The Great Equestria Warsby VespulanChaptersThorseCause of eventsUnfurled WingsMobyThorseCHAPTER 1: THORSE In the days before Princess Celestia and her sister, back when Griffons roamed across Equestria and passive Dragons roamed across the fish-filled sea, Cloudsdale had been a thriving community of Pegasi from all over Equestria. The elevated haven sat between Canterlot (a large trading town for the Earth ponies) and gentle mountain slopes inhabited and civilised by the Unicorns (known today as the 'Unicorn Range'). These three settlements acted as trade and commute between the three pony races and for one thousand shining years, Central Equestria fell under the mystical magic of friendship and harmony. This was, however, not a unity to last. Between the pages of this tome lies the story of how darkness and evil spread across Equestria and led to the Great Equine Wars. It is in the South where our story begins, beyond the Macintosh Hills, where the 'Badlands' stand today. However, back then the Badlands did not stand as it does today – a desolate plateau where even the bravest pony would dare not roam for fear of being gobbled up and spat out by hideous and foul creatures, their very souls twisted and wrapped by torment and fear. Instead, the badlands fell under a different name: Aching Rock. Deep under the mountain top (for a mountain it was back then), a grim cave full of peculiar bands and charms wormed itself to its very core. It would not be under much stretch of the imagination for one to picture the kind of Stallion that would inhabit such a place – a unicorn with a dark, grey mane and a matted coat that might well have been a dashing shade of green once but through the dirt and sweat it would be difficult to tell. Now what would a unicorn who's intellect matches that of Starswirl the Bearded and who's rogue-like charisma could sway even the most stubborn of mares be doing inside a rank cave hunting cave-bats and mushrooms for food? To answer that question it is required to go even further back into Equestria's history to the reforming of the Great Unicorn Court. Sovereign the Elegant, a beautiful mare if ever there was one, sat upon the gilded throne at the Spiral Palace, a huge masterpiece crafted from Crystal from the desperate northern mountains and glass blown from glittering sand, hauled from the South-Western desert (such a palace no longer exists - although the Crystal Empire was built following similar architecture – but was instead dissolved into 'Vanhoover'). Sovereign had taken to the throne at the end of a generation, her father and his vassals growing too old to rule any longer and across the Unicorn territories castles and holds were left empty (regrettably a race-wide trait in Unicorns is arrogance and pride, and many Unicorns felt an heir was just another way to lose power even faster). It was up to the young new queen to employee a brand new court and among the list was our hermit living up in Aching Rock, except at this time he was a dashing young foal under the name of Thorse. Now Sovereign quickly became captivated by Thorse and, under the delusion of royal blood, believed she could have whatever she wanted – so she asked for his hoof in marriage. However, it was by exploiting her love that Thorse got all his greedy mind could wish for from the queen and would have taken the crown from her very horn had it not been for a rather surprising young hero, a foal with a thick, grey coat and rich, black mane – Cordal*. A musically talented unicorn whose brilliant mind (that could only be described as 'different') tricked and exposed Thorse and led to his sudden banishment and disgrace; but not before he cut Cordal down in an unfair duel and dragged him down to Aching Rock in his expulsion. Under a fresh new court, the unicorns thought themselves safe while Thorse set himself a new challenge with a macabre new goal: revenge. For years he hid in the Macintosh Hills, kidnapping and bending the will of residents in a nearby Earth pony town (known to us as Appleoosa) into carving out Thorse's new residence. For years more the Stallion waited, slowly becoming less and less recognisable as tales spread across the South of Griffons, Dragons and Reindeer relocating from the mountain and inequine noises piercing the night. It would be too hideous to describe the acts that were performed in that hovel, the hideous creations and failed tests that lined the walls, but Thorse's efforts were not in vain. It was on the day of the 'Canterlot Parade'; a mighty festival where ponies from all races and factions joined to buy and sell, to feast and drink and to share their stories from all across Equestria, that an awful and absolute thing befell the peaceful continent. Needless to say, many of the congregating ponies' stories told tale of the dark magic spewing from the South, but were regarded as clop and trollop by the Central Equestrians. It was therefore with great surprise that thousands of pairs of eyes were thrown southwards when an enormous explosion emanated from Aching Rock and, with sheer disbelief, watched as whole boulders of rock hailed down across Canterlot and, indeed, the whole of Equestria (except for the most Northern mountains which were unreachable even by the raw force thrown out of that great mountain). As hooves thundered across the Canterlot square in search for cover, the dust clouds rising from impact craters slowly cleared to be replace with a shadow darker than night itself. Crumpled in a broken heap lay a twisted form – a wing here, a horn there and at what one could only assume to be its head, a large glaring yellow eye. A similar sight could be observed at what was left of Aching Rock, a battered Thorse curled up in the foetus position chuckling sourly to himself and slowly drifting into an infinite sleep. King Bremane Puddinghead (a successor of Chancellor Puddinghead) marched out of Canterlot Castle accompanied by his Royal Guard and stood inspecting the furry comet that had landed in his courtyard. Barking questions at his secretary, Bremane trotted in circles whilst Ponies sprang from hiding to get home and see if they had fallen victim to the 'natural disaster'. However, this disaster was far from natural. Thorse's grotto had been its epicentre and his creation now lay staring into the face of the Earth Pony King – the horrendous Chimera (more tastefully called a Draconequus): Discord. For fifty years, Thorse had sat in the mountain capturing goats, griffons, salamanders, even dragons with the sole purpose of embodying the spirit of chaos – Discord incarnate – and upon griffon shoulders lay a head with a thinning, grey coat and fading black mane. With a deep, groaning sound the beast raised its snout and stared into Bremane's eyes, mimicking his expressions and raising the rest of its body painfully from the ground. Suddenly a misshapen wing flew outward, catching one of the Guards in the cheek and sending him spinning. Instantly seven more Earth Ponies from the Guard threw themselves at Discord, attempting to contain the menace, but were quickly defeated by ferocious claws and dark magic spewing from both of his horns. A blood-curdling roar escaped his mottled jaw as awkward wings carried Discord above Canterlot and West, towards the beautiful nimbus of Cloudsdale. If you had seen what Discord had seen as he floated up, above the peak of Canterlot mountain, you might have seen the upside-down tip of Aching Rock off the East coast of Filly Delphia (the island that has now become Manehatten) and a huge, dark patch just South of Canterlot that seemed to be growing roots: the Everfree Forest. It was in this damaged world that a new era began under chaos and tyranny: the Great Equine Wars. Author's Note Hello everypony! In relation to this story, I would be incredibly grateful if some incredible artist or other could find it in their hearts to make some suitably epic cover-art. If anyone IS interested, a quick PM would be sufficient so I can give you more details. ENJOY! Vespulan Cause of eventsKing Bremane Puddinghead (a successor of Chancellor Puddinghead) marched out of Canterlot Castle accompanied by his Royal Guard and stood inspecting the furry comet that had landed in his courtyard. Barking questions at his secretary, Bremane trotted in circles whilst Ponies sprang from hiding to get home and see if they had fallen victim to the 'natural disaster'. However, this disaster was far from natural. Thorse's grotto had been its epicentre and his creation now lay staring into the face of the Earth Pony King – the horrendous Chimera (more tastefully called a Draconequus): Discord. For fifty years, Thorse had sat in the mountain capturing goats, griffons, salamanders, even dragons with the sole purpose of embodying the spirit of chaos – Discord incarnate – and upon griffon shoulders lay a head with a thinning, grey coat and fading black mane. With a deep, groaning sound the beast raised its snout and stared into Bremane's eyes, mimicking his expressions and raising the rest of its body painfully from the ground. Suddenly a misshapen wing flew outward, catching one of the Guards in the cheek and sending him spinning. Instantly seven more Earth Ponies from the Guard threw themselves at Discord, attempting to contain the menace, but were quickly defeated by ferocious claws and dark magic spewing from both of his horns. A blood-curdling roar escaped his mottled jaw as awkward wings carried Discord above Canterlot and West, towards the beautiful nimbus of Cloudsdale. If you had seen what Discord had seen as he floated up, above the peak of Canterlot mountain, you might have seen the upside-down tip of Aching Rock off the East coast of Filly Delphia (the island that has now become Manehatten) and a huge, dark patch just South of Canterlot that seemed to be growing roots: the Everfree Forest. It was in this damaged world that a new era began under chaos and tyranny: the Great Equine Wars. “The King is sick in bed, ma'am.” A sturdy guard stood smartly to attention addressing Sharp Cookie, the new court Secretary. “We are doing everything we can but none of our apothecaries have ever seen anything like it.” It was three days after the arrival of Discord, and an inexplicable illness had taken hold of Bremane, Sovereign and General Flood (not related to Commander Hurricane or Private Pansy, elected instead for his hard-line policy on Unicorn relations). Members of all three races had now retreated to their respective holds and the Pegasi particularly stood isolated in Los Pegasus and Cloudsdale. Cookie dismissed the guard and stepped over to a blue coated Unicorn – one of the few not travelling West - with a grey, hooded cloak wrapped around her shoulders. “What do you think Sentinel? If these reports are correct, the King is suffering the same ailment as your Queen.” “And Flood; they flew him down to Los Pegasus yesterday. They even came to us for help,” muttered Sentinel as she stared out across Canterlot. Born into a very strict and well-off family, she had been destined to end up working in Royal affairs, but it had come as a surprise when Sovereign had asked her to be Ambassador in Canterlot. Canterlot! Ever since she had visited it with he parents on one of her mother's business trips she had become enamoured with the mountain-side city: great spires towered towards the fresh, mountain sky and gentle, flowing streams etched their way from springs up-high, cascading into shimmering pools and canals that separated the Canterlot districts expanding from the base of the mountain. She had always thought it would have been best under a Unicorn rule. “Has there been any news from the scouts you sent South?” “Yes, an owl flew in just this morning and I'm afraid its pretty foul. Apparently a small hamlet town was completely destroyed when the rock hit and now dark-branched trees are growing from the ground at an incredible rate. I was planning on taking a look myself, if you wouldn't mind accompanying me...” Cookie turned to Sentinel trying to determine her response, but her expression was nonplussed. When Sentinel had arrived at Canterlot as ambassador, Cookie had always been there making her feel at home. Cookie was the one Earth mare she thought she could really trust. Suddenly a warm grin spread across her face. “Of course! But we'd better hurry. It doesn't sound like a place we want to be when it gets dark.” As the pair walked through Canterlot, it was clear something had got the residents traumatised. Although the market had been re-erected and people still chatted busily throughout the smart streets, it wasn't with the usual Earth Pony vigour – as though a curtain of shadow and doubt had been painted across their minds. Heads turned and glared at Sentinel as she passed through and a foolish teenage filly even approached her and spat at her hooves. Cookie instantly brought her own hoof into the filly's chin, sneering aggressively: “What in Equestria has got into you all? What's she done that deserves such insolence?” Cookie spoke with such authority that the filly's yellow coat turned a deep shade of red, and the gathering crowd which was in danger of becoming a mob humbly retreated, murmuring incomprehensible curse. “Maybe I should have brought my cloak...” Sentinel turned towards the castle but instead felt a reassuring leg around her neck. “N-no, don't do that. I... like you said, we need to get their before dark!” Smart Cookie rushed her words and nudged her companion down a less-populated alleyway. By the position of the sun, Sentinel reckoned it was getting on early afternoon, but her mind was slightly distracted by Cookie – she was acting strangely and whatever had worked up does other Earth Ponies, she figured it might have affected her as well. She mentally prepared herself in case any kind of conflict arose. As the pair hurried South, it became obvious that the old, peaceful town that sprawled across open country, inhabiting thick glades and hugging one of the larger rivers pouring out of Canterlot had been completely destroyed - replaced instead with grim pine-trees that seemed to grow by the minute and threatened to completely obscure the stamped-out path crafted by the scouting party before them. Although the sun had not quite set, inside the sprouting forest it may as well have been midnight. Sentinel furrowed her brow, emitting a bright light from her horn and lighting the way before them. However, the further into the coniferous mess they travelled, the worse the path had been defined – and it didn’t help that branches thrust themselves outwards, as if to embrace the tree opposite them and forming a dense barrier. Cookie drew herself to a halt just in time to avoid poking her eye out on a low-hanging branch, panting heavily following the exhausting run. Taking in a deep breath of foggy air, she realised her vision had become dark and blurry. She shook her head, blinking, but no improvement came. It was now that she realised it wasn't her own vision that had worsened, it was the light being created by Sentinel's magic. “Sentinel...” Her voice echoed throughout the forest and, pivoting on her hooves, she turned just in time to see her companion collapse in a lapis-coloured heap on what remained of their path. “Sentinel!” Cookie rushed towards the unicorn, placing a hoof on her waist and rocking her gently. “Sentinel, wake up! We don't have time for naps.” Squeezing gently on the Unicorn's stomach caused her to groan and stir slightly but, as she did, what was left of her glow flickered out and the two were left in utter darkness. Unfurled WingsOn the soft, pure-white foundations of Cloudsdale, a sturdy, well-built Pegasus stood gazing out across a drill square lined with ranks of Pegasi performing harsh exercises and battle drills. In three days the amount of recruits posted to the Cloudsdale Home-Guard had increased ten fold, merchants and civilians unable to fight flying south as their homes were turned into Barracks and numerous military structures. Anti-Unicorn propaganda had popped up across the floating city and scouts were sent down to Canterlot and the Spiral Palace to judge defences and relay information to the Marshals and Captains in the Cloudsdale Wing Headquarters. Intelligence personnel restlessly sketched detailed designs and determined the best tactically procedures required to capture or destroy their enemies cities. As he aimlessly stared at a small group of troops sparring with one another, Major Markus of the 12th Royal Wing went through the last few days in his head. It just didn't seem to make any sense to him – one minute everyone was getting on flawlessly, the next some weird beast dropped into Canterlot. Now the three rulers of Equestria were incapacitated and everyone seemed to be blaming each other. He trotted away from the training grounds as the sun began to sink into the Western sea and headed for the Officer's Mess. “We can't do anything until we receive orders from Los Pegasus! General Flood is the only person who can order an attack on another city and you know it.” “General Flood may not be alive tomorrow. The Unicorns are readying their own armies and if they strike before we do, we face the danger of loosing Cloudsdale!” Two high-ranking officers stood arguing with each other as Markus passed through the bar and into a small corridor that led to his quarters. On the hard, compressed cloud that made up his desk lay a small pile of papers – mainly Quarter-Master notices about acquiring new battle-dress and a long-winded invitation to an emergency Officer's Summit to decide upon who should take command should the worst happen to the General. Markus sighed and was about to tuck the papers into a hard-backed leather folder when a small slip of paper fell out between the sheets. He recognised the scrawled writing immediately – it was from his closest and – truthfully – only real friend who had been with one of the few military regiments flying South from Cloudsdale to scout of the Eastern Pegasus borders. In the letter, Windston described the situation and stated he wouldn't be coming back to Cloudsdale for a while as his regiment was being posted near Los Pegasus. This made Markus sad – it meant he'd have to spend the next few months surrounded by red-faced Sergeants and angry propaganda describing how somehow the Unicorns and Earth Ponies were the cause of all their problems. Markus could see he wasn't going to be able to get any sleep so, tucking the letter into a draw, he instead headed out to watch his Company perform some night-based training manoeuvres. MobySharp Cookie knelt next to her companion, panting hard from the effort of pulling the Unicorn along the soft, muddy ground. She'd decided to simply pull Sentinel in a straight line from where she collapsed, in the direction of the path, but branches and roots were rapidly covering the ground and heavy, stench-filled air as well blocking any slices of Moonlight that might pierce the rotting canopy above her. Cookie had lost hope hours ago, but still held her friends hooves between hers as she hauled them both between the ominous trunks, moss and sap sticking to her already mottled fur. At last her strength left her and, agonising strain, pulled Sentinel into a small knot of roots and rested her own head in a pile of odorous lichen. Heavy eyelids willingly slid shut, taking her from a the dark forest to an even darker sleep. The Earth mare fell unconscious just as a gorse bush next to her head rustled, and an old, wiry Stallion with a silk handkerchief shoved up his nose practically burst into the small clearing and scooped the two mares with surprisingly little effort up onto his shoulders, bounding back into the undergrowth. “...No no no, you're doing it all wrong! Lean forwards, lift your knees and THEN extended your hind legs! Yes, yes, that's more like it!” Sentinel lay just inside on of the make-shift tents pitched by the Earth Pony scouting party, nibbling on a dried-out oatmeal biscuit watching the grey haired Marshall explain to his squad how to buck properly, in an attempt to fend off the thick, threatening branches that were still relentlessly growing out of the forest, but thankfully now at a rather feeble rate. Next to her lay the battered body of the Earth Pony advisor, lightly snoring in a heap of mixed fur and foliage. “Come on you cupcakes, put your hooves into it! I've seen caterpillars snap twigs faster then this! Stiff-Stick, how are the rations?” “Not lookin' good Marshall, not much more candles left and we're down to the last box of extra-sweet sugar lumps.” A young-looking troop nervously addressed his commander, who purposefully strode over to the storage tent and lift the crate of delicious, military-standard sugar cubes onto his back. “Right o' Stiffy, keep an eye on the candles and split up the rest of the oatmeal. Good stuff, rather...” The Marshall trotted off, humming a bizarre marching tune and head towards the shelter where Cookie and Sentinel lay resting. “High-ho-hum my lady, you're awake! I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but we really have no time. Now if you'll excuse me...” Marshall Moby (as that was the veteran's name) reached over a bemused Sentinel's head, hoisted Cookie out into the candle-lit clearing and gave her a fierce head-butt. Sentinel leap to her feet, astounded by the Stallion's actions, “What do you think you're doing?! That's the King's advisor!”. Moby briefly glanced in Sentinel's direction before landing another sharp fore-head slap upon Sharp-Cookie. The mare grunted and her eyes flickered open, a look of complete confusion sweeping across her face. “There we go! Right as rain. Now then Cookie, as I've just told you Unicorn friend, I'd love to answer your questions but we have to get a move on. Canterlot will be expecting us back, and time is a-wasting!” Moby once again charged off, shouting out incomprehensible orders and stamping his feet in a comical fashion. Sharp Cookie shook her head, still not completely aware of... well, anything really. “Cookie! Are you all right? That Stallion just head-butted you! Do you remember what happened? The last thing I rem...” Sentinel urgently bombarded the poor mare with questions who simply stared limply, blinking and flexing her legs. Suddenly she stood bolt upright, eyes wide and a grin plastered onto her muzzle. “Moby!” She exclaimed, turning towards the Marshall who was jumping and stamping up and down in the crate of sugar, grinding it into a fine powder. “Moby, I can't believe its you!” Turning, the iron-grey Stallion puffed his chest out and addressed the bedraggled advisor. “Of course its me, who else would it be grain-brain? How's the King?” Moby resumed stamping the sugar, not expecting an answer. “He's awfully ill, like nothing we've ever seen. The whole of Canterlot's gone loopy since that thing arrived...” “Typical, I'm gone for a couple of days and everyone goes potty!” Taking a grand, final stomp, Moby gathered the white dust into a satchel and marched up to Cookie, “Now, as you may have noticed, the enemy are to our left, right, front and rear. There's no way they can escape! Watch closely deary, this is a little something I picked up in Saddle Arabia when under the command of Captain W.E. Something-or-the-other...” Babbling to himself, he trotted around the clearing scrutinising every tree and gap. Finally he came to rest where two candles stood marking where the path had formerly been. “Sticks! Pack everything up, we're leaving!” “Aye, sir.” Stiff-Stick hurriedly packed up spare candles, packets of food and spare shoes before handing small bundles of biscuits wrapped in canvas to the scouts and mares. Moby was thrusting a hoof into the base of a particularly thin tree, digging a shallow hole before filling it with a hoof-full of sugar-dust from his satchel. “Right then lads, stand back and watch the magic!” Sentinel grunted at the misuse of the word, but stayed curious as to what was going to happen. “Stuffy, boot-lace!” Frowning, Stick untied a lace from one of the spare shoes and tossed it towards the Marshall who neatly lay it so one end just touched the sugar and the other stretched out towards himself. Grabbing a piece of flint from the ground, he swiped it against his hob-nailed boot causing a tiny spark and rapidly turned-tail and bound towards the expectant party. “High ho, fiddly-dum, such is the life of a baker's son-” BOOM. A fountain of flame spurt from the pile of sugar as the dust exploded, blowing a neat whole in the ground and surrounding trees. With incredible energy, Moby galloped back into the now smoking tree-line and threw himself against a thick tree that had been badly damaged by the explosion. With a sharp Creeeak the tree toppled against a few more smaller trunks opening up a narrow path-way, made up of burnt logs and tree-stumps. Sentinel merely gawked at the destructive power harnessed by an old Stallion and some delicious sugar. She followed the pack of Earth ponies that were now fixing supplies to a trap and making their way over to where Moby stood, hopping from hoof to hoof with impatience and, in a very authoritative tone, hailed the herd: “Come on you lot! We've got a lot of wood to clear, and it feels like rain. Horn-bearer, get out front and give me some light!” Sentinel had never appreciated the names given by Earth ponies to the Unicorn race, but this stallion was her only way out of this foetid forest. She galloped to the front of the convoy, Cookie brushing up against her re-assuringly as light began emanating from her horn, filling the gloom with sleek tendrils of light that lay in soft lines across gnarled roots and uninviting branches. The small troupe set off along Moby's makeshift path just as the old war-horse cried out an equally old marching-tune...
ThorseCHAPTER 1: THORSE In the days before Princess Celestia and her sister, back when Griffons roamed across Equestria and passive Dragons roamed across the fish-filled sea, Cloudsdale had been a thriving community of Pegasi from all over Equestria. The elevated haven sat between Canterlot (a large trading town for the Earth ponies) and gentle mountain slopes inhabited and civilised by the Unicorns (known today as the 'Unicorn Range'). These three settlements acted as trade and commute between the three pony races and for one thousand shining years, Central Equestria fell under the mystical magic of friendship and harmony. This was, however, not a unity to last. Between the pages of this tome lies the story of how darkness and evil spread across Equestria and led to the Great Equine Wars. It is in the South where our story begins, beyond the Macintosh Hills, where the 'Badlands' stand today. However, back then the Badlands did not stand as it does today – a desolate plateau where even the bravest pony would dare not roam for fear of being gobbled up and spat out by hideous and foul creatures, their very souls twisted and wrapped by torment and fear. Instead, the badlands fell under a different name: Aching Rock. Deep under the mountain top (for a mountain it was back then), a grim cave full of peculiar bands and charms wormed itself to its very core. It would not be under much stretch of the imagination for one to picture the kind of Stallion that would inhabit such a place – a unicorn with a dark, grey mane and a matted coat that might well have been a dashing shade of green once but through the dirt and sweat it would be difficult to tell. Now what would a unicorn who's intellect matches that of Starswirl the Bearded and who's rogue-like charisma could sway even the most stubborn of mares be doing inside a rank cave hunting cave-bats and mushrooms for food? To answer that question it is required to go even further back into Equestria's history to the reforming of the Great Unicorn Court. Sovereign the Elegant, a beautiful mare if ever there was one, sat upon the gilded throne at the Spiral Palace, a huge masterpiece crafted from Crystal from the desperate northern mountains and glass blown from glittering sand, hauled from the South-Western desert (such a palace no longer exists - although the Crystal Empire was built following similar architecture – but was instead dissolved into 'Vanhoover'). Sovereign had taken to the throne at the end of a generation, her father and his vassals growing too old to rule any longer and across the Unicorn territories castles and holds were left empty (regrettably a race-wide trait in Unicorns is arrogance and pride, and many Unicorns felt an heir was just another way to lose power even faster). It was up to the young new queen to employee a brand new court and among the list was our hermit living up in Aching Rock, except at this time he was a dashing young foal under the name of Thorse. Now Sovereign quickly became captivated by Thorse and, under the delusion of royal blood, believed she could have whatever she wanted – so she asked for his hoof in marriage. However, it was by exploiting her love that Thorse got all his greedy mind could wish for from the queen and would have taken the crown from her very horn had it not been for a rather surprising young hero, a foal with a thick, grey coat and rich, black mane – Cordal*. A musically talented unicorn whose brilliant mind (that could only be described as 'different') tricked and exposed Thorse and led to his sudden banishment and disgrace; but not before he cut Cordal down in an unfair duel and dragged him down to Aching Rock in his expulsion. Under a fresh new court, the unicorns thought themselves safe while Thorse set himself a new challenge with a macabre new goal: revenge. For years he hid in the Macintosh Hills, kidnapping and bending the will of residents in a nearby Earth pony town (known to us as Appleoosa) into carving out Thorse's new residence. For years more the Stallion waited, slowly becoming less and less recognisable as tales spread across the South of Griffons, Dragons and Reindeer relocating from the mountain and inequine noises piercing the night. It would be too hideous to describe the acts that were performed in that hovel, the hideous creations and failed tests that lined the walls, but Thorse's efforts were not in vain. It was on the day of the 'Canterlot Parade'; a mighty festival where ponies from all races and factions joined to buy and sell, to feast and drink and to share their stories from all across Equestria, that an awful and absolute thing befell the peaceful continent. Needless to say, many of the congregating ponies' stories told tale of the dark magic spewing from the South, but were regarded as clop and trollop by the Central Equestrians. It was therefore with great surprise that thousands of pairs of eyes were thrown southwards when an enormous explosion emanated from Aching Rock and, with sheer disbelief, watched as whole boulders of rock hailed down across Canterlot and, indeed, the whole of Equestria (except for the most Northern mountains which were unreachable even by the raw force thrown out of that great mountain). As hooves thundered across the Canterlot square in search for cover, the dust clouds rising from impact craters slowly cleared to be replace with a shadow darker than night itself. Crumpled in a broken heap lay a twisted form – a wing here, a horn there and at what one could only assume to be its head, a large glaring yellow eye. A similar sight could be observed at what was left of Aching Rock, a battered Thorse curled up in the foetus position chuckling sourly to himself and slowly drifting into an infinite sleep. King Bremane Puddinghead (a successor of Chancellor Puddinghead) marched out of Canterlot Castle accompanied by his Royal Guard and stood inspecting the furry comet that had landed in his courtyard. Barking questions at his secretary, Bremane trotted in circles whilst Ponies sprang from hiding to get home and see if they had fallen victim to the 'natural disaster'. However, this disaster was far from natural. Thorse's grotto had been its epicentre and his creation now lay staring into the face of the Earth Pony King – the horrendous Chimera (more tastefully called a Draconequus): Discord. For fifty years, Thorse had sat in the mountain capturing goats, griffons, salamanders, even dragons with the sole purpose of embodying the spirit of chaos – Discord incarnate – and upon griffon shoulders lay a head with a thinning, grey coat and fading black mane. With a deep, groaning sound the beast raised its snout and stared into Bremane's eyes, mimicking his expressions and raising the rest of its body painfully from the ground. Suddenly a misshapen wing flew outward, catching one of the Guards in the cheek and sending him spinning. Instantly seven more Earth Ponies from the Guard threw themselves at Discord, attempting to contain the menace, but were quickly defeated by ferocious claws and dark magic spewing from both of his horns. A blood-curdling roar escaped his mottled jaw as awkward wings carried Discord above Canterlot and West, towards the beautiful nimbus of Cloudsdale. If you had seen what Discord had seen as he floated up, above the peak of Canterlot mountain, you might have seen the upside-down tip of Aching Rock off the East coast of Filly Delphia (the island that has now become Manehatten) and a huge, dark patch just South of Canterlot that seemed to be growing roots: the Everfree Forest. It was in this damaged world that a new era began under chaos and tyranny: the Great Equine Wars. Author's Note Hello everypony! In relation to this story, I would be incredibly grateful if some incredible artist or other could find it in their hearts to make some suitably epic cover-art. If anyone IS interested, a quick PM would be sufficient so I can give you more details. ENJOY! Vespulan
Cause of eventsKing Bremane Puddinghead (a successor of Chancellor Puddinghead) marched out of Canterlot Castle accompanied by his Royal Guard and stood inspecting the furry comet that had landed in his courtyard. Barking questions at his secretary, Bremane trotted in circles whilst Ponies sprang from hiding to get home and see if they had fallen victim to the 'natural disaster'. However, this disaster was far from natural. Thorse's grotto had been its epicentre and his creation now lay staring into the face of the Earth Pony King – the horrendous Chimera (more tastefully called a Draconequus): Discord. For fifty years, Thorse had sat in the mountain capturing goats, griffons, salamanders, even dragons with the sole purpose of embodying the spirit of chaos – Discord incarnate – and upon griffon shoulders lay a head with a thinning, grey coat and fading black mane. With a deep, groaning sound the beast raised its snout and stared into Bremane's eyes, mimicking his expressions and raising the rest of its body painfully from the ground. Suddenly a misshapen wing flew outward, catching one of the Guards in the cheek and sending him spinning. Instantly seven more Earth Ponies from the Guard threw themselves at Discord, attempting to contain the menace, but were quickly defeated by ferocious claws and dark magic spewing from both of his horns. A blood-curdling roar escaped his mottled jaw as awkward wings carried Discord above Canterlot and West, towards the beautiful nimbus of Cloudsdale. If you had seen what Discord had seen as he floated up, above the peak of Canterlot mountain, you might have seen the upside-down tip of Aching Rock off the East coast of Filly Delphia (the island that has now become Manehatten) and a huge, dark patch just South of Canterlot that seemed to be growing roots: the Everfree Forest. It was in this damaged world that a new era began under chaos and tyranny: the Great Equine Wars. “The King is sick in bed, ma'am.” A sturdy guard stood smartly to attention addressing Sharp Cookie, the new court Secretary. “We are doing everything we can but none of our apothecaries have ever seen anything like it.” It was three days after the arrival of Discord, and an inexplicable illness had taken hold of Bremane, Sovereign and General Flood (not related to Commander Hurricane or Private Pansy, elected instead for his hard-line policy on Unicorn relations). Members of all three races had now retreated to their respective holds and the Pegasi particularly stood isolated in Los Pegasus and Cloudsdale. Cookie dismissed the guard and stepped over to a blue coated Unicorn – one of the few not travelling West - with a grey, hooded cloak wrapped around her shoulders. “What do you think Sentinel? If these reports are correct, the King is suffering the same ailment as your Queen.” “And Flood; they flew him down to Los Pegasus yesterday. They even came to us for help,” muttered Sentinel as she stared out across Canterlot. Born into a very strict and well-off family, she had been destined to end up working in Royal affairs, but it had come as a surprise when Sovereign had asked her to be Ambassador in Canterlot. Canterlot! Ever since she had visited it with he parents on one of her mother's business trips she had become enamoured with the mountain-side city: great spires towered towards the fresh, mountain sky and gentle, flowing streams etched their way from springs up-high, cascading into shimmering pools and canals that separated the Canterlot districts expanding from the base of the mountain. She had always thought it would have been best under a Unicorn rule. “Has there been any news from the scouts you sent South?” “Yes, an owl flew in just this morning and I'm afraid its pretty foul. Apparently a small hamlet town was completely destroyed when the rock hit and now dark-branched trees are growing from the ground at an incredible rate. I was planning on taking a look myself, if you wouldn't mind accompanying me...” Cookie turned to Sentinel trying to determine her response, but her expression was nonplussed. When Sentinel had arrived at Canterlot as ambassador, Cookie had always been there making her feel at home. Cookie was the one Earth mare she thought she could really trust. Suddenly a warm grin spread across her face. “Of course! But we'd better hurry. It doesn't sound like a place we want to be when it gets dark.” As the pair walked through Canterlot, it was clear something had got the residents traumatised. Although the market had been re-erected and people still chatted busily throughout the smart streets, it wasn't with the usual Earth Pony vigour – as though a curtain of shadow and doubt had been painted across their minds. Heads turned and glared at Sentinel as she passed through and a foolish teenage filly even approached her and spat at her hooves. Cookie instantly brought her own hoof into the filly's chin, sneering aggressively: “What in Equestria has got into you all? What's she done that deserves such insolence?” Cookie spoke with such authority that the filly's yellow coat turned a deep shade of red, and the gathering crowd which was in danger of becoming a mob humbly retreated, murmuring incomprehensible curse. “Maybe I should have brought my cloak...” Sentinel turned towards the castle but instead felt a reassuring leg around her neck. “N-no, don't do that. I... like you said, we need to get their before dark!” Smart Cookie rushed her words and nudged her companion down a less-populated alleyway. By the position of the sun, Sentinel reckoned it was getting on early afternoon, but her mind was slightly distracted by Cookie – she was acting strangely and whatever had worked up does other Earth Ponies, she figured it might have affected her as well. She mentally prepared herself in case any kind of conflict arose. As the pair hurried South, it became obvious that the old, peaceful town that sprawled across open country, inhabiting thick glades and hugging one of the larger rivers pouring out of Canterlot had been completely destroyed - replaced instead with grim pine-trees that seemed to grow by the minute and threatened to completely obscure the stamped-out path crafted by the scouting party before them. Although the sun had not quite set, inside the sprouting forest it may as well have been midnight. Sentinel furrowed her brow, emitting a bright light from her horn and lighting the way before them. However, the further into the coniferous mess they travelled, the worse the path had been defined – and it didn’t help that branches thrust themselves outwards, as if to embrace the tree opposite them and forming a dense barrier. Cookie drew herself to a halt just in time to avoid poking her eye out on a low-hanging branch, panting heavily following the exhausting run. Taking in a deep breath of foggy air, she realised her vision had become dark and blurry. She shook her head, blinking, but no improvement came. It was now that she realised it wasn't her own vision that had worsened, it was the light being created by Sentinel's magic. “Sentinel...” Her voice echoed throughout the forest and, pivoting on her hooves, she turned just in time to see her companion collapse in a lapis-coloured heap on what remained of their path. “Sentinel!” Cookie rushed towards the unicorn, placing a hoof on her waist and rocking her gently. “Sentinel, wake up! We don't have time for naps.” Squeezing gently on the Unicorn's stomach caused her to groan and stir slightly but, as she did, what was left of her glow flickered out and the two were left in utter darkness.
Unfurled WingsOn the soft, pure-white foundations of Cloudsdale, a sturdy, well-built Pegasus stood gazing out across a drill square lined with ranks of Pegasi performing harsh exercises and battle drills. In three days the amount of recruits posted to the Cloudsdale Home-Guard had increased ten fold, merchants and civilians unable to fight flying south as their homes were turned into Barracks and numerous military structures. Anti-Unicorn propaganda had popped up across the floating city and scouts were sent down to Canterlot and the Spiral Palace to judge defences and relay information to the Marshals and Captains in the Cloudsdale Wing Headquarters. Intelligence personnel restlessly sketched detailed designs and determined the best tactically procedures required to capture or destroy their enemies cities. As he aimlessly stared at a small group of troops sparring with one another, Major Markus of the 12th Royal Wing went through the last few days in his head. It just didn't seem to make any sense to him – one minute everyone was getting on flawlessly, the next some weird beast dropped into Canterlot. Now the three rulers of Equestria were incapacitated and everyone seemed to be blaming each other. He trotted away from the training grounds as the sun began to sink into the Western sea and headed for the Officer's Mess. “We can't do anything until we receive orders from Los Pegasus! General Flood is the only person who can order an attack on another city and you know it.” “General Flood may not be alive tomorrow. The Unicorns are readying their own armies and if they strike before we do, we face the danger of loosing Cloudsdale!” Two high-ranking officers stood arguing with each other as Markus passed through the bar and into a small corridor that led to his quarters. On the hard, compressed cloud that made up his desk lay a small pile of papers – mainly Quarter-Master notices about acquiring new battle-dress and a long-winded invitation to an emergency Officer's Summit to decide upon who should take command should the worst happen to the General. Markus sighed and was about to tuck the papers into a hard-backed leather folder when a small slip of paper fell out between the sheets. He recognised the scrawled writing immediately – it was from his closest and – truthfully – only real friend who had been with one of the few military regiments flying South from Cloudsdale to scout of the Eastern Pegasus borders. In the letter, Windston described the situation and stated he wouldn't be coming back to Cloudsdale for a while as his regiment was being posted near Los Pegasus. This made Markus sad – it meant he'd have to spend the next few months surrounded by red-faced Sergeants and angry propaganda describing how somehow the Unicorns and Earth Ponies were the cause of all their problems. Markus could see he wasn't going to be able to get any sleep so, tucking the letter into a draw, he instead headed out to watch his Company perform some night-based training manoeuvres.
MobySharp Cookie knelt next to her companion, panting hard from the effort of pulling the Unicorn along the soft, muddy ground. She'd decided to simply pull Sentinel in a straight line from where she collapsed, in the direction of the path, but branches and roots were rapidly covering the ground and heavy, stench-filled air as well blocking any slices of Moonlight that might pierce the rotting canopy above her. Cookie had lost hope hours ago, but still held her friends hooves between hers as she hauled them both between the ominous trunks, moss and sap sticking to her already mottled fur. At last her strength left her and, agonising strain, pulled Sentinel into a small knot of roots and rested her own head in a pile of odorous lichen. Heavy eyelids willingly slid shut, taking her from a the dark forest to an even darker sleep. The Earth mare fell unconscious just as a gorse bush next to her head rustled, and an old, wiry Stallion with a silk handkerchief shoved up his nose practically burst into the small clearing and scooped the two mares with surprisingly little effort up onto his shoulders, bounding back into the undergrowth. “...No no no, you're doing it all wrong! Lean forwards, lift your knees and THEN extended your hind legs! Yes, yes, that's more like it!” Sentinel lay just inside on of the make-shift tents pitched by the Earth Pony scouting party, nibbling on a dried-out oatmeal biscuit watching the grey haired Marshall explain to his squad how to buck properly, in an attempt to fend off the thick, threatening branches that were still relentlessly growing out of the forest, but thankfully now at a rather feeble rate. Next to her lay the battered body of the Earth Pony advisor, lightly snoring in a heap of mixed fur and foliage. “Come on you cupcakes, put your hooves into it! I've seen caterpillars snap twigs faster then this! Stiff-Stick, how are the rations?” “Not lookin' good Marshall, not much more candles left and we're down to the last box of extra-sweet sugar lumps.” A young-looking troop nervously addressed his commander, who purposefully strode over to the storage tent and lift the crate of delicious, military-standard sugar cubes onto his back. “Right o' Stiffy, keep an eye on the candles and split up the rest of the oatmeal. Good stuff, rather...” The Marshall trotted off, humming a bizarre marching tune and head towards the shelter where Cookie and Sentinel lay resting. “High-ho-hum my lady, you're awake! I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but we really have no time. Now if you'll excuse me...” Marshall Moby (as that was the veteran's name) reached over a bemused Sentinel's head, hoisted Cookie out into the candle-lit clearing and gave her a fierce head-butt. Sentinel leap to her feet, astounded by the Stallion's actions, “What do you think you're doing?! That's the King's advisor!”. Moby briefly glanced in Sentinel's direction before landing another sharp fore-head slap upon Sharp-Cookie. The mare grunted and her eyes flickered open, a look of complete confusion sweeping across her face. “There we go! Right as rain. Now then Cookie, as I've just told you Unicorn friend, I'd love to answer your questions but we have to get a move on. Canterlot will be expecting us back, and time is a-wasting!” Moby once again charged off, shouting out incomprehensible orders and stamping his feet in a comical fashion. Sharp Cookie shook her head, still not completely aware of... well, anything really. “Cookie! Are you all right? That Stallion just head-butted you! Do you remember what happened? The last thing I rem...” Sentinel urgently bombarded the poor mare with questions who simply stared limply, blinking and flexing her legs. Suddenly she stood bolt upright, eyes wide and a grin plastered onto her muzzle. “Moby!” She exclaimed, turning towards the Marshall who was jumping and stamping up and down in the crate of sugar, grinding it into a fine powder. “Moby, I can't believe its you!” Turning, the iron-grey Stallion puffed his chest out and addressed the bedraggled advisor. “Of course its me, who else would it be grain-brain? How's the King?” Moby resumed stamping the sugar, not expecting an answer. “He's awfully ill, like nothing we've ever seen. The whole of Canterlot's gone loopy since that thing arrived...” “Typical, I'm gone for a couple of days and everyone goes potty!” Taking a grand, final stomp, Moby gathered the white dust into a satchel and marched up to Cookie, “Now, as you may have noticed, the enemy are to our left, right, front and rear. There's no way they can escape! Watch closely deary, this is a little something I picked up in Saddle Arabia when under the command of Captain W.E. Something-or-the-other...” Babbling to himself, he trotted around the clearing scrutinising every tree and gap. Finally he came to rest where two candles stood marking where the path had formerly been. “Sticks! Pack everything up, we're leaving!” “Aye, sir.” Stiff-Stick hurriedly packed up spare candles, packets of food and spare shoes before handing small bundles of biscuits wrapped in canvas to the scouts and mares. Moby was thrusting a hoof into the base of a particularly thin tree, digging a shallow hole before filling it with a hoof-full of sugar-dust from his satchel. “Right then lads, stand back and watch the magic!” Sentinel grunted at the misuse of the word, but stayed curious as to what was going to happen. “Stuffy, boot-lace!” Frowning, Stick untied a lace from one of the spare shoes and tossed it towards the Marshall who neatly lay it so one end just touched the sugar and the other stretched out towards himself. Grabbing a piece of flint from the ground, he swiped it against his hob-nailed boot causing a tiny spark and rapidly turned-tail and bound towards the expectant party. “High ho, fiddly-dum, such is the life of a baker's son-” BOOM. A fountain of flame spurt from the pile of sugar as the dust exploded, blowing a neat whole in the ground and surrounding trees. With incredible energy, Moby galloped back into the now smoking tree-line and threw himself against a thick tree that had been badly damaged by the explosion. With a sharp Creeeak the tree toppled against a few more smaller trunks opening up a narrow path-way, made up of burnt logs and tree-stumps. Sentinel merely gawked at the destructive power harnessed by an old Stallion and some delicious sugar. She followed the pack of Earth ponies that were now fixing supplies to a trap and making their way over to where Moby stood, hopping from hoof to hoof with impatience and, in a very authoritative tone, hailed the herd: “Come on you lot! We've got a lot of wood to clear, and it feels like rain. Horn-bearer, get out front and give me some light!” Sentinel had never appreciated the names given by Earth ponies to the Unicorn race, but this stallion was her only way out of this foetid forest. She galloped to the front of the convoy, Cookie brushing up against her re-assuringly as light began emanating from her horn, filling the gloom with sleek tendrils of light that lay in soft lines across gnarled roots and uninviting branches. The small troupe set off along Moby's makeshift path just as the old war-horse cried out an equally old marching-tune...
