles is running low, however, and we’ve been unable to find any spare gas in the city.”

As Jungle Trek took the notebook into his hooves to glance over the listed equipment, Moerman’s eyes stayed above to look at the company at large. Though they had spread out along the woodline at the entrance to the city, their eyes turned back to look at the Griffon.

With his lever action slung around his wing, the Griffon stepped forward and gestured towards himself. The Company of soldiers stepped towards Dobbelsteen, gathering around him in a circle as he took off his Officers cap. He didn’t even correct them using the wrong name. Again.

His mouth opened to speak, but the Griffon’s own words hid from him. At the gathering of the soldiers around him under the night sky, the gentle wind that swayed the trees and gently moved the waves of the nearby lake had brought shivers through his feathers. Though, Dobbelsteen could not be entirely sure if the chills he had felt had come from the wind, or the uncertainty that plagued his mind. For a moment, his eyes could catch glimpses of yellow light on the horizon.

“The evacuation of Vanhoover is nearing its end, soldiers.” His officer's cap held in his claw, he fiddled with the brim of it as he spoke. “We’ve bought invaluable time for the citizens and soldiers both, and they are as we speak moving towards new positions to continue the fight.” He paused, for a moment. “...You must do the same.”

After moments of silence, a voice spoke from the crowd. Lucky Twirl stepped forward, her bright cream-colored coat distinguishing her from the other ponies. “You’re not leaving us, are you sir?”

Taking off his sunglasses, the Griffon nodded. “Only for a short while. I must retrieve my seaplane and fly it back. All of us are to head towards Pine Creek and reconsolidate.” He leaned in, making sure his eyes had met each of theirs. “I wish to remind you, not to forget what I have taught you. Relying on the tactics we have performed these last couple of days, and relying on each other, will keep all of you alive.” Their gazes remained locked onto him as he spoke. “...I promise.”

“Sir.” Contrary to the more high-pitched voice of Lucky Twirl, Shooting Step’s monotone voice was recognizable anywhere. Some ponies had found themselves leaning slightly away from her sudden, imposing appearance, but her eyes only remained on the Griffon. “...We want to thank you.” She cast a quick glance around, clearing her throat. “All of us.”

The subsequent nods of the ponies that surrounded Moerman brought a look of confusion to the Griffon, who only fiddled with his cap more at the words. Jungle Trek leaned over, speaking. “They’re asking if you’re their commander now, Moerman.”

Clearing his throat, he placed his Officer's cap back on his head and nodded affirmatively. “If I am given the honor, Trek.” He turned, giving a small smile to his earth pony friend. “I’ll eagerly await to reunite with you all.”

Among the relieved murmurs of the company at large, Moerman’s ear twitched under his slight embarrassment. The warm feeling of belonging that tinged at him was slowly subsiding with the noise. A distant noise, one that he heard many times before.

The noise of aircraft.

Shattering glass was the first sound that pierced the air, as the fighters of the Changeling Army soared through the air and fired bursts of their machine guns into the buildings of Salt Lick City.

The Company immediately scattered to the forest floor. Shooting Steps and Brisk Sweeper dashed into action, wrangling groups of ponies into the woodline and out of harm's way. Moerman would have stopped to appreciate the sight of such effective dispersal tactics under incoming fire, had he not had to duck to avoid the low-flying enemy aircraft.

Caramel Crunch hooves kicked himself into action, yanking open the door to one of the trucks and rapidly starting the engine. He shifted into gear, as Wild Strikes jumped into the passenger seat.

“At least he’s thinking ahead!” Moerman yelled as he crawled swiftly along the ground over to Jungle Trek, the two of them hiding against the side of a one-story building.

“I thought we had Anti-Aircraft emplacements, Mr. Moerman!” Jungle Trek yelled, loading his bolt action rifle, and holding his helmet firmly to his head as the planes soared over them.

“Why can YOU get the name right, but nopony else can?”

“MORE IMPORTANT THINGS!”

“I’m sure they're working on it!” Looking around swiftly, his eyes settled on the lake behind him, and then back to Jungle. “Can you rally the platoon and bring them towards Selenite?!”

Jungle Trek looked at him as if he was the second coming of Nightmare Moon. “How in TARTARUS am I supposed to do that?!”

Firmly holding the sling of his lever action rifle, Moerman’s eyes darted back and forth. With a deep breath, he pushed up his sunglasses. “Don’t worry, Trek. I’ll give you a window. See you next week.”

Jungle Trek took his eyes off the soaring plane, to see Moerman runoff. “You-YOU BETTER NOT BE!”

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Throwing open the side door of the seaplane, and practically jumping off the dock inside, Dobbelsteen discarded his rifle in the copilot's seat and situated himself in the cockpit, starting both engines.

With the roaring of both propellers, the plane quickly gained speed across the water, much to the confusion of any soldiers who happened to be near the shore. His claws firmly pushed the throttle of the aircraft forward. Within moments, Dobbelsteen was airborne.

“Alright Moerman, you’re in it now”. He said to himself, as the aircraft quickly climbed altitude. Quickly getting up from the controls, the Griffon sprinted through the cabin and into the back of the plane.

Digging through compartments and containers along the walls, he suddenly stopped. While the plane continued to climb on its own, the sunglasses-wearing blonde Griffon turned back to the kitchen, opening cabinets and moving aside packaged loaves of bread, pulling out a-

“Yes, Moerman, it’s crazy.” He said to himself, looking over the Vickers Machine gun in his claws and firmly emplacing the disc-like magazine atop of it. “This whole war is crazy, you signed up for it, didn’t you?” Moving back towards the cockpit, he was shaking his head at himself as he returned to the controls.

With a hard bank to the right, the aircraft quickly turned back towards Salt Lick City, with an altitude that was no more than one hundred meters above the sporadic five-story buildings within the city. Angling the aircraft at a slight incline, the windshield of the converted bomber was able to show the city, and the six Changeling fighters that burst their machine guns sporadically into the streets.

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“Lieutenant Marephry!” Called Selenite from her vehicle, before ducking her head to avoid strafing from Changeling fighters. She called up to the rooftop of the two-story building once more. “MAREPHRY!”

“Yes, General!?” He said, his hoof retracting from directing the Anti-Aircraft emplacement from firing into the sky. “I hate to state the obvious, but I am QUITE BUSY!”

Selenite’s glare only got worse, but she shook it off. She herself was leaning out of a military jeep, parked along the side of the road as vehicles sped down the road. “The Night Guard has begun its withdrawal from the city!” She yelled. “When Swift Wing’s forces begin to withdraw, you better make sure you’re with them!”

“U-Understood General!” The orange-coated stallion looked around, before raising his hoof once more. “Changeling Bomber! Directly behind us!”

With the piercing sound of brakes catching the attention of both Marephry and Selenite, Caramel Crunch braked the troop transport HARD. Practically falling out of the back of it, Jungle Trek waved his hoof, “DON’T SHOOT IT! IT’S MOERMAN!”

Selenite gasped. “WHAT IN THE NIGHT'S NAME IS HE DOING!?”

With the aircraft being flown by nopony at all, the hatch at the roof of the aircraft was flung open, and immediately the rushing wind threatened to blind Moerman. Luckily, his sunglasses actively helped his tactical situation at this moment, as he brought the machine gun to bear on the roof of the plane.

The converted bomber was situated just behind one of the Changeling fighters, whose friends banked off hard to gain a new angle of fire down onto the streets.

“This is so stupid,” the Griffon said to himself, as he racked the machine gun in his claws and listened to the heavy sound of a 7.7mm round being chambered. His voice carried a simple monotone aura to it. Was it defeat? Acceptance? The creeping realization that adrenaline had once more overran what little intelligence this Griffon had? “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Nevertheless, he pulled the trigger, and a spray of bullets soared through the air. Tracers traveled the close distance between the two aircraft, punching directly into the fuselage of the fighter. Immediately it banked off with a sharp turn, abandoning its planned gun run off the street.

Down below, Swift Wing blinked her one eye in pure disbelief. Selenite, getting over her dumbfoundedness, threw her hooves in the air. “Alright, we’re rolling with it! Everypony is loaded up! You all know your route plans, and we’ll see you in Pine Creek!”

Inside the cabin, Wild Strikes practically punched Caramel Crunch in the shoulder. “Step on it, Caramel!” Swift Wing’s forces had begun to withdraw close behind, with the scarred General speaking to her surrounding officers. “That Griffons giving us time, start withdrawing all of our troops, but make SURE every wounded pony is out before we step out of the city!”

Back in the sky, the situation was only getting more ludicrous. Moerman had firmly held the machine into his shoulder spraying bullets toward other Changeling fighters. At this point, none of the bullets were getting anywhere near them, but they sure managed to gather their attention off them.

With a spray of bullets that threatened to take his head off, Dobbelsteen practically dropped the machine gun and slammed the hatch closed, bouncing back into the pilot seat. Gritting his teeth, he yelled. “Man, I just reorganized my furniture too!”

His claws yanked the steering widely upwards, turning the heavy machine into a rapid incline and disappearing into the clouds. The Changeling Fighters watched as the converted light bomber became one with the darkened night sky, as Moerman flicked off all navigation and cabin lights.

“Where?!” Yelled one Changeling pilot, “Where did that thing go?”

“How about where did it COME from!?”

“It's in the clouds, find that bomber!”

As the fighters picked up altitude in each direction, General Swift Wing caught the last glimpse of the city as their convoy of over a thousand strong pulled out. Lightly itching at her eyepatch, she sat in the backseat of a captured troop transport vehicle, looking over to one of the ponies whose eyes remained on the sky.

“...You from Fairflanks, soldier?”

Strawberry Cinnamon nodded. “Yeah… and that was our Commander.”

Comments

[shining paladin]

great chapter mate keep it up cant wait for the next chapter