Heresy

Heresy-Blood and Iron-Part I

Spearhead encampment was worse for wear, as Mac soon discovered. His platoon kept a steady pace while they made their way to the forward operation center that was the front of their lines against the Gryphus Kingdoms. They weren't exactly a small force, being fifty-three strong altogether, but their number paled in comparison to the actual forces held at the camp.

He was surprised to find that they were fifty-three, in twenty thousand.

The camp was enormous, and had a huge supply train constantly passing through, guards everywhere, and siege level fortifications built up around the base of the mountain that it resided at. Pegasi explored the skies, constantly alert of the griffons that could swoop down from the sunlight and assault them. There had been at least one attempt to assault the frontal fortifications every day, and troops were always in and out of the trenches leading to the forefront of the combat lines. Mac's platoon quickly fell in to their designated area and set up their tents and other gear. Once all had been set up, the newly appointed officer dismissed his men (and women) to eat and rest for a while. He was to retrieve orders from the Colonel, who had taken up his permanent headquarters in the trenches.

As Mac made his way through the giant camp in the direction, he noticed many raw recruits as well as veterans looking upon his great bulk with a huge mixture of emotions. Awe, fear, resentment...and above and beyond, looks of inspiration. As he passed through the ranks, many colts and mares, even a few of the older and more battle hardened stallions...fell to their knees.

"My Lord..." one said. "H-h-have you c-c-c...come t-t-to save...."

The colt's voice cut off and Mac studied the traumatized pony. What he noticed filled him with a great sense of sadness. The colt's uniform was that of a recovering soldier, and he saw that varying runes stitched across the patch on his shoulder reading off as Head Trauma, Permanent.

As he looked around, he saw a great many soldiers in uniforms, combat gear, and even those like the one who was still recovering from combat. Some even had some more fresh wounds. A sense of growing fear and apprehension permeated the air as the great stallion realized that at least a few thousand sets of eyes were looking at him. He was literally the center of attention in the camp and to many seemed to be the unspoken power among them.

"'Ahm here to fight," he said simply. His booming voice reached many of them, and absolute silence followed his statement as he moved forwards. The crowd in front of him parted as he made his way along, many bowing their heads as he passed. Even the senior officers seemed to have found themselves at a stop, not yelling for their underlings to return to their duties or posts. The arrival of a Sun Guard, unannounced, had left them all speechless, but...a Shock Guard troop no less. They had yet to witness one before them, and he seemed to be an absolute monster. An automaton even, as not a single bit of fur or flesh was visible underneath his enormous plate armour, and that even his eye slits were darkened by some form of veil.

He proceeded forwards, unhindered by anything or anypony as he made his way to the edge of the fort and down through a tunnel complex, deep into the side of the mountain. He had to duck down a bit, but for the most part, the tunnels were enormous and supported by siege-grade pillars and arches. Many guards were posted and he had to make sure to press himself to the side from time to time, as more than once a pony on a stretcher was being carried back to the main hospital. Some had grievous wounds that made the stallion feel a great rage start to overtake him. How dare they hurt such proud soldiers? His very brothers in combat and country?

For a quarter of an hour, he passed through the dimly lit passages, eventually reaching the Colonel's bunker. At this point, he had cooled off back into his normal quiet and uncaring demeanor, but the fury was buried not far beneath. He had yet to experience real combat, and he knew it would be altering, but he had prepared himself for it.

As he entered the domain of the Colonel, he was greeted by the officer himself. The Colonel was a Yak, a hairy northern bull from the Hooviet Union. He had fought many wars in the past century, and had been blessed by Celestia back when she was still just known as "Princess." He was one of her greatest tacticians, always fighting against guerillas and their wars of attrition. He knew just how to press them, making use and taking absolute advantage of the military might of an organized army, even in situations that the cowards chose to strike under the cover of.

"Ah yes, Apple. I have been vaiting som' time you see?" a voice rang out as Mac stepped forward into the main entrance of the underground bastion. It was really a marvel. It was carved by magic and had been made in hours. Yet it was impregnable, and rather professionally laid out. Mac took this all in as he searched for the voice, and quickly found the old Colonel sitting to his left on a rather large bench, his bodyguards not far away.

He was covered in long, dark brown hair that was rather shaggy, and had two rather large horns that curled out from around his ears. His body itself had the evidence of many battles fought, as scars varying in length and shape ran across small bald patches of his coat. He only had one eye, the other covered partially by his cap, as well as an eyepatch. He spoke with a thick accent, his Equestrian dialect obviously a second language, but still practiced and easy enough to understand.

"I have com' to assume zat you are ready to crush our enemies benese your cloven hooves, yes? Nosing more and nosing less?" he announced, as more of a rhetorical question than anything. Mac simply nodded.

"For my Queen, and for Equestria," his deep voice reverberating from the stone walls.

"Good, because I have a task for you..."

The sound of a musket shot rang out apart from the others, as a bullet took an unlucky colt in the throat. He went down hard, his arterial blood spraying across the front of Mac's armour.

His first time on the battlefield wasn't something he was prepared for. It scared him.

He never let it show of course, but the sheer amount of blood and shit and bodies made him uneasy. The smell was the worst of it. It permeated the air. Along with the smell of sheer fear and terror. It was something that he'd have to get used to, if he managed to survive.

Haze was right behind him as he charged through the firing lines that led along the walls of the trenches. The griffons had the advantage of height, but couldn't risk flying in this situation. Those that tried were immediately torn to pieces by bolts and bullets. It was a peek and shoot game, with the trenches moving further up the mountainside with every step. In some cases, the forces were so close, they could spit on each other.

This proved to be advantageous in Mac's case, as he tore forward throughout bloody slurry at his hooves. He rounded a corner, finding himself immediately face to face with a trio of griffons that seemed to be moving up, attempting to flank the rifleponies with their close range weaponry, namely maces and their claws. They barely had time to screech before Mac's bellow tore from his throat, and he crashed right into them. His weight and momentum pushing him through.

The first was knocked over and trampled by his armoured hooves, while the other two were caught by either of his shoulders, their bodies crushed up against the side of the trench. Their bones broke easily and their blood spurted from ruptures in their feathers and flesh.

He reveled in their deaths, morbid and contradictory as it was. They were killers of his brothers and sisters. His cold fury knew no mercy.

Haze quickly rounded the corner, popping his head up and firing quickly at a griffon that Mac didn't see until it's corpse slid from a small hole it had been hiding in, somewhat above him. Albeit now, it was missing its right eye and most of the back of its skull.

"Very good sir," Haze said absentmindedly as he went about reloading his rifle. Mac crouched over as he assessed the situation, keeping near the Corporal. Haze was already the most loyal of the soldiers under his command, and was the only one with him for this part.

Mac was going to go alone, but Haze wouldn't take no for an answer. It was probably for the best, as he had an incredible eye for detail, even if his cleanliness standards left a bit to be desired. He also seemed to have a certain air about him that was mysterious, but Mac had yet to inquire. The colt had given him no reason to fear that he would let him die, and he knew that Haze would probably expect him to do the same, even if his demeanor left him seeming to be a lifeless husk in some ways.

"We need to move up and push them out of the east trenchline if we're gonna get anything done," Mac told his comrade.

"Right behind you then, sir," Haze replied stoically, affixing the bayonet to his rifle.

They surged forward, tearing around another corner and ambushed an unwary group of griffons that were focused on reloading their rifles and taking shots at the colts not fifty meters from them. Mac charged at them, the sound of his clanking armour and enormous hooves hardly making any recognizable noise in the din of the combat that raged across the battlefield.

His glittering armour was shining like a star in the twilight sun, and by the time he was seen, one of the eagle-lions was already screeching as he crushed the life from it in a single sweeping motion. A shot rang out and a bloody spray spurted forth from another griffon that had gained its bearings and was about to assault the great stallion. Haze was an impeccable shot, and the flattened ball passed through the beast and hit another with enough force to stun it for a moment. In this time, Mac rammed his horned helmet into its chest and caved its ribcage in, rupturing many vitals and grinding it to the wall. It came apart like a broken toy.

They surged forward, a line of colts scrambling over the trench walls attempting to join the unprecedented warrior. A ragged battle cry was heard as the soldiers charged forwards, their bayonets and armour flashing in the light as the griffons fired into their ranks, attempting to inflict casualties before they arrived. Mac charged along the trench, trying to bring more of a focus onto himself as he ripped his way through the trench before him. Griffons began to fire at him or braced themselves for imminent contact.

It was a pathetic attempt. Shots hit his armour and bounced off, or just broke apart. Blades, beaks, and claws didn't even scratch the plates of enchanted steel and brass. Weapons were sundered and broken, as were bones. Flesh was pulverized under the hooves and extreme power of the stallion, who in turn received no damage whatsoever.

Within seconds of his brutal assault, more ponies were leaping across the barren landscape and into the trench, bayonets and other bladed weapons slashing and stabbing at the winged beasts, pistols firing and hooves crushing while the broken line of griffons began to completely shatter.

Some attempted to fly away, hoping their wings would allow for them to retreat quickly enough to avoid retribution. No sooner had they left the ground, than the magic wrought by unicorns further back along the lines struck out. The burnt feathers and smoking flesh told the tale, as the mangled and burnt corpses of the unlucky creatures fell from the sky.

The battle wasn't over though. A line had been taken, but it was an uphill battle and had been for a month. Mac continued upwards, Haze right behind him. The other ponies continued to move forwards with him, under the command of a Sergeant that kept them in line.

"No mercy," Mac grunted loud enough for all of those behind him to hear. Another battle cry rang out as more colts and even a few mares came forward from further back, some tending to the wounded, whereas a great many more galloped forwards to reach the newly established frontline.

For what seemed to be hours, but was no more than minutes, they advanced slowly, firing at the retreating griffons. The beasts were dug in incredibly deep and were difficult to root out. More than once a trapdoor had exploded up out of the brush, a griffon bursting out to assault an unwary soldier and engage in melee combat. Griffons were larger and had more natural weapons than most ponies and this was their preferred method of war. Talon and beak suited them more than anything.

The Guardsponies had to try to be faster than their opponents, utilizing their combat blades and varying melee weaponry. Their natural weapons were better for bludgeoning and were difficult to fully utilize in such situations, save for those of unusual size.

Mac's head snapped to his left as he heard another screech. A griffon burst up from a trapdoor and grabbed a mare. Her scream drew immediate attention, but as the closest soldier to her surged up, the winged beast drove its beak into the unlucky mare's throat, tearing out her windpipe and cutting short her pained neighs. As it began to attempt tearing her apart, two soldiers drove their musket bayonets into the beast's chest while a third skewered it on a pike, lifting it up and dragging it out of the hole where they could use the leverage to rip the beast in half. Blood spurted up from the jagged wounds and the (Mac assumed it was a female, as he'd never heard so high pitched a screech before) griffon was torn asunder.

Another hole burst up right in front of the great Shock Guard, but as the griffon came forth, Mac simply brought forward his jagged helmet and crushed the eagle thing's skull, pulping the front of its head. He strode forward, a new smear of blood covering his golden plated body. His fury was starting to rise again, but he also felt bile rising in his throat. The smell of blood and death was starting to get to him. It was his first time on a real battlefield and now the time lapse was starting to catch up to him.

It didn't matter though. He had a task.

A shot separate from the rest of the great din that was combat, rang out. A muffled roar was heard, and a griffon started to tumble down the mountainside.

"Very good Haze," Mac acknowledged. Haze's own response was no more than a grunt and a slight smirk as he accepted the praise.

The resistance from there became less frequent, but all the more desperate. More griffons came forward, in suicidal charges. They were just trying to slow them down at this rate. The problem was, that it was working. The first charge that came, was announced by the tumbling of boulders. Those that didn't make it to trenches in some cases, were crushed flat or were maimed. The screams of the mangled were worse than the silent gushing of the bloodied and dead.

The second barrage never came, as the Unicorns finished weaving a great spell.

The back line from whence Mac had first entered the battlezone, glowed, and within seconds, the world had gone red. All stopped to look up, save for those performing medical tasks or the wounded themselves. The sun had just passed under the horizon, but the light that remained seemed to cast the entire world into a bloody red.

Then, the wailing started.

A griffon burst from its hold, tearing its own eyes from its head before bashing its skull against a rock, throwing itself with reckless abandon as it murdered itself. All over, griffons spilled from holes in the mountainside, strangling each other and pressing claws into their own vitals.

The cooling mud was refreshed with new blood and vital fluids.

Mac nearly vomited, like half of those around him were already doing. Still, he staggered forward, the sound of the great spell hardly effecting the ponies. It was driving the griffons insane, and yet it was only annoying to the ponies. Their bowels loosened a bit, but no adverse effects remained. He shuddered as a shiver ran up his spine. Suddenly though, the feeling was gone. The smell of unwashed kit and month old unwashed socks filled his nostrils, and he knew that Haze was right beside him. The stench clearing his head.

"Messy work sir," he said. "I think we'd best carry on."

Mac only nodded as he broke into a gallop. He needed to reach the designated cave. He was going to have a hard time getting into some of the places he needed to reach, but this mattered not. Not after what the griffons had done. Soiling the treaty had condemned those that might have been taken prisoner. They all must perish for the deeds they committed.

The ragged line of colts and mares held their ground, collecting the wounded and dead. It was a sad sight, but it was war. They'd be avenged. Their families taken care of. The blood of their enemies would soak the blades and hooves of their brothers and sisters in arms.

Mac and Haze trekked up the mountainside and into the first major entrance to the inner cave system. Their wasn't much resistance, as the unicorn magic had seen to many of the griffons that were relatively near the outskirts of the rocky eyrie. Those that were still struggling were given the mercy of death, even if the mercy itself wasn't shared by those that delivered it. All of Celestia's enemies were given merciful death and forgiveness. The soldiers themselves though didn't care a whit for that. At least not Mac and his stoic companion.

"Intuh the cave then," Mac said dryly to Haze. "Very good sir," the colt responded, without the slightest hint of unrest. Mac looked at his unassigned aide curiously, hoping to view even the slightest bit of emotion in him. What he got, was a bland nod from a somewhat bored looking soldier, following orders and doing what he saw fit in the combat zone. Mac dismissed it and focused on surging forwards, not even caring if the griffons were lying in wait to ambush him. He could take anything they threw at him.

They had a LOT to throw at him anyways.

He jumped over a tripwire just before entering a larger cavern, his enhanced eyes easily seeing it, as well as his ears hearing the very breaths of the beasts. Their stench even more so. They smelt of blood and shit. Another smell lurked deeper...fear.

His hulking figure crashed against the floor, a mighty bellow tearing from his throat as a dozen griffons came upon him, claws and axes swinging. With a mere thought, blades slid out of various joints in his armour, and as he swung about, dodging some blows as well as absorbing others, he became a flurry of steel and brass. The blades caught on the griffons as they came close, ripping apart flesh and spraying blood, disorienting or wounding, while his great cloven hooves came down on those he deemed worthy of his attentions at the time.

One axeblade was brought down heavily on his armour. As if slammed against his legs, light flashed along his length and shards of the shattered weapon were thrown around the room, stunning the beast that had assaulted him. The wardlight faded and within another few moments, the rest of the griffons were dead or mortally wounded. Blood leaked from many wounds on the eagle-lion things, yet the great stallion remained unharmed. His armour, not a single scratch or dent in it. Though, it was soaked in blood, the red liquid sliding down along the curves and intricate designs of the armour, vitae and bone powder clinging to his steel-shod hooves. He looked like a morbid and monstrous god of war.

Haze quickly rejoined him, disarming the trap as he entered the room. Discerning what it was, he disassembled the bomb that was attached to it, and stowed it away in one of the pouches on his armoured vest. He had his second weapon of choice out at this point. A revolving chambered flechette thrower. He loaded tubes into the little chambers, rather than lead or iron balls. The tubes broke apart as he ignited the black powders within, and when they exited to wide-barreled weapon, hundreds of spikes and shards of metal spurted forth from it. It was horribly ineffective at a range, but it cleared tight quarters incredibly well. Mac just always made sure he was out of the way when it was used. It was loud and he didn't want to be a product of friendly-fire, even if his aegis was impenetrable.

Mac shuddered at the thought of his armour falling into disrepair, but quickly put the thoughts at the back of his head. His armour was forged in magic and sunfire. It was as invincible as he was, and he had a mission to do. Haze was the most reliable soldier he'd met so far and he trusted him greatly. They'd get the job done. He smirked as they continued on, ignoring the blood pooling around the wide room.

The sounds outside of the cave network faded as Mac and Haze drove themselves deeper into the complex labyrinth. They had memorized maps of this place before, as once, it had been a great road that let other land bound creatures reach the Gryphus range cities. Or at least, this tunnel should lead to that road. Mac's main target wasn't along the road itself, which he knew resided in an enormous cavern that spanned for kilometers. No, they would have made that road into a nearly impregnable fortress by now. They'd take it at a later date.

As the pair of ponies made their way along through the smaller side caverns, they quickly ran into a problem.

Mac was too big to fit through some of the shortcuts.

"Haze...'ahm gonna need ya' tuh get to the crosspoint as quietly as ya' can ahead o' me," Mac said, "I'd like it if ya' scoped it out a bit, if'n ya' reckon ya' can." His smile wasn't seen by the stoic colt, but he could tell that Haze would do it, exactly how he asked. In fact, Haze always did what he was ordered to do, exactly how ordered, if not a little bit above and beyond in some cases.

Haze did his slouching salute, and nodded his head, grunting in acknowledgement before diving off into the passageway before him.

Mac himself made his way back the way he had come. He'd have to leave and make his way back outside, and get closer to his objective by a secondary route. It was a pain, but he'd come to accept it stoically, as he always had. It was work and he was a master.

As he made his way quickly along through the tunnels, he kept alert, listening for the sound of any sort of enemy. It was then, he noticed the tunnels themselves were too quiet. Sound wasn't echoing how it should have, as his great steel clad hooves clattered against the stone of the cavern.

Sorcery.

He felt his wards grow hot, as a bolt of light flashed and his veil grew darker to counter the spell.

He was thrown bodily, his huge bulk crashing against the wall of the cavern, shattering stone and crushing the rock under hit legs as he came back down. He recovered quickly, and found himself in a circle of...

Unicorns.

He grunted in annoyance, as he took in the situation. A group of five unicorns had him surrounded, staves and rods at the ready. He began to speak, but was quickly cut off as another great flash of light threw him from his feet, sending him cavorting across the cavern and into a stone archway near where he had first entered the room. More stone lay broken around him as he rose, his wards flaring as their inner powers began to fully generate.

He turned towards the unicorns.

Renegades. He saw the tattoos on their faces, the scars on their ears where ceremonial earrings had been removed forcibly by magic. These were ponies of the icy Hoofswell, on the border of the Gryphus ranges. These ponies had gone north after the founding of Ponyville, not wishing to live under any sort of monarch. They still traded and were generally in good standing with the rest of the fiefdoms of the world, but some...like these before him, were disgraces, even to their own kind.

Hoofswell ponies always had pieces of jewelry placed on their ears at birth, as a sign of status. The more expensive a ring, the greater the family. The higher number of expensive rings led to social markings. These though, had all lost their earrings, by committing some disgraceful act that none could forgive. The scarred tissue of their ears said as much.

Mac snorted and slammed his hooves down onto the rocky floor, bringing up chips of rock and letting the force of it resonate around the passageway.

Heretics would die before him.

Words were not exchanged as the monstrous stallion surged forward to destroy the mages before him.

Ley Lines flared up across the bare patches of fur that layered along their flesh like tattoos. None of these unicorns were inexperienced, nor were they weak. Their power visibly pooled before them, and struck out at Mac. He met it head on and focused all of his inner energy into the runes that flowed across the aegis that encased him. A smell of burnt hair and blood permeated the room, as the sound of breaking bones and cries of pain began to once again, reverberate along the cavern's high ceiling.

Death was heavy here. Flesh pulped under metal, the feel of magic surging through Mac's limbs as the runes visibly bled magic energies from the blast that they had just absorbed. Blood soaked his hooves and the heretics all lay dead, their corpses strewn about and ripped apart. Excess magic continued to flow off of Mac's huge figure, changing red as it related to his inner feelings. He was furious.

He may not have really hated griffons, but traitor ponies?

He'd crush any who opposed his beloved Equestria.

It was then, he noticed that the corpses of the magicians were beginning to fade from existence. He could smell the magic. Thick and strong as it permeated the air.

Necromancy.