The Hive Warsby Regal TomeChaptersThe AmbushA Reforged BladeEt dolore magna gloriaIn this sign you will conquerDarkest hourThe AmbushSomewhere near the Equestrian border The four figures stood in silence. Huddled around a circular stone dais, the only illumination coming from faintly flickering runes inscribed in a circular script on the table. Each figure wore plate armor, damaged in various ways from torn pauldrons to shredded knee joints. Defeat cloaked their shoulders, wrapped around them tighter than the oppressive darkness of the bunker itself, devoid of any natural illumination. “Four of us,” said one of the figures. “So four officers are left.” Another grunted, “There could still be more, not every squad has been accounted for yet." The first hissed in naked contempt, roughly grabbing her helmet with sweat stained hooves and dashing it across the table. “Have you been blind for the last thirteen hours? How many formations did we lose in that assault?” The third figure leaned forward on the stone dais, his golden armor reflecting the faint light in the room. “We can’t know for sure, not until the final reports come in.” “Blatant optimism” sneered the first, “My equerry was killed, I personally saw Charging Blade and Proud Standard ripped apart by the changeling artillery right before my eyes, who is left to compile those reports!” The fourth, silent until now, spoke up “We’ve all suffered pyhric losses today, as the remaining officers of this campaign we have to wring order from this chaos.” “What of Ebon Hour?” The second figure asked, "I last saw him with the thestral honor guard and the 5th locked in a melee with the left flank, I lost track of him before the next wave.” The fourth figure rolled her shoulders as if releasing the tension would alleviate her frustration, “He ordered his 1st company mages to hold their ground to buy time for stragglers to get behind our faltering lines.” “How very gallant, so he got himself killed and lost our only potent magic artillery company and Princess Luna’s elite bat pony honor guard detail in the process,” Replied the first. “At least we will no longer have to deal with the undue influence he garnered with the crown” the third joked. With a constrained groan the central dais fully activated with the rune network displaying a full three dimensional display of the battlefield above them. While the quartet studied the magical display a knock came from the reinforced steel door that served at the entrance for the command bunker. “Yes!” yelled the first as a tired looking Pegasus in scorched armor peeked through the door. “Sir, we have three more formations entering camp.” “Name them,” Replied the Second. “Their battle standards mark them as the 5th assault company, 8th infantry and……the 1st royal mage company.” The aperture of the command bunker swung fully open on its hinges as a newcomer entered. The unicorn in the doorway wore the golden armor of an officer in the Equestrian guard to match his four kindred, accompanied by a flowing red robe in the color of the royal mage corp. Part of his charcoal mane was seared off and two shallow cuts crisscrossed his exposed azure shoulder where several plates of armor were damaged and missing. He’d come alone, but he’d come armed, a curved blade of dark metal with a jeweled pommel rested across his back. “I hope you’ll forgive me for my tardiness, there was an ambush. You may have noticed it.” He walked up to the stone dais with the others. The fourth figure nodded,“It is good to see you Captain Ebon Hour." “I’m sure it is,” he remarked as he rolled his eyes before appraising the magical projection of the battlefield. “Our losses are on the wrong side of hilarious, but you know that well, Captain Silent Strike.” Said Pegasus rolled her eyes before starting on her summation, “We have pooled our remaining forces into 5 cohesive formations made of the surviving companies, giving us a decent mix of infantry and artillery.” “Our real loss has been accrued among our pegasi chariot cavalry, they have been decimated by the changling assault, with only a third in any condition for combat.” “They weren’t decimated,” Ebon Hour said, almost absentmindedly as he dropped his sword onto the table, ignoring the resonant clang of two conflicting magical fields. Silent strike glared at him, “I beg your pardon.” “Decimated means reduced by one tenth, it’s more like they were killed to one third.” The second figure grunted and pointed an accusing armored hoof in Ebon’s direction. “The point is we went into this battle blind and we barely have an army left.” “You know, this really won’t do at all, out of the entire command for this campaign you four are the ones I like the least,” Ebon quipped. “Please be serious,” sighed the fourth figure. Ebon Hour had a way of smiling, first it reached his eyes, sparkling in amusement, then tugging against the corners of his mouth like an unfamiliar reaction, not understood, and only preformed in simulacrum. “Captains Silent strike, Amber Bolt, Gale force and Lemon Lynch,” Ebon motioned with one hoof before continuing. “You will lead what remains of this army into another slaughter if you think we can regroup and muster another assault on the southern hive.” Captain Silent Strike raised her lip in an involuntary tick of disgust before replying “Our honor, our Princess demands that we avenge the slight payed to us by these degenerate insects today! This campaign will succeed or the southern hive will only reinforce Crysalis’s forces engaged in the east with the other divisions of our army.” “I won’t let you destroy our remaining forces to avenge imaginary slights on our imaginary honor,” Ebon Hour leveled, his words were calm but his gaze was intense and bore directly into Silent Strike. “Brothers, sisters, fellow Captains, let’s not let the heat of the moment overwhelm us,” Captain Lemon Lynch stated, “Captain Ebon Hour, I can see the logic of your stratagem, and Captain Silent Strike I fully understand the veracity of your need to resolve all our feelings of defeat,” Lemon Lench raised her front legs outward in a gesture of inclusion and fellowship, to which the assembled captains collectively raised an eyebrow. “Attempting another assault would be suicide for this Division and I won’t allow it,” Ebon confirmed. “Duty demands that we fight, are you craven unicorn?,” Silent snarled as she came around the table to plant a hoof in the center Ebon’s chest plate. “How would you stop us from staging another push?” “I’d kill you, of course. But let’s hope it dosen’t come to that. Emotions are running high and my sword is all the way over there.” Ebon gestured to where it lay on the table. Captain Amber bolt sighed. “If you are finished acting the fool, may we focus on the matter at hand?” “Focus on it all you like, I’m going to see my troops,” Ebon stated as he began to move towards the exit. “Your sword, Captain,” Captain Amber bolt motioned to it from the center of the room. “I will be back for it soon enough, enjoy your discussion Captains.” Ebon Hour walked from the chamber, his silhouette passing the hallway until it was out of sight. “I grow weary of him,” Silent strike breathed under her breath. “When we rebuild the command it would be best if he were…unable to join.” Captain Lemon Lynch’s ears folded to her head, “Just what are you saying….” Captain Gale force slammed his hooves down on the table as he spread his wings in defiance, “Why the spineless turn of phrase? I’ll kill him myself if it comes to it.” Lemon Lynch was shocked by her fellow Captain’s words, but her attention was soon locked on Ebon Hour’s sword, resting on the table. The blade was forged out of a solid metal, most likely black moonstone, with a wicked edge reminiscent of the curved swords used by the saddle Arabian magi. But what caught her attention was the bright jewel set in the pommel of the sword and the magical signature it carried. Having fought at Ebon Hour’s side many times she knew it’s purpose very well indeed. Ultimatly, after the various changeling infiltrations and the siege of Canterlot Captain Lemon Lynch trusted none of her fellow ponies implicitly, so when the pommel of that sword began to glow a dazzlingly bright blue and her teeth began to itch with the onset of displacing air pressure and the smell of ozone she was the only one of the four captains not surprised. She was also the only one galloping for the door. The assassins appeared in a storm of bright blue fire and magical mist. As the captains recoiled, raising futile hooves to ward off the blinding light, all three knew just what the thunder heralded. Silent strike and Amber bolt reached for their weapons, which was why they died. Gale force almost made it to his attacker, almost. Lemon Lynch never stopped running. The Thestral honor guard manifested across the chamber, wreathed in a dissipating shroud of powerful teleportation magic. The arcs of swirling spellfire around them slowly feed back into the pommel of Ebon Hour’s sword. They advanced as one in their massive suits of onxy armour, bat like wings flared as they kept their heavy crossbows raised. “ We have come for you,” Their leader growled in a deep ruinous voice. Captain Lemon Lynch heard her colleagues die, heard their cries echo across the short hallway, a bolt caught her shoulder guard, burying itself deep into the war plate but not piercing her hide. She skidded around the next bend in the underground command bunker, running for her life. Captain Lemon Lynch lay panting around the next corner, she looked up to see Captain Ebon Hour, leaning non-chalantly against the wall. “Hello Captain,” He said. She was rising when the squad of bat pony executioners rounded the bend and raised their crossbows. “Stand down,” Ebon said. “This one gets to live.” Lemon Lynch almost spat, “How generous of you.” Ebon Hour Chuckled before replying, “I thought so, too.” “Why did you kill them?” Lemon Lynch almost screamed at him, moving so she wasn’t facing the imposing bat ponies, “ What reason could you have for shedding pony blood! You traitor!” Ebon snorted then waved a hoof back towards the site of the massacre, “Don’t you think they were behaving a little oddly?” Lemon Lynch just glared in defiance. “Why don’t you go have a look,” He lit up his horn in a seemingly threatening manner, though his expression was utterly bored, “I insist.” As Lemon Lynch tiptoed around the corner, back into the war room she saw a more heinous site than she imagined the first time. Instead of the valorous bodies of her four fellow captains there lay the sickening corpses of four changelings, dressed in pilfered guard armor. “How……how did you know?” Lemon eeked out as she fell back on her haunches. “They mimicked our fellow captain’s mannerisms perfectly, they must have been watching us for some time.” Ebon Hour said as he began to trot out towards to the exit, the hulking thestrals following behind him. Lemon just stared back in confusion, “So how did you know!” she shouted after him. There was no reply, as she picked herself up and made her own way out of that charnel house she did not know what frightened her more, how easily the forces of the enemy had infiltrated the inner circle of her division…..or Captain Ebon Hour. A Reforged BladeDay broke over the campsite, the tattered remnants of the once proud 2nd Division having been trickling in all throughout the long night. Slowly,but surely, several of those formations thought lost and those commanders thought damned arrives, reverent like, from the mists of the battlefield. ‘They say that cutting off the head of the snake is the best way to achieve victory,’ thought Ebon Hour as he perused the latest quartermaster’s report, the ink still fresh on its pages. ‘If that’s true then we had better become a hydra,’ he mused briefly from the seclusion of his personal tent. A loud clearing of a throat outside the entrance flap announced that he was not alone. It was of course far from practical, and a bit ridiculous, but in the absence of doors one had to make due. “Come in,” Ebon flatly stated as he rolled up the scroll in his magical grip and placed it into a crumpled pile in the corner with many others. A stern looking pegasus in the gilded armor of the guard emerged halfway through the tent’s aperture “The ponies you summoned have assembled in the command bunker”, the stallion said. “Thank you, Quick Fix,” Ebon replied to his equerry, “Remind me to have a chat with the quartermaster about the wonder of last century’s accounting breakthroughs, such as double entry.” Quick Fix smiled slightly before replying, “I’ll get right on that sir.” Ebon Hour got up from his weathered portable desk, “We all know that this southern theater of the war is a sideshow of a side show, but I swear to the solar crown this will be a successful sideshow.” Gathering his crimson and gold edged mage robe from the back of the chair he paused a moment to study his reflection in the small desk-side mirror. His charcoal mane was shaggy and unkempt, draping frenziedly over the sides of his horn, his eyes were then drawn to his cutie mark, his namesake, an antique clock, with both hands on the 3:00 am mark. “Captain? Is everything alright?” asked Quick Fix. “Yes,” Ebon replied in a monotone, eyes not leaving his cutie mark, a frown slowly creeping on his features. The gaze lasted an extra few seconds before the reverie was broken, Ebon slipping on his robe and trotting outside. The camp was quite a different site during the day, rows upon rows of white dots filled the horizon, contrasted against the rocky, barren, reddish hue of the terrain. The image struck Ebon hour as strikingly graveyard-esq, the metaphor unsettling as his rational mind knew that one third of those tents were empty. ............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... The map room of the command bunker had been cleaned since last night, though a few traces of changeling ichor gleamed bright and green streaks across parts of the floor and walls. I had asked Quick Fix to find and assemble the ponies mentioned on the list I had given him, those same ponies had now begun to trick in. First in was a tall unicorn, his crimson robes of the same order of magi, he and Ebon hour did not embrace gauntlets like others in the guard might, but instead regarded each other for a long moment. “Ebon,” the unicron nodded. “Bright Bulb,” Ebon Hour replied. “You look like you died on the battlefield and forgot to stop walking.” Bright Bulb jested before taking a seat. “So I hear, how is your squad holding up?” Ebon placed his hooves on the central dias and started up the runic projection of the surrounding territories. “Still a wreck, that stunt you pulled didn’t help either. We had almost stemmed the breach in our lines when you and your vanguard pulled back through the enemy envelopment and put everything back into dissaray.” “What can I say? Sometimes tactical cowardice is the best way to seem valiant.” Ebon ruffled about in his robe for a moment before bringing out a small glowing gemstone and plugging it into the side of the dais. The projection flickered for a moment then re-ignited with a different image. Bright Bulb frowned “I’m flattered to be here, but I’m curious, why choose me?” “Nepotism, Unicorn superiority preference, perhaps I just want to rebuild the command of this theater with ponies I actually like.” Ebon Hour replied before leaning back into his chair, steepling his hooves together. “Ebon, please. Be serious” “Because I trust you, and you’re an awful liar. The pacification of Munda-muka may have also factored into my decision.” Bright Bulb grinned gleefully,”The magi enjoyed that night, let me tell you”. Munda-Muka was a medium sized zebra settlement on the southern border, one of the many zebra factions settled in and around the south changeling hive. This particular tribe hazing been ensorceled by the changelings love magic and used as thralls fight the Equestrian forces when they passed through. Magi Bright Bulb and his company had taken the city without a single drop of blood spilled, though through means few of the campaign’s commanders were allowed to know. The entire affair was sworn into secrecy and none involved would comment on it. Ebon Hour knew what happened. He liked that story. Another pony came through the door as the pair of magi looked up from their seats. The lithe Pegasus Lemon Lynch, only other surviving member of the high command, trotted skeptically into another of the open seats at the table. “I confess that I have no idea why I am here,” she said. “I suspect that will be a recurring theme,” Ebon shrugged. “The others will be here soon, we have to plan the division’s future.” ............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... Sargent Deep Trench of the 12th infantry. He’d failed to distinguish himself as an line officer, soldier or rational actor in all his years of service to the crown, beyond the base level of honor inherent in two decades of solid service to the crown. And yet.....he had ordered his squad to stay and assist in Ebon Hour’s fighting retreat through the enemy lines, so the good Sargent apparently wasn't a thinker. Ebon Hour could live with that. Lieutenant Holly Springs of the 4th sky chariots, a striking white and blue pegasus mare. Her natural tones blended into the sky so well that Ebon often thought she had been magically enhanced in utero to preform just such a function. She had risen through the ranks at the point of a blade as often as she had by merit of deed. Not Ebon’s first choice, but they had history and debt were owed. Just thinking of them made his mane itch. Magi Bright Bulb and Captain Lemon Lynch were natural choices, or so natural as could seem under the current circumstances. With the introductions made and every pony settled Ebon Hour stood up and addressed the room. “You will help me lead this broken division. You are now each raised to the rank of captain in the royal guard. Any questions?” Ebon’s eyebrow shot up as he scanned for raised hooves. Several of the new captains exchanged glanced. Lemon Lynch shot up, “That’s your greeting? That’s how you tell us?” she scowled. “Yes.” Ebon didn’t blink. “Did you expect a speech?” “I don’t know what I expected.” She replied. “Then why do you sound disappointed?” Lemon Lynch sputtered, “I...” “Any real questions?” Ebon Hour sighted as he reclined back into his seat. “I have one.” Spoke up Deep Trench. “Why us?” “Because the rest of the command are dead.” Ebon said, idly miming a throat cutting gesture with his hoof. “Obiously,” Holly springs said, “And how exactly did they die?” “I killed them, or rather I asked the Lunar honor guard to kill them,” Ebon Hour leveled his gaze at her, “ The changelings killed them first, I disposed of the replacements.” “As ambiguous as he is making it sound, it’s true, the rest of the captains were replaced by changeling infiltrators,” Lemon Lynch offered. “Allright,” Deep Trench admitted, “What do we do now?” “Now,” Ebon pointed a hoof at a large X that market a space on the projected map between them,”We get to work.” Et dolore magna gloriaThey had mustered in the small twilight hours of the afternoon. Several formations were clustered around a rock outcropping on the outskirts of the nearby settlement. It had been almost a half-day’s march from the campsite, but Captain Ebon Hour and Captain Deep Trench had finally arrived with their squads. Captain Holly Spring’s forward scouts had reported possible changeling activity in the area the day before; now, they knew the source. “Either we have the right place, or this is the cleanest Zebra village I have ever seen,” spoke Ebon Hour as he, Deep trench and their squads checked their weapons and wargear around the outcropping, a mile away from the village. The late hour threw sinister shadows across the landscape, mixing the violet hues of the coming night sky with the dull red of the broken earth. “Captain Springs’ report confirmed the presence of a sizable changeling presence, there is no doubt this village is compromised,” Trench continued, “The Equestrian accords state that we must assemble our forces within sight of the city’s border for a period of two hours while a formal missive of war is delivered.” Ebon Hour sighed, “That,” he pointed at the city “Is not a sovereign entity, not a nation state, it has no rights even if it was not being puppeted by the changelings.” He drew his saber, “Besides, I didn’t even get to use Trottccam’s razor in the last battle, something we will have to get nice and close for.” Deep Trench raised an eyebrow. “Trottccam’s razor?” “It’s what I call my sword,” Ebon Hour grinned widely, “Because it’s the simplest; most effective, solution to any problem”. The small force then assembled into fighting formation. Ebon wasn’t overly confident of their chances in a protracted assault, their division had been bled for months by the southern Hive’s hit and run tactics, cutting off the army’s supply lines from Equestria proper as well as any orders from Canterlot. The result had been to reorganize the surviving units into a leaner, but not necessarily meaner concentration of force. Currently, the force assembled before him consisted of three, five-pony infantry squads, armed with guard issue patrol spears and one, four-pony royal mage squad. It was much reduced from the sea of gold and red that shimmered in the Zebrican sun only a few months prior, but it would have to do. They advanced towards the town, the zebra sentries easily spotting them from afar. Before long a sizable force had mustered outside the main gate to the town, composed mainly of Zebra tribesmares and several Changelings flitting above on segmented wings and chittering words of command. The Equestrian forced halted 100 meters from the enemy, each side staring each other down. "Which one is the unit commander?" Captain Trench whispered into Ebon Hour's ear, "They all look similar to me, the changelings that is." "All those flying over head that we can see are just drones, the foot soldiers and infiltrators, the leader of the force will be a Gland-Dame, or for a larger force a Hive princess. Two different breeds, possessing larger brains and analytical ability for strategic thinking." Ebon drew Trotccam's razor in his magical grip and leveled it at the armored Zebra at the head of the force, "My bet is that she's hidden in amongst the zebra soldiers." "It will be difficult to disrupt their command structure then." said Deep Trench as he drew his own weapon, a embellished spear with two flowing writs of commendation trailing down the haft. Ebon Hour smirked at him, " An astute observation,it will be almost impossible given that they operate as a hive mind." "Indeed." "And they told me you weren't a thinker, tsk tsk." "Wha..." but Deep Trench was cut off as the Zebra army began to charge, still about 80 meters out, a furious frenzy glazed their eyes over. Most of them were wearing little to no armor, the changelings hanging back and firing globs of viscous green gloop that settled in large clumps where it hit. "Avoid getting hit by that, you'll get stuck and we'll lose unit cohesion," Ebon Hour charged up his horn, preparing a spell, "On my mark." The other magi fired up their horns in a likewise matter, the charging zebra 60 meters out now and closing. "Brace for charge!" ordered Deep Trench, his infantry squads advancing up to form squares and surround the two captains as the charging zebra column neared ever further. "Now!" Yelled Ebon Hour as he and the assembled four magi all unleashed bolts of shimmering violet fire from their horns, traveling in an arc and slamming into the enemy ranks. Several Zebra were disintegrated on contact, after the initial impact the spells splashed onto the surrounding soldiers, igniting striped coats and searing exposed flesh. " Veracity's Vibrant Volley." One of his favorite spells, Ebon Hour thought, he then scrutinized the enemy lines, they weren't breaking as he hoped. The Zebra continued on in their charge, clashing into the anti-calvary squares that Captain Trench had set up. Ebon had been hoping that the spell volley would demoralizes their troops enough that their charge would falter and perhaps damped their morale enough to follow up with a counter charge. The hold these changelings had on their love-thralls was truly despicable, to render a thinking, sapient being into little more than a marionette, dancing on strings of chemical affection. The superior numbers of the enemy came crashing down as tribesmare's met the spear wall with hoof and tooth. Several of the zebra were armed with bludgeons or their own crude spears, at a ration of almost ten to one the second wave pummeled the Equestrian forces. Royal mages were slinging fireballs and blasts of pure force between gaps and openings in the spear wall, so far a solid tactic, each rent in the mass of enemies followed up by a magical barrage. But it could not last, the first guardsman fell in a wild swing of hooves as a changling that had disguised itself as a particularly lean zebra uncloaked and sunk its long gleaming fangs into his exposed neck. "We can't sustain this!" Deep Trench shouted over the din of combat, "We will be overwhelmed in a matter of minutes, how long must we hold this position?" Ebon Hour brought Trotccom's razor up in a swift arc, rending a large gash in the side of a lunging zebra. "The anvil must hold until the hammer is ready." Forty meters out, on a hill to to the east overlooking the raging battle stood a soure yellow earth pony in carefully artificed heavy guard armor. Arrayed behind her were the remaining might of the 2nd division. She raised her gilded warhammer high over mane and shouted "The iron is hot, let the hammer strike!" as the righteous hoof of Celestia that was Captain Lemon Lynch leaped into a full gallop down the hill towards the battle, her forces hot on her hooves. In this sign you will conquerThe square was about to break, the Equestrian forces were disciplined and well armored, but the sheer weight of numbers was grinding down heavily upon the defenders. Ebon Hour fired off a quick succession of weak shield spells to the guards in the spear-line in front of him, they would only hold for one blow or so but it was an advantage none the less. Golden plate met reinforced leather and wood in a cacophony of blows, Deep Trench was doing his fair share demolishing any zebra that broke through the line with his reinforced steel shoes. By any calculation the bulwark was about to crumble, like a crack in a dam widening inch by inch the flood of zebra was slowly pushing it's force through the weak parts in the formation, and then; the world lit on fire. A deluge of golden armored ponies crashed into the Zebra besiegers, in a spearhead formation that cleft the striped army into two bloody groups. A heavily armored earth pony led them, her golden armor ornamented with a flowing gold script that started at her hooves and curled upwards, resting at the crest of her helmet. "Nice work Captain," Ebon shouted as the charging force plowed past, "We were a hair's breath away from being killed to a mare but I'm glad you were able to make a flashy entrance." Lemon Lynch swung her warhammer around in a shimmering arc, the reactive fire gems mounted on either side of the head activating and reducing a lunging changling to ash. "Indeed, it seems your penchant to devise suicidal plans is underlined with a small degree of strategy." "I do what I can," he ducked under a charging changling and whirled Trottcam's razor upwards in an arc, slicing off one of the insect's segmented wings. With the arrival of the rest of the 2nd division troops and the devastating cavalry charge the zebra forces were routed, divulging into two uncoordinated groups. "I suppose we should capitalize on this momentum," remarked Ebon as he hurled a fireball at said one winged changling, immolating it with a heavy impact as the two masses collided. "I sincerely doubt it will be as cavalier as you jest but...," Lemon Lynch paused to smash her reinforced helmet into the side of a zebra warrior, following up the attack with a chitin shattering blow with her warhammer. Ebon raised an eyebrow, "Going to finish that thought?" "I believe it speaks for itself," the sour yellow mare smirked as she waved a hoof to draw the attention of the rest of her squad. She nodded as Deep Trench gave chase to the remains of the main zebra column and gave several staccato orders to her lieutenants. "Sol formation, spread out and purge any survivors," the Sol formation was one of the numerous combat strategies that Princess Luna had reintegrated into the Equestrian military since her return. The sergeant or magi stood at the center of the formation, the heart of the sun, then a first concentric ring of 6 soldiers armed with pikes surrounded them, the killing rays, next a second concentric ring of 10 soldiers armed with a mix of longswords and shields circled the first, the blazing corona. Ebon Hour had made sure the division was familiar with it before they re-engaged the enemy in any larger conflict, it was extremely useful for deterring stealth or flank attacks by the ever pernicious changelings. The two sol formations spun out into the village proper to catch any stragglers or infiltrators attempting to blend in with the remaining members of the tribe too young or old to fight. As he watched the heavy cavalry re-form and pursue the fleeing column after their charge, something struck him as odd. "Did this seem.....too easy?" Ebon queried to no pony in particular. "What?...What do you mean?" responded Lemon Lynch as she pulled off her helmet and shook her curled brown mane free. "I mean that it appears we just routed their garrison force with almost no effort, that doesn't strike you as odd?" Ebon replied before continuing, "Our division was almost annihilated by the Southern Hive's trickery back at the pillars of Dantium and now all of a sudden one clever envelopment has them broken and fleeing." As Lemon Lynch contemplated this a great rumbling overtook the valley, starting as a lazy shaking and growing with every second until it peaked in a cacophony of earthy plates groaning in agony. "What in the name of Celestia's teats is that??" she shouted over the din. "I imagine it's the aforementioned trickery," Ebon yelled, "Form up on me!" he shouted to the soldiers in the immediate vicinity that could hear him. As he frantically surveyed the state of the battlefield he noticed the only ponies not pursuing the routed Zebra forces or sweeping the distant village were his and Lemon's immediate command squads and a hoof full of others. "This is dire, we are spread too thin to repel another wave, but from where will they strike?" Lemon Lynch all but hissed. Her question was answered with thunderous certainty when the ground burst open in a legion of large holes, with bulbous grub-like creatures spilling out of them. They were each the size of a foal, with their translucent skin betraying the glowing sacs of volatile bile beneath. As soon as they emerged the repulsive creatures curled themselves into balls and streamed, as tightly coordinated lines, into the tentative position occupied by the Equestion forces. Ebon Hour barely had time to throw up a shielding dome-spell before the first creature detonated against it. The effort of so powerful a bulwark draining his vitality until one of the other magi in Lemon's retinue reimbursed his spent mana and added her own power to help him maintain the spell. Through the azure haze of his sheild, he could see that Captain Deep Trench and the heavy cavalry were also beset by the changeling biological artillery, the pale green explosions the indicator of the cause. "Praise the sun, and pass the mana potions," murmured Ebon as he reached into his robes for a faintly glowing blue vial. Darkest hourDarkest Hour Blam! Blam! Blam! Each explosion of organic combustion was like a nail driven through the soft meat of Ebon Hour's brain. The rolling beetle creatures detonated heavily against the magical dome that he had erected in haste. "Here sir, my last one," said another mage in the crimson and gold robe taking cover next to him, her outstretched hooves cradling a shimmering mana potion. "Bottoms up," Ebon replied before downing the alchemical cocktail. The soothing bittersweet potion was a salve for his mind and mana reserves. The magical backlash from powering the primary spell matrix of the semi-spherical barrier was taxing on Ebon's horn, it being distinctively unused to such stresses. 'S....semi-sphereical,' the realization dawning on Ebon in horror, he shouted for the other mage helping him maintain the barrier. " Lieutenant Bismuth!" Ebon was back on his hooves, careening over to the makeshift barricade where the other mage lay prone, taking opportunistic shots at the creatures with her horn when she could. Ebon's heart raced, it was only a matter of time before the changelings realized what Ebon had just put together. He skidded to a halt a few inches in front of her and Half shouted over the contiguous Blams! still echoing within the shield. "The Changlings, they could burrow from underneath us, bypass the shield!" Ebon proclaimed, gesturing a hoof first at the groups of drones flitting about at the edge of the village then at the ground underneath them. Bismuth's eyes widened as she comprehended what her captain was gesturing at her. "What do we do Sir?" she annunciated before slinging another manabolt through the magically porous membrane of the shield at a group of the beetle creatures. "We don't have the strength or magical reserves to reinforce the barrier to be totally encapsulating," Ebon paused, before continuing "We will just have to make a break for it." Ebon helped Bismuth to her hooves and together they started issuing orders for the remaining troops to form up into a spearhead formation. They were arrayed in a sharp concentration of force, Lemon Lynch forming the killing point of the spear, flanked by guardsponies who had abandoned their long spears in favor of shorter straightswords. The magi in the small group were gathered tight in the center of the wedge. "Ready!" Shouted Lemon and the wedge snapped to attention. "Set!" she followed and the soldiers bared their weapons with perfect discipline. Hesitating for a moment, she looked over her shoulder at her fellow captain, Ebon nodding back to her; she continued, "Charge!" The shield was dissipated a moment before the charge started. 'This' thought Lemon Lynch, 'this' was what she lived for.'They lanced through the closest of the beetles as the fury of the charge began. 'These degenerate insects had trapped them, cut them off from supplies, killed and inponinated their highest officers.' They maintained momentum, trampling the thin line of changelings that had been set up in crude imitation of an Equestrian calvalry square. 'The charge was her art perfected, her gift to this world, beneath her hooves, the cacophony of smashing battle all around her, she relished it.' "This is our chance," Ebon shouted over the din of combat, snapping her out of her battle trance. "When we reach the center of mass we must slay the Gland Dame, they will rout without the commanding center of their hive mind." Objective in mind, Lemon braced her self for the culmination of their desperate rush as she plowed head first into the largest group of changelings at the village's center. The impact of the wedge of ponies meeting the fortified collection of zebra thralls was great, great enough to penetrate beyond to where their changeling masters retaliated in tight organization to repel the equine aggressors. This soon devolved into many groups of individual battles as the shock of the initial charge wore off. Stalking through the melee for his prey, Ebon Hour spread out his magical senses in a wide net. "Where are you," he hissed under his breath, eyes closed as Lieutenant Bismuth and another mage watched over him, incinerating any stray changeling that came too close to their pocket of the fight. Ebon scanned for a few moments, straining to differentiate between drone and elevated changeling, but 'alas, this school of magic is not really my forte.' Ending the spell with a flourish of his horn, Ebon opened his eyes and took in the battlefield, it was...in short, chaos. Every battle has an ebb and flow, an immeasurable number of variables that expand and contract as tactics and individual skill weave together. Soon Ebon noticed a pattern. Near the back of the fighting, in a small half-moon formation lay an island of calm in the sea of roiling combat. A dozen drones buzzed in an interlocked wall around a lithe, leggy Zebra mare with strange wood armor. "There," Ebon whispered. Ebon pointed a gleaming hoof at the group guarding the queer Zebra, "There is our lynchpin, hiding in stripes." He drew Trotccam's razor before continuing, "Lieutenant," he said, "Prepare for teleportation, we are going to have a little chat with the Dame." Bismuth barely had time to respond before she heard a faint 'pop' and her world swirled away in a hazy kaleidoscope of colors and the ground under her hooves lurched away. Upon trans-locating, she found herself face to face with a set of particularly disconcerting visages. Several Changelings leered at her, their mouth's wide with too many teeth. Bismuth managed to steal a quick glance over at Captain Ebon Hour, staring down their presumed leader. "Salutations Commander," he gave a short, mocking bow before the leggy Zebra. The adjacent Changlings immediately raised serrated swords in a blatantly threatening manner. "I, Captain Ebon Hour, of the 1st Royal Mage Corp, do challenge you to single combat," he punctuated the challenge by drawing his sword and slamming it, point first into the ground. Bismuth had been expecting something similar to this, seeking out enemy champions and engaging in honor duels was commonplace in an around Equestria. Still, to actually see it though was quite energizing. The svelte Zebra shimmered briefly before her disguise dropped completely, revealing an insectiod apex predator out of a foal's nightmare, "I accept," it said, in a chittering voice.
The AmbushSomewhere near the Equestrian border The four figures stood in silence. Huddled around a circular stone dais, the only illumination coming from faintly flickering runes inscribed in a circular script on the table. Each figure wore plate armor, damaged in various ways from torn pauldrons to shredded knee joints. Defeat cloaked their shoulders, wrapped around them tighter than the oppressive darkness of the bunker itself, devoid of any natural illumination. “Four of us,” said one of the figures. “So four officers are left.” Another grunted, “There could still be more, not every squad has been accounted for yet." The first hissed in naked contempt, roughly grabbing her helmet with sweat stained hooves and dashing it across the table. “Have you been blind for the last thirteen hours? How many formations did we lose in that assault?” The third figure leaned forward on the stone dais, his golden armor reflecting the faint light in the room. “We can’t know for sure, not until the final reports come in.” “Blatant optimism” sneered the first, “My equerry was killed, I personally saw Charging Blade and Proud Standard ripped apart by the changeling artillery right before my eyes, who is left to compile those reports!” The fourth, silent until now, spoke up “We’ve all suffered pyhric losses today, as the remaining officers of this campaign we have to wring order from this chaos.” “What of Ebon Hour?” The second figure asked, "I last saw him with the thestral honor guard and the 5th locked in a melee with the left flank, I lost track of him before the next wave.” The fourth figure rolled her shoulders as if releasing the tension would alleviate her frustration, “He ordered his 1st company mages to hold their ground to buy time for stragglers to get behind our faltering lines.” “How very gallant, so he got himself killed and lost our only potent magic artillery company and Princess Luna’s elite bat pony honor guard detail in the process,” Replied the first. “At least we will no longer have to deal with the undue influence he garnered with the crown” the third joked. With a constrained groan the central dais fully activated with the rune network displaying a full three dimensional display of the battlefield above them. While the quartet studied the magical display a knock came from the reinforced steel door that served at the entrance for the command bunker. “Yes!” yelled the first as a tired looking Pegasus in scorched armor peeked through the door. “Sir, we have three more formations entering camp.” “Name them,” Replied the Second. “Their battle standards mark them as the 5th assault company, 8th infantry and……the 1st royal mage company.” The aperture of the command bunker swung fully open on its hinges as a newcomer entered. The unicorn in the doorway wore the golden armor of an officer in the Equestrian guard to match his four kindred, accompanied by a flowing red robe in the color of the royal mage corp. Part of his charcoal mane was seared off and two shallow cuts crisscrossed his exposed azure shoulder where several plates of armor were damaged and missing. He’d come alone, but he’d come armed, a curved blade of dark metal with a jeweled pommel rested across his back. “I hope you’ll forgive me for my tardiness, there was an ambush. You may have noticed it.” He walked up to the stone dais with the others. The fourth figure nodded,“It is good to see you Captain Ebon Hour." “I’m sure it is,” he remarked as he rolled his eyes before appraising the magical projection of the battlefield. “Our losses are on the wrong side of hilarious, but you know that well, Captain Silent Strike.” Said Pegasus rolled her eyes before starting on her summation, “We have pooled our remaining forces into 5 cohesive formations made of the surviving companies, giving us a decent mix of infantry and artillery.” “Our real loss has been accrued among our pegasi chariot cavalry, they have been decimated by the changling assault, with only a third in any condition for combat.” “They weren’t decimated,” Ebon Hour said, almost absentmindedly as he dropped his sword onto the table, ignoring the resonant clang of two conflicting magical fields. Silent strike glared at him, “I beg your pardon.” “Decimated means reduced by one tenth, it’s more like they were killed to one third.” The second figure grunted and pointed an accusing armored hoof in Ebon’s direction. “The point is we went into this battle blind and we barely have an army left.” “You know, this really won’t do at all, out of the entire command for this campaign you four are the ones I like the least,” Ebon quipped. “Please be serious,” sighed the fourth figure. Ebon Hour had a way of smiling, first it reached his eyes, sparkling in amusement, then tugging against the corners of his mouth like an unfamiliar reaction, not understood, and only preformed in simulacrum. “Captains Silent strike, Amber Bolt, Gale force and Lemon Lynch,” Ebon motioned with one hoof before continuing. “You will lead what remains of this army into another slaughter if you think we can regroup and muster another assault on the southern hive.” Captain Silent Strike raised her lip in an involuntary tick of disgust before replying “Our honor, our Princess demands that we avenge the slight payed to us by these degenerate insects today! This campaign will succeed or the southern hive will only reinforce Crysalis’s forces engaged in the east with the other divisions of our army.” “I won’t let you destroy our remaining forces to avenge imaginary slights on our imaginary honor,” Ebon Hour leveled, his words were calm but his gaze was intense and bore directly into Silent Strike. “Brothers, sisters, fellow Captains, let’s not let the heat of the moment overwhelm us,” Captain Lemon Lynch stated, “Captain Ebon Hour, I can see the logic of your stratagem, and Captain Silent Strike I fully understand the veracity of your need to resolve all our feelings of defeat,” Lemon Lench raised her front legs outward in a gesture of inclusion and fellowship, to which the assembled captains collectively raised an eyebrow. “Attempting another assault would be suicide for this Division and I won’t allow it,” Ebon confirmed. “Duty demands that we fight, are you craven unicorn?,” Silent snarled as she came around the table to plant a hoof in the center Ebon’s chest plate. “How would you stop us from staging another push?” “I’d kill you, of course. But let’s hope it dosen’t come to that. Emotions are running high and my sword is all the way over there.” Ebon gestured to where it lay on the table. Captain Amber bolt sighed. “If you are finished acting the fool, may we focus on the matter at hand?” “Focus on it all you like, I’m going to see my troops,” Ebon stated as he began to move towards the exit. “Your sword, Captain,” Captain Amber bolt motioned to it from the center of the room. “I will be back for it soon enough, enjoy your discussion Captains.” Ebon Hour walked from the chamber, his silhouette passing the hallway until it was out of sight. “I grow weary of him,” Silent strike breathed under her breath. “When we rebuild the command it would be best if he were…unable to join.” Captain Lemon Lynch’s ears folded to her head, “Just what are you saying….” Captain Gale force slammed his hooves down on the table as he spread his wings in defiance, “Why the spineless turn of phrase? I’ll kill him myself if it comes to it.” Lemon Lynch was shocked by her fellow Captain’s words, but her attention was soon locked on Ebon Hour’s sword, resting on the table. The blade was forged out of a solid metal, most likely black moonstone, with a wicked edge reminiscent of the curved swords used by the saddle Arabian magi. But what caught her attention was the bright jewel set in the pommel of the sword and the magical signature it carried. Having fought at Ebon Hour’s side many times she knew it’s purpose very well indeed. Ultimatly, after the various changeling infiltrations and the siege of Canterlot Captain Lemon Lynch trusted none of her fellow ponies implicitly, so when the pommel of that sword began to glow a dazzlingly bright blue and her teeth began to itch with the onset of displacing air pressure and the smell of ozone she was the only one of the four captains not surprised. She was also the only one galloping for the door. The assassins appeared in a storm of bright blue fire and magical mist. As the captains recoiled, raising futile hooves to ward off the blinding light, all three knew just what the thunder heralded. Silent strike and Amber bolt reached for their weapons, which was why they died. Gale force almost made it to his attacker, almost. Lemon Lynch never stopped running. The Thestral honor guard manifested across the chamber, wreathed in a dissipating shroud of powerful teleportation magic. The arcs of swirling spellfire around them slowly feed back into the pommel of Ebon Hour’s sword. They advanced as one in their massive suits of onxy armour, bat like wings flared as they kept their heavy crossbows raised. “ We have come for you,” Their leader growled in a deep ruinous voice. Captain Lemon Lynch heard her colleagues die, heard their cries echo across the short hallway, a bolt caught her shoulder guard, burying itself deep into the war plate but not piercing her hide. She skidded around the next bend in the underground command bunker, running for her life. Captain Lemon Lynch lay panting around the next corner, she looked up to see Captain Ebon Hour, leaning non-chalantly against the wall. “Hello Captain,” He said. She was rising when the squad of bat pony executioners rounded the bend and raised their crossbows. “Stand down,” Ebon said. “This one gets to live.” Lemon Lynch almost spat, “How generous of you.” Ebon Hour Chuckled before replying, “I thought so, too.” “Why did you kill them?” Lemon Lynch almost screamed at him, moving so she wasn’t facing the imposing bat ponies, “ What reason could you have for shedding pony blood! You traitor!” Ebon snorted then waved a hoof back towards the site of the massacre, “Don’t you think they were behaving a little oddly?” Lemon Lynch just glared in defiance. “Why don’t you go have a look,” He lit up his horn in a seemingly threatening manner, though his expression was utterly bored, “I insist.” As Lemon Lynch tiptoed around the corner, back into the war room she saw a more heinous site than she imagined the first time. Instead of the valorous bodies of her four fellow captains there lay the sickening corpses of four changelings, dressed in pilfered guard armor. “How……how did you know?” Lemon eeked out as she fell back on her haunches. “They mimicked our fellow captain’s mannerisms perfectly, they must have been watching us for some time.” Ebon Hour said as he began to trot out towards to the exit, the hulking thestrals following behind him. Lemon just stared back in confusion, “So how did you know!” she shouted after him. There was no reply, as she picked herself up and made her own way out of that charnel house she did not know what frightened her more, how easily the forces of the enemy had infiltrated the inner circle of her division…..or Captain Ebon Hour.
A Reforged BladeDay broke over the campsite, the tattered remnants of the once proud 2nd Division having been trickling in all throughout the long night. Slowly,but surely, several of those formations thought lost and those commanders thought damned arrives, reverent like, from the mists of the battlefield. ‘They say that cutting off the head of the snake is the best way to achieve victory,’ thought Ebon Hour as he perused the latest quartermaster’s report, the ink still fresh on its pages. ‘If that’s true then we had better become a hydra,’ he mused briefly from the seclusion of his personal tent. A loud clearing of a throat outside the entrance flap announced that he was not alone. It was of course far from practical, and a bit ridiculous, but in the absence of doors one had to make due. “Come in,” Ebon flatly stated as he rolled up the scroll in his magical grip and placed it into a crumpled pile in the corner with many others. A stern looking pegasus in the gilded armor of the guard emerged halfway through the tent’s aperture “The ponies you summoned have assembled in the command bunker”, the stallion said. “Thank you, Quick Fix,” Ebon replied to his equerry, “Remind me to have a chat with the quartermaster about the wonder of last century’s accounting breakthroughs, such as double entry.” Quick Fix smiled slightly before replying, “I’ll get right on that sir.” Ebon Hour got up from his weathered portable desk, “We all know that this southern theater of the war is a sideshow of a side show, but I swear to the solar crown this will be a successful sideshow.” Gathering his crimson and gold edged mage robe from the back of the chair he paused a moment to study his reflection in the small desk-side mirror. His charcoal mane was shaggy and unkempt, draping frenziedly over the sides of his horn, his eyes were then drawn to his cutie mark, his namesake, an antique clock, with both hands on the 3:00 am mark. “Captain? Is everything alright?” asked Quick Fix. “Yes,” Ebon replied in a monotone, eyes not leaving his cutie mark, a frown slowly creeping on his features. The gaze lasted an extra few seconds before the reverie was broken, Ebon slipping on his robe and trotting outside. The camp was quite a different site during the day, rows upon rows of white dots filled the horizon, contrasted against the rocky, barren, reddish hue of the terrain. The image struck Ebon hour as strikingly graveyard-esq, the metaphor unsettling as his rational mind knew that one third of those tents were empty. ............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... The map room of the command bunker had been cleaned since last night, though a few traces of changeling ichor gleamed bright and green streaks across parts of the floor and walls. I had asked Quick Fix to find and assemble the ponies mentioned on the list I had given him, those same ponies had now begun to trick in. First in was a tall unicorn, his crimson robes of the same order of magi, he and Ebon hour did not embrace gauntlets like others in the guard might, but instead regarded each other for a long moment. “Ebon,” the unicron nodded. “Bright Bulb,” Ebon Hour replied. “You look like you died on the battlefield and forgot to stop walking.” Bright Bulb jested before taking a seat. “So I hear, how is your squad holding up?” Ebon placed his hooves on the central dias and started up the runic projection of the surrounding territories. “Still a wreck, that stunt you pulled didn’t help either. We had almost stemmed the breach in our lines when you and your vanguard pulled back through the enemy envelopment and put everything back into dissaray.” “What can I say? Sometimes tactical cowardice is the best way to seem valiant.” Ebon ruffled about in his robe for a moment before bringing out a small glowing gemstone and plugging it into the side of the dais. The projection flickered for a moment then re-ignited with a different image. Bright Bulb frowned “I’m flattered to be here, but I’m curious, why choose me?” “Nepotism, Unicorn superiority preference, perhaps I just want to rebuild the command of this theater with ponies I actually like.” Ebon Hour replied before leaning back into his chair, steepling his hooves together. “Ebon, please. Be serious” “Because I trust you, and you’re an awful liar. The pacification of Munda-muka may have also factored into my decision.” Bright Bulb grinned gleefully,”The magi enjoyed that night, let me tell you”. Munda-Muka was a medium sized zebra settlement on the southern border, one of the many zebra factions settled in and around the south changeling hive. This particular tribe hazing been ensorceled by the changelings love magic and used as thralls fight the Equestrian forces when they passed through. Magi Bright Bulb and his company had taken the city without a single drop of blood spilled, though through means few of the campaign’s commanders were allowed to know. The entire affair was sworn into secrecy and none involved would comment on it. Ebon Hour knew what happened. He liked that story. Another pony came through the door as the pair of magi looked up from their seats. The lithe Pegasus Lemon Lynch, only other surviving member of the high command, trotted skeptically into another of the open seats at the table. “I confess that I have no idea why I am here,” she said. “I suspect that will be a recurring theme,” Ebon shrugged. “The others will be here soon, we have to plan the division’s future.” ............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... Sargent Deep Trench of the 12th infantry. He’d failed to distinguish himself as an line officer, soldier or rational actor in all his years of service to the crown, beyond the base level of honor inherent in two decades of solid service to the crown. And yet.....he had ordered his squad to stay and assist in Ebon Hour’s fighting retreat through the enemy lines, so the good Sargent apparently wasn't a thinker. Ebon Hour could live with that. Lieutenant Holly Springs of the 4th sky chariots, a striking white and blue pegasus mare. Her natural tones blended into the sky so well that Ebon often thought she had been magically enhanced in utero to preform just such a function. She had risen through the ranks at the point of a blade as often as she had by merit of deed. Not Ebon’s first choice, but they had history and debt were owed. Just thinking of them made his mane itch. Magi Bright Bulb and Captain Lemon Lynch were natural choices, or so natural as could seem under the current circumstances. With the introductions made and every pony settled Ebon Hour stood up and addressed the room. “You will help me lead this broken division. You are now each raised to the rank of captain in the royal guard. Any questions?” Ebon’s eyebrow shot up as he scanned for raised hooves. Several of the new captains exchanged glanced. Lemon Lynch shot up, “That’s your greeting? That’s how you tell us?” she scowled. “Yes.” Ebon didn’t blink. “Did you expect a speech?” “I don’t know what I expected.” She replied. “Then why do you sound disappointed?” Lemon Lynch sputtered, “I...” “Any real questions?” Ebon Hour sighted as he reclined back into his seat. “I have one.” Spoke up Deep Trench. “Why us?” “Because the rest of the command are dead.” Ebon said, idly miming a throat cutting gesture with his hoof. “Obiously,” Holly springs said, “And how exactly did they die?” “I killed them, or rather I asked the Lunar honor guard to kill them,” Ebon Hour leveled his gaze at her, “ The changelings killed them first, I disposed of the replacements.” “As ambiguous as he is making it sound, it’s true, the rest of the captains were replaced by changeling infiltrators,” Lemon Lynch offered. “Allright,” Deep Trench admitted, “What do we do now?” “Now,” Ebon pointed a hoof at a large X that market a space on the projected map between them,”We get to work.”
Et dolore magna gloriaThey had mustered in the small twilight hours of the afternoon. Several formations were clustered around a rock outcropping on the outskirts of the nearby settlement. It had been almost a half-day’s march from the campsite, but Captain Ebon Hour and Captain Deep Trench had finally arrived with their squads. Captain Holly Spring’s forward scouts had reported possible changeling activity in the area the day before; now, they knew the source. “Either we have the right place, or this is the cleanest Zebra village I have ever seen,” spoke Ebon Hour as he, Deep trench and their squads checked their weapons and wargear around the outcropping, a mile away from the village. The late hour threw sinister shadows across the landscape, mixing the violet hues of the coming night sky with the dull red of the broken earth. “Captain Springs’ report confirmed the presence of a sizable changeling presence, there is no doubt this village is compromised,” Trench continued, “The Equestrian accords state that we must assemble our forces within sight of the city’s border for a period of two hours while a formal missive of war is delivered.” Ebon Hour sighed, “That,” he pointed at the city “Is not a sovereign entity, not a nation state, it has no rights even if it was not being puppeted by the changelings.” He drew his saber, “Besides, I didn’t even get to use Trottccam’s razor in the last battle, something we will have to get nice and close for.” Deep Trench raised an eyebrow. “Trottccam’s razor?” “It’s what I call my sword,” Ebon Hour grinned widely, “Because it’s the simplest; most effective, solution to any problem”. The small force then assembled into fighting formation. Ebon wasn’t overly confident of their chances in a protracted assault, their division had been bled for months by the southern Hive’s hit and run tactics, cutting off the army’s supply lines from Equestria proper as well as any orders from Canterlot. The result had been to reorganize the surviving units into a leaner, but not necessarily meaner concentration of force. Currently, the force assembled before him consisted of three, five-pony infantry squads, armed with guard issue patrol spears and one, four-pony royal mage squad. It was much reduced from the sea of gold and red that shimmered in the Zebrican sun only a few months prior, but it would have to do. They advanced towards the town, the zebra sentries easily spotting them from afar. Before long a sizable force had mustered outside the main gate to the town, composed mainly of Zebra tribesmares and several Changelings flitting above on segmented wings and chittering words of command. The Equestrian forced halted 100 meters from the enemy, each side staring each other down. "Which one is the unit commander?" Captain Trench whispered into Ebon Hour's ear, "They all look similar to me, the changelings that is." "All those flying over head that we can see are just drones, the foot soldiers and infiltrators, the leader of the force will be a Gland-Dame, or for a larger force a Hive princess. Two different breeds, possessing larger brains and analytical ability for strategic thinking." Ebon drew Trotccam's razor in his magical grip and leveled it at the armored Zebra at the head of the force, "My bet is that she's hidden in amongst the zebra soldiers." "It will be difficult to disrupt their command structure then." said Deep Trench as he drew his own weapon, a embellished spear with two flowing writs of commendation trailing down the haft. Ebon Hour smirked at him, " An astute observation,it will be almost impossible given that they operate as a hive mind." "Indeed." "And they told me you weren't a thinker, tsk tsk." "Wha..." but Deep Trench was cut off as the Zebra army began to charge, still about 80 meters out, a furious frenzy glazed their eyes over. Most of them were wearing little to no armor, the changelings hanging back and firing globs of viscous green gloop that settled in large clumps where it hit. "Avoid getting hit by that, you'll get stuck and we'll lose unit cohesion," Ebon Hour charged up his horn, preparing a spell, "On my mark." The other magi fired up their horns in a likewise matter, the charging zebra 60 meters out now and closing. "Brace for charge!" ordered Deep Trench, his infantry squads advancing up to form squares and surround the two captains as the charging zebra column neared ever further. "Now!" Yelled Ebon Hour as he and the assembled four magi all unleashed bolts of shimmering violet fire from their horns, traveling in an arc and slamming into the enemy ranks. Several Zebra were disintegrated on contact, after the initial impact the spells splashed onto the surrounding soldiers, igniting striped coats and searing exposed flesh. " Veracity's Vibrant Volley." One of his favorite spells, Ebon Hour thought, he then scrutinized the enemy lines, they weren't breaking as he hoped. The Zebra continued on in their charge, clashing into the anti-calvary squares that Captain Trench had set up. Ebon had been hoping that the spell volley would demoralizes their troops enough that their charge would falter and perhaps damped their morale enough to follow up with a counter charge. The hold these changelings had on their love-thralls was truly despicable, to render a thinking, sapient being into little more than a marionette, dancing on strings of chemical affection. The superior numbers of the enemy came crashing down as tribesmare's met the spear wall with hoof and tooth. Several of the zebra were armed with bludgeons or their own crude spears, at a ration of almost ten to one the second wave pummeled the Equestrian forces. Royal mages were slinging fireballs and blasts of pure force between gaps and openings in the spear wall, so far a solid tactic, each rent in the mass of enemies followed up by a magical barrage. But it could not last, the first guardsman fell in a wild swing of hooves as a changling that had disguised itself as a particularly lean zebra uncloaked and sunk its long gleaming fangs into his exposed neck. "We can't sustain this!" Deep Trench shouted over the din of combat, "We will be overwhelmed in a matter of minutes, how long must we hold this position?" Ebon Hour brought Trotccom's razor up in a swift arc, rending a large gash in the side of a lunging zebra. "The anvil must hold until the hammer is ready." Forty meters out, on a hill to to the east overlooking the raging battle stood a soure yellow earth pony in carefully artificed heavy guard armor. Arrayed behind her were the remaining might of the 2nd division. She raised her gilded warhammer high over mane and shouted "The iron is hot, let the hammer strike!" as the righteous hoof of Celestia that was Captain Lemon Lynch leaped into a full gallop down the hill towards the battle, her forces hot on her hooves.
In this sign you will conquerThe square was about to break, the Equestrian forces were disciplined and well armored, but the sheer weight of numbers was grinding down heavily upon the defenders. Ebon Hour fired off a quick succession of weak shield spells to the guards in the spear-line in front of him, they would only hold for one blow or so but it was an advantage none the less. Golden plate met reinforced leather and wood in a cacophony of blows, Deep Trench was doing his fair share demolishing any zebra that broke through the line with his reinforced steel shoes. By any calculation the bulwark was about to crumble, like a crack in a dam widening inch by inch the flood of zebra was slowly pushing it's force through the weak parts in the formation, and then; the world lit on fire. A deluge of golden armored ponies crashed into the Zebra besiegers, in a spearhead formation that cleft the striped army into two bloody groups. A heavily armored earth pony led them, her golden armor ornamented with a flowing gold script that started at her hooves and curled upwards, resting at the crest of her helmet. "Nice work Captain," Ebon shouted as the charging force plowed past, "We were a hair's breath away from being killed to a mare but I'm glad you were able to make a flashy entrance." Lemon Lynch swung her warhammer around in a shimmering arc, the reactive fire gems mounted on either side of the head activating and reducing a lunging changling to ash. "Indeed, it seems your penchant to devise suicidal plans is underlined with a small degree of strategy." "I do what I can," he ducked under a charging changling and whirled Trottcam's razor upwards in an arc, slicing off one of the insect's segmented wings. With the arrival of the rest of the 2nd division troops and the devastating cavalry charge the zebra forces were routed, divulging into two uncoordinated groups. "I suppose we should capitalize on this momentum," remarked Ebon as he hurled a fireball at said one winged changling, immolating it with a heavy impact as the two masses collided. "I sincerely doubt it will be as cavalier as you jest but...," Lemon Lynch paused to smash her reinforced helmet into the side of a zebra warrior, following up the attack with a chitin shattering blow with her warhammer. Ebon raised an eyebrow, "Going to finish that thought?" "I believe it speaks for itself," the sour yellow mare smirked as she waved a hoof to draw the attention of the rest of her squad. She nodded as Deep Trench gave chase to the remains of the main zebra column and gave several staccato orders to her lieutenants. "Sol formation, spread out and purge any survivors," the Sol formation was one of the numerous combat strategies that Princess Luna had reintegrated into the Equestrian military since her return. The sergeant or magi stood at the center of the formation, the heart of the sun, then a first concentric ring of 6 soldiers armed with pikes surrounded them, the killing rays, next a second concentric ring of 10 soldiers armed with a mix of longswords and shields circled the first, the blazing corona. Ebon Hour had made sure the division was familiar with it before they re-engaged the enemy in any larger conflict, it was extremely useful for deterring stealth or flank attacks by the ever pernicious changelings. The two sol formations spun out into the village proper to catch any stragglers or infiltrators attempting to blend in with the remaining members of the tribe too young or old to fight. As he watched the heavy cavalry re-form and pursue the fleeing column after their charge, something struck him as odd. "Did this seem.....too easy?" Ebon queried to no pony in particular. "What?...What do you mean?" responded Lemon Lynch as she pulled off her helmet and shook her curled brown mane free. "I mean that it appears we just routed their garrison force with almost no effort, that doesn't strike you as odd?" Ebon replied before continuing, "Our division was almost annihilated by the Southern Hive's trickery back at the pillars of Dantium and now all of a sudden one clever envelopment has them broken and fleeing." As Lemon Lynch contemplated this a great rumbling overtook the valley, starting as a lazy shaking and growing with every second until it peaked in a cacophony of earthy plates groaning in agony. "What in the name of Celestia's teats is that??" she shouted over the din. "I imagine it's the aforementioned trickery," Ebon yelled, "Form up on me!" he shouted to the soldiers in the immediate vicinity that could hear him. As he frantically surveyed the state of the battlefield he noticed the only ponies not pursuing the routed Zebra forces or sweeping the distant village were his and Lemon's immediate command squads and a hoof full of others. "This is dire, we are spread too thin to repel another wave, but from where will they strike?" Lemon Lynch all but hissed. Her question was answered with thunderous certainty when the ground burst open in a legion of large holes, with bulbous grub-like creatures spilling out of them. They were each the size of a foal, with their translucent skin betraying the glowing sacs of volatile bile beneath. As soon as they emerged the repulsive creatures curled themselves into balls and streamed, as tightly coordinated lines, into the tentative position occupied by the Equestion forces. Ebon Hour barely had time to throw up a shielding dome-spell before the first creature detonated against it. The effort of so powerful a bulwark draining his vitality until one of the other magi in Lemon's retinue reimbursed his spent mana and added her own power to help him maintain the spell. Through the azure haze of his sheild, he could see that Captain Deep Trench and the heavy cavalry were also beset by the changeling biological artillery, the pale green explosions the indicator of the cause. "Praise the sun, and pass the mana potions," murmured Ebon as he reached into his robes for a faintly glowing blue vial.
Darkest hourDarkest Hour Blam! Blam! Blam! Each explosion of organic combustion was like a nail driven through the soft meat of Ebon Hour's brain. The rolling beetle creatures detonated heavily against the magical dome that he had erected in haste. "Here sir, my last one," said another mage in the crimson and gold robe taking cover next to him, her outstretched hooves cradling a shimmering mana potion. "Bottoms up," Ebon replied before downing the alchemical cocktail. The soothing bittersweet potion was a salve for his mind and mana reserves. The magical backlash from powering the primary spell matrix of the semi-spherical barrier was taxing on Ebon's horn, it being distinctively unused to such stresses. 'S....semi-sphereical,' the realization dawning on Ebon in horror, he shouted for the other mage helping him maintain the barrier. " Lieutenant Bismuth!" Ebon was back on his hooves, careening over to the makeshift barricade where the other mage lay prone, taking opportunistic shots at the creatures with her horn when she could. Ebon's heart raced, it was only a matter of time before the changelings realized what Ebon had just put together. He skidded to a halt a few inches in front of her and Half shouted over the contiguous Blams! still echoing within the shield. "The Changlings, they could burrow from underneath us, bypass the shield!" Ebon proclaimed, gesturing a hoof first at the groups of drones flitting about at the edge of the village then at the ground underneath them. Bismuth's eyes widened as she comprehended what her captain was gesturing at her. "What do we do Sir?" she annunciated before slinging another manabolt through the magically porous membrane of the shield at a group of the beetle creatures. "We don't have the strength or magical reserves to reinforce the barrier to be totally encapsulating," Ebon paused, before continuing "We will just have to make a break for it." Ebon helped Bismuth to her hooves and together they started issuing orders for the remaining troops to form up into a spearhead formation. They were arrayed in a sharp concentration of force, Lemon Lynch forming the killing point of the spear, flanked by guardsponies who had abandoned their long spears in favor of shorter straightswords. The magi in the small group were gathered tight in the center of the wedge. "Ready!" Shouted Lemon and the wedge snapped to attention. "Set!" she followed and the soldiers bared their weapons with perfect discipline. Hesitating for a moment, she looked over her shoulder at her fellow captain, Ebon nodding back to her; she continued, "Charge!" The shield was dissipated a moment before the charge started. 'This' thought Lemon Lynch, 'this' was what she lived for.'They lanced through the closest of the beetles as the fury of the charge began. 'These degenerate insects had trapped them, cut them off from supplies, killed and inponinated their highest officers.' They maintained momentum, trampling the thin line of changelings that had been set up in crude imitation of an Equestrian calvalry square. 'The charge was her art perfected, her gift to this world, beneath her hooves, the cacophony of smashing battle all around her, she relished it.' "This is our chance," Ebon shouted over the din of combat, snapping her out of her battle trance. "When we reach the center of mass we must slay the Gland Dame, they will rout without the commanding center of their hive mind." Objective in mind, Lemon braced her self for the culmination of their desperate rush as she plowed head first into the largest group of changelings at the village's center. The impact of the wedge of ponies meeting the fortified collection of zebra thralls was great, great enough to penetrate beyond to where their changeling masters retaliated in tight organization to repel the equine aggressors. This soon devolved into many groups of individual battles as the shock of the initial charge wore off. Stalking through the melee for his prey, Ebon Hour spread out his magical senses in a wide net. "Where are you," he hissed under his breath, eyes closed as Lieutenant Bismuth and another mage watched over him, incinerating any stray changeling that came too close to their pocket of the fight. Ebon scanned for a few moments, straining to differentiate between drone and elevated changeling, but 'alas, this school of magic is not really my forte.' Ending the spell with a flourish of his horn, Ebon opened his eyes and took in the battlefield, it was...in short, chaos. Every battle has an ebb and flow, an immeasurable number of variables that expand and contract as tactics and individual skill weave together. Soon Ebon noticed a pattern. Near the back of the fighting, in a small half-moon formation lay an island of calm in the sea of roiling combat. A dozen drones buzzed in an interlocked wall around a lithe, leggy Zebra mare with strange wood armor. "There," Ebon whispered. Ebon pointed a gleaming hoof at the group guarding the queer Zebra, "There is our lynchpin, hiding in stripes." He drew Trotccam's razor before continuing, "Lieutenant," he said, "Prepare for teleportation, we are going to have a little chat with the Dame." Bismuth barely had time to respond before she heard a faint 'pop' and her world swirled away in a hazy kaleidoscope of colors and the ground under her hooves lurched away. Upon trans-locating, she found herself face to face with a set of particularly disconcerting visages. Several Changelings leered at her, their mouth's wide with too many teeth. Bismuth managed to steal a quick glance over at Captain Ebon Hour, staring down their presumed leader. "Salutations Commander," he gave a short, mocking bow before the leggy Zebra. The adjacent Changlings immediately raised serrated swords in a blatantly threatening manner. "I, Captain Ebon Hour, of the 1st Royal Mage Corp, do challenge you to single combat," he punctuated the challenge by drawing his sword and slamming it, point first into the ground. Bismuth had been expecting something similar to this, seeking out enemy champions and engaging in honor duels was commonplace in an around Equestria. Still, to actually see it though was quite energizing. The svelte Zebra shimmered briefly before her disguise dropped completely, revealing an insectiod apex predator out of a foal's nightmare, "I accept," it said, in a chittering voice.
