Fallout: Equestria: the Shadows that Bind the World

by theMusicalCake

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Comedy, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 14332

the Equestrian wasteland has a surprising lack of necromanacers - but only because they prefer to stay hidden in the shadows...

In the Equestrian Wasteland, there is a surprising lack of ghosts and non-radiated ghouls. This is mostly thanks to the Necromancers, ponies who specialize in the magic of death and afterlife. However, every pony has it in them to stray from their paths. And when necromancers stray, it's up to their fellow masters of death to pull them back to where they belong, whether they like it or not…

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-18 18:56:56 UTC

Chapter One (Rewritten!)

Chapter One

“This is the Equestrian Wasteland. It's nothing if not cruel.”

The Equestrian Wasteland, though dangerous and deadly, often had moments of surreal beauty. Throughout the post apocalyptic country there were pockets of calm and peace, should somepony look hard enough to find them. These places were places a pony could find And when ponies did find such a place, they would fight hoof and tail to keep it, no matter the cause.

        It was because of such a place that an earth pony settler had found himself chasing a mare through the wasteland, firing at her when he could and dodging her shots when he couldn't. He had been following her for days down this same road, from building to building and carriage wreck to carriage wreck. He'd nearly lost her on several occasions, only to catch her unawares after she thought she'd lost him.

        The stallion was currently sneaking after her down an old road. She'd thought she left him behind at an old, decrepit building, but he'd anticipated her direction, and had been following a hundred feet behind her for some time. She trotted up to a group of old, broken down carriages and stopped, reaching into her saddlebags. Seeing his chance, he quickly drew his rifle and took aim at her head.

BLAM!

         His shot flew a few inches below it's target, catching itself in her leather armour and doing little damage. She ran for cover behind one of the carriages, throwing a grenade to where she felt the shot had come from.

        She wasn't far off the mark, and the explosion knocked the stallion off his feet and towards the carriages. He quickly got back up and began running towards the mare, hoping she didn't have any more grenades to throw. Luckily, she didn't, and he made it to the cluster of vehicles without taking further injuries. He ducked behind a carriage opposite to the one the bandit had used as cover, and pulled his rifle back up into shooting position, resting his rifle on an empty window and taking aim at the vehicle across from him. It wasn't long before the bandit did the same, and the two began to exchange fire.

BLAM! BLAM BLAM!

Bullets whizzed through the air between two broken down carriages, embedding themselves in the centuries-old wood and metal. The stallion began to quickly reload his rifle, and cursed heavily when it jammed. Opposite him the mare giggled madly as she clumsily stuck several shells into her badly-repaired combat shotgun.

Forcing the clip in and sending a silent prayer to the Goddesses for luck, the stallion poked his head out from the front of the carriage and began looking around for the bandit, hoping to beat her to the punch and take her out before she him. Seeing no sign of her, he crept around the front of his shelter, hoping to sneak around to her carriage to catch her unawares. He crouched low and snuck to the side of his wagon... to find himself face-to-face with the mare, who apparently had had the same idea. For a few moments, the two simply stared at each other in shock. The stallion regained his senses, quickly pulling up his rifle and taking the shot shot, as the bandit pulled the trigger on her own weapon. They both stumbled backwards as the bullets met their marks, blinding pain taking place of all thought for tens of seconds. And then, all was still.

The stallion began to shuffle around weakly, feeling for his gun. He grunted through the pain in his face and side, and ignored the darkening around the edges of his vision. Is this what it's like to die? It's... it's not what I expected at all. Where's the flashbacks? Where's the singing angels ? Urgh. I wonder how that damn bandit's feeling right now... Trailing blood as he pulled himself towards the downed bandit, the wasteland-hardened stallion let out a weak chuckle. Where he was dying slowly, the bandit in question had died near instantly from a severe case of lead to the brain. He didn't know who he'd count as worse off; himself, or the dead mare who moments before he had been trading fire with.

After seeing his hoofwork had taken out one more of the Wasteland's many horrors, the stallion let his head fall to the ground, allowing the darkness to finally pull in from the corners of his vision and bring him to the afterlife. As the last breath left his body, he felt his spirit float free... and then, a warm Darkness settled in, and he was dead.

=#-#=

        A cloaked pony walked down a road in the Equestrian Wasteland, staring up at the cloudy sky. His walk had taken him far from his home, but he didn't mind; he found the best things when he was lost. He looked back down to the world around him, taking in his surroundings. A little ahead of him were a few old wagons, and to either side was the broad emptiness that made up most of southern Equestria. He made his way towards the empty vehicles, musing silently about what could be in the centuries-old wreckage.

        He made his way between the two wagons, and found a gruesome sight: two ponies were lying in pools of their own vital fluids, one stallion and one mare. The stallion had a trail of blood behind him, as though he had dragged himself up to the fallen mare. The mare, for her part, had stayed where she had fallen, not that she really had the opportunity to move. Her blood and grey matter were pooling evenly around her busted skull, and flies were already making themselves at home.

        The unicorn reached under his cloak with his magic, feeling around in his saddlebags for something. Finding it, he pulled out an aged, worn book. He flipped through it quickly, looking for a specific page that would help him with this situation. Finding it, he read through it and cast a spell on himself, illuminating his eyes until they shone almost uncomfortably.

        He looked at the two corpses with his enchanted eyes. To his delight, he could see a faint aura around the bodies; even though they were dead, their souls were still connected to their bodies, even if only just. He reached into his saddlebags once again, and used his magic to pull out two extra-strength health potions. He opened both of them and poured one onto the gaping hole in the bandits head and the other onto the wastelander's face and barrel. As their bodies began magically mending themselves, the unicorn began once again flipping through his book, until he stopped on the page he needed.

        Closing his eyes, he began to focus as much magic as he could manage into his horn, building up for a spell. When he had gathered enough energy, he released several crimson tendrils from his horn, directing them into the ponies in front of him. Using the energy he had gathered, he forced the spirit energy around the bodies back into them, and sealed it there. Then, he began to chant.

        His words were ancient, and had not been heard outside of Equestria's basements and back alleys for centuries. They spoke of summoning from the ether, and of binding back to the physical pane. The stallion could speak the language he was chanting, but only on a cursory level. Much of the language's works was lost to time and balefire, never to be seen again.

        He released more tendrils of dark energy, this time in blue. He chanted ever louder, using his magic to lift the two bodies into the air. He pushed his new blue tendrils into both of the corpse's eyes. Just as the magic of the red tendrils was used to seal the spirits back into the bodies of the two ponies, the blue tendrils' magic was used to bring back the rest of the spirits back, reattaching it to what was left connected to the corpses before him.

        After the blue tendrils had coursed through the bodies for several minutes, the robed pony nodded his head in satisfaction. He set the two ponies back on the ground and sat back on his haunches, waiting contentedly.

        He didn't need to wait long for the spell to begin taking effect. Soon, the bodies of the wastelander and the bandit began to spasm and twitch, releasing small wisps of crimson and blue smoke. One after the other the two ponies stood and began walking towards him, staring into the distance with a far-off look in their eyes. The unicorn, for his part, smiled as though Hearth's Warming had come early that year, and he was the only one getting presents.

        As the two corpses came to a stop in front of the unicorn, he couldn't help but jump a little, for the sheer joy of the moment. All the countless hours spent poring over books rescued from ancient ruins throughout Equestria and beyond, uncountable bottlecaps spent sending mercenaries into dangerous areas to find him artefacts, it was all paying itself back tenfold. All the time and money he had spent were worth it, for he now had what every necromancer wanted – right and proper zompony minions.

        The unicorn pulled his hood back, revealing a disheveled mane and ecstatic grin. He decided that now was the perfect time to test the extent of his control over his new minions. “You,” he said, turning to the bandit. He started thinking about what exactly he would do. His grin grew wider when he decided on a command. “Start dancing,” he said. The unicorn laughed aloud when the reanimated mare began to do an irish jig, limbs jerkily bouncing along to a tune no one could hear. “Alright,” he gasped, trying to breathe through his fit of laughter. “Okay, you can stop now.” Even after she had stopped, it took several minutes for his laughter to fully subside. Once he managed to regain his composure, he began to wonder what he would make his other new minion do. As he shifted his saddlebags to make them more comfortable, an idea came to him. “Well mister,” He said happily as he levitated his saddlebags out from under his cloak. “Now it's your turn.” The stallion stared at him listlessly. “Come and take my saddlebags; I'm tired of carrying them around all the time.”

        He held them in front of the stallion to take, waiting patiently for a minute for him to shamble over and retrieve them from his magical grasp. Then he waited a minute little longer, a frown developing on his face. And then another. On the third minute of waiting he turned to see exactly what was wrong with his new minion, a deep frown on his face. What he seen made his blood chill. The wastelander stallion was staring at him angrily while the bandit mare beside him staring blankly into space. The unicorn quickly backed up, his cheerful mood a memory on undead winds.

        “But... but this shouldn't be happening!” he exclaimed. “I performed the spell perfectly! I did everything word for word – you should be completely under my control!” His horn lit with crimson aura, which he began moving to envelop both of the zombies. It quickly covered the mare, pulling her deeper under the necromancer's power. However, when it touched the stallion it... ceased. Whenever it came close to touching him it simply faded out of existence, draining into the ether of the afterlife.

        Ignoring the possible ramifications of coming into close contact of two zombie ponies, one of which was sentient (and clearly pissed), the unicorn rushed towards them, trying to figure out exactly what had gone wrong with his spell. He did a quick physical examination, finding nothing out of the ordinary for zombies. Neither was breathing, and neither had a pulse. For all purpose and reason, they were both dead. But where the bandit mare didn't react in any noticeable way to her environment, the stallion's eyes followed the necromancer, his body showing his readiness to run if things became dangerous. The more he looked at the two zombies in front of him, the more and more worried the unicorn was becoming. As he leaned in for a closer look of the wastelander, the stallion jumped back in alarm, wary of the hooded pony and his dark magicks. The bandit mare continued to stand there, blankly staring at the necromancer. He took note of this, taking the new information into account to make his decision.

        After much thought, the unicorn decided that one zompony would be easier to deal with in the long run, even with his own mind. Acting on this choice, he turned his head to the bandit mare, muttering a few words under his breath as his horn once again lit with crimson auras. Once again the magical aura began to envelop the zombie bandit, until she was completely covered in the necromancer's magical grasp. He concentrated on the aura surrounding her as the stallion stared on warily. The magic surrounding the bandit flared a bright blue and ignited, burning away the walking corpse until there was nothing left in her place but the items she was carrying when she had died. The wastelander jumped back from the pile in horror and the unicorn moved forwards, beginning to search through the pile of items and ash for anything useful.

        “W-what'd you DO?!” he shouted angrily. He rushed forward to search the pile, searching for some sign of life he knew he wouldn't find.

        The unicorn, for his credit, didn't so much as flinch when it turned out that the zompony could speak, not to mention shout. “Well,” he replied as he pocketed a small fortune's worth of bottlecaps. “I figure that it's gonna be hard enough to deal with one uncontrollable undead minion. I would've much preferred to get rid of the you, seeing as you're the one who I actually can't control, but it seems as though I can't touch you with my magic, either. So, well, I could only get rid of her, couldn't I?” He continued searching through the pile of ashes for a moment more before he stopped and turned to the stallion. “Wait,” he said. “You were both dead when I got here, and it sure as Tartarus looked like you'd done each other in. Why d'you care if she's dead now?”

        “I-I just think that...” The stallion went quiet for a moment, trying to arrange his thoughts. They were just as confusing to the necromancer as they were to him. “ It's just that even she deserved better than to be turned into a zombie, then just discarded like that!” He stomped his hoof down for emphasis, landing it directly in the pile of ashes and sending much of them flying into the air. Seeing what he'd done, he quickly pulled his hoof back, disturbing the ashes even more.

        The necromancer laughed aloud at the sight, turning and walking away from the undead stallion and the pile of ashes. After a few moments of walking alone, he turned back to the stallion, who was still standing by the pile of ashes. “Well? Are you coming or not?” He asked, patiently waiting. “While my magic might not be able to affect you, the Equestrian wasteland isn't exactly known for it's kindness towards creatures of the undead persuasion. Even if you don't exactly like me, I can assure that you will be mostly safer in my charge.” With this said, the necromancer turned back around and sat down, waiting quietly for the stallion to make up his mind.

=#-#=

        The zompony stood still for a moment, staring between the pile of ashes at his hooves and the pony sitting a few feet away. Try as he might, he couldn't wrap his mind entirely around the situation. On one hoof, the pony at his feet had been, until a few minutes ago (by the Goddesses, had it really only been a few minutes?) trying to kill him, was now a pile of ash at his hooves. Between then and now both she and him had been turned into undead monsters by a necromancer who was currently sitting only feet away, waiting for him to make up his mind about whether or not the stallion wanted to serve him. Not to mention the fact that as soon as he had decided he had had no use for the bandit, he had simply discarded her like an old rag, turning her to ashes where she stood like it was something he did every other day. Which wasn't to say he didn't; the wastelander really had no clue what to think about this pony.

        On the other hoof, he was, for all intents and purposes, a ghoul now. And like the necromancer had said, the Equestrian wasteland wasn't exactly kind to the undead. And if staying with the unicorn could ensure his safety from the other ponies of the wasteland and their thoughts of the undead, then it didn't really seem like he had many options.

        Sighing, he walked towards the hooded unicorn, doing his best to ignore the fact that he could no longer feel the slight breeze running through his fur. Turning around to see what had happened, the necromancer smiled widely before grabbing his saddlebags with his magic and depositing them onto the back of his new companion. After he did this he turned back around and continued walking, oblivious to the earth pony's glare. Sighing once again the stallion followed behind, contemplating exactly how tall a mountain could be for him to buck the unicorn off of and have him still alive afterwards.

        As he thought, a glaring thought made it's way into his head – he had no idea where they were going, or how long it would take to get there. “Hey,” he called up to the unicorn. “Where the hell're we going, anyways?” The unicorn turned his head back to look at the stallion and gave him a look of confusion.

        “I thought that'd be obvious,” he said. “We're on our way to my base of operations. If we hurry up-” at this he gave the stallion a pointed look, as if to motion him to move faster. “We should be there in an hour or two. If not, well... I hope you don't mind camping out. That little scene you caused back there cost us a very large portion of sunlight.”

        The earth pony bit his tongue at this, trying his hardest not to shout that it was him who'd brought him and the bandit back to life, and him who'd decided it would be appropriate to incinerate the mare. Instead of shouting, he simply sighed loudly and walked along with the unicorn, staying a few steps behind him so as not to accidentally engage in conversation once again.

        Talking to the unicorn was quickly becoming a fate worse that re-death.

Chapter Two (Rewritten!)

Chapter Two

“You live in a library?”

“Well... yes. Yes I do.”

        It was twilight in the Equestrian wasteland. In a small settlement stood a house, inhabited by a small filly and her parents. Smoke rose from the chimney as the mother cooked a meal of radhog and various preserved foodstuffs, the soft light coming from the fire and only adding to the atmosphere of homeliness and comfort. The father and the filly sat in the living room, telling his daughter stories from when he was younger, of his days as an adventurer.

        Just before he regaled a particularly bloody scene, the filly's mother intruded in his tales, telling the storyteller and his one-mare audience that dinner was ready. The small family made their way into the kitchen and began enjoying their meal in a comfortable silence, glad to be with each other and to be able to share the moment. It would be heartwarming to say that this was the necromancer's family, but it would also be a complete and utter lie. These were just his closest neighbours; they did their best to ignore him and all the sights and sounds that came with his (in their opinion unfortunate) existence.

=#-#=

        Several miles outside of the small town, the necromancer and his unwilling companion stood at the door of a dilapidated shack. After walking silently together for several hours, they had made it to the necromancer’s home. After looking at the small, ramshackle building, his companion had been disbelieving, to say the least.

        “This is it?” He asked. “Just a shack? No spires, no zombie guards? Just a shack?” He continued looking around, trying to find some sign of the necromancer's evil. Some sort of secret entrance to an underground lair, or a monster guarding the house from the shadows.

        “Yes, this is it,” the hooded pony answered. “I haven't really needed anything more than this. It does fine in holding my possessions, and it stops ponies from asking about my 'evil schemes'.” Pulling the door open with his magic, he ushered his companion into the unlit building. After entering, the necromancer fumbled around for several minutes, searching for some light source. After slamming his back knee into a table three times he found what he was searching for, and a dim light illuminated the room.

        To say it was messy was a gross understatement. Everywhere the reanimated pony looked, there were piles of objects. Some were stacks of scrolls and tomes, and others were mountains made of clothes and ancient food boxes, all of which were empty. His eyes were pulled to one corner, where he could see something that may have been some type of edible substance at one point. It clearly hadn't been touched in a very long while. He wasn't quite sure what it was, or whether the movement that had drawn his eye had been real, or just his imagination. His investigation was cut short by the clearing of a throat. The wastelander turned to see the necromancer looking around embarrassedly, as if just now realizing how much of a mess his home was.

        “Yes, well... I didn't expect my minions to be sentient, so I didn't exactly prepare a room for you. I don't think the guest room is too bad; you can probably stay in there.” He pointed down the only hallway in the house, to where three doors stood closed. “I hope you wake up early, because we have a lot on our plates for tomorrow.”

        With that the necromancer walked down the hall and into his own room, closing the door quietly behind himself. After looking around at the abyssal mess of a front room for a few minutes more, the stallion made his way down the hall to his own room. Opening the door, he began to wonder what “bad” was to the necromancer. Throughout the room were piles of odds and ends, from tin cans and milk bottles to ammunition clips for anti-machine rifles. If he looked from just the right angle, he could see a bed along the far wall, covered in old robes and what looked like piles of scrap metal. Sighing, he began to clear a path to the bed, vowing to force the necromancer to clean up at least a little on the next day.

        After doing some moving around, he had cleared an area on the bed that seemed large enough to hold him. Forcing himself down onto the cleanish mattress, the reanimated pony closed his eyes and attempted to sleep. He shuffled a bit, trying to find a good position. Then he closed his eyes a little harder, trying to block out what little light there was in the room. He shifted again.

        Falling asleep, it seemed, was easier said than done. Try as he might, the stallion simply couldn't get comfortable. Either the bed was too lumpy, or there was too much light, or the wasteland was making too much noise. It was unnerving, how hard this was for him.

        Eventually, though, he did fall asleep – though what awaited him in his dreamland was not something he was looking forward to in the least.

-=+-+=-

Run. He had to run. No stopping. He couldn’t stop. If he stopped, then they caught up. He couldn't even look back to see his pursuers. That would mean slowing down, and slowing down meant they could catch him.

Dark, dead trees whipped past him, whipping at his skin and pulling at his face. But he couldn't slow down to find a less dangerous route. The things behind himweren't making a noise, passing soundlessly between the trunks and branches. The silence scared him more than the sound of a thousand raging hellhounds.

He ran on for what felt like hours, but when he chanced a look back he seen that the things were keeping pace. And where he was growing tired, they soldiered on, seemingly unaffected by the strenuous run. Panic pumped a newfound energy into his veins and he picked up his pace, putting a little more distance between himself and the things chasing him.

While he was busy looking backwards to gauge the distance of the nightmarish monsters, the stallion forgot to look at the ground for roots and low branches, a mistake that would prove to be his undoing.. His hoof caught on a root, and he went down hard. Oh, goddesses. He thought. Not like this. I didn’t come this far just to get caught now.

The things behind him began to hit trees and make noises, hissing like snakes and screaming like bloodwings. Bumping into trees and screaming, it was almost like they wanted him to know they were coming. He stumbled to his hooves and tried running away, only to slow down. If they’re gonna catch me, he thought grimly, they're gonna have t'fight to keep me. He quickly decided on a plan of action, sick of running away from the nightmarish monsters.

He turned around in a clearing, readying himself to face the monsters racing to capture him, and instantly blanched. The monsters were truly indescribable in their horror, made up of everything that went bump in the night. Here, a giant ant's head was attached to the body of a windigo, with the tail of a manticore poised threateningly over its body. Beside it stood a monster that’s horror put the ant-headed beast to shame. It was covered in pony heads, many screaming in silent horror, with others simply staring, having accepted their fates. The silent heads were somehow worse than the screaming ones, he thought.

The monsters behind the two on the forefront were even more horrifying than those closest to the earth pony, becoming less and less comprehensible and more and more outlandish the farther back from the center of the clearing they were.

Suddenly, staying and fighting seemed like a silly idea; the stallion's courage had sunk away from him like an anchor dropped overboard now that he could actually see what he was running from. He turned around with the intention to run and hide, or at least to put more space between himself and the horrors that he could now put a face to.

The monsters, though, didn't seem to want that to happen. Whipping its tail forward with lightning speed, the manticore-windigo-ant caught him in the flank, releasing burning poison into his veins. His backside went limp, and he stumbled once again to the ground, no longer able to stand.

The monsters slowly closed in around him, revelling in his terror. They began jostling for a position closest to him, preparing to tear holes into his flesh and feast on his organs.

-=+-+=-

The stallion was jerked awake by a rough shaking of his head. “Wake up, stupid!” The necromancer shouted. “It's time to get your lazy flank out of bed and do some proper servant type things!” He was still wearing a cloak, though whether it was the same one as yesterday was a mystery. In the last day he had been with the dark magician, he had never seen his body, other than his face and hooves. Letting go of the bleary horse, he trotted out of the room, shouting over his shoulder, “Meet me outside when you're ready to be useful!”

The stallion stood up, trying to clear his head of the nightmare. To him, it was far more terrifying than his death; while dying had been a harrowing experience, he didn't remember much of what had happened. All he could remember was life fading out, and then waking up with the zombie bandit and annoying necromancer. He couldn't remember what it was like to be dead; he could only remember dying and coming back. After he felt he could function without dwelling on the horrors that inhabited his dreamworld, he followed the necromancer out of the shack.

Outside, the unicorn stood staring to the village, his back to the shack. The stallion walked up and stood beside him, staring down into the village as well. It was a surprisingly well-built village for the Equestrian Wasteland, exceedingly so for one that he didn't know about. In the distance he could see the residents of the town begin exiting their homes, preparing for a day of hard work.

“I've always loved this town,” the necromancer said quietly. “It’s where I lived before I started my apprenticeship with the necromancer who taught me. They don't like me very much anymore, but I've always felt a pull here, like I need to help them more than anyone else.” Looking at the stallion's surprised face, he said, “What, you thought that necromancers were evil?” When the stallion's surprised expression did not change, he made a deeply amused sound. “Oh, goddesses no! Even though we necromancers deal in death and blood, we're actually the good guys. Most of the time. Some of the time. Well, good and evil are confusing. It's our job, more than anything, to keep balance. In the times when history books were written, this meant playing the villain. But now that death and evil are everywhere, it's our job to play the hero. We go from place to place, helping clear out black zebrican magic, and getting rid of zombies and spirits where we can.”

        This information, though semi predictable, was a lot for the stallion to take in. Though, looking at the stallion beside him, some of it began to make sense. Looking at the unicorn beside him, it would be hard to see him as evil if he ran into him in the wasteland randomly. In all honesty, he looked more like one of the priests of Unity than anything. But still... if necromancers were good, then was this pony a hero for bringing him back? And did being “good” give him the right to bring him back from beyond the grave? All this and more was spinning in his head, but at the base of all of that was one main question: “What's your name, anyways?”

For a minute it seemed as though the entire wasteland went silent. And then the necromancer broke out in raucous laughter. “I drop all that information on you,” he gasped between laughs, “and you ask for my name? I'm glad you're funny; I would've hated to be stuck with a zompony with a stick up his arse for the rest of my life.” After finally fighting down his laughter, the necromancer sighed. “But seriously, my name's Dark Heart. It sounds really terrible, but I’ve made a habit of not going with what people expect me to be like. What's yours? I never actually had the chance to bother asking, what with you breaking an unbreakable spell and me having to dispel my only other potential minion.”

        After a little thought, the stallion decided that Dark Heart was trustworthy enough to tell his name. “Name's Ammo Surplus,” he said. “Reflects pretty damn well with my cutie mark.” With that he pointed to his flank, where a small calibre round was present. “I tend to be a little... zealous with my ammo when I’m fighting.” Looking back towards the town, Ammo Surplus started to think about what Dark Heart had said earlier, about necromancers only playing whichever side needed balance. “Wait,” he said, startling the unicorn, “If you're good, why'd you bring me back? That seems kind've evil to me.”

        Dark Heart sighed, knowing that question would be asked sooner or later. “Well,” he started, “I needed a companion to help me in what's to come, and I felt that bending the rules like this would be better than trying to convince a living person that not only are most necromancers actually the good guys right now, but that I would need their help to keep the wasteland from being overrun by the undead.” Dark Heart turned to look at Ammo Surplus, trying to gauge his reaction to this news.

        For a minute that seemed longer than it was, he was silent. Then, in a very silent voice, he asked, “What do you mean, 'overrun'?” It was clear that the earth pony was having more than a little trouble digesting this new news.

        “It's... hard to explain. Essentially, one of the other necromancers, Evil Intentions, has decided that he's done going with the status quo of the necromancers, and that he's going to rule the wasteland.” Dark Heart grimaced, hating the need to explain this to someone. “It wouldn't be so much of a problem if he was just a necromancer. But Evil Intentions also learned quite a bit of other zebrican magic. We don't know how he did, but now... he's more powerful than us, and the others are too scared of him to fight back. But I'm not giving up.” With a determined look, he turned to Ammo Surplus. “Which is where you come in. I've decided I'm going to go out and learn some more powerful magic myself. On my own, I would undoubtedly die. It's extremely dangerous where I need to go, and I need a bodyguard.” His determined gaze softened into something nearing a pleading stare. “I can’t cast that spell again, not after what happened with you. I don’t need to deal with both Evil Intentions and a band of rogue zombies. Please, I... I need your help.”

        Ammo Surplus turned from the settlement to Dark Heart. “Of course I’ll help. The ponies of Equestria shouldn’t need to deal with necromancers and dark magic, and if you have a way to stop them from ever having to see those horrors, I’ll follow you to hell and back.” He stared hard into the unicorn’s eyes. “But I swear to the goddesses, Dark Heart. If you’re lying, and taking advantage of me to further your own goals... you’ll have more to worry about than an uncontrollable zompony.”

        Dark Heart wilted a little under the threat, but then jumped in excitement when he realized that Ammo Surplus had agreed to help him. “Okay,” he said enthusiastically, “First we’re going to need some information! And I know exactly where to look...”

Footnote: Level Up!

Perk Added (Ammo Surplus): Ghoulish Resilience (1)

Thanks to your new presence in the undead world, you can now take more damage before becoming injured, and have a natural resistance to unicorn magic. Every level taken in this perk reduces your charisma with those without this perk.

Quest Added (Team): Hunt for Power!

A dark force is growing in the Equestrian Wasteland, and it is up to you and your teammates to save everyone! While in this quest, experience gained in quest locations doubles, and select items become available to your team in quest locations.

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"Eeyup."

        “So, this is it? This is where we get you ultimate power? It doesn’t seem all that impressive to me.”

        Dark Heart and Ammo Surplus were standing in front of a large building that may have once been a Royal Guard outpost or a post office, for all the markings that were left on it. The windows and doors were barred up with mottled wood, signs that someone had lived inside the building for quite some time. Whether or not they were still there, though, was a question whose answer Ammo Surplus lacked. The walk to this building had been uneventful, with no surprise attacks by bandits or even a flock of bloatsprites. The only thing less eventful than their surroundings on the way to this building was the conversation; the two only spoke when they were giving directions or warnings, and other than that they were concentrating on ignoring each others’ presence.

        “This isn't where we get the power,” Dark Heart responded as he searched for an unsealed entrance. “This is where we find out where the power actually is.” Finding what he was searching for, the unicorn motioned his companion forward, before turning and pulling himself through a small hole in the side of the building.

        Ammo walked over to the hole, trying to make out some shapes in the area beyond. It was too dark inside to see anything but silhouettes and blurred shapes, none of which were moving.

        Ammo Surplus sighed as he squeezed himself through the hole. Silently, he asked himself if following a cloaked pony with control over the dead and dying without asking what was going on was going to become a regular occurrence.

=#-#=

        Dark Heart crept through the hole, letting his eyes adjust to familiar surroundings. As soon as he could see, he did a quick glance around. Everything was just as it was the last time he was here, down to the dusty coat rack in the corner. Nodding in approval, he walked out of the room, down a hallway that was just as dusty as the room he had been standing in before. As he walked, he remembered what he had found on his first visit to this old building.

(-~-~-~-)

Dark Heart pulled his way through the storm, searching for some sort of shelter. The rain was coming down so hard it seemed as though the entire cloudcover was coming down around his ears. Lightning flashed, and a building became visible in the distance. Thunder roared in his ears as he began galloping towards his new objective.

Stopping in front of the building, Dark Heart took in it's surprising level of preservedness before pulling the door open and rushing inside. He'd had enough of that rain, thank you very much.

He made his way inside, thinking only of getting out of the rain, and not of the potential dangers of his temporary residence.

Now inside, Dark Heart began to look around, trying to find something he could use as a mattress for the night. He could see that the room had only one other entrance, leading into a hallway that would bring him deeper into the building. He did a quick search of the entrance room, not expecting to find anything of particular value. He walked to the doorway, deciding to see if he could find somewhere decent to bed down for the night.

On the other side of the door, he found a hallway with four rooms leading out; the three closest to him didn't have proper doors, only empty doorframes or half-there doors leading into dark rooms. The fourth door, the one farthest from him, was the only one with a fully intact door still standing.

Dark Heart walked down the hallway, poking his head into each doorway to see if any of the rooms had anything of interest in them. Nothing in the first two rooms particularly piqued his interest. As he walked past the third door he stopped looking for loot, figuring that if he hadn't found anything yet, he wasn't going to.

He stopped in front of the last room in the hall, the only one which still had a door. Figuring a standing door meant that the room was the most well preserved in the building, he tried to open it, deciding to stay in there for the night. After several tries with his magic, and several more with his hooves, Dark Heart decided that the door was locked. Not for the first time, he berated himself for not learning how to pick locks. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Dark Heart walked away, deciding to stay in one of the other rooms.

As he walked through the doorway to the room he chose, a loud creak echoed through the building. Somepony had opened the locked door. Dark Heart stopped moving, listening intently to the noise of the building. Faintly, he could hear breathing. Using his magic, he reached under his cloak and grabbed his .44 Magnum. Sure, he could use his magic to deal with whatever was near, but he found that killing with a gun was that much more satisfying.

Holding his weapon aloft, Dark Heart snuck towards the door, trying his best (and failing miserably) not to make a sound. He stopped just outside of the now open door, crouching against the wall, and listened for any more sounds of life in the room. He could still hear breathing, but now he could also hear a faint fluttering of wings. These wingfalls didn't sound like a pegasus, though. They sounded more insect-like, almost as though a giant dragonfly had gotten itself stuck indoors.

Steeling himself, he quickly pulled out into the doorway, looking around the room to try and find the source of the breathing and wingfalls. What he seen shocked him so badly he dropped his gun.

Laying in the center of the room was a creature straight out of a Lovecoltian novel. A cross between an insect and a pony, the prone monster had teeth that looked able to tear through pony flesh with ease, and giant, translucent wings attached to its barrel.

Barely thinking, Dark Heart unloaded all the ammo in his gun at the creature. He missed all but one shot, which grazed the creature's holed leg. Apparently magic would have been a much better option than using a gun he had little to no training with. Once bitten twice shy I guess, he thought, as he charged his horn with eldritch energies. While many unicorns used their magic in combat with deadly precision, Dark Heart had trained more in other areas; as a result he had decided that blowing holes in his enemies the size of bloatsprites would simply have to do.

Before he could release his blast of energy, however, the creature laying on the floor spoke. 'Wait!' it screamed. 'Pleasse, don't kill mmee! I can give you tressuress! Yess, Mogg knowss where the treasuress are. And if you kill him, you wiill never get the treassuress!'

(-~-~-~-)

        Dark Heart never did get that treasure, come to think. Oh well, he thought. I'll bring it up today, and that damn changeling'll just deny it ever happened, and give me some half-true information instead. Just as well, though. He wasn't here for treasure today; he was here for information. Fully true information, if he could get it. If not, well, he'd just have to make due.

        Standing in front of a very familiar door, Dark Heart stopped for a moment and listened. He could hear the familiar sound of breathing and wingbeats coming from the other side of the door, and he didn't have to listen very hard to hear his new companion bumbling about somewhere in the building behind him.

        Sighing at the uselessness of today's minions, he opened the door in front of him, disappearing into the darkness of the room beyond.

=#-#=

        Ammo Surplus pulled himself the rest of the way through the hole, standing up to his full height. He cast a quick glance around, trying to locate the unicorn who had been in front of him moments before and to take in his surroundings.

        The inside of the building looked much the same as the outside. And by that the inside of the building was old and broken down. Broken furniture was scattered about, with a thin layer of dust coating everything. In a corner of the room was a coat stand with an ancient jacket hanging, waiting for a pony who would never come to retrieve it.

        Looking to the floor, Ammo Surplus followed the unicorn's hoofsteps out of the room and down a hallway. It seemed to him that Dark Heart had either been here before, or knew exactly where what he was looking for could be found. Ammo didn't know if he should have been apprehensive about this information, or if he should have expected as much.

        The hoofsteps led Ammo Surplus to a door, behind which he could hear muffled talking between two ponies. Not thinking twice, he pulled the door open and walked in, surprising the pony and thing talking in the room.

        Wait.

Thing?

        Ammo Surplus gaped at the horrific monster in front of him. Standing about as tall as an average pony, it looked like a giant insect had tried to turn into a pony, but had forgotten about its chitin and wings. It's legs were filled with holes that leaked a green ooze, and it's mane and tail looked like hanging moss. The most horrific thing about it, however, were it's eyes. They looked like an insect's eyes, single-coloured and divided into hexagons to allow for more viewing area. But they looked hungry. The type of hunger that came only with not eating for weeks. And they were staring back at him.

        “Well!” Dark Heart shouted, pulling all eyes in the room to him. “Ammo Surplus, this is Mogg. Mogg, Ammo Surplus. I'm glad you two have had the chance to meet each other. Ammo, Mogg here is going to tell me where to find what I'm looking for.” the unicorn was trying his hardest to keep his stallion partner from screaming Bloody Mare and unloading his weapons into the changeling. So far, it seemed as though he was doing a bang-up job.

        “Yess,” Mogg rasped, “I wiill tell you where to find an object of power. But firsst, you musst do ssomething for Mogg.” the changeling made his way to a door at the back of the room, making sure to keep an eye on the gunslinging zompony. “As you know, Dark Heart, I amm allone. My hive abandoned Mogg here yearss ago, ssure that he would die of sstarvation.” the creature released what may have been a laugh, though to the two ponies present it sounded more like a creature wheezing it's last breath. “Clearly, they did not anticipate a crazy pony in a sstorm. Now, while normally you would feeed Mogg for information, he feelss as though a tidbit like thiss iz worth a tad more than just enough love to keep me going until your next vissit.” Opening the door, Mogg used his magic to grab something from the room behind him, keeping it hidden behind his body. He turned back to Dark Heart and Ammo Surplus, still hiding his new object. “You musst promisse me now,” he whispered, as if afraid that someone would overhear, “that thiss object never be used.” he hissed his commands as he revealed his hidden object: a small, black orb.

        Dark Heart sucked in a breath and Ammo Surplus simply stared at it, confused. He turned to Dark Heart, hoping that the unicorn could cast some sort of light on the situation. The unicorn, realizing his confusion, whispered “That's a mana battery! Unicorns in pre-war Equestria would pump them full of power over long periods of time, sometimes years, so they could cast huge spells. From the looks of that one, it has some crazy power in it!” Turning back to look at the creature holding the orb, who was currently staring at a sliver of light on the floor as though it might kill him in a horrifically violent way, the unicorn added, “Then again, it could just have been some old crone's source so she could heat her tea. With that changeling, I find it's best to go in expecting everything and hoping for nothing.” Ammo nodded his head in understanding, wondering how often his new 'friend' had dealt with the creature before him to have made up this assumption, and how many other otherworldly monsters he knew on a first name basis.

        Stepping forward, Dark Heart went to grab the mana battery from Mogg, only to have the changeling shriek and hide it behind himself. “Nno! Pony magic activatess the sstone!” Turning to Ammo Surplus, Mogg held the black orb out. “You musst take iit, sso that that iidiot,” he gestured towards Dark Heart, who managed to keep his facial expression to a small hurt. “Doess not 'accidentally' usse iit.” Seeing no alternative, and sharing some of the same feelings regarding the necromancer as the changeling, Ammo Surplus stepped forward to grab the mana battery, trying to reach the orb and stay away from the changeling at the same time. After inching forward for several moments, the changeling decided that he was close enough to grab it, and dropped it into his outstretched hoof. After sticking the battery into one of his saddlebags, the stallion made a hasty retreat to Dark Heart, who simply stood there with the hurt look on his face.

        Not able to resist, Ammo Surplus said, “You know, if you keep doing that, your face'll stick that way.”

        That snapped him out of it. Changing his expression of hurt to one of distaste, Dark Heart turnt to Mogg and asked, “Well, alright. We'll take it off your hands and keep it safe, I guess. So where do we go? And what do we look for?” the unicorn stared at the changeling, impatiently waiting for his response.

        Mogg, to his credit, was content to make him wait. He spent another few minutes staring cautiously at the beam of light, then shook his head as if leaving a trance. Looking up to Dark Heart, surprised that he was still standing there, Mogg said, “The poniess need to go to the Oassiss, and look there. As to what it iss... that iss for you to fiind out.” he turned from the two ponies then, retreating into the dark room behind him. “Hurry, liittle poniess. You have a long journey ahead of you, and from the ssoundss of iit, not very much tiime to get iit done.”

        “The Oasis? That's on the other side of Equestria! Come, Ammo, we don't have much time!” Dark Heart rushed out of the room, leaving Ammo Surplus to follow behind him, shaking his head at his comrade's dramatic ways. He was right, though; the Oasis was on the other side of the Equestrian Wasteland, and would take quite some time to reach.

        Dark Heart and Ammo Surplus left the building through the hole from whence they came, leaving Mogg to his own business, and set off back towards Dark Heart's home. If the journey was going to be as long as the two thought, then they would need to properly equip themselves for the journey, which would mean a wagonfull of supplies. From the way things were going, Ammo Surplus was sure he could tell which one of the two of them would be pulling it.

=#-#=

        Dark Heart walked several feet ahead of Ammo Surplus, trying to digest this new information. Alright, he thought. So, first: our mission is taking us to the Oasis. Alright. I can deal with this. Second: Ammo Surplus has apparently never seen anything other than ponies and a few radiated creatures. A minor setback, but one I can deal with. Third: Mogg gave us a mana battery. A powerfulmana battery. And I'm not allowed to touch it. I'm not too okay with this, but I can't get it from Ammo yet. After making his mental list, Dark Heart felt much better about all these new facts. Slowing down a bit, he matched his pace to his partner's.

        “So,” he said. “Have you ever been to the Oasis?” He stared at Ammo Surplus, trying to read his expression.

        “Nope,” Ammo replied. “I never really went too far from my settlement until the day I died.” The level of nonchalance in his voice shocked Dark Heart; normally when he talked to the dead, they were much more sensitive about their deaths. He was speechless.

        Any further attempts at conversation Dark Heart tried to make were quickly shot down by the earth pony, until he eventually gave up on the project altogether. Silence sat between them like a wall until they reached his home once again.

=#-#=

        “Alrighty!” Ammo Surplus said loudly, as the two of them walked up the path to Dark Heart's home. “Now that we have a proper destination, we need to start getting ready! Do you have a wagon or something we can carry our stuff in?” From the unicorn's blank stare, it was clear he didn't. “Okay. That's not too much of a setback. How about a food store? Weapons cache? How about a radio?” Dark Heart continued to stare at the earth pony blankly. “How the hell did you survive this long?”

        “Mostly luck,” he responded. After a moment of silence he added, “And zombies. Zombies are great.” Ammo Surplus facehoofed. Of course, his necromancer partner could summon dead things. Why hadn't he thought of that before he started making plans and trying to figure out who would need to pull what?

        “Okay, I hadn't thought of that. Could you summon something to help pull around a wagon? I think I might be able to find a useable one down along one of the roads that we can use.” With a nod, the unicorn rushed into the house, mumbling something about 'Apples' and 'Salt'. Deciding not to question him, Ammo Surplus walked down towards the town, hoping to find something to hold all the supplies they would need.

        As he walked, he thought about what had happened in the last two days. It had started out normally enough; he was chasing a raider out of his town for some crime or other, he couldn't remember now. For some reason, it seemed insignificant now. A gunfight had broken out, and it hadn't gone like they normally do. He'd died. That was a pretty big thing on his list of things he didn't want to do again any time soon. And then, well, he'd been brought back. Which, again, was a pretty big thing. Sure, sometimes ponies were given a second chance, but this... this seemed a little bit much to come back from. Ponies didn't come back from getting shot like he did. It just didn't happen.

        While he was thinking and walking, he was checking the wrecks of wagons and carriages around them, seeing if any of them could be repaired enough to carry their supplies. While he wasn't exactly a master of mechanics, he did have a fair level of skill in fixing things, learnt from various books and his own experiences with guns and busted up robots. He'd picked one he'd wanted to use, a dark grey wagon with a roof, and had made a list of things he'd need to find to make it useable again. So far he'd managed to collect a new axle for the back wheels and a new tire. He picked up his searching speed; if he was going to have it finished, he was going to need to go a lot faster.

=#-#=

        Dark Heart was in his basement, a room as dark and dank as would be expected of a pony who dealt in the magic of death and decay. He was rummaging through shelves full of various pots and jars at a pace that managed to be both frantic and lethargic all at once. He knew exactly what he wanted; it was just that finding it was becoming a bigger mission than stopping Evil Intentions. He knew he should have kept everything in order, something his mentor had done. The problem was, he was something his master was not: lazy.

        Finding what he container was searching for, Dark Heart turned around to the large clearing on the floor behind him. He focused his magic, using it to reach into the jar and grab some of the powder that was inside. He moved it around the room, drawing a circle. He then drew a circle a quarter of the first's diameter, and filled the space between them with symbols in both old Equestrian and Zebrican. The necromancer glanced over his work critically. A single mistake in the symbols would mean anything between complete failure and the accidental summoning of demons. Not that it had ever happened to him; as lazy as he was, even he knew better than to be lazy and screw up on something as important as a magic circle.

        After deeming the circle useble, he turned back to his shelves, searching for an old box full of old objects he thought he'd placed in it's place. He knew, though, that it wouldn't be there. He was seldom that lucky when it came to things like this. And he was right; the box was nowhere in sight.

        After spending another five minutes looking for the box, he finally found it sitting with a pile of rusty tin cans. Dark Heart didn't even know why that was there, vowing to remove it at the first chance he got. Tin cans were stupid, and they did not belong in his workspace. He stuck his head in the box, rummaging around for a specific trinket. After shuffling around for a while, he found it: a small miniature of an orange earth pony mare with apples for a cutie mark. On it's base, it said “Be Strong!”

        He placed it in the center of the circle, and backed out of the farthest ring on the floor. He began concentrating on a spell that was a cross between a scrying and summoning spell. First, he began to focus on the connections to the toy in front of him, slowly allowing the stringlike bonds souls had made to it come into his vision. Each bond was a different colour, and had varying levels of brightness directly correlating to the soul's connection. There were four bonds connected to the miniature mare in the circle; a creamy white, an orange the same colour as the mare, and a rusty red. He focused his magic, pulling at the red string, willing the soul it belonged to to enter his circle.

        He didn't need to pull hard before he felt the soul begin to rise; earth ponies were deeply connected to the world, even centuries after they had died. Dark Heart continued to pull, helping the soul to pull its way to the physical plane. Soon, he could see a large transparent pony standing in front of him. He smiled, and turned behind him to grab another object off the shelf. He made quick work of the search, grabbing a small metal object in his magical grasp.

        He turned back to his circle and threw the metal trinket into the circle, where it exploded into black eldritch fire. He quickly backed up and shielded his eyes from the flash that was simultaneously sun-bright and midnight-black.

        Pulling his hoof down from his face, he set his eyes on the successful result of his summoning: a large red earth pony with a straw-blonde mane and tail stood before him, gazing around the basement silently.

        “So, MacIntosh,” the unicorn said. “The afterlife been treating you well?”

        “Eeyup.” was all the earth pony said; in truth, Dark Heart had never been able to get him to say more than four words in succession in all the times he had brought him back from the dead. It made for very boring conversation, to say the least.

        “Alrighty then! Well, sorry to call you back on such short notice,” Big MacIntosh simply stared at him. “But I need your help again. I promise, this time I don't need your soldier skills. I just need you to pull a wagon for me.”

        After staying silent for a few moments, the large pony simply nodded his head and began walking to the stairs, only to walk into an invisible force, stopping him in his tracks. Giggling guiltily, Dark Heart scuffed his hoof through the magic circle, breaking it and allowing Big MacIntosh to leave it. “Sorry,” he said as he followed him up the stairs. The earth pony turned and stared at him intently, making the unicorn look away in shame.

        “Oh, you're gonna love Ammo Surplus!” Dark Heart exclaimed. “You and him have so much in common! For one, both of you can't seem to get enough of me...”

=#-#=

        After what felt like hours, Ammo Surplus had finally done it. He ran a hoof across his forehead, letting out a breath of air. In front of him sat a fully repaired wagon. Around him were the dozen or so wagons and carriages he had taken parts from to make it work. It had taken some time, but he was more than a little proud of his hoofwork. The wagon had enchanted gemstones taken from carrier wagons, allowing it to hold more weight and feel like much less was there.

        Hooking himself into the vehicle's harness, he began to walk quickly it back to Dark Heart's shack. Even though they now had a wagon, it didn't mean they could go slow. The harness was a little big on him; he hoped that whichever poor pony the necromancer had brought back was bigger than him, even if just slightly.

        After a half an hour of walking, Ammo surplus was back at the shack. As he unharnessed himself, Dark Heart exited the building, talking over his shoulder.

        “And for another thing,” the unicorn was saying, “You're both earth ponies! So you'll have earth pony things to talk about, I guess. That's something you guys do, right? Talk about earth and... oh! Ammo Surplus, there you are! I was beginning to worry that you'd been eaten by radhogs. This is Big MacIntosh, he'll be pulling our wagon. While you were gone, I took the liberty of packing our supplies for the trip.”

        After Ammo Surplus got over how monumentally large the stallion was (thank the Goddesses the harness was large!), Ammo Surplus stared behind the unicorn through the doorway where, sure enough, a large pile of foods and weapons was gathered. “You gathered this? All by yourself?” Ammo Surplus couldn't believe it; there was no way a pony who could barely survive on his own had done this.

        “Actually... Mac here helped me.” Dark Heart looked at the ground embarrassedly, while Big MacIntosh seemed particularly pleased with himself, pushing his chest out slightly with pride. Ammo Surplus stared at him for a moment, trying to find out where he'd seen a pose like that before. Something about the stallion was familiar, but he couldn't quite put his hoof on it. Shrugging, he began to grab various supplies for the wagon, while Dark Heart got Big MacIntosh harnessed.

        “Oh, Mac, you're not gonna guess what happened! Remember Mogg? What am I saying, of course you do! You tried killing him once,” the unicorn chuckled as he talked, lowering the harness onto the earth pony's back with magic.

        Ammo Surplus tuned him out as he put the food into the cart, sighing. If he's this loud for the whole damn trip, he thought, I might just have MacIntosh put me out of my misery.

=#-#=

        Inside Mogg's refuge, the years of caked dust was being unsettled by a flurry of activity. The changeling was a blur of movement, running from room to room grabbing various odds and ends and stuffing them into a sack. He suddenly stopped, listening intently for something. When he didn't hear it, he would continue moving at his high speed, shoving things into his bag and taking other things out.

        As he flew by the last whole door it exploded off it's hinges, sending him flying and showering him with splinters. Standing in the doorway were four gryphons. They all wore green combat armour, but there was a difference among them: where a black club, the rest had other suites in a deck of cards: a diamond, a spade, a heart.

        “Changeling,” the heart gryphon, a black female, said, “We've been hired to retrieve a mana battery from this location. Presumably, our client knew you were here. So, where is it?” She stared expectantly at Mogg, who had a suitably terrified expression on his face.

        “Uh.. ah... giive Mogg a moment.” Mogg ran into the room behind him, looking for some means of escape. He found it in a small window, boarded up ages ago. He ran to it and began pulling the boards off, trying to be both as fast and quiet as he could. He was stopped short by a chest full of shotgun pellets.

        The club gryphon walked into the room, holstering his combat shotgun. He stooped down and picked up the wounded changeling, bringing him back into the hall and other gryphons. “Oh, changeling, you wound me,” the heart gryphon said, talking to Mogg once again. “Did you think I'd let you get away, and miss out on this pay? The down payment was enough to live off of comfortably until I die, but the full sum... well, needless to say, you will tell me where the mana battery is.” As she said this, she pulled out a wicked looking knife. “And if I have to get it's whereabouts the hard way... so be it.”

Footnote: New Party Member Added: Big MacIntosh!

As long as this character remains in your party, the weight of all food items and items under 5 lbs is negated. As long as this character remains in your party, your movement is slowed by 0.05%. As long as this character is in your party, all apple-related foodstuffs and weapons gain 20% stat bonuses.

Footnote: Level Up (Dark Heart)!

Perk Added (Dark Heart): the Power of (one-sided) Friendship.

So long as a companion is affected by this perk, their armour and weapon proficiency is increased by 20% when you drop to half health or less. So long as a companion is affected by this perk, you take a 10% penalty to all Charisma actions made against that character. For every level taken in this perk you may have one more companion affected by the Power of Friendship.

Footnote: Quest Updated!

Your search for power has lead you to begin a journey to the Oasis! It is up to you and your team to make it to the Oasis before other forces can impede your quest.

Chapter Four (Part One)

Chapter Four

“We don't like you an' yer 'out of town' type here, mister.”

        Big MacIntosh trod along attached to the carriage, musing about his life after death so far. For him, in the same way as it was for many, much of the afterlife had been uneventful. Most of it had been spent with the spirits of his family, with trips through the Glen to see other people he had knew while he was still alive. Every so often, like most spirits, he would make a checkup on the mortal world, to see what was happening. It was on one such expedition that MacIntosh's afterlife suddenly became much more eventful. He had had a run-in with a cloaked unicorn sneaking around near where Sweet Apple Acres had once stood. When he had walked closer to see what was going on, he had not expected the unicorn to turn and look at him with glowing eyes, something shocking enough to make even the impassive Big MacIntosh balk – ghosts were invisible to those to whom they had decided not to appear to, and Big MacIntosh had certainly not decided to appear to this oddly-dressed equine.

        After he had seen him, though, Dark Heart had made it his mission to summon the gargantuan earth pony, spending weeks gathering the necessary materials. For most of it Big MacIntosh simply watched on in curiosity; at the time he didn't know what was going on. On the day that the necromancer had turned to him and asked for something personal of his, the large earth pony had thought nothing of leading him to the statuette his sister had given him. It wasn't like he needed it anymore, and his momma had always said to be generous no matter what.

        Big MacIntosh was still trying to figure out if that decision was a good one or not as he assessed the current situation. He was pulling a carriage down a long, abandoned road with Dark Heart and his new companion, the necromancer trotting along a few meters ahead of both the two earth ponies. His new companion was, just like Big MacIntosh, very quiet when dealing with the unicorn. Both he and Ammo Surplus, as far as he could tell, were currently zombies. But there was something about Ammo Surplus that made him feel different to MacIntosh. He couldn't put his hoof on it – hay, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to – but it was there, bright as daylight before the megaspells.

        Even while deep in his thoughts, Big MacIntosh's military training from before his death had made him aware of the raider party coming up quickly beside the three travelers. From what he could gather, there were five bandits sneaking quietly towards them, all but one wielding guns. The only one not using a firearm was a unicorn almost as large as Big MacIntosh, with large horseshoes on his forehooves. He looked to them discreetly, gauging the distance between himself and the raiders. He stomped his hoof and snorted, trying to get the attention of at least one of his travelling companions. Ammo Surplus, noticing his sudden movements, looked over to him.

        Big MacIntosh motioned over to where the bandits were as they slowly pulled ever closer to the three travellers, and Ammo Surplus trotted up to where Dark Heart was walking slightly ahead of the group. He stopped beside the necromancer and grabbed his tail, yanking him back just as one of the raiders shot at where he had been standing. Shots started raining down on them as they ran towards the carriage, most missing but some catching themselves in Ammo Surplus' barding as he shielded his armourless companion, none making it past the protective layer the leather barding provided.

        He threw the unicorn onto the unattacked side of the carriage and out of the gunfight, then drew his gun to return fire. Big MacIntosh was quickly unhitching himself from the carriage, thankful of the other earth pony’s rush to pull the attention of the bandits to himself. Even though he was currently undead, he could still feel bullets, and they still hurt just as much as before. As soon as he was free, he reached into the carriage, pulling out a hunting rifle loaded with five shots.

        He pulled up the gun and shot at the large unicorn, allowing himself a satisfied smile when he caught the unicorn in the side, causing him to stumble but not fall. Thinking about it, he realised that he didn’t feel bad at all for shooting a pony. After taking another shot, and downing the unicorn brawler as it landed in his neck, he found out why - while he had spent his time in the military fighting zebras, his problem wasn’t with zebras as a race. his problem was with bad people of any species; he just happened to have been enlisted to fight bad zebras. Three shots, he reminded himself as he spun to target another attacker, only to have his chosen enemy drop in a mess of blood and gore where his head had once been. Turning to the source of the shot, he seen Ammo Surplus turn to target another raider, trying to dispatch as many of the enemies as he could while still not wasting all his ammo as he normally did.

        Big MacIntosh pulled his head back into the fight, shooting the unicorn with oversized horseshoes in the leg to stop him and shooting his last two shots into a crazed-looking mare who had gotten frighteningly close to the wagon. Big MacIntosh heard a sickening splorch, and looked over to where the last armed bandit had been standing. He seen no pony, a red puddle oozing out from where he had been. Looking back at the wagon, he caught the sight of Dark Heart ducking his head back around the side, a crimson aura still hanging lightly around his horn. Choosing to speak to the unicorn later over his excessive methods at a later time, the oversized earth pony walked out to where the downed unicorn still lay, trying fultilely to get to his hooves with a limb nearly blown off. Big MacIntosh stopped in front of him as Ammo Surplus made his way over, looting the fallen bodies along the way. As the slightly smaller earth pony trotted up to the pair, an aura flowed around the unicorn's horn and hooves, and he kicked forwards at Ammo Surplus with his forehooves.

        Before they could make contact, however, the unicorn found his limb dissolving into limp flesh and pockmarked bone. He pulled his bloody stump back, howling in pain at the newest, horrendous development of his failed ambush. Big MacIntosh and Ammo Surplus both recoiled from the sight in horror as Dark Heart walked up calmly to the newly-amputated unicorn.

        “Well then,” he said as he came to a stop directly by the downed pony's head. “Now that you know exactly why you don't attack ponies wandering through the wasteland, I have a few questions for you. One: are there more of you around here somewhere? Two: even if there aren't more of you, where'd you come from? And three: really? You would attack a group of ponies with horseshoes? Your allies all had the common sense to pick up something that goes 'BAM,' why couldn't you?” The necromancer shook his head in confusion, then stepped back to allow the stumped raider to answer.

        “W-we were coming f-from over the – over the hill, t-theres an old f-factory we were livin' in. T-there's still a few of us i-in there, so- so please, just... just don't do whatever you did to me again!” The horshoed pony was cowering in fear, trying his best to get away from Dark Heart with one hoof down from the average pony and lying in a pool of his own vital liquids.

        “Well,” he answered, grinning. “I won't do that to you again. Big Mac, Ammo, please go and get the cart; I know we were supposed to be heading straight to the Oasis, but I'm afraid that we now have a raider nest to clear out.” Still trying to take in the fact that the unicorn who was so unprepared for everyday life in the wasteland that he could barely use a firearm had just dissolved a pony's forearm, the two earth ponies simply nodded and walked quickly back to the cart to rehook Big MacIntosh, as Dark Heart continued his conversation with the fallen raider.

        As soon as the two had Big MacIntosh hooked into the wagon once again, they quickly made their way over to Dark Heart to collect him and be back on the right track to the Oasis. Walking towards the unicorn, both stallions tried their hardest to ignore the fact that the one person in their party who they had thought was the least deadly apparently had the power to bloodily remove the limbs of a pony. As the two trotted up to the unicorns, Dark Heart turned to look at them, smiling widely.

        “Good news, everypony!” He exclaimed happily. “After talking to mister raider here, I found out that there is a small settlement near his encampment! So, after we clear it out the factory, I think it best that we make our way to this town and sell whatever valuables we can find while working our way through.” With that said he turned back to the prone unicorn, smiling as his horn lit with it’s usual crimson glow. “Now, mister unicorn,” he started, lowering his horn to the prone pony. “While I said I would not do that-” he gestured to the bloody stump of an arm “to you again, I did not say that I would not harm you again. And I simply cannot allow you to go free in good conscience. So, this is goodbye, and curtains for you.” With that, Dark Heart lowered his horn to the unicorn's side, and his crimson aura flowed into the pony. In a flash of light that Ammo Surplus had seen once before, the raider who had been lying on the ground was no more, reduced to a pile of ash and whatever he had been wearing.

        Dark Heart lifted his head and trotted on in the direction of the factory, humming a tune to himself. After allowing themselves to collect their thoughts, the two earth ponies hurried to catch up to their necromancer companion, making sure to not step in the pile of what was once a pony.

=#-#=

        The factory, like most of Equestria, was a dilapidated wreck. There was no glass in any of the windows; instead, boards filled the window frames, and occasional silhouettes passed by behind them. From their vantage point on a hill roughly a hundred meters from the factory, Ammo Surplus kept watch for bandits leaving the building. Dark Heart and Big MacIntosh sat nearby, discussing the best way to take the building.

        “I'm telling you, the best way to take the building is to wait until dark!” the unicorn exclaimed. “We wait until then, then we sneak in! If we wait until night, they won't be able to see us, and they won't be ready!” He stomped his front hoof into the ground to emphasise his point.

        Big MacIntosh, for his part, simply stared at the unicorn and shook his head in disagreement. “No,” he responded in his deep voice. “The best way t'take the building'd be by stormin' it now. They're not ready fer us either way, an' if we do it mah way we'll be able to make good time t'the Oasis.” Turning his head to Ammo Surplus, he asked, “What d'you think, Ammo? S'it a good idea t'take th'factory now, or t'wait until nightfall?”

        Ammo Surplus thought about it as the two behind him continued to argue back and forth. On one hand, they had the guaranteed advantage of darkness to allow for surprise, though they would need to wait hours before they could put their plan into action, loosing precious time in the process. On the other hand, though, they could be through with the whole thing much sooner at the cost of surprise. He continued watching the factory as he thought about the options, and almost missed the trader's caravan on the way up the road to the building. It was still some distance off, though the pony leading the cart looked as though he travelled this road often. “Both of you, calm down,” he called. “I think I just got a much better plan than either of yours.” Turning around, he quickly told his two companions his idea, and they set off towards the trader to put the wheels in motion.

=#-#=

A trader walked up towards the main door of the Sparkle-Cola head factory, preparing to sell his wares to the bandits inside once a month. He knocked on the battered old door, and waited for the watchpony on the other side to open it. After a quick look at him, the grizzled old earth pony who was on shift nodded his head and opened the door, allowing the merchant and his cart in.

        As soon as the merchant was inside he made his way towards the commons of the factory. It was where he customarily set up his supplies, and it was where most of the bandits spent their time when they weren't pillaging and murdering. As soon as he entered the room (a large affair with a bar along one wall and several tables set up with chairs throughout the room), bandits flocked to him to examine his wares. Many of them rushed up to look at the items in his cart as he backed away quickly, trying to get away from the throng of ponies and griffons. As soon as he was out of the veritable mosh of bodies, he began to count down from ten, bracing himself for what was to come.

        He was not disappointed. As he reached zero, the side of the cart exploded outwards, knocking many of the bandits flying and impaling several on shrapnel. As the others around the cart were milling about in confused terror the door through which the merchant entered was blown off its hinges by a giant of an earth pony wearing barding and carrying nothing but an old hunting rifle. The behemoth pony rushed into the building gun blazing, and was followed shortly by another earth pony armed with a submachine gun and a unicorn in a cloak, who was smiling madly as he cast spells into the crowd. It didn't take them long to deal with the bulk of the bandits, and those that were left fled further into the building, seeking shelter and reinforcements.

        “Alright! That was absolutely amazing, don't you guys think? I think it was.” The unicorn said as his horn lit up and much of the gore around him began shoving itself back. “I mean, wow! Ammo, you were right. They didn't see that coming at all!” Looking to the merchant, who was definitely not cowering in the corner, it was a stealthy crouch thank you very much, the unicorn smiled. “Well, we definitely couldn't have done it without you, now could we? As promised, here are those caps,” he said, levitating a small pouch towards the merchant, who snatched it out of the air gratefully. “I suggest you grab whatever's left of your cart and get out of here fast, though. It's only gonna get hotter in here.” As he said this, the two earth ponies began walking towards the exits the surviving bandits had fled through.

        The merchant bent to begin collecting what he could from his destroyed cart, as the necromancer began walking after his companions. Then, as if he thought better of it, the hooded pony turned back around, looking towards the beaten bodies of the bandits. As the merchant looked on, the unicorn closed his eyes in concentration, as motes of energy began to appear in the air and flow towards his horn. Suddenly his eyes shot open, revealing them to have changed drastically. Instead of their normal colouring, his eyes were pure crimson. There was no longer a pupil or iris, only a deep, all-encompassing blood red. The magicks gathered around his horn shot toward the swathe of corpses lying in the room. As the magic made contact with the bodies on the floor, some of them began to glow with a crimson not unlike the colour of the necromancer's eyes. These newly glowing ponies got to their hooves, and began walking towards the unicorn who, for his part, simply smiled wider and ran after the rest of his allies, the reanimated corpses shambling along after him.

        The merchant, in his defense, did not faint. He had seen quite a lot in his life, and corpses getting up and walking away after being mowed down by three insane ponies didn't bother him (much). After he had sufficiently collected his belongings with only slighty shaking hooves, he made his way quickly towards the exit of the building, determined to leave and never think of today again.

As he walked out the door, the merchant heard something that made him pause. Shuffle shuffle shuffle. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to turn and look to what was producing the wet shuffling. Shuffle shuffle shuffle rip crunch. Shaking now, he steeled his nerves and turned to see what was making such awful sounds.

        To give credit, he managed to bleat out some words before succumbing to his unconscious and fainting at the sight of one of the reanimated ponies gnawing on the face of one of the bandits who hadn't been affected by the necromancer's spells.

=#-#=

        Deep inside the factory, Big MacIntosh and Ammo Surplus were clearing a small room that looked as though it was a bunkroom of some sort. Presently there were three bandits piled near the door; one would think that they would stop coming, but apparently one forgot to mention that to the bandits as another leaped over the pile to be mowed down by the sheer firepower Big MacIntosh's new toy. “Ah think that's all of 'em,” he rumbled, allowing the anti-machine battle saddle to cool down. “Where'd that durn Heart git off to? Ah havn't seen 'im since we got past that main room.”

        Ammo Surplus walked forwards calmly and began searching the room for any ammo or armour he or Mac could use. “I don't rightly know,” he replied as he opened a footlocker at the base of one of the bunks. The sound of many hooves thundering by the door, followed by a familiar insane laugh, gave both of the earth ponies an idea as to where their companion had disappeared to. Finishing up quickly with the room they were in, they ran into the hallway and after the cacophony that had passed them by minutes before.