Fallout Equestria: Ghosts of Horsigan

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hooves we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

It was a sad poem carved into a boulder at the entrance to the old poppy fields and I spoke with a twinge of angst,

"So this is where it begins," I asked myself.

My name is Lullaby. I'm not a smart pony. That's what I believe. I don't believe in myself. The fact that I thought I would find the remnants of the old world and not have the same problem as with the Enclave was fucking hilarious, but here I was. I was about to enter Horsigan through New Pony because of a few rumors of a lost battalion over 200 years ago. I was still amazed at the beauty of the supprisingly clean poppies that glowed in the sunlight. I frowned as dark clouds started to move in at a staggering pace, so I continued to walk, gun at the ready, but I stopped as shadows surrounded me. They were furious, angry, scared, and all screaming at once as the wind howled and dragged me toward them. A shadow pony stepped fourth, dawning a tattered trench coat and riot helmet, and grabbed me.

"You are wrong," he said.

A chill filled me and I screamed as he seeped into me, turning my palamino fur to a galaxy grey. The pain began in my horn and became more intense until my brain couldn't take it and I stumbled over to the stone and slammed my head into it.

"Welcome to the eastern front...kid..."

Level: 10
S: 4
P: 7
E: 6
C: 4
I: 6
A: 7
L: 5

Barter: 35
Energy Weapons: 10
Explosives: 20
Guns: 50
Lockpick: 53
Medicine: 20
Melee Weapons: 44
Science: 42
Sneak: 30
Speech: 41
Survival: 43
Unarmed: 32