A collection of 30-minute shorts written for the 30 minute challenge.
Just like the short description says. These are all the spawn of prompts from 30 minute ponies. http://thirtyminuteponies.tumblr.com/ You should check it out cause it's pretty neat. And yes, it has been done before, probably multiple times. It's just that I really do not care.
“So, ya want to be a hero?” The captain said, pacing across the floor like a proud, battle scarred, hat wearing peacock. The recruits shifted in place, the bravest even going so far as to nod at their to-be superior.
“Well! There’s a few things ya got to learn before ya go and start kicking dragons in their teeth. Important things, battle secrets passed down from generations that were kicking flank before your great grandparents were chewing cud! So listen up!” A few ponies in the line who had begun to snooze perked up at the booming command. “Someday you’re going to save the world with this information.”
“You there! Colt with that ridiculous helmet and the blueberry cutie mark. What do ya do when you’re outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and outstyled?”
“Outstyled?” the colt asked, quite confused. “What does style have to do with-”
“What doesn’t style have to do with combat is what ya meant to ask!” The captain interrupted. He took off his hat and raised it proudly in the air, the sunlight catching on the tattered thing. “This here hat has saved me from many a defeat by it’s sheer elegance alone! Once I was face to face with a sea serpent, big as Canterlot Castle and purple as the bruise on yer face after a good punch! He was a mighty opponent, and the remains of his foes were strewn about his river. I could tell, even as I stood before his mustachioed maw, that it wouldn’t be easy.
“We eyed each other up, like two soldiers ought to when they meet on the field of honor. His eyes gleamed like his chiseled nails. And then, just as I thought that we’d come to blows, he bowed before the superior style of my hat! Fainted dead over just at the sight of it!”
The captain plopped his serpent-slaying headwear back onto his head, the bright green color clashing loudly with his brown coat. Somepony in the back coughed, and had to stop themselves from becoming sick.
“But none of this answered my question. A true hero will always fight in impossible odds, because otherwise it just ain’t fair for the other side! The manual of Proper Pony Procedures dictates that any hero or vaguely heroic character must only engage at least five times his number, and the larger the foe the better!”
Pulling out a chalkboard from the wall, The captain began diagraming a typical hero scene. A stick figure that sort of resembled a pony was facing down two great lumps with spikes sticking out at random points. He circled the pony, and said with obvious disappointment, “This here is what happened to my last hero. The boy went and found himself a pair of dragons right out of training.”
“What happened to him?” a recruit asked, becoming worried about his future safety.
“He was kicked out!” The captain shouted, punching his hoof through the blackboard. “The horsefeatherin’ fool only fought two dragons. Two! Any self respectin’, Equestrian born, Celestia lovin’ hero would tell ya that five dragons is the absolute minimum; if yer a no guts pansy.” He pulled at his lodged hoof and, finding it stuck in the blackboard, punched the offending object again.
After a brief battle with the insubordinate equipment, the captain turned back to his recruits as an exasperated cleaning pony dealt with the unfortunate remains. “The colt came back, and managed to accept his dismissal before passing out. ‘Severe burns’ the nurses said; I call it weak-livered sloppiness!”
He turned to them, pointing triumphantly at each recruit. “But you lot won’t disappoint me the same way. You lot got the looks of a true hero ‘bout ya. Why, I bet each of ya could take on eight dragons with one hoof tied behind yer back, wearing nothing but what yer mother gave ya!”
His motivational speech no over, the captain retrieved a large metal contraption. It was as wide as the room, and narrow as a pony, and every visible surface was lined with pointy thorns, salt, and small pebbles. One side said ‘entrance’ and looked disquietingly like an Ursa Major’s maw, the other spewed fire for no discernible reason.
“I call this the hero-inator! And that’s trademarked, so don’t ya go and steal it from me.” The captain eyed everypony suspiciously. Even the maintenance pony who was working on the lights. “This here,” he continued, “is your final test.”
“We pass through that and become a hero?”
“No! You pass through this and become a sidekick’s lackey! What did you think this was, the hero academy?”
Everypony looked at the sign over the warehouse door that, quite clearly, read ‘hero academy for aspiring heroes and heroic sorts’.
“Now get in there!” the captain yelled.
Everything was silent. He turned around to face the recruits. Or rather, recruit. Only a single grey pegasus mare was left, staring in two different directions. The captain looked about, and had to conclude that she was the only survivor of a sudden stealth attack.
“Alright then! Get your flank in there!” And she did in the most literal sense possible. The pegasus lifted herself into the air and bodily hurled herself into the hero-inator. The metal bent and ripped like paper beneath her rear. The entire thing shuddered and wheezed before giving a short explosion. The pegasus looked back at the captain and smiled, absolutely oblivious.
“I’m Derpy!” she introduced herself. “What’s your name?”
“Cappy,” the captain murmured, eying the ruins with a growing sense of dread. “Can ya do that all the time?”
“It happens a lot,” Derpy said, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Nevermind that. Derpy, you are hereby promoted to the title of hero! We gotta get you on the field immediately!”
Two weeks later, at a minor pastry skirmish between griffins and ponies, a grey pegasus was launched through the air. The griffins would talk of her as the great destroyer. The ponies would hail her as a hero. Derpy just wondered what went wrong.
He walked alone through the tattered camp, though he was surrounded on all sides by fellow ponies. They chatted quietly amongst themselves, but it was idle noise meant only to distract. They were refugees, after all, and there was little to talk about except for loss and grief and memories.
Chalk left the ring of tents and climbed a nearby hill. From here he could see for miles on the flat land. On days long passed, he had strained his younger neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of far off places, or just watching the endless fields of golden grass wave in the wind. Now the grass was gone, burnt to mere stalks and staining the fields with their cinders, and miles of refugee camps littered the scenery. Now the mountains that had blocked his view years ago were desolate teeth, puncturing the blood-red skies; the earth rising up to devour the heavens.
Even the sky was different. There were no clouds, hadn’t been any for months. There hadn’t been days or nights for just as long. Now the sun and moon hung together in the sky, fused into a burning pit that bled it’s eerie colors across the land. Everything was tinted red. The two celestial bodies had not risen nor fallen since the day everything collapsed. They had just embraced in the sky like fearful children, and slowly drifted towards the horizon.
Ponies made guesses as to what would happen when they finally dipped over the edge. Would they simply cease to be? Would Equestria and all the world be wrapped in the abyssal darkness?
Chalk shook his head, feeling an anxious weight grow in his gut. Best not to think of it. Pegasi had lost control of their skies, unicorns could rarely summon a spark, what was a simple earth pony to do against the whims of the stars?
“... looks bleak, but we must not give up.”
What was that? Chalk jumped to his hooves and ran for cover behind a decrepit shrub. He didn’t worry about blending in; everything was nearly the same color, after all. As he watched, two mares crested his- the hill and sat together, facing east, towards the falling eclipse.
“Give up what?” the larger asked. “We have already lost everything we could give up.” She bowed her head, and Chalk saw a horn glimmer in the red gloom. “She can not answer me, because she is breathing her last. Tell me you do not sense the same with yours?”
The smaller sighed forlornly. “They are lost to us both, yes. The land has turned against us, yes. The ponies are struggling to survive, yes. But you told me once that there are things more resilient than any of these. Bonds forged in hearts and joy and grief. We can not abandon those completely.” She turned her head to the larger and whispered “You can not abandon me. Not after all we have done.”
“I wish you had been with me, for those long centuries. Perhaps our fates would not have come to this.” The larger silenced the other as she began to protest, “I know, it is useless to look at what might have been. And I do not blame you, dear sister, not for anything. I will not leave you, whatever may happen.”
The two, the sisters, spread a wing over each others back after a moment of silence. Chalk almost gasped; wings and a horns? Such a thing had not been seen for decades. The tales said the mighty alicorns had fled from the world, foreseeing it’s eventual doom. But he stayed quiet, not wanting to disturb them.
“I just fear,” the larger said at last, “that even those bonds, friendship and love, may not survive. Tomorrow will not dawn at all, sister. I can feel it, like a cockatrice walking over my grave, as the ponies say.”
They shared the winged hug a little longer before departing. Chalk tried to catch a last glimpse of the two legends, but in the gloom and distance they seemed to vanish. Then he sat on the hill, looking at the world. The anxious feeling was back, but he could not shake it.
The camp was murmuring to itself, gathered around campfires and cooking pots, trying to relieve that burden of paranoia. The battle hadn’t happened yet, but there were hours yet until the sun set, and tomorrow always loomed with deadly promise. There was one pony, though, who stomped down the path, making a visible effort to be annoyed. The idle ponies looked over, wondering how she got so scruffed without a battle. She shot them glares from under her rainbow mane.
Parting the flaps to the medical tent, Rainbow Dash fell onto her usual bed and awaited treatment, huffing and tapping her hooves. Far too long later, though it was but a minute, the nurse approached. Halting at the edge of Rainbow’s sight, she looked more like a pink and yellow blob.
“Um, Rainbow? Why... what are you doing here? Not that I mind, unless you’re hurt, because that would be...”
Rainbow waved a hoof, still staring at the ceiling. “Sprained my wing in sparring match.”
“Oh.”
Fluttershy’s voice petered out like a breeze, and she, very very gently, nosed Rainbow onto her stomach so she could work. One of the pegasus’s wings was curled up tightly, blue feathers sprayed every which way. Trying to pry it loose got a hiss and a flinch. Then Rainbow forced her wing out with gritted teeth, refusing to be beaten by her own appendage.
Fluttershy made soft clucking noises as she prodded the muscles, like a mother to some misbehaving child. “Don’t you start on me,” Rainbow snapped, “I’ve gotten enough crud from Apple butt.”
“... I think her name’s Applejack?”
“Whatever. She pulled a dirty move on me. I wasn’t expecting to be sparring a cheat!”
“Applejack would never cheat-”
“I’m not a cheat!”
Fluttershy jumped backwards, muffling her yelp with her hooves, hoping the pink monster would leave her alone and not eat her- oh. It was a pony.
The pink monster was standing just behind where Fluttershy had been, and was pouting with visible effort. She was not a little worried that the mare would actually burst into tears.
“You jumped, like, fifty feet in the air! That’s not possible for an earth pony.”
“Unless they have really strong hoofsies, and I dooo!”
“Horseapples, where are the springs?”
“Ooh, springs! That’s a great idea- hey! What’re you doing?”
Rainbow had grabbed the other mare’s leg, and was searching for something. Fluttershy lifted a hoof, then dropped it. It was, technically, her job to keep peace in the tent, but they weren’t roughhousing. Rainbow knew better than that. Maybe. She hoped.
And then the two fell to the floor, rolling around while Rainbow tried to wrestle the pink pony down.
“Um, girls?” Fluttershy squeaked, hoof raised once more.
“Pinkie Pie! Just stay still!”
“Whee!”
“Girls?”
They rolled into a table, sending medical supplies spinning into the air. Fluttershy darted forwards, catching them with hooves and wings before they could be sullied by the dirt floor. She gulped when a small, dangerously sharp knife landed on her nose and perched itself, just waiting to fall. Now things were getting out of hoof.
“Gir-”
“Soldiers!”
Everything froze. Pinkie and Rainbow paused their second sparring match, glancing up to see their commander at the entrance, looking at them with a raised brow. Fluttershy had jumped at the shout, and was now frowning at the mess of dropped tools around her.
“If you would please cease this... whatever this is, you are needed with the rest of the troops. I’ve just received a missive from the Princess; the gryphons are marching our way.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. The two wrestlers separated and saluted the unicorn before galloping outside. The commander considered the tent for a moment and turned to leave.
“Commander Sparkle?”
“Yes?”
“They’re... they won’t come here, right? I’m not, I don’t know how to fight. I’m just a medic...”
“Princess Celestia willing, we’ll stop them outside.”
The commander walked out without another word, leaving Fluttershy to clean up her tent and prepare for the oncoming battle. This was to be her first taste of the years long conflict, and already her legs were trembling.