Cleaning up

Blade and Whinnyam found themselves in a bar on the outskirts of Ponyville, with friendly staff and excellent Apple family cider; it would have been an understatement to say that Blade loved it. The food wasn’t too bad either; the whole place was warm and friendly, the band was even playing a jolly tune, but despite all of this, Whinnyam couldn’t shake the feeling of malicious intent. The two guards were sat on a padded corner bench with a table made to accommodate the space; they were without their golden armour in order to avoid suspicion.

“Relax, Whinnyam; you’re paranoid, and I don’t blame you. This is your first mission after all, and you want to be alive when you’re a veteran,” Blade remarked casually, slurring his words a little. “This is a small operation though, only one platoon, disguised as travellers, we shouldn’t be noticed. Even if we are the rest of the battalion’s a short march from here” he continued, perhaps a little too loudly for Whinnyam’s liking. He noticed that a few ponies were sitting closer than they were before, and appeared to be listening intently.

“So, Captain, how’d dinner with Nightfall go?”he said, slightly nervously, trying to ensure that Blade didn’t reveal too much about why they were there. He found himself silently murmuring curses at his Captain, who seemed close to dooming the mission because of his taste for the cider.

“Oh, fine. She talked a lot about her sister; took out an Ursa Minor, apparently; that’s some magic shit right there that is,” Blade almost shouted, drawing attention from the entire bar, who had facial expressions ranging from irritation through indifference to an unhealthy interest in the guards.

Whinnyam had failed to notice a dark-coated earth stallion leaving the toilets and talking to another pony at the bar; he was wearing a cloak that covered most of his body.

The band had finished playing, and while the guitarist went to get drinks and the others packed up, the drummer was bored, and was playing a quiet snare-drum roll, punctuated by regular bass drum beats.

The dark pony from the toilets started walking towards the guards.

The drum roll was getting louder; this wasn’t exactly helping Whinnyam shake this ominous feeling.

The stallion dipped his hoof into his cloak...

The drummer stopped.

A dagger clattered to the floor.

Both Blade and Whinnyam noticed, turning their heads sharply to the now non-threat. The cloaked stallion didn’t even have the time to curse his clumsiness before finding the corner table flipped over onto him, bruising him and knocking him down before peppering him with broken glass.

Several ponies got up; some looked interested, while others looked on in shock or anger at those who dared disturb the peace. However, many of the other patrons were still sitting down and paying no attention, as if casual violence was common in The Lucky Shoe. Blade seemed to sober up when he noticed more ponies wearing cloaks, looking like oversized floating napkins. There were five of them.

Despite having drunk enough cider to kill a bull, Blade was still capable of coherent thought; it’s what fifteen years of soldiering does to you. Five of them, and two of us; they look very skilled and we have no armour or weapons. We’ll be slaughtered!

“Captain, what do we do?” Whinnyam whispered into his commanding officer’s ear, expecting him to come up with a plan to save them all.

He didn’t disappoint. He picked up the jagged stump of a bottle, studied it closely, before turning it over in his hoof and looking around the bar, as if he were judging in a contest, all while the napkins silently watched him.

He then threw the bottle in the direction of a table; this was occupied by a large, stoic, red stallion, engaged in conversation with a cheery purple mare. The glass flew, seemingly in slow motion, before shattering the massive glass of cider that was balanced on his hoof. Glass and wasted beer flew everywhere.

Seeing the look of undiluted rage on the stallion’s face, Blade smirked and gave a cry of “BARFIGHT!” before leaping out the window and shattering the glass; it didn’t take much for Whinnyam to figure out that he should probably follow, and they both galloped away from the bar as far as their legs would take them, which for the Captain, was about three metres, before falling flat on his face.

“Bloody ‘ell, my legs are gone” the Captain exclaimed, clumsily getting up, or trying to.

“Get on my back; we have to keep moving!” Whinnyam almost shouted at the drunk, who protested at being hoisted on somepony else’s back.

From their current position, they could see ponies streaming out of The Lucky Shoe, which was in the process of being trashed; punches were being thrown, glass was swung at faces, furniture came flying out of windows, and large parts of the bar were alight. Whinnyam couldn’t help but wonder if the owner had insurance. One of the cloaked ponies stumbled clumsily out of the bar coughing, slightly dazed at the chaos that had just occurred; he was carrying an unmoving cloaked lump on his back.

The unmoving lump moved, and pointed in their direction, speaking to his mount, alerting him to their quarry; the pair began to move in the Whinnyam’s direction as fast as could be expected from a pony being ridden by another pony.

Whinnyam, not having much combat experience, shifted the Captain’s weight on his back and trotted off (for he could not canter or gallop with his burden).

The chase, while absurdly comedic to the observer, was intense for both groups, not least because of the weight, but the predators were incredibly determined to catch their quarry. Whinnyam and Blade saw their determination and exchanged puzzled looks.

“Why do they want our hides so badly!?” Whinnyam shouted at his Captain, in no mood for the respect that was due to his superior.

“I ‘unno!, Jus’ ge’ us outta here!” Blade shouted back, apparently in no mood to think about their motives.

“Can you fly?” Whinnyam said, hoping that he would be able to unburden himself.

Blade lit up at that idea. “Le’s try” he said, before maladroitly flapping his wings and tumbling comically off the Lieutenant’s back and onto his face.

“No” Blade announced, sprawled on the floor, now unmoving.

Whinnyam didn’t have the time to hoist his Captain back onto his back, so he turned to face his pursuers, which were now in exactly the same situation; one sprawling on the floor and one standing, ready to fight. Whinnyam stood facing the other pony, his face showing determination and some fear; the other pony showed no expression under his cloak, but his glowing green eyes creeped Whinnyam out.

“It’s been a rough night for both of us, with the barfight and all, so what’s say we call it quits and leave each other alone, eh?”

The other pony, not hearing his entreaties, simply revealed a hidden blade and then pulled it out with some magic; apparently he was fighting a unicorn. The only thought that crossed Whinnyam’s mind was Brilliant, he’s cheating.

The other pony spat in his face, distracting Whinnyam, and raised his dagger to strike

...and was knocked unconscious by a flowerpot.

Whinnyam, who had already turned around to run in an act of self-preservation, turned back, confused at the sound of shattering pottery, then that of a body collapsing to the floor. Deciding not to question it, he looked at the three unconscious bodies, that of his Captain, and those of his would-be assassins.

He wasn’t particularly enthusiastic when he realised he would have to carry and hide all three unconscious bodies.