Fallout Equestria: Desperados V2 (of Blood and Dirt)

Desperado’s V2, Chapter 04

Amethyst Sand (Part 1)

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Leaving Green Lake farm, the dry air hit me like a slap in the face as soon as we crossed the boundary between the farm and wasteland. Putting on a pair of goggles to keep the dust out of my eyes and makeup, I made sure to survey the land for any danger. Things like a glint from a scope and kicked up dust in the air, but all I saw was mirages all around.

"So Star, why the leotard?" Pyrope asked from the passenger seat next to Harp.

Again with the questions. It made me glad we left the Sparkle-Lurker behind, or he would have joined in on the game of twenty one questions.

"Ehhh, I guess I'm just used to it." I answered honestly.

The stretchy latex suit did feel strangely comfortable as it squeezed my body, but mainly it just looked stylish to me. Unlike Harp, I didn't feel uncomfortable trotting around with nothing on, though it was a good idea to have something on to keep the dirt and dust out of my fur and sensitive bits.

Pyrope shrugged. "I guess that's as good as any reason."

I then had a question for the bandit myself. "So, why the fuck are you guys out here anyways? There ain't much here to rob, actually, what are ya still with us? "

"Staking claim to old Union clan territory before some other asshole does. There ain't going to be no feuding over land if you make sure no rivals set up near ya." He told me. "On that, the town y'all are heading is that territory we claimed."

"Wait, Amethyst Sands is a bandit town!" I blurted out in surprise.

He shrugged. "Technically it is, but almost everypony there has taken on more legit work. Mainly trying to get the old mine there back open again. Ma says there's a rich gem mine deeper inside, but the old shafts haven't been maintained for over two hundred years. So ya, it's slow work. But thanks to Perception Cap giving us a good deal on crops, we ain't needed to raid nopony for nothing."

"So, wait, does that mean your old clan used to be miners?" Harp asked.

"E'yep." Was his response as he tapped the lanter on his wide brim hat. "My ancestors were the Union Workers of Surmount Mining Unlimited, and damn near every mine in Equestria was dug out by my ancestors."

I let out a long sigh. "Fucking really, those fuckers again!"

"What?" Pyrope Garnet said, looking confused.

Fortunately Harp decided to explain for me. "A while back we were hiding out in one of those stables. Turns out it was made inside an SMU mine, which also had a tourist attraction and a Ministry of Awesome lab inside."

Cavall let out a happy yip, so I patted him on the head. "That's where we found this little snake pup."

Pyrope looked concerned for a moment, then shrugged. "That sounds like something my gramps said about the old Union, maybe Ma might know more if you're interested."

"Rather not." I said firmly. "We ain't planning to stay long for storytime."

"You could stick around and show us a dance." He said back with a wink.

"I'll only dance if it's on your grave." I warned him.

Harp cleared her throat. "Star, realy?"

Rolling my eyes, I rephrased the threat. "Sorry, if I'm dancing, it's only when your not in any condition to watch me."

Getting the message, Pyrope finally left me alone, turning his eyes to Harp. My friend giving me the look of "just let me handle him"

"So what about you, we have this nice little spot excellent for dancing?" He asked Harp

She smiled back at him. "I don't think so. I mean, you got to show a mare a good time first, and we're a bit short on time as it is."

Pyrope continued to be persistent, the fool really asking for me to break one of his legs. "Well fortunately there isn't much to show, so no harm in me at least giving you a little tour. Real quick, and you won't even need to dance."

"If you insist, but if you try anything I might get mad." Harp said, hiding a smile and clearly just telling him what he wants to hear to get the stallion to shut up.

Returning my attention to the horizon, the distant mirage continued to ripple and wave. Forming oases that were just reflections of the blue sky. In the first few years after the day of sunshine and rainbows, many ponies died chasing these mirages, succumbing to heat stroke as they were led astray. It was a serious problem back then, since most ponies were used to the unending cloud cover and frequent rain.

But as we moved, one mirage was different, with the reflection of the blue of the sky being broken by hard lines of faded colors. Looking through my spyglass, I could see ancient shipping containers stacked two high like a wall, with a gap forming a gateway blocked off by a long and rusty motor wagon on rails.

"I think I see Amethyst Sands." I told everypony, then asked, "that is, if it's a town protected by a wall of old shipping crates, right?"

"E'yep, and the gate door is an armored up buss on rails." Pyrope told us.

So that's what those long motor wagons were called.

"Is there anything we should know before rolling in on them?" Harp then asked Pyrope.

He shook his head, "just the norm. Like keeping your guns holstered, not going and insulting the locals, and don't go stealing or hurting nopony. Oh, and if you do cause trouble, we bandits like to get even."

"Also keep an eye on your shit. They're still thieving thugs in the end." I warned Harp.

Pyrope shrugged. "Not going to say that's a lie. From what the ancestors tell us, before we were the Union Clan, the old Union was known for being a bunch of thieving thugs. I never understood why that was though."

Our pipbucks cracked as Slowtrot chimed in. "Corruption mainly. The Union was meant to give workers a voice, but when I was in one, all they did was take my money and ignore me. When I complained about them, I then didn't have a job."

"So, nothing new then." Harp said flippantly. "We'll do our best to not start trouble, that is, so long as your clan does the same. Otherwise, consider that offer of yours out of the question."

I cocked an eyebrow, wondering why it sounded like Harp had actually been considering letting that bandit show her around.

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Under the watchful eye of several armed ponies on top of a tower made from a long vertical cargo container, we rolled into Amethyst Sands. The place was a typical wasteland settlement, though much bigger with proper walls. The place reminding me a lot of how New Appaloosa used to look like before they remodeled the town.

Aside from the cargo containers forming the wall, and gate towers, the town inside was made up of several adobe buildings, and a shit ton of tents all organized in proper rows. One adobe building looked to be extra well put together, including a small open tower, in which had on display a strange sculpture made of many symbols that suspiciously looked like a mushroom cloud.

"Not bad for a wasteland town, even got yourself a church." I commented.

"E'yep, it's the first thing we built here in this town." Pyrope responded. "It's by the grace of the Goddess of the Glow we exist, so we must honor her first and foremost."

Right, a cult. "So this goddess of the Glow, do we need to… well be careful about anything?" I asked.

Pyrope chuckle. "If you're talking about sacrifices or other crazy shit, no, not at all. She is the goddesses of trials and transformation. Through accepting her and her ordeals, we are changed for the better. Or that's what my Ma preaches non-stop."

"So your mom is the preacher?" I further asked.

"And mayor of this fine town." He answered.

"Say, you keep saying town, but how many ponies actually live here?" Harp then asked as she looked around.

Pyrope sighed. "Well I guess it's more of a village right now. Last count there's over a good two hundred and forty nine of us here. That's including my Pa and the others on the mountain pass. There's far more of us back in our old mountain town, though once things properly stabilize here, they will be joining us."

"And where's that old town?" I asked suspiciously.

"Ain't no way we're telling you shit like that!" A rather thin and rough looking mare said as she trotted over, giving me a glare that strangely seemed to glow a slight balefire green. She was lighter dressed then Pyrope, lacking the duster and bandoliers, but had the same breach action rifle and pickaxe. The mare's colors were faded and blotchy, with clumps of her mane showing right when they turned a rich brown to a pure white. "We all know how you smooth coats are like, all smiles and sweet words, then come out the guns!"

"Smooth coats?" I said with mild confusion. "Lady, ain't that what ghouls say?"

Jumping out of the Smuggler, Pyrope got in-between the older mare and I. "Star, Harp, Slowtrot, this is Mayor Almandine Garnett, my Ma. Ma, these ponies just came from Green Lake and have brought us the food you requested."

The annoyed expression on Almandine's face then became brighter and more friendly. "Oh, if you put it that way, then welcome to the town of Amethyst Sands. I do hope this fool of a colt of mine hasn't been too much trouble."

Harp hopped out, putting on a smile herself. "Oh by no means has he been any trouble, clearly raised well by a capable mother."

Almandine trotted over to Harp, shaking her hoof. "Oh don't flatter me too much, or I might just keep you myself. But if you want to stay and give me a few grand foals, I wouldn't say no. Those hips of yours are clearly made for it."

My friend was then taken aback, blushing at the suggestion. "Th… thanks for the offer, but I have to decline."

The older mare sighed in disappointment in a way only a mother could. "A shame, with my colt now of age, and we needing to thin the blood, it's been rather a pain finding him a wife. And you look like a pony who would help thin the blood with how you look all. You know, being mixed and all."

Jumping out myself, and getting the attention of the hagged looking mare, I made sure I was heard clearly. "Before you push any further, we ain't here to be broodmares, so drop that line of thought!"

The friendliness dropped from Almandine's face as she studied my own. "Fine, but y'all must tell me why you, one of New Appaloosa's whores, are here. Ain't it bad enough that ponies like you tempt our stallions away from their duty whenever they step near that shithole of your town, now you must do it here!"

Fuck, of cores she had to be like an uptight house wife.

Harp cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "Just dropping off several crates of food, that's all miss mayor. Star is here as our security. So please trust us, we mean no troubles. Also, we don't plan to stay long, since we got business out west."

"That and having trouble with the pony's back in New Appaloosa. Our kind of trouble, so some ponies might come round looking for them." Pyrope further added.

Almandine rolled her eyes and sighed. "A day does not go by that I miss the radiation storms. No pony would snoop around our home since it would likely kill them." She then motioned at several locals standing around. "Go help the stallion unload, I'll take the mares to to workshop to pick up those fucking nails."

Leaving Slowtrot behind to deal with the unloading, I joined Harp in following Almandine and Pyrope to one of the adobe buildings.

"Miss Almandine?" Harp then asked as we trotted. "Not to pry into your personal lives, but are you all waste ponies here?"

"That is right, what gave it away?" The mare confirmed.

"Dealt with a few back in New Appaloosa." Harp answered. "One was the pony behind the railway restoration. The others were Blue Skies mercenaries. And I've found that you waste ponies have a distorted magic around you, much like ghouls, but not stagnant."

Almandine looked concerned for a long moment before nodding her head. "That sounds about right I guess. We're practically ghoul in all but being undead and all." She scratched a patch of fur that was all white. "I'm already starting to get old, and we waste ponies loose our colors before turning into ghouls. Like my Ma before me, and her Ma before her. But my great great great grandma though, she became a ghoul the old fashioned way, yet still managed to have three foals before her plumbing stopped working."

"And that's how waste ponies came about, I guess." Harp pondered.

"A good guess, but it's more by the grace of the Goddess of the Glow. Ghouls having foals are quite rare you see, being undead and all, but it was far less rare for the faithful." Almandine answered. "As for the others, many ghouls did travel into baelfire blighted lands to escape the persecution by the smooth coats. At some point the less mest up of those ghouls had foals, and then those foals had foals, and eventually there were a lot more of us around."

"I guess that makes sense if their sexile origins were still intact after ghoulifying. And then there's always the issue of magic, or the Goddesses of the Glow of yours. I wouldn't mind hearing more about this goddess and how she helps your ancestor's transformation." Harp pondered.

Almandine smiled wide, which showed off her nearly black gums. "I'd be more than happy to tell y'all more about us, and our faith. But what about you, since we're sharing an all?"

Harp flapped her diminutive wings. "I'm a mirage pony, a genetic chimera as some would say. My kind are more artificially brought about due to an extreme situation, though no less our own thing, much like yourselves. Unfortunately the wings and horn don't do anything, just a vestigial leftovers, but we can do some magic. Like drawing magic into myself, and powering tech with it." Order's eyes flickered as the drone let out a few beeps. "Including my drone here, much of our technology is based around our innate magical ability."

Studding the drone, Almandine smirked a little. "That's rather… useful actually. If we had your kind around, maybe a lot of the old mining tech wouldn't have been discarded. Power is, as you might know, rather limited in the wasteland."

But Harp shook her head. "Sorry, but I highly doubt it. When we draw magic into ourselves, that includes radiation. If we're not careful, we can easily kill ourselves by sudden radiation poisoning."

Almandine clicked her tongue in disappointment as she stopped at the door to one of the buildings. "Well that's a real shame. With how we practically live in radiation, it be like oil and water between your and our kind. Still, I wonder what kind of pony you'd make if ya did give me grandfoals."

"I rather not ponder on that question." Harp answered.

With a shrug, Almandine trotted inside. "Well, here is our workshop, the nails can be found inside."

Peeking in, it was one big open room, having different groups of ponies at work. Some making rope, others working on scrap metal.

"You don't need to stay here, it's mostly just going to be boring stuff." Pyrope told me as he pointed at another building. "It may be a while, so I suggest that building. It's our distillery and bar. The ponies running it should already know why you're here, and will give ya a free drink."

"And what? Hope I loosen up enough to get me in bed?" I asked with a bit more spite than I needed too.

"Hay, chill now. I already got the message that you're not interested. Just letting you know where you can wait at, since I'm sure you're not into watching ponies do repetitive work." He said in his defense.

I still didn't trust this bandit, and from what I've heard about them, though they may not be raiders, they certainly are not good folk. Still, they could be trusted to not harm ponies activity working with them. "Alright, I could use a drink. But if you or anypony here do anything to harm Harp, I will make sure you all live to regret it, you got that?"

"Clear." He said before trotting inside.

Turning to trot to this brewery and bar they had, I caught a good ten ponies blatantly watching me, none even trying to hide. Some on the roof, others just standing around, all armed with rifles. I guess it was their own way of telling me to keep my nose clean while here.

Entering the front of the bar, it was what I had suspected a wasteland bar to be; one big open room with hard dirt floor and scrap wood tables. The mirror behind the bar was made of many shards of broken mirrors forming one bigger cracked mirror. Strange symbols of interlocking circles decorated everything; from clay pots, lamps that projected the symbols, and even having them painted on the walls, some of which glowed a bailfire green.

All the tables were full as the bandits played cards or dice, many stopping to give me the stink eye. But the bar was mostly open, with two seats available, both next to a mare in a tattered armored duster and a black Stetson hat. Next to her and propped up on one of the seats was a big fucking rifle, which was about the the length of a hunting rifle, but bult like a machinegun.

Unlike the rest 9f the ponies here, she didn't quite look like she belonged.

Taking the other seat, the now clearly drunk earth pony mare next to me was nursing a glass of clear fluid that strongly smelled of alcohol and a hint of something sickly sweet? The mare herself, to my shock, looked just like Keep, but much older, and sporting a shit ton more scars. She was dark gray with a lighter muzzle, and a fiery mane of yellow and orange, though unlike Keep who kept hers in a mohawk, this mare had it in a long braided mane that ended in what looked like a scorpion tails stinger. Her eyes had a distinct stair of a pony who had lived for far too long and seen far too much.

"Here you go mam, one Blast Berry Whisky on the house." The bartender said, passing me the same kind of glass as the other mare.

Sipping it, the shit was super strong in alcohol, likely over a hundred proof, yet it didn't overpower the sweetness of whatever it was made from.

"Has a nice kick." The mare next to me said with a husky voice, the kind of voice of a pony who smoked all of their life.

"Ya, but it doesn't taste like shit." I commented before taking another sip. Letting the fumes of the whiskey fill my mouth, savoring the flavor. When it was done, I shivered as I let out a satisfied sigh. "So, you must be Keep's mother."

She let out an annoyed huff and shot her drink down her throat. "Ya, that ungrateful brat once came out of my cunt, and has never stopped screaming at me since."

Letting out a low but sharp whistle, I tipped my drink at her. "It can't have been that bad. I mean, little fillies are the sweetest things in the world."

"Not Keep, though it's mostly my fault that she hates me so much." She then waved at the bartender, who sighed and trotted over to pour her more whiskey. "Names Rook… of the White Scorpion. So who might you be, and what's your relation with my daughter?"

"I'm Star Charter. My friends and I are acquaintances of her husband, that's all." I told her.

"That cradle robber, I got a bullet with his damn name on it!" Rook huffed out and took a swig of her whiskey.

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Last I knew, he did seem like the foal napper sort."

Rook groaned, clearly not liking the subject. "You would think, but that fucker impregnated and ran away with Keep when she was just fifteen years old, and he's ten years older then her!"

I sharply breathed in through my teeth. "Ohh, okay. Now that sounds bad."

Taking another swig, Rook continued with what was becoming a drunken rant. "At least I stayed with the clan after getting pregnant at her age! But no, the first merchant she sold her body to, she ran off with. Then she dare calls me an embarrassment, I took my hits, and killed so fucking many. What does she know!"

I decided to not say any more, unless risk triggering what was likely a veteran mercenary with clear mental problems.

But continue Rook did. Ranting about things I didn't understand or care about. But one thing did catch my ear, and it was about her being in Redeye's army.

"You worked for Redeye?" I asked.

"Ya, fought in his takeover of Fillydelphia like… twenty years ago, I think." She said, a sense of calm distance washing over her face. "Ya, that fight was a mess. So many dead slaves, it was like playing raider rulet when trotting over the bodies. You never knew which slave was rigged with explosives. And I'm sure they were throwing dead ponies into the pot, no way they had that much meat to feed us grunts."

She finally looked at me, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I was sure if she had the evil eye, it would be as strong as Victoria's. "But things calmed down after we won. Life got boring until it didn't, ya know."

The mercenary veteran then gritted her already grinded down teeth. "You know that Redeye promised he would do things differently. That us mercenary clans would have a home that's not some toxic shithole for a change. But no, he just let those slavers back in, let them do what they always did! Stern to that fucking traitor! The death that bitch got was too good for her."

She then shot the rest of her drink down her throat again. "And you know what I got for all my hard work and suffering?" A burning rage was in her eyes, making me worried that she was about to throw hooves.

"Mom, that's enough!" I turned to see a blue teenage colt, who had the exact same red and yellow mane as Rook, with it even in the same long braided and stinger shaped tip. He had to be around the age of thirteen or fourteen years old with how weedy he looked.

Rook slummed and smiled. "Oh, hey there Fort, what's the matter?"

The teenager rolled his eyes at Rook. "You mean the matter that you're on duty, but are drunk off your flank again! Mom, you're the sheriff, you can't be spending all day drinking."

I looked at Rook, now feeling very concerned. "Y… you're the town's sheriff!?"

"E'yep!" She said as she clumsily moved her duster, showing a crude brass star covered in those strange circles the locals seemed fond of. "I'm Sheriff Rook of Am… Amethyst Sands. So don't go fucking around, or-" she then patted her big fucking rifle, "I'll be using Never Forget on ya flank!"

"Right…" I said, then shot my whiskey down my throat, and felt it burn all the way down and then back up.

Rook let out a chuckle, and again waved at the bartender. "Hay, get me another, no, make it two, my new friend needs more!"

"No, that's enough for today, the Sheriff needs to sober up!" Fort yelled, and the concerned looking bartender just slowly trotted backwards into the back room.

"Oh not this again!" Rook grumbled as she glared at her son.

But the young teenager didn't flinch. "Mom, you need to control your drinking. We can't have you getting another heart attack. You got lucky last time."

She gritted her teeth for a long moment, but then calmed down. "Right, you're right. I'm…I'm sorry Fort." Rook then slumped down, her head resting on the bar. "I think I'll rest my eyes for now."

The old mercenary then fell asleep right there on the bar.

"Wow, it's been a long time since I've seen this kind of drunk." I commented.

Fort then sighed. "Sorry about mom. She's… lived through a lot."

"I can imagine. She's clearly an old mare from a profession where mare die young." I said with admiration. "But how's this drunk even the sheriff?"

"Mom's good at killing, that's why." Fort said matter of factly, but then bitterly said. "Not that the townsfolk need a sheriff, they just like having her do their dirty work, and pay her in booze for it."

Looking at the older mare as she slept soundly with her head on the bar, still clutching her empty glass of whisky, I wondered how much blood must have been on her hooves. Yet she slept without a hint of those horrors.

"And she's okay with that?" I asked Fort.

Worry crossed his face before a sense of determination took hold. "Can you help me get my mom to her bed, I'll tell you along the way."

Shrugging, I then slung the dead drunk Sheriff over my back as Fort took her rifle, and we trotted out of the bar. All while the locals did jack shit but ignored us.

"Mom thinks all she's good for is killing." Fort told me as we trotted back out into the hot dry wasteland. "So she stays here because she thinks it gives her a purpose."

I had to shift my wait, the mare being far heavier than she looked, not to mention a big revolver poking into my back. "Heavy stuff kid, you must be like, ya know, super smart to understand that."

Fort looked away, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm not a kid… I mean, I'm fourteen years old, only a year away from being an adult."

"Wait?" I then just realized something. "Is that why both your mom and sister had kids when they were fifteen."

He rolled his eyes as we entered a row of tents. "Well ya, most ponies don't live past twenty if they're a mercenary, and all White Scorpions are mercenaries. It's important for us to have foals early before we start taking on contracts. Well, that's what Keep and grandmother told me. Mom on the other hoof, she doesn't like to talk about the clan."

Truthfully, it wasn't all that out of the norm to hear about. It was almost guaranteed that any isolated community surrounded by dangers would have their mares getting pregnant as soon as possible and as much as possible. Several of the mares at the Ruffled Feathers had six siblings at least, with nearly half of them never reaching the age of ten.

Probably the only reason I never had a brother or sister was because my real mother didn't want to ruin her figure.

"And are you going to do that? It is a big responsibility." I asked the teenager.

But he shook his head. "No, sis says it's not necessary, now that the radiation has cleared up. We don't need to sell ourselves out anymore."

Right, the so-called Gardens of Equestria cleared nearly everything up. So many places that were once shitholes are now marginally better. But then that begged another question, "then why are you here?"

The question almost seem to insult him. "Because mom's here! Somepony has to look out for her, and that pony is me!"

"Ahh, a mama's colt." I said with a chuckle.

"Ya ya, I heard it all before." Fort said as he trotted into a tent, keeping the flap open for me. "But seriously, If I'm not around, then… I don't know."

I Stopped to ruffle the shrimps mane before trotting inside. "Ya, I think I get what your saying. My mom was the same way." Finding only a mildly moldy mattress, I dumped Rook on it. "I'm mean like you, not like your mom. Prism always made sure I was near, and was always there when I found myself in trouble."

"And is she nearby?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Last time my troubles came for her. And I was nowhere nearby to stop it."

Fort's ears drooped, looking guilty as he said, "s… sorry."

"It's fine, your at no flat for my mistakes." I told him as I took a seat, letting myself rest a little after hauling around the heavy old bitch. "So, other then the killing shit, why's she not with the rest of the White Scorpions, she must be like an elder or something?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to say, but it's why mom and Keep are fighting. Though from what they say, they've always fought." Fort answered, sounding unsure of it. He then trotted over to his mother, making sure she's in a more comfortable position. "Anyways, thanks for helping get mom here. The locals are too afraid of her to even try and move her after she's been drinking. And it's nice to actually talk with some pony, since there's none my age here."

"And that their waste pony bandits. And cultists. That can't help much." I commented.

But Fort shrugged. "I'm not sure about that. The clan is rather religious itself, and supposably were closer to being waste ponies then normal ponies. The Followers actually suspect that my clan's poisonous blood is a result of a megaspell runoff, much like how waste ponies are made because of bailfire radiation."

"Weird that is." I said as I got up. "Well I'll leave you be. And I wish you and your mother well."

Leaving the teenage colt with his drunken mother, as I returned to the wasteland an overly strong smell of cheap cologne assaulted my nose. Looking around, I found myself in the shadow of two large ponies, with one rad-rat looking stallion between them.

I bit my tongue as I recognized the thin stallion and he looked shocked to see me. "Wait! Star Charter? What's one of the Ruffled Feathers whores doing here?" Lean Year asked in his stupidly nasally voice.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't brake your nose?" I snarled.

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