I see Fire
A Space Marine Strike Cruiser was an impressive construct. Though nowhere near as monstrously vast as their larger kin, the infamous Battle Barges, the vast majority were still larger and more cavernous than many cities of man, as well as considerably sturdier. Even shorn in twain by the warships of the XV Legion, and laid cracked and low in the Equestrian countryside, the Olympian Sun remained a fearsome vision of iron, black and yellow-a rough and unavoidable scar torn clean in the otherwise idyllic landscape.
For all that, the once-proud vessel of the Legiones Astartes remained quiet and desolate. Few even of the mortal wretches that slaved within it remained, and those that did were not enough to populate the array of quarters and lower decks afforded to them that now lay silent. Of the ship’s dread masters, there were even fewer-of the companies’ worth that had once called the vessel home, perhaps 15 still remained. Even the dourest of the infamously grim Iron Warriors could almost see the funny side of their situation.
After they had been allowed entranced back into their craft, and inventory of their armoury was meticulously taken, the first thing the Chaos Marines had done was scavenge what they could from the few of their brother’s bodies that remained more or less intact. There was scant love lost between the warriors, either living or dead, but they still buried the fallen as best they could. An Iron Warrior deserved no less. Few of the now-abandoned quarters had been moved into-or even entered-and so the Astartes spent most of their time either in their own meagre cells, grudgingly lurking around the Xenos settlement in the hope of scoring some amusement, or congregating with their remaining brothers in a limited selection of chambers and halls.
It was one of these halls that played host to a brotherhood now. Rain, heavy and constant, lashed the land and pattered off the roof from the Cruiser, matched only by the howling winds. The Ponies had for the most part chosen to remain inside, and the Iron Warriors had done much the same, six of them congregating within what had once been an eating chamber. In other Legions such a gathering could be fraternal and boisterous affair, but even at the height of their strength the Iron Warriors had disdained such joviality. The assembly now was a subdued one; many sat fastidiously stooped over armour or weaponry, leaning and checking he only things in the galaxy they trusted. Others were engaged in murmured and uncharacteristically idle discussion, recounting both victories past and countless, bitter setbacks. Sequested at a table alone was Mordecai; the sorcerer, for once, did not try to force pleasantries upon his kin, but sat engrossed in some old tome looted from the wreckage of an Imperial world. Besides the hum of power packs, and the occasional low chatter of voices, the room was near silent.
That silence was shattered by the arrival of a seventh.
The doors’ pistons and gears wrenched open as Zuko thundered his way in, tramp of his armoured boots reminiscent of a hammer striking stone. He had made his way to Mordecai’s table almost before the other Astartes had even registered his presence, slamming down the Crystal Heart that he had still kept clutched in his power fist unceremoniously onto the metal surface. His left arm had long since stopped bleeding, but the stump still hung their uselessly. The few sources of light that remained glinted off his ceramite armour. Red eyes set within his horned helmet glared unblinkingly at Mordecai, wilfully ignorant of the attention his wound garnered from his other brothers. The Psyker placed his book carefully beside his helmet, eyes locked with the sergeant’s. Zuko saw them flicker down to the Crystal construct, then to his arm, and eventually back to meet his own.
It was Zuko that broke eye contact, turning to leave the room without word or grace. He heard the sorcerer behind him push back his chair and rise, moving to catch up with the retreating Astartes. A hand brushed his pauldron.
“Brother, what the dickens happened to your ar-“
The manoeuvre was swift and efficient, a counter-clockwise pirouette that delivered the swinging right hook straight into the psyker’s face. Zuko managed to remain composed enough to leave the weapon’s power field de-energised, but the punch was still barely pulled. Mordecai was knocked clean onto his face, head snapping to the side at an almost sickening angle as he landed at Zuko’s feet. The Iron Warrior lunged to strike the downed Astartes again, but before he could land a blow hands grasped his shoulders, cape and arm, restraining the murderous sergeant. He was dragged back, head forced down as a knee was catapulted into his midsection.
“It’s quite alright, gentlemen.” Mordecai’s voice was only slightly shaken as he rose to one knee, head bowed as he rubbed his chin. “I rather think I deserved that one.” Regaining his full height, he made a gesture. Telekinetic force wrapped around his helmet, levitating it towards him. He took it from the air and clasped it back over his head with a hiss of pressure. As he looked back to Zuko, some of the grip on the Iron Warrior was loosened-though they did not let him go.
“Lorkhan may have the skills to use that blasted heart.” Zuko began, the eyes of his helmet seeming to burn from more than their red tint. “But he would never have got the idea himself. He would never have known anything of how to use it, that’s far too esoteric for him. This whole plan, this whole bastarding plan was your idea, Mordecai.” He strained again, edging forward in his brothers’ hold. His helmet was centimetres away from Mordecai’s. “It was you all along.”
The sorcerer sighed, seeming to be genuinely remorseful as he shook his head. “A severe assessment, dear brother.” He admitted. “I have done nothing the Warsmith has not requested, nor anything our Legion would not expect from its sons.”
“You knew all along.” Zuko went on, panting hard. “It was you that convinced us to stay here in the first place, it was your idea to fraternise with the ponies…and all along, you knew what we were going to have to do. Why? What’s the angle here, you bastard?”
Mordecai did not reply for a moment. “We are already Traitors, Sergeant Zuko.” He said at last, softly for a Space Marine whilst also ignoring the question. “What harm could one more broken oath do?”
“And the Crusaders?” Zuko hissed. The Iron Warriors that held him looked to one another and broke out in mutters at his use of the term, but he was unrepentant. “Did you plan for them to be there too?”
At that, Mordecai looked away. “That was…regrettable.” He said mournfully. “I had not anticipated there prescience when I suggested you for the mission. If I had any inkling at the time, brother, I would not have encouraged you to grow closer to them.” He nodded, the gesture indicating the other Marines to relinquish their grip on Zuko. The Iron Warrior straightened, and though the hate was still clear in his posture, he did not attack. “I can only apologise for having besmirched your honour, my brother.” The sorcerer went on, looking at him again. “But for us all, the Legion is above all.”
“The Legion…” Zuko almost scoffed, turning to push past his brothers. “The Legion is dead, brother.” He began to walk, his steps as loud as when he entered.
“When the Warsmith returns I will petition him to tend to your arm, brother.” Mordecai called. Zuko stopped as he left the room, although he did not look round.
“You all have your prize.” He said sullenly, as the doors began to close behind him. “I hope you choke on it.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Somewhere, something had gone terribly wrong.
Twilight knew the Princesses must feel it too. There was no way they couldn’t have-it had practically ripped her into wakefulness, the sounds of voices crying out before being lost. She’d never experienced any sort of sympathetic magic before, but recognised that that was indeed what it must be. Where once the new experience would have excited her, now it just tightened the knot in the purple unicorn’s gut more.
She knew she’d been retreating in on herself more, even though she’d promised her friends she would not. It pained her to break that promise, but Twilight didn’t see any choice if Equestria was to have any hope of surviving the Iron Warriors. Hope was her motivation now, hope her god-even if she’d never believed in any sort of deity. It had meant isolating herself once more, despite what she’d promised Spike and the other Element Bearers, but Twilight knew they would understand. They had to understand; couldn’t they see how vital it was? Well, maybe they couldn’t…she’d seen the way some of them, Rarity and Fluttershy chiefly, had begun to act around the Iron Warriors. It smacked too much of softening and loss of control for Twilight, and at one point it had even occurred to her that the others might be starting to side with the Space Marines over their own kind. She’d dismissed it as preposterous, but the thought would not quite die, lodged up there amongst all the other paranoid delusions that now made residence within her head.
She had noticed something else, as the hours warped into days in a never-ending cycle; the quiet chattering from within her own mind. At first the sensation scared her, and she worried she really was going mad, but over time she’d come to realise that the whispers were hardly demonic. The voices, if she really concentrated, did naught more than guide and inspire the unicorn in her quest to understand what was going on. New magical theories and possibilities, and infinite vista of ploy and counter ploy, had begun to blossom within the unicorns brain. The deeper she went into her studies, and the more she paid heed to the murmuring within her head, the more Twilight began to feel like hope was more than an abstract concept. It was real, tangible, and she could be both arbitrator and deliverer. If her friends did not understand that, then…she would just have to do this without them.
More of the strange, serpentine eye runes had been marked onto the walls of her study by the unicorn. It was once more at the behest of the whispers, and though Twilight had at first been nervous about them, their presence had led to a palpable increase in both the magical energy in the air, and her own aethyric attunement. They covered most of one wall and parts of the others, staring out at her unblinkingly from all angles.
It was their aid she needed now. The table had been overturned at the far side of the room, Twilight facing it as if they were two stallions about to engage in an honourable, gentlemanly duel. She knew the blasts of purple energy from her horn were strong, and had even managed to make one of the Space Marines stumble, but if the worst came to the worst-and for Twilight, that was always a possibility to consider-it wouldn’t be enough. She needed something stronger, something with bite, and to that end she had delved into parts of magic few had visited before. Through her efforts, she thought she had come up with just the spell.
Twilight screwed her eyes closed as the pressure within her head started to build. The muscles in her body began to at first ache, but soon heightened to a wild burning sensation as she tried to channel more energy into the spell, and staying upright soon became a herculean task within itself. She refused to relent, gritting her teeth and trying to ignore the pained tear rolling down her cheek as her horn began to flicker with power. The voices within her head were an indecipherable roar now, tying tight knots around her brain and eliciting moans that would have ashamed Twilight in any other circumstance.
Eventually, the bolt of coruscating energy blasted from the tip of her horn with fearsome force, pitching the young unicorn over onto her back. Twilight stared blankly at the ceiling, her vision distorted by flashing lights every colour of the spectrum; her panting was heavy and pronounced, limbs spasming whilst her tortured brain felt like some sharp, invisible tendril probed it.
Eventually, she was able to reassert some sense of self, and Twilight managed to roll onto her front and prop herself up with her forehooves. She stared wide-eyed at the ground for several agonising minutes, letting the last of the tingling sensation from her spell fade from her extremities. Slowly, she turned to look at what she had done.
The table was utterly consumed, lost under a roiling tide of burning magic. She trotted over to it slowly, a little in awe of what she had accomplished. It was clear that this was no ordinary fire-much of the table remained, occasionally giving a worrying pulse, but somehow Twilight knew that it was burned right to the core. The flames did not seem to be in the process of burning themselves out, in any case, continuing to spread and almost multiply. Though it was her first exposure, Twilight was pretty confident that they could burn through anything; wood, metal…
…Power Armour.
She frowned, head still ringing and screaming as she looked up. The hundreds of eyes she had marked on the wall still stared at her, yet almost seemed to…writhe in place, burning with their own light and flame in response to her magical outburst. From every angle they watched, yet as she turned in place to look at them all with a rapidly hammering heart, Twilight’s concern was replaced with the descent of what almost felt like a fugue state across her mind. She cast a quick glance back to the flickering fire, frown melting away into an understated but satisfied grin. As she stared back at the eyes, she even managed a demure, feminine giggle.
Let the Iron Warriors have their hatred and their steel. If and when they tried anything, Twilight Sparkle would be ready for them.
----------------------------------------------------------------
“Now now, just hold still darling, I’m almost done.”
It was not in Mordecai’s nature to be a difficult, or even worse, ungracious guest. Yet, even as the holder of the less than prestigious title of most agreeable Iron Warrior in the galaxy, there were limits to what the sorcerer would reasonably tolerate. Being tended to by Rarity, like a child whose mother had to clean him up after he’d thrown food down himself, fell just outside those limits.
“I do not mean to be confrontational, my lady, but I scarcely think this necessary.” He implored, fortunately unable to flinch as she levitated the cool, wet cloth to dab against his chin again. The bruise left by Zuko’s punch was already near-invisible, testament to the rapid healing his Astartes’ form was capable of, but even so it had not escaped the eye for detail a stringent seamstress such as Rarity possessed. No sooner had he entered the boutique and removed his helmet, as had become customary, she had spotted it and immediately proceeded to fuss over him inordinately.
“Oh come along dear,” the Unicorn said, sticking her tongue out to concentrate as she leaned a little closer. “Just because those ruffians you choose to surround yourself with are so frightfully uncivilised does not mean we right-thinking Equestrians have to be the same.” She leaned back, smiling as she adjusted the pointed red glasses seated snugly above her muzzle. Mordecai nodded as courteously as he could muster as she dropped the frilled cloth, leaning over to reaffix his horned helmet. His own crimson eye lenses flickered into life, targeting reticules and streams of information ticking their way across his retina.
“I would entreat you not to blame my brother for his…lack of tact in the heat of the moment.” Mordecai remarked, though there was no malice in his words. “I am inclined to believe he was…rather justified in his emotional outburst. Though, I must confess that privately, I do worry that the Champion is becoming rather increasingly divorced from the ideology of the Legion he was created to serve.”
She frowned slightly, and Mordecai reflected that after all this time the Space Marines were still an enigma for the vast majority of Ponies. Rarity was polite enough to not comment on the strangeness of his words, instead merely smiling and beginning to trot through to her boutique’s living quarters. Mordecai followed, hands clasped behind his back as he wandered after her. Leaving her glasses on a kitchen counter, Rarity propped herself onto her hind legs and began to stir up a pot of tea. The Iron Warrior remained a few steps behind, casting an idle eye out the window. The onset of the planet’s autumn had begun to become apparent; golden and orange leaves slowly flaked down from the dead branches of trees to settle on the ground, carried by the crisp air.
“Well, I for one am glad you agreed to my offer of tea, darling.” The pony said, not looking up from her efforts. “It’s been so dreadfully quiet around town recently, what with Twilight keeping to herself and even Rainbow and Applejack gallivanting off on that day-trip with some of your friends last week. Why, sometimes I even find myself missing Sweetie Belle and her little friends.” She sighed, closing her eyes as she paused momentarily. The two mugs sat before her, steaming. “I may have my…differences with her sometimes, but I’ve not heard a peep since she and the other Crusaders went off to that camp with school.” Her brow furrowed, looking up through the window. “Come to think of it, she wouldn’t even tell me where exactly it was…”
Over the course of his life as an Iron Warrior, some 10’000 years or so in ‘real time’, Mordecai had only occasionally felt the tiniest tremors of what he assumed must be fear. Yet now, safely within the confines of his helmet, he allowed himself to grimace, swallowing hard at her words.
“I am confident that the reason for the comparative silence of the little one’s is naught more than them being simply rushed off their feet…hooves.” He corrected, trying his best to sound innocent through the vox-growl provided by his helmet. Rarity smiled again, nodding, and levitated his cup over to the Psyker.
“I am sure you are right, of course.” She conceded, leaning back on her chair and giving another contented sigh as she breathed in the vapours emanating from her drink. She took a delicate sip, though Mordecai merely held his own cup. “And besides, it has allowed me to catch up on my own backlog of orders. With all the new autumn styles coming in, I am simply rushed off my hooves these days.”
“I am sure you will rise to the task admirably, madam.” Mordecai replied diplomatically. Rarity took another sip, cocking her head to the side.
“Oh forgive me Mordecai dear, I hate to be rude, but I confess there has been some…talk.” She said, choosing her words carefully. “You and your kin have been…how can I put this…scarce as of late. To tell you the truth, we’d all been getting quite used to seeing you around as of late.” She chewed her bottom lip apprehensively, clearly still worried about provoking the Astartes – even one as seemingly tame as Mordecai.
He was indeed silent for a few agonising minutes, red eyes glaring at her emotionlessly. Then he chuckled, setting his own cup down on the table.
“I suppose we have become a bit of a fixture, haven’t we?” he said, inclining his head towards her. “Hard to imagine that but a few months past, we were jolly well ready to knock the seven hells out of one another.” It was his turn to sigh, turning to look back outside as he folded his arms. “It is true that much of the company has been rather more…reclusive lately. My Lord Warsmith has become increasingly reliant upon a sense of kinship…with whomever is willing to provide it, I fear.”
She could not help scowling as he mentioned the Warsmith. “Why?” she asked. “That Lorkhan of yours seems to be perfectly in control of you all.” She practically spat the words, unable – or not bothering – to keep the spite from her tone.
“My lord…does not like to be alone.” The Psyker explained. “Except when he is working. It gives him too much opportunity to think on things…things he would rather forget, I presume.”
“But why?” she asked, sounding more intrigued than angry now. “You are all so…well, forgive me, but so imposing. I struggle to believe that any of you could suffer from such mental trauma as you imply.”
Mordecai took another deep breath, still looking out the window. “Do you recall me telling you of the Horus Heresy?” She grimaced, nodding dourly.
“That terrible war? Yes, it sounds dreadful, but you say it is that which bothers your master? I still find that…difficult to believe. ”
“During the war itself, we committed based on the solid assumption that we would be victorious.” He explained. “I do not believe there was a single Astartes that wore the Iron armour of Olympia that seriously considered any scenario that would occur were we to lose.” He steepled his fingers resting them on his chin. “When we were indeed defeated, and forced to flee, it sent a shockwave through the Legion. Every Iron Warrior, from the most favoured Warsmith to the lowliest neophyte, was forced to respond to our new situation in their own manner. I elected to dedicate my life in service to both the Primarch as I ever had, but also the new powers that shaped our brotherhood’s destiny, even if the majority of the fourth refused to even admit their existence. Others, such as Zuko, chose to live in denial; pretending to fight as if we had never lost the war and were still at the height of our former glory.”
“And…Lorkhan?” She asked tentatively. “How did he react?” Mordecai grimaced again, leaning back slightly as he considered his next words.
“To be coarse…my lord Warsmith reacted by going utterly mad.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hush now quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy head. Hush now quiet now it’s time to go to bed…”
Fluttershy’s gentle voice carried through the still night air as she rocked the small animal back and forth in her hooves. Her wings flapped with equal placidness as she hovered slightly above the grass, and Lorkhan couldn’t quite see how she was able to move laterally with them in their current position. Yet, somehow she was, and Fluttershy was able to lower the tiny rabbit down into the hutch with the briefest kiss on the forehead. It joined the six or so previously placed ub there, already beginning to doze softly. That left just one loose.
The Warsmith looked back down to the animal in question. Most small creatures fled at the side of the lord of the Iron Warriors, with his gargoyle-shaped backpack, skull helmet and snapping mecha-tendrils, yet this one merely stared up at him with large, idiot eyes. It put Lorkhan in mind of Rorke, though he couldn’t quite work out what it was.
“Right then.” He began, still staring at the animal. It stared back. “Okay. Let’s be reasonable. I don’t like you, and I’m fairly confident you aren’t that keen on me. But we both want to be removed from this awkwardness, so in the spirit of mutual co-operation, can we try and put aside our differences for just a few minutes?”
It galled him to be reduced to this, a once-proud Iron Warrior asking a juvenile rabbit to put aside their differences. What made it worse was that the rabbit seemed to ignore him. It was fast; fortunately he was faster. His gauntleted hand shot out and grabbed it by the scruff of the neck as it tried to escape, lifting the kicking and squealing little rick into the air. With a supreme force of willpower, Lorkhan was able to stop himself from crushing its skull, and dropped it in the box with its compatriots. As one the animals backed away from him, little bodies shivering in fright.
“Oh my, umm…I don’t want to offend you, but…c-could you maybe try not to scare the little ones please?” Fluttershy asked him, bottom lip trembling slightly. She sounded flustered as always, but there was also noticeably more backbone in her voice – more than there had been the first time she talked to Lorkhan, anyway. It grudgingly impressed him enough to allow her to pass the comment without reprisal, though he still didn’t look at her.
“Warsmiths of the IV Legion do not help put baby rabbits to sleep.” He reminded her. He ignored the murmur of apparently they do as it passed through his head, trying to ignore the reddening of nervous Fluttershy’s cheeks.
They stood (or hovered) side by side for a few moments, Fluttershy with a quietly concerned expression on her face, Lorkhan emotionless as he leaned on his axe. It was the pony, surprisingly enough, that eventually broke the silence. “T-thank you for building the hutch, Lorkhan.” She said, voice barely above a whisper. The Warsmith did not reply immediately, looking down at his creation. Much like the birdhouse that had come before it, it looked more like a military installation than a dwelling for animals, but despite that it was still fit for purpose.
“I was bored.” The Iron Warrior snapped defensively. That wasn’t entirely true; he had indeed had something to do. He just hadn’t wanted to do it.
“Well, um…i-it was…nice, anyway. Y-you didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t.” he agreed, without emotion. Calling upon the mental exercises drilled into him to help him forget, the Iron Warrior was able to ignore the disheartened look from Fluttershy burning into his side…more or less. They relapsed back into a grudgingly companionable silence, only the occasional whistle from the wind breaking it. “You have something to say.” Lorkhan said at last, still not looking at the pony. He heard Fluttershy gulp, and nod her head.
“Are we friends?”
The question was so sudden, so shyly spoken yet out of the blue, that it actually attracted his attention. Lorkhan turned, Fluttershy’s eyes widening as they met his. Her ears folded against the top of her head, and she floated back slightly as he continued to stare mutely at her. Then, a harsh gurgling sound began to emanate from the back of his throat, making the Warsmith’s body shudder slightly. It took her a moment to realise Lorkhan was sniggering.
“Okay, maybe not friends.” She giggled, relaxing slightly. “But…you’re not that mean to me. In fact, I’d say you actually treat me pretty nicely, compared to your…um…friends.” She paused, awkwardness making her blush. “A-and you’ve come to see me a few times, to make me things…that was nice as well.” She smiled at him, brushing a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “Sometimes I…I think you guys are awful, just awful…but others, you’re actually not that bad…” She shied away slightly, as if suddenly worrying whether she had offended the towering Warsmith.
He watched her for a few moments more, Mechantendrils hanging back and staying close to his silver plate. When he spoke, it was his turn to pull something out of the air.
“Would it surprise you to know that the Iron Warriors have a concept of beauty?”
Only the briefest hint of melancholy touched his voice, but it was enough to attract her full attention. From the soft intake of breath, and the way she tilted her head told him it did. “Maybe not in the way Guilliman, or Sanguinius’ Legions enjoyed fine art or polishing their armour. But aye, in an artillery barrage delivered in perfect crescendo, or an enemy buried in their own trenches by precise bombardment and displacement of earth, there was beauty in that.”
She edged closer to him, clearly intrigued by even this slight opening up. “All I mean is, we take pride in seeing a job through to the end. We built your house back up from where we had torn it down; I wanted to see it done right.” He said, quicker than he expected.
“And…it feels good to create again.” He added, in little more than a murmur.
Space Marines were trained to know no fear, but Lorkhan could not stop himself from flinching as she wrapped her hooves around his neck. It was the swiftest of embraces, over in seconds, but Fluttershy had still noticeably reddened as he turned to look at her with as much bewilderment as his helmet could convey.
“Well…u-um…I just…I…” she stammered, her old fearful disposition reasserting itself in force. Lorkhan bristled, turning away again and resting his axe on his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.” He growled, helm-vox masking any subtler emotion his voice may have held. She rubbed her arm nervously, turning to watch the Warsmith start to walk away.
“I just…o-oh my…I know this must be really hard for you, Mr Lorkhan.” She said meekly. “Being here, I mean. But I thought that…if I was kind to you…you might start being friendly back.”
He did not turn to her, still as a statue for a long time. Eventually though, the metallic sniggering noise started again. In moments the tranquil night was pierced by an unusual sound; the Warsmith of the Thirteenth Grand Company throwing back his head, and actually laughing.
“In ten thousand years of war…you are the first creature to ask for my friendship.” He said, still chuckling as he shook his head. He favoured the butter-coloured Pegasus with a sidelong glance.
“If you were to burn, Xen…Fluttershy…then I think we would all burn together.”
Stats
Page generated in 0.021 seconds
Total duration
696 users online
1,030,692 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Your title has a typo in it.
You meant to say "ordnance", not "ordinance". The former means military munitions. The latter means a locally-applied law and/or a religious practice/ritual by a church.
Mordecai WAS long overdue that punch, glorious Zuko saves the day.
Looking forward to Twilight becoming a rapier laser battery and blastin' some fools.
FlutterKhan 4 Lyf
Ahh Guiilliman, you and your Rapier Laser Batteries
I agree though, it was about time someone slapped Mordecai. And Lorkhan has moved up a rank or two in my list of favourites.
FlutterKhan is best ship!
3469580
The long con/troll is finally coming to an end.
Hehehehehe.
3469580
In this case both could be applied i think.
The situation they find themselves in is a serious challenge of the beliefs and rules (if you can call them that) they have been living with for 10000 years or more.
On the other hand guns are awesome and giant overengineered guns from the 41 (or in their case mostly the 31) millenium are even more awesome.
Twilight is studying Tzeechian sorcery... I like.
I like that some of the Iron warriors are getting closer to the ponies I enjoy the Lorkhan and Fluttershy parts the most because there adorable but im also very worried about what happened to the CMC's and how it appears Twilight is being corrupted by Tzeentch and did we ever find out what Rorke did to Pipsqueak
3470065
I KNEW IT.
I KNEW I WAS RIGHT.
HOW.
HOW COULD YOU.
I TRUSTED YOU.
YOU.
YOU IMPERIAL FIST
quickmeme.com/img/f9/f97b8936f17d1683a7268fd98dfbb3c794be44f165a90d500b91a4eafa296f78.jpg
3472509
Rorke took him on a magical picnic, before riding numerous fairground rides with the little and and sending him to bed with milk and cookies.
3474054
POWER! INFINITE POWER!!
2.bp.blogspot.com/-I8bur7YE6IE/TkvQdxwC6uI/AAAAAAAAAeU/aa8bcsFLqkw/s1600/PalpatineLightning.jpg
3474054 for some odd reason i believe your lying to me