Damaged goods

Damaged Goods

Prologue: Heroes and Horrors

By: Elwynn13

"The dream is over."

What is the nature of a hero? This question has been the topic of many an argument all over Equestria, from Appleloosa to Hoofington. The answers vary massively from pony to pony, running the full gamut of concepts, from the obvious (strength, courage) to the…unique (circumstance, recklessness.) However, the one thing that every single pony arguing about heroes seems to forget still holds true: there's more than one type of hero. There's the kind that everyone has heard of and looks up to, the image of the masked crusader of righteousness and morality. Then there’s the less noticed and more morally shaky types of heroes that will do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if what they have to do is more evil than whatever they were stopping- the ends justify the means.

        Why is it, then, that so many forget the working-class heroes, the salt of the earth? Unlike the masked guardian, or the morally-gray whack jobs, these folks rarely have anything going for them outside of their own skills and knowledge- they don't have any real powers or traits that truly help them in their journeys, relying purely off of their friends, family, and previous experiences. Interestingly enough, the most recent example of this kind of hero (at least, that was mentioned) could be considered the elements of harmony- a group of (outside of the leader, who was, and is, Princess Celestia's personal protégée ) completely normal ponies, who have already stopped two chaotic evils in a short period of time, purely through the "magic of friendship."

        Very few seem to realize that almost no heroes choose their roles, with most having their quests or missions thrust upon them- an excellent example is the Equestria key, even if he proved to be very spontaneous and destructive. Even now, with strange tidings throughout Equestria, many wannabe heroes are rising to the challenges presented to them, attempting to stop the recent influx of necromancers and demons… and being brutally murdered for their attempts at being better ponies.

        Old zebra tales foretell of a group of six that will, in Equestria's darkest hour, rise up to assist the very heroes that have saved it time after time. Much like the elements of harmony, these are six beings that are foretold to be able to control great elemental powers: the elements of Wind, Fire, Nature, Darkness, Water, and Light. It is foretold that each bearer of an elemental power will be forced through multitudes of trials and tribulations, in order to prove their worth- not that anypony honestly believes in the tales of the zebras, at this point in time. even now, as the skies get darker and the winds get more frigid, many have begun discarding this tale as yet another old mare's tale- after all, not one of these mythical heroes has shown to the public eye, and you can only hold out for so long before you lose hope. However… just about everyone discarded the tale of the Mare in the moon and the elements of harmony as just another silly story, and look where that got them- if the elements hadn't made themselves noticed, ponykind would be living under a perpetual cover of night for over three years at this point in time.

        The legends of the return of Destruction and Despair proved to be scarily accurate, with the skies turning an eerie shade of black, the Canterlot mountains beginning to break apart, and the binds between multiple mortal realms beginning to tear apart, all of the signs were there, and the reappearance of the Equestria key, and his subsequent disappearance have done nothing to soothe the fears of the few ponies in the know, Princess Celestia herself included. Even now, Equestria tries to return to how things were before discord's initial return… with little success. Even the nearby Griffon empire has been forced through tough times, with their economy falling apart.

        No, life in Equestria certainly isn't as perfect as it was in the  past, with necromancers, demonic spirits, and the very ground itself heaving with the fury of the ancients all coming to light, all one can hope for is a budding hero to come help them, or die trying. Still, life goes on, and, like many other races have in the past, ponies have begun to adapt to their new, and much less peaceful, surroundings- all ponies, except for the inhabitants of Ironpony pass, who have lived in the northern stretches of Equestria, the harshest place to reside. This has led them to live in constant paranoia for hundreds of years… yet, in these troubled times, their violent and nervous ways may prove to be a lifeline for all of ponykind…

-Southern Hoofington, 1:13 AM.-

        A group of four ponies, all wearing the same uniform of leather barding, trot along silently through the night, escorting a wagon filled with equipment for central Hoofington's royal guards- the Hoofs’ been attacked very frequently, being in an indefensible location. Amongst the group is a crème colored earth pony mare with a silvery mane and an impressive set of daggers hanging from her flanks, an amber-colored unicorn stallion with a scarlet mane and a sickle held in his telekinesis. The other members, who are trailing behind the caravan ever so slightly, are an unarmed dark gray pegasus mare with a cobalt blue mane, gliding above an ink-black, undersized, unicorn buck with a dark gray mane who seems to be carrying a pipe wrench on his uniform.

        The crème mare speaks up. "At this rate, we'll have this cargo to the guards by dawn. I can't believe our luck- we've avoided every potential disaster so far, from that explosion near Ponyville, to the crumbling bridge mere minutes ago!" The mare practically cheers at the fact, much to her colleagues' chagrin.

        The black buck glares at her. "Every single time you brag about our luck, it goes sour. Remember our last job? You bragged that the bandits were pathetic, and we got attacked by demons.  You comment that we've made it without casualties, and I step on a pitfall trap. My leg is still healing, you know," he says in an irritated, tired voice as he carefully adjusts his barding with magic.

        The amber stallion, who practically towers over the other three, stomps loudly on the stone walkway. "Both of you, quiet. We don't need all this noise and these…" he glances around the area. "…ruins are a freakin' breeding ground for bandits. Whoever made them the easiest way into the Hoof proper, I'd love to feel their blood run over my sickl-"

        The crème mare interrupts him with a hoof to his lips. "Please, we don't need to hear about your fantasies. We all have enough issues as is, thank you very much," she quickly states in a pained tone. Her ears perk up. "Do you hear that, Ochre?" She asks, her voice filled with concern.

        The amber stallion shakes his head. "I don't hear anything. What do you think you're hearing? Bandits, or just Blackhide being careless with his weapon?" His voice rumbles out. The black buck shrinks back from Ochre, obviously frightened by stallion who could probably cave his head in.

        The pegasus mare speaks up. "I hear it too. It sounds like dozens of hooves stampeding in our direction..." She realizes what she's saying. "Crap! Everypony, get your weapons on the ready. Ochre, let Blackhide take the hits. He seems to be the most durable.  Do not let them get the cargo at any cost!" She hisses.

        The swarm of bandits descends rapidly upon the group like a swarm of locusts, tearing at them with switchblades and bare hooves. Ochre makes a good show of slicing, hacking and ripping at the bandits with his sickle, occasionally stepping on a bandit that tries to get too close for comfort.

        The crème mare continues stabbing the various attackers with her pair of daggers, wielding one in her mouth and setting the other, pointing outward, on the side of her uniform. “Celestia damn it, do these bastards ever stop coming? Kill one, and two take their place… Ochre, Midnight, Blackhide? How’re you three holding up?” She asks with audible stress, sweat dripping down her forehead as she retrieves her dagger from the dirt- the bandits have figured out how to disarm.

        Midnight continues rolling in the dirt, struggling with the bandit on top of her. “Could do with a little help, even if it means using Blackhide as a shie-” That’s as far as she gets, as the assailant on top of her finally gets a clear slice at her neck with a surprisingly sharp switchblade. The colt keeps slashing at her as she chokes on her own blood, and with a final gurgle, dies.

        Ochre growls and charges at the assailant, plowing into him. “You. Do. Not. Hurt. My. Colleagues. Unless. It's. Black. Hide! ” He snarls, punctuating each word with every slash of his sickle, the final cut tearing through the cartilage in the bandit’s neck. With a sickening thud, the corpse hits the ground. The head, on the other hand, gets caught in his telekinesis and stuffed in his saddlebags as a grim trophy, earning him a pair of disturbed looks from his companions. "What? The fucker deserved it, alright? Stop looking at me like that or you'll be next. You especially, Blackhide." The colt in question immediately averts his gaze, sneaking towards the fallen wagon. He quietly grasps a singular gray orb in his magic and pockets it. Just in case this defense fails, the buck thinks grimly.

        All the while, the crème colored mare is having a tough fight against three separate bandits, all wearing makeshift barding clearly made of weak fabric. It would hardly absorb a weak kick, much less rigorous stabbing. The biggest of the bandits, a mare with a light brown coat, takes advantage of crème's momentary distraction, and tackles her. The pair slam into the ground, a loud snap sounding as the bandit's full weight snaps crème's spine.

        The bandit gets to her hooves and dusts herself off. "Two down, one to go…" She mutters to herself with a small grin as she picks up the fallen guard's daggers. She sneaks towards the huge stallion, sweat beading on her forehead. If she screws this up, she's as good as paint. As she nears the stallion, a whistle is heard.

        An average sized, yet powerful looking, orange-coated earth pony mare with a white mane whistles once more, and amazingly, every single bandit in the ruins stops attacking for looting, and moves towards her. "Alright, all you bandits. Listen up… first, restrain the big stallion. Second, somepony tie up the little buck," she shouts with a voice full of authority. Right on cue, six bandits swarm Ochre and pin him down. Even with his ridiculous amounts of muscle, the Stallion couldn’t do much to six normal-sized ponies. A large buck tackles Blackhide, and while he's stunned, ties him up. The mare sifts through the wagon's contents quickly. "Right, now that those two are taken care of, listen up, this shit's important. Firstly, good job on taking this caravan, we had received word that it contained some impressively valuable relics, and, from looking at these…yeah, it does. Secondly, take the big one back to the bunkers. I have plans for someone of his sheer power, and he seems easy enough to manipulate." She chuckles creepily and her eyes meet with Blackhide's. "As for the little one, leave us alone for a few minutes." Blackhide gulps. This is not going to end well for me, he thinks with a surge of panic.

        Sure enough, every bandit in the area works on dragging Ochre off to… the bunkers, wherever those are. After mere minutes, the area consists of the wagon, the bandit mare, and Blackhide. The mare calmly sits down in front of the black buck. "So. I bet you're wondering, why did I choose to spare you? Truth be told, I think that you have potential."

        Blackhide raises an eyebrow. "Potential? Me? Erm…I hate to point out the painfully obvious, but…I hid that entire fight," he says with concern in his voice. You don't want to be snarky when you're unable to move.

        She pulls a knife from under her armor and cuts his binds loose. "Look, I may be a bandit, but at least I recognize someone who deserves freedom when I see him. Your friend there, he'll never truly be free- he's practically an organic weapon on his own, so he'll probably always be watched, no matter where he goes. But you? You're runty, nondescript and, judging by the fact that I only noticed you because of your magic’s glow, rather sneaky. All three are good traits to have these days, especially for someone who travels a lot. But, to the point. I want you to deliver a message to the owner of this caravan. If you do this, I may even let you join my tribe.” Blackhide rises to his hooves slowly and looks around, trying to spot a safe way out of the ruins. “Stay right there, Blackhide. Deliver this message.” She leans in and whispers something in the black buck’s ear. “Got it?” Blackhide nods vigorously. “Good. Tell your employer that it’s from Maple Thorn. He’ll know what it means. Now… Get. Fucking. Moving. Or. I’ll. Send. The. Entire. Tribe. On. Your. Undersized. Flank!” She roars at him, and he takes the opportunity to gallop out of the ruins as fast as he can, terrified out of his skull. “Seems like a nice stallion. I kind of hope we meet again, preferably under more positive circumstances,” she mutters under her breath.

        Blackhide gallops on through the night, making haste for Appleloosa, a trading post docked in the middle of... nowhere.  The rain continues, increasing in power and quantity until it's a torrent of water perpetually coming, without a single break. He takes refuge in a cave for a couple minutes to take stock of his equipment, and to move his wrench into his saddlebags. No reason to let it get rusty… I may have a use for it…eventually. Not that I fight, or have any need for a weapon in my daily life, his thoughts shifting haphazardly as the torrential downpour continues outside. He sighs. "May as well bed down here for the night, I doubt I'm going to get anywhere in this rain," he mutters nervously to himself, looking around the cavern.

         The cavern is of the kind found in so many places throughout Equestria – bland, barren, and just deep enough to get out of the elements. At least it's dry enough to start a fire, or it would be if I had anything to light, or if I had anything to start a fire with, Blackhide thinks with disdain. Well, I guess I'll just get some shuteye in the corner- just a couple hoursssszz… Blackhide falls asleep on the spot, not even moving deeper into the cave before drifting into the embrace of sleep.

- Nondescript cave, northeast of Appleloosa, 5:19 A.M.-

        Several hours later, the lone black buck gathers his possessions and trots off into the early desert sun, the sand already starting to heat up under his hooves as he makes haste to the southwest, to the small town of Appleloosa which was barely noticeable in the distance, a lone island in a veritable sea of sand. The sun has begun to rise, signaling the finale of yet another night, if the nights ever begin, that is, Blackhide muses as he trudges closer and closer to the town.

-Appleloosa north gate, 8:13 A.M.-

        After much uneventful walking, Blackhide finally reaches the town and immediately makes a beeline for his hotel room to dump his equipment- he has things to do, like snag a bath and take that artifact to some sort of wizard- perhaps one of the town's few wizards could explain what the artifact is, and why Maple Thorn's bandits were willing to kill for it and the other artifacts…

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Blackhide: Trait added.

Runt

Due to your small size, opponents have a more difficult time landing a fatal blow on you, or maybe your luck's just working overtime. Who knows?

(Author's note: Well, here we go. If you have any criticisms/ advice/ anger issues, feel free to place them in the comments. Hell, if you want to, feel free to chew me out in the comments for having shit for brains. Whatever you want to do. Massive thanks to Jaico for making this tripe worth reading, and Anunymau5 for letting me set my story in his universe!)