Changeling's way

Chapters

Prologue: Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
Chapter 1: Stranded
Chapter 2: Among the dunes
Chapter 3: Oasis
Chapter 4: Where to go?
Chapter 5: Reconnaissance in force
Chapter 6: By the oasis shore
Chapter 7: Small steps corrupt
Chapter 8: After the battle
Chapter 9: Camp hassle
Chapter 10: Ataman's one piece
Chapter 11: On the road
Chapter 12: Jabal al-Nour

Prologue: Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Sochi, August 20??

On a southern border of Russia, on the Black Sea coast, stands a city of Sochi - an only tropical resort in the entire Russian Federation, well known in the entire country for it's sanatoriums, tea plantations and vineyards. In that city, in a completely ordinary apartment, one man is having a horrible day.

"What a crappy weekend that was, i guess my monday started on saturday." as a matter of fact, my mood was in ruins since friday, since that was a day when my home city was hit by a severe heat wave. I lay motionless on my bed, trying in vain to cool my tormented body, my AC was broken and even ice cold cola and ventilator was unable to fix this situation. I raise my head to look at the thermometer "42 degrees Celsius? Твою-ж мать...". Meteorological program stated that this heat wave will last for three weeks and i could not afford to buy a new AC. To add insult to injury, it was raining today and humidity made me feel like i was breathing through a gasmask.

Apartment was silent, save for sound of a floor fan and my loud panting, amber rays of light filled the room through open window as sun was setting over the horizon. Occasionally, room's orderly rhythm was broken by soft hum of passing cars. An empty water bottle stood on nightstand, dry, just like my body, it was silently mocking me with it's meer existence.

"That's just unbearable..." i softly told myself, as i slowly stoop up from my bed, old metal carcass creaking under my shifting weight. I take a look at my sweat-covered form, my shirt was glued to my body, sitting on me like second skin. Having no other choice but to stew in my own shame, i went to the bathroom in futile attempt to keep myself from melting into a puddle and make sure i wont smell like a gym locker room. After all, having my coworkers tell me i smell like a dump was the last thing i wanted on monday morning.

Slowly shambling my way out of bedroom i stumbled over the leg of a small cabinet and almost lost balance, loud thud resonated through the room as something fell off upper shelf. Turning around, my gaze fell upon a sheathed scramasax i bought few years ago on a medieval history festival.

Gently, i picked up the fallen blade and unsheathed it, after making sure it's still intact i put it on a nearby table. I always had an avid interest for history, especially of medieval era, and this neat combat cleaver was among my most prized possessions.

"I need a cold shower, right now." I said to no one in particular. Opening the door i stepped inside, swiftly peeling sweat-soaked shirt and shorts off my body, i haphazardly threw them into the laundry basket. Without even bothering to take off my underwear i jumped inside the shower and turned on cold water.

"Shame i can't just stay here until temperature drops, water bill will be comically huge" With that thought i stood still under the shower's head, enjoying the sensation of cold water running down my body.

Unknowingly to me, something was lurking in the shadows of late evening.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"How convenient for me..." Drakhor watched as strange biped she was observing for the last two days walked away, pair of scarlet eyes following his every movement from the shadows. Listening closely to her surroundings, she heard an unmistakable thud of a closing door shortly followed by sound of running water.

As human left her alone, her mind returned to the mission at hoof. "Let's begin." ghostly visage of the black goat made a silent step from darkness, in spite of her cloven hoofs, no sound could be heard as she walked. Treading lightly, she stood by her target's bed.

In theory, her task was simple: find a suitable candidate, ensure candidate's readiness and use a spell to transport her (or, in that case, him) to her homeworld. Defacto, finding a suitable creature here was very tedious, as she was unlucky enough to be send to the world in which magisphere was so weak and inessential locals believed it to be a myth, and, unfortunately for her, those few she met who was able to harness it's power was useless to her master's plan.

Using this opportunity, Drakhor put a simple sleep enchantment on the metal carcass, followed shortly by another, much more complex spell. She watched closely as glowing blue runes blended into grey metal, ready for her command for the ritual to begin.

She slowly returned to her hiding spot, waiting for her new associate-to-be to step into the trap. Now, her success was only a question of few hours and her own patience. At first, she planed to leave him behind and return to her search, that is, until she decided to quench her boredom and take a look through ape's dwelling. What she found impressed her so much she decided to send him as her candidate. Suddenly, Drakhor was taken away from her musings by the sound of the opening door and loud noise of bare feet on a floor tile.

Watching as human walked through the door, she could not help herself but grin. He laid down on his bed with a loud sigh and shifted his body to a comfortable position. She observed, as tired human took a paperback book off his nightstand and was reading himself to sleep "Just as planned.". Half an hour later, a combination of some mediocre novel and a sleep spell did it's work. Drakhor watched in anticipation as man's eyes slowly closed, followed shortly by the gentle snoring.

"And now, it's time for the grand finale" leaving her hiding spot behind, she casually walked to the sleeping man. Using her telekinesis she picked up human's shoulder bag off the table and emptied it on a floor. "Let's fill it with something usefull, it will be a shame if you kicked the bucked on the very first day." Taking a close look through the room, she picked up a large knife in a leather sheath, multiple useful books from the closet, some fruits, emergency food bars she heard human talk about, few bright-colored metal cans filled with various drinks from the fridge, bottle of cheap rum and a dressing kit. Unfortunately, she wont be able to send him with more than that, so, it will have to do.

"I did all i can, there is no reason for me to stall any longer." returning to the sleeping man, she threw a cheap book on a floor and put the bag down on his chest. Witch took a deep breath, she knew, that with how poor in arcane energy this world is, she had to make sure her spell wont fail, otherwise, she will have to wait for decades just to restore enough mana to send someone else through the veil, herself included.

Drakhor steadied herself and started her quiet chant, despite her skills, she was nervous. She knew full well, what even if she were to stop her ritual right now, she wont be able to return to Tambelon for many decades.

On that night, Stas disappeared from the face of the Earth, an only witness to this strange event being a random fast food delivery guy, who saw a strange blue light coming from his apartment's window. The police and rescuers will look for clues but wont find anything usefull. He will be declared dead after years of futile search, just another missing person case, which will never be resolved.

Chapter 1: Stranded

Badlands, early morning, date unknown

Among the grey sands of Changeling Badlands, on a southern border of Equestria, something unusual was happening. In lowlands, between three unassuming dunes, a lone changeling stallion quietly slumbered. With a soft thump of a falling canvas bag, grey insectoid turned on his right side.

He was trying to find a comfortable position for his sleep, and, while trying to cuddle into now nonexistent mattress, took a deep breath of coarse sand.

"AUGHHH...*cough!*...*cough!*...BWAH" Coughing harshly, Stas jumped to all fours and desperately tried to get all the dust out of his lungs, as his gaze was blinded by tears. Loose sand shook underneath him, flying in every direction under the weight of his large form.

"БЛЯТЬ, why is there SAND in my fucking bedroom!?" Something was clearly wrong with his mattress, but right now, he couldnt care less. After spending last 20 minutes of his life vomiting sand from his lungs, he finally managed to take a painful but steady breath as tears no longer blinded him.

The very first thing he noticed was his surroundings - grey sand-dunes towered over him on every side, as sun gazed upon him from above. The second thing he noticed was something light-grey right below his eyes.

"Where am i? What the hell is going on?!" trying to assess the situation, he swiftly reached his hand to remove whatever was blocking his vision, only to feel a strong dull pain as he hit himself on a snout with his own hoof.

"OW!" Tears once again shrouded his sight, holding onto his head in pain, he realized he can no longer feel his fingers. Slowly, he raised his hands in front of his face, afraid of what he was about to see. After a moment of silent confusion, he realised he was looking on a pair of light-grey chitinous hooves. Something clicked in his mind and he realised what a thing which interfered with his vision was his own snout.

"This is not real, it's all a figment of my imagination..." A nervous laughter rang out among the sands, he knew what that was a lie, and yet, he refused to accept the bitter truth as it was.

"I was probably kidnapper a-and drugged by s-someone!" In attempt to take his thoughts off this improbable situation, Stas took a look around, trying in vain to ignore his chitinous form. Right beside his legs there was his canvas bag lying on a floor.

He took a deep calming breath, still nervous but now calmer than before. Stas reached for the sling of the bag, only to realise he can't possibly grab it with his blunt hoof. He decided to ignore it and hold his bag with his hoof as it was still an arm, surprisingly enough, it worked without any issue.

Sitting down on the ground, he held the bag in both of his ~~hooves~~ HANDS. The old canvas bag was way heavier than he remembered, not to mention what it was filled to the brim with items. He opened his bags side pocket and stumbled upon another unpleasant fact - his passport and wallet were gone and so was his phone. In their place lay several dry energy biscuit bars from his emergency kit. Second side pocket held yet another item from his emergency case - a dressing kit.

"What kind of psycho kidnaps people just to drop them in the middle of nowhere with they own supplies?" opening the zipper, he reached for the bag's main compartment, there he found four cans of kola and an energy drink, together with a small bag of hard persimmons from his fridge. On top of those meager supplies laid his scramasax. Absurdity of this situation made his eyelid twitch.

Finally, feeling something hard in the next compartment, he went for the last zipper. Multiple books were there. As he lifted those books in his hands, he could only stare in bewilderment at the sight before him. His edgy teenage phase stared back.

"Art of necromancy, Elemental treatise of occult science and all three tomes of King Solomon's Key..." at this point, he could not help himself but be completely dumbfounded. All of that seemed like a fever dream to him and yet he felt completely fine.

"How could anyone know about these? Who looked through my stuff? Why is it in my bag? What is going on?" That, and many more questions ran through his head as he tried to comprehend the situation without panicking.

"Okay, okay Stas, calm down!" Stallion harshly told himself, taking his breath under control and running through calming breathing exercise once again. He placed everything he had on him back in the bag and threw it over his left shoulder.

"Alright, what was it my drill instructor told me back in the forces? If you lost your way in unknown territory - make sure you are safe, calm down and think of your next step..." Deciding what it was the best course of action, Stas began to examine himself for any injuries, taking a close look at his brand-new body in a process.

He was standing on all fours and yet, quadrupedal stance seemed surprisingly comfortable to him . His entire body was covered in a flexible light-grey chitin, which, save for it's unique shine, was almost indistinguishable from leather one would use to make a cloak. His entire torso, back of his neck and joints were protected by thick segmented plates of dark-grey chitin. A pair of grey elytra rested on his back, using his hoof, Stas nudged them aside to take a peek at pair of insectoid wings. Tail, which looked more like a ragged towel than an actual tail, was just as colourless and boring as the rest of his body.

"Wait a minute." Reaching into his bag, Stas unsheathed his knife to use it as a mirror. Staring at his reflection, he saw a pair of colourless insectoid eyes, toothy maw and a fang-shaped gnarled horn. At that, a sudden realization hit him.

He was a changeling from My Little Pony. The MOST boring changeling to ever exist, he looked like someone made a 3D model of a changeling for a game and forgot to add any colours and details whatsoever. He even lacked a crest on his head and hole-riddled legs changelings was famous for.

"I... I guess that happened." at least his voice was the same and he had no visible injuries.

"So, is that supposed to be Badlands?" At very least he hoped so, if he was truly stuck in the world of MLP, maybe, he will be able to at least find the changeling hive before he ran out of supplies. Stas never was a social type, but he hated to be alone, especially in the middle of wilderness.

He had no idea what year or timeline he even ended up at and that was worrying him more than he would like to admit. Understanding that there is no other options, he steadily made his way up, hoping he will be able to find any landmarks. Stas realised very quickly that he had no problems walking on all fours, and he was able to rise up the dune with ease.

What he saw before his eyes did nothing to soothe his heart, everywhere he looked, endless grey desert stretched to the horizon covered by countless barkhans, indistinguishable from one other. Gentle dry wind blew over the desert, shifting sand in it's wake. Rarely, a wind-breathed mountains peaked over the horizon, keeping their silent vigil over dunes. The sun reached its zenith in the cloudless sky.

"Пиздец..." His situation was truly grim, despite the heat of desert no longer bothered him so much, he was hopelessly lost. Loudly swallowing his fear, Stas decided to make his path to the foot of nearest mountain.

Chapter 2: Among the dunes

Somewhere in ~~Nevada~~ Badlands, time and date unknown

"Damn you, Celestia...." Stas treaded the desert for many hours now, but thanks to the fact sun of Equestria was controlled by an actual living being (and through astro-physics defying logic) it was impossible to tell, just how long he was walking for. He long ago gave up on trying to calculate how many kilometers he walked through the desert, as the indistinguishable landscape made it almost impossible.

At this point he could no longer deceive himself, this world was real and so was his new body. A long treck through the desert was more than enough to prove him wrong, but he refused to give up or fall to panic, knowing it would spell his doom.

"I wonder, how does this world even gets warmed properly when the sun is always in the same position? Perhaps, it's actually a flat disk?" Instead of pondering his fate, he spent his time trying to keep the self-destructive thoughts at bay, mostly by trying to make sense of this world. He chuckled weakly, as his imagination drew him a picture of a red-robed unicorn riding on top of a walking chest.

Stas shambled on the ground, occasionally kicking sand with his hooves, the sun watched from above as if it was pondering the fate of a lone changeling, unable to decide if it should show mercy or not.

Thirst and fatigue was getting to him at that point and he decided to seek refuge between two barkhans, just enough to take a short break and drink some water. Trotting slowly, Stas carefully came down a side of a large dune he was standing on.

As he laid down on his stomach, he once again quietly cursed in Russian. Large dunes tower over him on each side, yet Stas found no shadow to hide in. Thankfully, changelings appeared to be a thermophilic species, he would have barely been alive by this point if he remained a human. Even so, inspite of his white chitin and new biology providing him with decent protection from the sun's scorching rays, he was clearly overheating.

"Eh..." Digging into his bag, he took a can of warm beer in his hoof and opened it by grabbing a stay-on-tab with his left hand, thanking whatever deity made this realm for the fact that his hooves were not a useless stumps the animals of Earth had. Taking a sip of warm alcohol, he could not help but scrunch his face in disgust at the bitter taste.

"I suppose it's better than dehydration... or piss." Relaxing his body, he slowly drank from the can without any enthusiasm, trying to savor every drop he could.

"I may need it for a makeshift alarm." Finishing his bitter beverage, he placed the now empty can back in his bag. As he was about to grab another drink, Stas decided to try a little experiment. He remembered that unicorns and changelings were able to use telekinesis in the show, and, since he had nothing better to do as he rested, decided to try and lift the now empty can with the power of his mind.

"Okay, let's give it a shot." Thinking of how he could possible do it, he remembered what the very show which became his reality stated that telekinesis was something which even the weakest of unicorns was able to use on pure instinct. He also realised what he was able to use his hooves as it still were hands as long as he intended to do so.

"I hope it works, it will be very bad if i'am some sort of magicless cripple." Placing an empty can of Baltika before him, he tried to ignite his horn and lift the can with his mind, all the while keeping his doubtful thoughts at bay.

Convincing himself what it should work was hard, but those thoughts quickly disappeared as he saw a gently white light shine from on top of his head. Trying to keep the momentum, he willed himself to grab the can without moving his body. He watched with wide eyes as a aluminium cylinder was covered by a smoky white glow, it looked like a small cloud of mist surrounded the can on all sides, as if it was freshly picked after a night in a fridge. The weird feeling of touching it from every side felt like he was holding something small in a tightly closed palm.

"Yes!" Grinning like a toddler on a Christmas morning, he lifted the can up it the air. Only to underestimate his power and launch it five meters into the sky. He followed the flying can with his eyes, just for it to land and hit him across the snout. It was not painful by any means, but it was a good reminder what he was in uncharted territory and but a damper on his pride.

Using his magic once again, he slowly placed the can back in his bag a took another one without using his hooves. Manipulating smaller objects with his telekinesis was tedious, but after fumbling for few minutes and almost crushing the can he was able to open it without spilling anything.

"May the force be with me!" with that improvised toast, he took a sip of warm beer in celebration.

"*Bwah*... Note to self, magic does not make warm beer taste better." As he drunk his can of liquid disappointment, lifting his head to look around, he noticed something rising over dunes.

"Is that smoke?" Indeed, over the dunes, a faint trail of smoke was rising to the sky, clearly visible on the blue empty background.

"There is no way sand set itself on fire, so this means..." he pondered for a moment before quickly rising to his hooves. With renewed hope in his heart, Stas swiftly climbed on top of a dune he went down an hour ago. From there he could clearly see something he missed before. Few kilometers from his position, dunes gradually lowered in height, making way for a semi-desert filled with dry bushes and rare trees.

There, over the endless sands, a small trail of smoke rised over the horizon, like a lighthouse in a raging sea.

Author's Note

Special thanks to Vahid1900 for pointing out my grammar mistakes!

Chapter 3: Oasis

Changeling Badland, time and date unknown

Without even realising it, Stas made a happy thrill with his wings. While at first he was giddy and excited about this slim glimmer of hope, he quickly forced himself to calm down. Even through he had an actual goal now, he realised there is a lot of questions still unanswered and he had a lot of problems to deal with.

"No need to rush. I don't want to break my legs, right?" He said while holding himself from running down the dune. The very idea of rendering himself helpless while being so close to a possible salvation tempered his ardor enough to put his thoughts back in order.

He could not afford to make rush decisions now, after all, there is a chance that he appeared in this world before Luna's redemption and changelings were nothing more than a myth. Or, his situation could be even worse if he appeared after siege of Canterlot and before the changeling reformation. He knew what if that was the case and he ends up stumbling upon a pony camp (who, considering his horrible luck, might end up being scouts of Equestrian Royal Guard), he will be neck deep in shit.

He carefully descended down the barkhan's smooth side and continued moving at the steady pace, all the while keeping his eyes on the smoke. Watching closely, he realised what that smoke trail looked small and thin, most likely, it was left by a small campfire running low on fuel. Maybe, he was lucky and whoever made it was alone?

Merely an hour later, Stas reached the area where the seemingly endless desert made way for a rocky semi-desert. In normal circumstances, the sight of arid shrubland covered with numerous rocks would been disappointing and unwelcoming, but after he was forced to stare at grey sand for almost an entire day, the sight of twisted shrubbery and dry rocky soil was almost surreal to him.

Gentle dry wind was blowing over the land, carrying sand and rare leaves with it everywhere it went. Stas was trotting through the now much easier terrain, occasionally looking where he placed his hoof to make sure he wont accidentally stumble on a scorpion or a rattlesnake. Natural armor or not, he didnt wanted to check if his chitin was capable of protect him from the snake's fangs or scorpion's stinger and, even more, he had no idea just how poison would affect his new body.

Stas lifted his head once more to make sure he is still walking in correct direction when something caught his eye. Old saxaul stood before him, mere twenty meters away. Approaching it, he noticed how twisted branches creaked with every gust of wind and yellow "leaves" clearly showed to the entire world that this tree was barely holding onto it's existence. He remembered reading about them in a botany book years ago, those trees grow only in deserts, roughly two to twelve meters in height and were known for the resilience.

For a moment, he sat and pondered. Perhaps, he should take a branch off of it? Saxaul wood was hard as bone, weighted almost us much as stone and it might make a somewhat decent club. If whoever made this fire was hostile to him, it will be better to just knock them down with a club rather than use his knife, after all, even if he had everything he might need to dress a bleeding wound, he wont be able to speak with a corpse. Or he was able speak with the dead?

For a moment, his thoughts returned to one very specific book in his bag, to the very chapter which described how exactly medieval black mages was able to speak with spirits of the dead. It made Stas shudder, as he had to idea how a pony would react to meeting an actual necromancer in the middle of nowhere. If he remembered correctly, an only necromancer he ever heard about in My Little Pony canon was Grogar and he doubted dark arts was in high regards in this world. Not to mention, he had no need to go this low.

Right now, club sounded like a very good idea. Igniting his horn, Stas watched how a relatively large branch was surrounded by white mist. Pulling it with great force, he managed to reap the branch off the tree. Before his face, he held a heavy piece of wood in his magic, about half a meter in length, it was more than enough to knock some sense in local wildlife or a random vagabond.

"Let's hope i wont need it..." With this words Stas decided to put it away, only to realise he had nowhere to place it. Grunting in dissatisfaction, he held the heavy branch in his mouth like he seen ponies do in the show, trying his best not to touch it with his tongue. He shivered in disgust as he imagined some poor earth pony working in a pigsty, holding a shovel with his teeth.

An hour later

Finally, after gods know how long, Stas got close to the source of smoke. Deciding caution was a better side of honor, he stood low to the ground as he ascended up a small hill. Slowly rising, he tried his best to make as little noise as possible as he reached the high ground . Looking from above, he was shocked to find a small oasis surrounded on all sides by hills, similar to the one he just climbed.

As if drawn by a hand of a masterful painter, beautiful clean lake shined like a mirror, surrounded by dozens of date palms. There, few meters away from the shallow shore, under a shade of small palm, a single-person tent stood. By it's side, ambers off small fire were burning out a few steps away and a small overturned cauldron layed on a sand beside it.

Stas watched closely for any sight of movement, but something felt wrong. The tiny camp was abandoned in a hurry, yet he saw no traces on the ground. Sun never moved from it's position in the sky, wind fell silent and no noise was heard in the oasis. To Stas, it looked like in this very moment the time itself refused to continue it's pace.

He stood up and treaded softly down the hill, his movement being an only source of noise. Trying to spot anything he might have missed, be it tent's owner or an animal, he walked along the shore, holding his club in his magic. Slowly and carefully, he approach the dying ambers.

"ТВОЮ МАТЬ!" Stas jumped back in shock as he felt something hit him on a leg. As he looked around trying to find what hit him, a loud hiss drew his attention to a pile of sand he just tried to cross. Suddenly, a black scorpion the size of a small house cat dug itself from under the sand, hissing menacingly and brandishing it's red-tinted claws at the changeling.

"Получай, мразь!" Raising the club high above his head, Stas striked down upon an abnormally-large arachnid with all his might. Scorpion tried to lunge towards the larger bug, but was quickly stopped in it's tracks as a large piece of wood hit it with all the force of a panicked stallion. Barely alive, it tried to rise once again and got hit with a branch once more, this time, it's stopped moving completely.

Taking his panicked breath under control, Stas poked the scorpion with his club to make sure it was dead. Panic quickly raised it's ugly head once more, as he remembered what he got stung by it. He raised his stung leg before his face and sighed in relief as he noticed the little bastard was unable to pierce his chitin.

Suddenly, he realised why exactly the camp was abandoned. With haste, he made his way into the small tent. Inside, he saw a pony laying on the small cot. Her physique was closer to that of a Saddle-Arabian, but she still was smaller than Stas, and, in spite of her being covered head to hoof in a arabic-style robe, he was able to catch a glimpse of a bleak orange fur and a sandy-yellow tail. Moving closer to the mare, he realised he was too late, milky white eyes and foam at her mouth was a dead giveaway she was beyond saving.

For a moment, Stas stared at the corpse in silence. He shook his head, breaking away from grim thoughts flooding his mind. He didn't liked what he was about to do, but he had no better options. Taking a look at insides of the tent, he started to look for anything usefull he could take. Marauding was something he never did before, but those things might save his life and the dead pony no longer needed any of that.

First thing he approached was the dead mare herself, he tried to gently move the body with his magic and realised rigor mortis already set in. Stas tried not to think about how that entire thing would look like at The Pearly Gates (if changelings were still allowed to enter human Heaven). He took a look through the robe's pockets in hopes of finding a map, to his disappointment, only things he found was flint and steel, a tiny bag of salt and a light-weighting coin purse. He took all of that anyway.

He decided to take a look at what was inside the coin purse. There was very little coin in there and he counted twenty copper, seven silver and three golden coins. Copper and silver coins were rough around the edges, as if they were cast and than went under press, both of them bore images of a arabic-style citys on heads and arabic letters on tails. Golden coins were different, as they were actually from two different kingdoms. First, was a single Equestrian bit, beautiful and completely symmetric coin of bright yellow gold, on heads it bore Equestrian coat of arms mirrored on other side by an image of Canterlot Palace. Second, there was two golden coins of similar size to Equestrian bit, those coins had some imperfections on the edges and was casted from grey gold, portrait of a vulture-headed griffoness adored one side and was mirrored on the other by untranslatable text with a pair of saif* underneath it.

Next on a line was saddle-bags by the wall. Gently putting down the deceased mare whose body he desecrated, he approach the pair of small saddle bags and started to rummage through them. First bag was filled with various foods, some dried dates, a small bag of farik* and two waterskins, one of which was empty. Uncorking the full one, he took a sniff and realised it was filled with hamr*. He corked it back, fighting his temptation to down it all.

Second bag greeted him with a sight of the large amount of different stuff. He found some sort of a journal, three rolls of bandages, some rope, a sheathed dagger, an empty clay vessel, a spare robe, inkwell and a pair of quills. And finally, what looked like a map. Excited, he unfolded ~~the looted~~ his map and took a look. His smile faded.

The map itself was written in what seems to be arabic and clearly was made by someone who had no idea how to make a proper map, in short, to Stas it looked like a toy map a kindergardener would make to search for "treasure" with his playmates. There was no directions, barely any landmarks and it was impossible to say just how much distance he had to cover to reach any of them. Even if there was any of the information he required to find his way out, it was written down in a language he cant read. Trying to find any clues, he took a quick look through the journal, just to find out it was just as useless to him.

Still, this map was somewhat useful - he found out there was a cave somewhere within this oasis and what seems to be a road somewhere nearby, he just had to figure out what direction to follow. But now, he had some work to do.

First of all, he is going to check the cave he found on the map. Exiting the tent with map in tow, he looked around, trying to find out where it was based on a shape of hills around oasis and how they were depicted on the drawing. Quickly enough, he figured out that it was merely fifty or so meters away from where used-to-be adventurer placed her tent. Turning to his right, he made his way towards the entrance, preparing his club to strike down any scorpion who might decide to jump him from the sands.

Reaching the cave's entrance he stood before it, gazing into pitch-black darkness before him. At first, he though about turning around and making his way back to search for a torch or a lamp he might have missed in the camp. Or he could reignite still dying flames of the campfire and use it to set some wood ablaze to use as a torch.

Stas gently smacked himself on the face when he remembered he could use his magic to light the way. Powering up his horn, he immediately regretted it as a cacophony of loud hissing reached his ears. On a small cave's floor dozens of black scorpions stoop up in agitation, clearly unhappy about blinding light filling their nest. They ranged in size from that of a rat to a small dog and every single one of them was very mad, still, they did not approached him. Stas slowly backed down from the nest, making sure not to extinguish his horn. Turning around, he made a mad dash back to the tent, thankfully, not followed by anything.

As he returned to the tent, he made sure to gather everything usefull he found. After gathering everything he could carry and calming down, he realised what no scorpions were following him. He once again gazed upon the dead pony.

"I already took her stuff, might as well do her a favor." With that though, he took the body outside. Using his magic, he dug a shallow grave in the warm sand of oasis under one of many palmes surrounding the lake. Placing the body inside he placed the dead mares journal with her, after that, he filled the pit with sand and covered it with some large rocks he found around the oasis. It was a shoddy grave at best, but he cant do any better. He didn't knew any dirges or prayers, but he decided to stay by the grave for a few minutes.

After Stas was done, he apologised to the mare for looting her body and moved to pack the tent and the cauldron for himself, filling an empty waterskin with water from oasis on his way back. Still, he had hope, after all, she was able to reach this place with such a meager selection of supplies, Stas only needs to figure out where the road is.

Author's Note

1)Farik (also known as freekeh) - grain, made from roasted young wheat, it's still fairly popular in arabic countries.

2)Hamr - arabic fruit wine older than Islam, which was mostly made from fermented dates or grape.

3)Saif - a wide termin, used to describe any curved sword of Middle Eastern origin, grandfather of scimitars.

Sorry for not including any interactions with actual locals, i got inspired to make a world-building chapter and experiment with chapter size, kinda forgot i told you about.

Chapter 4: Where to go?

Border of Changeling Wasteland, time and date unknown

Stas had a vague concept a of plan, but it wont be easy to fulfill it. First of all, finding where the road is was easier said than done, after all, the dead mare never bothered to write her annotations in Russian or English. Second, what were the chances he would meet someone who will be able to understand him? Sure, English was an option he could use (that Equestrian bit he looted had English text on it), but he was clearly stuck in the middle of what seems to be a medieval-era khalifat* and he had no idea how to even pronounce a single word in Arabic. For fuck sake, the dagger he found was made of tin bronze. And finally, the last problem, how would locals react to him? He must admit, if he saw a fay or a ghoul casually walking in his home town he would probably freaked out and went for his dad's TOZ*.

Still, as he packed his meager belongings, he decided to leave the last two problems for the future Stas, after all, current Stas is yet to meet anyone who was not dead. The tent was packed and secured on his back with a rope. Everything else, including the poorly made clay bowl and a small bag of salt, was divided between his shoulder and saddle bags. The only exceptions were the spare robe and the cauldron filled with burnt porridge.

"I'am pretty sure Saddle Arabians were at least twice as tall as a normal pony..." The sun-bleached cotton robe was made for a smaller, thinner frame, and was way too small for a large changeling stallion like Stas. Looking closely at the robe, he realised that he was at least a head taller than it's previous owner. To say he was stumped by this revelation would be an understatement. He wondered, was this mare that small or it was him who is a giant?

Even so, he could put it to good use. Unsheathing his knife, he cut into the cotton fabric, making himself a makeshift cloak. It did not cover him completely, his knees and hoofs were still visible from underneath. And so, the rest of the robe was cut into smaller strips, which he used to wrap his legs and head. He tried to pick up his club, to make sure his hoof wraps did not impaired his grip and found out they didn't even weaken it. And as he finished working on his improvised outfit, he walked to the lake's shore to take a look at his work. It wasn't that great, in fact, those wraps made him look like a changeling who tried to cosplay a tusken raider while on a tight budget. Or, maybe, he looked like Malpais Legate, depending on who you asked. However, it will provide him some additional protection from the harsh desert's elements and conseal his buggy features from the others, at least from a distance.

Next on the line was a cauldron. Stas will need some time to clean it from the stale burnt porridge, but the ability to cook raw food on his own will be worth it. He sure as hell will be cooked if he got himself a food poisoning while in the middle of nowhere without any medicine. Grabbing the small copper pot with his magic, he placed it into the water and started to scrub it with sand, making sure to get every single stain.

"Damn, that's really convenient, i don't even need to get myself wet or feel that slop on my skin." He had the ability to use magic for barely a day, but he already liked everything about it. Dare he say, Stas already considered it to be a fair exchange for his arms. Especially, after it allowed him to strike that scorpion dead from a save distance.

As he almost finished cleaning his pot, he was interrupted by the sound of his stomach growling. Stas was travelling for almost an entire day without eating anything and his innards decided it was a good time to remind him about it. Taking his pot from the water and putting it on a closest large rock to dry, he raised his head to the tops of date palms on his right side. To his delight, they were ripe with fresh fruit. Using his magic, he reached ten meters up into the air, to the very top of the tree and plucked himself some fresh dates. As he ate, he realised his sharp teeth could bite through the seeds with ease and noted that dates of this world were no different from those he had on Earth. Sweet taste, somewhat similar to caramel, felt even better after his misadventure.

Finishing with his simple meal, he wrapped his face back in cloth and put the now mostly dry pot in his saddle bag. Now, how could he possibly find the road? He turned his head backwards and took a look on his back, where a pair of wings were concealed underneath his cloak and elytra. Stas quickly threw that idea out of metaphorical window, humans were not ment to fly and, as a result, he had absolutely no idea how to even move those new muscles on his back. Not to mention that even if he was able and knew how to fly in his new body, he might and up attracting some unwanted attention to himself. Sure, he was able to kill a lone scorpion, but what if he was discovered by a pack of wild hyenas or some mythological monster like an ifrit?

Suddenly, he remembered something else. Flight and magic were not the only abilities which could give him advantage in this situation. In the show, changelings were able to walk on walls if they wanted too. Maybe, he could use this ability to climb the tallest palm in the oasis and find the road from the vantage point?

He decided to try just that. Finding the tallest tree, Stas realised it was close to the scorpion's cave, he carefully approached it, watching his every step in hopes of avoiding any pissed-off arachnids. Approaching the palm, he carefully placed his bags on the soft sand and placed his right front leg on the trunk. He gripped onto the bark with all his might and tried to move his leg, making sure he had a firm grip. He placed his left front leg next and lifted himself like he used to do on the wall bars, his hind legs dangling half a meter above ground. Stas tried to place his right hind leg on the trunk and grab onto it, he was very surprised when he was able to do so without any issue. It didn't even felt wrong to him.

"I guess those rudimentary monkey genes were waiting for that moment my entire life." With that thought, he started to slowly ascend up the tree, making his best impression of a coconut crab. He carefully placed every step to make sure he wont fall off the tree. Stas climbed to the very top of the palm, accidentally dropping a large cluster of dates on the ground in the process. View before his eyes was nothing special to him at this point, semi-desert covered everything he could see and large grey dunes were poking their ugly heads on the horizon. Rare weathered mountains looked at him from their rightful places, as if intrigued by unusual guest travelling through their land.

And even so, from his vantage point he saw nothing usefull to him. Disappointed, Stas decided to carefully climb down the tree. His emotions distracted him, just enough for a minor slip, but it was more than enough. Stepping onto a smooth and slippery palm leaf, he lost his balance and plummeted fifteen meters to the ground, falling on his back with inhuman screech of panic. Air left his lungs and as he was lying on the ground, a crystal clear memory of how he fell off the rotten ladder while wearing a plate carrier back in the army kept replaying itself through his mind. He will never forget that incident, nor he will ever forget his bayonet combat training. Why do they even teach knife combat to conscripts?

"Ouch..." Stas remained still on the ground as his entire back flared with pain, glad that he was an only living being who will ever learn about this embarrassment. Slowly, he turned his head to the side and took a look around, making sure he didn't fell on top of his stuff. Losing his precious supplies to a shattered inkwell would been even worse than falling off the tree. He was hit on a side of his head with a date, as if the palm itself decided to add insult to his injury.

Hissing in pain, he slowly stood up from his spot and shambled to his bags. Sitting on the sand beside them, he made sure nothing got inside and just sat there, waiting for the pain to go away. He mused on his next move and came to conclusion his only choice was to use "fuck around and find out" tactic. In short, he will travel in different directions in hopes of finding his way out, in case he got unlucky, which was very likely, he will backtrack his way back to oasis and try finding the road again after resting and refilling his supplies. In worst case scenario, he could try staying here in hopes of a passing caravan making a stop here, then he might be able to join them or follow behind to reach the closest road. It was a bad idea, but he had more than enough water, dates and, in worst case scenario, scorpion meat, to last him a month or a few. On a matter of scorpions, what do those little shits even eat here? Was it fruit?

Shaking his head, Stas raised on his hooves and put the bags on his back, slightly wincing from pain in the process. He walked forward and stood on a small patch of land between two hills. Taking one of the larger twigs with his magic from a dead bush nearby, he placed it into the ground, using it as a makeshift landmark to mark which direction he followed from oasis, to make sure he wont go there again if he ever had to make his way back, that is.

"Была не была, let's go..." With those words, he made a step away from the relative safety of oasis.

Author's Note

1) Khalifat - feodal arabic state, usually build on theocratic principals.

2) TOZ - short for Тульский оружейный завод, or Tula's Weapon Factory on English, all models of hunting rifles or shotguns produced on those plants are called TOZ by most Russian-speaking people.

Dont you hate it when MC of a serious story acts like a capricious manchild?

Chapter 5: Reconnaissance in force

Changeling Wasteland - Southern City-States border, time and date unknown.

Among the sands, about ten kilometers away from the scorpion-infested oasis, one very bored changeling stallion was wandering aimlessly in hopes of finding any sight of civilization. He was quietly singing to himself, to stave off the boredom of his dull travel.

"...Two friends were walking home -Down the forest road - Suddenly a gang of bandits - Came out of the trees, o-oh...*" Stas was bored out of his mind and was singing to himself any songs he could remember, no matter how grim or childish those songs are. He wandered through the desert, rarely climbing any dunes, cliffs or trees he found to give himself a vantage point and practice his creepy-crawly skills. As he ascended up yet another tree, he noticed a large ravine cutting it's way through the sands, like a fresh gaping wound on the body of earth itself.

He was curious to take a look into the ravine, hoping that there might be something in there, like a stone quarry or a mine shaft. Also, the large canyon was almost three kilometers in length, and he thought it might be easier for him to pass directly through it by just climbing the sandstone walls on both sides.

Stas carefully approached it from the side. Making sure he had stable ground underneath him, he took a peak into the ravine's stone depths. Weathered sandstone met his sight and so did the bottomless dark abyss on it's bottom, as it greedily devoured small streams of sand falling into it from canyon's walls. On his side of abyss, about twenty meters to his right, he noticed a small ledge. This ledge, placed rougly four or five meters below him, was apparently leading into a cave.

Realising there is no way for him to cross the ravine without risking plummeting to his doom or getting stuck on the bottom, he was about to turn back and go around it's right edge when something caught his sight. As shadows suddenly grew in size, he raised his gaze to the sun above his head. Stas watched in utter bewilderment as the sun traveled through the sky with a speed simply impossible for a normal star, colossal ball of superheated plasma fell under the horizon within seconds.

Just as swiftly as it fell, sun was replaced in the sky by the pale moon of enormous size and the canvas of bright stars. Stas watched as it raised over his head bearing the distinct visage of Nightmare Moon as she watched from her prison from above this land. Almost immediately, unnatural cold fell over the desert as Nightmare Moon's scornful sight traveled across the land, staring on the world below her with millenia of resentment. Stas shivered in his carapace, as he felt like a prey under the longing stare of a hidden predator.

Lifting his head, Stas made a grave mistake and locked his eyes with a fallen alicorn. He felt his heart beat faster in fear as he stared upon the moon. He attracted her attention. Nightmare moon returned his gaze, black malevolent eye piercing him to his very soul as Princess of the Night judged him with disdain in her eye. He felt his body grow cold under pressure of goddesses cold gaze as the very stars drowned in endless darkness. Warped shadows loomed closer as they witnessed what knowledge he carried, whispering in tongues long-dead promises of power and great rewards in exchange for his loyalty, voice of Nightmare being the loudest among the cacophony. With great effort, Stas looked away and felt shadows retreat, leaving to return another night.

He cant stay here in the open, he just cant. Thinking quickly, he descent down into the ravine below with all the haste he could afford and hid in cave he saw earlier, not even bothering to check how safe it was in the first place.

He will stay awake for many hours, hiding from the light of the moon by the small cave's backwall, afraid of eyes and voices from the dark. By midnight, fatigue will take it's toll and he will fall asleep, in hopes of forgetting this night like a horrible dream.

Awakening from his slumber, many hours after sunrise, he felt thirst claw at his throat. Stas uncorked the waterskin and took few sips, trying to remember why he went into this cave in the first place. In spite of his efforts, he cant remember what happened after sundown and yet, small voice in the back of his head told him to never again lock eyes with the Mistress of the Moon.

He sat on cave's sandy floor in silence as he was having his breakfast, shivering from a seemingly absurd thought. Stas looked into the darkness surrounding him with sense of unease, as if he was expecting something to be there, watching him. He wondered, just what exactly happened yesterday?

Stas raised from the floor and shaked the sand off his form, he was about to make his way out of this cave as a sudden noise broke the silence. Above him, like a meer whisper of wind over dunes, he could barely hear the sound of multiple voices speaking in Arabic, all of them female.

Slowly, afraid to make a noise as if it could scare those voices away, he walked to the entrance and looked above his head to the edge of ravine. Voices became louder. For a moment, he stood there, wondering if those voices were real or he was going crazy.

Silently walking across the canyon's wall like a spider, he raised his head above the ledge, just enough to take a look at who could possibly be here in the middle of nowhere. To his relief, those voices were more than real.

Three figures stood with their backs to the ravine, about fifteen meters away. A kestrel-headed griffoness with maroon feathers was actively gesticulating as she was telling some sort of a story to a pair of tall ponies. A light-blue unicorn with a long black mane and a brown earth pony with short chestnut-colored mane stood beside her, clearly tired of her talking. Being a changeling, he could feel pride and enthusiasm from the hen, while both mares tasted like annoyance and boredom. He had no idea how he knew what those emotions tasted like, but he simply didnt cared, believing it's something all changelings were aware of on instinct.

All three of them had small backpacks and were covered in tan cloth, hiding them from desert's harsh weather. And yet, something was clearly wrong about them. First off all, three women had their heads and bodies fully covered, as if they were intentionally hiding everything but their eyes. Second, griffoness and earth pony were wearing what seemed to be light leather armor on top of their robes and they were armed, earth pony had a saif on her belt and the hen brandished a small mace as she was telling her story.

"Who are they?" This was a very valid thought. This group looked weird to him, even sketchy. Were those some sort of bandits? Maybe a travelling unicorn noble with her bodyguards? But why would they be here out of all places? Now that he thought about it, they were probably nomads, after all, if scorpions like those in the oasis were commonplace here, it would make sense to be armed at all times.

He had a decision to make and, after a taking a moment to decide, he realised that trying to talk with them was the best option he had. Who knows how would they react if they were to discover him tailing behind their group and hiding until they left was even worse to him. He crawled on the desert's floor and, after hiding his scramasax to make sure he wont look threatening (which is kinda hard, considering he was bigger than all of them) called them.

"Hey!" Stas saw all three of them quickly turn to face him with feeling of fright and genuine surprise. Seeing him, all three looked bewildered, as if they were not expecting to meet anyone else here, especially someone like Stas. While they spoke in their language, Stas could feel something strange radiating from the trio. The sense of fear and surprise they felt were quickly replaced by... sense of joy and lust?

Slowly, trio made their way towards Stas, ogling him with a sight which screamed to him he is about to get molested. Suddenly, he could feel fear from the griffoness as she got closer, hen took a quick step back and screeched something which made both mares freeze with fear. She pointed a claw at him and said something to the rest, earth pony got to her side and a unicorn took shelter behind the duo. With a sense of mild panic, they were talking about him.

Stas realised they must have seen a glimpse of chitin from underneath his disguise and now were scared of him. Suddenly, unicorn screamed something and all three turned their heads to him. Mare told something to the other two, and fear was quickly replaced with grim determination and hostility. Earth pony and griffoness armed themself and unicorn ignited her horn with a spell ready to be unleashed. Stas could feel their murderous intent in the air.

Music for this segment:

https://youtu.be/_vwB_0L3r8w

Earth pony and griffoness jumped to the sides. With a loud crack of magical discharge unicorn launched a large fireball towards the changeling. Stas jumped to the right with fear and all the speed his body could master, managing to successfully dodge. The destructive spell went wide, falling into the canyon behind him.

Stas realised he had to deal with a sorceress before she turned him into a fine piece of Chinese cousine. And he had to deal with her quickly. As the mare stood still, charging yet another spell, Stas lifted a large rock off the ground with his magic and threw it at unicorn, aiming for the head.

In his panic, he did not realised just how much power he used to throw it. With a sound of whistling air, the stone hit the unicorn. A loud crack resonated through the desert as sorceress got hit on her neck, force of impact was more than enough to snap her spine in two. Stas could feel her emotions fade away as unicorn silently crumbled to the ground.

"Fatima!" Earth pony on his left screamed with anguish as the dead body hit the floor. Enraged, she rushed towards the stallion, holding the saif in her mouth. She took a wild swing, trying to behead him in her anger.

Thinking quickly, Stas dodged to his left, placing her between himself and charging griffoness. Earth pony barely had enough time to stop herself from falling down, stopping mere centimeters from the ledge.

Seeing this opportunity, Stas used his magic to catch the mare by the saddlebag and pushed her into the ravine. For a moment, he saw her eyes widen in fear as she realised what he did. With a scream of terror, the earth pony fell down, plummeting hundreds of meters to her doom.

He saw the griffoness from the corner of his eye, quickly approaching him while using her wings to propel herself forward. She silently flew at him, holding her mace high above her head in hopes of ending him with a single strike.

Waiting for her to get closer, Stas unsheathed his scramasax and parried the blow, trowing his attacker backwards. Using the moment as she was defenceless, he threw the large steel blade forward. He felt hens fear intensify for a moment as the cleaver dug deeply into her neck, ripping through the cloth and flesh with ease.

Dropping her mace, kestrel-headed griffoness fell on the ground, holding her throat with both her claws in desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Within seconds, she laid motionless in a pool of crimson sand.

"OH FUCK, OH FUCK! WHAT DO I DO?!" Stas stood silent, shaking in fear of what he just did while staring at the dead hen. Sure, he was trained to kill in the army, but he never thought he will actually have to kill someone sapient!

"Why would i be sorry? They tried to kill me first!" The small voice whispered from the back of his mind as he tried to calm down. They tried to kill him, so much was true, but it only explained his actions, not excused them. Today, he took three lives and he was terrified.

"I-I need to g-go, there could be more of them..." Stas ripped his gaze away from the motionless body and run away, afraid of being discovered once again.

Amina laid motionless on the ground by the barkhan, waiting for the monster who just killed the rest of her group to leave. Five minutes after she saw it ran away, she finally had enough courage to raise onto her shaking hooves.

"Holy buck..." At first she thought today will be an easy day. Ataman* send her with Fatima, Layla and Abda to gather scorpion poison at the Camel's Rest oasis for the next ambush. The trading caravan from Equestria was making it's way to the Al-Telar and ataman put her entire gang to work in hopes of taking northerner's goods in the easy fight.

But, as Amina just witnessed, luck was not on their side. She left her accomplices for a minute to take a leak in peace just to hear Fatima's call to arms. Quickly finishing her dirty deed she rushed into the battle just to witness one of Shaitan's daughters throw Layla off the cliff and cut Abda open with a massive steel cleaver.

She spend last three years of her life ambushing caravans and ransacking villages on the borders of Arabia and yet, she never was so afraid. What those three idiots were even thinking trying to kill a bug-demon armed with a steel cleaver the size of northerner's entire leg!? Even she still cant afford to buy herself a steel blade after three years!

".... Let's not waste usefull stuff." Amina walked closer to the bodies and, after making sure she is alone, cut their coin purses and started to rummage through the bags. She tried not to think about how she is going to explain to the ataman why she didnt brought any poison or what happened to the rest of her squad.

Author's Note

1) Fan-made English translation of "Two friends and bandits" by Russian punk-rock group "King and Jester".
Source, for those who are curious: https://youtu.be/-QQ86GmL0vs

2)Ataman - ringleader or robber baron.

PS: here is violence with a side of racism, enjoy

Chapter 6: By the oasis shore

Camel's Rest, time and date unknown

Almost silent sound of hectic gallop could be heard, crunching of sand following every step of a running changeling. Small rodents, insects and rare reptiles fled in fear, afraid of being crushed under massive hooves of a panicked stallion.

After what seemed like an eternity of running, Stas found himself once again in the oasis, he was laying on his stomach by the shore of the lake, hiding underneath the shade of a palm. Waterskin, which used to hold hamr, laid to his side, empty and forgotten. He didn't remembered how he returned here, nor did he cared.

Greyish dunes looked even more oppressive than they ever been. Mountains, everlasting giant they are, looked down upon him, like a stare of a judges, about to announce their sentence. Warm oasis, once his shelter from the desert, felt cold and unwelcoming. He felt like even the mare he buried looked upon him with disappointment from her grave.

Weak wind shaked the palms above his head, moving the small grains of sand with it's every breath. Blue cloudless sky was just as is still as ever.

He stared into mirror-like surface of the crystal clean lake, trying in vain to reason with his guilt. He stared into his empty white eyes, which did not belonged to him, as he once remembered his actions. A sickening crack of bones, desperate scream of fear, motionless feathered body in a pool of crimson. They met him every single time he tried to close his eyes.

"Eyes are mirror to one's soul.... So why are mine so empty?" Stas looked once again into the lake, blissful haze of alcohol barely helping him. He used to be a soldier, just like many of his colleagues and friends. His drill sergeants always told him there might come a day when he will have to choose between his life and life of a stranger. He knew so much was true, but he hoped this day will never come, after all, his trainers never told him how to deal with guilt.

How long Stas stayed by this shore, unable to tear his gaze away? He cant remember. Was it mere minutes or many hours?
It did not mattered.

Stas didnt even noticed how the sun fell over the horizon, making place for the moon to rise once more.Changelings had a much better eyesight than most races of this world, only creatures who could see just as good in darkness being thestrals, low light of the moon barely impacting sight of both.

In his stupor, he only noticed it when he saw the moon rising in the lake's mirror shine, adorned by the portrait of night's corrupted Mistress. Once again, he could feel her gaze upon him, still just as interested and judging as before. And yet, something was different tonight.

Reflection of the goddess looked at him with rapt attention, a flicker of respect sparkling in her eye. She knew what happened. And she liked it.

"...Лишь зловещая луна в мои муки влюблена...*" Hint of amusement was seen upon Moon's face. Stas lifted his gaze as he noticed a ghostly visage standing upon the surface of oasis, a meer trace of imprisoned princess, barely visible even to the mostly-magical creatures such as changelings. Shadow of Nightmare Moon approached him with slow regal stride, suitable for the powerful being of her standing.

"You enjoyed the show, didn't you?" She stopped at his words, mere steps away from his prone form. He raised his gaze, not daring to look in her eyes. Nightmare looked at him in a patronizing way, like a mother who just witnessed her child touch the hot pot with his bare hoof.

He felt himself calm down as her whisper reached his ears, reassuring him in righteousness of his actions, telling him of every sin those three did under the light of her moon. Knowing those three had it coming made him feel better, even if barely. After all, now he knew they would not showed him any mercy as well.

"Why are you here?" Stas could not help himself but ask the fallen goddess. Moon looked down upon his prone form, once again offering him her patronage in this journey if he was to bend the knee.

"No." Stas knew who she is, he knew what eternal night would mean for this world. He didnt wanted to doom this world, even if it means defying the will of a literal god. It was not a TV show anymore and he didn't knew if it was possible to live in a world of endless night, even if Starlight's timeline travelling ark stated it is possible.

She expected this. With a disappointed shake of her head, Nightmare let him know her offer still stands, he only needs to call upon her name under light of her moon and she shall answer. It is hard to lose attention of the gods once you interested them, She will be watching.

Slowly, Nightmare looked to her right and pointed her hoof to the direction he came from after his clash with brigands*. Reluctantly, afraid to make a wrong move, Stas followed her gaze and witnessed something which terrified him to his very soul.

From between two of the hills surrounding the oasis in protective ring, three hundred meters away, a light of fire steadily approached. A dozens of torches, moving towards the oasis at the slow pace.

Not even noticing how his company returned to shadows, Stas started to gather his stuff in attempt to leave this place behind. He knew who was moving towards him and if they are anything like the bandits of Earth's medieval era, he cant afford to get caught. Quickly raising his bags from the sand, he checked them to make sure he didn't forgot anything usefull. Everything was in it's rightful place, including some of the fresh food he gathered.

Looking for where he could quickly escape his pursuers, Stas picked direction at random and made his way out, leaving the oasis behind with all it's bounties. He made sure to try his best to hide his tracks, climbing over cliffs and trowing sand over his tracks to slow the bandits down.

He can drown in his guilt later, now, he had to run.

To say Zira was mad will be an understatement. The zebra mare was already pissed when one of her better lackeys returned alone without any poison. At first she thought those morons forgot to take any bottles for the poison or did something equally stupid. Oh how she wish it was the case. Instead, Amina told her about the ambush which those four got into on their way to Camel's Rest.

If it was not for the fact that Amina proved herself to be somewhat worthy of her trust, she would have never believed the story and had her guards beat the moron until she told the truth. Apparently, her group encountered one of the changeling-warriors on their way to the oasis, a massive armored beast wielding a steel cleaver wore a disguise and tried to lure them into a trap by pretending to be a blind stallion. The damned insect attacked them once they got close, killing the three of them within seconds. Amina, apparently, was able to escape while it tore it's way through the other three.

Zira knew something was up with the story, a lot of details sounded made up. Still, she decided to trust her accomplice and send somepony to the place of the battle. Her underlings returned back few hours later, telling her about three dead bodies and the massive hoof prints leading to the oasis.

That was bad. She needs that poison to ambush Equestrian caravan. And, as she sends her mares to get it, she learns that Shaitan's daughters made camp in the damned oasis and were ambushing her gang from there?! Judging by the information her informant got, those damned northern traders were LOADED and she cant let them pass!

And now, as she gathered her gang and decided to beat changelings out of there, they find nothing! Her gang was combing the oasis for an hour and they cant find any trace of the damned bugs!

"BOSS, YEA NEED TO SEE THIS!" Zira turned her head to the lake and trotted to the sound of her mare's voice, scales of her lamellar armor gleaming menacingly as she approached.

"What is it?" She asked calmly. The mare pointed her at the shore, where the imprint of a body left it's mark on the sand. A massive imprint with barely visible lines where segmentation on a chitin of a changeling would normally be, easily big enough to rival the size of a small minotaur.

"So, anything else?" She asked the unicorn, looking closely at the traces left by a warrior.

"Yeah, gals over dere also found remnants of a camp and a grave..." The unicorn pointed to the small patch of land near the cave, where two mares were already busy digging into the sand.

Many would call Zira a monster and a scoundrel, and those ponies would be right, but she will never let any creature kill her gang members and leave unpunished.

"So, the bitch is alone.... FIND HER!" Afraid of their leader's anger, mares jumped to their hooves and armed themself.

Following the tracks in the dark of the night will be hard, but even so, brigands set off in pursuit.

Author's Note

1) "Only the sinister moon is in love with my torment" - Lyrics from "Necromancer" by "King and Jester"

2) Brigand - old termin for bandit.

Chapter 7: Small steps corrupt

Border of Changeling Wasteland, midnight, date unknown

Under the light of the pale moon, among the silent night, normally disturbed only by thrills of crickets and rare sound of wandering predator, something else was happening. A lone changeling was running, using his night vision to his advantage, he was rarely stopping to hide his tracks from his pursuers.

He left barely any tracks in the oasis and was able to win himself some time, but even so, he was not off the hook just yet. Bandits were on his tail, incited by the wraith of their ataman and their own thirst for revenge, they slowly moved through the sands in the light of the torches, combing the desert for any sights of the runaway. Griffons and rare pegasi took to the skies, hoping to catch the sight of the his fleeing form under the moonlight.

Stas quickly lost his breath after running through the treacherous terrain, after climbing over another cliff, which would be an impossible feet for any other equine, he stood still by the crest of stone. He witnessed almost a dozen winged figures take flight from the oasis merely half-an-hour ago and he knew they were looking for him. Hiding under the ledge of a cliff Stas watched as yet another shadow quickly passed his hiding place.

Stopping to catch his breath was necessary and yet he felt like he could not afford to stop. Thinking about what could possibly give him an advantage, he reached into his bag and downed the energy drink he had, hoping that he was more of a mammal than an insect and caffeine wont poison him*. Waiting a little more, he jumped from his cover and made a run for it.

It was a mistake. Almost immediately as he left his cover something went past him, five meters to the right of his head an arrow landed, deeply piercing into the sandy ground. A loud shrill scream of a falcon could be heard as one of the flying brigands spotted him, attracting attention of the others. One of the figures made it's way towards the oasis.

With renewed motivation Stas bolted forward, for a moment he turned his head backwards and saw around ten of the bandits flying towards him.

Getting closer, they started to pepper him with arrows from on high. Thankfully to him, those bandits were not professional soldiers and never had the opportunity to learn how to properly shoot on flight as they preferred to attack unsuspecting victims from an ambush. Arrows and small spears went wide off the mark as darkness and the lack of proper training made it almost impossible for the brigands to hit him.

One of the makeshift arrows hit him on his back, too weak to properly pierce the thick natural armor of a large insect, it bounced off harmlessly. As bandits almost run out of ammunition, one of them decided to try something different. Losing her patience, one of pegasi tried to dive bomb him. Firmly taking one of the javelins in her hooves, she angled her wings and dropped down, trying to impale his back as he ran.

Once again, his night vision proved it's worth. Stas noticed the shadow of the winged pony approach him in the moonlight and dodged to the side. The pegasus clearly did not expected this, she made an attempt to rise back into the sky only to crash at full speed into a boulder she was unable to see in the darkness. With a loud crack of bones the body fell limp as one of the bandits managed to recklessly kill herself.

This incident, however, only enraged his enemies further. However, witnessing the fate of one of their own, none dared to try their luck and dive down or land and fight a changeling who killed four of them in the complete darkness. So, without any other options, they tailed the fleeing beetle behind, showing the way to the rest and rarely taking potshots.

That proven to be more problematic. Brigands, now knowing where is the target of their wraith, followed their flying accomplices, quickly closing the distance between themself and Stas. They lacked a proper combat training he had, but those sands were their home and even an actual changeling warrior wont be able to fight all fifty of them.

Stas turned his head once again and witnessed the lights of fire quickly approach through the dunes, followed shortly by voices of the bandits. He didn't knew Arabic, but he understood that threats and curses were exactly what he heard.

Another arrow wheezed it's way past him, this time from his left and much closer to it's mark. They were getting closer. Disorganised groups of bandits made their way towards the galloping changeling, brandishing a large assortment of weaponry and armor.

He saw an opportunity, a relatively large hill with steep edges and a flat top only a changeling or a winged creature will be able to get onto poked it's head from the sands before him, easily seven or so meters in height. With all the haste his tired body could make, he climbed on top of it. He saw that bandits got closer, light of torches surrounding his shelter from every side. Flying bandits slowed their pace and started to make circles above him like a flock of vultures over the dying animal.

Stas had no idea what to do. Should he surrender himself in hopes that they wont kill him? Stop and make his final stand in hopes of taking down as many of the bastards as he could before they kill him? Jump down and try to run again?

As he tried to come to a decision, he made a mistake and stopped. Almost immediately another arrow took flight, this time finding it's mark. Bronze tipped projectile hit him on a softer chitin of his ankle below the joint, the sharp needle-like tip of armor-piercing arrow was easily visible on the other side of his leg as it pierced through it.

With a sharp bug-like screech of pain, Stas dropped on the ground. His heart sunk even lower in his chest as he heard an unmistakable sound of the weathered old stone cracking under the weight of his massive body. He screamed once again as stone broke beneath him and he plummeted down.

He fell down painfully, peppered from above by the gravel and sand. Stas started to cough as dust and sand flew into the air, stale air filled his lungs, disturbed for the first time in gods know how long. Thankfully, unlike his lungs, his membranous eyes were protected from the dust. Using the moment as he was hidden by the dust he crawled away, in hopes that the darkness of the cave would conseal him from the eyes of his pursuers.

He laid still on the ground, as he heard some bandits talk from above, unwilling to jump down into the darkness and face him, they quickly retreated. As he laid on the ground waiting, the dust finally settled and he was able to see his surroundings. To his surprise, instead of the natural cave a much different sight greeted him.

He fell into a tomb. Weathered stone bricks were everywhere, bearing the still colored images set in stone, words of the unknown to him tongue reduced to unreadable mess were written among them. Many shelves were dug into the walls, filled with skeletons of ponies wearing bronze armor, their weapons laying by their sides in almost pristine condition.

Stas felt the stale air become even heavier in his lungs, as an old tomb spreads out before his eyes, filled with a company worth of dead warriors who found their final rest here centuries ago. He felt like an outsider seeing something no one was ever supposed to.

If it was not for his dire situation, he would probably already left, leaving the soldiers to their rest. Shamefully, he could not afford to do so right now. He had to find a way out of his troubles first. He stood slowly, checking just how much his leg was fucked. It wasn't that bad, through it was painful, the arrow passed cleanly without hitting the bone and his only serious problem was the dust getting into the wound. Thankfully, he still had a bottle of rum and pure water to clean it.

With a grunt of pain he pushed the arrow a little forward and cut the tip off, extracting the rest of the shaft from the other side. As he stood there, working on his leg and desperately thinking of the way out of this mess, a sudden thought entered his mind. A sudden though about a midnight black book, which called upon him like a siren in the storm.

"Would i really fall this low for the sake of my own life?" He knew this question was pointless, as he knew, humans can fall even lower when met with the threat of their ultimate demise. A sound of something hitting the stone could be heard from the doors of the tomb.

"Why am I afraid to to it?! Did i already forgot what Nightmare showed me? Those creatures ARE MONSTERS!" The small thought, barely a whisper in his mind, but to him it sounded like a clap of thunder in the clean sky.

Reluctantly, he lifted the book to his eyes and started to read the incantation, the familiar words of a spell once forgotten, barely a whisper, sounded like thunder in the complete stillness of the tomb, his horn igniting and burning brighter with every word and letter he pronounced. With hesitation, he released the spell on the closest skeleton.

In the complete silence of their tomb, the old bones creaked, answering the call to arms once more.

Music for the segment:

https://youtu.be/4yis4kZaR80

*CLANG* Another hit rang through the night as bandits tried once again to break down the stone gates.

"For spirits sake, break down that bucking door already!" Zira was pissed, they are so close and now managed to corner the damned fiend in the old Maressyrian* tomb, but her gang cant break down the door! She stood near the gates, surrounded by the six she called her elites.

Almost an hour ago she managed to wound the monster with a well placed shot. She thought she is about to get it when it fell down into the hill. At first Zira thought that was one of the changeling's secret passages and the beast went for the reinforcements, but her flyers quickly told her about what they saw from above as they peeked inside.

Today was a good day, not only they will crush the damned bug, the armor and weapons from the tomb will increase her gang's chances in battle with Equestrians! Just to think they managed to miss this treasure trove so close to the camp!

Her entire gang, almost sixty mares strong, stood by the gates and waited for the opportunity to get their hooves on the bitch who killed four of their ranks and the precious loot.

"Ataman, we got it!" A sound of a stone scraping on stone could be heard as gates finally gave out. The pitch black darkness met the brigands on the other side.

"Get the bucking torch here!" Zira screamed to the idiotic griffoness standing idle with the light source behind her back, the hen obeyed, swiftly coming to her leader and made her way inside to light the way. Only to jump back with a scream of pure horror and drop the torch on the sandy bricks.

"WHAT THE BUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" The ataman screamed in anger turning her head to the griffoness who was quickly crawling away from the gates, only to see the majority of her band looking in wide-eyed terror into the darkness.
Turning her head back into the tunnel Zira could not believe her eyes. An entire platoon of the Maressyrian soldiers stood before her in their rotten glory, bronze of their armor gleaming menacingly as they were holding up their shields and spears.

Zira jumped back to her honor guard and raised her blade. Already, she could see her gang wavering at the unnatural sight before them. Many, especially those who joined her recently, were shaking with fear.

"BLACK MAGIC! THE D-DEAD RISEN FROM THEIR GRAVES..." One of the mares screamed in terror, but was quickly silenced by Zira.

"Don't you buckers even dare to think about running!" Zira screamed in rage, holding her gang down.

"Those old bones laid there for hundreds of years! We can break those with ease and get the witch after that!" Zira reassured her accomplices, most of them calming down just enough to think rationally. And right now, ataman looked to them like a much bigger threat.

"Form ranks! Let them out and surround them!" Zira order as undead made a synchronous step forward, holding the formation like they used to centuries ago. Brigands huddled together as undead marched forward with unnatural coordination, the shield wall moved closer.

"Открыть огонь!*" As skeletons moved under the light of the moon and made way, a voice could be heard coming from the tunnel.

Most necromancers wont bother to use ranged weapons unless they are in the large-scale battle, fragmentation of consciousness and rigor mortis made undead into a very bad sharpshooters. However, now it did not mattered. Dense formation of lightly-armored bandits was an easy target even for an undead archer.

Dozens of arrows and short spears flew out of the dark tunnel, some missing their target or stopped by a rare shield, but even so, most projectiles found their mark. Screams of pain and fear filled the air, fresh bodies hit the sand.

"Открыть огонь!*" Another wave of arrows followed shortly, taking even more lives.

"Attack, NOW!" They already took serious casualties, ataman realised they have to get to the necromancer quickly if they want to win this fight. The bandits were scared, but even so they followed her orders.

Bandits broke ranks and formed three groups, surrounding the undead by the tomb to deal quickly with them. Skeletons held their ground firmly, rarely stabbing back, but those slow strikes were easy for the living to dodge or parry. But even so, most bandits were armed with bladed weapons or spears, which were useless against an enemy without flesh.

Some unicorns among them knew combat spells, but even so, there are very few of those which will be effective against a creature incapable of feeling pain. One of the bandits tried to launch a fireball into the darkness in hopes of slaying the dark mage, but she was swiftly stopped as necromancer saw her charging a spell and ordered his archers to fire upon the mage.

Few of the arrows hit the unicorn, pain of the wounds made her lose concentration and discharge the spell into the ground. Screams of agony rang in the desert as the misfired spell lit the gang's entire left flank on fire, killing many and making even more bandits run for their lives.

"Come back here you scum!" Zira yelled to the fleeing ponies as they ran, turning her head around only to notice as the dead members of her gang were silently rising from the floor.

"FLEE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Realising what they are about to be surrounded, many more fled in fear as the undead slowly shambled closer. Necromancer witnessed brigands ranks brake and pressed that advantage, ordering his minions to charge, cutting off the escape.

Zira made a mistake turning her head around, she didn't noticed as one of the soldiers was rising it's weapon for an attack. As ataman turned around to face the skeletons, a bronze tip of a pike pierced deeply into her throat and got stuck in her spine. Zebra tried to take a step back only to be pierced by yet another spear, this time into her chest.

As her body fell to the ground, she could see as what was left of her gang was surrounded and reaped to shreds by their own dead, the only survivors of the slaughter being a dozen or so cowards running for their life. A visage of the Mare-of-the-Moon looked down upon the carnage with glee, satisfied by a justice finally served.

Her vision started to fade away and Zira could only hope that spirits would show mercy to her soul.

Leaving the darkness of the tomb, Stas looked upon the site of battle with indifference.

"They deserved this..." He told himself, trying to justify his actions. After all, they were merely monsters in a sheep's cloth, or , at least, he tried to convince himself he did the right thing.

He had no way of knowing it, but his success was tied to the fact that changelings were among the few races of this world who had a natural affinity towards black magic. Even so, he realised something was wrong.

"It was your work, isn't it?" He asked, raising his head to look at the Moon.

She looked back. Reassuring him that the spell and tactics were his, She only lend him some of her energy. After all, why would She let such a promising warlock to die?

Even so, backlash and magical exhaustion is something he will have to deal with on his own. Stas used all of his own mana by casting the spells so quickly and without proper training. Thankfully, he had no idea how to convert emotional energy into mana, so he won't die of starvation.

With that thought Stas blacked out right on top of the body of some dead zebra, tiredness, both physical and magical, finally taking their toll.

Author's Note

1) Caffeine is a powerful insecticide.

2) Maressyrian - Reference to Assyrian Empire which used to exist on the territory of modern Irak for almost 24 centuries and was destroyed in the year 605 A.С.

3) Открыть огонь! - Open fire!

PS: Bronze gear never rusts, but leather and cloth used to make the armor do.

Also, here goes the first antagonist of the story. And for those who are wondering, Nightmare Moon is pretty much Lawful Evil in the setting.

Chapter 8: After the battle

Border of Changeling Wasteland, morning, date unknown

In the desert between Saddle Arabia and Wasteland, by the old mound, a sight of fresh battle could be seen in the morning. Bodies, both old and new, were scattered on the small patch of land where Zira and her gang met their end. Vultures feasted on the dead, screeching in delight at the abundance of food. Sun was shining brightly, uncaring or unaware of the horrors of the last night.

Stas awoke with a jolt as one of the more curious vultures decided to check if he was edible or not and pecked him on soft flesh of his nose. He raised his head off the ground, causing the scavengers to take flight with a sudden movement. Most of them landed close by, eyeing his prone form with interest. To the disappointment of birds, he raised on his legs fairly quickly.

He felt terrible - unholy abomination of thirst, hungover from the alcohol and magical exhaustion pounded on his skull like a freight train going down the rails. The light and every sound became like a thunder to him. Even so, he realised he has to move. Quickly downing the entirety of his waterskin contents, Stas looked down upon the body he stood from.

Lying of her right side, an armored body of zebra was covered in full-body lamellar scale armor, with a sole exception of her neck and head. Red silken robe was covering her body underneath the armor, it was few sizes too big, clearly pointing out that fact that it was probably stolen or looted off the body of a noble or a rich merchant. The bright red silk, almost successfully, was hiding the fact that it was recently repainted with the fresh coat of crimson blood.

"Such a good armor and no helmet? Who she believed herself to be, a named space marine from 40K?" Stas ripped his gaze away and looked around the battlefield, noticing that vultures returned to their feast as they no longer were afraid of him.

"Wait a moment... You got to be a local raubritter*, ain't yea?" Stas quickly realised that the body before him laid in the middle of what remained of the brigands "formation" and was the most well-geared. Zebra, just as quiet as any other normal corpse, did not bothered to answer his question.

"Giving me the silent treatment, ha? How rude... oh well, might as well check if you have anything usefull." The bandit leader had almost nothing on her body, it seems that bandits left everything in their camp, as they thought they wont need that much supplies to deal with a single changeling. Her armor and robe were ruined and way too small for him, and her shamshir*, while was the first steel weapon he ever seen in this world, would be a downgrade compared to half-a-meter long scramasax. Only things he found were few rolls of makeshift bandages and a heavy coin purse. He already had his own medicine, but he still took the coins. Thinking there might be more useful loot, he started to scour the battlefield.

"They took it from the innocent, it's not a theft." Stas shambled closer to the bodies, shooing away some scavengers. Some would be hesitant to loot the dead like he did right now, but Stas was from Russia and had a great deal of personal hatred towards bandits. After all, after USSR was dissolved, Russia fell into anarchy and was practically controlled by the gangs.

He was lucky and never had to live in "The Wild 90s", but his parents and grandparents did, and he knew very well what people like that were capable of, his dad and grandpa had scars to prove it. To put it bluntly, he had barely any respect towards those who choosed to leach off the innocent in such a cruel way, rather then try to earn their wealth fairly.

"To think I fell this low in merely two days..." After scouring the battlefield (and pockets of bandits), he took another look around and felt a wave of shame at his actions. Sure, they had it coming, but the least he could have done was to give them some respect, after all, in spite of all the atrocities those bandits did, they were no longer a threat to anyone. He took a step back, making the looted coins in his saddlebags to quietly jiggle.

His shame became only stronger when his eyes fell upon the desecrated bodies of the ancient troopers. He held almost no respect to those he slain tonight, but those ancient bones deserved their peaceful rest. He lit his horn and tried to lift the armored figures, only to his in pain as his horn sparkled like a blown fuse.

"Бляяя..." It hurt badly, the feeling was only intensified by his hungover. He swore once again when his wounded leg decided to remind him about itself. Using his magic to lift light-weight purses and cloth was doable even with his barely-restored mana, but trying to lift something heavy, like an armored skeleton, was impossible to him in his current condition.

Stas did not wanted to leave the ponies whose rest he disturbed to just lay on the ground, but even more, he wanted to do at least something good today. With no other choice left, he started to carry the skeletons himself. He carried the bodies one by one, placing them back to where they belonged to the best of his abilities.

It took him several hours to do it, moving at the snail's pace and carefully placing the surprisingly sturdy bodies back to their tomb, but after few hours he was finally done. Vultures had no interest in the withered bones and let him carry them in peace as they feasted. Stas could not close the stone gates or fix the hole in the ceiling he made, but it will have to do.

"There is nothing left for me to do here." With that thought he moved back to the oasis, in hopes of following the tracks left by the bandits. There surely will be something usefull in the camp.

It took him a lot more than he would like to admit, but he managed to find the bandit encampment before the sunset. Hidden in the shadow of a series of large dunes, dozens of tents of varying sizes were seen from his position. The deserted camp met him with a sorry sight of a shoddy palisade, clearly made out of whatever wooden scrap bandits were able to gather in the desert or loot during their raids, it was clearly made by someone who had no proper knowledge or tools for the job.

Stas walked into the eerily silent camp with a swaggering gait of someone who was suffering from a hungover and had no choice but to endure it. He knew he had nothing to fear. Bandits were dead, left to feed the vultures by the tomb, and those who managed to escape were too cowardly or wounded to go back to this place after their defeat.

He walked to the largest of tents and took a peek inside, he was met with a sight of a large table standing on a Persian rag, surrounded by ten or so pillows, behind it stood a cloth curtain, hiding what probably used to be leader's personal bedroom. Stas walked to the table, taking a look at what was on top of it. Among the many unreadable scrolls and letters laid a surprisingly detailed map of the local region. Even without being able to read annotations on the map, Stas was able to easily find the camp on the map, his oasis and a canyon where he had his first actual battle. But even more importantly, now he knew where the road actually is.

Stas took the map and hid it in his bag, after that he walked behind the curtain and collapsed unceremoniously onto the bed of the former ataman, as it creak under the weight of the heavy beetle, he covered himself with a blanked made from the pelt of the abnormally-large hyena.

He can loot the camp and find his way out in the morning, now, the only thing he ever wanted was to sleep in the actual bed until his hungover and exhaustion faded into his memory. He was asleep before he even closed his eyes, his dreams protected by the will of his soon-to-be Patron.

Author's Note

1) Raubritter - old European termin for a robber baron, usually used to refer to a rogue knights or other nobles who used to lead bandit gangs.

2) Shamshir - same as saif.

! Dear readers, i have to warn you, my semester in the university starts tomorrow and i wont be able to give you new chapters on the daily basis. However, i will do my best to give you at least two chapters every week.

Chapter 9: Camp hassle

Brigand's camp, date unknown

Stas woke up this morning feeling rather well. His hungover was finally gone, the weird sense of emptiness he came to associate with a lack of mana in his body was reduced to a slight nagging in the back of his head. Soreness, which shrouded his entire body like a thick blanket after his self-provoked nap on a dead body, finally left his body.

The sun already shined in the sky. Stas threw the blanket off of his form, stretching as he raised and made a step off the bed. Only to hiss in pain as he put almost half of his mass on an injured leg.

"Shit, i forgot about it..." Lifting his injured leg up to his face, Stas undid the bandages and took a look on his wound. Thankfully, it was nothing too serious, the arrow did not hit any bones or a major artery, there was a little bit of pus, but no inflammation or any visible sight of infection. Once again after being stranded in this world, Stas was grateful to his drill instructors, first aid was a part of his training they took very seriously.

"Huh, I guess that hole in my leg makes me a proper changeling!" He chuckled darkly at his own joke, finding humor even in such a weird situation. He lifted his saddle bags in his magic and started to apply bandages, using the sterile gauze from his own dressing kit. After all, he highly doubted a bunch of illiterate medival bandits knew how to properly make a sterile bandage.

"Aaand... Done!" Stas finished dressing his wound and held his leg before his eyes, he slightly tugged on the bandages to make sure they held firmly. Satisfied with his work, he finally left the bed. With a creaking of the wooden frame begging for mercy, he raised on his healthy leg and gently put his injured leg down to check how well he can stand. He will have to move slowly for the next two weeks until his body repairs itself, but otherwise, it was fine.

It looks like he should stay here for a while, hopefully without anyone else finding this place. He finally stood up and turned around to face the bed. He looked down in discomfort as he noticed that the bedding was covered in a fine layer of sand, remembering that the last time he took a shower was back in his homeworld and he had no chance to do so for the last three days without risking spoiling the water of oasis. Stas decided to leave this minor problems for later.

For now, he decided to take a close look at the camp and search it for anything he could possibly use or take with him. First, he decided to look for anything usefull at the ataman's tent. The bedroom itself had very few things, he checked the dresser filled with various knick-knacks (which would probably been useful if he had fur), the bed and persian rag were lifted and checked for any hidden stuff, the small table greeted him with a sight of multiple unreadable letters and a dirty clay bowl. The only thing which could contain something usefull was a smallish locked trunk by the foot of the bed. Still, the padlock is something he can break at later date, when he has nothing else to do, after all, it will be a trivial task for him, he was practically a walking tank.

The next room was just as useless, a table filled with yet another pile of unreadable scrolls, table and ten cushions were of little interest to him. Even so, he still decided to take a look at the scrolls in hopes he could find something written in ~~English~~ Equestrian. He was pretty disappointed, other than slightly amusing him by the sight of childishly big letters with very poor calligraphy (and, without any doubt, a ton of mistakes) those letters served him very little purpose, the best he could do with those letters were to use them as a toilet paper or a fire starter.

Leaving the large tent behind Stas scoured the camp for anything useful or interesting. There was twenty seven tents in total, serving mostly as barracks for two to four, majority of which only had cots and few saddle bags with a rare table here and there. Even so, he still found something usefull besides the "barracks".

First point of interest was a pair of tents neer the center which served as a cookhouse and a food storage. The cookhouse itself was pretty useless, all it had was several large iron cauldrons, shelf of poorly-made dishes and three tables which were clearly used as a cutting board at some point, through, most likely, they were the cutting boards in the first place. What interested him much more was the food storage.

The relatively large tent, judging by a stool standing right behind the curtain, clearly used to have a guard assigned to it to make sure someone wont try to steal the food. He quickly realised why when he looked upon the shelves, realising that those bandits clearly had problems with supplies or managed to almost hit the rock bottom. For the entire gang of sixty or so ponies and griffons, the storage contained eleven forty-kilogram sacks of various grains (one half empty), three twenty-kilogram bags of dried dates, one similar twenty-kilogram bag of dry apricots, six twenty-kilogram bales of hay and somewhere around ten kilograms of tallow one would normally use for cooking instead of oil. Stas was pretty confused, he used to work in the field kitchen and he knew that this was nowhere near enough food to feed an entire company even for a week*!

There were also twenty three water barrels, thirteen of those were empty, but two of them contained what seemed to be a makeshift hamr. He supposed bandits were getting their water from the oasis, in which case he was really lucky that they are already gone. Who knew what were to happen if they went to refill their water at the oasis and met him there when he was practically helpless.

Still, he was alone and there was more then enough food for him to last two weeks until his leg was healed completely, and he will be able to take a lot with him when he was ready to depart. Not to mention, it was barely ten meters to the leader's tent.

He looked doubtfully to where the hay bales stood by the wall, thinking if it was worth it or no. Sure, humans cant eat hay, but ponies and changelings could, and he is no longer a human. Not to mention, judging by the show, hay was a very common food item on the pony's menu, if he wanted to blend in this new world he had to get used to it's rules and the pony who refuses to eat hay will look quite suspicious to other ponies. So, he decided to rip off the metaphorical band-aid and try it head on. He took a few straws with his magic and took a bite.

"Oh..." That was... Disappointing. Stas thought that hay would taste similar to the potato, considering that hay-fries are a thing, but the life had other plans. It was bland and dry, it had the same taste (or, more likely, lack of taste), just as an army-issued MRE hardtack. He really hoped that this hay was just dirt-cheap crap and not the widely-spread food. Last time when he was so disappointed was when he spend 300 rubles* on a can of imported American root beer just to find out it tastes like toothpaste to him.

With his food source now secured he decided to check the rest of the camp, which was just more of the barracks. Bandits, obviously, had no arsenal or a workshop, as all of them took care of their own gear and lacked the skills to make something on their own.

Still, there was another unique place he found, which turned out to be a small guard tower with a crappy training range right outside one of the camp's exits. The range itself was merely three poorly made archery targets standing thirty meters away and a fighting arena with several crude seats placed around it. There was few tables around as well, probably for those who decided to eat while watching a fight. Still, there was something usefull here. Laying on one of the tables there was a smallish wooden crossbow* and a handmade waist bag for the bolts.

Stas knew that magicians, even among bandits, had quite a few combat spells in their sleeves, but he knew none of those spells, so a crossbow seemed like a good alternative to a magic missile. Especially to someone who could use telekinesis.
He knew that, during Earth's medieval, to become a somewhat good archer one would need to spend somewhere around five or six years on training alone, but that was merely five to six months you need to became a decent crossbowman. That's not to mention that he already was pretty good with AK-74M thanks to weekly training for an entire year, aiming with crossbow wont be that different from aiming with an assault rifle. An only serious problem for him - it's getting used to ballistics of a bolt rather than a bullet, but, as saying goes, if you want to live know how to twirl*.

"Eleven bolts..." He walked to the table and picked up the crossbow and a bolt poach. Bolts had conical tips and were nothing special, looking just as normal as those he used to see in hunting shops back in Russia, the only major difference being the materials those bolts were made from. Remembering his training, he drew the crossbow, cocked it and put the bolt in the groove.

"I can draw it with ease, it wont be that powerful..." Stas tilted his head ro the right and closed his left eye, after quickly pointing it at one of the dummies, he pressed the crossbow's lever and let the bolt fly. Bolt struck it's target with a dull thud and buried itself almost four centimeters in the soft wood. Stas went closer and extracted the bolt with his magic, grunting in dissatisfaction as he noticed the tip of the bolt slightly bended on strike.

"Why would they even have a single crossbow in the entire camp?" Stas asked himself, only to realise that every single archer he seen among the bandits was winged. They probably just cant draw the crossbow when on flight, especially if his theory is correct and flying creatures have hollow bones and less muscles as a way to make it possible for them to fly. Still, if that was the actual reason, why is there a single crossbow in the camp in the first place?

"Probably belonged to the one of the unicorns or the ataman... Eh, fuck it, free crossbow it is." Taking the crossbow and the bolt poach he placed them in his saddle bag, adding the crossbow training in the short list of activities he will be doing while recovering.

Finally, after his looting run he returned to the big tent and placed everything he found usefull in the war room. His findings included the crossbow with eleven bolts, bigger set of saddlebags, paper and ink from ataman's tent, some clothes which could be used to make himself something usefull, a sewing kit from one of the barracks (which is a generous way to describe a single needle and a skein of string), locked trunk of the bandit's leader and a small hoard of coin purses. There also was a small saddle bag filled with various (probably) medical herbs and potions, together with another locked tiny chest he found in what probably used to be the tent of one of the bandit "officers".

Obviously, he decided to leave the food and water he found in it's own tent, there was no reason to waste his time and mana carrying half-a-ton of food and even more water when he can just walk fifteen meters down the road.

He decided to start with opening the tiny chest, as it will be easier than counting all the coins or try to test what the hell were the herbs and potions in the (probably) medical bag. He lifted a large stone and hit the lock, with a clang of metal hitting stone, the small lock broke and no longer obstructed him.

Stas opened the lid. The small lockbox was filled to the brim with hashish*. Stas locked the box and placed it to the side.

Next were the coins. After emptying every purse and spending several hours to sort and count them he found himself the proud owner of 136 golden coins (57 of which were bits), 364 silver coins and 1133 copper pieces. That probably was a small fortune, but how is he supposed to carry all of that*?

Stas realised that he still has to break into the ataman's trunk and sort out the herbs and potions, but he decided to leave it for tomorrow. As it turned out, being a looter is pretty tiring. Stas went back to his bed and dusted it off, reminding himself to take a shower or a bath at some point.

Slowly, trying his best not to brake it with his weight, he laid on a bed and closed his eyes.

Author's Note

1) Bandits had somewhere around 630 kilograms worth of food, the norm (in Russian army) is 2.5 kilograms of various food for a single man on a DAILY basis.

2) 300 rubles is enough to buy 5 kilograms of rice or 6 loafs of bread.

3) First crossbows were created 24 hundred years ago, they were invented both in ancient Greece and China almost in the same time.

4) If you want to live know how to twirl - original Russian saying is "Хочешь жить умей вертеться".

5) Hashish - concentrated cannabis, popular narcotic in the East and somewhat well-known in the neighboring countries (including Russia).

6) I have no accurate info about weight of the coins in medieval, so i used the info about coins from 18th century Russian empire.
136 golden coins (6.54 grams each - 5 golden rubles, year 1778) - 0.889 kilograms.
364 silver coins (24.9 grams each - silver ruble, year 1743) - 9.064 kilograms.
1133 copper coins (3.65 grams each - one kopeck, year 1728) - 4.135 kilograms.
Total - 14 kilograms 68 grams of coins alone.

Guess at that point i will have to add slice-of-life to tags, because i want to make the next chapter a world-building one as well.

Chapter 10: Ataman's one piece

Brigand's camp, date unknown

Stas awoke today feeling even better then yesterday. The sensation of magical withdrawal finally left his body and he was able to sleep as much as he wanted thanks to the fact he had no need to wake up in ungodly hour to get to work, small mercy it was. He stretched, this time remembering about his injury and taking care of it before moving out of his bed.

He had barely anything to do for now as he healed. His plans included reading through his books in hopes of improving his understanding of magic, make himself some crossbow bolts from the arrows he found in the camp, train his crossbow skills and finally break into the leader's trunk.

After leaving the tent he moved into the food storage, he felt lazy today after all the problems he had to deal with within that couple of days, so he decided to simply munch on the dry fruit instead of trying to cook something. Stas ate in silence of the eerie empty camp, sitting on a stool which was left in the storage.

"I wonder, is there any of that famous Arabic coffee somewhere here i could have missed..." Unfortunately, Stas was pretty sure he did not missed anything usefull, so, unless ataman kept a stash of coffee beans in her trunk, he was out of luck on that front. Finishing his meager breakfast (which was, pretty much, just him gorging on dry apricots and drinking some water), he left the tent and slowly made his way back to the tent which served as his temporal home.

Sun shined brightly, it's heat deterred by his cloak. Empty camp met him with the same indifference as the greyish dunes before them, silent, save for the sound of wind playing with cloth of tents, eerie atmosphere was not that much of a problem to him, at least yet.

Stas was pretty sure that was what people would call a reverse horror scenario. He can already imagine the very same situation being an early-game boss fight in Skyrim-like RPG or DnD - party of adventurers finding an abandoned bandit camp, a reason of previous owner's demise and an only inhabitant being a sole black mage. He chuckled, imagining himself in the role of a videogame boss.

He entered back into the tent and looked at the trunk standing in the war room like it owed him money. He picked the very same rock he used on the previous day to break into drug-stash from the floor, It was the time to see what is it what ataman was hiding from her gang.

Stas hid behind the overturned table, just in case there was some sort of a trap or an armed spell inside for those who tried to steal from the leader, lifted the rock in the air above the lock and struck down. First strike was unable to break the lock, on second strike the lock still stood, but the wooden lid of the trunk broke, causing the unharmed padlock to uselessly dangle off the lower eyelet.

"Huh, that is one sturdy lock! I wonder, is it enchanted?" Stas used his magic to turn the trunk away from his hidey-hole and opened the lid with his telekinesis, just in case of some Indiana-Jones styled bullshit. After waiting for a minute for anything to happen, he realised he was probably overreacting. After all, what are the chances that some rando gang leader placed a trap with a timed fuse in her own chest?

He moved closer and turned the trunk to face him, Stas opened the lid and took a peek inside. To his surprise, together with a hefty looking coin purse and two silken robes, he found three books, four different scrolls, two corked glass bottles and what seems to be a set of copper bangles, similar to the decorative jewelry he saw African tribals wear on TV. Books, scrolls and robes probably were useless to him, so he decided to take a look at the coin purse first.

"Ah, but of course the leader of the bandits will have more money than her entire gang combined..." After spending an hour on counting, he realised that there was exactly 300 golden Equestrian bits in the ataman's stash. He could say that it was an unexpected turn of events, but that would be a lie.

Second thing he lifted was the set of copper bangles, after expecting them closely, he found that those were just an absolutely normal set of bangles, not even decorated with any images. He remembered that ataman was a zebra, those bangles were probably just a memento she kept from her home.

Next was a pair of identical glass bottles. Heavy glass bottles were full to the brim and corked, there was no label on the side like on a drinks in his homeworld, but underneath the cork, on the bottle neck, there was a wax seal, holding a paper label. Stas turned the labels around and found out that there was an Equestrian text on it.

"Mareshinn Fortified, Dry Red Wine, harvest year - 986 A.B." Label proved to be more than usefull, at least now he knew what time period he was in. Still, what year is it now? For all he knew, it could be 987 right now. He decided not to think about it more than that. Thought, he should give ataman some credit, she knew a thing or two about good alcohol.

Stas placed the pair of wine bottles to the side and decided to take a look at the robes. The pair of robes were made of the tan and yellow colored silk, probably for the same pony as the ruined reb robe ataman's corpse is adorned with right now. Obviously, he wont be able to fit into them, but they looked expensive. Perhaps, he will be able to pawn them off in the near future, money is not something useless to him, unlike those cloths.

Now, that is an idea! Maybe, with all those money, he can pretend to be a travelling merchant from Equestria? Still, he probably should do something with his looks before trying to talk with people. Those three bandits he met at the canyon were ready to tear the pants off of him right in the middle of the desert, but almost immediately became hostile the moment they realised he is a changeling. Stas decided to continue with his looting, he can think about his future in the next two weeks he will have to spend in this camp.

Next were the four scrolls from the chest. Two of those turned out to be letters, which were written in what is probably Zebrican. It was probably a good thing he was unable to read those as well, for all he knew, those letters could've been ataman's parents begging her to return home and reading that would just made him feel awful. Still, the other two scrolls were more intresting. The scrolls were, in fact, spell scrolls, one of which was written in Equestrian.

"Mend wounds?" Stas clearly was one very lucky bug or, maybe, the Nightmare blessed him with an incredible luck while trying to sway him to her side. The magical diagrams were easy to read, as they resembled what he already seen in the books of Solomon. The scroll stated that the effect is instantaneous upon casting, so, it probably was worth the try.

Stas decided to try just that and heal his leg, he ignited his horn and, after making sure he weaved the spell correctly, used it on himself. The spell activated without an issue and filled the tent with a white light, Stas undid the bandages and took a look at his leg.

It did not worked. The wound was still there, looking just as normal as before. At first Stas thought that he might have fumbled the spell and tried to cast it again, this time, with even more precision, but just like previously, it did nothing.

"Is there an error somewhere in the formula? Or is it not working because I'am a necromancer?" Stas tried to find any mistakes in the text, but he was pretty sure the spell was in the working order. Still, for some reason, it had no effect on him.

"Just my luck... Oh well, I probably can sell it later." He tried not to think about why the spell did nothing, instead, he worked on redoing the bandages on his leg. For a moment he thought "What if there is no advanced normal medicine because everyone uses magic?". Maybe, he should stay late tonight and try to ask the Moon why the spell failed?

Trying to loose that train of thought, he lifted the second spell and took a closer look. Unlike the previous disappointment, that spell was written in Arabic, still, his was able to read the formula. Stas can cast this, but he decided not to do so, after all, it probably was the fireball spell bandits used against him. He decided to try it later, when he will be working on his crossbow aim back at the training yard.

There was also three books standing on top of one another, the top book was unlabeled and looked rather worn. He lifted it from the chest and opened it, just to be greeted by the handwritten Zebrican text.

"Oh, come on! Did the ataman actually was keeping a diary like a high-school girl? Why would you even do that when you are a criminal? You are just going to leave more evidence like that!" His failure with a healing spell irritated him way more then Stas was willing to admit, and the ridiculous sight made him even more peeved. He forcefully placed the book on a floor by the trunk, and decided to take a look ay the second book.

"Tactics of combined detachments of Trot by Iron Helmet?" Stas lifted it closer and opened the book. Curios, he decided to read a few chapters and realised very quickly that the text was familiar to him. In fact, it looked like Trot used the same tactics as the Roman Republic back in times of Gaius Julius Caesar, the biggest difference being that majority of war machines in this world were replaced with a war-caster batteries and the cavalry, such as cataphracts, was replaced with pegasi or griffon-auxilary air-raiders, which allowed an array of much more complex tactics to be used.

As much as it was interesting to read about how existence of magic and flying sapient races changed the history of warfare, he still had a last book to check. Stas turned the table back on it's legs and placed the book on it, fully intending to read it later.

Finally, he lifted the last item from the trunk, a black colored book with a stylized changeling's queen head on a cover. "The Treacherous Bugpony and all their Vile Kin, by Golden Seal - the Grand Archivist of Equestrian Royal Institute." was written underneath. Stas was shocked. It was the very first thing he found about his own (now) species and the first thing he finds it's that his kind is hated that much?

He walked to the middle of the room and sat at one of the cushions by the table, he started to read.

Changelings.

A violent insectoid species of magical predators.

So many things are unknown about those secretive creatures, many speculate that changelings are an offshoot of a ponykind which was corrupted by the vile energy that is forbidden magics. Others believe that they were a result of manipulations of Dark lord Grogar, who created them as creatures of Deceit, a living mockery to the very Tenant of Honesty.

One thing can be said for certain - those fiendish beings are hostile and incredibly dangerous. The very nature of bugponies make them into natural predators of other thinking beings. One of their main needs, outside of water and food, is nothing else then emotional energy of other thinking creatures, which may vary depending on the hive of origin.

That, together with changeling's warlike culture and high intelligent, makes them into a serious threat and deadly opponents on the battlefield.

Even worse is changeling's natural ability for transformation, which allows those monsterous creatures to infiltrate other societies without being spotted by unsuspecting creatures. An ability they use to foalnap victims, gather information and sabotage the defences of cities before the raids.

*Flip*

Anatomy and magic

Changelings, in spite of their natural appearance, are significantly closer to the pony from the anatomical viewpoint. Mostly, the difference between the two species is visible mutations, but there is also some important metamorphoses of inner organs:

1) Visible features compared to a pony - chitin; insectoid wings protected by elytra; well protected faceted eyes without a visible pupil; crooked sharp horn; large fangs and a serpentine tongue.

2) Inner differences compared to a pony - omnivorous diet; ability to devour emotional energy; extra "stomach" in the torso for storage of emotions; extra gland of unknown purpose (most likely, an organ which makes transformation possible for their entire kind); a complex system of joints, which makes it possible for changelings to bend their limbs at unnatural angles.

The big difference and advantage all changelings share over pony - it's the presence of horn and wings at the same time, making every bugpony capable of both sorcery and flight.

Changelings, just like any other thinking species of this world, have a significant gender disbalance, it is impossible to say how big that imbalance truly is, as there were no sightings of bugpony stallions outside the hive-cities, however, it is assumed (considering that ponies are the closest species related to changelings) that the gender ratio of mares to stallions in changeling society is 6 to 1.

Another major difference it's changelings reproductive cycle - while changeling genitalia are not different on the visible level from that of a pony, it was proved that changeling are oviparous species. Once fertilized, changeling drone is capable to lay 2-4 eggs once in a year, however, by unconfirmed information, Queens are capable of laying 10-30 eggs every two months.

Changelings hatch from eggs as grubs, which, after an indefinite time, metamorphose into pupa and enter the nymph stage, in which they bear a close resemblance to a pony foal. After that nymph grows for approximately 10-20 years into an adult drone, molting every year until they are completely developed.

On a magical level situation with changelings is similar to that of a pony. However, there is several serious differences, one of which is bugponies ability to convert stored emotions into mana directly. Changelings, being a creatures mostly weaved from magic, are capable to use their mana to increase their lifespan (in theory, indefinitely) or force themself to gain new physical traits through metamorphosis.

Not only that,the very nature of a bugpony makes them proficient in dark magic, such as curses, mind control and necromancy. Ironically, the very same affinity for black magic makes changelings incapable of using weather manipulation, druidism and healing magic.

"Блять! So, the spell did not worked because changelings just CANT use healing magic?!" *Flip*

Types of changelings

There is several types of bugponies, that inhabit their hives, specialized in different ways depending on their role:

1) Drones, also knows as workers - the most common type of a bugpony, it's a universal type without any specific role in the hive, which can serve any purpose within changeling society, ranging from manual laborers to infantry mares in poorer hives. They are the most common and supposedly could metamorphose into any other types of changeling. Physically similar to an Equestrian pony in every aspect, beside the natural armor.

2)Soldiers - the metamorphosis of a drone specified for war, usually serve as hive's defenders or as a main strike force during military campaigns. Differ from drones by an increased height (being a head taller then drones), thicker chitin, enchanted physical and magical might. May possess elongated wings and slicker figure when used as aerial force.

3)Diggers - the type of changeling specified for hard labor, capable of digging tunnels in the solid rock with unnatural speed and haul heavy weights with ease. Have an enlarged mana reserve, extremely strong and covered in thick plates of protective chitin, twice as big compared to a drone and possess a third set of limbs on the front of their body, a large pair of claws used for digging, similar to that of a mole cricket.

4)Mages - lanky bugponies with a powerful magical capabilities, a type which normally used as spies, battle-mages and, in peaceful times, thinkers. Mages possess a lithe tall frames, they usually stand two heads higher then normal drones and lack the protective chitin plates of other types, instead, their bodies are covered in a thin layer of flexible leather-like chitin.

5)Warriors - the hammer of the hives, a rare type of bugponies which is created by the prosperous hives as a main attack force for the large-scale battles or guardians for the royals and main hive-cities. Thrice as big as a normal pony, all physical and magical parameters are improved to the level rivaling that of a juvenile dragon, covered in the thick plates of chitin which makes it possible for them to withstand almost any physical attack (unless armor penetrating weapons are used).

5.1) Hive Knights - elite defenders of the hives, a subtype of a warrior. Unlike previous types of bugponies, Hive Knights are exclusively males. Changelings, being an aggressive territorial predators, have strong protective instincts, which makes it hard to siege their hives even when the odds are on the attackers side. One of examples of such behavior is Hive Knights - when the highly populated hive is endangered, normally meek stallions tend to became very aggressive as they are driven to protect their nymphs. That trait gained attention of the Queens, which create those elite warriors knowing that they will zealously protect their hive-city at all costs.

6) Warlocks - elite type of changeling mages, capable to fight with an archmage on the even ground or decimate entire companies in battle. Slick bugponies covered in light chitin, thrice as tall as a pony, they possess a unique metamorphose - a three fully-functional horns on their head, imitating in their placement horns of a rhino beetle.

7) Royals - tyrants of the hives, which rule over the savage bugpony hordes and push their broods to commit new villainies. Each Royal is unique, an only traits all of them share being abnormal size and having pupils in their eyes. Extremely dangerous, depending on their age and size of their hives Royals range in magical power from the level of a battle-mage to that of an elder dragon and higher. Always protected by the strongest of their brood and may be encountered in pairs in the large hives.

Take note, that this list is far from complete, as the everchanging nature of bugponies makes it almost impossible to get a full list of all possible types, subtypes and mutations those creatures might have. Not only that, some hives have their own unique types of changelings only they are capable of producing, such as Scorchers from the hive living on the border of Equestria and Dragon Lands.

.....

*THUMB* Stas closed the book, clearly shocked by what he just read. Now he knew why bandits tried to kill him, the changelings of this world had pretty much the same reputation as a goddamn orcs in the Lord of the Rings.

"I really need to find out how to use my transformation..." If that was an opinion everyone held in this world, he needs to make himself safe. However, perhaps there is more to that than what author wrote in her book, it was clearly biased against changelings.

Still, he was unable to find when the book was written, so Stas hoped that this book was outdated by few centuries and people no longer held so much against his species. After all, if he remembers this correctly ~~Luna~~ Nightmare is still a benevolent princess, even if a corrupted one. Perhaps she knows the truth behind all of that and realises that changelings are not just a savages?

Still, he decided to go to sleep earlier and try to digest what he just read.

Author's Note

P.S. : Yes, Golden Seal is just being quiet xenophobic and the book is biased. Changelings are not that hated or evil in my AU, otherwise, Celestia would already razed the Hives and NM would casted divine smite upon Stas on his very first night.

Chapter 11: On the road

Brigant camp, early morning, date unknown

The sun was shining over the abandoned camp, bright and motionless just like it ever is, it was looking from the clean sky over seemingly endless desert. Dunes, colored in a bleak mix of grey and faint yellow sand, stood in their rightful place, rarely disturbed by an occasional gust of wind.

It has been seventeen days since Stas found himself stranded in Equestria. Today, after completely recovering after his encounter with bandits, he was finally ready to move onto the next stage of his adventure. Those two weeks went without any serious accidents and were dull and boring, but productive to him. He was able to get a good hang on crossbow aiming and practice with his magic.

Elemental treatise of occult science, in spite of it's ominous name, was nothing more than a book on understanding of magic which contain the basics he needed to cast spells more successfully without burning half of his mana on the most basic of magics. Even more, after discovering that, in contradiction to what Solomon stated, he needs almost no reagents for the majority of spells, he was trying to cast few of the simple spells the books provided him with.

He did not tried to make a golem or summon a spirit, deciding that it was too early for trying something like that, but he was able to enchant his books and a map to protect them from the elements and physical damage. He also was fairly confident with his ability to throw fireball-spell he looted, even if he was afraid to try and change the flow or amount of mana in it. Not to mention, he was able to discover on his own how unicorn in the show used the magic ray and made himself an improvised magic missile spell on it's basis (which, he was pretty confident, probably was a magical equivalent of welding together a pipe shotgun in his garage).

While magic ray and missile may seem redundant compared to a fireball, they had few abilities fireball lacked - ability to shoot them with high speed and precision, together with ability to safely control the flow and amount of mana, making it possible for him to make them strong enough to pierce through a wooden palisade or weaken the spell to turn it into something like a rubber-bullet.

Shamefully, he was unable to make it into a stunning spell, he had an idea of turning the missile's condensed mana into the electric charge, but he decided not to do it because of the same reason he did not tinker with fireball - risk of frying himself alive in his own shell. He was in a bad situation, but he had more than enough common sense not to mess with electricity or explosives.

As of his aggressive-racism problem, he had to work on disguising himself. He still had no idea how to transform, so he had to improvise, he took apart the spare clothing and saddle bags left by bandits and, using his mediocre army-grade tailoring skills and sewing supplies, made himself a custom-fit robe with two pairs of crude "boots" covering his entire body, he painted it in faint green using some random vegetation and a spare barrel to make sure that his cloths wont look like beggar's rags made from differently colored cloth scraps. He was also able to use some spare leather armor left by bandits as a material, hiding a crudely made soft-leather bracers, helmet and breastplate with leggings under the layers of cloth. The robe looked far from pretty, even in spite of that fact that he spend several days trying to make it look normal and sturdy, but he hoped that ponies would think he just cant find something better or was a nomad.

The much bigger problems were his eyes. They were completely colourless, milky white eyes which belonged on a blind man or a corpse, and literally no one is going to believe that he is an adventurer or a trader when he looks blind. At first, he thought about using his eyes natural protection to his advantage to paint the irises and pupils on them, but he quickly realised it was a dumb idea and he might end up actually blinding himself. He head no glasses or anything transparent that could be made into them, so his only choice was to make himself a turban which will leave a small slit for his eyes while hiding them. It was not ideal, but what else he could do? Try to make sun-glasses from the shards of a wine bottle?

Stas finished packing his belongings, already dressed in his creation with a back-up dagger hidden in his boot, he filled a large pair of cargo saddle bags with all the loot he could carry - two bottles of wine, water, food and energy biscuits (even some of the hardtack-hay), medical supplies, crossbow with thirty bolts, flint and steel, both silken robes, five crushed empty aluminium cans*, his pot with a bowl, small bag of salt, a hyena pelt to use as bedding, even entirety of the money he found and hashish. He also took a small tent, just in case.

Spell books and scrolls, together with two normal books and a map, went into his shoulder-bag, it was a high quality bag and a memento of his home, so he did not replaced it. His scabbard with scramasax went on the belt he wrapped around the shoulder of his left front leg, where it will be hidden by a cloak, while he still will be able to unsheathe it quickly.

It was a lot of weight, but he used to be an infantry-man back in the army and walking with forty to fifty kilograms of cargo was nothing new to him, it was even easier now, since he had a stable four leg stance instead of needing to balance himself on just two, also, there was no officer to make sure he wont stop to take a break when he needs it.

He had to leave the medical bag behind, considering that he was no herbalist and testing unlabeled potions and unknown herbs on himself sounds like a great way to kill himself. An only things he took from there were some herbal spices he recognized after he remembered seeing them in his mom's kitchen many years ago.

Today, he leaves this camp behind for good, the road he seen on the map should lead him to the nearby settlement - a small village, a day or two away, if he understood the map correctly. While it gave him a much needed shelter and time to learn, this place was extremely boring and literally nothing happened in the last two weeks. An only notable event during his stay was that time when he embarrassed himself in front of Nightmare Moon.

Five days ago, late evening

"Как-же заебало...*" Stas was sitting in front of his tent and cooking himself something which could only be described as a culinary disappointment - an empty porridge*. He was fairly sick of eating dry fruit, sweet porridge with dry fruit and hay, so he sat there thinking on how he could possibly enrich his ration. He was already willing to go back to oasis and hunt for the scorpion meat or catch a snake for a BBQ, just so he wont have to eat any more sweet fruits.

Suddenly, he remembered something. On his first day he picked some salt off the adventurer's body, but even so, just salt wont cut it. After contemplating what he should add to it, he decided to once again take a look through the herb bag in hopes of finding something he recognized as a spice. To his surprise, he was able to find some caraway, badly-grinded pepper and some coriander. It's not that good of a spice mix, but it will be good for someone who had none for almost two weeks.

Stas added some of the spices - pepper, coriander and some salt. Thinking of it, salt is supposed to be good and healthy for an equine, something about helping with balance of nutrients? He added some more, just in case his new body needed it more than he realised.

Finally, after letting it simmer for some time, he ate his extra salty wheat porridge. It was so-so, even with spices, but he was more than happy about the change.

Stas was cleaning his pot in front of the food storage when he felt a strangely familiar warmth in his chest. That feeling made him faintly giggle, strange familiarity and joy he didn't felt in a quite some time. Now that he thought of that, what was the last time he let himself cut loose? Always so tense and serious, all work and no fun!

Stas went inside the tent, with a faint giggling. "Pfft, gigg-ling, he-he..." The dumb joke, while pretty unfunny on it's own, seemed really funny to him right about now. He reached the duo of barrels he seen on the end of the tent and opened one of them, willing to finally let loose and test how resistant the changeling liver is.

One hour later

It was already night when Stas stumbled out of the tent, drunk both on salt and alcohol, he held an almost empty bottle of rum. He walked with an unsteady gait, almost tripping over his own leg. Stas was happy for the first time ever since he seen that damned smoke over the oasis. A necromancer shit-face drunk on rum, that entire situation reminded him of something and he was singing.

"Aha-ah, the blood runs co-old,
We take our loot but don't get o-old!
*Hick* Yo, yo ho
Yo-o, yo ho
All ha-ail, the mighty
He's arising from the de-ep
*Hick* With tattered sails
and incredible tales
we're caught in endless se-eas!*"

He finally fell flat on his face, caring more about singing the lyrics correctly then placing his legs on steady ground. Slowly, with a speed of an uprooted tree, Stas turned on his side and looked up in the sky.

"Oh! Hi-i Moonie.." Nightmare looked back with a mix of surprise and disappointment, clearly not expecting to see him in such condition for multiple reasons and rather unhappy about him giving her a nickname.

"Y-you know Moonie... I alwaaays l-liked you more then Celestia!" Now Moon was pleased, looking down from her prison with amusement and a hint of curiosity.

"Yea-ah, she is a fa-a-at co-ward and h-her rainbow mane looks... *HICK* ... looks like a.. like a jester's wig!" For a meer moment, Stas could swear he heard a booming joyous laughter of a Moon. She liked what he said, She was especially amused about Celestia's mane.

"A-and you... You are better, you k-know! Yo-ur braaave and even mel.. mil... mil-le-nia on the moon d-did not bro-ke you!" Stas told Her, clearly loosing a fight to unconsciousness. Nightmare was pleased, after being regarded as a foal-eating monster by her former sister's subjects and treated as a flawless deity by her own still-loyal subjects and Cults-of-Nightmare, hearing a honest praise from somepony was refreshing, even if that somepony was actually a drunk out of his gourd changeling necromancer.

Her soon-to-be warlock lost consciousness in the middle of the camp's path, he was sleeping in the sand, overpowered by the mix of salt and alcohol. She watched him from above, already planning to show him this memory in his dreams once he is sober.

"Oh well, at least my liver is working well..." His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he recalled this memory, hidden by the green cloth of his turban look-alike. To think that he actually had the gall to talk to a Nightmare when completely shit-faced. It was a good thing that he blacked out, after all, who knows what could have happened if he did something really stupid, like if he tried to hit on Her.

Still, embarrassing yourself before the literal Goddess aside, he had to get moving, it is going to be a long road to the closest village and he cant stay in this camp forever.

Author's Note

1) Stas is a history nerd, he knows that aluminium in pre-industrial era (before galvanization became a wide-spread thing) was VERY expensive and he hopes he could sell it.

2) "Как-же заебало" - I'am so fucking sick of it.

3)Empty porridge (or empty soup) - it's when you use just one or two ingredients to make it, excluding water, that is.

4)The shanti is "Tattered sails" from "Warhammer Total War 2. Curse of Vampire Coast."

P.S. In the next chapter, Stas will finally meet with actually friendly villagers

Chapter 12: Jabal al-Nour

Border of Saddle Arabia, date unknown

In spite of his situation being pretty bad, Stas was hopeful. He reached the road few hours ago, protected from sun's scorching gaze with his improvised armor-garment hybrid, now it was the time for the long walk down the poorly-constructed rural path. This path would lead him to civilization, a deserted village on the border between two deserts was the closest settlement he could find on the map, which was, for some reason, was separated from the rest by few days of travel.

"Perhaps, it was a military or border outpost, which managed to grow into a town because of immigration? Like with London?*" He had nothing else to do as he walked to his destination, so, he entertained himself with different musings, such as "why is there a remote village on the border of two deserts?".

Stas kicked a stray pebble, keeping the comfortable pace as he trotted, barely burdened by the weight of his loot thanks to both his new physique and old training. The serine silence of the desert had it pluses, for an example, it was easy to hear when anything mowed nearby. On the negatives, it was driving him up the metaphorical wall with boredom and, thanks to his previous encounters with bandits, it made him paranoid. He decided to dine while he walked, seeing no reason to stop.

"Alright, let's recall my 'background' once more..." Stas was one weird stallion, so, he had to make up a story for himself, something which made sense, but could not be tracked down if someone decided to be nosey. Thankfully, he had weeks to come up with something which would explain his skills and situation. After carefully thinking, he came up with the mostly solid background.

His name is White Knight, it might not be original by any means, but thanks to this world's magical shenanigans, specifically, that fact that the name of the pony usually matched with their Cutie Mark or profession, it would play in his favor. Also, the more bland and unoriginal his name sounds, the better it is for blending in.

White Knight is, big surprise, an Equestrian hedge knight*. That would explain his wealth (including the high-quality steel blade), combat skills and education. Also, if someone asks why he is so different from a normal pony, he can just say that he is an unacknowledged bastard child of a noble unicorn mare and an arden* servant.

He was travelling with caravan as a sellsword*, when the merchant he worked for decided to take a shortcut through the desert off the road. Which resulted in the caravan being ambushed and destroyed by bandits, he was knocked unconscious by the lucky shot of a sling on his head before he was able to react and was left for dead - which is why he is stranded without a map or any knowledge of Arabic. The bandits took everything from the caravan's carts, but did not looted him because they were already overloaded with booty and thought he was a porter and had nothing of value on him
(or, at least, that what White Knight thinks). He woke up after they left for the camp and escaped after realising the rest of his companions were dead.

After that, thanks to concussion he received from a rock hitting his head at mach fuck, White Knight lost himself in the desert for weeks, spending most of it recovering from the injury by the oasis he luckily stumbled upon after few days of wandering. And, if anyone asked him where the battle took place, he forgot it from the head injury and the non-existing bandits had more then enough time to hide the tracks.

Stas ran through the story he made up again. It was, judging by his wonky internal clock, an early evening, when he walked up the road between two barkhans and found himself looking down into the lowland where the village stood, a hundred or so meters away.

"Hah... I guess my map reading skills got rusty, or, maybe, I was moving way quicker than I realised." Stas looked upon the small town of forty or so houses, made from adobe* or sandstone in the typical rural-arabic style one would see in the movies about Afghanistan, they were placed closely to the big oasis. The light were out, but a lot of ponies were working the fields or collecting dates from palms around the lake, few village guards stood here and there, scanning the expanse of sand for any dangers, or, more likely, bandits. Two of them were talking with eachother by the main entrance, too busy to notice him standing on the hill.

"What a shame, whoever packed my bag for this adventure did not bothered to pack me a pair of binoculars..." Stas, just like anyone else who has been in the army, did not liked the idea of going into the unknown without any intelligence data or preparation, especially after those bandits almost fried his arse after almost trying to "jump" him. On other hoof, he had to get down and talk with those ponies, he has no reason to go back to the camp and standing here like an orderly on duty until they spot him will be suspicious as fuck.

"Ну, c Богом*..." Stas took a deep breath and started to walk towards the entrance, where two guards stood idle while energetically chatting, wearing what looked like linothorax* with linen caps and holding spears in their front hooves. Stas approached slowly but steadily, making sure he looks casual and non-threatening. He was able to walk for seventy or so meters before one of the guards finally saw him approach. The earth pony hit her companion on the shoulder with her hoof and pointed at him, two mares scrambled to their positions and pointed the business ends of spears towards him.

"Stop! Who are you?" One of the ponies shouted in Arabic, attracting the attention of those of villagers who were at homes and the guards at the square, where small bazar stood abandoned. Some of the armed mares approached closer to the gates, wary of him. As guards held their ground, Stas could feel tens of eyes looking at him from the windows with worry and curiosity, clearly not expecting him to even be here.

"Hello! Can you understand me?" Stas could feel a hint of surprise from villagers and militia, clearly, both the fact he spoke in Equestrian and his rought booming accent was something they expected even less then meeting a complete stranger at the gates of their home.

"Is that a sun-damned stallion?... What the actual buck is going on?" Even if it was just a whisper to him, he still heard the surprise in the voice of one of the militiamare. It seemed like those ponies were flabbergasted, what could possibly surprise them so much? Sudden realisation hit him like a sack of bricks, he realised that all the bandits and guards he seen were female and he never actually seen a single male since he got stuck in this world.

"Эй, вы меня понимаете?" Maybe it was a dumb move on his part, but Stas tried to repeat his question, this time in Russian. Now those ponies were even more confused, great...

"You! Get one of the elder's daughters here!" One of the ponies, probably an officer, judging by the fact she had an actual helmet with a plume on top of it, called out to one of the guards. The mare swiftly retreated, moving somewhere towards the bazar.

Awkward silence filled the air for the few minutes as the entire situation came to a sudden stop, militia was wary, but he no longer felt any hostility and they did not approached him. Stas stood in his place as well, realising that he cant speak with them and trying to back down or get closer might get him skewered on a spear.

"Make way!" A commotion started somewhere behind the line of infantry ("Or was it cavalry?"), the lines of armed ponies made way, letting a young unicorn mare with a slim figure to make a stop before them. The relatively tall unicorn with a cream-colored coat and a bleak green mane wore a blue linen robe, which seemed both practical and not-so-cheap. He could feel her nervousness as she looked at him carefully, intimidated by his large and roguish figure, she clearly was thinking about how to start a conversation.

"Hello, who are you?" The mare started in Equestrian, doing her best to hide her worry, she was speaking with a soft accent he never heard before.

"Hello, young lady, I am Sir White Knight of Equestrian realm." The mare was surprised, the mix of his weird accent and a stallion's claim of noble status clearly confused her, even so, she tried her best not to show it inspite of how strange this entire situation was in the first place. After all, her mothers taught her how to trade, and Equestrians were among those she will have to interact with in a future if she ever wanted to become rich. And, as her birth mother told her, Northern realms might as well be an entirely different world.

"Excuse me Sir, but what are you doing here all alone?" Aira doubted the stallion's words, considering he was gigantic even for Arabian and had a very strange accent, but even so, she did not wanted to risk souring her village's relationships with northerners in case he was honest.

"The caravan I traveled with was ransacked by brigands, I was an only pony left standing..." Stallion's words shocked Aira. "Those cretins from Zira's gang successfully ambushed an Equestrian caravan?!" That damned exile and her lackeys were a blight upon the Jabal al-Nour for years and now they grew bold enough to attack northern merchants!

"... because of a lucky shot on my head from a sling, that knocked me out at the very start of an ambush, before I even unsheathed my blade, I awoke many hours after the battle as the scumbags left me for dead and had to look for the settlement on my own." Stas finished retelling his story, trying to sound as natural as he could.

"I am sorry to hear that, Sir, but how did you reached our town through the brigand's territory with your cargo intact?" Aira realised that something was very wrong, as the stallion not only has loaded cargo saddle-bags, which were not looted by bandits, he also seemed unharmed for somepony who claims he almost had his skull caved-in.

"Бля, she thinks I am with the bandits! Play it cool, play it cool! What would a young noble say in this situation?!" Stas thought for the moment, taking a slow sip from a waterskin to give himself some time to think about what he is going to say. Suddenly, it clicked - just act arrogant and boast so much that ponies would think you are related to Trixie!

"As a matter of fact, young lady, I did not!" Aira looked at the stallion in confusion, trying to understand if she actually understood him correctly or if she had some problems with Equestrian tongue.

"I've been robbed and left to die, but I managed to reach an oasis and spend two weeks recovering there unseen by brigands." That part made sense, through Aira wondered how he managed to hide in the oasis where bandits were taking their water from.

"But, after the recovery, I did not fled, I ambushed their small patrol of three and killed them to obtain their weapons." Stas continued to lie out of his ass, rarely adding a half-truth or two.

"He bucking what?" Aira started to feel uncomfortable, hearing a stallion boldly claim that he killed three bandits was something she never expected to hear from somepony she normally would associate with house chores and cooking.

"So I armed myself and decided to find the camp to avenge my fallen comrades, to my surprise, the camp was empty, save for the tracks the entire gang left in their wake. Which I ,obviously, followed." Stas continued boasting, making his best impression of an arrogant noble.

"I found all fifty of the rapscallions huddled by the large stone gates leading inside the hill, as I looked upon the rabble, I realised they were robbing an ancient crypt for wargear." Stas did not seen it, but the young mare became pale at the notion of bandits defiling what sounded like an ancient tomb of Maresyrrian soldiers.

"The brigands still not recovered completely after the battle and stood so close I could not hold myself back. I used the opportunity and launched a fireball into the crowd, killing half of the scum with a single spell!" Stas told her with enough fake pride to make a conservative politician look shy in comparison. Sure, it was actually one of their own mages who did it, but who else knows it beside him?

"Truly? So.... how did you dealt with the rest?" Aira was barely able to hold herself from sounding sarcastic, now she had no doubt he was an Equestrian noble, but to think he would be stupid enough to lie about fighting an entire gang? Petty Equestrian tyrant probably ran when he noticed them by the tomb and tries to make himself sound like a hero.

"I killed them with sorcery and weaponry I looted from the patrol. It may sound petty, but the damned Ataman made it personal by killing my comrades and stealing my blade!" He boasted once again, making the mare grunt in done-with-his-shit tone while militia, who were trying to follow the conversation without any success, realised they probably will have to kick the stallion out any moment now.

"Oh... Does it means you have.... a proof?" Aira was barely holding herself, thinking about how bad it will look for her reputation if she were to beat the manure out of the Equestrian noble stallion. Even if he was a pathological liar and a serious irritant, and at least a head taller than her.

"Indeed I do! What is the point of such a feat of arms if you cant prove it? Here, look what I took off the body of a zebra which used to lead that rabble." Stas used his magic to hand over the map he looted from the war room, hoping that this will be enough to convince her that he is not lying. He realised that he was on a thin ice after being such an arrogant pest to her, but he tried not to show how nervous he was right now.

The mare lifted her hoof to order the militia mares to stand down as they were ready to pounce on the stallion the moment he ignited his horn. She took the paper, watching as a misty white aura was replaced by her emerald green.

"Holy sun..." Aira could not believe what she saw. A very detailed and expensive map of a region was covered by writings in both Arabic and Zebrican, shoving the position of the brigand's main encampment, ambush spots, hide outs and positions of bandit sentries used to spot the caravans. Zira would never gave up something like that without a fight.

"The arrogant bastard is not lying, he actually killed the bitch..." Aira still was bewildered and did not noticed how the captain trotted to her side and was looking upon the map with wide eyes.

"He bucking killed Zira..." Aira told to captain, causing the rest of the guard to look upon the stallion with disbelieve.

"H-How?" She finally asked, still not believing that a stallion was able to destroy an entire gang on his own.

"I am a hedge knight and a professional soldier, so, let's just say..." Stas lifted the scabbard with scramasax before his eyes and unsheathed half of the blade, high-quality steel cleaver gleaming like silver in the light, making guards and the unicorn stare in awe.

"... when I claimed that rock was a lucky hit, I meant it."

Author's Note

1) Originally, London was founded by Romans as a administrative and military center for forward outposts on British Isles in year 45 A.D., the smallish town (150 hectares total or so) was abandoned by Romans in 5th century. In 6th century London was rebuild and repopulated by Anglo-Saxons.

2)Hedge knights are minor nobles (usually, knights) who had no land or subjects of their own. Usually, they were younger children with no valid claim to the parent's title, bastards (child born outside of marriage) or disgraced/bankrupt nobles. Hedge knight were usually given a set of gear by their family and send of to serve as officers or soldiers in hopes that they will gain enough wealth to buy their own land. Obviously, that tradition is one of the main reasons why raubritters (robber barons) were a thing in the first place.

3)Arden - Russian breed of draft horses, almost 1.5 meters in height and 900 kilograms in weight.

4) Sellsword - mercenary.

5)Adobe - a sun dried brick made from a mix of hay and clay.

6) Ну, c Богом - With God's help.

7)Linothorax - light armor made of several layers of linen.