Fallout Equestria: Taking Life By The Horns

by Pokonic

Confusion is Expected

One does not simply sneak out past curfew in the compound. This was not so much a suggestion as a general fact of life, even if there wasn't a real reason for the curfew or that anyone really liked the idea of one.

Besides the effort needed to sneak out without waking someone up, you need to bypass the guards. While it might seem that the latter would be harder, it was actually the former that kept most from attempting a flight in the night. The set of stairs that make up the walkways used to ascend and descend were narrow and had little room for error in a step, and as it was minotaurs do not have a center of gravity so much as a sense of direction. As such, it takes genuine skill to walk the steps without effort. A misstep could cause one to fall, and that would be very bad for anyone high up enough, and the sound of hooves on dried clay is unmistakable when you are used to it.

Thankfully, my kin are heavy sleepers, even more so after a hard day working, so I did not really worry about waking them up, as I considered myself light of hoof. If Brass’s bumbling did not wake them up anyway, I had faith that my efforts at sneaking out would not cause them to wake up. Even better, I lived on the third floor out of ten, so it made for a quick trip down to the ground. Such was the benefit of being a day-guard.

It still was a effort, of course. It was hard to get a feel for where the steps where, even more so in the darkness. I looked below me and scowled. None of the upper floors had lighting, but there were lights jury-rigged all along the walls of the first layer of housing, the area reserved for the hunters and valued members of the commune. Wizened old bulls who could not make it up the stairs, springers close to calving, senior guards,and other such useful individuals. Nearly everyone wanted a place in the compound close to the well, the eating area, and the air conditioner.

But of course, that did not matter, nor did my pangs for a climate-controlled room. With a little ice-box with cold milk and cheese, any time one wished....

I nearly cried out as my hoof hits the wall, and I barely grip onto the walls lowly placed safety grip, made for calves and those too old to walk without assistance. The little brass bar nailed into the wall gives a forbidding creak before I manage to heave my body upright back on the steps, and I count myself lucky that it did not break supporting my weight. Then I felt the new curve the bar sported with my thumb, and I sigh and start walking again. While it was a good thing I would not have to explain that to anyone, I pitied the calves. Punishments were swift, and thanks to the stockpile of healing potions, breaking bones were perfectly excusable for the sake of punishments. Never the hands themselves, of course, to many little bones, but fingers were fair game.

The journey to the lower levels was quick after that little incident, with no mishaps involving deep thought and chipped hooves. I would have considered my descent stealthy, if it were not for the force of me hitting the ground causing the closest lantern-holder to swing slightly. I gave the ground a quick sweeping look: still as brown as ever, with each of the work areas unmanned and tidy. I did not have be as careful on the ground, considering the minotaurs on the ground floor, who had all the best stuff that I should have earned by now, had somehow soundproofed there rooms for dubious uses. Frankly, the only thing I worried about was the pens and the Elder.

The Elder did not live in the block of houses as did everyone else. Rather, he lived in a building that I suspected was a pre-war barn, a large red structure with two huge wooden doors and the housing for the commune’s power generator, school, and hospital. Directly outside it was the great brass gong used to announce the official start of the day,and the little round hovering robot that was the main source of far-off news, the Spritebot. And of course, his dwellings doors were facing the rocky cliffs the rest of us lived on. But that was not my main concern.

It was the goats and sheep.

To be exact, the incredibly sensitive hearing both species had.

I said nothing as I slowly walked past the stone tables of the eating area and past the Elder’s dwelling. This was bad, because while both species were were stupid, they had better hearing than minotaurs, woke easily, and bleated when frightened. My chances at making past them were slim, but I already made it this far.

So I walked, with all the care I could muster into my steps, past the pen.

I waited until I was a few minutes away from the pen before I congratulated myself. I assumed I had made it home free. Well, at least half-way. The walls were a few minutes of careful walking away, and then I could make my way to the guards little party without incident.

But then, something bumped into my hips. Hard.

I, for the the record, did not make any noise, too surprised to do so.

The mare I let inside earlier let out the frightened squeak that woke up the cursed goats, however.

---

Oh, yes, we got away before the Elder grumbled out of his house-cum-storage area and calmed down the blasted things, presumably promising to bring the topic up with the guards the next day. However, that was not my main issue, seeing as the pony known as Blueberry Cream was sneaking about in the camp. During the few minutes of silence between us, in our position on the ground right on the sloping exterior of the dirt walls, I decided to examine her body.

No, not like that. Ponies have little picture’s on their bums, right?

The short little pony had a light blue coat of fur, with a azure-colored mane with almost purplish highlights. On a second inspection, it really did seem like her legs were rather short, even shorter than the other ponies that I had seen before. From the way they were built, I would guess that they were less than a foot long, each.

While it was hard to see in the light her cuti-something was a....orb of some sort. Possibly a blueberry, whatever that was, it was not enough light to tell and I would think that ponies would be reserved about other’s figuring out the meanings of their prophetic arse-pictures.

In order to get my mind off the topic of pony butts and what cruel divinity made them the way they are, I decided to speak first with traditional minotaurian tact.

“Why the hells did you bump into me!”

She gave me a glare. “Your coat is pitch black. I was moving in the dark, which is pitch black.”

The mare pressed on after I snorted in response. “ And I was following the group of armed minotaurs leaving the camp. I would assume you were following them, too?”

I stopped fuming and gave the little mare a confused glance,“Yes, yes I was. But why are you sneaking around in the first place?

She just glared at me. Again. I couldn't help but notice that her eyes stood out in the dark. “I don’t like it when armed anything’s wander around when a visitor comes to town.”

Ah, she was scared. Understandable, considering she was alone in a place filled with things that were each wider than she was tall. I suppose, as a guard, it was a duty of mine to relieve strangers of their worries about a place. The other was to stab them if they were asking too many questions, but I never had to do that, so I suppressed that thought.

“Don’t worry about it, they are not gathering over you. They are just relaxing. They found some liquor, that's all.”

She visibly relaxed at that. Normally, I would have been happy, but then I saw something holstered to her side by a simple sling. Even in the half-light, I remembered that blunt shape clearly: I once saw it on a pony who was guarding one of the few caravans that would come through our lands, and when they stayed the night the pony bragged he found it in a abandoned pony military complex. When one of the old cows did not think he was telling the truth, he messed around with the cursed thing and pointed it at a wall. When he was finished, it had carved a deep gash into the solid rock.

It was a laser pistol, painted blue with a silver firing mechanism.

I was amazed at the ponies rashness. “Why are carrying a lethal weapon with you while following a group of armed guards! Do you want to get killed around here?”

She just looked at me. It clicked. Nice job making her feel welcome indeed.

After seeing my half-dazed expression, she just grinned. Widely. I shuddered slightly. Tiny equines should not have such big mouths.

“Look here. This is not a lethal weapon. This is a method of self-defence. Now, the question is, do I have to defend myself right now?”she sang sweetly.

My mouth hung open. The chub-blob from the morning just turned into, well, a pragmatic wastelander. I was dumbfounded. Are all ponies crazy!

I hardly had time to comprehend her one-eighty in personality before I noticed something that made me further frightened. Something blue and wavy.

The bringer of lazery death was hovering next to her now, enveloped in a blue glow. I looked at her questioningly, and I was shocked to see that, between a few seconds of looking in the other direction, she suddenly became a sported a smirk and a horn.

"But...how...why....that..."

Oh come on!

“This isn’t fair. I was the one that helped you earlier.” I said, whimpering slightly as the pistol aimed itself at me in mid-air before I could blink. It was out of grabbing distance, too.

The mare just looked at me and smiled, her freaky pony eyes seemingly sparkling in the half-light. Ohh, she was all smiles and chub and blue, but under that thick, fuzzy exterior lurked a heart of pure evil. “Oh, yes, Ever Watchful. Yes, yes it is. Little ladies like me need all they can get there hooves on to survive in the wasteland. Spell’s and energy weapons are the least of your issues right now, I assure you.”

I just looked at the blue mare. My brain was still playing catch-up. This...equine is mocking me in some manner. Probably. She just looked at my probably dazed look and grinned wider. Somehow.

“Now, this is going to be simple.”

I did nothing, because I swore the silvery firing mechanism moved slightly. Her small smile never let up as she continued to speak, some amount of arrogance entering her voice.

“You are going to take ten steps away from me. You are then going to briskly walk to the hunters lodge, and I will follow you. If you make a move, big boy, I will be forced to defend myself. If you say anything to your friends, I will be forced to use lethal force to protect myself. Are we clear, Ever Watchful? You do anything, you die.”

I carefully nod my head, trying not to panic. Oh, fuck.

---

I was still half-surprised she knew about the hunting lodge, but considering that she has the ability to cast illusions means that anything I could guess about her was probably carefully crafted on her part. Frankly, if she turned out to be one of those “Alicorn” things that occasionally turned up on the radio every so often, I would not be surprised. However, I mostly walked and kept walking, because I could swear I could feel the pistol pointed at my back and she was trotting right behind me

Neverless, the lodge was not that long of a trip away from the main compound, but it was hidden well enough. It was a large crevice in the hills some brilliant minotaur converted into a secondary armory and the closest thing to a fortress the commune had, complete with a little pool of fresh water created by a little nifty gem-thing that the Elder supposedly brought with him when the compound was just being settled. Anyway, the disguise hardly helped keep it hidden, because the whole place stunk.

Because, as doubling as the hunters little playhouse, it also was the butchery area. Tallow and leather and all that jazz were made by the hunters themselves, and I half suspected that the only reason the water-maker was not in the central compound was so that the hunters did not stink the rest of us to death. Dead Rad-hogs and Geckos did not smell nice raw, especially considering the offal.

But all that’s just details, compared to the primary goals of the day: attempting to enjoy some beer while being in mortal danger.

I managed to make it to the open entrance of the lodge quickly,even away from the only light source in a good days travel, as it was a bright spot in the otherwise dark night. Seems like they were abandoning all attempts at there typical stealth, so whatever was going on in there was probably at full swing. After getting within a good sprint’s distance away from the illuminated pit in the hill I took a glance at Blueberry, and was rather startled that I could clearly see her eyes even in the near-total darkness.

Were they....yes, apparently, they were glowing, and were now just giving me a piercing glare that promised death. It might have been just me, but she must be under some vision depth-warping spell, considering I could not tell just how far she was away from me just by looking at the seemingly floating green orbs of creepy that was eyeballing me.

I just turned around back to the entrance, suppressed a shudder, closed my eyes, and walked into the light.

---

I opened my eyes when I felt the fire, and I wished I didn’t. Whatever party was going on had ended quite a while ago, if the sleeping forms of boozed-up minotaur lying on the floor meant anything. I saw Brass using her mechanical hammer as a makeshift pillow, while several of the other visiting guards I knew where pretty much hammered metaphorically. Two of them, Steel Shaft and Total Awareness, was in a fascinating position on the ground that I noted for the purpose of a later conversation piece, while several of the hunters had fallen asleep standing up, knee’s half-bent but still kept standing thanks to the shear weight of the metal guard armor.

In any other occasion, I would have laughed at the site of the fifteen most intimidating individuals in the commune all completely hammered. Unfortunately, the head of the hunters was leaning on one of the pillars supporting the whole structure. A massive, scarred-covered black-coated bull with a set of cobbled-together armor bristling with sharp spikes that probably served no real use and a twisted helm that had to be modified to fit his oversized, iron-tipped horns in it, he was the communes longest serving chief hunter, and was a local hero for finding a young sleeping dragon in the hills when he was young and braining it himself. He was also looking straight into my eyes, and if it were not for the fact that minotaurs have no magic whatsoever, my quivering soul.

Bulls Strength, the Elders right hand and closest confidant, was visibly upset. Still completely awake and glaring at me with stormy grey eyes, he grumbled the words I knew were coming.

“I am disappointed in you, son.”