Tales by Balefirelight (a Fallout: Equestria Group Collab)

Lightby uselessnavy theseal

I watched the fire with suspicion, the north was cold and unforgiving, and it was only a matter of time before some gust of wind or sudden blizzard removed my only source of heat.

Perhaps more important than the heat, was what was heating in the pot hung over the fire. The cast iron pot held molten lead. I telekinetically gave it a stir with the steel ladle, then checked what I had resting in the snow near me. I took the Iron mold, undid the clasps that clamped it shut, tried opening it, failed, banged it on a rock, opened it, and let the ball, a perfect 0.704 inches in diameter with a slight ribbing to facilitate the rifling of my weapon, fall out. I held the ball over the pot, and used a pair of wire cutters to trim excess lead from the ball, allowing the trimming to fall into the pot to be reused. After that I refilled the mold with lead, and gave it time to cool on one of the rocks outlining the fire pit, then allowed it to finish cooling in the snow. I continued the process for some time, civilized ammo having long since became scarce in the old Equestrian Province of Quebuck.

As I continued to labour at my fire, three of my kinsmen arrived back at the fire. One had came back from a successful hunting venture, one had made a run to a nearby settlement for powder, and the third had been scouting. As we ate, and resupplied on ammo and powder, the scout delivered his news. “Imposer bushwhackers have begun making their way into our territory. They are following the old foot path, and if we are quick we can cut them off.” He said and we proceeded to debate on which route would be most effective.

After settling on a route and finishing our meal, we set off into the woods following the hatchet marks left on the trees that would lead us to a point on the foot path that should allow us time to set a sufficient ambush.

The Imposers, or the New Canterlot Republic as they called themselves, had came to our lands three years after the skies opened. We tried extending a hoof of friendship, but they flaunted their superiority, mocked our way of life, and insulted our oligarchs. Their demand that we submit to their reunified Equestria was unacceptable, and with our ways of life at stake, we had chosen war. The conflict had quickly diffused into skirmishing, as our environment was not conductive to their style of fighting, and we are too few in number to strike at them.

We reached our destination as night began to fall, and took up positions on either side of the path behind bushes, trees, or snow banks. As we waited day became night, a light snowfall began, and the sky was lit up with the ribbons of light only visible during the winter.

Then they came along. They trotted along the foot trail, bundled up tightly in their over coats, with their heads hung low signalling a low morale. I aimed my rifle from where I lay in wait, and, on the mimicked hoot of an owl, fired. The expanding gas burst into my face, and the heavy lead ball smashed into the unfortunate Imposer I had aimed at.

After the our opening volley, the remaining Imposers frantically turned their flashlights on the forest. They would have been better off blindly firing their weapons, as the light only allowed them a chance to see us bring our bayonets down into them.

In the dim light of the moon, and the northern lights celebrating our heroic deed we dragged the bodies off the path, and kicked snow over the blood spatter, come morning there would be no evidence of what had transpired. There would be more Imposer incursions, there would be more raids, the north was in a dark time, but on nights like this a tiny light would shine.