Fallout Equestria: Dance with the Devil

by count of hollow shades

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Changelings, Bat Pony, Science Fiction, Fluttershy, Adventure, Griffons, Crossover, Sex, Daring Do
Length: 5051

Long ago the bombs rocked equestria, most died. most but not all. In vault 54 the historians and reenactors made a home for themselves trying to create an idealized version of the past. They all died but one, alden moonlight, the voice of history.

Long ago the bombs rocked equestria, most died. Most but not all. In vault 54 the historians and reenactors made a home for themselves trying to create an idealized version of the past. They all died but one, alden moonlight. A Thestral (bat pony) encased in a changeling cocoon for centuries. Now he must explore postwar Vanhoover to find meaning in his life and try to bring hope back to the wasteland. And perhaps he can finally find a marefriend.

Published 2017-06-18 03:30:11 UTC
Last updated 2017-07-19 23:46:45 UTC

Prologue

“On the backs of angels come the light of the world, a world reborn, kingdoms forged, tribes rise from ashes, and nations created in the wake of the day. The Day of Sunshine and Rainbows.” unknown ncr chronicler

Stable 54, vanhoover

Stable 54 was designed to test the old adage, it was better back then. Filled with historians, reenactors, and archaeologists. The overmare was instructed to indulge their eccentricities, the stable was equipped with all the period clothing, old fashioned furniture, and pointed blady bits they could ever hope for. Just one problem, the inhabitants, and the builders for that matter, didn’t know what “then” was “best”. Waistcoats next to togas, tricorns next to bowlers, it drove some of the purists absolutely crackers. Over time most got used to the anachronisms, and a new society was created from all the best parts of the ponies past. Chivalry and friendship, knighthood and equality before the law. It was hardly perfect, few things are, but it was relatively peaceful… until the changelings arrived after 5 years.

A bat stallion awakens in his cocoon, he has spent countless days in it. For the first week he screamed his rage and vengeance silently, plotting his escape and retribution. In the second week he started to count rivets in the walls, then the square feet in the room. After a month and there was nothing left to count, he looked every memory, every feeling, every sensation he ever had. That lasted him a few years. He then memorised all he had ever learned, growing his mind in ways he had never thought possible, that took a decade. He then fantasized about every single mare he had ever met or heard of, it took him a while to run out of ideas. He crafted stories in his head, surreal and fantastic, then his imagination dried up. He went insane, thrashing and writhing. He went sane, still and impassive. Then he returned to normal, and slept. In his 200th year of unceasing torment, he realised something. He really, REALLY!!! Needed to piss

On the outside of the room that make up the entire world of the slumbering pony, things change. Outside the stable thing change even more. Vanhoover was an isolated agrarian province, so the mega-spells really had no reason to land here outside one or two of the major cities, and even those didn’t really warrant a carpet bombing. Death came more slowly, the supplies of food, water, and all the other goods necessary for modern life dried up, the few resources that remained were fought over. Families, towns, gangs, and cults fighting to survive in a world that just does not have enough for them all. If that was not enough, the populace from the surrounding areas heard of an area untouched by the bombs. They flooded in, collapsing what little government still remained. Tribes, city (or more accurately town) states, raider gangs, and petty principalities sprouted up like like weeds in the spring day sun. a land in chaos.

A rumbling echoed through the his little room.

what… is happening. *clank, clop, clank, clop* hoof steps… someone is here!!! Rusty clicks and the swing of hinges get closer and closer. Who are they, oh i wish i could go and greet them! I have not heard hoofsteps in a long time. Here they come!

“boss , we found another one, get the spear!” raiders leave no survivors.

These ponies seem a bit scruffy, the armor they wear looks more like bits of kitchen wear and road signs haphazardly strapped onto their bodies. Nothing like the combat barding in my wardrobe, at the very least it looks like what it is supposed to be. That must be the boss walking in, after all he is the only one wearing a GUN! Is that suppose to be a spear, it is just a pool cue with a knife strapped to it! I have to get out of here, i am not going to die like this! Then came the thrust, and a scream.

Thestrals are a unique type of pony, scientists and magicians were unsure whether they were a completely separate subspecies of pony, or a breed of pegasi that adapted to live in caves. Either way they have abilities that no other ponies have, night vision from their cat eyes (which were studied by alchemists to create the drug also called cat-eyes), fangs capable of rending flesh, wings that can navigate the tight spaces of their cavern home, and the scream. The scream was first evolved to act in conjunction with their stellar hearing to help navigate in the dark, it then got stronger to act as a sonic defense mechanism. It then grew from a diversionary tactic to a natural weapon. A yell so loud that it could shatter glass, and for especially powerful thestals fracture bone. There is even a magic system that makes use of their unique voices. The only reason he had not used it until this point is that the sound had nowhere to go without killing him. That is no longer the case.

The viscous fluid that he cursed for preventing his limbs getting the speed to break the outer shell became his salvation, slowing the blade just enough to keep it away from his flesh. The thug tries to thrust again, but he didn’t get the chance. The outer shell cracked and broke, the fluid became a bubble that grew bigger and bigger until finally *POP*.

The raiders were mostly dead at this point, all but one, “who are you”

And came a voice, a voice rendered hoarse by a great scream, a voice from a throat that nearly forgot how to speak. “My...name...is… Sir Alden Moonlight”.

Fangs that can rend flesh, exposed throat. I will spare you the gory details, but let's just say it took awhile to clean the blood out of his mane and coat.

I am free. why was i forgotten here? where did the others go? Where did the changelings go? How LONG HAVE I BEEN HERE?

Changeling Collapse

So, I am free, first thing first. TO THE BATHROOM!!!

O... kay. Now that that is over, time to explore a little. There are bones everywhere, both the white skeletons of normal ponies, and the black carapaces of the changelings. "How did they all die?" there are two places that may have the answer, overmare yearling’s office and the infirmary. Maybe I can find a lightswitch too, this place is spooky. Wait... If everyone is dead, that means my parents are dead. Oh Luna, no. I wonder what bodies...no don't think about it. Don't think about it.

I managed to find the overmares terminal, she never gave up the password to the changelings. Let’s see I think it was "Ahuizotl", let’s see what is here...

the changeling attack, it came from nowhere. They must have been replacing my scouts for months. I do not believe that they will ever return the ponies they took, buck they probably aren't alive at this point. I will hold this stable, even if I must do it alone.

Last, I heard, Ms. Yearling died with 6 changelings dead around her and a bull whip in her teeth. Anyway, this terminal tells me nothing about why the ponies all died here. There is no bullets or blades near the bodies and no laser or plasma burns, why are they dead?

So on to the infirmary, the lights must be dying or something, this place is positively grim. I should find some new clothes, I always hated these stupid stable jumpsuits. The infirmary had the most bodies out of the rooms so far, let’s what the doctor’s notes say...

the disease seems to spread with the act of feeding and intercourse, symptoms: painful boils on genitals, and the rot of flesh. Subject zero: scarlet letter, type: earth pony, cutie mark: red letter A. Cure: unknown.

You must be kidding me; an entire hive was destroyed from contracting a STD!!!

What should I bring on my exploration of the world above, from the appearance of my *khm* visitors it is rough out there. I never like guns, energy or otherwise, I always preferred the elegance and skill of the blade, but it looks like that will not always cut in the world I am about to enter. I chose the mac 1 battle rifle. It is an 8 shot semiautomatic medium to short range weapon, it can take a bayonet but I couldn't find one in the armory. What else should I bring, a pistol I guess, didn't Mr. Fence have a revolver he liked to brag about. He was really into the frontier pony days, he said he had a Buffalo shaman bless his collection. I didn't have the heart to tell him that Buffalo do not preform blessings on firearms. There it is, the gun collection. The revolver had a longer barrel and a larger cylinder than most, must have modded it. Time to pack up my... Wait, is that... The brush gun that he referred to as his "medicine stick". The scope, lever, and stock still have that vaguely magical glow that it had when I first got into that accursed tube. I thought it was enchanted somehow when I was a foal, maybe it was. I am taking it. "Mr. Fence you do not mind me borrowing your rifle, do you? Really, take all that need. Gee thanks."

The ammunition for the guns was relatively easy to find, I managed to find a few hundred rounds for all of them. Time to pack my stuff. Ah, my own collection, swords, knifes, and axes of all descriptions. Unfortunately, I can't take them all, I took my favorite saber and hid the rest for if I come back. Now to put on my barding, the armor is reminiscent of the ceremonial garb that the lunar guard would wear in the days before the war. However, unlike the previous incarnations of the outfit, my barding is made of modern alloys and ballistic weave padding. I may love my collection, but this is my crowning jewel. it cost quite a pretty penny, it was more than worth it.

Well, if you told me before the war that I would be walking out of a bunker in to a post-doomsday waste. I would have laughed in your face, as it stands it is not so bad. plenty of food, water, and other things, enough for weeks. the radiation levels are not that bad, and I can always come back for whatever reason. well here goes. *click clack clank* and the door opens.

Caravan Calamity

"Hey boss, you were in there fo...who by Celestia's magnificently massive flank are you?"

So my guests had friends outside, in retrospect i should have thought of that. The crossbow that he was carrying went off. It hit my helmet, deflecting with a plink, i quickly drew my saber and ran him through. I didn't even think to draw my pistol. I doubt that the bolt would have kill me even, without the helm. The crossbow was a poorly maintained pre-war hunting model, and here is the hilarious part, the bolt was a soft tipped target blunt. I considered taking it, after all i don't really like guns and bolts can be really versatile. Thing is, it is falling apart. Not worth the weight. What is with these people and bottles caps? I found them on the others too.

The forest is much wilder than I remember, more trees and animal noises. The road is almost gone under grass, weeds, and leaves. How long how long was I under? This stuff does not grow overnight. Lets see, which way am i going. Do i go left of right.

In the dark forests of vanhoover there are many tribes, many nations, and many settlements. Trade flourishes as the once desperate troubles of the past fade away and wealth grow among the ponies. The New Canterlot Republic even setup an outpost at the eastern reaches of the old province. But things are not all roses and harmony, caravans disapper, settlements go dark, tribes disappear with no trace. Rumors abound of explanations. Of shadow kings and dark churches. So as alden travels he must watch and beware. For vanhoover's savage nature is not so easily tamed.

What is that noise, thank Luna for my ears. The hoof steps are muffled, careful, and slow. The steps of a hunter, i flew up into the canopy. It is amazing how so many ponies, no matter how seasoned they are, don't look up. The earth pony has strange marking on his muzzle, tribal tattoos perhaps.

"stealth step, stop being paranoid and get back here. The caravaneers are all dead but this bitch. Now let us have the fun we deserve."

fun? What does he mean? Ohhh, THEY ARE ALL DEAD. My vision turned red, well as long as i can see through the scope it is fine. The raiding party is fairly sizable, at least 30. So where is the filly? There she is, a castle tower with rose cutie mark with a red mane and yellow coat. I can see the torn clothes and the tears. Cries for help and mercy flood my ears, no, death is too good for these beasts. One was dressed in red and black sports gear and seem to be the leader. 8 shots in the medicine sticks, 8 more in the battle rifle, 6 shots in the pistol, and they will be on me like flies on carrion from the first blast. I would kill them all if they were a hundred and i had no weapons but my fangs. If i put the rapist in my sight, he dies first.

blood and brain splattered across the ancient pavement, in the confusion seven more shots rang out. Seven ponies fell to pain or darkness, an angel of death has come for them all. The few ponies that looked up soon saw a creature in the trees before they lost their lives. Now the monster, rifles empty, flew forward blasting away. Now that he was out of the darkness they saw that their enemy was mortal, not that that diminished their fear. All that it gave them was a target. No more bullets, 8 ponies left. Time for the demon to draw his blade.

bullets fly past my head, they don't matter. All that matters is the kill, the leader last. I will make him suffer. The first one foolishly try to play at my own game, swinging a fire ax at me. It is clumsy, no artistry or skill. The shaft is moldy and weak, it is child's play to cut his stomach open. The others are more cautious, that may buy them a few seconds. Guns make poor weapons this close, the next 4 are even easier than the ax moron. The last 3 are armed like their leader, sports gear badly painted black and red. They wield what looks like a sword that was crudely fashioned out of scrap iron. They are more skilled than their former comrades, they last at least 3 more seconds. Now for the... He is out of sword range, and is holding a double barreled sawed-off.

"Hmm, your a fine fighter. You would have made a fine gladiator, unfortunately you killed all my stallions. I'm afraid you have to die." *Bam*.

The gunshot hit his leg, the mare that was so abused got the last laugh. Shock set in, she retracted into a fetal position. She now wishes that she was anywhere else.

"Who are you little colt?" i am new to this waste land, i need to know who these ponies are.

"My liege will end you, he will rip out your intestines and feed them to you. No one stands against The King."

"That didn't answer my question" i could use a blade to cause more pain, but that would be pointless. I will just use the bullet wound.

The clearing that once rang with gunfire now fill with screams, and Alden's heart darkened with rage and blood thirst.

The captain sings like a bird. He is of the realm of Andalusia, he is a captain of the Andalusian legion. His ruler is The King, no name just The King. He conquered 48 tribes and 7 towns. He will enslave all you love, yada yada, meaningless threats. Yes, he knows the closest settlement is. No, he will not tell alden where it is. Oww, yes he will. No, these are not legionaries. They are conscripts from tribute tribes. No, we are alone out here.

*slash*

I will have to learn more about the political situation later, I have to get the girl to a doctor. She can't walk like this, let see, that cart would do nicely. it is hitched to some creature with 2 heads, what is it, a cow? this is a strange world i find my sekf in.

Author's Note

Andalusian is a spanish horse breed, i thought the name was cool for a kingdom

sorry it took so long to get this out, my computer broke and i had to get it fixed.

feel free to leave comments, i encourage you to leave any questions, and if you have any ideas i will consider them.

Surgery Sucks

Now where did that motherbucker say shireton is? The road splits in three directions, lets see... The cart starts to rock.

castle rose is a confused pony, all she can remember is when her father invited her on one of his caravan trips. Then she started to remember. The blood, the bodies. Her father, so strong that he seemed able to defeat death herself, cut down like a sapling to the chainsaw. Then... Then... The pain... Pain more intense than anything her has ever felt before. She knew that stallions were capable of such things, but deep in her heart and soul she did not believe it. She was defiled, soiled, raped. All she sees now is the shadow. It is not the quick deadly shadow that slew her attackers, but a slow blanketing darkness that warm her like a mothers embrace. So she slept for hours, then awoke in a cart pulled by the last thing she wanted to see. A stallion, she wanted to scream, to run, but the black took her to the realm of Luna, to dream.

i got it, it was the right. The road is marginally cleaner than the trails i have taken so far, the some cars are pushed away from the middle of the road. Some were even scrapped for useful mechanical components and metal. All signs of a marginally organized community. Now lets check our passenger shall we, she is a young thing, barely out of adolescence, quite pretty and muscled like most people who work their whole life. Reminds me of a filly from my childhood, the red haze returned to my vision, it makes me want to kick, bite, slash, and BUCKING KILL. Deep breaths alden, so that is shireton, it is smaller than even the smallest pre-war hamlet, 4 families at most. I hope they have a inn.

i wonder if this colt knows where an inn is, *Khm*i should get my pad out.

"What is it mister."

I can't talk yet, vocal cords still recovering. I write, " need to find an inn"

"Sorry, i can't read. But my grandpa can."

The his grandfather seem ancient, like he was carved out of an apple tree, his cutie mark is a scroll and quill.

"Sonny said you can't talk, why?"

My vocal cords are damaged

"It isn't permanent i hope."

This is not the first time, so do you have an inn here.

"What is an inn?"

A place to rent a bed to sleep in.

"Well... There is the mayor's place, however... Well... It is a brothel

*blush* if i could talk i would squeak "ohh"

my muzzle looks like a tomato, the mares here are really friendly. I was never very good with beautiful mares, i wouldn't be able talk to them even if my vocal cords were functional. Oh dear here comes one!

"Hello tall. Dark, and handsome. 1 hour of heaven for just 120 caps"

So that is what the caps are for, despite the roaring protest of my little brain, i do not have that kind of money to throw away, besides my sleeping charge takes priority. Now i need to find a polite way to turn her down without actually talking.

castle awakens in a room she didn't recognize, her torn clothes replaced with fresh ones. There is a moment where she thinks that her family is still alive, then reality sets in. Her dad, her older brother tower, Mrs. Laverne and Miss. Shirley, they are dead. And she was.., no, she can't think of that right now. The bed is comfortable enough, and the room, if a little rundown is clean. Nopony is around, she finds her luggage in a corner. So she starts looking for her caravan shotgun. From what little she remembers, she needs it.

the village had a doctor, more like a cunning pony really, as much folk magician as medical professional. However I really have little choice, i need my cords working now. The doctors name is doctor happy holiday, doc holiday to her friends.
The walls are covered in glyphs from at least 7 different magic systems, the air choking on incense, and the unicorn has dreadlocks for some strange reason.

"This may hurt a little, i ran out of stimpacks a week ago." she was wrong, it was excruciating.

That may have been terribly painful, but it worked. I paid my bill and returned to the "inn". The whores seemed more interested now that I can talk again, I don't get it what is so interesting about me. I never found myself very handsome, in some of my more vain days i would admit that i am very tall and am not that fat. But handsome, I just can't see it. I chose a room that was rather nondescript, some of them are just disturbing. My compatriot must have waken by now. Now to see how...

"Move and I will blow your head off."

Strong one, a little nap and she has the strength to point a gun at my head. Now what do I say to get her to put it down.

castle is getting tired of the feeling of confusion she has felt since the attack. When she initially saw his shadow, she thought it may have been tower in the doorway. Tall, strong, and quiet, even when she got a better look and saw it was not her earth pony brother and rather was a bat pony stranger, she saw things that reminded her of her fallen sibling. Similar eyes, gentle, caring, and kind. Not like the monsters that attacked her. Then she remembered the shadow. So, it was not just a dream, "i think we got off on the wrong hoof, my name is castle rose. You can call me cass."

we talked for a while, i told her that i am new to the area and saw what they were doing and killed the villainous scum in a fit of rage. Cass told me the reason she was in the story of why she was out there. her family were traders, her father finally relented to her requests to allow her to come on the trip with her older brother and the bramin. i asked if she had any family, she didn't. her mother died from an infection. what a world we have. so how do i go about fixing it.

Sword Sworn

Cass is doing well, all things considered. I wouldn't blame her for just blasting my brains across the room under the circumstances. We had decided to take her home, she needs to receive some closer, and i need to know more about the surface. Who is this coming, the pony is a chubby sort. He is wearing expensive clothes as the locals would consider it. They don't look good, status symbols rarely do. "This must be the honorable mayor. Owner of that...charming institution."

Cass was not amused "you mean cat house"

"I have never understood that idiom, what do cats have to do with bordellos? And be nice cass, we are guests here" I should take my own advice, I do not like how he looks at cass.

"Hello stranger, I am mayor martin, I hear that you refused my girls." well here we go.

"Sorry lord mayor, i have neither the money, means, or interest to take them up on their offer. I payed for my room and board, that should be enough" there that should satisfy the prick.

"Well sorrry my lord, you sure talk funny. Though i like what you called me 'lord mayor' ya. I should change my official title. You still insulted my girls, you have to pay. Maybe we can... Come to an agreement" the way he looked at Cass when he said that makes my skin crawl.

"How did I exactly insult them, mayor martin" if he could here the edge in my voice his ears would be bleeding. He seems oblivious.

"Well, from my own experience. If a stallion is still alive they are interested. As for the payment, how about a little time with your toy". Well I tried to be civil. Time to teach this cretin some manners.

"Lets see, no."

"Alden, was that entirely necessary?"

"Why do you care cass."

"I don't. It is just think the ruler, paint brush, and index cards were excessive. Not to mention what you shoved up his..."

"Change of subject please!" oh luna above don't mention the spatula and wicker basket.

"Well, what is your cutie mark. You are wearing armor over it." oh i forgot about that.

"My cutie mark is this, i do not understand what it means." and there plain as day is a crown, dagger, and a open tome.

Cass seemed confused, "how can you not know? Cutie marks are a reflection of who you."

"That is the problem, i do not know who i am. Ponies are to complex to sum up in a single image. I like to think that cutie marks are the cosmos attempt to give us a starting point in our journey. So what is place we are going to called again"

"The town is called Coalnant"

"Well, this is a nice place. It at looks like it got a new coat of paint in the last few decades " it really looks a lot better than shireton. It has a river connection, a cinderblock wall, and at least a few hundred homes.

Cass smiles with obvious pride, "thank you, it is one of the largest cities in vanhoover. The river gives us a open rout to several prewar cities, plenty of salvage. Come, lets get to the gate."

The gate is an impressive edifice, solid plates of iron, guardhouses, a draw bridge, everything that a defensive position needs. The guardponies leave much to be desired though, the armor and weapons lack any uniformity. Hunting rifles and shotguns next to baseball bats and other workponies tools. Cass seems to be recognized by whoever was in charge and we got in without much trouble.

cass needs distance, she will check her family offices and I hit the town. It is oddly comforting to see all this, see ponies coming together to build a new better world from the ash. There are brand new buildings, bustling commerce, and laughter in the streets. There are even newspapers. Hmmm so i have been in that accursed hole for over 200 hundred years. Well that explains the changes. It seemed longer.

"Hey fang-face," great, just what I needed, loud mouth idiots. "I am talking to you, bloodsucker" wait, what did he just call me? "You and your cult buddies have no place here."

"Hey pal, what in tartarus are you talking about?" good luna, let it not be what I think it is.

"You know what i mean, nightmare worshiper"

The banishment of luna was a testy subject among her children. The bat-ponies where luna's protectors. They idolized her, prayed to her, loved her as only they could. Their mythology revolved around her, their culture revolved around her beautiful moon. Then one day, she was gone. Her glorious orb marred by her visage. There was a period of confusion, then came the riots. cave systems across equestria devolved into civil war. As a species, they were broken. Factions within factions formed. One of which was the blood cults. They are monsters under the bed, practitioners of dark magic and rituals that turn your stomach. Official records state that they are filly tales. Stories to frighten foals into behaving. Unofficially, they caused countless deaths before they where driven underground. Decades of fighting and guarding. Then the mare of the moon returned leading to a rebirth, finally the light had returned to the caves. Then the war came, thousands of thestrals marched to war and death for her. Then the bombs dropped and their lady was gone again. cast adrift, and the buzzards circle.

"CASS. we need to talk." I have to do somthing. raiders, kings, and the nightmare church. I will eradicate them, but for that I need allies. This will take a lot of work, and thinking. First thing. I need a supply chain, and a place to stay. "hey cass, lets talk rent."

War... war never changes, that is something my father told me once. How did he die? Suppose that does not matter now. so now i go out into the wild places, to bring my law by the point of a spear. I swear by the blade on my hip that all the evil i see in the wastes shall die. A foolish quest, maybe, but it is my quest. my quest, of my own choice.