Fallout Equestria: Fresh Winds.

PROLOGUE : GALES FROM THE PAST

It was quiet in the town that sat near the Coltorado river. It was a small village and had no name. It was quite possible the one of the safest places to be in the wastes. It was easily defended from the cliffs it sat on and had no real reason to raid or attack other than the normal ones. But the real reason the town was so safe was one inhabitant. He was supposedly one of the best shots out there and was passing his skills to his son, Firestorm. That is until that day. FireStorm awoke covered in the blood of his dead mother. His fur matted with sweat as a man walked in the door. It was wearing a mask but the voice, the voice would haunt him. The pony no beast laid a broken revolver at his feet. “I’m sorry son. I’ve got to go.” and so he did. The town universally blamed his father for his actions as did Firestorm. Unfortunately for the settlement his disappearance and the death of many of their guards left the town open to attack. The fires were all consuming on that little village with no name. Firestorm evaded death by his namesake by pure luck. Luck that would not follow him throughout his travels.

He had set out to find a way to survive. With a broken revolver, a few caps, some food and his wits. He found himself at the Martingale Express as a courier. Not the most remarkable of ponies but he got the job done. They say he never stopped looking for his father for what reason no one can say. These days he was not Firestorm he was courier six. That was enough for now. To live. To survive. This is the tale of Firestorm, no courier six. How he finds out that while war never changes neither do heroes change.