Broken Echoes

by SadisticPomegranate

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark, Adventure
Length: 1545

The epic saga of Starkas Thunderblade and his struggles against the Emptiness

This is the amazing and awe-inspiring tale of Starkas Thunderblade and his struggles against the Emptiness and his horde of shadow entities. Well, I hope it will amaze you and inspire awe. This was written to see if I could write it. It seems I can and really enjoyed it! If you want to read more then please like/comment etc. Any and all feedback is appreciated, especially suggestions for me. Let me know if you feel any tags should be added/removed.
Thanks for reading!
SadisticPomegranate

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-02 15:52:29 UTC

Prologue - Part 1

Prologue - Part 1

Hey there, potential readers! This is my first ever piece of creative writing I’ve done of my own volition, any feedback would be welcome, and Celestia knows I’ll need it!  Anyway, here goes! Enjoy!

*** 2000 years  BNMI ***

(Before Nightmare Moon Imprisonment)

Starkas Thunderblade shook his head, waiting for his hearing to clear and the ringing in his ears to die down. He blinked rapidly, waiting for the eerie green after-images etched upon his retinas, images of ponies, writhing in agony as the green mage-fires consumed their flesh, to die away. Eventually he could make out the harsh sounds of battle, magically-reinforced steel scraping upon the plate armour of their foes, the shrieks of the wounded, the noise sounding nightmarish and yet familiar to his ears, although strangely muted. Eventually he noticed a voice, calling out his name, but this too was muffled, as if he were underwater.

 Suddenly, he felt a hoof impact upon his shoulder, shaking him roughly, whilst the strange voice echoed on. Anxiously, he whirled, bringing his sword to the ready position drummed into him through the long years in the Academy, harsh blue lightning crackling along its hilt, the once silvery blade already stained with the blue-black blood of their foes. He relaxed almost instantly as he met the worried eyes of his cousin, Commander Solaris Brightspear, realizing that it was he who was  the source of the peculiar voice. Gradually, his hearing was returning to him, until he could finally make out his voice.

“Starkas! Stark, can you hear me?” he asked, worry evident in both voice and eyes

“I can now, sir. Those bastards managed to land a mortar uncomfortably close to me, I’ll be fine in a moment” Starkas replied, not letting his professional military manner drop from him, keeping his face straight and staring straight ahead

“Will you drop it?” demanded Solaris, “I may be your commander but I’m sure as hell still your cousin, and that notwithstanding, we have a bloody WAR to fight here, so you can damn well drop the act!” he practically roared in frustration, the shout amplified in no small part due to the fear that was rampaging through his mind; a thousand “what if”’s carving a flaming trail through his mind.

 Starkas picked up on that quickly enough, he had trained alongside his cousin for many years in the academy, before looking up to him when Solaris was chosen for the Nathorii Bolters, the most skilled squad in all of the Equestria army while he himself only made it to the Aerial Corps spec ops, specialising in covert strikes behind enemy lines, often made in the dead of night. Starkas was their only Alicorn member and thus it often fell to him to use his magic to sabotage siege engines or supply trains and many other such essentials of war.

This all changed one night when an ambush went disastrously wrong, resulting in the deaths of all of his squadmates.

*** 2003 years BNMI ***

At first all had gone well, the convoy had sluggishly rumbled past, 6 covered wagons, just as the intel had specified. Then, just as he sprang the trap, blasting down rocks from the high walls of the canyon the wagons had entered to trap them whilst his comrades swooped down through the clouds; the moisture glistening on their armour and trailing behind them as vapour, drifting away with the wind, their every move spelling impending death for the ponies beneath. As they plummeted his squadmates opened fire with their crossbows, skillfully skewering the ponies pulling the carts with their trademark red-fletched quarrels. For a moment he just stood spellbound, watching these elite operatives efficiently and gracefully take out these hostile ponies without them noticing a thing before the quarrel drove itself through their eyes and finding a home lodged in their brains. They then landed before carefully scanning the area for outriders and hidden assailants. Once assured that their positions were secure they beckoned to Starkas to join them. Signalling back at them he leapt into the air, spreading his magnificent black plumage to it’s fullest extent before gliding down to the rocky canyon pass. He waved his Lieutenant over and quickly fell into step with him.

“What’s the situation?” Starkas asked, keeping his pace brisk and his speech to the point, his military veneer not slipping for an instant

“All seems clear at the moment, sir, just waiting for you to get here so we can inspect the cargo”

“Very well then, Steel Wing. Carry on.” He ordered calmly before striding off briskly towards the closest wagon whilst Steel Wing barked orders at the rest of the squad in the background. Ignoring this background noise he flipped back the covering on the wagon he was at.

        Suddenly he was met by the shocking sight of... Some plain wooden crates. Starkas released the breath he had not realised he was holding. Honestly, what did he expect? The spy had hitherto only delivered accurate information. This supply train was only supposed to be carrying food supplies and some weird chemicals. The spy wasn’t too specific about what those were, just that they involved a lot of thaumaturgically treated glass jars full of some weird liquid. He cracked open a crate and peered inside. Nothing but dried hay and some bags of flour. He started to move to the next one but before he could Steel Wing interrupted him

“Sir! We’ve found some jars in this wagon! What do you suppose they are?” He called, not seeing anything amiss with the peculiar contents of the wagon

“I don’t know, but we should treat them as dangerously volatile until we can verify the contents. Get them out of there and on the floor in the open. Do it carefully, mind, if it is dangerous I don’t want to have to clean you up off the canyon walls” Starkas called back, excitement at the unknown causing a few cracks to appear in his persona, making him act informal for once

“Roger, sir. Alright, Fuse, you’re our demolitions pony,  get a good look at this stuff, but don’t set it off or something!”

“Aye, sir!” the pony replied, tying back his mane to keep any sweat from dripping into his eye. He knew how dangerous a mistake at this moment could be, as his missing eye could attest. Ever so slowly he leaned in, taking care to avoid knocking any of the jars over.

        By now he had gathered quite an audience, albeit one that was trying to be as far away as possible whilst simultaneously crowding him. Steel Wing noticed his discomfort and warded the curious pegasi away from him

“Come on, everypony! Fuse here needs his space, if he gets nervous what with all of you crowding round, why, he might just SLIP, don’t you think?” He told them, the double barreled warning and threat combined serving to get the others in the squad to get back. WAY back. Well, all but Captain Thunderblade. Fuse nodded his thanks at the grey Pegasus who responded by shaking his head in a “don’t mention it” kind of way. Fuse glanced nervously at his CO, who was still stood there, eyes afire with curiosity, towering over Steel Wing, thanks not only to his Alicorn blood but also his long, slender horn. He certainly made an intimidating sight, standing at least 1 foot above any normal plumage, his pitch black coat and plumage being complemented by the occasional blue feather or patch of hair in his mane. He hadn’t yet reached the full stage of Alicorn maturity, so his mane was perfectly normal, as opposed to the CO of the Nathorii Bolters who was, it was rumoured, a close familial relation of Thunderblade’s.

Shaking all distracting thoughts out of his head, well, not PHYSICALLY, at that precise moment it would have been tantamount to suicide. He was so concentrated at that moment that he didn’t notice a unicorn wearing robes pop up over the ridge to the west, the setting sun silhouetting him clearly for all to see. He also didn’t see a tiny beam of red magic come streaking out of this mystery pony’s horn. No, he didn’t see any of this, which is why it came as a complete surprise when this bolt of red lightning came screaming past his face, smashing into the jar he was handling carefully at that moment, sending it soaring towards the other carts, helpfully placed next to each other by the other soldiers whilst waiting to hurry things along a bit.

Oh, he thought, before the was a soft “whump” and everything went green and red. At least it didn’t hurt, he thought, before his brain realised he was, in fact, in searing agony and promptly reminded him of this. He screamed.

End of Part 1

Well, that was it! Hoped you enjoyed it, because I certainly enjoyed writing it! Make sure to leave feedback and I’ll see if you liked this enought for me to continue. Corrections are welcome, I know I often get apostrophes wrong! Please comment, like and all that jazz! Well, I’m signing off now, thanks for reading!

The Sadistic Pomegranate