A cloud of thick dust erupted from the vault as the door fell clear. The cloud was accompanied by the loud banging noise of a quarter ton mass of steel crushing and breaking apart the crystal floor beneath it as the door impacted, and as the dust began to settle again I had to resist the urge to sneeze as we peered into the interior that was once behind the sturdy door. To say it was dark would be an understatement. The only light there was came in from the hallway entryway behind us and my pipbuck mounted on my leg, casting a dim orange light upon its contents. Tarnished coins were collapsed in piles, with remnants of paper tubing, some still intact signifying that it was once a way to keep an accurate and faster count of the bits that had been stored within. That being said the shelves that once held them had eventually collapsed from the combined weight of each bit that they had once carried alongside hundreds of years of abandonment.

Along the back had been a few skeletons, likely people who had locked themselves in the vault as a way to try and escape whatever devastation had been wrought here, and judging from their huddled forms the vault may of been thick but it wasn't radiation proof despite having been air tight. While behind the skeletons were a smaller set of vault doors, likely keeping any sort of important documents, curiously it was being tampered with as I saw it. The figure tampering with it however, came as no surprise as he had called himself Bramos, which after a quick rearrangement of the letters, made up the name Sombra.

Sombra, he was a far cry from the young stallion that had been portrayed in memory orbs, but not quite as old as many would picture a several hundred year old mortal buck. Most would consider him dead, but like most powerful weirdos in the wasteland, he must of also achieved some form of immortality. He looked as if he was in his early thirties and unlike the ornament armor of royalty, complete with blood red robes that he had in the memory orbs and the previous occasion that I had met him, he adorned a very simple winter coat and a backpack. Almost looking as if he was a gruff hiker than a former tyrant of an Empire.

As we entered the bank deposit vault I waved down Pumpkins aimed grenade launcher, as the stallion spoke in a more somber hushed tone than I thought possible, "Watch your step. The fall is lethal." As his attention remained on a specific vault box.

Catching myself I looked down, shining a light on the ground in the center of the vault, noticing indeed, that there was indeed a large pit in the exact center of the vault, and from the looks of it, deep. I opened my mouth to speak but Sombra cut me off instead, "Yes, yes I know. You want me to try and justify the things that I've done. Perhaps give a monologue to why you should trust me, raising further doubts until such a time that I somehow save your life and wash away the doubt in an emotional moment or two. But I think we both are too wise for that to work. Instead of justifying myself, then I simply need to show you the next time you make camp."

"That's why your tinkering with some long dead ponies vault box?" Pumpkin retorted for me, go her. Yeah. It wasn't like we grave robbed people all the time after a fight.

"Not anyponies, but mine. I'm simply taking back forgotten property." Sombra replied, "Similarly to you Pumpkin Blitz, I have my own motives for being in the winter wasteland. If not only to see... what has become of these.... lonesome inhabitants..." He cast a glance, a neutral expression to the skeleton next to him, "But to aid a potential asset and get something of mine back from the Crystal Castle." As he muttered the last words there was the faint click of a lock as he opened the small vault lockbox and took out another set of memory orbs and continued on, "Now, if you will take these for later, I will by the word of my mentor be accompanying you throughout the Empire as your..." He paused, considering something, "What did they call it... Tour Guide? Yes. As your Tour Guide." he stated after a short bit.

His horn lighted up as he tossed the box of memory orbs to me, and I caught it with a tendril of shadow. However was surprising was the lack of a magical aura around the box when he moved it, despite that he had done so with a surprising amount of strength for a toss. I put them in my bag with the others. And as we began to walk out Pumpkin asked, "So what do we call you?"

"For now, call me Sombra or Bramos if in the company of others. I'd rather not make anymore ponies go crazy if they aren't feral already in the case of most of the ghouls here, or somehow know of my normal name." Sombra replied evenly, "Though do watch the attitude, I hear most of the dogs that dwell here now have quite the inflated ego for surviving here as one of the top predators and speaking from the lower end of the food chain is bound to piss someone off. If not me."

Pumpkin Snorted, but a worrying gaze from me got her to behave for the most part, occasionally throwing quips at the former tyrant as we made our way back out of the now un-defended bank.

"You seem to be traveling a bit on the light side," I commented and Sombra snorted briefly in annoyance, as I continued on, "Are you going to need anything during our travels?"

"Just your attention. Unlike most of you I have a bit of a quirk with staying here." He rolled his eyes, "I will explain later when you're more open to listening to such a situation without suspicion that I'm lying but rest assured, I'll be an ideal bodyguard."

"How're you of all ponies going to be a bodyguard without any form of weapons or armor?" Pumpkin shot as a retort to his statement, and I had to agree wholeheartedly.

He wasn't exactly armed for battle, if anything he was looking like a tourist in the middle of a war zone. Extremely out of place in his outdated but otherwise normal looking clothed attire. "Magic is the only armor and weapon I require. Nothing else." Sombra replied as if educating a child, "Soon you'll see the value in my method as well. As the well versed in magic can do things no gun, sword, or explosive could even compare to. There is a reason why the devastation of the various lands was caused by megaspells rather than something like a mega of a gun or a grenade after all."

A decisive snort of disbelief from Pumpkin ended the conversation as we trotted out, the ruins of the machines and the noise of grenade fire had not gone unnoticed, however. Beyond the entryway of the bank, several white furred giant forms stood, easily taller than two average ponies was the first abominable Snow Hound I had come across. It's fur was matted, messy almost, but identifiable that its fur was put into an organization into long shaggy braids that hung all over its body. It's face was composed of thicker braids, giving it a beard that would of made my mentor jealous had he been still alive. But by no means did he look old, but instead, fit if albeit slightly malnourished. Long arms accompanied its terrifying height, and even with fur there was a definite tone to it. Unlike the braided body, the fur around the arms had been cut shorter, far smoother to the look to the point where if he was lacking armor it would of made it look like he had been wearing a vest, had it not been for the material it was made from.

There was marking on the creatures arms, faint from a distance, but more easily seen up close of its scars. Scars of strange symbols and pictures that made little sense to me. They probably had a purpose, a way of identification, or symbol of status. Perhaps it was just masochistic of it to maim its own skin, but those purposes would have to be learned. The Snow Hound didn't seem like the teaching type.

Its chest puffed out, the awkward semi spike like shape of it inflating to a more impressive bulk as he noticed us, and as we leveled our weapons he began to deflate, letting out a massive roar in the process so loud that it left my ears ringing. No good, my bullets began to leave the chamber as I took note of his armory rather than his bodily features. His brief time during inflation had suggested something as an intimidation tactic, as I snapped into S.A.T.S. for follow up shots, more details became clear.

The armor he wore was mostly to protect his limbs rather than his chest. A metal framework encased his lower arms and claws, providing a deadly looking blade to hang behind his already sharp claws. The back of these metal claws were shaped to act as a small shield in an emergency, but lacked any real mass behind it to withstand a massive beating or protect a wide area. Similarly his legs, while far smaller than his arms, were equally if not more so protected. It only made sense to protect your limbs when your chest was already several inches of hard to crack bone. Adorning his head was the mangled remains of what once must of been the helmet of a suit of power armor, before being mangled into a skull cap style hat, complete with broken circuits hanging out like psuedo-dreadlocks on its head. That means it, or whoever had made that hat, had probably killed steel rangers, or someone else with power armor. That was dangerous, but with its exposed face I knew what to do.

Exiting S.A.T.S., Ambush fired its retort, and the roaring ceased as the front of the snow-hounds face vanished into a brilliant red spray of blood. Heads and legs were the most well guarded in terms of armor, but the Hound lacked a visor or face mask to protect it from a bullet head on. As a doctor type, I would of advised against the consumption of bullets, but at the moment frankly, I was too worn out from stress over the past few weeks to care. Combat had begun, as several more of the white furred jerks appeared. They were tough, but the Brutes back in Vanhoover had been tougher. Sure there were more, but we had two key advantages they didn't.

We could Fly, and Sombra had magic.

My focus was shifted to the few dogs that had ranged weaponry, taking them out first would result in immediate cut down of our chances to be injured or die. With a hiss, I narrowly avoided one of such dogs as they fired a plasma rifle, grazing me on the cheek as he took pot shots at an airborne target. However, before I could shoot him, Sombra had begun to work.

The first dog to reach him was quite bulky, far bulkier than the one we had first felled in terms of muscle mass. As it lumbered in a charge at Sombra, his gaze started as bemused, but worked into irritation after the first few swings. The dog striked, but instead of throwing what must of seemed like an almost middle aged and unarmored pony into the distance split in two, the claws passed right through him. That is to say, they made a little bit of smoke on the point of contact and little more. By the second and third swing, the dog stopped, looking confused.

"Are you done now?" Sombra asked, as a matter of fact tone.

The dog swung again.

Sombra rolled his eyes as the claw passed through him again, and instead of taking any more of the physical abused, began to have his horn glow. A sickly purple color, with multiple mini explosions surrounding it. My gaze lingered, as a chill went up my spine. The dog collasped, reaching at its own throat and clawing desperately as if it was being choked-

No it wasn't being choked. The physical spasms were more akin to being drowned as it clawed at its throat, eyes lit similarly to Sombras own. Which only caused me to fly a bit further away from the stallion while trading bullets.

Two dogs down, Pumpkin was repeatedly shooting a single dog in the torso, uneffective considering the shotguns spread was probably moot against the wide armor of its chest. I went to assist her, but Sombra beat me to it, as a fog blacker than the darkest smoke rolled over the battlefield. Everyones attention, my own and pumpkin's included, turned to the dark stallion. His eyes were flaring with what could be little described as anger. With words that were spinechillingly calm despite his voice, he said, "Leave. Now."

The dogs, demoralized by him and the sight of the still spasming brother of theirs and the commanding presence of Sombra took his words to heart and fled. Sombra remain there standing menacingly until they all vanished from sight, he looked on the steps of the bank like the worlds worst evil, but at the drop of a hat (mostly my tattered one falling to the ground in the fight) the smoke vanished into the shadows and he cracked his neck, "As fun and dreadful as it is to be involved in a skirmish, I simply don't have the time to be dealing with hooligans."

"What. Was. That." Pumpkin said after a few seconds of stark silence.

"An illusi-" Sombra began, but was interupted by Pumpkin as she continued on.

"No, no, not the magic. That word. Are you really acting like an old man?" Pumpkin started to snicker.

What.

The Nightmare Nighter began to chuckle, "Hooligan? Bucking really?!"

"I'll have you know, back in my time that was-"

"Oh goddess and stars above, hes even using the 'back in my time bit!' " Pumpkin interrupted him again, her laughter becoming louder. I didn't get it, nor did Sombra by his face. But Pumpkin continued on, "You can't just look like some sort of grim reaper-pony one second and then go talking like an old man! That's just too much."

Her laughter started to quiet down as Sombras annoyed expression continued, when it had reached manageable levels, I asked, "Just what did you do anyway? With the glowing green and purple eyes and stuff?"

"That, would be one form of dark magic, an illusion spell that tricks the five senses to seeing something rather horrid." He explained, "A basic, an oldie, but a goodie."

"Pfft, haha, he's even calling himself an oldie!"

Sombra pointedly ignored her.

"And the fog? Was that umbra-mancy?" I asked. Albietly I could see a few uses for it, nothing major though, but if I could learn to cast that sort of magic...

"Close but no, that was Tenebris type magic. Guess you would say its a subdivision of umbramancy that purely manipulates shadow, but not to the elemental degree. Tenebris type shadow magic focuses on the conversion of normally lackluster darkness into an air like substance of which to manipulate. Aeromancy plays a small role in it, as this form relies upon minute amounts of it, and any properly trained Aero-mancer can easily counter this type of magic. Most Tenebris casters can barely get their hoof in it without long years of practice or being naturally gifted in it." Sombra stated in a matter of fact tone, a slight hint of pride in his voice, "This, however, is what I'm good at first and foremost. The other being the more typical kind of Dark Magic, which manipulates the negative emotional spectrum to become power."

Pumpkin landed down with me and asked, "Did you get any of that? That was mostly magic magic blah blah blah to me." Her chuckles were still coming.

He sighed, "This is more of a caster thing than a bird-brain thing pegasus."

"Name's Pumpkin."

"Whatever you say Watermelon." Sombra replied in complete deadpan.

"Pumpkin."

"Apple."

"No, Pummmmmp-Kin." she repeated again, her eye twitching, "Are you daft?"

"No, I'm Sombra, former tyrant of the Crystal Empire. So miss 'Pummmmmp-Kin' will you let me educate your friend here or are we going to be wasting all three of our times with more pointless annoyances?"

"Smartass."

"Feather-brain." Sombra replied in still complete deadpan.

Oh my dear sweet Luna, what was I getting into?

Xp Footnote: level up!

Skill Note: Sneak: 69

New Perk: Cold Adaptor Heat: You suffer 15% less damage over time when in a blizzard or suffering frost damage and status conditions like frostbite as well as frozen-wing are 50% less likely to occur. In Addition, you now negate 25% of the movement penalty when involved in flying in harsh cold winds or tundra like terrain. As a side benefit, your wings are now pleasantly warm to the touch.

New Companion Perk: The Eyes of the Lost: Sombra has joined your party, for good or bad Ghouls now have a 15% chance to flee at the mere sight of this former tyrant, but beware, larger pack of ghouls now spawn after a fleeing ghoul escapes to try and take this tyrant down. As a result, he draws 500% more aggro from Ghouls and Feral Ghouls while he is alive. Just what did this stallion do?!

So saw the Season six ending episode, and I have to say, Glowing wings that lead to that sort of evolution? I can hear the other changeling writers already pulling their hair out as head-canons are destroyed left and right. Meanwhile I'm over here yelling 'someone pick up the phone because I freakin' called it!' As far as the main show is concerned though I am taking notes from the Changeling oriented episodes nowadays but as far as I'm concerned the canon of Fallout Equestria ended somewhere short of Twilight becoming an Alicorn, which means no mystery cure, Sunset Shimmer redemption, or Starlight Glimmer. Which means without the first and last of those, The Chrysalis hive reformation with mama changeling refusing redemption may be canon, its not canon here.