Equestrian Adventures

by Furox

Prologue

There is neither a beginning nor an end. But, the wind that rose from the Crystal Mountains was a beginning. It descended from it's lofty heights and rushed south. It passed a large city that towered from it's own peak. Finally, it slowed over the plains it now crossed, before the wind whipped around a particular filly. Who shuddered from the sudden rush of cold air.

The day was bright and warm in Ponyville. Two fillies, Emerald Wreath and Vanilla Patch were playfully bombarding random objects in a rocky field with their brand new catapult. Emerald Wreath was a unicorn with a light emerald coat, a long and well-brushed dark-green mane, and soft blue eyes. She held a hoof to shade her eyes as she searched for a new target. Vanilla Patch, an earth pony with a pale yellow coat, blue green-streaked mane, and sky-blue eyes, was loading the catapult's tray with a large rock.

“See that dead tree over there?” said Emerald.

Vanilla Patch looked where Emerald was pointing then replied with a quick, “Yep.”

“Prepare to fire!” Emerald commanded.

Vanilla Patch, made static noises with her mouth, as if speaking into a voice-transferring device. “This is Captain Vanilla Patch relaying to Colonel Emerald Wreath. Beginning countdown for projectile number twenty-seven now. Over. Firing in Three...Two...One... Firing!”

The rock is released from the catapult and flies through the air and smacks the dead tree. It quivers from the force of the projectile. Emerald and Vanilla high-hoof and cheer after they hit their target.

“I can’t believe we actually hit our target!” Vanilla leaped with joy.

Emerald Wreath rolled her eyes, “Hey, I could have hit that stump! The sun was just in my eyes. It threw off my aim!”

Vanilla quickly smiled and began to look for a new victim. The two of them had spent nearly the whole morning taking shots at everything in sight, but so far, they had only managed to hit the dead tree. The field was littered with failed attempts. Vanilla squinted when the sun gave a glare off an object to her left.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That! That thing over there. It’s really shiny.” Vanilla Patch points to it. Whatever it was, It had been half buried in the dirt, but the metallic surface poked out, and gleamed in stark contrast to the ground.

“Help me dig it out, Van.”

The two approached the mysterious object and dug at the dirt around the object. They uncovered a large, flat metallic object. The edges were tarnished with rust, and adorned in the center was an unidentifiable symbol. It appeared to be a knife facing down, with a purple six-pointed star held on the inside, but the fillies had no idea what it could mean.

“It... It looks like some sort of shield,” said Vanilla.

“What the hay is a shield doing out here?”

“I have absolutely no idea, but I bet I know who does! Let’s bring this to Grandpa Wordsworth!”

The two fillies lifted up the shield together-it’s heavier than it looks-and carried it out of the field, taking one of Ponyville’s many dirt roads on the outskirts of town. After some time, they reached Grandpa Wordsworth’s house on the corner of Old Berry Street. Vanilla Patch knocks on the door. Slowly, the door opens revealing Grandpa Wordsworth.

The old stallion's white coat was ragged and his blue eyes had weighty bags. His mane was grey, but perhaps it had been a different color when he was more youthful. Wordsworth's tired and ancient voice greeted the young ponies, “Ah, hello, little fillies! What brings you here now? I hope you didn’t bring me any elderberries. They give me terrible gas!” He chuckled a bit at that.

“No, Grandpa. We found this shield!” said Vanilla who accidentally dropped the shield with a dull thud.

“We were out in the western rock field when we found it buried in the ground,” chipped in Emerald.

The two fillies parted to reveal their prize to Grandpa Wordsworth. He squinted down at it and mumbled to himself for a moment, and then suddenly gave a frightened, “Gah!” He tapped the shield with his hoof cautiously, as if the shield might come alive and bite him. Emerald Wreath frowned at Vanilla Patch, who shrugged. Wordsworth quickly grabbed the shield in his mouth before motioning them follow him. Emerald and Vanilla dash inside.

The inside of Grandpa Wordsworth's house was not far from Grandpa Wordsworth himself. A rustic country appeal. Grandly shaped furniture. Wallpaper that was showing signs of peeling at the corners. Artifacts from days long past and pictures of ponies that he must have known.

Wordsworth stopped in what appeared to be the study. He turned back to the two fillies, forgetting that he still had the shield in his mouth. “You 'ave no i'ea 'at 'is is 'o you?”

Both Emerald and Vanilla looked sorely confused. Then Wordsworth, realizing he just spoke with the shield in his mouth, grinned sheepishly and set it down before repeating, "You have no idea what this is do you?" But, he received nearly the same reaction, to which he promptly began to show some frustration.

“I never told you the stories? My goodness, I thought I told those to everypony at least fifty times already!” he exclaimed. “Do you fillies have any plans for this afternoon?

"Well, we do have our catapult, but it's not going anywhere," noted Vanilla.

“I’d like to tell you both the tales of my adventures with the Hearts.”

Emerald gags, “The Hearts?”

Wordsworth just chuckled, “Oh, these are far from sappy love stories little one." He straightened his back and made himself appear less feeble with each passing word, "They are full of action, excitement, nitty-gritty, hoof-biting moments that will keep you on the edge for days to come! You'll have dreams that will be full of courage from my tales when I'm through!”

The little fillies’ eyes became more focused on Wordsworth with each passing word, their grins grew wide and full. Wordsworth noticed this and smiled.

“So, are you ready to listen?”

Both the fillies rocket into the air, “Yes, yes! Tell us the stories, Grandpa!”

Wordsworth meandered over to his sitting chair and picked up a glass of cider from the nearby table. He took his seat and gave a sigh. The fillies, seemingly in a trance, sat in front of him eagerly awaiting him to begin.

Author's Note:

Caution: You have been infected with "Adventuring Syndrome".

Comments

[NightmareKnight]

Leaving in 3, 2, 1... now.

[Furox]

I think that comment will give newcomers the wrong impression...
And darnit! You figured out the passcode!