Fallout: Equestria - Memories of a Caravaneerby Renegade the UnicornChaptersPrologueChapter 1: Like A Bullet To Your BrainChapter 2: Revenge Is A Dish Best ServedChapter 3: Welcome to WaterholeChapter 4: Dancers and DamselsPrologueOnce upon a time in the magical land of Equestria… War. War never changes. The end of the world came and went, and pretty much as we predicted: too many ponies and not enough resources. In the time of the Regal Sisters, the two greatest empires, the pony nation of Equestria, and an unknown zebra empire, waged a world war that cultimated in both sides being engulfed in magical hellfire. But war never changes. Those who decided to flee the apocalypse did so in large underground shelters known as Stables, shutting out the horrors of the outside world in a false sense of isolation. Those who didn’t either mutated into ghouls, died, or just tried their hardest to survive. Eventually, the balefire cleared to give us a new world. Unfortunately, it was a world full of death, chaos, and destruction. As the survivors of the apocalypse struggled to survive and the pegasi isolated themselves from the world below, heroes came forth to stand up for what was right. Many of these heroes became legends. Littlepip, the Stable Dweller. Blackjack, the Security Mare. Puppysmiles, the Ghost of 52. However, among the turmoil of the political wars and chaos of what was once Southern Equestria, there have been no heroes. Until now. An old journal recounting the adventures of a unicorn caravaneer were discovered by a group of Steel Rangers sent to scout for new technology. The journeys of a once-great hero will finally be revealed after years of being forgotten. Fallout: Equestria – Memories of a Caravaneer A side story to Kkat’s Fallout: Equestria Written by Renegade the Unicorn Chapter 1: Like A Bullet To Your BrainChapter 1: Like A Bullet To Your Brain “Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.” The sun beat down on me as I moved my pack bramin Ol’ Bessie through the Southern Equestrian Wasteland. We were on our way to a town called New Dodge Junction, and ever since we’d left my home in Hayston all we’d seen was sand for miles. My parents named me Renegade, on account of my rebellious behavior. I’m your typical unicorn stallion, with a red coat and a black mane. I have brown eyes, and my cutie mark is a map, which shows my talent for finding unusual things. Where was I? Oh right. My story. As we were wandering around, Bessie spoke up. “Renegade?” she asked. “Yeah?” I replied, having been lost in my thoughts. “I think we’re lost.” “Well, what happened to the damn map?!?” I asked, a bit panicked. “I think you lost it.” This angered me. “Oh, so now because I lost the fucking map, that automatically makes us lost?” I shouted. “Yes.” my mutant bovine companion replied “Pretty intelligent for you to say, considering you’re a cow.” Immediately, Bessie’s look changed from one of worry to a look of anger. “YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” she shouted. As the two of us began to argue, neither myself or Bessie noticed something, or should I say, somepony, coming nearby us. Suddenly, I heard a rather hoarse (no pun intended) voice fall onto my ears. “Well, well, well, who do we have here?” the voice cackled in a high-pitched tone. I turned around to see who had spoken. “Oh shit…” I muttered when I saw who it was. The pony in question appeared to be a raider. Specifically, an earth pony raider. He seemed to be rather short, and I could have sworn he was a colt, if not for the bits of facial hair on his muzzle. His fur was almost a beige color, and his mane was a dirty black, just like his cold, soulless eyes. “COME ON OUT, BOYS! WE’VE GOT OURSELVES A PRIZE!” he shouted out to seemingly no one. Just as I was about to laugh and call him an idiot, several other stallions about Shorty’s height, came from out of nowhere. ‘This one’s gonna be easy to kill…” a lime green Pegasus stallion said. “Damn it, Green Grape, we ain’t gonna kill him…not yet.” Shorty retorted. “Then what are we gonna do?” Green Grape asked as two other stallions, also Earth ponies, held me down. “We’re gonna make him remember our name. AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT OUR NAME IS, BOY?’ the beige stallion shouted at me. I simply whimpered in terror. “We’re the Shorties. Fittin’, seeing as we ain’t taller than a colt.” Shorty continued, drawing a few knives in one hoof, and a weathered .9mm in the other. After tossing the knives to his cronies, Shorty got on top of me and loaded the pistol. “Kill the cow.” He ordered. “And make him watch.” He finished, a sadistic grin on his face. “No…” I muttered as the raiders robbed me of my cargo and slaughtered the only real friend I had since I was a colt. As I felt the tears welling up in a mixture of sadness and anger, the midget on my chest grinned. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. ‘Cause we’re gonna make sure you wished you was never born.” He said, loading the gun and pointing it at me. “Trust me. It’ll feel like a bullet to your brain.” He then pulled the trigger. “You…bastard…” I strained to say as everything went black. Chapter 2: Revenge Is A Dish Best ServedChapter 2: Revenge is A Dish Best Served… “Are you saying revenge is mayonnaise?” “Whoa…easy there…” I heard a voice say as I came to. Where the hell was I? As was regaining consciousness, I saw a Pegasus stallion kneeling next to me. He was a butter-yellow Pegasus with brown hair and blue eyes, with a kind expression. Groggily getting up, I looked at his cutie mark: a syringe with a green liquid in it. “Who are you? And where am I?” I asked him. “Not too fast, son. You’ve been out sometime now. I’m Cough Medicine. You’re in my shack.” “WHAT THE FUCK? WHY THE HELL AM I IN HERE? I SHOULD BE DEAD!” I yelled. “First off, no need to cuss. Second, I brought you here. Third, you should be. I found you still kickin’ so I decided to poke around in your noggin. Took me almost 2 days to get that tiny shell out. Now get up and get your bearings straight, alright, ummm…” “Renegade.” I replied, slowly and carefully getting off the bed I was on. Looking around, I saw the shack was aged, with dust everywhere. There was a couch and a chair in the next room, and a few doctor’s bags in the corner. Looking to my left I saw a few bookshelves and what appeared to be a chemistry set on the desk. “Alright, Renegade. Now that you’ve got yourself up and ready, I thought we could play a game.” Cough Medicine said. “Follow me.” He said, going into the next room. A game. Seriously? I’m not 5 anymore, Doc. I thought as I followed Cough Medicine and sat down on a rusted folding chair. “Now…I’m gonna say a word, and you say the first thing that pops into your mind. Home.” Cough Medicine said. “Heart.” I replied, remembering the old saying. “Cow.” Suddenly my eyes widened as I started to remember. Holding back the tears, I responded, “Friend.” “…Okay. Candy.” “Reward.” The exchange continued for a few minutes until Cough told me to stop. “Well, Renegade. You certainly are an enigma, but you’re a smart cookie.” The Pegasus said. Leading me to what appeared to be an old jukebox, the doctor said, “This machine helps ponies with their most vital characteristics. It’s an old Vita-Colt 2000 they made before the war. Try it out, and when you’re done, tell me.” He said, exiting the room. The machine had seven categories: Strength, Perception, Endurance, Charisma, Intelligence, Agility, and Luck. I had 50 points to spend on each, along with two traits. And they were all numbered from one to ten. Strength? I was pretty strong, so I’d say a 6. Perception? 3, remembering the attack. Endurance? Maybe 4. Charisma, last time I checked, maybe a 5. Intelligence was a 9. Agility…7. And Luck was a whopping 10. Now I had to choose my traits. Wild Wasteland and Small Guns. When I was finished, I went to the doc. “I wanna give you something.” He said, handing me a jumpsuit with a 45 on the back. After I put on the suit, he gave me a big clunky metal thing. “It’s a PipBuck 2000. I grew up in a Stable. It’s a bit obso lete, but it’ll still work.” Immediately the device fused to my right foreleg. Handing me a somewhat broken pistol, Cough Medicine looked at me. “If you wanna find those fellas, I suggest asking in Waterhole. It’s a little town not too far from here. I’ve already got the location set up on the PipBuck. Happy trails.” And with that, I dashed out the door. FOOTNOTE: LEVEL UP! QUEST ADDED- “Ask the folks at Waterhole about your attack. Chapter 3: Welcome to WaterholeChapter 3: Welcome to Waterhole “Don’t leave me here! I’m in hillbilly hell! My IQ’s dropping by the second!...” Standing outside of Cough Medicine’s shack, broken pistol in my hoof, I stood at the crumbling road before me. It was a charcoal gray road, almost untouched by the megaspells, except for the split sections. Going southwest towards the marker on my PipBuck, I felt the cumbersome device weigh my right forehoof down a bit. After a while of seeing nothing but sand, I could see what appeared to be a small frontier town in the distance. “That must be Waterhole…” I muttered to myself, walking forward some more. Looking at the sign, I muttered, “Yep. This is it alright.” The sign itself read WELCOME TO WATERHOLE in typeface, the kind you’d see in pre-war cowpony movies. Suddenly, I heard a voice . “HALT!” At first thinking it was a ghoul or some REALLY pissed stallion, I took a closer look. The owner of the voice turned out to be a medium chocolate-brown griffon. And he had a revolver pointed straight at me. “Whoa there, no need to point a revolver straight at me.” I assured, raising my hooves up in innocence. “Yeah, right. Why should I believe you? For all I know, you could be trying to rob me.” The eagle-lion hybrid replied, reloading his gun. “Ummm…because I’m innocent?” I asked sheepishly. The griffon narrowed his eyes at me. “You don’t look innocent to me. Now tell me: Who sent you?’ “Cough Medicine. I wanted to ask some questions.” “Alright. What do ya wanna ask?” “Did you happen to see some raiders, about yay tall?” I asked, demonstrating with my hooves. “No, but I think there are some people who might.” The griffon said, heading towards town. “Well, I guess I have no choice.” I muttered. Footnote; Level up! Perk gained: Are You Pondering What I’m Pondering?- You are now able to question and interrogate other characters. You gain +1 Speech and special dialogue options with other characters. Chapter 4: Dancers and DamselsChapter 4: Dancers and Damsels “Blue moon, you saw me standing alone…” Walking into Waterhole, the griffon told me a bit about himself. His name was Ironclaw, and he was the deputy sheriff for the town. He had been on guard duty when he encountered me. Looking around, I saw the buildings had the same look as the entrance: made of aged wood with typeface signs. Stopping in front of a building, Ironclaw looked at me. “I’m stopping for a drink. Come in if you want.” He said. And with that, he left. Looking up at the building, I saw that it didn’t have a typeface sign. Instead, it had a sign made up of neon letters reading OASIS SALOON. Shrugging, I entered the bar and was both surprised and disgusted by what I saw. Inside, the worst ponies and zebras from all corners of the wastes had gathered. You named it, this place had it: Outlaws, bandits, the whole shebang. The saloon itself had a bar, tables, and a stage, probably for live music. Scanning the building, I saw Ironclaw sitting at the bar, drinking a Sparkle Cola. Sitting at a stool next to Ironclaw, I pounded my hoof like an impatient foal. “Whaddya want?” the bartender asked me. He was a dark green stallion dressed in a shirt and apron, with five o’clock shadow to boot. “A bottle of Victory Punch.” I replied. For those of you who don’t know, Victory Punch was a drink they made before the war, manufactured by a subsidiary of Sparkle Cola called The Victory Punch Company. The five flavors the drink came in were Party Punch, Banan-za, Orange Morange, Great Grape, and Tropi-Colt. Getting out the drink, the barkeep held out his hoof for the payment. I dug out the exact amount of bottle caps needed, and handed them over. Sipping his drink, Ironclaw told me about the place. It was run by a pony named Full House and his goons. They had “bought” the saloon from whatever poor sap had run the place, and had been causing trouble ever since. As Ironclaw was talking, a stallion dressed as a cowpony walked onto the stage, microphone in his hoof. “FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS!” he shouted. “Tonight, for one night only, you will get to see our favorite dancer Epic Rainbow as she dances for your pleasure!” Several zebras hooted. “And no, not that kind of pleasure!” the cowpony said. “And now…heeeere’s Epic!” A spotlight shown, but nopony came out. “Uhhh…tonight’s show will be slightly delayed…” the cowpony laughed nervously. All of a sudden, I heard a mare’s terrified screams. “Did you hear that, Ironclaw?” I asked. The griffon nodded. “Probably Full House causing trouble.” He said. “Let’s go.” We then headed towards the back of the stage, towards a dressing room. Footnote: Level Up!
PrologueOnce upon a time in the magical land of Equestria… War. War never changes. The end of the world came and went, and pretty much as we predicted: too many ponies and not enough resources. In the time of the Regal Sisters, the two greatest empires, the pony nation of Equestria, and an unknown zebra empire, waged a world war that cultimated in both sides being engulfed in magical hellfire. But war never changes. Those who decided to flee the apocalypse did so in large underground shelters known as Stables, shutting out the horrors of the outside world in a false sense of isolation. Those who didn’t either mutated into ghouls, died, or just tried their hardest to survive. Eventually, the balefire cleared to give us a new world. Unfortunately, it was a world full of death, chaos, and destruction. As the survivors of the apocalypse struggled to survive and the pegasi isolated themselves from the world below, heroes came forth to stand up for what was right. Many of these heroes became legends. Littlepip, the Stable Dweller. Blackjack, the Security Mare. Puppysmiles, the Ghost of 52. However, among the turmoil of the political wars and chaos of what was once Southern Equestria, there have been no heroes. Until now. An old journal recounting the adventures of a unicorn caravaneer were discovered by a group of Steel Rangers sent to scout for new technology. The journeys of a once-great hero will finally be revealed after years of being forgotten. Fallout: Equestria – Memories of a Caravaneer A side story to Kkat’s Fallout: Equestria Written by Renegade the Unicorn
Chapter 1: Like A Bullet To Your BrainChapter 1: Like A Bullet To Your Brain “Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.” The sun beat down on me as I moved my pack bramin Ol’ Bessie through the Southern Equestrian Wasteland. We were on our way to a town called New Dodge Junction, and ever since we’d left my home in Hayston all we’d seen was sand for miles. My parents named me Renegade, on account of my rebellious behavior. I’m your typical unicorn stallion, with a red coat and a black mane. I have brown eyes, and my cutie mark is a map, which shows my talent for finding unusual things. Where was I? Oh right. My story. As we were wandering around, Bessie spoke up. “Renegade?” she asked. “Yeah?” I replied, having been lost in my thoughts. “I think we’re lost.” “Well, what happened to the damn map?!?” I asked, a bit panicked. “I think you lost it.” This angered me. “Oh, so now because I lost the fucking map, that automatically makes us lost?” I shouted. “Yes.” my mutant bovine companion replied “Pretty intelligent for you to say, considering you’re a cow.” Immediately, Bessie’s look changed from one of worry to a look of anger. “YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” she shouted. As the two of us began to argue, neither myself or Bessie noticed something, or should I say, somepony, coming nearby us. Suddenly, I heard a rather hoarse (no pun intended) voice fall onto my ears. “Well, well, well, who do we have here?” the voice cackled in a high-pitched tone. I turned around to see who had spoken. “Oh shit…” I muttered when I saw who it was. The pony in question appeared to be a raider. Specifically, an earth pony raider. He seemed to be rather short, and I could have sworn he was a colt, if not for the bits of facial hair on his muzzle. His fur was almost a beige color, and his mane was a dirty black, just like his cold, soulless eyes. “COME ON OUT, BOYS! WE’VE GOT OURSELVES A PRIZE!” he shouted out to seemingly no one. Just as I was about to laugh and call him an idiot, several other stallions about Shorty’s height, came from out of nowhere. ‘This one’s gonna be easy to kill…” a lime green Pegasus stallion said. “Damn it, Green Grape, we ain’t gonna kill him…not yet.” Shorty retorted. “Then what are we gonna do?” Green Grape asked as two other stallions, also Earth ponies, held me down. “We’re gonna make him remember our name. AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT OUR NAME IS, BOY?’ the beige stallion shouted at me. I simply whimpered in terror. “We’re the Shorties. Fittin’, seeing as we ain’t taller than a colt.” Shorty continued, drawing a few knives in one hoof, and a weathered .9mm in the other. After tossing the knives to his cronies, Shorty got on top of me and loaded the pistol. “Kill the cow.” He ordered. “And make him watch.” He finished, a sadistic grin on his face. “No…” I muttered as the raiders robbed me of my cargo and slaughtered the only real friend I had since I was a colt. As I felt the tears welling up in a mixture of sadness and anger, the midget on my chest grinned. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. ‘Cause we’re gonna make sure you wished you was never born.” He said, loading the gun and pointing it at me. “Trust me. It’ll feel like a bullet to your brain.” He then pulled the trigger. “You…bastard…” I strained to say as everything went black.
Chapter 2: Revenge Is A Dish Best ServedChapter 2: Revenge is A Dish Best Served… “Are you saying revenge is mayonnaise?” “Whoa…easy there…” I heard a voice say as I came to. Where the hell was I? As was regaining consciousness, I saw a Pegasus stallion kneeling next to me. He was a butter-yellow Pegasus with brown hair and blue eyes, with a kind expression. Groggily getting up, I looked at his cutie mark: a syringe with a green liquid in it. “Who are you? And where am I?” I asked him. “Not too fast, son. You’ve been out sometime now. I’m Cough Medicine. You’re in my shack.” “WHAT THE FUCK? WHY THE HELL AM I IN HERE? I SHOULD BE DEAD!” I yelled. “First off, no need to cuss. Second, I brought you here. Third, you should be. I found you still kickin’ so I decided to poke around in your noggin. Took me almost 2 days to get that tiny shell out. Now get up and get your bearings straight, alright, ummm…” “Renegade.” I replied, slowly and carefully getting off the bed I was on. Looking around, I saw the shack was aged, with dust everywhere. There was a couch and a chair in the next room, and a few doctor’s bags in the corner. Looking to my left I saw a few bookshelves and what appeared to be a chemistry set on the desk. “Alright, Renegade. Now that you’ve got yourself up and ready, I thought we could play a game.” Cough Medicine said. “Follow me.” He said, going into the next room. A game. Seriously? I’m not 5 anymore, Doc. I thought as I followed Cough Medicine and sat down on a rusted folding chair. “Now…I’m gonna say a word, and you say the first thing that pops into your mind. Home.” Cough Medicine said. “Heart.” I replied, remembering the old saying. “Cow.” Suddenly my eyes widened as I started to remember. Holding back the tears, I responded, “Friend.” “…Okay. Candy.” “Reward.” The exchange continued for a few minutes until Cough told me to stop. “Well, Renegade. You certainly are an enigma, but you’re a smart cookie.” The Pegasus said. Leading me to what appeared to be an old jukebox, the doctor said, “This machine helps ponies with their most vital characteristics. It’s an old Vita-Colt 2000 they made before the war. Try it out, and when you’re done, tell me.” He said, exiting the room. The machine had seven categories: Strength, Perception, Endurance, Charisma, Intelligence, Agility, and Luck. I had 50 points to spend on each, along with two traits. And they were all numbered from one to ten. Strength? I was pretty strong, so I’d say a 6. Perception? 3, remembering the attack. Endurance? Maybe 4. Charisma, last time I checked, maybe a 5. Intelligence was a 9. Agility…7. And Luck was a whopping 10. Now I had to choose my traits. Wild Wasteland and Small Guns. When I was finished, I went to the doc. “I wanna give you something.” He said, handing me a jumpsuit with a 45 on the back. After I put on the suit, he gave me a big clunky metal thing. “It’s a PipBuck 2000. I grew up in a Stable. It’s a bit obso lete, but it’ll still work.” Immediately the device fused to my right foreleg. Handing me a somewhat broken pistol, Cough Medicine looked at me. “If you wanna find those fellas, I suggest asking in Waterhole. It’s a little town not too far from here. I’ve already got the location set up on the PipBuck. Happy trails.” And with that, I dashed out the door. FOOTNOTE: LEVEL UP! QUEST ADDED- “Ask the folks at Waterhole about your attack.
Chapter 3: Welcome to WaterholeChapter 3: Welcome to Waterhole “Don’t leave me here! I’m in hillbilly hell! My IQ’s dropping by the second!...” Standing outside of Cough Medicine’s shack, broken pistol in my hoof, I stood at the crumbling road before me. It was a charcoal gray road, almost untouched by the megaspells, except for the split sections. Going southwest towards the marker on my PipBuck, I felt the cumbersome device weigh my right forehoof down a bit. After a while of seeing nothing but sand, I could see what appeared to be a small frontier town in the distance. “That must be Waterhole…” I muttered to myself, walking forward some more. Looking at the sign, I muttered, “Yep. This is it alright.” The sign itself read WELCOME TO WATERHOLE in typeface, the kind you’d see in pre-war cowpony movies. Suddenly, I heard a voice . “HALT!” At first thinking it was a ghoul or some REALLY pissed stallion, I took a closer look. The owner of the voice turned out to be a medium chocolate-brown griffon. And he had a revolver pointed straight at me. “Whoa there, no need to point a revolver straight at me.” I assured, raising my hooves up in innocence. “Yeah, right. Why should I believe you? For all I know, you could be trying to rob me.” The eagle-lion hybrid replied, reloading his gun. “Ummm…because I’m innocent?” I asked sheepishly. The griffon narrowed his eyes at me. “You don’t look innocent to me. Now tell me: Who sent you?’ “Cough Medicine. I wanted to ask some questions.” “Alright. What do ya wanna ask?” “Did you happen to see some raiders, about yay tall?” I asked, demonstrating with my hooves. “No, but I think there are some people who might.” The griffon said, heading towards town. “Well, I guess I have no choice.” I muttered. Footnote; Level up! Perk gained: Are You Pondering What I’m Pondering?- You are now able to question and interrogate other characters. You gain +1 Speech and special dialogue options with other characters.
Chapter 4: Dancers and DamselsChapter 4: Dancers and Damsels “Blue moon, you saw me standing alone…” Walking into Waterhole, the griffon told me a bit about himself. His name was Ironclaw, and he was the deputy sheriff for the town. He had been on guard duty when he encountered me. Looking around, I saw the buildings had the same look as the entrance: made of aged wood with typeface signs. Stopping in front of a building, Ironclaw looked at me. “I’m stopping for a drink. Come in if you want.” He said. And with that, he left. Looking up at the building, I saw that it didn’t have a typeface sign. Instead, it had a sign made up of neon letters reading OASIS SALOON. Shrugging, I entered the bar and was both surprised and disgusted by what I saw. Inside, the worst ponies and zebras from all corners of the wastes had gathered. You named it, this place had it: Outlaws, bandits, the whole shebang. The saloon itself had a bar, tables, and a stage, probably for live music. Scanning the building, I saw Ironclaw sitting at the bar, drinking a Sparkle Cola. Sitting at a stool next to Ironclaw, I pounded my hoof like an impatient foal. “Whaddya want?” the bartender asked me. He was a dark green stallion dressed in a shirt and apron, with five o’clock shadow to boot. “A bottle of Victory Punch.” I replied. For those of you who don’t know, Victory Punch was a drink they made before the war, manufactured by a subsidiary of Sparkle Cola called The Victory Punch Company. The five flavors the drink came in were Party Punch, Banan-za, Orange Morange, Great Grape, and Tropi-Colt. Getting out the drink, the barkeep held out his hoof for the payment. I dug out the exact amount of bottle caps needed, and handed them over. Sipping his drink, Ironclaw told me about the place. It was run by a pony named Full House and his goons. They had “bought” the saloon from whatever poor sap had run the place, and had been causing trouble ever since. As Ironclaw was talking, a stallion dressed as a cowpony walked onto the stage, microphone in his hoof. “FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS!” he shouted. “Tonight, for one night only, you will get to see our favorite dancer Epic Rainbow as she dances for your pleasure!” Several zebras hooted. “And no, not that kind of pleasure!” the cowpony said. “And now…heeeere’s Epic!” A spotlight shown, but nopony came out. “Uhhh…tonight’s show will be slightly delayed…” the cowpony laughed nervously. All of a sudden, I heard a mare’s terrified screams. “Did you hear that, Ironclaw?” I asked. The griffon nodded. “Probably Full House causing trouble.” He said. “Let’s go.” We then headed towards the back of the stage, towards a dressing room. Footnote: Level Up!
