Legends of Equestria: Hesturland

Chapters

Sing me a Song of a Lad who is Gone...
...Say, could that Lad be I?
That's the Way we do It
The jor and the Dragon
Shovel Night
Hayseed Swamp Hot Step
Dark Secrets
Wandering Waters
Target Intercepted
Shadows Rising
Assault on Mount Talladega-Infiltration
Assault on Mount Talladega-Running with the Reckless
The Mighty Helm
I see Fire
Assault on Mount Talladega-Preparations

Sing me a Song of a Lad who is Gone...

NOTE: This chapter was written, and is set, before the imposition of a National Lockdown in England and Scotland. Do not attempt what Tom does in this chapter, as all unnecessary travel has been banned to prevent the spread of Covid.

It will surprise you little to hear that Tom was headed northwards and away from his native England. There was a simple reason for this. Owing to the circumstances that were gripping his country (and indeed, the entire world), he wanted to ensure that his family members in other parts of the world were well given the covid pandemic and the chaos being wreaked by politicians dithering over every conceivable decision they could make. What a surprise. Tom had a relative on his father's side who lived in Glasgow, and he was about as Scottish as they got (in fairness, Tom's surname was the name of a Scottish town not far from the border). No, this relative could trace his bloodline all the way back to Robert the Bruce, and possibly further if such records were found to have survived the storms of ages and marauding English armies (history is written by the winners, you know).

Tom had never really explored Scotland. There had been a previous trip where he had got very close to the border, but hadn't actually made it over the border as it wasn't in his remit. The borders can be a very quiet place, but Tom had been planning a trip to see some of the lowlands before the chaos hit. Now, he was driving up to see if Uncle Macallister was in good health, and have a chance to see him in case everything went pear shaped again (as there was a high likelihood it was, based on all the students who lived near him behaving like idiots). As Tom drove up the West Coast, pausing first to take a break and get a hot drink, and second to do some quick trainspotting as the M6 and the West Coast Main Line doubled each other between Preston and Glasgow, he switched on his car's audio system to see if there was anything worth listening to. Or hear. I suppose the latter is more likely.

After listening to a few seconds of out of tune bagpipes, Tom switched to something else. It was bagpipes in tune, with an orchestra. This was worth listening to. It was over in about half an hour, and then the news switched to something else.

"We now speak to William Fraser, head archeologist at Vindolanda," said the reporter, who belonged to BBC Radio Cumbria. "Mister Fraser, thank you for joining us."

"It's an honour," Fraser replied. "Thank you for having me on."

"Mister Fraser, please tell us about this remarkable artefact you found."

"We discovered it whilst doing excavation on the northern barracks at Vindolanda," Fraser told the reporter, clearly quite proud of what they had found. "We knew that weapons and other military equipment have previously been found in that area, including the only complete original suit of lorica segmentata in the world."

"Lorica Segmentata?"

"That's the main armour that Roman soldiers wore. This newest discovery came amongst a large pile of broken parts and pieces from pilum and other artillery weapons. I was digging through some of the dirt when my trowel suddenly hit a metal object. I began to clear the dirt aside and found a golden object within the pile."

"And what was the object?"

"It was a shield from the 4th Century AD, so towards the end of the Roman occupation of Britain, but that wasn't what was fascinating about it. The shield was perfectly preserved and incredibly strong. It had not only survived in the ground in perfect condition, but it was completely undented from our archeological work. Later on, when one of the students accidentally scraped it, there was no trace of a scratch anywhere. I would normally be hesitant to say it, but the shield appears to be indestructable."

"Older listeners will remember that report of the discovery of a remarkable shield in Vindolanda, which has unfortunately gone missing. Well, William Fraser and his team have recently made a new discovery; the ruins of an old Norse village dated to the 9th Century at the foot of Arthur's Seat. We turn now to John Macallister, chief excavator on the Steinhove project."

Tom tuned them out and looked at the road signs. If he turned off now, at Carlisle, he could make a detour across the country to Edinburgh, visit the site, and then drive on to Glasgow and still arrive on time. "Let's do it," he smiled, and set off down a minor road towards Edinburgh. He had some things to see, after all, but little did he realise things were about to go wacky again.

It took a fair amount of driving, but Tom finally arrived at the archeological site where the village had been found. It was all reminisiscient of Yorvik, the ancient Viking town that had been discovered lying underneath the city of York. But this was an unexpected development. Somehow, the name Steinhove seemed familiar to him. But he went in to see what was going on.

The area was a flurry of activity. Men hustled and shouted, moving heavy objects around, and they were hard at work digging things up and stabilising ruins. None of the buildings stood any more, of course, but their land and plots could be clearly discerned with the naked eye, making them easy to find. Nearby, a man was being interviewed by the BBC.

"Why is this discovery so extraordinary?" the news reporter asked. "Didn't the Vikings settle much of Scotland?"

"They did," the man, presumably an archeologist, replied. "However, this find is extraordinary as it's the first evidence of a permanent Viking settlement on the East Coast of Scotland. Up to this point, we had no evidence that the Vikings settled here. That's not the most odd thing though."

"What is the odd thing?"

"Many of the skeletons we've found are of ponies, and not ones native to our islands. This would suggest that the Vikings had the capability to export horses."

Tom found himself standing over the ruins of an old building, and was about to move onwards, there being nothing to see or interpret, when he suddenly saw something sticking out of the ground. He bent down to look at it. It was a small, dull, grey shield, the paintwork that once adorned it having long since faded from both the affects of time and age. Knowing not to touch archeological objects, he began to walk away.

A voice suddenly spoke loudly, but in a language Tom couldn't understand. The shield blasted him with something, and threw him into the pit nearby. "Oww," he groaned, sitting up as he did so. "What was that?"

He suddenly came to horrified realisation. He was no longer speaking English.

As he tried to process what was going on, he noticed most of his clothing had vanished. But this was not to be an issue, for as his body shrank to a lanky frame, he was covered entirely in blue fur. His nose and mouth stretched forward to create a muzzle, but of a smooth, curved shape, rather than the blocky muzzles most stallions had. A lighter blue patch of fur ran up the middle of his face and nose as his ears shrank back into his head, followed by them emerging atop his head like satellite dishes.

"Argh! What Sassenach would do something like this?"

The bottom of his jaw and the area round to his neck gained a small orange beard, and his hair grew wild and also orange, just in two tone (he also gained purple eyes). Part of it grew down the left hand side of his head, and was secured with a metal braid at the bottom. His neck stretched upwards as his shoulders and hips reshaped to accomodate pony limbs, and there was snapping all over the place as his limbs reset to put him into a quadrapedal stance. The remnants of his shirt remained, now a brown jacket with fur lining on the 'arms'. His lower legs were covered with brown cloth, presumably to protect against the elements. A black sling attached itself into place around his neck as the shield from earlier bolted into it. His hands and feet morphed into hooves, and a symbol of three interlocked triangles appeared on his flanks. To conclude proceedings, a two tone orange tail popped out of his rear, symbolising his changes were complete.

The magic from earlier, seemingly still around and well, levitated him onto the pathway he had previously been on. "What in the world?" he asked, looking over himself. "Ach! The hills be astoonded! I'm Rockhoof! Though I suspect 'Flinthoof' would be a more appropriate name, given how skinny I am..."

His attention was suddenly drawn to a crowd of people looking and pointing. He couldn't understand them, though. "Hello?" he asked. "I dinnae unnerstan' a word yer sayin'!"

Suddenly, somebody said something in words he could understand. "Are you one of the villagers?"

"I suppose you could say that," Rockhoof replied. "But I wasn't a few moments ago. I was a mere human, who had the misfortune of comin' across magical objects."

"This is all very strange," said the person. He then turned to translate what Rockhoof had said. He then turned back to Rockhoof. "Suddenly, learning all that Scots Gaelic came in handy. My parents thought I was crazy for learning it, but it sure has been helpful!"

Rockhoof grinned. "Slanche," he replied. "It's nice to know some of the old traditions are kept up these days."

There words were interrupted by a sudden rumbling in the distance. Much of the rest of the crowd were suddenly pointing in alarm, talking amongst themselves, and showing visible fear and concern.

The city of Edinburgh sits at the base of Arthur's Seat, an ancient extinct volcano formed millions of years ago from magma and geological uplift. There was supposed to be no activity from the mountain at all. That was what was so concerning, as without warning, the ground began to shake. Massive boulders flew through the air, landing all over the landscape, burning incredibly hot and melting the ground where they landed.

"I hope what I think is happening isn't happening!" shouted the Gaelic speaker. "Because that shouldn't even be possible!"

Rockhoof realised what was going on, as he had seen this happen before. "Get back!" he shouted. "Get back, all of you, as Arthur's Seat is-"

Before he could finish his sentence, what had been thought to be impossible happened. For the first time in 340 million years, Arthur's Seat erupted, a massive cloud of ash spewing from the top of the mountain. Lava began to flow down the sides of the mountain and run towards the city of Edinburgh.

Warning sirens began to blare all across the city, telling people to flee as fast as they could. People ran for their lives, trying to outrun the lava (which was flowing extremely slowly). Given there was no warning, the city didn't have a chance as a pyroclastic surge slammed into it, carrying buildings along like toys and sweeping them into the river.

Rockhoof looked on in horror as the remains of his village and the neighbouring city were swallowed up by lava and molten rock. He was powerless to stop the ensuing chaos, and tried to run as fast as he could when the flow caught up to him.

One moment he could breathe, the next he was being overcome by incredibly hot fumes. He could feel the heat burning him, and eventually he could go no further. He was to die here, stranded in a pony body, with no way of being saved or rescued.

"You don't get to die just yet, laddie!" said a ghostly Scottish voice. "You have important work to do!"

There was a flash of bright light, and Rockhoof was no longer there.

Author's Note

Hello there, and welcome to this story! This tale concerns Rockhoof, the last major male character to be introduced for this series. Apart from being a male character (and therefore not being possible under JimmyHook19's own TF rules), I've always found Rockhoof to be an entertaining character; the only Pillar to get his own starring episode, no less.

He's also a Scotsman, so that's a win in and out of itself.

The man speaking Scots Gaelic is loosely modelled on my brother, who can speak Scots Gaelic and is highly unusual as an Englishman who can speak said language. 'Sassenach' is one word from this language, often used as a perjorative expression for somebody from England.

...Say, could that Lad be I?

Rockhoof awoke in a flurry, his eyes looking around and darting across the landscape in confusion as his brain finally began to process what was going on. The world around him seemed somehow... different that he had previously seen. As he glanced about, memories of what had occurred last flooded back into his mind.

"You don't get to die just yet, laddie!"said a ghostly Scottish voice. "You have important work to do!"

The devastation of Edinburgh had left a horrible scar on him. An entire city of people burned to ash, and there had been nothing he could do. "I have to find a way to prevent another disaster like that," he said to himself. "But first, I need to figure out where I am."

He trotted forward, seeing that there was a sign up ahead, and on it words were written. Based on its placement before a sweeping valley below, it was some form of advertisement or description of what was down below him. He glanced to give it a read. But none of the symbols made any sense to him! It was all a series of random scribbles and symbols forming a meaningless, mashed together lexicon that made sense to nobody of his sort.

"I can't understan' a word this board says! Why does nobody write in Old Horse these days? Or Gaelic, for that matter?"

As he looked down to the basin of the valley, feeling the humidity picking up and the sun blaze in the sky, he suddenly spotted something and realised that he had been here before. Down below, he saw a plume of smoke from something climbing up the valley, and lots of small, white buildings.

"That spirit took me a long way, as I appear to be in West Virginia." He trotted over to a map, and noted where he was relative to something he recalled. "Based on my research, Mage Meadowbrook should be somewhere down there," he said, indicating a point in Louisiana with his hoof. "It's probably best I head that way."

Collecting together his tools and supplies, the scrawny earth pony set off on his way, climbing down mountainsides, and trotting down roads that seemed well maintained, but in reality had all sorts of technical problems as they fluctuated up and down. He also got the odd confused look from passers by, and he could also sense that something wasn't quite right here either. As he trotted along, he could get the sense that he was being watched by somebody or somepony, or something altogether more ethereal that he couldn't suss out.

The sun went through the full rotation and then eventually faded from the sky, settling in the west and staying below a star filled sky. Rockhoof felt more at home now that he could navigate by the stars. "Perfect! North star, guide me home!"

As he trotted along, he suddenly heard the sounds of merriment coming from a nearby log cabin, with a few things made of metal sitting outside it. "Hello?" he said. "This looks like a good place to stop for the night." He trotted in through the door, and with a smile saw what was ahead of him. Possibly the gentlest sight he had seen in years.

A nicely kept tavern was what greeted his eyes. Built in the style of the Long Halls he knew so well from his home, the vast tables were packed with ponies of all sizes drinking and sharing stories. The warmth came from a great log fire, and Rockhoof trotted in, as musicians played over the stage and the fire crackled gently.

"Good evening, sir!" called a pony, presumably the bartender. "How can I help you?"

"May I have a room and a meal, please?" Rockhoof asked. "I have been travelling for a long time, and could do with some nourishment."

"By all means, sir," the bartender, who presumably also doubled as the landlord, replied. "I'll get a room set up for you in a moment. In the meantime, here's the menu and a tankard. Beer and ale is self service, over by the barrels."

Rockhoof gave the menu a quick read, and selected what he was looking for. "Shrimp and grits, please." It was a relatively little known fact that ponies could consume meat in small quantities, and this meal would be perfect for getting his energy levels back up.

"We'll bring that to you in a moment, sir," the bartender replied. "Now then, take a seat at the tables, and relax. You look like you need it."

Rockhoof shuffled over to the barrel, and opened up one of the taps. It was marked 'hellfire', which was presumably a make of beer. He watched as the liquid tumbled into the tankard, and once it was done he shuffled over to a group of norse ponies sat near the fire.

"So, where'd you come down from?" the first of them asked, a massive wall of muscle and power sitting nursing a drink.

"I came down from the mountains, West Virginia Way," Rockhoof replied. "I've been on the road for a long time, and coming across this place was quite the relief."

"I can imagine," said another, with a wild brown beard. "Seeing as you've made it to the top end of Tennessee. You'll have gone through Virginia as well, which must have been tiring on your little legs."

Rockhoof sighed. Far from being the muscle bound legend so many fans of the show were familiar with, he was a small, scrawny horse that could barely hurt a fly. "Aye, it was," he said. "Which is why I could do with a rest. But this drink is nice. Good for getting your spirits up after a hard day."

"That's the spirit, lad!" said the third, another giant with wild eyes. "Why, on the wee isle of Barra..."

"Hold on a moment," said one of the ponies. "The band is about to make an announcement."

"Some of you may have heard," said the bandleader, in an odd accent that Rockhoof couldn't quite place, "of a musician based in Louisiana who has been taking the music scene here by storm with his fantastic tunes and sublime lyrics. Tonight, we'll be playing one of his big hits; 'Tale of the Traveller's Rest'!"

Rockhood was genuinely interested.

"This is one of my favourites," said the biggest pony. "It's very funny."

"There's an inn of old renown where they brew a beer so brown
Hurricane came rolling down the hill one Wodnsday night to drink his fill!

"On a three-stringed cello there played the Owner's pat so fair
The hornèd cow that night was seen to dance a jig upon the green;

"Called by the fiddle to the middle of the muddle, where the cow with a caper sent the small dog squealing;
Hurricane in a fuddle went to huddle by the griddle, but he slipped in a puddle and the world went reeling!

"Downsides went up- hey! Outsides went wide!
As the fiddle played a twiddle and Hurricane slept till Sonnertag!
Upsides went west- hey! Broadsides went boom!
With a twiddle on the fiddle in the middle by the griddle and Hurricane slept till Sonnertag!"

The floor erupted in dance, and Rockhoof found himself opposite a mare of his own tribe. As he danced the night away, he got a nagging feeling that something felt familiar about those words. The writing style was somehow very familiar to him, but such questions could wait. He needed to find out where to go in Louisiana, and who to look for. For if he was lucky, his destiny would be there too, as would his friends. Even so, something nagged at the back of his mind. What had caused that big eruption?

Author's Note

Just as Mistmane is going on her own long distance journey at the same time;

TLegends of Equestria: The Long Road Back

The conclusion of the Legends of Equestria saga.

JimmyHook19 · 15k words · 18 9 · 204 views

Rockhoof is venturing along as well. For those who are wondering, he ended up on a hill overlooking Cass.

That's the Way we do It

When Rockhoof awoke the next morning, the sun rising through the air yet not powerful enough to breach the curtains of the room he had leased, it was suddenly apparent to him that his alcohol tolerance had increased dramatically since he had become Rockhoof. Previously, small quantities of the stuff had been enough to cause his sobriety to cease entirely. Here, however, he was still perfectly sober and not experiencing any sort of hangover, or any other side effcts for that matter. He sighed, and rolled onto the floor, making a perfect landing on the floor with his hooves. As landing on any other part of his body would have been not fortuitous, and this rather painful and pointless, Rockhoof's landing was therefore a good thing. Heh. Rockhoof's landing. Sounds like the name of a land in a theme park.

Even so, we are getting rather off topic. Downstairs, the musicians had already gotten started, playing the same song from last night.

"There's an inn of old renown where they brew a beer so brown
Hurricane came rolling down the hill one Wodnsday night to drink his fill!

"On a three-stringed cello there played the Owner's pat so fair
The hornèd cow that night was seen to dance a jig upon the green;"

"Do they ever play anything else?" Rockhoof grumbled, as he gathered together his supplies. "I hope they play bagpipes or a hurdy gurdy at some point! Both are magnificent instruments!"

As he made his merry way down the stairs, the music got louder. And louder as he approached the musicians who were still playing.

Called by the fiddle to the middle of the muddle, where the cow with a caper sent the small dog squealing;
Hurricane in a fuddle went to huddle by the griddle, but he slipped in a puddle and the world went reeling!

"On a three-stringed cello there played the Owner's pat so fair
The hornèd cow that night was seen to dance a jig upon the green;
Called by the fiddle to the middle of the muddle, where the cow with a caper sent the small dog squealing;
Hurricane in a fuddle went to huddle by the griddle, but he slipped in a puddle and the world went reeling!

By now, the musicians were playing very loudly, and Rockhoof was worried his eardrums would burst if he stood there any longer. He dashed over to the bar, and handed the bartender some coins for his room the previous night.

"Thank you for your custom," the bartender replied, as loudly as he could given the musicians playing louder than normal. "It's not often we see old kroner around here. Where did you find them? Only Mighty Helm Members use these!"

"I had them on my per- pony," Rockhoof stumbled, trying to ensure nobody spotted his mistake. As much as he was a pony now, he still seemed to have partial thoughts and knowledge left over from being a human, which got in the way of a lot of things.

Suddenly, things took a dramatic turn in the main dining area behind them. A pony seemingly irritated another, and he was thrown through the air and into a wall display. Luckily, he didn't stick to it, but he brought the wall down with him and its trophies.

"Watch it!" the owner called. "It took me years to collect that lot!"

"Watch this, lads!" shouted the one who had been thrown, and he sprinted forward with a shovel. With a single effort, he scooped the other pony up and threw them through the air like old dirt. This pony smashed through a table. The table must have been exceptionally flimsy, as normally landing on a table like that would have broken the pony, not the table. The room erupted in confusion, the band suddenly switching to an old sea shanty as things escalated to ridiculous degrees. Another flew through the bar and went sliding onto the floor. Beer kegs went rocketing through the air like missiles, exploding upon impact and drenching those brawling in alocohol. All the while ponies continued to be catapaulted all over the place by patrons and brawlers alike.

Rockhoof decided now would be a goot time to leave. Last thing he remembered, he was heading for the door as he had to get back to the place he was before. Mercifully, unlike Hotel California, the doors worked. Now that he was back outdoors, he could once more continue his dangerous quest to get to Louisiana, and find his true destiny.

Rockhoof was now outdoors, and ready to continue on his legendary quest. Last night, he had taken onboard what the barpony had said, and checked his position. He had reason to believe that he was somewhere to the north of Tennessee, which was right next door to the state that was next to the state he had started in, West Virginia (though this place was very hot and very hilly). Now that all that nonsense is out of the way, he took his map out again and leaned against a tree to look at it. He examined the symbols, all of them familiar runes he knew well, and began musing to himself over them.

"Now then," he said, his eyes glued to the map. "I appear to be here," he mused, drawing an X on the map. "And I need to get to somewhere around here." He drew a Y on a place somewhere near New Orleans. "So far, I've gone through West Virginia, and Virgina, and am now in Tennessee- ouch, it really is hot here even this early in the morning. I still need to pick my way through Alabama and Mississippi, and then I'll have arrived in Louisiana, where my destination is." He put the map back in his bag (which he had somehow acquired on his travels), and set off into the blazing sun.

Travelling in these very hot environments proved to be a lot harder than he thought. The intense heat bore down upon him, the sun oppressive and brutal in its intensity. Everywhere he went, smoke seemed to be rising from the plants and trees as he went on his merry way. The heat and the steam wasn't the worst of it, however. The air was extremely humid and horrible to drag oneself through, and he was beginning to feel tired and ill.

"I bet the desert is a lot better than this!" he groaned, as he pulled himself along. "But I can't give up!" he said, as he stopped at some water to drink. "If I don't keep going, Flash Magnus will have a laugh at my expense! I won't let that get in my way!"

Once he was done filling up, although drinking water from that lake proved to be a challenge with all the biting insects, he went on his way. Besides, if Flash Magnus gave him a hard time for overheating, he could always retaliate by mentioning his crush on Somnambula. Pointing out the all too obvious fact that Flash had feelings for Somny was always enough to ruffle his feathers (quite literally, given they were both pegasi).

The landscape slowly began to change from creeks and enclosed streams to wide rolling lands and tall mountains that seemed to scrape the roof of the sky with their immense power and scale. To see such a sight was spectacular, and no doubt what had drawn the original settlers of this land to the area. However, Rockhoof couldn't help but feel that things were oddly silent. Since setting off from the tavern, he hadn't seen a single other living soul anywhere. He continued on his way, looking about as best he could for any trouble.

It didn't take long for trouble to find him. Before long, he came across some very badly burnt ground, full of fire and smoke. Crops burned and building ruins smouldered in the distance, and a smoky pale as tall as the Empire State Building climbing into the air, making it visible for miles.

"What happened here?" Rockhoof asked. "Who, or what, did this?"

Suddenly, there was a loud scream and another jet of flame shot across the landscape. A massive blue dragon flew through the sky and landed before Rockhoof. He was absolutely enormous, reaching almost to the top of the clouds. His horns were so massive they looped down the sides of his face (one had a golden ring on it), and his cold orange eyes stared down from atop a massive head fitted with a jaw big enough to swallow an aircraft carrier. He also wore heavy dark blue armour, his wings slotting through the gaps in the plates.

Rockhoof gulped. "Thor help us," he said.

Author's Note

Introducing the antagonist for this segment; Lord Torch!

Given how a lot of the terrain of that part of the world wouldn't look out of place in Middle-Earth, I thought the Smaug allusions would fit perfectly.

The jor and the Dragon

The dragon sneered at Rockhoof as he looked down at him. "Well, well, well," he said. "What do we have here, eh? Some small grub who intends to challenge me? Good luck with that."

"You're responsible for all this?" Rockhoof asked, alarmed and surprised at what he was seeing. "All this carnage and destruction?"

"Indeed I am," the dragon smirked. "I brought about all of this, and there's nothing that the pathetic little ponies of this world can even do about it. Or those things called people. They make such lovely snacks, you know."

"What?" Rockhoof asked again. "This is a place where people live? I've never seen one!"

"Finally, you don't ask a question all the time," the dragon laughed, smoke belching from his nostrils as he did so. "Well, I suppose an introduction is in order. I am Torch, the mightiest dragon to have ever lived, and a being of limitless power. Nothing can stop or defeat me. Not even Flash Magnus with that fancy shield of his could see me off, only momentarily annoy me."

Rockhoof's mind lit up. "Flash Magnus?" he thought. "He's here, in this world? How did he get to this strange place?" He tried to move away, but found his path blocked by a massive claw in his way.

"I can't have you running off to any old place, can I?" Torch sneered. "You could get in the way, and the Benefactor wouldn't like that. As a matter of fact, he'd be very cross indeed. Not to mention Ember is being a pain in the shoulder again."

"Somebody has to stop you," said Rockhoof. "It might as well be me."

There was a momentary silence. Then a snort. Followed by a laugh. Followed by a bellowing so incredibly loud it shook the ground and all around it, knocking over another building and pulling trees up from their routes. "YOU? STOP ME? REALLY? You would make an exceptional comedian, Slatehoof."

"Rockhoof!" Rockhoof replied.

"You don't look tough enough to be a 'rockhoof'," replied the dragon. "You look small, weedy, easy to digest. Dragons have exceptionally powerful stomach acid, perfect for dissolving cows. A little horse like you would make a most convenient appetiser."

In that moment, Rockhoof knew he had to run. He had no weapons, and in his weakened state he had no chance of fighting this dragon at its own game. But there was one thing he was, and that was reasonably quick. And what he knew of dragons was that they were lumbering and slow. He sped off over the ground.

"Oh, so it's going to be that way, is it?" Torch bellowed. "Very well." He unfolded his gigantic wings, and started to fly towards Rockhoof, bearing down on him with all due speed.

Rockhoof suddenly turned to the left, causing Torch to overshoot, be unable to stop, and crash into a side of a mountain. Boulders and rubble rolled onto and past him as he pulled himself off the side of the hill, and his tusks caught another few boulders that bounced like basalt missiles to the valley floor. "Clever move. But not clever enough!" He took to the skies once again, and flew at Rockhoof, faster than before.

Rockhoof then had an idea based on his current positioning, and the prescence of a tree near to where he was. "Let's see him navigate around this," he smirked, and began to run round and round the tree as fast as he could.

The dragon followed, his wing beats continuing to pound the ground. Round and round he flew, trying to hold pace with Rockhoof, but he couldn't. Not only that, the world was beginning to look funny.

"Round and Round the Mulberry Bush, eh?" Rockhoof laughed. "You may be a lot bigger and stronger than me, but your turning circle is certainly a lot bigger!"

Torch shook his head and looked extremely confused. "I feel dizzy," he said, before suddenly shooting off at an angle. He crashed into a building... and through it... and eventually landed on a hill side, groaning as he lay there dazed.

Rockhoof smiled as he trotted over to the unconscious dragon. "Sweet dreams, my friend," he said. "Now, I have to continue my journey, preferably without interference. I think the map said it was this way?" He pointed to the exit of the valley, which lay to the rough south west of his current position. "Right then. Away we go! Next stop, the Louisiana Swamps!"

Rockhoof was walking and trotting for some time. The heat was incredible, and the humidity only continued to rise as he went on his way. The sky grew murkier and murkier as he went on. There was much in the land and on it, the mountains slowly giving way to rolling countryside and almost empty hills. The towns and villages seemed deserted, barring one where people were loudly protesting covid measures as a breach of liberty. It was at this time that Rockhoof began to get a rather low opinion of some humans, given that some of them were incalculably stupid and seemed to believe utter nonsense. Occam's razor was a simple solution to this one. Rather than a relative with the disease dying in hospital because a doctor killed them as part of a plot by the Democrats to get re elected, it is more likely the individual died of the diesease whilst in hospital. Oh well. The election had at least proven that common sense had prevailed, and Rockhoof had regained some faith in humanity. He trotted onwards, the forests giving way to murky swamps and dark, hot tree cover. Steam and smoke poured from the ground thanks to the humidity, and there was quite a fierce smell coming from something as an alligator lazily swam past, looking at Rockhoof with suspicion as he went by. Then, he dived underwater like a submarine and disappeared from view.

Rockhoof finally arrived in a small settlement, full of cute wooden buildings (some of which looked to be in a state of disrepair of sorts). He heart a great noise coming from the biggest of them, with what sounded like music and furious fiddle playing. He went into the door, and through it. He was too small to bash doors of their hinges.

When he entered, he heard the last strains of whatever the song was that they were playing.

"Fi- fo- fiddle- diddle!
Fi- fo- fiddle- diddle!
Hey- yey- yey- yey- oh- ho!
Hey- yey- yey- yey- oh- ho!
Hey- hey- din- gen- do!
Hey- hey- din- geli- do!
Hoo- rye- and- hott- a- cott- a ho!
Hoo- rye- and- hott- a-c ott- a ho ho!
Hott- a- cott- a- hotta- ko!
Hott- a- cott- a- ko- cott- a- ko- ho!
Fi- fo- fiddle- diddle -hi- ho!
Fi- fo- fiddle- diddle- hi- ho!
Ho fiddlee- ding- galli- do!
Ho fiddlee- ding- galli- do
Hoo- rye- hoo- rye oops- oops- ay!
Hoo- rye- hoo- rye oops- oops- ay!
Hotta- cotta- hotta- cotta- mi- fo- fo!
Hotta- cotta- hotta- cotta- mi- fo- fo!

"Downsides go up- hey! Outsides go wide
With a twiddle on the fiddle in the middle by the griddle
but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!
Upsides go west- hey! Broadsides go boom! With a batter and a clatter
You can shatter every platter but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!"

Rockhoof recognised the pony playing. "Stygian?" he said quietly to himself. "What's he doing here?" He then decided to make his presence known as Stygian was chatting with some other ponies. "Well," he said, in a thick Scottish accent, "I've arrived. Am I still in time for a drink?"

That got their attention. Stygian and Mage Meadowbrook both looked over and trotted over to him. "Rockhoof!" said Stygian. "Thank the Stars that you're OK! How did you get here?"

"I had a very long trek from West Virginia," Rockhoof replied. "And had to face off with a fierce fire breathing dragon along the way. I am rather smaller than normal, so that was an interesting logistical challenge. I caused him to crash into a tree."

That got a laugh out of Meadowbrook. "Sounds like you had quite the trip!" she said. "But Ah imagine yer tired now. This here place has got yer every need covered. Food, drink, board, they got it. Now, if you'll excuse me, Ah've got some business ta attend to back at the shop, so make yerself feel comfortable and just relax." She and Stygian then trotted out of the door, heading towards a large tree with a hole in it. A rather oddly shaped hole, rather like a giant alicorn.

Rockhoof sat down, ordering a Hellfire as he did so. He had many questions on his mind. Firstly, what creature had caused all this devastation? Secondly, normally he and Meadowbrook (and Stygian) had had to communicate with the help of Glowpaz fragments (which he seemed to be lacking at the moment). So how had he been able to communicate with Meadowbrook and Stygian with no difficulty at all?

Author's Note

Well, Rockhoof has arrived in Hayseed Swamp, and it's time to introduce the last major ship of this collection; Rockbrook/Meadowhoof/whatever it is.

For those wondering, Meadowbrook and Stygian are from these stories (the events of the latter are referenced);

TLegends of Equestria: South Swamp Rag

Join us now for a tale of the Bayou...

JimmyHook19 · 13k words · 23 19 · 615 views

TLegends of Equestria: Rocky Road to Hayseed Swamp

Sit yourself down, and hear my tale. It is a long one...

The Blue EM2 · 7.7k words · 13 5 · 179 views

Shovel Night

Rockhoof had gotten the room he had needed to rest in for the night from the owner of the Hayseed Bar and Smokehouse, which he admitted he thought charged very reasonable rates given they were the only accommodation in the region (his being unsure about whether ponies were accepted in nearby New Orleans did leave Rockhoof somewhat concerned), and had spent the remainder of the evening getting his supplies in order. At least now he had something of a base to hang around at, and allowed him to stay in and put things together into a logical order. He took out a small journal he kept to record his many travels across this funny land, and noted something down in it.

Note: Dragons seem especially prone to centripetal force manipulation. If they fly too fast in a circle, they get dizzy and fall over. This could be worth exploiting if attacked by dragons again, so keep it at the top of the mind.

Rockhoof finished penning those words with his mouth (ever tried operating a byro with hooves? It's impossible!) and then trotted over to the window, sliding open the curtains to try and get a better view of what was out there in the world. There were lots of trees, and plenty of swamp lying about him, and not only that there was much noise and bright lights. Before him stood the limitless expanse of a giant lake, namely Lake Ponchartrain, the very thing which kept them away from those humans who caused them so much trouble. To his right lay New Orleans, and the glimmering lights eminated from the many skyscrapers and tall buildings. He also swore he could hear jazz music floating in over the bay and into his ears, though he sincerely doubted that. Either a band was playing extremely loud or there were lots of them playing at once, which he suspected would not be allowed given current times.

Speaking of music, it seemed as though the band had just started their final number for the night, based on the sound floating up from below the floorboards.

"Of all the money that e'er I had;

I spent it in good company.

And all the harm I've ever done;

Alas it was to none but me.

And all I've done for want of wit

To mem'ry now I can't recall;

So fill to me the parting glass

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befall,

And gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"Of all the comrades that e'er I had;

They're sorry for my going away!

And all the sweethearts that e'er I had;

They'd wish me one more day to stay!

But since it falls unto my lot,

That I should rise and you should not;

I gently rise and softly call-

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befall,

And gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be to you all!"

Those who were listening certainly seemed to enjoy it, as did Rockhoof. But then, he realised that something was afflicting him. A distinct thing all living things deal with; tiredness. He needed to get off to sleep. He removed his jacket, and trotted over to the bed with a yawn, before sliding under the covers and, seconds later, was out light a like. Sorry, I meant out like a light (apologies. Ink got smudged). That, or the swamp pop had made him drowsy.

The very next morning, the sun rudely floated in and penetrated the thin curtains, shining directly into Rockhoof's face. He rolled to the other side to avoid it, the sounds of birds tweeting still going strong in his ears.

"What time is it?" he asked, as he rolled onto the floor, his eyes only half open and still bleary. He could do with a wash later, and hoped that this place had washing facilities. It seemed so peaceful, the sky being blue, the sun being hot in the sky, the birds tweeting, the locals already playing their accordions-

Wait, what? "Do the locals never stop making music?" Rockhoof said. "I found bagpipes hard enough when I was a wee lad!"

He made his way towards the door, when suddenly he heard a loud series of bangs, like a power transformer going haywire. He ran to the window and quickly realised they weren't faulty power, but something altogether more nefarious.

A group of mysterious men were advancing towards the village and opening fire. "Go! Go!" shouted their leader. "Take the town and get the artefacts! Eliminate the Pillars along the way if you can!"

There was a loud ringing of bells from various buildings. "Turn out the Guard! Turn out the Guard!"

In that moment, a group of ponies, at least thirty strong, emerged from various places and took up position, their heavy muskets lain into position and ready for use. As the enemy approached, still firing off the odd warning shot, they reached a prime position for the ambush to be sprung.

The enemy crossed the threshold. It was time.

"FIRE!"

With a loud crack, the muskets discharged, a vast wall of bullets flying through the air and towards the enemy. Quite a few shots missed, but such was the volume of fire that some would hit, the guns being a mighty area denial weapon. Several went down in a volley of fire like dominoes.

"Return fire!" the big human bellowed. The soldiers stopped, dived to the ground, and opened fire. Their weapons were considerably newer, and as a result were more accurate.

"Switch to heat vision!"

Something on their goggles reset, and brought up the thermal signatures of the enemy soldiers, allowing them to shoot more accurately. Several ponies went down this way, as they were still readying a return volley. It was chaos.

They eventually got to fire off another volley, but in a firefight where one set of firearms could get a round off every two seconds and the other only one every twenty seconds, it soon became pretty clear who was on top on that front. These strange humans were on the verge of winning, and Rockhoof knew he had to help. With speed and haste, he launched himself out of the window and landed on the floor. The only thing that could possibly have happened, fortunately, happened, and he kept going. He would pay the owner back for the damaged window at a later date, but it was hardly at the top of his list of priorities right now. He made his way towards the tree. Something he had noticed in that area was that there was a place filled with water to act as an emergency defence mechanism. He reasoned that if he could trigger it, he would be able to, at the very least, swing things a little bit in favour of the ponies. He ran at the giant marker that controlled the release gate, took the rope secured to the front with his mouth, and pulled hard.

Nothing happened. The gate didn't shift.

"Come on!" he growled through gritted teeth. "Move, you stupid thing, move!"

But still the gate would not budge. Rockhoof would need a bit of extra leverage, and then he saw it. Sitting nearby was a large shovel. It was a fairly plain, large, unnasuming shovel, with a metal head and a wooden arm on which the head sat and could be put into the ground (which Rockhoof had earlier landed on), but it was a shovel nontheless, and it could give him the extra leverage required to open the gate. He grabbed it in his teeth, dropped down to the bottom of the gate, and jammed the front of the head under the gate. He lifted, and he lifted, and he lifted with all the strength he could muster, trying and straining to get the gate open.

"Maybe if I was stronger!" he growled, the strain starting to get to him.

But then, there was a bright and sudden flash that surrounded him. With a massive boom, the shovel was suddenly as tough as titanium, and the gate swung upwards with such force it nearlt flew off its hinges. Water rushed down the tidal valley like a thundering storm, ramping and roaring loudly as it made its merry way down the canal. The soldiers saw the water floor, but it was too late for them to move, and they were swept away into the briny depths and out towards the sea (or, at the very least, another section of the swamp).

Rockhoof clambered out of the water, depositing the shovel on the side of the land, and shook the water off himself. "Well, that was quite the adventure!" he said, before noticing the villagers were looking at him. "What?" he asked.

"Well, sir, Ah don't quite know how ta put this, but... you've changed!"

Rockhoof trotted over to the water and gasped. Gone was the scrawny thing he had been earlier, and before him stood a rippling wall of muscle and bone. He was so tall his head would scrape any doorway, his beard so massive and his hair so wild and flowing that he created a positively romantic image of a Scottish Highlander. His clothing had conveniently grown in size to match his colossal frame, and every inch of him was a powerful fighter, a machine ready to protect, attack, and fight back. It's the dead memes show, everybody!

Meadowbrook trotted over, and playfully nudged Rockhoof on the shoulder. "Now that's the Rockhoof Ah remember," she said, with a grin on her face. "Ya saved us with that act of bravery, and we need ta thank you."

"It was nothing, Meadowbrook," Rockhoof replied. "If anything, I need to thank all of you for agreeing to keep me in, rather than casting me out. Such a pity I couldn't save the people of Dunedin."

"Dun... Edin?" Stygian asked, who had by this point appeared on Rockhoof's right. "Where's that, and what happened there?"

"The volcano, which may I point out was extinct, erupted and buried the town in lava. If only I had had my strength! I could have dug a trench to lead it away from the city and saved it."

"Ah'm certain you did all you could," Meadowbrook reassured him, gently rubbing his shoulder with her hoof, or doing so as best she could given the now rather drastic difference in height between stallion and mare.

"And I need to write this story down and immortalise it in song- the incident with the water, not the lava," Stygian quickly clarified. "It shall be a saga for all the ages!"

"Again, I only did what any stallion would have done," Rockhoof said. "Say, have any of you seen Flash Magnus or the others around?"

"Who's Flash Magnus?" asked one of the villagers.

Rockhoof sighed. "I'll take that as a no. But I need to warn you all, that there is a grave threat to all of you out there, one that will not stop until all that we love is burned to ash. There is a great, fire breathing dragon out there burning the countryside, eating crops, and destroying all in its path. His name is Torch, and he is a most foul being."

Meadowbrook looked around in concern. "We need ta ensure that we are ready to defend ourselves and help others who need help," she said. "Fer that, Ah need ta head back ta mah workshop to get some new cures ready, as well as tonics to aid us in battle. Rockhoof, you can stay with me and we can formulate strategy."

"It's going to get rather squashed, isn't it?" Stygian asked. "I mean, I'm already lodging there. I have been for a bit."

Meadowbrook smiled. "In mah tree, there are many rooms."

Author's Note

Given Rockhoof's 'upgrade' in Campfire Tales was seemingly caused by the shovel, I thought it made sense for the same to be true here.

Mage Meadowbrook and Stygian are from, and reference the events of, this story;

TLegends of Equestria: South Swamp Rag

Join us now for a tale of the Bayou...

JimmyHook19 · 13k words · 23 19 · 615 views

TLegends of Equestria: Rocky Road to Hayseed Swamp

Sit yourself down, and hear my tale. It is a long one...

The Blue EM2 · 7.7k words · 13 5 · 179 views

Hayseed Swamp Hot Step

It was now another day entirely, as it often was around here. The world was quiet and the sky was still a curious shade of orange, made more so by the reflective qualities of some of the plants and bushes around this part of the world. As the sun awoke more, the sky turning more and more orange and gradually closer to red, the mighty giant himself began to awaken.

"The water is wide, I caenna fine go o'er," he sang tunelessly to himself. Rockhoof would normally have a fine singing voice, but he was somewhat drowsy and I daresay still rather asleep, which somewhat affected his tuning. As he rolled towards the right position to land on the floor, he suddenly rolled onto the floor with a crash.

This woke him up. He looked about himself, startled, and then dusted himself off and got back up. "It's a good thing these floors are sturdy!" he said. "Otherwise we'd be in a right mess right now!"

Rockhoof made his way towards the door, the floor creaking as he made his way across old and somewhat elderly floor boards, before reaching the door and opening it with his mouth. "Doorknobs that can't be opened with a hoof," he grumbled. "Who in Faust's name thought that was a good idea?"

He emerged onto the corridor, only then realising he was staying inside a great big tree in the middle of a swamp. As he glanced up and down the corridor, he then saw Stygian emerge from another room with a book levitated in his magic. The quill in his control was scribbling something down.

"What are you writing there?" Rockhoof asked.

"Oh!" Stygian lowered the book and looked up. "Good morning Rockhoof. I am just penning a narrative poem telling the story of how you defeated that dragon. It's not an easy one, I must say."

Rockhoof then noticed that Stygian had not gotten his cloak yet, and this made him look even smaller than he already was. "Can I hear it?"

"I've not written much, and to be honest it's not very good," Stygian said quietly. "But you can listen to what I've written, certainly." He then cleared his throat and began to read.

"In upswelled valleys, in fields of reth-
The dragon bowed his fiery breath-
But Rockhoof was not one to yield-
He smirked at foe; he laughed at death."

Stygian sighed as he finished reading. "I know, it's not very good," he noted. "The last word of the first line is only there because otherwise I would have no other world rhyming with breath, and to use the same rhyme twice in a single stanza is believed to bring bad luck."

"I thought it was pretty good!" Rockhoof said. "How about instead of 'reth', why not try the word 'mead'? They make a lot of alcohol around here, and that now rhymes with yield... sort of."

Stygian ran over that in his head. "That does work!" He made the alterations in his journal. "Thank you, Rockhoof! Now I must got and put this book down so I can get breakfast, then a shower."

"They have running water here?" Rockhoof asked. "That's a step above my old village!"

Stygian smirked. "They say it's 'hot and cold' running water, but they've had issues with the pipes being clogged by the swampy water, which means it's either hot or cold, sometimes changing between the two without warning. I'll see you downstairs."

Stygian went to put his book away, and then went to the stairs. The staircase in the tree was built into the trunk, and went down and round and round and down, all the way to the bottom of the tree and bringing him out onto the bottom floor. Hollowing the tree out must have been quite the job, and as he went down the stairs he noted how well cut they were. "Aye, a master craftsman cut these," he smiled. Unfortunately, he hadn't realised the floor had been polished, and slipped on a step as the world when sailing. He flew down the stairs and landed with a crash at the bottom.

"Ouch," he commented, as he stood up. Looking over, he could see a familiar face already working at her cauldron. Her mask was over her face, presumably to protect her from noxious fumes. "Good morning, Meadowbrook!"

She waved a hoof at him, presumably signalling for silence. After a few minutes of work, she was done, and poured the finished result into a dizzying arraying of measuring tubes and vials, ready for distribution. These were placed on the side where she could get them, and then she removed her mask, putting it on a hook so she could easily pick it up.

"Good mornin'," she said to him. "Ah know Ah look a right mess at the moment, but this needed workin' on. A healer does need to be on call most days, especially with mother not back from New Orleans yet."

"I must admit, I've never seen you with your mane down," Rockhoof replied. "I think it looks good on you."

"Really? Thank ya dear, although the mane does rather get in mah eyes. Ya wouldn't mind helpin' me get it into its usual shape?"

"No problem," Rockhoof replied, and standing behind and managing the mane as she instructed got it into the right shape, complete with her levitating the band into place that held the topknot up. "How's that?"

"Great, thanks," she replied. "Now Ah need ta wash and get dressed. We've got a lot of work ta do today. We have research ta do on what's goin' on around here, why there are so many dragons about, and finally who this 'benefactor' fellow is has been causin' us so much trouble these last few weeks." She trotted off upstaris, whilst Rockhoof laid out some books and texts, ready to start reading. When Meadowbrook and Stygian emerged, they were ready to go. Time for the reading to commence!

Dark Secrets

Meadowbrook's abode, for lack of a better word, looked an absolute mess. Papers, boxes of papers, books, piles of other written documents, and many other things were scattered about as they looked through them.

"Ah," said Stygian, "here we have a document on the travel passes."

"Travel passes?" Meadowbrook asked, confused. "When did we get those?"

"Didn't you read the memo that I sent you?" Stygian asked.

"No," Meadowbrook replied. "Ah was redrafting the redraft of the draft of a potion!"

"Most unfortunate," Stygian sighed. "Though I suppose they could get away with calling it Louisiana Express, as travel passes rather do fly in the face of the idea of British liberty."

"What's Britain?" Rockhoof asked, looking through another pile. "This is getting silly. This has far too much paper. It's like they're trying to do a deal here!"

"Louisiana Express in return for relieving us from the memo mountain, the document lake, and the punch card ocean," Stygian sighed. "Does the state department always smother everything in red tape?"

"Yes," Meadowbrook replied.

"None of these documents have red tape on them," Rockhoof said.

"Red tape is a figure o' speech for excessive beaureaucracy," Meadowbrook explained. "Government departments seem ta have loads of it for some odd reason."

"I may have something here, but I daresay it's not massively comprehensible," Stygian noted. "Hearg sylfum se Ponhenge, wir gingen weiter Toward dol grimlic of Fola Firgenbeorg user endemest scield. Das beste elements innerhalb uns kann Ausbreitung Licht und virtue, und ich kennt ponies Wer represent Sie alle." He looked over. "I do apologise. My old Ponish is rather rusty. But there is this document that I think will be of interest to you."

Meadowbrook took a look at the piece of paper that was now levitating in front of her face. "This is some text from the lost journal of Starswirl the Bearded!" she exclaimed. "This will be very useful for helpin' us ta figure out what is goin' on here!"

"I see," said Rockhoof, who truth be told had no idea what was going on. "Fancy reading it to us?"

"Ah can't read Old Ponish, only scholars can. Luckily, I do have this." Meadowbrook trotted over to her table where she kept many things, took the cork off a bottle, and ingested a substance of some description. After a few seconds of coughing, she went back over to the document, took a single look at it, and started to read it aloud. "At the Temple of Ponhenge, we kept going towards the base of Foal Mountain, where we will make our final Stand. However, there is every possibility that we may not make it back, and others will need to continue the struggle against the Evil One when we are expired from this Earth. To this end, these artefacts will carry a fragment of our power, for that will allow others to stand against the Darkness."

"That doesn't really answer much," Stygian said. "What else do we have to work on?"

Meadowbrook got an idea. "Stygian," she said, "remember when you were possessed by the Pony of Shadows?"

"It's not as if you'll forget your body being hijacked by some demonic entity," Stygian replied. "Did you figure something out?"

"Yes. Check this passage again. 'However, there is every possibility that we may not make it back, and others will need to continue the struggle against the Evil One when we are expired from this Earth. To this end, these artefacts will carry a fragment of our power, for that will allow others to stand against the Darkness'. The original Pillars lived in Equestria thousands of years ago, and amongst other thin's they fought the Pony of Shadows. However, he proved to be far too stron' to fight, so they tried ta lock him in limbo. But the spell went wron'! Instead of putting the Pony of Shadows in limbo, it teleported him and the Pillars to an alternate universe, the one inhabited by humans."

"Which one?" Stygian asked. "According to Starswirl's research, there are more than one thousand dimensions populated predominantly by humans."

"Earth 1218," Meadowbrook suggested. "The number don't matter. What does matter is that the Pillars knew that the time would eventually come when they could no longer continue the fight themselves, so they imbued fragments of their power into their artefacts. This would give others who found them the ability to stand against him. But they put this world in terrible danger, and I believe the Pony of Shadows is back fer revenge."

"Indeed he is," Rockhoof noted sagely, "if the video recording of the being in action was anything to go by, he seems to be a most severe threat. Just what is he capable of, exactly?"

"When he possessed me, he was very weak, and yet he was able to overhelm the Native Guard and badly damage several buildings," Stygian said, looking towards the floor in shame. "And then those men turned up yesterday and attacked the place. I wonder if there's a connection."

Meadowbrook looked over to him, her eyes wide. "Wait a second," she said. "Stygian, Ah think yer onta somethin'. When Ah were out there and looked at them, I noticed their armour had a number on it. 722." She went over to a draw and pulled out a dart. "This is the dart Ah found stuck in Stygian when Ah were treatin' him when he brought him in fer his injury. It also has the number 722 on it. Ah think they were both connected somehow."

"As do I," Stygian said. He brought out a document, as well as a big floating thing with a symbol like a sideways triangle on it. "These documents are reports into incidents that occurred in the last few years. The first refers to something called Southwest Airlines Flight 405, which crashed in the California desert in 2019, killing everybody on board."

"Not quite right," Rockhoof said, looking at another document. "It says here that one person survived. Then the rescue team found a pink pegasus. That was followed by the military turning up and helping to fight off a big cat. The officer in charge of the response was a Colonel Peterson, who was then reassigned to something called Project 722, set up by James Mattis. Whomever he is."

"Former Secretary for Defence," Stygian said to him.

"Then we have this report into a train crash," Rockhoof went on. "An Amtrak service derailed in the swamps not far from here, but the report says that the lightning bolt wasn't powerful enough to destroy the train, instead merely knocking a rail out. The sturdy construction of the coaches meant that none were destroyed or damaged, but one passenger was reported missing and still hasn't been found."

"Ah vaguely remember that," Meadowbrook said. "So that crash wasn't an accident! Project 722 have been huntin' us this entire time to prevent the prophecy from comin' true!"

"I have another bit of evidence that may help, that reveals the fate of the missing passenger," Stygian said, floating the big device in front of him. "I shall press play now."

He did so, and the audio began to play. Unfortunately, he'd set it to partway through. He stopped the recording, set it to the beginning of the track, and hit play.

"OW! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE!!!"

A few minutes passed on the recording, with groans and cries of pain, all the while rising in audio pitch.

"Well, Ah'll be! Ah can't go anywhere like this, can Ah?"

There was another pause, before the voice, a Cajun voice, spoke again.

"Well, this is better! Well, Ah'll suppose Ah'll head there!"

"That was Meadowbrook's voice," Rockhoof said. "This is confusing. Are there two Meadowbrooks runnin' about now?"

"No," Stygian said. "Remember, Meadowbrook, the thing about leaving the artefacts?"

"Yes?"

"Well, the procephy of which you speak puts it like this; Two shall become Six, and the Six shall Become One. Their might will become unstoppable, and their Victory shall Shake the Heavens! The Pillars (the original Pillars) left artefacts of themselves behind when they arrived in this world, so that they could pass on their power and knowledge when evil once more threatened the world and all who lived in it. Those who find the artefacts are imbued with the power of the Pillars, and become them. That is what happened to those who found them. This explains the Two, as there are multiple duplicates of the same person in different places finding the artefacts and being changed. As for the six, I can already see two are here, and I've seen a Mistmane mentioned in dispatches across the country. This would suggest that there are at least three Pillars here already, which leaves us to find three more."

"But what if the Pony of Shadows gets them first?" Rockhoof asked.

"Well, Lord Torch and his units are already in the area, so I think it's more a case of them getting us first than them finding others first," Stygian said grimly.

Author's Note

References galore in this chapter to the events of;

TLegends of Equestria: The Sands of Time

I don't Sphynx it's very funny!

JimmyHook19 · 3.7k words · 41 23 · 1.6k views

TLegends of Equestria: South Swamp Rag

Join us now for a tale of the Bayou...

JimmyHook19 · 13k words · 23 19 · 615 views

TLegends of Equestria: Rocky Road to Hayseed Swamp

Sit yourself down, and hear my tale. It is a long one...

The Blue EM2 · 7.7k words · 13 5 · 179 views

TLegends of Equestria: The Legionary

How far would you go for Cloudsdale?

The Blue EM2 · 15k words · 13 4 · 194 views

TLegends of Equestria: The Long Road Back

The conclusion of the Legends of Equestria saga.

JimmyHook19 · 15k words · 18 9 · 204 views

Wandering Waters

Just as that news had ceased to roll, and Stygian's grim face appeared to have gotten stuck on his muzzle, Rockhoof spoke up again. "Well, I get the impression that we are here, and they are there. But we must do all that we can to help keep things operational, not to mention keep this place safe. The Native Guard, fierce as they may be, can only do so much."

"Indeed," Meadowbrook replied, putting a hoof to her chin (attached to the end of her muzzle), and sighing as she tried to think of an answer to the question. "Perhaps you could teach them some new tricks and get them ready fer battle?"

"The Mighty Helm didn't fight with firearms, or objects that shoot fire," Rockhoof noted, trying to think of his own solution in response. "But I'm certain that something could be tried, if nothing else. Our defences could also be reinforced with walls. I know the bayou isn't the easiest of places to navigate-"

"I should know," Stygian interrupted. "I've gotten lost more than once, and I only found Hayseed Swamp itself by chance. I think it was when I chanced upon Meadowbrook in a clearing, and then-"

"We already know what happened next," Meadowbrook interrupted, interrupting an interruption. "Rockhoof, you were sayin'?"

"Our defences could also be reinforced with walls. I know the bayou isn't the easiest of places to navigate, but satellite imaging and tracking of objects allows for enemies to navigate more easily. That's something we don't have."

Outside, there was a loud and sudden crash, and then some cursing in some tongue that Rockhoof didn't understand. Meadowbrook darted outside and said something to them.

"What's goin' on, Bubba?" she asked.

"The portable generator's gone down again!" an Earth pony replied, looking very cross. "Now Ah'll need ta sneak inta New Orleans and get a spare part!"

Meadowbrook popped back in, and shut the door. "Bubba's havin' problems with his generator again."

"Is that how you get electricity?" Rockhoof asked. A plan was forming in his mind to fix this very problem.

"Yeah? The only place we can get spares is N'awlins," Meadowbrook continued. "That means disguisin ourselves as humans and hopin' the potion don't wear off." She shuddered. "That's happened more than once in inconvenient places."

Rockhoof then finished formulating his plan. "Of course! I've got it!"

"Got what?" Stygian asked.

"The answer to the puzzle we're all trying to solve! I can construct a hydroelectric dam across the water flow into Hayseed Swamp, which will allow us to regulate water flow and purify the water streams in the area. This will also have a secondary benefit. If we can get the water flow under our control, the water can be used to generate electricity and reduce, or potentially eliminate, our dependence on generators. And diesel fuel, no less. Why not also have a transport system across the lake?"

"We'll still need ta get AC units. but yeah, this could work!" Meadowbrook exclaimed, smiling.

Rockhoof was nothing if not an engineer, so had a good idea of what he would be doing when he built this system. The principal on which dams worked was incredibly simple. The water was rerouted whilst the processing systems and water tracking plants were built, alongside turbines that could be used to produce electrical power. Once the process was finished, the water was sent back through the turbines and fed into the system, producing electricity and keeping the system flowing properly. This meant that they would get clean water and environmentally friendly electricity, thereby reducing the amount of diesel fuel that they needed to use and therefore what they would need to produce their power. So he got to work, digging out a trench and building space for the neccesary bits. He dropped in the parts required as he continued work, and put into place a multitude of safeguards to prevent the systems from overheating. Then, water was flowed into the turbines, and all was good. Water flowed into the small, basic dam (developed from a levee, which wasn't dry at this point), and soon power was being generated.

"Yes!" Rockhoof said. "We have power! Now let's link everybody up."

Before long, every building was linked up correctly, and even town speakers. To test them, Rockhoof encouraged a band to play, and soon song was spreading through the town.

"Of all the money that e'er I had;

I spent it in good company.

And all the harm I've ever done;

Alas it was to none but me.

And all I've done for want of wit

To mem'ry now I can't recall;

So fill to me the parting glass

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befall,

And gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"Of all the comrades that e'er I had;

They're sorry for my going away!

And all the sweethearts that e'er I had;

They'd wish me one more day to stay!

But since it falls unto my lot,

That I should rise and you should not;

I gently rise and softly call-

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befall,

And gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be to you all!"

Rockhoof was certainly pleased with his work, having just cut everybody's fuel bills by a lot, as very little fuel was now needed to keep the system running. Furthermore, ponies had economy, and he could be proud of that.

"Excellent work!" said Stygian. "Creating a dam out of a retired flood defence was a brilliant move, not to mention cheap."

"Indeed," Rockhoof smiled. "What comes next is to paper over the current structure in concrete and steel to give the dam increased strength and heavy support. This will allow it to hold in position and stay for many generations to come."

Target Intercepted

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Rockhoof asked, looking at a map spread out over a table. "This seems incredibly risky."

"It's our best shot at finding out more information, given our limited resources," Stygian replied. "We have received-"

"Who is we?" Meadowbrook asked. "Are their multiple Stygians, or are ya talkin' in the Royal Plural now?"

"I am most certainly not talking in the Royal Plural!" Stygian replied. "OK then, start again. It's our best shot at finding out more information, given our limited resources. I have received news that there is a convoy proceeding through the area to reach a military installation. The convoy consists of vehicles belonging to an old friend of ours, Project 722. And furthermore, it has been confirmed that one of the people onboard is Colonel Peterson."

"Isn't he the guy in charge of the entire operation?" Meadowbrook asked.

"Indeed," Stygian replied. "He is the brains behind the entire operation, and presumably brings a lot of the muscle as well. It wouldn't be possible to keep such a large operation going without some form of government support, as people have this incredibly inconvenient habit of asking questions."

"Well, accountability is about answerin' questions," Meadowbrook noted.

"And government, if the radio is anything to go by, is about not answering them," Rockhoof noted dryly. "Have you noticed how they always talk in circle and say things that mean nothing at all or don't answer the question?"

"Ah sure have," Meadowbrook sighed. "It's another reason Ah want ta avoid that field of work."

"If we may get on," Stygian said, looking mildly annoyed, and indicated back to the map.

"Yer doin' it again!" Meadowbrook told him.

"Sorry," Stygian said back to her once more, the author aware that he had to hit a specific word count today. "Anyways, this convoy is going to be taking a small road through the bayou that leads to a secret military installation that has been scouted in previous days."

"Good luck getting that lot through," Rockhoof smirked. "The terrain there is so squishy and boggy it won't support a vehicle's weight, and the water will flood the engine compartments."

"That," Stygian continued, "is unfortunately not the case. These vehicles are fitted with four wheel drive and are designed to avoid sinking into mud owing to an overall sturdy, but light weight body. In addition to this, the vehicles are water proofed, which will allow them to drive through any body of water and come out the other side high and dry. As long as you remember to close the doors, of course."

"How are we plannin' ta take them out?" Meadowbrook enquired. "Yer the strategist, Stygian. You read up on our foes and determine our best course of action. What's the proposal this time?"

"Indeed," Stygian noted. "Now then, the guns carried by the members of the Hayseed Swamp Native Guard, although large calibre and powerful, are not sufficiently powerful enough to breach the armour or glass of these armoured vehicles, which had plating reinforced with carbon fibre (clearly, somebody had a lot of money to burn). Our plan, therefore, is not to destroy the vehicles in combat, but to do something else."

"What, namely?" both of the Earth ponies asked.

"We need to simply pick off the soldiers! We saw in a previous battle that the muskets were more than powerful enough to go through their body armour, but they've brought out a new, reinforced version that makes that a little more difficult. To this end, I have modified the weapons slightly to be able to punch through. Not only that, we only need to be able to take them out and leave the key target alive."

"Colonel Peterson," Rockhoof said. "I have plenty of questions to ask him."

"You will have you chance, but for this operation our focus is simple; we need to focus our efforts on getting him out alive and back to Hayseed Swamp without any significant damage. Then, once we have him back here, we can start the questioning. How's the development of the truth telling drug going?"

"Ah ought to have a workin' dose by tommora mornin'," Meadowbrook informed him. "Assumin' it works properly, or else Ah'll look mighty foolish. And all mah work will get flushed down the drain, both figuratively an' literally!"

Rockhoof nodded. "Is all sorted?" he said. "If so, I suggest that we all get an early night. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

Sure enough, tomorrow had arrived, and the Hayseed Swamp Native Guard were in ambush positions. They had taken up various positions up and down the road in order to disperse their firing lines and make it harder for the enemy to see them. It probably also helped that they wore green uniforms that helped them to blend in with the terrain. This was certain, they thought, to give them a critical advantage when the enemy arrived. Not only this, they were now equipped with battlefield radio, an innovation borrowed from the humans and reworked by both Rockhoof and Stygian to accomodate the pony form (as the headsets did not easily fit onto a pony head without some modification). The wiring was also neatly hidden away, so nopony could see it, and they waited in the darkness as the enemy was nowhere to be seen.

"All units, bugs in bushes, over?" said one.

"All units, don't clutter the mike with idle talk, over?" said another back. "It could cause us to miss a vital link, regarding the enemy."

"Copy."

There were a few moments silence, and then suddenly, in the distance, they heard it. There was rumbling of engines as several vehicles approached into the mass of wood and forest, creating great big tracks as they rolled along. Each vehicle was painted jet black, and had heavy, thick plating on them, but otherwise closely resembled FBI or Secret Service vehicles. They must have been close to their destination, as they didn't seem to have an operational roof turret.

"Targets spotted, up ahead."

"Roger that. Right flank, prepare to engage, on my mark."

The vehicles got closer and closer, rolling through their centre.

"Steady... steady..."

The vehicles got closer and closer, rolling through their centre.

"Mark."

With that, the right hand side of the roadway erupted in a volley of musket fire. Supercharged and superheated bullets flew through the air, smashing through windows and punching through enemy soldiers, leaving not much behind when the shot had stopped its course.

"Get out!" shouted one soldier, and several leaped out of their vehicles and took up position on opposite sides of the vehicles, using them as cover. "Open fire!"

One switched on his thermal goggles. "Unable to get a trace! The heat signatures in the swamp are messing with the goggles!"

"Left flank... mark."

With a thunderous roar, the left flank responded to the order, bullets flying through the air and striking the enemy from behind. Their commander had detested this plan at first- shooting an opponent in the back is cowardice, after all)- but he couldn't deny the plan seemed to be working.

Whilst the soldiers of Project 722 were tied down dealing with foes they couldn't see, spraying wildly as they did so, Rockhoof charged into the fray. With a single swing of his shovel, he flipped one of the trucks over, and the others were soon tossed about like toys. The enemy couldn't cope with this, and soon had no chance of escape. Repeated volleys wore them down, and soon there were none of them left. The gunfire had taken a lethal toll on them, and they were now nothing but memories in the dust.

Rockhoof went to the last damaged vehicle and checked the door. It was jammed from the damage it had taken, so he ripped it off its hinges with his mouth. He looked inside, to see only one occupant, who matched the security briefing they had looked at yesterday.

It was Colonel Peterson, who appeared to be wounded.

"Meadowbrook!" Rockhoof called. "I've found the Colonel, but he looks badly wounded. We need to drag him back to Hayseed Swamp for medical and interrogation!"

Meadowbrook charged over, fighting with the restraints as best she could. Unfortunately, they had gotten jammed in the firefight, and she struggled to free them.

"Here, let me help," Stygian offered, and with a quick blast of magic the button released. "Now we can get him back to base for interrogation."

"We won't get anything out of him until he's in a stable medical condition," Rockhoof replied. "He needs medical attention."

"But isn't he the enemy?"

Meadowbrook had gotten Peterson out of the damaged vehicle, and looked at Stygian. "Doctors don't take sides," she replied. "Now let's go, before any of his friends show up."

Rockhoof led the way on the road back down to Hayseed Swamp, with the other ponies close behind. Little did they realise, a being was watching them from the shadows.

Shadows Rising

"Right, get me some of the bottle over there!"

"Which one?" Rockhoof asked, looking in confusion at all the various bottles on display.

"The one with the purple liquid in it!" Meadowbrook replied, waving her hoof. "Hurry! We ain't got all day!"

Rockhoof grabbed the bottle in his teeth and ran over to Meadowbrook, depositing it alongside the desk at which she worked, but also on it, or else the bottle and the mixture would have gone smash on the floor. Not a productive outcome, if I do say so myself. And that would have been very serious if that had happened.

For the focus of the operation that was being carried out was absolutely vital. Colonel Peterson had been their critical target ever since they had learned he was in charge of Project 722, and capturing him had become a priority. They had succesfully ambushed his convoy and taken it down, but he had been hit by mistake by a stray bullet, and as a result had needed to be taken back to Hayseed Swamp for urgent medical treatment. Stygian had been sent upstairs to prevent him from doing anything stupid (he had, after all, been questioning why they were expending so much effort on saving a member of the enemy force), and as such it was down to Meadowbrook to try and repair the damage in front of her.

She glanced over to the heart monitor that had been crudely rigged up a few days before. "Good, he's stable," she said. "Pulse is good, flow is good, vitals look good-"

"The only problem is the giant bullet hole in his chest," Rockhoof interrupted. "That needs fixing."

"That is precisely what this potion was supposed ta do," Meadowbrook replied, before she lifted Peterson's head and adjusted it in such a way that his stomach access was clear. "Here we go."

Just then, Rockhoof noted swirls of dark smoke around Peterson. "Meadowbrook? I think he's being mind controlled."

"Why?"

"There's whisps of dark some all over the place," Rockhoof replied. "And that' the calling card of somebody that we know very, very, well."

Meadowbrook, having finished adding the chemicals, immediately mixed together another concoction with her potion skills (doubly impressive when you remember that she was an Earth pony), and added this to the amount of stuff that was building up in the potent mixing chamber that was the human stomach. All that remained was that they had to let it work, and that could take a while. To this end, both ponies took turns to watch the prone and injured soldier and ensure his heart or anything else kept working, for if it stopped working that would spell disaster, as their mission would all be for naught.

Meadowbrook took the first shift, which allowed Rockhoof a chance outside in the sweltering heat. He sighed as he looked about him, when suddenly he heard a voice from nearby.

"Rockhoof?"

Rockhoof glanced up to see it was another pony resident in the village, who was the owner and operator of the telegraph office. "Oh, hello. Is there news for me?"

"Indeed," he said. "I bring a very good telegram indeed. Admittedly, it took a little bit of translating as I don't speak Old Horse, but the gist of the message is that the Mighty Helm are on their way to help however they can."

Rockhoof's internal spirits lifted. The Mighty Helm were his old band of warriors, and to have them by his side again would yield them a considerable advantage. "That is fantastic news," he said. "Wire them back, and tell them that I can be found at the big tree near Hayseed Swamp."

"Very good, sir," said the pony, and he trotted away, ready to collect more telegrams.

Rockhoof was left collecting his own thoughts and feelings. The world did move in mysterious ways, he thought, and this was certainly a good sign for him. But what of the others? How had they gotten here and how were they doing?

Rockhoof was suddenly shaken out of his thoughts by Meadowbrook appearing. "Rockhoof?" she asked.

"Yes?" Rockhoof replied.

"Ah have good news. Major Peterson's awake. Ah had Stygian cover him whilst Ah told you the news, but he seems oddly... compliant."

"That's weird," Rockhoof said. "But I suppose that's the way the money goes. Let's go and interrogate him, and see what we can learn. I'd love to see what Project 722 is hiding from us, in this dark place."

When the two ponies re entered the building, and crossed the threshold that divided the outside world of Hayseed Swamp from the inside world of Meadowbrook's tree (also known as a door), and closed it behind them, and engaged the air conditioning system above them in the rafters, they were now totally isolated from the rest of the world. The Colonel, for all his reputation, seemed to be sitting there quite amicably, and was even trying to strike up a conversation with Stygian (who, unfortunately, didn't seem to be getting the memo on that front).

"Meadowbrook?" Stygian asked. "The prisoner was entirely cooperative. Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"We can take it from here," Rockhoof replied. As Stygian trotted away, Rockhoof turned his attention back to the Colonel. "Start talking. When did you first get involved in all this?"

"Well," the Colonel replied, "my first real encounter with any of this was on the night of 25th February, 2019. I was working late night at NORAD, tracking signals and other airborne objects, when suddenly the monitors lit up with crazy energy frequencies. I diverted an armoured unit to investigate, and the report they came back with talked of skeletons, a winged horse, and a large cat creature on top of a pyramid."

"That wasn't the end of it, though. It wasn't long until we started getting a lord more reports of these strange horses around the country, and around the world. The pattern was that most of them looked like the horses from a Hasbro television show. After the train crash in the Bayou, I was put in charge of a branch of the military that was dedicated specifically to studying this phenomena, called Project 722."

"Why the name?" Meadowbrook asked.

"Want to divert to public's attention away from something? Give it a boring sounding name." The Colonel paused, before continuing. "Anyway, we found ourselves being contacted by a mysterious entity who only referred to himself as 'The Benefactor'. We never saw his face, or learned his real name, but we got a directive from the White House to let him have full authority over proceedings. Then it all goes a bit hazy."

Meadowbrook suddenly made a connection. "When ponies, or indeed people, are mind controlled under Equestrian magic, a common side effect after they are released is that they cannot or struggle ta recall the events that occurred whilst they were under the effects of mind control. Ah'm not sure this lead is gonna help us."

"I'd be fully prepared to help out in any way I can," the Colonel suddenly said. The entire room abruptly fell silent as he did so.

"Sorry?" Rockhoof asked, looking confused. "What did you say?"

"I'd be fully prepared to help out in any way I can," the Colonel suddenly said again. "I may not be able to recall what happened, but I have extensive tactical knowledge, and there's a lot of useful data on my helmet uplink."

Just then, a dark cloud swirled into the room, and a strange voice laughed. "Loyalty has its rewards, Colonel Peterson!" the voice said, ominous and dark in its manner. "So does betrayal!"

The Colonel had no time to react before an energy pulse blasted through him, killing him instantly. His body fell to the floor with a bang and lay prone and still.

"You killed him!" Rockhoof shouted.

"What is this? State the obvious day?" the voice continued. Stygian suddenly appeared, having heard the commotion, as the voice continued.

"From your actions, all I can see is that you and your fellow Pillars are cowards! Lowly lickspittles! You must be emulating those wastes of flesh you call Princesses, for you are as feeble and useless as them! I am ripping this world asunder, and you do nothing! I see you hiding in that tree of yours, weak and pathetic. I am here, in this world. FACE ME, IF YOU DARE!"

The ponies looked at each other, worried and concerned. "That was the Pony of Shadows," Stygian said.

"Indeed it was," Rockhoof growled. "If he has that sort of power in our world, any of us could kick the bucket at any moment."

Author's Note

The following stories are referenced by Colonel Peterson;

TLegends of Equestria: The Sands of Time

I don't Sphynx it's very funny!

JimmyHook19 · 3.7k words · 41 23 · 1.6k views

TLegends of Equestria: South Swamp Rag

Join us now for a tale of the Bayou...

JimmyHook19 · 13k words · 23 19 · 615 views

Next time; into the final act of the story! Will our heroes prevail, or will it all be for naught?

Assault on Mount Talladega-Infiltration

The very next, extremely cold morning (although nobody had any real idea as to why this morning was suddenly so cold for no good and no readily obvious reason), Rockhoof had given an order for the Hayseed Swamp Native Guard to assemble in front of the town square, rather than in it for some reason. He was readying to give them a speech in preparation for the day's events, and also to run through the plan to get into the enemy base, which would be a long and difficult endeavour to say the least.

"Listen up!" he called, as the Guardsponies stood to attention as best they could, their heavy rifles starting to tip over. "I know it's cold, and that you all want to go back to bed, but we have an important duty. Only yesterday, we received news of a very dangerous threat, one that could well easily destroy us all if we're not prepared to face it down with steel and courage. This intel confirms that our enemies, the ones whom we have been fighting for the last few weeks, have a major military facility not far from here. They undoubtedly know where we are, and therefore we need to take the fight to them before they find us."

"What are the contents of the base, sir?" asked one of the ponies, looking up as best he could, although his helmet was rather heavy.

"Temperature scans have confirmed that the base has nuclear capability, and that their missiles are ready to fire at any time. This gives Project 722 the ability to destroy several cities in a single launch, which would cripple the middle United States and kill millions. We cannot allow this to happen, as if those weapons land, the radiation will drift across the country, and eventually to us. That'll be us wiped off the map."

"It sounds dire," another soldier said. "What sort of support are we getting on this op?"

"We're coming with you," Rockhoof said. "Myself, Stygian, and Meadowbrook will assist in the operation to infiltrate their base. In addition, there are hopes that my own unit will be available for combat duties as well, but I can neither confirm nor deny at this point in time. If neccessary, we will have to be the ones to carry out this mission on our own. Our objectives are thus; infiltrate the enemy base, shut down the power systems and facilities that enable them to maintain their operations, and cut off power and fuel to the missiles, thereby preventing them from launching. Do we have any questions?"

"What are our odds of coming back?" asked one. "This outfit started life as a defensive force, not a guerilla unit. I may want to say goodbye to my family in case I don't come back."

"Sometimes, a strong offense is the best defence," Rockhoof replied. "But yes, if you feel you must, I would advise telling your loved ones that you may not be coming home. But if that base is allowed to stand, we won't be around for much longer."

Suddenly, and absolutely completely spontaneously, the troops started to sing, in full, multi part harmony.

"Of all the money that e'er I had;

I spent it in good company.

And all the harm I've ever done;

Alas it was to none but me.

And all I've done for want of wit

To mem'ry now I can't recall;

So fill to me the parting glass

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befall,

And gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"Of all the comrades that e'er I had;

They're sorry for my going away!

And all the sweethearts that e'er I had;

They'd wish me one more day to stay!

But since it falls unto my lot,

That I should rise and you should not;

I gently rise and softly call-

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befall,

And gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be to you all!"

Rockhoof nodded in approval. "I always liked that one," he said. "No go, and collect all that you need. Transport will be arriving shortly, so there will be no going back for supplies. Good luck troops, and steady yourselves."

Rockhoof watched as they dispersed to collect other supplies. Now was the time to strike back.

Getting into the Mount Talladega facility had been easier than any of them had anticipated. Whilst the front entrance was extremely heavily guarded (there was nobody around for miles to suspect anything, and anybody who did stumble into the area was rapidly turned away), one place that could have done with beefed up security was the rocket building and the laundry chute. The laundry access was to the rear of the base, if we count the entrance as the front, and finding it proved to be very easy with the holographic map (or, as the men dubbed it, 'the magic coffee table'). In order to effect an entrance into the facility, they had decided to hide inside laundry bins packed to the top with towels and other clothing items. As stereotypical as this plan may seem, it seemed to have worked, as the ponies, hiding inside several of them and being sure not to make a sound either with their voices or their equipment, soon felt the wheeled trollies moving, inside the base, based on the movement of light and rock above them. Their eyes soon adjusted to the darkness as the world continued to roll past them. Eventually, the objects stopped moving. They were quickly pushed into another room, where the janitor left them and went somewhere else. Presumably the staff would deal with them later. Once they were certain that the janitor was gone and nobody was in the room, the ponies all clambered out of their boxes and stood on the floor.

"I'm glad to be out of that!" said one guardspony. "We were squashed in like sardines there!"

"Where did you learn that handy trick?" Stygian asked. "In all my tactical acumen and experience, I would never have thought of that one!"

"It's a handy trick for getting into and out of places. It's the one thing nobody thinks to check," Rockhoof said, spotting Meadowbrook clambering out of another bin. She looked a bit of a mess. "Looks like you got the dirty laundry!"

"The state of mah clothes is of no concern," Meadowbrook replied, dusting off her hooves. "What matters is stopping the launch."

"Speaking of which," Rockhoof interrupted, "our objectives are thus; infiltrate the enemy base, shut down the power systems and facilities that enable them to maintain their operations, and cut off power and fuel to the missiles, thereby preventing them from launching. Do we have any questions?"

"Yes, actually," said one. "Which way are we supposed to be going?"

"This way!" Stygian replied, and opened the door. They quickly scrambled and headed for the door, and opened it. They pattered down corridors and past pipes spewing steam (this section looked to be poorly maintained), before finding themselves at a set of stairs. "We need to go up to access the next part of the base. That is where the command and administration happens before anything else. We will also find the launch controls there. I want half of you to go to the bottom level. Rockhoof, Meadowbrook, and the other half, follow me upwards to the upper levels."

"Sir!" said half, and off they went, down to where the core silos were. As the other half went upstairs, they suddenly heard something playing over a speaker.

"There's an inn of old renown where they brew a beer so brown
Hurricane came rolling down the hill one Wodnsday night to drink his fill!

"Why are they playing my songs?" Stygian asked, worried. "Should we add copyright infringement to the very long list?"

Their work was short lived, as an enemy agent suddenly spotted them, seeing them with infra red and head vision goggles. (I am aware that they are not the same thing). "We've been infiltrated!" he radioed to high command. "All assets! Red alert! Start the launch sequence!"

Author's Note

The layout of the bunker is loosely inspired by Kelvedon Hatch, a surviving Cold War bunker in Essex. Elements of other facilities, such as the Delta Zero-One nuclear launch complex in South Dakota and Site 571-7 in Arizona, have also been added.

Assault on Mount Talladega-Running with the Reckless

Inside the launch control room, neither member of personnel had been expecting anything unusual to happen. Being assigned to launch control duty was just another part of daily life on this base, just as it had been during the Cold War 40 years earlier. Neither of them assumed that anything would happen, so they often brought reading material or other things to do whilst in there, as the shifts were long and they only needed to check a panel every now and then.

Indeed, the messy stuff was down to the launch technicians. They were the ones who had to handle the dinitrogren tetroxide and aerozine 50 mix that comprised the fuel load for the missile. That stuff was pretty nasty, so the uniforms they wore usually contained lots of patching to cover holes and gaps where the suits had torn or suffered other forms of damage. Men on the base had occassionally questioned why such an antiquated launch system was in use in this day and age, but the simple reason was protection.

This older launch system relied on very basic targeting, telemetry, and tracking systems, unlike more modern bases which could be more affected by EMPs. This kit could continue operating through practically anything, be it hurricane, tornado, or even a nuclear strike. The silos had several missiles, and each could be manually retargeted to strike a different area.

But it's not as if anything was going to happen. After all, the entire point of nuclear missiles is that you have them so that your opponent doesn't use them. Mutually Assured Destruction, and all that. So, as you can probably imagine, both men were rather startled when a siren began going off in the room. The door bulkheads slammed shut, and the air filtration system kicked into gear as the doors locked.

"Launch procedure!" called the main operator. "They actually ordered it."

Seconds later, a series of morse code beeps entered over the radio. The secondary operator noted down the numbers on a piece of paper. "Three- Seven- Two- Four- One- Five- Seven. Two- Nine- Five- Eight- Nine- Five- Four- Seven. Six- Seven- Six- Eight- Four- Five- One. Five- Two- Four- Nine- Eight- Six- Three. Four- Two- Four- Six- Seven- Eight- Six."

The two men then swapped code books. "Check numbers. Three- Seven- Two- Four- One- Five- Seven."

"Check."

"Two- Nine- Five- Eight- Nine- Five- Four- Seven."

"Check."

"Six- Seven- Six- Eight- Four- Five- One."

"Check."

"Five- Two- Four- Nine- Eight- Six- Three."

"Check."

"Four- Two- Four- Six- Seven- Eight- Six."

"Check. All numbers check."

The lead operator pressed another button on his console. "Numbers check. Awaiting target coordinates for launch."

The console started beeing again, as a fresh set of morse code signals were fed to them. The secondary operator typed out the numbers and letters as accurately as possible, with no errors as far as he could see.

"30.2241° N, 92.0198° W."

"Copy." They swapped reference books again. "Check coordinates. 30.2241° N, 92.0198° W."

"Check. Coordinates check out." The lead operator pressed another button, this time confirming that the launch coordinates had been received succesfully. "Move to stage 2."

On the other side of the room sat a pair of terminals with several extra buttons and key slots in them. These were the most powerful desks in their arsenal, and this statement may sound ridiculous, but there is plenty of truth to it. For these were the launch control tables.

The lead operator opened the locker, and handed a launch key to his subordinate. "Take desk 2."

"Sir."

Both men walked calmly to the desks, and sat down at them. Both desks were positioned in such a way that one man could not turn both sets of keys at once. Furthermore, both keys had to be turned within half a second of each other, to prevent one man turning one key, walking over to the other desk, and turning the other, as this would cause the launch system to lock up.

"Insert launch keys."

Both men inserted the keys into the holes where they were meant to go.

"Rotate on my word. Three, Two, One, rotate."

Both keys were turned at the same time. A light illuminated on the console telling them the fuelling valves were open and the silo doors were opening. Seconds later, another light switched on, confirming main engine start. A giant roar started up in the facility as the missile began to lift off.

"Launch underway." The lead operator wiped his forehead. "May God be with us all."

Whilst all that nonsense was going on (although to call it nonsense is perhaps a little inappropriate given that the consequences of that act were potentially dire), Rockhoof and company were busy trying to figure out what to do in this case. The constant noise blaring over the speakers, which had for some reason been triggered by the staff as noise pollution, didn't massively help.

"Mare from off the dresser pranced, found a colt and gaily danced!
Ponies neighed and champed their bits, for Emperor Hurricane had lost his wits!

Well, cow jumped over, dog barked wild;
Panzy lay prone and sweetly smiled!
Puddinghead cried 'Play faster, Pat!'
Because we all want to dance like that!"

"Gambol and totter till you're hotter than a hatter, and you spin all akimbo like a windmill flailing!
Whirl with a clatter till you scatter every cotter, and the strings start a-pinging as the world goes sailing!"

"Downsides go up- hey! Outsides go wide!
You can clatter with your platter, but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!
Upsides go west- hey! Broadsides go boom
With a batter and a clatter you can shatter every platter, But Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!"

"I still question how on Earth they got hold of one of my recordings!" Stygian said.

"That doesn't matter right now!" Rockhoof shouted. "We need to stop the missile launch!"

Just then, the entire facility began to shake.

"That doesn't sound good."

His radio suddenly flickered into life. "Confirmed fire trails emerging from the launch positions! The missile is currently launching!"

"Can't you stop it?"

"One second. The missile is still in its docking clamps as the engine gets up to speed, and the warhead is still inactive. If you can disable the clamps, the missile will fall and explode, but the warhead will remain secure at the top!"

"Which of these buttons does that!" Rockhoof shouted. "Shoot the panels and destroy them! See if that does the trick!"

The Native Guard responded swiftly to the order, loading their weapons and firing quickly as they set about their duty. Panels short curcuited and exploded as bullet holes went through them, and the noise from the speakers continued to echo, now randomly getting louder and quieter.

Eventually, there was a loud series of pops and bangs, followed by a broadcast over the speaker.

"Alert. Alert. Missile docking clamps destroyed. Missile unable to launch; warhead disabled. Repeat, Alert. Alert. Missile docking clamps destroyed. Missile unable to launch; warhead disabled."

"We did it!" the men cried, and started to celebrate. Too early, as the room flooded with enemy soldiers.

"Will somebody turn that noise off?" an officer shouted. Suddenly, extra sounds began playing over the speakers.

"Three- Seven- Two- Four- One- Five- Seven. Two- Nine- Five- Eight- Nine- Five- Four- Seven. Six- Seven- Six- Eight- Four- Five- One. Five- Two- Four- Nine- Eight- Six- Three. Four- Two- Four- Six- Seven- Eight- Six."

As the Native Guard opened fire on their attackers to try and drive them away, Rockhoof headed for another location to try and affect an escape route. They had stopped the missile, yes, but the bigger issue of how to escape still remained. Also, did they leave the base in place, or try to destroy it? The massive facility had no obvious power source or reactor to damage, so that wasn't an option.

As he made his way down the hall, swinging enemies out of his way with his shovel, he tried to keep a close eye out for anything that may help him establish where he was inside the facility. He was close to giving up on finding his way out when he was suddenly called out to by a group of warriors, all of whom were carrying axes, were dressed in thick, heavy furs, and wore silver coloured helmets with wing motifs and spikes set into them.

"We made it, sir," said the first. "Where do you need us?"

The Mighty Helm

"We made it, sir," said the first. "Where do you need us?"

"As I live and breathe!" Rockhoof replied. "Hello, lads! As you can probably see, we're rather stuck in this place. Do you have any ideas as to where we can get out of here? Because we're fresh out of suggestions here."

"We entered through an air vent," one of the Helm replied. "I must admit, it was rather strange entering through ducts that seemed to be wide enough to take a pony, but then again this place must need a lot of air to keep operating."

"Especially since we are several hundred feet underground," added another.

"As much as this conversation is fascinating," said their leader, "we have an important job to do. Rockhoof," he continued, turning (not too unreasonably) to Rockhoof. "As you're probably aware, the nuclear missile has been knocked out. However, we have a problem."

"And that is?" Rockhoof asked.

"The base has a considerable complement of missiles fitted with conventional warheads. Whilst nowhere near as powerful, these missiles could still inflict massive damage if they were fired succesfully at their target."

Just then, the same words heard over speakers earlier began to blare. "Three- Seven- Two- Four- One- Five- Seven. Two- Nine- Five- Eight- Nine- Five- Four- Seven. Six- Seven- Six- Eight- Four- Five- One. Five- Two- Four- Nine- Eight- Six- Three. Four- Two- Four- Six- Seven- Eight- Six."

Gunfire continued to echo down the hall as the Native Guard tried to hold the enemy off. However, the considerably fewer reports than before suggested that some casualties had been taken.

"Rockhoof, this is Meadowbrook, are ya receivin' me, over?"

"Loud and clear, over."

"We cannot hold our location. Enemy forces are too great in number, and we're runnin' low on ammunition. We need ta withdraw to another part of the base or access the elevator, over."

"Roger that. Withdraw. Myself and the Mighty Helm will finish the operation on our own. Out." The radio channel flickered shut. "Lads, we have a launch to stop. Lead me to where the other missiles are located, so we may take them out."

"Of course sir. This way!" The first waved his hoof, and they started off on their way towards the other section of the base. As they passed through the lower tunnels, it soon became apparent that they were nearing their target.

"Will somebody turn that racket off?" Rockhoof shouted.

They soon knew that they were close to their mighty target; the missile facility. The missiles, due to the intense heat and noise they generated, were kept in a part of the base that was sealed off from the rest of it to protect launch staff and rocket crew. The area was filled with pipes and tanks, most of them marked with strange fuels and other propellant that was presumably used to keep the rocket moving. Signs were giving warning about keeping back from launch bays and other sources of fumes, but the base finally led them to a room. It was a big room, filled with machines, and several of the consoles had illuminated buttons, covered in coordinates and other useful data. It was clear the missiles were in a launch ready state.

"Does anypony have any idea how any of this machinery works?" Rockhoof shouted. "Because this is all pretty ancient!"

"I can only assume that's why they chose it!" said another pony. "They selected a launch system that would be immune to the effects of an EMP! All this kit is from the cold war days."

"30.2241° N, 92.0198° W."

"Insert launch keys."

"They're getting ready to launch!" shouted Rockhoof. "Stop them from launching the missiles!"

"Rotate on my word. Three, Two, One, rotate."

"Launch underway. May God be with us all."

One of the ponies then had an idea as he glanced across the consoles. "I have an idea!" he said. "We can't stop the missiles from launching, but these machines are bringing in telemetry data and information that allows them to find their targets reliably!"

"How does that help?" asked another.

"Well, if we reset the data and change the flight data on these machines, the missiles will fly off course and land in the Gulf of Mexico! The explosions will be far enough out at sea that the water won't affect anybody, and the city of Lafeyette will be spared!"

"Do it!" Rockhoof shouted. "Get those missiles off course!"

Several ponies then began mucking about with telemetry data and similar, with numbers scrolling across the screen and being changed as they went by. One set of destinations then became another, and other sets of displays then switched to show new targets.

Suddenly, the thunderous roar of numerous missiles taking off in front of them shook the base, as the lighter load, but no less deadly, missiles lifted off out of their silos and into the sky. The roof gantries rolled back into place as the missiles vanished from the view of those in the control room, the jets of flame from the engines vanishing into the air.

"We did it!" said one pony, and they all cheered. "The city is safe now! Our work is done. All we need to do is find our way out. But first, some singing is in order."

"Of all the money that e'er I had;

I spent it in good company.

And all the harm I've ever done;

Alas it was to none but me.

And all I've done for want of wit

To mem'ry now I can't recall;

So fill to me the parting glass

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befall,

And gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"Of all the comrades that e'er I had;

They're sorry for my going away!

And all the sweethearts that e'er I had;

They'd wish me one more day to stay!

But since it falls unto my lot,

That I should rise and you should not;

I gently rise and softly call-

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befall,

And gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be to you all!"

"How do you know that one?" Rockhoof asked. "Stygian knows that and sometimes sings it."

"Are you receiving me, Rockhoof?" Stygian suddenly asked over the radio.

"Loud and clear, over."

"You need to get out of that control room, fast! There's something very big approaching from nearby, and it seems angry."

"Roger that!" Rockhoof replied. "Troops, we need to get out of here, right here and now!"

"Not so fast, you little grubs," said a voice. Suddenly, there was a loud scream and another jet of flame shot across the landscape. A massive blue dragon flew through the sky and landed before Rockhoof. He was absolutely enormous, reaching almost to the top of the clouds. His horns were so massive they looped down the sides of his face (one had a golden ring on it), and his cold orange eyes stared down from atop a massive head fitted with a jaw big enough to swallow an aircraft carrier. He also wore heavy dark blue armour, his wings slotting through the gaps in the plates.

Rockhoof gulped. "Thor help us," he said.

I see Fire

Rockhoof gulped. "Thor help us," he said.

"Well, well, well," he said. The dragon, that is, not Rochoof. "What do we have here, eh? Some small grub who intends to challenge me? Good luck with that."

"It's a dragon!" said one member of the Mighty Helm.

"The sky is also blue," Torch replied. "Care to state the obvious any further, mate?"

"How did he get here?" asked another.

"Never mind how he got here, ensure he can't escape!" Rockhoof shouted. "The silo doors are still open, so he may try to fly out of one before we have a chance to shut them. Any clue as to here that is?"

"The silo door control panel is up near the upper levels, on an access walkway on the left hoof side," another pony said, checking a map. Rockhoof had no idea how he could read these maps, as the words were all gobbledegook to him. "Seriously, who sets a base up like this?"

"Somebody not expecting a dragon?" suggested yet another.

Torch, however, had taken notice of their talking, and leaned his face into the glass, almost shattering it with his teeth. They all got a giant, uncomfortable, glowering look at his ugly mug. "You presume to slow me?" me asked, laughing with a massive toothed grin. "There's nothing that the pathetic little ponies of this world can even do about it. Or those things called people. They make such lovely snacks, you know. I am Torch, the mightiest dragon to have ever lived, and a being of limitless power. Nothing can stop or defeat me. Not even Flash Magnus with that fancy shield of his could see me off, only momentarily annoy me."

"Right, enough standing around!" Rockhoof shouted. "We need to get to the controls and seal him in here! If he escapes, who knows what havoc he could wreak upon the world?"

Torch smirked. "You do know I can hear you, right?" he asked, smiling still more. "There is nothing you can do to fight a giant dragon, you pesky, pathetic flies. I can't have you running off to any old place, can I? You could get in the way, and the Benefactor wouldn't like that. As a matter of fact, he'd be very cross indeed."

Rockhood hit the button that opened the control room door, and the ponies inside spilled out and into the main corridor, before entering the launch chamber via an access door on the side. They soon split up, with some going to the left route out of the door, and the rest taking the right hand door. Those who went left soon found themselves going up stairs, whilst the rest were confronted by a ladder that was very slippery, and seemingly covered in grease from previous maintenance or other such problems.

Torch blasted fire at some of them, forcing them to jump to a lower level. "You lot look small, weedy, easy to digest. Dragons have exceptionally powerful stomach acid, perfect for dissolving cows. A bunch of little ponies like you would make a most convenient appetiser."

"What is it with these guys title dropping the show?" Rockhoof shouted, as he tried to pull his way up the slippery ladder. "Oh, for Thor's sake! Getting up this is proving to be a nightmare!"

He began to reach the top, when another jet of flames hit the level above. This time, the intense heat and flames caught a pressure cylinder which exploded, showering bits and pieces of pressure cylinder everywhere.

"OK, possibly not a good place to go."

It was then he spotted something that ran from one side of the chamber to the other. From this floor to the other ran a cable. Two wheels were attached to the cables, and a bucked was mounted in below them. It would be very easy transport. The only problem was the bucket was on the wrong side. But Rockhoof was in luck. Not far from his position was a rope. This rope was connected to a pulley, and this pulley was connected to a cable, and this cable was connected to the bucket. He had an idea then and there.

"Draw the bucket over!" he shouted to two others. All three of them gripped the rope as best they could (which, with hooves, wasn't at all easy) and began to pull down on the rope. Slowly but surely this was pulling the bucket towards them. With pull after agonizing pull (the cable was extremely stiff), the bucket slowly but surely jerked across the room towards them.

Meanwhile, the others were now trying to ascend a fireman's pole, with their bodies trying to snake up it. This proved to be easier said then done, as the pole was seemingly extremely slippery, and covered with other materials.

"We could do with some of the grease from the pole over here on this cable!" said one pony, as the others made it onto an upper floor. Though they had to move very quickly from that point, as another jet of flame followed them that way, and it was very hot. They sprinted from the flames, which were orange and fiery, and the intense heat, which was beginning to melt the walkway in places.

"Talk about hot stuff."

Meanwhile, the bucket was, at long last, almost halfway over. Torch was distracted by the other ponies, so paid them no heed. The bucket arrived, and Rockhoof hopped into it. Having drawn it all the way over, the ponies now began to run it over to the other side. Rockhoof was there in moments, and hit the button to seal the silo doors.

Torch, however, was not so easily deceived, and flew upwards. The doors buckled and broke apart as he smashed through them, flying upwards into the air and roaring triumphantly into the night. Rockhoof climbed another ladder and looked forward into the darkness (many hours has passed since they had entered).

They were all atop the bunker, which sat at the point with a good view from Mount Talladega of the surrounding area. In the distance, Torch was seen flying towards a city. As he closed in, flames poured from his mouth, consuming the city in fire.

They all looked on, shocked. "Where is that place?" Rockhoof asked.

Stygian checked his compass. ""30.2241° N, 92.0198° W. Three- Seven- Two- Four- One- Five- Seven. Two- Nine- Five- Eight- Nine- Five- Four- Seven. Six- Seven- Six- Eight- Four- Five- One. Five- Two- Four- Nine- Eight- Six- Three. Four- Two- Four- Six- Seven- Eight- Six." He gulped. "That was the target of the missiles. Clearly Torch was some sort of backup plan."

Rockhoof was in a state of shock. He slumped on the ground as the destruction raged before him. "What have we done?" he whispered, too horrified to comprehend saying anything else.

"It ain't yer fault," Meadowbrook said, trotting over to him and trying to soothe his mind. "Ya tried ta stop him-"

"Emphasis being very much on the word 'tried'," Rockhoof replied bitterly. "History doesn't recall many people being remembered for trying."

Meadowbrook ignored his interruption and went on. "But what's past is past, and now we need ta try and achieve somethin' to help in the fight against Project 722."

"Like a message!" Stygian said. "Rockhoof, you said that Torch had mentioned Flash Magnus, right? If so, there's a good chance that the other Pillars are out there too! All we need to do is try to reach out to them with a message!"

Meadowbrook responded by tapping something on the belt that held her skirt on, and then selected text that read 'wide bandwidth'. "This message has ta get to them," she said, and she began to speak.

"Ta all receivin' this transmission'," she began, "We are all in serious danger. Project 722 is makin' its move on the world. As Ah speak, Lafeyette burns in flames. Please hurry. The Pony of Shadows has returned and is stoppin' at nothin' to take control. He will kill anybody who gets in his way. He tried ta take control o' Stygian and killed Colonel Peterson. Ah have no idea when he'll come fer either me or Rockhoof."

"Let's hope they got that," Stygian said, in a sombre tone.

"If they didn't," Rockhoof added, his face long and tired, "then Faust help us all."

Author's Note

Well, this is it. The end of another entry in the series, this one has a bit of a downer ending. However, if you wish to find out what the other Pillars were up to at the same time, check out this story;

TLegends of Equestria: The Long Road Back

The conclusion of the Legends of Equestria saga.

JimmyHook19 · 15k words · 18 9 · 204 views

The ending of the story is loosely based on the conclusion of The Desolation of Smaug, the second film in the Hobbit trilogy. Whilst not the best Middle-Earth adaptation ever, I thought the final action sequence was excellently executed, and so a reference was suitable here.

Thank you for reading, and mar sin leat!

Assault on Mount Talladega-Preparations

There was a quiet hum as a holographic table booted up, and finally the image displayed on screen.

"Nice piece of equipment, this," Rockhoof said to Stygian. "Where did you find this?"

"According to my source," Stygian replied, "this holographic map is of the same design as the one used in Twilight's Castle. The Cutie Map, after all, is nothing more than a giant holographic map powered by an ancient tree. This one, however, is entirely electronic, and is powered by that plug socket over there, connected to your hydroelectric dam."

"So, we can look at any place on the globe and instantly see what's goin' on?" Meadowbrook asked.

"Not quite," Stygian replied. "The map is a map, not a radar unit or an IFF tracker."

"IFF?"

"Identification Friend or Foe." Stygian paused, to let them soak up this information, and then continued with his spiel when he was absolutely certain that they had correctly absorbed the information that he had just been at the liberty of telling them. "Today's information was given to us by the good Colonel."

They all temporarily lowered their heads. Ever since the Colonel's death a few days ago, they had redoubled their efforts to fight the Pony of Shadows, especially given his dark design over the world. "So," Rockhoof ventured. "Find out anything useful from that map or your analysis?"

"Well," Stygian said, "I did find a useful chip set into his armour. Despite all the gunfire and combat a few days ago, the chip survived the firefight completely undamaged, and contains a full record of Project 722 data before his connection was cut. I was also able to glean some useful information on tactics and weaponry, including some they've developed by studying us."

"Can you show us this?" Meadowbrook asked.

"Certainly." Gripping the card gently in his teeth, Stygian popped it into the side of the holographic map. There was a click, a small whirr, and suddenly the map sprung to life with a roar, with colours and images appearing all over it. Data flickered over the screen and through the air, and text messages flew about like aeroplanes trying to find a place to land at a chaotic airport (or Heathrow on any given morning). Stygian looked closely. "Now, I know the data we need is in here somewhere. Perfect!"

As he said this, a series of letters and numbers flashed past him, all spelling out a location.

"Those letters and numbers are coordinates to a place!" Rockhoof realised. "Clearly there is a place of importance to them that we need to find and potentially destroy."

"OK, inputting that now," Stygian replied, his teeth clenched as he did so, making his words rather hard to understand. "33°27'37.6"N 85°48'44.3"W."

The machine whirred to life, and suddenly the map went whizzing along out of control until they stopped over the top of a hill, a whole series of hills as a matter of fact, which climbed high into the sky and seemed to scrape the top of the map (which, luckily, was a hologram).

"What is that?" Meadowbrook asked. "That looks like it's a long way from here!"

"That's because it is," Stygian replied. "33°27'37.6"N 85°48'44.3"W is the coordinates for Mount Talladega in Alabama, a mountain in the Blue Ridge Mountain Chain of the Southeastern United States. This particular peak is actually several mountains joined together. This particular one appears to be Cheaha Mountain, with the marker noting that the other mountains are also of interest."

"Should we try a ground penetrating radar scan?" Rockhoof suggested. "If plans highlight mountains, there's usually something hidden underneath said mountains."

Stygian pushed some more buttons, and suddenly the map shifted. The mountains went transparent, and the entire world below them was revealed for everypony to see. There was a massive base beneath the hills, complete with armouries, barracks, refuelling depots, and a massive buildup of objects producing a very big heat signature beneath the peak.

"It's an entire army base," Rockhoof said. "I'm impressed they managed to hide something that big in the middle of nowhere."

"Nobody ever thinks to look underground," Stygian noted. "Based on my observations, the facility was originally built for use as a bunker for officials in the event of a nuclear war, but fell out of use after the Cold War ended. At some point, Project 722 found the sight and extensively refitted it, rendering it able to carry out a number of functions suitable to their needs."

"Such as storing a nuke, apparently," Rockhoof muttered. "I can't think of any other plausible explanation for them clearly having such a massive heat signature coming off that site. Still, it does rather raise the question. Who built it, and why?"

"The facility was originally built for use as a bunker for officials in the event of a nuclear war, but fe-"

"I meant the nuke, not the base," Rockhoof said. "The base I already know about, as you just said. But what interests me more is how they got their hands on a nuclear missile. The United States doesn't normally throw those things around!"

"I think this evidence will help you on that front," Stygian said, and he moved his hoof to hit another button. This button was linked to an audio recording, and this started to play by itself.

"General, are you suggesting that magical entities are at work in our world?"

"Unless there is some other explanation for a man turning into a winged horse that I'm not aware of, that would be the case, Mr Secretary."

There was a momentary silence. "Very well, General. I'll give Project 722 the go ahead, along with the funding required and a blank cheque."

"A blank cheque? I understand this matter is serious, sir, but I doubt that we need to give them total free reign to do what they want. I think we need some form of oversight to ensure that they don't misuse funds. The public were pretty angry when they learned how much money had been spent on the F-35 and still hadn't produced a working, functioning aircraft."

"When the defence of the nation is at stake, money is not the concern. The effectiveness of our forces to counter any threat is, and that's why they need all the support they can. Project 722 with protect the nation, but the project must be kept secret, so that the public doesn't panic."

"Very well, sir. I'll notify the Colonel that the job is his if he wants it."

Rockhoof looked stunned. "So, it seems this may extend as far as the former Secretary for Defence," he said. "The DoD are tangled up in this pretty deep, not to mention billions of dollars of public money. So, any ideas as to how we'll get in?"

"I have a few," Stygian said. A giant arrow appeared over an inconspicous building. "See this nice looking country cottage here?"

"It would look nice, if it weren't for the fact it's in the middle of nowhere for no good reason," Rockhoof said gruffly.

"It is in the middle of nowhere, but it is there for a very good reason." The map scrolled over a bit. "The building is within 100 miles of the city of Lafayette, home to one hundred and twenty seven thousand people, give or take a few hundred. People could easily see something there, so it has to look innocous. As it sits right on top of the bunker entrance."

He switched back to the ground penetrating radar screen. "The building has a thick steel door built into one of its walls, and this hides access to the elevator. This takes people down into the basement of the bunker. The other wall houses another steel door, which leads to a flight of stairs for use if the elevator is knocked out. That descends for a bit, but unfortunately I cannot get any detailed images or corridor scans down there. They're very deep, and something is interfering with the tracking system of this table."

"We'll need ta find a way in and out," Meadowbrook noted. "Ah know that, as a pony, we're protected from this virus, but radiation? Ah have no clue."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Rockhoof replied, wanting to get a move on. "I would suggest infiltrating via the bunker entrance would be the best route, then start our plan once we are inside the facility proper. And for that, we're going to need some troops."

"We do have the Native Guard," Stygian pointed out. "As we have seen, they are very effective soldiers indeed, and ready for virtually anything that may come their way."

"We'll make our march in the morning," Rockhoof said finally. "For now, it is best if we rest for a while, and take the opportunity to brief the troops for what is ahead. I can only home that the Mighty Helm can come to their aid, or else this will be a very hard fight indeed."