The Quagmire of the Black Crusade

The sun was shining through the previously dark night sky. Now, visible as the shade of green from the barrier was gone. Roisin approached her squad leader, who was standing over a dying grand necromancer. The twisted shape of a unicorn, with bones sticking out, and flesh visible, was grotesque. Its robes were tattered and its body full of holes from bullets. It’s once lifeless eyes stared back at them. Empty, yet still seeing. The undead unicorn strained to speak, but spoke in a horse and gravely voice.

“Your victory is nothing but a small lapse in the greater vision of our Queen of Bones. Soon your little southern defensive line will fall. Already Equestria is being taken, your alliance means nothing. Soon, our glorious Queen of Bon-.”

“Kill it already. I don’t care about the ramblings of a soon-to-be dead again unicorn.” The squad leader said, as he puffed on a cigarette.

Roisin floated a magazine of ammo over and reloaded. The others did the same, only with their hooves, as only a few unicorns remained in the unit. As many were wounded or killed after the battle. No one spoke, so Roisin took the lead. “On my go, three, two, one.”

As the shots rang out, the creature seemed to hardly put up a fight. A calmness took over the scene. What should have been dead, was now dead. Roisin looked at the creature with a sense of both pity, and anger. She was filled with pity, as many of the undead were unwilling, slaves forced to fight. With twisted desires and morals. She knew that all too well. As her childhood friend and comrade was transformed after losing her life further north. But towards this willing necromancer, who joined the Dread League for power, she felt only anger. To live forever, but cursed to only gain life from causing the suffering of others.

She spat on the corpse, a disgusting abomination that caused the loss of so many she had loved. Roisin wondered if she would feel the same if she ever saw Maeve again. It was hard to remember her living form. All Roisin could think of was her undead form. A twisted undead unicorn. With a bone horn, and flesh visible.

A pony put her hoof on Roisin, she had been spacing out. “Let’s go, Roisin, rations have arrived from the rear.”

Roisin nodded and followed. At least she had survived another battle, but how many more? She secretly hoped to never see Maeve again, in that grotesque form.

The pony interpreted her thoughts, “I heard its various pastries, courtesy of Equestria.”

“It’s been awhile since we had fresh pastries.” Roisin thought of the freshly baked tarts, that her mother made. A memory far removed from the groups homeland. Which Roisin remembered little of, having been a refugee most of her life.

Aife was flying high as the sun rose. She heard shots come from the town center. She figured it was more of the cleanup. The sun glimmered, and she was glad that the barrier was gone. It felt constrictive. It limited her freedom to fly. Overhead, aircraft from an allied airfield flew above. They were scouting and finishing off retreating enemy forces. She landed, alongside her comrades, as the griffons were mopping up. So the 12th could take it easy for now. As Aife strode up to grab some refreshments, courtesy of the Equestria, she bumped into a special eye patched pony. Spice Song turned sharply, with Summer Quick hovering behind her.

“Oh, look who it is.” Spice Song was already eating a dried cake of some kind. Aife looked at it in awe, her mouth watering in anticipation.

"So where did you, uh, get that," she was quickly interrupted by Summer Quick, who shoved a piece into her mouth.

“It’s the honey crisp apple flavor, there is more back there.” She pointed and Aife’s eyes followed to a large gazebo with chefs hurriedly putting out food. Summer then motioned towards Spice, “she is more of a pumpkin spice type.”

Aife, with her mouth full almost choked, “pumpkin spice! She does seem like the type.”

Spice Song coughed, taking a drink from a bottle, “What is that suppose to mean?”

Aife whirled around as, behind her, stood Swift Leaf. Alongside a group of pegasi. Swift Leaf stood with his chest out proudly, clearing his throat, he spoke, “fourteen total kills. How about them apples?”

“Oh my,” Aife said while grinning. The other ponies giggled, whispering, no doubt they thought a rural North Griffonian pony had come up short. “Twenty-six,” she said while finishing off her cake, grabbing a piece from a lackey of Swift Leaf.

“B-but that is almost the company record. How did y-you...”

All Aife could do was smile, her mouth full of cake.

Hesperus was the second one out, already the commander, the old gray griffon, was talking to his old comrades. He stretched out his claws and wings. Just glad to be out of that tin can. Fellow old griffons from the Empire. Although Hesperus was still wondering why the UNAD had thrown the crews together so suddenly. His old crew got along well, even had served together for a few months. These hastily thrown together crews were inefficient to say the least. He missed his comrades. As they had gone through a lot together.

The claw of the young driver was awkwardly held, out to him. Hesperus took it, and the driver shook it. “I wanted to say, you did some nice shooting.”

“And you drove pretty well yourself, kid.”

The young bird made a face, at first, of annoyance, then acceptance. “Yeah, whatever, just let that old bird know I am not deserting, I am going to grab food.”

Hesperus nodded, as the young griffon nearly bumped into a group of pegasi chasing each other over some pastries. Hesperus turned, looking for the tank that had saved them. He spotted a small crowd around it. The crew, changelings, insectoid-like ponies, had bright green eyes. Each look battle-worn, but still presented themselves as neatly as possible. Uniforms tucked and sharp, even worn and stained with dirt, they looked proper. Hesperus quickly walked up and held out his hand to one of the members, “thanks, out there, you saved us.”

The changelings stoic expression was softened at this, he took Hesperusclaw without delay. Hesperus was surprised by the hardness of the creature's hoof. “Of course, we are comrades now against the dead.”

“I thought the Griffonian Empire’s detachment of changeling volunteers were sent back?”

The Changeling shrugged, “Orders are orders. It was delayed after we were ready for transit. Once the Black Crusade landed in Equestria it was a different game. The truce allowed us to stay for 'goodwill' to the griffons of Griffonia. Now we rotate ever few years or after too many loses.”

Hesperus smiled at this, it had taken a war to be waged against all living beings, in order to unite them all into a truce. A war which saw the majority of Griffonia conquered, and large portions of land of Equestria conquered. It had brought together all ideologies and species into a cause much greater. No conclusion was in sight. As still, the Dread League made gains in Equestria and Griffonia. Zebrica saw rogue necromancers attempting to start their own vision of a Black Crusade. At the very least, Hesperus would see his sister, nephew, and fiancé again. Maybe even his previous comrades in other armor divisions. It was a Great War of the living, which united all in a common goal.