Chapter 1: The Story Weaver
//-----------------------------
// Chapter 1: The Story Weaver
//-----------------------------
"In the far north, past the northern grasslands and across the grand river, near the outermost border of Equestria stood a magnificent stone city known as Gelding Hold Keep. This bastion was the heart of the pony kingdoms of old. The fortress itself was a towering behemoth! Its walls four times thicker than the walls at Canterlot, the towers that once stood rivaled the tallest of trees in the ancient Everfree!" So exclaimed the old story teller in his scruffy old voice, his hooves stretched up to the classroom ceiling. His long gray beard waved about as the old tale teller gestured excitedly towards the wide eyed foals sitting on the red rug. The teacher nearby watched the bronze colored stallion attentively as she sat on the edge of her seat.
The frail, balding bronze stallion smiled as he reached into his bright auburn robe and pulled out some fine purple powder.
"The castle was an absolute jewel of ancient pony architecture, its masonry was unparalleled for its time. The artistry and the beauty that the ancients have engraved into the stone was absolutely amazing, intricate designs and astounding craftsmanship fit for kings." He rose both forehooves in the air, making his sun-kissed robe wave under him. The cloth gave off a soft, glowing bronze hue that reflected throughout the classroom.
"This ancient castle surprisingly still stands. Its construction done long ago, probably thousands of years before the Sundering of the Titans, before the great famine, and before the birth of Our Highnesses and the unification of Equestria!" the old stallion cried, excitement building with his every word.
The his fiery temper began to simmer as his shoulders slackened and relaxed. "Many scholars believe that the Gelding Hold Keep was built long before Tamilane the Greater. Some may even say that the castle was built by the Precursors or some forgotten indigenous race and that Tamilane discovered the remains of the castle and rebuilt it. Still others say it was built by Tamilane's ancestors over hundreds of years. But they all agree that no one may ever truly know for certain." The tale teller shrugged, giving a small pout and a raising of the eyebrows for good measure.
The small fillies and colts their gaze on the aged stallion as he lightly shook his hoof full of purple powder.
He then edged himself away from the foals and gazed intensely upon the floor in front of him. "Now not many ponies have been able to travel to the old keep. Why? Because they'd have to venture through the Everfree Forest or the Stone Fang Peaks to get to the castle from here." He pointed his hoof to the ground, as though to remind his audience that his words had only carried their thoughts to the ancient castle, not their bodies.
"Sadly, there are no pictures or paintings of Gelding Hold. That means that I'll have to make do with a bit of magic dust."
The stallion then cracked a sly grin as he rose his hoof into the air and threw the powder onto the floor, only just a few feet away from the little foals. The children gasped in awe as they scooted backwards on their reading carpet. The powder exploded into a billowing plume of bright purple smoke. The tale teller then wrapped his hooves around the cloud and began to shape the fluffy haze as if it were wet clay. With age long practice and fine memory, he used his hooves and brushed, pushed, pulled, and squished the clouds around and about to form a large purple castle floating barely two feet off the ground.
He glanced at the children laid out on the floor. All were smiling and staring at the big magenta castle. To them, it looked like a big floating playhouse.
The old stallion grinned, satisfied. "This castle was supposedly made by earth ponies. They were magnificent farmers and craftsmen of the time, growing the best of crops and hewing the ugliest hunk of granite into a beautiful statue in a matter of days."
He pointed one hoof towards the castle. "It also housed many of the greatest warriors of pre-Equestrian history, many of whi-" The frail story teller's eager history lesson was interrupted by a small yellow hoof rising from the crowd of foals.
A small yellow filly with a scarlet mane waved her hoof rapidly in the air, hoping to grab the story teller's attention.
"Yes, Magenta?" the tale teller asked in his cheery, scruffy voice, motioning his hoof to the young yellow filly to prompt her to ask her question.
"Has anyone you've known been to the castle?" she squeaked.
"Why yes, my dear, there have been ponies who've trave...eh..." His voice broke as he slowly caught the gaze of the faded but still very visible scar on his right leg, just barely peeking out from under his robed sleeve.
A little colt coughed to break the silence.
"-uh, traveled to the castle, many of whom I've known as colleagues," he concluded with a confident pose. "I myself once had the pleasure of visiting the ruins a very, very long time ago." His eyes widened slightly as he accentuated that second "very."
"Even though it was a very long trek through the Everfree Forest, it was surely a sight that was very well worth seeing," He injected as much cheer as he could in the reassurance, trying to make up for the earlier awkward silence.
"But isn't the Everfree Forest dan- dange- dangeror-" The yellow filly found difficulty with saying the word.
"Dangerous?" offered a light blue colt.
"Yeah, that. My mommy says that the forest is a bad place filled with mean and scary monsters," insisted the little filly as her magenta mane bounced with her uneven vocal tone.
"Well I had a big group of big tough explorers with me when we visited the ruins, my dear," The story teller cooed as he dipped his head a little.
"Oh," Magenta answered, enlightened.
"Now, where was I?" the bronze stallion said to himself.
"You were talking about the ponies that lived in the castle, grand-father." The teacher smiled as she reminded him with her motherly voice.
"Ah yes!" exclaimed the old one as he cocked his eyebrows and pointed his hoof up towards the invisible light bulb that flashed above his head.
"The castle housed many great warriors of pre-Equestrian history, brave warriors like Kochylis Stonebreaker, Ebleva Farsight, Polemo Flash, and countless others no less notable than they. Many warriors were artists, musicians, carpenters, writers, farmers, and architects as well. All swo-" He stopped as he was interrupted again by the same yellow filly with her hoof raised high. His eyes briefly looked up to the ceiling of the school house as he silently beseeched the Princesses for patience.
Only when this communion was complete did he ask, in a calm voice and with a raised brow, "Yes, Magenta?"
"I thought warriors were only good at fighting?" she asked, a quizzical frown stamped on her face.
"Well being a warrior doesn't mean you can't be good at other things," A light green colt with a pickle and barrel cutie mark called out.
"That's absolutely true, Pickle. Having a job as a warrior doesn't mean that you can't do other things. Look at the royal guard for instance, even though they may take their jobs seriously, they might like to play games with their friends and..."
He stopped as the fillies were flummoxedly frowning at him as though he were crazy. He then remembered his encounters with a few off-duty guard ponies in Canterlot and how stiff and boring they could be. His face drooped as he ceded the point. "Okay, maybe not the royal guard, but you understand what I'm trying to say, yes?"
Magenta nodded, as did a few other fillies and colts scattered across the floor.
The bronze stallion then stiffened his body, mouth open and ready to speak, eyes darting left to right, waiting for another question to arise. Finding the room completely quiet save for the occasional shuffle, he continued on with his story. "The ponies of Gelding Hold Keep sworn allegiance to the mighty earth pony Lord Tamilane the Greater. The Lord was the leading force of the Great Pony Alliance. His allegiance brought all of ponykind earth pony, pegasus, and unicorn under one blue and yellow banner." He said in a proud tone as he began to edge towards a chair.
A purple filly rose her hoof. "What was the name of Tamilane's country? Was it still called Equestria back then?"
"Well Amara, back then there weren't any countries, they all were small separate city-states," answered the old stallion. He paused for a moment and brought a hoof to his bearded chin. "Come to think of it, I don't remember the name of the continent that they resided on before the founding of the name 'Equestria'..."
He shrugged and pressed onwards. "Anyways, the true name of the city that Tamilane ruled over has been forgotten since the Sundering of the Titans..." He pulled his auburn cloak over his mouth with an evil expression blaring over the brown cloth. "...and the division of the Pony Alliance that followed the great famine." He stood stout as if he were a royal guard with his hoof in salute. "But there are some folklore that had been passed down to generation to generation that say the name of the city really was..." He paused for a dramatic moment as the childrens eyes slightly dilated. " 'Aspidia' " He waved his legs around the image of the whole classroom as if he were rubbing against a tall invisible desk, making a few of the foals to briefly giggle at his silliness.
He was enjoying the laughter and smiling faces. But just then he caught a glimpse from outside the window in the corner of his eye. His thought his old mind was playing tricks on him again, but this time it felt like that ghost from his past was actually... He frowned and shook his head lightly, trying to shake the memories away, but to no avail. The small trickle of recollection instead swelled into a raging river.
The old stallion tilted his head and sighed as he stared at something only he could see, as though reminiscing about something very dear he had lost forever. Meanwhile, the children kept staring on, blinking every so often.
"Why does he do that?" A filly whispered.
"I think he's having his special grampa moments." Another whispered back.
Snapping back to reality, he cleared his throat and continued. "The city state of Apsidia acted as the leading power over the neighboring pony kingdoms. Under the glorious banner of blue and yellow was the unicorn kingdom of Perlircia and the cloudmongering pegasus tribes of Alogos.
"Imagine Aspidia being the Canterlot of Pre-Equestria," he concluded as he rolled his left hoof in the air.
Another small filly raised her hoof. "Have you ever met Tamilane?"
The rest of the class laughed, making the poor filly shrivel up in embarrassment. The story teller tilted his head and frowned as he stood up from his seat. Standing relatively close to the little hunched filly, he took a hoof and pushed the teary filly's chin gently upwards until they were eye-to-eye.
"Oh, my dear, no. I may look it, but I am not that old. But don't worry," he soothed, pulling a large lollipop from his robe and handing it to the sniffling filly. "Now don't be down on yourself, it was a good question nonetheless."
The little filly's eyes widened and sparkled as she saw the huge lollipop, sending a warm fuzzy feeling down the tale teller's old creaky body.
He patted her head as he walked back to his chair. His bald head started to sweat as his face was marked with angst. The poor stallion looked strangely guilty. "I...hmm." He struggled, trying to push his memories away.
An idea then flashed in his head.
"How about I answer your question through another story that is related to the castle?" He lied behind his grin.
"Okay," the filly gleefully said, bringing her full attention to him as she waited for this next tale.
"Right." He cleared his throat and rolled his stiff neck muscles. The archaic stallion sat still as he squinted towards the floor, as though the story he had reiterated throughout his life had been written on the rug. He then looked up to his audience with a confident face.
He began softly, dramatically. "'Twas morning in the Old kingdom of Aspidia, the sun was shining a golden hue that blanketed the land. The grassy plain surrounding the mountainside castle was littered with huge scorch marks and splintered debris of fallen trees." He moved his right hoof over the image of the imaginary battlefield that stood before him.
"The bright sky rained fire and clay, the air was filled with the thunderous booms of the war drums." Slowly, the little ponies attention began to fade into boredom. Many of whom were staring at the clock, waiting for that ringing bell to freedom.
As the little foals sat, many ignoring the story, they daydreamed of their own little adventures. Their imaginations ran freely as he continued his tale, their minds barely acknowledging his words. The storyteller carried on with his story, unconscious of his bored audience's fake interest.
The tale teller pointed to his eyes. "Their beady eyes blazed with fiery conquest as they marched toward the castle's mighty walls, iron shields gleaming and ivory tusks shining." He clutched imaginary armaments in his forelegs.
The children again dozed off into their fantasy world of recess, school gossip, dragons and knights, and heroic deeds that were barely related to the old stallion's story.
"They collided like two walls of steel, smashing into each other with utmost fury! The ponies slashed, bucked, and dashed in full might with their glowing swords and hammers, striking savagely at the enemy, yet left no wounds on their attackers. Instead these weapons surged through the enemies' exposed bodies, blasting the sensation of pain and fear into their beastly hides. Each slash that broke through their armor streaked through the flesh with searing pain, only to be pulled away without a trace. These enchanted weapons attacked the battle-hardened spirit of the beasts, like a sledgehammer splinters the wooden foundation of a house." The old stallion recited from memory as he fought a valiant battle against his invisible foe.
The children's eyes were drawn to the action of the story, their brows elevating as he continued his epic.
"One by one, the beasts fled in panic across the ruined grassland and into the Everfree Forest. The brutes' eyes, once filled with burning excitement of battle and lust for conquest, were now awash with fear and confusion." His own eyes widened in sympathy for the bygone brutes.
"The defenders were showing signs of exhaustion as the flood of the fuzzy warmongering beasts swarmed through the shattered gates. Many of the weakened knights fled with the very little strength left in them. Suddenly a loud rumble came from underground, the middle of the stone plaza shook. Both forces retreated from the vibrating battlefield as they both prepared themselves for the thing that lurked below-"
He was interrupted by a very loud bell as it echoed from outside.
*Ding Ding Ding*
The old stallion sighed in relief.
It was the end of the school day.
All of the little foals moaned about the exciting unfinished story as they got up from the reading carpet and sped towards their desks. Gathering all of their books and utensils, they left the school, their teacher calling out the weekend assignments as they raced towards their two days of freedom.
The teacher walked towards the old stallion waving goodbye to the little ones. The last student left the school house, saying thank you for the story behind the lollipop that was the size of her head.
"Well that wasn't so bad. Was it, Taby?" he asked his great-great-granddaughter. He pulled out a hoofkerchief from his robe and wiped away the sweat that beaded on his balding forehead, brushing a few of his last gray hairs into place.
"I'm glad that you're alright, Grampa," The tan pony said with relief. "I was hoping that you wouldn't keel over from telling your stories. Thankfully, you didn't get to the most exciting parts yet."
of her grandfather's exhaustion after telling and reenacting some amazing stories, performing them with such passion and fluidity, as if he had been there himself.
"You are okay, right, Grampa?" Tabitha asked with a concerned look on her face as she brushed some of her white mane to the side.
"Oh yes, I'm fine, dear. I just need to take a nap," he replied in a low tired voice as he looked down. His head began to lower as his eyes slowly drooped down. His tired old body began to fall into a sleepy abyss. He then began to sleep upright, snoring and drooling over his beard.
A muffled voice called out, "Grampa? Are you sure you're okay?"
The old stallion was then grasped by his grand-daughter. "Grampa!"
The old stallion jolted with a nasal grunt. "Nuargh!, Taby, you know that you shouldn't startle me like that, sweetie." There was a tinge of annoyance carried in his voice, emphasized by his slight frown.
"I'm sorry Grampa, but it looked as if you were about to fall over," noted Tabitha in her motherly voice. "Maybe you should go home and rest."
"Alright, I'ma gettin, I'ma getting," he grumbled humorously as he was shoved himself towards the door. His granddaughter stood by and watched with a tiny grin.
The story teller teller turned around at the door entrance. "Buh-bye, sweetie." A gleeful smile covered his face, his eyebrows raised in mirth, wrinkling his old bronze forehead.
As he walked out into the sunny day, his smile drooped to a tired slump. He had trouble trying to keep his eyes open as sleep crept behind his sight.
"Bye, I'll be visiting you tomorrow at Canterlot, okay?" Tabitha called as the old stallion walked out of the school house and into the carriage awaiting for him outside.
"Okay, dear!" A muffled voice answered from outside.
"Sir, Your carriage to Canterlot is ready." The coachpony said with a smile under his oversized top hat while opening the carriage door.
"Thank you my good sir." He lightly grumbled behind his half opened eyes.
The old stallion jumped into the black carriage and fell on top of the seat. As soon as he laid down onto the comfortable seat cushions, the carriage began to move. Slowly the old stallion started to fall into the deep void of his dreams. The last sounds he heard before blacking out were the bumps and rocks that hit the carriages wheels.
*Thrum-dum-dum*
*Thrum-dum-bum*
*Creak* *Thrum-bum-bum* *Swoosh*
The thundering sounds of the war drums resounded throughout the lower grass plains as the large mass of ebony and auburn slowly drew closer to the stone bastion. The ground rumbled more and more as the large sea of crude metal and blotchy fur marched toward the castle. Pebbles and dust vibrated off the sides of the battlement walls. The castle flagpoles flew the colors of blue and yellow. Ironclad warriors with gleaming shields lined the fortress walls, awaiting the start of what would later be known as the 7th Battle of Gelding Hold Keep.
Chapter 2: Battle of GeldingHold Keep Part.1
//-----------------------------
// Chapter 2: Battle of Gelding Hold Keep Part.1
//-----------------------------
*Thrum-bum-bum-dum-bum*
The loud booming of the war drums and the thundering drone of the war horns echoed across the land as projectiles flew across the bright blue sky. The horde of black and brown stood barely five miles away from the castle, slowly creeping on its stone prey. Standing against the horde were the high stone walls and the legions of steel clad ponies that stood on them. Flags and banners of yellow and blue waved proudly in strong winds as they stood along the top of the thick castle walls. Gigantic glowing azure orbs bolted past the banners and over the walls like blue misty ravens shooting across the sky.
"Pull!" a voice echoed from the battlement walls.
*Clack!**Creak* *Swoosh*
The line trebuchets in the main courtyard creaked loudly as they launched their enchanted payload. Bright blue mist balls streamed across the sky towards the rustling black horde. Some defenders could hear loud squealing and yelling from the mob as the magic missiles hit with bright splashes of searing energy.
Moments later a loud bellowing voice sounded from the clamorous mob, "Fire!"
The deafening sound of catapult arms slapping against the wooden stoppers resounded across the fields. Large brown and tan balls of mud and clay shot out from the crude catapults, chunks of mud trailing behind them as they spattered down across the fields. The great mud balls tore through the wind as they headed towards the gray bastion.
"Shields up! Brace yourselves!" the captains called as the clay spheres drew closer. A sea of shimmering blue and gleaming steel shields rose up from the top of the walls. The soldiers braced themselves as they lifted their shields up towards the sky. A few seconds passed, each defender hoping to their ancestors that he wouldn't get hit. In that time, the only sounds were the loud booming of the war drums and the quiet clatter of metal brushing against metal.
During the last few moments, both were drowned out by the deafening howl of enormous objects moving far faster than they had any right to.
*Schoom**Bash!*
Thundering thuds and crashes came at random as the battlements were pelted by the shower of large clay balls. Ponies ducked under whatever they could find with eyes clenched and prayers whispered. Thundering booms and thuds shook the stone beneath their hooves as the mud balls smacked against the walls. An unlucky few were knocked into the courtyard below, the loud crashing of shields and metal mixing with their yelps and screams.
In the courtyard, the foot soldiers posted there pulled off their helmets and began using them to dig aggressively into the recently formed mounds of mud and clay. Once they found their groaning, dirt-covered comrades, they started pulling their weakened bodies from their muddy traps. Many of the crushed ponies were unconscious from shock and pain, making the rescuers worry even more as they saw the damage done.
Voices of soldiers echoed from below, and above them those foolish enough to take their eyes off the enemy looked down to watch their mud covered colleagues get dragged to the infirmaries.
"Load!" a captain yelled from below as the creaky trebuchets retracted their long wooden arms again.
************************
The war drums echoed throughout the great stone halls of the fortress as soldiers and civilians scrambled about, frantically trying to find something useful to do. Boxes and wagons were being dragged across the polished floors towards the entrances as soldiers scrambled through the rooms in search of any abandoned ponies.
A young bronze colored stallion was galloping through the hall in a panic, his short black wavy locks drifting through the wind as he sped past the bustling crowds. His small curled goatee fluttered left to right as he dodged the crowd with utmost care. His fine bronze chain link robe, each link the size of an ant, shook and rattled with his every step. On the stallion's back was an overstuffed knapsack of scrolls and books that bounced around as he ran.
He was stopped as a soldier caught his shoulder. "You there, scholar! You're not supposed to be here, we're evacuating the arcane tower and the far eastern wings. You need to get to the catacombs as quickly as possible!"
The young stallion was about to conjure up his excuse, but was preempted by a deep, formal, and above all loud voice. "Parthel, come to me, I need your assistance," an intimidatingly large light blue unicorn called out. His mouth moved behind his smooth, wavy beard and the oversized purple hat accorded only to the greatest magi, his hoof motioning the young stallion towards him. The mage turned his head towards the guard. His eyes were covered by his frown and his bushy eyebrows, which often made ponies wonder whether or not he could even see.
The middle aged blue unicorn was garbed in a dark blue silk robe with golden trim. Bright yellow magical hieroglyphs blanketed the body of the robe. A large brass-beaded necklace hung heavily around the unicorn's neck beneath a jet black beard where stray gray hairs were beginning to show themselves. The brass beads all had magical runes deeply engraved all around their shining spherical bodies, some glowing different colors depending on how they were engraved. But aside all of the pleasant attire, the most noticeable trait on this dignitary was his ungodly bushy eyebrows that covered the majority of his eyes.
The soldier bowed his head slightly to the dignified figure, eyes looking at the floor. "But sir, we were ordered by our lord to evacuate this wing. Please, I insist that you heed our lord's advice."
A loud clank resonated from the soldier's helmet as the intimidating unicorn magically smacked him with his strange wooden staff.
"Boy, I heard him once already, I don't need to be told again," he spat. His frowning eyes pierced through the soldier's body as the warrior pulled his steel helmet back from his eyes.
"I will be taking the scholar with me to assist me in locking the arcane archives and preparing the surrounding area for possible breaches. Now, would you kindly take your hoof off of him? Time is of the essence!" the unicorn bellowed as he struck the bottom of his staff into the ground.
"Uh- Yes, Grand Mage Vesuvius." The soldier quickly bowed his head and ran off to evacuate more cooperative, less volatile ponies.
The bearded unicorn looked at Parthel with a smirk and nudged his head towards the stairs before walking towards them casually.
Parthel followed anxiously up the stairs, searching around him as busy ponies sprinted across the halls. "But Master, shouldn't we be going to the catacombs? I've got the most important documents and scroll in here." He gestured towards his knapsack.
"Those won't be necessary," the mage answered casually as he ever spoke. His head was stiffer than the trunk of a ancient tree as he was slowly strolling up the stairs. Echoes of battle resonated through the thick stone walls as Parthel looked at the grand master in worry.
"B-but the war outside! We need to protect these books! In the wrong hooves they can-"
Vesuvius motioned his staff towards Parthel's mouth. "This is the third battle this year," he noted. "I'm very confident that the castle will hold and the Aspidians will be the victors again."
Parthel took a deep breath* as he was about to speak, only to be once again beaten to the punch by his master. "Another thing, Parthel." He looked into the bronze earth pony's eyes. "You really mustn't panic like this all the time, it is not healthy for a young lad like yourself."
His brows crunched together briefly, Parthel's concerns about the books finally registering. "Also, about the books, why do you insist we save only a few when we can save them all?" His beard almost completely concealed his small smirk as he stared straight ahead.
"What do you mean?" The bronze stallion looked at the magi* with a very confused facial expression.
"You'll see. Let's just hope that little twerp of a mechanic is still fumbling about in the arcane library," the unicorn mumbled confidently. One bushy brow cocked, revealing an eye, as he looked upwards to the staircase ceiling.
Parthel edged his head away from the mage and looked out a passing window. He saw the black flood slowly move closer towards the castle walls as bright splashes of cyan and blue exploded randomly in its ranks. The invaders were just about one mile away castle.
***********************
"Pull!" The captain yelled again from the walls.
Loud clacking and creaking resonated from behind again as the bright bolts shot over the castle walls.
"Shields! Now!" a bellowing voice yelled out as they were once more being bombarded with the wretched magical spheres.
The pig men halted their march and drew up crude metal and wooden box shields over their bulky bodies. The siege workers threw themselves behind their siege engines as they waited for the horrid balls of bright mist to fall to earth.
*ZZZOOOOM* *BOOM!*
Heavy magical explosions roared and erupted in the shielded ranks, engulfing small groups of their boar brethren in a searing blue splash of magic. The bright splashes quickly subsided, leaving little flocks of retreating chickens and sheep clad in oversized armor.
The brutes waited as they listened for their own catapults' counterattack and the launch their own missiles of destruction. A few moments later, the loud clacking of their own siege engines resonated as the huge clay balls took flight. The mud splattered on the boars' shields as the brown balls in the sky flew overhead.
"Push forward! Do not stop until we reach the walls!" one of the Badland Boars roared out from between his large ivory tusks.
"The Chieftain want them alive! More slaves for the horde!" a Boar Warlord bellowed as he swung his giant club towards the castle.
The pig men shouted out a loud "Horaah!" before lowering their shields and quickened their pace.
Their crudely made iron armor gave off a dull sheen as their shields lowered and let the summer sun spill over them once more. Crude helms with segments cut out of the back displayed their bright war manes and long mohawks. Their ivory tusks gleamed on their red-painted faces, their eyes burned with fiery rage and the unquenchable lust for conquest as they trudged onwards. Many brandished their war clubs and axes as they rumbled across the scorched grassland.
A giant bell was struck behind the advancing mob, signaling the all out charge to the castle's main gate.
Upon hearing the resonating sound, the Badland boars felt the tidal wave of adrenaline gush through their veins as they charged forward with an earth shaking battle cry: "Vo'k gaz Maghu'ul!" None Shall Stand!
**************************
The black mob swarmed towards the keep, shaking the walls as dust and pebbles bounced off the edges. The winds carried the loud roar of charging boar men as the defenders stood nervously atop their stone bastion. The brutes were closing in quickly while the foot soldiers in the courtyard below frantically ran to the main gate.
"Ready the ballistas!" a voice shouted from afar. As other captains down the wall repeated the order, lightly armored ponies with spears on their backs pulled large boxes out of the armory entranceway.
Small pockets of ponies scattered on the wall as they dragged the heavy boxes onto the walls. Once placed on the turret stands, the ponies pulled ropes off of the boxes. The wooden walls fell revealing a giant mess of mechanical devices and doohickeys. The pieces of metal and wood were automatically moving and creaking into place, forming a brass ballista. Each of the ballistas contained four enchanted spears, each spear being housed in their own launch strip. This made each ballista resemble four huge metalcrossbows stuck on top of each other.
The ponies quickly threw the spears into their housings and cranked the large crossbows like a dangerous jack-in-the-box.
"Ballistas ready!" several voices yelled out across the battlements.
A captain clad in plate armor and winged helm thrust his hoof towards the incoming enemy. "Fire!"
*Clink**TWANG*
The piercing sound of metallic twangs ripped through the air as all of the ballistas simultaneously launched their glowing spears.
Down below, the pig men saw the ground in front of them go dark. Looking up only to see a wall of whistling spears cover the great blue sky. They completely halted their advance and drew up their shields to defend themselves from this new threat. The thunderous sound of metal colliding with their crudely made shields boomed across the plains as the metal storm fell upon them. Painful yelps resounded all over the ranks as many of the warriors' defenses were pierced through. Many made the mistake of pulling their shields up too high, revealing their legs. Once the thunder of steel rain subsided, the spear-covered shield walls were lowered. The wounded groaned loudly as they clutched at wounds that, bizarrely, weren't there.
One boarish warlord who was hit in the chest lay on the ground in shock. His heart was rapidly beating as he slowly clasped the shaft of the spear that impaled his chest and quickly pulled. Searing pain shot through his whole body as the long spearhead slid out. His eyes squeezed shut, repressing the cold feeling of fear from his mind. He probed with his chest with his thick hands, expecting to feel the hot liquid stream out of his body... but he felt nothing other than the hole that pierced his iron breastplate.
Fear began to creep on him again, and again he suppressed it, replacing it with anger. Checking that he hadn't passed on into the spirit world, he slowly opened his eyes. He was still on the debris-littered battlefield, and his troops that surrounded him were staring at him while still holding their spear rittled shields up in the air. The warlord frowned in bewilderment as he slowly brought his attention to the hole in his breastplate. He prepared for the worst as he lifted the plate above his chest, expecting to see the gore pooling under it. But instead, he saw his normal thumping hairy chest with a small hole of light over his left breast. His heart beat then started to gradually slow down as he looked at the spear in his other hand, the glowing head showing only a few chip marks on the tip and a few deep scratches.
The warlord breathed in deeply as he forced himself up to his feet. His body was trembling uncontrollably as he brushed off the grass from his armor and grabbed his horned helmet.
He then looked at his warriors. "F-forward you stupid fools! The battle is not won yet!" he stuttered loudly as he took the wooden end of the spear and swung at the stupid brutes. The spear broke into two as it collided with one boars helmet, the blockheaded boar under it took no notice of it.
The warlord shook himself off and briefly stared at the spear. "Take these spears and throw them back! Make them know that their we don't fear their machines!"
The boar warriors grinned mischievously at each other as they ripped the spears off their shields with ease. The warriors snapped back into their battle rage as they howled and sprinted towards the crowded walls.
The warlord stood there with his thick hand over the spear hole in his armor plate, ignoring the battle as he contemplated on what had just happened. He thought about the feeling he experienced when the spear pierced his body. "Why did I fall so easily?!" He thought to himself, his anger began to increase at the thought of it. "Years of battle in the wastelands and this blasted toothpick brings me down like a weak pup..." The warlord took a last look of the spear head and chucked it into the ground.
His mind was avoiding the truth of why he was pinned down. When he was hit with the enchanted spear, he had a terrifying sensation instantly shoot through his body. Not the sensation of death creeping up on him but another feeling. A feeling that the veteran of countless campaigns hadn't felt since he was a young pup. An urge to run home and cry.
The warlord snarled loudly and shook the dishonorable thoughts out of his head as he followed his comrades back into battle.
