The Great and Magnificent Seven

by Lapis-Lazuli and Stitch

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Flim and Flam, Lightning Dust, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Diamond Dogs, Trixie, Gilda
Length: 17096

In the far south of Equestria, beyond the reach of Princess Celestia's law, seven creatures will come together for a simple job... that will become a legend.

Lapis-Lazuli Proudly Presents...
In the far southern regions of Equestria, where the rule of the Sun Princess runs thin...
There is a town under siege, held in the iron grip of a tyrant.

Poor, desperate, and defenseless, the citizens turn to a band of unlikely heroes.
They come from all walks of life, each seeking something, each running from something.

And in this little town, far from the eyes of the great and powerful, these seven outcasts will come together for a job that will change their lives forever.

Based on John Sturges' "The Magnificent Seven" and Akira Kurosawa's "The Seven Samurai"
With thanks to TheGreekOwl for his cover art.

Published 2014-10-19 20:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-11-02 20:57:20 UTC

Once Upon a Time in the Badlands...

~~~~~The town of Last Rest~~~~

“Another.”

The barkeep quirked a brow at the unicorn, but didn’t argue the point. He simply pulled another bottle of the hard cider out of the chiller and popped the cap. “You waitin’ for somepony?” He drawled, trying to draw the familiar face into conversation for the third time today.

Bloody Celestia, he isn’t going to leave me alone until I say something, she grumbled mentally. So, she tipped up her hat and half-glared at him. “Trixie heard there was somepony looking to hire a capable unicorn for a bandit problem, and came here to wait for them to arrive. They always end up here, after all.” She grabbed the cider bottle, scowling slightly at the ‘Sweet Apple Acres’ label, and took a slow sip. She wanted to make this one last.

The barkeep nodded and turned back to polishing his glasses. They always did end up here, especially if they were as a desperate as she’d heard. Another sip of the sweet and bitter cider went down as cold as defeat. It was a taste she was all too familiar with, but her luck was changing. Even the long hoof of the Princess’ law wouldn’t follow her down here, far from the pristine civilization of Equestria. Far from ‘Princess’ Twilight Sparkle, and all of the bitter reminders that pony’s memory brought to her.

No. No one was going to come looking for her in Last Rest. Beyond the edge of the Everfree Forest, far past the almost civilization of Appleloosa and Dodge Junction, the little town of Last Rest served as the final stopping point for the Equestrian Rail system. Here, literally at the end of the line, she toiled in silence. No more cart. No more showpony. Just a unicorn looking for work to keep herself afloat until she could figure out what to do next.

Which wasn’t to say she was poor or desperate. She’d actually done quite well for herself out here. Not many unicorns ventured this far south, far from the cosmopolitan cities they favored and every one was valued for whatever talents they might have. “Mornin, Miss Trixie!” A bright and chipper voice startled her out of her thoughts and nearly spilled her cider. A dusty, strawberry-blonde earth pony settled down to the bar next to her with a long braid of blonde mane and a huge grin. “Knew I’d find ya here. Momma want’d me t’ thank you fer yer help with them water sluices.”

“Trixie was glad to help.” She responded with the utmost civility. Desert Rose was one of many earth ponies who knew where to find her when there was work that needed to be done. Earth Ponies could be very clever when it came to construction, but sometimes even they were forced to muddle through when it came to complex jobs like putting in an irrigation system. And to think I’d sworn I would never use all that nonsense I studied in that civil engineering course I took. She thought ruefully, taking another sip of her cider. “They’re working as Trixie intended then?” It was always good to appear concerned about the quality of your work. It developed a good reputation.

“Eeyup. Workin’ jes’ fine. Momma says we’ll be able t’ keep the bushes goin’ even if the rains’re late this year.” Desert Rose grinned cheekily, and smacked her hoof on the bar. Moments later, a hot breakfast of eggs, grits, fried apples and a pile of griddled oatpatties slipped in front of her alongside a tall, cold glass of beer and she beamed. “Thankee kindly, Hot Shot. Almost like ya’ll knew I was comin.”

The barkeep nodded in silence, but he did smile faintly. Hot Shot was sweet on Rose, and everypony in town knew it except for Rose. “So what’re y’all doin’ t’day Miss Trixie? We’ve got some collectin’ work t’do that could use an extra hoof if’n yer not busy.” Rose managed to get out her words past the breakfast she was downing with an impressive gusto.

Trixie normally wouldn’t mind such work. It was easy enough, and the rose gardens of her family’s fame were a sight to behold at this time of year. They also smelled gorgeous, even over the fertilizer they used to keep the bushes blooming. But today, she had a bigger job she needed to get. “Trixie is thankful, but is waiting on a prospective client.” She sipped her cider again, and glanced at the door. They’d come. They always did, when there was trouble.

Here, far from the reach of Celestia’s royal guards, the law might as well not have existed. Disagreements were handled by a local sheriff or with a duel. The land was hard, and the ponies and other creatures that lived here were harder. But there was always someone trying to bend their will upon others, and there was always a need for someone with the guts to stand up and do something about it.

The door to the bar creeked timidly, and instantly Trixie knew it had to be her mark. She turned with the bottle almost to her lips to get a feel for her new employer, and was instantly struck by surprise. She was a pretty young pegasus, with a dark brown coat and a mane of bright red that looked more than a little tousled. She had dark rings around pretty green eyes and a certain hollowness to her otherwise well muscled body. Her feathers were much ruffled and she looked… worried. “Is… is this the Silver Bit bar?” She asked with a lilt in her voice that screamed ‘Apple Family descendant.’

The barkeep nodded, and the poor filly practically collapsed on the floor. “Oh thank Celestia,” she whispered in fervent prayer, and seconds later Desert Rose was helping her back to her hooves. Rose carefully guided the filly to one of the chairs in the bar, sitting her down and glaring at the Barkeep until a mug of clean ice water was produced, which she slowly sipped at. “I was told there was a unicorn here… somepony who knows how to handle trouble.” The pegasi insisted weakly, even as Rose fussed.

Trixie took one more pull of her cider and tossed four bits onto the bar before dismounting her stool. “I am she,” Trixie said with a quiet dignity and strode across the rough wooden planks, keeping her head. The old moniker she’d used with reckless abandon now felt like a sick joke to her, a reminder of how her pride had hurt so many. But it still served a useful purpose, and so she did not correct the filly. “What can Trixie do for you?”

The mare looked up, and her eyes lit up like hearths-warming sparklights. “Oh, thank Celestia!” She breathed out as all of the tension drained out of her and she went slack against the chair… and then her hooves shot out to grab Trixie’s own. “I thought I’d never find you in time. We’ve already lost so much, we can’t take another season of it.” Her words were coming quicker with every moment that passed, and Trixie could feel her hoof being faintly crushed under her grip.

“Slow down, sugah.” Rose cooed softly, urging the pegasus to take another drink of the water. “Start at the beginnin’. Where’d y’all come from an’ what’s th’ trouble?” Desert Rose was a softie, but she was also as practical as anypony Trixie had ever met. Which is probably why she put you to work as opposed to throwing you off her property, Trixie. She thought wryly.

Fortunately, the pegasus mare was easily soothed. “My name is…” she coughed once, taking a breath before continuing. “My name is Blossomtime. I’m from a little village about halfway between here and the Saddle Arabian border. You’ve probably never heard of it, It’s called..”

“Rosedale. Trixie knows.” Trixie cut through shortly. Rosedale was the last truly Equestrian settlement in the Badlands, and as far south as one got before things became a complete desert. It was easily as far from Canterlot as somepony could get and still be technically in Equestria. “That is a very long way to travel. What brings you this far north?”

Blossomtime shook her head faintly. “Our town is under siege by a band of changeling bandits,” she gulped out, her eyes wide with fear. Not that Trixie was surprised, being attacked by changelings had a habit of making one paranoid. “We have tried to send word to Canterlot, but every messenger we sent never returned. My father sent me with a load of our flowers for sale, and bid me to use the money to return with aid…”

“Enough,” Trixie cut her short. Changelings. Ugh. That was the absolute last thing she needed to be dealing with. Bloody changelings. So much for a simple bandit job, those she could handle all by herself without trouble. Just conjure up a few big illusions and send the bastards running. Changelings though, they didn’t give up so easily, and scaring them took a lot more than a few well placed illusions.

Still… Bits were bits, and she might be able to parlay this into something more than bits if she played her cards right. Some risks are worth taking, Trixie. “Very well. But Trixie will not be able to do the job alone,” she cautioned, keeping her eyes narrow and holding up her hoof to forestall the pegasus. “Trixie shall need to gather allies for this mission. Leave the coin with Trixie, and she shall see it done.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you so much!” Blossomtime embraced her fiercely, and Trixie awkwardly patted her back. Now, what suckers could she rope into helping her with this…?

~~~~~~~~~

The soft chug-chug sound of the train’s engine reminded him of the Cider Squeezy. Now that had been a mechanical marvel fit to beat the band! We got arrogant with that one, he thought with a sigh, as the clink of bits punctuated the train’s turning wheels. Should have taken the money by selling it to those Apples and running with it before the thing broke down. Ugh.

And now it was gone, like so many other projects. Poof. Seized by the government as a ‘danger to the populace.’ At least their last scheme had made them some money before they’d gotten run out of town. Again.

“Two hundred and eighty two, my most esteemed brother.” His brother sighed, dropping the last shimmering bit onto the stack, glaring at it morosely. “Unless we tap the contingency fund, then we’d have a thousand more. But that’s only enough to get us back to-” He bit off the word, not wanting to say it. Flam had to agree with the sentiment. The idea of dragging themselves back home as failures was nausea-inducing.

“We are never going back to Ponyville, anyway,” Flim grumbled quietly, and Flam had to silently agree with that one, too. Who’d have thought? A town full of rubes ruled over by savvy operators instead of the other way around. Flam never thought he’d see the day, but there it was. Still, the trip hadn’t been a complete loss. Just most of one.

“Well then we’d best think of our next scheme quickly, Brother. And on a budget to boot.” He sighed dramatically, hoping to rile his brother up a little. “It’s not as though we didn’t start with a mere fifty bits back in our salad days. Nor that we have gained many a skill in the arts of alchemy and mechanics and-” He was cut off by a pillow to the face and a snort of laughter.

Pushing the pillow aside, he grinned. “In all seriousness, Flim. We’ve been down deeper holes before. Have a little faith, dear brother.” Flim still looked a little grouchy, so Flam gave his shoulder a smack, grinning. “Besides, Last Rest is up ahead. We’ve never lacked for business there, even if it’s mostly been the legitimate and low-paying kind.”

That was the first thing to snap Flim out of his grouchiness all day. His expression turned thoughtful as he gave a soft hum. “I suppose doing some legitimate business would be a good way to get back to money-making,” he mused, rubbing at his chin. “Maybe we can go back to work on that chemical fertilizer we’ve been sitting on for a while. Celestia knows it could finally give us a profit base to work the rest of our ideas on.”

Flam made an ‘ick’ face, but nodded anyway. He hated working on his brother’s silly chemistry projects, but there was no doubt they’d produced reliable profits. “Oh come on, Flammy,” Flim huffed, his lips twitching up in a smile, “you know I’m right. Remember that changeling repellant we sold to the entire city of Manehatten?”

Flam laughed, raising his hooves. “Oh, I know! I know. It’s not as though it didn’t work either!” He snickered. “It was just a little too effective at keeping out bugs…” He made another ick face and shook his head. “Darned florists giving us a problem because it was driving off bees. And how were we supposed to know that manticore saliva was illegal to purchase and distribute without a licence?” That conjured a bright laugh out of Flim, which he joined in on with a hearty guffaw of his own.

And it was in such a moment of laughter that inspiration struck. “Say, now there’s an idea!” Flam smacked the seat with a grin. “We can take that old formula of yours and add it to the fertilizer! Nopony down here gives two bucks about chemical legalities, they just care about keeping their desert crops as high-producing and low-waste as possible!” Flam felt his mind kicking back into motion for the first time in ages, the gears already turning. “We’ll have to tweak the formula a bit for the bees, but still…”

Across the aisle, his brother’s eyes were brightening as his mad chemist’s brain began to bubble up and go to work in its own inimitable fashion. “Yes… That could very well work! Doho!” He clapped his hooves excitedly, practically bouncing. “We can pick up what we need from Old Pricklefruit. This could be the beginning of something big, Flam!”

“Oh, yes indeedy, Flimmy.” He could feel the subtle buzz of excitement running through him, the electric thrill of embarking upon a new scheme. But still… “We’re going to need somepony to help us work the crowd, though. Somepony who isn’t going to ask too many questions...” He rubbed at his chin. That might be difficult. Where could they find somepony that was both charismatic and exceptionally thick?

~~~~~~~

“Fifty.”

“Call.”

“Full House.”

“Ffffffff-”

Lightning Dust shook her head with an amused grin, scraping the board clean of the markers they were using. “Seriously, G. You gotta learn when to let a hoof go.” She chuckled happily and expertly stacked up the chits. It took only a moment’s counting to see she had more than enough to big-stack G out of the game. “Looks like I get light duty tonight,” she remarked with a smirk. G might be absolute crap at Omareha, but she was pretty spectacular at any game that required strategy like Chess or backgammon.

G, or rather, Gilda, sighed and grumbled. “Seriously lame. Where the buck did you learn to play cards?” She glared at Lightning Dust with those hawk-like eyes, just long enough to be a trifle intimidating before shuffling the cards together and tucking the worn squares into the holding case and a wry grin.

“Third Air Wing, actually,” she deadpanned, and Gilda winced away. Lightning let her feel guilty for all of twenty seconds before shrugging and socking Gilda’s shoulder. “Relax, G. I left that job myself. There was nothing left for me there, and I knew I’d never make it into First Wing without a commission I wasn’t gonna get.” Gilda relaxed a bit, and Dust laughed faintly. “You’re such a sap, G.”

GIlda smacked her shoulder back. “Shaddap, Dusty.” She snorted in laughter and shoved herself up. “Right, I’mma get the firewood then.” And off she went a moment later, without so much as another word. Gilda hated sappy stuff more than just about everything, including hard work. Not that Lightning Dust could much blame her after everything she’d been through. Lightning herself dusted off her hooves and decided it was time to get the camp ready for the night.

Water was easy for a pegasus, even in the badlands. She grabbed a stray wisp of cloud and dragged it down to the ground, stuffing the fluffy white thing in an old tin bucket and pounded away at it with her hooves. It would take a few minutes to beat the water vapor into something thick enough to fill up the bucket, but this was such kids-stuff weatherwork that she could do it without thinking about it. That gave her time to watch Gilda diving out amidst the driftweeds and rolling hills, and wonder how the buck the pair of them had ended up out here.

Well, geez LD. Shall we recap? You pissed off your commanding officer enough to lose your cushy military job. Then you pissed off the commander of the Wonderbolts by virtue of pissing off the first pegasus in centuries to do the Sonic Rainboom. Oh yeah, and then you pissed off your boss at the Weather Control Board because you couldn’t keep your fat flank from showing off.

Yeah, there had been a long string of pissing ponies off involved in her being here. But Gilda? That one she still couldn’t figure. She wasn’t lazy or stupid. She wasn’t out here because she didn’t have any other skills or because she was poor. She was… well, Lightning didn’t know why she was out here. She only knew she’d been looking for a partner to go into the contract weather business with, and that had been that. The rest…

Gilda dropped off a talon load of sticks and wood-bits before dashing off again, and Lightning Dust felt the telltale squish of the cloud under her hoof. Water thus taken care of, she pitched the lean-to’s and began to pile the wood up for the fire. They didn’t really need one per se, but it was faster and easier to bunk on the ground when they weren’t on contract. She’s been awfully cagey about why she came out here. Even when she’s been drunk, she doesn’t talk about it.

If Lightning had been a suspicious pony, she might’ve thought Gilda was running from something… or maybe somepony. But more likely she was running away from the same thing Lightning Dust was. Memories. Don’t you dare bucking start, LD. Don’t you DARE. She winced away from those thoughts and focused on her work. Instant soup mix into the pot, water standing by, vegetables roughly broken up and tossed atop the soup mix. All they’d need now was a fire, and that was Gilda’s job.

The griffon landed a few moments later and piled the sticks and wood bits within easy reach and went to work with her field flint and steel. “So what’s this place we’re goin’ next? Someplace called Last Rest?” Gilda’s tone was purely casual, but her body language screamed ‘change the subject fast.’

“Yeah,” Lightning began, propping her butt on her pillow and crossing her forehooves over her legs. “Surprised you don’t know it. It’s the last stop on the Friendship Express. They’ve got their big growing season coming up, and the rains can be kinda sketchy in this part of the world. Figure we can pick up some amenities and work at the same time.” That was the big downside out here - finding hoof-made goods that weren’t made by some family’s lone crafter son was a pain in the patoot. The son might be perfectly good at making stuff, but nothing beat real Manehatten craftsponies.

Gilda grunted noncommittally at first, but hummed as the sparks began to take hold of her tinder. “Not a bad idea. We’ve been running short on coin.” The fire slowly took, fed by Gilda’s ministrations. “Better have a plan B, though. Never know who might steal our work.” Gilda huffed out a breath and watched the fire, almost a little too carefully.

Lightning Dust nodded, waiting for the pot to heat up before pouring in the water and settling back on her cushion to wait. “Hm. Well, Hot Shot might have work for us,” she mused, staring off into the distance, wishing there wasn’t so much quiet time out here. Gilda was usually pretty good for doing stuff, but there was always time between dinner and sleep that neither one of them generally felt like talking.

Too many memories, maybe.

“Wonder who else’ll be in town?” She muttered softly, and with only silence to answer her, decided to just watch the sun set.

~~~~~~~

Darkness had already fallen over Last Rest by the time they got into town, which meant they’d have to wait until tomorrow to check the work boards. “Rrrf,” he snorted in frustration, and glaring at the darkening sky overhead. “Stupid sun.” It wasn’t generally the kind of thought he wanted to voice in a pony town, but no one was around to hear him anyway, except for the stupid dragon.

Well. Maybe not stupid. Just annoying. “Chill,” Garble growled out with a rasp in his voice that made his eye twitch. “We’ll just check in the morning, Doggie-o.” The dragon’s grin set his companion’s teeth on edge, all sharp fangs and a frightening lack of respect for what they could do.

“Hrmf. Rover will see you then.” He turned and quickly padded away from the annoying dragon. The last thing he needed tonight was to deal with anymore trouble the teenager would inevitably attract. Likely he’d have to go bail him out in the morning, but such was the price of doing business with a dragon.

“Uh…” For just an instant, uncertainty raced across the dragon’s face, until he finally raised a claw in a wave. “Yeah, I’ll uh… See you in the morning then, partner!” And off he ran, not wanting to show his hesitation. Obviously.

Someponies thought diamond dogs were slow, or stupid. Someponies thought they couldn’t think with more than two gems in front of them or make a plan more complex than ‘get more wealth’ or ‘produce more goods.’ And someponies ended up working the rest of their lives in the central diamond mines, vanished into the earth, never to be seen again. Not that Rover personally approved of such practices, but it wasn’t personal. Business was business after all, and when your competition would stop at nothing to out produce you, you had to do the same.

Of course, no one ever talked about what happened when the Pony Goddess took notice of your operation, like when you kidnapped one of her personal attendants. It wasn’t the kind of thing that went unnoticed… or unpunished. And now, here he was, far from his mines, far from the place where he ought to be, searching for what had happened to the only dogs in the world he called ‘brothers.’

They were gone somewhere now, cast to the far flung reaches of the world by the Pony Goddess and her near limitless power. Rover was no fool, he knew the odds of ever finding them were slim. But that did not mean he could not stop looking for them, no matter how much he wished he could grieve and move on. It would take a life debt to make him stop his search now. The Pony Goddess might not have known it, but there were bonds of blood and bone to be considered in a thing like this. Oaths that had to be upheld to the fullest.

Promises kept.

He waited until he was well outside the town limits to dig. Rover sighed silently, and pushed his paws into the soft earth beneath them, pushing it aside and repeating the motion over and over again. It was a familiar action that belied a distinct unease. Dogs were not meant to dig alone, and it showed in how loose the dirt was getting from his flailings. He grunted and put more effort into his work, packing, pushing, spreading, repacking, repeating. Over and over and over again, until he’d reached the tunnel he’d made weeks ago.

Then he dove through the dirt, swimming amongst the cool earth of the world. Down here, where the sun did not see, there was no beating heat or scorched greenery. The world down beneath the surface smelled of rich moisture and something new around every twist and turn. It felt like home, even though the hollow feeling in his chest told him that it wasn’t. Truth was, he’d probably never see his home again.

But the cave he’d found would do for now. It was much cooler than the surface world was, and the air was thick with the rich smell of untouched gemstones. His paws itched to go digging for them, but right now he needed rest. Sleep. Tomorrow would be another day of work and toil, that he might save up the so-called ‘bits’ to buy his next train ticket.

Somepony had tried to convince him once that gems were equally valuable, but that was nonsense. Gems weren’t proper currency, and every diamond dog knew it. Metal was true wealth of the world. Gold, iron, copper, silver, steel. Gems were good for nothing but tools and the alchemy needed to extract those metals from the deep earth. Stupid ponies.

His paws found the soft patch of dirt he’d come to prefer, and he did a quick spin before settling down upon it. “Good night, Fido. Good night, Spot,” he grumbled into the dim silence, and trying to imagine the echo of their voices in the dark. Fortunately, for tonight at least, sleep felt like it was coming quickly. Tomorrow was probably going to be a big day, after all.

Author's Note

I am going to aim for an every-other-day update schedule. Lets see if I've got the stones to pull it off.

A Hooffull of Bits

~~~~~The town of Last Rest~~~~~

As far as Gilda was concerned, the badlands sucked.

Mind you, it didn’t suck because of the heat or the dryness. Those sucked, but she could deal. You didn’t get out of primary school back home without being able to deal with sucky weather. It didn’t suck because of the company either. Dusty was kinda alright for a pegasus pony, even if she was occasionally kind of a pisser and a party pooper. Nah, it sucked because there was nowhere out here to get a decent drink.

For anyone else that might not have seemed like a big deal, but Gilda really wanted a stiff drink right now. Preferably one that wasn’t hard cider or moonwhisky. A nice bottle of Las Pegasus Ale would be good. Or maybe a Trottingham Stout. Mmm. Good beer was hard to find out here in the badlands and for any self-respecting griffon, that sucked. Actually, good anything was hard to come by, but she made do for anything that wasn’t beer. It was better than being back in Equestria proper. Better than dealing with her parents or having to give explanations for shit she didn’t want to explain.

Fortunately, Dusty didn’t need explanations. She just needed someone who could work hard, party hard, and didn’t take crap from the locals. Gilda qualified on all three fronts, and thus was a partnership born. She reminded Gilda of- A snapped beak shut that thought down hard, and she went back to doing what she was supposed to be doing. Which was hauling gear and looking intimidating.

So she scowled, and tried not to feel worried about what Dusty was saying a few yards ahead of her. “Whaddya mean you don’t…” A pause, and the mare she was talking to looked to be chewing her out a bit. “Look, we just need a short contract until-” Dusty got cut off again, and Gilda couldn’t help but grin a little. Dusty didn’t get her flank handed to her that often in conversation, and even if it meant losing out on work it was a sight to behold.

Finally, Dusty sighed and threw up her hooves. “Well do you know anypony in town who is!?” That got a pause out of the other pony, and then a brief flurry of words. Gilda rapped her talons against the ground and rolled her eyes. Quit while yer ahead, Dusty, she silently jeered, trying to keep the smirk off her face and failing miserably. It was always nice when somepony else could get Dusty to shut up and listen for once.

Finally, the pegasus turned around with a huff and trotted back towards her. “Figures somepony with a brain would finally install some irrigation down here. Phooey.” She spat at the ground impressively, and growled. “That’ll be a problem down the line, but there’s apparently paying work waiting at the bar. Somepony named Trixie’s looking to deal with a changeling infestation.”

The mention of the stupid bugs made Gilda scowl a little. Word had it that one of the queens had made a play for Canterlot a year or two ago and gotten herself and her entire swarm blown to smithereens for their trouble. Of course, if Celestia had asked a griffon about them she might never have had the problem in the first place. Her scowl turned into a grin as she realized the implications, though. A chance to go changeling hunting and get paid for it? Now that did not suck. “Well, what’re we waiting for?” She tried not to appear too eager. It’d been all too long since she’d had a good fight.

~~~~~

The roadside shack stood proudly in front of a well-maintained, ten-foot tall wooden fence. Behind the fence both brothers knew knew there was a treasure trove of goodies fit to make any inventor or salespony giddy with anticipation. From machined parts to magical artifacts, this place had it all and all under the watchful eye of a very old friend.

He sat on the porch strumming an old banjo which might well have belonged to some kind of music megastar. Or maybe it didn’t, and he’d just tell you that it did. Cactus Jack Pear, Pricklefruit to his friends, was quite possibly the very best of his kind in all of Equestria. Collector, inventor, and salespony truly non pareil. Flim ought to know - he’d been the one to teach them everything they knew.

As they approached the porch, Pricklefruit looked up and his eyes instantly brightened. Nopony really knew how old he was, but sometimes Flim wondered how lonely the old stallion got out here. Flim was not a pony given to embracing those who were not of his family, but the old pony in front of him was an exception to every rule. “Its been a long time, boys.” the wheezy old earth pony muttered out, accepting the offered hugs. For just a moment, they stood in companionable silence.

They were professionals, one and all, and had few contemporaries and even fewer peers. Which meant it would be impossible to hide their hangdog mood from him. It only took him a second to take in the not-quite impeccable vests and slightly tattered hats and do all of the math. His beady eyes narrowed at them. “Hit th’ bottom again, didja?” He half-growled, smacking them in the sides. He didn’t have much strength, but it was enough to put the wind out of Flim’s belly nonetheless.

“We got caught out, Pricklefruit. Twice.” Flam muttered, looking away in embarrassment. It was hard enough to admit to themselves that they’d let the operators get the best of them, but admitting it to somepony else? That was pretty close to not-gonna-happen-ville. “We’re hard up, and we were hoping you might give us a lift. You know we’re good for double it.” Flam tried to keep the begging out of his voice. Pricklefruit knew where they’d be heading next if he said no, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t if he thought they weren’t a good investment.

The ancient earth pony glared at them both, then smacked them upside their heads. Flim winced at the blow, but took it like a stallion anyway. “Idjits. I thought I taught’cha better.” He harumphed, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Yer both lucky I know you wouldn’t ask lest ya had a plan t’ get back on yer hooves.” Flam felt a surge of relief flood his chest, some of the tension draining from his spine. “But I gotta price you need t’ pay, an’ it ain’t bits.” Pricklefruit brandished a walking stick at them, beady black eyes gleaming. “I’ll fund ya on one condition. There’s some badness goin on down south’a here, an’ one of my nieces needs help. I want you two to take them big brains of yers and solve her woes. Legitimately.”

The word ‘legitimate’ made Flam’s coat hair stand on end. Pricklefruit knew them both all too well, and he’d be able to figure them out instantly if they tried to run a scam on the girl. “What’s her malfunction, Pricklefruit?” Flam asked, keeping his voice low and cautious. “You know we’re not exactly troubleshooters…”

Pricklefruit fixed him with a glare, one strong enough that he could’ve bottled it and sold it to parents with distressed foals. “No, but y’all know how t’ adapt to anything.” He feinted another smack with the cane, then grinned broadly. “Besides, I know how ya both like a double payday. Somepony in town’s already puttin’ together help t’ fix the issue.”

That made Flam take in a breath, Flim miming him. Pricklefruit just chuckled. “I know, I know. It’s not my usual thing to send ponies gallavantin’ off on damnfool adventures but…” He hesitated for a moment, just long enough for them to see it. “Well, it’s important somepony practical is there t’ take care of things. Since I can’t go myself…” He shifted in his seat, and Flim could’ve sworn he could hear the coot’s hips creaking.

Flim shook his head slowly. This sort of thing really wasn’t up their alley. They were hardly adventurers, they were thinkers! Creators of wondrous items and sellers of the same! But… He glanced towards his brother, and he had the very same look. Who else could they turn to? Who else would bankroll them? “What sort of woes are we talking about here, old timer?” Flim drawled, hoping he could stall long enough to get some more information.

But Pricklefruit was giving them a hard look. “Trouble,” he said, with an emphasis on the word that sent a cold chill down Flim’s spine. His next words were like a judge’s gavel, coming down with a guilty verdict weight behind it. “You in, or not?”

~~~~~~~~

There were exactly four things a dragon needed to know about how to be a dragon. One, you had to be tough. Two, you had to be cunning. Three, you needed a damn good hoard if you were gonna get any respect. And four, you weren’t gonna get that hoard sittin’ around in a volcano. Not a real one, anyway. Gems were tasty, but far too easy to find if you wanted to impress a pretty drake. Diamonds did better since they were so rare, but even they paled in comparison to more tangible forms of wealth.

All of this had been new to Garble when he’d first tried getting into Lillianerath’s cave. He’d been sure his limitless supply of high quality grub could at least get him a date. But no such luck. She wanted statues, paintings, fine pieces of art, legendary artefacts of power, and most importantly of all: Gold. Lots and lots of gold to snuggle up on.That meant if Garble had any intentions of getting laid, he’d better be ready to work for it or steal it. Since he wasn’t quite large enough to be raiding museums or sacking castles, he’d have to get his start the old fashioned way. Which sucked. It sucked probably the biggest amount of suck anything could suck in the known world.

But suck or not, he was making progress. Pretty good progress, actually, once that smart businesspony had turned him on to the concept of ‘investing.’ Sure, he couldn’t sleep on a pile of investment slips, but Garble was smart enough to understand that sleeping on the miserly pile of gold he’d managed to collect would just depress him. Better to keep the money working for him, and eventually he’d turn small money into big money. But that meant he had to keep working for the small money so he could keep himself fed and alive while his extra worked for him.

Some dragons might’ve thought he was getting ripped off, but everypony he’d talked to told him that this ‘Filthy Rich’ stallion was on the level. He saw going into business with a dragon as a good long term investment of his own, and Garble was inclined to agree. So long as he got his hoard, why the fuck did he care how he got it? Maybe he could become famous like that Dunkelzahn guy his grandpop had told him about…

Whatever. He had to get more money before he could even think about being famous, much less have a horde big enough to impress. So that meant doing what Rover called ‘grunt work,’ which given the apparently fearsome reputation of diamond dogs and dragons alike meant mostly being intimidating and sometimes beating ponies up or protecting other ponies from getting beaten up. It was kind of a lame job, but it paid well enough (according to Mr. Rich, anyway) that Garble himself didn’t much mind it.

What he did mind was that Rover was such a grump about things. He never seemed to have a lick of good cheer in him about anything, and while Garble could put up with that to a degree, he kinda wished the dog would crack a joke once in a while. Or maybe show some emotion other than grim resignation. He meant… yeah, sure, what’d happened to him had sucked flank but that was no excuse to act like a dinglebat.

Again, whatever. It was time to look for a new job, and that meant looking tough and grunting a lot. Rover did the talking, since that was easier than trying to get a pony to talk to him. Wimps acting like they’d never seen a dragon before. “Hrrrhn,” Rover grumbled as he checked the omnipresent cork board that represented all of the outstanding work in this town and every other one they’d visited down here. Most of the notices were tattered and faded, but one was bright and fresh. ‘Help wanted for bandit eradication. Good pay. Apply at Bar. Ask for Trixie,’ it read. “Could be promising,” the dawg growled, and turned to head for the bar without another word.

It took Garble a moment to figure out what he’d meant, and another couple of them to scramble and catch up to his so-called partner. “Wait up, bro!” he half shouted as he pumped his still slightly-awkward legs, longing for the day when he was huge and didn’t have to travel anywhere except by wingbeats and being obviously carried by his legions of future minions. “Dude, what’dya mean ‘promising’?” The job had read pretty standard to Garble, but maybe he’d missed something.

“Bandits often have extra loot,” Rover grumbled, giving him a faintly disdainful look, “and often know lots of things that might be valuable to me. And you.” He turned away and continued his trundling walk to the bar, seemingly content in his answer. Garble jogged a bit to keep up, but didn’t immediately respond. That was true that the two bandit jobs they’d done so far had been profitable, but what was this crap about ‘knowing things’?

Rover was such a weirdo sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Trixie wanted a pair of aspirin and a nice dark room right about the time the fifteenth dirt farmer wandered in and tried to convince her she needed their help in dealing with her little problem. It wasn't that they lacked muscle or strength, but rather that the instant they heard the word ‘changelings’ they ran like little fillies before the school play. The excuse was always different, but the results were the the same.

She needed a crew to pull this off - no two ways about it. Ideally she’d like about a dozen well trained royal guards and a few unicorn battle mages, but since that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon she had hoped for a few locals who were decent in a fight and knew how to hold a line. Instead, it seemed nopony around here could believe that a changeling was no tougher or more dangerous than your average low-level unicorn and could be beaten with smarts and guts.

She was about ready to scream with frustration when the diamond dog and dragon walked in the door. Instantly, Trixie’s hopes for actually surviving this job jumped dramatically. There were few tougher fighters on the planet than those two races, although Trixie knew a few griffons who might argue with that. They focused on her a moment later and she very nearly did a little dance in place. They were looking for her! They were looking for her job! She might very well walk away from this alive!

But this wasn’t the time to lose her cool, so she quickly schooled her expression back to neutrality. “Are you Trrrixie?” the dog rasped out, his voice thick with the kind of inflection the independant dog tribes tended to have. His dragon…. friend, for lack of a better term, was crossing his forearms and giving her a stern sort of look. Obviously some sort of informal partnership, where the dog talked and the dragon loomed.

She ought to have known their names, but it was escaping her at the moment. “I am the Great and Powerful Trixie,” she intoned archly, which got a blink of surprise from both of them. Good, best to make it clear she wasn’t going to be intimidated. “Are you here in regards to the job?” Best to be sure they weren’t here to collect on some forgotten debt.

“Rrf.” That could have been agreement, or it could have been a negative. Fortunately, he kept talking. “What is the pay? And where is the work?” His trill settled a bit, and he himself settled onto his haunches to watch her cautiously.

“Rosedale, and the pay will be one hundred bits, plus looting rights.” That had been a stickler in her side, but it was the only hope she had for attracting good enough talent to actually deal with this. If she was lucky, she’d be able to keep them from looting the town too. “Half in advance, half when the job is complete. Standard contract.” She kept her voice clipped and professional. No sense in getting too personal with them, at least until they were officially on the job. “We’re dealing with changelings. Is that going to be a problem?” Trixie was tempted to lie about their targets, but that might lead to desertion out in the field… and losing what little help she could afford would be disastrous. Best to make sure they were stern enough to deal with it before paying them.

That got a cocked eyebrow from the dog, who worked his lips for a moment before nodding. “We’ll take the contract.” he growled quietly, casting a quick glance at his dragon friend. “Will need more than just two.”

Trixie nodded. “Feel free to take a seat. Trixie is hoping to get several more.” Hoping, but not hopeful.

The dog nodded. “Me Rover.” He patted his chest three times, traditional greeting of allies. “This is Garble.” He thumbed to the dragon dismissively, and the teenaged dragon grinned with a huge field of deadly looking fangs. “When do we leave?”

Trixie shook her head. “When we have enough help, or sunset tomorrow. Whichever comes first.” She took a deep breath. “If we get nopony else before tonight, I’ll provide you your half pay to pick up whatever you’ll need for the trip.”

The dog nodded and trundled himself over to one of the bar stools. The dragon - Garble, wasn’t it? - looked a bit hesitant, glancing at her for a moment before putting on what he must’ve thought was a smile before hurrying after his partner. What a strange pair. Dogs didn’t typically run in packs of other creatures.

Trixie settled back to her drink, slightly bolstered by the presence of a pair of real fighters. She still couldn’t figure out how to actually win this little fracas yet, but now she knew how she could survive it. That was better than an hour ago, and then the door swung open again and Trixie’s heart lifted all the way back up to her chest.

A griffon!

Had she been inclined to do so, Trixie might’ve done a little dance in place at the sight of the lean and sleek griffon accompanied by a rough-and-tumble pegasus mare. The pegasus was nice, but the griffon was fit cause for celebration. Nothing and no one liked hunting changelings more than griffons did. They were the closest thing the damned bugs had to a natural predator, and what was more they held the things in universal contempt.

The pair of them spotted her a moment later, and she schooled her expression into neutrality. “Word is you’re organizing a bug hunt.” The griffon sneered confidently. Trixie might have giggled at her faux ‘bad-girl’ attitude, but that would probably chase her off. Military brat, running away from her family probably. Trixie ran into a lot of those out on the road, especially near Las Pegasus.

Speaking of the pegasus… she was hanging out near the back, giving Trixie an odd look. She could’ve been any number of things, but nopony ended out here in the badlands without a good reason. Since she probably wasn’t a native, she was probably running from something the same as Trixie. What or who she was running from was mostly irrelevant. “You would be correct. One hundred bits for each hire, plus looting rights.” She arched an eyebrow at the pegasus. “And you will be given first claim on any changeling horns you wish to claim as trophies.”

That got a big shit-eating grin out of the griffon girl. “That’d be a nice little present to send back to pops.” She drawled, turning to her… partner, perhaps? “It’s good pay, Dusty. Better than if we’d gotten the weather job. I say we take it before somepony else poaches it.”

The pegasus she’d called ‘Dusty’ looked about ready to smack her, her expression looking distinctly ticked-off... before collapsing into resignation. “We need the bits, I guess.” Her voice was less enthusiasm and more bitter acceptance. That might turn out to be a problem if Trixie didn’t keep an eye on it, so she resolved to do just that. Odd reaction though; most pegasi relished the chance to get into a real fight without one of the Cloudsdale Legion looming over their shoulders.

She nodded to where Rover and Garble were sitting, somewhat separated from one another, and the pegasus sulked over towards them. “Tsch. What crawled up her plot?” the griffon muttered, then shook her head. “I’m Gilda, that’s Lightning Dust. When do we leave?”

Trixie hummed. Four wasn’t bad, but she wouldn’t mind a few more. She had funds for ten before it started to eat badly into her own profits, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Trixie is hoping for a few more. We’ll wait until midday before heading out.” That felt right to her. Anyone looking for actual work would be here before midday, and the rest would just be vultures.

The griffon nodded once, then did a quick trot over to where ‘Dusty’ was sitting, starting to talk to her in a low voice. Trixie felt like she ought to go talk to that one, just to make sure there wouldn’t be trouble… but then, of course, trouble walked in the door. “Well, well! Look what the manticore dragged into this fine establishment,” drawled a brain-searingly familiar voice.

“Sure enough, brother of mine. Heaven forefend that this is our soon-to-be employer.” piped the second, inevitable voice to match the first. Trixie had to drag her gaze, hoping beyond hope for a moment that it wouldn’t be THOSE two… and of course, it was. “Long time no see, Miz Looney Moon.” Lilted one of the Flim Flam Brothers. Trixie had never been able to easily tell them apart, though one of them had apparently grown a mustache since the last time they’d met.

She fixed them both with a flat look… but only for a moment. They were likely amongst the most annoying, frustrating, and otherwise exasperating ponies on the face of the planet. But… They were both grinning at her, comfortable and relaxed in a way that precious few ponies in the world ever were around her. “Well if it isn’t Fiddle and Faddle,” she drawled back, crossing her hind legs and cocking an eyebrow at them. “I thought you two were deathly allergic to real work.”

The mustached one, Trixie decided this one would be Flim, sighed dramatically. “Well, we are, we are… but you know how it is, ol’ looney. When you’re hard up for cash, you do what you have to do.” His grin never wavered though, despite his theatrics, and he chuckled a moment later. “Pricklefruit sent us. Apparently he’s got family where you’re going, and we’ve been tasked to assist.”

Ah. That made a great deal more sense than the pair of them coming on their own. You got to know the other ponies who traveled the roadways of Equestria, and it was almost like an ordinary community. Sure, it might be months at a time before you saw someone again but it was no less like greeting a friendly neighbor for that. Everypony knew everypony else, and everypony also knew everypony’s scams. And everypony knew Old Pricklefruit, the stallion that was practically a legend amongst thieves.

Still, this was possibly a positive. Whatever else might be said about the Flim Flam Brothers, and Trixie would have been happy to say a very great deal about them, they weren’t stupid. Jerks and con artists through and through, but not stupid. They knew how to adapt to a bad situation quite quickly, and they brought a number of specialty skills with them. They weren’t the fighters she might’ve preferred, but… “Give Trixie a good reason why she should bring along a pair of reprobates like yourselves,” she sneered, hoping to conjure up something useful out of them.

Fortunately, they were quick on the uptake. “We’ve got your logistics handled,” supplied Flam, with a vague smirk, “and we can bring along a few trump cards you might appreciate. We do have a fine and superbly effective changeling repellant, and my dear brother over here is a natural at producing any number of vile and dangerous substances to hurl at our foes.” He gave a dramatic flare of a hoof waggle, which had about as much effect on her as a buzzing fly.

Still, he’d cut her to the quick on the subject of supplies. She would undoubtedly need them, and she’d need more than the usual stuff if she hoped to pull off her scheme. And that repellant might just be the ace she needed… “Oh, very well, Fiddle. You and your baby brother can join us.” She tried hard to keep the snark out of her voice, but it didn’t work very well. Fortunately, the pair of them just laughed off the insult and trundled over to the rest of her little gang and started selling themselves. Typical Flim and Flam.

Trixie settled back into her chair and sipped at her cider. Seven. Seven wasn’t bad. She had a lot of specialty skills to draw on here, and if she was lucky this would be very much an in-and-out job. Of course, she was never lucky, so she immediately began to plan for the worst. It was a good attitude to have out here in the badlands. It was an attitude she was sure would save her life in the days to come.

The Good, The Bad, and the Trixie.

~~~~~Somewhere north of Rosedale, several days later.~~~~~

Three carts and a covered wagon stood in an even half-moon around the smouldering coals of a campfire as the sun peeked above the horizon. Four sleeping bags sat raggedly around the warmth, and a few dozen yards above a lone cloud hung faint and wispy in the air. For Trixie, it was yet another faintly chilly morning in the desert. Yet another morning where she would not wake up in a soft bed or with any of the comforts and amenities the common ponies of Equestria took for granted. But it was also yet another morning where she would wake up alive and not in a prison cell, so she could handle a little discomfort.

The one called Lightning Dust was poking a battered copper pot into the smouldering embers and adding a pitcherful of surprisingly clean looking water to it. She glanced over her shoulder to eye Trixie and nodded once. “Mornin’,” was all she said, before turning back to her pot. Getting to know her compatriots had not been a terribly interesting affair so far. Gilda was a runaway, Flim and Flam were… well, Flim and Flam. Garble was intriguing - she’d genuinely never heard of a dragon trying to get rich through investment of all things. But Lightning Dust intrigued her in a way that only Rover could match.

She might have fed Trixie a story about a botched weather agency job and being down on her luck, but everything about her screamed ‘Wonderbolts Washout’. Yet even those souls who failed to meet their standards typically didn’t have trouble finding work with one of the other pegasi flying teams, and there was nothing about Lightning Dust’s attitude that suggested a quitter. So what had happened to her? An accident? Bad luck? Had she pissed off someone important? Something I’d know all too much about… It was weirdly distracting to not know what she’d done… or what had been done to her.

Rover was the true enigma, though. Trixie might not have gone to Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, but she hadn’t skimped on her self-education. Diamond dogs simply did not run without their packmates unless some disaster had separated them, and they were known to go to some rather severe lengths against the forces that had done so. That was equal parts good and bad, since diamond dogs were fierce and unconventional fighters and she was going to need every inch of that. But he had the mien of a dog looking for a place to die, and the last thing she needed was him running off to die ‘honorably’ or some nonsense.

The pot had come to a boil amidst her ruminations, and she stuck her head back into her cart to drag out a half-full bag of oatmeal mix and levitate it over to Dust. “We’re going to be busy today, so fix us all up a bowl,” she said quietly voice, Lightning Dust looking surprised at the offering. So far they’d mostly relied on themselves and the supplies Flim and Flam had ginned up but Trixie needed them in prime condition today. They were going to make the town before noon, and she wanted everyone alert and moderately cheerful.

The plan she’d struck upon was a fairly simple one. She’d heard of it used before to great effect in the far east, and planned to add her own flair to it. It was likely that the changeling infestation wasn’t that severe, and they were keeping the townsfolk afraid by virtue of superstition rather than any real numbers. It would be a snap to turn Flim and Flam’s skills at working a crowd to rile them up to action, and she could then use Gilda’s knowledge of changeling fighting techniques to get the townsfolk in a condition where they could defend themselves. Then it would be a simple matter - use Dust and Rover to lure out the swarm, get everyone to beat them up a little and let the townsfolk do the rest.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?

Of course it wouldn’t be. Trixie already knew the whole damn opera was going to fall apart at the first brush with the enemy, and for all she knew this particular changeling swarm was being lead by a Queen which would… Well, okay, Trixie didn’t think herself much of a fighter, but she was pretty sure Prince Captain Shining Armor would go looking for backup in that scenario. She would probably run for Equestria and hope to Celestia that Twilight had forgotten her little… well, she wouldn’t depress herself and think about that.

For now though, she would proceed with the plan. It was solid enough to take on adjustments as needed, and probably flexible enough to make certain that one thing going wrong wouldn’t bring down everything. The smell of cinnamon and dried apples reached her nose, and she took a deep breath. She would also spend now eating her breakfast and worry about the complexities of things later.

Gilda was already sitting at the fire by the time her attention returned, and Garble was examining the oatmeal with a rather dubious expression. Rover had eaten and was now sitting a little bit away from the camp and staring off into the distance, while Flim and Flam were already chatting animatedly about… something. Maybe the scheme they intended to use on the rubes? Whatever. “Pour me a bowl, please,” she said simply, and Lightning Dust dutifully compiled. “Trixie will now be going over our plans for the day,” she announced, and all eyes focused on her.

She cleared her throat, trying not to get stage fright. The curtain was just going up on this little show.

~~~~~Rosedale~~~~~

Flim eyeballed the little town in front of him, running over the facts in his head one by one. If Last Rest was the ‘end of the line’ in Equestria, then Rosedale was in some nebulous place beyond it. Perhaps ‘the middle of nowhere’ might finally be a legitimate appellation for a place, because if anywhere was there, it was here. The road that had taken them here was ancient, rough, and in bad need of a re-grade. Best he could tell, it had been laid in the time of Commander Hurricane and nopony had paid much attention to it since.

Then again, anypony living this far south was pretty much admitting they didn’t want to live under the rule of Princess Celestia for one reason or another. Nonconformists, criminals, exiles, opportunists, and stubborn traditionalists whose families had lived out this way for millennia were in thick supply this far from the Equestrian border. That meant his and Flam’s usual techniques for conning the customers wasn’t going to fly.

Flash and spectacle might’ve been the way into the hearts of most of Equestria, but ponies out here were interested in one thing only: Results. That meant anything they tried to sell to them had to be firmly grounded in reality. Which meant that Trixie’s plan was utterly absurd on its face, and they were already in serious trouble.

Not that he disagreed with her sentiments, mind you. It was a solid enough plan, but she was just a little… naive in thinking that they were going to convince these folks that changelings weren’t some sort of demonic entities sent from the depths of Tartarus to punish them for some damnfool sins nopony else gave two shits about. At least it isn’t Windigos. The last thing I need are those apocalypse cult ponies giving us trouble again…

But that was neither here nor there. He had to sell this scheme to these ponies, and he would be buggered if he was going to admit that he couldn’t sell something to a bunch of back-country hooligans. Especially hooligans that Pricklefruit gave a shit about, since the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint the old coot. I’m going to smack him when I get back to Last Rest for sending us on this errand… This whole thing is shaping up to be a disaster waiting to happen.

Flam had a grim look when he glanced over to his brother, and he was certain he had one to mirror it. “Not going to be an easy sell, brother,” Flam groused, eyes screwing shut as he pinched at his snout. “We’re going to need something spicy to get under their coats. Ideas?”

Flim hummed and rubbed at his chin. “Pride could work. We haven’t pulled out the old ‘nothing to fear’ dodge in a while and it might just work here.” He sniffed, trying to get his thoughts together. “Folks in places like this like to think about how tough they are. All we need to do is prick that. Angle?”

Flam nodded, grimness turning to thoughtful consideration. “They sent for help pretty desperately, and I’ll bet they aren’t going to much like that they had to do it. We need to be difference makers.” He tilted his head towards his brother, cocking an eyebrow. “Force multipliers, so to speak. Make them think they’re the ones solving the problem, we just sort of helped make it possible. What do you think for tone?”

Flim snorted faintly. “Celestia’s balls if I know. Have to make that up on the fly. Depends on how scared they are.” He hated making things up like this on the go. A good con was entirely about believability and it was hard to sell believability when you were going off of pure instinct. Pricklefruit could do it, but he was Pricklefruit. That horse could sell cheap glassware to a crystal pony and make at least sixty percent profit doing it.

His brother sighed faintly. “Tell me we’ve got enough of the juice to actually do something, brother.” There was a faint note of desperation in his voice, and Flim couldn’t blame him.

He gave his very best grin. “Don’t worry, Flam. We’ve got more than enough to deal with this little bug infestation. If we’re canny about it, we might even be able to eke out a little profit too.” That was probably pushing it, but Flam needed a boost. That’s what brothers were for, after all.

There was a pregnant pause, and Flam laughed faintly. “I believe we’re stalling, o’ sibling of mine.” That… was probably true. Even if he really didn’t want to admit it. Flam stood all at once, his voice chipper as he began to move, “Come on. We need to get a feel for the town and we can’t do that from here.” Off he went, trotting almost merrily.

Flim scrambled to catch up, trying to suppress his shock at the sudden change of mood. Surely he couldn’t have been that inspiring. “Flam! Wait up!” He yelled, and his brother laughed at him. What had gotten into him?

~~~~~~~

The smell of flowers was nigh on overpowering for him, but even more distracting was the rich soil’s distinct scent . Rover had never stood in such a place before, and especially not in such a place that ought to have been a wasteland. It had been like crossing some unseen border as they approached the town, the feel of the dirt beneath his paws changing subtly from the dry and cracked earth of the badlands to something softer and sweeter. It was… soothing. He was irritated to find his mood unconsciously improving with every step he took. He was not on some kind of holiday here, he was here to work. And yet…

He shook off the strange feeling and snapped at the air. There was an underlying tension as the pack loped into town, moving without purpose or unity. Hardly even capable of being called a pack, but it was the only term he had to familiarize himself with the situation. Somehow, somewhere in the back of his mind, he smelled a strange familiarity about the others next to him. He was not one given to believe in the usual dog superstitions, but he shared something with these strange ponies.

Something important.

Whatever it was, he was determined to root it out before he moved on. The bits he intended to earn here would be enough to purchase transport to the Saddle Arabian kingdoms, so he had little time. He would need to open up a bit, discover what his new Packleader was like before she too moved on to the next thing. There was a melancholy about her, almost an air of profound regret that pulsed deep below the surface. She had done something terrible in her past, and it haunted her. It was a feeling he was familiar with.

As they strode into the town, curious faces and hopeful eyes followed them. Ponies and mules poked heads out of doorways and windows to watch their eclectic band pass by. Rover turned his nose to the air and inhaled deeply. Under the faint stink of changeling chitin, there were the far deeper and more pleasent scent of the town’s inhabitants. Ponies of all three tribes. Mules. Donkeys. An old mated pair of Griffons. A smattering of buffalofolk and- His nose caught on the sharp scent. Four of them, a male, a female and two pups.

Dogs.

His head swiveled left to right, trying to suss out the exact direction they were, but the scent was all over town. They’d been here a while, leaving their mark all over the damn place. What was worse was that this mark was underwritten with fear so distinct that Rover had to fight the urge to turn his tail and run for the hills. It was a fear that was all too likely a product of having young pups in close proximity to changelings and the horrors promised to those who were taken in the night…

He shook his head to clear it and steeled his features. The pack leader had strode forward to engage the local constabulary, and was already speaking in low tones. She would handle the politics, he had other things to worry about. So he loped off, confident that she’d find him when he was needed for his tasks and not a moment before.

The town was not large. Perhaps two or three dozen buildings in total, and most of those were either large communal homes or warehouses. There was a post office, a public bath house, and a doctor’s office and not much else besides. Oh, there was a general store, but it looked a touch on the shabby side. The local dogs scent was strong around the post office, and from there he followed the trail to one of the large houses.

The door swung open just as he came up to it and Rover nearly scrambled away at the sight that greeted him. An absolutely gorgeous female of his own species, smiling faintly at him. But that wasn’t what nearly sent him running. It was the absolute horde of fillies, colts, young mules, and the two adorable pups that were clearly her own children milling about her feet and all looking at him with big, wide and hopeful eyes. “I vass vondering ven you vould come,” the female dog said in a thick accent and with a slow smile. “I could use a paw with ze childer. Come inside, lone one.”

Rover swallowed the knee-jerk words he wanted to speak, and instead contented himself with a grunt and an embarrassed look to the side as he shuffled into the house and the sea of young and smiling faces therein. Great, five minutes in a new town and already he was waist deep in trouble and pups. What else could go wrong?

~~~~~~~

Gilda grunted faintly as she examined the crude map of the town. This place was a defensive nightmare, flat terrain in every direction filled with flower and rose bushes too low to provide real cover for the ponies but just high enough to work for those fracking changelings. There was a fairly fast river with enticing possibilities to the west, and plenty of wood-workers in town who knew how to build good barricades, but that was the entirety of the good news. The town’s ‘defense’ militia consisted of two old Griffons who hadn’t seen a proper battle in decades and a smattering of buffalo, donkeys and earth ponies with farming tools.

Which wasn’t to say the griffons weren’t wily and tough looking, or that the earth ponies didn’t look like they could break down mountains if they put their minds to it. They were just universally untrained and unready for this. She had her work cut out for herself, especially with the attitude of the town ‘sheriff’ who looked like he probably got hired to the position because he was built like a brick shithouse. “But we hired you to come and deal with this problem!” he growled, almost whining. If a voice that sounded like churning gravel could be said to be ‘whiny’. It made her want to slap him upside the head.

Still, she restrained herself. Besides, it was fun to watch this Trixie chick do her thing. “The great and powerful Trixie was not paid sufficient funds to bring an army,” she snapped with such a scathing tone that Gilda was pretty sure she’d just traumatized the poor bugger across the table. “So she brought specialists to ensure that the problem could be dealt with! Surely you did not think a mere fifteen hundred bits was sufficient to bring a mercenary company this deep into the badlands?”

Something on the dork’s face told Gilda that was exactly what he thought, but he swallowed whatever retort he was intending to deliver when Trixie slammed her hoof into the table. “Enough! Trixie did not come here to argue the point. Your townsfolk will be trained to deal with the changeling scum, and we will join you in bringing the fight to them. Once they have been defeated and scattered, we shall be on our way after we have assured you are ready to further defend yourselves. Do you understand Trixie?”

Gilda nodded in slow approval. She might be a prissy unicorn, but this Trixie knew how to deliver a good yell. Fortunately, the old griffon gent stepped forward before the sheriff could get any wind in his sails. “We understand, Miss Trixie. And we thankya for true for your help.” he grumbled gently, with a hint of steely resolve. The way he was standing there, he looked like old military. Maybe he was. “Mister Frost Rose will join us tonight at the inn and we’ll deliver the plan to the townsfolk together.” He eyeballed the Sheriff who looked about ready to swallow his tongue before reaching out to clamp his talons over the idiot’s muzzle. “That is enough, Mister Ripped. We have work to do.”

The one he’d called Mr. Ripped glared at them, then tromped off in a sulk. Heh, she already liked this guy and she didn’t even know his name yet. “I’m Ironbeak,” the aged griffon said with friendly smile. “Frosty and I were the ones to send Blossomtime to find you. Our…” His beak twisted in disgust, “Guests in the western caves had agreed that we’d be pretty useless as a food source if we could not buy supplies. I’ve no doubt once they hear of your arrival, they shall be most put out.”

Gilda nodded shortly, crossing her arms. “Gimme the straight silver, gramps. Will these sissy ponies fight?” She didn’t need some line from the sheriff or the mayor on this one, she needed an expert.

Ironbeak’s beak gaped open in a grin. “If you can convince them they can win, they will fight. They would’ve fought already, but the changelings are quite numerous and after what happened in Canterlot, very intimidating.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think it will take much to rouse them to action, but I would be wary. They will think first of their own, second of their possessions, and you shall be a distant third should things become grim.”

Gilda shot a look at Trixie, who looked a little grim herself. “Trixie is aware of that sort of attitude. We shall be careful.” She kept her voice even, but it was clear she was already planning her escape. Well, fair enough. So was Gilda.

But for now, she needed to play along so she could get paid. “Alright then, gramps. I’m deputizing ya.” She grinned griffily at him. “Lets see if we can’t whip these ponies into shape.”

~~~~~~~

Trixie crossed her forelegs and watched at a distance as Flim and Flam worked the crowd that had begun to gather in the town square. They were already busting out into song, though instead of their usual song-and-dance routine, they were pulling from an old Equestrian war ballad from the days before the Alicorns.

Trixie knew that all it would take was a single letter to Twilight Sparkle and she would be down here before Trixie could blink thrice. Trixie knew that all it would take was one little apology, and she could have the resources to deal with this problem lickity split. Of course, to do either of those things, she would need to finally admit in a letter how much of a monster she’d became before Twilight had saved her from certain banishment or death. And Trixie was simply not ready to do that yet.

Lightning Dust settled down next to her, as her griffon partner began to bully and chide the locals with military nonsense about how easy it would be to protect the place. Dust cocked an eyebrow at her. “This is gonna be rough, isn’t it?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Trixie nodded. “Trixie hopes you are as clever with pegasus magic as she thinks you are. We shall need every ounce of that cleverness to survive.” She blew out a hard breath. The townsfolk would take care of their own, and it was up to her to take care of hers. Somehow without getting them all slaughtered - or worse: captured. She had heard stories of what happened to mares captured by changelings alive, and she would slit her wrists before such a fate befell her. “I shall need you to be forthright with any ideas you might have,” she said quietly as the din began to rise amongst the townsfolk.

Lightning Dust nodded. “Gilda’s no slouch herself. And I’ll bet that dog and his dragon friend are pretty tasty in a fight.” She jerked her head towards Flim and Flam, her voice a low growl. “They anything more than a pair of conponies?”

Trixie had to smile at that one. “No, but they are very excellent at what they do. They’ve got hidden talents for mayhem that I intend to exploit.” She could remember the first time they’d ended up in the same town together. Ah, memories. She shook her head clear of such silliness and focused on the now. “It’s not going to be particularly easy, though.”

The pegasus nodded and settled back on her haunches to watch the absurdity of the Flim Flam Brothers’ act. Trixie chuckled and left her to that pastime, turning and moving away from the crowd and into the ‘streets’ of Rosedale.

The town was tiny in comparison to anywhere else but other towns like it, and reminded her a great deal of a tiny town called Ponyville. True, Ponyville would have been eminently more defensible against an attack of this nature, if for no reason than by the proximity of one Twilight Sparkle, whose name still burned in Trixie’s mind.

Her thoughts ground to a halt as a trio of foals went galloping by towards the town square, apparently having heard the cacophony there. In the distance, several aged earth ponies moved amongst the flower fields that surrounded the town and tended to their crop. It was tranquil and homelike here, and had she merely been traveling the roads Trixie likely would have found this place to be agreeable to settling down for a little while.

The wind caught her cloak, billowing it impressively as she gazed towards the stubby mountains to the west of the town. That was where the changelings were supposedly coming from. Once every two weeks or so, gathering the love energy and what few other supplies they needed to survive then vanishing again. They had just been here two days ago, which meant Trixie had a small window of opportunity to make this place wholly unpalatable to the damn bugs.

She reached up and pulled her hat down as the sun slowly arced towards the horizon. Tonight, they would eat, drink, and make merry to show the townsfolk they could be trusted. Tomorrow, the real work would begin and the clock would begin to tick down until either her finest hour…

Or her final one.

Author's Note

New chapters coming at a rate of once per week from now on.

Unforgotten

~~~~Rosedale~~~~

“As one!”

“HYAH!”

“Better! Next line, get the buck out here and show me what you got!”

Gilda prowled around the fallow field with her talons clasped behind her back. That was more to keep herself from pummeling the crap out of the newbies than anything else. They were… not bad as newbies went. She’d trained worse and it probably helped that she wasn’t trying to teach them swords or anything fancy. Just whatever weapons they had to hand, which tended to be things like pitchforks, wood axes, sledgehammers, and spears.

Actually, the spears had surprised her. Nearly every house in town had at least two lying around somewhere, and no one seemed to have a good explanation as to why. Most of them were pretty fuckin’ old, and this place was more or less eighty percent earth-pony, so maybe that was why. Still, the weapons just needed a quick go on the sharpening wheel of the local blacksmith and they were ready to go.

Which was good because as weapons went, nothing was as good for earth pony fighters as a spear or spear-like thing. (The crossbow was number two, but crossbows were incredibly rare outside the army.) Once she’d distributed the actual weapons to the strongest and most competent fighters in town, everyone else had gotten whatever else was lying to hoof. A good third of the town was actually wielding scythes and hedge-trimmers, for pity’s sake! She still wasn’t sure what the heck they could do with them, but most of the combat training she could give in a short time was going to be about attitude anyway.

The next group of newbies, for example, were all wielding ten-pound, iron headed and oak-hafted sledgehammers. Where they’d gotten the oak… nevermind. The point was, they were the closest thing she had to heavy infantry so she had to treat them a bit differently. “Alright, you losers!” she growled, stalking around the back. “Lay into those dummies! I want to see fast recovery! Watch each other’s backs! Don’t get fussed by your windup!” This was all basic-infantry bullshit, but it seemed to put some heart into them.

The fighters heaved and huffed and probably were doing more physical work than they did all year under normal circumstances. Which was fine, considering they needed some stamina training anyway and this was doing as good a job as anything would. With her students in full swing, Gilda decided she could take a moment to glare outside her little domain and observe the goings on.

The sound of sawing wood and pounding nails was nearly universal now as everypony in town pitched in to help build the defenses. There wasn’t time to build a proper wall, and changelings weren’t usually deterred by such things anyway. So instead, they were going with a tried and true griffon tactic: spiked barricades. Simple enough to build - just half a wall with the front liberally covered in sharpened wooden sticks and a couple sturdy planks to hold it up at an angle.

She really wanted to be practicing with them, since it was kind of hard to describe to ponies just how much like actual bugs Changelings behaved. That was really the down-and-dirty core of griffon strategy when fighting changelings outside a hunting pack. You had to know how they thought and exploit their usual lack of creativity in combat against them. Gilda stretched her arms out and folded them across her chest and huffed. At least these dorks weren’t totally incompetent, or she’d be terrified for her life.

Half an hour later, this team’s turn was done and it was time for a midday break. Nothing substantial got done in the midday out here, seeing as how it could get seriously freakin’ hot. “Are you sure you don’t want me and LD to whip up some cloud cover?” She eyeballed the cloud-free sky above, and tried not to scowl. Out here, far away from the Equestrian Weather Service, somehow these jerks managed to live with the unforgiving and unkind weather the badlands could provide.

The town’s blacksmith apprentice - Annealed Edges or something - just chuckled and shook his head. “Tis’ a mighty kind offer of ya, miz Gilda. But th’ roses need the light. It’s almost harvest season, an’ we want the color to be bright and proper.” Then off he trundled, humming some country tune.

It was maddening, but Gilda didn’t know the first bloody thing about growing flowers, so she’d just have to suffer from boredom for the next few hours. Fortunately, she could at least enjoy a genteel boredom, which was honestly not much better than regular boredom but when on the job she’d take what she could get.

The town had settled into the task of making themselves unpalatable to a changeling attack at the direction of Trixie’s little motley crew. She was one of that motley crew, but that was beside the bloody point. The Flim Flam Doofuses were brewing up some kind of wretched concoction of stuff they swore was absolutely abhorrent to changelings. Gilda was pretty sure it was just abhorrent to everyone, and changelings just happened to be on the list of ‘everyone’. Rover had been dragooned into helping take care of the town’s fledglings under the direction of Miz Ezemerelda, which was probably the most adorably hilarious thing she’d ever seen. The dragon kid… what was his name again? Gargle? Whatever. He’d been dragged off by Trixie for some ‘special’ job that nopony seemed to know much about. Which left LD…

She’d been told the big warehouse style building was typically used to hold the arranged pallets of flowers waiting for delivery carts during the harvest season. But today, it was home to an ever growing army of thunder clouds, hanging fat, heavy, and dark wherever LD could put one. Stepping into the room was like stepping into the most humid possible room in the middle of early spring, and it was glorious. The damn clouds sucked up heat like ice-cubes and there was a constant low fog covering the floor.

LD was up putting the finishing touches on another cloud before shoving it into place along with its friends. None of the clouds were really ‘done’ per se, but she’d gotten them to the point where turning them all the way on wouldn’t be too hard. The last thing either of them wanted was a room full of buzzing thunderheads. That’d probably blow up the town before they could use them, so they’d take the extra time when things got hairy. “Hey, cloudfucker!” she cat-called, and immediately got the attention of her partner.

“Sup, crag-head?” Dusty jeered back and dropped down to the ground with practiced ease. “Done hammering sense into the brains of a bunch of country rubes? Or do you like being a military scab again?” In any other situation, Gilda might’ve given her a couple of blows to the head for that kind of talk.

Right now, she was seriously not in the mood. “Frag off, flygirl,” she snapped and grabbed one of the much lighter and much less dangerous starter clouds that hung near the floor and hauled herself onto it. “Besides, I’m not the one doing donkwork with these clouds.” She eyed the gathering above and grinned. “I mean, you’ve done a shit ton of these. I’d almost think you miss the weather service.”

Dusty tilted her head then sighed, ruefully chuckling. “Ain’t gonna lie, Gilda. I kinda do. It was boring as shit work, but it was work I was good at.” She grabbed herself a cloud and soon they were just sittin’ together. It was a good feeling to just sit together, for some damn reason. LD might not have been… well, her but it was still good. Good in a way she couldn’t put her talon on. LD was looking at her oddly, and then she smiled. “Fuck this sappy nonsense, G. Let’s go grab a drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Flam sunk down into the old wooden chair and casually tossed his straw hat onto the hatrack. The Blushing Rose was not a high-class establishment the likes of which he would engage in usually, but it did have good beer and that was all he could ask for after an exhausting morning in the ad-hoc ‘lab’ they’d cobbled together outside town. He smelled of formaldehyde and cactus juice, and he didn’t even have to speak before a thickly-headed beer plopped down in front of him.

The feisty looking unicorn mare in front of him was smiling coyly. “On the house, Mister.” She winked and frisked off with her tail flowing sassily behind her. He had yet to learn her name in the four days he’d been here, but he was absolutely sure that he wanted to know it. Intimately. By the time Flim joined him, a second beer had appeared magically before them and the brothers shared a moment of silence to enjoy the bitters.

It wasn’t until both had enjoyed a long drink that talk came to the table. “We’ve got to get the distillate to gel,” Flim said in a low tone, leaning in with one hoof on his mug. “If we can’t do that, we’d be better served hopping the first train to the Crystal Empire and hoping nopony comes looking for us.” That was Flim for you, always worried about the chemistry.

Not that Flam disagreed with his basic worry, but they’d overcome this sort of problem before. Worst came to worse, they’d just have to raid somepony’s jam cellar. “Relax, Flim,” he said in a much louder, brighter tone. “Everything’s under control, the stuff works just as well as it did back in Manehatten, and we don’t need it to be perfect.” He patted Flim’s shoulder with a tolerant smile. Flim’s one weakness in this job was that he still didn’t understand that if you showed confidence in your ability to handle a job, other ponies would absorb that confidence and project some of their own.

Flim, on the other hoof, seemed to think that being pessimistic all the bloody time was a good way to do business. “Don’t feed me a line, brother,” he grumbled and took another drink. “Those fields are huge. We can’t hope to spray the entire perimeter of this place with an effective layer.” Then he glared into his beer. “Not without months of work and investment that we don’t have.”

Flam sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Brother, we both knew that wasn’t going to be a viable solution even when we took this job. That’s why I’m building those pressure sprayers. So we can use it on wherever they’ve been hiding.” He poked Flim in the shoulder and grinned. “Classic anti-wasp measures. You don’t try to blanket the town, you take out the source.”

Flim glared at him for a moment, then relaxed considerably. “I’m just worried, Brother. It keeps feeling like we’re headed for some kind of… disaster that we’re not seeing the angle of.” He bit at his lip for a moment and Flam had to wonder… what was his brother seeing that he wasn’t? Was there really some other game going here that he hadn’t considered?

He put down his mug, and touched his brother’s shoulder. “We’re not committed yet, Flim. We’ve got enough supplies to…” He couldn’t say it, but he had to put it out there. Had to, because to do anything less would be to ignore all of their options… and that would violate one of their big rules.

But Flim shuddered a little and shook his head hard. “No, Flam. I’m scared of death, but I’m more terrified of that than I am of dying.” He put on a wry grin and picked his mug up again. “You know, it’s kind of nice to know there’s actually a fate worse than death. I wish I had thought of it earlier.”

Flam couldn’t help himself, he laughed at that. “I don’t think that’s what I’d say, Brother. But I must salute your ability to recover from the grumps.” He raised his mug and the two clanked them together before another drink. It was never comfortable to think about the thing neither of them spoke of. Necessary, quite often, but never comfortable. Kind of like talking about going to the dentist or paying their taxes every year.

Even so, with his mind on fates worse than death, he cast his thoughts to that very thing to try to wonder if that was really the only way out. Perhaps they could get honest work? Then he laughed, and nearly smacked his head into the table at that absurd thought. No, they had far too well established reputations to find honest work pretty much anywhere. Even this wasn’t exactly honest, just a different kind of scam to run on the customers.

The griffon and the pegasus shoved their way into the bar and Flam smiled faintly.One way or another, Flam was sure they could make it through this alive. There were more than enough real operators here to make sure that when the excrement hit the skids there would be enough time to make for the hills. He just had to make sure they got out before everything went hooves up.

~~~~~~~

Fwoooooosh!

The column of flame that erupted from his mouth was a good one. About a 7 on his personal best scale. Nice and even, plenty of power, no extra flamey bits. The fact that all four dry and cracked bushes immediately set aflame was an extra point of pride for him. He’d gotten much better at controlling the heat of his blast to be the most effective. “Good!” the unicorn mare enthused, and a moment later the bushes were snuffed under a field of magic. Each one smoked and smelled kinda delicious, actually. Garble always wondered why the smell of charred wood was so appealing to him.

The unicorn girl smiled up at him. “Now, you understand what you will be doing?” She kept her voice even and patient, but she didn’t sound patronizing. Which was nice, since Garble’s mom had always been like that. Talking down to him like he couldn’t understand road-speak.

“Yup.” He grinned, shoving his fists into his hips. “You can count on me to get the job done.” He had to admit, the mare’s plan was pretty darned clever sounding. The fact that he wouldn’t be expected to do much except set a bunch of bushes on fire was just icing on the awesome cake. Still, he did kind of want to get into the fight… maybe once he was done, he could run on in and kick some changeling butt just for fun.

The unicorn nodded shortly, and adjusted her impressive hat. “Good. Trixie is going to do a little scouting over the hill. I shall meet you and the rest at the tavern tonight so that we can go over the plan with the town leaders.” And with that, she turned away and began to trot toward the western edge of town. She didn’t say another word, turn around, or even offer a high-hoof.

And Garble thought Rover was a little weird.

Oh well, not his business what other creatures acted like. She was paying him, and that was that. Back to town he went, with more than a little swagger in his step. The locals here weren’t so much afraid of him as they were kind of wary. This far out beyond Equestrian borders, he was sure they’d seen plenty of dragons before. Garble had heard legends of undead bone dragons sleeping in the sands far to the south of here, and even more incredible stories of metallic scaled dragons that roamed the skies in a strange nation beyond the shifting sands. Were they true? Fictional? He didn’t know, and didn’t much care. They were cool stories to think about on the long walk back to town.

“Mister Garble?” A small voice behind him made him jump a little, which he tried to parlay into looking like a fast turn-around and probably just looked like a moron in doing so. But the little messenger pony didn’t seem to much mind, patiently holding up a stamped letter for him. How in the name of blue-blazes the mail kept getting delivered was a mystery to him, but he was glad for it.

“Thanks kid,” he grumbled, snatching up the letter and flicking a little blue gem from a pouch. It was gonna be a snack later, but it made the little pegasus colt give him a huge grin and zoom off. It was the little things in life, really. The letter itself was from Mister Rich, detailing his accounts and giving him the usual updates as to how the hoard was coming along. Which was… well, it wasn’t bad. It was still a shamefully small number, but it was a heckofalot bigger than it had been six months ago.

The letter went into a pouch, carefully preserved alongside the others. He was starting to learn how his money was working for him, and that meant he’d be able to make smarter business decisions down the line. But for now, he focused on the next best part of the day: a nice stiff drink.

That was when he heard the low sound, coming in from the distance. It was faint at first, like some kind of weird background hum… then it grew larger by the moment, and Garble was sure it was something he’d better pay attention to. Then the sound of hooves caught his ear, running like fury. ”Garble!” the voice of the unicorn mare screamed over the low droning sound, and he turned to see her come racing over the hill…

Followed by a swarm of sinister Changeling drones speeding towards him. Sharp looking fangs, buzzing bug-wings, chitinous hides gleaming in the midday sun. Everything about an undisguised changeling was designed to be intimidating to pretty much anything facing them.

But that was exactly the wrong sort of thing to show Garble, who had a reputation to uphold. He was a fuck-mothering dragon, the longest lived, most ass-kicking species on the entire face of his planet. Nothing and no one intimidated a dragon, and especially not one of his age who had shit to prove. So he drew in the hardest breath he could hold just as Trixie passed him by, and let loose with an old-fashioned Number 10.

The blast of flame was as big, flashy, and hot as he could possibly make it on short notice. He could do better with a belly full of coal, but that was all back in his bunk waiting for the planned fight. But the flame was more than enough to catch a bunch of the incoming bug swarm by surprise and light an unfortunate scrap of wooden fencing on fire in the process. A half dozen bugs hit the ground in a smoking heap while the rest of them scattered around the incoming blast of flame.

It was not, unfortunately, enough to send them packing. More continued to swarm toward him, and Garble raised his talons and bared his fangs. “You think you’re fuckin’ hard enough?” he roared at the stupid bigs, and sucked in a deep breath again. “Then come get it!” Another roar, ended by a blast of hot blue flames that seared through three changelings before they were too close for a good fire blast. His claws rent into the shell of the first attacker as the town around him erupted into chaos.

~~~~~~

Trixie ran.

She ran like she’d never run before in her life, screaming at the top of her lungs. “To arms! TO ARMS!” Every pony she passed looked confused at first, then the low buzzing sound cued them into her warning. Some grabbed weapons, others simply joined the battle with hooves and whatever they could find to swing at a changeling.

She passed the town’s tavern just in time to see most of those she’d hired burst out of it, the griffon Gilda leading the way with a bar stool in one talon and a kitchen cleaver in the other. She was roaring instructions to the ponies as she swung into the fight, but Trixie couldn’t make out what she was saying over the din. Flim and Flam were racing behind her at first, then quickly alongside her as they put their longer limbs to use. “We’ve got to get to our lab!” they yelled to her, and she nodded once, taking the turn toward the warehouse they’d appropriated for their use.

Lightning Dust went racing past her at an absurd speed, and an equally absurd ten seconds later was racing back with a buzzing black storm cloud toward the fight. Fortunately for Trixie’s sanity, the ponies of the town seemed to be running toward the combat, rather than away from it. Some were carrying weapons, others with whatever farm implements or other such sundries they’d had to hoof. Regardless, they were going to fight, and that was a massive load off of Trixie’s mind.

She came to a halt outside Flim and Flam’s little shack before turning to regard the town behind them. The attack was not as bad as she’d feared, but there was more than enough violence running around that she needed to get in there and do something. But what? Lead, you imbecile, her brain snarled at her, and she smacked her forehead. Yes, she was going to lead these morons, because if she didn’t she’d get in serious trouble. “Go, kid!” Flam yelled out a window and a crashing glass something made him wince. “We’ll bring up the rear!” He yelled again before vanishing back into the place.

Trixie settled her hat atop her head and took a deep breath. She was not a combat mage, she was not a fighter of any sort. She was an illusionist, a stage magician who’d gotten stuck out here because of a bunch of dumb decisions and- Now wasn’t the time. The sound of fighting filled her ears as she raced back into town. What could she do? What in the name of all that was Celestia’s plothole could she contribute to this madness aside from her scheme?

But there was a group of locals milling about a yard with ad-hoc spears and looking quite lost. Aha! Minions! She exulted, grabbing the brim of her hat and feeling her good mood swiftly return. “Come on, you lunkheads!” She struck a dramatic pose, her voice ringing with extra bravado. “Do you want to live forever? Let’s get those bugs!” Gracious, where the heck had that come from? It was total tripe too! Sheesh, she was off her game today…

Fortunately, the locals bought into it pretty quickly. Soon enough, the crowd of peasants were lining up and marching smartly towards the swarm of changeling bugs. A mass of earth pony muscle bristling with spears made from sharpened stakes and kitchen knives strapped to the end of rake handles. It was absurd in the extreme, but Trixie was nopony’s fool. No one who had read a lick of history underestimated the tenacity of earth pony farmers with something to prove, and this lot had a massive chip on their shoulder already. All she needed to do now was inspire them.

Ahead, a knot of changeling warrior drones ripping apart a store front turned to look at them. “Avaunt, you villains!” She screamed, hurling herself to the fore of the crowd. Destructive magic was far from her forte, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t conjure up an energy blast or two. Which she did on the spot, knocking one of the stupid bugs head over plot with his head smoking from the impact. “You’re not going to steal one more whit of our life-force while I’m around!” She snarled out, but didn’t dare to turn around to see how the crowd was taking it.

Mostly because she had to dodge out of the way of a barrage of incoming changeling bolts, some of which took the locals by surprise. “What are you doing standing around!?” Her scream made nearly everyone in the milling crowd jump. They gripped their spears and growled a challenge, and Trixie pointed towards the bugs. “GET IN THERE AND FIGHT!” She yelled, and the battle was joined.

Author's Note

Sorry for the wait. Going to try and do one of these every seven days or so.