Cannerlands

It seemed like a simple enough job. One that could get me paid a lot of bits. One that would give me enough bits to buy myself some decent farming equipment, maybe prove all of these ponies wrong that I could actually be successful here. One that would leave enough bits left over for more bullets for my newly acquired FS Brand Rifle, my HAYS device aptly named it the "Quick Aim-Bot" and also highlighted the weapon a pungent violet. When I commented it out loud, Stanley chimed in that I got a high quality armament on my hooves, and also pointed out that a farmer acquiring such a thing was rare while chuckling to himself. I asked what equipment would be considered lower quality and he actually gave me a complete detailed list.

"White is common grade stuff usually sold by mass producing factories. Green and blue are usually weapons that are give modifications to improve its performance while purple and orange are top of the line stuff that are usually acquired through rewards, payment, or other means," Stanley made quotation marks with his hooves when he said 'other'.

I was sitting in a creaky wooden chair that allowed me to lean back into it, yet something told me this was not a part of its original design and that it was simply from wear that caused it to get like this. This could describe the Sheriff's office in a single sentence. The entire place looked as if it has been scraping by for a while. The doors creaked something awful if opened too wide, the cell doors were rusty to the point of being dangerous to touch, the wall paper was peeling to the point of the wall itself was on the verge of crumbling, and the dust would fall from the ceiling every time somepony trotted around on the second floor. And yet, no matter all the flaws in this place, it added some character that I had give it respect. If someone was to say something about cleaning or fixing this place up, I feel it would be ultimately ignored by those who used this room. It fulfilled its purpose and that's all it needed to be used for.

Even the quality of parchment they used was of some sort of quality where writing on it would rip it ever so slightly where you would be left with perforations of letters you wrote by the time you were done. Or maybe the ponies here just had a heavy hoof? Either way, fancy Sheriff's office or not, they had a job for me. I have proven myself a worthy candidate, having survived a bandit attack to a train, to end the local bandit menace on this side of the border once and for all. In all honesty, I kinda looked forward to it. I had a new gun, a new gun that I wanted to try out, a new way to remove life from this world. My stomach still queased but I constantly told myself those bandits were causing more harm than good to the ponies here. The only one who probably deserved to be hassled was Stockpile. Probably would second think my decision of Stock was constantly raided by bandits, but apparently he has a big reputation in this town for helping ponies in need.

The Sheriff told me of this when I was about to bring up his manipulation of ponies to do his work for him. Everything being painted in gold, the inn as well as his own GUN shop were funded by one pony, him. He created more jobs in this town than what would ever exist without his presence. And I hated it. It made me want to curl up into a ball and cry... no. It made me want to go out and kill some bandits. If I couldn't stop someone who was abusing ponies without serious consequences, then I would go out kill ponies with serious benefits. Just the thought of holding the FS in my hooves and shooting it quelled my inner rage against Stock.

Still, something inside of my deep most core told me that I would take down Stock once and for all. Not today, but in the future, he was going to get what was coming to him. When I thought of Stock, I also thought of Wolf River. Where did he go? Who was he even? He was the biggest stallion I ever met, and if it wasn't for his help, I would still be stuck at Stock's place. I asked Sheriff and Stanley if they met a pony with Wolf's description. Sheriff said he only saw him occasionally carry giant crates out of the GUN shop. Stanley made a little comment about missing the days of being a full time Trove Hunter, letting on that he helped the town more often than Trove Hunting these days. I couldn't help but like Stanley a little bit more for the fact. "Aw, you're a softie after all," I teased. He gave me a look that would kill me and rip me in half if it could, but I simply teased him further sticking out my tongue.

The Sheriff offered a map of the local area. The bandits who attacked the train were believed to be a part of a bigger group called the Wound Lickers. Licks for short because no pony want to imagine what the group's name stood for everytime they said it. The Licks were north of the town, hanging out in some place called 'Bottom Drop Alley'. "Place filled with looters and thieves. Usually the place you go right before you head to the Border," Stanley explained. He dropped by there himself to get himself properly equipped for before Trove Hunting. It then struck me that Stanley has been on the other side of the Border and was able to get back in. I inquired further and he looked at the Sheriff who jumped in and explained.

Apparently, rules aren't as strict as Canterlot Guards led me to believe. Any bandit can enter and leave the Border, but you had better luck to travel through Cannerlands and search for treasure than go hoof to hoof with a zebra warlock.

I also inquired what the other side of the Border was like, and Stanley simply shrugged it off, explaining it was like any other society. There was rules. There were good ponies and bad ponies. His answer kinda made me feel like he was ignoring me to sound cool, but it made me think about how he described it with as little information he gave me.

The Sheriff told me that the HAYS would scan the map and tell me how to get to the Licks hideout. Stanley has been scooping out the place for the past month, confirming that it was the place. Wheel was supposed to clear the place out when he got back from guarding the last train, but now that was impossible for obvious reasons. Stanley was too busy helping the Sheriff keep the town in check to take out the Licks once and for all. The Licks supposedly had a bunch of explosives within their hideout to help destroy their said hideout. Wheel was able to look at the area itself as well and said that a big enough explosion could cause a chain reaction throughout the cave to bury anypony inside it in a rocky tomb. I grimaced and asked if that was necessary. Stanley and Sheriff looked at me with a raised eyebrow, asking if I was up to the task.

I mean, shooting ponies who were shooting me is one thing. But what about ponies that never asked to be a bandit in the first place? What about ponies who were kidnapped or prisoners being held within? Did Stanley even get to look inside the place they thought was their hideout?

The Sheriff answered this immediately with, "It's up to you. It is an easier job taking collateral damage. You have not been here long enough to know that the Licks has been huge problem with our communication with the zebras as well. We have been unable to trade without assistance from Stock..." I tuned out everything else and I immediately nodded and accepted the job. I was going to first look for any prisoners inside Wound Licker's hideout, and when it was all clear, I was going to wipe them off the map.

"Also, if you run into a pony by the name of Fat Stab, kill him. The Wound Lickers have no announced leader, but he plans all the raids and the attacks on civilian caravans. Destroying their base of operations will help tremendously in stamping them out, but to truly stamp out every last cinder so another fire doesn't threaten to light up the cactus so to say, killing Fat Stab would guarantee that,"

Kill Fat Stab. Rescue any prisoners. And destroy an entire base of operations by myself. Eek. The more I thought about this, the more this sounded like a suicide mission than a simple job.

"Oh, you won't be alone though," The Sheriff said, as if to read my mind. "Wheel was one of our best Trove Hunters that helped this town get on its hooves. And just like his father, Grind is just as passionate about adventure. He will want to come too."

"What? But he's just a kid!"

They both look at me and simultaneously say, "So are you," Oh yeah. Whoops.

"Besides, age means little out here. If you can hold a gun, you are old enough to not be a waste of space," Stanley further commented.

"Alright. It's settled. Take your time on getting prepared for your journey, but the sooner we kill those bandits, the sooner we can all sleep soundly at night. The Bar is ironically a good place to buy supplies. There are also some vendors in the home area of Bordertown who sell unique things, and telling them that you're going to take care of our bandit problem, they will probably help you out in some way," The Sheriff suggested, "Also, you're probably low on ammo for your gun since the fight on the train,"

"Nah, I'm good..." I look at my display from my HAYS device and I notice a huge change has taken place. Instead of six bullets out of four hundred something, I only saw the '13' bullets in my gun followed by a large zero. I quickly remove my pack from my neck and I pull out the bullets for the bracelet gun I had. The box of bullets and side pockets of bullets were still in my bag as I left it. What the hay?!

"Yeah, these bullets are AJ branded," Stanley said upon closer inspection. "You bought the wrong bullets didn't you?"

"I thought bullets were all the same!" Who the fuck makes different bullets?! Would it not be simpler for every gun to have the same bullet? C'mon!

"Luckily, Stock allows you to swap bullets free of charge. Stanley? Could you go show her where the GUN shop is? I gotta go do my hourly sweep of the perimeter," The Sheriff was putting on his duster as he talked and was already half way to the door as he finished he instruction.

"She already knows where it's at. I found her when she was leaving the store," Wait. Your expecting me to go alone Stanley? What about what you said about him being a slaver!

"Alrighty then. Good luck then Kale," Sheriff was about to step out the door. I had to come up with something fast!

"Isn't Stock a slaver? Aren't you guys afraid he might kidnap me?!" I blurt out. The Sheriff whips his head to look at me and I realize that probably the most pathetic thing for a Trove Hunter to say. Especially one that is armed and just took out a train filled with bandits. But the point is now lingering in the air, much like the musky aroma of piss that just seemed to emanate from the walls. The Sheriff said, burying his face in his hoof.

"Stanley. Stop spreading rumors about Mister Scratch. None of them are true,"

"Dust, I'm telling you..." Stanley sounded genuinely hurt as he tried to defend himself but the Sheriff, Dust, cut him off.

"No. I don't want to hear another word. Mister Scratch is a family friend and you can still be considered an outsider. This is your final warning, or maybe I'll stop overlooking your drunken brawls at the bar. You help the Trove Hunter do some real work, clear? " And with that, the Sheriff slammed the door, leaving a very awkward understanding that Stanley was going to escort me to the GUN shop just to comfort me.

So, it seemed there was a slight difficulty in telling the Sheriff that Stock was a corrupted piece of crap that deserved to be ran out of this town. I questioned if the Sheriff wouldn't listen to somepony who has been here, helping him defend the town, what good would it be if I tried to jump having just gotten here? Maybe he would if I killed this Stab guy and stomped out the threat of bandits for good. It was a long shot, but it was the only lead I got. I looked at Stanley as we trotted and I felt shitty about the entire thing. He was right about Stock, and it made me think that Stock only knew bits and pieces of the whole story... yet I couldn't tell him what I knew.

I was unsure if he was going to run to the Sheriff straight away with what I told him and that would just cause the Sheriff to not trust me when it came to Stock. No. I played politics when I was under my mother's care. I know how this goes. I need to be respected for something big first before I can call out senior management. And killing Stab was that big thing I needed. Plus, it eliminated a need for Stock to still be here, allowing easier trade with the zebras.

When they finally arrived at the shop, Stanley sighed, "Just go in and trade in your bullets. Dust... I mean Sheriff is probably right. It was just rumors anyways. I'm probably just jealous since Cass has a crush on him," He sighed in defeat. I blink. No! I need somepony to help me take him down! I don't need you giving up now. Besides, I wasn't going in there again. He had a shield and a shop full of guns that he could probably just kill me with, I needed backup just in case.

"I didn't bring anything up Stanley..." I whispered quietly underneath my breath. Stanley's ears perked up, his eyes widening as I began to speak, "But you're not wrong. When I was here earlier, he was trying something with some customer when I trotted in on it. He offered me a gun to shut me up and to make me forget anything I just saw," I fib. Okay, I panicked really. It would just seem like I'm taking his side if I say I was effected or something. I needed Stanley to believe me as well help me out. My earlier assumption proving true, he immediately turned tail.

"We gotta tell the Sheriff then! You can back me up and then he's gotta believe me!" He exclaimed. I quickly bite his tail, pulling my head back, hoping I'm not causing too much of a scene.

"Hang on!" I say through clenched teeth. He pauses and looks back at me as I release his tail. "There's no point on making it a difficult decision on him kicking him out when the town still relies on him for trade," I point out. He pursed his lips and rubbed his chin. "After Grind and I take out this home base for bandits, your trade with the zebras should resume, right?" Stanley nodded, "It's then we can take down Stock and kick him out of this place. Then, and only then would it be easier to prove that Stock is extorting ponies for his own gain,"

Stanley's eyes widened and he nodded, adjusting his bandana, "Yeah, that makes sense,"

I smile and feel my heart flutter. We had a plan, all we had to do was do it now. It was nice to know that I had somepony on my side to help take down Stock. I didn't know where Wolf River was and he didn't seem like he necessarily cared about me or Stock once he left the GUN shop. Not that I could blame him. He probably helped Stock way more than he wanted and probably just wanted to rid himself from the situation once and for all. That was fine, I had Stanley now to aid me.

Even though I knew I wasn't alone, it didn't make the job ahead of me any less daunting. Including the part where I had to get more bullets from Stock. With the knowledge Stanley now knew was true, it was courtesy to escort me inside to make sure I knew what I was doing. Quotation marks, quotation marks.

Oddly enough, it wasn't as awkward nor bullet flying as I thought it was going to be. Stanley and Stock greeted each other as if they were old friends. At first, I thought I was the one being duped as Stanley gave Stock a high hoof as he explained that I needed an exchange for bullets. Then, Stanley inquired as how Stock was able to keep profit by being so generous with his wares. Stock responded by asking how Stanley was able to stay out of jail if he kept getting into fights with the locals. Stanley laughed and stated he was more surprised by how Stock got away with all of his extortion tactics. Stock winked and asked how Stanley's family in Manehattan was faring. Stanley casually pointed a rather fancy looking pistol at Stock's head. My eyes widened. The side of the pistol had two colorful letters, 'RD' engraved in the barrel of the gun. Stock laughed and pulled out something twice his size, threatening to blow up us up along with the entire front of his shop. They stood there, their gazes locked for what seemed like an eternity.

It wasn't until I jumped in, pulling out my gun and pointing it at Stock. Stock whipped his head and turned towards me. "Stay out of this Kale..." Stock's smile was gone and was replaced with a warning look

"We're only here for bullets. We're not here to take you down... yet. So enjoy your stay while we work on that, but today, we're only here for bullets," My teeth began to grind as I said it, my rage visible on my face, through the throbbing veins in my temple. Stanley still had his smile up and tilted his head.

"You're out numbered Stock," This caused the GUN merchant to laugh like a hyena and then finally address the comment with one of his own.

"If you only knew," And with that, he swapped my AJ bullets for FS bullets and we both left before Stock decided to actually use that giant gun of his.

I let out a heavy breath. My heart was pumping while Stanley casually dusted himself off. "Sorry, I should have warned you. We get into it every time we meet," Stanley offered his body for support. I gladly leaned against it, smelling heavy apple cider, smoke, and whiskey on him. After a brief moment of reprieve, without warning took my gun from me, nodded, and reloaded it in front of me.

I took back the gun from him, thanking him for doing me multiple big favors. He simply shook his head and smiled at me. "Kale, right?" He put out a hoof and gave me a hoof shake, "Come back alive. Let's take down this asshole," I nod at him and then we part ways. I could only think of how long he has been at war with Stock on his own.

It was time to do my part. But first, I had to go wake up mister sleepy head at the Inn.

"Has he been out all this time?" I asked Cass when we reached upstairs.

"Yeah. I wouldn't disturb him. He's been through a lot..." Her voice trails off as I trot up to his bed and I nudge him with my hoof. I see his chest expand and deflate, in and out. He was definitely alive. Much to Cass's dismay, I got onto his bed and began to bounce up and down.

"Wake. Up! We're. Going. To. Kill. Bandits!" I yell each word with every bounce, disturbing his slumber as I made his bed my own personal trampoline. His eyes slowly fluttered open and I tilt my head, making a face at him. "Morning sleepy head. I was able to get a new gun, learn how to reload, and..." It was in the middle of my little lazy implication speech that my stomach decided to groan loudly, yelling at me to eat some food. I immediately jump off the bed and I feel my entire body go weak. When was the last time I ate?

I think back to dinner before I ducked out of my mom's house. That was more than four days ago! I groan outwardly this time, and I fall onto the bed next to Grind's, tangling the covers in a shockwave of exhaustion. "We're going to kill bandits? How? You going to eat 'em?" Grind grinned at me, Cass chuckling. Oh har har.

"Ok. First we're going to eat a ton of food. Then I'll tell you my plan," I announce. My mind was now focused on one task. "Hey, Miss Cass..."

"Please don't make me feel old, sweetie. And I'm already on it," She pushed a tuft of mane out of her face and headed downstairs. While Cass got food and in between the hunger pangs, I told Grind of the job the Sheriff had for me. I left out the whole Stock slaver part, there was no need to complicate things are put Grind in any danger or worry him. He had enough to think about with his dad already.

"So, we're going to march right into Bottom Drop Alley and raid an entire bandit camp by ourselves?" Grind asked, his tone wavering.

"The Sheriff already volunteered you," I cut off any hesitation he may have, "And I got used to the idea of already having someone coming with me. No getting out of it now," I back him into a corner but he throws up a hoof, dismissing my cowardly concerns.

"I'll be glad to come. I always thought of marching in there by myself and wiping house with them, but my dad didn't want me being a Trove Hunter... so I was forced to learn the railroad." I was unsure of how going out of your way to kill bandits and being a Trove Hunter were even related, but I decided to let Grind keep his moment. "I'd have to go home, buy some ammo and food,"

I nod and tell him how the Sheriff said that the town ponies will probably want to throw in their two cents to help out as well, since we're going to kill a pretty large bandit problem of theirs. Grind shrugged, "I live here, so I'm just doing what's good for the ponies here anyways" Well sorry I'm not the hero type, is what I wanted to say, but a huge hole in my stomach prevented me from half of my usual sass.

I decided to take a look inside my pack while Cass was getting food for us. There was the scroll, the book, my new box of FS ammo, and my new FS rifle that I simply adored. I felt hot all over thinking of all the bandits this thing was going to kill. Which I justified in my head over and over was okay to enjoy because probably enjoyed it along with raping, pillaging, and vandalizing things, which I assumed they did because they were bandits and bandits did bad things. The rifle itself was red in color with yellow stripes going down the barrel of the gun. A cursive FS in golden plating labeled both sides of the handle. It had an ammo cartridge that went into the left side of the gun, right into the barrel. Oh, so many ponies were going to die tomorrow... bandits. They didn't deserve to be called ponies anymore. They were monsters. I wasn't.

The box contained several cartridges of pre loaded bullets. I was told that you would usually have to put the bullets in manually, but Stock would do so for all of his customers, or have his slaves do it was probably the reality.

I take out the book and my HAYS device labeled it as 'Highly Amplified Yodel Sound device Manual'. I quickly flip it open and begin reading how to actually operate this thing. Most of it was self explanatory. It used my current vitals to assess how my body's well being was. It helped display any additional combat information that I while on the battle field. When I was off of it, it served as a map and guide throughout the waste land. The manual itself had some interesting tid bits as well about who made it and why.

It was created by a Trove Hunter for Trove Hunting by some guy named... Butt Stallion. I'm serious. That's what his name was. Butt Stallion. Can I say it again? I'm going to say it again. "The guy who created the HAYS device, his name was Butt Stallion," I comment out loud, placing the book down for a brief moment. Grind looked sideways at me and I showed him the book. He laughed, followed by a choking sound. "You ok?" I ask, concerned about him.

"Yeah, fine. Just a little sore," Grind cleared his throat, a wide smile still on his face. I smile back at him and also just for myself. It was nice having somepony to talk to that wasn't the wall. I read a few more pages on HAYS device maintenance if it ever stopped working in mid combat and how to quickly fix it. I keep the knowledge tucked away in the back of my mind while I put the book back in my pack. I took out the scroll and Grind takes interest in it as well. "What cha got there?"

I shrug and remove the gooey red wax seal that kept it neatly rolled. "I dunno. Found all this stuff off some dead bandit. Going to figure out what it is same time you are," I tell him. He nods and decides to take it literally, trotting over to my bed and sitting next to me, leaning into my side. He felt warm like a nice comfortable blanket, probably due to him sleeping all day. Lazy butt.

I unravel the scroll and I begin to read, "Dear Yams," I look at Grind and he makes a face similar to mine. ("Like the sweet potato?") I shush him as I continue on, "Attached is a HAYS device as well as HAYS memory disc. Listen to it ASAP. I will be waiting in New Equestria for you. Love ya," And at the bottom of the scroll was a little lens that was taped to the page. The HAYS device had a little lens that magnified everything stored on it. This little lens doubled as a speaker that you could talk into it. It was how you were able to record messages, send them, and talk to other ponies with transmissions in the air. It also projected my health and inventory right to my eyeballs. This same lens on the device itself was also how it absorbed information, and when you wanted to give somepony a hardcopy, you simply recorded your message and the HAYS device would create a small little disc that was attachable to your lens. When attached to your lens, it would scan all the information and copy it onto your HAYS device for you to keep as long as your device functioned. Grind stared curiously at the disc though and I explained it all to him. By the end of the explanation, his mouth made a little oh shape and his face clearly told how fascinated with subject he was.

I had to admit, it was pretty cool too. But something nagged at the corner of my mind. There was all this wonderful and terrible technology out here in the Cannerlands, why wouldn't Celestia have any of this? She was a goddess having spanned over at least 2000 years of experience. Surely she has been to this part of region right? I would think that the Princess would keep tabs on everywhere, especially places of incredible danger for her subjects. But then I thought of the Trove, maybe she knows of that as well and steers clear, probably knowing it was some fool's pipe dream and advised her subjects to do the same? I shift my hooves underneath me to get into a slightly more comfortable position. Grind angles his body where I could lean into him more easily. I look up at him, then at the disc.

"So... are you going to play it?" He asks. I bite my lip nervously. I stole this off of what I think was a bandit. If I just looted some pony that was on an important mission, how would I look? But how guilty would I look if I don't play it at all? Mind as well be more truthful than more of a monster. My conscience prods me with a moral stick.

I stick it onto my small lens and let it record the information. An empty white rectangle appeared at the bottom of my vision and filled up rapidly. Food arrived as the HAYS device made a small noise to notify me that it had finished downloading whatever was on the disc. I removed the disc from the lens and put it down on the letter.

"Oh? Whatcha got there?" Cass eyed the little memory disc. My throat went dry. I didn't have an answer for Grind was going to ask, and I definitely didn't have one now.

"Oh, Kale here got a message off of some pony that looked like he looted another pony," And Grind comes to my rescue. "We're going to give it a listen, wanna join?" I give Grind a look.

"It's my message, and I will do the inviting," I give Grind a playful shove. He winces but smiles at me to reassure me he's fine. Right, he's probably still sore all over his body. Cass looks at me with puppy dog eyes and shimmering eyes, "Yes, you can stay. Only because of the cute thing earlier," I comment. Seriously, no one has called me any kind of attractive in my life time. I've mostly been bullied by my mother and customers at my mother's restaurant.

Cass gave a giddy, filly like squeal and jumped onto the bed onto my other side. My stomach growled once more and the two ponies gave me worrying look. "After the message, it's definitely time to eat,"

The HAYS manual said that it could project an image from the lens in front of the user as well as produce audio by voice command. I had to look up the exact phrase, but each voice command required a press of a button followed by the specific phrase into the lens in my HAYS device that was already by my mouth. Since it was on my right ear, the lens was on the end of the piece near my mouth on my right side. I had to makes a face which caused Cass to snicker. "You can just talk normally dear,"

Oh.

"Play projection recently downloaded," I say as clearly as I could. My HAYS device made a little pinging noise and a miniature dark purple pegasus appeared about three feet from my face. When he spoke, it was oddly deep for what I would think a pony could ever sound like.

"Yammy. I know we've had our differences, but you're one of the only ponies I can trust. I need your help for one last job in Cannerlands. I've taken a contract to kill a terrible pony who is corrupting it more than it already is. And his reach is growing farther and longer than anypony could even fathom. His strength lies in his connections, and soon, I fear he may even have spies in Equestria already. We need to stop this menace before it becomes too late. Meet me in New Equestria, we'll talk more there. I love you Yammy. I heard you've... well... you've moved on. And if you can't find me in New Equestria, then assume I'm dead. But this pony needs to be stopped. My friends will welcome you here with open arms if..."

"Night! Alliance Mechs inbound!"

"Yammy! New Equestria! Bring that quick trigger..."

An explosion cut him off as a dark robotic voice that would haunt me for days to come spoke out over the recording. "DIE PONY SCUM." The recording ended with the pony making a quick motion, pulling out what looked like a very big gun.

Grind looked determined to march t New Equestria just as the message finished. A dangerous pony that had contacts everwhere that was corrupting Cannerlands? No thanks. I'll stick to my farm plan. Cass to my left sighed and looked at us both, "Don't listen to that recording. Throw that disc away. Nothing is waiting for you in New Equestria. Not anymore,"

Cass got up and started trotting to the stairs. Grind looked troubled but seemed to know what the deal was already. I didn't so I jumped to the question, "Not anymore? What does that mean?" Cass bit her lip and hovered in the doorway headed downstairs, tears in her eyes as I see she was reliving some personal memory.

"New Equestria is in ruins. Don't go there," She sniffled as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She cleared her throat and waved for us to follow, "Now c'mon, enough bad memories for tonight. Time for dinner. I made steak for our two heroes,"

"Yummy! Steak!" Grind exclaimed with glee, jumping off the bed and following Cass.

I suddenly felt my stomach lurch as if I was getting into another train accident. Steak? Like from a cow? Like, from my old neighbor Sally who was nice and often baked me cookies? That kind of steak?

The thought... cow... steak... I felt queasy and I looked for the closest waste basket to throw up in.