Fallout Equestria: The Long Winter

This is a tale of life, love, morality, and friendship.

Come little Children....

A tale of fascism, racism, communism, and betrayal.

I’ll take thee away

A tale of survival and Rebellion.

Into a Land of Enchantment...

And most important of all, a tale of family.

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Long, long ago, in the magical land of Equestria, Princess Celestia created the ponies, who lived in her sunlight, and slept under the light of Luna`s moon. At first, the earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns had no defense from the creatures of the night, and many were lost in the dark forests. But after one fateful night, the vanishings and attacks from the monsters ceased. Very few ponies knew what happened that night, and what stopped the monsters from simply gobbling up every pony in sight.

On that fateful night, Luna created a race of wolves.

Luna happened to be feeling very lonely that night, feeling jealous that the ponies rejoiced and celebrated her sister and the sunlight, but seemed to give no praise to Luna, or the moonlight she cast, lighting up the night. So, in secret she created the wolves using the power of the stars themselves, along with a lock of her own mane. Modeling them after the timber wolves, she spent half of that night creating them, making sure they could be told apart. At first it was fur color, ranging from a dark brown, to a raven- themed black, to stark white. All with sharp teeth and claws, four powerful legs, and other traits of a dog. As instructed by Luna herself, the quickly became the guardians of the night, guiding ponies back to their homes, instructing them through the shadows, silently and viscously taking on any monster that dared attack.  Despite the wolves living in peace with the ponies, Celestia still scolded her sister, and warned her ponies to be wary of the wolves, and to try and stay away from them.

And that was the status quo, so to say. The ponies had their society and traditions, and the wolves had their own. Instead of cutie marks, at a certain age, young wolves are tested to become one of four key roles of the wolf society. The pups would become warriors, those who protected the ponies and fought the monsters of the night, Gatherers, tasked with hunting down food or game and bring it back to their villages deep in the forests, and finally the healers and shamans, mostly taken by the wolves that showed magical ability. There were either trained to heal the wounds, or use the herbs to try to tell the future, and tell where the animals would be moving to each season. And so life went on for the wolves, sticking to the shadows, hunting and gathering, and generally enjoying life and worshipping Luna.

But then Nightmare Moon rose.

And the Wolven Rebellion Rose with Her

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My life, as of late, has been very, very weird. At the moment, I’m sitting on the bottom of a freezing cold river, sharing a cigar with a Pyro-manic ghoul pony. And that Ghoul pony’s flamethrower is the only thing keeping us alive right now. The rest of my team is probably standing on the shore, wondering what to do.  And I’m fairly sure I feel the vibrations of a rather large ship coming up the river.

But for anypony to really understand why I’m here, and how all of this happened, we’ll need to back a bit….say, a month? Back to when I was a simple (albeit mistreated) wolf, living in Stable 200, taught to fear the outside world. A wolf that tended to get in fights, for roughly five reasons

1.) The other pony hit me first.

2.) I was called a derogatory term (such as bitch, Luna lover, or Neanderthal)

3.) They other pony made fun of my little sister.

4.) I hit the other pony.

Note that I put pony each time up there, because in the whole blasted story, which is going to be a pain in the rear end to tell, I am oppressed by unicorns. Mostly due to the fact that I’m a wolf. Created by Luna, and raised to worship that stars…if I was raised using the Old Ways that is. Like I said, I was raised in a stable, and I got to learn some things my grandparents still don’t understand. Like Pipbucks, slightly modified for a much leaner forepaws of wolves, and guns. I have to stop and grip it with both paws, but I can still use one of my three digits to squeeze the trigger. In turn, my grandfather insisted I be trained in sword combat. Not as exciting as firing a bullet, as I have to hold my blade in my mouth to use it properly.

But I’m getting off track here.

Let’s go back to the beginning.

It was late when I heard the knock on my door. Far later than anything I would normally be woken up for such as a security shift, or some sort of emergency. The knock was different as well. Three sharp raps on the door, followed by a voice with an accent I didn’t recognize.

“Out! Now! Ze General commands it!” The voice was high pitched, and I’m fairly sure it was from Germaney. I was on my feet by this point, grabbing the thin, long blade that was my sword, putting it in a sheath mounted on my back. It did tend to crush the black fur that I had on my back (and all over me, save for my white underside) but I never minded. It fit comfortably between the join where my legs met the rest of my body. I was jarred out of my thoughts as I felt a wet nose nuzzle my side.

“Brother? What’s going on?” My little sister, Ursa (Yes, like the bear, shut up) whispered to me, her diluted eyes looking toward the door. Did I mention that my sister was blind? And she had white fur, which she inherited from my late mother. All in all, she stuck out against the mostly black or dark brown fur that the wolf population of my stable had.

“Not sure. Stay close to me.” I whispered back to her as I approached the door, using my right forepaw to open it. The pony on the other side was dressed in what seemed to be a black military uniform of some kind, and had a red hoofband emblazoned with a white circle, a unicorn horn set in the middle of said circle. A military hat sat on his head, the brim modified for his horn, also black, a small, possibly metal eagle was sitting the brim, holding the same logo as the hoofband.

“Ah. Zere you are. Come along. You vill be brought to the main hall, numbered, and branded. Ve are going to clean up this place.” The stallion’s horn the glowed a dark purple, and Ursa and I were lifted off the ground, our mouths somehow clamped shut by the spell. All I could do was focus one of my hazel orbs on my sister as we were carried into the main hall where all (roughly) eighty wolves were gathered, unicorns keeping them quiet and off the ground. Then, sitting before a pedestal that was set up in the middle of the room, was the rest of stable 200, all unicorns, all bowing to a middle-aged Unicorn standing on the pedestal, yammering away.

“Now zat ve have come to this stable, we vill cleanse the impure wolves, leaving your population pure. After zat, ve vill give you choice. Join our ranks, or die like wolven dogs.” He then gestured to the carcass of a wolf that was lying on the floor, bullet wounds clearly visible, even from my distance. But that didn’t faze me.

That part that made me notice was that the dead wolf was my grandfather.

Now I’m not one to cry, but I will admit my vision did up a bit there. My grandfather may have been hard on me, insistent to teach me and my sister the old ways of doing things, and yes, we may have butted heads on more than one occasion. But he was still family, and I did love him deep down. Then my eyes were distracted by a sight that I still remember. An olive green unicorn, one dressed in a uniform that matched the rest of this “army”, though it seemed he was higher up in the ranks, approached my sister, his horn glowing a gentle blue as he activated his own levitation spell. As he took my sister away from me, I tried my best to growl, snarl, and bite at him. (For the record, I ended up sounding like a really cranky pup) The black-maned stallion simply gave me a warm smile and spoke.

“Tut Tut. Do not vorry my sharp-toothed friend. My name is Shadow Strike von Blitzkrieg, Lieutenant in the Unicorn Supremacist Army of the Black Sun. You may call me Blitz. I promise you….vat is your name?” He paused to point at the unicorn that was holding me up, and the unicorn partially released the spell, freeing my vocal chords and head. I could have sworn, roared and bitten. But for the sake of Ursa’s life and mine, I chose to be civil.

“Ahiga Silverback. Though I do prefer Southpaw.” At this point I was able to hear gunshots, my eyes darting around to see some of the other wolves of my stable being “cleansed”. Turned out cleansing actually meant extermination, as they were getting shot point black. It didn't matter how young or old they were, or what gender. each and every wolf was getting killed.

“Vell Southpaw, I promise you, your sister vill be in good hands. I vill personally vatch over her. You haff my vord.” I really didn’t want to trust this Unicorn, and I REALLY wanted for him to bring Ursa back. But all I could do was nod and looking down sadly, closing my eyes. I didn’t want to imagine what they were going to do her.

That was about the point where shit hit the fan. Literally.

Don’t ask me how a piece of poop went flying across the room to nail “Ze General” in the face, but it did. That was about the point where all hell broke loose. Gunshots were fired, poop was thrown, and it descended into a riot very quickly. The unicorn holding me up was so startled by the uproar that happened that he actually dropped me onto the cool metal floor. So, instead of doing a cliché hero thing and running away, I choose a slight alternative. I bit the pony that was holding me up a minute ago in the ass, using my teeth to leave a mark. While he was recovering from THAT pain in the flank, I grabbed the pistol strapped to his side, holding it in my mouth….then I ran away.

For the first time in my life, I had run away from something. Some of you may ask why I didn’t take the sword off my back, and start hacking and slashing until I got Ursa back. Well, to answer that, I’ll just say this. There was a small army in that room, and every unicorn had guns. Combine that with any deadly spell they might know, even the strongest pony would turn tail and run. So that’s what I did. Ran until I reached the stairwell, slamming the door behind me. I just sat there for a minute, my stomach churning from the sight of the dead, my body threatening to puke. It was at this point that I heard the most comforting voice that I could want. The voice of my grandmother.

“Ahiga, could you be a dear up the kitchens?”

Ah, my grandmother. Even in the face of extermination and death, she will still try and comfort me. She kind of filled the “mother” role that I lost when Ursa was born, and she supported me in whatever I wanted to try. And she was a master chef, pretty much the Alpha Female of the Kitchens. She ran a tight and clean ship in the kitchens, and not even the Overmare would question her choice in food. So, I did as she asked, walking up three floors, past the orchard and wheat farm levels, to the kitchen level, nearest to surface…or at least, I think it is. I poked my head into dimly lit room, the white patch of fur that looked like a diamond (placed on my head) reflecting some of the light. I moved slowly with the pistol in one paw until I saw the familiar silver coat of my grandmother. And I couldn’t help but give her a hug….and sniffle a little bit.

“I know Ahiga; once again, our kind is hated simply for existing. Dry your tears young one, it is time.”

“Time for what?” I asked, tilting my head to one side. Where else could I go? I knew every inch of the stable.

“Time for you to leave. It is no doubt that these Unicorn Supremacists will exit this stable without much resistance. They teleported themselves right into the main hall, so I assume they will do the same. They will take those meant to be Shamans, your sister included, back to their base. Where that is, I do not know. But I do know this. You will leave this stable, properly arm yourself, find you sister and BRING. HER. BACK.” By the time she finished speaking the hug had stopped, and she had given me a holster for the pistol (most likely from the armory considering the Stable-Tec logo), which I strapped to the thigh of my left foreleg, and my grandmother pushed an oven aside, revealing a large and gear shaped door. She hit three buttons, and with a groan and a gust of compressed air, the door rolled aside, pretty much crushing the oven that had once hidden it. My grandmother hugged me again and patted my head a couple times before shoving me towards the tunnel that led outside.

“Now go. The General and his men will be here soon. I will teach them to track into MY kitchen!” Once I was safely in the tunnel, the door began to close once again, and the last thing I saw of my old life was my grandmother walking toward the door, as preparing to lecture the unicorns who would make a mess of her kitchen. The tunnel to the outside world wasn’t very long, a simple downward slope that lead to a rickety wooden door which I pushed aside. Those first steps I made into the world made me realize some things.

One, I was on the side of the mountain.

Two, there was white stuff all over the ground…I think it’s is called snow

Three, I was Cold.

Four, for the first time in my life, I was alone.