Author's Note

Okay, so I hereby dub this as my sick puppy chapter. I cannot stress this enough if the following triggers, you need to avoid everything between the XXXXXXXXXXXX

Triggers are: rape, torture, abuse, blood, gore, torture, and a brief mention of possible cannibalism.

Seriously this is rough stuff. I am actually a little worried about myself right now. But I still like this chapter and how I wrote the character, so please, if you can stomach it, please read.

P.S. Sorry for not putting this at the top when I posted it.

memoirs of a mad caribou

After a week of stay as Cirrus drop, the rebellion began to move on. They had made it to another keep that had been abandoned for some time and set up camp again, so the leaders decided this was a perfect time for training any who were willing and able to fight. Ivor, Shining, and Gaius all had their work cut out for them, given that most fighting in Equestria rarely escalated past a short brawl and only royal guards ever used weapons. Ivor gave insight into how his kind fought, Shining the training and discipline, and Gaius was working on getting the more squeamish over any hang-ups about drawing blood. All three agreed that he had the most challenging job currently.

"Okay… let's try this again." Gaius groaned lightly, thumping his head against the pommel of his sword. "As simple as I can make it, the sharp end goes into the other guy." He growled.

"But killing is wrong." An earth pony cried out.

"And what they do to your fellow ponies is just fine, I suppose!" Gaius snapped back before taking a deep breath. "Killing is wrong, yes.BUT in the form of defense or survival, it is acceptable."

"But we can't." A Pegasus called.

"Fine," Gaius muttered. "Then partner up and work on your swordplay; I need to get my head straight." He said, walking away and stopping out of sight. With a deep breath and a calm manner, Gaius found enough of his center to deliver a brutal punch to a brick wall, caving in the section he hit.

"Problem?" He heard the voice of Ivor speak. Turning to face him, he saw Shining with him.

"I can't have soldiers that put morals before their own lives or others." He answered, shaking out his hand and leaning against the wall. "I understand Equestrians haven't indeed fought in a few decades, but they must have some want to defend their homes, each other, a future something."

"We knew peace more than anything, aside from the occasional villain, we taught our children to love and accept." Shining explained. "To change that way of life in a few short days is asking a lot."

"We'll need more than a lot," Gaius said as the sound of a soldier running up with a worried look on his face. "Oh, what the fuck now?" He asked with a loud groan.

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The three commanders ran up to the crowd that had gathered near the middle of the training field.

"MOVE! OUT OF THE WAY!" Ivor yelled, pushing through them. In the middle of the group, they had found what the soldier had come and told them. On the ground, with a large gash where his neck met the shoulder and gushed blood, was Vidar, as a male unicorn tried to keep pressure on the wound, but the cloth he was using was already pouring blood.

The unicorn looked up with horror filling his eyes. He was looking to find the words or anything to explain himself, but he could only look back and forth between the three before he found his voice. "We-we we're training, and he-he came sprinting at me I-I-I thought he was going to kill me, he was like an animal he-" he tried babbling on before Gaius stopped him and kneeled to inspect the wound. The griffin shook his head, seeing the severity of the injury.

"He's got maybe five minutes—nothing we can do." Gaius made the unicorn move away and grabbed Vidar's hand, looking him in the eye. "I didn't think you were such a bad kid, but maybe next time around, you'll get a better chance at life." Vidar met his gaze as his eyes slowly rolled back, and his breathing slowed to a stop, and the hand Gaius held fell limp. With a heavy sigh, the griffin stood and looked at the unicorn and spoke.

"You took a life not because you wanted to, but because you felt you had to, there is no reason to feel guilt," Gaius explained. "But if you are feeling any, grab a shovel and give him a proper resting place; the rest of you learn from this and realize that anyone can take life at a moment's notice, so either fight or die." He finished and started to walk away.

"Nice speech," Ivor commented. "Sucks about the kid, though."

"Better by one of our own than one of the enemy," Gaius comments back.

"IVOR! GAIUS!" Shining yelled for them, making them turn and sprint back to the white unicorn who had begun helping lift Vidar.

The young caribou still laid on the ground with dried blood on his upper half, but the shocking part was the tattoos, brandings, and scars began to glow a bright electric blue as the gash on his neck closed shut and his eyes began to flutter open. With a groan, Vidar sat up, scratching his neck as if he had just woken up from a nap. Looking around confused, Vidar stood up and gathered his weapons, making his way back to the main camp.

"Okay, what. The. Fuck. Was that?" Gaius asked, looking for an answer.

"I don't believe it," Ivor gasped. "Heard about it, read about it, never thought it was real."

"Okay, look, I'm not in the mood to ask 'what' a hundred times today, so either tell us what that was, or I'm going to break your fucking nose," Gaius growled, his patience for the day running thin. "How the hell did he come back to life?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Ivor stated, making a vein bulge out under Gaius's helmet. "But that looked like Baldur's curse."

"Oh, of course," Shining said. "What is Baldur's curse?"

"Baldur is one of our gods," Ivor started. "of light, joy, purity, and the summer sun; an Oracle told his mother he'd die a needless death, so she put a spell on him to make him invulnerable to any and all injuries no matter how minor or serious."

"Wow, sounds helpful," Gaius remarked.

"It does, but he also couldn't feel anything else," Ivor continued. "Food had no taste, drink never quenched his thirst, and felt no love when he kissed his wife."

"Fuck that," Shining commented. "Rather feel all the pain in the world than not feel anything when I'm with my wife."

"Aw, how sweet." The voice of Cadence said as she and a group of others walked up carrying food. "And here I thought you only appreciated me for my brain." She joked, kissing her husband's cheek.

Gaius watched Vidar as he walked away, scratching his chin thinking about what Ivor had told them about this 'curse'.

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In another part of Equestria, a mare kept her eyes forward and tried not to let her emotions show as she gently stroked the hair of the caribou occupying her lap. Said caribou was Brandt, who seemed to be in deep thought as he looked up at the mare before speaking.

"Am I a bad creature?" He asked.

The mare didn't answer as she continued her task until Brandt sat up and stood.

"I do bad things, but am I bad?" He asked again before starting at a slow pace.

"If a bear takes a fish from a stream, is it wrong? Or if a bird takes twigs for a nest, is that?" He continued as he looked at the mare who didn't answer him. "Perhaps it is a fact of if one enjoys doing bad things, what do you think, my sweet?"

The mare tried to take a moment before her eyes began to stream tears, and she bawled out, crying in sadness and fear.

"Aw, there it is, all that coldness for nothing." Brandt cooed as he sat down behind her on the ground, wrapping her in his arms in what could be mistaken as a tender embrace. "Why so sad, my little moon pie?" He asked. "Could it be something you see?" Looking ahead, he addresses the scene in front of them.

As the two sat on a small hill, they watched as a small town burnt to the ground. Screams of pain and for help were heard like thunder; Stonehoof cut down any they came in contact with if they put up a fight; they were the lucky ones as any female captured was stripped and violated on the spot; some even pushed against burning rubble as they were raped violently. Some of the genuinely unlucky were made examples of and either hanged in plain sight or forced to watch as mothers, sisters, wives, daughters were all taken in front of them; some were even given a choice to violate them themselves if they preferred. The entire scene was something out of a horror show straight from a nightmare. Brandt pulled the mare closer and nuzzled against her neck with a sigh.

"Don't just love a warm fire-lit sky on cold winter nights?" He asked the mare as she continued to cry.

"You know what?" He started. "This puts me in the mood for a bit of a game." He spoke cheerfully as he pulled her to her feet and towards his tent. As they entered the mare, they saw several decorations such as lanterns and effigies, all made of bones and skulls; in the middle was a large butcher's block table with blood stains and deep cuts made into it. Brandt moved around the table and pulled out a large knife roll before addressing the mare.

"First a story," He started. "My grandfather was a weak man and let a woman rule his world, so much so that when my father challenged him, it was a slaughter," he chuckled. "And when my brothers and I were born, he wanted us to be stronger than forces of nature; my older brother was sent to train with highlanders and became like a mountain while I was sent to the caves of our homeland," he continued with a deep sigh. "It was there I learned the cruel truth of this world. Do you know what that is, little moon pie?" He asked but only got weeps from the poor mare.

"ANSWER ME!" He yelled full of fury, making the mare jump.

"What?" The mare barely whispered. This made Brandt smile wickedly and walk over, pulling her into a hug, rocking her a little, and running a hand through her hair before whispering right back.

"That in this cruel, sad, pain-filled world," he said, starting to rub her head more aggressively. "Everyone wants something, and if you want it, you take it." He growled the last part before spinning her around where her hands landed on the table in front of the knife roll. Taking a deep whiff of her hair, Brandt whispered again. "Open it."

Doing as instructed, the mare unclasped the buckle and rolled out the bag to see a large spread of over a dozen knives ranging from cleavers to small paring knives. All seemed to be bloodied, rusted, and crudely made. Looking over all of them filled the mare with fear as the terrifying caribou pressed into her from behind, looking over her shoulder. Still rocking and developing a sadistic smile on his face, Brandt stepped back and rushed around to the other side, palms on the table, looking right in her eyes.

"Pick one." He ordered.

The mare looked at him, and she saw a pair of eyes filled with a spark of something…evil. She slowly picked up a decent-sized hunting knife and held it up for him to inspect.

"Excellent choice." He smiled before grabbing his own from the bunch, a simple double-sided dagger. "Now the game is simple," He explained, walking back around to her. "You want something; I want something, the winner gets their prize, so what does the lady want?" He asked.

The mare took a moment before gripping the blade firmly and looking him in the eye. "I want to see you bleed; I want to see you gasping for breath; I want to stand over you and see you die." She said, mustering up all her courage.

Brandt chuckled, taking a few steps back and gripping his own blade. "Now that is something to want," he said, pulling his shirt off revealing his dirty bandaged torso; with a rolling crack of his neck, Brandt spoke again. "Well, if you win the game, you'll have just that, and I'll give you something that'll let you walk right of here as free as a bird." Twirling the blade in his hand, he motioned her to come at him.

The mare charged at him driving the blade deep into his gut and pulling up. Brandt's smile never faltered even as she twisted the knife, trying her best to do as much damage as she could. Letting out a laugh, Brandt pushed her back and slowly slid the knife out, and tossed it aside. The mare got her feet back under her and made for another knife but was stopped when the mad caribou pinned her to the table. She tried to fight, to roll away, kick him, anything she could, but it was all in vain. He was putting his weight on her, pinning her entire front to the table and her face pressed against half dry and gooey blood. Lowering his head down to her ear as she panted out, she felt his breath on her, then the wetness of his tongue sliding around the shell of her ear.

"You know," Brandt whispered. "You never asked what I wanted… moon pie." He breathed.

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Taking both her hands, putting one on top of the other and out in front of the mare, Brandt took his dagger, drove the blade through both of the back of her hands, pinning her in place as she screamed so loud it sounded like her lungs would pop.

"That's it, sweetie," he growled, grabbing the back of her dress and ripping it off, exposing her back and nearly falling off of her. "Let's make beautiful music that everyone can hear." Slowly kissing down her back and licking up the sweat that almost poured out of her in fear.

"You taste just like honey," he commented. "But I want something even better." He growled, reaching over her shoulder and grabbing a filet knife from the roll. She felt the blade edge meet the top of her left shoulder before the slicing pain ran down to her lower right rib, not cutting deep but enough for blood to begin pooling out. Her whimpering continued as she felt his tongue lick right down the laceration and heard him hum in approval. "An even sweeter filling." He remarked. "But I want that candy filling at your very center." With a deep growl, he grabbed what was left of her dress and ripped it off, and threw it away.

The mare still had her face pressed against the table, tears pouring out of her eyes so much she couldn't see anything. She felt his weight leave her for a moment before it returned once again, but nothing separated them now. His erection pushed at her entrance; she felt pain, sorrow, regret, rage, then felt him stop for a moment.

"You know my last playmate only lasted half an hour," Brandt said. "I hope you last longer." He laughed.

With no hesitation, he hilted himself in her, which received a shattering scream. Hard, rough, uncaring thrusts followed for what felt like hours. Each movement moved her hands, causing the blade to dig deeper, making her cry out each little cut. He kept on and kept on giving growls of pleasure and laughs until he slowed down to a crawl and the feeling of the blade returned to her other shoulder, and another cut followed, then another, and another, and another. So many came as he kept his pace until her back had a crisscross pattern that almost looked like mesh cloth. Seeing all the blood seemed to trigger something in the caribou, dropping the knife and with a hard thrust, Brandt grabbed the other side of the table and began to drive into her like an animal at the height of a rut cycle.

Dozens of more thrusts followed until, with a roar of pleasure, the caribou hilted himself again and released inside of the mare, whimpering for him not to. Panting, Brandt grabbed her mane and pulled it up, planting his mouth on her mouth in a rough open-mouth kiss he held till they both ran out of breath. Panting and chuckling, he put his ear to her back to check for a heartbeat and breathing. He found one, and his smile never seemed wider.

"Good for you, moon pie." He said, pulling out and grabbing a waterskin, pouring it over his head. "Now for the rough stuff." He teased, dropping the skin and returning to his playmate.

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It was midnight when Brandt emerged from his tent and was greeted by a caribou berserker with a pot in hand, offering it to him.

"How did we make out?" He asked, finishing putting his pants on.

"Several slaves and recruits." The berserker answered. "We also learn that the bug creatures are on the move."

"Interesting," He said, opening the lid to the pot. "I wonder what they taste like?" He smiled, looking inside before taking the dish.

"Shall I call for a cart, sir?" He asked Brandt.

"No need," Brandt smiled. "She is alive…for now." He then reentered the tent.

Filled with the smell of sweat, blood, and sex with the mare still pinned to the table, Brandt set the pot down and took off the lid, and grabbed a cup, filling it with what looked like broth. Looking to see the female fading into sleep, he offered it to her.

"Hungry?" He asked. "Careful though it is an acquired taste." He warned as the last thing she saw was an eyeball float to the top of the broth before she passed out.

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Back in the Warborn camp, Vidar shot awake in a panic seeing he was in the middle male warriors fast asleep. Shaking his head, the voices started up again.

'Kill'

'They don't want you.'

'Runaway'

They kept rambling, making the young caribou hold his head as he went for a walk to try and clear his head. Moving through the sleeping bodies, he found himself at the top of a tower looking over the edge. A high drop but not enough to kill, break something, but not kill. He lifted his foot, ready to take that step

'Do it!'

'Jump!'

'Make it end!'

when a voice stopped him.

"Please don't."

Turning, he found Applebloom with a large blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"They said you already died today; that can't be good for someone." She reasoned, walking forward. "Is it nightmares?" She asked, offering a hand to him. Looking away defeated, that confirmed it. He reached for her hand and grasped it. He stepped off the edge, and she pulled him close into a hug. The feeling was almost foreign to him, but he embraced it nonetheless.

"Come on; you can sleep by me tonight." She offered and pulled him along back to where she had been sleeping. Vidar followed with no hesitation for the second time he could ever remember; one voice was louder than all the others.

'It's okay, go with her.'

He knew the voice.

Her voice.