Ch 1. Dragons of the Craterhoof
Chapter 1: Dragons of Craterhoof.
War may never change, but dragons? Dragons do.
“So let’s see, I need a few pieces of the crest- jump to the left, then tuck and roll- and a bunch of mud?” I reminded myself as the Barroth smashed it’s brow into the ground where I was standing.
The Barroth was one of the smaller of the Dragons of the Craterhoof Caldera. It walked on two legs with its tail straight out for balance. Its front claws were small, and served almost no purpose, the real danger was the large crest on its forehead that it was currently trying to use to smash me into a little pile of goop.
“You like the dirt huh? Lemme help you with that” I goaded pulsing my horn.
The large spiked head of my pony-sized hammer slammed into the top of the crest driving its face further into the ground. Pulling out of my roll, I braced myself against a boulder and threw myself back at the beast. Midair, I twisted myself and slammed my hooves against the dragons vulnerable side, with a click, my climbing spikes released, plunging through scales into the Barroth’s side.
With a pained roar the creature shook me off sending me into the air.
“Good” I grinned.
With another pulse of horn, I yanked the hammer out of its forehead and flung it upward, bracing my hooves as it slammed into me, propelling me even higher. At the top of my arc, I twisted my hooves underneath myself again, gathering force into them.
Right before I reached monster I kicked out with all four hooves, unleashing the pent up power, as well as the climbing spikes, into its skull, shattering like so many of the boulders at the base of the cliff. With one last groan the Barroth’s legs collapsed under itself and stopped struggling for good.
I retracted my spikes and knelt next to the carcass, thanking its spirit for meat, skin, and… well… mud it would provide for me.
Afterwards, I quickly galloped back to my base camp, hooked myself to my trusty cart, and wheeled it back to my kill. When I got back, after shooing a few birds away from it I grabbed my carving knife and set to skinning the beast.
*** *** ***
Much of the suns travel later, my cart was laden with a pile of hard crest plates, four buckets of mud, a couple claws, and a mostly intact skin wrapped around choice bits of meat and a few particularly sturdy looking bones. As I pulled into the village at the edge of the lake where the chief had told me to deliver the spoils. As I reached the edge of the stockades a pony on the wall hailed me.
“You there, Sheep, what’s your bus’ness with us here in Lake?” he shouted, making some kind of attempt to poke me from 50 feet away with his spear.
“Sheep?” I shouted back looking around confused, “I’m like you... what did the chief call it? A Pony?”
“Ponies don’t have horns like that ya’ idgit’ and where’s your mane? Your tail?” he sneered back?
And then it hit me: it was my father. I pulsed my horn a few times and my father popped off my head and landed balanced on my back.
“Is this better sir?” I responded shaking dirt out of my brown mane.
“Well, Ah reckon you look more like a pony now… but what self respectin’ pony walks around with a goat skull on his head?” before I could respond, he continued “anything to do with that dragon hide you got there?”
“My chief instructed me to bring this-“I pointed towards one of the buckets of mud, “to something called a farmer. And then he told me to use these strange bits of metal,“ I lifted a pouch out of my saddlebags, ”to buy myself a place to stay while I work for the Hunters Guild.”
“Tin Can, git over here and show this tribal t’ the farm” he yelled over his shoulder to someone behind the wall.
“Aww shut it Crabby,” replied the female that came around the corner. Her brown coat and grey mane made her look a lot like the little metal containers that I had seen strewn on the ground near the crumbling prewar buildings at the Mastodon Hot Spring Terraces.
“Well aren’t you a cute one?” she said looking me up and down.
“Where I come from it is rude to lie to somegoat that you have just met,” I replied matter-of-factly, “I have long since accepted my ugliness as fact.”
Memories of years of insults and hornless jokes came unbidden to the surface. I shook my head to clear my mind and looked back at the obviously delirious female.
“Erm… okay then.” She replied, “I assume you need to see Leeks then? Right this way.”
I could feel her heart beating nervously through the pulses coming from her hooves. I must have been the one who was being rude. Chief had said that pony society was much different than Mountain Goats or Bighorns, I must have breached some unknown protocol. Reaching back, I re-fastened my father to my head.
As we walked through the village, I marveled at the different colored ponies everywhere, so many different colors it was a far cry from the greys, browns, and whites from the tribes of the Lamare Valley. Even my own orange coat didn’t look strange among the greens, pinks and blues I saw around me. As I looked more closely at all the ponies around me something strange caught my attention.
“So y’all must live a very peaceful life here, do you not get dragons this far south in the valley?” I said looking at my guide questioningly.
She shot me a confused glance, “The whole Craterhoof Caldera is filled with dragons, what makes you think it would be peaceful here?”
“Your parents must still be alive, I see no ponies wearing them.” I answered.
“Wearing our parents? What the buck are you talking about?” she asked with a disgusted grimace.
Taken aback, I pointed at my Father, “When a goat or sheep dies during a hunt, it is the duty of their children to take vengeance on the dragon that killed them. Once it is done, we wear the skull of our dead parent to honor them. This way they will be able to protect us even after they are gone. Do ponies not have this custom?”
“What? No, that’s barbaric, we bury our dead; we don’t wear them as armor! Bones aren’t even that strong!” she said flailing her hooves for emphasis.
“Once the Shapers have finished molding the skull to us, and have tethered the souls of the ancestor, nothing can destroy it.” I replied, trying not to get offended. How could a society survive without the help of its ancestors? No wonder the zebras and the ponies destroyed themselves so long ago.
That stopped her. I watched as panic came across her features, and then after that, anger. “You trap their spirits in their own skulls?” she asked quietly. “
“W-well yes. But-“ I began, getting the feeling that I may have said something gravely wrong.
“YOU MONSTER! HOW DARE YOU TRAP THEM LIKE THAT!” she screamed at me, twisting around and kicking out with both hooves.
I barely managed to lower my head, her hooves catching my father’s horns instead of my own, much less durable, chest. Her surprisingly powerful buck sent me flying out of the straps of my cart, and backwards a few feet. As I landed, she dashed toward me, preparing another buck. I pulsed my horn and she was forced to retreat as my hammer came spinning through the air, and embedded itself in the ground between us.
I got to my feet, widening my stance in preparation for combat. “What the hell is wrong with you, it’s not like we trapped them unwillingly!” I shouted back, “They want to guard our children!”
“How could they want that?” she replied, still on the edge, “An eternity trapped in your own skull.”
“That’s how it has always been” I replied, “My father was protected by his mother before him, as I am protected by him. Someday I will protect my own kids,” I finished.
“Kids?” she asked finally relaxing.
“You know, young.” I replied.
“You mean foals?”
“I do not know this word,” I answered, as I strapped myself back to my cart, and pulsed my hammer lightly, landing it back on top of the pile.
“Like, baby ponies?” she asked again as we started walking again. I noticed that she kept a greater distance from me after her yelling match earlier.
“I knew I would learn things when I came here, but I didn’t think it would be so quickly.” I was beginning to think I should have paid more attention to the chief when he taught me of the pony language.
“So you are a unicorn right?” she asked after a few seconds, “How can your father be a Bighorn sheep?”
“In our tribe, your father is the one who raised you. Obsidian raised me, so he is my father.”
“And your real parents?” she continued hesitantly as we neared a large group of plants in eerily straight lines.
“Eaten by the Kushala Daora.” I replied sadly. “He is a great wind dragon who destroyed the Rosie Pelt village when I was little” I added when she looked at me questioningly.
“Oh… I’m sorry,” she cringed. “Well, here’s the farm, I’ll go find Leeks, wait here.”
As she trotted away, I looked around again, I guessed that farm must be what they called these strange rows of plants. An oddity indeed, but I could see why it would be convenient to have all your herbs and vegetables nearby. You lost out on the adventure aspect of foraging, but it was also much safer. I reminded myself to ask this “Leeks” how he made the plants grow in such a fashion.
My musings were interrupted by white male (I think stallion was the word?) with a green mane.
“Hello, name’s Leek Soup! You must be the hunter from the Confluence, the Red-Hoof Tribe if I remember correctly? Pardon my surprise, but I was expecting a pony.” He greeted me with a bow and a head-butt.
I returned the greeting, “You know the greeting of my people!” I said, surprised. “Also, I am a pony! Why does no one seem to get that?” I asked
“You have a rams horns.” He said simply gesturing at my helm.
“I asked the Shapers to keep the horns, usually they are removed to make room for the Ram’s own. In my case, they had to drill a hole in the forehead. It was... unconventional… but necessary.”
“So do you have what your chief promised me?” he asked wringing his hooves in anticipation.
I released my harness and placed the buckets of mud on the ground in front of him.
“And you even remembered to keep them wet!” he said gleefully when he saw the layer of water in each bucket. “Barroth mud is a vital ingredient to my fertilizer. It’s best if you don’t ask about the other parts though,” he said looking around shiftily.
He reached into his saddlebags and pulled out another bag of small metal pieces. “300 caps was the agreed on price,” he said hoofing me the bag, which I threw into my own saddlebags.
“Shall we butt heads to seal the deal?” he asked, once again surprising me with his knowledge of my peoples’ customs.
We lightly knocked heads, and I watched amusedly as he stumbled back dizzily.
“If you boys are done with your strange… head-butting thing, you need to find somewhere to sleep, uh, what was your name again?” asked Tin Can with a chuckle.
“I am called Stutter Step” I answered. I was thankful for the skull on my head; nopony (That’s what they said right? I was still trying to get their language down) could see me blushing. The name was not a compliment coming from a sheep. “I was not the most graceful in my youth.”
“Well, Stutter, I’m sure Two by Four has a cabin you can rent down by the lodge. That way you can be close to the Hunter’s Guild” she said, oblivious to my embarrassment.
As we left the farm cart in tow, Leek Soup began happily stirring his new mud, he began laughing and repeatedly chanting: “Mud for the Mud God, Mud for the Mud God.”
We followed the road to an old log building in surprisingly good shape for having stood for thousands of years. Stepping into the front entrance, Tin Can looked around before hailing a decidedly blue stallion.
Two by Four greeted us as he got closer, “Tin Can! Are you here to take me up on that date?” he said jovially.
“Not on your life buddy, I’ve told you no a hundred times! Stutter Step here needs a place to stay, he’s come to join the hunter’s guild,” she shot back narrowing her eyes.
“Ah, a hunter, and a bighorn to boot!” He looked hungrily at my saddle bags. “Hunters can afford nice rooms! How many caps you got there boy?” he continued while grinning and rubbing his front hooves together.
“Err, Caps?” I asked questioningly. “You mean these little pieces of metal here?” I continued after grabbing the bag that Leek Soup had given me.
“Yep, bottle caps! So how much you holdin’ there?”
“I have 300 here, and another 400 in this one,” I replied fishing out the second bag that the Chief had given me.
“Seven hundred huh…” the stallion mused, “That’s a little short of what I charge for my cabins, but I’ll tell you what: Every time I go down to the lake to fish, I end up being chased away by a Royal Ludroth that lives down there. If you kill the Wyvern and clear up my fishing spot, I’ll give you the cabin for free, that way you can spend your caps on other things.”
“Sounds like fun, you’ve got yourself a deal” I replied almost instantly.
“What?” Tin Can sputtered. “Your just gonna ‘Go kill a dragon’ all by yourself? It takes 2 hunters minimum, it’ll eat you alive!”
Grinning I started heading out the door, then turned back. “Can you watch my cart, Tin? I can’t exactly fight strapped in,” I asked trustingly.
“If you die can I have your things?” she replied almost immediately.
“That’s not even possible, but if by some chance it happens... sure why not,” I shot back.
*** *** ***
“I’ve seen that big hammer, but what kinda guns are you packin’?” asked Tin Can as we watched the Royal Ludroth from up on the hill.
“Guns? Guns are for wimps, all I need is my hammer, and my climbing spikes.” I said matter-of-factly kicking my heels together.
“Climbing spikes?” she asked quizzically.
“The climbing spikes are the preferred weapon of my tribe; we aren’t called the Red-Hooves for nothing.” The spikes right here,” I gestured to the trio of tubes around my legs, “are rigged to a pressure switch on the bottom of the hoof. The more pressure I put on the switch, the more the spikes come out.”
I demonstrated this by picking up a stick in my mouth and pushing on one of the triggers. This caused the tips of the three spikes to clear the edges of their cases.
“Before the war the Chief says they were used by ponies to climb the mountainous areas of the Craterhoof National Park, but I think they work way better at piercing dragon hide.” I grinned conspiratorially.
“Soo, what’s your plan?” she asked even a nod towards my impressive knowledge of hoof based climbing accessories.
I got up and stretched my legs a bit, “No plan, watch my stuff!” I said, galloping towards the wyvern as I pulsed my horn and sent my hammer spinning end over end. Around the time I got to the bottom of the hill, catching the beasts attention, my hammer came down from the sky, slamming into the top of its skull, stunning it briefly.
I was lucky my throw had been accurate, if I had been of by just a little I would have hit its spongy mane, which probably wouldn’t have done a thing.
The long lizard shaped wyvern slumped in a daze for a second, giving me a good opportunity to deliver a few swift kicks to the ribs, leaving behind a lattice of puncture wounds.
Shaking its head, it tucked its arms and rolled. In a flash I went from kicking to be steamrolled by a giant lion-iguana thing. So it rolled, I’d have to watch out for that, as well tail whips and claw swipes most likely.
Getting up out of the pony shaped hole I left in the ground I jumped back just in time as it leaped through the air at me. Squaring off, we stared each other down. The Royal Ludroth was the first to move, rearing its head back and spitting a big blob of water at me. Not expecting this new salivary salvo, I got hit. The water left me sticky, a feeling I didn’t relish whatsoever.
I dove in under its head trying to get a good buck to the chest. In response, it wound up and swatted me away. I was moving slower, probably the sticky water, I should have been able to dodge that.
As I got to my feet, and turned to look at my foe I saw its tail lashing towards me.
“Well Shit…” was all I managed as I was sent flying into the cold lake. As I sunk towards the bottom, I saw my hammer sitting where it must have landed after my earlier assault.
Looking out, I saw the Ludroth preparing to leap into the water after me.
I hated water fights…
I delayed the pulse of my magic, trying to grab onto the hammer, and spun it in a circle around me, letting it fly at the leaping dragon. The hammer and the beast collided head first in the air, stopping all momentum about halfway to the water. Celestia, what a throw, I should try that more often.
Pulling myself out of the surf, I began galloping as hard as I could towards the recovering dragon, focusing and compressing all my power into my back hooves as my father had always taught me. As the Royal Ludroth stood itself back up, I slid under its head again, this time pivoting backwards and bracing myself with my front hooves.
The buck that followed released all my stored in one instant into the monsters jaw, my climbing spikes extending so far that they exited out of the back of its skull. Luckily the force of kick also caused it to do a back flip, sliding off my spikes and hitting the ground behind me, dead.
*** *** ***
End of chapter 1.
Quests completed:
Mud for the Mud God: Hunt 1 Barroth
Fishing for trouble: Hunt 1 Royal Ludroth
Current armor: Watchful Ancestor X: Torso Up
Current Weapon: Iron Striker +
Author's Note
So I realize there might be some confusing things throughout the story, but i promise they will be explained when it is thematically appropriate.
For safety, once again credit for Monster Hunter goes to Capcom.
Credit for Fallout Equestria goes to KKat
looking for an editor, and an artist for a cover picture.
