Unshaken

by The 24th Pegasus

Rating: teen
Tags: Profanity, Violence, Dark, Death, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Adventure
Length: 245574

The age of gunslingers is coming to an end. As the law closes in on outlaws across the Equestrian southwest, Kestrel must find a way to help her wanted gang of misfits escape or die trying. [A CYOA Story]

It all used to be so simple: find a lead, survey the land, and grab a take to tide the Gang over for a few months. But the era of outlaws in the Equestrian Southwest is coming to an end, and it has no tolerance for ponies like Kestrel. Wanted by the law and stealing just to survive, Kestrel will have to take the fate of her band of outlaws into her own hooves and try to give them a good life... or die trying.

A comment-driven Choose Your Own Adventure story inspired by Red Dead Redemption 2. Key events in some chapters are in part influenced by dice rolls, which can be seen in my discord server. Be wary as the dice rolls may spoil current and past chapters.

As this story is different from traditional fare, there are a few caveats going in, inspired by another great CYOA story:

The chapters will be kept fairly short, ideally not longer than 1500 words per chapter, barring the choices and author's notes.

The vote will always have the last say, even if the choice they have chosen is suboptimal in terms of its effects in-world.

The story will end once the fate of the Gang is resolved, though it may end prematurely if Kestrel dies before this can happen.

You can see Kestrel's character sheet, along with important information about the Gang, here.

Special thanks to Ruirik for the cover art.

Published 2019-05-14 18:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2022-02-08 01:11:49 UTC

Chapter 2

We need more information: 62%

Gain progress toward the following Quirk: Cautious (1/4)

“You really think there’s any value in rushing it right now?” Kestrel scoffed and shook her head. “I ain’t gonna make no judgments ‘til I can see what we’re dealing with.”

Though Tumbleweed seemed surprised, he nevertheless smiled brightly at her. “I’m glad that after all these years, young Kessie has finally learned something about the follies of planning ahead.”

Kestrel spit to the side and reluctantly pushed herself off the wall. “Oh, can it. You’s hardly older than me, Boss. Five years ain’t mean much when we’re all grown up.”

Tumbleweed chuckled. “I will continue to exercise that right with which I have been granted as long as I can,” he said with a wink to Kestrel. “But you’re right—rushing headfirst into this ain’t gonna get us out in one piece at the end. Let’s go see what the others found, and plan our move then.”

Kestrel nodded, and soon the pair set off across Rock Ridge, moving toward the south. It was an eerie feeling for Kestrel to move through a town without having to watch her back, but it seemed Tumbleweed’s plan had worked; they were finally far enough into Equestria’s final frontier that they’d outrun their wanted posters. For how long, she really couldn’t say, but at least it offered them some breathing room while they tried to pull money together and get back on their hooves. But nopony tried to stop the two of them as they left the town behind, crossing scraggly badlands and gritty, sandy ground as they moved into the gentle desert that seemed to frame Rock Ridge from the south.

“You ever find anything while you were socializing in that tavern?” Tumbleweed asked her when it was just the two of them, separated from the rest of society by miles of empty sand.

Kestrel shook her head. “Nopony heard our names before down here. Even your name didn’t turn a head. We might have finally slipped the Law’s long reach for once.”

“It won’t last for long,” Tumbleweed cautioned her. “The Law is nothing if it ain’t persistent. Which is why we gotta focus on grabbing what we can and moving before they find us.”

Kestrel nodded once more; this was all familiar to her. She’d been running with Tumbleweed for years, and if there was anypony who understood how the Law worked as much as he did, it was her.

Soon, they arrived at what Kestrel could only assume was the crossroads Tumbleweed had mentioned. A unicorn and an earth pony had taken shelter behind a large pile of rocks alongside the dusty roads, and Tumblweed immediately diverted course towards them. Kestrel recognized the faces of the two stallions quickly enough; Snapshot was impossible to miss because of his twitchiness, and Kestrel knew it wasn’t all that difficult to get the wild unicorn to draw and start shooting. To his left, a burly earth pony sat polishing a shotgun, and a disgusted frown swiftly settled on Kestrel’s muzzle. She and Roughshod butted heads more often than she cared to admit, and much more often than what Tumbleweed would have deemed acceptable, but there was just something about the earth pony that rubbed her feathers the wrong way. Whatever Roughshod was, he seemed… slimy, greasy, no better than a rat or a snake to her. She didn’t see what Tumbleweed saw in him, but if the boss thought he was fit to run with the gang, then she wasn’t going to question it.

Roughshod looked up from his weapons as the two ponies approached, and managed to rock himself up to his hooves. “There you are, finally,” he growled, his eyes quickly finding Kestrel’s face. “You not too drunk, cowfilly? I know you been doing nothin’ but drinkin’ at that damn saloon for the past few hours.”

Kestrel bristled at the accusation. “Even drunk, I’m a better shot than you and half again.”

“Do we have to do this now?” Snapshot suddenly interjected, his head snapping in their direction. “We’ve got a haul coming. Good money. Good good good. We need money after all this. After the hotel… the hotel…”

“We will make off just fine,” Tumbleweed insisted, stepping into the midst of the three ponies and quickly dissolving any lingering bickering. His iron gaze shut down the wild sides of his gang one by one, and even Kestrel found herself glancing down at her hooves. After a moment, he relaxed, and the intimidating spell seemed to be lifted. “Roughshod, you find anything out yet?” he asked the earth pony, eyes narrowing on his iron gray body.

Roughshod shrugged. “I sent Silvie ahead to go take a look, count guards. But we got plenty of cover here; there’s these boulders and an abandoned wagon a bit up the road. Perfect place to set an ambush.”

Snapshot’s ears perked up. “Silver coming back,” he said, craning his neck to the west. “She’ll know better.”

Sure enough, within a minute or two, a silvery pegasus alighted down by the rock. Dust and sand stuck to her gleaming coat, but the young mare practically beamed with accomplishment. Kestrel found she couldn’t hold her smile back for long; the youngest and newest recruit into the gang was practically the sister she never had, and anytime Silvie was happy, Kestrel felt happy alongside her.

“Silvie!” Tumbleweed exclaimed, refocusing all of his attention and wit onto the new arrival. “Glad to see you’re back! You take a look at the wagon?"

Silvie nodded her head. “Yup,” she said, voice chipper as ever. “Got a good look at their numbers. They didn’t see me; dumb fools ain’t paid enough to look up.”

“How many we talkin’ about?” Kestrel asked her. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too many; the more ponies involved in a robbery, the more complicated things could get.

How many ponies are accompanying the wagon?: 6

“Six of ‘em,” Silver Wings said. “Tight formation. Guess Miss Belle buys 'em in bulk.”

Tumbleweed nodded and thought for a moment. “How far away are they?”

Silvie shrugged. “Less than an hour. Thirty minutes at most. They’ll be here before we know it. They probably want to get to Rock Ridge as fast as possible and unwind at a brothel.”

“Do you know how well armed they is?” Roughshod asked.

Again, Silvie could only shake her head. “I didn’t risk getting close enough to see. But there’s only six of them; four of them are guarding the wagon, and another two are pulling. So… we have the advantage?”

Tumbleweed nodded slowly, and then he turned to Kestrel. “So we outnumber them if we get the drop on ‘em—those two pulling the wagon ain’t gonna respond all that fast. We have a chance to drop ‘em all in one go. What do you think?”

Hit them hard. Now that Silvie’s scouted ahead for us, we know it won’t be that much of a fight if we hit ‘em as hard as we can, as fast as we can.

Act out the distraction. We still might be able to avoid spillin’ blood if we distract ‘em. Sure, it might be dangerous to the pony who has to stand out in the road and stop the wagon, but we can all walk away from this with clean hooves.

Hold them up. We don't need to shoot if we get 'em to surrender. If they see they're surrounded and staring down outlaw steel, they'll give us what we want without a fight.

Let the wagon pass. We need the money, but this is too risky. Surely there’s another, easier haul somewhere we could hit? [GANG MORALE -1]

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/17995901

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 3

Use a distraction: 47%

“What I’s thinkin’ is we shouldn’t go pissin’ off the Law this quick,” Kestrel said, ruffling her feathers.

Roughshod spat at the ground and raised an eyebrow. “What’s a matter, Kessie? Lost your nerve? Gone soft on us?”

Kestrel bristled and whipped her head in his direction. “I ain’t fixin’ to get us wanted again so quick-like after we shook the Law!” she growled. “We start shootin’ and somepony gets away to tell the Law, we’s back to havin’ bounties on our heads here in no time!”

“So what’s your brilliant plan, then?”

Kestrel let her eyes wander over the rest of the Gang. “We get somepony out into the road, get ‘em to stop. Get their attention away from the back of the wagon. I’ll sneak up there and break open the trunk, see what I can pull out.”

“Most of the money’s gonna be in the armored cabin,” Silver Wings observed. “How are we gonna get to that?”

“I’ll… think of somethin’,” Kestrel said, waving her wing. She glanced to her left, where a cloud of dust thrown up by hooves and wagon wheels was slowly approaching, and turned to Tumbleweed. “Well, boss? What do you think?”

Tumbleweed frowned as he thought it over. “It’s risky… but I always loved me some show biz.” His expression brightened, and he tugged on Silver’s bandolier. “Come on, my fairest wife, shed those guns and stand by your husband’s side.”

Silver blinked in surprise, even as Tumbleweed began to move toward the road. “I… what?”

“We’re gonna have ourselves a little marital spat,” Tumbleweed said with a wink. “I’ll be the tough husband who doesn’t want to ask for directions, you be the worried wife who got us lost looking for our runaway little girl. If these guards got any heart, we’ll keep ‘em occupied long enough for Kestrel to do her thing.”

“And what are we supposed to do?” Roughshod asked. “Just stand back and let the sun burn us alive?”

Tumbleweed rolled his eyes. “You and Snapshot will take cover and keep an eye on us, discreetly. If it looks like this whole thing’s goin’ south, I’ll start shootin’ and I’m countin’ on you two to cover me and Silvie here. But don’t show yourselves ‘til then, got it?”

Roughshod sighed and checked his shotgun. “Try to stop ‘em close to the wrecked wagon, then. You don’t want me tryin’ to shoot from far away with this thing.” He turned to Snapshot and gestured in that direction. “Right, let’s go. Good luck, you dramatic idiots.”

Snapshot hopped to his hooves, his magic fidgeting with his six-shooters, and the two ponies took position by the wagon and out of sight. Silver Wings finished shedding her weapons and bandoliers of bullets, then pulled a comb out of her attire and tried to clean up her mane a bit as she joined Tumbleweed in the road. She shot Kestrel an awkward smile, then fluffed out her wings in mock indignation and took an argumentative stance with her ‘husband’ as the wagon drew nearer.

Kestrel, meanwhile, placed herself behind the rock and checked over her gear, shedding anything likely to make a sound while sneaking behind the wagon. Leaving her canteen, satchel, and bandolier of spare ammunition in the dust, she checked her revolver just in case and kept her knife close to her reach. Then, all she had to do was wait.

Soon, the wagon grew close enough for her to make out the creaking of its wheels and the plodding of the guards’ hooves across the dirt road. At the same moment, Tumbleweed and Silver began their bickering, and Kestrel watched as the young mare moved her wings in exaggerated movements and let her voice rise. What exactly they were screaming at each other, Kestrel didn’t pay much attention to; her focus was solely on the wagon as it rolled to a stop nearby.

“What the Tartarus is going on out here?” one of the guards shouted; Kestrel couldn’t see where he was from behind the rock, only watch the shadows of the guards at the rear of the carriage, waiting for them to move forward.

The screaming stopped, and she heard Tumbleweed’s voice rise to address the guards. “Oh, gentlestallions, pardon me, pardon me. It’s nothin’ that needs concern you. My wife is rippin’ me to shreds about a familial matter here that is very much her own fault.”

Is Tumbleweed’s distraction convincing? No

“Your wife?” the guard captain asked, and Kestrel chewed on her lip as she saw the shadow of the rear guard reach for their holstered weapon. “Is that so? Not sure what a husband and wife are doing out by the crossroads so far from town. Where’s your wagon?”

Is Silver Wings able to improvise? Yes

“We had it robbed from us by some no-good devils!” Silver screeched in exasperation, and Kestrel heard the crack of hoof on bone, followed by a startled grunt from Tumbleweed. “And my no good, lousy husband weren’t smart enough to figure out which end of the gun to point at the bad ponies! We’re lost and I’m about to tan his hide!”

“Honey, don’t—!”

Hooves scuffed across the hard ground, and the guards at the back of the wagon trotted forward as Silver launched herself at Tumbleweed. Kestrel had to suppress a chuckle; so much for the Boss’ plan for a familial dispute. With the coast finally clear, Kestrel slipped out from behind the rocks, giving only a quick glance at the scene in front of the wagon as the guards tried to separate Tumbleweed and Silvie.

The wagon was armored all around, seemingly pristine, but upon closer inspection, Kestrel noted that the latch on the back doors was rusted beneath the white paint. Drawing her knife, she wedged it in the seam between the doors and started to force it open.

Can Kestrel force the latch? Yes

Gain the following skill: Lock Breaker

Kestrel grunted as she pulled the knife back and forth, and when that didn’t work, she jammed it into the gap as far as she could and turned around. As soon as Silvie started streaming again, she bucked the protruding handle hard and was rewarded with the cracking of rusted iron. The knife clattered to the ground, and Kestrel carefully opened the doors after checking once again that the guards weren’t looking her way.

How many bags are in the wagon? 2

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting—this was just a little coach stopping at all the small towns across San Palomino before dumping the collective haul on a train for Manehattan, after all. But only two bags of bits? Either this wagon was early on its route, or Miss Belle’s fashion empire hadn’t caught on quite as quickly as she’d hoped here in the Southwest.

But that wasn’t all. As Kestrel hopped into the back of the wagon, her eyes settled on a safe built into the front. Her mind wondered at what could possibly be locked up tight inside a locked, armored wagon. Bonds? Gold bars? Deeds? Whatever it was, it might be worth a lot more than just two bags of bits.

Is the distraction still working? No

Her ears twitched, and that was when she realized she couldn’t hear Silvie screaming in rage anymore. All of that was replaced by the muffled voice of one of the guards giving the couple a warning and a stern talking to. Worse still, she could hear the crunching of hooves on dirt and grit as the guards walked back to their positions at the back of the wagon.

She only had a few seconds.

Grab a bag and run. I can probably get one bag outta here and fly into the sky before the guards can get their weapons ready. Not sure what’ll happen to Tumbleweed and Silvie on the ground, but they got Rough and Snapshot lookin’ out for ‘em.

Try to grab both bags. It’ll be a little harder to get goin’ with all that weight, but I might be able to manage it still.

Close the doors and wait for an opportunity to escape. I can get them doors closed tight and nopony will be the wiser, but I’ll be on my own for the getaway. Might get a chance to crack open that safe while I’m at it.

Jump the guards and start shooting. They ain’t gonna expect some bandit to hop outta their wagon and start shootin’, that’s for damn sure. We clean ‘em up and we can take our time with everything inside, including that safe.

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18001671

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 4

Wait it out: 52%

Gain progress toward the following Quirk: Cautious (2/4)

Patience, Kestrel cautioned herself. There wasn’t a need to do anything rash yet. It was better to wait and see before something started flying, whether that be lead or herself. But she wasted no time darting forward and pulling the doors shut with her wings, getting them securely closed moments before the guard walked to the back of the carriage.

Her heart beat in her throat, and Kestrel swallowed hard. Even though she didn’t want to start a surprise shootout, she fidgeted with the revolvers by her side, her wingtips dancing over the smooth wooden grips. If that door opened, she would have no choice.

Does the guard notice anything wrong behind the carriage? No

All was quiet for an eternity—or at least, that was what it seemed like to Kestrel. But soon enough, she heard a chorus of ‘all clears’ from the guards around the wagon, and it started moving again. Kestrel still didn’t dare move for a few minutes, in case her shifting weight might give something away to the two ponies pulling it. But once it calmly rolled down the road without any conversation from the security detail, Kestrel finally let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and turned away from the doors.

Again, her eyes fell over the two bags of bits and the safe at the front of the wagon. There had to be something good in it, right? The two bags of bits were probably little more than two hundred bits put together, so if there was going to be anything good in this haul, it’d be behind that metal door.

Might as well take a look now. Ain’t goin’ nowhere for a while.

Can Kestrel listen to the locks and crack the safe's code? Yes

She crossed the rolling floor of the wagon on the softest of hooves, careful not to shake it too much from one side to the other, and put her ear against the metal door of the safe. As luck would have it, when she began to turn the dial, the mechanisms loudly clacked and clattered on the other side of the heavy iron. It seemed like the safe needed maintenance as desperately as the latch she’d busted to get inside in the first place. She guessed Miss Belle spent as much money on her security than she did on her hired guns, and that wasn’t saying much.

Three clicks later, Kestrel spun the latch on the safe and pulled it open with her teeth. She hesitated before peering inside, almost as if she was worried that the contents would be as disappointing as the rest of the wagon’s haul so far. But she did it anyway, realizing that the longer she dilly-dallied inside the wagon, the greater the danger she’d be in.

How valuable are the safe’s contents? Not Very

She almost wished she hadn’t looked. Like the rest of the wagon, the safe’s contents were paltry, amounting to little more than two bill folds. She slid them out with her wing and fanned through the silvery papers, counting out only a hundred bits’ worth of cash. Grumbling, she stuffed the papers inside her duster for safekeeping. Might as well leave here with something.

Does Kestrel find something of Miss Belle’s that may be valuable besides money? No

She checked the safe again just to see if there was anything she missed, anything at all, but the empty box only left her disheartened and annoyed. All this mayhem for a few hundred bits? At least it was better than nothing, which is what the Gang had after their flight from Appleloosa. They had to start over again, and that meant starting with something. The money they got from the wagon may not have been the haul they’d been hoping for, but it would allow them to buy food, medicine, ammunition, and spare parts for their wagons. But they couldn’t get away from the Law for good with a few hundred bits to their names.

Does Tumbleweed trust that Kestrel knows what she's doing and not intervene? Yes

With the safe raided and two bags under her control, Kestrel sat down against the wall of the wagon and chewed on her lip. There was no sign of Tumbleweed and the gang—if there was, she would have heard the gunshots by now. Either Tumbleweed believed in her enough to get out of that wagon in one piece, or… well, she knew Tumbleweed better than that. He wouldn’t leave a pony behind if he was worried about their safety. So she at least had the Boss’ vote of confidence.

Is Kestrel able to find an opportune moment to bail from the wagon undetected? Yes

Another twenty minutes rolled by, twenty minutes of sitting quietly in a hot, stuffy wagon. Sweat was pouring down her face and gluing her mane to her neck, and the heat frayed her feathers. Several times she thought about just snatching both bags and dashing off into the desert, but she cautioned herself over and over to just wait. There would come an opportunity. All she had to do was be patient.

And as luck would have it, it finally came. Just as she was starting to get restless, she heard voices shout out, and the wagon came to a stop. Hooves thundered on the dry ground, and moments later she heard a gunshot. She flinched, ears sticking straight up and wings already partially extended in a pegasus fight-or-flight reflex. The shouting outside redoubled, and a cacophony of gunfire began to boom around the front of the wagon. A bullet slammed into the armored cabin, denting the wall and sending Kestrel jumping to her hooves.

If there was ever a time to flee, it was now.

With the bill folds held tightly in her duster, Kestrel flipped first one bag of bits over her shoulder, and then the other. She drew one of her revolvers and chomped down on the bit handle, leaving her wings free for a flight, and kicked open the doors. A smattering of bullets bit into the dusty ground in front of her, but there were no guards in sight. They were all at the front of the wagon, fending off an attack.

That worked for her.

Can Kestrel carry both bags without difficulty? Yes

She jumped out of the wagon and took a galloping start across the road, building up speed before opening her wings and leaping into the sky. Gray feathers dappled with black spots extended to their full glory, catching the wind and propelling her into the skies. Though the two bags of bits weighed heavily on her, trying to drag her back down to the earth, she fought through it and climbed higher and higher. The farther away from the gunfire she got, the better, and only when she felt she was a safe distance away did she look back over her shoulder.

It looked like the Gang had chosen the perfect time to stage their own robbery, because a swarm of hooded ponies pressed on the wagon from the front. Their overwhelming firepower quickly cut down the hired guards, spraying their blood across the desert sands. Some other gang had the same idea Tumbleweed had, only they’d opted to solve the matter more directly than Kestrel’s roundabout plan. She’d have to talk to Tumbleweed about this; if there were other gangs around Rock Ridge, then they’d have to be careful where they tread.

Do any of the assailants notice Kestrel’s flight? Yes

How many? 4

A bullet whizzed past her ear, and she momentarily faltered in flight. She turned around and let her brow fall in concern as she saw four hooded pegasi taking off after her, their muzzles poking through cutouts in their masks and clutching revolvers between their teeth. They fired at her repeatedly as she tried to get away, and though she had enough distance to make a hit little more than an (un)lucky shot, they were closing fast, weighed down as she was. Soon they’d be upon her, and she needed to come up with a plan.

Outfly them. Even weighed down, my wings are more than a match for these hooded hooligans.

Drop the bags and outfly them. I’ll lose most of the take, but I’ll fly better and faster, and the dropped money might throw them offa my tail.

Stand and fight. They gotta fly to me, and shootin’ on the move ain’t easy. But hoverin’ and shootin’, I can do that no sweat. I’ll swat ‘em all outta the sky.

Surrender. All I'm gonna accomplish is gettin' myself killed tryna fly or fight. It ain't much to hope for, but maybe they'll be merciful if I stand down.

(Certainty Required: 25 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18013162

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 5

Keep the Bags and Fly: 56%

There was nothing Kestrel could do but keep flying. If she stopped to fight, more ponies from the other gang might notice the shootout and add their guns to the mix. But she’d be damned if she dropped the haul she’d stolen from that wagon after all the hoops she’d hopped through for it. A hundred bits in bills was paltry, especially when she had two or three times that amount currently on her back.

She’d gotten some altitude in her flight away from the wagon, but she quickly realized she was going to have to burn it to get the speed to keep those other ponies at a distance. Tilting her wings down, Kestrel flapped as hard as she can and worked together with gravity to dive out of the sky. She flared her feathers and pulled out of it before she slammed into the ground, and soon she was racing across the road, the tips of her wings barely brushing the dusty road with each stroke.

Kestrel attempts to fly away at a penalty due to being encumbered: 6 vs 13

The pursuers rapidly close on Kestrel

Try as she might, however, she could hear the gunfire growing louder, and the bullets grew closer. She hazarded a glance back over her shoulder and chomped down on her lower lip when she saw that the hooded pegasi had greatly closed the distance on her. Now they were close enough for her to see their glistening eyes set in the holes in their hoods, and their individual teeth between bared lips as they gripped their worn revolvers.

The lead pursuer attempts to shoot Kestrel: Success

Is the wound just a scratch? Yes

One of those revolvers barked and spat fire, and a sharp pain lanced across Kestrel’s left shoulder. Blood began to dribble down from the flesh wound, quickly streaking her coat red and binding the sand and dust to her clothes. Though it hurt, Kestrel didn’t let the wound slow her down. She’d been shot many times before, and she’d be shot at many times again. She just had to survive the next several minutes, no matter what it took.

Kestrel attempts to fly away at a penalty due to being encumbered: 7 vs 15

The pursuers rapidly close on Kestrel

Kestrel scanned the desert for any geography she could use to try to shake her pursuers, but there was little out here apart from shallow, bone-dry inclines and several cacti and shrubs. Her wings were burning as she tried to haul the heavy bags of bits with her, and now she could practically hear the panting of the other pegasi behind her. She wasn’t pulling away, and she had no more altitude to burn for speed. It seemed more and more likely that she’d have to fight, because she simply wasn’t fast enough to outfly her pursuers.

One of the pursuers attempts to tackle Kestrel: Fail

She felt the downdraft of air moments before a shouting pegasus tried to leap on her from behind, giving her just enough time to twist her body around. Feathers met feathers as their wings collided, and only a few quick adjustments of her own kept Kestrel from plowing into the ground. She managed to slip free and delivered a quick kick to the assailant’s jaw, sending him tumbling back. In the same motion, she turned her revolver toward him and fired, all without missing a beat of her wings.

Kestrel attempts to shoot the pursuer as she shakes him off: Success

Is the wound lethal? Yes

The recoil from the revolver rattled her teeth even as the dampener built into the grip absorbed most of the kick, but she ended up with the far kinder end of the gun. The head of the pegasus she’d kicked snapped back as the bullet struck him under the jaw, spraying blood out the other end of his dirty hood. He crumpled to the dirt and sand and stopped moving, but his companions paid him no attention. Their eyes were set on Kestrel and the bags of bits slung across her back.

The remaining pursuers fire upon Kestrel: Fail

A smattering of gunfire broke out, stray shots chewing through the ground. One clipped a feather out of Kestrel’s right wing, and she heard the bag of bits rattle as metal pinged off of one. At least they had been good for something so far; the metal coins would make decent makeshift armor for her back, assuming she could keep them there. But they didn’t cover her head or neck, and her gambler hat wasn’t going to offer much protection there.

Now it wasn’t so much about trying to outfly her pursuers as it was simply denying them a good shot. Her wings pitched one way and then the other, sending her left and right, up and down as a few last bullets coughed out of her pursuers’ guns. She tried to mentally count off all the shots fired her way so far. Surely they had to be out by now, right? Revolvers were impossible to reload in midair unless a pegasus stopped and hovered so they could use their hooves and not lose all their fresh bullets. If they were out, then all she had to do was try to not let them bring her down.

Can the pursuers force Kestrel to the ground? No

The shadows gathered around her, and soon she had the hot breath of the other pegasi breathing down her neck. They tried to grab onto her wings and send her to the ground, but Kestrel suddenly flew straight up, nearly tearing her wings out of her shoulders from the sudden strain. Her pursuers overshot her, and Kestrel quickly sighted one down with her revolver and fired.

Kestrel attempts to shoot another pursuer. Success

Does the pony survive? Yes

The barrel spit out a cloud of smoke and a guttering of sparks, and she saw her target tumble out of the sky and slide across the ground. Any celebration would have been premature, however, as the pony quickly picked himself up and spread his wings to rejoin the fight, if a little bit worse for wear.

Kestrel looked around, teeth worriedly clenching down on her weapon. This was quickly becoming an unwinnable situation. She had four shots left and three pursuers, and she couldn’t exactly stop to reload if she ran out. On top of that, she saw dust and movement in the direction she’d come from. All the gunfire and commotion must have attracted the rest of the gang, and they were closing in on her position. On top of that, she was exhausted, and the sun was sapping her strength while her throat screamed for water. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up—and then she heard a renewal of gunfire.

Does the Gang happen to be close by? Yes

Her eyes darted down to the smoke drifting up from behind a low ridge, and she let out a great sigh of relief as she saw Silver Wings’ gleaming namesake amidst the dust. The whole Gang had formed up behind cover and laid into the remaining pursuers with their own revolvers and repeaters. The other three pegasi tried to fly away, realizing how much danger they were in, but they didn’t get the chance. It was over in seconds, leaving only blood and one moaning, dying stallion on the sand below.

It was all Kestrel could do to land with any dignity and not immediately collapse onto the ground. Tumbleweed and Silver rushed over to her as she shed the bags, and they both gave her a shoulder to lean on. “By Celestia’s sunburnt ass, Kestrel, just what have you gotten yourself into?” Tumbleweed asked her, eyes dropping to the bags. “Is that it?”

Kestrel nodded and put her canteen to her lips with trembling wings. After slaking her thirst, she capped it and tucked it back inside her outfit. “I gotcha the money,” she said between pants. “Weren’t a whole lot… more trouble than it was worth, tell ya honest.”

“Worry about that later,” Snapshot said, eyes fixed on the road. “Company coming. Know we have the money.”

“Good, let ‘em come,” Roughshod growled, loading a fresh shell into his repeating shotgun. “About time we had a real proper shootout.”

Kestrel turned to the road and frowned. Sure enough, it looked like the rest of the other gang was converging on their position. There were maybe ten or fifteen ponies in all, but they had to cross the open sand or fly over to fight. The Gang had the advantage if they decided to stand and fight.

“You got us this far, Kessie,” Tumbleweed said in a low voice. “You got any plans for finishin’ it?”

We stand and fight. This haul is ours, and we have favorable ground. We can probably pick off half of ‘em before we get in any real danger.

Take the money and run. We might be able to get away from ‘em if we move now and ward ‘em off with lead, but if we get caught out in the open, that could be the end of us.

Leave the money and run. They won’t chase us if we leave the bags. It’s the bags they’s after, and we don’t have a chance of fightin’ outnumbered as we is.

(Certainty Required: 25 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18019288

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 6

Stand and Fight: 89%

“Yeah, I got a plan,” Kestrel said, sliding bullets out of her bandolier and into outstretched feathers. She popped open the cylinder on her revolver and quickly replaced the spent casings with fresh lead. Snapping the piece closed, she twirled it around her wingtip and pulled a second revolver out from a side holster. “We make ‘em come and take what’s ours.”

Tumbleweed grinned and emptied his revolvers, his maroon magic reloading them in a second. “With all this sneakin’ and actin’ you’d been makin’ us do, I was afraid we was gonna book it.”

“We ain’t gonna gain nothin’ ‘cept holes in the ground if we make a break for it here,” Kestrel said. “We got the ground, we got the guns, I say we rip ‘em apart and make a name for ourselves!”

“They’re gonna remember not to fuck with us!” Roughshod bellowed, propping his shotgun up on a rock and pulling out his sidearm. He slotted it into his mouth and nodded toward Tumbleweed. “Give the word, Boss.”

“Keep your heads low and your eyes high,” Tumbleweed said, readying himself as the opposing gang approached. “Snapshot, you’re our best gun, so you take care of their high fliers! The rest of you, cut them down before they get close! Get your firin’ lanes ready, and send these bastards back to their mothers!”

Kestrel nodded and readied her revolvers. She didn’t have a repeater with her which would have helped at range, but she could put lead downrange twice as fast with two guns. She found a cracked boulder and crouched behind it, then looked to her left, where Silver had taken her own repeater into her wings and readied a shot. Her eyes flicked toward Kestrel, and Kestrel gave her a reassuring nod. Silvie was young and inexperienced, but she was tougher than she appeared. It seemed like Lady Luck was always on her side, and she’d pull Silver through the coming fight just fine.

Gunshots rang out down the road, and Kestrel sighted down her first target: a broad-shouldered, burly earth pony. He was the easiest to hit at range, and she definitely did not want to let any earth ponies charge their position. Those hooves could crush her skull in a single kick if they got the chance.

“Shoot!” Tumbleweed bellowed, standing up from behind cover like a general rallying his troops. “Teach ‘em a lesson they ain’t ever gonna forget!”

Kestrel takes the first shots at the charging ponies: Fail

Her revolver thundered three times, but her wings were still shaky from her desperate flight, and the bullets went wide. The rest of the gang began to open fire as well, and gun smoke drifted across the hill top. She saw one of the opposing gang go down, a shotgun clattering into the dust, but his companions paid him no mind. Their sights were set on the hill, and four more pegasi took off from their group. Two flew straight up and toward the hill, while the other two began to circle off toward the right, trying to get a flanking position on the Gang.

Snapshot attempts to shoot the two pegasi approaching from the front: Fail

Snapshot’s weapons cracked off in response, but the two pegasi rushing them from the front managed to spin away from the pair of bullets. Snapshot’s brow furrowed, and his magic pulled the hammers back on both his weapons. “Dumb luck…” the stallion muttered, his words nearly lost among the cacophony on the hilltop.

The approaching pegasi attempt to shoot back at the Gang: Fail

But Snapshot’s bullets had thrown off their approach, and they fired wildly with their revolvers as they tried to get back on target. A few bullets cracked on the stones by Kestrel’s head, and she ducked back behind cover just to be safe. The other ponies were getting closer, and the Gang had hardly put a dent in their numbers.

“Volley!” Tumbleweed shouted, readying his weapons. “Scour their ranks!”

The Gang attempts to volley fire: Success

How many go down? 2

The Gang took a moment’s pause to ready their weapons, and at the crack of Tumbleweed’s revolvers, ripped a line of fire into the charging outlaws. Kestrel saw two go down, blood pouring from their wounds, and the advance faltered. She quickly tried to count their numbers as they tried to regroup and advance again. There were twelve of them now, and they were rapidly baring down on their position.

The opposing gang returns fire: Fail

Several of the other ponies stopped and tried to shoot back, forcing Kestrel and Silvie to duck low as bullets hurtled in their direction. But thankfully their cover held, and both mares were able to poke back around and return fire into the gang. Kestrel knew they only had a few more shots before the ponies reached their positions, and then things would get messy.

The flanking pegasi fire on the Gang: Success

Tumbleweed and Roughshod are Grazed and suffer a -1 to actions until treated.

A pair of reports split the gunfight to the right, and Kestrel glanced over to see the flanking pair of pegasi strafing their exposed side. Tumbleweed and Roughshod cried out and fell back from their positions, blood dripping from Tumbleweed’s cheek and Roughshod’s shoulder. Their shadows darted across the hilltop as they placed themselves between the sun and the Gang, negating the cover they’d secured for the charge.

Snapshot attempts to shoot the flanking pegasi: Success

Kestrel could see the frustration on the Gang’s best gun’s face as he lined up the shots on the two pegasi. It wasn’t like him to miss, and Kestrel knew he was blaming himself that the Boss and Roughshod had even been shot in the first place. The next two bullets, however, were perfectly placed, and both hooded pegasi fell to the ground with holes drilled clean through their skulls.

“Keep up the pressure!” Tumbleweed shouted, his magic dabbing at the wound on his cheek. Though it was just a grazing shot, it had startled and dazed him enough that he was slow on the draw. Roughshod too seemed slower than usual as he limped back to his shotgun and readied it, already aiming for the first pony to put their hoof on the foot of the hill.

And then they were upon them. The opposing gang began to ascend the hill, rushing straight for the Gang’s firing positions while the two remaining pegasi fired down from above. Roughshod’s shotgun boomed, opening up the ribcage of another earth pony before he could jump on him. Tumbleweed fired back, warding off a pair of ponies pressing his position, and to the left, Silvie screamed as a massive earth pony lowered his shoulder and attempted to bowl her over.

Silver Wings shoots at the pony charging her position: Success

Thankfully, her repeater cracked, and a bullet went clean through the earth pony’s skull. Kestrel let out a relieved breath and snapped her attention back to her immediate front. Two ponies charged her as well, and she quickly brought both wings to bear and fired both revolvers near-simultaneously.

Kestrel attempts to shoot both assailants: Success

Her wings shook as the revolvers threw them back, and she dropped both of the charging ponies before they could get to her position. One fell immediately as she shot through her neck, while the other fell to the ground and convulsed as her bullet entered his ribcage, likely perforating his heart.

Has the stubborn resistance of the Gang convinced the survivors to retreat? Yes

With their assault breaking and splintering around them, the survivors at the bottom of the hill faltered, hesitated, and ultimately turned tail and began to flee back the way they came. Even the pegasi circling above suddenly pulled out, flying as quickly as they could to escape a few parting shots from the Gang. All in all, out of the fifteen ponies that had tried to force the Gang’s position, only six survived to tell the tale. But even then, a parting shot from Silvie dropped one on the road, leaving only five to flee for cover.

“That’s right!” Tumbleweed shouted, emerging from cover and holstering his revolvers. “Run back to your camp, you gutless roaches! Stay outta our way next time, and maybe we won’t have to wipe you out once and for all!”

“They’re getting away!” Roughshod growled, ready to bolt down the hill. “Don’t let a single one of ‘em live! I say we skin ‘em!”

“Let them go, they’ve had enough!” Silvie protested, standing up on shaky limbs. “If we try to chase them, we might be the ones getting shot!”

Tumbleweed sneered after the fleeing gang, but he turned back to his crew before settling on a decision. Snapshot remained impassive, though Kestrel knew the fidgety stallion never really voiced his input on decisions like this. Instead, she knew Tumbleweed was waiting for her input before coming to a decision.

Chase them down. We let ‘em live, they might come back and haunt us later. Better to clean up any loose ends and leave ‘em for the buzzards.

Let them go. They’re beat, and we’ve sent a message they ain’t gonna forget. If they have anypony else in that gang of theirs, they’ll know that we mean business and leave us be.

Try to follow them. If they flee back to their camp, we might find where their camp is. Could be valuable knowledge should it come up later. [DANGEROUS]

Confidence Required: 25

Author's Note

Lady Luck wasn't too happy with the start of this chapter, throwing three 10's at me in a row (I roll these using a 1d10 and high numbers are bad). Guess she wanted to avoid a shootout for some reason.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18021786

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 7

Try to follow them: 52%

Gain progress toward the following Quirk: Daring (1/4)

“We should see where they’s runnin’ to,” Kestrel said with a shrug of her wings. “We might learn somethin’.”

“Learn somethin’?” Roughshod scoffed. “Only thing I wanna know is if these yellow-bellied bastards got stones on ‘em or not. I’m leaning toward that second one.”

Tumbleweed frowned, but Kestrel took a few steps closer. “You always sayin’ that knowledge is power, Boss. If we’s gonna set up camp ‘round these parts, we gotta know who our competition is. They had a lot of ponies for that one little wagon, and there might be way more of ‘em.”

“What does it matter if there’s more?” Roughshod countered. “Just means more to shoot. I say we gun ‘em down and be done with it.”

Finally, Tumbleweed sighed and shook his head. “No, no, I think… I think Kessie’s right on this one,” he said. When Roughshod bared his teeth in disgust, Tumbleweed fixed him down with a look. “We might have just put a huge target on our heads, and I ain’t fixin’ to be caught in its crosshairs unawares. If we can get a better look at what we’re up against, well, that might just save our lives one day.”

Though Roughshod obviously wasn’t happy with the decision, he didn’t protest it further. With that matter resolved, Tumbleweed turned his attention to Kestrel. “There’s too many of us to follow them on hoof and not get caught,” he said. “Go and take Silvie with you, get high, follow ‘em from the clouds. But if you find more than you handle, you promise me that you both get outta there and get back to camp.”

Kestrel nodded. “I know better than to push my luck too hard.”

“Good.” Tumbleweed then turned to the rest of the Gang. “Roughshod, Snapshot, grab those two bags of bits, we’ll haul ‘em back to camp and get ‘em counted out. Maybe there’s something we missed inside; this haul’s paltry compared to what I’d expect from dear Miss Rarity Belle’s fine enterprises.”

“I found some bills in the safe, but that’s it,” Kestrel said, digging the bill folds out of her duster and tossing them to Tumbleweed. “’Bout a hundred in there. Better than nothin’.”

Tumbleweed caught them in his magic and nodded. “Better than nothin’, I agree.” He tucked them into his pocket and patted her on the shoulder. “Good work with the wagon, for whatever this job was worth. See you back at camp.”

Kestrel tipped her hat. “I’ll be back by nightfall,” she said. Then, turning to Silver, she waved a wing. “C’mon, Silvie, let’s get some air.”

Silver bobbed her head in acknowledgment and slung her repeater across her back, nestling it in the space between her wings. As the stallions began to leave with the haul, the two mares took wing and began to climb into the sky at a leisurely pace, letting the hot air rising off of the desert do most of the heavy lifting for them. Kestrel knew they’d be in for a long flight, and she was already exhausted from her dash away from the wagon. The more rest she could get while gaining altitude, the better.

Fifteen minutes later, the two pegasi had climbed almost up to the clouds. The whole of the San Palomino desert stretched out beneath them, golden sands rolling off toward the horizons where umber mesas met sapphire skies. Buttes worn down by millions of years of wind and sand rose from the desert at regular intervals. To the north and east, the land gradually grew more rugged and stony until vegetation began to take it over, while the south and west were sandy dunes and dry ground framed by distant brown mountains and the faint blue tinge of the Luna Ocean. Towns dotted the landscape around oases and narrow rivers, and canyons hid plenty from sight, leaving their contents to the imagination.

“See ‘em?” Silver shouted over the high altitude winds. The mare’s gleaming coat seemed like a star out of place under the bright sun, only slightly dimmed by her cream-colored overcoat. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, and she squinted through the glare of the sun above and its reflection off the sands below.

Can Kestrel spot the fleeing survivors? No

Kestrel frowned at the desert sands below them and rubbed at her sand-heavy eyelashes with a fetlock. Her eyes drifted back and forth across the road below, but she didn’t see any clues to the survivors’ position. Last she’d seen, they’d entered into some rough and rugged terrain past a butte, but now there were no clouds of dust kicked up by hooves or pegasi flying over the landscape. Wherever they had gone, they were being careful, and Kestrel didn’t like that one bit.

“The bastards must be in the rough down below!” Kestrel shouted back. “Can’t see ‘em from here!”

“There’s a gulch up ahead!” Silvie shouted, pointing with a hoof toward the south. “Maybe ten, fifteen miles from the road. Think that’s where they’s headed?”

Does the gulch seem like a reasonable destination? Yes

“I don’t know where else they’d be runnin’ to!” Kestrel flapped her wings some more, wincing at the aches in her shoulders. When she finally got back to camp to rest, she didn’t know if she’d be able to keep her wings furled at her sides or not. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to use them for a few days while they recovered. “C’mon, let’s take a closer look!”

The two pegasi began to descend, circling wide of the rough terrain and the gulch at the end of it. Boulders and scraggly vegetation blocked their view into the terrain from above, but it would hopefully mask their approach if there was anypony else there looking out. Several minutes of descent brought the pair down low enough to investigate the land further, and Kestrel practically sighed with relief as she finally took her weight off of her wings and put it back onto her hooves.

Kestrel attempts to resist exhaustion: Fail

Kestrel is now Tired, suffering a -1 penalty to athletic checks until resting for several hours.

Silver flared her wings as she came to a stop by Kestrel’s side, and she raised an eyebrow in concern when the older mare hung her head and let her wings drape by her sides, panting from their flight. “You alright, Kestrel?” she asked, moving closer. “You ain’t lookin’ too good.”

“I’m fine,” Kestrel said between breaths. “Just… winded, s’all.”

Silver chewed on her lip and looked around. The high ground they’d chosen was empty and quiet, save for the buzzing of locusts. But Kestrel could tell by the way that her wings were fidgeting that the young pegasus hardly felt at ease. “I don’t like it here…” she murmured. “This is a bad idea…”

After taking a few sips from her canteen, Kestrel managed to stand upright and shake some of the sweat out of her mane. “C’mon, we’s here now, ain’t we? We better take a look around, otherwise we flew out all this way for nothing.”

Are Silver’s Instincts troubling her? No

Though Silver’s wings still fidgeted, she eventually chased her apprehension away with a shake of her head. “Right, right,” she said, trotting up to Kestrel’s side. “Let’s go take a look, then.”

The two mares stalked low through the dried-out bushes and whiting cacti, careful to stay as quiet as possible. The ridge they’d landed on offered a decent look into the gulch, though the rocky mess of the geography made it difficult to see everything. Eventually, the two mares crawled forward over the hot ground until they could peer down into the ravine.

How much detail of the gulch can Kestrel see? 10

Thankfully, the spot they’d chosen gave Kestrel a perfect view of what she could see in the gulch. Several tents had been pitched around a spring, and smoke rose from several fires before the persistent breeze above the rocks blew it away. A few wagons had been rounded off at one end of the camp, and Kestrel spied what looked like enough guns to form a state militia’s armory. One wagon in particular had been separated off from the others, and when she squinted, she thought she could see the glitter of gold beneath a half-fastened canvas flap.

Then there were the ponies. She didn’t know exactly how many she could see at a glance, but there were at least two dozen of them, and maybe more. Whoever this gang was, they were large and organized, even if they didn’t have the best fighters, as proven by their previous encounter. A gang like this could be trouble for her own gang if they happened to cross paths in numbers.

“Look at all that gold!” Silver exclaimed in an excited whisper. “These ponies must just hit everythin’ that strays near their territory. I wonder how much they have stockpiled?”

“A damn lot, I reckon,” Kestrel murmured.

“What should we do?” Silvie asked her. “That’s a lot of ponies…”

Leave and report back to the Gang. We know there’s a lotta ponies here, and there’s a lotta loot as well. But every moment we risk stayin’ out here is a moment we could get found out. Let’s bail before it’s too late.

Stick around and try to gather more information. What we’ve found is good, but there’s a chance we might find somethin’ even better if we can get a closer look… [DANGEROUS]

Attempt to steal some of that gold. The Gang’ll hail Silvie and me as goddesses if we come back with some of that gold. And after all, gold’s what we need right now, right? [EXTREMELY DANGEROUS]

(Confidence Required: 30 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18030214

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 8

Leave and report to the Gang: 62%

“If we stick around too much longer, we ain’t ever goin’ back to camp,” Kestrel said, scooting away from the edge. “We know where their camp is, we know they got a lotta ponies, and they got a lotta gold. Let’s just get this news back to Tumbleweed and let him figure out what we gonna do with it.”

Silver Wings seemed at once both disappointed and relieved. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that. Still, that’s a lotta gold to just be leaving there…”

“I don’t think this lot is gonna move it anytime soon,” Kestrel assured her. “Maybe we’ll have a chance to go and get it later. Now c’mon, let’s get moving.”

That was when she heard the click of a revolver’s hammer being pulled back.

Did Silver and Kestrel miss something important when approaching the gulch? Yes

The two mares froze in place at the telltale sound, wings slightly extended. Hooves shifted over the ground, along with shaky breathing. “Turn… turn around!” a mare’s voice ordered. “I’ll shoot ya, I swear to Celestia I will!”

Kestrel took care not to make any sudden movements and slowly looked over her shoulder. A scrawny earth pony mare stood behind her and Silvie, her coat as richly brown and red as the mesas and buttes around them. No wonder they hadn’t noticed her on the way in; if she stood still, she was nearly impossible to distinguish from the landscape.

But she wasn’t standing still now. She’d widened her stance into something resembling a gunslinger’s stance if one only knew what a gunslinger was from the moving pictures. She was also quite young, maybe twenty-five at best—younger even than Silvie. But the red-brown of her face was broken up with white scars like she’d been in a fight with a pack of wild dogs or even a cougar and had somehow lived to tell the tale. Underneath all of that, however, she was nervous, and the shaky grip on her revolver didn’t exactly make her intimidating.

“Alright, alright,” Kestrel said, turning around to face her. She held her wings up and away from her sides an attempt to calm the mare—if she got startled, she was likely to shoot, and even if the bullet didn’t kill her, Kestrel knew that the noise would attract the attention of the camp below, and they would certainly kill her and Silvie. “We, uh, ain’t gonna cause any trouble. Let’s not do something we’re gonna regret now, okay?”

“Who are you?” the earth pony asked. “What are you doing here? This is Viper Gang territory!”

If she found out that we were responsible for shooting up her gang over the wagon, this ain’t gonna end well, Kestrel thought to herself. She glanced at Silvie for an idea, but the young mare only chewed on her lip and eyed the revolver nervously. She likely had come to the same conclusions that Kestrel had. “We’re uh… treasure hunters,” Kestrel said. “Saw this gulch through here, wondered what was at the end. The buffalo, you see, they used to hide gold all over places like this.”

Is Kestrel’s lie convincing? Yes

The earth pony took a step back, but she didn’t lower her gun. “I… I guess that makes sense,” she said, carefully speaking around the bit grip in her mouth. “But Rattlesnake’s still gonna wanna see you two. Ain’t nopony pass through his territory without him knowing about it.”

“That sounds like a lot more hassle than it’s worth,” Kestrel said, slowly walking to the left. The earth pony turned to watch her, and Kestrel had to keep her smirk hidden as Silver began to creep around in the opposite direction. This young mare wasn’t nearly as experienced as her two captives; the smarter thing would have been to back up and keep both mares in her sight. But if Silvie was going to get behind their captor, then Kestrel needed to keep her attention. “Think you can just let us go and let us be on our way?”

Kestrel attempts to keep the mare’s attention: Fail

The earth pony suddenly spun around, her revolver settling on Silver, who had just started to approach her from behind. “No! Stay back!” she shouted, forcing Silver to retreat a few steps. “I don’t like this at all! You’re comin’ with me, and then we’re gonna see the boss, and he’s gonna decide what to do with you!”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Kestrel said.

Kestrel attempts to draw her weapon while the mare is distracted: Success

The earth pony turned back to Kestrel, only to stare down blackened steel. Her pupils shrank and her ears fell flat on her head as Kestrel let the barrel kiss her nose. “You smell that?” she asked her. “You know what that smell is? That’s gunpowder. Unlike you, I already been shootin’ today. And I bet you a million bits that I know how to use a gun much better than you, filly. You so much as think about shootin’ that thing, I’m gonna give you a third nostril. You understand me?”

Kestrel attempts to intimidate the other pony: Fail

Despite how much her jaw trembled, the earth pony refused to back down. Kestrel didn’t know if she was brave, or just stupid… or maybe stupidly brave. “If you shoot that, then everypony in the gulch is gonna know you’re here,” she said, her voice wavering.

Kestrel saw Silver approach from behind, knife in her teeth, and the earth pony gasped when she felt the blade under her jaw. “I don’t need a gun to kill ya,” Kestrel said, smirking. “My friend here can do that in the blink of an eye. Now. Drop the gun.”

Kestrel and Silver combine to intimidate the other pony: Success

Jaw trembling, the young earth pony finally opened her mouth and let the revolver clatter to the ground. Kestrel reached forward with her hoof and swept it out of reach, then holstered her own weapon. “Keep that knife on her, Silvie,” she said as she stepped back. The silver pegasus nodded, the motion making the earth pony gasp as the blade danced along her throat.

“Please…” the other mare murmured, eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t… d-don’t wanna…”

“Oh, I know,” Kestrel said, slowly pacing to the earth pony’s other side. “I know exactly what that’s like. Believe me, I’ve had more weapons pulled on me than you got years to your name. What exactly is your name now, friend? I feel it’s only proper to get to know your name.”

“S-S-Sienna,” the earth pony stammered. “Sienna, ma’am.”

“Sienna, beautiful name.” Kestrel smiled and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a match struck off of her horseshoe. After taking a drag on it, she blew the smoke into Sienna’s face, making the mare whimper and shrink back. “Sienna, Sienna, Sienna. What’re we gonna do with you, Sienna?”

Kill her and be done with it. Can’t risk having her make any noise and alerting the camp below. All Silvie’s gotta do is pull that knife back and it’s done.

Let her go. We scared the piss outta her, she ain’t gonna put up a fight. Let her run back with her tail between her legs, we’ll be long gone by the time she can tell anypony.

Tie her up and take her back to camp. Seein’ the camp is one thing, but talkin’ with one a’ these ‘Viper Gang’ ponies might give us something more interestin’. We got rope, we can tie her down and haul her back with us, let Roughshod work her over some and see what she squeals.

(Confidence Required: 30 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18041587

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 10

It took the two mares another hour to fly back to their camp, situated clear on the other side of Rock Ridge. It was slow going as Silvie struggled to carry Sienna back, but Kestrel was simply happy that she could relax her wings some. Sienna was too frightened to make a sound, but then again, Kestrel didn’t think she’d make good conversation anyway.

The Gang had chosen their camp well. It was nestled on a cleft jutting out from the side of a mesa, with some cacti and scraggly vegetation for cover to keep the flat area obscured from afar. But from that ledge, they could survey Rock Ridge in the distance and miles upon miles of open desert. Unless ponies approached from the northwest and stuck close to the base of the mesa, or simply flew over it, the Gang would be able to see them coming.

Kestrel’s eyes fell on a lone figure perched on an outcropping of rock overlooking the camp. Snapshot’s bright blue coat was easy to recognize at a distance, and she guessed that he’d volunteered for first watch after dinner like he usually did. He stood a bit straighter when he saw the extra passenger on Silver’s back, and he watched them fly into the camp with a frown.

It was a rough landing for Kestrel, but she at least managed to maintain her balance—and her dignity. Silver came in a little harder, and she barely took more than a few steps before she rolled Sienna off her hindquarters and let the earth pony hit the ground with a thud. Sienna yelped and squirmed, and the commotion soon attracted the attention of the rest of the camp.

The first to approach was an old stallion with a faded red coat and a whitening muzzle in the death throes of old age. Wanderer was the oldest pony in the Gang by far, but he commanded the most respect out of the crew apart from Tumbleweed himself. The old stallion had fallen in with the group a few years back and quickly found himself as something resembling a father figure for many of the lost souls in it. He was knowledgeable and wise, and if he said something, everypony listened. Even Roughshod.

“Looks like you had a bit of an adventure, didn’t you, girls?” he asked as he approached. His eyes fell on the blindfolded and bound earth pony wriggling on the ground and raised an eyebrow. “And who’s this? A friend of yours?”

“Somepony stupid enough to jump the two of us by herself,” Kestrel said, drawing her knife. “Can somepony fetch Tumbleweed while I help our guest get comfortable?”

“I believe he was talking with Miss Irons, I’ll go fetch him,” Wanderer said, and with a ruffle of his messy old feathers, he disappeared back amongst the tents and the wagons.

“I’ll go get us some chow,” Silver said, rolling her shoulders and wincing. “Hopefully Rough didn’t eat it all.”

“If he did, just kick ‘im until he shares,” Kestrel grunted.

The knife slipped through the rope holding Sienna’s forelegs to her sides, and the mare whimpered as she felt metal along her side. “W-Where am I? Where are we?” she asked, blindly whipping her head left and right.

“Don’t squirm about so much,” Kestrel grunted, working on freeing her hind legs. “I ain’t gonna waste cloth bandagin’ you back up if I stick ya.”

That quickly put an end to Sienna’s struggles, and soon Kestrel was hauling her to her hooves. She didn’t remove the blindfold yet, however. She knew that Tumbleweed would want to do that personally and make an impression.

And soon the Boss joined them, Wanderer and Miss Irons, another elderly mare, in his wake. Kestrel knew better than to doubt Miss Irons’ will, however. The unicorn was the enforcer of anything Tumbleweed declared in camp, and if Wanderer was like a wizened grandfather, then Miss Irons was a mean nanny. Still, she was always fair, though Kestrel had to wonder if she or Roughshod was going to get the first turn at working Sienna over for information.

“Well, well, well, what have we got here?” Tumbleweed asked as he approached. Sienna locked up at the sound of so many hoofsteps approaching, and Kestrel had to practically hold the mare upright. “She a friend of those ponies that shot at us earlier today?”

“They’re called the Viper Gang, ‘pparently,” Kestrel said, shoving Sienna forward. The mare squeaked in alarm and fell forward, only for Tumbleweed to catch her in his magic before she could further break her nose on the ground. “There’s a lot of ‘em. Our friend Sienna can probably tell us more. Oh, and they got gold.”

“Gold?” Tumbleweed seemed to consider that for a moment before he grabbed Sienna by the cheeks and dragged her closer. The mare had practically gone limp out of fear by this point, and she put up no resistance as Tumbleweed looked her over and finally pulled the bandana off of her eyes. Her eyes met his, and she seemed to shrink even further inside herself. Even Tumbleweed could be scary when he wanted to.

“You look like you’ve enjoyed a healthy relationship with a cactus,” Tumbleweed teased, looking over the scars on her face. Her nose was crooked from Kestrel breaking it earlier, and dried blood clung to her muzzle. “Or maybe you wrestle griffons. Whatever it is you survived, I guarantee you that your stay here will make it seem like a vacation in paradise. Unless, of course, you cooperate.”

“I-I’ll be g-good!” Sienna whimpered. “Please, j-just please don’t kill me!”

“Part of me is inclined to think that killin’ you would be a mercy,” Tumbleweed said. “Maybe you’ll think that too, in time.”

He dropped Sienna to the ground, and the young mare merely covered her face and cowered. “Roughshod, will you come over here and get this mare bound to somethin’ secure?” he asked, eyes falling on the bulky earth pony sitting by the fire. Then, turning back to Sienna one last time, he put a hoof on her shoulder. “Let me put it to you this way, filly. I will do my best to be fair, and honest, and just with you. But if you do not reciprocate,” he said, emphasizing each syllable, “then I will be forced to get nasty. However nasty your boss may have been in this Viper Gang, I guarantee you, I will be worse. My friend Roughshod here is good at breaking bones. You got an earth pony’s bones, but he’s got an earth pony’s strength.”

He grabbed Sienna’s face one more time and forced her to look at him again. “Do not make me have to have him use it.”

Sienna was little more than a sniveling wreck at this point, and Tumbleweed let her head fall back to the ground as Roughshod stepped forward to haul her away. “C’mon, little filly,” he said, eyes falling over her lean form like a starving coyote. “Let’s go get you tied up nice and secure.”

Kestrel watched the whole scene unfold with a frown on her face, but she nevertheless politely nodded when Tumbleweed approached her. “You did good today, Kessie,” he said. “I thought you were a fool when you wanted to go and find their camp, but it appears I was mistaken.”

“Naw, I’m still a fool,” Kestrel said with a shake of her head. “Just a lucky one.”

“Fair enough. Oh, and I counted our take from the job.”

Kestrel mentally braced herself for the disappointing numbers she knew she was about to hear. “Oh?”

“Little under three hundred bits,” Tumbleweed said, his face turning dour. “I’m glad you found that extra hundred in bills, at least. It ain’t much, but it’s a start. I set half aside to stash and save, and I gave Miss Irons free use of the other half to make sure we got supplies for our camp.”

“We’ll have to do more diggin’ in Rock Ridge,” Kestrel said. “Maybe we can find somethin’ a bit better.”

“It was our first day in town, and we were just desperate for somethin’, anythin’,” Tumbleweed said. “But at least we have enough money to last us a month or two out here if we don’t spend it on anythin’ fancy. But I agree; tomorrow, I’m gonna take a bunch of us down into town and see what we can dig up. For now, though, I think most ponies just wanna celebrate our first successful take after slippin’ the Pinks back in Dodge Junction and caravanning across the San Palomino.” His magic produced a bottle of whiskey from somewhere, and he tilted it in Kestrel’s direction. “You gonna stay up some?”

Kestrel yawned and covered her muzzle with her feathers. “Dunno. Gonna eat somethin’ when Silvie comes back, then think about it.”

“Whatever suits you,” Tumbleweed said. He pulled the cork out of the bottle and put it to his lips, smirking at her as he walked away. “Try not to let Wanderer outlast ya, at least. He’ll never let you live it down.”

Kestrel merely shook her head as he walked away.

Sit by the fire with Silver and Wanderer.

Drink with Tumbleweed and Roughshod.

Retire early for the night.

(Confidence Required: 30 Votes)

Kestrel has returned to the Gang’s camp. The camp is a safe place to rest and recover after missions, and also where hauls must be taken once a job is finished. Hauls will only be added to the Gang’s total savings if they can be brought back to the camp safely.

Armored Wagon Robbery Summary:

The Gang's morale has improved slightly following their first successful take in Rock Ridge

Law Attention remains unchanged due to the Viper Gang attack on the wagon taking the blame

Kestrel has gained honor for attempting to take the wagon's haul without violence (+5)

Kestrel has gained honor for taking Sienna back alive instead of killing her (+5)

Kestrel has gained no bounty from this mission.

Total Take: $293

Gang Savings: $147

Camp Morale: Good

Law Attention: 1 (Low)

Kestrel’s Honor: +10

Kestrel’s Local Bounty: $0

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18050346

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 11

Sit by the fire: 73%

After a few minutes of waiting, Silver hadn’t returned with the grub, leaving Kestrel to wander out from her simple lean-to in search of a warm meal. She already had a good idea of why the silver mare wasn’t forthcoming: she’d probably been waylaid by conversation. And Silver was nothing if not a conversationalist.

The camp was alive with the buzz of activity as the sun finally set, bringing dark night over the desert. She saw movement near the edge of the camp overlooking the desert paired with Roughshod’s loud growl and Tumbleweed’s mild laugh. The two of them must have been drinking to celebrate the haul. Snapshot remained posted on the rock face above the camp, eyes ever-vigilant for the law or, even worse, the Pinks, and even if he wasn’t on watch, Kestrel knew he wouldn’t be participating in any celebration or festivities anyway. At the edge of the camp, Roughshod had bound Sienna to a wagon wheel, her forelegs bound over her head at the top of the wheel and her midsection tied tight around the spokes. The position was hardly comfortable and tears ran down the frightened mare’s face, garnering a little bit of sympathy from Kestrel as she passed. But she knew those ropes wouldn’t be undone until Tumbleweed decided otherwise.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a good thing to bring that mare back to camp, but Kestrel knew the Gang’s safety took priority over everything else. She just hoped Sienna would cooperate, or Tumbleweed would hold true to his threats.

But her rumbling stomach didn’t let her keep her attention on the prisoner for long. Instead, she followed the sound of a guitar toward a flickering light on the other side of camp. There, she found Wanderer and Silvie seated by the fire, guitar in the old stallion’s wings while Silver ate and talked, usually at the same time. Silver had never been too forthcoming about her family and her past, but it was obvious that Wanderer filled some hole in her heart, because she always sought the stallion out when they were in camp and loved to talk with him. Wanderer, for his part, was a good listener at least, since it was nearly impossible to get a word in once Silvie started going full force.

Whatever (one-sided) conversation they were having, Kestrel interrupted it with the grace of a buffalo stampede as she walked between then and exaggeratedly rubbed a wing over her gut. “Celestia, I’m starving,” she moaned. “I been waiting hours for my silver servant to bring my royal majesty somethin’ good to eat!”

Silvie sat bolt upright in sudden realization, then shrank back down in shame. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Kestrel!” she said, profusely apologizing as she quickly picked up a bowl of stew that had already started to cool as it sat by her side, forgotten. She held it out to Kestrel and smiled uncertainly. “I got you some stew, I did, I just… well…”

Kestrel chuckled and took it in her wing. “Oh, I know. You couldn’t help yourself but talk Wanderer’s ear off, could ya?”

“She’s a great conversationalist,” Wanderer teased. “She does all the talking for me!”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Kestrel held the bowl of stew over the fire for a minute to let it heat up again, then took a seat by Silvie’s side. “Don’t mind me,” she said as she took her first spoonfuls. “I’m more interested in the eatin’ than the gabbin’.”

“I don’t even remember what we were… I was gabbin’ about in the first place,” Silver admitted.

“You were just talking about Canterlot,” Wanderer reminded her. “You lived there for a few years, right?”

“Oh yeah!” Silvie’s face brightened as she quickly found her lost train of thought. “Yeah, my pa and me moved to Canterlot when I was eight. I thought I was gonna be a princess. That’s where all the Princesses live, right? It was the most exciting thing for a little filly like I was then.”

Kestrel guffawed and slapped Silver on the back. “Oh, don’t kid yourself, Silvie. You’s still a little filly here.”

Silver frowned. “Well at least I’m not the youngest anymore!” she said, pointing into the distance. “Sienna’s five years younger than me!”

“I wouldn’t count her yet,” Wanderer said. “Who knows how long we’re gonna keep her around for.”

“Tumbleweed might just wanna put her in the ground once she talks,” Kestrel said with a nod. “Less dangerous that way. But don’t go tellin’ her any of that. She won’t ever talk then.”

Silver looked down at her own nearly empty bowl. “Yeah, I suppose…”

Kestrel patted her on the back. “Leave the torturin’ and interrogatin’ to the experts, Silvie. You just focus on doin’ you.”

The young pegasus blinked. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“She means don’t worry about it,” Wanderer said. “You’re young, and you haven’t been with us for all that long. You’re still trying to find your place, no shame in it.”

“I’ve been with you for six months now!” Silver protested. “I was there when we hit that train!”

“Way I seem to remember it, you was supposed to get on a different train at that station, saw a bunch of shady characters chasin’ down a government train, and couldn’t help yourself but join along,” Kestrel said with a laugh and a shake of her head. “If you hadn’t saved Tumbleweed’s life in the coal car, I don’t think he woulda let you join us.”

“You ever regret it?” Wanderer asked Silver.

“No!” Silver exclaimed without a moment’s hesitation. “Pa was puttin’ me on that train to go to Van Hoover and learn to be a lady. I was gonna stay with my auntie who I hadn’t seen since I was three and join the aristocracy. Big, frilly dresses and teatime three times a day, with evenin’s of listenin’ to piano and staring at abstract art, commentin’ how modern it is…”

“Sounds a mite better than sittin’ around a dusty campfire eatin’ salted offal,” Kestrel said. “You coulda had all the money and comforts you wanted.”

“The only money I ever woulda seen in that life would be an allowance from my future husband,” Silver grumbled. “I like this. I like the excitement, the adventure, doin’ things our own way and not lettin’ anypony tell us ‘no’. I only wish I coulda found y’all sooner.”

Wanderer sighed and shook his head. “If I were you, I would have taken that life,” he said, solemn eyes staring into the fire. “Our days are coming to an end, dear Silver. The government wants to stamp us out once and for all. The Pinkie Pie Detective Agency—the Pinks—they’ve been hounding us since the hotel. We may have slipped them for now, but sooner or later, they will find us again. And if we don’t have the money to leave this country and disappear for good, we’re going to find ourselves on the end of their ropes before long.”

Silence fell over the campfire as Wanderer brought them all back down to earth. That was the situation, and Kestrel knew it. It was the only purpose the Gang had left anymore: steal enough money to leave the country and go someplace the Pinks would never find them, or run out of time and die like so many other gangs before them.

The strumming of Wanderer’s guitar filled the proceeding silence around the fire as, for once, Silver had nothing to say. Kestrel finished her bowl of stew and set it aside, her eyes not leaving the fire. Sometimes she thought she could see things in the flames, but Miss Irons had always waved such tales off as superstition. No such images presented themselves to her tonight, but then again, she didn’t have all that long to look into the fire before another pony interrupted them.

“Look at the three of you, all solemn-like,” Miss Irons said as she walked past. “Tumbleweed and Roughshod have the right idea. At least they look like they’re enjoying themselves.”

“We are,” Wanderer said. “At least, I am. My terrible playing hasn’t scared these two fillies off yet.”

“It’s not terrible!” Silver protested. “I like it a lot!”

“At least somepony does,” Miss Irons said with a wry smile. She leaned over and kissed Wanderer, rubbing a hoof between his wings. “I’m going to get some rest,” she said. “Will you be over soon?”

“In dear time, my lady,” he said, winking at her. “Kessie looks like she’s about to keel over. I want to see if I can outlast at least one of these hotblooded young’uns tonight.”

“Fat chance,” Kestrel said with a derisive wave of a wing… even if the end of the wave saw her covering her muzzle as she yawned.

“I’d love to see that,” Miss Irons said. Nevertheless, she shook her head, pecked Wanderer on the cheek again, and disappeared without so much as a ‘goodnight’ to the other mares around the fire.

After a few moments of silence, Kestrel let her eyes fall back to the fire. “Seems like she’s only sweet on you,” she said.

“Love does strange things to a mare,” Wanderer said. He smirked back at Kestrel. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”

Silver blinked in surprise. “Wait… Kestrel, is there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me?” She clapped her hooves together like an excited schoolfilly. “I didn’t know you ever fell in love! Tell me all about it!”

Kestrel’s eyes lingered on the flames for several long moments as long-buried memories came swirling back to the forefront of her mind. Memories of...

A traveling artist, who flew across Equestria in search of inspiration for his paintings. His family auctioned off everything he owned to pay off his debts when he died, apart from a simple sketch of Kestrel in profile that she keeps tucked next to her heart.

A gold prospector, who ventured deep into the Equestrian west to make it big, all by herself. She never struck it rich, but she gave Kestrel a charm made of eagle feathers that she hangs from the post of her lean-to. The last time Kestrel saw her, a grizzly bear had opened up her chest with its long, cruel claws.

A train conductor, who looked the other way when the Gang needed to hide on a freight car to escape the Law. He brought them food and water, and would see Kestrel whenever they happened to be near Dodge Junction. But his employers were bought out not long afterwards, and he disappeared into the north as they moved him to a different line. He left Kestrel a love letter and the ring he would have given her had they been able to marry.

A rich filly, daughter of an oil magnate, infatuated with the wild life of an outlaw. She had nearly run away from her family altogether before her father intervened and cast Kestrel away, threatening to kill her on sight if he ever saw her again. His daughter had no choice but to stop seeing Kestrel and broke her heart. All Kestrel has to remember her by is a scratched locket with a picture of the two of them by the lake.

Nothing but fuzzy memories of brothels and whiskey.

(Confidence Required: 30 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18064421

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 13

The Sheriff’s Office: 35%

Kestrel has removed her exhaustion after a good night’s sleep

It had been a long time since Kestrel had slept as soundly as she did that night. Usually she slept light in case of trouble, but after all the flying she did the day before, along with carrying an earth pony halfway back to camp, she slept like a rock. It was only the smell of breakfast that roused her from her lean-to the next morning.

She wandered over to the fire after freshening up some to find that Tumbleweed had already assembled the gang for the day’s journey. She took a plate of scrambled eggs and sat down nearby while the rest of the gang prepared to head out. After discussing a few things with Wanderer and Miss Irons, Tumbleweed soon turned his attention to the more able-bodied members of his gang once he saw Kestrel had arrived to join them. “Smell the air, fillies and gentlecolts. Do you know what that is? That’s the smell of opportunity!”

“Smells more like eggs and oats to me,” Kestrel quipped between bites.

“Opportunity can smell like a lot of things, dear Kessie,” Tumbleweed said, flicking his tail in her direction. “But with yesterday’s first successful haul done in this town, we’re finally back on our hooves! And now that we know this place isn’t completely bone dry, it’s time we start lookin’ for more money to take.”

“Hopefully it’ll be better than what we got outta that wagon,” Roughshod grumbled. “We ain’t gonna get rich quick if it’s all like that.”

“That was just a fluke,” Tumbleweed assured him. “But there was more to that job than what we got out of the wagon. We got information, and information, see, that’s even more valuable than a few hundred bits.”

“Can’t buy much with information,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “Most ponies prefer cold, hard bits.”

“Ah, but as you said yourself, this Viper Gang has gold on them,” Tumbleweed said, grinning. “But that’s a bit of a ways off. First, we need to make our esteemed guest share with us what she knows. Then we can decide what to do about that gold.”

Kestrel looked over her shoulder to where Sienna was still bound to the wheel. She didn’t know if the earth pony had slept at all the night before, but she knew by her grimace that she was hungry. Who knew when the last time she ate something was—nopony had certainly given her anything since they brought her back to camp, and that was likely to continue for a little while yet, until Tumbleweed got what he wanted out of her.

“So what’s our plan?” Silver asked, tossing her tin plate aside. She fluttered up to her hooves, stretching her wings for the flight into town. “Should I do some scoutin’ ahead?”

“No need to look for things when somepony is liable to just tell us what we want without even realizin’ it,” Tumbleweed said. “You, me, Kessie, and Wanderer will go into town and see what we can find, askin’ around. We’ll meet back up at the saloon for lunch and discuss what we turned up, and we’ll figure out our next move from there.”

“I’m going to chat up the saloon anyway,” Wanderer said. “Ponies love to talk when they get a little drink in them, and they talk even more if they’re playing cards. I’ll see what I can find.”

Kestrel nodded. “I was thinkin’ of seein’ what the sheriff knows ‘round these parts,” she said. “You saw the size of that office. Must be somepony important to get a place like that, and important ponies always know the best things.”

“You’re not worried about being recognized?” Silver asked her.

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Kestrel assured her. “We had to cross a damn desert to get here. All our wanted posters are up north; nopony would have put ‘em down here if we never been to this parts before.”

“And what a blessed thing that is,” Tumbleweed said. “Now, I’m gonna see if I can talk to the mayor of the town, work some of my charm over on him. Silvie, you’re comin’ with me. I figure if we pose ourselves as, say, problem solvers, the mayor might just direct us to a problem we can solve. And if it’s easy money, well, we might just take it.”

“What do you want me to do, boss?” Roughshod asked, tossing his plate aside as well.

“You’re gonna stay here and see if you can get our guest to loosen her tongue a bit,” Tumbleweed told him. “Snapshot will also be here if you need him, and Miss Irons will, of course, keep you boys in line. But I think you can handle this yourself.”

The grin on Roughshod’s face almost made Kestrel feel sick. “Oh, I can do that,” he said, rubbing his hooves together. “I love makin’ ‘em squeal.”

“You will make sure he doesn’t get too ahead of himself, will you?” Kestrel asked Miss Irons, who was standing nearby.

The senior mare nodded. “I will keep our guest’s wellbeing in mind, assuming she cooperates with us.”

“Then we’re settled,” Tumbleweed said. “Pack up your things, ponies, it’s time we get movin’!”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

No poll for this chapter.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 14

The Gang made sure to stagger their entrance into Rock Ridge so as to not attract attention. With Silver and Tumbleweed entering together and Wanderer slower on his wings than Kestrel, Kestrel was the first to arrive in town, just as the stores began to open up. A few mares moved about in plain dresses, and wagon traffic was virtually nonexistent as she alighted in front of the sheriff’s office.

Once again, Kestrel found herself marveling at the size of the thing. After her run in with the Viper Gang yesterday, she started to realize why a town this small might have a sheriff’s office this big. There were certainly a lot of bandits lurking about the desert, and the Gang certainly wasn’t helping with that.

Sighing, Kestrel briefly removed her hat and tried to comb her mane back some. If she wanted to get anything out of the sheriff, then she needed to look presentable, like a bounty hunter and not a wanted criminal. Even though common sense told her that there was no way she’d be recognized down here, she was still a little bit leery as she walked up the steps to the door and knocked twice.

“It’s open,” came a voice from inside, and Kestrel pushed the door open. The interior of the office was well lit with large, barred windows to let in the daylight, and there were even enchanted lamps to provide an artificial light to the corners the sun couldn’t get to. Five jail cells lined one wall, and three desks were lined up on the other side. Right now, only one was in use, and Kestrel stopped and did a double take when she saw the creature sitting behind it, polishing his star with a silk cloth held in his talons.

The black-feathered griffon raised an eyebrow as he saw Kestrel standing in the doorway. “What’s the matter?” he asked her, taking his hind paws off the desk and leaning forward in his seat. “Ain’t you ever seen a griffon before?”

“I ain’t ever talked to one personally,” Kestrel admitted as she stepped inside.

The griffon grinned, the twist of his sharp beak setting off alarms in Kestrel’s subconscious. “Then consider this your lucky day. How can I help?”

Kestrel looked around but didn’t see anypony—or anygriffon—else. “You the sheriff ‘round these parts?”

“That I am.” The griffon held out his hand. “Garter. Come, I don’t bite unless I need to.”

Kestrel hesitated but ultimately stepped forward to shake the griffon’s hand. She could feel the sharp points of his talons poking at her skin, and she felt strangely relieved when he let go of her hoof. “I gotta wonder how a griffon ends up as the sheriff in a pony town.”

“I sometimes ask myself that,” Garter said. “I was put here a few years ago likely to suit somebody’s agenda, and I did a good job cleaning the place up, so I got to stay. You would not believe how sorry a state this town was in when I came here.”

“That so?” Kestrel leaned against a column, legs crossed a safe distance away from the griffon’s sharp beak and claws. “It seems plenty peaceful now. Can’t imagine what it were like then.”

Kestrel tries to get the sheriff to talk more about Rock Ridge’s past troubles: Success

“There used to be several gangs operating out here,” Garter said. “Four of them, at least. Some were big, some were small, but they all loved to prey on the wagons that stop by. Rock Ridge, well, she ain’t much, but she’s the halfway point between Angel City down by the coast and Reino a bit further inland. Lots of money flows from one way to the other. Miss Belle invested heavily around here to start getting a railroad built, and that meant even more money moving into the town. Plenty for the gangs to feed on.

“How’d you clean them out?” Kestrel asked.

“I set traps, tip offs to hauls almost too good to be true,” Garter said. His hawklike eyes seemed to sparkle with glee as he recounted the tale. “I made sure all the gangs knew about them. They started wiping each other out over a chest of gold I planted for them. Ten thousand bits’ worth is hard to get rid of, but Miss Belle was happy to make the sacrifice, and the government happier to help me pull it off, if it meant that we could clean this place up some.”

“I’m assumin’ it worked, then.”

“Just about. We only have one gang left to deal with, a bunch of lowlifes by the name of the Viper Gang.” Garter’s eyes narrowed. “There’s twenty, thirty, maybe forty of them holed up a bit to the south. They absorbed the remnants of the other gangs from all the fighting. I don’t have enough deputies to go and take them out, so I’m back to just trying to contain them and get the gold back. They attacked a wagon just yesterday that was moving some surplus cash from one of Miss Belle’s locations to another, cleaned the thing out. But it’s better than it has been.”

Kestrel silently thanked Celestia that the Vipers took the fall for that, and that Garter didn’t suspect anything. “Well, I hope you can get that under control. If I run into any Vipers, I’ll make sure to send ‘em straight to Tartarus.”

The sheriff suddenly narrowed his eyes at Kestrel, and the mare fidgeted as she felt him scrutinizing her.

The sheriff assesses whether he can trust Kestrel: Yes

After what felt like forever, however, he relaxed and smiled. “You look like you’re capable with a gun. Bounty hunter?”

“I’ve been known to do a few here and there,” Kestrel said with a shrug.

“Then I’ll tell you what. You kill a Viper, you bring me proof and I’ll pay you fifty bits as a thank you. Bring me one alive, and I’ll double it. Oh, would I love to get my claws on one alive.” Garter cracked his knuckles and let his talons flex in the air.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kestrel said.

Garter nodded, though he dismissively waved the topic away with his hand. “At any rate, I didn’t mean to bother you with history lessons. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, I was lookin’ for work, bounties or somethin’, but it seems you gave me some anyway.”

Garter pointed to a bulletin board on the far wall. “I post bounties on there from time to time. There’s one up for grabs right now, actually. Seventy-five bits to bring a stallion called Bloody Hatchet in, dead or alive. Take a look if it interests you.”

“I just might.” Kestrel stood up and tipped her hat toward the griffon. “Pleasure talkin’ with you, Garter.”

“And you as well, though I never caught your name.”

“Raptor,” Kestrel said, falling back on her oft-used false name. Even though she knew nobody around her would recognize her real name, it was better to not leave a trail the Pinks could follow later.

“Well, Raptor, take care. If you need anything more, I’ll be here. Oh, and, uh, welcome to Rock Ridge.”

Kestrel nodded one last time at him and set for the door, stopping just long enough to snatch the bounty off the wall. Stepping out into the sun, Kestrel rolled her shoulders and wondered just what else she would do in the four hours until lunch.

Investigate the post office. Might learn more at the post office. Bounties are nice, honest work, but they ain’t likely to pay nearly as much as robbin’ rich folks blind. All I gotta do is find some of them rich folks.

Wander the streets. Who knows what I’ll find just wanderin’ around town until lunch?

Go to the saloon early. Wanderer’s there havin’ all sorts of fun without me, might as well pay him a visit and wait for Tumbleweed and Silvie to finish their business.

Chase the bounty. Looks like this Hatchet feller ain’t too far from Rock Ridge. I should have enough time to fly out there, haul him back, and cash in before lunch.

(Confidence Required: 35 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18083104

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 15

Wander the streets: 37%

After a moment’s indecision, Kestrel shrugged her shoulders, lit a cigarette, and started walking down the main street, sticking to the shade of the buildings to get some reprieve from the hot desert sun. There wasn’t any sense in wasting time covering ground once covered. The saloon was in Wanderer’s hooves, and the post office had been nearly fruitless yesterday. Sometimes, the best way to learn something was to just wait and listen. Ponies coming across old friends in the middle of the street tended to forget all about anypony who might be listening from the shadows.

And so it was for nearly two hours. Kestrel slowly worked her way up and down main street, watching, listening, waiting. The streets slowly grew busier between breakfast and lunch, with ponies stopping to chat here and there. The general store proved to be a great spot to eavesdrop, as it had the most traffic. It certainly didn’t hurt that they had a box of sugar cubes for sale that she could munch on while she waited.

It wasn’t all that long before Kestrel spotted something unusual. While most of the wagon traffic coming through the town was mundane enough, loaded with crops or other raw goods, she soon noticed one that was different. And it was hard to not notice, painted purple and gold as it was, with window panels covered in moons and stars. A single blue unicorn pulled it down the road, looking almost like a filly when compared to the size of the thing, the sweat from a long day’s journey beading across her forehead and running down her neck. When she finally brought the wagon to a stop just outside the post office, she panted and slumped forward in her harness, letting the weight of the wagon anchor her in place so she could take some weight off of her hooves, before finally undoing the harness and disappearing inside the wagon through a door in the back.

Kestrel could only raise an eyebrow in curiosity and confusion. A single mare wandering across the desert with a wagon as conspicuous as that thing? How she hadn’t been robbed or killed yet was beyond astounding. The mare was young, though, so maybe she hadn’t been doing it for that long. Then again, the flaking paint and dust-streaked body of the wagon seemed to say otherwise.

The wagon didn’t move for the longest time, and there wasn’t any sign of the mare who had dragged it there in the first place. But she had placed it almost right in front of the post office, and it certainly turned the heads of passersby. Out of curiosity, Kestrel finally flicked the butt of a cigarette aside and decided to investigate the wagon. After all, she figured, if this mare was going to get herself robbed driving around the desert like that, then she might as well get robbed by somepony who wouldn’t rape and kill her for it.

A mare’s muffled mutterings barely slipped through the gaps in the planks as Kestrel approached. “No, no, this will not do,” the voice said. “The Great and Powerful Trixie should have gotten her cape cleaned at the river before coming down here! Now she’ll look like a simple fool in front of all these simpler fools!”

Kestrel’s brow lowered. Was there somepony else in that wagon? She’d only seen the mare pulling it, but there easily could have been somepony inside. Though she wasn’t sure how comfortable that would have been; the windows on the wagon weren’t open, and the air inside would have become hot and stuffy in no time at all. Shrugging, Kestrel stepped up to the door on the back and knocked a few times.

The muttering inside suddenly stopped. A few seconds later, he heard the same mare’s voice call out from behind the door. “Who dares disturb the Great and Powerful Trixie? The show isn’t for another half hour; she’s very busy getting ready!”

Kestrel blinked. “Great and powerful who?”

She heard a groan of exasperation. “Stupid townfolk,” the mare grumbled, and hoofsteps thudded on the wooden floor. The upper half of the split door flew open in a burst of pink magic, and Kestrel took a few steps back as the same blue mare from before glowered at her. “The Great and Powerful Trixie!” the mare reiterated. “I’m astounded you haven’t ever heard of me! Offended, really! And above all else, sorry for you that you could be so… so uncultured!”

“Uncultured?” Kestrel chuckled at that. “You know, you’re right ‘bout that one. I’m ‘bout as uncultured as they get.”

“I can see that,” the mare, Trixie, said with a frown.

“Least I don’t talk about myself in the third person.”

That only sharpened the frown on Trixie’s face. “Have you ever heard of a stage persona?” she asked, forelegs crossed over the lower half of the door. “Oh, what am I saying? Of course you haven’t. What are you, a rancher’s wife? You certainly look the part.”

Kestrel shrugged. “I ain’t been lucky enough to be somepony’s wife. No, ma’am, I’m just a simple traveler. Been all ‘round the southwest.”

That put a thoughtful look in Trixie’s eye. “A traveler? Do you know how to use a gun?”

That made Kestrel chuckle again. “Better than most by half.”

“Good! One moment. Perhaps you can be useful to Trixie.” The blue mare turned around, rummaging through the contents of her wagon, before she returned with a single bullet. “Take this,” she said, tossing it to Kestrel.

Kestrel caught it in her wing and frowned. It looked like a bullet, but the weight was off. It was lighter, if only barely so. “A bullet?”

“Not just a bullet, a stage bullet.” Trixie once more frowned and crossed her forelegs over the back of the door. “It’s a foam cast I enchanted to look like a real bullet. You are going to volunteer to shoot it at me when I ask for an audience member to test my reflexes during my show. The gunpowder is real, but the bullet will just disintegrate when you shoot it. I need you to show it to the crowd before putting it in your gun and firing it so they think it’s real.”

“…But it’s not.” Kestrel said, spinning it between her feathers.

“My, Trixie was wrong about you. You certainly are a fast one.” The exaggerated roll of her eyes was impossible to miss.

“So you’re some kinda magician, then?” Kestrel asked, trying to peer past Trixie and into her wagon.

Trixie scoffed. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is not a mere magician, she is the most powerful and greatest unicorn to ever live!”

“So why couldn’t you just catch a real bullet then?”

The mare shrank back an inch before puffing out her chest and running a hoof through her mane in an almost bored look. “Well, obviously I could, but it’s much more exhausting. And dangerous. Sometimes the ponies I recruit to help with these shows don’t shoot when they’re supposed to, and I don’t want a live bullet flying at me before I am ready. Besides, the audience will never know the difference!”

“And… just what’s in it for me?” Kestrel asked, tucking the bullet away.

“The honor and glory of helping the Great and Powerful Trixie perform a show!” Trixie proudly boasted. “Not many ponies can say they’ve ever had a hoof in making history!”

Kestrel simply blinked at Trixie and raised an eyebrow.

The blue unicorn sighed and slumped forward. “Fine, and a cut of the day’s profits. All you have to do is stand in the crowd and shoot the fake bullet at me. That will probably be the easiest job you will ever have in your boring life. So, can Trixie count on your assistance? Or will I have to find another pony willing to write their name in history?”

Agree to participate in the show. Don’t see no harm in playin’ this fool’s game. She may not be as ‘Great and Powerful’ as she claims if she needs my help, but bits are bits.

Refuse to participate in the show. This is foal’s nonsense. I’m supposed to be out here findin’ money for the Gang, not playin’ along with some self-obsessed looney.

Agree to participate but use a real bullet. If she’s so great and powerful, then surely she could catch real lead as easily as she can a fake? It’ll be more entertainin’ either way, that’s for sure.

Rob her. She might have somethin’ good in that wagon besides fake bullets, and she looks like she can hardly put up a fight, despite her claims to the contrary.

(Confidence Required: 35 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18099111

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 16

Agree to participate in the show: 61%

Gain progress toward the following Quirk: Showmare (1/4)

“Ah, Tartarus.” Kestrel mustered as much as a smile she could; after all, absurdities like this were hardly her usual affair. “Why not. I ain’t got anythin’ better to do ‘til lunch.”

“Excellent!” Trixie grinned, simultaneously relieved and haughty. “Go wait for Trixie to finish her preparations. Make sure you have a place at the front of the crowd so I can call you up easily. You are in for a treat, humble country bumpkin!”

Then the door slammed shut, and the wagon rocked slightly as Trixie moved around inside. Kestrel could only shake her head and wonder just what exactly she’d gotten herself into.

Something resembling a crowd, but in reality was merely a few curious onlookers, had formed in front of the wagon, squinting at the paint and decorations on the wood. There, Trixie had blazoned an eye-catching headline across the wood, painted in gold letters that would stand out under the sun: Come and see the GREAT and POWERFUL TRIXIE, the MOST POWERFUL unicorn to ever travel the land under Celestia’s blue skies! Be amazed, be stunned, be in AWE!

Kestrel just scoffed and wiped her nose with her feathers. What she’d seen of the mare inside the wagon certainly hadn’t left her amazed, stunned, or awestruck. Maybe amused and confused, but definitely not awestruck. She already had her doubts that this whole endeavor was going to pay much, if anything, judging by the small number of ponies who even seemed remotely interested in the strange wagon’s arrival.

Then something clicked, and Kestrel’s ears perked through her worn gambler hat. Tinny fanfare began to play through speakers built into the wagon, loud enough that the ponies of Rock Ridge collectively stopped what they were doing and turned their heads in its direction. It wasn’t long after that when Trixie’s voice cut into the music, loud, proud, and slightly distorted by the cheap speakers.

“Citizens of… uh… this town!” she proclaimed, and Kestrel could only sigh and cover her face with her feathers. “Come one, come all, and prepare to be AMAZED by what you are about to see. Never before in all of Equestria has anypony ever seen such feats of magic and skill as what you are about to see today! From death-defying stunts, to feats of magic that would make Star Swirl the Bearded blush, to ancient arts thought forgotten for millennia, you will see it all! And now, raise your hooves in applause for the one, the only, the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

An explosion of smoke caught Kestrel off guard, sending her staggering back and coughing as a cacophony of noise assaulted her swiftly-lowering ears. Fireworks exploded in a blast of color and sound, filling the air with the all-too familiar acrid stench of gunpowder. When the smoke cleared, a stage had suddenly sprang forth from the side of the wagon, and Trixie emerged from behind a purple curtain, wearing a stereotypical wizard’s hat and robe with stars and moons sewn into the fabric.

The sight made Kestrel reconsider some of her previous thoughts. Standing up there, surrounded by fanfare, smoke, and fireworks, Trixie certainly did seem great and powerful, like a spellslinger from the days before lead and gunpowder had replaced magic and horns, the days that only lived on in storybooks. It was almost enough to make her forget about the fake bullet tucked away in her pocket.

“Fillies and gentlecolts, mares and stallions, I hope you have come here to be amazed!” Trixie proclaimed, gesturing dramatically with a hoof. “Trixie knows that life out in the middle of nowhere can be hard and boring. Believe me, she understands. That’s why she has taken it upon myself to visit ever town in Equestria, no matter how small, so that you may all be fortunate enough to bear witness to the greatest unicorn who has ever lived!”

More fireworks went off as she raised her forelegs into the air—Kestrel wondered how much of her profits simply went to buying more for her shows. As they died down and fizzled out, Trixie struck another confident pose, the glow from her horn under her hat tugging on the collars of her robe. “Trixie has seen and done many impressive things, too many to count! She has been to the high, lofty spires of Canterlot, a she has plundered forgotten ruins far to the south in search of knowledge and power! She has battled ponies and monsters alike, far across the desert! From colossal dune adders to gangs of murderers, rapists, and thieves, no ne’er-do-wells have stood before the might of the Great and Powerful Trixie and lived to tell the tale!”

It was at this moment that her boasts finally drew skeptical rebuttal. “That’s ponyfeathers!” a stallion with a mangy beard exclaimed from the back. “You’s just another loudmouthed fraud! You ain’t done nothin’!”

A sly grin settled on Trixie’s muzzle; she must have been waiting for some kind of challenge. “Is that so?” she asked him, directing her full attention in his direction. “Would you perhaps like a demonstration of my powers?”

The stallion, taken aback by Trixie’s confident attitude, faltered slightly. “Well… yes, yes I would. Prove it to us all that you ain’t just tryin’ to play us all for fools!”

Kestrel scratched at the seat of her hat with a wingtip. No wonder Trixie needed somepony to play the fool for her so she could play the rest of the crowd as fools.

“Simple! I’ll have you know that I once single-hoofedly destroyed a gang of griffons near Reino. I snatched their bullets out of the air with just a thought! And I’ll prove it to you today—provided somepony is daring enough to stand upon my stage and try to shoot the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

A gasp went up from the crowd, and ponies murmured to each other in disbelief. By now, her antics had attracted a sizeable throng of ponies, and a few began to jostle to the front for the chance to shoot at the unicorn, either to test her skill or to hopefully put a bullet in her face and shut her up once and for all. Instead, Trixie’s eyes fell on Kestrel, and she smiled. “You! You look like a good shot! Think you can best the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

Kestrel quietly sighed and shrugged—she had never fancied herself as much of an actress. “I s’pose. You gotta be pretty fast to catch a bullet.”

“And Trixie is the fastest of them all! It will not be a challenge. Step on up, and show the world what you’ve got!”

A few ponies cheered as Kestrel made her way up to the stage, fluttering onto the wood. Trixie moved to the opposite end and raised her voice, gesturing to Kestrel as she pulled out her revolver. “Watch as this foolish mare attempts to shoot the Great and Powerful Trixie from not even fifteen feet away! For all other unicorns, the chances of survival would be next to none, but not for Trixie! I shall catch the bullet with a thought, and prove to you all that I am the greatest unicorn who has ever lived!”

She turned to Kestrel. “Please, show the crowd the bullet you are going to fire at Trixie. Let them see that it is not a blank, it is not a fake. It is as real as can be. Real lead will cross the stage, faster than the common eye can perceive, but I shall snatch it with pinpoint accuracy!”

Kestrel dug through the pocket of her duster and pulled out the fake bullet Trixie had given her, holding it up so that the gathered ponies could look at it. She saw concern write itself on the faces of a few ponies, but eager excitement seemed to take hold of many more. She didn’t know if those ponies were excited to see Trixie catch the bullet, or excited to see her shot in the face and die. She figured it was probably more of the latter.

Twirling the bullet between her feathers, Kestrel slid it into an open chamber in her revolver and snapped the cylinder closed. She lifted the weapon up and pointed it at Trixie’s face, the barrel staring down her confident expression. But Trixie knew nothing would go wrong, because it was the fake bullet that she had given her. A feather drew the hammer back, and she raised an eyebrow at the magician. “You ready?”

“You gave Trixie a warning. How kind. The bandits she vanquished certainly didn’t.” Her stance widened and that pink glow manifested from beneath the brim of her hat. “Whenever you please.”

Kestrel certainly didn’t want to partake in the farce any longer than she had to, so with nothing more than a shrug, she pulled the trigger. The weapon kicked back with the recoil she would expect from a real bullet, although the barrel spit out quite a few sparks and fire—more than she would have expected, but she supposed it was part of the stage magic. But judging by the way Trixie lurched backwards, angling away from the stage, Kestrel worried that she had actually shot the unicorn with live lead. She lowered her gun in surprise as Trixie staggered backwards—only to blink in confusion when Trixie proudly stepped forward once again, a spent bullet held in her magic.

She turned it to the crowd, who had fallen silent in suspense following the shot, but now cheered at the sight. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has done it again!” she proudly proclaimed, her magic lowering the bullet down to the audience so they could see it. “Witness! Real lead, fired from that mare’s gun, right there!”

She dropped it in a filly’s outstretched hoof and tousled her mane from afar, adding in a wink from the stage. “Keep it as a souvenir,” she said, grinning that haughty grin of hers. Then she removed her hat and let her horn flare up once more, floating it out in front of the crowd to collect coppers. “Fillies and gentlecolts, this has been just one performance of the Great and Powerful Trixie’s! For only a few bits from everypony, I will show you what I have in store next!”

Kestrel noted with some approval that after her stunt, Trixie’s hat seemed to be filling rather fast with the spare change of the town. However, that didn’t last too long before another shot rang out over Rock Ridge, and Trixie nearly dropped her hat in surprise. Kestrel’s head whipped around to the source of the gunfire, and she saw three burly stallions plodding their way toward the stage. The leader of the three, and also the shortest, had fire in his eyes as they settled on Trixie’s face. “You whore!”

Murmuring broke out through the crowd, and Kestrel looked to Trixie in confusion. Trixie’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks; it was obvious she recognized those three stallions from somewhere else. She had no words as they stomped onto the stage and the lead stallion grabbed her by her cloak, shoving Kestrel aside. “There you are, you fraud!” the stallion holding her shouted, his friends closing in on her from either side.

For what it was worth, Trixie managed to answer him in something resembling her usual bravado. “I would suggest that you release T-Trixie this instant before something bad happens.”

“This mare is a fraud and a liar!” the stallion exclaimed, throwing her onto the floor of her stage. As the crowd gasped and stepped back, the lead stallion pointed to her as she struggled to stand up. “She was at Balderdash not two weeks back, and she cleaned the place out! We found out she got some bumpkin to help her with her stunts; he was drinking away his cut at the saloon afterwards! Everything about this mare is a fake and a lie; you should run her out of town now, or better yet, just shoot her and put an end to it!”

The crowd was in full murmur now, and Kestrel didn’t know which way it was swinging: skepticism towards these sudden claims, or doubt about Trixie’s boasts. She could only raise an eyebrow at the mare lying helpless on the ground. “What did you do to them?” she asked her.

Trixie coughed and fought to raise her head a little bit. “Trixie… may have… made some bets… some expensive bets… which I insist I won, fair and square.”

“Shut up!” the stallion shouted, and Kestrel tensed when he drew a revolver. “I’m getting back what you stole from my Ma, or I’m putting a bullet in you!”

While Trixie blubbered out some excuse, Kestrel realized they weren’t looking at her.

Intervene and fight off the three stallions. Trixie’s an idiot and a fool, but she don’t deserve to be murdered like this. Frankly, nothin’ I hate worse than tough punks ridin’ hot in the saddle like these three.

Try to negotiate. Nopony needs to get hurt here, maybe I can get ‘em to talk it out. Better than startin’ a brawl in the middle of town.

Leave them be. This ain’t my argument; Trixie shoulda been expectin’ somethin’ like this would come back and bite her behind sooner or later. I don’t need to get involved.

Rob her wagon while the commotion is going on. If there was ever a distraction to slip into that wagon and take my choice of goods, it’d be now. Fool like her probably has somethin’ valuable back there, I just need to find it before these idiots get to it.

(Confidence Required: 35 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18112362

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 17

Intervene and fight off the three stallions: 46%

Kestrel’s nostrils flared as she frowned at the three stallions threatening Trixie. The unicorn may have been an idiot and a fraud, but she didn’t deserve to die for her stupidity. Well, maybe she did, but Kestrel was at least going to get paid first. And that wouldn’t happen if those three idiots killed her and made out with everything she had.

The hammers on her two revolvers clicked as Kestrel drew them back. The three stallions stopped what they were doing and turned back to Kestrel, surprise in their eyes as they stared down two powder-stained barrels pointed their way. “Let the little lady go,” Kestrel warned them. “I ain’t got no fancy magic, but I got lots of lead. Life’s full of unfortunate circumstances, friends, and sometimes we make bets we really shouldn’t. You made your bets with Trixie and lost. Now’s not a good time to make another.”

The stallions looked between each other, then glowered at Kestrel. “One against three? You must be mad, little gunslinger,” their leader taunted. “Put those away before you hurt yourself.”

He started to turn his own revolver toward her, but Kestrel fired a bullet at his hooves, making him jump back and the crowd gasp. “You point that thing in my direction, and you’re dead, mister,” she warned him, drawing the hammer back again.

“You wouldn’t shoot me in front of all these ponies,” the stallion growled.

“They know who started it,” Kestrel countered. “And I bet that gunshot’s bringin’ out the sheriff right now.”

Is Kestrel able to get the three stallions to back down? Yes

Kestrel could tell that she’d infuriated the stallion by refusing to back down to him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to test her. She knew she’d hurt his ego by proving herself tougher than him, but she also knew that he was afraid she’d hurt more than just his ego if he didn’t yield. Instead, he holstered his gun with a growl and spat at Trixie. “We’ll be back for you, bitch,” he growled at the magician. Then he brushed past Kestrel, jamming his shoulder into hers for one last parting shot. “Don’t think we’re gonna forget this.”

“I sorely hope you don’t,” Kestrel retorted. “It’s hard enough to teach old dogs new tricks, let alone vermin.”

The two parties glared at each other for a few seconds more before the ruddy stallion finally led his compatriots away. Kestrel watched them go until she was certain they were actually leaving, then un-cocked the hammers of her revolvers and slid them back into their holsters. She glanced over at Trixie, who was still lying on her side, and offered her a wing. “I don’t suppose this is a regular thing?”

“Of course not,” Trixie muttered, shooing away Kestrel’s wing and standing up on her own. She turned her focus back to the murmuring crowd and bowed. “And look at that, fillies and gentlecolts! That is how one deals with common lowlifes who think they can threaten the Great and Powerful Trixie! By being so Great and Powerful that ponies will bend over backwards to be on her good side! Let’s have a round of applause for this mare!”

She vigorously clopped her hooves together, eventually rousing something resembling confused applause from the crowd. Kestrel rolled her eyes but tipped her hat to them nonetheless. What a story she would have to tell the others later.

“Now, Trixie is going to have to call today’s show early, thanks to that rude interruption. She needs a moment to relax, and maybe a stiff drink. But she thanks you all for being a wonderful audience, and she hopes to see you at some of her future shows! She’ll be here all week… assuming there are no more incidents like this one today!” She snatched up her hat from the crowd, mildly heavy with bits, and pulled it back into the wagon as she stepped backwards through the curtain. “Good day!”

And then she disappeared behind the fabric, leaving Kestrel to stand awkwardly on the stage. The crowd began to disperse, muttering their thoughts to each other as they left to return to their lives. Kestrel saw black feathers slip back into the sheriff’s office, and she said a quiet thanks to Celestia that the stallions hadn’t started something that would put her in even closer contact with the law. Garter didn’t know who she was, but the longer she stayed on his radar, the more likely it was that the truth would come out one way or another.

Still, there was the matter of pay to attend to, so Kestrel shortly followed Trixie back behind the curtain and into the wagon. She was surprised at how spacious the interior of the thing was, at least compared to the outside. Trixie had arranged all her props and tools very neatly inside of the thing to keep as much floor space clear as possible, and she could see a hammock folded in the corner; it was likely much easier to stow and use than a bedroll of any kind, and more comfortable too. Trixie herself stood off to the side in front of a vanity mirror, trying to straighten out her appearance after the roughening up the three stallions did to it.

Trixie glanced sideways at her as Kestrel leaned against the wall. “Trixie thanks you for your assistance,” she said. “Sometimes there are… unsavory characters that frequent her shows.”

“I hope that’s not a frequent occurrence,” Kestrel said with a shake of her head. “You ain’t gonna last that much longer if it is.”

“Trixie does what she has to to get by,” the magician said. “Sometimes that means playing fools for what they are.”

“And am I a fool for helpin’ you?” Kestrel raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not! I say you’re the smartest mare Trixie has had the honor of encountering for a long time. Standing up for Trixie is a very good thing.”

“Then I expect you’re not gonna fool me out of my share of the bits,” Kestrel said.

Trixie floated over her hat and lifted a cluster of bits out of it. “As promised,” she said, dropping them in Kestrel’s outstretched wing.

Kestrel looked them over and frowned. “Ten bits?”

“A fair share,” Trixie asserted. “I was the one doing all the hard work.”

Kestrel glowered at her. “And who woulda bailed you out if I weren’t up there?”

“Oh, fine. You give a mare a gun and suddenly she thinks she’s royalty,” Trixie muttered, dropping more in Kestrel’s wing. “There, thirty. That’s practically half of what Trixie made today, so I hope you’re not asking for anything more!”

Sighing, Kestrel tucked the thirty bits away. It was practically a pittance for the gang, little more than spending money. Sixty bits a show for Trixie, however, was probably pretty good when it didn’t have to be split up too many ways.

Trixie ran a comb through her mane, putting the stray hairs back together in their proper curl. “I suppose I do owe you a little something more than money,” Trixie said. “Perhaps a drink would be welcome? I certainly am not paying you anything more, before you ask.”

Get a drink with Trixie. At least I’ll get somethin’ worth my while after all of this. Whiskey’s as sure as anythin’ else a good way of sayin’ ‘Thank you’.

Leave. I got better things to do with my time than hangin’ around with this fraud, like catchin’ ringworm or somethin’.

Rob her. We’re all alone now in this wagon, and if she weren’t great and powerful enough to do anythin’ to those three stallions threatenin’ her back there, she sure as Tartarus ain’t gonna do nothin’ to stop me now.

Make a Pass. Jackass she may be, but she ain’t too bad on the eyes. I could certainly think of a thing or two that might help cover the measly sum I got from all this shit.

(Confidence Required: 35 Votes)

Author's Note

To be honest, I wasn't expecting Lady Luck to just avoid the fight entirely. She usually loves screwing with Kestrel and making her fail all her checks.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18120451

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 18

Get a drink with Trixie: 35%

“You owe me a drink at the very least,” Kestrel said, fluffing out her feathers. “I did save your life after all.”

“A fair enough proposition,” Trixie agreed. She removed her magician’s outfit and hung the articles on pegs, then brushed some of the sand and dust out of her coat that she’d picked up when the stallions knocked her over. “Trixie needs a drink herself anyway, after all of this…”

Kestrel waited outside the wagon for Trixie to finish things up. She raised her eyebrow as the magician folded the wooden stage in on itself and neatly tucked it flush with the wall of the wagon; the mare truly had mastered the art of bringing everything she needed with her in that one wagon. Her horn flashed a few more times, and Kestrel saw the afterimage of ghostly chains settle around the wagon’s door and side before they disappeared entirely. Satisfied, Trixie turned around and began to confidently strut up to the saloon. “Come along, the desert sun is practically burning my poor coat.”

“You should wear a duster, then,” Kestrel suggested, following her to the door.

Trixie scoffed in incredulity. “More clothes? The heat would surely kill Trixie then!”

“The heat ain’t what gets you, it’s the sun.” Kestrel pushed open the door with a wing and led the way inside. “Keep it off your back and you don’t feel it near as much as you’d think.”

Despite all the commotion outside minutes before, the saloon seemed unchanged. Kestrel always thought saloons were an interesting oddity of the southwest. No matter what may be happening in town, the saloon was always the same. It had the same patrons, plus or minus a few travelers, the same music, the same drinks. The only thing that changed was the gossip. When it came to getting news in towns like Rock Ridge, there were two sure places to get it: the newspaper and the bartender. The newspaper didn’t serve you shots of whiskey, though.

The two mares soon found an open spot at the bar, and Trixie dropped a pair of bits on the wood. “Two shots of whiskey,” she said, sliding the coins toward the bartender. After a second, she put a third coin on the counter. “Make that three, actually. Trixie needs two shots herself after all this nonsense.”

The coins disappeared, replaced by alcohol a few seconds later. Trixie immediately took her first shot and downed it, grimacing at the fiery drink running down her throat. Coughing once, she shook her head and frowned at the second shot sitting in front of her. “That… is strong.”

Kestrel managed a little chuckle as she took her own shot. “You don’t drink much whiskey, do you?”

“Trixie prefers gin and tonic,” the blue mare said, gingerly lifting the second shot in her magic. “Whiskey is usually… too strong for her.”

“Why’d you get it, then?” Three bits clattered to the counter as kestrel flagged down the bartender for a tumbler of whiskey she could sip on instead of just more shots.

Trixie eyed the glass of whiskey Kestrel wrapped her feathers around as she brought it to her lips. “…Trixie thought it would do her some good to try new things.”

Kestrel rolled her eyes as she set the glass down on the counter. “You don’t have to try and keep up with me. Celestia knows that’s a tough order.”

Trixie frowned and quickly downed the second shot, trying very hard to keep herself from coughing afterwards. “No order is too tough for the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

“That’s your funeral, then.”

Hoofsteps approached from behind, but Kestrel was familiar enough with their cadence to know who it was without looking. “Tell me you found more than empty bottles here, Wanderer.”

The elderly pegasus leaned against the bar to Kestrel’s right, his wing sliding a half-finished bottle of whiskey onto the counter. “I’ve certainly been busy,” he said, his words surprisingly crisp and clear despite what the bottle in his grip would otherwise indicate. “I’ve been treating a few new friends at the poker table to free drinks. It’s great for loosening up their tongues some. How’d you make out?”

“Went and saw the sheriff. Did you know he’s a griffon?”

Wanderer shook his head. “Didn’t know much of anything about this town until today. That’s surprising; folk in the southwest usually aren’t that kind to creatures who aren’t ponies.”

“He’s apparently done a good job cleaning the place up; there used to be more than Vipers out here before he came to town.”

“Well let’s hope he isn’t too good at his job.” Wanderer’s teeth flashed in a smile, though it faltered momentarily when his eyes settled on Trixie. “Who’s this? A new friend of yours?”

Trixie proudly puffed out her chest. “You are speaking to none other than the Great and Powerful Trixie, the most powerful unicorn to ever live!”

Wanderer cocked his head at her. “Weren’t you a street performer back in Reino a few years back, doing card tricks for bits?”

The blue unicorn’s face immediately flushed red and she pointedly looked down at her empty shot glass. “Even the greatest unicorn to have ever lived has to start somewhere…”

“She needed my, uh, assistance with the show of hers,” Kestrel said. “Good thing I was there, too. A few doting fans got a little too pushy up there.”

Wanderer chuckled. “I figured if anypony out here was going to be firing their gun off, it was you,” he said. “When nopony shot back, I figured you were alright.”

“Glad to know you care so much about me.”

Trixie suddenly frowned at the two pegasi. “I don’t believe I got your names,” Trixie stated. “Who are you two? You obviously know each other.” Her eyes flicked to Kestrel. “Is he your father?”

Wanderer burst out laughing, a wheezy, airy noise. “I’m old enough to be her grandfather,” he said. “But there’s no relation. We’re a… traveling troupe of do-gooders, venturing all across Equestria and righting wrongs wherever we happen to encounter them.”

“Don’t get any fancy ideas,” Kestrel warned her. “It ain’t as glamorous as it sounds.”

But there was no mistaking the whirring of the gears in Trixie’s mind. “A troupe, you say? Perhaps Trixie is willing to grace your company with her presence. At the very least, having somepony to travel with would make the long roads between towns safer—I-I mean, more entertaining. They are already as safe as can be for a mare as powerful as Trixie.”

“I’m sure,” Wanderer said, an easy, flattering smile on his muzzle. “Perhaps our little company would be even safer with you there to protect us. We’re certainly lacking great and powerful unicorns, as of late.”

Kestrel shook her head and stifled a chuckle; Trixie was too dense to realize Wanderer was making fun of her.

Wanderer’s eyes lifted from the blue mare to the entrance of the saloon, and he waved a wing. “There’s the boss and Silvie,” he said to Kestrel. “Looks like they made it out of the mayor’s place in one piece.”

“That’s good,” Kestrel said, leaning away from the bar. “Means they really don’t know who we are.”

That earned a funny look from Trixie, but the two pegasi disregarded her as Tumbleweed and Silver approached. “Well, pleasure to see you two again,” Tumbleweed greeted, his magic tugging on his suspenders. “I hope you two made out as well as dear Silvie and I did.”

“You found something, then?” Kestrel asked.

“Oh, the Mayor was quite chatty,” Tumbleweed assured her. “We had plenty to talk about. Let’s find a nice quiet place, we can discuss it further.”

Then his eyes fell on Trixie, who continued to watch them with a strange look. “You, uh, got a friend, Kessie?” he asked Kestrel. “I ain’t had the pleasure yet, I’m afraid.”

“Whatever it is you four are up to, Trixie wants to be a part of it,” Trixie said. A sly grin settled on her muzzle. “It certainly has to be better than pulling a wagon across Equestria and parading around for a few bits here and there.”

“I wouldn’t get ahead of yourself, little missy,” Tumbleweed cautioned. “You have no idea what you’re talkin' about.”

“I think I do,” Trixie said. Something bothered Kestrel about the look in her eyes. “Trixie thinks it’ll be better for everypony if she gets to help. Whatever it is you’re doing, it will certainly beat the solo act.”

Kestrel felt Tumbleweed’s eyes on her before she saw it. He knew what he was asking with that simple look:

Do you trust her?

Tell Trixie to scram. I barely known her for a few hours; that ain’t long enough to get a good sense of her trustworthiness. We can’t take that risk.

Tell Trixie she can join and deal with her. If this mare knows who we are, she’s too dangerous to keep around. Best to take her someplace far away and deal with her… permanently.

Let her come along. She looks like she’s already guessed who we are; letting her go at this point would be a mistake. Besides, the Gang’s always got more room for charlatans and swindlers. Easiest way to make pocket change for supplies. [TRIXIE joins the Gang]

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18131168

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 19

Let her come along: 78%

Kestrel sighed and finished off the last of her whiskey in several gulps. She knew she was making a mistake, but she didn’t exactly have much of a choice at this point. Besides, the mare could be useful in her own right. She just hoped her foolishness wouldn’t bring the Gang down from within.

“Well, way I see it, you’re resourceful enough to not somehow be dead even though you’re wanderin’ San Palomino all by yourself, and you’ve got a mouth that spits tales faster than even Wanderer here,” Kestrel said, looking Trixie over. “Only question I’ve got now is the matter of loyalty.”

Trixie blinked. “So you’re saying that Trixie may join you?”

“Now, we ain’t sayin’ nothin’, not yet,” Tumbleweed said, making his presence felt at Trixie’s side. “Soon as we figure we can trust you, then we’ll make that decision.”

“Trixie is as trustworthy a mare as there has ever been!” Trixie proclaimed. “I am excellent at keeping secrets. Haven’t you ever heard of the magician’s code?”

“Keeping stage secrets to yourself and our secrets are two matters entirely,” Wanderer said. “Ponies will die if you talk. And you’ll be the first among them.”

The sudden shift in the attitude of the conversation seemed to unsettle Trixie. But whether she was brave or just plain stupid, she refused to back down. “Something tells Trixie that there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“I’m glad you figured that out,” Tumbleweed said with a wink. Then he turned his eyes to Kestrel. “Let’s go talk about what we found out back. Fewer ears there.”

Kestrel and Wanderer leaned away from the bar, and Trixie started to follow them as well, only to be fixed with a pointed look from Tumbleweed. “You’re gonna stay in here and wait for us to return,” he said. “Just because we’re gonna take you along don’t mean that you need to hear what we’re talkin’ about.”

“How is Trixie supposed to know what she’s to do if she can’t hear what this is about?” Trixie asked.

Tumbleweed smirked at her. “That didn’t stop you from decidin’ you wanted in in the first place. We’ll come get you when we’re done. If you ain’t here, well, then I guess we’ll have to find you and settle matters on our own terms.”

Despite the veiled threat, Trixie merely puffed out her chest. “Trixie will be waiting right here for your return.”

“We shall see.” He turned away and walked out the door, the rest of the Gang following along behind.

Trixie Lulamoon has joined the Gang

Only when they were in the shadow of the saloon’s back did Tumbleweed take Kestrel aside. The look in his eyes and the way his magic yanked on her collar was all the warning she had that he was about to get unpleasant. “I wish you had come to talk to me about this before we start lettin’ random stage ponies into our crew,” he growled at Kestrel.

“She’s an idiot, full of herself and about as smart as a sack of bricks,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “Fool like her will do us good. You can get somepony to split the whole song and dance with you whenever you need to talk ‘em over.”

“Fools and idiots are not what we need right now,” Tumbleweed warned.

“Why we keep Roughshod around then? He’s the biggest one there is.”

Tumbleweed sighed and rubbed his temple. “If you think she’s worth it, then I will try to avoid doubting you. But if she squeals, that could be the end of us. I hope you know it.”

“I do.” Kestrel knew she was sticking her neck out on the line here, but she wasn’t one to back down once a decision had been made. “We got enough shooters, we need more talkers in our gang. She’s quite a talker.”

“As I can imagine.”

In the silence that followed, Wanderer stepped between them. “We can worry about that Trixie mare later. Right now, we need to figure out what we’re going to do next. Now, I worked over a couple of interesting characters at the saloon. Most of them were the usual townsfolk, but there was an interesting feller who stopped by for a few rounds and a few free drinks.”

“Interestin’ in what way?” Tumbleweed asked. His face was the definition of focused, and Kestrel knew he was prepared to scrutinize whatever lead Wanderer had turned up. The Gang needed money, and he wasn’t going to let a good opportunity pass by.

“An army contractor,” Wanderer said. “I was as surprised as you would imagine at seeing a military pony here in Rock Ridge, especially given our delicate relationship with the government. But he let slip that there’s a train going to the San Palomino army depot, and it’ll be passing through Rock Ridge on the way there.”

Kestrel frowned and scratched her chin with a wingtip. “Robbin’ from the Army ain’t gonna be easy.”

“Only if they have enough soldiers to protect the train,” Wanderer said. “You remember how we even got out of the dunes and desert to end up here, right?”

Shivers ran up and down Kestrel’s spine. Crossing the San Palomino had been a nightmare of sand and heat, and nopony knew if they were going to make it. It was only the discovery of a lonely set of railroad tracks running across the bone-dry ground that led them back to civilization and salvation.

Tumbleweed slowly nodded. “There wouldn’t be anypony watchin’ the middle of the desert,” he said. “Trains are too infrequent for bandits to sit around waitin’ for ‘em.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Wanderer said. “We stop the train in the desert, hit it hard, clean it out. There’s bound to be soldier payroll on it, and who knows what kind of gear we can find for ourselves.”

It was a tempting prize; that was putting it mildly. The last time the Gang had hit a train, they’d seized government funding bound for Appleloosa and had lived like kings and queens for months. It was the last good haul they’d managed, and as far as Kestrel was concerned, it was the gold standard for robberies. If they could recreate even a fraction of that success…

Tumbleweed nodded slowly. “I like it,” he finally said, a smile spreading across his muzzle. “We need money, and a lightly guarded train is perfect for that.” His focus shifted to Kestrel. “What did you turn up at the sheriff’s office?”

“Not a whole lot,” Kestrel admitted. “But he don’t know who we are, and I didn’t see no posters, so we’re in the clear for now. He did say that things used to be a lot worse ‘round here til he got the other gangs to kill each other over a pile of gold. The Viper Gang’s now sittin’ on that gold; guess that’ was what Silvie and me saw yesterday.”

Silver nodded her head, eyes twinkling at the sight of all that money. Tumbleweed scratched his chin and thought. “He say how much gold?”

“Ten thousand bits,” Kestrel said. “But he said there’s forty of ‘em or so. Certainly seemed like it when we were there yesterday.”

“We’ll have to think of somethin’ good to get that gold out, then” Tumbleweed said. “That’s a lot of money just to lie sittin’ in some other ponies’ pockets.”

Kestrel nodded her agreement. “He also said he’d pay bounties on them Vipers. A lot of work for not all that much, only fifty bits a head, but he said he’d double it if we give him a live one.”

Silver looked between Kestrel and Tumbleweed. “Like Sienna?”

“Guess we can get some money for the rat if she don’t cooperate,” Tumbleweed said. “I wonder what Roughshod’s got outta her.”

“Probably most of her teeth, if I were to guess,” Kestrel said, shrugging her wings. “Poor filly might want us to turn her over to the sheriff by the time we get back to her.”

“I’d be happy to oblige,” Tumbleweed said. His magic dug through his pockets and eventually pulled out a piece of paper. “The mayor was mighty chatty with Silvie and me. Also mighty flush with cash, and no morals whatsoever. You’d have to go to Canterlot itself to find a pony with their head as far up as their ass as him.”

“I take it he’s the kind of pony who doesn’t care who does his dirty work, so long as it can’t be traced back to him,” Wanderer said.

Tumblweed nodded. “The pony has his eyes set on becoming governor of San Palomino, which is quite a large step up from mayor of Rock Ridge. However, there’s a journalist investigating tall tales of our charitable mayor’s less-than legal business practices. He don’t want him killed, but if he were to, say, change his tune, we would be rewarded handsomely.”

“How much is ‘handsomely?’” Kestrel asked.

“A thousand bits,” Tumbleweed said. “It’s easy work for easy pay, though from how it sounds, you two found more promising, if more dangerous leads.”

“We’ll need to figure out what we’re going to do,” Wanderer said. “Better to get a head start on the planning.”

Kestrel nodded in agreement; it was just a matter of figuring out which lead to pursue.

Do the Mayor’s dirty work. Simple work for simple pay, enough to last us a little bit. Ain’t gonna expect too much from it, and we still gotta stay roughly within the lines of the law, else we ain’t gettin’ paid. [LOW RISK, LOW REWARD]

Get the gold from the Viper Gang. Ten thousand bits is a lotta money to just leave sittin’ around. We get that, we’re set for months. Only problem’s gonna be getting’ past forty somethin’ ponies with just a hoofful of guns. [HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]

Rob the army train. We don’t got a good idea of what’s on that train, only it’s gonna be good. Soldier payroll could be a lot of money, and on top of that, we can take all the guns and gear we want. No real word on what kind of opposition we might come across, save from the soldiers guarding the train itself. [RISK UNKNOWN, REWARD UNKNOWN]

These leads are too dangerous. Surely there’s gotta be somethin’ better, easier we can tackle, right? [GANG MORALE -1]

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

With the addition of Trixie to the Gang, I have decided to make the stats of all Gang members available for you to look at. It should help you all get a sense of what the Gang is capable of when deciding what to pursue in terms of leads.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18142856

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 20

Rob the army train: 48%

Gain progress toward the following Quirk: Daring (2/4)

“I think we should look into this train thing,” Kestrel said, scratching an ear with her wingtip. “We can’t sit around makin’ nothin’ but pocket change forever. We’re on borrowed time.”

“The government ain’t gonna be too happy with us if we take down one of their trains,” Silvie said. “Wouldn’t that draw a whole lotta attention?”

“Only if they can trace it back to us,” Tumbleweed assured her. He turned to Wanderer and nodded. “The train’s our best bet. Let’s focus our efforts on it.”

Wanderer nodded. “I’ll do some more snooping around, see if I can find out more information about what we’re going to be up against. I wouldn’t hold my breath on it if I were you, though. If I start asking too many questions, ponies are going to get suspicious.”

“Do you at least know when and where?” Kestrel asked him.

“My drinking friend said it would pass through Rock Ridge by two in the afternoon tomorrow,” Wanderer said. “We follow the rail lines up north a bit and set up an ambush, we should be able to stop it entirely.”

“Our new friend might be able to help with that,” Kestrel suggested. “She’s got enough gunpowder packed into that wagon to level the sheriff’s office.”

“Let’s hope we won’t need to do that after we blow the rail lines, then,” Tumbleweed said. “Guess it was mighty fortunate you crossed paths with her today.”

“Guess so.”

Silver frowned and looked off to the north. “If we’re gonna blow the rails tomorrow, we gotta find a good place to do it. We should take a look, find someplace they won’t see us comin’.”

Tumbleweed grinned and patted Silver on the back. “I’m glad you’re learnin’, Silvie. Keep this up and you’ll have a gang of your own, one day.” The praise made Silver blush, and Tumbleweed nodded along as he thought to himself. “How’s about you and Kessie go and take a look for us, as you’re the two birds here. I’ll handle this Trixie mare, get her onboard cleanly and safely. We can’t know if we can trust her ‘til she breaks the law with the rest of us.”

“Sounds good to me,” Kestrel said. “See you stallions back at camp.”

She spread her wings and took to the skies, Silvie at her side, while Tumbleweed and Wanderer made their way back into the saloon. The thermals rising from the desert sands let them climb to altitude without much difficulty, and soon the two mares were flying north, keeping the two gleaming lines of steel running across the desert to their left.

It would be a long flight to find a secluded spot to safely stop the train, Kestrel knew, so she drifted back a little bit to let Silvie fly by her side. “You been awfully quiet today,” she noted, the accusation surprising the younger mare. “What got your tongue?”

Was Silver able to get a good read of the Mayor during their conversation? Yes

“The Mayor…” Silver said. “Somethin’ rubbed me the wrong way while we was talkin’ to him. Not sure if Tumbleweed felt it too; I don’t think he did. It’s like… he knew we weren’t upstandin’ citizens and the like.”

Kestrel chuckled. “That ain’t too hard to pick out just from the looks of us. Most ponies don’t carry two revolvers unless they get up to some serious shootin’. The Law only cares when they know for a fact you done somethin’ wrong; they’re too tied up in rules and regulations to arrest us otherwise. Praise Celestia for makin’ a land of freedom and all that.”

“It weren’t that,” Silver protested. “It’s just… he looked at me, and I felt like he could see right through me. Like he knew who I was and all, but he didn’t say nothin’. He seemed much more interested in gettin’ us to do what he wanted than figurin’ out who we was.”

They flew in silent thought for a few moments. The news bothered Kestrel; she knew Silvie’s instincts were practically second to none, and if something bothered the young mare, then it was worth taking into consideration. “Well, ain’t nothin’ we can do ‘bout it now,” Kestrel said, shrugging her shoulders mid-flight. “Bring it up to Tumbleweed when we get back to camp. It’s worth talkin’ about. For now, though, I think we’s just about here.”

Silver nodded and drifted back from Kestrel a little bit, her eyes surveying the ground below them. Kestrel slowed down and did the same. They were far enough from Rock Ridge that it was barely a brown smear against the pale yellow horizon, and there were no roads or buildings in sight. Below them, the rail line seemed to stretch on forever to the north and south, though Kestrel immediately spotted several good places to set up an ambush.

“What do you make of it?” Silver asked her, rejoining her at her side. “We’re so far from civilization that I don’t think it matters where we blow the rails.”

“Oh, it matters alright,” Kestrel reprimanded her. “Way I see it, we got three places to set a trap.”

“We do?” Silvie asked, cocking her head to the side.

Kestrel nodded and pointed down to the earth. “See, we could just set the charges in the open, blow the rails and hide behind some of them boulders by the tracks. But see that bridge over the gorge up ahead? We blow the bridge, the train goes plummetin’ down to the ground below. Ain’t many guards on it gonna survive that, ‘part from their pegasi, I reckon’.”

Then she pointed further up the tracks. “And up there, the rails go through that narrow canyon. We stop the train there and get the Gang up on the rocks, it’ll be shootin’ fish in a barrel. Might even get ‘em to surrender. Course, gettin’ all the goods outta the canyon’s gonna be difficult.”

Silver chewed on her lip in thought. “I only joined you guys on the last train job on a stupid whim. I ain’t got no idea what’s best here.”

“Good thing you’re flyin’ with somepony experienced, then,” Kestrel said, winking at her. “Now, let’s see…”

Set the charges in the open. Not a whole lotta cover and it’ll be difficult to control a fight, but it’ll be easy to get the haul outta the train and back to camp if we bring a wagon or two. The faster we can hit the train and leave, the less chance of gettin’ caught.

Blow the bridge. We take down the bridge, we take down the soldiers with it. We’ll have fewer to fight, but there’s the risk that the haul could get damaged when the train falls a hundred feet to the gorge below. It’ll also be hard to get the haul out fast if we have to bring the wagons down there or fly things up to the top one by one.

Set the charges in the canyon. We box ‘em in, we stop ‘em from runnin’, and with the high ground, they ain’t gonna be able to put up much of a fight. We might get ‘em to surrender, but it’s gonna be nearly impossible to get the haul outta that canyon in any hurry, it’s so narrow.

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18149427

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 21

Set the charges in the canyon: 49%

There really was only one place where they could pull off the train heist, Kestrel concluded. The canyon was their best bet. Blowing the rails in the open would simply get them overwhelmed and killed, and if the train was carrying explosives of any kind, then blowing the bridge might destroy everything inside when it fell into the gorge. If they stopped it in the canyon, however, they could at least use the terrain to their advantage, even if it meant difficulty in getting the haul out of the canyon and back to camp.

“Let’s go take a gander at the canyon,” Kestrel said, flying forward. “Pretty much the only place we can set the charges and walk outta this one alive and rich. Question is, where’s the best spot?”

The two mares held their wings out straight as they glided down to the rocky canyon on the other side of the bridge. Only when they were close enough did they begin to flap them again, circling wide over the cleft in the rock. The canyon was only a couple of miles long, more a gash in a mesa than anything, and relatively straight. The canyon walls steeply sloped upwards, making it difficult for ponies to climb up or down it on hoof, and their bases hugged the rail tracks laid through them so tightly Kestrel was surprised trains could even fit through it. There would definitely be no room to bring the wagons down into the canyon, and the narrow ground meant that the train would likely slow down as it entered in case of rockslides.

“Think it matters where we put the charges?” Silvie asked, flying up to Kestrel’s side once more.

“Probably better closer to the bridge than at the other end,” Kestrel concluded. “Be easier to get things loaded into wagons near the exit instead of haulin’ it all the way from one end to the other.”

She flew down into the canyon just to make sure. The walls rose so steeply above her that she felt boxed in, despite the open sky directly overhead. Her hooves clacked against the rails as she alighted, and when she looked down the tracks, the gentle curve to the left only let her see about halfway through the canyon before they curved out of sight.

Silver landed next to her, and Kestrel pointed to a spot by the rails where the ground fell away some. “We can probably get the charges buried there,” she said. “Might take a little diggin’, so we’ll need to get here and get set up early tomorrow. So long as the engineer can’t see anything amiss from the engine, we’ll be fine.”

“Are we gonna blow the charges under the engine or what?” Silver asked.

Kestrel merely shrugged. “That’ll be for Boss to figure out. We don’t want to blow up a powder car by accident, but if they see that the rails is ruined before they even get to ‘em, they might throw her in reverse and get outta here.”

“I s’pose.” Silver looked around and shuffled her feathers. “At least from up top we’ll be able to keep control of the fight, but I don’t know what our ground-bound companions plan on doin’.”

“They’ll figure it.” Kestrel began to flap her wings and rise out of the canyon. “C’mon, let’s get back to camp before a train comes through and squishes us flat.”

And then they were up and off through the air, their eyes trained eastward and settling on the red mesa that concealed their camp. The flight took them a little more than an hour, though they weren’t in a hurry. They had nothing left to do for the day, and they didn’t want their wings to be sore come tomorrow. They would need all their energy for taking down the army train, and Kestrel had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t going to be as simple as they all hoped.

They were the first of the crew that had gone to Rock Ridge to make it back to camp. Things were quiet, though Snapshot perched on the rocks above the camp at least signified nothing strange had happened while they were gone. The stallion simply nodded to Kestrel and Silvie as they descended onto the platform at the edge of camp the pegasi liked to take off from, and Kestrel shook her head. For a stallion as twitchy as Snapshot could be, he never seemed to need sleep and could be incredibly patient when he had a job to do.

The smell of lunch cooking over the fire made Kestrel’s mouth water; she’d missed the chance to get something to eat back in Rock Ridge with the excitement surrounding Trixie’s show and then flying off to scout the rail lines. Silver couldn’t help herself as she immediately galloped into camp, grabbing first a drink of water from the bucket and then snatching a tin bowl in her teeth to grab some stew. Miss Irons looked up from the deck of a nearby wagon as Silver bounded over to the fire, and her features resumed the hardened, resting frown she always seemed to wear when in the presence of other ponies. “You’re back already?” she questioned Silver, her magic setting aside the blanket she’d been knitting. “Where’s Tumbleweed and Wanderer?”

“Still in town,” Kestrel said, answering for Silver—the young pegasus already had her cheeks bulging with stew like a chipmunk storing nuts and couldn’t answer at the moment. “We found a job and a new recruit. The geezers are polishin’ off the details.”

“That’s good to hear,” Miss Irons said. “Hopefully whatever job you found will get us enough money so we can go back someplace north. The desert heat here is practically murderous.”

If Miss Irons was complaining, then Kestrel figured she was in a good mood. Or at least, had nothing to be directly angry at at the moment. She lifted her ears and tilted them this way and that while she got herself her own bowl of stew, and her eyebrows lowered. “Where’s Roughshod?” she asked the older mare. “I figured I was gonna hear Sienna singin’ when I came back.”

Miss Irons shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t much care,” she said. “The poor wretch wasn’t giving him any fun. She was all tears and misery in a few minutes, blubbering on about anything I asked her. Roughshod likes breaking down tough ponies more than he does kicking around schoolfillies, so he got bored and gave up after a few minutes.”

“He probably went to find a cactus to wrestle,” Silver chimed in between breathless bites of her meal. “Somethin’ as prickly as he is.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Kestrel said. She took a few steps to the right and peered through the tents, spying the Gang’s poor captive. Sienna’s face was caked with dried blood, with channels cut through her matted coat for her tears. She shivered slightly as she hung from the wagon wheel, her body curled in on itself to try and be as small as possible despite her bound state. Kestrel knew that she wasn’t going to be in much of a talking mood after being beaten and scared witless by Roughshod, but she did feel something resembling pity tug at her heart.

Silver looked up from her meal and let her eyes uneasily settle on Sienna. “Poor mare,” she muttered under her breath. Then those eyes found Kestrel. “What’re we gonna do with her?”

Nothing. That ain’t for me to decide, even if I was the one that brought her here and I’m Tumbleweed’s right hoof. Best to just let her be for now.

Try to get something out of her. Not sure what all she told Roughshod and Miss Irons, but I bet half of it was desperate lies just to get him to stop hittin’ her. Maybe she’ll be willin’ to talk to another mare.

Untie her and give her something to eat. Poor thing ain’t been fed since… well, don’t know when her last meal was, but she ain’t had a bite of our bread. After all she’s been through, maybe she deserves a bit of mercy.

Let her go. Damn filly’s been through enough. We don’t need to keep her around for Roughshod to tell Tumbleweed what she told him. Whether she makes it to safety somewhere in the desert or an adder gets her, don’t make no difference to me.

Bring her to the sheriff. A hundred bits is a hundred bits, and we might as well get some use outta her. She’ll probably swing, but that’s the outlaw’s life.

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18157035

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 22

Untie her and give her something to eat: 46%

Kestrel frowned in Sienna’s direction. Nothing about the Gang’s treatment of their captive had really sat well with her ever since she’d brought the poor mare back. The earth pony had suffered plenty at the Gang’s hooves, and it looked like she’d suffered plenty back when she was with the Vipers to boot. Maybe it was time for a little bit of mercy.

She stood up and approached the captive mare at an easy pace. Sienna didn’t react to her presence, not at first. It was only when Kestrel’s hooves came to a stop in front of the bound mare that she stopped shivering for a moment and warily opened her eyes. They glanced up at Kestrel’s face for only a fleeting moment before they darted back down to the ground. No words left her lips.

Kestrel sighed and drew her knife from its sheath. Sienna wilted as she heard the noise of metal on leather, but she didn’t look up. There was no pleading for her life; whether she was too scared to say anything or ready to accept her fate, Kestrel couldn’t say. What she was not ready for was the blade to sever the ropes holding her legs to the wheel. She gasped and fell forward, lacking anything to hold her upright anymore, and struggled to lift her face from the dirt.

“Get up, you sorry thing,” Kestrel said, offering a hoof to Sienna. The mare looked at it with distrust and fear, and she wrapped her tail around herself as if it would protect her. Kestrel only rolled her eyes and scooped up the mare in her forelegs, dragging her to her hooves. Sienna whimpered as her stiff muscles stretched from use for the first time in nearly a day, and then Kestrel was slowly leading her back to the fire, back to Silver and the stew.

The rumbling from Sienna’s stomach as she set eyes on the stew practically boomed like a cannonade over the rolling fields of Gallopsburg. She was hungry, no denying that, and simply seeing food seemed to drive away her fear for the time being. Kestrel had to wonder just when exactly she had her last good meal, because the mare had either been starved for food when they found her the day before, or she just had a hunger that would put even Roughshod to shame.

“Sit,” Kestrel ordered her, and Sienna did just that, sitting on the dusty ground on the opposite side of the kettle from Silver. Silver tried to smile at her, but Sienna hid her face and looked away. Kestrel wasn’t surprised; it was she and Silvie who foalnapped her anyway and brought her back here. If she’d been captured by Sienna’s gang, then she’d certainly be wary of anything her captors tried to do with her… though she had a feeling the Vipers wouldn’t be nearly as nice or fair.

She ladled out some of the stew and set it in a tin bowl, then placed it in front of Sienna. The young captive flinched back, but Kestrel nudged it closer with a wing. “Eat,” she ordered again, raising an eyebrow when Sienna failed to move. “I know you’re starving.”

“N-No,” Sienna stammered in a quiet voice. “It’s poison.”

“Poison? Celestia’s sake, filly. She look poisoned to you?” She pointed a feather in Silver’s direction, then helped herself to a bowl. “Quit your fussin’, girl. If I was gonna murder you, I’d put my damn knife between your ribs and watch you squeal like a stuck pig. So you gonna eat your damn food, or what?”

Kestrel didn’t wait for a response. She took her own serving back to Silvie’s side and sat down, and when she turned back to their captive, Sienna had finally lifted the bowl to her lips and sucked down the broth like she was a dying mare in the desert. Which, Kestrel mused, wasn’t too far off from the truth.

She let Sienna finish off her meal before saying anything more. She saw Miss Irons watching from the wagon, disapproval stamped across her face, but she didn’t much care. Let her fuss all she wanted; it wouldn’t change a thing.

When she saw Sienna staring longingly at the kettle, Kestrel finished her own lunch and tossed the tin aside. “Don’t get any ideas,” she growled at Sienna, making her shrink back. “You only get one, not two. Not ‘til we know what to do with you.”

“And… w-what are you gonna do with me?” Sienna asked.

“Don’t rightly know yet. Depends.” Kestrel leaned forward and tapped her hooves together. “I know you and my big, ugly friend had a few words today. You and him and his hooves.” The look on Sienna’s face made it pretty clear that she understood who Kestrel was talking about. “Now, I wanna know what he asked you, and what you told him. I’d rather hear it from your mouth than his; frankly, I trust yours more.”

Sienna swallowed hard, and her hooves pawed at the ground. Kestrel knew a few thoughts about escape crossed the young mare’s mind, but she didn’t act. Not yet. “He… well, he asked about the Vipers.”

“Your gang,” Kestrel concluded. “What did he ask?”

“How many of us there were,” Sienna said. “I told him fifty or sixty.”

“Fifty or sixty?” Silver asked, she turned a worried look in Kestrel’s direction. “That’s… that’s a lot.”

“Shush, Silvie,” Kestrel said, holding a wing in her direction. “Until you master your poker face, I’m gonna want you to stay quiet and outta this. In fact, why don’t you go find where Roughshod went off to? Leave our guest to me.”

Silver hesitated, but she eventually stood up and cleared out regardless. Then it was only Kestrel and Sienna, with Miss Irons eavesdropping from the other side of camp. Kestrel frowned down her muzzle at Sienna and tapped her hooves together some more. “Fifty or sixty,” she echoed, deep in thought. “That’s a lot more than what I heard.”

A flicker of defiance sprang up in Sienna’s face. “It’s the truth.”

“It’s a damn lie, is what it is,” Kestrel barked back, and that flicker was gone. “I been talkin’ to the Sheriff. I know all about you. He tells me you got no more than forty ponies in that gorge. Given how he dealt with the other gangs ‘round here, I’m inclined to believe him.”

Sienna was silent, but Kestrel knew she’d rattled her cage with the accusation. Hopefully she’d be more cooperative with the rest of the questions. “What else did you tell him?”

“He asked me who our boss was,” Sienna said. “I told him he’s called Rattlesnake.”

“You know this Rattlesnake well?” Kestrel asked her. “Gang like that, I doubt your boss really knows who you are. He probably don’t even know you’re gone.”

Sienna shivered. “No,” she admitted. “He don’t care about me much. Don’t think about me.” After a second, she added, “I think about him, though.”

That caught Kestrel’s attention. “And why would that be?”

“He took me from my Da when I was real small,” Sienna said. “Maybe ten years old. Da had the fever, he couldn’t stop him. Rattlesnake said he saved my life, otherwise I woulda got the fever too. Said I had to pay him back, though. So I did…”

“Paid back… how?”

The silence was Sienna’s answer, and it told Kestrel everything she needed to know.

“Dear Celestia,” Kestrel muttered under her breath. Sienna had only been ten when Rattlesnake had taken her away. She looked like she’d been with the Vipers for fifteen years, based on that. “You never try to run?”

“I was too scared,” Sienna admitted. “I got the courage one night, though. Made a break for it while he was out stealing that gold. A cougar found me when I stopped to rest. It nearly ripped my throat out. I was screaming and crying for my life as I tried to fight it off.” She touched the white scars on her face, going from her nose and cheek all the way down to the side of her neck, and then a few more around her shoulders. “I don’t know how I got the gun, but I shot it. But I was bleeding so badly I knew I was gonna die if I didn’t do something. So I went back. Rattlesnake didn’t care that I was bleeding to death, he just tossed me a rag and some whiskey and told me to deal with it. So I did, and I ain’t ever tried to run again.”

Kestrel shook her head in sullen disbelief. “You’re tougher than most, I’ll give you that,” she said. “Ain’t many mares your size that can fight a cougar back with only their hooves. Though I guess we did you a favor, getting’ you outta that dump.”

“It doesn’t feel like much of a favor…” Sienna murmured. Her eyes wandered back to Kestrel, and the pegasus could see the fear and hurt in them. “Why won’t you just kill me? I know you’re gonna. Stop making me suffer, please, just… just do it already. I don’t want to go through anything more. I can’t take anything more. I’d rather die than go back to the wheel and have that stallion threaten to rape me more.”

“He ain’t gonna do that no more, I’ll make sure of it.” And Kestrel knew she would; she barely tolerated Roughshod anyway, and she knew Roughshod barely considered most mares to be anything more than objects unless they were tough enough to fight back. Sienna was not. It made Kestrel’s skin crawl just thinking about the brute.

“Then what are you going to do?” Sienna asked her. “What now?”

Send her back to the wheel. She got her meal and she did her talkin’, but we better secure her back up again. Just cause she spun me some sob story don’t mean I can trust her any more than before.

Let her loose. She can either run or stick around, don’t much care. But she deserves better than what we been givin’ her, that’s for sure. Mare like her needs to make her own decisions.

Try to recruit her. She’s tough as nails, I’ll give her that. My life’s been a sob story of its own, and she reminds me of myself, some. We could use more crew like her. [Attempt to recruit SIENNA to the Gang]

Shoot her. She’s askin’ for death, it would be a mercy to give her what she wants.

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18178989

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 23

Try to recruit her: 51%

Kestrel sighed and leaned back on her seat. “Don’t rightly know,” she said, looking Sienna up and down. “Way I see it, you ain’t got no future anywhere outside of this life. You been a criminal since you was ten. I know what that’s like. I started stealin’ to survive when I was eight. I ain’t never been on the right side of the law since. There’s no goin’ back from that.”

That condemnation seemed to make Sienna shrink down in despair. Kestrel just shrugged and pulled out her knife, digging out gravel and grit from under her horseshoes. “Now, you could go back to your old gang. I doubt this Rattlesnake feller’s gonna care one way or another whether you came back. But I mean, you tried to run away once and failed. Guess we did you a favor pulling you out of there. You gonna run back now after all this?”

When Sienna failed to say anything more, Kestrel gave her a slight nod. “I reckon your best bet is to stay here and see what happens. We need tough ponies like you. And Roughshod might be a bastard, but if you’re one of us, he ain’t gonna hurt you. I think you’d find a better life with a gang that respects mares instead of your Vipers.”

Is Sienna receptive to Kestrel’s suggestion? Yes

Kestrel watched Sienna’s ears perk up, and she saw a flicker of something in her eyes. Was it hope? She wasn’t sure. Sienna swallowed hard and, after some effort, managed to look Kestrel in the eyes as she spoke. “You… mean that?”

“’Course,” Kestrel said. She managed a small smile for the former captive. “Don’t think you have to commit one way or another, now. Just… think about it. I’m sure I can persuade Tumbleweed to consider it.”

“I… well, thank you, I guess.” The young mare looked back at the wagon and shuddered. “I don’t have to go back to that, do I?”

Kestrel shook her head. “So long as you stay in camp, you’ll be fine. I may be offerin’ you a spot in our family, but trust’s gotta be earned first.” She pointed up to the bluff where Snapshot was silhouetted against the sky and nudged Sienna in the side. “I ain’t gonna put you back on the wheel, but that don’t mean you’re free to wander off whenever you feel, understand?”

Sienna shakily nodded. “I… I understand.”

“Good.” Kestrel pointed to the kettle with a wing. “Feel free to grab a second helpin’ then, for your cooperation. Just try to leave some for Tumbleweed when he gets back. He’ll be more receptive to your plight if he ain’t hungry.”

“Alright… okay.” As Kestrel stood up and started to leave, Sienna raised her voice. “Wait!” When Kestrel turned around, Sienna blinked twice and hung her head. “…Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for nothin’,” Kestrel insisted. “This is a thankless life we live.”

She left Sienna behind in the camp, spreading her wings and flying high above the desert. She chased her shadows across the ground for some time, then turned around and flew in the opposite direction. Nearly three hours melted away into nothing as Kestrel soared high above the ground, consumed with her own thoughts and meditations. Only when she saw a colorful purple wagon ascending the slopes to the camp did she finally begin to glide back down to earth.

By the time she landed back in camp, Tumbleweed had parked the wagon alongside the others and was unhitching himself from the harness. Wanderer helped Trixie out of the back, and when she looked around, her jaw fell slack at what she saw. “This is your camp?” Trixie wondered aloud. “It seems so… primitive!”

“We’re certainly not traveling in style,” Wanderer said with a chuckle. “Well, apart from what we take with ourselves.”

“Ours is a hard life,” Tumbleweed said. “It’s not too late to turn back now, little filly.”

Trixie seemed to bristle at being called a little filly. “Trixie has suffered through worse!” she proclaimed, stomping away from the wagon. “She has spent many nights alone in scorching deserts and frozen mountains! Nothing is too hard for Trixie!”

“You must never spent much time in the desert if you don’t realize it gets cold at night, not hot,” Kestrel teased her as she approached.

Trixie scoffed. “There you are. Trixie was wondering where you went. Instead of bringing her back here yourself, you left Trixie in the care of these two strangers! They wouldn’t even let Trixie see where she was going!”

“All the better to protect ourselves with,” Tumbleweed said. He gestured to Wanderer, who bowed his head. “Follow Wanderer, he’ll get you set up. We’ll see if you’re worth your bluster in the morning.” Then he turned to Kestrel and looked over the camp. “I trust nothing went wrong while I was gone?”

“Camp’s still in one piece,” Kestrel said with a shrug of her wings. “Don’t know what more you could expect.”

“Indeed.” His head suddenly ceased its swivel, and his eyes locked on Sienna’s ruddy coat by the fire. “What is she doing free?” he asked Kestrel, his voice both concerned and accusatory.

“I… had a talk with her,” Kestrel said. “Miss Irons said she was bawlin’ like a filly in minutes once Roughshod got his hooves on her. Figured she’d be more cooperative with me.”

“And what did you talk about?”

Kestrel felt like Tumbleweed’s eyes were piercing through her soul. She coughed and rubbed the back of her neck with her wing crest. “I asked her a few questions about what she and Roughshod shared words over. Learned a bit of her history.”

“Then why is she not tied back up?”

“I… well, I implied that she should maybe join with us instead of goin’ back to the Vipers.”

Is Tumbleweed okay with Kestrel’s decision to attempt to recruit Sienna without telling him? No

Those piercing eyes only grew harder. “Kessie? Have you forgotten how we do things? Have you forgotten what keeps us safe?”

Kestrel shook her head… but her eyes lowered all the same. “No, sir.”

“We keep the Gang small… we keep ourselves tight. The more ponies we bring on, the bigger the risk we’re gonna get caught one day. And here it is, in one day, you’ve offered two different ponies the opportunity to join on with us.” He raised an eyebrow. “You start to see why I’m… concerned with your judgment here?”

Kestrel took a step back, but her wings puffed out all the same. “I think they can be useful to us,” she insisted. “More ponies means bigger hauls we can take down.”

“And a bigger trail for the Pinks to follow,” Tumbleweed reminded her. He sighed and looked back at Trixie, who was eyeing the wagon full of repeaters and ammunition with suspicion. “You better be right about this, otherwise we’re gonna have problems.”

“I ain’t been wrong yet,” Kestrel said.

“Yet.” Tumbleweed sighed and walked off. “I just pray that you’re right, Kessie. I pray you are…”

Then he was gone to get some food, leaving Kestrel alone in the camp. Alone… and with some time to kill.

Tumbleweed is now skeptical of Kestrel's recent decisions and will be keeping a close eye on her.

Discuss plans with Tumbleweed for the train.

Sit by the fire with Trixie

Watch the stars with Wanderer

Get some sleep and prepare for the train robbery

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18196680

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 24

Discuss plans with Tumbleweed for the train robbery: 78%

Kestrel waited until the sun had set and the moon was out over the desert before she decided to try and talk to Tumbleweed again. Hopefully some food would do him good and let him calm down before she did so. In any event, the atmosphere around camp was awkward and uncomfortable for many hours.

Silver had returned around dinner time without Roughshod, apparently unable to find him near camp, but Wanderer had ventured back to town once more and returned sometime later with the burly stallion in tow. He’d gone to town for drinks and other pleasures when Sienna proved less entertaining to threaten and interrogate than he’d anticipated, but thankfully he’d stayed out of trouble while he was gone. Or at least, so he claimed. But Wanderer was able to vouch for him, and Kestrel found herself somewhat surprised. Maybe the past few weeks on the run had given him some common sense and caution.

Was Wanderer able to learn anything more about the train that might be useful? Yes

Wanderer had not been idle after everypony split up in Rock Ridge. He’d gone to the train station and made small talk with the clerk and learned the train’s timetable. It was supposed to pass through Rock Ridge at two in the afternoon, on the dot. It would be stopping there to be refueled, and apparently this was routine enough that the clerk knew something about what the Gang was going to be up against.

How many soldiers are likely to be on the train? 10

“It’ll be simple,” Wanderer had assured Kestrel with a smirk, as if he already knew the robbery was as good as won. “You and Tumbleweed and the others make five good guns. Surprise like we’re planning, five can defeat ten easily. Maybe if you bring some of your new recruits with us, we’ll put the balance even more in our favor.”

That, Kestrel could agree to. Five with the high ground against ten in a canyon was easily in the Gang’s favor. So long as everything went according to plan, they’d be walking out of the canyon much, much richer than they were walking into it.

He soon dismissed himself to help Trixie settle in. Kestrel could tell from looking at the magician that she seemed anxious and out of place. Whatever she had thought the Gang was, this clearly wasn’t it. She might even be thinking about backing out, but Kestrel knew it was too late for her. Tumbleweed had already extracted an oath from her on the way to the camp, the same simple oath that everypony else in the Gang had made, all the way back to the day it first started. It was the rule that kept them together and chained them to each other for life. It was the only way a group of outlaws and wanted ponies could even hope to survive with the weight of the Law pressing down on them:

You turn your back on the Gang, and you die. Kestrel had no doubt those terms were made pretty clear to Trixie on the way to the camp.

She found Tumbleweed by his tent, listening to Miss Irons’ report on everything Sienna had told them. His face remained impassive as he listened, and he only nodded or shook his head to what the elder mare told him. He soon spotted Kestrel patiently waiting a few strides away and pulled out a cigar, lighting it off a candle and smiling at Miss Irons. “Thank you, Miss, that will be all.”

Miss Irons looked around and spotted Kestrel waiting. Her usual scowl that seemed all but permanently carved into her face returned, and she nodded once. “She was the one that let that filly off the wheel,” she couldn’t help but say as she left.

“I’m well aware of that.” Tumbleweed sighed, and then it was just the two of them again. He looked Kestrel up and down and noted the posture of her wings. “Well?”

“Relax, Boss, I ain’t bringin’ nothin’ ‘bout Sienna and Trixie up tonight. Wanted to discuss the train plans with you.”

Though Tumbleweed continued to scrutinize Kestrel with his piercing eyes, he finally nodded toward the edge of camp after a few seconds. “At least that will be productive. Come on.”

The two ponies walked past a few darkened tents and crates of supplies until they found themselves at the cliff overlooking the desert below them. Tumbleweed sat down first on some rocks, and he offered a cigar to Kestrel from his pocket. Kestrel readily took it and lit it with a match struck off her shoe. The taste was powerful and bitter, and it made her tongue feel fuzzy after a few puffs. No matter where the Gang happened to run to, it seemed like Tumbleweed always found a way to find a box of cigars from Hoofanna.

As Kestrel settled down next to him, Tumbleweed raised an eyebrow. “Well? What did you find?”

“We found a good spot to lay the charges,” Kestrel told him. “Bit of a ways north, there’s a canyon cut through a mesa. Walls is very narrow. We put the charges there and blow the rails, they’ll be stuck in the bottom while we’re up at the top. Should have complete control of the situation.”

Tumbleweed slowly nodded along. “Probably about the best place we could do it,” he agreed after a few moments of thought. “Wanderer told me that we shouldn’t have too many problems with the guard detail. He tell you that?”

“He did. Still, they’re ten and we’re five. If we don’t keep a tight lid on it…”

“We ain’t gonna be five,” Tumbleweed told her.

Kestrel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? It’s me, you, Rough, Silver, Snapshot… We’re the best guns, unless you mean to give Wanderer a repeater.”

The end of Tumbleweed’s cigar glowed brightly for a moment, and a cloud of smoke left his lips shortly after. “We’re gonna take your new friends down with us,” he finally said.

Kestrel blinked in surprise. She knew Tumbleweed hadn’t had enough time to come around to the idea yet. “What do you mean? We ain’t broke them in yet, we ain’t got a good measure of their abilities.”

“This will be a good trial run,” Tumbleweed said. “That showmare you recruited, she wanted in anyway. She’s the one with all the gunpowder, so it only makes sense to have her place the charges. And this Viper Gang mare… you want her to join us so badly? Then let’s see how she does in the robbery. It’ll be seven against ten. The odds’ll be more than enough in our favor.”

“That Trixie mare don’t look like she’s so good at shootin’,” Kestrel warned him. “She’s more bluff and bluster than gunslinger material. And I don’t know too much about Sienna. The only time I seen her try and do somethin’, she tried takin’ on me and Silvie by herself. Don’t you think a train job’s too dangerous to break in the new recruits?”

Tumbleweed turned to face her, eyebrow raised. “Now you don’t want your prospects to join us? Well, Kessie, which is it? Are they part of our gang or not?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Listen, Kestrel, I… I trust your instincts. I really do. But we can’t afford to be reckless out here. We only just slipped the Pinks. The more noise we make, the shorter we’ll have before they’re back on us.”

“I know, Boss,” Kestrel said. “We been runnin’ from the Law since day one.”

They both took drags on their cigars, and Tumbleweed’s eyes wandered up to the stars, clear and bright over the desert. “It has been ‘day one’ for you and I, ain’t it?” he mused.

“Ever since that hospital in Canterlot,” Kestrel said with a chuckle.

Tumbleweed chuckled back. “It was even before then,” he said. “Or have you forgotten?”

Kestrel slowly shook her head with a small grin on her muzzle. She and Tumbleweed had first met in Canterlot when she was sixteen and he was twenty-two. Kestrel had thought she could rob the lanky stallion in front of her, only to realize later that that same stallion was trying to lure her off to an alley to rob her instead. Things quickly escalated into a duel, and both ponies had drawn at the same time, shot each other at the same time, and failed to kill each other. “I haven’t forgotten that,” Kestrel said. Then, with a wink, she added, “I got closer to killin’ you, though.”

“I was a larger target,” Tumbleweed said, rubbing the spot on his ribs where Kestrel’s bullet had cracked off of the bone, the lucky deflection saving his life. His laugh redoubled as he recalled those days. “And then the damn nurses had the bright idea to put both of us in the same room!”

Kestrel laughed at that memory as well. Lots of name-calling and insults had been flung across the room at each other for the better part of two days. But as it had turned out, both ponies were wanted by the law, and when they heard the police coming to take them away, they’d managed a daring escape together, slipping out the second-story window and down to the back grounds of the hospital. It had been the Gang’s first escape for its first two members, and after they had finally recuperated someplace safer, the two had decided to combine their talents rather than go it alone.

“We sure came a long way since then,” Kestrel said, watching the flickering lights of Rock Ridge far away.

“We have, through trust and caution.” The mirth slowly bled away from Tumbleweed’s face. “Trust and caution,” he reiterated, looking Kestrel over. “I hope your new recruits work out for us. I do. But if they don’t, I’ll at least know who to point my hoof at before the rope snaps my neck.”

“We ain’t gettin’ our necks snapped,” Kestrel said, waving a wing. “We’ll be fine.”

“I certainly hope so,” Tumbleweed said. “But do you trust them enough to help with this job?”

SIENNA has been added to the Gang’s character sheets.

Bring Trixie and Sienna on the train robbery. Tumbleweed wants them to prove themselves as part of the Gang, so they gotta come and help us rob this train. Hopefully havin’ two new greenhooves don’t screw us over if things get dicey.

Bring only Trixie. Sienna ain’t fully committed to bein’ in the Gang yet, so maybe it’s best she stay here. Trixie wanted to be here at least, and maybe her penchant for fireworks can help us with the charges.

Bring only Sienna. Sienna’s been in a few scrapes before, so she ain’t as likely to lose her head as Trixie might be. If she can prove herself here, that’ll go a long ways to makin’ her one of us.

Don’t bring either of them. This job’s too dangerous for two newcomers to bring along. They’re as likely to get us killed as help us out if they don’t know how we operate. They should sit this one out.

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18230216

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 25

Bring Both: 64%

“We ain’t gonna have no problems with both of ‘em,” Kestrel assured Tumbleweed. “I say we bring ‘em both along, see how they fit in. We don’t really know what we got until we see how they handle themselves.”

“I ain’t too confident with regards to that,” Tumbleweed said. “This Trixie mare… I don’t think she knows what she got herself into.”

“But you made her take the oath?”

“I did,” Tumbleweed said. “If she walks out on us now, the vultures will have a feast.”

“Nothin’ for it, then.” Kestrel yawned and covered her muzzle with a wing. “Best be gettin’ some sleep. I don’t like to be dead on my hooves when the bullets fly.”

“Neither do I,” Tumbleweed agreed. “Hopefully we can avoid that altogether.”

“Hopefully.”

Yet Kestrel found herself awake long before the sun rose the next day; she always found it difficult to sleep when anticipating a robbery. Instead, she used the time to clean her guns and make sure they were ready for a fight. Soon, both revolvers gleamed in the pre-dawn light, and the lever of her revolver slid easily along well-oiled hinges. On top of that, she made sure that her bandolier was readied with all the ammunition she could need for a fight. If there were only ten guards, then hopefully she wouldn’t need more than two reloads for each weapon. Anything more would weigh her down too much to fly fast.

When she went to the fire for coffee, she was surprised to find the two new mares sitting side by side… even if neither said anything to the other. Sienna looked wide awake and already jumpy, but at least she hadn’t tried to steal away in the middle of the night—not that she would have gotten far before Snapshot saw her. Trixie was decidedly more tired-looking, but she nursed a cup of coffee as if she’d done it all her life, and Kestrel figured she’d be alert and ready by the time the train came down the tracks that afternoon.

Both mares looked up as Kestrel poured some coffee into a tin and sat down across from them, though Sienna quickly averted her gaze. Trixie, though somewhat uncomfortable, didn’t. “So… is Trixie wrong to assume that you all aren’t ranchers or performers?”

Kestrel chuckled and took a sip of her coffee, bitter and black. “I wouldn’t quite say that. We’re all performers, alright, it’s just the government decided our shows break the law.”

“I… see…” Trixie took another gulp from her coffee and sighed as she set the empty tin down. “Tumbleweed made it fairly clear to Trixie that she is now committed to your gang for the rest of her life. Perhaps this is something that should have been made clearer to Trixie before she was brought here.”

“You were the one who was insistent that you wanted in with us,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “We weren’t about to tell you that we was wanted ponies in the middle of Rock Ridge. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here; Tumbleweed don’t think you got what it takes.”

It was the right button to press; Kestrel had figured out within minutes of meeting her that Trixie didn’t take affronts to her pride lightly. “Trixie doesn’t have what it takes?!” Trixie echoed back incredulously. “Why, Tumbleweed just hasn’t seen what Trixie is capable of! She will show him that it was no mistake to let Trixie join!”

“Good,” Kestrel said between sips of coffee. “Because we’re gonna need your help blowin’ the rails in a train robbery.”

That gave Trixie some pause, and her brow slowly lowered. “Train robbery? Is it… dangerous?”

“Could be worse,” Kestrel said. “We could be trying to kidnap Princess Celestia. But I don’t think a little train job will be too much for the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

“No… No, of course not!” Though Trixie proudly puffed out her chest, Kestrel could see clean through her to the worry underneath.

“And you,” Kestrel said, turning her attention to Sienna, who instinctively shrank back when she realized she was being spoken to. “You’re comin’ with us, too.”

Sienna sharply raised her head. “I am? Why?”

“Because if you wanna be one of us and not end up back on that wheel or on your own, then you gotta prove we can rely on you.” Her eyes sharply narrowed on the ruddy mare. “I did you a favor speakin’ highly of you to Tumbleweed. I hope I didn’t misplace my trust.”

“N-No,” Sienna managed. “You didn’t, I promise.”

“Good girl.” Kestrel smirked and stretched her wings as far to the sides as they would go. “When the bullets start flyin’, I don’t wanna see you two runnin’. You got that?”

“Trixie would never run!” Trixie anxiously proclaimed. Sienna just quietly nodded her head.

“Good,” Kestrel said, and she finished off the last of her coffee. “You two take care of anythin’ you need to handle between now and lunch. We’ll be ridin’ west at Tumbleweed’s call.”

She stood up and left the two mares to their own devices and wandered off toward the chuckwagon. Miss Irons and Wanderer were busy preparing breakfast, gently teasing each other as they worked. Of course, the moment Miss Irons saw Kestrel, her face resumed its dour frown, and she tried to wave the gunslinger away with a hoof. “Food ain’t ready yet,” she grumbled. “Go and sit back by the fire.”

“I couldn’t, the smell here was just too good,” Kestrel said with an upturn of the corners of her lips. Her eyes fell on Wanderer. “You joinin’ us today, old stallion?”

Wanderer chuckled and shook his head. “If I go, who’s going to watch the camp and protect Miss Irons?”

Kestrel guffawed. “Miss Irons could fight off the Pinks all by her lonesome if need be. She ain’t the one needin’ protection.”

“All the more reason to stay close,” Wanderer said. He scrambled a few eggs and tossed them into a pan along with some cheese and peppers. “In all seriousness, I may go down to Rock Ridge again and keep my ears open. When that train doesn’t pull into the station today, it might be useful to know what the ponies in town start saying.”

“Good idea,” Kestrel said with a nod. If they kicked the hornet’s nest in Rock Ridge, it would be best if the Gang knew about it and stayed away until the heat cooled off. She turned to Miss Irons and raised an eyebrow. “What about you, Miss?”

“I may go with Wanderer,” the senior unicorn said. “Otherwise it’ll just be myself at camp, and I haven’t had much of a chance to go to town yet. We need to get more supplies and ammunition, we’re running low on both.”

“Better hope those Vipers don’t find it while we’re gone,” Wanderer teased her. “It wouldn’t look good if everypony came back from the train job to find the camp cleaned out.”

“We’ll be fine,” Miss Irons insisted. “We’re so far out of the way that I sincerely doubt anypony is going to stumble across this place while we’re gone.”

“You’re likely right about that,” Kestrel agreed. Then, touching her wingtip to her hat, she nodded to the two elders. “Anyway, you take care now. Make sure you grab some beer and whiskey while you’re in town. If all goes well, we’re gonna have a party tonight.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Wanderer said, waving goodbye with a wing. “Just come back in one piece.”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

No poll for this chapter.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The Gang left for the canyon shortly after breakfast, hauling two of their wagons after them. Roughshod thought two was too few; Silvie thought two was too many. But Kestrel and Tumbleweed knew that two was all they would be able to protect if they encountered trouble on the way back to camp, and it would likely be impossible they could strip the train bare no matter how many wagons they brought. Two would suffice, and so two it was.

Roughshod and Snapshot had been drafted to pull the wagon laden with Trixie’s improvised explosives. The magician had taken several of her fireworks and bundled them together into something resembling a powder charge and combined them with a single stick of dynamite to create something sure to shear the rails in two. Kestrel knew just from looking at them that they’d do the trick. Once they’d been fashioned, Tumbleweed had ordered that Roughshod and Snapshot should be the ones to transport them to the site, not Trixie herself. Kestrel knew it was because he still didn’t trust her yet, but hopefully that would change after today.

Trixie and Sienna were responsible for hauling the second wagon; Kestrel was just happy she wasn’t recruited to do so. The two new mares shared a lopsided conversation as Trixie endlessly babbled and grumbled while Sienna marched in silence, though Kestrel could tell they were both nervous about what they were getting into. She couldn’t exactly blame them. There was no way each imagined they’d be doing this a day ago.

Tumbleweed had ordered Kestrel and Silvie to fly ahead and make sure that their approach to the canyon wasn’t noticed, and so far, all Kestrel saw was barren, empty desert. As far as she could tell, they were the only ponies in this stretch of sand and flat rock, and that was exactly the way she liked it. If there weren’t any witnesses, then there wouldn’t be any way to track the robbery back to the Gang.

They made it to the canyon shortly before lunch, and Tumbleweed immediately set them to work. The wagons they left by the mouth of the canyon, as close as they could bring them, and the seven ponies began to stake out their positions for the hit. Kestrel directed Trixie to the spot she’d seen earlier, and told Snapshot to help make sure they were set correctly. Silver flew off to the north end of the canyon to scout for the train, with the promise to return as soon as she saw smoke on the horizon. Roughshod went to find a spot to lie in wait for the train to stop, leaving Kestrel and Tumbleweed to confer along the rails while Sienna sullenly lingered nearby.

“This is a good spot,” Tumbleweed said, scratching at his chin as he observed the canyon walls rising above them. “We can stop this train here, alright. That won’t be a problem. Only problem’ll be if they have enough patriotism to fight back.”

“You never know with the Army,” Kestrel mused. “Half of ‘em are cowards and the other half are instilled with the finest sense of duty you ain’t ever seen elsewhere.”

“Wonder which half we’ll get.” Tumbleweed frowned at the charges being placed, noting Trixie’s distant complaints and bickering with disdain. “If your magician sets those right, we can derail the engine and leave the other cars intact.”

“She’ll manage it fine,” Kestrel assured him. “But what’s the plan for the rest of us?”

“I figure I put you and Silvie on the canyon walls, one on each side, keep a lid on this thing. Your magician I want back by the wagons; she seems like to get herself killed if shootin’ starts and she’s standin’ down in the canyon with the rest of us. And also, if those charges fail, she’s gonna have to come up with another way to stop the train.”

“Don’t know how she’ll manage that,” Kestrel muttered to herself. “What about you and the boys?”

“Roughshod and I will hide wait near the back of the canyon,” Tumbleweed said. “Any commandin’ officers’ll be ridin’ along in the caboose. I’d rather meet them face to face first before any of their soldiers get a chance to see what’s goin’ on. Might be able to get ‘em to surrender that way. Snapshot I’m gonna put on that bit of rock right there; I figure he can provide good fire from that angle.”

He pointed up to an outcropping of rock jutting out above the rails, maybe twenty feet off the ground. It was situated in such a way that the train should stop right under it, so he could keep the whole thing covered from one spot. Kestrel nodded her head in approval. “Ain’t gonna be a better spot for him, that’s for sure. What about Sienna?”

“I’ll put the runt up front with the magician,” Tumbleweed said with a shrug. “That way, we got the thing surrounded. Should be simple as that.”

The fluttering of wings turned both their heads, and Silver landed beside them. “Smoke on the rails,” she said, sweat shining on her coat. “The train’s coming… maybe ten minutes.”

“Good. Right on time.” Tumbleweed raised his voice, letting it echo off the canyon walls. “Alright, ponies, this is it! Sienna, Trixie, you go wait by the wagons! You blow the charges right before the engine runs over them, and if those don’t stop it, you two better! Snapshot, on this outcrop! Rough, with me!” He nodded at Kestrel and drew his bandanna over his muzzle. “Good luck, Kessie.”

“Good shootin’,” Kestrel responded.

“Hopefully I won’t need it.” Then he was off to his hiding spot, Roughshod following close behind.

Silver turned to Kestrel and raised her eyebrows. “We goin’ up?”

“We’re goin’ up,” Kestrel confirmed, spreading her wings. Silver followed close behind, breaking for the far canyon wall when Kestrel pointed to it. Finding a suitable spot of rock to hide behind, Kestrel leaned her repeater against the stone and pulled her bandana over her muzzle. Hers was a red cloth, red as blood, and she made sure it securely covered her muzzle before she grabbed her rifle again.

Then all that was left was to wait.

How many cars are on the train? Seven

Sure enough, the train approached the canyon about ten minutes later. Not counting the engine, there were seven cars with an armored caboose bringing up the rear. Four of the cars had walls and a roof, while the other three were open top. Crates and covered equipment decorated the flat cars, while one of the covered cars was armored with Chatter guns sticking out of armored portholes. The Chatter guns worried Kestrel some. If those ended up trained on any of her friends, the storm of lead would cut them down where they stood.

How many soldiers can Kestrel see on the train? Five

A few soldiers milled about on the cars, supposedly on watch for ponies like her. She counted five in all, disregarding the engineer up front, who looked like a civilian contractor rather than a soldier. She knew there had to be more where she couldn’t see them, maybe inside of the covered cars, and definitely some in the caboose. Would there be only ten? She wasn’t sure, but it seemed likely. If there were more, then things would get interesting.

Kestrel held her breath as the train rumbled along the rails. She kept a close eye on the soldiers, repeater in her wings, searching for any signs that Tumbleweed and the others had been spotted. But they didn’t turn their heads as the train rolled down the steel, and she grit her teeth as the engine approached the spot where they’d buried the charges.

Did Trixie set the charges correctly? No

Trixie uses Pyrotechnics to reroll the previous check: Fail

But the train continued to rumble on by, and Kestrel felt her gut begin to sink. She watched the engine pass right over the torn up earth where the charges had been planted… and nothing happened. She saw Silvie whip her head in her direction, wings extended in confusion, and Kestrel could only curse and stop her hoof. But maybe the charges would still go off…

Do the charges detonate at all? No

But they didn’t. Soon the caboose was clearing the spot where they’d been planted, and Kestrel knew that something had to have gone wrong. Did Trixie and Sienna run off on them? There was no way, not when they knew they’d never be able to escape two gunslingers on wing…

Does Sienna try to stop the train? No

Does Trixie? Yes

Then she saw Trixie run out onto the rails, purple cape aflutter behind her. The train blew its whistle at her, but Trixie stood her ground and let the magic on her horn grow. Only when Kestrel saw the sparks falling off of an exposed fuse did she realize that Trixie was holding another makeshift charge in her grip, ready to blow. The charges swung about in her magical grip, and Trixie let them fly straight for the engineering compartment.

Does Trixie’s plan work? No

The charges struck the armored front of the compartment and detonated, but the engineer ducked back out of the way. The blast echoed around the canyon, and suddenly the soldiers standing guard were on high alert, scanning the canyon for the cause. Kestrel felt her wings shaking in frustration; whatever happened, Trixie and Sienna had completely screwed up the plan, and she knew the blame was going to fall squarely on her shoulders for bringing them along. She saw Silvie anxious to take wing on the other side of the canyon, while Trixie jumped off the tracks as the train failed to slow down in front of her.

Does somepony take a shot? Yes

Does it hit? Yes

A crack roared out through the canyon, and Kestrel realized that Snapshot must have tried to take matters into his own hooves. A well-placed repeater round went clean through the head of one of the soldiers standing in the open, and his body tumbled off the side of the train. More gunfire began to bark out among the hidden members of the Gang, all of it in futile frustration as the train continued to roll away from them. The engine had already made it onto the bridge, and soon the train would be out of their reach.

“Stupid damned magicians!” Kestrel shouted, stomping at the dirt and spreading her wings. Was the train really slipping through their hooves?!

Chase the train alone. I’m not lettin’ this damn thing get away! Trixie and Sienna may have screwed it, but I brought them; this is on my head as much as theirs, so I gotta atone for it! [DANGEROUS]

Get Silver to help stop the train. We can’t afford to let the damn thing get away. If I bring Silvie with me, we might be able to stop it so the rest of the gang can catch up. I’ll be putting her in harm’s way, though, and two ponies are much easier to spot than one. [DANGEROUS]

Give up. The train’s lost, no sense tryin’ to run it down. All it’ll accomplish is get us killed. Better to cut our losses and move on, though I ain’t lookin’ forward to gettin’ chewed out by Tumbleweed for this calamity. [GANG MORALE -1]

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18261491

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 27

Get Silver to help stop the train: 58%

Gain progress toward the following Quirk: Daring (2/4)

No, there was no way Kestrel was going to let that train roll on into Rock Ridge. It had to be stopped here, and it had to be stopped now. The Gang couldn’t afford to lose the haul, and there was always the risk that the Law would find its way back to them now that Trixie showed her face to the engineer. Nothing good could possibly come out of letting the train steam away now, and that was all the motivation Kestrel needed to spread her wings and fling herself off the edge of the canyon.

“C’mon, Silvie!” Kestrel shouted across the gulch to the silver pegasus, who was perched on a rock with her wings half extended. “We’re stoppin’ the damn thing now! We’re the only ones who can!”

“Shit!” Silvie cursed, taking wing alongside Kestrel. She’d abandoned her repeater on the rocks like Kestrel, taking only her pair of revolvers with her. “Just the two of us?”

“You ain’t gotta come if you’re too scared!” Kestrel assured her, though she knew fully well that it would only motivate the pegasus to stay glued to her side.

Sure enough, Silver’s brow lowered and she beat her wings harder. “No way! Just… we got a plan?”

“Sure, we got a plan. Get to the engine and stop the damn thing! Now come on!”

Both pegasi dived down to the tracks, picking up speed as they did so, and frantically began to flap their wings to keep up with the train. Kestrel briefly noted the rest of the Gang blurring by beneath her, especially Trixie’s upturned blue face as she passed, but swiftly put her attention on the train in front of her. She saw a heavy cloud of coal smoke rise out of the engine in the front, and the train began to pick up speed to leave the bandits behind and flee for safety. She could also hear faint shouting from the cars of the train, and she knew the soldiers were getting ready to defend the military’s property.

Train combat dice rolls are listed in the discord server.

The train began to chug along the tracks at a fair clip as the engineer shoveled more coal into the engine, and soon Kestrel found herself equalizing with the train’s speed. The caboose loomed just in front of her, armored windows shut, though she wondered how long it would be before rifles appeared through the holes to blast her out of the sky. Silvie, on the other hoof, continued to frantically beat her wings, and she began to edge past the caboose and catch up on the engine.

“Watch out for soldiers!” Kestrel shouted her, and she grabbed a revolver out of its holster and began to angle off to the left side of the train. She saw a soldier lean over the edge of the nearest open car, but Kestrel straightened her wings to glide for a second and line up the shot. The revolver bucked between her teeth and the report flattened her ears, but the soldier cried out and fell off the side of the train with a spurt of blood sprouting from their chest. Kestrel didn’t bother to watch him fall, instead focusing on catching up to the train itself and getting some cover.

A scattering of gunfire burst out from the other side of the train, and Kestrel’s blood ran cold when she heard Silvie cry out. She saw the silver pegasus stumble below the bridge and out of sight of the soldier’s guns, blood dripping from a grazing wound across her shoulder, and vigorously shaking her head. Kestrel flew a little closer, but Silver quickly regained her composure and waved her off. Then, clutching her revolver in her teeth, she flew back up to return the fire.

Silver is Grazed and suffers a -1 penalty to Healthiness until her wounds can be treated.

Kestrel flew back up as well, using the slight left turn of the bridge to fly ahead a few cars. She saw Silver spin about to shoot back at a soldier wielding a repeater in his magic, only for the stallion to duck behind a crate and dodge the bullet. Unfortunately for him, that left his back exposed to Kestrel, and a single bullet pierced his spine and sent him tumbling to the floor, choking on his blood. Silver looked up and shared a nod with Kestrel, then resumed her flight up to the front of the train.

Kestrel turned her eyes forward as well—she’d flown about three cars forward, with only four to go before she got to the engine. The next one in front of her was armored, and she nearly forgot about the Chatter guns sticking out of the side until she saw one move out of her periphery. She opened her wings to dump speed and fall back moments before the operator fired a hail of lead out the window, and she instead swooped beneath the train to move up while staying out of the line of fire. She popped back up ahead of the armored car, only to feel a biting pain strike deep into her leg. Crying out in pain, Kestrel tumbled back as she momentarily forgot to flap her wings, but managed to catch herself before she drifted too far back.

Kestrel is Significantly Injured and suffers a -2 penalty to Healthiness until her wounds can be treated.

A soldier leaned out over the edge of the train, rifle in his wings. His feathers pulled the bolt back and ejected the spent cartridge, but before he could shoot again, a bullet went clean through his head and his body tumbled to the earth below like so much dead weight. Though wincing from the shot to her haunch, Kestrel once more managed to push back up to the train car and out of the danger zone of the Chatter guns behind her.

Another gunshot rang out over the train car, but this time pointed in Silver’s direction. Silver saw it coming, however, and managed to spin away from the shot without harm. Kestrel took the opportunity to shoot the soldier in the side, and when he fell to the ground writhing in pain, she fired a second shot to finish him off.

The train rumbled and rattled as it made it to the far end of the bridge, the dry desert dust rising up to meet the rails. Kestrel cursed as she gained some altitude and tried to move over one of the closed cars for a little bit of cover. They couldn’t fly beneath the train anymore, and so the soldiers left on board would have an easier shot. Hopefully there weren’t too many more…

But the train seemed to slow down some after crossing the bridge. Whether the engineer was no longer in a frantic hurry to outrun the bandits as only two pegasi had pursued him across the gap, or whether the engine itself was overheating, Kestrel couldn’t tell. But with a burst of speed, she and Silver leaped forward all the way to the front of the train, even as soldiers below tried to fire up at them. Bullets whizzed back and forth between outlaws and army, but no hits were scored, and Kestrel quickly holstered her first revolver and drew her second as it ran out of ammunition.

Yet the engine was all but below them now, and Kestrel wasted no time jumping down into the coal car. Her injured leg slipped out from under her as she hit the coal, sending her tumbling down the black rocks before coming to a dusty stop at the bottom of the car. Silvie hopped down after her, and the engineer whipped his head around in shock as the two outlaws closed in on him.

“Stop the damn train!” Kestrel shouted at him, revolver raised. “Stop it or you’re a dead stallion!”

Does the engineer recognize Kestrel? Yes

But the engineer just gave her a curious look. “Do I… I know you!”

Kestrel stepped closer, the revolver never once pointing away from his head. “Do it!”

The engineer gulped and turned around, yanking down on the brakes and powering down the steam engine. Kestrel’s ears flattened against her head as the wheels squealed on the rails, and she and Silver both staggered forward as the train began to bleed speed. But shouting behind them turned their attention away, and Kestrel knew the rest of the soldiers would be on them in a second. “Get ready, Silvie!” she shouted, moving to one end of the engine while Silvie took the other side. “We got company!”

The first soldier to appear was a pegasus flying over the coal car, but Kestrel put a bullet through his ribs before he could even take aim. Silver leaned out the right side of the engine and gunned down a unicorn trying to make his way to the front, her revolver firing twice before she tossed it away in frustration and drawing her spare. A bullet pinged off of the metal near Silver’s head, sending her ducking for cover, and when Kestrel tried to cover her, the soldier pulled back out of sight. A rifle round bulged the metal next to Kestrel’s head inwards, and she cursed and drew back to safety. But by this point, Silver had drawn her next revolver and taken aim, and that unicorn fell with two shots to the neck.

Kestrel took a breath to steady her heart and glanced at the engineer, who merely cowered as far back in the compartment as he could manage. Confident he wasn’t about to try anything, Kestrel leaned back out around the metal wall and at a pony about to line Silver in his sights. Though she missed the snapshot, the grazing shot was enough to ruin the soldier’s aim, and he staggered back as he shot. The bullet ricocheted off of the engine and buried itself somewhere in the coal, and Silver quickly shot at him as he stumbled back. He cried out as the bullet buried itself in his ribs, and his blood soon began to turn the coal dust coating his chest and legs into a brown slurry.

But there was one more soldier, and Kestrel didn’t see her until it was too late.

A pegasus officer with hair that looked like a rainbow come down to the earth fluttered up from behind the train. In her mouth was a gilded black iron revolver, and she snapped her head over to Kestrel and fired before she could react. Kestrel’s eyes bulged as the bullet struck her in the gut, and she slumped back against the engine controls as she clutched the wound. The pain was so intense, she could hardly move, and her vision went blurry.

Kestrel is Critically Injured and suffers a -4 penalty to Healthiness until her wounds can be treated.

“No!” Silver screamed as she watched Kestrel slouch back, and she desperately fired off several shots at the rainbow-maned pegasus. But the pegasus was quick, so quick that Silver found her difficult to track, and the bullets went wide. They spun about and fired a shot back at Silver that struck her in the foreleg, making her cry out in pain and lose her focus.

Silver is Significantly Injured and suffers a -2 penalty to Healthiness until her wounds can be treated.

But as the officer stopped for the kill shot, Kestrel barely managed to snatch her revolver off the ground with her wing and fire all the lead she had left in it. Two of the bullets managed to catch the officer unawares, one striking her leg and causing her to slip on the coal pile, while the other tore a chunk of blue feathers from her wing. Cursing, the officer stood up before Silver could take a shot at her, flung herself out of the coal pile, and took wing. She dashed off so quickly it almost looked like she left a rainbow trail behind her, and the few shots Silver fired in her direction failed to bring her down.

Then all was quiet once more, and Silver immediately turned her attention back to Kestrel. “Oh my Celestia, Kessie, no!” Silver cried out, pressing her hooves to the wound in Kestrel’s gut. “C’mon, you’re gonna be alright, you’re gonna be fine Kessie, c’mon, c’mon…”

Kestrel tried to say something, but it hurt too much to form the words. Instead, she put her hoof on Silver’s shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. As bad as it was, she had no intention of having Celestia judge her soul today. She’d cling on, and that was that.

Silver snapped her head over to the engineer, who stood awkwardly to the side. “Get some fuckin’ rags or somethin’!” she screeched at him, and she pointed her revolver in his direction. “Do it or I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

“There’s… t-there’s medicine in one of the cars!” he cried out, hopping back from the engine. But he still hesitated going back, his eyes lingering on Kestrel’s face. Kestrel thought there was something familiar about them… but it was too difficult for her to think about what at the moment. “Is… is her name Kestrel?”

“Don’t ask questions,” Silver growled at him. “They’re bad for your health!” To emphasize her point, she put the revolver in his direction again, and he finally scurried off.

Silver turned back to Kestrel and hung her head. “Oh gosh, oh Celestia, what am I gonna do?”

Stay with Kestrel and treat her wounds. Oh, Celestia, she’s hurt so bad! I-I don’t know if she’ll make it, but she’s gotta, right?

Go look for medical supplies with the engineer. What she really needs right now are some bandages and maybe a healin’ potion. She’ll have a better chance if I help the engineer find one. The army’s gotta have some of those now, right? R-Right?

Go and get the Gang. Kessie needs the rest of the Gang here, and we need to get this thing unloaded, fast! Who knows how long we have before that officer that shot her gets help, and if we’re still here, we’ll both be dead!

Chase down the officer. The engineer can take care of Kestrel, he seems to recognize her… I-I think. But I can’t let that pegasus get away!

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

There were a lot of rolls that had to be performed in this chapter, so to avoid creating quote box clutter, I'm not putting them all in. However, you can verify that they were all determined through dice rolls in my Discord server; they're all listed right there. Going forward, I will be doing the same for any other combats to not break immersion and keep the chapter flowing smoothly.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18294648

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 28

Go look for medical supplies with the engineer: 39%

There wasn’t any sense chasing the pegasus down; Silver swiftly realized that much. Much as she wanted to get revenge for Kessie, much as she wanted to stop the last witness from getting away and reporting the robbery, she knew she’d never be able to catch her. Not when she was hurt as she was. Besides, she didn’t want to leave Kestrel alone with the engineer. He seemed like he knew her, and she didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She didn’t want to leave that up to fate.

“Hold on,” she said to Kestrel, her voice wavering. She tore her bandana off of her neck and pressed it over Kestrel’s wound, then put the gunslinger’s hooves over it. “Just… hold that, okay?” she told her. “Don’t let it go, now.”

Kestrel chuckled, though it was more of a wheezing cough. “I know what to do when you get shot,” she gasped. “Don’t worry none. Didn’t shoot my lungs…”

Silver was at least thankful for that; there wasn’t any blood on Kestrel’s lips, so she could at least breathe fine. Still, a gut wound untreated would be the end of the gunslinger, no matter how tough she may be. “I’m gonna find you some potions,” Silver said. “We’re gonna get you back on your hooves, alright?”

“Go, then,” Kestrel said, waving her off with a wing. “I’ll make sure nopony steals the train while you’re gone…”

Silver found herself snickering at the joke despite herself; now really wasn’t the time for this! So, gulping, she spun about and fluttered back over the coal cars, revolvers in their holsters. She didn’t know how many shots she had left in the one; the other was completely empty. Hopefully she wouldn’t need more bullets than she had. It all depended on how trustworthy the engineer was.

She found him nosing around the crates in the first car, squinting at the small stenciled letters to discern their contents. He jumped when he heard Silver land nearby, and he roughly cleared his throat. “I-I’m looking in these cars as best I can, Miss,” he said, moving to the next crate. “I don’t know how the military organized these things, I just take them south and drop them off at Fort Harmony. There’s gotta be something here, though. The soldiers are always getting in skirmishes with buffalo and Abyssinians.”

“Right,” Silver said, moving to the other end of the car and beginning to tear through the crates. She didn’t bother spending time to read the contents; she just jammed her knife under the lids and pried them open one by one. The crates she went through were largely weapon parts for the military’s rifles, though she did manage to pop open a crate filled with brand new double-action revolvers, likely meant for the officers. Another long crate yielded a brass cannon barrel, though the carriage was nowhere to be seen. Not that it would have mattered much, anyway; the cannon would be too heavy of a piece to remove and bring back to camp, and what would the Gang do with it, anyway? Artillery was useless dead weight to a band of outlaws always on the run. She did however find a box full of scoped rifles. Those would be useful; the Gang didn’t have any working scopes, and so long-distance shooting was an impossibility for them.

“Ain’t no medicine in here,” Silver grumbled. She wheeled on the engineer, who was looking back toward the engine worriedly. “Hey!” she snapped, catching his attention. “Ain’t you got a shipping manifest or somethin’? Better than lookin’ through all these crates one after another!”

“There’s probably one in the caboose,” the engineer said. “Officer Dash, she was the one in charge of this shipment. She’d have the papers.”

“I think I’ll take a look, then,” Silver said, spreading her wings. “Keep lookin’. I’ll know if you run.”

With that threat, she flapped her wings and hopped over the rest of the rail cars until she made it to the back. The armored door to the caboose was still slightly ajar, and Silver thanked her lucky stars for that. If that Officer Dash had locked it up before fleeing, then she didn’t know how she was going to get inside. She shouldered the door open with a grunt and found herself standing in what almost looked like a cramped office instead of an officer’s lounge. Maybe the officer liked to keep busy; at any rate, Silver needed to find the manifest, so she began to dig through the drawers until she finally found it.

Her wingtips quickly separated the pages so she could look at them at a glance. Each page seemed to be tied to the contents of a single car; it looked like the first car behind the coal car was meant for upgrading the garrison of Fort Harmony. The car behind that was filled with basic supplies, along with the next two cars. Silver wondered just how large this Fort Harmony was supposed to be with all the supplies and material being sent their way. There was a listing for the armored Chatter gun car detailing its four water-cooled machine guns and all the ammunition supplied for each. Maybe taking a Chatter gun or two out of the train would be helpful in case this brought trouble down on their heads. What was she thinking; of course there would be trouble coming after them. That officer had seen her and Kessie, and it wouldn’t be long before the posters began to appear.

The last two cars caught Silver’s eye. One was just listed as ‘GARRISON SUPPLIES’ instead of a detailed listing of its contents, and the other said ‘GARRISON PAYROLL—MAY/JUNE’. That was good; there was cash on the train, so they wouldn’t have to find some way to exchange all their haul for money. How much, she couldn’t say, but two month’s payroll for a fort garrison had to be a pretty penny…

But she could tear through the payroll car later. Right now, she needed to go find something to treat Kessie’s wounds, and since she was at the back of the train, she decided to start with the car that only said ‘GARRISON SUPPLIES’ in its listing. There had to be something there, right?

It was a covered car instead of a flat bed, and both sides were stacked high with smaller crates, definitely too small to be weapons. She pried one crate out of its place and opened the lid, and she blinked in surprise at the glass vials stuffed in hay and cloth. She gingerly lifted one out, grabbing the top of the bottle in her teeth, and spat it out into her outstretched wings. It wasn’t a healing potion, unfortunately; it was something else. “C3H5N3O9,” Silver read the inscription aloud, frowning at it. She only recognized it a chemical formula, but when she spun it around and read the opposite side of the bottle, her heart jumped into her throat. “Nitroglycerin!”

She gulped and put it back in the crate with the other bottles. Chemistry may have been beyond her, but she knew what Nitroglycerin was. One wrong shake and the entire crate could blow up in an instant. There were runes on the sides of the crate that glowed faintly; she supposed those were keeping it stable for now. Carefully putting the lid back on, Silver slowly pushed it away so she wouldn’t accidentally trip on it. When she looked up and down the walls, she saw many more crates covered in similarly glowing runes, and she felt her stomach clench. One wrong shot and they could have accidentally blown up the entire car…

Is Silver able to find medicine in this car? Yes

Steering well clear of the crates containing who only knew what, Silver began to unpack the crates without runes printed into them. She found rations for the soldiers as well as fresh and salted food for the fort’s kitchens, but her wings began to twitch in excitement when she found a crate full of bandages and gauze. She immediately dug out the other crates near it, and she squealed in joy when she found a crate of large, red potions. There were only three inside, and when she pulled one out, she saw a red cross on it and the words ‘HEALING TONIC – EXTRA POTENT – MAGIC INFUSED’ printed across the label. Without a moment’s hesitation, she cradled one against her chest and darted back to the front of the engine, surprising the engineer as he started to move from the second car to the third.

She fluttered to a stop directly in front of Kestrel and pulled the cork out with her teeth. “Drink!” she commanded, spitting the cork aside and putting the bottle to Kestrel’s lips. She held the bottle in place while Kestrel tilted her head back, and she took it away when the gunslinger began to cough. Her eyes widened in worry, but Kestrel soon let a stream of curses fly from her lips.

“Celestia damn fuckin’ shit!” she swore, wiping her lips. “It tastes like rancid cherries!”

Silver sighed and relaxed, even managing a slight giggle. “Nopony ever said that the waters of life have to taste good,” she said.

“Think I’d rather die than drink more of that swill,” Kestrel teased back.

Kestrel has temporarily regained 3 Healthiness from the potion’s effects.

Kestrel rolls to stabilize: Success

Kestrel rolls to immediately improve her injured status: Fail

Kestrel is now Stabilized but remains Critically Injured. She is in no risk of dying so long as she does not suffer additional damage. Rest and medicine will slowly restore her status to normal.

The gunslinger tried to sit upright, but winced in pain and slouched back against the engine controls. “Gotta get that bullet outta me when we get back to camp,” she grunted. “Ain’t gonna be able to do much ‘til then.” When she took the bandana off of her gut, at the very least, it seemed like the bleeding had nearly completely stopped, all save for the tiniest trickle as the potion began to work its magic.

“Just get your rest,” Silver told her. “The Gang’s comin’, and we’ll get you back to camp.”

“Sounds… sounds like a plan,” Kestrel said, and she closed her eyes. “Think I’ll just… catch a nap.”

She soon drifted off, leaving Silver to watch the slow rise and fall of her chest. Hoofsteps approached as she did so, and she warily looked over her shoulder to see the engineer lingering off to the side. “Is she… will she be okay?” he asked Silver.

“Yeah, I think so,” Silver said, glancing back at Kestrel. “The potion stopped most of the bleedin’. Still gotta get the bullet out.”

That seemed to relieve the engineer some. “Thank Celestia, then.”

“Hey, what’s your deal?” Silver asked him, narrowing her eyes. “I woulda thought most ponies would be happy to see the outlaws takin’ down their train die.”

“Well… maybe most,” he said. But he pointed a hoof in Kestrel’s direction. “But I recognize her. Her name is Kestrel, right?”

Silver reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, don’t see what that means to you. Wait…” Memories came back to her, and she hesitantly stepped a bit closer to the engineer. “Is you a pony named Highball?”

Is the engineer’s name Highball? Yes

Slowly, the engineer nodded. “I am,” he said. “Did she… she tell you about me?”

“The other day, yeah,” Silver said. “I just…” She sat down on the edge of the train in shock. “Here you are, and here we are, robbin’ your train, and I just…” She shook her head in disbelief.

Highball managed a chuckle. “Funny how the world works, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.” But then Silver looked to the north, where the rail lines went across the bridge and back to the canyon. The Gang would be coming soon, and she didn’t know what they would do with Highball if they found him. His life, she realized, may very well be in her hooves.

Silver’s high Honor prevents her from considering killing Highball in cold blood.

Make him stay. Tumbleweed knows him, so he might be nice to him. But what about Rough and Snapshot? And even still, it’s been so long since he and Highball met, he might not give him the warm welcome I’m expectin’…

Get him to hide. We ain’t gonna be able to take the whole train, so if he stows away someplace until we take all we want, he can go and bring what’s left back to Rock Ridge. Might make the government go easier on us, and it might make him a hero to them who owes us a debt.

Chase him off. He’ll have a better chance makin’ it if I let him run. Stayin’ with us is too dangerous, and if he runs, maybe he can get back to town in one piece. Just hope he don’t run into any Viper ponies along the way…

Decouple the engine and let him flee with it. It’ll give him the best chance of gettin’ back to Rock Ridge alive, though the sheriff might be suspicious if he gets away like that. But on the other hoof, nopony will be able to steal the train from us if it don’t have an engine.

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

I was worried you guys were going to make Silver chase down the officer who suspiciously shares every appearance with Rainbow Dash, while injured. But the tie-breaking 46th vote went to #2, so we got this chapter instead.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18315501

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 29

Make Highball stay: 42%

Silver sighed and pulled out her revolvers. Highball winced and drew back, unsure of what she intended, but she popped open the cylinders and deftly fed a fresh load of bullets into the chambers. She gave each one a good spin to test the oil and the action before snapping them closed and tucking them away in her holsters. Finally, she gestured vaguely off to her side. “Sit,” she told him. “Gotta wait for the rest of the Gang to turn up.”

Though Highball hesitated, he ultimately did as bid, keeping a comfortable distance between him and this armed stranger. Still, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Kestrel. “You part of her gang, then?”

“Nah, I’m just the milkmare.” Silver snickered and nodded. “Kessie took me under her wing a few months back. I threw away a life of luxury so I could be a gunslinger. Call me stupid, I ain’t gonna mind. Probably what I am.”

She could tell by the faint expression on Highball’s face that he was thinking about it, but he still had the worry—or common sense—to not rise to the bait of an armed outlaw. “She still with Tumbleweed?”

“Tumbleweed’s our leader,” Silver said. “It’s more than just him and Kessie these days.”

“I always figured he’d build a posse in time, assuming the law didn’t get him first.”

“They’re tryin’,” Silvie said with a wink. “We just crossed the San Palomino to get away from the Pinks. Though considerin’ how bad we botched this job, ain’t gonna be long ‘fore the Pinks are back on us.”

“If you’ll pardon me for saying it, then I’m glad that your mare with the dynamite botched the toss,” Highball said. “Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be here now.”

“Yeah, guess that worked out well in the end.” Silver looked the train engine up and down. “Kessie told me you went north when you got bought out. What you doin’ all the way down here on a military train?”

Highball shrugged. “Company closed down. The Apples, they buy companies up and then prune off the dead weight. Their conglomerate wants to own Equestria’s food supply from top to bottom. That means the fields that grow the food, the factories that process it, the trains that ship it, and the markets that sell it. But to do that, they have to be efficient. My company got merged with another, and then they shed all the ponies they figured they didn’t need. I was one of them.”

Silver felt bad for him in her heart, but she tried her best to not let it show. She was an outlaw, and outlaws had to be feared and respected for other ponies to take them seriously. “Didn’t you have brothers who needed your pay?”

“They’re grown now—mostly,” Highball said. “They can look after themselves. Me, I just took whatever job I could get. Army needs contractors, and I may have been a conductor, but army engineer pays more.”

“Well,” Silver said with a chuckle. “Be glad that we’re the ones who robbed you and not the Vipers.”

“That another gang here?” Highball asked. “I’ve only run the route a few times, and we don’t stay in Rock Ridge that long.”

Silver nodded. “They’re vicious and mean. We only ran into them briefly, but we fought over a take. There’s more of ‘em than us, so we’re tryin’ to steer clear.”

“I see.” Highball let out a sigh of relief, perhaps realizing how much worse the day’s ordeals could have been. “My wife is going to be happy about that. She wasn’t keen on me contracting with the army, but bills have to be paid and food’s gotta be put on the table, so…”

He looked over to see Silver giving him a surprised look. “Your… wife?” she asked.

Highball’s eyes darted away from Silver, only to settle on Kestrel. His cheeks flushed a faint red, and he found an interesting cactus to look at instead. “Yeah… guess Kestrel told you how things… things ended between us…”

The sound of hooves drumming over flat desert ground perked Silver’s ears, and she drew both her revolvers on instinct as she hopped to her hooves. “Tumbleweed?” she shouted, tensing in anticipation of who would round the corner of the coal car and step into her line of fire.

It wasn’t Tumbleweed, but Roughshod’s broad shoulders and huge frame were unmistakable for anypony else. “Silver?” he growled, and Silvie couldn’t help but notice the edge of surprise in his voice. No doubt he figured she and Kestrel would be dead after chasing the train by themselves. He gripped his revolver between his teeth, and Silver found herself staring down the barrel for just a moment before he lowered it and tilted his head toward Highball. “You ain’t killed this bastard yet?”

Highball shrank back, but Silver hopped off the engine and put herself between the two stallions. “He surrendered,” she told him, holstering her revolvers once more. “Kestrel got shot bad, and he was helpin’ me look for a potion to help her.”

Roughshod glanced over her shoulder, and his brow lowered when he saw Kestrel passed out against the engine controls. “Bitch ain’t dead? Damn. I was hopin’ she’d bite it when she chased the train.”

Silver bristled and her feathers puffed out some along her wings in indignation, but she quickly remembered who she was dealing with. Roughshod and Kestrel didn’t like each other, but they had a grudging respect for each other’s abilities. “We wasn’t gonna let it get away,” she growled back. “You should be happy we got it stopped. Where’s the others?”

“Comin’,” Roughshod said, and he finally holstered his revolver. He pointed back the way he came. “In fact, here the boss is now.”

It took a few seconds more, but Tumbleweed finally caught up to them, red in the face and his neck slick with sweat. He took a moment to rest against the car and catch his breath before looking around. “Well I’ll be,” he said, a smirk momentarily taking shape across his muzzle. “I didn’t think you two had it in you.”

Silver smiled back, then grunted and winced when her injured foreleg shot a stab of pain up to her shoulder. “Took a few hits, but we stopped it. Kessie’s hurt though. You got the wagons?”

“I put Kestrel’s recent disappointments to work haulin’ them over,” Tumbleweed said. “Snapshot’s makin’ sure they don’t screw that one up, too. I had half a mind to toss them off the bridge, but when I saw you stopped the train, I figured they could be useful for somethin’.”

Then he turned his eyes to Highball, who until now had remained quiet. His jaw hung slightly agape, and it seemed like it took him a few seconds to realize that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. “Highball?” he finally asked. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Army pays better than Apples,” Highball said, nervously smiling. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Tumbleweed held out his hoof, and Highball gingerly shook it. “I wish we had time to chat and catch up, I really do, old friend. But we need to liberate you of your cargo and send you on your way.” He turned back to Silver. “Did you and Kessie take care of everypony on the train?”

Silver cringed as she shook her head. “The officer got away. Officer Dash, I think Highball called her.” She looked at Highball for confirmation and the engineer nodded.

Does Tumbleweed know who Officer Dash is? No

Tumbleweed frowned at the desert sands, then at Silver, then finally at Kestrel. “That’s gonna come back to haunt us,” he finally said. “She knows your faces. Still, Rock Ridge is an hour’s flight from here. We have time before she gets there, organizes a posse, and flies back.”

Does Highball know more about the officer? Yes

“Not as much time as you think,” Highball said. “That Officer Dash, she’s a first lieutenant in the Equestrian Royal Army. She reports directly to Captain Spitfire of the Equestrian Air Legions. She’s a young officer, but she’s already got an outsized name for herself. She’s one of the fastest pegasi I’ve ever seen, if not the fastest in Equestria.”

“Everypony claims they’re the fastest at some point or another,” Tumbleweed said, dismissively.

“Not this one. They say she can do a Sonic Rainboom.”

Tumbleweed faltered slightly. “Is that so?”

Highball nodded.

Still, Tumbleweed remained unconvinced. “You ever see her do it?”

“Not me, but I know ponies who say they have.”

Silver looked back and forth between the two stallions, growing more restless. She, like every pegasus, knew just how fast you had to be to break the sound barrier. And while her military dress and gear would slow her down some, the fact that this Rainbow Dash could fly that fast… “We need to get goin’,” Silver said. “She could be back much faster than we think.”

“The wagons are comin’,” Tumbleweed said. “Did you find anythin’ good on the train?”

Silver nodded. “Payroll, supplies, and weapons. Nitroglycerin, too.”

The three stallions all raised their eyebrows. “Nitroglycerin?” Roughshod asked. He whistled and shook his head. “Glad we didn’t blow the bridge, then.”

“The lieutenant didn’t say we’d be carrying cargo like that…” Highball muttered to himself.

Tumbleweed, for his part, merely nodded. “We ain’t leavin’ without the payroll at the least,” he said. “It should be easiest to move, and we ain’t goin’ back to camp with empty hooves. Silvie, you looked through the train, so you’d know best; what should we move before company finds us?”

Only the payroll. We ain’t got enough time to get more than we can fit on a wagon and get away with. We clean the train out of its payroll, throw Kessie in the wagon, and leave the other behind for now, we can get outta here before that Rainbow Dash pony returns with a posse to gun us down. That ain’t a fight we gonna win if Kessie’s too hurt to help.

Take both the payroll and raid the nitro car. Nitroglycerin might not be the only thing in that supplies car I went through. I found healin’ potions there; who knows what else we could find? Might be invaluable things we ain’t gonna get our hooves on anywhere else. [GAIN SUPPLY: NITROGLYCERIN]

Take the payroll and empty the weapons car. Chatter guns, though heavy and hard to move about, could really help protect camp. We could also put one on a wagon if we needed a little offensive firepower, but it’ll take several ponies to get it removed from the armored car so we ain’t lootin’ much else while we’re at it. [CAMP DEFENSE UPGRADE]

Supplies above all else. This train is stuffed with goods and supplies meant for Fort Harmony, but we should take ‘em for ourselves instead. Good supplies mean we don’t have to risk goin’ into town if we’re wanted, and we’ll have plenty to survive off of in case we gotta flee camp. Plus, it might lift spirits some, especially if there’s booze involved. [GANG MORALE +1]

Loot everything we can. We’ll almost certainly get caught by a posse comin’ back to reclaim the train, but the officer only saw two of us try and take it. She might underestimate how many of us there are now that the rest of the Gang’s here, and we could win a shootout. [VERY HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

It certainly took a while to get to 45 votes this time around, and I'm not sure if that's through reader attrition or people becoming busier than usual. At any rate, I've backed the vote confidence down some to hopefully make things go faster for next chapter. I'll see if I need to adjust it again later.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18380552

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 31

Let him run: 40%

Tumbleweed blew air through parted lips and looked around the desert, at the still sands baking under the sun. “I’d get runnin’, if I was you,” he said. “Law’ll come lookin’ for us ‘fore too long. You might run into ‘em. If you take the train, well, they’re gonna think you’re an accomplice.”

Highball swallowed and nervously looked over his shoulder. “Didn’t you say there were Vipers around here? What if I run into them?”

“Then run faster,” Roughshod growled. “They don’t seem like the prisoner-takin’ type.”

“In essence,” Tumbleweed said. “Just follow the rail tracks toward Rock Ridge. You’ll make it, I’m sure.”

“Alright… if you say so.” Highball looked down the tracks, two gleaming rails of sandy steel stitching the blue sky and yellow earth together. “It was… good seeing you again, Tumbleweed,” he said, bowing his head. “And if Kessie—Kestrel wants to talk when she’s feeling better, I think I’ll be in town for a little bit. Celestia knows the sheriff’s gonna want to run me through the wringer and find out who did this.”

Tumbleweed let out an amused snort. “They ask, you just say them Vipers did it. They’re already a big enough pain in the town’s side. Sheriff’ll believe it in a second.” He waved a hoof and nodded toward Kestrel. “I’ll pass the offer on to Kessie when she wakes up.”

Highball nodded one more time, his eyes lingering on Kestrel. One last look at the rest of the Gang, including Roughshod’s scowling face, however, set him quickly shuffling away from the train. That shuffle turned into a gallop, and soon the engineer was a quickly shrinking figure along the rails.

With that settled, Tumbleweed turned to Sienna and Trixie, his brow lowering in displeasure. “You two let us down today,” he said, making them shrink back. Trixie looked uncomfortable, like a filly being scolded for raiding the cookie jar, while Sienna seemed more like she was about to curl up in a ball and cry. After a moment, Tumbleweed shook his head and turned to Roughshod. “Take the unicorn’s place,” he told him. “Two earth ponies’ll get this wagon moving back to camp faster.”

“What about the wagon on the other side of the ravine?” Roughshod asked.

“We’ll leave it for now, come back and get it in a few days,” Tumbleweed said. “Even if we lose it, it don’t matter none. We got enough gold to buy a thousand wagons if we want.”

Though Roughshod grunted and glowered at the wagon and the mares on it, he nevertheless stripped the harness off of Trixie and threw it over his shoulders. As he hitched himself up, he shot Sienna a predatory grin. “Looks like it’s me and you again, little lady,” he said. “All tied up nice and close-like…”

Silver scowled at him. “Leave the poor lass alone, Shod.”

“I ain’t touchin’ her none,” Roughshod said with a chuckle. He leered at Sienna as he added, “Yet.”

“Enough,” Tumbleweed said, and he gave the train one last look over. “Let’s get goin’. Longer we linger here, longer we’ll get caught by somepony nasty. Silvie, fly on out, circle from up high. Make sure nothin’ sneaks up on us on our way back.”

Silver nodded and spread her wings. “On it, Boss.” With a wash of warm air, Silver’s feathers fanned at the ground, and she rose into the air like a gleaming angel, quickly leaving the Gang below and behind her.

Finding a comfortable thermal to rest her wings on, Silver began to circle around the wagon, now just a little speck far below her. From up here, she could see clearly across the flat desert for miles, and when she pulled the brim of her hat down over her eyes to shade them from the sun, there wasn’t a rattlesnake in the desert that could slither about without her seeing it. She took her time going in circles, scrutinizing every little feature of the country around her, wary for ponies hiding in the rocks or waiting beyond a ridge to jump the wagon down below.

Does Silver see anything concerning? No

It took near three hours to get the loaded wagon back to camp, and Silver saw not a soul for all three of those hours. The desert was hot, hazy, and abandoned. With the sun scorching down on the sands from above, Silver wasn’t too surprised that nopony else was wandering this remote stretch of land, so far from town. Only bandits and murderers roamed the desert at this hour, and that meant it was a good time to be an outlaw.

Silver giggled to herself as she began to circle down toward camp. Being an outlaw was such a more rewarding life than being one of the plantation aristocracy. At least out here, she got to do what she wanted, dress how she wanted, and live like she wanted, and nopony could tell her otherwise. She wondered if her Pa was still looking for her, but she didn’t much care.

Her wings trembled as she landed in the camp, feathers shedding sweat in cloudy rivulets that picked up the dust clinging to the vanes. Miss Irons looked up from the cookfire as she returned and noted the dried blood sticking to her clothes. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed, rising from her seat and cantering over to Silver. “You’re shot! What happened? Where are the others?”

“Train heist didn’t go as planned,” Silver said, shrugging her shoulder. Now that Miss Irons pointed it out, the throbbing pain came back to her wound. “Had to get a little creative, but it was worth it. Tumbleweed and the rest of ‘em are comin’ up with a wagon full of army gold.”

The elder mare’s eyes widened slightly. “Army gold? How much?”

“Thirty-four thousand,” Silver said with a proud rise of her chin. “Ain’t bad, right?”

“It’s just like Appleloosa all over again,” Miss Irons said with an incredulous shake of her head. She leaned forward and hugged Silver, a surprising yet brief embrace that was over almost before it began. Then her eyes narrowed. “Where is Kestrel?”

Silver’s ears dropped. “She got hurt bad,” she said. “She’s ridin’ with the wagon.”

Miss Irons pursed her lips. “Then I suppose I should prepare some bandages for the reckless girl, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably for the best,” Silver said, staggering toward the bucket of drinking water and taking several gulps. She felt like she had sand between her teeth and her tongue had been replaced by sandpaper; a long flight immediately after a frantic flight had a way of leaving a mare exhausted and dehydrated. But a few gulps of water solved that, and she happily walked back to the cookfire with water dripping down her chin.

No sooner had she taken a seat than she saw the Gang draw the wagon up the path leading into camp. Tumbleweed and Roughshod were singing a popular cavalry marching song Roughshod had picked up from his time in the Army, and made all the more fitting considering who they had just robbed. Though Snapshot kept his mouth shut (not like Silver expected him to join in song either), his normally taut shoulders and stiff neck were relaxed, and he bobbed his head along with the marching beat. Trixie looked like she wanted to join in, if only she knew the words, while Sienna looked like she couldn’t wait to find a hole to crawl into and never show her face to the world again.

Silver chuckled and stood up, joining Tumbleweed and Roughshod in song. What a merry band of outlaws they all were, returning to camp with a mighty haul!

“We’re rich!” Tumbleweed shouted as he hopped off the wagon, and Roughshod and Sienna quickly unharnessed themselves once they parked it off to the side. “Let’s get this thing unloaded, and then it’s time for celebration!”

Silver grinned and hopped to her hooves. A celebration was exactly what they needed after all they’d been through today.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Army Train Robbery Summary:

The Gang’s Morale has improved following the successful robbery of the Equestrian Army train

The robbery of an Army train is sure to grab the attention of higher authorities. Law Attention has increased by 1 to 2 (Moderate).

Kestrel has gained honor for helping Trixie with her show (+5)

Trixie and Sienna have both disappointed Tumbleweed in their first mission. Tumbleweed’s concern for Kestrel’s instincts has Increased.

The Camp has acquired a Chatter Gun to upgrade its defenses.

The Gang has acquired numerous Scoped Rifles to upgrade their offensive capabilities.

Kestrel remains Critically Injured but stable; Silver Wings is Significantly Injured and stable.

Officer Rainbow Dash has seen the faces of Kestrel and Silver Wings and placed a local bounty on them.

Half of the haul has been safely stashed, with the Gang splitting the remaining half based on contribution in the attack. Kestrel and Silver received 2500 bits each, while Sienna received none.

Total Take: $34,000

Gang Savings: $17,147

Camp Morale: Great

Law Attention: 2 (Moderate)

Kestrel’s Honor: +15

Kestrel’s Local Bounty: $500

Author's Note

No poll for this chapter.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 32

Kestrel awoke some time later with fire in her gut and a pounding in her skull. It took her some time to realize where she was—the last thing she remembered was the sun on her face, the scalding heat of the train’s furnace on her back, and the face of a familiar stallion in front of her. Was he… no, that was impossible. Her head hurt too much to think clearly.

But she recognized the canvas of the lean-to over her head, and her nose twitched at the familiar scent of camp and her bedding. The stars were coming out, so she knew that she’d been out cold for a long time, and when she forced herself to sit upright, she noticed the bandages around her midsection. The Gang must have taken her back to camp and removed the bullet in her gut, letting the potions work on stitching her back together. She already felt slightly more alive, if still dizzy and light between her ears.

Kestrel has recovered 1 point of Healthiness from rest and letting the potion work. She is now Seriously Injured.

Shadows flickered across the flat ground of the campsite, accompanied to laughter and hollering. Kestrel winced and placed a hoof against her temple as she looked toward the fire, where the silhouettes of her companions sat around the blaze, bottles of booze between them. Wanderer had returned from Rock Ridge, and Kestrel could tell just by the way he moved his wings and hooves that he was in the middle of another of his legendary tales, no doubt coaxed out of him with alcohol. They were celebrating the take, that much was obvious, and Kestrel figured it had to be good if they were this happy. At least that meant almost dying was worth it.

“She’s awake. Finally.”

Kestrel grunted and angled her head to the left. Trixie sat on the back steps of her wagon, which she’d parked next to Kestrel’s lean-to, a bottle of beer floating in her magic. She looked cross, but then again, she always seemed cross—at least as far as Kestrel had briefly known her. But while everypony else enjoyed stories and drinks by the fire, Trixie sat alone. “Why ain’t you with the others?” Kestrel grunted, turning to face her.

“Trixie can tell when she’s not wanted,” Trixie muttered. She pressed the bottle to her lips and took several gulps, flinging the empty glass aside when she drained it all. The bottle shattered against a rock, filling the night with a gentle tinkling. “The showing in the canyon was not Trixie’s finest hour. Tumbleweed is very disappointed with her, Trixie can tell.” Her eyes settled on Kestrel’s. “And with you.”

Kestrel sighed, but she didn’t expect anything less. Tumbleweed was fiercely protective of the Gang, and he could be at times more cautious than Kestrel cared for. He never let the Gang grow large or quickly, and for good reason. When you lived your life only a tail hair ahead of the Law, any mistakes could get you killed. The mistakes of Trixie and Sienna today would not have been tolerated if Kestrel hadn’t stopped the train, and she knew it. Perhaps she should have been grateful that Tumbleweed hadn’t had her new recruits shot while she was out. “At least you tried to stop it with some dynamite.”

Trixie scoffed. “Trixie does not like that word. Tried. That’s the word of a failure. At least she got something from the robbery.” She touched a half-full bag of bits by her side. “Five hundred bits is more than what Trixie sees in a month, though she is jealous that they left you five times that number. At least she fares better than the coward; they gave her nothing.”

Kestrel blinked. “Coward? You talkin’ ‘bout Sienna?”

Trixie nodded. “She did nothing in the robbery. While Trixie tried to stop the train, she cowered under the wagon. Your friends made her drag the wagon full of Army gold all the way back here, but Trixie could feel their resentment. When they decided to celebrate, the big stallion chased her away to the other end of the camp.” After a moment to contemplate the empty space by her side, Trixie frowned and leaned back against the door of her wagon. “Trixie would not be surprised if she has already fled camp for good. That would be a shame. Unlike her, Trixie remembers quite vividly the veiled threats Tumbleweed made when he took her back to camp.”

“Yeah, for as much as they was ‘veiled.’” It was the same oath that Tumbleweed had gotten out of everypony in the Gang, and it kept them safe. “We had some mare a year back join us and cross us to the Law,” Kestrel said, shrugging her wings as she came back to the memory. “We killed the bounty hunters that came after us, then we killed her, too. We didn’t make it pretty or clean. She didn’t deserve pretty or clean.” She let piercing eyes fall on Trixie. “No matter how much the Law says they gonna pay you for our hides, you ain’t gonna live long enough to enjoy it ‘fore we getcha. Sweet lil’ Poinsettia, well, she found that out the hard way.”

Trixie’s eyes widened, but she swallowed her fear and surprise and replaced them with pointed disinterest. “Well, Trixie knows better than that. You can count on her to watch your back, so long as you watch hers.” She stood up and started toward the fire in the center of camp, but hesitated when she walked past Kestrel’s lean-to. “Trixie already has, actually. It was she who pulled the bullet out of your stomach.”

That was news to Kestrel. “You don’t say?”

“I do,” Trixie said, blowing a sweaty bang out of her eye. “And I hope that means something if Tumbleweed decides he’s disappointed with my contributions to your little family. After all, he stresses that we are all a family now…”

She flicked her head back toward the campfire. “Whatever. Do you want something? Trixie can bring something back for you.”

Kestrel waved her off with a wing. “I’ll get up if I’m feelin’ like it.”

That caught Trixie off guard. “Are you sure? You should be resting, not walking around the campsite.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kestrel insisted. “Go and get somethin’. I’ll be up in a bit, I think. Maybe.”

Trixie scoffed and let her eyes wander to the young stars. “If you say so, Kestrel. Try not to tear open your stitches. Trixie will be the one who has to patch them back up again when you do.” Then she was gone, cape fluttering in her wake.

Kestrel watched her go, go until she seemed to meld into the crowd by the fire, if only for a moment. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pain in her gut. The night was young and full of possibilities, but that wound was there to remind her she wasn’t getting any younger. Even as she watched, the group began to separate into two or three little clusters of ponies, happily enjoying themselves and their alcohol in the afterglow of a successful day.

She wondered if she should join them.

Join Wanderer, Tumbleweed, Miss Irons, and Trixie by the fire. Wanderer is always the best at tellin’ stories. Half of ‘em ain’t true for sure, and the other half, I ain’t got a clue, but if there’s anyway to enjoy an evenin’, it’s sittin’ with him around the fire.

Join Silver and Snapshot by the scout fire. Silvie’s doin’ her best to get Snapshot to cut loose, looks like. Such an endeavor ain’t likely to work, but it’ll be funny to see her try.

Look for Sienna. Now where did that mare get off to? I ain’t seein’ her anywhere ‘round here…

Go to sleep. Roughshod’s already been through a few bottles of gin, and he’s practically snorin’ already. Maybe he’s got the right idea; I am hurt after all.

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18492708

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 33

Look for Sienna: 50%

Though Kestrel wanted to do nothing more but rest and recover, the issue of Sienna upset her stomach as much as the bullet in it had. She knew that she was the only one who had stuck up for Sienna, with maybe Silver as an exception, and for the past several hours, the ex-Viper had been without the closest thing she had to a protector in a hostile camp. Not to mention that Roughshod had apparently scared her away; it was little wonder why Sienna would flee from the festivities to be by herself.

But was she just by herself, or was there something more going on? That was the question Kestrel really needed to answer, and so she forced herself to her hooves, shaky as they were. She grimaced and bit down on her lip when a twist of her abdomen sent lances of pain shooting out from her gut, but she held herself upright with her wings as much as her legs and hazarded a deep breath. She could feel Trixie’s needlework tugging at her flesh, keeping her stomach inside of her while the last traces of the healing potion worked whatever magic they had left. It was a miracle Silver had found some; they’d likely fully fixed the hole in her stomach and cleaned out any sepsis that would have otherwise festered. Hopefully that meant she’d be ready to go in no time.

Though as her eyes scanned the campsite for a ruddy brown mare, Kestrel frowned and realized she might not have a few days to recover. “Damn it, Sienna,” she muttered under her breath, already fearing the worst. She snatched her holsters from her lean-to and reluctantly made sure the revolvers were loaded. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to use them, but it was always better to be prepared.

Thus equipped, Kestrel staggered away from her lean-to, sticking to the shadows at the edge of camp. She really didn’t want to be seen moving around by the rest of the Gang for fear they’d ask her what she was doing or simply try to drag her away from finding Sienna. This was her fault, she knew, and she was going to fix it herself. Of course, first she had to find the elusive mare—her coat was the same color of the rocks around the San Palomino, and if she didn’t want to be seen, it could be very difficult to find her.

She wasn’t in the camp, that much became clear after a while. Camouflage or no, there were only a few places a pony could reasonably hide in camp and still be far away from the campfires, and Kestrel checked them all. She did notice that some of their supplies were missing, along with a set of Snapshot’s saddlebags. Her eyes narrowed on the bare peg where Snapshot usually placed his gear. Sienna couldn’t be that stupid… right?

Rolling her shoulders, tight from sleeping so long in an awkward position, Kestrel began to limp down the trail leading away from camp and out into the desert. If Sienna wasn’t in camp, there was only one way she could have gone, as the rocks were too rough and steep above the lookout post for anything but a goat to climb. The gunslinger squinted at the ground, using the flickering firelight reflecting off the rocks to make out the hoofprints in the sand, and cursed to herself again when she saw a fresh set moving down the slope, breaking apart the wagon tracks moving up it. She didn’t know how fresh those prints were, but she hoped that she wouldn’t be too late.

The light faded away the further down the slope she stumbled. Soon, all she had to see by was the glow of the moon and a million pinpricks of light scattered across the heavens as the stars shone down on the desert. She could hear hooting and hollering from the camp up above, but that soon died away as she wound her way down the butte. Only when she finally reached the bottom did she see a small, trembling figure perched off to the side of the trail, staring out at the desert emptiness before her.

Is Sienna up to something? Yes

“Sienna?” Kestrel hacked as she forced words out of her scratchy throat. Sienna jumped into the air like a startled cat and spun around, the packed bags on her back throwing her off balance. Her hooves slid across the sand but she found her stance quickly enough, and Kestrel saw the glint of moonlight on steel by her shoulder. The earth pony was armed, though she hadn’t reached for her weapon yet.

Sienna shivered and backed up a few steps. “Kestrel! What’re you doin’? You’re… I thought you was sleepin’!”

“I was,” Kestrel admitted. “But I ain’t now.” She took a step forward, and Sienna matched it with a step back. “What’re you doin’, filly? I hope it ain’t what it looks like.”

The earth pony looked over her shoulders, as if she just remembered she’d thrown a pair of saddlebags across her back and stuffed them with supplies. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “I ain’t stayin’ here,” she said, her voice wavering. “I can’t take it. All I see are mean faces and ponies who want me dead. So I’m goin’, Kestrel. I don’t know where, but I’m goin’.”

Kestrel cocked her head to the side. “You swore an oath, Sienna,” she said. “You ain’t backin’ out on us now.”

“I didn’t want to swear no oath!” Sienna protested. “I didn’t want none of this to happen to me! You and Silver, you two foalnapped me and dragged me back here, and then y’all tied me to a wheel and beat me for what I knew! I don’t wanna be here! I don’t wanna be with any of you!”

Kestrel chewed on her lip as she watched Sienna grow increasingly distressed. If she got too frightened, who knew what she’d do; the mare had a history of making poor choices, and she was armed. Instead of coming closer, Kestrel sighed and took a way back. “You sure ‘bout this?”

Sienna blinked. “W-What?”

“You sure ‘bout what you’re doin’?” she asked her, gesturing lazily to the empty desert with a wing. “Once you leave, there’s no goin’ back.”

“You… ain’t gonna try and stop me?”

“Ain’t decided yet,” Kestrel admitted, working her jaw from side to side. “Just wanna talk, right now.”

Kestrel uses Sweet Talker (4) to calm Sienna: Success

Bit by bit, the mare’s shaking subsided, and Sienna seemed to deflate. Her shoulders sagged and she simply seemed tired, weary of the world around her. “I don’t want to be here no more,” Sienna said, her voice glum. “All my life, I been in this gang or that gang. I don’t want no more gangs. I just… just wanna go and do somethin’ with myself. I ain’t cut out for it.” She turned fearful eyes back to Kestrel, then up the rock face behind her. “Rattlesnake raped me a bunch. It’s terrifyin’. You know how terrifyin’ that is?”

Kestrel slowly shook her head. “My uncle… he was feely when I was a filly. Never got all the way, though. Not like that.”

Sienna sucked in a shuddering breath. “Roughshod… he don’t make me feel safe. He reminds me of Rattlesnake.”

“Roughshod ain’t gonna do shit,” Kestrel assured her. “Tumbleweed’ll shoot him dead if he tries. We got a code we live by. And the rest of us mares, we ain’t gonna let that happen, either.”

But Sienna emphatically shook her head from side to side. “I can’t stay with him here,” she said. “I just can’t. I can’t.”

Kestrel narrowed her eyes at her. “So you just gonna run and hope we don’t find you?”

Sienna lowered her head. “Please… if you got any good in you…”

“You swore an oath,” Kestrel reminded her again.

“I didn’t want to swear no oath…”

The moon shined high in the sky, surrounding the broken mare across from Kestrel with a silver lining, a glow from the heavens.

Let her run. She ain’t happy here, and it ain’t gonna get much better for her. Wherever she goes is up to her, so long as it ain’t the Vipers… though from the sound of it, them’s at the bottom of her list.

Try and convince her to stay. She just ain’t thinkin’ right. Whatever her grievances are, we can work through ‘em. Besides, I’ll be savin’ her life—from the Vipers, the Law, or even the Gang, it don’t matter none. If she runs, she’ll be on her own.

Force her to stay. She’s an earth pony, so she’s strong, but I got a few tricks up my sleeve. I bet I can get her to stay or slow her down long enough for the rest of the Gang to come to my help.

Kill her. She swore an oath, same as the rest of us. It don’t matter none if she didn’t want to; an oath’s an oath, and breakin’ it costs blood. I’m hurt, but I know I’m a faster shot than her.

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18512589

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 34

Try and convince her to stay: 45%

The two mares sat in silence, one afraid to move, the other unsure of what to say next.

There was no coming back from this, Kestrel knew. If Sienna left, she’d be as good as dead. But Kestrel doubted she could force the earth pony to stay. Sienna was small and scrawny, but she was an earth pony and she’d put up quite a fight if Kestrel tried to drag her back to camp, probably tearing out her stitches in the meanwhile. And if she tried to shoot Sienna… well, the mare might survive the shot and shoot back. Kestrel knew she was in no position to take another bullet today, not after nearly dying on the train.

That meant all she could try to do was plead with Sienna to stay, for her own good.

“What’re you even gonna do if you leave here?” Kestrel asked her, breaking the silence of the night. “You ain’t gonna make it in Rock Ridge, you know that well as I do. You been a Viper for years, and them scars on your face ain’t exactly somethin’ somepony’s likely to forget. You go there, you’re on them oversized gallows in a day.”

Sienna clenched her jaw. “Then I’ll go somewhere else.”

“Where’s somewhere else?” Kestrel asked her. “Quite a ways from Rock Ridge to any other town ‘round here. Damn town’s an oasis in the middle of the desert. You follow the railroad north, it’ll take you a week through the San Palomino to get to Appleloosa. You go south, you gotta get through Rock Ridge and your former gang without gettin’ caught. Don’t even know what’s down that way, anyhow.”

“I’ll go west,” Sienna said. “Las Pegasus is by the sea.”

Kestrel scoffed. “Right into one of the most populous cities on the whole west coast. You really that dumb?”

A brown hoof scuffed the sand and grit. “Lots of ponies in Las Pegasus,” she said. “It’d be easy to disappear there.”

“Better hope no posters with your pretty face are decoratin’ any walls,” Kestrel said. She touched her cheek with a hoof. “You know why.”

Sienna ran her hoof down along the scars on her cheek. “I’ll make do.”

“Will you?” Kestrel cocked her head to the side. “Forgive me if I ain’t got the most confidence in you, Sienna. You tried to jump me an’ Silvie by yourself. You stood by and did a whole lotta nothin’ durin’ the train robbery, which was your chance to prove yourself as one of us. And now you’re tryin’ to leave us behind and break the oath you swore just to go be miserable and die somewhere else.” She shook her head and shifted her weight from one side to the other. “Bad choices and you go together like bread and butter. I’m tryin’ to help you right now, I really am. Please, just listen to me if you don’t want to end up six foot under.”

Kestrel uses Sweet Talker (4) to convince Sienna to stay: Fail

But the earth pony only shook her head with increasing vigor. “I ain’t,” she insisted. “I… I-I know you’s just tryin’ to help me, but…” She took a step backward.

Kestrel felt her wings sag. “Don’t do it, Sienna.”

Sienna opened her mouth to say something more, but no words came out. Instead, she slowly closed it, raised frightened eyes to Kestrel’s and nodded once. “Goodbye, Kestrel,” was all she said, and before Kestrel could shout out to stop her, she turned tail and fled.

Kestrel watched in dismay as Sienna began to gallop down the path away from the camp. She’d done it. She’d broken her oath. That meant her life was forfeit. And as much as she didn’t want to, she knew what she had to do. “You damn idiot,” she growled, and her wing reached for her revolver.

Kill her: 40%

Her feathers slotted through the grip on her revolver and she drew it in one smooth motion. She grimaced in dismay as she lined the bead on Sienna’s retreating figure and squeezed the trigger. Fire shot forth from the end of the barrel, and Sienna yelped and staggered forward as the bullet cut into her flank, nearly taking her off her hooves in surprise.

Sienna is Significantly Injured. Survivor reduces her Healthiness damage from -2 to -1.

When she finally caught her balance, Sienna stopped and turned back to Kestrel, hurt and betrayal clear on her face even from afar. Kestrel thought she was going to turn tail and run again, but the mare instead shook her head and began to reach for her gun.

Does Sienna turn and fight? Yes

Kestrel tried to muster the willpower to fire again, but she simply couldn’t. The betrayal stung too deep. She’d tried to save Sienna from her former life, and the stupid young mare had thrown it all away. She had the bead on the earth pony’s face, but something in her stopped her from pulling the trigger.

How had it come to this?

Did the gunshot alert the rest of the gang? Yes

The next few seconds happened in a blur. Kestrel heard shouting from up the rocks as the Gang scrambled to respond to what they’d heard, but before they could, Sienna put her gun on Kestrel and fired. Kestrel ducked down as the bullet went wide over her head, Sienna’s nerves shaking her grip too much to aim straight. A second report cracked out from the top of the rocks, and Kestrel could only assume that meant Snapshot had got his gun. She saw the bullet strike across Sienna’s muzzle, grazing her nose, and the mare dropped her revolver in the dirt. But instead of running for the hills, Sienna leapt onto the revolver, trying to scoop it up between her teeth and fight back.

Again, Kestrel had a chance to shoot Sienna, and again, she hesitated instead of firing. “Put down the gun!” she growled at Sienna instead, moving off to the side to get a little cover between her and the earth pony. “Stop it or you’re gonna get killed!”

“Kestrel!” It was Silver’s voice, and Kestrel looked up to see a wobbly silver pegasus fluttering down from the camp. The drinking had affected her flying, and she hit the ground hard when she landed. “What’s goin’ on?!” she shouted, only to look over at Sienna raising her head from the ground with her revolver in her teeth. Silver cursed and tried to draw her own revolver, but Sienna fired first while Silver fumbled with the holster at her side.

“Down!” Kestrel shouted at her, dragging Silver to the ground a split second before Sienna fired. Silver shrieked in surprise and managed to draw her weapon, aiming it at Sienna. The revolver jumped in her feathers, and Sienna rolled backwards as the bullet tore through her ear. When she came to her hooves, the earth pony took one look at the Gang rallying to fight her and—finally—turned tail and fled.

Kestrel watched in dismay as Sienna fled into the night. She looked like she might disappear once and for all, but another crack of gunfire roared out from the Gang’s camp. She recognized the sound of a high powered rifle, not just a revolver, and the bark of thunder flattened her ears against her head. She watched as Sienna lurched and fell, spinning to the side with hooves clutching her throat, a spray of blood illuminated by the ghostly moon. Her body hit the ground like a sack of rocks, and she spasmed and choked in the desert for several seconds before her hooves fell away from her neck. Kestrel looked up to see Snapshot lowering a scoped rifle and frown at the body in the desert before turning away, apparently satisfied with his shot.

The rest of the Gang made their way down the path moments later, drunken stagger to their step, wondering what had happened. But Kestrel didn’t answer them; she could only stare blankly into the desert, Silvie panting by her side, as the body of an oath breaker cooled beneath the moon.

Sienna has died.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

And so the Gang has its first death, albeit a self-inflicted one on a short-lived member. When Sienna refused to listen to reason, I decided to use the option with the second most votes in the poll to decide what to do next instead of holding a repetitive vote on it. As with the train robbery, all the rolls were hosted in discord and translated to prose here; you can see just what sort of fuckery happened to bring us to Sienna's death. Her Survivor quirk allowed her to shrug off a lot of damage until the very end, when Snapshot got lucky with his damage rolls. At any rate, rest in peace, Sienna. You may be missed.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 35

Kestrel stared into the flames. She thought she could see Sienna’s face in the campfire, but then again, that could have merely been guilt. It was too difficult to focus on the flames anyway; they hurt her eyes, and the smoke threatened to pull tears from them. But no matter how guilty she felt, she knew she would not look weak in front of the Gang.

Guilty… why did she feel guilty? Sienna was an oath breaker. She threatened the safety of the Gang by trying to leave on her own. She knew the risks, and she still went on and tried to do it anyway. She deserved to die. Kestrel knew she shouldn’t feel any guilt about keeping her family safe.

She shook her head as a thought tried to worm its way into her skull. No, Sienna was never part of her family. She’d only been with them for a day. The outlaw scoffed at that. Had it only been yesterday that she cut the mare free from the wagon wheel and let her eat? It felt like a lifetime ago already.

Tumbleweed sighed and sat down on a rock across from her. Wanderer uncomfortably stood off to the side, the flickering flames illuminating his face like a ghost from Tartarus. The rest of the Gang was elsewhere; this was a discussion for the leaders of the group, the ones whom everypony else listened to. Even drunk, the rest of the Gang could understand that.

It took a few minutes before Tumbleweed finally looked Kestrel in the eyes. “What happened out there, Kessie?” he asked her. “I need to know.”

Kestrel let her wings fall to her sides. “She tried to run on us,” she said. “She thought she’d slip away in the middle of the night while we was all distracted. Trixie mentioned something about not knowing where she was, so I went and took a look.”

Wanderer slowly shook his head. “That filly was a troubled one,” he said. “She never was cut out to be like us.”

“You think I don’t see that now?” Kestrel retorted, biting back any venom from seeping into her voice. “I just… I dunno. I wanted to help her, and this is how she repays me.”

“This is why we don’t let our hearts guide us,” Tumbleweed said. “We have to have cold hearts, Kessie, cold hearts locked behind a suit of armor like the knights of old. We help ponies as need helpin’, save ponies as need savin’, and kill ponies as need killin’. Pragmatism, Kessie, that’s what keeps us alive. We do what we have to to survive, and we think with our brains, not our hearts.” He gestured out into the darkness of the night beyond the campfire. “You thought with your heart, not your brain, and let somepony who clearly weren’t ready to be one of us into our family. Now she’s dead, and she coulda done worse. She coulda done a whole lot worse. You remember Poinsettia?”

Kestrel slowly nodded her head; that traitor was a touchy subject around Tumbleweed. “I remember, Boss.”

Tumbleweed watched her for a few moments more before sighing and taking a sip of his beer. Even though he’d been drinking as long as anypony else, he always seemed to sober up when things grew serious. “I thought with my heart on her, y’know,” he said, beginning a story Kestrel knew all too well. “I… I thought she loved me. I did. I really did. And she betrayed us to the Law. She didn’t love me none. That was her alibi. But a mare’s breath on your neck, her warmth by your side… they make you miss things. They make you miss things you shoulda seen comin’.”

“I hope you ain’t suggestin’ I was gettin’ cozy with Sienna,” Kestrel said.

“No, no I ain’t. I’m suggestin’ you put aside your caution for another pony because your heart told you to—same as me, once upon a time.” Tumbleweed leaned closer, his face peering out above the flames. “You made a mistake, Kessie, but I’m glad you tried to fix it. You coulda let her run off into the night, but you didn’t. So I’m glad your honor and your family still means somethin’ to you.”

Kestrel bristled at the subtle jab. “I ain’t never been nothin’ but loyal to us, Tumbleweed,” she reminded him. “It was you and me who founded this whole thing years back. When have I ever wavered?”

Tumbleweed relaxed and slouched back on his rock. “Never,” he said. “You always did right by me, and you always did right by the rest of us. It was you who stopped that train today, and I ain’t gonna forget that. When your recruits messed up, you shouldered the burden.” Kestrel thought she saw a hint of a smile on his muzzle. “That’s why I’ve always liked you.”

Wanderer nodded in agreement. “Tumbleweed’s got a point. I don’t think anypony here can doubt you after today. You did what you had to do, and you picked up the slack where it appeared. And even if one of your new recruits turned out to be a failure, that showmare has some potential in her. I can feel it.”

Kestrel looked back over her shoulder toward Trixie’s wagon. The faint glow of candlelight illuminated the interior; she figured Trixie must have been preparing to sleep. “She knows what we are now,” she said. “And she saw we mean what we say. I don’t think she’ll run on us.”

“No, I don’t think so either,” Tumbleweed said. “She ain’t brave enough. But she tried to stop the train when her dynamite failed, so she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Give her some time, I think she can be one of us.”

“You think so?”

The unicorn shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll just have to feed her more tasks and see if she’s up to it. At any rate, that’s all yesterday’s worries, so we can put that all behind us and think about what’s next.”

Kestrel nodded in agreement. “What’re you thinkin’?”

“At the very least, we need to lie low for a few days,” Tumbleweed said. “They’ll be lookin’ for us now that we stole a huge payroll like that. Gotta wait for the heat to blow over, then… I ain’t sure.” He looked up to the moon and shook his head. “Our time’s comin’ to an end, my friends. We ain’t got much time left before Equestria deals away with us once and for all.”

“He’s right,” Wanderer agreed. “We’re on borrowed time. We need to save up money and get out of here before it’s too late. We need to flee the country, go someplace the Pinks will never find us. A few big scores… I think we can do it, then.”

Kestrel blinked in surprise. “Fleein’ the country? Well… where’re we gonna go?”

“I ain’t quite sure yet,” Tumbleweed said. “South past the badlands, maybe. Or east to the Griffon Confederacy. Maybe even Zebrica. The Law ain’t gonna follow us that far. Soon as we leave Equestria, they’ll leave us alone.”

“Zebrica…” Kestrel shook her head, trying to imagine what that would be like. “Zebras and savannah… how we even gonna get over there?”

“Money,” Tumbleweed said. “I figure… we need ten thousand bits a head. Ten thousand bits a head’ll get us outta Equestria and give us somethin’ to start with.”

Kestrel quickly ran the numbers. “You’re lookin’ at eighty thousand bits to get all eight of us outta here.”

“We got seventeen thousand put away right now,” he said. “Half the take from the train. The rest we’re usin’ to stay alive in the meanwhile.” He leaned forward again, and Kestrel could see the fire in his eyes. “We’re already almost a quarter of the way there. But we need more money. We ain’t getting’ far without it.”

Kestrel rubbed her feathers against her chin. “Alright. So we lay low, wait for the heat to cool down… then what? We gotta get the money from somewhere.”

“I know,” Tumbleweed assured her. “But we have our options. Them Vipers are sittin’ on a lot of gold, but Rock Ridge’s mayor… you see what he’s done with the place? He’s rich as can be, too. I figure we got a good crack at either of ‘em. That’ll be a start.”

Wanderer nodded and sat down to Tumbleweed’s right, putting his hooves over the fire to warm them up. “Rock Ridge is hot right now,” he warned. “I saw that army officer come in shortly after you lot robbed her train. She went right to the mayor’s office to talk, and afterwards she flew south toward Fort Harmony. I bet she’s putting together a company to go look for us after they secured the train. That Chatter gun we got’ll help, but it might be too much heat to handle.”

“Point is, we can’t sit around doin’ nothin’,” Tumbleweed said. “Time is somethin’ we don’t have a lot of. We can take a few days to rest and get back up to fightin’ shape—we can’t go runnin’ off while you and Silvie are hurt. But we need a plan and we need to act on it, otherwise we’re gonna be intimately acquainted with those gallows in town.”

Kestrel slowly bobbed her head and looked down into the fires. She swore she could see Sienna watching her from the flames, watching and judging her…

Kestrel siding with the Gang over Sienna and trying to stop her from fleeing has restored Tumbleweed's confidence in Kestrel... for now.

Take on the Vipers for their gold. We need eighty thousand bits, and the Vipers are sittin’ on ten thousand in gold. We take that gold from them, that’ll be a good chunk of change to get us outta here. [HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]

Rob the Mayor. Stallion like that’s likely got bonds and other assets we could make better use of than him. We might even be able to get a good ransom to leave Rock Ridge alone. Lotta money to be made there, but who knows… [UNKNOWN RISK, UNKNOWN REWARD]

Flee the area. Rock Ridge is too hot for us, like Wanderer said. We stick around, we’re askin’ for trouble. Sure, we’re givin’ up on lots of potential loot, but it’s better to keep our heads, right? [THE GANG WILL LEAVE ROCK RIDGE, NEVER TO RETURN]

Sit around and do nothing. We gotta wait and see what’s goin’ on before we make our move, no matter what Tumbleweed thinks. Maybe an opportunity will open up, and maybe we won’t get found long enough to take it. [50% CHANCE OF LAW ATTENTION -1, 50% CHANCE OF LAW ATTENTION +1]

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18524373

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 36

Flee the area: 41%

“This is just like Appleloosa all over again… or almost it,” Kestrel mused as she gazed into the flames.

After a moment, Tumbleweed sighed and bowed his head. “The similarities are there,” he admitted.

“We’re in the San Palomino because we got too cocky,” Wanderer said. “We hit that train, then tried to go and rob that hotel, except the Pinks were waiting for us. We got away once, but who’s to say we can do it again?”

“Right.” Kestrel closed her eyes and leaned back, the stitches in her gut tugging at her flesh. “And we were at a hundred percent then. No offense to the rest of y’all, but behind Snapshot, I’m our best gun, and I ain’t feelin’ ready for another robbery.”

“Then perhaps it’s best that we move on.” Tumbleweed turned his head to look out into the blackness of the night, where the moonlight turned the desert sands into vast fields of eerie snow. Beyond those modest dunes, the lights of Rock Ridge twinkled in the distance, a few candles in windows to stave off the advances of the night. “We’ll need to think about where. We ain’t gonna go runnin’ off without a plan. Wherever we go, it’s gotta be safe from the law, and it’s gotta have money. We’re well short of what we need to get outta Equestria. Leavin’ behind bits we know for sure are here in Rock Ridge ain’t gonna be easy.”

“It’ll be easier when the rest of them hear that Pinks started crawling through town right after we leave,” Wanderer said. He chuckled lightly at that. “Funny that a bunch of hardened outlaws like us are willing to take on the Army but a bunch of ‘detectives’ in pink suits scare us witless.”

“Because the Pinks’ll fight dirty, just like us.” Kestrel leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment; she’d spent most of the day sleeping, but she already felt tired once more. “That and their boss has got some otherworldly sixth sense about her. She knows what we’re like to do ‘fore we even do it.”

“But not even she predicted we’d strike off into the middle of the desert and survive.”

“Guess some things is beyond her power to predict.”

The three ponies sat in silence around the fire, each consumed with their own thoughts on what lay ahead of them. Rather than broach that topic now, Kestrel turned her attention to the desert below them, where the body of a traitor lay cooling in the sand. “What’re we gonna do ‘bout Sienna?” she asked.

“Get the coward’s body as far away from us as we can,” Tumbleweed said. “We don’t want nopony to find that near our camp. That’s a dead giveaway that somethin’s up with us. I’ve a mind to send Silvie to carry the scrawny thing out to the canyon and dump her there. Least that’s far enough away from us she won’t be a problem no more.”

“Best thing we can do with her,” Wanderer agreed. “Not going to be able to dig much of a grave out in this sand and bone-dry dirt.”

“I suppose. Just… I dunno.” Kestrel sighed and rubbed her feathers against the back of her neck. “She had a horrid life. Shame for her to end up as vulture food.”

“If she wanted us to respect her body after she was done with it, she shoulda thought about that before tryin’ to run,” Tumbleweed retorted with a dismissive wave of his hoof.

Some part of Kestrel wanted to fight over the issue, but the more rational part of her decided to drop it. It wasn’t worth getting worked up over, and she’d only recently repaired her strained relations with Tumbleweed. Instead, she grunted and leaned to the side, pulling a beer out of a crate popping the cap off with a steel shoe. Two big gulps of the gods’ gift to ponies slaked her thirst, and she held the beer in her lap between the feathers of her wings. “Fair enough, then.”

Wanderer began to nod, though that ended in a wide yawn after a bob of his head. Blinking a few times into the fire, the old stallion stretched his wings and glanced at his tent. “I should probably retire for the night. Old ponies like me and Miss Irons can’t stay up as late as you young’uns can. And after everything we’ve been through today, I think some rest is in my future.”

“I’ll have to let Miss Irons know you think she’s old,” Tumbleweed said, the corners of his lips turning upwards in a grin.

The ruddy red pegasus turned his eyes to the stars like he was praying to the heavens. “You tell her that, you might have to have Silvie fly my corpse to the canyon as well tomorrow.” Then he waved his wing and walked away from the fire. “Goodnight, you two.”

“G’night,” Kestrel said, touching the brim of her hat. She yawned as well, vigorously shaking her head back and forth to get some life back into her.

Tumbleweed snickered at that. “You can’t go passin’ out yet, Kessie. You just opened that beer.”

“I know, I know. Probably shouldn’t have, but it’s too late now.” She nodded toward the one by Tumbleweed’s side. “You ain’t finished yet, either.”

Pale magic wrapped around the bottle and levitated it up to the stallion’s lips. He tilted his head back and his throat bobbed as he took several gulps from it, and when he was finished, he chucked it off into the darkness of the night. “All done,” he said, a sly smile taking root on his muzzle a few seconds before glass shattered somewhere far away.

“I drink too fast and it’s like to come outta my stitches,” Kestrel said, taking another sip of her beer. “I’d sip on whiskey, but I already had enough fire in my gut for one day.”

“You better take care not to aggravate that wound,” Tumbleweed warned her as he stood up. “We need you in tip top shape as fast as you’re able.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout me,” Kestrel assured him. “Ain’t the first time I been shot.”

“Oh, do I know that,” Tumbleweed said, winking at her. “Too bad we ain’t sharing a hospital room this time.”

“Oh, stuff it.” Kestrel took another swig and shook her head. “Go get your sleep, I likely ain’t gonna be too far behind.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tumbleweed made to turn away, but stopped and tapped his hoof on the ground. “I just remembered, Highball was on that train you stopped.”

Kestrel blinked in surprise. “He… was?” Now that she thought about it, the engineer did seem familiar, though she’d been too preoccupied with stopping the train and getting shot in the gut to really get a good look. “You ain’t lyin’, now?”

“I swear it’s true,” he said. “Go talk to Silvie about it. She worked with him to get you patched up, remember?”

“I… maybe.” Kestrel shrugged. “Was tryin’ real hard not to pass out at the time.”

“Any rate, he said he’d be in Rock Ridge for a few days. Since we’re gonna be leavin’ soon… figured maybe you’d want to stop by and say a few words.”

“Don’t know how likely that’ll be,” Kestrel said. “Law’ll stop me real quick.”

“We can have Wanderer arrange somethin’,” Tumbleweed assured her. “Nopony expects an old stallion to be an outlaw.”

“The Pinks know,” Kestrel said. “Once they come to town, they’ll have all our faces on pretty little posters everywhere.”

“Until then, he’s our eyes and ears, and maybe he can pass a message along.” Tumbleweed yawned and nodded toward her. “Might be good for the two of you to catch up… I know you have more history with him than the rest of us.”

He was gonna be my husband, Kestrel thought, though she kept those words to herself. Instead, she only quietly dipped her head. “I’ll think about it.”

“Just don’t want you to leave Rock Ridge with any regrets,” Tumbleweed said in a concerned voice. When Kestrel didn’t respond, he slowly shook his head and left for his tent. “Goodnight, Kessie.”

“G’night,” Kestrel murmured back. Her eyes remained focused on her half-full beer, but her mind wandered elsewhere as the moon began to set.

Drink with Silver Wings. I wonder what Silvie’s up to? Need somepony to finish my drink with.

Check on Trixie. Don’t know how the other new recruit’s takin’ the news of Sienna’s death. Perhaps I should check on her.

Get some rest. No need to stay up any later. Gotta get some sleep and prepare for the day ahead. Camp’s probably gonna be real busy then.

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18543522

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 37

Check on Trixie: 46%

Sighing, Kestrel tossed back a big swig of the beer and forced herself to stand. Exertion was still painful, and she figured it’d keep being painful for a few days more. So long as she didn’t end up shot in the meanwhile. She always was a fast healer, the trick was to not get worse while getting better…

On the topic of things that she needed to prevent from getting worse, Trixie entered her mind. Surely the magician heard the commotion and all the gunfire; doubtless she knew what it was about. Trixie was a new recruit just like Sienna had been, and she probably needed some reassurances right now. At the very least, Kestrel knew she had to make sure she wouldn’t be killing another stupid mare tonight.

The candle was still lit in Trixie’s wagon, though Kestrel didn’t hear any commotion coming from it as she approached. She didn’t know what to make of that; was Trixie cowering in the safety of her little wooden home on wheels, or was she just reading or something else like that? At any rate, Kestrel knocked on the door before doing anything else to let Trixie know she had a guest.

“Who is it?” Trixie asked almost immediately, a slight note of shrillness to her voice. She covered it up quickly enough with a cough, though not fast enough to escape Kestrel’s notice. “I-I mean, who disturbs Trixie at this hour? She is trying to get some great and powerful sleep!”

“It’s Kestrel,” the outlaw grunted back at her. “I just wanted to check in on you.”

“Check in on Trixie? What for?” Kestrel thought she heard the unicorn shifting about inside the wagon, though what she was doing, she had no idea.

“Just… ‘bout the whole thing goin’ down with Sienna,” she said, shrugging her wings. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

A moment of silence passed. Then another. Finally: “You’re not going to shoot Trixie too, are you?”

“You tryin’ to run on us?” Kestrel asked.

“No,” Trixie said, indignation replacing worry. “Trixie knows what an oath is, unlike Sienna. Besides, now that she has consorted with outlaws and bandits like yourself, she has the distinct feeling she would not be welcome in town anymore. The engineer on the train saw her face, and we let him go.”

Trixie had nothing to worry about with regards to Highball, Kestrel knew, but she figured it probably would be best not to mention that. “Honestly, you shoulda known what you were gettin’ into back at the saloon,” Kestrel said, shifting her weight from one pair of legs to the other. “You sure you’re fine?”

“Would it make you feel better if I opened the door?”

“Possibly,” Kestrel admitted. “Just wanna make sure we ain’t got no problems ‘fore I go to bed for the night.”

A latch on the door slid open, and then the glow of Trixie’s magic took hold of the corners and pushed it open. She stood in the doorway, candle flickering at her back, in a sleeping gown and mask with bags forming under her eyes. That certainly surprised Kestrel; perhaps Trixie was just going to bed after all.

Trixie seemed to read her thoughts and rolled her eyes. “Trixie was going to try and get some sleep. I figure it’s better if I just try to put what happened out of my mind for now and not think about it.”

“Believe me, I’m tryin’ to do the same,” Kestrel said. She smiled some now that her confidence in her remaining recruit was reassured. “Well, if you’re feelin’ alright, then I guess I should say thanks.”

“Thanks?” Trixie echoed, her brow raising in confusion. “For what?”

“For fixin’ me up.” Kestrel stuck her foreleg out and leaned against the corner of Trixie’s wagon. “You said you pulled that bullet outta me earlier. Never got the chance to say thanks.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome.” Trixie scuffed her hoof against the ground and stepped back from the door. “Do you want to come in? Trixie figures she should be polite.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Please.”

Kestrel grunted as she hauled herself up the steps and into the back of Trixie’s wagon. It certainly seemed cozier now that the magician had folded up her stage and her supplies into the side of it. There was barely enough room for a pony to turn around, and nowhere near enough for two to stand side by side. Everything she needed for her shows had been crammed into one little wagon, and Kestrel was surprised a unicorn like her could even pull it all. “Not much room for recreation in here,” she said.

“Trixie’s shows were her recreation,” Trixie said, flopping down on her hammock hanging above a trunk. It swayed slightly before bouncing off the left wall, though if Trixie felt or cared about the bump, she didn’t show it. “I didn’t need much space. Just enough to keep all my things and sleep at night.”

“The rest of us could learn a thing or two from you about packing and traveling,” Kestrel mused. She opened her mouth to say something more, reconsidered it, then tapped a feather to her chin. “Why do you… do that?”

Trixie blinked. “Do what?”

“Switch back and forth like that,” Kestrel said. “Sometimes you use ‘I’ and sometimes you say your name. It’s weird.”

A little bit of rosy red built in the mare’s cheeks. “Trixie—I guess I’m still not used to talking with other ponies,” she said. “Most of the time I only talk with them using my stage persona while I did my shows. I don’t have anypony close whom it felt natural to just talk in the first person with.”

“You seem to do it enough around me,” Kestrel said, winking at her.

Trixie scoffed. “Because you were the first friendly face Trixie found in the past few months.” She put her hooves behind her head and stared up at the ceiling, the corners of her mouth turning upwards. “Funny, the first pony to show Trixie some real kindness in a while is wanted by the law…”

“Just ‘cause the Law don’t like us don’t me we ain’t good ponies,” Kestrel said. “Least, I try to be, when I can. Outta all of us, Silvie’s the real angel. Girl’s got a real sweet and soft heart; sometimes I can’t figure why she’s with us.”

“You and her seem close,” Trixie observed.

Kestrel nonchalantly shrugged her wings. “I guess. Poor thing needed somepony to be her mama bear, comin’ into the group fresh outta the planter aristocracy, barely holdin’ a gun before in her life. It weren’t gonna be Miss Irons, and I figured she’d appreciate havin’ somepony keepin’ Roughshod offa her. Though to be honest, she’d buck him in the balls soon as he tried puttin’ a move on her, and he knows it. She didn’t need my help with that.”

“Hmmm…”

Kestrel’s brow lowered. “What you hummin’ about now?”

“Just wondering,” Trixie said, and she smirked at Kestrel from the corner of her mouth. “You’re an interesting pony, Kestrel, I will admit. It amuses me to wonder where your heart lies.”

“My… heart?” Kestrel cocked her head to the side. “What're you on about?”

“You know,” Trixie said. She sat upright on the hammock and gestured vaguely out into the night. “I heard stories while you were out cold. I know just how turbulent relationships have been for you. It makes me wonder just who an outlaw like you goes to bed at night dreaming about.”

Kestrel felt her cheeks begin to burn as she tried to word a response to that.

Highball. He were my first love, and I was gonna be his wife. That ain’t somethin’ I’m ever gonna forget.

Faithful Heart. That filly almost got me to put this whole life behind me and be hers and hers alone. I still have a locket with her feather in it; sometimes I stare at it until the moon is low and the sky begins to brighten.

Silver Wings. I can’t deny the thought’s crossed my mind a few times… she reminds me of Faith, had her situation been different.

Trixie. Why not make some new dreams now?

Nopony. I ain’t got the time to think ‘bout things like this. Life’s tough enough as it is without havin’ to think about somepony else too.

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18558467

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 38

Silver Wings: 30%

Kestrel’s hoof scuffed the wagon’s floorboards and she looked away from Trixie. “I reckon… reckon you’re right about somethin’,” she said. “I see Faith in my dreams, and Highball too. But sometimes I see Silvie’s face. I ain’t quite sure what to make about that.”

Trixie remained quiet, simply tilting her head to the side as Kestrel wrestled through her thoughts. “She just… reminds me of Faith too much,” she finally said. “Not sure if you know, but Faithful Heart…”

“A previous lover?” Trixie asked.

Brown nostrils flared for a moment, and Kestrel slowly lowered her head. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that. I loved her, and she loved me, but it weren’t meant to be. Her father threatened to kill me and everypony else if he caught me with his daughter. Faith weren’t brave enough to leave everything she knew behind and follow me. That was the end of that.

“But Silvie…” Kestrel’s voice trailed off, and she caught a glimpse of a silver mare bumbling back to her lean-to through Trixie’s window. “She’s like Faith from another life. Same spirit, similar background. Tartarus, they even look similar.” She frowned and chewed on her lip. “’Cept, difference is, Silvie cut free of her old life. She wanted the freedom of our life, not the rules and traditions of where she came from. She threw away luxury and bein’ a proper lady to rob and shoot and kill with us. She threw away her inheritance, which probably was a lot, and now she’s livin’ in fear from the Law like the rest of us when she didn’t have to.”

After a moment, Trixie scoffed. “Sounds like a foolish mare.”

“Yeah… maybe. But she’s a happy foolish mare. And sometimes… I wonder if she’ll make me happy, too.” Kestrel sighed and waved her wing as if she was shooing away the topic, banishing it into the night where it wouldn’t bother her anymore. “But I ain’t gonna worry about that for now. Got too much other crap to deal with. Like gettin’ us outta here in one piece.”

“Getting us out of here?” Trixie raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Rock Ridge is gettin’ too hot right now,” Kestrel said. “We’re plannin’ on what we’re doin’ next. Leavin’ the area for greener—and safer—pastures. Tumbleweed’s workin’ on it, we just gotta get things put together and get ready to leave when he calls for it.”

Trixie frowned at that. “Has Trixie just joined a bunch of ponies who run at the first sign of trouble?”

“Nah,” Kestrel said with a shake of her head. “More like the second or third. You only last long two ways in this life: bein’ faster than the Law, or bigger than it. And nopony bigger than the Law, so we gotta be faster.”

“Those Vipers you keep mentioning seem big enough,” Trixie said. “They’re well known, so I would imagine the Law knows all about them.”

“They’re big enough to be too much hassle to take down,” Kestrel said. “But with all the noise we raised, I doubt they’ll last very long.” Yawning, Kestrel shook out her wings and turned around. “Well, any rate, figure I should get some rest. You hang in there, you’ll be one of us in no time. Make me proud.”

“Proud?” Trixie scoffed. “You’ll be more than proud. Even Tumbleweed will wonder how he got by without me.” Her horn lit up and her magic snuffed out the candle, shrouding the wagon in darkness. “Goodnight, Kestrel.”

“Goodnight, Trixie.”

Kestrel shut the door to the wagon behind her and wandered over to her lean-to. She was the last mare awake, and she caught a rare glimpse of Snapshot yawning by his post. She wondered if she should say something to him, help him stay awake, but a glance at the night sky made her think otherwise. Besides, her gut still ached, and she knew she needed rest. Miss Irons would be up before dawn, and Snapshot would get his sleep then.

He also didn’t need to be talked to about what happened like Trixie, anyway. The stallion probably didn’t care that he’d killed Sienna. She betrayed the Gang, and that meant she died. Snapshot was good at thinking in black and white like that.

So, with another yawn, Kestrel crawled under her lean-to and sighed as her tense muscles relaxed and she stopped straining her guts. Her eyes fell on a closed locket by her head, and her mind wondered to the picture of the mare inside, but instead of Faith’s face, she saw Silver’s. What would that be like? She couldn’t picture it now—Silver was still something of a sister to her in many ways. But would that relationship evolve?

That was a question she knew she was too tired to answer, so she didn’t try. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and pushed those thoughts away. Sleep took her immediately thereafter.

The next two days in camp were uneventful, yet tense all the same. The entire camp seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the Law to come find them. But it didn’t, not in those two days at least. The tension built and built, but it never came to a head. Kestrel wasn’t sure whether to be grateful about that or not.

Sienna’s body was dealt with as Tumbleweed suggested. Silver flew it off far away from the camp and did some scouting afterwards. When she returned, she reported that the train they’d robbed was long gone. The officer who’d accompanied it had probably taken it back to Fort Harmony, and the rails were clear once more. Perhaps that meant that the Army would lose interest in them… or maybe it meant that Officer Rainbow Dash was suddenly free to root them out and gun them down. Nopony knew.

Kestrel and Silver Wings consume the last two health potions and recover Healthiness while resting. They are both now Grazed and suffer a -1 penalty to Healthiness.

At the very least, Kestrel felt stronger with the rest and the last of the tonic they’d stolen from the train. She could move and fly almost as well as before, apart from a lingering ache in her gut that got worse whenever she exerted herself. Silver had also recovered nicely from her wound, though it still seemed to bother her when she walked. Pretty soon, Kestrel figured, they’d be back in top shape. They just had to wait a few more days and they’d be ready to move out.

But they never got those days. Wanderer returned from Rock Ridge one afternoon with a dour look on his face. Kestrel looked up from cleaning her guns long enough to see him flag Tumbleweed down, so she decided to see what was up. She approached him shortly after Tumbleweed did, just in time to see him toss a rattlesnake’s tail onto the ground in front of him.

Tumbleweed chewed on his lip, while Kestrel could only stare dumbly at the severed rattler in front of her. It was fresh, she could tell; the blood on the end hadn’t yet turned into a crusty brown. When she cocked her head at Wanderer, the old stallion pointed at it. “Rattlesnake wants to parley.”

“Parley?” Tumbleweed asked, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

“He knows we’re the ones who took down the train,” Wanderer said. “He must have seen Kessie’s face in town and known who we are. He also knows that we took Sienna, and he wants her returned to him unharmed.”

Kestrel bit down hard on her lip, and Tumbleweed only shook his head. “He’s gonna be disappointed in that. He’s gonna be disappointed in all this, then. I ain’t plannin’ on meetin’ with him over nothin’.”

“You met with him?” Kestrel asked.

Wanderer shook his head. “No, not him. One of his goons, I assume. No way a stallion like him would show his face in town with how notorious he is.”

“He must think we’re stupid, askin’ us to meet with him.” Kestrel shook her head. “Good a way as any to get murdered under a false flag of peace.”

“He likely knows that we’re not going to meet with him,” Wanderer said. “But he knew who we are. His lackey was able to find me, and I’m usually the one who goes to town because nopony knows who I am. He knows a lot more than he’s letting on, and that concerns me.”

“Yeah, me too.” Tumbleweed pursed his lips. “Any sign of the Pinks?”

“Not yet,” Wanderer said. “But I expect they’ll be here soon.”

Tumbleweed sighed and rubbed at the base of his horn. “We’re stuck in a pickle now. I’m worried how much more this Rattlesnake pony knows. Meetin’ with him is almost certainly a trap, and he has to know we’d think that. So what angle is he goin’ at?” His eyes fixed on Kestrel and Wanderer. “What do we do?”

[ALL OPTIONS ARE CONSIDERED DANGEROUS TO UNKNOWN DEGREES]

Leave immediately. Things are far too hot right now. We need to go, and the sooner, the better. If Rattlesnake knows who we all are by face and name, who knows how much more he knows. What if he knows where our camp is?

Wait it out. Our camp is heavily defended, and we’ll mount a better defense here than if he jumps us while we’re tryin’ to leave Rock Ridge. If he attacks us here, and that’s assumin’ he even knows where our camp is, we’ll have a better chance at walkin’ out of this alive—unless he tips the Law off about us.

Meet with Rattlesnake. He wouldn’t expect us to actually take him up on the offer. Maybe we can learn more about him, find out what we’re up against, and maybe have an opportunity to settle things between us before they get worse. If not, we might get the chance to put a bullet ‘tween his eyes then and there.

Strike first. Rattlesnake’s lookin’ to do us in, that’s for sure. So how about we get the jump on him, strike first, and scatter them Vipers before they can be a serious threat to us.

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

The poll on this chapter was funny, as shipping polls tend to be. 22 votes were recorded in an hour once it became clear that "Silver Wings" and "Nobody" were going neck and neck, and at least two overzealous voters started an arms race in manipulating the poll. Obviously I don't know who they are, but their conduct leaves much to be desired. To deal with it, I decided to use a screenshot of the poll I'd taken at 40 votes before the arms race to write this chapter, meaning Silver Wings was the winner.

To those of you who keep trying to mess with these polls: don't think your shenanigans go unnoticed, and if I see things like this, I'm going to deal with them appropriately.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18568827

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 39

Leave immediately: 44%

“We already settled on packin’ up and movin’ out,” Kestrel said, shrugging her wings. “I s’pose we pick things up a little, head out a bit earlier than we anticipated.”

“If everything we’ve heard about the Vipers so far is true, then we’re severely outnumbered,” Wanderer said. He pointed a ruddy wing toward the stitches in Kestrel’s stomach. “Kessie and Silvie might be feeling better, but they’re still not in top shape. Our best bet at walking out of this alive is to not come to blows with the Vipers at all.”

“There’s a logic in that, it’s true,” Tumbleweed said. “But s’pose they catch us when we’re tryin’ to leave? We’ll be out in the open without any cover, and we’ll be dead meat if we walk into an ambush. At least here, there’s only one way up to our camp, and we can protect that with the Chatter gun. We’d stand a better chance.”

“Not unless they tip off the Pinks,” Kestrel reminded him. She frowned out across the desert sands toward the little town of Rock Ridge in the distance. “The Pinks’ll be able to flush us out with little difficulty. Ain’t gonna shoot our way past an armored carriage, especially not when they got Chatter guns of their own.”

“Let’s face it, Tumbleweed,” Wanderer said, putting his hoof on the younger stallion’s shoulder. “We don’t have what it takes to stand up to the big gangs and the Law. The sooner we get out of here, the better. We’ll find someplace new to set up camp and scout out the area, and we’ll get our money there. There’s no sense in lingering around here for a few thousand more if it means we’ll swing.”

After a few moments of hard thought, Tumbleweed reluctantly nodded. “Alright. There’s sense in that.” He kicked the rattlesnake tail off the edge of the cliff and gestured back toward Rock Ridge. “See if you can find Rattlesnake’s lackey and tell him we’re good for a meeting.”

Kestrel blinked in surprise. “What?”

“We ain’t actually goin’,” Tumbleweed said, eyes turning toward her. “But if we say we are, he’ll have to think about what we’re really tryin’ to do. If we said nothin’, he might have done somethin’, sure that we weren’t gonna meet with him. But if we say we are, he might hold off.” He turned his attention back to Wanderer. “When did he want to have this parley?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” Wanderer said, already glancing up at the sun with a wing to shield his eyes. Kestrel did the same, and saw that it was already well into midday. “We don’t have much time to act.”

“We’ll leave tonight,” Tumbleweed decided. “Darkness should help cover our trail, but unless some clouds roll in and cover the moon, we’ll still be easy to spot from a distance, ‘specially in the desert. We’ll have to keep an eye out, but if we’re attacked, it’s not gonna be easy to repulse them.”

“How we gonna arrange things, then?” Kestrel asked. “We got two wagons, plus Trixie’s. We need ponies to pull ‘em, two to each, though Trixie is used to pullin’ her own.”

“Roughshod and I will pull the wagon with all the gold,” Tumbleweed said. “I know you’re still recoverin’, but you and Snapshot will have to take care of our supplies and gear. Wanderer and Miss Irons are far too old to be haulin’ wagons across the desert, and groundin’ our fastest flier ain’t a good idea.”

“Finally, old age has its uses,” Wanderer joked. “At the very least, I can help Silvie keep an eye on things from above, considering we’re losing Kestrel to wagon duty. We should also set up that Chatter gun on one of the wagons.”

“Trixie’s wagon is probably the best for that,” Kestrel said, quickly thinking it over. “The side can drop down, so if we place it inside, it’ll at least be protected.”

“But it can only shoot to the left,” Wanderer said, adding that key detail. “Only the left side drops down, so if we aren’t attacked from the left, then it’s useless there.”

“Better than leavin’ it on top of one of the other wagons and gettin’ shot from all sides.”

Tumbleweed regarded Trixie’s wagon for a moment, tapping his hoof against his chin. “It’s probably our best bet,” he said. “See about gettin’ it stowed in Trixie’s wagon. Wanderer, get back to Rock Ridge and try to lay our cover for us. I’m gonna dig up our stash and get it safely hidden away, then start gettin’ the rest of our crew organized to go.”

Wanderer nodded and spread his wings, jumping off the edge of the cliff and catching the air on the way down. As he flew back to Rock Ridge, Kestrel looked over their campsite in worry. “Lotta things to get ready, here.”

“Less than we had when we fled the Pinks the first time,” Tumbleweed said. “Half our supplies are probably rottin’ away on the other side of the San Palomino.”

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do about them now.”

“Quite.” Tumbleweed’s magic tugged on his suspenders, and his nostrils flared with a deep breath. “I got a bad feelin’ ‘bout all of this, Kessie.”

Kestrel raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“It ain’t gonna go smoothly, I can tell you that. None of this adds up.” The sharp frown along his muzzle deepened, and his hooves fidgeted on the dry and dusty stone beneath them. “How did Rattlesnake figure out who we are so fast? How’d he know to send somepony to Wanderer if they wanted to meet with us? Why try to parley instead of overwhelming us in force with the element of surprise?”

“He might not know where we are,” Kestrel offered. “We could be outta his sights still.”

“With how our luck has been lately, I sincerely doubt that.” He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it, the acrid stench of tobacco smoke wrinkling Kestrel’s nose and making her reach for her own pack of cigarettes. The two outlaws stood on the cliff side, poisoning their lungs as they watched the quiet town of Rock Ridge with worry and trepidation below them.

“Where we gonna run to, then?” Kestrel asked him. “Wherever we go, we have to make sure that it’s got money.”

“That’s what I’m thinkin’ about,” Tumbleweed said, and he turned toward his half-packed tent. After digging through it for a few moments, he returned to Kestrel with a weathered map and flattened it on a nearby crate. Scribbles and scrawls covered the map, marking out towns and locations of interest, but four stood out around Rock Ridge. “We’ve got a few options, and I don’t like any of ‘em more than the others. We’d have as much luck strikin’ off in a random direction as plannin’ things out, I feel, but it don’t hurt none to know where we’re goin’.”

Kestrel could agree with that, and she pulled the map a little closer to read the names of the towns and the little notes Tumbleweed had scratched down next to each one.

East to Hoofston. Something of a jewel of civilization in the arid drylands. Lots of ponies, lots of businesses. Railroad hub for Miss Belle’s fashion industry, big bank branch for ranchers.

South toward the Badlands. Little law presence. Little civilization. Won’t have to worry much about the Pinks or the Law, but not much money. Probably lots of other gangs. Most worse than us. Lie low for a bit? Going nowhere in a hurry.

West toward Las Pegasus. Big casino town. Lots of resorts. Lots of money. Lots of ponies. Good place to disappear for a while? Lots of Law. One wrong move and a hundred Pinks will be on us in minutes. Might be the end of us.

North toward Dodge Junction. Railroad hub linking Equestria to the frontier. Lots of goods moving both ways. Have to cross San Palomino AGAIN. Not sure we’ll survive. Last place the Pinks’ll look.

(Confidence Required: 45 Votes)

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18582605

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 40

East toward Hoofston: 46%

“Miss Belle, huh?” Kestrel said, tapping the name ‘HOOFSTON’ printed in block letters over a black dot. “We robbed her wagon not too long ago.”

“And I’m sure she’s got loads more bits just sittin’ there for us to take,” Tumbleweed said. “Plus there’s a bank there. A pretty big bank, from what I’ve heard.”

Kestrel whistled at that. “Probably not too guarded, either,” she said. “Big city banks think a cop on the corner’ll keep ‘em safe. They ain’t ever tussled with outlaws like us.”

“Well, we’ll have to wait and see about that. No sense makin’ plans ‘fore we’re even there.” Tumbleweed rolled up the map in his magic and tucked it away. “So, east then?”

“Better east than damn near anywhere else,” Kestrel said, though she added a chuckle onto the end of that statement. “Though now that you mention it, I always wanted to see Las Pegasus ever since I was a little filly…”

“If we clean Miss Belle outta her fortune, we’ll have more bits than we know what to do with. I’m sure we can manage a vacation there on our way out of the country!” Tumbleweed guffawed and turned back to the camp. “Go get the rest of ‘em in line, Kessie, though you probably just need to help Miss Irons out. She’ll get everypony’s flanks in gear with a few commands, you know how she is.”

Kestrel touched the brim of her hat with her wing. “Oh, do I ever. Ain’t nopony meaner than ol’ Miss Irons when she pulls out her slave driver voice.”

“Make sure she don’t scare Trixie too much, young lass probably never had a mare as mean at her ear.”

They split up, Tumbleweed to retrieve the stashed loot and Kestrel to organize the camp for moving out. A quick word to Miss Irons was enough to spur the rest of the gang into action, and she knew just who needed to tend to what. The elderly mare stormed away from the shadow of the supply wagon and into the center of the camp, where she kicked a snoozing Roughshod and set him to work. Kestrel snickered as she watched the tough, tall, and proud stallion wilt and carry out her orders grumbling like a beaten dog until the old mare turned her sights on her.

“Get your magician marefriend all squared away and that gun in her wagon,” Miss Irons barked at her, pointing with a gnarled hoof for emphasis. “And make sure she doesn’t blow us up with any of those fireworks!”

Kestrel gave the old mare a hasty ‘Yes’m’ and scurried away from the line of fire, not stopping until the unicorn dragged Silvie off of a rocky perch with her magic and set her to work helping Roughshod load up the wagon. Free of Miss Iron’s ire, Kestrel poked her head around the corner of the wagon to find Trixie napping in the shade. For a moment, she considered kicking the mare awake like Miss Irons had done to Roughshod, but decided against it, instead tickling the mare’s nose with an outstretched feather.

Trixie’s nose twitched once, twice, and then she sneezed, sitting upright in a second. She blinked at Kestrel with bleary eyes, groaned, and tried to close her eyes again. “What do you want?”

“We’re movin’ tonight,” Kestrel said. “Leavin’ Rock Ridge for good.”

“Leaving? Already?” Trixie cracked one eye open. “But Trixie just dragged her wagon up to your campsite not even a week ago!”

“That’s right,” Kestrel said, looking over the mess of Trixie’s supplies she’d strewn in a rough circle around her wagon. “But the Law don’t wait for nopony. We gotta go or they’re gonna find us.”

“The Law?” That made Trixie open her eyes, and she sat bolt upright and looked around as if lawmares in pink suits were about to close in on the camp from every angle. “They’re here?!”

“Not yet, dummy,” Kestrel said. “But they will be in a few days more. So we’re movin’ tonight. Come on, let’s get your wagon loaded up and get set to leave. We’re leavin’ at midnight.”

Trixie didn’t complain much after that, and she climbed to her hooves with a tired stretch of her back. Together, the two mares were able to get Trixie’s wagon packed up without too much hassle, and once that was done, Kestrel had Trixie fetch the Chatter gun from the rocky bluff overlooking the approach to the camp. The magician returned a few minutes later with the weapon of war in her magic, the strain from hefting it plain on her face, and she dropped it roughly at the foot of her wagon.

Kestrel winced as the barrels hit the dusty ground. “Easy with that,” she said, and she hopped inside the wagon to mount the stand and secure the weapon. “If we get attacked on the road, that’s gonna be our best defense.”

“We’re going to get attacked?” Trixie asked, eyes widening.

“No. Well, maybe. Ain’t sure, myself. Depends on if we’re lucky or not, so you better start prayin’ to Lady Luck to be kind.” She took the Chatter gun from Trixie’s magic and affixed it to the stand in the floor, tying it down as best she could with a little rope to the beams of the wagon. “That’ll have to do for now,” she said, eyeing up her handiwork. “Might look into gettin’ a more permanent solution later.”

“You’re going to turn Trixie’s magic wagon into a war wagon? How is she supposed to do her shows now!”

“You’ll be fine, not like we can’t remove it,” Kestrel said. Hopping out of the wagon, she slammed the door shut behind her and sighed. “Better go and get some grub for dinner, it’s gonna be a long haul tonight.”

Under Miss Irons’ directions, the Gang dismantled and packed away their camp in no time at all, only leaving the stewpot and some tin tableware around to eat dinner before packing that away as well. The outlaws sat quietly around the fire as they ate their meal, watching as the sun slowly went down to the west, waiting for Wanderer to return from Rock Ridge so they could get ready to set out.

Only he didn’t come back.

Does Wanderer return from Rock Ridge without any difficulty? No

The absence of the old pegasus soon had the Gang on edge. It started as a niggling feeling in the back of Kestrel’s mind, soon blossoming into fully fledged worry as dinner came and went. Rock Ridge wasn’t that far of a flight from their camp; what was taking him so long? She could tell from looking at the faces of her friends that they had the same thoughts on their minds, but nopony voiced those concerns aloud. Not yet, at least.

But when the sun finally disappeared in the west and the indigo blanket of night began to rise in the east, Kestrel couldn’t contain herself any longer. “Somethin’ happened to Wanderer,” she grumbled, marching toward the edge of camp and peering down at Rock Ridge in the distance as if she could figure out what happened from afar. “I bet them Vipers was waitin’ for him.”

Tumbleweed frowned alongside her. “I shouldn’t have sent him back,” he said. “I shoulda just kept him here. But I was hopin’ I could get the Vipers off our trail, if only for tonight…”

“What are we gonna do?” Silvie said, hesitantly approaching the pair from behind. “If he’s in danger, we gotta help him! We can’t just leave him behind!”

“And get the rest of us killed?” Roughshod called out from the fire. “I bet that’s just what they want. They want us all to go chargin’ in to save the day, and they’ll kill us in town. If he got caught, that’s his problem. I ain’t goin’ down in that ship.”

“We can’t just leave him behind!” Silver exclaimed. “He wouldn’t leave any of us behind!”

Kestrel chewed on her lip and glanced at Tumbleweed. “Boss…”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

COMMENT POLL; SEE AUTHOR’S NOTES

Sneak into town to find Wanderer. We have no idea where he's at or what happened to him, but it'll be best if we don't tip off the law. The last thing we need is a shootout in the streets.

Tear apart the town to find Wanderer. We just loaded that Chatter gun up in Trixie's wagon; positioned rightly, ain't nopony gonna be able to touch us while we find our friend. Let's show these damn Vipers that we ain't afraid of 'em, and we ain't afraid of the law!

Wait for Wanderer to return. Maybe he's fine, just held up. No sense runnin' off into Rock Ridge and gettin' killed over nothin'. Best thing to do now is wait and see what happens, even if it means we're losin' precious time.

Leave now. Maybe Wanderer will find his way back to us, but we can't afford to put ourselves at risk tryin' to get him outta the fire. The best thing the rest of us can do is leave now before we get pinned between the Vipers and the Law.

Author's Note

So I'm going to try something different this time for the chapter voting, mostly because I'm growing fed up with the people who are insistent on trying to manipulate the strawpolls to make their choice happen, even when it's obvious from reading the comments here that it's not what the majority of readers want. I had to disqualify the option to go west to Las Pegasus because of that very same problem; I watched it gain 15 votes at a steady rate that made it pretty obvious somebody was boosting it to try and get it to win. The unfortunate reality is that there aren't enough people voting on these chapters to make strawpoll reliable (enough voters would make drowning out the fake votes much easier), so I'm going to try something different for this chapter.

For this chapter, I'm going to hold polling open for two or three days from posting this chapter, and instead of doing a strawpoll link, I want you all to comment what you think is the best course of action to take in the comments below. I'll decide what you all have decided based on the number of comments voting for an option, plus the number of upvotes on those comments (comments will be weighted much more than upvotes). I know it's not as convenient as having a strawpoll link to vote in, but it's also a lot harder for those people trying to ruin the story by enforcing their will over everyone else to do so. And if you don't have a fimfiction account, now is the perfect excuse to make one!

I expect there will be less turnout in comment form than anonymous strawpolls, so I'm not setting a vote quota just yet. I'll decide on what to do once I determine sufficient time has passed to count the votes up.

Sorry about the inconvenience, but something had to be done. I hope you're still enjoying the story regardless!

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 41

Sneak into town and find Wanderer: 17 Votes

After what felt like an eternity, Tumbleweed pulled his revolvers out of their holsters, checked that they were loaded, and slipped them back in. “We’re gonna find him,” he said. “We’ll slip into town and take a look, see what we can find. That rat of a mayor’s probably got more deputies than he knows what to do with in that oversized sheriff’s office, so the last thing we wanna do is get caught in a shootout. ‘Specially not with our two fine lasses still smartin’ some from the train robbery.”

“I’m fine,” Kestrel insisted, though she still winced when she touched the scar over her gut. “It ain’t gonna slow me down.”

“Me neither,” Silver proclaimed, though Kestrel noted she still favored her injured leg, and the bullet wound hadn’t healed as quickly or as cleanly as her own injuries. It wasn’t anything to worry about, yet still enough that it might impede her ability to move freely around in a shootout.

Still, Kestrel knew that neither of their statements to the contrary were likely to sway Tumbleweed’s mind. But on the other hoof, it wasn’t like he could go without the only two fliers he had right now. “We’ll do our best to avoid any tusslin’,” he said. “First things first, we’re gonna move out of here, take our wagons to the east end of Rock Ridge, hide them somewhere back a bit from the road. We don’t have the luxury of time, and we ain’t gonna get the opportunity to come back here first, grab all our things, and leave after we find what happened to Wanderer. After that, we approach the town from all sides, soon as it’s dark. Everypony’s workin’ in pairs, nopony gets caught out alone.”

Silver immediately turned her head toward Kestrel. “I’m with you,” she said, smiling.

But Tumbleweed shook his head. “Silvie, you’re with me. No use puttin’ both our fliers together in case somethin’ bad happens. No use puttin’ both our injured ponies in one place as well.” He turned to Kestrel. “Kessie, you take Rough and start on the north end of town after you two get the wagon hidden. Silvie and I will start on the south. Snapshot, you recall the church on the east end of town?”

The Gang’s best gun nodded as his only response.

“Good. Take one of them fancy rifles Silvie liberated for us and get up in the steeple. Should have a clear view of the whole town from there. We get in trouble, we’re gonna make our way toward you and get to the wagons as fast as we can.”

“And if we don’t have Wanderer yet?” Roughshod asked.

Tumbleweed frowned. “I ain’t gonna consider the possibility. We get Wanderer out, and then we go. We swore an oath to stay loyal to each other ‘til our dyin’ breaths. I ain’t gonna back out on that oath now, ‘cause I sure know Wanderer would do the same for me.”

Quiet murmurs of agreement rose up from the rest of the Gang, at least until Trixie dared to raise her voice. “What about the Great and Powerful Trixie?” she asked. “What will she be doing?”

Tumbleweed squinted at her. “Work on your showmare act, first of all,” he said, garnering a few chuckles from the rest of the outlaws. Then: “Stay with the wagons and protect them with Miss Irons until we return. We need to make sure our getaway is safe.”

Though Trixie grumbled at Tumbleweed’s criticism, Kestrel could tell by the way she relaxed her shoulders that she was relieved to not be anywhere near the town and the fighting that might or might not break out within. “As you say,” she said, though she wilted when she caught sight of Miss Iron’s perpetually stern face. “Trixie will do her best to keep the wagons protected until your triumphant return.”

“Good.” The Gang’s leader looked over his assembled members. “Any more questions or comments?”

“We better start movin’,” Kestrel said. “The sooner we get everythin’ in position, the better.”

When nopony else had anything to say to that, Tumbleweed nodded. “Right. Let’s move out, then.”

So they did, packing up what little was left and hitching themselves up to the wagons in the pairs they’d planned. Kestrel frowned as Roughshod slid into the harness next to her, and Roughshod returned the look. “Let’s just get this shit over with,” he grunted as they began to pull the wagon full of gold and supplies together. “We better not be dyin’ for Wanderer’s sake.”

“I’d happily trade you for him,” Kestrel fired back.

The stallion scoffed. “You’d take a wizened ol’ pegasus over a fit earth pony like myself? Didn’t know you thought like that, Kessie.”

“Oh it ain’t that, I got nothin’ against the other races,” Kestrel said. “He’s just much easier on the eyes and don’t smell as foul as his temper.”

“Funny. Maybe you should do vaudeville for that magician’s show. I think you’d look real pretty in a slimming red dress.”

“Aw shucks, Rough, I think you’d be prettier. Maybe I’ll getcha one for Hearth’s Warming.”

The stallion snorted and carefully steered the wagon down the road out of camp, using his strength to keep the heavy load from careening out of control and off the side of the cliff. “Be better than the presents my mama used to give me. Old bitch had nothin’ but harsh words and harsher hooves for me any hour of the day.”

“Yours too?” Kestrel chuckled. “My mama was a ragin’ drunk and my pa blew everythin’ we had at Las Pegasus. There weren’t never any presents for me and my little brother.”

“Hmph. Well, maybe Hoofston’ll give us somethin’ a few months early for the effort.”

“We can only hope.”

The wagons rumbled on largely in silence after that, the tension hanging in the air snuffing out any idle chatter and camaraderie. Kestrel found her attention focused wholly on scanning the rocks and scraggly bushes of the desert around them for Vipers lying in wait, but she never saw anything of the sort. She held her breath and readied herself to break from her harness and fight when a stagecoach went by in the opposite direction, but if the two ponies sitting on the seat recognized her from any posters, they didn’t show it. All was quiet along the road until Rock Ridge was behind them and they started their way east.

About two miles outside of town, Tumbleweed led them down to a gulley off to the left of the road, hidden between the foothills of two mesas and difficult to outflank if it came down to it. They left the wagons there, and Kestrel had Trixie put the left side of her wagon toward the road, where they could drop the stage and use the Chatter gun to fire on anypony coming over the rise. Once that was settled, Tumbleweed left Trixie and Miss Irons to keep everything under control until they returned, and the Gang’s five able bodies set back toward Rock Ridge.

They split up a mile away from the town, and Kestrel flew up a bit as the moon started to rise to make sure all was clear on the ground around them. When she saw nothing, she returned to Rougshod and readied her revolvers, one loosened ever so slightly from its holster so she could draw it in the blink of an eye if need be. But they didn’t encounter any trouble approaching the town, and soon the two outlaws found themselves waiting behind a chicken coop at the edge of town, watching the buildings from afar.

“How we’re supposed to find Wanderer in this mess I ain’t got a clue,” Roughshod grunted. “Town’s too big.”

“The town has two damn streets,” Kestrel reminded him. “It’s hardly more than a homestead.”

“Two damn streets and more houses than there are us,” he retorted. “Plus, they could’ve taken him anywhere.”

“That’s why we find somepony who knows what happened to him, maybe overhear somethin’ or beat it out of ‘em.” Her eyes scanned the buildings in the darkness, and she frowned at each in turn. “We got the general store, the saloon, and the doctor’s office on this end. Tumbleweed and Silvie said they was gonna hit the post office first, see if anypony saw him come through there.”

“Well, where are we goin’ then, Miss Kestrel?” Roughshod asked her in a tone thick of mock respect. “You’re Tumbleweed’s number two, I’m just a grunt followin’ orders.”

“Will you shut up?” Kestrel growled in exasperation. “You been with us longer than anypony else. Now, where should we hit first?”

The general store. Most common place ponies of all kinds go to. Everypony needs somethin’ or other, and maybe Wanderer was here earlier to get some last minute supplies for the road.

The saloon. If there was anyplace we was gonna find Vipers, it’d be at the saloon. Might be able to find one and beat what we need outta him, but the saloon’s also where all the bounty hunters and tough characters’ll be hangin’ out, ‘specially this late at night.

The doctor’s office. If Wanderer got hurt, might be he visited the doc ‘fore slippin’ away. Might be the best place to check first to make sure he ain’t hurt.

Sit back and wait. Clock’s tickin’ away, but we still got time left on the face for somethin’ to develop… right?

Author's Note

I'm glad to see that the comment poll for last chapter worked. I didn't see any foul play, and while the overall turnout was less than the strawpolls (which was to be expected given that there weren't any fake votes this time around), I was still happy to see about 20 votes altogether. I'm going to keep using comment polls for the foreseeable future, so make sure you keep commenting!

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 42

The General Store: 9 Votes

“Ain’t you a wanted mare ‘round these parts?” Roughshod asked her.

Kestrel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you saw the poster Wanderer brought back just as I did. Still kinda pissed about the five hundred bits, I’m worth at least ten times that.”

Roughshod snickered. “I’d say that five hundred’s ten times what you’re worth. But at any rate, saloon’s probably too dangerous if somepony recognizes you. We’ll end up in a shootout for sure.”

“’S what I was thinkin’,” Kestrel murmured. Her eyes settled on the general store, and she left the cover of the chicken coop and began to slink her way over in the shadow of the night. “General store’s likely to have a few stragglers spillin’ over from the saloon without gettin’ too much attention. Might be we ask the owner if he seen Wanderer today.”

“Store’s closed,” Roughshod pointedly observed.

“Where you think the owner lives? Next town over?” She pointed with a feather to the glow of candlelight in the second story windows. “I think he’ll be more than happy to help us if we ask politely.”

The stallion behind her cracked his neck from side to side. “Or not so politely.”

“Save it for if his tongue needs loosenin’,” Kestrel told him. Then, pausing by the fence, she looked up and down the dusty ground behind Rock Ridge’s buildings before scurrying into the shadow of the store on light hooves. Roughshod lumbered in after her, and the two outlaws pressed up against the side of the building, next to the back door. Roughshod tried it to see if it was unlocked, but all he managed to do was rattle the door in its frame.

“I’ll break it down,” Roughshod said, taking a step back.

Before he could, Kestrel held out a wing over the wood. “You break that door and we’re gonna have a whole lotta problems,” she said. “Knock and see if we can get him to talk to us. Better we do this quiet and don’t attract the whole town’s attention.”

Roughshod grumbled. “Why don’t you do it, then?”

“You think the pony runnin’ the damn general store ain’t seen the posters yet?” Kestrel scowled at him. “Get him to talk to us, and if need be, get us inside. Quietly.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. You on that time of the month or somethin’?”

“Bickerin’ with you makes me feel like it’s always that time,” Kestrel growled. “Just get on with it.”

The burly earth pony muttered something under his breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked forcefully on the back door. When there wasn’t any response after a few moments, he pounded on the door some more. “Hey, you home, clerk? I’ve got some questions I need to ask you!”

Kestrel, meanwhile, stood in the darkness off to the side, gambler’s hat tilted low to hide her face and ear held close to the thin wooden walls to listen for any sounds of movement inside. At first, she heard nothing, but then she heard the distinct sound of wood sliding on wood up above her as a window opened. “Who is it, and why are you calling on me at this hour?” a stallion’s voice rang out from the window above. “My wife and I are trying to sleep!”

“You sure you’re sleepin’ up there with all them candles?” Roughshod shouted back up to him. “Or am I keepin’ you from playin’ hide an’ seek with your prick?”

Sighing, Kestrel rubbed gray feathers over her brown face. She could already imagine the store clerk scowling down at him. With any luck, maybe he had a shotgun by the wall and would just blast Roughshod’s head away and put him out of her misery. “What do you want?” the clerk spluttered instead. “If you’re up to no good, I’ll have you know I got guns in here, sir, and I know how to use them!”

Not as well as Rough or me, certainly, Kestrel thought. Her feathers played with the polished grips of her revolvers, and she made sure the snaps on their holsters were popped for easy drawing.

“I got somethin’ important I need to talk to you about,” Roughshod said. “I need your help findin’ somepony. You may have seen ‘em. There’s gold involved…”

He trailed off, the unspoken addendum left crystal clear. Kestrel held her breath in the ensuing silence, imagining the clerk’s common sense waging battle against his greed.

Roughshod uses Sweet Talker (4) to convince the clerk to talk: Success

“Gold, eh?” he finally asked. “Who’re you looking for?”

“An old pegasus,” Roughshod said. “Coat that’s red like wet clay. You seen him?”

Has the store owner seen Wanderer? Yes

“Might be I did,” the stallion answered. “He was in here getting some gin and chew earlier. Oatcakes and revolver ammunition, too. Strange assortment, but I’m not one to judge. I’ve seen worse.” A pause. “How does this involve gold?”

“I’ll get to that,” Roughshod said. “Soon as you tell me where he went.”

“I don’t know,” the stallion admitted. “I don’t tend to follow my customers outside once they finish their business, you know? Just common sense…”

Kestrel uses Instincts (7) to tell if the store owner is telling the truth: Success

Roughshod glanced at Kestrel, eyebrow raised in the moonlight, and the mare slowly nodded her head. The shop keep didn’t have any waver to his voice or hesitation that would have marked him as a liar; he probably thought if he kept cooperating there’d be plenty of gold for him at the end of it all. At least that meant he’d be plenty easy to deal with and ask what they wanted.

“He meet with anypony?” Roughshod asked. “We need to know who he was dealin’ with if we wanna get that gold.”

Did Wanderer interact with anypony else while at the shop? Yes

“Yeah, come to mention it, I think he did,” came the reply. “Blue unicorn, clean shaven, with a snakeskin hat. They talked about something in hushed voices in the corner. I wasn’t paying it too much attention so I don’t know what they said.”

“When was this?”

“Shortly before supper, I think. Might be they went over to the saloon for something to eat afterward; they left together, though neither looked too happy about it.”

Must be one of the Vipers, Kestrel thought to herself. So Wanderer did make contact with them again, most likely. They left the store together, maybe to the saloon, but there was no way to be sure about that at the moment. At least they had the description of the Viper he’d gone with.

“I see.” Roughshod touched the brim of his hat and bowed his head. “Thank you kindly for your time, partner. Now get back to entertainin’ your wife and forget we were here.”

“But… what about the gold?”

“There’ll be gold at the end of it, I’m sure,” Roughshod assured him. “Everypony knows the Vipers are sittin’ on a load of it.”

“Vipers… you a bounty hunter, mister?”

“I’ve done some work in the past. What of it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Glad to see somepony taking care of the Vipers for once. They’ve been ruining this town for a long time now.”

“We’ll see what we can do.” Roughshod’s eyes found Kestrel, and he nodded with a barely perceptible dip of his head. “You just sit tight with that wife of yours in case things get loud.”

“Loud? Sir?”

“Might wanna keep that window closed and stay down for your own good.” With nothing more than that, Roughshod turned around and walked into the alley between buildings, Kestrel slipping after him. She thought she heard the forceful slam of a window closing as she left.

The two outlaws waited in the shadow of the alley for things to fall completely silent again before they looked at each other. “How much you wanna bet that blue fucker’s still in the saloon?” Roughshod asked Kestrel.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Kestrel said. “Could be he and Wanderer went anywhere.”

“If the Vipers are behind this, then we can beat the tar outta any of ‘em and get what we want.” Kestrel noted the eager way Roughshod watched the saloon down the street, candlelight spilling out onto the dusty ground. There were ponies inside, alright; the noise made that much obvious. But who was in there and how many, she couldn’t tell.

“Easy there,” Kestrel warned him. “We don’t want to get in a fight we ain’t ready for yet.”

Is anypony leaving the saloon right now? Yes

As she watched, a trio of ponies staggered out of the doors, shouting insults back into the building as they all but fell down the stairs to the road. They were grizzled ponies made hard by the San Palomino, that much was obvious at a glance. Dusty and worn clothing covered their bodies, they hadn’t shaved in at least a few days, and Kestrel was all but certain they were armed. There wasn’t a blue unicorn in their mix, but the ratty way in which they dressed left her convinced that they had to be outlaws or miscreants of some kind.

“How about that one?” Roughshod asked her. “Think any of them work for Rattlesnake?”

“Might be,” Kestrel admitted. “Won’t know for sure from here.”

Go to the saloon. The store clerk said that Wanderer and that blue unicorn mighta gone to the saloon after meetin’ up in the store. Maybe one or both are still there; might be worth bravin’ any trouble there to get a good look around.

Talk to the three drunkards. They look like the rough and tumble sort, though there’s no tellin’ if they’re part of the Vipers from here or just another lot of lawless louts like us. Might be they know somethin’ about Wanderer; might be they know nothin’ at all and we’re wastin’ our time.

Try to find Tumbleweed and Silver. Maybe the boss found somethin’ we ain’t found yet at the post office. Could be worth tryin’ to find him and compare notes ‘fore we do anythin’ more.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 43

Talk to the three drunkards: 8 Votes

Kestrel waited until the three drunks had wandered out of the light of the saloon and into the shadows of the streets before she left the alleyway, beckoning with her wing for Roughshod to follow. Again, she made sure her hat was tilted down to shade her face as best it could, and she rolled her shoulders as she approached the group. Drunk or not, they likely could still put up a tough fight if it came to blows, and Kestrel didn’t plan on taking any hits if it came to it. She’d been beat up enough over the course of the train robbery, and she wasn’t interested in more bedrest.

The drunkards didn’t notice Kestrel and Roughshod step out into the street; they were too busy hooting, hollering, and staggering into each other. Kestrel smirked and slightly shook her head. They were piss drunk, and hopefully that would make them easy to deal with. The alcohol would loosen their tongues and slow their hooves, and if need be, Roughshod was good at doing both as well. For now, however, they simply waited in the dark of the street for the ponies to approach them.

They only stopped when one of them bumped into Roughshod’s chest and fell to his flank, nearly taking the pony next to him down with him. The third backpedaled and almost tripped over his own hooves, cursing and glaring down his muzzle at Kestrel while his friends slowly picked themselves up. “Whachu wan’?” the stallion slurred, drunken eyes scanning over Kestrel and Roughshod. “I know you?”

Do the drunks recognize Kestrel and/or Roughshod? No

“Naw,” Kestrel dissuaded him. “Might be you seen somepony we’re lookin’ for.”

“Blue unicorn,” Roughshod grunted. “He’s got a beard and a snakeskin hat. We need to talk to him.”

“Piss on you, big boy,” the middle drunk growled, swaying back and forth. “Your problems ain’t ours. Go cry to that birdy sheriff if you’re missin’ somepony.”

Kestrel frowned at them, looking over their clothing and weapons to see if she could get a better look at what she was dealing with.

Are the drunks Vipers? Yes

There wasn’t anything special about their clothing, but each pony carried a revolver at their side, and each holster had been made out of snakeskin—like the hat on the Viper they were looking for. Snakeskin holsters weren’t common, but for a gang that called themselves the Vipers, led by a stallion named Rattlesnake, it seemed like a purposeful choice for the members to identify each other when out and about incognito.

“You’re Vipers,” Kestrel flatly observed, and that statement got the stallions’ heads to turn. “Pony we’re lookin’ for is a Viper. So spit it out. You seen him? Where’s he at?”

“Ain’t seen him,” the last drunkard said, finally managing to get to his hooves with the help of his wings as extra legs. “So how’s about you run on home, pretty thing? Unless you want me work that tail of yours, fill you up real good…”

Kestrel rolled her eyes at the drunk’s words; being an outlaw mare had desensitized her to threats of rape and other lewd catcalling. Instead, she just glanced sideways at Roughshod. “You want a go?”

“With pleasure.” Roughshod stomped forward, making the three flinch back. “You’re gonna tell us what you know, or I’m gonna hurt you. I’m gonna hurt you real bad. Rattlesnake’s gonna need a whole team of oxen to pull you outta each other’s asses when I’m done with ya.”

Roughshod uses Sweet Talker (4+2) to intimidate the drunks into spilling what they know (Hired Muscle skill)

The three stallions couldn’t seem to get out of Roughshod’s reach fast enough. Kestrel didn’t blame them; one was a pegasus and two were unicorns, who were on average smaller than earth ponies, and Roughshod was big for an earth pony. Magic and wings don’t help so much when drunk as can be, and somewhere in their addled minds, the Vipers must have realized that. “Alright! Alright!” The first drunk cursed under his breath when Roughshod ceased looming over them. “We ain’t gettin’ our tails torn out on Adder’s behalf.”

“He the unicorn?” Kestrel asked him. When they nodded, she took a step forward. “Where is he?”

Is the unicorn in the saloon? Yes

As one, the three Vipers glanced toward the saloon before they even knew what they were doing. Kestrel stifled a curse at that. As much as she had hoped it wouldn’t come to it, it looked like it came down to the saloon. “What’s he doin’ in there?”

“He was drinkin’ with the rest of us,” one of the Vipers said.

“Was there a red pegasus with him?” Roughshod asked.

Two Vipers slowly nodded after a beat, while the third squinted as he struggled to remember. “Think so,” one said. “They was in there for a bite to eat, then they went out back. Only Adder came back.”

“You don’t know what they did?” Kestrel raised an eyebrow, but the ponies only shook their heads.

“That’s it, then,” Roughshod said, and he took a step forward while the three Vipers took two steps back. After a moment, he tilted his head to the side. “Run off,” he said. “Go find a cactus to pass out under, or I’ll give you more permanent dwellin’s in the ground.”

That got them to scamper off with their tails between their legs, and they only tripped over their hooves and ate dirt two or three times before they disappeared from sight. That left Kestrel and Roughshod in the street, watching as a gaggle of young mares spilled out of the saloon, laughing and giggling as a few young ranchhooves tried to entice them back inside for a few more drinks. “That fucker must’ve done somethin’ to Wanderer,” Roughshod growled. “If he saw him off after dinner, that was hours and hours ago. Wanderer woulda made it back to us otherwise.”

Kestrel nodded in agreement. “Those drunks don’t know nothin’ about it,” she said. “But this Adder pony… might be we make him talk.”

“Oh, I’m lookin’ forward to that,” Roughshod said with a grin plastered across his muzzle. “How we wanna make him dance?”

Go in together and drag Adder out. Rough and I together can probably take on a whole saloon of drunks. Might make a ton of ruckus, but we been outlaws together for so long we’re naturals at watchin’ each other’s backs. Adder don’t stand no chance.

Send Roughshod in alone to flush Adder out. Rough knows how to stage a drunken brawl. Might be he can get Adder outta the saloon in a fight, and I can help secure him outside.

Go in alone to lure Adder out. Bandits and outlaws are always lookin’ to sex up a country girl when they come to town; their own mares are too tough to take easy. If I pull my hair down, shape it up a little, might be he won’t recognize me and I can bring him out to Rough on the promise of some tail.

Try to find Tumbleweed and Silvie first. We need more backup if we’re gonna drag Adder out of the saloon. We can grab the Boss and Silvie and head there in force. I just hope Adder don’t get up and leave while we’re lookin’ for ‘em, else we’re back to square one.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 44

Send Roughshod in alone: 6 votes

Kestrel watched the ranchhooves bumble their way back into the bar, the young mares having left them behind. Her eyes wandered to a post by the door, where a pair of wanted posters had been nailed into the wood. Even in the dark with only candlelight to illuminate it, she could see the rough caricatures of hers and Silvie’s faces. “Too dangerous for me to go in myself,” she said. “Not so much for you.”

Roughshod snorted and slapped Kestrel across the shoulders. “You scared of a piece of paper, Kessie?”

“I ain’t lookin’ to make too much noise, get the sheriff and every bounty hunter stayin’ in town brought down on us,” Kestrel growled back. “This whole deal works better if I ain’t involved.”

“Yeah, you sit out here gazin’ at the stars while I take on the whole damn viper pit myself.” Roughshod frowned long and hard at her. “You’re gonna owe me for this, Kessie.”

“Wanderer’s gonna owe both of us if we get him back safely.” Kestrel met the stallion’s eyes with an even glare of her own. “All you gotta do is get in there and get Adder out somehow. I don’t much care what you do, so long as it ain’t gonna get us worked over. I’ll hang by the window in case things go south.”

“Things always go south sooner rather than later.” Roughshod sighed, squared up his shoulders, and made for the entrance, shouldering the batwing doors aside. Kestrel followed in his shadow, pausing in the dark by the window tucked away in the corner, ear pressed to the glass and hat tilted low to hide her face from the street. Through the dusty glass, she could see the patrons moving about inside as the night wound on and on.

The ranchhooves were the closest to the window, standing around a high top table and passing a bottle of whiskey between them. That was a problem; while Kestrel knew they were too drunk to look outside and see her, they made it hard to see into the middle of the saloon. She saw Roughshod make his way to the bar and immediately order two shots of whiskey, downing them one after the other. With her companion accounted for, she tried to look past the ranchhooves and spy a blue unicorn wearing a snakeskin hat sitting somewhere in the saloon.

Can Kestrel see Adder from the corner window? No

Of course, that was easier said than done. She only had a good view of the bar from where she stood, and she didn’t see anything that looked like the pony the other Vipers had called Adder. She could tell by the way Roughshod slowly turned his head about that he was looking for him, too, but wasn’t having much luck either. He worked his jaw from side to side in frustration, then bought a beer and walked away from the bar to take a look elsewhere.

Kestrel pursed her lips and frowned. Where was the unicorn? If he wasn’t at the bar, was he still in the saloon?

Kestrel uses Instincts (7) to figure out where Adder might be: Success

Slowly, her head turned upwards, toward the moon and the stars hanging above the town outside. It was late, wasn’t it? Maybe the unicorn had retired for the night after the three other Vipers left. She gave one last look inside at Roughshod wandering between patrons, still searching for Adder on the ground floor, and sighed. There was no way to communicate to the stallion her hunch; she’d have to go up herself and hope Roughshod figured it out on his own.

Backing away from the wall, Kestrel stepped out into the street, checked both ways to make sure nopony was coming, and then spread her wings. A hop and a few strong flaps landed her gently on the roof of the saloon’s front porch, and she crouched low as she stalked toward the windows. Most were dark, either empty or with patrons sleeping inside, but Kestrel was more interested in the illuminated windows. If Adder just got back to his room, then he surely wouldn’t have blown the candle out yet. All she needed to do was find which room he was staying in.

How many windows are lit up? 4

Kestrel approached the first window, keeping herself low and her hooves as quiet as she could keep them. When she approached the first window, she huddled herself against the wall and carefully peeked around the corner, looking for a glimpse of a blue unicorn through the thin curtains.

Is Adder in the first window? No

Instead, she found herself hastily looking away and shaking her head when she saw a stallion and a mare having themselves a good tumble in the sheets. All she needed to see was that the stallion’s coat wasn’t blue, and she moved onto the next one.

Is Adder in the second window? No

The next window proved as fruitless as the first; all she saw was a mare lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling with an almost-empty bottle of gin by her side. After lingering just long enough to make sure that Adder wasn’t somewhere in the room out of sight, Kestrel moved on, passing by two more dark windows before she saw a third ahead of her.

Is Roughshod staying out of trouble? No

Before she could get to it, however, she heard a chorus of angry shouts breaking out from below. Pausing on the roof and clinging to the shadows, Kestrel held herself still as the shouting moved toward the doors below her. She recognized Roughshod’s hoarse voice screaming insults, and she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her wingtips. It certainly didn’t sound like he’d found Adder, and when she saw him tumble out into the middle of the streets with a bleeding cut on his face, four ponies immediately followed him out, shouting and taunting him. Kestrel recognized them as Vipers based on their apparel, and at least one of them had a knife glinting in the moonlight.

She cursed under her breath as Roughshod rolled back to his hooves. Just how many Vipers were in Rock Ridge? It certainly seemed like they had no problems coming and going, despite how much that griffon sheriff had talked up his efforts to take them down once and for all.

Kestrel rolls Lady Luck (6) against being spotted on the roof: Success

At the very least, nopony on the streets seemed to know where she was, not even Roughshod, who seemed to be looking for her. That gave her the freedom to do what she wanted and make her next move. But now that Roughshod had gotten into a fight, he might need some assistance.

She looked back over her shoulder again. There were two windows still lit, and Adder might be in either of them…

Keep looking through the windows. Roughshod’s tough, and he can hold his own, four on one. If he’s distractin’ any problems I might encounter, I should go look through everything while I have the chance.

Help Roughshod out. I promised Rough I’d watch his back, and now he certainly needs it. I need to get in the fray and start crackin’ skulls in the street.

Help Roughshod out from above. I ain’t much of a physical fighter, ‘specially since I’m still tryin’ to recover from that gunshot. I’d be better off shootin’ them ponies in the back from above, though Celestia knows the gunfire’s gonna wake up the whole town.

Find Tumbleweed and Silver. Roughshod can hold his own ‘til I get backup. We’re gonna need it!

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 45

Kestrel quietly crept up to the corner of the balcony overhang, hunching down low and into the shadows. The four Vipers had formed a half circle around Roughshod, eying him up and looking for an opening. Roughshod was an experienced brawler, however, and kept them from gaining ground and closing in around him by threatening the Vipers on the ends of the semicircle, keeping them back and giving himself room to work with. His attention, however, remained largely focused on the stallion with the knife, the obvious threat of the bunch. Tough as Roughshod was, eight inches of cold steel had a way of cutting a pony down to size.

That also made him the obvious target for Kestrel if she wanted to help. The knife-wielding Viper was also the closest to the saloon, and therefore the closest to her. Spreading her wings and coiling her legs, Kestrel sprung from the rooftop, hooves aimed squarely at the back of the stallion’s head.

Kestrel uses Muscle (4+2) to attack the knife-wielding stallion from above (Surprise Attack: +2): Fail

Before she could land the blow, however, the earth pony’s ear twitched, and he looked back just enough to see Kestrel’s brown body coming down on him in the moonlight. He managed to roll to the side, avoiding Kestrel’s hooves, and the mare cursed as she drove her shoes into the dusty ground and slid over to Roughshod’s side. Before either could take advantage of the opening, the knife-wielding Viper brought himself back to his hooves and sneered at her. “Dumb bitch!” he growled around the handle of his knife. “Who’re you? Stay outta this!”

Kestrel paid him no mind; she immediately went to Roughshod’s left, helping to ward off the two Vipers trying to close from that direction. “What the blazes did you do?” she grumbled at him.

“Them idiots didn’t take kindly to me askin’ after their boss,” Roughshod muttered back. “Figure I’ll beat it out of one of ‘em.”

“Good thing I was nearby,” Kestrel said. “You looked like you needed it.”

“Yeah, great entrance you made there…”

With the scale of the fight changed, the four Vipers began sizing Kestrel up, scrutinizing her to see how much of a threat she was. The mare pulled her hat back to make sure she could see what was happening around her clearly, and the moment she did that, the eyes on the pony with the knife widened.

Is Kestrel recognized by any of the Vipers? Critical Yes

“Shit, you’re that mare on the poster!” the stallion exclaimed, and the rest of his companions all glanced back at him. “You’re with that old pony’s crew! I should have known!”

Roughshod shot Kestrel a sideways glance. “I really hate you, Kestrel.”

“You got us into this shit,” Kestrel growled back. Her eyes shifted around the darkness; it suddenly felt like there were eyes everywhere.

The obvious leader of the gang of Vipers grinned and turned back toward the saloon, where several patrons had gathered to watch the continuation of the brawl outside. “This mare’s got five hundred bits on her head,” he said, pointing a hoof in Kestrel’s direction. “I bet her friend’s wanted too somewhere else. You want some cash? Let’s get ‘em!”

While his back was turned, however, Roughshod suddenly lunged forward. The other Vipers tried to warn their ringleader, but it was too late. By the time he turned around, Roughshod was on him, his hoof driving straight for the Viper’s muzzle. The other stallion barely had enough time for his eyes to widen before Roughshod’s hoof crunched his jaw inwards, and the pony viciously spun about with blood spraying from his broken nose before landing in a heap on the ground. He did not rise from that, and the rest of the ponies watching Roughshod took a step back in surprise.

Roughshod’s nostrils flared and he stared down the two Vipers on his right. “Well?” he spat at them. “You want some, too?”

Kestrel knew what the answer was going to be even before the other Vipers began to rush toward Roughshod, and she spread her wings on instinct to make herself light on her hooves. She darted forward to Roughshod’s left, trying to interrupt the pegasus closing in on his blind spot, but wasn’t fast enough to intercept. His punch caught Roughshod from behind and he staggered forward—right into the knife the second Viper had drawn from under his overcoat and jammed into his chest.

Roughshod uses Tough as Nails to avoid taking damage: Critical Fail

Roughshod is Critically Injured and suffers a -3 penalty to Healthiness until his wounds can be treated.

Roughshod’s eyes bulged out and he staggered backwards as the Viper pulled the blade out, the steel glistening red with blood. He coughed hard but managed to catch himself as the last Viper rushed at him, and he took a blow to the jaw that sent him reeling. And beyond the fight back at the saloon, two ponies that looked like two-bit bounty hunter wannabes had jumped down the stairs and were rushing toward the beleaguered stallion, ready to claim any bounties that might be on his head.

Kestrel launched herself at the pegasus who had punched Roughshod from behind, and the steel on her hooves slammed into his cheek and dropped him to the dusty ground. One more kick to his skull stopped his writhing, though Kestrel didn’t bother to look if he was just going to wake up with a bad headache in the morning or if he wasn’t going to wake up ever again. Roughshod, meanwhile, staggered forward, trying to land a hit on the stallion that had stabbed him…

Roughshod attacks the Viper who stabbed him: Critical Fail

…but ended up falling over when he swung his hoof out while his assailant easily danced around the blow. The Viper’s lips turned into a sick grin as he saw Roughshod lying on the ground in front of him, all but helpless from his injury, and blood dripped from the knife as he readied to strike once again.

Lady Luck (6) intervenes on Kestrel’s behalf: Success

Before he could, however, maroon magic smashed a brick against the stallion’s skull, and his eyes rolled back as he fell to the ground. A silver streak darted between Roughshod and the remaining Viper, and the last outlaw jumped backwards to avoid the flurry of hooves. When the streak finally came to a stop, Kestrel’s wings sagged with relief when she saw Silver standing by Roughshod, her mouth slightly open and wings quivering as she panted with excitement. One eye turned back toward Kestrel. “You need the cavalry?”

“Do we ever,” Kestrel said, a grin working its way across her face. Tumbleweed galloped over from further down the street and took up a position by Silver’s other side, and he could only shook his head at what he saw.

“I shoulda known you and Rough would get into some trouble,” he said, turning his attention back to the remaining three ponies in the brawl across from him. “Let’s send these vermin runnin’ with their tails ‘tween their legs!”

The remaining three ponies, one with vengeance on his mind and the other two with bits, rushed forward to attack despite being outnumbered. One ran straight for Kestrel, forcing her back with a light blow to the end of her muzzle that left her snorting and bleeding from her nose but nothing more. The last Viper attacked Silver, and the young mare cried out when his hoof caught her eye; she jumped back a few feet with a flutter of her wings until she could see clearly, then jumped back at him. The final pony tried to attack Tumbleweed, but the leader of the Gang turned him away with his magic before he could connect.

Kestrel attacks the pony that attacked her: Critical Success

Then it was Kestrel’s turn to rebound, and she wasted no time. Wings flapping, she launched herself at the bounty hunter and kicked him back with all four of her hooves. Still somewhat inebriated from drink, the stallion lost his balance immediately and topped into the last Viper, bringing them both to the ground. Silver responded by kicking each while they were down, putting them out of the fight, and Roughshod finished off the last bounty hunter by catching him in the temple with a heavy hoof while he tried to recover from Tumbleweed’s magic.

The group rolls Lady Luck (6) to avoid attracting the attention of the Law: Success

The rest of the patrons dispersed shortly after everything fell silent, leaving the four members of the Gang to stand in the street, dripping blood and panting from the fight. Only when it became abundantely clear nopony else was coming their way did Roughshod sink to his haunches and clutch the stab wound in his chest.

“F-Fuck,” the big earth pony coughed out. “Damn bastard…”

“What happened?” Tumbleweed asked Kestrel while Silver tried to get a good look at Roughshod’s wound.

“Rough started a fight,” Kestrel said, glancing back toward the saloon. “We found some things out, though. Wanderer talked with a blue unicorn named Adder in the general store, then they came over here ‘round dinner time. We was tryin’ to find Adder when this happened.” She gestured with her wings around her. “How ‘bout you?”

Did Tumbleweed and Silver find any information on their own? No

Tumbleweed shook his head. “You found more than us.” Then he nodded his head toward the saloon. “He still in there?”

“I reckon,” Kestrel said. “Unless all the fightin’ outside scared him off.”

“Might still be in the process of that.” Tumbleweed frowned at Roughshod, who brusquely pushed Silver away and tried to stand on his own despite the obvious pain he was in. “But do we got what it takes to stop him now? That ain’t a good wound to our heavy hitter.”

“I’m fine,” Roughshod growled, staggering forward on three hooves while the fourth tried to staunch the blood flowing down his chest. “Let’s… let’s get the bastard.”

“We need to get you to the doctor,” Silver protested. “You ain’t ready to go back into there!”

“Screw the doctor, I can fight. ‘Sides, we need to catch this pony.” He turned his gaze toward Kestrel. “Ain’t that right, Kessie?”

Try to catch Adder as a group. Rough’s tough, that’s evident enough. Knife wound like that’ll only slow him down, not stop him in his tracks, and we can use every bit of help we can get. Who knows what we’re goin’ up against?

Send Roughshod back to get treatment. Rough needs so help, or he ain’t makin’ it outta here alive. We can’t afford to send somepony back with him to make sure he gets to the doctor’s, though. We’re gonna have to trust he’ll do it himself. [CHANCE THAT ROUGHSHOD DOES NOT MAKE IT TO THE DOCTOR]

Send Roughshod back with Silver. Only way Rough’s actually gonna go to the doc is if we send somepony to chaperone him back. Tumbleweed and I are our most competent fighters right now, so it should be Silvie who helps him. [ROUGHSHOD AND SILVER WINGS WILL GO TO THE DOCTOR AND BE UNAVAILABLE FOR DEALING WITH ADDER]

Retreat and regroup. We’re too banged up to go chasin’ down Adder right now. Sorry, Wanderer, but you’re gonna have to sit tight until we’re in a better shape to find you… I just pray them Vipers don’t kill you first.

Author's Note

This is the first time I updated Lady Luck to include Critical Successes/Failures into the dice roller, and we almost paid for it big time. Still, the Gang made it out alive, though not without cost...

All dice rolls for the combat are recorded in my discord server, as per usual. I only wrote down important dice rolls in the text, such as crits and anything else deemed important enough to explicitly point out.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 46

Send Roughshod back with Silver: 10 Votes

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, you big bastard,” Kestrel said, shaking her head at Roughshod. “Tough or not, you’re spillin’ blood. Get that stitched up first ‘fore you do anything more.”

“It’s nothin’,” Roughshod insisted, but when he tried to step forward and away from Silver and toward the saloon, he staggered and nearly fell over. Blood flecked his teeth as he coughed, and red spittle spattered the dusty street.

“Silver, make sure he gets to the doctor, and make sure the doc treats him,” Tumbleweed said. “Bribe him or threaten him, I don’t care what it takes. Get Roughshod stitched up then head to the wagons, do you understand?”

“Y-Yeah,” Silver said, grunting as she did her best to give Roughshod a shoulder to lean against. “But you two—!”

“We’ll be fine,” Tumbleweed insisted. His magic tugged on his suspenders and he glanced sideways at Kestrel. “Kessie and I can handle ourselves, and we got Snapshot in the steeple. But we can’t waste any more time. Go.”

“Right away. Best of luck, you too.” Her eyes lingered on Kestrel for a moment, and when the gunslinger nodded, Silver set her jaw and turned around, coaxing Roughshod after her.

Kestrel turned her attention back to Tumbleweed as the two ponies hurried off into the night. “Roughshod didn’t see Adder on the ground floor. I was thinkin’ the bastard’d be upstairs settin’ down for the night.”

“Who knows if all that commotion made him think better of that,” Tumbleweed said. Rolling his shoulders, he marched toward the batwing doors of the now mostly-empty saloon and beckoned for Kestrel to follow him. “Stay by my side, and keep your eyes peeled. Whatever chances we had at doin’ this quiet-like went up in smoke when the two of you started that fight.”

Kestrel nodded and fell in on instinct, though her eyes wandered to her wanted posted nailed by the door. “My face is gonna cause trouble in there…”

“We’re past the point of caring ‘bout that,” Tumbleweed grunted at her. “Even I heard that Viper call you out down the street. Some of those ponies that ran off are goin’ for the sheriff without a doubt, so we ain’t got the time to wait around all carefully.” He drew his revolvers with his magic and glanced back to Kestrel. “Anypony stands in our way, gun ‘em down. Whole town’s probably awake already from that fight, anyhow.”

“If they ain’t, they’re gonna be when that griffon gets here,” Kestrel admitted. Her feathers slipped into the grips of her revolvers and readied them by her sides, and with one last nod to Tumbleweed, the two outlaws kicked open the saloon doors and marched into the saloon.

Does anypony oppose Tumbleweed and Kestrel as they enter the saloon? Yes

With the fighting outside, most of the patrons in the saloon had fled for the safety of their homes, leaving behind only those too drunk, too stupid, or too greedy to move. Kestrel wondered which was which when she saw the three ponies standing across from her and Tumbleweed, and she knew at a glance they weren’t moving aside.

Tumbleweed stared them down, the barrels of his revolvers still pointed toward the ceiling but ready to flick down and fire at a thought. “Gentlecolts,” he said, red eyes moving from one to the other. “What seems to be the issue here?”

One of the stallions, a unicorn with a double-barreled shotgun in his aura, took a step forward. “You a feller by the name of Tumbleweed?”

Tumbleweed’s eyes narrowed. “Might be. Might not. Better hope for your sake I ain’t.”

“Whipstitch said your friend there’s worth something,” the stallion on his left said, his eyes boring into Kestrel’s face. “Five hundred bits, was it?”

“Five hundred bits ain’t gonna be enough to sew you back together again if you don’t step aside,” Kestrel growled back.

Do any of the ponies back down? No

“Forget five hundred bits,” the last stallion said, his wings fiddling with a buck knife. “Turning Tumbleweed and Kestrel over to the Pinks’ll get us five thousand. Each.”

“If you gentlecolts won’t step aside, then… well…”

All was still, quiet. All five ponies held still as statues save for their eyes, each flicking over the others in turn. Kestrel felt her wings quiver, and she ran through the motions of aiming and firing in her head over and over again. There wasn’t any room for error in a standoff; the last to shoot would be the first to die.

A bottle shattered somewhere down the street, and that little sound set the five ponies in motion.

Kestrel was the first to draw; both revolvers leveled on the pony across from her and the hammers fell before that stallion could ready his own. Two bullets flew one after the other, both striking the bounty hunter’s chest square and sending him toppling backwards. Tumbleweed fanned his revolvers as well, taking down the pony with the shotgun in a flurry of lead. The pegasus with the knife tried to jump across the saloon toward him, but Kestrel pivoted about and brought him down with a well-aimed shot to the neck.

Gun smoke wafted through the saloon, and Kestrel’s ears rang from firing in an enclosed space, but Tumbleweed wasted no time by the bodies. Instead, he galloped toward the bar and hauled the bartender out from behind it with his magic. One sooty barrel kissed the bottom of the tender’s chin, and Tumbleweed leaned in close enough until Kestrel was sure the barkeep could smell his breath. “Blue pony named Adder. He get a room here?”

Does Adder have a room at the saloon? Critical Yes

“Yes!” the barkeep whimpered, flinching away from Tumbleweed’s revolver. He emphatically pointed upwards to a spot somewhere beyond the ceiling. “Up the stairs and to the right! Last room at the end of the hall! He got it for the night, he should still be there!”

“He have anypony else with him?” Kestrel asked. Maybe Wanderer was there…?

“I-I don’t recall!” the stallion said. “Please, that’s all I know, I swear!”

After a second, Tumbleweed nodded. “I believe you,” he said, grinning. He pulled the revolver away from the barkeep’s face, only to drive the handle into the side of his head and send his unconscious body tumbling to the floor. He turned back to Kestrel and gestured toward the stairs. “Shall we?”

“Sure thing.” Kestrel quickly reloaded the three bullets she’d spent and returned her revolvers to their holsters for the time being. “How we want to do this?

“Bastard’s probably in his room with his guns pointed at the door,” Tumbleweed said. “We kick in the door, he fills us full of lead.”

“We got a better plan than that, then?”

“Go outside, fly up to the window. The moment you see your chance, take him down while I’ve got him distracted.” Tumbleweed smirked at her. “I know how to keep ‘em talkin’.”

“That you do.” Wasting no more time, Kestrel turned around and bolted out the door while Tumbleweed took the steps three at a time. After a quick glance up and down the street to make sure everything was still clear, Kestrel took wing and fluttered up to the roof of the front porch, stalking as quickly and quietly towards the window that belonged to the building’s end room. It was the farthest of the two windows that still had lights on in them that she hadn’t checked earlier, and she got as close to the glass as she dared and put her ear to the wall. Sure enough, she could hear movement inside, along with muttering muffled by the wall.

Kestrel eyed up the window. It was probably latched on the inside; ponies wouldn’t keep a window down in a stuffy and hot desert town like this at night unless they didn’t want pegasi getting in. That meant shimmying open the window was likely out of the question. That just left entering by force…

“Adder!” she heard Tumbleweed shout, his voice muffled by the door and wall between him and Kestrel. “Adder, open up! I got words I needs to trade with you!”

“I ain’t interested!” a coarse voice barked back. Kestrel could tell by the scratchiness that Adder must have been a heavy smoker, and he sounded older than Tumbleweed. “You’re dead, friend. All that shootin’ done woke up the sheriff and his boys, that’s for sure.”

“I’d worry ‘bout that too if I were you,” Tumbleweed called back. “Your gang ain’t on the right side of the law either.”

“Oh, believe me, I ain’t got nothin’ to worry about…”

Kestrel crept forward just enough to peer past the frame. Sure enough, she saw Adder standing with his back to her, a pump-action shotgun held in flickering sapphire magic and trained on the door. If Tumbleweed was stupid enough to open that door, he’d get a belly full of lead in one blast, but Kestrel knew Tumbleweed wasn’t going to dare open it up until he heard her make her own entrance.

She fluttered back from the window and put a little bit of distance between her and the saloon, a plan coming to the front of her mind. Well, not so much a plan as it was a grand entrance, but it would work either way. She momentarily paused over the rooftop of the building across the street, lined herself up, and charged for Adder’s room at full speed, leading with her shoulder.

Kestrel surprises Adder from behind: Critical Fail

Glass shattered as Kestrel drover her shoulder into it, and in that split-second she closed her eyes right before impact, she lost track of Adder. She quickly figured out where he was, however, when his shotgun clubbed her across the cheek as she entered the room. Kestrel lost her balance and slammed hard into the opposite wall. She managed to duck down and dart for the bed before a scattering of lead sprayed her blood against the wall, and the thunderous BOOM of the shotgun seemed to shake the room.

Tumbleweed kicked through the door a moment later and set his sights on Adder while the unicorn’s focus was on Kestrel. One unicorn bowled over the other before the shotgun finished pumping, and the two fell to the ground in a tussle, biting and kicking as they tried to gain the upper hoof.

“Kessie!” Tumbleweed shouted as the two struggled on the ground. Kestrel sucked in a quick breath and forced herself to hop back to her hooves, vaulting over the bed to try and join the fight, only for Adder to kick Tumbleweed toward her and forcing her to back off. Tumbleweed wasted no time locking limbs with Adder again and tackling him back to the floor, but the Viper twisted and turned, preventing Tumbleweed from subduing him and warding off his hooves. Snarling, Kestrel jumped back into the fight…

Kestrel attacks Adder: Critical Fail

…but the Viper rolled just a little bit to the side, and Kestrel’s hoof accidentally found the back of Tumbleweed’s head. The off-yellow stallion cried out, and Adder managed to slither his way free with another blow to Tumbleweed’s snout. Kestrel quickly moved to block his way, trying to restrain the Viper.

Adder attacks Kestrel: Critical Fail

He tried to take out Kestrel’s legs as he rolled away, but Kestrel fell onto him and managed to restrain him from slipping away, her wings buffeting his face to try and break his concentration and snuff out any glow around his horn. As they rolled across the ground, kicking at each other, Tumbleweed tried to strangle Adder with his magic. The writhing Viper fought and struggled to keep it difficult, but Kestrel managed to flip the unicorn onto his stomach and hook her foreleg under his jaw. Baring her teeth and grunting in exertion, the pegasus held on and on and on, slowly choking the Viper out. Bit by bit, his thrashing subsided, and when his blue hooves finally began to weaken, Kestrel spiked his head into the floorboards and put stars in his eyes. Adder wheezed and coughed, spitting out blood, but the click of a revolver to the back of his head made him freeze.

“Shit,” Kestrel growled between panting breaths. “Why you bastards always gotta make it harder than it needs to be?!”

Adder didn’t have a response for that; he was too busy sucking in air, a task made all the more difficult by Kestrel’s weight pinning him to the ground.

Tumbleweed walked in front of the both of them, rubbing his jaw. A red dribble of blood ran down from his lip where he must have bit it in the grapple, and his eyes bored into the Viper on the ground. “Mister Adder, I believe you know a friend of ours,” he said. Crouching down, he frowned into Adder’s face. “I think you know who I’m talkin’ about.”

Will Adder say what happened to Wanderer? No

Adder only responded by spitting at Tumbleweed. “Go to Tartarus. I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you. Soon the sheriff’s gonna be on us, and you’re leavin’ here with nothin’ but chains. You’re gettin’ nothin’ outta me.”

Kestrel smacked the back of his head with her hoof, making him cry out, and leaned back toward the window, ears twitching for the sounds of commotion from the street below.

Has the shooting attracted the attention of the Law? Yes

“They’re comin’, soon,” Kestrel said. “What do we wanna do with him?”

Bargain with Adder. Ponies tend to be much more cooperative when you dangle a carrot on a stick, a little glimmer of hope. Maybe we can find somethin’ that’ll get Adder to talk.

Beat it out of him. A little physical violence breaks down most barriers. Adder here might be tough, but beatin’ the piss outta him should loosen his tongue, so long as he don’t accidentally bite it off.

Flee with Adder. We can take him with us, get him somewhere private to get a longer go at him. But he’s like to fight us all the way, and he’ll slow us down if we gotta run from the law.

Stay and fight. Snapshot’s up in the steeple, and Silvie and Rough are on the other end of town. There’s five of us, and we know how to fight. With enough determination and a little luck, we can fight the Law off long enough to get what we want outta this prick.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 47

Beat it out of him: 11 Votes

Tumbleweed sneered at Adder and turned toward the door. “Start breakin’ things, Kessie. I’ll make sure we ain’t disturbed ‘til he spits out what he knows.”

Kestrel rolled her neck and stood up, taking her weight off of Adder. “I was hopin’ you’d say that…”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw Adder flinch and a flicker of fear cross his eyes when she hauled him off of the ground and winked at him. Then that little smile turned into bared lips and gritted teeth as she slammed her skull into his nose, breaking it in one blow, then driving the side of his head into the wall as hard as she could before he could recover. Adder cried out and slowly slid down the wall, his blood smearing the siding. “You met today with our friend, a ruddy old pegasus. You was at the general store, then you two came here for dinner. Where is he?”

Adder spat blood and tried to strike Kestrel across the face as he stood up from the ground. Kestrel saw it coming and stepped out of the way, hooking his foreleg in the crook of her own and spinning about to slam him down on the bed with his leg bent behind his back. She gave it a pull, threatening to dislocate it, and Adder cried out again. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Every time I gotta do it, I’m breakin’ a leg.”

Kestrel forces information out of Adder: Fail

The Viper grunted and tried to fight his way out of Kestrel’s grip, a fine mist of blood spraying from his broken nose with every labored breath. “I ain’t tellin’ you shit, whore!”

Kestrel tutted and shook her head. “That ain’t helpful, Adder.” She wasted no time putting her left hoof between his shoulder blades and pulling back with her right until she heard a sickening pop and a scream. Adder’s right foreleg bent so far behind his back that it could touch his opposite shoulder, and Kestrel gave it one last twist as she tossed it against the bedframe. Adder heaved and groaned, tears of pain running down his cheeks, and put her hind hoof on the cannon of Adder’s back leg. “How we lookin’, boss?”

Is the sheriff’s posse in the saloon yet? No

“Clear for now,” Tumbleweed said, keeping his head poking out the door. “Wouldn’t count on it lasting much longer.”

“That just means I’ll have to give our friend the short version.” Kestrel put pressure on the back of Adder’s cannon, and she felt the Viper tense up underneath her. “Where’s our friend, Adder? I’m gettin’ real impatient.”

Kestrel forces information out of Adder: Success

“H-He ain’t here!” Adder blurted out, and Kestrel only rolled her eyes.

“A foal could see that,” Kestrel said. She put more pressure on the back of his leg. “If he ain’t here, then what’d you do with him?”

“He came back today… told me you was gonna meet with Rattlesnake tomorrow. I said we should get a few drinks to commemorate the buryin’ of the hatchet, keep this thing from gettin’ worse. You don’t know what Rattlesnake’s capable of.”

“He don’t know what we’re capable of,” Tumbleweed said. “Keep him talkin’, Kessie. We’re still in the clear. Damn griffon’s too afraid to march on in here. That or he’s surroundin’ the place…”

Kestrel forces more information out of Adder: Success

Kestrel eased up on Adder’s leg, just enough to reward his answer, before putting the pressure back on again. “You still haven’t told us what you did with him. Spit it out, or you’ll be spittin’ more blood.”

“I got him a round and had the bartender spike his drink,” Adder admitted with sweat trickling down his brow. “When he was out cold, two of our boys dragged him away. He’s back in our camp, now, most like. Rattlesnake didn’t want you all skippin’ town, and he needed a hostage to trade for Sienna…”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed shared a quick look of concern, though Adder didn’t seem to notice as he continued to bleed onto the bedsheets. The gunslinger knew she and her boss had the same thought. If Wanderer’s in the Vipers’ camp and we ain’t got Sienna to trade for him…

Is the sheriff’s posse in the saloon yet? Yes

The stomping of horseshoes on wood downstairs snapped Tumbleweed’s attention back to the stairs down the hallway. Kestrel couldn’t count how many ponies had just entered from sound alone; the noise was far too cacophonous. What she did hear loud and clear was Sheriff Garter’s shrill whistle and sharp voice. “Kestrel and Tumbleweed! Lay down your weapons and surrender! On the orders of the law and in the authority granted to me by Princess Celestia, you are under arrest!”

“Just ‘cause you say it ain’t gonna make it true!” Tumbleweed shouted back. “Our affairs do not concern you, sheriff! Our quarrel is with the Viper Gang; stay out of it and maybe we’ll solve your problem for you!”

“You’re wrong, sir,” Garter shouted back, still out of sight just down the stairs. “Your quarrel is with the law and all the ponies you outlaws have wronged along the way. You’re being hunted by the Pinkie Pie Detective Agency, and you’re wanted from here to Canterlot. It is my duty to take you into custody so that justice may be done.”

Tumbleweed rolled his eyes and glanced back at Kestrel. “I like the crooked cops more than the straight ones,” he grumbled. “They’re at least more creative.”

“And willin’ to look the other way for the right price,” Kestrel muttered back. “We got a plan?”

“Yeah, I’ll ask the hybrid for mercy if we come quietly.” Snickering once more, Tumbleweed carefully poked his head back out the door. “Your duty’s gonna get a lot of your deputies killed, son. You a killer, sheriff? ‘Cause it takes a killer to dance with a killer.”

“If I must be, then I will be. You’re all wanted dead or alive, Tumbleweed. You and your friends are either leaving this saloon in cuffs or under a blanket.” The creaking of the stairs betrayed the movement of the sheriff and his deputies, and Tumbleweed lowered his brow.

“No, I do not think we will be doing either of those. Next time you find us, we’ll be in Las Pegasus.” Tumbleweed turned around and pointed a revolver toward the window, and Kestrel immediately dropped Adder to the floor and went to take a peek out the shattered glass.

Are there deputies watching the window? Critical No

Kestrel slowly peeked around the corner, and after looking around for a few seconds, raised a brow. They couldn’t have… could they? No matter where she looked, the streets all were empty. They’d left the side of the saloon completely unwatched. Did Garter really think they were going to come quietly?

A gunshot made Kestrel jumped, and she snapped her head back over her shoulder to see smoke leaving the barrel of one of Tumbleweed’s revolvers. There was a cry of pain and a thud from somewhere down the hall, and then Tumbleweed spun back around behind the doorframe as several revolvers answered him with reports of their own. Bullets bit into the door and sent splinters everywhere, and the Gang’s leader vaulted over the bed to Kestrel’s side.

“They ain’t got nopony in the streets!” Kestrel shouted over the barrage of gunfire. “That’s our way out!”

“You’re kiddin’ me!” Tumbleweed shouted. “We don’t ever get that lucky!”

“Just go!” Kestrel shouted at him. “Get goin’ and run!”

Tumbleweed nodded and jumped through the window, his hooves slipping briefly on the shingles of the porch roof. He stopped just long enough to glance at Adder still laying on the floor. “Deal with him and move!”

Then he disappeared from sight, and Kestrel pulled her revolver out of its holster with her teeth. Adder had rolled onto his side and looked up at Kestrel with a shell of rage covering a candle of fear, one hoof holding his dislocated foreleg against his body. He bared his teeth, but he didn’t say anything, not even when Kestrel pointed the barrel of the revolver at him.

Honor check: +15 Honor

But the gunslinger only shook her head at him. “Enjoy the gallows,” she said around the handle of her revolver, and Adder’s surprised look was the last she saw of him before she jumped out the window and caught the air under outstretched wings. Leaving the saloon behind, she fluttered down to the streets, where Tumbleweed slid and jumped off the porch to land near her. The two ducked into a dark alley to regroup and catch their breath.

“Sheriff might’ve been stupid with tryin’ to get us in the saloon, but you saw the size of that damn office of his,” Tumbleweed said. “He’s like to have all his deputies tearin’ through Rock Ridge lookin’ for us.”

“Rough and Silvie are at the doctors,” Kestrel said. “And he knows who we are and who wants us. He’ll know who they are if he finds ‘em, too.”

“Yeah. And on top of that, Wanderer’s all the way back in the vipers’ den.” Tumbleweed spat and cursed under his breath. “We gotta take this careful now, or Trixie and Miss Irons’ll be the only ones of us makin’ the trip to Hoofston.”

Try to make our way toward Roughshod and Silver. We need to get the gang all together and get outta here together. Silvie and Rough are gonna have a tough time gettin’ out on their own; they’ll need help. But if we go to them, we might bring the heat with us…

Try to lure the attention of the Law out of town. We get the sheriff and all them deputies to chase us, Silvie and Rough can get out much easier. But once we leave town, there ain’t much in the way of cover to keep the bullets away, and one unlucky shot could be the end of us…

Leave town quietly. We won’t have the Law chasin’ us if we get away quiet-like, but that means they’ll stay behind and might turn up Silvie and Rough if they go pokin’ around too much.

Find a place to make a stand. We could get into the church and get some help from Snapshot to fight the law off. Sheriff ain’t got a million deputies, and they ain’t gonna try us for too long if we kill a few. We break the law here, we’re free to decide what to do next without the threat of them tryin’ to chase us down; they’ll be too busy lickin’ their wounds.

Gain progress toward the following skill: Interrogator (1/4)

Law attention has increased to 3 (Severe)

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 48

Try to make our way to Roughshod and Silver: 11 Votes

“We gotta get Rough and Silvie outta here,” Kestrel said. “We ain’t leavin’ ‘em behind.”

“I wouldn’t even consider the possibility,” Tumbleweed agreed. “But we gotta be careful, now. There’s gonna be deputies everywhere.”

“At least you made it one less to worry about.” Both ponies grew silent and still when they heard shouting coming from the open window at the saloon, and shadows flickered through the moonlight as pegasi took wing. When they were gone, Tumbleweed quietly began to slip his way down through the dark alley, gesturing for Kestrel to follow.

The two made it to the opposite end of the alley and paused in the darkness. Both outlaws pressed themselves close to the wall and peered around the corner, eyes scanning the streets and the skies for any signs of ponies on patrol.

Are there lawponies at this end of the alley? Critical No

“Clear as can be,” Tumbleweed whispered.

“Not for long,” Kestrel whispered back, and she wasted little time scurrying across the street and into the cover of the next building. Tumbleweed stayed close to her tail, and the two ponies found themselves shrouded in shadow once again before a few shouts and whoops from the other end of town carried off into the night.

“Easy enough,” Kestrel said, and she started to slink against the building’s side, staying as close to the wall as she could to make herself harder to spot from the sky. Her tongue played with wooden grip of her revolver as she approached the corner, ready to fight for her life if a deputy happened to round the corner in front of her. But there was no movement anywhere save for silk curtains gently blowing in and out of an open window above them, and mare and stallion made it to the other end without trouble.

Are there lawponies in the street? No

“Where are they all?” Kestrel asked, looking up and down. “I figured this place’d be crawlin’ with law by now.”

“That big office is just for show,” Tumbleweed said with a shrug of his shoulders. “They ain’t used to ponies that fight back and kill like us, seems like. They’re too afraid to come out and look for us.”

“You’d think with the Vipers breathin’ down their necks they’d be a little more seasoned.” After checking the sky to make sure it was clear, Kestrel fluttered across the street, taking cover behind a wagon parked in front of a smithy. Tumbleweed joined her a moment later, and the two set their sights on the doctor’s office just beyond the corner.

“Seems to me like the Vipers can come and go from here as they wish,” Tumbleweed said. “There were too many of ‘em at the saloon for the law to not notice ‘em.”

Kestrel’s nostrils flared and she worked her jaw from side to side. “Don’t like that one bit,” she said. “Somethin’s up with them.”

Tumbleweed uses Scholar (7) to find a connection between the Law and the Vipers: Success

Tumbleweed thoughtfully chewed on his lip for a moment, then slapped his hoof across the back wheel of the wagon. “They have to be workin’ together in some way.”

Kestrel raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“I know so. That’s the only reason the Vipers are tolerated ‘round here. Because they’re wanted here.” He turned to Kestrel. “You never got the chance to meet the mayor of this here town, but he’s as sleazy as they get. I bet he keeps the sheriff reined in so he don’t drive out the Vipers with that oversized police force of his. How much you wanna bet he’s gettin’ good commission from the government or the military to help ‘fight’ them Vipers?”

“Makes sense,” Kestrel admitted. “I shoulda shot Adder on the way out. Don’t think he’s gonna swing if the mayor don’t want him to.”

“Mayor might have to make him swing regardless. That sheriff probably threw him in chains soon as he found him; he seemed like an honest one from what it sounded like when he and I was shoutin’ at each other. Ain’t got no time to consider that, though.” He pointed down the street. “Let’s get across.”

Are there lawponies in the street? Yes

Once more, the two outlaws crept forward, using the shadows of the buildings as best they could to approach the doctor’s office. But when they got close, they heard the galloping of hooves down the road and slipped back into cover. Four ponies dashed forward and paused beneath a street lamp, the candles within casting a flickering glow on their sweat-streaked bodies.

“Damn it,” Kestrel muttered under her breath, ducking back to the safety of a house’s corner. She and Tumbleweed watched the four deputies confer, and from there they began to spread out, two moving to the left and out of sight, two starting to march down the road toward the outlaws. They left the buildings alone, Kestrel was happy to see. At least that meant they didn’t check the doctor’s office and wouldn’t find Roughshod and Silver inside… assuming the two of them were even still there at the moment. But she could see the candles burning through the cracks around the door, so she knew the doctor had to be up for some reason…

“Let them pass,” Tumbleweed said, backing away from the corner. Kestrel nodded and retreated as well, crouching low in the darkness and out of sight of the moon so light wouldn't glint off of her revolver. She heard the crunch crunch crunch of horseshoes marching over grit drawing closer, closer, closer…

Kestrel uses Lady Luck (6+2) to avoid being spotted by the deputies (+2 from Hiding): Success

…and then farther, farther, farther as the two ponies passed by with only a quick glance toward Kestrel and Tumbleweed. Only when she was sure they were gone did Kestrel quietly steal forward, and when the coast was clear, she and Tumbleweed quickly crossed to the doctor’s house and lightly pounded on the door. “Silvie! It’s Kessie!” Kestrel hissed through the gap between door and frame. “You in there?”

The door opened a moment later, and silver feathers quickly pulled Kestrel inside. “Kessie! You’re alright!” Silver exclaimed on the other side, giving Kestrel a nuzzle to the cheek and letting her wings relax in relief. Tumbleweed scurried in after Kestrel and shut the door behind him, his magic propping up a chair against the handle and sliding the bolt closed. Silver grinned at him as well and ruffled her feathers. “I been watchin’ deputies go up and down the streets,” she said. “What happened?”

“I’m sure you heard the gunshots,” Tumbleweed said. “Just as much as the sheriff and his posse heard ‘em, too. But we got what we needed outta Adder, that’s for sure.” He glanced to the far end of the room, where an older unicorn stallion worked thread and a needle through the deep gash in Roughshod’s chest. “How’s Rough?”

“He’ll live, thankfully enough,” Silver said. She frowned at the doctor when he nervously glanced over his shoulder at them, and the unicorn gulped and went back to work. “Doc ain’t too happy to be tendin’ to outlaws, though. He’s plenty happy to keep his horn, though, so long as he helps us.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you, good sir,” Tumbleweed said, smiling at the doctor. “My friends and I will remember your good deeds here today. Say, how ‘bout you and I have a little chat while you work…”

While Tumbleweed crossed the floor to the doctor, hovering over his shoulder while he finished Roughshod up, Silver turned to Kestrel. “Well, Kessie? Where’s the old coot?”

“At the Viper camp,” Kestrel said. “Rattlesnake wanted him as collateral to keep us here. He was gonna trade Wanderer for Sienna, make sure he brought us to the table.”

Silver winced. “Don’t think he’ll take her body back?”

“He might, but he might send Wanderer back to us in a little wooden box if he finds out.” She rubbed her jaw with her feathers. “We gotta figure out somethin’ to do once we slip this place. Shouldn’t be too hard to lose the law if we hold tight a little bit, wait for them to lose interest and think we’re already gone into the night. From there, though…” Kestrel shook her head. “Things ain’t lookin’ good for Wanderer. I ain’t sure what to even try next.”

Sneak into the Viper camp and free Wanderer. The Vipers only got thirty or forty ponies, and we got a bunch of ‘em accounted for already here in Rock Ridge. Might be they’re even more spread out ‘round their hidey hole and they ain’t there in big numbers. We could slip in, find Wanderer, and slip out ‘fore they even know we was there. [DANGEROUS]

Try to negotiate Wanderer’s release. Only thing common bandits care about is money, and we got lots of that. We’d have to fork over a good amount of what we got saved up to get him free, though, assuming Rattlesnake’s even willin’ to let us buy Wanderer back. [RANSOM PRICE UNKNOWN]

Take Wanderer back by force. We got a showmare who’s got a Chatter gun loaded into her wagon. We draw in Rattlesnake and as many Vipers as we can during this parley he wants to have tomorrow, then cut ‘em down where they stand. The confusion should be enough to let us sweep ‘em aside and get Wanderer back. [DANGEROUS]

Abandon Wanderer. Sorry, Wanderer, but tryin’ to get you free is just gonna get us all killed, and I know you wouldn’t want that… [GANG MORALE -2]

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 49

Take Wanderer back by force: 10 Votes

Gain progress toward the following skill: Daring (3/4)

“We have a Chatter gun,” Silver offered. “We might be able to put that to good use. Them Vipers won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Kestrel rubbed her chin and frowned as she thought. “Maybe… The thing’s best used on defense where we got a bunch of ‘em comin’ at us, ‘specially in the wagon like it is. We can only shoot it one way, out the side of Trixie’s wagon where the stage pops out. But it’s a thought.” She turned her eyes toward the other end of the room, where Roughshod groaned and sat up, clutching at his chest and the stitches holding him together. “First things first, though, we gotta get outta here. Then I’ll talk to Tumbleweed about it.”

She crossed the floor to the other end of the doctor’s office, Silver following behind her, and the doctor jumped when she purposefully brushed her wing against his side. “How you feelin’, Rough?” she asked, and after shooting the doctor a sideways look, she added, “Doc treat you alright?”

“Nnrgh… Better than ever,” Roughshod grunted, hopping down from the operating table. He winced as his legs nearly buckled beneath him, but he managed to stand upright and support his own weight. “Where’s Adder? I want to mash his damn skull to a pulp. This is all his fault.”

“Easy there, Rough,” Tumbleweed cautioned him, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “You’re fixed up a little, but you ain’t ready to go crackin’ skulls. Not yet, at least.”

Roughshod has regained 1 point of Healthiness from receiving medical treatment and is now only Seriously Injured (-2 Healthiness).

“A bad day for me is still a good day for the rest of y’all,” Roughshod grunted. He worked his neck from side to side, forcing the stiffness out as best he could, and his eyes soon settled on the doctor standing across from him. “Thank you kindly, doctor. I hope we’ve reached an understandin’ after all of this. I ain’t lookin’ to come back for a follow-up, know what I mean?”

“Oh, is that the way you show your appreciation for the stallion that patched you up?” Tumbleweed scolded Roughshod. Kestrel watched with a bemused smile on her lips as Tumbleweed draped his foreleg across the doctor’s back and leaned in close. “We’re mighty thankful for your help, my kind sir,” he said, and he used his magic to retrieve a few bits from a pocket on his vest and press them into the doctor’s hooves. “Hopefully we’ll continue to be thankful after we’re gone. This is a real unfortunate injury our friend has found himself with, and we’d all be appreciative if you kept it between us friends… and nopony else. Understand me, sir?”

Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to guarantee the doctor will stay silent: Success

“I… I-I understand,” the doctor said, nervously taking the bits and tucking them away. “I-It’s my duty as a doctor to help p-ponies, no matter who they might be…”

“That’s right.” Tumbleweed smirked and patted him on the shoulder before stepping away. “Well, friends, I suppose it’s time we get movin’. I have the distinct feelin’ we ain’t wanted no more in town.”

Kestrel nodded and immediately set about directing traffic. “Silvie, go upstairs and take a peek around the buildin’ from up above. Make sure nopony’s watchin’ and waitin’ for us. Knock on the back door when we’re clear, then get to Snapshot and get back to the wagons. Me and Tumbleweed’ll get Roughshod outta town and meet you there.” When Silver nodded and took off, racing up the stairs, Kestrel turned to Rough and looked the big stallion up and down. “You able to walk?”

“Of course I can walk, you harlot,” Roughshod grunted. “You lead the way and I’ll stay glued right to your flank.”

Kestrel flicked her tail to the side. “Enjoy it while it lasts, ‘cause it’s the closest you’re gettin’.”

“Don’t think I’d want to get no closer myself, anyhow.” He frowned at her and made a face as if he’d smelled something putrid. “Smells like you’ve been outta service for a while, anyhow. I ain’t gonna be the first to go plumbin’.”

Kestrel felt her feathers bristling but she refused to let Rough’s words get under her skin. “I doubt you got a tool big enough to even start.”

Tumbleweed chuckled and put his head in his hoof. “Foals, the both of you, I swear.”

Are there deputies near the doctor’s office? No

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Kestrel opened it with a wing, the other wrapping its feathers around the grip of her revolver. When she opened it, she saw Silver nod that it was clear before the young mare took off in a dash of feathers, disappearing once more into the night.

“Coast is clear,” Kestrel said, relaying the information back to her companions. She opened the door a bit wider and slipped into the nighttime coolness of the desert air. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Roughshod staggered out after her, followed by Tumbleweed, who simply tipped his hat toward the doctor before shutting the door behind them. After a moment to check that the coast was clear, the three slipped into the darkness, leaving the town and the frantically buzzing hornets’ nest they’d kicked behind them.

It took some time to make it back to the wagons; Kestrel was happy to see them right where they’d left them, not missing or burnt to the ground. A single candle was lit behind the shuttered windows of Trixie’s wagon, and when Roughshod grunted, groaned, and sat down hard next to the wagon, the candle guttered out as somepony inside jumped. “Who goes there?!” came Trixie’s shrill voice from inside, and Tumbleweed and Kestrel snickered at each other as the rookie outlaw seemingly tripped over something and fell hard on the floor within. “Trixie is armed and dangerous! Stay back!”

“It’s us, you bumbling dolt,” Tumbleweed said, knocking on the wall next to the window. “Where’s Miss Irons?”

The shuttered window opened, and the elderly mare stuck her head out instead of Trixie. “You’re back,” she observed, and her eyes scanned over the three of them, looking for three more. “Where are the others? Where’s Wanderer?”

“Silver and Snapshot are comin’,” Tumbleweed said, and when Kestrel looked over her shoulder, she saw a familiar metallic coat glowing in the moonlight down the road, accompanying a second pony. “Wanderer… ain’t.”

Miss Irons’ eyes widened. “He isn’t? What happened to him?”

“We’re gonna get him back,” Kestrel assured her. “He’s bein’ held by the Vipers. They didn’t want us slippin’ town early, so I guess we ain’t.”

“If he’s held by the Vipers, how are we going to get him back?” Miss Irons eyed Roughshod and her stern face grew all the more harsh. “It certainly seems like finding that out was difficult enough, but taking on this whole gang?”

“They ain’t got a Chatter gun,” Kestrel said. “But we do.”

“Chatter gun?” Trixie finally popped her head out of the window next to Miss Irons and anxiously peered into the night. “But you mounted that in Trixie’s wagon. How are you supposed to use it if it’s mounted in my wagon?”

“We’d need somepony to pull it to the Vipers’ gulch, obviously.” Tumbleweed shot Trixie a grin. “You volunteerin’, lil’ missy?”

Trixie’s face went pale. “I… w-well…”

As Silver and Snapshot rejoined the camp, Tumbleweed turned toward Kestrel. “If we’re gonna take the fight to the Vipers, we better have a plan for gettin’ through this. We got the night to plan it and get whatever sleep we can manage. At noon, Rattlesnake wants to have this parley with us, so we have to strike by then. Maybe at the parley; I’m sure he’s plannin’ on ambushin’ us as well then.”

“I’d stake my life on it,” Kestrel said. “Probably have to, as well.”

Silver shuddered. “Oh, Celestia, I ain’t likin’ the sound of any of this…”

“Well, now’s our time to plan,” Tumbleweed said. “I’m open to any and all suggestions. We gotta get a good, solid plan together for this, and we gotta do it right. If we muck this up, we’ll likely all be feedin’ vultures. Rattlesnake’s probably got a plan of his own in place as well. Anybody got somethin’ they want to say, say it, and let’s discuss.”

SPECIAL POLL: SEE AUTHOR’S NOTES

Author's Note

With the 50th chapter in this story coming up next time, and at a pivotal moment in the story, I wanted to do something special for all of you. Instead of picking an option from a list of choices, I'm going to let you all decide on what you want to do and how you want to approach the attempt to get Wanderer back from the Vipers by force. Use the Gang's character sheets to get a good look at the strengths and weaknesses of the party and present a plan of action. I'll select the plan of action with the most upvotes and comments supporting it, so make sure to check back in throughout the weekend to see how things are going before I write the chapter early next week.

This is a fun little thing for you guys, but I know it could possibly get chaotic real fast, so if something ends up going terribly wrong, I'll improvise a plan for the Gang out of what I see below. At any rate, have fun!

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 50

The Gang collaboratively puts a plan together.

The outlaws and renegades puzzled over a sketch of the gulch created from Kestrel’s and Silver’s memories, tossing ideas back and forth for the better part of two hours. Many ideas rose up but were ultimately shot down for being too impractical. One such idea involved having Kestrel and Silver pull Trixie’s wagon like a sky chariot and rain death from above with it, but Trixie meekly informed the rest of the Gang that her wagon had no featherweight enchantments on it and was far too heavy to take to the air. Roughshod pouted when he heard that, while the Gang’s two pegasi merely let out a sigh of relief that they didn’t have to try and drag that heavy and cumbersome target over the Vipers’ heads.

But the wagon and the Chatter gun featured prominently into the shape of the plan as Tumbleweed molded everypony’s suggestions together into something that might actually work. It gave the Gang something they could work with, a staging point they could unleash any number of ideas from. When Silver lamented the fact they didn’t have Siena’s body to place on the front seat of the wagon and lure in the Vipers from afar, Trixie acknowledged that as an illusionist, they didn’t have to have the mare’s body, not when they had a suitable replacement. Everypony’s eyes collectively fell on Kestrel when she said that; not only was the gunslinger of a similar color to the dead mare, but the pony who played the role of Sienna would be on the front lines when things invariably went south, and would need to be good with a revolver. After Snapshot, Kestrel was the Gang’s best gun, and that made the choice obvious.

With the core of the plan in place, Tumbleweed began to divvy up additional responsibilities to keep the Vipers from getting too comfortable and springing whatever trap they may have laid for them in turn. Seeing as she still had plenty of fireworks, Trixie was offered a chance to redeem herself in turning them into deadly missiles to rain down on the Vipers from the nearby canyon walls. Snapshot volunteered (or rather, was volunteered) to accompany her with one of the scoped rifles seized in the train robbery. Accurate and deadly fire from afar would keep everypony safe from any unexpected threats, and if he had an opportunity to shoot Rattlesnake himself, he would take it.

That left Silver Wings, Roughshod, and Miss Irons unaccounted for. Miss Irons, old as she was, was chosen to stay behind and protect the Gang’s money and supplies; after all, risking the second wagon by dragging it into the fight with the Vipers was out of the question, and so was leaving it behind unwatched. Though the old mare was adamant on joining the Gang in helping get Wanderer back, some quick words from Tumbleweed managed to convince her to stay. As for Silver, her place on a cloud in the sky was obvious, given her unmatched speed and grace on the wing, and that left Roughshod, too hurt to fight it out on hoof, to operate the Chatter gun once it was time.

Though a few more ideas were discussed, such as sending somepony in to sneak Wanderer out of the Vipers’ camp while the rest of the Gang distracted them at the parley, those plans were quickly discarded. Tumbleweed refused to split the Gang any more than he already planned on doing, as sending one pony in alone into the Viper camp was far too dangerous given how few capable and unhurt ponies they had at the moment. Other ideas included setting a brush fire along the edge of the canyon and hope the smoke would draw ponies over and thin out their numbers, and simply ignoring the parley altogether and attacking the camp itself in force while Rattlesnake led most of his followers out to the arranged meeting. However, Tumbleweed ultimately decided against both of those plans for the same reason: they were too unreliable in drawing Vipers away long enough to get in and out looking for Wanderer, and if Rattlesnake took Wanderer with him in the first place, then they’d be raiding the camp for nothing and likely get him killed in the process, not to mention get themselves trapped in the gulch with Vipers all around them. And Kestrel didn’t even want to think about how they would get the wagon and the Chatter gun all the way to the camp without being spotted by the Vipers…

But once they had the rough framework of a plan in place, the Gang raised some temporary accommodations for the night and tried to catch some rest before noon. It was well into the wee hours of the morning by the time Kestrel tossed her duster down on a scraggly patch of dead grass in the hopes it would give her something softer to sleep on than hard rock and cracked ground, unwilling to dig out her lean-to and sleeping mat for a single night in the rough. She took a cigarette to calm her nerves, a bottle of whiskey to chase down the sickly bitter aftertaste, and stared up through the clear night sky at the millions of stars so infinitely beyond her reach.

After some time, however, she heard the crunching of hooves on dirt approaching. Yawning, she raised her head and saw Silver warily approaching, metallic feathers agleam in the moonlight above them. Rubbing some the sleep from her eyes with a wing, Kestrel forced herself to sit up and nod at the younger mare. “Silvie. Can’t sleep?”

“No,” Silver confessed, sighing as she sat down across from Kestrel. “I’m worried.”

“Bout tomorrow?” Kestrel blew air through her lips and shook her head. “Don’t be. Them Vipers, they’re green and undisciplined. They ain’t like us. They ain’t gonna put up a fight once we surprise ‘em with the Chatter gun.”

“No, it ain’t that.” Silver looked left, right, and lowered her head. “I’m worried ‘bout Wanderer. What if Rattlesnake’s already gone and killed him?”

“Well, Adder didn’t seem to think he was gonna do that,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “He said Rattlesnake just wanted him as collateral. Seems Sienna was one of his favorite toys, and he don’t want us leavin’ town without her, so he gotta have a way to make us stay.”

“That don’t mean he couldn’t kill him now and wait for us to bumble on in there tryin’ to get him free,” Silver said. “We don’t know what’s goin’ on.”

“Yeah, yeah. We don’t; you’re right. But that ain’t changin’ anything.” Kestrel gestured vaguely in the direction of the Viper, somewhere many miles to the south. “We’re already plannin’ on goin’ there, shootin’ the place up. If Rattlesnake wants to ambush us, well, he’s gonna have to be ready for an ambush of our own. Who knows if he’ll be expectin’ one or not; he might think we’re too worried about Wanderer to try anythin’ funny. Thing is, us worryin’ ‘bout Wanderer’s led to all this plannin’ anyway.”

She could tell she hadn’t exactly reassured the younger pegasus, so she gave her a pat on the back and passed the whiskey bottle to her. “Don’t you worry ‘bout him none. He’ll be fine. Rattlesnake ain’t gonna know what hit him, and once he’s dead and Wanderer’s back with us, it’s off to Hoofston. New opportunities await us.”

Silver stared at the bottle of whiskey in her hooves. “I guess you’re right,” she said, finally taking a sip of it. She grimaced as the harsh alcohol hit her throat, and passed the bottle back. “You just be careful out there, right Kessie? You and Tumbleweed and Rough, the three of you’re gonna be right in the middle of the fightin’. Don’t… don’t get hurt.”

“I ain’t,” Kestrel assured her. “And if I do, I was already hurt to begin with, so you’ll never know the difference.”

“Oh, quiet.” Silver managed a smile and, after a moment, tossed her own overcoat on the ground next to Kestrel’s duster and laid back on it. “Guess I might as well enjoy the pretty lights some ‘fore mornin’ comes.”

“It’s a good way to fall asleep,” Kestrel said, laying down as well. “Good way to relax and unwind.”

“Yeah… Maybe I’ll get a telescope or somethin’ in Hoofston. Look at the stars and the moon real good.” She chuckled. “The night sky always pretty out here in the desert…”

Kestrel hummed her agreement and set her eyes to picking out the few constellations she could remember: the snaking lines of the hydra, the sword of the old pegasus god Ofnir, the bright spot to the north ponies called ‘Luna’s Little Sun.’ There were many more she didn’t know the names to, but her parents hadn’t exactly been willing to give her and her brother a proper education between the gambling and the drinking. It was a wonder she knew anything at all besides poverty and the fear of her mother staggering home from the saloon, drunk as could be, ready to strike her or Kite for the smallest mistake…

The stars soon set Silver to sleep, and Kestrel didn’t last too much longer. Before she knew it, the sun had already risen to about nine o’clock, and now only three hours out from the parley, the gunslinger forced herself to her hooves once more, scarfed down some breakfast, and began to aid the rest of the Gang in preparing for their plan.

It was time to have a meeting with a snake.

Kestrel, Roughshod, and Silver roll to regain a point of Healthiness while resting: Fail, Succeess, Fail

Kestrel, Roughshod, and Silver are all Grazed and suffering -1 to Healthiness (6, 7, 4, respectively)

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

Since the leading suggestion (4 votes) was for something impractical for the Gang to pull off, and given how sparsely most of the suggestions were voted on, I decided to cobble together the best ideas from everybody who commented and create a plan for the Gang based off of that. The Gang will attempt to execute the resulting plan and get Wanderer back on Friday.

Thanks to everyone who commented!

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 51

The ride from the Gang’s temporary camp toward the entrance of the Vipers’ home territory left Kestrel anxious and antsy. It was only made worse by the fact she had to pull Trixie’s wagon with a rope bridle around her snout—a snout redder than she was used to. Trixie had spent ten minutes before they set out layering illusions over Kestrel’s body to change her from a notorious pegasus outlaw to a scrawny earth pony. When she was finished, and when Kestrel had looked in a pocket mirror to see how she looked, she didn’t find herself in the reflection, but Sienna. “Trixie tried her best with the scars,” the magician said with a shrug. “But she had so many that I don’t remember how they all looked.”

“It should be fine,” Kestrel assured her, though she frowned when she realized her voice was still the same. “Couldn’t fix my voice?”

“That’s very complicated magic,” Trixie informed her. “It’s a fair bit of work to make an enchantment to change a pony’s voice in real time. And… well…” Trixie tapped her hooves together. “Trixie never had a formal magical education, so…”

“But it will hold up?” Tumbleweed had asked her, leaning against the side of the wagon.

“So long as she keeps her wings at her sides,” Trixie said. “The illusion hiding them is going to fall apart if she tests it too much. Once she starts flying, it’ll end.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kestrel had said. “Best of luck, Trixie.”

“Yes… some luck, for once, would be welcomed.” With a nod, Trixie had then left to gather her makeshift rockets and set out for the canyon with Snapshot, hoping to be in position by the time the rest of the Gang arrived.

Once everything was in order, Tumbleweed set the plan in motion. Roughshod hid himself in the wagon with the Chatter gun, Tumbleweed took the driver’s seat at the front, and Kestrel found herself bridled and hitched to the wagon. Roughshod had had a hearty laugh at the sight before he climbed into the back. “Make sure you pull like an earth pony, now,” he told her. “Don’t be afraid to hurt your lil’ hollow pegasus bones. Put your back into it.”

“Oh, can it,” Kestrel grumbled at him, and she made sure give the wagon a lurch forward before Roughshod stepped inside so he missed the step up and cracked his head against the wood. Then, with Silver flying up ahead to alert them to any danger or ambushes, the Gang set out to get Wanderer back.

Along the way, Tumbleweed gave Kestrel some more fine-tuned instructions. “Don’t unhitch yourself when we get there,” Tumbleweed told her. “Get the left side of the wagon pointed forward and wait for me to untie you. Gotta make it look convincin’.”

“I can do that,” Kestrel said.

“Can you?” Roughshod shouted through the wagon’s cracked open window. “You been workin’ on your impression of that sad sack of misery you’re replacin’?”

“Maybe we shoulda made you be Sienna,” Kestrel shot back. “I’d like to see you as a little mare.”

“Guess it’s a real shame I’m too big for our magician’s illusions, eh?”

“Yeah, real cryin’ shame if there ever was one.”

“Focus,” Tumbleweed hissed at them. “Rough, you don’t exist, remember that? You ain’t real ‘til I give the wagon a good kick, then you pop open that stage and start shootin’ at everythin’ you see. That’s when you’re allowed to start talkin’. Understand?”

“Yes, boss,”

“Obviously you don’t, ‘cause you can’t answer me if you ain’t real.” Kestrel snickered at that, and Tumbleweed resumed his instructions. “Keep your head low, act scared, and don’t do anythin’ without a scared jump and only after I shout it. I ain’t so sure about all them scars Trixie put on you, and if Rattlesnake wanted Sienna back so badly, he might be able to see through ‘em, so keep your face to the dirt and don’t let him. Assumin’ he’s willin’ to trade Wanderer for us, tackle him as soon as you get to his side, and that’s when I’ll have Rough start shootin’. He shouldn’t hit you if you eat dirt.” He looked back toward the window on the wagon. “You got that, Rough?”

Silence.

Tumbleweed smirked and Kestrel chuckled again. “See, he can learn.”

“I’m amazed.”

A sudden angry kick against the back door frame made Kestrel stagger off-balance. For somepony who didn’t exist, Rough sure had a way of making sure Kestrel knew about it.

Soon enough, Kestrel pulled the wagon across the desert sands and within sight of the Vipers’ gulch. She’d taken things slow to give Trixie and Snapshot time to position themselves and to not wear herself out pulling the wagon. They hadn’t seen anypony watching them, and Silver hadn’t dived out of the sky to alert them about any danger. Kestrel just hoped that Silver was keeping a sharp eye toward the ground, but as a few white thunderheads began to drift in from the horizon, she lost sight of their eye in the sky and her shadow on the ground.

Silver checks from above to see if there’s anything to be concerned about: Critical Fail

Without any warning from Silver, Kestrel pulled the wagon across the dusty ground and closer to the Vipers’ canyon. The red ridges of the gulch rose out of the ground in front of her, and if all had gone according to plan, Snapshot and Trixie were positioned somewhere up there, ready to rain fire and lead from above. They passed by withering cacti and scraggly bushes, and even the low ridge where the Gang had made a stand after the carriage robbery so long ago. But it wasn’t until they crossed that ridge did Kestrel spot the Vipers emerging from the shade of the cliffs, slowly striding forward to meet them. It wasn’t any surprise to her that they were armed, and more than a few turned their weapons toward her and Tumbleweed.

How many Vipers are there? 15

Kestrel did a quick count of them all. Fifteen ponies moved forward to meet her, forming a semicircle around the wagon and slowly moving in. Tumbleweed gave a sharp shout, and Kestrel made sure to flinch and turn sharply to the right, pointing the left side of the wagon toward the Vipers. Only then did Tumbleweed hop down and tear the bridle off of her face with such force that she genuinely winced and recoiled in pain.

“Head low,” Tumbleweed reminded her in a soft whisper. “I think I see the bastard now.”

Kestrel managed a peek down the pass through Sienna’s rough bangs. One pony stepped forward out of the crowd, and simply by the way he moved, Kestrel knew it had to be Rattlesnake. His steps were fluid and venomous like his namesake, and even from this far away she could see the scars at the corners of his muzzle, splitting across his lips like protruding fangs. A wide, dusty gaucho hat shielded his face from the sun, its black snakeskin turning gray from age, and making his fiery orange eyes seem to glow from underneath. Two wings popped out of the slits in his traveling cloak, and the polished ivory wing grips of two revolvers protruded near his shoulders. Compared to the rest of the Vipers Kestrel had come across so far in Rock Ridge, even Adder, Rattlesnake seemed menacing, cruel, and most importantly of all, intelligent. Dumb cruelty was nothing to worry over; smart cruelty was something else.

Is Wanderer with Rattlesnake? Yes

As concerned as she was with Rattlesnake, however, she had to hold in a sigh of relief when she saw Wanderer being marched out behind him. He had cuts and bruises to his face, probably from trying to resist the ponies that dragged him back the night before, but other than that he seemed to be okay. One of the Vipers prodded him along with a sawed-off shotgun in his mouth, and the red pegasus grumbled back at him whenever he did so.

“That’s a promisin’ start,” Tumbleweed muttered, and he used his magic to roughly drag Kestrel out away from the wagon. When he tossed Kestrel in front of him, the gunslinger did her best to keep her wings at her sides and take the fall on her shoulder to keep Trixie’s illusion up. She once more felt Tumbleweed’s magic on the back of her neck and she stood up along with his pull, and she flinched when she felt the barrel of one of his revolvers touch the back of her head. She didn’t hear the click of the hammer being drawn—thankfully Tumbleweed wasn’t taking his act that far.

The Vipers moved into earshot, though Tumbleweed stayed close by the wagon, ready to kick the side and let Roughshod start shooting. When they were close enough, Rattlesnake’s lackeys stopped and pointed their weapons at Tumbleweed and Kestrel, while Rattlesnake, Wanderer, and the pony guarding him continued to advance. When they finally came to a stop, they were little more than fifteen yards away, and Kestrel could feel Rattlesnake’s eyes on her, even though she pointedly kept her head low and avoided making eye contact with him. When the pegasus spoke, his words were sickeningly sweet. “Sienna. Oh, what mess have you gotten yourself into, little one?”

“She had a little vacation,” Tumbleweed said, answering for Kestrel. “She needed some time away from you.” He shifted his focus to Wanderer. “Are you alright, friend?”

“Their manners leave much to be desired,” he said, glaring back at the pony behind him. “Though they’re generous with their whiskey.”

“I try to be a gracious host.” Rattlesnake stepped closer, looked Tumbleweed up and down, and rubbed a wingtip against his chin. “So, you’re the gang that moved in from the north and started making things difficult for my family?”

“We didn’t see the property markers,” Tumbleweed replied. “Didn’t know somepony else was already so invested in this podunk town. Didn’t think anypony would bother.”

“Strange things can happen under the heat of the desert sun,” Rattlesnake said, and his tongue ran over his lips, flitting between those fang-like scars. “I have a close relationship with her.”

Tumbleweed raised an eyebrow. “Do you? I didn’t think you were our timeless princess’ type.”

“I survived a week under her sun without a drop of water when I was twelve,” Rattlesnake said. “I killed snakes with my hooves to eat their meat and quench my thirst with their blood. I have survived the worst this world can throw at me. The sheriff of Rock Ridge tried to get the gangs to kill each other with gold many moons ago. I killed them off and took the gold for myself. I am a survivor. And I will not tolerate ponies who think they can threaten me or my family.”

“I think much the same way,” Tumbleweed said. “I don’t like it when somepony absconds with one of my own in the middle of the night.”

“I think we can both agree to that,” Rattlesnake said with a sickening smile.

Kestrel could feel the tension in the air, taut and tight like a whip ready to snap. She wondered if she’d hear the crack.

Does Rattlesnake intend to exchange prisoners? Yes

After what felt like an eternity, Rattlesnake shoved Wanderer forward with a wing. “Sometimes the easiest solution to a problem is to come to an agreement with the other side,” he said. “We return what is rightfully ours and go our separate ways. I don’t think I should have to clarify any further what I will do to you if I see you in Rock Ridge again.”

“We can tell when we ain’t wanted,” Tumbleweed said. Then he gave Kestrel a shove as well. “Sienna.”

“Wait.” Before Kestrel could move, Rattlesnake’s voice made her freeze. Hooves slowly approached, then: “Show me your face, little one.”

Breath hitching in her throat, Kestrel slowly, slowly raised her head until she made eye contact with Rattlesnake’s cruel, sharp glare. Silence hung over the assembled ponies, heavy and oppressive. Rattlesnake’s eyes left Kestrel’s own and began to count the scars on her face, neck, and shoulders, one by one by one.

That was when Kestrel could hear the crack of the whip.

Does Kestrel’s disguise hold up? No

Rattlesnake’s lips parted in a sneer. “You aren’t Sienna,” he hissed, and his wings moved to his revolvers.

Combatants DRAW using Gunslinger:

Kestrel: 16

Tumbleweed: 14

Rattlesnake: 10

Vipers: 10

Wanderer: 9

“I ain’t,” Kestrel agreed, and her illusions dissipated as her wing snatched the masked revolver faster and fired.

Kestrel shoots the Viper guarding Wanderer: Critical Fail

But the illusion shattering off of her face interfered with her aim, and when she finally tracked the pony with the shotgun to Wanderer’s back, he had shoved Wanderer aside and was diving for cover. Her bullet missed by inches, yet still found blood in the form of a grazing wound to the old stallion’s wing. Red feathers popped into the air, and Wanderer hit the ground hard with a yell.

Tumbleweed kicked the side of the wagon in the same instant, and without warning, the stage popped free, revealing Roughshod behind the mounted gun as the curtains parted. As soon as he had a clear shot, the big stallion turned the crank next to the gun’s six barrels, and a barrage of lead tore through the sand around the gathered Vipers. Four dropped in an instant, spraying blood from their wounds as the heavy caliber rounds ripped through their bodies, and the others around them scattered for cover or simply to get out of the line of fire. Then he turned his gun on Rattlesnake and fired, and the bullet took off the Viper’s hat and tore through his ear when he tried to duck out of the way. Staggering away from the shot, Rattlesnake fired back at Tumbleweed, but the bullet harmlessly sailed over his head and embedded itself in the side of Trixie’s wagon.

The various Vipers that had showed up to the parley attempted to half-heartedly return fire; they were more concerned with dodging the barrage of lead Roughshod turned on them from the Chatter gun. A few shots bit into the ground around Kestrel and she hopped back, taking flight and trying to get some height to make her a harder target to hit. Wanderer, for his part, immediately forced himself to his hooves and scrambled for the wagon, diving through the open side as Roughshod tossed an empty magazine for the Chatter gun aside and slammed a new one into the receiver on the top.

It was then that Kestrel heard the bugle calls over the sound of gunfire.

Did Silver miss something important from up above? Yes

Shadows flitted across the ground, and when Kestrel looked up and toward the source of the noise, she saw three wings of pegasi diving out of the sky. They held repeaters in their hooves, and the moment Kestrel saw the glint of the sun against their lapels and the rainbow wake of the leader, she knew what she was dealing with.

The cavalry had arrived.

All she had to do was share a quick look with Tumbleweed to know whatever their plan was, it’d just been thrown out the window.

Flee the combat area. We’ve got Wanderer, and them Vipers is likely to give that Rainbow Dash character a fight she can sink her teeth into. Let’s let her and Rattlesnake duke it out and we’ll slip away in the confusion, hopefully meet up again with Trixie, Snapshot, and Silver somewhere safer.

Hunker down until the fighting moves on. If we try to flee, we’ll get spotted and cut down from above, especially if Rainbow Dash recognizes me. Plus, we’d be leavin’ Snapshot and Trixie behind; they can’t get away fast, and they’re behind everypony. We hold up in the wagon, wait for the fightin’ to move past us, then make a break for it when the coast is clear.

Stand and fight the Vipers. The military ain’t gonna pay too much attention to us; the Vipers are more numerous and they’ll put up the bigger fight. If we help cut down Rattlesnake and his crew, maybe they’ll be willin’ to look the other way and let us go for our help.

Stand and fight the military. The military’s the real threat, ‘cause they’re the Law without all the red tape. The Vipers and us is outlaws, and they’d like to see us all dead. Maybe we can find common cause with them, just for this moment.

Stand and fight everypony. It’s everypony for ‘emselves!

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 52

Flee the combat area: 6 Votes

“Rough!” Tumbleweed shouted over the roar of combat around them. “Hitch! Let’s go!”

“Fuck!” The big stallion slapped the Chatter gun in frustration, nearly knocking it out of its mount, and hopped off of the stage. “Kessie! Help me fold this stage up!”

“Celestia damn it all!” Kestrel cursed, dropping to the ground and adding her muscle to Roughshod’s to fold the stage back into the side of the wagon. Thankfully it was light and expertly balanced, a necessity given Trixie’s previous lonely touring across the country, and the cables and counterweights did most of the work for them. When that was done, Kestrel hopped over the wagon and landed on the other side, using the wood for cover between her, the Vipers, and the cavalry descending on the gulch from above. “Wanderer!” she shouted, slapping the side of the wagon. “Kick open the back door and turn the gun that way! We’re outta here!”

“Why don’t we just ditch the damn wagon?” came Wanderer’s voice from inside. “It’ll just slow us down!”

“You wanna get caught in the open desert with nothin’ to keep ya safe from the pegasi in the sky?!” Tumbleweed shouted back. “Didn’t think so! Rough, move!”

Combatants DRAW using Gunslinger, Roughshod PULLS using Muscle

Tumbleweed: 14

Kestrel: 13

Cavalry: 12

Rainbow Dash: 11

Wanderer: 10

Rattlesnake: 9 (Gunslinger has tiebreaker priority over Muscle)

Roughshod: 9

Vipers: 4

Chaos reigned around the gulch as Vipers and cavalry fired back at each other, bullets biting into the dust and dirt every which way. As Roughshod began to pull the wagon away, Tumbleweed hauled himself back up to the driver’s seat and fired a parting shot at Rattlesnake, who had picked himself up from the ground and was readying a shot at the wagon.

Tumbleweed shoots Rattlesnake: Critical Success

Rattlesnake rolls Healthiness (6-1 from Grazed) to determine damage: Critical Success

Rattlesnake remains Grazed (-1 Healthiness)

For a moment, Kestrel thought Tumbleweed had shot the Vipers’ leader in the heart when the stallion fell back to the ground. But to her surprise, he got up again, a bent golden medallion slipping out from beneath his overcoat. Cursing, Kestrel quickly realized that the medallion must have blocked Tumbleweed’s bullet, and she pointed her own revolver at the Viper to hopefully finish the job.

Kestrel shoots at Rattlesnake: Critical Fail

…Only for her revolver’s hammer to click on a dud round. Blinking in surprise, Kestrel quickly worked the action to get another shot in, but a few stray shots of gunfire forced her to drop her head once more, and she had to hop onto the side of the wagon as it began to rumble away to not be left behind without cover. She climbed halfway up the side, holding on with her hooves while her wings worked her revolvers, only for a bullet to perforate the wood right in front of her muzzle. She looked up to see the fading trail of a rainbow veering toward her, sunlight glinting off of the barrel, and a scowl on a familiar pegasus’ face.

Does First Lieutenant Rainbow Dash recognize Kestrel in the confusion? Yes

“Uhh, Rough? Better start pullin’ hard!” Kestrel shouted over her shoulder. “That Rainbow Dash pony is here!”

“Have Wanderer shoot her!” Rough shouted back, straining and finally getting the wagon moving at a decent clip. “All I can do is pull, damn it!”

“Wanderer!” Tumbleweed shouted, relaying the message. “Shoot the rainbow broad down!”

The Chatter gun roared out the back of the wagon, but the rainbow officer twirled away from the barrage. “I can’t get a good angle out the back!” Wanderer shouted from within. “This damn thing can’t shoot up that high!”

“Then just keep shootin’ at everypony else!” Kestrel said, firing off a few pot shots with her revolver. “You got nearly as many bullets as Rough’s got fleas!”

Tumbleweed opened his mouth to say something, but a bullet from Rattlesnake grazed across his cheek, and he tumbled down into the driver’s seat by instinct. Wiping the blood off of his cheek, Tumbleweed kicked the floor of the driver’s seat and shouted down at Roughshod. “C’mon, Rough, put some damn leg into it!”

“If I tear open my stitches it’s your damn fault!” Roughshod shouted back, but he nevertheless poured on the speed and set the wagon rolling at a rumble only a stallion as strong as he could manage. The gulch began to fade behind them, along with the chaotic shooting of the Vipers and the Cavalry as the two sides fought for their lives.

But they weren’t in the clear yet. Breaking off from the fight to give chase was Rainbow Dash and a wing of eight cavalryponies, their repeaters cracking off shots as Roughshod hauled the wagon across the open desert dust as fast as he could. Kestrel flung herself into the driver’s seat next to Tumbleweed where she could use the roof of the wagon and the seat back as cover and cursed when she saw they were still being pursued. “Damn it, Wanderer, keep shootin’!”

Combatants DRAW using Gunslinger, Roughshod PULLS using Muscle:

Tumbleweed: 18

Kestrel: 18

Rainbow Dash: 17

Silver: 14

Roughshod: 14

Wanderer: 9

Cavalry: 5

“Chase off their leader!” Tumbleweed shouted, firing off a shot at the rainbow pegasus leading the cavalry wing. His bullet struck her wing and tore out a chunk of feathers, making her falter but failing to drop her out of the sky. Kestrel fired as well, sending the officer rolling right to avoid, her shot as well, and when she tried to fire back with her revolver, she accidentally fumbled it out of her mouth and had to dive down to catch it again instead of taking a shot.

As she attempted to recover, however, Silver Wings dived down on her from above, firing her revolver from nearly point-blank as she divebombed the officer. Blood and blue feathers burst into the air, and Rainbow Dash began to fall, only to miraculously catch herself and shake off what Kestrel thought at first glance was a grievous injury. The sight of silver feathers blurring through the air put an excited grin on Kestrel’s face, and she kicked the floorboard of the driver’s seat. “C’mon, Rough! We got Silvie with us, let’s go!”

“Ain’t the best place for it,” Roughshod grunted back, swerving the wagon around scattered red rocks and the occasional withering cactus. “I see some clear ground up ahead, though!”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that!” Tumbleweed shouted. “We’ll just keep killin’ ‘em all ‘til they get the message!”

But it wasn’t Wanderer who connected with a spray of bullets; it was the cavalry, turning their attention to the pony that just struck their leader. A hail of gunfire chased after Silver as she dashed back to the wagon, and just before she could land safely with Kestrel and Tumbleweed, a bullet went through her back and out near her navel. Blood streaked the roof of wagon as she hit it hard, and Kestrel shouted in dismay and dragged Silver into the seat next to her.

Silver is now Critically Injured and suffers -3 to Healthiness.

“Shit!” Tumbleweed shouted, firing a few more shots up at the cavalry before dumping the empty shells from his revolvers and slotting more into their place. “Kessie, how’s she look?!”

“I’m… fine!” Silver coughed, red staining her teeth. She quivered and pressed her hoof to her gut, and it came away deep red. “Don’t… worry ‘bout me!”

“Stay low,” Kestrel growled at her, pressing Silvie low and tearing her bandana from her neck to stuff it in the younger mare’s exit wound. “We’ll getcha fixed up when we get outta this, just hold on, hold on…”

Of course, as she dumped the empty shells from her revolvers and reloaded them alongside Tumbleweed, she bit hard enough into her lip to draw blood. At the rate things were going, getting out alive was hardly a guarantee…

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

I decided to cut the chapter early here, as it was going to go on for a while longer and my dice roller bot decided to kill itself in the middle, which forced me to resort to an online dice roller and post screenshots of the rolls. That got messy and really annoying to deal with real fast, so I'm going to stop it here and wait until the next normal update day on Friday to continue. See you all then!

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 53

Combatants DRAW using Gunslinger, Roughshod PULLS using Muscle:

Rainbow Dash (16)

Wanderer (13)

Tumbleweed (11)

Roughshod (11)

Kestrel (10)

Cavalry (10)

Silver (8)

Kestrel barely had any time to ready her revolver after helping Silver slump down into her seat before a bullet ripped off the tip of her left ear, leaving her flinching back in surprise. The rainbow lieutenant, though now dripping blood down her right side, bared her teeth around the grip of her own revolver as she fired at Kestrel and the fleeing wagon. A chatter of Chatter gun fire answered the officer, and though she was able to twirl high to evade it, the hail of lead managed to catch three cavarlyponies as they took aim at the wagon and sent them falling out of the sky. The rest of the wing followed their officer up above the line of fire, though all seemed concerned with the death flying their way.

“I’ve had enough of the damn military!” Tumbleweed shouted over the roar of the gunfire, his magic firing both revolvers simultaneously after the chasing pegasi. His bullets found the chest of another cavalrypony, who joined her comrades in arms on the ground as a crumpled pile of bones and feathers. As he tried to track the dispersing and encircling soldiers, he cast a glance back over his seat at Roughshod. “Rough, we need to go, now!”

“You wanna go?!” Roughshod shouted back over his shoulder. “Fine! Let’s go!”

Roughshod uses Muscle (8) to pull away from the fighting: Critical Success

Kestrel almost fell off the wagon as the muscular stallion put on another burst of speed. The wheels on Trixie’s traveling stage rattled back and forth as they cut across the pebbles and rocks embedded in the desert sand, and a cloud of dust rose up from the back of the wagon, partially obscuring their view of the pursuing cavalry. As the Gang began to pull away from the pursuing ponies, two cavalryponies broke off to tend to their fallen, and only the officer and two straining soldiers kept up the dogged pursuit.

“Just like that, Rough!” Kestrel shouted, taking aim at the rainbow pegasus leading the charge. “Run like you’re chasin’ your momma’s plot!” She fired, but Rainbow Dash swooped out of the way, and it only tore her hat from her head, leaving the cavalry cap to flutter uselessly to the ground in her wake. Kestrel immediately ducked back down when a few repeater shots sailed after the wagon, but with the cloud of dust Roughshod threw up behind them, their shots sailed wide.

Silver coughed, red staining her lip, and tried to fire back at the chasing cavalry, but her shaky wings couldn’t get the gun on target, and Kestrel had to force her to sit back down when she started firing uselessly into the air. “Calm down, Silvie,” Kestrel scolded her, using her spotted feathers to wipe away some of Silver’s blood and make her sit down again. “Quit tryin’ to do too much. You done enough, girl, you done enough. Let it be.”

Roughshod successfully loses the pursuing ponies.

It didn’t take long before the cavalry officer and her two remaining soldiers began to slow down, letting Roughshod pull away from them as the Gang fled further and further out into open desert. Led on a wild chase so far away from the rest of her unit, it seemed that the Lieutenant decided to abandon pursuit and return to focusing on the Vipers. Her rainbow wake glowed briefly in the blue backdrop of the sky as she turned around, and soon the gunfire was but a distant echo from the gulch the Gang had left behind. Everypony let out a sigh of relief as it their dangerous flight ended—save for Silver, who could only let out a few harsh coughs.

“Rough, take us back to Miss Irons. We need to get set to move onto Hoofston,” Tumbleweed said, turning his attention to the grievously wounded mare next to him. His horn glowed his pale hue, and its magical aura settled on Silver’s wounds as he pulled the bloody bandana aside. “Hold still, Silvie, I can help getcha patched up.”

Does Tumbleweed know any healing spells to treat Silver? Yes

Tumbleweed attempts to heal Silver: Fail

Silver remains Critically Injured but is now Stable

Silver moaned as Tumbleweed pinched and fused her skin back together to help stem the bleeding, but Tumbleweed still frowned as he worked. Kestrel watched with concern as he shook his head back and forth. “She gonna be alright?” she asked him.

“She’ll be fine, but I ain’t no trained doctor,” Tumbleweed said as he finished his work. “I can stop the bleedin’, but all the rest of that injury’s gonna have to heal on its own. That or we find another doctor to take her to, but I think the one in Rock Ridge is outta the question.”

“Yeah, that door’s firmly shut,” Kestrel agreed. As Roughshod slowed the wagon down to a more relaxed pace, the gunslinger turned her head back in the direction of the Vipers’ camp. “You think Snapshot and Trixie are alright?”

“Assumin’ that lousy magician didn’t pull no dumb stunts, Snap’ll get her outta there in one piece,” Tumbleweed assured her. “He’s got quick wits and a quicker trigger. Plus, they got all them rockets if they really need ‘em… they should be fine.”

“I sure hope so,” Kestrel said with a shake of her head. “Don’t think we got enough strength to go on a rescue mission for the rescue mission.”

“Not after this disaster,” Tumbleweed agreed. He wiped away some crusting blood on the grazing cut across his cheek and frowned. “We need to get outta Rock Ridge, find a spot to set up camp near Hoofston, and just lie low for a week or two. Let things cool down ‘fore we start sendin’ out feelers again. I want everypony to be healthy again before we start seein’ what sort of mayhem we can cause in our new home.”

Kestrel nodded, gave Silvie another concerned look, and finally holstered her revolvers. She sat next to the younger mare with her wing wrapped around her for warmth all the way back to the temporary camp. But she didn’t truly quit holding her breath until the saw the second of the Gang’s wagons safely where they’d left it, Miss Irons sitting on the roof with a shotgun across her lap. The elder mare let a rare smile onto her muzzle for a few moments before burying it once again under a stern frown, and she gingerly climbed her way down to the ground and approached Roughshod and the Gang as they pulled into camp. “Well?” she asked, her eyes immediately flying to Tumbleweed’s. “Where is he?”

Tumbleweed didn’t need to answer; Wanderer stepping out of the back of the wagon was all the answer she needed. The two senior ponies of the Gang wasted no time coming together for an embrace, and Miss Irons let out a weary yet relieved sigh when she pressed her cheek against Wanderer’s. “You damn idiot,” she muttered, sliding closer to him when he wrapped ruddy wings around her back. “You Celestia-damned idiot.”

“I wouldn’t be me if I got smart,” Wanderer coyly replied. “You know that.”

“Oh, do I ever…”

Tumbleweed smirked as he watched them embrace, but only for a moment. Then he turned to Kestrel. “C’mon, Kessie, let’s get Silvie tended to in the wagon and start getting things set to roll out.”

Once the two leaders of the Gang managed to get Silver more or less comfortable in the back of Trixie’s wagon, they spent some time making sure everypony else was cared for. Roughshod made sure everypony knew about how he’d outrun an entire wing of cavalry after getting stabbed through the chest the night before, and all without tearing his stitches out either, and Tumbleweed promised everypony a celebration once they were safely in Hoofston. That sentiment was only redoubled when Snapshot and Trixie managed to make their way back to the camp before nightfall, with the sun low in the west. According to Snapshot, they’d only had a few straggler Vipers to take care of; then they laid low and let the cavalry chew their way through Rattlesnake’s camp. To hear Snapshot tell it, it was a dull encounter; to hear Trixie tell it, however, it was apparently a fight that would go down in the history books for all ages. Kestrel sided on the safe bet and chose to believe something in the middle, though neither of the two ponies could confirm what happened to Rattlesnake, his gang, or the gold in the middle of his camp. As far as everypony was concerned, however, that didn’t matter; it was on to Hoofston, leaving Rock Ridge behind once and for all.

As the sun finally set, Roughshod hitched himself up to the Gang’s wagon full of loot, Trixie took command of her own wagon, and the outlaws fled east into the dim dusk, chasing their own shadows.

Surviving her encounters in Rock Ridge has allowed Kestrel to gain more experience and can advance one of her attributes or progress toward a quirk or skill.

Healthiness +1

Gunslinger +1

Muscle +1

Sweet Talker +1

Scholar +1

Instincts +1

Lady Luck +1

Cautious: +2

Daring: +2

Showmare: +2

Interrogator: +2

Clash with the Vipers Summary:

The Gang’s morale has improved after saving Wanderer from the Vipers and evading the cavalry without taking any casualties

Moving on from Rock Ridge has reduced Law Attention by 1 to 2 (Moderate).

Kestrel has gained honor for upholding her oath and helping Wanderer escape, no matter the danger (+25)

First Lieutenant Rainbow Dash survived the encounter with the Gang.

Rattlesnake’s fate is unknown.

Moving to a new town has reduced the local bounties on Kestrel and Silver Wings to $0

Gang Savings: $17,147/80,000

Camp Morale: Maximum

Law Attention: 2 (Moderate)

Kestrel’s Honor: +40

Kestrel’s Local Bounty: $0

Author's Note

Though I wasn't able to get it out on Friday due to a change in my schedule, I think the end result was still good for our team. Having survived Rock Ridge, you all get to choose something to improve for dear Kessie. Choose wisely, because you'll probably have to wait another 50+ chapters for another chance to improve one of her skills.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 54

Healthiness: 4 Votes

Kestrel’s maximum Healthiness has increased by 1 for a new score of 8

Kestrel didn’t know how far away Hoofston was, and she wasn’t alone in that; none of the Gang had ever been there before save Trixie and Wanderer, though Wanderer was at least thirty years removed from his last visit and Trixie had taken a roundabout way from Hoofston to Rock Ridge, so she couldn’t make any direct comparisons. But after three days of following the dusty trail heading east and occasionally checking the lone road marker or traveler heading the opposite direction, Kestrel knew they were fairly close. Probably another day’s travel at the most.

Kestrel, Tumbleweed, Roughshod, Silver Wings, and Wanderer roll to recover Healthiness: Success, Success, Success, Success, Fail

At least the journey had given the Gang some time to rest, even if they kept looking over their shoulders, expecting to see a half dozen wings of cavalry descend on them during the trip. Kestrel’s stomach wound she’d taken during the train robbery finally melted away into nothing more than a scar across her gut, and Roughshod and Tumbleweed had recovered nicely from their injuries as well. Even Silver was feeling better, to the point where she could sit in the driver’s seat on Trixie’s wagon without fear of fainting in the sun and falling off the side. It felt good to be able to hear the young mare’s voice joining in with the Gang’s conversation and jokes, and Roughshod teased her that she must be part earth pony to recover so quickly. Silver jokingly challenged him to a hoof wrestle to prove it, though given how she still winced and shivered whenever she tried getting too active, nothing came of it. She was still seriously injured, and as fast as she may have recovered from the initial shock of the wound, she still had plenty of healing left to do before she was ready to fully help out again.

That morning, Kestrel sat in the driver’s seat next to Silver, cleaning her revolvers and making sure the lever on her repeater smoothly glided through its cycle in case the Army caught up to them again. Silver had huddled herself under a blanket despite the hot sun above them, and she still shivered from time to time, but she was awake, alert, and talkative as ever. Even still, it was a surprise to Kestrel when she shifted the topic of their conversation to something else. “Do you regret not seeing Highball in Rock Ridge?”

Kestrel paused at the question, oil-soaked rag stopping along the receiver of her repeater. “He was there, weren’t he?” she finally asked.

Silver nodded. “Yeah…”

Kestrel sucked on her cheek and tucked the rag away, deciding that her weapons were clean enough for the moment. “I… s’pose,” she finally admitted. “For helpin’ to save my life with the train, if nothin’ else.”

“If nothin’ else?” Silver echoed.

The older outlaw sighed and fidgeted with her hooves. “I’unno, Silvie. Highball and me—we was gonna be married, back in the day. Life tore us apart and we went our separate ways. It’s been years now, and I don’t begrudge him for it none, but I don’t think that wound’ll ever really heal. It probably…” She sighed and shook her head, staring out to her left at where the desert sands had transitioned to rocky plains and drylands. “Forget about it. We ain’t goin’ back, so I don’t have to worry ‘bout it no more.”

Silver pursed her lips, lowered her eyes, and reluctantly bobbed her head, leaving the topic at that.

When they pulled over to the side of the road and had some quick lunch before changing wagon teams, Tumbleweed pulled Kestrel aside. “You got a minute, Kessie?” he asked her.

“Sure do, Boss,” Kestrel said, stuffing an oatcake in her mouth and hopping to her hooves. She chewed on it as she walked over to Tumbleweed, swallowed, and wiped the crumbs off of her lips. “Whatchu need?”

“A little scoutin’,” Tumbleweed said, and he gestured down the road. “We’re not too far outta Hoofston; we should be there by nightfall. That means we need a place to set up camp, someplace safe from the Law, travelers, and other gangs.”

“Yeah, the last thing we need is another gang like the Vipers on us from day one,” Kestrel agreed.

“And Hoofston’s a city, not some podunk town like Rock Ridge,” Tumbleweed said. “There’s a better chance they might recognize us ‘round these parts. There’s also more eyes comin’ and goin’, so we gotta be careful about where we set up and how we handle things. We need to make some serious cash while we’re here before the Law catches onto us again; I don’t know how much longer we can keep slippin’ away from them when the heat gets too hot.”

“We don’t exactly have a lot of places left to flee,” Kestrel said. They’d already been chased across the San Palomino by the Pinks, and though they didn’t show their faces in Rock Ridge, she could only imagine that everything they stirred up in the short time they were there had to have attracted their attention. Soon enough the Pinks would be back on their trail, and they were starting to run out of places to flee to. If they didn’t have the money they needed to get out of Equestria by then…

“We take things one step at a time,” Tumbleweed said with a firm nod. “And the next step is finding a place we can make camp at. Go take a look and come back when you’re able. We’ll go where you decide.”

“Not much pressure there, ain’t it?” Kestrel asked with a lopsided smirk.

Tumbleweed chuckled. “You found our last camp outside of Rock Ridge, and I dare say we couldn’t have picked a better spot.”

“Don’t expect me to find somethin’ that good this time around,” Kestrel said, spreading her wings. “Civilization’s a lot more bloated ‘round here.”

Then she took off, spotted wings carrying her into the sky. As the Gang below her finished lunch and prepared to move out again, Kestrel circled higher and higher until the bottoms of the clouds were right above her head. Then, catching a warm thermal with her outstretched feathers, Kestrel began to glide to the east, where she could see the city of Hoofston emerge from the horizon.

“Been a while since I been to a real city,” Kestrel murmured to herself, flapping closer. Appleloosa and Dodge Junction were really large towns at best, and Rock Ridge was hardly a town. Hoofston, though not nearly as big as the cities in Equestria’s north and east, nevertheless had a few dozen streets lined with multi-story brick and stone buildings that eventually petered out into wooden houses and residences on the roads leading in and out of town. There would be plenty of traffic and plenty of ponies there, Kestrel knew, but what golden opportunities were hidden within the city limits, she wouldn’t know until the Gang took some time to sniff around.

But right now, her focus was on finding a suitable spot for a camp. She flew in wide arcs covering many miles out ahead of the Gang, scouting out possible places from the air. After a few hours of flight, she’d narrowed down the possibilities to four, solely based on the geography of the region and the roads nearby. Any one of them would work, but of course, each location would come with its own challenges and dangers.

A stretch of land near a lake west of the city. There’s plenty of trees here to hide the wagons in, and the lake should be good for fishin’ and relaxin’, but we’re pretty far from roads and Hoofston itself, which would make getting into and out of town quickly a problem.

An abandoned ranch outside of Hoofston. Close to the city and it comes with buildin’s we can use for shelter, but we’re only a few miles outside of Hoofston’s limits. That’s both a good and a bad thing; gettin’ in and out’ll be easy, but we’re more like to attract attention, even if the roads near the ranch ain’t that often traveled.

A quarry to the north of the city. Ain’t likely gonna see many ponies ‘round an old quarry, and it’s close enough to the city that we can get there and back in a reasonable amount of time without bein’ too close that we’re pushin’ our luck. If we get jumped while we’re in camp, though, we’ll be stuck on the low ground with little cover, and everypony attackin’ us will be shootin’ fish in a barrel—or outlaws in a quarry, more like.

The hills to the south of the city. I see a nice overlook sorta like what we had near Rock Ridge that’s outta the way yet not too far from Hoofston itself. Kinda looks like an entrance to an old mine or somethin’. More concerin’, however, is that there’s smoke comin’ from it. There’s a campfire there right now… wonder whose it is?

Author's Note

Kestrel has her first level up, and you guys chose Healthiness, which should help out a lot in the long run; the higher Kestrel's Healthiness, the more difficult it is for her to die when she gets shot. Given what our dice roller bot likes to throw at us, it will probably save her life sometime very soon.

Also, I've seen this issue popping up in the past few votes, so I feel the need to reiterate it here: when voting, you must EXPLICITLY PICK ONE CHOICE. That's one, not two, not three. If you don't explicitly state what your one and only choice is in your comment, I will ignore your comment. I've seen a lot of comments in the past few votes where people say one or another without indicating which one they're actually voting for. In that case, I am NOT counting both of your votes. I am instead IGNORING your comment. So please make it clear what your choice is if you want your vote counted.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 55

The lake west of the city: 12 votes

After a moment to consider her options, Kestrel angled her wings and banked to the left, setting her sights on the calm lake outside of the city. If there was ever a place to lie low in relative safety, the trees near the shoreline would be the best stretch of land. They grew close enough together that even from above, Kestrel had difficulty seeing through to the ground; that would hopefully keep the Gang’s wagons and camp hidden from above in case any lawponies happened to be flying by. She frowned as thoughts of a rainbow pegasus entered her head. Lawponies weren’t their only concern; judging by how many soldiers the Gang had killed during their stay in Rock Ridge, they might soon have the military breathing down their necks in addition to the Pinks. If the two partnered up to find them…

Kestrel shook her head and began to glide down to the ground. Worrying about the future was Tumbleweed’s job. Worrying about the present was her own. And presently, the Gang needed a safe place to stage scores out of, and with a city like Hoofston to pick over, it needed to be as safe and secure as possible.

An opening in the trees allowed Kestrel to flutter down to the ground, her hooves flattening dried grass with a soft crunch. She was immediately thankful for the shade as she looked around; Hoofston may have been a little wetter than Rock Ridge, just wet enough for some better foliage to grow here and there, but it was still far enough south that the sun could be plenty scorching during the afternoon. Down here close to the lakeshore, however, a gentle breeze carried cooler air in over the water, and Kestrel left her spotted wings hanging open enough to let it cool them down. First impressions were already going well.

The shore was also deserted; Kestrel was thankful for that. The west bank of the lake was almost certain to not be as frequented as the east side, given its distance from Hoofston itself, and she didn’t see any signs of fires or hoofprints in the mud that would indicate ponies had been here recently. Coupled with a nice little clearing to park the wagons beneath the trees and some reeds to hide the camp from the opposite shore, the little lake seemed like everything the Gang could have asked for.

The next step involved finding a way to get the wagons to the clearing she’d investigated. The trees, though thinning out the further away from the fresh water she went, were still distributed enough that finding a clear path to get wagons through to the clearing proved more difficult than anticipated. She found a small path between a few leaning ash trees that would be barely wide enough for Trixie’s wagon; the lower branches would probably scratch off some of the paint, but with a careful driver, they could squeeze it through alright. Getting in and out would take some time, however, and that meant leaving camp in a hurry if need be wouldn’t be an option. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, though; almost everything else was perfect.

After a few minutes to rest her wings and take a few gulps of fresh water from the lake, Kestrel took to the skies again, backtracking her flight to the rest of the Gang. She had to fly a few minutes to get back to the main road, and then follow the road back west until she found the two wagons lumbering across the dirt. When she did, she slowly circled back to the ground, letting her wings rest, before alighting a few yards out ahead of Roughshod as he pulled the supply wagon along the road, Wanderer and Miss Irons riding in the back. Smirking at him, she waited until he marched closer before leisurely falling in at his side. “Certainly’s takin’ you long enough,” she teased him. “Don’t tell me you’re tired.”

“You wanna haul a wagon full of gold around?” Rough grunted back, raising an eyebrow. “This wagon would break your back.”

“Good thing we already got you broken in, then.” Kestrel lightly swatted his flank with the tip of her wing and stepped aside. “I found a place. Gonna tell boss about it.”

“Yeah, you do that…” The muscular stallion set his jaw and continued to pull, his massive hooves digging into the dry dirt road with every step as the sweat glistened on his coat and dribbled down the sides of his harness. Kestrel left him to it, pausing by the side of the road until Trixie’s wagon rolled up after him, currently pulled by Snapshot, who quietly labored under the sun.

“Where’s the boss?” Kestrel asked him. “I found us a camp.”

“In the back,” was all Snapshot said, talkative as usual. Kestrel tipped her hat in acknowledgement and let him roll by before knocking on the side of the wagon with a hoof.

Tumbleweed stuck his head out of the window after a few moments and looked down at Kestrel. “Kessie? Back already?”

“I ain’t as fast as Silvie, but I can be fast when I wanna be,” Kestrel said, shrugging her wings mid-stride. “I found us a good spot for camp. Little place by a lake west of the city. We’ll be nice and hidden there, ain’t have to worry none about gettin’ chanced on by wanderers.”

“A lake, hm?” Tumbleweed rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I think some fresh water oughta do us some good. It’s plenty idyllic, I trust? I feel we’re owed somethin’ a little nice after everythin’ we’ve been through these past few months.”

“I might make a career for myself as an artist, givin’ enough time there,” Kestrel said, lightly smirking. “That or a fishermare. I bet the fishin’s good.”

Tumbleweed chuckled. “I do not understand the pegasus fascination with seafood, Kessie. I simply do not.”

“It’s good energy for flyin’ all day,” Kestrel answered. “You need it when you got two more limbs.”

“I’m sure.” He looked further up the road for a moment. “How close are we to this spot?”

“Maybe ‘bout an hour or so,” Kestrel said. “It ain’t too far from here, though we’ll have to go off the road some. Hopefully the gold wagon don’t break down on the rougher ground.”

“It should be fine,” Tumbleweed said. “It’s made to carry more.”

“Yeah.” Kestrel pointed lazily at the wagon with a wing. “How’s Silvie?”

“Sleepin’ some more,” Tumbleweed said. “I’m makin’ sure she don’t get any worse, though she’s already on the mend. She’s tough for a small thing like she is, I’ll give her that.”

“I’d say she’s proved to us all she’s serious ‘bout this life by now,” Kestrel said with an approving nod. “Least she’ll be able to rest plenty by the lake.”

“She sure needs it.” He waved with his hoof. “Go lead Rough and Snapshot to this new camp of ours. It’ll be good to get off the road and have someplace we can call our own for a little while.”

Kestrel nodded and did as she was told, spreading her wings to fly back up to Roughshod. After taking the lead from the stallion, she led the little caravan down toward the lake, breaking from the road and crossing the scraggly drylands between it and the trees. After some time to help guide the wagons through the narrow path in the trees, Kestrel joined the rest of the able-bodied members in unpacking and unloading while Miss Irons swiftly organized the camp with an efficiency only she seemed to possess. Within an hour, the Gang had arranged their camp with the two wagons to the north and south, the lakeshore to the east, and the path back out to the west. While everypony else slowly explored their surroundings, taking in the sights of the nearby lake, Tumbleweed simply stood in the middle of the camp, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. When he exhaled, he looked up and found Kestrel, smiling.

“This… this is a good place,” he said. “Good for the soul as well as the wallet. We’ll do well here, alright, long as we don’t make too much noise and bring the Pinks down on us.”

“We somehow got through that mess in Rock Ridge without no Pinks chasin’ us,” Kestrel said.

“You can bet it got their attention, though,” Tumbleweed said. “And Hoofston ain’t that far from Rock Ridge. Word’ll probably get over here soon enough that we was in the area. ‘Specially since it seemed to be public knowledge who we was by the time we left.”

“So what’ll we do, then?” Kestrel asked him. “Lay low? Move fast?”

“That depends to be seen,” Tumbleweed said. He looked over the camp and nodded to himself. “We’ll take it easy today, get some rest. I think tomorrow we’ll at least get some more supplies from Hoofston. We need beer if we’re gonna celebrate our great escape, y’know.”

Kestrel lightly smiled back. “It wouldn’t be a party without any of that.”

“Then take it easy tonight, and we’ll see what we got tomorrow,” Tumbleweed said, patting Kestrel on the shoulder. “We’ve got a bright future ahead of us, Kessie, a bright spot of hope in an ever darkening periphery. We play our cards right, we could be leavin’ Hoofston with enough cash to get outta Equestria for good.”

“I certainly hope so. I’m plenty tired of runnin’.”

Kestrel touched the brim of her hat as Tumbleweed walked away to check on the rest of the camp. One day to relax, then back to work. Things had been so hectic lately she felt like she hadn’t had a chance to unwind in forever. The only question was how to spend the rest of the day?

Play some cards with Roughshod, Wanderer, and Trixie.

Spend some time with Silver.

Help Miss Irons and Tumbleweed get the camp organized.

Explore the surrounding terrain alone.

Relax, pass the time, and be ready for tomorrow.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 56

Spend some time with Silver: 7 votes

After taking some time to eat her dinner, made from what little provisions the Gang had left from their last supply run in Rock Ridge, Kestrel filled a tin bowl with stew and carried it in a wing toward Trixie’s wagon, where Silver Wings had yet to emerge. Hesitating at the back door, Kestrel knocked lightly on the door and put her ear up to the wood. “You awake, Silvie?”

“Yeah,” came a hoarse voice from inside. “That you, Kestrel?”

Kestrel popped open the door with her other wing and peered inside. Silver remained wrapped in a blanket on Trixie’s hammock, bleary eyes squinting into the early evening light barging into the wagon. Though she certainly looked sick and feverish, the young mare managed to sit upright (or as upright as one could manage in a hammock) and smile at Kestrel the moment she saw the bowl of stew. “Oh, thank Celestia somepony remembered me,” Silver said with a chuckle. “I thought I was gonna starve in here!”

“Yeah, be lucky I’m around to think about you. Roughshod sometimes forgets which side of camp to take a shit, so you’d be hopeless if left to his care.” Hopping up the step into the wagon, Kestrel passed the bowl of stew to Silver, who eagerly took it in her wings. The younger pegasus wasted no time plunging her muzzle into the bowl and scarfing down what she could manage in a few bites before she pulled her head back and licked her lips.

“Nothing like Miss Irons’ cooking to make a mare feel better,” Silver said, chuckling lightly. “I can already feel it yellin’ at me from the inside to get my sorry plot outta bed and start helpin’ ‘round camp.”

Kestrel snickered at that; Miss Irons was a hard one to make excuses to, though the old mare knew better than anypony else just how much rest Silver needed to start feeling like herself once again. She’d probably be ordering Silver to stay in that hammock for a week to make sure she really healed. Kestrel didn’t blame her, really—Silver’s wound had been so frightening at first that if Tumbleweed didn’t know a little healing magic to stabilize her, she probably would have died from it.

But that was hard to see as Kestrel watched Silver diligently finish off her bowl of stew. Though the younger mare’s eyes were still red and watery, and a little sheen of sweat glistened on her already shiny coat, she looked much healthier than the coughing, shaking, bleeding pegasus who’d crash-landed on the back of Trixie’s wagon after being shot out of the sky. Considering how much better she looked only a few days removed from a life-threatening injury, Kestrel felt she wouldn’t be surprised if Silver was flying again by the end of the week.

When she finally finished her meal, Silver let out a little burp and dropped the tin on the floor. “Mmmm… good,” was all she had to say about it.

“Good that it’s good,” Kestrel said, snatching the bowl off the ground. “Least you got your appetite back.”

“Gettin’ a bullet through your intestines ain’t that good for your appetite,” Silver said. “I’m a fast healer, though.”

“Well, that and you had a little help from Tumbleweed.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure to say my thanks… again.” She let out a breathy laugh. “I’m pretty sure he’s tired of me sayin’ how thankful I am he saved me these past few days on the road.”

“Another time or three won’t bother him… much.” Kestrel smiled and sat down against the opposite wall of the wagon, shifting slightly to get comfortable beside the Chatter gun still stowed against the folded stage. “We’re just happy you’re feelin’ better.”

Silver leaned back in her hammock, her wiggling setting it rocking lightly back and forth. “Ain’t nopony happier than me, I tell ya,” she said. “Dyin’ don’t sound like it’s a party.”

“Nah, the party’s all ‘bout livin’,” Kestrel agreed. Her eyes wandered to the open door, where she could already see the flickering light of a campfire beginning to overtake the fading sunlight outside. “We’re certainly gonna have a party for that tomorrow, I think. Tomorrow or the day after. Depends on when we get to Hoofston and get some supplies; we’re plenty low on what we got left.”

“Mmhmm.” Silver closed her eyes, and for a moment, kestrel wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Then, grunting, Silver arched her back, coughed as she stretched her stitches, and flopped back down into the embrace of the hammock. “You better not have a party without me, Kessie, I swear.”

“Oh, you’ll be feelin’ better by then, anyway,” Kestrel said, dismissively waving a wing. “Ain’t you the one insistin’ you’s a fast healer?”

The young outlaw chuckled. “Hey, if there’s whiskey at the end of the tunnel, I’m as fast a healer as anypony. Maybe I got a bit of earth pony in me.”

“Certainly ‘splains why you was a pegasus livin’ on a plantation when you joined us,” Kestrel said. “That’s earth pony work, not pegasus.”

“Oh, it weren’t like I was the one workin’ the damn fields,” Silver said. “Pa had hired help for that. A few griffons from the Confederacy ‘cross the ocean, but mostly just earth ponies lookin’ for simple work.” She sniggered as she added, “Rough woulda fit right in with ‘em.”

“C’mon now, Silvie, you know slavery ain’t right,” Kestrel said with a teasing wink.

Silver laughed and shook her head. “Oh, hush. Pa was good to the help, paid ‘em all well. Not like some of the other plantation owners we was near, but that just meant he got first pick of the help he needed since he paid ‘em more.”

“You make it sound so appealin’. Maybe we should stop this life of crime and go do some simple, honest work.”

“Psshh. Pa’d tan my hide if I came back now. A life of crime’s a bad look for the family.”

“You’ve had a much shorter life of it,” Kestrel said, her smile faltering to something more thoughtful. “You’d probably be able to get out if you wanted. Go back to your family, put your life back together. You ain’t gotta ride and die like the rest of us.”

Silver blinked in surprise. “You ain’t tryin’ to force me out, I hope.”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ of the sort,” Kestrel said. “I always believed ponies should make their own ways in life. Do what you want, don’t let anypony tell ya no. And you, Silvie, you came from such a privileged life, I just don’t want you to feel like you’re throwin’ everythin’ away just to be an outlaw for a day.”

The younger mare managed to wriggle a wing out from under her blankets just to lazily wave it. “Oh, Kessie, I don’t miss that life at all. Trust me. You worry ‘bout ponies livin’ their own lives? I weren’t able to do that back home.”

Kestrel’s eyebrow rose. “Oh?”

“Pa wanted me to be the daughter he dreamed of,” Silver said. “I was always too wild for him. I liked playin’ in the mud instead of playin’ with dolls and teacups. I liked singin’ bawdy songs instead of readin’ poetry. I liked shootin’ guns instead of paintin’ watercolors. He didn’t like me doin’ any of that, so he was gonna send me away to Vanhoover and force me to turn into what he wanted by makin’ me stay with my aunt.” The mare shrugged. “You think I’d want to go back to that?”

“It’s better to have a family that loves you than one that don’t,” Kestrel said, looking down at her hooves. “My family didn’t love me none. If it weren’t for that, I don’t think I’d be on this side of the law.”

Silver slowly cocked her head. “I don’t think you ever told me nothin’ about your family.”

“Ain’t much worth talkin’ about,” Kestrel said. “My mama and pa were prospectors near Appleloosa. They went there to strike gold and get rich. Instead, they got two foals and a mountain of debt. They also got some nasty habits. Pa would gamble away what little he got, and he’d take out loans to gamble more, figurin’ he had to make it big someday. Mama just drowned her sorrows in the bottle and beat me and my little brother, Kite, for any little thing.”

The younger mare’s eyes widened. “Oh, Celestia, I didn’t know…”

“’Cause it’s old history,” Kestrel said, shrugging her wings. “I ran off with Kite when I was ten and he was seven. I got tired of tryin’ to steal so we could eat. I got tired of tryin’ to keep Mama from turnin’ her hooves on Kite when she got mad. I got tired of doin’ whatever I could to scrape together a few bits, only for our parents to take ‘em and burn ‘em on their addictions faster than I could blink.” She pulled the corner of her duster back and pointed to several white scars decorating her shoulder. “Mama threw a glass at me once when she was bad. It broke and cut me real deep. She didn’t care none that I was bleedin’ so bad. She passed out minutes later. That was when I knew I had to go. I had to take Kite and get outta there. Next time, Mama might hit me in the head with a pan and snap my neck—or worse, she might hit Kite.”

Silver had pulled her forelegs up to her chest as if she was hugging herself. “So you ran?” she asked.

Kestrel nodded. “I took whatever I could and ran off with Kite the next day. I didn’t care that I was stealin’ from my parents; they’d been stealin’ from me my whole life. We got on the first train we could sneak our way on and hid ‘til it finally stopped. When we got out, we was in Canterlot. I tried to find a place for us to stay, but we got robbed blind on the first day. We were just kids; nopony was there to look out for us. We ended up on the streets like so many other foals, but I promised Kite we’d get through it.”

“I remember you tellin’ me how you met Tumbleweed in Canterlot,” Silver said. “You two tried to rob each other, right?” When Kestrel nodded, Silver let a little smile flit onto her muzzle—but only for a moment. “But you never said nothin’ ‘bout… ‘bout Kite… did he?”

A pained expression overcame Kestrel’s face, and she winced hard and looked away. Even thinking about it made her hurt, more than twenty years later. “Kite got pneumonia our first winter in Canterlot,” Kestrel said. “I begged ponies to help him. I’d throw myself at the hooves of the doctors in their clinics. But we didn’t have nothin’, so they wouldn’t help him. I tried to steal medicine and got locked in a jail for a weekend. When I came back to the alley we’d been stayin’ in, Kite’d…”

Her throat seized up, and she coughed to try and open it up. A fetlock rubbed at eyes that she insisted to herself were dry. After a moment to breathe, Kestrel shook her head. “Be happy when you got a family,” Kestrel finally said. “A family that loves you. The Gang’s my family now, and I want to see ‘em all happy and safe. Even Rough,” she added with a forced chuckle.

Silver awkwardly shifted in her hammock, and as the silence dragged on, Kestrel considered simply getting up and leaving. But instead, Silver cleared her throat with a little cough. “You guys are a better family than the one I left,” Silver finally said. She smiled softly at Kestrel. “I wish I had a big sister like you when I was growin’ up.”

“Heh… Kite woulda liked you,” Kestrel said, managing to curl the corners of her lips upwards. “He woulda liked you a lot.”

Outside, the sun had all but disappeared, and the shadows began to creep into the wagon. Silver’s face gleamed in what little light there was left to hit it, shaping her features. The mare was tired, Kestrel could tell, and the sad story she had just unloaded was weighing on her. She needed rest, that much was certain. Kestrel, unfortunately, knew she wouldn’t be getting any rest anytime soon.

Perhaps doing something else would take her mind off Kite.

See who’s sitting around the campfire. Maybe Wanderer’s got a good story, or Tumbleweed’s got some grand plans for us in Hoofston. Let somepony else do the talkin’, ‘cause I ain’t too interested in more right now.

Walk in the moonlight. I bet the lake’s plenty peaceful right now. Might set my mind at ease, let me prepare for the next day.

Try to get some sleep, no matter how difficult. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day, I’m sure. I need to be awake and alert if we go into town and do some lookin’ around.

See if Silver wants some company for the night. That hammock’s big enough for two, I suppose. Havin’ somepony warm by her side might help Silver feel more comfortable, and I reckon’ it might chase away my demons for a little.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 58

The pale green of dry leaves and the chattering of birds and other wildlife left Kestrel feeling extremely disoriented when she woke up the following morning. Her wing moved for the revolvers by her side, and when her feathers brushed over the comforting feel of the wooden grips, she let out a sigh and slowly sat up. Her anxiety died back down as she saw the familiar faces of the Gang getting set for the morning routine around their new camp, and after a wide yawn, she forced herself to her hooves to join them.

Tumbleweed and Roughshod had already started on their morning oatmeal, their chairs pulled to one side of the weathered wooden table so they could watch the sunrise over the lake. Kestrel snatched a tin bowl from the supply wagon and filled it up with oatmeal as well, dropping it on the table by Tumbleweed’s side and pulling over a stool to sit and eat. “Mornin’, fellers,” was all she said before her lips closed around the first spoonful of oats.

“And what a fine one it is,” Tumbleweed said with a pleased little turn to his lips. “A fine mornin’ of opportunity for all of us. Today is the start of a brand new day, Kessie, a brand new day filled with brand new opportunities.”

Roughshod scoffed and brushed aside his empty bowl. “Didn’t you say somethin’ like that back in Rock Ridge?”

“I did, and we robbed a train and stole tens of thousands of bits,” Tumbleweed retorted. “And that was outside of a little podunk town. Hoofston is a city, and cities got all sorts of things goin’ for ‘em. We just gotta sniff ‘em out.”

“Cities also got lotta law.” Roughshod crossed his forelegs and seemed to glare in the direction of civilization that the Gang now found themselves so close to. “How long you figure we can stay hidden from ‘em all? Some wall somewhere’s gotta have our faces on it.”

“It’s a risk we’re gonna have to take,” Tumbleweed said. He picked up his bowl in his magic and drained the last directly into his muzzle, then set it aside. After chewing and swallowing, he wiped his lips on the back of his fetlock. “We gotta all accept one thing,” he said, looking between Roughshod and Kestrel. “We are all but past the point of remainin’ anonymous. That fly-der nest we kicked up with the military and the Vipers in Rock Ridge? That’s gotta be fresh on the lips of everypony within a hundred miles of this place. They’re gonna be on the lookout for troublemakers.”

“They knew he me and Rough was that night we was lookin’ for Wanderer,” Kestrel said, and Roughshod nodded as well. “They knew us by name. That means the Pinks is gonna know we all was in Rock Ridge. Things are gonna be plenty dangerous for us.”

“With any luck, the Pinks won’t know which way we went,” Tumbleweed said. “Least for a little while. I reckon we got one free move we can take ‘fore they know loosely where we are. So we gotta make it count.”

“So what’s our plan?”

Tumbleweed stared off to the east, chewing on his lip as he thought. “We’re low on supplies,” he finally said. “We’ve got all the water and wood we need at this camp—it’s a good spot for that—but we’re gonna need things in town. Food mostly, plus some other miscellaneous things we can only get from the fine factories of civilization.”

“Ammo, most definitely,” Kestrel agreed. “We probably burned through most of what we had for the Chatter gun, and I know I’m runnin’ low on bullets for my revolvers.”

“You should try usin’ the repeaters more often,” Roughshod teased. “We got plenty of rounds for those.”

“I can’t shoot two repeaters at once, now can I?” Kestrel shot back. “Besides, I leave the long guns to Snapshot. He gets the most use outta them all.”

“That’s true enough,” Tumbleweed said. “But we ain’t just goin’ into town to get supplies. This’ll be our chance to snoop about and learn some things. I figure we send Trixie and her wagon into town to load up for us; she ain’t been with us very long, and she ain’t picked up any attention from the law yet. Miss Irons and Wanderer will go with her and see what gossip they can overhear at the stores. Maybe they’ll be able to find somethin’ good for us.”

“You ain’t worried ‘bout Wanderer gettin’ found out?” Roughshod asked. “After what went down in Rock Ridge, he’s gotta be as infamous as the rest of us.”

“Nopony’ll look twice at two elderly ponies and their younger companion,” Tumbleweed assured him. “The rest of us, on the other hoof, risk drawin’ attention.”

Kestrel frowned at the table. “So we’re just sittin’ here, then?”

“No, not at all.” Tumbleweed gestured over his shoulder, toward the center of camp. “Snapshot and Rough’ll stay here with Silvie to keep her and the camp safe from discovery. We also need to get a good feel on how popular this lake is durin’ the day; if we gotta deal with picnickers, I want to know before they stumble across us on accident.” Then he winked at Kestrel. “You and me, Kessie, we’re goin’ into town separate from Wanderer and the others. We’ll snoop about, see what we can find. Might chance across an opportunity if we look long enough.”

“You two ain’t worried ‘bout bein’ caught?” Roughshod asked. “You’re almost more recognizable than me!”

Kestrel’s gut seemed uneasy—she had to agree with Roughshod there. “He’s got a fair point,” she told Tumbleweed. “We might not be hulkin’ draft horses like Rough here, but anypony who knows who we is is gonna recognize us on sight.” She held out one of her gray and brown spotted wings for emphasis. “I ain’t exactly got the most subtle colorin’, y’know. Most pegasi’re just a solid color or two.”

Tumbleweed only smiled back at her. “So we stuff you in a dress to hide your wings so ponies think you’re just an earth pony. They’re gonna be lookin’ for a pegasus outlaw, not a rancher’s wife.”

Roughshod burst out laughing. “This again? Oh, Celestia, I remember that night in Marephis when the two of you pulled that stunt.”

“It got us the key to that carriage tycoon’s safe, did it not?”

Kestrel rolled her eyes. “At least playin’ the rancher’s wife I won’t have to make small talk ‘bout fashion and gossip with other mares. That whole thing woulda fallen apart if I didn’t realize that stallion’s wife was hittin’ on me and capitalize on that.”

“See? We’ve had success with that before.” Tumbleweed picked up his bowl and stood up, stretching his neck. “If ponies are lookin’ for us, they’re gonna be lookin’ for who they think we are. They ain’t gonna be lookin’ for two earth ponies, a husband and wife come to town for the day. They’ll be lookin’ for a unicorn and pegasus outlaw. Let ‘em look, I say. ‘Specially if we get Trixie to gussie up our looks with some of her illusions.”

Kestrel looked across the camp to where the blue unicorn had just begun to sleepily bumble out from behind her wagon. “Those illusions are really somethin’,” she said. “Glad we added her to our family.”

“You’re right ‘bout that one.” Tumbleweed gestured toward her with a tilt of his head. “Let’s go get things movin’, then we’ll think ‘bout where we better start lookin’. We’ll have all day, so we should be able to make a few stops about town—supposing we don’t run into no trouble.”

“You know trouble’ll find us soon enough,” Kestrel said, but she nevertheless finished off the rest of her oatmeal and stood up after Tumbleweed. As she chucked the dirty tin aside, her mind already started wandering to the likely places to investigate in a city such as Hoofston.

The bank. A city such as Hoofston’s gotta have a bank where the ‘civilized’ ponies like to keep their bits. It ain’t a big town so there’s likely only one bank, but it’ll be big enough to handle the needs of everypony in town.

The rail station. Train robberies’ve always been kind to us. Might as well stick with what works and see what we can find.

Downtown. Hoofston’s a city, which means it’s got a downtown. If ever there was a place to get a hoof on the city’s pulse and the latest news, we just gotta head on down and start eavesdroppin’.

The capitol. The larger the town, the greater the stink of corruption. We might find somethin’ interestin’ down by the capitol buildin’, whether that be work or just a lead on some wealthy politician we can clean out one way or another.

The industrial sector. Hoofston’s large enough to have a few factories and warehouses, and while raw goods ain’t much use to us, things like bonds and the ponies that own them—the tycoons themselves—are worth a lotta money with a little stealin’ or foalnappin’.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 59

Downtown: 11 Votes

The wagon came to a stop just outside of Hoofston, on a stretch of dusty road leading up to the main thoroughfare. Kestrel climbed out of the back and awkwardly tugged on the sleeves of her dress with her teeth. She felt trapped and tangled in the ungainly and heavy article of clothing, and her wings fidgeted underneath the fabric, subconsciously struggling to break free.

A stallion she didn’t recognize but knew nonetheless hopped out of the back of the wagon after her. Trixie’s illusions had completely replaced his off-yellow coat with a dark purple, stripped away his mustache, and the hat he wore hid his horn. His work clothes made him look like just another earth pony rancher, and if Kestrel hadn’t seen Trixie put the illusion over him, she wouldn’t have given him a second glance as a wanted stallion.

Her own illusion was something else as well. Trixie had taken her gray and brown and replaced it with a hearty, grassy green, and added a few inches onto her mane and turned it white. The dress she wore, she’d borrowed from Miss Irons, and even though it hid her tail well, Trixie had given it the same treatment as her mane just in case. Just like when she’d been disguised as Sienna, Kestrel had taken a look at herself in a mirror when all was said and done and found herself uncomfortable to know that the mare in the reflection was her.

As the two outlaws walked around the side of the wagon, Trixie gave them a little nod. “Remember how they work,” she told the two of them. “If you try using your wings or magic, you’re going to break the illusions. They can’t adjust well on the fly.”

“We’ll be alright,” Tumbleweed said. Then he looked up at Wanderer and Miss Irons, sitting in the seat of the wagon. “You got the list?”

“We’ll have a fun time in town with our granddaughter,” Wanderer said, and Trixie groaned and leaned helplessly against her harness. “And yes, we have the list. Supplies and ammunition, and another wagon if we can find a small one. We’re going to need more than two to move supplies about if we get anymore gold, and after we left our other wagon back in Rock Ridge after the train robbery, we need it more than ever.”

“I’ll have my ears open for anything else,” Miss Irons said. “Nopony is going to expect two elderly ponies to be with a gang of wanted outlaws, so they won’t be guarding their words. We’ll see if we find something interesting.”

“Trixie will also work her charm on the humble ponies of Hoofston,” the showmare proclaimed. She brushed a hoof through her hair and scoffed. “The chance to meet Equestria’s greatest and most powerful unicorn should loosen some tongues!”

Kestrel did her best to suppress a chuckle. “I’m sure they will.” She tried to touch the brim of a hat that wasn’t on her head with a wing trapped inside a dress and quietly growled at herself. “Any rate, see you three back in camp tonight.”

“Take care and stay safe, you too,” Wanderer said, and after exchanging a sly look with Miss Irons, kicked his hoof against the hoofrest of the seat. “Come on, granddaughter! Let’s have a fun day in town!”

Trixie groaned and dug her hooves into the ground, pushing off of the dirt road and setting the wagon down the road. “If Trixie suffers an unfortunate accident and drowns herself in the lake, know that she had no other choice…”

“Don’t forget the beer and whiskey!” Tumbleweed called after them as Trixie began to pull away. “We’re havin’ a party tonight!”

“Hopefully we find somethin’ more worth celebratin’ ‘bout,” Kestrel added. “Gettin’ outta Rock Ridge in one piece is somethin’, but comin’ back with somethin’ promisin’ would make it all the sweeter.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Tumbleweed said, and he turned and held his hoof out toward Kestrel. “Shall we be goin’ for a fine day in town, dear wife of mine?”

Kestrel laughed and gently swatted his hoof away. “You shoulda been a travelin’ actor.”

“Well, ain’t that what I am right now?”

“That or a clown.” Kestrel set her sights on the outskirts of the city and Trixie’s disappearing wagon, then shook out her long illusory mane and started down the road. “Celestia, we shoulda had Trixie take us a little closer to downtown. I hate walkin’ long distance.”

“Why would you?” Tumbleweed asked her, a teasing wink following. “You’re an earth pony, ‘Thistle’.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, ‘Mulberry’.” Kestrel shook her head and started the long trot into town. “C’mon, let’s get movin’.”

The two outlaws walked down the road and joined the flow of hoof and wagon traffic into Hoofston. Within half an hour, they found themselves venturing deeper and deeper into the city, as wooden buildings gave way to brick, stone, and mortar dwellings, shops, and offices. Ponies crowded increasingly busy streets, and wagons and carriages rumbled down the cobble roads, adding a discordant cacophony of noise that reminded Kestrel of her rough days living on Canterlot’s streets. With the buildings pressing close around her and ponies everywhere, Kestrel felt more than a little unnerved. This was a city—this was civilization. And Kestrel hated it just as much as she knew it hated her and her family of outlaws.

Shortly enough, the two ponies found themselves in a square in downtown, with towering buildings and billboards all around them. A pair of police officers in blue uniforms stood by the corner, and Kestrel felt a little anxious sweat beading on her brow at the sight of them. Two police officers alone didn’t scare her, but in a city, it was never just two officers. If any trouble started, one would put a tin whistle to their lips, send out a shrill screech, and within minutes there’d be a dozen cops swarming the streets. But so long as their disguises held up, then she and Tumbleweed didn’t have anything to worry about.

“What have we got here?” Tumbleweed asked, looking around. “See anythin’ interestin’, dear Thistle?”

Kestrel tried to instinctively raise a wing to her brow to peer around, but the fabric of her dress thankfully restrained her wings and prevented her from breaking the illusion. Instead, baring her teeth ever so slightly, she raised a hoof above her eyes like an earth pony would and looked around. “There’s a bar, there’s a post office, a…” She squinted at a sign above a building thronged with people. “A museum on the conquest of the southwest?”

“Looks like it’s busy, whatever it is,” Tumbleweed said. “Grand openin’ or somethin’.” His ears perked and turned at some noise, and he glanced at the front gates of a park at the other end of the square, where several ponies had gathered around somepony speaking on a soapbox. “Wonder what all that fuss is about.”

“Ain’t sure; probably some pony complainin’ ‘bout buffalo reservations or somethin’.” Kestrel shook her head; ponies in the cities were so detached and distanced from the reality of the world beyond their brick walls and gas street lamps that they found the most trivial things to be upset about. It gave her some satisfaction to know that the ‘civilized’ ponies in their suits and courts and politicians wouldn’t last two days in the cutthroat frontier. Some part of her really wished ponies like her and her family could control the future of Equestria, but they were helpless against the government and the law and the politicians ruling them from far away.

“What feels good?” Tumbleweed asked. “Might not have time to see everythin’ dependin’ on where we go.”

The bar. Ain’t nothin’ classic like a bar. It ain’t a saloon with the rough characters we’re used to, but ponies from all walks of life’ll be here, more than what we’d see in frontier towns like Rock Ridge.

The post office. We’ll find flyers, bulletins, and ponies there. We got some tipoffs from the post office in Rock Ridge about good scores; maybe we’ll find the same here.

The museum. There’s a lotta ponies flockin’ to the museum. If it’s a grand openin’, that means there might be some important socialites from Hoofston here. That, and it’s about somethin’ we know plenty about; might be amusin’ to see what the city folk think the frontier’s like.

The park. Wonder what all the commotion’s about?

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 60

The Park: 11 Votes

“Might as well see what’s goin’ on over by the park,” Kestrel said, already trotting in that direction. “The other things’ll still be here by the time we’re done. This commotion might be on its way out.”

“I very much doubt that,” Tumbleweed said, falling in by her side. “Ponies don’t give up the soapbox that easily when they got a crowd starin’ at ‘em.”

While it certainly wasn’t a packed crowd, there were enough ponies gathered around the entrance to the park to start spilling out into the street, and a couple of police ponies watched the scene from the edges to make sure a riot didn’t start. Kestrel and Tumbleweed strolled up to the back of the twenty or thirty ponies gathered around the central figure, and Kestrel was merely thankful that the speaker had found a box to perch herself on. Though she may have been disguised as an earth pony, Kestrel still had a pegasus’ height, and that made seeing over the taller ponies in front of her all the more difficult.

“The capitalists are strangling Hoofston!” the mare shouted, waving a book in her teal magic. “The factories they built on the other side of the city are slaughterhouses that abuse foals for cheap labor and easy profit! Griffons and zebras, they immigrate to Equestria looking for a better life, and in the end, the greed of the likes of the Apple Family and Rarity Belle swallow their children and spit out the bones! There are creatures—ponies included—who are maimed and murdered every day in these deplorable factories by rich pigs who don’t care about them!”

The crowd murmured its disapproval, and the light purple mare raised the book above her head. “This abuse of power by the rich and wealthy has to stop for the good of the common pony! The best and brightest thinkers from across the sea have debated the crushing poison of capitalism at length and proposed a solution! A utopian state where everypony is equal, where there are no rich and no poor, where ponies and creatures work together for the common good! There are no foremares, no tycoons, no bourgeoisie lording over and exploiting the suffering of the working class! We can achieve a perfect and equal society—and it starts with all of us!”

Tumbleweed scoffed and shook his head. “Politics,” he muttered, eyeing the mare disapprovingly. “Everypony in Equestria’s got an idea on how to fix ‘em, and everypony in Equestria thinks their ideas are better than any others.”

“I’ll say,” Kestrel murmured back. “Equestria’d be better off without any of that shit.”

“See what I mean?” Tumbleweed asked, a teasing smile forming on his muzzle. “That’s called ‘anarchy’, my dear wife, and there are ponies who think that’s better than anythin’ else out there.”

“I don’t care much what it’s called or what ponies think is best, so long as it don’t bother me none. That’s all I want; to be left to do what I want.”

“You can blame the poison of civilization for takin’ that away from us,” Tumbleweed said. “Though I don’t think Equestria’s gonna let us campaign on changin’ the system.”

“They let her talk,” Kestrel observed, pointing at the mare.

“Yeah, only ‘cause they know ain’t nopony gonna listen.” He pointed to the restless crowd, which already had ponies shaking their heads and walking away to find something better to occupy their time. “Looks like our aspiring revolutionary has lost this battle.”

Sure enough, the purple mare bared her teeth in frustration and started waving the book more frantically as her crowd started to leave. “Where are you ponies going?!” she called out to them. “This is a serious matter! If we don’t do something and take a stand, then the capitalists are going to only grow stronger! Soon they’ll own everything—even your children! We have to fight them now if we want to establish an equal society!”

“The Princess will never let that happen,” a stallion in the crowd shouted back at her. “Besides, we don’t need anypony preaching griffon ideas. We’re ponies, and nothing’s better than the Equestrian way of life!”

“This book wasn’t written by a griffon!” the speaker retorted. “This is Marex’s finest work! Read it, it’ll open your eyes to the corrupt world we’re living in!”

“Yeah, sure.” The stallion snickered with some of his friends, and together they walked away, laughing at the mare’s expense.

As the last of her gathering finally disappeared into the square, the speaker growled and threw her book against the ground in frustration. “Sheep!” she shouted at them as they left her behind. “You are all sheep waiting to be sheared! You sit in your pens fed processed oats thinking this is all there is to life, when there’s an entire green field to frolic through just outside the doors to your slaughterhouse of ignorance!”

Kestrel shook her head as the mare fumed on her box. “Come on, Mulberry, let’s check out that museum or somethin’,” she said, already starting to turn away. “That was entertainin’ enough.”

“Not yet,” Tumbleweed said, and Kestrel saw the corner of his lip curve in that way it did when he had a plan running through his brain. “Come on.”

Kestrel blinked as he started walking toward the speaker. “Really? This whole town and that’s who you want to talk to?” But when he didn’t stop or respond, she could only sigh and trot after him, her mind already writing off the conversation to follow as a waste of time.

They stopped a few feet away from the mare, who had picked up her book and was carefully dusting it off with a sleeve as if she’d dirtied a work of art. “Come to mock me too?” she asked them, barely sparing the two outlaws a look out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t understand the land of opportunity you’re foregoing by kneeling before the fat cats and kissing their shined shoes.”

“I reckon we have somethin’ of an idea,” Tumbleweed said. “We ain’t much a fan of the Apple Conglomerates and Miss Belle’s little fashion empire either. It’d certainly be nice if somepony could do somethin’ about ‘em.”

The mare hesitated, frowning down the length of her muzzle as she tried to decipher the sincerity in Tumbleweed’s voice. “You… are?” she asked, turning to look at the two ponies with scrutinizing eyes. “Yes… It certainly would be nice if something could be done about the system we live in today.” After a moment or two more to study Kestrel’s face, the mare broke out a big smile and held her hoof out for Tumbleweed to shake. “Starlight Glimmer. I’m a member of the Equestrian Communist Party. Or, well, I guess I would be if the mayor would let me file its creation.” Her smile turned into a sharp scowl even as Tumbleweed reached out his hoof to shake hers. “The illusion of democracy and capitalism crumbles ever-so-quickly when you try to expose the faults inherent in the system and it responds with fear and stonewalling, revealing the corruption and lies it’s built upon.”

Kestrel blinked a few times, her muzzle frozen in some approximation of a blank half-smile. “I, uh… sure?”

“Don’t mind my wife too much,” Tumbleweed said, giving Starlight’s hoof a firm shake. “She’s often too busy with the foals at home to come out much and participate in politics. Yet she shares my same disdain for the rich and greedy gluttons that rule our society, denying their wealth to the common ponies of the world.”

Starlight seemed relieved to hear that, and her frown turned into a smile again. “Oh, finally. It is so difficult to find ponies with common sense in the southwest. I would rather be campaigning someplace in the northeast, like Fillydelphia or Manehattan, but the political bosses of places like Tammareny Hall run Equestria’s forward thinkers out of their districts before we can gather any popular support. The only way forward is with a grassroots campaign, but even that has proven difficult.”

“Why would that be?” Tumbleweed asked, feigning simple rancher naivety.

“Because while the civilized places like Manehattan crush my voice with litigation, threats, and gang violence, the barons and tycoons here in the south run the cities like their own personal fiefdoms.” Starlight sighed and rubbed her eye with her fetlock, letting a little exhaustion show. Kestrel had to wonder how many days in a row this mare had to have been on the streets championing her cause. “I’ve been chased from one city to another, fleeing from hired goons just to make my voice heard. The capitalists are afraid of the truth of equality, and so they do their best to crush me before the good ponies of Equestria turn the tables on them.”

“I’m assumin’ you must have some sort of plan to deal with their resistance,” Tumbleweed said. “A lone pony like yourself ain’t likely to last long without one.”

“I… have a few ideas,” Starlight admitted. “But finding the ponies to help me strike back at the tycoons is another matter entirely.”

Tumbleweed glanced at Kestrel, and she saw the little smile on his face. Starlight’s admission was as good an opening as any for him to work his charm over on her. “Findin’ the right ponies? Well, perhaps they’re right in front of you.”

“You?” Starlight asked, raising an eyebrow. “While I appreciate the enthusiasm, I think this might be too much for you.”

“You’d be surprised,” Tumbleweed said with a wink. “Trust us.”

Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to convince Starlight to say more: Critical Success

Starlight took another moment to size Tumbleweed and Kestrel up again, and her lips pursed. Then she suddenly blinked in recognition. “Magic…” she muttered to herself. Looking left and right, she gestured to the bar across the square. “I see. Alright. You want to help? Let’s go talk someplace a little more private. I’ve got a plan to take down the Apple Conglomerates in Hoofston. If we can do that, then the call for equality has to get noticed across Equestria, and something tells me you two are more than meets the eye.”

Tumbleweed glanced at Kestrel, eyebrow arched in surprise. Kestrel could only look back with the same expression. “Well, Thistle?” he asked her. “What do you think?”

Agree. This could be huge, and the Apple Conglomerates, though certainly wealthy and powerful, are like to have more money in their coffers within easy reach than even the train robberies we’ve pulled off before.

Refuse. Tanglin’ with the Apple Conglomerates is just gonna get us killed. Starlight Glimmer can find other ponies to champion her cause; no amount of money’s worth pissin’ off a very powerful family.

Listen with the intent to turn her over. I imagine we’ll get a pretty nice ‘thank you’ bonus from the Apple Family if we tip ‘em off about this revolutionary tryin’ to cut their hooves out from under ‘em. Might be some of the easiest money we’ll ever see, supposin’ we don’t get double-crossed by ‘em.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 61

Agree: 8 Votes

“I think it sounds like a mighty fine idea,” Kestrel said, nodding in agreement. While the political aspirations behind Starlight’s scheme meant nothing to her, the possibility of an enormous payday from striking at the factories and companies of the Apple Conglomerates was too good to pass up. “Lead the way, Starlight.”

The aspiring communist wasted no time in bounding across the square toward the bar on the other side. “This way. Come on! The equine condition is not something that will right itself!”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed shot each other a look, shook their heads, and followed in her wake. “If nothin’ else, least it’ll be a fun story to tell the Gang,” Tumbleweed said.

“So long as you ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout runnin’ for office,” Kestrel said. “Way to advertise to the Pinks that we’re here in Hoofston.”

“Why, they wouldn’t dare take down a fairly elected representative of the people, would they?” The stallion snickered and held the door to the bar open with his magic, letting Kestrel step inside first. “It’ll just show them I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

“Uh huh.” Kestrel took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the comparative darkness of the bar’s interior, and she saw Starlight waving them over to a table at the corner of the tavern. Making her way over, Kestrel gathered up her skirt with mild frustration as she slid into the seat across from Starlight, doing her best to smooth it back down and not let her wings ruffle at the oppressive fabric clinging to her and restricting her movement. “Some place,” she commented, idly looking around to try and divert attention away from her awkwardness. “I ain’t get the chance to go into town much.”

“Is that why you need disguises?” Starlight said, eyes seeming to tear through the illusions on the two ponies across from her.

Tumbleweed froze in place, halfway into this seat. “Disguises?” he asked her. “Whatever do you mean?”

Starlight uses Scholar (8) to accurately identify the magic on Tumbleweed and Kestrel: Critical Success

“Oh, please, I wasn’t born yesterday. Whoever put those illusions on you did it quite sloppily.” Her eyes seemed to peel away Kestrel’s illusory skin with ease, and her wingtip brushed against the holster of the revolver she had tucked under her dress. “I had several years of formal schooling at a mage academy before I spent a few summers overseas. I can recognize when a spell isn’t put together efficiently. That’s a showmare’s illusion, not a true ‘disguise self’ spell.

After a moment, Tumbleweed finally finished sitting down with deliberate caution. “Very astute observation,” he said, carefully measuring his words. “I trust we ain’t gonna do anythin’ rash now, right?”

“Depends on who you are and why you approached me,” Starlight said, eyes narrowing down her muzzle. “Tell me straight or I’ll have to wring it out of you; are you working with the capitalists, and is this just another setup to try and make me stop?”

Kestrel turned to Tumbleweed, eyebrow raised. She didn’t dare say anything—not yet, at least. Honeyed words and negotiations were Tumbleweed’s strength, not hers.

After a moment, Tumbleweed relaxed and slouched back in his seat some, hooves behind his head. “Well, Starlight, it seems we have somethin’ in common, then,” he said. When Starlight cocked her head to the side, he elaborated. “The Apple Conglomerates, Miss Belle, well, they don’t like us none. We’ve been known to rob and steal from ‘em in the past. Now, Hoofston’s a big city, which means there’s eyes and ears all over the place. I think you’d agree it’s hard for wanted ponies to make their way through a town like this freely, in their own skin, and not have somepony recognize them.”

Starlight seemed to consider this some, and then a sly smile rooted itself on her muzzle. “Yes, that does make sense. Well, if you’re no friends of the capitalists, then I think we will make excellent allies. Sometimes, in the spirit of revolution, we must get our hooves dirty to bring about the changes we want to see in society. Those in power never want to let go of it once they have it.”

Tumbleweed merely nodded along. “So we’ve seen,” he said, glancing sideways at Kestrel. “Now, I’m gonna be honest with you, Starlight. We’re hardly revolutionaries ourselves. We’re just in it for the money. But despite all that, you’ve led me to believe that we might be able to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Yes, I believe we may.” Starlight leaned in a little closer, prompting Kestrel and Tumbleweed to do the same. “As luck would have it, a few members of the Apple family are coming into Hoofston this weekend,” she said. “These are the fat cats that run Equestria’s biggest industries. They have more wealth than the poorest half of the nation combined. Their presence here has given me a couple of good ideas to send a message and empower the workers of Hoofston to be the birthplace of a new revolution.”

While that claim seemed dubious at best, Kestrel did her best to not show her thoughts on her face. “And those ideas are…?”

“We have to show the workers in the factories that the bourgeoisie are not invincible,” Starlight said. “Which means we have to hurt them in some way. One idea I had was too try and take over a factory and get the workers to rally out from under the nose of that tycoon, Applejack. Another was to go after her sister and get a ransom for her. That money could go a long way in funding the growth of the equality movement in Equestria.”

“Ain’t her sister still a filly?” Tumbleweed asked her.

“She’s twelve,” Starlight said with a nod. “But no harm would come to her. After all, I’m sure the Conglomerates would pay quite handsomely out of their pockets to make sure that stays true.”

“And what if we ain’t all that interested in startin’ an uprisin’ or foalnappin’ a filly?” Kestrel asked, frowning at Starlight. “Any plans where somepony ain’t gonna get hurt?”

“Honor among thieves, then?” Starlight shrugged. “Well, Applejack and her family are holding a big event outside of the city next week where they’re debuting some of their newest inventions. Crashing that event will humiliate them, and you’ll probably find some interesting things to take. I heard they were supposed to be debuting a new prototype flying machine there, something that can fly under its own power instead of relying on hot air and wind currents like a balloon.”

“Now what in Celestia’s name would we get out of stealin’ a flyin’ machine?” Tumbleweed asked.

“Not sure, but you look resourceful and capable. Maybe somepony will buy it off of you.” Starlight leaned back into her seat and gestured toward the bar to order a round of drinks. “Whatever we do, it has to be big enough to make a fool out of the Conglomerates, show the workers of Equestria that the capitalists can be beat. That’s the first step in bringing about equality for all; you have to show people they can win before they’re willing to play the game.”

Kestrel chewed on her lip as she thought through each of the scenarios. “They’re all pretty dangerous,” she said. “Lotta unknowns.”

“I’ll be working with you to try and sort things out,” Starlight said with a grin as three beers arrived at their table. “I mostly need capable help, not thinkers, and given what we know about each other…” She let the rest hang unsaid, underscoring the tenuous alliance between revolutionary and outlaw at the table.

“Right,” Tumbleweed said, taking his mug of beer in his magic. “But if it’s my ponies who are gonna be riskin’ life and limb for this, then we get to make the choice on what we do.”

“Go ahead,” Starlight said with a dismissive gesture. “All three should help out the cause equally enough.”

Kestrel pulled her beer closer and frowned into the white froth bubbling around the mouth of the mug.

Start a worker’s rally. Gettin’ the workers of the factories to band together and march on outta there should be simple enough. Might be able to dig through the offices once we’re done, though who knows how much we’ll come across there.

Kidnap Applejack’s sister. Foalnappin’s dirty stuff, but Applejack is one of the richest ponies in Equestria. Imagine the ransom she’d pay to have her sweet sister returned back to her safe and sound.

Crash the Conglomerates’ Conference. Who knows what we’ll find at that conference? Might be able to come across somethin’ worth our time, though a high profile event like that’s bound to have good security.

Back out. On second thought…

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 62

Crash the Conglomerates’ Conference: 5 Votes

“I ain’t got much experience with startin’ an uprisin’,” Kestrel said, slowly spinning her mug of beer in her hooves. “I also ain’t got much nice to say ‘bout foalnappers. But buckin’ rich snobs in the teeth and takin’ their valuables out from under ‘em, well, that’s somethin’ we got experience in.”

Tumbleweed nodded in agreement. “We do try to maintain a sort of neutral outlook on life, Miss Starlight,” he said to the revolutionary sitting across from them. “The best way to do that is to balance the books while keepin’ our honor intact, and not gettin’ involved in anythin’ outside of the safety of our family. That all bein’ said, I think this conference is a wonderful opportunity for us to work together.”

Starlight nodded and lifted her beer in her magic. “I can respect that,” she said, then taking a sip. She licked her lips and set it down, tapping her hooves together in excitement. “The important thing is that we’re making a statement against the Conglomerates. I don’t care how exactly we go about doing it, so long as it’s made for all of Equestria to see it.”

“It’ll get made,” Tumbleweed assured her. “Though we certainly do try to avoid drawin’ too much attention to ourselves, given our past with the authorities.”

“Some things are unavoidable,” Starlight said with a shrug. “But we’ll see what we can do.” Then she smiled at them. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own.”

“Don’t thank us for nothin’ yet,” Kestrel cautioned her. “Save it for when it’s done.”

“Do you know anythin’ more about this conference?” Tumbleweed pressed her. “If we’re gonna be riskin’ life and limb for you, then we need to know what we’re up against and what the score’s gonna be.”

Starlight pursed her lips in thought and glanced toward the ceiling as she dug through her memories. “The conference is supposed to last all week,” she said. “It starts in three days, on Monday. They’ll be setting up tents and displays in a field to the east of Hoofston this weekend for the public to look at while they’re there. It’s all a whole show to convince the public to give them more money so they can keep making these ‘amazing’ inventions.”

The unicorn stuck her tongue out in disgust, and Kestrel tapped her chin in the intervening silence. “There’s plenty of time to hit it, then.”

“Maybe even before,” Tumbleweed said. “If we go in while they’re still settin’ up, security’s probably gonna be lesser than when the conference is in full swing.”

“There will also be fewer eyes on it,” Starlight said with a frown. “Next Friday, a week from today, is supposed to be the main event, the grand finale to the conference. I don’t know what the Apples plan on showing off then, but it’s bound to be big. The perfect time to strike and make a statement.”

“If we don’t mind goin’ up against a score of guards,” Kestrel said. She looked Starlight in the eye and added, “You know these folks likely have their own police force workin’ with ‘em.”

Starlight drew back the corners of her lips in a restrained snarl. “Enforcers for the fat cats,” she said. “They’re employed solely to stamp out any resistance and beat workers trying to unionize and strike to within inches of their lives to keep control over them. I’d kill the lot of them if I could. All the more reason to crash the place on Friday.”

“We’d need more than just the three of us,” Tumbleweed said.

“I was under the impression there were a lot more of you,” Starlight countered. “At the very least a few extra capable bodies. If it was just the two of you, you wouldn’t be interested in taking on the richest and most powerful in Equestria, hmm?”

“Well, you ain’t wrong ‘bout that,” Kestrel said, shaking her head. She took several gulps of her beer and set it aside. “We got five more of us we can reasonably get to help out. That all depends on the plan, though. We need a good one ‘fore we make any moves.”

“I’ll spend time investigating the conference to see what I can learn before we act,” Starlight said. “In the meanwhile, we know we’ll have eight of us, going by what you said. That should be more than enough to disrupt this conference and make a statement. I say we do it on Friday when we have the most eyes watching the Apples, but I’m not the one with the final say in that, am I?”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed looked at each other, and Kestrel shrugged. “We’re doin’ the heavy labor here,” she said to him. “We should figure out when’s best to strike.”

STARLIGHT GLIMMER has joined the Gang as a temporary ally:

Starlight Glimmer
Age: 31
Description: Unicorn Mare, lavender coat, full of revolutionary fervor.
Healthiness: 7/10
Gunslinger: 3/10
Muscle: 4/10
Sweet Talker: 8/10
Scholar: 8/10
Instincts: 7/10
Lady Luck: 5/10
Honor: -15

Status:

None (this character is healthy and normal)

Quirks:

Revolutionary [Equality]: This character is wholly committed to a cause, willing to kill and be killed in its name, and does not tolerate Anti-Revolutionaries of their cause.

Inspiring Leader: This character inspires loyalty in others, making them more likely to follow orders without question.

Skills:

Trained Mage: This character may make Magic attacks using Scholar as their attack ability, and may use their Scholar ability to solve problems using spells.

This weekend. The Apples aren’t in town until sometime this weekend, and the conference is still bein’ set up. Security’s likely to be pretty light, but I doubt we’re gonna find somethin’ worth the effort and attention it’ll bring. [LOW RISK, LOW REWARD, MINIMAL EXPOSURE]

During the middle of the conference. It’s a nice balance of what Starlight wants and what we want. We ain’t lookin’ for much attention, but it’s durin’ the conference itself, so it’ll make her statement. There’s bound to be somethin’ good there, too. [AVERAGE RISK, UNKNOWN REWARD, MODERATE EXPOSURE]

During the grand finale on Friday. We don’t know what’s goin’ on Friday, but it’s bound to be huge. All that extra security could come with a huge payday if we can pull it off. [HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD, HIGH EXPOSURE]

Author's Note

Sorry about the delay in the chapters; the holidays are a crazy time, and this is the first time I've had since they started to sit down and write out the next chapter. Expect a return to the usual schedule on Monday.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 63

During the grand finale on Friday: 6 Votes

Quirk Gained: Daring

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t make our move during the finale,” Tumbleweed said after a moment’s consideration. “After all, crashin’ a conference like this on any day of the week don’t require much tact or thought to it. Crashin’ the conference during the finale when everypony’s got eyes on it, well, that’s how you make a statement.”

“Hopefully not too much of a statement,” Kestrel said back to him. “We don’t want to get the Pinks dropped on us ‘fore we even have much time to get comfortable here in Hoofston.”

“The Pinks’d be here no matter what we did soon as they heard this big conference got robbed. Least this way, we get to stay ‘til Friday before they sniff us out.”

Across the table, Starlight Glimmer seemed more than pleased with the outlaws’ decision. “Great! Excellent!” she exclaimed, excitedly tapping her hooves together. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you so much for providing it to me! The Revolution needs everypony it can get!”

Kestrel rolled her eyes. “We ain’t interested in your revolution, Starlight,” she reminded the unicorn. “We’re just in it for the money. Just so happens that our interests align enough to work with you.”

“It’s a partnership born of equal opportunity,” Starlight countered. “And when we’re done with the Conglomerates, Equestria should be a little more equal than when we started.”

“If that’s what you believe, then go for it.” Tumbleweed lifted his beer mug to his lips and drained its contents in a few gulps, then set it aside. He wiped the froth off of his lips with a fetlock and then stood up. “In the meanwhile, perhaps it’s best we don’t be seen with each other ‘til it’s time to act. Don’t want to raise suspicions and the like.”

“Even with your disguises?” Starlight asked, cocking her head. She waved off any response with her hoof. “Yes, it’s best to remain discreet about this matter until it’s time to act. In the meanwhile, we should use the week we have to gather information and plan out our strike. Unless your gang is more of an ‘act first, think later’ bunch?”

Kestrel shook her head and slid across the bench to stand up next to Tumbleweed. “That’s how amateurs do it,” she said, once more trying to get her skirt to settle comfortably over her hindquarters now that she wasn’t sitting down anymore. “And we ain’t amateurs.”

“That’s reassuring to hear,” Starlight said. She too stood up and put some bits down on the table to pay for the drinks. “I’m going to ask around with some friends and contacts to see if I can get a better idea of what’s going to happen at this grand finale. They should be able to let me know what the Apples are planning. You might benefit from investigating the grounds of the conference once they finish setting it up to figure out what the best approach is.”

“I’m sure we will,” Kestrel said, nodding to the revolutionary. “We’ll meet up here again on Wednesday to discuss what we’ve found. Should give us plenty of time to figure out on Thursday what our plan’s gonna be.”

“Wednesday, then,” Starlight said with a smile. She gave the two ponies a salute and walked past them toward the door. “And the revolution begins on Friday.”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed watched her go, then shook their heads. “Filled with revolutionary zeal yet, Kessie?” Tumbleweed asked, an amused smile forming on his lips.

“Ready to fight and die for the cause,” Kestrel replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Come on, let’s go. We should probably start making our way back to camp, we spent enough time wanderin’ around this city before we met our idealist.”

“We’ll probably be back ‘fore the old timers and Trixie,” Tumbleweed said as they made their way out of the door. “They don’t move so fast when they get some time to themselves.”

“I’m sure Trixie is doin’ everythin’ she possibly can to make that experience end as quickly as possible,” Kestrel said. She rolled her shoulders as she stepped outside, grimacing at how sweaty and cramped her wings felt trapped under her dress in the hot sun of the south. “And I’ll do anythin’ to get outta this dress soon as I can to stretch my wings.”

“I’m sure it must be torture. Come on, then.”

An hour later, the two ponies found themselves once more on the outskirts of their camp, leaving the road behind to step into the treeline. They didn’t have far to go before they came across Snapshot resting in the shadows, rifle across his lap as he rested with his back against a tree. The stallion only nodded at them, and when Tumbleweed asked if anypony had gotten too close to the camp while they were gone, he shook his head. Relieved, the two gang leaders made their way to the inner clearing of the camp, where Kestrel immediately tore off her dress in one smooth motion, stretched her wings to their full glory, and let the illusion shatter off of her body as it failed to compensate for the motion of two additional wings.

“It feels so damn good to be home,” Kestrel said, fluttering a few feet off the ground. “Next time we go to town, I ain’t gonna bother with the damn disguise. Wearin’ somepony else’s skin just makes my own crawl.”

“You’ll probably think mighty differently if it gets you caught by the Pinks,” Tumbleweed said. His own illusion faded away with a glow from his horn, and he made his way over to his tent to change out of the rancher’s clothes and into his normal attire. “The others should be back soon. We’ll have a chance to confer with them when they arrive. In the meanwhile, take it easy for a bit. Maybe see what Roughshod is up to. Who knows where he wandered off to.”

“Do I really care?” Kestrel asked, shrugging her wings. “He’s a grown-ass stallion. I ain’t gonna be his momma. If his own didn’t want him, why should I?”

Tumbleweed chuckled at that and ducked into his tent. “True enough, Kessie. True enough.”

Kestrel made her way back to her own lean-to and dug out her usual duster and clothing. At least she could fly in that, and the cloth kept the sun off of her back, which was about the only real reason to wear clothing this far south. She had some time to relax, she knew, and get situated before Tumbleweed discussed the findings with everypony later tonight. The only thing she had to do now was decide on how to spend it.

Find where Roughshod went off to. Tumbleweed said he might be down by the lake. Wonder if he noticed anythin’ we should know about while we were gone?

Keep Snapshot some company. The stallion spends so much time on his own, keepin’ watch for us. Maybe he’d like to have somepony else hang around with him while we wait for the others to get back.

See how Silver is doing. Wonder if Silvie is feelin’ better. Maybe I should talk to her, try to smooth things over from last night, as awful and embarrassin’ as that was…

Go exploring. Might be somethin’ interestin’ near our camp. At the very least, a flight’ll help me stretch out sore muscles.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 64

Go exploring: 8 Votes

After taking a few minutes to look around the camp, Kestrel decided to spread her wings and take to the skies. She’d considered finding somepony to talk to until the rest of the Gang got back, but ultimately decided against it. Snapshot wasn’t much of a talker, things with Silver would be more awkward than she was willing to deal with right now, and the last thing she wanted to do was subject herself to more Roughshod. The stallion was best handled in small doses, and with some time before Trixie and Wanderer and Miss Irons returned with supplies, she’d get more than a day’s dose if she ended up getting stuck with him.

But was he better or worse than listening to Starlight Glimmer rattle off about equality and the working class? Kestrel didn’t know. Politics weren’t all that important to her, considering that no matter what Equestria’s government looked like, it would still want her in jail or on the end of a rope. And on top of that, if the Gang did manage to assemble enough money to get away and live out the rest of their days free from the Law’s reach, it wouldn’t matter much to her anyway.

Circling above the camp, Kestrel rose into the waning sunlight of late afternoon. The air was cooler here without the grasses and trees to trap the sun’s heat against the ground, but the lack of clouds in the sky didn’t leave her with any shade to keep the sun out of her face. Rather than burn energy and work up a sweat trying to climb in the face of the sunlight, Kestrel instead held her wings stiff and circled from thermal to thermal, rising ever higher into the sky until she could see for miles around the camp. Once she settled herself into a slow circle a thousand feet or so above the lake, Kestrel scanned her eyes left and right, looking for anything that immediately stood out from her lofty perch.

Kestrel uses Lady Luck (6) to spot something interesting near the camp: Success

After a few minutes, her eyes picked out a thin streak of gray rising into the sky from the south. Frowning, she followed it down to its source, or as close to it as she could get. The fire itself was out of sight behind rocks and trees, but it wasn’t too far away from the camp. Plotting out the distance from above, Kestrel figured it was only about three miles away from the Gang’s camp. Had that been there last night?

She stopped circling and hovered in place as she rubbed her chin with a hoof. No, that was new, and she didn’t see anything around the hills that would warrant somepony pitching up camp so far from the road leading into Hoofston. Maybe it was related to the campfire on the overlook south of the city the day before? She turned her eyes in that direction and didn’t see anything, so whoever had been there was gone now. Or maybe they’d just moved… but in that case, why?

Frowning, Kestrel swooped lower to pick up some speed and began flying south. She had time to kill, after all, and this warranted investigation. If bounty hunters or bandits were camping out within miles of the Gang, then she needed to know. Their safety could very well depend on it.

It only took her a few minutes to close the distance by wing, and she tried to draw a line between the camp and the sun to fly along that would keep her hidden from anypony on the ground looking up. With her back to Celestia’s ball of fire, she quickly scanned the camp for ponies, trying to establish a headcount and to figure out what she was dealing with.

Are there ponies by the fire? Critical Yes

Kestrel’s frowned sharpened as she surveyed the camp from afar. There were only three ponies sitting around the fire that she could see, but she counted twelve tents arranged in a ring around it. Where the rest of the ponies were, she had no idea, but there was a lot more sleeping space staked out than there were ponies by the fire. Most of the tents looked like two pony tents as well. So where were the others?

Chewing her lip, Kestrel stroked the handle of one revolver with the tip of her hoof. That there were only three ponies around the fire was a blessing if she decided to investigate. She could certainly take on three if trouble started. The multitude of additional tents, however, concerned her, and there was no real means of telling what she was dealing with without getting closer. Were they just prospectors looking for gold in the hills? Outlaws lying in wait within striking distance of the roads? Maybe they were even just botanists counting shriveled blades of grass for all she knew. But there was no way of telling from this distance.

She had to decide if it was worth investigating, or if it was better to go back to Tumbleweed now.

Get closer but be ready to run if seen. I can fly closer to the camp to get a better look, but the closer I get, the more likely I’ll be seen. It’s hard to stay hidden in the sun’s rays when gettin’ that close, and if I’m spotted, I might as well be ready to flee.

Get closer but be willing to talk if seen. I can fly closer to the camp to get a better look, but the closer I get, the more likely I’ll be seen. If they do happen to see me, and if they ain’t gonna start shootin’ at me immediately, then I’ll touch down and see what we’re dealin’ with.

Talk to the ponies. There’s only three of ‘em; they ain’t that much of a threat if things go down. I can fly into their camp and see what’s goin’ on, and shoot my way out if things go south.

Report back to Tumbleweed. Gettin’ closer’s too risky. But by the time I fly back to camp, I ain’t gonna have the sun behind me anymore, which means no dealin’ with whatever this is until later. By that time, the other twenty-some ponies could show up again, and if they’re up to no good, then we ain’t got a chance of figurin’ out what’s goin’ on here.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 65

Get closer but be willing to talk if seen: 6 Votes

After a moment to think about it, Kestrel decided to tilt her wings forward and fly a little closer. She needed to know whoever it was that was making a camp this far out from the roads and Hoofston itself. The placement of the camp was odd, and that was enough to make her concerned and suspicious. She needed to take the opportunity that was presenting itself to her with most of the inhabitants seemingly elsewhere at the moment.

Keeping the sun to her back, Kestrel began a slow glide down toward the camp, losing altitude to do her best to keep herself along the line between camp and sun. It was a difficult maneuver to pull off from afar; she just had to hope she’d judged her flight path well enough. But the closer she got to the camp, the more details she could make out with her sharp eyes, soon she felt she’d seen enough to get a general feel for how much danger she was flying toward.

How dangerous does the camp seem from afar? Slightly Below Average (4/10)

Though from what Kestrel could see, nothing stood out as particularly remarkable. There weren’t any armed ponies keeping watch around the camp’s perimeter, and while she did see a wagon that looked like it was half-stocked with repeaters and rifles, it looked fairly scant compared to the modest arsenal the Gang kept for itself, especially since the addition of the Chatter gun. That meant that either most of the guns were elsewhere at the moment, perhaps with the rest of the ponies that presumably inhabited the place, or there were ponies who weren’t expected to fight in the camp.

Kestrel tried to run that through her brain. The number of tents heavily implied these ponies were travelers, and they had a few wagons to go with it. Where exactly they were traveling from and where they were traveling to, she didn’t have the slightest idea. There simply wasn’t enough around the camp to figure that out.

Does Kestrel remain unnoticed by the camp? No

Is the camp hostile? No

As she approached, however, one of the ponies looked up, shielded their eyes against the sun, and pointed upwards. The heads of their two compatriots turned as well, and Kestrel hovered in place, startled at being seen. She drifted backwards a bit, ready to dart to safety if any firearms were raised against her, but the only thing raised was a welcoming hoof. Tentatively, Kestrel drew closer, trying to glean if the ponies had any ill-intent towards her, but they only patiently waited on the ground for her to land. So, opting to be daring and see what she could learn, Kestrel circled down to the fire and landed a safe distance away, ready to react if any sudden hostility were to show itself.

But the ponies didn’t suddenly draw arms and fire; they hardly looked like ponies that fought at all. They looked more like a family, with an older mare and stallion sitting next by another stallion who was around Kestrel’s age. They didn’t wear bandoliers or carry firearms by their sides; the only things they wore were clothes stained with dirt and mud from work and toil. They were hardly a threat, Kestrel concluded, and she tucked her wings against her sides and pulled the tips away from her revolvers.

“Howdy, traveler,” the older stallion said, a hoof touching the brim of his hat. “Lookin’ for a bite to eat? Place to sit and rest your wings?”

Kestrel quickly held up a hoof. “I couldn’t,” she said, sitting down across the fire from the family. “I was just passin’ through and saw your camp. Curiosity got the better of me.”

“You normally go flyin’ ‘round others’ camps?” the mare asked, narrowing her eyes at the outlaw. “Mighty suspicious, you ask me.”

“Sweet Tea, hush now,” the first stallion said. “That ain’t no way to treat a guest.”

“A guest who’s snoopin’ ‘round where she shouldn’t, Slip Knot,” Sweet Tea said, crossing her forelegs. Her stare hardened all the more at Kestrel. “You by yourself, missy?”

“You see anypony else in that sky?” Kestrel asked, shrugging. She pulled a cigarette out from her duster pocket and lit it off the fire, relaxing some as she let herself have a quick smoke. “I got friends in Hoofston, if you really wanna know why I’m out here. Was on my way into town to see ‘em. Your camp caught my eye, though. Plenty far away from the main roads, ain’t it?”

“We like our privacy,” the younger stallion said, smiling easily at her. “Towns are a little too crowded for us.”

“I know how you feel,” Kestrel said with a nod. “I prefer the open country myself. Campin’ under the stars, that’s the way life was meant to be.”

“Yeah, you say that, but nothin’ beats a soft bed,” Slip Knot said, rolling his shoulders. He smirked at Sweet Tea, who only scowled at him. “Though some of us would be happier with rocks and cots.”

“Better than goin’ into that damn town.” Sweet Tea turned her attention back to Kestrel. “You ain’t a bounty hunter, are you? You got the look of one about you.”

Kestrel ruffled her feathers at her side and leaned back, cigarette hanging from her lips. “Whatever gives you that impression?”

“You dress like one,” the younger stallion said. “You got two revolvers. You look like wherever you are, trouble ain’t far behind.”

Slip Knot shook his head. “That ain’t no way to treat a guest, Crosstie. Both of you! Show a little more respect.”

Spotted gray wings waved him off. “Oh, I’m used to it,” Kestrel said. “Crosstie’s right, I’m more accustomed to trouble than I care to be. Have to be ready to ward it off at a moment’s notice.” Finishing her cigarette, she flicked the butt into the fire, where it curled into scorched flakes of tobacco in seconds. “What about you three? Looks like you travel in a group, and I know that gun wagon ain’t all for you. Find yourselves in trouble often?”

“We usually try to move to avoid comin’ across trouble,” Slip Knot said. “Seems to be when we go into town, a lotta ponies get angry. It’s better to camp out in the wild with like-minded individuals.”

“I guess we ain’t so different then, you and I,” Kestrel said, gesturing between them all with a wing. “I figure if we started talkin’ ‘bout politics and the state of this country, we’d have a lotta common ground.”

“I suppose we would,” Slip Knot said with a nod. He glanced at Sweet Tea, who kept her suspicious eyes locked on Kestrel, and raised an eyebrow. “How’d you like to stay for dinner?” he said. “The rest of our crew should be comin’ back sometime soon, and they’ll get somethin’ good whipped up for us. It’ll give us a chance to talk a bit more.”

Kestrel chewed on her lip, thinking it over some. “Don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe.”

“It’ll be fine,” Slip Knot said. “We got whiskey and beer if you want some. Stay awhile; you look like you got some interestin’ stories to tell.”

Kestrel uses Instincts (7) to gauge the other ponies’ intentions: Success

Kestrel took her time thinking through her response, giving Slip Knot and the other two ponies a few discreet looks. Sweet Tea seemed to want her gone, that much was certain, but Slip Knot wanted her to stay, while Crosstie seemed more bemused by the whole thing. And as far as she could tell, Slip Knot didn’t seem to have any ill-intentions planned for her. Perhaps Sweet Tea was just being wary of strangers, while Slip Knot had too much hospitality for her own good.

The decision on whether to stay or go was up to her, however.

Stay for dinner. Ah, ain’t no reason not to hang ‘round for a bit. Slipknot’s nice enough, even if his wife (I think) ain’t, and it seems we got more in common than meets the eye. Perhaps findin’ some common ground with another group of ponies who ain’t best friends with authority could be useful in the long run.

Leave. Perhaps it’d be best if I left now before a bunch more ponies showed up. Last thing I want is to get stuck in a camp with twenty-some ponies, ‘specially if a few end up bein’ pegasi that could fly after me, unlike these three.

Help myself to their supplies, whether they like it or not. It’s me against three of ‘em, and they ain’t got no guns nor magic. What are three earth ponies gonna do against a pegasus with two revolvers? I’m sure they’ve got somethin’ valuable lyin’ around that might be of value to the Gang…

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 66

Stay for Dinner: 11 Votes

After a moment to consider the offer (and a moment to realize just how thirsty she’d gotten during the flight over), Kestrel shrugged her wings. “Aw, shoot, why not,” she said, leaning back a bit and relaxing some. “I weren’t gonna meet up with my friends ‘til after dinnertime anyhow. If you’re offerin’ beer, then I might as well hang ‘round a bit.”

Slip Knot smiled back at her, obviously pleased. “Excellent! We can share a drink and a few stories while we wait for Fallow and the others to come back.” He gestured in Crosstie’s direction. “Go get us some beers, Cross. I hope we still have some lyin’ around.”

“We should,” was all Crosstie said as he stood up and trotted away from the fire. Kestrel watched him go for a moment before turning back to Slip Knot and Sweet Tea, the latter of which still watched her with marked suspicion. Sighing Kestrel shook her head. “If I’d wanted to kill you all and steal your things, ma’am, I’d have done it by now.”

Sweet Tea scowled back at her. “Brutish, ain’t you?”

“On the contrary, I think she’s proven to be quite the opposite,” Slip Knot said.

The mare harrumphed and stood up. “I’m gonna start preparin’ dinner,” she said, walking away from the fire. “Fallow and the others are like to be hungry when they get back. Best to have somethin’ waitin’ for ‘em.”

Kestrel and Slip Knot watched her go, at least until the stallion shook his head. “Pardon my wife of mine,” he said. “She ain’t real friendly ‘round strangers.”

“Why’s that?” Kestrel asked him. “Strangers do you wrong before?”

“In a sense…” Slip Knot trailed off as Crosstie returned to them, four beers at the ready. He gave one each to Kestrel and Slip Knot, only to look around in confusion.

“Where’d Ma go?” he asked.

“Off to prepare dinner. Sit,” Slip Knot said, and Crosstie took his place at his side. The three ponies took their beers in hoof (or wing) and raised them to their lips. Though the ale was hardly as refreshing as water, it was still liquid, and so slaked Kestrel’s thirst for the time being.

After taking a few gulps, she set it aside and wiped her lips on the back of her fetlock. “Fine ale,” she said. “I’m usually more of a whiskey mare than beer, but whiskey ain’t quite as refreshing after a flight.”

“I can imagine. Must get hot up there under the sun,” Slip Knot said.

“It’s cooler than the ground,” Kestrel said. “The heat ain’t got nothin’ to stick to. If the sun’s on your back, though, it don’t matter all that much in the end.”

Slip Knot hummed in understanding, and the three ponies spent a few minutes watching the fire and sipping on their beers in silence. It only ended when Kestrel once again tried to needle her way to the heart of the matter. “You mentioned you ain’t that welcome in towns,” she said, idly reading the label on the bottle between her hooves. “Why’s that?”

“Ma’s right,” Crosstie said, snickering. “You sure is nosey.”

“Why don’t you go first?” Slip Knot countered, smiling easily at Kestrel. When the pegasus raised an eyebrow, he simply shrugged back at her. “Sweet Tea’s a good judge of character, and Crosstie’s right; you dress like you always got trouble behind you. Which is funny, ‘cause bounty hunters are always lookin’ for the trouble in front of ‘em.” When Kestrel only met his accusation with hard silence, the stallion took a sip from his beer and offered her a disarming smile. “If you’re worried that we’d turn you over to the authorities, don’t be. They never was kind to us, so we don’t see no love for ‘em.”

After a moment to think, Kestrel shrugged. “I ain’t gonna give you my real name ‘til I know you better,” she said. “But you can call me Raptor for the time bein’. You ain’t gonna find that name on any wanted posters ‘round town. Maybe the face, but not the name. And before you ask, I ain’t ever killed a pony who weren’t tryin’ to kill me first.”

Crosstie’s bemused mirth faded into mild concern. “Guess you’re tougher than I would’ve give you credit for,” he said, watching her carefully, as if she was about to spring up and shoot him down at the drop of a hat. “So why are you wanted, then?”

“I stole from too many ponies askin’ to be stole from,” Kestrel said. “Rich ponies like the Apple Family or Miss Belle. The government and the military, too. Them ponies ain’t gonna miss what I’ve taken, but the ponies that count on me? We needed it a lot more than them.” Her eyes narrowed on Slip Knot. “So, there’s mine. How ‘bout yours?”

After a moment, Slip Knot nodded. “Fair’s fair,” he said, taking a few more gulps from his beer and tossing the empty bottle aside. “We’re all runaways of some sort,” he said, and Kestrel raised an eyebrow in response. “Not in the strictest sense,” Slip Knot elaborated. “But the ponies that fall in with Fallow? We’ve had our share gettin’ kicked around by ponies above us. Sweet Tea, Crosstie, and me? We had a little farm on some land east of here. It was my daddy’s land, and his daddy’s before him, and his before him, and so on. Well, turns out there was gold under that land—black gold. You know the kind I’m talkin’ about.”

Kestrel nodded along. “Oil barons’ll kill for what they think should be theirs,” she said. “Don’t matter none who has the land in the first place.”

“Right.” Slip Knot’s eyes fell to the ground, staring through the dirt under his hooves to some distant place and memory. “This stallion, I don’t remember his name, he tried for months to get me to move off our land. Tried to buy it off me, tried to convince me the land was worthless, tried to steal the deed even. But my family’s owned that land forever, so I weren’t about to give it up. Then… well, I guess he ran outta patience.”

The stallion’s face grew dark, and Crosstie’s along with it. “Some of his goons came one night and torched the fields, torched the barn, torched the silos. Burnt everythin’ down. The law didn’t help us none ‘cause he probably paid ‘em off or somethin’. Said they’d look into who dunnit, and then we never heard boo ‘bout it again. It didn’t matter, though. Without the harvest, without our tools, we couldn’t keep the farm anymore. It ruined us. And when the bank closed it down and auctioned off the land, who do you think got it on the cheap?”

“I’m… sorry,” Kestrel said, offering the stallion and his son her sympathies.

“Well, thank you for what it’s worth.” Slip Knot gazed somewhere over her shoulder. “We met Fallow shortly after that. He took us in, gave us food and a tent to put over our heads. He never once asked us to follow him, but we did anyway, just like the others. He attracts ponies like us. Gives us hope that there’s somethin’ still worth livin’ for, fightin’ for. Every one of us was a proud pony once, ‘til we had everythin’ we owned taken from us. Fallow’s the only one who gave somethin’ back.”

Distant voices drawing nearer perked Kestrel’s ears, and she glanced over her shoulder in that direction. Soon enough, a procession of stallions and mares, some carrying rifles, others carrying burlap bags, began to make their way into the camp. And at their head was an older pony, maybe fifty-some years old, with a face that reminded Kestrel of a grandfather’s. The dull brown horn protruding from his head was split, and though bags hung under his eyes, the pale gold discs seemed bright with energy and purpose.

“There he is,” Slip Knot said, standing up and motioning for Kestrel to do the same. “C’mon over. Fallow’ll want to meet you.”

Already committed to dinner, Kestrel saw no reason to refuse.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 67

Fallow’s group of followers had already dispersed to the different tents and wagons around the camp by the time Slip Knot led Kestrel over to him. The older pony had his back turned toward them, patiently watching two mares sort some of the burlap sacks they’d arrived with. Kestrel spotted food and grains in the opening, though Fallow turning towards her as she approached blocked her view. “Slip Knot,” Fallow said, his eyes first falling on the stallion next to Kestrel. “I see you weren’t too bored while we were gone.”

His eyes flicked to Kestrel, looking her up and down, sizing her up, feeling her out. Kestrel pinched her wings against her sides as the stallion scrutinized her, while Slip Knot made the introductions. “She’s a traveler, kind of like us,” Slip Knot said, gesturing toward Kestrel. “She said her name is Raptor. Or, least, that’s what she told us to call her.”

Kestrel nodded her affirmation. “Slip Knot said good things about you,” she began, trying to feel Fallow out. “Says that you’re the one that keeps things together ‘round here.”

“Oh, Celestia, no,” Fallow said, somberly shaking his head. “That would be everypony else here. They’re the ones that gather supplies and do what needs to be done to keep us all safe. I’m more of the ear that listens when they need to talk.”

Slip Knot smiled back at Fallow. “You’re more than that to us, Fallow, and you know it.” He started to back away from Kestrel and Fallow. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Gotta see if the wife needs some help makin’ dinner.”

“Yes, some food would be greatly appreciated, I’m sure,” Fallow said, dismissing Slip Knot with a nod. As the stallion trotted away, Fallow slowly turned his shoulders westward and began to walk into the setting sun. Kestrel blinked and arched an eyebrow, but followed along after him in silence as they crossed the camp.

Fallow only stopped when all the tents were behind him, and the little ridge he sat down on gave a good look out into the setting sun. Kestrel angled the brim of her hat down to block out some of the light, but she didn’t sit next to Fallow. Instead, she only stood behind him, hoof scuffing the ground, unsure if the older pony would continue their conversation or not.

After a moment, he did. “Slip Knot said that you were like us,” he stated. “But do you know who we are?”

“He said you were runaways,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “He told me how his family was chased outta their land by some oil barons. Said that the rest of your followers all had similar tales.”

“I suppose that’s right, in the barest sense of it,” Fallow said. “The ponies in this camp… they’ve all been hurt by the world. Many of them terribly so. Some of them are bitterly angry. Some would lash out at the world that wronged them. They would destroy themselves.” He shook his head. “They needed guidance. Nopony else would be willing to spend the time to listen to these hurt ponies. So I volunteered my time.”

Kestrel chuckled and shook her head. “You make it sound plenty simple,” she said. She squinted into the sunset, knowing that somewhere beyond the horizon was the town of Rock Ridge and the chaos she’d barely escaped. “I been hurt by the world plenty of times. Feels better to hurt it back. Sometimes, you gotta hurt the ponies who’d tear things down around you ‘fore they get the chance.”

“And the resulting damage can be catastrophic for those caught in the crossfire.” For the first time since their conversation began, Fallow turned to look at Kestrel. “I know there is anger inside of you. I can sense it, even if you don’t let it show. Your fury is not for yourself, but a tool you use to protect those who count on you. And there are many ponies that count on you, are there not?”

Kestrel reluctantly bowed her head and grunted a confirmation. “My family ain’t blood. It’s a family like yours. Ponies who I’ve come to rely on and who rely on me. And I’ve killed to protect them, and I’ll do it again, and again, over and over ‘til they’re safe. The world has tried to beat me down for so long that I ain’t gonna go down without buckin’ it in the jaw as many times as I can on the way out.”

She wasn’t sure what Fallow’s reaction to that would be; a sad sigh was certainly not what she had been expecting. “I only pray that you lead them right,” he said. “The longer you ride through the storm, the greater the risk of capsizing. I have done my best to keep my own family safe and able to survive in a world that does not want them. Sometimes that means breaking the law to steal what we need to survive. But never killing. And if confronted with the hard choice between kill and flee, then I will urge the ponies in my family to move to greener pastures. Violence begets more violence. It’s a wheel that never stops turning. Many have tried to stop it. Few succeed.”

That left Kestrel snickering. “That’s all well and good in a church sermon or somethin’, Fallow, but you should know as well as I do that the real world ain’t that cut and dry. Ain’t nopony gonna give you nothin’ in this world if you don’t fight for it. That seems like somethin’ all your followers should know by now.”

“It is…” Fallow’s voice trailed off, replaced by silence. The only sounds around the two ponies came from the camp behind them, as chatter and clanging pots and pans heralded the beginning of the dinner hour.

Clearing her throat, Kestrel stood back up. “I… suppose I should have some dinner and be on my way then.”

“I shall not keep you any longer, then,” Fallow said, slowly rising as well. He turned to face her and solemnly dipped his head. “We trot similar paths, Raptor. We both want what is best for the ponies who rely on us. We may disagree on how that should be accomplished, but our desires are the same. I hope that someday I may get the chance to meet your family, as you have met mine.”

“Yeah… maybe someday.” Kestrel touched the brim of her hat with a wingtip in a goodbye, then turned and trotted back toward the camp. As she helped herself to some of the food generously provided to her by Fallow’s followers, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of ponies she’d discovered just a few miles away from the Gang’s campsite… and what she’d tell Tumbleweed when she flew back.

Allies. These ponies could be useful to us, and our goals roughly align. Maybe they’d even help with Starlight’s plan to crash the conference.

Enemies. These ponies are our competition, little more. Fallow admitted that they steal and cross the law to survive like us, just less violently so. They’ll attract attention we don’t want, and we should deal with them in some fashion.

Nobody. These ponies ain’t important to us; let Fallow do his thing and we’ll do ours, and ain’t nopony gonna have to be bothered.

A change in direction. Maybe Fallow’s onto somethin’… Maybe it’s time to change how we do things…

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 68

Nobody: 9 Votes

The sun had finally disappeared by the time Kestrel finished her dinner, though the western sky was still aflame in reds and yellows when she took wing. Slipping out of the camp without too much fuss, just enough to find Slip Knot and thank him for the invitation and the meal, Kestrel soon found herself flying over the Equestrian countryside with nothing but her thoughts for company. They weren’t many, but they kept her occupied for the few miles between Fallow’s camp and her own.

By the time she alighted in the middle of the camp’s clearing, the Gang had just begun to finish up their meal, dumping their tins into the wash bucket as they finished the stew. She was pleased to see that Trixie had returned with a wagon full of supplies, though the crates and sacks of provisions hadn’t been neatly sorted yet.

Did Trixie, Miss Irons, or Wanderer run into any trouble while in town? No

“There she is,” came Wanderer’s voice, and Kestrel glanced aside to see Wanderer waving a ruddy wing at her. “Tumbleweed told us you’d flown off to explore. Did you find anything?”

Kestrel nodded and trotted closer to the table, where Wanderer, Tumbleweed, Roughshod, and Snapshot were in the middle of a hoof of poker. She pulled over a stool with a wing and sat down at the corner, sizing up the stacks of bits scattered between the four stallions. As per usual, Snapshot’s unshakeable poker face seemed to be doing him well, while Roughshod’s aggressive bluffing had dug himself a hole he couldn’t get out of. “I found a whole bunch of ponies campin’ in the hills a few miles from here,” she said.

“Another camp?” Tumbleweed asked her, eyebrow raised. A minor note of apprehension crept into his voice; Kestrel didn’t blame him for that at all, though. It was better to be safe than sorry. “Please tell me they ain’t more Vipers, or whatever Hoofston’s got in their stead.”

“They’re a gang, but they ain’t gonna be a problem to us,” Kestrel said. “They were friendly enough, actually. They offered me food, and I had a chat with their leader. Stallion by the name of Fallow.”

“A friendly gang?” Roughshod derisively snorted. “Ain’t no such thing. It’s kill or be killed in the Southwest.”

“They ain’t model citizens of the law, no, but everythin’ they do, they do for survival.” Kestrel watched Wanderer draw the next card from the deck as the dealer, and the four stallions went through a round of betting, ending with Tumbleweed folding with a disgusted snort. “Fallow don’t want them killin’ ponies, but they’re a-okay with stealin’ to survive.”

“Oh?” Out of the current hoof of the game, Tumbleweed shifted his attention from the cards to his right-hoof mare. “Ain’t that interestin’, then. Why’d they form up if they ain’t willin’ to fight for what’s theirs?”

Kestrel rolled her shoulders, loosening up stiff muscles in her wings. “They’re the beaten down of society,” she told him. “Ponies who got everythin’ taken from ‘em. A family I talked with, they lost their family farm to an oil baron who burnt it down to get the land on the cheap. I bet most of the rest of ‘em got similar stories.”

Tumbleweed seemed to mull that over for a bit, his expression remaining unchanged even when Roughshod loudly shouted and cursed as Snapshot inched out his four of a kind with a straight flush. “This conference job we’re plannin’… I told the rest of the Gang about it ‘fore dinner, soon as Wanderer and the others got back. Think we’d be able to get their help with it?”

“We could, but I don’t think it’s worth pushin’,” Kestrel said. “Standin’ up to the Law ain’t seemin’ like somethin’ they do. Fallow’s just tryin’ to get them to live and avoid violence. Draggin’ ‘em into it ain’t likely gonna be an easy sell for ‘em.”

“That’s a fuckin’ shame,” Roughshod grunted, joining into the conversation as Snapshot dealt the next hoof of cards. “Boss said we’re hittin’ this thing at its busiest. Coulda used some fodder to distract the security that’s gonna be there.”

“We don’t know exactly what everythin’s gonna be like there,” Tumbleweed reminded him. “We’ll figure out more this week when we meet up with Starlight again. She was gonna scout things out, give us the rundown ‘fore we get set to crash the thing.”

“Things to worry about another day,” Wanderer said, quickly folding out of his hoof with a disappointed shake of his head at the first round of betting. “After all, weren’t we gonna have a party tonight?”

“Almost forgot,” Kestrel said. “Today was such a busy day.”

“Well, no time like the present to go crack open a case of beer,” Tumbleweed said, tossing his cards away and standing up from the table. “Wanderer and Miss Irons were kind enough to stock us with all the alcohol we’ll need while we’re in town. I say we put a dent in it tonight.”

Roughshod was more than pleased by that. “It feels like it’s been ages since we last had a party.”

“We celebrated after robbin’ that train in Rock Ridge,” Kestrel reminded him.

“Yeah, and that was ages ago! C’mon, Wanderer, get your guitar and let’s get some music goin’!”

Kestrel chuckled as the stallions all moved to the center of the camp, where Tumbleweed started setting out the crates of alcohol and snacks to celebrate. Word quickly spread around the small camp, and soon Kestrel’s fellow mares approached from different sides of the camp. With the Gang all assembled once more, Tumbleweed hopped onto the deck of the supply wagon and lifted a beer in his magic.

“Friends,” he said, looking out over his small family of outlaws and criminals. “It has been tough for us these past few weeks. It had been a hard struggle to survive. But we are makin’ progress in the world. We escaped from Rock Ridge with a wagon full of gold, and we got so many bright prospects lined up for us here in Hoofston. And now, tonight, since we’ve finally got some breathin’ room to ourselves, I say it’s time to celebrate!”

He lifted up his bottle of beer as the rest of the Gang cheered and snatched their own drinks. Kestrel could only smile as Wanderer dug out his guitar and began to play happy tunes around the fire, the glow filling the leaves of the trees around them with a pleasant orange warmth as the sunlight faded away. She already knew she wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight, but with all the beer and whiskey she could ask for, that wasn’t too much of a bother.

The only question now was who to drag over to her side to sing and dance with while Wanderer entertained them all on his guitar.

Tumbleweed

Roughshod

Snapshot

Silver Wings

Miss Irons

Trixie

Sit it out and just watch the fun.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 69

Tumbleweed: 10 Votes

Music filled the air as shadows took hold of the land, chased away by the orange glow of the campfire. Kestrel cracked open a beer on the back of the wagon, the bottle cap flying off into the darkness, and put the bottom to her lips, hindquarters slightly swaying from side to side as she walked back to the fire while Wanderer played a happy ditty about the rolling prairies of the Equestrian Heartlands. Kestrel found a place by Tumbleweed’s side and added her voice to the song—or as much as she could, anyway, given she was bad at remembering the lyrics. She mostly mumbled or hummed along while Wanderer serenaded the Gang with his wonderfully rich voice.

Of course, as soon as the song was over, Roughshod let out a hoot and raised a bottle of whiskey into the air. “Play us the Ring Dang Doo!” he shouted, and the rest of the Gang laughed, with the exception of Trixie, who simply looked lost.

The magician looked toward Kestrel and cocked an eyebrow. “The what?” she asked, only to yelp in surprise as Roughshod grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to be his dance partner.

Kestrel chuckled and glanced at Tumbleweed. “This oughta be fun.”

“Oh, it certainly will be,” the stallion said, and he put his and Kestrel’s drinks aside with his magic. Then he offered her his hoof, and she shed her duster for the dance and put her hoof in his. The two Gang leaders picked a spot in front of the fire for their little routine, with Silvie and Snapshot pairing up on one side, and Trixie making a confused and concerned partner for Roughshod on the other. As Wanderer strummed up the first chords of the song, Tumbleweed winked at Kestrel, and Kestrel blew a kiss back to him.

When I was just a colt you see,

I met a filly from old Mareis.

She had a blonde mane and blue eyes too;

She let me ride on the ring-dang-do.

Kestrel and Tumbleweed circled each other, their bodies moving flirtatiously, having done the dance to the bawdy song many times before. Silver and Snapshot were more subdued, Snapshot being his usual stiff self, Silver still hampered by her injury, while Trixie looked hopelessly lost as Roughshod led her around. Then everypony save the magician joined in for the chorus, their voices echoing off the trees.

The ring-dang-do, now what is that?

It’s soft and round like a pussycat,

Got a hole in the middle and it’s split in two;

And that’s what you call the ring-dang-do!

Kestrel laughed and swayed her hips from side to side, tail swishing suggestively left and right. When Tumbleweed made to reach for her flank, she made a show of slapping his hoof away with a wing and cantering backwards a few steps, then slowly working her way back closer to Tumbleweed in time with the tune as Wanderer started the next verse.

She took me down into her cellar;

Said that I was a mighty fine fella;

Fed me wine and whiskey too;

Let me ride on the ring-dang-do.

The ring-dang-do, now what is that?

It’s soft and round like a pussycat,

Got a hole in the middle and it’s split in two;

And that’s what you call the ring-dang-do!

Laughter filled the camp at the end of the chorus, even coming from Miss Irons’ lips, who watched the whole thing from just over Wanderer’s shoulder. Trixie had a cherry red blush building on her cheeks, only growing brighter and brighter as she struggled to keep up with Roughshod in the suggestive dance. Kestrel spared a snicker at her expense, then stood up on her hind legs to lock forehooves with Tumbleweed and dance about on two legs.

Her father come in and angrily said;

Now you have lost your maiden head;

Pack your bags and your coat tags too;

Make your living off a ring-dang-do.

The ring-dang-do, now what is that?

It’s soft and round like a pussycat,

Got a hole in the middle and it’s split in two;

And that’s what you call the ring-dang-do!

On the other side, Silver wore a bright smile on her muzzle, only slightly tampered by the bags under her eyes from her time spent sleeping off her injury. Though Snapshot still moved with his usual uncomfortable stiffness, he did have a tiny curve to the corners of his lips, and Kestrel knew that was about the most expression the stallion would let slip to show he was enjoying himself too. It made her all the more happy that she’d gotten some time to relax and celebrate with the Gang, if even Snapshot could take a break from being the stoic sentry and enjoy himself for a night.

She went off to be a whore;

Hung this sign upon her door;

A gold bit each and three for two;

To take a crack at my ring-dang-do.

The ring-dang-do, now what is that?

It’s soft and round like a pussycat,

Got a hole in the middle and it’s split in two;

And that’s what you call the ring-dang-do!

Kestrel felt Tumbleweed’s hoof playfully swat at her flank, her guard having been dropped with the end of the song and seeing Snapshot enjoy himself, so she pouted at Tumbleweed and buffeted his face with her wings, to the roaring laughter of Roughshod. “My ring-dang-do ain’t for sale,” she told Tumbleweed with an easy grin. “Go find a filly from Mareis to take ya for a ride.”

“You mean you ain’t from Prance?” Tumbleweed chuckled back. “I coulda sworn you was, you looked like a Prench poppy out in the field.”

“Pshhh. I ain’t even know what a Prench poppy looks like,” Kestrel said, shaking her head. “I ain’t sophisticated enough for that.”

As the Gang snickered and laughed, Kestrel trotted over to Trixie and put a wing around the magician’s back. “So?” she asked her, cocking her head to the side and smiling into Trixie’s flustered face. “You figure out what the ring-dang-do is yet?”

“Y-Yes… Trixie has an idea,” the magician said, and her magic popped up the collar of her magician’s cloak to try and cover her burning cheeks. “Trixie wishes she could forget it…”

“Ah, a few shots of whiskey’ll take care of that for ya. Speakin’ of which,” Kestrel snatched her beer off the crate and finished it in a few gulps, then chuckled the bottle off to the side. “How about ‘Rye Whiskey’, Wanderer? You know that song’s my favorite.”

“Sure,” Wanderer said, his feathers quickly adjusting the tuning pegs on his guitar. As Kestrel snatched a bottle of whiskey out of the wagon and began to sip it straight, the elderly red pegasus set his feathers over the strings and raised his voice. “This one goes out to our alcoholic gunslinger; may the bottle take her before the Law ever finds her.”

Everypony shared a laugh at Kestrel’s expense, the gunslinger herself included, and Wanderer moved into a more somber tune, well-known by all the mainstays in the Gang:

O Lily, O Lily, it’s for your sake alone;

That I leave my old parents, my house and my home;

My love for you, it has caused me to roam;

I’m a rabble rouser, and the South is my home.

Rather than dance and lurch about the campfire, the Gang all stood in a half-circle around the fire, swaying from side to side in time with the song, and lending their voices to Wanderer’s soulful rendition. The bawdy laughter of before had been replaced with a quiet, calm happiness, and Kestrel couldn’t keep the contented smile off of her muzzle for very long.

Jack o’ diamonds, Jack o’ diamonds;

I know you of old;

You rob my poor pockets;

Of silver and gold;

O Whiskey, you Villain;

You’ve been my downfall;

You’ve kicked me, you’ve cuffed me;

And cause me to brawl.

My hoof’s on the long road, my bags on my back;

I’m leavin’ sweet Lily, and I ain’t comin’ back.

Her parents don’t like me, they say I’m too poor;

They say I’m unworthy to enter her door.

Kestrel’s mind wandered at those words to a mare she used to love a long time ago. It had been the same way with sweet Faith and her father. She wondered where the oil tycoon’s daughter was now, and if she’d ever see her again. It didn’t seem likely—they’d gone their separate ways so long ago—and that was probably for the best. The last thing she needed was to reopen old wounds while trying to survive on the run from the Law… even though she’d already had her chance encounter and missed opportunity with Highball tear open the drawer of ‘what ifs’ she’d thought she’d locked shut long ago.

They say I drink whiskey, my money’s my own;

And them that don’t like me can leave me alone.

I’ll eat when I’m hungry, I’ll drink when I’m dry;

And when I get thirsty, I’ll lay down and cry.

It’s oatcakes when I’m hungry, and whiskey when I’m dry;

Green backs when I’m hard up;

And Hell when I die.

Rye whiskey, rye whiskey;

Rye whiskey I cry;

If I don’t get rye whiskey,

I surely will die.

Kestrel let out a little whoop and put her bottle to her lips, feeling the burn of alcohol scald her throat all the way down. But it put fire in her belly and a little sway to her shoulders, and she hummed in happiness as she looked around the camp. All her friends were here; all her family. And it may be a tough life on the road and on the run, but she wouldn’t give up what she had now for anything in the world.

O filly, O filly, I’ve told you before;

Do make me a pallet, I’ll lie on the floor.

I’ve rambled and trambled this wide world around;

Raisin’ hell with the Gang, that’s where I am bound.

It’s with these gunslingers, dear Lily, I’ll roam;

I’m a rabble rouser and the South is my home.

If the ocean were whiskey, and I were a duck;

I’d dive to the bottom and get one sweet sup;

But the ocean ain’t whiskey, and I ain’t no duck;

So I’ll play Jack o’ diamonds and then we’ll get drunk.

O filly, O filly, I’ve told you before;

Do make me a pallet, I’ll lie on the floor.

Everypony clapped their hooves and cheered for Wanderer as the last chord hovered over the camp, and Tumbleweed stood up and moved to the center of the gathering. “To Kestrel,” he said, raising his drink in his magic. “Who’s done so much for us these past few weeks, who’s helped us get to where we are now. Without her, I would be lost, and we all would be dead.”

Kestrel met his toast with one of her own, whiskey bottle raised in her wing. “To Tumbleweed,” she said, winking back at the stallion, “for keepin’ us all together and keepin’ us on the path to freedom. So long as we stick with the Boss, we ain’t ever gonna fall astray.”

“Tartarus, how about to all of us!” Roughshod shouted, hopping onto his hooves. “We make the laws in our lives, we do what we gotta do to survive. Ponies try to stop us, try to tear us down all the time. Screw ‘em! There’s nopony else like the Gang in all of Equestria, and frankly, they all wish they could be like us!”

That raised a loud chorus of cheers, and Kestrel threw her head back with the bottle to her lips. When everybody had taken a drink to their celebration, Tumbleweed turned around and launched his empty beer bottle as far into the lake as he could with his magic. It splashed down on the still surface several seconds later, and he turned back to the rest of his family. “How about we get some cards goin’ or somethin’? We still got plenty of night to burn!”

“You can enjoy your cards,” Miss Iron said with a small shake of her head. “I haven’t had the time for some good gossip with the mares in seemingly forever. Now that everypony’s all socially lubricated, I think the chatter’s gonna be interesting.”

“True enough,” Tumbleweed chuckled at that, and looked at Kestrel. “Well, Kessie? You in for a few hooves, or do you got some mare’s talk to work outta your system?”

Kestrel is feeling Buzzed and takes -1 to all abilities until she has taken time to rest.

Play cards with the stallions. Been a little while since I wiped the floor with the usual suspects; I’m feelin’ lucky, and I think it’s time I reminded ‘em who the real queen of the cards is.

Share gossip with the mares. I bet Miss Irons and Silvie have got interestin’ things to say, and I bet we can get somethin’ good outta Trixie, too. Been a while since we shared half-true rumors as gals.

Retire early. Y’know, I think I mighta had plenty to drink already…

Author's Note

The songs used are Ring Dang Doo and Rye Whiskey, both out of Red Dead Redemption 2, with a few adjustments.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 70

Share gossip with the mares: 11 Votes

“I just spent all day walkin’ ‘round Hoofston with your smelly flank,” Kestrel said, sticking her tongue out at Tumbleweed. “Think I’m gonna entertain myself with the company of my companions of the gentler sex for a bit.”

“Gentler sex?” Roughshod hooted from over Tumbleweed’s shoulder. “Kessie, I bet you’re the roughest outta all of us in bed!”

“Somepony’s gotta be the top,” Kestrel said, winking at Roughshod. Then she waved her wing and started walking toward the other end of the camp. “Enjoy your cards, stallions. Thank your lucky stars I ain’t in to whoop ya.”

“Y’know, she talks a big game,” she heard Tumbleweed say as she left. “But when was the last time she actually put down with us?”

“We’re just too intimidatin’,” Roughshod said, sitting down at the table. “She can’t hang with the professionals.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s it…”

Kestrel rolled her eyes as she walked away from the table, leaving the stallions to their game. Instead, she only shook her head as she sat down with the rest of the mares by the fire, bottle of whiskey clutched between her feathers. “Stallions,” she said, taking a sip from the bottle. “They ain’t no different than big colts.”

“They’d be lost without us,” Miss Irons agreed, a half-empty bottle of beer by her hooves. “It’s a good thing you’re Tumbleweed’s right hoof, Kestrel. Celestia only knows this ragtag bunch would have fallen apart without a mare’s intuition to steer things along.”

“Was that a compliment?” Kestrel asked the older mare, chuckling. “I didn’t think you thought so highly of me, Miss Irons.”

“I didn’t say it was your intuition that kept things in line,” the elderly mare said, the corner of her lip curving upwards. After the four mares had a little laugh at that, the oldest turned her attention to Trixie, staring her down like a lion that had cornered a mouse. “So, Trixie Lulamoon, you’ve been with us for a while now. I feel it’s time we really got to know you.”

Trixie blinked and drew back in apprehension. “Umm… Trixie is feeling uncomfortable…”

“Why do you do that all the time?” Silver asked her, leaning forward with her wing crests pressed into the ground to prop herself up. Kestrel noted the silver mare had already finished most of a bottle of whiskey, and given that she was still on the mend from her wound in Rock Ridge, she probably shouldn’t have been drinking so much.

“It’s part of my persona!” Trixie said, obviously flustered. “Trixie can—I can stop it whenever I want to!”

“Seems like you struggle a bit with that, filly,” Miss Irons noted.

“I just do it so often it’s a hard habit to break!”

“Uh huh.” Kestrel snickered and plucked a bottle of whiskey out of the nearby crate. She tossed it to Trixie, who caught it in her magic before it hit the ground. “You ain’t been drinkin’ much tonight, Trixie. Take a drink every time you say your name. That’ll get you caught up with us.”

Trixie looked at the bottle, then back at Kestrel. “You can’t honestly think Trixie—!”

“Drink!” the three other mares hollered in unison, and then the laughter peeled out over the camp as Trixie huffed and tore the cork off with her teeth. Spitting it into the darkness, the magician stared into the bottle with a shudder, then raised it to her lips and took a gulp. She nearly dropped it outright when she started coughing, but thankfully she maintained her magical grip on it. Good thing, too—Kestrel figured she would have slapped the mare for spilling good whiskey all over the ground.

Grimacing and coughing, Trixie set the bottle safely off to the side. “Gahh… Tr—I don’t know how you can drink this stuff straight!”

“You get used to it after a while,” Silver said, swaying lightly from left to right. “Trust me, I sure did!”

“Get shot enough times, you’ll be glad for it,” Kestrel said, sipping on her bottle. “Comes with the job.”

“If ponies are shooting at Trixie, then something has already gone terribly wrong!” Trixie exclaimed. Too late, she realized she referred to herself in third pony again, and threw her head back in frustration. “Grrr… fuck!” she exclaimed, and the bottle went back to her lips yet again.

Kestrel guffawed as the magician struggled to down another sip of whiskey. “Oh, we’re gonna make an outlaw outta you yet.”

“First time I think I’ve heard her swear since we got her,” Miss Irons said. “She’s making progress.”

Trixie glared at the older mare. “I really don’t like you right now.”

“Why are you looking at me?” Miss Irons said, raising her hooves. “Kestrel’s the one that made that rule.”

Violet eyes sharply turned toward Kestrel. “You have made my life agony since you got me into this mess,” she grumbled.

“That’s just the booze speakin’,” Kestrel said, waving her wing. “Remember how much gold we got you from the train job? That’s more money than you seen in… how long have you been doin’ that stupid little magic show of yours?”

“It’s not stupid!” Trixie protested. After crossing her forelegs and huffing, she sheepishly backed down. “And… well, I’d be lucky if I made a hundred bits a month. All the small towns in the San Palomino have nothing to spare. I would have been better off working at towns like Hoofston!”

“So why weren’t you?” Silver asked. “Why go all the way out to Rock Ridge, then?”

“Because those little towns don’t have performer’s licenses and magic fees.” Trixie rolled her eyes in disgust. “I would go broke just trying to perform there, even if a hundred ponies watched my show a day! You have no idea how happy Trixie is that we’re robbing this place!”

Silver snickered and pointed at Trixie’s bottle. “You said it.”

“Gah!” Trixie angrily took a drink, and she lowered her horn in Silver’s direction. “I have a mind to shove this bottle so far up your tail you’ll never see it again!”

Silver blinked, her pupils shrinking as she realized she was talking to a unicorn who could very well have the ability to act on such a threat, and she covered her rear with her feathers. “Eeep!”

“No wonder Roughshod likes her,” Miss Irons said with a chuckle. “He must see a little of himself in her… if not now, then surely in the future.”

That made Kestrel spit out her drink. “Sorry, what?”

“Oh, you’ve been missing interesting things around the camp while you’ve been flying about lately,” Miss Irons said, smirking at Kestrel. “I heard Roughshod talking with—or I guess I should say to—Snapshot about who the prettiest mares in the Gang were. He mentioned our magician friend here quite a few times.”

Trixie’s cheeks were burning bright red by this point. “He wants to ride Trixie’s ring-dang-doo…” she murmured, as if she were talking to herself in shock.

Kestrel laughed, and laughed hard, at that. “Oh, for real? Oh… oh, that’s too great…”

Even Silver struggled to hide her laughter behind a wing. “I think you two’d make a great couple!” she said. “Maybe you can even do a magic trick and make his little stallion disappear!”

“Trixie is not… she couldn’t… he’s too…” For a moment, Kestrel worried that they’d broken the magician. Finally, after stammering for a few seconds, Trixie just took a few gulps from her whiskey bottle, then set it aside with a shudder. “You’re right, Kestrel,” she said. “I really am glad for this bottle right now…”

“That’s right, have some more!” Silver said encouragingly. “Maybe he won’t look so ugly once you finish that bottle!”

“That’s a tall task, even for a crate of whiskey,” Kestrel said, shaking her head and laughing.

Trixie simply stood up and began staggering away from the fire. “Trixie… needs to find a bush to do her business in… this is too much…”

Kestrel couldn’t help but cup her feathers around her mouth and shout after Trixie, “Take a drink!” and making the other two mares at the fire giggle. As quiet came over the fire once more, save for the laughter, shouting, and muttering coming from the cards table, Silver forced herself to stand on uneasy hooves.

“I’m gonna… look at the lake,” she said, swaying back and forth. “Bet the moon looks real pretty on it…”

Without even waiting for a response, the young mare staggered away, nearly tripping over her own hooves and falling into the fire. Kestrel watched her go, table moving listlessly from side to side as she struggled to find her balance, and shook her head. “She’s had enough to drink,” she said. “Least she didn’t snag another bottle to go with her.”

“True enough,” Miss Irons said. “Somepony’s probably gotta look after her, though. Don’t want her falling in the lake and getting hurt.”

Kestrel hummed her agreement, though her eyes remained locked on the fire for a few moments more. She was certainly feeling socially lubricated herself; maybe now would be the time to try and make amends with Silver after the whole hammock fiasco last night.

Or maybe not. She didn’t quite know, and all the whiskey she’d had so far was muddling her thoughts.

Kestrel is feeling Drunk and takes -2 to all abilities until she has taken time to rest.

Go after Silver and make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. One drunk mare on her own’s bad enough, and two ain’t much better, but it’s better at least, that’s for sure.

Talk with Miss Irons about working things out with Silver. I bet the experienced mare of the group’s got somethin’ that can help me out… Just hope whatever she says sticks now that my eyeballs are startin’ to swim…

Move to the poker table. Wonder what the guys are up to? Bet I could rib Roughshod a bunch about Trixie. That oughta throw him off his game some…

Crash for the night. Somepony else can take care of Silvie; I need to take care of myself and pass out ‘til mornin’.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 71

Talk with Miss Irons about working things out with Silver: 8 Votes

After a few minutes to try and work the words out in her head, Kestrel finally piped up, though her eyes never left the fire. “Say, Miss Irons? Can I ask you somethin’?”

“So long as it isn’t stupid,” the older mare scoffed.

“Well… I ain’t gonna make no guarantees ‘bout that.” Her wings fidgeted by her sides, seemingly impossible to get comfortable, and Kestrel shook her head. “It’s ‘bout Silvie.”

“Oh?” Miss Irons’ voice betrayed nothing, and when Kestrel looked at the other mare, her vision wavered and blurred from drink too much to read her expression.

“Yeah,” Kestrel said. Her hoof drew lines in the dirt. “I, uh… mighta overstepped my boundaries earlier with her. When we was alone.”

Miss Irons blinked in surprise. “You didn’t…?”

“Weren’t none of that,” Kestrel said, waving a wing. “Just a suggestion… a question… went pretty poorly.”

“Ah.” Miss Irons shook her head from side to side. “Ever the hopeless romantic, aren’t you, Kestrel?”

Kestrel pinched her shoulders together and tried to turn away to hide her blush. “A pony ain’t a pony without another to call special, right?”

“That doesn’t mean we should rush love,” Miss Irons said. “Me personally, I always saw the two of you like sisters. Ever since that young filly hopped onboard our little ragtag band of ne’er-do-wells, seemed like you were always giving her a wing to shelter under and a shoulder to lean on. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think she would have stayed with us outside of a week. She looks up to you, Kestrel. That’s not something to take for granted.”

“I… I know,” Kestrel said. “I just got some… stupid idea… maybe she thought differently of me, I…”

She shook her head. “I’m awful at words, I know you know that,” she said, looking at her elder. “I ain’t good at puzzlin’ these things out on my own. Do you know if… I mean, how she might feel…?”

Miss Irons knows if Silver has any attraction to Kestrel or not: Yes

Does Silver have a romantic attraction to Kestrel? No

“You ain’t gonna like what I have to say, then,” Miss Irons said, shaking her head. “I ain’t the only one who thinks the two of you are like sisters. Little Silver Wings does as well. Whenever she talks about you, her voice is filled with respect, Kessie, respect and admiration. There’s love there, too—the sisterly kind. Plenty of that. But you aren’t going to get farther than that with her.”

Kestrel’s wings sagged, and she felt a gut-wrenching clench in her chest… but it faded fast after that. Perhaps some part of her knew that all along. Maybe the alcohol just dulled the pain. Whatever it was, it left Kestrel feeling deflated, but at least thankful knowing that she had an answer.

“Well… shit,” was what she finally managed to say. “I… I hope I didn’t ruin nothin’ with her, then. I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I did…”

“When I was your age, I made the same mistakes you did,” Miss Irons said, offering her an encouraging smile. “Actually, I wouldn’t call them mistakes. I’d call them risks. And, sure, some of those risks didn’t pan out, and many stung pretty hard, but I never regretted taking them. The key to this sort of thing, Kestrel, is to know when to push ahead… and when to back off.”

The gunslinger dourly shook her head from side to side. “I feel like a mare of two extremes,” she said. “I’ve always been willin’ to push ahead in everythin’ I do. Anythin’ the Gang needs of me, I’ll give it to ‘em, and then I’ll give ‘em more. It’s been that way since the start. But when it comes to love… Tartarus, I ain’t do nothin’ ‘cept back off. Highball, Faith… now Silver, I just…”

Miss Irons leaned over and patted Kestrel on the back. “Don’t rush it,” she advised her. “I know it seems like we don’t have much time left on this planet. We’re spending our days running and running, knowing that we can’t run forever. But we just have to run far enough, Kestrel, and we’ll be fine. Once we get to that little heaven on this world where we don’t have to worry about the Law breathing down our necks, there will be plenty of time to figure things out. And then you can take all the time you need to find the pony that’ll make you happy for the rest of your life.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Kestrel said.

“Well… I have experience.” Miss Irons smiled warmly and looked over Kestrel’s shoulder to where the stallions played their cards. “I didn’t meet my soulmate until I joined the Gang. It took me sixty-some years, but I finally found him.” Her eyes alighted on Wanderer, laughing merrily with the other stallions as they shared jokes and talked trash with each other. “You’ll find the pony that’s right for you, Kessie. Just give it time.”

Then, standing up, Miss Irons smothered a yawn with her hoof and rolled her shoulders. “The night’s late enough as it is,” she said, shaking her head. “And I always was an early riser. Just because I’ve had some to drink tonight, it doesn’t mean that’s likely to change.” She raised an eyebrow at Kestrel. “Maybe you should get some rest, too.”

“I ain’t decided on what I’m gonna do,” Kestrel said, shrugging her wings. “Doubt I’ll be able to sleep for a little bit yet. Not after those words of wisdom.”

“I’m sorry,” Miss Irons said, giving the gunslinger a little shake of her head. “But I wanted to tell you straight. Trust me, it’ll save a lot of hurt later.” When Kestrel didn’t respond, Miss Irons nodded in understanding. “Goodnight, Kestrel.”

She walked away, leaving Kestrel to sit by herself in front of the fire. Her wing idly grasped at the whiskey bottle, and she considered drowning herself at the bottom of the bottle right there. Blacking out would at least get her to stop thinking about things for a while.

Her head lolled back and her eyes drifted up toward the starry night above. The moon was halfway across the sky; it probably had to be somewhere around midnight by now, but the stallions at their cards didn’t show any signs of slowing down. There were still plenty of things to do if she felt like doing them—but that was the question, wasn’t it?

Join the stallions at their game. A round of cards’ll get my mind off things, and a laugh shared with Tumbleweed and Wanderer is always good for the soul.

Go talk with Trixie. Looks like our magician’s back from doin’ her business, and she’s got a little stagger to her step. That whiskey did real good at sousing her up; maybe I can get somethin’ fun outta her.

Go find Silver. Silvie’s still at the lake, probably. Maybe I go there and try to bumble my way through an apology. Maybe I be a big idiot and try again despite what Miss Irons said. Who knows?

Finish off the bottle of whiskey and call it a night. That talk with Miss Irons left a sour taste in my mouth, and there’s only one way to flush that away. Drink, drink, drink, ‘til I can’t drink no more, and let tomorrow come what may.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 72

Join the stallions at their game: 7 Votes

Taking a few more gulps from her bottle of whiskey and staggering to her hooves, Kestrel decided to turn her attention to the cards table. A few hooves of cards would do her well, she supposed, and laughing with the stallions would be a good way to keep her mind off of the unfortunate truth Miss Irons had laid out for her. Besides, she always felt like she belonged more with the stallions than with the other mares. She was as tough as any of them, even Roughshod, and shooting the shit with them came more naturally to her than gossiping with the girls.

It took her some effort to cross the campsite without tripping over her hooves, and she held her wings out at her sides for balance, like a tightrope walker balancing with a pole held in their teeth. But when she did, she dragged a stool over to the table, set her bottle down by her side, and slapped her hoof against the wood. “Deal me in.”

“Perfect timin’,” Tumbleweed said, collecting the small pile of bits laid out in front of him while Roughshod cursed under his breath. “The rest of these fools were runnin’ outta pocket change. We needed somepony new to give a boost to the economy.”

“Keep that up, and soon we’re going to mistake you for a stock broker,” Wanderer said, taking the cards from Tumbleweed and dealing out the next hoof. Kestrel dug through her pockets and put out a small stack of bits in front of her, then flipped one in as the small blind. Snapshot put two in as the big blind, and then Wanderer dealt out the next hoof.

Kestrel slid her cards into her feathers and discreetly raised them up off the table, doing her best to keep her expression neutral. That of course was a difficult enough task, considering the sheer amount of whiskey she’d had so far had made her face feel numb. Her cards certainly weren’t much to build a winning hoof on, but she’d already put in a bit as the small blind, so she figured she might as well ride it out and see what the flop gave her.

Tumbleweed threw his two bits in to match Snapshot’s blind, and Roughshod did the same. Wanderer called his two bits as well, and Kestrel finished up with another bit to bring her to Snapshot’s blind. When nopony made any raises, he moved to the flop, flipping over three cards on the table. “So, Kessie,” he said, smirking out of the corner of his mouth at the gunslinger. “What’d you and the ladies talk about?”

“The usual lady things,” Kestrel said, checking the flop against her hand. After a moment to consider her chances, she folded her cards and leaned away from the table, and Snapshot shortly followed suit. “We made Trixie take a drink everytime she said her own name. Mare’s probably drunk as a skunk now that it’s had a chance to hit her.”

“Sure looks like it,” Tumbleweed said with a chuckle, angling his head off to the side. Kestrel followed his eyes just in time to see Trixie bump into the corner of her wagon as she tried to walk around it, lose her balance, and fall flailing to the ground. The stallions at the table couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and Trixie hurriedly scrambled back to her hooves at the laughter, glaring at them all before slipping into her wagon and shutting the door behind her.

Tumbleweed, Roughshod, and Wanderer traded bets for a few minutes as Kestrel dug into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. A match struck off her horseshoe sparked to life, and moments later her lungs tingled with the burn of tobacco smoke. She watched Wanderer claim victory over the other two with a straight flush, easily putting Tumbleweed’s full house and Roughshod’s two pairs to rest, and pull the bits over toward his growing pile. “Keep playing aggressive like that, Rough, and you aren’t going to have anything left in a few more hooves.”

All players roll Luck to compete at cards:

First Hoof:

Kestrel: 8

Tumbleweed: 12

Roughshod: 8

Snapshot: 8

Wanderer: 14

Wanderer wins the first hoof.

“Bah! The cards ain’t bein’ good to me tonight,” he grumbled, crossing his forelegs. “Shit’d work better if I could get a little luck on my side for once.”

“Even if you had luck, you’d waste it,” Snapshot dryly remarked, the slight curve to his lips hidden behind the beer bottle he brought to his mouth. “Never patient.”

“Ah, eat tar, Snapshot.” Roughshod rolled his eyes and glared at the deck of cards as Wanderer shuffled them back together and passed it to Kestrel. “This time I’ll get somethin’ good. I’m feelin’ it.”

“Keep sayin’ it and it’s likely to come true,” Tumbleweed said, patronizing the stallion. “I’m sure it’ll work just like the last ten times.”

“Shut up. You just mark the cards or somethin’. This deck’s so old, all the cards got creases in ‘em.”

“Maybe you can go into town and buy a few new packs,” Kestrel said as she dealt out everypony’s hooves. “That is, if you even have any pocket change left after we’re done tonight.”

“I’m about to win it all back,” Roughshod said. “Just you see.”

“Uh-huh.”

The five outlaws played through their hands, sharing little quips and banter all the while. Kestrel’s own hoof was pretty terrible, truth be told, but she wondered if she’d be able to bluff her way through it. She thought she was on the verge of having a breakthrough when the flop gave her two pair, but the next two cards instead gave Snapshot four of a kind when she flipped over two 7s. After going all in, Roughshod could only watch as his meager remaining reserve of bits went to the stoic stallion, and he slammed down what was left of his beer and stumbled to his hooves. “Screw this,” he grumbled, trying to blink away the exhaustion clawing at his eyes. “I’ve had enough. I’m gonna get some rest.”

All players roll Luck to compete at cards:

Second Hoof:

Kestrel: 7

Tumbleweed: 7

Roughshod: 9

Snapshot: 13

Wanderer: 10

Snapshot wins the second hoof.

“You do that,” Kestrel called out, sending the cards along to Snapshot, who rapidly shuffled them in his magic. When the big stallion was out of earshot, she lowered her voice and leaned in closer to the rest of the stallions still at the table. “Miss Irons said he’s taken a likin’ to Trixie.”

Tumbleweed let out a guffaw and slapped the table. “Truly?”

“If it comes from her mouth, I’d believe it,” Wanderer said, shaking his head from side to side. “That mare’s got a way of uncovering the truth of the matter. Did she tell Trixie?”

“You know she did,” Kestrel said, chuckling. “Oh, these next few days are gonna be fun, I tell you what.”

“Maybe we can arrange something,” Snapshot said. “I think they’re a perfect match for each other.”

Wanderer snickered. “You really think that?”

“Roughshod doesn’t talk like himself when he talks about her,” Snapshot affirmed. “He must be smitten.”

Tumbleweed’s eyebrows raised. “He told you that he liked her?”

“I don’t talk much,” Snapshot simply observed.

“Well, I think we can all agree on that,” Kestrel said, putting her feathers down on the table as Snapshot dealt out the third hoof and snatching her cards away. An ace and a queen greeted her, and she tried not to betray her good hoof as everypony threw in their bets. “You got anything else good that ponies been tellin’ you?”

Snapshot shrugged. “Depends on what you consider good.”

“Like… juicy gossip and the like.”

The stallion didn’t comment on that, instead raising the ante.

“Snapshot’s only gonna talk if somepony else finds out what he knows first,” Tumbleweed observed. “That’s why ponies tell him things.”

“Kestrel doesn’t,” Snapshot stated.

Kestrel felt a little blush forming on her cheeks, and she rubbed the back of her neck with a hoof. “Yeah… I don’t find the time to talk with ya much. Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Wanderer asked. “You know Snap’s favorite conversations are the ones he doesn’t have to have.”

From across the table, Snapshot bobbed his head ever so slightly.

As the rest of the players threw in their bets and raised their antes, Kestrel looked up to see Silver Wings stumbling across the campsite, obviously in search of her bed. Only, her mane was plastered to the side of her face with mud, and her tail and wings dripped water as she sought out the warmth of the campfire to dry herself off. Kestrel couldn’t suppress a snort as the bedraggled mare fanned her feathers to dry them out, and she raised her voice as she tossed in more bits. “What’s a matter, Silvie? Go for a late night swim?”

“Shut up,” Silver grumbled, trying to shake the lake water out of her coat. “It’s slippery down there!”

Tumbleweed and Wanderer shared a wheezing laugh, while Snapshot just shook his head. Kestrel was just glad that nothing bad had befallen Silver during her lake exclusion, sudden bath excluded.

And in the end, she was plenty pleased with the outcome from that hoof of poker. The cards lined up in her favor, and after several times of calling Wanderer’s bluff, she eventually outmuscled his three of a kind with a royal flush. At that, the other stallions shook their heads, tossed their cards into the middle, and took a few more drinks before standing up.

All players roll Luck to compete at cards:

Kestrel: 13

Tumbleweed: 7

Snapshot: 7

Wanderer: 10

Kestrel wins the third hoof.

“Done already?” Kestrel asked them as they started to leave. “I just started winnin’!”

“We been at it for a while now,” Wanderer said. “And these old bones need their rest. It must be well after midnight by now.”

Kestrel couldn’t deny that she wasn’t feeling tired as well, so she finished off her bottle of whiskey and tossed her cards into the pile as well. At least she broke even again on that last hoof, maybe even made a few bits. She was too drunk to count them now, though; the world swam around her, and her vision was annoyingly blurry. As everypony said their goodnights, Kestrel too stood up and began to bumble her way over to her lean-to.

She hadn’t even closed her eyes for a second before she passed out, awkwardly sprawled out on her bedroll, her limbs splayed in every which way.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 73

Kestrel is no longer Drunk.

When Kestrel woke up the following morning, she wished that she hadn’t.

The first thing to greet her was the feeling of somepony smashing her head against the ground with a stone. Groaning, the outlaw rolled off of her sleeping mat, hooves clutching her temples, lips parted in a grimace. One of her wings felt tingly and numb, deprived of sensation after a night sleeping awkwardly on it, and her tongue was fuzzy and dry. When she barely cracked crusty eyelids apart, the sunlight of the late morning drove through her eye sockets with chisels of fire, leaving her whimpering and covering her face.

“Grrrmmmfff… shoulda drank more damn water last night…”

After a few minutes to keep her eyes shut and let the pounding in her head subside, and after those few minutes turned into half an hour, Kestrel finally scrounged up the energy to roll out from under her lean-to and stand up on shaky legs. It took her all of twenty seconds to manage to stand upright, and when she did, she yawned, arched her back, and flapped her wings to work some of the tired numbness out of them. Satisfied that she got the blood flowing to her limbs again, Kestrel slowly limped her way toward the wash bucket by the chuck wagon to splash some of the sleep and hangover out of her eyes.

The camp was dull and dead after a night of fervent drinking. The only ponies Kestrel saw up and active at this point were Miss Irons, Trixie, and Snapshot, who were busy making brunch for the hungover late-sleepers like Kestrel. When she swiveled her head around camp, she saw Roughshod still snoring away, back against a tree, and Silver Wings sprawled in the grass, mouth slightly agape and drooling onto the leaves. Kestrel shook her head and continued limping toward the lakeshore. It seemed the two of them didn’t manage to make it back to their bedrolls before they passed out last night.

“There she is,” Miss Irons called out as Kestrel walked past them. Her eyebrow raised as the gunslinger staggered toward the lake beyond the camp. “Sleep well, Kessie?”

“Weren’t so much sleepin’ as it were practicin’ for death,” Kestrel muttered back, flicking her tail as she passed. “Celestia, I wish I was dead right ‘bout now…”

Kestrel pushed aside the reeds near the lakeshore to get access to the water, and immediately dunked her muzzle into the cool waters and began to drink. It took her several gulps to slake her thirst, and only then did she raise her head back upright, water streaming off the end of her muzzle. Sure, it probably wasn’t the healthiest or safest water to drink, but it sure beat waiting for the others to boil more water for the camp. And when all was said and done, she certainly felt livelier.

Her eyes glided across the far shores of the lake, noting how still the water was until the ripples from her thirst began to disturb the mirror. A few ducks and a couple of geese floated on the surface, lounging under the shade of a tree, and to her left, the splash of a fish leaping out of the water to catch a dragonfly caught her attention. Bullfrogs croaked as the humid heat began to build with the coming of the afternoon, and all was peaceful around this little slice of the natural world, all but untouched by ponies.

Of course, the signs of equine activity were all to apparent if she just looked to the right slightly, where the mud was all torn up and dotted with hoofprints from Silvie’s slip and tumble last night. Kestrel could only shake her head and chuckle. She probably shouldn’t have left Silver be on her lonesome last night, but there wasn’t any harm done in it. Maybe when Silver was awake and coherent again she’d bust her chops over it.

Returning to the camp, Kestrel pulled over a stool and sat down next to Trixie, the smoke from the fire at least pushing away some of the humidity and drying out the air around it. Trixie merely looked Kestrel up and down before sniffing and shaking her head. “Your snoring kept Trixie awake almost all night.”

Kestrel blinked in surprise. “My snorin’? What about Roughshod?” She pointed her feathers at the stallion in question. “He’s loud enough to drown out a whole cavalry charge.”

“You would not believe what you sound like, then,” Trixie said. The magician cracked a couple of eggs in a pan and held it over the fire with her magic, her horn faintly sparkling all the while. “Just how much did you have to drink?”

“I weren’t keepin’ track,” Kestrel said, shrugging. “Plenty enough, I suppose.”

“Quite.”

After a moment, Kestrel turned to Snapshot and raised an eyebrow. “Did you even sleep last night, Snapshot? I can’t ever tell if you do.”

“For a time,” came Snapshot’s simple answer.

“‘For a time’, he says. What’s that’s supposed to mean?” When the stallion didn’t answer, Kestrel gestured vaguely in the direction of the half-emptied crates of whiskey and beer. “Did you even drink much last night?”

“I did,” Snapshot said with a curt nod. “Not as much as you.”

“I’d be surprised if anypony drank more than me other than Rough and Silvie,” Kestrel said. Her wingtips dug through her pockets and retrieved a cigarette and a match, and in short order she was adding her own smoke to the campfire. “Well, glad everypony had a good time, at least.”

“Some more than others,” Miss Irons observed.

“So long as everypony had their fun, then all’s well in the world.” Tumbleweed’s voice reaching them from across the camp drew their attention toward him, and soon the unicorn found a seat across from Kestrel and covered a yawn with his hoof. “I know I certainly had mine. It was a nice change of pace from the hassle we’ve been dealin’ with these past few weeks.”

“It’s good to let our hair down every once in a while,” Miss Irons agreed. “It keeps you young.”

Everypony shared a light chuckle at that. “Word of our elders, folks, right there,” Tumbleweed said. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of cooking eggs, and hummed his pleasure. “And a good brunch to chase away any lingering hangovers. What more could a pony ask for?”

“A few things,” Kestrel said, crossing her forelegs and leaning forward. After a moment, she added, “Now it’s onto the next thing.”

“The convention.” Tumbleweed nodded. “We have a few days before we go meet with Starlight again, see what she’s dug up for us. I say today we take it easy, rest and recover, but then we need to start preparin’ for this next score. It ain’t gonna be easy with all the attention Starlight wants surroundin’ it. Best to be prepared.”

“We can use the time to practice and work out a plan,” Kestrel said. “We’re gonna need to be coordinated to make this work. This ain’t gonna be a bank robbery in no podunk town.”

“Exactly.” Tumbleweed pulled out a cigar and lit it off the fire as Kestrel flicked the butt of her cigarette into the flames. He took a few puffs on it, filling the air with smoke, and nodded toward Kestrel. “So, Kessie… what do you think we should focus on?”

The Gang has a few days to prepare for the next score. They can use this time to temporarily improve an ability by +1 during the job, to a maximum of 9.

Healthiness

Gunslinger

Muscle

Sweet Talker

Scholar

Instincts

Lady Luck

Let everypony prepare in their own way (NOTE: Some ponies may not prepare effectively for the heist.)

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 74

Luck: 4 Votes

“You believe in Lady Luck, boss?” Kestrel asked Tumbleweed, raising an eyebrow.

Tumbleweed shrugged. “It sure seems like there’s some cruel mistress up there that likes to stick her hoof in our plans from time to time.”

“Then we better work on appeasing her.” Kestrel yawned and rubbed at her eyes. “I’ll be doin’ whatever good luck habits I can think of between now and Friday. Somethin’ tells me we’re gonna need it.”

Trixie scoffed at that. “There’s no such thing as good or bad luck,” she said, pulling the pan out of the fire and dumping the eggs onto a tin plate, which she passed to Kestrel. “Trixie says it’s always better to be good than to be lucky, anyhow.”

“Sometimes good don’t cut it,” Kestrel retorted. “I’m one of our best shots—”

“Second best,” Snapshot interrupted, a tiny turn pulling on the corner of his lips.

The mare rolled her eyes. “—one of our best shots, and it certainly felt like I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn at times back in Rock Ridge. Some fool filly in the heavens above was messin’ with me, I just know it.”

“But you got hurt badly during the train robbery and didn’t die,” Trixie observed. “As much bad luck as you think you had, you also had good luck. Which is why there isn’t anything as luck at all.” The magician confidently smirked at Kestrel. “Sometimes bad things happen, and sometimes good things happen. That’s just how it goes.”

“Ain’t that what we call ‘luck’, Trixie?” Tumbleweed asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, luck is the name of a thing, but that thing doesn’t exist. There’s just coincidences—”

Kestrel spread out her wings, trying to put a stop to the brewing argument before it got any worse. “Okay, you two, I get it. Just… just do whatever makes you feel best about our chances goin’ into this thing on Friday, okay? I just want to have it go off without too many problems. We can’t afford to take more hits to the team after how Rock Ridge went down.”

“Especially not with the kind of stunt Starlight wants to pull.” Tumbleweed shook his head. “Hopefully the payoff’s gonna be worth it.”

“We’ll just have to see what she has to say on Wednesday,” Kestrel said. “Hopefully she’s figured somethin’ out by then.”

“I never expected we’d be getting political,” Miss Irons commented from the other side of the fire, an amused slant decorating her muzzle. “Are we freedom fighters now?”

“If you’re talkin’ ‘bout freein’ bits from the Apple Conglomerates, then sure. But we ain’t runnin’ for office or nothin’.” Tumbleweed used his magic to start cooking his own eggs over the fire, the grease crackling in the pan. “She’s a talented mage, though. She could tell at a glance that our illusions were just that.”

Trixie coughed, pounding her chest as she nearly choked on her eggs. “I-Impossible,” she hacked out, grimacing and clearing her throat. “Trixie is the greatest and most powerful unicorn in Equestria!”

“Yeah, well that’s twice now your illusions ain’t stood up under closer inspection,” Kestrel said. “First that Rattlesnake pony saw I weren’t Sienna, then Starlight could tell we were in disguise right away. Said your illusions were sloppy.”

“Sloppy? Sloppy?!” Trixie harrumphed and abruptly stood up, frowning at what was left of her breakfast before chucking it into the fire. “Trixie is not sloppy! That little… wait until Trixie shows her real magic!” She started storming off, only to stop and look forlornly back at the fire. “Oh… Trixie actually wasn’t finished with her breakfast…”

“Go make yourself a new one, then,” Miss Irons said, gesturing to the chuck wagon. “We stocked up plenty good when we were in town. Enjoy the bounty while we’ve got it; who knows when we might have to go fleeing somewhere and we lose our supplies in the process.”

The magician paled at that. “Has that happened before?”

“Several times,” Tumbleweed said, tossing his eggs onto his plate and digging in. “Never know when you’ve gotta run at the drop of a hat.”

“Aw, you’re worryin’ the poor filly,” Kestrel said with a shake of her head. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, Trixie. Not yet at least. Come Friday, that might be a different story, but we’re fine for now.”

Trixie chewed on her lip for a solid five seconds before turning around and walking off toward the supply wagon. “Every day, Trixie wonders whether she made a colossal mistake…”

“Oh, don’t doubt that for a second,” Tumbleweed said, chuckling. “You definitely did, sure as the sun does shine. But stick with us, and if we get through to the other side, we’ll have more gold than you can dream of, and nopony to tell us what we can or can’t do with it. It’s the dream, missy, it’s the dream. And every day, we get a little bit closer.”

“And the Law gets a little closer to us,” Miss Irons said, her usual passive frown settling onto her muzzle.

“There’s the old mare I know and love so dearly,” Tumbleweed said. “Where would we ever be without your optimism?”

“Dead in a ditch, I’m sure.” Miss Irons stood up and began trotting to the other side of the camp. “You lot got too much alcohol into Wanderer last night, I swear. Now I need to rouse his sorry flank out of bed…”

“Ain’t nothin’ he didn’t do to himself,” Kestrel observed as she left. Then, finishing off the rest of her plate, she chucked it aside and leaned back. “Guess we’re just waitin’ on Wednesday then, right?”

“More or less,” Tumbleweed said. “It’s a waitin’ game now. So long as we don’t get found out before then.”

“It’s the danger of hangin’ around one spot for too long,” Kestrel agreed.

The unicorn across from her nodded. “We don’t want to get too complacent, either. Lotta things can happen if we ain’t payin’ attention.”

“I know that,” Kestrel said. “I been doin’ this long as you been, remember? It weren’t like the two of us formed this damn gang in the first place…” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

“Then how do we want to go about it?” Tumbleweed asked. “We’ve got a pretty good place to lie low here and make sure we don’t start any more trouble for ourselves. But I don’t want to be walkin’ into this thing blind if the situation changes.”

Frowning, Kestrel tapped her hoof to her chin in thought.

The Gang will work on temporarily increasing their Luck scores by +1 in preparation for the convention robbery on Friday.

Lie low. We make as little noise as possible, we ain’t gonna have to deal with the Law none. We got the supplies to last us well until Friday, and the only time we should be leavin’ the camp is to meet with Starlight on Wednesday. [Very low chance of increasing Law Attention, no chance of identifying changes in the situation in Hoofston.]

Keep an eye on things from afar. We don’t have to be right in the thick of things at Hoofston to get a sense of what’s happenin’. Silvie and me can take turns scoutin’ things out from above, and the rest of the Gang can keep an eye toward the roads. [Low chance of increasing Law Attention, low chance of identifying changes in the situation in Hoofston.]

Stay active. We need to keep ponies in Hoofston and its surroundings, keepin’ their ears open for new developments. Information like that is worth a little risk of somepony recognizin’ us, even with Trixie’s passable illusions. [Moderate chance of increasing Law Attention, high chance of identifying changes in the situation in Hoofston.]

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 75

Stay active: 11 Votes

“We stay active, and we stay alert,” Kestrel said, decisively bobbing her head. “Ain’t no sense in hidin’ out in our camp only to just get bit in the ass when we get jumped by Pinks during the job. Better to know things now and get outta a mess before it starts than to walk right into it later.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Tumbleweed agreed. “Today, we’ll start takin’ turns goin’ into the city and keepin’ an eye on things. We get Trixie to put illusions on our scouts, we’ll have a better chance of goin’ in and out without bein’ noticed.”

“Unless we cross paths with another mage,” Kestrel said. “Her magic ain’t good enough to stand up to their eyes.”

“Not unless we keep our distance. And the Pinks, well, they probably have mages, but they ain’t gonna be very subtle about moving around. We should see ‘em before they even have a chance to scrutinize us up close.”

“Hopefully.” Kestrel looked out over the camp as the rest of the Gang began to stir, staggering out of their sleeping places and clutching their heads. Even the sight of their hooves against their temples made her own hangover resume its dull throbbing, forgotten in the midst of food and conversation. “Err… maybe we shouldn’t venture out today,” she said, wincing. “I doubt any of us’ll be in fit shape for spyin’ ‘round town…”

Tumbleweed chuckled at that and massaged around the base of his horn. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Reckon it’s best holdin’ off a day, give everypony some time to feel better. We got time before Wednesday.”

“Exactly.” Grunting, Kestrel stood up and momentarily closed her eyes as the blood rushed through her head, pinching the bridge of her nose with her wingtip to try and cope with the pressure. “Celestia’s fiery fanny… I ain’t as young as I used to be. I never used to get hangovers after a night of drinkin’.”

“Remember that night in that one town… what was it, Ponytown? Horseville? The one just outside of Canterlot.” Tumbleweed shrugged. “We tore that place up when it was just you and me. Easily the most far gone I think we ever been.”

“Only thing I remember is you settin’ fire to that tree library with a match,” Kestrel said, snickering and shaking her head. “The rest of the night’s pretty blank.”

“I figured it was about time we’d added arson to our list of crimes, right? I think we were tryin’ to check off a list or somethin’ stupid like that.”

Snapshot slowly shook his head. “Glad to see that you two have matured since then.”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed exchanged impish looks. “Ain’t by much,” Kestrel said. “But I suppose somepony’s gotta be the parents of ya’ll.”

“That’s why we have Miss Irons,” Tumbleweed said. “I’d say Wanderer too, but he ain’t much better.”

The two gunslingers laughed (while Snapshot watched as impassive as ever), before Kestrel winced and flattened her ears against her skull. “Okay… ow. Still hungover. I think I’m gonna take a nap under a tree. Sleep off what I’ve still got in my system…”

“You won’t find me too far behind you,” Tumbleweed said. “Grab some water while you’re at it.”

“Way ahead of you…” And the seasoned outlaw shambled away from the campfire in search of a shaded spot to curl up and die in.

Kestrel leaned against the bar in a saloon near the industrial heart of Hoofston, her dress itching away at her wings under her disguise. She much rather would have been flying high above the city, rising on the thermals and wheeling away from the smoky clouds hovering over the factories, but it was much harder to keep track of what was happening in the city from above. Hence, the need for the disguise and hooves on the ground.

Is the Gang able to identify any changes in Hoofston? Yes

Does the situation in Hoofston change? Yes

The Gang had spent two days observing the situation in Hoofston, all under disguises provided by Trixie. All throughout the weekend, trains full of wealthy business owners and investors had filed into the station, raising the per capita wealth of the southern town by a substantial margin with their mere presence. Roughshod had suggested robbing a few trains just outside of the city and cleaning out the wealthy passengers as a sort of appetizer to the conference, but Tumbleweed had decided against it. The grand finale of the conference was their target, and moving too soon could jeopardize the whole plan.

Kestrel, meanwhile, had frequented the saloons and bars near the factories to eavesdrop on the conversations of the workers. If anypony had an idea of what might be going on at the conference, it would be the ponies that worked under the fat cats setting it up. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to glean anything more about what was going to be the grand finale. She hoped Starlight would be able to learn more about that, because she kept striking out whenever she tried.

As she loitered in the saloon today, however, she did hear two workers talking about the most recent train that had arrived. The conference had just kicked off early that morning, and a train from Manehattan had arrived with several members of the wealthy Apple Family onboard. Not only that, but they’d brought their own security. The workers didn’t say who they were, only that they were professionals hired solely for the event. That unnerved Kestrel—volunteers and police were one thing, but professional security was another. Volunteers often ran when the shooting started, and police tried to uphold the law and arrest rather than kill. Professional security was often too well trained to run and didn’t care if they had to shoot a pony dead to keep their contract.

As she began to get set to leave, however, the door to the saloon opened, tinkling the bell hung over the corner. Kestrel glanced lazily in that direction, only for her eyes to immediately narrow. Two ponies walked in through the open door, both wearing blazing pink suits and bowler hats with a shiny star pinned above the brim. They were armed as well, with one carrying a repeater across her back, and her companion carrying a shotgun on hers. Both carried revolvers in shoulder holsters, the glistening steel like a metal carnation tucked over their lapels.

Kestrel inwardly cursed and turned away. The Pinks. Of course. If the Apple Family worried that something might ruin their conference, why not hire Equestria’s premiere professional bounty hunters and security agency to keep things running smoothly? It wasn’t like they were lacking in money to afford them.

Instead of leaving the bar immediately, Kestrel began to count down in her head. Leaving as soon as they entered would be suspicious, and two professional bounty hunters would recognize that immediately. She’d wait until they got their drinks and had struck up another conversation with the ponies around them before slipping on out of the saloon.

Unfortunately, the two mares in pink suits chose the opening in the bar by Kestrel to order their drinks. “Two whiskeys,” the cream-colored earth pony said, nodding to the bartender. The pony behind the bar glanced in their direction, blinked once in surprise, then nodded and reached for the whiskey. Kestrel forced down the urge to bolt as the earth pony shifted closer to her to make room for the mint green unicorn to sidle up to the bar, and she felt her wings pinching tight against her sides under her dress. Though the saloon hadn’t exactly become hushed when the two Pinks entered, there was definitely a tension building in the air. That tension left Kestrel’s tail flicking nervously as she waited for her opportunity to leave.

Yet before she could, the earth pony glanced at her, furrowed her brow, and angled in her direction. “Actually,” she said, waving back to the bartender. “Make it three.”

Does the Gang have any trouble with the Law in Hoofston? Critical Yes

Kestrel blinked in surprise. “I-I—no, sorry, ma’am, I was just gettin’ set to leave.”

“Oh, come on. Just one more shot. You look like a mare who needs it.” She turned to her companion. “Don’t you think so, Lyra?”

The green unicorn, Lyra, turned her attention from right to left, her golden eyes looking Kestrel up and down. “I’d say so, Bon Bon.” She leaned in a little closer, a ripple of magic running up the length of her horn before fizzling out. “What kind of makeup do you use? I need to get some of that.”

The outlaw nervously chuckled. “Oh, it ain’t nothin’ at all. It’s my natural look.”

“Your natural look is better than mine, then,” Bon Bon said. She glanced aside as the bartender returned with three whiskeys, and she pushed one in front of Kestrel. “Detectives Bon Bon and Lyra,” she said, nodding to Kestrel. “We’re part of the Pinkie Pie Detective Agency.” She held out a hoof, awaiting a response.

Kestrel did her best to shake it without letting her own hoof tremble as adrenaline began to seep into her blood. “Thistle,” she said, falling back on the alias she’d taken the first time venturing into Hoofston. It was a new name, so at least that didn’t mean the Pinks would have much to go off of.

“Well, Thistle, care to answer a few of our questions?” Bon Bon and Lyra glanced at each other, and Kestrel thought she saw the tiniest hint of a nod between them. “It won’t take very long, I promise.”

Play along. Maybe they don’t know who I am yet. I think they got a hunch, that much seems obvious, but maybe not. Talkin’ my way out is my best bet.

Flee. I got a drink in my hoof I might be able to toss into this first Pink’s eyes. That aughta get me some time to dash for the door or a window ‘fore her friend can react. Hope she don’t know no good spells, though…

Fight. This dress ain’t gonna be very helpful, but I got my revolvers just underneath it, restin’ by my wings. If I can loosen the thing up a bit first, I can draw and put bullets in each of ‘em ‘fore they can get their weapons on me, especially the earth pony.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 76

Play Along: 15 Votes

Kestrel’s eyes quickly scanned the room. Running wasn’t much of an option; she doubted she’d get very far before the unicorn grabbed her in telekinesis. Fighting was always a possibility, but she’d have to dig her weapons out from under her dress, and that wasn’t much of a choice. No matter how she tried to spin it, she was trapped, and the only way out was going through the Pinks. Hopefully they’d let her by.

If not, at least the Gang could say she went down swinging.

She swallowed and shyly angled her head away. “I-I don’t know, I really do need to be goin’, ma’am. I was just gettin’ set on my way out as you was comin’ in.”

“It’ll just be easier for us all since we’re right here to do this now, rather than us having to track you down later.” Bon Bon exchanged a look with Lyra, and the mint green unicorn hopped off of her stool and casually put herself between Kestrel and the door. “It’s just a few questions, that’s it.”

After a moment to appreciate just how screwed she was, Kestrel finally relented and nodded. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

“Just a few simple things.” Bon Bon likewise got off of her stool and gestured toward and empty booth nearby. “Let’s talk some in private.”

There wasn’t much Kestrel could do except comply. She made sure to at least grab the tumbler of whiskey as she went, though. If this was going to be the end of her, then she’d at least appreciate the free drink.

The three mares made their way to the booth, and Bon Bon gestured for Kestrel to sit down. She did so, sliding across one of the benches, while Bon Bon and Lyra sat down in the other. The earth pony took her repeater off her back and rested it against the wall in the corner of their booth, while Lyra placed hers on the table, the barrel pointed only just slightly away from Kestrel’s chest. She eyed it for a moment, noting that the unicorn had pulled the hammer back before setting it down. All it would take was a twitch, a mere thought, and Kestrel knew her guts would be painting the booth red before she could so much as lift a feather.

They know, she thought. It was the only reason why the two Pinks would take such precautious with a random mare at a bar.

“Now then,” Bon Bon said, picking up her tumbler glass in a dexterous hoof and bringing it to her lips. “You said your name was…?”

“Thistle. Ma’am,” Kestrel said, keeping a close eye on the expressions of the two mares sitting across from her. If it looked like she was about to go down in flames, then she needed to be ready to act and see if there was something to salvage from the whole ordeal.

“Thistle. Well, thank you for taking some time to talk with us, Thistle.” Bon Bon set her whiskey tumbler down, the glass already half-emptied. The Pink pulled a cigarette out from inside her jacket and offered it to Kestrel, who refused as politely as she could. Shrugging, Bon Bon lit the end and stuck it in her mouth, the acrid stench of burning tobacco soon filling the booth. “So, Thistle. Have you see anything odd lately?”

Kestrel feigned confusion and cocked her head to the side. “Odd? Odd how?”

She noticed that Lyra had pulled out a pencil and pad of paper. Somehow, the scratch of graphite over paper stood out above the din of the bar, and it irritated her like an itch in her ear. Bon Bon, for her part, didn’t change her expression or posture. “Well, we had it on good authority that there was some… outlaw trouble in the south. A group of fugitives we were chasing crossed the San Palomino a while back. Now, we thought for sure they died crossing the desert, but then this little town of Rock Ridge practically went down in flames overnight. A military train was robbed, a gang war broke out, and one of the officers on that train said that the two mares who robbed it were exactly who we were looking for. So it turns out they didn’t die after all.” The end of the cigarette flared red as Bon Bon took a breath, and her eyebrow crawled up her forehead. “You happen to hear anything about that?”

The outlaw-in-disguise very quickly shook her head. “No, I ain’t heard nothin’ ‘bout that. Are they still out there?”

“We think they came to Hoofston after they fought off a wing of cavalryponies,” Bon Bon said. “A few travelers we talked to around Rock Ridge said they’d seen ponies resembling them heading east out of the town, toward this city. They’re probably camped somewhere around here, waiting to make a move. Hoofston is a big city after all, filled with opportunities. Especially since the Apple Family is holding their big convention. That might be the kind of thing to draw out a gang of murderers and thieves.”

“It’s why Miss Applejack hired a few of us for extra security,” Lyra said, only to be silenced with a stern look from Bon Bon. The unicorn smiled apologetically, and the pencil scribbled across the paper once again. “Uh… yeah. Don’t worry about what I said.”

Kestrel took the opportunity to put the tumbler of whiskey to her lips and toss her head back. She drained the glass in one gulp, momentarily grimacing as the fire of alcohol raced its way down her throat. “Is that all?” she asked, wings anxiously twitching at her sides beneath her dress. “I do have to get back to my husband. He should be gettin’ offa his shift at the factory soon.”

“Almost,” Bon Bon said, and she nudged Lyra’s foreleg with an elbow. “We just have one more question to ask you…”

Lyra’s horn flared up, and a flash momentarily blinded Kestrel. She put her hooves to her eyes, waiting for the bright light burned into her retinas to disappear. When it finally did, she pulled her hooves away, only to freeze in shock when she saw her natural brown on them, not the green of her disguise. Gray locks of mane danced at the corners of her vision, not white, and her muzzle took on its usual shape once again, the contours no longer tweaked by Trixie’s illusion.

Kestrel uses Sweet Talker (4) to lie to the Pinks: Fail

She also noticed that Lyra had picked up the shotgun and had the end of the barrel pointed squarely at her nose. When Kestrel crossed her eyes, she could see the red cartridge loaded at the bottom of the barrel. One squeeze of the trigger, and a hundred little lead balls would come flying out of that steel tube. There wouldn’t be much left of her face to identify her after that.

“Miss Kestrel,” Bon Bon purred, crossing her forelegs and smugly smirking at Kestrel. “I thought I recognized your voice under that disguise. That is some lovely makeup you had, I have to say. Though I think your real natural look, the one I see on all those posters, is much more charming.

Kestrel clenched her jaw tight. “Glad to hear you think so,” she said, staring down the Pink. Every instinct in her body told her to flee, but she knew better than to listen to them right now. So much as a twitch would have her eating lead, and while she may have been a quick draw, she definitely wasn’t fast enough to beat that shotgun. “How’d you know it was me?”

“I felt something,” Lyra said. “That illusion you had? Really poor work. I could sense it almost as soon as we walked inside. You just gotta know what to look for, and it’ll pop right now.” She winked at Kestrel. “It comes with years on the job. It might have fooled other ponies, but not me.”

“Then I guess I shoulda found a better magician.” Her eyes slid over to Bon Bon. “So, Pink, when’re you takin’ me up to the gallows?”

“Now, who said anything about that?” Bon Bon smiled, and Lyra lowered the shotgun, though she still kept it in her magical grip, ready to be fired at a moment’s notice. Then the earth pony leaned in closer. “Let me put it to you this way, Kestrel. Killing one of you isn’t going to do us much good. Sure, it’ll be one fewer outlaw for Equestria to deal with, but all it’s going to do is delay the problem. It’ll send the rest of your friends into hiding, and this can will get kicked a few years down the road. But it won’t end.”

She lounged back in her seat and finished off the rest of her whiskey. “I’d rather cut a deal and save us all some really hard work. Tit for tat, if you will. It’s rather generous, I might add.”

“A deal?” Kestrel’s eyebrow raised. “Why should I accept a deal from you? Outlaws, we have honor, but the Law ain’t what I’d call honest. Doubly so for trumped up bounty hunters like yourselves.”

“I’d say taking an easy out is much better than taking a short fall from a long rope.”

“At least the rope gets it done and over with in a heartbeat.”

Bon Bon frowned at her. “I’ll leave you with our offer, Kestrel. We don’t want just one of your gang. We want your whole damn gang. And if you turn them over to us, you’ll get a royal pardon. You’ll be free to live out the rest of your natural days as a farmer or a ranchhoof or whatever strikes your fancy, so long as you remain a good law-abiding citizen. An ample reward for doing your part to clean up the lawlessness of the Equestrian south.”

As she said those words, she pulled out an envelope from inside her jacket and placed it on the table in front of Kestrel. Kestrel didn’t dare reach over and touch it, but she picked it apart with her eyes. It’d been crumpled and stained from travel, but the unmistakable seal of the Princess Celestia held the letter together, stamped in vibrant, golden wax. If nothing else, she knew that Bon Bon couldn’t be bluffing about the pardon. Not even the Pinks could forge a royal seal and get away with it.

Kestrel said nothing, and Bon Bon tucked the letter back into her jacket. Then, looking at Lyra, she nodded, and Lyra carefully reset the hammer on her shotgun and stood up. Both mares slid their way out of the booth, taking their weapons with them, both sides warily watching each other the whole way. “Just… think on our little offer for a while,” Bon Bon said, smiling at Kestrel.

That little smile made Kestrel want to beat it off of the mare’s face with her bare hooves. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she slowly said.

“Yes. Do that. Because the next time we cross paths, I’ll expect an answer.” She winked at Kestrel, and Lyra stuck her tongue out for good measure. “It’s not an offer we’ll make again. At least, not to you. How much do you trust the rest of your ‘friends’, Kestrel? Think they wouldn’t take us up on it?”

“We ain’t givin’ you shit,” Kestrel hissed at her. “You can count on that.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Bon Bon said. “Otherwise I’d just have to arrest you on the spot.” Then she patted Lyra on the shoulder and began to walk toward the door. “Good day, Kestrel. Hope your ‘husband’ has a good shift at the factory.”

Kestrel watched them go, waited until the bell above the door tinkled as they stepped outside. She waited ten more minutes before she even bothered getting up from the booth, and even then, it wasn’t to leave. Instead, she went back to the bar and ordered two more whiskeys, neat, and took them back to her booth.

The proposal the Pinks made gnawed at her mind the entire time as she finished those two drinks, but more concerning than that was the simple fact that they knew the Gang was somewhere near Hoofston. She had no idea what to do about that, or even what to do next.

Law Attention increased by 2 to 4 (Very High)

Fly back to the Gang. I need to tell ‘em what happened here. They need to know the Pinks are in town, and we need to figure out what our next move is.

Rent a room in Hoofston and wait. I can’t go right back to the Gang now. They could be watchin’ for me, waitin’ to see where I go. I’ll take a room for a night and then slip away early in the mornin’. Gang’ll be worried about me for sure, though, and I pray they don’t do somethin’ stupid worryin’ ‘bout me…

Try to track down where the Pinks are staying. It’s time to hunt the hunters, I think. I’ll fly ‘round the city, gather what information I can, figure out where they’re stayin’. That information might be incredibly valuable to us later, though it ain’t without its risks… [DANGEROUS]

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 77

Try to track down where the Pinks are staying: 15 Votes

Kestrel spent almost half an hour nursing the two drinks she’d taken back from the bar, trying to delay the inevitable and give the Pinks more time to get away from her… or grow bored of waiting for her to leave, if they were camped out nearby. But the alcohol wouldn’t last forever, and even lingering as long as she was was a risky proposition of its own. Lyra had taken down her disguise, and here she was, sitting in a major city, her face in plain view for anypony to see.

At least nopony bothered her or acted like they recognized her. So, once the whiskey ran dry, Kestrel put a few bits down on the table, slid out of the booth, and trudged to the door, a little bit of a numb tingle in her wingtips after taking several shots’ worth of whiskey in the two hours or so she’d been camped out at the saloon. She pushed it open, wincing slightly at the little tinkling bell above her head as if it was the biggest bell in a bell tower, and slipped outside. Her eyes scanned the street intersection outside of the saloon, but there wasn’t any sign of the Pinks loitering about. She at least felt confident in that conclusion given their attire—bright pink suits weren’t exactly subtle, and if they’d been hanging around, she would have seen them immediately.

Instead, she made her way down the sidewalk and ducked into an alley. There, she tore the dress off of her shoulders and chucked it aside, shrugging her wings and flexing the feathers as she let her pegasus limbs breathe again. Since her illusion was gone, there was no point in wearing the dress anymore if anypony could just look at her face and recognize her. She’d be better off with her wings free, ready to fight or fly, than scampering around on the ground in a busted disguise at this point.

Hopefully Miss Irons wouldn’t be too upset about the dress.

After a moment to check up and down the alleyway, Kestrel spread her wings and flew straight up, flapping hard to get to the hazy layer of thin clouds hanging above Hoofston. Those clouds, though touched with soot and coal dust as they were, would at least give her a perch to observe what was happening below. If she could spot where the Pinks were stationed from above, that’d put her at far less risk than scouting things out from the ground. Especially since, given that the Pinks now knew for certain that the Gang was in Hoofston, the police force would know to look out for them as well.

Holding her breath as she reached the layer of smog spewed out from the factories below, Kestrel burst through the sooty clouds and alighted on a mat of wispy vapor and smoke. She spread out her legs to try and distribute her weight on the fragile platform, and succeeded in finding her balance, so long as she kept her wings out and lightly flapping to keep her full weight off of the smoke.

Kestrel uses Lady Luck (6+1) to spot any Pinks from above: Success

Her sharp pegasus eyes scanned the city below, gliding up and down the streets for colorful attire. A few times her eyes caught a glimpse of pink far below her, but it always ended up being a mare’s dress or a pony’s natural coat moving through a crowd. As she trained her attention more towards center city, however, she spotted a pair of pink suits, each with a glint of silver splitting across their backs. Kestrel immediately recognized that glint as the light of the setting sun reflecting off of gun barrels, and that made the rest of her deductions easy.

Another pair of Pinks.

Frowning, Kestrel leaned forward, her weight pulling her through the sooty cloud and sending her into a free fall. She built up speed for a few seconds before opening her wings, catching herself on the air and pointing her momentum forward. The city air rippled through the feathers of her strong wings as she glided after the two Pinks, trying to keep them in her sights as they turned a corner and walked behind a building. She did her best to keep her distance, but as the crowd began to fill in below, it became harder and harder to keep track of the Pinks from afar.

As she swooped lower and lower across the streets, the Pinks suddenly came back into view, stopped halfway down the street to talk to a couple of ponies. Kestrel flared her wings and shunted herself to the left when she realized one was facing in her direction, quickly ducking herself between two dormers on the roof of a nearby building. Her hooves clattered against shingle, and a tile slipped loose from the roof, but thankfully caught itself in the gutter just beyond before it could fall to the ground and shatter.

Do the Pinks notice Kestrel? No

After a minute to hide and stay out of sight from the road below, Kestrel cautiously poked her head above the dormer in front of her. Her eyes quickly locked in on the two Pinks in the street—moving away from her, thankfully. Taking a breath, Kestrel fluttered out from behind the rooftop again, this time moving from building to building, roof to roof, to give herself some cover to hide behind. She kept herself light on her hooves to avoid kicking off any more shingles, and always went over dormers and windows instead of in front of them, just in case somepony happened to be looking out from inside. And when she came to a street corner and watched the Pinks duck into a building, she quickly checked her surroundings to make sure she hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention.

Kestrel uses Lady Luck (6+1) to avoid drawing attention to herself as she moves along the rooftops: Success

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like anypony noticed her presence, so she crouched low and crept toward the corner of the roof to get a better look of her surroundings. The building the Pinks had stepped into was an expensive hotel, the electric lights out front proudly proclaiming the eight-story building as The Royal Stables. A few bellhops and management ponies hovered near the entrance, smoking cigarettes and talking to each other, while a pair of zebras unloaded a large wagon and lugged several wooden crates inside. Kestrel frowned at that. Luggage was one thing, but cargo? What could a hotel be doing with cargo? If it was just food or supplies, they’d be taking it in through a back door, she was certain of that. But the zebras were taking it in through the front like they would with suitcases and luggage, and that was odd enough for her to quirk an eyebrow in thought.

Kestrel frowned and scratched an itch under her chin with a soot-streaked hoof. She didn’t see any other Pinks outside of the hotel, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t found what she was looking for. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be getting any confirmation from the rooftops. Not for a while, at least, not until she maybe saw more Pinks come or go.

Of course, sticking around to confirm her findings could come with its own can of worms as well.

Wait it out and watch for Pinks. Well, here I am. Those two Pinks ducked into here, but who knows why. This could be where they’re stayin’—they certainly got the bits, ‘specially if they’re hired on by the Apple Family—or it might not be. Hangin’ ‘round here might let me see what’s up, though if somepony looks up, or if a pegasus comes flyin’ by, then there’s a chance I’ll be seen.

Fly down and ask around. Somepony nearby might know more about what’s goin’ on with the hotel here, though of course that means goin’ down without a disguise an talkin’ to ponies who might recognize me. Least I’d get a straight answer ‘fore somepony shoots me.

Go snooping around outside the hotel. I need to get closer to see what’s happenin’ down there. A more discreet approach might do me some good, though if somepony spots me, that’s gonna raise a whole host of questions and suspicion. That ain’t gonna be somethin’ I can talk my way out of.

Go inside the hotel and take a look around. Fastest way to figure out what’s goin’ on is to go right into the hornet’s nest and take a look with my own eyes. Might be a concierge I can talk to as well who’d know if there are Pinks stayin’ here and what rooms they’re stayin’ in.

Go back to the Gang. I’ve seen enough, and I shouldn’t risk my neck more. It’s time to go back to the Gang and report in on what I’ve found so far.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 78

Go back to the Gang: 10 Votes

After a few minutes to think things over, and after a few minutes of waiting in vain for any more Pinks to show up to confirm her suspicions, Kestrel shook her head and slid back from the roof. Waiting any longer was a risky proposition, she knew. The rooftop she was perched on was only a few stories up; anypony looking out of the higher windows of the hotel could look down and see her. The more she dallied around Hoofston, she realized, the worse off things could be for her. It was time to cash out with what information she’d gathered and return to the Gang. Knowing that the Pinks were in town and, more importantly, that the Apple Family had hired them on to provide security for the Conference was information that they critically needed to hear.

Stretching her wings out, Kestrel quickly scanned the sky above to make sure it was clear of other pegasi, then launched herself into the air. She took some time to circle higher and higher, figuring her best bet at slipping out without being noticed (or at least, without affording any tails the chance to easily follow her) was to get up high. After all, earth ponies and unicorns weren’t pegasi; they hardly ever looked up, their minds only thinking in two dimensions instead of three. It’d be trivially easy to slip by anypony on the ground if she was high enough in the air.

Still, she didn’t make a beeline for the camp; that would be too risky. Instead, she flew southeast, not quite in the opposite direction of the camp, but putting some distance between herself and it to make sure that she wouldn’t accidentally lead any Pinks back. All the while, she made sure to climb higher and higher, making herself even more difficult to track from the ground.

Eventually, Hoofston was miles behind her, and the dry and hot air of the Southwest had given way to a cooler chill with altitude and the setting sun. Kestrel held her wings straight out to simply glide in the high altitude silence, watching the world drift by below her, and flying high enough to watch the sun set for a second time beyond the curvature of the horizon. As day turned to night, Kestrel wheeled about once and began to loop back to the east, checking her surroundings for any followers. With a high vantage point and sharp eyes, she’d easily be able to see any pegasi in pink suits flying after her, no matter where they were.

Is Kestrel able to tell if she’s being followed? Yes

Is Kestrel being followed? No

But there wasn’t another pegasus in the sky for miles around, apart from a few dark dots on the distant horizons that slowly melted into the encroaching night. Confident that she wasn’t being followed, Kestrel finally turned herself toward the lake, flying back to the Gang while maintaining her altitude. After all, just because she wasn’t being followed now, didn’t mean she couldn’t pick up a tail later if she got careless.

But there was no further incident as she made her way back to camp. The roads were sparsely populated far below her, with barely any travelers on the trail as night encroached. Still, Kestrel waited until she was practically directly over the camp before she started her descent. Tilting her nose down, the outlaw banked to the left and bled away her altitude in a tight downwards spiral until a couple of backstrokes from her wings slowed her down and let her alight in the middle of the camp with a soft thud of hooves on the ground.

Her entrance immediately caught the eye of Silvie, who happened to be sitting on the back of Trixie’s wagon nearby. The younger mare had changed her bandages again, Kestrel noticed, and Silver winced as she waved a wing. “Hey, Kessie,” she said, managing a smile despite it. “You’re back late.”

“Got caught up in a little somethin’,” Kestrel said, walking closer. She gave Silver’s wound a closer look and raised an eyebrow. “Still not feelin’ any better?”

Silver rolls Healthiness (5-2) to heal while the Gang has some downtime: Fail

The silver pegasus shook her head. “Musta broke somethin’ when I got shot,” she said, frowning down the length of her muzzle. “Still hurts to twist and turn and the like. Still haven’t been able to go flyin’ much at all since Rock Ridge.”

Kestrel pursed her lips in concern. “We might need to find a doctor for you or somethin’,” she said. “Easier said than done now.”

Silver frowned and rolled her eyes. “Not like I’d wanna see a doctor anyhow. Wanderer’s feelin’ better, for Celestia’s sake, and he’s ancient! Imagine if I needed to see a doctor to feel like my old self!”

Wanderer rolls Healthiness (3-1) to heal while the Gang has some downtime: Critical Success

Wanderer is no longer Injured and has gained a bonus roll to the next time he takes damage before applying wounds.

The older of the pair of outlaws snickered at that. “You tryin’ to compare feathers with a stallion more than double your age?” She shook her head and laughed while Silver crossed her legs and pouted. “Silvie, you got shot a lot more than him. Don’t be so hard on yourself for takin’ some time to heal. I don’t want you to push yourself and gettin’ more hurt tryin’ to get back to a hundred percent before you’re ready. Understand?”

Reluctantly, Silver sighed and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I understand.”

“Good.” Kestrel looked around the camp and furrowed her brow. “Where’s Tumbleweed?”

“He and Rough should be down by the lake,” Silver answered. “I think they was goin’ to try fishin’ or somethin’.”

Kestrel’s mouth watered at that thought. “Fresh fish? That’s somethin’ I could get behind. Been a while, too. We been so busy since we set up shop here we ain’t had the time.” She turned toward the lake and touched the brim of her hat as she did so. “Thanks, Silvie.”

Leaving the younger mare behind, Kestrel crossed the camp and made it down to the lake. It wasn’t too hard to follow the sounds of Tumbleweed’s and Roughshod’s voices carrying across the water, and Kestrel spread her wings to hop across the waters and track them down. She eventually found them behind a bush of reeds, the two stallions casting lines into the water, a bucket between them.

“Catch anythin’ yet?” Kestrel asked, stepping closer once she was sure they weren’t about to cast their lines. She stepped closer and peered into the bucket, noting something swimming inside.

“Pair of catfish,” Tumbleweed said, and his magic began reeling in his line. “Probably gonna be it for the night, though. Sun’s goin’ down and it’s too dark to see.”

“Just enough for everypony to have a nibble,” Roughshod said, shrugging as he did the same. “Might have to go at it again tomorrow. Tumbleweed and me only started a few hours ago.”

Kestrel nodded. “Fish fry’d sure be nice. Might soothe some nerves over, ‘specially after tonight.”

Tumbleweed paused for a second, then turned to Kestrel with one eyebrow cocked. “What happened?”

“Pinks,” Kestrel said, frowning. “They’re here in Hoofston.”

“You sure?” Roughshod asked her. “You ain’t just gettin’ spooked?”

“Two of them talked to me,” Kestrel said. “I’m pretty sure.”

Tumbleweed set his fishing rod aside and pulled a cigar out of his vest. He didn’t light it, but he stuck the end in his lips nevertheless and began to chew on the end. It was a tick of his that Kestrel had become all too familiar with over the years they’d broken the law together, and she knew the gears in his mind were whirring along at a dizzying pace.

“Did they recognize you?” Tumbleweed asked her.

After a moment, Kestrel nodded. “Trixie’s illusions ain’t all that good when it comes to hidin’ from the Pinks. They sniffed it out almost as soon as they entered the saloon I was in.”

“Then what in Tartarus are you doin’ back here!” Roughshod exclaimed. He froze, and then his eyes narrowed at Kestrel. “Unless they let you go—”

“I ain’t turnin’ turncoat on us,” Kestrel growled back, cutting him off before Roughshod followed his thought to its obvious conclusion. Her feathers bristled outwards from her wings at even the hint of the accusation, and she took a breath to flatten them back down. “They sure tried to, though. They wanted me to know where our camp was. That means we’re safe for now.”

“Safe?” Roughshod asked, incredulous. “The damn Pinks are in town and know we’re here, and you think we’re safe?”

“They don’t know where our camp is,” Tumbleweed said, shifting his focus to Roughshod. “If they did, they would’ve arrested Kessie when they ran into her and then come for the rest of us. They wanted her to sell us out because they need to find where we are first. And I know Kestrel would never do such a thing.” His gaze fell back on Kestrel. “We’ve been ridin’ together too long to stab each other in the back now.”

“Grrr… fine.” Roughshod spat at the ground and almost kicked over the bucket with the catfish inside when he tried to stomp on the spittle. “You weren’t followed, Kestrel?”

“You got two functionin’ brain cells you can rub together?” Kestrel asked him, raising an eyebrow. “No. I ain’t dumb enough to get tailed. We’re in the clear. I did, however, find where the Pinks might be stayin’. There’s a hotel in town, The Royal Stables. I saw two Pinks goin’ into there, but I ain’t sure if that was where they were all stayin’, or if they were just visitin’ somepony. Some zebras were haulin’ cargo of some kind in through the front door, so I don’t know what to make of that.”

Tumbleweed’s cigar shrunk an inch as he chewed through it. “They’re connected, that much seems obvious,” he said. “Anythin’ else?”

“Only that the Pinks are in Hoofston because the Apple Family hired them on to be their security at the Conference,” Kestrel said. “We musta made enough noise in Rock Ridge to spook ‘em to the point they wanted some top bit professionals.”

“Great,” Roughshod groaned. “There goes that upcomin’ job.”

“Hold on, Rough, it ain’t like we ruled the thing out yet,” Tumbleweed said. “As of the moment, everythin’ is still a go. We just need to figure out what we’re doin’ next. Right, Kessie?”

“Right.” Kestrel hooked a wing under the handle of the bucket, hefting it off the ground and nodding toward the camp so the three could start the walk back. “We got the advantage so long as the Pinks don’t know where we’re stayin’. It’s Monday; we meet with Starlight on Wednesday. The job’s on Friday. Plenty of time to work with.”

“Then what are we gonna do in the meanwhile?” Roughshod asked, impatient as ever. “The Pinks here change everythin’. Shouldn’t we course correct?”

Kestrel worked her jaw from side to side in thought, while Tumbleweed’s cigar continued to shorten along the walk back.

Stay the course. No need to change how we’re doin’ things. We meet with Starlight on Wednesday, stay active in Hoofston keepin’ an eye on things despite the Pinks, and get ready for the job on Friday.

Scale things back. Keepin’ an eye on the situation in Hoofston is too dangerous with the Pinks in town. We’ll lie low until Wednesday and speak with Starlight before we figure out what our next move is.

Take the fight to the Pinks. We know where the Pinks are hangin’ out, roughly. A surprise attack on where they’re all stayin’ in the middle of the night could flush ‘em out and give us some breathin’ room to work with, ‘specially if we thin their numbers out a bunch. [EXTREMELY DANGEROUS]

Abandon Hoofston. If the Pinks are here, that means we need to move someplace else. Hoofston is too dangerous now to stick to our plans; we’ll be better served movin’ elsewhere, even if it means turnin’ a promisin’ job down. [GANG MORALE -2]

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 79

Scale things back: 12 Votes

“We do need to course correct a little,” Kestrel admitted, bobbing her head. “We ain’t gonna be able to keep up what we’re doin’ with the Pinks all over. It’s too dangerous to be headin’ into Hoofston all willy-nilly.”

“We’ll hurt from not bein’ able to keep track of changes,” Tumbleweed said, the cigar shorting ever so slightly. “But we’ll hurt more if the Pinks get ahold of one of us. We should consider ourselves lucky they didn’t take in Kessie today.”

“They’re after the grand prize, not one little fish,” Roughshod said with a snort. “That’s a point in our favor, I suppose.”

“Then we have to keep that advantage as long as we can.” Tumbleweed pulled a match out of his vest and lit the end of his cigar now that the question on his mind had been answered. The acrid stench of cigar smoke made Kestrel’s nose itch, and she took out one of her own cigarettes to unwind a bit. “We’ll stop sendin’ folks to Hoofston until we can talk to Starlight two days from now. When we do, Kessie, you and Silvie will have to go in and do it.”

Kestrel blinked in surprise. “You ain’t comin’ in?”

“My point is that the illusions won’t help us much anymore,” Tumbleweed said. “The Pinks sniffed out Trixie’s magic immediately, by your own admission. At this point, I think gettin’ in and outta Hoofston as fast as possible is our best bet to avoid their attention, rather than walkin’ in on hoof under a disguise. You and Silvie can fly into town, meet with Starlight, and then fly back out when you’re done. It’ll be a safer bet than walkin’ through the streets and crossin’ paths with the cops.”

“I suppose. Just hope Silvie’s feelin’ up for it by then. She’s still hurtin’.”

Roughshod shook his head. “That filly’s fast and lively, but she ain’t tough enough to take a hit.”

“She took more than her fair share during that shit that went down with the Vipers,” Tumbleweed said. “She was on death’s door not too long ago. Cut her some slack. And if she ain’t healed up by the time Wednesday comes around, then I’ll have Wanderer accompany Kessie into town.”

“I’ll try not to leave him behind,” Kestrel said, an amused smirk on her muzzle. “I think his best flyin’ days are behind him.”

“Don’t tell him that; he’ll beat you over the head with his guitar.”

The three ponies returned to the camp, where the rest of the Gang had started a fire and had gathered around to listen to Wanderer tell one of his many tales from his long and storied life. Kestrel went over to the chuck wagon and set the bucket just under it, where hopefully nopony would knock it over and spill the water and catfish inside. She grabbed a tin bowl to grab some of the stew still cooking over the campfire, considering she hadn’t had a chance to get a good dinner while dealing with the Pinks in Hoofston, and also nabbed a bottle of whiskey out of the crate with her other wing. A dinner without a drink was hardly much of a meal, after all.

When she returned to the campfire, she found Tumbleweed in the middle of addressing the rest of the Gang about the change in plans. Judging by the expressions on her friends’ faces, they hadn’t taken the news about the Pinks much better than Tumbleweed or Roughshod had when she’d first told the two of them at the lake. “We will remain vigilant around our camp,” Tumbleweed was saying, gesturing vaguely off into the trees surrounding the campsite as if he was standing at a podium giving a campaign speech. “So long as we keep our eyes open and remain cautious, we will be safe. We have the advantage as of now; the Pinks don’t know where we are. I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible, but I must warn you, there will come a time, perhaps sooner rather than later, that we are found out. Keep that in mind.”

Kestrel took some stew out of the pot and sat down next to Trixie, who seemed the most alarmed out of everypony gathered around. “Don’t worry ‘bout it none,” she said to the magician as Tumbleweed and Roughshod walked away to deposit their fishing rods someplace safe. “It just comes with the job.”

Trixie stared almost blankly into the fire and swallowed hard. “Trixie did not think that she’d be hunted by professional bounty hunters this year.”

“Bah, they’re hardly bounty hunters,” Kestrel said, waving a hoof. “They’re professional security and enforcement, though. A whole private company dedicated to bringin’ the worst Equestria has to offer to heel.”

The magician blinked as she tried to parse that. “How is that different from bounty hunters?”

“Because the Pinks ain’t in it for the cash,” Kestrel said, fitting a spoonful of stew into her mouth. “They’re just a bunch of morons who think they’re makin’ the world a better place by tryin’ to wipe us out. They’re paid a salary, they got all sorts of equipment, they got direction and resources. But they ain’t got experience or passion.”

“And that helps… how?”

“Bounty hunters—the ones that live long enough to become famous, at least—they know how to fight dirty with ponies like us. They know how to fight us; they know what it’s like. They’re also desperate for that bounty. It is their livelihood after all.” Another bite of stew. “The Pinks, they don’t fight dirty. Well… they’ll fight dirtier than the Law, that’s for sure, but they still have codes. But they’re more like to back off if things get rough and come again later if it’s their lives on the line. Make enough of a racket, put up enough of a fight, and you’ll buy yourself some time. Not a whole lot… but some.”

Trixie seemed to mull that over. “And how much time do you think we can buy from the Pinks now that they’re here in Hoofston?”

“I don’t know,” Kestrel admitted. “We put up enough of a fight on the other side of the San Palomino to buy some time to slip across the desert and lose them. But now they’re here in Hoofston, and we ain’t gonna lose them by goin’ back across the desert again. Not that we’d even survive another trip anyway…” She finished off her bowl of stew and chucked it aside for the time being. “There ain’t a lot of places left to run to in the Southwest,” she said, her eyes drifting toward the fire. “We need a couple of big takes, and we need to get ‘em quickly. That’s why I’m hopin’ this Hoofston job’s gonna be big. The longer it takes us to get the money to get out of Equestria for good, the less chance we’ll have of doin’ it. Eventually we’ll be boxed in, and once they got us cornered, the Pinks ain’t gonna lay off ‘til we’re dead.”

“Oh…”

“I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it too much,” Kestrel said, popping the cork out of the bottle of whiskey and taking a sip. “We’re more than a match for a few Pinks. So long as we stay a step ahead of ‘em, we ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

She let her gaze wander over the camp as ponies began to move to different areas to do their own things for the night. Tonight would be a calm one, if a bit tense, she figured, and tomorrow would be boring. She had plenty of time to relax and get some things out of the way before they reassessed the situation in Hoofston on Wednesday after speaking with Starlight.

Listen to stories with Wanderer, Miss Irons, and Trixie

Play drinking games with Silver and Roughshod

Walk the perimeter of the lake with Tumbleweed and Snapshot

Drink and sleep

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 80

Listen to stories with Wanderer, Miss Irons, and Trixie: 6 Votes

After a few minutes to look around the camp and sip from her bottle of whiskey, Kestrel ultimately decided she was comfortable where she was, seated by the fire. The air only grew colder as night crept in, the dry dirt and dust of the southwest doing little to hold the day’s heat, so the flames were a welcome companion. Besides, listening to Wanderer tell stories that blurred the line between truth and fiction was always a good way to pass the time.

Kestrel leaned back in her chair, bottle of whiskey wrapped in the feathers of her wing, and tilted her chin up towards the two elderly ponies sitting across the fire from her. “So? What tale was you in the middle of ‘fore Tumbleweed dropped the unfortunate news?”

Wanderer waved a dull red wing turned vibrant by the flickering light of the campfire. “Oh, that one was just about the two years I spent as a ship’s mate. You’ve heard that story a hundred times before, I’m sure.”

“The one where the captain pressed you into the crew because he caught you sleepin’ with his daughter?” Kestrel snickered at that. “You always was the romantic kind, Wanderer.”

“Oh, ain’t that, the truth,” Miss Irons said, shooting the elderly stallion a flirty look.

Trixie made an exaggerated gagging sound as the two camp elders rubbed noses. “Trixie thinks other things might be her demise before these ‘Pinks’ ponies…”

“Hush, you.” Miss Irons shot Trixie a stern look. “Just because we’ve seen our fair share of years doesn’t mean we can’t have a special somepony.”

“Yeah,” Wanderer said, and the quirk of his eyebrows was all the warning Kestrel had for what was coming next. “Young love is nice and all, but it’s clumsy. Old love, now… let’s just say when you’re seventy-two, you know a few things about anatomy.”

Kestrel snorted, almost shooting whiskey out her nose, and Trixie’s jaw fell slack while a rosy blush built on her cheeks. “I… Trixie…” the magician stammered, at a loss for words.”

Miss Irons lightly bopped Wanderer on the nose. “Come now, you’re making the young mares uncomfortable,” she teased.

“I wouldn’t be an old coot if I didn’t,” Wanderer lightheartedly retorted. The two chuckled, a laughter that slowly faded away, only to be overcome by coughing and drunken laughter from the other side of the camp. Kestrel looked over her shoulder to see Roughshod pounding his chest while Silver Wings teetered and tottered in her seat, pointing at him and laughing with an empty shot glass balanced between her feathers. Kestrel had no idea what was so funny, but she was at least happy to see that those two hadn’t let the news about the Pinks get to them.

That was something that Trixie picked up on as well. “Why is nopony worried about the professional outlaw hunters staying in force just a few miles up the road?” she asked, frowning.

“Because this isn’t anything new for us,” Wanderer said. “We’ve been on the run more often than not these past few years. Much of that time was spent running from the Pinks. When you’re part of a gang like ours, it’s just a fact of life. But so long as you stay smart and you don’t let your guard down, you’ll live to see tomorrow.”

Trixie glanced back at the two ponies playing drinking games on the other side of the camp. “This doesn’t feel like we’re keeping our guard up…”

“Tumbleweed and Snapshot are walkin’ ‘round,” Kestrel assured her. “You can bet that they’re keepin’ an eye open for any threats. So long as we stick together and trust each other, we’ll be fine.”

The magician didn’t have anything to say about that, but Kestrel could tell by the way she hunched her shoulders forward that her concerns weren’t entirely waved away. Instead, Kestrel turned to Wanderer, hoping that a story would help get the mare’s mind off of things. “How ‘bout another one, Wanderer?” she asked him. “Give us a really good one. Somethin’ I ain’t heard before.”

“Something new?” Wanderer tapped his chin in thought, the primary feather of his wing bending with each tap. “You’ve heard most of my stories, we’ve been together for so long. Though… hmm…” He slowly grinned and raised an eyebrow at the two young mares sitting across the fire from him. “I ever tell you about the time I met Princess Celestia?”

“What?” That one caught Kestrel by surprise. “You never… you’re makin’ that one up, ain’t you? You’d have told us ‘bout that sooner if it were true.”

“Well, I mostly don’t talk about it because it’s an embarrassing one, truth be told,” Wanderer said with a shrug. “Another story dredged up from my days as a rambunctious colt.”

Trixie looked over Wanderer’s aged features, his fraying wings, the thinning patches of his coat. “Trixie finds it hard to imagine you as a colt,” she said.

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t born in my seventies,” Wanderer said with a little chuckle. “I was actually quite the troublemaker when I was small. My father was a soldier who flew off to Griffonia when I was little and never came back. My mother was a baker in Cloudsdale, though the feather flu got her before too long. Perhaps it’s no surprise I turned to a life of crime when I turned thirteen and was on my own.”

His wings picked up the guitar lying nearby and idly strummed soft notes on the strings. They didn’t play a melody, only a few lonely chords; it was the older stallion’s way of thinking when digging through his memories for his stories. “When you’re thirteen and on your own in a sky city, about the only thing you can do to get a roof over your head is work in the weather factories. Those new complexes were being built up at a blistering pace while I was a colt. The promise was there, alright. Imagine it: pegasi could manufacture the weather in one central hub and bring it all throughout Equestria, instead of having to corral clouds and shape weather patterns on the site to fit your schedule. Thing is, those factories going up so fast, needed ponies to operate them. They tried bringing in all sorts of workers on the promise of two meals and a roof over their heads. Cloudsdale was in the middle of a recession, so labor wasn’t exactly hard to find. But they preferred colts my age, because they could pay us pennies compared to adults. But I wasn’t about to settle for that.”

“Why?” Trixie asked. “You needed a job, didn’t you?”

“I needed money, not a job,” Wanderer corrected her. “And I figured there had to be a better way of collecting bits than working in a factory where I’d more likely than not get electrocuted by a thundercloud, considering there were foals as young as ten operating the machinery. So I sat down on a cloud and thought long and hard about how I was going to get the bits I needed to survive. And I came to the conclusion that only a dumb and desperate thirteen year old could possibly think up.”

Kestrel covered her muzzle with a wing to hide the growing smirk on her face. She knew exactly where Wanderer was going with this story.

Trixie, however, apparently didn’t. “What’s that?” she asked, angling her head to the side.

“Well, if you’re going to rob somepony, they might as well be worth the time, right?” The small smile on Wanderer’s lips widened. “And who has more money in Equestria other than Princess Celestia herself?”

“You tried to rob Princess Celestia?!”

“Ambitious, that’s for damn sure,” Kestrel said with a snicker.

“Yes, ‘tried’ being the operative word there,” Wanderer said. “I made it about as far as the gardens before I got caught. Or in other words, I dived in from a cloud and had guards on me before my hooves even touched the ground.”

That even earned a snort from Miss Irons. “I see not much has changed since your youth.”

Wanderer proudly shook his head. “Still the loose cannon I’ve always been. But, anyway, after the guards caught hold of me, they went to take me in for questioning, since who knows why a starving colt would be landing in the royal grounds in the middle of the day. On the way there, though, I crossed paths with the Princess herself.”

He rubbed a hoof behind his neck and shrugged his wings. “Honestly, though, there isn’t much more to say about that. She asked what was happening, and I eventually admitted to her that I was trying to rob the castle for bits, she laughed and had me released. She even let me stay for dinner in the royal halls before letting me go.”

“No way!” Trixie exclaimed. “This is made up!”

“Everything I’ve said is the truth,” Wanderer assured her. “Our nation’s princess is one of the kindest ponies I’ve ever met. She reminded me a lot of my mother, in fact. But all the despicable greed in Equestria, well it’s not her fault. She lives in a castle on a mountaintop, and that doesn’t let her see as much of her nation as she probably thinks it does. There are so many ponies who take advantage of her kindness all throughout Equestria that it’s the reason things are the way they are today.”

“Like how you took advantage of her kindness in eating dinner and then scrammin’?” Kestrel asked.

“Yes, well, what can I say? After she politely showed me the door and offered me some words of encouragement, I gave up on trying to rob her again.” The old pegasus chuckled as he added, “She offered me a job helping around the palace, but of course I was too proud and too embarrassed to realize how gold of an offer she’d presented right in front of me. Instead, I slept in an alley, robbed a pony the next morning, and took a train all the way to Manehattan just to put that whole thing behind me.”

“Imagine you, though!” Miss Irons exclaimed. “Head butler to the Princess, not some wanted outlaw!”

“I think I prefer life this way,” Wanderer said. “I’ve seen more of the world than I ever would have had I just stayed in Canterlot. And I’ve met more ponies in my many storied years than thirteen year old me could have imagined. Sure, I could have had a happy and comfortable life had I made the smart decision when I was a stupid teenager… but I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.”

After a moment and a few last chords, Wanderer set the guitar aside and forced his tired bones into a standing position. “I think I’ll head in for the night,” he said, glancing up at the stars overhead. “Old coots like myself can’t compete with you younger ponies when it comes to staying up late.”

“We can’t compete with you when it comes to getting up early,” Kestrel assured him. “Goodnight, Wanderer.”

The old stallion touched his hat and slowly slipped into the darkness, Miss Irons not too far behind him after giving a curt nod to Kestrel and Trixie. When they were gone, Kestrel turned to Trixie and noticed the mare was deep in thought.

“Tryin’ to figure out if everything he said is true?” she asked the magician.

“Yes… no… ugh, Trixie doesn’t know.” The blue mare rocked herself out of the chair and to her hooves, her eyes looking into the darkness where the two elderly ponies had disappeared. “This is his family, isn’t it?” she finally asked.

Kestrel simply nodded. “We’re all misfits, Trixie,” she said. “All of us have lost somethin’. This world don’t want us none, so we had to find other ponies who would. The Gang is my family, much as it’s Wanderer’s, much as it’s Tumbleweed’s. We’re gonna stick together until the day we die, one way or another. Whether that’s years from now on a sunny beach on a tropical island, or in a few months at the end of a rope, we’ll always be a family. Bonds like these ain’t somethin’ you take for granted.”

Yawning, Kestrel stood up and jammed the cork back in the whiskey bottle, not feeling like finishing off the rest at the moment. “Whatever happens, we’ll look out for each other. That means everypony,” she said, making eye contact with the magician and giving her a reassuring nod. “G’night, Trixie.”

“Goodnight, Kestrel…”

Kestrel’s tired hooves took her across camp to her lean-to, where she stripped herself down naked and slid onto the sleeping mat. She could occasionally hear the hooting and hollering of Silver and Roughshod as they played their games and drank, but that didn’t bother her much at all. Closing her eyes, Kestrel counted to ten, and then she was out like a light.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 81

Gray clouds hung heavy over Hoofston, their presence heralding the oncoming storm. Though a team of weather pegasi hired by the Apple Conglomerates worked overtime to keep the skies above the conference grounds clear, the heavy, wet clouds continued to roll in along the fringes of the city. Rain would be coming to the arid city soon as one of the few seasonal thunderstorms barreled down on the drylands town.

That didn’t bother Kestrel any. In fact, she was happy to have the cloud cover as she waited above the city. After spending all of Tuesday cooped up at the camp with the rest of the Gang, it felt good to get out and about without having to worry about being spotted by the Pinks. Though those damn ponies knew that the Gang was in Hoofston, Kestrel doubted that any of them would bother standing outside all day when the skies threatened rain and straining their necks to watch for movement above the clouds.

“It’s kinda chilly up here, ain’t it?” Silver asked by Kestrel’s side. The silver mare fluffed up her feathers and shivered a little as the wet breeze slid through their feathers. “Didn’t think the air got cold this far down south.”

“Weather does as weather wants,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “Much nicer on the ground than up here, though. The clouds’ll keep the sun offa the ground for a while, cool things down.” After a moment, she glanced sidelong at Silver. “It ain’t botherin’ your wounds?”

Has Silver healed during the day of downtime? Yes

Silver Wings is now Grazed and suffers a -1 penalty to Healthiness.

“Not too bad,” Silver said, and she rubbed the scars that had formed around her injuries. “Still hurts some, but I ain’t feelin’ as bad as I were a few days ago. I think beatin’ Rough in some drinkin’ games helped out.”

“Yeah, beatin’ Rough in anythin’ is a good way to feel better,” Kestrel agreed. Rolling her shoulders, Kestrel scooted forward and peered off the cloud at the town below. The two outlaws had positioned themselves above the bar in town square, waiting for Starlight to make her appearance down below. As soon as the revolutionary made her way into the bar, Kestrel and Silver would swoop down after her, discuss what they’d all found out, and get out. Hopefully, when all was said and done, they wouldn’t need to spend more than ten minutes on the ground. The less time they spent where the Pinks could catch them, the better.

Silver rolled onto her back, her wings splayed out on the cloud beneath her, and blew a curl of her forelock out of her face. “Feh… She’s takin’ her sweet time, ain’t she?” she asked, her eyes focused on the towering anvil of a thundercloud looming in the distance. “Another few hours and we’re gonna be soaked. Rain ain’t that far off.”

“To be fair, we didn’t exactly agree on a time, only the date and the place,” Kestrel said with a shake of her head. A lot of things could have been better planned about this whole ordeal, but at this point, it was what it was. As look would have it, however, her sharp eyes spotted a familiar purple coat round a corner and begin walking toward the bar below them. “Though speak of the devil, and she shall appear…”

Silver’s ears perked, and she rolled back onto her hooves, her clothes dampened from the rainwater in the cloud. “Lucky us,” she said, stretching out her wings and taking to the air. “Lead the way, Kessie.”

Kestrel didn’t so much as take wing as she did walk off the edge of the cloud and let gravity do the work for her. She only opened her wings and caught the air in her feathers when she was about halfway toward the ground, and a few flaps brought her safely down to the outside of the bar, Silver following right in her wake. Together, the two mares pushed open the doors and stepped inside, keeping their eyes open for any ponies in pink suits inside. Thankfully, there were none.

Nodding to Silver, Kestrel made her way deeper into the bar. It was slowly getting more crowded, which was both good and bad. The more ponies there were, the greater the chance somepony would recognize the two outlaws in their midst, but it also made it less likely anypony would pay attention to a discussion happening in the back of the bar. Thankfully, nopony seemed to recognize the two mares as they made their way toward the booth in the back of the bar.

Starlight blinked in surprise when Kestrel and Silver slid into the bench across from her. “Umm… do I know you?”

“You do,” Kestrel said with a nod. “At least, one of us.”

“Your voice—ohhhh.” Starlight relaxed and smiled. “Different disguises, I see.”

“Not quite,” Kestrel said, leaning forward. “This here’s the real deal. Our magician, her illusions ain’t all that good if we fly. And with things in Hoofston the way they are, flyin’ in and outta here is the safer option.”

Starlight shook her head. “Your mistake is trusting a unicorn who calls herself a magician instead of a mage to cast your spells,” she said. She turned to Silver and held out a hoof. “Unless you were under the guise of a stallion last time, I don’t think we’ve met. Starlight.”

Silver shook the offered hoof. “Silver Wings,” she said with a nod. “I ain’t gonna worry about false names, ‘cause you’ll probably see my face on a poster ‘round here soon enough.”

“I’ll keep my eyes out, then,” Starlight said. She pulled her hoof back to her side and turned to Kestrel. “I’m assuming ‘Thistle’ isn’t your real name, then.”

“Kestrel,” Kestrel said with a curt nod. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, though… what have we got?”

“Right… well, I talked to a few of my friends and contacts inside the factories and around town,” Starlight said. “This grand finale event, it’s happening inside a closed-off tent at noon on Friday. All the big name fat cats are going to be there for that. I wasn’t able to get any exact details on what the Apples are showing off in that tent, but it’s supposed to be some kind of one-of-a-kind machine, powered by valuable crystals.” She leaned forward and winked at the two mares. “I don’t know if the machine itself will be useful to your gang, but I imagine if you take it apart and break out the crystals, they’ll be worth buckets of bits. Plus, all the investors there are likely to have fat purses. You can clean out the crowd while you’re stealing this contraption, whatever it’s supposed to be.”

Kestrel nodded, turning that over in her mind. If this contraption indeed turned out to be very valuable, coupled with all the rich ponies sitting in one place… “We could probably make several thousand off of this,” she said with a satisfied nod. “Maybe ten thousand. Depends on how much cash those ponies are carryin’ on ‘em.”

“There’s supposed to be an auction following the display,” Starlight said. “I imagine they won’t have empty pockets. The Apple Families don’t like being stiffed; they’d want payment in full from the winner as soon as possible before they turn over whatever this thing is supposed to be.”

Silver rubbed her hooves together, practically salivating at the thought. “And we won’t even have to shoot up a train for all those bits…”

“Now, that’s what I’ve found,” Starlight said. “What about your Gang?”

“We’ve, admittedly, had to take things a little more cautiously than you,” Kestrel said, tapping her forehooves together. “But we learned some things while we were out and about. Mainly, the Apple Families hired the Pinkie Pie Detective Agency to run their security.”

Starlight scowled at the noose. “I’ve had run-ins with the PPDA before,” she said. “They’re just hired thugs for the rich to keep their purse strings secure and beat down ponies yearning for equality all throughout Equestria.”

“One way of lookin’ at it, sure,” Kestrel said with a nod. “Point is, the Pinks are tough. They’re trained, and they play loose with the law. Startin’ a shootout with them is a much more dangerous proposition than chasin’ away some outmatched police ponies. And I bet if there’s gonna be this much money in one place on Friday, they’re gonna be out there in force.”

“That certainly complicates things,” Starlight agreed. “I suppose whatever plan we come up with is going to have a lot of moving parts. Smash and grab isn’t likely to end well considering the opposition.”

“Then what is our plan?” Silver asked, looking between the other two mares. “I’m not as good as Tumbleweed when it comes to thinkin’ up ideas…”

“I’ve got a few friends I can rally to aid us,” Starlight said. “They should be able to get us whatever we need, so long as we give them enough notice.”

Kestrel rubbed her chin with her hoof. “Well, we can look at things in the simplest manner,” she said. “Either we go loud, or we try a more subtle approach. Each has got its challenges, though…”

Opt for the loud approach. We go in guns blazin’ with the Chatter gun to back us up, we can catch the Pinks by surprise and wipe out a lot of ‘em ‘fore they can even respond to us. Gives us a more limited window to get what we want and get out ‘fore reinforcements arrive, but it cuts down on the unknowns a good bit.

Attempt a more subtle approach. There’s a lot we could accomplish with some disguises and well-placed guns. If we can get control of that auction tent without the Pinks findin’ out, and keep the crowd under control, we can really take the time to clean the place out.

Divide and conquer. We cause some mayhem near the conference to draw the Pinks and the police away, we can secure the auction tent easier. We’ll have less resistance to contend with, but fewer of us to take the score and get outta there.

Call the whole thing off. The payoff ain’t gonna be worth the risks we’ve gotta take to collect it. We’re better off startin’ over from square one, even if it means tryin’ to find another opportunity to collect a score with the Pinks in town. [GANG MORALE -2] [STARLIGHT WILL REMEMBER THAT]

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 82

Divide and conquer: 9 Votes

“What about your friends?” Silver asked Starlight. “Are they willin’ to get their hooves dirty?”

“Revolutions don’t happen if one isn’t ready to dirty their hooves,” Starlight said, giving her a resolute nod. “If it comes down to it, then they’ll be ready to give everything in the name of equality.”

Kestrel held up her hooves to try and slow Starlight down some. “Now, now, we ain’t lookin’ to get anypony killed here. I think even you’ll agree with me when I say you ain’t gonna accomplish nothin’ if all y’all are dead. Ideally, we get through this without havin’ to kill anypony. In reality, I’m just hopin’ we get outta this with as few ponies dead on both sides as possible. Rare is the day when a big thing like this goes off without somepony bitin’ the bullet.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Starlight said. “The only thing more desirable to a revolutionary like myself than giving everything in the name of freedom and equality is living long enough to see your dreams be made real.”

“I… suppose I can understand that,” Kestrel said, shrugging. Though she didn’t have a cause to champion like Starlight did, she still had one to devote her life to. Getting the Gang to safety and seeing them all live out the rest of their days in peace was her goal, and like Starlight, she knew she would be more than willing to die for it if it came down to it.

Silver, for her part, was already turning over the wheels in her mind and trying to come up with a plan. “Well, the more ponies we have in on this plan, the better a chance we have of pullin’ it off, I think. If you add your friends into the mix, that helps by a lot.”

“Can they fight?” Kestrel asked her. “And how many can we expect?”

“They can fight,” Starlight said with a nod. “And you can expect four of them. Two unicorns, a pegasus, and an earth pony. They don’t have… let’s call it the ‘experience’ your gang of outlaws has, but they’ve been in enough scraps and brushed with enough fat cat private security and enforcers to know how to handle themselves.”

“Four?” Silver couldn’t help but let a little disappointment slip into her voice. “Y’know, you were championin’ yourself up as some big movement leader of equality, I was kinda hopin’ you had a few more friends than four…”

Starlight shook her head. “I have more, but I try to send them out across the Southwest to rally more to the cause. The four I have with me in Hoofston, they’re my closest and most trusted advisors. They’re reliable and capable, and whatever they may lack in skills, they make up for with zeal.”

“Four will have to do, then,” Kestrel said. “We might be able to scrounge somethin’ more up, dependin’ on how much we’re willin’ to reach out. I met a group of ponies who don’t like authority all that much not too far out of the city.” She chuckled and added, “At first I thought they was part of your group, from how they made it sound.”

“Do you mean Fallow and his band of strays?” Starlight’s nose wrinkled at the thought, and a small scowl settled across her face. “I’ve crossed paths with them occasionally. Fallow’s spurned Marex’s ideas every time I’ve tried to teach it to his group, even though they’re the ponies they’d help the most. They don’t realize that the only way to improve their lot in life is to fight for it, to break the yoke holding them down.” Sighing, Starlight leaned back in her seat. “Some of his followers probably don’t share his sentiments. They might be willing to help out if you can get through to them. But I’ll leave that up to you. In the meanwhile, what are you thinking we should try?”

“Divide and conquer,” Kestrel said. “We need to draw some of the security away from the conference if we’re gonna have a chance to pull off a haul without gettin’ filled full of holes in the process. That means startin’ a ruckus someplace else in Hoofston to draw the attention of the Pinks at the conference. The Apples might be payin’ ‘em handily to keep their little show safe and secure, but if the Pinks know that a band of outlaws they’ve been after for a long while now are within reach, I bet they’re gonna be willin’ to jump for the bait.”

Starlight nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll have to mix our groups, then,” she said. “The PPDA won’t go after my group of revolutionaries if it’s just us; the police would stop us before they did. But they might be willing to cut loose if some of your gang is there, if they’re as zealous about catching you as you make them out to be.” She took a sip from a glass of water in front of her and rolled her shoulders. “Meanwhile, I need to make sure that the message of revolution is spread at the conference, so I will be joining whoever is going there myself.”

Kestrel shrugged. “Suit yourself. Suppose our two groups’ll have to get a little bit friendly with each other when we set things in motion.”

“How are we going to coordinate that, though?” Silver asked. “It ain’t like we’re in a position where we can easily meet up and discuss things…”

“Well, there’s five of you, and six of us I feel comfortable bringin’ into this mess,” Kestrel said to Starlight. “Seven, if I count one of our older members. That makes twelve ponies in all.”

“So, six and six, then,” Starlight said. “I suggest I take one of my friends along with myself to go join you on the conference, and you send three of your gang to the distraction. That’s fairly evenly split, and we should accomplish both of our objectives. Does that sound reasonable?”

“I suppose,” Kestrel said.

Silver glanced over her shoulder and frowned at the interior of the bar. “Place is startin’ to get busier,” she said to Kestrel. “We should get movin’ soon. Somepony might recognize us if we hang ‘round too long.”

“Is that our plan, then?” Starlight asked Kestrel. “Should we work under that assumption and meet early Friday? Or perhaps should we find an opportunity to refine it more?”

We should discuss this further here. We need to figure out all the details while we have the chance. A poorly-laid plan ain’t gonna be a very good plan when the chips are on the table.

Take Starlight back to the camp to discuss this further. If we bring Starlight back to the camp, we can talk all we want about the damn plan without fear of the Pinks sniffin’ us out. Plus, then Tumbleweed can give us his input, and the two of them can work out the details.

Give Starlight directions to the camp and meet up later. Silvie and me can split now and have a talk with Starlight and her friends back at the camp, if she decides to bring ‘em along. We can figure things out as a group then, even if it means more ponies than we might be comfortable with knowin’ where we’re staked out.

The plan is fine as it is. No sense riskin’ the Gang by showin’ ponies where our camp is or risking our hides by stickin’ around longer. Let’s just decide where to meet on Friday and then get outta here before somepony recognizes us.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 83

Take Starlight back to the camp to discuss this further: 12 Votes

Kestrel looked around the bar, noting the numerous different ponies beginning to trickle in. None were wearing pink suits, which was a relief, but it was impossible to know just by looking at a pony whether or not they’d recognize Kestrel or Silver from a wanted poster. Sticking around any longer would only increase those chances, and more heat from the Law was not something either outlaw could afford now. “We need to work out the fine details,” she began, “but not here. We can’t chance somepony recognizin’ the two of us.”

“Then where?” Starlight asked. “I don’t imagine the two of you want to spend any more time in the city than you have to.”

“Back at our camp,” Kestrel said, and Silver raised an eyebrow in surprise. “We need someplace private and safe to hash out the rest, and me and Silvie don’t speak for all of our gang. Gettin’ everypony on the same page before we start out is the best way to go about this, I feel.”

Starlight nodded. “Yes, that would be best. How far away is your camp? I imagine it would be hard to find, given the interest the government seems to have in you. How should I expect to find it?”

“We won’t expect you to,” Kestrel said, gesturing for Silvie to slide over so she could stand up. “We’re gonna take you there by wing. Fastest way there, fewest risks. Once we’re outta town, it’s easy goin’ til we’re home.”

“I hope you ain’t ‘fraid of heights,” Silver added. “Last time we flew somepony back to camp, she was an earth pony. Didn’t take to havin’ her hooves off the ground too well.” The metallic mare smiled faintly at the memory, before a sadder expression clouded her face. It was all too clear to Kestrel who—and what—the younger outlaw was thinking about.

The shift in Silver’s expression went unnoticed by the revolutionary as she left her seat. “Worry about being in the air? I can levitate myself off the ground if I need to. Heights don’t bother me.”

Silver cocked her head at Starlight, brow furrowing. “I thought unicorns had trouble levitating themselves?”

“Not if you know the right way to do it… and are strong enough to do it.” Starlight proudly puffed out her chest and tossed her head back a bit, the flounce of her mane accentuating her pronounced horn. “But please, I imagine a pegasus carrying a unicorn would attract far less attention than a unicorn levitating herself through the city. Not to mention that it is tiring, after all.”

“Right.” Kestrel turned to Silver and pointed a wingtip toward the door. “Make sure the coast is clear. We’ll watch through the door here. If it is, walk to the right and fly up. If it ain’t, walk left and then take wing. If everythin’s good, Starlight and me’ll be out right behind you.”

“Got it. See you at the camp.” A nod from the younger outlaw accompanied her words, and then she turned around and made for the doorway. Kestrel and Starlight watched her nonchalantly skirt her way around a few ponies stepping into the bar for lunch, and Kestrel was relieved to see that none of them paid her much attention as she passed. If they didn’t recognize the pegasus with the shiny coat, they likely wouldn’t recognize the other pegasus with a more subdued coloration, even if the patterns on Kestrel’s wings were unique enough in their own right.

Is there any trouble outside of the bar? No

After pausing just outside the doorway to survey the streets under the guise of lighting a cigarette, Silver finally turned to the right and walked out of sight, quietly settling some of the butterflies arising in Kestrel’s stomach. “Coast is clear,” she said back to Starlight, and then began walking for the door. “Let’s go.”

The two mares stepped outside of the bar, and Kestrel took her own chance to double-check the streets for any sign of trouble before taking off; thankfully, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary that she could see, but she wasn’t going to take any more time than she needed to in the city. So, stooping over, she spread out her wings so Starlight could climb on her back. “C’mon. Don’t touch the guns.”

“Outlaws and revolutionaries, what an apt pairing,” Starlight said as she settled onto Kestrel’s back. The pegasus stood up, grimacing at the added weight, and frantically beat her wings to get into the air and start to climb. She had to fly down the length of the street before she finally had the height to start clearing buildings, but by the time she was away from the city, she’d gotten enough altitude to escape the notice of any ponies on the ground. From there, she caught a thermal of wind rising up off of the road into Hoofston and used the added energy to help ease her flight back to the lake.

Starlight looked around as the two flew back home, the wind blowing through her mane. “Sometimes it’s hard to put the whole world into perspective from the ground,” she mused. “You pegasi see everything much different than we do.”

“Ain’t all that much different,” Kestrel said, sparing a moment to shrug between flaps of her wings. “Just perspective. Ponies’re ponies all the same, no matter if you see ‘em from up here or down there.”

“It just makes you think about the big picture, though,” Starlight said. “When you can see much more of the canvas, how can you not?”

Kestrel chuckled and tried to gain a little more altitude to glide her way back to camp. “Never was much of an artist,” she said. “I’m afraid anythin’ deeper than that’s gonna be lost on me.”

“Right, I forgot who I’m talking to…”

The two passed the rest of the flight in silence, with Starlight admiring the view from up above, and Kestrel focusing on not falling out of the sky while carrying another pony on her back. Soon enough, the time came to descend, and Kestrel circled above the trees surrounding the camp a few times before touching down. She hit the ground with a grunt and crouched low for Starlight to slide off of her back, then stood upright and shook the sweat streaming off of her coat and wings onto the ground. “Clothes’re gonna need a wash after that,” she muttered to herself, already feeling the sweat dampening her outfit, and turned back to Starlight. “So? Everything you imagined an outlaw’s camp to be?”

Starlight looked around, and ultimately hummed with approval. “Quaint,” was her conclusion. “I’ve certainly had rougher lodgings moving from town to town.”

“It’s a nice place,” Kestrel agreed. Then, she pointed a wing toward the other end of the camp, where Silver was already talking to Tumbleweed by the edge of the lake. “Now, come on. Let’s reintroduce you to Tumbleweed, then we can start thinkin’ this thing through.”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

Short chapter this time around, due to me being busy with moving from New Jersey back to Pennsylvania. Also, the macros for my dice-rolling bot broke, so that'll be fun to figure out later. Just can't catch a break, right?

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 85

Roughshod: 16 Votes

Trixie: 15 Votes

Snapshot: 9 Votes

After a moment to think about it, Kestrel realized the first two were obvious choices. “Rough and Trixie will make perfect distractions,” she said. “Trixie’s a professional con artist, even if she don’t use them words exactly, and Rough’s a big loud bastard. Ain’t a more perfect pair of fools to go cause a scene where one’s needed.”

“And the third?” Tumbleweed asked.

“Send Snapshot with them,” Kestrel said. “He’s best at range, and if he gets set up on a rooftop somewhere, he can raise hell with one of our scoped rifles. They’ll need him more than we do if they’re bringin’ down the wrath of the Pinks on themselves.”

Tumbleweed rubbed his chin in thought but ultimately nodded in agreement. “Right, and Snapshot might be a quick draw, but we won’t need his rifles inside of the conference. Revolvers’ll cover that just fine.”

“You and me together are as good of a shot as he is,” Kestrel also added. “Though hopefully we ain’t gonna need to shoot our way out of the conference once we start the robbery, but I ain’t gonna be naïve enough to think that’s possible.”

“Trouble is to be expected,” Starlight chimed in. “Especially when we have a message to get across.”

“So long as we ain’t murderin’ folks unnecessarily, then we’re fine,” Tumbleweed said. “You want us to shoot fat cats for the hell of it, I ain’t gonna let that fly. We’re in it for the money, not for some bloody crusade against those on the top. We might be outlaws, but we ain’t bandits.”

Starlight raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware there was a distinction.”

“The same kind of distinction that exists between your political philosophy and all the other ones that’re around that mark on the left.”

“Point taken.” Starlight shook her head and took a few sips of her beer. “I suppose you have a target in mind for the distraction, then?”

“Best I’ve got is the hotel I think the Pinks are stayin’ at,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “Didn’t have a chance to investigate it further to know for sure, but I saw a bunch of Pinks go into there the other day, and they were movin’ some kinda cargo inside. Might be valuable, whatever it is, and might be important enough to draw the Pinks’ attention back to it.”

“It don’t matter much how valuable it is, we just need the Pinks to think that we’re there in force,” Tumbleweed said. “Distraction team’ll have to be loud, that’s for sure. Might be able to have them stage a hotel robbery that we ain’t all that committed to. Nothin’ like real crime to bring on the Pinks, and if the real money’s at this conference, then we don’t need ‘em riskin’ life and limb for pocket change. As soon as they get the Pinks’ attention, they can bail. We’ll just need to time things perfectly.”

Kestrel took a few gulps of her beer and nodded, turning those words over in her head. “Well, we got that settled, then. That’s good,” she said. “That leaves me, you, Silvie, and Wanderer, plus Starlight and her second to take on the conference. I think that’s doable.”

“So long as the distraction works, anythin’s doable,” Tumbleweed assured her. “Though it’s best to figure out exactly what we’re tryin’ to do ‘fore we set out to do it.”

“Well, Starlight gave me the rundown earlier.” Kestrel turned to Starlight and gestured with a wing. “You wanna fill in Tumbleweed on what you told me at the bar?”

“It should be pleasing enough,” Starlight said. “The Apples are showing off a valuable, one-of-a-kind machine inside of their big auction tent on Friday. I don’t know what the machine is, but it’ll be powered by rare crystals. Expensive crystals. If you find a good fence for them, you’d be able to turn a handy profit, I’d imagine.”

“Tryin’ to sell things after you stole ‘em, ‘specially one of a kind things, ain’t always the most straightforward of deals,” Tumbleweed said. “Anythin’ else?”

“Well, it’s taking place in the auction tent, so you can imagine what that means,” Starlight said. “They’re going to be auctioning the thing off after they display it, which means that there will be a lot of wealthy ponies in that tent, with fat wallets at their sides. If you work the crowd, you can probably get several thousand bits in bills alongside that machine.”

Tumbleweed thought about that for a moment, then slowly smiled. “I like the sound of that,” he said. “We can pull ten, maybe twenty thousand out of this if we’re lucky. That’ll get us about halfway to gettin’ enough cash to scram and start a new life for ourselves somewhere else.”

Kestrel let her mind wander a bit as she imagined starting a new life someplace overseas, whether that was in the griffon Confederacy or on some tropical island like the Caymares. Was starting over again even possible for hardened outlaws like herself? Robbing, stealing, and killing were all she’d known for the past twenty-some years. Could a mare just shake that off with a new life and a few thousand bits to her name?

Starlight and Tumbleweed continued their conversation in the meanwhile, oblivious to Kestrel’s thoughts. “Goin’ about the business is goin’ to be the hard part, though,” Tumbleweed thought aloud. “There’s only six of us, and even if the distraction is successful, there’s likely to be some sort of security still present in the tent to protect against miscreants like ourselves. Way I see it, we can go in loud, we can go in quietly, or we can try and disguise ourselves as some of the security and staff and be in position for when the distraction kicks off. Each way’s got its own risks, though.”

The three ponies took a moment to pause and think about which approach would suit them the best.

Kestrel, Tumbleweed, Silver Wings, Wanderer, Starlight, and Starlight’s Lieutenant will perform the job at the conference while the distraction team draws away security.

Loud and guns blazing. If we storm the tent and surprise the security inside, we can get ‘em all taken care of ‘fore they can even react. The gunfire might draw attention back to the tent, though, and we’d only have a short time to make things happen before the Pinks muster a response.

Silently dispatch security. If we can sneak through the tent and the conference grounds, we might be able to knock out all the security and then take the tent without havin’ to fire a shot. ‘Course, the risk there is in gettin’ caught before everypony’s taken care of, then havin’ to seize the tent when they know we’re comin’.

Infiltrate the conference. If we can seize some uniforms before Friday, we can disguise ourselves as part of the security and conference staff, and get ourselves control over the tent without havin’ to fight anypony. However, if they notice that uniforms are missin’ or we get caught snoopin’ around before Friday or, Celestia forbid, we get recognized while wearin’ those uniforms ‘fore the auction, then the plan’s over ‘fore we can even make a move on the tent.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 86

Infiltrate the conference: 9 Votes

“We should try to work somethin’ with disguises and the like,” Kestrel said after giving it some thought. “The longer we can delay lettin’ anypony know what we’re up to, the more time we’re gonna have to work the tent over. Goin’ in loud’s a good way to let the Pinks know the distraction’s just a distraction, and sneakin’ about is risky in its own way if somepony notices us snoopin’ around. If we can disguise ourselves as part of the staff or security, then we have a chance of takin’ the tent for ourselves without anypony bein’ the wiser.”

“There are a lot of failure points to that plan, though,” Starlight cautioned her. “It requires more setup than the other two, and if we get found out during the setup, then the plan’s over.”

“It also affords us our best opportunity to make the most out of this job and leave with all of our heads on,” Tumbleweed countered. “The other two are similarly risky, even if they are simpler. I reckon you could call this the ‘go big or go home’ option.”

“Then let’s hope we don’t have to go home,” Starlight said. “Okay, sure, we’ll go with that. Now we need to figure out the logistics of it.”

“Well, what do we need?” Kestrel asked her. She fidgeted with the beer bottle between her hooves as she tried to put together a frame of the plan in her mind. “We just need security and service staff uniforms, right? Gettin’ a couple shouldn’t be too hard.”

Starlight shook her head. “Harder than you think, mostly likely,” she said. “I don’t know where the Apples would keep any extra uniforms, so that means we’ll need to take them from somepony. And if we take them from somepony, then we need to make sure that they can’t alert the Apples, and that nopony wonders where they are. And that’s all there is to it for the service staff, but if we go after security, then we’ll need to know where that pony was supposed to be posted and have our replacement cover for them in some way. It’s a lot of moving parts to keep track of.”

Kestrel nibbled on her lower lip as she took that all in. There was a lot to consider, that was true, but she still felt it provided the Gang the best opportunities to make things happen on Friday, assuming it could all be pulled off. “I don’t suppose we could just snag a few pink suits and ignore all the hubbub. I bet the Pinks can go anywhere they please.”

“If you think the Pinks ain’t gonna keep track of their numbers and patrols, Kessie, then you must have forgotten how they operate since we crossed paths with ‘em last,” Tumbleweed chastised her. “Gettin’ suits off of the Pinks ain’t an option for us, as temptin’ as it may be to take out a few of ‘em in the process. We’re best gettin’ a few uniforms from security and the conference staff to let us go where we please. We’ll need to cover six uniforms, most like, unless we got another way of workin’ around it.”

“I dunno,” Kestrel said, turning to Starlight. “You’re a trained mage, right? Know any better illusion spells than our resident magician?”

Does Starlight know any better illusion spells than Trixie? (Scholar: 8): No

To her disappointment, however, Starlight shook her head. “I was never particularly good at illusion magic,” Starlight said. “I have enough training and familiarity with it to recognize a bad illusion, but making a better illusion myself is much more difficult. I could certainly make something a little better than what she can do just because I’ve been trained more in the proper application of the spell, but I don’t have an illusionist’s cutie mark. My mark specializes around evocation and a little bit of transmutation, so those are primarily where I focused my education.”

Kestrel blinked. “Evil-what now?” she asked. “You’re gonna have to explain those to the dumb bird with wings.”

“Right,” Starlight said, though she finished off her beer and chucked it aside before beginning her explanation. “In laymare’s terms, evocation is the focus on using raw magical energy to create powerful spells. I can create focused magical energy with my horn that is strong enough to kill at range if I have to, and I can make it more lethal than firearms depending on how much magic I put into the spell. Transmutation allows me to alter reality in subtle ways, from manipulating the weather like pegasi can to even pausing time.”

Tumbleweed’s eyebrow rose at that. “You can stop time?”

“Pause time,” Starlight said with a shake of her head. “There is a difference. I can only allow myself to move outside of time for a few seconds from my perspective before I have to end the spell or risk greatly injuring my horn. Even still, it takes a lot out of me, so if you were hoping I could stop time for an hour so you all could pick the auction tent clean, I’m going to have to disappoint you right now.”

“That’s a shame,” Kestrel said, shaking her head. She could only imagine how much more effective so many of the Gang’s jobs could have been if they’d had the ability to manipulate time as they pleased. Unfortunately, Starlight had made it clear that wasn’t an option, but the possibility existed if they ever needed just a few seconds more in a pinch. “At least we got your other arsenal of spells to work with. Say, think you could teach our own magician some spells if you have the chance? Havin’ one unicorn that can help us out with useful spells is nice, but havin’ two would be even better.”

“Not now.” Starlight shook her head from side to side. “There isn’t time enough for that. It’s midday Wednesday, and realistically we only have Thursday to gather everything we need for the heist on Friday. I need to get my own ponies ready for what we’re planning, so I don’t have the time to be teaching a street performer who travels in a clown wagon.” She derisively pointed her hoof at Trixie’s gaudy purple and gold wagon and frowned. “Some unicorns make such a mockery of our greatest talents,” she grumbled to herself.

Kestrel and Tumbleweed shared a look, and Tumbleweed rolled his eyes. “Regardless, I think the point stands that we’ll need to take these uniforms tomorrow. We’ll need six, probably some mixture of staff and security. Best bet I figure it to take them tomorrow evenin’ as the place is closing down for the night.”

“I can have my ponies get them for us,” Starlight confidently stated. “It shouldn’t be too difficult. Nopony will expect any trouble when the conference is closing down for the night and all the important stuff is already packed away.”

“That’d be mighty kind of you if you did,” Tumbleweed said, “though I’m not sure if our dear Kessie here can bear lettin’ somepony else do all the work. She has a habit of involvin’ herself, ain’t you?”

Leave the conference preparations to Starlight and her ponies. No sense riskin’ the whole thing by having some of the Gang help her out with the conference. I don’t know how skilled her ponies are for somethin’ like this, but better her ponies than ours.

Accompany Starlight tomorrow. It’ll give me a chance to feel out the layout of the conference some, which could be valuable on Friday. It’ll also mean I’m showin’ my face around the conference, and if the Pinks figure out that the Gang’s interested in what’s happenin’ on Friday, ain’t no distraction gonna be able to pull ‘em off of it.

Handle this ourselves. I’d rather trust me and the Gang to get the uniforms than Starlight and her followers. The risks of bein’ spotted ain’t all that important when compared to leavin’ this job to ponies I trust. I at least know what we’re capable of; Starlight’s crew, less so.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 88

Silver: 8 Votes

After a moment to think about it, and thinking about what was to come in two days, Kestrel’s mind found its way back to the silver mare who looked up to her like a big sister. What she’d tried to pull late that one night had strained their relationship in some intangible way, and though neither mare had brought it up since it had happened, Kestrel still felt the air needed to be cleared regarding it. If there was a chance they were all going to die on Friday if the conference job went south, then she at least wanted to get that burden off of her chest.

It took a little bit to find Silver, though Kestrel wasn’t exactly in a hurry to do so. She had the entire afternoon to find the younger mare and share a few words, after all. Quickly poking her nose around the campsite failed to turn up the silver pegasus, so she started walking around the perimeter of the lake. Finally, she found Silver lying on her back on a sunny patch of grass, her hat pulled just low enough to keep the sun out of her eyes while she gazed at the clouds.

“Enjoyin’ yourself?” Kestrel asked, coming to a stop a comfortable distance away from the younger mare.

Silver jolted in surprise, her wings fanning and fluttering at her sides before she realized it was just Kestrel. “Oh, Kessie, you startled me,” Silver said, an embarrassed smile taking hold of her muzzle. “I was just takin’ things easy for a bit.”

“I can tell,” Kestrel said, striding closer and sitting down on the grass near Silver. She put on a teasing smirk and added, “So, what, you imaginin’ what it’s like to be a pony without any wings, watchin’ the clouds from below?”

“It ain’t as much work as flyin’ above ‘em and watchin’ ‘em from up high,” Silver said with a chuckle. “Nice and relaxin’, though the ground ain’t as comfortable as the clouds, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah.” After a moment, Kestrel spread out her wings and laid down on the ground next to Silver, likewise pulling the brim of her hat down to block out some of the sunlight that would be otherwise be shining into her eyes. She sighed with relief as her muscles relaxed and she splayed her limbs out, finally having a moment to enjoy some downtime and not have to worry about running here or there.

Though of course, that peace of mind didn’t last too long for Kestrel. She still had to talk about what she came here for, at any rate. So, working up the courage to bite the bullet, Kestrel cleared her throat after a few minutes. “So… Silvie, I wanted to talk to you ‘bout somethin’…”

Silver blinked in surprise and her shoulders tensed for a moment. “Oh… what’s that?”

“Just… y’know.” Kestrel awkwardly waved her wing, gesturing vaguely at the nothing above them. “Just that… other night. The thing that happened. Y’know?”

“Thing that—oh.” Silver’s cheeks began to burn red, and she coughed a few times to try and mask it. “I, uh… do we have to?”

“Listen, I just want to clear the air,” Kestrel said, turning her head to the side to look at Silver, who tried her best to avoid eye contact with Kestrel. “What I did was… inappropriate. I don’t know what got into me, but that weren’t the best way to go about that… or anythin’, I suppose. Maybe I was drunk or somethin’, I don’t rightly know. I just wanted to say sorry.”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh…” Silver scratched the side of her neck and fidgeted in place. “Apology… accepted?”

Painfully awkward silence hung in the air between the two mares, both too uncomfortable to look the other in the eyes. Eventually, it was Silver who broke the silence with a little cough. “Look, Kessie… I don’t really know what was goin’ on that night,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the clouds instead of on Kestrel. “I’m just gonna pretend you was out of your right mind or somethin’ like that. But I just wanna say…”

It seemed to take the younger mare a great deal of effort and courage to bring out her next words. “I hope you don’t feel anythin’ like that towards me. Because I don’t think I could reciprocate it. You… get what I mean?”

Kestrel sucked on the corner of her lip, remembering what Miss Irons had told her several nights back. Silver’s love for her simply wasn’t the romantic kind. It stung in a strange way Kestrel still hadn’t figured out, but it was the truth of the matter. “Yeah,” she finally said. “I get what you mean.”

“That’s… good.” Silver let out a deep breath and rolled herself onto her hooves. “I, uh, I think I’m gonna get a bite to eat or somethin’,” she said, scuffing a hoof along the ground. “I didn’t really get a chance to eat anythin’ since breakfast, since we was waitin’ for Starlight to come around. Do you… want anythin’?”

Kestrel shook her head. “No, but thanks for offerin’. Think I’m just gonna stay out here for a bit, ‘til dinnertime.”

“Ok.” Silver fluffed her wings, and after a few awkward steps left and right, she nodded to Kestrel. “See you later then, Kessie.”

“You too, Silvie.”

The younger mare took that as her cue to leave, trotting back around the perimeter of the lake and towards camp. Kestrel didn’t move for several minutes, and only when the world was quiet and still around her did she let out a long sigh.

She’d had her talk with Silver. She just didn’t know how to feel about it now, or where exactly she still stood with the younger pegasus.

Surrogate sisters. [THIS WILL END ALL FUTURE ATTEMPTS TO ROMANCE SILVER WINGS]

Just friends… at least for the moment.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 89

Surrogate Sisters: 17 Votes

Silver Wings is no longer a romanceable character.

After what felt like an eternity to think things over, Kestrel finally closed her eyes after making a decision and coming to peace with it. Chasing Silver Wings, a younger mare who thought the world of her and wanted to be just like her, wasn’t a realistic option. It was obvious Silvie saw her as a sister, and at the end of the day, Kestrel didn’t know if she could live with herself if she ruined that relationship because she was trying to fill that void in her heart. There was room for sisterly love in there too, and with Silver, that was all she’d be able to get.

Still, as Kestrel pulled the brim of her hat further down over her face, her lips drooped into a slight frown. As much as she hated to admit it, the loneliness was starting to get the better of her, especially now that the Gang was flirting more and more with death. It seemed like everywhere she looked, especially as of late, she could see the shadow of Death looming over them, and catch glimpses of His pale hoof out of the corner of her eye. It would be nice to have somepony to commiserate with in that more than just friendly fireside chats, but perhaps opening that can of worms was more trouble than it was worth, especially with all the baggage that would be left behind at the foot of the gallows.

Now she deeply regretted not taking the chance to talk with Highball back in Rock Ridge. Seeing him on the train, albeit briefly before her injuries stole her consciousness from her, had sliced open an old wound she thought had long since scarred over. A little bit of additional closure would have been nice, but the time for that had long-since passed.

Kestrel grumbled to herself as she let out a wide yawn. She was one of Equestria’s most wanted outlaws, a dangerous mare who could take anything she wanted by force, and she couldn’t even steal somepony’s heart to hold and cherish until the end of her days. There was a bitter irony in that somewhere, she was sure, but it would take a smarter pony than her to find it.

She wasn’t sure when exactly she dozed off, not that she was trying to keep track of it anyway. But with the sun overhead broken up here and there by clouds, and with a breeze coming off of the small lake, the weather was plenty comfortable for the outlaw to get some much needed rest. When she woke up next, the sun had traveled many degrees through the sky, and her coat had just started to get that warm, tingly feeling that precedes sweat. Yawning again, the mare rolled on her back, her legs pointed up to the sky and wings outstretched by her sides, and worked some of the stiffness out of her joints that her impromptu nap had worked into them. She was already feeling better; a nap had been much needed, it turned out.

She lingered a few moments more before she finally worked up the willpower to rise to her hooves. Dry grass clung to her clothing and mane, and she did her best to brush it out with her feathers before returning to the camp. She could hear the Gang’s voices filtering through the trees and across the lake, punctuated here and there by a bark of harsh laughter. Kestrel shook her head as she leisurely walked around the edge of the lake. It was a good thing they weren’t taking Roughshod to the conference; the stallion was nothing if not loud and boisterous, the last thing a pony would want for a discreet job.

When she returned to the camp, she saw Miss Irons and Wanderer working together to prepare supper, as they often did, while the rest of the gang had gathered around or near the campfire. Tumbleweed stood in the middle of them all, explaining the plan that he, Starlight, and Kestrel had put together earlier that afternoon, with a little input from Silver. The unicorn had sketched out an extremely simplistic map of the town in the dirt with a stick, and tapped the tip between different locations as he went over the plan as it currently stood.

“Now, while me and Kessie, Silvie, and Wanderer handle the job at the conference, we need another team to draw away the Pinks,” Tumbleweed said. The tip of the stick in his magical grasp tapped a square marked inside of the city limits. “Kessie went and found a hotel that we think the Pinks are stayin’ at yesterday. At the very least, somethin’ was bein’ moved into that hotel under their supervision, so it’s likely important to ‘em. That’s why we need to cause as big of a ruckus as possible there, to draw their attention away from the conference. If the Pinks know we’re up to somethin’ in town, my bet is that they thin out security around the conference to come after us. The Pinks hate us sure as we hate them, and the prize of catching Equestria’s most wanted outlaw gang might be enough to make them forget about the Apple Family’s purse for a moment. And a moment is all we need.”

Then he took the stick and pointed it at Roughshod and Snapshot, who were sitting side by side, and Trixie, who sat a little further away. “Now, Kessie and me talked it over with Starlight, and you three are the best ponies we could come up with for causin’ the distraction,” he continued. “We’re gonna need loud, and we’re gonna need flashy. I’m sure Rough and Trixie, you two can handle that. Snapshot, you need to get on a rooftop somewhere nearby and give them some cover when the shootin’ inevitably starts. It’ll be up to you to be their eye in the sky and keep ‘em safe.”

“Beatin’ up the Pinks?” Roughshod rubbed his hooves together and grinned. “Oh hell, I been waitin’ a long time to take a few shots back at ‘em. We owe ‘em some payback for chasin’ us across the San Palomino.”

Trixie seemed a fair deal less gung ho, to put it mildly. “You want Trixie to be target practice for the professional bounty hunters out trying to kill us?” she said, somewhat incredulously.

“Why not?” Tumbleweed said, smirking at her. “You don’t think the Great and Powerful Trixie is up to the task?”

Trixie flustered, her concerns caught in a clash with her ego, and neither all that willing to back down. “Trixie… is always up to any task,” the mare boasted, her ego finally triumphing over her hesitations. “So long as that task doesn’t involve ponies shooting at Trixie too much.”

“Well, I’m sure between the three of you and Starlight’s three friends, you’ll be able to figure somethin’ out,” Tumbleweed assured her. He gestured back at her colorful purple wagon. “Besides, the distraction doesn’t have to immediately devolve into gunslingin’. A performance by the Great and Powerful Trixie might be enough to get a crowd into position to kick things off.”

“Might even be able to stage a robbery of your show and your crowd,” Roughshod said, grinning at Trixie. Kestrel shook her head and rubbed her feathers to her brow when she realized that Roughshod’s expression was genuine, not predatory or hawkish like it usually was. It looked like Miss Irons was two for two on who like who in the Gang. “It’ll be a fun little song and dance between us.”

Trixie fidgeted in place, and Kestrel thought she saw a shiver run down the magician’s spine, but she wasn’t sure. “That… sounds like an excellent idea,” Trixie ultimately conceded.

“I got a question, though,” Silver asked, interjecting her voice into the conversation. “We got a Chatter gun, and we know there’s gonna be Pinks everywhere. Seems a shame to not use it. So who should get it? The distraction team, or the conference team? Could be a lifesaver to either one.”

“A good question,” Tumbleweed said, nodding as he pondered it. Then he looked to Kestrel, who up until this point had been hovering along the edge of the conversation. “What do you think, Kessie? Got some good ideas fresh from your nap?”

The conference team should have the Chatter gun. We’re gonna be the ones takin’ the score and fleein’ with it, so we’ll need a way to defend ourselves from anypony comin’ after us. We’d get the most use out of the Chatter gun than anypony else.

The distraction team should have the Chatter gun. Rough, Trixie, and Snapshot are gonna be bringin’ down the house on themselves. If they get the Pinks’ attention and get it good, then they’ll need all the help they can get to get outta Hoofston alive.

Leave the Chatter gun at the camp. This could very well turn into a run-for-your-lives situation, in which case the Chatter gun would only slow us down. Best to leave it at the camp for defense rather than risk losin’ it durin’ this job.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 90

Leave the Chatter gun at the camp: 8 Votes

“Well, to be quite honest, I reckon it’s best if neither takes it,” Kestrel said, earning a few raised eyebrows from the rest of the Gang.

“Leave our biggest gun here?” Roughshod asked in disbelief. “What’re you on, Kessie? Still a little tired from your nap?”

“That’s exactly the problem, the gun bein’ too big,” Kestrel explained, shifting her weight from one pair of hooves to the other. “The distraction team is gonna need to cause a ruckus and scoot outta there fast. The conference team is gonna need to snatch our haul quick as we can and scoot outta there fast, too. The only way we move the Chatter gun around is to mount it in a wagon or have Rough carry it around; it’s too damn heavy any of the rest of us to move it. And that’ll only slow us down if speed is what we’re after.”

“Pinks’re likely to be faster than us no matter what we do,” Roughshod countered. “You’re gonna be slowed down by the haul you take from the job. We’ll be slowed down by havin’ to find our way ‘round the city without gettin’ boxed in. I’d rather have the extra firepower to deal with the law comin’ after us than skedaddlin’ a little bit faster.”

Tumbleweed snatched a beer with his magic and popped off the cap as he listened to Kestrel and Roughshod go back and forth. But after taking a sip or two, he cleared his throat to contribute his own two bits. “I think Kestrel’s got the right idea ‘bout this one,” he said. “A little bit of speed could make a world of difference over a little extra firepower. Not only that, but if we bring the gun out on this job, we risk losin’ the thing altogether if things go sideways. We’ve been spendin’ a lot of time thinkin’ about the upcoming job, and rightly so, but we need to also think about what comes afterwards. I think we all know that the deal ain’t gonna be signed and sealed once we make it back here after the job. The Pinks’ll be real riled up that we pulled one over on ‘em, and the Apple Conglomerates ain’t gonna forget this one either. We’ll be kickin’ the hornets’ nest, and kickin’ it pretty hard, with what we’re doin’ on Friday. We might have to defend what we stole ‘fore everythin’s all said and done.”

“If we’re gonna be bringin’ that much heat down on ourselves,” Silvie began, eyes staring into the fire as she thought, “should we get set to get outta here when the job’s done? Hit the road ‘fore anypony can find us?”

Kestrel shook her head. “It’s too early to plan for that right now,” she said. “Lotsa things could change durin’ the job. Might be safer to sit in place for a day or two to let some heat cool off ‘fore we run. Might be that we’ve got to pack what we can and scram soon as we’re back. Might be that we have to sit tight and fight for our lives first ‘fore an openin’ presents itself to us.”

“But we’ll have plans for everythin’,” Tumbleweed interjected. “Plans might be made useless by extenuatin’ circumstances, but plannin’ itself is mighty useful. Now, regardless of what happens for our two teams, first thing we gotta make sure of is each team can look out for themselves. Rough, Snap, Trixie, soon as the three of you start drawin’ the Pinks back into town, get the hell outta there and get someplace safe. We’ll be startin’ our part of the plan a few minutes after the Pinks clear out of the conference so that we have a little wiggle room to work with, and then we’ll be fleein’ with what we can get ‘fore the Pinks can get back. We should find a safe spot to hunker down in and wait for some of the heat to clear up, then move to a meetup spot some ways away from the camp once it’s dark. That way we can group together and head back to camp in full strength in case there are Pinks about.”

“We ain’t done much explorin’ ‘round Hoofston to know of any real safe meetup spots, though,” Kestrel said. But then she turned to Trixie and raised an eyebrow. “Unless our wanderin’ magician’s been ‘round these parts before and knows somethin’?”

Is Trixie familiar with the area surrounding Hoofston (Scholar: 6+2 from Explorer): Yes

“I’ve been through here before, yes,” Trixie said. The magician shifted her weight into a more comfortable position on the stool. “It was quite some time ago, though I was planning on heading in this direction after my show in Rock Ridge. But yes, there are lots of good places we could hide around Hoofston until it’s dark. For the distraction team, we could go north out of Hoofston and hide around the abandoned quarry up there. It’s well out of the way and there’s lots of places to hide up there. Trixie thinks it would be very difficult for anypony to find us there if that’s where we went.”

“Well, that’s well and good, then,” Tumbleweed said with a nod. “I assume you can lead the others there on Friday when the time comes. Got any places for us at the conference?”

Trixie thought for a moment, then bobbed her head. “Mmhmm. The conference is southeast of the city, right? Well, if you keep going further to the south, there’s a river that cuts between the hills to the south and the plains to the east of the city. The ground gets really rough over there. It’d be a good place to lie low for a bit.”

“Then we’ll take your word for it,” Tumbleweed said. “Thank you, Trixie, for that.”

Kestrel noted that the praise seemed to make Trixie perk up a little bit. The magician might have been exceptionally worried about the Pinks and quite aggressively crossing the law and a lot of very powerful ponies, but helping to contribute to the Gang’s plans appeared to make her a little more confident. That was good; they needed Trixie to be confident before Friday if she was to perform to the best of her abilities.

Wanderer and Miss Irons walked over from the wagons, Wanderer carrying the stew pot in his wings while Miss Irons set a stack of tin bowls and spoons down on the ground next to the fire. The old pegasus set the pot on the hook over the fire and grunted, rolling his wings as he worked some of the tension out of his aging muscles. “I tell you, I’m almost about done with living it rough and on the law,” he said, smiling lazily at the rest of the Gang. “When can I retire? I’ve worked long enough to provide for you whippersnappers.”

“Maybe after Friday,” Tumbleweed said, gesturing for the old couple to sit down and join them. “Who knows how much we can bring in?”

“Not anywhere near enough, I can already feel it,” Wanderer said. “We’ll still need at least one more job after this if we want to get out of Equestria for good. I’m unfortunately all but certain of that.”

“Well maybe we’ll get lucky.” Then Tumbleweed raised his beer in his magic and toasted the Gang as they sat around the fire. “We’re a day and a half away from robbin’ some of Equestria’s fattest cats blind. Tomorrow, we’ll finalize a few things and be ready to go, but tonight, let’s relax and enjoy ourselves. This will likely be our last chance before we put the show on the road!”

A cheer went up from the Gang, and the crates of beer, whiskey, and gin were dragged out and opened up once again. Alcohol passed from one hoof to another as everypony grabbed a drink, and soon the music of Wanderer’s guitar filled the air.

Kestrel took a moment to pry the cork off of a bottle of whiskey and spit it onto the ground, tilting the amber glass back and taking a few straight gulps of the potent liquor. Tumbleweed was right; tonight would be her last chance to relax until after the job on Friday. She already knew the next night would be a tense one, a sort of calm before the storm moment. If there was anything she wanted to do during the more upbeat mood, then now was the time to do it.

Watch magic tricks with Trixie, Roughshod, Wanderer, and Miss Irons

Play drinking games with Tumbleweed, Silver, and Snapshot.

Take the night easy and see what Starlight and her friends have to say tomorrow.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 91

Watch magic tricks with Trixie, Roughshod, Wanderer, and Miss Irons: 6 Votes

Kestrel took a few minutes to herself to sip on her liquor and watch how the camp organized itself for the night before deciding where to move. Everypony first enjoyed the stew, the nightly staple of the Gang ever since Miss Irons joined the group, and filled out the time around it with friendly conversation and idle chit-chat. It was always a good way to wind down after the activities of the day, especially with something as tense as the conference job in the making, and was probably the thing that kept the Gang most grounded in reality. With the stress of living a life on the run constantly surrounding them, it was the simple things that kept them going.

As the meal began to end and ponies started getting antsy to do something else to pass the time before nightfall, Tumbleweed inevitably suggested playing a couple of hooves of cards, as he was wont to do. Roughshod and Trixie, however, weren’t that inclined to participate, and somehow the topic came up that Trixie was a traveling magician. Surely she’d have some magic tricks to show the Gang to pass the time? Though Trixie was hesitant at first, Wanderer’s gentle encouragement, and Roughshod’s not-so-gentle encouragement, managed to get her to reluctantly agree and set up the stage on the side of her wagon.

Figuring that seeing another of Trixie’s magic shows would be more interesting than playing cards with Tumbleweed, Silver, and Snapshot, Kestrel dragged over a stool and set it down at the end of the stage. At the very least, watching Trixie’s pull off her tricks would be more entertaining with alcohol in her than trying (and failing) to bluff her way through cards when the world started spinning.

Miss Irons and Wanderer sat side by side next to Kestrel, while Roughshod sat on Kestrel’s other side. Miss Irons’ usual stern look had been tempered with a raised brow of idle curiosity, while Wanderer gently strummed his guitar while they waited for Trixie to get ready. Kestrel noted that Roughshod seemed more interested in what was about to happen than she otherwise would have expected from the big stallion, but what she had recently learned about the stallion’s interest in the performer explained everything. Unfortunately for him, Kestrel knew that Trixie wasn’t going to step out onto the stage in socks and a slim dress like he was probably hoping for.

Finally, Trixie was ready, and she announced herself through the drawn curtains leading off of her wagon’s stage with all the flourish and fanfare she put into her real shows. “Fair gunslingers of the Tumbleweed Gang!” she began, launching into a modified version of the opening spiel she used in Rock Ridge. “Come one, come all, and prepare to be AMAZED by what you are about to see. Never before in all of Equestria has anypony ever seen such feats of magic and skill as what you are about to see today! From death-defying stunts, to feats of magic that would make Star Swirl the Bearded blush, to ancient arts thought forgotten for millennia, you will see it all! And now, raise your hooves in applause for the one, the only, the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Kestrel nearly fell off her stool as a cacophony of fireworks blasted out from the side of the wagon, rising up through the trees before exploding into colorful flourishes of light. The noise boomed through the copse and across the lake, and Roughshod let out a holler of surprise and excitement at what he saw. Trixie burst through the curtain at that moment, wizard’s hat slightly askew on her head and covering her horn, and her starry robe fluttering behind her. As she strutted out onto the center of the stage, Kestrel noted that the magician certainly didn’t lack confidence despite how hesitant she had been to even do this before the rest of the Gang. Of course, she didn’t pay too much attention to Trixie’s arrival; she was more concerned with making sure Trixie’s fireworks hadn’t set any of the trees around them on fire.

Miss Irons and Wanderer gave Trixie a little bit of applause, and Kestrel clopped her hooves together to join in. Trixie stopped at the edge of the stage and looked down at the four ponies gathered in front of her and grinned, her natural showmare’s instincts taking over. “A smaller crowd than the Great and Powerful Trixie is used to, but it will do!” she proclaimed. “Especially since Trixie didn’t have time to think about what she was going to do beforehoof, so we’ll just have to wing it tonight!”

Her magic pulled out a deck of cards, which she shuffled together so quickly that Kestrel couldn’t keep track of them. Then, fanning the cards out with the backs toward her own face, Trixie pushed them out to Kestrel. “Let’s start with something simple, shall we? Go ahead and pick a card, any card! Using nothing but her own skill, Trixie will guess your card and make it appear before your very eyes!”

Shrugging, Kestrel leaned forward and plucked a card from the fan with the feathers of her wingtip. “Now, look at your card, but keep it a secret!” Trixie instructed her. “And let Trixie know when you are ready!”

“If’n you say so,” Kestrel drawled, looking at the card. Seven red diamonds greeted her, and she lowered the face toward the ground. “You want it back now?”

“If you would,” Trixie said, and Kestrel slotted the card back into the deck at random. Once again, Trixie shuffled the cards with impressive speed, before drawing one out seemingly at random. “Is… this your card?” she asked, showing Kestrel the four of clubs.

“Err… no,” Kestrel said with a shake of her head. Wanderer snickered off to the side.

Trixie, for whatever reason seemed unfazed. “How about this one?” she said, pulling out the two of hearts. When Kestrel again shook her head, Trixie laughed and tossed the cards into the air, where they fluttered off the stage and to the ground. “Oh, of course, you’re hiding it from Trixie,” Trixie said, and her magic pulled Kestrel’s hat off of her head. Kestrel tried to grab it but was too slow, and when Trixie gave it a vigorous shake, at least a dozen seven of diamonds fell out of it. “Are any of these your card?”

“I… yeah,” Kestrel said, scratching her head in confusion. “How’d you…?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” Trixie proclaimed with a flourish and a bow. She tossed the hat back onto Kestrel’s head, where it landed crookedly, while Roughshod, Miss Irons, and Wanderer all gave her impressed applause. Even a hoot and holler from Tumbleweed and Silvie joined in, where the card sharks had taken a moment out of their game to watch what was happening up on the stage. “And that was just a fraction of the Great and Powerful Trixie’s power! Only a simple card trick! She can do so much more!”

“Can you make Roughshod disappear?!” Silvie shouted from the card table. “I think that’d make all our lives better!”

That earned a chorus of laughs from the gang, even Roughshod himself. “I’d like to see you try!” he shouted up at Trixie. “I ain’t gotten rid of that easily!”

Trixie smirked back at him. “A matter of trivial talent for the Great and Powerful Trixie! Step up onto the stage and observe!”

Roughshod rose to the challenge, hopping onto the stage with a bound and shaking the wagon it was attached to. Silvie put her hooves into her mouth and shrilly whistled, while everypony else laughed and guffawed. Kestrel took a couple of deep swigs from her bottle of whiskey and leaned forward on her seat, waiting to see just what sort of tomfoolery Trixie was about to pull on them all.

“Stand right here, Rough,” Trixie said, directing Roughshod to the center of the stage. Then, walking around him once as if to fully survey the stallion, she paused in front of him and raised an eyebrow. “So, big fellow? Any last words before you disappear?”

The stallion laughed back at her. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

“We’ll see about that.” With a flash of magic, Trixie tossed a blanket on top of Roughshod, and the stallion fought against the cloth for a few seconds out of surprise. Then Trixie turned back to the rest of the Gang. “Say goodbye, everypony!”

A flash of her horn, and then to Kestrel’s surprise, the sheet on top of Roughshod collapsed as if the stallion under it suddenly disappeared. The blanket crumpled onto the ground, and when Trixie picked it up in her magic, only the bare wood of the stage remained where Roughshod once stood.

“She did it!” Silvie shouted. “The damn bastard’s gone! Ha ha ha!”

“About time,” Wanderer joked, and Kestrel couldn’t help herself but laugh. That laugh redoubled a moment later when the stage shifted and lifted up as Roughshod crawled out from under it, rubbing his jaw.

“Ow,” was all the earth pony had to say about the trick.

Trixie only apologetically smiled at the Gang. “Trixie didn’t say how long he was going to be gone for…”

Kestrel laughed hard and took a few more gulps of whiskey while she was at it. “Oh, I needed that,” she said, grinning. “I needed somethin’ like that, that’s for sure.”

“I think we all did,” Wanderer said. Then he turned back to Trixie. “Well? What else you got?”

“Oh, this is just the tip of the iceberg,” Trixie said. “We’re just getting started!”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 92

The rest of the evening passed quite quickly; Kestrel didn’t remember much of it after watching Trixie’s magic show. The gunslinger woke up on her side down by the lake, cheek caked with drying mud, and an empty bottle sticking out of the gently lapping water in front of her. Her head hurt, but it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to. Putting away an entire bottle of whiskey by herself at least once a week had built up her tolerance to the point that the hangover only bothered her until after lunch, though she still felt tired and slow the rest of the day. But at least today was Thursday, and she’d done her drinking last night. She doubted she’d have anything tonight other than a couple of sips before bed. She needed her mind sharp for the job tomorrow.

Groaning, Kestrel slowly forced herself onto her back, and then dragged herself into a sitting position. The camp was quiet and dead, save for Miss Irons and Wanderer sitting by a wagon and enjoying the day; everypony else was still sleeping off their alcohol, by the looks of things. That suited Kestrel just fine for the moment; the less she had to talk and listen, the better for her aching head. Hopefully she could avoid any conversation until after lunch.

The gunslinger grimaced and turned around, dunking her muzzle into the lake and taking several gulps of water straight from the source. It wasn’t the healthiest, she knew, but if she got cholera, at least it wouldn’t hit her until after the conference tomorrow. Besides, whatever residual alcohol was left in her system had to be enough to go kill any disease that got inside. That was how disease worked, right? She could have sworn she’d heard Wanderer or Tumbleweed talking about disease being caused by tiny little creatures getting into the body and causing a mess, or something like that…

She shook her head and turned away from the lake. Maybe she was still drunk, with thoughts like that. She could probably use another hour or two to sleep off the booze, but she was up now, so she might as well get the day started. An omelet or two would wake her right up, she was sure.

Venturing over to the chuck wagon, Kestrel dug through the back until she found a cast iron pan and a bundle of eggs tucked away in the shade inside. She tucked the pan under one wing and the eggs in the other, as well as some cheese and vegetables to make something simple, and trotted back toward the fire. Wanderer looked up and nodded to her as she passed, an amused smile on his face. “I was wondering if you were going to drown down there,” he teased her. “I woke up this morning and found you awfully close to the water. Too much to drink last night?”

“Somethin’ of the sort,” Kestrel mumbled with a shake of her head. “Figured I’d enjoy myself one last time ‘fore the Pinks gun us all down tomorrow.”

“Oh, don’t be a defeatist,” Miss Irons chastised her. “It doesn’t become you, Kestrel.”

“Whatever you say.” Kestrel left the two old lovebirds to their morning seclusion and made her way down to the fire pit. At least Wanderer had made a fire this morning, likely to brew the coffee he loved so much, even if it was dying down. Kestrel set the pan aside and grabbed a stick to stoke the flames, and once the orange tongues leapt up once more, snapping and crackling, she mixed together the ingredients for her omelet and set to work. The smell made her mouth water, and her stomach growled in anticipation of something that wasn’t alcohol.

The smell also seemed to draw out the flies—or at least Roughshod, who staggered over from the other end of the camp, his eyelids half-closed and his eyes bloodshot from the late night and alcohol. He grunted and sat down across from Kestrel, taking a big whiff of the smell of cooking eggs. “Makin’ breakfast for us, Kessie?” he asked her. “Make sure to put extra peppers in mine. Gotta have peppers.”

“Fuck off, Rough,” Kestrel growled. “You can make your own when I’m done with the damn thing. I ain’t your momma.”

“That’s a relief,” Roughshod said. “I ain’t sure I could stand bein’ related to you, Kessie.”

“The feelin’s mutual, big guy.” Kestrel grabbed a fork in her feathers and scraped her omelet off onto a tin plate, then tossed the scalding iron pan at Roughshod, who barely managed to leap out of the way before it touched him. “There. Go make your own.”

“Dumb broad,” Roughshod grumbled, walking away to grab his own ingredients from the chuck wagon. “You coulda burned me!”

“Just checkin’ to see if you were awake or not.” Kestrel said, and the gunslinger dug into her fresh breakfast once she gave it a minute to cool down. She already started feeling better with some food in her. Maybe she wasn’t half as bad a cook as she thought she was after all.

Little by little, the Gang started to wake up and the camp came to life, as the sleeping drunkards slowly roused themselves from wherever they’d passed out. Silver Wings wandered into the middle of the camp, her mane amess with little bits of twigs and leaves sticking out of it, and immediately went to go make herself some coffee, while Snapshot took a seat by the fire and immediately started cleaning his rifle, looking none the worse for wear. Kestrel didn’t know if the unicorn ever drank enough to get drunk or simply was immune to alcohol, because she could have sworn she’d seen him drinking at some point last night. One of these days, she really needed to pin the stallion down over a few drinks and get him to talk. Maybe she’d learn something interesting about the quiet unicorn.

Tumbleweed was one of the last to join the Gang by the fire, save for Trixie, who liked to sleep in normally, and probably wouldn’t be awake until lunch after drinking last night. The stallion grunted and tugged on the straps of his suspenders as he sat down near Kestrel, a hoof rubbing at his eyes. “That was somethin’ last night,” he said, chuckling lightly. “Good way to spend our last carefree night for the foreseeable future.”

“Hopefully there’ll be many more after the job,” Kestrel said. “Once we’re safe with the money, it’ll be time to go wild again.”

“And I’m lookin’ forward to such a time,” Tumbleweed agreed. “We just gotta get through things tomorrow. Now, Starlight said she and her friends would be ‘round tonight once they get the uniforms we need after the convention closes for the day. Guess that means we got some time to relax, get ready, do whatever you want ‘fore then. Last chance to enjoy some quiet time ‘fore the shootin’ starts tomorrow.”

“Don’t make it sound so final, boss,” Roughshod said. “We’re gonna stomp them Pinks and Apples. We’ll hit ‘em so hard they ain’t ever gonna be able to get after us, not for a good long while.”

“We can only hope so,” Tumbleweed said. “As for myself, I think I’ll spend the day doin’ some fishin’ down by the lake. Always was a good way to calm my nerves.”

“Might find somethin’ to beat my hooves into,” Roughshod said. “Unless somepony wants to come sparrin’ with me for a few rounds. I promise I won’t rough you up too much.”

Silver held up her hooves and shook her head. “That ain’t for me, Rough,” she said. “Think I’m just gonna fly ‘round some. Be the best way to get my thoughts in order and just enjoy the skies ‘fore the chaos tomorrow.”

“Aww, don’t be a foal,” Roughshod teased her. “You look like you need a few lessons in good ol’ fashioned brawlin’.” When Silver shook her head some more, Roughshod looked at Kestrel. “Well, Kessie? What ‘bout you?”

Focus on recovering from the hangover.

Practice target shooting with Snapshot.

Spar with Roughshod.

Help Miss Irons clean things up around the camp.

Go for a walk with Wanderer.

Take a flight and hunt for thermals with Silver.

Go fishing with Tumbleweed.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 94

As the day wore on, Kestrel found herself sitting with her back to a tree, waiting for the sun to go down with a cigarette in her mouth. Her ears still rang faintly from the several rounds of target practice with Snapshot, but at least listening to the birds chatter and sing around the lake helped dull the tinnitus. Coupled with the quiet chatter from the camp behind her, it was almost enough to make her fall asleep. Almost.

Kestrel and Snapshot roll Gunslinger to determine who won the shooting contest.

Kestrel: 9

Snapshot: 10

Snapshot has won the shooting contest.

She grumbled as a wingtip fidgeted with the revolver by her side. It certainly hadn’t been her best performance with a firearm as of late, but it was good to shake some of the rust off, even if she still lost. She probably needed to get more practice; surprisingly, she hadn’t had a reason to fire her revolvers yet since coming to Hoofston. But that was almost assuredly going to change tomorrow, unless things went off without a hitch…

Kestrel scoffed to herself. Wishful thinking, that’s for sure. But hopefully the Gang had done enough things correctly that they could mitigate their chances for an utter disaster. After all, they’d each spent the week doing whatever they figured they needed to do to get a little luck on their side. Hopefully that would account for something tomorrow, right?

A quiet supper came and went; nopony really seemed all that interested in sharing small talk or finding something to laugh and joke about. A tense cloud of trepidation had settled over their heads. The conference had to be ending about then, and that meant Starlight and her followers were on deck for getting the uniforms the infiltration team needed. All their plans hung in the balance, waiting for the success or failure of a mare who they barely knew. Kestrel hated the feeling of being helpless, but all they could do was wait.

The sun crept lower in the sky, first touching the western horizon, then slowly sinking beneath it. Kestrel watched it from her tree by the lake, watched it until it disappeared, and the orange glow of the dying day slowly succumbed to the midnight blue of the night. She cleaned her revolvers in silence and checked her ammunition for any faulty rounds. The last thing she needed tomorrow was a dud round in a critical situation, and after the problems both she and Snapshot had earlier that day, dud rounds were suddenly at the forefront of her mind.

Maybe with some of the money she pocketed from the job she’d go buy some griffon rounds, if she could find them. Snapshot did say they were the highest quality lead one could get, after all…

A whistle from the far end of camp perked her ears, and she looked over to see Snapshot standing near the trees that went toward the road. Tumbleweed trotted over to share a few words with him, and then the two went toward the road. Grunting, Kestrel stood up and shook some of the dried grass out of her coat and clothes before leisurely cantering back toward camp. It seemed like Starlight and her crew had arrived. Hopefully the news was good.

All eyes in the camp were on the ponies making their way back through the tree line. Tumbleweed and Snapshot led the way, along with Starlight, who was followed by an assortment of ponies behind her. Some had weapons visible on their persons, while others didn’t. Still, they all had that same spark of fervor in their eyes that Starlight had, and Kestrel had no doubt in her mind that they were just as fanatic about their revolution as their leader was. Not for the first time, Kestrel wondered if this was really a political movement or just some kind of poor ponies’ cult.

“So?” Kestrel asked them as they approached. “How’d it go? Go off without a hitch, I hope?”

Did Starlight and her gang have any difficulties acquiring the uniforms? No

“Simple as it could have been,” Starlight said, and her magic snatched a neatly-folded security uniform from the back of one of her followers. “We found a bunch of them going to a bar to drink after the conference was over. Once my allies separated them from the other patrons, I used a sleeping spell to neutralize them. They shouldn’t wake up until tomorrow night, and by then, the conference job will be long done.”

“Notice anythin’ different about the conference while you were out there?” Tumbleweed asked her. “Anythin’ change?”

Has the situation around the conference changed since Wednesday? No

“Not that I could tell,” Starlight said. “Everything seemed much the same. Most of the security is still being managed by local police or security at the Apple Family plants in the city, bolstered here and there by a hoofful of PPDA enforcers. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky that despite their obscene wealth, the Apples aren’t willing to pay for more than twenty or so of Pinkie Pie’s enforcers to keep their conference safe.”

“That don’t mean they ain’t brought more Pinks to the city of their own volition,” Kestrel cautioned. “They know we’re around here. I’d be surprised if a few more ain’t shown up on trains since the beginning of the week.”

“We’ll worry about that when we see how many of ‘em the distraction team is able to draw away,” Tumbleweed said. Then he nodded to Starlight. “How’s about you introduce us to the rest of your friends, in the meanwhile? We’ll be workin’ pretty close together, tomorrow. Wanna make sure everypony knows each other’s names.”

“Right.” Starlight took a step to the side and pointed her hoof at each pony in turn. “This is Double Diamond; he’s my right hoof,” she said, pointing to a white unicorn standing closest to her. Then she gestured at a pegasus, a unicorn, and an earth pony in turn. “Then there’s Night Glider, Sugar Belle, and Party Favor. The five of us together have been the nucleus for political reform throughout Equestria. I couldn’t have gotten this far without them.”

Each of Starlight’s compatriots bowed or waved as she called out their names, and Tumbleweed nodded as well. “Right, then. We’ll getcha introduced to everypony here ‘round the fire. Least, my name’s Tumbleweed, and this is Kestrel,” he said, pointing to Kestrel. “We’re the two that make most of the decisions ‘round here. Has Starlight filled you in on our plan?”

Double Diamond nodded an affirmation. “She explained it to us yesterday,” he said. “I’m going to be leading our part of the distraction team. Party Favor is going to stay with Starlight in case you need any earth pony strength, since it seems that’s what you’re lacking at the moment for the conference team.”

“That’s a good way to cut it, then,” Tumbleweed said. “Miss Glider can be the wings that the distraction team doesn’t have, then. I think this’ll work out perfectly.”

“Right,” Starlight said, and she gestured for the rest of her followers to lay out the uniforms they’d gathered. “Well, there’s going to be six of us at the conference, so we made sure to get six uniforms. We got four service staff uniforms and two security uniforms. I’ll take one of the service staff uniforms; I’m not exactly security material.”

“And I’m not wait staff material,” Tumbleweed said. “That leaves one security uniform and three service staff outfits between Kestrel, Silvie, Wanderer, and Party Favor.” He looked to Kestrel. “Well, number two? What’d you prefer?”

Security. I’d make a much more convincin’ security staffer than I would on the wait staff. I don’t think my drawl and mannerisms’ll suit me well for service staff.

Service staff. Security’s likely to be much more scrutinized by the ponies runnin’ the thing than the service staff will be. Service ponies are practically invisible to the big wigs; best place to put a wanted outlaw like myself.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 95

Security: 9 Votes

It didn’t take Kestrel much thought to pick the role that best suited her. “I ain’t nothin’ like what them Apples expect from their wait staff,” she said, snatching up the remaining security outfit with her wings. “I think I’ll do much better standin’ around, holdin’ a gun, and bein’ all menacin’ like.”

“Awww,” Silver pouted as she took one of the wait staff uniforms. “I wanted to play security…”

“You’ll look better in that plain service uniform, little lady,” Wanderer assured her, taking one for himself as well. “You’re not quite as grizzled as our two illustrious leaders are. You don’t exactly throw off that menacing security vibe, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I do,” Silver grumbled, but she nevertheless unfolded the uniform and held it against her chest to check its size. “This oughta fit, though I’ll have to cut some slits in the back for my wings. Ain’t no way in Tartarus I’m spendin’ this whole ordeal stuck on the ground.”

“Good idea,” Tumbleweed said. “We might need you and Kessie in the skies ‘fore this whole thing’s done and over with. Maybe get Miss Irons to hem in the slits a little bit once you cut ‘em out. Slashed fabric’ll draw curious eyes.”

Silver nodded and trotted off, tossing the uniform over her back. “Yeah, reckon that’s a good point. I’ll get it taken care of, don’t worry!”

Kestrel watched her go, then looked at her own uniform. Thankfully, it already had wing slits in the back, though it looked a little large for her. “Pull this off an earth pony, Starlight?”

“We didn’t really have much choice in who we went after,” Starlight said, shrugging. “Though that brings me to something I figured we should discuss. Obviously, my team and I didn’t spend the day at the conference shadowing what ponies were working where, so as not to draw attention to ourselves. That means we don’t know where the ponies we took these uniforms from were supposed to be tomorrow. I think it’s too much to hope that all of them just happened to conveniently be assigned to the auction tent tomorrow.”

“Right,” Tumbleweed said, folding up his uniform and resting it on his back for the moment. “So that means we’re likely gonna need to talk our way around tomorrow.”

“At least for the two of you, yes,” Starlight said. “The four of us that will be on the wait staff can likely get to where we need to go without too much trouble. And if there is trouble, I can talk us out of it. We should be fine.”

“Well, that’s good.” Tumbleweed gestured for Starlight and her posse to come closer into the Gang’s camp and sit around the fire. Then, dragging some stools away with his magic, Tumbleweed gave a fire poker to Starlight and pointed to the dirt. “Well, now that we got our uniforms taken care of, how’s about we plan out our attack tomorrow. Go on and sketch us up a layout of the conference, would ya?”

“Very well.” Starlight’s blue magic took hold of the poker and she started to scratch lines into the dirt. “The whole conference is spread out along one long thoroughfare that runs through it like a circle,” she said, drawing a circle and then scratching in a few lines inside and outside of it. “The auction tent and some of the more important things are in the very center, here,” she said, drawing a few rectangles inside of the circle. “The smaller tents around the periphery are more trivial things. Food, simple displays, information, even a few carnival games to make it fun for the whole family. There’s not going to be a lot of attention on the outside of the thoroughfare, but the tents on the inside of the circle are a different matter altogether.”

Tumbleweed thought that over for a moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied. “If security’s light on the outside, then that means we ain’t gonna have much trouble gettin’ into the conference,” he said. “And once we’re inside the conference and have our disguises on, ain’t nopony gonna question whether or not we should be there. Gettin’ to the auction tent, though, that might be the tricky part.”

“Yeah. Any noise we make at the auction tent’s gonna be heard throughout the entire conference,” Kestrel said. “At least we’re tryin’ to do this as quietly and quickly as we can.”

“We just gotta hope that the distraction’s good enough to draw the Pinks away; they’re the only things we really gotta worry about.” He looked to Roughshod and Trixie. “I trust you two have a plan in place?”

“As much as a plan as Trixie could come up with, given the unknowns involved,” Trixie said. “Trixie will use her stunning displays outside of the hotel to gather the attention of everypony nearby, after which Roughshod and the rest of Starlight’s group that is helping us will stage a robbery on the hotel. If that is where these Pinks are really staying, it should get their attention almost immediately.”

“We’ll hope for the best, then,” Tumbleweed said. “I don’t think you’ll be served best by using disguises, either, now that I think about it. The Pinks need to recognize Rough at least if we’re really gonna drag ‘em down. But that brings up an interestin’ question for the rest of us.”

He turned back to Kestrel and Starlight. “We’ve been runnin’ ‘round Hoofston using disguises to stay clear of the law and the Pinks, but Kestrel’s little run in with a pair of Pinks earlier this week showed us that they can sniff out illusions. Now, I ain’t sure just how good they are at findin’ the magic of an illusion in a crowd, but I bet my lucky horseshoes that they’re gonna be on the lookout considerin’ just how big this conference is gonna be, paired with the fact they know we’re here near Hoofston. The question I have now, given that we ain’t got a better alternative to Trixie’s magic, is whether or not we disguise ourselves with her magic before moving into the conference, or we do our best to hope that our uniforms and a little mane and tail stylin’ is enough to get us by ‘til we’re ready to spring?”

“If anypony is looking out for illusions, they’ll be able to sense the magic from thirty, maybe forty feet away,” Starlight said. “Only if they’re trained to sense it, though, but it sounds like the PPDA detectives have that training. Once they catch ahold of that magical trail, they’ll be able to follow it back to the source in a minute or two.”

“But not hidin’ our faces means that we could get spotted by ponies that recognize us,” Tumbleweed countered. “I ain’t seen many wanted posters for us around Hoofston, but that don’t mean they ain’t there. Do we just hope that our uniforms are enough to make sure that nopony pays us much mind ‘til we’re ready to go, or do we risk drawin’ out the Pinks and makin’ the whole distraction effort moot by usin’ magic to hide our looks?”

Use Trixie’s illusions to disguise ourselves. The risk of gettin’ spotted by random passers-by outweighs the risk of drawin’ over a few Pinks. Let’s just try to lower the chance of gettin’ recognized until we’re ready to go.

Go without Trixie’s illusions and trust the disguises. If we use Trixie’s magic, the Pinks ain’t even have to see us to know we’re about. Sure, it’ll keep us safe from the average pony, but if a Pink catches wind of our magic, they’re gonna follow it ‘til they sniff us out, and we might not even have the benefit of knowin’ they’re comin’.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 96

Go without Trixie’s illusions and trust the disguises: 9 Votes

“Magic’s a beacon that’ll draw them Pinks to us,” Kestrel said, thinking things through. “Our whole purpose grabbin’ the disguises and movin’ ‘round the conference with ‘em was to make sure that nothin’ draws attention to us. Goin’ with our faces exposed means that we won’t have the Pinks after us, not unless we get close enough for them to recognize us face to face.”

“But what about everypony else?” Silver asked. “If we got our faces exposed, then somepony might recognize us.”

“There’s a chance,” Kestrel admitted. “But I don’t think it’s gonna be a big one. We’ll be wearin’ security and wait staff uniforms, right? Ain’t gonna be a pony in the crowd who’s gonna look at us closely, expectin’ to see an outlaw under the getup. So long as we don’t give nopony reason to look at us, then we ain’t gonna be under any suspicion.”

At that, though, Starlight pointed to Kestrel’s wings. “You might want to cover those up, though,” she said. “You have a remarkably striking feather patterning for a pegasus. If anypony is familiar with you, they’ll recognize who you are as soon as they see the dappling on your wings.”

Kestrel extended one of her wings and gave it a look over. She’d always considered her wings as a point of pride, but she’d been on the run from the Law long enough to know that they made her perhaps a little too recognizable. Her wings were brown like the rest of her body toward the crests, but the feathers soon shifted to gray with black dappling spots intermixed in them towards the tips. Where most pegasi had wings that were a solid color, or at the very most a faint gradient toward the wingtips, the unique speckling and mixture of three colors on her wings gave her an appearance that would stand out anywhere.

As much as she hated it, she nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep my wings contained under the uniform,” she said. “Least until we start the job. If needs be, I’ll have my knife on me to go cut open some wing slits in a pinch. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Least, that’s what I’m hopin’.”

“Good,” Starlight said, nodding. “Then do we have a plan for moving about the conference? The auction is happening at noon inside of the central tent. We should be in position shortly before then.”

“Right.” Tumbleweed tapped the center tent scratched into the dirt with a stick. “Let’s try to be there, say, ten minutes ‘fore the auction is supposed to start. That’ll give us time to look the place over and get into position. We can also try to lie to any other security ponies or wait staff inside the tent to get them to go someplace else. I reckon Starlight and me can handle that. Anypony that we can’t move, Kestrel, I want you and Silvie to deal with. Quietly. Make sure you two have some rope on yourselves for tyin’ anypony up that needs tyin’. There’ll probably be a few.”

“I can probably fit some in under this wait staff uniform,” Silver said, lifting it up with a wingtip. “It’s gonna be a little bit big on me anyway.”

“Good. I’ll leave the actual details up to the two of you. Now, assumin’ everythin’ goes well, we’ll be in place ‘round the perimeter of the tent as the auction starts.” He then turned to Roughshod and Trixie. “Rough, you all on the distraction team should kick things off at noon, sharp. We’ll give you ten, fifteen minutes to make enough of a fuss to draw Pinks away from the conference. Once that’s done, and we got the auction house secure, we’ll make our go at it.”

He pointed toward Wanderer and Party Favor. “Wanderer and Favor, you two’ll make sure nopony leaves the tent. Can’t have anypony runnin’ off and raisin’ the alarm. Kessie and Silvie, you two work the crowd down for money. Starlight and me’ll take a look at what this grand auction prize is supposed to be. If we need your help movin’ it, we’ll call you over.”

“Hopefully we ain’t gonna have to move it,” Kestrel said. “If it’s big and cumbersome enough that we can’t just smash and grab, then we ain’t gonna get very far with the damn thing ‘fore the Law or the Pinks are on us.”

“At the very least, there should be gemstones you can pry out of it,” Starlight said. “I’m sure you can take care of that, Tumbleweed. I, on the other hoof, need to make sure the word of the revolution spreads across the tent loud and clear. The fat cats need to hear that their time is coming, and the workers of the world need to hear it too. Something that will generate as much publicity as this stunt will make ponies near and far realize that they can be free from the brutal capitalists that keep them held down.”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed shared a look, though neither mustered the energy to say anything or shake their heads at the revolutionary fervor. They needed Starlight and her cronies for this job just as much as they needed the Gang. Maybe when things were over, they’d talk about it more and maybe cut ties. Or maybe not. Depending on how things went, Starlight and her friends could prove to be massively useful allies for the Gang, allowing them to tackle jobs that would be far too risky for just seven or eight ponies alone…

But that was for the future, not for the present. Right now, the Gang needed to focus on making sure that they could rob from the richest ponies in Equestria, protected by the most ruthless detective agency in Equestria, and escape with their lives. If they couldn’t even do that… then, well, the future was irrelevant to them, because they’d all be buried six feet under—if they were lucky.

A few last details were hashed out, but Kestrel let her mind wander by the end. By then, all she was interested in was making sure her belly was full and finishing off a beer to settle herself before bed. There wasn’t much in the way of talk that night—they’d done all their talk and chatter the night before—and she forced herself to go to bed early. After all, she needed to be well rested knowing what was to come tomorrow.

It took her longer than she would have liked to finally fall asleep, but fall asleep she finally did.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 97

Despite her best efforts to get some sleep, Kestrel soon found herself up well before the dawn. No matter how much she tried to go back to sleep, she simply couldn’t. Instead, after another half hour of tossing and turning to no avail, Kestrel sighed, grunted, and slipped out of bed. Might as well get an early start to the day, she supposed.

It seemed like the rest of the Gang was having a better time sleeping than Kestrel was; she was the only one of them up and about for the moment. But that was fine by her. It gave her the time she needed to prepare herself for the day ahead. She knew the Gang would need a whole lot of luck to pull this job off, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find ways to make her own luck. So she cleaned her weapons to a spotless shine, inspected her ammunition as best she could, and set about preparing coffee and breakfast for everypony else once they started waking up. Starlight and her four accomplices had set up their temporary accommodations on some long grass at the side of the camp, where the trees gave them some shelter from the sky overhead and the grasses served as an acceptable alternative to laying on hard ground. Even they seemed to be getting their rest.

Kestrel shrugged as she set the coffee pot over the fire. One way or another, she’d get all the sleep she needed after today. She just hoped it wouldn’t be under a blanket of dirt.

As the sun came up, the camp slowly started to come to life. A tense air hung over them all like a cloud about to storm, and nopony was quite in a talkative mood. The most a few ponies managed was a curt greeting or a word of thanks as they took their breakfast from the fire, and everypony ate in silence. That uncomfortable silence persisted until just before nine o’clock, when Tumbleweed stood up and cleared his throat.

“Alright, everypony,” he said, eyes glancing from one pony to the next. “We got three hours to go ‘fore this auction gets started. I reckon it’s time we start headin’ out.”

Kestrel nodded. “Everypony goin’ to the conference, stuff your uniforms in a bag or somethin’ ‘til we get a bit closer. Don’t want to raise suspicion ‘bout what a bunch of conference workers are doin’ way out here away from Hoofston, ‘specially shen we should be there already.”

“Good idea,” Tumbleweed agreed. He turned to Trixie, Roughshod, and Snapshot. “You three, and the other three goin’ with you, make sure you head into town separate. Anypony see you together ‘fore you pull off the distraction, it ain’t gonna be as believable. You may not get the response we want outta the Pinks and the Law. Remember, make sure to start it off at noon sharp. We’ll be countin’ on the noise pullin’ the Pinks away from us so we can make our own move.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie will not let you down,” Trixie proclaimed, proudly puffing out her chest. “She will have all the simpletons of Hoofston wrapped around her hooves, mesmerized and in awe of my feats of magic!”

“And then I’ll start crackin’ skulls together!” Roughshod smashed his hooves together and grinned. “Might even get to pocket some change for myself ‘fore the Pinks show up. A little bit off the top ain’t hurt nopony.”

“Just make sure y’all are ready to skedaddle soon as you got the heat on you,” Tumbleweed said. “You’re the distraction team, but we don’t want you to get yourselves killed tryin’ to bring some heat down on ya. Get the Pinks’ attention, then make your way to safety. Are we all clear?”

The distraction team voiced their assurances that they understood their job, and Tumbleweed waved them along with his hoof. “Good. Now, start movin’ and gettin’ into position. It’s best we stagger our departures and arrivals so nopony’s able to trace us back to our camp.” He turned to Miss Irons and gave her a flattering smile. “Miss Irons, I trust you will be comfortable lookin’ after camp ‘til we return?”

“I’ll be alright, all by myself,” the stern mare said with a shake of her head. “At least you’re leaving me the big gun to defend myself with, should anypony accost me while I’m by my lonesome.”

“Try not to waste all the ammunition for it,” Wanderer said, winking at her. “I know you’ll be tempted to turn the crank at least once.”

“For wont of something to do, perhaps,” she retorted. “Just try not to get yourselves killed having fun stealing from the rich.”

“We’ll do our best,” Kestrel said. “As much as I’m sure Starlight is fine dyin’ a martyr for her cause, the rest of us ain’t so keen to make a statement by pushin’ up daisies.”

Starlight crossed her forelegs and rolled her eyes. “The revolution cannot succeed if all of its faithful die in pursuit of it. That being said, we are all committed to the cause to the point of doing whatever needs to be done to see it succeed. I’m sure you all feel a similar way about protecting your gang from the law.”

“Can’t fault us there,” Tumbleweed said. Then, looking over everypony one last time, he nodded. “Right, any more questions? If not, let’s get this show on the road.”

“About time,” Starlight said, standing up. “The six of us going to the conference, we should leave in pairs and approach it from different directions. We’ll meet up on the north side of the auction tent and plan our next moves there. Party Favor and myself, we’ll go in from one side.”

“Wanderer and myself will pair up,” Tumbleweed said. “That leaves you and Silvie, Kessie. You two should be able to avoid suspicion if it’s a wait staff and a security pony movin’ about. Makes it look like you two are preoccupied with important business. Same for me and Wanderer.”

“Uh huh. Sounds fair to me.” She looked at Silver, who smiled back at Kestrel. “Any sides of the conference different, or does it not matter? Anythin’ we should be keepin’ an eye out for?”

“Well, we’ll approach from the west, south, and east,” Starlight said. “The north side is too close to the city, so we can’t predict any confounding variables we might run into moving through the city into the conference first. The west side is where most of the ponies of Hoofston are entering or leaving the fairgrounds from. The south side is pretty sparse, but the ground’s open there, so you might be seen approaching. If you go from the east, that’s where a lot of the staff tents are, like security or the infirmary. It’s not likely to be as busy as the main entrance, if you don’t want ponies looking at you.”

Approach the conference from the west. Slippin’ in through the main gates with a whole crowd of ponies’ll let us blend in with the crowd, or at least get lost in it. Just hope nopony there gets the chance to take a good long look at us while we’re headin’ in.

Approach the conference from the south. The south’s supposedly sparse and empty, but anypony happenin’ to look toward the south’ll see Silvie and me comin’. Might be odd seein’ two conference employees approachin’ from the fields and hills south of the city.

Approach the conference from the east. We ain’t likely to be seen, but we’ll have some explainin’ to do if we get caught where the other security is. Might be even worse off if there’s Pinks over there, but if we ain’t seen, it’ll be our easiest way to get in and blend into the crowd.”

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 98

Approach the conference from the east: 6 Votes

Kestrel observed the tents dotting the conference grounds from the safety of a ridgeline thick with bushes and undergrowth. She’d seen plenty of activity with ponies moving between tents here and there, and occasionally a security pony would walk the perimeter of the grounds to make sure nopony from Hoofston was trying to sneak in without buying a ticket. From her vantage point, she could spot a big tent that looked like where the wait staff organized and kept any supplies they might need throughout the conference, while a smaller tent just across the grass ‘street’ seemed to be for the security staff. A white tent with a red cross on it stood nearby, plainly marking the infirmary for anypony who might happen to get hurt at the conference. And behind it all, towering above the rest of the tents on the fairgrounds, a massive tent that reminded Kestrel of a circus tent stood, its cloth branded with apples and the words ‘APPLE CONGLOMERATES ANNUAL INNOVATION CONFERENCE – HOOFSTON’.

“Sheesh,” Silver remarked after wriggling into her wait staff uniform. “Guess their brandin’s on point.”

“Well, Starlight’s right ‘bout one thing, at least,” Kestrel said, shrugging. “The fat cats love makin’ sure everypony knows who they are and how much money they got. Guess that means there’ll be plenty of eyes on this place for her grand revolutionary statement.”

Kestrel used her hooves to adjust the collar on her pilfered security uniform, wincing as she tried to get her wings settled flat under the cloth. She wasn’t too keen on being grounded for this whole operation, though she supposed she’d have the opportunity to toss the uniform once the actual robbery began. Still, it was the price to pay for being gifted a rather unique feather and coat pattern, and she’d just have to deal with it for the time being.

“Say, you feelin’ any better?” Kestrel asked Silver. “I know that gunshot you took back in Rock Ridge had you slowed down a good bit for a while there.”

Has Silver healed since the last check? Yes

Silver Wings is no longer injured.

“Feelin’ fit as a fiddle,” Silver said, hopping from hoof to hoof as if to demonstrate it to Kestrel. “I think just bein’ bored ‘round the camp gave me plenty of time to fix myself up. Good thing, too, ‘cause we’re probably gonna get shot at a bunch, right?”

“Hopefully we ain’t,” Kestrel said, looking left and right to make sure the path to the tents was clear. “If things go off the way we want ‘em to, we’ll be good. Now c’mon, let’s get into this thing. Only got ‘bout an hour ‘fore the auction starts.”

The two mares set out from their hiding spot, uniforms as well-fitting as they could make them considering they were working with stolen outfits. Kestrel noted that Silver did a good job of concealing the rope around her midsection, making excellent use of the extra space she had between her shirt and her belly. They and the Gang had gotten about as good a preparation as they possibly could have made; now, hopefully, Lady Luck would be with them and get them through the next few hours alive and in one piece.

Silver Wings uses Lady Luck (7+1) to allow her and Kestrel to enter the conference unseen: Success

Thankfully, it seemed she was, as Kestrel let Silver take the lead and choose a path to enter into the conference. No random security patrols came their way, even though the two entered at barely more than a brisk canter, and after carefully checking around the corners of tents at intersections, the two found themselves inside of the conference proper. Then, and only then, did Kestrel let out a breath she’d been holding in since leaving their hiding place.

Music and the dull roar of chatter and laughter made the two mares’ ears twitch as they stepped into the main circular thoroughfare through the conference. Kestrel looked around, noting ponies of all the shades of the rainbow moving back and forth, stopping at tents, and sharing laughter in the middle of the trampled dirt road. There were food and games tents interspersed amongst the business tents and stalls, where ponies from many different companies all underneath the Conglomerates’ umbrella talked about their latest inventions and how they would revolutionize Equestrian society to anypony that stopped to listen. A stage set not too far away had a band entertaining a sizeable crowd with their music, though Kestrel tuned it out to focus on what the ponies around her may or may not be saying. If somepony recognized her or Silvie, hopefully she’d be able to pick up on the whispers and move to safety before actual security or, Celestia forbid, the Pinks caught up to them.

What does the Pink presence around the conference look like: 1/10 (Extremely Light)

Kestrel took a few moments to survey the surrounding stretches of conference to spot any ponies in pink suits, but thankfully didn’t see any at the moment. It was a momentary relief, but Kestrel didn’t know if she should feel relieved or not. She knew that the Pinks were providing additional security for the conference, and if she didn’t see them out mingling with the crowd or the other security staff, then that meant they had to be somewhere else.

She looked up at the large tent in the center of the conference. All she could do was pray to Celestia that the Pinks weren’t all inside of that tent. Otherwise, things would get problematic quickly.

“Pretty neat setup this place is,” Silver said, looking around. “Shame we ain’t able to come here on our own time. Bet they’ve got some great fair food.” She licked her lips and fluttered her wings. “Been so long since I last had cotton candy…”

“Maybe we’ll nab some on the way out,” Kestrel said, and she nodded toward the tent in the center of camp. “C’mon, let’s get into position. The others’ll be at the tent in a bit, so let’s regroup and get ready to start subduin’ guards.”

Silver nodded and took the lead at a brisk trot, Kestrel following close behind her as if she was just a security pony helping the wait staff out with some concern of theirs. The two weaved between tents and ropes, passing by other ponies that were actually part of the wait staff hanging out between tents. Kestrel made sure to keep her eyes forward and not make eye contact with anypony else; ponies would be more likely to recognize her if they had a time to study her face, though she doubted that many of these ponies knew of the wanted outlaw named Kestrel and even fewer would actually put the name to her face if she scooted by quickly.

The two mares made it to their meeting spot just a little bit away from the large auction tent, which had already started to allow potential bidders in early to get good seats up at the front. Rounding the corner, they saw Tumbleweed and Wanderer waiting in the shadows of another tent, and the two mares hurried closer. “Good,” Tumbleweed said when they arrived. “Was gettin’ worried ‘bout you two. Wanderer and me had no problems gettin’ in from the south.”

“No problems from the east, either,” Kestrel said. “Pink presence seems pretty low ‘round here to boot.”

“We noticed the same,” Wanderer said with a nod. “They’re likely protecting the most valuable stuff. I hope that the distraction proves successful, because otherwise we’ll have to contend with them inside of that tent.”

“Right.” Kestrel looked around and frowned. “Any sign of Starlight and her companion? I hope they ain’t havin’ trouble gettin’ here.”

“They should have been here the fastest,” Silver said. “They went in through the west gate, through the main entrance. They ain’t wanted like we are. Shoulda been easy for ‘em to slip on through.”

Were the other two teams able to get into the conference without any trouble? No

“Somethin’ must be holdin’ ‘em up,” Tumbleweed said. “But we ain’t got a whole lot of time to work with ‘fore the auction starts. ‘Bout forty-five minutes or so.”

“Do we go without ‘em?” Silvie asked. “Time’s of the essence, right?”

“We have to be careful to not move too hastily,” Wanderer cautioned. “We could go look for them, if they don’t show up in a few minutes. Doing this with anything less than full strength could be problematic.”

“So long as we can do what we gotta do, I’ll take it,” Tumbleweed said. “What ‘bout you, Kessie? Any thoughts?”

Continue without Starlight and Party Favor. They might be held up for a little bit, or they might’ve had to go change their approach. Regardless, we can’t sit ‘round waitin’ for ‘em all day. We gotta move now and start gettin’ this place prepped for the auction if we don’t want to miss our chance.

Look for Starlight and Party Favor. Doin’ this with anythin’ less than full strength could be disastrous for us. We can afford to spend some time lookin’ for the two of ‘em in case they got themselves into trouble. We just gotta hope that we don’t burn too much time in the process, else we ain’t got any chance of pullin’ this thing off.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 99

Continue without Starlight and Party Favor: 10 Votes

“We can’t wait for ‘em to show up,” Kestrel said. “Sure can’t go lookin’ for ‘em while we’re already here. We gotta get movin’, get started on the plan. Maybe they’ll show up.”

“Or maybe they’re part of the newest distraction,” Wanderer said. “Whatever’s taking them so long, I hope it’s not anything serious. We don’t need our cover blown this early.”

“Well, better the Pinks catch Starlight and her friend than they do us,” Silver remarked. “They can’t draw a connection to us, unless they squeal.”

“Starlight don’t seem the kind to give the authorities anythin’ they want,” Tumbleweed said. “She probably thinks they’re all pawns of the rich. That’s good for us.” Then he looked back at the auction tent and rubbed his chin. “At any rate, doin’ this with four instead of six complicates things a mite bit. I was countin’ on havin’ Starlight’s expertise to help us take care of the security and staff ‘round here, but we’ll have to make do with what we got.”

“So how do we wanna do that?” Silver shrugged her uniform loose and pulled out the coils of rope she had tucked against her midsection, coiling it on the ground. “I got the rope to deal with anypony that ain’t gonna move for us, but it’s not exactly like we can just tackle somepony in the middle of the tent and tie ‘em up.”

Wanderer made a show of stretching his wings and rolling his neck from side to side. “Well, I don’t know about you two young ladies, but I think Tumbleweed and myself should take care of the interior of the tent. Neither of you are particularly proficient liars, and using force is, like you said, Silvie, not much of an option inside of the tent.”

“Good; suits me fine,” Kestrel said. She pulled out her revolver and looked it over, then tucked it back into her uniform within easy reach of her mouth. “I ain’t good with words, but I can whip ‘em good if need be. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“Bring anypony you take down back here,” Tumbleweed advised her. “If Starlight and Party Favor show up, you might catch ‘em here. If you don’t, they might see the bodies and know we’ve started. That’s as good a warning as we’re gonna give ‘em.”

“Right.” Kestrel turned to Silver. “Well, Silvie, toss me the rope and let’s get started. We’ll clean things up outside the tent, then slip inside and help out with what needs helpin’ in there.”

Tumbleweed straightened his uniform and nodded to Wanderer. “Well, you old fart, y’know what they say: age before beauty.”

“I’d say I’m both aged and beautiful,” Wanderer shot back, but he nevertheless took the lead toward the front of the tent. “And when we’re done with this, I oughta teach you young’uns some respect for your elders…”

The two mares watched the two stallions depart, and then Kestrel took the lead in walking away from their staging area. “Alright, here’s how we’ll do this,” she said, looking left and right to make sure they were clear to exit their cover and start moving around the tent. “We see somepony lookin’ like they’re supposed to be assigned to this auction thing goin’ on, you go in and say somethin’ to ‘em. If you can’t get ‘em to leave, I’ll club ‘em in the back of the head with my gun. Anypony we gotta take down, we tie up and haul outta there quick as we can, got it?”

“Sounds ‘bout as good of a plan as we’re gonna get,” Silvie said. “Let’s just hope there ain’t too many ponies we gotta move.”

They stalked around the outside of the auction tent, making sure to keep their distance so as to not look conspicuous while they looked for targets. Ponies were still trickling into the tent, most of them wearing suits and attended to by lackeys carrying briefcases for them. Just one look at them made Kestrel want to wrinkle her nose in disgust, and she had a momentary bit of sympathy for what Starlight and her companions were trying to accomplish. Some ponies just had so much money that they wasted it on frivolity, while ponies like Kestrel and the Gang had to struggle to put together whatever they could to survive. At least robbing from ponies this wealthy helped everypony involved.

How many ponies are providing security outside of the tent? 1

But despite all their precautions, the only pony they saw outside of the tent was a stallion with a ticket counter, clicking the device in his magic as the bidders filed into the tent one by one. Kestrel was surprised; surely there’d be more security? But maybe whatever had held up Starlight was drawing attention away from the auction tent. If Starlight and Party Favor had become a secondary distraction at the conference, then that was an opportunity that the Gang couldn’t let pass them by.

“This can’t be that easy,” Silver remarked, just as surprised as Kestrel was. “It ain’t that simple, right?”

“Maybe it is; maybe it ain’t. Regardless, we gotta move him, so let’s get movin’. Bring him ‘round back; I’ll pounce on him and we’ll get him subdued easy.”

The two mares split in different directions, with Kestrel returning to the original rendezvous spot while Silver went to go talk to the staffer counting bidders. Removing him, Kestrel realized, would also have a secondary benefit; if nopony was limiting how many bidders stepped into the tent, then that meant more ponies inside once the robbery started, and more cash to walk away with. This conference, if they could pull it off, could prove to be very, very profitable for the Gang.

Silver uses Sweet Talker (6) to lure the staffer behind the tent: Success

Kestrel didn’t have to wait long before she heard Silver call out just loud enough to alert Kestrel she was coming. “I swear, I saw her right back here!” the mare exclaimed from the other side of the tent. “She looked hurt!”

Kestrel uses Muscle (5) to surprise (+2) and subdue the staffer: Critical Success

Silver rushed around the tent just as Kestrel stepped back into the shadows, and Kestrel drew her revolver and lashed out as soon as she heard the stallion’s approaching hoofsteps. The hammer struck the stallion square on the temple, and the staffer didn’t so much as cry out as he did crumple to the ground with a sigh. Silver’s eyes widened and her wings popped out in surprise at hearing the solid thwack, and she eyed the stallion on the ground with concern as Kestrel stepped over him. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Still breathin’,” Kestrel said, pointing to the unconscious pony’s rising and falling chest. “C’mon, let’s tie him up, not that I really think we need to. He’s probably gonna be down and out for a long while.”

Silver provided the rope, and the two mares were able to get the stallion tied up with very little effort, owing to his disposition toward being unconscious. With the staffer safely tucked away in the shadows between the tents, where hopefully nopony would find him, Kestrel turned her attention toward the big tent. “Well, we ain’t heard any shootin’. That’s a good sign. Shall we go see what Tumbleweed and wanderer are up to?”

With their duties outside taken care of, Silver and Kestrel slipped into the tent with the rest of the crowd and looked around. Row after row of foldable chairs had been set up in the open ground inside of the tent, all facing a wooden stage at the far end. The chairs were rapidly filling up with ponies, though plenty milled about in the open space by the edges of the tent, discussing their enterprises and forming the beginnings of business deals that would move tens of thousands of bits from one pony’s pocket to another. It didn’t take them too long to spot Wanderer and Tumbleweed, who were observing the tent from the far right side.

“Any problems?” Kestrel asked in a low voice when she and Silvie joined up with them.

How many ponies needed to be moved from inside of the tent? 1

Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to dismiss the security pony inside of the tent: Success

“None whatsoever,” Tumbleweed said, grinning at Kestrel and Silver. “Only one pony providing security near the stage. I got rid of her plenty easy by tellin’ her she was bein’ moved to deal with an unruly crowd by the west entrance. I doubt we’ll see her ‘til it’s too late for her to do somethin’ ‘bout us.”

“It’s like these ponies want to be robbed,” Wanderer remarked, shaking his head. “Might as well oblige ‘em.”

“Hopefully it stays this easy,” Silver said. “We didn’t see Starlight or Party Favor, though.”

“We got some time ‘fore this whole show’s gonna get on the road,” Tumbleweed said. He gestured to the nearby table of champagne and hors d’oeuvres, and picked up a glass in his magic. “We’ll see if she shows up or not. In the meanwhile, how’s about we enjoy our hosts’ hospitality some before we enjoy it even more?”

That elicited a small smile from Kestrel, and she happily poured herself a glass of champagne. “Don’t mind if I do,” she said, taking a sip. Everything had gone so well that she felt she was entitled to a little pleasure before the real work started.

After all, who knew if it would last.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 100

Despite how easily the Gang managed to infiltrate the auction tent and get into position, anxiety clawed at Kestrel’s gut as she waited for the minutes to tick by. Minute by minute, more and more ponies funneled into the tent, striking up conversations with each other and discussing business propositions. Wanderer and Silver moved around the tent as they acted out their roles as part of the wait staff, providing drink refills and ignoring the casual remarks of their ‘unfortunate situations’ compared to the self-made fortunes of the upper class. Kestrel and Tumbleweed, meanwhile, stood at opposite ends of the tent, watching everything that happened with eagle eyes, and each subtly holding their breaths as they waited for the time of the auction to begin—and wondering if Starlight and Party Favor would show up before it started or not.

Do Starlight and Party Favor return before the robbery is set to begin? Critical Yes

So it was an amazing relief for Kestrel when she noticed the two wheeling in a fresh tray of hors d’oeuvres, calm and apparently none the worse for wear. She skirted around the edge of the crowd to catch up with the two as they began replacing the nearly-empty appetizer table, turning her back to the bourgeoisie inside to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “Where were you two?” she asked in a low voice. “We was startin’ to get worried.”

“We had to make a little detour,” Starlight said. “Some of the police patrolling the main entrance, they’ve jailed me in the past for ‘inciting riots’. They’d recognize me if we weren’t careful. We had to approach from another direction, but we did find something interesting on our way here.”

“Oh yeah?” Kestrel looked over her shoulder to make sure her conversation hadn’t attracted any attention, then stepped a little closer. “Like what?”

“Remember when I mentioned the Apples were going to debut a flying machine at the conference?” Starlight asked her. When Kestrel nodded, she continued. “Well, it’s set up for a demonstration this afternoon, after the auction. And on top of that, it’s nearby, just a bit to the southwest. If we need to make a quick exit, that might be our best bet.”

“Flyin’ machine?” Kestrel scoffed at that. “That I’d like to see. Ain’t never gonna be nothin’ that’s able to fly like a pegasus on the wing. It just some sort of big balloon or somethin’, or what?”

“It’s a big machine made out of wood and canvas,” Starlight said. “And it’s got two engines on it that look like they’re turning oversized boat screws. I’m not sure how exactly that’ll make it fly better than a balloon, but the Apples seem pretty confident in it. They wouldn’t bring something untested to a big conference about how rich and successful they are.”

“Stealing that flying machine will just add insult to injury,” Party Favor chipped in. “What a devastating day for the bourgeoisie this will be!”

Kestrel frowned at him. “Keep your damn voice down,” she hissed. “Let’s not blow it now.” Then she looked back at Starlight. “So you’re sure you weren’t recognized comin’ in here?”

“I’m sure,” Starlight said with a nod. Her eyes then narrowed at Kestrel. “What about you and your Gang? I’d think the four of you would be far more recognizable than us.”

The Gang rolls Lady Luck (average of 6) to avoid being recognized by anypony in the tent: Success

“Not that I’m aware,” Kestrel said, looking around the tent, but all the ponies inside were too engrossed in their conversations or the upcoming auction to be paying attention to the outlaws hiding around them. Everything was going just as they’d hoped, and the fat cats didn’t even think that they might be about to get robbed. After all, that would involve paying close attention to the lower class ponies giving them food and drinks, and surely no self-respecting pony of the upper crust would want to stain their eyeballs by letting them linger on such filth.

“That’s good,” Starlight said when she too confirmed that nopony else in the tent seemed restless or suspicious. She looked at a watch on her foreleg and nodded. “Auction will be starting in a few minutes, and then our distraction should hopefully start. Do you remember what everypony is supposed to be doing?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kestrel said, waving a hoof. “Me and Silvie’ll be workin’ the crowd over for money, while Wanderer and Party Favor make sure nopony leaves. You and Tumbleweed’ll be up on the stage givin’ your little speech ‘bout equality and all that. Then once we got this place cleared out, we skedaddle.”

“Good.” Starlight took a deep breath and bobbed her head one last time as if to reassure herself. “Let’s get into position then. It’s about to start.”

They separated and dispersed around the tent, with Starlight moving closer to the stage while Party Favor moved closer to the tent flap leading outside. Kestrel quietly undid the buttons on her security uniform, ready to toss it off and free her wings as soon as the Gang made their move, and tucked herself away in the shadowy corner of the side of the tent. All she had to wait for now was the distraction to start and the auction to begin.

While she waited for that, though, a small hubbub of applause and congratulations broke out as an orange earth pony stepped inside. She was dressed in a simple black suit and a black cowcolt hat that was obviously finely made and very expensive despite the humble origins it tried to pass itself off for. The mare’s blonde hair had been expertly coiffed, and Kestrel wasn’t sure if her white freckles were painted on or what, considering how perfectly spaced they seemed to be. When she looked to the side at Starlight, she saw the revolutionary bristle, and she knew right away that she was looking at Applejack, president and CEO of the Apple Conglomerates, and one of the richest ponies in all of Equestria.

Everything the Gang robbed from her here today probably wouldn’t even be a drop in the vast ocean of the mare’s wealth.

After sharing a few words with some acquaintances of hers, Applejack soon made her way around the tent, passing almost right in front of Kestrel, as she trotted up to the stage. She soon found her place in the center of the stage, took her hat off, and held it against her chest as she addressed the crowd. “Fillies and gentlecolts, it is a mighty fine pleasure to see y’all here today, in celebration of everythin’ that we at the Apple Conglomerates have achieved since this time last year,” she began, putting on a practiced smile that seemed perfectly designed to set a pony at ease. “All the companies in our family have worked so very hard to bring the absolute best we can to the Equestrian consumer, and for many of our folks here, this week has been the first chance they’ve had to share those inventions with the common Equestrian. So not only is this conference a celebration of the success of the Conglomerates, but also the success of everypony who made this week possible. Let’s have a round of applause for all our hardworkin’ ponies out there!”

Applause and a few excited whistles answered her as the ponies present figuratively patted themselves on the back for making more money in the past year. She was starting to see why Starlight hated these ponies so much. Most of the time, the Gang had them cowering on the other end of a gun, so they weren’t so cocky, bold, and insufferable then. But now that she had to hang around them for a few minutes before bringing things back to the status quo…

As the applause died down, Applejack resumed her obviously-rehearsed speech. “Now, it’s been a fun week, I think I can say that for certain, and it’s time that we cap the thing off with a little last bit of fun for us who’ve worked so hard to make this all happen. I’m sure many of you have found yourselves a mite bit richer after these past few days, and them bits in your bag are just burnin’ through the fabric. So, that’s why I’ve taken the liberty to assemble this auction today, where all y’all who want somethin’ a little bit special from my personal collection can take a stab at anythin’ that suits your fancy. And just so I don’t have y’all clutchin’ your purse strings so tight in anticipation of what the big thing at this auction is gonna be, I’ll be startin’ with it up front so you’ve got nothin’ to hold back for.” She looked over her shoulder and nodded to a member of the wait staff that had followed her into the tent, and that pony ran off behind the stage to fetch whatever it is that would be up for auction first.

Excited whispering made its way through the crowd as the bidders speculated on what it was that Applejack could be bringing out for them, but Kestrel had her ears pointed the other way, toward the north. If she was lucky, hopefully she’d hear the commotion of Roughshod and Trixie and Snapshot setting off their distraction any minute now. It was just about noon…

Does the distraction begin promptly at noon? Yes

Then she heard it, the faintest crack-bang off in the distance. It was soon joined by more, sounding like distant fireworks to the untrained ear, but Kestrel knew it was the distraction kicking off. That was good; If the distraction hadn’t happened, then the looting team might have had to operate without any distraction drawing the Pinks away. And the Pinks would certainly recognize the report of firearms at a distance, unlike most of the ponies in the auction tent.

The wait staff pony returned, wheeling something covered in cloth out into the middle of the stage. Applejack stepped to the side, making sure everypony had a clear line of sight to it, and began to speak. “Now, what I’m ‘bout to show you is the prototype for somethin’ that’s gonna be very big in the future. Many of us need hired help ‘round the house, and that’s a fact. But payin’ zebras or griffons to do that labor for you gets expensive, fast. Celestia forbid you’re forced to hire other ponies; they’ll demand an unreasonable wage for their modest services. But what we at the Conglomerates decided to do was to take some inspiration from the mages of yore who built magical golems to aid in their tasks, and economize it for most citizens in Equestria to afford. We’ve been hard at work on this, and we finally have created a workin’ prototype usin’ gems and simple enchantments. Fillies and gentlecolts, I present to you the Workhorse of Tomorrow!”

The assistant pulled the cloth off of what it was concealing, and Kestrel’s eyebrow raised up as she saw what looked like a mechanical equine standing on the stage before them all. It had the general shape of a pony, though the gears inside of its brass casing were plainly visible, if dormant. Dull gems were buried inside of its body or in its head, and a pair of sapphires had been used for its eyes, staring blankly out into the crowd. And, as Applejack flipped a switch at the base of its neck, it shook, shuddered, and whirred to life, its gemstones beginning to glow brightly as the enchantments inside surged to life.

And then it began to speak.

“Hello, everypony!” it said in a tinny, cheerful mare’s voice. “I am the Workhorse of Tomorrow, though my creators have affectionately referred to me as ‘Gizmo’. I was built to serve and perform simple manual labors. My functions are many and varied, and include such things as crop tending, heavy lifting, and personal and polite service and housekeeping at your estates. How may I be of service to you today?”

Awed silence dominated the tent, even coming from Kestrel as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. Had the Apple Conglomerates built some kind of automaton? Was it alive? Never in her wildest dreams did Kestrel think she’d see a pony made out of metal act so lively and lifelike. For the grand finale of the conference, Applejack certainly hadn’t disappointed.

“Gizmo is just the first of many Workhorses of Tomorrow,” Applejack explained. “Future models will be more limited in their range of services to keep costs down; most ponies ain’t gonna need somethin’ that can pluck weeds outta their fields and then pour wine for ‘em at dinner. Gizmo and her sisters will be sturdy, reliable, and best of all, you ain’t gotta feed ‘em or pay ‘em anythin’! Equestrians will save so much money havin’ one or two or even three of these workhorses ‘round their homes and estates, and this is just the beginning. So, the startin’ price for dear Gizmo here is five thousand bits!”

Hooves immediately began to fly into the air as the ponies furiously bid for the right to take Gizmo home with them. Kestrel, meanwhile, turned her attention to Tumbleweed. The Gang’s leader nodded, and his magic pulled a bandana out of the pocket of his jacket, fashioning it around his muzzle to obscure it.

Shrugging off her jacket and freeing her wings, Kestrel pulled a bandana out and did the same. Then, drawing her revolver, she stepped away from the tent wall.

It was time.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 101

“Everypony down, NOW!!!”

Kestrel jumped away from the wall with a quick flutter of wings, her feathers slipping into the grips around her revolvers and pointing them into the crowd. All around the tent, the six infiltrators likewise rushed forward to commanding positions, brandishing weapons (or in Starlight’s case, charging her horn with magical energy) and shouting. Surprised and frightened cries rose up from the crowd trapped in the tent, and the ponies knocked over chairs or slipped and fell as they stumbled over each other to try and put as much distance as they could between the outlaws and their weapons.

Up on the stage, Applejack looked out over the sudden appearance of ponies with guns with disbelief. “What in tarnation?!” she shouted, moments before her brain caught up with what she was seeing. She turned to run, but Starlight’s magic seized hold of her throat and slammed her back down to the stage, leaving the earth pony sprawled on her back. The pink unicorn then put her hoof on Applejack’s neck, pinning the choking pony to the ground, and a wild, almost manic grin stretched across Starlight’s face from ear to ear. “Going somewhere?” she asked in a frighteningly singsong voice. “But the fun’s just started!”

Gizmo blinked its mechanical eyes behind her and cocked its head. “Please, ponies, there is no need for violence,” it pleaded in a tinny voice. “Disputes are best settled with honest words, not with hooves.”

On the tent floor, however, Tumbleweed and Kestrel paid the automaton no mind. “Nopony so much as move!” Tumbleweed warned, brandishing his weapon in the air for all to see. “You start trouble, we’re gonna finish it, and it ain’t gonna be good for you!”

Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to intimidate the ponies into submission: Fail

Rather than cowing the businessponies into submission, however, a few bared teeth and spit back at the Gang’s leader. “Damn outlaw!” one shouted. “We’re giving you nothing!” shouted another. “You’re going to pay for this!” shouted a third, but it was the fourth that immediately stole Kestrel’s attention. “Everypony, run! Help! Help!”

One of the ponies near the entrance made a break for the exit, galloping as fast as he could and shouting for help. Wanderer and Party Favor had already started moving in to corral the crowd from behind, and so were taken by surprise when one of the ponies already attempted to flee. Wanderer was too slow to turn to him on joints beginning to strain under arthritis, so that left Party Favor to lunge for the pony before he slipped out of reach.

Party Favor uses Muscle (7) to tackle the fleeing pony: Fail

He managed to grab onto the pony’s tail, but a twist and a kick let the fleeing pony slip out of his grasp. Before anypony could do anything else, the fleeing pony was gone, shouting for help in the middle of the conference.

Tumbleweed growled and tugged on Silver’s wing, who was just about to take off and fly after him. “Leave him!” he shouted. “Start on the crowd!” Tumbleweed moved in closer, and he flipped his revolver around in his magic and whipped the first pony that had shouted back at him across the muzzle. Blood flew from the pony’s broken nose, and he fell to the ground whimpering. Then Tumbleweed brandished his weapon on the rest of the crowd. “Cash valuables, anythin’ you got! Hoof it over!”

The Gang is able to intimidate the crowd into handing over their valuables: Success

Now that blood stained the ground, the crowd seemed less interested in holding onto their valuables. Kestrel, Tumbleweed, Silver, and Wanderer moved through the crowd, collecting valuables and emptying wallets of bank notes. Party Favor stood near the exit, one eye watching inside for any more ponies trying to escape, and the other peeking out of the tent flap in case any response was mustered. So far, however, there was none.

The Gang begins looting the crowd: 566 bits (566 total)

On the stage, Starlight took her time to savor the feel of a capitalist under her hoof, then pivoted to address the crowd. “Greedy fat cats of Equestria!” she shouted, eyes sparkling with a passionate fire held inside of her. “You think you’re better than the common pony, do you? You think that your wealth would protect you? Make you invincible? Everything you have was built on the backs of the common pony, and you thought your pockets were so heavy that your weight would keep them down forever! But no longer! Today, the common ponies of Equestria rise up against your greed and tyranny! Today marks the beginning of revolution!”

The Gang continues looting the crowd: 525 bits (1091 total)

Silver finds extra loot amounting to 559 bits (1650 total)

Does the conference muster a response yet? No

Kestrel started tuning Starlight’s words out as she worked her way through the crowd one by one, stripping a pony of any valuables they had on them and emptying their wallets before pushing them to the ground and moving onto the next. Her pockets were slowly filling, just as the rest of the Gang’s were as they worked through the ponies. Silver snatched up a briefcase, cracking it open to find extra money stashed inside, while Wanderer struggled to collect things off of a particularly stubborn mare. Kestrel bared her teeth and gave her head a little shake, but carried on with her own looting. Wanderer was slowing them down, but at least he was helping, unlike Starlight, who just wanted to use the opportunity to preach her message to the ponies she was directly antagonizing.

The Gang continues looting the crowd: 320 bits (1970 total)

Silver and Tumbleweed find extra loot amounting to 1057 bits (3027 total)

Does the conference muster a response yet? Critical Yes

Just as Kestrel felt the Gang was beginning to get into their rhythm with the looting, Party Favor suddenly turned back toward the interior of the tent with a worried look on his face. “Ponies with guns are approaching the tent,” he said. “They’ve got pink suits on, too.”

“Pinks?!” Tumbleweed let out a quick stream of curses under his bandana. “Thought the damn distraction team would take care of this! That pony that slipped out of here, he musta caught ‘em ‘fore they galloped off into Hoofston. How many of ‘em we got?”

Party Favor peered back at the tent flap and did a quick count, his eyes bouncing from one to the next. “Eight… no, ten, I think,” he said. “What do we do?”

“Active security ponies have arrived to put an end to this quarrel,” Gizmo helpfully stated from the stage. “Please, everypony, lower your weapons and this may still be resolved peacefully.”

“I’ve half a mind to rip that damn thing’s head off,” Tumbleweed growled, stepping away from the crowd. “Kessie, Silvie, keep the crowd on the ground. Rifle through their things some more if you can, but this heist just turned into a hostage situation. Wanderer, see what we can do ‘bout that automaton thing. I’m gonna see if I can buy us some time with words.”

Up on the stage, Applejack wheezed under Starlight’s hoof and grinned up at her. “Looks like money can buy protection after all,” she said. “And filly, I’m gonna love to watch you hang.”

“Shut up!” Starlight growled, stepping harder on Applejack’s throat and spitting into the mare’s face. “I ought to snap your neck right now, capitalist pig. Think your hired help can get in here before I end your life?”

While the situation began to deteriorate around them, Silver turned an anxious look to Kestrel. “This ain’t turnin’ out as good as I thought it was gonna be,” she said in a worried voice. “What’re we gonna do?”

“We got hostages to buy us some time,” Kestrel said. “And we got their employer in here with us. Applejack could be a pretty valuable hostage.” She frowned at the ground as she tried to figure out an ideal way out of this situation. A couple of Pinks wouldn’t have been a problem to take on, but ten of them? That was too much for the Gang to handle, to be sure. And the longer they waited, the more that were likely to show up.

And then there was the issue of what to do with Gizmo. Kestrel had no doubt that the robot pony would be worth far more to the Gang if they got out of here with it in one piece, but that could prove tricky if the robot tried to resist them. So far it seemed to only be interested in standing its ground and attempting to defuse the situation, but who knew what would happen if the Gang tried to do anything to it. But something had to be done, and there wasn’t a lot of time to do it.

PICK 1 FROM EACH CATEGORY

ESCAPE PLAN:

Flee as soon as we can. A little over 3000 bits ain’t what we were hopin’ for, but we can’t count on everythin’ goin’ our way. Our best bet is to get outta here as soon as we can, regardless of what form that happens to take.

Stall for time to do more looting. We can squeeze these ponies for a lot more, I know that. We barely put a dent in what they’ve got on ‘em. If we can keep Tumbleweed talkin’ for a few more minutes, then we can add more to our haul, but if they move on us and we ain’t ready to run, then things could get crazy hectic, crazy fast. [UP TO 5 MORE ATTEMPTS TO LOOT]

Delay as long as possible until we’ve got this place cleaned out. Tumbleweed’s a good talker, and he can keep this thin’ goin’ for as long as we need him to. That’ll give us plenty of time to clean this place up and get movin’. [UP TO 10 MORE ATTEMPTS TO LOOT]

GIZMO:

A. Break Gizmo down and run with the parts. We can still get some of the gems outta Gizmo and find a way to sell ‘em later. Probably the lightest and fastest option outta everythin’ short of leavin’ it behind entirely.

B. Escape with Gizmo intact. If we can get the automaton outta here in one piece, that’ll give us way more time to figure out what we’re dealin’ with and how best to go about turnin’ it into a profit. We just gotta coax it to come with us somehow.

C. Leave Gizmo behind. That robot’s too much hassle to move, and too difficult to try and break down. We’re best leavin’ it behind and travelin’ light.

APPLEJACK:

I. Take Applejack with us as a hostage. Not only will havin’ her as a hostage help us get outta here in one piece for the Pinks’ fear of shootin’ her, but she could also bring in a hefty ransom herself once we get the opportunity to.

II. Leave Applejack behind. Ain’t no sense draggin’ her along with us, if she’s gonna be fightin’ each step of the way. Best leave her be here with the rest of the fat cats when we get movin’; maybe they’ll remember that we spared ‘em and her.

III. Kill her. If we’re goin’ down, we might as well let Starlight make a statement…

Author's Note

Well, as many of you expected, Lady Luck turned on us really fast once the actual looting started. And since we're dealing with a chaotic and complex situation, now we've got a chaotic and complex vote coming up. Instead of one thing to vote on, you will now all have three, and each category will be tallied separate. So, when you vote, make sure you clearly state what three you are voting for in this format: 1, A, I. I know it's complicated, but in the interest of keeping things moving, I'm combining a bunch of critical decisions that need to be made into this one vote here so we've got a cohesive plan for escape.

Again, make sure you comment your three choices in the format of 1, A, I. Each of the three parts of your vote will be counted independently of the others.

Now let's see if we can survive this, eh?

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 102

Stall for time to do some more looting: 10 Votes

Escape with Gizmo intact: 12 Votes

Take Applejack with us as a hostage: 12 Votes

After analyzing the situation, Kestrel quickly settled on a plan of action that would hopefully get everypony out alive. “Tumbleweed, buy us a few minutes to get the valuables offa these ponies,” she told the unicorn as he moved toward the tent flap. “Tell ‘em we got hostages. That oughta stop the shootin’ for a bit.”

Then she looked back toward the stage, where Wanderer fluttered up next to Starlight. “Wanderer and Starlight, we gotta get Gizmo outta here in one piece, otherwise we ain’t gettin’ enough money outta this job to make the heat worth it. Drag Applejack along with us, too. She’ll be a good shield to get outta here in one piece, and she can probably get the robot to move, too.”

“I’d say kill the mare and be done with it, but…” Starlight then lifted Applejack up by the next with her magic, holding her just high enough that the earth pony had to strain to stand on her hind legs and not choke. “How’s that sound, fat cat? Come with us, and you just might be able to save your hide. If not, I’ll turn you inside out with my mind, and your factories can use what’s left of you to make glue.”

Starlight uses Sweet Talker (8) to intimidate Applejack to cooperate: Success

“Ah… alright… alright!” Applejack forced out between choked breaths. “Just… put me down… and I’ll help!”

“Before you do, make Gizmo follow my orders,” Wanderer said, stepping alongside Applejack and Starlight. “We need this robot to cooperate with us, you see?”

“Right… right.” Applejack grimaced and turned to Gizmo, who watched the events unfolding in front of it with some artificial approximation of concern. “Gizmo… that stallion… he’s your new master,” she wheezed. “Do what he says…”

Gizmo blinked, then turned to Wanderer and curtsied with the whirring of gears and springs. “Greetings, master,” it intoned. “I am the Workhorse of Tomorrow, though my previous owners affectionately referred to me as ‘Gizmo’. Would you like to give me a different name?”

Wanderer blinked, then looked aside at Kestrel. “I, uh… no, Gizmo is fine.” Then he shook his head and muttered under his breath. “Miss Irons is gonna kill me, she sees me bringing home some mechanical mare calling me ‘master’…”

Kestrel spared herself a brief snicker, but then she focused back on her work. “Forget the cheap stuff like watches and pocket change,” Kestrel said to Silver. “Start smashin’ open them briefcases. That’s where the real money should be. We gotta get some more lootin’ goin’ ‘fore the Pinks decide to move in.”

Silver nodded in agreement, and the two started snatching briefcases away from the ponies who still clutched onto them and smashed them open. Bits and bills rattled across the floor, and Kestrel used her wings to shove as much as she could into a bag by her side. It was starting to get pretty hefty with everything they’d taken so far; she was just thankful that bills were replacing coins all throughout Equestria. It was easier to carry a thousand bits’ worth of bank notes than it was gold coins—a fact that was only made all the more clear when Kestrel found nearly a thousand bits’ worth of bank notes in a briefcase.

Silver and Kestrel loot the crowd (Attempt 1): 2020 bits (5047 total)

While the two mares worked on the crowd, Tumbleweed and Party Favor stood by the exit to the tent, careful not to press their weight against the canvas and let the ponies outside know where they were standing—after all, if the shooting started, the canvas wasn’t going to stop any bullets. Both ponies had their weapons ready just in case, however. If they were going to die, then they might as well take some Pinks down with them.

“Tumbleweed!” one of the Pinks shouted, and over the commotion inside of the tent, Kestrel recognized it as Bon Bon’s voice after running into the Pink before. “We know you and your gang are in there. How about we skip the shooting and go straight to the part where you surrender? You’ll at least get a trial if you come quietly.”

“Trial or no trial, the end’s gonna be the same if you get your way,” Tumbleweed said. “But how many ponies are you willin’ to let die to get to use? This tent’s full of hostages, and even if you start shootin’, who’s to say that you ain’t gonna cut some of ‘em down?”

Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to delay the Pinks: Success

While Tumbleweed and Bon Bon exchanged words, Kestrel and Silver continued looting through the crowd. Now that the crowd realized they were the only thing stopping the shooting from starting, hostages as they were, they were much more willing to part with their valuables in order to keep their lives. That let Kestrel and Silver continue stripping away their valuables with ease, though not without considerable tension hanging in the air.

Silver and Kestrel loot the crowd (Attempt 2): 1505 bits (6552 total)

While the two mares continued their work, the exchange of words between Tumbleweed and the Pinks continued outside. “Quit hiding behind hostages, Tumbleweed,” Bon Bon scolded him. “It doesn’t become you, you dangerous outlaw of the Southwest. Let the hostages go, and then we can see just what you’re made of.”

“That might work for imbecilic gangs like the Vipers, but half the business of stayin’ alive in tryin’ times such as these is to use your head,” Tumbleweed shot back. “Way I see it, so long as we got hostages in this tent, then you ain’t gonna try nothin’. Why should I give up the shield keepin’ you out there and your bullets in their chambers?”

Tumbleweed continues to delay the Pinks: Success

Silver and Kestrel loot the crowd (Attempt 3): 1440 bits (7992 total)

As Tumbleweed kept Bon Bon and the rest of her Pinks at bay, Silver and Kestrel continued to add to their fortune. Kestrel was glad for the moment that they hadn’t fled as soon as the Pinks arrived—after all, they’d more than doubled what they’d originally taken before their arrival—but she certainly had the nagging worry in the back of her mind that the longer the Gang stayed in the tent, the harder it would be to leave. No doubt that Bon Bon likely had a pegasus or two in the air trying to bring more Pinks and the Hoofston police to the tent to bolster their numbers. The Gang could feasibly shoot their way through ten Pinks, with Starlight’s help. Anything more than that would be practically impossible.

Tumbleweed continues to delay the Pinks: Critical Success

It was at that point that Tumbleweed turned back to Kestrel and made eye contact with her. Then he raised his voice so that both Bon Bon and Kestrel could hear what he had to say next. “Now, listen. I can’t speak for yourselves, but we ain’t monsters here. So long as you stay a good hundred yards back from this tent, we’ll release a hostage every five minutes. Get any closer, and the shootin’ starts. Don’t think we ain’t keepin’ an eye on where you are. I’d hate more than anypony for some innocents to get caught up in the crossfire. And if a dangerous bandit outlaw like myself cares so much for the lives of the ponies inside of this here tent, then I would assume that the righteous ponies of the Pinkie Pie Detective Agency would care even more ‘bout them than I do.”

There was a moment of silence, then a terse response. “Fine, Tumbleweed, have it your way. The only ponies we’re looking to see hurt here are you and your gang. But if you give us any reason to believe you’re about to start killing hostages, then we’re going to leave us no choice. And don’t expect to be let off easy for this once you’re out of hostages. The longer this goes, the worse you’re making it for yourselves.”

Kestrel understood Tumbleweed’s meaning well and clear, and she turned to the crowd caught between Silver and herself. “You hoof over your things, and you get to leave,” she said to them. “Simple as that, right? Now hand ‘em over!”

Silver and Kestrel loot the crowd (Attempt 4): 1023 bits (9015 total)

Silver and Kestrel loot the crowd (Attempt 5): 1792 bits (10807 total)

As Silver and Kestrel finished off their latest round of briefcases, separating the ponies they robbed from the ponies still holding onto their valuables, Wanderer hopped off of the stage to join them. “We can’t stay here much longer,” he cautioned Kestrel. “We’re keeping the Pinks outside for now, true, but they’re using this time to get their own reinforcements on the scene. I’d bet my hat on it. Do we have enough to call it good?”

“Almost eleven thousand bits,” Silver said, jumping in on the conversation. “But we’re not even done with everypony yet! We could make so much more, if we just take a little more time. Tumbleweed releasin’ the hostages one by one will give us the time to clean this place out.”

“You want my opinion?” Wanderer asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer before sharing it. “Release the hostages as a crowd. Better yet, a panicked, confused crowd. Let the commotion occupy the Pinks for a minute or two, and use that time to slip outta here. We can’t afford to wait much longer, otherwise, this tent’s gonna be where we take our last stand.”

With Tumbleweed busy distracting the Pinks with talk about hostages, Kestrel realized it was up to her to make the decision for the Gang.

Use the hostages as a distraction and leave now. If we cut things off here, we still got enough ponies to let loose a big ol’ crowd full of noise and confusion. The chaos might make it hard for the Pinks to catch us as we try to escape, and hopefully we can be gone ‘fore they bring in more reinforcements.

Use the hostages to buy time to finish looting the crowd. We can still pull in a few thousand more bits by lootin’ the crowd. The hostages buy us time to finish things off, and then we can try and make our escape. The Pinks won’t move in on us while we got hostages, so we can use the element of surprise to leave on our terms. [UP TO 5 MORE ATTEMPTS TO LOOT]

Author's Note

I'm glad to see that the multi-part poll from last chapter went off without a hitch. I'll have to keep that in mind in case I need to do more of those in the future. That will allow for some more complex decisions to be made in scenarios where asking for things one by one isn't exactly feasible.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 103

Use the hostages as a distraction and leave now: 18 Votes

“Wanderer’s right,” Kestrel swiftly concluded. “We’re pushin’ things as we are, now. Stayin’ any longer just gives the Pinks more time to surround us. We ain’t gonna leave this conference alive unless we stay two steps ahead of ‘em.”

She turned around to Starlight. “Applejack’s comin’ with us. She’s our shield while we’re gettin’ outta here; the Pinks ain’t gonna start shootin’ so long as she’s between us and them.”

A devilish smile took hold of Starlight’s muzzle and she pulled Applejack a little bit closer. “You’re coming with us, capitalist,” she said, practically standing nose to nose with the earth pony. “We’ll see how you hold up without your money or goons to protect you from the downtrodden of Equestria.”

“Maybe we can at least get a good ransom outta her,” Silver said. “I bet she’s got deep pockets. Maybe we can get the rest of the cash we need to get outta Equestria offa her.”

“We’ll figure that out later,” Kestrel said, and she started hauling businessponies to their hooves and pushing them towards the tent flap. “Right now, let’s get these ponies ready to move. We ain’t got much more time to hang ‘round here if we wanna get out with our lives.”

In short order, Kestrel and Silver had corralled the hostages by the exit to the tent, though they kept the frightened businessponies in place with drawn weapons. Bit by bit, Tumbleweed and Party Favor inched around the crowd, until there was nothing between them and the exit. The Gang formed up behind them, Applejack and Gizmo included, though one was much more cooperative than the other.

“We got a plan of action?” Tumbleweed asked Kestrel. “Or are we just settin’ ‘em loose and runnin’?”

Kestrel looked back at Starlight. “Can you stop time for all of us?”

“Pause time,” Starlight grumbled. “I told you that before. And yes, for a few seconds. I can set up a bubble around us that will give us a brief moment to move. We should use it to slip away from the tent in case there are more ponies with guns around it. But it won’t last long enough to get us all the way out of the conference.”

“It’s a start, and that’s all we need,” Tumbleweed said. “When we move, keep it goin’ as long as you can, but don’t split your horn open in the process. We’ll need your magic later, I’m sure of it.” He looked to Kestrel and Silver. “How much you’d put together?”

“Little more than ten thousand, I think,” Silver said. “Not nearly as good as robbin’ the train, but it’ll do.”

“Train robberies’ve always been good to us,” Tumbleweed said. “But we’ll do the count later; the money ain’t helpful to us now.”

Then, drawing pointing his pistol skyward, he looked back at the Gang. “We move on my mark. Ready?”

One by one, the Gang nodded, and Kestrel readied herself for the breakout. If they were lucky, then Starlight’s magic would get them clear past the first line of Pinks, and from there, they could have a clear shot as escaping. If they weren’t, then they were going to have to fight their way out. After making sure her bag full of bits and bills was securely fastened and snug between her wings, she drew her revolver, readied the hammer, and tucked it into her feathers. She did the same with her second revolver, and ready to fight for her life, she nodded to Tumbleweed.

The breakout started with a bang—literally. Tumbleweed fired two shots through the roof of the tent, and the terrified businessponies galloped for the exit, fearing for their lives. In the same instant, the Gang ran in the opposite direction, towards a gap in the tent. “Hang on!” Starlight shouted, and Kestrel saw her horn flare with blue magic. As the Gang burst through the tent flap and to the other side, the world took on a grayscale hue, and the canvas flap felt as stiff and brittle as a sheet of ice as Kestrel shouldered it out of the way. It wasn’t until she saw the dragonfly hovering motionless in front of her face did she realize that Starlight had paused time using her magic.

“Come on,” Starlight growled, sweat already beading down her face. “I can’t keep this up forever. Let’s go!”

Party Favor dragged Applejack along, who at first tried to resist until Silver Wings pointed her revolver at her. Gizmo followed behind, first at a leisurely pace, but breaking off into a trot at Wanderer’s order. As one, the Gang and their recent additions slipped through the conference, making their way past a pair of Pinks frozen in time running towards the back of the tent, and into the street beyond.

Starlight is able to sustain her pause time spell using Scholar (8): Fail

It was at that moment that Starlight’s horn popped and sparked, and the mare dropped her spell with a curse and a heaping helping of panting. Color returned to the world, along with the ambient sound of their surroundings, and Kestrel found herself momentarily disoriented as she stepped out of paused time. Tumbleweed quickly gave Starlight a shoulder to lean on as she recovered, and the mare gritted her teeth and shook her head. “Fuck. I’ve done that spell on a couple of ponies, but seven ponies and a robot? That’s new.”

“I ain’t able to do anythin’ like that,” Tumbleweed assured her. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But c’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

“Pinks ain’t on us?” Silver asked, looking around. “We didn’t get that far from the tent…”

The Gang rolls Lady Luck (Average of 6) to avoid being spotted by the Pinks: Success

But Kestrel didn’t see any ponies in Pink suits rushing for her, and she considered that a blessing. “They ain’t expectin’ us to have anythin’ like Starlight’s magic,” she said. “Let’s not squander it while we got the upper hoof.”

“We can make a run for it,” Party Favor said. “There aren’t too many ponies between us and the edge of the conference. Looks like they started evacuated the crowd.”

“Orrrrrrr we can take that fancy flying doohickey!” Silver exclaimed, pointing off to the side. There, on a stretch of flat ground, a wooden frame supporting canvas stretched between its beams and combustion engines nestled on the spars sat, ready and waiting. “Why don’t we take Applejack’s flyin’ machine for a spin! You know how it works, right, Applejack?”

Applejack’s eyes narrowed. “You ain’t gonna crash my flyin’ machine, you damn outlaws! Leave the damn thing be!”

“You ain’t in any position to make demands of us,” Tumbleweed said. “We make our own decisions here.”

Kestrel nodded. A decision was certainly what they needed right now.

Flee the conference to the south. We gotta cross an open plain to get to safety, but it’s the quickest way outta this mess of tents and ponies. Let’s just hope nopony got any rifles ready to pick us off as we try to cross flat ground.

Flee the conference using the flying machine. We can get those of us who ain’t got wings in that thing to fly off, assumin’ the damn things works, which ain’t a guarantee. Perhaps more pressin’, though, is the noise those engines’ll make as soon as we turn ‘em on. Let’s hope this thing is fast, because if we use it, we gotta be outta here as quick as we can.

Hide in the conference until the coast is clear. The Pinks are expectin’ us to run for it, so what’ll they do if we hide in a tent and wait ‘til the perfect opportunity to move? They might fan out and leave the conference entirely, lettin’ us slip on outta here without much in the way of resistance… so long as we don’t get caught while we’re waitin’.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 104

Flee the conference to the south: 9 Votes

“The last thing we need is to go kill ourselves tryin’ to fly that stupid thing,” Kestrel said, shaking her head. “Unless I’m mistaken and any of you have ever flown some kind of flyin’ boat thing, all we’re gonna accomplish is crashin’ it somewhere. We’re better off fleein’ on hoof.”

“Can that thing even keep up?” Tumbleweed asked, pointing to Gizmo. “We better not be slowed down by it.”

Gizmo blinked its mechanical eyes and turned to Tumbleweed. “While my gears and pistons may not be as capable as superior pony biology, I can comfortably maintain a trot for approximately twenty-five years until my enchanted mana crystals need to be recharged. Please contact a representative from the Apple Conglomerates for more information about keeping your Workhorse of Tomorrow maintained in peak condition.”

“Better than a canter, ain’t as good as a gallop,” Silver said. “I guess that’s good enough.”

“Then c’mon, let’s get movin’.” Kestrel rushed to the front of the group, though she paused long enough to address Starlight and Applejack, the latter of which was dragged along in Starlight’s telekinetic grip. “Starlight, if she starts resistin’ or shoutin’ for help, break her neck. Applejack, let me put it this way: either you stay quiet and we all get outta here in one piece, or you start shoutin’ and everypony dies, including you, your guards, and anypony else who gets in our way.”

“You damn outlaws!” Applejack hissed at them. “Anarchist, communist, equalist outlaws! You’ll pay for crashin’ this conference and stealin’ my robot!”

“Tut tut tut, Applejack,” Starlight said, and her magic brightened as she squeezed the earth pony’s neck. “Let’s not make a fuss about this. Better yet, why don’t you go to sleep?”

The intensity of her magic shifted, and Applejack’s eyes rolled back in her head. Then she dropped the unconscious mare on Party Favor’s back, and the stallion grunted as he shouldered the weight. “She’ll be out for a few hours,” Starlight informed the rest of the party. “That’s easier than dragging her along and hoping she’ll be quiet.”

“Works for me.” Tumbleweed moved up near Kestrel, and the two ponies poked their heads out between the tents and looked up and down the dirt path to make sure the coast was clear. When it was, they gestured back to their companions. “Alright, let’s move. Due south, quickly now.”

The six ponies, plus their robot and unconscious captive, quickly dashed from one cover to the next, trying to spend as little time as possible in the open. Panicked yelling and screaming had spread throughout the conference now that word had gotten out that there were armed outlaws robbing the place, and the attendees who the Pinks hadn’t evacuated yet had all started running to get as far away from the conference as possible. The chaos and confusion provided the perfect opportunity for the Gang to slip away; they just needed to reach the edge of the conference, and then they could use the fleeing crowds for cover to slip away.

The Gang rolls Lady Luck (Average 6) to avoid being spotted by the Pinks as they approach the edge of the conference: Critical Fail

Just as Kestrel thought they were about to break free, a pony sprinting around the tent from her left collided with her, and the two went tumbling to the ground. She grimaced as the wind was knocked out of her, and when the world stopped spinning, she saw a pony in a Pink suit on top of her. Shouting broke out all around, and that was when the shooting began.

All combat rolls are listed in discord.

Tumbleweed was the first to act, drawing his magic training his revolver on the second Pink to come around the corner; unfortunately, the surprise of Kestrel being tackled to the ground and the Gang suddenly finding themselves in a shootout didn’t give him time to properly aim before he fired, and the shot went wide, ripping through the canvas of another tent. Party Favor took the initiative and rushed forward after Tumbleweed’s shot, delivering a strong kick to that Pink’s chest while shedding Applejack from his back in the same moment. The mare Party Favor kicked tried to shoot at him as she stumbled away, but the shot buried itself harmlessly in the dirt as Party Favor hopped back a step.

Starlight, meanwhile, let her horn flare up, and a jagged blue beam of pure magical energy ripped forward through the third Pink before he could get set up to attack the Gang. The stallion shouted in pain, and Silver Wings ended his shout with a quick bullet to the skull. A fourth Pink tried to skid to a stop at the sudden carnage and find cover, but a well-placed shot from Wanderer sprayed the tent behind the pony with her blood and brains, and she fell to the ground dead.

Kestrel, meanwhile, tried to grapple with the Pink on top of her. She swiped at his face with her forehooves, but he was a larger earth pony, and her horseshoes bruised the thick muscles around his neck and shoulders but nothing more. The stallion responded by punching her in the face with his own steel shod hooves, and Kestrel had stars in her eyes as she felt her nose break and blood began to pour down her muzzle.

Kestrel is now GRAZED (Healthiness -1)

Seeing Kestrel was in trouble, Starlight immediately shifted her attention to the stallion sitting on top of the pegasus. Her horn flared, and a streak of blue magic ripped through the stallion’s body, scorching his pink suit on both sides and sending him down with a wheeze. Kestrel immediately tossed the dead stallion’s body off of her and drew her gun, quickly sighting down the last remaining Pink right as she grazed Party Favor with her second shot. The revolver kicked in Kestrel’s grip, smoke and sparks left the barrel, and the last of the four Pinks fell to the ground with a spray of blood.

Party Favor is now GRAZED (Healthiness -1)

Tumbleweed helped Kestrel back up to her hooves and looked around. “That’s sure as shit gonna draw the Pinks this way. C’mon! Let’s get movin’!”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Kestrel dusted herself off and then set off after Tumbleweed, making sure the rest of the Gang was in tow. “Last thing we need is to get boxed in!”

Finally, the Gang burst past the last line of tents on the exterior of the conference and took off down the hill to the south, seeing a few dozen ponies also fleeing in that direction. A long stretch of open field awaited them, and after that bit of gauntlet, they could finally get into some rougher terrain and be safe. The problem was, of course, getting there safely.

Kestrel just hoped they’d be able to get there without taking any more bullets.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

Sorry it took me so long to get the next update out; last week was very busy. Hopefully things should be back on track now.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 105

“C’mon! Let’s get movin’!” Kestrel shouted as she charged into the open field. The rest of the Gang followed quickly behind her, save for Wanderer and Gizmo, who lagged behind due to Gizmo’s speed topping out at a leisurely trot. Realizing that they weren’t going to cross the field anywhere near as fast as she and Silver could fly, Kestrel spread her wings and spiraled up to get some height and survey the situation. She could only hope that the Gang could flee across the fields without the Pinks catching up to them, but after all the commotion and gunfire they just caused, she doubted very much that that was going to happen.

The Gang rolls Lady Luck (Average: 6 (-2 for prior gunfire) (-2 for Gizmo’s slow trot and distinct appearance)) to avoid being spotted by more Pinks: Fail

Sure enough, Kestrel saw a whole contingent of Pinks rapidly galloping south, with more not too far behind them. Within moments, seven pink-suited ponies burst forth from the tents on the south end of the conference, guns drawn and searching the area. One pointed to Gizmo trotting away from the conference, and another pointed up in the sky to where Kestrel and Silver flew about. Kestrel barely had any time to shout her warning to her friends below before the shooting started.

All combat rolls are listed in discord

Kestrel was the first to draw, quickly spinning about and firing at the first Pink she saw flying up after her. Her shot missed, but just barely, and as the Pink tumbled to the side, trying to regain his balance, she fired again and clipped his wing. Silver likewise wheeled about and shot at a second pegasus trying to take wing, forcing them back to the ground with a squawk of pain. That pegasus fired a shot up at Silver, but a last-second twirl from Silver saw the bullet clip off two of her gleaming feathers and nothing more.

On the ground, Tumbleweed turned about from galloping just long enough to line up a shot on the leading unicorn galloping out of the conference, and a squeeze of the trigger sent the unicorn’s head snapping back and his body crumpling to the ground. Party Favor likewise turned around to fire, and none of the Pinks dared to shoot at him since he was carrying their employer’s unconscious body on his back. That afforded him the opportunity to line up the perfect shot, and an earth pony in a pink suit fell to the ground, clutching her chest, as his bullet ripped through her heart. Wanderer also took a shot of his own, clipping one of the still-standing Pinks, and a jolt of lightning flying from Starlight’s horn badly singed another.

Then the Pinks responded with their own barrage of gunfire. A shot at Starlight went wide when she ducked down, while a second at Tumbleweed cut a red line across his shoulder, the grazing wound beginning to seep blood. Wanderer staggered as a shot caught him in the shoulder, but with gritted teeth, he powered through it and tried to get a little altitude with his wings. Gizmo, all the while, merely continued at her leisurely trot, but her mechanical features shifted into concern. “This level of violence is appalling,” she stated in her tinny voice. “Please cease before somepony gets hurt.”

“A little too late for that!” Wanderer shouted. “Just pick up the pace!”

Tumbleweed and Wanderer are now GRAZED (Healthiness -1)

“Who needs to pick up the pace when all the lapdogs are dead?” Starlight shouted, and she immediately cast another lightning bolt at the pony she’d hit before. This time, the bolt hit the Pink square in the chest, and the stallion fell to the ground in a spasm of limbs, thoroughly electrocuted from Starlight’s magic. The rest of his companions drew back in horror, and Kestrel could see their nerve wavering even from high up in the sky.

With Starlight’s magic making for a frightening distraction on the ground, Kestrel had no trouble lining up two more shots on the helpless security forces below her. She finished off the first pegasus she’d shot at, and moments after the next Pink fired off a second grazing shot at Tumbleweed, she drilled him between the eyes and sent him to the ground in a puddle of blood. Even despite his two grazing shots, Tumbleweed managed to aim through a wince and fire off yet another bullet, downing a Pink with ease. A bullet sped out of Wanderer’s revolver next to him, and a second Pink fell on top of the body of the first. All it took then was one more bullet from Silver Wings to drop the last, and seven fierce attack dogs of the Pinkie Pie Detective Agency were left dead and dying on the ground, their blood staining their pink suits and seeping into the dry and dusty ground below them.

“What is that, ten or eleven now?” Silver shouted to Kestrel above the noise of the wind roaring in their ears. “When are they going to give up?”

“Pinks don’t give up,” Kestrel said, turning around and flying after the Gang, making sure to drop her altitude some to be harder to see from a distance. “With the kind of bounties they pay out for bringin’ in outlaws dead or alive, there’s enough bits to make the average Pink risk it all even when outclassed.”

“How big are those damn bounties for them to watch us cut down their friends like nothin’ and still come after us?!” Silver exclaimed, incredulous.

“Depends on the outlaw, but after us? I bet they’d get paid ten, fifteen thousand bits for takin’ down one of us. Probably double for Tumbleweed, he bein’ our fearless leader and all.”

Silver whistled and shook her head. “Maybe I should be in for a career change.”

“Yeah, try showin’ a recruiter your resume some time. I’m sure you’ll be a huge hit.”

The Gang had made good progress by the time Silver and Kestrel dropped their altitude, even with Gizmo’s sluggish gait. But they weren’t out of the woods, or rather, fields, yet. Kestrel looked back over her shoulder to see how many Pinks were pursuing them. It was barely a hoofful, but still enough to cause trouble if they managed to catch up to the Gang. And who knew if they had pegasi or magic flares to summon reinforcements. Kestrel knew they had to lose the Pinks somehow, and she flew down to Tumbleweed’s side to talk it over, her glide turning into a trot as her hooves touched the ground.

“Rougher terrain up ahead’ll give us some cover to lose ‘em,” Tumbleweed said. “How many are after us?”

“A lot less than you fear,” Kestrel assured him. “But still enough to put up a fight. And there may be more on the way; I don’t know for sure.”

“Hmph. Well, where there’s one Pink, there’s usually a whole nest of ‘em.” He slowed up as the Gang trotted down a defilade and out of sight from the conference, with a river stretching out in front of them as the land grew more difficult and rough. “Let’s catch our breaths for a second here and get set to move. Lots of options to shake the Pinks. What looks like the best?”

Follow the river into the hills to the southwest. Rough terrain’ll give us plenty of opportunity to break line of sight, and we can cover it quickly. We won’t be safe from pegasi in the air, though; they’ll spot us pretty quick if they get close.

Cross the river into the woods on the other side. It ain’t a very dense forest, but the trees are close enough together it’ll keep any pegasus eyes off of us, and we’ll have a better chance at hidin’. But crossin’ the river’s gonna take a while, and we can’t move as fast in the forest as we would on open ground, so there’s a chance the Pinks could catch up to us.

Stand our ground and place an ambush. There ain’t too many Pinks comin’ after us; a good ambush might be all we need to thin ‘em down some more and really get away for good. Bunch of us are dinged up a bit, though, and I certainly don’t want to take more bullets than I have to.

Author's Note

Lady Luck has been incredibly kind to us lately; all four crits in this chapter went in the Gang's favor, from two instant kill crit attacks, to a crit fail on a Pink allowing for Kestrel to get some free damage in, and a crit success on Silver to avoid taking damage. How much longer this run of good luck is going to last, I don't know.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 106

Cross the river into the woods on the other side: 11 Votes

“We need to find someplace to hide from the Pinks until nightfall,” Kestrel said, and she pointed a wing across the river. “Them trees over there’ll make a good place to hide. Ain’t too many Pinks comin’ after us right now, so if we can slip into the trees, they ain’t gonna find us no matter how hard they look. That’s our best bet to get outta this mess soon as we can.”

“We just need to find a place to cross the river, then,” Tumbleweed said. He eyed the river up and frowned. “This spot here ain’t exactly a good place to cross it. Water looks a little too swift and deep. Unless Starlight, you could use your fancy magic to teleport us across and everythin’.”

Starlight shook her head. “I may be able to get us across, sure, but Gizmo is powered by mana crystals. Unless I knew for sure the enchantments the capitalists used to power them, I’m not going to risk it. She could explode if I tried to use my magic on her like that.”

Gizmo blinked and took a step back, almost as if the robot was nervous. At the very least, it was a good imitation of equine emotion. “Any damage sustained to my mana crystals resulting from unsupervised magical discharge will void my warranty. The Apple Conglomerates do not take responsibility for any resultant damage to property or loss of life.”

“The last thing I want is to get blown to itty bitty pieces by our pet robot,” Tumbleweed agreed. “Can you walk across the river? You don’t have to breathe or anythin’.”

“I am designed to be waterproof; however, crossing a river may prove perilous in case the current knocks me over and I become bogged down in the mud.”

“There’s no way we’re going to get her out of the river if she gets stuck in there,” Wanderer said. “We need to find a safe place to cross.”

“Alright, let’s go further south along the river and try to find a crossin’.” Tumbleweed took his hat off and rubbed at the sweat beading along his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “Kessie, Silvie, you two go off ahead and see if you can find anythin’ so we ain’t wastin’ our time tryin’ every half-promisin’ spot along the way.”

“Right. Silvie, let’s get goin’. The sooner we find a crossin’, the better.” Kestrel made sure her revolvers were reloaded then took wing, Silver flying close behind her. The rest of the Gang, meanwhile, took a moment to catch their breath and then began trotting south, their speed limited by Gizmo’s mechanical pace. Kestrel just hoped that they’d be able to find a suitable crossing before any more Pinks show up.

The Gang quickly finds a suitable spot to cross the river: Fail

All Kestrel could see in front of them, however, was the wide, winding neck of the river. There were no islands or stones in the middle that betrayed the presence of a shallow ford, and only one place seemed like it could possibly have a crossing because of a few dead trees sticking up from the water, but the water was white around the trees, and Kestrel didn’t trust the current enough to hazard a cross. They would have to press onwards.

“Any sign of the Pinks?” she shouted into the wind. “Please tell me they ain’t on us yet!”

Have the Pinks caught up to the Gang? No

Silver looked over her shoulder and scanned the horizon for a moment before shaking her head. “Not yet, not that I can see,” she said. “We got some more time to work with. Think you see anythin’ up ahead?”

Are there any crossings within easy reach of the Gang? No

“Not in this mile,” Kestrel said, shaking her head. “Startin’ to think we shoulda gone into the hills. As it stands, them that’re down there are stuck down low without any cover should we get caught. Maybe we can find someplace narrow enough to carry Gizmo across. Might be our best bet now.”

They flew on for a little bit, but it wasn’t long before Silver gave out a shout of alarm. “Pinks!” she cried out, pointing behind them. “They’re comin’!”

Have the Pinks caught up to the Gang? Yes

“Only three on wing,” Kestrel said, her eyes narrowing at the three bobbing specks closing in from the direction of the conference. “Go down and alert the rest of ‘em. Let’s drop these three quick ‘fore they can fly off and get more on us. We should have the element of surprise, provided they ain’t spotted us yet.”

Silver nodded and broke off, and Kestrel angled away from the river and toward the hills. She found a rock to lean against that gave her some cover from the sky, and she saw just out of the corner of her eye the Gang get into good positions down below. All they had to do was wait for the Pinks to get into position overhead, and as soon as they did, all Tartarus broke loose.

Gunfire ripped up from the ground, accentuated by a blast of Starlight’s magic. The bullets ripped through the three Pinks on wing, and they barely managed to get their weapons out and fire a few hopeless shots before they’d been cut to ribbons. Kestrel put two into the first Pink she saw, knocking him out of the air at range, and if those bullets didn’t kill him, she knew the fall would. The other two dropped just as quickly, and soon the world was quiet once more save for the running of the river drifting past down below.

Kestrel scoffed as she holstered her revolver again. “That was easy,” she murmured to herself, taking wing to regroup with the Gang. “Almost like Lady Luck wanted us to kill ‘em easy.”

When she flew back down to the Gang, she found the rest of the Gang reloading and holstering their weapons, with Starlight tossing the bodies of the Pinks into the water so the river would take them away from there. “Damn dogs, so willing to die for their master,” Starlight grumbled. “Think there’s any more of ‘em?”

“If there were any more right now, I’d be surprised,” Kestrel said. “We’ve killed so many of ‘em, and those were pegasi flyin’ out after us. I’m sure there’s more, but they probably ain’t gonna be in such a hurry to die like the rest of their friends.”

“I certainly hope so,” Tumbleweed said. “That should get us the room we need to get away. Now c’mon, let’s keep movin’. Lady Luck’s on our side, but I ain’t sure how much longer she’s gonna favor us. Let’s find a crossin’ and take it. I’m sick of fightin’ these damn bounty hunters.”

That, they could all agree on, and once more, they set off at a brisk pace. Before too long, they found that was only belly deep to ford the river, and one by one they waded their way across. Apart from the pegasi, Gizmo had the least trouble crossing, her mechanical limbs powering her across the river as long as her hooves could find solid ground to gain purchase on. Once everybody was on the other side, they shook the water off of their legs (save for Gizmo, who ignored it) and pushed on into the trees.

It wasn’t until the river disappeared behind them and the sky began to dim through the canopy of the trees that Kestrel finally let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, they’d gotten in and out of the conference with their lives. She could only hope the distraction team had been similarly as lucky as they had been.

But she wouldn’t know until they got back to camp.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

I decided to wrap things up here, since it was pretty clear that the Gang was easily getting away. Lady Luck surprisingly favored us greatly during this whole endeavor, and everybody got in and out with only grazing injuries at the most. We may have to wait a few chapters before we find out how the distraction team fared, however. Hopefully they were as lucky as we were, and Kestrel didn't hog all of Lady's luck from Trixie and Roughshod.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 107

Once the sun finally set, Kestrel lowered her guard. If the Pinks hadn’t found them by now, they certainly wouldn’t find them in the dark of the night.

The Gang had pressed on through the forest after intercepting and annihilating the Pink scouts that had happened across them by the river, and though they’d been on edge and alert as they moved within the shadow of the trees, they hadn’t seen any signs of being followed. Just to be sure, they pushed south into the forest for a mile, then turned sharply to the east and went on for another three miles before finding a small, rocky clearing at the base of a hill to rest. There, the Gang stopped to eat their dinner and lick their wounds. It wasn’t until Kestrel dug into her rations did she realize just how hungry she was, and how much energy she’d spent choosing both options when it came to ‘fight or flight’. At least she could recover some before having to run again, though hopefully, they were done running for the night.

The Gang ate their dinner in silence, the world around them still save for the chatter of birds as they laid low to roost, and the whirring and clicking of Gizmo’s gears as she stood and watched the Gang eat. The robot at least seemed like it didn’t have anything to say unless somepony addressed it or did something that it disagreed with, which was good. Kestrel didn’t know how she’d feel trying to have a conversation with a bunch of metal and crystal pretending to be a pony. How do you hold a conversation with something that’s not alive?

Once dinner was finished and any oozing cuts had been bandaged up, Tumbleweed pulled out a pack of cigarettes he had stashed in his vest and passed them around for those that wanted them. After a day like today, Kestrel wasn’t surprised when nopony refused, and soon, the six ponies had filled the air around their makeshift camp with acrid tobacco smoke. The hit of nicotine did plenty to soothe Kestrel’s frazzled nerves, and she felt herself finally relaxing as it worked its way into her blood. Maybe when she got back to camp, she’d have a cigar with Tumbleweed as well. She generally preferred cigarettes over cigars, but even she had to admit that when it came time to celebrate something, a cigar had that little bit of something a cigarette lacked.

“So,” Tumbleweed said, finally breaking their silence. “How’d we make out? Never got the chance to see how much progress we made.”

“A few coins over ten thousand, eight hundred,” Silver said, setting aside the last bag as she finished counting through it. “Not exactly as much as I was hoping for, but cash is cash.”

“If we’d had more time to loot the place before the Pinks got to us, we woulda had more,” Kestrel grumbled.

“Things could have gone better,” Wanderer agreed. “But then again, they could have gone much, much worse.”

“How we got out of that mess without anypony gettin’ seriously hurt, I ain’t got a clue,” Tumbleweed asked. Then he turned toward Starlight. “Well? That satisfy you for our crusade?”

“It’s a start,” Starlight agreed. “At least the fat cats know we can make them bleed, and hopefully this will empower the workers of Equestria when they see what we accomplished today. Plus, we have her.” She gestured toward Applejack, who still lay slumped unconscious against a fallen tree. “I couldn’t think of a greater hostage to help bring the revolution forward.”

“And what do you have in mind with her?” Kestrel asked. She took one last drag on the stub of her cigarette, then squashed the butt into the dirt to snuff out the ember. “Tartarus, what are we gonna do with her? The Pinks know who we are, and they know we took their employer. That oughta piss ‘em off somethin’ fierce. This could turn into a big problem for us ‘fore too long.”

“I would like nothing more than to string her up by her entrails and place the flag of revolution in her chest,” Starlight growled. But then her eyes narrowed and her expression calmed somewhat. “But she would also be a valuable hostage to ransom. She could be worth a lot, and if we do ransom her, I want half the cut for me and my team. This wouldn’t be possible without us, after all.”

Tumbleweed slowly nodded, and he held up his hooves when Starlight shot him a cross look. “I ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout cheatin’ you, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout,” he said. “Believe me, the last thing I wanna do is fight a mare who can pause time and kill me ‘fore I even realize she done it. What I am thinkin’ ‘bout, though, is the Apples and the Pinks crossin’ us when we try to collect our ransom. Applejack may value her life enough to pay us whatever we want, but the Pinks and the Conglomerates care more about their pockets than her life, and both have the added motivation of us humiliatin’ ‘em by getting’ into and outta that conference all but unscathed. Ransomin’ her back ain’t gonna be an easy affair.”

“Not that I was expecting it to be,” Wanderer said. He gestured to Gizmo. “Same thing with the robot. If we try to break her down, it might be some time before we can turn those gems into bits. The only cold, hard cash we have right now is in those bags Kessie and Silvie got on them. Everything else is speculative right now.”

“And we have plenty of time to speculate, at the moment,” Tumbleweed said. After thinking for a moment, he nodded. “We’ll take Gizmo with us for now. The robot’ll be easier to sell when we’re not in Hoofston. Maybe somepony’ll pay us more if it’s intact. Applejack, though, we ain’t got as much time to figure that out. She’ll wake up sooner or later, and we gotta know what we’re gonna do with her when she does. So… what are we gonna do?”

Take her with us so we can collect a ransom later. Applejack is probably worth her weight in gold, if we ask for it. It’d be foolish to take her all this way just to not get anythin’ from her.

Let her go. Let’s leave her here in the forest and let her figure her own way back to Hoofston. If we let her go, the wrath of the Apple Conglomerates won’t come down on us as hard. Plus, she’ll probably put the Pinks outta work, because I can’t imagine how a businessmare like herself ain’t gonna be disappointed in their service.

Kill her. Ransomin’ her is too dangerous, and so is lettin’ her go. The only thing we can do now is put a bullet in her brain and leave her body to rot, and hope we can get outta Hoofston ‘fore the Conglomerates and the Pinks sniff us out and throw everythin’ they got at us.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 108

Take her with us so we can collect a ransom later: 9 Votes

To Kestrel, the choice seemed obvious. “We raised a whole lotta hell runnin’ ‘round that dumb conference, shootin’ Pinks left, right, and center,” she said. “Heat’s gonna be on us now no matter what we do. We gotta get money sooner rather than later, or we’re gonna get backed into a corner with no way out ‘cause we took too long.” She pointed a wingtip at Applejack. “We gotta ransom her, get somethin’ outta this. That money could go a long way toward gettin’ us to safety.”

Tumbleweed didn’t seem too swayed by that, but he nodded regardless. “You’re right ‘bout that, no doubt ‘bout it,” he agreed. “Every day we spend in Equestria is another day closer to the gallows for all of us. We can’t afford to hang ‘round, pickin’ up bits piecemeal ‘til we got enough to get outta here. We gotta be proactive, and that means stickin’ our necks out just a little further. We can only hope that Applejack’s worth enough to her company and the Pinks that they’ll be cautious enough to get her back alive rather than risk it all tryin’ to kill us and free her at the same time.”

“We can only hope,” Starlight agreed. “And so it looks like we’re in this together for a little while longer, at least. We’ll all get out of this richer and closer to our goals than before we met, or we’ll all go down together.”

“Such is the life of the outlaw,” Kestrel mused. Sighing, she leaned back against a tree and looked up to the sky, where a few clouds were beginning to drift over the stars, darkening the earth below. “Silvie, you still got some rope? We need to tie up our guest to get her back to camp with us. She may be a businesspony, but under that suit, she’s got muscles. She probably busted her flank on a farm half her life ‘fore strikin’ it big with the Conglomerates.”

“A tough mare like her will shrug off my stunning spell before too long,” Starlight agreed. “She won’t be unconscious until tomorrow afternoon like the ponies we stole those uniforms from. She’ll probably be awake early in the morning.”

“Good,” Tumbleweed said. “Means we don’t have to listen to her yammerin’ all night long. We can at least get some sleep when we get back to camp.” Even then, he stifled a yawn. “I sure need it.”

“We all do,” Wanderer said. “Especially old geezers like me.”

“We’ll hang out here for a little bit until it’s safe, then we’ll get moving,” Kestrel said. “Maybe take a little nap ‘fore we set off.”

Nopony had objections to that, and once Applejack was firmly bound so she couldn’t flee in the off-chance she woke up earlier than expected, everypony found their own little corner of the makeshift camp to relax in. As for Kestrel, she simply cleaned and reloaded her guns, set them within easy reach of her wingtips, and then pulled her hat down over her eyes to catch a quick nap.

About an hour passed before a gentle nudge woke Kestrel from her nap. She flinched and jumped, feathers reaching for her revolvers, before she flipped her hat back with a hoof and saw Silver standing in front of her. “Time to get movin’,” the younger mare said. “Should be dark enough the Pinks ain’t gonna find us anymore, if they’re even still lookin’ tonight. We move now, we should be back at the camp little after midnight.”

“Sounds good to me,” Kestrel said, slipping her revolvers back into their holsters and standing up. Around the camp, the rest of the Gang was making ready to depart, and it wasn’t long before they had everything in order. Single-file, they slipped out of the camp and off toward the northwest, making their way back to where their actual camp was pitched. It hadn’t even been a day since Kestrel had left that camp that morning, but after everything she’d gone through, it felt like it may as well have been weeks.

Nopony talked as they made their way out of the forest and back across the river. It was almost like the Gang was holding their breath, as if they expected to find a Pink behind every rock they passed, waiting to gun them down. But those were foolish thoughts, Kestrel soon realized. The Pinks weren’t this far south, and even if they were, it was the Pinks who should be worried, not the Gang. There certainly were enough corpses in bloodstained pink suits scattered south of Hoofston to justify that.

After a little over an hour and a half of walking, the Gang once more found the familiar road leading into Hoofston, and backtracked it toward their camp, keeping eyes clear for any ponies on the road in either direction. But the roads were empty, and soon they located the little dirt trail leading off to the trees that concealed their camp. Relieved, Kestrel let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and struck off down the path, the prospect of warmth and safety putting a little spring in her step.

“Who goes there?” a gruff voice challenged, but as soon as Roughshod stepped out from between the trees and recognized Kestrel and the rest of the Gang, his expression turned from concerned to relieved. “Well, I’ll be damned. You dumb fools got in and outta that thing in one piece? We heard so much shootin’ goin’ on over there we thought you was goners.”

“Things got a little more heated than we bargained for, but we’re here in one piece,” Tumbleweed said. “How did the distraction go?”

On a scale of 1 to 10, how well did the distraction go? 7/10

“Trixie and that other pegasus, Night Glider, they got dinged up a little bit,” Roughshod said. “Nothin’ serious. Trixie spent about five minutes hollerin’ in the back of her wagon when I had to pull us outta there that she was bleedin’ and gonna die when a gunshot grazed her shoulder.” He scoffed. “Guess the poor thing ain’t never been shot before. Night Glider had to go give her a smack to get her to stop cryin’ and put a damn rag over the graze to get it to stop bleedin’. It woulda been funnier if we didn’t have cops shootin’ at us all the way outta town.”

Kestrel snickered and shook her head. “She’s been shot, now. She’s officially part of the club.” She chuckled. “I’ll have to catch up with her and hear how things went. Sounds like they went pretty well, all things considered.”

“They did,” Roughshod agreed. “How’s ‘bout we compare stories by the fire? Great way to unwind after a day like this.”

“I’d like nothin’ more,” Tumbleweed agreed. He gestured for the rest of the Gang to make their way into camp and get themselves comfortable, and he smirked when Roughshod’s eyes widened at the sight of Party Favor carrying Applejack’s unconscious body into camp. “Oh, yeah, we picked up a new friend,” he said. “I’ll tell you all ‘bout her in a minute. She’s gonna be very valuable to us in the future.”

“You don’t fuckin’ say,” Roughshod muttered in disbelief.

The Hoofston Conference Robbery Summary:

The Gang’s morale has improved after pulling off a successful job against the Pinks and the Apple Conglomerates despite the odds (Camp Morale is already Maximum)

Crashing the Apple Conference and foalnapping Applejack has raised Law Attention from 4 to 5 (Extreme)

Kestrel has gained honor from her actions leading up to and through the conference heist (+20)

The Gang managed to secure 10,807 bits from the businessponies at the conference

The Workhorse of Tomorrow, a robot nicknamed Gizmo, is currently in the Gang’s possession

Applejack is now a prisoner of the Gang, held for ransom

Bon Bon and Lyra were encountered but not fought

Kestrel, Tumbleweed, Wanderer, Trixie, Party Favor, and Night Glider are all Grazed

Crashing the conference has increased the local bounty on Kestrel to $10,000 ($2,000 for crashing the conference * 5 for Law Attention)

Gang Savings: $27,954/80,000

Camp Morale: Maximum

Law Attention: 5 (Extreme)

Kestrel’s Honor: +60

Kestrel’s Local Bounty: $10,000

Author's Note

An efficient and effective conference job. Lady Luck favored us greatly throughout the whole ordeal, which was surprising, and led to only a few injuries amongst the Gang. Hopefully the luck will hold from here on out, but you never know when it can change...

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 109

The very first thing the Gang did upon reuniting was let out a cheer and go grab the alcohol. They opened up their last crates of beer and whiskey and started passing bottles around, determined to celebrate the day’s success while any response from the Law would still be chaotic and disorganized. Tonight was the best time to party and relax, and they all knew that come morning, they’d have to keep looking over their shoulders for any Pinks creeping up on them. It was best to celebrate while they still could.

Kestrel went straight for a bottle of whiskey, pulling the cork off with her teeth and spitting it out into the rushes at the edge of camp. She waited for Silvie to get a beer of her own, and then, clinking bottles together, the two took a swig from their respective drinks. Kestrel pushed away the grimace that accompanied the harsh burn of alcohol and instead gave her wings a little flutter as she swallowed the whiskey, then let out a sigh of pleasure. After a long day like today, nothing hit the spot better than some strong alcohol. She was going to get drunk tonight, she just knew it.

“I can’t believe we got outta that whole mess in one piece,” Silver said, joining Kestrel as the two walked toward the fire where the rest of the Gang was gathering. “I was expectin’ to get cut down at any moment. Them Pinks weren’t so tough.”

“Lady Luck was on our side for once,” Kestrel said. “We got the drop on the Pinks almost every time we encountered ‘em. Things mighta been different had it gone the other way, or if we’d encountered more of them at once.”

“Well, I’ll take it for a job like this,” Silver said. “Much less frightenin’ then when we was chased all the way across the San Palomino.”

“That’s because there was thirty or forty of ‘em on our tails the whole time,” Kestrel said. “Here, we got to pick ‘em off piecemeal, and I don’t expect that luck to hold out forever.”

“Shame,” Silver said with a shake of her head. “I like it when things are easy for us.”

“All the more reason to get outta Equestria ‘fore things get harder,” Kestrel agreed.

The two mares were too late to get seats by the fire, so they instead sat down on the ground a little off to the side and used each other’s backs for support as they listened in on the conversation. Tumbleweed was wrapping up the robbery team’s side of the story, including how they decided to keep Applejack for ransom money, money they desperately needed.

“We’re runnin’ out of chances to get the bits we need to leave,” Tumbleweed said. “And this conference business, ‘specially after foalnappin’ our new friend Applejack here, ain’t gonna make things easier on us. We’ll be dogged by the Pinks good from here on out. Probably the army too; we never did put an end to that pegasus officer in Rock Ridge. She’s probably got a vendetta ‘gainst us somethin’ fierce. On top of that, if our bounties go up to somethin’ with a lotta zeroes after it, then we’re gonna get the attention of professional bounty hunters. Pinks are one thing, and the military another, but professional bounty hunters are somethin’ else entirely. They’re willin’ to play dirty and use every cheatin’ trick in the book to bring a target in. Doubly so when they don’t care if the pony’s brought in dead or alive.”

“Let ‘em come, I say,” Roughshod proclaimed. “If we can bend a whole city over and pull a few grand outta its rear despite the odds stacked against us, what are a few bounty hunters gonna do? Ponies should just stay outta our way if they know what’s good for ‘em.”

“Money makes ponies do stupid things,” Kestrel cut in. She chuckled and added, “It certainly made us do somethin’ pretty damn stupid today. Just because it worked out for us don’t mean it weren’t stupid.”

“And things certainly coulda gone much worse,” Tumbleweed said. “We only survived our run-ins with the Pinks because we managed to get the drop on ‘em every time. How about your team, Rough? Things went alright, I take it?”

“About as well as it coulda gone,” Rough said, crossing his forelegs. “Trixie got a whole bunch of ponies in real close with her magic show, and once it was time to strike, me and Double Diamond fired a few shots into the air and started roughin’ the crowd up some. We got a little bit of pocket change, but not much, since we was worried more ‘bout gettin’ in good positions for when the Law responded. It was mostly cops at first, and they was too scared to get in real close, so we played bullet peekaboo up and down the street for a little while. Snapshot kept their heads down great with that scoped rifle of his. Anytime somepony stuck their head up for a little too long, they lost it.”

Eyes turned toward Snapshot at the compliment, and the Gang’s reserved markspony just shrugged. “None of the police had any military experience, that much was obvious,” was all he felt like saying.

“It’s not every day the police gotta fight somepony who was a sharpshooter in the military,” Kestrel said. “Cut ‘em a little slack.”

“It bought us time ‘til the real target came in,” Roughshod said. “Wasn’t too long ‘fore some Pinks started showin’ up. At that point, we high-tailed it outta there, though things got off to a bit of a rocky start when Trixie got her graze. We really coulda used your magic some in the getaway.”

Trixie huffed and looked away. “Trixie has been shot at before, but she hasn’t ever been shot before. Forgive her for being a little bit concerned.”

Night Glider guffawed at that. “You were crying to the high heavens that you were going to die! That was more than just a little bit concerned.”

“It was a lot of blood and you know it!”

“You haven’t seen what ‘a lot of blood’ actually is, I’m sure.”

Kestrel snickered as Trixie pouted and glared off into the distance. One day, the magician would be able to laugh at this, she was sure. So long as they survived long enough for ‘one day’ to be a reality.

“What happened next?” Silver asked, steering the conversation back on track. “We had Pinks crawlin’ all over us ‘fore too long. It don’t seem like your distraction was all that good in keepin’ their attention on you.”

“Well, despite how much we tried to court ‘em to dance with us, the Pinks ran off after a little while,” Roughshod said. “Probably ‘cause you lot pissed ‘em off somethin’ fierce up at the conference. That just left the cops chasin’ us, and they weren’t all that into it, not with Snapshot pickin’ ‘em off from the rooftops and Night Glider keepin’ their pegasi away from him. They gave up rather than get more of ‘em shot for nothin’.”

“Wish our part was as uneventful as yours,” Tumbleweed said. “But no matter. As it stands, we all made out well. Better than we coulda hoped, really. I was expectin’ somepony to get hurt bad from all this nonsense, but I’m happy to say that ain’t the case. So, let’s enjoy ourselves tonight and get ready for what tomorrow brings. Who’s with me?”

A chorus of cheers went up in agreement.

Surviving her encounters in Hoofston and the conference job has allowed Kestrel to gain more experience and can advance one of her attributes or progress toward a quirk or skill.

Healthiness: +1

Gunslinger: +1

Muscle: +1

Sweet Talker: +1

Scholar: +1

Instincts: +1

Lady Luck: +1

Showmare: +2

Survivor: +1

Interrogator: +2

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 110

Lady Luck: 8 Votes

Kestrel’s Lady Luck score has increased by 1 to a new value of 7

The hours of the night all blended together after a few hours and a few bottles, to the point where Kestrel didn’t remember much of what happened after each team shared their respective stories around the campfire. There was music and singing, laughing and dancing, and a whole lot of drinking, anything for the Gang to relax while they were free from the risks of the Law closing in on them. The day had been an almost unexpectedly perfect success, and in the face of such good fortune, it would be practically criminal to not celebrate their luck.

Kestrel, of course, being no stranger to hard alcohol and hard drinking, got the most out of her night. She put away a few bottles of whiskey, almost completely lost her sense of balance, puked once in the lake, and briefly found herself longing for the company of another warm body to share her bedroll for the night. Mare or stallion, it didn’t matter much to the outlaw, she just wanted somepony to push away that feeling of loneliness that oft reared its ugly head when the night was old and quiet and she’d had a few bottles of something to loosen herself up. But everypony in the Gang was like family to her, and instead she went to bed by herself, passing out the moment her head hit the pillow.

She awoke late the next morning, short of sleep and with a headache that made her immediately regret everything she’d done the night before. Even before she opened her eyes, Kestrel knew the entire day would be wasted trying to recover from the night before. When she finally did open her eyes, what she saw definitely didn’t help her sour mood.

“Please rouse yourself from your sleep,” Gizmo cheerfully requested, the metal mare practically looming over Kestrel’s sleeping mat. “It is currently five past nine in the morning. Wanderer informed me that you usually are awake by six most days. That means you are currently three hours and… six minutes past your alarm.”

Kestrel grumbled and rolled over, her wings pulling her hat down tight over her ears. “Go tell Wanderer he can shove it,” she groused into her pillow. “I’ll be up in five or ten.”

“Laziness is a vice and a sin,” Gizmo scolded her. “Proper ponies that contribute to society awake with the sun and drink responsibly once it sets. The wheels of industry do not slow for sloth.”

Kestrel glared at Gizmo with a bloodshot eye. “I’m glad your makers gave you their wonderful sense of ethics,” she said. “Now piss off ‘fore I shoot you.”

“My exoskeleton makes me resistant to most forms of impact damage,” Gizmo informed Kestrel, but the robot nevertheless dipped her head. “But I will obey your orders. I was created to be obedient and to serve.” And with that proclamation, the robot slowly pivoted about, the gears and sprockets in her legs clicking and whirring, and she took up a leisurely trot toward the other side of camp.

Kestrel could only watch her go and then rub her eyes. “Damn robot,” she muttered. “I’m half tempted to break you down for scrap.”

Still, she was awake now, and there wasn’t any sense in trying to go back to sleep. Gizmo was right that Kestrel had overslept; the outlaw liked to be up with the sun to make the most out of the daylight hours, and sleeping in even more would just further disrupt her sleep schedule, even if the prospect of more rest was tempting. So, rubbing at her eyes some more, Kestrel staggered to her hooves and shambled over to the lake to splash some water into her face.

With that jolt of cold water to her face getting some energy back into her tired limbs, Kestrel stretched this way and that before returning to the campfire, where Wanderer and Miss Irons were busy preparing the morning meal for the rest of the Gang, as well as Starlight and her crew. The equalists were mostly keeping to themselves for the morning, not that Kestrel minded; the last thing she wanted to do was try to hold conversation with ponies outside of her usual circle of acquantances, and doubly so when such conversation was likely to revolve around politics and ideology. No doubt Starlight would have a lot to say about the equalist cause after yesterday’s success; Kestrel just wanted to delay that conversation until her head stopped hurting and her liver felt less poisoned.

Instead, she sat down by the fire, sleepily waving a wing and suppressing a yawn as she greeted the Gang’s stand-in grandparents. Miss Irons simply scoffed and shook her head. “You’re not as young as you used to be, Kestrel. Best remember that.”

“I might not live another fifty years anyway, if the Pinks get ahold of me,” Kestrel retorted. “Might as well make up for all that lost time by drinkin’ much as I can now.”

Wanderer lightly chuckled. “Enjoy yourself while you’re still young, Kessie. Life’s too short to waste time worrying about the future.”

“That, I can agree with.” Kestrel took out a cigarette and lit it, figuring she might as well double her vices while she was at it. “No idea what’ll get me first, though; drinking, or a bullet.”

“If the drink kills you, then I’d say it’s a life well lived.” Wanderer folded the omelette cooking in the pan and slid it onto a tin plate, which Miss Irons then passed to Kestrel. “But drink isn’t a substitute for good cooking. You’ll feel better with something more solid in you.”

Kestrel happily took the offered plate and leaned back some on her seat. “Ain’t that the truth,” she mumbled in agreement before she shoveled the omelette into her mouth. It disappeared all too quickly, but at least it helped block out the sour feeling sitting in her gut. At least she could always count on Wanderer’s cooking to help her feel better after a long night of drinking.

A few shouts and curses coming from Tumbleweed’s tent took Kestrel’s attention, and she looked over to see Gizmo fleeing as quickly as the robot could with Tumbleweed staggering after it, revolver drawn in his magic. Judging by the dark rings under his eyes, Kestrel concluded that Gizmo must have given him the same wakeup call that the robot had given her, and shook her head. “We gotta reprogram that thing or somethin’,” Kestrel said to Wanderer. “Somepony’s gonna shoot her soon.”

Wanderer merely held a sly smirk on his muzzle. “I’ll consider bringing it up with her. She only does things on my orders since Applejack made me her master, anyway.”

Kestrel shifted her attention to Wanderer and glared. “So you’re the one makin’ her go ‘round and bother the rest of us?”

“I was just waking up as the rest of you were going to bed,” Wanderer said. “You young whippersnappers are wasting valuable daylight.”

Tumbleweed, seeing no point in going back to sleep, decided to wander over and join the rest of them by the campfire, as well as get an omelette in him. “That damn robot,” Tumbleweed said, taking the offered plate and beginning to poke at the food with a fork. “I can’t wait ‘til we smash it and make some money offa its pieces. If we gotta deal with that thing wanderin’ ‘round camp, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to tolerate it.”

“I think she’s very helpful,” Miss Irons said. “Wanderer asked her to go get more water from the lake, and she did so without complaint, and much faster than the rest of us could, going bucket by bucket. I intend to see what else she can do to help us with around camp.”

“It’d be a shame to get rid of such a marvel of engineering,” Wanderer agreed. “Especially considering we can probably find a use for her. Besides, even if we did decide to turn her into bits, it’d be a while before we can get anything out of her. We’d have to move towns and sell her piecemeal to sompony who isn’t going to ask questions, and it’s not like we could sell her back to the Apple Conglomerates with their ransom for Applejack. They were giving Gizmo away at an auction, which means they’re plenty capable of building more. They won’t be interested in buying back a novelty prototype.”

“I still think bits are the best way to go,” Tumbleweed said. “We have to take it apart now, ‘fore it screws us over one way or another. What ‘bout you, Kessie? You think that robot’s annoyin’ as all Tartarus?”

Find a way to turn Gizmo into bits. We could get a lot outta dismantlin’ this robot and sellin’ her piecemeal somewhere else. Not sure how much we could get outta her, but it’s gotta be a few thousand at least. I don’t think we’re gonna find many buyers for the fully assembled and functionin’ robot, though, since everypony’s probably gonna know soon that we stole her.

Let Gizmo join the Gang. Who knows what we could accomplish with a robot like Gizmo joinin’ us on our adventures? I bet we could find a way to use her for jobs or somethin’. Havin’ a nigh-indestructible robot with us could have its perks.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 111

Chapter 111

Let Gizmo join the Gang: 14 Votes

GIZMO has joined the Gang:

Gizmo
Age: ???
Description: Brass robot designed to look like a mare.
Healthiness: 10/10
Gunslinger: 1/10
Muscle: 9/10
Sweet Talker: 1/10
Scholar: 1/10
Instincts: 1/10
Lady Luck: —/10
Honor: 0

Status:

Robot: This individual is constructed from metal, machinery, and magic, and therefore is not alive. They do not have basic survival needs like living creatures do, but will need somebody capable of maintaining and repairing them should they suffer damage.

Quirks:

Metal Mare: This character is resistant to all forms of damage, and only takes damage on critical hits. This character only has two damage conditions, MALFUNCTIONING and DISABLED, instead of the standard four (GRAZED, SERIOUS, CRITICAL, DEAD).

Untiring: This character never gets exhausted and does not need to sleep. If it passes a Muscle check to move or carry an object, it does not need to make successive Muscle checks to continue moving or carrying the object unless conditions change.

Machine Learning: This character will slowly gain points in relevant ability scores as it performs more activities involving relevant ability checks.

Luck Ain’t Artificial: This character does not have a luck score, and will automatically fail any luck checks.

Skills:

None.

“Well, she certainly can be annoyin’, ‘specially today,” Kestrel admitted. “But I think havin’ our own robot horse helpin’ us out with things could be real helpful. She don’t get tired, so she could help with keepin’ watch or pullin’ the wagons whenever we gotta move out. Might be we can get her to do some more complicated tasks as well, but havin’ another companion that we ain’t gotta provide much for’ll be much more helpful in the long run.”

Tumbleweed frowned as he watched Gizmo move from one end of the camp to the other, trying her best to rouse the other members of the Gang from their sleep. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “It would be a shame to just get rid of the damn thing when we could get some mileage outta it instead. Wanderer, I just want you to be careful with it. It may be in your control thanks to our dear friend Applejack, but I wouldn’t put it past her to have some kind of nasty surprises hidden in store for us.”

“I’ll make sure that Gizmo never gets too close to Applejack while she’s our honored guest,” Wanderer said. “You’re right; she could just take control of the robot back from me with a word. We don’t know how loyal Gizmo is until her creator is out of the picture.”

“Or if she’s fine with taking abuse,” Kestrel muttered as she saw the robot fall backwards away from Roughshod’s lean-to. The large stallion emerged from his lean-to, shouting and hollering at Gizmo, as the robot lay motionless on the ground for a few seconds before beginning the slow and tedious process of picking itself back up. In that time, Roughshod went back to his bed, leaving Gizmo to return to its standing position, blink its mechanical eyes once or twice, and then turn around and trot to a different corner of the camp. “Think a robot can learn a lesson?”

“She’ll learn pretty soon if Roughshod hits her again,” Wanderer said, shaking his head. “At least she’s tough as metal, for obvious reasons.”

“Roughshod better be the careful one,” Miss Irons said. “You don’t want to hit a filly that’s tough as iron, because she’ll probably hit back twice as hard.”

Tumbleweed chuckled at that. “If Rough learned well enough to steer clear of you, Miss Irons, I think he’ll learn soon enough with Gizmo. Who knows if she’s got any nasty surprises in that metal body of hers.”

“Hopefully we find out sooner rather than later,” Kestrel said. “I’d like to know just what we can expect this robot to do for us ‘fore we actually need her to do somethin’.”

“We’ll figure that out with some more time,” Tumbleweed said. “Maybe while we’re layin’ low for a few days here. After all, we gotta let things cool down for a bit ‘fore we try ransomin’ Applejack back to her company. Speakin’ of which…” Tumbleweed turned around to where Starlight and her crew were sitting by the lake and waved Starlight over. The revolutionary ended her conversation with the rest of her supporters before standing up and striding over, stopping when she stood at the edge of the small gathering.

“I see you’re feeling better,” she said, nodding to Kestrel and Tumbleweed. “That’s good. I needed a little something to relax myself, truth be told. Leading an ideological crusade is often exhausting.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Tumbleweed said, gesturing for Starlight to sit. She did so as he continued. “But now that we’ve had a little bit of fun and games, it’s back to business. We’ve got a wildcard sittin’ in our camp, tied to that tree over there. She’s dangerous, but she’s worth a lot. Only question now is, how much is she worth?”

Starlight and Kestrel looked across the camp to where Applejack had been tightly bound to a tree. The mare was finally starting to stir, now that Starlight’s sleeping spell was finally running its course. The earth pony was deceptively strong, Kestrel remembered, and the longer they kept her around, the greater the risk of her finding some way to break free of her binds. She was a conundrum that needed a resolution as soon as they could figure one out.

“That’s the million bit question, isn’t it?” Starlight asked them. “We gotta keep the Apple Conglomerates in mind, though. Applejack might be the face of their company, but corporations are inherently faceless, and they’ll find another mask if they don’t want to buy her back, even if it stings them. So that means we have to find a good enough compromise. If we ransom her low, then they’ll take her for sure without any funny stuff, or at least, that’s what I hope. If we push our luck, though, they might try to take us out during or after the exchange. It all depends on what they think an acceptable ransom is and how much they value Applejack’s life.”

“They’re all family though, aren’t they?” Wanderer asked. “I can’t imagine somepony letting a family member die because they don’t feel like paying the ransom.”

“Capitalist pigs only care about one thing: money,” Starlight said. “Even family comes second. We have to make this a good business deal for them, otherwise they aren’t going to bite.”

“Yeah, I see where you’re comin’ from,” Tumbleweed said, and Kestrel nodded in agreement. “So we gotta find the right price point. Well, what’s a good low bid? Ten thousand bits? The Conglomerates are incredibly wealthy, we all know that for certain.”

“They’ll probably pay that,” Starlight said. “But remember, I want half for my team for all the help we did here. We’d split that into five thousand for both of us.”

“Might try our luck for something a little more,” Wanderer suggested. “Twenty thousand would be fair, right? Or we could go even further for thirty. Really push our luck.”

“So long as we don’t push it too far,” Tumbleweed said. He rubbed a hoof to his chin and stroked the ends of his mustache. “Remember, the more we ask for, the more the Apples might try somethin’ funny. So, with that in mind, what do we think we can get?”

Ransom Applejack for 10,000 bits. It’s a bit low, and we’ll only take home five thousand of them bits, but at least it’s somethin’ the Apples would be willin’ to pay.

Ransom Applejack for 20,000 bits. Pushin’ our luck some, but the Apples are rich as can be. Twenty thousand bits ain’t gonna mean much to ‘em at the end of the day. Applejack should be worth at least twenty thousand to ‘em.

Ransom Applejack for 30,000 bits. Might be a bit of a stretch, but I’m feelin’ confident we can ransom Applejack for thirty thousand. That means fifteen grand for us and fifteen for Starlight’s group, and that’ll put us above halfway toward gettin’ out of Equestria for good.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 112

Ransom Applejack for 20,000 bits: 10 Votes

“If anythin’, I’d say the middle’s fine,” Kestrel chimed in. “Twenty grand, ten for each of us. That’ll give us twenty grand in all, plus Gizmo, for what we pulled off yesterday. That ain’t a bad haul, far as I’m concerned.”

“It’s likely to get as good as it’s gonna get,” Tumbleweed agreed. “At least we’ll be a bit closer to gettin’ outta Equestria for good. We just gotta stay one step ahead of the Law and the Pinks ‘fore we’re gone.”

“It’ll probably be best to leave Hoofston entirely once we get our ransom money,” Wanderer said. “The city’s entirely too hot as is. We shot up the police, we shot up the Pinks, and we foalnapped the president of the biggest corporation in Equestria. Not to mention that we ticked off the military back in Rock Ridge, and humiliated the local gang there… if the Vipers and the cavalry didn’t wipe each other out when we escaped from that battle, there’s a good chance one or both of them might still be after us.”

“And bounty hunters,” Kestrel said, and the mere words made her skin crawl. “Vicious crooks and murderers, the lot of ‘em. Only reason the Law tolerates ‘em is ‘cause they can sic ‘em on honest outlaws like ourselves instead of sendin’ their own people.”

“I would imagine that bounty hunters would be a far less worry than organized law enforcement agencies like the PPDA or the military,” Starlight said, cocking her head at Kestrel. “A disorganized mob of individual ponies chasing a cash payout seems much weaker than an organized group of ponies acting in concert.”

“That’s where your lack of experience as an outlaw comes shinin’ through,” Tumbleweed said, giving Starlight a lightly teasing smile. “The military and the Pinks, they’re constrained by ideals of justice and proper conduct, though the Pinks certainly are willin’ to bend the rules a bit to get what they want. Bounty hunters ain’t got nopony watchin’ over what they do, so long as they come back with the bounty dead or alive. Half of ‘em are two-bit murderers workin’ out a bargain to bring some other poor louts in so they get off easy.”

“Many are former outlaws who turned on their brothers and sisters for a quick buck,” Wanderer said, his face darkening. “There isn’t any honor to be found in them. They use the tricks and cheats that we use to survive against us. And as for Kestrel, Tumbleweed, and myself? We’ve got our own scars from crossing paths with a few, years ago.”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed nodded, both thinking back to bitter memories, while Starlight looked between them. “You’ve been on the receiving end of these bounty hunters, then?”

“Once upon a time,” Tumbleweed said. “The Gang was smaller then. It was the three of us, plus Roughshod over there, and two other ponies. There was a feller by the name of Stonewall, biggest damn bastard you ever did see, and he made Rough look like a schoolfilly. We also had another unicorn who called herself Zippy, and she was probably the most tempermental mare I ever damn met. Blisteringly quick to anger, easy to forgive, and somethin’ of a drama queen; she used to be our bait for traps or a distraction if we needed one. Sometimes I miss the two of ‘em somethin’ fierce.”

Kestrel hung her head at the memories of the two outlaws. Stonewall and Zippy had been two of the first ponies that Tumbleweed brought onto their little Gang before they left Canterlot together. Together, the four had formed the backbone of the Gang that would eventually attract Wanderer, Roughshod, Miss Irons, and everypony else they had with them today, along with a few they didn’t—like Poinsettia and Sienna.

Tumbleweed continued his story after a moment to reflect. “We’d robbed a few stores in some no-name town outside of Appleloosa, enough pickin’s to last us a month or so ‘fore we needed to go steal from somepony else. The town mayor had enough bits stashed up to put up some wanted posters and rewards for us afterwards. Small group of bounty hunters, maybe two or three took up the deal. They ambushed Zippy when she was scoutin’ another town and used her as bait to lure the rest of us in. We didn’t leave anypony behind then, just as we do today, and so we swallowed the hook. We walked right into a trap and had to fight our way back out. We killed two of the damn bastards that messed with us… but Stonewall and Zippy didn’t make it. Worse yet, the last one of ‘em managed to get to the state marshall, so we had to high tail it outta there ‘fore the Law got the rest of us. We broke into a house we thought was abandoned to lie low for a little while. Turns out it weren’t so abandoned.”

Eyes turned toward Miss Irons, who simply snorted and turned her head. “I would have filled the lot of you with lead if you didn’t have such a charming pegasus with you. Though sometimes I still think I should have, considering the Law burnt my little homestead down when they found out I was sheltering wanted criminals.”

“I gave you a life of adventure, my dear,” Wanderer said with a chuckle. “That’s worth more than some old homestead ever would be.”

“Besides, callin’ it a homestead’s a little generous,” Kestrel cut in. “It was just some wooden mausoleum waitin’ for its old widow to die in.” They all had a laugh at that (well, everypony except for Miss Irons, at any rate), though that mirth slowly died away as the emotional weight of the rest of the story caught up with them. “Well… long story short, we got outta there with an extra pony, but we lost two ‘long the way. We weren’t experienced enough at the time to keep Zippy and Stonewall alive. The best we can do now is to try and keep everypony else we got with us alive ‘til we can get outta this damn country.”

“If the Revolution was won today then I would forgive your crimes for helping us here in Hoofston,” Starlight said. “Sadly, it is not. Perhaps someday soon it will succeed, and if you are still in Equestria, and still alive, I could help you. But the only thing I can do now is consider you a friend of the common pony and our fight for freedom.”

“And you ain’t half bad yourself,” Tumbleweed said. “Politics ain’t our usual venture, and for good reason, since nopony’s founded an ‘outlaws and crooks’ party that makes crime legal. But at least we could work together some on helpin’ us both get out better than where we was goin’ in.”

“Indeed.” Starlight stood up and looked back to her own acquaintences. “I should let the rest of my comrades know what our plan is. After everything that happened yesterday, we likely are far less notorious than your Gang. We can set about arranging the meeting with the Conglomerates for the ransom. Until then… best of luck to you all.”

“And you, too,” Tumbleweed said. “Because Celestia knows we all need as much of it as we can get.”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 113

Kestrel watched from the shade of her lean-to as Starlight Glimmer and the rest of her band of revolutionaries gathered up their things and slowly made their way toward the treeline, Tumbleweed accompanying them at least partway to send them off. She had an ill feeling in her gut as she watched them go, because she knew she couldn’t do anything for them if the Law or the Pinks happened to catch up to them. Starlight and her companions were likely on the same wanted list as the Gang, though hopefully the Gang’s notoriety eclipsed theirs. Hoofston wasn’t exactly a safe place for any of them anymore—not that it really had been in the first place, at any rate. But with the Pinks enraged, the Conglomerates humiliated, and the police force about to call in reinforcements through bounty hunters, there were very few places in Equestria more dangerous for the Gang than the city of Hoofston.

Hopefully they could set up their ransom and collect their payday before the Law collected their heads. They needed the money and they needed to leave the city, and the ransom was likely their best way to get money fast enough to escape before the Law clamped down on them. And after all the trouble they caused, and in a major city to boot, Kestrel was doubtful that hopping to the next town over was going to do all that much to shake the Law off their tails.

But, at the very least, those concerns were in the future, for the Kestrel of tomorrow to worry about. As things stood, the Gang would be safe by the lake for the time being. Maybe not indefinitely, but long enough to get the ransom done. So long as Starlight and her companions weren’t caught and didn’t squeal, at least. Kestrel doubted very much that Starlight would surrender them to the Pinks, but the rest of her companions? She never got the chance to get a good take on them. Would they be as resilient to interrogation if they got caught as their leader? She could only hope so.

And that thought sent her mind wandering back to the conversation she’d held with those two Pinks before the Conference, Bon Bon and Lyra. They’d tried to convince her to sell out the Gang in exchange for a pardon for her crimes and the promise that she’d be allowed to live out a quiet life somewhere in Equestria. Kestrel was far too loyal to the Gang to consider taking up such an offer like that, but would the others be the same? Would they refuse to sell out the Gang if they’d been backed into a corner and the only way to escape the gallows was to betray everypony they knew? Tumbleweed, Wanderer, and Miss Irons, Kestrel knew certainly wouldn’t. Snapshot hardly had anything to say, and Kestrel doubted the Pinks could get more out of him than the Gang ever could. Roughshod was too stubborn to surrender to the Law—he hated the Law more than anypony else in the Gang—and Silver Wings was Silver Wings. The young pegasus saw Kestrel as a sister, as had been made obviously and painfully clear from their past interactions, and she generally enjoyed the company of the rest of the Gang, thinking that the life of an outlaw was a fun escape from the life of being the daughter of plantation aristocracy. But would she crack if the Pinks got ahold of her? Would she blurt out what she knew if Bon Bon and Lyra locked her in a room and made her intimately acquainted with a baseball bat?

That thought made Kestrel deeply uncomfortable, not just because of imagining a pony she cared so deeply for subjected to that kind of cruelty, but because she wasn’t sure if Silver was tough enough to take what she knew to the grave if she was caught. And she had no doubt that Trixie would buckle over like a two-legged table if the Pinks got their hooves on her. The magician may have been baptized by fire with the distraction job in Hoofston, taking her first gunshot (even if it was a harmless graze), but one or two jobs did not make a hardened outlaw. Kestrel doubted that Trixie had the right background to become one, as she’d been reluctant since day one, but she didn’t sell out the Gang in Hoofston, and she hadn’t left them yet. Those were points in her favor at least, few as they were. Kestrel just hoped that they got through these next few months before Trixie hit her breaking point.

Sighing, Kestrel forced herself out of the shade of her lean-to and stood up, stretching out her legs and her wings. She hated the quiet that came after a big job, when all the shooting and shouting stopped and the only thing that was left was an uncomfortable quiet. At least when she was in the middle of a job, fighting for her life, the only thing she had to worry about was the here and now, who was on the other end of her sights and who had her in theirs. But once all that stopped, the dreadful weight of what the future held for her and everypony she held dear to her loomed over her and pressed down on her shoulders. She hated it more than anything else.

Pulling out a cigarette, Kestrel lit it with a match struck off of her horseshoe and placed it between her lips. Nicotine and conversation would do her wonders, she supposed. And with everypony slowly recovering from last night’s drinking and the excitement of the job, she figured there’d be plenty of ponies around who she could share some time and words with. Everypony probably had their own thoughts about what had happened yesterday. It might be worth talking to somepony to see what they had to say before the Gang got ready to spring back into action again.

With that in mind, Kestrel took a few quick drags on her cigarette, looked around camp, and found somepony to go share some words with.

Tumbleweed

Roughshod

Silver Wings

Snapshot

Wanderer

Miss Irons

Trixie

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 114

Trixie: 11 Votes

After a moment, Kestrel spied Trixie hopping out of her wagon and heading towards the lake shore, a well-worn book held in her magic. Curious, Kestrel leisurely strolled across the camp after her, taking a moment to make sure Trixie wasn’t taking care of any private business before approaching the magician. She found Trixie sitting in a flat, grassy space down by the water’s edge, where the reeds thinned out enough to reveal a mother duck and her ducklings swimming across the water, enjoying the summer day. The magician’s magic touched the cover of her book, ready to open it, before she spotted Kestrel out of the corner of her eye. The glow on her horn faded, and she turned to watch Kestrel approach, though her nose quickly rankled at the smell of Kestrel’s cigarette.

“Trixie wishes you wouldn’t do that around her,” she said, frowning at Kestrel’s cigarette as the pegasus sat down next to her. “It stinks like nothing else.”

Kestrel just shrugged and drew on her cigarette. “I’m surprised you ain’t used to the smell by now,” she said. “You been with us long enough to know that most all of us smoke, to certain extents.”

“If you don’t get killed running away from the law, then I’m sure smoking will be the end of you,” Trixie said. “I’ve heard that it can give you lung cancer if you smoke enough.”

“Pfff, uh huh. And some ponies are born with ‘bad blood’ that makes ‘em feel ill all the time.” Trixie’s warning didn’t dissuade Kestrel from tossing the cigarette away, though she did take only one more draw and then touched the end against her duster, extinguishing the ember before she tucked it away for later use. “Ain’t nothin’ gets me movin’ like a good hit from a cigarette. Not even coffee. Besides, I ain’t ever heard no doctors sayin’ that they’re bad for you. Some even say you should treat asthma with ‘em.”

“Somehow, Trixie doubts that you see a doctor for a yearly checkup,” Trixie mused, and she crossed her forelegs over her book. “But Trixie supposes that you didn’t come over here to talk about your smoking habits. What can she help you with?”

“I just wanted to see how you was doin’,” Kestrel said, nodding toward Trixie’s shoulder, where a mostly-white bandage darkened by a faint trace of brown covered her graze. “Gettin’ shot for the first time’s an experience. You can get shot a whole bunch throughout your life, but you ain’t ever gonna forget the first time. So I just wanted to make sure you was handlin’ it alright.”

Trixie glanced at her bandage and a faint twinge of pain crossed her muzzle as she rolled her shoulder. “It stings, but Trixie will survive. She’s been through worse.” She put on a proud smile, though it faltered when Kestrel raised an eyebrow. “Erm… well, if I must be honest, Kestrel, it was kind of scary. I’m not too proud to admit that…”

Kestrel shook her head and patted Trixie on the back with her wing. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong in admittin’ it. Honestly, I’m happy to hear that. What we do is scary, and at any given moment, everythin’ could go wrong. That’s just how life is when you’re wanted. And if you pretend otherwise, then you ain’t gonna be livin’ very long.”

“Well… I suppose that’s good to know,” Trixie said. Then some of the tension disappeared from her shoulders as she realized Kestrel had given her the okay to open up about how she really felt, and she shook her head. “I’m going to be honest, Kestrel. I wasn’t prepared for that many ponies to be shooting at me. I’m not sure how cut out I am for a life of gunslinging and running. When I first wanted in on the job in Rock Ridge, I was just hoping to make some quick money. But now I’ve got a lot more than I bargained for…”

“Sure, you got more than you may have been bargainin’ for, but think ‘bout all the good that came with the bad,” Kestrel said. “You got ponies that are lookin’ out for you, you got someplace to be where your talents are appreciated, and you got the chance to get more money than you probably ever made bein’ a scam artist on the road.”

Trixie pouted at that. “Trixie is not a scam artist, she’s a magician…”

“You’re a valuable member of the team, and the part you played yesterday in that little setup with Rough proves it,” Kestrel said, ignoring Trixie’s interjection. “You may not be the best at shootin’ or complicated magic, but you got a talent for grabbin’ ponies’ attention when you need to. It worked yesterday, and it’s gonna work in the future. The Gang needs you as our showmare, ‘cause frankly, you’re the best we got at it.”

The words seemed to inflate Trixie somewhat; the praise puffed out her chest and raised her head. Even Kestrel, who was far from an expert in the art of reading ponies and telling them what they wanted to hear, knew that the best way to appeal to the magician was to appeal to her ego. “Well… Trixie supposes there is nopony else like her in all of Equestria.”

“And it’s a good thing we got the one and only right here with us,” Kestrel said. She allowed herself a little bit of a smile to lighten the mood, but then she put on a carefully measured stern expression. “I’m gonna be honest, Trixie. Right now, we’re ahead of the game. We got time to enjoy ourselves a little, take a quick break from all the action we got up to yesterday. But sooner or later, there’s gonna be ponies houndin’ us. We’re gonna have to leave Hoofston and hope we end up someplace a little safer than where we’re at now. And if the Pinks ever get ahold of one of us, they’re gonna try to get everythin’ they know outta ‘em. It ain’t gonna be pretty. But so long as we stick together and trust one another, then we ain’t got anythin’ to worry about. You understand?”

Trixie slowly nodded. “Trixie’s good at making a quick getaway when she needs to,” she said. “The Pinks will have to try extra hard to bring her in alive.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Kestrel nodded once, and then her eyes drifted down toward Trixie’s book. “What’s that you got there?”

“A journal,” Trixie said, one of her hooves idly running down the spine of the book. “Trixie—I keep track of where I’ve been and what I’ve seen. It’s a habit I started when I first set out on the road. It’s… useful for getting my thoughts together after a long day. And now that I’m traveling with a band of criminals and outlaws, it gets more use than you’d think.”

“Whatever works,” Kestrel said. Then, teasingly, she added, “You write anythin’ ‘bout me in there?”

Trixie frowned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I’m askin’.” Kestrel laughed and added, “What ‘bout Rough? I bet you got plenty of things written in there ‘bout him.”

To Kestrel’s surprise, a rosy blush began to build on Trixie’s cheeks. “What Trixie writes in Trixie’s book is Trixie’s business!” she protested.

Stifling amused laughter, Kestrel shook her head and stood up. “Alright, alright. You do you, Trixie. I’ll leave you to it.” Then, snorting, she turned around and walked away, chuckling to herself all the while. “Somepony’s gonna get a ride on the ring-dang-do ‘fore too long, at this rate.”

Trixie’s loyalty to the Gang has increased.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 115

As the weekend came to a close and a new Monday dawned over Hoofston, Kestrel found the relief and excitement that came from pulling off the successful heist at the Conference to be wavering. Everypony knew that by now, the Law had to have recovered from the thrashing the Gang had given them on Friday, and it was time to play defensive until Starlight and her companions made progress on setting up Applejack’s ransom. Kestrel just hoped that the revolutionary would be faster at setting up a deal than the Pinks would be at tracking the Gang down. And the less she had to think about bounty hunters, the better…

Tumbleweed and Wanderer have recovered from their wounds and are no longer Grazed.

At least the weekend gave the Gang a chance to rest, relax, and recover before the lead inevitably started flying again. Tumbleweed felt good as new by Sunday evening, and even Wanderer felt surprisingly spry once he got his graze patched up. Kestrel still had a little bit of a lingering soreness from her injury, though, and Trixie kept poking and prodding too much at her own grazing wound to let it properly heal. Silver Wings had even threatened the magician with a paper cone to put around her head like a cat or dog to make her stop touching the injury, though Kestrel still caught Trixie occasionally sniffing at her injury when she thought nopony was watching her.

The downtime was at least useful for acclimating Gizmo to the camp… as much as a mechanical automaton needed time to adjust to its new surroundings. Wanderer had spent some time with the robot on Sunday afternoon trying to establish ground rules for it in a way that it could understand, which was made all the more difficult by the metal mare being unable to interpret what he told it in anything more than the most literal definition. At one point, he had told Gizmo to “go away” when it was hovering over his shoulder during lunch, and the robot had turned around and walked off into the plains of Hoofston before the Gang was able to find it again and bring it back to camp. But at least with some time they’d managed to get it to understand that it was not to ever leave camp without one of the Gang with it, and it should alert the nearest gang member immediately if it spotted somebody approaching the camp that wasn’t with the Gang. And, most importantly, they made sure that the automaton never, ever approached Applejack. There was still too much risk that the earth pony had some way to override Gizmo’s instructions and use the robot to escape into the night.

As for Applejack herself, the president and CEO of the Apple Conglomerates had been anything but a gracious guest, though perhaps that was to be expected, given the circumstances. The Gang left her tied to a tree at the edge of camp, close enough to keep an eye on her but far enough away so that she couldn’t interact with Gizmo, and it was plainly obvious to everypony that the mare was furious with her predicament, even if she refused to speak to anypony for anything more than an occasional request to be untied so she could relieve herself. They always had Roughshod take care of untying her and watching her when that happened; even though she was the president of a major corporation, it was plain to all that Applejack had strong muscles from years as a youth tending to orchards by hoof. Kestrel’s jaw still ached from the first time she’d untied Applejack and the earth pony thanked her by kicking her in the face and making a run for it. Thankfully, Tumbleweed was nearby to use his magic and drag the capitalist back, and both gang leaders agreed that Roughshod would be the best bet for dealing with the earth pony from now on. Applejack may have been strong, but she wasn’t that strong.

Even though the Gang laid low that weekend, it wasn’t like they could keep entirely isolated forever. They’d already spent the week before the Conference on high alert and leaving camp only when necessary, and that meant their supplies were running low. So on Monday, Miss Irons and Wanderer, masked under Trixie’s illusions, chanced a trip into town, even though it was risky. Nervous that the two elderly ponies would run into some kind of trouble in town, Kestrel spent the morning and most of the afternoon disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling her revolvers, and when those were clean, she gave the scoped rifles some care as well. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to use them again, but just in case…

She only earned some relief when Miss Irons and Wanderer returned safely with a wagon full of supplies and no Pinks to be seen. She was happy to see them back in one pice, but the looks they had on their faces and the story they told as the Gang helped unload supplies didn’t give Kestrel much cause for celebration.

Has the situation changed in Hoofston? Yes

“The Pinks already have posters up all over town,” Wanderer said as he watched Kestrel and Silver drag a wooden box of canned beans off the back of the wagon. “Mostly of your face and Tumbleweed’s, Kessie, but I saw one of mine, too. Thank Celestia that Trixie’s illusions work well for quick trips into town. Safe to say, the Pinks made sure that all of Hoofston knows who we are, and they’ll be out trying to get any information they can.”

“That ain’t change much, then,” Kestrel said, dropping the box of beans next to the chuck wagon and shrugging. “Not like we was plannin’ on showin’ our faces in Hoofston ‘til this ransom got done, anyhow.”

“No, but it does mean that even the roads going into and out of the city aren’t safe from prying eyes anymore.” Wanderer scratched an itch on his neck with a wingtip and shook his head. “Pinks’ll have patrols out on the roads, and combin’ through the countryside. Might be they’ll come across us sooner or later. I just don’t want to be caught sitting on my tail when they do.”

“They won’t find us,” Silver said. “Not before we ransom Applejack and get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself, missy,” Miss Irons chastised her. The elderly mare frowned at Silver. “Overconfidence will just served to get us all killed.”

“We could go hunt them down for a change,” Roughshod said, jumping into the conversation. “I bet we can scare them back from lookin’ ‘round the countryside if a few of their patrols go missin’.”

“Or we could try and ambush a patrol and find out what they know about us,” Wanderer said. “Exposing ourselves could be dangerous, but the rewards would make it worth it. We’ve been running from the Pinks, but so far we’ve been running blind. It’d be nice to know what they know and then use that to our advantage.”

Kestrel frowned at the crate of whiskey bottles in the back of the wagon and thought.

Do nothing. Silvie’s got the best idea of it; any runnin’ ‘round’s just gonna get us in trouble. We just gotta hope for the best, hope that the Pinks don’t find us ‘fore we can get this ransom deal pulled off.

Ambush a Pink patrol. If we can find one of them patrols on its lonesome, then maybe Wanderer’s plan’s the best way to go forward. If we know what the Pinks are plannin’, and how much they know ‘bout us, it might serve us well in the long run. Course, attackin’ a Pink patrol could just intensify their activity in the area.

Hit the Pinks hard. If we find and start massacring Pink patrols, then they might fall back, like Roughshod thinks. We won’t have an opportunity to go takin’ prisoners if we hit these patrols hard and fast to minimize risk to ourselves, but scarin’ ‘em back’ll be better than riskin’ ourselves to find things out.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 116

Do nothing: 12 Votes

“Takin’ action of any kind’s only like to make the situation worse,” Kestrel said, dragging the crate of whiskey forward so she and Silver could take it out of the wagon. “We’re like to get hurt chasin’ and shootin’ Pinks, and who’s to say if they even know anythin’ useful? Might be that we’re puttin’ ourselves in harm’s way for nothin’. On top of that, might be that we just make the Pinks angrier rather than scarin’ ‘em off. I reckon our best bet’s just to lie low and wait until this whole ransom thing happens, then make the trade and get on outta here.”

Roughshod looked unpersuaded. “I ain’t a fan of sittin’ ‘round doin’ nothin’, Kessie,” he said. “That’s just waitin’ for the Pinks to find us and gun us all down in our sleep. I’d rather go out standin’ and fightin’.”

“I’d rather not go out at all,” Kestrel retorted. “If I wanted to die gunslingin’, I’d just walk into Hoofston and shoot a few rounds at the police. I’d die standin’ and fightin’ for sure when the whole department’s out after me. But it ain’t gonna mean much in the long run.” She grunted as she and Silver lifted the whiskey crate off of the wagon and set it aside, then raised an eyebrow at Roughshod. “But don’t let me stop you from gettin’ yourself killed, if that’s what you really really want.”

“I’m sure that’d just make your day.” Roughshod snorted, dragged a sack of potatoes out of the wagon with his teeth, and tossed it into the pile with the rest of the provisions by the chuck wagon. “I ain’t ‘bout to go and get myself killed on purpose, much as that’d disappoint you. But when the time comes, I ain’t gonna run with my tail ‘tween my legs. I’ll give ‘em hell and take as many as I can down with me.”

“And I’m sure we’ll all remember your noble sacrifice,” Miss Irons cut in, frowning at the stallion. “Until then, it’s best to do as Kestrel says. Nopony can escape from every fight unscathed. The more fights we have, the smaller the chance we’ll have of getting everypony out of Equestria alive.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kestrel said. She put an end to the discussion by dismissively flapping her wings and slapping the back of the empty wagon. “Rough, move the wagon off to the side of camp. We’re done here.”

Though she was sure Roughshod had more to say, the stallion kept it to himself, sparing Kestrel only a look before he went around the wagon to move it away. Wanderer and Miss Irons watched him go, then nodded to Kestrel and Silver before they too went their separate ways, leaving the two mares by themselves.

Silver chewed on the inside of her lip. “I just hope this is the right call,” she said. “Things are… well, they ain’t pretty. I feel like a mouse in a room full of mousetraps. One wrong move and snap!”

“It ain’t gonna get better from here on out, I can assure you that,” Kestrel said. “We can shake some heat by movin’ to the next town over, but we’ve riled up the hornets’ nest too much to go back to where we was when we got to Rock Ridge. Everypony knows we’re here on this side of the San Palomino. The net’s gettin’ smaller and smaller by the day, and our chances of gettin’ out of it are gettin’ slimmer and slimmer.”

“Guess we ain’t goin’ back ‘cross the San Palomino, then?”

“I don’t think we’d survive the second trip,” Kestrel said. “We barely survived the first one. Ran out of water the day before we reached Rock Ridge. I ain’t keen on tryin’ it again.”

“Me neither.” Silver shuddered at the thought, and she looked around the camp. “Well, if we ain’t doin’ nothin’, then that means we’re stuck here for the next few days. I’m gettin’ real sick of doin’ nothin’ in camp.”

“Me too,” Kestrel agreed. “But it ain’t like we got much of a choice if we wanna get outta this one alive. And there’s only so much I can drink and smoke to pass the time.”

Silver rubbed her wing under her chin. “You get a chance to talk to Applejack yet?” she asked. “She’s somethin’ new in camp, at least.”

“The most talkin’ to her I’ve done is when we got our outta the conference… and then when she bucked me in the jaw tryin’ to make a break for it the other day.” After a moment, Kestrel shrugged. “Ah, hell. Why not. Let’s go see what the fat cat’s gotta say.”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

Short chapter today, as I'm trying to get things organized for the next main event in the story. Hopefully we'll be able to get to it before too long.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 117

The two mares made their way across the camp to where Applejack sat tied to a tree. She was certainly an amusing sight, Kestrel had to give her that. The president and CEO of the Apple Conglomerates sat with her back to the tree, ropes wrapping around her midsection and the tree’s trunk and pinning her forelegs to her sides, and even her rear hooves had been bound together by another section of rope, at Roughshod’s urging after her attempt to break free. Not only would it make it more difficult for the mare to make a run for it if she did slip her ropes, but preventing an earth pony from planting their hooves in the ground and getting leverage that way was extremely important in keeping them contained. Kestrel had no doubts that Applejack tried to work her way out of the ropes when everypony else was sleeping in the middle of the night, but so far, she hadn’t made any progress in her escape plans. Definitely not when the ropes were retied every day after she was released to do her business, under careful supervision.

She had been trying to work some slack into the ropes when Kestrel and Silver approached, the older gunslinger noted, but she immediately froze and slouched back when she saw the two pegasi coming closer. The look of concentration on her face faded into one of contempt, and she pointedly looked down at the ground, refusing to acknowledge the outlaws’ presence. The absurdity of it just made Kestrel laugh. Why did hostages always feel the need to be disrespectful toward their captors, as if they had anything to prove? A hostage was still a hostage, no matter how they acted.

“Messin’ with your ropes, Miss Apple?” Kestrel teased the orange mare, stopping just outside of the reach of Applejack’s hind legs. The earth pony might have been tied up, but Kestrel wasn’t going to chance getting a buck to the face if she could help it. “If they ain’t snug enough for your likin’, just let one of us know. We’ll be happy to go fix ‘em for you.”

The industrialist just glowered in silence, and Kestrel rolled her eyes and sat down on her flank across the dirt and grass from the Gang’s captive. “Oh, cut it out, will ya?” Kestrel asked her. “Listen, I get that bein’ tied to a tree’s a far cry from callin’ on your zebra servants in the luxury of some Manehattan high rise apartment, but a little campin’ in nature’s good for the soul. Pair it off with some friendly chatter, and you’ve got the makin’s of a mighty fine time in the great outdoors. So, why not indulge us for a little bit with some talk?”

After a moment, that managed to drag a response out of Applejack, though it was hardly a conversational one. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you two,” Applejack said, and her angry green eyes met Kestrel’s for a moment. “Ain’t nothin’ to be gained by bandyin’ words with a pair of dishonest outlaws.”

“Distraction from boredom, for one,” Silver said, taking her seat next to Kestrel. “Believe it or not, we get bored, too. A little chit-chat will help us all pass the time with somethin’ interestin’ to focus on!”

Applejack looked skeptical, to say the least, but Kestrel didn’t much care; she and Silver were either going to talk to or talk at their prisoner, and if Applejack decided to respond or not, that much was on her. Rather than wait to see if Applejack agreed to talk or not, Kestrel quickly led in with a question for her captive audience. “I got somethin’ I kinda wanna know,” she said. “You ain’t seem like the other rich and powerful ponies we’ve robbed over the years. Most of ‘em were fat off of their wealth and decidedly… urban, guess I should say. But you look like a country girl gussied up in a suit. If it weren’t for that suit and attitude, I’d think youse almost one of us country bumpkins.”

That at least got a snort out of Applejack, though Kestrel couldn’t tell if it was from amusement or derision. “I weren’t born into money,” she said. “Not like most of them old families in Manehattan. I worked for everythin’ I had. My family’s big, and we owned millions of acres of apple orchards all across Equestria. All it took was somepony willin’ to work hard enough to go and get all them orchards workin’ in unison for the family, and then takin’ that money and investin’ it back into the orchards. You can build a business big and fast with enough hard work and blood, sweat, and tears. Honesty, too. Not that I’d expect outlaws to understand none of that.”

“Stealin’s its own business, too,” Kestrel countered. “Why, we’re practically both the same, you and us. We both lie, cheat, and steal to get what we want. Only difference is it’s legal when you do it but it ain’t when we do it.”

“I never lie,” Applejack insisted, glaring at Kestrel. “I built this business on honesty and no-nonsense deals. Everypony knows what they’re gettin’ when they deal with the Conglomerates. We ain’t gonna hide anythin’ in fine print like some of our competitors. We make up for it with a quality product, somethin’ the average Equestrian can truly appreciate.”

“You got a lotta products for a bunch of apple farmers though,” Silver Wings noted. “How’s a family ownin’ apple orchards go to makin’ a robot like Gizmo?” As if to emphasize her point, she extended her wing and gestured toward the robot carefully dragging a barrel of water back from the lake, no doubt fulfilling Miss Irons’ request for water to start preparing the night’s stew in. “Seems like a pretty big leap in direction, you ask me.”

“We made money sellin’ crops and produce, so we used that money to buy out the distributors we sold the crops to,” Applejack said. “Then we bought the processin’ plants and factories, bought up the canneries as well. And when you got plants and factories, you can make a whole lot more things than just apples and apple products.” She likewise shifted her attention to Gizmo. “The Workhorse of Tomorrow’s an extension of that. You get a bunch of robots workin’ the fields, you ain’t gotta pay for labor. They ain’t as good as ponies, but they don’t get tired and they ain’t gonna go on strike to unionize. That means more bits to everypony we employ, not just myself.”

Kestrel shook her head. “Everypony wants to think that they’re the only righteous soul in the room. What ‘bout them apple pickers Gizmo’s sisters are gonna replace? Doesn’t sound like they’ll be thankin’ you for cuttin’ labor costs.”

“That’s just business,” Applejack insisted. “You really want to look for a pony who’s bad to her workers? Look at what Miss Belle is doin’ with her textile mills. She’s got foals as young as six workin’ looms and losin’ ears and tails in her sweatshops, all for five bits a day. And on the contrary, I made my Conference open to all the ponies of Hoofston, full of fun and games alongside the exhibits, for two bits a head. Don’t complain to me ‘bout my business just ‘cause the Apple Family’s the richest family in Equestria when you got ponies gettin’ away with the things Miss Belle is.”

“Guess we know who we should rob next, then,” Kestrel said. “Sounds like Miss Belle’s got more bits than she can shake her horn at. We’ll keep that in mind for after we ransom you off to your family. Youse a pretty pricey pony, y’know.”

Applejack’s expression soured at that. “I knew that’s what you been keepin’ me here for. You should just be thankful you nabbed me and not my little sister. I woulda made Tartarus look like a summer vacation for the lot of you.”

Kestrel remembered that doing exactly that had been one of Starlight’s plans, and was thankful that they hadn’t gone with that one instead of crashing the Conference. “Yes, and after we go our separate ways, I hope you ain’t gonna try lookin’ for us. We find you’re out after us once you’re back home with your family, we ain’t gonna take too kindly to that. Might be we nab your sister after all, should we find ponies on your payroll sniffin’ after us. We’d give her back alright… but we’d need a few boxes, first.”

That little threat left Applejack bristling, and Kestrel decided there that their conversation was over. She stood up, and Silver did the same, regarding the angry earth pony with wary eyes. Kestrel, for her part, just took off her hat and gave Applejack a little bow. “But it ain’t gonna come to that, right? I think we can all go our own ways when this thing’s all done with. It works out great for everypony; we leave a little richer, and you ain’t ever gonna find us in your hair again. I’d think on it if I was you; it’s a great deal, when you look at the ins and outs.”

She flipped her hat back onto her head and turned around. “Pleasure speakin’ with you,” she called out over her shoulder as she walked away. “We should do it again, sometime.”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 118

Applejack didn’t bother anypony from the Gang for the rest of the day, nor did she make any more escape attempts, knowing that the Gang was just going to ransom her back to her company alive and unharmed, so long as she cooperated. A dark mood hung over her ever since Kestrel threatened her younger sister, but that didn’t bother Kestrel much. She would seeth and rage if somepony captured her and then threatened the Gang if she continued to cause trouble for those ponies in the future, but after a little bit to cool down and think about it, she’d be less inclined to bother those ponies again, for fear of a terrible retaliation. Hopefully Applejack would be much the same way; so long as the Conglomerates didn’t get involved in bringing the Gang to justice once the ransom was done, then she wouldn’t have to worry about anything bad happening to her little sister, and the ponies would never have to see each other ever again.

She did go and share what she learned with Tumbleweed over a bottle of beer after dinner, however. Applejack had provided them with the possibility of another target to go after to get their money, and Kestrel was happy for the excuse to not keep picking on the Apple Conglomerates after the ransom deal, knowing that only bad things could come out of it. Miss Belle and her textile empire, on the other hoof… that was a promising target.

Which was an idea that Tumbleweed agreed with. “The Apple Conglomerates are wealthy, but they got so many family members runnin’ the dang thing you ain’t gonna see an obscene amount of wealth on any one of ‘em on their own,” he said. “Miss Belle, on the other hoof, ain’t got nowhere near as much family as Applejack. It’s just her and her little sister, but even then, her sister’s too young to be a part of runnin’ the business. All that money’s sittin’ under her hooves and her hooves alone.”

“Maybe we shoulda gone after her instead of the Conglomerates,” Kestrel said. “She’s got a big office here in Hoofston. That wagon we robbed in Rock Ridge was on its way here ‘fore loadin’ the goods on a train back to Manehattan. We mighta walked outta this whole ordeal much richer than robbin’ Applejack and her family.”

“The opportunities didn’t align themselves,” Tumbleweed said. “We met Starlight and she pointed us to a golden opportunity for the Conglomerates we could immediately seize on for some quick bits. There weren’t no guarantees that we’d be able to find an openin’ in Miss Belle’s businesses here in Hoofston that would be better than what we got from the conference.”

He paused for a moment, finished off the last of the beer in his bottle, and chucked it aside, before his magic dug a cigar and a match out of his vest pocket. “Hoofston ain’t one of her biggest headquarters, if I’m rememberin’ correctly. She’s got a pretty big one a bit further east in New Oatleans. The city itself’s a big tradin’ hub with ships comin’ and goin’ from all across the world. Perfect place for a mare who makes textiles and fancy dresses to pack ‘em up and ship ‘em out. Plenty of immigrants and their children, too. Easy place to pick up cheap child labor, if what Miss Applejack is sayin’ is true.”

“Guess that’s where we’re headin’ next, then,” Kestrel said. “Seems like our best place to go. Plus, havin’ a port right nearby’ll be a boon for us, supposin’ we get the bits we need to get outta Equestria while in New Oatleans. Then we can just hop on a ship and set sail.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, but it’s a nice though,” Tumbleweed said. “We still got fifty-some thousand bits we need to get outta Equestria. We’ll get ten thousand more if we pull this ransom off, but that still only puts us a little under halfway for the eight of us. It ain’t likely we gonna find forty thousand bits we can pull from Miss Belle in one go, but we certainly can dream.”

Kestrel hummed her acknowledgement and looked out over the camp, where the rest of the Gang had gathered around the campfire to listen to Wanderer and Miss Irons trade stories from their youth. Kestrel would have wanted nothing more than to conjure up the bits needed to give all of her friends a safe life somewhere away from Equestria with one last heist, but unless they robbed Miss Belle’s personal bank, they weren’t likely to get that much in one go. “I’ll keep dreamin’, alright. Maybe one of these days my dreams’ll come true.”

“Maybe the Mare in the Moon’ll come and visit you one night, and bless us all by makin’ your dreams come true,” Tumbleweed teased her. “I’d certainly like to have a goddess’ blessin’s on our side for once.”

Has the situation in Hoofston changed? Yes

Kestrel snickered, but her ears twitched at wings beating against the night air. She looked upwards, spotting a figure descending into camp, its dark figure blotting out stars in the night sky, and her wings immediately went to her revolvers. She drew them as the pegasus landed in camp, hammers readied to fire, and only recognized the blue mare at the last moment as one of Starlight’s companions.

For her part, Night Glider froze in place when she realized she had two revolvers pointed at her face, and she didn’t dare move until Kestrel muttered a relieved (if annoyed) curse under her breath and set her revolvers down on the table. “I’m… guessing I should have announced myself by the roadside,” she said with a sheepish grin.

“That woulda been a good idea,” Tumbleweed said, frowning at her. Then he pulled a seat back with his magic for Night Glider to join them at the table. “The last thing a bunch of outlaws like is gettin’ surprised. A lot of surprises in our line of work usually end up with somepony dead, and we make damn sure that it ain’t gonna be us.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind, then.”

“So,” Kestrel began, sitting back in her chair and letting her racing heart calm back down now that she was certain the Gang wasn’t about to get attacked by bounty hunters or Pinks. “What’s the news?”

“Starlight’s set up a ransom at the quarry north of Hoofston,” Night Glider said. “It’s far away enough from the city that the police and the PPDA won’t stumble across it on their own. Now, if they’re brought there by the Conglomerates, that’s another issue altogether, but Starlight made it clear that if any funny stuff happened, Applejack would be dead before anypony could blink.”

“And they agreed to our terms?” Tumbleweed asked. “Twenty thousand bits in exchange for Miss Applejack?”

“They did,” Night Glider said. “It’s happening in two days at dawn. Each side can only bring two ponies into the quarry. Starlight and the rest of us are acting as the intermediaries. They’ll give us the bits first, and once we count that they’re good, then you all bring Applejack down into the quarry, and we go our separate ways.”

Kestrel frowned as she tried to picture the lay of the land; she’d only seen the quarry from a distance, but there were things that were common to all quarries by their nature. “If we’re doin’ this meetin’ in the middle of the quarry, that means the exchange is happenin’ in the low ground,” she said. “Ponies with rifles can get posted up on the cliffs and heights and control everythin’ happenin’ down below. Fightin’ our way out won’t be easy, if it comes down to it.”

“But neither will it be easy for them,” Tumbleweed countered. “They’re goin’ to have ponies on the cliffs with guns. We know that much. We can do the same, make use of them scoped rifles we got in Rock Ridge. It’ll help keep things evenly matched. So long as we scout the area beforehoof and make sure that the Conglomerates didn’t bring any friends of theirs, then it’s the best we can hope for, really. If this deal’s honest, then we ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. If it ain’t, then there weren’t any way we woulda been able to do this ransom at all.” After a moment to think it over, he nodded to Night Glider. “Go and let Starlight know that we’re in. We’ll make our own plans here; sounds like if you lot are bein’ the intermediaries, you got your own plannin’ to do to make sure this thing works fair and square.”

“I will,” Night Glider said, and she pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’ll let you know if anything changes between now and then. Oh, and I’ll, uh, make sure to come in announced next time.”

“We would all be much obliged,” Kestrel said, and within moments, the dark pegasus lifted off again, her dark blue coat melting into the dark blue of the night sky, and her wingbeats fading into the distance.”

Tumbleweed finally lit his cigar and stuck it in his mouth, taking a few seconds to nurse the ember on the end until it was strong enough to keep burning on his own. “Only two ponies’ll be goin’ down into the quarry,” he said to himself, thinking out loud. His eyes then shifted to Kestrel. “I’m goin’ to be one of ‘em. Only fair that the leader of our little gang does things face to face. Where should I put you, Kessie? Where do you think you’ll be the most help?”

In the quarry. If Tumbleweed’s gonna go in as the Gang’s number one, then I oughta be beside him as its number two. At least I can move ‘round the quarry more freely with my wings, should the need arise.

On the cliffs. Best place to be is on the cliffs with a gun. I ain’t good at talkin’, and I ain’t strong enough to really rassle with Applejack should she try to make a run for it or somethin’. I am good at shootin’, though, and so that’s where I’d be put best.

In the skies. Get me a cloud and a rifle to watch things from above, and I can see a lot more of the surroundin’ countryside, and I might be able to spot any incoming trouble ‘fore it gets to us. I ain’t gonna have anywhere to hide, though; anypony lookin’ for a pegasus in the sky’s just gonna have to look for a stationary cloud hoverin’ over the ground, and they’ll know where I’ll be easy as that. On top of that, I ain’t gonna hear nothin’ that’s happenin’ in the quarry with all the wind in the sky.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 119

On the cliffs: 8 Votes

“You ain’t gonna want me in the quarry with you, that’s for sure,” Kestrel said after a moment to think things over. “I ain’t the strongest nor the toughest, and my wings mean nothin’ if I’ve got ponies already above me shootin’ down on me. I’d probably be best up on the cliffs; Silvie’s our fastest pegasus, and she’s got sharp eyes, so I’d put her on the cloud and pull watch for us.”

“True enough,” Tumbleweed agreed. “I’d like to have our best shooters up on the cliffs with our best guns anyhow. That means you and Snapshot for sure. We’ll figure out where to put everypony else once we have a word with the rest of ‘em. Speakin’ of which…”

At that, Tumbleweed popped his cigar out of his mouth, keeping it aloft in his magic, and turned to face the rest of the Gang over by the fire. A second flare up of his horn seized ahold of the tin cup on the table in front of him, and he clattered it against the table a couple of times to get the attention of everypony else. When they looked his way, pulled out of one of Wanderer’s many engrossing stories, the unicorn gestured for the crew to come closer. “Gather ‘round, folks,” he said. “We got some talkin’ to do about this upcomin’ ransom.”

Wanderer chuckled and gingerly rose from his seat, offering Miss Irons a hoof to help her do the same as the rest of the Gang began to move. “I’ll finish that story another time,” he assured them. “But matters of life and death do come first. I figured that blue pegasus flying in was the harbinger of something to come.”

“Trixie didn’t even see her,” Trixie said, her eyes suddenly darting skyward as if she could catch a glimpse of Night Glider flitting between the stars above them. “She was here?”

“You have to keep your eyes open,” Miss Irons scolded her. “Don’t ever let your guard down because you think you’re safe. Ignorance is hardly bliss when you’re an outlaw, it’s the difference between life and death.”

Trixie frowned, but Roughshod gave her a little pat on the shoulder as the Gang formed up around Tumbleweed and Kestrel. It was Silver that seized the first opportunity to speak. “So? Is the ransom happenin’ or not? I’m tired of sittin’ on my flank waitin’ for things to happen. I can’t even go for a leisurely flight in case some Pinks happen to spot me from afar, and my wings need the exercise.”

“Then you’ll be happy to hear that you’ll be gettin’ some,” Tumbleweed assured her. Then he broaded his address to the rest of the group. “Night Glider just dropped in real quick-like to let us know that Starlight and her little posse have arranged our ransom with the Apple Conglomerates in two days’ time. The spot’s the quarry north of town, at dawn. Starlight’s group’s actin’ as the third party intermediary between us and the Conglomerates—I guess with how much heat we picked up, she and her crew ain’t on the Conglomerates’ watch list after the Conference job. They’re playin’ themselves off as distanced from us to set this thing up, and if it works, then all the better.”

“They’re only lettin’ two ponies go down into the bottom of the quarry where the tradeoff’s gonna happen,” Kestrel said, picking up for Tumbleweed. “Now, we ain’t dumb enough to believe that they ain’t gonna try to pull somethin’ if they think they can get away with it. The deal’s happenin’ in the low ground of the quarry, so they’ll be certain to have rifles up on the cliffs lookin’ down into the middle. We’d be best served doin’ the same, and better yet, we should put somepony in the clouds to watch the surroundin’ area, make sure that this ain’t an obvious trap that we’re stumblin’ into.”

That made Silver perk up. “Is that where I fit in?”

“Yes it is, Silvie,” Tumbleweed said. “We’re gonna have you set up a few clouds over the quarry and go hide in one, makin’ sure you can see the whole area without bein’ noticed. You can take a rifle, too, to make sure that you can shoot down on ‘em if we need you to, but the most important thing’s to keep your eyes peeled and watch out for yourself. We don’t need you gettin’ shot outta the sky on us.”

“Pshh, they ain’t ever gonna see me up there,” Silver said, her wings momentarily opening in excitement. “I’ll blend right in, easy peasy.”

“Good.” Tumbleweed nodded his approval. “I’m gonna go into the quarry with Applejack to make the trade. I’ll take one other pony with me; we’ll figure out who in a bit. The rest of you, save for Miss Irons, will be up on the cliffs to help out should things go sideways.”

Trixie tapped her hooves together. “Erm… Trixie isn’t exactly the greatest with guns… should she still be coming to help out with this?”

“You said you was familiar with the quarry before we pulled off the Conference heist,” Kestrel said. “Might be that your knowledge comes in handy durin’ the ransom. Even if you can’t shoot a rifle to save your life, you’ll still be useful to us to take along.”

“Maybe we can put her down in the quarry with Tumbleweed,” Silver suggested. “She’s almost as good as talkin’ and lyin’ as he is!”

“At any rate, we ain’t gonna sit idle ‘til the ransom,” Tumbleweed said. “Likely it’s that the Conglomerates tipped off the Pinks and the police ‘bout what’s goin’ down at this ransom. Even if they don’t try to get us, could be that the Pinks’ll be ready to leap soon as it’s over. Truth is, we ain’t gonna be able to loiter in Hoofston after we pull this deal off. Which is why tomorrow, we need to pack things up and start movin’ toward New Oatleans. It’s our best bet for more bits, and the city’s big enough we should be able to hide from the Pinks easier. We’ll load the wagons up, get them situated someplace safe by tomorrow night, then go do the ransom the followin’ mornin’ and get outta there ‘fore anypony can track us down. Miss Irons, you and Gizmo will guard the wagons, and we’ll meet back up with you two soon as we can.”

“Ain’t anything new to me,” Miss Irons said. “Guess I’ll have company with the metal mare, though. Maybe I’ll find what Wanderer sees in her.”

“Well, she doesn’t scold me as much, for one thing,” Wanderer said, winking at the elderly mare.

Kestrel cut in to save Wanderer’s hide from Miss Irons’ wrath in front of the rest of the Gang—she’d probably still get him when they were alone, but that wasn’t her concern. “That’s the plan we got, anyhow, and it’s the one we gotta run with. All we need now is to figure out who’s gonna go down into the quarry with Tumbleweed. So, Rough, Wanderer, Trixie… any volunteers?”

Roughshod. The big guy’s the toughest one we got, and he’s the strongest, too. But he’s a better shot than both Trixie and Wanderer, so we might want him on the cliffs too… not to mention he’s like to say somethin’ down there we’re all like to regret.

Wanderer. Wanderer’s got a silver tongue almost as good as Tumbleweed’s, and he’s got wings to get him outta danger quick, should it show its ugly face. But he’s gettin’ old, and throwin’ him right into the middle of danger makes me worried.

Trixie. Trixie’s best use for us is knowledge of the area and the ability to keep up with Tumbleweed in a conversation, and she sure ain’t gonna be helpful with a gun on the cliffs, but I ain’t sure she got what it takes to go into the belly of the beast and do everythin’ right should somethin’ go sideways.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 121

The cliff walls at the midpoint: 8 Votes

“Hmmmm… Ah, to hell with it,” Kestrel said, ruffling her feathers and setting her wings comfortably against her sides. “We ain’t in the business of doin’ nothin’ small. Why not plant a bomb and get set to blow it up should we need to? That’s as good a way as any to make a statement on our way outta the door.”

Trixie regarded the crumbling cliff side and frowned. “Well… Trixie supposes she can set it up to work. Some gunpowder in the right spots will take the whole cliff down. It’s just… the last time Trixie tried to use explosives to help us out, it didn’t exactly go so well…”

Kestrel shook her head as memories of the nearly-botched train robbery came back to her. Not derailing the train had nearly gotten her and Silver killed, and if something went wrong here, there was even less margin for error, considering the position they Gang would be in trying to defend the cliff. But Trixie was skilled with her explosives, and that miscue in Rock Ridge had to be a one-time fluke. There wouldn’t be any problems pulling it off this time… right?

“Well, I’ll hope that you learned what went wrong back there in Rock Ridge, and you ain’t gonna let it happen again.” Kestrel lightly slapped Trixie on the back with a wing and turned the two of them away from the quarry. “Anyhow, let’s start makin’ our way back to camp. We gotta report back on what we wanna do now that we know where to set up shop. There’s a million and a half ways this thing could go tomorrow, and I wanna make sure that we’re the ones with the initiative to play our cards rather than gettin’ caught on the back hoof. Ain’t nothin’ more dangerous than bein’ forced to react instead of bein’ the ones actin’.”

“Trixie supposes that makes sense…”

The two mares trotted out of the quarry, making sure that nopony was walking along the road that ran past it when they emerged from behind the ‘NO TRESPASSING’ sign. Then, taking a leisurely stroll back in the direction of camp, they set off along the roads to the west of Hoofston, at least until Kestrel spotted a glint of silver flying through the sky in the direction of the quarry. Pausing, Kestrel looked up, stuck her feathers in her mouth, and let out a shrill whistle, a piercing noise that made Trixie flatten her ears against her skull and take a step back. Within moments, the silver speck in the sky changed course, and quickly circled down to the road to join them.

“Oh, there you are,” Silver Wings said, alighting on the ground with four clops of her hooves and tucking her feathers back into her folded wings. “We just finished puttin’ things away back at camp. Or, well, the rest of the Gang did. Tumbleweed had me flyin’ ‘round this mornin’ lookin’ for a good spot to go and park the wagons overnight so we can get outta here soon as the ransom deal goes down tomorrow mornin’.”

“You find anythin’ good, then?” Kestrel asked her. “Usually I’m the one pickin’ the spots, so I hope you’re livin’ up to my standards.”

“I know how to find a spot good enough, Kessie,” Silver said, playfully sticking her tongue out at the older mare. “Found a spot along the road about three miles north of the quarry. The trees come together on both sides over the road, so ain’t nopony gonna see anythin’ from above, and there’s a bend in the path with enough grass on the outside to go fit our wagons for the night. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem; ponies goin’ along that road are just gonna think that we’re more travelers stoppin’ for the night ‘fore we continue on with our journey.”

“So long as we ain’t got no Pinks goin’ along that road,” Kestrel said. “Place like that, we’d be hemmed in good. Ain’t nothin’ nopony could do but stand and fight. Trees ain’t gonna be far enough apart to fit wagons through ‘em if they’re close enough together to get a solid canopy over the road.”

“It’ll be fine, Kessie,” Silver insisted. “I know you’re pretty worried and all, but we’re gonna get outta this in one piece. Now, how ‘bout the quarry? Find anythin’ useful?”

“We found a place where we can trigger a rockslide with some of Trixie’s fireworks,” Kestrel said. “Might be useful should we come to blows with the Apples. Or if the Pinks are there. Anypony down in the canyon’s gonna have a bad day.”

“That’ll definitely start a fight,” Silver said. “I thought the whole idea was to get outta this thing without a fight?”

“We can only control how we wanna act. If the Apples ain’t gonna play fair with us, helps to have some tricks up our sleeve.” Then Kestrel gestured along the road. “Well? How’s ‘bout you show us where we’ll be spendin’ the night? It’ll help if the three of us get a bit to look at it and feel it out ‘fore the rest of the Gang shows up.”

“Sure,” Silver said, and she turned around to start walking north up the road. “This way; it ain’t too far. Should be there in an hour or so.”

Silver’s estimate wasn’t too far off, and in just a little over an hour, the three mares found the spot Silver had scouted out. A dense copse of trees grew around a road cutting east and west north of Hoofston, which a sign helpfully marked as one of the roads to New Oatleans. The uppermost branches of the trees weaved together into a dense canopy, casting the dirt road in spotty, flickering shadows. The section of trees was only about half a mile long, with the bend Silver found sitting squarely in the middle of it, where the eastbound road jogged north for a bit before turning east again once it exited the trees. From that bend, the ends of the tree ‘tunnel’ were plainly visible. The Gang would be able to see who was coming in from both sides, so they would at least have that little advantage going for them, should it come down to it.

“This’ll do,” Kestrel said, nodding approvingly once she scouted the area out. “We can circle up the wagons for cover if we’re attacked and fall back into the trees if need be. So long as nopony comes at us from through the trees, then this is pretty defensible.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Silver said. “And I ain’t thinkin’ this road’s gonna be too traveled. At least, not between tonight and tomorrow mornin’. Ponies ain’t gonna wanna go through a dark place like this when they could get robbed by outlaws hidin’ out in here… like ourselves.”

Trixie looked up and down the road and furrowed her brow. “Trixie always tried to avoid roads like this, or at least go through them with other ponies, when she was still traveling. She’s been mugged too many times to not learn that lesson.”

“And now you got a bunch of friends with guns to keep you safe,” Kestrel assured her. “Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout. Now, I ain’t sure ‘bout you two, but I’m gonna catch a nap under one of these trees ‘til the rest of the Gang shows up. Ain’t gonna get much sleep tonight, I know. Gotta get some saved up now so I can spend it tomorrow.” Yawning, she picked a tree and sat down against it, her wing pulling her hat from the top of her head and using it to cover her eyes. “Wake me up if Pinks start killin’ us. Or not. Dyin’ in my sleep’s probably the best I can hope for in life, at this point.”

It took most of the day before the Gang finally showed up at the spot Silver had picked out for them. Roughshod pulled in their supply wagon first off, followed by Tumbleweed and Snapshot moving Trixie’s wagon, and they parked them off the road in the bend, each angled slightly to provide the most protection from each end of the road. The mood among the outlaws was tense and quiet, just as it always was right before another guaranteed brush with death. No amount of music, singing, or joking around could cover up the tension there.

Kestrel reported in with what she’d seen at the quarry and what the plan was as soon as Tumbleweed had a minute free to listen to it. When she was done, Tumbleweed set about moving the Gang members into action to prepare for what they were about to attempt. He made sure Trixie spent the night improvising some demolition charges to take down the cliff face should they need it, and tasked her and Snapshot with getting the charges into position before the sun came up in the morning. Silver would accompany them to help set it up, then get some clouds into position and pick a perch to watch the thing from above. Hopefully, as the day unfolded, Silver would be able to tell where everypony around the quarry was, and serve as a lookout in case something seemed fishy. Then the two Gang leaders distanced themselves from the rest of the Gang to discuss some of the finer details of the plan in private.

“It’s gonna be risky, ain’t no way of gettin’ ‘round it,” Tumbleweed mused, the orange glow in the end of his cigar the only illuminating light under the dense canopy, save for whatever silver moonlight could pierce the drying leaves of the trees around them.

“Think we knew that, ‘fore this whole thing got set up,” Kestrel answered back. “But we at least got the opportunity to drop a surprise on the Apples ‘fore they pull one on us.”

“Our surprise ain’t gonna mean much if they surprise us first.” Tumbleweed frowned, and a few specks of glowing ash fell from his cigar like a couple of orange raindrops dancing on the air currents to the ground below. “This whole thing’s held in good faith that neither of us are gonna start shootin’ first. I know the Apples ain’t gonna trust us much to hold to that part of the bargain, same as we don’t trust them much either.”

“Starlight and her group are supposed to be acting as intermediaries,” Kestrel said. “They’re gonna make sure everythin’ goes down fine.”

“One hopes.” Several moments of uncomfortable silence hung in the air, the only noise around the two ponies coming from mosquitos and the hooting of an owl. “I hate playin’ the waitin’ game. You know that. I always prefer to be actin’ rather than reactin’.”

“You know I’m the same way, boss.”

“So why are we settin’ ourselves up to react?” Tumbleweed pursed his lips in thought, the cigar light casting eerie shadows around his muzzle. “We got a bomb placed on the cliffs. That’ll surprise the Apples to no end. In that confusion, we can cut ‘em down fast. Once they’re dealt with, we take the money and scram. Then we can shoot our lovely guest of ours to tie up the last loose end or just let her go with a warnin’. Either way, it lets us act. We ain’t gonna be the ones who get caught on the back hoof.”

Kestrel winced as she thought through Tumbleweed’s proposed plan. She considered herself a mare of honor; could betraying a ransom held in good faith be worth the potential benefits from it? She supposed it came down to whether the Apples were planning on keeping their side of the bargain or if it was just a trap to wipe out the Gang and get Applejack back without having to part with any money. The Gang had tested so many bear traps by stick their hoof into the middle and yanking it out right as the teeth started to close. One of these days, they weren’t going to be fast enough.

Would tomorrow be that day? Or was she just worrying about it too much?

Hold the ransom in good faith. We can’t afford to run our word through the dirt. The fact that the Apple Conglomerates even wanted to have this meetin’ is more than we could have hoped for. If they wanted us dead, they’d have found a way to do it that doesn’t risk puttin’ Applejack’s life in danger. Let’s go through the ransom and only shoot if they start shootin’ first.

Use the rockslide as a distraction to escape. Soon as we get the ransom and get outta the bottom of the quarry, we blow the walls down and run like hell. The Apples’ll probably just start tryin’ to shoot us soon as they get Applejack safely away from us and they ain’t gonna risk hittin’ their own ponies with any bullets. Let’s surprise ‘em by actin’ first and scramblin’ away while the dust and debris chokes up the quarry.

Strike first. Soon as the Apples settle in ‘round the quarry, and Tumbleweed, Wanderer, and Applejack start goin’ down our side to meet for the ransom, we blow the walls and start shootin’. We’ll have the initiative there, and we’ll be able to act first. All goes well, we can cut our way through the Conglomerates’ party ‘fore they can even really start shootin’ back at us. Then we can take our time to grab the money and run, assumin’ they even bring the money to this thing in the first place. Better to be the trapper than the trappee.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 122

Hold the ransom in good faith: 12 Votes

“We can’t soil our word by actin’ how they think we are,” Kestrel said. “Gettin’ this whole thing set up in the first place was a risk in itself. If you asked me a week ago, I’d have said you’re kiddin’ yourself. Ain’t no way the Conglomerates were gonna talk with a bunch of outlaws like us. Yet here we are.”

“Can we rely on their good faith any more than they can rely on ours, though?” Tumbleweed countered. He poked his hoof into Kestrel’s chest, right over her heart. “We are creatures of honor, Kestrel. We don’t rob from the poor. We don’t kill anypony unless they really need killin’. We do what we do to protect ourselves first, not just for the sickening thrill of murder and carnage. But in the eyes of these ponies, you think they see a difference between us and the Vipers? We’re all scum to them, Kestrel, and they’re gonna treat us like it.”

“So we gotta prove that we ain’t,” Kestrel insisted. “We gotta make them see that honor that we hold, like it or not. If we can do that, then that gives us some wiggle room for somethin’ much more dangerous later on. I’d rather keep the door open on the chance to try and negotiate somethin’ should we need it later on rather than slam it shut first chance we get.”

“A murderer can get in through an open door, but not a locked one.” Tumbleweed frowned. “And these ponies are murderers at heart. They cover it with sophistication and social standin’, but they’d kill a thousand of ponies like you and me if they felt it’d help ‘em get a few more bits.” After a moment, he sighed. “But I’m gonna be the one down there in the quarry with Wanderer and Applejack. I suppose it ain’t on me to decide when the charges go. That’s your job now. I’m leavin’ you in charge of everypony on the cliffs. Do what you think is necessary, and don’t get me killed.”

“I won’t, boss,” Kestrel assured him. “You know I ain’t gonna let that happen.”

“I know, Kessie. I know. But should it…” He took a long drag from his cigar, then blew out the smoke, the tiny orange light on the end of it casting an eerie, fiery glow on the cloud. “This gang was made by you and me, Kessie. I’ve always been first, but you’ve always been second. This band of ponies might be yours to worry ‘bout someday. Remember that.”

Kestrel didn’t like the way Tumbleweed said that, but she nevertheless nodded and quietly added, “I will.”

“Good.” Tumbleweed patted her on the shoulder. “Now get some rest, Kessie. Long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Then he walked away, taking the glowing ember of his cigar with him. Kestrel stood in the darkness as it vanished, wings pressed firmly against her sides. She felt like there was a chill in the air, pricking at the hair on the back of her neck, creeping down her chest. Tomorrow was going to be an important and dangerous day, of that she had no doubt. She just hoped that everypony would be able to get through it alright. The responsibility of when to blow Trixie’s charges lied with her, and in a sense, she was the one dictating the pace at which things happened in the morning. Supposing, of course, the Conglomerates didn’t start immediately shooting as soon as they showed up.

She struggled to sleep when she finally made it back to her lean-to but, inevitably, morning came all the same.

Kestrel is no longer Grazed.

Despite her lack of sleep the previous night, Kestrel was wide awake as the Gang advanced to the quarry.

Tumbleweed, Roughshod, Wanderer, and Applejack accompanied her on the walk away from camp. Snapshot and Trixie had gone ahead to place the charges before sun up, and Silver had gone with them to help any way she could before she set up her observation platform and waited over the quarry. When Kestrel looked up at the lightening horizon, she could see three or four masses of cloud slowly drifting by the quarry, carried along by the breeze at altitude. Silver was in one of those, though she didn’t know which one. The silver pegasus would be almost impossible to see at a distance even if one knew she was supposed to be up there, and Kestrel doubted that any reinforcements the Conglomerates brought with them would be looking up anyway. Maybe their pegasi would, of which they would inevitably have a few, but ground-pounders tended to keep their eyes on the ground. Thinking in three dimensions wasn’t part of their biology.

Everypony was quiet as they approached the quarry, even Applejack, though not by her choice. Tumbleweed had decided to gag her until the ransom was done, just in case her yelling brought any trouble for the Gang. But other than that, she wasn’t bound in any way. The four members of the Gang kept her in the middle of a diamond, and if she tried to make a run for it, she wouldn’t get very far before somepony stopped her. Besides, it wasn’t likely that she was interested in it anyway. She knew she was about to be let go as soon as the ransom went through; why risk ruining a surefire shot at getting out of this mess unscathed?

They soon found the weakened cliff side where Trixie and Snapshot had planted the charges, along with the two ponies themselves, lying low in the brush.Wanderer and Roughshod hung back with Applejack, while Tumbleweed and Kestrel crept forward. Kestrel made sure to keep herself well clear of the wired fireworks and occasional stick of dynamite protruding out of little holes in the ground or wedged into cracks in the rocks. The last thing she needed was to get vaporized before the ransom even began.

“Everything went well?” Tumbleweed asked them in a low whisper, crawling forward enough to peer through the brush to the other side of the quarry. Kestrel did the same, and noted a few ponies milling about the edge. She couldn’t see into the quarry from where she was, but she assumed there were more down there.

“Trixie did everything right—and she triple checked the fuses this time.” She held up two red wires in her magic, their copper ends already shining in the pre-dawn light. “We just need to twist these together and then ready the blasting machine. Though Trixie trusts we won’t be blowing the charges while we’re still on the cliff…”

“We may be crazy, but we ain’t that kind of crazy,” Kestrel assured her. She turned her attention once more to the other side of the quarry. “What sort of activity we got here? Silvie get us a count of what we’re up against?”

How many hired guns did the Conglomerates bring along with them? 15

“Much more than we have,” Snapshot said. “She spotted fifteen; let us know with a note wrapped around a rock she dropped from her cloud. No Pinks though, so that’s good.”

“Fifteen,” Tumbleweed said, frowning as he quickly did the math. “Twice as much as what we got. We only have seven.”

“Starlight and her crew already are here,” Trixie said. “They’re in the quarry waiting for things to get started.”

“That’s five more we can count on,” Kestrel said. “They’re supposed to be neutral, but if the shootin’ starts, they’re gonna get involved too, and it ain’t gonna be to shoot at us.”

“Twelve to fifteen is more manageable,” Tumbleweed agreed. “Good.” He looked at Kestrel and touched the brim of his hat. “Sun’ll be up in a few minutes. Wanderer and I better get in position. You’ve got command of everypony else ‘til we get back.”

“Good luck,” Kestrel said. “You’re gonna need it.”

Tumbleweed sighed. “Still thinkin’ we shoulda blown this place open ‘fore the shootin’ starts, but that’s your call now.” He scooted back from the edge and stood up only when he was safely out of sight from the far end of the quarry. “If you gotta shoot, don’t miss.”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 123

It seemed to take years before the sun finally rose.

Kestrel chewed on a sprig of dry grass she’d plucked and stuck between her teeth for want of a cigarette. The nicotine would have greatly easied her anxiety, but she didn’t risk letting the Apples know where the Gang was camped out with cigarette smoke. If everything went well, then the Apples wouldn’t even know there were outlaws overlooking the rocky cliff.

As the first slivers of sunlight touched the rocks of the quarry, the guns the Apples brought along with them moved to the edges at the large end. Kestrel could see the glistening barrels of their modern rifles, including the little dot near the rifle sights that worked the bolt. She didn’t see any scopes like the Gang had on their scoped rifles, so they would hold a slight advantage over the Apples at range, but if things closed to a medium distance where the scopes were too unwieldy, then things could get messy quick. Hopefully, they didn’t get into any shooting at all. That would be the ideal situation.

She lifted her head slightly and looked to the left, where Tumbleweed, Wanderer, and Applejack began to make their way down the side of the quarry toward the center. Kestrel picked up the scoped rifle she’d taken it along and pushed it forward just enough so the barrel was over the cliff, jutting out of the twisted branches of a dried and dead bush. She looked back to make sure that the rest of the Gang had cleared from the area where Trixie had planted the explosives, and gave the magician a curt nod. Trixie nodded back, and her horn briefly glowed as she took the copper wires and twisted them together. The charges were now connected to the blasting machine, and all Trixie had to do was press down on the plunger and the side of the quarry would come tumbling down.

Do the Apples meet the Gang down in the quarry for the ransom? No

But as Tumbleweed, Wanderer, and Applejack descended, Kestrel frowned at the lack of reciprocation from the Apples. Nopony came down the ramp into the bottom of the quarry to meet them. The only thing Kestrel saw was stony faces and cold eyes watching the outlaws descend into the quarry to join Starlight’s band of ponies, rifles at the ready. But nopony shot, and though the Apples kept their guns pointed vaguely into the quarry, none raised their weapons to take aim.

“I don’t like this,” Roughshod growled. “This is a trap. You know it well as I do, Kessie.”

“We ain’t doin’ nothin’ ‘til we got cause to,” Kestrel retorted. “The Apples set the tone of this whole thing, not us. We act in good faith ‘til they break it.”

“And what are you gonna tell Miss Irons to save your hide when they shoot Wanderer up down in that oversized ditch? She’ll pluck you like a chicken and leave your body for the birds.”

“Will you quiet down, fool?” Kestrel glared at him and flicked her tail. “Get your damn gun ready just in case.”

Roughshod wanted to say more, Kestrel could tell, but he just rolled his eyes and scooted forward a little to get a better line of sight into what was happening in the quarry. Tumbleweed and Wanderer had almost gotten to the bottom by the time they could see enough of the other end of the quarry to notice that nopony was coming down to meet them. Instead, Tumbleweed grabbed ahold of Applejack’s shoulder and forced her to stop. Then, pulling his revolver out with his magic, he placed it against Applejack’s temple and raised his voice. “This ain’t a ransom without no money,” he barked up at the Apples watching him from above. “You ain’t gettin’ her back to we get what we’re owed. Try anythin’ funny, and I’ll happily dispose of her myself ‘fore takin’ out the rest of you.”

“You ain’t in much of a position to argue there, partner,” one of the Apples shouted back. He moved forward on the ledge so that he could be seen better, and he pointed the rifle he kept braced in the crook of his foreleg down into the quarry at Tumbleweed. “You can kill her, but you ain’t gonna get outta this one alive if you do. I’ve got fifteen ponies here, and you’ve got two, plus whatever you brought with you. This quarry’ll be your grave. So let her go, and maybe I’ll let you walk on outta here. You did bring her back to us unharmed, after all.”

“Shoot him,” Roughshod growled to Kestrel. “We ain’t gettin’ our fuckin’ money.”

“Not while Tumblweed and Wanderer are down there,” Kestrel growled back. “They ain’t got a chance if the shootin’starts now.”

Tumbleweed, meanwhile, bared his teeth and looked to Wanderer, who slowly unholstered his revolver with a wing. “We had a deal,” he said, and his magic cocked the hammer of his revolver. Applejack froze in fright, knowing that her death was pressed against her head, the bullet that would end her life sitting just a few inches away from her skull.

“We never had a deal,” the Apple corrected. “Outlaws don’t do deals. They steal and rape and kill. They cannot be negotiated with. They are rabid dogs that have to be put down for the good of the community… even if the cost is great.”

Do the Apples attack? Yes

An Apple takes a shot at Tumblweed: Critical Success

A shot rang out over the quarry, striking Tumblweed through the shoulder and causing the stallion to stumble and nearly lose his hoofing. The sudden impact and pain of the shot caused his concentration to break and he dropped the revolver out of his magical grip without firing it. It landed on the ground, the impact strong enough to jostle the hammer into firing harmlessly into the quarry wall. Applejack immediately bolted for safety, Wanderer snapped his head left as he hopped to the right, and before he could ready his weapon, a second shot rang out, and the pegasus’ red head snapped backwards. Blood sprayed the quarry stone and painted it red, and the Gang’s adopted grandfather fell to the ground in a crumpled pile of feathers.

An Apple takes a shot at Wanderer: Critical Success

Is it only a Critical Injury? No

Wanderer has died.

Kestrel couldn’t help herself. She let out a scream of shock, anguish, and rage. The Apples had killed Wanderer. They had killed the Gang’s most beloved member, the jokester with an endless library of stories from a life well-lived, a pegasus with a kind heart who loved to play the guitar. And he hadn’t even seen it coming. The Apples… they were animals. Ruthless, cold-blooded animals. And she was going to make sure they died like animals.

“Do it!” she screamed to Trixie, and she stood up tall to take a shot. “Now!”

Kestrel fired her rifle, but she had put the scope too close to her face in her anger, and the recoil caused it to leap back and cut into her brow above her eye. She recoiled from the pain and cursed as blood started to dribble down her face, tossing the rifle away and drawing her revolver in its stead. Trixie, meanwhile, hurriedly picked up the blasting machine in her magic, but in her panic, nearly dropped it on the ground. She managed to catch it in her hooves at the last second, and gulping hard, she slammed the plunger down into the box.

Trixie successfully detonates the explosives: Critical Fail

Trixie rerolls using Pyrotechnics: Success

Moments later, the entire quarry shook as Trixie’s improvised explosives detonated. The shockwave immediately threw up a cloud of dust and pelted Kestrel and the rest of the Gang on the cliffs with pebbles and debris, but the effect was immediate. With a groan and a roar, the side of the quarry gave way, turning into a wave of rocks and rubble racing down into the middle of the quarry. Through the smoke and dust, Kestrel barely saw Starlight and her posse running up to Tumbleweed for safety, and Applejack vanishing somewhere beneath the onslaught of rubble. Whether she survived or didn’t, Kestrel couldn’t tell, but that was the least of her worries Her hatred and rage was focused squarely on the ponies that had killed one of her closest friends, and in the heat of the moment, she wanted nothing more than to hunt them down and kill them all one by one.

That sentiment was shared by Roughshod, who roared in fury and hopped to his hooves. “Those sons of bitches killed him!” he shouted. “They killed Wanderer! We can’t let them get away with that!”

“What are you talking about?!” Trixie hysterically shrieked. “We need to leave! I don’t want to die here!”

“We need to make sure Tumbleweed is alright,” Snapshot said, and though his voice was as calm as ever, Kestrel couldn’t miss the worried edge in it. “We can’t abandon him. He could use our help.”

“But then we’ll be sitting ducks!” Trixie yelled. “They’ll come for us next!”

“Let them!” Roughshod bellowed. “I’ll kill ‘em all!”

Kestrel could only angrily huff and puff as the dust cloud expanded and the Apples fired blindly into the quarry. Her blood dribbled down the side of her face, burning her eye before dripping to the ground by her hoof. Her heart demanded that she go out for blood, but her brain tried to furiously remind her that she had other ponies to look out for. But she needed to make a decision quickly—the cloud of dust and debris sheltering the Gang from the Apples wouldn’t last forever, after all.

Kill them all. They killed Wanderer. They killed one of my best friends. I’ll kill every last one of ‘em with my bare hooves if I have to.

Regroup with Tumbleweed and Starlight. Tumbleweed, Starlight, and her posse are still alive, and we can’t just leave ‘em. We’ll head to the other end of the quarry and try to group up with ‘em, even if it means waiting around for them to get out of there and giving the Apples a chance to respond.

Retreat immediately. This whole thing is blown wide open, and we need to prepare to leave for New Oatleans as soon as we can. We gotta get back to the wagons and get them ready to move, and hope that Tumbleweed is able to catch up when things are safe.

Author's Note

Jeez, I know it's been a while since I was last able to update this, but I wasn't expecting THIS for a return to form. It's almost like Lady wanted to end the story for good tonight.

As for future updates, I'm sure you've noticed they have been fairly erratic these past few months. Real life has started to intrude on my writing time, which has made getting consistent updates out very difficult. Expect erratic updates to continue through November and December, and hopefully by the time the new year comes around I can get things back to a regular update schedule again.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 124

Kill them all: 11 Votes (Lady Luck Tiebreaker)

In the end, it was Kestrel’s rage that won over. Killing Wanderer could not go unpunished, and she was determined to kill as many Apples as they could before they ran off with their tails between their legs. So, readying her revolver, Kestrel spread her wings and leapt into the air with a snarl. “Kill them! We kill them all!”

Roughshod let out a roar and charged forward as well, followed by Snapshot, whose look of concern lasted for only a few moments before he set his rifle to his face and started to line up a shot through the settling dust from the explosion. Only Trixie, terrified as she was, lingered in place, but with the rest of the Gang charging into the fray, she nevertheless grabbed the rifle she’d been provided with and put it to her face in an awkward magical grip.

But it was Silver who acted first from her lofty perch in the clouds, firing right before Kestrel flew through the dust cloud and could set her sights on one of the Apples on the cliffs. Her rifle cracked from somewhere overhead, and the spray of blood as the bullet connected with a pony’s back distracted the Apples right as Kestrel fired. Within a split second, the two pegasi had killed two Apples, evening the odds some before they could even react.

Unfortunately, Roughshod and Snapshot had less success behind her. Rough’s shot went high, while Snapshot’s went low, ricocheting off of a rock and knocking Kestrel’s hat off of her head, the sudden shock causing her to falter and lose the next target she’d been picking out. But somehow, Trixie outdid both of them. Incoherently yelling and firing with her eyes closed, Trixie’s round struck one Apple in the side, causing them to fall back and into one of their companions on the cliff’s edge. To Kestrel’s amazement, both earth ponies went tumbling over the edge, flailing briefly before a sudden date with the hard stone below them put a stop to that with a sickening crunch.

Trixie shoots an Apple: Critical Success

From there, all Tartarus broke loose. Bullets flew back and forth as the Apples recovered and switched their attention from the chaos in the quarry to the pack of angry outlaws charging at them. Kestrel, Roughshod, and Snapshot each managed to kill an Apple, while Silver dropped another one from her lofty perch, but soon all four were diving and twisting away from bullets as the Apples returned fire. Kestrel felt one rip through the feathers in her left wing and clip some of the muscle, turning her flight into pain with every beat of her wings, while another managed to find the cloud Silver was shooting from and fire up into it. Silver leapt off of the cloud and flew as fast as she could to another one for cover, but blood dribbled down her flank, spattering on the quarry floor far below her. Roughshod took two hits that barely left him stumbling for a moment, while Trixie, still amazed and shocked that she had killed two ponies, took a bullet deep into her leg that left her crying in pain and laying in the dirt.

Kestrel spared only the briefest of glances into the quarry to see Tumbleweed, Starlight, and Starlight’s companions running for safety out of the hole in the ground before she turned her attention back to the Apples on the cliff, but that little look aside messed with her next shot, and she barely missed the Apple she had picked out. As she flew out over the quarry itself and the rest of the Gang pushed wide around the edge, the direction of the Apples’ fire began to spread out, while the Gang’s was as concentrated as ever. Silver, Rough, and Snapshot each took down more Apples, causing the Conglomerates’ hired help to falter, but that didn’t stop one from putting a second shot into Trixie with his rifle. Kestrel only saw a glimpse of the blue mare tumble back into the dirt and grasp, her hoof feebly reaching skyward, but unable to pick up her rifle and continue fighting. She could only hope that Trixie was okay. To lose not just one but two gang members in one botched ransom…

And then, just as the Apples started to break and run, the Gang managed to exact their last measure of vengeance. Four guns fired, and the last four of the Apples dropped, either dead or dying, along the edge of the quarry cliffs. As the last gunshot echoed off the walls of the quarry, adding its noise to the cacophony of still-tumbling rocks and boulders, the red haze filling Kestrel’s vision began to lift. And it was then, as she hovered over the quarry of death, that anger finally turned into anguish and despair, and she let loose a torrent of curses and swears… until Roughshod’s own curses overpowered her own.

Turning around, Kestrel saw the brutish earth pony sitting next to Trixie as she coughed and squirmed in the dirt. Beating her wings despite the pain in one, Kestrel quickly alighted by Trixie’s side—and when she saw that the mare’s coat was half blue, half crimson, her heart sank even more. She knew from the bubbling of blood coming out of Trixie’s chest when she tried to breathe that there was nothing that anypony could do.

“Just… j-just hang in there,” Roughshod pleaded with her. “Hang in there, dammit! This ain’t… y-you’re gonna be alright. You’re gonna be alright…”

Trixie’s face was contorted in pain, and blood dribbled out of the corner of her mouth. “T-Trixie… I… I j-just wanted… w-wanted to be… be famous… great… and… p-powerful…” she wheezed, and her pink eyes turned toward the sky. “I-I… I-I don’t want… don’t want to… to…”

She never managed to get more words out. Instead, her eyelids fell half-closed over glassy eyes, and her whole body slowly fell limp in Roughshod’s hooves as her blood continued to pool around her. All the magician had left in her was one last drawn out sigh, and then the traveling unicorn embarked on her last journey.

Trixie has died.

Roughshod, Kestrel, Snapshot, and even Silver, who had flown down to join them, could only stand in silence as their newest member was the latest to die. In one day, they had lost both one of their oldest members and their newest recruit, and what did they have to show for it? Nothing. No bits, no money, no anything. Only a lot of dead Apples that only heralded more trouble down the line. For the first time in a long time, Kestrel was scared. Scared for her Gang, scared for tomorrow, scared for what the future held in store. Because after today, it was clear it wasn’t getting any brighter.

“We should find that whore and kill her if she ain’t dead already,” Roughshod said. “Her buddies never wanted her alive, so why should we let her live? Let’s find her and kill her. Send a message. Send a message these sons of bitches ain’t ever gonna forget.”

“We need to run,” Silver said, biting her lip in equal parts worry and to keep the pain of her own injury at bay. “The Pinks’ll be after us soon. All of Hoofston had to hear that noise. We ain’t safe here. Not no more.”

Kestrel, numb as she was, blankly stared off into space for a minute before finally making a decision.

Find Applejack. A life for a life. A crime for a crime. A murder for a murder. We’ll send a message to the world not to cross us.

Gather the dead and flee. We can’t stick ‘round any longer. Let’s grab Wanderer and Trixie and get. Only be a matter of time ‘fore the Pinks are on us again.

Author's Note

This chapter took too long to write. Sorry 'bout that.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 125

Gather the dead and flee: 16 Votes

Finally, Kestrel swallowed hard and closed Trixie’s eyes. “No more death today,” she whispered, her voice wavering even over those words. “Nopony else needs to die today. We just gotta take our own and scram. We ain’t got time to go hunt down some mare who even her friends wanted dead. Rough, take Trixie’s body back to the wagons and get set to go. I’ll handle Tumbleweed and get Wanderer back with us. Miss Irons… she’s gonna need her closure.”

Roughshod was oddly quiet for a few moments before he stood up and placed his hooves under Trixie’s bloody body. “We should have killed all them bastards from the start,” he growled as he picked her up. “Maybe then nopony woulda died.”

“We had to try,” Kestrel objected, though even she knew she was still trying to convince herself of that. “We can’t win ‘em all, Rough.”

“No… but we ain’t gonna lose the games we don’t play.” Then the earth pony turned to Snapshot. “Come on, sharpshooter. Let’s get goin’. I’ll need your guns if them damn Pinks pop up outta nowhere and want our heads. The birds’ll catch up to us later.”

The two stallions trudged off, leaving Silver and Kestrel alone on the side of the quarry cliff. “‘Birds?’” Silver asked, incredulous. “That’s a new one. Ain’t heard that before.”

“Your momma and papa pegasi too?” Kestrel asked her.

“Yeah?”

“Then that’s why. Ain’t nopony gonna call their aristocrat landlords ‘birds’ when you come from where you do.” Shaking her head, Kestrel spread her wings, doing her best to ignore the sting of pain in one. “C’mon, let’s go. Gotta face the music now.”

She launched herself off the edge of the cliff, Silver following her as they glided through the dust still hanging in the air. They found Tumbleweed sitting alongside Starlight and her companions about halfway out of the quarry, where an outcropping of rock that hadn’t been cut provided some cover from the opposite end of the quarry. Tumbleweed flinched and trained his revolver on Kestrel as soon as he saw her shadow flit across the ground, but he lowered it as soon as he recognized his steadfast friend. Still, there was anger in his eyes, and Kestrel cautiously alighted a few feet away from him, with Silver hovering behind her.

“Kestrel?” It wasn’t Tumbleweed who said her name, but Starlight. The unicorn stood up and moved closer, flinching whenever rocks popped or rattled down the side of the quarry in the aftermath of the explosion. “Thank goodness you were there to watch our backs. Is everypony alright? Are the Apples dealt with?” Her concern turned into a scowl of disgust. “I knew entreating with capitalists was a bad idea. They’re all scum, and Applejack’s would-be ransomers likely figured it’d be more profitable for them to kill her and all of us with her.”

“Trixie is dead,” Kestrel said, shaking her head. “The rest of us are okay. A little dinged up, but fine.” Then she turned her attention to Tumbleweed, who still stared at the ground in front of him. “Boss… we gotta get Wanderer outta here. Rough and Snapshot are already taking Trixie back with ‘em. We’ll bury the two of ‘em and get goin’ to New Oatleans. Hopefully we’ll be in and out ‘fore the Pinks find us… Tumbleweed? You listenin’ to me?”

By that point, Tumbleweed had stood up and began to walk over to Kestrel, yet didn’t say a word. In fact, he didn’t do anything until he was right in front of the mare. It was there that, baring his teeth, Tumbleweed drew back his hoof and delivered a sucker punch straight to Kestrel’s jaw. The mare; startled and surprised, fell to the ground in a heap of feathers, though she quickly righted herself and rubbed a fetlock over her now-split and bleeding lip. “I told you we shoulda acted first! We shoulda acted, not let ourselves be caught on the back hoof! They jumped us ‘fore we could jump them, but it didn’t have to be like that! And now where are we? We ain’t got no money, we ain’t got no Applejack, and we ain’t got Wanderer or Trixie to go to New Oatleans with us! Two members of our family died for nothin’! Nothin’ at all!”

“Are you really gonna pin what the Apples did on me?!” Kestrel shouted back, quickly hopping to her hooves. “There weren’t no way we coulda figured out what they were gonna do. How was we supposed to know that the Apples weren’t interested in gettin’ Applejack back alive? How was we supposed to know that they’d kill on sight? They’re the ones that broke this deal, not us!”

“And now they’re all dead, save for that orange bitch, assumin’ she’s still alive after the rockslide. Ain’t none of them gonna tell the Pinks that they shot first!” Tumbleweed bristled and spat in fury. “We’d have been better off just killin’ ‘em all soon as we got here! It wouldn’t change much for how the public sees us; them Apples is just as dead now as they woulda been had we jumped ‘em when we coulda. But we woulda had Wanderer and Trixie with us! We woulda had ‘em, and we woulda been able to roll on through to New Oatleans with everypony alive and well!”

“Don’t play ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ with me!” Kestrel growled and opened her wings as her own temper flared over. “I didn’t play it with you when that hotel job in Appleloosa went to shit and back. Don’t play it with me here now!”

“Guys!” Silver shouted, landing between the two of them and holding out her wings to the sides, ushering them back. “Quit fighting! Stop it! Just… just stop!” she screeched, and when Tumbleweed and Kestrel fell silent, she swallowed hard and folded her wings back against her side. “Things weren’t good today. Ain’t nopony gonna dispute that. But we gotta go ‘fore they get worse! Them Pinks’ll be here ‘fore we know it; even if the Apples didn’t tip ‘em off, the shooutout definitely did. Everypony in Hoofston probably knows somethin’ went down here! So let’s grab Wanderer and go, or else we’re gonna join ‘em!”

In the silence that followed, Kestrel wasn’t sure if Tumbleweed was going to pick a fight with Silver or not; but after several tense moments, the stallion spat in disgust and turned back to the ramp out of the quarry. “Fine,” he said. “You’re right, Silvie. Let’s get goin’. Starlight, I’m sorry we dragged you into this mess; best of luck in your fight; after today, I’m all for you makin’ them Apples pay.” Then he fixed his eye on Kestrel. “And Kessie? You carry Wanderer back to the wagons. It was your plan that got us here.”

Kestrel bit down on her tongue and refused to say anything. Tumbleweed was just hurting, was all. Hurting as much as she was. Though instead of bottling it up like she did, the stallion preferred to lash out.

It brought back foalhood memories of her mother, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

It wasn’t until he was gone that Silver cautiously approached Kestrel. “Are you… you alright, Kessie? Your lip’s bleedin’ pretty bad.”

“Lucky that’s all I got outta this with.” Nostrils flaring, she turned back to the quarry. “See you back at the wagons, Silvie. Me and Wanderer’ll be right behind you.”

“Kestrel…”

One stern look over her shoulder was enough to send Silver fluttering away.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 126

Kestrel could hear the shouting and crying before she could even see the wagon, which didn’t bode well at all. Even though it was what she expected after everything that happened at the quarry, the last thing the Gang needed was the noise drawing any Pinks to their little hideaway by the road. At any rate, time was ticking away, and Hoofston was very quickly becoming a death trap.

She was the last one to arrive in the camp, carrying Wanderer’s frail and limp body over her back. Roughshod had already dug out two graves by the side of the road, and Miss Irons shuddered against Tumbleweed’s side, her features a mixture of rage and sorrow. That was just another blow that ripped Kestrel up inside, seeing the normally resolute and stern matriarch of the camp so hurt and raw in the aftermath of the bad news she’d just been told. She felt her split lip sting again as she wondered if Tumbleweed wasn’t going to be the only pony to give her face a makeover today.

Steeling herself for another few unpleasant minutes, Kestrel trudged forward along the road, Miss Irons her destination. The eyes of the Gang settled on her one after the other as she approached, until she had the attention of everypony present, including Starlight’s gang. Miss Irons looked up at Kestrel, and then choked on a sob when the pegasus gently lowered Wanderer’s body onto the ground in front of her. Taking a step back, Kestrel’s throat bobbed as she awkwardly cleared it. “Miss Irons, I… I-I’m so sorry. This is all my fault…”

Miss Irons closed her eyes and shuddered, tears staining the sides of her muzzle. “This whole thing, I had a bad feeling, I… I knew this could only end poorly.” Then to Kestrel’s surprise, when she opened her eyes her fierce, heartbroken glare wasn’t pointed at her, but at Starlight. “You damn revolutionaries, you brought all this on us! We should never have gotten caught up in your dreams and delusions! Taking hostages, intentionally bucking the strongest ponies in Equestria in their flanks just to see what loose change comes tumbling out—you have set us down a path to ruination that we shall never recover from!”

Starlight merely frowned back at Miss Irons. “Death is part of the revolution,” she stated. “I’ve seen plenty of it in my life. Strikebreakers try to break strikes by breaking skulls all throughout Manehattan and Fillydelphia. Bittsburgh was one of the most miserable places to be a worker, thanks to that magnate, Cart, and his lackey, Clay. But with every death, the revolution comes a little closer to reality.”

“We ain’t care nothin’ ‘bout your revolution!” Silver proclaimed from atop Trixie’s wagon. “We just wanna get outta here! Outta Equestria ‘fore more of us die!”

“Quiet!” Tumbleweed barked, asserting himself before things spiraled out of control. Giving Miss Irons a pat on the back, he strode forward into the middle of the group and looked around, his eyebrows low and forboding as he looked from pony to pony. “What happened today was a disaster. Ain’t no other way of goin’ ‘bout it. It was ill-advised, ill-conceived, and damn near got more of us killed than it did. All of us still standin’? We’re lucky to be alive and breathin’. They ain’t.”

He emphasized those last two words by pointing at Wanderer’s body, and he bared his teeth for a moment. “This should never have happened. Takin’ Applejack for ransom was a mistake in hindsight. I shoulda shot her back at that conference. But even then, we coulda jumped them Apples first, but we didn’t. Kessie had grand notions ‘bout our honor and all that. Mistake after mistake brought us here, and I’ll be damned if we make another!”

“Biggest mistake we can make right now is snappin’ at each other’s necks,” Kestrel said, frowning first at Tumbleweed, but then shifting her focus around the rest of the Gang. “I made a mistake. Anypony wanna blame Wanderer’s and Trixie’s deaths on somepony, pin ‘em on me. But we gotta move now and get on the road to New Oatleans ‘fore the Pinks catch up to us. We bury the dead and get a move on. We’ll mourn ‘em on the road.”

Nopony responded to Kestrel’s plan of action, but nopony objected to it either, so Kestrel gave herself a little nod. That was about as good as she could expect for the moment. Maybe after a day or two, things would start to smooth over… but first they had to get to that next day.

Even that was a big question mark Kestrel wasn’t so sure about.

Finally Tumbleweed turned away and started pointing with his hoof. “She’s right. Rough, Snapshot, lay Trixie and Wanderer to rest. Silver, you’re the eyes in the sky. You see any Pinks comin’, you let us know immediately. We ain’t gonna get jumped again. Miss Irons… I’ll give you some time to yourself, if you need it.”

“We’ll stick around, at least for a little while,” Starlight offered. “In case the PPDA does find you before you’re ready to head off, you could use the extra support.”

“Thank you kindly,” Tumbleweed said. “I’ll borrow Party Favor from you if you don’t mind. Could use another earth pony to make sure things are all packed up and ready to go soon as we can manage.”

“What ‘bout me?” Kestrel asked.

Tumbleweed’s eyes narrowed at Kestrel. “Do what you want, Kessie. You’ve done quite enough damage for the day.”

With that chilly remark, the Gang’s leader turned around and started checking over the wagons, Party Favor joining his side in a few moments. Kestrel stood in place, bristling in frustration, but forcing herself to keep calm and let it slide… for now. After all, she’d just lectured the Gang on snapping at each other’s necks. The last thing she needed was to make a hippocrate out of herself now.

Instead, she turned away and joined Starlight, watching down the road for any signs of trouble. It was still in the morning, which made it easier to see through the trees surrounding them, but it left Kestrel uneasy and worried. How long until somepony wandered down this road, Pink or not? And what if they saw the dead bodies, or the blood staining their clothing? For now, the roads were empty, but they weren’t guaranteed to stay like that for long.

Finally, it was Starlight who broke the silence. “There’s no negotiating with the fat cats,” she said, though she kept her eyes looking down the road. “There is only the revolution. Kill or be killed. And if nothing else, you’re good at killing those who dserve it.”

“And getting’ those who don’t killed as well,” Kestrel bitterly added.

“Sacrifices are necessary to bring about a better Equestria,” Starlight assured her. “It hurts, I get it… but if you take action, you’ll make their deaths mean something. Run away, and they don’t mean anything. But stay and fight…”

“I ain’t turnin’ my back on my family.” Kestrel frowned at Starlight and pinched her wings by her sides in a show of discomfort. “I’m with ‘em ‘til the end, no matter how bitter it’ll be. And right now, it’s lookin’ pretty damn bitter.”

“I can’t fault you for loyalty.” Starlight sighed and shook her head. “But living with meaning is better than living for nothing but yourself. Even if you get out of Equestria, then what? You’ll spend the rest of your days rotting away on some ranch somewhere?”

“Or a tropical island,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “There’s worse fates. Like the noose.”

“Or you could fight to make a difference. Like me.” Starlight shrugged. “My group can’t stay in Hoofston. Not after everything that’s happened. But we did strike a blow at the Apples, and the workers in the city saw it. Things’ll be agitated for sure around here, which means that we’ve planted another seed of revolution. Once we plant enough, a thousand movements across Equestria will bloom into one, and we’ll be able to harvest the fruit of our labor in creating a better society. But we have to keep planting seeds where we can. And honestly, it sounds like New Oatleans could be a pretty fertile field.”

Kestrel frowned at Starlight’s flowery metaphor. “Just hit me plain what you’re gettin’ at. I hate word games.”

“We work well together, my group and yours,” Starlight said. “Instead of separating here, why don’t we travel to New Oatleans together? At the very least, we can help each other with our goals. And maybe, you might realize you could do something with your life other than running with it. The Revolution could always use more patriots.”

“I don’t know…” Kestrel turned that proposition over in her head. Would traveling with Starlight and her crew really be a good idea? Or would it get them into more trouble like today’s business at the quarry did?

Go our separate ways. Starlight and her posse were helpful for what we needed to accomplish in Hoofston, but they’re gonna be more trouble than they’re worth, especially if they aim to rile up the hornet’s nest while we just want out. Travelin’ with ‘em any longer could be dangerous to us.

Join forces in New Oatleans. Starlight is a resourceful mare, and havin’ more ponies on our side could make any jobs we wanna accomplish in New Oatleans easier. After losin’ Wanderer and Trixie today, we need more bodies if we’re gonna get the bits we need to get out of here…

Revolution sounds pretty interesting… Maybe Starlight’s right… maybe we do need to fight for somethin’ more than our own hides. Workin’ together in New Oatleans could leave a lastin’ legacy for us… (Kestrel gains the following Quirks: Revolutionary [Equality], Anti-Revolutionary [Capitalism])

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 127

Go our separate ways: 8 Votes

“There’s somethin’ many big gangs learned pretty quickly when it comes to raisin’ too much trouble,” Kestrel said after a moment to think. “Biggest thing is that it’s easier to find somepony when they’re travelin’ with a lotta ponies than when they split. And after everythin’ that’s been done in Hoofston, it might be safer for us all if we split up.”

Starlight raised a skeptical eyebrow in turn. “Perhaps, but don’t ponies like you form large gangs in the first place because there’s strength in numbers? With the PPDA breathing down your necks, I would imagine that the extra support would be desired.”

“Our best bet at stayin’ alive ain’t with fightin’ the Pinks,” Kestrel countered. “There’ll always be more of ‘em, no matter how many we kill or chase off. But there’s only so many of us. And we could all die in the blink of an eye. Happened with Wanderer and Trixie today. And if they find us in New Oatleans, it’ll be the rest of us, too.”

She sighed and fidgeted with her wings. “Look, Starlight, I appreciate that you helped get us set up with that conference. We made good money off of that. Can’t deny it. But it’s in all of our best interests if we split up after all this today. It’ll make it harder for the Law to find us, simple as that.”

“I suppose you’re right about that, then.” Starlight finally nodded her agreement, which left Kestrel relieved. At least with the equalists gone, the Gang wouldn’t be divided amongst itself about whether or not to even tolerate them after the lack of remorse or regret they showed for Wanderer’s and Trixie’s deaths. “It was a pleasure working with you while it lasted, then. But should you ever need our help…”

“I’ll keep an eye open for you,” Kestrel said. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but if their backs ended up against the wall and they could use a little more muscle…

Hoofsteps crunched on the dirt behind them, and Kestrel looked over her shoulder to find Tumbleweed approaching the two mares. The stallion gave them a curt nod and cleared his throat before speaking. “We’re… all set to head out then, Kessie,” he said. “We’ll be keepin’ Trixie’s wagon with us, and the Chatter gun inside. Rough’ll pull that one, and we’ll get Gizmo to pull our supplies. You and Silvie I’ll want in the skies to make sure nopony’s sneakin’ up on us while we get outta here.”

“Figured as much,” Kestrel said. “Best place for us to be.”

“And Starlight…” Tumbleweed turned to Starlight and raised an eyebrow. “What’re your plans? Pinks’ll be after you too.”

Starlight briefly glanced at Kestrel before answering. “Kestrel and I had a little bit of a discussion about that. We… agreed it would be best to go our separate ways. We’d be likely to attract less attention that way. And she made it very clear that five more ponies wouldn’t really help if the PPDA found us traveling together.”

“Best way forward’s to not pick a fight with the Law,” Kestrel said. “’Specially after we got licked like we did today.”

Tumbleweed looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit it back after he and his right hoof mare made eye contact. Instead, he bowed his head to Starlight. “Best of luck to you and your cause, then. A shame our relationship had to end here. But, I suppose it’s for the best, if one looks at the greater picture.”

“We always keep our eyes on the bigger picture.” Starlight smiled back at Tumbleweed and shook his hoof. “Stay safe in New Oatleans. We’ll probably be heading in that direction too. Maybe we’ll cross paths again. At the very least, if somepony gets the town all riled up while we’re staying there, we’ll know who to blame.”

“So long as you keep that information to yourself.” Tumbleweed touched the brim of his hat in parting as Starlight and her posse started to gather themselves together for heading off. “You stay safe as well. The Law’s gonna be real riled up after everythin’ that happened here these past few days.”

The rest of Starlight’s crew said their goodbyes, and then the Gang watched as they set off down the road. It was only after they were gone did Kestrel clear her throat at Tumbleweed and gestured off to the side. “Word with you, boss?”

Tumbleweed sighed but nevertheless followed Kestrel away from the wagons. The two ponies wandered a bit into the trees before Kestrel turned around and looked Tumbleweed sharply in the eyes. “It ain’t my fault, Tumbleweed.”

“Ain’t nopony’s fault but the Pinks,” Tumbleweed said through a frown.

“Then why you keep actin’ like it’s mine?” Kestrel’s question caught Tumbleweed by surprise, and she took a step forward. “I made a decision. I took what I thought was best for the Gang. I own that it was the wrong one. But when you keep askin’ me what I think and we go with what I say, I ain’t the only one to blame when things go wrong. And I ain’t gonna get it right all of the time.”

“But we can’t afford to make any more mistakes!” Tumbleweed countered. “Not now! Not with so much on the line! The noose is tightenin’ ‘round our necks, and we have to be on our A-game. Otherwise, more of us are gonna get killed! Forgive me if today’s events let me far from feelin’ satisfied with how they turned out. I put it in your hooves, Kessie, to get set up the way you thought best. Just ‘cause I asked you to do it don’t absolve you of all the blame!”

“And it don’t mean it’s all mine!” Kestrel opened her wings in indignation, took a breath through gritted teeth, and forced herself to lower them. “Tumbleweed… look. It ain’t pretty. And it’s gonna get a heck of a lot uglier from here on out. But we can’t be at each other’s throats over it. ‘Specially not in front of the rest of the Gang! You think we’re gonna stick together if you and me start bickerin’ like an old married couple?”

Tumbleweed raised an eyebrow at Kestrel. “So what is it that you want, Kessie? How do you want us to get into and outta New Oatleans in one piece?”

“Trust,” Kestrel said, leaning in closer to Tumbleweed, almost pleading with him. “Don’t second guess me when you pass the buck off to me. You don’t think I got what it takes to do somethin’, then do it yourself. But if you ask me to do somethin’, don’t come snappin’ back at me if it goes wrong. Because if you punch me again, I’m like to punch back next time. Then there ain’t gonna be no Gang no more.”

It seemed like it took forever for Tumbleweed to find a response, but finally, his nostrils flared and he nodded once. “Fine, Kessie. We’ll try to keep things a little more responsible ‘round here. But remember, we can’t afford no more mistakes. Another slip up like today, and it’s like to end us all.”

“I’m well aware of that, Tumbleweed.”

“Good. Then let’s get goin’, alright? Can’t risk hangin’ round any longer, case the Pinks track us down.” He turned around and began to walk away. “Get in the sky when you feel like it. Figure you might want to say a few last things to Wanderer ‘fore you go. I know… I know we all had somethin’ to say, each in our own way.”

Kestrel could only dip her head as Tumbleweed left, and let out a long sigh. A part of her was glad that the Gang was moving on from Hoofston, but most of her was heartbroken over the circumstances surrounding it. Hoofston had proven just as lucrative and just as dangerous as they had believed when leaving Rock Ridge. And New Oatleans, well, that would be another beast entirely.

But she didn’t know if they would be able to tame it or if it would swallow them whole.

The Ransom of Applejack Summary:

The Gang’s morale has crashed after losing both Wanderer and Trixie during the attempt to ransom off Applejack to the Apple Conglomerates.

No money was made during the ransom.

Leaving Hoofston has lowered Law Attention from 5 to 3 (High)

Leaving Hoofston has reset Kestrel’s local bounty.

Kestrel has gained honor for attempting to uphold the deal and ransom Applejack (+10)

The deaths of Wanderer and Trixie have reduced the number of living gang members to 6. Consequently, the Gang now only needs $60,000 to leave Equestria.

Starlight and her posse of Equalist revolutionaries have left the party.

Kestrel, Roughshod, and Silver Wings are all Grazed

Tumbleweed is Seriously Injured

Applejack may have survived the ransom

Gang Savings: $27,954/60,000

Camp Morale: Disheartened

Law Attention: 3 (High)

Kestrel’s Honor: +70

Kestrel’s Local Bounty: $0

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

And that's it for Hoofston. What a wild ride that was...

Who knows what awaits us in New Oatleans? New opportunities and new dangers abound...

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 128

It was a long road to New Oatleans.

The cities weren’t close together, though Kestrel already knew that much. It would take the Gang a week to walk from Hoofston to their destination. But knowing what they were running from, just how close on their tails the Pinks were, made it feel like a lifetime, not seven days. Every morning when Kestrel took wing to watch over her friends on the ground, and every night when she landed to catch some sleep, she wondered just how far behind them the Pinks were. No matter how quiet the days were, no matter how desolate the road, sometimes she swore that they were only an hour or two behind them, that any minute she’d see pink suits bursting through the trees after them.

Those seven days did leave Kestrel with plenty of time to try and solve the cold calculus and figure out just how far away from the Pinks the Gang had managed to slip. It only would have taken a day, maybe two, for the Pinks to realize that the Gang was no longer in Hoofston. From there, they only realistically had two choices to figure out where the Gang was going: west back to Rock Ridge, or east to New Oatleans. And considering the ruckus that the Gang had caused back in Rock Ridge, the Pinks would have been right to assume that their quarry wasn’t keen on doubling back into the chaos. So that just left New Oatleans as the only likely destination, and Kestrel had a feeling that they wouldn’t stay out of notice of the Pinks in that city for long.

She had expressed as much with Tumbleweed whenever the Gang stopped for the night. Though the events in Hoofston had strained their relationship some, Kestrel was willing to put all that nonsense aside and just work with Tumbleweed as his right hoof mare, as she always had done. The survival of the Gang depended on their leaders working together, and thankfully, both realized that. Regularly consulting the map and figuring out what each day of travel would look like helped them to keep the wagons moving and maintain as much distance between the pursuing Pinks as they could, even despite their heavy load.

But even if Kestrel had started to recover some sense of normalcy from her strained relationship with Tumbleweed, she could feel that what happened in Hoofston had left some black marks on her relations with the rest of the Gang. Miss Irons refused to speak to her, or most anypony else in the Gang, after what happened to Wanderer. Roughshod was still furious and heartbroken over Trixie’s death, but instead of blaming Kestrel for it, the earth pony blamed Tumbleweed for taking the Gang and running away instead of going back into Hoofston and burning down every Apple factory and workshop they could find in the city. Even Silver Wings seemed especially troubled by the breakdown in relations in the Gang, and her once cheerful, energetic self spent most of her evenings moping by herself away from the group. Kestrel soon found out that the younger pegasus had been snatching whiskey bottles from the Gang’s supply and trying to drown her troubles that way, but Kestrel didn’t have the heart to confront the poor mare about it. After all, she couldn’t blame her, and to get on Silvie’s case about it would only make her a hypocrite in front of the pony that adored her.

The only two members of the Gang who seemed unaffected by what went down at Hoofston were Snapshot and Gizmo, though that didn’t surprise Kestrel that much. Gizmo didn’t appear to have anything resembling the ability to mimic emotions, and upon noticing that Wanderer had died, had decided that Tumbleweed would be the new pony she answered to, given that Applejack had made her Wanderer’s property before. And as for Snapshot, well, he wasn’t all that much different from Gizmo, considering he always kept his thoughts and emotions to himself. The most Kestrel had been able to glean out of him was how he always volunteered for first watch at night, and often wouldn’t even bother waking up somepony else for second watch. Whether he blamed himself for failing to see the pony that ultimately killed Wanderer, or not being fast enough to save Trixie, or something else entirely, Kestrel couldn’t say. All she knew was that Snapshot was trying to cope with it in his own way; they all were.

As the Gang ventured further and further to the east and south, the landscape around them began to change from the dry, arid lands of Hoofston to the humid and low swamps and marshes of New Oatleans. The mosquitos in particular, which hadn’t been all that much of a problem in Hoofston, grew exponentially worse as the roads took them through the lonely bits of dry and high ground that meandered between the swamps and bayous. Sweat clung to Kestrel’s clothing instead of swiftly evaporating in the dry Hoofston heat, and she soon decided that she already hated the area. She could only hope that the Pinks, stuck in the pink suits that gave them their name, would be suffering even more than the Gang already was.

Of course, it wasn’t until an alligator tried to eat Silver when she went down to the edge of a nearby marsh to take a leak that it really settled in for the Gang that they weren’t in Hoofston anymore. Thankfully, Silver had wings and jumped into the air as soon as she heard the hiss coming in behind her. It was something that was terrifying in the moment, but later that night, it was something the Gang could laugh about. Kestrel was thankful for that, at least. They needed whatever levity they could get before they embarked on what was sure to be their hardest go at it yet.

The following morning, with the Gang about a day out from Hoofston, Kestrel and Silver took to the skies to go and find a suitable place to make camp. Higher and higher they flew, until they were well above the treetops, and then they began to circle around the area. To the southeast, the magnificent city of New Oatleans stood at the mouth of the Maressissippi River, its enormous port and docks loading and unloading hundreds of ships every day, whether they be riverboats or seafaring vessels. Prench architecture blended together with Canterlonian design in the buildings rising above the bayous, and even a district of cloud homes hovered just above the rooftops of the tallest buildings in the city. It was an industrial and mercantile marvel, even larger than Hoofston, and far more densely packed.

Silver whistled as they hovered above the marshes and took it all in. “That’s a city if ever I’ve seen one,” she said. “Then again, I ain’t ever been to Canterlot. How’s this compare, Kessie?”

“It’s… moister,” Kestrel said, already feeling the humidity and the morning sun beginning to draw more sweat out of her. “Canterlot’s also on a mountain. Ain’t gonna find nothin’ more splendid than that. But this place is dense enough, it should be able to hide us. Least for a lil’ bit.”

“It better. Else them Pinks’ gonna make short work of us.” Silver looked around, trying to spot any potential hideaways at a distance. “Well, figure we got a couple of places we can try pokin’ ‘round in, right?”

“Right. See anythin’ good?” Kestrel asked her.

“A few things. There’s a bit out there in the marsh—or what do them New Oatleaners call it, the bayou?—where the trees are higher than the rest. Probably higher, drier ground, that. Could be a good place to hide out.”

“Not sure how fond I am of havin’ mosquitos and alligators eatin’ me alive out there,” Kestrel said through a frown. Instead, she turned her attention toward the city. “Plenty of abandoned little shanties and riverports down closer to the city. Might be we can find somethin’ abandoned out there and set it up real nice. That way we’re close to the city, too.”

“But who knows who else could be lurkin’ ‘round there?” Silver countered. “And besides, close to the city might not be all that good, ‘specially if the Pinks find us and round up the police on us.”

“Hrmmmf… Good a point as any.” Kestrel thought for a moment and shrugged in mid air, the action causing her to dip a good few feet before climbing back up to Silver’s side. “Reckon we can check ‘em both out, should we feel like it.”

“So where should we go first then?” Silver asked.

The high ground in the bayou. Might as well see what’s out there in the bayou. Pinks tryin’ to find us in the marsh ain’t gonna have an easy time of it, that’s for sure.

The abandoned buildings by the river. Closer to town, on some dry ground, and maybe even some creature comforts. Could be a nice change of pace from campin’ under the open sky all the time.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 129

The abandoned buildings by the river: 10 Votes

“I’ve had enough of dealin’ with the mosquitos and the humidity,” Kestrel grumbled, and a quick twist of her wings pointed her towards the edge of the city, where the great river gave rise to countless little harbors and shanties along its shores. “If I’m gonna die this month, I ain’t lookin’ to do it while bein’ miserable in the swamp. Let’s go take a look about. There’s a buncha buildin’s right near a split in the river, right where it bends ‘round an island. Reckon they ain’t used much no more.”

“Here’s hopin’,” Silver said, changing course to follow Kestrel to the ground. “And if they ain’t?”

“Then we only cause trouble if we’re in trouble,” Kestrel said. “I ain’t lookin’ to shoot ponies if I ain’t gotta. Let’s try and keep things quiet in the city long as we can.”

Silver nodded in agreement, and slowly, the two pegasi circled down toward the shanties at the river. The closer they got, the more Kestrel was inclined to believe that it would make a good hideout for the gang. Here, the Maressissippi river flowed almost like a ‘D’ shape, with the bulk of the water rounding the curve while a shallower, muddier stream ate away at the fat peninsula reaching into the water, turning it into an island as it severed it from the main shore. The shanties they’d spotted from above had been built along that muddy stream, most clustered right against the water on mossy and splintering piers, but a few clinging to the drier ground away from the waters edge. Heavy foliage cluttered the perimeter of the abandoned riverfront, but there was a clearing cut through it for wagons to travel. Though the roads hadn’t seen wagons in years, it would at least let the Gang get their wagons into there without having to fight with the mud and muck of the bayou itself.

Kestrel made sure to choose some wooden planks half-buried in the dirt to land in when she finally touched down, though she noticed that even the wood under her hooves was sodden and damp from years of rainfall, flooding, and the ever-pervasive humidity slowly rotting it away. Silver made the mistake of landing next to her, and her hooves immediately squelched into the mud up to her fetlocks. “Gaauuuughhhh,” the mare exclaimed, letting a shiver run down her spine at the cold sensation. “If it’s this bad out here, I’m afraid of what it’d be like in the bayou.”

“Probably a lot, lot worse.” Kestrel raised her head and looked around, her sharp eyes surveying the abandoned riverport around them. Some of the buildings had collapsed roofs or doors hanging off of their hinges, while one had completely fallen in on itself. But most of the buildings still seemed okay, and when she kicked a post of the building behind her, it seemed solid and sound. “This place has seen better days, that’s for sure. But it ain’t all a ruin. Got that goin’ for us.”

“Don’t look like there’s nopony here,” Silver said, squinting into the darkness inside of the buildings. She kicked at an old tin can lying on the ground, so aged and weathered that the label on it had all but faded away. “Might be a place some vagrants stop at from time to time, not much else.”

“Well, I reckon we fit that definition,” Kestrel said, and she began to wander through the riverport, sticking her head through doors and windows and taking a look inside of the buildings. “Better to be safe and check, though.”

Is anybody already occupying the shanties by the river? No

The two mares took their time and searched through each and every shanty, shack, and abandoned building, but they found no sign of any squatters or occupants. The place was empty as could be, and the only indication that it had ever been occupied in the past was the trash and litter lying about, from tin cans to empty and broken bottles to spent shell casings half-buried in the dirt or swept into the corners of some buildings. An occasional bullethole decorated the walls, and Silver found a splotch of black and brown on one of the concrete foundations that likely was an ages-old bloodstain. Ponies had certainly died here in the past, but Kestrel didn’t let that bad specter of history bother her. It wouldn’t have been the first time the Gang had repurposed some long-dead outlaws’ camp grounds while doing jobs in a town. The most important thing was to not end up like the ponies who had come before them.

“I like it,” Silver remarked when they’d regrouped after sweeping through the area. “The buildings’ll keep the rain offa us, and I reckon it rains a lot ‘round here. Plus, we got the river to get water from, maybe even do some fishin’ and the like.”

“That brown river’s full of them little lobster things,” Kestrel said, remember what she’d seen when she inspected it. “Bet they’d make good eatin’. Keep our wings strong and all.”

“And all of the buildings have concrete floors. Or, well, most of ‘em do.” Silver couldn’t help but smile to herself at the thought of that. “Ain’t gotta sleep on the damp mud at night. That’ll be a nice change of pace.”

“Doubly so out here when half the damn land’s waterlogged and all. I feel like if I lie down for an hour I’m gonna sink into the bayou.” Then she pointed with a wing up the old road leading into the abandoned riverport. “It’s even got a road to take the wagons in. We ain’t gonna find that out in the bayou. And on top of that, the river behind us means we got that to protect us. Ain’t have to worry ‘bout Pinks comin’ from all directions, unless they get a skiff to get across the water like that, or attack usin’ only pegasi.”

That seemed to further cement Silver’s appreciation of the place. “That’s good. And we’re close enough to the city where we can ride on in and out as we need. Ain’t gotta take an hour to go from town to our camp, and we ain’t gotta cross the swamp to do it.” But then she turned her attention toward the deep Maressissippi river flowing around them, and the steamboat chugging against the current as it ferried passengers and freight upstream. “But we’re gonna see plenty of boats, I reckon.”

“So long as none of ‘em come too close to us, we should be fine,” Kestrel said. “And worst comes to worst, we just hide the wagons between the shacks and try to avoid goin’ to the water all the time. Ain’t too hard to make it so that ponies won’t even know we’re here. And even if they do see us, they ain’t gonna think much of us. How many other poor ponies you think live up and down this river.”

“Probably more than I would expect,” Silver conceded. “We likely ain’t the only ones.”

“I’d bet bits on it.” Kestrel stretched her wings and looked back up to the sky, where some heavy gray clouds had started to roll in. “Gonna rain soon, and that ain’t gonna be fun. What’dya think, Silvie?”

Silver blinked. “What do I think of what?”

“Should we even bother checkin’ out the bayou?” Kestrel asked. “Or should we go back to the Gang and get ‘em here ‘fore it starts rainin’?”

Bring the Gang to the river. We’ve seen enough; we likely ain’t gonna find nothin’ better in the bayou. Best get everypony in and settled ‘fore it starts pourin’ buckets on us.

Scout out the bayou. Last thing we wanna do is rule anythin’ out ‘fore we know what it’s got in store for us. We should check out the bayou and hope that we’re fast enough to beat the rain.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 130

Scout out the bayou: 14 Votes

Silver thought for a moment, and looked up at the sky again as if it would tell her exactly how long they had until the rain came. “Well… wouldn’t hurt, now would it? Might as well be thorough. ‘Sides, Gang’s gotta make their way up the road some more ‘fore we decide where to take ‘em.”

“Right ‘bout that one.” Kestrel stretched her wings out as far as she could, trying to work out any soreness in them before taking wing again, and then hopped into the air. “Well, doubt it’ll be much better than what we got here, but like ya said, pays to be thorough.”

The two mares climbed into the sky, flying in circles until they were comfortably high enough above the ground that they wouldn’t be spotted unless somepony was scanning the sky for them. Then, when they were ready, Kestrel led the way to the bayou, her wings flapping a little harder through the increasingly humid air. She could feel a mist beginning to cling to her face as she flew just beneath the low-hanging clouds moving in over the area, and she knew that it wouldn’t be too long before the first raindrops started to fall. Hopefully they could be quick about it and get back to the Gang before then; the last thing they needed was to try and drag their wagons through mud and muck if the rain got bad enough to ruin the roads.

As they flew toward the high ground in the bayou, Kestrel did a little preliminary scouting of the approach—or at least, as much as she could see from up above through the canopy of trees. The closest road looked like it was at least a mile away, meaning the Gang would have to drag the wagons through a mile of marsh and soggy soil to get to the high ground in the first place. Maybe there was a path of dry ground under the trees that she couldn’t see, but it certainly wasn’t like the road that led right up to the previous location by the river. That was both a blessing and a curse; the lack of a road made accessing the high ground difficult, but if it was difficult for the Gang, it would be difficult for the Pinks as well.

When they got close enough to the high ground rising out of the bayou, Kestrel banked to the right and began to circle the land clockwise, Silver at her tail. Through the trees, it looked like the high ground was made out of rock rising from the bayou around it, the leftover of some ancient geological activity that had piled stone here while flattening the rest of the surrounding swampland. Still, enough dirt had accumulated on it over time that trees and plants grew on it, enough to provide decent cover from the sky. Kestrel still couldn’t see the ground from up above, but she took her time before committing to a descent to see if she could spot any signs of activity here.

Are Kestrel and Silver able to detect any signs of activity in the bayou? Yes

But while trees could hide lots of things beneath their branches, one thing they couldn’t completely hide away was a faint plume of smoke rising up from between their leaves. Frowning, Kestrel slowly began to descend at a distance, aiming for an opening in the trees a little bit away from the high ground where hopefully she could land silently and without whoever was tending to the campfire noticing them. Once she was low enough, she folded her wings against her sides and dropped down to the ground, Silver following her shortly thereafter.

Once they made sure they hadn’t dropped right in the middle of somepony, Silver and Kestrel crept forward until they found some brambles to hide behind and survey the situation. Down on the bayou floor, they had a much clearer picture of what they were looking at. A worn dirt hoofpath meandered between swampy ponds and crooked trees until it reached the rocky foundation of the high ground, where somepony had erected a set of wooden stairs leading up the rocks to a pair of small shacks on the dry ground. The mossy wood of the shacks turned slightly orange in the glow of the campfire placed between them, and shadows danced along the walls, accompanied by the faint guffaws of the ponies sitting around the fire, just out of sight.

“Guess somepony else got here first,” Silver said. “What’d they be doin’ out here, anyway? They outlaws like us?”

“Can’t say for sure,” Kestrel said. “Could be outlaws. Could be moonshiners. Plenty of ‘em ‘round this part of Equestria. Best way to get the strongest hooch and pay the fewest taxes is to make it out in the bayou illegally.”

Silver stuck out her tongue. “Never did like moonshine. Too strong for me. ‘Sides, who knows what they put in that stuff to water it down?”

“Plenty of ‘em use wood alcohol. Stuff’ll turn ya blind, but you’ll be too messed up to notice ‘til later.” Kestrel frowned and looked around. Sure enough, she spotted a pony sitting on a tree stump, rusty rifle sitting by her side, as she kept a lazy eye out for any intruders. Or, well, Kestrel supposed that was what she was supposed to be doing; instead, her attention was turned toward the book she held in her magic, lazily flipping the pages as half-lidded and tired eyes scanned the words printed on them. Kestrel gathered there must not be a whole lot of activity that the moonshiners had to worry about, but there was just enough of a threat to their business that they had to keep somepony on lookout just in case trouble found them.

Whether or not she and Silver counted as trouble, though, Kestrel hadn’t yet decided.

“What’re we gonna do, then?” Silver whispered, her voice dropping when she spotted the mare a good hundred yards away. “Walk up and say ‘howdy’? Start shootin’ the place up? Go back to Tumbleweed? I mean, looks like if we want this place, we gonna have to deal with the moonshiners some way or other.”

“True enough,” Kestrel said, though her thoughts were interrupted when a raindrop fell through the canopy above and struck her on the nose. She tilted her head skyward and frowned as the leaves of the trees around her began to rustle with the steady wind blowing through them and the pattering of raindrops falling through their numbers. The mare reading her book noticed it, too, and she growled as she turned her head toward the sky and brought forth a blue dome of magic to keep the rain off of her. There were a few grumbles of annoyance from up on the high ground, and the shadows on the huts once more shifted as the ponies up there scurried for cover.

Kestrel didn’t know how the moonshiners would react if they encountered the Gang, but she had to decide how to proceed; it wasn’t like she could just ask them what they were going to do, after all.

Approach the moonshiners and hope for the best. Might be we can find a kindred spirit in the moonshiners. Any allies we can make down here in New Oatleans, the better.

Try to deal with the moonshiners ourselves. Silvie and me, if we keep quiet and fast, can probably handle them moonshiners by our lonesomes. Seems like they ain’t got good equipment, and the rain’ll help us stay hidden. We might be able to get some use outta their distillery if we take it, too.

Go back to Tumbleweed and suggest bringing the Gang to the river. We seen enough here to know that the river’s the better option. Better to get the Gang there than waste time messin’ with the moonshiners.

Go back to Tumbleweed and suggest bringing the Gang to the bayou. With some help from the Gang, we could easily take this place by force. And once that’s taken care of, we can quickly get settled in and take stock of the situation.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 131

Go back to Tumbleweed and suggest bringing the Gang to the river: 10 Votes

“Don’t see why we should risk gettin’ tangled up with ‘em for no good reason,” Kestrel said. “We already found someplace that’s likely gonna be much better than this, and there ain’t nopony livin’ there. If we need to, we can go and reach out to these ponies later. For now, let’s just go get the Gang to the river ‘fore the rain gets much worse.”

Silver looked up at the sky and nodded. “Right. Betcha the roads get damn muddy when it rains. And I ain’t lookin’ to go and push a wagon outta the muck.”

Backing away, the two pegasi made sure that they were well out of sight of the moonshiners’ hideaway before they spread their wings and took to the air. Kestrel squinted into the gray skies as she gained altitude, trying to keep the worst of the rain out of her face; while it wasn’t pouring yet, the rain was definitely heavier than what it seemed below the canopy of the trees. In no time at all, she found herself looking forward to enjoying some time by a fire to warm up and dry off, though judging by the clouds, who knew when that was going to be.

After some time backtracking their morning flight and following the roads, they found a spot where the road wound under some of the old bayou trees that provided shelter from the rain. Touching down there, they found the Gang and their two wagons hunkered down, trying to keep the worst of the rain off of them. Kestrel and Silver shook their coats off, shedding most of the water that had accumulated on them during their flight, and trotted toward the wagons, where Gizmo remained patiently hitched to Trixie’s heavier wagon. “Everypony inside?” Kestrel asked the automaton.

“Affirmative,” Gizmo replied in her tinny, chipper voice. “They sought to avoid the rain until your return, Kestrel and Silver Wings. I did not join them; my machinery and leylines won’t be bothered by a bit of water.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Kestrel said as she walked past the robot pony. “Bet we’re gonna have to deal with a lot more rain than we’re used to.”

“The city of New Oatleans receives roughly 65 to 70 inches of rainfall each year,” Gizmo stated. “Comparatively, the city of Hoofston only receives roughly 45 inches of rainfall each year. As such, Hoofston regularly uses pegasi to bring rainclouds from New Oatleans to its fields during the spring and summer to make sure that they are adequately watered, as dry spells are not uncommon in the surrounding area.”

Silver chuckled and shook her head. “Guess we got ourselves a walkin’ trivia machine, ain’t that right, Kessie?”

“Lovely,” Kestrel said with a shake of her head. Walking around behind Trixie’s wagon, she found Tumbleweed, Roughshod, Snapshot, and Miss Irons sitting on the wagon floor, idly waiting for the return of their pegasi. Their ears perked up when they saw Kestrel, and Kestrel raised an eyebrow at them. “No card game or somethin’? Didn’t know that me bein’ gone left y’all so broken hearted.”

“You’re just so much fun to be ‘round that we don’t know what to do with ourselves when yer gone,” Roughshod grumbled. Rolling his neck, he looked down his muzzle at Kestrel. “Well? I hope you found us somethin’ good. Ain’t sure how long I could take livin’ in the bayou after these last few days.”

“Silvie ‘n me found someplace that looks pretty decent,” Kestrel said. “Abandoned riverboat dock by the Maressissippi. Plenty of little buildings and huts there, all sittin’ empty. It’s even got a decent road goin’ on into it, unlike the other place in the bayou we took a look at. I’m thinkin’ it’ll be plenty nice for us.”

“Next to the river could be troublin’,” Tumbleweed said as he thought it over. “Plenty of boats goin’ up and down the waters. The place big enough that we ain’t gonna be seen from the water if we ain’t lookin’ to?”

“We can hide the wagons in the middle of the place,” Kestrel said. “And not spend too much time by the water. I doubt anypony’s gonna find us there ‘less they’re lookin’ for us there in the first place.”

“You know the Pinks’ll be lookin’ for us for sure.” But nevertheless, Tumbleweed moved to stand up, and the rest of the Gang did so as well. “Guess we better get movin’ then. Brave the rain and all to get to our new home.”

Once they were organized, the Gang set out once more, Kestrel and Silver helping to lead them along the road to the abandoned riverfront buildings. Occasionally, they had to aid in lending a shoulder to pushing the wagons through mud on the quickly-deteriorating roads, an endeavor that only left Kestrel feeling even more tired and her legs covered in muck. Silver coughed and sneezed a few times, and by the time the waterfront was in sight, the younger pegasus was wiping her runny nose dry with the back of a wing. Kestrel hoped the mare wouldn’t catch a cold; the last thing they needed was to have somepony in the Gang down and out from feeling under the weather when they got all set up in their new home.

Kestrel was thankful for the rain for one reason; they didn’t have to worry about anypony chasing them down on the muddy roads and in the unpleasant weather. If they were being followed by the Pinks, and she knew that they were still doggedly being hunted anyway, it would allow them to put a little extra distance between themselves and their pursuers. Any little advantage the Gang could get to gain some breathing room was too valuable an opportunity to pass up.

But finally, after only a little bit of trouble navigating the roads, they finally arrived once more at the abandoned buildings by the riverfront. Kestrel and Silver led the wagons into the middle of the complex, where there were enough shacks and huts to obscure them from the river. “Home sweet home,” Kestrel remarked as they brought the wagons to a stop and Gizmo and Roughshod unhitched themselves. “Got plenty of buildin’s to pick from. Silvie and I scoped ‘em out, there ain’t many that look like they’ll collapse on us.”

“Well ain’t that a relief,” Roughshod said, but he did give an approving nod as he looked around the place. “Definitely seen worse. Better than campin’ out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Other place we looked at was a spot in the bayou,” Silver said. “But it’s already taken. Looked to be a bunch of moonshiners got a little camp set up out there.”

“Think we can make friends with ‘em?” Roughshod asked. “I’d love to get me some moonshine for all our troubles.”

“Maybe,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “They had an armed lookout, so they likely don’t want no uninvited company. Could just be more trouble than it’s worth, though.”

“We’ll have time to sort it all out,” Tumbleweed said. “We’ll need some allies here in New Oatleans if we’re gonna get anywhere. Starlight and her crew, no matter how… zealous they were, I should say, made fine partners for our time in Hoofston. We’ll likely need friends like ‘em at some point if we’re gonna go robbin’ here.”

“Just what are we thinkin’ ‘bout robbin’?” Roughshod asked. “We gotta make a lotta money and quick. Doubt the Pinks’ll let us slip from their hooves again once they sniff us out this time.”

Kestrel thought a moment. “Didn’t Applejack mention that that Miss Belle pony’s got a lotta business here in the city?” she remarked. “Big trade city like this, with big dockyards right on the water… bet a lotta bits flow through here.”

“We’ll have to scout it out,” Tumbleweed said. “But anythin’ tied to this Miss Belle’ll likely got a lotta bits. Might be we can find a bank to hit here that’s got her name on it.”

Roughshod rubbed his hooves together and grinned. “A bank’ll do us nicely,” he said. “We should be able to get everythin’ we need outta a bank if we time it right.”

“That timin’s somethin’ we’ll figure out.” Tumbleweed then looked up into the sky and frowned at the rain still coming down. “But for now, let’s get the wagons unloaded and get outta the rain. If the storm’s gone tomorrow, then we can go snoopin’ ‘round town, see if we find somethin’ good.”

“We better,” Kestrel said, turning toward the wagons to help out with unloading them. “Be a shame to come all this way an’ die for nothin’.”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

Sorry it took so long for this relatively short chapter. I've spent the past two weeks getting ready to move to a different state and start a new job, so that took up a lot of my time on Mondays and Fridays to work on this chapter. Things might stay slow for a little bit as I get used to working on my new job, but we'll see how it goes.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 132

The rain lasted the rest of the day, and continued through the night, limiting how much the Gang was willing to spend outside getting familiar with their new surroundings. It didn’t bother Kestrel too much, though she was itching to get it done as soon as possible; the rain would likely keep any Pinks that may have been pursuing them hunkered down waiting for it to pass, so they weren’t losing any time. That opportunity afforded her plenty of time to get dry and warm, and try to rest and prepare for tomorrow’s tasks.

Once the wagons were tucked away and out of sight, the Gang set about staking claims to the various buildings in the abandoned compound. There were enough of them that everypony could have their own to stay out of the elements and have their privacy, a luxury they rarely owned when traveling around Equestria. Kestrel decided to take a shack closer to the water, where one of the blown-in windows looked out on the waters of the Maressissippi and the ships sailing by. It would give her something to look at if she ever found herself alone in her room, and gave her a good vantage point to observe the island in the middle of the river and the far shoreline, in case any threats happened to approach from that angle. Though the room itself was bare, Kestrel figured she could hang up a crude hammock using some of the old fishing net that Silver had found in one of the storehouses closer to the water’s edge. That was a tantalizing thought; she’d spent so much time sleeping on the ground that she couldn’t wait to give her back a little bit of a reprieve with the hammock.

But despite all that, Kestrel struggled to fall asleep that night. Whenever her tired and aching body dragged her to sleep, her mind would conjure up nightmares that would startle her awake again. In one, she watched Wanderer’s head snap back from a gunshot, only to realize that she was holding a smoking revolver in her wing. In another, she found herself dressed in a pink suit as she prowled through the bayou, rifle raised and ready as she slowly stalked closer and closer to a campfire and the happy chatter coming from it. In a third, she fought with that PPDA agent, Lyra, with her bare hooves, only for the mint green unicorn to seize her throat with her magic and dunk her head into the river, never letting go until Kestrel could do nothing except desperately gasp for air and inhale the murky waters of the Maressissippi.

After managing to scrape together some fitful sleep, Kestrel awoke right around dawn, though she could hardly tell it by the gray clouds still hanging low over the sky, coating the ground with a light drizzle of rain. She took a few minutes to herself to try and gather her wits and wake up fully before diving headfirst into the day ahead, and nearly fell back to sleep when she rested her eyes and let the gentle swaying of her makeshift hammock rock her back and forth like a foal in a cradle. Yet eventually, she managed to hop out of the hammock and stretch each of her six limbs in turn, donning her duster and hat to keep the rain off of her coat as she made her way to the central building where the Gang was likely preparing breakfast.

The tempting smell of eggs and haybacon wafted through the door as she opened it and made her way inside, and she licked her lips in anticipation. After several days spent on the road with no time for anything except for cold rations to start the day, a nice, hearty and hot breakfast was just the thing she needed.

Unfortunately, the atmosphere inside the building was still subdued from the events in Hoofston. Miss Irons, though the one who had originally prepared the meal, had taken her tin plate and sat off to the side at a wobbly table to eat her meal alone. Sitting in the common area were Tumbleweed, Roughshod, and Snapshot, though none shared any words with each other, each eating their meal in peace. And Silver was nowhere to be seen; Kestrel wondered if she’d gotten into another bottle last night, or if the young mare had merely gone to stretch her wings and take a flight around the camp. She hoped it was the latter.

After preparing her breakfast, Kestrel took her plate in her wing and dropped it at an unoccupied spot at the table before sliding into her seat. She took a few bites, savoring the hot food, before she looked around at the stallions sitting around her. “Well? Celestia’s sake, somepony say somethin’. Breakfast ain’t the same without some chatter.”

“Breakfast ain’t the same without an old stallion and his stories,” Tumbleweed muttered. But, putting his hooves on the table and rolling his neck, the Gang’s leader pushed aside any introspection and assumed a tough and straight face. “But we still gotta get on without him. I’ll miss him—we all will—but we can’t let it slow us down. It ain’t what he woulda wanted.”

Roughshod and Snapshot nodded in agreement, though only the former voiced his thoughts. “We ain’t gonna get caught in a trap like that again. Anypony who’s between us and freedom better step aside or be moved aside. I don’t care how many Pinks, police, and ponies I have to put in the ground to make it happen, but we ain’t gonna die here in New Oatleans. It ain’t gonna happen.”

“We gotta count on each other more than ever,” Kestrel agreed. “But most importantly, we gotta act fast. We gotta scope out the situation here and figure out what to hit, fast. We give the Pinks any more time to catch up to us, it’ll be our heads.” She looked around the room and frowned. “Silvie come in here yet?”

“Just to grab some eggs earlier,” Tumbleweed said. “She’s feelin’ a bit under the weather. Gonna try to sleep it off, she said.”

Kestrel frowned at that, and her wings fidgeted at her sides. It looked like the rain did manage to go stick Silver; that meant she was the Gang’s only flier for the time being, until she got better. It wasn’t the best solution, but hopefully Silver would have enough time to recover, and this wouldn’t be anything more than a little sniffle. They needed everypony at full strength in the days to come.

“Guess I’m our scout, then,” Kestrel said. She finished off the rest of her breakfast and stood up, stretching her wings in preparation for a flight. “I’ll see if I can find anythin’ promisin’ to hit ‘fore the Pinks figure us out. Ain’t got no time to waste.”

“Don’t get killed out there,” Roughshod said. “We need at least one good pair of wings in the Gang at all times.”

“I know how to handle myself.” Kestrel dug into the pocket of her duster and pulled out a cigarette and some matches. She set the cigarette in her lips and nodded at Tumbleweed. “Your plans for today, boss?”

“Keep everypony safe and maybe explore a bit more ‘round the camp,” Tumbleweed said. “Best to know the terrain right ‘round us in case we get any unexpected visitors. You’ll be the only one headin’ out today, so stay safe.”

Kestrel nodded and struck her match off her horseshoe, lighting her cigarette before turning away to head out the door. “Right. Be back ‘fore sunset, at the latest.”

She made her way outside and, after spending a few minutes to finish off her cigarette, tossed the butt away and took to the sky. She built up a little bit of altitude before looking outwards, where the great Maressissippi meandered north and south through the lush bayou surrounding New Oatleans. To the north, she saw the rise in the bayou that marked the hideout of the moonshiners, while to the south, the city of New Oatleans beckoned to her, a jewel at the mouth of the river. All she had to do was decide on a direction and fly, and see where the winds of fate took her.

Return to the moonshiners. Some new friends could be just the thing we need to make some headway here, and maybe they’ll know somethin’ we wouldn’t find out anyplace else. ‘Course, they could just shoot me; that wouldn’t get the Gang very far, now would it?

Head south to New Oatleans. We’re here to go and find what riches await us in the city, ain’t we? With all the ships and railroads comin’ through that city, there’ll be plenty of places to look around and find somethin’ promisin’ that’ll get us rich quick.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 133

Head south to New Oatleans: 13 Votes

It was a very quick decision, and Kestrel wasted no time turning to the south and setting her sights on the city on the river. The moonshiners would just be a distraction, and quite possibly a lethal one at that. Kestrel had no idea how they would react to an intruder sticking her nose into their business; probably poorly, if she were to take a guess. And the last thing she needed to do was get herself killed in a misunderstanding with the local moonshiners.

Besides, they were unlikely to yield anything promising, unless they knew something. And even if they did know something, they had no reason to immediately trust an outsider with it, presuming they didn’t just kill her first. Her best bet to find something suitable for the Gang was to poke around the city and see what she could uncover, while hopefully remaining inconspicuous and discreet. A niggling worry in the back of her mind wondered if the Pinks had already gotten ahead of her and started hanging posters around town. If they had…

Well, it was something she dealt with in any town the Gang traveled to; a big city wouldn’t be any different. And, if she was lucky, the density of ponies would help her disappear from sight, another wanderer on the road coming from somewhere and heading to nowhere. Besides, city folk weren’t as friendly as country folk. In the country, where there was only space and little company, ponies wanted to get to know each other and be together. In the city, there were too many ponies and not enough space. Everypony wanted what little personal space they could carve out of their brick and mortar world, and most would rather mind their own business than stick their noses into another mare’s affairs.

Still, even as she approached the city, a growing uneasiness settled in her gut. As the buildings became closer and clearer, so too did the ponies between them. Dozens of pegasi flitted from balconies and rooftops, filling the sky enough that Kestrel actually had to pay attention to where she was flying lest she crash into somepony. It was a far cry from Hoofston, which was mostly an earth pony city, though not quite as bad as Clousdale or Las Pegasus, Equestria’s great sky-cities that the pegasus race called their own. But the pegasi in the air, and the thick crowds of ponies, zebras, and even griffons in the city streets below, meant that there would always be somecreature looking at her. Whether or not they would recognize her face would be a different matter entirely, but the dappling on her coat and feathers certainly wouldn’t help her blend in at a glance.

She picked a spot to land that was out of the way yet also close to a busy intersection to land and quickly slip into the crowd. She made sure her hat was pulled down enough so that nopony flying above her could see her face, and after a moment’s thought, she slipped her wings through the slits in her duster to hide them against her body. It’d take her a second to pop them out again if she needed to fly, but it would help obscure her status as a pegasus, and that degree of separation might be enough to shake some suspicion off her tail if anypony thought she looked familiar. Hopefully it would be enough.

A trolley rang its bell as she stopped at the corner, a few ponies hopping on, a few ponies hopping off. The passengers were dressed nicely, but plainly; robbing a trolley wouldn’t net the Gang more than pocketchange, and they needed a massive score if they were going to get out of the country once and for all. She needed to think bigger, but thankfully, she had an idea of what she was looking for.

She spent the next hour slowly making her way through New Oatleans, doing her best to maintain a low profile while exploring the city. After some time, she was able to spot a large bank dominating a street corner near the town square, with a steady flow of ponies moving in and out. A large branch bank like that would be a lucrative target to hit, but also a risky one, she knew. The sheer number of ponies could make it difficult to control, unless the Gang managed to hit it during slower hours, and the building itself had electricity, which meant it likely had an alarm bell that a teller could trip with the push of a button. But there was little doubt in Kestrel’s mind that robbing the bank would get the Gang the bits they needed to buy their way to freedom, provided that they could pull it off.

Further wandering took her down to the dockyards, where numerous ships steamed into the harbor, offloaded their goods, took on fresh cargo, and set sail once more. There was a chance that there could be something to take here, Kestrel thought to herself as she watched the crew of one ship shove crates onto crane platforms and hoist them off of the ship’s decks. Extremely valuable cargo had to come into and out of the harbor, right? Unfortunatley, the Gang had no way of telling what ships would be moving what, not without getting access to somepony who had that information. It was a plan that they would have to work through later. At the very least, the presence of ships in the harbor opened up an idea in the back of her mind. If the absolute worst came down to the absolute worst, the Gang might be able to stow away on one of those ships and flee the city entirely…

Both options carried a lot of risk to them, especially the bank robbery, but by the time it was time for lunch, they were the only two options that Kestrel had managed to sniff out. They needed something that could yield a payday large enough to get everypony in the Gang safely out of the country and set them up with a new life somewhere else. Anything less than that wasn’t worth hitting, because there wasn’t any guarantee they could slip away from the Pinks once more after what happened in Hoofston.

Kestrel sighed and leaned against the railing overlooking the harbor, rolling her neck from side to side and eliciting several sharp pops from the vertebrae. She was trying to decide between sticking around longer to see if she could find out anything else, or getting out of New Oatleans while she was still unrecognized and reporting back on what little she’d scraped together from her time in the city. Before she could make up her mind, a gust of wind off the sea managed to catch the bottom of her hat when she had her neck tilted to the side and popped it right off her head. She cursed and tried to catch it with her wing, only to remember she’d tucked her wings inside of her duster when she only pushed against cloth. She turned and galloped after it, intending to catch it in her teeth as it rolled along the concrete pier, so close to the water’s edge, only for a quick glow of a unicorn’s magic to catch it before it tumbled into the bay.

“Pardon, miss, you drop this?” a mare’s voice asked, and Kestrel raised her head and looked to the side at the speaker. But her eyes widened and she froze for a split second when she recognized a police officer’s uniform covering the mare’s body, complete with shiny silver badge reflecting the light of the day. The police officer moved to return the hat to Kestrel, but her magic stopped just out of reach as her eyes met Kestrel’s. She blinked, Kestrel blinked, and then the patrolmare’s eyes narrowed. “Soc au’ lait…?” she muttered to herself, before her eyes sparked in recognition a moment later. “Wait, I’ve seen your face on a poster, haven’t I?”

Kestrel rolls Lady Luck (7) to not be recognized in New Oatleans: Critical Fail

Kestrel hesitated a moment longer, the gears in her mind whirring as she tried to figure out a response before the officer could act. She didn’t know if she should fight, flee, or try to talk her way out of the situation. Her only saving grace was that the two mares were somewhat isolated, out of sight and out of earshot save for anypony who happened to already be looking at that far corner of the quay.

Fight. If I can surprise this mare and take her down quietly, then our cover ain’t blown yet, and we can get outta this ordeal without nopony knowin’ that we’re near the city. Course, she’s a policemare, and though she ain’t a hardened killer like a Pink, she’s probably got a little bit of trainin’ in a fight.

Flee. Tryin’ to take her on is too risky. My best bet’s to get outta here, get back to the Gang, and try to plan a move as quickly as we can. Time is of the essence, and the clock just started tickin’.

Talk. It might be difficult, but I might be able to try and sweet talk my way outta this. But that means I gotta relax and try to get her to listen to me, which means I’m givin’ her the advantage should she not want to hear me out.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 134

Fight: 12 Votes

There wasn’t much debate to be had; Kestrel knew her best chance at getting out of this one alive and without compromising the Gang’s position in New Oatleans was to take down the police officer as quickly and quietly as she could. Running would only delay the inevitable, and she didn’t trust herself to have as silver a tongue as she needed to talk her way out of the situation. Fighting was the only option she had left.

Kestrel rolls initiative using Muscle (+2 for surprise) (+2 for Daring): 18

Kestrel (18) attacks the police officer (10) first

While the police officer looked like she was still trying to decide on an appropriate reaction to coming fact to face with a dangerous outlaw hunted across the country, Kestrel quickly coiled her legs and launched at the mare, hooves ready to get her off balance and allow her to draw her knife and make the kill. She closed the distance in two blinks of an eye, but that extra blink she had to take without the use of her wings was enough time for her target to realize her imminent peril and dodge out of the way of Kestrel’s swing. She tried to retaliate herself to knock Kestrel to the ground, but Kestrel hopped a step back and managed to pop her wings through the slits in her duster to regain her mobility.

Kestrel attacks the police officer using Muscle (5): Critical Fail

With her wings spread, Kestrel lunged in for another attack, but in that moment, the unicorn had drawn the nightstick from her belt and swung it with surprising speed and force just as Kestrel drew in close. The swiftness of the riposte caught the outlaw by surprise, and the black stick cracked hard against Kestrel’s muzzle. Kestrel thought for sure she heard something in her nose crack, and the sharp pain a moment later confirmed it, followed by the hot dribble of blood over her lips. It almost put her down on the ground, but she caught herself on a wing and quickly pushed herself back to her hooves.

Kestrel has suffered a Serious, Non-Lethal Injury (-2 Healthiness)

“Lie down! You’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer!” the mare shouted, and the tip of her nightstick managed to clip Kestrel’s ear as she barely ducked her head out of the way. Kestrel drew her knife in the same motion and slashed at the officer’s legs, but the mare reared back and drew them just out of the way. The nightstick came flying through the air once more, but this time Kestrel widely backed away, taking extra care to keep an eye on the weapon held in the unicorn’s sparkling magic. She spared herself only a moment to make sure that nopony had seen their scuffle down by the end of the quay, and in that quick glance, she didn’t see anypony running or shouting for help.

This time the policemare took the initiative, swinging the nightstick again at Kestrel, but Kestrel was ready for it this time. Ignoring the pain in her muzzle and her jaw, the outlaw slipped under the swing from the nightstick and slashed at the police officer’s face with the knife. Though the officer turned her head away at the last moment, the point caught in the flesh just below her lower lip, and the turn of Kestrel’s neck dragged it up through the mare’s cheek before the blade lost contact with her skin. A few drops of blood flew into the air, and then more began to drip onto the ground when the two mares separated again.

They didn’t remain separated for long. Capitalizing on the shock of the wound, Kestrel lunged forward once again, this time throwing her entire bodyweight against the policemare. Though she was the smaller pegasus, Kestrel’s momentum was enough to tackle the unicorn to the ground while she still reeled from her injury, and a quick strike from her steel-shod hoof to the end of the mare’s horn disrupted the spell she’d been channeling. The nightstick clattered to the ground, and while the mare’s eyes rolled back in pain, Kestrel quickly spun the knife around in her teeth and drove it straight into the mare’s neck. She coughed blood and convulsed once, but a second stab just under her jawline bled away any energy her body had left. The light faded from her eyes, and soon the dead mare’s blood began to pool on the concrete pier, a crimson paint that seeped its way into the cracks crisscrossing the ground.

Kestrel fell back on her haunches and spit out her knife, bringing a hoof to her broken nose in the process to try and stem some of the bleeding. While a broken nose wouldn’t be the death of her, it was still more than she wanted to deal with right now, especially when it started to heal and any strain on her muzzle could cause it to unset again. The painful throbbing at the end of her muzzle would be a pain to deal with as well; what she wouldn’t give to step into a bar and stick her nose in an icebox until it was numb. But that was a luxury she certainly couldn’t afford, if not in money, then certainly in time and unwanted attention. Her number one priority needed to be cleaning up the mess she’d made and getting out of the town.

Grimacing, she stood up and dragged the police officer’s body toward the railing on the quay, intending to just dump the body into the water and fleeing before anypony saw something they shouldn’t. But she had only managed to haul the mare up to the edge of the railing by the back of her neck when a door opened on a nearby tavern and a small group of patrons stepped out, chatting to each other as they left from their early lunch. Despite Kestrel’s best efforts, the three happened to look her way before she finished tossing the body into the water, and their chatter abruptly silenced as the three ponies looked at Kestrel, and Kestrel back at them, the policemare’s corpse consigned to an inceremonious splash in the water.

Was the fight noticed by anypony? Critical Yes

Kestrel couldn’t believe her luck. She wondered what she had done to antagonize Lady Luck, and why the cruel bitch seemed so intent on causing her trouble. The fight with the policemare had been closer than she would have liked, and now she had three New Oatleaners who witnessed its aftermath.

How much worse would this whole ordeal escalate?

Flee. I have to cut my losses now; I can’t keep hangin’ ‘round, gettin’ into fights tryin’ to make my clean getaway. We’re past that point; best I can hope for now is that they didn’t recognize me, and see me as just some other common crook.

Attempt to intimidate them into silence. I ain’t gonna be able to deal with ‘em usin’ violence like I did the policemare; only chance I would have at silencin’ ‘em for good would be with my guns, and that’ll only escalate the situation further. But they don’t need to know that. Maybe I can scare ‘em into stayin’ quiet, but of course, that just gives ‘em more time to study my face, maybe put two and two together, and realize who they’re dealin’ with here.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 135

Flee: 13 Votes

After a moment of indecision, Kestrel quickly concluded that the situation in New Oatleans was simply not going to improve if she decided to stick around. Dealing with the policemare had been necessary; she had recognized Kestrel, and she had the ability to make the Law aware of the Gang’s presence in the city. There was a chance she’d get lucky with the three patrons that had walked out of the nearby tavern. Maybe they didn’t recognize her, or maybe they had had just enough to drink to cloud their judgment. At this point, leaving New Oatleans without anypony recognizing her was all up to Lady Luck’s hooves, though considering the hoof she’d already dealt her today, Kestrel wasn’t too enthused about that prospect.

In one quick motion, Kestrel turned away from the onlookers and drew her bandana over her muzzle, obscuring most of her face from view. Her wing snatched her hat from the ground and jammed it on her head, and then she hopped over the railing and fanned her wings to catch herself on the air before she landed in the salty water below. Her feathers spread to their fully dappled glory, and then she was flap-flap-flapping away as fast as she could, using a nearby ship to break line of sight back to the quay before she changed direction and dived down a street, hoping to disappear into the crowd of ponies going about their daily business.

She only stopped when she’d covered almost a good mile by wing. She zipped down an alleyway and came to a stop on the dirt between the buildings, her wings shaking a little from the sprint to safety. She pulled her bandana down off of her broken nose, grimacing when she saw the dark red stain of blood in the fabric. “What a mess,” she grumbled to herself, and she fell down on her haunches as she caught her breath. “What a damn mess. You really gotta start us off on this hoof, ain’t ya, you moody bitch?”

She turned embittered eyes skyward, as if she expected to see her fickle patron of luck looking down at her from somewhere in the skies, but saw nothing. Baring her teeth, Kestrel stood up and trotted out of the alley, quickly taking wing again and climbing to rooftop level as she made her way north out of the city. Only when she had put enough distance between the population center and herself did she finally climb higher to get out of the humid air near the ground and take an easier flight back to camp—but she never stopped looking over her shoulder, as if she expected Pinks to come bursting out of the trees all around her, ready to take her down before she made it back to the rest of the Gang.

But none did, and Kestrel eventually saw the abandoned harbor that the Gang had turned into their hideout near the city. From up above, she spotted a few figures standing down by the water’s edge, so she angled her wings toward them and began to descend. When she got closer, she recognized Tumbleweed and Roughshod standing in the water up to their knees, a bucket positioned between them. She alighted on the shore in time to see Tumbleweed pick up a writhing armored crustacean with his magic and toss it into the bucket, making a face all the while. “Glad to see you two got lunch taken care of for me,” she said, garnering both stallions’ attention with a quip.

Roughshod looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. “You been in a fight, Kessie? Or you fly into a window in town?”

“I almost wish it was the latter,” Kestrel said, and she gingerly rubbed her broken nose with her wing. The bleeding had largely stopped, and Kestrel could feel the clots in her nostrils; she was going to have a fun few days while she waited for it to set and start to heal. “Policemare in town recognized me. I had to deal with her, but she weren’t gonna go down without a fight.”

That made Tumbleweed frown. “Did anypony else notice you?” he asked her.

“Some ponies came outta a tavern right as I finished up,” Kestrel said. “I got outta there fast as I could. We just gotta hope they didn’t recognize me.”

“That we do.” Tumbleweed sighed and picked up the bucket in his magic, starting to walk back towards the buildings in the center of the camp. Kestrel and Roughshod followed him, hanging back a little bit off his shoulder. “I was hopin’ we’d be able to get at least a little more time ‘fore we start causin’ a ruckus in town, but I suppose we shoulda figured that there’d already be posters for us all ‘round town and that the local law would be keepin’ an eye out for us. Pinks probably made sure every town within a few days of Hoofston’s keepin’ their eyes peeled.”

“Maybe we woulda stayed hidden a little while longer if we’d sent Silvie instead of our spotted bird,” Roughshod said. “Can’t trust Kessie to keep things quiet.”

Kestrel shot a frown at the stallion. “I don’t think you’d get very far without somepony takin’ note, big guy.”

“I know. That’s why I weren’t suggestin’ I go do it.”

“Fillies…” Tumbleweed warned them, and before they entered the main building where they’d been preparing meals, the Gang’s leader stopped and turned around to face them. “Look, it ain’t good that we didn’t even get a day in New Oatleans without somepony sniffin’ us out. Now, I don’t know how long we got ‘fore the jaws of this bear trap come slammin’ shut, but we ain’t got the time to sit in the middle and point hooves. We gotta act fast, lest the Law get the first move. Now, Kessie, were you able to uncover anythin’ while you were there? You were gone for some time; I can only hope you was at least a little productive ‘fore you were seen.”

“I only got a general idea of things down there,” Kestrel said. “There’s a big bank on the corner of town square that’d get us everythin’ we need and more supposin’ we could pull it off. But it’s busy, and it’s modern. It could be a tough nut to crack.”

“Maybe too tough,” Tumbleweed muttered as he thought to himself. “It’d be difficult with only the six of us. Splittin’ off from Starlight and losin’ Trixie and Wanderer in Hoofston’s got us short of ponypower.”

“But it’s possible,” Roughshod countered. “We just gotta hit ‘em so hard we knock their shoes right offa ‘em.”

“The other idea’s the ships in the docks. New Oatleans is a big ol’ trade town. I bet there’s a lotta valuable cargo we could get our hooves on and sell off for the right price. However…” She stopped and rubbed the back of her neck with her hoof. “I ain’t got the faintest idea what might be worth hittin’. We’d need to take some time to work ponies over, see if we can get access to any shippin’ registries or logs. Maybe buy a few drinks for somepony in charge of the dockyards and see what they spill. Pickin’ a ship at random and tryin’ to steal a box of freight ain’t likely to get us the money we need to get outta here.”

“Agreed.” Tumbleweed thought for a moment, then looked out into the bayou. “Silvie mentioned somethin’ ‘bout some moonshiners out in the bayou. Reckon some fellow unsavory souls might be willin’ to trade for some information?”

“Makin’ shine’s easy. Smugglin’ it’s the hard part,” Roughshod offered. “They fix us up with their smuggler pals, we might be able to find somethin’ good.”

“Or they could just shoot us,” Kestrel cautioned. “They got the place guarded; don’t seem like they the bunch to enjoy drop-by visitors. We’d be takin’ a risk tryin’ to make contact with ‘em. We don’t know what they’re like or what we stand to gain save for a bullet to the brain if we try.”

Tumbleweed nodded. “All valid concerns,” he acknowledged. “But all I know is we ain’t got the time to sit around on our flanks in indecision. We gotta make a choice now on which one we wanna pursue. We wait any longer, the Pinks’ll be on us like flies on pig shit. So, keepin’ that in mind… which one’s our best chance at gettin’ outta this country alive?”

The bank. We know there’s enough money just sittin’ there, waitin’ for us to grab it. Only question is, are we bitin’ off more than we can chew?

The ships. All them ships sittin’ in harbor’s like a bunch of surprise boxes. We just gotta tilt the odds in our favor and pick the one that’s got the best goodies if we want to make it worth our while.

The moonshiners. Our best bet’s throwin’ in with scoundrels like us. There’s a chance they might know somethin’ we don’t. There’s also a chance they might shoot us ‘fore we can ask ‘em what it is.

We need more time. This is still too early to be makin’ a decision on what to do. We gotta get back into the city, scope it out more, try to find somethin’ concrete to work with.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 136

The moonshiners: 9 Votes

The three ponies debated for what felt like an eternity, but they finally settled on the one option that didn’t demand an immediate commitment to action. In the end, the three outlaws agreed that there simply was too much they didn’t know about the bank or the harbor, and if they could get more information, any information, from somepony who might be willing to share it, then it was a necessity that they did so as soon as they could. They didn’t have the luxury of taking shots in the dark, nor did they have the time to wait. They needed quick, decisive action if they had any hope of leaving New Oatleans alive.

To that end, Tumbleweed and Kestrel resolved to go out and see if they could meet with the moonshiners after lunch, leaving Miss Irons with Snapshot, Roughshod, and Silver to watch over the camp. Kestrel was happy to see Silvie show her face for lunch, though the younger gray pegasus was huddled under a blanket and forced herself to eat against her loss of appetite. She spent most of the time sniffling and shivering, but her concerns were only for Kestrel when she saw the crooked bent of Kestrel’s nose and the wads of cloth she’d stuffed in her nostrils to stymie any leftover bleeding.

“What happened to ya, Kessie?!” Silver exclaimed when she saw her, her voice stuffy from her cold. “Somepony attack you in town?”

“Well, really, I was the one who started it,” Kestrel grumbled, her own voice somewhat shifted because of her blocked nostrils. “Least I finished it, though. Hopefully we ain’t gonna have nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” She pasued to slurp down some of her stew, then turned the line of questioning around on Silver. “What ‘bout you? You feelin’ any better?”

“I’ll be fine,” Silver assured her, or at least attempted to. “Just a little cold. Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about. Do my best to sleep it off, I’ll be right as rain in a day or two.”

“Rain’s probably what did you in in the first place,” Kestrel said. “You just make sure you eat somethin’ and stay hydrated and warm. Humid air ‘round here’s ain’t gonna make it easy on you gettin’ any better.”

“If the mosquitos stop suckin’ me dry, that’d be a great start.” Silver sighed and huddled her blanket closer against her sides with her wings. “How anypony lives down here’s beyond me. Poor ponies must be miserable year-round and cover in bug bites.”

Kestrel could only chuckle at that. “Well, we end up anyplace tropical, we might be dealin’ with them for a little longer.”

“Yeah, but we’ll have the beach to cook ‘em off. That’s what I could use right now: a nice long retirement in the Caymares or somethin’.”

“We’ll do our best to get our retirement funds built up,” Kestrel said. Then she finished off the rest of her soup and stood up. “Just take it easy. Don’t know when we’ll need you at full strength, but it’s gonna be sooner than we like. Don’t burn yourself out doin’ anythin’ you can’t get somepony else to do for you.”

Silver was at least feeling good enough to answer that with a joke. “I’ll tell Rough that you just gave me permission to boss him around all day. Bet he’d like that.”

“I bet he would.” Kestrel patted Silver on the shoulder with a wingtip. “Get better, Silvie.”

“I’ll try. Stay safe, Kessie.”

“I’ll try.”

Then she was outside again with her weapons ready when Tumbleweed came to get her. Together, they shouldered their weapons in case things with the moonshiners grew testy, or they encountered any trouble, and Tumbleweed also brought along some of their spending bits from the train robbery back in Rock Ridge. They hadn’t managed to go through everything they set aside from that robber for supplies and the like, and Tumbleweed figured some gold might come in handy in case they needed to cozy up to the shiners to get what they wanted.

“How we wanna do this?” Kestrel asked when they set off from camp, making their way along the road to find some dry and high ground to begin to turn north toward the moonshiners’ camp.

“Peacefully, if we can.” Tumbleweed said. “We give ‘em a holler when we’re near their little camp so they know we’re comin’. I reckon if they know that we ain’t got any intentions on sneakin’ up on ‘em, they might trust us a bit more. After all, if we was gonna shoot ‘em or try and rob ‘em, we wouldn’t be lettin’ ‘em know we was comin’, right?”

“I hope they got as much common sense as you do, Boss,” Kestrel said. “Least we’ll know real quick if they’re gonna kill us instead of waitin’ in suspense.”

“Yeah, ain’t that a relief?”

They found a point to get off of the road and begin to hike through the bayou, doing their best to avoid large bodies of water and anything that looked like a tree submerged in the murky swamps. After the incident with Silvie, the last thing they needed was an alligator thinking they would make a good meal. Kestrel hadn’t ever encountered an alligator before and didn’t know what they were capable of, but the teeth on the monstrous lizard that had lunged for Silver had convinced her she didn’t want anything to do with them.

Occasionally, Kestrel would dart up out of the trees to check their heading and make sure they were still moving toward the moonshiners’ camp, then report on their progress to Tumbleweed. It was difficult to navigate under the canopy of trees, and the moss-covered tree trunks were so large and grew so close together that it was difficult to see very far ahead. And since they hadn’t discovered the wagon trail that the shiners would have to use to move wagons full of their product out of their camp, they didn’t have any means of knowing from the ground if they were going in the right direction.

When they were only about ten minutes away from the camp, Tumblweed stopped and turned to Kestrel. “Kessie? I gotta ask you somethin’. Lookin’ for your input.”

Kestrel stopped and gave Tumbleweed a puzzled look. “What’s on your mind, Tumbleweed? You know I’ll share mine with you straight.”

Tumbleweed sighed and looked away, finding a nearby tree to lean against. “Do you think we’ll make it?” he asked her. “And if we do, how many of us are we gonna lose on the way?”

Kestrel wanted to snap back at him and let him know that she had no doubt in her mind—but she knew that was a lie, and she wouldn’t help her old friend out if she didn’t give it to him straight. “I don’t know, Tumbleweed,” she admitted with a sigh, and her wingtips briefly drooped and brushed against the ground. Desperation and the need to act strong for the rest of the Gang had kept her going, but now, alone with Tumbleweed and without the need to put on a show for everypony else, for Silvie, she felt… tired. “That door’s gettin’ mighty close to shuttin’. And it ain’t lettin’ a whole lotta light in no more.”

“I know what you mean. I feel the same.” Tumbleweed shook his head and looked off to the side, where some sort of wetlands bird that Kestrel didn’t recognize landed by a pond to hunt fish. “These ponies… they look up to us. They trust us to do what’s right. To keep ‘em safe. And after Hoofston… I ain’t so sure that they should be.”

Kestrel frowned. “It was bad luck, Tumbleweed. We made a mistake and it cost us more than we was thinkin’ it would. But it ain’t the end. Not yet.”

“Ain’t it?” Tumbleweed gave Kestrel a straight look in the eyes. “We lost Wanderer. We lost that Trixie tramp too, but Wanderer was with us for years and years. He was like a father to me, and I know it weren’t just me. Miss Irons’ hurtin’ somethin’ fierce, and outta all of us, she’s the rock that keeps the Gang together. She’s the one who makes camp feel like home, and right now, we ain’t got a home. Only a shelter.”

Kestrel bit her lip as a pained expression crossed her face. She knew what Tumbleweed was trying to say: Wanderer’s death had shaken the Gang to its core, and his easygoing nature and many, many stories had a way of smoothing over bumps and filling in cracks. But now everypony was stressed, and the rocky start they’d gotten off in New Oatleans hadn’t done anything to make it better. And, underneath it all, she knew the worry that Tumbleweed wanted to voice, but couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

“You wanna know how much longer we got ‘til we crack,” Kestrel concluded for him.

“I know we’re already cracked,” Tumbleweed said. “I wanna know how much longer ‘til we break.”

Kestrel rubbed at her eyes with the crest of a wing. “I ain’t sure, Boss,” she told him. “And I bet you ain’t the only one who’s been thinkin’ it. But so long as we’re movin’ forward, then we can keep the rest of ‘em followin’ along with us. We gotta keep our momentum up. Soon as we stop, then the Gang falls apart. So long as we got a plan, even if it ain’t a great one, then we got a chance.”

“I can only hope you’re right,” Tumbleweed said. “I’m willin’ to bet that the Pinks are all over this damn city. And after what you told me ‘bout your chance meetin’ in Hoofston with two of ‘em, I bet they’re just waitin’ to sink their hooks into one of us. I know you’d never turn us over, but I don’t know how much longer we can keep the others in line.”

“You really think Rough would turn us over?” Kestrel asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know what I think no more,” Tumbleweed said with an edge of annoyance in his words, though Kestrel could tell it was aimed squarely at himself. “And no. I don’t think it would happen. After you and me, Rough’s the one I peg for most loyal. He’s a brick-headed jackass, but he hates the Law more than anythin’ else. He’d never turn on us.” Then he sighed. “Snapshot’s the one I’m worried the most about. He’s former army, and he’s cold. Distant. Ain’t nothin’ personal, just the way he is. Keeps his thoughts to himself, don’t like much to interact with anypony else. And I wonder—and it ain’t fair of me to wonder it of him—I wonder what would happen if them Pinks pinned him in a room and laid it all out on the table for him, plain as day to see.”

“He wouldn’t,” Kestrel insisted, but she still ended up pursing her lips after she said it. “He’s been with us through thick and thin. He wouldn’t just turn us over and leave.”

“He left the army when the war with the griffons ended because they wanted to station him in our winnings,” Tumbleweed said. “He woulda been there with the ponies he served with, and he chose to leave it. Talk with Rough ‘bout the war, and he’ll tell you all ‘bout the comrades he fought with, everything he woulda done and would still do for ‘em if they asked him to this day. Talk with Snap about the war, and you don’t get nothin’. No mention of his comrades, nothin’ ‘bout the ponies he fought with. War’s like crime, Kessie, only difference is the government gives you metals instead of manacles when you kill somepony. You don’t go through that and not feel a shred of loyalty for the ponies you fought with.”

Sighing, Tumbleweed stood up straight again and shook his head. “But we don’t need this in the air now. Might not even matter if those moonshiners shoot us dead. Best we go and see if we still gotta worry ‘bout all that after this meetin’, or if we’re gonna be gator food.”

He turned back to the north and continued to walk, though Kestrel was a bit slower behind him. Her head was swimming with thoughts. She didn’t know what to think of Tumbleweed’s worries. Was he just being a leader worrying about the ponies who followed him? Or was there some shred of truth to it?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t know Snapshot well enough to say one thing or another for sure. She’d gotten him to open up with their shooting contest before Hoofston… but that was one of the few times she’d gotten more than a few sentences out of him in one sitting in the four years he’d been with the Gang. The only thing she could judge him by was his reliability in a fight, and with that, he’d never let her down.

But everypony had a breaking point. And the truth of the matter was that Kestrel didn’t know enough about Snapshot to know where he put his.

It soured her mood worse than the gray clouds beginning to gather overhead.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

Sorry it took me so long to get this out. I just kept putting it off, so I didn't really have an excuse. It's longer than normal though, so hopefully that makes up for it a little bit.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 137

A few more minutes of walking brought Kestrel and Tumbleweed to the edge of the swamps, where the rocky high ground created a natural clearing in the middle of the trees, and drier ground to stand on. The two outlaws had located what looked to be the main trail the moonshiners used to bring their wagons in and out of the camp, and had shadowed it in parallel through the undergrowth to approach unseen and make their initial observations to assess what they might be dealing with. After all, the last thing they wanted was to stumble right into a business dealing with any potential customers. Both Kestrel and Tumbleweed agreed that would create a tense situation that would all but assure the meeting got off on the wrong hoof.

Hiding behind some plants and staying low and in the shadows, the two ponies surveyed the camp from a distance. “How’s it look compared to when you and Silvie was here?” Tumbleweed asked Kestrel in a low voice.

“Ain’t all that much different,” Kestrel said. There wasn’t any activity in the camp save for a quiet chatter of background conversation, and just as before, Kestrel spotted a unicorn mare sitting on a stump serving as the moonshiners’ lookout, her well-worn rifle kept by her side. Her demeanor was calm and relaxed, and she still had that same book from before in her magic. Obviously the moonshiners weren’t expecting trouble, and if they weren’t expecting trouble, then maybe they wouldn’t immediately assume Kestrel and Tumbleweed were.

“Looks calm enough,” Tumbleweed concluded alongside Kestrel. “Might be willin’ to hear us out, then.”

“We gonna do this the usual way then, Boss?” Kestrel asked him.

“Reckon so, unless you suddenly picked up a penchant for negotiations.”

“You and I both know that ain’t true,” Kestrel said with a frown. “You handle the talkin’, I’ll make sure nopony’s linin’ up a shot on us.”

“A plan if there ever was one, tried and true.” Tumbleweed nodded and backed away from the undergrowth, Kestrel mirroring him as well. “Let’s get back a ways and come up the road. Better than emergin’ outta our hidin’ spot and throwin’ off red flags in their sentry’s head.”

They did as Tumbleweed suggested, moving a fair bit down the road until they were out of sight, then stepping out from the wet ground and damp plants onto something a little more firm and dry. Kestrel relished the feeling of solid dirt under her hooves; she didn’t know how ponies lived out here in the hot and humid misery when even walking sometimes felt like swimming.

When they emerged out into the open in front of the camp, it took a second for the moonshiners’ sentry to notice them. Her expression turned from one of concentration on reading her book to shock at seeing strangers approaching to concern as she snapped the book shut with her magic and set it aside. Hopping to her hooves, she let out a short, shrill whistle and armed herself with a glow from her horn—though she kept the barrel of the rifle pointed toward the ground. “Afternoon,” she said, her eyes scanning Kestrel and Tumbleweed for any indication of hostility. “Can I help you?”

Are the moonshiners outright hostile to strangers? No

“I’d like to hope so,” Tumbleweed said, coming to a stop a respectful distance away from the sentry, far enough away to not make her uncomfortable or feel threatened by his approach. He looked over her shoulder and nodded his head toward the camp on the high ground, which Kestrel noticed had conjured up a few more pairs of eyes to look down at them from the unicorn’s whistle. “Am I right in assumin’ you and your compatriots out here in the middle of the bayou are shiners?”

“Distillers,” the mare corrected him, the tone in her voice making it evident that the word was chosen carefully and not without suspicion. “Who wants to know?”

Tumbleweed looked back at Kestrel for a moment, giving her a wink out of sight of the ‘distillers’ in the camp, then turned his head back around toward the sentry. “A pair of travelers with a mighty thirst who been on the road for some time and ain’t exactly lookin’ to set hoof in the fine city of New Oatleans, I suppose you’d call us.”

Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to improve the shiners’ attitude toward him and Kestrel: Success

Kestrel tried to follow along with all the double-talk floating around and get a sense of what was being said without really being said, but the body language of the sentry was much easier to read. After a moment, she relaxed her shoulders, slung her rifle over one of them, and bobbed her head toward Tumbleweed, inviting the two outlaws to come closer. “Reckon we might be able to help with some of that. Have a taste on the house, and we’ll talk some.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” Tumbleweed said, and when he and Kestrel came close enough to the other unicorn, he held his hoof out for a shake. “Call me Dustbowl. My compatriot goes by Raptor.”

“Those ain’t your real names, are they?” The mare asked as she took Tumbleweed’s hoof, and the slight smile Tumbleweed gave her told her everything. “Right. Well, call me Pinpoint, or just Pin if you want. Rest of these morons do so anyway.”

“You got a big operation?” Tumbleweed asked her. “Could be a lot of morons we’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Five of us, altogether,” Pinpoint said. “Tin Cup, Cricket, Gumbo, and Shortsight are the others. We split duties evenly. We’ve got a nice operation, and we’re better than the competition, I assure you.”

“You get much competition ‘round here?” Kestrel asked her.

Pinpoint grunted and nodded as she began to climb up the wooden stairs leading up to the camp on the high ground. “Competition we could do better without, I tell ya. They’re larger and make more’n us, but they cut their shine all the time. Normally, I’d say quality over quantity, but plenty of folks ain’t gonna try somethin’ new and more expensive when they’re used to the cheap swill they buy.”

As she grumbled on about her competition, Kestrel and Tumbleweed exchanged a look. Kestrel knew they were both thinking the same thing: there was a potential opening here, one that could open doors and earn favors. That could go a long way toward getting out of New Oatleans not only alive, but rich as well.

They’d just have to wait and see.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

Didn't want to end on two no-polls in a row, but the next chapter is probably going to be longer than average, since there'll be plenty to discuss with the moonshiners. There'll definitely be a poll there as well.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 138

Kestrel never really much liked the taste of moonshine—it was basically unfinished whiskey that put a mare on her back from how strong it was—but she had to learn to like it quick, or at least pretend to, when Pinpoint set a glass jar down in front of her, half-full with clear liquid. “Some of our best from the current batch,” the unicorn proclaimed, and she sat down across from the wooden table Kestrel and Tumbleweed had been led to. “Trust me, we always sample our stock for the best. Guess you could call it a perk of the job.”

“If we didn’t keep you on watch, we wouldn’t have none left,” a gray stallion remarked from her side. Pinpoint had introduced him as Tin Cup, and from what Kestrel had seen of the moonshiners, he seemed like the oldest one and their little group’s de facto leader. At the very least, he had volunteered himself to join Pinpoint in accommodating potential customers, while the other three shiners regarded them with suspicion, curiosity, or just plain indifference, respectively.

“I sneak my shots where I can,” Pin shot back. She grabbed a glass of her own and raised it to her lips, savoring a strong sip, prompting the three other ponies to do the same. Kestrel suppressed her shiver of revulsion as the moonshine hit her tongue and swallowed it quickly to get it out of her mouth as soon as she could, and when she set her glass down, she forced herself to smile and nod approvingly.

“Strong stuff,” she managed, stifling a cough as the burn crawled down her throat and into her gut.

“I see you weren’t exaggeratin’ ‘bout the quality of your shine,” Tumbleweed said, and the smile on his muzzle looked so natural that Kestrel wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the taste or not—not that she could usually tell when Tumbleweed was acting and cozying up to somepony unless she knew about it beforehoof. “Best shine I’ve had in a while down here.”

“You came to the right place for good shine,” Tin Cup said. “The bayou’s a perfect place to brew it up. Plenty of real estate if you know where to look, and it’s well away from the tax mare and the officers of the law down in the city.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Tumbleweed said. “Raptor and I ain’t exactly friends of the fine ponies in uniform ourselves.”

“Most who come out to the bayou ain’t,” Pinpoint said with a curt nod. “So what’s your story?”

“Our story? Well, I suppose it’s only fair, since you were so forthcomin’ ‘bout your own tale.” Tumbleweed took another sip of his moonshine (prompting Kestrel to do the same) and leaned back in his chair. “We’re thieves, robbers, scoundrels, to use a few of the names the fine fillies and gentlecolts of the law refer to us by. Robbin’ from ponies who need robbin’ done to ‘em is one of our many specialities. We’ve been up and down Equestria, earnin’ our marks. New Oatleans is just the next stop in a long list of scores all over the country.”

“Must be pretty skilled to be cross-country thieves,” Tin Cup noted, his eyes studying the two ponies across from him with careful scrutiny.

“Or pretty lucky,” Pinpoint countered with a dismissive scoff. “Beat a beehive with a stick enough times and pretty soon you’re gonna get stung. Better to be a beekeeper makin’ your honey under the queen bee’s nose than to smash open wild hives and hope for the best.”

“That may be true for some, but there’s nothin’ quite like nature’s ample bounty when it comes to taste.” Tumbleweed flashed a disarming smile at Pinpoint, who rolled her eyes at the attempt to turn her analogy back on her. “Point being, we’re in town looking to get our next fixin’. And, perhaps, Raptor and I thought it best to consult with some of the locals who might enjoy seein’ some ponies with too much gold in their pockets lose a bit of it.”

“That so?” Tin Cup rolled his jar between his hooves and thought for a moment. “Seems like ponies would have to be pretty foolish to give away information like that for free.”

“I weren’t expectin’ it to be free; we’ll pay you for your shine, after all.” Tumbleweed grinned as he said that, and he raised the jar in his magic in a jesting toast. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement benefitin’ both parties.”

“How much you offerin’?” Pinpoint asked, leaning in.

“Depends on what you know,” Tumbleweed countered. “We’re in the business of makin’ plenty of bits in one go. Not, hundreds, and not thousands. We’re thinkin’ big, here.”

“Big, eh?” Tin Cup nodded. “I know a few ponies who know big. Plenty of surprising customers come around these parts for a few drinks under the table. You hear a couple of interesting things once a couple of businessponies are loosened up with some of the still’s finest.”

“Oh really?” Tumbleweed asked. “Like what?”

That was met with a small smile from Tin Cup. “You’re moving a little too fast, Mister Dustbowl,” the shiners’ leader said. “I’ve heard what you want. Now, here’s what I want. I’ll tell you everything I want to know if you help my business out.”

“I’m not sure we’d make greet street marketers for you,” Tumbleweed said, and Kestrel nodded. “Rather not be showin’ our faces ‘round town ‘til we’re ready to make our money.”

“And moonshining is the kind of business that benefits more from word of mouth than fliers and criers,” Tin Cup said. “I take it, judging by your ambitions, that your little group is more than just the two of you. And I also take it, given your apparent reputation, that you know how to look after yourselves, in a fight or otherwise.” Then he looked at Pinpoint. “And lastly, I know that Pin probably mentioned our competition in our sales pitch. So, given all that together, I think you should have an idea of where this is going.”

Tumbleweed only nodded. “You want us to trash your competition, that it?”

“Precisely,” Tin Cup said. “Ruin their business, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Getting their customers would be quite profitable for us; a fair trade for the bits you want for yourselves, I believe.”

“We ain’t gonna throw ourselves headlong into a death trap,” Kestrel said, feeling the need to speak up. “We need to know what we’d be up against. How many of ‘em are there? Where are they at? And whose tail are we gonna be steppin’ on when all’s said and done?”

Tumbleweed gave Kestrel a quick sideways glance, likely displeased that she’d butted into the negotiations, but Pinpoint took the reins from Tin Cup and elaborated for her anyway. “Probably ‘round twenty of ‘em, by my best guess. I’d expect ‘em all to have guns; you’d be stupid to be out in the bayou without ‘em, and not just to deal with trespassers. Gators love ponymeat, and they can be quiet little lizards if they wanna be.”

“Their led by a fellow named Murky Glass,” Tin Cup said. “Supposedly he’s the disgraced cousin of New Oatleans’ mayor, but if that’s true, the mayor hasn’t said anything about it one way or the other. Still, it’s a story Glass likes to tell, and there might be some nugget of truth to it, since his operation isn’t exactly a secret to the ponies of New Oatleans. Given the city’s stance on moonshiners, you would expect that to garner unwanted attention, yet he’s never suffered any blowback from it. It makes one wonder why.” Tin Cup shook his head. “At any rate, they’ve made use of an old rotting fort that’s been all-but swallowed up by the bayou. It was decades old by the time the war with the griffons started, and thank Celestia that Equestria never had to use it to keep them out of the city. I doubt it would’ve done much had the griffons chosen to invade here instead of Tailahassee.”

“A fort, even a ruined one, could be a pain in the flank to a small band of ponies,” Tumbleweed acknowledged. Then he looked at Kestrel. “You’ve got a better hoof on the fightin’ condition of our little posse than I do, Raptor. Thoughts?”

Accept Tin Cup’s offer. If we muster everything we have, there’s a chance we might be able to put Murky Glass’ little operation out of commission before they even know what’s happnin’. If Tin Cup’s got information that could get us a nice payday that’s better than our other options, it’s worth the risk.

Decline Tin Cup’s offer. The last thing we need to do is be makin’ more enemies. It doesn’t leave us with a lot of options when it comes to makin’ our move in the city, but it also means we don’t have to risk our lives twice instead of once.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 139

Accept Tin Cup’s offer: 11 Votes

“A fort don’t mean nothin’ if you can’t get the chance to use it,” Kestrel said after some thought. “If we get inside the fort, then their walls ain’t gonna help ‘em. If we draw ‘em out of the fort, then we can forget about it altogether. Twenty ponies is a lot for a couple of guns to handle, but there’s ways to wittle it down.”

“Then it sounds like I should leave the details to the professionals, then,” Tin Cup said with a curt nod. “I don’t particularly care how you go about it, but so long as we don’t have to deal with Murky Glass’ crew undercutting our sales with cheap trash, then I’ll be satisfied. And we’ll hold up our end of the bargain.”

“I would hope so,” Tumbleweed said, and he let that statement hang in the air for a moment while he put the moonshine to his lips and drained the cup. When he put it down, he directed a pointed nod in Tin Cup’s direction. “Five is easier than twenty, after all.”

Tin Cup met his gaze, and a few seconds of uneasy silence hung over the table before Kestrel felt the need to say something to break it. “Where’s this fort at, then?” she asked the two shiners sitting across from her. “We’re gonna wanna have a look ‘round it ‘fore we plan anythin’ out. Need to know the ins and outs, patrols, weaknesses, you name it.”

“I can get you a map sketched up real quick!” Pinpoint called out, thankful that Kestrel had taken the initiative to break the unease between the two stallions permeating the swampy air around them. She hopped to her hooves to go find some paper and something to draw with, but she offered some verbal directions before she left. “It’s a couple of miles southwest of here, on one of the waterways coming in from the bay. You wouldn’t find it less you sailed up the water some, but it was built to control the Maressissippi from the bay. Find the river, and you’ll find it soon enough.”

As she slipped away, Tin Cup directed his attention to Kestrel. “I trust you’ll be able to find it on your wings if you need to. But, if there’s anything else you need to know, then just ask. I would hate to send you there unprepared.”

While Kestrel doubted the truth behind that claim, she didn’t voice those thoughts. Instead, she turned the conversation toward more practical matters. “There are a few of us with guns who can do the job,” she said. “But what ‘bout your crew? You got five ponies here, and capable I would assume. You ain’t gonna help us out? It would even the odds some.”

Tumbleweed quickly seized on that thread and tapped his hooves against the table. “If takin’ these ponies down is as important to you as you make it sound, surely you’d wanna have a stake in it too to bolster your odds of success.”

Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to convince the shiners to help with dealing with their rivals: Success

After a moment of thought, Tin Cup leaned back on his stool and looked in the direction Pinpoint had trotted off. “You can take Pin along with you,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help. But I’m going to tell her to stay back and not put herself in any more danger than she needs to be in.”

“Only her?” Kestrel asked, raising an eyebrow. “She the only one of you who knows how to use a gun?”

“She’s the one of us I’m least worried about,” Tin Cup said with a frown. “She’s a marksmare, and don’t let that dingy rifle of hers fool you, she’s as good a shot as anypony I’ve ever met. And if you don’t manage to put our rivals out of business, then I can’t afford to let Murky Glass know that we’re behind it. It’s only five against twenty, and he’d likely be able to replace anypony he loses if you don’t thoroughly trash his business. The less involved we are, the better.”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed shared a look; though both ponies knew the other didn’t like it, they also knew that it was as good of a deal they were going to get out of the shiners’ shrewd leader. “We’ll take her, then,” Tumbleweed said. “We got a markspony of our own. The two of ‘em together’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

“Good.” Tin Cup allowed himself a small smile—the one and only Kestrel had seen him let slip since they started talking with him. “And once again, I assure you that I think I can give you what you’re looking for. It’ll be tough, but well, the best things in life aren’t easy.”

“That is a lesson we’ve learned all too well,” Tumbleweed said, though his words were almost a bitter mutter to himself, and one that Kestrel herself unfortunately understood. “When we make our move on the fort, we’ll swing by here and grab Pinpoint to come along with us. Plan for three days’ time from now. Gotta take some time to scout out the fort and draw up a plan of action.”

He stood up, which Kestrel took as the signal to do the same, and Tin Cup gave them a nod from his seat. “A plan it is, then. Best of luck to your little gang.”

“Thank you kindly,” was all Tumbleweed had to offer to him, and after Pinpoint came back with a crudely drawn map of the area surrounding New Oatleans, the two outlaws said their quick goodbyes and made their way out of the shiners’ camp.

Only when they were about a mile or two away, following the road out of the camp to stay on high and dry ground, did Tumbleweed begin to let loose some of the thoughts behind his pensive expression. “They got the better end of that deal,” he finally said.

“Why’s that?” Kestrel asked him. “They’re gonna give us information to somethin’ that’ll be worth tens of thousands of bits. Enough to get outta Equestria and never look back. If they’re gonna stay here and make even more noise in the shinin’ business, I feel like they’re only gonna get more law attention on ‘em.”

“And isn’t that what we’re doin’, Kessie?” Tumbleweed asked her. “If this Murky Glass feller really is related to New Oatleans’ mayor, and assumin’ the rumor mill is true that the mayor’s lettin’ his operation slide ‘cause of blood, then we might just be whippin’ a sleepin’ bear that’s gonna be mighty ticked off at us.” He shook his head and his pensive expression shifted to a scowl. “On top of that, it’s gonna be a hoofful of us against twenty. All it takes is a lucky shot and that’s another member of the family we’re buryin’. You seen it happen to Wanderer.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Kestrel bitterly remarked. “But what other choice we got? The only other thing we know’ll have enough money to get us outta the country is that big bank in the city, and that ain’t gonna be an easy prize to take. This might be an even better opportunity than that.”

“And if we lose ponies tryin’ to help these shiners out? What if we ain’t got the strength to even seize upon that opportunity once we know what it is?” Tumbleweed stopped and sighed, stomping his hoof once into the dirt in obvious frustration. “We’re gettin’ put in a box, Kessie, and the walls all got knives lookin’ to stick ‘em in our backs. And the box is gettin’ smaller by the day. Ain’t no more room for slip-ups, and we gotta be careful with how much risk we’re takin’.”

“Waitin’ ‘round doin’ nothin’ ain’t gonna get us outta the box either,” Kestrel countered. “Helpin’ these shiners with their business is the only way forward I see. We just gotta hope we can come up with a good plan that’ll get us through this mess without losin’ anypony.”

But Tumbleweed hesitated, earning a look from Kestrel. “Tin Cup knows somethin’. Either he does, or he don’t,” he said. “We can find out for sure, and we ain’t gotta go through this whole deal with the big group of shiners.”

This time it was Kestrel’s turn to frown. “Yeah?”

“We got you, me, Rough, Snapshot, Silvie, maybe even that robot we picked up,” Tumbleweed said. “That’s six ‘gainst five. And apart from Pinpoint, the rest of ‘em probably ain’t great fighters. I like those odds better than six ‘gainst twenty.”

“You sayin’ we should turn on ‘em? Go back on our word and beat what Tin Cup knows outta him?” Kestrel grimaced at the cold logic behind Tumbleweed’s suggestion. “We ain’t monsters, boss.”

“Our lives are becomin’ ever increasingly them or us,” Tumbleweed countered. He took a step toward Kestrel and poked his hoof into her chest. “If we can get outta here with crackin’ five skulls instead of twenty, I say we need to take it. And what if Tin Cup’s lyin’? He’s just usin’ us to take a shot at his rivals, and he don’t care one way or another if we live or die. He’d probably like it if we wiped each other out. He might tell Pinpoint to put bullets in our brains if we do survive just to make sure we don’t come to collect our debt, especially if he’s full of hot air.”

“And if he ain’t?” Kestrel asked, wary.

“Then we get what we need to know outta him, one leg at a time if we have to,” Tumbleweed said. “But if he’s lyin’ to us, then we don’t risk the Gang for nothin’. It’s a win-win, way I see it.” But he stopped and bit his lip. “I need to know that you’re with me, Kessie,” he told her. “I can’t let this stand to wedge the Gang apart. We need to think ‘bout what’s best for us, not anypony else. But I don’t want this to turn into a case of me and Rough on one side and you and Silvie on the other. We can’t get through this if we ain’t got each others’ backs.”

His eyes met Kestrel’s. “We have to put our family above everythin’ else. Nothin’ else matters. Wouldn’t you say so, Kessie?”

Agree with Tumbleweed. It’s us or them. Ain’t nothin’ personal ‘bout that.

Disagree with Tumbleweed. We honor our deals and we get outta this with our dignity intact. We ain’t common crooks.

Author's Note

It took a long time, but hopefully this pivotal decision is worth it.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 140

Disagree with Tumbleweed: 8 Votes

“Livin’ with ourselves when all this is done and over means somethin’,” Kestrel said. “Maybe it ain’t meanin’ so much to you no more, but I at least wanna get outta here with my dignity intact.”

“Only fools think dyin’ for somethin’s better than livin’ for somethin’,” Tumbleweed said with a frown and a shake of his head. “I’m livin’ for the Gang, not dyin’ for ‘em. I can’t do much to protect my family when I’m dead and gone, Kessie. And no matter what you think of yourself, the world’s only ever gonna see one thing when they read the name on your grave. They’re only gonna see a crook, a criminal, somepony who bucked the system and killed and stole her way ‘cross Equestria. Same as any of us.”

“I ain’t gonna care nothin’ what the world thinks of me when I’m gone. I’ll be dead. But at least when I go, I wanna go out knowin’ that I was true to myself and my heart. I ain’t gonna want to go out with regrets, wonderin’ if I coulda been a better mare.” Kestrel closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, her shoulders and wings rising some before she let it out. “The world set me on this life. My mama was a bitch and my dad a useless gambler. My brother died ‘cause nopony thought an urchin was worth carin’ for. I did the only thing I could do to survive. But never was I a bad mare, a murderer, a monster. And I ain’t gonna let the world break me down just to cling to its misery a little longer.”

She turned around with an annoyed flick of her tail and spread her wings. “I’ll go on ahead and let everypony know what’s the plan. See you back at camp.” Then she took off without waiting for a response.

It didn’t take her long to get above the trees and leave Tumbleweed behind, though once she did, she growled at herself and shook her head. She knew she shouldn’t have left the Gang’s leader behind in the bayou, but she needed to get some space from the stallion where she could be alone with her thoughts. There were many things she needed to think about, and she wanted the space to sort them out herself.

Her first thoughts settled not on the most pressing concern, but the one that worried her the most. She felt it had been no secret to anypony who took the time to look around their camp that the Gang was beginning to fray. The deaths of Wanderer and Trixie had shaken the Gang to its core, shattered any illusions of invincibility the survivors may have had in their heads, and reminded them that they were all only one mistake away from death. Tumbleweed’s concerns he shared with her both to and from the moonshiners’ hideaway made that much painfully clear. Suspicion was setting in among the group members, or at the very least, between Tumblewee and the ponies he had to care for. Kestrel wanted to write it all off as just the stress of the situation getting to the group’s leader, and she was certain that it was, but the very idea that Tumbleweed felt the need to second-guess his family worried her. If they couldn’t trust each other, couldn’t look out for each other, how could they hope to get out of New Oatleans alive?

And that left Kestrel in the terrible situation of asking herself a simple question with far too much weight attached to it: what was she going to do about it? She was the Gang’s number two, after all, and after Tumbleweed, ponies looked up to her to make the right decisions to lead them to safety. And over the past few weeks, she’d made plenty of decisions, ones that benefitted the Gang at large, and those that had set them back far more than she cared to admit. If the Gang was beginning to fray, then she needed to do what she could to keep it together. But sharing Tumbleweed’s concerns with the group, or even with one or two ponies, could have the opposite effect, only amplifying mistrust between the Gang members and setting them down the road to ruin.

She needed to have a talk with somepony she trusted. Just as Tumbleweed confided in her, Kestrel needed to confide in somepony else. And out of everypony in the Gang, out of everypony she’d spent her life traveling with, there was really only one mare that Kestrel felt she could trust with anything.

Flapping her wings a few times to cancel out the pull of gravity right before her hooves touched the ground, Kestrel alighted back in the camp a few minutes later. She figured she probably had at least half an hour before Tumbleweed managed to make his way back on hoof; plenty of time to have a private conversation with Silvie and air her concerns before once again picking up the mantle of the Gang’s loyal number two. So instead of making her way to the large building the Gang had been using as its communal space, Kestrel went straight to the hut Silver had chosen when they moved in, hoping to find the mare inside recovering from her cold.

Luckily enough, when she knocked on the door and stuck her head inside, she found the silver pegasus sitting against the wall, her blanket thrown over her shoulders and wings to keep her warm. “Kessie?” Silver asked, her voice somewhat stuffy from the congestion plaguing her sinuses. “You’re back! How’d it go?”

“Good enough,” Kestrel said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “The shiners claim they know somethin’, so that’s the good news. Bad news is they want us to go and do somethin’ for ‘em first ‘fore they tell us. It ain’t gonna be easy, and Tumbleweed ain’t even sure that they know somethin’ or if they’re just tryin’ to use us. But it’s a chance we gotta take, I think.”

Silver looked down the length of her muzzle and frowned, lips pursed in thought. “How many more chances you think we got left in us, Kessie?” the young mare asked her. “How many you think we can take ‘fore we’re outta ‘em?”

The question made Kestrel pause, and after trying for a moment, she realized she didn’t have an answer to it. “I dunno,” she admitted. “All I know is time’s runnin’ out and we ain’t got better options. It’s what we gotta do if we’re gonna get outta this alive. But I just…” She hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue, but she was unable to shake them free.

Silver noticed, and she blinked. “Kessie?” the pegasus asked. “Somethin’ wrong?”

After a moment, Kestrel walked across the hut and sat down next to Silver, her wings sagging and feathers brushing against the floorboards. “I’m worried ‘bout us. Worried that the glue in the Gang ain’t as tight as it used to be. And I’m worried that it’s gonna come undone and we’re all gonna be killed.” She looked away, unable to bring herself to make eye contact with Silver as she admitted the fears that could make her worst nightmares come true. “Tumblweed’s on edge, and I’m worried it’s gonna make him do somethin’ stupid. He wanted to take the Gang and go beat what the shiners know outta ‘em instead of helpin’ ‘em out with their problems. I don’t know if I coulda done that, goin’ back on our word like that. But he’s gettin’ mighty convinced that we’re gonna have to take drastic measures to get outta New Oatleans alive.”

Silver leaned in a little closer. “What’re you sayin’ then, Kessie?”

“What I’m sayin’ is that I don’t know what I’m sayin’.” Kestrel sighed and buried her face in her feathers. “What I’m sayin’ is that… I dunno. If somethin’ happens in the Gang, I wanna make sure that I got friends. I got ponies with me. I need ponies I can count on. I ain’t lookin’ to be the only voice of reason if somethin’ gets outta hoof. I need to know if you’re with me, Silvie, ‘cause I feel like you’re the only pony I can really trust anymore.”

The admission took Silver by surprise, but after a moment, she swallowed hard and nodded her head. “I’m always with you, Kessie,” the younger pegasus said. “I know you’re always gonna do the right thing.”

“Good,” Kestrel said, lowering her wing. “Thanks,” she added a second later, and she let out a tired breath.

“It’s nothin’,” Silver said, stifling a cough with her own wing. “Just… We gotta stop things from getting’ worse, Kessie. I don’t want to be drawin’ sides. I just wanna get outta here as a family. Not as survivors.”

“Me too, Silvie,” Kestrel said. “Me too.”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 141

After having her little chat with Silver, Kestrel made her way through the rest of the camp and made sure the Gang was gathered together by the time Tumbleweed returned along the road. Though Tumbleweed seemed a bit ticked that Kestrel had flown off without him after their argument, he thankfully didn’t bring it up when everypony gathered in the main building. Instead, he simply sat everypony down around the long table inside, and even the metal mare Gizmo stood off to the side, though Kestrel couldn’t tell whether the automaton was actively listening or just wanted to be with its masters.

Once everypony was together, Tumbleweed summarized the meeting with the moonshiners to those who couldn’t come along. “Their boss, much as they got one, claims he knows somethin’ that could get us the money we need to leave this country behind,” he informed them. “But he’s only gonna tell us if we help him take out his rivals first.”

“Why bother with that?” Roughshod asked. “You said there was only five of ‘em, right? We can beat it outta five easier than we can outta twenty.”

“That was my sentiment, but there was some pushback,” Tumbleweed said, and his eyes briefly swept towards Kestrel before turning back toward Roughshod. “Least they’re willin’ to help us some. He said that unicorn of theirs was a good shot and she’d help out if need be. I ain’t so sure ‘bout that, but we’ll see.”

“If we ain’t killed first, you mean,” the big earth pony grumbled.

It was enough to force Kestrel to cut in for a moment. “We ain’t gone this far just to stoop to common’ murderin’,” she chastised Roughshod. Then she glanced at Tumbleweed for a moment. “As you said, boss, ‘We help ponies as need helpin’, save ponies as need savin’, and kill ponies as need killin’.’ Ain’t that right?”

“Things were easier when we weren’t thin as we are now,” Tumbleweed acknowledged. “When we got across the San Palomino, we had breathin’ room and a second chance. And we had Wanderer. We ain’t got none of that now. Nothin’ matters more than gettin’ outta here alive.”

“Gettin’ outta here as a family and with our dignity means somethin’,” Silver interrupted, her wingtip wiping at her runny nose as she suppressed a sniffle. “We ain’t bad ponies. Not inside. Don’t matter what they say ‘bout us, we know the truth. We can’t turn back on that now.”

“Kindness is a luxury,” Snapshot simply stated from the edge of the group. “One we can’t afford anymore.”

But it was ultimately Miss Irons who broke the stalemate, managing to find a voice as strong as her name and snap out of her lingering melancholy, if only for a little bit. “Wanderer wouldn’t want to see us turn into common scoundrels,” she said, looking them each in the eye in turn. “We’re better than that. He knew it. You all know it.”

Everypony sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing the weight of that statement. But even if it might not have killed the discussion, Gizmo’s helpful contribution a moment later put a definitive end to it. “Assault and battery is a serious crime. Why don’t we talk with each other and use our words to sort out our differences instead of resorting to violence?”

Roughshod groaned and shot the robot a glare. “I liked it better when tin cans didn’t know how to talk,” he grumbled.

That just made Silver giggle, restoring some levity to the air. “She’s got a point, you know. Maybe Gizmo can help us all become outstandin’ citizens.”

“Maybe the Pinks’ll let us off with community service if we show ‘em we’ve learned from the errors of our ways,” Kestrel said, relishing the moment to find something to lighten the mood and smile over, if only for a moment. But when that moment passed, she let it go with a shake of her head and turned her attention back to the task at hoof. “Anyway, we agreed to help out the shiners. They got us a map of this little ol’ fort that their rivals is operatin’ outta. Said it was twenty ponies or so, but if we do things right, we can cut down on their numbers advantage. We got three days to come up with a plan, scout things out and see what’s promisin’.”

Tumbleweed nodded in agreement. “We can’t afford to lose nopony if we’re really goin’ through with this. We only got five of us to take advantage of what we learn from the shiners when we get ‘em what they want. I ain’t gonna put Miss Irons in danger if I can afford it, and we don’t know what we got in the robot. Figurin’ things out ‘fore we make our move is gonna be extremely important.”

He then turned to Silver. “How you feelin’, Silvie? You about over your cold yet?”

“I hope so,” Silver said, once again sniffling. “It ain’t fun down in this humid heat. I’m hopin’ I’ll be over it tomorrow.”

“Hopefully,” Tumbleweed agreed. “I need you flyin’ with Kestrel, givin’ her backup. I ain’t lookin’ to send her off alone in case she needs it.”

“If it comes down to it, I can handle myself,” Kestrel said. “Gettin’ Silvie well rested for the hit three days from now’s more important.”

“We’ll make a decision tomorrow mornin’,” Tumbleweed said. “Give her the night to sleep it off.” When both mares nodded in agreement, he sighed and stood up. “Before we break, Gang, I just wanna say one thing. Now, more than ever, we gotta be lookin’ out for our own. Everythin’ we do, we gotta be doin’ to make sure that we’re gettin’ outta New Oatleans in one piece. If we ain’t got each other’s backs, then we ain’t gonna get anywhere. Keep that in mind. And if you hear somethin’ or got any concerns ‘bout somethin’, make sure to bring it up with me. We gotta address ‘em quick ‘fore they become a problem.”

As he said that, he looked at each member of the Gang in turn. But it didn’t escape Kestrel’s notice that his eyes lingered on Snapshot a second longer than the rest… and on her as well.

As everypony nodded, Roughshod slapped a hoof down on the table. “Screw all this doomy gloomy nonsense,” he said, though it was colored more like an annoyed grumble spoken a little too loudly. “I need some cards and some beer. Get dinner cookin’, and let’s relax some. Everypony been too damn tense since Hoofston and it’s gettin’ on my nerves.”

“Might as well,” Tumbleweed agreed. “Help Miss Irons out with whatever needs done for dinner, and we’ll get a fire goin’ and enjoy the night best we can. We don’t take care of ourselves, we ain’t gonna be ready for nothin’ these next few days.”

The Gang voiced its general agreement, and then ponies began to move around and get to work—save for Kestrel. She lingered at the table for a little bit and thought to herself. Despite his words, or maybe because of them, Kestrel found herself worrying about the rest of the members in the Gang along the same lines as the concerns she voiced to Silvie not all that earlier. If it came down to it, would their family start picking sides? And if they did, whose side would they all choose?

She wondered whether or not those concerns were worth voicing with anypony else in the Gang, or if she should just let it slide for now.

Voice concerns with Roughshod. He’s big and tough, and bawdy and brash as he is, he’s the closest thing the Gang’s got to a fire inside. Maybe I should check in on him.

Voice concerns with Snapshot. He’s the opposite of Rough, but he’s our best and most reliable shot. Maybe I should check in on him, especially after what Tumbleweed confided to me.

Voice concerns with Miss Irons. She holds the Gang together at camp, but she ain’t been herself lately with Wanderer gone. Maybe a talk would do her some good and she can help sort things out amongst all of us.

Drop it for now. Ain’t worth gettin’ more ponies riled up and worried like I did with Silvie. Moment I start askin’ ponies what side of the line they gonna fall on means I’ve already started drawin’ the line. Can’t have that if we’re gonna get outta this alive.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 142

Voice concerns with Miss Irons: 11 Votes

As the Gang set about gathering up what they needed to make dinner, Kestrel got up and made her way over to the prep station where Miss Irons had started washing vegetables for the stew. Kestrel picked up a knife and joined her, and as the older unicorn washed and dried the vegetables in her magic, Kestrel went to work cutting them up into smaller chunks to toss in the pot. It was simple work, and though it left ample room for idle conversation, both mares were largely muted as they worked.

For Kestrel, though, it was less by choice and more by necessity. She had decided that she wanted to discuss the Gang’s situation with its heart and soul, but so long as other ponies of the Gang were in the building and moving around, she didn’t feel comfortable voicing her concerns. It wasn’t until the two mares had filled the kettle with all the ingredients and set it over a fire to cook did Kestrel finally find an opportunity to steal a few words with the elderly mare when everypony else went outside to sit around the campfire in another humid bayou night.

“Am I the only one who’s gettin’ a little worried ‘bout our family?” Kestrel asked, abruptly stopping Miss Irons with the sudden question before the unicorn could go outside and join everypony else. When Miss Irons turned to face her with a puzzled look, Kestrel sighed and shook her head. “You heard ‘em earlier. Tumbleweed and Rough and Snapshot was lookin’ to go and beat what they wanna hear outta some ponies who ain’t done nothin’ wrong by us. You said it yourself; Wanderer wouldn’t want to see us turn to that sorta ways of doin’ business.”

Miss Irons stood in silence by the door for a few moments, but ultimately, she turned back to Kestrel and made her way closer to the younger mare. “He wouldn’t want to see us blaming each other for everything that’s happened so far. All the misfortune we’ve had. And we’re all guilty of it. Tumbleweed, me, you…” She sat down at the table and shook her head. “Ponies are scared, Kestrel. We don’t think clearly when we are.”

After a moment, Kestrel joined her at the table. “I guess,” she admitted, hunching over her place at the table and staring down at the grimy grain of the wood under her forehooves. “I’m scared we’re gonna lose more ponies. And even if we don’t, what if we lose ourselves along the way? There’s only one endin’ Tumbleweed’s bringin’ us to, and I ain’t likin’ it one bit. I just wanna keep the Gang together.”

“Is that why you’re bringing this up with ponies one by one?” Miss Irons asked her, a shrewd look in her eyes. When Kestrel didn’t immediately answer, the elderly unicorn quietly snorted and frowned. “You want to keep the Gang together, and to do that you’re sizing everypony else up, seeing which side they’re going to fall on: yours, or Tumbleweed’s. You keep asking around, and you’re going to make everypony pick a side, whether they realize it or not. Whether you realize it or not.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Kestrel asked her. “I already tried voicin’ my concerns to Tumbleweed. This is our gang, mine and his, and I been tryin’ to get things sorted out with him ‘fore I went ‘round bringin’ this up with anypony else. But it’s like beatin’ my head against a wall.” Even just talking about her arguments with Tumbleweed left Kestrel feeling frustrated, and she dug out a cigarette from within her duster and lit it to try and keep herself from getting too worked up. “Tumbleweed and I ain’t goin’ in the same direction no more. Only thing he’s focused on is gettin’ outta Equestria alive. He don’t care none ‘bout how he tries to do it. Feels like I’m the only pony concerned with makin’ sure we get out the right way.”

She immediately took a drag from her cigarette when she finished talking, and Miss Irons gave her a thoughtful look in silence for several seconds. “And what right way is there for a gang of criminals and outlaws?” she finally asked Kestrel.

“What do you mean?” Kestrel blinked. “I thought you was on my side.”

“I am. But what about Tumbleweed’s side?” Miss Irons laid her forehooves atop each other on the table and looked toward the door, where the faint murmur of conversation made its way through the rotting wood. “For all our honor, Kestrel, we’re criminals. We’re wanted outlaws. And the Law will happily shoot us dead if we won’t go quietly. It doesn’t matter what we do or how we try to carry ourselves; it won’t make a difference to them. Our past sins have made us irredeemable. We’re making the game harder for ourselves, if only to sleep easier at night when we get out of this country. If we get out of this country.”

“It ain’t like I’m sleepin’ no better already,” Kestrel said. She sighed and let her wings droop. “I just want it to be all over,” she murmured. “The fightin’, the killin’, the runnin’. Things was good for a time. Things was excitin’. We were free in a way few ponies in this big ol’ country can even imagine. And then somewhere along the line, the game changed. Now we got junk in our hoof, and the Law upped the ante. All in. And we ain’t got enough chips to stay at the table if we lose.”

Miss Irons nodded, following the metaphor. “That’s where we’re at then. We’ve already been dealt our hoof; we can’t cash out until it’s played out. Do we fold or do we play our hoof?”

“We can’t fold,” Kestrel said. “We can’t leave New Oatleans empty-hoofed. We have to get somethin’. We fold now, we ain’t ever gonna win the pot. We won’t have enough chips left to bet. We have to go all in and pray that we get somethin’ from the dealer.”

At that, the iron unicorn hummed and stood up, her chair sliding against the dirty wood floor. “Then I suppose there’s only one way to look at it,” she said to the gunslinger. “When we finally play that final hoof, are we going to be happy we played the game fair? Or are we going to be kicking ourselves because we had a chance to play an ace from our sleeve and didn’t take it?”

Kestrel shook her head. “Cheatin’ at cards ain’t the same as becomin’ common thugs.”

“You’re the one who chose the metaphor, Kestrel; I just did my best to fit Tumbleweed’s point of view into it.” Miss Irons offered her a curt nod. “I think you’re doing the right thing. I agree with you on that. Beating and murdering innocent ponies isn’t our way. I’m only wondering whether the ace hidden up our sleeve is the only way to win the pot. But we won’t know that until the last card is played.”

She turned around and made her way to the door, opening and closing it as she joined the rest of the Gang outside. That left Kestrel to sit alone inside, her cigarette slowly smoldering between two feathers. The pegasus sat there for several minutes, almost as still as a statue, the roll of tobacco burning away until it was but ash that she finally squashed against the table.

Try to enjoy the night with the rest of the Gang

Focus on the scouting mission tomorrow.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 143

Try to enjoy the night with the rest of the Gang: 9 Votes

Kestrel emerged from the doorway to the kitchen, the smell of the cooking stew behind her replaced with the smell of burning logs and tobacco smoke as the Gang arranged themselves around the campfire in the middle of the abandoned settlement. Nopony said anything, each pony’s eyes drawn toward the flickering flame settled between them all, and occasionally taking a sip of whiskey or a puff of tobacco as the sun went down and the nighttime insects gradually came out to sing. Kestrel considered going off to the side or down to the river to stew in her own thoughts, but ultimately decided against it. If the rest of the Gang’s days were about to dwindle into dark nights like this one, she at least wanted to have one last fond memory of everypony she’d called her family over the years to dwell on as her candle was snuffed out.

So instead, the gunslinger grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pulled a cigarette from her pocket, and lit it with a match struck off of her shoe. With nicotine and alcohol held in her feathers, the mare made her way over to the fire and sat down on an unoccupied spot of dry ground next to Silver. The younger pegasus gave her a look and a small smile, and Kestrel offered her her bottle of whiskey to take a sip from. Silver graciously took it, took a sip, grimaced at the strong liquor for a moment, then passed it back—though not before an almost smothered cough managed to squeeze out of her throat.

That little harmless noise seemed to break the spell of silence over the camp, and Roughshod snorted in amusement. “What’s a matter, Silvie? I thought you was developin’ a taste for hard liquor lately.”

“My nose is stuffed and my throat is raw,” Silver protested, frowning at the earth pony. “Makes the burn all the worse!”

“I ain’t never seen a cold that likes strong whiskey,” Kestrel said. “That’s just it fightin’ back as you drown it away.”

“If it could drown a little quicker I’d ‘preciate that a whole bunch.” Then Silver stuck her tongue out at Roughshod. “Sides, how’d you like it if you caught what I got?”

Roughshod guffawed. “I don’t get sick,” he retorted. “Got that good earth pony resiliency. You pegasi, on the other hoof, you’re all soft and light. And fluffy. It ain’t no surprise that you got it bad, specially down here in the bayou.”

“It ain’t been pleasant,” Kestrel admitted. She’d been sweating far more than she would have liked too since they made it down to New Oatleans, even during the nighttime. “Pegasi are built for the cold sky. Not here. You wave a towel around for a few minutes, I bet you could wring a glass of water outta it. It’s like breathin’ in warm soup all day.”

Snapshot leaned forward to contribute a rare word to the conversation. “Hopefully you don’t take us somewhere cold when we’re out of Equestria,” he said, and his face picked up the faintest curves of a disgusted frown. “Always hated winter. At least that was one of the good things about fighting the griffons. The Confederacy is warm and dry.”

“I always thought we was gonna go someplace tropical,” Silver said. “Someplace with white beaches and fluffy white clouds in a deep blue sky.”

Miss Irons shook her head. “Now you’re thinking like a tourist, sweetie.”

“Ain’t that what we’re gonna be when we’re outta Equestria?” Kestrel asked. She took a sip of whiskey and cleared her throat. “We gonna be someplace far away, ain’t never gonna see Equestria again. Might as well live someplace beautiful. Make what time we got left worth it. After all, there ain’t gonna be no more scores, no more robberies, no more killin’…”

Tumbleweed, who had been quiet up until this point, grunted and leaned forward, blowing a cloud of cigar smoke out from between his lips. “A new life,” he said. “And one most of us ain’t ever had the good fortune of livin’ for ourselves. Can y’all imagine that? Imagine that. Kessie’s right; we ain’t gonna need to carry our guns round no more. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout hidin’ our faces or our names. It’s all gonna be so… plain. Plain and simple.”

The Gang nodded along and, one by one, their eyes returned to the fire, as if they could see their future in the shifting orange and yellow of the flames. Kestrel wasn’t sure what the flames were showing her; were those the golden rays of a cheerful summer sun, or the burning fires of a sinking ship? Did she have a future at all? Or were those just her ashes, scattered in an unmarked grave someplace where ponies would never find them?

“When I’m out of Equestria, I wanna be a fishermare,” Silver said, her eyes pulling up from the fire and momentarily drifting across the group. “I wanna have a boat that I can go sail off the coast of our island. And I’ll read books and drink under the tropical sun, and then for dinner everynight, I’ll have whatever I caught that day. Fresher than any market anywhere in Equestria.”

Miss Irons made a face at that. “You pegasi and fish,” she remarked. “You’re almost griffons at that point.”

“It’s good in protein!” Silver protested. “We need that when we spend so much time flyin’ around!”

Roughshod, meanwhile, only laughed. “You, a fisherpony? We gonna be outta Equestria livin’ free, and you wanna be a simple fishermare?”

Silver frowned back at him. “Oh yeah? What about you? What’re you gonna do when we’re outta Equestria?”

“Drink myself to death, probably,” Roughshod said with a snort. “I’m gonna find some tiki cabana and spend the rest of my days there. I’ll drink coconut rum and have as many of the mares that’ll have me, and I’ll drink and rut til my heart don’t beat no more.”

Silver stuck her tongue out and made a gagging noise, but Kestrel snickered and covered her muzzle with a wing. “You’re gonna be outta bits in a month for what it’ll take to get a mare in bed with you. You’ll be back at a life of crime in no time.”

“Ah, it ain’t so bad. Worst comes to worst, I’ll get some of my old pals from the army, and we’ll get ourselves killed bein’ mercenaries in the Confederacy.” Roughshod took a deep swig of beer and belched loudly, only adding, “Damn catbirds always need somecreature to do their fightin’ for ‘em. Seen it enough in the army to know that they ain’t professional like we was.”

The topic Silvie had steered them toward seemed to be a popular one, as next Miss Irons chimed in. “I’ve lived a long and storied life,” she said. “A difficult one, to be sure. I don’t know how much longer I’ve got left, but so long as I can kick my hooves up and let somepony else do all the cooking and cleaning, then I’ll die a happy mare.”

“I’m going to sail around the world,” Snapshot announced, earning raised eyebrows from everypony present. “I saw one country across an ocean while I was in the army. I couldn’t enjoy it much on account of the war and the killing. I’d like to see it again with less bloodshed. And maybe others, too.”

Tumbleweed was quiet as eyes turned toward him. The end of his cigar glowed orange in the twilight darkness, and he held the smoke in his mouth as he thought. “I don’t rightly know,” he admitted. “But I always enjoyed talkin’ with folks, even if usually it’s to trick ‘em into gettin’ us what we want. Maybe I can start some kinda hospitality industry on whatever corner of the globe we end up at. Get gawkin’ tourists to go and surrender some bits by spinnin’ ‘em a tale, rather than threatenin’ ‘em at the end of a gun.”

“Least you’d be good at it,” Silver remarked.

“Oh, I know.”

The Gang chuckled lightly, a sentiment that was only redoubled when Gizmo helpfully chimed in from the edge of the circle. “As a machine, I have no ambitions,” she stated in her tinny voice. “In case anypony was about to ask. I am built to serve.”

“You might as well take the robot along with you, Boss,” Kestrel chided. “She’d make a great attraction to gawk at.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tumbleweed said, earning a few more snickers from the Gang. “She can make drinks for the guests.”

Then Kestrel realized that she was the last one to speak, and she only shrugged. “I ain’t put much thought into it,” she said. “Been puttin’ too much thought on even gettin’ to that point to think ‘bout what I’d do if I ever got there.”

“Oh, come on, Kessie!” Silver prodded. “You gotta have somethin’ you always enjoyed doin’.”

“’Sides drinkin’, of course,” Roughshod said with a smirk. “Though if you want you can join me. Try to keep up.”

The challenge got a few chuckles out of the Gang, but Kestrel finally settled on an answer. “Maybe I’ll try my hoof at becomin’ an artist or somethin’,” the gunslinger said. “I enjoy sketchin’ from time to time. Guess I’ll have plenty of time to dedicate to gettin’ better once we’re outta here for good.”

“That’s the spirit!” Silver exclaimed, and she flitted open her left wing to bat against Kestrel’s right. “I bet you’d make a great artist, Kessie. You always got the patience for that sorta thing.”

“Well I dunno ‘bout that,” Kestrel said with a roll of her eyes and a drag of her cigarette. She let the smoke out through her nose and chuckled. “But I guess when we’re home free I ain’t gotta worry ‘bout gettin’ somewhere fast as I can no more.”

“It’d be ‘bout as good as it gets,” Tumbleweed agreed. “But for now, we gotta work hard to get there, everypony. It ain’t gonna happen if we don’t make it happen. So tonight, let’s forget ‘bout all our worries, and look toward the future. It’ll be the last chance we get for a while.”

“Now that’s somethin’ I can agree to!” Roughshod cheered, raising his bottle, and the rest of the Gang did the same. “Now, you think that stew’s done yet? I could really use somethin’ to eat to go with this beer!”

His words were met with a chorus of agreements, and soon Miss Irons and Gizmo departed to go get bowls for everypony. Tumbleweed pulled out his cards, Silver surprised everypony by digging out Wanderer’s guitar and striking a few chords on it, and for the first time in Kestrel didn’t know how long, she smiled and relaxed, just taking it all in.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

One last night of peace, one last hurrah for the Gang. Let's see if Lady Luck is willing to give our Gang the retirements they're dreaming about.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 144

Kestrel didn’t know when exactly she’d passed out, though whenever it was, it had come both much too soon and much too late. Having what felt like one last good night with the Gang, one last lighthearted celebration in spite of everything that faced them, had been good for everypony’s nerves. And as much as Kestrel hadn’t wanted it to end, when she woke up the following morning, she was already deeply regretting staying up so late and drinking so much last night.

Oh well. Nothing coffee and a smoke couldn’t fix.

Kestrel is now Tired, suffering a -1 penalty to Athletic checks until finding time to rest.

Kestrel set about the latter after a moment to stretch and work out some of the stifness in her back and wings from sleeping awkwardly on her bedroll, then made her way to the center of camp to see about the former. Sure enough, she could smell freshly brewing coffee as she shouldered her way into the main building, and she saw Miss Irons hard at work preparing breakfast and coffee for everypony. It was exactly what Kestrel needed to start her day off right, considering the long day that awaited her.

“Mornin’,” she managed to Miss Irons, even touching the brim of her hat, despite her exhaustion from last night’s good times. She slid out a chair and sat down, grunting as she did so, and she pressed her hooves into her eyes to try and massage out some of the short-on-sleep achiness.

“Morning, Kestrel,” Miss Irons answered in kind, and after a few moments, brought over a mug of coffee and some scrambled eggs for the gunslinger. “Eat up. You’ll need energy for the flight, especially after last night.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Kestrel grumbled, and she gratefully took the offered breakfast. “A nap’s in order when I get back, and maybe an early bedtime as well.”

“Tumbleweed will want to talk your ear off before you do,” Miss Irons said, and she went back to the stove to continue working on breakfast for anypony else who wandered in. “Either that, or maybe you send Miss Silvie to do it for you.”

“If she’s feelin’ better,” Kestrel said with a shrug. “She was doin’ her best to try and stay up late with the rest of us. Cigarette smoke and drinkin’ and yowlin’ probably weren’t the best for her. Might be on my lonesome today if she ain’t feelin’ up to it.”

Miss Irons nodded in agreement. “If she is, make sure she puts something in her belly before she heads out. That filly needs to put some weight on her bones, especially after fighting off a cold.”

“Will do, ma’am.” Kestrel briefly touched the tip of her wing to her temple, then went back to her breakfast. At least putting some food in her belly helped to settle some of the uneasiness lingering from last night’s drinking and smoking. Even still, she only ate what she needed to curb her hunger and get her enough energy for the morning’s flight. The last thing she needed was all that food weighing her down if she needed to flee danger.

When she was finished with breakfast, she left the main building behind and stood outside in the morning light, already groaning inwardly when she felt the humid air start clinging to her face and feathers. The heat, the humidity, and the mosquitos had become an uncomfortably familiar nuisance in the Gang’s brief time staying down in the bayou, and Kestrel was looking forward to leaving it behind and going someplace nicer. Sure, the tropics might also be hot, humid, and home to biting flies and mosquitos, but sandy beaches and the blue ocean would make up for it. At least it wouldn’t have the rotting bayou stink that seemed to hang over the stagnant water like a pestilent fog.

Has Silver recovered from her illness? Critical No

That pestilent fog, figurative or not, didn’t seem to be helping Silvie as Kestrel made her way to the shack the younger mare had picked out for herself. Even from this far away, she could hear sickly coughing coming from the old structure. Kestrel could only pause outside the door, close her eyes, and sigh in sympathy for her fellow pegasus. Even though nopony would blame Silver from being unable to join her in scouting out the rival moonshiner group, she knew the silver pegasus would blame herself if Kestrel made her stay.

“Silvie?” Kestrel asked as she slowly opened the door and stuck her head inside. She saw the silver pegasus curled up under he blankets in the dim light slipping through the cracks in the ceiling, and at her name, Silver poked her head up and winced into the doorway with feverish eyes. “You doin’ alright, girl?”

It was a stupid question, Kestrel knew, though Silver tried to seize on it and shrug her way out of her blankets. “I-I’m fine,” she insisted even as a visible shiver ran down her spine from head to tail. “I’m just—” Her words were interrupted by coughing, and after several seconds, she spit a wad of yellowish phleghm onto the floor and rubbed at her nose with the back of her wing. “Just a little cough…”

Kestrel shook her head and stepped inside the hut, shutting it behind her. “We shoulda let you get your rest earlier last night,” she said. “The last thing you needed was smokin’ and drinkin’ on lack of sleep.”

“I weren’t gonna miss that for nothin’!” Silver insisted, and Kestrel knew she was right. She hardly blamed the younger mare for that; the party was something they all had needed, despite the consequences. The silver mare tried to stand up, but Kestrel swiftly closed the distance between them and forced Silver back onto her haunches with a firm hoof. “I’m fine, Kessie, I’m f—!”

Coughing once more stole away Silver’s words, and Kestrel waited until the wheezy mare caught her gurgling breath as she struggled to get air into fluid-filled lungs. “You ain’t in no state to walk ‘cross camp, let alone go flyin’ out into danger with me,” Kestrel told her. “You sound worse than ever. I’m gonna get Miss Irons to look out for you, get you somethin’ warm to eat. Then we sit you down in front of the fire. We gotta keep your lungs warm and dry if you wanna stave off pneumonia.”

“I ain’t got pneumonia,” Silver insisted, though it was only a weak defiance.

“Then let’s keep it that way,” Kestrel said, giving Silvie a pat on the shoulder. “Go get some sleep best you can. And if you don’t behave, I’m gonna get that robot to make sure you don’t do nothin’ foolish.”

Silver sighed and hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, staring down at the floor.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about,” Kestrel reassured her. Then, backing up a step, Kestrel bowed her head and turned toward the door. “You just worry ‘bout gettin’ better. I’ll be back to check in on you when I’m home.”

“Stay safe, Kessie,” Silver said, slumping back to the ground in a shivering ball of defeat.

“I will.”

Kestrel took her time as she flew out over the bayou on her lonesome, both as a precaution and by necessity. The map Pinpoint had drawn for her didn’t help all that much when the only thing she could see from up above was an unending expanse of sickly green trees. Even the rivers and swamps were hard to pick out from above, as the dense foliage did its best to hide the ground from any intruders in the skies. But the last thing Kestrel needed was to blunder over the fort unprepared, and even if she wanted to move faster, she knew she couldn’t burn all her energy flying to the fort when she might need to flee if she got caught. She’d already almost swallowed a mosquito when she yawned mid-flight; it was that sort of morning.

As she drew closer to the fort (or at least, so she thought, going by the crude map), Kestrel stopped long enough to alight on a cloud and propel it toward her destination as a sort of inconspicuous aerial observation platform. Thankfully there wasn’t much wind in the sky at the moment, or a small cloud moving against the winds would easily be spotted by any pegasi on the ground or in the skies. With the air mostly still, slowly pushing a cloud to her intended destination would be much less noticeable from the ground. And having something to perch on would give her ample time to safely study the situation at the fort in detail.

All she needed to do was resist the extremely soft and comfortable plushiness of the cloud calling for her to lie down and take a nap…

Eventually, Kestrel saw what she believed was the fort through a break in the trees, and maneuvered her small cloud upwind so that the lazy air currents would let it drift naturally past the fort while she reconnoitered the ground below. Then, perching herself just back from the edge of the cloud so she could look down with only her face at the most being visible from the ground, Kestrel took a deep breath, tried to clear some of the hangover fog from her mind with a rough shake of her head, and let her eyes take in the situation below her.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how defensible is the moonshiners’ fort? 1

As Kestrel observed the ruined and abandoned fort that the moonshiners had made their base of operations, she found herself agreeing with what Tin Cup had said: if the griffons had tried to invade Equestria through New Oatleans instead of Tailahassee, they wouldn’t have had any difficulty forcing their way up the Maressissippi. The fort had been built on a spur of dry land protruding into a swampy delta in the river, and maybe when it had been freshly built its stone walls and wooden palisades would have made for some kind of defensible position, but time and decay had not been kind to the old fort. The moist bayou air had long since rotted the palisades away into the mossy nubs, and the damage from an old gunpowder explosion had scattered the stones of the south-facing wall across the ground and into the swamp, leaving a massive hole easily approachable by small boat. The buildings within the compound had all mostly collapsed, and what was left standing of the walls wouldn’t provide any measure of protection against attacks from above. What defenses remained in the fort’s walls were a pair of rusty copper cannons turned bright green through time and corrosion, and only useful as a convenient place for a bird to make a nest.

How many ponies does Kestrel see in the camp presently? 3

As for the defenders of the camp, they were few and far between, at least as far as Kestrel could see from her perch. Three ponies sat around a small fire in the center of the camp, preparing breakfast for themselves and maybe some additional compatriots Kestrel couldn’t see from above. At the very least, she doubted that there were only three ponies inside of this fort; Tin Cup had alleged there’d be around twenty, and Kestrel genuinely doubted that he’d be that far off the mark. Still, she wondered if most of the moonshiners had better accommodations out of the fort and back in the city, and only ventured to their stills to ready deliveries and prepare the next batch. And if the leader of this gang of shiners was in league with New Oatleans’ mayor, then surely he would enjoy someplace better to stay at then a ruined fort in the middle of the bayou that couldn’t keep out a hungry alligator.

Are the stills easy to get to? Yes

It wasn’t too hard for Kestrel to spot the stills from up above, either. They had been placed in the center of the camp, probably on the driest bit of land the shiners could find that wasn’t a dangerously crumbling stone wall, and somepony had erected a tarp over them to keep the rain out and maybe obscure them from anypony flying by overhead. But the tarp was pulled back at the moment, and Kestrel had a clear view of the copper stills out in the open. There were eight in all, and large as well, certainly allowing for a sizable batch of brew to be distilled at once or in shifts. It definitely was far more than Tin Cup’s shiner gang had at their disposal, and given these shiners’ larger operation, it made sense as to how they could easily undercut the smaller shiners’ business.

As for the rest of the surroundings around the fort, Kestrel couldn’t get a clear look at them—the trees were too dense, and any roads leading up to the fort were too obscured from up above for her to plot them out. But the ruined wall and the lack of cover in the middle of the fort meant that an approach from the water into a close-ish engagement was a viable option if the Gang wanted to take apart the fort with force. Alternatively, the stills were out in the open, and possibly vulnerable to sabotage. Kestrel knew that the Gang still had many of Trixie’s fireworks tucked away, even if the magician herself was gone, and they might be able to make an improvised bomb out of them—assuming, of course, they didn’t blow themselves up in the process. But Kestrel did wonder how permanent sabotage would be. If these shiners had the funds lying around, and more importantly the connections, destroying their stills would only take them out of action temporarily. As it stood, she didn’t know whether that would be sufficient to satisfy Tin Cup or not.

Still, as her cloud finally drifted past the fort and safely off into the distance, Kestrel yawned and laid back on its soft, fluffy surface. For now, she needed a nap after a better-than-expected scouting mission. Maybe when she drifted back into camp she’d have a good idea of which approach to recommend to Tumbleweed and the rest of the Gang.

Attack the fort in force from the river. If we can catch these shiners off guard, then a well-coordinated attack will take them apart before they can leverage any advantage of numbers against us. And besides, killin’ ponies is more like to shut them down for good than takin’ out their stills.

Sabotage the stills with improvised explosives. A lone mare approach from the air under the cover of darkness could be all we need to drop some bombs in the stills and take ‘em out of action. Means it’ll probably be just me goin’ in and outta there by myself with Silvie outta commission, but supposin’ I don’t get caught, could be the safest option for the Gang.

Author's Note

You would not believe what kind of a month October and November have been for writing. But it's out now, and hopefully it being 2.5k words will make up somewhat for the fact it's only... 7 weeks late. Whoops.

December is likely going to be more of the same with the holidays and all, but I'm hoping to get more steady progress on this again in the new year. I'm determined to finish this story, as we're so close to the finish line it'd be a shame to abandon it now.

See you for the next update... whenever that is!

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 145

Attack the fort in force from the river: 6 Votes

After Kestrel spent some time to puzzle it over, she decided to pitch the more straightforward approach to Tumbleweed and the Gang when she returned to camp. After all, there was a lot that could go wrong with bombs, and even when Trixie was with them, their luck using explosives had been fairly hit or miss. Now the magician was gone and her expertise in fireworks had gone with her, and Kestrel worried somepony would only blow themselves up if they tried to jury rig something together using her leftover fireworks. Attacking the fort directly would likely, ironically, be the safer option out of the two.

Kestrel let her cloud drift away from the fort in the wind, plotting potential avenues of approach and sightlines for an assault on the crumbling bastion. If the Gang could secure a small flat-bottomed boat to approach along the water, they could land on the spur of rock and swampy ground and charge into the fort through its ruined wall, or creep into position and surprise any guards stationed inside. The opposite riverbank had some dry ground and rocks to position a sniper or two; Kestrel wondered if putting Snapshot there alongside Pinpoint would be the best place to position the two marksponies they had available for the assault. Maybe with some rope they could get into the trees and shoot down into the fort from above, leaving no place for any defenders to hide.

By the time Kestrel’s cloud had drifted a safe distance away from the fort and she took wing, the gunslinger was starting to believe that maybe things would work out alright in the end. Even with Silver likely to be out of commission for the attack on the fort due to her worsening sickness, the lackluster defenses and lax guard detail had her confident that the Gang could bust in, wreak havoc, and leave without any problem. She only hoped that she was right. The Gang couldn’t afford things to get any worse.

The first thing Kestrel did when she landed back in camp (barring a wide yawn and a few slow stretches of her tired wings) was make her way to the central building, following the sounds of gruff chatter making its way through the cracked open door. Pulling open the door with a tug on the handle, the gunslinger shuffled inside and made her way to the table in the middle, where Tumbleweed and Roughshod sat with their revolvers partially disassembled and a small vial of gun oil and some rags between them. Tumbleweed looked up as Kestrel approached and gave her a nod, then slid the revolver’s cylinder back onto its axle and gave it a little spin. “Back so soon? I take it the flight went well?”

“Better’n what I feared,” Kestrel said, dragging out a seat and joining the two stallions at the table. “Damn thing’s a rotten ruin. Walls tumblin’ down into the swamp and they ain’t in no hurry stickin’ ‘em back up. Ain’t nopony defendin’ the thing either, just a couple of lookouts when I flew over. Didn’t see hide nor hair of the twenty ponies Tin Cup said to expect.”

Roughshod scoffed and fit his hoof into the handle of his mug of coffee. “You musta missed somethin’ then, Kessie. Ain’t no way things work out that easy for us.”

“We been gettin’ spat in the face by Lady Luck too much for her to not catch us a break sometime soon,” Kestrel fired back. “Maybe this one’ll be it. If this one’s easy as it looks, we might get what Tin Cup knows and be on our way outta here before the end of the week.”

“I’m still thinkin’ we should just grab ‘em and beat it outta ‘em,” Roughshod grumbled, and he gave Tumbleweed a quick look out of the corner of his eye before he raised his mug to his lips. He took a big gulp and set it down with a grunt. “Least we know what we’re gettin’ into with that one.”

“I done give us our best heads up about our other option.” Kestrel turned to Tumbleweed, who seemed to be mulling that information over. “I’m thinkin’ we can go take that mare, Pinpoint, and stick her and Snapshot on the bank on the other side of the river from the fort. Maybe get ‘em up in the trees and have them shoot with our fancy scoped rifles from afar. The rest of us, we get in a little rowboat and row on up there under the cover of the night. Sneak into the camp, shoot everypony we see, and smash their stills and toss ‘em into the river.”

“And you said they ain’t gonna be able to put up much resistance?” Tumbleweed asked her. “We ain’t gotta worry ‘bout gettin’ stuck on the rocks and shot like fish in a barrel?”

“You can take a little boat right up to the rocks and hop into the fort,” Kestrel assured him. “Long as you don’t bump into no gators or slip on the rocks, we ain’t gonna have any problems gettin’ inside. From there, the stills are out in the open, and anypony who might be stayin’ there’s probably got a tent fixed up along one of the walls. The buildin’s were in such bad shape I don’t think nopony would want to sleep in there. Things looked ready to crumble at any second.”

Tumbleweed nodded, and after a moment, he turned his attention back to his revolver. “Sounds like it’ll work, then. Best shot we got anyway; least we got some good news from it.” After a moment, he added, “But we ain’t gonna have Silvie with us. No way that poor filly’s feelin’ up to things by then. She just needs to focus on gettin’ her rest.”

“That’s what I’m thinkin’,” Kestrel agreed. Then she quickly did the math in her head. “So that leaves you, me, Rough, and Snap for the job. Add Pinpoint when we swing by to pick her up, and that’s five. You think five’ll be enough?”

“You said there was only a couple when you was there,” Tumbleweed recalled. “We can handle three. We can handle more than that if it comes down to it; I doubt these shiners know much ‘bout shootin’ and fightin’, ‘specially if Tin Cup’s right and they got connections in New Oatleans that means they ain’t gotta worry bout no lawponies comin’ after ‘em. Let’s just hope that we don’t hit ‘em when they’s gonna be busy ‘round their hideout.”

“Hit ‘em in the night, then,” Roughshod said. “Should be simple enough.”

“Yeah. We just gotta scrounge up a boat and get set.” Kestrel drew her revolvers and dropped them on the table as well, figuring she might as well join the stallions in cleaning her guns. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find a boat ‘round here, I don’t think. I’ll fly out and find one tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see if Tin Cup and his crew got one. Gotta fly out there anyway to let ‘em know of our plan.”

“We should have the finer points of our plan down pat then,” Tumbleweed said. “Way I see it, least from what you described, is we can either concentrate our firepower or spread it out a little. Either we put Snapshot and Pinpoint together and stick you with me and Rough, or we spread the two of ‘em out and get you up in the air to pick off any stragglers. You saw the fort the best; depends on what you think would be the best way to go about it.”

Concentrate our firepower. Best bet we have is if we come across a target, we all take a shot at bringin’ ‘em down. Might mean we have fewer angles to handle any threats should they pop up, but if there ain’t gonna be a whole lotta ponies at the fort, might be the best way to go.

Disperse our firepower. More firin’ positions means more sightlines we can cover. It’ll expose Tumbleweed and Rough to a bit more danger if they meet stubborn resistance, but at least we can cover more angles if there’s more ponies than we’re anticipatin’.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 1

A brown mare stared into a tumbler of whiskey, and a brown mare stared back out of it.

The mare frowned as she swirled the glass held between her feathers, dashing her reflection away. She was more interested in the drink than contemplating her appearance. She already saw it enough as it was; there were always posters with her face on them back home. Though they could never seem to agree on if she was better off dead or alive…

But home was a long, long ways away. Almost another country, at this point. Down here, nopony knew her face, nor her name. And that was good. At least it meant the posters weren’t here. There was still a little bit of freedom left in San Palomino, even if the jaws of civilized society were slowly clamping down at it.

She scoffed, nostrils flaring for a moment. Civilized society. What an alien concept. Weren’t nothing civilized about society, that was for damn sure.

The glass touched her dusty lips, and a river of liquid fire poured down her throat. She closed her eyes and grimaced as the heat settled in her stomach, then pushed the glass aside. A few bits rattled onto the bar, and the bartender happily took them as the mare stood up to leave. He waved at her in appreciation for her business, and she touched the brim of her black gambler hat in return, dirty horseshoes already thumping across the floor as she moved to the exit.

A few faces turned in her direction out of curiosity, but she ignored them, only muttering a “pardon me” when she nearly bumped into a stallion slipping out of his seat, cider in hoof. He turned to spit something back at her, but the ruffle of one of the mare’s spotted gray wings just so happened to pull back on her duster and reveal a bit of gleaming iron at her side. Instead, after a startled blink, the stallion muttered something to himself and returned to his drink.

The mare pushed the saloon doors open with her wings and squinted as she stepped out into the midday light. Whoever was the idiot that decided on naming the town Rock Ridge deserved to be hanged or shot—or maybe both. As far as the mare could see, there wasn’t much in the name of rocks around the little two street town, and the nearest thing she could call a ridge was nearly five miles away. But the ponies of the southwest were common folk, and expecting a little clever ingenuity out of them was like expecting a fish to learn how to fly.

She looked left down the main road of Rock Ridge. A few wooden buildings had been hastily erected down the dusty dirt road, making up everything a little town in the middle of nowhere could need: a general store, a blacksmith, a doctor, a gunsmith, and a saloon. At the end of the road, the sheriff’s office stood in proud, faded, Equestrian Blue paint. Somepony must have known the governor of San Palomino, because the sheriff’s office was big enough to lock up the whole town if need be—overkill at its finest. Not only that, but they had a gallows that could hang three ponies at once. She idly wondered how often they’d even been used, and if one day she might have the honor of getting her neck broken there.

She turned her attention to the right. A few residential buildings and a hotel made up the right end of the town’s main street, and beyond them was a post office and a train station. That only further confirmed her belief that the town mayor had to be good friends with the governor, otherwise there was no reason anypony would build a railway to this dead end town. As she watched, however, an off-yellow unicorn emerged from the post office, magic tugging at the hooks of his suspenders. A pair of revolvers glistened at either shoulder, and he scanned left and right before his eyes settled on the mare and he began to trot over.

The pegasus made no effort to meet him halfway—she was comfortable as it was in the shade of the saloon’s porch and didn’t particularly feel like walking out into the sun for no good reason. Instead, she waited for the stallion to trot up to her before raising an eyebrow. “So? What’d ya dig up?”

“Well, it took a bit of pokin’ and proddin’, but I found what we’re after,” the unicorn said, relaxing a bit once he joined the mare in the shade. “There’s an armored wagon that passes through the crossroads a bit out south of us. It stops at all the little shitholes out here in our wild, untamed country to collect its dues before dumping the haul on a train and runnin’ it back to Manehattan. It's on its way to Rock Ridge today. Easy pickin’s, if you ask me.”

The mare shook her head. “Easy pickin’s ain’t gonna get us back on our hooves, Boss. ‘S probably only a few hundred in there.”

“Need I remind you, my dear Kessie, that we’re down here because we tried to rob a fancy hotel in Appleloosa, and that near brought the damn sky down ‘round our heads?” His features softened into a teasing smile. “Though I suppose, what with you bein’ a pegasus and all, that analogy’s a little lost on you.”

The mare scoffed and shook her head. “Naw, naw, I get what you’re sayin’, Tumbleweed. It’s just…” She sighed and shrugged. “I dunno. Felt like we was kings and queens not too long ago. Wanderer might just be right, the ol’ bastard. We ain’t never gonna see a haul like that train ever again.”

Tumbleweed put a hoof on her shoulder and leaned in. “We will, Kestrel,” he assured her. “And we'll be royalty once again. But reminiscing on the past ain't gonna help us none out here. So!” He lightly clapped her on the shoulder and held up a piece of paper in his magic. “I’ve got Roughshod scouting the crossroads, seeing where we can set up an ambush. Silvie and Snapshot’ll be there too. It’ll be through before we know it, so we don't have a lot of time to come up with the perfect robbery. But, given your knack for brilliant plans…”

Kestrel sighed and let her wings sag. “Ain’t never gonna let that poker tourney go, ain’tcha?”

The unicorn smirked back at her. “I figure I let you make a call here, prove you still got it. So, how do you wanna approach this?”

Hard and fast. We jump ‘em and start shootin’, ain’t no way a buncha lousy-paid guards gonna stick around for their boss’ haul when they got five ponies shootin’ at ‘em. It’ll be a piece of cake.

Use a distraction. We don’t have to shoot ‘em if they ain’t lookin’ at their cargo. Some of us joke about bein’ on Bridleway—I say let’s give ‘em a chance to prove it!

Let Tumbleweed come up with the plan. Boss ain’t never steered us wrong before. Sure, we get in some bad scrapes, but he always gets us out in the end. A wagon robbery should be easy as they come for a mind like his.

We should really wait until we have more information. I ain’t exactly fond of waitin’, but then again, I ain’t exactly fond of walkin’ into a firing line unprepared. Maybe it’s best if we wait until we know exactly what we’re dealin’ with.

Author's Note

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/17976853

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 9

Capture Her: 58%

Sienna trembled under Kestrel’s stare, her eyes squeezed shut and her lips wordlessly moving in a silent, pleading prayer. She was young and scared, and she definitely seemed far out of line with the hooded ponies that had attacked the wagon earlier. Kestrel had killed a lot of ponies in her life, but she never liked killing in cold blood. Especially not on a mare who was barely an adult.

Instead, she dug through her bags and pulled out a length of rope. “On your side,” she ordered Sienna, and when the trembling mare didn’t move, Kestrel stomped over and roughly pushed her to the ground. “I said, on your side!”

Sienna cried out in fear, and Kestrel immediately struck her nose. The mare whimpered, hooves rushing to her muzzle as her nose began to bleed, and a terrified eye looked up from the ground at Kestrel leaning over her. “Killin’ you ain’t gonna be worth it,” she said, offering the young mare an intimidating, predatory smile. “And we can’t just let you go. Even if we tie you up here, you’re a dirt pony. I wouldn’t trust these ropes to hold you for very long, and then you’d run off and let your gang know all about us. So what you’re gonna do is, you’re gonna lie there and be nice and quiet while my friend and I tie you up, and then you’re gonna keep your trap shut while we fly you back to our camp.”

She grabbed her knife out of its sheath and let the sun glint off of its razor sharp blade in front of Sienna’s face. “I want you to understand that the only reason we’re keepin’ you alive is that we don’t want you to scream. But if you feel like makin’ a noise, just the slightest bit of noise, then me and my friend here, well, we ain’t got any reason to keep you alive no more.” She leaned in and raised an eyebrow at Sienna. “You understand?”

Have Kestrel’s threats secured Sienna’s cooperation? No

Despite all that, the earth pony tried to writhe away, nearly throwing Silver off of herself. “No!” she shouted. “No! Please! You can’t!”

Kestrel bared her teeth and stomped over to Sienna, kicking her in the ribs. The young mare coughed and clutched at her chest, and soon the point of her knife was under the earth pony’s jaw. “That weren’t wise,” Kestrel growled at her, and then she glanced at Silver. “Silvie, make sure nopony’s comin’. If anypony heard that, we gotta deal with this mare and get goin’!”

“Got it,” Silvie said, quickly scurrying to the rocky edge overlooking the gulch. Kestrel turned her attention back to Sienna, who had begun to cry as she felt the knife digging into her throat. “All you had to do was keep your damn mouth shut,” Kestrel hissed at her.

Did Sienna’s shouting attract any attention? No

Eventually, Silvie came trotting back. “Looks all clear,” she said, eyes narrowing on Sienna. “You’re lucky.”

“Good,” Kestrel said. She took a length of rope out, cut it, and tossed it to Silvie. “Help me bind up her legs. I’ll carry her back to camp, you scout ahead and make sure we have a clear way outta here. Don’t wanna get caught by anymore sentries, ain’t that right, Sienna?”

Sienna could only close her eyes and whimper as the two pegasi tied her up.

Soon, Kestrel grunted and moved toward the rocky edge, Sienna securely tied and draped over her back, and Kestrel’s bandana covering her eyes. She’d given her weapons to Silvie to remove a little weight, and she was just thankful that Sienna was as scrawny as she was. Earth ponies were dense and muscular, but given how small and thin Sienna was, she barely weighed more than Kestrel herself. The young mare froze in terror as she heard Silver take wing and began to scout ahead, and she blindly whipped her head back and forth. “Y-You’re n-n-not gonna…!”

“Oh, we are,” Kestrel said with a smirk. “I know heights and all ain’t an earth pony’s best friend, so why don’t you stop squirmin’ and stay quiet so I can focus on not droppin’ you, eh?”

Then she took wing, and for once, Sienna stopped wriggling and finally fell deathly silent as she felt her stomach drop into her hooves.

Silver scouts ahead to find a clear path out of the gulch: Success

Thankfully, burdened as she was, it wasn’t too difficult to slip out of the gulch with Silvie to make sure that the path was clear. The silvery mare darted ahead, using the rocks for cover, and would scrutinize an area for a minute before waving the all clear to Kestrel and moving onto the next stretch of dry ground. Bit by bit, the two mares cleared Viper Gang territory, until finally, Kestrel could see the road up ahead, complete with the still bodies of the gang members they’d gunned down earlier.

Kestrel attempts to resist further exhaustion: Fail

Kestrel is now Exhausted, suffering a -2 penalty to athletic checks until resting for several hours

Silver flew back a bit to join Kestrel, her brow furrowing as she watched the brown and gray mare pant under Sienna’s weight. “Want me to take her for you?” she asked. “I know I ain’t as strong a flier, but you look like you’re ‘bout to keel over any second.”

Though Kestrel was reluctant to force that burden upon Sienna, she nevertheless relented; the camp was still a bit of a flight away, and she didn’t know if she could carry the earth pony that long and not accidentally drop her. “Alright,” she grunted, and she held out her trembling wings to glide to the ground. “She’s all yours.”

The two mares landed on the dusty road, and Sienna almost started weeping with joy. “We’re on the ground!” she squeaked. “Ground! Precious ground!”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Kestrel grunted as she helped transfer the mare to Silvie’s back. “We still got a long flight ahead. At least now, we don’t have to worry ‘bout being seen.”

Were the two mares spotted on their flight out of the gulch, despite Silver’s best efforts scouting ahead? No

“Looks like we’re still all clear,” Silvie said, squinting back in the direction they came from. She rolled her wings and shrugged her hindquarters as she tried to center Sienna’s weight, then patted the young mare on the shoulder. “C’mon, Sienna, I think it’s about time you got to meet the gang!”

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

There wasn't a good way to put a poll in this chapter without coming up with something contrived, so there is no decision here. Our heroes and their captive will return to the camp, and there will be a poll in chapter 10.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 12

A Train Conductor and a Rich Filly

Please see the Author’s Notes for more about the previous chapter’s poll.

“I did,” Kestrel admitted. She could see the faces in the flames now. They were almost as clear as if she was looking into a picture. “And not just once.”

Silver, originally bursting with enthusiasm, noted the somber tone in Kestrel’s voice and quieted down. Her wings slowly folded closed by her sides, and the grin plastered to her muzzle began to droop. Soon, all was quiet, save for the crackling of the logs in the fire.

“There was a train conductor, once,” she said, shaking her head. “His name was Highball. Tumbleweed and me met him way back when. I was just… I dunno. Maybe twenty at the time. But the two of us, we’d just robbed a gunsmith in Dodge Junction, and Dodge ain’t a big town. Sheriff and his colts were on us like white on rice. We managed to lose ‘em by getting’ aboard a train before it left station. Hidin’ in the shadows of a freight car, waiting for the Law to pass.”

She remembered that feeling of terror mixed with excitement. They could hear the hooves of the deputies pounding across the rail yard, tearing open car after car to look for them. She remembered the taste of her revolver’s handle in her mouth when the door opened and a shadow appeared across the floor, and she thought they were done for. And she remembered the quiet look the stallion who opened the door gave her and Tumbleweed, hiding in the corner, before he winked at them and closed the door.

“He found us hidin’ in the back there,” Kestrel said. “Yet he didn’t say nothin’ to the Law. Just started up the train and went on his way. We hid in that car until it stopped at the next station, and that’s when he came back to get us. Brought us food, water, gave us a place to lie low. I didn’t know why he done it. Still don’t, I reckon.”

Kestrel sighed and let happier memories come back to her. “We stayed in that area for a while, Tumbleweed and I. Got to know Highball real well. He was… he was always sweet on me. Maybe he didn’t say nothin’ to the Law because he thought I was beautiful. He certainly called me beautiful all the time. He was gonna propose, get me outta this life once and for all, after about a year of it.”

Silvie covered her muzzle in excitement and dread. “Did… did he?”

After several moments, Kestrel shook her head. “No,” she said. “His company got bought out by the Apple Family conglomerates. They reorganized the rail lines, wanted to send him north. He wanted me to go with, but I couldn’t. I was wanted. Law was hunting me down. If I went north, I woulda been walkin’ right into the jaws of the monster. Wouldn’t be long before they found me and took me down, and Highball with me.”

“He didn’t stay with you, then?” Silver asked, even though she knew the answer.

“He had three little brothers to look out for,” Kestrel said. “He needed the pay. And he weren’t about to bring them all into this outlaw life, ruin theirs for me. So that was the end of it. We met one last time, and he gave me the fetlock ring he was gonna give me when he proposed anyway. And then he was gone. I ain’t ever seen him since.”

Kestrel had to close her eyes as that long-since scarred-over pain clawed at her heartstrings again. She could have been a wife. She could have been a mother. But the world pulled them in two different directions, and love left her like a steam engine down the tracks.

Silver shuffled a little bit closer to Kestrel, sitting just close enough to barely touch the older mare’s back with her wingtip. “I’m… I’m sorry, Kestrel.”

“Don’t be,” Kestrel said with a rough grunt. “It’s in the past.”

Several seconds passed by before Silver spoke up again. “And… the other time?” Her voice was fragile and worried, filled with concern.

Kestrel squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. Those wounds weren’t so scarred over. “Her name was Faith. Faithful Heart.”

Silver seemed somewhat surprised to hear that Kestrel’s second love wasn’t also a stallion, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, Wanderer took over the story in the ensuing silence. “Sweet Faith was a regular around here for some time,” he said. “She was the daughter of an oil magnate, some fellow by the name of Black Gold. Nice as could be, and plenty pretty, though Miss Irons would have what’s left of my stallionhood if she heard me say that.”

“Her father didn’t like her spendin’ her time with wanted ponies,” Kestrel said. “He didn’t like me the least bit. Thought I was a terrible influence on her, thought I was gonna get her killed. Thought I was gonna ruin her life.” Her wings sagged and her head fell. “Can’t say he were wrong about all that.”

“What happened to her?” Silver asked in a quiet voice.

“Mister Gold made it pretty certain that he didn’t want to see any of us no more,” Kestrel said. “He’s an oil magnate, he’s rich as can be. He could buy the police force of Canterlot if he wanted. He made it pretty clear I was to never see Faith again, or else he’d get all us here arrested and hanged. And he… well, that was it.”

After several moments of silence, Kestrel dug into her duster and pulled out a heart-shaped golden locket. Its surface was scratched and tarnished from wear, but it opened easily at a twist of her feathers. It held only two things: a picture of Kestrel in her duster standing next to a dainty pegasus by the lake, and a single white feather. Kestrel felt her throat begin to seize up with emotion at the memories, so she hastily closed the locket and returned it to its pocket, her other wing wiping at her eyes.

“At this point I… I ain’t lookin’ to do it again,” Kestrel said. “I lost two ponies I loved ‘cause of this life. It ain’t fun and games, no cops and robbers like Faith thought. It’s tough. It’s hard. And at the end of the day, there ain’t no happiness for ponies like us.”

She quietly stood up and rubbed at her eyes some more. By this point, she could hardly keep them open. “I should get some sleep,” she muttered. “Tumbleweed’s gonna want to head down to Rock Ridge at first light, see what we can find. I need to think about where I’m gonna look anyway.”

Wanderer nodded and began to strum his guitar some more. “Take care, Kestrel. Sleep well.”

“I’m sorry if I brought back bad memories,” Silver said in a quiet voice.

Kestrel managed a tired smile and patted Silver on the shoulder. “They ain’t bad memories, Silvie,” she assured her. “They hurt ‘cause they was good.”

With one last goodnight to the pair of pegasi, Kestrel turned away from the fire and sought out the secluded shelter of her lean-to. She could do a little thinking about what she would do in Rock Ridge in the morning before sleep overtook her.

Go to the saloon. Everypony talks about somethin’ in the saloon. I’ll find somethin’ good there to bring back to Tumbleweed, and maybe take a few shots of whiskey while I’m at it.

Check out the sheriff’s office. Sometimes the sheriffs post good bounties for anypony to take. We’re far enough away from Appleloosa that nopony knows we’re wanted out here, and given the size of that place, they probably pay well for dangerous work like that.

Visit the post office. Lotsa news passes through the post daily. Somepony there has got to know somethin’ good, and maybe what they know’ll be better than that wagon we hit today.

Walk the streets. Sometimes the best way to find somethin’ interestin’ is to just listen for gossip in town. Rock Ridge ain’t big, but it ain’t small either. Who knows what I’ll find if I just walk and listen?

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

There were a lot of things that happened with last chapter's poll that I'd like to make clear here so you can understand why I went with two options instead of just one.

The issues began when I noted something that seemed like... odd behavior in the middle of the polling. Over the course of roughly five minutes, and maybe less because this happened between checks of the poll, eight votes were added to one option, elevating it from 3rd place to 1st with a barely insurmountable lead given the 30 votes needed I had put to the poll. While this isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, I found it very unlikely that everybody would abruptly feel like voting for the same option and making it win within a few minutes. I decided to be cautious and let more polling be done to see what the people wanted instead of calling the poll right there, just to be sure.

Things were further compounded where, in a few instances, I was asked by people to change their votes from one option to another. I originally was going to honor these requests, and mentally tallied the changes to the poll as the results came in, despite the fact that I should not be doing this. I have it stated in the usual A/N I copy-paste here that the only thing I will look at is the numbers on the poll, and here I was, breaking my own rule. It was also pointed out to me that, while I'm sure these people asking me to change their votes weren't doing so, people asking to change their votes could be doing so deceptively to take votes away from one option and put it toward another option. So obviously, this can not continue.

But all this combined together to have me awarding the Train Conductor with the victory in the poll, despite the fact that, were those revotes not counted, the Rich Girl would have won instead. I floated several options to try to decide what to do with this dilemma, including having Lady Luck voice in once, but ultimately decided the only way I could make this work without cheating the people in one of two camps was to let both options win. Therefore, I decided to put both the Train Conductor and the Rich Girl into this chapter.

Going forward, I will be making a few changes to the voting procedure.

The first change is that I will be adding numbers to the poll options that correspond with what is listed here. Hopefully this should clarify things for people and lessen the number of accidental votes.

Secondly, I will not, under any circumstances, allow people to change their votes. If you can't take the time to read your selection and make sure that it is what you want, then I will not help you out when you realize later that you voted for the wrong choice. It really isn't that hard, and there will be no excuse for getting things confused once I add numbers to clarify things.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I will not decide a vote until the following day, even if it hits the vote confidence required. From here on out, this number is a MINIMUM threshold that must be hit for the poll to be considered valid, and I will only check the final result when I wake up the following morning. Whatever option I see winning at that moment (assuming the threshold has been hit) will be the final result that I will write the next chapter for. If the threshold isn't hit when I wake up, I will call the polling closed whenever I see that it is.

Hopefully these changes will make the voting more robust in the future, and I apologize for the drama that has been happening in my discord today because of this poll. Thanks for your understanding.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18069781

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 30

Payroll and Weapons: 42%

“We ain’t got the time to empty the thing out,” Silver said. “And if this Rainbow Dash is as fast as Highball says she is, then we might barely have the time to grab the payroll and run. But we can’t leave those guns behind.”

Tumbleweed nodded and looked back at the armored car. “A Chatter gun could be a mighty fine addition to our camp,” he agreed. “So long as the ammunition lasts.”

“We’re raidin’ from the Army,” Roughshod said. “Ammunition to last ain’t gonna be too much of a problem.”

“Then let’s get to it,” Tumbleweed said. “The sooner we get the wagons loaded up and movin’, the better. Don’t want this officer to come back and catch us unawares.”

“I’ll stay with Kestrel,” Highball said, looking over his former love. “Make sure she doesn’t get any worse.”

Tumbleweed slowly nodded at that. “I hate to be robbin’ from you, Highball. You’re a good stallion. I hope we can still trust each other after all these years apart.”

“You can,” Highball said, his gaze meeting Tumbleweed’s and lingering there.

Roughshod spat into the dirt. “Ain’t nopony we can trust but each other,” he warned Tumbleweed. “I’d blow him away and be done with it.”

“You are gonna go start disassemblin’ those Chatter guns and gettin’ them out of the car,” Tumbleweed said, gesturing over his shoulder. “Get Snapshot to help when he arrives with the wagons. His magic will be useful. Silvie and I will take care of payroll.”

Though Roughshod scowled at Highball, he nevertheless backed off and began to move down the train cars to the imposing armored carriage in the middle. Tumbleweed waited until he was out of earshot before he raised an eyebrow at Highball. “Stay put, and no funny business. It’s been a while, friend, but it’s only our past keepin’ us on good terms right now. I hope you understand.”

Highball took a deep breath. “I do.”

“Good.” Tumbleweed turned around and began to walk away from the engine. “Come on, Silvie. Let’s take a look at what we got.”

Silver nodded and immediately began to follow, only sparing a last look at Kestrel and Highball before catching up to Tumbleweed. “The payroll car’s this one,” she said, leading him over to the second to last car on the train. Highball hopped up to the door from the ground, forcing it open with his magic, and stepped inside the covered car. Silver followed him in, and her eyes widened some at the crates lining the walls inside.

“The payroll’s probably in bags inside these crates,” Tumbleweed said, moving toward the first. “Let’s open ‘em up.”

It was sweaty, backbreaking work to go pull the crates off of their stacks and force them open with a knife, but every time Silver opened up a box, a few burlap sacks spilling gold would be ready to greet her and motivate her to move onto the next one. Even Tumbleweed was in good spirits, and he slowly began to chuckle and mutter “Well I’ll be,” over and over again as they tore the car apart. When they finally pried open all the crates and laid the sacks out in front of them, Silver could only stare in awe at what they’d accomplished.

How many bags of payroll are in the car? 34

“There’s so many bits,” Silver muttered softly to herself.

“The Army packs a thousand bits to a bag,” Tumbleweed said. “We’re looking at thirty-four thousand bits right here.”

“It’s like the Appleloosa train all over again,” Silver said.

“We got closer to fifty thousand on that take,” Tumbleweed said. He laughed and shook his head in disbelief and excitement. “Trains always do us good, Silvie! Maybe we should just stick to robbin’ them from now on!”

“You owe Kessie and me a bottle of the best whiskey money can buy—each!”

“With thirty-four thousand bits, that ain’t gonna be too hard to manage,” Tumbleweed said. Still, he grabbed Silver with his magic and gave her an excited embrace. “You two mares might just have saved our hides with this score! We get this back to camp, we can live like royalty again!”

“Let’s just hope this time we don’t get the Pinks on us to ruin all the fun,” Silver said, her excitement deflating somewhat as she realized just how eerily familiar the situation that they now found themselves in was. “We didn’t have all that long after the Appleloosa train before we had to run again.”

“That was because of that hotel,” Tumbleweed said. “We ain’t gonna make the same mistake again.” He grabbed two bags of bits in his magic and moved for the door. “C’mon, Silvie. Grab some bags and let’s get goin’! We ain’t got all day!”

Silver hurriedly snatched a bag in her teeth and slung it over her shoulders, balancing it between outstretched wings, and picked up another one in her mouth before following Tumbleweed outside. Snapshot had arrived with the wagon by then, standing in the back while Trixie and Sienna panted in the hot desert sun under their harnesses. His magic lifted a Chatter gun Roughshod had pried out of the armored car and placed it in the back, while Tumbleweed dropped the first two bags into the flat back. Silver tossed hers in as well, and Trixie only groaned as the Gang began to pile the wagon full of their loot.

“When Trixie learned she was joining a band of outlaws and renegades, she did not expect to be used as a pack mule,” she muttered, glaring sideways at Silver as she dropped her bags into the wagon as well.

Silver scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t screw up the dynamite,” she retorted. “Kessie and me had to get this thing the hard way, and she almost died because of you.”

“Trixie has never used her fireworks to derail a train before!” Trixie protested. “You can hardly blame her for this!”

“Yeah. ‘Hardly.’ Sure.” Silver turned around and went back to the payroll car to grab another two bags. “Better learn fast. Don’t want you draggin’ us down, Hoofdini. Pinks find us, you gonna lose your head ‘long with the rest of us.”

Though Trixie fumed at the retort, she kept her mouth shut, and didn’t open it again while the rest of the wagon was loaded up. Soon, the Gang had piled together everything they felt comfortable taking from the train: the payroll, a Chatter gun and four hundred rounds of ammunition for it, along with the scoped rifles Silver had discovered when she first started searching the train for medicine. Lastly, Tumbleweed gingerly placed Kestrel in the back of the wagon, and though the injured mare stirred, she did not wake up.

That just left the matter of what to do with the train and its driver.

Highball watched the Gang strip away the loot he was entrusted to deliver to Rock Ridge without saying a word, but the silence would never last. When they finally loaded the wagon, he cleared his throat. “What will you do now, Tumbleweed?”

Tumbleweed worked his jaw from side to side, his unwavering gaze fixated on Highball and the engine behind him. “Now, I will take my ponies back to our camp,” he told him. “We’ll count out our bits and plot our next move from there. I apologize, but I’m not willing to divulge our plans with somepony the Law will want to talk to today.”

“I see.” Highball’s eyes wandered to the Gang’s guns. “Am I good to go, then?”

Silver looked to Tumbleweed, wondering just how the stallion would pay back his old friend and new liability.

Let him run off. It’s too dangerous to bring him back with us, and he might stand a better chance when the Law gets ahold of him if he makes it to Rock Ridge on hoof. He can say he ran off when we attacked the train, not that he worked with us for his life.

Send him back with the train. He’ll get to Rock Ridge in one piece, that’s for sure, but he’s gonna have to explain his way outta that one. He might get caught in the crossfire ‘tween us and the Law for it.

Tell him to wait with the train. The Law’ll be back out here soon enough, and they’ll find him here. It’s about as natural it gets with a holdup like this, though if them Vipers happen to be around and they see a stopped train in the desert, he might find himself under fire ‘fore too long.

Kill him. Sorry, Highball, ol’ friend, but we can’t afford no more witnesses.

(Confidence Required: 40 Votes)

Author's Note

Took a while to get this chapter out because of Bronycon and such, but now we're finally back! Also, I take a picture of the poll results and post it in the discord whenever I call a vote decided, which is why the winner and percentages are sometimes different than if you were to look at the poll results right before I post the chapter, as people can keep voting after I've already decided the outcome. That was the case for this chapter, with option 5 taking the lead at the time of publishing, even though the race had been decided on option 3 when the vote quota was met.

This chapter's poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/18429774

Please use the poll for voting. You can discuss options in the comments, but I will not take anything stated there into consideration when determining the vote.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Chapter 57

See if Silver wants some company for the night: 9 Votes

After some time to reflect, Kestrel stood up and moved closer to Silver. Her wingtips grabbed hold of the corners of the blanket and pulled them up some, tucking the end under Silver’s chin. “You good for the night?” Kestrel asked her, her voice soft and tender beneath the scratchiness years of smoking and drinking had inflicted upon it.

“Yeah,” Silver said, accompanied by a large yawn. “I’m thinkin’ I should get some rest. Good night’s sleep’ll have me feelin’ good as new tomorrow.”

“I suppose you’ve got a good point there,” Kestrel agreed. “Probably should get some rest myself…” After a moment to hesitate and clear her throat, her eyes momentarily made contact with Silver’s. “Think there’s enough room for two in that hammock?”

Kestrel uses Sweet Talker (4) on Silver Wings: Critical Fail

But Silver awkwardly shifted her eyes away and pulled the blanket a little tighter against her body. “I-I, uhh… f-funny joke, Kestrel,” she said, ears flattening down on her head. The younger mare hurriedly rolled onto her side and pulled the blankets over her head. “B-By the moon, I’m sure tired! G-Goodnight, Kessie! Seeyouinthemorningokaythanksbye!”

Kestrel winced at the rejection and recoiled a few steps. “Uh… r-right,” she said, turning sharply away from the younger mare and stepping out of the wagon. “You get some sleep now, alright? I’ll… might be back in the mornin’ to check on you.” When she didn’t get a response from the younger mare, the gunslinger sighed and used all of her willpower to gently shut the door behind her. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she hissed at herself as she talked away from Trixie’s wagon, putting as much distance between herself and it as she could. “What are you thinkin’, Kessie? She just told you you was like a big sister to her. If you wanna get rutted so bad, go find a stable in Hoofston to entertain you…”

She marched clear across the camp and down toward the lake, getting as far away from everypony else as she could manage without completely ditching camp. The last thing she wanted was to get stopped by somepony right now. After bringing up her troubled history and then being immediately rejected in her tentative attempt to get closer to Silver, she needed to be alone to calm herself down and sort out her thoughts. If Roughshod tried to stop her and talk to her, she might just rip off his head and do unspeakable things to his corpse.

Instead, after pushing through a wall of reeds, Kestrel found herself on the shore of the lake, her hooves already dampened by the mud lining the edge. The gunslinger closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the cooler air and light breeze blow off some of her mounting stress and bad memories. The past is the past, she reminded herself, and as she sat by the lake and focused on her breathing, she managed to push the past behind her and bring herself back to the present.

And the present was Hoofston, not Kite nor Silver. When she opened her eyes, she could see the sky polluted with light to the east, a faint glow that smeared out the stars above. For some reason, it bothered her that she couldn’t see all of the night sky overhead. Civilization was slowly leeching away what freedom remained in Equestria, and now it had started to steal away the night sky. What would the world be like in a hundred years when cities all across the nation blotted out the stars with their incandescent glow?

If there’s any consolation to that, I’ll be long dead by then, Kestrel thought with a quiet, sad chuckle. She was already in her thirties; most pegasi didn’t live beyond sixty-some years. But even dying at sixty was optimistic, she knew. In all likelihood, she knew she’d be dead within the year. The Law was closing in from all sides, and though they hadn’t seen the Pinks in Rock Ridge, they certainly had to have been attracted down south with all the chaos the Gang had made in its short stay. How long before they followed the trail to Hoofston?

That wasn’t something she could answer, and she knew the Gang likely wouldn’t find out until it was too late. That just meant they had to make their time in Hoofston count. They needed a big haul, bigger even than the train robbery. Hoofston was a small city, yes, but it was a city nonetheless. Compared to Rock Ridge, there had to be a whole wealth of opportunities simply waiting for the Gang to sniff them out.

Does Kestrel see anything interesting around the lake? No

Yawning, Kestrel let her eyes wander about the far shores of the lake for another ten or fifteen minutes, but the night was calm, still, dead. Cicadas buzzed and bullfrogs croaked, and here or there, a bat would let out a shrill shriek as it hunted mosquitos and mayflies. The only things alive out here around the lake were the animals and critters of nature, and Kestrel felt like an intruder in their secret kingdom. Still, it was a rare moment of peace she’d seldom been afforded of late. She considered taking a quick walk around the shoreline, but instead simply lingered around the lake for another ten minutes before returning to camp. Maybe another night.

By now, most of the Gang had retired for the evening, though Trixie and Wanderer still sat by the fire, their card game forgotten as they talked in quiet voices so as not to disturb the rest of the camp. Kestrel considered joining them, but another yawn directed her to her lean-to instead. After taking a moment to strip down and place her revolvers by her side in case she needed to grab them in the middle of the night, Kestrel flopped down on her sleeping mat and closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh. The night was a wash; hopefully the next day would be better.

It wasn’t all that long before sleep found her, troubled as it was.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

No poll for this chapter, as Lady Luck quickly shot down any new developments (some with much more prejudice than others). Looks like it's time to turn our attention to setting up shop in Hoofston instead.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 84

Kestrel and Starlight made their way across the camp toward the lake, with Starlight taking in her surroundings with great interest, as if she was committing every detail to memory. Kestrel wasn’t sure if she was just fascinated with being in an outlaws’ camp or something else, but didn’t let it bother her. Starlight’s goals and the Gang’s goals were roughly aligned, and together, they’d crash the Apple Conglomerates conference and hopefully make off like kings and queens, all while delivering Starlight’s message of revolution to the people of Hoofston.

As they approached Silver and Tumbleweed, the younger pegasus alerted Tumbleweed to their presence with a flick of her ear, and the Gang’s leader turned around with a slight grin on his face and an unlit cigar in his magic. “Ah! Starlight! Welcome to our humble little campsite,” he said, sticking out a hoof for her to shake. “Looks like we can finally talk without any magic or illusions to hide our faces.”

“Only yours,” Starlight reminded him, but she shook his offered hoof. “‘Mulberry’, I take it?”

“Call me Tumbleweed,” the stallion said. “Scourge of the Equestrian government and law-abidin’ ponies from Canterlot to Appleloosa, and soon to be Hoofston. Least, that’s what the Law seems to think of us.”

“Assuming this goes off without any difficulties, you’ll soon be trusted friends of the Revolution.”

“Maybe then somepony’ll erect statues of us instead of gallows.” Tumbleweed offered his cigar to Starlight, who politely shook her head, before he lit it and stuck it in his mouth. “Come on, let’s discuss this by the fire. You thirsty or hungry? We’ve got plenty to share.”

Starlight nodded and followed the stallion toward the center of camp. “I would appreciate that. After all, Kestrel and Silver didn’t give me much time to order anything at the bar for lunch.”

Kestrel breathily chuckled as she dug out a cigarette from her pockets. “That bar food ain’t gonna be as good as some of Miss Irons’ home cookin’. Say, where’s everypony at?” she asked, turning to Tumbleweed. “Camp seems damn empty.”

“Well, Miss Irons and Wanderer are by the chuck wagon, you can see,” Tumbleweed said, pointing off to the side where the two elderly ponies were preparing the next pot of stew. “Snapshot and Roughshod are fishin’ further along the lake. Rough said he found a good spot, though I guess we’ll just have to wait and see ‘bout that. And Trixie, well, figure she’s inside of her wagon workin’ on somethin’. Or maybe catchin’ a few more winks. Never know with our magician.”

Starlight raised an eyebrow. “Is she the one that cast those poorly-done illusions for you?”

“Yeah, sad to say it but she’s the closest thing we got to a mage ‘round here,” Kestrel said. “Tumbleweed just knows how to hold a gun in that magic of his.”

“You don’t give me enough credit,” Tumbleweed said, dragging over the crate of beer while the three mares sat down around the fire. “I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve that come out now and again.”

“But what makes the illusions so bad?” Silver asked, holding out a wing to receive the bottle of beer as Tumbleweed passed the first one to her. “They look fine to me.”

“It’s just something you notice if you’ve studied real magic,” Starlight said. “Your illusionist is trying to create illusions from mental pictures and hang it over your bodies like a curtain instead of letting the spell do the work for her, which is what any real trained mage would do. There’s little irregularities in how the light shines on your face, for example, that most ponies wouldn’t really notice unless they took a good, long look at you. Plus, it’s inefficient, so a trained horn like my own can feel the magic if you get too close.”

“Maybe we should team up more after this conference,” Tumbleweed mused. He passed out two more beers to Kestrel and Starlight before sitting down across from them. “If you’re as knowledgeable as you claim, then we might both benefit from such an arrangement.”

Kestrel nodded along at that idea. Having a pony as magically powerful and trained as Starlight could be useful in the future… but that was a thought for the future. At the moment, there were more pressing concerns to be dealt with. “We’ll look back into that after the conference, I feel,” she said. “Right now, we should be thinkin’ out a plan.”

“Right.” Tumbleweed took a drag from his cigar and then washed away the taste with a sip of beer. “So, Silvie gave me the gist of the thing, ‘fore the two of you showed up. Six ponies dealin’ with the auction house, and six causin’ a distraction someplace else. I right ‘bout that?”

“That’s what we have in mind,” Starlight said. “One of my companions and myself will be part of the six taking on the auction house, and three of your seven should join my other three companions in causing the distraction. That should give us a roughly even balance for taking on this task.”

“And your companions, they can fight?” Tumbleweed asked her.

“I plan on taking myself and my right-hoof unicorn to the conference. We can both handle ourselves,” Starlight said. “I have a pegasus, an earth pony, and another unicorn that can help with the distraction. They’re obviously not as experienced in handling weapons as your gang is, but they can handle themselves in a scrape. Depending on how the distraction goes, however, they might benefit from having some more capable ponies accompanying them.”

Tumbleweed rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, whatever we choose to hit to start a distraction, we’re gonna need capable ponies to pull it off. At the same time, though, if the distraction ain’t good enough to draw off lots of Pinks from the conference, we don’t want the team that’s gonna be lootin’ the joint to be without good shots. We’ll have to split our group carefully.”

“Right,” Kestrel agreed. She gave herself a few moments to think, and then nodded to herself. “I think the three ponies we send to the distraction should be…”

[PICK ANY THREE - SEE AUTHOR'S NOTE]

Kestrel

Tumbleweed

Roughshod

Silver Wings

Snapshot

Wanderer

Trixie

Author's Note

Slightly different poll this time around; instead of picking just one choice, I want everybody to pick three different characters. On Friday, I will see which three characters had the most votes, and those three will be part of the distraction team in Hoofston. The other four will take part in the job at the conference. I would recommend refreshing yourselves on what each character is best at by looking at the character sheets linked below.

So again, PICK THREE PONIES YOU WANT TO SEND TO THE DISTRACTION. The others will go to the conference.

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 87

Leave the conference preparations to Starlight and her ponies: 13 Votes

The choice, to Kestrel, was obvious. “Well, if you’re offerin’,” she said, shrugging at the revolutionary. “Usually I’d see we’d take care of things ourselves, but with the Pinks in town and the law on high alert for us, it ain’t the best of ideas for us to get involved. So long as your gang’s competent enough to pull it off.”

“We’ll be fine,” Starlight assured her. “Under my leadership, things will go off without a hitch.”

Tumbleweed chuckled at that. “And you was insultin’ our magician for makin’ terrible illusions and you yourself can’t do much better,” he said with a shake of his head. “I hope you don’t take it too personally when I say my faith in your words has diminished some as of late.”

Starlight Glimmer rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be an expert in something to say that it’s poorly done,” she said. “Otherwise nopony in this world could criticize another without having the same qualifications, and I feel we can all agree that doesn’t make sense. Just because illusions aren’t my forte doesn’t mean that I can’t point out poorly-cast ones when I notice them. You don’t have to be a fat and wealthy capitalist to critique the rigged and exploitative system that we live under today.”

“Alright, alright, forget I said nothin’,” Tumbleweed said, waving his hoof. “At any rate, it sounds like we have our plan. You and your ponies will go get the uniforms tomorrow night after the conference winds down for the evening, and then we’ll go from there. I’d recommend coming straight back here when you’re done with the job so we can organize ourselves one last time and set out as a group on Friday morning. Might be some things change between now and the end of Thursday.”

“Double-checking our plans is always the best way forward,” Starlight agreed. “I’ll keep an eye out for any changes when getting the uniforms and inform you all when I return. That way we can make any last minute adjustments.” With that, she stood up from her stool and stretched her back, rolling her shoulders along with the motion. “Do we have any last things we need to discuss, or should I be on my way to inform my allies about our plan?”

Kestrel thought for a few moments, but ultimately came up with nothing. “Nothin’ pressin’, at least,” she said. “There’ll be a few details to figure out when we’re closer to doin’ this thing, I’m sure, but ain’t nothin’ right now. We got a solid foundation to work with, for what it’s worth.”

“It’ll be worth a whole lot, Kessie,” Tumbleweed assured her. “Certainly beats chargin’ headfirst into a den full of Pinks and gettin’ ourselves shot full of holes.”

“That’s exactly what we’re doin’, just with a few more steps.” Kestrel then turned to Starlight and touched a wingtip to the brim of her hat. “Well, thanks for comin’ along and helpin’ us get this whole thing sorted out. And thanks for aidin’ us in the job. With the Pinks in town, we weren’t ever gonna be able to do this by our lonesomes.”

“I could say much the same thing,” Starlight told her. “The Revolution needs allies if it is to succeed. Before your Gang came to town, I could hardly get ponies to listen to me. But now…” Kestrel didn’t miss the gleam in her eye as she smiled to herself. “Soon Hoofston will be the birthplace of equality. And it begins in two days.”

Kestrel and Tumbleweed shared a look, but neither bothered to say anything about Starlight’s proclamation. She was pulling her own weight to help out, after all, and losing her support by being too derisive toward her ideals wasn’t exactly the best way to pull off the job on Friday. Besides, not much harm would come just from letting her talk. “Well, best of luck to you and your revolution,” Kestrel said, likewise standing up to walk her out of the camp. “Hopefully this job gives us both what we want.”

The two mares plus Tumbleweed started moving along the path to the main road, and Starlight casually regarded Kestrel as they did so. “I’m sure it will, though I’m surprised your group hasn’t found a higher calling. Wouldn’t you want your lives to mean something? There’s always a home for you in the Revolution.”

“Right now, the only thing on our minds is gettin’ outta this whole mess with our heads on straight,” Tumbleweed said. “Survival’s our only goal. We ain’t exactly got the luxury to get political, you see.”

“Things can change quicker than you think.” The three ponies made it to the edge of the trees, and Starlight turned to face them before departing. “If we can bring about true equality to Equestria, that means a clean slate for everypony. Especially those that help with the cause. Think about that.”

The pink unicorn winked at them and then turned around, setting off for the main road while humming some tune that Kestrel couldn’t place. Tumbleweed and Kestrel watched her go, and only when she was out of earshot did Tumbleweed laugh and turn away. “That mare’s got delusions bigger than our wildest dreams,” he said as he trotted back into the camp. “I don’t know what she thinks this all is gonna accomplish, but I don’t think it’s gonna create her perfect equality state she so desperately believes it will. But if she thinks helpin’ us is gonna make it a reality, then I ain’t gonna say nothin’ ‘bout it.”

Kestrel nodded quietly to herself as he walked away. She didn’t think Starlight’s plan for revolution in Equestria would be all that successful… but who knew, really? Perhaps only time would tell. For now, though, she was more interested in getting the money the Gang needed to flee Equestria and hopefully evade the Law for good. Friday would be a very important day to determine if they’d live or if they’d die.

In the meanwhile, Kestrel looked around the camp, noting that most of the Gang members were keeping to themselves for the afternoon, taking care of whatever they felt needed taking care of. They’d come together later tonight as a group, but if she wanted to talk to somepony one on one, now would be the best chance to do so.

Tumbleweed

Roughshod

Silver

Snapshot

Wanderer

Miss Irons

Trixie

Nopony

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 93

Chapter 93

Practice target shooting with Snapshot: 9 Votes

As the Gang began to split up and tackle whatever they felt like doing for the day, Kestrel decided that it would be good to just work on her fundamentals in preparation for the inevitable shootout that was to come tomorrow. So, after making sure her revolvers were spotless and her bandolier was filled with ammunition, Kestrel grabbed several old bottles of whiskey, gin, and beer lying around the camp and placed them into a crate. Then, placing that crate on her back between her wings, Kestrel made her way through the camp, glass jingling on her back, until she found Snapshot leaning against a tree, peering through the copse between the camp and the road, ever vigilant for any signs of trouble.

“See anythin’?” Kestrel asked, walking up to Snapshot’s side. She peered through the trees to the road but didn’t spot any movement. “Looks dead to me.”

“It has been,” Snapshot answered her. Kestrel knew better than to expect anything more from the stallion of little words, so she instead tried to read his body language to glean any more clues from him. He didn’t seem on edge or bothered, so it likely meant that he was just bored or relaxed, and not actually suspicious of any activity.

“Well, that’s good,” Kestrel said. She shook her hindquarters to give the crate of bottles on her back a little shake, the jingle of glass managing to turn Snapshot’s ear and get him to look at her. “I was thinkin’ of passin’ the day doin’ some shootin’,” Kestrel said. “Practice the fundamentals a bit. Just gotta be ready for tomorrow, y’know? Ain’t done much shootin’ since leavin’ Rock Ridge.” She pointed a wing toward Snapshot’s rifle, leaning against the tree by his side. “If you’re goin’ with Trixie and Rough, I figured you might want to shoot some as well.”

It took a few seconds, but Snapshot finally nodded and picked up his rifle in his magic. “By the lake?” he asked, head cocked back in the direction of camp.

“Probably for the best, so we ain’t gonna shoot nopony,” Kestrel said. “C’mon, let’s get goin’.”

Having successfully looped the Gang’s distant shootist along for some target practice, Kestrel led Snapshot toward the lake, passing through the camp and nodding to the ponies there so they knew that the gunfire they were about to hear wasn’t coming from an attack on the camp. The two gunslingers made their way around the right side of the lake, opposite from where Kestrel saw Tumbleweed fishing on the distant sore, and started setting up the bottles at about shoulder height on a fallen tree down by the shore.

“So here’s a question for you, Snapshot,” Kestrel started as they set up the bottles, trying to get a conversation going between them. “How’d you get so good at shootin’? Obviously, seems like it was in your name and such…” When Snapshot only raised an eyebrow at her, Kestrel rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Snap, this ain’t no interrogation. Just tryin’ to strike up some friendly banter.”

“Banter isn’t one of my strong suits,” Snapshot simply stated.

“Yeah, and you been with us for four years now, so I think it’s ‘bout time you managed to open up a little.” Kestrel set up the last of the bottles, tossed the crate aside, and started counting out paces away from the log to set a distance. She stopped at ten, Snapshot matching her stride for stride, and turned around to pull out her revolver. “You talk so little I ain’t ever knowin’ what’s goin’ on in that head o’ yours.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Snapshot remarked. “There are two kinds of ponies in the world: those who talk too much and have nothing to say, and those who talk little and value their words.”

Kestrel (8) and Snapshot (9) use Gunslinger to shoot at the first pair of bottles: Success, Critical Fail

The two gunslingers drew their weapons and attempted to hit the first target from ten paces away, with Kestrel’s smoking revolver shattering the first gin bottle with ease. Snapshot, however, frowned as his revolver spewed a shower of sparks out of the barrel. “Bullet must not have been seated right,” he said, working the hammer and readying the next round. The second bullet flew true and shattered the bottle at his end of the fallen tree, and Kestrel smirked as Snapshot opened the revolver to clear out the dud round.

“I’ll count it as one to two,” she said. “Fewest shots to clear their bottles wins.”

“I dislike revolvers,” Snapshot said. “Rifles are more accurate. Precision versus a revolver’s unrefined punch.”

“Ain’t nopony makin’ you use it,” Kestrel said.

“If I used my rifle, this wouldn’t be a fair competition.”

“If you say so, Snapshot.” The two ponies backed up ten more paces, bringing the range to twenty. “You still didn’t answer my question, Snap.”

Kestrel (8) and Snapshot (9) use Gunslinger to shoot at the second pair of bottles: Success, Fail

Once more, the two gunslingers fired, and once more, Kestrel’s bottle shattered while Snapshot missed his mark. Frowning, the stallion took extra time to line up his next shot and shattered the bottle. Kestrel whistled. “Maybe you shouldn’t answer that, on second thought,” she said. “This ain’t seemin’ like your day.”

“Revolvers,” Snapshot said, as if that explained everything.

Kestrel chuckled. “A real craftsmare don’t blame her tools, y’know.”

They took another ten paces back, sidestepping a young tree sprouting out of the ground. “I used to be in the Army,” Snapshot finally said as they walked. “Only for a couple of years, though. Enough time to shoot a few griffons in the southeast during the conflict over Westkönigsland. I was a sniper. I killed a griffon colonel and four other officers in the war.”

Kestrel raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. “You ain’t never mentioned that. I didn’t know you and Rough were in the Army together.”

“Not together,” Snapshot corrected. “I only met him when I joined the Gang. I certainly didn’t meet him fighting the griffons.”

Kestrel (8) and Snapshot (9) use Gunslinger to shoot at the third pair of bottles: Fail, Success

This time it was Kestrel’s turn to take two shots at hitting the third bottle, while snapshot took his time and drilled it dead center with his bullet. Kestrel whickered in annoyance as the score narrowed between the two of them, but didn’t change the topic now that she finally was getting something out of Snapshot. “You’re only thirty though, right? And you joined us when you was twenty-six. How long ago were you in the Army?”

“The conflict with the griffons was ten years ago,” Snapshot said, shrugging. “So I suppose I must have been twenty. That’s about how long ponies have called me Snapshot.”

“That ain’t your real name?” Kestrel asked him, somewhat incredulous.

“It’s what my army comrades called me,” Snapshot said. “I had the highest marks for accuracy in my brigade. The name stuck.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t call you Crackshot then,” Kestrel said. “A crack shot implies accuracy. A snapshot’s about speed, right?”

“Didn’t do enough cocaine for the other name,” Snapshot said.

It took Kestrel a moment to realize that was a joke. “You just make a joke, Snap?” she asked him, even managing an amused grin. “I think that’s a first.”

Snapshot faintly smiled back at her. “The merits of talking little and making your words valuable.”

Kestrel (8) and Snapshot (9) use Gunslinger to shoot at the fourth pair of bottles: Critical Fail, Success

Snapshot’s revolver quickly barked out a round, shattering his bottle, while Kestrel’s clicked on a dud round. Growling, Kestrel forced the cylinder along with a quick flick of the hammer and fired a live round, finally hitting her target. “At least we’re getting’ all the duds out now,” she said. “Equestrian bullets are the worst. They’re cheap as all hell, true, but the quality reflects that.”

“Griffon bullets are much higher quality,” Snapshot said. But he shrugged as he added, “Too bad we can’t get them around here. They were hard to get before the war. Now they’re impossible to find.”

“Yeah.” Kestrel popped open the cylinder of her revolver and dumped the empty shell casings (and dud bullet) on the ground. “Well, shit. Looks like we tied.”

“We still have bottles,” Snapshot remarked. “Reload and try again?”

“I like that idea,” Kestrel said, loading her revolver with fresh lead. “That’s a good idea, Snapshot.”

“I know,” the unicorn said. “Mine usually are.”

Kestrel could only laugh as the two went back at it for a second round.

Kestrel’s Gunslinger score has temporarily increased by +1 for the duration of the conference job.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD

Chapter 120

Wanderer: 6 Votes

“Ah, I’ve always wanted to get myself killed in a quarry,” Wanderer joked, volunteering when it was clear neither Roughshod nor Trixie were all that interested in going down into the basin of the quarry alone and risking their lives for the ransom. “I don’t think we’ll have too much to worry about our dear friend trying to slip loose on us when the whole point of this little ordeal is to give her back, and in this scenario, I’d rather we pull things off without Rough breaking somepony’s nose before it’s absolutely necessary.”

Roughshod scoffed and crossed his forelegs. “Breakin’ ponies’ noses is always necessary at some point,” he argued. “Some ponies just cross that to earning a broken nose line faster than others.”

“If you wanna go out there and see how many ponies you can accost ‘fore one of ‘em puts three shots in you, by all means, be my guest,” Tumbleweed said. “But don’t expect us to back you up. We need this whole thing to go smooth and fast. We go in, get our money, and get out. With luck, we’ll be thirty miles away from Hoofston by the end of the day.”

“Hopefully that’ll be enough to shake the Pinks and bounty hunters for a little while,” Kestrel thought aloud. She looked around at her friends, at their small camp with a couple of wagons and supplies, at the quiet little space they’d chosen, hidden away by the lake. It was one of the better places they’d ever made camp at, and Kestrel didn’t know if they’d find anything nearly as accommodating near New Oatleans. From what she knew about the coastal city, it was mostly swamps and bayous, a horribly humid and wet place that would make anypony miserable if they spent too much time out in the wilderness and away from society. Plus there were supposedly alligators out there. The last thing anypony needed to deal with was an alligator trying to drown them when they were taking a bath.

“If they don’t try to jump us at the ransom, they’ll be waitin’ in the bushes nearby, I’m certain of it,” Tumbleweed said. “All the more reason why timin’ is so important. The moment we get the money, assumin’ the deal even goes through in the first place, we gotta be on high alert for an ambush. Truth is, we ain’t gonna rest easy ‘til we get to New Oatleans—and that’s gonna be an uneasy rest at best.”

“Best thing we can do to counter that is to give the place a good look over tomorrow ‘fore we get down and dirty in the meetin’.” Kestrel settled her eyes on Trixie, who seemed to know that she was about to be asked something she’d rather not do. “You’re comin’ with me tomorrow, Trixie, and we’re gonna take a look ‘round the quarry. You knew enough ‘bout the quarry to suggest it as a hidin’ spot for the distraction team to lay low, so I wanna know if you got anythin’ else that’s interestin’ we could use for our advantage.”

“But that’s a long walk away,” Trixie protested. “And we need to be tearing down camp tomorrow, don’t we?”

“Would you rather tear down camp or would you rather go sightseein’ with me?” Kestrel countered. “I’ll carry you on my back if I gotta. I want to go pokin’ ‘round and find the best places to get set up with rifles should we need to use ‘em. It’ll be best to do that while we got some time to ourselves without any worry of stumblin’ into a trap.”

“Good idea,” Tumbleweed said. Then he turned to the rest of the Gang and gestured around the camp. “While they’re off doin’ that tomorrow’, we’ll get this place torn down and ready to go. If we get movin’ ‘fore the two of you get back, I’ll send Silvie off to the quarry to find you and let you know where we’re headin’.”

“It’s a plan, then.” Kestrel let out a yawn which she covered behind her fanned wing. “If we’re all good on the details, then, I’m gonna turn in for the night. Got a busy day tomorrow. I suggest y’all do the same as well.”

There weren’t any objections, and so after finishing off her drink with a few last gulps, Kestrel tossed it aside and made her way to her lean-to to get some rest. It was going to be her last night sleeping by the little lake outside of Hoofston. Might as well make the best of it.

She slept like a rock until morning came.

By the time Kestrel and Trixie made it to the quarry, the sun had been in the sky for only an hour, yet the factories in Hoofston had been churning out their black smoke for much longer than that. The two mares had managed to avoid most of the early risers out on the roads around Hoofston, and those that they couldn’t avoid they merely greeted and kept walking like nothing was wrong. Kestrel would have rathered she just carry Trixie all the way to the quarry, but Trixie had gotten really uncomfortable about flying above the ground, and on top of that, she was heavier than she looked. Kestrel wouldn’t have been able to get high enough off the ground to avoid most ponies’ eyes, and flying only a little bit off the ground with another pony on her back would have been a sure way to draw unwanted attention.

The quarry was easy enough to find, given Trixie’s knowledge of the land and the wooden signs warning that trespassers would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Kestrel only snickered to herself as the two mares ignored the signs and continued on the dusty road toward the quarry anyway. For some reason, Kestrel had the feeling that trespassing would be the least of her concerns if the Law ever managed to get ahold of her.

Does Kestrel and Trixie encounter any unexpected problems while scouting the quarry? No

“Well, here we are,” Trixie proclaimed as they followed the road right to the first descent into the quarry. “All rocks and dust and probably our graves tomorrow morning…”

Kestrel frowned and took wing, getting a little bit of elevation to survey the quarry better. The whole thing was shaped like a lumpy egg pinched in the middle, creating the suggestion of two halves with the deepest point of the quarry placed in the narrow center. The side they approached from, and also the side with the road leading toward Hoofston, was the larger of the two halves, with a wide rim overlooking the center of the quarry. Kestrel figured this would be where the Conglomerates party would set up shop; they’d be arriving from the city, after all, and would quickly lay claim to this half of the quarry. That left the other half for the Gang, as well as some contested ground in the middle.

Thankfully, there were steeper walls and a few outcroppings of rock around the smaller end of the quarry. Those would provide cover from around and within the quarry, but not from anypony approaching from the sides or behind. She also noticed some caves dug into the limestone, where a particularly valuable piece of stone had been cut out of the surrounding walls to be hauled off for a building project somewhere else. Those would provide cover from all around and possibly even hide the Gang from observers, but they were halfway down in the quarry, which meant getting out of them and back out in a hurry could be tricky. “Caves and cliffs,” Kestrel said as she considered the two. “One or the other’ll work. Got any suggestions?”

Trixie’s Explorer quirk reveals an additional option at the quarry.

“Well, the last time Trixie was here, they were closing the quarry because the cliffs were unstable,” she said, looking out over the quarry. “Particularly at the middle. See that pile of rocks down at the bottom? That’s where one of the walls gave way. Whoever set this quarry up rushed to the bottom without taking the time to make sure the walls were erosion-proofed. Placing a bomb in the right spot might cause the northern cliff to come tumbling down, Trixie thinks.”

“Hmmm.” Kestrel dropped back to the ground and rubbed her chin with a wingtip. She could see the spot Trixie was talking about; bushes grew out close to the edge, providing a little bit of foliage to obscure anypony hiding up there, and she could see the collection of stones dotting the next level down from the cliff. She even heard the echoes of pebbles popping out of the cracks in the wall bouncing around the quarry. It wouldn’t be too hard to trigger a landslide and fill in the bottom of the quarry, as well as send up a huge cloud of dust and debris, but the ponies up there would be vulnerable to being shot at in the meanwhile, and dropping the cliff face into the quarry during or after the meeting would definitely start a fight with the Apples. Plus, it was close to where the Apples would be set up, and if any of them stumbled across a bomb, the whole ransom would be called off.

“One of those three spots will work,” Kestrel concluded. “We should go tell Tumbleweed about this.”

“Which one do you think is the best, though?” Trixie asked as the two mares turned around and began to walk away from the quarry.

The cliffs around the small end of the quarry. Good sightlines and good cover from within the quarry, but if somepony comes up from behind us or ‘round the sides, or even from above, we ain’t got nowhere to hide.

The caves within the quarry. Plenty of places to hide while the ransom is goin’ on and we can only be attacked from one angle, but we could end up trapped in ‘em and we can’t see as much as if we were up fully on the cliffs.

The cliff walls at the midpoint. If we plan on settin’ up a bomb there, we have to control the area to make sure that the Apples don’t find it. A rockslide could pay off in any number of ways, but the only cover we got there is bushes and grass. We get spotted and shootin’ starts, a few leaves ain’t gonna stop bullets from fillin’ us full of holes.

Author's Note

Please comment your decision down below. Only comments expressly stating your choice will be considered. You cannot vote for multiple choices. Polling will be considered closed after a few days and a sufficient number of comments.

This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdD