The Price of Freedom

Once, on a distant planet called Earth, there lived a race of creatures known only as humans. This race, just like their planet, no longer exists. The planet fell victim to the cruel ways of this nation. And the humans themselves have ascended to become something more, or so they say...We believe they've become something far, far worse than what they used to be.

Blinded by their hatred and bloodlust, this race became devoted to worshiping an ancient god of war, blood and death. The humans called him Nor'Kholan.

As they followed the word of their god, they were led on an endless cycle of killing in the name of this god, and Nor'Kholan rewarded his followers. As long as they would continue to spill blood in his name, they would never age, nor would they require food, water or even sleep.

Massive arenas were established just for this purpose, where the disciples of Nor'Kholan would battle each other to earn the favor of their beloved god.

These barbarians knew only how to fight, maim and kill, everything else was secondary to them. Before long, they would even start killing the women of their tribes, calling them weak and considering them useless at the first sign of struggle upon giving birth to their children, thus, most of their women wouldn't even get a chance to live til the age of 30 before they were mercilessly murdered by their own mates.

Even though the shamans tried to warn them against such vile acts, they would not listen, and before long, their entire planet was devoid of any females.

Desperate to keep their race alive, the tribe shamans had to resort to very desperate measures just to ensure the survival of their race. They had to make a decision for which many of the barbarians would loathe them until their very last breath.

Through the answered prayers of their god, this race was able to cross worlds and continue their reign upon other planets. Even though the species inhabiting the other planets weren't the same women they were used to, they were still able to carry their children, the shamans made certain of that.

Unsurprisingly, the same scenario would repeat itself on every other planet they visited, thus, the barbarians traversed the universe, leaving dozens of planets devoid of any life in their way.

It was not long before they found Equestria...

The ponies of Equestria easily fell victim to their brutal ways. The shamans managed to render their magic useless, and the warriors more than twice their size would inspire such fear that none even dared oppose them.

Only some of the pegasi managed to escape their chains, seeking refuge in the sky city of Cloudsdale, but even they realized that if the magic of the barbarian shamans was powerful enough to even render the magic of their almighty rulers useless, then it would surely not be long before they found a way to force them to the ground.

Many of the braver  pegasi refused to sit cowardly by and watch as their friends and families got enslaved, instead, they chose to remain on the ground and help the struggle in whatever way they could, even though it was clearly hopeless.

Not long after their invasion, the barbarian clans settled in and established their encampments throughout Equestria. They had five main clans altogether, and each chose to settle in a spot most suited for them.

The cold-hearted clan of the northern barbarians known as the Iceblood Clan felt right at home near the mountains bordering the Crystal Empire.

Deep within the San Palomino desert, the relentless Sand Wraith Clan would spill blood and paint the desert sands in a color more to their liking.

The Crimson River Clan, the clan that was quicker to evolve and adapt than the other clans, they rested right under Cloudsdale, where they patiently awaited for their clan shaman to figure out a way to bring the sky down.

Among the five clans, the least brutal one in their ways was probably the Red Veil Clan. Their sophisticated shaman led them to Canterlot, where he felt even better than he did back at home. Even though their shaman wasn't the blood-hungry warhound the clan would have wished for, his profound knowledge of the art of war bore fruit. Under his instructions, the clan crafted weapons nearly twice as deadly as any of the other clans.

And then there was the Sons of Nor'Kholan. Just as the name suggests, the warriors of this clan were believed to be the direct descendants of the god they all worshiped. Brutal, fearless, reckless, relentless, cold-hearted and adept at war, this clan was the very pride of their nation, combining together all the strengths of the other four clans. Thus, it was only fitting that their clan rested at the very heartland of Equestria - Ponyville.

The heart of every clan's settlement was the arena, where tournaments would be occasionally held, in which a hundred of the clan's best warriors would battle to win the favor of their god, afterwards claiming their well deserved prize - a night with one of the female prisoners that waited in the dungeons below.

These tournaments lasted 3 days, over which only 6 out of the 100 warriors would be left standing. Since the massive bloodshed would harm the populace of their clans, they had to take breaks after each tournament to wait for their enslaved females to bring new warriors into their clans. The kholanari were not fond of waiting, and neither was their god.

Blessed by their wicked god, the kholanari were granted powerful blood that came with more benefits that just immortality. Because of their strong blood, their offsprings grew at an alarming rate, both inside and out of their mother's stomach.

Shattered, defeated and enslaved, the only hope of ponykind's survival now lies in an ancient legend they had heard among the barbarian tribes.