The Great Foal War
Ponyville Paintball
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Chapter VII
The last thing she would feel was the breeze. The breeze and a blinding light that made everything blurry as she stared at the pale sky above her. She could make out the sun, its shine dull and sickly white through the thick layer of clouds underneath it. There was no sound at all save for a thin whistling through her ears. It took hold of her entire hearing, cancelling out the world around her, freezing both time and space. At the edges of her field of vision, she could make out blurred and jagged black shapes that cut through the sky. She didn't know if they were the tops of pine tree or the claws of unyielding darkness creeping up on her.
Her little eyes, wide open, kept staring helplessly at the clouds. As the wind swept her face, her eyes watered slightly. She was hearing less of anything now. The few colors she could see were starting to blend into a single milky shade of white.
She smiled.
It seemed to her now, laying on her back under a ring of pine trees, that the light was becoming smoother -- slowly drawing her in. She sighed peacefully, knowing it would be her last before gently being taken to somewhere far and beyond.
Then suddenly, another much larger shape covered her eyes as it moved frantically above her. She felt surprised -- or at least what little feeling of surprise that she could still feel -- and the sound the shape was making was gradually becoming louder and clearer to her.
“... elle! Sweetie Belle!” said Scootaloo.
Sweetie Belle blinked, her vision suddenly taking a sharper definition.
“Come on, Sweetie Belle! Get up! Don’t you know better than to be lazy like that?”
She couldn’t think of a reply, or think of anything at all for that matter. In the shock of the moment she uttered the only few words she could think of.
“I knew one who had lifted it -- he sought, for his lost heart was tender, things to love, but found them not, alas! nor was there aught the world contains, the which he could approve.”
It was Scootaloo’s turn to blink in confusion. “... What the hay are you talking about?”
Sweetie Belle gave an exasperated sigh. “It’s poetry,” she said. “You know, that thing you read to sound a little smarter?”
“I don’t need any of that fancy junk! There’s a war going on here, in case you haven’t noticed!”
It occurred to Sweetie Belle that being Rarity’s sister did have some perks after all.
“Come on, get up!” repeated Scootaloo.
“I can’t move...”
Scootaloo saw Sweetie’s distant and wondrous expression. She took a deep breath, and slapped her friend across the cheek. The harsh and unexpected blow knocked the daze right out of Sweetie Belle's head. Sweetie held her cheek and stared at her friend in shock, who stared back at her with great seriousness.
“You are not gonna die now, Sweetie,” said Scootaloo.
Sweetie looked back at Scootaloo, and her expression changed. She felt like she’d been woken from a perfect dream.
“... And why not?” she whispered almost defiantly.
“Coz you’re not!” said Scootaloo. “Just look at yourself! You haven’t been shot yet, you’re just taking a nap and making it look like you’re about to die like some warrior, you deserter! You’d hate to be a deserter, wouldn’t you?”
Sweetie looked at herself. It was true; her white coat was unstained, save for a few patches of dirt and ruffled fur. She’d been taking a nap somewhere in the woods to get away from all the strife the game was causing her, but she wasn’t just going to admit that to Scootaloo. Scootaloo helped Sweetie Belle up to her hooves, dusting off her friend as she did so.
“Now, come on. We can’t waste any more time today, we gotta train. Tonight Apple Bloom is expecting us at the keep with the traitor.”
The two fillies trotted away into the woods, Sweetie Belle grumbling silently.
* * *
It was the middle of the night, and in a little treehouse that she had until now only seen from the outside, Cheerilee sat in a corner where had been bidden to stay. She took another look at the place: it was quite cozy, despite its rickety appearance. She smiled, imagining countless hours of sweet childhood fun that the cabin had seen.
The décor was minimal, but she knew that most of it was in the foal’s mind itself, where it could be shaped at will. What had this place been since it was built? A spaceship, perhaps? A pirate vessel? A lab? Cheerilee knew she wouldn’t be able to conceive every possible scenario, and that was what made it perfect. She also knew that right now, it was a war fort. Which would have been just as whimsical, if her place hadn’t been that of a prisoner.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She wasn’t a prisoner in the sense of being some enemy of the foals who claimed the treehouse as their headquarters; in fact, they obviously praised her quite highly. But she was being detained against her will. She’d been dragged here by force and made to sit in a makeshift booth of some sort crafted from a few planks of wood. One of them was placed above her head, and upon it were crudely painted the words Our fallin leeder (never fergit). On the opposite side of the room she could see a similar booth had been made, this one a true prison on top of which was also a sign that read The Traitor.
Why had she been placed here? She lifted her right foreleg and found the answer underneath, in the shape of a blotch of paint that covered half her cutie mark.
Seeing the ugly stain there, Cheerilee couldn’t help but feel a small pang of sadness. Winning a prize would have been nice, but on the other hoof, she was no pro paintball pony. She was a teacher. No amount of paint could sully the mark of her true calling.
Stuck in her little booth, the memory of the events that had led to this situation came back to Cheerilee, playing in her head like a recording.
* * *
It began with a very strong flash of white light. For a split second Cheerilee was out cold, and when she woke up it was with a buzzing head. Did she just say paintball? She thought she might have woken up from a dream so strong it had left her with a headache, but when she opened her eyes, any doubt she had vanished.
Cheerilee found herself somewhere in the Everfree forest, a purple gun strapped to her side, which made her slightly uneasy. But it was when she realised that she was surrounded by all the foals from her class that the adrenaline surged through her.
Lost in the Everfree Forest. With a plastic gun. With a bunch of defenseless foals whose own guns could only hurt them. The whole of Ponyville -- no, of Equestria out to get them. What was the princess thinking? Cheerilee knew that if someone was to take control of this situation, it would be her, and so she lost no time in doing just that.
“Alright children, everypony stick together now,” she said with a somewhat quivering tone. “Let’s… l-let’s be organized here...”
“Oh dude, sweet! I got a gun!”
“How do you use it?”
“Hey don’t point that thing at me!”
“I looove Paintball!”
“Does this mean I’m going to prison?”
“All of this is quite distasteful, if I dare say so myself.”
The sight of a crowd of excited, nervous, confused, scared and other emotional foals pointing weapons at each other made the hairs of Cheerilee’s fur stand on end. Out of reflex, in the fear that one of them might actually pull the trigger and create chaos, Cheerilee screamed, ignoring the fact that that might draw the whole woods to them completely.
“That’s enough!”
The foals all stopped their excitement at once and turned to face Cheerilee, all their faces bearing a dazed and wondrous look of having had some sense slapped hard into them.
Cheerilee cleared her throat. “Now, class,” she said with composure, “what have we forgotten about working together in a calm and organized fashion?”
The foals put on guilty looks that were not lost on their teacher.
“Come on,” she said softly, “there are lots of other ways to have fun than to point guns at each other.”
She started pacing through the crowd of foals as a general would while reviewing their troops.
“I know it’s a weird and unexpected situation right now. I don’t understand it more than you do. But what I do know is that we’ve all been brought here by Princess Celestia for a good reason. It’s probably for that same reason that she gave us these weapons… and unfortunately, it looks like this is a game where there can only be one winner.”
A wave of worried whispers spread through the crowd, as the reality of the situation seemed to finally dawn on the foals. Cheerilee felt a lurch in her stomach. She knew it would have to have been the first time her innocent students heard such talk. It left a nasty aftertaste on her tongue. Honestly, putting a group of children in this godforsaken place with weapons as harmful as toy guns could get? She did not approve one bit, and she could picture Princess Celestia retreating from her balcony over an emptied Canterlot, giggling as she trotted back into her Fortress of Trollitude.
“But!” she said, and again the audience fell silent. “That doesn’t mean we all have to turn on each other. For the time being, we all have to stick together as the group we’ve always been.”
Cheerilee could feel her words doing away with the tension in the air, calming down the children as well as her own self.
“So we’re all going to move from here and figure out what to do next. I know some of you are already familiar with Paintball through our sports classes with Pinkie Pie, so I want everypony to stick together and to stick with me, with no exceptions. We’re going to make the best of this and find a way out. In the meantime, there will be no shooting unless I say so, no going rogue, no bullying…”
As she said the last word, she couldn’t help but look in the direction of a particular foal named Diamond Tiara. As a teacher, Cheerilee considered it good to correct and reward students for their actions in an objective manner, meaning that she never got too involved in affairs that they made between themselves for fear of siding with one foal over another. However, it had occurred to her that Diamond Tiara was so frequently stirring up trouble between herself and the rest of the class and three little fillies in particular, that try as she might, she couldn’t help but feel the need to single her out in this one moment, to prevent something much more serious than a simple classroom row from happening.
But when she looked at Diamond Tiara, she saw something that made her freeze in her tracks and in her speech. She realized then, that whatever disaster it was she was trying to prevent, was going to happen in the end.
In the middle of the crowd she saw the young pink filly with her gun proudly lifted in the air, the cold darkness of its barrel staring right in the teacher’s face.
There was a very strange expression on Diamond Tiara’s face. Cheerilee, who was an able reader of children’s emotions, could see that the foal was torn between two feelings: one was power, the thrill of turning the tables and looking down on the master not as a student, but as a figure of authority, which Cheerilee could easily imagine Diamond Tiara getting a kick out of. But the other was fear, as if her power trip was being held back by the ropes of some feeling of respect towards the kind teacher, and as if the guilt and the reality of what she was doing were casting their intimidating shadow on her.
This latter feeling grew on her as she witnessed Cheerilee’s expression of pure shock. All the children’s heads turned towards Diamond Tiara with similar looks. They fell even more silent than they were before; so much so that it seemed to draw all warmth from the air, leaving in its place a heavy cloud of buzzing tension.
Diamond Tiara did nothing, her hoof still stretched out and her gun at the ready. But it was shaking now, as if her weapon were becoming increasingly heavy to hold up. Her eyes were wide and she wore a twitchy grin upon her face, that she made her best to contain and turn into a sneer. Cheerilee could see it was all too much to handle for the young filly.
“It’s ok, Diamond,” she said softly. “Put down the gun, and we’ll forget about it.”
It was all Diamond Tiara could do not to break down. But she would show no weakness. Cheerilee knew this, and she was getting a taste of how serious this game, simple and superficial in appearance, was going to prove for everypony. The stakes were the highest, and it made the head of the weaker ponies spin with the promise of the one thing their heart desired.
The one thing my heart desires.
Diamond Tiara was going to shoot her teacher. Both of them knew Cheerilee would not defend herself. She wouldn’t dare pull out her gun on a child. The foal’s hoof slowly steadied.
The one thing my heart desires.
It was hers for the taking. No one would stop her from getting it. Especially not these stupid children looking at her with their dumb expressions. She was staring at one big family of sitting ducks.
The one thing my heart desires…!
Her grin widened. She pushed the trigger ever so gently, savouring the moment.
Then there was a great yell from somewhere in the crowd.
“No! Stooop!”
It all happened very fast. Out of the blue, Apple Bloom jumped in the space that had somehow formed between Cheerilee and Diamond Tiara, who was pulled out of her daze. In her surprise, her hoof clenched, and a shot zipped through the air, straight towards the teacher.
Apple Bloom was not a novice paintball player. She automatically drew out her own gun, but it was too late. As soon as she raised it she felt Diamond Tiara’s shot hitting the barrel of her gun. She could tell that it had only half-impacted the gun, but the blow was strong enough to knock it clean out of her little hoof. It spun around before falling to the ground, and a second shot rang out.
The world was devoid of any sound for everypony when the commotion ceased. It left a shocking outcome: Diamond Tiara, staring aghast into space with her smoking gun still raised. Apple Bloom, looking at her own yellow paint-stained gun on the ground. And Cheerilee, the most dumbstruck of all, staring into space as she felt the burn of a paint round that had crashed on her cutie mark.
The intense silence in the forest was broken when Apple Bloom spoke to Diamond Tiara, a look of fury on her face.
“You… you traitor!”
It was then that crowd erupted into chaos. Foals here and there screamed and broke into a collective outrage. Guns were drawn and pointed in random directions everywhere, but no shot was fired as Diamond Tiara said something that restored a semblance of control.
“Wait!” she said. “I didn’t shoot her! It was your stupid gun that fired that shot!”
“Mah gun?” replied a stricken Apple Bloom. “Mah gun? Yer the one who pulled the trigger ya no good criminal!”
“Look at the stain’s color!” shouted a colt on the side.
All heads turned towards the ominous mark on Cheerilee’s flank. It was of a strange, pale colour somewhat between pink and yellow that couldn’t exactly be that of anypony’s coat
“Hah!” sneered Diamond Tiara. “Well how about that! A cute yellow stain for the telling!”
“Shut yer trap, Diamond Tiara!” replied Apple Bloom. “It’s… obviously yer ugly flamingo color.”
“As if!” snapped Diamond back, although there was a subtle hesitation to her words.
In the midst of all this arguing, Cheerilee didn’t move a muscle. She was left dazed by what had happened; but to her surprise, she was not so shocked that she couldn’t control herself. She felt an odd sense of calm, which she supposed was due to the fact that she didn’t have to worry about herself anymore. She realized that she could now devote herself entirely to protecting these children from others and from themselves. In the end it didn’t matter to her who had fired the shot. She decided that she would mediate the conflict and put an end to it in a disciplined fashion.
“Now, girls…” she said gently.
“Quiet, dear leader!” interrupted Apple Bloom, extending a hoof to silence her but still boring angry holes into Diamond Tiara’s face. Cheerilee didn’t know what startled her the most: the fact that Apple Bloom had shown such confidence in rudely interrupting her teacher, or the fact that she had called her “dear leader”. Obviously the foals were quite taken with their little war game; so much in fact that Cheerilee had to make an effort to convince herself that the foals were still indeed playing a game… right?
There was another short instance of silence before Diamond Tiara raised her own hoof abruptly.
“Who thinks she did it?” she yelled.
A couple of hesitant hooves slowly raised themselves in the air. They were followed by a handful of more confidently raised hooves, while some didn’t move at all. In the end it was hard to tell where the majority opinion lay.
“Looks like there’s no way this is going to go down peacefully,” said Diamond Tiara with ominous poise.
“Ah agree,” replied Apple Bloom. “This is how it’s gonna go down. We’re gonna escort the leader back ta the base, and we’ll figure out wut ta do with ya later.”
“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” scoffed Diamond Tiara. “Obviously the leader is coming with us to the I-don’t-shoot-my-leader side.”
“Bullshit,” said Apple Bloom. Cheerilee nearly choked. It seemed that now the foals were really getting into it. “The leader didn’t raise her hoof! She thinks you shot her! She’s coming with us. If anypony wants ta join us they’re welcome!”
The crowd slowly split in two, nearly equal portions, and Apple Bloom and her new followers slowly retreated from the rest. Icy glares were being shot from one side to another like arrows.
“Ah hope yer ready ta stand trahl, Diamond.”
“To what?” inquired Scootaloo.
“Ta stand trahl!” repeated Apple Bloom. “Ya know, criminal court perceedings?”
Scootaloo nodded, but her expression told Apple Bloom she had not actually understood.
“We might hold some negotiations first, though,” Apple Bloom said to her group, as they slowly retreated into the woods with their teacher.
“Some what?” asked Scootaloo.
Apple Bloom gave a sigh. “Fergit it.”
* * *
Cheerilee’s reminiscing was interrupted by a hoof on her shoulder. She turned around to face Apple Bloom, who had been writing furiously at her desk ever since they’d regained the treehouse, now by the candlelight that filled the room and flickered on its walls.
“Ya need rest, Miss Cheerilee,” she said in a reassuring tone. “It’ll be over soon, but right now ya better lay down an’ wait it out.”
Cheerilee gave the young filly an awkward smile. This situation was both really cute and really weird for her.
“Thanks, Apple Bloom,” she said, “but you really don’t need to put me here like this. I’m fine, I’m ok with not being part of the game. I don’t even care who shot me, so don’t make this last too lo--”
She was interrupted when Apple Bloom stuck her foreleg over the teacher’s face and eyes. The young filly shook her head.
“Ya got a high fever there,” she said. “It’s makin’ ya talk crazy. Mah Granny Smith says that when ya got a fever ya gotta jus’ stay in bed without much distraction and it’ll go away, so that’s just what ya need ta do right now.”
“Apple Bloom, sweetie, there’s really--”
“No!” said Apple Bloom. “Ah can’t let this slide! Ya jus’ got here an’ already that meanie Diamond Tiara’s gotta go an’ shoot you outta the game like the selfish bully she is! It’s not fair!”
She withdrew her hoof from her teacher’s face, and gave her a look so serious that Cheerilee didn’t know exactly how to respond to it other than with a sheepish grin.
“Ah’m gonna make this right, Miss Cheerilee,” said Apple Bloom. “Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle are gonna be back soon with the traitor for negotiations. We’re gonna make that meanie apologize right now, and boy howdy is she gonna look stupid then!”
As if on cue, the door of the treehouse opened to reveal Diamond Tiara, flanked on either side by the two other crusaders. It was time for negotiations to begin.
* * *
September 24th
From the journal of Apple Bloom, Commander of the C.M. Paintball Liberators
As I write these words, we stand on the edge of a great divide between us and the ones that have chosen to betray our faith. A storm brews dark and slow in between, and in its eye we shall do battle to uphold the truth against a fleet of infidels. I can only hope that this memoir will serve as a token of faith for generations future, and a witness to the events that are about to shape our people forever.
The terrible happenings from which stem these troubled times ceaselessly play in my mind. I cannot forget them, though I cannot afford to let them torment me and trouble my concentration further. I recall the stiffness of the air as we watched in horror the terrible traitor, Diamond Tiara of Filthyrichshire, take up arms against our leader so fair and pure. I recall my own bravery, and the gaze of the masses as I fearlessly rushed to the aid of our liege. It was a great moment indeed, but alas, I could not stop the traitor’s foul attack from reaching its target. And most diresome of all, I recall the traitor’s cowardice, her soul black as night and exposed to me as she would have the guilt of it all pinned on my innocent person. Such a dastardly, cruel-hearted beast she is! Let it be known that I have sworn to do all in my power to bring her to justice, and exact the vengeance of our leader most mighty and fair upon her stupid prissy face!
But I know that it is not long now before this glorious day is at hand. Indeed, after what feels like ages past since the match that set fire to the powders of war was first lit, today was the day that the end of this long road first appeared to me. Today was the day our negotiations with the traitor took place.
As I waited in our keep for my aids to return with the traitor, and was writing this memoir as a testimony to my courage and awesomeness, I sensed that I was not alone in my woe of this dark time. I heard a groan to my left; ‘twas our leader most sweet and kind. Promptly I stood by her side.
“You need rest, my liege,” I told her. “Soon the dark clouds that hang above us will be gone, and the dawn of a new, victorious spring will be ours to bathe in!”
Our leader attempted a chuckle, but only a raspy gargle made it to her lips. It pained me to see her in this dreadful state, and reminded me of much I hate that stupid Diamond Tiara.
“Brave Apple Bloom, you have my thanks,” she said in a low and frail whisper, “but I beseech you, do not let my sorry state be a hindrance your quest for victory. I am not long for this world, and I am deeply hurt about how my own subject Diamond Tiara has bitten me in the back like the snake she is. The wound she has inflicted on my soul is much greater than the one on my body… However I know you shall find the way to bring this traitor most foul to the end she deserves.”
I remember the tears of a great pain rushing to my eyes, but I held them back as is the way of a true leader. I rested my hoof upon our liege’s forehead. It burned like the fires of hell itself.
“I’m afraid you are prey to a most terrible fever,” I said. “It has corrupted your senses, and made you lose hope in survival. Once in my past travels I came upon the old witch of Smithwood, who told me this affliction could be rid of by resting in a peaceful place. I urge you to follow her words, for they are of great wisdom.”
Our liege looked at me, and her eyes were filled with a sorrow only evil the likes of Diamond Tiara could instill.
“Apple Bloom, my most brave and faithful subject, there is naught that can save me now from the grasp of Death.”
In that moment I felt rage well up in my body like a fever in itself. “Nay!” I bellowed. “This treacherous crime shall not go unpunished! O why must this have befallen you, my sweet liege? We had only just arrived, ready to stand on a battlefield against the world, but it seems the war was to take place amongst ourselves, for we failed to see the cruel intentions lurking in the unseen darkness of the traitor and bully Diamond Tiara! But fear not, my good liege, for Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle shall be with us promptly, accompanied by the coward herself. Upon facing the might of our wrath, she shall surrender at once! Boy howdy!”
And providence be, for what should happen in that precise moment? The door to our keep swung open. Therein stood my comrades, Lady Sweetie Belle of Carousella and Lady Scootaloo of Chickingham. They had brought with them the one whose arrival I eagerly awaited.
The foul beast herself stood there, grinning as though victory had been hers already. I could see a shimmering, nefarious halo of air all around her, the mark of either her fundamental malice, or proof that she did not wash nearly as much as she claimed to.
The air in our fortress grew cold and fearful, but it would not blow out the fire of our resolve. I sat down at my desk, my eyes never leaving the enemy’s own. The three arrivants stepped forward, and on a chair in front of the desk, the traitor took her place.
“I trust you have confiscated her weapon?” I asked my friends.
“Indeed, most brave and courageous leader,” replied Scootaloo.
“Very well,” I said. “Let us begin.”
To my great displeasure I turned to face the enemy. She was so yellow she could not face me with proper respect deserving of more noble persons. Instead, I saw her stare at a corner, in which we had prepared a prison for us to keep her in. She studied it with those slitted pupils of hers, a wily, unhealthy smile upon her face.
“How quaint,” she said. Her voice was low and eerily calm. I cannot deny that it sent a shiver down my spine.
“You will have all the time in the world to be further acquainted with your new home later,” I said with regained composure, “as you meditate on what your poisonous deeds will have cost you.”
The traitor met my gaze with her own. There was a most unpleasant silence during which we stared into each other’s souls.
“Is your company not here? I did not see them sleeping at the foot of the tree when I arrived.”
“They are in a safe place,” I said. I had strategically hidden them from view for the night, where they would not be found.
The traitor shrugged.
“A pity,” she said. “It was my understanding that the flock of sheep never leaves the poor shepherd’s side.”
Behind her I saw the faces of my two friends frown in anger. It was fortunate that I was not so easily swayed by such an obvious attempt to blind me with rage by this mean, spoiled no-good bully who is so ugly it makes my brain hurt.
“Where is your company, then?” I asked, although immediately I regretted as it was obvious she would not fall for her own trick. But to my surprise, she was so stupid that she actually did.
“They are all washing away the strife of the day’s events in comfortable beds adorned with pillows made from goose feathers.”
She leaned in a little closer to my desk.
“One can afford such luxuries, when one’s daddy can afford more than a simple treehouse,” she spat.
I was infuriated, ‘twas true, but I would not yield.
“Enough,” I said. “Let us not stray from the true purpose of our meeting.” It was my turn to lean forward. “We are here to discuss your punishment for the vile deed you must account for.”
As I spoke thusly I pointed my hoof towards the place where our fallen leader still lay. The traitor looked in her direction, and I was delighted to see a flicker of weakness upon the coward’s face. Was it fear? Remorse? I saw our leader return a weak and compassionate smile to her cowardly assailant.
“See how she has the kindness of heart to forgive you, you slime,” I said. “I’m afraid I shall not prove so noble, for I act as her vengeful hoof.”
Slowly the traitor’s eyes shifted towards me, and within them I saw the green fires of hatred and malice.
“Let me ask you a very simple question, traitor,” I said. “The war which ravages our kind is a cold one. Our clans have yet to strike the first blow against one another. I can guarantee you that when that time comes, your company of the weak and the spineless will be submerged by the tide of our just retribution.”
The traitor gave me a single, haughty chuckle.
“But there is a way for you to avoid this,” I continued. “If you have the slightest sliver of pride, for the sake of those who have brought their doom upon themselves by siding with you, I suggest you surrender to us immediately.”
A powerful silence ensued. Tension was rife in the air, and all of us could feel the weight of the decision that would be made. We were now at a crossroads of fate, upon which hinged the present moment.
“I shall not yield to you,” half-whispered the traitor.
The words, though spoken softly, came as a blow to us. It was the realisation that we were to brace ourselves for battle.
“You will inflict this storm upon your allies?” I asked. I had to be sure.
“Yes,” she answered in a calm, matter-of-fact way that was just so annoying.
“Very well,” I said, and resumed planning for battle, which I had hoped would prove unnecessary. After a few seconds I saw that the traitor had not left her place.
“You may leave,” I said, in an exasperation I could not feign.
“Before I do,” she replied, “I should like to let you know of my further proceedings.”
This came as quite a surprise to me, and no doubt to my friends as well, for I saw their eyebrows raise.
“Why?” I asked after a short while. The traitor shrugged again.
“A gesture of goodwill?” she replied.
I admit I was puzzled, but I let her continue. She made her treacherous self comfortable in her chair before resuming.
“Have you ever read ‘The Art of War’, by Sun Burn?” she said. I had no time to reply before she giggled and said “Of course you haven’t, what a silly question. Please forgive me.”
Had I not been my poised and collected leaderly self, I would have had her thrown out of the window posthaste. But still I let her spew her venomous words at me, for she had sparked my curiosity.
“It is a memoir,” she continued, “written by a pony named Sun Burn, a great pony and military leader in ancient China. It’s a fascinating read, really. It helps one understand why the wars that took place in Neighsia at the time were so much more grandiose than the more recent ones that have taken place closer to home.
“The genius of Sun Burn was that he led very clean wars that often proved successful, despite there being relatively small bloodshed. He believed that land should always be kept intact for the taking. You see, Sun Burn was quite the farsighted fellow who made surprisingly little planning for his battles. He knew that planning works in a controlled environment, but ultimately fails when competing elements collide, when the environment shifts and changes and creates unexpected situations to which one must readily adapt.”
The traitor finally got up from her seat. Immediately my two aids took a step forward, as a measure of precaution, but I had them stop in their tracks.
“I warn you not to forget where we stand.” she said. “The Everfree forest. The most unstable environment there is. Surely you are aware that not a week ago, your own sister was nearly done away with by an opponent… even though they were a good friend of both her and yourself?”
I said nothing. I had received word of that incident, of course.
“They say it was the woods themselves that drove the attacker mad,” said the traitor. She chuckled. “It would be a shame if something unexpected were to rain on all your precious planning.”
I looked at her and saw a foul grin on her fat face. I would not let her bruise me with these words.
“There is a natural influence on all things,” I said. “I believe those who seek selfless justice are always met with a helping hand.”
The cowardly traitor shrugged and grinned yet again.
“I have to admire such words of bravery. Even when they are spoken with a peasant southern drawl. Good night, commander.”
She turned her slimy back on me and calmly walked towards the door. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle followed her, to escort her to a safe distance out in the woods where she would be unable to do any of her usual sneakiness against our fort.
The door closed, and so did the book on these fateful negotiations. I was left by myself to ponder on events that were yet to come, as I watched the candle’s flame batter and struggle against the cold of the night.
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My little pony to my little soldiers.....
Welcome back.
EDIT: Way to dramatise. Did it really happen that way or was Sweetie Belle just exaggerating?
Congrats on the feature!
You, sir, are damn good.
Rated everyone?
Sounds more teen rated.
Its alive alive i tell you good to see this story isnt dead
Wow Applebloom is dramatic ain't she? My question is, why did they let Diamond Tiara go? They should have shot her and put in the cell they made for her.
That's some serious writing right there. I applaud you on the amount of effort that may (or may not) have taken.
3649459
Maybe on the edge of the line... but there IS swearing.
'Everyone,' huh? That's not to say it isn't hilarious, because it most certainly is.
3650059
It ain't G if it's cursing.
It's not that bad, but "motherbucker" is pushing it.
3650067
I'd say a teen rating is indeed in order, but I'm loving it. A random story with enough of the ludicrous 'paintball war is real war' to keep me laughing. Though I pity Lyra and Bon Bon. They got owned pretty hard. (I guess 'Tavi and Vinyl too... as much as I hate giving Rarity credit, that was clever.)
Thanks to everyone for your kind comments!
Especially if you've been following this since before I put it on hiatus for almost a year. I suck.
3648782 One question though... did I actually get featured?
coz I saw your comment, and I've seen all the notifications and all that good shit but I haven't seen it featured myself. I guess it must have been in the box for a short period while I was sleeping, because in France nighttime is pretty much during the American daytime and the other way around. If I did, then you all rule 
There's never enough
. Have another: 
...
3650059>>3649459 Actually I don't really see the point of differentiating between 'teen' and 'everyone', since we're all pretty much teen and older. The rating I put is just to let people know it's SFW.
3649903
So much this. Who is going to be the jerk that uses a hot gun on .40g ammo?
3650698
Teen is SFW too. What's the harm?
Applebloom's diary may just be one of the greatest things i've ever read.
I can imagine her twisting the events in her head exactly like this, and her snide comments to DT are perfect
3649903 This. This must happen. This needs to be. Definitely. Wisher, this next. It's a must.
Love the bit with AB´s diary. And soon they shall face a civil war among their group.
I thought the chapter with Discord was the best but this is even more awesome.
Holy Shit! Apple Bloom's diary had me rolling on the floor.
3649937 That, my dear comrade, would be dishonorable, and against the laws of war. if they were to have shot Tiara unarmed, then it may have caused deeper civil war. After all, if Applejack is anything to go by, then Apple Bloom knows what she's doing.
The dissonance in Apple Bloom's diary is quite funny. Mixing stereotypical ye olde English with the occasional modern terminology was brilliant.
...Um.
Yeah. I'm not even going to TRY and make a good comment on THIS chapter.
...Good chapter, by the way.
~Skeeter The Lurker
Well. I did like how Apple Bloom pretty much made every part of the memoir somewhat inaccurate, or overly dramatized.
3699695 Oh my, did you hurt yourself falling from your chair like that?
3648777
Its Applebloom.
What I don't get is why those ponies who don't want to play don't just break Celestia's rules and leave. I mean, Fluttershy could have just flown above tree level and been able to leave, and any unicorn could just teleport. Once they've broken the rules, they're out and the Everfree can release its hold on them.
On a "slightly less eccentric" note...
Celestia is Brokenstar!!! She's making kits- err, foals- go to war with one another!!! I always knew she was evil!!!