The night was in full; the distant moon was high in its placement – its gibbous form reflecting a dull grey radiance that struck through the tinctured gothic windows of the palace. Had there been any royal guards present at a certain narrow hall tucked quietly away in the eastern wing of the great palace, they might have very well seen the sallow gleaming pair of eyes that seemed to float across the darkness. The phantom form of Claws Von Schlauhirn materialized under the pale moon’s light as he passed beneath a window; his body tense and sleek, his ears twitching to and fro, glowing eyes shifting in constant surveillance.

As a cat, he felt within his element – the shadowed halls he’d trekked to get here were a comfort, for they provided a modicum of cover that only accentuated his kind’s natural stealth. As for why he was even here, so far from the chambers afforded him by Equestria’s sovereign, he once more reminded himself of the message he’d been so surreptitiously handed by a cat he’d never seen before, informing him that Felix Von Verminstrauser had urgent news to pass on to him.

A subtle breath from the inky darkness drew every iota of his focus as he tentatively whispered, “Felix, ist das du?” For a few seconds, there was nothing. But then, in a gentle murmur a voice answered back, “Ja, ist mir.” Releasing a breath that he’d unconsciously been holding, Claws instructed the younger cat, saying, “Step into the light.” Slowly, almost hesitantly, the svelte and lanky form of Felix Von Verminstrauser all but leaked forth from the dark. As he stood before the Minister of the Interior, it took all of Felix’s strength to look his superior in the eye.

He was well aware of the trouble he’d caused Claws, and, upon realizing what he’d done, the young ambassador had worked frantically, day and night, for the past month trying to find a way to redeem himself before the Interior Minister. His reflections were halted, however, when Claws (who despite knowing that the two of them were alone, could not help but look over his shoulder in paranoia) softly exclaimed, “You had best have a very good reason for luring me here, Felix; you’ve caused me enough trouble as it were.”

“I understand,” began Verminstrauser, “that you’re upset with me, believe me – I do; but we can wait for another time to discuss that.” As he spoke, the ambassador quickly and quietly withdrew a bundle of papers from his dress-coat, handing them over to Claws. With an apprehensive glance at the proffered papers, Minister Von Schlauhirn gently took them up before asking, “What is this all about, Verminstrauser?” Half consciously sifting through the various pages, he noticed that there were only a few letters that he could actually decipher – the rest were written in the sprawling script used by the Ponies.

Leaning closer towards the Minister of the Interior, Felix conspiratorially whispered, “I’ve been watching, Herr Schlauhirn; watching and listening.” Raising an eyebrow, Claws had no idea where this conversation might lead. As if sensing his superior’s bemusement, Verminstrauser quickly began to elaborate as he asked, “How familiar are you with the Chameleonic Islands?” This only garnered a further look of bewilderment from Claws, who whispered, “We have an outpost on one of the islands, but other than that, I don’t know much else.”

Pausing only long enough to glance over his shoulder, Felix spoke once more, saying, “I’ll admit that my knowledge was even more lacking than yours – but, I began looking into it upon noticing that there are a pair of Chameleons currently taking up residence within this very castle.” Now this was new information for Claws, who was instantly intrigued – Chameleons weren’t any fonder of the Pferdlanders than his own people were, and they were even less inclined to approach outsiders. That two of them were now in the heart of the Pferdsreich was strange indeed.

Seeing that this information had caught Von Schlauhirn’s attention, Felix continued – “Using a contact of mine in KaN[1], I’ve done a little digging, and what I’ve learned has been… most enlightening.” He had purposefully avoided the look of absolute scandal on Claws Von Schlauhirn’s face as he pressed on, “As it turns out, prior to the destruction of Promised Point, the Pferdlanders had been conducting a series of tests in the fields of energy development.” Claws had been aware of this; it was no secret that the facilities at Promised Point were some of the most advanced of their sort in the world.

Leaning towards his superior, Felix’s voice was little more than a phantom whisper as he divulged his discoveries, pointing to various pages as he went along, “On September 16th, a letter of correspondence was sent from one Dr. Lathe, chairman over the Science and Technology division of Promised Point’s Observatorium, to her highness Princess Celestia – wherein is made mention of a ‘Project Æther’ coming into its final stage.” Pointing to another, smaller paper, Verminstrauser animatedly continued – “October 12th; KaN agents working in Promised Point report that some sixty kilograms of transuranic metals – most probably element 94 – had passed through customs before they lost track of it.”

Already, Claws Von Schlauhirn was beginning to grow uneasy; what he was hearing sounded eerily similar to a project being undertaken by the EWE[2]. His suspicions were only strengthened as Felix went on, saying, “This one, October 29th; a letter of correspondence between the aforementioned Dr. Lathe and a professor of magical engineering going by the name of Quantum Waveform, in which the Doctor confirms that the fabrication of Professor Waveform’s containment device was complete and that testing would begin shortly.”

Finally pointing to a collection of handwritten documents (what constituted the majority of the material he’d given the Minister of the Interior), Felix’s next words would send the hair of Claw’s tail on end as he said, “These are eyewitness testimonies, taken in the first week of November; they all report the same story: that on the Third of November, at approximately zero-five-thirty hours, an explosion accompanied by a blinding flash akin to a second sun was observed on an island located in the southern reaches of the archipelago… KaN’s investigations into the matter have turned up similar findings.”

Claws was speechless – physically staggered! As he slowly placed a hand out to grip hold of Felix’s shoulder to steady himself, he could only stare off into the distance as he came to grips with Verminstrauser’s revelation. The Pferdlanders had split an atom. The Reich had been working towards the same goal for sixteen years and yet the Ponies came up and accomplished it first (and with magic of all things); this changed things.

In a voice far too shaken for his own liking, Claws Von Schlauhirn asked the most pertinent question of all – “Have they gone into production?” Looking the Minister of the Interior straight in the eye, Felix Von Verminstrauser flatly responded, “No.” ‘Oh, thank God.’ Claws thought; had it been any other race, he would have been skeptical of Felix’s answer, but these were Ponies – it didn’t surprise him too terribly much that they would disregard the weaponry applications of what they’d just unlocked.

But his momentary relief was broken by the young ambassador’s next words, when he said, “However, I do not think it is from a lack of interest; before the destruction of Promised Point, there was already a move underway to recreate the experiment.” Taking another piece of parchment from his jacket, Felix went on to explain, saying “This was intercepted by our Agent in Promised Point before it could make it to its final destination; it was marked as being written on November 4th by the Princess Celestia.”

Taking the note as it was offered to him, Claws could only recognize a few words that he’d picked up over time, and so was fully incapable of actually reading it. This didn’t stop him from perusing it over as Felix continued to explain, “In it, she expressed a profound interest it what they’d uncovered; she was wholly prepared and eager to fully fund any further research and development…”

Von Schlauhirn felt physically ill all of a sudden. He needed to relay this information at once and find out what Purlin[3] wanted done about it. Looking Verminstrauser in the eye, Claws hissed, “This discussion remains between us, do you understand?” With a nod of acquiescence, Felix gave his goodbyes before departing back into the shadows. Claws was just as quick to leave – it took him less than five minutes to sneak his way out of the Castle. Within thirty minutes he’d made his way into the radio Pullman. He would spend the next several hours hunched over a telegraph, frantically relaying his findings…

The skies above the Everfree were pitch black – a roiling shawl of swirling dark clouds had descended across the heavenly expanse, casting a great shadow over the night and concealing within its embrace the great and terrible entity that trudged ever onward through the abyssal expanse of trees. The darkness posed no difficulties for the behemoth; its crimson gaze cut through the sweltering blackness with little effort.

The first peal of thunder was little more than a distant, rumbling din upon the air – so faint as to be discredited. A blindingly blue flash of lightning soon followed, turning the skies into a sea of Cherenkov light that highlighted the contoured shadows of the forested expanse and showcased the looming mountainside that grew closer with every step that the beast took. In that brief second of luminosity, it could clearly make out the great stone edifice of the city walls.

Then the rain began to fall. It was subtle at first – a pronounced drop here and there, hardly worth noticing. But those drops quickly transmogrified into a cacophonous din of torrential might the likes of which the great leviathan had never before witnessed in its lifetime. The next drumming call of thunder would not be ignored as easily – it tore the sky asunder shaking both branch and bow, such was its ferocity!

The potent scent of heavy rain and ionized air was rife; crackling arcs of lightning electrified the atmosphere and permeated the horizon with phantom flashes of light and sound. And it was amidst this maelstrom of vertigo-inducing stimuli that for the briefest moment, something struck forth from the western edge of the forest. Immediately the lumbering giant ceased all motion – the pounding rain and vociferous winds were all but ignored as the beast peered into the darkness and waited.

It would not wait long as the static white discharge of radiant light that broke forth from the clouds instantly betrayed the outline of a tiny little village that would have gone entirely unnoticed by the great avatar of vengeance. With narrowed eyes it observed the unassuming hamlet – it would take so little effort to destroy it; to destroy the hopes and dreams and lives of the insignificant insects that had made it their home. With a flash the fires of anger had returned, swallowing up the vacuum of apathy that had been slowly smothering it. With a growl that was masked by the booming thunder and howling wind, Gho’Zra started once more to stride forth against the beating rain – a new destination in mind…

Hermann hated the rain. This was something that most cats held in common, but for him it ran deeper than some instinctual urge to remain dry. With the rain there always came memories – memories that were best left forgotten, never to be experienced again. Just the smell of it evoked thoughts and feelings; memories of the God-forsaken highlands of the great south, of the mud filled trenches that stank of filth and decay, of the sightless eyes of a dozen corpses that stared at him accusingly for having led them to their untimely deaths.

Absentmindedly, the towering Maine Coon traced a hand down the terrible scar that marred his face. He’d gotten that amidst the rain as well. He still had nightmares of it, even after so many long years; the wild rage in the eyes of that Boar as it bared down upon him with nothing but its own teeth and hooves. The pure savagery of it all still sent a shiver down his spine. A splintering crack of thunder only sought to remind him of the deafening boom of mortar fire and of the trees that would shatter into a million tiny shards of death when the airbursts fell.

Noticing the Oberstabsfeldwebel’s vacant stare, one of the men (a toad with bright orange eyes and brilliant red skin) softly touched Hermann’s shoulder as he asked, “Sir, are you alright?” Snapping out of his daze, Hermann Kuhn gave an affable smile and responded, “Ja, I’m fine, Theodore – just thinking is all.” While not convinced, the toad known as Theodore decided to let the issue go as he went back to stirring the pot of stew he’d been whipping up for the group.

They’d been stationed here some five hours ago to act as gate watchers of the town of Ponyville. While it was not the glorious position they’d hoped to have received, the First Grenadiers had decided to make the most of it. Already there were a string of trenches and mobile bunkers that lined the southern and western edges of the tiny village; a group of four Sturmwagens were also on hand.

While not enough to be much more than a distraction should the worst occur, the few hundred soldiers stationed here were well aware of the importance of the town’s position. They would defend Ponyville should the need arise, but they held no hopes of actually doing much more than trying to slow the beast down in the event that it did attack.

The muddy sloshing of hooves approaching the trench was met with raised rifles as one of the men (a black and grey striped Siamese) exclaimed, “Give a password or I shoot.” Ironically, had the intruder not been able to understand a word of Voroshian, they’d have been shot regardless. Fortunately, the exasperated response of “Feurvogel” came from none other than Hauptmann Spitzer, who slogged his way past the guard and into the trench.

Seeing his equine friend’s rather irritated expression, Hermann nonchalantly asked, “See anything interesting?” When all that Spitzer managed to muster was a mere grunt, Kühn was instantly concerned. “What’s with you?” he asked the disgruntled Destrier, “You run into an old girlfriend or something?” While it was meant as a joke to hopefully lighten the pony’s spirit, it seemed to only further irritate the Hauptmann. But before the giant feline could inquire further, Spitzer finally spoke, saying, “I just met with my father a few hours ago.”

Hermann was suddenly all ears as he leaned towards his friend to better listen. In all the years that they’d known each other, Spitzer had never openly talked about his family or the life he’d left behind, and judging from what little he’d ever said in passing, he seemed content to let it remain as such. In an attempt to move the conversation forward, Hermann put out feelers by inquiring, “I take it that things didn’t go well?”

With a cold casualness, the Hauptmann replied, “Senility has stricken him in his waning years – he couldn’t even remember who he was half the time, much less recognize me after thirty years.” As if treading on eggshells, Hermann more asked than replied, “I’m… sorry to hear that.” With an amused snort, Spitzer exclaimed, “Don’t be.” Raising a tentative brow, the Maine Coon could only ask, “I take it that the two of you never got along?”

Again with a flippancy that seemed almost cruel, Spitzer remarked, “Far from it, actually – I loved him well enough, and he was nothing if not caring and supportive… but my father was a spineless, unambitious man who let others walk all over him, and I never held any respect for him.” Perhaps out of morbid curiosity, Hermann then pressed, asking, “And your mother?” Looking as if he’d just tasted something particularly foul, Spitzer muttered, “That hectoring shrew died in her sleep eight years ago.”

And that was that; Hermann could tell that to ask further questions would be pointless. And it was just as well, for in that moment, the rain seemed to let up just enough for the two of them to see the shadowed outlines of the nearby tanks. They could also see that from atop the cupola of all four Stürmwagens were the animated forms of their commanders. Apparently they were in quite a discussion, as the indecipherable sound of them yelling to one another could be heard over the torrential downpour.

All at once, one of the figures hopped from his tank and landed with a start on the wet muddy ground. And as the figure made a bee-line straight for his trench, Oberstabsfeldwebel Hermann Kuhn couldn’t help the uneasy feeling he was getting. When the Panzerkommandant finally made it into the light of the trench, Hermann vaguely recognized him as the commander of Unit Seven – the svelte looking German Rex seemed unconcerned with his drenched clothing as he stood before them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kommandant Stoßauge began with his customary smile, “But the radios have started picking up some rather unusual signals coming out of the south – a lot of short wave encrypted traffic that shouldn’t be there.” When no one responded to this news, the Kommandant nervously scratched the back of his head before adding, “I didn’t think it was that important either, but one of our Funker boys said that it wasn’t one of our signals, and so we thought it might be worth passing along.”

With a sigh, Hermann Kuhn finally replied, saying, “Thank you, Herr Kommandant – I’ll be sure to send that message along as quickly as possible.” With a grinning nod, the Rex cat ran once more into the pouring rain, presumably to return to his tank. Turning towards their own radio operator, Hermann drolly ordered, “Stenzt, send a wire to command – let them know that we’re getting some foreign signal interference.”

As the radioman began hammering out the message over the telegraph wire, the Oberstabsfeldwebel turned once again to Spitzer, who was giving him a bemused stare. In defense, the great cat explained, “It’s probably nothing, but I’m better off reporting it anyways; it’s not as if there’s anything else to do at the moment.” As if to disparage his remark, the skies chose that time to unleash a blinding flash of plasmatic light that lit up the entire horizon, revealing the horrifying sight of a hundred meter mountain of flesh and bone slowly lumbering through the forest and towards them…

… With a start, Rainbow Dash awoke – her entire body was aflame with a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to permeate her entire existence. With deep, gasping breathes of air she tried to recollect who she was, where she was, and why she was there. She was momentarily surprised when her vision went dark beneath an all-encompassing mat of crimson fur. Like a calming river torrent, a soothing low voice traveled across her entire body as it exclaimed, “Rainbow, thank Jesus, you’re awake!”

A flash of sights and sounds instantly rolled through her mind; a city of clouds cast in a crimson cascade of flames, a swirling maelstrom of cutting wind and pelting rain; a loss of control – the crash! That’s right; she’d fallen from the sky – the storm she’d flown into on her way towards Ponyville had been like nothing she’d ever witnessed before. She soon recognized who it was that was clinging to her in earnest – the presence of Big Macintosh was like a balm to her soul as she desperately clung to the stallion’s warm embrace.

The calm was ruptured by the phantom ghost of a primordial god of rage and fire – the massive form of Gho’Zrah as it thundered to the north! Forcing Macintosh’s arms open, Rainbow Dash suppressed a twinge of pain as she looked the farmer in the eye and exclaimed, “Mac, we need to leave, now.” The look of confusion on his face was enough to tease an enquiry from her as she asked, “Where are we?” Placing a hoof against her cheek, Big Macintosh answered, “You’re in the hospital, Rainbow… you were in an accident, remember?”

Well, that at least explained the catheter and the intravenous lines sprouting from her limbs. She knew the crash had been bad, but she had to ask, “Mac, how long have I been here?” Again he was quick to answer, saying, “It’s been over two days, now.” It took all of her will not to openly swear in front of him, but there was little she could do to mask the agitated look of panic that washed over her face. Picking up on the fact that something was bothering her, Macintosh was compelled to ask, “Why, what’s wrong?”

With an urgency that left the farmer unsettled, the prismatic Pegasus began physically removing the various tubes and needles from her body as she exclaimed, “There isn’t much time left, Mac – we need to get to the farm, gather everything up, and get the hell out of Ponyville as quickly as possible!” When Big Macintosh made no move to do as she said, she nearly screamed in hysteria, “Mac, please, we need to get out of here!”

With a dry voice that seemed much too small to have come from him, the large stallion tentatively spoke, saying, “Rainbow… you’re wings – the doctors, they had to…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. As if suddenly realizing it for the first time, the mare quickly looked back over her shoulder and was rather surprised to find that her wings were, for all intents and purposes, gone. But strangely enough, rather than the panic she expected to feel welling up from within her, she instead felt a sense of relief at the fact that it was only her wings and not her life.

When she openly said as much, Macintosh was left flabbergasted. But before he could respond with any sense of coherency, Rainbow Dash interrupted by saying, “I’ll have time to come to terms with it later, Mac, but right now we need to get your family and get out of town – everyone is in da--” Her words were cut short beneath a bursting cacophony of ordinance that drowned out even the thundering skies! The ground shook and the lights of the hospital flickered as a melody of pops and crackles joined in the noisome display!

Cursing under her breath, the Pegasus quickly rolled off of the bed and, upon steadying herself, began pushing Macintosh towards the doorway. “C’mon, Mac,” she exclaimed, “we have to get out of here before it’s too late!” Deciding that he was better off listening to the mare, the crimson stallion fell in line with her as the two of them made their way towards the exit of the building. All around them there was panic and pandemonium; such was the extent of the commotion outside that no one even attempted to stop them as they stepped out into the rainy darkness…

… “—repeat, adjust fire to grid 206 552, fire all batteries!” Even under such a calamitous shroud of noise, the Funker operator’s voice still somehow managed to carry over. The first salvo had been quite a nasty shock to all parties involved – especially when considering that many of the rounds strayed far too close to the front lines for anyone’s comfort. Corrections had been made, but the results were less than pleasing. If nothing else, when a shell did manage to land its mark, it didn’t even seem to bother the beast!

All along the perimeter of Ponyville, the flash of small arms fire lit up from both the trenches and from the various watchtowers and firing posts that had been cobbled together over the past few days. It was readily apparent that such small caliber weaponry did little if anything to their target. Had it not been for the valiant maneuvering of the Sturmwagens, the hulking monstrosity would have already been upon them…

From inside his cupola Panzerkommandant Siegfried Stoßauge barked out, “Right, thirty-six degrees at five hundred meters – maintain speed!” From the driving berth Schmullie adjusted accordingly, his mind all but detached from the reality of the danger they were putting themselves in as he focused solely upon steering the great metal beast they currently occupied. Behind him stood Toni, covered in soot and shoveling yet another load of coal into the fiery maw of the engine’s boilers.

The muffled barking of an auto-cannon gave testament to the concerted efforts of the Kügelbach brothers in laying down a steady stream of suppressive fire. However, it was starkly apparent to the crew of the ‘Schwartzie’ that there was little, if anything, they could have conceivably hoped to accomplish against something so massive and seemingly indestructible. Peering into the turret’s rangefinder, Siegfried lined up another shot with the main gun before bellowing out, “Feuer!”

The entire cabin shook as Frank fired off another eighteen kilogram[4] shell towards the beast. With a pronounced ping the smoking brass shell was quickly jettisoned onto the floor below as Müller called for yet another shell. Down below, Schlosser Zipfel turned away from the boiler gauges he’d been monitoring and pulled the feed lever, delivering the requested shell in a whir of spinning gears and rattling chains.

From his command seat, Kommandant Stoßauge watched as the high-explosive shell detonated against the leviathan’s scarified scales in a brilliant bloom of vermillion. But as had been the case time and time again, the monster gave no indication of having even felt the attack! As another shell was fired to equal ineffectiveness, Siegfried shouted out, “Switch to Panzergranaten – let’s see if we can punch a hole through that thing’s hide; Ernst, get Flinkemaus[5] on the horn and tell him to run counter to us!”

At his radio console, Ernst Fänger relayed the message as swiftly as he could, though it was not without some difficulties. Shouting up through the lower compartment, the Funker exclaimed over the din of the engine, “Kom’dant Flinkemaus is making the run now -- sir, I’m still getting some kind of interference on the funkbandbreite[6], I could barely hear him!” However, by the time the Kommandant could formulate a reply, Frank Müller’s booming voice filled the cabin as he shouted, “Beladen!” Instinctively lining up the rangefinder, Siegfried ordered, “Elevate thirteen degrees... and… Feuer!”

From his gunning pit atop the Sturmwagen, Walter Fisk (who had been duteously wasting high caliber ammunition on a target that was, for all intents and purposes, bullet-proof) was not surprised when the great battle wagon’s main cannon open fired for the umpteenth time. No, what surprised him was the ungodly sound that seemed to erupt from the enormous beast as the shell made purchase within its skin – something akin to annoyance, perhaps? Whatever it had been, it was the fact that the horrid monstrosity turned its fiery red gaze towards the tank he currently occupied that really set Walter’s hackles on edge!

However, just as his life seemed to flash before his eyes, he was relieved to see the creature whip its head away from them and towards its other side, as the blocky form of Sturmwagen Eight crested over a hill and fired its own gun into the monster’s flank! Taking this as an opportunity, Walter opened up the turret hatch and slinked his way down into the confines of the machine. Along the way, he informed Kommandant Stoßauge of what he’d seen, and offered his own suggestion that they keep a good distance away from the target...

Amidst the mud-filled trenches and hastily stacked barricades, the steady torrent of rifle fire had trickled down into a small sputtering stream; it was apparent to the hundreds of soldiers who bore witness to what was playing out before them that there was little, if any use in wasting rounds at this point. From his position at the front, Oberstabsfeldwebel Hermann Kühn all but screamed at his radio operator, “Tell Reserve-Com[7] that I don’t give a damn about protocol – those Pferdlanders are to be evacuated immediately!”

Fifty meters to his left, a pair of Toads had finally finished setting up a heavy assault mortar and were in the motions of loading an explosive shell when he cried out, “You two – don’t waste the ordinance; I need you to fire off a flare!” Turning towards one another, the pair of amphibians briskly nodded as one of them took a hopping dash back to the front trenches. In less than a minute he had returned with a spherical canister about half a meter across. As they loaded the flare into the mortar, Hermann turned again to his Funker and ordered, “Contact HQ and request concentrated heavy artillery at grid position 192 539; use the flare as a reference point!”

As if to emphasize the point, the mortar team chose that moment to fire their gun off. The muffled thump of the charge may have gone unnoticed amidst the symphony of battle that surrounded them, but the near blinding ruby radiance of the flare was seen by all as it gracefully danced and jigged ever higher into the sky, casting the entire battlefield beneath an incarnadine haze that was as eerie as it was beautiful. The pouring rain seemed to shimmer and shine, with droplets closest to the flare taking an appearance much like sparks of molten metal…

Time seemingly stood still for Gho’Zra as he became beholden to the warm glow that filled the sky. Memories long forgotten; sights and sounds from a time long ago, passed before his mind’s eye. He recalled a rainy evening upon a beach, the setting sun casting a red glare against the land and illuminating the figures of a dozen of his own kind. A dark night amidst forested glades – in the distance a brilliant plume of smoke and flame springing forth from a distant mountain; the haze of the sky was like pooling embers. A moonlit plain of cycads and ferns – all around him there shone the rubicund twinkling of thousands upon thousands of fireflies performing their timeless dance.

A blinding white flash that faded red and eventually black, a wave of pressure that broke against the earth – pain so excruciating that all he felt was beyond his mind’s ability to comprehend. The memory of a scarlet sky that melded seamlessly with his own blood as it spilled forth into a river of agony and torment passed before him. Crimson fury and burning rage – all-consuming anger! He could feel it welling forth from his very soul – an ardent hatred of such ferocity that it bordered the realm of madness! He could no longer contain such animosity within himself!

Rearing back, he let loose a roar that shook the very heaven and earth – a grinding tear of metal and growling thunder that broke through the clouds and the rain, through the mud and the noise and the cold of the night; heralding death and destruction and striking at the very heart of ever living creature on the face of God’s earth! From his vantage point atop the walls of Canterlot, Oberst Mittens felt an overwhelming sense of fright that tore at his very soul as he bore witness to the avatar of destruction’s legendary fury; the burning red skies and smoking terrain were every bit a vision of hell!

The Oberst was shaken from his stupor when a young courier all but ran into him, huffing and wheezing and looking a little worse for wear. In the young calico’s hand was a crumpled strip of paper, which he proffered to the commanding officer while breathlessly exclaiming, “Fire request from section twelve, sir!” Wondering why a request for artillery fire was being sent straight to him and not someone lower on the chain of command, Oberst Mittens took the scrap before dismissing the messenger.

Carefully reviewing the string of text, the reasoning behind sending the message to him became quickly apparent. Someone had just requested a Donnerschlag[8] operation, and the only way to get the dozen or so batteries to fire off simultaneously required that he set it up between the various artillery commanders. Deciding that now was as good a time as ever to carry out such a high level operation, Mittens ordered his personal Funkertruppe[9] to ring up his artillery officers and plug him directly into the call. Picking up the wired transmitter and placing a set of receivers on his head, Oberst Mittens Von Fleischtauben was swift in handing down his orders…

While the Colonel was busy setting up a massive artillery strike, the crew of Sturmwagen Seven was hard at work just trying to survive! A pattern of counter-rotational attacks between engines Seven and Eight had proven thus far to be an effective measure at keeping the monster in place. When the beast moved to retaliate against one tank, the other would quickly strike it from the opposite direction. Were that the situation was less dire; they might have even called it a game. But this was no game, and there was a very real likelihood of death should one false move be made!

Said false move was made from an altogether unexpected angle – the flare that had just seconds before been fired off had triggered something in the target, something dark and dangerous. With a fluidity that had no right belonging to something so massive, the monster deftly avoided the next volley of shells before opening up its horrendous maw and loosing a stream of molten white energy towards its left, catching Sturmwagen Eight beneath the torrent!

From his radio berth aboard the ‘Schwartzie’, Ernst Fänger physically ripped the receivers from his head before vomiting to the side. He’d heard the screaming crew of the Number Eight as they were cooked alive for all of five seconds – their inhuman shrieks and howls would most likely plague his nightmares for the rest of his life. Finally managing to spit out the last of the bile in his mouth, he hoarsely exclaimed, “Wagon Eight’s gone, sir.” The whole crew grew pale at the implication. For once, the ever-present smirk on Siegfried’s face was missing; in its place was a thin-lipped frown, barely noticeable but striking all the same as he emotionlessly ordered, “Into the tree line, full speed; Toni, open the steam vents and give us some cover.”…

From his position some two hundred meters away from what had once been Sturmwagen Eight, veteran Sturmtrupper Leopold Lachespringer nearly choked on his cigar. He’d been leading his squad towards the forest’s edge under the Eight’s cover in the hopes of setting up a radio transmitter. The plan had been to leg it under the tank’s wake and set up the transmitter array so that they could boost their signal – the interference from earlier had been steadily growing, and they were in danger of losing the only lines of communication they had.

Now, however, he was beginning to wonder whether it was a pointless effort or not. The symbol of Voroshian military might he’d been following was now little more than a molten pile of slag. He vaguely noted that the other tank had given up the fight as soon as the Eight had been hit, heading towards the trees at a breakneck pace and venting off steam to act as a smokescreen. He was finally brought out of his near trancelike state when one of his comrades grabbed him around the arm and exclaimed, “Leo, we’ve got to keep moving – we’re too exposed out here!” With a nod of agreement, the veteran Toad fell in line with the rest of his squad and made a run towards the forest…

Surveying his own handiwork, Gho’Zra felt a perverse sort of enjoyment in the destruction he had wrought upon the mechanical nuisance. But his glee was only short-lived, replaced by the growing conflagration of anger that welled up from within him. These pests may not have been of the same ilk as he was accustomed to, but it was more than self-evident that they were in league with his enemies! Turning in wroth once more upon the hapless hamlet, the scion of hate was brought to pause by a rumbling in the distance.

Tilting his head in mild curiosity, the mountainous monster let loose his own reverberating growl. As if to answer him, the entire sky all but fell upon him! The whistling of ordinance preceded such a great upheaval of earth and stone that it could only be described as biblical in its nature! Billowing smoke and searing flame filled the entire valley in an almighty explosion that engulfed the great behemoth and shook the whole of the land, knocking trees flat and loosening the foundations of the earth beneath it! As Rainbow Dash and Big Macintosh made their exit from the Hospital, they were all but thrown to the ground beneath such kinetic might!

With a scream of both pain and fear, the cyan Pegasus had to fight to retain consciousness under the oppressive wave of energy. Macintosh fared little better, though he was quick to right himself and pull the mare up and onto his back. All across the trenches and amidst the town and forest edge, the soldiers of the Reich fell silent in awe of such a display of outrageous might. Surely, many thought, surely nothing could survive such an assault? As the cloud of flame slowly faded to black, many even dared to hope that the beast had succumbed.

Bouts of cheering shakily sprang up along the line; a collective sigh of relief passed through the ranks – they’d done it! Their hopes were shattered, though, as the smoke and detritus finally cleared to reveal a looming shadow, it’s still form briefly illuminated beneath another flash of lightning, revealing to the horror of everyone that the beast had not only weathered the onslaught, but showed not physical signs of having even been bombarded to begin with! Opening its blazing red eyes, Gho’Zra wrenched its vicious maw wide and let loose a roar of defiance!

Such was the sight that many men of lesser constitutions felt their bowels tremble in fear, and even those soldiers who had seen the worst that war had to offer felt their hearts clench in despair. Their terror only grew in stature as they beheld a humming incandescence that manifested amidst the beast’s spines, saturating it in a mantle of pure white light. Hunching forward, Gho’Zra spewed forth an acrimonious howl that quickly bled into a pulsating stream of deleterious might! All those present beheld as the radiant river of destruction issued overhead, catching to flame all beneath it, before detonating within the heart of Ponyville!

From her perch on Big Macintosh’s back, Rainbow gasped in horror – the attack had struck dead upon where both the Carousel Boutique and Sugarcube Corner had once resided. She could do nothing but weep in the understanding of what that entailed. With a mere twist of his massive neck, the vengeful titan of rage and pain brought his ire to bear across the landscape, carving a molten rent across the town like a scalding knife, bringing low that which stood before its inimitable onslaught. Adjusting his aim, Gho’Zra finally wrested his retribution to purchase upon the lines of earthen trenches from which the miserable wretches that struck at him hid.

From atop a watchtower, Bubbi Plüschaar stared in horror as the bright beam of negative energies hit home amidst a cache of ammunition, igniting the stockpile into a blazing inferno that engulfed dozens of his fellow soldiers, and set alight dozens more! The screams of fear and pain carried across the pounding rain which refused to extinguish their burning bodies. Never in all of his years had he imagined such destruction – such evil! But thoughts of fleeing were far from his mind as he descended the ladder of his post; he needed to help those men!

From the edge of the forest, Leopold was in likewise a mindset. But while his heart told him to rush to the aid of his brothers in arms, his mind rationalized to him that the best way to help those poor souls was to finish setting up the transmitter array. And it was with this thought that he helped secure the last component to the machine before standing back and letting their technician specialist bring it online. When it finally began transmitting, the entire squad all but leapt in joy as the Toad quickly grabbed the transceiver.

“This is Major Lachespringer of Sturmtrupp [10] Five requesting immediate assistance,” he began, “the target is inflicting heavy casualties and nothing we use seems to be working; Command, we’re dying out here – send help immediately!” And with that, he dropped the microphone and led his squad once more into the field; there was no sense in staying put to wait for a response – the transmitter was one way only, meant to boost the signal enough to get a message through before whatever had been causing interference finally overwhelmed the bandwidth.

From upon the walls of the Equestrian capital, Oberst Mittens listened intently to the all channel message that had come from the edge of sector twelve. He personally knew Major Lachespringer, and, when coupled from what he was witnessing from atop the mountainside, he could see that the original plans set in place were no longer viable. Switching the frequency to ‘All’, he exclaimed, “This is Oberst Fleischtauben – Operation Feuerfalle is now in effect; all divisions are to make their way to sector seven, prepare to repel the enemy’s advance!”

Turning to one of his Funkers, Oberst Mittens calmly inquired, “What is the status of our railway guns?” A bespectacled, black haired Ferret attentively responded, “Railway gun ‘Brecher’ is fully prepped, Herr Oberst; guns ‘Hummer’ and ‘Faust’ both report that they are entering the final stages of fire-prep[11].” With a grunt, Mittens turned once more to view the chaos growing at the foot of the mountainside. In his mind he debated what he should do next; a full salvo from all three guns would be preferable, but to wait another fifteen to twenty minutes for it was unconscionable.

With the implicit understanding that to delay any further meant more young men had to die, the Oberst made his decision and demanded, “Order ‘Brecher’ to fire on grid point 186 522, train the angle to twenty-five degrees and be prepared to move to defense track two[12] as soon as they’ve taken the shot.” With an affirmation, the Ferret quickly began hammering out orders on one of the multitude of telegraphy modules…

Two kilometers north of the action, the massive form of the ‘Brecher’ was a hive of action as all manner of Cats, Ferrets, Toads and Gila Monsters ran to and fro; the shouting of a dozen different officers and the exclamations of a score-fold of engineers, gunners and brakemen created an air of organized chaos. The whirring of hydraulics all but overpowered the discordant symphony as the mighty thirty-three meter[13] barrel of the siege gun slowly lowered to the proscribed angle.

From his elevated position on the command deck, the ‘Brecher’s senior commanding officer (A Badger[14] by the name of Perfoss Fenestrus and of the rank of Hauptmann) had taken to once more reviewing the grid chart that had been issued to his unit. From the coordinates given to him from HQ, it looked as if he was firing directly on the front lines of their defenses. He’d actually requested reconfirmation on the position just to be sure. Whatever was going on in the distance, it was obviously going poorly.

To his right came a Gila-Monster wearing a set of grease covered overalls, a chart in hand and a string of saliva running down his jaws (though that last part was more a common trait of all Gila-Monsters and less a unique characteristic of this individual). Handing the clipboard to Hauptmann Fenestrus, the technician gutturally announced, “The hydraulic locks have been put in place, the breech has been locked and the survey team says that all the necessary adjustments have been made – all we need now is your go-ahead, sir.”

In the lilting accent that was so characteristic of his people, Perfoss replied, “Excellent,” before grabbing a standing microphone and casually demanding, “Fire team, on my mark… fire.” As one the entire division assigned to the hulking siege engine turned away and covered their ears in time to avoid being deafened by an earth-shaking blast that set the Hauptmann’s teeth to rattling! A great, six-pronged flare of belching flames and putrid black smoke was all that was left to see as the shell escaped at a velocity near the speed of sound…

Amidst the mud-filled trenches, pounding rain and burning rubble, Oberstabsfeldwebel Hermann Kühn could only stare in detached fascination as he surveyed the ravaged hell-scape that had only so recently been a verdant green valley on the edge of a quaint little village – a village that was now set ablaze. His ears still rang from the explosive detonation of the ammunitions stockpile. He’d been close by when it had gone off; the force of the blast had literally thrown him for a loop – he was fairly certain that a few of his ribs were broken.

Looking up, he could only stare in abject wonder at the looming shape of what could only be described as a god of the Old Ways as it continued its assault against all that stood in its path. He must have looked quite the fool, merely standing there and openly gawking as the world went to hell around him, but he was far too concussed to care about that. He remained as such by the time Gefreiter Plüschaar came upon him.

For the young Angora, there was something unnerving about the vacant look of his commanding officer’s persona, and it was only compounded by the nightmare that encompassed their surroundings. Deciding to go with action instead of thought, Bubbi grabbed the Oberstabsfeldwebel by the arm and started leading him away from the front and towards the town. He didn’t get very far before he was met by Theodore, who was currently sporting a gaping, blood-crusted eye socket and a rather nasty shrapnel wound to the chest.

Surprisingly, the Toad acted as if there was nothing wrong as he sidled up to the two of them, grabbing Hermann’s other arm as he hollered at the top of his lungs, “Grab the wounded and fall back to the interior line!” Those soldiers who managed to hear him over the din of battle were quick to pass the message along before they too took up their wounded brothers and slowly made their way towards the second line of trenches located further into the town.

Fixing his remaining good eye on Bubbi, the crimson Toad asked, “You okay, kid?” Opening his mouth to reply, the young Gefreiter halted mid syllable as his ears perked up as a low-pitched whistle filled the sky, followed by the unmistakable sound of discharging ordinance. Eye widening in realization, Theodore screamed, “Fuck – earth-breaker[15]; take cover!” He then proceeded to toss the three of them to the ground as those around them did much the same…

Having made it to the first line of trenches, Gho’Zra had been dead-set on wreaking as much destruction upon these miserable creatures as could be conceived. However, his attention was drawn away from milling tide of fleeing parasites by a sound the likes of which he’d never heard before; akin to the howling of wind but so much deeper. A split second later and his entire world was reduced to a deep, splitting pain from within his chest before it blossomed into sweltering ball of vermillion flame!

From his perch atop the walls of Canterlot, Oberst Mittens could only stare in amazement as the monstrosity’s chest exploded outwards into a carnal blossom of ribs and viscera! Even from this angle he could clearly see the exposed, still-beating heart of the beast as it pumped steaming spumes of viscous red blood for hundreds of meters in all directions. The ululating cry of absolute pain the beast released was stifled by its own weltering gore which swiftly bubbled up from its throat!

It had been a direct hit, and yet, somehow, that thing was still alive! There should be no way that it could even remain standing! For his part, Gho’Zra slowly recognized the fact that it was staring at a gaping hole in its chest that was quickly knitting itself back together at an alarming (and rather painful) rate. Stumbling backwards a few steps, he had to physically shake his head to clear the cobwebs that had taken up residency so suddenly within his skull.

But while his mind was still reeling, his body was quicker to react (even if only on the most basal of levels), as he opened his jaws and began spewing molten hot retribution – the mist of vaporizing blood as it boiled and evaporated under the heat of the powerful ray cast a demonic red haze across his terrifying face! The beam of luminous death spilled across the landscape before landing home upon a distant orchard on the outskirts of town.

It was to Macintosh’s eternal horror that he bore witness to the demise of both his home and his family! The scream would not leave his throat before both he and Rainbow Dash were buried beneath a pile of rubble as the monster’s great serpentine tail flailed about! All across Ponyville the flames of perdition had manifested into a great conflagration that highlighted the fleeing shadows of both soldier and civilian alike as they made for a mad bid to escape the doomed town.

As his mind finally cleared, and as the last of his wounds closed up, Gho’Zra cast his crimson gaze across the landscape before releasing a trumpeting cry of victory over his adversaries. Striding into the rain and through the flames and across the mud and amidst a sea of death, the vengeful god of rage fell upon all who would flee before him. From where he’d fallen amidst the mired loam, Bubbi Plüschaar could only watch in awe and terror as all fell before the beast like wheat beneath a scythe…

[1] KaN operatives are, as a rule, supposed to remain unknown to anyone outside of the organization. To openly admit to having contact with an operative is a good way to wind up dead.
[2] Roughly translated as the Experimental Weapons Development Project, the ‘Experimentelle Waffen Entwicklungsprojekt’ (EWE) is a branch of the Reich’s military R&D department in which some of the more theoretical aspects of military design are brought to practical application.
3 the Reichskanzler, who has shown a deep fascination with the idea of atomic weaponry, as well as a deep-seated fear that such weaponry might wind up in the hands of the Reich’s enemies.
[4] Roughly 40 pounds for those of you who don’t use Metric.
[5] The Commander of Sturmwagen Eight, Zippy Flinkemaus will go down in history as a Hero of the Reich for the sacrifice he made in those first few hours of the battle of Ponyville.
[6] Literally meaning Radio Bandwidth, the term funkbandbreite, as used here, refers specifically to the secure Voroshian Military radio bandwidth.
[7] The commanding officer of the reserve troops stationed furthest from the current fighting.
[8] Roughly translates to ‘Thunder strike’; a Donnerschlag operation is a specialized artillery maneuver where all available heavy ordinance is brought to bear on a single grid point in a synchronized fashion.
[9] Comprised of between eight to twelve individuals, a Funkertruppe is a crew of dedicated radio operators and specialists who work directly under the senior ranking officer of any military operation. It is through them that the SCO can coordinate with his officers and execute complex procedures as well as receive information from the battlefield in real time.
[10] Because of the elite nature of the Sturmtruppen Division, it is very rare to have more than a few dozen Assault Troopers at any given time. For this reason the basic unit designation ascribed to a Sturmtrupper is that of a Sturmtrupp (Assault Squad). Comprised of between four to eight individuals, a Sturmtrupp is allowed more autonomy on the field and is often selected to carry out highly dangerous and often suicidal missions. However, this is also offset by the fact that more often than not a seasoned Sturmtrupp is capable of executing missions that might often require a small army to accomplish under regular circumstances.
[11] It takes, on average, forty-two minutes to fully prepare a Voroshian railway gun. The mathematics and engineering calculation required to fire just one their massive 80 centimeter bunker-busting shells takes a team of thirty-six analytical specialists and scientific authorities to insure that the shot is perfect. As for the shells themselves, it takes a team of five Bison to push them up the breech ramp! It is because of these and many other factors that the railway gun is seldom ever used in a campaign – the time and resources needed to fire just once are often wasted due to the Voroshian emphasis on rapid assault deployment. It is in the rare situations for which defense is the primary focus of the military that the ‘Eckert Klasse’ railway gun truly shines. On a side note, the names of the three Railway Guns: Brecher, Hummer and Faust literally translate to Crusher, Lobster and Fist - in a personal reference to a game of chance my friends and I would play in our childhood back in Oberwiessbach.
[12] The railway guns are situated on a set of circular rail lines to allow for a three-hundred and sixty degree turn radius; this is referred to as Defense Track One. However, there is a second set of tracks that branch off from those lines that lead to a semi-static point intended for the defense of the mountainside and the city of Canterlot itself; this is Defense Track Two.
[13] 33 meters is roughly equivalent to 108 feet and 3 inches. This monster of a barrel has a caliber of 80 centimeters (roughly 31 inches for those of you who don’t use metric), and is used to fire the titanic ‘Gottes Gericht’ (God’s Judgment), a 7,100 kilogram (or roughly 15,653 pound) armor piercing shell containing 350 kilograms (or 770 pounds) of explosive weight!
[14] Haling from a kingdom called Meles, to the south of the Katzereich, the Badgers have been a long standing commercial ally of the Reich. When the Boars of the Hill Land started demanding tribute from Meles some thirteen years ago, the King of Meles, Varius Quintus Lutumorius, personally requested the aide of Vorosh. In exchange, he offered to lower exchange rates, supply a constant stream of Copper (found in vast quantities amidst the mountainous kingdom), and, perhaps most importantly, the best and brightest of his kingdom’s soldiers to serve under the Kaiser’s banner.
[15] The colloquial term used in reference to the ‘Gottes Gericht’ Railway gun shell. It is an apt name, as the shell can penetrate up to 20 meters of solid earth.

Here are reference photos as to what the Railway guns actually look like. The template is based upon the famous 'Schwerer Gustav' and 'Dora' 80cm Railway Siege Cannons used by Germany during the Second Great War. It was responsible for breaking the impregnable string of underground bunkers and forts that protected Sevastopol during Operation Barbarossa.

Here is an image of one of 'Schwerer Gustav' in static pose. The 200 some odd men who were assigned to its operation stand in the foreground.

Here is a rare image of the 'Schwere Gustav' having fired one of its bunker-breaking shells outside of Sevastopol (the actual target was "White Cliff", which was also known as ammunition mountain). Notice the Six-pronged flare of the muzzle-break; this is actually the air warping as the shell broke the sound-barrier.

The Following three images should give you an idea of just how Massive these guns were, and a better appreciate of their Technological sophistication!

Author's Note

Well, here it is - part one of the final act. Things are going to become rather hectic in the next chapter; it was actually the chapter that first entered my mind when I began developing this story. However, it is also going to a rather long chapter that is meant to close off a few loose ends and set the stage for the final half of this act. This means that you should not expect a new chapter any time soon. As for why it took so long to get this chapter up and running - I had a rather bad run in with a nasty Influenza strain that kept me bed-ridden for most of three and a half weeks, followed by the ubiquitous Common Cold, which kept me feeling under the weather for a further two weeks. On top of this, my job has become more complicated due in part to a promotion and a new work schedule. Finally, family matters are at the forefront of my personal agenda, and my future child has absorbed a lot of my energy and focus. If I am to be honest, there was a span of about two weeks where I just didn't feel like messing with it; that period of time also correlated with an increase in the amount of time I spent playing 'Primal: theHunter', 'Sins of a Solar Empire: Rebellion', and a small amount of 'Dota 2'.

Anyways, as I said earlier, don't expect the next chapter any time soon - there's going to be a period of about sixteen weeks in which every waking moment of my life is going to be spent dealing with my Job or with my Family. I apologize for this in advance, and hope that you can all understand.

As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please let me know what you think about it all.
Before I go, I'd like to ask that you inform me of any and all grammatical errors you come across throughout this story; I'd would be extremely appreciative of that.

Until next time!