Dragoon from the Taurian Isles

by HB_DS2013

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Adventure
Length: 789

An Equestrian-born dragoon returns home to find that the Royal Guard is inept beyond comprehension.

55-year old Strong "Renkhar" Gale becomes too old to serve as a dragoon, but instead is able to retire home to Equestria.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-01-25 07:33:28 UTC

Prologue - Donning the Armor

I took a deep breath and opened the door. The room was empty save for a lone weapon rack with room for one weapon and a mirror next to a ponequin. The spear had a long, metal shaft that had the width of a standard spear, but slightly thicker. It was almost twice my size and at the end of it was a long, double edged blade, resembling a longsword. Iwhistled in wonder as my namesake glistened in the sunlight, then turned to the armor rack, the entirety of which had a black and purple color scheme. The helmet consisted of a chanfron shaped like a dragon’s head. It concealed most of the ponequin’s face and neck save for the lower face. A pair of serpentine fins stretched above the eyes and extended to the back of her head. I also noticed that the eyeholes were slightly narrower than that of a pony’s but larger than that of a dragon and seemed to glow a white aura.

I looked down towards the chestplate and whistled at the chest area. Below the helmet was a purple breastplate with large, segmented chunks of metal layered on top of each other like dragon scales. It wasn’t so tightly wound together that the wearer wouldn’t be able to move, but definitely helped defend against a frontal attack. Next, the top half had armor reminiscent of a changeling’s carapace, yet was most likely made to allow movement, concealing an iron shirt made from metal rings linked together and felt rough like snake scales. Then, both the forehooves and hindhooves wore a pair of streamlined boots with fins at the back, the differences being that the forehooves were more like bracers and the hindhooves being actual greaves.

Finally, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and yawned. A mane of brown fell down to my shoulder, accentuated by a lone red streak running down the left side of my head. My sight was somewhat blocked by a pair of bangs, one of them almost hiding my right eye and a smaller one allowing me to see. Eyes of gold darted around as my orange hooves smoothed the mane, only for cowlicks to appear on the scalp. I stared at a raised forehoof.

The charcoal bracers are still there. She thought for a moment and turned around, setting down her hoof.

Years of training left my body with cuts, bruises and tone muscles, especially regarding my flank. Not that I care or anything. My tail is like my mane in that it looks disheveled on purpose.  I took a glance towards my flank and gave a raised brow. They were a trio of red claw marks reminiscent of wings over a golden ring, the middle one having a slight resemblance to a feather. Two small, silver four-pointed stars were to the bottom left of the ring.

Whatever that means. I shrugged. Most of my friends' cutie marks literally showed their talent while hers was more ambiguous. It was always the ambiguous cutie marks that had broader meanings and a wider range of talents.

  I sighed and donned the helmet. Memories flooded down my mind, images of ponies and minotaurs running with armor so heavy it considered immobilizing. Sadness welled up in my heart, manifesting as a single tear. Once a group of elite spearponies, their decline was the result of Equestria transitioning into a time of peace.

I adjusted the greaves and tapped the floor with my hindhoof. It felt snug but heavy, as if wearing heavy hoof weights. On the other hoof, the bracers weren’t as heavy but concealed most of her forehooves. Next were the chest plate. The color scheme made it harder to find the band holding the two sides together. Taking a deep breath and sitting down on my haunches, I had an easier time putting on the chainmail shirt and found a harness for the bottom half, then fastened it to my stomach, using the mirror as a guide. Next, equipping the top half was somewhat easier since it was similar to putting on a cloak.

With the armor on, I smiled to herself in the mirror. All the pieces still fit me even after years of neglect, and now found a new reason to don the dragoon armor once more. Taking my namesake from the weapon rack, I twirled the weapon and retracted it in a swift motion, attaching the weapon to my back. It also shrunk into the size of a pencil, which I perched on the side of my armor.

Well, time to show the Royal Farce what a dragoon is capable of... I sighed and trotted out of the room.