Prologue - The story so far...
Long ago, the three Pony clans were separate rivals, tied together through flimsy treaties and a reluctant obligation to uphold the existence of one another. They hated each other greatly. That hate spawned, or attracted (many ponies disagree on this detail) the Wendigos- creatures that sap the negative fire to leave a blistering cold that could freeze the very core of the strongest of wyrms.
They appeared, and all of the old homeland was enveloped in ice and snow that would never melt. Our species was forced away from the old homeland. Far and wide, we travelled as nomads- split up out of continued spite for each other, until we eventually found what would become Equestria. There, we learned to love each other- in light of the Wendigos following us. We defeated them, and then… well, you know the rest. The stage adaptation is performed everywhere. They release films almost every year as well to contend for the Broncos. No foal is safe from that bit of popular culture.
Of course, there were new treaties, and the birth of our monarchs; Galaxia and Canterlot- the parents of Celestia and Luna. They were great rulers, as far as I knew. They kept Equestria afloat for a few thousand years- until Canterlot’s early and untimely passing, later followed by the Queen’s own death. The details of both, not even I am aware of.
But they weren’t the great rulers we thought them to be… Galaxia was mad. She had been driven mad- not with power- but with grief, for after the King’s sudden illness and passing, the Rhinos came. They viewed the land that became Equestria as a sacred ground- never to be inhabited by any but nature itself. The very gemstones should never be touched, in their eyes.
It seems unfair, given that we only just inhabited this beautiful land, and the cold of the Wendigos had rendered the motherland permanently enveloped in blankets of ice and snow, too thick and cold for the sun to melt…
Anyway, the War began, and after many years, we prevailed. But Galaxia had never seen such bloodshed; no pony has. She vowed that there would never be war ever again, and we all agreed. In her madness, she amassed unbelievable power and learned to manipulate the celestial bodies- a talent she would later pass down to her daughters.
Another great treasure she passed down was a collection of elements all ponies would find familiar. They were once part of a creature of immeasurable power, known as Equilibrium- a deity worshipped by the Sea Ponies.
The mad Queen’s magic was immensely powerful due to her near-sleepless nights of controlling everything, and not even the deity stood a chance. Equilibrium was split in two: Discord, and Harmony.
For a time, Equestria was peaceful. The Princesses took over the duties their mother once held, and they ruled the world rather nicely, while the Queen worked behind the scenes until her own passing.
Which brings us to a spire in Canterlot.
In this spire in Canterlot, there lived a young earth colt. He was very well off, all things considered. For an earth pony like him, the Equestrian city wasn’t the most fitting place. Earth ponies are often better employed on the ground, rather than high up inside an ivory city on an indigo mountain that pierced the heavens. Canterlot- the capital city of Equestria- was the safest city in all the land, and also the most extravagant. Every spire was made of some form of marble, with strong metal reinforcements hidden under ornate designs made of any form of visually appealing material- especially gold and gemstones.
The interiors of these spires were equally comfortable to look at and rich with detail. In the colt’s home- a rather average spire owned by his successful parents, there were twelve stories full of various things a rich family would have. Rest rooms with gold-trimmed shower handles, multiple bedrooms on the higher floors, the study on the third floor, storage rooms, two parlours at the base- connected by huge mahogany doors- and a massive living room with a connected kitchen on the second floor.
There were no basements- nearly no spire had basements, on account of the fact that half of the city was held (aloft by levitation magic-infused rune stones that never deteriorated) over the steep cliffs along the side of the humongous Canterlot mountain. The only buildings that had basements were the Palace (which dug deep into the mountain) and the Barracks. (Also dug deep into the mountain, but with smoothly carved tunnels that led non-pegasus guards around key Canterlot areas very quickly.) Most of the tunnels of the Canterlot Mountain had been forgotten. Though rediscovered during the recent Changeling attack, they were once used by the Queen’s personal guard, the Old Guard.
The Old Guard was an order of assassins- incredibly fit and well-trained ponies who were good at not being seen- who even after the Queen’s death, still followed their final orders- to keep Equestrian utopia. They subtly spread propaganda, discouraged negative thinking of any way, and (most disturbingly) eliminated “problems”. They were an old-fashioned notion, and we learned that a more effective way to dealing with problems between two sapient creatures is to utilize that sapience… But the Old Guard disagreed, and they paid for that dearly. The justice for the atrocities they had committed had been met, especially since they planned to assassinate our own Princess, for steering away from the whims of the Mad Queen.
But this is the Old Guard- an order of ponies who were kept secret for nearly four thousand years. How were these ponies discovered? … Well, it was a matter of time, and that time came with that very same colt I mentioned earlier. This little colt was named Kurt Foalington- an odd name, in my opinion. After all, what even is a “Kurt”? Well then again, I do know a pony named Jeff LeTrotski, so maybe it was some secluded trend I never caught onto.
Anyway, Kurt Foalington was a young colt, a rather quiet colt, an unassuming colt- until you witness him speaking to nopony in particular. Kurt Foalington was mad… very mad… and no pony thought he was anything but normal.
He, of course, wasn’t normal. A fair number of ponies wanted to remind him of that, to the point of downright harassment. However, through constant verbal and physical pestering from bullies who saw him as strange, Kurt learned to fight… and fight well. The Royal Guard, recognizing this horrifying talent, took him under their wings and trained him to become a guard.
Heh… “That’s just silly!” You may (and will) say, “Why give a pony with such issues such power?”
The answer: because it paid off. He prevented a war. But before I get to the story, I must introduce two more elements: Immortals, and Kurgan Indrik.
Kurgan Indrik was an immortal- a massive, ancient Rhinoceros whose time predates Equestrian origins. He led his people during the old Rhino War that had shaken the Queen so. Over four thousand years old, the beast was a warrior- with one massive tusk the size of a pony, humongous eyes with membranes as tough as leather, a thick, hairy hide that could block all but the toughest of blades, and huge hooves that could crush stone with little effort.
Kurgan was a warrior, but Kurt was young, fresh, and agile. At his age, he was at a pony’s physical peak. He was sent as a champion to challenge Kurgan Indrik in a duel to the death. The result of the duel would be the key factor in whether or not we would have another war with the Rhinos.
Despite the beast’s size, ferocity, and experience, Kurt prevailed. He had slain the one we once thought immortal. Through that, our Kurt Foalington became an immortal as well. Kurt would have… should have died on the battlefield after slaying Kurgan, but he didn’t. No one knew why. Immortality was an unheard-of concept only the Princesses could comprehend. It’s only recently that we became aware of the secluded club of everlasting individuals… like myself…
Even now, we’re only just started recording all known immortals in the world… but that is part of this next story. This is the story of a pony with a problem.
Equestria. Must. Fall.
That is what the Sea Ponies told Kurt Foalington when he asked them how to fix everything that was wrong with the world. The horrifying practices of the late Queen’s Old Guard made the giant stallion aware of the world’s problems that had occurred long before Equestria even existed. But destroying the nation couldn’t have been the way. As a Royal guard once upon a time, Kurt couldn’t allow that, even if it did seem like a viable option to the worm in his brain.
The giant burgundy stallion sat in the forest, shedding tears for the ones that were lost with the destruction of the giant metal tree in Stalliongrad, shedding tears in relief that his younger brother wasn’t among the death toll, shedding tears that the unusually powerful changeling had become attached to his brother in the first place. He knew not how a changeling managed to get close to his brother at all- said brother becoming a celebrity as far as he could tell from a distance, who would logically have a number of ponies around him to keep watch for changelings, or overly-eccentric fans at least.
It was a changeling, however. A single changeling, and not the Queen, that had managed to accumulate such power as to rend the fabric of reality itself. We saw things in the natural tears that changeling’s aura had created.
So did Kurt, he saw more than most everyone. He needed answers, better answers. After all, despite the Sea Ponies’ request, the kid couldn’t betray his comrades- his family, as much as he thought they hated him. He couldn’t send Equestria back to where the ponies came from- far to the north where the ice and blistering cold of the ancient motherland still remained.
He stamped a hoof into the ground repeatedly. As he did so, Kurt harshly hissed expletives he learned from inside jokes within the Canterlot Guard. Dry leaves were stamped and sent a few inches into the air, only to softly drop back onto the forest ground once more.
What now? Kurt thought as he sniffled. After blowing his nose with a large leaf, he stood up on shaking legs and stepped forward towards a random direction generally away from Stalliongrad.
He still gnashed his teeth at the curse inflicted upon him by the corpse of Kurgan Indrik. Kurt knew that his brother would grow old and die, potentially assisting to build a family before then. No, not potentially. The stallion was a celebrity now. As far as his older brother knew, Cornelius already had his special somepony.
The idea that he would be an uncle. In his mind, he knew that was a good thing. He always smiled at the thought of being an uncle, on account of his immortality coming with infertility. However, the more he smiled at the thought, the more the smile wavered.
But then the worm spoke.
Your only good quality is violence, it instilled into Kurt’s brain.
Yeah, Kurt thought, it is…
What now, my only companion? That changeling is dead, but it had become attached to your brother. Changelings are a parasite, my friend...
His lips curled into scowl with teeth clenched. “That damned Changeling!” Kurt snarled as he swung a hoof at a nearby tree. The immense force from the massive, titanic muscles to the hard-as-steel hooves impacted into the tree, and horrible snapping emitted. There was pain, but the massive stallion had learned to ignore it. The hoof kept on flying as splinters shot out from the powerful displacement. A few seconds later, the rest of the tree followed suit and plummeted to the forest floor. Kurt’s enraged shouting devolved into garbled words as he repeated similar actions on other trees.
His eyes beheld red and no other colours. The trees were red, the splinters were red, his burgundy hided forelegs were already a shade of red. He could feel the rage pool through his veins, the same rage he felt when he loses control and lashes out in what onlookers could assume would be desperation… if the onlookers didn’t immediately run away.
Let’s find something to eat, the worm instilled.
“Yes, let’s,” Kurt muttered as he galloped away from the splintered carnage he had left- fallen nests and all. The birds, of course, were not pleased, but the massive stallion’s bloodshot eyes were the kind of eyes that caused nightmares from a single second of exposure.
—
Several hours after that childish tantrum, the Stalliongrad-stationed Guard Captain whistled as she and two others swooped into a rather ruinous sight. Multiple trees smashed to pieces, left for the forest critters to build a nice bundle of homes with- on account of the already-ruined homes the trees used to house. Some frustrated birds were pulling nests together from the messes they made when said nests fell. Luckily, it was not the season for eggs.
“What happened here?” She asked, more to herself than anything. She had never seen anything like the destruction that had happened, even for a Manticore’s activities.
The nearest bird immediately chirped up a storm in response- the ferocity of which even caused the guards to raise a foreleg. The lead guard immediately regret asking.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Captain Jet Wing said.
The bird continued furiously chirping before another guard called to the Captain.
“Ma’am, I found hoof marks- big ones,” one guard reported after taking a close look at one ruined tree.
“How big?” Jet asked.
“Foalington big, ma’am.”
The tall armoured pegasus mare glanced at the hoof prints her cohort pointed out. Her eyes followed them further into the forest in a relatively straight line.
“By Luna’s socks… He’s getting worse,” Jet Wing muttered before shooting a look back to the guard who found the prints, “And more reckless…”
She turned to her right-hand comrade. “Report this find to Commander Hammer Fell. Have him contact the Canterlot Garrison. His tracks appear to be going in that direction.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the guard gave a quick salute before darting back to Stalliongrad.
“You,” Jet Wing jabbed a hoof towards the other guard- who seemed spell-bound by the results of past carnage until he snapped out of it and stood at-attention. “Come with me. We’ll fly low, but not too low, see if we can track him ourselves.”
The other guard nodded and took to the sky before his superior.
“What’s with this Kurt guy, anyway?”
Jet gave the young kid a weird look. “You’re new, aren’t you?”
The guard meekly nodded, “Well, I did get the memo. I just didn’t understand it.”
“The guy’s an Earth pony; full name Kurt Foalington. His fighting prowess knows no equal in Equestria. Since he was a foal, he’s been prone to… violent tendencies- though he wasn’t aware of it in his foalhood. We tried to harness his talents for the Guard… and we were successful until he suddenly went AWOL. Far as the entire Equestrian Guard is concerned, any sighting is to be reported immediately and, unless you have a skilled squadron with you, to never engage. The kid beat a Manticore with his bare hooves, and he’s well-trained against every kind of pony.”
“We can do it, though, right Captain?”
“No, Plate Mail, we alone cannot manage,” Jet replied, “We’re only to find him and tail him.”
—
At the edge of the massive forest, Kurt spotted the tall mountainous region. The tallest of which held the Equestrian capital city of Canterlot on one side, partially built into a carved-out section, partially held aloft through the wonders of levitation runes- the same magic that made that Stalliongrad tree possible.
He didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to cause more grief for his old comrades in the Royal Guard. A self-imposed isolation from his home city; something he repeats with two other cities.
What’s this hesitation? he wondered.
We are being followed, my companion.
Kurt turned around, and eyed the skies. Since his isolation, and increased reliance on himself, he had developed a more acute sense of sight, easily spotting the two armoured pegasus ponies keeping a good distance from the massive stallion.
They are guards, the worm instilled, Guards of Stalliongrad… They plan to end us…
“True,” Kurt muttered, “But they are comrades…”
But they have always planned to end us... We must stop them… or they will get more.
Kurt’s skin began to shiver in anticipation, but he instead directed himself to gallop along the edge of the forest, south-west, in the general direction of Vanhoover.
“I am not a monster,” he muttered.
