Etiamsi Omnes, Ego Non: Women of Brass and Steel

The fall of the nation had turned the once well-populated land into a collection of clusters. Once spread widely and ably served by mass transit and mass communication the hideous and execrable savages that controlled things had massed the ponies into various facilities. Most mares were concentrated into some kind of encampment, breeding or training or serving. Males were press-ganged into the services to keep the abuse steady and the invasions coming.

Vast areas of land had been depopulated, by forced relocations or wholesale slaughter of dissidents. That left those things left behind in a sad state of disrepair. From quaint villages to modest towns and even the manors of the gentry. Those quislings that took up the cause moved to the more populated core areas in order to have maximum opportunities to hurt, exploit and kill.

Being so empty did not make the waste-lands any safer. Without pegasi to control the weather there were often wildfires, floods or tornadoes. Without careful plant management things got overgrown, which meant more places for animals to establish the food chain. Nature red in tooth and claw, with magic to create apex predators that went beyond what raw nature could make.

The lands surrendered to the waste, though dangerous, were of great interest to the rebellion. Being essentially fallow-land ignored by the caribou patrols, due to the vast size, it was easy for them to set up covert farming operations and harvest a crop with speed and efficiency that outpaced the Stag King's larger but grossly inefficient agricultural holdings. And as they properly used earth pony magic they could bring forth more harvests faster.

As well, the hastily depopulated areas were full of useful, discarded items. Even if the caribou and their lackeys had broken and destroyed much, some things had been bypassed, hidden, or lost. There were plenty of spare bits of magical electronics, handy metal scraps, gem bits, and other such salvageable scrap around the empty towns.

Searching the waste-lands was a hard job, given the wild apex predators and questionable weather. It took a stout and sturdy heart to go in, and that was what Quartzite had.

She was a Diamond Dog of a notably great and robust musculature, with impressive dimensions which likely marked her as being a Dig Dog. But that was all the personal detail that could be gleaned. She went around in a shell of metal that protected her from the dangers of a world gone insane. She had forged the suit herself after the events of Paddock Fifty-One and the rise of the rebellion from the core of desperate refugees. She hammered together glowing brass and shining steel into a solid and weighty collection of articulated plates that gave her decent movement and could withstand most any force, mundane or magical.

The chest plate of her armored suit had been embellished with a plate of decorative gold and silver. She depicted the former symbol of Equestria, the dancing Princesses, combined with the mark of the rebels, the crossed hammer and sickle inside the compass of their dance. Around that was studded six different gemstones, to represent the Elements of Harmony. The bearers had fallen but the idea remained.

Representative of the rebellion, the hammer and sickle hung at her hips, ready to be taken up for battle. At her right hand's ease was the heavy brass hammer, with the broad crushing face and the spike-tipped peen. For her left, there was the wicked crescent curve of the steel sickle, the blade thick and the point tipped with a diamond, for harvesting more than plants.

Quartzite had been dispatched to a small town known previously as Gaskinwich. It was larger than Ponyville but not quite a city. The streets had some paved areas, the buildings more stone and there had been more use of both magic and electricity. Without a power plant or lightning infusion that mattered little, but it meant electronics would be more in evidence.

Her armored steps echoed eerily around the ghost town. Neglect and active destruction had left their marks, with fallen thatched roofs and gaping holes scarring the sides of buildings, and with the streets torn up. The decorative lantern poles had been ripped up and thrown around; the decorative wrought ironwork had been twisted and tossed aside like garbage. Any statues that had existed were reduced to piles of rubble by the unfeeling barbarians.

More depressingly, she found spots where captives or slaves had been murdered, either as an example to others or simply at the whim of the invaders. Rusty red-brown bloodstains marked the entrances to homes which contained flyblown skeletons, of all ages. Not even interred, just killed and tossed away. Quartzite made a mental note of locations for the gravediggers. All the fallen deserved the honor of a burial.

She also made mental notes of what she found. She couldn't very well carry away all the usable scrap she found. She was a preliminary scout, assessing the location for a full scavenger sweep, under guard. She was also there to note traces of dangerous animals, check for possible caribou activity and assess the state of any arable land.

The area had been swept through quickly, which was a positive. The caribou carried away spoils, which were usually defined as simple treasures. They broke everything else. There were electronic parts all over, still in fair condition. The machines in an arcade were demolished, but the components seemed in good order. Dog smiths could do great things with the bronze and iron that had been treated like scrap. She noted that though the cloth scraps were dirty they were present. The leavings of a demolished village would serve the rebellion well.

She scratched notes onto her left bracer, the expanse etched with Dog runes that expressed maximum information in minimum space. Metal types and estimated amounts, electronics, even estimated number of bodies for burial. There didn't seem to be a significant predator presence, which meant a simple scavenge team could sweep through and bear away all the useful objects. A restoration team could even take a chance on rebuilding for potential habitation.

A sound from somewhere in the distance caught Quartzite's attention. She whipped her armored gaze around, and used the high peaks of her ears to home in on the noise. It was at the town's edge, further on than she had explored.

She slid along the wrecked street, being as silent as she could manage in her suit of armor. It sounded likes hooves on the stone street, which only told her she wasn't dealing with a predator. There was still the possibility it was a scout from the Heartless One's army. The hammer and sickle were taken up, and set in proper position for immediate use.

She rounded a corner and gasped softly. A mare was awkwardly walking down the ruined street, looking weak and unsteady. She was an earth pony, with a brown coat and a darker brown mane. She was nude, as most were, and had her mark covered with burn scars. She stumbled along, looking exhausted, ready to collapse.

Quartzite immediately went to her aid, ringing and clattering as she ran up and quickly stopped the mare from falling. “Not worry! Are safe now,” she wurfed, her husky voice echoing slightly inside the armored helmet.

The mare's weak, trembling hand patted Quartzite on the back, her slim and unsteady fingers running up and down the plates of the armor. “Wh-who are you? I thank you for your help but... I need to know who you are...”

“Name is Quartzite, am rebel heavy scout. Here to find things to help rebels,” Quartzite said. “What happened?”

“M-my name is Verdant Glade... Viscountess Verdant Glade,” Verdant said with a sigh. “When the disaster happened... I was so scared. I saw horrors happening, and I hid away in my manor. I pretended it was empty, I kept out of sight. I was so weak...”

“Not weak,” Quartzite asserted with a shake of her armored head. “Careful. Want to live. Go on...”

“I had ample supplies of food, fresh water and other beverages and what I thought was a good place to hide,” Verdant said with a shudder. “It wasn't...”

“Tell what happen, when happen, need facts,” Quartzite said matter-of-factly.

“It was after the town... ended up like this. When they carried off the mares and most of the men went crazy. I didn't think they would be back. But they came back to see if they missed anything in my manor...” Verdant whispered.

“Know pattern. Some mares hide and escape. Some mares hide and are caught,” Quartzite rumbled.

“They dragged me out of hiding. But they... didn't take me away. They wanted to use my manor. They destroyed much but kept a lot. And they abused me. Look at my Cutie Mark!”

“Is way of stupid caribou,” Quartzite barked. “Hurt women, break things. Too stupid to live like normal creatures.”

“I've learned that lesson well,” Verdant said with a shudder.

“Now have escaped. Need go to rebels? Have doctors, have food, can help,” Quartzite said.

“Oh yes. I need to see the rebels. I need to find them and go among them. But before that, I have a request,” Verdant said softly.

Quartzite's armored ears twitching a little bit. “Please tell. Wish to help how can. Am strong Dog, good rebel.”

“I want to recover my manor from the one who holds it. He's a caribou. I don't know his name. He always forced me to just call him 'Master,'” Verdant pleaded. “There are things in there that might be helpful. And I think it would be a good thing to destroy him.”

Quartzite nodded enthusiastically, making her armor clatter and rattle. “Yes! Kill caribou, hurt Heartless Hind, and free victims. Is very good!”

“I must warn you...” Verdant said, slowly standing on her own hooves after stroking and patting Quartzite's back again. “It's more than that.”

“Tell, please,” Quartzite said. “Need all information. Can plan assault better.”

“He's not the only one there. There are some stallion soldiers, and other caribou,” Verdant explained. “And they put it some traps. I didn't see all of them but I managed to avoid the ones I set off when I escaped.”

“How escaped?” Quartzite asked. “Can use path out to get in maybe.”

“Master had been trusting me more,” Verdant said, “He thought I was perfectly obedient. When he was finished abusing me and didn't want me to serve him or anything like that he let me wander the grounds. He figured I was too broken down to do anything. He let the other soldiers have me, so they didn't think anything of me wandering around. I remembered a section of the wall was lower than the rest and I managed to get out of sight, climb up and escape. I just... I ran here, because I thought they would be following me when the figured out I escaped.”

“Might follow. Use standard hunting formation. Will come here because is good fallback position,” Quartzite said, turning her head to regard her surroundings. “May meet pursuers on road. Is direct path to manor?”

“Up the road, just two miles. I didn't even think about hiding my tracks, I...” Verdant began.

“There she is!” A male voice cried out from beyond the edge of town.

The owner of the voice was revealed to be a blue earth stallion, wearing cloth armor with metal scales and an open-faced metal helmet. He was flanked by two unicorns dressed in a similar fashion, though without the scales on their armor. All three carried spears and had manacles hanging from their belts.

“Get behind!” Quartzite shouted, pushing Verdant behind her bulky, armored body. She felt the trembling mare press up against her back, fingers seeming to caress the articulated plates as she sought their protection. “Halt! Leave place and never come back! In name of rebellion, just go away!”

“Look at that, some butchy cunt thinks she can order a man,” one of the unicorns, a dun-colored one, said.

“You rebels are just fooling yourselves. His pitiless and invincible majesty will defeat you all once his plans have been completed. You will all fall down at his hooves at once and see how powerless you are. You'll all surrender!” The other unicorn, a dark red one, confidently asserted.

“Throw down your weapons, give us the worthless whore and surrender to your natural betters!” The earth pony demanded.

“Have to do hard way...” Quartzite grumbled. “Always want to do hard way.” She turned around to see Verdant still desperately clinging to her armor. “Go, hide in house. Will finish them and come for you.”

“But... but...” Verdant looked at the three stallions and shuddered. “But they're killers. They know what they're doing.”

“Know this, too,” Quartzite said proudly, taking the hammer and sickle from her waist. “Go. Will find you again.”

“Promise?” Verdant asked, looking up hopefully, her blue eyes meeting the blue irises she could see in a sea of canary.

“Promise pretty pony,” Quartzite said in the softest tone she could muster. She then turned on the trio and crossed her weapons over her chest to form the rebel insignia. “Come! You want hard way? This way hard as diamond!”

The four figures stood there, still, sizing one another up. The three slavecatchers held their spears low and with both hands. Tossing them was too much of a risk. A miss rendered them helpless. Though Quartzite was armored there were still places where the armor plates were jointed which could allow the spears to slide into her flesh. They had medium length capability but nothing beyond or below that. She was short range only and had to survive long enough to get there.

The stalemate was finally broken by Quartzite, who released an unearthly howl and dashed straight for the trio. She looked ready to crash through the three speaks and hope her armor held.

The three spearponies dug in their hooves and set themselves, intending to have their spears beat her armor with the rigidity of their stance. They brought the spears to the same level and pulled them in slightly, concentrating on the area beneath the gold and silver insignia on Quartzite's chest.

Quartzite's armored footfalls rang out loudly as she pounded the broken cobblestone street, and the clanking of her armor plates added to the cacophony of her mighty howls. She carefully examined the arms of the three ponies as she ran, noting exactly how far they would reach when they stabbed forward, and just how ready they were to thrust up with them.

Several things happened at once, almost in slow motion. The trio judged the time right to give a mighty thrust, to meet the oncoming momentum with some of their own and add to the impact of the spears. Quartzite also judged the time right to throw her shoulder forward and toss herself down, tucking into a roll. The thrusting spearheads grazed her shoulder and rang loudly through the abandoned town.

Quartzite clattered loudly as she rolled over, going from her side to her back to her paws. Her arms had been held at her sides, the muscles tense and storing all the energy she could muster. They whipped forward as soon as she could muster the stability, the hammer in her right hand shattering one of the kneecaps of the unicorn on that side, the sickle in her left biting bone-deep into the thigh of the other.

Without hesitating a moment she gave a titanic bark of rage and effort and leaped up and forward. Her armored bulk, propelled with great force by her muscular legs, shoved up the spear in the shocked grip of the earth pony. Her momentum carried her helmeted head into contact with his chin, snapping his head back with a sharp and sickening 'crack.'

The end result of the charge and roll was the three stallions downed, the leader dead and the others gravely wounded. The one with the gashed thigh was already slipping away. He was gushing blood so badly it was obvious a major vessel had been sliced open. The one with the crushed knee was screaming and holding his injury, blubbering loudly while attempting to scoot away.

“No! Please no! No!” He cried out, watching Quartzite approach and the deadly weapons being lifted again.

“Many women beg for mercy,” Quartzite growled, her armored form and the echo of the concealing metal adding to the intimidation of the sound. “You not give mercy! You make rules! Only do what evil pony want done.”

“It wasn't my idea! It wasn't my doing! We were told! We were sent!” The stallion whined.

“Yes! Sent by caribou!” Quartzite barked.

“I have some treasures! I do! I promise! You can have them and the rebels don't need to know!” The stallion pleaded.

“Can give much? Anything?” Quartzite asked, slipping the weapons back into her belt.

The unicorn breathed a sigh of relief, looking much more relaxed though no less pained. “I have a lot of good stuff from the plundering. I can give you almost anything.”

Quartzite's armored hands were on his head in an instant, twisting it violently to the side against his objections. “Want old world back, bastard child of tatzlwurm!” With a single, hard wrench she snapped his neck and dropped his unmoving body to the ground.

Quartzite slowly rose up, panting heavily, fingers slowly flexing. She heard gentle hoofsteps behind her and the light sound of fingers on the plates of her back.

“You were magnificent,” Verdant whispered, running her digits over the scrapes on the brass and steel armor plates.

Quartzite stood up tall and proud, head as high as she could get it. “Pretty pony is too kind. Now, take to rebels and then go take manor...”

“No! No...” Verdant said, turning away with a sigh and the hanging of her head. “I... I want to see it. After all they did... I want to see it happen.”

“Yes, understand,” Quartzite said softly. “Anger in many women. Why they fight like starving cragodiles, make good warriors. Watching help women feel better. Will take and protect pretty pony, let watch evil caribou die.”

“Thank you...” Verdant whispered, taking up a position behind Quartzite, a few paces behind. “It's easy to find if you just go where I said.”

“Two miles, up road, low part of wall can get over,” Quartzite said with a nod.

“Right. You'll make some noise but... you can probably take care of that,” Verdant said softly.

“Fear nothing. Will storm manor, kill caribou, protect pretty pony,” Quartzite barked proudly before setting off.

The two-woman parade clanked along the ruined road, made tossed, muddy and cracked by the neglect and active destruction of the occupiers. Quartzite was marching boldly, taking long strides and leaning forward as though already facing an enemy. Verdant was behind, an arm's length back from Quartzite and occasionally having to run along to match the huge Dog's long strides.

The pair reached the manor in time, the first rise of the roof making Quartzite drop down and more slowly approach.

It was a small sort of manor. It had three floors and no wings, but the floors all looked suitably tall and wide. Part of the roof on the left side was caved in, weeds and ivy had grown over the grounds and the walls; algae chocked the broken fountain; most of the visible windows were cracked at best or broken at worst. The wall that ran around was in a state of disrepair, better or worse depending on which section was concerned, while the iron gates at the front were locked and chained shut, and also patrolled by two spear-wielding pegasus stallions.

“Not go in front,” Quartzite whispered to Verdant. “Could take ponies but would alert more. Come, show low part of wall.”

Verdant led Quartzite around the wall, keeping to the thickest of the surrounding bushes, leading her eventually to a part of the wall that looked to have suffered some collapse as well as sinking. It was a dip, and just enough to allow Quartzite to climb up and over. “Good, can use. But need make noise first.”

“'Noise'?” Verdant queried. “I would think that would be the opposite of what you need.”

Quartzite initially passed on comment, looking at the wall rubble and finally picking out a substantial stone. “Leader teach us, noise where are, always bad. Noise where are not, always good.”

“You mean a distraction?” Verdant asked.

“Yes! Own noise less noticed, if send guards off following first noise...” Quartzite drew her arm back gathering up all the natural strength she could muster and aiming near the front of the manor, yet also towards the opposite side of it from her.

Quartzite's arm launched forward like a torsion ballista, the huge stone propelled powerfully over the wall and out of sight, impacting with a powerful thud a good distance away.

“What was that? It sounded huge,” one of the guards called out, two sets of wingbeats audible and moving toward the location of the fallen stone.

“Cling to back, must do fast,” Quartzite insisted, offering the broad expanse of her armored back to Verdant.

Verdant hesitated a moment, fingers tracing the armor plates before she resolutely leaped onto the huge Dog and clung to the unmoving metal with all her might.

Quartzite bore the burden like it was nothing, grabbing the top of the dip after a small leap. She used her powerful muscles to yank herself up hard and draw her sturdy body over the top of the low portion of wall. She had no need for grace or fineness once she had crested the dip, throwing a leg over, turning to face the inner wall and letting herself drop down with a muted clatter of armor.

Verdant, who had been silent and still, slid off of Quartzite with a small tremble, breathing a bit raggedly. “That was... oh my... I had the distraction of adrenaline when I did it. I didn't have the luxury of thinking about how foolhardy that was...”

“Yes, not for ordinary folk. For trained ones,” Quartzite agreed, nodding her armored head slowly. “Where came out of manor? Will follow path to master. Kill first, then others. Chained gate mean cannot escape.”

“If you go further around the corner there is a window in the back that leads to a room they often saw me in,” Verdant said as they snuck along the side of the manor. “I was allowed to be in there because it was thought to be a dead-end. But I got the window open.”

“Clever mare. Know how escape, how survive. Would be good rebel,” Quartzite said, with a smile in her voice.

Verdant waved off the compliment, her hand gently brushing the plates of Quartzite's back again. “I'm not that great. Not compared to a woman like you. If only this hadn't happened. The fall, the capture, all of it. Things could have been different.”

“Can be different,” Quartzite said matter-of-factly. “Will be different. Leader sees world, like old world. Back to way world was. Will have peace, will have love.”

“I like peace and love,” Verdant said, pressing her fingers a little more firmly against Quartzite's back.

“Shh, time for quiet,” Quartzite suddenly said. She had spotted the open window, and dropped her posture even more, doing everything she could to properly conceal her armored bulk as she worked her way along toward the opening.

A peek inside showed some measure of good fortune. No guards had been stationed within, and the door leading into the manor proper remained open. The room itself looked like a very small drawing room, though largely bare save for a pile of torn cushions that could serve as a makeshift bed, and a few wooden skeletons that had once been fancy furnishings. The parquet floor was torn up, and the walls were heavily damaged, both the wooden lower portion and the plaster above that.

“Sorry for manor. Caribou and minions too stupid to leave beauty,” Quartzite mumbled as she pulled herself up and over, through the window to land with a dull clatter and scrape of armor.

“Objects can be fixed. Other things...” Verdant let the statement hang heavy in the following silence, as she daintily pulled herself up through the window and into the room, once more pressing herself against Quartzite's armored back.

“Understand. Now more quiet. Not want to kill unless must...” Quartzite drew her hammer and sickle, shuffling her way slowly along the floor, rather than risking the ringing of her brass and steel sabatons on the hard floors. She could see that beyond the parquet of the drawing room the floors of the main house were stone: dressed, quality marble.

“He has staked out the highest point. The attic over the third floor. I tried to tell him that wasn't an actual habitable space, but he... he beat me for speaking out of turn and said it sufficed for a caribou,” Verdant whispered, pressed tight and close to Quartzite's back and shuffling her own hooves in time with the Dog's shuffles.

“Live in smallness, squalor, ugliness,” Quartzite whispered back. “Like traitor Dogs. Ugly things live ugly life.”

There were no sounds of motion, which would have been instantly apparent, which was curious. Verdant had said that there were guards and traps. Likely the guards had been dispatched to hunt down Verdant, and the traps would be silent until sprung. Quartzite kept an eye out for pressure plates, tripwires, pit openings and other such things, the extent of caribou technological advancement.

The whole time Quartzite moved, in agonizingly slow shuffles, Verdant was there with her, pressed against her back, stroking the articulations in the armor and whispering encouraging things. Quartzite's sensitive ears picked up simple flattery, but also warm statements of thanks, and promises of some for of personal reward when all was said and done.

Ascending the stairs proved to be slightly easier, as a torn carpet still ran down the center, and helped muffle the footfalls. Also in the realm of 'lucky breaks' was that the stairs to the third floor were beside the stairs from the first, meaning they did not need to stop on their way up.

“Attics stairs are where?” Quartzite asked, as she made her way to the stairs to the third floor.

“At the far end of the corridor to the left when we arrive at the third floor,” Verdant answered.

“Are loud when pull down?” Quartzite queried.

“No need to worry. He keeps them down at all times,” Verdant said.

“Fool. Good. Fools die faster,” Quartzite mumbled, cresting the stairs and turning her head, checking both sides. There was little to the upper story, mostly just the landing, and three corridors. Straight, left and right. The rest of the place was a collection of doors. As said, there was a rough wooden staircase at the far left, leading up into the ceiling.

“The rooms are empty now, they ripped them up and use them for living quarters. But anyone not on patrol is probably still looking for me,” Verdant whispered.

“Then can take evil caribou down quick,” Quartzite said firmly, taking long, slow strides along the corridor. The center was still carpeted, though the carpet was stained with all manner of things and rather ripped up.

The stairs up to the attic presented a unique challenge, being made of wood and lacking any muffling at all. Careful steps minimized the noise of the travel, each step being taken in turn, with the slowest and most careful motions. “I never thought such a powerful creature could move so softly...” Verdant whispered, practically clinging to Quartzite's back again.

“Am not fool. Trained by leader so am strong, but tricky. Leader says tricky most important, make hard to fight against. Rebels very tricky,” Quartzite breathed, just barely audible as she reached the top. She poked her head up, to see what she could.

Like any other attic, it was dusty, and gloomy. But daylight streamed through the small, high windows set into the place, shining on fallen piles of antiques and broken bits. Despite the chaos there was still a wide path through the middle of it, which led to a bedroll, a window, and the caribou who had misappropriated the manor.

He was another northman cipher, an identical and dull thing of tan fur and a rack of antlers. He wore the standard suit of cloth armor sewn with scales of metal, though they looked to be Equestrian or Dog-forged metal, rather than the brittle mess the northmen themselves made. His back was to the entrance, which revealed the sword strapped to his back, a titanic, two-handed thing that looked like a mass of nicks and chips, a more genuine example of the forging of the northmen.

Quartzite decided the time for subtlety was done. She pushed down hard on the stairs and leaped up, landing with a heavy, armor-rattling thud on the attic floor, drawing the attention of the caribou. He seemed less than surprised. “So... a Dog. But not one of ours. You wear blasphemy against our pitiless majesty. You must be a rebel.”

“You not own place!” Quartzite barked, her powerful voice ringing around the attic. “Take from owner! Are thief and monster! Will die for crimes against nation-state!”

“Your precious nation-state died first!” The caribou hissed, pulling the sword off of his back and showing the ease with which he worked the great weapon. “Your leaders are gone. No one buys this idea of an unbroken line. It doesn't matter that they still claim The Silent Voivode is in the royal line, your leaders surrendered!”

“Did not have right!” Quartzite cried out. “They surrendered. Did not surrender nation. Only passed ruling. Legitimate government stands! Now stands with Silent Voivode, who writes to rebel leader!”

“Yes, the rebel leader. The Phantom. I don't believe such a creature exists. It's impossible,” the caribou grumbled.

“Yes, is impossible. Leader do impossible things before get out of bed,” Quartzite said with an amused tone. “But is not important. Time you die. Then can kill others.”

“You won't find me that easy to kill, you stupid cunt!” The caribou dropped into a fighting stance, one hand high on the grip, the other on an edgeless part low on the sword blade. “I am a caribou solider! Tough, skilled, and male. You are a lowly cunt, my natural inferior. It shames me to even fight you because you are so unworthy.”

“Come, test blade on armor! See how 'inferior' bitch is,” Quartzite growled, thumping a meaty, armored hand on her chest, below the insignia. “Forged this armor, stood and panted over glowing forge for days, made strong, invincible!”

The caribou held his position, sizing up Quartzite. “Fast weapons and slow armor. How stupid. You think that one will offset the other. But you are wrong! I will teach you how wrong. I wish I could torture you properly but your death will have to be as instructive as all that.”

“Stay back, is time for fight,” Quartzite barked at Verdant, carefully directing her to the side.

“Don't worry, just win, for me,” Verdant said dreamily, scurrying off to the side, amongst a pile of small boxes.

“My slave seems to have chosen a new master. She will pay for her treachery,” the caribou snorted.

“Am not master or mistress or other! Am heavy scout for rebellion, is only thing,” Quartzite said, taking a step forward and brandishing her weapons threateningly.

“You don't even know how to use power!” The caribou shoulder, sweeping and stabbing the blade a few times, in demonstration of his technique. “You use force and control to get all you desire, you don't just let folks be free!”

“Must be free, make world stable. Unstable world terrible, hurt old and young, feed selfish slime and suck life from victims,” Quartzite countered, not taking the bait and just holding her weapons still after her threat display.

“More of that worthless drivel from the pathetic cunts you follow. You just don't understand being a master! But how could you? You're female, a stupid womb with legs and a mouth that needs to be punched until it shuts up,” the caribou coldly said, moving his hand from the blade to join the other on the grip.

“Come, shut up bitch. Come, dare stupid caribou,” Quartzite snarled, beckoning with her sickle.

The caribou spat towards Quartzite, his face falling into an annoyed scowl. “This delay of clever talking is so feminine and useless! How do females stand living like this?” He charged down the center of the attic, sword held low and ready for an upward sweep.

Quartzite didn't comment. She dashed forward in her juggernaut fashion, armor clattering loudly in the enclosed space of the attic. Her hammer swung out and down, to catch any upthrust while she cut across at chest level with her sickle.

The caribou had feigned his attack, the sword sweeping in directly from the side. The attacks interacted, the hammer blow taking away some force from the strike, though the sword still rang loudly against Quartzite's side, while the distraction of the sword strike and the off-balancing made the sickle's diamond tip just scrape against the caribou's chest.

The two-handed sword came up in a quick defensive motion as the caribou stepped out of the close range of hammer and sickle. “Your quick weapons don't make up for the slow armor. You'll get fatigued faster. I'll win when you falter. And you will because you're a woman.”

“Bones are steel so still can feel, but mind has shield of diamond,” Quartzite said, backing just out of effective strike range, and chancing a glance back at Verdant. She was watching intently, while her hands dug through one of the boxes.

The momentary distraction allowed the caribou a chance to sweep into a huge slice, which Quartzite only barely managed to avoid with a very uncharacteristic backwards stumble-hop. She twisted awkwardly aside as a second sweep swept up, grazing her armor on her shoulder, and had a chance to organize a parry with her hammer when the caribou drew back and stabbed at her.

Quartzite continued to stumble back, losing round by inches as she looked for the opening in the surprisingly quick assault. Two-handed weapons often had the disadvantage of being sluggish, but with proper training and enough strength the great mass could be put into motion and whipped around with lightning speed. But like the spear, the reach of a two-handed weapon was effectively medium, being exceptionally poor at close range.

She pushed forward when the caribou pulled back to try and other sweeping strike. She forced her armored form against his front, momentarily pinning his sword between them. He had to stagger further back to free his hands and take a swing. The arc was small and the force was poor, the chipped blade ringing off Quartzite's armor, though ringing loudly and leaving a small dent and nick.

They pushed and pulled, wavering in the middle of the room as they fought for their ideal positions. Medium-range sword strikes competed against close-range swings from the deadly sickle and the threatening hammer. Her armored form would resist blow of the sword but made her a large target, and if he mustered the right force he could deliver severe pain, and damage to the armor, enough to make her vulnerable to a thrust into the articulation.

Quartzite could read the action with some degree of care. He was trying to wind up an overhead chop. If he connected and severely dented her helmet or crushed an ear the pain and distraction would sway things to his advantage. She tried to push her advantage but he staggered back far enough to bring the sword high. Her hands were in just the right spot to turn the move to her advantage. The right thrust with her hammer would stop the chop and she could follow through with her sickle to gut him. She dropped to one knee as the sword came down, thrust up the hammer... and paused.

She was not formally trained in magic detection. Her capabilities with mana-reading were low, but present, as with most dogs. She left that to professional scientists and enchanters. But she still claimed some capability. She was just good enough to read a mana trace, like friction against her armor. She couldn't quite feel through it, but she knew the slight distortion of a living being through the brass and steel. It made her fur stand up a little. Especially with a familiar trace. Like the hands that had been on her back all day, feeling over the articulated plates, feeling over her spine, and ribs.

She couldn't hesitate. If she was wrong it would be a tragedy; if she was right but did nothing it would be fatal. She needed to live, to at least deliver her data. So as the sword bounced slightly off of her hammer, having taken a sharp bite into the brass surface, she twisted to the side and lashed back with her sickle, at the neck level of a mare.

A thin stiletto blade rasped sharply along a plate of her armor, the twist denying it swift entry into an articulation and her vulnerable body. The sickle found brief resistance as the leading diamond point pierced Verdant's throat and the rest slid smoothly through, with scalpel-like precision.

The stiletto tumbled from Verdant's hand, as her eyes grew huge and disbelieving. She gurgled out a few soft questions, as the crimson stain at her throat grew. Blood spluttered from her lips as she fought to breathe, eventually falling backwards, clutching her throat and spasming wildly as blood pooled around her.

Quartzite turned on the caribou and launched herself forward into his body, her momentum knocking the wind out of him. She bulled him along until she practically crushed him against the fall wall, demolishing the flimsy table that had been there using his body.

The caribou coughed and struggled for breath as he slid down to his knees. He released the sword, which Quartzite threw to the over side of the room. He recovered just in time to find the diamond point of the sickle under his chin.

“Traitor! Was red-throat traitor to nation. Leader says, they want wear red at throat, we oblige,” Quartzite snarled, her hammer hand held up high.

“She used to be like she seemed,” the caribou gasped out, still not quite recovered from the huge charge. “A filthy dyke who believed that women had some kind of right to be alive. When we found her hiding we beat it out of her.”

Quartzite turned to briefly regard Verdant, who had stopped twitching in her puddle of blood. “Once was... could have been. If life were same, if old world lived...” She suddenly released a collection of howls, yaps, and noises both above and below the caribou's hearing range, in a quick, short burst.

“What was that? You sound like our Dog collaborators when they talk together,” the caribou noted.

“Is expression in Dog lands. Mean, 'Like magic diamond of two-fist in size in situ, found by one Dog, shattering at last scrape of Dog's own claws when would have tumbled out to paws.' Literally,” Quartzite said. “But is not supposed to be literal. Mean... fate take away beautiful thing by accident, and Dog was responsible. Doing on purpose, but doing on purpose to do normal thing, when fate say that action will make bad thing happen.”

The caribou spat disdainfully and ground his teeth as the diamond spike pushed under his chin. “No matter... you ruined this! Ruined a perfect opportunity to destroy you rebel scum!”

“Use beaten pony to bring rebels to you? Not good; I kill three guards,” Quartzite said smugly.

“They were supposed to be outmaneuvered, not fought. You rebel types are supposed to be all about sneaking. I guess that was a flaw that could have been fixed,” the caribou grumbled.

“How many have killed before?” Quartzite asked.

“You would have been the first,” the caribou said. “You spoiled it. There could have been so many of you, dead. So many innocent lives taken for the glory of our pitiless majesty, The Dead One.”

“No,” Quartzite said sternly, hammer-wielding hand trembling as she prepared to bring it down. “Will stop death of innocent at...”

“One...” the caribou said scornfully, looking past Quartzite to the body of Verdant, well aware of the sort of worthless, feminine 'emotions' which were embraced by the pathetic rebels.

The hammer came down with a furious strength, and a subtle whistle. The last thing the caribou heard was Quartzite's guttural, yet regretful intonation of the word, “Zero,” before the hammer crashed into his skull, driving his shattered head down onto the point of the sickle and stealing away his ability to hear the agonized sobs that wracked Quartzite a moment later.