Fallout: Equestria - The Eternal Winter

by Timeless Toaster

Rating: mature
Tags: Alternate Universe, Adventure, Crossover, Dark
Length: 1887

A Ghoul travels beyond his tomb

Stalliongrad; once the center for industry in the north during the Pony-Zebra War, now a tomb to the undead and the mad.
So what happens when a Ghoul is suddenly in the caretaker role of a young, very alive filly?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-09-19 22:59:02 UTC

Introduction

War.

A simple word, yet one with many different meanings. For many, it is what you call a clash between nations that has drawn all of their citizens into the bloodshed. For those who serve, they say that it is hell on earth. Witnessing your friends and comrades be cut down in front of you shows the gruesome reality that is war.

Then you have the ones who say that war is fun.

For those who say this, they are usually the subject and witness to a long-term tour of duty, forced to put their very lives on the line with each waking moment. Having to come to terms with your very mortality on the battlefield can cause sheer amounts of stress on those who have served for too long.

For some, they can go home and get therapy to help them through whatever plagues their mind.

Then for others, the only treatment they can find is a single bullet.

When war broke out in Equestria, the citizens were taken aback by the sheer brutality of their newest foes; the Zebras. Their fanatical devotion to their Kaiser drove their war machine across Equestria. In the beginning, Equestrian soldiers were terribly ill-equipped and were not ready for the brutality put before them. In an act of desperation, Princess Celestia ordered all of Equestrias’ factories and manufacturers to begin producing equipment for the war; Uniforms, weapons, ammunition, vehicles, it all was needed. This order came down the hardest on one of Equestrias’ northern cities; Stalliongrad.

The ponies of Stalliongrad were a proud bunch, and gladly accepted the massive undertaking of fueling the Equestrian War Machine. Having the most factories of any Equestrian city, Stalliongrad quickly became the center for manufacturing in the North, next to Fillydelphia down on the east coast of the nation.

So naturally, the city painted a target on itself, one that the Zebras would gladly strike at. And much like the research hub of Hoofington, Stalliongrad became one of the top priority targets on the Zebras’ attack list.

The Zebras’ attack came out of the blue; literally. Dragons that had allied with the Zebras dived from the sky, bringing hellfire down upon the snowy city, catching the military off guard. However, the attack was short-lived when Anti-Aircraft batteries in and around the city began to shoot the dragons out of the sky. Sensing that the attack wasn’t over, the defenders of Stalliongrad began fortifying the cities’ boundaries. Tanks, soldiers, even aircraft and pegasai began pointing their guns to the skies and land that encompassed the city.

And hours later, the true attack began.

The Siege of Stalliongrad became famous even during the war; an ongoing confrontation to the north, where the snow was stained with the blood of the fallen. Rumors began circling that it even snowed red flakes instead of the normal white flakes, thanks to the sheer amount of blood spilled above the clouds. Ponies on the frontlines in other parts of the war told stories of the brutal street-fighting that occurred within the city, spinning yarns of false heroes, fictional acts of valor, and the patriotic spirit that dwelled within each of those soldiers. For years the defenders of Stalliongrad held on to what they treasured most; their city. There was no loss of supplies, the military used the materials produced in the city straight off the production lines, throwing everything they had at beating back their attackers.

Then during an early morning surprise attack, the Zebras suddenly ceased fire and retreated. The ponies, confused by this sudden retreat, were put on edge, waiting for the next wave.

Minutes turned to hours, hours turned into paranoia, spreading throughout the trenches and command areas within the city. But, the attack never came.

What came instead burned the land around them, poisoning the air and scorching the inhabitants within the city, turning the war-torn ruins of Stalliongrad into a tomb to all who had fallen. After the initial strike, a crypt like silence fell across the land. And as the silence fell, magic of the foulest nature began filling the lungs of the dead, causing their corpses to rise and shamble through the streets of the fallen city. Many lost their minds and began putting themselves through a loop of sorts, living out the final moments of their lives as mortals, unable to accept the fact that they had already died with their city.

Then there are the few who managed to keep their sanity, but not their appearance, forced to live as living corpses in a dead city. Many manage to make a living of the conditions they now endure. Life is tough, but has become routine for the Ghouls of Stalliongrad.

However, when a living being unknowingly enters this City of the Dead, events will transpire that will cause those trapped within the city to step out of their purgatory and into the winter hellscape that is known as the Northern Equestrian Wasteland.

Captain Suicide presents:

Fallout: Equestria

The Eternal Winter

Prologue: The Nightmare

“Just Giggle at the Ghosties…”

My eyes lazily cast themselves out of my bedroom window as I lean back in my desk chair, viewing the industrial skyline that was Stalliongrad. From the countless smokestacks, black, acrid smoke rose into the winter skies above, their ash gray coloring blending perfectly with the snow-heavy clouds.

No doubt the snow will be turned gray from the ash and soot, having long lost its’ innocence long before falling to the land below.

Turning my gaze from the window back to the terminal sitting before me, my hooves lazily type across the keyboard, drafting a message intended to be sent to a subordinate of mine. This particular subordinate had been a pain in my flank for the past two months, complaining that their work space wasn’t spacious enough or air conditioned just the way they liked it.

Their solution?

They decided to complain to their high up (me) until he passed the message along to his higher up, who is known for being a total jackass and will most likely send a rejection letter back down the line, only for the subordinates’ high up (still me) to get another whiny message on his terminal the next morning. I swear, this little fucker is going to be the end of me. If I get one more complaint about a damn seat cushion, I’m going to-

“Cherno, could you please come down here?” calls an angelic voice from the staircase. Spinning in my desk chair and jumping to my hooves, I trot across the oak floorboards towards the staircase and down them to the sight of my wife, Harp, with a look of worry on her face.

“What is it my dear?” I ask, giving her a quick kiss on the snout, but this did little to improve her mood.

“The street. There’s a convoy passing by.” She says simply, pointing a hoof to the street outside. Normally, the asphalt gray street would be empty save for the occasional farmer and his cart. But this time, a stream of armored vehicles and tanks rumbled along the road. Beside the machines of war, solider ponies in full combat uniform marched in unison, machine guns and rifles slung over their backs with steel helmets on top of their heads. Suddenly, a jeep rolled up to the entrance to our walkway, and out stepped an officer with his assistant. Harp and I exchanged looks of surprise before I open the door and step onto the porch.

“Captain Lancer, what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, raising a hoof for a hoofshake as the captain approached. He did not return the gesture. Instead, he stared at me with a hard, haunted look. His assistant, a unicorn mare with the rank of Corporal on her sleeve, cleared her throat and telekinetically withdrew a clipboard from her saddlebags. The clipboard floated before her and a few of the pages flipped up, a series of names written on the pages.

“Cherno of the Bolt family, you are here by drafted into the Grand Equestrian Red Army. You have ten minutes to pack your belongings and to say goodbye.” She said simply, a pencil floating out now to check off my name before putting her clipboard back into her saddlebags. I turn to look at my wife, tears rolling down her light green cheeks.

At this point in the war, when you were drafted into the army, it meant that the military needed soldiers desperately.

And at this point in the war, being drafted meant certain death.

Nodding, I turn from the two soldiers and approach my wife, terror gripping my heart. As soon as I was close enough, she sprang for me and hugged me tightly, her tears staining my chest as she wept.

“What will I tell little Atom when he gets home…?” she hiccuped, pulling back to look at me with puffy, red eyes.

“Tell him…” I hitched, trying to control my composure. “Tell him I had to go to work.” I say. “Tell him I got called in for some overtime. I’ll be able to take him to the zoo when I get back.” I say, weaving a lie for my wife to tell our colt. But I knew Atom wouldn’t believe what Harp said, he was a smart colt for his age. He wasn’t oblivious to the world around him, he’ll piece it together.

“Kiss me before you go to pack…” Harp said, her voice barely above a whisper. I lean in and lock her lips with mine.

Her cold, hard lips.

Confused, I pull away and give a scream. Instead of an angelic beauty before me, a skull stared back at me with black, hollow sockets. Panicking, I release the bones from my embrace and they clatter to the ground, breaking upon impact from their surprisingly brittle nature. Stumbling back, my eyes cast up to the ruins of my home, the walls scorched and blown apart. Looking back, I expected to see the Captain and his Colonel, but instead, my eyes landed on the sight of a machine gun nest, its’ crew nothing but bones and riddled with bullet holes.

A final stand on the lawn of peace.

Above me, the sky was a sickening green and shone with malevolent intent. In the distance, the industrial skyline of Stalliongrad was obliterated and glowed the same sickening green. My eyes casted up further to the clouds, thick and heavy with rain. Suddenly, and explosion rocked with air, forcing me to scream in pain as my eardrums imploded from the sudden pressure change. In my pain, I spotted a cylindrical shaped item piercing through the clouds above. My eyes trailed the object, following it until it reached a few hundred feet from the ground.

That’s when it erupted into a violent explosion.

Immediately, intense heat began cooking my coat and skin, boiling away my muscles and tendons. Following the heat, a tremendous force impacted my form, liquefying my eyes and internal organs into a soupy nature. Finally, a wave of green fire enveloped me, cooking my bones to charcoal before a final force blew my bones away, dust in the wind.

And this all happened so fast, I didn’t even have a chance to scream.