Prompt: Anon and his #deca CPU pony wAIfu enter a pony wasteland survival LARP, posted in /TiM/ (Ongoing)

Note 1: This story was originally posted as an April Fools' oneshot gag under the name 'Shape Your Home, April Fools' Day 2021 Chapter'.

Note 2: It is a side story to 'Shape Your Home', and is set in its custom universe. Knowledge of the main story may help, but should generally not be necessary to understand what is happening here.

Note 3: The story can be considered as extended semi-canon to the main text. The events therein may possibly happen in the main timeline, but have no direct impact on it whatsoever. Therefore, the decision of whether it may be "canon", or not, is left at the individual reader's discretion.

2077 

"Some things change sometimes." - A quote, presumably.

>Equestria's famed mysterious south.
>The well known wide nothing beyond Appleloosa and the deep forsaken jungles that most ponies only know from adventure novels.
>A land of extremes, and none of them convenient.
>The north and west form the last reaches of the buffalo lands. 
>Vast plains of dust and sand.
>So remote that even these mighty creatures barely pay them a visit.
>The nigh insurmountable Macintosh Hills lie to the south.
>Majestic mountain ranges from afar, but scarcely populated at the best of times.
>Except for a few pony expeditions and railway crews, no one ever travels so far away from the heartlands and the green pastures of Equestria.
>And to the east lie the unwelcome badlands.
>An area known to be so barren and hostile that it is almost a blank spot of muddy orange sand and craggy brown rocks on all Equestrian maps.
>Here be dragons, changelings, monsters.
>But no place for ponies.
>Or anyone else who is not either bold, lunatic, or a miscreant.
>Yet here you are.
>A single soul, out in the sweeping somewhere between all three places.
>Where the borders of bad and worse are muddy, and a little bit of everything can go wrong at every second.
>You stride through the dust and rocky plains that stretch beyond the horizon in all directions.
>And only a faint outline of hilly crags visible in the far south is the sole variation you can detect.
>The sun is searing the ground around you.
>And you feel the rays penetrating even the thickness of your heavy hooded cloth cloak.
>It is hot.
>Unpleasantly so.
>Wind blows aplenty in this flat environment.
>However, it does not bring any relief to you.
>The warm air gushes around your face even in spite of you covering most of your head with the hood of your cloak.
>You also wear a pair of strapped goggles to shield your eyes from the merciless elements.
>Though sometimes, this is not enough still.
>For the gusts also carry a fine fog of tiny dust particles that cause you to cough, further impeding your progress.
>A pair of bags is hung around your back.
>Filled with basic survival rations, water, and a handful of sealed scrolls that weigh you down just a little more.
>You would rather not walk through this sorry excuse of a place.
>Unfortunately, the circumstances compel you to.
>Yet you are not a miscreant.
>You are certainly not exceptionally bold either. 
>And you are sure that you are also not mad enough to qualify for this region.
>But despite all that, you have been sent here with a mission.
>Alone, yet not quite.
>Whilst also technically not being here either, strictly speaking.
>Though that is a different topic, involving the remote control of a foreign body. 
>Who has not even feature the exact same number of limbs as you do.
>And since you are not really here to begin with, all the hardships you currently endure are in reality nothing more than mere inconveniences.




>Somewhat pestering and persistent inconveniences, true, but in no way dangerous or threatening to you nonetheless.
>But back to the point.
>For what would be far more of interest to someone who might watch you, if there was an individual from a third party out there to speak of, is to witness how you apparently talk to yourself.
"Remind me, why did I volunteer for this crap again?"
>The aforementioned watcher from afar would never hear the answer to your statement coming from your loving mare companion.
>Because it occurs only in your mind.
>Technically speaking, of course.
>She is real though.
>Absolutely.
>That you know for sure.
>Even though you are the only one who does.
>Complicated, but true.
>"Because this mission is important. And was entrusted to you by the Royal Crown."
>You grunt.
"I swear to God, if Celestia hadn't asked so nicely, I wouldn't spend my time at the ass end of nowhere."
>You hear a chuckle.
>"Anon, really now. This is still Equestria you are talking about."
"Yeah. One of the places we left almost untouched because it fit the map."
>"But it serves its purpose. And besides..."
>Your friendly mare voice companion pauses with light amusement.
>"...Celestia or not, you would have done so anyway."
"Oh, really?"
>"Hmhm. Because I would have asked you instead if she did not."
>And you would always agree to her mission offer too.
>As you know why this mission is as important as it is.
>Still, you are traversing a bad spot, so you have the righteous privilege to complain and voice your displeasure.
"I still don't see why you let me walk though."
>"As preparation for the actual vital part of the operation, Anon."
>Oh right, you forgot to mention.
>You have not even begun the real part of your Royal errant just yet.
>It still gets harder.
>Or more... tricky, to put it carefully.
"So, how much longer until the checkpoint?"
>"About sixty kilometres to the destination in total."
>You stop in your tracks.
"You're fucking with me."
>"No. But I would gladly accept the proposal, if we had the time."
>But that is the last thing you think about at the moment.
"#deca, what the hell! You can't expect me to trek the whole... trek like that! The waterskins run out long before I get even close!"
>"No, you are right. An automaton drone will meet you on the way in a few kilometres. It is stocked with water reserves and drives you almost directly to your goal. If you will, consider this a... stress test in the meantime."
>You sigh after you are hit by the next wave of dust.
"You call it a stress test, huh? Are things really that bad in there as well?"
>"Hm, not... exactly. The conditions are ironically somewhat better, actually. But to say things will get easier once you are inside... would not be honest either."
"Well, sounds like fun."
>"It is. For some."
"Maybe. But I don't have a fucking sand castle tattoo on my ass."
>A second chuckle from your friendly mare.
>"That can be arranged. Do you want one?"




"I don't think so. Just be here with the vehicle before the proxy croaks in action."
>"Will do, Anon."
>You take a moment to look around.
>But except for the southern mountains, there is nothing else but dirt and rocks strewn around the place.
>So with no other option left, you keep on walking to the east.
>In a moderate pace, to balance effort and speed carefully.
>For what seems like hours.
>And all you have with you is the comforting voice in the back of your head, encouraging you to keep it up.
>Eventually, you see something brewing on the horizon, right in front of you.
>You cannot make out any details due to the long distance, but you think you see a brown diffuse blob raging over the ground.
>Something is ruffling lots and lots of dust as it rushes over the plains.
>And it is coming right at you.
"Oh man. Please tell me that's not a sandstorm."
>The answer is a chipper one.
>"It is not. This is your taxi."
>You exhale in relief and keep walking towards said taxi as it simultaneously races to you in record speed as well.
>And as it comes closer, you think you can see the outlines of a driving machine at the head of the emerging cloud.
>But something about it seems wrong.
>This asset does not look like anything you have encountered up until now.
>You have seen countless different types of these things in your life, and even built some of them yourself.
>And they all share some key characteristics which this unit apparently lacks.
>For instance, the machines universally share a common range of grey metal colours, as they are utilitarian more than anything else.
>But the palette of this one is kept in much more earthly colours.
>Mostly warm and subdued tones, barely standing out against the hues around it.
>But perhaps that is the point.
"#deca, when and why did you construct a camouflaged machine?"
>"I slightly revamped one of our ground units shortly before you set out. Do not be surprised though, the camouflage is not what you think it is."
>You take her word for what it is and ask nor further questions.
>For you know better.
>Plus, you will see what she means very soon anyway.
>The vehicle comes closer.
>And oh boy, what the hell is that?
>The general structure is similar to the typical machines you have built and operated with your mare.
>Chain driven base, a spacious rectangular body on top, and several openings for cargo and tools.
>But the usual metal surface is covered in... coloured wood?
>Indeed, the fake surface of a wooden carriage is drafted on top of it.
>Custom paint job included.
>Ranging from red, orange, and yellow.
>A blocky design with many sharp edges, but still finely crafted.
>It covers most of the vehicle's surface, leaving only enough room for some pipes and similar pieces to stick out of the main frame.
>The chains are shoddily "hidden" behind two large wooden wheels on both sides.
>And even though they spin naturally as the thing moves around, every idiot would see through that decoy at point blank range.




>Though it might confuse unaware souls from a longer distance.
>Yet the top of the construct takes the absolute cake.
>The upper surface, likewise covered in wood, is not merely flat; it has several different... gadgets sticking out.
>Like an oversized glass bulb with an electric wire, or two iron funnels that churn out puffs of steam in a weird stable cadence.
>Plus a sealed hatch made of planks that remind you of the side of a barrel.
>The... thing roars, hisses and creaks loudly as it heads towards you.
>And in a moment of dumbfounded astonishment, you simply sit still and watch as it does.
>Never mind that the machine initially does not seem to slow down in the slightest.
>So when it finally begins to brake with a squeal coming from what sounds like the worst purgatory created by the God of engineering, you barely register what is going on.
>The machine comes to a standstill, less than five metres away from you.
>A final long winded whiz signals that it now is safe to touch.
>Probably.
>"And? What do you think?"
"I think you cheated on me."
>"I beg your pardon?"
"That's your child and doesn't look like me at all. So who's the father? Flim or Flam?"
>You hear a stout-hearted laughter.
>"Neither, Anon. You are not wrong though. I did, ahem, took some inspiration from their design. But unlike their craft, this one does not run on magical Unicorn power."
"Does it mash apples?"
>"Well, for the sake of your proxy, I hope not. But I do hope it does pass as something of that nature. To keep prying eyes from watching too closely, you know?"
>A crazy way of hiding something, but okay.
>Especially when ponies are not meant to detect terraformer technology anyway.
>But nevertheless creative.
>And sometimes the best way to become invisible is to get as much attention as possible, whilst letting the details disappear in the cracks beneath the glaring colours.
"So, you want me to get inside this thing?"
>"Hmhm. Despite its look, it is still a standard drone. More or less."
>For a moment you consider to keep trotting the plains on your own.
>"Anon, it has water inside. And protects against the sun."
>Alright, sold.
>You slowly approach the vehicle and climb on its top.
>The wooden hatch opens itself automatically as you get to it.
>You take heart and leap inside.
>The air around you immediately gets cooler by several degrees.
>Not to mention no searing sun and floating dust.
>Artificial light starts to shine the moment you are in, and you hear a thud above you.
>The hatch is sealed once more.
>The interior is far less luxurious than the outer appearance might suggest.
>You are in a rather small cuboid room of about twice the size of your proxy.
>A transparent canister filled with a similarly transparent fluid is stored behind you.
>You estimate that it holds about twenty to twenty-five litres of clear drinking water.
>Enough moisture to water a horse and spray some clouds into the air on the outside for additional ambience.




>It also has a manual tap installed, virtually inviting you to have a taste and refill your waterskins.
>"Go ahead, Anon. The water is fine and good to drink, and the ventilation system keeps the air inside cool and fresh."
>And as you satiate your thirst and refill your reserves, you notice that a digital screen has been embedded into the opposite wall of the room.
>At first you did not register it as such, for it depicts a perfectly generic metal wall inside a driving mix of terraformer technology and a mobile magical apple masher.
>But now that you have spotted the thing, the vision changes and begins to depict the world outside instead.
"Very funny."
>"Just checking if you are aware of your surroundings, Anon. You will need your wits soon if you want to succeed."
>The room rumbles softly and you feel a light shift pulling you backwards.
>Your taxi turns around and drives in the direction from whence it came.
>And you can follow everything in real time from the screen inside.
>The machine rapidly gains speed as it rushes across the mostly even terrain.
>You feel the reverberations around you as your body gets shaken whenever the machine runs over a few rocky passages or bumpy ground.
>Nothing overly severe while you sit, but you may lose your balance if you tried to stand up.
"You know, a belt or something would be nice."
>"No need to be concerned, Anon. I know what I do. Just remain seated and lean back."
>Fine, you can do that.
>But since you are now pretty much restrained until your taxi has delivered you to your destination, you have some time for a final briefing.
"You know, maybe you could tell me more about the area I'm heading to, #deca."
>"Sure. What do you want to know?"
"So far you've only told me about as much as the princess did. I'm supposed to deliver some official scrolls to a remote group of ponies living in a sort of... I don't know, desert survival training group?"
>"Indeed, sort of. Although it is a little more than that. These ponies decided to set up and participate in an unusual project. They call it 'The Wasteland Game'."
>You look at the screen depicting the barren lands you are currently crossing with a rapid speed.
"Yeah, the name fits."
>"The whole endeavour is in equal parts a mixture of sport, contest, and game alike. Anypony can join, although some take it more serious than others."
"How serious are we talking?"
>"A couple of dedicated players truly live their acts to a considerable degree. Some ponies do take up the role of robbers and raiders, but they keep everything within, well, let us call it 'civilised' boundaries."
"Robbers and raiders? That sounds barely encouraging, #deca."
>"Granted, a few minor injuries accidentally happen sometimes. But there is always a medical team of Pegasi orbiting the area to step in if something goes wrong. They also pick up ponies who genuinely pass out in the field, so there is a safety net."




"So the environment isn't as much of a problem as the other players."
>"In a way, drastically speaking. But Anon, please keep in mind that they all are still genuine ponies who simply love a challenge."
"Hm. I'll do my best. But is there any way to spot who plays the good guys and who the bad ones?"
>"That is very simple. The 'bad ones' are usually those who point a gun at you."
>Wait, what?
"A... gun. You're telling me these ponies are armed?"
>"Not really, at least in the sense as you would understand it. The mechanism is similar, but only stocked with harmless foam or soft rubber projectiles which are shot at relatively low velocity. It is still a game, after all."
>You groan.
"So that's what you meant with my wits."
>"Hmhm. Once you enter the area, you will be a legit target just like everypony else."
"Wonderful. Isn't there a rule against shooting a Royal courier?"
>"Not in the wasteland. Everyone is free game at all times. The only ponies exempt from that rule are the medical teams."
>Of course, because they cannot do their job properly when they are under siege by fake bullets or get their gear stolen in the middle of an emergency.
"Hey #deca, can't I just get in as a medic then?"
>"Depends. How are your first aid skills?"
"Basic academy course. You know that. And it only covered humans too. Augmented talking horses weren't a thing back then."
>And you assume they still are not a thing on Earth today.
>"Then I suppose you do not qualify."
>You leave it at that and observe the desert on the screen instead.
>Soon you notice something strange.
>The sky on the horizon begins to turn into an ugly grey blob.
>A vast area is covered by a thick layer of clouds.
>It lays thick and seemingly immovable as it hovers there.
>Highly unusual for a desert area, especially so when it is focused only on a very specific location in the middle of nowhere.
"What does that mean?"
>"It means we are almost there."
>So it is an artificially made layer of clouds, presumably covering the entirety of the game field from what you can see of its size.
"Is there a reason why the clouds blanket everything?"
>"There is. It is a long story though. And it comes with the additional bonus of easily housing a permanent team of quick response medics."
>True.
>An eye in the sky, and quickly available everywhere.
>The carriage drives on. 
>And the landscape quickly darkens the moment you reach the outer rim of the cloud layer.
>The world looks more dreary than before.
>You cannot shake the feeling that you somehow suddenly stumbled upon a dead world after Armageddon.
>Strange.
>But at the same time, you notice that the temperature has dropped significantly to a more temperate level.
>At least something positive, you reckon.




>Soon thereafter, a small structure looms over the horizon.
>Too small for you to identify from this distance.
"#deca, can you zoom in on that thing?"
>"Of course."
>The segment in the dead centre of the screen gets magnified several times over.
>The depiction changes to a small shack with a rectangular layout, about the size of a normal village house.
>A simple door is visible from your angle as well.
>And you can also see a smaller window.
>But due to the dimmed daylight, you fail to detect anything inside.
>Though this is not the most striking thing you notice.
>For a wide mesh wire fence is attached to its walls to the left and right, sprawling across the desert in both directions.
>Far beyond the vision of your camera.
>And this is not any conventional fence either.
>Three times the size of a regular pony.
>And judging from the soft light it emits, it is further reinforced by an energy field which is undoubtedly camouflaged as Unicorn magic.
"This place looks like a prison."
>"It is not, Anon. Participation is entirely voluntary and not binding in any way. Everypony can leave at any time. The fence merely marks the boundaries of the designated game area. Though it is highly inadvisable to depart when no supply carriage is present to travel with."
>No wonder, when there is nothing around but barren land and mountains.
>For dozens of Kilometres.
"How often do the caravans come?"
>"Once a week, with several carts simultaneously visiting each of the four entrances. The suppliers bring new goods and volunteers, and pick up those who want to leave. Transport in both directions is free of charge, and the supplies are scattered in hidden caches throughout the field for the scavengers."
>Well, fortunately you do not have to rely on that scheduled service thanks to your private taxi.
>"We arrive in a few minutes. Is there anything else you want to know?"
"Only one thing. To whom am I supposed to deliver the scrolls anyway? My instructions only state to bring them to the ponies in charge. But who's that supposed to be when everyone's playing survivors in the mud?"
>"To the heads of the respective factions, Anon. There are a couple of those."
"And nobody thought it was necessary to tell me that in advance. Great."
>"Do not worry, Anon. I will be your guide. And besides, there is an aide staffing the post I am bringing you to. He gives introductory speeches and orientation for newcomers. And he is informed about your arrival."
"So he got a scroll via 'magic' express delivery, but no one can divert that information to the players?"
>"Anon, this is an official Royal errand. It is a tradition to have an envoy delivering them in person."
>You sigh as the carriage begins to brake.
>And even the fact that the artificial screeching of the decoy wagon is highly muffled inside your "taxi" does not lift your spirits one bit.
"Right. Let's go then."
>The hatch above you audibly unlocks itself.




>You have to rear to get a hold of the edge. 
>You pull yourself up with a bit of an effort and some supportive flaps of your wings for extra lifting power.
>But as much as you want to rant on how horse bodies are not built for climbing, you have a task to complete.
>So as you stand tall on the painted wagon roof, you eye the construction near you.
>The machine has parked itself less than fifty metres away from the door. 
>And whoever attends to this post must have heard the ruckus, no doubt about it.
>So you hop off the wagon and head straight to the house.
>Once you are halfway there, you hear the machine behind you moving away.
>You turn your head to confirm that the unit is leaving without you.
>"Do not be alarmed, Anon. I ordered the automaton to a nearby maintenance tunnel to recharge its energy reserves and wait in stand-by mode. It will never be far should you need it."
>You take note of her comment and halt at the door.
>One second of delay to take another breath before you push it open and enter.
>The interior is pretty unremarkable.
>You immediately spot a second door on the other side, surely leading to the field.
>A modest wooden counter has been built near the wall to your left.
>And a tan coloured Earth pony stallion with a slightly darker mane stands behind it.
>He is a tad taller than you, fairly well-trained, and you estimate from his build and posture that he is probably middle-aged.
>Certainly not a day above one hundred and twenty years old.
>His mark is hidden behind the counter, and he looks at you intently, not saying a word.
"Uh, hi."
>"Hello there."
>A second of silence as he examines you further.
>"You're the courier, huh? You carriage was loud enough."
"Yep. I was told you were informed of my coming."
>"Uh huh. Scroll fluttered into the house while I was eating. The thing ruined my stew."
>Wonderful first impression then.
>But despite the overt criticism in his tone, you hear no anger in his voice.
>Nevertheless, you see that is still eyeing you closely, and you cannot tell what he is looking for.
>Then he motions you to get to the counter.
>"Come here and drop that cloak of yours."
>You tilt your head.
"Pardon? My cloak?"
>"Of course. Can't get your right size if I don't know what you look like."
"My right size for what?"
>The stallion looks at you in mild confusion.
>"You weren't instructed in detail, I take it?"
"Only the bare bones basics."
>He responds with a facehoof.
>"Oh by Celestia."
"Speaking of, the errand came from her personally. Got on my way immediately afterwards."
>That gets a wordless blink out of him.
>"Oh. Unusual. Never mind then."
>He repeats his motion.
>"Come to the counter. The letter asked me to prepare some items for you. More than what's normally allowed as starter gear, but we'll make an exception for a Royal courier."
>You slowly get closer to him.
"And you need my size..."
>"... so that your stuff doesn't fall off your flanks in action, yes."
>You cannot reason against that.




>So you do as he asks and undo your cloak.
>You put the piece of clothing on the counter to wait for the stallion to do whatever he does next.
>And his eyes are quickly fixed on your wings.
>"Oh, you're a Pegasus. Alright."
>Technically not in the slightest, but he cannot know that.
>So you play along.
"Since the day this horse was made. Does that matter?"
>"Not directly. But here's a piece of advice: Keep them flutterers under your hood if you can."
"Why?"
>"There aren't many Pegasi down on the ground. Most keep to themselves in the sky. Can't take much equipment up there, but it's safer from surprise attacks."
>Except from other fliers, of course.
>"You'll draw some hefty attention if you strut around on the ground with wings. That's the last thing you want to do as a beginner."
"Gonna keep that in mind, thanks."
>"I'll get your equipment now, but one more question in advance though."
"Hm?"
>His forehoof points at your goggles.
>"I see you brought your own pair. Do you want to keep those, or get a standard one?"
"Eh, I'll keep mine. They're pretty sturdy."
>And suited with special glasses to augment your vision with a HUD.
>Amongst other things.
>Another thing you do not mention.
>"Fine. Gimme a minute."
>He lowers his head under the counter and you hear the loud creak of an opening door, followed by descending hoofsteps.
>Looks like the gear is stored in the cellar.
>So you wait and hear the occasional sound of things getting shoved around, paired with thudding and clanking noises.
>Then the stallion emerges five minutes later with a strange gadget in his mouth.
>It looks somewhat similar to a pair of linked saddlebags, yet totally different at the same time.
>For starters, it is made entirely out of metal rather than cloth.
>And two moderately sized casings sit where the pockets would normally be, each with a sharply cut crystal prism pointing forward.
>A third casing with a strangely familiar opening port is set right in the middle of the link between the two casings.
>If the thing is worn as you think it is, this one will be sitting straight on your back.
>You look at it, entirely confused.
"The fuck's this?"
>"Not sure what accent that was, but that's what we call an energy weapon. Usually rare out there in the wastes, but it works entirely without conventional ammo."
>The stallion grins as he draws another item out from beneath the counter.
>A small cuboid "box" you know all too well.
>"Because it runs with a spark battery."
"A what? That's a standard energy cell."
>He shrugs.
>"Doesn't matter how you call it. At the end of the day, it's just a box with a crystal inside that's powered up by Unicorn magic."
>You look at him.
"Uhm, yes. Of course."
>He picks the cell up with his teeth and embeds it within the socket of the saddle.
>It fits perfectly.
>And the prisms flare for the fraction of a second.
>"Works just fine." This is yours for the duration of your trip."
>You shake your head.




"Whoa, wait. You want me to take this to shoot at ponies?"
>"Sure. What's the problem?"
>You stomp on the ground with a forehoof and flare your wings.
"The problem? Are you serious? Ever heard of ray emitters? Or phase guns? These things can burn through steel like it's nothing!"
>Your opponent looks at you for a second, and then burst out in bellowing laughter.
>Though the tan stallion recovers relatively quickly from his fit while you keep standing in your irate pose.
>"No idea what you're talking about, but you've spoken like a true newbie!"
>He sighs with a hint of amusement.
>"Here, look." 
>Then he turns the pointy prisms at himself.
>"These things are harmless."
>The stallion pushes a tiny button on the casing.
>And before you can ask what he is doing, you hear a familiar sizzling sound as the crystals glow in a menacing shade of red.
>Both casings release a shot of energy, hitting the stallion squarely in the chest.
>As a reaction, he lightly twitches once, yet remains standing.
>Whole and unharmed.
>"See? It's fine. You'd have to a hit a pony about a dozen times to singe some hair. But you only need to hit once. Energy weapons are considered to be one hit wonders. That's why they're a rarity."
>You still look in disbelief at him.
"That's not the energy level I'm familiar with. Back when I was trained, you'd have a hole blasted through your chest now."
>And the stallion laughs again, not all alarmed or scared by your words.
>"Hah! Sounds like your Unicorns in the Guard can't handle magic subtlety, eh? Though I've never heard of them trying to deploy anything like this for that matter."
"No, it wasn't in the Royal Guard. It's... never mind, a long story."
>He shrugs again.
>"Couriers and their secrets. Anyway, you also want this."
>He brings forth a third item.
>Metal reinforced bridles with a mouth piece.
"And what's this for?"
>"An attachment for the weapon. You can't reach out with your hooves to push a button on your back when you wear the thing, now can you?"
>He is right.
>And while you would be lying if you claimed that you look forward to don these bridles, it seems like you have to bow to the necessity of it for once.
"I see. Can you help me into it? I've never worn such a thing."
>He nods casually.
>"Eh, not much different than a regular harness, but alright."
>The Earth pony leaves his post at the counter to trot around, halting right next to you.
>As he approaches, you manage to get a swift glance at his mark.
>It is a half emptied toolbox.
"You're a mechanic?"
>"Part time scavenger too. And when nopony else is available, sometimes also clerk as you can see. But when I am on the field, I fix what's there and hunt down the things that aren't."
>Hence half the stuff missing in his mark, you reckon.
>But you assume that he gained his talent long before he found his way to the game.
>Interestingly though, you note that he does not mention for whom he fixes things.




>Somehow, however, you doubt he is just doing this all for himself.
>"And you're from a guard family, huh? Your mark looks like military."
"Uhm, sort of. If the records are right, the symbol predates Equestria's Royal Guard."
>Of course they are, but you are better off by masking your knowledge with a hint of ambiguity.
>The stallion's eyes widen in surprise.
>"It's from before the Unification?"
>And even from before this world was populated.
>Though you leave that little detail out as well.
"The symbol? Yep."
>"Hm, no wonder you ended up as an envoy for the Crown. That's a long history you carry with you."
"Oh, you have no idea."
>Ignoring the clues in your words, he goes on like normal.
>"Gotta say, didn't think so when you came through that door. No offence, but you don't look like the type. Kinda too... average, you know? Not like a skilled member in service of the court."
>He muses some more on his lonesome.
>"Though I guess that's part of your style, hm?"
>Quite the barrage of questions.
>Which you fortunately do not have to answer, as he begins to put the saddled twin energy weapon on your back.
>And despite being made of metal, it feels almost like a regular saddle bag.
>With the only exception that it is worn in front of the wing joints, rather than behind them.
>Naturally, as you would not want to shoot your own wings in the heat of the moment.
>Harmless weaponry or not, that would be a serious design flaw.
>"Now hold still and pay attention, sonny. I won't be there to help you the next time."
>Sonny?
>Heh, he thinks he is older than you.
>Of course he would, given that he does appear so on the surface.
>Nevertheless, the stallion expertly fastens the device to your back and sides.
>With a belt that runs all the way round your barrel.
>And even though you would instinctively like to protest this sudden invasion of private space, you keep your mouth shut and bear it.
>You technically asked for it, after all, and your aide acts entirely professional as he ties the belt down firmly, yet with care.
>Next come the attachment bridles, which he also connects with their respective ports on the proper "saddle".
>Its metal barely touches your head whilst the mouthpiece hangs directly in front of your face.
>You test the movement range of your head with your new gear.
>It is slightly impaired by the reinforced apparel.
>But to your surprise you find out that it somewhere has a joint worked into it which lessens the malus somewhat.
>So as long as you do not permanently hang on the mouthpiece, you can look around nearly as good as under normal circumstances.
>"You can hold the trigger just fine. It only fires when you're biting hard on it. Shots go in a straight line beneath your vision. Keep that in mind if you target something."
>The stallion's speech somewhat reminds you of your first flight and fight lessons at the academy.
>You simply nod once.
"Alright. I think I got the gist."
>"Don't you want to test it first?"




"It's fine. I've done similar things in the past."
>"If you say so. Then there's only two rules I've got to beat you with before I can let you go."
"Okay. Shoot."
>"Rule one: Don't shoot the medical crews and don't touch their stuff. You know, ponies and items with the red cross on them."
>Nothing new so far.
"Uh huh. Got it."
>"There's some other medical stuff up for grabs, but it's marked differently. Look for light yellow containers with three butterflies instead."
"Fluttershy's mark? Why that one?"
>"Don't know. Guess they needed a different symbol to make them stand out. Anyway, rule number two."
>He clears his throat.
>"Apart from the red stuff, everything else inside the playing field is yours if you get it. Beg, borrow or steal, doesn't matter how or from whom you take it. If you down other ponies, you're free to take anything they have with them, minus their goggles. These are off limits for safety reasons. Likewise it's the other way round. Somepony shoots you, you lie down, let things play out. All your stuff is most likely gone and you ought to make do with nothing but your goggles."
>Hold on, you spot a potential problem.
"Including the scrolls?"
>"Everything that isn't your glasses. The rules say nothing about scrolls. You could try to apply your status as an envoy, though I guess you'll have a hard time to make anypony believe you. They'll think it's a ploy."
>You raise your eyebrow, and the stallions sees it.
>"Don't get the wrong idea. The players are all good and honest folks in the real world. Know many of them personally. Behind this fence, though, they're out to get you."
"That's... disadvantageous."
>"Welcome to the survival game. Besides, don't tell me you weren't trained for tricky jobs as a courier of the realm."
"Ahem, let's just say I've seen worse things than ponies flinging dud shots at me."
>"See, should be easy for you. You're good to go then."
>He motions at the second door with a grin that reminds you of a merchant who is just about to cajole you into a deal that is carefully designed to rip you off.
>But from what you can tell, he has been completely honest with you.
>Still, you think he has not told you everything.
>You slowly walk towards the exit.
>"Maybe I'll see you on the field if you stay a while. My relief is due tomorrow, and I can't wait to get back to my group."
>His group?
>Ah, so there is the catch.
>One catch, at least.
>No matter what you do, your time of striding across the arena unnoticed is limited.
>Because if you assess him correctly, he will talk about you immediately when he gets to his friends.
>So as far as you are concerned, his Cutie Mark could also be an open can of spilled beans.
>Hm crap, should have considered this when you first got into that house.
>Yet you do not take that personally.
>It is part of the game, after all.
"Thanks for the warning, I guess. What's your name, by the way?"




>And just as if he had waited for that question, the stallion strikes an upright pose to present himself from his best side.
>"Glad that you ask! Scrap Mender, at your service. And I hope you prove yourself worthy out there. I've always wanted to face somepony of note from the outside."
>His grin widens.
>"And who would be better to test your mettle against than a real envoy guarding his secret messages?"
>Oh brother, he is one of these guys.
>Those where one can never quite tell whether they are either genuine hotshots or plain hot wind bags with an overly confident demeanour.
>But judging from your conversation and his actions so far, you tend towards classifying him as a veteran player.
>Plus, he is a legit instructor, so he should not be a dunce.
>Well, at least he told you beforehand what to expect of him.
>A classy move, considering that he sees a target in you.
>On the negative side, you already found a rival before you have even entered the scene.
>Remarkable, really.
>"And yours?"
"Oh, call me Anon."
>"Anon? Anon and?"
"Just Anon."
>"Huh, unusual name. Does it have a special meaning?"
>You look at Scrap Mender and mirror his grin.
"Royal Courier secret."
>Perhaps a more shifty tone than you usually prefer, but you figure that you can act more cocky than normal, especially when your conversation partner has already declared himself your enemy.
>And with that, you take your cloak, open the door, and take your first step on the mud of the game field.
>The soil here is more moist and strangely less eroded than the desert, but not precisely comfortable either.
>You see clear signs of steady rainfall, indicating that the weather here can take a turn for the worse as well, even though it might not rain at the moment.
>Which also means Pegasi are operating everywhere above the field.
>Perhaps even using their advantage to watch the events from their holdouts in the sky.
>This is at least what you would do.
>Okay, some first clues.
>Useful to have, but you need more.
>So you take a long and hard look around.
>Despite the reduced light and heightened humidity, the place is about as barren as the nothingness under the hot baking sun.
>Flat mud planes and rocks as far as the eye can see, with the occasional faux dead tree set up as well.
>Some smaller hills and pits are scattered across the otherwise unremarkable surface, and they too seem to have no real significance going for them other than contributing to the gloomy mood.
>And in the far distance, near the very cusp of your vision, you detect the outlines of some smaller buildings.
>But not a single other pony nearby.
>So you do the only thing you can do.
>You carefully step through the mud, heading towards the remote buildings.
>You keep your pace deliberately slow to better eye your environment while you move, looking for signs of activity and "danger".




>Your core training might have been heavily based on space flight and combat tactics, but the same strategic basics apply here as well.
>Reconnaissance is key, knowledge is life.
>When forced to operate in unknown, uncharted territory, keep your own presence low if possible.
>Doubly so when you have to assume that your opponents know the perimeter better than you.
>For the one who spots his target first is automatically in a better position.
>So you do not want to be the one who gets found if you can avoid it.
>And as you mentally repeat these mantras in your head, you try to adapt them to your current situation.
>First, you activate the augmented HUD of the goggles.
>It automatically provides your vision with a tactical overview of your status, a map of your perimeter, and can be adjusted with several additional pieces of information if needed.
>And while it was originally designed for handling a space ship, it works just as well on a cybernetic proxy stallion with wings.
>Interestingly, it has also updated your weapon loadout without you giving it any input.
>A function you would have never expected to use on a Pegasus.
>You mentally talk to your mare companion, not daring to speak up as you cannot know whether someone hears you or not.
>That was your doing, wasn't it?
>A small screen of #deca.mare appears in the lower right corner of your HUD, showing her seated on your command deck.
>"Indeed. I figured  it might benefit you."
>You check the weapon screen.
>Twin linked energy rifle, fifty-nine out of sixty shots.
>Hm, decent for the start, but you should look for more reserves before you actually have to use them.
>"You do not need to, Anon. The... 'enchantment' of the energy cell is designed to recharge in the sunlight."
>Alright, and when does the sun shine down here?
>"Never."
>What?
>"The Pegasi keep the clouds shut at all times. They also possess, by the way, the proportionally largest amount of these weapons too."
>What a surprise, when they are the only ones who can replenish their stock without changing the "battery".
>Wonderful, the guy did rip me off.
>"Not really. Mender was honest with you through and through, and the gear he gave you is above average. He just... came to omit a few details."
>Like me being forced to break the clouds for a recharge?
>Yeah, also providing the inevitably best opportunity to be seen far and wide.
>"He never said he made things easy for you."
>And why didn't you say anything?
>"Because you were doing great without my help."
>You mean I got played.
>"I would not say that. Merely introduced to what the wasteland has in store."
>You cannot suppress a stifled sigh.
>I'm starting to think you hurt your proxy deliberately on the way back from the north so that I now get to travel here alone as it recovers.
>"No, that mishap was not calculated. But I do indeed think the mission might possibly expand your tastes a little bit. You were so highly uninterested in the game since the day it was proposed."




>Because I have no wish to prance in the dirt and scour for dregs in a simulated end-times playfield.
>It might be something for adventurous ponies, but it's not something you'd want to experience on Earth.
>Or any of the colonies for that matter.
>"But it is the exception in Equestria, And in a safe environment to boot. It is not like anypony is in actual danger here."
>Yes, and if they want to challenge themselves, let them.
>But it's not for me.
>"At least give it a fair chance."
>Heh, not like there is any other option now.
>"It is not as bad as you think. You have more advantages than any other pony. Plus, you have me."
>Yeah, about that.
>Can you give me some advice where to go?
>"Hmhm. The direction you have chosen is good."
>At least something.
>"With your current speed it will take you to your first hostile encounter in half an hour."
>You halt without hesitation.
"Come again?"
>"There is a group of ponies waiting between the entry post and the small derelict hamlet you are heading to."
>Hm, directly on a line with the starting point and the first visible site of interest.
"It's a newbie trap, isn't it."
>"You could call it that, yes."
"And going there is good why? I'd walk straight into an ambush!"
>"Two reasons. Because you have realistic odds to win. And because you are here to catch the attention of the factions. You cannot do that if you sneak in the shadows."
>You sit down and rub your temples.
"So you're saying I should ring the bell right off the bat."
>"Consider this. The faster you get the attention of everypony, the quicker you can deliver the messages. And the sooner we can put this trip behind us. So if you want to leave as quickly as possible, this is the strategy to go for."
>To your chagrin, you must admit that this argument is valid.
>Provided you do not bungle the number and get robbed blind.
>In that case you would spend even more time in here.
>Though you would at least have your all-seeing companion with you.
>She can tell you where the documents are going.
>And if the ponies really are as decent as Mender made them out to be, they should at least have the good graces to treat a piece of parchment that was personally signed by Princess Celestia herself with some respect.
>With a sigh, you concur.
"Fine. I do it."
>You get up to resume your path to the hamlet.
>And as you prepare to enter combat in less than an hour, you use to time to calibrate your HUD.
>#deca.mare is right.
>The more of a ruckus you cause, the faster you will have someone listen to you eventually.
>So you stride on, with your visor set to combat mode, and your weapon primed and ready.
>You have done this countless times before; your vessel now only has a more equine shape than usual.
>You march and march, until your "radar" picks up an enemy signature nearby.
>Its shape is highlighted in your vision and framed by a crimson rectangle.
>Even from this distance, you can spot a pointy extension on the head of the target.




>And likewise do you see a red triangle on your perimeter map.
>As you instinctively lay low, you mentally order your visor to lock onto the signature, displaying its exact distance in the process.
>One and a half kilometre.
>The effective range of your gun on the other hand ends after a couple of hundreds.
>In other words, you have to get closer either way.
>The Unicorn appears to be unmoving and stationary, so you wager that you were not seen yet.
>Fine, a one on one as it seems.
>Doable indeed.
>Now what do you do?
>Do you risk an open confrontation, or do you try to sneak?
>"I suggest a direct approach."
>#deca?
>"Go on. Walk as if you have seen nothing."
>Are you serious?
>"Yes. Walk straight into it. Show no sign of alarm and act normal."
>Can you tell me why?
>"For you to learn something. And do not worry, I will help you to win."
>And against every strategic wisdom that you have ever learned, you heed her seemingly idiotic proposal.
>But before you walk on, you fumble with the hood of your cloak, pulling it a little closer over your face to hide the mouthpiece of your energy weapon inside the cloth.
>If the pony before you really expects to deal with bloody beginners, it may give you an edge.
>Then you trot on.
>You move slowly and try to act with some with care, attempting to resemble the notion of not sensing any problem.
>Yet you feel the heartbeat ramping up in your chest, for you treat it like a genuine combat situation.
>One kilometre. 
>And two additional rectangles pop up on the perimeter, slightly behind the triangle.
>But no movement from any of them.
>Strange, something should have happened by now.
>At least a twitch or something.
>You activate the video enhancement module of your goggles to zoom in on your target.
>And there is nothing.
>The silhouettes and marks are still visible, both on the minimap and your actual field of vision.
>Yet your natural sight sees nothing.
>Decoys?
>"No. There are real ponies, exactly where I marked them."
>So they are invisible.
>"Precisely. A limited invisibility spell. Active for as long as the affected individual does not move."
>Useful to know.
>Is the Unicorn armed?
>"Yes, but the gun is holstered."
>Which means no attack without revelation first.
>Good.
>What about the other two?
>"They prove less of a threat if you play your cards right."
>You speak in riddles.
>"I trust in your faculties."
>Well, thank you.
>Seven hundred and fifty.
>No reaction.
>Five hundred.
>Unchanged.
>The same at two hundred fifty.
>By now you are well within an optimal firing range, but you keep your saddle cold for the moment.
>One hundred.
>Come on, by now they must have seen something.
>There is no way for the Unicorn to miss you.
>Still, the pony stands still like a statue, same as the other two.
>You subtly cough once.
>Nothing.
>That confirms it; they hold still on purpose, fully knowing what they are doing.
>"Closer. No hesitation."




>Oh man, #deca.mare is steering you right into the inevitable kerfuffle.
>Anyway, into the fray it is.
>You head straight for the signature.
>Fifty.
>You walk further.
>If none of the three does anything, you will bump squarely into the Unicorn.
>Twenty five.
>Everything except your mare tells you to shoot and bolt.
>But you listen to her advice.
>Over the sound of your own proxy heartbeat.
>At ten metres, you hear a faint poof tone right ahead of you.
>"Hey there, hoodie."
>A mare has appeared out of thin air, or so you shall believe.
>In your alarmed state, you immediately find the strength to do a short leap backwards, but refrain from using your wings.
>Two can play the hiding game.
>You hastily examine her.
>Dim orange coat and an unkempt, light brown mane.
>Like you, she wears a pair of goggles.
>Slightly different in design, but function wise just as good.
>Minus the augments, of course.
>The rest of her apparel is what strikes you as off-putting.
>A thick black jacket covers her chest and half of her barrel.
>It looks like it is made out of conventional leather, but you know this is impossible.
>Leather is not a commodity in all of Equestria.
>So whatever the stuff is instead, it has been crafted very well to resemble the real deal.
>And for a regular inexperienced player, the implications of watching a pony wear the facsimile of flayed skin must be staggering.
>Hell, it even works on you to a degree.
>It just looks plain wrong.
>The rest of her gear is not much better.
>Custom-made buckled metal pads cover all four upper and lower legs.
>And you think you have also briefly seen two larger metal plates strapped to her flanks.
>Leaving only her head and hooves exposed, and maybe her rear.
>Though you highly doubt she has the good graces to turn around for you to check this theory, much less allow you to take a shot at it.
>No, that sounds inopportune, and you hardly have the time for silly thoughts like this.
>Regardless, you figure these protections are meant to shield from incoming fire, or at least have a chance to mitigate the imaginary effect of the impact.
>Which you apparently do not have to worry about, thanks to your rare gear.
>Still, an armour might be something.
>The Unicorn smiles confidently as she looks you in the eyes.
>She seems to enjoy your mild befuddlement.
>"Pretty reflexes. You are fast."
>Her horn flares up, and you quickly pay full attention at what she is doing.
>"Won't matter though."
>An object floats into the air, coming from somewhere behind her.
>Already aiming at you.
>A... hand gun, as it seems?
>The casing and mechanism do resemble the design. 
>But it has a wide mouthpiece attached to the side rather than a trigger beneath it.
>A tricky choice.
>Probably suitable for propelling some play ammunition with "Unicorn magic".
>But in the case of a proper gun, you would certainly not want to have a detonation this close to your face.
>Especially so when you hold it in your teeth.
>Who would do that?




>Though your Unicorn opponent does not care about any of this.
>For her it is only an object in her levitating grip as she plays her role.
>Cheating horn head.
>"We're gonna relieve you of some things either way."
>They make no song and dance out of their intention.
>And you try to play the game.
"'We'?"
>Her grin persists as she kicks the ground with a rear hoof.
>Twice.
>"Yes, sweetheart. We."
>Behind her, two small "mounds" begin to rise and shed some dirt.
>Revealing two burly Earth pony stallions.
>Unlike their Unicorn friend, these two wear no special clothing apart from their goggles.
>Yet they do not need any to be intimidating; their imposing muscular stature does the job just as well.
>Big Macintosh level, if not even stronger.
>Their colourful bright coats and manes are thoroughly covered and dimmed by dust and soil.
>Presumably as a method of camouflage.
>But now that their cover is blown, they start to step towards you in a menacing gait.
>Slow steps, each with an impact you can almost feel from dozens of metres away.
>And with an expression that screams bloody murder.
>One carries a wooden pole in his mouth and the other bears a massive... squeaky hammer?
>Alright, you should keep your distance to these two.
>For you do not want to enact a scene of getting your spine shattered by a plank of wood to the slapstick sounds of a clown cart or something.
>Your dignity alone forbids this.
>But God damn, #deca.
>Is that your vision of even odds?
>But where untrained ponies might lose their temper and panic completely, you do not.
>You instinctually push your thundering heart into the back of your mind and keep your wits.
>The mare notices none of that, for she overtly feels in control of the situation.
>And this could turn into her crucial mistake.
>"Now be a good colt and drop your goodies. I wouldn't want to shoot a cute little whelp like you in the face."
>Her magic aura does something to the weapon to audibly to cock it.
>"And you don't wanna play with'em either."
>She tilts her head to the side for a moment, trying to divert your attention to the other two.
>But knowing that they do not pose the biggest threat to you at the moment, you ignore her trick.
>"Heh, disciplined too. You were a real golden colt at school, weren't you?"
>That does it.
>You will not get beaten by an upstart like this.
>And so you slightly increase your pressure on the mouthpiece, considering to attack first.
>But you wonder whether the energy hits her before she can retaliate.
>Even if you knock each other out, she wins.
>Strength in numbers.
>The mare lightly shakes the weapon in her grip.
>"Ah ah ah. Don't try that candlestick. I'm faster."
>Crap, she knows about the energy weapon.
>But what gave it away?
>You concealed the thing beneath your cloak, including harness and mouthpiece.
>Impossible, she cannot have seen it.




>But what do you do now without an ace up your sleeve?
>A certain mare on a chair chimes in.
>"Anon, do you remember what happened during your first flying lesson with the proxy?"
>Yes, the faceplant in the grass.
>Utterly useless memory in this situation.
>Unless...
>You look to the ground.
>Mud, loose earth, and some dust.
>Could work.
>But you have to test something first.
>Risky, yet you have no viable alternative.
>You sigh.
"Fine. I yield. What do you want?"
>"Hm, I don't know, how about everything? A friendly donation to a friend for not shooting you?"
>How very modest of her.
>You let go off your mouthpiece and reveal it to her.
>No point in hiding it now.
"Alright. I take my cloak off now. Please don't shoot. Earth Ponies like me can't rely on fancy magic like you."
>She shrugs.
>"Whatever. But no funny stuff."
>The mare wiggles her gun, trying to be menacing.
>But she bought it.
>Interesting.
>You keep standing and slowly raise a foreleg, easy for her to see.
>You pull down the hood and undo the bands of your cloak, but you keep the loosened cover on your back yet.
"That invisibility thing you pulled was really clever."
>You slightly bend your body, feigning to let the cloak slide to the ground.
>Though your charming words leave her fairly unimpressed.
>Does not matter, as long as she bothers to you listen to you at all.
>You keep talking.
"How did you do it?"
>"Magic. You wouldn't understand that."
>Wrong, bandit mare.
"Do you get to use it often?"
>You subtly spread your wings halfway.
>She does not notice your movements beneath the cover as she gets lightly agitated by your apparently silly questions.
>"That's none of your business."
"Do you catch many ponies like me? I'm sure you meet a lot."
>The Unicorn rolls her eyes.
>This is the opening you have waited for.
>The very moment you see her gaze shifting away from you, you spread your wings in full, rear up, and  flap once.
>With as much force as you can muster.
>The air resistance, paired with the sheer blow you create, is strong enough to let you stagger one step backwards.
>Your cloak is sent flying somewhere in the heat of the moment.
>More importantly though, you hit both the mare and the ground before you hard with a sudden gale.
>Sending not only a strong wind, but also a nasty mix of dirt, dust, and stones towards the face of your opponent.
>And while the goggles protect her eyes and prevent her from becoming blinded, the impromptu delivery of soil raining down on her nuzzle and entering her nostrils are sufficient to breaks her focus.
>In her reflex reaction, she swings her weapon wildly as she stumbles around, sending a volley of haywire shots into the environment in the process.
>Hitting dirt, stones, and a tree.
>But not you.
>And this is all that matters.
>You waste no time.




>Right after you gain your footing, you crouch lightly to reduce your chance of getting hit by stray shots, bite down on your mouthpiece, and send three energy charges her way in retaliation.
>All three hit home.
>Two charges hammer her chest, one strikes her chin.
>Followed by a loud yelp of surprise.
>The mare freezes, slowly keels over, and falls unceremoniously into the mud.
>Her gun clatters to the nearby ground as her magic touch fades out.
>Watching the mare's prone form lying suddenly still makes you worry that you might have seriously harmed her.
>At least for a split second.
>That is until you hear her annoyed snorts as she tries to free her respiratory system of pesky dust while she plays dead.
>No, she is fine.
>Albeit probably furious beyond description.
>Not time to wonder about that though.
>You are still in combat.
>The other two ponies momentarily freeze in confusion, not processing in real time how their group mate lost the upper hand and got taken out of the equation this quickly.
>However, this grace period is very brief.
>As they realise their situation, they do the only feasible thing they can do.
>Both charge you at once, pressing the singular advantage they have.
>They try to force you into a close-up brawl.
>You do not have the time to down them both.
>One you could get, but the other would then smash into your side and ram you to the floor.
>And witnessing the towering shape of one of the two looming above you is the last thing you want to experience.
>Tactical retreat it is then.
>Without hesitation, you flap your wings to get off the ground and gain height.
>You manage to rise quickly, but the two do not give up.
>Galloping side by side, they still try to get you.
>And a few metres away from the spot you are hovering over, they leap as they swing their tools.
>The hammer stallion barely misses you.
>Whereas the longer wooden pole grazes the hair of your tail.
>Does that count as hit?
>"No. Manes and tails do not count, unless the body is hit properly too. You are still in the game."
>Good, but still way too close a call than what you would be comfortable with.
>Especially for your first tussle in the ring.
>You hastily bring yourself into a stable forward trajectory and start to fly in a wide circle.
>You observe the two from your vantage point.
>Both are looking at you with sharp, confrontational expressions.
>And the hammer stallion stands still whilst the pole bearer trots slowly in one direction.
>At first you do not understand what he is doing.
>But your guardian angel helps you out.
>"Search the ground, Anon."
>So you do.
>Then you spot the dropped weapon.
>He is walking directly towards it.
>Ah, he thinks you do notice his attempt.
>And maybe he would have been right under other circumstances.
>But it will be the second mistake made today.




>You keep circling the field and allow him to proceed without interruption.
>Let him think that you are unaware while you pretend to watch the second Earth pony instead.
>Once he has reached the gun, though, you see your chance.
>He drops his pole to reach for the upgrade.
>And you respond with a sharp turn into a rapid dive, take aim, and plant to charges into his barrel.
>An easy shot to make for a trained fighter pilot, space or no space.
>He slumps to the side with no comment, burying the item of his desire underneath him as he falls.
>Well, that means the last one has no way to get it, as he would be far too exposed for far too long while trying.
>"This was not his plan anyway, Anon."
>What?
>You look at the last pony standing.
>And witness a gaily coloured squeaky hammer sailing your way with a stable rotation.
>The mad guy has actually thrown his weapon at you.
"Oh shit!"
>You steer for another sharp turn to the side to avoid the flying insult.
>Whilst still in the hefty dive, unfortunately.
>And indeed, you manage to dodge it.
>However, you lose control of your flight as you violently sway in the air.
>You fail to stabilise your path fast enough and crash a few dozen metres further down the line.
>And even before the ringing in your ears fades, you hear trampling sounds combined with a determined shout.
>Coming closer, and worryingly fast at that.
>No explanation needed.
>You ignore all possible bruises and scratches, and simply focus on getting up.
>You face the noise and see the stallion storming towards you.
>A thunderous rumbling follows his steps.
>Once you stand properly, you notice that the two of you are already less than ten metres apart from each other.
>Without the time to take aim or think ahead, you dispense four more spontaneous charges to fell the attacker.
>Two go awry, but the other half makes contact, hitting a leg and the side of his neck.
>He registers his "injuries" and plays the part of getting hit.
>But to your horror you have to realise that he cannot possible stop in time.
>So it comes as it has to come.
>The muscular Earth pony hits you at a considerable speed.
>A frontal body check ensues, knocking you clean off the ground, and the air out of your lungs.
>And even worse, you land on your back whilst your opponent collapses right on top of you, effectively pinning you to the ground.
>Of course, he holds still.
>And no sign of grace by rolling to the side or something.
>A last act of defiance, no doubt.
>Though as rough as the last couple of seconds were, you think your proxy has suffered no major injuries from the stunts.
>Still, you begin to feel slightly claustrophobic under several hundred kilograms of involuntary extra baggage.
>Breathing too has become more of a chore.
>But thanks to the reinforced augments inside your proxy, it takes more than that to deal significant damage to your vital organs.
>#deca.mare claps her forehooves in the small screen at the edge of your vision.




>"Congratulations, Anon. You are victorious."
>But it sure as hell does not feel like it.
>So in the immediate aftermath of the combat, you try to use your limited agency to shove the Earth pony away.
>And fail miserably.
>You grunt and tap against his shoulder blade.
"Damn it you hammered draft horse, get off! I shot you beforehand!"
>Much to your surprise, he gives an answer.
>"Dead ponies don't move, featherbrain."
>Arse.
>And if it were not for the fact that he tries to play "dead" with his two friends, you bet they would all cackle at your predicament.
"Oh yeah?"
>"Yeah."
"Then shut up. They don't talk either."
>He actually obeys.
>Which is nice, but does not improve your situation in the slightest.
>Looks like you have to do it the cumbersome way.
>You begin to slowly shift and wiggle yourself to freedom.
>A long and straining exercise, but you have no choice.
>And the energy cell pressing itself against your back sure does not help either.
>You wish you could use your hands for this.
>But they float in stable orbit around the planet, together with the rest of you.
>So you grin and bear it.
>More emphasis on bearing than grinning though.
>After straining minutes that felt like hours to you, you finally get out of your impromptu horse prison.
>You stand up to inspect the state of your proxy.
>But apart from a few insignificant grazes and many dark splotches of muddy coat, the body looks fine.
>Wings?
>Somewhat ruffled feathers, but to a tolerable degree.
>You check the state of your energy weapon via the HUD.
>No damage detected.
>Ammo: Fifty... out of sixty?
>You have spent a sixth of your stock in one engagement?
>Not a good rate at all.
>#deca.mare waves at you for your attention.
>Yes?
>"Now that you are free, do you want to know how much experience you have earned for defeating your enemies?"
>Experience?
>What are you talking about?
>"You get experience points for successful actions. Earn enough, and you ascend a level."
>For real now?
>"Sure. I am not joking."
>And what does that do?
>"A level determines what kind of gear you are allowed take into the game if you enter it for the first time in a cycle. Nothing too imbalanced, mind you, just tad more or better quality gear than usual. To serve as a little incentive for really dedicated players."
>Like a laser saddle instead of a handgun?
>"For instance, yes. Other than that it is only good for pure bragging rights. Though a high level usually indicates that the pony in question is a seasoned adversary."
>So Mender's comment on beginner gear was at least two-fold.
>But it also means you gain no benefit from experience until the next cycle.
>When does a new cycle start?
>"At the first of each month. Everypony leaves the field on that day to make way for maintenance and repair teams. Perfect time to reorganise and maybe change factions."
>Yeah, no.
>Scratch that then.
>You are not going to stay here for this long.




>"As you wish. I will keep score regardless. And so do the scoring judges overhead."
>Huh?
>"One judge accompanies every med team that patrols the field from above. They keep records of all engagements."
>Neat, but irrelevant for you nevertheless.
>What now?
>"Well, since you are the winner, you are free to take prizes. The three have to keep lying down until you have looted what you want and left the vicinity."
>Anything?
>"Anything. New weapon, new armour, new ammunition. They oblige to honour the rule."
>You look at the three.
>The stallions have nothing on them you could take, apart from their "tools".
>You are not much of a melee man though.
>And the mare, well, you are not exactly fond of stripping her.
>That would be... inappropriate to say the least.
>"This happens all the time around here. There is nothing special to it from their point of view."
>You silently imagine the implications.
>And you eventually ponder whether the pregnancy rate inside the field is exponentially higher than on the rest of the planet.
>"Anon, seriously. Ponies have standards. Do you really think this is something they would do? Or even consider?"
>Well, no.
>You are still inclined to refuse the opportunity to get some boo... to plunder.
>Besides, she does not have the right size for you anyway.
>"Your decision. Though I suggest you at least take a look."
>Why?
>"Because they might take your refusal with discontent and perceive your decision as scorn. By 'browsing the wares', as they call it, you show that they were worthy opponents."
>Where does this stupid rule come from?
>"It is not a rule, but a codex they play by."
>You blink.
>#deca, these ponies are crazy.
>"No. They just take pride in their craft."
>Amounts to the same thing from your perspective.
>Reluctantly, and with no real will of your own, you approach the lying mare and examine her armour in detail.
>Your first glance was correct; she does wear some additional strapped plates over her flanks.
>And as luck would have it, there is a small pouch attached to it as well.
>You emit a silent sigh of relief, as you now have a legit reason to refrain from undressing her.
>So you get a hold of the thing and pry it open.
>A small number of loose rubber pellets fall to the ground and bounce in all directions.
"Ammo."
>That could be useful.
>But the respective weapon to it lies under the pole horse.
>You look at the stallion.
>No chance of moving him to grab the thing unless he moves himself.
>Which you cannot achieve without playing really, really dirty.
>But not only is that completely against your style, it would also without a shadow of a doubt be below any pony standard.
>Not to mention painful and potentially hazardous.
>And despite the taunting and tackling, you doubt any of the three would have even considered exerting such lowly measures on you if they would have been the winners instead.
>It is still a "friendly" game at the end of the day.
>So strike that.
>Back to the pouch.




>You unearth a box.
>Which immediately arouses your curiosity.
>After a moment of fumbling with the thing, you manage to unseal it.
>Only to find a disappointing surprise inside.
"Crown caps? In a box? Are you serious?"
>Nonsense.
>You drop the box right next to the Unicorn, accompanied by the clattering sound of dozens of little caps.
>The last object you find is a red apple.
>A conventional, almost unremarkable thing in the more idyllic places of Equestria.
>But here it shines like a gem in between the grey and brown hues of the wastes.
>And doubly so in your eyes, as you have lived a true life of relative austerity in your past.
>This is a memory of many centuries ago, but one you will never forget.
>So you take the apple and hold it close to your face.
>You cherish its appeal, smell it, and look at it long and hard. 
>And you use your HUD to scan it for possible poisons before you take the first bite.
>Just in case.
>You take your time to eat the fruit and enjoy every morsel to the fullest.
>Maybe a little irreverent in the presence of the others, but you cannot help it.
>It just tastes that good.
>Plus, the whole situation was their fault to begin with.
>They wanted to fight a newblood, and a fight is what they got.
>And as you process the events of the confrontation while you mentally debrief yourself, you come back to the question of how the hell the Unicorn knew about your gear.
>There was literally no way for her to know this from simply looking at you.
>The reason lies somewhere else.
>#deca, does the Unicorn possess a spell to detect energy signatures?
>"No, Anon. She does not."
>Initially, you tend to consider asking her outright for the correct answer, though you think it might be better if you challenge your own wits first.
>You must keep thinking quickly, as it was demonstrated to you just mere minutes ago.
>So how could they have known this?
>Where was the chink in your cover?
>Or... what if the mistake was not yours to begin with?
>In a moment of enlightened suspicion, you turn into the direction you came from.
>The entry post is only a small distant dot in the plains, but that is enough for you.
>Video enhancement, maximum factor.
>The vision in your goggles zooms in.
>And zooms.
>Then zooms some more.
>Until you see the house as if you were standing only a few metres away from it.
>Something happens at the window, so you focus on this opening.
>And you are greeted by the lenses of binoculars, looking straight at you in turn.
>There is the weak link in your defence.
>One could say the rivets were not mended properly to begin with.
>Alright, that you take as a personal insult.
"You motherfucker! This is your group!"
>One of the downed stallions fails to suppress a faint laugh as he hears your outrage, but you ignore him.
>And even though you doubt Scrap Mender can hear your cussing, he slowly lowers the binoculars and stares at you in utter puzzlement.




>Somehow you think he knows you can see him, and you are wholly willing to let him feel it in full.
>This is the least you can do to repay him for ratting you out like this.
>Sure, he was only loyal to his group, but this is no excuse.
>For he must consider that your allegiance to the Crown must be just as strong.
>And unlike this game, the politics beyond the fence have way more gravitas than anything in here.
>So in a moment of personal ire, you put on an evil grin that rivals the Grim Reaper himself.
>To show him a face he will not forget.
>And what happens if you cross a Royal envoy.
"Here's your challenge, Mender. Come and get me if you dare."
>Mender darts off in a hurry, disappearing into the house.
>And a friendly feminine voice soothes your anger.
>"That should be enough, my dear."
>You take a long breath to calm yourself and slow your heartbeat.
>Sorry.
>Though I guess I gave him the show he wanted, don't you think?
>That image should last for a while.
>Maybe it even deters some attacks if you are lucky.
>"I would not bet on that, Anon."
>How so?
>"You see, Scrap Mender and his group are amongst the more known scavengers on the field. And you have just challenged him to come after you once his friends are 'miraculously revived' and team up with him."
>Your confident grin wipes itself off your face as quickly as it has come.
>Tell me you're joking.
>"Not at all. You have ensured your reputation to rise quickly amongst the ranks of the players. This is what you wanted to hasten your mission, is it not?"
>Yes.
>But not in this hail Mary manner.
>Oh man, this is what happens if you fight in uncharted environments.
>You have just tripped yourself into a pitfall you did not even know to exist in the first place.
>Well, it happened, and now you cannot undo the mess.
>You have to deal with the image you have created for yourself.
>So you pick up your cloak, turn to the abandoned hamlet once more and resume your trip.
>You leave the three ponies behind as they are.
>"Anon?"
"Yes, #deca?"
>"How do you like the game so far?"
"My opinion hasn't changed."
>"But you got really immersed in the setting at the end."
"Only because that pinhead tried to dupe me to palm a new shiny toy off on his group with a 'legit' pretence."
>"Do not be too hard on him. This is part of the experience. To challenge each other safely in ways that would never be possible in Equestria at large. And in so doing, the ponies push themselves and their talents in new and innovative ways without causing any true harm."
"Again, good on them. But it's not mine. Though that's a score I have to settle now."
>"But please keep it in good sport. The real Mender is an upright pony who means no harm. In fact, I am sure you would like him under different circumstances."
"Yeah, sure. But I can't just let it slide. And I could use your help in this too."
>"Have no fear, we will make it together."




>Heh, together.
>Sounds oddly inaccurate as you wander through the dust on your own.
>But #deca.mare is nevertheless with you.
>She is sharing the experience just as much as you do.
>On a technical level, you are precisely as near, or remote, to the action as she is.
>Yet you are also both here in spirit.
>Two lovers acting as one.
>And together your love will conquer the wasteland.
>At least when it is kept in jest.
>Or you simply deliver your parchment.
>One or the other.
>Or both?
>And perhaps, you will also find some fun in here while you do.
>If not from the setting yourself, then at least with the company you share as a man with his mare.
>After all, what would be the point about it all without it?

April. April never changes. - A very autistic author with too many ponies and spaceships in his head, Anno Domini 2021




2077.1

"Here we go again." - A famous proverb.

>The rush of your first engagement on the game field fades quickly as you get some distance between you and the scene.
>Yet you cannot let your guard down, for you know you are being hunted from now on.
>You are unsure when exactly Mender's jolly little party is coming after you, but they absolutely will sooner or later.
>Especially when he is relieved from his post and returns to the game himself.
>Then you have at least four adversaries to deal with.
>Annoying, though not hopeless if you play your own advantages correctly.
>And one such advantage can even talk to you in person.
"#deca, I need you to be completely upfront from here on out. No more secrets or by the by comments, okay?"
>"Understood, Anon. I will be your eyes and ears."
"Thanks. Are there any more surprises between me and the houses?"
>"None. There are no other ponies or obstacles in the way."
"And in the settlement itself?"
>"It has one current resident. She is not hostile unless provoked though."
"Please define 'provoke'."
>"Do not try to shoot or threaten her. And she will return the favour."
>Sounds easy enough.
>"By the way, the 'dead' are rising from their graves, Anon."
>That quickly?
>You only have a head start of two kilometres or so.
>You turn your head to the site of your fight and magnify the scene in your vision.
>Three colourful specks start to stir and rise.
"Are they trying to chase after me?"
>"They debate this option, as you have left them with most of their equipment. Chances are that they are likely to attempt a pursuit."
>In this case you have to get a move on.
>They know where you are heading anyway, so if you want to pay that hamlet a visit, your only hope is speed.
"And nobody else but them is watching me, correct?"
>"No players, at least. Indeed."
"Okay then. Let's see how they like keeping up with this."
>You burst into a short gallop and take a long leap.
>In midair, you spread your wings and flap steadily to maintain your current height.
>You keep your altitude at somewhere between two or three metres above the soil as you bolt towards the small collection of huts.
>A fast 'below the radar' trip to your destination.
"#deca, where's the resident you mentioned? I don't want to spook her."
>"Underground. She will not notice your rapid approach."
"That's pretty careless for a player."
>"You see, she is not here to partake in the game as such. So she has no stake in the fate of anyone else."
>Your initial gut response is to wonder why the hell someone would join a strange wild west wasteland game, with almost no rules at that, if not for the reason to play it.
>Then again, you have just described yourself.
>"Besides, nopony knows that she is here. Though you might want to talk to her."
>Something makes you doubt that the mysterious pony will be happy if you stumble into her little wasteland shelter, but you trust #deca.mare's assessment.
>You near the hamlet.




>"Anon, are you interested in looting some goodies for the trek?"
"How much stuff is hidden there?"
>"Several caches in different houses."
"Useful things?"
>"Some food and water, soft rubber bullets, and a few bandages."
"Any traps?"
>"None. This place is designed for beginners."
"Okay, I take it. Give me the location of the boxes and I fetch it before meeting the mysterious mare. All in one rush, we're on the clock!"
>"Agreed. The first house you want to visit is the closest one to your left."
>And you follow her instructions as she leads you through the landmark with her master knowledge.
>To shorten the time, you cut the formality of using the door.
>Instead, you promptly storm through the window on the first floor of the small two-storey house.
>You rush to a drawer and find a metal box in it.
>The thing is locked.
"Dammit! I don't have the time or the tools to pick this."
>"Remember, Anon. There is no 'right' way to acquire things in here."
>Some gears in your head grind quickly.
>And it makes click in a matter of seconds.
"Anything fragile inside?"
>"No, none of the boxes here contain easily breakable items.
>Alright, easy mode ensues then.
>You put the box on the ground with the lock looking upwards.
>Then you give the container one merciless kick from above.
>Its metal lock shatters alongside the joint which kept the box intact.
>The container breaks apart with a loud cracking noise.
>A lightly smaller cardboard box is revealed within the wreck. 
>It depicts a bunch of rounded rubber pellets.
>Neat if you get a fitting gun.
>You hastily store the ammo box in your saddle bag.
"Next."
>You rush out of the same window, and fly a curve to directly head for the next house.
>This time you enter the proper way.
>More or less.
>You slam the door open in a hurry, and accidentally hoist the poor thing off its hinges with your liberal application of brute force.
>Yet you pay no attention to the banging of wood against more wood, as you run straight through the hall, and into an adjacent room.
>There you find an unlocked cabinet.
>A yellow box marked by three light rose butterflies greets you.
>The first aid box has no lock like the other one, as that would entirely defeat the purpose of the container.
>But in your urgency, you fail to notice that little detail.
>So you pummel the flaps of the box until they yield and cease to function.
>A small voice in your mind tells you to feel bad for maltreating Fluttershy's Cutie Mark, even though you have only beaten a silly container into submission.
>Still, you do not like that fact.
>You clap the case open and take the two separately packed bandages with you.
>Out again, house number three.
>And a solid wooden crate dies a rackety hero's death under the devil-may-care onslaught of your looting rampage.
>You claim a care package containing a handful of food rations.
>Boxed stuff, so far from the quality of your first hard earned apple.
>But food is food.
>And out in the wastes, every bite counts.




>So with the hamlet taken and sacked in a flash, you go to the fourth and last house.
>A derelict building, in a far more "damaged" state than the others.
>Originally also a two-storey construction, the upper half has been utterly destroyed, and its leftovers were strewn across the landscape.
>Its door is long gone even without a wild Pegasus on the loose.
>And the openings of the windows have been unconventionally expanded by further missing parts.
>Which at one point were somehow ripped out of the outer walls.
>The whole site already screams dud to you, as there is obviously nothing interesting in there whatsoever.
>Really, the only thing you can determine is that there is still enough left of the facade to ensure the stability of what little remains of the ruin.
>That is about it.
>An inconsequential nothing.
>Perfect to hide something from curious eyes.
>You gallop through the main entrance.
>To stand in an uninspired, empty hallway.
>The friendly voice inside your head tells you to walk all the way up to the opposite end of the hall.
>There you take a turn to the right into what appears to be an emptied store room.
>Apart from the wooden planks of the floor, there is literally nothing of interest in here.
>Nevertheless, #deca.mare tells you to enter.
>And once inside, you are told to look at the ground.
>So you do.
>Still, you only see wonderfully generic wood in plank form.
>"Not quite, Anon. There is more to it than what meets the eye."
>Huh?
>You raise an eyebrow and scan the floor.
>Indeed, your goggles pick up a faint energy signature.
"What's this?"
>You reach out with a forelimb, methodically probing the wood beneath you.
>At first, you sense nothing out of the ordinary.
>But then your leg phases right through the wood, getting hold of a grip.
>"Pull it."
>Trusting her words and being curious yourself, you do exactly that.
>As it turns out, the floor has a veiled wooden hatch that you have just opened.
>Leading straight into a cellar.
>"Ugh, great."
>Wait, that voice was not in your mind.
>This came out of the cellar.
>Yet before you can do anything else, a cyan mare's head phases through the faux wooden floor.
>A pony hand... mouthgun sticks between her teeth.
>And her annoyed rosy eyes pin you where you stand.
>So much for non-hostile.
>In your surprise, you do not immediately realise that the mare's mane resembles the vibrant hues of a rainbow.
>But the second you catch up with the events, your slowpoke brain processes who you are looking at.
>From squeaky hammers to Rainbow Dash in one day.
"Oh man, this place has too many colours for a wasteland."
>But Rainbow Dash ignores your comment completely.
>"Thuth ith and come down here bephore somephony elth teeth uth!"
>Her head disappears into the wood again.
>Yet her gun is surely still pointed at your head.
>You follow Rainbow Dash into the cellar and close its hatch behind you.
>As you have expected, she still holds you at gunpoint in the small dimly lit tunnel.




>She clearly did not expect any visitors.
"Look, I 'm not here to cause trouble."
>"Ah? And how dith you thind me?"
>You try it with a variant of the truth this time.
>Perhaps the Element of Loyalty will kindly respond to that.
"I was sent here with a lead."
>A dubious glint flashes in Rainbow's eyes.
>That alerted her.
"I'm not after you though. In fact, I didn't even know who exactly was down here. Only that someone was."
>"Thath doethn't make any senth."
>You sigh.
"I was directed here to find a quiet place to spend a while in. To shake off some trigger happy scavengers."
>Unfortunately, the prospect of a bunch of scavengers knocking at her door makes the mare only even more furious.
>You addressed the wrong subject.
>Say something else.
"Thing is, I'm a Royal Courier. Out to deliver some documents in the name of Princess Celestia."
>Suddenly, as if some magic words were spoken, her gaze softens a little.
>Only a tiny bit though.
>"Prooth it."
"Alright, I can. I'll get a scroll out of my bag. Don't get alarmed though, I've got an energy weapon under my cloak."
>Once more, the mare stiffens her alarmed stance.
>Yet she gives you the benefit of the doubt.
>So you slowly sit down to untie the cloak and reveal your full loadout.
>You wait a second to let the sight sink in before you reach for the bag.
>And the gun never loses its focus on you while you do.
>A short moment of rummaging around in your inventory follows, then you slowly pull out a long, aureate casing.
>Sealed with the emblem of Equestria's sun.
>The Royal Mark of a diarch.
>And despite Rainbow Dash's famous disinterest for anything of this noble fancy, she does recognise what you are holding.
>She lowers the gun and puts it on her own back.
>"Follow me, but be quiet. Don't want any of those amateurs up there to hear us."
>Rainbow Dash turns around and slowly trots off.
>You follow her through the narrow passage for about twenty metres.
>Until it leads into a much brighter and larger cavern, lit by candles and torches on the walls.
>The interior is... unique.
>A plain bed, a table filled with loads of scribbled notes, stools, and other pieces of old wooden furniture.
>Like showcases and stands.
>And what catches your interest is that each of these pieces hold ancient artefacts of various kinds, gathered throughout the entirety of Equestria.
>Old temple treasures of the south.
>Rare crystalline formations gathered from the vicinity of the Crystal Empire, and brimming with a lot of potent energy within.
>A magically enchanted Zebra mask which gives its wearer a limited insight into the hidden arcane secrets of the world.
>And, last but not least, a certain small piece of ornament which is commonly known as the Alicorn Amulet.
>One fast scan with your goggles confirms that all of these items are the real deal, and not some very well made replicas.
>And all of them have the potential to corrupt or deceive the user in one way or another with the temptation of extreme power.




>You are looking at Equestria's variant of a doomsday device vault.
"Holy shit."
>Your host replies with a hushed, but nevertheless confident voice.
>"Impressed? Hah, you ought to."
>Rainbow Dash notices that you look in silent awe at the display down here.
>She knows that you are aware of the potential behind these artefacts.
>"You better don't try to open any of these things. They're magically protected to remain sealed."
>She grins and motions you to sit down on one of the stools.
>"And in contrast to the crystal that upholds the illusion at the stairs, they'll kick your flank if you try. Even I can't touch them. Take a seat."
>You notice something peculiar at this point in time.
>The mare in front of you does not sound like the Rainbow Dash you are familiar with.
>The looks fit perfectly, though some things are a little odd.
>Her voice is rough and seasoned, yet it lacks the distinct raspy pronunciation.
>The choice of words is different.
>And she does not act as boastful as she should either.
>Besides, when would one of Equestria's most famous stunt fliers hide herself and a bunch of old artefacts inside a concealed bunker?
>Rainbow Dash is far too closely bound to the skies for that.
"Who are you?"
>Your host looks at you in light confusion.
>"Huh? What do you mean?"
"A simple question, isn't it? Who are you?"
>"Are you serious? Have you never heard of Rainbow Dash? Ponyville? Element of Loyalty? You know, the one who helped saving Equestria dozens of times?"
"Sure did. More than you imagine, actually."
>You keep standing.
>On guard, but not trying to come off as aggressive.
"That's why I know you ain't it."
>"Rainbow Dash" sighs.
>"You're far too inquisitive for your own good."
"Nah. Just got almost ripped off by a scavenger less than five minutes in. So excuse my caution."
>"Scrap Mender?"
"Yep."
>"Heh, I know him. Good stallion in the real world. But he's a sleazy pain in the rump at the games."
"Don't derail the topic. Who are you?"
>"Alright, alright. You got me. I'm not Rainbow Dash. I only look very similar to her for some strange reason."
"I noticed. And your name?"
>Not-Rainbow-Dash puts the gun on the table and strikes a pose, wings flared and ready to pounce.
>You take a step back just to be cautious.
>"Imagine me with an ochre coat and a dark grey mane. Ring any bells?"
>You understand immediately.
>As you mentally add an adventurer's hat and an olive shirt to the composition.
"Daring?"
>"The one and only."
>Is that right, #deca?
>The mare in your mind replies accordingly.
>"She is telling the truth."
>You relax somewhat.
"What's someone like you doing here in the middle of nothing?"
>"First things first. You're serving the Crown, yes?"
"I do. Sent by Celestia herself."
>You take a breath and think of something to ultimately convince her.
"And if my memory serves me right, you're serving the diarchy as well."
>Daring's eyes widen in surprise.
>"How do you know that?"




>You shrug casually.
"Access to the Royal archives. Can do wonders sometimes."
>"Fair." 
>She breathes once before she continues.
>"So I hope I can count on your secrecy."
"Yeah. You don't have to bonk me over the head and take the artefacts somewhere else while I'm knocked out cold. I keep my mouth shut."
>Another thought crosses your mind.
"How have you brought them here anyway? You didn't ferry..."
>You let a forehoof pan around the room.
"...all of these across the wasteland, did you?"
>Not to mention her relying on only one exit.
>That could end very badly if someone decided to obstruct it.
>Be it only unwittingly.
>"Right, I didn't. There's a hidden door on the other side of the cavern. Connects this cellar to an old tunnel system made out of iron."
>You tilt your head.
"Oh? You mean 'those' old tunnels?" 
>"You know them?"
"Never been there in person, though I heard they can lead everywhere."
>You put a very strong emphasis on your words to hint at your own limited knowledge of the situation.
>For you have a sneaking suspicion you want to check out.
>"Nopony knows who originally dug the complex, but yes. You heard right. It has underground ways and exits all over Equestria. Some even reach up to the old abandoned mines beneath Canterlot Castle if you trot long enough." 
"Do they?"
>"Oh, they do. Many Royal scouts charted the tunnels when the structures were first discovered. They're abandoned and safe to travel, but hardly anyone uses them. You don't want to go there without a map and a very good sense of navigation."
>You take a long, hard breath.
"So the cave's connected to the terraformer tunnels."
>"The what?"
>You did not exactly think this through before you said that out loud, and only realise the blunder after the fact.
"Never mind, it's just the name I know them by."
>And you happen to know that they are not quite as abandoned as Daring Do makes them out to be, though you have no way to properly explain that to her.
>Plus, she could not understand it.
>Interestingly though, you believe she does not quite buy this thin explanation either and senses that there is more to the matter than you tell her.
>"What's your name, by the way?"
"Anon."
>"That's a pseudonym, isn't it."
>You shake your head.
>"Come on, I've used enough of them myself to spot these things. You have another, a real name, don't you?"
"No, I'm really called Anon."
>"Weird. Never heard of such a pony name."
>You grin slyly.
"Guess my parents always wanted me to become a secret agent."
>Daring Do is not overly carried away by your joke, but she leaves the matter as it is.
"Back to my question though, what are you doing here with all that stuff?"
>"Isn't it obvious? This place is a stash for the 'stuff'. To prevent the things from being misused. Hidden underneath the racket of the games above, it's the perfect spot to safeguard the items. Remotely located, yet completely in our reach."
"So in short, you're the curator."




>"At the moment. I'm not the only one though. And we are looking for ways to purify these artefacts without reducing their potency. But until we found a way, they're better off behind some enchanted glass."
>For some reason you have the positive feeling that they will be successful one day.
"And what about the other entrance? Aren't you concerned someone like me can just march in here? That's a security risk if I ever saw one."
>"I too have to get some rations somehow, you see? Besides, you're the first to find it in dozens of cycles."
>Daring Do clears her voice as she sorts her notes.
>"Didn't think you would though. Your plundering sounded so horribly inept, I thought you were a bloody beginner."
>So you imagine this is why your finding ticked her off so vehemently.
>Getting ousted by an apparent idiot must be a fate nobody wants to experience.
>Much less a hardened adventurer like Daring.
>For she is certainly much tougher than most of the other ponies around here.
"You heard that?"
>Daring Do loses her composure for a moment.
>"Are you kidding? Everypony around us heard you! You raged around like a crazed poltergeist!"
>Considering that you put a giant spotlight on her hideout, that ire is just too understandable.
>You try to defuse the conversation before a wrong word of either of you gives your location away to the scavengers on the surface.
>They must surely be looking for you at this very moment.
>And it would be in the interest of nobody if they find you and the cellar.
"Okay, okay. I understand. Sorry for that. My... sources didn't mention anything about this deposit."
>Your irate host calms down a notch and invites you again to take a seat.
>You accept this time.
>It helps to have a civilised conversation at a table rather than a standoff at gunpoint.
>"Let me be honest with you. I'm not sure why you were sent my way to begin with. I rarely work with others and can't leave my post for very long."
"Well, all I was told is that I may want to have a chat with you."
>"That's all?"
"Uh huh."
>"Looks like I'm not the only one who gets cryptic instructions when it comes to mission briefings."
>A pause.
>"Thought it was just me because of my books."
"Yeah, doubtful. You over-dramatise your stories far too much. No pony would ever see them as a security breach when more than half of the stuff is either made up or exaggerated like crazy."
>Daring Do shrugs.
>"I need to keep my readers hooked, don't I? And it's a fine business for everyone too. The readers get the stories they crave, and I have my expenses covered."
>Neat explanation, but you know that there is more to the story than this.
"And your 'friend'?"
>Your notion causes the adventurous mare to smile.
>"My dear colleague 'Cheval Renom' profits too. He receives a fair cut of the earnings for playing the comically villainous doctor. Finances his own trips into the wild with the bits."
"Sounds fine to me."




>Heh, if the world knew that the hero and the villain are working hoof in hoof, the readers would cause an uproar.
>Then again, barely anyone knows that the two characters are real ponies in the first place.
>But at least that strange chimeric villain remains a pure figment of her imagination; he would be an anatomical nightmare to deal with otherwise.
>Certainly, all of these things are more parts of the ploy as a whole.
>After all, the two love to play their games on several layers at once.
>Especially when nobody from the outside can determine which parts of the stories might be real, and which are total fabrications by the writers.
>And doubly delicious irony is at work once more, since Daring is wholly unaware that she is in good company in that respect right now.
>For all her justifiable doubts about you, she plainly cannot even comprehend just how much of a difference there truly is between the two of you.
>On the other hand, you are glad that neither of them knows of your little bet with #deca.mare regarding the question whether the two 'friendly rivals' will end up as a couple or not.
>Different and unrelated topic though.
>You have more questions to ask anyway.
"But why are you running around as Rainbow Dash?"
>"Simple delusion. For the brief moments I'm on the surface to garner supplies. Let others think it's another known mare who sweeps the field."
>Daring grins.
>"Hides my own tracks very well."
"Hm, I'm not sure Rainbow would approve."
>"Pheh, she owes me that one for almost ruining my golden ring mission. And I at least try to do her justice and make her look 'awesome', as she would put it."
"Suit yourself. I don't think I could pretend to be someone else like this."
>Which is the boldest lie you have possibly ever spoken.
>And Daring Do is not convinced either.
>Strike three on your part.
>"Don't try to take me for a fool. You do the exact same thing. And more."
>Uh, what?
>How does she know this?
>Especially the last part.
"Come again?"
>"You deliberately mislead everpony by acting like a blunt amateur. And you only say half the truth at best. Tell me how this deception is different from mine."
>Ah yes, of course.
>Everything you did so far was the sole genius stratagem of your mastermind.
>Sure.
>It is not like you had help from an invisible friend or anything.
>Yet this is not an argument you can use against her.
>What comes up next, however, is your own idea from beginning to end.
"Never mind that." 
>"One of your key phrases, huh?"
"Really, I think I'm starting to see why I was sent to you."
>"Oh? Do tell."
"I reckon you won't help me in delivering my scrolls, do you?"
>She wordlessly points at all the artefacts around you in this room.
"Thought so. But perhaps you can help me with those scavengers."
>"To draw even more attention to this region? That brilliant plan is the best strategy you have in mind?"
"That's not gonna happen if we do this right."
>"Bold words. So what is it?"




"I want to discourage them from following me and return to their own base instead. At least for a little while."
>"How?"
>You grin deviously.
"By raiding the raiders before they can raid us."
>Daring Do listens to you quietly.
>Your use of the word "us" does not seem to feel particularly appealing to her.
>For her priorities are elsewhere.
"These punks tried to get me as they thought I was easy prey. Now they follow me because I didn't take all their stuff the first time around."
>She raises an eyebrow.
>"And because you bruised their ego, I assume?"
"Probably. Problem is, I don't want them to get my scrolls. They're meant for the big shots around here. Each for the leader of one faction."
>A nod.
>"I think I know who you mean."
"But I can't do that when I have that group hot on my heels the whole time. I need to take them out again to win a little breathing space."
>"Not because you want their gear?"
>You shake your head.
"That's secondary to me. They don't have much I can use reliably anyway."
>"Alright. But why do you need my help when you have beaten them on your own?"
"They weren't properly prepared for the fight. But they'll be smarter next time. And let's face it, it's in your own interest to help me."
>"Really? You like to talk big, don't you?"
"Am I wrong?"
>Daring Do feigns to contemplate your proposal.
>"Hm, now that you ask, why yes. Yes, I think you're dead wrong."
"About what?"
>"Your plan won't work. It's going to backfire and pound your flank sooner or later. Because the harder you trounce them, the more they want to get you." 
>You snicker.
"That doesn't sound at all like the brave adventurer you write about in your novels."
>She rolls her eyes.
>"Oh, please. I spanked the rears of thugs before you were even foaled."
>Well, technically not wrong.
"Only two-dimensional though."
>"What?"
"Nothing. Carry on."
>Displeased by yet another weird hand-wave of yours, Daring do taps the table with her forehoof.
>"Anyway, they're no challenge for me on the field. They'll turn tail and run before you can count to ten. But retreat or no retreat, they'll come back for a rematch. And I don't want them here."
>The subtle irate notion returns to her speech.
>"You have no idea how annoying it is to transport all of this. And that's why this place mustn't get busted. Do you understand?"
>You do.
>Including the slight criticism against your person for bringing the scavengers near the cavern at all.
"So you think we could drive them to a hunt if we poke them hard enough?"
>"That's what I said."
"All the better, actually."
>You receive another look of scepticism.
"We just have to make them chase me, and only me. Then they won't bother looking around this place anymore."
>As she follows your words, Daring Do looks at you in puzzlement.
>"Wait a second. I thought you wanted to get rid of them. Now you say you WANT them to start a chase? So which is it now?"




"They're after me no matter what. Mender called for a hunt before I even got here, so this won't change either way. And that's a good thing in the long run as I've got to cause some ruckus. The big leaders shall take note of a lone little Pegasus courier out in the wild."
>You pause to take a breath and let your words sink in.
"But like I said, the three build up too much pressure too early on. Hence the needed respite."
>"You play a strange game there, Anon. If that is your name to begin with."
"It is. And yeah, I'm aware. Believe me though, I have the resources for it. Most of them, anyway."
>And most importantly, you have a mare who talked you into all of this in the first place.
>Still, more options are always better.
"Though a little assistance of yours would help me a great deal."
>Daring sighs.
>"Gotta take your word for it, I guess."
>Enthusiasm sounds differently.
>You need to motivate her some more.
"Honestly, think rationally about our situation. These three won't leave until they found me, that much is clear. So we are left with two options. We wait and hope against better knowledge, or we act and take the matter into our own ha... hooves. Time isn't in our favour though."
>You feel you need to elaborate on that point some more.
"If we wait until tomorrow, Mender will join them too."
>Daring Do grumbles as you mention that name again.
>Yes yes, you get the message.
>In-game pain in the rump.
>Clearly, she does not want that stallion around these parts if she can avoid it.
>And maybe you should add another little, yet vital detail.
>Even though Daring Do will not like what she is about to hear.
>You cough coyly.
"And I may... or may not have... accidentally challenged him after I bested his band."
>The adventurer's response is a groaning facehoof.
>One of the spontaneous kind.
>"Oh for Celestia's sake! I should have shot your head when I got the chance!"
>You go the most blatant way possible and simply overlook that last exclamation.
"Can I count on you?"
>Diplomacy at its best.
>She rubs her cyan dyed temples.
>"You won't stop making things worse for me until I say yes, huh?"
"I'd appreciate your cooperation. As a fellow helper of the Crown."
>And as a token of your gratitude, you promise you will personally donate a gift to celebrate the future birth of her first foal with Caballeron.
>Or Cheval Renom.
>Or whatever other pseudonym he will use.
>Though you keep that speck of foal optimism to yourself too.
>You do not want to find out how many proxy bones Daring Do can break when she is really angry.
>The proverbial and unintentional middle finger you have shown her is large enough already.
>Maybe you should consult Cadence on this matter when this is all over though.
>In the name of love, of course.
>And your bet.
>But #deca.mare has some stern words to say on your ponderings.
>"No. This is their decision to make. Or not to make. We have no say in this, Anon. Besides, that would be cheating."
>Okay, you yield.




>Yet you must admit that their foals would surely be adorable.
>Fortunately for everybody involved in current events, however, Daring Do is blissfully unaware of your musings regarding her love life.
>Otherwise her next words would be far from those she is actually going to say out loud.
>"Fine. I'll help you."
"Wait, you do? Thank y..."
>Her forehoof shoots in your direction.
>"Ah! Don't thank me yet. I must insist on a recompense for my... aid."
>You let your ears droop.
"Seriously?"
>"Of course. In case you haven't noticed, stuff's scarce around here. Food, fuel for the torches, the quaint stuff they call 'bullets', you name it."
"You know these guns are mere toys, yeah?"
>"Doesn't matter. The ponies up there believe in their power, so they work for all I care. Also,..."
>The raised hoof bonks the table.
>"...consider it your dunce fee for being so careless as to bring scavengers near a secret hiding place. And because you omit too much. Acted tomfoolery or strategic choice, I don't care. That was a reckless move of you."
"Now that's mean."
>"No, that's what I call practical. I don't have all day to look around for material, so I can only ever leave at night when nopony is watching too closely. And I never take stuff from the hamlet above. Would be too suspicious."
>A second thud of hoof on wood.
"And you've ruined my collection run tonight. Which means I'll need to get them elsewhere."
>Of course.
>She demands the stuff you have plundered from the hamlet.
>After all, when everyone knows that you have ravaged the place, her alibi remains tight even if she receives the goods from you eventually.
"If you insist. Fifty fifty?"
>"I was more thinking of two thirds to one."
"Not demanding at all."
>"It's not like you have many options."
>You tilt your head sceptically.
"Neither do you if you can't scout."
>"Take a wild guess why I demand more than a half."
>Fair point.
>"So how much was hidden in those crates? Put it all on the table."
>You reach out to your mare lover in orbit.
>#deca, she knows exactly how much was stored there, doesn't she?
>"Indeed, Anon. The amount cached at each individual site is roughly the same every time, with just a few minor changes in their composition. Only the manner of how they are hidden can vary greatly."
>So she is testing me.
>"Precisely."
>In that case, you play with an open deck of cards.
>For you have strained any sense of trust to the breaking point already.
>You unpack everything you have stored.
>The ammo box, the care packages, and the two bandages.
>Daring Do eyes you.
>Deeply.
>Inquisitive.
>"That's all?"
>She asks coldly with a clear rational notion.
>Testing your integrity to such a degree that you almost feel like a liar despite telling the truth.
"Yeah. In... three stashes."
>She nods slowly.
>At first it feels like she is further probing you.
>But then her expression turns into a much more approving one.
>"Fine. Let's have a look."




>Daring Do carefully investigates everything you have laid out on the table.
>After a few minutes, she begins to separate them into two piles.
>Each with a packed bandage, yet one with distinctively less foodstuffs than the other.
>At last, she tries to open the cardboard box.
"Daring, wait."
>"What is it?"
"I'm willing to cede the whole box to you if we share the food a bit more evenly."
>"You do?"
"Yup. The rubber has no value to me without the right gun to fire it."
>Daring's hoof rests on the box, holding it in its place on the table.
>"Little tip for future bartering, friend. Never say something has no value to the pony you want to sell it. Only weakens your position. But..."
>She shoves the ammo box right in the centre, and places a few portions of food from the larger pile right next to it.
>"...I'm willing to accept your deal."
>Daring Do waits until you prepare to say something.
>Just to interrupt you before you can start.
>"But only if you convince me with a compelling argument."
"How?"
>A shrug.
>"Tell me a reason why I should give away something I can chew on for a bunch of rubber balls."
>You hesitate a few seconds as you carefully evaluate what to say next.
>Eventually, you find an answer you believe to be good enough from a practical standpoint.
"Because sometimes bullets are more valuable than food, depending on your situation. We're about to head into a firefight and you'll need all the replacements you can get for the shots you inevitably take today. So why give a third of them away if you can have them all? And in a time of doubt, you still can trade fired shots for food if you're in a tight spot."
>You let that answer sink in and watch how Daring Do responds.
>First she does nothing.
>Then she smiles.
>"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? I knew you aren't as dim as you pretend to be."
>She takes the ammo and pushes the boxed food your way.
>At least the distribution of foodstuffs is now almost at fifty to fifty.
>Considering the circumstances, this is probably the best trade you can hope for.
>You take your share of the loot and store it in your bags again.
>And so you have more than halved your gains of the day.
>To hire a legendary adventurer cloaked as a different famous pony.
>Friendship expiration limit: One battle.
>Still, worth it.
>You must take whatever strange things the wasteland has to offer.
>And as the two of you tend to your personal equipment, you hear steps and shoving noises coming from above.
>Daring Do jumps to her gun in the blink of an eye, and motions you to freeze.
>You comply without a comment.
>Both of you stand still as statues while you closely listen to every single sound you can hear through the thick walls around you.
>It is not much, but enough to comprehend that several ponies are turning the architecture above upside down.
>In their search for a certain Pegasus, no doubt.
>Minutes pass before the noise gradually tones down once more.




>Eventually, Daring Do deems it safe enough to talk to you again, albeit in a very hushed voice.
>"Don't think they've left. They're camping somewhere nearby. Waiting for you to show up."
"Yeah, thought so. Ready to teach them who's the boss?"
>Daring Do's hisses quietly.
>"No! I told you I won't leave until dusk!"
"Meaning we're stuck here until then?"
>"We are. Welcome to the life of an underground pony."
>And as such, you are more or less forced to spend the next hours together.
>You cannot leave without being spotted, and Daring Do sure as hell will not let you endanger the integrity of her hideout.
>So you wait.
>The first hour is filled with awkward silence, in which you barely exchange a syllable with one another.
>But after you have waited for long enough and convinced yourself that it is safe to talk in very muffled tones, you ask Daring for more information about the wasteland and its topography.
>Of course, you could also rely on your encyclopaedic mare in the sky, but she insisted on you to play the game more or less as it was meant to be played.
>Gaining information is part of that experience.
>And Daring Do helps you out, free of additional charge.
>Probably in an attempt to pass the time with you as quickly as possible, but never mind.
>She picks up a loose piece of parchment and draws you a map with the outlines of the game zone.
>Including most of the important points of interest within.
>And your quick crash course in wasteland one-oh-one begins.
>Daring explains to you that the parts near the entrances all have low-level, low-risk waypoints.
>Such as the hamlet you are currently hiding in.
>There are about a dozen or so of those.
>Barely relevant for most veterans, with only modest loot and not much to do.
>Organised ambushes notwithstanding, of course.
>The other remote locations near the outer rim, but a bit further away from the entrances, are intermediate to moderately rated ones.
>Similar in number to the beginner spots, yet somewhat harder to reach from the starting points.
>An uptick in difficulty and rewards for more skilled ponies in search for better material, but who are still not reaching the cutting edge quite yet.
>Further towards the centre are the really interesting locations.
>The most challenging treasure troves, and the most contested fortresses with the best supplies.
>And more importantly for your mission, the main bases of each faction.
>There are four of them, and they are all relatively evenly distributed in a ring around the core section of the map.
>And these bases, whilst certainly powerful in their own right and, if necessary, able to house several hundreds of ponies each, all have unique characteristics that reflect the spirit of each faction.
>Which can be both their strength and weakness.




>One is a heavily Earth pony dominated scavenger fortress, cobbled together by whatever material the ponies could find to build an imposing castle of scrap.
>A well connected network of artisans and scavengers cooperate to ensure a steady influx of resources from the field.
>Enabling the main group, or "clan" in the fortress to maintain a decent living, and still support a number of minor and loosely allied secondary clans in smaller settlements.
>In many ways, Daring Do describes them as rough, but also the "economic" powerhouse in the wasteland which has a moderate bit of everything equipment wise.
>Though on the flipside, they are also the most prone group of individuals to lapse into internal power shifts and tournaments, as minor clans try to gain prestige and influence to hold more sway in the dealings of the core fortress in turn.
>Ponies who love contests feel right at home there.
>And they are the largest faction by far, at least in terms of raw numbers.
>For instance, Scrap Mender's little band belongs to the veterans of a more influential satellite group in this faction.
>Daring Do muses that he calculated on an easy victory against a legit Royal Courier to prove himself and the value of his group.
>You reckon that you gave the hornet's nest a good clap already by defeating them this quickly.
>Another base is a bunker like tunnel system, housing ponies with a knack for experimental projects.
>Predominantly consisting of Unicorn magicians, yet also staffed by a handful of other ponies with some knowledge of the arcane in one way or another.
>Members of their ranks usually wander outside to test their newest inventions on the field.
>Like potions and spells the world has never seen before.
>With highly varying shades of efficiency and success.
>On one day they may bring forth frighteningly effective concoctions.
>And on others their inventions fizzle out like firecrackers, or cease to function with a puff of dark smoke.
>Naturally, this group has strict security protocols in order to not create anything truly harmful, but sometimes they nevertheless become the victims of scorched hair and minor burns.
>Much to the complaints of the medic teams, for they are frequently needed when individuals of this group are involved in virtually anything of note.
>As such, most of the other players try to avoid contact with these bunker dwellers.
>Because even though they are the most polite and upfront association of them all, they are also utterly unpredictable.
>You may never know when something these ponies make will blow up in your face.
>And such a trait is generally unpopular in most circles.
>The third faction, also residing in a fortified bunker, and similarly largely made up of Earth ponies and Unicorns, have a different focus.
>Like the other two, they love to stride the fields to test their mettle in confrontations.




>But whereas one swears on fortifying collected scrap, and the other on alchemic or magical jumble, this group relies heavily on crafting, improving, and perfecting their personal gear for the arena.
>In so doing, these ponies master both the offence and defence, and possess an unusually large amount of top-notch equipment.
>Nearly all pieces of armour and weaponry in their arsenal are unique custom fabrications and works of art in their own right.
>For each and every one within their ranks is constantly driven by the desire of adapting and improving personal belongings so that they better cater to individual preferences on the field.
>Making them in many ways the most sophisticated group of ponies with the highest power per player on an individual level.
>Yet at the same time they are also the most difficult gang to negotiate with, despite being the smallest faction in terms of numbers.
>And the doctrine of quality over quantity can hold its ground just fine on the game field, which further makes them perceive themselves as a sort of righteous knightly order amongst the "rabble".
>Or they are at the very least pretty convincing in playing that role within this zone.
>Proud and self-confident due to their advantages, and still somewhat chivalrous in a manner that nobody outside their circle truly understands, this heavily geared breed of wastelanders is a comparatively rare sight.
>But whenever some show up, the situation usually gets heated very quickly.
>All the tinkering and the improvements of their arsenal require a great deal of material to work with.
>And lacking the supply lines of the more common scavenger clans, some other methods of requisition must do the job instead.
>So when the "knights" are riding to gain more fodder for their craftwork, they apply any means necessary to obtain what they seek.
>No matter who or what stands in their way.
>Plus, Daring Do warns you that one should plan very far ahead before felling a member of these ranks.
>Because the self-proclaimed knights take the loss of their stuff remarkably badly, and are hell-bent and willing to hunt anyone who bested them in combat and plundered their "remains".
>Often with the help of a couple of others in the process.
>And they have a high success rate of avenging on another and undo the "mistakes".
>As you hear this, you are plainly grateful that you were not compelled to fight a trio of these right from the start.
>The fourth side, mainly founded by Pegasi, deploys a small staging post on the ground which coordinates several dozens of cloud structures above the field.
>They are the most mobile of factions, but also the one with the least amount of physical resources, given their reliance on clouds and sky travel.
>Still, the Pegasus teams too are a force to be reckoned with.
>As you already know, the fliers have a strong favour for powerful energy weapons out of sheer necessity, despite their relative rarity.




>However, given their practical monopoly on recharging the energy cells through natural means, the Pegasi have the liberty to use these weapons far more efficiently and liberally than their ground-bound rivals.
>With no real fear to ever run out of ammunition on top of that.
>An advantage the Pegasi use to the fullest, as they often form agile assault squads and have them flying just barely beneath the cloud layer, looking for suitable targets.
>Hard to see from the ground, whilst they themselves can see everything perfectly.
>Always ready to swoop down from the skies to take out smaller, unsuspecting targets in a matter of seconds after their discovery.
>Hit and run fun for the whole family.
>Provided you have wings or know a Unicorn who can make you walk on air.
>And as you process this, you must immediately imagine an army of magically butterfly-winged non-pegasi lurking in the clouds and fluttering towards their hapless victims, guns blazing.
>Preferably to the tune of Wagner.
>It would surely make for a fascinating intimidation scene.
>Though Daring Do quickly dashes your vision of riding butterfly ponies, and instead reminds you to consider the more practical aspects of your situation.
>She states, for instance, that you have a considerable advantage as a Pegasus, as you could maybe even get "hired" by these fliers to gain their attention.
>But upon your question on how long this might take, she cannot give you a definite answer.
>The finer politics of this place are not her affair in the slightest.
>And that concludes Daring Do's Quick and Dirty Guide to the State of the Wasteland, Personalised Edition.
>Now you have a more comprehensive glimpse of what to expect, and you find yourself having trouble to take it all in properly.
>In short, the whole scenery is a vortex of strangely sportsmanlike chaos.
>Where ponies bombard each other with foam, rubber, magic lightshows, and who knows what else.
>And you are supposed to get to all of these places, and merrily knock on their doors for a mail delivery.
>Without getting shot at.
>Easy, absolutely.
>Strangely though, you begin to think it would be somewhat cute, if things were not so serious for your entrusted mission.
>Odd.
>You study the scribbled map and examine the exact location of every single waypoint.
>And the places around the main hubs in particular.
>Whilst these four positions appear to be very close to each other, the scale of the map indicates that they are at least five kilometres apart from their respective neighbours.
>Linear distance.
>Ensuring just enough space to both allow everyone to mind their own business if they want to, but also to give more aggressive types the chance to provoke some direct confrontations.
>Additionally, each party attempts to hold several minor locations around their base.
>Not only to expand their sphere of influence, but also to hinder the others in their endeavours to dominate the centre.




>For the material stashes therein are the largest of the entire wasteland.
>Because even though every group requires different materials for their projects, or different amounts of key resources for that matter, they all need to reach the centre to find the best quality goods for their individual needs.
>Turning it into an eternal bone of contention.
>You put your head on the table and sigh.
"That'll be a lot of work."
>"It is. The way I see it, you have two options. Either you try to gain the trust of each faction leader, or you challenge them to face you in person."
>Maybe there is a third.
"Or I sneak right into it."
>"Hah, good luck. You'd need to be an expert in infiltration and dungeon exploration for this."
"Like you?"
>"I'm sure I could. But I won't." 
"Don't you like a challenge?"
>"Forget it. The artefacts here have priority over your scrolls."
>Daring Do leaves her seat at the table and trots over to a pair of saddle bags in the corner of the cavern.
>"Be glad I'm helping you to get rid of the three above us."
>She pulls a pair of goggles out of the bag and dons it.
>Then she trots to the nearest drawer to pick up a small transparent crystal.
"What's this?"
>"Magic notifier. It alarms me when somepony touches the cellar door or one of the artefacts."
"But then it's too late to return in time."
>"Hah! Unless the raider has deep arcane knowledge on how to undo paralysis enchantments, no. The average pony needs half a day to recover enough to stand up again."
>A sensation you know just too well from other contexts.
>"Now come and get ready. It's almost sundown."
>You put your bags on the table and inspect them, making sure everything is in its place.
>"Take the map too. It's yours now."
"Thanks, really."
>A casual wave is all you get as response.
>Daring is far too focused on getting her own stuff in order.
>So you do the same as you add the wasteland map to your equipment.
>In this moment, #deca.mare hails you.
>"I have sent a copy of the map to your HUD, Anon. You can call upon it any time."
>And you try that with a thought.
>A perfectly digitally rendered and interactive map, based on Daring's hastily scribbled doodle, appears in your vision.
>Showing you all the places of the wasteland.
>Those you have visited are highlighted, and those you have not seen yet are greyed out.
>The latter category is unsurprisingly the crushing majority.
>And a red dot shows your current position on the field.
"Thanks."
>Daring Do replies.
>"You said that already."
>You shake your head.
"Oh, sorry. Never mind."
>"You know, if you weren't so crafty, I'd say there's something strange about you."
"Not really. I just tend to talk to myself when things get... complicated."
>"You really shouldn't do that if you try to sneak."
>Masterful advice.
>Then you notice that Daring Do reveals another, much larger map from a second drawer.
>And this one does not look like the wasteland at all.
>Yet at the same time, you have seen it before.
>Very, very often.




"What do you have there?"
>She looks at the document.
>"This? This is the thing that will save our rears. It's the map of the tunnels below."
"May I see it?"
>"Only if you're careful. We can't use the maze without it."
"Don't worry, I know how to handle maps."
>Daring Do shows a short moment of reluctance before she tentatively hooves the document over to you.
>You put your own bags aside and unfold it on the table.
>The sturdy parchment reveals a complicated web of lines and strokes that fill the entire surface of the thing.
>In addition to the incomprehensible mess of noodle lines comes a series of signs and symbols.
>Roman numbers and Greek letters, designating segments, and indicating both the depth of each tunnel and nearby exits.
>Imagery which is barely known, and much less used by ponies.
>Yet here they all come together on one extensive map.
>And they dot every single line en masse.
>Normally there would be no chance in hell for a first time viewer to understand what he is looking at.
>You, on the other hand, do know exactly how to handle the plan.
>For you have helped in the construction of the complex over a millennium ago.
>And thanks to your highly exclusive insider knowledge, you can tell that the chart before you does not cover the entirety of the caves under Equestria's surface.
>Not by a long shot.
>The ponies have merely charted the upper transport lanes.
>A considerable feat in its own right of course, but the real secrets of the world are still locked to their eyes.
>And the day of the revelation has not come yet.
>You trace the lines on the huge foldable map.
>Starting in the middle and then moving downwards.
>Or rather southwards.
>And once you are sure to know where you are on this extensive plan, you point at the respective spot with a foreleg.
>You look at the adventurer next to you.
"We're here, aren't we?"
>Silence.
"Well?"
>"Yes..."
>Daring Do clears her voice as her eyes narrow.
>"... and now in the name of Tartarus explain to me how you found this out so quickly. You said you never were down there."
>Oh boy, here you are again.
>You gulp once before you answer.
"Believe me, I've never set a... hoof down there in my life. But..."
>"But?"
"... as I said, I heard of the place and tried to study what I could find in the archives. The rest isn't so hard if you know the geography of Equestria."
>As any courier of the realm should.
>You point at a larger hub further to the north.
"If we imagine this map embodies the continent, then this is somewhere under Canterlot. Attached to the crystal mines, correct?"
>A reluctant nod.
>You point a little further down.
>At a place near another, smaller hub.
"Here's Ponyville then. And based on these two spots..."
>Your limb goes more than halfway down the remaining length of the document.
>Until you circle a region of a couple of dozen square kilometres.
"...the wasteland playground must be around here."
>Her inquisitive eyes remain on you.
"Am I right?"
>"You're right."




>A pause.
>"And I believe you're only saying half the truth. Again."
>You shrug.
"Let's just say I spent a lot of time in the archives."
>"Whatever. Are you prepared? We'll leave through the tunnel."
>You figured as much, considering that she packed the large map to begin with.
>You grin.
"Hm, you really think we can't take one of those artefacts with us? I bet I could handle the Alicorn Amulet."
>Daring Do emits a growl that almost sounds like an angry dog.
>"Propose this again and I'll knock you and leave your featherbrain for Scrap and his ilk to catch. These things are dangerous."
>Unless one uses a proxy with hidden features.
>After all, an amulet cannot mess with the spirit of a body that does not possess a soul to begin with.
>"Just for your information, a travelling Unicorn last used the trinket some decades ago. It corrupted her mind almost instantaneously to the point that she changed from stage magician to a tyrant. Right overnight. And she tried to enslave Ponyville for a petty feud afterwards."
>She takes an angry breath.
>"Rumours have it that things got so bad due to her sheer extensive use of magic power, that the mare nearly transformed into an alicorn with her own personal subdued army."
>You have to suppress a laughter.
>Now this is ridiculous.
>Granted, the amulet indeed boosted the mare's magic prowess.
>And yes, it tempted her to perform malicious deeds until Twilight and her friends tricked her to take it off.
>But Trixie as an alicorn with her own troops?
>Oh man, that would be quite a sight with her strategic acumen.
>Or profound lack thereof to be precise.
>Though to be fair to the azure whirlwind, she is thankfully learning to become more sociable without forfeiting her bravado where it truly counts.
>The stage.
>Who knows, maybe she can one day earn alicornhood after all.
>Not impossible in theory.
>But you doubt there will be a princess of fireworks and smoke bombs in Equestria any time soon.
>And a certain dungeon crawler mare has far more pressing concerns involving you at the moment.
>"Get a move on. We're on the clock."
"Sure. After you."
>Daring Do wastes no time as she takes her bags and marches to the cave wall opposite to the entrance from whence you came.
>Then she grabs one of the torch holders, and cranks it to a forty-five degree angle.
>"Magic" light fills the room for the fracture of a second.
>And the seemingly solid rock wall recedes and slides to the side.
>A smooth walkway, leading in two directions, is revealed behind the secret door.
>Several metres both in height and width, and made entirely of metal.
>But despite having no openings for natural light or the like, the architecture is somewhat dimly lit by small "magic" panels that are built into the walls themselves.
>And its sharp edges and rectangular angles remain perfectly even throughout the whole visible length of the structure.
>Daring Do trots onto the metal path, motioning you to follow.




>"Come and stay close. There's another hidden exit to the wasteland game nearby."
>She points to her right.
>"This way. Takes us about twenty minutes in a solid trot."
>Feigning a moderate notion of astonishment, you follow her out of the cavern.
>The second you have left, she pushes a mechanical button on the wall next to the secret opening.
>It too emits a light for a short while before the door closes again.
>Once fully shut, a faint clicking noise from the other side indicates that the torch has corrected its tilted position on its own.
"Whoa."
>"Don't ask how it works. These enchanted things are at every exit. They look simple, though our best scholars couldn't crack them yet. 'Wider implications', as they say. But the wizards claim to know enough about them to attest to their reliability."
>You attempt to turn this conversation into something less dense.
"Sounds complex. What does it mean in short?"
>"Translated for the rest of us: Typical magic doodah. Some research to this topic is always in progress, but don't expect any results soon. I for one have no clue what the longhorns in the academy are doing."
>She starts to move, and you follow suit.
>Your mutual steps echo through the otherwise dead silent tunnel.
>It would almost be eerie if you did not know that the network is safe.
"What do you know about these metal pathways?"
>"About as much as most ponies who work with or for the court. They reach through the whole land and are made out of iron. There are strange symbols everywhere on the walls and nopony knows for sure what they mean or what the tunnels were originally made for."
>The mare looks at you.
>"Though I guess that's nothing new to you."
>You chuckle, surprisingly so.
"No, that's true. I read several more elaborate theories on the matter though."
>"Do they hold any water?"
"Depends on who you ask."
>"Go on."
"You want to hear them?"
>"Of course. Dungeon lore is part of my job, isn't it? What kind of adventurer would reject this offer?"
>A poor one, certainly.
>"And it helps passing the time."
>You cannot say for sure if this statement was meant to signal her readiness to listen to you as a professional equal, or if she simply wants to keep you occupied.
>Either way, the result is the same.
"Alright. Let's start with the obvious. As you can imagine, this place is old. A whole slew of higher scholars tried to determine the exact age and origin with magic and whatnot."
>"Did they find any clues?"
"Yes and no. Virtually all sources come to the agreement that the tunnel is significantly older than a thousand years. Most likely even preceding the unification of the three pony tribes. And all of our mutual documentation of history."
>And as far as Equestria's own records are concerned, you are indeed telling her the full truth.
>You can tell that you have Daring Do's attention.




"But that's already where the similarities end and the theorising begins. Some say the tunnels were made by an ancient species who ruled the world in an age long before ponykind. Though no one could ever find any evidence to reconstruct why said species might have disappeared altogether and without a trace to speak of."
>"Hm, it could explain the undecipherable symbols everywhere. Still very shallow though. You always find some lore or legends to any temple if you look long enough. Things don't go poof out of the blue, you know? There's always a clue hidden somewhere. Trust me, I know. What else?"
"Another attributed the construction of these vast pathways to the usage of intensively bundled primal magic that has been lost somehow."
>"Unlikely for the same reasons. At least some ponies would have remembered and recorded the ritual, even if they weren't part of it themselves."
>Perhaps you should not go any further, but you want to present a test to Daring Do and see how well she fares.
>You cough.
"Others have more, well, contested ideas."
>"Such as?"
"Such as the claim that the tunnels were possibly made by someone who wasn't from this world at all. An entity, or entities, hailing from the stars."
>You hear Daring Do exhaling loudly in light amusement.
"Something wrong?"
>"Let me guess. The writer in question has some ties to the few pony communities that live in the deep southern jungles. Some have a few complex rites and prophecies revolving around the stars."
"Not as far as I know. From what I can tell, the theoretical groundwork seems solid. For he surmised that only someone with a sweeping and permanently accurate awareness of the world at large could have built a network of this scale. A 'super being', if you will. And no species in Equestria has that level of constant focus. Not even our diarchs."
>But as flattered as #deca.mare was after reading his theories, she could not tell him how close to the truth he was.
>Sadly cruel in a way.
>Yet she and you made sure from behind the scenes that the theory was spread in the world of Equestrian academia regardless.
>Though it still possesses a flaw that a perceptive adventurer mare quickly picks on as well.
>Daring Do flicks her tail.
>"That's all nice, but where's the evidence? Are there traces? What happened to the entity? And why did it leave?"
>The evidence talks to you, dear Daring.
"Are you asking as an explorer or an author now?"
>"Both."
"None of his approaches could find anything conclusive. Like all the others."
>You shrug.
"But if he's right, the entity might still be around. The wizard never stated to know whether it has left or not."
>"Living alongside us, huh? Now that sounds like a story to me. And let me guess, it was one of us all along. A star-being, wandering between ponies. Maybe it's even you or me?"
>You realise Daring Do is just running some plot elements through her mind, though it does feel like she is earnestly considering the notion.




"Me, a being of stars? Heh, only speak for yourself, Daring. I know for sure that my ancestors were all born on Earth."
>"I can tell. Cloud-born Pegasi usually fly much more."
>By now you are almost halfway to the exit.
>As you suddenly see a another pathway branching off from yours in a right angle.
>You take a look into it while the two of you pass the opening.
>And you come to a surprised stop.
>The way is wholly inaccessible, blocked by a sturdy iron mesh.
>You know this mesh can be lifted upon command, and you have the access to do so if you wanted to.
>But this is not what causes you to freeze.
>What you see behind the blockade is the thing.
>Your decorated taxi wagon is parked right next to a wall.
>The unit is dormant and plugged in to a wall-embedded reload station via cable.
>And there is more.
>For a certain mare with whom you have spent practically the entirety of a millennium stands right in front of the wagon, her side presented to you.
>A perfectly matching medical frame is clad around one of her rear legs.
>To reduce the strain on her body and support her joints when she moves around.
>Indicating some physical injury, though you cannot detect any visible damage from the outside.
>But despite your long history together and her current physical blemish, she is just as lovely to your eyes as she was back when you met her.
>And less than a second after you comprehend what you are seeing, #deca.mare turns her head to you.
>She smiles gently as she waves with a forehoof.
>It is the warmest sight you have seen all day.
>Even the blazing heat of the desert does not compete with this.
>Your heart skips a beat as you keep standing in place, mesmerised by what you just got to witness.
>"Thought it might help you to feel less alone in the wastes."
>You want to say something to her in appreciation.
>But Daring Do, now already five metres ahead of you, stops to see why you are no longer following her.
>She tracks your gaze.
>"Is there something on the wall, Anon?"
>You shake your head.
>#deca.mare and the wagon are still there.
>She shrugs.
>You turn your head to Daring.
"No, sorry. I thought I saw something."
>"You better don't do that down here. It's a hopeless maze without a map."
"You're right. It won't happen again."
>The adventurer moves on without another comment.
>You wait until she is looking ahead to wave quickly at #deca.mare behind Daring's back.
>Then you hastily catch up.
>The voice in your head speaks to you.
>"I apologise for the confusion."
>No, it's alright. I didn't expect you to park the wagon this closely to the supply tunnel though.
>"For them it does not matter how close or far away I am with the wagon. Even if I sang loudly behind the mesh, nopony could see or hear me anyway."
>Except you, of course.
>Never mind. But I'm glad to see your proxy is healing properly. That wound looked pretty nasty.




>"I hastened the process a little to be near you, Anon. But it will take a while until I can use it fully again. Regeneration does take its time."
>Still, thank you. It helps a lot.
>"Any time, my love."
>"Something's on your mind?"
"Huh?"
>That was not #deca.mare.
>"You look at me like you've stuck your head in the clouds."
>Daring.
>You sort your thoughts anew.
"No, just thinking about I few things. I do this sometimes when a fight is coming up."
>"Your thing. As long as you're awake when it counts..."
"Oh, I'll fight with a sharp mind, be sure of that."
>"We'll see soon enough. The exit is over there."
>Daring Do's head points at a small, artificially made crevice in the wall.
>She trots directly towards the hole.
>You silently follow Daring and watch her as she acts.
>And more importantly, how she interacts with the locked gate.
>Once there, Daring Do's forehoof reaches into the cleanly cut opening.
>She pushes something you happen to know as a terminal, which promptly emits a beep tone upon the touch of her hoof.
>Then she quickly takes a few steps back as the walls rumble softly, and a segment of the metal begins to stir and move away from you.
>It opens slowly, like a giant set of double doors.
>Revealing yet another passage that leads gradually upwards with a light curve, forming a spiral corridor all the way up to the surface.
>And a second little crevice in the wall can be seen a few metres into the room.
>"Prepare for a steady climb."
"Uhm, can't we just fly? We both got wings, you know?"
>"We can. But be careful not to crash into the door at the exit. It comes very abruptly at the end of the spiral. And you can quickly forget how high or deep you are in these monotonous hallways."
>Fortunately, you have a map and an all seeing mare on your side.
"That won't happen."
>"Alright. Then stretch your wings and let's go."
>True to her words, Daring flares her own wings and sets off in a forceful leap.
>The blow of air is strong enough to dishevel your hair.
>Daring darts along the corridor and keeps herself in its dead centre as she ascends with a respectable speed.
>And you realise that even though Daring Do is specialised in close-quarters dungeon exploration, she is nevertheless a competent flier in her own right.
>Perhaps not as good or talented as ponies like Rainbow Dash, Soaring or Spitfire, but still noticeably above average.
>So you do it like her and take off as well.
>You pick up some speed as you align yourself to the "natural" winding of the tunnel to the best of your abilities.
>And you come pretty close to her result.
>The long exercises in the proxy and your skills as a trained military-grade pilot compensate for your innate disadvantage of not possessing actual wings yourself.
>It taught you to utilise the proxy almost as naturally as your true body.
>A fact you can demonstrate right now to prove to Daring that she has not allied herself with a lame duck.




>Plus, the notification in your HUD as to how many metres you still have to fly until you reach the door, helps a great deal as well.
>Less than twenty metres away from the barricade, you start to brake your velocity to a more manageable level.
>And the moment you see Daring standing on the ground, you stop almost completely by tilting your body to flap forwards, killing the momentum altogether.
>Then you carefully lower yourself with a few precise strokes until you reach the ground.
>"Quick reaction."
"Yeah, already heard this one today."
>"How did you know before you could see the door?"
"I heard you slowing down. Doesn't take a genius to figure out why."
>For once, it seems as if Daring Do believes your words completely.
>"Well, at least it's gonna be interesting. Are you ready to head out? The wasteland is just beyond this barrier."
"Do it."
>Daring trots to the terminal and repeats her gesture.
>And so does the metal door in front of you.
>Again, the ground trembles as the doors open up.
>But instead of being greeted by the open wasteland, you see the rocky outlines of a second cave.
>Drenched nearly wholly in darkness.
>The soft light of the tunnel is barely strong enough to shine a few metres into the shadows.
"Uhm."
>"It's a natural den. Sometimes you can find a few items in here. And the highly perceptive ponies..."
>She taps herself on the chest.
>"...find a lever hidden beneath the pebble."
>It looks more like stumbling from an underground tunnel into a rat's nest to you.
"Did anyone else ever find the secret entrance? You know, one of the wastelanders."
>"Not to my knowledge."
>#deca?
>"What she said. Not a single player found the secret hidden behind a secret. It looks like a perfectly normal rock wall from the other side."
>Daring Do smiles.
>"Hope you're good at seeing in the dark. The entrance isn't so far away. Though you can trip on rocks."
>Or you simply adjust the goggles to night mode, thank you very much.
"Just lead the way."
>"Oh, and don't get startled, the door closes itself shortly after we're out."
"Alright. I'll keep that in mind."
>You knew this of course, but you also need to play a role.
>Daring Do leads you through the cave in an almost pitch black environment.
>And you quickly think that you see some faint traces of dusk light permeating the nothingness in front of you.
>That in combination with the tunnel light gives you a rough impression on your own position and where to go.
>Yet it is like Daring said.
>Without your goggles, you would have no way to check whether you may run against a boulder or fall into a small pit on your way.
>So you play the part of the blind follower and tread very closely behind her.
>Despite seeing everything clearly.
>Which also gives you a rare opportunity to see the adventurer from an exclusive close-up perspective you were never interested in, but for which thousands of her fans would envy you.




>Though you have to admire her thorough dye job, especially when she made it all herself.
>Thinking back to what the Apple family had to do as to paint Big Mac in Applejack's colours for the magic duel, it was quite a piece of awkward work.
>Even for a group of family ponies and with the drastically lowered modesty standards of Equestria.
>Yet despite your musings on this matter as you stare at Daring's bits from an almost point blank position, you too do not feel much more than a subtle tingle at the sight of a mare's rear in the wild.
>Sure, Daring is good-looking and well trained.
>You can acknowledge that for what it is.
>But dealing with ponies has become a second nature to you.
>And you no longer have a problem to see most of them nude all the time.
>At least as long as you do not have to feel up someone's private spaces and deliberately strip them while they play dead.
>That is a different level; weird form of respectful mutual agreement or not.
>Regardless though, your happy relationship with #deca.mare helps you a lot in staving off any improper thoughts involving other ponies.
>So you trot through the dark for another couple of minutes.
>Until Daring and you reach the opening to the field.
>You notice that the entrance is spacious enough to allow one of your units to drive through.
>Good to know for an "emergency taxi".
>On guard, you trot into the dimming light of the fading day, looking around and scanning the region.
>Nopony but Daring appears in your perimeter.
>So far, so good.
>The sun has almost set entirely, and you can vaguely spot the four distant buildings of the hamlet.
>Its seemingly abandoned shapes look strangely ghostly in the last fading traces of light.
>And the effect is further intensified by the thick cloud layer above, for it turns the night into a starless affair.
>Luna would hate it here.
>But you also quickly realise that it is not entirely abandoned.
>One singular speck of brightness burns in the plains near the houses.
>Like a small lit candle in a darkened room.
>A bonfire, no doubt.
>Which means your persecutors are not very far away either.
>And daring sees it too.
>"So, how do you want to do it?"
"What do you think? We'll go there."
>"Bad. Very bad. This reeks of a trap. They know that everypony around these parts must see it. I bet they're already waiting for you to come. Like a moth following the light."
>And burns in the process.
"I'd bet so too. That's exactly why I'm doing it."
>Your turn to look at Daring.
"I fight them upfront while you stay in the background. They don't know you're with me, so I'll draw all their attention."
>You pause to smile reassuringly.
"And when they've shown themselves, you strike from the shadows."
>Daring Ponders your strategy for moment.
>Then she nods.
>"Keeping me out of sight the whole time. I like that plan."
"Let's go then. If you want to say something still, do it now before they can hear us."
>She shakes her head.
>It is settled then.
>The two of you move out.




>Again, you proceed with a moderate speed while you look out for traps and enemies.
>Daring can rely on her remarkable vision and senses for the trip; the result of a life long adventurer's tale.
>Whilst you utilise your trusty technology for the exact same purpose.
>You scan the area ahead.
>Repeatedly, as to not miss anything.
>And as the two of you draw closer, you finally get a reading from your sensors.
>Four enemy signatures.
>Wait a moment.
>You silently motion Daring to hold.
>She complies, albeit eyeing you in confusion as she does.
>You point at the ground before you and draw four short lines into the dirt.
>Daring quickly comprehends your implication and nods.
>Though you do not doubt for a second that she wonders how you managed to notice this detail from several hundred metres away in the middle of the night.
>You resume your trek.
>At the five hundred metres mark, she taps your side before lifting herself into the air.
>You give her a brief salute and focus on your targets again.
>Do they know I'm here?
>"Not yet, Anon. But they do expect your arrival. I will give you a warning if one of them notices you."
>Alright.
>At two hundred metres, you have reached an advantageous firing position atop a tiny hill.
>It is not much, yet it helps you to monitor the situation at large.
>You zoom your vision in on the fireplace, fully expecting to see a trap of some sorts.
>And as expected, not a single pony sits directly at the fire.
>That would be far too obvious and clumsy anyway.
>But as you scout the rim of the light ring around the flames a while longer, you do see the silhouette of a pony head sticking out of the background.
>Expect it has no signature.
>You zoom in some more.
>And you promptly detect a bundle of cloth latched to a certain wooden pole.
>The two sleeves for the forelegs were folded to appear like a muzzle and a pair of ears from the distance.
>Clever.
>But ultimately in vain.
>You ignore the dummy trap and look at the signatures instead.
>All of them lie crouched or on the side.
>They could just as well be either asleep or waiting to bide their time.
>Or maybe a mixture of both.
>You try to see if you can get a glimpse of one.
>And indeed, you have a clear line of sight to one of the larger stallions.
>He lies very well tucked away between a bunch of rocks.
>Not well enough for your aim though.
>Okay then, get ready to rumble.
>This time it is you who appears out of nothing.
>You take aim at the pole pony, breathe in, hold, and fire.
>The released energy charge darts through the air like a flare before it impacts on the stallion's neck.
>He does not even try to stand up.
>What he does, however, is to holler shortly before he lets himself slide slowly out of his cover.
>The alarm has been sounded.
>Two of the three remaining foes spring into action immediately.
>The mare and her hammer friend rise up and get into full cover.
>Since they are aware where your shot has come from, they know how to protect themselves from further strikes.




>Interestingly though, the third, Mender undoubtedly, remains where he is.
>You cannot shoot him anyway from your current position, yet you expected him to stir a little at the very least.
>An object near the mare get encased in a glowing aura.
>Then it floats towards her and disappears behind the cover.
>She is armed now.
>And only a few seconds after the Unicorn got her gun, the hammer stallion leaves his hiding place.
>He stands tall in flickering light of the fire, presenting himself.
>Openly and trivial to shoot at.
>An obvious ploy you see through instantly.
>Because the second you fire at him is the exact moment the mare returns fire at you.
>She would only have to point at the origin of the light to seal the deal.
>No, that is too risky.
>You have no idea how proficient her aiming skills are when they are not disrupted by a wave of dirt or other means.
>So you have to be on the move instead.
>And you should not resort to flying either.
>Daring up there is, hopefully, providing you with backup.
>But the surprise works best when she remains undetected for as long as possible.
>Plus, you are sure she needs a moment to properly assess the situation as well before she can act.
>And unlike you, she has no augmented goggles that can spot things through walls.
>Her natural eyes can only do so much.
>So you have to stay on the ground to prevent your foes from looking elsewhere.
>You decide to sneak around the camp then.
>Slowly.
>Silently.
>In the hope that nothing gives your position away.
>Though you wonder why Daring has not taken out the mare yet.
>It would significantly ease the pressure on you.
>"Daring has a plan, Anon. Trust her experience. She will know when the right moment has come to act."
>Fine, but that does not help you now.
>And the stallion apparently does not want to wait much longer either.
>"As you wish, featherbrain. If you don't want to come and play with me, I will come to play with you!"
>He grabs his funny heavy hammer and begins to stride around the camp in turn.
>But always minding not to leave the saving aegis of his horned companion.
>So it remains a three on three "gradually blind" battle.
>Daring Do, #deca.mare in a supporting role via double proxy, and you, against the clown hammer stallion, the gun mare, and Mender.
>Each side lurking through the mist of the night, hoping to gain and advantage.




>With most of the participants not even clearly knowing about some of the other adversaries they are fighting.
>The teetering in the unknown goes on for quite a while.
>You and the hammer stallion wander around, Daring and the gun mare watch out from a distance, and a clandestine third on each side acts as a surprise trump card in their respective decks.
>One of which could never even hear of the other, and with said other restraining herself for more complex reasons.
>Certainly the strangest setup you have ever found yourself in.
>But the status quo has to break eventually.
>And Mender seems to be the one to do it.
>A strange thumping sound emerges from the third signature.
>Followed by a bright red light, hissing loudly as it rapidly rises up into the sky.
>You know what this means.
>The thing will soon reach a certain height and burst apart, lighting up the whole field around the camp, and taking your protective layer of darkness with it.
>And shit, Daring is up there!
>"Do not worry about her, Anon. She can deal with it. Stay on focus!"
>Right, there is only one thing you can do.
>Bolt.
>You burst into a sudden gallop, not caring if someone might notice your steps.
>It will be redundant soon anyway.
>You reach into your mind and look at the position of the gun mare.
>She is still the largest problem you face right now.
>#deca, tell me in advance when the Unicorn rears her head out of cover. I have to take her out, stat!
>"Understood."
>A loud crackling erupts above.
>Soon the dull earth is drenched in a bloody red.
>Strangely fitting, if you think about it.
>And it reminds you of your home floating amongst the stars.
>Really, the hue is normally even somewhat comfy for you.
>But now, the light only reveals your position to the enemy, while you see Daring increasing the size of her circles to evade the flare's influence.
>Damn, what is she doing?
>The hammer stallion spots you in a matter of seconds.
>"Aha! There you are, little bird!"
>Promptly making him charge you as you run.
"Oh great."
>"Keep your plan up, Anon. She will attack in ten seconds."
>You waste no time.
>Countdown!
>#deca.mare complies and counts the seconds loudly.
>Two seconds prior to the announced attack, you slither to a rapid stop and turn to her cover.
>You use the glow of her horn as an aiming aid.
>And indeed, she moves before her companion can process the situation and warn her.
>You fire two shots in the exact same second as her head suddenly sticks out from behind the obstacle.
>Which earns her a hit to the face and another to the horn.
>She actually goes down moaning loudly.
>And even #deca.mare audibly winces over the comm.
>But you pay no further attention to her and spontaneously take aim at your second assailant instead.
"Not again."
>Shot and hit.
>Target down.




>This time you can evade his body before he slams into you.
>But then you hear something flailing wildly through the air.
>It is not the stallion, however.
>You turn your head around to see what is happening.
>Though it is too late.
>Catching you off guard, a wide net made out of ropes comes flying from the side and knocks you over.
>And you get fully entangled in it in less than a second.
>Now, with you immobilised, the last remaining signature finally draws near.
>Scrap Mender casually steps into the red light, grinning victoriously.
>A weapon saddle is mounted on his back and pointing your way.
>But unlike your model, it features two prolonged barrels instead of prisms.
>And even though you cannot see it, you bet it does not have an energy cell attached to its midsection either.
>You instinctively struggle against the ropes.
>Scrap Mender laughs.
>"Stop that. I'd rather catch you alive, dear Courier."
>His saddle loads with a loud cocking sound.
>"But if you resist, well, I guess you force my hoof."
>Shit.
>What now?
>#deca.mare comes to your rescue.
>"Play along and stay still."
>Really?
>"Trust me."
>So you do.
"Fine."
>Scrap Mender's smile widens.
>"Smart colt. I'm glad you see reason. You'll bring me my well deserved..."
>At this point you no longer listen to Mender's epic monologue of beating his self-proclaimed rival.
>Because you notice a rapidly declining number on your HUD.
>It is a certain distance measure.
>"... and I hope that taught my si..."
>His speech is rapidly interrupted by a rainbow-hued cannon ball plunging from the sky.
>Daring Do's dive bomb attack strikes Mender directly in the back.
>But instead of bucking or hitting the stallion, she rather resorts to bashing him off-balance with her own weight as she forcefully latches herself onto him.
>The mare's forehooves grapple his neck whilst she presses her rear legs against his barrel, mounting him... like a horse.
>Naturally, Scrap Mender is less than pleased by this sudden turn of events, and instinctively triggers his apparatus to fire.
>Luckily though, Daring misaligned his aim sufficiently to deter his large calibre foam bullet from finding its original target by a wide margin.
>The projectile harmlessly bounces against the nearby ground.
>And Mender struggles to get the Pegasus mare off him.
>But to no avail.
>The physique of his adventurous opponent is top notch, and she is not willing to let go.
>Plus, you catch a glimpse of Daring's grinning face in the red hues of the flare.
>This is certainly not her first rodeo either.
>You are inclined to ask yourself whether you should envy or pity Caballeron when the two finally see the light.
>#deca.mare, however, brings you back to reality.
>"This is your chance."
>Right.
>That bet can be won at a later date.
>Now you must first and foremost free yourself from the net.
>So you tussle and tumble on the ground with the net whilst a similar scene is happening near you between Mender and Daring.




>For the scavenger sees very well what you are about to do.
>Yet every time he tries to direct his barrels your way, Daring shoves his head to the side or messes with his mouthpiece.
>He bucks and hops in protest to get her off, yet she sits firmly in the proverbial saddle.
>Though she has only locked him in an impasse.
>And unless she manages to break him in, which you doubt, she needs you to finish the job.
>Despite all the fun she is apparently having at the moment.
>After a minute or two of chaotic back and forth on every end, you are able to pull yourself out of the net and get back up again.
>You immediately try to take aim at Mender, though you get no clear shot.
>The merry combative dance partners are too intermingled in their little number.
>But Daring sees that you are standing upright once more.
>"About bloody time!"
>One of her forehooves lets go of Mender's neck as she reaches for something below herself.
>Scrap Mender, sensing the slight release of force, tries to break out and shoot you instantly.
>But Daring anticipated this, and "corrects" his wrong idea with only one hoof on the mouthpiece.
>Whilst her other forelimb rips something off his saddle.
>A moderately sized box is sent flying.
>And it dispenses a good number of larger foam bullets everywhere on its way through the air.
>Daring has just released him of his ammo reserves.
>"Good. Now a bite, if you will."
>Daring Do pokes and prods his back and neck to coax him towards biting down on the trigger.
>She does not even have to use much force; it is entirely sufficient to badger Mender until he does so himself.
>More minutes filled with fruitless struggling without a realistic hope of escape ensue until he relents.
>The foam flies wildly off the mark.
>And the only thing that was truly hurt in the process is Scrap Mender's poor battered and bruised pride.
>But after his little trick earlier this day, you think this is just an opportune karmic reconciliation.
>The stallion, now left de facto unarmed and trapped by two adversaries, knows that he has lost this round for good.
>Yet he fights on for as long as he can.
>You admire his pigheaded resilience somewhat.
>It does not change a thing though.
>Daring Do goes in for the grand finale.
>The adventurer steers her unwilling steed to turn around again.
>But this time she deliberately directs him to face you.
>She wants Mender to look you directly in the eyes when you launch the final blast of the day.
>And he does.
>The grin has been wiped thoroughly from his face, and you read an expression of irate bafflement in his eyes.
>Also mixed with a tiny flicker of fight that is still remaining.
>So you do not unleash the energy at once, for you think that he will try some desperate last resort move.
>Your expectations are proven to be correct very quickly, as he lowers his head and bows down.
>Not in order to pay you any respect or something.




>But rather to tilt his mounted mare in such an angle that she blocks him from your view entirely.
>Forcing you to hit Daring first before you can take him out.
>Which you do not follow through with.
>And Daring Do laughs delightfully at his attempt.
>"You're tough. But I'm tougher."
>She spreads her wings.
>"And I'll give you a lesson in flying as a parting gift."
>Her wings flap profoundly after Daring has finished her sentence.
>Then a second time, and a third.
>The pace of her beats is even and quick, but these are not the usual movements one would perform to fly normally.
>No, she uses her force as directed leverage instead.
>With which she, slowly but surely, lifts Scrap Menders neck and upper body.
>After only a handful of additional flaps, he is already standing again.
>But Daring Do is not known for half-finished jobs.
>She goes even further.
>And you let her do so, given her engagement in the situation.
>The mare hoists the frontal half of Mender into the air, forcing him to stand solely on his hind legs.
>Which looks almost as if he reared up on his own.
>Though his forehooves frantically wag in the air in front of him, failing to connect with anything.
>Then he tries to walk somewhat upright.
>And the attempts of balancing himself with only two legs maybe could have worked, albeit poorly, under other circumstances.
>But Daring keeps him where he is.
>Her wings turn out to be stronger than his already strained rear legs.
>Additionally, she provides you with an excellent target, as she presents his underside openly to you.
>So you decide to finally release him from his misery by a twin blast to his chest and stomach.
>Just to go sure.
>Mender accepts his fate and plays the role of going limp.
>And Daring promptly lifts her grip completely.
>The scavenger slumps to the ground.
>Thereby ending the fight and declaring you the victors.
>Daring Do touches the ground near the "dead" Mender, panting heavily.
>The rodeo ride must have cost her more energy than you first realised.
>But the mare's beaming face looks like she is having the time of her life.
>And you exhale a sigh of relief too.
>Simultaneously, the last flickers of the blood red flare burn off.
>Leaving only the weaker bonfire to light the scenery somewhat.
>You look at Daring, and she looks at you.
"Looting time?"
>"Looting time."
>You nod at each other.
>"Mender's yours. I have no use for his saddle."
>Neither do you, but you better take it off him before he gets some stupid ideas again.
>So you approach the stallion and loosen the barrelled saddle.
>After you have it in your grasp, you haphazardly sling it on your back without fastening it.
>You most likely dump it somewhere so that he cannot use it against you a second time.
>Probably for the best.
>And you suddenly realise something.
>The seemingly firm inhibition to plunder your adversaries has been reduced fairly quickly.




>You assume it is a by-product of almost getting tricked twice or thrice by the same group of ponies.
>Depending on how you count.
>After all, the last time you were in this situation, you did not yet know how much of a rule bender the mender is.
>Being angered in this manner does that sort of thing to people, you figure.
>Oh well.
>It is only for the duration of this game.
>And since your hands are in a way forced in this situation, you might accept it just as well.
>#deca.mare clears her throat audibly over the comm.
>"I see the spirit of the wasteland is rapidly catching up with your ideals, Anon."
"Pfft, not really."
>"And yet you now take from a pony without hesitation."
"I just don't like to get crossed or stabbed in the back."
>"The reasons do not matter as much as the deeds though."
"Eh? What are you implying?"
>You ignore Mender's twitching eyebrow as he vainly tries to understand to whom you are talking to and why.
>"What you do now is what a wastelander would do, is it not? Does that not count? Did you not embrace what the wasteland stands for with your actions?"
"Spare me the allegorical humbug. I'm still the same as ever."
>"I know. I was just trying to get you a little more into the mood of the game."
"My mood? It's fine, don't worry about that. I'm only a bit on edge because, ahem, SOME PONIES, tried to play cut-throat."
>Okay, that is enough.
>Daring and you should have unmistakably proven your point.
>Your remark will of course not discourage Mender and his group from chasing you further.
>But you felt like venting for a brief moment, given that you are entangled in this mess to its conclusion.
>No matter how chaotic things may become.
>You leave Mender lying where he is and go to the hammer stallion instead.
>His squeaky toy is yours now.
>He has nothing else on him that you could take anyway.
>So you tie the thing to your saddlebags for the time being.
>With your two newest additions to your inventory, you are almost resembling a pack mule more than a traveller.
>But that is thankfully only a temporary affair.
>Still, a pair of saddlebags plus attached hammer, and two separate battle saddles piling onto each other, are near the absolute maximum of what a pony back can carry in terms of mere space.
>You also need some room for the wings, after all.
>In the distance, close to the fire pit, Daring Do tries, and fails, to stifle an abashed snicker.
>"Oh brother."
>You spot her near the downed Unicorn mare, but you cannot detect anything special.
"What's so funny?"
>"I shouldn't laugh, but you might want to look at that."
>Not knowing what she means, you simply approach her to find out.
>When you are almost in front of the adventurer, Daring points at the Unicorn on the ground.
>She lies head first to you.
>Her jacket is gone, as it was used for the decoy head.
>She is still wearing the rest of her armour though.
>Which, without the vest, kind of gives you the impression of weird metal lingerie.




>But Daring surely did not you call you here just for that.
>So you inspect the Unicorn from up close.
>And notice a profuse blush on her face.
>Initially, you thought it could have been the glowing embers of the fire that might play a visual trick on you.
>Yet you quickly have to realise that this is not the case.
>"You've hit her horn, didn't you?"
"Yeah, so?"
>Daring laughs again.
>"So she won't get up for a good while."
"Uh, why?"
>"Think about it. I'm sure you'll get there."
>Fortunately for you, you have a mare who helps you with your thought process.
>"Anon, you are familiar with the specifics of Unicorn horns."
>That was not a question.
>Of course, you studied their anatomy for a long time.
>Horns are the most complex augmented organs of them all.
>A multi-purpose tool, connected directly to the brain.
>Which functions as energy conductor, as well as focal point, and exhaust for "magic" of various kinds.
>Apart from a certain baseline, every horn is unique in its finer fibers, as different talents involve the usage of different "spells".
>"And?"
>And their individual affinities and properties are finely tuned to reflect...
>Oh.
>Finely is the key word.
>"Yes. Your charge has disrupted her sensitive innate spell weave. Because she was levitating the weapon when she was hit."
>So the energy of your projectile mixed with her aura.
>Which deflected at least a part of the comparatively raw power back into the pony as her own spell failed.
>Meaning that you have accidentally hyper-stimulated her senses, both in the delicate horn and her brain.
>Considering how susceptible to physical and magical sensation a Unicorn horn can be, it is no wonder that you overwhelmed her.
>Her condition is not a dangerous state of health, as you have made sure that ponies are of much more robust stuff.
>But you still dealt a laying blow from which she will need to recover first.
>Literally, as you have essentially shot her out of her consciousness.
>And into a severe horngasm.
"Oh. Oh man."
>"The bit dropped, huh?"
"Yeah. I guess she's dreaming of happy prancing ponies."
>"With a blush like that? That's a bold understatement."
>Thank you for pointing that out, Daring.
"Huh, is there something we can do to mitigate that?"
>Daring Do tilts her with a sly grin.
>In this very moment, she reminds you of #deca.mare, shortly before she says something cheeky.
>"I can't."
>An awkward pause.
>"You... could. Provided you two want to marry."
>That insinuation clicks immediately.
"Not gonna happen. I barely know her."
>"Hm, really? Could have fooled me. She was happy when she spotted you."
"Uh, what?"
>"It's true. Saw it clearly from my sight above. Shortly before Mender flung that flare up high. I thought you were secret friends. Or something more."
>You shrug.
"Only met her once before. Ended much like this dance."
>You look at the bandit mare on the ground.
"But I didn't send her literally to sleep previously."




>"She isn't sleeping now either."
"What? She's awake?"
>"Sort of. Doubt she can think straight, but I'm sure she hears us."
>So she heard about Daring postulating that you two were a couple.
>While her brain is surely set in mating mode, unable to think logically in any shape or form.
>You want to melt on the spot in the face of that awkwardness.
"Uuugh. Couldn't you have said something earlier?"
>You rub your temples.
"Who the hell knows what's going on in her mind now? The suggestions could cause her to think we really are a couple! And I don't even know her name!"
>"Like I said, wasn't aware. Also, you're only making it worse right now."
>Crap, Daring has a point there.
>You examine the Unicorn again.
>The mare's blush is still strong on the features of her face.
>And she sports a grin that you can only define as intoxicated arousal.
>You have no trouble to imagine how things look like on the other end of her body now.
"Wonderful. We've got ourselves a horny Unicorn drugged on too much magic juice."
>"What do you mean? All Unicorns have horns."
"Never mind. Hope she doesn't get any dumb ideas when she wakes up though. Things like that can cloud a mind for days."
>That would actually be good for you, as it will hinder the other three.
>But on the flipside, confused Unicorns have a tendency to cause unpredictable results.
>Especially in this case.
>"Anon, I will have to talk to you about that when we are alone."
>#deca?
>"Later."
>Okay.
>In the meantime, Daring Do grabs the other mare's gun.
>"Do you mind?"
"Take it. Got enough stuff to carry as it is."
>As long as it is no longer in the possession of the four, it is a bonus in your book.
>Then Daring flies over to the net which Mender used to trap you.
>"Hm. I think I know a trick or two to delay them some more. Help me to unravel the net!"
"What's your plan?"
>"Using a technique I once used on... redacted."
>Ah, you see.
>At least someone here tries not to give too much intel away by poorly chosen words.
>Together you sit down and undo the rope net in record speed.
>Your gain is a good number of shorter singular ropes.
>"That'll do. Now we need to move the four closer together."
"Is that allowed by the rules?"
>"Technically everything is allowed, except..."
"...the goggles, yes. So I was told. But I'm unsure if it's, well, befitting."
>The adventurer blinks at you, not catching the implications of your concerns.
>"We're just binding them with a rope. I don't see a problem."
>Again, you have to remind yourself of pony standards.
>So with combined powers, you gradually realise your arduous task of dragging the four to lie neatly aligned in a line.
>Daring Do instructs you that you must lay them all down with their bellies facing the ground.
>Otherwise it will not work.
>And as expected, the four do not help you one bit in the process.
>Yet they do not obstruct your work either, so there is that.
>Mender is pretty easy to handle with the lifting power of two.




>But for a reason you do not know, his facial expression suggests that he is somewhat incensed as you drag him.
>And this in spite of the fact that Daring and you are treating him and the others with care.
>An inner inkling grows in your mind, telling you that it goes beyond the failure of what seemed like the perfect ambush.
>No, there is something else at work here.
>The mare is even easier to carry from a mere physical perspective.
>However, she keeps muttering barely coherent sentences while you move her.
>And the few fragments you do understand are so suggestive that you better discard them outright.
>Daring's insistence on taking all her remaining armour off does not help the situation either.
>Once more, your resolve to loot indiscriminately is wavering, and this time you have an evident reason why.
>But you cannot back off now.
>So there goes the  rear armour plating and the pads.
>You put the babbling marksmare next to Mender.
>"Alright. Now we tie them together."
"Pardon me?"
>Daring Do's confident adventurer mode has engaged again.
>"Take a rope. We'll wrap them to a bundle."
>You follow her request.
>And you blot out any considerations as to why binding a ruttish mare to the side of a stout stallion in his prime might be an insolent move for both of them.
>"Good. Now listen closely. We'll pack them up with a proven method so that they walk home on their own. Just do what I say and you'll see."
>Under Daring's competent instruction and with her active participation, you wrap one rope tightly, but not tautly, around the barrels of the two ponies.
>Several times in a row.
>She concludes the two pony package deal by tying the ends of the rope to a finicky knot on their backs.
>Normally that trick would not work very well when one of the victims possesses a horn.
>A simple levitation spell is more than enough to undo the thing.
>But the spell caster in question is currently occupied with very fulfilling daydreams of quite the pervading nature.
>You are fairly safe on that front.
>Though you silently wonder if Luna is also dealing with this sort of reverie.
>And if she is, you hope she never finds out that you are the one who caused her to stumble upon this particular instance here.
>For your next step, the two of you repeat the same procedure on the adjacent forelegs of the prone ponies.
>And then a similar number on the rear legs.
>The point is that they can still walk together when they coordinate their movements, but have no way to free themselves.
>Forcing them to return to their peers in this arrangement.
>Or alternatively, they keep lying until they pass out and are picked up by the med teams.
>But you consider this the less likely option of the two.
>These ponies take their roles far too seriously for such a surrender.
>After the "Mender and Mare Pack" has been wrapped for shipping back to base, you have to do the same with the two larger stallions.
>Which is essentially the same procedure from start to finish.




>Albeit significantly heavier.
>You easily need twice the time to prepare those two for their travel, but you persist.
>And as a last crowning act, Daring connects the separate bundles with each other.
>By looping a final singular piece of rope through the ones which shackle the barrels, and securing it with yet another elaborate knot.
>Further limiting their range of movement and preventing the four from doing anything else but walking in a line.
>Or stumble and fall if they fail.
>Whilst having a borderline daft and ruttish chain in their link.
>That will send a message.
>With a generous delay for you to get the hell away from your hunters before they are free again.
>For you do not want to be near their fury when their friends in the scavenger base untie your present.
>A greater call for a challenge you can barely think of.
>"There. All neat and tidy."
"Guess that means we're done. Take whatever is left if you want."
>Daring salutes before she swiftly scouts the place around the slowly dwindling bonfire with a frightening precision.
>Nobody can do it better than an adventurer.
>And she strikingly proves her mettle with her display.
>Good thing the four cannot see it from their position.
>You wave Daring goodbye and turn around.
>To wander further into the wastes.
>At least now with a useful map gained in a legit manner and some more breathing space.
>Daring shouts something after you.
>"See you in the clouds!"
>Huh?
>Another bluff of hers to mislead the scavengers, probably.
>#deca.mare confirms your suspicion.
>"Indeed, Anon. Daring will soon return to her cellar."
>And she has ample time too.
>You are not even at midnight yet.
>Which is fine for you as well.
>The longer she stays at the camp and loots the place, the longer the four are expected to remain still.
>Thinking of it, there was something that #deca.mare urgently wanted to address.
>"Not here. A bit further away."
>Okay.
>You trot through the darkened fields of dirt at a lively speed.
>Both to gain some distance quickly, and to hear what she has to say to you.
>About a quarter of an hour later, #deca.mare deems the distance to be sufficient.
>"Very well, I think it is time."
>Advanced perimeter scan.
>Nobody in range.
>You can talk.
"Something wrong? You sound like you have to say something unpleasant."
>"Not directly unpleasant, but important."
"Do tell then. I'm all ears."
>"What Daring Do said about the mare is not wrong. She was indeed looking forward to encounter you again."
"So what? They live by their scavenger codex, don't they? I bet this is covered by that."
>"You are correct in theory, but this is not the whole story."
"And why's that?"
>"How do I put it..."
"Short and blunt, please."
>"I do have reason to believe she is developing an... interest for you."
>You stop walking.
>And judging from the chill running down your spine, you think your heart tagged along.
"How the hell? We only met twice! And she lost at every opportunity!"




>"True. But the outcomes are a vital part of the matter."
"A bit more explanation, please."
>"You see, Pin Point, that is her name, has been in this place for a long time. She joined the games in one of its earliest cycles, and has found her group very swiftly afterwards."
"I fail to see the connection."
>"The connection is that she witnessed how Straight Nail and Picky Measure met their special someponies and founded families over time. Whereas she has achieved neither so far."
>Ah, so that is where the wind blows.
>Pin Point is a feisty wasteland mare looking for a stud.
"Nail and Measure are..."
>"...the two other stallions, yes."
>Leaves still number three.
"Well, but why me? She could ask Mender out then couldn't she? Or is he taken too?"
>"Not yet. But she is not on his list of potential partners. Nor will she ever be."
"Because?"
>"Because Scrap Mender is her older brother, Anon."
>Mental tilt.
>Please restart the Anon application.
>In a rush of pure hectic, you leap forwards and take flight.
>Walking does not do it anymore.
>You need more speed.
>As long as it is still night, you can keep flying in a low altitude without the risk of getting intercepted by anyone.
>And with the augmented HUD goggles and the radar, the situation reminds you almost of a homelike space flight.
>If it were not for the shadow of a undoubtedly fuming stallion out there to catch you, it may almost be relaxing.
>No wonder he was looking so sternly as you bound him though.
>You have shot and robbed his little sister in front of his eyes.
>Not once, but twice at that.
>Such a thing does not tend to be well received by siblings, game or no game.
>And to top the mockery off in one fell swoop, you turned her into a gushing mess and then bound them together.
>As a public present to their leaders.
>Not to mention the loud comments Daring made about you and her as a possible couple.
>It is a wonder he did not break the game rules to pluck your feathers where he stood.
>Or lay.
>Well, you could try to compliment his discipline, but that would make things only even worse.
>And you have a very concerning theory as you recall his last words before Daring Do dive bombed him out of his monologue.
"She was beginning to eye me before the second engagement, right?"
>"Indeed, Anon. She was first intrigued by your title as Royal Courier, and came to admire your fighting skills after you have won the first round. You have proven yourself as a wastelander in her eyes."
>Ah yes, displays of prowess and an honoured position.
>Certainly traits that pique the interest of a combative wasteland mare in search for a worthy opponent and future mate.
>But you feared as much.
"So he knows."
>"Yes. Pin Point brought it up in his presence."
>You can easily imagine the reaction of Mender.
"And in this very moment, she is dreaming of... you know."
>"Yes. She also mumbles some telling words out loud."
>Right next to her brother, with both kept in an impromptu bondage gear.




>So much for that hope.
"And just to point this out: In her current state, it's impossible to tell her I'm taken, right?"
>Please say something else than yes.
>"Correct. The hit to her horn temporarily amplifies her perceptions and feelings multiple times over. She is, quite literally, out of her mind for a few days."
>Ugh.
>"In other words, she is fixated on you and would not believe any evidence to the contrary."
"Wonderful. So in one sentence: I'm fucked, and she wants to."
>Suddenly, the thought of having a casual conversation with Princess Luna, in which you personally explain to her why a mare you know for less than a day is seemingly inexplicably dreaming wild dreams of you, appears like the less embarrassing option of the two.
>"A colourful analysis. But no, the situation is neither lost nor bad, Anon. We will reconcile the issue properly and in the interest of everyone."
"Wish I could share your optimism."
>"You have no idea what manners of strange situations you can find in here, believe me. And so far they were all solvable with civil means."
"Like shooting each other?"
>"In the context of the games, it counts as civil."
"Because it's part of the course and nobody gets hurt?"
>"Indeed. There is no true lasting bad blood in here. Mender is a 'professional', if you will. He will calm down. In time."
"It's the last part that worries me."
>"It does not have to."
"Don't tell me that mess with a lewd Pin Point belonged to your plan all along?"
>"No, but she does not thwart it either."
"That's reassuring to know."
>As long as her plan "in everyone's interest" does not involve you actually playing the role of the stud, that is.
>The response of #deca.mare is as agitated as it is swift.
>"Of course not! I would never ask such a thing of you!"
>Not that you ever believed it anyway.
>But in this chaotic clutter of a game, it soothes your nerves to hear it from her.
>Things have spiralled out of control way too quickly ever since you met Mender.
"By the way, I almost forgot."
>"Hm?"
"Why was Mender with this group already? I thought he wanted to join them tomorrow. Did he lie or leave his post too early?"
>"Actually, none of that. His relief came faster than he expected."
"But since he knew I was not expecting him tonight..."
>"...he seized the opportunity to get an advantage."
"Heh, not that it helped him much."
>#deca.mare shrugs on the small screen in your vision.
>"Such is the way of the wasteland. Oh, and Anon?"
"Yeah?"
>"I have new coordinates for your next destination. Please adjust your course accordingly."
"To?"
>"To the right. Eight degrees."
"Got it."
>You tilt your body gently to the side, and let the flow of the air around you do the rest.
>Then you stabilise yourself as soon as you are facing the new course and hope for the best.
>While you glide through the cool starless night beneath the impenetrable cloud layer.




>Soon you will have to find a resting place to get at least a little bit of sleep.
>Somewhere beneath an old tree or between a some dry bushes.
>Not exactly comfortable options for your proxy by any stretch of the imagination, but better than nothing.
>Plus, you can rest well in the knowledge that #deca.mare has her sensors up and running for you while you sleep.
>She is your guardian angel tonight.
>Like she has been countless times before.
>Warning you in advance when something needs your attention.
>So even though you have to release your control over the Pegasus proxy during your sleep, you find comfort in the knowledge that you have your mare looking out for you.
>She will protect you.
>Come the wasteland, angry scavengers, or misguided bawdy bandit mares.
>The two of you will fend them off, no matter what.

Footnote: You have gained recognition - Some ponies want to mend the hell out of you. Others want you to mend them. Either way, you want none of it. Good work!




2077.2

"Third time's the charm." - A saying, commonly spoken when something has failed twice already.

>Your last flight of the day ends round about at midnight, shortly after you have eyed a small promising oasis of privacy in the vast open game field.
>A humble collection of robust succulent plants grows out of the otherwise barren ground in front of you.
>The specimen are barely higher than a crouching pony, but their colony is luckily fairly dense and provides some decent protection against prying eyes.
>Suitable for a pony to hide in between, provided said individual lies low, and keeps perfectly still the whole time.
>That last part should not be so hard once you no longer control the proxy.
>On the flipside though, you need to find an opening that is wide enough to land in, and more importantly, which also provides some proper space for you to lie down.
>Because as welcome as the succulents are for your nightly plans, they do have the inconvenient tendency of growing spines and other jagged leaves.
>And you prefer to avoid using those as a mattress if possible.
>The potential for both regular and awkward injuries is just a little too high.
>Soon thereafter, you find an area which meets your criteria, and you promptly slow down to descend.
>Upon landing, you instinctively retract your wings and swiftly look around to find the best position inside your tiny impromptu corral.
>And after you have made sure that you do not risk to become the next laughing stock in the eyes of whatever med team or wastelander that might find you in the scrub, you carefully lower your body.
>You press yourself as tightly as possible against the ground.
>In so doing, however, you inevitably rub your underside and large parts of your legs against the dirt and mud of your natural bedding. 
>Unpleasant, but something you have to expect in a survival simulation.
>And when other ponies can lurk in their little self-dug pits to ambush others, then you will survive a night in the dust between cacti and small bushes as well.
>To your surprise though, you do not find it as uncomfortable as you have first expected.
>Heh, looks like you can still remember the experiences and lessons from the early days of Equestrian history.
>Nevertheless, you wish you could at least use your cloak as a bed sheet.
>But you need the toned down hues of the cloth to somewhat conceal your position from curious spectators who may watch from above.
>It blends better with the environment than the inherent colour palette of your proxy coat.
>So you make sure that your entire body is covered from neck to tail.
>And as the last step of the day, you pull the hood over your head.
>Then you order the proxy to lock itself in its current pose.
"#deca, I doubt you can give me an image of how I look from above, right?"
>"Not directly. The satellites cannot take any pictures, given the obstructed view due to the thick cloud layer and the considerable Pegasus activity above the field."




"Yeah, Thought so. Then give me an indirect one."
>"As you wish."
>#deca.mare generates an artificial top view image of your perimeter, based on the data available to her.
>The end result appears in your HUD a second later.
>And you see a dark, almost monochrome square blocking your vision.
>You can identify virtually nothing on it.
>But that does not bother you in the slightest.
>For it was you who worded your request this way, and #deca.mare simply complied with what you have told her.
"Neat. Now please adapt the image and show the same scene with the average light conditions during the day."
>"What time exactly?"
"Just take noon."
>The rectangle gradually lightens up as the time is set to rapid fast-forward.
>On its brightest level of light adjustment, the projection freezes.
>Now you can see her simulated depiction in all its fine details.
>The concealed resting place is set right in the centre of the created imagery.
>Your attempt at stealth merely turns out to be a mediocre one; the visual anomaly caused by the fabric of the cloak is certainly visible from above.
>But to be detected in the wide mess of bushes, dust, and debris fields that stretch all around you for kilometres, it requires somepony with sharp eyes to painstakingly scan every square metre of the ground.
>And you do not doubt for a second that there are a handful of specialists up there who are trained precisely for that purpose.
>Though, as a saving grace, you do not think they are going to stalk you at night.
>Plus, you still have #deca.mare as your last line of precaution if everything else fails.
>And true to her role, she tells you one final thing before you sign off.
>"Fair warning, there may be a small chance of rainfall tonight."
"What? And then you let me sleep out in the open?"
>"Yes. Believe it or not, Anon, but this field is the best option I can offer you under the given circumstances. Besides, even if it does rain, it will only cause comparatively light levels of precipitation. The proxy can handle this."
"That... doesn't sound very reassuring."
>"Then rest assured when I tell you that the cloak will shield your proxy from the brunt of the effect, should it come to pass."
>You are tempted to debate the issue further for the fracture of a second.
>But after this turbulent day, you eventually begin to feel tired.
>And you clearly lack the energy for a longer argument.
>#deca.mare knows this as well.
>"I understand that it does not look like it to you, but I have my reasons for this choice. A plan. You will learn all about it tomorrow."
>She takes a breath.
>"But let us go to sleep first. You need some rest."
>The weather warning remains a bit dubious to you, but the lure of the bed ultimately wins out.
>So you close your eyes and let the proxy be proxy as you cut the connection.




[Game Saved.]

>Only seconds later, you find yourself again in a homely chamber, currently floating in stable orbit around the planet.
>And you immediately head for the bed.
>To have at least a couple of hours for a peaceful slumber.
>Before the next dawn arrives at the extreme southern reaches of Equestria's borders.
>Your loving mare already awaits you in the bedroom, ready to ensure that you will rest soundly.
>An appeal you cannot resist.
>Even after more than ten human lifetimes, her effect on you is as strong as ever.
>And chances are that this will not change in the next couple of hundreds either.
>Or ever.
>As far as you are concerned, #deca.mare is your personal shard of eternal stability in a sometimes wild and chaotic cosmos.

[Game Loaded.]




>The second planetary day of your trip begins exactly like the first one ended.
>With your proxy ungracefully "parked" in the dirt, and an unfriendly grey sky above you.
>Plus, you quickly notice that large parts of your lower body are indeed strewn with streaks of muddy earth and sticky sand.
>Courtesy of idling for hours on the bare ground without any suitable camping equipment.
>But that is not all.
>Everything around you is wet.
>So your lightly groggy mind puts two and two together, and realises that the period of rainfall has been more than just an empty warning.
>A development which severely contributed to your current state of uncleanliness, as it has turned the environment into a natural slime pit.
>Still, #deca.mare's prediction was correct; the cloak has repelled most of the moisture.
>Your head, back, and sides, are almost completely dry.
>Yet the garment itself has gotten pretty soggy over the night, so at least some few droplets must have found their way through the fabric.
>Inconvenient, though bearable.
>Considering that the thing will dry itself over the course of the following hours, you can ignore that particular issue.
>However, what truly annoys you is the ground directly underneath your proxy.
>Because even that patch of land was not completely spared by the shower.
>Some of the rain water apparently flowed your way in tiny streams while you slept.
>Forming puddles near, and partially even directly at your idling proxy.
>With the obvious result that every last centimetre of the soil is drenched.
>The spot you directly lie on included.
>Causing that sort of stains which will stick to a pony coat for a long time, unless you find a way to take a bath with clean water.
>And you can imagine what the odds are to find that in the wasteland.
>An unnerved groan escapes your mouth.
>But all the complaints in the world will not cause nature to budge.
>You have to become active yourself instead.
>And in order to get at least your underside out of the sludge, you try to stand up.
>That alone would help immensely to limit the mess a little.
>Unfortunately, fate has other plans with you.
>So as you routinely rise like you have done countless times before, you suddenly lose your footing on the surprisingly slippery terrain.
>And swiftly stumble right back into the dirt, belly first.
>Ugly splatters of mud fly in all directions.
>Ultimately, your attempt to improve your situation has actually made things a tad worse.
>At least on the comfort level.
"Ugh, shit."
>"Anon? Is everything alright?"
>#deca.mare's voice.
>You grumble in displeasure.




>Less than ten minutes ago, you lay in a snug bed that is worthy of royalty.
>But then, right after you got up, you gained two extra limbs and slung yourself into the muck without delay.
>And thanks to the impressions you have gained yesterday, you knew in advance that the mission would not be a clean affair.
>Though you expected something better than this.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm fine and healthy."
>You feign a pause, as if you had to think about your next words.
"But I look like I've won the world championship in mudslinging, if you catch my drift. Is this what you consider the results of a 'light' rainfall?"
>#deca.mare treats your rhetorical question as if it were an actual enquiry.
>"I do. The Pegasi above merely vented some of their excess moisture. The accumulating pressure of the stored water grew too high."
>So they showered the wasteland in their generosity.
>Good thing that it was a colourless one, at least.
>You swallow a snarky remark and start your second attempt of lifting yourself.
>#deca.mare says something while you do.
>However, you fail to register what she tries to tell you, as you focus too much on your movements to make sure that you do not slip another time.
>And the second run fares much better indeed.
"Seriously though, wasn't there something else nearby to sleep in? Like a cave? Or a house?"
>"There are. But all of them are occupied by, shall we say, less cooperative wasteland peers. And the cave Daring returned to is too far away for my scheme."
>Plus, she would not be very fond of you complicating her life again this quickly.
>You grunt.
>"Trust me, Anon. I was not lying when I claimed that this was the best available option."
"But now I run around as a swine! In an official mission!"
>"And if there is one place in Equestria where nopony will raise an eyebrow at that, it is this playing field."
>Hm, fair enough you suppose.
>Still, it remains unnerving to you anyway, as you have to live with the dirt for the time being.
>Well, the best thing you can do is not to think about it for too long.
>And the best method to accomplish that is to get back to your business.
>You take a look at your saddlebags.
>The outer fabric is almost as soaked as the cloak.
>But what about its contents?
>The scrolls are, ironically enough, the last thing you need to worry about.
>Their precious casings are imbued with several preservation enchantments.
>What, in plain words, means that they all contain a tiny energy source each.
>Gadgets that enwrap the container in a small protective field which is able to ward off some minor environmental hazards.
>Like droplets and other smaller splotches of liquid.
>The important documents are safe and sound where they are.
>"The rest of your equipment is in a similar condition, Anon. The packages used in here are designed with that sort of problem in mind. And the weapon saddle is water-proof as well."
"So it only hit me. And there isn't a bathtub around these parts, huh?"




>Diplomatic silence is the only response you receive.
"Of course."
>The only other option you can think of is utilising the water tank inside the wagon.
>But unless you go full clandestine mode with it, that vehicle would surely draw the attention of literally everyone in the game on you.
>And not in the way you wish for either.
>Forget it, she has a point.
>The dirty cactus bed was the most pragmatic choice.
>Besides, the appearance could have its uses.
>Maybe someone will underestimate you when you look a little rugged and rough around the edges.
>And the performance of your proxy is not affected at all either.
>So, apart from your mild annoyance, there is no real problem.
>"Oh Anon, speaking of dirty..."
"Yeah?"
>"It may be better if you lie down again for a short moment."
>You blink in disbelief.
"And why, pray tell, should I do this?"
>"A Pegasus patrol will break through the clouds in the vicinity. They want to survey the area from a high altitude."
"Of?"
>"About three kilometres. They are unlikely to notice you from that height if you keep a low profile."
"Friendly?"
>"No. They are looking for equipment to 'commandeer'."
>You let out a second groan.
>Just as you have begun to rationalise your grievances away, you get asked to undo that again.
>And if you had a personal wish for wading through the grime, you would have enlisted to become a ground trooper rather than a pilot back in the day.
>But you force yourself to ignore your muddy situation nevertheless, since the gears of a professional still grind in your head.
"How many opponents?"
>"A wing of four ponies."
"And all equipped with energy weapons, I reckon."
>"Hmhm."
>So possibly a four on one.
>In a flying match with shiny projectiles.
>Not the worst odds in the world for a seasoned veteran like you.
>"I tried to tell you before you stood up, but you did not pay attention to me."
>Well, too late to change that.
>And right now, you do not yet consider her proposed option.
>If only for the fact that you do not want to lie down again.
"Theoretically speaking, would a fight work? I bet I could show them some tricks."
>#deca.mare clears her throat.
>Somehow, you think she will not agree with your musings.
>"I am convinced that you can beat them, Anon. But I recommend you not to do it."
>She pauses.
>"Especially when you feel... urged to do so simply to escape the ground. Think of the long term reactions."
>Right, but she still owes you an explanation.
"So, what exactly are you planning?"
>"A... different sort of confrontation. Which does involve the party near you. But my idea simply cannot work if you dispatch them prematurely."
"And toppling your plans means..."
>"... a longer stay in the game, yes."
>You breathe in slowly.
>Then you sigh.
"Alright, I'll do it. If you can promise me something."
>"What do you want me to promise?"
"That me wallowing in the crud is worth it."
>She replies immediately.
>"I do. Even more, in fact. I am sure that the result will be to your liking."




>And so, as a display of your trust in her assessment, you take #deca.mare's word for it and do as she asks.
>The damp ground has your not so hearty embrace all for itself again.
>"You know, this reminds me of a quote."
"No. Don't you dare quoting Rarity now."
>You hear a stifled giggle.
>"Sorry."
"Hmpf. Next you'll ask me to roll in the pit, huh?"
>"Actually, that would make for a viable camouflage tactic if it were not for the cloak and bags."
>This was not what you wanted to hear, but you let that remark slip.
>You have more important things to worry about at the moment.
>So you merely leave it at a silent reminder to yourself, noting to invite #deca.mare to a thorough mud bath in the near future when this hassle is over.
>But since you are currently made to sit in the pit though, you can at least spend the time with something useful.
"#deca, show me the signatures of the four on the HUD. I want to study their flight patterns."
>"On it."
>Four rectangular target outlines sprout out of nowhere in the upper left corner of your augmented vision.
>All displayed in the fiery red hue of designated enemies, and adorned with a little wing icon.
>Meanwhile on your HUD, a simplified three dimensional grid appears near the lower right corner.
>It depicts the flight trajectory and patters of your four opponents in the air.
>The ponies themselves are shown as little flying silhouettes, steadily maintaining a diamond formation.
>You quickly notice that the relative distance between the four rarely varies at all.
"Hm, pretty disciplined for a bunch of hobby fliers."
>"They may never have been part of any reputable flying squadron, like the Wonderbolts, but this does not mean that these ponies are not talented, Anon. And they have a lot of time to practice."
"Yeah, I know."
>However, it does not intimidate you at all.
>For you are fully convinced that your millennium of experience would more than make up for their advantages.
>Yet you heed #deca.mare's advice and let them pass unmolested.
>While you play the role of the stealthy smutty horse.
>And the patrol does not find you either.
>The squad simply moves on to the next area.
"Guess they're looking for easy targets, hm?"
>"Yes indeed. Caravans, for example. Which is why..."
>You interrupt #deca.mare.
>Because you know how this dance goes.
"Wait, don't say anything. You coincidentally happen to know a caravan that will be ambushed soon. By this very group."
>You pause.
"Correct?"
>"Partially correct. And I suggest you help out in the defence."
"Hm, I already have parts of one big shot group hunting me. Do you think it's a good idea to instantly turn another into my sworn enemy?"
>"In this case, yes. Besides, did you not play with the thought of confronting them yourself? Just a moment ago?"
>You cough.




"Fair. But it's one thing to clash with a gang, and another to openly side with their arch-rivals."
>"On the contrary, Anon. You gain more that way. If you beat them alone, you only create new rivals. But if you do so whilst helping others, you also make new friends."
>Ah, here comes the f-word.
>The key to almost everything in Equestria.
>Including the wasteland, as it seems.
>And at a first glance, her reasoning does make a great deal of sense.
>On the flipside though, #deca.mare's plan hinges on your ability to gain the trust of complete strangers within only a couple of minutes.
>Which is technically not impossible, especially amongst ponies.
>But in the tense environment created by the survival game, the deal gets exceedingly more difficult.
>The ponies out there must be more trigger happy by default, as they would surely expect no less from everyone else too.
>Really, as you have quickly learned, pointing a toy weapon at someone belongs to the good tone here.
>And it is up to you to bridge that gap elegantly.
"Oh boy. I hope your overall plan is damn good."
>"Let me put it this way. If my strategy unfolds as it is supposed to, you will deliver the first scroll within the next, hm, ten hours."
>Well, that is at least something.
>Provided of course that her plan survives the contact between the caravan and the high...air ponies.
>You scan the perimeter.
>No traces of wastelanders nearby, both on the ground, and in the air.
"Okay. Let's go. I need the coordinates."
>"Here they are. Good luck, Anon."
>The notification reaches your HUD at the exact same second.
>There is your lead.
>Including the chance to finally lift off and leave the bushes for good.
>And as you glide through the air, you notice that the wind around you feels slightly cooler than it should do.
>Clearly an effect of the damp earth that still clings to a solid half of your body surface.
>You snort in annoyance.
>The cold is not drastic, and you know for a fact that your proxy's resistance against hypothermia turns this minor decrease into a laughing matter.
>Yet you are also aware that the dirt will dry and eventually cake.
>An inconvenient sensation you are not exactly looking forward to at the best of days.
>Because you know what to expect; you have been in this situation a couple of times before.




>Only during a handful of events in the many years you have spent on Equestria, but you can still remember how alien it always felt to you.
>One of the few things you were never able to get used to in this world.
>Then again, neither was it a skill you particularly needed to get your work done.
>Until you volunteered for this delivery job, that is.
>You should have checked the address beforehand.
>Bleh, embarrassing rookie mistake.
>Anyway, now you have officially turned into the Royal flying swamp horse.
>But this is not the time for lamentation.
>After all, in less than an hour, you might already be stuck in the next firefight.
"Okay, let's do something with our flight time. Give me some intel on the ponies I'm supposed to help. Got to know what to expect of them."
>"Agreed. The caravan consists of a small band of the wasteland knights."
"The eccentric do-it-yourself gear hunters that Daring told me about?"
>"Indeed. These."
"Huh, I thought they're the hardest to reason with."
>"And they are. But I assert that a little help in, say, repelling an ambush from a rival, might be enough to win them over. For a short while."
"Long enough to deliver a golden box, hm?"
>"Precisely. But do not expect a warm-hearted welcome when they let you in. They are very proud, and one has to earn their respect repeatedly before they even consider an individual as a potential initiate."
"I don't want to become an initiate. I want to shove an expensive sun scroll into the big boss' face, tip my hat, and take my leave. No catch, no strings attached. That isn't supposed to be so hard."
>"Yes. And this is exactly what I try to arrange for you right now. But you must act humble. They can get upset very quickly for snide remarks or similar inappropriate behaviour."
"No wonder their ranks are so thin."
>"Oh, but they fare well in the games regardless. A good number of their members are amongst the top players with the finest score ratio in the entire history of the game."
>You roll your eyes.
"Yeah, I know that trick. Percental versus absolute statistics. They claim they're the best and tout their own qualities, because 'x percent of their friends are in the top so-and-so'. And then they omit that the total numbers are not stacked in their favour."
>"Number games or not, do not underestimate them, Anon. They are good at what they do."
>Judging from the straightforward tone in #deca.mare's voice, this was no joke.
>She is serious about this, so you better pay attention.
"I'll keep that in mind."
>You continue your flight and regularly scan the area around you.
>The Pegasus patrol is nowhere to be seen.
>But shortly before you are within viewing range to your target, your HUD picks up four different signals.
>Moving on the ground right in front of you.
>This must be the caravan.
>So you carefully lower your speed to a gentle glide as you wait for them to become visible.




>Once you can make their shapes out in the far distance, you focus your vision on them, and zoom in until you get a clear picture of the scene.
>And you have to look twice to process what you see.
>Three of the four ponies are clad in what appears to be... sets of heavily plated metal armour.
>But of a wholly different design than the archaic types which are commonly deployed by the Royal Guard.
>Whereas the traditionally forged counterparts are made to protect the essential areas of a pony, like the head and vital organs, these look like they encase their wearers almost completely.
>The helmets roughly resemble the shapes of pony heads, and trace the equine anatomy of their individual wearers to some degree with tough rounded platings.
>This even includes the faces, as they are neatly sealed away by the armour.
>And the protection around the body and legs follow a similar pattern.
>From the muzzle to the dock, and from the ears down to the hooves.
>Virtually every part of their bodies is protected by a series of bulky metallic pieces of an almost industrial design.
>And these heavy elements are, as far as you can tell from a brief glance, supported by a durable, yet still somewhat flexible subjacent fabric of a making you have never seen before.
>Additionally, two thick and seemingly non-transparent lenses are embedded into the "eye sockets" of the head.
>You cannot tell for sure how much a pony can see through those and what their field of vision might be like.
>But it does seem to work well enough for the knights who built them.
>If you had to judge the display in front of you in its entirety, you would say that it looks like a strangely artistic impression of three walking metal ponies.
>Yet at the same time, the constructions are kept oddly vague in their defining features.
>While it is usually fairly easy to tell mares and stallions apart due to a wide variety of factors, even when the sexual organs are not counted, the frame obscures all of them.
>Primary and secondary features both.
>You have no way to determine who exactly wears what suit.
>And you assume this is most likely a deliberate design choice.
>Then there are the offensive assets.
>All of the three ponies carry two massive barrels each, one at every side.
>The visible parts of the mechanisms closely resemble that of Mender's foam dispenser, albeit of a somewhat larger calibre.
>Thus completing the image of a pony shaped space suit crossed with a hoofed quadruped battle tank.
>Plus, you quickly realise that your HUD does not display what kinds of ponies are within the constructs.
>Though, judging by the lack of horns on the helmets, they must be either Pegasi or Earth ponies.
>And you consider the latter as the more likely option.
>Most surprisingly of all, however, is that you are able to recognise the rough composition of the metal.
>Simply due its colour and texture.
>After all, you have worked intensively with this material for a very long time.




>Slate-grey metal.
"No. Fucking. Way."
>Without a shadow of a doubt, you have just spotted a prototype variant of space vessel plating.
>Indeed, the very same substance on which the hull chassis of the vast majority of your fleet is based.
>The trio parades a de facto spaceworthy shielding around the place.
>As if it is nothing special.
>All across the outer Equestrian desert.
>And openly at that.
>You can barely believe your eyes as you stare at the walking hulls in front of you.
"What the fuck. Tell me I'm dreaming."
>"No, you are not."
>You blink once more.
"How and... eh? I think I need to pay more attention to what is happening around here."
>#deca.mare giggles lightly.
>"Which is what I suggested you to do all along."
"I mean, seriously. You gave them the formula to recreate hulls?"
>"This is the funny thing, Anon. The ponies here mostly did so on their own."
>You caught that little detail.
"Mostly?"
>"I... just gave them a little nudge to solve some final problems near the end. After they have developed the necessary techniques on their own merit, mind you."
"And when?"
>"A while ago."
>An unusually vague answer to a serious question like this.
"You should have told me before you gave them anything on this scale. Do you know what kind of repercussions that could have for the world at large? Are you secretly training ponies for space missions or something?"
>"The influence on the broader society is as good as non-existent. Most of the things that happen in this game, stay in the game. Consider, less than a percent of the populace will ever hear about this technology in their daily lives. Much less see or utilise it. And they have no use for these things either."
>A short pause.
>"Case in point, take yourself. You are the best example."
"Me? I'm not even a pony."
>"That detail is irrelevant. You are, aside from me, the best informed individual on the entire planet. And you have been active at least once in nearly all major regions in the last years, correct?"
"Uh, yes?"
>"And even you have never heard of the knights and their equipment. Not a single word. Anywhere."
>You remain silent.
>"But let us pretend for a moment that it is common knowledge. Neither the games nor the technology are strictly hidden or secret, after all. Imagine you tell some average locals in Ponyville, or Canterlot, or any other place for that matter, that there are some ponies running around in the desert with metal suits. How many of them would think that such a thing is relevant for their daily business? And could you believe that such a technology might improve their lives somehow?"
"Not many would care much, I guess. Some may be mildly intrigued, but that's about it. They're already pretty happy."
>In fact, now that you think about it, a suit of this nature would actually be a hindrance in most situations.
>Like, good luck trying to cultivate a field of crops or a flower bed while you are stuck within a walking metal exoskeleton.




>And the same applies to things like baking a cake or making a dress.
>There are only very few occasions in Equestria that might warrant this level of heavy protection at all.
>And the Royal Guard?
>Possible, but usually not necessary either.
>On normal days, the Guard is mostly tasked with arbitrating some low-key disputes between ponies, and patrolling the most important locations in the realm.
>Hardly anything for which their traditional garb is not sufficient.
>And for the really large incidents that are above the average guard ponies' league, like an overeager changeling queen on an invasion trip, or a dark Unicorn wizard who likes terrorising the far north, well, there are more harmonic tools at Equestria's disposal.
>The only thing the suits could be somewhat useful for, are days when the guard has to move out as a emergency reaction force.
>In case of a swarm of Parasprites roaming through a village, for instance.
>Though even then, they are most likely an overkill option.
>Equestria has no need for a heavily armed and armoured fighting force of ponies.
>As such, this discovery means very little.
>This is not that kind of planet.
>And both #deca.mare and you make sure that no one in this world has to worry about extraterrestrial threats of any kind either.
>So you conclude that, the way things are, you cannot even be angry with her.
>After all, she offered you on multiple occasions to at least give the game a chance.
>But it was you who refused her proposals again and again.
>"Besides, the players are nowhere near perfecting this knowledge. The composition of the metal is not fully consistent yet, and hence of highly varying quality in every individual piece. Plus, the suits are not wholly sealed either, despite having a system for internal ventilation."
"Meaning?"




>"Meaning that the suits could, potentially, be used for space exploration with a few modifications. But right now, they are not useful. And I will not force that upon anypony. What you see here is more of a curiosity, made by a group of hobby tinkerers in their extensive leisure time."
>You pause.
"#deca?"
>"Yes?"
"Is there anything else you kept secret?"
>"I did not keep a single secret, Anon."
"You know what I mean. Are there any... other technological surprises you... did not happen to inform me about?"
>"None. There are some gimmicks stored in the Unicorn bunker, but they rarely see the light of day."
"That's all? Are you sure?"
>"I am. No need to worry, Anon."
>You slowly draw closer.
>And as you do, you thoroughly scan the three suits with your goggles.
>The data you acquire is relatively limited, but the findings tell you a few key things.
>First, you can confirm that #deca.mare is right about the metal.
>The plates are not evenly refined, and a number of striking fluctuations on the surface can be easily spotted by a conventional routine scan.
>Second, they lack any decent means to regulate or maintain the temperature.
>So apart from decompression, whoever may try to use this frame in space will likely freeze solid within minutes.
>And you wager it is a good thing for the knights that the Pegasi are surely unaware of this fact.
>Because if they were, they could easily make the oh so great players sweat like hell by simply dissolving the cloud layer above their heads.
>After your own desert trek yesterday, you bet it would not take long for the metal walkers to voluntarily strip themselves under the sun.
>Truly, the source of their pride is in reality merely a number of rough prototype armour suits that can still be improved in a lot of ways.
>Though you are not going to say that to their faces.
>And to be fair, it is impressive that a handful of ponies could, more or less, recreate the formula for ship hulls with almost no external help.
>But much to your surprise, the news do not end there.
>The sensors register a lot of energy pulses within the suits.
>Upon closer inspection, you detect unusual signatures within the helmets, and some of the leg joints.
"#deca, what the hell is in those things?"
>"The helmets are equipped with a crude HUD 'enchantment'."
>Holy crap, they have that kind of thing here?
>Your perceived advantage dwindles right in front of your eyes.
>That feature alone makes them more dangerous than any band of merry raiders.
>Perhaps you spoke too early when you mocked them.
>"Though the knights have a different name for it."
"So the same deal as with the energy cells. And the legs?"
>"Optionally usable, servo-supported joint movements. Oh, pardon me, 'magically enhanced armour joints'. Made to mitigate the additional weight of the heavy frame. They can be activated and gradually regulated at will by the wearer."
"Seriously?"




>"Their energy capacities are relatively limited though, and the knights use them sparingly because of that. But you would be astonished to see what top speed these suits can reach in spite of their mass."
>You picture a fully laden cargo train chugging along some rails.
>And a collision with that in full swing would be rather unhealthy to say the least.
"Yeah, not going to test that."
>You check the distance to the knights.
>With your current speed, you still have a couple of minutes before you are in a critically close range.
>So you consider what else you should ask #deca.mare on your way to the boastful equine metal cans.
"What about the armour itself? It does more than just looking fancy and getting fast, eh?"
>"Hmhm. It does indeed provide additional protection, as every projectile which impacts on a plating does not count as hit towards the pony inside."
"Totally not overpowered. How do you fell one then?"
>"Like every other opponent. Shoot them until they drop."
"Just to be on the same page, you mean shooting through a space ship hull. With foam and rubber, yes?"
>"Yes and no. You see, the HUD has an additional function, next to improving the vision of the wearer. It simulates the 'health' of the armour. And every time a piece has soaked up a 'lethal' amount of damage, the section automatically pops out of the frame. Striking the bared body part of the pony beneath then counts as a regular hit."
>Okay, you absolutely do not want to make a space walk with one of these things.
>Ever.
>But again, you notice a few interesting key words.
"So, lethal means whatever is necessary to 'kill' a wastelander, right?"
>"Correct."
"And my magical mystery cannon? Does the one-shot-fits-all rule work here too?"
>"It does apply. One hit disables an element."
"Good to know."
>You may not plan to fight a knight now, but this could one day prove to be a vital sliver of information.
>And you start to slowly grasp the implications behind Daring's words about the highest fighting power per member.
>Not much longer until they should notice you.
>You use the final moments to study the last member of the group.
>The fourth pony is, by far, the most unremarkable of the group.
>A harnessed pale male Unicorn who pulls a spacious wagon, filled with all manners of different items.
>And unlike the other three, he wears no heavy armour at all.
>Instead, he features a finely woven, deep blue monk's cowl that stretches over vast parts of his body.
>Only his face plus horn, as well as his hooves are visible.
>Also, you detect no weapon on him.
>The stallion is not only restrained, he is also entirely unarmed.
>And if he were not the one to pulls the wagon, one might be tempted to overlook him outright.
>Something is off about that.
"Who is this? Some kind of servant?"
>"No, he is a full member of their group."
>Which, after what you could find out about this gang so far, does not bode well.




>But you have to postpone your ponderings, as one of the "heavies" turns his head and looks your way.
>"They detected you."
"I know."
>Unfortunately, the bulky helmet between you and your opponent prevents you from reading any facial expressions.
>So you cannot read their mood at all.
>"No problem, Anon. Use your disadvantage as an advantage."
"How?"
>"They do not perceive you as a threat because you are alone. So fly slowly and low. And try not to escape from their range of fire. Act normally, and wait for a sign."
>What kind of sign?
>You get your answer from one of the ponies below you.
>An armoured hoof rises into the air.
>A greeting, as it seems.
"Huh that doesn't look so eccentric yet."
>You mirror the gesture and aim to land a couple dozen of metres away from the group.
>Then, you walk the rest of the way to the four on land, as to not cause any unfortunate misunderstandings.
>The knights are clearly in the dominant position, so you cannot afford to make any mistakes.
>"Remember Anon, stay polite and formal. Use your cards wisely, offer some goods, and you should be able to bargain a temporary admission to enter their base. Try to appeal to their sense of chivalry if everything else fails."
>You are too close to the ponies now to audibly talk to #deca.mare.
>Any more recommendations, #deca?
>"Play the act of a humble Royal Courier who delivers a message from his Princess to their Elder. And if they 'offer' to take the scroll for themselves, you must, politely, decline the request."
>Because no good Courier would ever forfeit documents like that.
>"Indeed. Calmly insist that you have to give the message over in person. In the most courteous tone you can muster."
>Oh man, this will be a slaughter.
>"Yes. It will either way. But in an ideal case, it is a different Pegasus actor who causes the confrontation."
>Right, the whole ambush thing is a problem too.
>The four ponies calmly wait for you to come, six large barrels pointing in your direction in the process.
>Individuals without your level of military training might lose their composure right then and there.
>Even in the context of a harmless game, staring down into their depths has an imposing effect on the mind.
>But years in space, and around capital ships with dozens of house-sized turrets, seasoned you in this regard.
>So you slowly approach them without fear.
>Yet you try to keep your expression neutral.
>Too much serenity might be interpreted as cocky.
>Which equals bad outcome.
>The pony at the front motions you to halt at a range of about five metres.
>All eight eyes are trained on your proxy, although you can only see two in turn.
>And a faceless masculine voice speaks to you.
>"Greetings, esteemed commoner of the wastes! You have been summoned to stand before the Knightly Order today!"
>So the speech patterns too.
>Alright.
>You take a brief breath before you answer.
"It is... an honour... to be in the presence of such noble knights."




>You must resist the urge to roll your eyes as you speak.
>The four, on the other hand, seem pleased so far.
>None of them shouts or fires at you, at least.
>And you see that as a good sign.
>Though you have no doubt that the four study you, and your gear, very closely.
"What can a... common traveller like me do for the order today?"
>Again, only the stallion at the head replies.
>"Why my little pony, glad that you ask! Our bands are looking for new material to further our glorious cause! And you have the venerable opportunity to do your part and contribute to it!"
>Uh huh.
>Sounds like an opener of a street robbery to you.
>"And as a token of our generous appreciation of your devotion, you will receive an equitable recompense in bottle caps. For your pleasure."
>Hold on, what?
>Was there something to Pin Point's little satchel of crown caps after all?
>#deca.mare chimes in.
>"Some groups use it as a currency instead of bits."
>Ah, like the scrap gang.
>You wonder whether mister iron pony over there thinks you are one of those scavengers.
>Regardless, you need to formulate a generally broad, but simultaneously meaningless formal expression of gratitude for this "privilege" while you carefully choose your next words.
"Certainly, I would feel flattered to be of use to a... righteous agenda like yours."
>The ponies still only look at you.
>No remarks, but also no shots.
>Okay.
>So far, so well.
>But you frantically think of an elegant solution to steer the conversation in the way you want it to go.
"And I do have some goods to tra..., ahem, to commit."
>You clear your voice.
"Though, if your noble donation could find its way to me in a different form, it would be very much appreciated."
>Now the four begin to look at each other.
>And you can feel the confused stares radiating through the helmets.
>"What could a humble peasant of your standing want more than hard caps? It is all you need to pursue your frivolous desires."
>The pony at the front looks down and musters your not quite so pristine coat.
>"Although on second thoughts, perhaps you really do not need monetary commodities for your interests."
>Fuck you too.
>You smile politely and banish any openly vulgar notions into the back of your mind.
"You are correct, oh noble knight."
>Careful, they could smell sarcasm.
"My... 'desires' have indeed very little to do with pure money."
>"And what is it then, commoner?"
>You cough.
>This could be rough.
"I was thinking of a... right to passage through your lands. I wish to talk to your..."
>What was the term #deca.mare used?
>Oh, right.
"... admirable Elder."
>Again, certain quizzical looks hidden behind unflinching helmets are exchanged between the three.
>"Methinks you do not grasp the size of your request, little one. The High Elder is a busy pony, and has no time to entertain the concerns of the rabble."
>Well, you could see that one coming.
>And what is the deal with everyone belittling you in one way or another?




>Did someone put an idiot sign on your back when you were not looking?
"But I am willing to pawn a good deal of assets for this one opportunity. See the barrel saddle and the hammer on my back? Are they not worth a single good word in my favour?"
>"Your battle saddle and the squeaky sledge are in good condition, but quaint baubles nonetheless."
"Really?"
>"A commoner like you may not understand this, but these weapons are mere surplus gear in the eyes of an ascended knight. Rest assured, no pony in our armour would be seen with anything lesser than a super squeaky sledge when they trade blows with an enemy."
>Whatever that is.
>Maybe it has more colours than the regular clown tool.
>Anyway, you do not fail to notice a little discrepancy in what the "honourable" knight says, and what he actually does.
>After all, why would he and his caravan willingly pay you for gear that they allegedly regard as junk?
>That does not make any sense.
>Unless he deliberately tries to make them seem less valuable than they really are, of course.
>In other words, he tries to skew the price to lower the recompense.
>That way he can present himself as noble while actually being a cheapskate.
>But your request to gain a temporary passage to their bunker has complicated that strategy a little.
>He could easily reduce the number of total caps he pays, but altering your wish is not quite as easy.
>You just hope he does not get the idea to ask for a payment per kilometre or something.
>But as you think about this, your trading partner is hard at work to blatantly hammer the point further.
>"And the saddle, well..."
>The stallion slightly tilts his body to let the massive barrels on his sides sway right before your eyes.
>"... as even you can clearly see, a simple saddle cannot compete."
>Yes yes, dick waving contest.
>And here you thought stallions would have no need for those.
>Then again, the mares in their order will surely not act much better towards outsiders either.
>"Besides, do you think our prime bastion, our beloved home, is a place you can enter on a whim? What if somepony wants to lay bare its inner workings? To expose our magnificent expertise to the ruffians in the wastes?"
>Then you would ask your wife and get all the information you want in thirty seconds or less, dear Knight of the Tin Order.
>"No, we cannot allow this."
>We will see about that, now will we?
"Ahem, let me assure you that I have no interest in spying you out. In fact, to be entirely honest with you, I do not operate within the power structure and politics of this place."
>Direct and bold, but perhaps it helps.
>"Oh, is that so? You do not look like somepony from the 'outside'. And the word of a commoner does not have much value to begin with. I am sure you understand."
>Yes, you like playing the prick.
>And now to the card #deca.mare has given you.
"I see. But what about the word of a Royal Courier in the service of Celestia and the Equestrian diarchy?"




>The instantaneous reward for your sudden reveal: Four tilted heads.
"There is a scroll in my possession. I shall deliver it to your Elder."
>"So that is within the four casings."
>What?
>That suit also has a scanner?
>The stallion, however, gets directly to the point.
>"In this case, turn the scroll over to us. We will take it to the High Elder in your name. If you say the truth, that is."
>At that, you follow #deca.mare's second advice and shake your head.
"I can't do that. When I was given the mission, I vowed to the princess that I deliver the scrolls in person. It is part of the Courier's Code."
>Which is technically bollocks, as long as the message safely reaches the correct addressee, and only this addressee.
>The details of the how and who are not so strictly defined, as long as the job gets done properly.
>But, according to #deca.mare, he should buy the reasoning behind your refusal.
"And so, I have to decline this proposal. As noble as its intentions are."
>A second metal can pony speaks up.
>With a distinctively feminine voice.
>"This is the first commoner who rejects our gracious offer like that. Perhaps there is a grain of truth to his words."
>But the stallion does not agree with her comment.
>"We cannot know that. For all we know, he could be a brash spy and nothing more."
>The knights openly have their conversation right in front of you.
>And the trio completely ignores the fact that you can hear every word loud and clear.
>Spy or not, it really tells you how much of a perceived threat you are to them.
>And a younger version of yourself might have had a bruised ego now.
>Oh well.
>The third encased pony chimes in.
>"All the others got scared though. We got them to give us their stuff at an underprice before they ran. This one doesn't behave like those petty scavengers."
>Another female, albeit with a noticeably rougher voice than the first.
>And she called you petty, huh?
>Says the mare who literally admitted to ripping off ponies just one sentence earlier.
>Okay, right then.
>So much for the high knightly standards.
>The stallion looks your way again.
>"We demand that you show us the scroll."
>We?
>He states that in the name of the whole group, even though you could witness firsthand that he took the liberty to make up the demand on his own.
>Yet neither of the two mares, nor the stallion at the wagon, bothers to comment on that.




>They have apparently no objection to his practice.
>And if Daring's reports are accurate, you can count on their cohesion as a group to be absolute when an unremarkable outsider like you is opposing them.
>However, you remain steadfast.
"No can do. The scroll explicitly addresses the Elder."
>You think you hear a faint gnarling sound from the stallion.
>"We can take your belongings with ease if we want to, little one. You are foolish to reject the caps. And as you would do well to know, meeting us means that you are amongst the few lucky ponies. Not everyone in our Order is as merciful to outsiders as we are."
>Something clicks loudly inside the suit, and the pony strikes a charging pose.
>"And even our noble grace has limits."
>To hell with it, you play the role.
>If there is a time in your life to act unashamedly cheesy, it is now.
"Then I go down with my honour as Courier intact. But I will not forfeit my mission."
>You fall silent and simply stay upright, fearlessly facing the three massive pony frames in front of you.
>And they stand steadfast as well.
>Although the six barrels on their end make it a lot easier for them to remain confident.
>You wish you could see their faces now.
>It would help tremendously to read the mood here.
>Eventually, the tense situation relaxes somewhat, as the stallion at the head ceases to face you in his offensive stance.
>"Very well. You are at least persistent. That is a respectable feat, even when it is shown by a.... wanderer... dressed in a lowly mantle and crusted filth."
>Up yours.
>"Still, that leaves us at an impasse. We have no reason to trust you."
"Not even when I part with some of my gear?"
>"Commoner, that is a matter of course. And your willingness to cooperate so eagerly may be commendable, but it is nothing special."
>You ask yourself if these guys are related to Trixie, or if they are merely playing their egocentric act that damn well.
>"The latter, Anon."
>Neat to know, yet not exactly helpful.
>You need to find a constructive solution for this encounter.
>And while mentioning your title tempted at least two of the four to consider your words for a brief moment, there is much more work to do.
>So you decide to drop the big bomb onto the arena.
>Your mind reaches out to #deca.mare.
>Show me the flight squad's signatures, #deca.
>I know they must swoop down any moment.
>"Understood, Anon."
>The four outlines reappear on your HUD.
>However, they no longer form a cluster.
>The squad has split into two pairs instead.
>One duo hides somewhere in the clouds to your west, a good bit away from your current position.
>They could reach you in a couple of minutes if they rushed though.
>And the second team hides at the same altitude.
>Albeit directly above the wagon.
>Oh damn, high time to get started.
"And what if I can help you with... something else?"
>"For instance?"
"For instance, with some other information that you could be interested in." 
>No response.




>They are waiting for more.
>So you give it to them.
"As a sign of good faith, I'd gladly share some intel with you. No strings attached."
>A hearty laughter bellows out of the suit of the rougher mare.
>"Hah! What could you possibly have heard of that we don't know about?"
>And the stallion shows some signs of renewing impatience too.
>"Get to the point."
>With pleasure, friend.
"Well,..."
>You look at the sky, seemingly in thought.
"During my... morning routine, I spotted a wing of Pegasi flying high in the clouds. And if I read their patterns right, they could try to intercept you."
>Though as you say this directly, you wonder how four Pegasi are supposed to beat this display of might.
>Sure, Pegasus flight teams have an unquestionable air superiority against these foes.
>But the knights are no easy targets from what you can see.
>A ridiculously heavy setup like this will surely resist fiercely and put up a defensive fight until the very end.
>Like Mender on steroids.
>But with less rodeo, probably.
>And the knights fall dead silent in the aftermath of your speech.
>Unnervingly silent in your opinion.
>All eyes are locked onto you now as if they were cemented.
>This much becomes very clear, despite their heavy helmets.
>Even the Unicorn who did not speak a single word to you, or anyone else for that matter, is listening intently.
>The mood changes rapidly as the situation grows ever more tense.
>And after a few stiff seconds of nothingness which feel like an eternity to you, the first mare finds the inspiration to point out what surely all of them must think right now.
>"Pegasus, if that is a threat..."
>You plainly interrupt her.
"No. This no threat of mine. But it's also no joke. I've seen four Pegasus ponies flying in a diamond across the sky. They can't be far away. And with no other group nearby who might be of interest to them... I guess you know what that means."
>The stallion growls.
>"And who says it was not you who led them here? You could be one of them!"
"A simple truth does. They'll shoot at me just as well."
>You pause shortly to let that sink in.
"As I said, I'm not affiliated with any faction in the wasteland."
>The knights observe their surroundings, predominantly the sky, and look for any clues which may indicate that you might be right.
>Interestingly, the Unicorn keeps watching you whilst the others are busy.
>But the wasteland is quiet.
>Perhaps a little too quiet.
>"See anything?"
>"No, you?"
>"Neither."
>In the ensuing hectic search, you observe two things at once.
>The first is the group of four alerted knights in front of you.
>And the second is a sudden change high above your heads.
>The sky ponies are on the move.
>Downwards, with a frightening speed.
>You wager they must have realised that their plan was somehow revealed, and therefore decided to strike immediately.
>But several things about this strategy bother you immensely.




>For one, why do they take this risk, now that their opponents are expecting the encounter?
>And what baffles you even more, what do only two ponies hope to achieve by fighting against four better equipped and ready opponents?
>You miss a puzzle piece, and you need to find it in the next minute or so.
>#deca, real life image of the attackers, now!
>Knowing that time is critically short, she skips the usual verbal confirmation and just projects the requested image onto your HUD.
>It shows nothing.
>Except open clear sky with a minor visual distortion.
>And you have utilised enough portable stealth units to recognise that signature.
>An extremely rare sort of enchantment in all of Equestria, as only a handful of Unicorns manage to master the related spells at all.
>Not to mention the time and effort it takes them to build even a single small wearable stealth device that can be used by others.
>Seeing one is already a rarity.
>But here, you see two in action simultaneously.
>And both are used against the ponies you are meant to help out.
"Oh, crap!"
>You waste no time and warn your newfound "friends" of the impending danger.
"They're invisible! Coming right at us from above!"
>With this new information, you expect all of them to look straight up.
>But instead of doing that, the canned stallion looks over to the Unicorn.
>"Throw up the net!"
>The pale pony in the harness mouths some unspoken phrases.
>You have no idea what he tries to convey, but you can see the result all the same.
>His horn starts to glow in an almost ghostly bright aura that mirrors his faintly aquamarine eyes.
>And whatever emergency spell he is building up, it happens not a moment too soon either.
>Because a pair of winged ponies appears seemingly out of nothing, only a few hundred metres above.
>The two Pegasi go in, guns blazing, and with no holds barred.
>A deluge of shining rapid fire projectiles is coming your way before anyone else has the chance to react in any meaningful manner.
>Spelling certain doom for both you, and at least the unprotected Unicorn.
>Or so it would have been.
>If it were not for a number of slim beams that emanate from the horn of the robed pony.
>Each pale ray of light precisely intercepts one energy charge, which promptly dissipates upon contact.
>The entire storm evaporates before even one particle reaches the ground.
>And by the time the charges do reach you, they have all turned into nothing more than puffs of slightly warmed air.
>You blink as you watch the spectacle unfold in less than two seconds.
>And your brain struggles to comprehend what you have just seen, whilst the winged ponies above you cuss audibly.
>#deca, explanation.
>Are we dead?
>"No. The shots count as neutralised charges."
>So that is what the Unicorn is good for.
>You suddenly understand why he is pulling the wagon, and why only two Pegasi flew ahead for a surprise attack.




>They wanted to take out the pale stallion in a stealth run, as they realised his strategic value for the group.
>If they were successful in their attempt, the caravan would have lost an important defensive asset, tipping the odds significantly in favour of the ambushers.
>But your intervention has thrown a wrench in their plan.
>Meanwhile on the field, you get to see the result of your actions.
>Guarded by the living defensive grid in their ranks, the heavy trio prepares for a suitable measure of retaliation.
>The knights level their saddled barrels at the flying ponies with a remarkable display of agility that you would not have expected from these suits.
>Then they wait for a good opportunity to strike.
>And the right chance is practically guaranteed to come.
>Given the steep angle from whence they shot, and the drastic downward trajectory, the Pegasi are virtually forced to slow down and turn around.
>Even with their augments and remarkable stability, you doubt that the Pegasi would dare to risk a crash with such a breakneck speed.
>So it comes the way it has to come.
>Once the two fliers alter their course to prevent an unpleasant snuggling session with the ground, the knights open fire in turn.
>You hear some inner mechanisms working in the suits as the triggers are pressed.
>Larger rubber projectiles, about the size of a squash ball, are slung out of the barrels with a loud thump.
>Much to your astonishment, the bullets are fast enough to catch up with at least one of the two Pegasi.
>Only a singular ball makes contact with the winged mare and bounces off her back, but considering the size of the calibre, it is fairly obvious that the damage of a real round would have been devastating.
>And the mare acknowledges that as well.
>She fakes a yelp and stops her attempt to evade and retreat.
>Accepting her fate, she slowly descends to the ground in a somewhat orderly fashion, simulating a controlled crash landing without any bruises or other injuries.
>The second Pegasus, seeing what happened to his peer, hastily flies evasive turns and rolls like mad to avoid the same fate.
>As an experienced flier yourself, you can tell that some of his moves are indeed worthy of a stunt flier.
>Perhaps he would even be military material, if there were such a dedicated force in Equestria.
>The knights seemingly notice that too.
>For they do not unleash a second volley upon the stallion.
>They merely trace his movements with their barrels to let him know that half a dozen bullets are pointed at him, no matter what stunt he tries.
>And so the attacker swiftly comes to the only logical conclusion.
>He veers off and disappears.
>Why did they not shoot him down though?
>It would have meant more loot.
>#deca.mare responds to that.
>"To save ammunition. Their weapons pack a powerful punch, but their magazines are relatively limited due to the calibre. This is why knights tend to prefer conservative doctrines."




>They could collect the flung balls after the fight though. It is not like there is something standing in their way after they have won the battle.
>A coy laughter sounds over the comm.
>You know this cannot be good.
>"About that."
>What is it?
>"Let me just say that the knights know their foes and the enemy strategies a little bit better than you."
>Translation, please?
>"Scan the sector, longest range."
>You adjust the systems inside your goggles and scan at maximum capacity.
>It takes a few seconds until the information is fully processed.
>But what you find makes you glad that your proxy did not have a breakfast this morning.
>Eight new red squares have joined the two remaining signatures above the clouds.
>If the stallion groups up with them, you are going to face an eleven to five.
>With that magnitude of combined firepower, the Pegasi could pick the caravan apart piece by piece if they focus their attacks properly.
>You doubt that even the impressive defence spell of the Unicorn can save them from that fate.
>Not to mention that the knights are most likely not armed with enough rubber balls to down such a swarm of hostiles.
>They are bound to run out of ammo, sooner or later.
>And to confirm your fears for good, the distance between the flock and you begins to dwindle.
>The hunt is on.
>Yet you are no longer sure who is hunting who anymore.
>One thing is clear though.
>You are nowhere near the apex in here.
"Oh. Hell."
>A knight steps up to you as you say this, though you are not sure who it is until she talks to you.
>It is the rougher mare.
>"I guess you've just spotted their quick reaction force, didn't you?"
>You let your jaw drop.
"You knew this was coming?"
>"Did you seriously think they'd attack us with only four ponies, and in split groups?"
"Uh, yes?"
>She heartily laughs at you again.
>"Alright! Now you've convinced that you aren't with them! Your naivety is delicious!"
>Yeah, thank you very much.
>And you just remember something that Daring mentioned.
>The Pegasi cloud teams are a highly mobile faction.
>So of course they can rapidly move their forces around.
>"Seriously, you should have expected that. The Pegasi are featherbrain commoners, but they're no complete imbeciles. For the most part."
>You flare your wings to hint at something.
>But the mare ignores the obvious cue and is apparently not aware of any blunder on her part.
>She pats you on the back instead.
>"Maybe you get a chance to prove your worth to us after all if you fight well, Courier!"
>It is only a moderate bump, but thanks to the servo support of the joints, the metal clad limb has enough force behind its swing to make you stagger.
>The saddle you have pilfered from Mender falls off your back.
>Well, it would have dropped in an air fight anyway, so there is that.
>But hearing the knight laugh as you stumble a few steps to the side tells you that she enjoys toying with you like this.
>"Heh, dainty."




>She inhales deeply.
>"You know what, I am in a good mood. So how about this? You survive this day, and I'll consider to speak out in your favour. Provided you ask nicely like it befits an outsider of your rank, of course."
>You remain silent and just look at her.
>Should her behaviour really be just an act, as #deca.mare claims, then you bet that the metal mare is smiling widely behind her helmet right now.
>She reminds you a lot of a younger #deca.mare, back when she had merely six hundred years of life experience under her belt.
>That young lady had similar streaks of cockiness sometimes.
>And of course, mostly when you could need it the least.
>"Well, Dainty? What do you say?"
>Hold on, that was a serious offer?
>#deca.mare chimes in.
>"Yes, it was."
>You take a breath.
"Deal. But I'm not 'Dainty'."
>"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, Dainty Daisy. It sounded too plebeian."
>You grit your teeth.
>Here is the offer you have been waiting for, yet she wants you to play ball to earn it.
>And considering that you are stuck with them in the coming fight, for better or worse, it is the best opportunity you will get.
>So you take that little quip for what it is and do her the favour.
"My... humble self would be... delighted... to accept these generous conditions."
>And the mare actually nods.
>"Good enough, Dainty."
"My name isn't Dainty though."
>"It is from now on. Until we have decided otherwise."
"And when is that going to be?"
>"When you have shown your mettle. Or never if you don't."
>Oh wonderful, a new nickname you did not ask for.
>"Besides, don't you think it is fitting for your mud loving rump? You look like you were stuck in the dirt like a, well, daisy."
>A small, perhaps silly part in you wonders whether it could be #deca.mare who is secretly inside that suit, just to tease you a little.
>You promptly get a comment over the comm channel.
>"This is nonsense, Anon. As you can hear, I am right here."
>Right, #deca.
>And surely, there is absolutely no way for you to work at two places simultaneously.
>That silly notion is wholly impossible.
>"Less sarcasm, and more focus, please. You need to have a clear head now."
>Fair point.
>Despite the levity in the knight's actions, the situation is dire for them.
>And for you by association as well.
>It gradually dawns on you that your limited intervention so far could have never been enough to salvage anything.
>You have merely prevented the confrontation from turning into a one-sided slugging fest.
>But you have to actively fight for the knights nevertheless.
>With their Unicorn saved from the ambush, and you by their side as the only potential flier in the air, the overall odds are stacked far less against them.
>Yet they are still very far from being even.
>Clearly, #deca.mare knew this in advance.
>Which is why she has deliberately put you in this position, you assume.




>"I did. Consider this, Anon. If you help them out successfully, you have gained the trust of the least cooperative faction in one difficult encounter. Winning against all hope is what they respect the most."
>Yes, but eleven to five?
>You will have to pull every single trick as a pilot out of your proverbial hat to survive this one.
>Especially since you are the only member of your team who can fight airborne.
>If you can even call it a team.
>Good grief, you should have brought more proxies to control for a massed encounter of this scale.
>#deca.mare addresses you again.
>"No worries. There is no need to breed your own private army of avatars for a little tussle."
>Little?
>"Little indeed. Because I have devised a strategy for the fight, if you are interested."
>You must be joking.
>Give it, now.
>"Of course, Anon."
>A screen of text forms on your HUD.
>And as you watch how the knights prepare themselves for the inevitable encounter with one eye, you quickly skim over the proposal text with the other.
"Oh man, that's complicated."
>"What's complicated, commoner?"
>Damn, the armoured stallion thinks you meant him.
"Nothing."
>"Already frightened by your winged peers, Dainty?"
>This time you cannot suppress a grumble.
>The four ignore your indirect protest against your new title, however.
>Looks like the name is here to stay.
>And you try to shrug it off as you turn around to take a look at the eleven red squares.
>The group is en route to plunder some ponies.
>And from this long distance, they are still hardly visible in the murky sky.
>At least for a casual viewer.
>For their shapes barely form a contrast to the dull grey cloud layer above them yet.
>But even without zooming in on them with your augmented vision, you just know that their faces are beaming with anticipation.
>As they ride in on flapping wings, prisms glistening readily on their barrels.
>This will be a tough cookie.
>Even with #deca.mare's plan.
>You have to think back to the flight through the Ghastly Gorge in the show.
>"Anon?"
>Yes?
>"I can play the song if you want to."
>Yeah, no.
>This is not the right tune for a post-apocalyptic setting.
>Especially when you have no idea who is going down in the end.

Footnote: Title "Dainty Daisy" unlocked - The Knightly Order considers you to be interesting enough to give you a name. Surely, this is the first step on your glorious career path to becoming a shining paladin in gleaming armour. Keep it up!

Footnote: You have gained recognition - You are now known amongst Pegasi as can enthusiast. You seem to have a thing for cute mares who are hidden beneath tough metal shells.




2077.3

"They're never gonna stop!" - Musings about unending garbage.

>The metre counter in your HUD consistently counts downwards as the Pegasus squad draws near.
>With their current speed, they will reach in you in five minutes, tops.
>And if you want to execute #deca.mare's plan, you have to act now.
>"Is the spell ready?"
>Mare number one.
>You turn your head to them, and see the Unicorn nodding in silence.
>"Good. Channel it when the cue comes."
>A second nod.
>However, you have no time to fool around or listen to their conversation any longer, so you hastily wave a forehoof to get the attention of everyone.
"Hey, cover me! I'll grab something!"
>And before any of the four can say anything, you bolt off towards the downed mare.
>Naturally, you get immediately targeted by six barrels again, as they suspect that you may either flee or join their opponents.
>But since you stay on the ground and run towards a position that is still well and truly in their firing range, they let you pass for the time being.
>#deca.mare's assessment was correct in that regard.
>So you certainly do not doubt the accuracy of her remark on the next step either.
>If you appear to flare your wings or run past your downed adversary, shots will be fired.
>And with their skills in marksmanship, one of them is guaranteed to hit you before you can get away.
>But luckily for yourself and the ammunition reserves of your heavy metal friends, you skitter to a stop right in front of the grounded Pegasus mare.
>She must be aware that someone just ran over to her, but the pony nevertheless remains almost completely motionless.
>A testament to the overall discipline of the act in this game, that is for sure.
"Don't worry. I'll make this quick."
>No response.
>She is apparently just waiting for you to take whatever you want from her.
>So you quickly reach for the saddle as you try to find an overtly enchanted item.
>You notice that her energy weapon and most of the attached equipment bear some uniform iconography that you would expect on a badge or banner of sorts.
>Perhaps the sign of her squad or faction?
>Possible, but you have more important things to worry about than pondering such minute details.
>So instead of asking yourself or #deca.mare about this, you fully focus your attention on "browsing the wares" in front of you.
>And at first you do not fully know what item to look for specifically, given that enchantments can be placed in many different objects.
>Provided they contain some form of embedded crystals or "gems" that can "hold" the related spells.
>A necessary circumstance that many talented Unicorns turned into a fashion statement over the years, as they like to utilise the visual effect of crystals to make their creations look more precious.
>Which in turn inspired some enchanters to add even more gemstones to these objects than they technically need to, simply for the sake of aesthetic perfection.
>Or, depending on who one asks, out of frivolous vanity.




>Regardless of the reason though, it is usually very easy to spot potent magically enhanced artefacts like the Alicorn Amulet.
>But here, the circumstances are practically turned around, considering that ponies would rather want to conceal these items if they are in their possession.
>Then it makes click in your mind as you see the energy cell that is embedded within the saddle.
>The model looks slightly different than the conventional unit that Mender has installed inside the equipment he has given to you.
>So this must be a modified variant.
>As you quickly see, it is a little bit bigger and bulkier.
>Just big enough to store a small bit of extra energy and a mini cloaking device.
>This is the treasure you have been looking for.
>You grab the energy cell, or spark battery as the wastelanders call it for some reason, and carefully pull it off the socket.
>Once the thing is free, you bite down on the casing until it is firmly in your grip, and run back to the four other ponies.
>They are still observing you closely, and at gunpoint, but remain peaceful as they see you charging back.
>And of course, you get a dumb remark flung your way as soon as you are back within earshot for a normal conversation.
>"Bringing more tributes? This is not the time for donations, Dainty."
>You flat out disregard that comment altogether, stop right in between two knights, and spit out the energy cell.
"No time for stupid banter! Install the thing on my saddle! Now!"
>The armoured stallion is not exactly pleased by this behaviour.
>"Watch your tone, little flower."
"Yeah, later or whatever. We've bigger problems right now!"
>"Commoner, if you think..."
>At this point, you have just about enough of this to and fro.
>Time is of the essence, and here you have a pony in a shell who is too fixated on his role to get something done.
"No what ifs, and no nonsense! I'm not some random spy, damn it! Think about it! We wouldn't even have that thing in our possession if I didn't warn you! Don't be a dullard now and shove it in!"
>Even through the thick metal, you can tell that your direct words have affronted his sense of pretended chivalry.
>And frankly, for once you do not care.
>If he does not get a move on, it does not matter if he shoots you, or if one of the Pegasi does the job for him eventually.
>The result is the same.
>But despite the seemingly proud, unkind behaviour to outsiders, and the bravado these ponies show even in face of the worst of odds, there is nevertheless some common sense inside their hard shells as it seems.
>And the stallion must, begrudgingly, acknowledge that his group can use every help it may get right now.
>So he forgives you your disrespectful choice of words, and indeed does what you have told him to do.




>Albeit with a little twist to save his own face.
>"By the power and authority of the Knightly Order vested in me, I hereby grant you, the dainty commoner, a boon. As a sign of our... temporarily benevolent appraisal."
>Once more, you have to suppress an urge to roll your eyes.
>He talks almost as if he weds you with the energy cell.
>Oh boy, these guys really take their relationship to their equipment to a whole new level.
>And if this goes even further, it does not surprise you one bit that they all start to throw a tantrum when some of them lose their special sets of armour.
>Then again, that surely does not happen all too often, especially when they travel in groups.
>After all, who is going to dismantle three or more of these things on the field to carry them around?
>This form of massive encumbrance only makes the hypothetical looters even easier to rob in turn.
>On the flipside, it would ironically be more dangerous to dismantle just one set, and leave the rest intact.
>Because then the remaining knights could easily catch up with the robbers and retake what was lost.
>And judging from the whole servo support and other improvements, you bet they would not even require any real firepower to overwhelm smaller parties.
>Heh, you would like to see how Mender's group fares against these four, for instance.
>It would be more than enough for them to knock the scavengers off their hooves and pin them to the ground.
>That should be a cake walk for three heavily armoured metal cans and a magically strong Unicorn.
>No shots needed to be fired, and no excessive physical force required either.
>They could just restrain the scavengers by towering above them.
>But a dozen airborne Pegasi joining forces to take out a single enemy group?
>Yes, they could take the knights apart and pilfer their pieces without the fear of swift retribution.
>And the knights must have realised this too.
>Which is probably why the stallion did not come up with another retort as you verbally lashed out against him.
>You guess he must have noticed that he came very close to the breaking point, and that he would risk to lose your support for the coming fight if he goes too far.
>Sure, he or one of his friends can shoot you, but that does not do anything to improve their position.
>You have demonstrated that you are, for the moment, loyal to their cause.
>And as a "corpse", your value to them equals zero.
>Which is a loss they can currently not afford.
>For all their great acting and boasts, they need you.
>Irrelevant whether none of them dare to say it or not.
>However, as much as you should enjoy their dependency, you derive no pleasure from that fact, given that your mind is busy with mentally preparing itself for all the steps that come next.
>And you surely do not expect them to show any overt gratitude afterwards.
>The best you can get is a free passage through their zone.




>And this is fine for you too, as it is all you really wanted to gain in this encounter.
>You just wished it were not so damn chaotic in here.
>Whilst the stallion "blesses" your usage of the new energy cell, he competently removes your current cell from the socket, and replaces it with the improved version.
>You for your part are content to see him finally doing something, no matter with how much redundant official lingo he is pairing it.
>Your HUD registers the change immediately too.
>Enhanced energy cell MK2 transferred, seventy-eight out of ninety shots.
>Cloaking device installed, eleven out of twenty minutes remaining.
>Huh, looks like the energy capacity has not been improved solely for the cloaking device as it seems.
>#deca.mare quickly chimes in.
>"It is not only the raw capacity that matters, it is also about energy efficiency per shot. Minimal fine attunement within the crystals can do wonders."
>And you see the difference very clearly in front of you right now.
>This additional ammunition could help you immensely.
>But on the other hand, it means that the other Pegasi might also have more than sixty shots each, even if not all of them can cloak themselves.
>And doing the math, you conclude that, in a worst case scenario, they might have up to almost a thousand blasts in their repertoire.
>Even the impressive defensive abilities of the Unicorn cannot soak up that many burst of energy.
>You look at the squad again to check the remaining time.
>By now their outlines in the sky can be seen with ease.
>Not much longer until they are within firing range.
>"They are here! Channel the spell!"
>You promptly hear the characteristic sound of a charging horn near you.
>From the mere sound alone, you can infer that it takes the pale stallion less than a second to ready the spell in his mind.
>Knowing what is coming next, you close your eyes.
>And he does not dawdle whatsoever; the moment his horn is glowing fully with energy, he dissipates it all, emitting one glaring burst of light that covers all five of you entirely.
>Even with your lids shut, you perceive at least a fraction of the brightness around you.
>In a few seconds, you will see if his ambitious move was successful.
>#deca.mare seemed certain about that in her report, but you are not quite as confident as she is.
>Then you notice that the light slowly ebbs away.
>So you carefully open your eyes again and take a look.
>The difference is visible in an instant.
>A small magic hemisphere has formed around the five of you, seemingly cutting you off from the rest of the world.
>You can still see the environment outside, though the pulsating energy of the field causes your surroundings to appear lightly blurred.
>Obscured by an ever changing minor distortion.
>As if you were staring into the distance of a torrid sand desert in which the air itself is trying to play tricks on your vision.




>The peak of the conjured dome is located right above the Unicorn, whose horn is still glowing vividly as he stands still with his eyes closed.
>You quickly notice that he has forced himself into a trance, presumably to channel all of his power into maintaining the protective field.
>The stallion really did it.
>He has, for all intents and purposes, turned himself into an impromptu living shield generator.
>#deca.mare did not exaggerate one bit in her report.
>Next, you measure the distance between the robed stallion and the rim to determine the radius of your shield.
>Almost twenty metres.
>Which also automatically equals the height of the dome at the tip, and means that you have a diameter of forty metres to work with on the ground.
>Fairly spacious for a hastily created energy shield with barely any preparation, but not so much room for a Pegasus to navigate in combat.
>Well, you have to make do with the things you are given.
>Horse mouths and gifts, and all that.
>Or rather, horses' horns in this case.
>You focus back on the eleven ponies in the air.
>The Pegasi are still approaching, completely unimpeded and unimpressed by the Unicorn's display of advanced sorcery.
>And you have expected this reaction.
>For it is likely that most, if not all, of your adversaries  have seen this type of magic in action before.
>Meaning they know exactly what to expect, and how to react.
>Possibly even how to counter it effectively.
>Not good.
>Fortunately though, you can still precisely follow the movement patterns of every individual pony thanks to your HUD.
>Even as your real vision of the world outside is somewhat distorted by the shield, your HUD is not affected in the slightest.
>And as #deca.mare has revealed to you in her report, neither is the visual aid of your armoured allies.
>So all of you always know exactly where your enemies are and where they are pointing.
>The Pegasi, on the other hand, merely see your rough location and the blurry spectres of your body frames.
>One of the very few advantages at your disposal.
>And the key factor that especially you must capitalise on the most.
>The rough sounding mare lifts her hoof.
>"Assume defensive formation around the wagon! Triangle!"
>The other two move without hesitation and rush to their positions.
>Then you get to witness how athletic these ponies can be despite their armour.
>They can almost run as quickly as if they were wearing nothing at all.
>And the triangle is set up in about two seconds.
>Each knight now effectively covers one third of the perimeter around the wagon.
>Their barrels point upwards, biding their time to strike an airborne pony when they seen an opening.
>But for now, they stand steadfast, as they wait for the enemy to make the first move.
>And so they do.




>At the precise moment in which the first pony reaches the effective firing range, the barrage begins.
>The Pegasi commence their first attack with a unified strafing run.
>Controlled waves of energy hammer onto the surface of your shield, causing it to ripple and flicker briefly as the impacting energy charges dissolve into nothing more than warm air.
>The process is the same as with the other spell before, minus the necessity to target every single shot individually.
>You figure the first magic trick only works well against smaller groups of ponies where the number of projectiles is limited.
>But with almost a dozen sources of fire flying around, a complete shield is more feasible, even though it costs much more energy to keep up.
>However, you do not need to be a Unicorn yourself to feel the pressure rising.
>The air around you gets a tiny bit warmer with every new hit, and your mind processes this as a hint that each strike tests the will of the robed pony at the wagon anew.
>You have no idea how long he can take this kind of punishment before his fortitude breaks under the combined weight of mental strain and accumulating heat.
>He may look serene now, yet you have seen enough spellcasters in action during your time on Equestria.
>Sooner or later, he will work up a sweat.
>There is no way around this.
>Unless you win first.
>Which is exactly what you intend to do anyway, although not primarily for the sake of mister robe over there.
>You carefully study the movements and firing behaviour of the Pegasi.
>Judging from the waves on the shield, you can tell that they cannot take any clear aim at a particular pony.
>Their shots are simply directed to hit the shield first and foremost.
>And that strategy works well enough to make life difficult for your harnessed shield battery on legs.
>But it also gives you the insight that #deca.mare and you were hoping for.
>Because now you know that you can move around inside the shield relatively covertly, as the fliers outside cannot trace your every move.
>This is exactly that little edge which you need to do something useful.
>After the Pegasi have passed the dome and ended their strafing attack, the group formation breaks apart as the ponies fly off into different directions.
>And it seems that one of them makes a mistake, as you hear the sound of a larger rubber ball leaving the barrel of a knight.
>The projectile phases through the barrier without an issue, and hits a pony supposedly at the rear.
>You cannot say for sure thanks to the fuzzy visual contact, yet you notice that the pony nevertheless shouts something to the others and glides downwards.
>One less to worry about.
>Only ten remaining.




>Good thing that the dome only wards off purely energy based shots whilst solid objects can traverse the barrier without a problem.
>That way the knights can fire out, and the Pegasi cannot return the favour from the distance until the defence is broken.
>Likewise are they unable to simply hold their position in the air as they fire, for that would only turn them into practicing targets for the knights.
>Forcing them to keep moving while they shoot at you.
>Of course, they could try to breach into the protected zone all at once, guns blazing, but that strategy would be far too risky.
>With the immense agility and speed of their suits, the knights would have a good chance to down them all in close-quarters range before their armour is wholly pierced by the winged assailants.
>As a result, their safest bet now is to drag on the fight until the Unicorn is worn out and the die is cast.
>No wonder they wanted him out of the equation before the real action begins.
>You have soured their sweet looting run considerably.
>And you are sure that they will remember this fiasco for a very long time.
>Including the face who is responsible for it.
>But oh well, you made your dust-ridden bed.
>Now you only have to convince ten more Pegasi to lie in it.
>Though said winged ponies are determined to make that particular challenge as hard as they can for you.
>You observe their movements closely.
>They too spread out evenly around the dome to cover it from all sides, and batter your protective hull with simultaneous strikes coming from virtually everywhere.
>And they fly constant evasive stunts while they fire to prevent the knights from locking onto their signatures for a clean shot in turn.
>Looks like the Pegasi know exactly how they can make their opponents struggle.
>Yet this is where you come in to save the day.
>With a delicate attempt at a stealthy gun-and-run strategy that can only either end in a total grand success, or fail extremely badly.
>Due to the fact that your ordnance is similar to that of the Pegasi, you face the same problem as them.
>Only the other way round.
>You cannot fire at anyone on the outside, because trying to would merely lead to you jabbing the endurance of your own spellcaster.
>Which is a two-fold problem that you can only circumvent in one viable way.
>You have to fly out to get things done.
>And your new shiny cloaking device is the key to make that possible without you getting fried almost instantly and from several angles at once after you have left the boundaries of the protective hemisphere.
>Plus, as the absolute cherry on top, you only have eleven minutes of stealth you can use.
>When this time frame has run out, you are done.
>In short, you stand with your back to the wall to put it mildly.
>But you have to act, and the sooner you start, the higher your chances.




>So you better begin right now.
>You give the nearest knight a sign to hold fire for a moment, and quietly hope that the metal pony heeds your hint.
>And despite the fact that you have literally zero actual sway over any of them, it seems that you are given the benefit of the doubt.
>"Watch out! Dainty is doing something!"
>You grimace somewhat as the mare warns her peers at this volume.
>The Pegasi outside have a chance to hear it too, and information shouted out into the game field equals information freely given to the enemy.
>But on the other hand, her instructions are still rather vague at least.
>The Pegasi are unlikely to derive anything useful from that remark alone.
>Nevertheless, you signal the mare to remain quiet as you lift off and fly a circle inside the field.
>After you are sure that all of the knights have seen you at least once, you activate the cloaking device and witness how the limbs of your own proxy disappear from your sight.
>And, against your initial hopes, you swiftly hear a comment.
>"The fuse is lit! Careful where you tread!"
>Hm, looks like the knights have a concept of coded language after all.
>You are positively surprised for once, and hope that it is enough to avoid an unfortunate case of friendly fire.
>Their visors should be able to detect the visual fluctuations of the cloak at such a short range, and with their "combat" experience, the knights should have enough discipline and skills for that plan to work.
>Though there is always the chance that one of them misjudges the readings in a split second.
>But you have to blindly trust in the abilities of your allies on this one.
>Because you have to pay attention to the attack patterns coming from the outside, in order to use the ripples in the shield to your advantage.
>Fortunately, #deca.mare is here to help.
>"Viable Vector opens up in eight seconds."
>Quickly, mark the spot!
>It instantly appears on your HUD.
>You match your speed carefully as you fly to the correct spot, planning to arrive at the rim of the barrier shortly after the projectile has impacted on it.
>True to her prediction, you see the light coming right at you on the other side.
>The blast harmlessly makes contact with the shield and disappears while faint circular distortions spread out from the hit spot like waves on a body of water.
>And the responsible Pegasus has already moved quite a bit from the origin angle of the shot, meaning the pony will not fire from the same vector twice.
>So you seize the chance for what it is, and fly straight through the barrier, masking the flickering of the shield while your body pierces the dome as the after-effect of the previous attack.
>Then you swiftly flap a few times to make sure that you do not get in the way of any of the attackers, and quickly scan the situation.




>You need to pick a target to stalk and shoot down from behind when no one is expecting it.
>Preferably when said pony is flying an attack.
>Then you can attach yourself to the six of the assailant, deliver a stealth load from the rear, and quickly barrel back into the sphere whilst your cloak deactivates itself due to your attack.
>Sucker punch?
>Maybe.
>Do you care about that in light of your situation?
>Not really.
>Especially since it does not even break the rules.
>And considering the overall confusion that this attack will certainly cause amongst the Pegasi, your chances to win enough time to return before your opponents understood what hit them, are fairly high.
>Provided that the knight who sees you coming makes the mental connection to not shoot the square that makes the other squares "disappear".
>Again, you only have to trust in their competences more than you do in your own.
>But #deca.mare said they are good at the game.
>So you simply hope that this holds true here as well, and merely stick to your part on the fight.
>It is time to pick the first candidate for a swift time out.
>And you know exactly which one that should be.
>You lock onto the stallion who accompanied the mare on the surprise attack against the caravan.
>Since you know for sure that he wears a cloaking device as well, you deem him as a higher threat than the others.
>For while some of them might have cloaking devices of their own too, as unlikely as that should be due to the rarity of that technology, you cannot say that for certain.
>Whereas the stallion has shown himself to be in possession of one.
>So you better take him out of the game before he can cause some serious trouble for you.
>You glide towards him in a generous curve, far away from any other Pegasi who could ruin your stealthy approach.
>And you take every second to study his flight behaviour.
>What angles he favours to use for a barrage, which evasive stunts he pulls off to dodge fire, and when he tends to veer off and get back into a safe distance.
>It seems like your mark has a tendency for steeper attack runs than most of the others.
>Not surprising, considering that he was willing to dive bomb straight into the fray with no cover.
>Yet it means that you now also have to imitate precisely this style if you want to fell him out of the blue.
>This will be tricky.
>You would like to sigh, but you keep your mouth shut, and wordlessly fall in line behind the stallion as he turns around for the next attack.
>As you descend closely behind him, you feel how rapidly he picks up speed, so you are forced to do the same.
>And the velocity is a tad too high for your tastes, because you are fully aware of the fact that, unlike him, you have to use that vector to barrel back into the dome quickly before you can even consider to brake properly.
>Ugh, this will be messy.




>You instinctively grit your teeth at that thought, yet nevertheless continue to mirror each and every little movement the stallion does.
>Fortunately though, he mostly resorts to minor dashes to the side and similar little tricks that prevent the knights from having a straight line of fire.
>That is all he can realistically manage anyway at this breakneck pace, unless his skills are on par with that of top-level fliers like the Wonderbolts.
>Which they are apparently not, much to your relief.
>Still, you know you are in for a rough ride.
>You follow him through one of his routines and do everything he does, minus the firing at the shield.
>Tricky, though doable.
>But that was not the really hard part yet.
>Then, about two seconds before you expect him to normally cease fire and change course, you unleash two charges of your own in rapid succession.
>The energy projectiles leave the small radius of your cloaking field, gleam brightly on the short way between your prisms and the Pegasus, and score a pair of hits straight at the pony's buttocks.
>Perhaps not exactly the most graceful strike you have ever landed against someone, but those are the risks of going into a firefight without a pair of pants.
>Really, conventional pony clothing habits, and regular lack thereof, are not all that practical for this type of sport, you figure.
>With all the things that the ponies throw at each other here, it inevitably must come to some unfortunately placed shots and swings.
>After all, you have already dealt two of those in person, and you are only on your second day in.
>But unlike the confused Pin Point, he at least should walk the shock of getting his flanks zapped off in a few minutes.
>Whilst the stallion shouts something in surprise as he tumbles off course, you notice that your cloak begins to phase out quickly.
>So you ignore the sinking Pegasus, and even accelerate a tad more against any common sense.
>As it turns out however, that is the correct thing for you to do.
>Because the other Pegasi have noticed as well that their active number has been reduced by one.
>And that the shot responsible for this was neither fired from a knight, nor has it come from their general direction.
>Even through the simplified outlines of your radar, it becomes evident that at least five of the Pegasi are turning their heads towards your position.
>You caught their attention much quicker than you wished for.
>Two of the Pegasi change their course, presumably to intercept you before you can reach the barrier.
>And they actually have a good chance of doing so before you are safe.
>It is only a matter of a couple of seconds, but Pegasi are generally fairly nimble.
>They can be this swiftly if they want to.
>Well, shit.
>This does not bode well in the slightest.




>Though just as you prepare to fly wild dodge moves on top of your critical descent, you see two distortions on the surface of the dome which were not caused by the exterior siege.
>A pair of moderately sized balls whiz through the air, each hitting one of the two Pegasi who want to return the favour as they lock onto you.
>Eliminating both of them in their moment of distraction.
>Looks like someone behind the shield thought alike.
>Which saves your hide, and loweres the number of opponents yet further to a more palatable seven.
>You hear #deca.mare's delighted voice as you breach the barrier near the peak.
>"Told you they are good at their game."
>You, however, have no time to reply, or even think of an answer.
>For you have to utilise every trick in the book to smoothen the angle of your fall and brake down significantly in the process.
>You know you will crash either way, but you can at least mitigate the damage to, hopefully, a few bruises and minor cuts.
>So you flap like mad and push your proxy to the limit, as you prepare yourself for the next inelegant landing in your young wastelander career.
>And somehow you think that the air around you physically reacts more intense to your attempts than it should.
>It seems as if your wings or body got a booster of some sort.
>Though you are neither sure what exactly this booster could be, nor do you know where it might originate from.
>A pleasant surprise, yet it is not enough to avoid the inevitable.
>And so you brace yourself for one last attempt to weaken the impact.
>You artificially "stiffen" the augments inside the legs of the proxy so that they offer a modicum of resistance while they bend.
>Which grants you a spontaneous buffer that soaks up some of the kinetic force behind your fall.
>But even that approach only goes so far.
>If you want to ensure that they remain undamaged, you are forced to limit the strain levels on the augments to a certain degree.
>And they must be kept operational, no matter what.
>For you cannot wander across this game field in crutches; you would be sidelined like #deca.mare with her proxy.
>Thereby failing your mission.
>So it is once again the chest and barrel sections that have to shoulder the brunt of the crash nevertheless.
>With all that it entails.
>Less than a second later, your legs touch the dust.
>And the strain on your limbs is immediately noticeable.
>The augmented leg joints buckle relatively swiftly while they slightly slow you down.
>Though they do not break, fortunately.
>But as you hit the ground properly, you feel like someone has struck you with a metal rod.
>The air is uncomfortably pushed out of your chest, and the violent scraping of dust and dirt as they rub against your coat is not a good sign either.
>This time you have suffered from more than just some ruffled feathers.
>You can tell this much from the sensation alone.
>Even with deactivated pain receptors.




>A brief moment of more scraping follows before you finally come to a stop on the soil.
>Giving you a short respite to catch your breath.
>And while you are down, you order the system to asses the inflicted damage.
>The results come in quickly.
>Some more bruises add themselves to the blemishes of yesterday, three moderate grazes in the chest and stomach regions, and a notable gash on the left upper foreleg.
>Damn.
>At least no internal organs were hurt.
>You analyse the leg wound more intricately.
>The crash landing has damaged the tissue and a handful of minor vessels near the surface, drawing some actual blood.
>Must have been a sharp stone or so.
>Though the bones, augments, sinews, and the muscles themselves, seem to be intact and functional.
>And despite the fact that it must look quite nasty, the blood loss itself is negligible.
>The natural healing processes will take care of this damage with no real struggle.
>In other words, you can theoretically proceed as normal, in spite of leaking blood.
>Yet it could look oddly suspicious if you kept going as if nothing happened.
>Regular ponies would at the very least be in some pain after this.
>A fact of which you get a reminder very quickly.
>"Sun and Moon! Are you alright?"
>Huh?
>You carefully raise your head to look at the spot from whence the voice came.
>The softer sounding mare addresses you.
>And curiously enough, she has stopped to care about the fight for the time being.
"What?"
>"What do you mean with 'what'? You're bleeding!"
>You look down at your leg.
>Some crimson droplets trickled onto the dust and formed a small pool.
"Oh, of course."
>They see that too.
>And they probably also smell it as well, if the odour of fresh blood reaches their nostrils through the thick helmet.
>Their suits are not fully sealed, after all.
>"Shall we call the fight off and signal the medics?"
>For a brief moment, you are genuinely carried away by the immersion.
>Because you have taken that risk for them.
>At least in part.
>And also partly for victory in a God-awfully bad situation, of course.
>Without thinking much, your brain concludes that calling off that fight would invalidate the purpose of why you threw yourself into the fray to begin with.
>So even though that mare is honestly concerned about your health, you instinctively interpret her reaction incorrectly.
>As a result, you reply with a stern voice.
"No!"
>The next reaction of the mare is readable even through her massive suit.
>She takes a step back in surprise and keeps a forehoof lifted in the air.
>Her pose clearly indicates that she is somewhat taken aback by the harsh tone in your answer.
>Then, and only then, does your brain leave its natural combat mode and makes the mental connection to separate her arrogant act from the pony beneath it.




>And you begin to feel somewhat sorry for yelling at her too.
>You get up slowly and face her.
>She looks down at your wounded limb.
"See? Just a small cut."
>You say that as a fine red line runs down your leg.
>"You're sure? That... must hurt."
"Don't worry. I'll bandage it later."
>Good thing you traded away the bullets instead of the first aid package.
>If Daring had asked for that instead of the rubber ammunition in return for her aid, you are sure you would have done this too.
>The mare seemingly accepts your answer though, and returns to her post as a defensive sentry.
>"Fine. Keep standing, Dainty. I don't want to carry you all the way to the ward."
>And here is the gruff act once again.
>Though you hear her voice quivering faintly as she speaks.
>Heh, cute.
>The heavy metal mare is not so hard in real life after all.
>And you find it somewhat funny.
>For all the pseudo-wargames that they play in this zone, even the most seasoned veterans in the super exo suits are nevertheless ponies first and foremost.
>And you catch yourself red-handed at thinking a strange thought.
>Perhaps you really could have some fun in here, if you were not pressed to deliver some scrolls.
>But considering the situation you find yourself in, you have to fulfil your task before you can take any of these ponderings seriously.
>Anyway, you silently thank her for her sympathy before you focus fully on the fight once more.
>Seven out of originally twelve ponies are still in the game.
>This means that thanks to your latest stunt, you have now almost halved the number of your opponents.
>Not bad in exchange for a wounded leg.
>But things will only get more difficult from here on out.
>Because you find it exceedingly unlikely that using the same trick twice will have the same sweeping effect.
>The Pegasi now know that you can turn nigh invisible, and they will not allow themselves to get distracted again.
>Plus, you only have enough energy to power the cloaking device for about eight more minutes.
>And this will certainly not suffice to get all of them.
>You trot slowly past the knight and towards the wagon, and hobble lightly as you tread.
>Not because you feel any pain or are otherwise compelled to.
>But it would certainly make them wonder how you are not fazed whatsoever by receiving bruises and straight up open wounds from a hefty crash landing.
>And while you get closer to the wagon, you consult your friendly mare in the sky.
>#deca, what is the status of our magic friend here?
>"The barrage is slowly taking a toll on him. To put it in technical values, he is at a remaining shield strength of about sixty percent.
>Not great, yet also not terrible either.
>You hear someone firing another ball out of the dome.
>Followed by a snippy masculine cuss shortly thereafter.
>"Gah! Closely missed the featherbrain!"
>Then a loud click.
>"I'm out! Reload!"




>You spot an encasing magic aura that forms itself around a spacious box inside the wagon.
>Considering that there is only one pony around who can do this sort of thing, it does not take you very long to realise what is happening.
>Next, you think you count eight rubber balls that float out of the box, drift towards the knight, and gently disappear into an opened hatch at the back of the armoured stallion.
>Once they are all inside, the hatch closes itself, seemingly automatically.
>Though you guess that the wearer has some means to control this hatch somehow.
>And hold on, so they use the Unicorn both as shield generator and reload assistant?
>How?
>#deca.mare replies.
>"His trance allows for this to happen. Aegis has studied techniques to channel both his mind and magic focus in unusual ways."
>Aegis, huh?
>Apt name.
>"Correction, Aegis is his title name within the Order."
>Or that.
>Definitively a better moniker than Dainty Daisy.
>But you have no time for gripes.
>So what does the trance do, #deca?
>"The trance works like an amplifier for him. When Aegis is about to cast intense spells, he almost instinctively falls into a semi-conscious state in which he uses nothing but his magic senses to perceive the world around him."
>So he renders himself temporarily blind, deaf, and mute.
>Which in turn allows him to project magic shields around his group.
>Whilst he still has sufficient vacant mental capacities left to supply his mates with material when they need it.
>Impressive.
>Though it leaves you with an open question.
>Then how could he hear the remark from the other stallion?
>"He did not hear it in the normal sense of the word. Aegis, well, 'felt' his orders through the magic conduit."
>You blink.
>I think you need to explain that to me in detail when we're out of the fight, #deca.
>"I can give you the gist quickly now. During this trance, the way how Aegis perceives the world around him is bound to the spell he casts. In this case, he is only aware of the room inside the hemisphere. But the levels on which he perceives the details are far more profound than normal."
>So the area inside the field becomes his magical domain.
>"In a way, yes. And he can manipulate reality inside the spell with his mere will. At least to some degree."
>Wait a minute.
>The booster that you felt.
>It was Aegis' magic.
>He helped you to mitigate the fall.
>"As far as he was able to. You came in way too fast."
>You take a look at Aegis' figure in the harness.
>He stands unflinching, eyes still closed, and no overt sign that he is conscious at all.
>And yet you somehow think he noticed that you noticed him, and his intervention.
>As you observe the pale robed figure, it is almost as if you hear an unintelligible whisper in your head which does not belong there.
>A friendly, cooperative voice you have never heard before.




>And come to think of it, you believe there is a chance that it might be Aegis.
>After all, he has not spoken a single word to you, so you have no idea what he actually sounds like.
>Though you are not even sure yourself whether this is possible at all.
>Maybe, maybe not.
>Either it is just your subconsciousness playing tricks on you, or Aegis' magic sense really is this sharp.
>Yet one thing is clear.
>You owe him one, and no doubt about it.
>But the sound of another incoming barrage hammering against the dome pulls you back to the important matters at hand.
>You have reduced the number of ponies who can simultaneously attack your defence, but they still pose a certain threat to your plans.
>#deca.mare's strategy has worked well so far, even though you got wounded in the execution.
>But that was on you, and not a flaw on her part.
"Guess I have to get out there again, huh."
>"May I suggest an addition to my plans?"
>Always, but please make it quick.
>Your time is slowly running out.
>A new text appears in front of your eyes.
>Her proposal consists of only two passages, though you have to read it twice before you even consider it.
>"Well, Anon? What do you say?"
>I say this is going to be awkward.
>As almost everything in here.
>But you have to admit that it could be bold enough to work.
>And #deca.mare would not bring that option up if she saw another easy way out.
>Eventually, you agree to her proposal.
>Which also adds one more thing to your to-do list before you can venture through the barrier again.
>You have to approach the armoured stallion.
>So you walk the slim path between the wagon and the knights' backs until you are behind the pony of your interest.
"Do you have a minute? It's important."
>The reply is swift and precise.
>"Not now, Dainty. We're fighting, in case you've forgotten."
"I know. that's why I need to talk to you."
>The stallion fires another shot at a Pegasus.
>It misses again as the mare dodges his attack.
>Just barely, yet that is all it takes to stay in the game.
>"Hrmpf. Close."
"But not close enough. The next shot will hit if you listen to me though."
>You hear an annoyed snort coming out of the helmet, yet the stallion keeps his visor trained on his target.
>"The audacity of the flower peasants these days. Speak. Maybe I'll listen."
>And you grin, for you know that your next words will knock the plates off his armour.
>Purely figuratively speaking.
>Hopefully.
>You waste no more time and drop the bomb at once.
"Have you ever considered to link Aegis' spell with your targeting system?"
>The knight stands as if frozen in time, much like the Unicorn you have just mentioned.
>Then he exhales loudly before he addresses you in a gravely tone.
>"How do you know his Order name? And how in Equestria..."
>You just interrupt him, as you let every pretence fall.
"Because the way I see it, he uses magic, and your suit uses magic. So can't you just connect the two and let him help you with your aim?"




>You are fully aware that you have just indirectly insulted his marksmanship, but you bank on him being too confused by your sudden reveal to notice.
>And you go one step further.
"Actually, scratch the question. I know it works."
>The heavily plated head threateningly turns in your direction.
>At least as far as the boundaries of the frame allow it to.
>"Who. Are. You."
>Oh yes, he is boiling inside those plates.
"Told you. I work for Princess Celestia. And I have my sources."
>"You knew us before we met."
"Yes."
>The next blatant lie on your tally.
"And before we come back to the whole spy crud, consider that I've just made myself the enemy of these ponies up there. And returned willingly to you."
>The stallion grunts.
>Because even though he does not like it, he cannot deny that.
>"This could still be a ploy to infiltrate our base."
>This again?
"Look, I'm not here to spy on anyone. Just bring me to your Elder and let us have a small conversation. I give him the scroll, and leave to bother someone else next. That's all."
>You continue right away to change the topic.
>It is also a neat technique to prevent the stallion from interrupting you.
"Try it now. Focus on the enemy and use Aegis' magic for help."
>"And how, Dainty?"
"Just like you did with the reload. Ask for an auto aim assistance. His magic sense will understand."
>Even when Aegis himself will not, as you add silently.
>But the stallion does not need to know that right now.
>For he seems willing enough to test it out.
>"Aegis, I need... auto aim assistance!"
>The two mares tilt their heads in confusion.
>They have never heard of that magical feature either.
>Nothing changes in the next few seconds.
>The stallion keeps glaring at you as he waits for something that does not seem to happen.
>And Aegis still looks like his mind has left this plane of existence for good.
>With a composure like this, that Unicorn does not need a poker face.
>Come on, pale pal.
>Do not leave your good less-than-an-hour-friend Anon hanging.
>Unfortunately, the patience of your current conversation partner is running out.
>"Dainty, you have a lot to explain to us when we are..."
>He stops mid-sentence without any apparent outer reason.
>Which means that something is happening inside his suit.
>"What in Equestria, that's new."
>You start to grin.
"That'll help you to predict where they're flying. Give it a shot."
>And he does, literally.
>The knight takes aim at his target, and solely based on the way how he now handles the barrels, you know he is using the "new" system.
>Or magic.
>Whatever.
>He fires another ball.
>And even to your surprise, you see that the projectile is encased in a light magic aura as it flies away.
>Looks like Aegis can give the bullets a small additional nudge to optimise their trajectory.
>The targeted Pegasus cannot dodge fast enough to evade the collaborative attack of the two.
>The ball bounces off the mare's wing joint, and she proceeds to land.




>Huh, one could argue whether that shot counts as lethal or not.
>But it would sure as hell disable her wing if it were an actual bullet.
>And the resulting fall would not be a kind one either.
>So you are now, for all intents and purposes, down to six enemy Pegasi.
>And the stallion quickly spreads the news to the rest of his squad as well.
>"It works! Use the auto aim magic!"
>You see no overt reaction from the others, though you guess that the two follow his advice.
>You wonder if the Unicorn can handle this.
>#deca, what is Aegis' spell strength?
>"Forty-five percent. The aim assistance a drains his reserves a little more quickly."
>That was to be expected.
>Still, you are well within your schedule regardless.
>Now to step two.
>You give a signal to the defending trio that you head out again.
>Hopefully your latest gift to their cause makes them more receptible for the things you tell them.
>You take off into the air and fly in small circles inside the barrier.
>Okay, #deca. It's your turn.
>"Are you ready for this, Anon?"
>No. And I never will be. Do it anyway.
>"Understood. Here we go."
>And from one second to the other, you feel that you have lost the control over almost all functions of the proxy, whilst a second presence suddenly manifests itself and takes over.
>#deca.mare is in control of the proxy now, which turns you almost into a guest within your own vessel.
>That experience in itself does not worry you, given the long time you have spent with her, and all the situations you have lived through together.
>Yet the sudden loss of all senses except sight is always disconcerting to say the least.
>It makes you think as if you have turned into a paraplegic of the highest order from one moment to the next.
>Hell, you do not even register any pulse or feel yourself breathing in this state.
>And despite the fact that it seems as if you have just died, you live on.
>For your actual health is not tied to the proxy at all, of course.
>No matter what you are feeling.
>Or not.
>But even after a millennium, your instincts are still alarmed every time this happens.
>Normally you would just leave for the time being, let #deca.mare do her work, and then return.
>However, this would be rather unwise in this case, for you have to witness the events in this game in first-person.
>The knights will undoubtedly flood you with questions later on, so you need that frame of reference to remain authentic.
>So you watch like a spectator who got chained to a chair as #deca.mare activates the cloaking device and breaks through the shield.
>Without waiting for an attack to mask her own exit.
>And the reaction is predictable.
>The alerted Pegasi have spotted the unusual disturbance in the field.
>And three quickly begin to direct their fire towards this spot, in the hope to shoot you two down with a lucky shot.




>But this leaves #deca.mare unimpressed.
>She knows exactly how to evade the fire before the ponies have even begun to attack.
>You get to witness how the world quickly spins around you as #deca.mare turns and rolls with a frightening pace.
>All the energy charges zip around you like a laser show, yet not a single one hits your proxy.
>Though a few came much too close for your personal tastes.
>They barely fly by with a margin of error that only spans a handful of centimetres.
>Still it is enough to keep the cloak intact and you in the game.
>#deca.mare dodges at least a dozen shots, probably even more, and leaves the Pegasi with the knowledge that their attacks have not hit anything, despite their quick reaction.
>But they do know you are out again, and so they cease to strike the dome for the time being, and fly out of the firing range of the knights as they comb through the air to spot some traces of you.
>And you find their formation exceptionally peculiar.
>The Pegasi form a wide ring while they fly in circles and stay on the lookout for you.
>You figure they plan to cover each other's backs in the process, thinking to be able to retaliate quickly if one of them gets attacked by you.
>Like you, they are fully aware that you will become visible when you down one of them, which enables the pony who flies "behind" your victim to lock onto you and fire in turn.
>And to prevent you from simply mowing them down in a streak, they keep a distance of a few dozen metres between each other.
>Due to the gaps they leave between them, you cannot expect to get them all without changing your angle a few times.
>Which would take far too long to be feasible.
>And they can wait you out, in theory.
>For they know that time is on their side.
>But unfortunately for them, they now face an opponent who can make the impossible more likely than they expect.
>#deca.mare steers the proxy to fly high above the ring of Pegasi, about a good fifty metres, stays in the air, and looks down.
>You could eliminate them all in one run, #deca.
>"I know. But I will not."
>But why?
>"Psychological effect. You will see."
>Without further warning, she sends the proxy into a rapid dive manoeuvre.
>#deca.mare quickly locks onto one Pegasus and fires while the two of you begin to plummet.
>Then, as another mare goes down, and your cloaking field dwindles, she does the least logical thing.
>She targets the pony with the longest distance to her first "kill"; a stallion who is at the exact opposite end of the circle.
>And zaps his back as well.
>By now the stealthy jig is well and truly up.
>The four remaining ponies have spotted you, and all turn their prisms straight in your direction.
>But this is where #deca.mare turns her seemingly illogical tactic into her advantage.
>Instead of trying to dodge or get away from the ponies, she actively accelerates the proxy yet further.
>Barrelling straight through the centre of the ring before any pony has the chance to fire.




>Once #deca.mare has brought the proxy a good bit away from the four, she lowers the angle of the descent, and uses the gained speed to slingshot you back towards the dome.
>Though as bold as her show is, it does not mean you are safe yet.
>Because now you have four Pegasi right behind you, with only one goal in mind.
>To stop you before you can get back to safety.
>And even though it would take you less than a minute to delve into the barrier again, this turns out to be a very long time when you are subjected to a hailstorm of enemy no-holds-barred fire.
>To you it seems as if the four no longer plan to conquer the dome, and would rather want to take you out with the remainder of their now very limited fire power.
>"You are not wrong, Anon. The Pegasi have realised that their chances of breaching the shield has been reduced below any reasonable expectation."
>So they resort to exerting their ire on the only target they have in their reach.
>You, plus #deca.mare by proxy... proxy.
>Double proxy, so to speak.
>And #deca.mare does what she does best as she "dances" between the shiny shots like a surfer who rides a wave of water.
>The only thing you see from the Pegasi are the projectiles that fly off into the distance as they fail to make contact with you.
>Which is enough to infer that none of the four is able to lay you low.
>"Four is the safe limit. Once it starts to involve more, then I could not guarantee to evade everything. Out of mere physical reasons."
>So that is why she lowered that number to four.
>She wants to end the confrontation with a display of aerial prowess that leaves both the Pegasi, and far more importantly, the knights in awe.
>Soon you find yourself back within the firing range of the knights.
>And promptly see some balls coming your way.
>Uhm, #deca, what are they doing?
>"Potshots. To stave off the remaining attackers."
>Sure enough, none of the bullets even come close to you.
>But is does indeed motivate three of the four pursuers to turn tail and fly off, leaving the battle field.
>Victory?
>Not quite yet.
>The fourth, however, follows you into the breach of flying rubber balls.
>A mare, as you can see from the outline in the radar.
>"She will not stop until one of you is beaten. Do you want to take her on yourself?"
>A one on one?
>Is that a trap?
>"Not a trap. She is only... quite headstrong."
>Okay, I will.
>"Get ready to retake control once we are inside the dome."
>Wait she follows us even through this?
>"Yes."
>One moment later, you reach the barrier.
>And regain the full control over your proxy within a second.
>You check the radar and notice that the mare is indeed still behind you.
>She evades the fire of the knights and heads straight for you.
>Like a true kamikaze pilot.
>Primed to hunt down only one specific target, and damned be the cost.




>So you decide to proceed with the only reasonable thing as you quickly devise a plan.
>You maintain the velocity, stay on course, and leave the dome on the other side again.
>You do not have to fear any incoming fire from another pony on the outside anyway, now that the remaining Pegasi have fallen back to retreat.
>And once you come out at the opposite end, you take full advantage of the fact that the mare who hunts you has no HUD to discern your exact location.
>You pull up and try to fly a looping.
>The execution itself is not difficult for you anymore, but you need to carefully adjust your speed just right to be in the last quarter of the loop when the mare emerges.
>That way you have a clear line of fire when she appears.
>And unlike her, you know exactly where she is.
>You ascend, slow down somewhat as you enter the second quarter, and ultimately come to an almost standstill as you hover upside down.
>Then you recheck your distance to the mare, confirm your estimations, and flap once to initiate the descent.
>You speed up once more, and the protective shield of Aegis reappears in your vision.
>The mare is right in the middle of it, and still speeding through.
>She must be too fast for the trio to shut her down, apparently.
>But on the flipside, she cannot attack any of them either, given that she is way too fast for that.
>So you ready your prisms, and prepare to deal the finishing blow.
>And you release a pair of charges, a short moment before your target gets in sight.
>The other Pegasus pops up out of the distorting field.
>Only to get a prompt double strike straight to the skull.
>Good thing she is not a Unicorn.
>That was it then.
>The last Pegasus who stood her ground is out of commission.
>Or so you think.
>The mare staggers slightly after the hits, but she does not go down.
>What?
>#deca, did something go wrong?
>"No, she is 'dead' by the game standards."
>Your opponent turns to face you.
>You instinctively dodge out of the way and fly back into the hemisphere.
>Then you stop to hover in the air and follow the movements of the unruly "corpse".
>She circles around the sphere like a vulture.
>"But she does not always play by the rules."
>You snarl loudly.
"Okay. This is bullshit."
>You assume that means she will not go down voluntarily, no matter how many hits get her.
>"Correct, Anon. And for your information, she was repeatedly reprimanded by the game organisers for this behaviour in the past."
>And nobody kicked her out yet?
>"As long as she does not endanger or severely disturb anypony, no. But breaking the rules this openly could mean that a fight result gets invalidated. Provided it is a positive one for the rule breaker, that is."
>But since her side has decidedly lost...
>"... she breaks loose to do her own thing, yes."
>What now then?
>"Now? She technically poses no threat to anyone. She can shoot you and the knights as often as she wishes, and none of the shots will be counted."




>Though she could get away with the gear, to deny the loot to us.
>"No, not directly. If she leaves the field after breaking the 'being dead' rule, she officially forfeits her gear. That is usually part of the reprimand."
>Meaning she has nothing to gain from this stunt.
>So what is she doing there exactly?
>"Looking for the only thing for which she is here to begin with. Some excitement and a way to challenge herself."
>And what is the challenge here?
>#deca.mare snickers lightly over the comm.
>"You. Or rather we, to be precise. The latest stunt impressed her enough to challenge you personally."
>Translation, please.
>"She hopes you get out again to claim your loot personally. Instead of relying on someone from the staff to do it for you."
>Uh huh.
>Let me guess. Doing so would break a rule too, right?
>"Not at all. You are merely trying to get the goods that you have legitimately earned."
>You sigh.
>I see another Pin Point disaster in the making.
>And #deca.mare actually snorts.
>"It is nothing like that, Anon. To her, you are a challenge. Nothing more, nothing less."
>Your gaze remains on the red signature square that circles the hemisphere.
>The temptation to let that nonsense slip is palpable, and yet you cannot do that.
>After all, you are not sure what the knights might think of it.
>On the one hand, the mare has broken the rules.
>But on the other hand, she is openly challenging you.
>And you somehow doubt that the knights would look kindly on someone who runs from a challenge.
>Oh, what the hell.
>At last, you take a deep breath.
"Alright."
>You look down at the knights.
"Be right back. Got a saddle to claim."
>With that said, you leave the dome to follow the mare.
>She quickly notices you too, mere moments after your departure.
>The other Pegasus speeds up, and for the first time in this fight, you register her colours.
>Light teal coat, with a vivid amber mane and tail.
>And she seemingly leaves a light electric trail behind as she rushes through the sky at a high speed.
>A combination you have not seen in person for several years.
>You are tempted to facepalm on the spot as you recognise this pony.
"Oh, of course. That explains everything."
>However, your aerial sparring partner either did not hear, or care, about your exclamation.
>She simply races around the hemisphere in an attempt to goad you to chase after her.
>Alright, if that is her wish, so shall it be.
>Being beaten in a challenge is the only language that Lightning Dust understands, after all.
>You begin to accelerate as you follow her flight path.
>And she increases her own pace in turn as well, once she notices that you are hot on her heels.
>The chase around the knights quickly accelerates further and further, until both Lightning and you circle around the place at almost professional racer levels.




>You rarely come even close to such a velocity when you control the proxy, but you are sufficiently spurred to show this cocky mare what you have in store.
>Eventually, it is you who manages to catch up gradually.
>Since you do not have to feel the strain on the proxy if you do not want to, you can push yourself far beyond the limits that are even comfortable for a well-trained pony like Lightning Dust.
>Of course, you risk some severe hardware damage if you exceed the normal boundaries for too long, or push the proxy too aggressively.
>Yet you should have no problem to keep it up until you have caught her.
>You do not try to shoot her even once through the whole ordeal; she would just ignore it anyway.
>Though a brazen part in you wonders if she could ignore it so easily if an energy charge would catch her right between the flanks.
>Even a harmless energy burst will surely prickle in places with such delicate nerve tracts.
>You bet it would "captivate" her long enough for you to catch her for good.
>But in light of your recent mishap with Pin Point, and the fact that you do have some standards, you let that thought go and pursue her the old-fashioned way.
>Naturally, Lightning Dust does not give in easily, just because another pony can match her speed.
>So she begins to fly stunts to shake you off.
>She turns abruptly, flies loopings, rolls in the air, and tries to confuse you by foreshadowing one movement, only to change her mind and do another one in the last possible moment.
>And Lightning is, admittedly, very good.
>Many of her ploys would have worked against most less experienced opponents.
>It was never a lack of skills that bombarded her career as a professional flier.
>Quite the contrary.
>Unfortunately for her though, she has met two of the very few beings on this planet who can rely upon more than a millennium of flight practice.
>You can read her ruses with relative ease, and prepare yourself in advance for the not so sudden reveals of Lightning Dust changing her tactic.
>Plus, you are fully aware of her fondness to flout safety measures when she deems it suitable for whatever reason.
>Which translates to one simple equation.
>The more risky the stunt, the higher the chance that Lightning will go for it.
>And you mirror her, time and time again, while you get closer with every second.
>At one point, when you can almost get a hold of her physically, she simply lets herself fall freely.
>Just to stop barely above the ground, and soar on.
>Only a few centimetres above the hard surface.
>Once more, you follow her downwards, though considering your earlier crash, you try not to be quite as crass as your target.
>The consequence of your singular moment of hesitance: Lightning gains another head start of a couple of metres.
>She immediately taunts you somewhat with a few zigzag moves.




>Alright, now you slowly begin to have enough of this side show.
>As entertaining as a challenge can be, you are only wasting time here.
>And every minute you chase after Lightning, is a minute you can better spend on delivering your messages.
>So you sort your thoughts for a short moment, clear your mind, and go all in.
>Fuck it.
>Maximum proxy capacity.
>Disable safety thresholds.
>It is catch or bust.
>You lower your altitude to match that of Lightning Dust, and simply flap like you have never flapped before.
>The sudden spike in your effort quickly manifests itself tangibly in the real world, as you accelerate faster and faster.
>Even Lightning Dust seems surprised, as she actually looks back in confusion to see what is going on.
>And you wonder what she thinks as your rapidly approaching form is reflected in the glasses of her goggles.
>She tries to evade, but finds herself in a tight spot.
>Dodging to the side or trying to get up would be too slow.
>And thanks to the low altitude rush that she has started herself, she has no room to let herself fall either.
>So she tries to use her wings to swiftly propel herself sideward, but to no avail.
"End of the line, missy!"
>You reach out with your legs as you reach her, and firmly grapple her back.
>To keep her wings mostly free, you wrap your forelegs around her neck whilst you sling your rear legs around the end of her barrel.
>In spite of all the trouble she is making, you do not wish for her to crash like you did a couple of minutes ago.
>Because an injury, even some minor one, would lead to more weighty consequences for her than even a destroyed proxy would mean for you.
>From a purely technical perspective.
>Unsurprisingly though, Lightning Dust nevertheless struggles to break free from your grip.
>And she may or may not be aware of it, but her franticly flapping wings help you two to stay afloat while you can focus your wing beats on slowing both of you down.
>But she lets you hear what is going on in her mind instead.
>Loud and clear.
>"Get off! You're bleeding on my coat!"
>You do not heed her complaints at all though, and play the snarky card as well.
"Don't worry, can't be that much. It's just a cut."
>You clear your throat between two frantic breaths.
>For even though you do not feel it, your proxy pants wildly after this ordeal.
"A cut I got while facing your gang. I might add."
>"It's not my mistake if you can't handle stunts!"
>You grin deviously, even though Lightning Dust has no chance to see it.
"No, but it's your fault that I've got to piggyback you. It would've been so much easier if you just played dead."
>The two of you soon begin to hover slowly above the ground, even with Lightning Dust's resistance.
"Now play nice for once and lay low. I just want your saddle."
>Annoyed grumbling noises come your way.
>Yet she relents for the time being.
>So you set out to land.




>Yet even though she actually plays the role of a good corpse, you do not release her yet as you touch the ground.
>Instead, you carefully put her down so that she rests on her legs and belly, and keep your legs positioned around her as you stand.
>You wager that if you did not do so, she might get the wrong idea.
>And you do not want to chase her a third time.
>After all of this is done, you reactivate most of the sensory input.
>In an instant, you feel the proxy's heart still beating much faster than you would like to, and you are still somewhat gasping for breath.
>Not to mention the stark increase in body temperature after the hunt.
>Which of course has nothing to do with the circumstance of having a mare clamped right beneath you.
>No, arousal is the least thing you think of at the moment.
>For more than one reason.
>So while you notice that the proxy gradually calms down and returns to more agreeable scale of vital signs, you want to be finally over and done with this circus.
"Okay. Undo the saddle bindings and we're done."
>Lightning Dust smiles, and bites down on her trigger.
>Each prism releases one charge, striking you harmlessly in the forelegs,
>You feel a slight sensation of little pinpricks in your limbs, but remain otherwise unaffected.
>She, however, takes this as an opportunity to play dumb.
>"Oops. Guess you're dead now too."
>You grunt.
"Very funny. The saddle, if you will."
>"Let me turn around. I can't unbind it like this."
>She motions with a forehoof to show you that the fastenings of the saddle are between her barrel and the ground.
>And she seems to be right in that regard.
>You roll your eyes and give her a little bit more space to move.
"Fine. Turn."
>As she spins her body around, you constantly make sure not to give her enough room to slip from your grasp.
>Now she lies on her back, looking you in the eyes directly.
>But nothing more.
"Well?"
>"Can't open it. Do it yourself."
>Now it is you who stares daggers at her.
"You're talking crap. I don't buy that."
>Lightning Dust merely shrugs.
>"Well, if you don't want it, alright. Let me go and I'm on my way. I'll tell the boss you didn't care about my stuff."
>You think you actually hear yourself growl at that.
"Then the dumb way."
>You place one foreleg on her chest as you lower your head to unlock the fastenings of her saddle with your teeth.
>You do not put much pressure on her; it is simply a way to keep her in place in case she thinks of trying something funny.
>And as a little revenge for the hunt, you take the bloodied one for that.
>Yet she never ceases to grin smugly.
>"You know, I could floor you with a single buck if you keep standing like this."




>Her implications are quite clear to you; she refers to the position of her rear legs beneath the rear end of your proxy.
>You assume she hopes that you will free her from this embrace out of instinctual discomfort at the threat of an impending low blow.
>Neat idea, but wrong target.
>Instead, you remain calm and briefly stop fumbling around with her saddle in order to reply properly.
"No. You don't."
>Lightning Dust raises an eyebrow, as cocky as ever.
>"Oh? How can you tell?"
>Because you will never see an effect with disabled pain receptors, Lightning.
"Because you'll never live up to that threat."
>Her grin widens.
>"Hah, you like playing with danger too, hm?"
>You shake your head.
"I don't play with danger here. Not at all."
>Your bloody leg on her chest might put the truth behind that statement a little bit into question, yet that is not the sort of danger you refer to.
>And you are sure she will get the point too.
>You pause briefly before you go on.
"But you do all the more."
>You notice a light twitching in her facial expression, but she remains steadfast.
>"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Come on now. Flouting the rules for laughs is one thing. But physically assaulting another player after you've been beaten, twice at that, plus breaking the game codex once? Yeah, I think that could make them show you the door."
>The smug grin dwindles gradually.
"And you wouldn't risk that a second time."
>This hits home.
>The confidence turns into baffled astonishment.
"Yes, I know the academy story. Don't ask how."
>You give her another moment to let that sink in before you continue.
"Besides, you aren't a thug. Reckless sometimes, yes, but not violent."
>And her astonishment quickly fades away again as she is forced into the defensive.
>Lightning responds with light irritation.
>"Are you done with your lecture?"
>You shrug.
"Hey, you started it with your remark."
>"Whatever. Just take the saddle and stop blathering."
>Her tone has turned into a deadpan one.
>Though you think the transition happened a bit too quickly.
>Either way, you get back to your attempt of freeing her from the saddle.
>It is a bit tricky, but you have paid attention to Mender when he helped you.
>So you eventually manage to untie the thing.
"That's it."
>Though before you can do something, Lightning Dust's mood swings completely around.
>To a combination you can best describe as chirpy confidence.
>"Right, you got your toy. I'm out. See ya!"
>As it turns out, her sadness was just a ploy after all.
>But you have no time to react properly, as she rapidly turns herself around on the spot to lie on her belly again.
>Her loosened saddle hangs a bit lopsided from her back, but still remains on her.
>And she is surprisingly fast too.
>Much more so than you would have expected.
>In fact, you almost lose your footing as her rapid turnaround yanks your leg off her body.
>Or perhaps she merely meant that with flooring you.




>But you will probably never know for sure without consulting your wife, as Lightning Dust takes a leap forward, wings flaring.
>And really, this is not such an important question to bother #deca.mare with.
>In your general befuddlement during that sudden moment though, you merely follow your instincts and try to grab her.
>However, you only get a chance to get a hold of the saddle with both forelimbs, as it is the closest object you could grip this quickly.
>Lightning Dust was waiting for exactly that.
>Because the thing immediately detaches itself from her back as she moves forward.
>So while she nimbly winds her way herself out of your clutch, you notice that the energy weapon begins to slide.
>First down to her hips, and then off altogether.
>Causing you to keel over as your forelimbs suddenly hang freely in the air.
>The last thing you see of Lightning before your next personal dust bath is her tail, as it scurries out of your vision.
>And as you stumble once more, you hear the sound of beating wings nearby.
>She takes off without saying anything else.
>As you get back up a few moments later, you pick up the dropped saddle and put it in the place where Mender's saddle was before you dropped it.
>Then you look briefly high up into the sky.
>A teal shape is rising and rising, aiming for the cloud layer far above.
"She didn't really get hurt by my words, right?"
>#deca.mare replies factually.
>"No. She was caught off-guard by your mentioning of the academy, but it takes more than that to keep her down for long."
"Yeah, thought so."
>"In fact, she thinks your encounter with her was the most interesting one she had in weeks. And worth the stern speech she will get from the organisers for not playing by the rules. Again."
>You blink at her choice of words.
>And a certain suspicion grows inside your mind.
"#deca, I'm starting to think you only incited me to face Lightning in a one on one to give her someone interesting to play with."
>But #deca.mare merely snickers.
>"It was not the sole reason."
"So you did it deliberately."
>"For another reason too. Consider this angle: Lightning Dust got an exciting encounter, you got a chance to show your mettle in front of the knights, and won another energy weapon in the process. Everyone benefits."
>You are initially tempted to bring up your wound, but then you realised that this happened earlier.
>And try as you might, you find no real point to criticise her on.
>She did what she could to help you produce the best possible outcome.
>Well, maybe except for the nine Pegasi who you and your temporal allies shot down.
>But even then, they also met an unusual encounter that they will probably not forget this quickly.
>And as for them losing their gear, well, those are the risks when one decides to attack another party.
>That, and their initial gamble with the surprise attack not working out.
>#deca.mare addresses you again.




>"But they will recover. The Pegasi have their ways of sweeping the game field to replace lost gear relatively quickly."
>No wonder when they can sweep the entire area like no one else.
>But they also depend on it somewhat, considering their lack of assets on the ground.
>Anyway, you give your proxy a good stretch and get back to business.
>First things first, it is high time to tend to the gash on your foreleg.
>You put down your saddlebags and rummage through them to get two items.
>One is the bandage you have gained from breaking the butterfly chest, and the other is your waterskin.
>You take the latter first and pour a little bit of water onto the somewhat dusty wound.
>While it is exceedingly unlikely to get infected in this almost barren surroundings and with all those supporting augments inside the body, you simply do it to follow the standard procedure.
>Then, after the water has washed most of the dust and some of the drying blood away, you reach for the packed bandage.
>This one is bit tricky with hooves, especially so when the last first aid course you have attended lies over one thousand years in the past, and taught bandaging techniques that are meant to be applied with ten digits instead of two.
>Well, since you cannot come down here as your true self, or bring the proxy on board your ship in orbit to apply the bandage in person, you just improvise on that part.
>You picture hooves as what they technically are.
>Two large middle fingers.
>Not the best prerequisite to work with, but you will manage when you bring the proxy's teeth in as well.
>So you do.
>Covering the wound several times as you unroll the bandage is a finicky task that takes a few minutes, but eventually, you manage to use it all.
>And to your great relief, the package actually comes with an individually sealed safety pin to secure the end of the cloth without tying a knot.
>You thank whoever thought ahead and made your life so much easier right now.
>With that out of the way, you look what the knights are doing.
>While you were busy chasing Lightning through the field, Aegis has lifted his shield.
>Presumably because the fight was practically over at that point.
>And the knights have dispersed their formation to wander across the perimeter.
>From what you can tell, they are collecting their fired ammunition and fleece the Pegasi that are scattered throughout the place.
>Okay. 
>So far, so well.
>Now you have to make good on your promise and get back to them.
>But considering that they are all busy wrapping up the aftermath of that failed ambush, you can take your time.
>They will not leave immediately.
>So you can use that time to further tend to the needs of your proxy first.
>The wound has been dealt with, but that still leaves the matter of nourishment.
>Your last fight was taxing to put it mildly, and it is high time for some snacks.




>You take a generous swig out of your waterskin before you put it back into the bags.
>Then you pay attention to a package of boxed food and see what is inside.
>Various sorts of dried fruit and wheat bars.
>Well, not quite on the same level as the kitchen in most places of this world, but probably the best you can expect in a survival training game.
>And also fairly practical to store for longer periods of time, if necessary.
>You open the box.
>The pieces of fruit and bars are further divided into smaller portions, and stored inside cardboard boxes in turn.
>Meaning that opening the larger box does not automatically expose everything at the same time.
>Neat, and a compliment to the designer.
>Also, as you quickly find out upon opening the first portion, the quality of the food inside is fairly good.
>Whoever made this meal truly made it with a lot of care, no matter that it was meant to be shipped to a desolate game area at the furthest border of civilisation.
>You have to appreciate that.
>Especially when you have to think back to the nutrient pastes and ration bars of your space pilot time prior to meeting #deca.mare.
>It even tastes much more lively than the foodstuffs back then.
>So you eat a whole ration, and actually find yourself enjoying the meal.
>After that, you stuff the box with the remaining packages back into your saddlebags, grab your gear, and head back towards the wagon.
>The knights are still walking from place to place, and you watch them as they follow the same routine, again and again.
>Go somewhere, arrive, loot, walk on.
>And occasionally they return to the wagon to unload their stuff.
>But what makes you wonder the most is the fact that they seem to know precisely where all their scattered ammunition is lying around.
>Probably another one of Aegis' tricks.
>A couple dozen of metres away from the wagon, you hear the stallion talking to you.
>He just happened to be around after coming back from another hauling run.
>"Did you enjoy chasing after your dove, Dainty?"
>And you call back.
"She isn't my dove, I'm married. Besides,..."
>You stop shortly to point at the second saddle on your back.
"It brought you another piece of tribute in my favour. Sir Knight."
>"This is true. Perhaps we will decide on your request in your favour after all."
>Oh no, you do not move the goalposts, friend.
"But most esteemed sir, one of your companions vouches for me already."
>"Is that so then? Who does?"
>Wait, he wants you to say who of them it was, when they all look the same with their suits on?
>Right.
>And you doubt he will take 'the one with the rough voice' as a valid answer.
>No problem though, you have your joker at hand.
>#deca, which one of the two is the right mare?
>"The one to your left, Anon."
>Thanks.
>You point to the left.
"It was her."
>"Are you certain, commoner? A knight would never vouch for a pony who cannot articulate himself elegantly."




>Here we go again.
"I am certain, great knight. Your... magnificent companion has sworn to speak in my favour if I, ahem, 'survive' the ordeal. So these words are, as far as my humble mind can grasp it, binding in light of the honour codex of the Knightly Order. It does not befit a knight to break a vow, or am I mistaken?"
>The stallion looks over to the mare in question, and so do you.
>She simply nods once.
>"He is telling the truth. I made that deal with Dainty."
>The stallion does not seem to be too happy to hear this, but he is bound to honour the word that one of his own has given.
>He looks at you.
>"Well then, Dainty. I appoint you 'Honorary Initiate' for now."
>Wait, hold on.
>No random ranks, please.
>Just a ticket to the base would be enough.
>Is that so hard?
>You hear #deca.mare in your ear.
>"This is precisely what you got. They cannot allow any unavowed ponies to march into their base, now can they?"
>Urgh, great.
>As a "member", they will expect of you to play their little role play charade until you have handed over the first scroll.
>Because a title always comes with certain duties.
>But what the hell.
>Little Dainty makes a deal with the devil.
>So you let your proxy bow once to accept the "honour" of being elevated into the position of the lowest rank inside the Order of High Horses.
>"Excellent. Now give me your last piece of tribute, and the ceremony is complete."
>You reach for Lightning's saddle as well as the squeaky hammer, and do what the knight asks of you.
>At that time, you notice that Mender's saddle is no longer lying where you dropped it either.
>The item simply "disappeared", as it seems.
>Interesting, that.
>"All of the tribute."
>You tilt your head.
"Uh, what's missing?"
>He points at your energy cell.
"I thought that was a boon granted to me."
>"It was a boon granted to an outsider. But now that you are no longer an outsider,..."
>Of course.
>The usual fine print.
>You having a rare piece of technology is no longer of use to him, so he better grabs it for whatever reason he can dig up.
"It's the only energy cell I have. I won't be of any use to you without it."
>"No problem. The Order supplies its members with the equipment that befits their rank."
>So you get one half of a casing with the embedded crystal sticking out?
>The stallion removes your cell, and tells one of the others to bring a different one from the stack on the wagon.
>And the mare returns quickly with a new cell that is meant to be installed on your back.
>You notice that it is yet another different type.
>Your system identifies it as an energy cell MK2, eighty-one out of ninety shots.
>Well, okay.
>Same capacity, minus the cool cloaking device.
>Still, and upgrade to your first model.
>Though you silently remind yourself to quickly get away with it when your honorary title expires.
>Just in case they get the idea to "ask" you to return it before you leave their main base.




>With the obstacles now out of the way, you can at least hopefully head off and wander to their base very soon.
>You try to mention that topic as carefully as possible.
"Sir, what does the doctrine of the Order say in cases like mine? Do I get a writ of passage?"
>"Not quite, Initiate Dainty. You receive the honour to travel with us."
>Oh, fuck.
>"You are in luck though, we planned to return to our base anyway. And with you under our guidance, we have another reason to go home."
>No wait, that is a good thing.
>"If we hurry, we can be there in a couple of hours."
>He pauses, and deliberately so.
>"Plenty of time to tell us how you knew our names. And how you were able to handle the doubly enchanted spark battery so fast."
>No, back to the previous assessment.
>Definitively fuck.
>You immediately try to imagine a cover up story, as the knight decides to hammer down the point just a tad more.
>"Because fellow knights share vital knowledge with one another. It is a core tenet of the codex. Something that initiates must learn very early on. Consider it your first lesson."
>You God damn sly horse in a walking metal can.
>There is no way for you to talk yourself out of this one now.
>You are not wholly without options yet, though each of them comes with some form of concession.
>So all you can do is either drop out, or mitigate the damage.
>You go with the latter.
"Alright. I share with you what I can."
>"What you 'can', Initiate Dainty? Do I have to remind you that the oath of chivalry is binding for you now too?"
"No, sir. But you cannot expect of me to break an older vow in favour of this one. Because if I did, you could not trust me to keep the Order's knowledge either."
>He seemingly accepts that, but you must give them something on your travel to the base.
>Otherwise they might boot you prematurely.
>And then all of your efforts today would have been in vain.
>You literally have to make up a story as you go.

Footnote: You have gained recognition - You have been promoted into the Knightly Order. Your new rank is 'Initiate', and you are on the first step on a prestigious ladder. Fame and glory are yours for the taking.

Footnote: You have lost recognition - The Pegasi will remember your deeds that have been crucial to their defeat. They now consider you to be a dedicated enemy of their cause. Watch out when you see shadows.




2077.4

"Ceci n'est pas une pipe." - Not an English sentence.

>The knights are over and done with packing up the remains of the battle in the blink of an eye.
>As such, with all things settled and nothing left that could justify to prolong your stay any further, the five of you get a move on.
>Aegis, still harnessed to the wagon and mute as ever, pulls the brunt of the load, apparently unfazed by the significant masses of gear that he has to pull around.
>And the squad is not slow either.
>After they have made sure that you can move more or less unimpeded despite your wound, the three heavily armoured ponies have, without consulting you of course, agreed to proceed with a canter.
>Expecting both you and Aegis to follow suit accordingly.
>You for one have no problem with this, unbeknownst to your superiors, although you wonder how the Unicorn can manage to travel at such a speed.
>He is, by far, the one who is strained the most, and yet he is also the only member of their group who has no servo-supported full body suit.
>But as you can witness in person, he does it without a problem or complaint.
>Whether he uses another magic trick or something else you cannot say for sure, though you are almost certain that the does, given that the Unicorn does not look like the muscular type at all.
>Or maybe this is just your own experience working against you for once.
>You have made the observation that many Unicorns with a potent magical talent are usually not exposed to much physical labour, as they prefer to spend most of their time with magical tomes, spell training, or experiments.
>And while it is true that even an average pony is still extraordinarily healthy and a powerhouse in terms of physical strength when compared to a human, well trained ponies even outshine these by a wide margin.
>Of course, you know a few exceptions to that rule, though it generally applies more often that not.
>Then again, Aegis could possibly be one of these outliers, and hide some serious muscle mass under his clothes.
>It would certainly be fitting for him too, considering his choice of company.
>That combined with a neat magic spell which, say, helps him to steer the wagon, similar to how he helped you during your plunge, and the feat does not seem so impossible anymore.
>Either way, your little group rushes through the dusty plains in a close formation.
>The armoured stallion forms the head, Aegis runs directly behind him, and each of the two mares cover one side of the wagon respectively.
>Whereas you have been instructed to form the rear guard, closely behind the wooden construct, as it rattles merrily onward.
>Throwing some dust your way occasionally too.
>Because why not.
>You are sure the knights have deliberately placed you there to test your determination to their cause as well as your worthiness to join them.
>They are the equivalent of an elite organisation, after all.




>One with an ego that is almost inflated enough to keep a zeppelin afloat, yes, but they do have the material and prowess to show for it.
>And tests like this are often used as rites of initiation in one way or another.
>But you realise that their behaviour is nothing personal against you.
>You are sure that each and every one of them has gone through something similar before they were accepted into the higher ranks of their order, so there is that.
>At least the wagon does not drop any items to fly in your face.
>Their loot has been secured thoroughly, in spite of the respectable amount of stuff that the knights have piled on the thing.
>The potential for slapstick hilarity aside, you assume the gear is far more valuable to them than a cheap laugh.
>Plus, their real face has shone through previously as well.
>Despite all the charade of the game, none of them wants to see you hurt in any way.
>Aegis showed this first, who was swiftly followed by the mare when she spotted your injury.
>They just want to tease you with all means they have at their disposal.
>So you are simply the butt of some jokes as you watch their rears.
>Oh well.
>But as it so happens, the positioning of you behind the wagon initially sounded like a good idea from your perspective.
>After all, when the other ponies are not near you, relatively speaking, they cannot ask you any prodding questions.
>Right?
>Wrong.
>Because shortly before you were told to assume your position behind the wagon, one of the mares attached a little device to your ear.
>A small enchanted "box".
>Commonly referred to as communication device to anyone who does not associate technology with magic and vice versa.
>This adorable asset connects you directly to the helmet of the stallion at the head of your formation.
>Now you hear everything the other has to say, provided that the channel is open.
>Also, and this is something that the knights did not tell you, the other three can hear you speak clearly as well.
>Including Aegis.
>Something you are not supposed to be aware of.
>Presumably due to tactical reasons.
>On the flipside, they do not know that you know, because they are unaware of the scanners inside your goggles.
>And said scanners picked something up.
>A faint signal coming from the harnessed spellcaster at the wagon.
>Looks like your friend Aegis acts as the relay station between you and the others.
>Which probably explains how he can eavesdrop as well.
>Judging from what #deca.mare has told you about how he perceives the world when he is in "the zone", you bet he hears your conversation as some form of ethereal whisper in his mind or something.
>After all, his magic presence has proven sufficiently apt so that even you could partially feel it in your own mind just by looking at him.




>That is unusual, to say the least.
>Perhaps Aegis can even read minds to some degree?
>He would naturally have no luck with yours, as he can rummage through the vacant head of the proxy all day long without finding anything, even while you use it.
>But his abilities do unsettle you lightly, because Unicorns like him are the ones who come the closest to the actual reality of Equestria's origin.
>Nowhere near to piecing everything together, but close enough for you to mind your words, for these ponies will pick up every minute detail that you say.
>You need to be careful when he is around, even when he seems to have a good heart.
>So you better celebrate your little scanner advantage silently, while you act as if you are not aware of what they have done.
>As far as you are meant to believe, this is nothing but a conversation between you and the stallion.
>And you treat it like that.
>However, on top of all these tricky factors, your situation has not changed in the slightest.
>Nothing saves you from the fact that you still have to cook up a story which explains why you are already so well-versed with their tech and internal titles.
>And your "sole" conversation partner cuts right to the chase.
>"You still owe me an explanation, Initiate."
>You sigh.
"I think so, yeah."
>You pause to give yourself a moment to think.
>"Well? How did you gain so much knowledge of our internal affairs? For someone who is 'not a spy'?"
>The gears in your mind race just as quickly as your proxy runs through the desert, frantically evaluating what you can give them and what is off-limits.
>Especially in the presence of your pale relay station on hooves.
"Fine then."
>You pause only briefly.
"I was briefed on it shortly before I met you."
>Which is not even wrong.
>"By whom?"
"Sources."
>"What sources?"
"Reliable ones."
>"Thin ice, Dainty. Thin ice in the desert."
>Okay, cutting the sassy responses.
"By... let's call them associates. Somepony, or ponies, who are not directly sworn to the Crown, but have the realm's best interests in mind, and help the diarchy out when their service is needed."
>"Is that so? Elaborate."
"There is not much to elaborate on, I'm afraid. All I know is that they are good at what they are doing. And that does sometimes involve gaining reliable information to help the couriers in their missions. Like in your case."
>"You are beating around the bush, Initiate."
>Translation for: Get to the point.
>So you do.
"How they do it, you mean? Beats me, sir."
>"Impossible. You have proven minute knowledge of our craft. Nopony outside our circles does that."
>You wonder how much he and his peers actually talk about their activities outside the game.
>Because at the end of the day, this is nothing but a simulation, and you are certain that one or the other player may not take that oath to "secrecy" as seriously as the stallion tries to imply that it is to them.




>On the other hand though, you have to convince the persona of the knight inside the game of your point, and not the pony who is playing the part.
>And the character you deal with would never accept the implication that one of their own could have let out a single word about their technology.
>He would rather feel insulted by that and turn against you instead if you tried.
>Though you are unsure how far these ponies will take their spectacle in the presence of a legitimate courier.
>In any case, you best diffuse that particular hot spot and hope that the knight plays ball.
"I guess they just have a remarkable talent in this sort of thing."
>You have stopped counting how many half-truths you have spouted out so far, but that does not matter as long as you can convince the knight that at least some of it is true.
>But you believe you are not there yet.
>Not by a long shot.
>"Do they have a name?"
>Of course you have a name.
"To my knowledge, they operate without any official title. The envoys are anonymous by default. But I heard they best work in pairs."
>"Where is their base of operation?"
>In the planet's orbit, where else?
"Hard to tell, sir. But it's neither Canterlot nor any other major city. If they have a stationary base at all. They're very mobile."
>And so is their base, but that is beside the point.
>The stallion growls.
>"Not enough to convince me, Dainty. Your story sounds like it was drafted for a gossip rag."
>Hold on, was that the stallion or the knight who commented on this?
>You cannot tell for sure at this point whether he has dropped the act for a moment or not.
>But it should not surprise you that at least the knight is displeased by your account.
>After all, he wants to find the source of the leaks, and you give him a tale of secret agents who lurk around in their bunker base with no one noticing them.
>So you straight up telling him that you allegedly have no idea about this particular issue he cares about the most, does not satisfy him whatsoever.
>Quite the opposite.
>Again, you need to act as if you play with an open deck of cards.
>And push forwards while you do.
"Let's get down to business, dear Knight. This is all inconsequential for you and your noble Order anyway, isn't it. You're primarily interested in your special gear and whether your base is compromised by me or anyone else as far as the game... as far as the wasteland politics are concerned."
>Silence.
"To that I can say: No. Our only purpose to use the information for, is this delivery for the realm. Once this has been done, the matter is over, and I take my leave. That much I can guarantee you. And swear on my word. Both as a courier and as... an initiate."
>You try to sound as passionate and earnest as possible, yet it would be a wonder if he gets overly swayed by your words.




>Good thing you only need to nudge him a little bit in the right direction then.
>"You are not telling the full truth."
>And you are not even going to deny that.
"Well, yes. And I never claimed to. Vow to the Crown, you know."
>You pause shortly.
"But the things I could tell you are genuine, sir."
>At least somewhat.
"And to be honest, I gave you more than most already."
>To your own surprise, you have, in a strange way, cornered the knight despite your own difficult situation.
>Because he realises that prodding more in that direction is pointless.
>Both because he knows what it means to follow an oath, and because he is aware that diplomacy sometimes requires a fair deal of tactfulness.
>Which in turn means that not all the details are always laid bare on the table, even when the intentions behind the action are not malicious.
>That much should be known to any true knight with a code of chivalry, post-apocalypse variant or otherwise.
>And with Celestia's mostly peaceful and prosperous reign for over a millennium and counting, nobody would expect anything of that nature from her anyway.
>Whether her name alone holds that much weight in here, however, is a different question.
>But you can at least count on the knight to not stumble along and insult the regent of a courier while he is in his presence.
>This basic level of tact should be expectable, even when he treats the courier himself almost like a twat.
>Yet none of this solves your basic problem.
>You still have to convince the knight a bit more thoroughly.
>Whilst he too has to come up with a new angle to approach the situation from.
>"There is another thing that does not quite make sense, Dainty."
>Hm, seems like he found something else.
"What is it, sir?"
>"You said you have no ties to the local politics, did you not?"
"Yes sir. Neither I nor the Crown wants to weigh in on the internal matters of the wastes."
>"Then why do you deliver four casings with documents to ponies like our esteemed Elder? Written by the princess, no less?"
>Because the princess asked you to.
>The most obvious answer.
>But both of you are very well aware that this is not the reply he is looking for, or even the point he was trying to make.
>The issue lies between the lines.
"That I can't tell."
>"Because you're lying?"
"Because I don't know for sure what is written on the scrolls, sir. I am just the one to deliver them. And I was told the content of the casing is meant for the eyes of the Elder. And only the Elder."
>"But you must have heard something at least."
>You sigh inwardly and roll your eyes.
>One last tidbit.
"Rumour has it that it could be an invitation, sir."
>"An invitation to what?"
"To whatever may, or may not, have been written on the parchment in my bags."
>You put on a slightly exasperated tone, to give him the signal that you have reached the limit of things you can say.
>In, and to, both roles.




>He even got you so far that you are almost tempted to let a notification appear on his HUD which says 'For more information, please consult the nearest princess or your adequate local counterpart'.
>Though you do no such thing.
>The stallion stays silent again.
>Yet it initially appears like his pause is very short-lived, as he acts as if he is raising his voice again.
>But no words escape his throat.
>Then, thirty seconds more until the next apparent comment that turns out to be a dud.
>Followed by a whole minute of the same silent game.
>You are sure he is doing this deliberately to make you feel uneasy and shaken your resolve.
>But you say nothing and wait patiently.
>For you rather spend your respite to evaluate what he might do next, and how you could react.
>Finally, he speaks again.
>"Your last word, Dainty?"
"Yes, sir."
>"Very well. I still do not fully believe you, Initiate. You have a lot to learn about what it means to be a knight."
>You mean how to play metal can codex in the desert?
"But..."
>The stallion interjects you as he speaks again, more loudly this time, to symbolically drown out your comment.
>"But as a display of my respect towards the ruler of a fair realm, I give you the benefit of the doubt."
>You prepare your second attempt to say something, yet get no chance to.
>"Provided you show the casings to the Castle Guard so that they can confirm their authenticity."
>Oh look, another catch.
>How novel.
>And he laid out new rules in the process.
>Okay, no problem.
>Two can play that game.
>Following #deca.mare's recommendation, you have to remain stalwart in your role as the courier first and foremost.
>The knight will have to respect that.
"Only when the casing remains closed though. And I'm present during the whole procedure, and get it back after the fact. Intact, for a personal delivery. As I have been instructed to by the court."
>"That should be acceptable, if you tell the truth."
>You want to accept these conditions before the next disaster strikes, but the vocal chords of doom and headache are faster.
>"Rest assured in the knowledge that I do not grant you these generous conditions for your own sake, Dainty. It is merely because we pay our respect to the Equestrian diarchy."
>Good enough, as far as you are concerned.
>You are not interested in their hymns and praises in the first place; you only want the job to get done.
>Likewise do you not care one bit about the thinly veiled threat, should you present some kind of forgery to the "Castle Guard".
>Which, with this name, you expect to be the ones who protect the entrance to their base.
>You know for a fact that these documents are valid, and you know enough tricks to prove it, should someone pretend that the opposite may be true.
>And so the trek to the stronghold of the knights goes on.




>The dusty and dry path to the fabled bunker of the Knightly Order.
>A place that a good number of ponies in this game would love to pay a visit to.
>Either to join the aspired ranks of Knighthood, or what is more likely, simply because they see the whole complex as a giant rich stockpile that begs to be plundered.
>If there only were not so many well equipped ponies with their strange little codex between them and glory or loot.
>Or perhaps both.
>You, on the other hand, want none of those things.
>And yet here you are, an aspirant under oath, begrudgingly made to follow in the footsteps of the older veteran members.
>All for a small courier job.
>A seemingly easy task that has already led to many more challenges in a day than you would have hoped to encounter in total.
>Hell, cajoling these knights was perhaps the most strenuous effort of them all so far.
>Not even counting the fight you were involved in just to get to this point.
>Still, a task is a task.
>So you have to live the "honour" of temporary lower ranked Knighthood for the time being.
>And you find yourself agreeing with one more thing that #deca.mare has predicted.
>You will be relieved when this convoluted song and dance of chivalry lies behind you.
>Heavy metal armour may be cool and fascinating, but it is not worth going insane for it.
>These ponies may enjoy this show, but you do not.
>Even so, you can look forward to a silver lining at the moment.
>Because it looks like your imminent quiz round is over.
>Knowing that nobody will bother you for a while is indeed a relief to you, but you have to pay attention nevertheless.
>And indeed, the stallion cuts the connection to the comm device on your head, cutting you off from the conference call.
>A decision which piques your interest, because now that you are out of the discussion, you want to get back in all the more.
>To see what they say and think about you when they believe that you cannot hear them.
>And it is an easy feat to accomplish that.
>#deca, could you please...
>"Say no more, Anon. I am on it."
>Well, you technically did not say a single thing, but oh well.
>#deca.mare keeps her promise and reconnects you within a couple of seconds.
>Listen-only mode, of course.
>The chattering is already in high gear as you join in.
>"I don't like this."
>"You think he says the truth?"
>"Of course not. Most of the stuff is a made up phantasm."
>"You're sure?"
>"Super secret agents in service of the court? Please."
>The rough mare sounds dismissive.
>"Who would believe this tall tale?"
>Oh, you would be surprised.
>"That has not been a thing since the monster task force has been dissolved."
>Wait a moment, did you hear this right?
>This particular project is not common knowledge amongst the wider populace, as it was a covert operation created by Celestia.




>Meant to ward off monster attacks before they had a chance to disturb the life of the common ponies in the realm.
>A plan with a noble goal, that indeed succeeded for a while.
>That is, until the Tartarus debacle forced everyone to drop the idea.
>All the participating agents disbanded and started new lives in different parts of Equestria under new names.
>And even to this very day, only Celestia, Luna, the upper circles in Canterlot, and the Royal Guard know that the project has been a reality at all.
>So how on Earth and Equestria do these knights know about this?
>Because they do not strike you as the common types of secret agents who were members of the project.
>But this could be part of the ploy.
>Regardless of that though, you now know that they did not buy your story at all.
>And worse, they understood that you tried to sell them some complete and utter yarn on top of that.
>Bad.
>Very bad.
>Anyway, you listen and stay in formation as if nothing has happened.
>"The scrolls he has in his bags are real though. The enchantment on the seal bears the princess' signature."
>"So he is a courier."
>"I think so."
>"But what is he doing here of all places?"
>No worries, you ask yourself the same question sometimes.
>"I don't know."
>"You believe he's here to get us?"
>Uh, what?
>"I hope not! I don't want to go back!"
>Alright, this conversation goes to unexpected places, that much is very clear.
>But you are beginning to feel slightly alarmed too.
>Something is not proper here, and you sincerely hope that it will not bite you in the buttocks.
>"You think I do? Court life is sooo dull. And uncle Set will strangle me if he finds out I'm not learning to 'acquiesce to noble etiquette'. Ugh."
>Wait, wait, wait.
>Uncle Set?
>There are Canterlot ponies in these shells?
>And what was the part about learning some etiquette again?
>How old are these "knights"?
>#deca.mare chimes in, audibly amused.
>"The oldest of the three will turn twenty, later this year."
>You must watch out as to not stumble over your own legs.
>You are kidding me, right?
>These ponies sound much older.
>"Voice modulators inside the helmets, Anon. And the mare you call the rough one is actually the youngest."
>How much younger than nineteen?
>"About three years."
>You blink in disbelief as your brain processes this new revelation.
>Oh man.
>You have essentially been bossed around by a bunch of brats who wish to seek adventures as 'knights' in shining armour, preferably as far away from their boring home as possible.
>No, just no.
>Scrap Mender's behaviour you could kind of understand and deal with, as he has every reason to believe he is actually older and more experienced than you.
>This here on the other hand, leaves you speechless.
>Sure, they have already reached an age in which they are relatively independent, but they are still very inexperienced in the great scheme of things.




>And you would have never thought that ponies this young would willingly participate in these games.
>But, now that you think about it, their choice kind of makes sense.
>After all, what better hideout could there be than a heavy piece of full body gear that is both usable and completely hides the wearer's identity in the process?
>Nopony can recognise them here while they stroll around in their armour, despite their comparatively high profile.
>Plus, you have got to admit they are good marksmen for their age.
>So it seems like the order has no problem with recruiting young ponies too, if they have what it takes to become a member.
>A very pragmatic stance, no doubt about it, yet nevertheless one you can absolutely imagine them to live by, if the behaviour of these three is any indication for the organisation as a whole.
>And what of Aegis?
>Does he know that he is travelling with a group of ponies who are almost still youngsters?
>"I sure think so, Anon. Scribe 'Aegis' is their chaperone. He is remotely related to the three. And he agreed to take them to the game for an 'educational travel tour' after they begged him to. The learning tour is at least the official version for Jet Set when he asks somepony."
>So, a powerful Unicorn spellcaster from a high class family in Canterlot.
>Who does a favour for some of his family members, huh?
>Well, that explains a few things.
>Prestige and skill combined in one.
>No wonder the knights were keen to have this group in their ranks.
>And you would not be surprised if the whole faction is in on it, and keep their real identity under the rug so that they can stay longer.
>Because you know Jet Set would indeed be, carefully put, less than pleased to see three of his posh lineage to get down in the dirt for some fun and games.
>In a way, you can even sympathise with these three "knights".
>Although you now feel like the total fool in this scene, even much more so than before.
>You are even no longer sure who has been playing an act on whom in this encounter.
>So you shake your head and resume to listen some more.
>If only to distract yourself from the gnawing embarrassment that you have bowed to these greenhorns and proverbially kissed their shiny hooves.
>Modest politeness may be appropriate sometimes, but it too has a time and a place.
>This moment right here does not, however.
>You can hear as much out of the next few utterances in their private conversation.
>"What do we do now?"
>"What can we do, hm? We'll bring him to the Elder and see what happens."
>"Shouldn't we just stop him and take the scrolls to read them first? We're the majority and have better gear."
>"You sure this is a good idea? It could be an important message."
>"If it were, they wouldn't send a single courier all alone."
>"Oh, they do that sometimes, believe me."
>"Sounds like a stupid strategy, really."




>"It works though. Couriers are talented. You saw what he did to the other Pegasi."
>"That was just luck. He would have lost without us."
>"But we would have lost without him too."
>Hm, at least they acknowledge that in their own private circle.
>"Didn't he say something about an invitation?"
>"You believe that?"
>"He sounded as if he was serious."
>"So he did when he waffled about secret agents and the court. Your point?"
>"My point is,... I don't know."
>You fail to suppress a light chuckle as you witness how the rough voice of the mare suddenly embodies a certain degree of crumbling determination that does not befit her rugged persona at all.
>The contrast is just too much.
>Unfortunately, your proxy chuckles with you.
>Something that does not remain unnoticed.
>"Did you hear that?"
>"He laughed. Why?"
>Ah, shit.
>Stupid mistake.
>#deca, they heard me.
>Reactivate my voice channel.
>"Really, Anon?"
>Yes, do it.
>Ol' uncle Anon must deliver some verbal spanking.
>"One second."
>Sure.
>You grin as you pay attention to their reactions.
>"You cut him off, did you?"
>"Yes. He can't hear what we're saying."
>You clear your voice and prepare yourself to rain on their parade in the most blatant way you can imagine.
"I wouldn't bet any bits on this, 'Sir Knight'."
>A triple choir of shocked gasps reach your ears as the heavy armour suits suddenly begin to lose their coordinated canter rhythm and literally stumble to the ground.
>If someone were to observe that scene from a distance, said individual would surely wonder how three imposing figures of this calibre could simultaneously lose their footing in the mostly empty plains.
>But Aegis, far more controlled and experienced than the other three, manages to slow down the wagon.
>Rapidly, yet controllably.
>He neither loses his balance, nor does he drop any of the merchandise.
>And you skitter to a stop as well.
>Although you cannot avoid to moderately hit your nose against the wood of the wagon rear as you slow down.
>This does not faze you much, however, as the bump causes no real damage to speak of.
>The group of young ponies on the ground fares not quite so well though.
>Despite being downed by a simple sentence and their own surprise, their real issue with your revelation lies somewhere else for them.
>"He heard it all!"
>"You didn't cut him off you klutz!"
>"I did! Really!"
>"No, you didn't!"
>"I don't understand! He can't just..."
>Now it is your turn to interrupt them.
"But I can. And I did."




>"H-how? The spell has a defensive charm on it! Nopony can just invade its influence!"
>You walk around the wagon to face one of the "knights" directly.
>The armour with the mare inside lies on the side, the head tilted in your direction.
"As you can see, it's possible. And yes, I heard everything you said."
>While you speak, you notice the robed figure of Aegis coming up around the corner.
>The pale stallion trots towards the fallen knight, and comes to a stop right at her side, facing you.
>His pose is neither aggressive nor threatening per se.
>But you see a readiness to defend the pony on the ground if necessary.
>He may have helped you during the fight, but he wordlessly tells you here that his loyalties are still with the trio first and foremost.
>He would turn on you if necessary, without hesitation.
>Not much of a surprise, considering that he is responsible for keeping an eye on the three.
>But to you, it does not matter.
>Because words are all you need.
"And as for how I could get in, well, that's a secret."
>The mare replies, as she is the one who is closest to you.
>"What do you want from us?"
"Like I said. A passage into the bunker. Nothing more, nothing less."
>And you answer the next slew of incoming questions, that you know are coming up for sure, in advance.
"Yes, the delivery is for your Elder. No, I can't talk about what's written inside the scrolls. But also no, it one hundred percent doesn't involve any of you. I'm not here to take you home. That's a business between you four and Jet Set."
>"Are you telling the truth this time?"
"Uh huh. You of all ponies should know that the princesses would not interfere in the lives of their subjects like this. Besides, Royal Courier agents have more than enough to do as it is."
>There are not many indications to base this judgement on, but you think that your words have put the minds of your "superiors" somewhat at ease.
>Nevertheless, you notice with the help of your HUD that the mare on the other side has gotten up during your speech.
>And she tries to sneak up on you from behind.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I could disable your armour with the same method I have used to reach into your supposed secure talk behind my back."
>The second mare freezes indeed.
"Good choice."
>That was the stick.
>Now you slowly move on to reach out with an olive branch.
"Again, to take notes. I'm not your enemy. But I do have a mission to fulfil."
>The stallion comments on that first.
>"And you're going to force us to do what you want, if you have to?"
"That's a bit strong a word, lad. Let's just say I'd prefer your help because it makes everything easier."
>And before someone asks the question of what they gain from this arrangement, you go ahead and clarify this in advance too.
"Plus, you profit from my aid as well, don't you? Think of the ambush we fended off together. Consider this my gesture of goodwill."




>"In short, you want us to act like friends?"
>This is the first truly constructive sentence you have heard from any of the three.
"If you want to take it that far, fine. Let's be friends. It's certainly better than trash talking to each other most of the time anyway."
>You almost feel like you have fallen into an episode of the show all of a sudden.
>"But that's not what the wasteland is about! It's adventure and duels and..."
"... and I'm no part of this. Battle and duel all you wish with whomever you want. That's fine. I've got other things to worry about though."
>You pause as another idea crosses your mind.
>These are four ponies.
>And that fits perfectly to another number as well.
>Might as well try that angle to check how they react.
"Oh, now I see. You thought it was about you because I've got four casings. One writ with the order to return for each of you. Written by Celestia herself at the behest of your uncle. Right?"
>"We... had that impression."
>You laugh lightly again.
"No, you got that wrong. Only one scroll is for the Elder. The rest goes to the other big names around here."
>You take a loud breath.
"Did you really think the princess would do that?"
>"Hm, maybe?"
>You grin and look at the mare in front of you with some considerable amusement.
"You know, right now you remind me a lot of a Unicorn mare when she was in your age range. She had similar fears concerning the princess."
>"Were they warranted?"
"Have you ever heard of a pony who was first exiled and then incarcerated at the place said pony was banished to?"
>"Are you talking about Luna?"
>You blink.
>Damn it.
"No, I didn't mean her. And I said Unicorn."
>"Then no."
"See? Because nothing bad happened. And she was involved in something way more... blazing than going on a trip into the wilderness for fun and laughter."
>If she actually had done it in the first place, but you omit the little detail that Philomena was messing with Twilight and Fluttershy on purpose.
>Aegis may perhaps have the correct connections to know what "incident" you refer to.
>But if he is aware of what happened back then, he sure shows no signs of it.
"So anyway, do we have a deal?"
>A moment of silence.
>"But you still have to be our Initiate."
>You shrug.
"Eh, I'll play the part for the guard so that you can save face. I'm not your daisy though."
>You wait another moment to let them mull over your conditions.
>Eventually, the trio has come to an agreement.
>"Alright. We have a deal. Just don't tell anypony who we are."
"My lips are sealed, 'Sirs'."
>You move over to the still lying mare and offer a forelimb to help her get up.
>Naturally, she does not require any help with her surprisingly agile armour, but you figure that it is nevertheless a symbolic gesture.




>And she takes your offer, almost making you stagger as she hoists the combined weight of her armour and herself up.
>"Thanks."
"Eh, no big deal."
>"How shall we call you, by the way?"
"Huh?"
>"If you're no longer Initiate Daisy, how shall we call you?"
"Just Anon."
>"Anon. Hm."
"I know, I know. It's an unusual name."
>"It is your courier alias, right?"
"Yeah, let's run with that. Is your gear okay?"
>"Hah, it takes more than that to even scratch our protection."
>You take that as a definite yes.
>So you can resume your trip where you stopped it.
>Aegis expertly attaches himself to the harness again whilst the other three reform their arrow formation around the front and sides of the wagon.
>And your respect for Aegis does rise a little bit more.
>On top of his respectable magic skills and usual social circles of company, he is extraordinarily down-to-earth for someone of his station.
>Not many of the more famous Canterlot ponies would allow themselves to be seen pulling a wagon in public.
>And much less so harness themselves on their own volition.
>Unless he has an additional motivator for being here.
>You assume Aegis is not only doing his three relatives a favour.
>He is probably enjoying the change of pace too, albeit without showing much of it directly.
>Instead of acting as strangely extroverted as the trio, you guess he is rather shrouding that fun in the role of the loyal and determined chaperone.
>While the group wanders all across the perilous planes of the wastelands, and experience the various kinds of things which that journey entails.
>And this is nice, if true.
>Although merely a secondary concern to you.
>The rest of your trip is far more pressing.
>But just as you start to move back to your former position in the formation, there is something else that surprises you.
>The armoured stallion motions you to assume a new position right next to him, so that you no longer have to pointlessly run this close to the wagon's rear.
>It was only a hassle and served no tactical purpose.
>Doubly so since all of you five can detect incoming enemies as long as they are not cloaked.
>And you doubt anyone would try to use this rare stealth technology to chase after a wagon at such a high speed.
>Because even the cloak does not over up the loosely flying rocks and dust that a pony produces by running on a dry earthen soil.
>Then, once you have signalled your readiness to the others, your team is on the move again.
>With the same moderate canter as previously.
>This time you can actually somewhat relax during this light exercise.
>Not only because you do not feel any strain from the physical effort, but also due to the realisation that you do not have to improvise some random story on the spot any more.
>Also, the heavy armament of your newfound companions means that most of the common groups in relative proximity will leave you alone.




>And there are indeed a couple of those long range sightings on your swift progression towards the central ring of the gaming field.
>In fact, the closer you get to the base, the more frequent they become.
>At first, you only see some pairs or smaller teams with three to five or six ponies tops.
>Upon a simple long range scan with your goggles, you assume they are the equivalent of small scale scavengers, as they do posses some rubber dispensers and basic clothing.
>Yet nothing that could hold a candle to what the knights have in store.
>These ponies know this too, as you quickly realise, since many of these groups also spot yours with binoculars or similar means.
>And they all make sure to steer clear of any route that leads to a direct confrontation with the five of you.
>No wonder that the Order can develop such an inflated ego when they have this much of an advantage.
>Still, the earlier confrontation has shown you quite clearly that the knights are nevertheless fairly vulnerable when confronted with a large scale bum rush.
>Good thing for you that the other groups out there do not have the time, and are probably too fragmented in their allegiances, to organise themselves for such an attack.
>So you get to pass unmolested, which is a neat perk for once.
>You also check the digital version of Daring's drawn map in regular intervals to measure how far you have come and how much is still ahead of you.
>Curiously though, you sense a strange feeling inside yourself as you notice how many undiscovered landmarks you skip left and right.
>A small camp of ponies to your left, another caravan of a few wagons plus escort to your right.
>On one occasion, you make out a small town in the distance, about half a kilometre away from the nearest point of your route.
>The place consists of maybe a dozen or so small cottages which are surrounded by a sturdy wooden rampart with one central entrance gate, and a small watch tower on top.
>The fortifications look like they could withstand a smaller assault, yet it clearly does not have the means to ward off a full-fledged invasion force.
>Then again, the village does not look like a high priority target either.
>The only things of value that you can see, apart from the roofed living space of course, are one carpentry house and a traditional metal works shop plus an attached forge, as well as one pretty plot of cultivated land in the centre of the small town.
>Neat things to possess in this resource scarce environment, no doubt about it.
>But you assume their production capabilities are not much higher than the material they constantly need to maintain the place.




>A minor point of interest, and maybe a place of limited commerce, all things considered.
>For you are sure these ponies would gladly barter to gain things they cannot produce.
>In a reasonable exchange transaction for other material they have a small surplus of.
>After all, a carpentry shop or a forge are useless without any material to process, or if there is no fuel to stoke the fire.
>So even the ponies who are in control of this place are reliant on an influx from the outside that cannot always be guaranteed to come steadily.
>Which as a consequence opens up opportunities for interesting deals, and perhaps even for consistent trade lanes.
>But alas, you do not get the chance to browse the local wares or check the overall market situation, as you have to go elsewhere.
>No time to trade and build when you have to fight and think.
>Oh well.
>The next landmark you come across after a little while is a trio of collapsed buildings, designed in the architecture style of Manehattan.
>These large constructs have been arranged in such a way that it seems as if the structure of the multi-level buildings was torn apart near the base of the ground floor.
>So that almost the entirety of the floors above the fracture have cleanly fallen off to one side.
>Though it is fairly obvious to see that these buildings have never collapsed in the first place.
>They were built as such from the start, in the attempt to create the make-believe effect that they were actual ruins.
>Destroyed by whatever "disaster" which makes up the background lore of this place.
>But other than that, the site appears fairly authentic.
>Additionally, you can see that this landmark is actually inhabited by some ponies.
>Sure, such a place is probably better than sleeping in the open field like you did, but you personally doubt that you could ever get used to this rather unorthodox way to live in a flat.
>Especially when you have a shattered window frame in the ceiling.
>That sort of thing is rather counterproductive to the purpose of a roof during bad weather.
>And the interior has to be a complete climbing parkour too.
>Well, to each their own, you suppose.
>And you get the opportunity to witness how the locals have learned to make the best they can out of this place soon, as a trio of Pegasi soars out of an open ceiling window, and disappears in a different one a moment thereafter.
"Huh, like a row of hen houses."
>"It's your first trip to the wasteland, hm?"
>The older mare.
"Yeah. And so far, I can't say I'm blown away."
>"Then you're doing it wrong, Anon."
"I'm not doing it at all. This is just a mission for me."
>She laughs at that.
>"That's your mistake, rookie. You're just as uptight as the ponies in Canterlot."
"Comes from the group who exchanged one strict etiquette for another stiff codex in the middle of nowhere."




>The stallion chimes in.
>"You're not wrong. But it was of our choosing. This here is nothing like the boring life in Canterlot. With its court meetings. The gala. And all the other gatherings every week."
"Eh, suit yourself. I would've been happy if I had this boring life when I was your age."
>"Anon, no offence, but you sound like a gramps of yesteryear."
"What if I am? I could be a war veteran for all you know."
>"Now you're telling tales again, aren't you? Equestria has been at peace since the end of the Northern Shadow Incursion over a millennium ago. And that was not even fought out on Equestrian soil. Everypony knows that."
"Yes. And?"
>"And unless you're a Crystal pony who was frozen in time for a thousand years, there is no way you could have been there."
>Frozen in time, eh?
>That is not as far from the truth as you think, youngling.
>But neither of them could understand that point if you would bring it up, so you drop it.
>You pass the quasi-collapsed houses and canter further into the "heartlands" of the wastes.
>And there you begin to encounter some things from afar which are a league above your previous sightings.
>A larger roaming group of a dozen ponies for instance, equipped with heavier vests that are padded with ramshackle metal plating, for example.
>You assume that their gear provides some additional protection, albeit not on the same level as that of your friends.
>Plus, you notice that the barrels of their saddles have a larger calibre than that of Mender's gear, yet again not quite on par with those of the knights.
>Still, you recognise an upgrade when you see it.
>A quarter of an hour further in, you pass another fortification with a generous berth.
>This one has almost the same size than the little village you have discovered earlier, but it too appears to be one tier higher on the priority list.
>Because the buildings in this place are genuinely sturdy brick houses, protected by a respectable stone wall.
>And judging from the various smokestacks on their roofs, you conclude that this place has a considerable focus on workshop manufacturing.
>Either to provide one the faction with goods, or to exchange their products for more raw material and food.
>Priority level: Medium.
>Defence strength: Probably the same.
>And as you eye the walls of the place, you notice one pony on the walkway behind the palisade who tracks your movements.
>He gives a sign to someone else you cannot see.
"Uh guys, the sentry takes an interest in us."
>"Where?"
"On the wall, near the gate."
>The stallion turns his head to check what you mean.
>"Hm, he does."
"What now?"
>"Nothing. This place belongs to the scavengers. It has nothing of value to us."
"You think they could try to hunt us down?"
>The younger mare cackles as you ask that.
>"Ha! I'd love to watch them try!"
>Now there is the rough bravado at full display again.




>And her response heavily implies that an impending threat seems unlikely.
>The stallion is the next to comment.
>"But it is strange. Normally they don't raise the alarm when we pass. They know we don't bother to raid them."
"Because they're beneath your league?"
>"Precisely. Attacking this little outpost is a waste of time and effort. And ammo."
>Well, okay.
"There must be another reason then."
>"Honestly, I don't care enough to find out."
"Heh, I see a bit of Jet Set has rubbed off on you."
>"Oh, really?"
"Yep. He too likes to ignore things and ponies he doesn't see as relevant. You miss a lot of details that way."
>He chuckles deeply.
>"If you think so, Dainty."
>You visibly roll your eyes as you hear that moniker again.
>"I'll enjoy to prove you wrong. Right here and now."
"Okay. Go ahead."
>"For instance, you've just proven that your goggles are enchanted like ours."
>Have you?
"Uhm..."
>"You have. Denying it is pointless."
"And how?"
>"Because you saw the scavenger sentry giving the signal. Nopony would see that from here without visual aids. And I don't see any binoculars on you."
>Shit.
"Fine. You're right."
>"Tell me, is that another thing you have 'found out' about us and our craft? With the help of your super special agents?"
>The stallion's tone has become notable affronted.
"Actually, no. I..."
>You pause as you realise that what you were about to say would displease him even more.
>"Well? Out with it."
>Oh damn, here you go.
"You see, I have gotten these goggles long before the knights were even a thing."
>"This is ridiculous. Nopony else has ever used interactive spells on lenses like we do! It's one of the crown jewels of our Scribes' magic work!"
>Hm, you better do not tell them that your variant is far superior to theirs on top of that.
>That could be the final straw.
"It's the truth though."
>"Hm, you wouldn't mind giving the device to our magicians, now would you. They could find out if there's some credit to your claim."
>Yeah, no luck, friend.
"I don't think so, 'sir'."
>"Careful. You have to obey my command when we are in the base."
>Intimidation, eh?
>No chance.
"You still can't. Wasteland rule, remember? The goggles have to stay on for safety reasons. Base or no base."
>You hear him grumble something into his helmet, but he finally concedes that you are right.
>And none of the others tries to pick up this specific topic from here on out either.
>You for your part are pretty happy about that, as it saves you a lot of inconvenient questions.
>The stallion taught you another important lesson though.
>You might play loose buddies with these four knights for now, but they are nevertheless prodding you for information.
>And it will only get worse inside the bunker.




>You consult the map to see how far you still have to travel to reach their base.
>About half an hour, maybe forty minutes, you wager.
>That is, unless you make a break that nobody has informed you about.
>Like this one right now.
>"We'll reach a pump in a moment. Short rest to refill our reserves."
>A pump, eh?
>This stop will surely delay your arrival for another ten or so minutes.
>Still, a pump is a welcome chance for you to replenish your water stock too.
>After all, you would not put it past the Order to demand a "fee" for using their supplies, water or otherwise.
>A fee in the form of an energy cell, for example.
>But at the same time, you wonder why he wants to make a stop this close to their base.
>You doubt it is about the water, yet one thing you know for certain.
>This must have a catch, and you will quickly find out either way.
>True to the knight's word, a traditional, manually operated water pump made out of metal is sticking out of the ground in front of you.
>Openly and visibly, ready to be used by everyone who comes across it.
>Only a chiselled slab of rock surrounds the gadget, providing the user an even ground to stand on.
>Your tactical mind begins to grind as you assess that position.
"There are more pumps like this on the field?"
>"Of course. They are one of the best ways to get water in the wasteland. Unless you want to rely on the Pegasi."
>The stallion looks over to you after he said that.
>"No offence."
"None taken."
>"Why do you ask though?"
"Because I don't like it. They're an effective chokepoint for literally everyone here. And hence the perfect place to camp in hiding to prepare an ambush."
>The older mare replies to that.
>"You are correct in theory."
"But?"
>"But virtually nopony tries that any more. It is considered bad sport by most. So if somepony gets caught in the act of besieging the pumps, other wastelanders usually band together to drive them away. Simply because water is so crucial for everyone."
"Interesting. I didn't hear that rule before."
>"It's not a rule. At least not a written one, if you catch my drift."
>Of course you do.
>Habits are rarely documented clearly and thoroughly.
>And unwritten rules are sometimes the most important ones to heed, although not always the easiest to learn.
>One of the first lessons a courier gets taught before being sent on a diplomatic errand.
>But despite the assurances that she gives you, you scan the area around the pump regardless.
>You find no traces of invisible ponies or obvious traps though.
"I get it. But we shouldn't stay longer than absolutely necessary."
>"Nervous?"
"No. Thinking ahead. The next group of ponies is most likely already heading here as we speak."
>"Are you expecting someone?"
>You recognise that suspicious tone.
"No one specific, if that's what you're implying."




>Why are the knights suddenly so disbelieving again after getting a little more cordial previously?
>Did the reveal concerning the goggles upset them this much?
>A couple of minutes later, the five of you have arrived at the pump.
>You let the knights refill their stock first.
>Which turns out to be a somewhat strange sight, all things considered.
>You witness how Aegis levitates a short transparent hose from the wagon, and uses it to connect one of the mares with the water source.
>He attaches one end to the exhaust of the pump, and connects the other with the armour that the mare is wearing.
>And similar to the reload mechanism of the ammunition, a lid opens up on the surface of the armour, shortly before the second end of the rope is about to attach itself to it via magic.
>How many more features does this suit possess?
>It seems like literally every little remnant of space behind the armoured plating was used up for something, which is a considerable design feat on the one hand, but also a liability on the other, if seen under realistic circumstances.
>Because if something were to pierce that armour and rupture the water supply system in a legitimate fight, the leaked liquid could easily protrude and damage the internal electronics throughout the whole chassis.
>But on a more light-hearted note, you have to grin as you imagine what could happen if someone mixes up the two openings by sheer mistake.
>Do the knights turn into walking fountains?
>And now that you think of it, maybe a slightly adapted suit or two could be useful for fire-fighters, for instance.
>At least in places where Pegasus weather support is not available on call.
>Then again, the few places where this is the case are also those where you would expect this kind of technology to be used the least.
>Like highly remote outpost villages, or those places that have no stable connection to the Equestrian main land whatsoever.




>And the latter groups usually live where they do because they prefer to stay amongst themselves, so they would not be keen to receive such an offer either.
>Anyway, the other mare starts to repeatedly crank the lever once the rope is fastened on both ends, and you can see the clear liquid pouring out of the pump as it flows towards the armoured mare.
>Only a minute later, the literally hosed mare raises a forehoof.
>"I'm good!"
>The other mare stops her pumping activities immediately and lets go of the lever.
>Aegis then proceeds to release the first armoured mare from the hose, as the second one steps up to receive the water treatment in turn.
>This process goes on until all of the knights have fully refilled each others' water reserves.
>Nopony tells you to do something during the procedure, so you simply stand and observe the event with a sliver of amusement.
>For all their advanced tech, these ponies are literally on a drip, as they rely on an archaic invention to keep them going out on the field.
>And after the knights have been treated, Aegis unwraps a waterskin of his own that he has hidden inside his robes.
>The armoured stallion returns the favour to him, as he cranks the lever while the scribe holds his item firmly in place.
>When his water reserves are fully restocked as well, he retreats his waterskin again and gives one faint nod the knight.
>Interesting, that is the most personal notion you have seen from him so far.
>Except for maybe him guarding the mare as she stumbled and fell.
>Now it is your turn to get some water.
>Though you do not expect anyone do to something for you.
>But much to your surprise, the stallion waves you towards the pump.
>"Come here. I'll help you."
"Uhm, okay. Thanks."
>Halfway expecting something brewing ahead, you cautiously get in range of the pump and hold your own waterskin in place to let the water drip inside.
>Then, you hear him address you covertly over the comm.
>"Pretend to stagger when I start. I'll catch you."
"What?"
>"Just do it."
"But why?"
>"Somepony is following us ever since we passed the scavenger town."
>What the hell?
>Sensing your urge to turn around, the stallion hisses at you.
>"Don't look! Fall instead!"
>Ah, now you understand what he is planning, and why they are so antsy.
>They think it has something to do you with you.
>And considering the reputation you must have by now, it would not even surprise you.
>So you give the stallion a nod.
>He slowly begins to pump, with his motionless metal visage focussed on you expectantly.
>So you do as he asks of you and instigate a little mishap that you could spontaneously come up with.
>You skew the angle of the waterskin so that a good portion of the liquid misses the opening and pours to the ground.
>Then, acting as if you are surprised, you hastily feign to correct your "mistake", and slip on the puddle of water that has formed beneath you.




>You deliberately reel towards the knight.
>The stallion instantly catches you in turn, spinning you around as he grapples your proxy.
>Then he holds you tight.
>A fairly trivial task for him, with his firm servo-supported limbs.
>"Watch them."
>So you do.
>You scan the remote area with the highest possible range setting and immediately spot four signatures.
>And something is strange about the affair, as you quickly realise.
>Because the party is just barely outside your standard perimeter scanning range.
>If your followers had come only a few metres closer to you, they would have been spotted by your HUD automatically.
>Coincidence?
>Unlikely.
>However, you only get one visual confirmation by your augmented vision.
>You see no signs of the other three at the moment, which concerns you a little bit.
>For it proves their talent of not being seen.
>And so far you have only met one pony on this game field who could accomplish this without the help of enchanted tools.
>Whilst you try to study the target in question, your "captor" makes a scene to create the illusion of an accident.
>"Ha ha ha! Dainty, you dolt! Look at the mess you made! Can commoners not even hold bags these days?"
>You feel his performance sounds lightly contrived and overly acted.
>But then again, so does most of the Order's bravado as well, and deliberately so.
>Perhaps it is convincing enough for the scavengers who are used to this kind of behaviour.
>Yet you pay no mind to the obvious banter and concentrate on the group who followed your tracks instead.
>You lightly zoom in on the spot where you have located the pony in question, and it reveals a darkly tanned mane that tries to hide behind a meagre bush.
>What is even worse, you recognise this hue and haircut.
>And bet a lifetime of bits on the wager that said hair is attached to a mildly lighter coat of a particular scavenger stallion.
"Oh damn it. Not again."
>The knight replies to your comment over the covert comm channel.
>"You know these ponies, I take it."
>And you whisper respectively, just in case.
"Yeah. This pal over there caused some trouble recently."
>"Care to elaborate?"
"Let me go first. They won't buy the scene if you hold me for too long."
>He releases you from his grip without a comment.
>You pick up the waterskin from the ground and get back to holding it underneath the faucet whilst the knight reaches for the lever of the pump a second time.
"Fast version. That pony over there is Scrap Mender from the scavengers. He was the instructor who introduced me to the game. Told him I am a courier. And he sent out his band to ambush me at the first hurdle."
>"How many?"
>"With him, four. Three Earth ponies, one Unicorn."
>"And how did it go?"
"Sent them packing. Twice."
>"Heh, so you snubbed the scavengers and the Pegasi in one go?"
"Took me one and a half days."




>One of the mares laughs.
>"You have a talent for making enemies, Initiate."
"I guess. No idea how he found me so fast though. The last time I saw him, he was bound firmly in rope. And that was last night."
>It only dawns on you after the fact how easily this remark could be misunderstood if interpreted in a less than savoury fashion.
>Thankfully though, the trio either does not get the hunch, or simply ignores it.
>"He most likely bought the rumour from the Pegasi who attacked us."
>Bought the rumour?
>So he paid scouts from another faction to tell him where you are?
>"Or..."
>The stallion continues to ponder.
>"... he has put a tracking bounty on your head. With guaranteed spoils for those who give him reliable crumbs of information on your whereabouts."
>Even worse if true.
>Doubly so since Mender might just be motivated enough to actually go this far.
>Oh hell, that horse is out for blood.
>And damn those cursed talkative feather brains.
>It must have been one of them.
>The message could have even spread before the fight began, as the two fleeting Pegasi have seen you clearly in the open.
>After all, thwarting their ambush did not make you very popular amongst these ponies either.
>So them letting the message circulate could be a way to indirectly show their regards to you.
>And if a potential prize is attached to the intel, you can absolutely see the incentive for them.
>"Heh, the look on your face speaks volumes."
>You shake your head.
"What?"
>"Don't worry. He won't get you as long as you're our initiate. And no single scavenger group will dare to attack us."
>Translation: You better behave or you lose our cover.
>But at least they do not think you are in league with the other four ponies.
"Yeah, but there's a scroll in my bag for their leader too."
>"A problem, to be sure."
>Albeit not theirs, as he is tacitly stating.
>"But we all grow with our challenges, don't we?"
>Yes, whatever.
>Enough of this.
>Focus on the first goal for now.
>The bunker of the knights is your current destination, scavengers be damned.
>Priorities and all that.
>You pull your waterskin away as soon as it is filled to the brim, seal it, and return to the wagon, together with the trio.
>There is nothing you can do about Mender spying on you as it seems.
>And the knights have no reason to help you against him and his group anyway.
>Because why should they?
>He is no threat to them, and a small band of four scavengers will never be able to storm a reinforced bunker complex with dozens of heavily armoured and well skilled inhabitants who would zealously defend each and every centimetre of their home.
>But on the plus side of things, his hooves are tied as well, given that you are wholly out of his reach until your honorary title runs out.
>Unless...
"I couldn't, by any chance, join you for a longer duration?"
>"Unfortunately no. You said it yourself, you are only here for the mission, and not for the ideal. Your heart is not in the right spot."
>Figures.




>"Besides, you do not meet the minimal level requirement if this is your first visit."
"The what?"
>"The minimal level requirement for membership. You can only join in full and climb in rank when you reach certain level thresholds."
"What sense does that make?"
>"Isn't it obvious? Why would you want to join a Knighthood when you can't even maintain your equipment for the next cycle?"
>You think back to #deca.mare's words.
>Dedicated ponies with a more advanced level can start with some additional gear, depending on their progress and the value of the items in question.
>And high tech heavy armour must surely be on the more expensive end of the price list.
>#deca.mare swiftly helps you out with that information.
>"It is the most 'expensive' option available. And to balance things out, knights can only start with their armour when they pick nothing else. Including ammunition or other common things."
>A considerable drawback to be sure, but the advantages of this sort of equipment are obvious too.
>But small wonder that the knights have developed a habit of collecting things like bloody magpies when they have to deal with critical shortages on virtually every front in the early phases of each cycle.
>If the other factions manage to hamper their progress early on, the knights are in some serious logistical trouble.
>In this regard, however, you mirror the stance of the Order.
>That is wholly their problem to repeatedly deal with.
>And so you return to your previous canter formation and leave the pumping site.
>With some luck, this was the last interruption before you are at the bunker.
>Though as it turns out, that it is not the case.
>Your group stumbles across a collection of small metal crates, deployed by someone in the middle of nowhere.
>And interestingly enough, it is marked by a small flag that was stuck into the ground.
>The cloth of the banner depicts a stylisation of...
"... a box? What's up with that?"
>The response is swift and brash.
>"Don't touch it!"
"What, is it trapped?"
>"No."
"Does it belong to someone... above you?"
>"Sun and Moon beware, no."
"So what's the deal?"
>The stallion sighs.
>"Sites like these are stuffed with 'rebound crates'. Containers for ponies who were beaten and are subsequently strapped for resources. They contain..."
"... basic gear to get started anew?"
>"Yes."
"And no honourable knight would be seen around one of those, correct?"
>"Naturally. We do have standards for a reason."
>Of course, of course.
>You look at the site again and wonder whether ponies would besiege places like these to trap other players.
>Yet you swiftly come to the conclusion that this makes no sense, as one cannot rob someone blind who has nothing that could get removed.
>Simultaneously, there is no point in emptying those when the players in question already have some gear at their disposal.




>Whatever they possess would already be superior to what they could acquire here.
>Good to know, though you hope to never get to the point where you have to rely on this particular feature.
>So you pass the crates, with a respectable distance as to not associate the knights with any such lowly place of course, and move on as if nothing happened.
>Although you notice that this spot has been marked as "visited" on your interactive map, and was automatically named as "Rebound Crate Site" by your HUD.
>Fair enough, you suppose, since you have basically learned what the place is about.
>But at last, an end of this particular taxing journey is in sight, and quite literally so.
>A construct appears on the horizon, and you can tell with a brief glance from the distance that this place is special, as it deviates heavily from the other sites you have seen up to this point.
>Whereas locations like the mostly abandoned hamlet or the smaller walled towns are basically deliberately worn down and thematically adapted counterpart variants of architecture that can be found all over Equestria, this special base stands out in all aspects.
>It is an almost simple looking construct.
>A blocky building, about two levels high.
>Made primarily out of reinforced concrete.
>The thing has none of the visually appealing decorations or welcoming warm colours that are so widespread in this world.
>It is nothing but hard, grey, lumpen, cemented walls.
>Surrounded on all sides by dully-hued dust and dirt.
>A sight that would almost certainly give Rarity a heart attack.
>And apart from an imposing metal entry gate which almost rivals the heaviest security blast doors on board of your terraformer mother ship, there is no other visible cavity on the outer walls.
>No windows, no nothing.
>It is obvious to virtually any observer that this relatively little surface construction is only the gateway to a larger tunnel complex.
>But based on this sight alone, you cannot make any educated guesses about the actual size of the bunker.
>Though it cannot be that small, given its alleged capacity to house a relatively large group of ponies plus their equipment.
>Also, there must at least be an air well or another similar ventilation system somewhere, but you fail to spot any obvious indications as for where that opening may be.
>It is probably well hidden somewhere in the vast planes nearby.
>And to top it all off, the knights have surrounded the building with an iron mesh fence, leaving only one opening to approach the gate from.
>Which is, unsurprisingly directly in front of the main entrance.
>So unless a spellcaster with teleportation skills is involved, the only way to get to the door is right from the front.
>Where a pair of armoured ponies is stationed.
>To function as sentries and gatekeepers in one, no doubt.
>You assume these two are what the knight referred to as the Castle Guard.




>Hm, there is not much of a castle to be seen, but oh well.
>The metaphor serves well enough, you suppose.
>And what would a textbook knight be without his castle, right?
>The stallion right next to you addresses the most pressing matter as he sees you eyeing the two ponies near the entrance.
>"Let us do the talking. Only say something when you're being spoken to, understand?"
>The patronising undertones in his speech are grating on your nerves, but you see his point.
>After all, you will be a guest in this complex, and they put their reputation on the line for you.
>So you best play the part of the polite little commoner who does not overstay his welcome.
"Sure."
>The guards notice your swift approach fairly quickly, and the moment one of the two spots you, they assume a stiff pose to make themselves look more commanding.
>Neat display, but it does not have that much of an impact on you as they surely think it has.
>Regardless though, things are going to enter the next hot phase in mere moments.
>The knight on your side gradually slows down, so you do the logical thing and mirror his behaviour.
>A moment later, one of the guards raises a forehoof, while you are still more than a dozen metres away from the mesh.
>"Halt! What is the meaning of this?"
>The two guards trot away from the metal door, and towards the opening in the fence.
>They perform their little strut almost in complete lockstep.
>And your group comes to a stop, about five metres in front of them.
>Obviously, the pair eyes you very thoroughly.
>You can practically feel the sensors in their suits scanning you.
>But you follow the advice given by your "superior" and say nothing.
>You simply stand still and let it happen.
>Meanwhile, the armoured stallion begins to explain the situation.
>"We have returned with another wagon haul for our stockpiles. And this commoner here has come with us to deliver a message for the Elder."
>The guard tilts his head.
>"Bringing outsiders into the base is against the creed, Knight Spear."
>Spear, hm?
>Probably a pseudonym like Aegis.
>"I know. But he delivers a message from the Sun. And he has the items to prove it."
>The impression levels of the gatekeepers are still notably low.
>"Yes, I see that. But it makes me wonder how a commoner with so much filth on him has come into the possession of these precious casings."
>He thinks you have stolen them?
>Now that is a new one.
>"This commoner has spoken the truth. And he has shown the proficiency of his agency. In fact, he..."
>Say it, Spear.
>You saved their rears from a severe spanking.
>"... proved to be a valuable help during an ambush of the Pegasi."
>Or that.
>Works too, you suppose.
>"And we granted him the temporary title of Honorary Initiate for the duration of his mission."
>"Is that so?"
>The two mares and Aegis nod in unison.




>"Well if that is the case, give me the casings. I want to see them myself."
>You hesitantly reach into one of your bags and unearth one of the desired items.
>Then you slowly trot towards the knight who faces you and offer it to him.
>He takes the aureate container to inspect it from up close, certainly scanning the surface and the embroidered enchantment.
>After a short while, he nods.
>"Hm, the seal is legitimate. And the shape looks alright too. Yes, this casing was sealed by the princess."
>You still say nothing and wait.
>Then, he slowly begins to turn around.
>"I will deliver this to the Elder in due time."
>Red flag.
>That was not part of the deal.
>So you react in kind.
"No, you don't."
>The guard freezes for a split second before he faces you again, menacingly moving his armoured head closer to yours.
>But even at this close range, you cannot see past the thick lenses of the armour.
>All you see is a metal visage with two unnatural looking eye sockets.
>Still, you stand.
>The guard, on the other hand, is less than pleased.
>"What did you say, little one?"
"I said no. I was tasked with the mission to deliver the message, and so it is me who has to do it. By my honour as a courier."
>"Well spoken. But what do you want to do, hm? Stop me?"
>You do not need to see the smug grin of the guard to know that it is there.
>So, you simply mirror his smile, despite your tactically hopeless situation.
"If I have to... yes."
>And to prove your point, you let your prisms spark to signal your readiness to fire.
>"You have no chance, commoner. I could pound you into the ground in a second."
"Doesn't matter. I have an oath to heed."
>You pause.
"Besides, that's not my first disadvantageous position today. You don't scare me."
>You grin again.
"And I won't let you stop me from accomplishing my mission."
>Complete silence follows up next.
>The guard and you remain locked in your close face-off.
>Whilst all the other ponies around you stand still as if they are frozen on their spots.
>You do not think that the guards see many ponies who dare to stand up to them like this, if they have seen it at all.
>Still, #deca.mare's hint to really ham up the courier oath has worked fairly well so far, so you hope it will carry you through the murky waters ahead one last time.
>Because once you are inside, you have almost won.
>The silence continues for a few more seconds as the overall tension rises.
>Yet you stoutly hold your ground and see what the guard in front of you does.
>It all depends on him now.
>And as you stare into the stiff metal visage in front of you, you notice that the armour of this stallion is slightly different.
>The general shapes are the same when compared to the sets of the trio, yet there are a few varying nuances.
>And those cannot be explained by aspects such as body shapes or the personal size of individual wearers.




>For instance, the pony in front of you has a symbol on his forehead.
>It is a wrench that crosses the stylised depiction of a thunderbolt.
>Eyeing the other castle guard in the periphery of your vision, you realise that this one has a symbol on the helmet as well.
>Albeit a different one.
>This pony bears the mark of a crosshair which is surrounded by a laurel wreath.
>Then, you manage to get a glimpse of the flanks of said pony, and notice that the platings on the side are decorated with the same crosshair.
>Exactly on the spot where the pony's Cutie Mark is supposed to be.
>Perhaps, you wager, that actually is the Mark of this knight.
>If so, you already know to never challenge this guard to an accuracy challenge, as you are likely to lose this particular match.
>Badly.
>Eventually, the guard in front of you lowers his head lightly as if in thought.
>In the very next second, he starts to laugh heartily.
>However, you remain motionless to prove your resolution.
>And after the guard has somewhat recovered from his laughing fit, he addresses you again.
>"I have got to say, commoner, you've some audacious determination in your bones. That's respectable."
>He offers you the scroll.
>You carefully take it and store the casing in your bag again.
>"You may pass. Bring your message to the Elder."
>He turns away from you to look at Aegis and the others.
>"And you will watch him while he is in our domain, Spear. You vouched for the courier, so it is your responsibility that he behaves himself in accordance to his rank."
>"Of course."
>In other words, Spear still has you on his leash.
>But there are at least no further apparent hurdles on your way to the Elder's office.
>Or whatever the ponies have down there.
>The pair of guards backs off gracefully to return to their posts before waving the five of you through.
>Spear marches ahead, followed by the two mares.
>You fall in line behind them, and Aegis plus the wagon form the rear.
>Sir Spear, fully living up to his title as the spearhead of your group, walks up to the door without hesitation.
>And as soon as he is almost in front of the large metal monstrosity, he turns to the right, heading for something directly next to the security gate.
>You notice a small crevice in the concrete that features an input panel of sorts, as well as a socket.
>This piques your interest, as you have never seen this particular design before and want to see how it works.
>But unfortunately for your curiosity, the two mares have sensed that, despite your strange knowledge of some of their crowning achievements, this one seems to be novel to you.
>And so they quickly trot between you and the console to block your sight with the bulky rears of their metal suits.
>You probably know way too much already, as far as they are concerned.
>"Order secret, Initiate. You do not have the clearance to see it."
>Bah.
>#deca?
>How does it work?




>The friendly encyclopaedia for all your pony needs satiates your curiosity on the spot.
>"It is a two-level security system. In order to gain entry, a knight must do two things. First, an Order suit has to be connected to the console. This is done by putting an armoured forehoof on the socket. Each suit has an individual marker to identify the wearer, so the console can recognise who is making the request."
>And the second stage?
>"After the scan has verified the identity, said knight has to enter a special code that is tied to this particular pony. Only when both criteria are met, and match, does the gate unlock. This is supposed to thwart any attempts to get into the complex by using looted suits."
>Sounds overly paranoid, but this does not really surprise you, considering the personae that these ponies play in the game.
>Though the system does prevent outsiders from getting in, even if they overwhelm the guards and try to use one of their pieces to enter the facility.
>"There is also another method to unlock the door, but this one is only known by the Elder and a couple of the most prominent members of their Knighthood. It is a safety feature for the highly unlikely case that the entirety of their crew locks itself out or is stripped of their gear for some reason."
>So there you have it.
>All the intel that the mares wanted to hide, and more.
>And only a moment later, you get to witness the success of such an unlocking procedure.
>A sound chimes from the console, followed by some audible clicking and clanging noises coming from the door.
>You quickly realise that the gate is indeed an exact replica of the largest blast door you have on your ship in orbit.
>A complicated mechanism of intersecting locks is set in the dead centre of the door, and it now automatically unravels itself after the appropriate order was given.
>Once this part of the procedure is complete, the metal bulwark "breaks apart" into four evenly sized compartments that automatically slide into the walls, the floor, and the ceiling with an ominous rumble.
>You are sure the ruckus can easily be heard in a radius of a kilometre or two, as it is the very opposite of subtle.
>Which also fits to the mindset of the knights, you reckon.
>They want to be heard, and seen, when they are making a move on the surface.
>Only the things hidden beneath the earth are meant to be off-limits for any prying eyes.
>After the noise and rumbling have passed, no apparent trace of the sturdy gate remains visible to the naked eye.
>The pathway into the interior looks as if there had never been a hindrance in the first place.
>Well, now you understand why the surface structure of the bunker must have the height of a building with two levels.
>The upper quarter of the door needs the room to make way when it is opened.
>One of the mares turns her head to look at you.
>"Impressive, isn't it?"




>Hm, you guess she hopes to see you speechless or surprised.
>Though she has tried her luck on one of the only two wrong candidates on the entire planet for this stunt.
>You shrug.
"It's... quite homely."
>A pity that you cannot see the expression on the mare as you nonchalantly shrug off the most imposing effect of the entire building.
>Either way, Spear leads the five of you inside.
>And the room within is about as functionally decorated as you have expected.
>The design is kept in the same concrete grey as the exterior, though in here you can detect some visible traces of metal beams and rebar as well.
>However, you notice two peculiar things.
>One, the artificial lighting in here resembles that of the terraformer tunnels underneath Equestria, albeit with a mildly higher intensity.
>And two, the room looks like a dead end, for you face a solid concrete wall on the other side.
>No apparent holes, and no ramp leading downwards either.
>You find yourself in a simple rectangular chamber with no other apparent exit.
>You quickly find an explanation though, given that somepony has at least taken the time to adorn this room with a couple of maps and sketches here and there.
>A purely utilitarian choice, sure, but it does bring some variety into the otherwise monochrome room.
>And it is informative at the same time.
>With one brief glance, you learn the rough outline of the bunker complex, and what can be found in each individual segment.
>As it turns out, the bunker is divided into four different subterranean levels that are all connected with each other by one main shaft.
>Which in turn seems to be traversed with a sort of elevator system.
>And not really to your surprise, the room you are currently in towers on the top of the diagram as the fifth and final layer.
>Hm, this means there must be an elevator in here.
>So you look around for any traces of exactly that.
>Sure enough, you do spot a large rounded platform in the centre of the room that is embedded nearly seamlessly into the floor.
>In fact, the gap between the two is so small that you did not even notice it until now.
>Looks like that mystery could be solved in the blink of an eye.
>And in case of the elevator being out of order for whatever reason, there seem to be two separate stairways built around the shaft that lead all the way from the top to the bottom of the complex, so that the ponies above and below are not stuck in place if there is an unforeseen malfunction of any kind.
>Although judging from the bulky armour you have seen so far, and the narrow pathways you can make out on the plan, you cannot imagine that ponies in full apparel would be very mobile in there.
>It is only a method of last resort, after all.




>Plus, you need the perceptive scanning abilities of your goggles to even spot the doors on this level in the first place, as they mix even better with the surrounding concrete than the elevator platform.
>They also sport no manual mechanism to open them with from this side.
>Another design choice to make things even harder for potential invaders, you assume.
>If anyone gets this far into the bunker, said hypothetical invaders would have to tear the doors open to get access to the narrow stairs.
>And then they would have to fight their way to the next level from here on out.
>Further reducing the chances of a successful raid drastically.
>It would take a literal mastermind to penetrate this facility with brute force, that much is sure.
>You quickly glance over the map a second time.
>If the plan is to be believed, every level of the bunker serves a different distinct purpose.
>The first holds various rooms full of bunks and a small recreational area.
>Plus a kitchen room and at least one sanitary chamber.
>The chart does not reveal exactly how and with what criteria in mind the quarters have been organised, but it seems that these rooms can hold anywhere from two or three, and up to ten sleeping places in one chamber.
>Privacy may be quite limited down there, but you have no idea how these ponies interact with one another either, so you cannot be the judge on that.
>For all you know, they may even sleep in their gear.
>Or with each other, whilst fully geared up.
>Though you do your damnedest not to imagine two humping metal ponies, as you cannot afford a fit of laughter right about now.
>The second level appears to consist of a number of dedicated storage areas for resources and related material.
>Not much else to see here since you are no looter.
>Sub-level three is split in a workshop section to repair or otherwise work on some gear, and a training room to test out said equipment.
>Most likely in the form of sparring bouts.
>And the fourth is the one you are interested in the most.
>Assembly room and central organisation.
>This is where the Elder has his own bureau.
>To deal with... whatever an elder of a band of exo-suit loving ponies with a knack for strange forms of chivalry and an elevated ego has to deal with every day.
>So this is where you have to go.
>The lowest area of the entire bunker.
>And you suppose they do not allow you to use the stairs on your own either.
>Your suspicion gets confirmed almost immediately, as Spear leads your merry little group onto the circular platform.
>"Stand still now, Initiate."
>Fine.
>As you are doing what has been asked of you, your sensors pick up an energy signature springing up to life directly beneath you.
>The elevator slowly begins to stir and move downwards.

Footnote: Found sector dominated by the Knighthood. Tread with caution.




2077.5

"I am a horse, and I'm digging a hole!" - A chant, especially popular amongst equines of smaller stature.

>The platform descends down the shaft in a fairly slow, yet regular pace.
>You take a good look at the scene while you follow your, well, literal standing order.
>It is effectively the only thing you can do at the moment.
>From your perspective, the walls around you seemingly grow gradually as they are on the move.
>And the room above your head starts to look as if it shrinks at the exact same pace.
>This is of course all a simple visual effect, caused by your steady downward trajectory.
>But you would not be surprised if it might catch one or the other unaware pony by surprise.
>Surely another useful tool to impress a few actual initiates.
>If only for the fact that such a sight is an absolute rarity in this world.
>Once the platform has reached a safe distance to the surface layer, a hatch closes the gaping hole in the floor of the ground level that was left by the now absent elevator.
>The five of you are now virtually sealed underneath the surface.
>But you do not feel alarmed in the slightest.
>And you let the others know that too.
"How do you control this thing? I've never seen anything like this in all of Equestria."
>"What, didn't your special sources brief you on this one too?"
"Not all-encompassing. I assume you control it with...an enchantment in your helmet, though I don't know the details."
>"That is a part of the mechanism. But there are more components to it. And no, don't ask. This information..."
"... is not meant for initiates, right?"
>"Right."
>Spear's answer is gruff, to remind you that you shall watch your manners in here.
>You are the lowest rank amongst the knights, so you should act accordingly and at least show a modicum of respect.
>You would be really stupid if you risked to get booted this closely to the goal.
>Due to a lack of decorum, of all things.
>No matter how stilted it may be.
>Only a few short moments later, you reach the first underground level.
>You can infer this much, since the outlines of an automatic door appear in front of you.
>The platform comes to a stop at the precise height of its threshold, creating a near seamless transit between the elevator and the hallway that you assume to be on the other side.
>After the platform has been firmly secured by another mechanism, which you can hear doing its work somewhere behind the walls of the shaft, the sturdy door unlocks itself and opens up.
>Whether this whole process is fully automated or still requires a few instructions from a knight remains unclear to you.
>And it would change very little in the grand scheme of this place.
>Regardless of that though, you manage to get a glimpse of the first bunker level.
>Which turns out to be, quite unsurprisingly, a straight lit pathway.
>Made out of even more metal and concrete.
>The plan at the entrance was one hundred percent accurate in this regard.




>As you are looking a little further into the tunnel, you can make out a junction in the distance.
>Maybe a dozen or so metres away.
>And if you read the plan correctly, these ways split up after a while as well, leading to a myriad of different dormitory rooms of varying sizes.
>Though you doubt you will get to see any of that in person.
>You listen up as Spear addresses his two armoured companions.
>"Go ahead and take a break. I will deal with the outsider."
>"Are you sure?"
>"Yes. The Castle Guard named me the responsible one. So it is my task, not yours."
>"Alright. See you later, Spear."
>The three salute to each other before the mares leave the platform.
>And the last thing you see of the two is them turning to the side and disappearing in one of the corridors, shortly before the doors close again.
"Uhm, excuse me, Sp... Sir Spear, but aren't there sanitary installations on this level?"
>"There are. Though I suppose that knowledge has no tactical use to you."
"No, it doesn't. But shouldn't I take a short detour there to make myself, well, more presentable to the Elder?"
>And it is not like you have no reason to ask that either.
>After all, with several tumbles through the mud and one red-stained bandage on your leg, you are not exactly on the most visually appealing end of the spectrum right now.
>The elevator begins to move on downwards anyway.
>"I don't think so. The Castle Guard must have informed level four of our arrival already. And you would not want to keep the Elder waiting, now do you?"
>You are almost tempted to call that an excuse, until #deca.mare comments on his statement.
>"He is genuine about this, Anon. Since he vouched for you, every bad behaviour of yours would make him appear in a bad light as well.
>And bringing a pig pen of a pony into the bureau of their leader is better?
>"Well, he can still argue that you are a mere commoner after the fact. And commoners do not have the same high standards as knights, right?"
>Judging by his decision to bring you down there immediately, he must sure think so.
>Oh man, looks like you are going to be the part of a few jokes around here even after you have left.
>But whatever.
>You are not likely to return here either way.
>Whatever they say about you is none of your concern, as it has no effect on the wider world outside.
>Just like #deca.mare said, what happens in the wastes, stays in the wastes.
>The elevator halts again as you have reached the second door, and Spear motions you to make way for the wagon.
>Aegis, whom you have almost forgotten to still be with you, quiet as he was the whole time, nods once to both you and Spear before he departs to disappear in the corridor.
>You guess he too is going to unhitch himself from the wagon, and take good long rest after today's tumultuous happenstances.
>Only Spear and you are left in the shaft now.




>He sets the elevator to descend a third time.
>The platform skips the next level entirely, heading straight for the last one.
>And you take a deep breath once the doors to the command level are in sight.
>You are not sure what to expect on the other side, yet you are fully aware that you now have to keep your wits together.
>Do not try anything rash.
>Your platform comes to a stop with a thud, indicating that it has reached the bottom of the shaft.
>And the passage opens itself, just like the other two.
>You immediately spot a difference though.
>Whilst the general architecture mirrors the limited insight you got from the other areas, the command level is far more busy.
>You can see at least four knights in full panoply guarding this hallway alone.
>And there are certainly more behind the other junctions too.
>Plus, you notice that their equipment differs greatly from that of Spear and his friends.
>Similar to the "Castle Guard", these suits are decorated with individual symbols on each pony's head and flanks.
>But on top of that, they are much more elaborately designed from a visual perspective.
>Practically all of them have custom icons and symbols added to various parts of their armour, their metal has been polished to absolute perfection, and some even went so far as to give their equipment a special paint job.
>Every single suit is a unique, and yet they still posses enough common resemblance to make it clear that they all belong to the same team.
>No wonder that Daring said they do everything to retain their gear if they lose it.
>Some of these pieces must have taken weeks or even months to be made in their entirety, and you can tell just by looking at them that these ponies have poured their artistic hearts into the work.
>But as fascinating as you find it to simply look at the display of heavy armour all around you while Sir Spear guides you through the seemingly labyrinthine corridors, you wonder why these ponies down here have such artistic masterpieces, whereas Spear and his group have variants that look almost like basic templates in comparison.
>Is it a matter of rank?
>Once again, you get your answer from orbit.
>"Only indirectly. Barring physical limits, there are no restrictions on how knights can modify the pieces of their own armour. Both in functional and aesthetic aspects. They all start out with the same base chassis, but how they modify their gear over time is up to the personal penchant and talents of each individual knight."
>And where does the indirect part kick in?
>"That modifying armour requires resources. And the more resources a knight has brought home, the higher the share of what said knight can claim for personal tinkering purposes. Hence the general correlation of longer membership to higher ranks and a higher degree of customisation. There are exceptions to the rule though."




>So the three are basically lower rank beginners?
>"No, they are one of the exceptions I mentioned. Because they refuse to modify theirs at all."
>Why is that?
>"They fear that doing so could accidentally reveal their identities. You see, putting one's Cutie Mark on the armour is generally the first thing a new knight does. I think you can see the problem here."
>So they hide their identity behind a pretence instead.
>By vowing to remain blank plates all the way through, to stifle any further questions.
>"Precisely. And their decision earned them the unofficial moniker of the 'Gravel Squad'."
>Heh, it seems like you are not the only one who has to live with a bit of teasing banter while dealing with this circle of ponies.
>They do this thing just as well with each other.
>Purely in jest of course, but still.
>Spear leads you to another junction.
>Up to this point you have seen nothing but corridors, walls, and locked automatic doors with guards standing nearby.
>Whether these ponies are always here, or just stationed on this level for the duration of your visit, is unclear to you.
>You consider both options to be equally likely, yet you fancy to believe the second one is true.
>Because it would mean that all the oh so great knights in their magnificent armour have been assigned to your "honour guard", helping you to stay honourable by not letting you snoop around or hide somewhere.
>Another turn, and you notice that Spear has steered you into a dead end of sorts with two doors.
>One is located right at the straight end of the corridor, and the other is embedded into the right wall about halfway to the former.
>Additionally, the latter door catches your attention, as it is the only one which is unlocked and opened on this level.
>Is this the bureau you are heading to?
>You find out a moment later, since Spear promptly walks past the opening on the right.
>So you follow him dutifully.
>Albeit not without taking a quick look inside the room as you pass the door.
>It is a briefing centre.
>A stage plus podium has been built on the opposite side of the room.
>And rows of finely carved wooden stools have been placed neatly all the way through the hall.
>The last row is less than three metres away from your current position in the corridor.
>Overall, you esitmate that the capacity is probably sufficient to assemble the entire Order in there if necessary.
>Although you doubt that the attending ponies are bringing their armour along.
>It would only artificially stuff the room for no tactical reason, and surely lead to a lot of splinters in the process.
>However, the place is wholly deserted at the moment, as you do not spot a single pony in there.
>"Are you done eyeballing our conference room? You won't find anything in there."




>You notice that Spear has stopped walking, and turned his head to look at you.
>Probably with a light scowl on his armoured face.
"Oh, what? Of course."
>You pass the opening and catch up with him.
>The knight then touches a button near the other doorframe with an armoured hoof, and waits for a short moment.
>A new voice talks to you through a speaker.
>"Yes?"
>Male, certainly older.
>"Esteemed Elder, your guest is here."
>"Good. Let him enter and return to your quarters."
>"Sir? You want me to leave you two alone?"
>"I don't need a foalsitter."
>"But security protocols say..."
>"You think a courier from the princess is here to pull a fast one on me?"
>"I... guess not."
>"I can handle him. Take a break and leave the business to us."
>"Yes, Elder. Of course."
>Spear steps aside to give you the room to approach the door with no further comment or gesture.
>You blink in mild confusion to see him this cooperative, as he has invested a considerable effort in keeping you on your toes so far.
>Then again, he now acts in accordance to the orders given to him by his leader.
>He has to obey them despite his own thoughts.
>A notion you understand all too well.
>And you wonder what kind of pony the Elder is.
>Maybe an older, but still Herculean Earth pony in a super heavy knight armour?
>You figure that somepony who matches this description would be the perfect leader for a bunch combative "knights" with an unusual sense of sportsmanship.
>A shining idol who leads by example.
>A paragon who does not shy away to stand at the front line of every major assault on other factions.
>The most chivalrous and honourable stallion there is.
>At least in the Order's own way.
>The doors to the bureau open up.
>And instead of your fantasy super knight, you see another heavily robed figure.
>Sitting behind a sturdy and artistically crafted wooden desk.
>Simlar to Aegis, most of his features are somewhat obsurred by the cloth.
>But you make out enough to see that he is not the muscular stud you would have expected.
>On the contrary, he appears to be rather sleek.
>Not directly scrawny or weak, but certainly not the heaviest of pushers that roams these halls beneath the surface.
>But at least in one thing did your projection not fail you.
>The stallion is indeed an Earth pony.
>Who now looks up from a stack of paperwork, ledgers, and scrolls to inspect you.
>Judging from the Elder's face and his general behaviour, you think he might be about three decades older than Mender.
>He is a little beyond his prime, yet still in a fairly good shape, and nowhere near a senile condition whatsoever.
>Both in physical and mental aspects, as it seems.




>As you notice in a matter of moments, he also has a strangely sharp pierce to his gaze.
>You do not perceive any malicious intent or animosity in his manner of observing you, yet you feel as if he would be scanning you with an actual sensor.
>This is a cunning one, and no doubt about it.
>Strange, you somehow think that he wants you to know this as well.
>Though you have no clue why.
>Either way, the Elder takes the initiative fairly quickly, and talks to you in an almost casual manner.
>"Come in, come in. Don't be shy."
>Hm, seems like a good start so far.
>Yet you should not allow that to lull you in a false sense of security on the last steps towards your first achievement.
>You enter the bureau of the Elder and examine the interior of the room.
>Its overall decor is far more personalised than the rest of the bunker, as you quickly realise.
>The first thing you notice is that even though the walls in here are made of the same cold grey concrete as the rest of the complex, they are nevertheless almost completely plastered with images and framed documents from all over Equestria.
>Portraits of landscapes.
>From the north to the south, and the east to the west.
>Several commendations from different ponies in high places.
>A couple of different emblems which are given out to individuals who have done exceptional deeds in one field or another.
>Paired with a decent number of medals.
>And, what surprises you the most, you do not recognise all of them on the spot.
>But both the honorary medal of Fillydelphia and Canterlot tell you all you need to know.
>This pony has been busy.
>If they were all awarded to this Elder, then he must have travelled through the entire realm in the course of his life.
>Although you do have to wonder how on Earth and Equestria he managed to obtain the Golden Wing Badge of Cloudsdale, as he neither possesses wings nor traditional magic spells to walk on clouds.
>"Take a seat, good courier."
>The Elder points at a cushion lying directly in front of his desk.
>Seems like the stallion does not care that you could dirty the seat in your current state.
>So you sit down as requested and try your luck with a perfectly generic, albeit somewhat stilted opener.
"Greetings, esteemed Elder."
>Not the most charismatic way to open the conversation with, but you hope it is appropriate for the circumstances you are in.
>The Elder does at least show no signs of resentment towards your choice of words.
>And he rather begins to neatly push the conversation along instead.




>"So, you are the famed Pegasus I've heard so much about?"
"Uhm, I'm not sure how much you have heard of me, but I don't think 'famed' is the right word."
>"Is it not? You have saved one of our teams from a crushing defeat at the hooves of the feathered nettlers from above."
>He blinks and pauses.
>"No offence, of course."
"None taken."
>How does he know that much though?
>Spear's comment to the guard about your help was not that explicit, given that he merely acknowledged your help.
>He must have learned that from someone else.
>Somehow.
>Could it be that he also "bought" the information from the Pegasi?
>But if he did, how could he have heard of it down here, and this fast?
>"The answer to your first question is yes."
>You widen your eyes in surprise.
>Hold the hell on.
>Did he really just say that?
>"You would be surprised how easy it is to listen to ponies who have their heads, and muzzles, in the clouds. The wind carries their voices far and wide. You know what I mean, don't you."
>You blink in astonishment.
>He must have some sort of listening device.
>Either directly in here, or somewhere else in the bunker.
>But how did he read your mind?
>#deca.mare interjects your thoughts briefly.
>"He did not."
>Then what else did he do to manage that feat?
>You decide to ask that question up front.
"How did you know my question?"
>"Because you are sharper than you pretend to be. And you know a lot more than many."
>You do not like where this is going.
>At all.
"What makes you say that?"
>The stallion pauses shortly to clear his throat.
>"Well, let us just say that you somehow affecting the enchantment of our suits gave a me a few hints."
>Damn it, what kind of trap did you stumble into?
>You shake your head.
>"You act surprised? You should not. Did you think that our scribes were slacking at their craft?"
"What do you mean?"
>"I mean bound enchantments in the metal that sense and block magical interference from outsiders. They were implemented after these crazy spell smiths from the other pit have tried to remotely control our magic suits with their own counter incantations."
>Shit.
>You fell for a security mechanism that phoned home when you forced your way into their communication channel.
>#deca, why did you not warn me?
>"Because you were adamant in your wish to get back into the conversation, Anon. So I did not waste any time to circumvent these security protocols."
>Ugh.
>#deca.mare could have easily done this in a single moment, but you understand the reason why she did not.
>She wants you to get a feeling for the flair of the game, and that means to make some decisions now and then.
>But you also have to deal with the consequences of your choices.
>She may help you out when you need her the most, but you are still meant to play this game yourself.
>And now you have to manoeuvre yourself out of a tight spot of your own making.
>A point that the Elder hammers home very blatantly.




>"But only the first half of our charms worked this time. When a Pegasus of all ponies was at work."
>His words sound like an insult, yet you are aware that this is not the case.
>After all, there are not many Pegasi in Equestria who can tap the source from whence classic Equestrian magic spells flow.
>And the exceedingly few individuals who did manage to do such a feat, were only able to reach that level after growing a horn of their own.
>The best known example of that is a certain pink regent in the far north.
>But since you do not appear to have ascended like Cadence, you understand why the Elder is interested in what he thinks you have done to the suits of his companions.
>His next sentence confirms your suspicion.
>"And between the two of us, I'm curious how this can be a thing."
>He remains perfectly calm during the entirety of his speech, yet you can feel the pressure rising with every single word he utters.
>You try to formulate an appropriate answer in your mind, but quickly find yourself struggling in your search for a compelling argument.
>A fact that the Elder notices as well.
>"You hesitate? Why?"
>You clear your voice to buy yourself another second.
>Then you decide to go for the most obvious, albeit also very cheap answer.
"I, uhm, am not sure what to tell you."
>He raises an eyebrow.
>"Horseradish. You know very well what you did. Don't try to pretend otherwise. Nopony just stumbles upon one of our armour sets and reaches into its enchantments like a master spellcaster. Especially when the pony in question wasn't foaled with the correct attributes, I might add."
>You take a deep breath.
"You're right, Elder. That does not happen."
>He motions you to continue.
"Yet I still can't tell you how it was possible."
>"How so?"
"Because I had help from the pony who briefed me for the mission. And her way of doing things can be very elusive at times."
>The robed pony moves his head slightly closer to you.
>"Go on."
"That's all I can say. Courier oath."
>Your eager listener remains motionless for a brief moment.
>Then he smiles and laughs once.
>"Twee."
"What?"
>"Your attempt to hush."
>You tilt your head.
"I can only repeat what I said to the other knights. I'll play by the rules of the codex, but I can't allow it to overwrite my allegiance to the princesses."
>The elder waves your comment off with a hoof.
>"Yes, yes. And that resolution is noble of you."
>He pauses again, and you listen carefully.
>"But it has no bearing between the two of us, dear courier."
>What?
"And why?"
>The stallion tries to act laid-back and casual.
>Which alarms you the most.
>"You see, because I share the same oath as you, young one."
>Oh, fuck.
>Is he telling the truth, #deca?
>Her response is swift and clear.




>"That he does, indirectly. He once served as an acquaintance for the court in Canterlot."
>You feel the urge to invent a plethora of cuss words and curses to vent your immediate thoughts.
>But you manage to control yourself in the presence of the pony you wanted to talk to in the first place.
>Nevertheless, your friend waits for an answer.
>And your typical excuse does not work on him this time.
>Then again, he does not know that you know the truth.
>Hence he cannot prove that you are aware of the opposite when you doubt his words, right?
>A risky attempt, considering that you may snub the elder, but you give it a go.
"With all due respect, but I can't believe that without any proof."
>But much to your discomfort, your words barely faze him.
>The elder remains calm and at ease.
>"I'm sure you can't. Very well then."
>The stallion clears his voice.
>"If it does put your mind at ease, I happen to know that I'm not the first pony with ties to Canterlot whom you've paid a visit to in your short stay around here."
>You try not to flinch.
>For you are sure that he does not refer to the Gravel Squad.
>Regardless, you try to deflect his comment.
"You mean Aegis?"
>The Elder shakes his head slowly, telling you that he saw through this simple ruse.
>And he does not even waste one word to comment on it.
>"If my information is correct, you temporarily cooperated with the smug spelunker mare who pretends to be somepony else."
>Damn.
>"And don't think I'm not aware of her little treasure trove of bad things beneath the shack."
>So much for trying to use pretence.
"Who else knows about it?"
>"Nopony. Don't confuse my standing as the High Elder with my vows to the realm."
>Well, shit indeed.
>The Elder has driven you into a corner.
>With the same argument that you have used in abundance during the last two days.
>Because while you could omit certain details to other ponies under the guise of royal duties, it has now come around to bite you as it lead you to this situation.
>He expects some answers, and you have run out of reasons to talk around the subject.
>You sigh and take a breath.
>Maybe he will swallow a variant of the truth.
"Alright. If you wish."
>A brief pause.
"I was specifically chosen and prepared for this mission, and my... instructor gave me some tools to deliver the messages as quickly as possible."
>His eyebrow rises a tad more.
>"And one of those 'tools' can manipulate our magic, you say?"
"In a way, yes."
>"May I see it?"
>You hesitate for a second before you agree.
"Fine."
>You take off your goggles and offer the object to the Elder, hoping that this will not backfire in any way.
>But now that you know about your mutual allegiance to Canterlot, you think it is quite unlikely that he will try to play a trick on you.
"I think it doesn't violate the rule to take them off in the close security of this office. Though I need those back."
>"Naturally."




>At first it seems like the pony is surprised that you give him your goggles of all pieces.
>Yet he nevertheless takes the pair of lenses to inspect the glasses carefully.
>He turns it around several times, meticulously observing the object up close, and from all angles.
>"Interesting. I can positively feel the enchantment inside. It feels... unusual. A shame I'm not a scribe."
>You quietly disagree with him, as him not being a Unicorn is the only reason why you have handed over your gear so willingly.
>Still, it is already impressive that he can feel the enchantment this clearly in the first place.
>The Elder keeps talking to you without looking away from the goggles in his grasp.
>He even straps them to his head to look for hidden functions.
>Though he has no luck in his attempt to activate the HUD.
>"Hm. You can't lend us this thing for some inspections, now do you?"
"Nope, sorry. These are crucial for my mission."
>Plus, you do not want to leave a piece of equipment behind that #deca.mare personally made for you.
>Even though it is technically safe to do so, given that these ponies cannot detect the full picture behind the 'enchantment', you do see these goggles as a gift from #deca.mare to you.
>So it would not feel right to leave them behind.
>"Unfortunate. Our scribes would love to take a look at your magic glasses."
>Oh, you believe that without the shadow of a doubt.
>He takes the goggles off again and returns the piece to you.
>"I assume the enchantment is tied to you, correct?"
>So he found that one out too.
"It is. But that's about all I can say."
>The stallion nods.
>"Ever the complicated court business, I take it."
>You nod back.
>"Hmph. Not much has changed over there."
>You sense an opportunity to change the topic.
"Speaking of business..."
>The stallion interrupts you in the middle of the sentence.
>"Yes, of course. You're avid to do your job. So let's scratch that itch of yours."
>Judging from the lightly dismissive tone in his voice, you assume he is not overly fond to deal with couriers for some reason, though you do not want to mention that at the moment.
>After all, he has just given you the chance you have been waiting for.
>So you open your bag, get a hold of one of the precious casings, and present it to the robed pony.
"Here you go. It is a direct message, straight from Celestia herself."
>He takes the fancy vessel, nods once to show his courteous regard to you and your task, and proceeds to unseal the casing.
>The stallion works to unravel the document without much fanfare, and yet you can nevertheless see that he shows a modicum of respect to the letter as he pulls it out.
>And you wait patiently as he begins to read the parchment in motionless silence.




>About a minute of quiet study later, the Elder puts the document on his desk.
>And he looks at the signature beneath the emblem of the sun for another moment.
>Deeply in thought, as it seems.
>Eventually, he directs his gaze back to you.
>His expression is lightly quizzical.
>Though you have no idea how to interpret that.
"Well?"
>"I have got to say, this is not what I expected."
"It isn't?"
>He shakes his head.
>"No. Because the letter doesn't say anything at all."
>What?
"Uhm, pardon me, but I was told it was an invitation to something."
>"Yes, that it is. But it doesn't state for what purpose."
>The Elder examines the emblem of the sun a second time.
>"All I read is that me and my 'companions' are invited to the court for an official gathering after this cycle has been completed. I assume she means me and the whole Order."
"So where's the problem?"
>"The problem? I do wonder why Celestia wants to summon the whole Knighthood to her court. Nay, not only all of us. She wants the entire wasteland over there."
"Are you sure about that?"
>"Isn't it obvious? You have four scrolls, don't you?"
"Well, three now."
>The pony waves with a hoof.
>"Semantics. But the three are meant for the other leaders, you said. And assuming they all contain the same message..."
>You fill in that gap.
"... which they do. To my knowledge."
>"Then it stands to reason that Celestia invites virtually everypony from these parts of the world to her meeting. And yet, she makes a secret out of her intentions behind this decision. For reasons untold."
>You think about that for a moment.
"She must have her motives for that."
>"Of course she does. She always has."
"And you think her not saying anything specific is bad news?"
>Another dismissive wave.
>"Nonsense. Celestia doesn't harbour any ill intentions."
"But?"
>"But whenever she writes letters like this, you know there is something... unforeseen coming around the corner. Trust me."
"Yeah, that's true. They never were unpleasant surprises though."
>"Speaking from experience as well, hm?"
>You need a short moment to find the accurate words for your response.
"That's one way to put it."
>"Still, I'd hoped to get more information from her."
"I'm afraid I can't help you there. That's all I've been asked to deliver."
>The stallion taps his chin in thought.
>"Alright then. Tell the court we will accept her invitation. I'll personally assemble and lead a delegation to Canterlot."
>You feel the temptation to ask whether his team will march into the city in their full panoply, just for fun.
>Because you for your part would love to see the expression on the face of the Royal Guard's commander when he sees that a number of heavy walking metal ponies strut towards the capital of the realm.
>It could lead to fairly hilarious reactions.




>But despite your knack for a little possible prank, you prefer to ask something else.
"So that's your official answer?"
>"Yes. Consider this fourth of your errand to be completed."
>The Elder gets up from his cushion and trots towards the door.
>Then he opens it and addresses one of the knights in the hallway.
>"Send a call for an Order-wide conference in six hours. Every knight and scribe who is available shall come."
>And a voice you do not recognise responds accordingly.
>"Yes, High Elder."
>You hear a heavy pony frame trudging on the concrete floor, apparently moving away from the office if the sound does not deceive you.
>The Elder closes the door again and returns to his cushion.
>"Let's see what all this is about."
>You think he is genuinely curious about the offer.
>Albeit also a bit miffed about the vagueness of the letter at the same time.
>Considering his apparent urge to gather intel, like he did in your case, you are sure it bothers him to be left in the dark about this issue.
>Especially since he is essentially the leader of a well organised group of ponies.
>Which surely requires a potent talent for organisation and precision.
>As such, the Elder does not strike you as someone who likes it when things are kept vague and unclear.
>Quite the opposite, in fact.
>And you notice another strange thing.
>Now that you have technically no obligations any more, at least concerning the Elder and everyone else in this bunker, you feel that your tensions and apprehensions towards the knights are declining quickly.
>You actually get a bit curious about him and the whole ordeal.
>So you attempt to do something you did not think possible only a short while ago.
>You want to engage in a casual conversation.
"Elder? May I ask a personal question?"
>Much to your surprise, he nods and agrees relatively cordially.
>"You may."
"I hope this doesn't sound rude, but how does a pony like you get to a place like this?"
>He tilts his head.
>"What? You think I'm too old to lead a band of merry ponies in the desert?"
>You recoil lightly and shake your head.
"No, not at all. That's not it."
>You take a breath.
"I mean, what is the appeal for someone like you who travelled the land from end to end?"
>You point at the gallery of medals and pictures on the wall.
"I assume you've seen a few things during your adventures. So how did you come to this remote place? To play a glorified game?"
>Your conversation partner remains silent for a while, mulling over something.
>And while you wait for him to do anything, you ask yourself whether your question might have insulted him.
>But even if it did, you have no means to take it back anyway.
>The Elder contemplates for maybe ten seconds in total before he decides to reply.
>"Say, have you ever played a game called 'chess'?"
>Alright, you did not see that one coming.




>Though that question is fairly safe to answer truthfully, you reckon.
"Learned it a while back from my wife. Can't say I'm a master of it though. She is... almost infinitely better at it than me."
>"That will do."
>The Elder gets off from his seat to reach for something underneath his desk.
>He reveals a moderately sized wooden box and puts it on his own cushion.
>Then he points at the documents that are littered everywhere on his work desk.
>"Help me with that."
>You think you understand what he is doing.
>He wants to make room for a game board.
>Which you assume is stored inside the recently dug up box.
"Aren't you afraid I could read something on these?"
>"Courier, I somehow doubt you're interested in the logistics of running a small underground network."
>Well, this is true.
>Organising the project to tunnel a whole planet was more than enough for you.
>"Besides, I somehow think you wouldn't have to smooth talk your way into this facility to find out what is written on there."
>A light shudder runs through your spine, almost as if you had been caught by something.
>Even though you are sure that he refers to the exchange of intelligence in Canterlot, your subconsciousness suggests that he might be on to something regarding #deca.mare.
>After all, the stallion has an unusually sharp perception.
>Regardless of that little nagging thought in your mind, however, you do as he asks and help him out.
>The two of you carefully put the scrolls and ledgers aside.
>Once done with this, the Elder fumbles with the box until he has unlocked it.
>And lo and behold, you stare at a classical chessboard plus a set of finely crafted figurines.
>You quickly realise that this is no beginner equipment though.
>No, the Elder possesses a tournament edition board.
>Oh brother.
>If it means what you think it means, this will be a slaughter.
>"Which side do you prefer? Day? Or night?"
>You shake your head.
"Uhm, I let you decide."
>The Elder shrugs and prepares the game, incidentally giving you the light figurines.
>Huh, looks like he wants you to make the first move.
>So as you sit down after everything has been prepared, you look at the board, considering what to do.
>And it does not take long for you to consult your friendly helper in your ear.
>#deca, can you give me a few hints for a strategy?
>Her voice rings through the comm in an instant.
>"Sure. Just play the game."
>Huh?
>Is that all?
>"It is. He tries to tell you something, Anon."
>I do not understand.
>"You will. Just play the match and you will see."
>Well then, it looks like you are on your own.
>You think back to the time when you played a few matches against #deca.mare.




>It was a practically hopeless cause to even consider that you could stand the shred of a chance against her when she played with all of her abilities.
>But she nevertheless taught you a few basic strategies and new tricks every time she steamrolled you.
>And you try to make the most of this knowledge right now.
>Even though you are aware of the fact that your opponent is very likely to have far greater skills than you.
>So you move your first horseshoe pawn and see how the game evolves.
>But about a quarter of an hour into the game, the Elder manages to conclude the match with a checkmate move.
>"That's it. Match over."
>Once more, you study the positions of the figurines on the board, and come to the same assessment.
"Hm. It is. Well played."
>"Hardly. It wasn't a very challenging match."
>You blink.
"And that wasn't very sportsponylike of you."
>The Elder clears his throat.
>"Pardon me. I didn't mean to insult you. It was just a statement of a fact."
"You could make it more tactful though."
>He sighs loudly.
>"One can only do that so many times before it gets irritating."
>Hold on, is this what #deca.mare meant?
"What are you talking about?"
>The stallion does not answer your question though.
>"You said your wife taught you the game."
"Yes. And?"
>"And you played for a while, I presume."
"So we did."
>"But not anymore?"
"Not much in the recent..."
>What was it, centuries?
"... years."
>"Why did you stop?"
"Because the games were always lopsided when she played seriously. And if she doesn't give it all, well, it just feels like she is letting me win. It's still fun to have casual games once in a while, but not all too often."
>A pause.
"And there was no point in playing any actual competitive matches because there was no excite..."
>You stop in the middle of the sentence and look back at the medals.
>And you spot a few details you did not consider before.
>The first medal you see shows some semblance to an ancient Unicorn castle tower.
>Another few remind you of a figure of a Pegasus, heavily clad in traditional metal plate armour.
>A third set of medals appears to be designed with a stylised version of Chancellor Puddinghead's hat in mind.
>Others bear certain crown iconographies related to the princesses.
>And one even includes a chequered pattern in the middle, surrounded by three golden horseshoes, and the Equestrian banner placed on top.
>On their own, all these symbols are not overly unusual to find, as they are used all over Equestria in one form or another.
>But now that you know a little bit more of the pony at the other side of the desk, you see them in a whole new pattern.
>Because every single medal is aureate.
>You do not spot even a single piece of silver in there, much less bronze.
"Oh."
>"I think you understand now."
"These were all chess tournaments?"
>"All over Equestria. And this one..."
>The stallion points at the award with the banner at the top.
>"... is the signet of the Equestrian supreme championship."
>Of course.
>No wonder he stomped you like it was nothing.




>And as you listen to him talking about his prizes, you initially think he tries to brag about his accomplishments in the field of chess.
>But that is not quite correct.
>The Elder does show some pride in it, sure, but he also sounds a little distanced.
>Your mind slowly begins to connect the dots.
"So you stopped because you've done all there was to do and had to look for something else?"
>The stallion looks you in the eyes, smiling lightly amused.
>"You make it sound like a sob story. Forget that whiny subtext."
"Okay. What was the reason then?"
>"Can't you imagine? It is... repetitive to play further after you've beaten every other master over and over again. Like you said, it gets pointless one day. For me, and for my opponents. So I did all of us a favour and left the tournaments with a stellar record in my pocket."
>He takes a breath.
>"Maybe one day I'll meet another worthy contender. But until that day, there's other challenges to be had."
>Looks like he found something else, you figure.
>"It was a good decision in retrospect. Because it broadened my horizon."
>That is all well and good, albeit not the answer to your opening question.
"I don't see the connection between a board game and the wasteland though."
>"Oh really? I guess you aren't looking hard enough."
>You process this remark for a short moment before something dawns on you.
"Because they're both games?"
>His smile widens.
>"Not just games, they're both board games! The wasteland is a board, don't you see? It's only larger in scale!"
"But no one takes turns and the figurines are real ponies."
>The Elder laughs once.
>"Right, and that only increases the challenge!"
>It seems like he is firing himself up with his own speech.
>"In a chess game it's only you, your figurines, and the opponent. That's all. But here, here you have more than one opponent to spar with in every single moment. More tactics, more options. Supply lines to keep an eye on. And your team is not only a group of wooden figurines you just shove around. They have their own traits and personalities you always have to consider when giving an order."
>He takes another breath.
>"They are not always going to do exactly what you tell them to do either. And this is fine. You only need to keep that in mind as well."
>You blink.
"I don't want to be disrespectful, but do you only see them as your figurines?"
>The robed stallion snorts.
>"Of course not. They're pleasant company to cherish our successes with as a group. A feeling of camaraderie that carved wood also can't provide."
"Hm, to me it seems like the game comes above the ponies for you though."
>This gets a shrug out of him.




>"They don't exclude each other. But you're right, in a way. When it comes to orders, the game comes before personal interest. A player sometimes has to risk a figurine or two to win a match. That's just how it is."
>He blinks.
>"But at the end of the match, you still get them all back into your trunk, regardless of the result. That's what the wasteland and chess have in common."
>The more you listen to him, the more he begins to remind you of some of your commanding officers from the time before you met #deca.mare.
>They had a similar relationship to their subordinates.
>Somewhat personal in nature, partially also even outright cordial in some rarer cases.
>But at the end of the day, you and your peers were merely seen as assets when things got serious during missions.
>Cold stance?
>Maybe.
>They had to treat you as such though.
>Simply because there never was a guarantee that all of you made it back in one piece.
>This is simply the reality of military operations.
>After all, you have experienced that exact scenario first hand, a long time ago.
>Happening to yourself, no less.
>When you were the one who did not make it back.
>And yet, you are the only one of your former squad who is still around.
>"Something wrong?"
>The voice of the Elder.
"Huh?
>"You drifted off a moment ago."
"Never mind. Just had to think about a past life."
>"Pheh. You're too young for that sort of thing, Anon."
"If you say so."
>You pause.
"I didn't tell you my name, by the way."
>"And? Are you surprised?"
"Not really."
>You look back a the medals.
"What do your knights think of your attitude towards them during the game? Or haven't you told anyone?"
>Now the Elder laughs loudly.
>"Friend, they don't only know it, they willingly embrace it!"
"Really? They like being treated like chess pieces most of the time?"
>"Sure. Why shouldn't they? Things work just fine for us. And besides, it's not like I'd manipulate them or anything. I'm merely applying their unique talents in the best way possible, and they know it. We grow strong as a force, everypony wins. Where's the harm in that?"
"There isn't, I suppose."
>Your response sounds less convinced than you wanted it to.
>And the Elder picks up on that.
>"You have doubts? Hah! You should be here when we are having a victory celebration. You'd believe me then."
"What? Are you telling me stiff knights can throw a party?"
>"Of course we do. With everything you can imagine. Good music, barrels of ale and cider, skill games and contests in good company, you name it. Always burns one half of our supply reserves, but it's worth it every single time."
>Hm, does that mean they have their own little version of a medieval fair?
>Except in a bunker instead of an open field, and with servo-supported knights' armour instead of traditional variants.
>Not to mention that the horses are the ones who are holding the festival to begin with.




>And you bet there will be also some pieces of metal banging loudly against each other in a few instances of cordial roughhousing here and there.
>You say nothing while you imagine this scene.
>Though the Elder seems to understand what is going on in your mind.
>"Heh, outsiders. Always having such a skewed view on the Knighthood."
"You know, the more I hear, the harder it is to imagine a bunch of headstrong ponies following the orders of a leader who always stays behind his desk though."
>The Elder frowns at that remark.
>"Who says I don't wander out there myself?"
>Oh, that was a faux pas.
"Uhm, I assumed you stay here to coordinate everything from your central base all the time. Like a master mind or something."
>He shakes his head.
>"Do I look like I'm fused to my seat?"
"No, but I made the observation that the most scheming leaders rarely stand at the front lines."
>"Not necessarily. You can find me here most of the time, that's true. But sometimes, when the stakes are exceptionally high, a more 'hooves on' approach is needed. You have to stay close to be board to effectively move your figurines in a tight situation, don't you?"
>You shrug.
"I suppose. Though I wager everyone else wants to have a shot at you when you're giving your orders on site."
>You get him to grin smugly.
>"And I always love to see them try."
>The Elder reaches for something underneath the desk with a hoof.
>A moment later, you hear a clicking noise coming from what sounds like a switch somewhere down there.
>Then, a second unlocking click emanates from the wall to your right.
>As it turns out, a portion of it is in reality a hidden door that now slowly swings open.
>The passage reveals a small secret chamber, not much bigger than a tiny store room.
>It has just about enough space for a pony to comfortably stand inside.
>And indeed, there is a pony like figure idling there, made almost entirely out of metal.
>It is one of the knight's heavy armour sets.
>Yet a variant unlike all the others you have seen so far.
>The first thing you notice is its highly striking paintjob.
>Similar to most of the other pieces of armour, it is unique in its artistic nature.
>But at the same time, you can tell immediately that this one is special even beyond that.
>Vast portions of the helmet, the sides, and the legs, are all covered in a perfectly symmetrical chequerboard pattern, which was clearly inspired by the design of the supreme championship prize in the gallery.
>However, that is not all.
>For you can find all the Equestrian equivalents of the characteristic chess figurines on it as well.




>The joints that cover the shoulder area have been decorated with the image of the clad Pegasus.
>The plates on the flanks bear the symbol of the pudding hats, and one simple horseshoe has been painted on each of the four knee guards.
>A large adapted version of the Equestrian banner was added to the centre of the chest plate, changed in such a way that the depictions of Celestia and Luna resemble the colours of the two figurine sets.
>But the crowning part of the whole collection is the attachment on the back of the armour.
>Where the other knights carry some form of armament, this setup is equipped with a full-fledged communication array, paired with actual sensor components.
>Everything you need to precisely monitor the situation of an area in real time and quickly change between comm channels to coordinate dozens of different groups at once.
>And with a little bit of imagination, the arrangement of the antennae loosely emulate the outlines of an ancient Unicorn tower.
>If you had not spoken with the Elder previously, you would have thought this garish thing would be worn by someone who likes to play the act of an eccentric fool.
>But that is not what this is about.
>Oh no, this is supposed to make a statement.
>Everyone shall see at first glance who is stepping on the field when this suit shows up.
>Plus, you are sure that there is another similar device somewhere in the bunker.
>A gadget with a sufficient size and range to "listen to the wind", as the Elder puts it.
>You turn your gaze away from the armour and face the Elder again.
>"Well?"
"That's making an impression, alright. But no offensive modules?"
>"Only what you see."
"Bold. You're a sitting duck without personal defence on the field then."
>He simply shrugs.
>"I've yet to meet the pony who manages to break through the lines and take a shot at me. The first time would be well earned."
>Something tells you that he is not speaking in hyperboles.
>But this actually gives you an idea.
"Maybe you should consider playing a match against my wife one day. If you really want a challenge."
>"Oh? In chess? Or do you refer to a personal duel on the surface?"
"Your choice. I'm confident she can beat you in both."
>The stallion snickers and pats you on the back.
>"A true contender would be a welcome change, but I only believe it when I see it. Bring her with you the next time if you so wish. Don't put the blame on me when she is angry with you for setting her up to fail though."
>You are the one who smiles this time.
"Don't worry. I'm not afraid of that."
>The Elder does not seem overly impressed by your words, but you did not think they would faze him either.
>A brief moment of silence.
"Anyway, I think I got to go. The three scrolls won't deliver themselves."
>"No, you don't leave yet."




>Ah shit, what is coming now?
>This must be the catch you have been dreading all along.
"Why?"
>"I can't let you go without offering you a cup of tea first."
"Come again?"
>"Point of honour. The winner of a match traditionally offers the loser a treat as a sign of courtesy."
"Oh. Well, in this case, I'll stay."
>"Splendid. Just a moment."
>The Elder trots to the door a second time.
>"Junior, two cups of tea, please."
>You raise an eyebrow.
"Junior? As in junior member?"
>"No. My son."
"You brought your son with you?"
>"My wife joined too. It's not unusual to come with a few relatives, as you probably already know."
>You nod.
"The Gravel Squad. Yes."
>Someone rings the doorbell a moment later.
>"Come in."
>A relatively young adult Unicorn stallion, probably in his mid-thirties, enters the scene.
>He too wears a robe, albeit much more loosely than the Elder or Aegis, and balances a silver tray with two ceramic mugs on his back.
>The Elder's son wordlessly puts the tray on the desk.
>He then nods once to his father and to you.
>"Thank you, junior."
>"Junior" smiles briefly before he leaves the office again.
"So your son is your personal aide."
>"Not really. But he prefers to remain inside the base to deal with everyday maintenance and scribe operations. Some joked he does so because he's closer to me that way, hence the moniker."
"That's not the real reason though."
>"Right. The truth is, he's a good artisan. He can better sharpen his talents in a workshop down here than out there. If you ever need some help to get something fixed, he's your pony."
>Under the unspoken condition that you become a full member of the Knighthood, that is.
>The Elder shoves one mug your way and takes the other for himself.
>They are filled with still lightly fuming red tea of some sort.
>"But enough of that. Drink your tea before it gets cold. The flavour is better when the mug is still warm."
>And so you do.
>You lower your head towards the mug and carefully test the temperature before you take a sip.
>It is a moderately sweet mixture of different types of fruit, and you are able to recognise most of them.
>"Do you like it? Tea is a real rarity here in the wastes."
"Yeah, I can imagine. Hope the others won't mind that you drink some with an outsider."
>"It's fine. This one is from my personal stock."
>He grins as he looks into his mug.
>"Kept it for favours like this."
>The Elder almost sounds like he is happy that you have given him a justification to drink a cup with someone.
>And his wording gives you an idea.
"Speaking of favours, could you grant me one?"
>"Depends. What do you need?"
"Can I use one of your shower rooms to get rid off the mud? As you can see, the tussle out there left some marks on me."
>The Elder thinks for a moment.
>"I can grant you that wish."
>Finally some good news.
>"But only under one condition."
>Damn it.




>"You see, our water supplies are fairly limited, so we are forced to manage what we have very carefully. Utility and drinking water alike."
"Alright. And?"
>"And I can't just let you drain some of it for your personal use from our sole shower room."
>The Elder deliberately stresses the singular.
"You have one shower room for the whole bunker?"
>"Yes. Fifteen water taps are just about enough for a group of our size."
>Seems like privacy really is sparse in every aspect of life down here, as this room must be in use virtually constantly.
>In fact, you are sure this place is crowded regularly.
>After all, you assume that wearing an armour of this weight must be taxing on the body, servo-support or not.
>Probably every group that returns will most likely head there first after getting out of that metal can.
"That's all well and good, but what should I do now?"
>"Well, you can ask one of the knights who brought you here to share. I'll vouch for you."
"Share? You mean share the water."
>"And the tap."
>You stare at the Elder in disbelief.
"At the same time."
>"Naturally."
>Come again?
>He did not say this, right?
"You can't be serious."
>Yet the Elder merely shrugs.
>"Why not? Somepony has to keep track of the used water."
>And keep an eye on you, as you think to yourself.
>"That's the best I can arrange."
>Your head almost begins to spin as you think about this.
>Because you are not exactly keen on doing that with any of the four.
>You would certainly not ask the two mares, for obvious reasons of marital propriety.
>Spear is not a much better option either, as he is technically still under the aegis of, well, Aegis.
>And whilst the older Unicorn would probably be the least offensive candidate of the four, you are not looking forward to that possibility either.
>On top of that, the Elder is simply not able to perceive your reservations, given that he has never lived with human standards.
>For him, it is merely a decision to make sure that you do not somehow interfere with the operation of the bunker, and may it only happen accidentally.
>And while you for your part have learned to adapt your standards in most aspects, there still are a few exceptions to that change.
>Unfortunately, his offer poses some lines you are not going to cross.
>You sigh.
"I think I've got to pass in that case."
>He tilts his head in slight surprise.
>"Aversion to close contact?"
"Uhm, remotely."
>That does seem to surprise him though.
>"Hm. This doesn't match with the information I've got about your confrontation with that pesky teal hothead. I heard you mounted her with no problems."
>Of course he knows that too.
>What else did you expect?
"Because it doesn't match. It's... complicated."




>"Well, I'm afraid this request is off the table then."
"Never mind. It isn't that urgent."
>"As you wish."
>The Elder begins to sort his documents anew.
>"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"I don't think so, no."
>"In that case, I must politely ask you to leave soon. There's an unscheduled gathering in need of some organisation."
"Alright."
>You rise from the cushion.
"Thank you for taking the time, esteemed Elder."
>He nods your way.
>"And I thank you for delivering the message. I'm sure we'll meet in Canterlot."
>You smile cordially.
"Possible. Unless some other mission sends me who knows where after this errand is over. Have a good day."
>"You too, Anon."
>You turn around and head for the door.
>But once you are about to leave the room, the Elder utters another remark.
>"One more thing. As you surely know, your honorary title expires after you have left the base. Once you are out, there is no turning back."
"I know. Does that mean the guards will shoot me down once I passed the gate?"
>"This will not happen. You are back on the list of potential opponents though, and our knights will treat you as such, should you encounter some of us on your travels again."
>In other words, you are now a known rival unless proven otherwise.
>Like any other potential candidate.
>Faction number three who is marking you.
>Nice.
>And right now, you ask yourself whether you should have made some secondary proxies with a different phenotype in advance.
>It could have helped a lot to avoid this situation.
>Although it would probably cause some serious confusion too.
>Either way, you take a deep breath before you reply.
"Thank you for the warning."
>"Eh, it's the least I can do to ensure a fair match."
>After the Elder has gone quiet again, you take your first step into the hallway.
>You pass the still empty conference room, and follow the path back to the elevator.
>A short moment later, a Unicorn scribe intercepts you on your way.
>Junior.
"Yes?"
>"The Elder has ordered me to make sure you do not get lost on the way to the main shaft."
>Surprise, surprise.
>But you accept your escort and go further.
>The two of you arrive at the elevator in a matter of minutes.
>The platform is already waiting for you.




>So you walk up to the centre of the thing and wait for Junior to do the rest.
>And you feel a light rumble as your ascent to the surface begins.
>You will be back in the desert soon.
>Where at least four ponies are eagerly waiting to get you.
>For if you assess Mender's modus operandi accurately, he will still loom out there, somewhere near the base.
>Waiting for you to return and deliver the next scroll.
>They know you have to leave the base at some point again.
>You are certain that they are also aware of the fact that the knights will not harbour you for very long.
>So they can only win by staying patient.
>And as much as you hate to admit it, you see no way to get out of this conundrum without fighting the four at least one more time.
>Alone, out in the open, and with no ace up your sleeve.
>Whereas your opponents had all the time in the world to prepare themselves nearby.
>You cannot think of a worse tactical position.
>And even if you would escape the situation by flying away, these scavengers will hunt you nevertheless.
>Across the entire game field if they have to.
>Plus, you cannot escape to the clouds either, thanks to your stunt earlier today.
>This place simply does not allow you to catch a decent break.
>But at the very least, you have already endured twenty-five percent of your wild trip.
>Provided you can maintain this pace, you will be out of here in four and a half days.
>And if you put it like this, the whole thing does not appear to be so bad any more.
>At least that is what you tell yourself.

Footnote: Phase one completed. Congratulations!

Footnote: You have lost recognition - Your Initiate title was revoked by the Knightly Order. Better luck next time!




2077.6

"Confusius once said: 'What?'" - From the writings of a wise man. Or not.

>The pair at the entrance lets you go without any further comment or gesture.
>You leave the bunker and the two guards behind while you consider the next steps on your journey.
>The first thing you do is to walk in a straight line.
>Mainly to get some distance to the knighthood, but also to talk to #deca.mare in the relative privacy of the dusty plains.
>And you regularly use your sensors to sweep the area and track the actions of the scavengers.
>The four signatures are still around, albeit relatively far away from your current position.
>They are no longer close to each other either.
>The squad has split up into three different little units, scattered around the perimeter.
>One pony is hidden somewhere to the north-west, another is at some southern location, and a pair of ponies is observing you from the east.
>You assume the latter are Mender and his sister.
>Because if #deca.mare's report about her current condition is true, he would never let her go with someone else, and especially not when they are hunting you.
>Pin Point would be far too much of a liability to any of his plans if he did not have her under control and therefore physically close to him.
>Though you are surprised that he let her come with him in the first place.
>Would she not be better off if he had kept her back at their base?
>Then again, perhaps his brotherly instinct to look after his younger sister insisted on having her close to him.
>But these questions do not help your cause, as you still have to face four opponents yet again.
>You need to come up with a strategy.
>Plus, you quickly notice that the distance between you and the four barely ever changes in one way or the other.
>No matter how far you go, they always manage to keep up.
>Yet every time you look around, you see nothing out of the ordinary.
>Only rocks, desolate bushes, and so on.
>The four really have learned to blend in with their environment.
>Without your sensors and HUD, you would not even suspect them to be out there at all.
>You wonder how they communicate silently though.
>Perhaps the scavengers use some method which is akin to reflecting signals with mirrors, yet bases on an alternate light source.
>After all, the sun is mostly blocked by the thick cloud layer above the field, so this option is not feasible.
>A friendly informative voice interrupts your thoughts.
>"They use Pin Point and her magic aura instead, Anon."
>Well, one more mystery solved then.
>And an understandable reason for Mender to take her with him despite her inconvenient handicap.
>You take a breath.
"Alright, that's good to know. But what's our next move?"
>"You want to follow my plan further, I presume?"
"Yeah. It worked so far, so why not?"
>"Just wanted to make sure. Because the next phase will be an unorthodox one."
>Not foreboding at all.
"Okay. What's our next stop?"
>#deca.mare pauses for a second before she responds.




>"The scavenger base."
>You almost pull the same stumbling stunt that Spear and his friends have performed earlier.
>But unlike them, you keep walking.
>More or less fluently, at least.
>You process this proposal for another moment and try to analyse her idea rationally.
"The scavenger base? Did I get this right?"
>"Yes, Anon."
"After snubbing them twice."
>"Correct."
"And with four grumpy ponies hunting me."
>"Indeed."
"And you know that we are relatively close to the core area, right? The other bases are not that far away."
>"I know."
"To clarify, you do have a viable strategy from start to end, yes?"
>"Hmhm."
>You sigh.
"Okay. Then let's hear it. How do I get rid of the four and gain entry to their main base?"
>"Simple. You do not."
>The rational part of your brain clogs up at this point.
"Uhm."
>"Wait and listen first. I suggest you face the four now."
>She pauses.
>"And lose."
>Brain tilted, please restart.
"You're joking."
>"Not at all."
"So you want me to get shot and lay down?"
>"Essentially, yes."
"You know they'll take everything from me. And not just one scroll, yes?"
>"That much is certain."
"And that's the best idea you can come up with?"
>"It is the most effective, at least."
>Are you still talking to #deca.mare?
>Or has somepony hacked your channel?
>"No Anon, this is still me. And yes, I understand what I ask of you."
>You groan.
"I don't mind getting beaten, but of all ponies, why Mender and his ilk? Couldn't it be literally anyone else?"
>"Not for my plan to work, unfortunately. I know you do not like to give him the satisfaction. But he and his group are the key to a quick passage."
"Oh great. May I ask how it goes on afterwards?"
>"You could. But do you want me to ruin the surprise?"
>You shake your head.
"You know, you're not making your idea more enticing to me."
>"Remember, Anon, none of my proposals are binding. You can choose to do whatever you want."
"But whatever I do, it's not as good as your strategy."
>If you want to get this mission done quickly, you silently add in your mind.
>So even though you are not very keen on this, #deca.mare's plan is probably the best option to rely on.
>You sigh loudly.
"Okay. Let's do it."
>A pause.
"I'll just wander up to the guy and get myself 'killed'. Shouldn't be too hard, I guess."
>This, however, does not seem to align with the strategy that she has in mind.
>"Not quite."
"What do you mean?"
>"The defeat must be plausible. Mender must believe that he has beaten you legitimately."
"That's even worse."
>"It is not as bad as you think, believe me. And the benefit will be worth it."
"I'm not sure on this one, but okay."
>You let your gaze wander around as you look at the vast open field everywhere around you.
>Then you take heart and decide to bear whatever may come with a grin.
"Tell me what I need to do."
>"The best approach is to let them come to you."
"Meaning?"
>"Pick a suitable place for a rest, and stay there until they decide to attack. This is the easiest method."




>Sounds reasonable enough.
>In the following minutes of your stroll through the dust, you look for a spot that might work for an impromptu picnic.
>At least something that is a little bit better than plain mud.
>And you find it in the form of a lonely tree log, simply lying around near a few bushes.
>Good enough for you.
>So you follow #deca.mare's suggestion and take a break right here.
>You step onto the log, sit down, and check the movements of the hostile signatures.
>The four move slowly, only advancing in your direction at a snail's pace.
>You are not surprised that they remain on guard and approach carefully.
>After all, they have learned not to underestimate you.
>But right now, in the very moment you want them to come to you and play this thing out, that approach is actually to your disadvantage.
>Because it forces you to wait.
>And it looks like the scavengers take their sweet time to get to you.
>Oh well.
>You better use the forced pause to do something else then.
>You reach into one of your bags and take the already opened box of foodstuffs.
>Since you are almost assuredly going to lose that box, amongst pretty much everything else too, you might just as well consume some of it before the four have a chance to get it in turn.
>They cannot take from you what your proxy already has in his stomach, obviously.
>So as you chew on your humble treat, you notice that the speed of your opponents has increased lightly.
>Looks like they feel a little bit more comfortable, now that you seem to be busy with something else.
>Nevertheless, they are not rushing anything.
>Fine then.
>You simply enjoy your meal for as long as possible.
>Similar to the apple on the first day, you do not rush things this time around either, and savour every single bite.
>And simultaneously, you try to eye what is happening in the periphery of your vision.
>As you have expected, you can see some hints of movement in the distance.
>Ever so slightly, one tiny step at a time.
>So you pretend to fully focus on your meal.
>Whilst you always keep the source of the signature just barely within your field of vision.
>True enough, you soon spot what you are looking for.
>A heavily camouflaged body, with pieces of bushes and even some rocks strapped to it, is crawling towards you in a very slow and fluent motion.
>Judging from the body type, and your previous experience with them bursting out of the ground once before, you figure that you have spotted either Nail or Measure.
>But it matters very little.
>Because the other three signatures are closing in on you as well.
>They are coming from all directions.
>Still, you feign to be unaware of the approaching danger and reach out to #deca.mare in your mind.
>When are they going to engage openly?
>"In about five minutes from now on."
>Alright, give me a warning in three.
>"Yes, Anon."
>So you wait and eat as #deca.mare counts the seconds.




>You need to muster all your patience as to not react to the scavengers who are slowly crawling ever closer.
>But you divert your attention by studying their movements.
>It looks like they want to overwhelm you with an ambush from three sides.
>At least this is how you interpret their approach from three different directions.
>Interestingly though, you notice that one signature of the paired team stops moving at one point.
>The pony in question holds the position whilst the other keeps approaching as if nothing happened.
>Without anyone saying a single word, or even making a gesture.
>They have absolutely planned this attack thoroughly.
>And you in turn feel sorely tempted to dash it once more.
>But unfortunately, you cannot do that without throwing #deca.mare's plan off the rails.
>Oh well, if you already have to lose, you will at least make them sweat for it as much as possible.
>A beeping sound rings in your ear.
>The three minute warning.
>Which means your friends will attack within the the next two minutes.
>But this is not going to happen.
>For you will not let them dictate all terms in this engagement.
>So you take one deep breath, collect your focus, and begin to play your part.
>You let the ears of your proxy perk up.
"What the?"
>You raise your head to look up from your meal and pretend to check the area around you.
>Only a second later, you deliberately focus on the crawling pony that you have been tracking all along.
>And he looks you directly in the eyes in turn.
>It is the hammer pony.
>You also quickly notice that Nail holds something with his teeth.
>He is armed with a small ranged weapon this time.
>And you bet the other three are too.
>Without saying another word, you hastily spread your wings and hoist yourself into the air.
>The remaining still packed rations of boxed food are flung aside as you quickly gain height and create a cloud of dust around the log.
>But as fast as your reaction is, the scavengers are quick to react as well.
>Now dropping any pretence of stealth whatsoever, they hastily get up, trying to get a better aim at you as they stand.
>And you, fully knowing that you have to expect shots from all four opponents at once, dodge accordingly.
>Only brief moments later, rubber projectiles zip through the air near you.
>They all cross the exact spot where you have been less than a second ago.
>But even though you have escaped the first barrage, this engagement is far from over.
>You use the momentum of your dodging manoeuvre to get yourself moving.
>You do not even have to see the scavengers to know that they are already in the process of adjusting their aim.
>The four will surely try to predict your movements to fell you quickly.




>So the trick to stay in the game now is to foretell when they fire, and to evade a second in advance.
>You basically have to sense the decisions of your opponents shortly before they have made them in the first place.
>Piece of cake, right?
>Fortunately though, you can rely on more experience than any of the four ponies combined, so you are not hopelessly lost.
>You simply have to rely on your own skills to keep you "alive" for a while longer.
>Winning may not be your objective this time around, but you will still deliver a convincing performance.
>So you channel your entire focus on your senses and the HUD.
>You observe the outlines of your opponents, keep in touch with the air currents, and listen to your environment to make out any potential signals.
>And indeed, you think you can sense exactly when the next pony takes a shot at you.
>You fly a swift turn.
>Three small rubber balls pass you without contact.
>No hit.
>Good.
>Next.
>Another concentrated attack.
>You also dodge the second trio of projectiles.
>Interesting.
>Only three ponies fire at you.
>The more remote scavenger does not participate in the barrages.
>And they only fire in simultaneous, concentrated surges.
>But never in succession.
>As you evade the third attempt of taking you down, you get a chance to see why.
>The spot where the fourth assailant is supposed to be is seemingly empty.
>You think back to Pin Point's opening trick during your confrontation yesterday.
>She can turn herself invisible, for as long as she is standing still.
>So Mender, Measure, and Nail try to snipe you, whilst she remains in cover.
>You think you understand their reasoning behind this decision.
>And find yourself quickly reassured in this assumption, as the next strike is about to get sent your way.
>Evading this one with relative ease as well, you realise that you have steered yourself a tad closer towards the fourth signature.
>This is it then.
>If the three of them do not have the necessary marksman skills to shoot you down, they count on Pin Point to go in for the kill with a surprise attack.
>After all, her invisibility spell was one of the few tools in their repertoire that has worked on you so far.
>It is therefore only reasonable for them to utilise this advantage a second time.
>This also means they only have to heed two steps.
>First, to keep applying enough pressure on you so that you do not find the time to turn for a retaliation strike.
>And second, to coax you to dodge in the correct direction, namely right into Pin Point's crosshairs.
>Well, as far as graceful exits are concerned, this is probably the best chance you can get to make your defeat appear plausible without any additional effort.
>Plus, you think it is better for Pin Point to bring you down.
>It seems at least more preferable than getting beaten by Mender himself.
>Maybe that sense of achievement will also somewhat make up for your unintentional messing with her senses when you struck her horn.




>You just hope that you do no regret this decision.
>So you go on like before and play along with their strategy.
>Every time you predict an attack, you change your course.
>Always getting closer to Pin Point's concealed position.
>The scavengers do not do things half-hearted either.
>They steer you until you are on a course that causes you to pass right above her head.
>Since you are flying at a fairly high combat speed, you will arrive at her spot within seconds.
>Unsurprisingly, the barrages from the trio ceases.
>And if you were not aware of their plan, you might have just enough time to wonder why they no longer fire at you before you are directly above Pin Point.
>But you do not even bother to look and knowingly fall for their trap instead.
>A short moment later, you register a visual distortion on the ground just ahead of you.
>The mare appears on the regular visible spectrum, already taking aim at you with a dud weapon which floats in her magic aura.
>Too late to get out of the way.
>Pin Point grins as she fires three foam projectiles at you in quick succession.
>As it turns out, her parents have chosen an apt name for their daughter.
>All three shots hit their mark, and not in random spots either.
>One projectile taps the sheath of your proxy Pegasus.
>Whilst the other two squarely bump into the pair beyond it, one projectile for each.
>Ow.
>So much for a graceful exit.
>This was not a coincidence.
>Not in a hundred years.
>Pin Point made a deliberate statement, loud and clear.
>She is still completely thinking with her horn.
>So her clouded mind could only think of one thing.
>Combine this with the possession of something that can shoot, and you have an unfortunate set of circumstances at hand.
>As clearly demonstrated right here.
>And while the little foam toys bounce off without dealing any notable damage, you are glad that you have disabled the sensory input of the proxy.
>Because even when one could debate whether such a strike counts as technically lethal or not if this were a real battle, it sure as hell would have been an incapacitating strike.
>Good thing that the "weapons" on this field only fire soft projectiles at a fairly low velocity.
>The risk of injuries due to mere hits is nigh zero, even in cases like this.
>Still, knowing ponies for more than a millennium at this point, you very much so doubt that intentionally delivering shots of this kind is practiced very often in the game under normal circumstances.
>Nevertheless, it happened.
>So you have to act accordingly now.
>You jerk and flinch once, and then land without a comment.
>You hear some cheering while you descend, followed by hoofsteps.
>Of course.
>The sharks are coming to dismantle the prey.
>You lay down, close your eyes, and let it happen.
>I really hope you know what you are doing, #deca.
>"No worries, Anon. I do. Just lean back and observe."




>Well, it is not like you have any other choice at this point.
>At least without breaking the game rules, that is.
>Though you wonder what the organisers would do if you did.
>They can take your game gear for all you care, but what about the scrolls?
>Would they ask of you to hand over an official document?
>You have no idea in the slightest.
>Regardless of that, you have accepted to participate in the thing and to adhere to the rules.
>So you are, for all intents and purposes, "dead".
>But at least there is no shame in this.
>After all, when Mender allowed you to tie him to his accidentally aroused sister, then you can bear this situation as well.
>The first one to arrive is Pin Point, given her already close proximity to your landing site.
>And it is almost as if you can taste her excitement to see you once she draws closer.
>Oh yes, the effect is still strong.
>The Unicorn mare stops directly in front of you and giggles.
>"Hm, would you look at that. I shot myself a rooster!"
>Pin Point lowers her head to get closer to yours.
>Then she whispers into your ear.
>"And he brought a bag of goodies along too. It would be a shame not to fleece it, don't you think?"
>Oh boy.
>How very subtle.
>You somehow think you have just gained your next "great" moniker to go by for a while.
>But what is even worse, you are sure there was an innuendo hidden in her words as well.
>She knows what she said, and you are sure she tries to get a reaction out of you.
>But before Pin Point can even get the chance to do anything stupid in relation to her blatant hints, the rest of her little squad comes in to rescue you.
>Her brother is quick to reprimand her.
>"That's enough, Pin. Remember why we are here."
>For once, you are grateful to hear Mender's voice.
>Yet his sister does not give up so easily.
>"Why, yes. To knock out this handsome birdie. And now it's time to claim the reward."
>"It's not the reward you're thinking of though."
>You wholeheartedly agree with him on this.
>The Unicorn mare is not exactly happy with that, however.
>"Aw, not even a few minutes?"
>"Not as long as I'm your older brother. Now give me a moment to get the business out of the way first."
>You have no idea what kind of stuff the mare was dreaming of, and possibly even talking about out loud, in the time between your last shot at her and now.
>But frankly, you prefer it that way.
>Dissatisfied in probably more than one meaning of the word, the Unicorn sullenly heeds the words of her brother.
>After this dispute of sorts has been settled, you hear Mender trotting up to you.
>He taps you on the shoulder.
>"Are you alright? Pin didn't hold back with this one."
>Except for allegedly being dead, you are fine.
>Thanks for asking.




>You know what he refers to though.
>And you can hear in Mender's voice that his concerns are sincere, much to your initial surprise.
>You would have thought that he might at least get some light amusement out of her sniping stunts.
>Yet if he does, he hides it very well.
>So you give him a neutral answer.
"I'm fine. No need for medics or something."
>"Not even a break?"
"It's all good. Carry on."
>"Fine. You know what's coming next then."
>You hear the others coming closer.
>And together they begin to loot the spoils.
>The bags are the first thing to go.
>Someone lifts them off your back.
>And only a moment later, you can hear the sounds of said plunderer rummaging around.
>"We've got the scrolls here."
>Nail.
>"Shall we look what's inside the casings, boss?"
>Mender intervenes.
>"No. Leave that to the Big One."
>The big one?
>Who is that supposed to be?
>You assume this must be the title of their leader, although this is only an educated guess.
>Do all the ponies here give their leaders strange names?
>"It's enough when everypony knows that we have beaten the courier and claimed the scrolls."
>"Three out of four, you mean."
>Scrap Mender grumbles.
>"That will do anyway. We'll be the talk of the whole stronghold."
>Yes yes, prestige hunting.
>The thing that Daring mentioned about the scavengers and their ever shifting hierarchy.
>Mender wants to be the new cool colt on the block, and you might have just given him the opportunity to be just that.
>Either way, you register that Nail inspects everything else in your bags as well, whilst another scavenger has managed to untie your cloak.
>Looks like the ruse of pretending to be an Earth pony is gone for good now.
>Not that many locals would still fall for it after what you have done in the last two days alone.
>But you would have preferred to keep the option.
>"Ooh. Neat map. Not bad for a rough drawing."
>Still Nail.
>And Measure chimes in.
>"Hm, I swear I've seen this drawing style somewhere before."
>"You did?"
>"Yes. If memory serves, it must have been in one of my old adventure books."
>"Heh, I guess that means the pony who drew this thing likes the same author."
>You do not think that Daring would qualify as narcissistic enough to admire herself like a fan, but you keep that thought to yourself.
>And right now, you have other things to keep track of anyway.
>Mender's next instruction, for instance.
>"Pin, help me to roll him. I need to reach the fastenings of the saddle."
>"I could do it for you, Scrap. If you let me..."
>"No magic! You'd only reach for the wrong 'fastening' in your state."
>"But..."
>"Use your hooves to help me. And put them where I can see them."
>Seems like Scrap Mender is not overly fond of having Pin fondle you in less than appropriate ways too.
>Though you have the sneaking suspicion that he does it more for the sake of his sister, and not so much to lessen any potential embarrassment on your side.




>Or perhaps a little bit of each.
>You had no chance to see it for yourself yet, but both #deca.mare and Daring Do have reassured you that Scrap Mender is in reality a fairly decent pony.
>Unless he is one's rival on the field, given that he plays a wholly different persona within the game, you presume.
>You probably just had the misfortune to meet that side of the coin first.
>And as you ponder over this, you feel how four hooves roll you over to the side.
>Mender then unravels the prism saddle with the same competence that he used to fasten it in the first place.
>"A bit dirty, but the mechanism itself is in pristine condition. We'll put that one to good use."
>And there goes the saddle.
>The scavengers have officially stripped you of everything.
>Mender raises his voice again, audibly satisfied.
>"Decent haul. Pin, take the saddle for now."
>"Yes, boss."
>You interpret his choice of giving her the saddle as a distraction.
>So that she has something to play with which is not you.
>And as far as you are concerned, this is fine.
>However, the whole situation suddenly drifts into a direction that you did not see coming.
>Because Scrap Mender's next words pique your attention.
>"Alright, the package is ready to be wrapped. Picky, Straight, bring the pole and the rope."
>Uhm, okay.
>Do they go for a role reversal or something?
>That would explain the rope, but what are they planning to do with the pole?
>#deca.mare chimes in at this point.
>"They are doing us a favour without knowing it, Anon."
>You do not question her assessment, yet a part of you cannot help but wonder about her strange way to tell you these things sometimes.
>Sure, she wants you to feel the suspense of the moment to delve into the mood of the scene.
>But right now, you would prefer a more direct answer.
>"I do not have to tell you, Anon. You will see for yourself."
>Before you can ask what she means, you feel that you are being rolled on your back by three ponies.
>And judging from the sensation, you are getting handled by the trio of stallions.
>One of them grabs the forelimbs of your proxy to stretch the legs upwards.
>He does it slowly, carefully minding not to harm you in the process.
>You have to give him this much credit.
>But despite that relatively cautious treatment, you open your eyes again to see what the hell these scavengers have in mind.
>You look into the eyes of Picky Measure.
>Whilst he is busy with keeping your forelimbs in place.
>And the stallion gazes right back at you.
>He neither expresses any signs of anger nor malicious intent, but he seems to realise that you are not sure what is happening right now.
>"Keep calm. It won't take long."
>Uh huh.
>Famous last words before any disaster, right?




>You see Straight Nail approaching with a pole, similar to the one that they have used in your first engagement.
>He steps up to you, and slowly shoves the long wooden stick between your limbs.
>Then comes Mender from the other side.
>And he has a firm rope in the grip of this teeth.
>Just one moment later, he begins to tie your forelimbs to the pole.
>Not too tight, yet firmly enough that it will hold.
>And you notice that he generously avoids to apply any bindings near the bandaged part of your leg.
>A considerable gesture on the one hand.
>But also a confirmation that they really do mean what they are preparing here on the other.
>Oh brother.
>So this is what #deca.mare meant with the scavengers being the key to enter the base.
"Seriously? You're going to shanghai me?"
>Scrap Mender raises an eyebrow.
>"'Chain high'? No, we're taking you with us."
>Never mind.
>You are not even trying to explain that term to them.
>True to his word though, Mender and his team bind your rear legs to the pole as well.
>Once this is done, both Straight Nail and Picky Measure each pick up one end of the pole.
>With the active help of Scrap Mender and some magical support from Pin Point, the two stallions place their respective end of the pole onto their backs.
>Your proxy gets hoisted along as well.
>You now hang upside down in the air, about one hoof-width above the ground.
>Whilst Measure and Nail carefully balance your weight between them.
>Most likely to prevent you from falling down unintentionally.
>Not the most comfortable position you have been in, but far less inconvenient than you would have thought.
>Though the inherent sturdy physique of ponies does help a fair deal as well.
>For while you feel the pressure on your proxy's limbs as you hang there in suspension, the legs are resilient enough to handle a strain like this.
>Sure, the blood circulation to the extremities may be lightly impaired, and the ropes could start to chafe after a while, but an average pony would have to remain in this position for more than a day before it would begin to feel really uncomfortable.
>And yet more time before medical issues might become a concern.
>Fortunately though, you doubt that they will let you hang for this long.
>After all, the base they are taking you to cannot be this far away.
>And despite your personal quarrel with Mender and his partially questionable tactics, you do not think he will leave you any longer in this situation than strictly necessary.
>Because not only would it be a horrible display of ill will, it would also be pointless.
>He has gotten what he wanted from you already.
>Now he only has to worry about his sister possibly getting more than anyone would be really comfortable with.
>Though you for your part will happily do your best to prevent any misunderstandings.




>So while you keep enjoying the world from your upside down perspective, Mender looks at you directly and raises his voice.
>"We're giving you the benefit of the doubt and don't tie up your wings, Anon. See it as our sign of confidence that you won't try anything stupid. You know what I mean."
>Like any attempt to fly off with the pole, you reckon.
>Which would be a completely hopeless cause anyway, as they could easily shoot you down again.
>Nevertheless, you understand what he wants to tell you between the lines.
>He knows how much most Pegasi instinctually hate to have their wings restricted like this, as a good number of them consider their wings to be their pivotal set of limbs.
>And not knowing whether you are one of those ponies or not, Mender actually tries to do you a favour.
>After setting you up to fail, trying to ambush you twice, and shooting you down just a moment ago, granted, but those things appear to be common habits in this part of the world.
>It is all the nature of the game.
>As such, you take the attempt at a polite gesture for what it is and nod.
"I'm not trying to."
>Content with your answer, he gives the signal to head out.
>"To the base. The Big One will be delighted to hear of our success."
>And if this means you are one step closer to the completion of your mission, so are you.
>The group of scavengers quickly begins to move and canter across the field.
>Mender takes the lead at the head, Nail and Measure follow side by side with you in between, and Pin Point acts as the rear guard.
>And of course she would do so willingly.
>That way she can always keep an eye on you during the trip.
>And if the distance between her and you gets too short for Mender's tastes, he can always run just a little bit faster to accelerate the pace.
>You for your part simply keep your eyes shut most of the time.
>Because all you can see are ponies anyway.
>If you look up front, you see Picky Measure running from the side.
>To the left, you see Mender's backside, and if you look to the right, you see two staring eyes constantly focussing you.
>Not exactly inviting options of your choice.
>Instead, you do the next best thing you can think of as an alternative, and project the digital version of Daring's map into your mind.
>The scavengers might have plundered the original, but nobody can take #deca.mare's digital copy away from you.
>And since it displays your current location as well, you use it to track where the four are taking you.
>Yet as you can quickly tell from their course, they are not directly taking you to the main scavenger base near the core.
>Based on what you can see, they are rather heading for a secondary location in relative proximity to their stronghold, as they called it.
>What is that about?
>Though #deca.mare is quick to scatter your doubts.
>"This is all according to plan, Anon. Be patient."
>Hah, it is not like there is anything else for you to do anyway.




>You try to relax.
>Then you wait and hang some more, taking in the experience of a light steady swinging sensation as you listen to the characteristic sounds of sixteen running hooves hammering against the dusty ground again and again.
>It would almost be strangely romantic if you were not dragged around like a bundle on a stick.
>After another short while, you come up with a topic that you could inwardly discuss with #deca.mare.
>Say, is it normal to abduct ponies you have beaten in the game?
>"The practice is technically not against the rules. But it does not happen all that often."
>Please define "not all that often".
>"Some groups sometimes nap a pony or two after a particular large engagement. Usually the leaders of the defeated party."
>And then?
>"Then they take the captives to their respective base and keep them there for a short while."
>That is it?
>"It is. Generally speaking, the napped ponies are free to go after a day or two."
>Then what is the point behind it, apart from prestige like in this case?
>"It is mainly just that. Although some also use this tactic to look for potential recruits. But before you get the wrong idea, no, the hiring methods remain civilised and base entirely on voluntary enlistment."
>As civilised as dragging someone off on a wooden stick like a tribe of backwoodsponies can be, you suppose.
>Considering how they treat you so far in spite of being their de facto prisoner though, you think you see her point.
>More time passes.
>By now you hang upside down for about an hour.
>But apart from your small quiet chat with #deca.mare, and two occasions in which one of the scavengers asks if you are still alright, practically nothing interesting happens.
>You merely watch as the small glowing spot on the map slowly moves forwards.
>The group is advancing fairly steadily and at a decent speed.
>Yet due to the relatively vast emptiness between the different locations, moving from one place to the other still takes a while.
>And occasionally, when you feel particularly underused, you scan the perimeter for fun.
>Most of the time you detect absolutely nothing beyond the four signatures directly around you.
>But during a few sweeps on the highest range, you can pick up faint traces of activity near the very edge of your detectable grid.
>And as time passes and the distance to the base shrinks, the number of instances of you actually spotting someone else out there increases notably.
>From these readings alone you can infer that the place they are taking you to must bustle.
>At least as far as wasteland standards are concerned.
>#deca.mare drops another few hints for you.
>"This is how it should be, Anon. Barring the ever contested core area, this scavenger fortification is only second to their main stronghold."




>So this is the place where Mender and his group usually live when they are not on the field.
>A very sizable settlement, with a more or less working infrastructure to be sure.
>Yet not quite the real deal when compared to the actual scavenger stronghold.
>But given the lengths and hoops that Scrap Mender and his entourage went through to catch you, they really want to secure their ticket into the main fortification.
>It looks like it is worth the effort to them.
>And since #deca.mare promised you that losing the fight will open all the necessary doors for you, you have the sneaking suspicion that his stratagem will work out quite well.
>About a quarter of an hour later, the outlines of the settlement appear on the horizon.
>Even though you cannot see much of it, due to the cantering scavengers blocking most of your vision, you very quickly realise that this thing is yet another league above the stone-walled mini-towns you have seen from the distance.
>For while this settlement is still a collection of houses, they are notably larger than the previous wooden and stone structures.
>These are multi-level brick houses that can be used for anything from a simple depot to a workshop or a dwelling.
>And there are more of them as well.
>You think you count up to roughly two dozen buildings, neatly built in close proximity to each other.
>As for the fortifications of the settlement, they are also more elaborate and scaled up to reflect the value of the location.
>It too has a sturdy stone wall and a secured gateway with a pair of watch towers, but that is not all.
>You see additional towers of a similar style embedded into the boundary wall at several spots, ensuring that the ponies within have an encompassing vision of the entire surrounding area.
>A surprise attack on this settlement has very low chances to succeed, as the sneaking parties would be spotted fairly easily.
>Especially so during the day.
>And there is even more.
>Additional installations have been added to some of the rooftops that look like full-fledged outdoor decks, complete with a canopy of their very own.
>You assume the latter feature is meant to shield the ponies beneath it from surprise plunge attacks of potentially looming Pegasi above the clouds.
>A design choice to counter the fact that an airborne raid would be the most effective strategy to tackle the defences of this place.
>Or rather, the approach with the highest chance of actually doing some damage.
>And to top it all off, the scavengers have dug a dry moat around the wall.
>The trench is neither very deep nor steep, probably because of safety reasons above anything else.
>Yet it sill hinders potential opponents to some degree as it prevents them from simply charging the walls, or the gate for that matter, in large numbers.




>You study the whole thing for quite a while.
>And you ask yourself a simple question.
>If this is the second largest installation of the scavengers, then what on Earth does the largest one of them look like?
>It must be a position of absolute superlatives in terms of wasteland standards.
>Then again, so does the bunker of the knights, if you think about it.
>The place did not seem like much on the surface, for obvious reasons, yet it is nevertheless a considerable structure in its entirety.
>Your team steadily approaches the gates.
>As the five of you draw closer, you get to see some other scavenger teams from up close.
>The vast majority of them travels in groups of three to eight ponies.
>And while they consist of mares and stallions from all different walks of life and talents, they do share some common visual features with one another.
>For instance, most of them appear rugged.
>Their manes and tails are unkempt, and the colours of even the brightest coats look dimmed and muddy.
>And their clothing, of those who have some, is not much better off.
>As you are getting dragged towards the archway of the main gate, your group encounters many ponies who wear worn down and partially tattered clothes as apparel.
>You notice that some have also chosen to additionally "adorn" their look with a few pieces of scrapped metal and other hard shells as improvised armour.
>Some others completely forego the clothing aspect and have instead simply resorted to covering parts of their bodies with makeshift armour plates that are held in place by straps.
>Of course, virtually all of the scavengers have some form of offensive gear on them.
>Ranging from simple melee prop weapons, up to the strange muzzle guns and saddled barrels.
>It is obvious that the scavengers are constantly ready for an engagement.
>Against whomever that may be.
>At first glance, one might think these ponies have lived through some serious hardships.
>But you can immediately tell that this display is deliberately chosen, and not a sign of neglect or mistreatment.
>The scavengers are, without exception, healthy and well-fed.
>Hell, many of them even have a considerable physique.
>Most likely because of the taxing activities they are willingly living through from day to day.
>Strong ponies like Straight Nail and Picky Measure are certainly not the exception at this place.
>And unless your eyes are deceiving you completely at the moment, you also find a few scavengers who apparently have sprinkled their coats with dust and soot on purpose.
>It dims the otherwise vivid hues of their hair.
>Presumably to appear more fitting in this less than colourful atmosphere.
>Plus, it makes them less of an obvious target as well.
>As you look upon this, you do not feel that misplaced any more, given that you are almost clean in comparison to some of the more severe cases of everyday pollution.
>However, there are a few things you do find striking indeed.




>First, the place itself looks comparatively clean for a settlement that is in use all the time and inhabited by who knows how many ponies.
>Sure, it has the same artificially worn down look as practically all the other surface structures you have encountered in the game, but the settlement is not filthy.
>Further indicators that the display of dirt is more of a choice, and not a sign of bad living conditions.
>The second thing you notice: Mender was indeed not lying when he claimed that Pegasi are a rarity in places beneath the clouds.
>For this settlement harbours almost exclusively Earth ponies and Unicorns.
>Apart from your proxy, you only find a handful of other winged ponies in the crowd.
>And the third peculiarity, there is hardly any energy weapon in sight.
>In fact, there seem to be barely more of those prism-based saddles around than there are Pegasi.
>So you assume at least some of the weapons in circulation must have been found or looted somewhere on the field.
>Even when the Pegasi may have brought a couple of pieces with them when they joined the scavengers.
>You can see why your instructor was so keen to plunder yours from the first moment onward.
>Such a thing is quite the status symbol around these parts.
>After the five of you have passed the gate, Mender proceeds to lead your squad unerringly through the good number of ponies who are currently active on the streets.
>Most of the inhabitants leave you alone without much of a thought.
>A couple of others wave to Mender and his friends, and a few also look at you as they see what the two stallions are carrying.
>Yet they all only eye you with fleeting curious glances before they either focus on one of the four again, or do something else entirely.
>If #deca.mare had not informed you about the local habit of sometimes not only stealing the enemy's stuff, but also the enemy himself at the same time, you might have perceived it as a worrisome reaction.
>But strangely enough, you do not feel overly imprisoned or put on display for show either.
>Despite the whole bound to a pole and getting carried through the streets thing at that.
>To the scavengers, things of this kind are more or less common day occurrences.
>So you are not seen as an attractive target.
>Or even something special in the first place.
>In fact, you are sure nobody here except Mender and his boss are even aware of your title and mission.
>After all, if these ponies really are as competitive as Daring Do described them, you are sure a rival or two would have also participated in the hunt to snatch you before Scrap Mender could have done it.
>And you suppose it is a good thing that you five keep this secret to yourselves.
>Both for your mission, and for the four.
>Since this team will apparently deliver you and your message to the main scavenger stronghold, you would gain nothing by making a scene.




>Even if you were able to incite half the settlement to fight over you and the scrolls you brought, it would not make anything easier.
>Because you have no way of knowing who would win out in the end, and what plans said hypothetical individual would have.
>No.
>There are too many unpredictable factors in the equation.
>Especially since Mender has already flat out stated that he wants to use you to bargain his way into a more prestigious position.
>So the best option you have is to just wait and see what happens.
>The five of you pass the side walls of three buildings before Mender takes a turn, leading you to the entrance of one of the smaller houses.
>If one can call a two-level construct made of bricks small, that is.
>Once he has stepped up to the small porch and reached the sturdy wooden door, Mender slowly pushes it open and waves the rest of you in.
>Hm, whatever this place is, it does not appear to be locked.
>Or overly secured in any other way.
>Regardless of that, the members of the squad trot past their leader to enter.
>Though it takes Straight Nail and Picky Measure a little bit of carefully moving back and forth to fit through the threshold with you in between.
>The moment you are inside, you try to take a look around.
>It is not quite so easy to make something out in the room whilst being surrounded by four ponies.
>But you manage to get a few glimpses of it nonetheless.
>And the interior of the lobby is quite unusual, as the decor is practically non-existent.
>No counter, no furniture.
>Or anything else of that nature which one would expect in the lobby of a public house.
>The hall is effectively empty, except for one certain feature.
>Half a dozen iron cages that are just standing there, seemingly scattered around at random.
>Judging from the size, each of them can effectively hold about three or four ponies without cramming.
>Ah, so that is what this house is about.
>Or at the very least the ground level of the building.
>A staircase is located at the opposite wall of the room.
>Leading upwards.
>But you have no means to determine what is happening on the other level.
>There are, however, two things you notice rather quickly.
>Aspects in which this prison differs from what you would have expected.
>One, the floors of the cages are decked with cushions.
>And two, they all also contain at least one care package of food and a generous container with clear drinking water.
>Well, certainly not a holiday resort by any stretch of the imagination, but a fairly "generous" offer of subsistence for someone who is technically a captive.
>Nail and Measure trot up to one of the empty cages, slowly lower you to the ground, back first of course, and begin to untie you.
>Once you are freed from the bindings and the pole, the two stallions let you stand up, and motion you to step inside.
>You take one deep breath and stretch your limbs for a short moment before you comply.




>Then you get into the cage, turn around to face your captors, and sit down.
>Straight Nail closes the hatch and seals it with a primitive iron latch.
>"Make yourself comfortable. We've got some business to deal with before we're back."
>He turns around to walk off.
>The other three do the same and leave the building.
>Although Pin Point needs a not quite so subtle nudge from Mender to get along with it.
>And so, you are left alone for the moment.
>With seemingly nothing to do.
>Yet you are not going to be idle.
>Instead, you try to assess the situation rationally and scout what potential options you have at hand.
>The first thing you notice is the iron latch.
>This model possesses an incredibly simple mechanism with a single bolt that can be pushed back and forth.
>It is not even locked in any way.
>On top of that, the gaps between the bars of the cage are wide enough for a pony to reach through with a hoof.
>You realise that unlocking this thing is a trivial matter which requires absolutely no skills.
>Everyone with one functioning forelimb can do that with ease.
>#deca.mare answers your next question before you can even formulate it in your mind.
>"This is a deliberate choice, Anon. Captives are supposed to have that option."
>Really?
>"Indeed. Take sanitary aspects for instance. It is far more agreeable for everypony involved when captives can free themselves. In order to use the pit instead of, you know, making a mess inside the house."
>You blink.
>So prisoners are allowed to walk in and out as they please?
>"Well, captured ponies are of course expected to return to the cages after the deed is done. This is generally regarded as an unwritten rule of fairness."
>A strange form of pragmatism, combined with the fact that all of this is still a game at the end of the day.
>You evaluate this new intel.
>And quickly come to the conclusion that you cannot use it for much.
>You could of course try your luck at a prison break and be on the run, but to where and for what purpose?
>You are virtually surrounded by ponies who, at the slightest hint of suspicion, would quickly surround you in a matter of seconds to bring you back.
>The rarity of winged ponies in this settlement does not exactly help you to blend incognito into the crowd either.
>But on the flipside, taking flight to get the hell out of here is not a viable option.
>Since there is still a small handful of fliers amongst their ranks who can stalk you.
>Fliers who are fully armed, unlike you at the moment.
>No, this it not viable.
>You have to conclude that, whatever you could try to get out of this place, the chances of success are slim.
>Besides, fleeing now would render your capture pointless in the first place.
>#deca.mare is quick to confirm your analysis.
>"Just wait and see. Things will work out just fine."
>You sigh again and go along with it.
>She knows what she is doing.
>So you keep sitting still in the centre of the cage, waiting for the things that are to come.




>As you idle more or less voluntarily, you take a look around and inspect the other cages.
>Three of the five are empty, and the other two are occupied by one pony each.
>The first holds a fully unrestrained Unicorn stallion.
>He merrily munches a salad sandwich during his captivity.
>Despite being able to get out any time with a flick of his horn.
>And once the stallion notices you watching him, he smiles and waves to you.
>You mirror his waving out of simple politeness, even though your brain tells you that a prisoner is not supposed to look this content.
>But considering #deca.mare's words about how the scavengers treat their caught ponies, he does not appear to suffer from any psychological condition.
>What you see here is merely a happy pony who has a semi-voluntary break.
>You look over to the second filled cage.
>There you spot an Earth pony mare, and you can immediately diagnose her with a condition for which one does not have to be a doctor to recognise it.
>The bulge at her midsection is unmistakable.
>You need some clarification on this one, as you cannot believe your eyes.
>Uhm, #deca?
>Why is there a pregnant mare sitting in a cage?
>She wasn't taken from anyone in this state, right?
>Surely, no pony in here would even consider that possibility.
>"Nopony did. She is here because she wants to."
>And why in Equestria would she want that?
>#deca.mare giggles over the comm.
>"It is a honeymoon roleplay between her and her husband. She plays the role of a 'hapless' mare who got caught by a group of savage ponies. And now she is in the act of slowly falling in love with one of the wild stallions."
>And the other part is obviously played by said husband.
>"Naturally. They have been at it for quite a while."
>She giggles again.
>"If you want to know, the cage she is currently sitting in is the place where she got pregnant in the first place."
>You blink and wonder whether they were alone during the deed.
>After all, this place is not exactly private, even at the best of times.
>You also cannot imagine that she would willingly spend day after day in a cage for months on end.
>"No, she is not here all the time. But this house remains the place where the two play most of their more, well, cordial acts."
>You take that statement for what is and keep staring at the pregnant pony with a mixed set of feelings.
>The mare also does not seem to be overly perturbed by the situation she is in.
>On the contrary, she looks perfectly fine.
>Maybe even a tad excited.
>And you assume that the triple ration of only the best boxed food one can get inside this prison is not a bad boon either.
>Besides, you do not have to wonder for very long why she seems to be somewhat excited.
>Because only a couple of minutes later, the door at the main entrance is opened again.




>A single stallion enters the room.
>Another Unicorn, one of those who simply wear makeshift ragtag scavenger armour plates right on their coats.
>The "heavy" toy hammer he carries on his back, as well as the wooden spear with a "pointy" foam tip that is attached to his side like a lance, indicate that he is the type that loves to charge in for a personal confrontation in battle.
>And the intention for his visit quickly becomes obvious too.
>For he immediately looks at the mare, and beams with joy like the sun itself.
>The warm expression is completely contradictory to his otherwise wild appearance.
>His wife is equally elated to see him come... home?
>Or whatever word fits best for this arrangement.
>Regardless of that, he quickly goes to the hatch of the cage, opens it, and firmly embraces the mare inside.
>The two whisper some words to each other, but they are too hushed for you to decipher anything coherent.
>Nevertheless, you can imagine what they are talking about.
>After a brief, albeit heart-warming hug, the two part again.
>The stallion scans the room, and sees both the other Unicorn and you sitting in your cages.
>Seemingly taking this information in, he says something to his wife before he approaches the staircase.
>He goes to the upper level and audibly looks for something.
>A few moments of listening to the sounds of things getting shoved around later, you hear him coming down the stairs again.
>And he brought something with him.
>Fairly wide, intransparent drapes.
>You think you know what he is about to do.
>And indeed, you do not get disappointed.
>The stallion spreads the cloth of the drapes, and throws the whole arrangement onto the cage of his wife.
>The drapes encapsulate the iron construct almost completely.
>Only a small gap between the ground and the cloth remains.
>Happy with the result, the stallion trots to the now covered hatch.
>Then he drops both the hammer and the lance, and leaves them lying on the ground right where they land.
>He clearly does not need those for what is bound to happen very soon.
>You see the scavenger lifting the drapes just high enough for him to disappear beneath them.
>The muffled telltale creaking sounds of an opening iron hatch echo through the room as the stallion joins his wife.
>Envisioning the rest of the events is up to your imagination.
>Though the occasional faint snicker and laughter tell you exactly in which direction things are going.
>And even though you cannot see what is unfolding underneath the drapes, you still focus on the covered cage.
>Partly because you try to process why the two would like to spend their honeymoon in a place like this, and partly because you have nothing better to do.
>"They are a little bit like us when we got together, are they not?"
>That came from the comm channel.
>Huh?
>"Do they not remind you of us when we were freshly engaged?"
>I do not recall locking you up in a cage.




>#deca.mare laughs.
>"No, but you flung me into a bath tub."
>You grin slightly in turn.
>That was something else.
>And your, ahem, 'participation' played a huge part in it too, #deca.
>"Fair enough. Though we used to do many wild things back then, right?"
>Right.
>In many ways, we still do.
>Only differently.
>Because we know each other much better now than we did in the early days.
>"And these two are just like that. They are finding what they can best enjoy with each other."
>Point taken.
>Yet you are not sure whether the wasteland is the best place to foal.
>"It is actually much safer than you realise. Remember, there are always several medic teams on call above the clouds. They can cover every square kilometre of the field in minutes."
>Plus, when something happens in a major settlement like this one, they will hear about it very quickly.
>You exhale once and lean your proxy's back against the iron bars behind you.
>And you still keep looking at the other cage as another thought crosses your mind.
>Admit it, you would have considered trying something similar if you had come with me to the game.
>You can practically feel #deca.mare shrugging on the other side with a sheepish grin on her face.
>"I would not say no if you were open to it, if that is what you want to know."
>That is as good as a yes.
>"But I recommend you not to make any plans just yet."
>Not that I did, but why?
>"Because there is one challenge yet to master before the day is over."
>And which one will that be?
>You hear #deca.mare sighing on the other end of the comm channel.
>"It will reveal itself in less than a minute."
>Oh boy.
>You do not like the way she is saying this.
>At all.
>Almost at the exact same moment, you think you register a weak thudding sound in the room.
>Whilst your brain realises that something strange is happening, an entity suddenly materialises near you.
>It is the shape of a pony, standing right in front of your cage.
>And you think that your blood instantly freezes in your veins as you realise that it is not just any pony.
>You face a certain Unicorn mare.
>Who apparently appeared out of nowhere.
>Pin Point looks at you, with an almost unsettling wide grin on her face.
>Her eyes focus you like a dragon who eyes its hoard.
>Oh fuck, no.
>Hell no.
>Not in a million years.
>You have no idea what expression you convey at the moment, and how Pin Point's skewed perception of the world might interpret it for that matter, but she seems to understand that her sudden reveal caught you completely unprepared.
>She laughs heartily.
>"Surprised to see me, rooster?"
>#deca.mare quickly chimes in.
>"Whatever she does, just do not relent. And nothing can happen. Trust me."
>Great.
>Easier said than done with a prurient mare in your face, #deca.




>You do not have the time to think of a strategy or anything, so you quickly decide to engage her in a civilised conversation.
>And hope against hope to find a quick way out of this number.
"How did you get in again?"
>"Falling for the same trick thrice, are we? Hah, can't blame you. My dear brother didn't notice my leave either."
>She points at the covered tent.
>"I knew our friend Tally here would come to visit his wife. He does that every day. Snuck in right behind him."
>This bloody scavenger mare and her damned invisibility.
>If you had not relied on stealth technology in the past as well, you would give in to the temptation to outright curse it.
>But you have no time for this right now.
>For the conversation immediately goes into a dangerous territory.
>"They're real sweethearts together, aren't they?"
>Yeah, you would have to be an imbecile to not see what she will be alluding to next.
>Pin Point places her forehooves on two of the iron bars and leans against the cage, showing as much of her to you as possible.
>"Don't you want to do it like them?"
>You try not to fly off the handle during your response, yet you put it bluntly to hammer home the point nevertheless.
"No."
>The Unicorn mare tilts her head, still smiling smugly.
>"Really?"
>She does not seem to be convinced.
>And you wish you were surprised by that.
>But she behaves exactly as you feared she would.
>Still, you persist.
"Yes, really. No matter what you say, the answer is no."
>"Oh? There's no need to be timid, my little rooster."
>You groan.
"Look, I know you're looking for a cock, but this bird isn't it. Do you understand?"
>Her expression does not change in the slightest.
>No, she does not understand.
>"Timid, like I said."
>Pin Point chuckles.
>"But I can help you with that."
>Her horn begins to glow.
>You notice that her aura encases the latch of the cage.
>"You know the saying. When the princess does not come to the mountain, the mountain must come to the princess."
>Her magic shoves the bolt aside, unlocking the latch in one swift move.
>Pin Point then slowly pulls at the hatch to open the cage.
>The creaking of the iron hinges can be heard in the whole room.
>And as far as your tastes are concerned, her saying contained way too many allusions to the word 'mount' and damsels in distress.
>Fairly sure that you do not need that kind of rescue, you quickly shoot up to grab the hatch as well.
>You pull it back with a ferocity that Pin Point does not expect.
>The hatch closes again with a loud slamming sound.
>Pin Point, not willing to let go, forcefully bumps into the iron bars too.
>The impact is not strong enough to hurt her, but she clearly must have felt the blow with her whole body.
>Still, the mare is not convinced of your stance.




>"You are determined. I like headstrong ponies."
"No, you got your mind fried by the charge of an energy cell."
>"How poetic. But it would sound better without the bars between us, don't you think?"
>She pulls again.
>Creak.
>And you rebut her attempt in both meanings of the word.
"No, it wouldn't! And this is a private prison cage! No mares allowed!"
>Slam.
>"Come on. I see in your blush that you want to."
>Creak.
"Get lost! I'm married!"
>Slam.
>"As if. What wife would let a handsome stallion like you wander around in the wasteland alone?"
>Creak.
"She's with me all the time, thank you very much!"
>Slam.
"And while we're at it, I'm not here either! This is just a super advanced robot!"
>You have dropped any notion of pretence at this point, if only for the fact that Pin Point cannot really discern between truth and fake in her current state.
>And your arguments seem to amuse the mare somewhat.
>Looks like it does not matter to her what you say.
>Or how plausible it may be.
>But you are fine with this arrangement.
>As long as it helps you to keep her out, it is all you need.
>"I don't think so. If it looks like a stud, walks like a stud, and talks like a stud..."
>Pin Point encases the hatch with her magic aura to enhance her pull.
>And you slowly begin to lose ground.
>"... then what makes you think you're a robot?"
>Not so fast.
>Two can play this game.
>You tighten your grip on the bars and spread your wings.
>Then you start to flap.
>You produce strong, controlled strokes to counter her magic grip.
>And the sudden wind causes her to stagger.
>However, the strokes are not quite as effective as they were the first around, as you have no dust nearby that you could blow up her nostrils.
>But it does the job just fine.
>For now.
"It's the truth! Vat-grown and all!"
>"Silly Anon, robots don't grow in vats. If they were real at all."
>The glow around her horn intensifies.
>Creak.
>And you put more effort into your flaps in response.
"Stop it! For the last time, you won't find what you are looking for in here!
>Slam.
>"I don't think so, rooster."
"Stop calling me that! Your shots broke the plumbing anyway!"
>A bold lie of course, but who cares?
>It is worth a try.
>But Pin Point discards this statement like all the others.
>"Let me be the judge of that. A... 'magic touch' can do wonders sometimes. And if not, I know some good healers. They'll fix you real quick."
>Creak.
"And what good does that do? Your brother will geld me if he finds out!"
>Figuratively speaking, at least.
>Another cue that the mare at the opposite side of the hatch misses entirely.
>"Still fixable. Growing back will take longer though."
>And her grin widens.
>"Besides, that's another reason you need me. He's got to get past me to reach you."
>Good grief.




>There is just no way to win with this mare.
>But you need to keep her talking.
>The more she talks, the more time you can buy.
"And how do you think you can stop him?"
>"Easy. The same way I stop you from blocking the door, rooster."
>What?
>The Unicorn mare releases the hatch from her magic grip.
>Yet her horn does not stop glowing.
>For whilst the glow around the iron dissipates, a similar aura wraps itself around your forelimbs.
>Well, shit.
>You feel a new force dragging your limbs away from the hatch.
>Pin Point pulls your proxy slightly upwards, forcing you to rear and step back.
>The mare uses the newfound opportunity to finally open the cage.
>She steps inside, still looking you straight into the eyes.
>"See? That wasn't so hard."
>And for a moment, she just stands there, keeping you semi-fixed in the air and undoubtedly enjoying the rush of overcoming the barrier.
>You on the other hand use that short respite to formulate a formal complaint.
>#deca, why the hell did you lead me into a fucking rape scene?
>"That word does not exist in any Equestrian dictionary. You know this just as well as I do, Anon."
>How would you call this then?
>"She will not go this far against your will. And everything is still going as planned."
>And what am I supposed to do now?
>"Just endure. This situation will not last for very long. Believe me."
>You do not have the time to ask what #deca.mare's definition of "not very long" is, as the scavenger mare in front of you takes the initiative and barges ahead.
>"Now come and give me a hug, rooster. You'll see, things will look totally different afterwards."
>You highly doubt that.
>Though it is not like you have much of a choice, half suspended as you are.
>Pin Point takes the last few steps towards you, rears up herself, and puts her forelimbs around your shoulders.
>Only then does she allow her magic aura to fade.
>And she does not need it anymore, as you quickly find out.
>For she presses herself against you with a considerable force.
>The mare is strong for her figure, you have to give her this much.
>Her embrace alone tells you that she never neglected her physique to solely rely on her telekinesis magic.
>Then again, you should not be surprised.
>Scavengers tend to be more physically active than most ponies, after all.
>Still, it has a notable downside for you.
>Because it means the option to fight her off has practically become impossible to consider.
>Pin Point is at the very least about as strong as you.
>Even worse, she may actually be able to overpower your proxy if you tried to get her off.
>There is no way out of this one for you, barring your option to cut the connection to the proxy, of course.
>You bet she would not even notice the difference in her trance.




>Though jettisoning the proxy and allowing Pin Point to have her way with it while you are gone is not a feasible strategy for several reasons.
>It would not count as cheating on #deca.mare since you would not have any role in the deed whatsoever, granted.
>But that is not the main problem.
>No, the issue it could present is of a different nature.
>For one, it could have a negative impact on Pin Point's recovery, since it would partially confirm her delusion and unnecessarily prolong the time span until she is her full self again.
>The second thing you want to avoid is that this event could go public.
>Not out of fear for any personal repercussions, but to avoid the risk of such a thing possibly causing damage to other ponies' relationships.
>Mender at the very least would be fuming like a madman once he would find it out.
>Even though you have your differences, this is something you absolutely do not want to do to him and his sister.
>A third tiny problem, which is tangentially related to the second, is that there might be the risk of Pin Point and her whole family knocking on the Canterlot palace doors in search for a certain courier.
>In about eleven months from now on.
>Bad.
>Very, very bad.
>And certainly not the strategy that #deca.mare was banking on.
>So as you stand there, with a much too excited mare right in your not quite so voluntary embrace, you take a look around to see what the other ponies are doing.
>The solitary Unicorn stallion inspects the room with somewhat tired eyes.
>If you had to guess, he took a nap after he was done with his treat and only woke up when the commotion between Pin Point and you began.
>He has no idea what this is about.
>But since nobody seems to be in trouble, he does not seem to intervene either.
>What about the other two then?
>They curiously stick their heads out of their little "tent".
>And both of their manes are way more ruffled than the last time you have seen them.
>It does not require a genius to figure out that they have been slamming a different set of doors while you were busy with your personal tug of war against Pin Point.
>You wordlessly point at the mare around your neck repeatedly.
>The two merely look at each other, smile, and nod understandingly as they retreat back into their own private den.
>Oh fantastic.
>They did not get it either.
>And worse, they now think it is just an act between the two of you.
>Way to go, Anon.
>Contribute in making yourself the talk of the town.
>That sure will help to smooth things over.
>You sigh as you think about the situation.
>"Not well enough yet?"
>Oh shit, Pin Point thinks this was meant for her.
"No, wait..."
>Too late.




>"There's nothing I can't put right!"
>The mare gives your shoulders a fierce push.
>The resulting jolt is strong enough to cause your rearing pose to tilt backwards and ultimately keel over.
>Naturally, Pin Point takes the chance to join you.
>You land on your back, and the scavenger mare falls squarely on top of you.
>Her hooves are still clutching your neck and shoulders, and her head is still facing yours.
>She also uses this newfound opportunity to press her body against your proxy.
>In as many places as possible.
>Yeah, this mare tries everything to coax the "correct" reaction out of you.
>Fortunately for you, you are somewhat experienced in these things.
>For #deca.mare tried to win you over with similar tactics back in the day.
>And she had much more sincere intentions.
>As such, you are not as receptible to Pin Point's lure as she might hope.
>Though her wide smile has not buckled yet.
>Not even for a millimetre.
>And feeling her every breath on your face is not helping your cause either if you are honest.
>"Well? Better?"
>You smell a chance, slim as it may be.
"I think I'd feel better if you'd roll to the side."
>Pin Point blinks for a moment as she processes this request.
>Then she nods, and almost plants a kiss on your proxy's muzzle as he does.
>Almost.
>"That's all? No problem!"
>And to your surprise, she does what you ask of her.
>Her forehooves let go of your shoulders and she rolls herself to the side.
>The whole affair gets a bit finicky when she untangles her rear legs from yours, but you can live with that.
>Once you are "free", you can feel Pin Point's weight slowly lifting itself as she slides sidewards.
>Then, at the very moment she has made herself comfortable on the cushion, she hugs you again.
>And begins to snuggle your cheek with her face while she is at it.
>Because why the hell not.
>Alright, now you have enough of this.
>You reach out to your mare in orbit.
>#deca, do you have, by any chance, a fighter squad nearby to instigate an attack on the settlement?
>You think you hear a cough sounding over the comm.
>"You do not expect a serious answer to that, Anon."
>Not a real thing.
>Only a wing or two that fires some potshots at the empty area around the settlement.
>"For what purpose?"
>A distraction, what else?
>"And what should the ponies think of it?"
>No idea, pretend it is a dragon attack or so.
>But do something to get me away from this mare!
>"This situation will not require any drastic measures on our part."
>Why?
>"Two minutes, forty-one seconds."
>Until this charade here is over?
>"Yes. Just play along until then."
>Thank goodness.
>At least an end is in sight.
>It is not like disaster is going to strike in three minutes.
>Hopefully.
>But in spite of #deca.mare's relieving news, two minutes can feel like a very long time.
>Especially so when you have a mare with you who is vying for your heart's attention in any way she can think of.




>And her next attempt follows quickly.
>"So, when do we start, rooster?"
>Oh boy.
>Just play dumb, Anon.
>Stall her for two more minutes.
"Start? I don't understand. We're already at it."
>"But there's room for so much more."
>She presses herself a little tighter against your proxy.
>And it slowly begins to be genuinely annoying.
>You get it, she is a mare.
>A mare who would do almost anything for you if it gets her closer to fulfilling her misguided desires.
>But that gives you an idea.
>What if you could take advantage of that situation?
>You could try something that you would never even consider under normal circumstances.
>Risky, but possible.
>You smile back at her.
"You're right, Pin. We should go one step further."
>That gets her immediate attention.
>"I knew you'd see reason."
>Yeah, right.
>Properly emboldened by your concession, the mare tries to crawl back up on your exposed underside again.
>But you hold her back.
"I'll need a moment though. Give me, say, five minutes to get into the right mood, if you catch my drift."
>"The mood? Oh, I'm sure I can help you out there."
>Bingo.
"Actually, you can. Just stay where you are and hug me tight. That will do nicely."
>Pin Point likes this idea.
>A lot.
>"With pleasure, rooster."
>So she does.
>Pin Point increases her pressure yet another little bit, almost making you feel like you are in the grip of a warm and fluffy constrictor snake.
>But the proxy can handle this.
>And you can let out a clamped sigh of relief, as you have hopefully bought yourself enough time to get out of this predicament without any questionable deeds.
>You simply hope that #deca.mare's way out really delivers as promised.
>Because if it does not, you are well and truly screwed.
>Well, only Pin would be, from a technical perspective.
>Yet it amounts to the same thing.
>So you keep lying still and count the seconds, trying to ignore the mare who presses your proxy as if she is willing to snap it between her hooves.
>But at the very least she has stopped her attempts to bluntly woo you with blatant comments.
>Which is some progress, you figure.
>Your count reaches sixty.
>No happenstances from either side so far.
>Looks like you managed to get Pin Point under control with your request.
>You look at the ceiling, not daring to move or say anything.
>For you fear that any slight action of yours could motivate the mare next to you to consider doing something stupid.
>It does not make waiting for rescue any easier, given that time crawls like a snail from your perspective.
>Yet it is the best course of action.
>At least from your point of view.
>But fortunately for you, you still have one other option.
>You reach out to #deca.mare to pass the time.
>Tell me, did you know this would happen on this trip?
>"Only shortly before you did. It solely depended on Pin Point and her attempt to steal away when her brother was not looking."




>Well, you know the result of that.
>But I would have appreciated a note beforehand.
>Like, hey, that mare could try to molest you under certain circumstances.
>"I did not want to unsettle you about an uncertainty. Besides, you never were in any real danger in this regard. You know how ponies are."
>Yes, normally.
>But this pony has a good number of screws loose if you did not notice.
>"It still applies to her."
>She hides that really well though.
>"It is not her fault, Anon."
>I know.
>But it does not change the status quo.
>Or the fact that she acts like a love-crazed maniac.
>"Which she will never act upon if you keep saying no."
>One minute thirty.
>Alright, fine.
>Is there anything else I should know?
>"Nothing urgent."
>Two minutes.
>Pin Point is still doing nothing.
>Good, stay like that.
>Then, shortly thereafter, you think you hear the sound of hooves coming from somewhere outside.
>They are approaching.
>I guess someone is coming through the door, right?
>"Yes. And no, it is neither Mender nor one of his squad."
>Thank goodness for that.
>Or so you think at first.
>Because shortly after you have counted to two minutes and thirty seconds, the wooden door to the outside world is viciously rammed open from the other side.
>The flung door produces a banging sound that can be heard inside the whole house.
>You shoot up.
>So does Pin Point.
>And the comfortably fed Unicorn in the other cage.
>All three of you look at the entrance.
>One massive stallion stands there, his outlines easily filling almost the entirety of the threshold.
>A huge Earth pony with a dark chestnut coat as you figure.
>And he is easily towering above the rest of them.
>Even handsome ponies like Straight Nail and Picky Measure would appear small in comparison.
>Judging from his height alone, you assume he has the same ancestry as Trouble Shoes.
>And you would not be surprised if they are actually related.
>But unlike the rather reluctant entertainer giant, this horse does not shy away from entering with a bang.
>He struts inside.
>You think each step of this hulking mass of horsepower is just on the verge of cracking the ground he is treading as the stallion unerringly walks towards Pin Point and you.
>Oh fuck.
>What the hell is happening now?
>And as if that display of ridiculous physical superiority were not enough, your mood does not improve much as you realise what kind of armament he is bearing.
>The stallion is equipped with a saddle weapon, but it is different from any other model you have seen so far.
>Because where both Mender's model and your former gear have a pair of barrels or prisms with one located on each side, this thing only has one singular barrel, mounted directly on top of his back.
>It is significantly larger too.
>In terms of size, you estimate that the thing is only marginally smaller than Pinkie Pie's party cannon.
>And while you have no idea what ammunition he fires out of this beast, you do recognise a mortar when you see it.




>But up to this point, you have never seen one that was fitted on four sturdy hooves.
>Though this is not what you should be concerned about.
>A final stomp that even lightly shakes your cage quickly reminds you that this friendly fellow here has come for a reason.
>Which is you, in all due likelihood.
>And his serious expression solidifies that suspicion.
>He raises his voice, and before he has even spoken a single word, you already know that decibels are his secondary offensive weapon.
>"Pin Point get up! Mender has told you not to go near the newblood!"
>His voice booms through the room like a cannon shell.
>Hell, you wager he could even rival the volume of his mortar with those lungs.
>But this is fine with you, all things considered, as it gets a reaction out of the mare.
>She emits a long-winded sigh and stands up.
>Well, whatever rank or authority this walking tank of a pony has, its effect on Pin Point is sufficient to override her otherwise irrational behaviour.
>The Unicorn mare turns around one last time to look at you.
>"See you later, rooster."
>Hopefully not in the next couple of days though.
>Pin Point takes her surprisingly orderly leave.
>Apart from the obviously intentional gait in which her rear just happens to swing far more prominently than strictly necessary.
>You slump back into the cushions to look away from her swaying rump and groan.
>Once she is outside and the area "safe" again, you raise your head to look at the proverbial elephant in the room.
"Thanks. She was getting way too intrusive."
>However, said stallion is not done with his roaring tirade just yet.
>"And you! You come with me!"
>Uh, alright.
>That order was loud and clear.
>And as long as he does not try to hug you, it is most likely an improvement.
>So you get up and instinctively look around to pack your gear.
>But then you remember that the list of items in your possession has become very humble not so long ago.
"Oh right."
>You leave the cage behind and approach the large scavenger.
>And shortly before you have reached him, he turns around to head for the exit.
>"Follow me. And don't try the same disappearing trick that Pin Point pulled off. This won't fly with me."
"Won't try to. But where are we going?"
>"To the main building. The Big One wants to see you."
>Hold on, what?
>You really hope this is only a title.
>Because if he refers to said individual as actually big, you do not want to know what this pony looks like.
>You are bound to find out though, no matter what.

Footnote: You have been defeated. Continue?

[Yes]x  [No]

[Command accepted.]

[Resuming simulation.]

Footnote: Title "Rooster" unlocked - A mare sends her regards. (Warning: Stacking this title with others of the same type may lead to unpredictable negative synergy. Collecting more than one is therefore not recommended.)




Dramatis personae:

There be spoilers.

Main protagonists:

Anon (You) - Human man (here in control of a male Pegasus proxy), former terran space pilot, secret co-founder of Equestria, husband of #deca.mare

#deca.mare - CPU-ship-based AGI Earth pony mare, terraforming and spacecraft specialist, secret founder of Equestria, wife of Anon

Side characters:

Scrap Mender		- Earth pony stallion, scavenger, repair pony, part-time instructor, group leader, big brother of Pin Point
Pin Point		- Unicorn mare, scavenger, marksmare, member of Scrap Mender's group, little sister of Scrap Mender
Straight Nail		- Earth pony stallion, scavenger, member of Scrap Mender's group, likes hammers
Picky Measure		- Earth pony stallion, scavenger, member of Scrap Mender's group, favours pole weapons or plain poles
The Knights 		- One stallion called Spear, two mares, in possession of heavy "arms" and prototype full-body metal suits, related to Jet Set in Canterlot
Aegis			- Unicorn stallion, advanced spellcaster trained in inner mental and defensive magic, member of the Knights albeit without armour
Dainty Daisy		- The knights' moniker for Anon's Pegasus proxy
The Elder		- Older robed Earth pony stallion, leader of the Knightly Order, strategist, chess grandmaster, father of Junior
Junior			- Unicorn stallion, adept technician, scribe, son of the Elder
Tally			- Unicorn Stallion, scavenger, husband of the pregnant mare
Rooster			- Confused Pin Point's pet name for Anon('s proxy)

Guest characters:

Daring Do (Disguised as Rainbow Dash)	- Pegasus mare, adventurer, explorer, author, in service of the Equestrian crown, artefact curator
Lightning Dust				- Pegasus mare, skilled flier, member of the wasteland Pegasi faction, former Wonderbolts Academy attendee, occasionally pigheaded and reckless