Author's Note

Hello! This is my first big project I've had the inspiration to keep rolling with. As I said before, criticism is encouraged, and any grammatical errors could be pointed out. I proofread everything myself, cause I can't be bothered to have other people do it for me.
Thanks, and hope you enjoy!

~EliasWarship

Terms and Conditions

Hauptmann Hans Orwitz curled up in the small cot that had become his bed for the past three years. The cold air whistling through the cracks in the small field hut a fair distance behind the main trench made him shiver, despite his thick wool blanket. A bright moon cast many shadows across the crudely constructed walls of the hut, the clouds shifting and bending them into distorted figures. He turned over and sighed, looking up to the large orb in the sky. The war with the small, pastel-colored ponies was a long, brutal, and losing battle. It lasted only four years, and the enemy already surrounded the last tattered threads of humankind in France. A mixture of several different armies from several different countries had been gathered as a final stand against these seemingly harmless foes, to no apparent avail. True, they had held them off for the first year or so, but it seemed that they began to get their wits about them, for the last two had been a slow retreat to their doom.

His small division, the 31st Grenadiers, was no more than a company in numbers, being the most veteran division under German command. Its small size, sadly, was due to the fact that there just wasn't enough manpower to go around, leaving little for replacements. The only recruits available to him were under-trained, under-aged men straight from the barracks, only aging 17 and 18. They were young, but what Hans got was what he had, so there was no room for complaint. He still hated sending the youth to preform such a task. The 31st, though small, was part of the largest defense force in the Armée de l'humanité. He was surprised he was still in command of such a small group, or that it wasn't absorbed into a larger unit, like the neighboring 52nd. Command had assured that more individual command could lead to more maneuverability on the battlefield, due to more individuality and singularities in command. Hans wasn't sure to what extent that was true, but he was in no position to argue with High Command, even if it cost him his division. Or his life. Hans never had a good glimpse of what these ponies looked like, as he was always behind the trenches, but from what he had seen, and what he had heard from others, was that they were a species similar to that of the ancient legends of unicorns and pegasus. Though, unlike the story books read to children by their parents, these magical beings could wipe once was thought to be the most powerful and intellectual species in the universe off of the globe. It was quite strange, really. These small, adorable creatures of fairy tale, were out for blood.

He had been visiting family in Dresden on one of his rare leaves when the first invasions began. It was rather silly at first. For three years prior to that time many peace negotiations, and the subsequent secret alliances guaranteed for an up and coming threat, had come and gone, all unsuccessful. Not only were any sort of negotiations were unable to be discussed, but there were severe, and very obvious, language barriers in every culture. Spanish, French, German, English, Russian. All were attempted, none even came close to the strange tongue of the ponies. This was one of the running theories over why they had declared total domination. Some pomp-and-circumstance politician said something that sounded like something else and that had made them aggressive.

So when the pastel aliens armed only with Spartanist weapons and armor of spears and gladiators rushed the beaches of France and Spain, many were caught off guard. Many supposed the various coastal fortresses would stop them. Machine guns, large artillery, and the many weapons created by man were pushed aside like toys. Bullets of the largest caliber, including Browning's 12.7mm heavy machine guns, were impervious to the huge, multi-hued bubbles encasing the armies. The only artillery pieces seemingly capable of doing any sort of damage, even then was barely noticeable, were the British 16-inch naval guns. Only three instances of penetrating these bubbles had been reported,

A small creak interrupted his thoughts. He reached over, quickly grasped for his Luger, and ignited the oil lamp on the nightstand next to his bed. He looked to the door, the pistol soon followed, and the shock left him after only a second, replaced only by annoyance. In th now open door stood a tall, slender figure. Its coat was black as the sky outside, and its dark blue mane shimmered with the stars, flowing from its body like water. It adorned a suit of armor that looked to be made of some sort of refined, sparkling obsidian. Small crescent moons adorned the armor in several places. On top of its, her, head, was a horn about as long as a rifle bayonet, maybe longer. On her sides were two black, feathry wings, now somewhat flared in intimidation. This, Hans presumed was some sort of hybrid between the two enemy species. Whether that was an acceptable thing in their society was a mystery to him, but that was beside the point.

Besides her horn and wings, and any other detail than made her more otherworldly than she already was, were the glowing, deep-turquoise eyes that looked at Hans with some blank enigma he wasn't able make out. Her pupils were nothing but black slits, like a cat, or a snake.

"Hast thou accepted my offer, Sir Hans?" She asked, the very old dialect gave Hans pause as he deciphered her words.

"Shouldn't someone as, hmff, regal as you make yourself out to be have some sort of courtesy?" Hans replied bitterly, replacing his trousers with some difficulty under the sheets. "A knock would have been more than enough, I assure you." He got up, put on his boots, replaced his under-shirt, then his jacket, and finally, sat the round cap atop his head. He looked to the moon, the figure of the unicorn he had come to know over these past weeks (maybe months, who knew?) pulsating faintly on its surface. He then look back to the hybrid that called herself Nightmare Moon. 'What a strange name...' He thought briefly, before she asked him again.

"Hast thou considered my offer?" She asked again, annoyance clearly dripping from the question as her eyes narrowed.

"I have, Princess." She scowled at Hans' remark, but said nothing more. "But it is impossible to provide you with what you desire. A living human being as a vessel cannot be spared for the defense of humanity, furthermore-"

"Thou refuse to spare one of your warriors for other reasons I presume. Besides, even if thou were to spare even one of those... creatures," She waved a hoof in a manner replicating disgust. "It would never do. Your kind does not hold the magic that I seek. And I believe I have informed you of this on several recent occasions." She interrupted. She began to transition from her old dialect, turning into something Hans could understand a little better. Frustration bubbled up in his throat. He only barely contained it as he spoke.

"Do not refer to the brave men out there in such a way. You have no right, and have seen none of what they have." His face had turned red, and he was on the verge of shouting, but calmed himself, and straightened his jacket. "As I was saying, furthermore, I have yet to find a living example of your pony species for you to inhabit. They make it quite difficult, you know. Though I still don't see why you need a vessel, such like a demon. You have form, and you clearly have the ability to interact with your surroundings." Hans said.

"It is true," She said raising a hoof to her chest. "I have both form and figure, and can manipulate the world around me, but the power I promised you cannot be harnessed to its full extent, especially on this world, where there is, again, little to no magic to speak of. I am only but a mere shadow of what I could really be." She grit her teeth. "Again, I believe I have informed you of this already."

As she spoke, Hans secured his belt to his waist, and began fingering his pistol, looking at its gleaming polish. It had never been fired, and never had he intended to do so. To him, it was but a symbol of rank, nothing more than the badges and stars on his uniform. He looked back at the, comparatively, small mare standing next to his cot, and holstered the weapon.

Hans considered the deal he was striking with this creature, this devil, and thought of the great advantage it would bring to his army, and all it would take was one of the ponies to have such power. The strategist in his head began spewing the benefits of such an ally. An actual advantage over the magical beats beyond. They could finally compete, and maybe save themselves in the long run.

The voice was hushed quickly by the member of reason. What if she immediately turned her back? What if an army of shadow demons sprouted from the ground at their agreement? What if she was just a spy?

Another voice piped up. If she were a spy, she made quite the image for herself to be identified as. If the enemy was as powerful as it was, why hadn't she done away with him and his division yet?

Still not facing the Equine, he began his probe.

"If I am to strike such a powerful deal, how am I to know you are not with the enemy? You say you are a defector, but for what reasons and what gains? What made you leave your own species, and strike up with the weaker enemy?" He said, clasping his hands behind his back, holding his leather gloves while rocking back and forth on his feet.

He was met with silence for a time. For several minutes, the only sounds were distant explosions, crickets, and the whistling wind. Sounds he had grown accustomed to after these four years. The minutes began to drag on, leaving Hans somewhat nervous. For what reasons he knew not. He jumped a little bit as he noticed the mare's strained breathing, and a small plip of water hitting the floor. Upon turning around, he was met by a sight he never thought he would see.

Nightmare Moon, Rightful Ruler of Equestria of Nighttime Eternal, sat, slumped down on the floor. Her head hung low, and the mane that obscured her face had lost some of its fervency. Hans looked down at the small puddle on the floor, shimmering in both the lantern and moonlight. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, and every now and then a shudder would wrack her body.

Hans was shocked, to say the least. Much to her credit, Hans had been presented with the image of a benevolent war goddess. The armor, stern voice, stoic posture. The air around her seemed to radiate with the energy of a determined warrior. That veil had quickly been ripped away. The armor of her confidence shed. She was vulnerable, but she didn't seem to care in the slightest.

"A-are you alright? " Hans asked, kneeling down. He didn't have much else to say on the matter. What other human had dealt with a weeping alien from another world entirely?

"You want to know my true intentions. Why I fight the Royal Sisters. Why I despise them with every ounce of this pathetic body. So be it." Her voice was a low grumble as she lifted her head to look at Hans. Fear rushed through his veins as she stood her full height, and flared her large wings. The action took up the entirety of the small room, and quickly towered over Hans' kneeled form. Her eyes suddenly glowed a blinding white, and Hans shielded his eyes.

"W-what are you-" He didn't finish,as the blinding light soon enveloped him, followed by a crashing wave of darkness and sorrow.