Prologue 1

“Blessed we are that you have protected us for so long, Great Shaper. All this servant asks O mover of the earth, Is that you watch over us as we make this last march across land and towards civilization. Come morning, we shall look after ourselves.”

The so called servant of the Shaper was kneeling in front a shallow hole filled with some of her former possessions, rough gemstones and broken weapons that had seen many battles. The mare reached into her poncho to pull out a small spade and began shoveling the dirt to bury her belongings.

“From the land life is given, to the land life is returned.” She repeated the mantra spoken so many times in her other rituals as she finished her tribute.

“Shaman.” The mare, having finished her ritual, turned around to see a little orange filly shivering in the cold night. “We’re getting ready to move again.”

“Just finishing up an offering to the Shaper.” The tribal mare responded.

The shaman sat up and shook the dust off her mane and poncho. As clean as she’ll get, she walked with the filly back to the camp they made near an abandoned gas station. “Will we reach our new home in time, Halite?” Asked the filly.

Halite reached into her pockets for a pouch filled with unpolished gems. Giving a shake, she spilled the jewels and gazed down at the first three that left the pouch.

Three emeralds. Peace and tranquility.

The shaman let out a sigh. “We shall. I am eager to see the world where our new language grew from.” She looked past the circle of cloth huts and at the gathered group of warriors huddled around a wall of the station’s store, they were a mixed bag of earth ponies, zebras, and buffalos all dressed in scraps of leather and rags. Curious still, they seemed to be taping red tubes with long fuses to the side of the station.

“For now, help the hunters prepare the dire might for the reclaiming.” She gave the filly a small hug before nudging her to join the other demolishers.

An hour later the preparations were set. The tribe had migrated further down the road and left behind their swiftest to light the fuses tied together. The earth stallion twisted the cap of the flare left behind by their shaman, casting a bright red against the darkness. The second he lit the fuse, he bolted down the road faster than a coyote on Dash.

Seconds later there was a roar of thunder.

Everyone jolted in place as the explosion was much larger than anyone anticipated. More explosions sounded off as the old automatic carriages parked in the lot caught fire and set off the engines. The night erupted into a fanfare of fire and steel as shrapnel rained down.

When the flames settled and the smoke was carried off into the night sky did the gathered masses finally calmed down. They were all in utter shock of the destructive power from such small sticks, the weapons of the old world were truly fascinating.

Staring at the dying inferno, the warriors let out a cheer.

They believe to have done the will of the Shaper. Months, maybe years, down the line they will return to the site, they shall tear down whatever is left using the strength of the buffaloes, they would heal and tend to the scorched earth, and they shall set the way for the land to reclaim the ground once denied with concrete.

And they would repeat this cycle of destruction and restoration across the land.

Because their Great Shaper demands it of them.

“EGAD! Jeremy, did you hear that loud explosion?”

“Indeed Doc Rays, It came from the abandoned library!”

The sound of hooves hammering against a wooden floor filled the silence till a voice was heard again.

“Yes. It was here, this massive hole in the wall wasn’t here last time. Look, plasma residue! The intruders are well equipped, they didn’t use ordinary explosives.”

A brief sound clip of fast shuffling played.

“Didja hear that Doc?”

“Not now Jeremy! I’m trying to find out why they destroyed this particular wall.”

The skittering hooves played again.

“Doc, I don’t think we’re alone.”

“Jeremy I-”

Long drone out groans from multiple ponies were heard.

“IT’S AN AMBUSH! SLEEPWALKERS!!!”

The sounds of magical energy weapons being fired could be heard. Yet as more fires were shot, the groans grew numerous and louder.

In the midst of it all a young teenager’s voice called out. “There’s too many! This might be end, Doc!”

A cry of pain similar sounding to an eagle screech crackled through the speakers.

“Jeremy!” an older voice cried out. “Don’t die on me!”

Click, click, click. The sound of a spent laser pistol.

“Oh sweet Celestia. Not here, not now!”

A scream of terror crackled, drowned out by the zombie like groans of the sleepwalkers.

Then silence.

Followed by a cheery pre-recorded message from the older voice.

“Be sure to tune in next week to find out the thrilling conclusion!”

“OH COME ON!” The entire saloon booed and jeered at the abrupt cliffhanger of the radio tale. From the Member’s Only broom closet a young pink mare in an apron came running out to defuse the situation.

“SO SORRY EVERYPONY!” She announced, patting down her frazzled mane which was various shades of light blue. “I’ll change the station to Jazzside Tunes, they’re finally back on the air!” She grabbed the radio in her orange magic and began twisting knobs until slow, easy going saxophone solos serenaded the ears of every patron in the bar. She let out a sigh of relief as everyone calmed down and returned to their drinking.

From the closet emerged the other occupant, a guard stallion in leather armor returning to his post. The bright pink mare gave him a knowing wink before returning to work at the counter-top.

“Howdy! Welcome to the Bandit Trove, what’s your poison?” She asked the customer.

“Just a sarsparilla please.” Answered the flour white griffon. “I have a lot of work to be done.” He dropped a clawful of caps onto the counter while the barmaid reached under the counter with her telekinesis and producing the soft drink.

The griffon reached in to grab the bottle but recoiled as soon as he touched it. “By the Egg, that’s freezing!”

She giggles at him flinching every time he reaches for the drink. “I do try my best.” The barmaid answered. She grasped the soda in her orange aura again.“All unicorns who work here have to learn the frigid touch spell in order to cool all the drinks we serve.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. The sarsparilla began to grow a layer of frost over itself.

The catbird raised an eyebrow. “That’s a neat parlor trick.”

The pink mare didn’t answer. All her focus was on the freezing bottles.

“Um, ma’am?”

She heard him this time and released her grasp on the soda.

As soon as she broke concentration the spell dissipated, the frost rapidly melting into condensation. “Sorry about that, spell casting takes a lot out of me.” She explained, wiping sweat from her face.

The pale griffon didn’t pry further and returned to his drink with a shrug. That is, until she propped her forehooves onto the counter and leaned in. “So tell me, what brings you to this little stop along the Great 117?” She asked.

He tried to brush it off. “Why do you care?”

“Is there a problem with getting friendly with a new face in town?” Without looking the young unicorn slid a shot glass full of scotch down the counter-top to a waiting patron. “There’s your answer, how about returning the favor?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

He wanted to shoo her off. He wanted keep his journey a secret. But the ones waiting for him were expecting a path to follow, and he no longer knew these roads. He needed the help.

“My name is Clayton. I’m what you might call a tour guide.” He confessed. “A group of tourists are coming and they asked me to help them navigate the civilized lands.”

Civilized. A keyword that helped her clue her in. “You’re helping tribals.” She guessed.

He nodded. “I used to belong to a team that assisted the savages by bringing technology and culture to them.” He downed half the sarsparilla in one long gulp. “But everything has changed since I was here years ago. I didn’t want to admit that to them. They turn to me for guidance.”

“How far back are we talking?”

“For starters, this town wasn’t here.”

“Oh my.” The barmaid held a hoof to her chest. “That’s decades back.” The blue-maned mare offered a gentle smile. “Well you’re in luck, my next shift is delayed for another hour or so. Which means I’d be more than happy to help bring up to speed on the history of 117.”

Part of Clayton was relieved, while the other half was still cautious.

“And pray tell, what would you be getting out of this?”

“You’re a paranoid little birdie ain’t ya?”

“I have to be.” He downed the last of his drink. “I’ve been on the run for weeks. Hell, I don’t even know your name”

“Well then just consider this getting to know my new neighbors better.” The pink unicorn cleared her throat and started explaining. “This here’s Broken Bit; the cheapest four walls and a bed you can afford to live in along the Red Vein. This little gutter town was created for those who were too poor to live in Jazzside but too sane to live in Hubris City.”

Her orange aura reached out for two more Sunset Sarsparillas. “We exist ‘cause of the brewery up the hill making drinks for the Bandit Trove. A partnership between Cider Brim and Teeny Tipsy; yours truly.” She held out her forehooves out in a ta-da gesture.

Tipsy popped the caps of the sodas and levitated the spare to Clayton before continuing. “I guess you can say we’re also the reason the town hasn’t amounted to much. Everyone’s too busy drinking or ogling Cider’s girls. Hell, since Red Eye’s death he even started allowing them to sell themselves.”

Clayton began choking on his sarsparilla. Pounding his chest until he finally calmed down and looked at the barmaid in shock. “Red Eye’s dead?!” he roared.

All customers turned their eyes to the feathery lion’s outburst.

“Ignore him!” Teeny held a bottle of scotch in her forehoof. “Free shots on me as an apology!” The crowd let out a cheer and started ordering more booze from the waiters.

With everyone distracted again, Teeny Tipsy leaned in to hiss at Clayton. “Keep it down!”

“Sorry but this is news to me! How? When?”

“The when?” The barmaid lifted a hoof to her chin. “I think it was about...four, five weeks ago.” She nodded, certain she guessed right. “As for the how, The Lightbringer.”

“The what?”

“Not what, who.” Tipsy corrected. “She was a random stable dweller that emerged from stable a few months back. In all that time, miss holier-than-thou amassed a following and squashed three armies under her hoof.” Her voice held awe as she recalled the Lightbringer’s feats.

“If what you say is true, and Red Eye’s dead, why would you start selling your girls now?”

“First of all, they’re Cider’s girls not mine.” She took another swig of sarsaparilla. “And secondly, he wanted in on the slave trade now that the biggest competition is gone.”

“And you’re just going to work with a slaver?”

“Oh come now, Clayton. It’s not like we’re putting collars on them or keeping them in cages. We offered all of them the choice to make more and they said yes.” She began chilling more drinks in her magic.

“But we’re getting sidetracked.” Tipsy Continued. “With the death of Red Eye the route began eat itself alive. Towns were liberated from his followers, only for new gangs to form to take the new territory. supply lines were free from the taxes to operate in Red Eye’s land, only to be attacked by raiders. the list goes on.” She levitated enough drinks for a table of four to a waiter’s platter.

“I picked a bad time for a homecoming didn’t I?”

“Let’s just say by year’s end we won’t be calling it ‘The Red Vein’ because of ol’ windbag anymore.” Her smile was playful but her eyes held fear of what might happen next.

“Fuck.” The griffon rubbed his eyes. “And here I was hoping that I might finally enjoy some peace and quiet.” He chugged down the ice cold sarsaparilla in one go.

“Hoping to drown your sorrows in soda?” Teeny teased.

“You’d be thirsty too after covering all your food in salt.” He retorted.

Tipsy raised an eyebrow. “Why would you do that?”

“Bitter Crystal tradition.” Clayton explained. “Salt’s a mineral and they believe eating rocks will toughen their skin or something so they put it on almost everything they eat.”

“Bitter Crystals being the tribals you’re trying to help out?” Tipsy deduced. “You must’ve made some weird friends out there.”

“Those weird friends are the only reason I’m alive.” He dropped another clawful of caps onto the counter. “Another, and continue about the changes along 117.”

Just then a dull roar of an explosion rolled through the bar.

Everyone stood up in panic, trying to find the source of the blast.

Teeny Tipsy found the nearest window to look out of. “What in Celestia’s name was that?!”

Clayton calmly looked out at the billowing smoke in the distance. “It must be them, they must’ve gotten out of hoof with the reclaiming ritual.”

Teeny turned to look up at the white griffon. “Reclaiming?”

“They believe the buildings of old slow down the progress of their deity.” He nodded towards the black clouds. “So, they tear them down using dire might.”

“Dire what?”

He blinks. “Sorry, I meant dynamite.”

She stares, baffled. “Where did savages get dynamite?!”

“I gave it to them.” He let out a sigh. “Looks like we’re going to have to save the lesson for tomorrow.”

He grabbed a wide-brim hat from the coat rack and made his way to the door. “Come on, your gate works on a two pony pulley system if I remember correctly.”

“Why would we let them in!”

“It’s like you said, you should get to know your new neighbors better.” With that, Clayton left for the entrance to the town.

The mare was hesitant. If they were this destructive she would be the one responsible for the death of Broken Bit. But maybe, if she could befriend these ‘Bitter Crystals’ they could benefit the town in a way the Bandit Trove never could.

Tipsy gulped down her fears and made her way to the gate.

In the distance, an army marched down the road to civilized lands.

Author's Note

As the chapter title suggests, this is the 1st introduction to one of our leads. Stick around for the 2nd one.

(Thanks to KKat for writing Fallout: Equestria.)