In a world of toil and strife, where civilazation is just barely beginning to spread, everything rests on the shoulders of those brave enough to venture into the wastelands to deliver supplies. Everything rests... on the caravaneers.
Dusty wastelands, scorching deserts, jagged mountains, perilous canyons... that about sums up the main features of Equestria, a place that's less of a nation, more of a loose group of widespread towns and cities that depend on each other for supplies. But the distance between civilized places is great, the environment treacherous, and the land crawling with cutthroat bandits of all races. Who would dare trek to make sure the goods make it on time (for the right price)?
Enter the Caravaneers.
Young Earth pony Wagon Trail had always wanted to be the leader of his own caravan... helping his fellow pony, work alongside friends, fend off a few bandits, and earn some bits in the process!
So when he inherits what was left of his uncle's own caravan, including the only three crew members who didn't die in the ambush (because they weren't there), he couldn't have been more excited!
Oh, what a fool he was.
For the life of a Caravaneer is not an easy one. Food and water run low, carts and wagons break, and tensions and rivalries form. Will young Wagon Trail be able to cope with the danger, the death, the betrayal...
Will he be able to be... a Caravaneer.
NOTE: I vaguely based this off of the flash game Caravaneer. I do not own this game, nor do I own MLP:FiM. Also, while alternate reality versions of characters from the show will probably pop up, I'm resisting the urge to make them main characters here. I have already decided a few side characters who will have influential roles, but at the moment I don't think they will be enough to require tags for them. One last thing... if anyone can find or draw a good picture for this, that'd be great. Just something for the time being. Thanks.
UPDATE (9/21): Okay, I broke and decided that yes, the side ponies I wanted to mention in the story will become main characters at some point. So now the main characters won't all be OCs. So I have added the tags for those future characters below. Also, added a sex tag, because there will definitely be sexual references later on. Nothing descriptive mind you, my goal is to keep this Teen rated, but it will still probably happen.
UPDATE (9/23): Woo! Found a decent cover image for the time being! Later on, once I've gotten more characters, I might try to draw (or more likely find someone to draw) a more detailed, story-specific cover.
Cracked Wing Canyon... a place renowned through-out the loose connection of towns, forts, and cities commonly referred to as Equestria for its foreboding sheer cliff faces, intricate cave systems, and randomly appearing wind currents known to bash unwary pegasi into the jagged canyon walls (thus the name).
It was also known for being the fastest route from the castle town of Canterish to the ailing town of Maresi. But even if this were the case, no caravan in its right mind would go through this path unless they were crazy, stupid, or desperate.
"Come lads! Let's get through this as quick as can be! We must reach Maresi before sundown!"
Of course, the caravaneer known as Side Track definitely qualified for two of those titles.
It wasn't the most impressive caravan, but it was nothing to scoff at either. Ten wagons in all, loaded with food, clothing, medicine... all the necessary supplies to help the poor mining town. Most wagons were pulled by two Earth ponies each, with the exception of two, each pulled by a single minotaur. Along side the wagons walked the rest of the crew. A few unicorn mechanics ran here and there, checking the wagons for any faults. Gryphon guards and mercenaries kept an eye out for danger, from both on foot and from the sky, wielding swords, spears, even the rare weapon known as a 'firearm'. Several pegasi perched atop the wagons or carefully took to the sky, aiding in the watch, ready for danger.
And sitting atop the first wagon in the train was an aged stallion... Side Track, leader of this modest caravan. To the right him sat his lover and fiance, a lovely pegasus named Short Cut, who acted as the caravan's head navigator. And to the left of him sat a pony he had saved from certain death in the middle of the desert a few weeks ago. The other members of the crew had been suspicious of her, had wanted to throw her out, but Side Track wouldn't hear of it. She was just a lost, hurt mare. After spending so much time with her, he couldn't help but think of the lass as like a daughter to him. Short Cut had been the first crew member besides him to accept her, and eventually most of the others had taken to her charm. Still, there was some distrust in her... nothing Side couldn't stomp out later.
Right now though, most of the crew had bigger things to worry about. This was Cracked Wing Canyon after all... but it wasn't just the sudden gales that would blow through every now and then, or the rocky walls bordering them on both sides, that caused this nervousness. There were tales... rumors... about this place. Tales that many who enter the canyon never leave it... that they just seem to disappear without a trace. They knew it was silly... how could an entire caravan just up and disappear? But still... every tale has a grain of truth, they say. Many caravans had gone missing before. And occasionally, survivors of wagon attacks spoke of a dark cloud that would hang over the canyon, raining down death upon those foolish enough to enter that wicked place. And from that haunted look on their face... you just knew there was something to their claims...
But none of this bothered those three at the front. Side Track's eyes were glued dead ahead, gazing towards the far off exit to the canyon that would put them just a few hours away from their destination. Short Cut cheerfully went over her maps again, checking and double checking to be sure nothing went wrong. And as for the newcomer... she just gazed wistfully up to some of the caves lining the canyon walls, a proud smirk on her face. If anyone had seen her then, they would have noticed her give a brief nod, as if in approval, up to one of those caves.
Suddenly, Short Cut stood up and stretched out her wings. "Air feels like there won't be another gust for a long while. I'm gonna fly up and see if I can't get a look at our progress."
After a quick approving smile from her future husband, she took to the skies, gracefully sailing up to the top of the canyon. Side watched her, in awe of her beauty and elegance as always. Then he noticed her slow, something having caught her eye it would seem. As she flew towards the cliff face to see what it was, suddenly her eyes grew wide, and she turned to shout an unheard warning before turning tail to dash back down.
What is she-
Suddenly, a dark figure lunged out of the cave she had approached, flinging a crude spear with deadly accuracy, stabbing her right through the back of her throat. Her face suddenly frozen in a mask of horror, she crashed to the ground next to the third wagon, blood gushing from her punctured neck.
"NOOOO!!" the caravaneer shouted, leaping to the ground to rush to her side. But it was too late... there was no way anypony could survive such a blow. Fighting back tears in his eyes, he heard panicked shouts, screams of pain, gunshots... and he realized what she had tried to warn him. He watched her lips move in his memories, reading them, hearing the one word all caravaneers feared...
"AMBUSH!"
Just as Side Track began to rise, he felt a hoof roughly shove him back down, making him land on top his dead fiancee's corpse. And then... the cold steel of a blade point pressed against his neck. "Beautiful, isn't she?" he heard a familiar voice purr.
"You!? You were behind this?! After all we've done, you betray us?! She trusted you! I TRUSTED YOU!!!"
All he received was an amused chuckle. "Oh, dear Side Track, you poor old fool. Did you honestly think you could trust the Queen of Death? That's right, you heard me. Now then, take a look at the sky dear. Tell me what you see."
As the blade pulled back a little, Side Track glared to the sky... and froze.
"Mother of Celestia..."
The sky had been blotted out by a writhing, swarming mass of winged, dark-coated creatures. Spears were flung down from the heavens to skewer an unlucky crew member.
"The cloud... the Death Cloud..."
Suddenly, he screamed in agony as the blade swept across his back, leaving a deep gash. He was spun around and thrown to the ground, and he fought the pain long enough to look his attacker in her shining eyes.
"Just wanted to make sure that the last things you would see would be the face of you and your crew's deaths. So, fair well, Side Track. Say hi to the goddesses for me!"
And before he could respond, he had an ornate dagger stabbed in between his ribs, had that dagger forced down and twisted before being pulled out by the pony he had been so fond of. She simply laughed and stepped away to finish her business, leaving him there to slowly bleed to death.
As he closed his eyes and let everything fade to black, two ponies came to mind. One was his beloved... "Short Cut... I'll be with you soon"... and the second... a young stallion... eyes gleaming with pride, full of hopes and dreams...
"Wagon Trail... I'll never see you again lad... never see you fulfill those dreams... please... use my final gifts wisely..."
The sun rose over the small trading town of Trotston. The desert wind blew stinging sand through the hot, morning air as the townsfolk rose, ready for another day of work. Steel Mill the Earth pony got to his forge, eager to get to work on that shipment of swords for the Canterish Patrol. Sand Breeze, a pegasus, sat in her watch tower, eyes open for any sandstorms, Dust Devils, or bandits that would dare even think of coming into town. Nearby her was her partner Sharpeye, a rough young gryphon mercenary that the sheriff had hired to help keep Trotston safe.
Speaking of the sheriff...
Things were fairly quiet in the sheriff's office that day... as usual. Being a small town, Trotston didn't usually attract the kind of attention that brought in many bandit raids. And there was rarely any unrest in the town... most citizens were too busy working to cause any trouble. Small as it was, Trotston was an important part of Equestria, known both for the quality metal workings that came out of Steel Mill's shop and for being the go to rest and trading stop for almost all the big caravan routes. Most of the town's life and economy revolved around the caravans. From the business they give the local tavern, the Smoking Mane (long story behind that name...), to the trading they did in town, caravans weren't only supplying necessities here... they were also bringing in money for the town!
As the day begun for the rest of the town, Sheriff Swift Shot, a rather plain-looking, aging unicorn, found himself faced against his most hated enemy... paper work. Being a small town, he also functioned somewhat as an unofficial mayor.
"Approve this... read through that... bah! List of caravans expected today, know that like the back of my hoof! Hmph... damn bureaucrats... Sign here, initial there, blah blah blah... Why in the divine name of Celestia do I put up with this-"
Suddenly, a pegasus mail carrier burst through the Sheriff's Office doors. "Sir, sir! Important message! Important! Must read! Your eyes only!" Slamming the letter down onto Swift Shot's desk, the panicking pegasus quickly turned tail and flew right back out the way he came.
Sheriff Shot stared dazedly at where the spot where the pegasus had been a moment ago, before slumping his head to the desk with a frustrated groan. "Damn... doesn't he ever just slow down, stop and say 'Hi', or 'Good morning'? Miss that other mare we had... she was nice, bit odd thing 'bout the eyes, but nice... well, at least Bad News travels fast... ugh..."
Raising his head, he glanced down at the letter. He was skeptical that it would be THAT important... Bad News had a habit of making everything he delivered sound worse than it was. Why, he'd once delivered a birthday card, and acted as if it would explode the moment it left his hoof! But... 'For your eyes only'? That was... unusual, even for him. With a dejected sigh, Sheriff Swift Shot levitated out his letter opener.
"Well," he said, bored and tired, lifting up the letter to read what had been so important... "Let's see what all the fuss is-... wait... no... how..." His brow furrowed as he read, his face quickly taking on a look that it seldom ever even came close to resembling: shock. "He... he can't be..."
It was terrible news. And he knew why he'd been the one to get the letter... He let out a sad sigh as he finished and the reality of it hit him. But this was no time to mourn. He had business to attend to.
First off... he pulled out that list of caravans he'd dismissed... and crossed off the top name. "Well old friend... looks like we ain't going to be having that beer after all..."
And now... one more thing... something that utterly broke his heart.
Time to go tell the family.
Wagon Trail's day had been downright awful so far. He had fallen out of bed, an hour late for work. He didn't get the chance to grab something for breakfast, and as punishment for being late (again) his boss, Track Keeper, had him skip his lunch break. Half of the loads he took in his wagon were too heavy and strained his back to no end, and the other half were typically garbage or something equally foul. Now he was getting off work, tired, starving, and filthy...
And with a big smile on his face the entire time. Why? Because today he knew was when his uncle Side Track's caravan was going to stop in town for the day. And there was nothing in this world that Wagon Trail loved more than spending time with his uncle and his crew. Hearing stories of their daring battles and adventures, watching the crew members do business, learning all the fine points of how to keep a caravan successful and running... those were the highlights of his days!
His life long dream had been to be a caravaneer like his uncle. To go out and help the loose confederation of towns survive the harsh land of Equestria. To fend off the bandit hordes that swarmed the deserts and wastelands. It was all he'd ever wanting from his life. He knew one day he'd get the bits and supplies to go out, get a crew of his own, to start buying and selling. He'd spent his life studying the ways the economy of places like Trotston worked. And he'd never forget when his uncle had given him an Earth pony's best friend in combat... a wrist blade. After months of practice, Wagon was sure he was decent enough at it to stand for himself in a fight with it there, ready to spring out with a twitch of the wrist.
Wagon Trail wasn't much to look at. He was a relatively handsome youth, an Earth pony like all of his family members. With his charcoal colored mane, inherited from his father, and his beige coat from his mother, he looked pretty average. He wasn't big, but he wasn't small. He was strong, but it didn't really show much. All in all, he was... himself. That's all that mattered to him. Let them judge me by my looks... I've nothing to prove to anypony.
He had to swing by his house, where he stayed with his mother, Dust Bowl (not an inspiring name when one learned she was a cook...). Just wanted to clean himself up before he went out to see uncle Track!
When he stepped through the kitchen door, he knew something was wrong. Usually his mother would be working in the kitchen right now... then he noticed a sound from the living room... a mare crying.
"Ma?!" he shouted as he galloped into the room, only to meet with a distraught mother and a solemn looking sheriff.
"Son... oh my darlin' son..." his mother cried as she flung her forelimbs around him, crying into his shoulder.
"Ma, what's wrong? C'mon now, what's the matter? You don't want uncle to see you like this when he-"
When her crying grew louder at his last statement, it started to dawn on him what was going on. The sheriff shook his head sadly as shock, disbelief, sorrow hit the young stallion's face. He swore he saw the colt's mouth shape out the word "No..."
"Son... your uncle ain't comin' back... not ever again..."
After letting the two cry themselves dry, Swift Shot gave them the details.
"Now son, your uncle has always been a great friend of mine. And I know for a fact that he could always handle himself in a scrap... but there are some things that nopony, not even your uncle, can face. And your uncle... Celestia bless his soul... his biggest flaw was that he didn't quite take stock in that. So... he decided to take his caravan through Cracked Wing Canyon..."
"What's so bad 'bout that canyon?! What's so bad that he had to go and..." Wagon stopped as the sheriff held a hoof up, asking for patience.
"No caravan the size of your uncle's EVER makes it out of Cracked Wing Canyon. Few ponies ever make it out, but from them we know that there's somethin' in that canyon... somethin' dark... somethin' that kills... and leaves no trace. Some say it's cursed, some say Discord himself lives there, that it's a gateway to Tartarus... me, I don't know, and I don't wanna know. All I know is nothin' good comes of goin' through there."
Wagon's mother sniffled slightly, then looked up to the sheriff, tears threatening to start once more. "Th-thank you... for comin' to t-tell us... it means a lot to hear it fr-from you..."
Wagon sat there, trying to console his mother, while at the same time fighting back tears of his own... he was devastated by the news... but... there was something that didn't fit here... he looked to the sheriff, and hesitantly asked, "Was... was there anything else, sir?"
The sheriff nodded. "Yes son... there's... there's still the matter of... Side Track's will and testament."
Wagon sat... he couldn't believe it... he ran his uncle's passing words to him through his head again.
To my favorite nephew, Wagon Trail,
I cannot tell you how proud I am of you. I've watched you grow from a weak, young colt to a strong, hard-working young stallion. I know I used to joke to you that you'd have to work harder to follow in my hoofsteps. But oh was I wrong. You were always ready; you just needed the push, the resources, to get you on your way.
I know you and your ma will be sad. I know you'll miss me. But let me tell you now: don't. I went into this job knowing fully well I could die any day, from any cause. And don't let Swift get you down with his talk of how I never knew when to stop, never knew when I'd met my match. That's a load of dragon dung. I always knew what I was getting myself into. I never took risks without a damn good reason! Never forget that.
Now then, like I said, all you need to start being a caravaneer are the right resources. Well, nephew, take a guess what your inheritance is. Whatever of mine is left over after I'm gone is yours. Wagons, bits, crew (I forgot to mention in that their contracts they had a clause making it so they stayed employed to my next of kin in the case of my death!), all yours! And from the time you've spent with me and my crew, I'm sure you'll be no stranger to the workings of things.
And if it's one of those cases where "nothing was left"... you don't take me for an idiot, do you? I always leave a wagon or two, plus bits, supplies, and a few good mates behind when I do something risky. Wouldn't want to leave you high and dry, now would I?
In any case, it's all yours now, lad. Treat your caravan right, and it'll return the favor. Make me proud as I go to join the Princesses in the Sky... keep an eye out for my star tonight! Ha! Sorry, I know your not the religious type, I just couldn't resist. Well, I suppose that's goodbye then lad. It's been an honor to call you my nephew. And I know you'll make the right choices! Don't let your ma stop you. Chase that dream of yours. Like a phoenix you will rise from my ashes... wow I shouldn't have let Short Cut talk me into writing that... anyway...
Sincerely yours,
Side Track
Sat on the porch of his family home. His mother, while resistant at first, had eventually folded, agreeing to let him go.
"I... I don't want to lose you like I... like I lost your father, or my brother... but... I know that this is what you're meant to do, son... I know I can't stop you... so I... I'd rather us part on good terms... I'll miss you... but this is something you have to do..."
He looked up to the sky, seeing evening approaching. He closed his eyes as the cool desert night wind crept forward. His dreams... his dreams were coming true... but at what cost?
No. You can't think like that! You've got to do this... do this for him!
He turned to head inside. He had packing to do. The next day, he would catch a ride with a caravan heading for La Colte, the place where his uncle had told his standby crew members to wait. The sheriff had sent a letter out to them, explaining the situation. All that was left to do was get there and get started.
Honestly... Wagon was scared. He had never left Trotston before. He had figured it would be about a year, maybe more, before he'd have even gotten started in the caravan business. Instead, he was being thrown right into it. And he had little idea what to expect.
But... he wouldn't let that stop him! He WAS going to do this, and he WAS going to make his uncle proud!
He packed up every bit he owned, a few articles of clothing necessary for traveling and sleeping in the desert, his wrist blade, some bottles for storing water... basically anything he knew he'd need to make it.
Satisfied he had everything, he climbed into bed, and hoped that sleep would come.
Tomorrow... tomorrow would bring the end of one life...
It was past noon, and Wagon Trail wasn't sure of himself anymore.
Early that morning, he had hugged his mother goodbye. He had said goodbye to all his old friends. Almost all of the town had come to see him off. It was a big day for everyone; a member of the community that revolved around caravans going off to not only join one, but RUN one! There were few higher honors.
The sheriff had taken it upon himself to pay for the caravan ride. Dust Cloud was the leader's name. A large, burly pegasus who's coat matched his name. A fairly intimidating stallion, especially with his Wing-blades, those razor-sharp yet light-as-air armor-like blades attached to his wings for combat and defense, glinting bright silver in the morning sun.
It was a modest sized caravan, not as impressive as Side Track's, with mostly Earth ponies working. They had one or two unicorns, about five pegasi, and a single gryphoness. The rest, Earth ponies. They glanced over Wagon without much expression, not seeming to care whether or not he came, as long as he kept out of the way and took care of himself.
Part of the agreement between Sheriff Swift Shot and Dust Cloud was that Wagon Trail bring his own water canteen and food for the trip. They would waste no rations on a pony who wasn't a member of the crew. Wagon had offered to work, but had been turned down. They didn't need foal labor, they said...
Now, after traveling for a few hours, he was doubting whether this was the right choice. His emotions were conflicting. He felt overjoyed, terrified, homesick, nervous... He honestly didn't know what he was right now.
Was this a mistake? Should I have stayed?
He wanted to tell himself no, that this was his dream and he was going to live it...
But somehow he couldn't.
Not being allowed to do much on the trip to La Colte, Trail just trotted with the other ponies silently. The pegasi scouted from above, the unicorn was on hoof in case of a break down, the Earth ponies were pulling the carts, carrying and passing out rations, and basically doing most of the manual labor. It was boring, tedious... but somehow, watching them all working the monotonous jobs gave him comfort.
He couldn't understand it, but the sight of a caravan crew at work always put him at ease, reassured him. It just felt... right, somehow.
Just as he began to feel calm again, that everything would be fine, he heard the shout that he knew all caravaneers dreaded, the shout that drove all the reassurance from him: "Bandits sighted!"
As Dust Cloud began barking out orders to ready for battle, Wagon Trail looked out. There, across the desert wasteland. Five, maybe six bandits. Mostly unicorns it seemed, wielding swords and spears in their aura's. They whooped and hollered wildly as they galloped for the caravan, desperate for any supplies it may carry, not caring who was hurt in the process.
The sight chilled Wagon's blood. He had always known the risks of caravaneering, but to see them first hoof... no amount of wrist blade training could prepare him to actually prepare him to use one in self-defense, let alone to take another pony's life.
The caravan's pegasi dive bombed the bandits, flaring out their blade-edged wings and turning up from the ground at just the right moment, scoring at least one of the bandits with a wound. The group's gryphon pulled out a rifle, one of the strange unicorn weapons that could only be operated by magic or hand, and began taking carefully aimed shots at the heads of the attackers, taking down at least on of them. Still, though, the bandits came forward, slashing and stabbing with their weapons at anything that moved, paying no mind to their fallen comrade.
As one of the pegasi dove again, she was met by the business end of one of the bandits' spears, shrieking in pain as the tip stabbed into her shoulder. She dropped down and was slain by one of the remorseless ponies. And the battle raged on.
Wrist blades came out as the Earth ponies rushed forward in a desperate attempt to hold them off. While normally an Earth pony would be at a disadvantage in a fight with an armed unicorn, these caravaneers had greater numbers than the unicorns. While one Earth pony deflected the unicorn's attacks, the other would try to score a blow with their blade. Sometimes the unicorn would spin around and block this blow or would pull out another blade and fight with two, but the crew's strategy paid off, slaying two more of the bandits.
Only two bandits remained, and they showed no hint of surrender or retreat. They were desperate. They were going to get this caravan's supplies or die trying. That was the way of the bandit, the pony who had lost everything and so had nothing left to lose.
The first of the two wielded two swords, quickly slashing and parrying the attempts to down him by the ponies around him. He had even managed to take down two of the crew members, and seemed as though he would take more. Then, suddenly, a spray of blood burst forth from his head, and he slumped to the ground as a corpse. The gryphon grunted at her kill. "Sorry it took so long. Damn rifle jammed again..."
The other unicorn stood her ground, weaponless it would seem. She glared around at the approaching caravan crew, teeth grit defiantly, looking for any opening. And then her eyes landed on Wagon Trail, who had been watching the battle with a sense of horror, never having seen a pony killed before. She smiled, and an aura flared around her horn. In a flash, the spot she stood in became empty, and Wagon found himself to have a knife at his throat.
"Not another step. Or the kid gets it!" cracked a rough, female voice from behind him.
The unicorn was holding the knife at his throat. She was going to slit his throat, and then he'd be dead and he wouldn't be able to keep his promise. No. No. NO!
That unicorn had made a mistake. She had left herself magically drained from the teleportation spell, and had to hold the knife by hoof. She was a unicorn mare, he was an Earth pony stallion. And his uncle had trained him for this.
In an instant, he flung his head into the direction of the voice, hitting home against her muzzle. In her surprise at the sudden pain, she slackened her grip, allowing Wagon to throw her off of him. And then, before she could get up, he flicked his wrist, extending out the blade, and struck.
As the blade pierced the fallen mare's chest, he winced and felt tears well up in his eyes. He had never taken a life before. He knew he would have to to be a caravaneer, but... he'd never known it would feel this way. This awful feeling of dread, of self-loathing, of sheer horror at what he'd done.
He stared at the blood-stained blade. It had to be done. It was either her or him. And he had a promise to keep. He told himself this... but it didn't help much. He felt a strong hoof touch his shoulder. Turning, he came face to face with Dust Cloud.
"Boy," the gruff pegasus stated, "That was some fine work there. You handled yourself well, didn't let your fear get the best of you. Remember that. I know your first kill can be rough on you..." The caravan leader turned to trot back to the front of the wagons. "But out here, it's kill or be killed. You can't handle that, then you're in the wrong line of work."
The caravan began moving again, and Wagon Trail followed along, head hung in thought. He thought over Dust's words... and doubt lingered in his mind once more, fueled by the blunt words and the image stained in his brain. The image of that mare, lying beneath him, dead by his hoof.
