Wrath of Humanity

by The Lancer

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Alternate Universe, Human, Princess Luna, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 4878

Let me tell you about a time before Celestia and Luna were your immortal monarches, before there was 'Friendship' Where we forced one race to labour under our noses, and they rose up, and gave us an eternal headache with that punch.

The Solarian Empire, has stood against the bulwark of time for centuries, yet after the death of Solaris, the nation somewhat fractures- Forming itself into the Holy Solarian Empire- and instead simply grows more corrupt and fat every day. Its army unused, a mere show of force, than a rear leg capable of such bucking. To satisfy their labour needs- without having to do it themselves of course- humans were brought in, capable of a variety of tasks, and able to be hardy enough to withstand it.

Yet through all these years the whip has been used, and when something has been seen enough, and when the greatest wall of them all, fear, has collapsed. Solaris help you all.

Published 2017-04-15 20:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-05-27 12:36:07 UTC

Prologue

A slow trotting down the hurriedly cobbled excuse for a road. The rest of the army came along to, their collective hooves making a sound akin to heavy rain- yet that sound too was smothered by the rain. Did we honestly have to come here? He thought, the duke was known to be paranoid and to come down himself simply helped prove how scared he was- to me at least. I was his scribe and assistant, helping him with letters and keeping him informed. My mother had told me that trivia helps no stallion rise up- she was wrong clearly.

Nonetheless this march to put down a ‘human revolt’ was utterly pointless. They were savages, animals who had not yet achieved sentience like the rest of the Noble Races of Equus, my duke had been tricked like this before- to have his army used for the southern counts’ own reasons to hold onto their power. The humans simply remained tame as ever, working in the fields, logging. Yet to mull over such things was useless, they were a useless species in his opinion. Their chance of glory wasted by themselves, those hands were such a gift-such a wasted gift, “Damn this damned, cursable rain.” He muttered, rain was something he did not like, as a unicorn he preferred his inside studies to write things which either interested him, or got him his bread. He would not break the rules of Solaris’ empire after all. The Duke, Land Weaver, had one of the greatest areas of agriculture in the Holy Solarian Empire, and it might’ve added some legitimacy to this little expedition. But not to him, a waste of resources, instead of watching on the slowly growing antelope immigrants from their lands- words of an unfathomably bloody war bleeding from their collective mouths, and the growing hostilities between pony and antelope could become far more serious. Yet instead Land Weaver had states a march south, oh how he hated the rain, looking around the foliage of the forest concealed much, but the lanterns held above on shafts attached to some pony’s harness allowed some light to pierce into the old foliage, growing unchallenged over the other plants underneath them.

All of a sudden, he saw what he thought was some small metal sticks. Ah how beautiful nature was, constantly mocking the Noble Races for their attempts at creation, he turned his head back to the road. Nearly tripping on some cobblestone, he was caught by some guards pony, the teeth grabbing his small cloak and hoisting him up by his neck alone, “Watch it, you want to keep your ‘fancy fur’ clean don’t you?” A grunt in acknowledgement, it was his job, he did nothing to earn a thanks, like he himself got no thanks after the hours of writing- it was his job, and he would do it proudly.

His ears were soaked, he hated that, a horrible feeling. He turned to the duke, of course feeling no anger towards him in the slightest, he was a loyal servant. Yet, he had already expressed his views, to do so again would be to pester, and they had already gone a long way towards their goal. To stop and turn back would be even more of a waste. Sighing in defeat the pony kept trotting on. Then a large thud happened, and something rolled in front of the column of troops and assistants. A nut perhaps? Few people ever came to this wretched forest anyhow, no point was seen in maintaining the weather. Might be some crime to nature that could thrive in such unorganised conditions. But upon closer inspection, he shrieked. It was a severed pony head, the face frozen in one of tearful fright. He was about to shout a understandable reason for his scream, when it was replaced by something far more deep, it was not a single animal- it had to be plenty, and from the forest, ripping that foliage from the tree till it fell underneath their boots, were humans.

Armed humans, humans who did not look very subservient. Humans who were parading dead pony body parts upon long shafts and the like, “How.” He managed to say, his body tensing up ridiculously, humans shouldn’t be capable of their own organisation, the ponies had formed a line facing them, attaching weapons to their hoof-holders. It was clear none of these stallions had ever fought before, and they were terrified. Then the humans parted way, and another human came forth, around a head taller, his mane coloured blonde, and in his hands a clearly used mace. He pointed at the ponies and shouted, to everyponys surprise, and somewhat horror, in the language of the pony, “Surrender or you will face my wrath!” His voice mangled the words, they were not supposed to come from such a mouth, yet he was terrifying, surrendering would be a good idea.

Until some patriotic idiotic shouted, “Come at us then!” The human, although mostly obscured by the rain, actually seemed to smile. It took pleasure in this? How…

Suddenly from the other side of the column another group of humans surged out, running down and cutting at anything on four legs, the leader commanded those on his side to do so as well.

An ambush, well prepared and positioned ambush- such a feat should not be attributed to these beings, they were animals. Had they achieved sentience? Such a pondering would have to wait, as the pony began to run. Fast, back where he came, as he enared the duke he was grabbed by a guard, “Excellent, I knew you were a loyal subject, now assi-“ he was cut off by a javelin to his face, the blood smashing itself onto the face of his assistant. He began to cry and weep as he kept running, his legs began to ache due their long march combined by this sudden outburst. There had to be a way out, he smashed his head around, looking for a place to go. The foliage, there! He thundered to it, only a few paces away. Before getting smashed on the head and his eyes drowned in a sea of black.

Author's Note

Hello, I've had this idea brewing for a long time, and I've tried to put it to 'paper' but to no avail, yet no I'll give it a shot, see if I'm able to pull through and tell you a tale. All legitimate criticism is welcome so long as it helps my writing.

Chapter I

A continual thudding, like someone trying to break down a door. Was my mother trying to wake me up again. Suddenly, a realisation that pain came along with those thuds, a great headache, as if the brain was like the heart, rapidly pumping with fear. It soon came to his attention that his body was soaked, the rain gliding against his body, this image would’ve probably made a nice image. Where it not for the pain, constantly pulsating. The eyes were locked shut, so tired, he tried to open his eyelids. Bloody grass. His body tried once again to remove his already removed breakfast-but to no avail- shivering, shaking. He then noticed the rain, as if playing a game with the thudding head, sprinkling itself in between the constant pain.

He raised his head slowly, his ears starting to hear again, “Your name?” It was the mangled, abomination of a sound. The sound of a human speaking the holy tongue of the Equestrians, it felt so wrong. But those two words got no reply, so the creature spoke again, this time the sound seemed far more natural, but not a word could be understood, his own language perhaps? A new language, why that’d be- His head reminded him that it was in fact still in pain, the pony winced slightly, but then all that was forgotten with the next sound. A crushing sound, along with a horrified gasp, mixed with squelching, he slowly turned his head with his aching neck to his left, there was a line of ponies, all on their haunches, and their front hooves attached to the floor, his attempted movement of his foreleg proved that it was the same for him too. But that was not on the forefront of his mind. The thing that once was the head of a pony lay there in the bloody grass, the skull smashed and blood oozing out. I think I’ve just wet myself. His eyes were wide, he was horrified, he was terrified, completely missing the next exchanging of words. A huge crack came, and a long wail, this killing had been butchered, and the fear was rife, throttling his thought, crushing his stomach.

The mangled voice spoke again, “What is your name?”

“S-sergeant Strong Grip s-sir.” It was the guard who had picked him up, a somewhat familiar face. That fact alone gave him comfort, what else could? The pain in his head was slowly giving away, only to be replaced by a greater realisation of his surrounding- he would rather the headache back- he was cold, shivering, shaking, his nose snotty, “What do you know of your army’s purpose?”

“T-to put down a human… your revolt s-sir.” The human gave him a stare that was filled with hate, “Is that it?” Strong Grip looked up, his steady demeanour from the march whisked away with the sun, “Ye-.” He didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence, the mace fell upon his head, and the blood spewed forth, a splodge hitting the pony’s face. His heart pumped with such force, his gut wrenching, his eyes watering in fear. I want my mother, “What is your name?”

His head had been fixed looking to his right, yet his eyes bad been blank this whole time, stuck in fear and thought. He was drowning in his dread as he slowly turned and raised his head towards the human. He gulped audibly, “N-note Taker.” His face somehow became whiter than it was before, he didn’t say sir. Oh, Solaris please, I don’t want to die, His face seemed to contort into something not resembling imminent death, nonetheless it was still terrifying, with the rain still pitter pattering and his body shivering in the cold, “Who do you take your notes for Note Taker?” He filled those two words with such venom, at least my rear will be a bit warmer now, but then the realisation suddenly hit, all he had to do was be useful. Like he always was, and not get absolutely smashed by the human, putting things in logical positions helped him calm down. Orderly, organised, he formulated what he’d say. But that did not change the fact that he was still gobsmacked with terror, “I take them…” He paused, better to sound more likely to help him, “I used to take them for my duke sir.” His throat was dry, it hurt too, and was vying for his mind’s attention along with all the other muscles and nerves in his cold, soaked body, “Do you remember and know a lot?”

“Yes!” Not Taker said hurriedly, too hurriedly he felt. Oh please let me live… The mangling of Equestrian stopped suddenly, and was replaced by the far more natural sounding human tongue, from the human’s mouth, had he done it? Would he live? The human turned to him, his face had returned to the mask of hatred he had worn during this entire ‘event.’ No, Solaris no please.

“Human please! I know numbers, my memory is good! I know the map of Equestria off by heart, I know the garrisons of the border settlements.” He was degraded, a forlorn hope-his last hope, “Don’t kill me, I can help you please…” he began to fully sob, the droplets of water falling alongside the rain droplets who fell at their own will, onto his back. The human said something in his tongue before walking to where, presumably, there were more ponies in a line. Had he done it? Was he alive. More humans came, wearing their rag-tag covers upon their bodies. He turned his head up and looked at them, they ignored him completely, instead going to his forelegs and releasing them, before promptly putting something around his neck. A collar, yet now was not the time to think on how absurdly degrading that was, even though things had turned up for him, the fear still gripped at him, and refused to let go. He breathed deeply as he was yanked by the humans, away from the line. Another sickening crushing and squelch, he shivered again, his body feeling ill from both what he saw, and how the unnatural and untamed weather grasped at him. Being sick now was not on his list of priorities at all.

After a few minutes of walking he came to a hut, two humans stood guard by an absurdly tall door, probably for their absurdly tall height. He was calming down, his mind now free from the constant complaints from his body and psyche analysed the place around him, the soldiers had some sort of basic armour, only light, metal sheets tied around certain parts of the body-the head having no such luxury- they held axes, haphazardly made, and, to Note Taker’s relief, ignored him completely, instead talking to the humans who had been dragging him too this place, “Get in scum.” The mangled Equestrian caught him off guard, more of them knew this? His skin crawled, it was so unnatural, like everything in this unnamed forest. The door was opened and he walked in, the door closing behind him, a rope being used to lock it. He looked inside the hut, just him then. Best to be fully awake for the next encounter with these strange humans. His mind began to fight a strange war between being utterly terrified, and being ridiculously curious over these ‘humans.’ Should they even be called humans anymore? Maybe they deserved a new name?

How about you focus on not dying instead you fool?

… He didn’t even notice when his consciousness left him to swim in the dark pools of sleep.

Author's Note

Well that's that. Once again any legitimate criticisms along with reasons, and possibly even a way to fix them would be much appreciated.

I hope you enjoy this story c:

Chapter II

The warmth of the darkness would slowly fade away, allowing for the sights and smells of consciousness to climb into my mind. His nose was crushed by the heavy and thick air, tainted by the smell of sweat, excrement, and fear. Note’s head slowly raised from the ground, his muscles sore, but his mind had become active, rapidly outpacing what his eyes, ears, and nose would tell him. There were a significant amount of other ponies, around 12, all cramped into the shack, with barely any room in between them. He stood up, slowly, shakily. The notion of his position had begun to return to his mind, the fact that his life could end. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to survive.

I want doesn’t get. His mother, oh how he missed her, those sweet gliding words. He had originally thought, as a colt, he could maintain their beauty by writing them down. Although that was not true, he discovered his passion for the page and the putting of ink upon it. But he was thinking off track, he had to maintain focus, he would remain alive, he would make sure that there would be few, if any, deaths. The memory of that execution suddenly barged its way into his mind’s eye, and he nearly felt sick, he was getting better at this, no longer getting sick over it! I need to focus! Note Taker thought, abandoning the idea of pacing due to the other ponies either laying stationary or sleeping their terrified sleep. If I am useful, they won’t kill me… He had to be prepared for the worst, and so he changed his mind to the most pessimistic of views. If my usefulness has run its course, they could kill me. But if I maintain it, I could survive, and maybe even bargain…. For the first time, it seemed like Note’s obsession of maps, and knowledge of his world would bear fruit. No knowledge is useless.

Suddenly, much to all ponies in the shack, the door opened fast, and in stepped one of the humans, a far more uniform appearance than the ramshackle men who had forced him into the shack, he pulled a piece of parchment. They had a written language? Were the humans hiding their rise to sapience? How could they have gotten these advancements to quickly- Note was then promptly cut off by the human, who once again attempted to speak the equestrian tongue, “Note Taker.” He stated, pointing towards him, “you come here, immediately.” Note Taker’s heart once again began to try and beat itself out of its fleshy prison, to flee from the humans who would try to destroy him. But Note would comply, attempting to walk over the bodies. He stepped on many of them, but none dared cry out due to the presence of their living nightmare. Each step seemed to slow down time further, his mane was matted from the sweat and dirt, he became painfully aware of the scrutinising of his body by the human, yet eventually, he would make it, once again accidentally trampling on another pony, but no word of apology would come out. His mouth tightened shut by his brain, he had to maintain a hard front, he had to be useful. My only chance…. Note Taker did not challenge the poor-quality collar of rope and probably some animal parts, he shuddered at that thought, as it was tightened around his neck, “Move with me.” Said the human, as Note’s ears fell limp in absolute torment of the bastardisation of his tongue. He moved at a pace equalling the human, attempting to not get pulled by the collar, he had seen the rashes on humans’ necks, he had no intention of getting them himself. He did however, turn his head to see if he could pry any information to feed his plan.

To his horror, he saw some humans, about 30, in rows of 10, all holding spears and holding them in a way which could even been commented to be professional by a drunk, in front of them stood another human, his ‘uniform’ (if it could even be called that) noticeably different, was shouting in the human tongue, prompting the humans in front of him to positing their spears and their own bodies in different positions, before he got out of the way and they actually marched, in line, whilst the one that was presumably the officer barked out orders at them. The similarities between them and the Solarian guard was terrifying to say the least, an organised foe for the Solarian Empire, or its bastard offspring as many had come to call the Holy Solarian Empire, was something that these days was an actual threat. As shown by the rise of the Griffins in the north. The end of the God Alicorns Solaris and Apollo had sung the song of decline for the ponies.

Yet his attention was not to be focused there, instead he turned back to continue walking forward, along with the human with him. They passed a farm, with labourers cutting wheat, a self-organised farm. Whilst it was true that humans could be taught how to work on farms, to make an entire system themselves?

At this point, Note Taker was wondering if he should even be surprised at the humans’ advances. They had built their own little society in the unnamed forest, with a standing army apparently, no matter how small the idea itself was one of the great ones, something that the thinkers of the Empire were constantly advocating for, only to be shot down by the dukes and counts.

Yet after passing a few houses, the human stopped, and Note Taker stopped after a few extra steps, his mind engrossed on these humans. He suddenly noticed that he, along with the human, were in front of a door, a door that after the human’s knocking, was opened by another guard. Note Taker was suddenly yanked forward into the building by this guard. The house was made of logs, a cabin, much like the Crystal Dominion’s houses, they were nice ponies, he didn’t see why so many opposed their full integration as a duchy, or even a kingdom, into the Holy Solarian Empire. It would have felt cosy, the house, yet the fear of a blade to the throat made his spine shiver. At least his heart had stopped beating in such a rapid and fast paced manner. Then they went through another door, and Note Taker saw him.

The leader of these humans, sitting on a desk, writing, with a flag.

A flag. An invention of the ponies, to know where lords sat at parades, and which part of an army belonged to who. First the holy Equestrian language, then the flag? The flag itself however, was rather strange. It had no cutey mark, which all flags had, other species would create their own, even if it was not present on their own body. Yet this flag, was made of bars. Coloured bars, with a human skull in the middle, with a laurel wreath around it. A rather pompous flag for those who looked like savages. Yet the skull… None had seen a skull on a banner since Solaris’ purge of the daemons, although none had seen that. It was legend. Could it be that this human was that great daemon returning? No, that would mean the end of civilization the-, “Hello Mister Taker.” He was cut off by the human behind the desk, his head looking up from writing, “Take a seat.” The mangled words seemed to try and stab at him, he still could not come to turns with the unnatural sound, but he complied with the order, clambering onto an oversized chair, the presence of the guard who had exported him was painfully obvious. His heavy breathing pummelling itself against the nape of Note Taker’s neck. But his attention was then forced away from that, back to the human in front of him, “You said you knew the map of Equestria off by heart.”

“Yes… lord…” Fear began to coil its way up Note Taker’s spine, his mind began to teeter off in the direction of panicstay focused, stay alive. The human then stared straight into his eyes, hostility poorly hidden, probably on purpose, behind a mask of neutrality, “You also know the general size of all garrisons?”

“I had too sir.” The human pondered this answer, before pushing forward a piece of parchment and a quill inside ink. At least they hadn’t caught up with the technology of writing, pens were hilariously more efficient. His thought process was cut off by the feeling of metal on the back of his neck, Note Taker gulped loudly, realising his gaze had gone down, he slowly frightened it, painfully aware of the blade at his neck, “May I use magic?” The human looked surprised at this question, “Why do you ask that, surely that is how you write?”

“There are legal limits on the usage of magic for those outside the-“

“The knowledge of magic is restricted?” The human’s face lightened up, “Explain this, then you will draw this map.” Note Taker inhaled deeply, before he opened his mouth to reply to those skewered words, “When the God Alicorn rose as Emperor Regent for Solaris, he feared he would be overthrown by magic, his magic being nowhere as potent as that of Solaris. Yet he was advised against it, he instead created a loyal group of battle mages.” This seemed to lower the human’s mood, maybe I should lie? Yet the thought was crushed before it gained momentum, for Note Taker had an appallingly bad skill in the art of slander and deceit, so he would continue, and hope for survival, “However, when the blueblood family came to power, they had actual cause to fear, and Emperor Blueblood I would begin to heavily restrict magic, leaving only a hoofull to conduct research, and fight in his wars. For those who use magic for minor tasks, we need a licence, which is noted down in the great library of Gallopallot in the Canterlot palace.”

“This is the city which stands on two peaks?” Asked the human, curiosity etched into his words, had he been a pony and not being to handle whether he lived or died, Note Taker might’ve enjoyed a conversation with him. But that was not the case, “Yes lord, Gallopalot is indeed the city, and capital, which stands on the twin peaks.” The human said something to the guard, in his own native tongue, prompting him to leave the room, his blade sliding down, as far as it could, down Note’s neck and back, before being pulled away and with the human. The leader of the humans then looked back to the Pony in front of him, “So, you will draw me this map, with the centre being here.” He pointed as a little illustration of a village surrounded by some trees, “Draw the rest of Equestria and its surrounding regions.”

With little other choice, and his magic not strong enough to be able to even hold an individual in place, let alone handle the obvious reinforcements that would come, or even if his mind could remain calm the entire time, he drew. Note Taker drew and explained what he drew. He talked of the southern counts whose only wish was profit and whose position under the great unnamed forest gave them an excuse on why they were not able to send troops to put down Minotaur or other minor species’ revolts. Yet also would always come to show how much they ‘loved’ their lord, and how much they should deserve some money for their loyalty. He spoke of the Camel Emirates to the south, how they were one of the few who did not use human slaves, useless in their line of work in trading across the inhospitable terrain. Their species mostly selling the goods made by the Zebraic confederacies, and bring many dyes, spices and the like across the great Suden Desert.

He spoke of the Horseic tribes, slowly being pushed to extinction by the ponies and Zebraic confederacies, forced to wander aimlessly in the plains to the southwest of the Holy Solarian Empire, their occasional raids coming with little to no state retribution. With this he was interrupted, “Horses?” Asked the human, “Essentially ones who are taller, less flexible, and are less coloured?” Note Taker nodded, he was proving to be useful, he had to be careful to not be too useful, that could lead to his proverbial oasis drying up, and the lion in front of him would eat when there was no longer water to distract him.

Then further north, above the forest, was the heartland of the ponies, fertile farmland, with some human slaves present, some forts, relics of the Solarian era, all that remained. Abandoned, whilst the counts and dukes in their castles forgot their buildings’ purpose and instead made them look magnificent, yet impractical in the event of a siege. Oversized arches and spires, beautiful works of architecture, but a single siege engine could topple the whole thing.

To the north, lay the Griffin kingdoms, slowly growing fewer and stronger due to a unification of their species by the great king Goldwing, who stood by the Holy Solarian Empire as both a loyal ally, and treacherous enemy.

There was of course more, but Note Taker had to maintain his usefulness, he could not say everything at once. Then his tongue slipped, his mind lulled into a sense of security, and friendliness with the discussions he had when answering the human’s question, he said, “What next?” In an excited tone, the fear that had coiled around him before gone, but then it had quickly wrapped around him again s the human’s face returned to a neutral one, “You will not know, but you may know what to call me Note Taker.” Note Taker leaned in, a human name, that would be rather interesting, “My name is..." He said something intillegible , to you it is Bringer of War.” He smiled dangerously at Note Taker, “You may be useful, but you and your scum of a race will be my enemy until punished, remember that. “And to that, Note Taker became frightened, and the theory of the daemon no longer seemed to farfetched…

Author's Note

I apologise for the wait people, I will strive to finish this, which I intend to be a generally large story, and updates may or may not end up becoming more regular.

As always thank you for reading and all legitimate criticisms are welcome and hopefully a way to fix them.
I hope you enjoyed thism there'll be more to come!