Cities of Equestriaby UnicodingUnicornChaptersCanterlotManehattenCloudsdaleTrottinghamCanterlotOnce upon a time there stood a Mountain. It was unlike the others, though, for it jutted out from the lush green land around like a spear point through the skin, far away from any of its own brethren. And below the mountain the wide plains and rolling hills spread, amongst which stood a Forest. This Forest, too, was unlike any of its kin, for it grew wild and ever free, its will bowing to the commands of no creature. And in the forest there sat a castle, from which ruled two sisters, one of whom raised the Sun and the other the Moon, the combined Harmony of their magic keeping away the every constant encroachments of the Forest. And they ruled the four borders of their land in an era of golden peace. But good tidings are not ones that last, for on one fateful day, the younger fell to forces of darkness and shadow that are greed and temptation, cast away her concern for her subjects and rose up against the elder in a bloody coup that the Night may rule eternal and evermore. On that longest night, the forces of Light and Dark did battle, and as it was written in the Book of Law before the Dawn of Time, though Darkness may overcome the Light in battles the forces of good will tide over in the very end, and it was inevitably such that the younger sister was banished for fifty score years to the very plane of her own element. Though the war was won and the delicate balance of day and night restored, chaos still reigned in the land down below. The harmony of the Magic of the Two Sisters, once proud and unbreakable, lay in shambles after the traitorous backstab of one upon the other, and the Forest began to reclaim that which was once part of it. As the nation embroiled itself in turmoil over the loss of half its reigning monarchy, the elder and her court sought to flee from the dregs of the past such that they may face the challenges of the future. With the castle quickly falling to the irresistible pull of the wild and the citizens of the land calling for a place that they can look up to and rally upon in this time of great need, the elder searched from the shores of the East to the glades of the West for a shared place where both the commoner, and the aristocrat could cast their eyes upon and feel a common spirit burning inside. And their gaze fell upon the Mountain. Through all this chaos and strife, the Mountain had gazed on, never flinching, always observing. Its lofty gaze fell upon the four corners of the nation, from the frozen north to the burning south and in turn, others have gazed upon its looming shadow. Upon the Mountain they started to build. Up upon the Mountain they did built, towers upon soaring towers jutting out from the sheer side of the mountain, massive constructs seeming to defy the very laws of physics themselves, the product of the unity of the ingenuity and hard labour of the children of the Earth, the magic of the wielders of the Ether and the skill of the spawn of the Sky, as their peaks raced hand in hand with the hopes and dreams of every last soul in the nation. And the elder moved her court to this series of towers and proclaimed it the Capitol of the land. Yet the passage of dark days heralded the passage of even darker days to come. During this period, the nation, once cohesive and strong, had splintered into small warring factions, each one individual, yet all alike in one common goal: To keep surviving in what seemed like the end of days. The fires of hardship burned stronger than before, and the elder and her court struggled through. Wars were fought, diplomacies were negotiated, minds swayed and wills cowed as bit by bit, more and more came under the banner of the nation we now know as Equestria. Time passed, the fall of the younger soon faded into the legends of the land, yet the city grew stronger than ever, carving itself further into the recesses of the Mountain, under the always ever watchful eyes of the original towers. Migrants came and left, received titles and lost holdings, as a long and sprawling aristocracy carved itself out from the ashes of the fallen monarchy. And it was such that the pony nation, like a phoenix arising anew from the ashes of its previous existence, pulled itself together from one of the darkest days in collective memory and burned brighter than before, a beacon of peace and harmony to the rest of the world. Yet, through all of this, the elder still remains ever watchful, ever waiting, in her highest tower, the one with the clearest view of the Moon upon the Coming of the Night after the Cessation of the Court of the Day, for the eventual arrival of the one who truly matters to the aching heart buried underneath the cold facade of the Sun Princess of Equestria. This is the Story of the City on the Side of the Mountain, the City of Royal Nobility. Canterlot. But this isn't just a story of what has been done, of how we have built ourselves upon the shoulders of our ancestors, and how we should admire their valiant efforts. For even to this day, through all the progress this society has made, anywhere in the four borders of this fair land of Equestria, you can always cast your sight upon the horizon and gaze upon the ever present shadow of the Lone Mountain and see it blazing in all of its opulent glory. If you do so, dear reader, please remind yourself, this is what your forebears and fellow ponies have done. Take a moment to reflect, and wonder, what have you done? Author's Note This is my first story here, helpful comments are appreciated. If you like it, I will do more on other cities. ManehattenThis City began like so many others, a loose cluster of homes and families in the troubled times of desperate struggle after the Banishment of the Younger of the Two Sisters. It was founded on the shore of the Great Eastern Sea, for it was from the Sea that the Hamlet drew its lifeblood from, and it was to the Sea that Things of the Hamlet did return. Raiders and warlords bothered not the Hamlet, for it was of little significance to them, and it was such that in a state of quiet existence did decades pass. Time passed as it always does, and under the efforts of the Elder of the Two Sisters, the land slowly stitched close the wounds of the past and became a Nation once more. The Hamlet, like all the others, soon fell under the Banner of Equestria, yet life passed as it always had. Life was good and the harvest of the Sea was bountiful, for the reluctance to shed blood will always be rewarded, as dictated by the Book of Law before the Dawn of Time. And so it was such that the inhabitants of the Hamlet prospered and generations rose and fell. As always, promises of wealth and fortune draw creatures of all shapes and sizes towards the source. Ponies came pouring into the Hamlet, building homes and constructing businesses, all structured around the never-ending cycle of generosity to and generosity in kind between the Sea and the Hamlet. Evil things, too, came, but were quickly dispatched by the fledgling nation's military, for as much as you cannot have good without evil, you cannot have evil without good. And it was such that the Hamlet grew and expanded, becoming a Town. So yet more decades passed and the young nation became the State of Equestria. There was once an old Haysian saying, "When the winds of change blow, some may build walls, but the wise ones build windmills." And the winds of change did blow, for on a fateful day centuries after that first cluster of houses on the edge of the Great Eastern Sea, the Ships came. They were towering constructs of wood and cloth, powered by the forces of nature and the will of the creatures controlling them alike, constructed by a races not gifted by the Land with the Gift of Magic, bringing Trade and Progress from Lands beyond the East Sea. And Trade and Progress the State of Equestria did accept with open and willing arms, so it was such that Surveyors and Prospectors of the Royal Court scoured the Lands of the East from the Frozen North to the Scorching South, in search of places for Receptacles of this new found Change to be built. And so it was such that the Windmill for the Winds of Change from the East was built in the Town. The Winds of Change benefit those who harness them. The Town, with its deep waters and peaceful populace, drew great reward from the welcoming of these new neighbours. Trade flowed freely, the Technology of the East mingling with the Magic of the West, advancing both races by great leaps and bounds. The Port of the Town became the Focus of the East, for it brought great wealth and likewise gave bountiful riches upon its partners in trade, for all ye who receive shall too give. And so centuries past and the collaboration between the State of the West and the Nations of the East grew stronger, reaching forth to new heights in a Golden Age of Friendship and Harmony. It is only inevitable for Time to pass. The foolish may choose to resist its passage, but the wise will harness it for the better. And the inhabitants of the Town with the Port were wise. Time brought Progress, which brought about the strengthening of Trade, growing upwards and upwards in a spiral that seemed to reach up to the infinite limits of the sky. Haysians have a lot of sayings, "those who harness not progress are foolish". The Port grew, expanding its accommodations and facilities, welcoming more of those great Ships, now clad in iron and powered by the fumes of coal or the spark of magic, than those First Founders who commissioned the Port could ever have hoped to dream of. And so it was such that the Port grew, and that the Town with the Port became the Port with the Town. The adage that wealth and fortune attract people is still not unfounded even in this present day. As the Wealth of the Port with the Town grew, migrants came. They came from different backgrounds, from the refuge escaping the war-torn country from whence he grew, or the struggling entrepreneur looking to make it big for the final time, or the rich businessman looking to invest in new ventures. Yet, diverse as they were, it all mattered not, for in this new Town they were one and the same, a vast horde from the Eight Directions of the Horizon, pouring into the Town and swelling it to proportions more enormous than before. And so it was such that the Town grew into a City, the Port becoming but a part of this new and dynamic world within a world. Progress and Time walk hand in hand. With the Trade that had poured so freely into the Port of the City, came the Concept of Electricity from the Lands of the East. And with Progress comes Change. For the first time in Millennia, the land of Equestria lit up under the watchful gaze of the stars and Moon above, and ponies began to live in the Night. Being the Receptacle of Trade and Progress, the City led in the forefront, and blazed up like fire upon a pyre. With wealth comes art, and the City was a wealthy one. Legendary figures destined to be imprinted forever into the collective lore of the people of the City, of bosses at the head of corporations, masters of wit and skilful manipulation in the cutthroat world of business, of the voices of singers blessed with the Gift of Music, of the soulful tunes of jazz and the bouncing beats of music yet to come. And so it is like this that centuries have passed and will continue to pass. For this is the story of the City of Lights and Legends, Manehatten. And so it is such that if you walk under the blaze that is the Lights of the City of Lights and Legends, you walk among the Legends themselves. Do take this moment, fair reader, and wonder: What will you do with this Life? Author's Note I'm now accepting suggestions for the next city. CloudsdaleThe Children of the Sky are a strange race, quick to charge and war-like, yet fiercely loyal and caring towards their own. Before the Age of Expansion, the tribe of the Winged Ones lived in vast clusters of clouds, far above the solid ground in the Sky which they called home. This City began like so many, first a tiny Hamlet of cloud homes. This was in the era before the Two Sisters, the time where the Three Tribes still fought and disputed, when the world was still reeling from being the mere plaything of a mad personification of Chaos. It was like any of the others, the homes of an extended family tied to some farmers of the Sons and Daughters of the Earth. Even in a time of Dispute and Strife, the Tribes were still forced to rely on each other, for it was Friendship and Harmony open which these three races where built, not the wiles of Chaos and Discord. And so time passed as it always had even as the Three Tribes bickered, quarrelled and starved in the midst of the throes of the Great Famine. Even in the midst of this prejudice and racism, the small Hamlet of clouds and the farm below persisted. Bonds had been forged over the generations this partnership has lasted, and poor bonds they will be if they shattered so easily to this new and dreadful force. Though the farm still endured in the face of the Cold of Hatred and Prejudice, for it is by the Fire of Friendship that life may still endure, it was only by the skin of their teeth they did so, for the power of the combined hatred of the Three Tribes was great. And so it was such that life doggedly persisted on. Decades passed, and the nation of Equestria was formed. The families of the Spawn of the Sky and the Descendants of the Earth, their bonds with the strength of a hundred generations, too joined the Great Exodus from the Lands of Origins to this brave new world. So, one may ask, why is it that the story has begun when the Hamlet is doomed to be abandoned? The story of a City is not so much the story of the City itself as it is of the inhabitants who constructed it. And so it was such that a new Hamlet was formed above the new Land of Equestria. As always, the abstinence from hatred is greatly rewarded. The Hamlet and the Farm below prospered greatly, reaping bountiful after bountiful harvest. As always, promises of wealth and riches will draw beings towards the source. Migrants came, businesses were set up and a Town grew from the Hamlet, both in the Sky and under it. And the Town prospered in a new age of golden prosperity even as the Nation progressed into the Age of the Two Sisters. Yet, good times are not ones that last for eternity. One day, the bloodline of the Stewarts of the Farm finally came to an unexpected and abrupt end, for it was on that day that the Younger of the Two Sisters fell to the Forces of Darkness and in the battle between the Forces of Light and Dark the ensued, the farmstead was struck down in fiery death. Yet, the Town in the Sky survived, for the destruction was confined to the ground. With their Partners of a ten score generations gone, the people of both Towns were scattered and cast asunder to the winds, for without the roots there can be no tree. And so it was such that the Town upon the Ground crumbled to dust. Though troubles come and all may look grim and hopeless, the Children of the Sky still stick together, for it is of their nature to be loyal to one another. And so the Town in the Sky persevered on, refusing to fall into oblivion as its end should be, in the stubborn hope of better times to come. And good fortune did come, for it was after the Banishment of the Younger that the Elder contacted the inhabitants of the Town, since it was with their Experience did they master the Skills of manipulating the Weather. And experience the Elder did need, for She now had to take own the mantle of the Raising of the Moon and the Sun, and now could no longer be responsible for the Care of the Rain and the Rainbows, as she and her sister once had. And so it was such that the Race of the Sky was entrusted with the Care of the Weather and the Production of the Rainbows. The Substance Rainbows are made of is mysterious, as elusive and rare as the phenomenon that they embody, tough to manufacture and synthesise for the Children of the Sky but of little difficulty to a sufficiently learned Wielder of the Ether. But, the pegasi are as proud as they are loyal. To accept the help of another without help in return was almost unthinkable. However, there was only one another way, a way so dark and fell and horrible, that the goodness within every pony and the honour of their race won over, and the two races worked together, just as the races of the Sky and the Earth work together to bring about the very things that allow us to live the races of the Sky and Magic work together to bring about the things that make us want to live. And the Elder smiled, for this was a test, a test to see if the spirit of good within her subjects was strong enough to win over the temptation of pride and honour. And the Town was declared to produce the Weather of the Nation, for it was the Town and the Town only that had passed the test, and the Town swelled with the demand to become a City, and over the centuries it has churned out the Things that made life made living, as it always had, is doing and will continue to do. This is the story of the City in the Sky, the City of Clouds and Weather, Cloudsdale. And so, dear reader, if you are anywhere in this fair land of ours, do look up towards the sky and try to spot the great bank of clouds perpetually on the horizon. Take this opportunity to ask yourself, do you have the strength of the spirit to go through the Trials of Life, and ultimately emerge triumphant? Author's Note Does it count as a dark fic if the darkness is subverted? TrottinghamWe have already touched upon the Children of the Sky, and their City, so let us now concentrate upon their compatriots upon the Ground, the Children of the Earth, and their City. This City started like any of the others, a small Hamlet of houses clustered together, formed during the desperate times of struggle after the Banishment of the Younger of the Two Sisters. What differed was that it was not situated in the lush plains and rolling hills of the North, but the scorched deserts and parched badlands of the South. The Children of the Earth have the Gift of the Ground as much as the Children of the Sky have the Gift of the Sky. They have the ability to hear the earth, to communicate with it and all the things that grow within, to persuade, to cajole, to help. And so it was such that the inhabitants of the Hamlet eked out a peaceful existence, for the warring parties of the day could not be bothered with Lands where even the Buffalo dared not roam. Decades passed, by now, the hope of peace and sanctuary had drawn more of the Race of the Earth to the Hamlet, for it is only the strength and endurance of the Earth lent to its Children that they may endure in such conditions. Yet, the worth of peace was equal to any hardship, and so the Hamlet grew and swelled into a Town. The Banner of Equestria rode the sands of Time in the Eight Directions of the Wind, casting its shadow upon the Town. Yet, life lived on, the peace brought upon the Land by the Elder affecting not the peace that was already in the Town. But this Peace in the Other Regions brought something new, for now that the Throes of War no longer affected the Peace of the Nation, Trade within the Land opened up, for ponies could no longer worry and hoard all that they could own. And Trade did come to this Town, and the Town gave greatly to this new Trade, giving the Expertise and Skill of its inhabitants, born from the long years of tilling the Soil which Rejected Plants, and as stated in the Book of Law before the Dawn of Time, if thou give thou shalt also receive, and the Town too benefitted greatly from this new Trade, receiving food and supplies and the Expertise of the other two races, bringing the Winds of Rain upon the parched earth. And so it was such that the pressures of life in the Town did ease, but it was still such that only the toughest of the tough not of the Children of the Earth could thrive there, and it was in this state that the Town continued its quiet existence. Yet, even as much as peace exists, there must too be war, for without one you cannot have the other. And so it was such that a great host swept far from the Lands Deep South beyond the Great Salt Plains, of a people much like the Citizens of the Nation yet unlike, and the Town fell without a struggle, for ponies are a people of Peace, and it is not of their nature to war. The Elder sent an army in response, but with the Great Desert of the South in the way, the response was too slow. The population of the Town was brought under subjugation. Dissenters, regardless of the truth of the accusations, were rounded up. A great portion of their Annual Harvest was taken as tribute, yet they were pushed to demand more and yet more from the Earth. The Trade which had bolstered the Town for so long slowed down to a trickle. And so it was such that a great Famine reigned upon the Town. Even in this dark time of Sickness and Hunger, the inhabitants of the City did not give up, turning to the Hills which had cast their Shadows upon the Town for so long and dug into Them. And the Hills did cry out to them, for the Occupiers had wronged the Earth, taking more than their due, and the Earth yearned for revenge. And so the Earth sided with its Children, guiding them towards the riches hidden within it, teaching them the ways of the Mine and the Forge. And so it was such that a Resistance was formed within the depths and tunnels of the Hills themselves. The Occupiers they fought and the People they helped until the Guard of Equestria relieved the Town, for under the Elder’s eyes no Hamlet or Town or City was or is too small to be disregarded by her care. And so it was such that one of the darkest chapters of the Town’s history drew to a close, and life continued on, though the culture of the Town did not remain untouched. During the long years of Occupation, the accent and speech of the Occupiers had ingrained themselves into the populace. But the inhabitants not griped but embraced it, for it is the nature of the Children of the Earth to accept and endure, to make the best of the worst. Even to this day, the Inhabitants of the Town, wear this mark as a badge of honour, a testament to their ability to endure the harshest of the harsh and adapt. Generations lived and died, and soon a new Period of Change swept from the Lands of the East through the Port Town of the East through the Nation, advancing the Technology of the Nation by great leaps and bounds. Yet, all things come at a cost, and the Cost of Technology is Resources. The People of the Town forgot not the Resistance of the Old Days and the Mines of the Hills. And so it was such that wealth poured forth again through the Town from the Mines of the Hills, and the Town swelled to become a City. Yet, even in this new-found wealth, the City forgot not the horrors of the past and the fragility of their Experience. And so a University was commissioned with the Wealth of the City, a great campus of education and learning meant to pass the Knowledge and Experience of the Forebears to students from the four borders of the Nation and beyond. And it is in this way that the culture of the Essence of the Children of the Earth will be preserved, for their culture is that of cultivating the Life of the Land, and to heed its calls. For this is the story of the City of Stone and Ore, the City of the Earth, Trottingham. And so dear reader, wherever you are, cast your eyes southwards and see the great orange glow of the Deserts of the South. Remind yourself, of the troubles the good citizens of this fair City have faced, of how they have tided over them. Ask yourself, will you be strong enough to do the same?
CanterlotOnce upon a time there stood a Mountain. It was unlike the others, though, for it jutted out from the lush green land around like a spear point through the skin, far away from any of its own brethren. And below the mountain the wide plains and rolling hills spread, amongst which stood a Forest. This Forest, too, was unlike any of its kin, for it grew wild and ever free, its will bowing to the commands of no creature. And in the forest there sat a castle, from which ruled two sisters, one of whom raised the Sun and the other the Moon, the combined Harmony of their magic keeping away the every constant encroachments of the Forest. And they ruled the four borders of their land in an era of golden peace. But good tidings are not ones that last, for on one fateful day, the younger fell to forces of darkness and shadow that are greed and temptation, cast away her concern for her subjects and rose up against the elder in a bloody coup that the Night may rule eternal and evermore. On that longest night, the forces of Light and Dark did battle, and as it was written in the Book of Law before the Dawn of Time, though Darkness may overcome the Light in battles the forces of good will tide over in the very end, and it was inevitably such that the younger sister was banished for fifty score years to the very plane of her own element. Though the war was won and the delicate balance of day and night restored, chaos still reigned in the land down below. The harmony of the Magic of the Two Sisters, once proud and unbreakable, lay in shambles after the traitorous backstab of one upon the other, and the Forest began to reclaim that which was once part of it. As the nation embroiled itself in turmoil over the loss of half its reigning monarchy, the elder and her court sought to flee from the dregs of the past such that they may face the challenges of the future. With the castle quickly falling to the irresistible pull of the wild and the citizens of the land calling for a place that they can look up to and rally upon in this time of great need, the elder searched from the shores of the East to the glades of the West for a shared place where both the commoner, and the aristocrat could cast their eyes upon and feel a common spirit burning inside. And their gaze fell upon the Mountain. Through all this chaos and strife, the Mountain had gazed on, never flinching, always observing. Its lofty gaze fell upon the four corners of the nation, from the frozen north to the burning south and in turn, others have gazed upon its looming shadow. Upon the Mountain they started to build. Up upon the Mountain they did built, towers upon soaring towers jutting out from the sheer side of the mountain, massive constructs seeming to defy the very laws of physics themselves, the product of the unity of the ingenuity and hard labour of the children of the Earth, the magic of the wielders of the Ether and the skill of the spawn of the Sky, as their peaks raced hand in hand with the hopes and dreams of every last soul in the nation. And the elder moved her court to this series of towers and proclaimed it the Capitol of the land. Yet the passage of dark days heralded the passage of even darker days to come. During this period, the nation, once cohesive and strong, had splintered into small warring factions, each one individual, yet all alike in one common goal: To keep surviving in what seemed like the end of days. The fires of hardship burned stronger than before, and the elder and her court struggled through. Wars were fought, diplomacies were negotiated, minds swayed and wills cowed as bit by bit, more and more came under the banner of the nation we now know as Equestria. Time passed, the fall of the younger soon faded into the legends of the land, yet the city grew stronger than ever, carving itself further into the recesses of the Mountain, under the always ever watchful eyes of the original towers. Migrants came and left, received titles and lost holdings, as a long and sprawling aristocracy carved itself out from the ashes of the fallen monarchy. And it was such that the pony nation, like a phoenix arising anew from the ashes of its previous existence, pulled itself together from one of the darkest days in collective memory and burned brighter than before, a beacon of peace and harmony to the rest of the world. Yet, through all of this, the elder still remains ever watchful, ever waiting, in her highest tower, the one with the clearest view of the Moon upon the Coming of the Night after the Cessation of the Court of the Day, for the eventual arrival of the one who truly matters to the aching heart buried underneath the cold facade of the Sun Princess of Equestria. This is the Story of the City on the Side of the Mountain, the City of Royal Nobility. Canterlot. But this isn't just a story of what has been done, of how we have built ourselves upon the shoulders of our ancestors, and how we should admire their valiant efforts. For even to this day, through all the progress this society has made, anywhere in the four borders of this fair land of Equestria, you can always cast your sight upon the horizon and gaze upon the ever present shadow of the Lone Mountain and see it blazing in all of its opulent glory. If you do so, dear reader, please remind yourself, this is what your forebears and fellow ponies have done. Take a moment to reflect, and wonder, what have you done? Author's Note This is my first story here, helpful comments are appreciated. If you like it, I will do more on other cities.
ManehattenThis City began like so many others, a loose cluster of homes and families in the troubled times of desperate struggle after the Banishment of the Younger of the Two Sisters. It was founded on the shore of the Great Eastern Sea, for it was from the Sea that the Hamlet drew its lifeblood from, and it was to the Sea that Things of the Hamlet did return. Raiders and warlords bothered not the Hamlet, for it was of little significance to them, and it was such that in a state of quiet existence did decades pass. Time passed as it always does, and under the efforts of the Elder of the Two Sisters, the land slowly stitched close the wounds of the past and became a Nation once more. The Hamlet, like all the others, soon fell under the Banner of Equestria, yet life passed as it always had. Life was good and the harvest of the Sea was bountiful, for the reluctance to shed blood will always be rewarded, as dictated by the Book of Law before the Dawn of Time. And so it was such that the inhabitants of the Hamlet prospered and generations rose and fell. As always, promises of wealth and fortune draw creatures of all shapes and sizes towards the source. Ponies came pouring into the Hamlet, building homes and constructing businesses, all structured around the never-ending cycle of generosity to and generosity in kind between the Sea and the Hamlet. Evil things, too, came, but were quickly dispatched by the fledgling nation's military, for as much as you cannot have good without evil, you cannot have evil without good. And it was such that the Hamlet grew and expanded, becoming a Town. So yet more decades passed and the young nation became the State of Equestria. There was once an old Haysian saying, "When the winds of change blow, some may build walls, but the wise ones build windmills." And the winds of change did blow, for on a fateful day centuries after that first cluster of houses on the edge of the Great Eastern Sea, the Ships came. They were towering constructs of wood and cloth, powered by the forces of nature and the will of the creatures controlling them alike, constructed by a races not gifted by the Land with the Gift of Magic, bringing Trade and Progress from Lands beyond the East Sea. And Trade and Progress the State of Equestria did accept with open and willing arms, so it was such that Surveyors and Prospectors of the Royal Court scoured the Lands of the East from the Frozen North to the Scorching South, in search of places for Receptacles of this new found Change to be built. And so it was such that the Windmill for the Winds of Change from the East was built in the Town. The Winds of Change benefit those who harness them. The Town, with its deep waters and peaceful populace, drew great reward from the welcoming of these new neighbours. Trade flowed freely, the Technology of the East mingling with the Magic of the West, advancing both races by great leaps and bounds. The Port of the Town became the Focus of the East, for it brought great wealth and likewise gave bountiful riches upon its partners in trade, for all ye who receive shall too give. And so centuries past and the collaboration between the State of the West and the Nations of the East grew stronger, reaching forth to new heights in a Golden Age of Friendship and Harmony. It is only inevitable for Time to pass. The foolish may choose to resist its passage, but the wise will harness it for the better. And the inhabitants of the Town with the Port were wise. Time brought Progress, which brought about the strengthening of Trade, growing upwards and upwards in a spiral that seemed to reach up to the infinite limits of the sky. Haysians have a lot of sayings, "those who harness not progress are foolish". The Port grew, expanding its accommodations and facilities, welcoming more of those great Ships, now clad in iron and powered by the fumes of coal or the spark of magic, than those First Founders who commissioned the Port could ever have hoped to dream of. And so it was such that the Port grew, and that the Town with the Port became the Port with the Town. The adage that wealth and fortune attract people is still not unfounded even in this present day. As the Wealth of the Port with the Town grew, migrants came. They came from different backgrounds, from the refuge escaping the war-torn country from whence he grew, or the struggling entrepreneur looking to make it big for the final time, or the rich businessman looking to invest in new ventures. Yet, diverse as they were, it all mattered not, for in this new Town they were one and the same, a vast horde from the Eight Directions of the Horizon, pouring into the Town and swelling it to proportions more enormous than before. And so it was such that the Town grew into a City, the Port becoming but a part of this new and dynamic world within a world. Progress and Time walk hand in hand. With the Trade that had poured so freely into the Port of the City, came the Concept of Electricity from the Lands of the East. And with Progress comes Change. For the first time in Millennia, the land of Equestria lit up under the watchful gaze of the stars and Moon above, and ponies began to live in the Night. Being the Receptacle of Trade and Progress, the City led in the forefront, and blazed up like fire upon a pyre. With wealth comes art, and the City was a wealthy one. Legendary figures destined to be imprinted forever into the collective lore of the people of the City, of bosses at the head of corporations, masters of wit and skilful manipulation in the cutthroat world of business, of the voices of singers blessed with the Gift of Music, of the soulful tunes of jazz and the bouncing beats of music yet to come. And so it is like this that centuries have passed and will continue to pass. For this is the story of the City of Lights and Legends, Manehatten. And so it is such that if you walk under the blaze that is the Lights of the City of Lights and Legends, you walk among the Legends themselves. Do take this moment, fair reader, and wonder: What will you do with this Life? Author's Note I'm now accepting suggestions for the next city.
CloudsdaleThe Children of the Sky are a strange race, quick to charge and war-like, yet fiercely loyal and caring towards their own. Before the Age of Expansion, the tribe of the Winged Ones lived in vast clusters of clouds, far above the solid ground in the Sky which they called home. This City began like so many, first a tiny Hamlet of cloud homes. This was in the era before the Two Sisters, the time where the Three Tribes still fought and disputed, when the world was still reeling from being the mere plaything of a mad personification of Chaos. It was like any of the others, the homes of an extended family tied to some farmers of the Sons and Daughters of the Earth. Even in a time of Dispute and Strife, the Tribes were still forced to rely on each other, for it was Friendship and Harmony open which these three races where built, not the wiles of Chaos and Discord. And so time passed as it always had even as the Three Tribes bickered, quarrelled and starved in the midst of the throes of the Great Famine. Even in the midst of this prejudice and racism, the small Hamlet of clouds and the farm below persisted. Bonds had been forged over the generations this partnership has lasted, and poor bonds they will be if they shattered so easily to this new and dreadful force. Though the farm still endured in the face of the Cold of Hatred and Prejudice, for it is by the Fire of Friendship that life may still endure, it was only by the skin of their teeth they did so, for the power of the combined hatred of the Three Tribes was great. And so it was such that life doggedly persisted on. Decades passed, and the nation of Equestria was formed. The families of the Spawn of the Sky and the Descendants of the Earth, their bonds with the strength of a hundred generations, too joined the Great Exodus from the Lands of Origins to this brave new world. So, one may ask, why is it that the story has begun when the Hamlet is doomed to be abandoned? The story of a City is not so much the story of the City itself as it is of the inhabitants who constructed it. And so it was such that a new Hamlet was formed above the new Land of Equestria. As always, the abstinence from hatred is greatly rewarded. The Hamlet and the Farm below prospered greatly, reaping bountiful after bountiful harvest. As always, promises of wealth and riches will draw beings towards the source. Migrants came, businesses were set up and a Town grew from the Hamlet, both in the Sky and under it. And the Town prospered in a new age of golden prosperity even as the Nation progressed into the Age of the Two Sisters. Yet, good times are not ones that last for eternity. One day, the bloodline of the Stewarts of the Farm finally came to an unexpected and abrupt end, for it was on that day that the Younger of the Two Sisters fell to the Forces of Darkness and in the battle between the Forces of Light and Dark the ensued, the farmstead was struck down in fiery death. Yet, the Town in the Sky survived, for the destruction was confined to the ground. With their Partners of a ten score generations gone, the people of both Towns were scattered and cast asunder to the winds, for without the roots there can be no tree. And so it was such that the Town upon the Ground crumbled to dust. Though troubles come and all may look grim and hopeless, the Children of the Sky still stick together, for it is of their nature to be loyal to one another. And so the Town in the Sky persevered on, refusing to fall into oblivion as its end should be, in the stubborn hope of better times to come. And good fortune did come, for it was after the Banishment of the Younger that the Elder contacted the inhabitants of the Town, since it was with their Experience did they master the Skills of manipulating the Weather. And experience the Elder did need, for She now had to take own the mantle of the Raising of the Moon and the Sun, and now could no longer be responsible for the Care of the Rain and the Rainbows, as she and her sister once had. And so it was such that the Race of the Sky was entrusted with the Care of the Weather and the Production of the Rainbows. The Substance Rainbows are made of is mysterious, as elusive and rare as the phenomenon that they embody, tough to manufacture and synthesise for the Children of the Sky but of little difficulty to a sufficiently learned Wielder of the Ether. But, the pegasi are as proud as they are loyal. To accept the help of another without help in return was almost unthinkable. However, there was only one another way, a way so dark and fell and horrible, that the goodness within every pony and the honour of their race won over, and the two races worked together, just as the races of the Sky and the Earth work together to bring about the very things that allow us to live the races of the Sky and Magic work together to bring about the things that make us want to live. And the Elder smiled, for this was a test, a test to see if the spirit of good within her subjects was strong enough to win over the temptation of pride and honour. And the Town was declared to produce the Weather of the Nation, for it was the Town and the Town only that had passed the test, and the Town swelled with the demand to become a City, and over the centuries it has churned out the Things that made life made living, as it always had, is doing and will continue to do. This is the story of the City in the Sky, the City of Clouds and Weather, Cloudsdale. And so, dear reader, if you are anywhere in this fair land of ours, do look up towards the sky and try to spot the great bank of clouds perpetually on the horizon. Take this opportunity to ask yourself, do you have the strength of the spirit to go through the Trials of Life, and ultimately emerge triumphant? Author's Note Does it count as a dark fic if the darkness is subverted?
TrottinghamWe have already touched upon the Children of the Sky, and their City, so let us now concentrate upon their compatriots upon the Ground, the Children of the Earth, and their City. This City started like any of the others, a small Hamlet of houses clustered together, formed during the desperate times of struggle after the Banishment of the Younger of the Two Sisters. What differed was that it was not situated in the lush plains and rolling hills of the North, but the scorched deserts and parched badlands of the South. The Children of the Earth have the Gift of the Ground as much as the Children of the Sky have the Gift of the Sky. They have the ability to hear the earth, to communicate with it and all the things that grow within, to persuade, to cajole, to help. And so it was such that the inhabitants of the Hamlet eked out a peaceful existence, for the warring parties of the day could not be bothered with Lands where even the Buffalo dared not roam. Decades passed, by now, the hope of peace and sanctuary had drawn more of the Race of the Earth to the Hamlet, for it is only the strength and endurance of the Earth lent to its Children that they may endure in such conditions. Yet, the worth of peace was equal to any hardship, and so the Hamlet grew and swelled into a Town. The Banner of Equestria rode the sands of Time in the Eight Directions of the Wind, casting its shadow upon the Town. Yet, life lived on, the peace brought upon the Land by the Elder affecting not the peace that was already in the Town. But this Peace in the Other Regions brought something new, for now that the Throes of War no longer affected the Peace of the Nation, Trade within the Land opened up, for ponies could no longer worry and hoard all that they could own. And Trade did come to this Town, and the Town gave greatly to this new Trade, giving the Expertise and Skill of its inhabitants, born from the long years of tilling the Soil which Rejected Plants, and as stated in the Book of Law before the Dawn of Time, if thou give thou shalt also receive, and the Town too benefitted greatly from this new Trade, receiving food and supplies and the Expertise of the other two races, bringing the Winds of Rain upon the parched earth. And so it was such that the pressures of life in the Town did ease, but it was still such that only the toughest of the tough not of the Children of the Earth could thrive there, and it was in this state that the Town continued its quiet existence. Yet, even as much as peace exists, there must too be war, for without one you cannot have the other. And so it was such that a great host swept far from the Lands Deep South beyond the Great Salt Plains, of a people much like the Citizens of the Nation yet unlike, and the Town fell without a struggle, for ponies are a people of Peace, and it is not of their nature to war. The Elder sent an army in response, but with the Great Desert of the South in the way, the response was too slow. The population of the Town was brought under subjugation. Dissenters, regardless of the truth of the accusations, were rounded up. A great portion of their Annual Harvest was taken as tribute, yet they were pushed to demand more and yet more from the Earth. The Trade which had bolstered the Town for so long slowed down to a trickle. And so it was such that a great Famine reigned upon the Town. Even in this dark time of Sickness and Hunger, the inhabitants of the City did not give up, turning to the Hills which had cast their Shadows upon the Town for so long and dug into Them. And the Hills did cry out to them, for the Occupiers had wronged the Earth, taking more than their due, and the Earth yearned for revenge. And so the Earth sided with its Children, guiding them towards the riches hidden within it, teaching them the ways of the Mine and the Forge. And so it was such that a Resistance was formed within the depths and tunnels of the Hills themselves. The Occupiers they fought and the People they helped until the Guard of Equestria relieved the Town, for under the Elder’s eyes no Hamlet or Town or City was or is too small to be disregarded by her care. And so it was such that one of the darkest chapters of the Town’s history drew to a close, and life continued on, though the culture of the Town did not remain untouched. During the long years of Occupation, the accent and speech of the Occupiers had ingrained themselves into the populace. But the inhabitants not griped but embraced it, for it is the nature of the Children of the Earth to accept and endure, to make the best of the worst. Even to this day, the Inhabitants of the Town, wear this mark as a badge of honour, a testament to their ability to endure the harshest of the harsh and adapt. Generations lived and died, and soon a new Period of Change swept from the Lands of the East through the Port Town of the East through the Nation, advancing the Technology of the Nation by great leaps and bounds. Yet, all things come at a cost, and the Cost of Technology is Resources. The People of the Town forgot not the Resistance of the Old Days and the Mines of the Hills. And so it was such that wealth poured forth again through the Town from the Mines of the Hills, and the Town swelled to become a City. Yet, even in this new-found wealth, the City forgot not the horrors of the past and the fragility of their Experience. And so a University was commissioned with the Wealth of the City, a great campus of education and learning meant to pass the Knowledge and Experience of the Forebears to students from the four borders of the Nation and beyond. And it is in this way that the culture of the Essence of the Children of the Earth will be preserved, for their culture is that of cultivating the Life of the Land, and to heed its calls. For this is the story of the City of Stone and Ore, the City of the Earth, Trottingham. And so dear reader, wherever you are, cast your eyes southwards and see the great orange glow of the Deserts of the South. Remind yourself, of the troubles the good citizens of this fair City have faced, of how they have tided over them. Ask yourself, will you be strong enough to do the same?
