We kept walking until dark, which was about six hours. I was in a substantially better mood for this because I didn't have to walk, and I had a big ball of fur to nap on. I had to keep Snowy from gnawing on Comet every now and then. Then there was that hour or so when they decided Stars needed the rest more than I did and made me walk, but we weren't being force-marched, so it was more bearable. They figured we were far away enough from Showffield to stop and rest. They took Comet and told me to go play with Snowy or something. I guessed they were going to bury him and didn't want me around making jokes. I was fine with this because one, Snowy is a big adorable retarded pile of fluff, and two, nobody laughs at my jokes at funerals, which is really frustrating.

We found another picnic site to stop at and camped under the rain shelter. I would have said something about them making a fire under a wooden shelter, but compared with where we just came from, it was like using water wings in a kiddie pool. Snowy was out like a light. I curled up to sleep on his back. House recommended using our RadAway now. It was only then that I found out it was intravenous, and was like fuck that and drank it. I was thirsty anyway. It actually tasted pleasantly of oranges. Based on how the bag was designed, I had to wonder whether it was actually a drip, or a sachet you punch a hole into to drink.

Stars stared into the fire blankly.

I slumped. "Oh, bugger."

After a second of silence, House indulged me. "What?"

"I just realised. I nicked one of those whips and forgot to use it."

"You say this like it's a bad thing."

"It is! Those things looked fun, and now that we're going home I'll probably forget that I even have it and just let it languish at the bottom of my bag until I forget it's there."

"What a shame." Sarcasm detectors blown, captain. There was another minute of quiet and Stars gazing into the fire. Comet was more lively than she was about now.

"Oh yeah, what was with the horn?"

House stoked the fire and paused. "Alright. I reckon I've been through enough with y'all..." Did he seriously just say 'y'all'? "... to let you in on it." He paused again. I swear, if you figured out a way to cut out the pauses in the dialogue, this story would be a third shorter. "You know how it is in the wasteland. The strong take what they want, and the weak get out their way or get crushed. S'just the way it is. But then, y'get something that changes the game. Just what it was is long story - and I mean a really long story - but something happened in Equestria that made some ponies start trying to change things. Different ponies had different ideas. Some looked into science. Some went around dishing out aid. And a few of us... we take out the trash." He held up Charlie's horn. "One mean bastard at a time."

"A secret society of vigilantes called the Garbagemen. I like it."

"Uhm... no, we're called the Regulators..."

"Eh. 'Regulators' sounds kinda bland and generic. 'Garbagemen' has a bit more flavour to it." House rolled his eyes and stoked the fire again. Nothing happened for a few minutes.

"He... he told me to forgive them." Stars sniffed. "And I didn't. I killed them all. Even the sla-"

"Actually that reminds me of something else that's bugging me about that, the whole thing with the ponies trapped in the burning metal, am I the only one who thinks that was more than a little bit unlikely? I mean, unless there was liquid nitrogen involved, or this was counterfeit 'steel' that was actually just tin, the temperatures involved should have just incinerated them in a flash. I mean, the resultant image of screaming, half-melted ponies being fried alive is pretty metal (pun definitely not intended), but-" I was interrupted by House landing an uppercut on my chin, and I was out like a light.

I woke up the next morning with a headache and my teeth hurting. We were already on the road - I was still riding Snowy's back. I pretended to still be asleep, otherwise they'd probably make me walk or something. I gathered from the conversation that Stars had tried to kill herself in the night. That would be a shame, because I think at that point she had a higher kill count than me. 'Only using violence when forced', my arse.

We'd reached the Manechester side of the Preak District in the night. Somewhere along the line Stars had stopped to clean up. The suicide attempt made a bit more sense considering that. Sleeping with the blood of your enemies caked in your fur is... actually now that I think about it, that's pretty metal too. When this is all over I'm going to start a band. We turn up to gigs in stolen raider armour and play fourteen minute epics about fields of burning monsters being slaughtered by rain made of depleted star metal and ancient knights running steel mills. We just need a name. Thoroughbred D? No, that's dumb. How about... Black Shoggoth! Maybe too obscure a reference.

"Atom!"

"Judas Prix!" I shouted upon being returned to reality.

"Atom, get the radio. We're going to try it again."

"You can move stuff with your mind, why did you need to wake me up?"

"I thought it would be rude to go through your bag."

I exaggerated my fatigue with a yawn and an eye-rub. "Could say the same about waking me up." Stars shook her head, and decided not to press me further. I was disappointed. I sat up and pulled out the radio. Static made me wince as I adjusted the tuning and the volume. I found the Enclave signal first. Out of curiosity I held on for part of the Queen's speech.

"... those who would seek to keep our fair land mired in violence and chaos. Do not be fooled; the Steel Rangers' claim to continuity with the institutions of the past is a mere pretension. We would ask that subjects of the crown renounce these false pretenders and their perverse revision of history, and place their faith in the Enclave! We are the seed from which our nation will grow to greatness once again, and on to new heights of grandeur and majesty! We shall..."

"Turn that crap off before I break it."

"Gladly. Funny they should mention 'majesty', I don't think the news has gotten through to Buckingham yet." I twisted the dial until something else came through. Even then, it was still pretty grainy. Judging by the bouncy beat and the exuberant brass, it couldn't be anything other than Radio Free Mareseyside. I left it on.

A minute later, the song came to an end. I didn't turn it up to hear Tribute - she turned herself up. "Woah-ho-ho, there, cats and kittens! Put your seatbelts on, stow those tray tables and make sure all legs and wings are inside the vehicle because it's time for some RFM news!" She made noises with her mouth that may have been meant to sound like a high-energy news theme. It came off more like an infant babbling. "Man, do I have a tall tale and a half for you this morning! Now. Few and far between is the colt or filly who hasn't heard a scary bedtime story about Showffield. The burning pit of despair! The great black hole of the north! Hell, after the Majesty went up, I could see the smoke from my window. Well, my lovelies, I have good word that the industry of Showffield has ground to a screeching halt! I still wouldn't recommend going there, but if you do, all you're gonna find is an extremely toxic hole in the ground. One less thing to worry about in this big bad wasteland! Unless you're a slaver, in which case, the market just turned against you. Suckers!"

"Oh, but it gets better! The smoke stopped rising yesterday evening, and guess who was seen heading through the Preak District the day before. None other than the Saint from the Stable! Girl, that is one hell of a hat trick! I... I don't want to say anything in case I jinx it. But if you're ever down here in Liverpole, come on down and I'll buy you a drink or three! This is Tribute and you're listening to 91.1, Radio Free Mareseyside! Stay dry and stay listening, folks." The title theme to a movie long since forgotten started up.

Stars frowned. "Sun and moon. I think Tribute might actually be more aggravating to listen to than the Queen."

"I know right? It's like she's swallowed a megaphone..."

She turned and glared at me. "I mean the hero worship. It's just... argh!"

"I dunno. I don't really have a problem with it."

"'Course," House spat.

"Say, why don't we head to Liverpole so I can get those drinks?"

"You want to go through forty miles of raider-infested wasteland for a couple of lukewarm beers?"

I shrugged. "I'm still not paying for them."

Stars screwed up her face a couple of times trying to find some logical recourse. Then she just sighed and got back to walking. "Whatever. Warreington's that way anyway. If we go via Stockport we shouldn't get too much trouble."

"What I want to know is, how are they getting this news so fast?" House said.

"That's a really good question..."

I cut off this line of inquiry that I didn't care about with other news. "Oh! I got more batteries for the radio, by the way." They shrugged and nodded. I wouldn't complain about that either.

The journey continued quietly. Nobody felt like talking over the radio. Tribute delivered a PSA about keeping dry to avoid radiation poisoning, but otherwise kept her trap shut. For the first time, we saw another traveller heading the other way. It hadn't surprised me that the Preak District was devoid of hikers - it was a miserable, soggy pile of hills with nothing interesting in it - but even wandering around Manechester, apart from that one Steel Rangers patrol, there was nobody wandering around apart from raiders. He reminded me of that Enclave guy in Colton - the giant sunglasses, trilby, and neat suit that just screams "I am incognito". Who honestly wears sunglasses in Braytain? Apart from me, of course. Even then, these things are useless at blocking glare and just obscure my vision. They ended up on my forehead whenever I was doing anything important.

So this guy carries on up to us. He stopped next us and folded up his sunglasses. We stopped, because he was addressing us. "Ghrian agus gealach leat!" He put a hoof across his front in some kind of salute. He ignored House and Stars, and looked straight up at me. "I bring a message for the one known as Atom Smasher, of the Stable!" He had another funny accent that I couldn't place. It was much more endearing and homely than House's, and his words had force behind them, like each one was being punched out of his mouth. I was already considering trading one Hat Accent for another.

I raised a hoof. "How many times did it take you to find the right stable pony?"

He ignored my quip, removed his hat, and bowed his head. "My lady, the High King of the Scolts, Bravehorse has requested an audience with you." Stars pulled a face like she'd just eaten a bug. "He wishes to meet you at his field camp, not four miles north of here, near a reservoir. I would suggest that you respond to his invitation promptly."

I scratched my chin while I thought about the offer, and a few other things. "And who are you?"

"I am Siretanta, the Hound of Bravehorse!" Snowy perked his ears at the mention of 'hound', and leaned in to sniff him. He was completely unfazed.

"Now, I'm no mythology expert, but I didn't think Siretanta was Scoltish..." Stars yanked me from my perch atop Snowy's neck to whisper to me.

"Atom, I've heard of these guys. Bravehorse's horde pretend to be barbarians from ancient history and go around pillaging settlements! They're really, really bad news!"

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"What's the worst that could happen? What's the worst that could happen, Atom?"

Before Stars could finish that, I shoved her away and reclaimed my perch. "Sure, why not. I haven't got anything planned."

Stars grabbed me again. "Going through four raider tribes for the sake of a couple of free drinks is a better idea than this!"

I pulled House over. "What do you think Hatman?"

He frowned. He could probably tell from the respective expressions who wanted to do what. His eyes darted back and forth between Stars and I for a few moments. Eventually he backed up. "I'm staying out of this." How diplomatic.

I sighed and climbed back up. "What do you think, Snowy? Shall we see what the suit-hound-guy wants us to see?"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah!" He nodded with his tongue flopping all over the place.

"See? Two out of four majority."

"That's not a majority."

"Plurality."

"Ugh! I am so done."

Before Stars could storm off, I grabbed her by the back of the cloak. "Look at it this way: they're inviting us into their camp. You're not in uniform. They know nothing. Do you know how open that leaves them?"

"You're insane."

"Sanity's boring."

She huffed and paused. "Alright. I'll humour you. But the second it goes tits up, I am out of there, understand?"

I nodded, and turned back to Siretanta. "Alright Singapore, lead on!" I think it took him a moment to realise that I was in fact addressing him. Then he nodded, stuffed his hair back into his hat, and started down the way we were heading anyway. I turned the radio down in case Tribute learned about this by whatever telepathy she seemed to be using.

Two miles down the road, we turned on to a dirt track. Once we left the road, Snowy started sniffing everything and peeing on trees, and I couldn't hold on, so I had to walk, which sucked. The track led around the side of a hill. A chain of reservoirs ran along the valley. The first two were filled in with soil, and the only indication that they ever held water was the concrete rim around them and the dams between them. The upper two still had water, and I could smell them from here. What is it with the wasteland and smelling absolutely putrid all the time? If it's not rotting carcasses in the rain, it's effluent-filled bodies of stagnant water or industrial toxins. Maybe everyone else up here just has a dead nose.

"So tell me a bit more about you guys," I said, to break up the silent trudge. "Where did you come from? This is the first I've heard of you."

"We were once mere bickering tribes, barely surviving in the glens and moors to the north. We were no different from the degenerates that roam these counties. But then, through force of will, of presence, and of iron, Bravehorse of Stirrupling united the clans under his banner. It was not hard. Even their feeble minds could comprehend the choice he gave them; be behind his spears, or on them. His court is decorated with the skulls of the thirty-nine chieftains he has seen the end of."

"This guy doesn't fuck around."

"With the Scolts united, we marched south, to our a greater goal. To unite the Braytish tribes against the Roamans, and free this land!"

"Roamans?"

"The imperious conquerors from the southern skies. You have already displayed your proficiency in dealing with them, and this is what has attracted the attention of Bravehorse. He will certainly discuss this with you in more detail." Destroying things seems to land me with a lot of employment opportunities. I made a note to destroy more things later.

The path passed by a group of ponies slathered with face paint and wearing kilts, clutching bows and spears. The bows had tabs for holding them, but I wasn't altogether sure how they were going to load it. A sheer cliff was cut into the hill next to them. The scree was made up primarily of bones, and a few twisted bodies in various states of decay sat on top of the rubble. The path carried on down the side of the valley to a camp by the reservoir. The posts of sentries dotted the hilltops. Stars was looking around like a meerkat. House regarded the party-ready guards with a suspicious eye. I didn't feel threatened, I just grumbled when the radio lost signal halfway down the valley. I turned it off and stashed it.

The camp was all tarpaulins and big open tents. A few things looked like they were plundered from pre-war or wartime military bases, but there didn't seem to be much in the way of guns, or even armour. Lots of ponies with competitively intricate patterns of paint on their faces and bodies were milling around, sharpening swords and chucking spears and punching dummies and stuff. In a way it was even more metal than the raiders. Maybe my band should have someone who just goes on stage painted up like one of these guys...

I nearly walked into a tent pole. Siretanta held open a flap and ushered us inside. I hopped on Snowy's back before going in. A guard tried to stop me. "The mutt stays amach."

"Do you let Sir-Fanta in here?"

"Well, I..."

"He's the Hound of Bravehorse. Snowy here is the hound of... me."

"Uh..." The guard looked around Snowy's big fluffy ass at Siretanta. He nodded. "Very well then." Snowy practically had to crawl to fit inside. I bumped my head on another tent pole on the way in.

Thankfully, the inside of the tent was taller. Torches and lanterns bathed it in soft, warm light, a couple of bodyguards stood to attention around the tent, and two chairs sat in the middle of the back wall. A stallion sprawled back in one, his mane easily touching the floor. My eyes paused on the metal gauntlet on his foreleg. A PipBuck? Curious. In the other chair, a unicorn mare with an animal skull necklace and headband sat, looking constipated.

I waited for Snowy to come to a stop, then tapped him on the top of the head. When he looked around, I pointed down. He lowered his head. With forelegs crossed, I kept my balance while sliding forward. I slid off his head to land on hind legs, and then dropped to my forelegs, a few feet away from them. I lifted my shades. "'Sup."

"Aha!" The stallion exploded in a grin. His words seemed to explode out of him too. "You must be the one called Atom Smasher."

"Accept no substitutes."

He laughed. His accent didn't quite match the other Scolts. "Your reputation precedes you. I am Bravehorse, High King of the Scolts, liberator of the north, and this..." He gestured to the mare, who flashed us a smile. Well, more of a grimace, before going back to being bemused. "Is my wife and queen, Boudocka." At this point I realised that historical accuracy was not something they were even trying for. This also led me to a suspicion about the origins of 'Bravehorse' here. I kept it to myself for now.

"Alright, you have me. I'm all ears, kingy."

Boudocka snarled. "You will show your High King the respect he deserves!"

Bravehorse raised a hoof and smiled at her. "Please, dear, she is our guest, and practically a child."

"Hey!" Nineteen isn't child age anywhere! Except pre-war Equestria I guess, I've heard you couldn't drink until twenty one there.

Boudocka huffed, and sat back. Bravehorse resumed grinning. "I'm impressed by the tales I've heard of your exploits. In just a few short days you've caused chaos among the Roamans that almost rivals what I have achieved in a lifetime. You remind me of myself in some ways." A stable dweller, perhaps? "Unfettered. Resourceful. Full of energy. I used mine to unite the clans. Today I am wiser, but older. But you... you could be just what I need. I don't normally bargain with ponies I'm about to conquer without a spear in my hoof. But for someone of your excellence, I am willing to make an exception."

I shifted my weight to one side and furrowed my brow. "Those are the broad strokes, but I'm gonna need more specifics. I like to know the plan." Even I had to keep myself from laughing at that one. I could hear Stars' gulp from where I was.

"Business-like! I like it. Can't have some deadbeat fucking around on the job." He reached over to a goblet on a table beside him, took a long drag, wiped his mouth, and resumed his slouch. "If we weren't at war, I'd have you fight Siretanta for his job. However, we need all the strength we can muster. I need a pony to run errands around Manechester and Liverpole. Soften the place up for the rest of the army. Taking care of the Majesty was a good start, but I wouldn't underestimate the other locals."

"They haven't given me much trouble so far."

He raised a hoof and shouted, "That's what I want you for!" Hot damn, he was excited about this. "If you can put the squabbling tribes into disarray, then you can have the honour of leading my army into battle to conquer Manechester and Liverpole. And if you impress me with that - which I have no doubt you will - then you shall be bestowed with the mantle of the first Thane of Flankashire."

I pouted and nodded. "Not bad. Tell me more about the job."

"The tribes here are battle-hardened. They regularly weed out their weak. Pitting them against each other would do little to wear them down. But if you hit them one at a time, you should be able to temporarily cripple them, and give us a window of opportunity. Then there's the Steel Rangers..."

Stars squeaked. Everyone turned around to look at her. She started sweating, and took a step back. Bravehorse scratched his chin. "What's her problem?"

"We had some RadAway earlier, maybe she needs to pee, I don't-"

Zap. Where there had been just canvas behind the two thrones, there was now a smoking hole. Bravehorse and Boudocka were clutching their chairs in alarm. I heard a sword being drawn. I looked back at Stars. Her horn had a wisp of smoke rising from it.

I rolled my eyes, pulled out my gun and pumped it. "Well, it was a good run, eh?"

Level up! I still have yet to see if these do anything at all New perk: Living Folk Hero

Your reputation precedes you. Depending on your karma, certain NPCs will give you free stuff.