Equestria Divided: Humans Expac

by Ranger24

Rating: mature
Tags: Alternate Universe, Human, Main 6, Lyra, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other
Length: 59762

For Equestira Divided. They come from many corners, many walks of life, and with many motivations. But one goal for all, the divided lands of Equestria.

For Equestira Divided (uber non canon). They come from many corners, many walks of life, and with many motivations. But one goal for all, the divided lands of Equestria.

Coming from the cold north, desperate to survive, and with Windingos ravaging them come the Nor Menn, savage barbarians who bet all they know and hold dear on victory. They will be but the first as more and more come seeking, lands, glory, wealth and power in a divided Equestria.

Published 2013-07-11 22:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-10 15:58:08 UTC

Preface

Preface:

When I was a filly I used to love listening to old songs and stories. Whether it was the Mare in the Moon, Hearth's Warming Eve, or any other fable I couldn't get enough of them. I guess that where the singing and lyre playing started. I loved old songs and stories full of monsters, romance, and adventure.

Then Nightmare Moon came and my world turned upside down. I'd lost count of how many fillies and colts I'd told about the Mare in the Moon, only for it to turn out to be real. Even though Nightmare Moon was defeated and Princess Luna redeemed a horrible thought had entered into my head.

Just how many other old mares tales were true?

I started doing research, much to my roommates annoyance at times, visiting libraries in Canterlot, Manehatten, Hoofington, and even Cloudsdale once (which took a tricky bit of magic I might add). It started small, researching the origins of various stories. More than a few thankfully turned out to be just that, stories. Then however I found a few very old texts in the royal library of Canterlot that truly terrified me. Stories about Menn, or humans as we in Equestria call them.

Most readers I am sure heard a few stories in their youth that had humans; big clumsy almost hairless creatures with clubs who forced just about anything to serve them or they would eat them. Most would call such stories fanciful nonsense or gross exaggerations of true events. After all? Who would want to walk around on two feet all the time? You would fall over constantly. But in those texts dating back to the very earliest Pony settling of Equestria I learned the truth. Humans weren't just real, they are real.

The text I found was copy of Princess Platinum's Diary detailing the hard fighting to secure Equestria for this land we call our home in truth once belonged to the Humans. Her diary recorded over ten years worth of entries detailing a brutal back forth struggle for the land.

The humans lived up to the legends for the most part, terrifying warriors able to wield their weapons with their awful hands better then we ponies could with our hooves. Few of them had wings however and just as few could use magic. They like we Ponies had (or rather have) sub groups who developed wings, the ability to use magic, or were simple and plain but strong.

This lack of air and magical support however was their undoing. One by one their cities and fortress fell to fast moving Pegasus forces and Unicorn magics. They fought hard to keep us out of their lands and maintain their domination of all the life in Equestria but in the end they were beaten.

The surviving humans, numbering still in the thousands were still a threat however, one that Equestria's founders could ill afford to be allowed to run rampant. So the Humans were given ships and banished from Equestria on pain of death should they ever return. To make doubly sure Commander Hurricane produced a massive storm which scattered the ships, tossing the humans to the far corners of the world.

To our ancestors the matter was settled, the Humans were gone and their was new territory to be settled. No reason to worry about those who were banished forever right? They were wrong. With some difficulty I have gathered information from a variety of sources that confirmed my suspicions. The humans survived, whether or not they thrived is in the eye of the beholder.

Most of the humans settled across the Sea of Harmony to the East, miles of ocean between them and Equestria. The closest of these human groups are called the Nor Menn(North Humans), who are barbarians among barbarians. The land they settled is cold, harsh, little in the way of natural resources, the winters there are far to long and far to harsh for any sensible pony and some say they are getting longer and colder. Rather than unite they divided into clans, tribes, and houses all fighting for what scarce resources are to be found.

Since it is difficult for them to grow their own food they devour the creatures of the wild and the fish of the sea, but even that cannot sustain them in the harsh winters. Thus they became brutal raiders, taking great longships on bloody rampages around the world. These longships may be their only stroke of brilliance as they are reported to be just as capable of sailing on the high seas as they are at navigating shallow rivers. Their raids have struck the Griffons, Zebra, other humans, and other pony nations such as Prance or Mustangia.

In Prance particularly they are feared, even paid massive sums of food and gems to keep their raiders away. The last time the armies of Prance tried to fight the Nor Menn, over forty thousand Ponies were massacred when the Nor Menn obliterated their armies and sacked the city of Reins. This constant tribute of food and gems has sapped Prances economy in recent years, causing famine and civil war, making it all the easier for the Nor Menn to plunder, but less profitable. The Nor Menn are suspicious however, keeping clear of Equestria's coastlines.

It is also said that while they are fierce warriors and brutal raiders they are also skilled metal workers and shrewd traders. They sell loot from their raids to merchants as close as Zebraca for food, textiles, and salt. They also are reported to have a rich culture of songs and stories most of which are grizzly tales filled with violence.

South and to the East of the Nor Menn dwell the people of Themizonica, a militaristic, matriarchal society. By all accounts they are hardliners for the old human empire that existed in Equestria before our ancestors arrived. They have not changed much in the many years since being exiled, improving little upon what was already present at the fall.

The Themizons as they are called are deeply xenophobic by all accounts, hating anyone who isn't one of their own. They have waged brutal expansionist wars upon surrounding nations with mixed success and have a well organize if somewhat out dated military. In all honesty they are a lot like Stormwing only without hooves and even more likely to stab you in the face for looking at them funny.

Further east of the Themizonica is a cursed land called Silvinvania, of which few dare speak of. Silvinvania's residents are said to be cursed by a two horrible plagues which transform them into monstrous beasts, blood drinking killers, or both some say. Traders say ancient evils made their home in the mountain valleys and forests where they settled and did not take kindly to the intrusion.

Most of what I have heard of Silvinvania is either to horrible to contemplate or to wild to be true. Stories tell of occult rites, dark magic, the walking dead, and taxes paid in liters of blood. Few dare to set foot in that dark land and fewer still return from it alive.

Further south and further east are the Sunrise isles, where dwells the mighty Empire of the Sun. It is a strange place, even considering its inhabitants. Tales speak of dragons who fly without wings, of statues brought to life, and great cities bustling with trade and commerce. It is likely the most civilized of the human nations but this is most likely due to stringent laws and harsh punishments for defying them.

The humans there are notable metal workers, have a rich history and culture, and technology to rival house Earthborn. Goods from the east flow through its ports before heading west towards Zebraca and then here to Equestria. Its current ruler, Emperor Yoshiro, was an avid traveler and sailor in his younger days. Thirty years ago he even came within shouting distance of the shore line of Equestria.

The incident in question, commonly referred to as the Balitmare Mariner caused a minor panic in Equestria which Princess Celestia quickly hushed up. A single surviving report from the Royal guard group that escorted Celestia to that meeting states that she came to a stop around twenty feet from the ship and demanded to know what the humans were doing. The Emperor, then a prince of around thirty answered that he was exploring. When Celestia reminded him of the ban Yoshiro pointed out that neither he nor any of his crew had set foot on Equestria and thus had not violated the ban. Celestia let him off with a warning and ordered him to sail back home then covered the entire incident up.

Directly south of Zebraca however is our the fifth and final known human nation, the Sultanate of Turmgypt. The humans there made landfall after Commander Hurricane's storm and quickly resumed the same brutality that got them banished in the first place. They enslaved many of the local residents save for the Camels whom they formed alliances with. For centuries they have waged back and forth wars with the Zebras. Their gains have been slowed however by political infighting and civil war.

Still despite fierce resistance from the Zebra and civil strife the Sultanate has made steady gains. Most of the southern half of Zebra territory has been lost to the Sultanate who are masters of siege warfare and practice dark magics to strengthen their forces. The city of Trotpoli, the most southern city most ponies in equestria have heard of has been besieged no less than six times and fallen four of those times. Further hampering the Zebra war effort the Sultanate employs vast fleets of Corsairs who prey upon merchant shipping.

The Sultanate openly practices slavery in all its forms. They buy and sell slaves from all over the world, in particular Zebras. It is said that an elite force exists within the Sultanates army who are all slaves raised to be elite soldiers to form the vanguard force of the ruling Sultan, called the Mamluks. Most slaves however die cruel deaths of toil and torment.

It is easy for us to look down on the humans; they were barbarians when our ancestors cast them out and for the most part they are still barbarians now. They are still just as cruel and violent as before. But when I look at Equestria now I wonder if we can truly claim to be civilized? Can we truly say that we are above the evils they commit anymore?

Equestria is now a divided land, split between five houses and a cult all vying for supremacy. Moon and Stars enslave and brutalize anyone who isn't a unicorn, Stormwing flooded Ponyville and killed hundreds of innocent ponies, Earthborn has declared what is essentially genocide against all unicorns, Everfree is a mass of wild barbarians who would tear down everything our ancestors built, we of Whitegold casually play all sides off each other for profit and power, and the Cult of Laughter needs no explanation for their evils. We cast the humans out for the same evils that are now committed on an almost daily basis now by ponies upon other ponies.

Have we fallen so low? Were Celestia and Luna the only things holding our lands together? Are the ideas of harmony that we once lauded truly so hollow? Who are the civilized ones and who are the barbarians?

Lyra Heartstrings, Former House Whitegold Scholar, "Humans: Beyond the Legends."

Author's Note

So there's the Preface to this story. The first true meaty glory comes out tomorrow. Enjoy, and leave comments below.

Windingos on the wind

Snow above, snow below, snow in his eyes, upon his eye brows, his shoulders, and his boots. In his heart Ardon Weavstar prayed that Skadi, the Goddess of Winter, Hunting, and the Winter Harvest, would relent and allow spring to finally come. The mistress snow had reigned over these lands for almost nine months now, longer than any winter previously. It had been so long he had started to forget what living grass looked like.

Ardon was Nor Menn of twenty one winters, tall with dark hair and eyes. He was dressed heavily to ward off the cold, double pairs of socks, fur lined leather bots, gloves of reindeer hide, a heavy coat and thick breeches which went over his shirt of mail, a large gray green cloak covered in snow flakes and the hood up over a black wool cap, and a black scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth. At his side hung the bastard sword that told any who might meet him of his status as a Wanderer; a mercenary, clanless, lordless, a man free to choose his fate.

He was making his way through the forest towards a village he knew was not much more than a days march away. Winter was deadly to those alone in the wild even as equipped and experienced as he was. He had failed to find a captain to raid with for the season losing out on the chance to win glory, gold, and food. So he had been forced to wander from village to village, holdfast to holdfast, hall to hall in search of work, a warm meal, and a soft bed.

By the laws of curtesy if some one allowed him into their home, granted him mead and bread they were bound to allow him or any other visitor to stay for three days. He would be fed and allowed to sleep indoors so long as he observed the codes of conduct demanded of a guest. He would honor and respect his host; praise their kindness, the beauty of their daughters, the valor of their sons, and the quality of their mead.

When the three days were up however it was up to the host as to whether the guest could stay longer. This late into winter he usually got turned out unless he could provide some service in exchange for the hospitality. Sometimes he would hunt for them, but so late into winter game was scarce. If they were a tribal chieftain or a lord he might fight for them for however long they required but the limit he could serve any one master was one season.

It was almost an hour before the trees began to thin and he saw the first signs of civilization. Cut trees, cleared brush, the odd channel in the snow made by a person. Sure enough he saw thin lines of dark gray and black smoke rising through the trees and he pressed on.

At last he came upon a large clearing in the forest at the center of which was a small village. The village was surrounded by a moat ditch about five feet deep and raised mound of earth three feet high topped by a wooden palisade made of twelve foot high tree trunks that had their tops sharpened into points to prevent foes from scaling them. A few flimsy looking watch towers were spaced around the palisade, most simply raised platforms for archers to shoot from.

He approached the single gate of the village which was guarded by two such towers both manned by snow covered watchmen with armed wit hunting bows and boiled leather jerkins and helms for armor. A single sentry with a hand axe, a proper round shield, old mail, and studded helm stood at the gate. The Sentry raised up a hand for him to stop while the archers brought up their bows but did not notch arrows.

"Hold there stranger," the Sentry ordered. "Who are you and what brings you to Strennhold?"

"I am Ardon Weavstar and I am a Wanderer," he answered pulling down his scarf so the Sentry could hear him better. "I come for fire, food, mead, a soft bed, and a break from all the snow."

The Sentry lowered his hand and the archers lowered their bows.

"You will find little food or mead here Wanderer," the Sentry said. "Winter has been hard upon us. We will not turn you away however without our chieftain's say so."

Ardon nodded in response.

"It may be that I can help with that," he replied. "I'm a fair enough hunter and a skilled enough swordsmen if your lord would have me."

The Sentry nodded and then pushed open the gates. Ardon followed him inside the village which was small, only around two dozen cabins with thatch roofs that needed replacing. As the Sentry lead him through the narrow paths between buildings he noticed few barns, shops, only a single black smith, one tavern, and a half dozen glass gardens. Glass Gardens were Skadi's mercy from the winter cold for she had given the Nor Menn the knowledge of how to grow precious crops and herbs in doors. The glass walls were inscribed with runes of fire to keep the crops inside alive even in the most bitter winter. Few people were outside their homes most having retreated indoors despite night still being an hour or so away.

Near the rear of the village however was a raised mound of earth with a great hall built a top it. Compared to the homes of other lords and Chieftains he had known this was small by comparison. Despite its size it still gave off a warm and strong feeling that one needed to survive the bitter cold of the north. The Sentry lead him up the path to the double doors of the hall which were flanked by two more guards warming themselves by burning braziers.

These two guards were not local militia like the sentry but Huskrals, the personal retainers of a chieftain. They wore iron helms with mail extending down from the cheek guards to protect their necks, double layered mail tunics covered their chests, upper arms, and thighs, heavy boots and gloves with squares of iron on them, large dark cloaks of red were on their backs, and hardened leather breast plates went over the mail. They each bore a large kite shields painted red and with a gray hammer device. Each held a tall spear with a steel tip and girt at the side of each was a longsword.

The Huskrals nodded to the Sentry by way of greeting but Ardon knew their eyes were on him. At least he knew the Chieftain trained his men well for their jobs.

The Sentry pushed the doors open and Ardon followed him inside. The great hall was large and open, a few tables and benches lining the hall. A few more Huskrals lined the hall, tall and straight. At the far end on a raised stone dais was a throne of Spruce wood upon which sat a man with bald head, a blonde beard, and a hammer at his side who was speaking to red haired person in violet robes. Both turned as Ardon and the Sentry entered. Ardon quickly noticed the pointed ears and green eyes of the second person, a Dökkálfar and judging from the robes a Sorcerer at that.

Now far more wary Ardon knelt down beside the Sentry when they reached the dais. He quickly lowered his hood and removed his hat, it was impolite to hid your face from your potential host and employer. He drew out his sword and placed the steel blade on the floor before him.

"Rise Tarnus," the bald and bearded man said. "Who do you bring before me?"

"My lord Sternn," the Sentry Tarnus answered, "this is Ardon Weavstar, a Wanderer come seeking shelter and service."

"Well met my lord," Ardon greeted.

Lord Strenn stroked his beard thoughtfully. The Dökkálfar leaned down to whisper something but the bald chieftain waved him off.

"Well met indeed Wanderer," he said in a gruff voice. "I welcome you to my hall but alas you come to my people and I at an ill time. Winter has sapped much of our stores of food and as it stands I have little use of an extra blade."

"I understand my lord," Ardon replied. "I would be more than willing to aid and serve you however I can in exchange for your hospitality."

"If you mean to hunt for your service to me I am afraid you're out of luck," Strenn answered. "The game has all fled away from the cold or been caught already."

"I understand my lord," Ardon replied.

"I will not however turn you out into the cold," Strenn continued. "In such grim times as this what are we without the laws most sacred to our hearts."

He clapped his hands and a serving girl emerged from an alcove.

"Elis," he said. "Fetch us mead and bread. Two bottles and two loaves." He then glanced at the Dökkálfar beside him. "Unless you wish to dine with us Wernestel?"

"I suppose I shall my lord," the Dökkálfar replied.

"Three bottles and three loaves then," Strenn ordered.

The serving girl bowed and hurried out of sight.

"Tarnus go warm yourself up for a bit," Strenn added. "Then return to your post."

Tarnus rose, bowed, and left the hall. Ardon rose to his feet as a table was brought into the hall by servants along with two chairs. He collected his sword then joined the Chieftain and the Dökkálfar at the table as the first serving girl, Elis, returned with mead and bread.

"My thanks my lord," Ardon said as he accepted his small loaf and bottle.

"Think nothing of it," Strenn replied. "It has been some time since a fresh face has come to my home. Perhaps your coming shall turn my luck around?"

"That remains in the hands of the Gods my lord," the Dökkálfar, Wernestel, said before uncorking his bottle.

"This is Wernestel by the way," Strenn added, "Wernestel Black, my adviser and a Sorcerer."

"Well met," Ardon said before tearing a chunk out of his loaf with his teeth.

"Well met indeed," Wernestelreplied.

It went unsaid that the connotation of the name Black implied that Wernestel was a bastard.

"You speak as though you have had foul luck my lord," Ardon said turning the conversation. "Has the winter been so terrible here?"

"More than that," Strenn replied grimly, his face becoming somber. "My three sons went raiding last season only to be lost at sea with forty of my men. My wife wandered out into the snows three months later and never returned. I am without an heir and not likely to marry again."

"You have my sympathies my lord," Ardon said and he meant it. "Your sons deserved a more noble fate and I grieve for your lady wife."

"Aye," Strenn agreed with a nod. "But that's not the least of it I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?" Ardon asked.

"Last month three men went hunting to try and find some fresh food for the village," Wernestel answered. "None of them have returned. A search party was sent out, lead by the captain of the guard. None of them returned either."

"You suspect foul play is at work?" Ardon inquired.

"Aye," Strenn said with another nod. "We found some of their gear, covered in frost, snow, and ice but no bodies and no sign of a struggle. Did you see any sign of anyone else on your journey here?"

Ardon shook his head.

"No my lord," he admitted. "The wilds are vast and all sorts of things dwell in them, good and ill."

Strenn shook his head grimly. "That's the thing that worries me. I'm not one for children's stories or the words of drunken traders..."

Ardon shivered slightly realizing what the Chieftain was talking about.

"I have heard no word of them in these parts," Ardon said darkly.

"No one ever does," Wernestel replied. "Not until it is to late."

"Bah," Strenn growled taking a swig from his bottle. "I should not worry with my cares, you are a guest."

"That I am my lord," Ardon agreed. "However as a guest it is my duty to aid my host however I can."

"We can talk more of service later," Strenn replied. "For now we eat and drink and be as merry as we can be."

MLP:ED

Ardon was grateful for Chieftain Strenn's hospitality, getting to sleep on a straw mattress was a god send after so many nights of desperately searching for shelter in caves or large boulders. Three square meals a day, meager as they were, was a welcome change as well from hard tack and jerky. He also missed conversation and the cheer of a good drinking song before a roaring fire, the comforts of life often denied him due to his position.

However he could not forget his duty towards his host and quickly offered his aid in searching for the missing men.

"I have no doubts about them being dead by now," the old chieftian said somberly when Ardon brought the subject up again as they at the evening meal in his hall. "They were tough and strong but no one can survive in a winter like this on their own indefinitely, and they vanished weeks ago."

"What would you have me do my lord?" Ardon asked.

Chieftain Strenn waved Wernestel over and the Sorcerer brought out a map of the local terrain for at least fifty miles about the village. There were few landmarks save the odd standing stone or clearing, such was the desolation of the north lands. A single river however cut its way across the map, starting from the north eastern corner and winding its way to the south. Ardon at once knew it as the Redflow, one of the critical rivers that feed life into the frigged lands of the Nor Menn. Strenn pointed to its northern edge with a thick finger.

"That was where we found the gear of my Guard Captain's search party," he stated. "I knew the man for over twenty years, he was loyal and true. He would never have forsaken his home or his Chieftain."

"Did you find anything else at the sight?" Ardon asked.

"Nothing," Wrenestel replied. "As my lord said before there was no sign of a struggle, no animal tracks, no blood, just weapons half buried in the snow."

Ardon nodded grimly.

"I cannot put this down to a dozen seasoned men getting lost in the snow," Strenn said. "Not until I have proof. That is what you shall do for me Wanderer."

"As my lord commands," Ardon replied. "What shall be our terms?"

"Tomorrow you shall be sent forth with fresh supplies," Strenn answered. "You shall had north along the Redflow as far as you will. If you find nothing return within a week and report such and I shall grant you three additional days in my halls. If you find some sign of my men, alive or dead within that time I will give you a week within my halls. If you die may the Gods grant you a place at their side. Should you prove craven." He pulled out his heavy hammer at this. "Then Gods have mercy on you for I shall have none."

"Indeed," Wrenestel said with a nod, then he pulled a small rams horn from behind his back. "If you should find yourself in dire peril this horn. It will carry for many miles and if we can aid you we shall come as swift as we are able."

Ardon nodded and took the horn.

"I accept your terms my Lord," he said. "Gods grant that my eyes be keen, my ears sharp, my heart strong, and my fortune good."

"Gods grace you," Strenn agreed.

MLP:ED

The next morning before the sun was up Webch was speeding his way north. His pack was thankfully heavier than it had been when he had arrived at Strennhold. He made good time across the snow covered ground, picking his way through the brush along abandoned game trails.

By nightfall he had reached the banks of the Redflow river, long iced over and with little sign of thawing any time soon. He found a hollowed out fallen spruce log near the bank which he chose to take shelter in. He set up snares and trip wires about his makeshift camp before making a fire and enjoying a light meal.

The first night passed without incident to his relief and he slept relatively well. He rose early once again and collected his traps, enjoying the thin rabbit that had been caught in one for breakfast, before setting off again following the bank of the river north.

The further north he went however the greater the growing sense of unease gathered about him. He felt as if eyes were watching from from the snow laden trees, none of them friendly. The forest was eerily silent, even for winter in the day time. Few dared enter the deeper parts of the Endless forest even in fleeting summer. Menn told stories of foul monsters in the wilds and strange magic. Only the nomadic clans of Sindarla and the Wanderer's traversed it in winter frequently, chasing the reindeer and work respectively.

The clouds were becoming overcast and Ardon knew that a blizzard was likely to soon be setting in. He found shelter in a cluster of boulders and once more made camp. Before long the snow began to fall and the wind began to howl. Ardon was forced to shelter his small fire with his body for fear of it going out. In the Endless forest, no fire at night meant certain death.

It was near midnight when he thought he heard a strange sound carried by the wind. A whinnying cry like the ponies of Prance he had often raided but higher and colder. Minutes later he heard a distant scream and shouts. He could not dare move however, he would die in a blizzard like this without fire and the wind was to strong for the flames to hold long on their own without his administrations. An hour later the noises died down.

Ardon did not sleep that night.

The next morning once the storm died down, Ardon crossed the frozen river and made his way into the forest in the direction of where he had heard the noises the previous night. He had his sword drawn, cold steel glimmering in the pale sunlight as he moved, wraith like through the trees. It was still snowing and the cold air stung his throat despite his covering.

At midday however he crested a small hill and then quickly dropped down to his belly, the snow muffelling the clink of his mail.

In the small clearing before him were a dozen large covered wagons. He could see posts where torches had been light, benches and tables that had been brought out for a meal, and fallen weapons, shields, tools, torches, and childrens toys lying in the snow. But what he could not see were any people or the Snow Striders that should have been present.

He slithered down the hill into the clearing and with all the stealth he had moved from one wagon to the next. This was obviously in Sindarla clan but from the signs it looked as if everyone had simply up and left in the middle of the night. It was to creepy to be believed if Ardon couldn't see it with his own eyes.

When he pulled open the flaps to the last wagon however he heard a whimper. A crate had been overturned inside the wagon. Sword raised and ready to strike in one hand he grabbed a hold of the crate with the other and lifted it away.

The young Sindarla girl who had been hiding beneath the crate shrieked in fright and tackled him out of the wagon! Ardon's sword flew from his hand and landed in the snow as he crashed into the drifts with girl on top of him. He made to throw her off him but then realized that she was shaking uncontrollably, cyan colored eyes wide with terror, her thin arms wrapped around his chest with a vice grip.

She couldn't be older than fifteen judging from the lack of woad leaf tattoos on her face. She had sandy blonde hair and was dressed in the leather and furs of a training huntress. Her pointed ears each bore a single plain silver loop.

Slowly and gently as he could Ardon pushed the girl off him and sat up. She quickly dashed back into the wagon without a backward glance. Frowning, he retrieved his sword and pulled the flaps open again. She was shivering in the opposite corner clutching to a ragged looking doll in an old dress, tears running down her face.

Ardon set his sword down and kept his distance; the girl was shaken, likely had not slept any better than he had.

"My name is Ardon," he began slowly. "Can you hear me?"

She gave a small nod but did not look at him. She sat there rocking back and forth clutching the doll to her chest.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asked. "I'm here to help."

"You can't help," she whispered, her musical voice shaking as badly as she was. "No one can help."

"Can you please tell me your name?" He repeated. "I need to know what happened here."

She did not answer him, she only let out a small gasping sob, pressing the doll tighter to her chest.

"I have all day lass," he said trying to be comforting but still convey some urgency. "You can tell me at your own pace."

"All day?" She said turning her head to face him, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "No! We have to run! Have to get away! Monsters come back! They know they missed me before but they won't again! No they won't!"

"What happened?" Ardon repeated. "What monsters? What are you talking about?"

She turned away from him again and resumed shaking and sobbing. Keeping his calm Ardon inched closer and set a comforting had on her shoulder, the girl was almost deathly cold.

"Is that doll your sisters?" He asked gently.

She nodded.

"Her name is Misa, she was mine until I gave her to my little sister Telatha when I turned eleven," she said slowly. "That was three winters ago," she choked back a sob. "My name is Neratha."

"Good," Ardon said with a nod. "Can you tell me about the monsters?"

She shuddered again pulling Misa so close Ardon thought the dolls head might pop off.

"They've come twice before now," she whispered. "The first night they took Faesage Elianne, Micha, Fesla, and Ryondal. Second night Caerthon, Gelthas, Wyric, Polin, Sarthes, and Xandir were lost. And last night..." she sobbed again fresh tears spilling across her cheeks. "Last night... Last... Last night they took momma, papa, Telatha, and everyone else!"

Ardon pulled a small rag from his bags and offered it to her. Neratha took it slowly, her hands still shaking and wiped away the tears.

"Who took them?" He asked. "Did you see them?"

She nodded.

"What did they look like?" He asked. "Menn? Sindarla? Dökkálfar? Caladria? Avariel?"

"They were wind and snow," she whispered. "Cold and death. Frozen blood dripping from their lips."

A cold hand wrapped itself around Ardon's heart and he shivered despite himself.

"Windingos?" He whispered.

Neratha nodded.

Ardon cursed and stood up.

"We have to leave now," he said. "Flee south, there's a village there, Strennhold. It's chieftain sent me to investigate this, he will shelter us."

"Everyone is gone," Neratha whimpered.

"And we will be joining them if we don't leave now." He said, picking up his sword and sheathing it. "Take only what cannot be left behind."

He then paused and then turned back to her his face becoming somber once again.

"I'll give you a half hour," he said. "But we must be gone by then."

She nodded slowly still not looking at him. Without another word Ardon slipped out of the wagon and began stripping the others for any useful materials, flint and steel, cooking oil made from animal fat, torch wrappings, a spare bow of yew and a quiver of arrows.

Right on schedule Neratha exited the wagon she had likely called home her entire life. She had a small pack on know and heavy bear skin cloak draped about her shoulders. She had a similar bow with intricate carvings of animals in the wood, a quiver of arrows, and long curved hunting knife with a sigil of deer antlers upon its pommel.

Together they retreated back the way Ardon had come before, back across the Redflow and past his previous campsite. They sped south as fast as their legs could carry them. Every minute or so Ardon would look up at the sky and curse, another storm was rolling in.

"We can't risk a camp," he said when they took a moment to rest. "But we'll need fire."

Quickly he set to work preparing two torches, wrapping thin rags about thick branches and then covering them in oil. It took him a try or two with the flint to ignite the fuel but soon both torches were burning brightly. They each took one and hurried on even as the snow began to fall thicker and faster and the sky became more overcast.

It was almost dark when they passed Ardon's original campsite but he doubted they would make it to the village before dark. The wind began to pick up and the snow came in blinding stinging waves. The cold stabbed at them like daggers and the torches struggled to stay burning. During a brief pause Ardon tied a length of rope about Neratha's waist and secured the other end around his own to keep her from getting lost in the snow.

Their progress slowed to a near crawl as they trudged through the snow trying move through the thick torrents of blinding ice. Ardon was exhausted his stomach growling with hunger and his throat parched and dry. He had no doubt that Neratha was worse off than he was but she continued to trudge along behind him.

It was near mid night and Ardon was all but dead on his feet when he at last heard the sound he had been dreading. The long cold high pitched whinny.

"They've come!" Neratha shouted over the howling of the wind.

"Stay with me!" Ardon barked as he drew out his sword. His fingers felt numb slow and unresponsive as the steel flashed out in the flickering torch light. He heard Neratha draw her knife behind him but they pressed on, forcing their way though the snow drifts.

All around them however Ardon could hear the approaching foe. The champing and whinnying cries were drawing close steadily getting closer and closer. To Ardon's joy however the ground was becoming more flat and regular, and he recognized the approach to the village.

"We're almost there!" He shouted turning to Neratha.

Terror filled his mind however as he saw them moving through the trees driving their thralls on before them. Frozen corpses with bloody lips and dead eyes, menn and Sindarla alike. Neratha fell to her knees in the snow whimpering as the shambling forms of children moved between the frozen dead while the Windingos circled over the heads of their horde. Neratha's torch died as it landed in the snow and her knife slipped from her fingers.

A fire awoke within his heart, not fear but hot anger. He moved himself between Neratha and the advancing horde brandishing his flickering torch and sword alike.

"Back!" He called his voice thin and feeble in the wind.

One of the windingos gave a whinnying laugh and the horde continued its advance. Cold seeped through his veins like ice water as they drew nearer threatening to snuff out burning fury within him.

"Back I said!" He called again but as he did so his torch died in the wind. He was plunged into darkness the only light coming from the eyes of windingos and Neratha who was now sobbing uncontrollably.

Ardon's mind race frantically. He could cut himself free and leave Neratha to die. Sacrifice her to save himself. He rejected this at once, craven cowards were damned almost as badly as those who broke sacred hospitality. Then he at last remembered the horn given to him by Wrenestel.

He dug through his pockets even as he heard the snow crunching as the dead and the windingos advanced upon them. He found it, drew it forth, brought it to his lips and blew. The horn loosed a long, high, and proud challenge; cutting through howling of the wind and chasing the cold from his body. He heard the windingos pause and he used the moment to let the horn fall.

He drew out some flint and struck the flat of his sword with it reigniting his torch with the sparks.

"Back!" He shouted raising the burning brand, his voice stronger. "Back monsters! Back or face my steel!"

The windingos remained uncowed and they advanced with their thralls. They closed in around the two of them hemming them in on all sides. Ardon raised his sword to strike...

Then a horn sounded and a great cry rose up behind them! A fire ball hurtled through the trees and set many of dead a blaze. Mail and leather clad warriors surged up around Ardon and Neratha, weapons and torches in hand. Strenn and his men charged the dead and began hacking and stabbing at them with axes and spears.

The Windingos scattered away as Wrenestel sent another fire ball at them and their hordes began to draw back but not without inflicting some loses of their own. Three of Strenn's men fell in the snow blood spraying from wounds made by tooth and claw like hands. One of the dead made for Neratha but with a single swing Ardon took the wretches head off causing it to crumple into a drift.

It was over in minutes and the dead lay still once more. The storm died down and Ardon lowered his sword. He turned to Neratha who was still kneeling in the snow shaking uncontrolably.

"The Gods were with you Wanderer," Strenn said clapping Ardon on the back.

"Perhaps my lord," Ardon replied.

"Who's she?" The chieftain asked.

"A survivor," Ardon answered. "We'd best get indoors my lord."

"Aye," The chieftain agreed grimly. "This will cause a stir no doubt about."

As the chieftains men set fire to the corpses Ardon took a long last look into the forest. Even though a fire was just starting he shivered. He could hear them whinnying and braying far off into the night.

Author's Note

So there's the first true chapter. Expect another chapter by Sunday.

Ancient Humans

Ancient Humans:

Only so much information can be found about the ancient human society that once dominated Equestria. As stated before much of what is known is passed down through legends and myths which are unreliable at best for accurate information. Princess Platinum's diary and some of the older texts in the libraries of Cloudsdale and Canterlot proved most helpful in this en devour but they mostly focused on the war rather than what the humans were like. Still much can be learned about a culture in the manner in which it wages war.

The accounts of the war speak mostly of two types of engagement that occurred most often. The first were small scale raids, skirmishes, and ambushes which the humans usually won. The second were less frequent large scale battles which almost always ended in favor of our ancestors.

On a warrior to warrior comparison most texts that have survived since the time of the war agree that most humans easily over powered the individual pony. They were bigger, often stronger, and well equipped for single combat. In their lighting attacks swords, axes, and light spears made themselves most evident. Most often they would rush into an attack on our ancestors, scatter them, and then kill them one by one. The humans also turned their skills for making traps and hunting other creatures against our ancestors in such light battles or showering them with missiles launched from a strange device called a bow.

We might wonder why we lost so many of such battles. Our ancestors were faster, probably stronger, had wings and magic. Ancient humans had magic as well and some could fly but not nearly as many or as well as our ancestors. The answer is that they used terror to their advantage, chaos and confusion to gain the upper hand. They'd often strike with superior numbers and relatively quickly most of such engagements rarely lasted more than five minutes according to the stories.

In large scale battles however they formed up into large formations of overlapping shields and spears called phalanx. These heavy infantry would advance in a single group towards our ancestors. Sometimes they would have their fliers or light troops on the flanks or above. In front on front confrontations the Phalanx proved lethal to earth pony infantry.

The phalanxes great weaknesses however were that it was slow, it did not work well over rough terrain or in wood lands, and with troops pack so close together a skilled mage could devastate whole platoons with a single spell. Pegasus forces proved most effective against the phalanx, sweeping in from the sides or above and breaking up the formation. With the phalanx broken the threat it presented vanished as the warriors within it depended on the protection of the fellows shields. With the phalanx broken Earth ponies could put their strength to good use knocking down the clumsy heavily armored humans and beating them into the dirt.

Sieges turned grizzly as well. The humans often built a vast array of fortifications to keep our ancestors at bay. Walls of wood and stone, moats of dirt filled with spikes or sometimes water. Victory usually depened on ancient pegasus forces overwhelming or distracting wall defenders long enough for us to bring up heavy siege and force open the walls or gates. Starving them out sometimes worked but often took months during which they could bring up reinforcements.

Most of the fighting was done south of the Canterlot mountains giving us a good idea of where the bulk of ancient human society was located. With some research I discovered ruins under old cities like Foaledo, Baltimare, and even Manehattan. Indeed some of the oldest streets in Manehattan and bits of sewer are part of the original human city. These sewers suggest knowledge of engineering and sanitation that were well ahead of those of our ancestors at the time. Needless to say I was as shocked as you are to discover the barbarians were the first ones to develop in door plumbing.

A ruin which I suspect to be a temple in Foaledo suggested that the ancient humans worshiped a vast array of deities. What little I was able to translate at the time of the faded and worn inscriptions spoke of a concept strangely similar to our own elements of harmony. These however were not the ones we know of; laughter, kindness, generosity, honesty, loyalty, and magic. These were much more combative elements focused on war, Elements of Battle if you would.

The first is courage; simple enough to understand, bravery in the face of fear. The second is cunning; strategy and intelligence. Third comes camaraderie; the one most similar to our own elements of harmony. Honor is the fourth; the counter balance to cunning. Fifth is hope; another unusual choice for a martial element. The last is simply victory; conquest over foes and the defense of your own. The translations suggested that like the elements of harmony there were a series of relics associated with each element but what these were is lost to the ravages of time.

Further investigations suggested the outlines of the humans political structure. Their ancient empire was ruled originally by a series of Emperors for a long time. The Emperors ruled with near absolute authority likely appointing their relatives and friends to rule over sections of their empire.

However it appears that shortly before the coming of our ancestors the Empire broke down into civil war. This civil war weakened them enough to give our ancestors a critical advantage during the war, picking the warring factions apart and defeating them one at a time. Strangely it seems reminiscent of modern Equestria with the modern houses.

Regardless it seems clear that humans revolved around violence; their cities were fortresses and their religions spoke constantly of battle and war. They seemed to exist only to dominate all life about them, enslaving the creatures of nature, killing them and eating them like the most barbaric of Everfree Tribes. Today their descendants follow the same path of destruction and carnage.

Are we any different however? We built upon the bones of their ancestors, banished them from this land, and today have fallen to the same barbarism and depravity. I fear that our ancestors are looking down upon us now with the same horror and disgust that they once held for the ancient humans.

Lyra Heartstrings, Former House Whitegold Scholar, "Humans: Beyond the Legends."

Author's Note

SO yeah we go info dump, then real chapter, then info dump, then real chapter, and so and so forth. Enjoy!

King's Moot

Two weeks passed at Strennhold during which Ardon and Neratha were welcome guests and friends of Chieftain Strenn. They ate in his halls, slept in his spare beds, healed themselves of fear and exhaustion. Neratha needed the healing far more than Ardon.

She rarely spoke to anyone but the Wanderer, spent most of her day light hours practicing her archery with the guards. In the evenings she would eat quietly and then retire to her chambers and wouldn't see anyone but Ardon. The times he did visit her he found her mulling over a few trinkets she had recovered from her clan, often with tears in her eyes. For the most part he left her to her grief in privacy. If she needed help or comfort he would give it but for now he reasoned that she needed time.

Chieftain Strenn meanwhile had been busy, sending out messengers and ravens to every clan and lord he called a friend to warn them of the Windingos.

"They've never been this far south as far as we know," Wrenestel told Ardon one night as the Chieftain paced before the fire, his face grim as the winter wind. "All the stories say they usually stay up in the mountains further north."

"Looks to me like their moving south then," Ardon replied.

It was then that a servant entered the hall and informed Wrenestel of the return of several Ravens. He immediately excused himself and was gone for some time. The hall was silent as they awaited the sorcerers return, Ardon spent it drumming his fingers on one of the long tables.

When Wrenestel returned his face was grave and a fist full of letters were in his hands. With a bow he presented them to the chieftain who took them and sat back down on his throne. He read them in silence, his face growing darker and darker with each message.

"It seems we are not the first to suffer this blight," Strenn growled tossing aside the letters in dejection. "Every clan and lord I'm on at least amicable terms with says the same thing. All of them are besieged even further out on the isles of Britas."

Ardon grimaced at this knowing full well how dire the situation was.

"Will they call a moot?" He asked.

Strenn shrugged.

"I cannot say," he replied. "It is not in my hands."

A moot, a gathering of all the lords, all the chieftains, all the clans, all of the houses. A gathering of Menn, Caladria, Dökkálfar, Sindarla, and Avariel called only be the priests of the Gods, the Priests of War. It was a sacred summons that was only issued in times of crisis, times when the full might of the Nor Menn was required. Only three times in the long passage of time had a moot been called and each time its results had saved the Nor Menn people.

They had the answer the next morning when during breakfast Tarnus came running into the hall his eyes wide with awe and fear.

"My Lord," he began hastily making a bow. "At the gate there was a..."

Before he could finish the double doors to the hall were thrown open. In walked a man, clad from head to toe in black armor of plate trimmed with gold. Dark mail of the same material as the plates showed through the few gaps in the armors shell. A great helm was on the mans head; black with two horns sticking out of its sides. A great axe was hanging from his back its blade, bone white and catching any light that fell upon it drinking it in.

At the sight of this man all within the hall dropped to their knees and knelt before him. Even the Chieftain got down off his throne and bowed before the stranger.

All were silent as this man crossed the hall, one step at a time, his armor making no sound as he walked. When he reached the Chieftain he motioned for Strenn to rise then removed his helm.

The man was heavily scarred, but a braided black beard streaked with gray still grew from his chin. His eyes were dark and told of countless battles, glorious and terrible. When he spoke his voice was deep and commanding.

"Chieftain Midnar Strenn," he began. "Lord of Strennhold, you are summoned."

Strenn nodded, his face impassive.

"I shall answer the summons," he replied. "With all of my strength and all of my haste."

Thus by dawn the next day Strenn had prepared a small force of his guard, most of his Huskrals, along with Ardon and Neratha, and they had set forth, lead through the forest by the armored man, a Champion of Ragnarok, a warrior for the end times. Time seemed to pass in a blur as they marched. Ardon knew they were crossing massive distances each day but lost count of how many days had actually passed on their journey.

By what Ardon guessed was the third day of their journey however they began to glimpse other parties moving through the forest. Other lords and Chieftains, whole clans of Sindarla and Avariel. All were following their own champion, none acknowledging the others and yet all moving with the same purpose to the same place.

Before long they heard the distant crashing of the waves and Ardon knew they were close to the sea. On the seventh day of their journey they at last reached their destination and all within the party bowed their heads in reverence as they approached the great stone pillar. Odin's lighthouse men called it, the site where their ancestors first made landfall in this frigged land.

About the base of the pillar was a great structure of stone, wrought by skilled hands while the ancient crafts were still strong. It was part temple, part fortress the home of War Priests, the Valkyr Sisterhood, and the Champions of Ragnarok. Odin's Fortress they called it and it was easy to see why.

Gathered about this ancient stronghold was a massive array of camps. Hundreds of clusters of tents, wagons, and pavilions, some vast some small. Fleets of Longships were on the beach each one flying the colors of a clan or chieftain. It was awe inspiring.

Their guide left them to set up a camp and for the next day all of them sat around their campfires in silence. No words were allowed before a moot, no messages or secret dealings. There was to be no violence even though many of the Clans here would likely have been at each other throats under normal circumstances. None dared to break the laws of the Gods in the face of their avengers. For sure enough the Champions of Ragnarok stalked between the camps, silent but ever watchful.

On the second day since their arrival however a drum sounded from within Odin's Fortress and all assembled stood. The Champions of Ragnarok came one by one to each camp and then lead the parties into the Fortress. The came to a great amphitheater with seats rising high up to the walls, enough for all to find a place to sit. The chieftains and lords however were lead down to a circle of chairs that had been prepared. There was Jarl Rhaegastar Dragonsfury, a mighty and respected Jarl, Jarl Robvin Krast, the young leader of the powerful Clan Krast and nephew of Jarl Rhaegastar, Jarl Valkar Hammerhelm a fierce and veteran warrior with a large number of warriors, and Jarl Stannith Furysheart the commander of a massive fleet, dour and grim. There were lords of Dökkálfar Houses of Summer and Autumn. No one said a word until all of the seat were filled

Then the drum sounded again and a line of men in robes and armor emerged from one of the great temples, each bearing a bladed staff, and a great beard upon each face. The War Priests had come and at their head was their wizened leader, Meralf. Ardon and all the rest bowed their heads in his presence for they knew that High Priest of war had signed his own death warrant when the call for the moot had been issued. Such were the laws of the Gods.

A winged Valkyr Caladria sounded a horn and all raised their heads, turning their gazes to the High Priest. He spoke with a deep but creaky voice.

"Brothers and sister," he began. "I thank you for answering the summons as is your duty. The Gods grace us for allowing us to reach this season and guard us in the sanctity of these halls."

"Hail," all of those assembled called in answer to this statement.

"My brothers and sisters," Meralf continued. "My lords and ladies, you have all no doubt heard the tidings. The enemy in the cold, the foe in the night has begun to press us harder and harder on all of our lands. A week ago I prayed to Odin the all-father for guidance. In my dreams that night he gave me his answer."

No one said a word, their eyes fixed on the High Priest as he leaned on his staff.

"In my dreams I saw our lands, our homes, our ships, and our people frozen and dead. An endless winter which summer would never break. A raven appeared to me and spoke of a land far to the west, the lands of our ancient ancestors. The land we know as Equestria."

Everyone shared glances but still said nothing. Equestria was a story told force troublesome children to behave themselves. A pony nation that had driven their ancestors into this frozen land. A ban had been placed upon them that if they dared to make landfall on Equestria they would be destroyed.

"The raven told me that the only hope for our people was to travel west and return to the lands of our ancestors," he continued. "That we must dare the ban and reclaim that which is ours by right. But to do this we would need one warrior to lead us, we would need a King."

There was a collective drawing of breath as the Lords and Chieftain's shared a look. The Nor Menn had not had a single King for over three hundred years. Kings were only crowned in times of great crisis, but if the Gods were ordering them to find a King they had no choice.

"As the sunrises on the morrow," Meralf stated. "We shall discover who our king shall be. I bid you all to retire to your camps for now. Rest my brothers and sisters for tommorrow the great melee shall begin."

A horn sounded again and one by one the Chieftains and lords rose along with their retainers. They marched back to their camps silently.

That night Ardon kept close to Chieftain Strenn. As a Chieftain even as low in the political and power level as he was, he had a chance to become king. The Chieftain ate little and went to bed early, Ardon however knew that sleep would not come easy.

All through the night they could hear the commotion of the Champions of Ragnarok assembling the field upon which the melee would occur. The King or Queen of the Nor Menn was chosen by trail of combat, a massive battle on foot called a melee. Blunted weapons were used but they could still maim and kill.

As the sun rose the next day a horn sounded once again signalling to those who would be fighting that they needed to prepare. Ardon helped Strenn into his armor, heavy plated mail. He wore the traditional winged helm that all would be required to wear in the melee. A round shield bearing his personal arms was strapped to his arm. A longsword was hung at his side and in his hands was the great hammer he wielded.

"Are you ready my lord?" Ardon asked.

The Chieftain shrugged grimly.

"Probably not," he replied. "I'm a few winters to old to wear a damned crown."

"Gods watch over you," Ardon said with a nod of understanding.

It was then that the drums began to sound. The time had come. The group walked with their Chieftain to the field which had been prepared in the night. It was a large open spaced cleared of snow, hard packed earth and gravel. Posts had been driven into a ring about it and at each one stood a Champion of Ragnarok axe in hand. At the end closest to Odin's Fortress a great forge had been built at which the War Priests had gathered along with the Valkyr Caladria. The forge would craft two items this day, the first would be the crown of the King and the second would be the symbol of the King's power, the Sword of Flames a magical weapon that would burn whenever it would taste blood.

Gathering about the ring were the other lords and chieftains. They were clad in their armor weapons held ready, heads held high, and shields ready. Chieftain Strenn left them at this point and stepped onto the feild. He was one of the last to come and as he entered the ring the drum beat quickened. The coals of the forge were ignited and several pieces of metal were brought forth by the priests. Iron, Bronze, Mithril, and Gold for the crown and for the sword one piece of star iron, metal from the Gods themselves. Last of all came the High Priest, Meralf, his face somber and his staff held ready.

No one moved save the priests who worked the bellows to heat the forge and the drummers. Meralf raised his staff high and the drums came to a crescendo that filled the fridged air before falling silent. Then Meralf brought his staff down into the snow and a hundred horns sounded.

A great mass of war cries rose up from the assembled Chieftains and lords. They charged one another in a great mass of howling fury. With a great clatter of steel on steel, shields pounding upon shields, and men crying out in pain the melee was on. The Drums began to beat again and the War priests chanted as the metal workers began their task with alarming speed and diligence. The racket of the battle and pounding of the drums joined together to form a symphony of battle and blood.

No one could look away from the sight before their eyes as the most powerful men and women in the lands of the Nor Menn did battle with one another. One by one they began to drop, mostly the older, younger, and feebler leaders. Strenn went down ten minutes into the melee and was pulled away from the carnage by the Champions of Ragnarok along with the other losers.

Despite his defeat Strenn seemed unphased and turned his attention to battle even as Avariel Healers tended to his injuries. The fighting dragged on and on, stamina and cunning becoming the name of the game as more and more contenders dropped out with various degrees of injury. Broken shields were being cast aside and the remaining fighters were beginning to pair off trying to keep in the battle as long as possible.

All the while the crown was beginning to take shape, a circlet of mithril lined with flames of gold, ice sickles of iron and swords of bronze. The Sword meanwhile was taking shape as well a hand and a half sword like Ardon's. The star iron glowed white hot as it was worked by the smiths. They folded the steel again and again the flattened it out to spread its length again and again.

An hour passed and on and on the chanting, drumming, and fighting went on. Less than a dozen fighters were left and it was clear that they were approaching the limits of their endurance. They had many wounds, torn and battered armor, notched blades, and broken helms. No one had a shield now, focusing all of their strength into two handed blows with their weapons. It was mesmerizing to those who watched, they cheered on those still in the fray even if they had bested their lord.

Another hour passed and the fight was down to three fighters. Rhaegastar Dragonsfury, his ruby encrusted longsword mangled and bent, Robvin Krast, who was limping keeping himself up with his great sword, Valkar Hammerhelm, his hammer's head cracked and ready to fall off. The Crown was completed and was now being tempered, the sword was almost completed as well.

Ardon watched as Krast swung a heavy blow a Hammerhelm. Hammerhelm tried to block with his hammer only for the head to break off entirely. Rather than surrender he smacked Krast in the face with the broke haft, using it as a staff. The blow broke the handsome young Jarl's nose and sent him to the ground. The Champions quickly moved in to drag away the wounded Jarl but Hammerhelm had begun raining blows into the young lords chest. Many cried foul cursing Hammerhelm's lack of honor.

Before anyone could do anything however Rhaegastar was in the fray again and with one swing of his sword split Hammerhelm's staff in two. The blow caused the Jarl's blade to snap of at the hilt. Regardless he pushed his wounded nephew out of the fight. Hammerhelm came at Rhaegastar with the remains of his weapon eyes a light with fury. Rhaegastar knocked away the first strike with his gauntleted fist only to be knocked back by the second strike.

Then Krast shoved his great sword towards his uncle with his foot as the Champions dragged him away. Rhaegastar snatched it up and with a single swing to the chest sent Hammerhelm to the dirt to roars of approval from the crowd. Rhaegastar stumbled to his knee, like his nephew bracing himself with the great sword.

The Drumming came to a stop as did all of the cheering. The High Priest stepped into the ring and marched to the battered and weary Jarl. Rhaegastar turned to face the High Priest, barely able to stand as one of Champions took away the great sword and returned it Jarl Krast. The High Preist came to a stop before the Jarl and lifted the winged helm from his head. Pale blonde hair flowed forth free as the wind picked. All of those gathered about the field went down on their knees and knelt as the High Priest lead the Jarl to the forge. Despite his wounds the Jarl stood tall, refusing to bend to his pain or exhaustion again.

The Sword was almost complete now, flowing white hot, but with a hilt of dragon bone being fitted to it. A single long fang, wrapped in leather and cloth made the grip with the tip of the fang forming the pommel of the blade. The Crown meanwhile was waiting for the Jarl in the hands of the High Priests second, a man with a dark black beard and amber eyes. His name was Garren Hauk, an soon he would be the new High Priest.

The still untempered sword was given to Meralf, who bowed to its makers. Everyone knew what was about to happen and few could not hide their grief. Meralf turned to Rhaegastar Dragonsfury as a pair of beautiful Valkyr Caladria removed his battered plate and mail until he was bare chested. Meralf motioned for the the Jarl to kneel which he did. Then he raised the still burning sword and touched it to the Jarl's left shoulder blade.

"Jarl Rhaegastar Dragonsfury," he began his voice suddenly carrying more weight and all the stronger. "Do you swear before the all-father Odin and all the gods of your ancestors, upon your blood, honor, and soul to guide, defend, and rule your people with fealty and love, valor and honor, justice and loyalty, and wisdom and strength?"

"By my blood, honor, and soul I do swear," Rhaegastar answered.

"Do you swear to show no mercy to those who betray your people, to crush all the enemies of your people, and to enforce the laws passed down to us from Forseti?" Meralf continued moving the sword to the other shoulder, a dark burn marking the place the sword had touched.

"By my blood, honor, and soul I do swear," Rhaegastar answered.

Then Meralf lifted the sword from the Jarl's right shoulder, motioned for him to rise, and then offered him the sword. The sword clearly burned his hands as Rhaegastar took the weapon.

"Then prove your commitment to the gods," Meralf ordered. "Swear to complete the task laid before you, to invade Equestria and save our people. Swear it in my blood."

Rhaegastar nodded. He set a hand on the High Priests shoulder, looked him in the eyes, and raised the sword over the old man's chest. Then he plunged the sword through the High Priests heart, pulling the old man into the blade as if embracing him. Fire roared down the length of the sword as it tasted fresh blood. Smoke and steam rose through the air as Rhaegastar pulled the sword free of the High Priests chest and then eased the old man to the ground. The blade was now burned black, cracks of white however showed the intense heat within it.

Then Garren Hauk, the new High Priest took up his predecessors staff and raised up the crown as Rhaegastar knelt one more time.

"In the name of Odin the all-father," he said in a firm tone. "I hereby name thee," and as he spoke he lowered the crown onto Rhaegastar's head. "Rhaegastar Dragonsfury the first of his name, King of the Nor Menn and King on the Frozen Throne."

Crowned, the former Jarl rose to his feet while the new High Priest bowed before him.

"Long live the King!" Garren shouted.

"Long live the King!" The Lords and Chieftains, priests and Huskrals, retainers and commoners proclaimed with one voice. "Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!"

Human Variations

Human Variants and biology:

As stated previously in this text Humans posses variants or Subspecies just like we Ponies. Just as we have sturdy earth ponies, winged pegasus ponies, and magically attuned unicorns, the humans have their similar groups in differing variations. However these variants do possess similarities to our racial make up.

All humans share a few basic features. They walk on two legs as the stories tell us using strange paw like appendages on their legs called feet to help keep their balance. Their upper set of limbs are called arms and carry similar but more flexible paw like structures called hands. These hands allow to manipulate objects with surprising easy. They are able to use both at the same time more easily, allowing them to use larger weapons than ponies ever could. Their heads are round, with rather flat faces, a large triangular bump for a nose, an oval shaped mouth, two small round eyes, and ears on the sides of their heads rather than the top. They also have manes like we ponies but these are usually kept shorter or are shaved off.

Starting with most basic and most common we have Menn, or basic humans. They have no magic unless they are using some artifact, they have no wings, they would be most like earth ponies. The average human stands somewhere around five and a half feet tall though with some groups this can vary up to as much as six or more feet being the average. They can be told apart from other humans due to having rounded ears.

My studies revealed that these are the most common human of all easily making up as much as sixty percent of the total human population. They are known for having short lives, sixty being usually the oldest they get though some tales speak of them reaching great ages like ninety or a hundred. They make up for this with a high rate of population growth, usually producing between four an three children per family though more have been recorded to as many as twelve. Be cause of their status as the majority they often take charge and are frequently the dominate group with a human population.

Next on the list are Caladria, or winged humans. Unlike or own pegasus ponies they cannot manipulate the weather. Their wings are very large, proportional to the size of their bodies. This can result in large wing spans of as much as twelve or more feet long. They are just as short lived as Menn but seem to lack the explosive birth rate a trait common among many of the other human groups.

The lack of the ability to manipulate the weather may actually explain some of the humans barbaric traits. They are utterly enslaved to the whims of nature having to plan and work everything in around it. They cannot preform a winter wrap up like we ponies can forcing them to wait for the snow to melt, delaying their growing seasons. Some like the Nor Menn work around this by simply raiding during the winter to supply themselves. However this weakness clear puts them at a disadvantage when it come to food production.

The next group of humans are actually split into three sub groups but are the equivalent of Unicorns for humans. These are called the Alfar or elves. Alfar are different from Menn in several noticabl ways that they all share. For one they can all use magic, but with varying degrees of skill. The all have pointed ears an glowing eyes, however the inesity of the glow and the length of the ears changes between groups. The Alfar are also longed lived, though once again it varys between groups. Also they have few children, one or two in a families life time is usually the limit. It is also said that the alfar have keen senses though again it varies between groups.

The first group of Alfar are the Sindarla, or wood elves. They have the lowest magical ability for the most part and the dimest eyes. Their ears are mid length, sharp, dagger like in shape often going straight back. The Sindarla are the shortest lived of the Alfar groups usually only living to be as old as one hundred and fifty, though two hundred is not unheard of. They are the most common of the Alfar appearing the most frequently among human nations.

The Sindarla are often nomadic by nature, having a deep connection with the natural world it is said. Thus much of their magic is nature based, manipulating plants, the earth, and animals. They have the keenest senses, masters of forests and woods, though some take to mountains it is said.

The second group of Alfar are the Dökkálfar, or dark elves. They are noticeable by bright glowing, almost burning eyes and long thin ears, more like antenna. The Dökkálfar are something of a mixed bag of the Alfar. They are the second most common and are some of the second best in magic. They also live the second longest at around two hundred to two hundred and fifty. Indeed coming second in everything but ear size seems to be a defining feature.

The Dökkálfar maybe powerful and intelligent but it is said they lack wisdom, of the other alfar groups along with the restraint. They reportedly experiment with dangerous and unpredictable magics, often to their own detriment. They also rarely take to the battlefield as anything but spellcasters. They are cunning but usually are not cruel.

The third and rarest Alfar group are the Ljósálfar or light elves. They are the rarest and without a doubt the most arrogant group of all. They live the longest at three hundred years, have golden skin, and more up raised ears and the shortest at that. Their great skill however lies in magic, the connection to which they have is matched only by the Magisters of Moon and Stars.

The Ljósálfar are the rarest making up less than five percent of the total human population of the world, found most prominently of in Themizonica. This may be for the best as while they are considered wise they are arrogant to the point where most would want to scream. They always seem to assume that they know better than everypony else and usually they seem to be right, much to the annoyance of everypony else.

The last human group are a mix of all the human groups, like our own alicorns. These however like the near divine power but are more common. They are called the Avariel, or Winged Elves. The possess wings and magic but are not as skilled in either as the Caldria or the Alfar. They have pointed ears and glowing eyes like the Alfar but not to the same degree. The points on their ears are short and more like those of Menn in size. Their wings are also smaller making them weaker fliers.

What makes the so effective is how they combine the abilities of all the other human demographics. Small wings means they use magic to help them fly. Flying gives them a better vantage point from which to cast spells. They also have the physical strength on the level of menn.

While the humans are so divided by nations and different in racial make up it strange to note that while certain races are more common to one area or another they have not broken down along these lines. For the most part each group does keep to itself, minding its own bussiness and tending to their own affairs. When they do interact race rarely appears to be an issue. How I don't know, but I wish I could ask one to explain it for me.

It might help solve the mess Equestria has become as unicorns enslave earth ponies and pegasi, earth ponies rip the horns from the heads of unicorns, and pegasi determine themselves to be the right rulers of the whole land.

Lyra Heartstrings, Former House Whitegold Scholar, "Humans: Beyond the Legends."

Author's Note

Good news for those who hate these little info dumps, this is the last one for a bit as we finally start having some ponies in the next chapter! Enjoy!

Armada

The summer air wafting in from outside was intoxicating to the Stallions and Mares who knelt in silent vigil within the Cathedral of the Moon. The soon to be Knights of Luna were completely naked before the altar depicting a life sized statue of the Princess, carved with loving detail out of a single piece of onyx by the Houses finest craftsmen.

Among them was a black stallion, Armored Mane, ripe for the Knighthood and devoted to the Princess. He kept utterly still his head bowed in prayer like his fellows. When night fell and the full moon rose he and his fellows would at last take their vows and be sworn Knights of Luna. The sword of the Princess of the Night, and doom to all who would deny the power of House Moon and Stars.

Celestia's sun took its sweet time however in setting, drifting lazily down to the horizon in a process that took hours. It would drive anyone mad but the prospective knights refused to move, denying themselves the right to stretch or try to make themselves more comfortable. Such was the discipline drilled into them by their instructors.

At last the light of the sun bide farewell to them and vanished beyond the horizon. Luna's moon at last rose up into the sky, bathing the world in its soothing light. The time was nigh.

An old priest bid them all rise as several full Knights of Luna entered the hall in full battle regalia. One by one he called them up to the altar and one of the Knights would place his sword on the hopefuls shoulders, each in turn as the vows were sworn. One by one the ranks of Luna's devoted Knights grew.

The excitement in Armored Mane's Heart was almost enough to make him jump. He all but skipped up the steps to the altar when his name was called. He bowed his head in reverence to the statue as a Knight placed the flat of his blade on his haunches.

"Armored Mane," the priest intoned. "Do you swear to serve and defend the Royal House of Equestria, until you are released of service or death take you?"

"I do swear."

"Do you swear to protect the glory that Princess Luna has given to us and now bestows upon you?" The priest asked as the blade was moved to his other haunch.

"I do swear."

"Will you defend House Moon and Stars against all threats and foes, foreign and domestic?" The priest asked as the blade was moved to Armored Mane's brow.

"I do swear."

"Then rise," the priest commanded as the blade was lifted away. "Sir Armored Mane, Knight of Princess Luna."

As Armored Mane rose to his full height martial pride filled him. What foe could contend with House Moon and Stars with Knights such as himself at its call? The heathen Cult of Laughter? The savages of Everfree? The Heretics of Stormwing? The Traitors of Whitegold? Certainly not the simpletons of Earthborn! None could threaten or challenge the might of Moon and Stars!

MLP:ED

The smell of animal and human dung, roasting meat, and fresh cut timber filled the massive camp that had gathered about Odin's Fortress. Tens of thousands of Menn, Dökkálfar, Sindarla, Caladria, and Avariel had gathered about the tower, more people then most had likely thought lived in the world. Children ran or flew around the camp sites laughing and playing while their parents worked the tasks assigned to them. Ardon had to raise a hand over his face to keep from being overwhelmed by the confused mass of smells.

It had been two months since King Rheagastar had been crowned and summer had at last come to the frigged lands of the Nor Menn. The raiding parties from far a field had returned with plunder, goods, and more importantly ships and soldiers. The massive fleet now lined up along the beach was easily more than four hundred strong in terms of long ships, over eighty large Dökkálfar hawk ships, and over fifty of the might Dragonturtle war machines. Still more ships would be needed for the exodus, hundreds more, massive ships which the King had ordered his people to build while he and his council of advisers debate within the Fortress on how to go about the task of moving over three hundred thousand people across the sea and invade a a foreign land.

In the more than a thousand years of banishment the Nor Menn had never dared to go anywhere near the lands of Equestria. Any maps they had were centuries out of date and far to delicate. Their one saving grace has a map stolen from a Zebra tribe during a raid far to the west that was only twenty years old. It was written in Zebrican however meaning that translating the script was difficult. It wasn't great intelligence but it was better than sailing blind.

Things weren't prefect however, there had been more than few fights between clans. Some of these had turned lethal. A few had refused to acknowledge Rheagastar as their king or had refused to consider a mission they considered suicide. The King had been busy enforcing order upon his rowdy people bringing the rebels to kneel and the criminals to justice. They also had to wait some time for the whole of their people to gather, hundreds of Wanderers, isolated clans, and Sindarla and Avariel groups who had to be mustered. They also had to feed and organize all of the people towards this new en devour.

Ardon, like other Wanderers who had come, had aided in these efforts anyway they could. He hunted game as the loggers cleared the forest about the Fortress of Odin for miles. He tracked down far off clans and brought them to the rest of the people. With the coming of summer the forests were marginally safer, the Windingos retreated farther north when summer came even if there was still snow on the ground in places.

As he slipped through the crowds towards the Fortress of Odin he bowed his head in respect to the Champions of Ragnarok who were marching in among the clans with their axes in hand. He had been summoned by the King to present himself, for a reason he did not know. The Huskrals at the gate, who bore the Kings crowned dragon heraldry on their shields let him through after quick check to ensure he had no concealed weapons.

The King did not have full run of the Fortress, it was still sacred ground and mostly run by the War Priests, Valkyr, and Champions of Ragnarok. The King held council in Odin's light house in a high chamber that over looked the sea. The Huskrals at the door let him through and he slowly ascended the seven hundred seventy seven steps to the Kings Chamber.

The King was as usual at council. A long table had been prepared for him with a heavy marble throne at its head for him to sit. The throne itself was jagged like ice sickles, and thus called the Frozen Throne. The King of course sat upon his throne while at his right sat his son, Prince Jonn Snowdragon who sat across from his cousin Jarl Robvin Krast. The prince looked much less like his father than one might think, for her was dark haired and had gray eyes. Like his father the king he was handsome and noble in bearing, the sort one expected to be king. Seated next to the Prince was Jarl Hammerhelm who still looked rather cross at having lost out on the Kingship. Across from him was the dour Jarl Stannith Furysheart, Lord Admiral of the Fleet. Many others were present, almost all of whom Ardon had watched compete for the Kingship. It said something that the King could unit such disparate men and women to his banner.

Ardon bowed low as the King looked up at him.

"Your grace," he said.

"You may rise wanderer," the King said before motioning to a chair. "Please sit a rest your weary feet."

Ardon nodded and took the empty seat but remained respectfully silent. The King watched him as did the others of the council, Ardon felt slightly uncomfortable and shifted to try and rectify the issue but it was no good.

"I have heard tell of your actions from Chieftain Strenn," the King began. "He tells me that you dared the wilds and colds of winter to seek his missing men. That you faced down the horrors that threatened us with a young woman in tow."

"Faced down is generous your grace," he replied. "I would have died then and there had the Chieftain's men not come to my aid."

"Regardless you showed great daring and courage," the King replied. "Tell me how many seasons have you raided?"

"A half dozen your grace," he replied. "I failed to find a crew this season."

"And I trust you conducted yourself with great skill and courage," the King asked?

"As much as I could your grace," Ardon answered. "Forgive your grace but is there a purpose to these questions?"

"There is indeed," the King replied. "I aim to name you as Chief Scout of my army."

Ardon blinked for a moment his mouth opening and closing a time or two as he tried and failed to speak. He? Chief Scout?

"My grace I am not worthy," he said and he meant it.

"Nonsense," the King replied with a wave of his hand. "I need warriors like you if I am to save our people. You have skills, experience, and the courage we need to overcome the challenges that we shall no doubt face."

Before Ardon could respond the King looked back down at the table. Spread across it was the Zebra map with several figurines of wood set upon it.

"Now," the King said as though Ardon had always been part of the conversation. "According to our information Equestria is no longer a united nation. A civil war exists with five groups battling for control of the land."

"All the better," Jarl Krast commented. "They'll be weaker and won't be able to bring their full strength against us."

"All the same," Jarl Stannith replied. "They'll likely be battle hardened and experienced. If we cannot gain a strong foothold we will be driven into the sea in three months."

"Which is why we must chose our landing site well," the King continued. "We will need a suitable site, likely one of the Ponies own cities. We drive them out and take it for ourselves."

"I repeat your grace," Hammerhelm growled. "We should strike at this... what is it called again? Manhappen?"

"Manehattan," the Prince corrected in a low voice.

"Right," Hammerhelm said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The city is wealthy from the reports, a perfect staging area for our invasion."

"Manehattan is reported to be a fortress," Krast countered. "We might waste all our strength trying to take it and doom our people."

"When have walls stopped us?" Hammerhelm replied. "We'll go over, under, or through them and sack the city."

"Let us tell our new Chief scout about all of the landing sights that Jarl Heartsfury has proposed and hear his wisdom before deciding," the King replied. "Make no mistake Jarl Hammerhelm Manehattan will fall to us but only when I will it."

Hammerhelm scowled but sat back in his chair. Ardon stood up to get a better view of the map as Jarl Heartsfury pick up a rod and pointed to the first and farthest south.

"This is Colterado," the Jarl explained. "It is under the control of House Earthborn. Our information tells us that the city has an excellent harbor, considerable fortifications, and a large army present. That said it is well positioned on major trade lanes and from it we can attack much of Equestria by sea."

Ardon nodded as the Jarl moved the pointer up the coast to another city with a diamond marker on it.

"This is Manehattan," the Jarl continued. "As Jarl Hammerhelm has told us the city is wealthy and well situated but also heavily defended. Capturing it would utterly destroy one of the main houses of Equestria. The risks are great but so are the rewards."

The pointer moved further up the coast to another city with a star and moon marker over it.

"This is Struttgart," the Jarl explained. "One of another of the main houses main trading cities. It is a center for research from what we have heard, strong magics present. It's well suited to attack deep into one of the most populous regions of Equestria. But its port is poorly suited to the size of our fleet."

Then the pointer moved to one of the farthest north cities on the map.

"This is Saint Trottersburg," the Jarl continued. "Its the closest to us and from what we understand lightly defended as it is unclaimed by any of the major houses as far as we know. It is well situated to attack the coastal region and controls a river that forms Equestria's old northern border. It is however poor and while its climate will be more comfortable than our current lands but still cold."

"What say you Chief Scout?" The King asked. "Where should the hammer fall?"

"Saint Trottersburg," Ardon answered simply, sitting back down.

"Why?" The King asked.

"They don't know we're coming," Ardon replied. "We must keep that advantage as long as possible. Saint Trottersburg is far enough out of the way for us to settle in and fortify before the locals are even aware of us. We can then strike with impunity or having to fear for our noncombatants."

"Wise words," the King said with a nod. "It should also give us a chance to bloody our warriors and feel out our foes."

The King then stood and took the rod from Jarl Stannith.

"Once we are establish our foothold at Saint Trottersburg we will need to move quickly," he said. "I doubt that we can defeat all of Equestria at once, even divided as it is. We must take this one at a time and inflict as much damage as we can with our forces."

He pushed two markers with crowned dragons on them onto the map at Saint Trottersburg.

"I will lead the bulk of our forces in land," he said pushing one marker towards a mountain range. "Into the territory of Moon and Stars. We shall force them into a battle and destroy them." Then he pushed the second marker along the coast line. "Jarl Heartsfury shall take the bulk of our warships and a fourth our troops to pillage and plunder enemy settlements along the coast line." He then pushed the first marker further inland to another river. "We shall then press south causing as much damage as we can the entire time." He moved the marker to another city on the southern end of the mountain range at the mouth of the river. "We shall sack this city here and wait for Jarl Furysheart to join us before continuing south." He moved the fleet marker south down the coast to join with its fellow once again.

"We shall then move to the city of Baltimare," he said firmly moving the markers south to another city. "And then split our forces once again to take Manehattan by both land and sea." He separated the markers once more before joining them together again at Manehattan. "Once Manehattan falls we make our final strike at Colterado." He moved both dots to Colterado in the south. "In the span of a single season we shall have crippled at least two houses and utterly destroyed one. At the same time we will make it impossible for the enemy to counter attack by sea or land."

He looked up his face hard and commanding.

"Equestria will be ours my friends," he said. "Ours to rule, to plunder, to prosper, and escape the horror in the winter winds."

"As the king commands," Jarl Krast stated. "Hail to the King of the Nor."

"Hail!"

Author's Note

More ponies next chapter. Hope you enjoy.

The Calm

There was a sickening smack as the corpse was dropped none to gently onto the autopsy table. The head Forensic doctor shouted at his hapless assistants to be more careful. The slain mare on the table might have once been pretty but it was hard to tell due to the massive number of holes in her body now.

Sheriff Silverstar gave a small sigh as he turned away from the observation window to the pot of coffee that was just about ready in the Saint Trottersburg Militia Headquarters.

Silverstar was a unicorn stallion, with a brown coat and a steadily turning silver mane. He had been married and divorced, his first wife ran off to Appleloosa while his second wife died in a fire. He'd had two children by each of them, hadn't heard from any of them in five years.

Silverstar had served in the Saint Trottersburg Constables since before the disappearance of the Royal Sisters. That was over fifteen years ago. Now he was in charge of the whole cities defense, roughly two hundred fifty militia trying to keep order in a city of eighteen thousand and a countryside that was home to another five thousand. There were another four hundred who had promised to fight for the city in an emergency but that was it. To say he had his work cut out for him was a gross understatement.

Saint Trottersburg had been a small trading city fifteen years ago, the gate way between Equestria and the Griffin Kingdoms. They hadn't had much to worry about beyond noise complaints, toll violations, or the odd drunk. In fifteen years the trade had dried up and instead the city had been flooded with refugees, runaway slaves, deserters, criminals, and worst of all cultists.

Saint Trottersburg had become a superfluous backwater, on the edge of House Moon and Stars' territory. Rarely did their powerful neighbors to the south even bother to check if the city was still alive. Silverstar was actually glad for this as it prevented the trouble Moon and Stars' brought with them. Moon and Stars' thought themselves as the true Equestria while all the rest were traitors and heretics. They also thought anyone who didn't have a horn on their head was lower than dirt.

Silverstar gave a snort of derision at this though as he poured himself a cup of coffee. The true Equestria? Equestria had died fifteen years ago. The Houses and Cult were just fighting over the lands rotting carcass.

Still his own problems were more pressing. Silverstar had to contend with bandits, pirates, raiders, murders, rapes, arsons, and a whole mess of other crimes he could hardly have imagined fifteen years ago but now happened almost daily. Worst of all was the Cult of Laughter which he knew had sunk its teeth deep into his city. Twice he'd been forced to purge the militia of cultists but knew that he could do little about the threat on the streets beyond picking up the bodies and trying to stop the overt acts of mayhem.

The mess on the autopsy table was one such act. Young mare, found that evening in a back alley, her body with so many holes in it you could almost see through her. Clearly an attack by a Smiling Doll, likely a close friend or lover who had turned on the cult and got caught. Both had paid harshly for it. The autopsy was practically a formality.

"Sir?"

Silverstar turned to see a tired looking deputy standing behind him, eyes somber and exhausted.

"How long have you been up?" Silverstar asked taking a sip from his drink.

"Sir I-"

"How long?"

"I just came off the day shift sir," the deputy replied.

"Get yourself home and get some sleep," Silverstar ordered. "Tell me what you have to say then go."

"Yes sir," the deputy said. "We just finished analysis of the crime scene."

"And?"

"Nothing new," the deputy replied. "Just a lot of blood and splinters."

Silverstar gave a small sigh. "I see. Thank you."

The deputy gave him a weary salute then stepped out. Silverstar set down his mug and stared down at te mare on the autopsy table. Equestria was dead and this was the pit in Tartarus where it had been thrown to suffer.

MLP: ED

"Work those bucking legs you mudponies!" The overseer shouted with a crack of his whip.

Rainwalker cursed under his breath as he drove his hind legs into the rock wall of the mine once again, his joints shuddering with the impact. Day in and day out the same stink and filth as he and countless other toiled away in these mines or in the fields feeding House Moon and Stars' military might. While Unicorns sat in their ivory towers with tea and biscuits, the pegasi and earth ponies toiled in the dirt.

Rainwalker was a pegasus pony, with a gray coat and a black mane scared by many a whip lashing. He was young, having been just small colt when Celestia and Luna had disappeared. He had spent almost all of his life slaving away in the Sun Guilds Slave domes. What little time he had spent elsewhere had been spent as cannon fodder for the army.

He'd watched countless of his brothers and sisters in bondage slaughtered without a second thought by the forces of Stormwing and Earthborn. Then after the blood had been shed and the guts spilled across the grass it had been back to the whips and the darkness of the Slave domes.

Everyday he cursed his captors as he drove his hooves against the rock walls of the mines. He cursed them as he laid down his head at night on the filthy flea infested rags they were given to sleep on. He cursed them as he ate the thin slop that was poured out into troughs for the slaves to eat every morning and every evening.

"Don't just stand their gawking! Buck you worthless trash!" The overseer snarled. The whip cracked and a mare gave a cry of pain as the lash struck her back leaving a red gash.

Rainwalker forced himself to watch, drove into his mind the sight of that whipping as the overseer struck again. He had to remember, not for fear but for the day when he would escape. The day when he would pay onto these merciless mules the same torments he and his fellows had suffered ten fold.

As he laid down his head that night he prayed. Not to Celestia or Luna, the Princesses who had abandoned their ponies to the nightmare Equestria had become. He didn't pray to any deity really he simply prayed.

He prayed for an avenging wrath to come and tear down those who oppressed himself and his fellows.

MLP:ED

A chill wind woke the Archmagister from her sleep. She lifted her head from her pillow and glared at the offending open window. Beyond it she could see the protective magical shield that surrounded all of Canterlot.

Her horn glowed with energy and the window closed itself shut.

Twilight slid back under the covers but sleep would not come to her. With a sigh of frustration she pushed herself out of her bed and walked over to the window. Luna's moon was concealed by clouds tonight, though its light still shone down upon Canterlot.

She stepped out onto her balcony and tested the air. A strong wind was blowing from the North east, cold and hard.

MLP:ED

Ardon sneezed. He wiped the gooey mucus from his nose and the pages of the book he was reading by candle light with his sleeve. He'd contracted a small head cold, nothing serious but annoying.

He squinted at the text trying to recover his place. The book he was reading was from Prance. Since the Ponies of Prance still spoke Equestrian he figured he should learn to read and speak the language if he was to be Chief Scout.

"Trotter... has... four... app...apples," he said quietly to himself stumbling a few times over the words. Wernestel had given him a brief lesson on the language, mostly the basic words, the alphabet and the phonetics. He was still having trouble with some of it.

"You mind speakin' a more fittin' tongue sir?"

Ardon looked up over his book at his Lieutenant, a large hairy Raider with blonde beard named Lethrook.

"Feck your ass," Ardon replied, glad he didn't have to address lordlings for once. "Someone on this boat needs to speak pony."

"Bilke can speak pony," Lethrook said. "Ain't that right Bilke?"

Bilke, a bald Raider who was missing part of his tongue made an ugly rasping sound that got a few laughs.

"Watch it ya whoresons!" Oarsmen Fricker snarled. "You'll rock the feckin' ship!"

Ardon eased himself back against his pack and the candles light as the waves lapped against the Long ships sides, in time with the sweeping of twenty five pairs of oars. Ardon's Long ship, the Graybolt, had a crew of seventy five not counting himself. Twenty Raiders from Chieftain Midnar, along with twenty Axe Throwers from the King, and ten regular oarsmen like Fricker. Fourteen Sindarla Clan Hunters had volunteered to join the crew along with Neratha. Last of all were ten Wanderers like Ardon, the core of his Scout Force. All of them were warriors as well as sailors.

About them in the darkness were the well over a thousand ships carrying the entirety of the Nor Menn people for three weeks now. Over four hundred long ships, eighty Dökkálfar Hawk ships, forty dragonturtles being pulled along by the lumbering Great Arks each of which bore five hundred souls a piece along with their belongings and supplies. The King had allowed each family one wagon's worth of supplies and belongings as well as whatever they could carry on their backs.

Ardon glanced along the Long ship to Neratha, who was asleep against the mast, clutching the doll Misa close to her chest. The other Sindarla aboard the long ship had given her kindness but also space, allowing her to mourn. Ardon knew everyone had to be hurting inside as they abandoned their home, leaving everything they had known behind, trusting their fates in the hand of the gods. But it seemed the gods were taking pity on them, no storms or other catastrophes had plagued their exodus thus far.

He looked back down at his book, shielding his candle from the wind with a gloved hand. They were betting everything on the skills of himself and the warriors around him. They were going to invade foreign soil and begin a war of conquest. So for the moment, finding out just what Trotters apples were worth was all important.

Author's Note

Next time we get some action. No that does not mean get tissues and lotion. I mean blood and violence.

I also apologize for this chapter being so short.

Welcoming commity

Lightning Jumper hated early mornings. Being one of Saint Trottersburg's weather managers was a more comfortable job than fighting for one of the house armies but it was still hard work. Long hours, low pay, and small staff pushed the small weather team to their limits most weeks.

This morning was no different. Light showers for some of the farm lands just north of the city throughout the day. Preferably without many thunderstorms. That meant rounding up as many rain clouds as possible to spread out over more than thirty miles of farm land.

And sure enough Lightning Jumper had drawn the short straw requiring him to grab some off shore rain clouds.

It could have been worse he assumed, as he flew towards the coast. He could have been patrolling for cult activity, or keeping an eye on things in the refugee quarter, or really anything that might involve somepony shoving a blade into the back of his head. Still off shore clouds smelled of salt and were often a little more unpredictable than normal clouds.

Still he liked the sea air, and watching the waves rise up against the shore line. It was almost relaxing compared to the hectic life on the land. Sometimes he wondered if he could raise enough money to get the hay out of Equestria and find somewhere that wasn't caught in a massive civil war. Maybe Mustangia, or Saddle Arabia.

He soon reached the beach and sure enough a few heavy looking clouds were waiting for him. He took a deep breath of the clean air before he sped towards the first cloud and got in behind it. It wasn't hard to give it a good enough push to get going on its way inland so he moved quickly to the next one.

Just as he was sending a third rain cloud on its way he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He paused in his work and squinted at it, the morning sun causing some difficulty.

It looked like a ship.

That wasn't as odd as could be. Saint Trottersburg's trade may have dried up for the most part but it was still a good supply point. Merchants, travelers, privateers, and pirates might stop in the port for supplies.

The closer he looked the more detail he got however. The ship had only a single mast and a high prow. Not a trading vessel and not likely travelers. In fact it looked a bit like the Longboats used by the Nhorse Ponies who fought for House Stormwing.

What are they doing out here though? Lightning Jumper wondered. The Nhorse usually kept to the rivers rather than the open seas. Plus the ship was coming from the east and the Sea of Harmony. Then he realized something else was wrong with it.

It was to big to be a Nhorse longboat. Easily double a Nhorse longboats size.

That tore it for Lightning Jumper.

Abandoning his cloud he sped back towards Saint Trottersburg hoping against hope he could make it in time and that he was just seeing things in the sun glare.

MLP: ED

The Graybolt had become a frenzy of activity as soon as the Armada had sighted land. Ardon's Scout force was scrambling to make ready for battle; securing their packs, sharpening their weapons, donning their armor, applying war paint to exposed flesh, and of course praying and or drinking. The tension was so great it could snap the Long ship in half.

The plan had been laid out before they had set out from the North. Ardon's crew would scout the land, find a suitable landing site for the armada, and eliminate any opposition that tried to stop them. The rest of the armada would hang back waiting for the all clear or would leave if five hours passed without any signals being sent up.

Two beacons of dried timbers had been prepared for usage during the mission both of them enchanted by Dökkálfar and Sindarla Sorcerers to burn a different color that would be visible from miles away. The first beacon would burn white, signalling that reinforcements were needed. A second Long ship would be ready with a fresh group of troops. The second beacon would burn red and signal the Armada that the landing site had been secured and it was time to invade.

The point was to be stealthy, avoid a fight unless absolutely necessary. Absolutely necessary meant if they were discovered in which case they were to leave no survivors. Standard procedure for Nor Menn scouts. Of course what weighed on their minds most as they drew near to the sandy beach ahead of them was not the threat of discovery but of an ancient curse all Menn knew of and feared.

It was said that long ago when the the ponies had conquered the ancient empire and exiled the races of menn the ponies enacted a terrible curse to keep them out. It was said that should any more than fifty men set foot on Equestria a great tempest would rise up from the sea, like the great storm of old that scattered them to the winds. This storm however would ravage the world, obliterating every last human in the world until the all were drowned and dead.

Now Ardon and his warriors were about to put ancient pony magic to the test with seventy five menn.

"Steady lads!" Lethrook called, his voice shaking slightly. "The gods sent us on this mission. They wouldn't lead us to doom."

Small comfort that was as they drew up closer to the beach.

The beach they had chosen has about half a mile of open sand with high sharp cliffs on its southern side. Likely seventy yards of sandy beach eventually gave way to a rise upon which forest trees could be seen. It wouldn't do for the whole armada but for a single Long ship it was more than enough space.

They entered the shallows the hull of the Long ship beginning to rub up against the sand. They were less than fifty yards from the beach now and the water was only about five feet deep below them. When they hit three feet the oars were striking sand. Twenty yards to the beach.

Ardon strode up to the dragon shaped prow and could feel the eyes of his men upon him. He stripped off his cloak and set his weapons aside before dropping into the cold waters with a loud plop. One man was not enough to break the ban it appeared.

"Oarsmen," he ordered, "help me get this thing to the beach."

Tentatively the oarsmen, who wore little or no armor dropped into the water with him. They secured ropes onto the hull and pulled as the surf pushed them closer to shore. At two feet more warriors jumped out and helped; Neratha, Lethrook, and Bilke among them.

"Heave!" Ardon called and they pulled as one. One foot deep. "Heave!" Half a foot. "Heave!" Three inch deep. "Heave!"

With one final tug the long ship was on the beach. Its crew of seventy five along with it.

Everyone froze, looking up at the sky, listening to the wind.

Nothing happened.

Several the rest of the scout force in the long ship hopped out onto the beach. Seventy six menn were on equestria for the first time in over a thousand years.

Nothing happened.

Ardon turned to the forest rise to their west. No one was there.

There was not cataclysm, no regiments of armored ponies waiting for them. There was nothing.

He knelt down to the sand and scooped a handful of the stuff into his palm. He rose and stared at for a moment. He had a piece of Equestria, the forbidden land of his ancestors, in the palm of his hand and he still lived.

He couldn't help it. A grin spread across his face and he began to laugh. About him the rest of his scouting force was following suit. Some were laughing, others dancing, a few prayed, one of them was practically crying. Jubulation and confidence swelled with in them.

The Ban held no power over them!

As soon as Ardon stopped laughing however it was time to get down to business.

"Alright you whoresons!" He shouted collecting his sword, cloak, and bow from the boat, tucking a leather iron studded and rimmed helm under his arm. "Get your gear and get ready to move out! Oarsmen mind the boat, see anything on four legs you kill it!"

The Nor Menn cheered their approval and recovered their gear from the the long ship. Bows were strung and ready, swords drawn, axes were in hand, and shields strapped into place. Ardon's force of sixty five was ready to move in minutes.

They started simple, fanning out along the beach looking for a path to follow. That did not take them very long at all. Neratha quickly located a decent sized path into the forest and deeper inland. Ardon gave her a solid pat on the back for that.

They assumed a lose formation as they climbed the rise up to the forest. Wanderers and Clan Hunters keeping to the edges while the Raiders and Axe Throwers took the center. Ardon took his place right at the front of the party.

What Ardon noticed immediately however as they entered the forest was how quiet it all was. It wasn't as thick and messy as the old forests he'd spent his life traipsing through from one place to the next. It was to tidy; little brush was on the ground, there were almost no fallen branches, and he couldn't hear any animal sounds. It felt so... unnatural.

"This place is strange," Fealen one of the Sindarla clan hunters all but whispered. "Everything is to ordered, to clean."

"Reminds me a bit of Prance," Lethrook replied. "We must be near a village or some farm lands. Ponies like it all neat and tidy."

"Keep it down," Ardon hissed. "We're supposed to be avoiding attention."

Then the Nor Menn rounded a bend in forest path and came to a sudden halt. Ardon gave a small sigh and put a hand to his face, trying to hid his annoyance.

"Sorry boss," Lethrook muttered.

"Bit late for that," Ardon growled.

Staring at them, gawking in disbelief were about twenty ponies. Most wore little in the way of armor, padded shirts by the looks of it. No one had a helmet, and the standard weapon appeared to be crude short spears.

Only one of them broke this mold. He (or at least Ardon assumed it was he, he could never tell with ponies) wore a wide brimmed hat, a heavy padded canvas vest with a star shaped piece of metal on it, and padded canvas guards on his (again assuming it was a he) legs. A strange metal objected was hanging from a pouch on his (again assuming it was a he) side. Opposite of this pouch was a wooden truncheon.

Most notable however was that this pony had a noticeable horn sticking out of a hole in his hat. A unicorn, which Ardon knew meant this pony could use magic. Extra caution had to be applied.

The unicorn was the first of the ponies to recover his wits.

"Alright I got two questions for you bunch. Who and what are you?" He (yet again assuming it was a he) said in Equestriain. Ardon was glad for Wernestel's lessons and book now.

"Explorers," Ardon answered back in Equestriain.

"And who might you be exploring for?" The Unicorn demanded.

"Our King," Ardon replied truthfully.

"And who might this King be?" The Unicorn demanded.

"King Rhaegarstar Dragonsfury," Ardon answered motioning with one hand for his force to spread out. The Ponies noticed this and stiffened, some raising their spears others looking ready to bolt. "King of the Nor Menn and King on the Frozen Throne."

At the word menn the ponies eyes widened in alarm and they started whispering among themselves. The Unicorn silenced them with a hard look.

"Well you can tell your King, that Sheriff Silverstar says to leave these lands in peace," the Unicorn said. "We've enough trouble in these parts."

"I am afraid that is not possible," Ardon said. "Our King says we're hear to stay."

"What do you mean by that?" The Unicorn asked wearily. Ardon knew the Sheriff was onto them.

"Well he thought this place would make a fine summer home," Ardon said trying to sound nonchalant.

"I'm giving you one warning," the Sheriff said as his horn glowed. The metal object in the pouch at his side floated into the air. A short thin tube was pointed in Ardon's general direction. "Go back to your boat and go home."

"I am afraid we cannot," Ardon replied darkly. "Our home is dead, and so are you."

On cue axes flew through the air from the Axes Throwers and caught five of the closest ponies dead on! They crumpled with only short shrieks of surprise. The Nor Menn surged forward and the ponies began to break and run. The metal object the Sheriff was holding flashed with light and a loud bang was heard. Something flew passed Ardon's ear and ricocheted off one of the Raiders iron rimmed round shields.

The Nor Menn carved into the ponies closest to them with axes and swords. The ponies didn't even try to fight back beside the Sheriffs failed attack. Ardon's sword sheered through the light armor of one pony, laying open the screaming stallion's back. Within half a minute seventeen ponies were dead or dying on the ground with not even single bruise for the Nor Menn. The Sheriff however was bolting down the path with the three survivors.

"After them!" Ardon shouted.

"So much for stealth," Lethrook quipped as they tore down the path after the ponies.

The Nor Menn were fast on their feet, quick enough to usually catch most pony warriors. These Ponies however knew the layout of the land and had spurring them on. One hapless pony tripped on a root and fell. A moment later Bilke had split the unlucky sods skull with his axe.

Still this momentary distraction had allowed the Ponies to gain a significant lead on the Nor Menn. Ardon muttered a curse under his breath as they rounded another turn and found themselve approaching what looked like a few farms in a clearing. He could see the Sheriff and hear him shouting the alarm.

About thirty more ponies scrambled out of homes, most with little armor on like the initial party. Most had the same short spears as the previous group but others had long shafts of wood and metal that they were scrambling to set up. Ardon guessed they were similar weapons to the one the Sheriff had tried to use against him.

Before the Ponies could fire off a shot however more figures dressed in black masks and wearing light armor poured out of the woods to the south. There were about fifteen of them. Most had knives or black jacks in their teeth or tied to their tails. Without warning they surged into the hastilly assembled defenders and cut several down.

"Sack the place you mules!" Ardon heard one shout. "Easy pickings!"

"I think they're bandits boss," Lethrook observed.

"I don't care what they are," Ardon replied as he saw the Sheriff slip around the bandits down a path leading south. "Kill 'em quick!"

The Clan Hunters opened the fight for the Nor Menn sending a shower of arrows into the clashing ponies. Several
ponies on both sides dropped before the Nor Menn charged in, Axe Throwers tossing their tools of death into the thrashing mass.

Just before the Nor Menn engaged one of the defending ponies with one of the wood and tube weapons took aim at them and fired. There was another flash and a bang, then a Raider, Nem as Ardon recalled, gave a cry and crumpled blood pouring from a hole just above his heart. An arrow from Neratha avenged the fallen Raider as the Nor Menn tore into their foes.

It was just as brutally quick as the previous fight. The Militia crumpled often from single blows by the Nor Menn while the Bandits put up a slightly better fight. The Bandits however were clearly not prepared to fight armored Nor Menn with axes and quick enough most were running, and fast. Arrows and throwing axes peppered the fleeing bandits dropping most of them.

"What do we do 'bout Nem boss?" Lethrook asked.

"Leave him for now," Ardon replied. "We can't let any pony escape us."

The Nor Menn trundled on and soon enough came upon yet another cluster of homesteads and farms not far away. Unlike the previous batch these ponies had some time to organize. Ten more of the ones with the metal tubes and another twenty with spears were waiting for them.

"Get down!" Ardon shouted just as the ones with the tubes took aim.

The Nor Menn dropped just as the volley was fired. The shots whizzed over their heads into the woods. The Nor Menn rose back up again and the Clan hunters answered with a volley of their own. The Ponies had cover however and only about half the arrows hit their marks.

With nothing else for it the Nor Menn charged in roaring out battle cries and waving their weapons. The Clan Hunters covered them with another volley while the Axe Throwers tossed their deadly missiles into the enemy, thinning them out a bit more. They clashed with the Militia just as the second volley was fired. Three more Nor Menn crumpled, one Axe Thrower and two Raiders.

The Nor Menn savaged their foes eager to avenge their comrades. The ponies had little experience with their weapons and their flimsy equipment could not stand up to Nor Menn mail and hardened leather. The Ponies dropped like flies, the Nor Menn ganging up on and overwhelming them with furious blows.

Just as Ardon split the skull of the last survivor with his sword he heard a small cough. Looking up from the corpse of his fallen foe he saw another group of bandits standing there starring at them. They seemed rather perturbed by what they had just witnessed.

"So..." The closest one started. "We're just going to go now..."

The Nor Menn charged temporarily forgetting the pursuit of the Sheriff to attack these no foes. The Bandits turned tail (literally) and bolted down a path leading west, the Nor Menn hot on their heels. Axes and arrows peppered the Bandits rear dropping a few of them.

The stupid ponies lead the Nor Menn into a small clearing with tents, barrels of drink and food, chests of coins, and a few more of their lot. The idiot bandits had lead the Nor Menn straight to their camp.

The Nor Menn punished them for their idiocy with axes, swords, arrows, and a lot of blood.

"Somebody remember this spot!" Lethrook called as they turned to leave the now corpse ridden camp. "There's some nice loot here."

"Back after the Sheriff," Ardon ordered. "He can't have gotten far."

The Nor Menn backtracked to the farms and found another path which lead east towards the shore line. Judging from the tracks on the ground it was recently used by someone or some pony moving in a great hurry.

"This way!" Ardon barked. "We cannot fail the King."

"Why is that?" Lethrook asked.

"Because if we do fail him, at best we die," Ardon replied. "At worst we don't get any ale for the next twenty years."

This horrible thought spurred the Nor Menn on down the path. Ardon could feel his lungs burning with exhaustion and his feet begining to ache after so long with out use only to be thrown into a chase.

"Incoming!" A Wanderer called out.

Ardon dove to the ground just in time as something exploded above him. He felt something small rain on his back and looked up.

Ten pegasus ponies were circling above them dropping or throwing small bombs down onto the Nor Menn. One exploded right next to a Raider and he died with a gurgling shreik of pain as iron nails tore into his face and throat. Another bomb exploded at near waist height for a Wanderer tearing the cloaked warriors chest open.

"Shot them down!" Ardon yelled setting his sword aside in favor of the Longbow. Several Axe Throwers tried to toss their weapons up at the Pegasus ponies only for them to fall back to the ground uselessly.

"How do you like this!" One Pegasus shouted before throwing a bomb at Lethrook. The Raider brought up his shield just in time for it bounce of and explode at the feet of a Clan Hunter. The Sindarla shrieked in pain as she fell her legs blown off at the knees.

Ardon notched an arrow and launched it at the offending Pegasus. His shoot pierced the ponies wing and with a cry it fell to the earth. A vengeful Raider hacked the wounded Pegasi to death with his axe as the Ardon and the Clan Hunters sent deadly arrows flying back at the Pegasi. More bombs fell even as the Pegasi began to drop. An Axe Thrower was killed, along with another Clan Hunter and a Raider.

When the last Pegasus was dead on the ground Ardon did a quick head count and cursed. Nine of his warriors were dead and a few more were injured but still able to fight.

"I hope we don't run into more of those," Fealen commented grimly as they pressed on.

"Some one get the reinforcement beacon ready," Ardon growled as the path turned east. "Wanderers, eyes on the skies."

Thankfully they encountered no more ambushes for some time and soon found themselves on the cliffs they had seen overlooking their original lading sight. Ardon turned his gaze west and cursed. First he saw a much larger beach on the other side of the cliffs, easily large enough for the Armada to make landfall. Second however was a much larger force of Militia assembling. Easily fifty ponies on foot were guarding the point where the beach, the forest, and the path all meet.

"Get the Beacon set up," Ardon ordered. "They've spotted us. Hopefully the reinforcements can flank them."

"And hopefully no more of them damned feathery gits show up," Lethrook growled.

The beacon was quickly set up and within a minute was burning while Ardon formed a hasty defensive position. The Raiders were positioned up front with their shields with the Wanderers and Axe Throwers just behind them. The Clan Hunters he put near to the beacon, with a clear line of fire for the path. Not a moment to soon.

The locals had been reinforced with another twenty Militia and were beginning to advance up the path. It was seventy on fifty six in the ponies favor. Numbers seemed to give the Militia confidence enough to try attacking and Ardon suspected that more Militia and worse more Pegasus forces were on the way.

"Hold you ground lads!" He shouted. "Let's show these fur covered fools how Nor Menn fight!"

The warriors cheered and the archers loosed their first volley. The exposed Militia were packed in so tightly that every shot was a kill or a wound. Bodies tumbled down the slope onto the beach as the mass of ponies advanced, the sand soaking up the fresh blood. Another volley hit the ponies and more dropped but now the Ponies appeared to be inrange to retaliate with their weapons.

Shots flared up and Ardon ducked just in time to avoid a round passing over his head. One Clan Hunter, a pair of Axe Throwers and a Wanderer were not so fortunate. The Clan hunters loosed another withering volley of arrows killing several of the militia's shooters. As dangerous as the knew weapons were Ardon was beginning to pick up on their weaknesses as a fourth arrow volley went out and hit the pony lines.

Then the sight Ardon had feared reached his gaze, ten pegasus ponies were speeding towards them with satchels filled with explosives at their sides. He redirected the next volley of arrows up at them and watched three fall from the sky. The rest however evaded the attack and began to throw charges at Ardon's defenders.

"Shields!" He shouted.

The Raiders brought up their shields and the bombs bounced off them. One exploded in the air, four bounced off shields and rolled down the slopes to explode harmlessly. One land right on an Axes Thrower's head and exploded, killing him and a Wanderer next to him. The last landed right in front of Ardon. Without a second fought he kicked it hard off the cliff and watched it explode in the air.

The Clan Hunters sent another group of arrows at the Pegasus ponies downing four more of them. The lack of armor was causing the ponies to take considerable losses. The remaining three pegasus ponies threw bombs at the Clan Hunters even as the eighth volley picked them out of the sky. One clan hunter dove on one of the bombs, the blast tore him almost in half, splattering gore on their feet. One of the bombs was a dud while the last one bounced right off the cliff.

Before Ardon could relax three Raiders crumpled dead. The militia shooters had gotten off another volley. The Clan Hunters paid them back by wiping them out but the damage was done. The distraction of the pegasus ponies and the shooters had allowed the rest of the Militia to close the distance with the depleted Nor Menn forces.

The Nor Menn Axe Throwers thinned out the first group of Ponies but they were close enough to make an ill disciplined charge. The Nor Menn not to cow away from a fight charged in to meet them head on, swords and axes clashing against spears. Steel Nor Menn weapons carved through the ponies weak armor like a scythe through wheat, the ground quickly becoming splattered with gore and corpses. Still the Ponies were starting to give as good as they got. An Axe Thrower took a spear to the thigh and fell screaming only to get a hoof in his face. A Raider crumpled with a pair of spears in his chest, through his padded and studded leather.

Ardon dived into the fray swinging his bastard sword. He cut down his first opponent with a hard blow to the back of the neck. He dodged a seconds spear thrust before driving the tip of his sword through the ponies large left eye, it screamed in agony until he slashed open its throat with his next blow.

"More come!" Fealen cried out. Sure enough two fresh groups of twenty Militia each along with another ten shooters were advancing up the path.

"Kill their shooters first!" Ardon shouted hewing a pony's head in half.

Arrows whistled passed the thrashing battle line as another raider collapsed with a spear in his face. Ardon swore as he slew another pony. Just how many of them were there and more importantly where were their reinforcements?

As if in answer he heard war cries from below. Backing away from the fray from the moment he looked out and saw another long ship on the shore with a fresh pack of sixty five Nor Men warriors of the same composition of his starting forces charging across the beach. The new Clan Hunters added their arrows to Ardon's own Clan Hunters and ponies began to drop fast.

The ponies suddenly realized they had been out flanked and many began to bolt trying to escape before they were surrounded on two sides. That was what the Nor Menn had been waiting for. They surged forward hacking and slashing at their fleeing foes as the reinforcements gained control of the path. Utterly surrounded some of the militia tried to jump from the cliffs to escape only to fall and injured or kill themselves, those who survived the fall were finished by the new Clan Hunters.

Within minutes every lost one the ponies was dead on the ground. There easily over a hundred and thirty ponies lay dead on the path or on the beach. All at the cost of nine Nor Menn a fourteen to one kill ratio.

It could have been worse, Ardon mused as the warriors worked to clear the dead off the path for use and embraced the newcomers. Those bombs might have blown our lines to pieces without those shields.

Still even with rejuvenated numbers they still had to catch the Sheriff something Ardon quickly explained to the new comers commander. With their objective clear the Nor Menn pressed on passed all the bodies and blood.

They marched back into the forest and soon came upon yet another cluster of farms. Sure enough more ponies were present but there were only twenty of them and they seemed horribly surprised to see the mass of angry Nor Menn coming at them. Several shouted and tried to run only to be slain by arrows while the rest were overwhelmed and cut down by Ardon's warriors.

They advanced on and the path turned east. A minute later they came out clear of the forest at last and found themselves staring across a river at a city with an empty port. The Stone wall surrounding it was in disrepair, in a few places Ardon could see scaffolding and other bits of materials on it where the militia had likely tried to repair the defenses.

"Is that it?" Lethrook asked.

Ardon nodded.

"That's Saint Trottersburg," he replied.

Lethrook nodded.

"Doesn't look so tough."

Ardon frown and looked down at their feet. There many tracks heading back the way they had, come the militia scrambling to defend the city. However another group of tracks were turning south towards the sea and a high cliff.

"The Sheriff went south," Ardon growled.

"How do you figure boss?" Lethrook asked.

"He'd want a place where he could keep an eye on things but still move to stop us," Ardon answered. "We go north towards the crossing and the city and he'd take us from behind."

"So we go south?"

"We go south," Ardon agreed.

Just as he turned south however he froze. There was another path along the side of the main one that rose with the cliffs and was obscured by rocks. Ardon hurried over to it and found fresh hoof prints.

"Clever bastard," Ardon growled.

"What is it?" Lethrook aked.

"This second path?" Ardon said motioning to it. "Likely leads to a position to flank anyone who uses the main path. Perfect for an ambush."

"So let me guess," Lethrook said a small grin crossing his bearded face. "We ambush their ambush?"

"Damned straight," Ardon agreed. "Fealen! Get over here!"

The lead Clan Hunter hurried over to join them.

"Yes sir?" He asked.

"Take your folk up this path along with some of the Wanderers," Ardon ordered. "You see anything you kill it, but quietly as you can."

"They won't hear us coming," Fealen replied with a nod.

With shouted orders the Nor Menn Scouting force split in two. Ardon's group made their way down the path as quick as could be, they had a king waiting on them to kill this damned Sheriff. Ardon didn't want to disappoint the king on his first official mission as Chief Scout.

Sure enough at the end of the rising, sloping, and rocky path was Sheriff Silverstar. He was surrounded by ten nine more dressed and equipped like him. Flanking his group were two more groups of twenty militia looking shaken and scared. Ardon noticed the raised cliff wall over looking the place where the final confrontation would at last occur.

"You murdering dogs," Sheriff Silverstar called, venom in his voice. "What the hay did we ever do to you?"

"Well you did shoot at me," Ardon replied as his group came to a halt less than thirty yards from the Sheriffs force. The Sheriff scowled at him clearly not amused.

"Sorry I missed," he growled. "But this bloodshed ends here and now."

He gave a whistle and twenty shooters emerged from covered positions on the cliff.

"We've got the high ground and superior fire power," the Sheriff explained. "Give yourselves up peacefully and you'll be tried like you were ponies and not murdering brutes."

Ardon grinned.

"Well I must admire your steel Sheriff," he replied. "Murdering brutes though we are, we're smarter than you think."

Arrows whistle from Ardon's immediate left and half the pony shooters cried out in agony as arrows tore into them. The Sheriff looked up in shook as the Fealen's force massacred his support troops. He turned back to face Ardon his face cold and merciless.

"You'll pay for that," he snarled then raised his metal shooting device.

"Charge!" Ardon shouted and the Nor Menn surged forwards.

Axes flew into the pony lines killing many of the Militia and some of the Sheriffs deputies. The Sheriff and his own however fired and seven shots rang out. Once again Ardon avoided the bullet but the Raider behind him was not so lucky. A round bounced off the rim of Lethrook's shield and caught an Axe Thrower in the side of the head. One more Wanderer fell along with two more Raiders before the Nor Menn clashed with their foes once more.

Clan Hunters rained arrows down onto the enemy as Ardon's bastard sword skewered one of the Sheriffs deputies. The Ponies had a determined leader but they were caught in a trap of their own making. The battle was brutal but quick. All of the ponies lay dead except the Sheriff who had two Raiders dead at his hooves.

The Sheriff brandished his firing weapon at the same time as his truncheon which was splattered with blood. The Nor Menn closed in around him but Ardon raised a hand. He alone approached the Sheriff who took aim at him again.

"What do you call that thing?" Ardon asked.

"This?" Sheriff Silverstar replied. "Is my gun. I use it to stop murdering mules like you."

He pulled the trigger with magic.

Nothing happened.

With a curse he tossed the empty weapon aside and brought his truncheon to bear. Ardon frowned at this.

"Come on," the Sheriff snarled. "You won't take Saint Trottersburg by surprise. I've made sure of that. Even if I die here today, I'll have done my duty."

Then Ardon set down his sword and cast aside his bow. Everyone stared at him in confusion as he instead drew a long knife from his boot and brought it to bear in a reversed grip.

"There," he said. "Now we can fight fair."

The Sheriff gave a snort.

"After you," Ardon offered.

The Sheriff charged him bringing his truncheon down in a blow towards Ardon's head. The Wanderer rolled away from the blow then charged the Sheriff, knife ready to strike. Then the Sheriff turned around raised his hind legs and kicked Ardon square in the chest. Ardon was knocked to the ground and could feel bruising under his mail and padded leather.

"I'm taking you out if its the last thing I do!" The Sheriff proclaimed charging towards him.

Ardon rolled away from the charge and scrambled to his feet. All eyes were on the two combatants, the human and the unicorn. The Sheriff turned to face him bringing the truncheon back around and swinging it at Ardon. Ardon dodged the attack but lost his balance. When he threw out his left arm to steady himself the Truncheon cam back around and struck his out stretched hand. Ardon cursed as he felt bones break then tackled the Unicorn.

This knocked the two of them to the ground where they thrashed together, Ardon trying to get his knife into stabbing position, Silverstar trying to buck the human off him. The knife slashed the Sheriff's shoulder haunch just before they rolled over onto Ardon's injured hand. He cursed and Silverstar gained the upper hand, getting above the Wanderer and raising his hooves to smash in the human's face! Ardon thrust upwards!

Ardon's knife pierced Silverstar's belly.

The Sheriff's blows missed and he collapsed on top of Ardon, inadvertently driving the knife in deeper. He moaned as Ardon pushed him off and pulled the knife clear. Blood spilled across the ground as Ardon pushed himself up.

Silverstar struggled to stand, so much blood was pouring out of his belly. He panted heavily trying to keep his his balance as his leg grew weaker.

Ardon nursing a his broken hand slowly approached his dying foe.

"You fought well," he said. "I haven't had a fight like that in along time."

"I'm not... I'm not done..." Silverstar growled taking a step forwards only to stumble. Ardon caught him, letting his knife fall to the dirt.

He eased the Sheriff down, his expression somber.

"Find your gods," he said. "They won't be ashamed to have you in their halls."

"My gods?" Silverstar whispered. "My Princesses are gone... my country is dead... you..." His eyes flickered. "You are just the final act."

"Not the final act," Ardon replied. "We're the beginning of something new."

And with that Silverstar's breathing stopped. Ardon rose to his feet slowly, closing the Unicorns eyes. In silence he retrieved his sword, bow, and knife. Then he turned to his warriors who were watching him in silence.

"This one and his died as true warriors," he said. "The dead from this battle no matter which side they fought for will be treated with respect."

Then he turned to look up at Fealen on the cliffs.

"Set up the second beacon and signal the armada," he ordered. "Saint Trottersburg falls before sunset."

He stalked back down the path until he reached the point where he could climb onto the cliffs. He followed the path passing some of the Clan Hunters and Wanderers on their way down. A few looked at him as he passed but he did not notice nor did he care.

(Play

in the background)

By the time he reached the top the beacon had been light and could be seen for miles. As he gazed out towards the east he saw it coming, the awe inspiring mass. Over a thousand ships speeding towards the coastline, with many Caladria, Avariel, and Dökkálfar on Dragonhawks flying above the Armada. At the head was a great Long ship, double the size of the Graybolt. It was the Kings personal Long ship, the Redwrath.

As Ardon watched the first of long ships came up to the shore and disgorged their cargo of hundreds of fresh Nor Menn warriors. Warriors eager to conquer this new land; with steel, fire, and blood.

MLP: ED

"Strange."

"What?"

"I don't remember inviting them."

"Oh well! The more the merrier!"

Mayor Mare bared her now jagged teeth as she watched the massive fleet of ships approach. The city was beginning to panic; the Sheriff was dead, the militia badly under staffed, and a massive fleet from nowhere had just arrived on their door step. For the Cult of laughter, it was time to party.

Author's Note

Oh man this was a monster of a chapter to write and I loved every moment of it. Battle Sequences are something I always enjoy.

Before any gets mad about so many ponies dying hear me out.

These weren't the house armies but local militia ergo less training, less organization, weaker armor, poorer quality weapons.

The Nor Menn are more experienced fighters, they now how to spot and ambush and have better quality weapons and armor.

The Nor Menn aren't invincible as shown. They are very weak against shooting and air attacks. A shooting air unit as shown is an absolute nightmare.

The bandits ruined the second pony defense line and the second group of bandits screwed it up even worse.

Anyways next chapter the Nor Menn take on Saint Trottersburg and its dark secrets.

Expect delays from here on out however because this is the last chapter I had prewritten before posting. I'll try to set a good pace from now on however.

The Sack of Saint Trottersburg

Bells were ringing just across the river. Ringing wildly and panicked, the heartbeat of a wild beast. The terror of a city knowing it was doomed. Personally Ardon couldn't wait to be past the walls, if only just to stop the damned ringing.

Ardon and his scout force had set themselves up a small camp near the edge of woods, and close to the road that lead into the city. The closest gate to them was separated from them by an single bridge just wide enough for a a wagon or two to cross at the same time. What didn't help was more than two dozen gun wielding ponies on the gate house ready to shoot at anyone who came near.

So while they waited for reinforcements had his hand looked after. He knew enough about healing to set the finger bones properly and one of the Clan Hunters knew some small healing magic. The spell cast would slowly mend his fingers within a day or so, but Ardon knew that he would be unable to properly use his left hand during the coming battle, so no longbow.

The rest of his scout force had erected a small command post out of local timber and the remains of some of the pony farms in the area. It wasn't quiet a proper great hall but it would do for the time being. Plus it gave them some protection from the ponies guns. As an added bonus it gave them a place to store all of their loot and food taken from the farms and homesteads.

Just as Ardon was about to tuck into a small snack a hunting horn sounded alerting him to the presence of friendly forces approaching. He hurried out of the command post, belting his bastard sword back into place to see the new High Priest Garren Hauk approaching with a fresh group of troops behind him. There were twenty more Raiders and another twenty Axe Throwers but also two groups of ten menn with bare hair covered chests, wild beards, each one armed with a large mattock or war hammer, and dressed only in animal hides. Dreaded Nor Menn Berserkers. Close behind them were five women with large spears and belts covered in tools around their waists, Spearwives.

Ardon bowed before the high priest as did many of his warriors.

"Please don't do that," Garren Hauk said, surprising Ardon. "I'd rather not get shot on the first day."

Ardon gave a small smile and straightened up.

"My apologies, your holiness." He said. "I trust you bring news?"

"That I do," the High Priest replied. "His majesty is rallying up the assault force on the beach to attack. However the tides are proving uncooperative at the moment and causing some difficulty. As of yet none of our siege weapons have made it a shore."

Ardon cursed. That was a sore blow to the attack plan.

"We can't just sit here," Ardon growled. "If we do one of the ponies might escape and there goes the element of surprise."

"Several Sindarla clans and Raider units have been sent on ahead to lock down the other escape routes," the high priest replied. "But you are right, the attack must begin soon."

"What does the King have in mind for us?" Ardon asked.

"You are to assault that gate," the High Priest said pointing to the gate they had camped near. "These warriors I've brought with me will help, but may not be enough. Set up a base camp and then launch the attack."

"You won't be joining us?" Ardon asked.

"No," the High Priest replied with a shake of his head. "I am needed at the beach, may the gods guide your blades."

"Yours as well," Ardon answered before turning his eyes back to the gate.

It wasn't that high but the ponies guarding it could cause problems. They'd need to suppress the shooters with arrow fire before advancing, but axes could take all day to get through the gate...

"Hey Lethrook," he called to his Lieutenant. "How's your throwing arm?"

MLP:ED

Chaos ruled within the walls of Saint Trottersburg. With the Sheriff dead, a mass of ships holding position just outside the harbor, and army out of mythology at the eastern gate panic had set in on the city. Some ponies were running for the northern gate or the western gate, others had taken to looting the city. The militia meanwhile were mustering up as quickly as they could and Lightning Jumper found himself among their number, not by choice but by necessity.

Of course there wasn't much left of the militia now, most of their forces had been massacred in the woods across the river. There were only a small group of pegasus ponies left around twenty, about sixty trained Militia, about forty Minute Ponies had been able to muster, and the Sheriffs remaining twenty deputies. Supporting this paltry force were a sizable amount of volunteers; former slaves from Moon and Stars, around thirty local Hedge Knights, a few errant mages who had been kicked out of Moon and Stars or Whitegold, a couple of local Brawlers, and last of all some sixty former soldiers of various houses who had turned deserter.

The worst part however was that there was no one really in charge. The Mayor had sequestered herself in her estate by the Northern gate and the Sheriff was dead. Confusion had set in among the defenders with everyone trying to organize but with only modest progress.

The Hedge Knights wanted to launch and immediate counter attack while the Minute Ponies wanted to hold position. The Mages wanted to start trying out some of their spells on the invaders while the former slaves glared at them. The Deserters meanwhile looked ready to bolt for another of the gates and run.

A quick hope onto the wall gave Lightning Jumper no comfort either. The invaders, or humans if some of the survivors from the Sheriffs party could be believed, had begun construction of a forward base of some sort. They'd set up a wall sharpened tree trunks, driven into the earth to provide cover from the Minute Ponies fire. Behind it the invaders set up what looked like a makeshift workshop and other structures needed to maintain an army in the field. What made it worse was that every now and again a few more of them would arrive to reinforce this first group.

As he hopped back down one of the Sheriffs deputies hopped up onto a picket fence and gave a loud whistle. The assembled fighters turned to face the young unicorn stallion who looked as grim as could be.

"Alright listen up!" He called. "For those of you who don't know my name is Iron Mane. I'm assuming command here."

"On whose authority?" One of the Hedge Knights called causing some mummers of discontent.

"Look," Iron Mane replied clearly irritated. "Does it matter? Some one needs to take command here or we're going to get slaughtered."

"Then what's the plan?" The same Hedge Knight demanded.

"Wait and see what these invaders want?"

There was a chorus of boos at this.

"Oy!"

Everyone quieted down at the sound from the other side of the wall.

"Oy!"

Everypony scrambled up onto the battlements, some flying over the heads of their fellows for a better view. One of the invaders had come half way across the bridge, dressed in a gray green cloak. In one hand he held a staff bearing a multicolored standard which was rather confusing.

"Is anypony in command up there?" He called.

At once everypony pushed Iron Mane forwards. The Unicorn had the grace not to glare at them all for singling him out.

"What do you want?" Iron Mane replied.

"Talk of the commandments of your despair."

Iron Mane blinked in confusion.

"What?" The Unicorn demanded.

"Did I say that wrong?" The invader asked.

"Yeah I think so," Iron Mane replied.

The Invader muttered furiously under his breath for a moment before regaining his composure.

"I am here to discuss..." he continued much slower. "Terms of surrender."

Everypony shared quick looks, a few whispering among themselves.

"Okay," Iron Mane replied. "What are the terms?"

"Open your gates and no pony gets hurt," the invader replied. "Otherwise we will bag the city."

"You'll what?"

"Otherwise we will barrel the city?"

"Still not getting it."

"Otherwise we will crate the city?"

"Sir I think he means he's going to sack the city," Lightning Jumper whispered into Iron Mane's ear.

"I get that," Iron Mane hissed. "Its called I'm stalling."

"Otherwise we will locker the city?"

"Nope still doesn't make sense."

"Otherwise we will sack the city?"

Several ponies gulped and before Iron Mane could reply the Invader noticed.

"You have a half hour to decide," he called. "Or we're carving that gate open."

With that he turned and walked across the bridge back to the invaders camp.

Iron Mane cursed and the whole militia clambered back down from the wall, save for a few Minute Ponies who were staying top side to keep watch.

"What do we do?" Lightning Jumper asked.

"We alert the Mayor," Iron Mane replied. "Its her call. Everyone else stay on high alert."

Lightning Jumper suddenly realized that he had inadvertently just volunteered to play errand boy. That was fine by him, less chance of getting axed.

Quick as could be he sped north. Below he could see the city unraveling, ponies running in the streets with was belongings they could carry, looters forcing their way into homes, and fights breaking out everywhere with no pony able to stop it. In short it was an utter nightmare.

Thankfully it did not take him long to reach the mayor's estate which was built on top of a low hill just inside the wall near the northern gate. It was a white two story building built into the hill with a wrought iron fence surrounding it. Few people ever visited the Mayor's estate unless they were called.

Two Earth ponies were on guard at the gate when he landed. Each one had a large heavy flail clenched between their teeth, their faces concealed by the large hoods they wore.

"I need to see the mayor," Lightning Jumper said at once. "Its urgent."

The two Earth Ponies kicked the gates open with their hind legs in answer and allowed him on through. He galloped up to the front doors and pounded on them repeatedly with his fore hooves. The door opened soundlessly of its own accord and Lightning Jumper stepped inside.

"Mayor?"

"Just a moment now," the familiar comforting voice of the Mayor called from above.

Lightning Jumper shifted his weight uncomfortably from hoof to hoof in the foyer. Something about the place made his mane stand on end. He shivered, even though it wasn't actually very cold inside.

A door opened on the second floor landing and the mayor trotted out, wearing a heavy black traveling cloak. She smiled at him with her kindly old eyes.

"What seems to be the trouble?" She asked.

Lightning Jumper blinked.

"Ummm... the invaders who killed the Sheriff are at the gate and are asking for our surrender," he replied. "The acting Sheriff says you have to make the call on whether or not we surrender."

"Oh is that all?" The mayor said cheerfully trotting towards him.

"Yes Mrs. Mayor," Lightning Jumper replied, the Mayor was now inches from him and smiling. He suddenly noticed how sharp her teeth were.

"Well then," the mayor said.

Quick as a flash a dagger slashed open Lightning Jumpers throat and he collapsed to the floor. He gasped for air feebly reaching up to his no profusely bleeding throat as the Mayor stepped over him with a giggle. The dagger she had slashed his throat with was dripping with blood in her hoof.

"I'm afraid we'll have to decline."

Then Lightning Jumpers mind faded into white.

MLP:ED

Ardon frowned, staring up at the walled gates of Saint Trottersburg. The thirty minute ceasefire was almost up and no answer had been given to his demand for a surrender. All the ponies had done it seemed was keep their heads down and try to feeble attempts to reinforce the gate.

Needless to say he was getting impatient.

His own forces had been reinforced by a considerable amount to around three hundred warriors all ready to assault the gate on his signal. A palisade had been constructed to provide them shelter before the attack, complete with platforms for archers to shoot down any attacking pegasus.

Still everyone was getting antsy, waiting for the word to charge the gate en-mass and see if their plan would work. They killed time by drinking, dicing, playing five finger fillet, but keeping things quiet as could be. The forces Berserkers had gathered up around one cluster of fires sitting in silence, building up their rage to be unleashed.

He checked the hour glass that had been set up to mark the time remaining. The sands were just about to run out.
Then a bugle call sounded from the gate and the watchmen started shouting. Warriors scrambled to their feet drawing their weapons, as Ardon ran to the palisade. By the time he'd reached it the watchmen had started shooting.

The Gates were open and a mass of heavily armored and armed ponies were advancing across the bridge while their shooters laid down covering fire.

"Looks like the ceasefires over!" Ardon shouted to the camp. "Let's show them what happens when they try to play hard ball!"

There was a general cheer from the camp as the warriors rushed to positions. The Berserkers however were way ahead of everyone, charging onto the bridge to me the oncoming enemy head on. The Ponies loosed a war cry while the Berserker roared in fury as they clashed...

"AHH!!"

"SWEET CELESTIA!"

"I WANT MY MOMMY! I WANT MY MOMMY!"

Ardon's face blanched slightly as he watched the carnage that was unleashed upon the ponies as the Bersekers tore into them with their mattocks, smashing open their armor with ease and crushing the ponies within. Many others joined him in watching the horrid spectacle of the Berserkers wrath. Even the shooting stopped as every watched with horrid fascination as the Berserkers tore their foes limb from limb (Literally in some cases).

Lethrook who was now beside Ardon gave a small grimace.

"Should we proceed with the plan boss?" He asked.

"Certainly," Ardon replied.

Just as they were about to rejoin the troops however a wave of Pegasus ponies came over the wall, their devious explosives in tow.

"Archers!" Ardon shouted but the bombs had already begun to fall. Most exploded among the Bereserkers killing or wounding many but they pressed towards the gate which the ponies were frantically trying to shut. Still the distraction allowed the massed Clan Hunters to line up their shots and in a single volley dropped the entire force of Pegasus Ponies.

Once the Pegasus ponies were down the Nor Menn surged forwards with the Clan Hunters redirecting their fire to the ponies shooters. The Berserkers had begun raining blows on the now closed gates, gouging massive gashes into the wood with their mattocks. Still of all the defenses of the city the gate doors appeared to have been well maintained.
Not that it mattered, Ardon had other plans.

As soon as they reached the gates Lethrook's squad of Raiders tossed grappling hooks up at the gate house, letting them catch on the crenelations. Under covering fire from the Clan Hunter's they climbed up the gate house until at last they came face to face with the terrified and shocked ponies above.

The fight for the gate lasted all of five minutes before Lethrook's squad opened the gates and the Nor Menn, crashed on through like the raging sea. The Militia were ill prepared for the sudden Nor Menn onslaught and were rapidly being routed back to their barracks in a chaotic street to street battle. Some of the Raiders began looting the houses in the midst of this but Ardon didn't care so long as the min force remained strong enough to wipe out the Militia.

At the barracks however the defense became more organized. The ponies had established barricades and were using them to provide cover and block the Nor Menn's access. Indeed it quickly became apparent that some form of organization had taken over within the remaining militia forces and they were now fighting the Nor Menn street by street.

Indeed the closer they got the more intense the resistance became. One barricade in particular was manned by the remaining deputies of the now deceased Sheriff Silverstar. A barrage of Gun fire made any advance on the barricade perilous. One particular pony he could see organizing the barricade defense,running from one barricade to the next, a unicorn who occasionally added his own fire into that of his troops.

Ardon could respect a determined enemy but this was just starting to piss him off.

"Some one put an arrow in that bastard!" He shouted over the hail of gunfire.

The trouble was that do to the sheer volume of fire, none of the Clan Hunters were able to get a clear shot. The shots they did get off either missed, hit the barricade or somepony other than the unicorn leading the defense. To say it was infuriating was putting it mildly.

That was until Neratha scored a lucky shot which sailed right into the throat of the unicorn. With their leader dead the ponies morale began to break and with another push the Nor Menn overwhelmed the barricade, hacking down the defenders as they went.

It was pretty much mop up from there on. They broke into the Militia head quarters killing any pony they encountered with ruthless brutality. They started fires, looted stores of supplies, and smashed up whatever they couldn't take. Eventually the fires got a little out of hand and they had to evacuate the premises.

Ardon felt some small satisfaction as he watched the Militia headquarters burn down. With a moment to collect himself he finally became aware of the distant thump of balista bolts firing from the direction of the harbor. Jarl Furysheart, had gotten into position to off load troops into the city no doubt and was providing covering fire from the ships. Other reports quickly reached him by runner that the King was at last leading the bulk of the army to the city, but several clans had gone on ahead to get a start on the sack.

Ardon smiled as he heard that bit of news before turning to his warriors.

"Alright lads," he shouted. "If it ain't nailed down steal it, if it is nailed down smash it, if you can't smash it burn it, and if you can't burn it use your imagination."

"Come on!" Lethrook roared raising a cheer among the Raiders. "Let's loot this place!"

And so the Nor Menn set about their business smashing open the doors of homes and stealing, breaking, or burning everything inside. It was a welcome reward for all of their hard efforts to take the city. Still something bothered Ardon.
Every home that he entered was deserted. He checked with his warriors and discovered that they had encountered a similar lack of resistance. In Prance, the ponies would barricade themselves inside their homes and cower in fear when the Nor Menn came. This was different, the ponies had up and fled it seemed. Ardon's experience in the wilds told him something was up.

Then as he entered a square with a large group of nearly two hundred warriors he heard something aside from splintering wood and Nor Menn war cries.

He heard giggling.

He raised up a hand bringing the whole force to a halt.

"What's wrong boss?" Lethrook asked with a sack full of coins and silverware slung on his back.

"You hear that?" Ardon hissed.

The giggling was getting louder, breaking into outright hysterical laughter. Ardon raised his sword.

Then a massive mob of Ponies burst into the square from the north, hundreds strong easily. Some were armed with makeshift weapons, there were stallions, mares, colts, and fillies. All had the same horrifying grin plastered across their faces. Mixed in among them were what could only be described as shambling corpses, covered in horrific wounds. All of them were laughing insanely.

"Odin's britches!" Lethrook shouted.

"Cut them down!" Ardon ordered.

The Axe Throwers and Clan Hunters opened the fight with a barrage of projectiles. The arrows had little effect on the corpses but worked fine on those that still lived. The axes however split open skulls and tore off heads, proving amply effective against the laughing dead.

With a savage war cry the Nor Menn warriors charged their new foes meeting them head on in a brutal melee. The Bersekers waded into the thickest of the fighting, wildly swinging their mattocks. Raiders struck out with their axes while Wanderers slashed with their bastard swords. Ardon forced his way to the front cutting down any foe in his path, the streets running red with blood.

But the Nor Menn were not having it all their way. No matter how many or how quickly they killed another foe would step forwards to meet them. It was an endless tide of foes that began to slowly grind down the Nor Menn like waves upon the rocks.

Then the roof of a house close by them exploded showering everyone in debris. Before they could understand what was happening another explosion erupted near the rear of the Nor Menn lines as a small iron ball tore into several Axe Throwers. Ardon broke away from the fighting for a moment to get a better look and quickly saw what was happening.

Whoever these ponies were they had set up some sort of siege machines on the outer wall to the west. With these weapons they were bombarding the whole of the city, firing indiscriminately. The Nor Menn's only protection seemed to be the over enthusiasm of the weapons crews and the buildings around them which provided some cover.

A look up at the sky however revealed an even stranger sight. Above the carnage were massive swarms of spectral pony heads, glowing green and giggling madly like their fellows below. Ardon swore violently when he saw them, there was no way they could get air support with those things in the air.

"More come!" Fealen called.

Ardon turned to where the Clan Hunter was pointing and cursed. Another massive swarm of ponies were coming down another side street, ready to flank the beleaguered Nor Menn.

"Take them down!" Ardon shouted and the Clan Hunters and Axe Throwers redirected their fire to the new force. They could only slow the enemy down however and the horde was rapidly closing in the Nor Menn flank, and Ardon had nothing to deploy to stop them!

"Fire for the North!" A mighty voice roared and was meet by a massive war cry.

A huge force of Nor Menn warriors poured into the square from the east, intercepting the fresh wave of foes. There were Huskrals and Shield Maidens, Raiders and Bersekers, War Priests and Sorcerers. At their head however was the King, the Sword of Flames burning in his hand as he tore into the foe. Ardon's weary warriors let out a cheer as their reinforcements arrived and began pushing the enemy back.

Then the King hurried over to Ardon who bowed low.

"Your Grace," he greeted.

"What is the situation Chief Scout?" The King demanded.

"The enemy has artillery firing down upon us," Ardon replied. "Over on the western wall. And we were hard pressed until you came my lord."

"We are hard pressed all over," the King replied. "It seems as though the whole city marches against us."

"What would you have me do?" Ardon asked.

"To take the city street by street in the face of such a foe is futile," the King answered. "We must burn the city down and hope the flames destroy our foes for us. But we cannot bring in Dragonhawks because of the enemies fliers and we cannot risk starting a fire on the ground with the enemies artillery pounding us."

Then the King gave a whistle and three chieftains including Midnar who gave Ardon a small nod by way of greeting.

"Chieftains Soulsplitter, Strgyin, and Strenn will cover you while you take your forces to the western wall and capture the enemies artillery," the King ordered. "Use their weapons against them and scatter their fliers."

"As you will my King," Ardon replied. "Scout force with me!"

With much grumbling the Scout force hurried back onto the streets as the roof tops exploded around them.

MLP:ED

Mayor Mare was grinning from ear to ear as her latest and greatest performance bore fruit at last. Thousands of members of the poor audience had come running up to her mansion begging her to open the gates and let the escape. She gave them an escape alright, the escape of the Laughing Mare's gifts.

In less than an hour she had turned thousands of ponies to the Laughing Mares service and no one had even tried to stop her. It was so funny she burst out laughing again, cackling madly as her hordes poured through the streets of the city they had once called home. She had to give these invaders credit, maybe a nice fruit basket as a thank you gift for killing the pesky Sheriff and destroying his horde of kill joys he called a militia.

The Party Cannons on the wall had taken a bit of time but they were so worth it as they showered the city streets in a confetti rain of shrapnel. The Giggling ghosts had also been tricky to summon but so worth it as they tore apart anypony trying to escape by air. There was no rain checking at this party.

"Give 'em some more," she hollered to her Puppeteers as they raised fresh corpses for the party. "The more the merrier!"

At this her body guard of Revelers broke out laughing, some dropping their flails in sheer delight, unable to control themselves. The laughing became even more raucous as a Party Cannon's ball caused a building to collapse completely. It wasn't a proper party if you didn't break a few things.

She ignored the desire to go and join the fun herself, she was a party planner more than a party pony. She worked best making sure everyone else was having a blast, just like she had back in Ponyville, before it got flooded that is. She giggled at the though of the whole town she had been mayor of completely drowned by its own former weather manager. Flash floods certainly hadn't been on the forecast.

"All we need is some music," she commented. "Shame the stupid Sheriff went and busted up the music factory."
She gave a small sigh.

"Oh well," she said brightening up again, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Screams always sounded better anyways."

MLP:ED

"Keep moving!"

"Incoming!"

"Watch your heads!"

The advance to the western wall was proving to be a grim slog for the Nor Menn. When they weren't dodging incoming iron balls, they were fending off swarms of crazed ponies. Chieftain Soulsplitter and Chieftain Strgyin had broken off their forces to hold them enemy back at a few points leaving Ardon's weary scout force and Chieftain Strenn's forces to press on.

Despite the set backs and delays they were making good time, rapidly closing on the western wall. The battles they passed on the way were grim and bloody, the Nor Menn pouring on the fury as much as they could but barely holding at bay the masses of their foes.

As they rounded another corner they reached what could only be called a slaughter. Nearly sixty Nor Menn lay dead in the street their bodies being tarnished and disgraced by a horde of mad ponies. They were dancing on the corpses, setting them up in strange positions, and in general desecrating the remains.

"We'll handle this," Chieftain Strenn growled, stepping forward with Wernestel at his side. "You lot press on."

"Watch you back my lord," Ardon replied before waving the Scout force on.

Behind them Strenn and his host gave a mighty war cry and charged their distracted foes, Wernestel hurling a fire ball into their midst for good measure.

Now on their own and unsupported the scout force had to move even faster. They were exhausted and battle weary however, slowing them down. They could not afford to rest however, not while their fellows were being bombed and overwhelmed by the abominable laughing dead.

At last they reached on of the towers that lead up to wall only to find it surrounded by a massive horde of ponies all grinning and laughing. Ardon cursed his luck.

"We can't cut through all of them boss," Lethrook said grimly. "The lads can't take much more of this."

"We have to try," Ardon replied raising his sword once more.

The ponies became aware of them now, laughing at them, waving their hind quarters in the air, and making other rude gestures.

That is until a pack of massive Dire Wolves came tearing into them, each one bearing a warrior in furs and heavy mail armed with a great sword. The Ponies laughter died in their throats and turned to screams as the wolves tore into them, ripping them apart with tooth and claw while their riders dismounted and foot side by side with their beasts. At the head of the Dire Wolf force Ardon could see Jarl Krast and Prince Jonn, the cousins, fighting back to back with their great wolves at their side.

"Go on!" The Prince called. "Take out their artillery!"

"My thanks to clan Krast!" Ardon replied before leading his warriors in a charge towards the tower. They cut through the melee quickly and were thundering up the wide easy steps of the tower heading up onto the wall.

At the top of the stairs Ardon encountered a pony wearing a burlap hood with a flail clenched tightly in its grinning mouth. It swung the weapon at Ardon but missed and hit the walls of the tower. The fool clearly didn't realize that weapons that needed to be swung around to deal damage didn't work to well in confined spaces. Ardon shoved his sword through the idiot as punishment.

At last they were on the walls and the enemy artillery was in sight. But between them and the siege weapons were a mass of more of the flail wielding ponies accompanied by several more on strange single wheeled devices holding spears. Ardon had about had it however by this point with these mad ponies.

"Shoot them down!" He barked.

Sure enough the Clan Hunters took aim and loosed a volley of arrows that decimated the enemy lines even as they charged. The Axe Thrower let loose a volley of their own dragging the enemy down to half strength before the Berserkers charged in and smashed down everything in their way. Ardon had to shout to gain control of them again before they at last made their charge towards the enemies siege weapons.

There were about a dozen of the war machines each one manned by a single, each wearing a jesters hat. The Nor Menn cut them down quickly but as they did a sudden thought occurred to Ardon that made him slap his face in frustration.
He had no idea how these weapons worked.

"Clan Hunters," he ordered. "Starting taking shots at the enemy fliers, we got to figure these things out."

"We're running low on arrows sir," Fealen announced.

"Then aim carefully," Ardon snapped kicking one of the war machines in frustration. As he did so however his boot caught on a string attached the weapon. When he pulled his foot back the weapon gave a mighty blast and sent its shell flying straight into the enemy fliers. It hit several of them but didn't take the entire swarm out.

"Okay," he said taking a step back. "Let's try to be."

BOOM!

With another blast Lethrook fired off another of the weapons hitting even more of the enemy fliers.

"Damnit hold-!"

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

"HOLD YOUR FECKING FIRE!" Ardon shrieked in fury.

"Sorry boss," Lethrook said apologetically.

Ardon took a deep breath to calm himself as the Clan Hunters opened up on the enemy fliers. The artillery had taken out some of them but two shots had been clean misses.

"First off," he started. "We don't know how to reload these damned things so we've got a limited number of shots."

"About seven now boss," Lethrook added.

"I can count damnit," Ardon snapped. "Now we fire these one at a time and we actually aim with them."

MLP:ED

"No."

Another cannon was fired blowing more of the Giggling Ghosts from the air.

"No!

Another cannon blast a more Ghosts vanished.

"No! No!"

Another and another and another fired, dropping the Giggling Ghosts to below half strength.

"NO! NO! NO! NO!" Mayor Mare shrieked with fury, foam and spittle flying from her mouth.

Her greatest joke was ruined! Going up in flames before her eyes as the unknown invaders brought in large serpent like bird creatures which rained fire down upon the dying city of Saint Trottersburg. The riders on the creatures backs were firing missiles at the remaining Giggling Ghosts even as the artillery that should have been pounding the poop out of the city was blasting the cults own air forces out of the sky.

Whoever she had put in charge of guarding the artillery was so going to end up as a Smiling Doll for this! It was probably Lame Hoof, the lazy mule!

She was so furious she hardly cared for the cannon ball that blasted down the iron gate to her mansion. She could see from here the burning as her army was scorched into ashes by a massive wall of advancing flames.

"Talk about burning down the house," one of her guards muttered.

She whirled about at this and slashed the Stallions throat open with her dagger.

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" She shrieked.

Her Reveler guards cowered before her as she raged.

"THAT'S NOT BUCKING FUNNY AT ALL!" She screamed. "And the next one of you confetti brains to see it is gets the same fate as Jingle Hoof here!"

The dying Jingle Hoof made a gurgling sound which sounded like laughter. Mayor Mare stabbed him twice more for his trouble.

"ANYPONY STILL THINK IT'S FUNNY?" She roared.

One of the Revelers coughed.

Mayor Mare slashed his throat as well and stabbed out the stallions eyes with her dagger.

"We're getting the buck out of here," she snarled through her sharpened teeth. "Falling back to Featherfall!"

"Um... Mayor," one of the Revelers started.

She slashed that stallion's throat as well and gutted him with her dagger.

"We are falling back to Featherfall," she continued. "Link up with our fellows there."

"Mayor," another Reveler started only for her dagger to cut open his throat as well.

"LET ME BUCKING FINISH!" She screamed. "NO ONE GETS TO TALK WHILE I'M BUCKING TALKING!"

Then something sharp and hard tore into her hind legs and she collapsed to the ground with a shriek. Turning her head to look over her shoulder she could see a group of the invaders thundering up the path to the mansion. They smashed down her Puppeteers, banishing them back into the Astral plane.

Her Revelers charged into meet the on coming foe but they were outnumbered three to one. Desperately she began crawling across the ground, pulling herself along with her fore legs only. Behind her she could hear her Revelers dying one by one, beaten down and hacked apart by the strange invaders. She however was almost to the front door to the mansion, if she could get inside its traps could buy her the time she needed to escape and then-!

She shrieked in pain and fury as something plunged through her back, piercing her spinal column. The blade in her back was pulled out and she was kicked over. She could no see her foe face to face, but she was helpless, she couldn't move her legs or swing her knife.

The creature was tall, dressed in dark clothing with a heavy cloak hanging from its shoulders. Its round head was partially obscured by the hood it wore but she could see its eyes. They were dark and full of disgust. She shrieked at him, spittle and blood flying from her mouth as it raised up a leg.

Then it brought it down on her face, smashing her teeth in and breaking her nose. It brought up the leg back up again then just as quickly brought it back down again and again and again and again. Her eyes exploded like crushed grapes and her jaw broke apart into jagged fragments but still she was screaming in fury. She was still screaming when the creature gored out her brains across the steps of her mansion.

Ardon stood over the ruined corpse panting heavily before motioning for his warriors to set fire to the mansion. Saint Trottersburgs dead burned in the pyre of their own city. The fire burned for three days until a rain from the sea washed it away. Nothing was left but rubble and ashes.

Nothing but the massive Nor Menn encampment being built right across the river from it. Dragonslanding the new city would be called, the new Capitol of the Nor Menn people. A great hold fast would be built upon the bluffs were Sheriff Silverstar made his last stand. The gate closest to the the crossing of the river would be named the Silver Gate.

The Nor Menn would build their new home, but war would eventually call them back to its bloody fields. A siren song none of them could ignore.

Author's Note

Whoa man this took a while to write. I'll be gone for a week starting Saturday but I plan to get some writing done while I'm away.

Nor Menn vs Cult can end badly. The Nor Menn have great offense and such but the cults numbers can easily bog them down. Not to menton all the Cults other tricks or the Pillar of joy. The Nor Menn however have a few tricks up their sleeves as well. There will also be a time skip here of about a month or so with the Nor Menn resuming operations in early fall. And Moon and Stars is firmly in their sights.

Rainwalker's Escape

The fall sun wasn't very bright but Rainwalker still had to squint due to having been forced to live underground for most of his life. He was outside the slave domes for the first time in months, dressed in a ridiculous toga like garment, serving drinks at some magisters Garden party. He glowered at the guests even as they levitated their fruity little drinks from the platter on his laughing.

Couldn't they carry their own damned drinks? He thought bitterly.

When the platter was empty he walked back over to the kitchens to get a fresh one. Some officer was regaling some impressionable mares by kitchens with tales of his "valor" on the battlefield. Rainwalker doubted the pompous Mule had ever even set foot on a battlefield except for when all the bloody work was done.

"So just when their Juggernaughts were about to hit us they walked right into the spot where we'd placed our Mana Charges. Then- BOOM!" One of the mares gave a delighted squeak of fright at this that made Rainwalker roll his eyes. "All of them went flying and the whole lot of mud ponies turned tail and ran!"

He pushed his way into the kitchen to find the overworked staff under the watchful eyes, and sharp tones, of the head cook.

"Where's the damned cake?" The Head cook shouted. "We needed it five minutes ago!"

Another slave refilled Rainwalker's tray with drinks quickly as the Head cook chewed out the terrified mare who was working the ovens. He longed to shove the head cooks horned head right into the ovens but kept it in check. The ropes bound about his wings prevented him from flying and if he couldn't fly he'd never get away with it.

He walked back out into the garden...

Right into the officer who had been regaling the mares with his stories. Fancy crystal glasses and sparkling white wines went everywhere, most onto to the officer. The whole Garden turned to watch the scene as Rainwalker stood there not yet fully comprehending what had just happened as they officer cursed and shook glass shards from his formal robes.

"You stupid feather brained clutz!" The Officer snarled.

"I'm sorry sir," Rainwalker replied suppressing his desire to laugh at the officer's wine soaked face.

"Sorry!" The Officer snapped. "Sorry? This robe is pure Neighponies silk! It took ten years to weave by master artisans! Do you know how expensive it is to get that kind of silk?"

"Not really."

"More than your life you stupid featherbrain!" The Officer shrieked.

Then his horn glowed with magic and Rainwalker tensed up. The ceremonial sword hanging at the officers side flashed out of its scabbard the hilt glowing the same color as the officer's horn.

Rainwalker brought the platter up just in time to block the first attack the narrow blade deflecting of it with a loud ping sound. He stepped back, ducking under the second swing and made to bolt. The sword came down again as he passed however, a sliced clean through the ropes binding his wings to his sides.

It took Rainwalker a moment to process this fact as the ropes fell to the ground and the officer turned to face him again, face livid with rage.

Without a second thought Rainwalker shot into the air, slightly off balance is his wings struggled to lift him up after such a long period of disuse. The Unicorns at the party were shouting, some were taking aim at his with their horns. He didn't need anymore of an excuse to fly as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

He knew the pursuit would be on him in minutes and that if he was caught his death would be horrible and painful. But for the moment he was free, flying on the wind, speeding along northwards. He didn't know who he should think for that idiot unicorns pompous attitude and sensitive ego, but they would be in his prayers that night.

Eventually however he had to set himself down to rest by the shore of a forest stream. He drank gratefully from the fresh water, it tasted infinity better than the swill he was given in the slave domes. His stomach growled at him and he couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. He nibbled on some wild grass which tasted foul and wasn't much more filling than the thin slop given in the slave domes. It wasn't much but he wouldn't starve at least.

As soon as he felt he could move again he once more rose into the air and continued north. Where in the north? He didn't know, he'd never seen a map in his life. Why north? He didn't know and he didn't care, anywhere was better than the villas and the slave domes. He had no plan but that didn't matter now. All that mattered was that he was free for the first time in his life.

MLP:ED

Ardon wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked up to the gates. The Guards waved him on through with the rest of the crowds. Thus he entered into the steadily rising city.

It had been seven weeks since the Nor Menn had made landfall in Equestria, seven weeks since the Saint Trottersburg had burned to the ground. In those seven weeks the couple of miles of land Ardon had chased Sheriff Silverstar and the Saint Trotterburg militia had steadily begun to transform. From miles of farm lands and woods, into the foundations of a city.

First they had harvested all of crops and began clear cutting the forest. Miles of trees were felled and up rooted to provide the lumber the Nor Menn would need. Then they head dug out trenches to install the sewage system to contend with the new cities waste. Pipes of Wood, Bronze, and other materials were laid in and buried, the points were they would connect to various structures sticking out of the ground like mushrooms.

Up went a basic palisade, extending from the one Ardon and his scout force had produced to shield them from attacks by the militia gunners. It would eventually be expanded into a larger, stronger, and higher wall of stone and lumber. Ardon's base camp was the first real square for the city, a roof and soft beds, with more buildings slowly rising around it.

At the beaches where the Armada had made landfall a large board walk and wharf had been constructed to service the vast Nor Menn fleet. It stretched out into a series of piers more than far enough out for the ships to dock easily. Many of the Great Arks were being dismantled to provide materials for the cities structures, but the rest of the fleet was still at berth ready to move if need be.

Most of the people were still living in tents and huts but a few houses had begun to rise. The King had marked out where he wanted streets to be placed; where shops and homes would go, where taverns and inns would be, and where troop garrisons and armories would be established for the city watch. High upon the cliffs where Ardon had slain Sheriff Silverstar the Kings new palace and hold was being raised. On the cliffs where Ardon had made light the first beacon the War Priests were raising up a new temple to the gods using stones salvaged from the ruins of Saint Trottersburg.

Ardon however had not been able to help in much of this work, he had other duties.

Countless many of the Jarl's, Chieftains, and lords did not intend to remain in the new capitol. They intended to set up their own new strongholds, cities, houses, and holdfasts else where in the region. Thus many of Wanderers, like Ardon had been called to serve scouting and surveying the surrounding territories for one noble or another.

There was also the matter of subjugating the local ponies. They could not risk ponies fleeing off and warning the rest of Equestria about the Nor Menn's arrival. So Raiding parties and scouting forces had been sent out to every farm and hamlet for miles and laying down the law. The locals could either bend the knee or they would be destroyed. Most chose the former over the later, terrified of their new overlords and hearing rumors of the destruction of Saint Trottersburg.

Then there was the village of Featherfall to the north west. Clan Krast had arrived in force to bring the settlement to heel only to find more of the mad laughing ponies present. A brutal and gruesome fight had ensued in which Clan Krast had slaughtered the crazed ponies to the last. Reports claimed Jarl Krast had slain the mad ponies leader in single combat with a single stroke from his great sword. Unlike Saint Trottersburg however the village had not been destroyed though many of its ponies had died either fighting or caught in the cross fire. Jarl Krast had reportedly claimed the village as part of his holdings and begun building up his own fortress with the blessings of the King.

To say the least the Nor Menn on the whole had been very busy.

He tossed a nod to several guards as he walked up the path to the King's new hold fast. They had finished building the first floor and had started on the second, building it into the side of the cliff to make it as tall and strong as possible. The Huskrals waved him through knowing he was expected.

Inside he stepped into a large hall of wood and stone. There was a stair case leading up to a raised dining and audience area. A few large tables had already been set up in the middle of the hall while workers built around the completed arts of the hold fast. At the far end however was a raised dais upon which was set a single seat of stone and iron shaped like an ice sickle rising from the floor. Upon this throne sat the king, his pale hair draped upon his shoulders and his crown upon his brow. Several nobles were gathered about the Throne all waiting to petition the king with some claim or grievance.

Ardon found himself waiting in a very long and irritable line as the king dealt with each of his petitioners one at a time. Literally hours passed as one noble or another presented his or her case to the king and received his judgement on the matter. It was tedious and irritating but Ardon was glad that he himself did not have to contend with such matters.

At last Ardon reached the front of the line and bowed low before the king, noting the presence of Chieftian Strenn standing close by the king.

"Your grace," Ardon said by way of greeting. "You summoned me?"

"Indeed I did Chief Scout," the king replied. "There are two matters that I must speak with you of."

"What might they be your grace?"

"First," the King began, shifting slightly on the throne. "Chieftain Strenn has offered to name you his heir as he has no living children."

This caught Ardon off guard to say the least. He looked up at the Chieftain who now had a somber smile on his face.

"I doubt I'll live through this war," Strenn explained. "I don't want my folk to be fought over like fish at the market. You I know can be trusted to lead them well and with wisdom."

"I am not worthy of the honor," Ardon said bowing his head.

"You are worthy so long as you don't stick a dagger into my back to get the inheritance faster," Strenn replied.

"No promises."

They both laughed at this. It took a moment or two before they could return to business. The King then leaned back on the throne.

"There is another matter to be attended to," he said grimly. "I have need of you once more Chief Scout."

"My life is yours," Ardon assured him.

"While we have made progress settling into our new holdings we must not become complacent," the king began. "The secrecy that has protected us thus far will not last much longer. Thus we must learn as much as we can about our foes as we can so we may better execute our war."

"What would you have me do?" Ardon asked.

"Take your forces south into the Goldenleaf woods," the king answered. "Observe the forces of House Moon and Stars. Discover where they are strong and where they are weak. Give us every advantage you can before we march on their lands in earnest."

"Rules of engagement your grace?"

"Leave no foe standing."

"Understood."

Author's Note

I go away for a week and Pooryorick decides he's done with ED?

Note to self. Never go on week long vacations ever again.

Edit: Changed a name due to mapping error. Sorry.

Goldenleaf Scouting

The leaves were only beginning to change color, fall was sinking its claws deep into the land. Once upon a time it would be close on time for the running of the leaves as Equestria made ready for the winter. The cold would blow in from the north and sheets of white snow would bury the land for months until winter wrap up came around and spring would at last take hold.

A different wind however was blowing from the north on this day however. Others were running through the trees of the whitetail woods, a silently as they could manage. They wore boots of leather and wore furs, leather, and mail. Some were riding upon bird like creatures with snow white or grey feathers and sharp beaks. They carried axes, swords, bows, mattocks, knives, and spears.

The Nor Menn scout force had crossed the general limits of Nor Menn territory only hours before even as evening drew closer and were spread out in a skirmish line for half a mile. They moved as silently and quickly as they could manage, a difficult task for so large a force. Ardon had nearly two hundred fifty warriors at his disposal including several Sindarla Snowstrider riders. The swift avian mounts and their riders formed the tips of his line.

The local wild life scattered before them, knowing well enough that where ever large heavily armed groups went violence was sure to follow. The Nor Menn needed to get in a fight or two with the ponies of Moon and Stars to take a proper measure of their foes. Still the advantage of surprise would be welcome.

When they came upon a large boulder strewn clearing Ardon brought up his fist. The whole scout force slowed to a halt and formed up on his position.

"What's the word boss?" Lethrook asked.

"We're going to set up base camp here," Ardon answered. "Night isn't far off."

"But we still haven't engaged the enemy," Lethrook objected.

"Which is why I'm taking a smaller force on ahead," Ardon replied. "We'll move faster and more quietly with a smaller group. We find the targets and in the morning we can all hit them."

Lethrook frowned but nodded.

"Alright boss. We'll play it your way."

"Damned right you will," Ardon replied.

So as Lethrook organized the majority of Scout Force to establish the base camp Ardon set about picking the warriors who would accompany him on into the woods. For the most part he picked Sindarla, fast and stealth; all twenty of his Snowstriders and another fifteen Clan Hunters on foot. Ten Wanderers however would come along as he would need their skills as trackers and as warriors.

Thus in order his smaller force set out even as Lethrook organized the collection of lumber, the setting up of tents, and other projects.

The going was quiet for almost an hour as the sun dipped lower towards the mountains to the south west. They had only come across wild animals and a few stray bandits home they had quickly and ruthlessly dispatched.

Then just before the sun was going to set the sounds of voices reached their ears and Ardon brought them to a halt. All of them went for cover silent as the shadows.

Ardon slid forward on his belly through the bushes until he reached the side of what seemed to be a dirt and gravel road running through the forest. To its northern edge he could here voices and the rhythmic clatter of armored hooves against the gravel. He drew back into the bushes just in time as a sizable patrol of ponies in bright armor marched passed. There were fifteen of them, each one a unicorn and each one with a decent length spear at their sides ready to be telekinetic-ally wielded in battle. They were singing a marching tune as a sixteen pony to their rear wearing a plumed helm called out to them.

"I don't know what I've been told!"

"I don't know what I've been told!"

"Pegasus flank is mighty cold!"

"Pegasus flank is mighty cold!"

"Mud Pony mares got no brains!"

"Mud Pony mares got no brains!"

"Give me a Unicorn Mare any day!"

"Give me a Unicorn Mare any day!"

As they marched on and sang on Ardon motioned to his troops to follow the patrol as far as they dared. The crept through the brush following the singing patrol until they reached a clearing which appeared to be the staging area of a sizable force of ponies. A sea of organized tents, drilled patrols, and unicorns with wings like butterfly's were everywhere, easily more than double Ardon's entire Scout Force, likely as much as four times his force or more.

"What do we do sir?" Fealen asked in a whisper

"We can't attack a force of this size," Ardon answered grimly. "We move on and look for a softer target."

"But with this large of a force..."

"I know," Ardon growled. "We'll have a tougher time moving about the area."

He glanced up at the sky to check the time. The moon was just assuming its dominance in the heavens but clouds prevented much of its light or those of the stars from showing through. Visibility would be pour for both sides.

The Nor Menn skirted the perimeter of the Moon and Stars camp seeking softer targets. More than once however they had to make a small distraction to slip past patrols or guards. The swift Snowstriders proved most useful in such tasks, slipping past patrols, make some strange noises in the woods, and then slipping off to rejoin the main group before any pony was any the wiser.

They went on for about an hour more until once again they head the sounds of approaching ponies and once more Ardon brought them to a halt. They were near another road, possibly the same as before with a god bit of cover. Once more Ardon slid to the roads edge on his belly to get a view of the approaching ponies.

It wasn't a patrol however.

A half dozen wagons were rolling along being pulled by battered looking Earth Ponies and driven by two Unicorns one of whom levitated a whip that they would crack at the Earth Ponies every minute or so. Escorting the wagons was another squad of Unicorn soldiers on foot. Half the wagons looked to be supply wagons but the other three were iron cages filled with truly wretched looking Earth Ponies and Pegasi.

Prisoners? Ardon wondered.

"Put your backs into it you worthless mud ponies," one of the driver's called with a crack of her whip. "We're already behind schedule! I'll tan your hides if we don't make camp before midnight!"

One of the earth ponies collapsed to the road side bringing the whole convoy to a halt. Ardon could see the colts fellows whispering to their exhausted fellow urgently, pleadingly. The lead driver climbed out of her seat and stormed back to the exhausted pony, her face livid.

"Get up damnit!" She snarled jabbing the exhausted colt in his side with a hoof. "Get up you bucking mule!"

The colt didn't move.

Now clearly furious the driver reared back her head then pointed her horn straight down at the exhausted earth pony. A blast of magic later and the colt was dead. Two more Earth ponies were dragged out of the cages to push the corpse to the road side. Then one of them was trussed up in the place of the colt while the other was shoved into the cage. The convoy began to roll on.

"Any of you other mud ponies feeling tired?" The lead driver taunted. "Cause I'll let you have a nice long nap like that horseson back there. Just you try it, I dare-!"

She never finished her sentence for Ardon's arrow tore into her throat mid sentence.

The decision had been made quickly that this convoy made an appealing target. While some Nor Menn did practice slavery the Sindarla despised the business as did many Wanderers. To have such limits placed upon ones freedom was abhorrent to them. Even those Nor Menn who did trade in slave labor did not treat their slaves like this. Slaves were supposed to be feed, clothed, and cared for by their masters. Undo cruelty like this wasted the precious lives for the Nor Menn. Usually slaves would be freed after some time and would integrate into the population. Some would rise to high honor as warriors, leaders, traders, or priests like Black Uk Weha or Shin Yal the cunning.

Arrows flew from the bows of the Snowstriders and Clan Hunters thick as bees and with lethal accuracy. The drivers were the first targets and they toppled from their wagons with arrow shafts jutting out of them. Several of the guards went down as well before the rest cast shielding spells which absorbed the missiles. They tighten up into a square formation to overlap their protective barriers just as the Wanderers and Snowstriders surged forward with Ardon in among them. Another wave of arrows flew striking the shields which wavered slightly but held firm.

The Wanderers hit the Unicorns head on, swinging their bastard swords. Their blades however glanced off the magical barriers and before they knew it spears were being thrust back at them. Ardon side stepped the one aimed for himself and slashed off the head of another but others weren't as fortunate. Two Wanderers took blows to the chest, one of which went right through the warriors chest while the other got caught in leather and mail. Another Wanderer took a blow to his arm and dropped his sword with a cry before another spear was shoved into his face.

The Wanderers drew back for their own safety as the unicorns advanced. More arrows came however and the Snowstirders were shooting from every direction. At last one of barriers failed and the Wanderer's charged in again. This time their strikes cut through the barriers of the ponies and struck home. The ponies armor however refused to allow the Nor Menn to have it all their way and another Wanderer went down with another three injured before the last Unicorn fell with Ardon's sword in his breast.

The slaves had not moved, to terrified to do anything but clearly ready to bolt. Ardon searched the corpses of the drivers for the keys while the rest of the Wanderers set about releasing the slaves who pulled the wagons.

"Run free," Ardon ordered in Equestrian as he opened up the first cage. "And don't make me regret this."

Utterly terrified the former slaves bolted off into the woods as soon as they were out of the cages. As they fled off into the night Ardon offered a silent prayer to the gods. One was for the safety of the slaves, the other was that they would not betray the trust and kindness he had given them.

MLP: ED

Rainwalker had lost track of how long he had been running for. Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? A hundred live times of ponies? Did it matter? His legs ached, his stomach was empty, and his lungs burned as he tried to draw in fresh air. He felt like he was going to drop dead at any moment. But on he went. For even if he might die running it was better than dying at the hands of his pursuers.

He had been a day away from the Garden party when he heard the thunder of the hooves of pursuit. He had been unable to shake them since then, even during his brief flights. He had kept low, near the tree tops and flown as far and fast as he could but as soon as he landed he could hear the hooves closing again.

Then his leg caught on a tree root and he tumbled to the ground. He landed hard on his face and could feel hot blood pouring out of his nose. Every fiber of his being screamed at his muscles to pick him back up but they refused to budge. He struggled against his unwilling body trying to push himself forwards to no avail.

It wasn't long before the hooves came to a stop close by. Rainwalker had no strength to so much as turn his head as the Unicorns dragged him around to face them.

They surrounded him in a ring; Inquisitors, Marksmages, and Knights, about thirty five in all. All of them were glaring at him with digust and hatred or smiling smugly at his fallen form. Directly before him was the same officer he had spilled the drinks on back at the Garden Party, dressed now in the formal armor of a Knight of Celestia. Cold hatred burned in the Unicorn's eyes as he glared down at Rainwalker.

"You have led us on a merry chase slave," he said coldly. "But you could never have hoped to out run the justice of the Goddess."

Rainwalker made no response to this.

"The Goddess is not without mercy however, nor am I," the Knight continued. "Beg forgiveness and repent and you shall merely lose your wings rather than your life."

At last Rainwalker worked up the strength to lift up his head. Then he spat a blood, saliva, and mucus combo right onto the gits shining breast plate.

The Knight's eyes flashed with rage and he cursed. His horn glowed raising the large morning star he had to deal strike the lethal blow.

"Disgusting featherbrain," he spat. "Burn in Tarturus with the rest of your degenerate kin."

Before he could strike however one of the Inquisitors stepped between them.

"What?" The Knight demanded.

"There is something in the trees," the Inquisitor said quietly.

"Its a deer," the Knight snapped. "I have justice now!"

The morning star rose, but when it fell it did not fall upon Rainwalker's head.

The Knight shrieked in agony as a two or three foot long thin shaft of wood had lodged itself into his eye. Fierce war cries rose up from all sides, deep and loud. More darts flew through the air striking many of the Unicorns, while others bounced off their armor. The Knights, Marksmages, and Inquisitors struggled to regroup just as great bird like creatures came out of the brush. Strange figures Rainwalker couldn't make out were on their backs, launching more projectiles.

Then in charged more figures in cloaks and wielding massive blades that were as long as Rainwalker was tall. They crashed into the Moon and Star's troops and began hacking and stabbing at them without mercy. Blood was everywhere and ponies along with a few of the attackers fell to the ground dead. One of the Inquisitors shot a jet of flames with magic scorching several fighters on both sides. The Unicorn's head landed not a foot away from Rainwalker a moment later.

Then everything fell silent save the moans of the wounded and dying.

A second later a sack was thrown over Rainwalker's eyes and ropes bound about his wings and hooves. A gag was forced into his mouth to keep him from crying out. Not that it would do him any good in these parts.

Some thing or somepony picked him up and he knew he was being carried somewhere. He did not know how long or how far they carried him only that he was grateful for a break from running and flying for his life. He might have to do it again soon.

After what seemed like ages he could hear more voices, the voices of his captors, or rescuers, speaking in a language he did not understand. They didn't sound quite like ponies either, their voices to gruff or in some cases to musical and flowing. He could here shouting like a challenge then an answer from his captors. He could smell cooking fires and sweat now, a camp of some sort.

Then a minute or so later he was dropped onto the ground. He lay there, silent as the grave until they removed the gag about his mouth and pulled the sack off his head. At last in the light of many campfires he got a good look at his captors.

They were tall, mostly hairless save for their heads and faces. They stood on two legs like diamond dogs but seemed more suited to the stance than the beast like diamond dogs did. They were dressed in armors of mail and what Rainwalker knew was leather. It was said by some of the older ponies in the Slave domes that the usage of animal hide in Equestria was considered a taboo one that had been broken by Everfree and Moon and Stars when it came to armoring the slave ponies who would serve as cannon fodder. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a stag, skinned and dead, roasting over a cook fire on a spit. Meat was another thing that the old mares had said was taboo. Sure ponies might partake in dairy or fish but never the animals of nature, they said Everfree had also broken that taboo leading to their savage nature.

Before he could say anything one of his captors set a bowl of water and a small sack of oats before him just within reach. He dug into his small meal gratefully savoring the taste of fresh oats and clean smooth water. Such luxuries were denied to those in the slave domes.

He was left alone for some time, watching his captors closely. He had two guards each carrying a heavy axe and a round shield made of wood. He had no doubts in his mind that if he tried anything they would kill him in an instant.

Then one his captors, who was tall with dark hair and wore a green cloak approached him with a stool in hand. He set the stool down on the grass and then sat down on it. He stared at Rainwalker for a long moment before at last speaking.

"Can you understand me?"

Rainwalker nodded.

"Good," his captor replied. "First things first. Who are you and why were that lot trying to kill you?"

"My name is Rainwalker and I escaped," Rainwalker answered.

"You were a slave then?"

Rainwalker nodded again.

"Do you know this area well?"

Rainwalker shook his head.

"I've never been outside the slave domes long," he answered. "I only escape a few days ago I think. Time gets funny when you are on the run."

"Slave Domes?" His captor asked. "What are you talking about?"

So Rainwalker told him everything he could about the slave domes. Of the mines that stretched deep down into the darkness, of the massive indoor farms feed by magic and worked by slaves who would never enjoy the crop, the massive forges where metal was worked by the ton, and he told him of the whips and the chains and the cruel taskmasters. His captor said nothing the whole time, simply drinking in his words.

"What you say fits with what I have seen this night," his captor replied. "Slavery is the fuel that keeps Moon and Stars' war machine functional."

"It seems that way," Rainwalker replied. "Might I ask who and what you are?"

"I am Ardon Weavestar," his captor replied. "Heir to Clan Strenn and Chief Scout of King Rhaegastar Dragonsfury, the first of his name, King of the Nor Menn and King on the Frozen Throne. I am a human."

Rainwalker frowned, he'd heard a tale or two from the older ponies in the slave domes about humans but he had always figured they were just stories.

"And what is it that you want?" Rainwalker asked.

"Information," Ardon replied. "So that my people can deal a critical blow to Moon and Stars quickly and with few losses of our own."

"I think I can help you with that," Rainwalker said the makings of a plan forming in his head.

Ardon smiled and leaned forward.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Author's Note

Interesting little note for all those who care to hear it, the idea of Black Vikings or Asian Vikings isn't to far fetched. Real life vikings went as far as the Indian Ocean and the coasts of North America. In fact its possible they actually did make it all of the way to Minnesota. As Vikings also traded in slaves they would bring back captives from these raids. Such slaves might eventually be freed and integrate into the community.

Enough history however. Next Chapter the Nor Menn start a revolution!

Had to edit the chapter name due to map error. My bad!

Slave Revolt

The smell of cooking fires was what woke Rainwalker up this morning. He was still getting used to the smell of roasting meat. He rolled out of the small bed of straw and stolen blankets the Nor Menn had given him and set about laying out a trough of food for himself and the few other ponies with him.

Almost two weeks had passed since he had become a "guest" of the Nor Menn. The human warriors had let him sleep in their camp, eat food they stole from Moon and Stars, and sit around their fires. They'd done more than that however when they brought in fleeing slaves they had found in the woods or rescued during their raids.

There were now about twenty five other ponies in the camp besides Rainwalker, most of them Earth Ponies. The Nor Menn kept them under guard but they were free to move about the camp during the day light hours. Rainwalker was the official leader of the ponies now by Ardon's orders and was to see to their needs and welfare.

As he laid out the oats in the wooden trough the Nor Menn had also stolen in one of their raids he watched the Night patrols come in through gate looking tired but pleased with themselves.

"How went it?" He called to them in their own language which he had been struggling to learn.

"Three kills a piece," the leader replied with a grin. Given the scout parties size of fifteen that meant around forty five Moon and Stars troops had been killed that night. Rainwalker grinned and tossed them a salute before returning to his work.

The Nor Menn camp, Broken Stones as they called it was now much larger than it had been when Rainwalker had arrived. They had built a rough wall of timbers and earth around the perimeter along with scaffold towers from which archers could maintain a watch and shoot at approaching foes. Some of the larger stones had been moved against the wall, Ardon said they might break the tones down to widen the wall and make it taller some day. Within the camp itself a few small log buildings had been raised amidst the stones and tents. The Nor Menn had built themselves a drinking hall which they called a Long House and larger command center they called a great hall. A couple of Wagons had been pulled into a ring about which most of Sindarla tended to spend their time. There was even a Smithy, a lumber mill, and green houses. It was clear to Rainwalker that this was not going to be some temporary raiding camp but a full fledged fortress from which the Nor Menn could make strikes and assaults deep into the heart of the Whitetail woods.

Still while the defenses and base were strong the Nor Menn were badly out numbered. There were barely over two hundred of them and the scouts confirmed that the Moon and Stars forces in the region out numbered them by as much as twenty to one, over four thousand ponies in the area loyal to House Moon and Stars. If the Nor Menn were to make progress the army would have to be defeated. To do that they would need more troops.

The plan Rainwalker and Ardon had concocted would hopefully provide for just that and more given that this King Rhaegastar Dragonsfury agree to the plan. Until then the Nor Menn raided the supply caravans and ambushed outlying patrols, always in different spots, usually further to the west. That had been Rainwalker's idea, that way the commanders might think it was Stormwing or their Nhorse allies preforming the raids.

As Rainwalker's fellow ponies arrived to par take of their morning meal, Lethrook arrived; his morning ale still dripping from his beard.

"The Chief wants to see ya," he grunted to Rainwalker.

"Did the message come?" Rainwalker asked.

"Don't know," Lethrook replied with a shrugg of his shoulders. "He didn't say."

Rainwalker nodded and followed the man. He knew Lethrook and many other Nor Menn were still cautious about the ponies. Most they had meet thus far had reportedly tried to kill them. Not that Rainwalker could blame them. Humans were supposed to be fables, used to scare wayward fillies and colts to bed. When monsters out of myth showed up on anyponies door was anypony surprised that they panicked?

They reached the Wooden hall that served as Ardon's command center and the guards let them through. Inside it was dark, the main source of light was a low fire feed by logs, there were no candles and few torches on the walls. There was little nothing the walls and no where to sit. A few tables, low for humans but perfect for ponies were set about, spoils of the raids. Scattered across these were various maps, scrolls, other assorted pieces of paper, empty or partially full drinking mugs, wooden trenchers of food, and various assorted stray weapons.

Ardon was standing at one table speaking with a man in a heavy cloak lined with fur held with a wolf's head brooch. He had a close cut beard and auburn hair, and wore a suit of armor made of leather, plate, and mail. A great sword was slung over his back in a sheath; Rainwalker still marveled at the strength of the Nor Menn to wield such weapons. Two guards similarly equipped though with not as fine gear stood on either side of newcomer, body guards no doubt.

Ardon gave him a nod and motioned to Rainwalker.

"Here he is my lord," he said in the Nor Menn language.

"So I see," the auburn haired man replied turning to face him.

"Rainwalker this is Jarl Robvin Krast, nephew of King Rhaegastar Dragonsfury, Lord of Featherfall and Clan Krast."

He said it slow enough that Rainwalker could understand.

"Jarl Krast, this is Rainwalker."

"A pleasure to meet you my lord," Rainwalker said making a quick bow.

"Likewise," Jarl Krast replied. "You've caused quite a stir in Dragonslanding."

"The King has received our message and sent Jarl Krast to deliver his reply," Ardon explained.

"And what is the King's decision?" Rainwalker asked.

"The King received your message nine days ago," Jarl Krast replied. "He summoned his advisers; Jarls, Chieftains, lords, and priests. For four days we deliberated on your proposal, six days ago the King made his decisions."

"And that is?" Rainwalker said impatiently.

Jarl Krast then pulled up a map and pointed at the city of Stalliongrad.

"The ultimate objective of this campaign will not be to free slaves but the capture of the city of Stalliongrad. To that end the King has granted you permission to commence with a slave rebellion."

Rainwalker grinned, jubilation filling him.

"How exactly is a slave rebellion going to capture Stalliongrad?" Lethrook asked.

"The rebellion is a diversion," Jarl Krast answered. "One to draw out the garrison at Stalliongrad. Once the garrison is in the field, the King will lead an assault upon the city."

"And the garrison?" Ardon asked.

"You are to draw it into these wood lands," Jarl Krast answered. "I will reinforce you with my forces once they are in the field."

"Sounds like a plan," Rainwalker commented.

"There's just one catch," Jarl Krast said raising a hand. "The element of surprise must be maintained. You must ensure that House Moon and Stars knows about a slave rebellion but not we Nor Menn until we attack Stalliongrad."

"So if we must fight, leave no witnesses," Lethrook growled. "Sounds good to me."

"We might not have the forces on hand to preform such an operation," Ardon commented.

"I rode ahead of a column of reinforcements the King has gifted you with," Jarl Krast replied. "The force includes Avariel Healers, men trained in the construction and use of battering rams, additional Snow Striders, Clan Hunters, Raiders, Axe Throwers, Berserkers, and Spearwives. They should be here before dark. Other reinforcements may arrive ahead of my own troops."

Ardon nodded.

"Alright then," he said. "Thank you for your assistance my lord. We've got a busy night ahead of us."

MLP:ED

Sundancer was having an all around crummy evening, for one it was cloudy but their were other reasons. For the past week or so the whole garrison had been on on again off again alert. Patrols and supply shipments had been ambushed. Evidence pointed to raids either by bandits or House Stormwing, regardless the brass didn't like it. Increasing the guards on the supply shipments had reduced the number of attacks, indeed there had been no attacks on the heavy convoys.

Still all the activity had stirred up the local nobles who feared attacks on their manor houses and estates. They had whined and bleated at the commanders at the Camp until the commanders had given in and dispatched troops to protect the noble estates. The nobles had then complained about the soldiers conduct on their lands.

That was dangerous, the troops were being spread to thin. Sure they were well behind the Canterlot Mountains meaning an attack by Earthborn or Whitegold was unlikely but if Stormwing realized what was happening, or worse planning for it, they could sweep aside the divided defenders with ease. Orders were orders however.

Sundancer was stationed at some nobles estate, she couldn't remember his name, nor did she care. The estate was a wide area, including a functioning mine and large plantation grounds. Its supplies were considered valuable to the army, not its owner and his complaining.

She was just taking off into the air on her wings, to join the rest of her unit on night patrol duty when she heard a distant shout from the direction of the estate gates. Then there was more shouting, loud and harsh. Curious she took to the sky and sped towards the commotion.

What she saw made her turn tail and fly straight back for her unit.

A massive force ponies and creatures she didn't recognize were assaulting the gate. They had already over whelmed the sentries and had begun to smash the gates open the a large tree trunk.

Before she could got very far however something hit her from behind and she fell from the sky. Her wings and a few of her bones shattered when she hit the ground. She screamed loudly in pain, hoping that she might at least alert her comrades. She managed to push herself up just as the gates crumpled.

The Horde of invaders poured onto the grounds roaring fierce battle cries, waving weapons and torches in the air. Most passed right by her, advancing towards the mansion and the rest of the estate. Her fellows tumbled from the sky as projectiles hurtled towards them, pegasus ponies tore at them, and strange flying beings assaulted them.

Then she felt something drive into her back, and the world went dark.

MLP:ED

"BRUN IT ALL!" Ardon roared over the shouts of his fellows as they moped up the remaining Moon and Stars troops. The Nor Menn showed no mercy to their enemies, killing them with the savage efficiency he had come to expect. The Portable Rams they built were proving their worth by smashing open store houses, slave pens, and the mansion doors. The estate was not meant to repel an attack of such a scale.

The Pony forces under Rainwalker were proving themselves on the field as well. They fought with years of pent up resentment and hatred, showing no pity and giving no quarter. Where once their were only a few ponies with them there were now over a hundred former slaves in his army. This was the third estate they had hit that night, and at the previous two they had found many slaves willing to rise up against their former masters given the chance.

Sure enough as the Slave Pens were broken open a fresh horde of slaves poured out, confused but eager to be out of their cages.

"Come on every pony!" Rainwalker shouted to the newly freed slaves. "We're making the horn heads pay tonight!"

Though still confused and scared the Slaves were quickly armed and got the gist of what was going on. They set upon their foes, mercilessly cutting the overseers who had once tormented them. Freedom and vengance were huge boosts to morale.

Just then several Nor Menn and Former Slaves came out of the Manor house. Behind them they dragged the terrified Lord of the Estate and his family. Lethrook brought them before Ardon shoved the Lord towards him.

"Look what we found hiding under his bed," Lethrook proclaimed with a laugh.

Several warriors laughed along with Lethrook. The Unicorn Lord looked about ready to piss himself.

"Please!" He all but squeaked. "Take anything you want! Do anything you want! Just please don't hurt me!"

"Chalice!" The lord's wife said suddenly angry.

"Sorry dear but its do or die right now!"

Ardon spat at the Unicorns feet with disgust.

"Coward," he growled before raising his hand and a half sword.

"Mercy!" Chalice cried. "Please mercy!"

"Mercy for your family," Ardon replied. "Not you."

"I can give you bits, slaves, anything you want!"

"You know what? Just kill him," Lord Chalice's wife said bitterly. "I knew I should have listened to my mother when she warned me about you Chalice."

"You're not helping Dazzle!"

"Stretch his neck!" Ardon barked.

The Nor Menn pushed Lord Chalice to the ground and then pulled his head forwards to give Ardon a bigger cutting area.

"NO! I BEG YOU!"

"Beg Hel for mercy," Ardon snarled. "You get none from me."

Then he struck. One of Chalice's children, a foal by the looks of it, gave a small scream as her father's head was separated from his body. Ardon kicked aside the head before motioning to the surviving members of the family.

"Bind them up," he ordered. "Having a few hostages never hurt."

The Nor Menn set about their task without question. As Ardon turned about however he saw Rainwalker approaching with a frown on his face.

"What is it?" Ardon asked.

"Why not just kill them?" Rainwalker asked.

"Hostages are worth more alive than dead," Ardon answered.

"They deserve to die for what they've done," Rainwalker said.

"Perhaps," Ardon replied. "Perhaps not. War is funny that way. Get your lot ready to move we have more targets to hit."

Rainwalker scowled but said no more.

Ardon turned away and waved his sword high in in the air.

"Let's move it out lads!" He called.

That night the white tail woods were awash in flames, terror, and blood. The Nor Menn hit five more manor estates before dawn came and they retreated to their encampment. Three caravan's were looted and burned as they made their way through the forest. Over three hundred unicorns had been slain in battle; by spears, swords, axes, hooves, and clubs of ponies and menn.

From it all however much gold and food had been taken, weapons and armor stolen, books and scrolls looted, and priceless works of art removed. Also well over two thousand slaves were freed from imprisonment and bondage. Those who had known only the whips and truncheons of their masters now knew the free air, to own the sweat of their brows and the labor of their backs. They were free, but they would have to fight to keep it that way.

Author's Note

Sorry for the long wait. College and stuff slowed the writing process. Next time we finally get a real battle between the Nor Menn and the forces of House Moon and Stars.

Last Breath

General Twostar had no idea when he'd last had a month this bad. It had started off well enough, setting up camp in the Goldenleaf woods for the winter, spend the next few months living off what supplies they had stock piled and wait for the spring thaw. A formula tried and tested over the last fifteen years since Equestria had divided into the various houses.

Ponies did poorly in the depths of winter, particularly when making war. Supplies became strained, communications broke down, soldiers froze starved or deserted, sickness could run rampant. Nobody marched or fought in winter unless they were desperate.

He remind himself it was still mid fall but the point stood. Almost all of the house armies had agreed to refrain from fighting in late fall as they needed to collect resources and prepare for winter. The last thing anypony needed was a famine considering how rough things had become.

In last few weeks however all hell had broken loose on his watch. Somepony or something had begun launching raids into Goldenleaf woods, attacking supply caravans, patrols, and isolate positions. The Nobles had panicked and demanded he dispatch his troops to their lands to protect them and their property. No need to worry that he only had about two and half thousand troops to start with.

Then one bloody night only a few days passed the bastards had struck again in a big way. In one night they had attacked over half a dozen estates, sacked them, killed all of his troops, then fled back into the woods. He was now down to about two thousand troops and knew that the enemy he was facing was likely a very large and well organized fighting force. Worse they were growing in number as they seemed to be freeing all of the slaves from the estates they raided. No way it was simple bandits.

Even worse he had no idea who was attacking his troops. House Stormwing liked to launch raids into the the woods to cause trouble and win glory but they wouldn't be sneaking around like these attackers were. He prayed to Celestia it wasn't the Griffons launching a full scale invasion into Equestria but the timing was off. Diamond Dogs were possible put unlikely, they didn't attack well defended estate homes and free slaves.

He had an army in his neck of the woods, and he was now out numbered.

That brought him to the most difficult matter, begging for help. His reputation would be ruined by this whole mess, he'd be laughed at all the way back to Hoofington. But the situation had deteriorated to quickly, he needed more troops.

Thus he levitated his quill into his ink pot and then set about penning his letter to the Garrison commander in Stalliongrad. Every scratching stroke of the pen sounded to him like the laughter of the pompous fops back in Canterlot already mocking him and his helplessness. He broke his quill by accident and muttered a curse before getting a fresh one. He broke that quill as well before he finished.

Resigned to his fate he cast a spell that would copy the message four times before scrambling them with a spell cypher. That was one of House Moon and Stars' greatest advantages, no one could read their communications without magic. Still it paid to be careful so he summoned up four of his fastest Seraphs.

As soon as they were off he grabbed himself a cup of tea and threw himself down onto a chair in front of his fire. It was like watching his career literally burn away.

MLP:ED

The wafting smell of pony sewage woke Ardon from his nap. He spat out a curse as he clambered out of his bed roll. Though the Nor Menn had stolen a few beds from their raids none of them were large enough for the usage of Menn. Thus they had to make do with their camping gear. He dressed, washed his face in a water basin running his fingers through the short beard he had started to grow. He grabbed a loaf of bread from the table in the Great Hall that wasn't stale before stepping outside into the sun light.

The camp was far more crowded now, a mass of tents had been erected outside the perimeter to accommodate the mass of ponies. An additional palisade was in construction about this expansion while the Nor Menn also tried to deal with the other problems their new forces were presenting. Feeding them and preventing diseases was a full time job, since they didn't eat meat.

The ponies were almost more trouble than they were worth. Of the nearly two thousand ponies they had to work with a third were fillies and colts who were to young to fight. The rest were mostly untrained, confused, scared, and poorly motivated. A few had tried to desert on the first day. Ardon had the deserters hanged to get the message across. Fight or die, those were the only options.

Rainwalker was doing his best to help out, teaching the few slaves who had fought in House Moon and Stars' who to speak the Nor Menn tongue. Being able to speak with the Nor Menn made it easier for the Ponies to receive orders and train. They had stolen plenty of weapons and armor from House Moon and Stars' so armament was not a problem.

Still at best only a few hundred of the ponies would make even remotely good warriors.

He strode out to the palisade and climbed up into a tower to watch the morning drills. In a yard that had been cleared about fifty ponies were moving in two loose formations under the watchful eyes of Nor Menn veterans. Others were fighting in small groups also under the watchful eyes of Nor Menn veterans. Still more were having iron shoes fitted to their hooves, expecting heavy combat. Above a flight of Pegasus ponies were practicing mock diving charges.

"Good morning Chief Scout."

Ardon frowned before turning to face Rainwalker who was floating behind him. The Pegasus had to flap his wings rather rapidly to maintain a stable altitude. A major difference from the Nor Menn Avariel or Caladria as they could not maintain a single position for very long at all while flying.

"Morning," he growled before turning back to watch the ponies training in the yard bellow.

"They'll be battle ready soon enough," Rainwalker said confidently, dropping down onto the platform to stand beside him. "You and your King will see Chief."

"Perhaps," Ardon replied, watching as pony tried to charge on of his trainers only to be knocked to the dirt by a swift strike to the legs. "But their not real warriors yet."

"They've got the spirit for it," Rainwalker assured him. "And now they've got the weapons and armor to strike back at their former oppressors."

"Their foes will be just as well armed and equipped," Ardon said turning away and climbing down the ladder to ground level. "They will be battle hardened and disciplined and likely as not will out number us."

Rainwalker hopped down off the platform to join him.

"Strong backs and strong hearts are worth just as much Chief," the pegasus said. "And if not then anger will serve just as well as courage."

"Maybe," Ardon said motioning Rainwalker to follow him as they walked through the camp. "We haven't heard yet if the garrison at Stalliongrad has begun to move yet however. Our primary goal is the capture of Stalliongrad, this fight will merely be a distraction."

"We'll give those horn heads something to think about sir I can promise you that."

"Until then however I want your ponies taking part in as many raids as possible to give them real fighting experience. My lads will still make up the back bone of our fighting forces but your ponies have to prove they can pull their..."

At that moment a Sindarla on a Snow Stirder came riding up to them a look of excitement on his face.

"Chief Scout," he said in an equally excited tone. "We spotted reinforcements approaching from the north."

"How many and who are they?" Ardon asked at once.

"Mostly my kin," the Sindarla replied. "But they had a few Dökkálfar and your own folk with them, well over a hundred."

"How far out are they?"

"A little over and hour."

"Round up a few of your fellows and ride out to meet them," Ardon ordered. "Tell them I'll await their leaders at the great hall."

"Yes Chief," the Sindarla replied before turning and riding off.

"Rainwalker," Ardon said turning once more the pegasus. "Get Lethrook and the other leaders. Meet me in the great hall in half an hour."

"Yes sir," Rainwalker siad making a movement with his right for leg that looked like a salute. It amazed Ardon just how flexible these ponies could be some times.

He quickly made his way back to the Great Hall and ordered some of the cooks to get some food and drink prepared. While he waited he cleared the head table of all excess junk and scraps save for a pair of maps. The first was one of the whole of Equestria while the other focused on just the local area and had been hand drawn by the Clan Hunters and Wanderers.

Prominent near the center of the map was the main Moon and Stars encampment while Broken stones was off to the side in the east. Several manor houses and estates were also marked on the map most of them crossed out having been raided already. The most important feature was that every clearing, stream, and hill was marked. Ardon knew that the terrain could easily make his job much easier.

Before long his officers arrived; Lethrook, Fealen, Rainwalker, and all the rest. Food arrived shortly after they did but nobody touched anything waiting for their guests to arrive.

At last the doors opened to admit a small party. There was seasoned looking Raider with a heavily scared face, a fair haired Sindarla warrior with a bow in hand but not strung, a Dökkálfar with bright red hair and a sharp hawk like face dressed in armored robes of a Spell Warder, and a cheery looking dark haired Sindarla woman with large yellow green eyes holding a staff. A Faesage of the Sindarla.

"I'm terribly sorry if we're a bit late," she said apologetically. "Not used to the trails around here you see."

"Not at all," Ardon replied. "I'm afraid you have me at a bit of a loss though Faesage. We didn't know anyone would becoming yet to reinforce us."

"My name is Merricle, and these are Redgar, Telan, and Veniris," she said motioning to each of her companions in turn before frowning. "And what do you mean you didn't know we were coming? I'm sure I sent the message ahead of us."

Ardon's blood ran cold as the Faesage began digging around in her pack.

"We didn't receive any..."

"Oops," she said her cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

"What do you mean oops?"

She then pulled out a sealed parchment scroll.

"I forgot to send it."

Ardon closed his eyes for a moment trying to keep his emotions in check. It took him a moment to recover before he could speak.

"What were you supposed to tell us?" He asked.

"We intercepted a message from the camp here to Stalliongrad asking for reinforcements," Merricle replied. "The Garrison has likely set out by now."

Lethrook swore violently.

"How many?" Ardon demanded

"About five thousand," Merricle answered still looking ashamed of herself. "Maybe a bit more. By the looks of things it will take them a few days to get here, just shy of a week, five days."

That was just what he needed. A battle against a force twice his numbers and he had less than a week to prepare.

"Did you at least send a message to the King?" Ardon asked.

"Of course," she answered.

"I can confirm that Chief Scout," the Raider Redgar growled. "I sent one of my own warriors to deliver it."

Ardon nodded then motioned for the new comers to join them at the table. They seemed rather curious about Rainwalker and his fellows but kept their questions polite for Nor Menn standards. They ate a little as Ardon thought hard and long on what he was going to do.

"They still don't know about our forces," Ardon muttered. "We're the one factor they don't know about yet."

"So what do we do?" Lethrook asked.

"Keep the advantage of surprise as long as we can," he answered.

He then picked out a clearing a few miles north of the main Moon and Stars encampment. There was a sizable hill there with good cover cover from the forest on all sides but its southern approach.

"That's where we'll meet the enemy," he said. "We lure them in there and we'll have a good choke point to minimize their numerical advantage."

"I doubt that we'll be enough," Fealen said looking at the map.

"That's why we're going to use every dirty trick in the book to even the odds," Ardon replied. "Now listen up."

Author's Note

I know I promised a battle but I forgot I had to do the set up for it. Your patience is appreciated, for epic battles take time to write.

Fire of freedom

General Twostar was more than happy to be on the march, at last marching his troops out against the enemy. Reinforcements from Stalliongrad had arrived the day before hand, slightly more than five thousand strong. To his disapproval however two thousand of those troops were Slave Warrior levies. There was a good chance they might turn against them in the coming battles so he had to keep them under close watch. Beggars couldn't be choosers however and if he wanted to salvage his career he had to strike now.

The week of waiting had been dangerously quiet with few raids being reported and just as few supply caravan's being attacked. It had rained heavily in the last few days, he lamented that weather had become less predictable since the disappearance of the Royal Sisters. There was to much risk of pegasus slaves making a run for it if they were used for weather control duty.

Two days prior however his scouts had spotted what looked like a camp to the north of his base camp. It was set up in a clearing surrounded by thick trees and high wooded ridge to the north. The trees were two thick for large infantry columns to advance easily so they would be slowed and vulnerable on the approach, forced onto paths used by the wild life an no doubt the rebel slaves themselves.

So once he was reinforced he began his expedition into the wood lands at full march. The proud legions of Moon and Stars marched with parade ground precision, banners flying high in a fall breeze. It did Twostar's heart to see such proud Stallions and Mares willing to lay down their lives for the true Equestria.

Some have already laid down their lives, he privately mused.

Some of his scouting parties had been ambushed already today, quick hit and run style attacks, mostly by pegasus ponies. Some had fought them off with few losses but others had vanished all together. He mourned those losses in silence, refusing to allow himself to appear weak before so many valiant ponies.

Suddenly the whole advance came to a grinding halt. He frowned and hurried along the line towards the front of the column. The ponies there were not marching or fighting, they were simply staring up into the trees with looks of abject horror and revulsion on their faces. A few were retching up their breakfast by the side of the trail.

"What's going on here!" He demanded. "Why have you..."

Then he looked up himself.

Hanging from the branches of every tree along the trail was a unicorn, dead and disfigured. Their eyes head been stabbed out and bellies torn open so that intestines swung in the breeze. Every stallion had been gelded and their parts shoved into their open mouth's. Every mare had been shaved bare, pale flesh bare in the air. Even worse every single one had their horn cut off and shoved up their hindquarters. Some had mocking signs hanging from about their necks denoting them as nobility or officers along with mocking graffiti.

Rage, such as he had never before known in his life welled up in Twostar as he looked up the desecrate remains of his ponies and peers. This was vile, worse than Earthborn's practice of dehorning by an unbelievable magnitude. Such cruelty he had never seen before in ponies.

"Celestia protect us," one of the lead stallions whispered. "We're dealing with the cult sir."

Twostar shook his head.

"No."

"But who else could do...," the stallion struggled for words staring up at the remains for a moment before vomiting all over his own hooves.

"Pull yourself together," Twostar said patting a hoof on the stallion's armored back. "None of them are smiling. The cult usually tries to make some sort of sick joke out of their attacks. This," he gestured to the hanging corpses. "Was meant to inspire fear and weaken our resolve not some joke."

The Stallion nodded, steadying himself.

"Get a detail cutting these poor sods down," Twostar ordered. "But keep the column moving. The best we can do for this lot is bring the cravens who did this to justice."

"Yes sir," the Stallion said in a shaky voice.

The column began to move again while some of the seraphs flew up into the trees to lower the victims down. Twostar turned away from the sight to gaze northwards.

He knew that the carnage had only just begun.

MLP:ED

"Move your fecking asses!"

"Come on lads!"

"Hurry it up! We're at war now!"

Ardon moved quickly through organized chaos at the top of the hill line. Almost all of his two thousand seven hundred man and pony force was making ready for battle around him. Some were organizing units of former slaves and getting them into positions. Others donned war paint, a few applying it to some ponies who wanted to try it out. The Clan Hunters that weren't on the prowl for stray enemy forces and scouts were planting arrows into the dirt. A few were praying, or drinking, or eating a last meal. Everyone knew this would be a blood fight to come.

For the past few days the Nor Menn and their pony allies had been busy turning this clearing and ridge line into a massive death trap. First he had ordered the ground in the clearing tilled up with a few plows that they had taken during their raids. Then he'd had the pegasus ponies gather as many clouds as they could to cover the area in heavy rain. The result was that the clearing was now a thick goopy quagmire of mud, water, and other substances.

He had ordered that the top hill itself be left as dry as possible and then had several large heavy boulder's moved from their main camp to the top of the hill. These boulders were covered in straw and hay that had been lashed down on them. Barrels of oil and grease from the cooking had been prepared to ignite the boulders and use them to break up the troop formations of house Moon and Stars.

At that moment several Snow Striders lead by the Faesage arrived with a couple of Pegasus ponies lead by Rainwalker in tow.

"Report," he ordered instantly.

"They're coming," Merricle replied. "Less than a half hour away by now."

"We've given them a few scratches," Rainwalker added. "They're practically blind now."

"Perhaps," Ardon muttered. "Lethrook!"

Lethrook hurried over pulling his mail on over his head.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ardon demanded.

"Was having a good feck," Lethrook growled pulling on his helmet.

"Just to clarify feck does mean what I think it does right?" Rainwalker asked.

"Yep," Lethrook answered.

"Have we had any word about Lord Krast and his warriors?" Ardon asked.

Lethrook shrugged.

"No idea," he said. "Like I said, I was having a feck."

"Well go find out!" Ardon snapped angrily. "I'll cut your cock off and feed it to the unicorns."

Lethrook hurried off leaving Ardon to turn back to Merricle and Rainwalker.

"I want the ponies up front," Ardon growled. "Keep our warriors concealed until the last moment to maximize the shock value. I want the Pegasi to focus on their fliers, no attacking ground targets until we have air superiority."

"Got it," Rainwalker replied.

"Magic is to remain as a last resort," Ardon continued. "The less the enemy knows about us the better. Triage healing for those who can return to the fight over those who cannot. Snow Striders are to stay on our left flank and hit the enemy from the trees. No engaging the enemy directly, if they give chase break them up and slaughter them."

"Right," Merricle replied.

"Boss!" Lethrook shouted running back over to them. "Last word put Clan Krast's forces at nearly two hours away at best!"

Ardon cursed, if Clan Krast didn't get here in time they wouldn't be able to hold for long.

"If the enemy gains the hill top," he said slowly. "Have everyone fall back to the trees."

"If they gain the hill top?" Rainwalker asked.

"If they get that far we're probably already dead," Ardon replied grimly.

Silence fell among them for a brief moment as Ardon looked from them one at a time; rugged old Lethrook, fiery Rainwalker, and innocent looking Merricle. He wondered if this would be the last time he would see any of them again. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Get to your positions," he ordered. "Gods go with you all."

They all nodded and split off to their respective positions on the battle line. By now the Nor Menn and pony warriors were assuming their final positions for the fight. Almost everything was now ready with minutes to spare. Ardon walked the line looking into the eyes of each of them. Bearded and fierce Raiders, eager Axe throwers, wild Berserkers, solemn Wanderers, grim Spear wives, focused Clan hunters, disciplined Spell warders, calm Snow striders, spirited Avariel healers, scared but determined former slaves. Warriors all be they pony, man, or elf.

Slowly he climbed up onto one of the larger boulder's near the center of the line as silence fell upon the lines. He adjusted the brooch that now held his cloak. A gift from the Faesage that would allow all who heard him to understand his words no matter what language he spoke in. Great moments called for a speech as the bards said.

"Warriors," he began. "Less than a month ago we were all strangers. Who would have imagine such a force as this ever coming to be? Menn and ponies fighting side by side. We come from different lands, speak in different languages, pray to different gods, eat different food, but in this one moment and in this cause we are united. In this one moment we are kinsmen, a common people fighting a common foe. Brothers and sisters in blood, battle, death, glory, and victory."

Then he smiled. "And I am honored to be in the company of kinsmen so worthy as you all. This battle will not be the end of this war. This battle is but the first step in a long and bloody road to the end. Some of you may ask "why must I take that first step? Can't someone else do it?" I say if not us here and now, then who will and when? We must take that first step. We must make a stand. And I say we do it here and now."

He paused for a moment and then drew out his sword.

"Will you stand with me?" He demanded.

In response the Nor Menn drew their weapons and cheered. The ponies followed suit stamping their hooves and shaking their spears. Ardon grinned.

"Then let's kick these prissy little, holier than though, horn headed feckers right in their rears and send them crying all the way to Hel!" He roared amidst the roars and shouts of his fellows. "For victory! For justice! For freedom! And for the north!"

He then clambered off the rock to join the line with his kinsmen. Battle called and he would answer.

MLP:ED

As General Twostar followed his men into the valley a turned his gaze northwards to the lines of rebel slaves a top the hills. They stood (or flew in the case of pegasus slaves) there, a few near the edge clustered about several large boulders they had brought to the fight. A simple and primitive tactic, typical of mud pony and feather brained slaves. Pathetic to be perfectly honest.

Still the danger they presented was very real as such boulders could be dangerous to the large formations that the Legionnaires preferred. Sending Seraphs in first would mean taking the fight to the enemy fliers which could be dangerous. He still couldn't see the mysterious supporters of this slave revolt. No doubt the true masters of these ignorant foals were using their thralls as bait to lure in the Unicorns.

"Marksmages front and center!" He called.

The Marksmages hurried to forefront falling into perfect formation. They kicked up mud however much to General Twostar's distaste.

"Set up and scatter those foals," he ordered. "No quarter or mercy."

"Set up!" the Marksmage commander shouted.

The Marksmages planted their amplifiers into the mud, not without some difficulty. Then they inserted their horns into the firing chambers and adjusted their aim.

"Fire!" The Marksmage commander shouted.

Dozens of bolts of magical energies screamed forth and with precise aim hit their targets. Most of the slaves on or above the hill dropped either screams or in silence. More came up however taking the positions previously held by their fellows. The Marksmages fired again and more dropped with dismal ease.

Satisfied General Twostar turned to his signal ponies.

"Vanguard forward," he ordered. "Legionnaires up front, Knights in the center, and Seraphs above in support."

Flawlessly his orders were carried out and the Unicorns took positions. Bristling lines of polished steel barding, bright spears, and glowing horns. Regimental banners flew in the breeze while musicians played up marching tunes. Proud valiant Unicorns, the true rulers of Equestria as nature and the Princesses decreed it.

"Forward, march!" He proclaimed.

With a drilled rustling thunder of armor shifting as the Unicorns marched forwards with practiced discipline.

Then they began to hit the mud and the lines began to slow in their advance. The heavy armor got caught in the sludge and clogged the lines. Twostar's vanguard of nearly seven hundred of the finest unicorns in Equestria were get stuck in the mud and slowed to a crawl in the advance on their foes.

Still they were making passable progress through the sludge. Sheer bulk of numbers was pushing the advance forwards, towards the hill. The Marksmages kept the slaves heads down for fear of losing them to incoming magical blasts. It was starting to look as though this battle would be a cake trot.

Then suddenly the boulders a top the hill burst into flames becoming massive balls of fire. A second later the slaves kicked them down, sending them rolling towards the front ranks of the vanguard. Twostar cursed knowing that there was no way those caught in the path of those boulders would be able to get out of the way in time because of the mud. Still the flames seemed excessive.

A moment later the boulders smashed into the front ranks crushing many hapless legionnaires in their path. A few Legionnaires raised barriers of magic to try and stop the boulders but these hardly worked. There were shouts of alarm from the troops but they didn't break ranks, they couldn't. There were only so many boulders however and they could only kill so many before they would come to a...

Suddenly there was a massive explosion running all along the ranks of the Vanguard! Fire roared across the muddy field engulfing the whole area in flames! The heat was so intense it roasted the wings off the Seraph sending them tumbling down into the inferno screaming in terror. In the midst of the flames General Twostar could hear the screams of his ponies as they died in agony and terror. His mouth hung open in shock as a full tenth of his forces were obliterated in an instant.

Beyond the flames and the screams the slaves could be heard cheering and shouting curses at the dying unicorns. Twostar gritted his teeth in rage. With the sky cleared of Seraph's rebel pegasus ponies flew in fresh rain clouds and let the down pour snuff out the flames. The flames died away and the cooked solid was rapidly beginning to break down into mud once more mixed in with the charred and roasted bodies of the vanguard of Twostar's forces. Several Marksmages opened up the pegasi forcing them back with their fire but killed very few off them.

Twostar turned away from the carnage to his Signal officer who stood there still horror struck.

"Full attack," he ordered.

"But general," the signal officer choked out. "The fire... the stones!"

"They've already played their trump card," Twostar growled. "They cannot play it again."

"They have the high ground sir," the signal officer objected. "And the mud will slow us down, dozens will die!"

"Hundreds," Twostar corrected bitterly. "Signal the attack."

The signal officer looked ready to object again but nodded and relayed the order. Twostar watched as the next wave of troops moved into position. Fresh Legionnaires, Seraphs, and Knights in bright armor. They were clearly shaken by what they had just witnessed but he prayed that they could turn that shock into anger then direct it on the enemy. It would be a bloody day.

MLP:ED

"Archer's make ready!" Neratha heard Ardon call out. "Pegasi forward! Wipe the enemy fliers out!"

She stood among her kinfolk, fellow Sindarla with her bow gripped tightly in her hands. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she plucked up her first arrow and notched it to her bow string. Above Rainwalker and the pegasus ponies were moving to engage the enemy with all haste.

The enemy fliers would be the greatest threat to the Nor Menn's advantage of surprise. Thus while the Pegasus ponies moved to engage the flying Unicorns the Nor Menn kept themselves as low as possible trying to keep the advantage for the right moment. Now that oil trap had been used however it would be up to skill at arms and their cunning use of terrain to win the day.

She couldn't actual see the enemy, she was to far back from the hills edge and Ardon wanted it kept that way. The Clan Hunters would have to arc their shots into the enemy lines. They would be less accurate and less powerful but it would thin the enemy out. Once the Warriors charged down the slope the Clan Hunters would reposition themselves for more direct fire.

"Archers ready!" Fealen called out. "Archers draw!"

Neratha raised her longbow in unison with the rest of the Clan Hunters and drew back on the string till it was at full draw. She kept her breathing steady, refusing to allow her shot to fail.

"Fire!"

Neratha released her shaft along with the rest of the Clan Hunters as the Pegasus ponies clashed with the enemy fliers. The Arrows dropped past the battling ponies and down below the hill top. Cries of alarm and agony filled the air as the deadly darts fell among the Moon and Stars troops.

Neratha and the Clan Hunters were already sending up a second volley of shafts, followed by another and another. A deadly storm of arrow shafts fell upon the confused and alarmed unicorns below. No doubt they would be trying to defend themselves from the onslaught but were not going to stop their assault.

Within two minutes Neratha had loosed twenty arrows along with the rest of the Clan hunters, a deadly barrage of doom. Already hundreds if not thousands of Unicorns had been slain in this battle and the melee had yet to be joined. Four shafts later she was almost ready to switch to her second quiver.

"They've reached the base of the hill!" Some one, likely a pony shouted.

"Stand!" Ardon called out.

As one the Nor Menn warriors rose to their feet and drew their weapons. The Clan Hunters launched another volley before pausing for the assault.

Then Ardon waved his sword in the air and shouted, "FOR THE NORTH!" Then he lead the roaring Nor Menn charge. The Ponies surged after them and the Clan Hunter rushed forwards to take up their new position.

The Nor Menn assault caught the Moon and Stars troops completely off guard. They had expected a counter charge but never before had they seen the roaring howling mass of a Nor Menn charge. Warriors literally slid down the muddy slopes to accelerate themselves into the fray. The Moon and Stars Unicorns tried to form up into a defensive line but the Nor Menn were on them to quickly!

Maces shattered skulls, swords and axes hacked off limbs, and spears impaled the helpless front ranks of the Unicorn lines. Axe Throwers tossed their weapons into the enemy lines brutally cutting down several in their first assault. The former slaves then smashed into the Unicorn's adding their weight and fry into the fight. From on high upon the hill top the Clan Hunters sent deadly accurate shafts into the pony lines picking off any they could.

The Unicorns reacted quickly however. They adjusted their magical missile assault to fire on the bulk mass of the assault cutting down many who were now exposed on the slopes of the hill. Younger ponies rushed in, fillies and colts to young to fight dragged the wounded back up the slopes to the waiting care of Avariel Healers. Many Clan Hunters adjusted their fire to assault the unicorn shooters but most were at the extreme limits of their range.

The Nor Menn and former slaves forced the Unicorns from the slopes and into the clearing proper fighting without any mercy. The Unicorns were responding in kind, bringing fresh troops into the fray and redoubling their ranged attacks. True battle had at last been joined, and their fates now rested in their luck and skill at arms.

MLP:ED

Rainwalker took extreme satisfaction as he rammed his spear through the side of a Seraph. The Unicorn mare gave a strangled cry of pain before Rainwalker kicked off her, withdrawing his spear intact. She tumbled to the raging ground battle below and disappeared amidst the mass of thrashing bodies in the mud. Satisfied with his kill her turned his attention back to the raging air battle.

The Moon and Stars Seraphs well out numbered the pegasus ponies, certainly many had been killed in the oil trap but that had been but a small part of their numbers. The Seraphs also had launched a brief barrage of spells at the Pegasus, thinning their numbers out before engaging. The Seraphs were likely better trained and more experienced but they had a few key flaws that the pegasus ponies could exploit.

First was that the Seraph's artificial wings were very fragile and combined with the heavier armor they wore made them much less maneuverable and far slower than the pegasi. Secondly they did poorly in close quarters combat focusing mostly on air support with their spells rather than combat. Last of all, they lacked the sheer desire for vengeance that filled Rainwalker and his fellow pegasi. They ganged up on the Seraphs, tearing at their wings with hooves and teeth. Once their wings were damaged the Seraphs were helpless, falling to their deaths bellow if the pegasi didn't kill them out right.

Rainwalker quickly picked out another target, another Seraph near the edge of the fighting. She was trying to cast support spells on the fighting below. Rainwalker sped towards her but she saw him coming. She cancelled her spell and tried to turn to run. Rainwalker was faster however and quickly got in above her aiming for a strike to the throat.

At the last second the Seraph rolled away and came about to face him, her horn glowing with magic. She fired off a blast of spell energy at him which he dove under. By his good fortune the blast hit another Seraph instead illicit a harsh laugh from him as he moved to engage at close quarters.

The Seraph beat her butterfly wings furiously trying to increase the distance between them as she readied another blast. He dodge the attack and swooped in for the kill going for her belly. A swift flurry of kicks however snapped the tip off his spear rendering the weapon essentially useless. Rainwalker pulled back for a moment and the Seraph fired off yet another blast of magic. Once more he evaded the attack and then closed once more to engage with his iron shod hooves.

His first strike struck the Seraph in the chest, denting in her plate armor. His second struck her across the face breaking bone and knocking out a few teeth. His third struck her right hind lend which broke with a resounding crack. His final two strikes he landed right to her feeble wings which shattered like glass. She fell away with a terrified scream down to the melee below.

Fierce cries from across the field told him that the Snow Striders and their riders had just engaged in the battle, sending showers of arrows in the Unicorn lines before falling back into the safety of the trees.

Then shouts of alarm came from the rear of the enemy lines. Rainwalker turned to see what was going on and cursed at what he saw. Five large Fire Birds had been summoned by the enemy and were now closing to engage in the aerial battle. Jets of flame burst forth from their golden beaks roasting any who got in their path friend or foe. Several of Rainwalker's Pegasi were beginning to fall back in the face of the assault.

Thinking quickly he dropped down to the hill top where the Clan Hunters were firing up on the enemy. The Faesage was there with her kins folk, and she waved up at him as he approached.

"You need some help?" She asked brightly.

"Buck yes we do," Rainwalker replied.

"Draw them them," the Faesage ordered. "We'll see what we can do."

Rainwalker nodded and sped back into the air. He quickly rallied his ponies and had them form up into loose formations, better to protect themselves from the flames. They made a series of mock charges at the Fire Birds drawing them steadily closer to the hill top. The avian beasts were more than happy to oblige him, though not without forcing them to pay a harsh toll. More than a dozen of Rainwalker's Pegasus ponies were roasted alive for their efforts.

"Look out up there!" Rainwalker heard Merricle call from below.

"Break!" He shouted and the Pegasus ponies scattered.

A storm of arrows rose up from the Clan Hunters! They tore into the Fire Birds who gave shrieking cries of pain before they crumbled into glowing orbs and fell to the ground amidst the raging battle. They would likely not survive the fury about them and be destroyed before they could recover themselves. Rainwalker shot the Faesage a salute before falling back to rearm himself with a fresh spear.

There were still more Unicorns to kill, and his blood lust had yet to be sated.

MLP:ED

Ardon's sense were almost completely overwhelmed by the information he was having to process in the chaos. The smells mud, blood, entrails, brains, shit, burnt flesh, and melted steel left his nose stunned. His body was numb from every blow he had swung or parried, sweat covering his skin in icy sheets mixing with hot blood and thick mud. He was deafened by the clash of weapons, war cries of the living, the moans of the wounded, the screams of the dying, and the roars of the victorious. His eyes saw all of the battle, all of its grizzly horror and glory.

He watched as a Nor Menn Raider hewed his way through two Legionnaires before a Knight's Morning star caved in his skull. A Beserker smash his way through a trio of unicorns with a single sweep of his mattock, splintering bones and armor as he went before a magical blast hit him in the shoulder. The Berserker shrugged off the wound before splitting the offending Legionnaire's skull with his mattock only for three of the Legionnaire's fellows to drive their spears into him. This left them exposed however to a counter attack by a Wanderer and group of four Earth ponies who cut them apart.

He saw a Unicorn lying belly up in the mud, one eye pulped by a blow trying to keep his entrails from spilling out into the mud from a gaping wound on his chest, screaming for his mother with tears pouring from his good eye. An Axe Thrower mercifully ended the wretches suffered with a blow to the neck before tossing one of his weapons into another Legionnaire. He then tried to throw a second axe at a knight only for the Unicorn to bring up its shield and caught the blow. With a sweep of his morning star the knight crushed the Axe Thrower's legs out from under him and sent the warrior screaming into the mud. A second blow ended the Axe Thrower's life.

He watched a freed slave wrestling a knight into the mud, pounding on the armored warrior's helmet with a iron shoe. The Knight was struggling against the Earth pony but couldn't not throw his opponent off. A few seconds of frantic struggling later the Knight was drowned dead in the mud.

And Ardon saw his own arms moving up and down in a relentless repetition as he carved open throats and bodies, severed limbs and shattered bones. He saw his hands draw out his knife and jam it into the eye socket of the closest unicorn before slashing its throat open. A knight charged and lashed out with its morning star only for Ardon's feet to move him deftly aside. He then saw his foot crash down on the chain holding the weapon in place and forcing the Knight into the mud. His foot slammed down upon the back of the knights helmet and he could hear the knight screaming frantically even as a Legionnaire closed on Ardon. Without lifting his foot from his first foe he swung his bastard sword clear through the Legionnaire's neck, decapitating it. A moment later the knight stopped moving, dead in the mud. He saw his sword rise into the air and then deliver a final crushing stab through the knights throat before he at last his brain caught up with the rest of the world.

The Nor Menn assault had gone very well, far better than Ardon had anticipated. The first enemies he had faced had only been able to gape at him with the same mixture of confusion and horror before they had been felled by his sword. The Nor Menn had penetrated deep into the confused, clogged, and messy ranks of the Unicorns.

Confusion had quickly worn off however and the Unicorns had counter attacked with alarming speed throwing their Legionnaires and Knights forwards without pity of remorse. The Nor Menn advance had begun to slow and then at last break into a brutal close up and personnel stalemate. Many Nor Menn and their pony allies had already fallen.

Still the Nor Menn had the advantage for the moment. The mud made the heavily armored unicorns slow and cumbersome preventing them from bringing the full weight of their numbers to effect. The Nor Menn and former slaves were lighter and faster, little hindered by the muck as they hack, smashed, stabbed, and slashed at their foes. The front lines had devolved into a massive free for all brawl. For every Nor Menn who fell three unicorns died in agony.

The Nor Menn could not be everywhere at once however and many of the former slaves lay among the dead or the wounded. Worse the Nor Menn were beginning to tire after over a half hour of brutal close quarters combat. There was no rest for the weary, pure adrenaline had to keep them moving and fighting or they would be slaughtered. He also knew the Clan Hunters and Snow Striders would soon run out of ammunition forcing them to engage in close quarters if they hoped to remain effective on the battlefield. A glance up told him that Rainwalker had yet to secure air dominance. Every now an again a Unicorn or Pegasus would tumble from the sky to come crashing down to the muddy ground, likely to die in the confusion.

Another knight charged him and Ardon was forced to jump back to avoid the morning star. He rushed in to close with the Knight, swing his bastard sword high. The Knight blocked the attack with his shield then swung the morning star back for another blow. Ardon yanked out his knife and slashed it through the eye slit of the knights helmet. The Knight scream in agony as blood pour out of his slashed eyes, his magic control of his weapons failing. Ardon finished him with a thrust to the heart.

Suddenly a blast of magic struck him the chest, burning through his jerkin and making the mail underneath the impact white hot. Ardon howled in pain as molten iron dripped out of the hole to fall into the mud, he could feel his under shirt scorched. He struggled back up to a large Unicorn Stallion with an ornate helm standing before him with a large falchion floating in the air next to him.

"I don't know what you are monster," the stallion snarled. "But you and your mongrel kin will not survive this day!"

"I would say the same to you," Ardon croaked, his throat dry from exhaustion.

He raised his sword up into a ready grip as the stallion charged towards him. Their blades clashed in the air three times before they broke apart. Again they charged, Ardon trying to get passed the sword to attack the stallion , while the stallion tried to work his blade to get at Ardon. They were to evenly matched however, sloshing about in the mud, swords clashing repeatedly in a furious storm of sparks.

Despite himself, Ardon couldn't help but revel in the fury of the duel as he avoided death by the narrowest of margins. He prayed that the ponies had more warriors like this stallion and Sheriff Silverstar. It made things more fun, more glorious, the thrill of battle and death, the feel of sweat running across his skin and his blood burning beneath his flesh. He felt more alive in moments like this than he did at any other time in his thus far brief and brutal life.

Then he over stepped. Seeing the opening the Stallion swung at his sword hand, Ardon pulled back in time to avoid losing a hand but lost his grip on his sword. He yanked out his knife parrying the next attack but now finding himself on the defensive. The Stallion pressed the attack with a flurry of blows that Ardon struggled to fend off with his knife. He snatched up a Raider's fallen shield and caught the falchion on the wooden bulwark. He rushed forward, charging as the Stallion struggled to pull his weapon free.

Ardon swung at the Stallion with his knife but the blow was deflected off the stallions helmet. The Stallion shoved him back and Ardon slipped, tumbling back into the mud. The Stallion was on him in seconds, raining a blows on him with his hooves, pounding on the shield Ardon had grabbed. He could feel the wood getting ready to give as he struggled to throw the Stallion off him.

There was a wild war scream from above as something crashed into the Stallion knocking him off of Ardon. Ardon scrambled to his feet and saw Rainwalker thrashing about in the mud with the Stallion, kicking and biting at one another. Ardon tossed aside his ruined shield, snatched up his sword then shoved Rainwalker off the Stallion.

"What the hay are you doing?" Rainwalker demanded.

"This is my fight!" Ardon snarled angrily. "Don't you dare interrupt!"

Ardon then kicked the Stallion's sword over to him as the Unicorn pushed himself back up. The Stallion spat out a glob of blood before levitating the sword back into the air. Ardon gave out another war cry and charged in once more. The Stallion meet his assault swinging his blade telekenetically towards Ardon's throat.

Once again Ardon slipped on the muddy ground and the Stallion's blow missed. Ardon saw his opening and stabbed upwards. His bastard sword went straight through the Stallion's throat. The Stallion's eyes widened for a moment in shock before going glossy. Ardon pulled his sword free and let the body fall to the mud.

"Why did you stop me?" Rainwalker demanded.

"You don't interrupt a battle like that," Ardon growled noticing that the battle above was at least now in the Nor Menn's favor. "It robs it of the glory and the honor."

"What the hay do I care about honor?" Rainwalker spat. "A dead Unicorn is a dead unicorn."

Before Ardon could reply there came a great howling from the west. Sure enough he could see them, through the carnage, and chaos. Mounted upon great dire wolves, wielding their massive great swords, and howling along with their bestial mounts, Clan Krast's warriors smashed into the enemies lines. The Riders leaped from the backs of their mounts to join them in battle.

Dire wolves tore through the flanks with a savage merciless fury. They mauled down screaming unicorns, tearing at their throats and slashing their eyes with claws. The riders hewed down any foe who tried to attack their wolves without pity or mercy. A perfect blend of savagery and power.

The Moon and Stars troops finally had enough at this and began to make a panicked retreat while the Nor Menn and their pony allies cheered on the new comers before joining the pursuit. Ardon pushed passed Rainwalker to join the fray.

"We'll finish this later," he growled before running to join to rout.

The Moon and Stars troops fled the field in a complete confusion and disorder. The Slave Warriors who had been kept in reserve quickly changed sides to help the Nor Menn, scattering and capturing many of the enemy. They pursued the Unicorns all the way back to their base camp an quickly overran its defenses, smashing down its gates and overpowering its few guards. Banners of Moon and Stars were stripped down and thrown into the dirt where they were trampled and spit upon or taken as trophies.

They then began to loot the camp taking anything that wasn't nailed down. They broke open the slave pens, freeing dozens of more pegasus and earth ponies. They took works of art, books, scrolls, money, jewels, weapons, armor, medicine, bandages, blankets, and most importantly they took all of the food and drink. They also took dozens of prisoners.

Ardon's warriors were cheering and shouting with delight as they joined with the warriors of Clan Krast in celebration of their victory. Amidst the joy however was sorrow. Of the nearly two thousand seven hundred warriors who had started the battle, well over six hundred were dead and twice as many were wounded. Moon and Stars had paid a dearer toll however. Less than five hundred unicorns had escaped the massacre and almost all of the nearly two thousand slave warriors brought from Stalliongrad had defected.

As someone began to strike up a song of victory and the drink was brought forth Ardon at last managed to find Jarl Krast. The Jarl had been lifted up onto the shoulders of some of his men, his blood splattered great sword held high in the air in triumph. He looked every bit the conquering hero the warriors wanted right now.

"My lord," he called pushing his way through the crowd.

The Jarl noticed him and bid his warriors put him on the ground. He was still grinning when he pulled Ardon into a half hug.

"Was wondering if you lot would show," Ardon said with a grin.

"I had to leave my foot men behind," Jarl Krast admitted. "They should be able to clean up."

"What news of Stalliongrad and the King?" Ardon asked.

The Jarl shrugged.

"They should have attacked the city by now," he answered. "We should know the answer to that very soon."

Ardon nodded then grabbed a pair of ale mugs from a table that hadn't been knocked over yet.

"To victory my lord," he said giving the Jarl one of the mugs and raising his own.

"To the North," Jarl Krast laughed before they smacked there mugs together and drank.

Author's Note

Next stop, Stalliongrad! Time to see if this gambit paid off.

Storming of Stalliongrad

Stalliongrad was an old city. It had been one of the Earliest pony settlements in Equestria after they had come out of the north over a thousand of years before hand. Long it had stood near enough to the northern border to have seen many a clash with the Griffions. Many times it had been assailed but each time the Griffions had broken their armies against its defenders.

Many Unicorns called the city home so when Equestria had broken up and House Moon and Stars rose to power they had known instantly which side was theirs. Stalliongrad had become the part of the industrial backbone of House Moon and Stars producing many ships, war machines, suits of armor, and weapons. These were not the shoddy constructs of the slave domes but the work of expert Unicorn craftsmen who had learned their skills at the side of their parents until the time came for them to inherit the craft and pass it down to their offspring.

Now in the predawn hours however it would face a new foe, one that its defenders had not trained to face in over a thousand years. The Nor Menn had come at last.

Prince Jonn Snowdragon could see the city walls for where he stood just outside the Royal Pavilion. He was young and strong, a youth of sixteen with dark hair he had recieved from his mother and her Krast family. He was often considered quiet and withdrawn, much like his father was sometimes seen as. Still he had a keen mind like his father and he could tell just by looking at the walls of Stalliongrad that the hastily implemented plan had worked. Stalliongrad was undermanned, ill prepared for the storm that was to come.

He turned around and walked back into the pavilion. His father, King Rhaegastar Dragonsfury stood with many jarls, lords, and chieftains about a large table with a quickly drawn map of the terrain around the city. The only notable jarls not present were Jarl Stannith Furysheart, who was at sea with the fleet, ready to attack from the coast, and his cousin Jarl Robvin Krast was in the west riding to the rescue of the diversionary force. He hoped that they would not have need of Clan Krast's fierce warriors.

"I want the assault to begin at sun rise," his father told the various Jarls, lords, and chieftains. "Few of the defenders will be up by then, most will likely still be in their beds."

"Who will lead the assault on the main gate?" Jarl Valkar Hammerhelm asked.

"My son will," the King replied. Jonn had expected this but still there was murmurs amongst the commanders.

"With all respect your grace," Jarl Hammerhelm growled. "It would do us ill to send an untested boy against the defenses."

"The gods decree it so," a new voice said.

All turned to see High Priest Garren Hauk, standing just behind Jonn at the entrance to the pavilion. He was leaning on the staff of his office and watching Jarl Hammerhelm with a dark gaze.

"The bones last night confirmed it," the high priest continued. "The Prince shall lead the assault on the gate and I shall go with him."

"I am honor to have you fight by my side," Jonn said with a small bow to the high priest.

"Very well," Hammerhelm growled.

The king nodded.

"Once the gate is breached we shall sweep into the city," he said. "Jarl Furysheart and the fleet will join us from the coast and we will take the city in a pincer. I do not want a repeat of St. Trottersburg. I want this city intact."

"As do we all," one of the Chieftain said, "its hard to loot molten gold. I'm not trying that again."

This got a few laughs out of the assembled commanders. The King smiled.

"We must also break the cages of any ponies who are enslaved," he said. "They will be confused and scared but if we help them they may fight for us."

"Or just get in the way," Jonn heard Jarl Hammerhelm mutter.

The King then rolled up the map.

"If that is all my lords I would like a moment with my son before the bloodshed begins," he said. "Prepare your men and await my signal."

Jonn stepped aside to allow them passage. Several gave him nods of respect or a clap on the shoulder. Before long however it was just he and his father inside the pavilion. For a man on the cusp of a great victory, Jonn thought his father looked paler and thinner than he usually did. He waited however for his father to speak first as was custom.

"I've given you my best men for the assault," he said quietly, not looking up at him. "Follow their lead and you'll be fine."

"I know father," Jonn replied. "I will make you proud."

"Bah," his father said with a wave of his hand. "Many a father wants his son to go out, win glory, charge an unbeatable enemy, and die a hero. I want you to come back alive and strong. I want you to have a wife and children, to enjoy long summers of peace and plenty, I want you to grow old and see grand children be born before you go to Valhalla."

His father sighed looking back down at his hands. "I don't want you to have to bury wives and children, not like I have."

Jonn could not help but feel for his father at this. His fathers first wife had been a beautiful noble woman from Turmgypt. She had given him to children before she and both children had died in a raid by another clan whom his father had then utterly annihilated. His second wife, Jonn's mother had been the daughter of the then lord of Clan Krast. She had died in the aftermath of child birth, giving life to Jonn.

He walked over to his father and pulled him into a hug. His father returned the embrace.

"I promise I'll do all of that," Jonn replied. "So long as you promise to live long enough to see your own grandchildren."

His father gave a small laugh.

"Then we have an accord," he said as they broke apart. He smiled at Jonn with tears forming in his eyes. He then placed his hands on Jonn's shoulders. "Remember my son," he continued. "We fight not for our own glory but for the future of our people. What shall you give your enemies?"

"Fire and steel," Jonn replied automatically.

"Damn right," his father said releasing him. "Now get going."

MLP:ED

Garren Hauk was still unused to his new role as the High Priest. He had known he would eventually assume this role but he had believed it would be when he was older, and more importantly wiser. He was the youngest High Priest in centuries, and in such momentus times as these experince was often better than untested youth.

Speaking of untested youth, he thought to himself as the Prince approached, accompanied by a sizable group of Huskrals.

"My prince," he greeted with a half bow.

"High Priest," the Prince replied in an even tone. "Are the warriors prepared?"

"See for yourself," Garren replied motioning to collection of Nor Menn warriors who had been waiting behind him. There were about a hundred raiders, eighty axe throwers, ninety Clan Hunters, twenty Wanderers, sixty Berserkers, ten Avariel Healers, twenty Snow Striders, thirty Spell Warders, forty of Garren's own War Priests, and four Portable Rams. This would be joined with the Princes own sixty Huskrals to produce a force of around five hundred warriors. In most circumstances this would be a considerable fighting force but as Garren turned his eyes on the walls of Stalliongrad which loomed in the predawn gloom he wondered if they would be enough.

Stalliongrad's walls were not the rundown mess that St. Trottersburg's walls had been but a true fortification that was well maintained. They were twenty feet high, and made of well cut and fitted granite of a dark color with hard crenelations at the top giving the defenders excellent cover from missile fire. The gate itself was surrounded set back into the wall so it was covered on both flanks by walls and four high towers with many slits through which enemy missile troops could rain shots down on attackers.

He felt a hand set upon his shoulder and he turned to see the Prince beside him looking calm and composed.

"We can handle it," he said firmly. "They won't no what hit them."

Garren nodded. "I assume you have a plan."

The Prince nodded as well be getting up on a fallen log where everyone could see him.

"Listen up!" He called out. "I want everyone to form up in a square! Huskrals and Spell Warders up front in a shield wall formation. Keep the Rams right behind them and Berserkers behind the Rams. Raiders on the flanks with Axe Throwers right behind them on both flanks. Snow Striders and Healers to the back, everyone else in the middle supporting however they can. Once we reach the Gate the Raiders will assault the walls while the Rams hit the gate. Once the gate is breached the Berserkers charge in, everyone else right behind them got it?"

There was a chorus of shouts of conformation.

"Alright!" The Prince continued! "Form up then! Dawns coming quick!"

With a considerable amount of commotion and jostling. It took several minutes but eventually the Nor Menn strike force was in proper formation. Garren found himself beside the Prince in the formation. Now that the time was drawing close to the assault he could see anxiety on the Prince's face.

"Did your bones tell you how this battle would fall out?" The Prince asked him quietly.

"They seemed to have skipped over that matter," he admitted.

"Wonderful," the Prince muttered.

A moment later the sun's light began to peak over the walls. And with the dawn came the ringing of bells as the city raised the alarm. The Nor Menn war horns, pipes, and drums answered the bells with equal volume, the cacophony of battle, the music of war was filling the air. Garren cleared his throat and readied his staff, its steel blade blazing in the light.

"Forward!" The Prince shouted.

MLP:ED

The cacophony of noise around Jonn was all but deafening as his forces advanced towards the walls of Stalliongrad. The Nor Menn kept a tight formation, a rare sight for their usually more stung out and informal lines of battle. But with the Huskrals of the Royal house in the lead the men followed their orders without question.

To the left and right of his formation the armies of the other clans were charging the walls, Raiders threw up grappling hooks while Balistas sent their bolts flying up at the walls defenders. He could also hear the cries of the dying both human and pony. Even with its defenders mostly stripped by the revolt to the north west, Stalliongrad still had some teeth.

Out at sea he knew the fleet under Jarl Furysheart was trying to break through the harbor defenses and the defenses on the rivers. Stalliongrad was surrounded on all sides by rivers, with one going right up through the middle of the city. If they controlled the rivers they controlled Stalliongrad.

Then streams of magical energy came raining down on them and the Huskrals brought up their shields. Everyone else raised their shields over their heads or switched it to their right hand to better cover everyone in the formation. Magical bolts burned sizzling craters into the wood and hide shields but very few got through. A few warriors in the formation fell with cries of pain but the Avariel were on them in seconds with spells of healing.

"Keep going!" He shouted. "Don't stop advancing!"

They got a few about ten yards forwards before a second wave came. Once again shields were raised and the formation took the punishment. More men fell but to the fortune of the Nor Menn most shots were striking the thick shields and heavy mail of the Huskrals who pressed onwards.

Jonn could see the enemy defenders now, a top the walls. There couldn't be more than a hundred of them, all unicorns. A few hd set themselves up with some sort of device to help them aim and amplify their magic but most were just using their bare horns. It was clear that the ones who were just using their horns were quickly becoming exhausted.

Another volley came and once more struck shields and men. Now however they were in range for the Clan Hunters to retaliate. Arrows shot up from the formation raining down on the enemy fortifications. Two unicorns fell from the walls with screams of pain while others tumbled back onto the ramparts. Still only a handful of shots had found their mark.

Another volley came, smoke rising from the front of the line as burning holes smoldered. A few more of Jonn's warriors fell, dead or wounded but now they had passed the first towers.

"Raiders now!" He shouted.

On his command the Raiders broke from the formation and began hurling their grappling hooks up onto the walls. The Unicorns on the walls clearly seemed taken aback by this strange tactic at fist but when they saw the Nor Menn warriors begin to scale their walls they reacted quickly. Several rained shots down on exposed Raiders killing several of them. Others began trying to cut through the thick knotted ropes the Raiders climbed. Several Raiders fell, some from perilously great heights.

Clan Hunter, Axe Throwers, and Snow Striders sent arrows and axes up at the walls cutting down several more of the defending unicorns. The cover they provided was more than enough for the Raiders to gain the top of the wall and meet their foes in single combat at last. Unicorns meet them head on jabbing with spears and swinging morning stars but the the Nor Menn Raiders were more numerous and more savage fighters. Jonn watched a screaming Unicorn thrown from the wall by two Raiders.

Now however the Nor Menn had reached the gates and the Huskrals broke their formation to allow the rams through. Still the few Unicorns who were clear rained shots down on them while others bushed stones or buckets of boiling oil. Men cried out in pain but the rams reached the gates.

All four rams began to pound on the wooden gate in rapid succession. The rhythmic crash of forge iron heads upon the shuddering wooden gates was all that mattered. Wood splintered and cracked under the heavy blows until one of the rams broke right through one section.

Instantly several bolts of magic shot through the hole the ram had made striking two of the crew, killing one out right and wounding the other. Clan Hunters rushed up to the gap and sent their arrows back through in retaliation. Jonn didn't know if they had hit anything, given the screams above and around him but he certainly hoped the shots softened the enemy up slightly.

Then with one final crash the gates burst open! With savage roars the Berserkers rushed forwards only for a bout half to be cut down in a volley of magical bolts ad a single massive beam of golden energy that tore through the center of the Berserkers mob. Waiting for the Nor Menn were a sturdy force of Unicorn Knights, Marksmages, and a large war machine of some sort. It looked similar to the devices used by the mad ponies in St. Trottersburg but was much more lens like rather than a large iron barrel.

"High Priest," he said to Garren. "We need your blessing."

"Right you are," the High Priest replied before raising his staff. His fellow War Priests did like wise beginning a chant. Then he spoke in the ancient speech of men. "Stige krigerne i nord! Slipp løs din harme over forespørselslinjen!"

Lightning crackled along the War Priests staves and shot into the warriors about them. Instantly the whole world took on a red tint for Jonn as he felt rage, adrenaline, and strength filling every fiber of his being. With an animalistic roar he charged the gate, surrounded by his brothers and sisters of the North.

The Unicorns tried to slow them with another volley of magical bolts but these did little to deter the battle crazed Nor Menn. In seconds the humans were on them hacking them apart with their weapons, beating them with their fists, and crushing them under their boot heels. The smart unicorns ran, while the stupid or very brave ones died right then and there.

The Nor Menn had come to Stalliongrad, like a savage storm from the north seas.

MLP:ED

Starlight Singer was a fairly young Unicorn Mare. She'd been only a foal when the sisters had vanished and her parents had quickly fallen in with the rise of House Moon and Stars. She'd always believed in the superority and holy purpose of the Unicorns, they who had been chosen to lead Equestria in this dark hour.

Now however as she stared out the window of Stalliongrad's citadel she felt only the deepest of despair.

Whoever or whatever these creatures were they were crushing the cities defenses with alarming ease. The gates had fallen not five minutes ago and now were on a rampage across the city. Some swept more defenders from the walls while others set about looting, still more had broken off to the slave pens and were even now overwhelming the guards.

It would not be long before barbarians and mud ponies would overrun the city and its brave defenders. Knowing this the Governor had ordered any important documents that could not be evacuated to Canterlot via portal were to be destroyed at once. It broke her heart to be forced to torch so many valuable tomes and scrolls, some of which were among the last surviving copies of their makers work.

"Move it move it!" Governor Jet Set shouted as she tossed more scrolls into the fire with magic. "I don't know who or what these things are but they are not getting all our secrets on my watch!"

Starlight wondered how much of that was the houses secrets or his own. Despite being married to Governor Upper Crust of Struttgart it was a known fact that in her absence the Governor had not been the most faithful of husbands. There were even a few rumors of a bastard filly or colt or two which the Governor worked very hard to keep hushed up.

Just as she picked up yet another stack of scrolls a battered knight stumbled into the office. The stallion's helm was dented a shaft of wood with feathers on one end was sticking out his left side. Blood dripped onto the floor with every step he took.

"Governor," he panted. "The enemy ships have broken through the harbor defenses, their sailing up river."

"What?" Jet Set demanded. "How in Celestia's name are they doing that! The rivers to shallow for any of our ships?"

"They looked like their short on the draft," the knight said as Starlight rushed over to help him with his wounds.

"Hold still," she said.

He nodded to her and grit his teeth. She wrapped the shaft in magical energy and then pulled as hard as she could. The Knight barely held back his scream as the barbed head of the projectile was torn out of his side. Quickly she set about with a healing spell, knitting tissue and sinyews.

"How long until they reach the Citadel?"

"Not long," the Knight said clearly still in great pain. "There are to many of them and once they free the slaves..."

At that moment another shaft of wooden projectile flew through the window and narrowly missed the Governor's head. He ran to the window and then swore violently.

"They're at the gates of the Citadel!" He exclaimed. "We're out of time!"

"My lord we aren't done yet!" A young unicorn said in a panic.

"Torch the rest of it and open the portal to Canterlot!" Jet Set ordered. "We are leaving!"

With a minute the unicorns had opened the portal and Jet Set was among the first through. Right behind him went several of the other nobles and mages. A few had heavy bundles in saddle bags, priceless documents that could not be allowed to be destroyed.

Starlight helped the Knight over to the portal.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Hard Barding," he replied.

"Well Mr. Barding if we don't get executed by the inquisition do you want to go out some time?"

"Sure," he said as the sound of a crash from down stairs reached their ears. "Why not."

With that they stepped through the portal together and were gone in an instant. Stalliongrad, one of the greatest cities of Northern Equestria, had fallen in less than half an hour.

Author's Note

Sorry this took oh so long to make and post. I had considerable delays and found myself distracted by other projects. Its also a bit shorter than I would have liked but I figured it was good enough to post up. Good news is we're roughly forty to thirty percent of the way through this story now, or at least the Nor Menn part of it. For those of you waiting on other human groups be patient, they're coming.

Shockwaves

Starlight Singer had never been so terrified in all her life as she was now as she waited in the antechamber to the throne room of the royal palace in Canterlot. She knew she was not alone in her anxieties, not under the watch full eyes of a dozen Inquisitors and three times that in knights of both Celestia and Luna. They were caught in the web of Canterlot politics and unless she played it smart she would likely not survive this visit to the capital.

It had been two weeks since the escape from Stalliongrad and since then all of those who had escaped with Governor Jet Set had been held as "guests" of the Inquisition. She knew that the rumor mill was already stiring and despite the Inquisitions best efforts at information control it would eventually get out that Stalliongrad had fallen. The formal hearing regarding the fall of the city was due to begin any minute now.

There came the sound of hooves against stones and she glanced over her haunches to see several others arriving. She shuddered at the sight of them. If she and those who had escaped Stalliongrad looked bad then these poor gentlecolts looked worse.

A few were knights of Celestia but others were officers in the Royal legions. Several were wearing layers of bandages. Their once pristine white armor was ruined with rust and dried blood. The worst part however were there eyes, hollow and dead looking.

"Survivors of Twostar's expedition," Hard Barding whispered to her. "Looks like they had it far worse than we did."

"What in Celestia's name is happening?" Starlight replied.

Before they could wonder any further at this the doors to throne room opened and they were ordered on in. Starlight felt fear grip her heart as she realized just who would be handling their interrogation; Archmagister Twilight Sparkle, Prince Shining Armor, Princess Cadence, and Grand Inquisitor Trixie Lulamoon. Nobody said anything as they were ushered into place, all of them bowing before the Royals.

"This hearing is now coming to order," the Grand Inquisitor began. "The accused, Governor Jet Set of Stalliongrad is accused of dereliction of duty in the defense of the northern border, allowing for a wide scale slave revolt, the fall of the city of Stalliongrad, and the loss of more than seven thousand troops. How does the accused plead?"

"N-not guilty my lady," Jet Set stammered.

"Very well then," the Grand Inquisitor replied her eyes narrowing. "Tell us in your own words of the events of the month of October which lead to the fall of Stalliongrad in your own words."

Jet set visibly gulped before starting.

"The first I heard of trouble were reports in mid October attacks upon merchant caravans and homesteads in the Goldenleaf woods. General Twostars forces were wintering in the area and I assume he would handle it. It is due to his incompetence..."

"General Twostar," Shining Armor interrupted, "died on field of battle with his ponies in compliance with an officer of his position. Take care not sully the name of a close friend of mine Governor."

"My apologies," Jet Set said quickly. "But it stands that the late General had command of all military forces in the Goldenleaf woods and failed to halt a growing slave uprising. He sent me a request for reinforcements and I obliged him with more than half my garrison. I thought that would be enough to put down a few slaves."

"But they weren't just slaves were they?" The Archmagister said coolly.

Jet Set said nothing to this.

"The Crown recognizes Knight-Lieutenant Bright Shield," the Grand Inquisitor said.

One of the battered knights was lead forward. It took a moment it seemed to register what was happening and make a rough jerk of a bow.

"Knight-Lieutenant Bright Shield," the Grand Inquisitor said. "You were one of the officers in General Twostar's expedition is that true?"

"Aye," he whispered his voice hollow and dead.

"Tell us in your own words of the events in the Goldenleaf woods," the Grand Inquisitor commanded.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts before Bright Shield began to speak.

"We received reports of the slaves having been sighted massing to the north of our encampment, roughly two thousand or more of them, on a hill top over looking a large clearing. General Twostar ordered us to march at once, before the slaves could move camp," he paused now for a breath, steadying himself. "All along the path we discovered what had become of our scouts. They'd been massacred and strung up from the trees along the path. Their bodies were desecrated and profaned by the enemy in ways I... I..."

"Calm yourself Knight-Lieutenant," Shining Armor said in a sympathetic tone of voice.

Bright Shield nodded and continued speaking.

"The General ordered the corpses cut down and given a proper burial. We continued the march however until we reached the field. We could see the slaves on top of the hill with some large boulders. They'd plowed up the field and soaked it until it was a swamp of mud. General Twostar ordered Marksmages to lay down covering fire while the vanguard advanced forwards. Then..."

He struggled for words and Starlight could feel only sympathy and pity for the poor stallion.

"Fire," he at last said. "Fire everywhere. They'd soaked the ground with oil and grease then light the boulders on fire and rolled them down the hill at the vanguard. Goddesses I can still hear the screams... We couldn't do anything to help them, it was to big for us and over to quickly."

"If it would please the court I would request that the Knight-Lieutenant be allowed to retire for now," Princess Cadence said.
Bright Shield however shook his head.

"The fires died down," he said. "The whole vanguard was gone and their Pegasi soaked the fields back into mud and ash. General Twostar ordered the next wave forward. As we advanced we got stuck in the mud just like the vanguard and then they started hitting up with sticks with iron tips. We raised shields but a more than a few were cut down. Then we started up the hill and... and..."

He swallowed.

"They came," he whispered. "Screaming down from the hill top in wolf furs, bear pelts, leather, and chain mail. They were huge, with big arms which they used two swing axes, hammers, swords, knives, and spears. They tore through a front lines like they were nothing. For every one of them we killed we lost three of our own. All the time they were howling like beasts, slaughtering us."

"These creatures can you describe them in further detail?" The Archmagister asked abruptly.

"They were pale and had lost of exposed skin," Bright Shield said slowly. "And they were strong. Stronger than we were. We fought on for hours and it looked like we might gain the advantage. Then they cut down the General and more of them came out of the woods on massive wolves, larger than most stallions. Discipline broke down and we ran for it. They hunted us all the way back to camp and over ran it before we could regroup. So we kept running and running until our hooves cracked and bleed."

"Thank you Knight-Lieutenant," the Grand Inquisitor said, not unkindly.

Gently Bright Shield was lead away and out of the throne room with his men. All eyes now turned to Jet Set.

"These same creatures as described by the Knight-Lieutenant attacked Stalliongrad at almost the same time?" The Grand Inquisitor half-asked and half-stated.

"Yes," Jet Set spluttered. "Near enough at least. They came under cover of night overwhelmed our naval forces with a fleet of longships and then assaulted the city from land and sea at dawn."

"And within a matter of hours they overwhelmed your depleted garrison and overran the city?"

"There were thousands of them," Jet Set objected, "and Twostar had wasted all of my troops with his debacle."

"At any point during the month of October did you attempt to send a report to Canterlot regarding the situation?" The Grand Inquisitor asked sharply.

"I thought it was just a slave uprising..." Jet Set said weakly. "A trivial matter that..."

"I have heard enough," the Archmagister said cutting him off. "Its clear to me that you're lacks vigilance is at fault. General Twostar did his duty while you sat in your tower and did nothing."

"Agreed," the Grand Inquisitor added. "Governor Twostar, this court hereby finds you guilty of all charges. Guards."

Before Jet Set could say anything in his defense two Inquisitorial troops moved up on either flank of the former Governor.

"Lock him away until such time as he is to be sentenced."

MLP:ED

As soon as the throne room was cleared Twilight shook her head in annoyance.

"Unbelievable," she muttered.

"Something you would like to tell us Archmagister?" Trixie asked tersely.

Twilight frowned at her, organizing her thoughts. She had never liked Trixie nor did she trust her. The power she wielded as High Inquisitor seemed to have gone straight to Trixie's already overly inflated ego. Still she did very well at her job, rooting out traitors and heretics from the land.

"I've once before seen a similar description to what the former Governor described," she explained. "Its unthinkable however that such creatures could be in Equestria."

"I think we are long passed the point of things being unthinkable sister," Shining Armor said.

"The description matches that of Ancient Humans," Twilight said.

Trixie gave a derisive snort at this.

"Ridiculous," she said. "Humans are little more than a myth. I would have thought you would be above such childish notions Archmagister."

"Then how would you describe the Knight-Lieutenant's testimony," Twilight asked?

"A terrified pony may see what he thinks," Trixie answered. "More likely what he saw was a rogue tribe of Diamond Dogs."

"That seems to me to be a very flimsy explanation," Cadance replied. "No one Diamond Dog tribe could make such a wide spread assault. Nor could they do it with such cunning."

"But seriously Humans?" Trixie said with a roll of her eyes. "Even if they did exist there is the ban to consider."

"It has been more than a thousand years since the exile of humanity from Equestria," Twilight replied. "Even the strongest magic can fade in such time."

"So what do we do?" Shining Armor asked. "It won't be long before our foes learn of our recent losses."

"We clamp down on information," Trixie replied. "The less the public knows about what has happened the better. I'll have my ponies work out a cover story. As for the traitors I believe that is your area of expertise."

"I'll deploy additional troops to our northern frontier," Shining Armor said with a nod. "I'll have the Hoofington Garrison go on full alert as well."

"I'll do some further research," Twilight added. "Perhaps learn something useful."

"Then we have our course of action," Cadance said with a nod of her own. "Dismissed."

MLP:ED

In the high towers of the fortress City of Manehattan a similar discussion was underway.

"You are sure of your agents?" Mistress Rarity said the crystals growing from her flesh crackling against one another.

"Beyond a doubt," Lady Fleur De Lis said in her musical tones. "My agents in Stalliongrad all send the same information and given that my agents in St. Trottersburg have been long overdue for checking in."

"Humans in Equestria," General Fancypants muttered, shaking his head. "I never imagined such a thing would happen in my life time. And the Nor Menn at that by the sounds of it."

"You know of these barbarians General?" Rarity asked.

"Just stories," Fancypants replied grimly. "Mostly from the foreign folk in the city. The Nor Menn are by far the most notorious of all the Human peoples in the world. They are vicious raiders, merciless warriors, and shrewd traders."

"My my don't they sound wonderful," Rarity said with a small smile.

"It is no laughing matter my Lady," the General replied seriously. "They've only been here a few months, if our good spy mistress is correct, and they've already taken two of the largest cities in the north."

"My apologies General," Rarity said. "What do you propose?"

The General frowned thinking quietly to himself for several moments. This was why Rarity liked the good General, he was a commander who thought with his brains rather than his ego. It was partly thanks to him that House Whitegold was the power that it was.

When Fancypants had been named Commander of House Whitegold's military and police forces most of the other houses had laughed. The idea of the kindly Canterlot noble leading Ponies into battle had been laughable. That was until he routed three separate and considerably larger armies of Houses Stormwing, Moon and Stars, and Earthborn all in a single day with minimal losses to his own forces. Fancypants had a keen and cautious tactical mind and tended to be more open to promoting officers based on merit rather than paid commisions.

"We need more information before we act," he said grimly. "But that does not mean we wait patiently for them to make the first move. We should increase our forces, both locally recruited and mercenary."

"A sensible first step," Fleur De Lis agreed with a nod. "I'll instruct my agents to gather anything they can about these humans. What their objectives are and what their intent is."

"Oh I think I can guess at those two," Fancypants replied. "Their objectives are conquest and their intent is war."

Stormbreak

The soft stroke of oars was all to loud for Ardon's liking as they made their way up river from Stalliongrad. It was four weeks since the taking of Stalliongrad, late November by Equestrian calenders, and now winter was beginning to settle in over Equestria. Cold winds blew in from the north, the river had a layer of gray fog hanging over it, and the first snows of winter were just now falling. They had left the forests of Goldenleaf well behind them now and were entering the open grass lands of the Northern Expanse. The grass was covered in thick layer of frost now, the skies overcast.

Stalliongrad had been given over to Jarl Furyheart to serve as a base of operations for the fleet. The Nor Menn had begun probing raids into Moon and Stars territory but for now stayed clear of major strongholds such as the Fortress of the Sun and cities such as Canterlot and Struttgart. The opening moves to a larger campaign the King planned to begin after the new year.

Thousands of freed slaves, Earth Ponies and Pegasus Ponies now served under Nor Menn lords and chieftains. The surviving Unicorns of value were being held prisoner for potential exchanges with Moon and Stars while the rest had to live now on equal level with Earth and Pegasus Ponies as second class citizens. As it stood Unicorns were forbidden from joining the Fyrd, the pony Militia's that fought under Nor Mennn command. This had been Rainwalker's decision, though Rainwalker had wanted every last unicorn associated with Moon and Stars put to death instead.

While the opening strikes against House Moon and Stars had been successful they had yet to face the other houses of Equestria in battle. So when Ardon's scouts had discovered a small encampment of forces of House Stormwing a few leagues north of a recently captured town called Riversplit and perilously close to Jarl Krast's new holdings at Featherfall Ardon had gone straight to the King to approve a force recon mission. The King had approved of it at once though had ordered Ardon to only take a small force.

He had brought only three longships, with roughly two hundred and twenty five fighting menn. As per usual thirty of those would stay with the ships to guard them against enemy attacks meaning his force was realy just under two hundred. Knowing that the Stormwing was supposed to field large numbers of Pegasus Ponies Ardon had picked forces he deemed best suited to the mission. Forgoing Berserkers, Huskrals, Spellwarders, and Rams Ardon had instead taken sixty Raiders, forty five Clan Hunters, twenty Wanderers, thirty Fyrd Pegasi, twenty Snow Striders, five War Priests, five Avariel Healers, and ten Valkyr Caladria.
Not far behind he knew Lethrook was bringing up two more Longships to serve as rearguard for his mission. Hopefully however Ardon would not need Lethrook's aid.

As he stalked along the deck of the Graybolt he noticed several of the Pegasus Ponies shivering slightly. This puzzeled him as everyone was bundled up fairly well against the cold. He sat down next to one of them a young mare who practically jumped in fright as he did so.

"My l-lord," she said stumbling over the words in the Nor Menn speech.

"At ease," he told her in Equestrian. "What is you name."

"Sunspark," she answered glancing up at the sky nervously.

"Good name," Ardon replied. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head.

"Nervous my lord," she answered.

"First time in battle?" He asked.

She shook her head again then glanced up at the skies again.

"Then what?" Ardon asked.

"Stormwing," she whispered. "They don't like Pegasi fighting for other armies. They say Stormwing has a kill on sight order for any Pegasus flying under another flag."

"Wouldn't it be over?" Ardon asked with a small smile.

"Pardon me my lord, but I don't see how that..."

"It was a joke," Ardon said raising a hand for pardon. "And you don't have to call me lord either. Chief Scout or Ardon will do fine. If you must you may call me sir."

"Yes sir," she said looking embarrassed.

"Just keep your head and you'll be fine," he told her. "This is going to be an in and out job. We'll be back on these ships in three hours at worst, sailing back for Stalliongrad."

She nodded but did not say anything more.

They continued in relative silence up the river for several more minutes, mist rising from their mouths with each breath. At last they reached a bank upon which they pulled up the longships and disembarked. They made their way inland in silence hugging the sparse cover. This kept on for several miles of silent prowling through the brush. Every now and again however someone would throw a look up at the skies watching the clouds for any movement. Any break in the clouds and beam of moonlight sent everyone to the grass for cover.

There was nothing however, no patrols in the night sky it seemed. That in of itself did not put Ardon at ease as he lead his troops along. For all they knew Storming's forces had already spotted them and were setting up an ambush somewhere ahead of them. He kept his fliers on the ground, making it easier to hide them.

After nearly an hour of slow marching they came upon a structure. It was a an earth and timber work encampment slightly larger than Ardon's base back in the Goldenleaf woods. Like a Nor Menn fort there were small platform towers around the perimeter walls which were manned by Earth ponies and unicorns. At one point however was a larger platform was a sizable bolt thrower.

"That could be trouble," Ardon muttered to himself eying at the bolt thrower.

Attacking this encampment would take careful planning and precise action. It would have to be done quickly however before dawn came and the garrison was placed on alert.

He motioned to his lieutenants who hurried over to join him.

"Fealen," he hissed. "I want your archers to pick off the sentries on my signal, which will be a howl. Quick and quiet."

"Understood," the Clan Hunter replied.

"At the same time I want Raiders to slip over the walls and get the gates open," Ardon ordered. "Pegasus Ponies, take out that bolt thrower. Last thing we need is that thing being used on us. Once the gate is open everyone rushes in. I want quick kills, quick and quiet understood?"

They nodded.

"Alright then signal with a wolf howl. Go," he whispered.

Quickly and quietly the Nor Menn took their assigned positions. As soon as Ardon heard the owl hoot signal from Fealen he checked the Raiders. They were ready to go as well, ready to rush the walls and get their hooks up. The Pegasus ponies including Sunspark were ready as well. He took a deep breath and made a fake wolf howl.

Like a breeze among grass arrows flew from the bows of Clan Hunters and struck their targets with lethal silence. No sound was made as the sentries collapsed dead, utterly silent. The Raiders rushed forward with their grappling hooks at the ready and threw them up onto the walls. Ardon winced as the iron hooks clacked against the wooden walls. The Pegasus Ponies shot up into the air silently as the Raiders rapidly scaled the walls.

Then there was a horn call from within the fort, echoing out into the night with a high harsh note of challenge! Ardon swore violently as the sound of rapid stamping of hooves came from within. The element of surprise was lost.

He yanked his sword out of its sheath and rose to his feet!

"FOR THE NORTH!" He roared rushing towards the gate. Horns sounded around him as the Caladria rose into the air along with the Avariel. The Fyrd dived into the fort as the Raiders scrambled over the walls. The Snow Striders, Wanderers, War Priests, and Clan Hunters rushed to the gate after Ardon.

He reached the gate and could hear battle cries from within and the clash of weapons. It took a moment before the gate was shoved open by a Raider and the rest of the Nor Menn poured into the camp.

The Stormwing Ground Guard had been caught completely off guard by the assault, most were still scrambling out of their barracks or hadn't pulled on their armor. Ardon grabbed a torch and slammed the door to one of the barracks shut. He could hear the ponies within shouting in alarm as he barred the door. He tossed one of the flasks of oil hanging about his waist into the barracks and then tossed the torch after it. The shouts quickly became screams as the barracks caught fire.

It was a grizzly act but necessary, they could not show quarter now. The Ground Guard were rapidly being overwhelmed throughout the fortress. They fell skewered by spears, slashed by swords, stabbed with knives, hewed by axes, and shot with arrows. It was a massacre, with more than one barracks being set on fire.

A chariot suddenly came clattering through the camp pulled by two ponies and a third on the cab jabbing at Nor Menn as they passed with a long spear. It caused considerable trouble until all three ponies were dead with a dozen arrows sticking out of them. After that the fighting began to rapidly break down.

Fifteen minutes of brutal close quarters fighting all of the Stormwing Ground Guard were dead. A dozen Nor Menn warriors were on the ground dead or wounded, being tended to by the Avariel Healers. Now they had to move quickly before reinforcements came.

"Fealen post watches!" Ardon barked as he kicked open the door to what seemed to be the command center. "You see anything in the sky that isn't ours I want you to fill it with arrows!"

"Aye sir!" Fealen called back.

Ardon picked his way through the detritus inside until he found what he assumed was the commanders desk. He yanked open the drawers and began stuffing all of the papers into a sack he had brought with him. Two of his Wanderers had followed him in and were grabbing other papers, maps, and books from the shelves.

"Sir!" He heard Fealen call out.

With another curse he shoved one more folder into his sack before rushing back outside and looked up.
They were coming from the west, a great mass of wings easily more than two hundred fliers. He could see moonlight glint off their armor and the tips of their spears.

The true strength of Stormwing was coming fast.

MLP:ED

Something burned against her coat and she swore violently as she shot up, magic gathering about her horn. Hot wax from the candle bracket over her desk was dripping onto her fur. She shot a glance at the grandfather clock in the corner and saw that it was well passed midnight.

She scowled down at the text she had been pouring over before she had dozed off. Such a lapse in her attentiveness to her studies was shameful. The problem was the text she was pouring over wasn't exactly the most enthralling read. The Complete History of Prance was written with all the grace and attention to the rules grammar and punctuation of a drunken buffalo.

What little it could tell her of humans was mostly stories of the carnage and brutality they had unleashed. Half of it was gross exaggerations to make the pitiful forces of Prance look more noble and heroic in the face of countless brutal defeats.

She tried reading another page before frustrated she slammed it shut with her magic.

The trouble was that even in the great libraries of Canterlot there was very little information about Humans. To twilight's mind there were only two reasons why this could be. Either A somepony had destroyed all the texts about Humans, or B they had never existed to begin with. Neither sat well with Twilight.

She walked out of the library, heading down towards the lower recesses of the castle. These chambers were where some of the more secretive acts of the House were conducted, the interrogation and detainment of valuable prisoners for example or Twilight's own experiments . There was also a very special chamber down there to which she now was heading down towards.

The chamber was circular and dark. A single crystal dominated the chamber, a jagged gem stone that Rarity would have literally killed for. She wouldn't have understood its true value however, not the way Twilight did.

"Wake up old ghost," she commanded her horn glowing with magical power.

The crystal glowed in response to her command. A wizened and bearded Equine face appeared upon its brilliant surface. His face was fixed in a nearly perpetual frown which he always had when he saw her.

"What do you want young tyrant?" Starswirl the Bearded's ghost asked rather tersely.

"I have no time for your verbal barbs ghost," she replied. "I need information."

"When don't you need information from me?"

Twilight rolled her eyes in annoyance. Despite his brilliance Starswirl's flagrant disrespect for authority often grated upon her.

"I need to know about humans," she said. "You will tell me everything you know."

"Humans?" Starswirl asked raising an eyebrow. "Why? Are you planning on going beyond simply tearing Equestria apart in favor of global domination."

"A group of them have invaded Equestria," she replied. "I need to know..."

She stopped however as she saw the look of pure dread on the ghost's face.

"You idiot," he said his voice split between fear and anger. "Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"What are you talking about?" She demanded.

"You utter foal!" He shouted. "You've doomed the whole of ponykind!"

"What?!"

"When Equestria was founded my student Clover the Clever helped create the spell to keep the humans out of Equestria," he snapped. "No human could set foot in Equestria or else doom would fall upon all of humanity!"

"Well clearly his spell didn't work," Twilight said evenly trying to calm him down.

"Because you made the spell irrelevant!" Starswirl snapped.

"How?" Twilight demanded.

"Because Equestria does not exist anymore!" Starswirl snapped. "It doesn't matter if they are in the former territories of Equestria only that they are in the Nation of Equestria. That Nation ceased to exist when you and your friends tore this country apart!"

Twilight's mouth fell open but before she could speak Starswirl's face vanished from the face of the crystal. Furious she tried to calm him back but for the first time since she had meet the ghost he refused her summons. She was left alone in the chamber, with the knowledge that she may have doomed her entire race.

MLP:ED

Sweat ran down Ardon's face as he tossed another look up at the sky above what was left of his raiding party. He could see the enemy above circling high above them waiting for their most recent sortie group to rejoin the main body of the pursuit force.

The Nor Menn and their pony allies had done their best to defend the Stormwing fort but it soon became clear that Stormwing had carefully planned the construction of their base. It had been completely open to air attacks likely so that encase it fell as it had. House Stormwing could then quickly retake the fort with a quick attack.

Ardon had lost almost a third of his warriors before he had ordered them to abandon the fort and make for the Longships. All stealth was abandoned now with speed and the cover of trees sparse trees being the Nor Menn's best defense. Ardon didn't dare send his own fliers against Stormwing in what would be a futile attempt to by time.

Instead Ardon along with the remain archers and fliers had formed a hasty rearguard trying to keep Stormwing off their backs as best they could. But the Nor Menn discipline was beginning to break down, what discipline there was at least. Anyone who got to far ahead or drifted to far from the main group was quickly picked off by Stormwing forces. Ardon was struggling to keep his forces together.

Occasionally bolts of lightning would strike around them as the Stormwing Thunderers made use of their weapons. These only made the situation worse, some having thrown a side their weapons in terror, trying to run as fast as the could back to the safety of the Longships only to be picked off by swooping pegasi with spear and lance.

One such bolt hit a pegasus just in front of Ardon who fell to the ground with a cry. She struggled to push herself back up but her legs seemed to be refusing to function. Without a second thought Ardon yanked the wounded pony to her feet by mane and gave her a hard kick in the flank.

"Sunspark I forbid you to fecking die!" He roared in her ear half shoving her forward. "Now get moving!"

She gave a yelp of fright but kept moving forward.

"Here they come again!" Fealen cried out.

Ardon looked up again to see the Stormwing fliers lining up and swooping down towards the Nor Menn raiding band.

"Archers turn!" Ardon shouted!

The remaining Clan Hunters and Snow Striders came about as did the Valkyr Caladria.

"Archers knock!" He said said fixing an arrow of his own to the string of his longbow. "Draw!"

The bow strings were drawn back and turned up into the swooping mass of pegasi.

"Loose!" Ardon shouted firing is own arrow.

Nor Menn arrows and spears rattled against the heavily armored Stormwing fliers, few finding a mark upon the oncoming storm. Against such a charge the Nor Menn would stand no chance.

"Run!" Ardon shouted.

The retreat was rapidly turning into a full blow rout as the Stormwing Heavy Lancers and Hoplites hit the rear of Ardon's force cutting several warriors down. Wind Riders were amongst his fliers battling with the Valkyr, Fyrd Pegasi, and Avariel Healers. Many of them fell to the ground screaming, blood pouring from gashes made by razor sharp wing blades.

The Storming Fliers pulled back before the Nor Menn could regroup and were quickly circling just outside of bow shot once again. In the distance Ardon could hear the thunder of hooves and chariot wheels and knew that Stormwing's ground forces had joined the pursuit.

Then at last they saw the Longships and Lethrook's rearguard waiting for them. One of the Valkyr blew a horn blast to alert the rearguard of their return then blew a second horn blast. Two horn blasts was the standard call to indicate foes approaching. The rearguard blew one in reply acknowledging their approach and Ardon could see the warriors forming up into defensive formations.

Ardon had ordered Lethrook to take a much heavier force to form the rearguard. Lethrook's force comprised of thirty Huskrals, forty Raiders, forty Axe Throwers, fifteen Clan Hunters, and five Avariel Healers. The Huskrals were forming the front line of the defense with a heavy shield wall bristling with spears with Axe Throwers just behind them. Raiders had the flanks with Clan Hunters in the the rear. Most importantly however all of the Longboats were manned and their crews had readied weapons.

Each Longship had a pair of light bolt throwers similar to the larger ones the Nor Menn used for siege warfare. While they lacked the range and power of their larger cousins these small bolt throwers could still run a man through with a heavy bolt and were extremely accurate. The rest of the crew had grabbed bows or spears or axes or knives to defend the ships, which were their only way to escape.

Ardon urged his warriors on until the reached the shield wall which parted to allow the exhausted warrior passage. Once the last of his warriors was through Ardon collapsed to his knees, allowing his bow to fall to the grass gasping for breath.

"Boss," Lethrook said by way of greeting.

"Get the... wounded onto the ships," Ardon ordered panting heavily.

"We won't get far with those winged devils on our arses," Lethrook replied nodding to the Stormwing forces.

Ardon stood up and turned to see that the Stormwing fliers had come to a halt. Below them a large force of Earth Ponies and Unicorns was forming up for an attack. Ardon guess they had to be out numbered now almost two to one and most of his warriors were in no shape to fight.

But if they didn't fight they wouldn't get far before Stormwing's fliers would be on them again with lightning bolts.

"We'll have to make a stand," he agreed.

He took a deep breath to steady himself before he shouted, "anyone who can still fight form up!"

About half of his remaining warriors including several pegasi slowly moved to form up with the battle line. He grabbed a passing war priest by the shoulder.

"We're going to need the fury of the Gods to survive this," he said grimly.

The War priest nodded before rejoining his fellows.

Ardon took his place among the shield wall, his quiver of arrows completely empty. He took an offered wooden round shield and drew his bastard sword.

"Let 'em know who we are boys and girls!" Ardon called out.

The Nor Menn began to stamp their feet and bang their weapons against their shields. They shouted and cursed at the Stormwing warriors facing them across the field. Horns rang out as the War Priests began to chant a prayer to the Gods.

Then a large force of Stormwing warriors began to charge across the open flats between the two lines. Behind them the Chariots and the rest of the infantry began to advance while the fliers surged forwards. The Vanguard of the assault were a mass of earth pony warriors wearing next to no armor. They were covered in war paint and had heavy axes clutched in their teeth. Ardon recognized them instantly as Nhorse warriors, ponies who had copied and adapted Nor Menn styles to themselves with mixed success. Ardon allowed himself a savage grin. This would be a good fight.

As soon as the infantry came within range the Nor Menn archers opened up many having ignited their arrows. Burning contrails filled the sky as arrows whistled into the oncoming Stormwing infantry. Ardon saw several drop, but the rest pressed forwards.
The Chariots pulled away from the main body and moved towards the flanks hoping to smash through the Nor Menn flanks.

Above, the Stormwing fliers dove towards the Nor Menn lines heedless of the arrows and heavy bolts flying to meet them. Several of them dropped, an arrow having found an unarmored point or a bolt having skewered them but they quickly closed with the Nor Menn. The remaining Nor Menn fliers met the superior Stormwing fliers and sound the air was filled with war cries and screams with bodies of both ponies and humans falling from the skies.

On foot the the Nor Menn Axe Throwers opened the battle hurling their weapons at the Stormwng forces. Many ponies fell dead or wounded or simply stunned by the storm of axes. Then the Nhorse vanguard hit the Nor Menn line, many being cut down by the spears of the Huskrals. The few that managed the cut their way past the spears slammed into the shield wall hacking and bucking at the Huskral shields to little real effect. Then the main body of the Stormwing foot hit the Nor Menn line jabbing with spears or swinging flails.

On the flanks the Chariots slammed into the Raiders on the flanks. These chariots were each pulled by two armored earth ponies with a driver in the back jabbing away with a spear. Blades were fixed to the wheels adding to the carnage the machines unleashed. Ardon ordered the Wanderers how remained to back the Raiders up. So long as the chariots were moving they were pure death cutting warriors down without mercy but once they were unable to move the Nor Menn turned the tables without mercy.

Then the War priests gave a mighty roar and Ardon felt power surge through him. His mind was overwhelmed with rage and the desire for slaughter, his vision going red bringing the dark battle field into sharp relief. With a roar of his own he surged forwards as did the rest of his warriors pushing back against the Stormwing infantry even as the fliers penetrated the defense of the Nor Menn fliers to engage the warriors on the ground.

Ardon had difficulty processing everything that was happening during the War Fury. It was mostly indistinct flashes of images as his body reverted to pure killing instinct. One minute he was hacking at a Pegasus wearing heavy armor and carrying a heavy lance. The next moment he was throttling a unicorn with his bare hands, watching it flail its legs in the air trying fruitlessly to beat him off. Then he had his sword again clambering onto a chariot to shove the blade right through the throat of the driver.

Then the power faded away and he found himself on his knees panting heavily. He could feel hot blood on his face that he knew was not his own. He looked up to see that the Stormwing forces had pulled back across the field out of bow shot. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to see the carnage behind him.

Dozens if not hundreds of bodies lay across the feild all of the way to Longboats all five of which were still intact. Of Ardon's warriors only about half were on their feet still, coming down off the combat high of the War Fury. The Raiders had taken heavy loses against the chariots while the Huskrals had held up fairly well. The fliers and archers however were in a poor state.

Only four of the Avariel Healers were left doing their best to tend to the wounded. Six Valkyr Caladria remained one having to be carried by one of her battle sisters. Of the Fyrd Pegasi only eight of Ardon's original thirty remained alive most now on the ground stumbling about the battlefield aimlessly, one vomited up his dinner and collapsed on the ground coughing in the blood until some pulled him back up into a sitting position. The Axe Throwers done the best they could against the Stormwing fliers but throwing axes were of little use against enemies who could fly only twelve of them remained. The Clan Hunters had been decimated down to about twenty five warriors, only eight of the Snow Striders remained.

"Boss," Lethrook said stumbling over to him, his left arm hanging at an odd angle, a spear having punched through his round shield and now partly stuck in his bicep. "We can't take another assault like that."

Ardon nodded, wiping the blood from his face noticing that his hand was shaking slightly.

"Pile the dead and burn them," he ordered. "They can cover our withdraw."

Lethrook grimaced but nodded.

Ardon threw a look over at the Stormwing forces squinting through the darkness try to gauge their strength. He guessed maybe half of their infantry remained along with maybe a third of the chariots. The pegasi forces however appeared to still be in good strength. He hoped the lack of sufficient ground forces however would keep their enemy at bay at least until they were reinforced. Hopefully by that time the Nor Menn would be miles away.

Then suddenly he heard the rush of wings and the soft clop of hooves against the hard pack dirt. He whirled about bringing his sword up to defend himself.

The Stormwing pegasus however he now faced bore no weapon but a white flag. Ardon knew that plain white flags were the standard pony call for diplomacy. The mare stared at him with hard eyes, any surprise at fighting humans appeared to be lost on her.

"Are you the commander of this rabble?" She asked.

"Aye," Ardon replied in Equestrian.

"We wish to call for a ceasefire until sun rise to collect our dead and tend to them as honor demands," she said.

Ardon felt a wave of relief wash over his tired muscles.

"No weapons," he said. "We'll leave yours alone if you leave ours be."

"For now," she replied before turning about and rising back into the air with a few beats of her wings.

Ardon slowly walked back to the Nor Menn line a spread the order to leave the Stormwing corpses be and of the temporary ceasefire. By Sun rise the Nor Menn would be long gone. Then he set about helping to collect the dead and pile them together.
As he turned over another corpse he swore. Fealen's blank face stared up at him, the broken lance sticking out of his side having gone straight to his heart. With reverence Ardon closed the Sindarla's eyes and carried over to the pile and laid him down gently on the kindling which was a mix of broken shields and spears piled together with what fire wood they had.

The Stormwing warriors arrived a minute or two later, unarmed as requested. Aside from the nasty looks both sides threw each others way they did not interact at all. Both sides worked in silence save for the moans of the wounded and the dying. To Ardon's surprise several Stormwing Nhorse warriors arrived dragging the Nor Menn dead from the fort and the retreat on a chariot. They said nothing to anyone as they allowed the Nor Menn to unload their dead from the Chariots. For the briefest moment they were united in the macabre task of tending to the fallen.

After a half hour the Nor Menn completed their grizzly task. A great mound of bodies and kindling gathered before them. They were arrayed as best the Nor Menn could for the funeral with the blood washed from their faces, their hands resting upon their chests, heads resting upon shields to look as though they were merely sleeping. Their weapons were at their sides. Those whose weapons could not be found had been given daggers, spare axes and spears so they would not be dishonored.

The War Priests and Valkyr Caladria began to chant prayers for the dead, calling upon the gods to accept them into their halls with all the honor befitting warriors. Oil was poured on the dead by the Valkyr before the War Priest ignited torches and reverently set them to the kindling. The great pyre was soon a mass of flames burning brightly, lighting the night with a red blaze.

The Nor Menn stayed for a moment heads bowed reverentially in silence.

Then Ardon began their final task for the dead.

"Blood and fire, sweat and steel," he sang his voice slightly raspy from the dry air of the heat of the flames. "Proud you stood, noble you lie."

"On to Odin's halls you go," his warriors sang out joining him in the lament.

"Axe and sword, spear and bow," he continued. "In bright mail, in hard leather."

"On to Odin's halls you go."

"On to the halls of song and feast. Sit now in glory, to your honor we shall drink."

"On to Odin's halls you go."

"Rest now in the eternal glory of death," he said lifting up his head to stare into the flames. "Pity us for being left to contend with the fleeting glory of life. You will not be forgotten."

They remained there standing about the pyre as the flames rose hire and hire obscuring the faces and bodies of the dead. Then in silence they returned the longships and set off back the way they had come, the funeral pyre lighting the horizon until its light was at last out of sight well over an hour later.

Ardon turned to remains of his scout force and could not help but feel the shame of defeat. Though they had achieved their objective the price had been far to high. He walked the deck looking into one tired face after another until he came upon one he had not expected.

Sunspark was sitting there shivering. Ardon sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You did well," he said.

She did not reply or even look at him. She simply stared at the deck. Ardon did not press her, he knew how she felt every warrior did.

Death was a constant companion of warriors, a pitiless and cruel follower. How one dealt with facing death defined them as a person. Or a pony in this case.

Author's Note

Man its been a while since I posted.

So if you haven't realized it yet the Nor Menn kind of suck at anti air. So an army that is more than half flying units like Stormwing kicks their asses and kicks them hard.