• Published 18th Jan 2012
  • 6,694 Views, 320 Comments

Fallout Equestria: The Ditzy Doo Chronicles - Ten Mihara

200 Years is a long time. It's time to tell my side of the story.

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Interlude 2: Shadows of Society

Interlude 2: Shadows of Society


Ponies had been driven to the brink of extinction by the war, megaspells and the aftereffects thereof. However, if there's one thing I've learned in my travels it would be this: ponies are stubborn. The population of the Equestrian Wasteland was a small fraction of what the land had known before being wiped clean in the holocaust. However, we ponies refused to fade out. Despite how little there was, we struggled and fought, scavenged and searched, and clung to the hope that things might get better. It took ponies a while to realize that things could never go back to the way they had been before.

It is interesting to note that, even when separated by time and distance, ponies tend to develop in similar fashions. Perhaps the most prominent example of this is the faith in the Goddesses Celestia and Luna. Both the ponies on the surface and underground, cut off from the former Princesses, saw their histories and legends become myth. Celestia and Luna transcended their status as the rulers of our land, to become benevolent deities that looked down on us all from afar (As I'm sure you've all heard by now, this is at least half true).

On the more down to Equestria side of things, the ponies that now inhabited the surface tried to reestablish more concrete aspects of the old society. Small new villages began cropping up in places like Manehattan, Prance, Fillydelphia, and even the necropolis of Trottingham began to grow as word spread that it was a safe place for ghouls. However, their populations were not able to thrive, as many things were still scarce, and only those with skills, courage or luck were willing and able to venture into the dangerous and tainted places in the wasteland that were yet untapped. Such things were often a draw for the Ex-Talon Canterlot ghoul, who never stayed in Trottingham for any long period of time.

As the demand for both goods and services grew with the population (swelled by both determined breeding and the resurgence of a number of Stable ponies), another aspect of prewar society reared its head: economy. A medium of exchange was needed to make such ventures worthwhile for both parties. At first, ponies from the Stables brought pre-war gold coins into the picture, but there were problems. The pre-war gold coins, aside from no longer having a government backing them, were more useful elsewhere. The gold could be melted down, used to repair electronics, and I even met one strange mercenary who used them to make ammunition for shotguns.

So, with the old currency no longer desirable as currency, a new intermediary was needed. Something readily available, easy to obtain, difficult to duplicate and present in sufficient quantities to provide reasonable comparisons of value. The solution once again seemed to develop in a number of different places at the same time: bottle caps (both Sparkle~Cola and Sunrise Sarsaparilla were deemed valid). When the news reached Trottingham, I had a good laugh, simply because May's old collection, along with the stores of Sparkle~Cola at the Watering Hole, gave Trottingham a decent initial treasury.

Trottingham didn't do that much trading with the rest of the wasteland, mainly because most ponies were wary of a town full of ghouls. Some thought they could take advantage of a town full of 'mindless shambling zomibes', but they quickly learned otherwise thanks to Rottingtail and his local militia. However, some of the braver investors saw the potential of trading with our little necropolis, particularly because we had a functioning water talisman from Stable Twelve. Pure water was still the most sought after commodity in the Equestrian Wasteland (and made for much better muffin batter), followed closely by food, then weapons and ammunition. The wasteland was a dangerous place after all.

Sadly, that danger didn't just stem from wild beasts, feral ghouls and other irradiated death traps of the wasteland. No, it is quite unfortunate that one of the greatest threats of the Equestrian Wasteland was other ponies. Despite the examples led by good ponies like the Iron Mare, the Lone Stallion, the Stalliongrad Seven and other notable heroes, so many ponies turned to banditry and barbarism as a means of life. Too many placed their own needs above those of all ponies, seeing the food, water and other supplies carried by others as being more valuable than the ponies that carried them. Seeing the lives of a select few ponies as more important than all of the others.

The worst of the worst were the raiders. DJ P0N-3 started calling them that, as the first major bands of these brutal, sick, and often psychotic ponies came from the progeny of Raider and his group out of Ponyville. I was heartbroken when I first heard that the town that had once been my home had become such a depraved place, filled with some of the worst the wasteland had to offer. It was made all the worse knowing that Stronghoof's attempt to save the town had failed so completely. I continued to use his rifle in my travels, hoping that the small piece of him continuing to serve worthy causes would let his soul rest a little easier. I even fitted it with a custom bolt to make it fire more smoothly for me.

May and I ended up staying in Trottingham with Rottingtail for most of the decades that followed our coming to the town. Despite the initial hardships, May was able to make excellent use of Doctor Fixit's in depth study of the ghoul condition and the ghoulification process. While she was not able to get any closer to a cure, she was able to, through a combination of radiation treatments, custom tailored healing spells and counciling, greatly improve both the physical and mental well being of many ghouls that came to our little necropolis. She was even able to patch up Rottingtail's bad leg, regrowing some of its flesh. While it remained as crippled as it had always been, he no long had to worry about it potentially falling off.

Rottingtail and I grew closer during my years in Torttingham. He was a fair gentlecolt, and had true affection towards me. I also had a good deal of respect for the concern he held for other ghouls, even if he was occasionally colder to regular ponies (I'd be lying if I said I'd never felt at least a little resentful myself). I'll say no more about that though, as I'm sure most of you reading this wouldn't have any particular interest in the... preferences of a ghoul pony such as myself.

I didn't spend the entirety of those forty years in Trottingham. Using some of the skill from my old line of work, I often went along with merchant caravans to help with the bartering. I also sometimes joined the guards of those caravans, or scavenging parties that went looking for other resources that the town could use or sell. I even took my meager tailoring skills to a new level when another ghoul merchant taught me how to craft and reinforce armour. It was almost like I had a normal life again, at least as far as one could be had in the wasteland.

It was never easy, as there were still plenty of groups who couldn't be bothered to distinguish between us and our feral kin, and others who wanted to see us all exterminated because they viewed us as monsters or abominations. Sadly, most Steel Rangers fall into this category, although Gizmo seemed to keep to his promise to keep them out of Trottingham for a good long while. When it came to anypony else, Rottingtail's militia was enough to keep us safe from outside threats.

Trottingham itself grew up quite nicely, setting itself up as both a trading town and a settlement where ghouls did not have to fear persecution. However, that's not to say that we didn't have our own share of problems.

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