Fallout: Equestria - The Ire of Furies

Part 1

Muffled slug throwers echoed from the surrounding alleys and windows. Thousands of rounds screeched through the air only to crumple against the magenta dome. It did not last long, the racket of gunfire soon replaced by pounding hooves as the barbarians gave up on their cowardly and futile tactics, rushing to meet their death like true warriors.

A rainbow of earth ponies stormed through the magic barrier to crash against the wall of purest gold and white. Ponies screamed in rage and pain as metal rang, flesh rent, and bone broke.

Prince Tempest stood a full head taller than any of the unicorns surrounding him. Burnished gold armour encased his entire form in overlapping plates, with mesh protecting covering vulnerable joints. A blue crest topped the helm sitting upon his brow, two bladed tines running the length of his long, spiraled horn. The violet half-cape hanging off his right shoulder was already stained with fresh blood from an earlier engagement. His grin showed far too many teeth.

A spray of red caught his eye and he spun and his raised shield, barely deflecting a knife aimed for his throat.

Her coat was blue, or would have been if not for the dirt matting her fur. A single line of spikes comprised her dirty blonde mane, her tail an unkempt mess of knots and tangles. Sewn together plates of tin and green copper covered a fair portion of her torso, likely the remnants of ancient pots and pans. The ritual scars above her eyes only served to highlight the yellowing of her irises.

Tempest thrust his magic held spear at the mare’s exposed throat. She ducked low, the bladed spearhead shearing the first spike off her mane. Air whistled across her knife as she lunged forward. Though his shield intercepted the blade once again, Tempest was unprepared for the left hook that followed. He reeled backward, bashing her muzzle with the shield’s edge.

She rolled with the strike, using the momentum to round on Tempest and lunge again.

The flat bladed spear slipped easily between the barbarian’s third and fourth rib, catching her in mid air. Blood poured around the shaft sliding deeper into her chest. She coughed, droplets of crimson spraying from her lips. Tempest tilted the spear down and slammed her back to the ground, the exposed tip cutting into the street. Her legs kicked at the open air as she fought for breath that would not come.

With the last of her strength, the barbarian hurled her rusted knife at the looming stallion. The throw was weak and unaimed, and Tempest snatched it easily from the air. He had to work the dull blade under the mare’s armour before it would slide between her ribs and up into her heart.

The giant of a unicorn ignored his training to watch as life left his opponent's yellowed eyes. He had every faith in his companions abilities to keep him safe for the short duration, and he felt he owed it to her, few of the barbarians ever managed to strike him.

His tongue tasted iron; the lip would need attention.

The barbarian had fought with skill befitting a warrior, making it past his guards proved her mettle. It was unseemly to begrudge an opponent their rightful kill, and he felt no anger toward her for her’s. Her death, preordained perhaps, had been a warrior’s death and her life no less violent or brutal. That she was an earth pony only made it so much more admirable.

Lord Tempest, the Prince of New Spring, removed his golden helmet and wiped the blood from his lip. The stiff, blue hairs of his new beard scrapped at his hoof.

Vision no longer confined, Lord Tempest surveyed the most recent field of battle. Fuchsia stained light bathed the area, filtered through the magic dome protecting his forty-five companions from the barbarians’ slug throwers. A two pony deep wall of gold and steel death surrounded him, holding back all but the single barbarian dead at his hoofs. Only two other ponies held back from the front lines, their fields responsible for holding the shield steady.

The street was wide but cluttered. Burnt out husks of ancient vehicles and the bodies of the dead, both old and new, littered the area. Glass and steel buildings created traversable walls that stretched to touch the clouds overhead. Rusted and broken poles holding long dead lamps lined the raised sidewalks.

The last barbarian perished quickly, her screams of pain silenced by a quick thrust of spear and sword.

“Captain Gorgon,” Tempest bellowed, “how fair our adversaries?”

The unicorn mare directly before him turned as she withdrew her own spear from a still twitching corpse. Jagged scars marred her white muzzle, running in streaks from the ruined horn tip to disappear beneath her own gold plated armor. “Not well, my Lord Tempest. Their bodies litter these streets, filling them with blood and shit.”

All around them spears were beat upon shields as the voices of his companions called out in cries joyous victory.

Lord Tempest smiled at his companions as he licked the small split in his lip. Stomping the butt of his spear on the ground, he asked, “How fair my companions?”

Captain Gorgon turned her white head, surveying the soldiers under her command and counting them quickly. “We have lost but five this day, a pity, but a pittance for how far we have come.”

“Then we push on.” Replacing his helmet, the son of Chronis roared, “Your Lord wishes to see this Temple of the Seraphim with his own eyes!”

“Aye, my Lord!” The Captain shouted, matching his fervor. “Forward the spears!”

The phalanx of gold armored unicorns compressed. With shields touching and spears readied, they began marching south toward the center of the city. Their voices rose in a cacophony chant, daring any to test their mettle.

“Forward the spears! Steady your shield! The swords of Sol never yield! Push on, push on, til the break of dawn! Forward the spears! Steady your shield! The swords of Sol never yield...”

The fifth wave broke against golden shields, battering them by sheer weight of numbers and forcing the shining warriors back a single step.

The line held.

“BrooHA!” the line of warriors cheered in chorus, stepping forward as one to send the scrap armored barbarians reeling back into their fellows. Their spears followed next, piercing leather and hide, tin and steel.

Blood flowed.

Tempest stepped forward, ignoring the call of his retainer. The line parted like a curtain, allowing him to the fore. Spear and shield at the ready, he surveyed the chaotic mess of barbarians rushing to their deaths. Viciously, he smiled.

With half a thought, and less attention, his spear skewered a stallion whose lips had been carved from his face. Blood poured from the stallion’s ruined neck. Even as Lord Tempest’s hoof kicked the corpse from his spear, his eyes were already searching out his next opponent.

He found her, an orange-hued mare with an old iron pipe between her teeth. The blue aura coating his horn began to crackle, pure energy arcing the short distance between white horn and gold tine. She spotted him as well, screaming as she charged.

His spell fired. Thunder shattered the air, everypony, save himself, cringing away from the deafening crack. It took her in the chest, a jagged gash in the very air, and sent her sailing through the air and into a building’s pane glass window to disappear amid the darkness beyond.

The nearby explosion of a slug thrower gave him no warning; lead bullets striking his armored hide and pushing him off balance before he could raise his shield and brace his legs. Lord Tempest’s teeth ground as bullets pounded against his magic held shield. He weathered the barrage, letting the thick metal circle take the punishment for him, waiting for the opening that he knew would come.

Click.

Swinging the shield into another barbarians face—bone and teeth-shattering from the blow—Lord Tempest’s eyes found their prey. His magic flared, and his spear sailed through the air. The tip and half the heft disappeared into the gunner’s barrel.

Lord Tempest didn’t spare her a second glance. Drawing the short blade at his side, he swung it low, taking the still dazed barbarian’s fore knee. The back swing hit the crippled pony’s open mouth, only to become stuck in the bone of his jaw.

He left the blade, another barbarina already on him, swinging at him with a rusted pipe. Lord Tempest leaned right, letting the metal bar pass by before stepping forward and goring the stallion with his blade sheathed horn. Life blood spilled from the wound, running down the Prince’s nose guard to splatter on the ground. Screaming in rage himself, Lord Tempest poured magic from his horn until smoke billowed from his foe’s ears, the stink of burnt meat and fur assaulting his nose.

The barbarian didn’t collapse until he tore his horn from the charred neck.

With a moment’s reprieve, he Gripped the sword handle in his teeth and worked the blade free of the corpse’s jawbone before scanning for another kill only to find none. The sounds of battle had died, the last of the not quite dead barbarians being put down quickly.

“My lord Tempest! We have arrived.”

Lord Tempest’s head snapped to his left. His eyes finding the pony who’d spoken only to quickly follow the outstretched hoof.

The base alone was massive, wider than any of the other buildings still standing nearby. Graffiti and vandalism stained every inch within hoof’s reach, though there were still plenty stretching up to the limits of most unicorns’ magic. The Prince’s eyes drifted up and up and up, only stopping once they met the cloud ceiling.

His first venture into the city had shown him the skill and determination of the ancients; the buildings more than three storeys in height had seemed like little more than illusions until that day. The how was still a question to which he had no answer, but knowing that it was possible was enough for him. This however... this...

He’d seen it in the distance, it was impossible not to, but such sights belied the truth. Until he stood in the Temple’s shadow he had not truly believed his own eyes. Such a thing had been mere fantasy, lies told to foals to keep them entertained. Now he knew the truth... and it was marvelous.

“Eros!” he bellowed, his eyes still firmly attached to the highest reaches of the Temple.

A unicorn stallion identical to all the others, save for his lithe frame, stepped forward. Eros bowed. “Yes, my Lord Tempest?”

“You are to return home and summon my brother. I wish to enter this Temple of the Seraphim, and I think he may desire to join me.”

“Aye, my Lord. I shall make all haste.”

“Hold!” the unicorn stopped, turning back. “Ensure that he brings his own guard, we may have cleared the way, but these barbarians seem to infest this place, crawling out of the shadows like so many roaches.”

“It will be done as you say.” Eros bowed once more and turned. In a flash of green magic he disappeared, only to blink back into existence thirty yards away moving at a gallop. With the second flash he was lost from sight altogether.

Dismissing the now absent pony, Tempest returned his attention to the Temple. His eyes focused intently upon the clouds gathered around its upper heights. It was time to see just how tall this Temple was, he decided.

He closed his eyes as magic began to coalesce around his horn in a light blue aura. A sympathetic glow appeared within the clouds overhead, and he pushed. The insubstantial forms shifted at his whim, spreading away from the Temple to open up the sky.

He could feel the warmth of the unfiltered sun caressing his coat as the hole widened, the increase in light visible through his closed eyes. Eagerly, he gazed up.

The clouds had not changed. No light flooded down from the sky, no warmth touched his coat. Only the darkened, blue-tinged ring of clouds spreading from the tower showed evidence that his spell had worked at all.

Tempest’s smile, the one he’d been wearing since he set out that morning, died. A frown of determination replaced it and his horn ignited once again. His magic flooded the cloud cover, directing it, forcing it, demanding that it obey his will. The clouds responded in kind, rolling away from the Temple like a wave of foam.

It accomplished nothing. As quickly as the clouds fled, they were replaced with more just as thick. His frown became a grimace , and he poured more magic into the ceiling of fluff, a secondary corona flaring over his horn. Rearing up, he braced his forelegs against the Temple’s wall, teeth clenched in frustration.

The concerned voice of Gorgon washed by him unheard, and the other unicorns’ eyes were locked upon the roiling sky.

The clouds only thickened, diving the area into a premature night. Errant flashes of lightning illuminated the clouds as the weight of water built, causing the clouds to sag lower and lower in the sky.

Lord Tempest’s frustrations grew with the darkening sky until he screamed, bellowing and pounding the side of the Temple with his hooves. A third corona flared, and the storm broke. Rain pounded the city, cascading down the magic dome as thunder and lightning raged in time with his beating hooves.

Tempest’s rage only lasted a few minutes before he wore himself out and collapsed from exhaustion.

The storm, however, continued on for half an hour. Torrents of rain washed the blood from the streets as lightning lit the sky and filled the world with thunder. Unease coursed through the ranks of unicorn warriors as they huddled near the center of the dome, crowding around those responsible for maintaining its protective cover. What few barbarians had remained alive fled, abandoning their prey in favor of a safe haven from the storm.

As the storm began to peter out the confidence of the soldiers returned and so too did they return to their duties. Despite the barbarians departure, five were posted at the edge of the shield wall to keep watch for any foalish enough to attempt an assault. With their prince resting and no opponents to occupy their attentions, other activities were quickly found to pass the time.

Breaking into groups, they engaged in a variety of favored pastimes. Two of the largest groups set their weapons aside to compete in one-on-one wrestling matches with golden bits riding on which would come out the winner. Other groups ranged from telling exaggerated tales of exploits over rations to gambling on games of chance.

Lord Tempest spent most of that time resting and regaining his strength. The frustration of failure ate at him. Never before had the clouds denied him so. Was it possible that the Seraphim truly held dominion over the sky, more so even then himself? He did not like the possible implications.

When he finally did regain his hooves he turned his attention to the Temple’s base. There was but one entrance he could find; locked by one of the Ancient’s terminals. The computers were common enough in the Stable, it was the first he’d seen in the city though. That raised questions, but none he cared to ponder.

“My lord Tempest, your brother approaches!”

Looking up, Tempest could just make out the approaching group, distorted as they were by the shield walls. Even so, the taller earth pony standing in the midst of the twenty unicorn guards was clearly visible.

Everypony stood and retrieved their discarded weapons before moving to the edge of the shield. A moment of tension followed as the new arrivals approached. A collective breath was taken, muscles tensing, all eyes focusing on the darkened windows and alleys of the surrounding streets. Two shield spells could not be mixed and one would have to be brought down before the ponies could join under the one that would remain intact. A dangerous proposition when surrounded by towering buildings filled with windows and shadows.

The shield dropped and the twenty one ponies rushed to regain their lost sanctuary.

The moment of danger passed with only the sound of hooves clattering against asphalt.

The apprehension fled, everypony relaxing once again. With nothing else to do the warriors returned to their groups, joined by their newly arrived fellows.

The earth pony alone did not join them. Standing just shorter than Tempest, still taller than any other pony present, a pale ashen coat of fur covered him from nose to dock. His mane as black as pitch. Wrapped as he was in a purple toga, his mark could not be seen. A calm pace brought him to stand before the Lord Tempest. “My brother, foal! Do you seek only to enrage our father further with your disobedience, to say nothing of dragging me to the depths with you.”

Tempest’s grin split his face. “Foal, brother? Your words are blunted by the glory your eyes do miss! Look, gaze up and see, for we stand in the shadow of splendor!”

The earth pony’s expression remained stoic. “Glory and splendor are fleeting things, father’s rage burns long and slow.”

“To the pits with father’s rage! We shall bring back such wonders to dowse his anger til his final breaths. Dispense with your remonstrations, Disapater, you art no less aroused than I, or did you come not but to grouse and depart?”

His control finally flagging, Disapater’s eyes broke contact with his brother’s and traveled up the Temple’s height. A smile found his muzzle. “Tis truly magnificent is it not?”

Smug with victory, Tempest saddle up beside him and draped a foreleg across the other’s withers. “That it is. What treasures it must hold.”

“What little remains within. The barbarians are not ones to leave such a place unmolested.”

“Aye, were they to gain entrance.” Disapater allowed himself to be lead closer to the Temple. “Brainless animals that they are, they gained no such passage. The door is locked and sealed, unbroken by their weak hooves.”

Tempest brought the pair to stand before the Temple’s sole entrance. A great steel door two pony widths across barred access to the interior. Scrapes and dent’s marred its surface as much as the colors from paint and other less pleasant sources, but none had managed to pry it open even the most miniscule of measurements. The computer poking from the wall beside it, though its screen was shattered, hummed with life. Fixed above the entrance, a single red glass lamp sat dead and lifeless.

“Tell me, my beloved brother, have you the skills to gain us admittance, or has the day’s slaughter been for naught but glory?”

Disapater did not respond, stepping forward to examine the computer. Taking the ancient machine in his fore hooves, he studied it. A few moments later he reached a decision. Without looking away he shouted, “Lionheart! My satchel!”

“Aye, my lord Disapater!”

With the assistance of Lionheart, Disapater’s personal guard, the machine was broken down. Metal plates protecting its innards removed, exposing boards, wires, and tiny gems still glowing with faint magicks. More wires were quickly attached between key places within the computer and the Pipbuck attached to the earth pony’s foreleg.

Tempest left them to their work, confident in his brother’s skill. His patience, however, only stretched so far and the hours passed by slowly as the two worked quietly. The sun was halfway past its zenith when Tempest found himself pacing behind them.

“You take too long brother! Were not you the one to claim mastery over these devices?”

Disapater made his reply with the press of a button below the terminal’s screen.

The lamp above the door spun to life as an horn began to blow, red light dowsing the gathered ponies. Air hissed out from the edges of the door.

Tempest grinned, placing a hoof on his brother’s shoulder.

Tempest and Disapater galloped out of the Temple to the sound of blaring alarms. Their warriors quickly followed suit, forming a protective circle around the young princes.

“Thou art a blithering nitwit!”

“How was I to know it would react so?”

“I told thee not to touch anything, but noooo, don’t listen to the pony who knows what he is talking about!”

The first explosion urged the already galloping herd to pick up their pace. The second shook the ground under their hooves. Screaming metal brought them to a skidding halt, everypony turning to face the Temple.

The tower canted to the side, metal bending and breaking as metric tons of steel shifted. Fire blossomed from its side as another explosion shattered what windows had survived the last two hundred years.

It was too late to run. The first four storeys gave out completely, dropping the tower thirty feet straight down. Metal screamed as it was subjected to forces it couldn’t hope to withstand, twisting and bending as it failed. The long shadow shrank. Another explosion halfway up the Temple rained debris down upon the scrambling ponies.

Magic shields flickered into existence around the able unicorns, deflecting much of the falling shrapnel.

The top of the tower fell first, ripping away from the base. Like a javelin, the pointed spire hit the ground. Shockwaves tore the street apart and sent broken down carriages flying into buildings whose foundations were already giving way. A cloud of dirt, mortar, and grit filled the air, rolling through the city like a tidal wave.

The screams of pain were lost amid the chaos of destruction.

Author's Notes:

Written a long time ago, slightly cleaned up, this was part of the back story to Wellsprings, we'll see if I finish it, no promises.