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.