In a brown, ruined land, which was once green and beautiful there were vast hordes of the monstrous creatures known as newfoals, who smiled like idiots while they blindly charged to their death straight into a metaphorical grinder of death.
The newfoals themselves were small, alien horse creatures, only about crotch high. Their eyes were nearly as big as basketballs. Their heads too were rather very oversized. In fact, their bodies seemed to defy the laws of physics, for it would be very unlikely for them to be even able to stand up with such big heads.
Their bodies in general were brightly coloured, cartoony abominations of all colours of the rainbow, which seemed to distort reality from all around them. It was like as if these beings didn't even belong in this universe. They were literally living cartoons of pastel horses, so they were very out of place.
On the plus side, the newfoals had rather nice, big fat bubble butts. Even in war, beauty can be found.
Each newfoal carried small, glass vials of glowing, purple liquid, strapped around them with a belt.
The newfoal's tactics... if they can be called tactics were purely suicidal in nature. The plan was simply to charge, lose as many soldiers as possible by waiting until the enemy runs out of ammunition from killing them, then get in close and soak them with the purple stuff. Such 'tactics' would make Zapp Brannigan proud.
Things only became more difficult for the attackers with a massive wall, made up of thousands upon thousands, if not millions of corpses blocked access to the enemy position. The wall only growing bigger and bigger, as the newfoals came at the defenders like as if they were the tide coming in at the beach.
The newfoals were undeterred by this obstacle. They simply climbed over the hills of mangled corpses of their fallen brethren, before proceeding to make yet another pointless charge, in which they would be torn to pieces in mere seconds. Many of which didn't make it over the hill to the other side, the mere appearance of their oversized head over the corpse hill gave the defenders an easy shot, and add yet another corpse to the wall.
The newfoals, only made it... slightly further than before, when the enemy needed to reload.
The enemy line was smothered with a series of barbed wire, sandbags, beach umbrellas, a hell of a lot of very angry defenders, concrete bunkers with a roaring machine gun in each, which spewed out bullets.
Large amounts of massive machines were among the defenders, unleashing a storm of high explosive rounds over the wall of corpses, taking out huge swarms of newfoals with a single shot, their bodies shattering into a pile of bloody glue and making the land in general look like a most dull, grey fireworks show.
Hours went by, yet the newfoals continued to come. The wall of corpses only growing bigger and bigger.
Until, out of the blue, the newfoals came to a stop, standing in place before the wall of corpses.
Among these newfoals were the odd one behaving unlike the rest. These ones would yell a series of insults at them, like 'Move You Whorse' or "Get Your Lazy Rump In Gear.'
The newfoals did not react, seemingly lost to the world.
The defenders took full advantage of this period of peace to grab a quick sandwich, a cup of coffee, or in some cases a simple cigarette.
A moment later, the newfoals lifted their head to look up to the sky, where they saw droves of golden beams quickly make their way to the ground.
The beams touched the ground just beyond the defender's wall of barbed wire, beach umbrellas, sandbags and bunkers. The ground was melted beneath them, leaving behind smothering magma in their wake as they slowly slithered toward the defenders.
The defenders quickly descended into full blown, disorganized retreat. The defenders screamed in terror, fleeing for their lives.
Unfortunately, more beams descended from behind their line, cutting off their retreat.
These 'beams' did not just randomly move about, they moved with a purpose by relentlessly chasing their prey. The beams were indeed careful to avoid hitting the newfoals and alien horses alike.
Unlike, the newfoals these beings stood upon two legs, which they used to run as fast as they could, whilst the beams cut through their fortress's defences like a knife through butter.
The beams' prey were humans, of many... many cultures; skin colors of; light pinkish white, dark brown, black blackish brown, yellowish brown... and even blue, though very few were blue.
In the end it did not matter, all were indiscriminately killed by the beams. The humans cried out in anguish, as their bodies were turned into ashes when a beam touched them.
It seemed, whoever was controlling these beams was bored playing games with the stubborn defenders and just wanted it over already.
The beams moved slow, but nonetheless it did not stop them from catching their prey. The beams would simply surround them, cutting them off from escape, before closing in on them to go in for the kill.
These beams were present across much of the planet, killing every human in sight.
Even those underground were not safe. For the beams would just come together to form a thicker beam, and use their newfound power to melt the earth blocking their way from reaching their prey.
Once the beams cleared an area they would simply fade away, leaving behind piles of ashes, melted earth and raging fires. Death stalked the world, human populations were dropping like flies, their ashes blowing in the wind, representing what remained of much of humanity.
In many cases, entire clusters of humans were huddled together, saying their tearful goodbyes before being turned into ashes. One such group of humans, were dressed in woodland camouflage in the middle of a dense, burning pinewood forest. These three humans appeared to be soldiers, all young and fit, light pinkish white skinned males, standing back to back while they waited for death.
"Well, someone must of done something to piss Princess Celestia off." spoke a man with a strong Irish accent, who had lovely long, curly red hair.
"In any case Seamas, it has been an honour fighting alongside you these past few months." spoke a man with a deep, very boring voice, who had short, brown, boot camp haircut.
"Me too." said the other guy, who also spoke with a deep, very boring voice. The only real difference was that this man had a jet black, short, boot camp haircut.
"Who are ye two again?" asked the Irishman.
"What?!" they shouted at the same time.
"Sorry, but ye two are just so boring copy and paste cunts of character that look like ya just came out of a Call of Duty game."
"Now me, at least I have some degree of fucking character, shite as it may be. But compared to ye two, I might as well be the best fucking character ever." he added.
"You goddamn Irishman!" shouted the guy with black hair.
The other guy with brown haired said something nasty too, but Seamas didn't listen to him, choosing instead to take out his trusty, silver whisky flask.
"One last drink for this Irishman." he said with pride, imagining himself hearing traditional Celtic music in his ears.
Seamas turned the cap, before raising it to his mouth. The beams however began to close in on him before he could finish his drink!
Truly, life was unfair to not allow a man to finish his drink.
Fortunately, the beams suddenly disappeared mere meters away from him... and the other two.
"Hah, we're alive!" said the brown haired one.
Suddenly, there came a flash of light, followed by the appearance of a small snow-white foal with a flowing pink mane at the Irishman's feet, causing the other two to jump backward out of fear.
Lost, confused and cold the filly immediately began to cry loudly, her tears dripping down her cheeks like a waterfall.
The other two stared in complete shock as the Irishmen, without any hesitation whatsoever picked up the crying filly, taking her close to his chest. Immediately, the filly stopped crying, her huge eyes looking up at Seamas with a look of pure joy upon her face.
“Awww, aren’t ya just adorable!” Seamas beamed happily.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?! That’s Princess Celestia!” the black haired one yelled.
“Kill it!” the other simply shouted.
"She's just a baby! Ye bastards!" Seamas shouted, glaring at the two.
The brown hair one growled angrily, pulling out a revolver, proceeding to immediately shoot the filly in the head… only for the bullet to not even leave a scratch on her, the bullet simply shattering upon impact against her super strong body.
On the plus side, the bullet did make her giggle.
“Fucking overpowered horse!” he roared, tossing the gun away over his shoulder.
“Awww, but Celestia’s so cute now. I’m gonna raise her like a father.” said Seamas.
“Whatever, I’m outta here.” said the black haired one.
With that the two walked away without a word, leaving Seamas and the little foal known as Celestia alone.
“Now, let’s get ya some whisky little one!” he shouted excitedly.
The foal clapped her hooves together, a most joyful look upon her face.
To Be Continued
Author's Note
I might continue this. Depending on the reception this receives and I don't hit writer's block . Don't see much point in making something so long when I think it will be hated.
If you like this idea, feel free to make your own version of it.
