Chapters The Quagmire of the Black Crusade
The General sat behind an immense oak desk. On top, beneath the papers, was a large map, stained and crinkled. A blue vanilla folder sat opened in front of the General. The stack of papers had increased as the offensive dawned on the battle group. It was set to take place in thirty minutes. The required signatures and orders had already all been sent out. Already much had been done, but still, the general fought to get the extra support needed. He would fight for it till the last second.
His secretary, a young female pony, stood nearby, eyeing a large portrait. The General noticed this, stamped his seal on the order, his hooves edging towards the glass of wine on the stained map. “What do you think, Briana? Does that painting capture her beauty?”
“Of the northern princess? Princess Fiana II?” Briana said while focused on painting. The mare's mane was cut short in the painting, which was old now but not covered in dust. A heavy, dark fur coat, gracefully contrasting with the bright pink of the pony. “It does, sir, everyone from the northern tribes would be hard-pressed to find such a depiction.”
The General smiled warmly, the years seeming to disappear from his face. He took a sip from the glass of wine on the desk. Briana already had the folder in her hand and was giving orders to the attendant outside to deliver it to the radio and magic communications department. An order for a request of armored vehicles. Specifically for tank support. As all the UNAD, United Nations Against the Dead, could spare currently was a unit of Griffonian light armored vehicles.
Standing up, the General paced around towards the painting, and then the large window behind him. It faced the frontline. In the distance, the sporadic shelling of both enemy and friendly artillery units could be seen. The explosions, illuminated the dark sky with a sinister array of warm colors. A few of the shells were magically enchanted, sending up cold blues and purples. Even a few greens. It reminded the General of the northern lights. He sighed, drank from the glass of wine, and sat down. The wine from the grape fields of Wingbardy. All nations of Griffonia north of Aquileia had long since fallen. Even that was almost taken. Although hope was found in remnants and survivors still fighting against the undead behind enemy lines. The General's home, and his battalions, had long since fallen. The Northern Tribes, a nation that at the time was lock in a struggle with Socialists, were forced to focus on the real threat. The Dread League, and their Black Crusade.
The General was a young pony during that time, and helped to save refugees fleeing southward. A large potion of their people managed to save themselves. A few members of the Snowflake dynasty managed to escape as well. But the princess fought to her last breath with her royal pegasi until the end. Buying time and defending the fleeing civilians.
He rubbed his eyes, if only he had been there , he thought to himself. The General’s gaze fixed itself on the grandfather clock. A holdover from the previous owner, long gone. Or even worse, turned undead. Briana had returned, nervous as usually, as it was only her second day.
Briana looked at him confused, “the Tribe’s settlement in south Francistria? New Everfrost? Well, they are better than before, but still-” she hesitated to get the words out. “Subpar.”
The General snorted. Briana looked worried, but he waved his hoof in a dismissive manner. “No need to be so polite, be frank.”
“Well,” Briana eyed the painting, the desk, and then the general nervously, “the Princess Boudica II, is strong and has done much but with so many refugees from all over Griffionia. It was-”
“Horse apples?” The General said smirking, the clock struck 5:00, and a chime came from within.
The single tolling of the bell was interrupted by the fury of modernity. Friendly artillery thundered. A prideful lion which sat on the backlines. The roar shook the ground, rumbling, and soon the shells crashed in the distance. The burst of light, contrasted with the various small and large barriers. These barriers were an eerie green of death, giving off the sinister aura of dark magic. A massive own sat in the center, directly parallel to the General’s window.
Briana looked at the scene, like something out of the movies she had seen as a child. According to intelligence, a gathering of necromancers was taking place. The activity of the dead disappearing and the gathering of bodies within the large, center barrier, was a key to this. It was hard to believe the dead had evolved to use complex machinery. Already they had started to respond with their own artillery. Even just the previous day, the undead had used vehicles to provide support on an attack. Airplanes were a regular sight. With many of the undead retaining memories and prior knowledge from before they were turned. Enslaved to their necromancer masters. Some even betrayed the living, accepting the curse.
The General started to pour more wine, refilling his empty glass. “Are you worried Briana, this is the first major attack you’ve seen, correct?”
Briana nodded, “Y-yes, sir. Are you worried, you seem so relaxed?”
The General took a long gulp of wine. Staring out into the light show towards the frontline. “Of course,” he paused. In that explosions, light, he saw the northern lights. He looked back at the painting, the frozen coast beckoning from the late princesses window. He recalled it would often reflect the lights on clear nights. A sight he longed to see again. “Even in these dark times, I hope to see our homeland again.”
Briana stood silently watching the cascade of war. She tried to imagine what her homeland looked like, the mountains, the snow, the lights, the towns. But all she could focus on was the battle. Her attention turned away from the scene as an attendant rushed in.
“General, your presence is requested in the war room.”
He nodded, putting down the glass. “Right then, let us be off then, Briana.”
“Yes sir.” She said, taking one last look at the poor mimic of the northern lights outside.
The Quagmire of the Black Crusade
Roisin was fatigued to say the least. She was crouching alongside her comrades in a ruined house. In front were their defensive works and trenches. Sporadic crimson helmets would peak out, send a few shots down range, and then crouch back down. Her watch read 5:00 and, right on schedule, the artillery’s rumble began. The battalion had been up for more than 24 hours. She tried to do the math in her head but was having trouble thinking it through. 27 since yesterday but then also the 5 today, well yesterday, well wouldn’t that be today? She jumped up suddenly as a shell landed nearby from the enemies. Shrapnel stuck itself into the building. A piece just missing a griffons head. The griffon shrugged it off and continued trying to talk to his comrades. Which was more of a scream. Roisin could hardly hear herself think.
She hadn’t been able to cut her mane, strands of her pink mane got in her face. Her horn itched, and the uniform was dirty and tattered. To add to her problems, she supposed her future problems , the shells, were bouncing off the barrier. Only those enchanted with magic made it through the murky green barrier. The ripples like waves going over the barrier. Trees were blown to bits, launching into the air. The earth was churned like butter. How long had she been on the frontlines against the dead now? Four years? She had joined early on, being a capable unicorn. She remembered hearing the rumors of the undead using airplanes, and tanks. Soon after, they had their first confrontation with them. It had been some time since the end of the world conflict, now all the living only had one enemy. Or two, since she was unsure of the worm situation in Zebrica?
Flaithri, a pony also from the fallen nation of the Northern Tribes, quickly yelled out to the squad leader, who made his way over. The griffon, quickly, moved over and put the radio up to his head. A shallow scar near his eye, and white feathers with hints of pink, shouted back towards the squad. The voice was raspy from yelling, barely audible over the sounds of war.
“Ten minutes left!”
Roisin was next to a younger pony, whose first time in battle was now. The mares legs were shaking and his eyes wide. An older pony handed the shaken recruit a sealed flask. The recruit looked at it, hooves hesitating to grab it.
“A potion, to calm the nerves.”
The recruit greedily drank, until nearly dropping the flask as another shell landed closer than the others. Shaking the ground. Outside, the artillery reached its crescendo, and Roisin moved closer to the door. Checking her watch, it was five till 5:30, already it felt like it had been hours. Peaking through a blown out window, light armored vehicles were rolling up. She scoffed, turning to the mare beside her.
“An old model, not even tanks either, just armored cars.”
The mare looked as well, the glint of the exiled Northern Tribes Battalion's crimson metal helmet catching the light of magic shells exploding. “A few LAVs, none modern, only late 10s. Maybe early 20s?” The mare said while checking her magazines.
Roisin was more annoyed now than ever after being reminded of the “dark ages” they were living were now in. It had been almost twenty-five years since the start of the Black Crusade. Yet technology and production had slowed down, as the onslaught from the undead was never ending. Hordes of cannon fodder and ever evolving undead caused advancement to slow. The power of the Queen of Bones had shown that current arms were efficient, but dark, old, and sinister magic could still stand the test of time.
“At least,” a griffon said to the right of Roisin, “this time we have support.”
The opposite comrade responded, “it won’t matter. The armor won’t hold against the Dread tanks. Remember last time? On top of that, these are old mod-.”
“Thirty seconds!” The squad leader said, holding the radio and relaying information to other squads in the surrounding buildings.
Roisin could see the enemies front lines. A mess of broken barbed wire and defensive. A few small barriers were placed, which would be the main stronghold of the trenches. As these would have protected the machine gun nests. Some smoke from the magic shells could be seen to be emanating from within the large barrier. The headquarters of the Dread League's army on this front. The light armored vehicles slowly rolled up, slightly ahead of their comrades. They occasionally took shots at fleeing undead, and some mindlessly attacking skeletons.
The seconds seemed to last forever, as the sweeping of machine guns peppered the field. A few airplanes were flying in the sky, some allied, some enemy. A dogfight was occurring over the enemies' headquarters. Although the barrier would provide interference to them upon entering. Everyone was on edge, sporadic shots rang out on exposed ponies and griffons. The seconds lasted forever.
“5 seconds!”
Roisin and the others quickly rose, and began the mad gallop forward. Ponies and griffons side by side. Some of the griffons, took flight to better charge into combat. Both enemy and allied machine gun positions opened fire, but enemy fire was mostly silenced by the light armor. Which provided mobile cover as the infantry passed the trenches. A ruined home and other structures provided cover, as each soldier moved from each. A few spells crashed into the lines, leaving a few soldiers in a haze. The burnt bodies of ponies and griffons within the crater it left.
Roisin bobbed in and out of cover alongside other comrades. Returning fire when needed. A group of mindless undead charged, being cut down by fire, with only a few closing the distance. Roisin loaded another magazine, and rushed alongside the others towards the enemy defensive works outside the barrier.
Already the others had made quick work of it, and upon jumping in, Roisin was confronted with a few undead. Shots rang off, and she sent some rounds down the trench line. A griffon, flying above, was shot down, landing near the barrier. A hoof grabbed her shoulder, shouting that the enemies were in a bunker.
“Cover me, I can send them a gift!”
The pony nodded and fired towards the enemies. Roisin quickly peaked out, and charged up a spell. A blast of raw magic, red and flickering, hit the entrance of the bunker with an explosion. A few limbs were tossed around, and the entrance caved inwards. Above, the light armor passed the trench as allies ran forward. Roisin found herself swept up in the chaos. She, and others from random squads, crouched behind the vehicles as they rolled through the barrier. A sinister magic ran down Roisin’s spine.
Inside the barrier were more defenses, almost completely untouched by the artillery. As only a few enchanted shells managed to make contact. Already, shots and spells were flying. Roisin sent her own spell of raw, condensed magic, into a horde of undead. She then took aim near a machine gun nest, which peppered the group. A few of them were hit, but the light armor turned its gun on the nest and fired.
Walls of flesh, barricades summoned using black magic and the dead, stood in the way. Beyond it, were buildings, with the farthest and center one, being the command post of the undead. It’s bell tower raising above the other buildings. Roisin aimed her horn towards the wall of flesh, bright yellow magic, the element of light, blasted through it. Burning and singing the edges. The squad of ponies and griffons rushed in, blasting and letting their guns tear through the undead. Roisin made her way outside, alongside a ruined wall, with some other ponies and griffons.
Combat was already slowing down, as more and more of the undead were using their brains. Still, many mindlessly charged, seeking to overwhelm the living. Roisin noticed a vehicle stuck in the ground, with vine-like tendrils of green pulling it down into the earth. The ground caving in, and sizzling from the dark magic. A pony on a radio was crouched nearby. A squad leader, Roisin recognized the patch and face of the pony, on the radio.
“Where is our aerial support? We are pinned and can’t stop that necromancer from sinking our armor! We can’t see the son of a buck!”
The vehicle's crew was panicking, as shots were being fired off wildly in every direction. A horde of undead were now on the vehicle. Their claws and weapons gnashing at the metal. While fire from smarter undead forced Roisin and the others to stay behind cover. Roisin was handed water from another soldier, and drank greedily, passing it down the line. Looking back towards their own headquarters, figures were in the sky. Roisin smiled as suddenly a few of them dived downwards and returned fire on the enemies. Grenades were tossed, and one, holding a rocket launcher, fired towards the necromancer. The explosion sent earth and bone flying in the air. Suddenly, the spell disappeared, allowing the LAV to drive forward and the soldiers to push outwards in support.
A few pegasi landed behind the ruined wall. Roisin noticed their different uniforms, which seemed to resemble Equestria’s own. The other pegasi’s squad members rained down hellfire on the undead. Much needed support, Roisin thought to herself. The pegasi’s squad leader, a pony with a short red mane, and a coat of yellow, saluted. “12th Equestrian Recon Volunteer Corp present!”
The infantry squad leader sighed heavily with relief. “Finally! Tell your unit to focus on the elite undead. On the west side are heavy gun encampments too.”
The Pegasi nodded, her red hair bobbing up and down. “I will let our Spice know. She wanted me to inform you that a couple of tanks were spotted further north.”
“Shit,” the squad leader mumbled.
Roisin spotted a pegasi flying almost recklessly, nearly clipping the top of a building. Her red and pink mane reminded Roisin of a younger pony, who had gone to the academy with her. Although that pony had moved to flight school, being one of the rare pegasi of the north. She tried to recall the name, it was a northerners name. It started with an A, what was it? She couldn’t remember as she shot a few undead crouched behind a burnt out vehicle.
The Quagmire of the Black Crusade
Aife flew without care, whizzing by the various buildings. Spells, aimed to hit her, radiated heat as they flew by. She knew if her mother and father could see her now, they would be in awe of her flying. Even fit for the Northern Tribe's Royal Guards. Red and pink hair waved underneath her helmet as she riddled an enemy machine gun nest with bullets. Aife counted each kill. Or would it be re-kill, as weren’t they already dead? A few undead on a roof peaked out, dead. An undead unicorn fired a gross green spell at her? Aife dodged with a twirl and flung a grenade in the undead mares window. Aife had counted at least ten, maybe even more at this point.
She checked her ammo and recalled her orders. Blah blah, stay in formation and target any dead guys. She was already getting low on ammo, she reloaded, and a bullet whizzed by, scrapping her wing. “Ow! Hey,” she shouted out as she quickly drove downwards to get momentum and then swinging upwards with a hail of bullets towards the undead enemies. “Watch where you creeps are shooting!”
A small group, with an undead griffon, collapsed as the bullets made their mark. On the griffons back was a bazooka. No doubt for use against her armor. Aife wondered if that kill earned her extra points. After all, it was lucky that they had shot at her. Or was it unlucky? Aife pondered while mindlessly dropping grenades and firing bullets on enemies below. She was thinking about what she would have for breakfast. She saw the grenade she dropped blow apart various undead. Only, she was interrupted when another Pegasi flew nearby her.
A black eye patch, a mean frown, and a mane of various shades of red. Her coat was a light orange. Aife sighed, it was Spice Song.
“Aife, what in horse apples are you doing? I said stay in formation!”
Aife sighed as the angry hoof of Spice Song pointed towards a blown open roof. The pair landed in the attic of the house. Other pegasi followed, taking their own rest or checking equipment. A few were injured, electing to stay and nurse they injuries.
“But Spice Song, did you see me! I took out at least fifteen of them so far, even a few heavy weapons. Oh, and then one even had a-.”
“Aife focus! When I give an order, listen to what I say! You can count your kills-”
One of the ponies, with a glowing magic radio, appeared nearby. The small contraption, roared for a brief moment before a thin line of magic flew into the machine from outside. It glowed, and then out came orders. “Sorry to interpret Spice, but these are-.”
Spice Song sighed, “don’t worry, Cloudy Sprinkle, relay the word.”
“Enemy tanks and an undead counter recon are inbound.”
Aife turned her head sideways, “That’s weird Cloudy, the barriers are still up-”
Cloudy sighed, “Do you even read the intel report? It’s undead pegasi and griffons. Specialized undead for countering aerial infantry.”
“Oooh…”
Spice Song, the 12th’s leader, thought for a moment. Her eye patch blocking Aife’s view of what she was looking at. “Orders are orders. I want squad 1 and 3 leading, is Morning Haste injured.”
Morning Haste, a pegasi with a blue coat, spoke up from the care of a nearby medic. The wound leaving her right hoof bloody. “Yes, ma’am, it was a pretty unlucky hit.”
“Well, have Summer Quick take over team 3 then.” Spice Song turned, racking her gun, “let’s go ponies.”
As they took flight, Aife noticed the dark figures in the air opposite of them. Other squads from 12th Recon were engaging already, and soon their squad was in the fight. Dodging and weaving, Aife was struggling, but still keeping her speed. A few undead pegasi quickly engaged her, missing, and with a clean dodge she took them both out. A few allied pegasi supported her, and their formation caused the breaking up of the enemies. Only a strong, armored, undead griffon broke through the formation. Chaos broke out as enemies appeared from all around. Gunfire and close quarters fighting broke out, with Aife taking down a few more undead ponies, only to be rammed into from her blind spot. Unable to maintain control, she and the undead griffon who rammed her crashed into a building.
Everything was hazy, but Aife was able to rise. Struggling, she leaned on a wooden beam which had fallen nearby. She looked for her gun, but was unable to find it. The undead griffon, black as night, and with flesh and bone showing, stood up. One of the creature's wings were bent the opposite direction. The griffon was armored like a knight. The black, glimmered in the limited light from outside. He reached up and put his wing back into place harshly. The crack made Aife jump. All Aife had was a knife, which she took hold of in her mouth promptly. She spied movement on her right through the opening the two had made in the roof.
“Ah, little pegasi, it seems you need to look both ways. I thought the living were supposed to be smart?”
Aife back up, letting the griffon get closer to the opening in the wall. She spoke, sounding silly and hard to hear. The hilt of the knife in her mouth. “I dee, u kawsh mumto we.”
The griffon laughed, then coughed painfully, “What? Say that again, scared little pony.”
In front of the opening now, Aife spat out the knife and shouted at the griffon. “I did, you crashed into me!”
Before the griffon could respond, a surge of bullets from a submachine gun came from the opening. The undead griffon’s armor managed to block some, but not all, and he struggled to keep moving forward. The undead griffon turned, only to be met with another hail of bullets, and he fell over, dead.
Aife smiled widely as the pegasi landed inside. The pegasi then double tapped the corpse with a few more shots. “Ah, hay yeah! Just on time, Summer! That was the leader of those Dread knights, just look at that armor and his size too!”
Summer Quick, a yellow and pink pony, snorted. A coupe pegasi behind her, nodded and flew off to rejoin the aerial combat. “More importantly, Aife, what does the oh so great Northern Flyer have in terms of kills?”
“Twenty one.”
Summer’s eyes widened at Aife’s count. She reached into a bag and pulled out a potion with a red cross on it. She handed it to Aife. “Twenty one? You're not lying, are you?"
“No, of course not. On Celestia’s name!” Aife said while gesturing her legs in a strange way. She then popped the lid of the potion.
“Well, if that’s true, then Swift Leaf is behind.”
“Oh, and what does he have.” Aife put emphasize on he, as she found Swift Leaf annoying, more like Slow Leaf, she thought to herself. Drinking the sweet tasting potion. It reminded her of cinnamon buns.
“Only ten when I talked to him. Seems you're not just an airhead, but a skilled airhead.”
Aife stuck out her tongue at Summer. As she walked towards the opening of the building, they both noticed a light armored vehicle driving beside the building. It stopped suddenly, with the hatch opening and an orange griffon peaking out. He called over to them, “You ponies ok? Medics are on the way up from the rear, but the battle's nearing its end, one last push, it seems.”
Summer and Aife both looked at each other.
“Shall we Great Northern Flyer?”
Aife teased her, hesitating, “I don’t know, you did call me an airhead.”
“A skilled airhead,” Summer said as she took off into the air.
The Great Northern Flyer was quick to follow her, “drop the airhead and I may sign your gun when I get famous.”
The Quagmire of the Black Crusade
The orange griffon, Hesperus, closed the hatch. He resumed his position as gunner. Climbing past the light armored vehicle's commander, a cold and prideful griffon. Old and gray, who had fought within the Empire’s ranks in their maintenance corps before being drafted into an armored unit. The old griffon grunted as Hesperus climb overtop of him. “Why bother? We are wasting time dawdling with these ponies.”
“Such a kind and caring old bird.” The driver, a younger griffon said, while shifting gears.
The old griffon’s beak was closed tight at this, “Back in my time, insolent chicks like you would be whipped into shape.”
“Yeah, well it's not your time anymore, in case you need a reminder. Look outside, the dead are fighting back.”
The sounds of battle became more clear, and the orange griffon began looking for targets. The old griffon began to call out targets. Hesperus let loose a hail of high caliber rounds upon the hordes of undead. Many were behind cover, sending shots towards their own infantry. The gun fired, and the machine vibrated as the gun barked loudly at the undead. A few of the undead appeared to try to bring out anti-tank weaponry but were quickly dispatched as the old griffon called out their location. The vehicle bounced over the bodies. A sickening thought which Hesperus had forgotten until he heard the squish.
A spell from a necromancer hit the vehicle, shaking it and causing a small amount of damage. It was a minor hit and would require no attention. The radio was making noise, and the old griffon quickly relayed information.
“Forward, go north and swing right on the first road. We should arrive near a small park.”
“Aye aye, old bird.”
The old griffon gritted his beak, “disrespectful chick.”
Hesperus jerked around as a shell from an anti tank gun suddenly flew by. The shell made contact behind them, erupting into a cyclone of flame and smoke. Shaking and sending rubble raining down on them. Hitting like hail on the vehicle. The soldiers following the armor support hide behind the buildings. A squad was pinned down ahead of them.
“Due west, dues west. At 10 o clock!” The old griffon pounded on the metal of the armored vehicle.
Hesperus quickly turned the sights of the gun, spying the anti-tank gun in the garage. He let the gun bark. The high caliber rounds shredding any fleshy undead around the gun. A large explosion erupted after one of the gun's ammunition was struck. This caused a massive blast. The garage and part of the building erupt in flames and crashed down in ruin. They advanced forward, heading towards the small park, which led to the headquarters of the Dread League. A few close calls were had, as undead widely carried anti-armor weaponry. Hesperus assumed this was a few per squad.
“Up, up! 5 o’clock! Third story, blue building!” The old griffon shouted.
The glint of a rocket appeared in a window. It fired off, smacking into the side of the vehicle, but bouncing with a thud and exploding elsewhere. Hesperus shredded the window and surrounding ones as the vehicle moved onwards. Allied infantry stormed in from the lower floors. They sought to dislodge the undead.
After battling through the streets, it became clear the Dread League’s necromancer were gathering the bodies of the fallen, and those from graveyards, to be reanimated. As all sorts of ghouls were found in the Dread League. The scattered pile of bodies in large containers, were future soldiers of the undead. Hesperus was disgusted by this, any of the fallen could be used in their ranks. It was then, Hesperus and the crew saw a Dread Tank. The tank was painted a void black, with various runic symbols drawn in white alongside it. Spikes, resembling bones, alongside barbed wire, hung all around it. It was hidden, only slightly visible to the group. As soon as they saw it, the pounding of the old griffon was frantic. The young griffon who was driving quickly put the vehicle in reverse. It jerked backwards, racing towards safety, only to get trapped in a large, collapsed trench. Hesperus fired, but it was no use, none of the shots would penetrate, they were done for.
As the void of the barrel rested upon them, Hesperus felt like it was death itself. Completely unavoidable and down to luck. Maybe if the crew wasn’t hastily put together at the last second, this could have been avoided. Perhaps if they had stronger armor, or been given a tank. Instead, they were assigned this outdated vehicle. Hesperus prayed to Arcturius that maybe one of his shots would penetrate. Then he found a peace. Even with the fanatic scene around him. Like the gods had given him, some peace. It felt like time itself slowed down. He thought back to his sister, who was further south and safe near Wingbardy. He thought of his brother. Not only that, but he wondered if his brother had felt the similar. After being killed in the fallen territories of the Griffonian Empire. Finally, his mind rested on his fiancé. A beautiful crimson colored griffon from Talouse. He thought, at the very least, he would see the others soon. His brother, father, mother, and friends. But he would like to see the living one last time.
Only to Hesperus’s shock, the tank briefly was struck by something. A large thud and then a burst of black smoke and flames. The explosion rocked them, and Hesperus could hardly believe his eyes. The whole vehicle was silent in disbelief.
“By Arcturius’s name, it's the volunteers.”
“Volunteers?” The young driver questioned the old bird.
“Aye, the changelings,” the old griffon said with a hint of relief.
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.
