War. War never changes. The magical land of Equestria once existed in peace and harmony. Equestrian civilization was finally beginning to realize its potential, leaps in magic and science propelling pony society forward. The neighbouring nations were also going through this period of change. New ideas and philosophies were born and it seemed the era of peace and prosperity would only continue to grow. Then the war happened. A series of tragic events led to a conflict that would engulf the land of Equestria and their Zebra neighbours.

Despite continued attempts at peace, the war continued to escalate. The conflict became more and more terrifying as new weapons and technologies were designed, and tactics evolved to use them. The great war finally ended when Balefire Megaspells rained down across the world, leaving behind a husk of what was once a thriving planet.

The survivors of the war emerged to find a ruined and dangerous land waiting for them. Of these survivors, the Steel Rangers were some of the best equipped to face the new hazards of Equestria. With power armor on their backs and some of the greatest minds and technologies left from the war, the Steel Rangers set off on their mission to save Equestria's last remaining technological and scientific progress.

Being a Unicorn sucks. What do I mean by that? Well the telekinesis is great and knowing how to fix stuff makes you useful but that's just it. I'm useful, nothing more. You see, the bright spark our order is dedicated to, didn't think to make a suit of power armor for a unicorn. Somepony thought far enough to create winged power armor for those Enclave cocknoodles, but a horned helmet? Oh no, that's risky territory right there.

So I get relegated to fixing and repairing machines. When I'm not balancing the books. Yes, balancing the books, I'm the external treasurer and at best glorified mechanic. Excuse me if I don't jump for joy at having twice the amount of work as a regular Unicorn, for half the respect. Oh that's right, you don't know why I'm griping. Allow me to elaborate...

When you're a steel Ranger you have two potential paths, you either work as a Scribe and help maintain the technology and knowledge we've managed to save, or you're one of those power armored show-offs that go out into the field, guns blazing, proving what a badass you are. I am not one of those badasses. I'm not even a scribe, chartering our next course of action or discovering how to create a more efficient magical gatling laser.

I'm the lowly tech-head initiate who fixes the power armor or salvages what's left of it. I'm also the pony who has to write up the trade agreements with the local tribals and get them to scavenge for us. I'm the pony that has to convince the tribals who prop up and worship a suit of power armor that it's just a piece of technology and they'd be better off with this stack of assault rifles than a weather worn piece of advanced power armor.

My point is, I'm simply a useful part of the group. I fill a niche but can't even get a fully functional suit of power armor. Hell I got reprimanded for stealing a helmet and cutting a hole in it for my horn. Okay, so I ruined the helmet. But it's not my fault the ministry of wartime tech or the ministry of image didn't make a helmet for Unicorns! I'd say they were prejudiced except the ministries were run by Ponies from each group.

But enough moping, I suppose I should be grateful. I could've grown up as a raider or a tribal. I could have been part of some warband, and worst case scenario I could have been a slave. There are loads of situations worse than my own, and I know, because I've seen some of them. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. There are all kinds of messed up things that could happen to me. Like creepy cults, which if you think about it, the Rangers are a bit like that. You know, with all those oaths and stuff.

Let me give you all some examples.

We swear to protect Equestria and all her technological achievements.

We swear to protect our brothers and sisters.

We swear to protect ponykind.

We put our faith in our brothers and sisters, we trust them to protect us, just as we will protect them.

As you can gather, most of the oaths are more along lines of getting us to trust and rely on one another, making us a stronger group. In theory anyway. My father once told me that the oaths were what defined us, and without them we’d pretty much just be more intelligent bandits.

Speaking of my father, I often wondered to myself if my father had some premonition when he named me. My name is Inkwell and in case you're wondering what I meant by premonition, here's a hint. I have a quill on my flank, a picture of a quill dipping into an ink pot. Surrounding the ink pot is a small stack of bits and on the other a stack of bottle caps. It's hardly the most inspiring of Cutie marks, certainly nothing to write home about anyway, but it’s mine so I’m gonna keep it.

My quarters rocked and swayed uncomfortably against the neighbouring rooms as the wind roared outside. The metal walls hummed as they rattled against the rest of the compartments that made up the transport. The clamped on section of the ship I was riding in had not been attached as tightly, otherwise it wouldn’t be rattling and vibrating so badly.

I was sitting down in a rather comfortable position as I went over the reports I had been given before we left. My first priority would be to discover the economic climate of Wintertrot, mainly from reports I'd be forced to read through. I couldn't simply go out and do it by hoof because the Steel Rangers didn't want to waste a “valuable asset” like myself.

Figures that a ship full of Tech-heads would need somepony to be the bean counter and work out deals with the local populations. Otherwise we'd be scrounging for ammo as we tried to wrestle the tech from their dead hooves. It's a grim prospect, but one that I'm happy to say I prevent a lot of the time.

I looked up from my pile of paperwork and stared at the walls of my rattling quarters, bored out of my mind. Maybe today is the day I don a suit of power armor. Then I'll go room to room, deck to deck and personally kick each of those inconsiderate pricks right in the-

My brief fantasy was ruined, however, by a sudden announcement from the ship wide intercom. "Scribes and Rangers, ETA to Wintertrot is approximately one hour and fifteen minutes. Please prepare for landing. We'll be experiencing severe turbulence on our arrival."

"Funny how they never think to mention the initiates. What am I, mouldy hay or something?" I spoke aloud to myself. Not because, as some might think, I'm an egotistical narcissist. No, I just like the sound of my own voice sometimes.

I got up from my chair and reluctantly made my way to the outer corridor. The passageway branched out into multiple corridors, leading to other parts of the ship. I began navigating the halls, taking the quickest route to the center of the ship. The central chamber of the airship had numerous chairs that we had to buckle into before landing. Something about the stress of entering lower altitudes from higher ones. Somepony had told me why, but aerodynamics wasn't one of my strong points.

I stood in line ready to take my seat, when I was knocked out of line. I got back up, growling in frustration when I turned to see that Jack Knife had taken my spot. The mare turned back to me, blowing me a mocking kiss, before turning and talking to one of her friends.

Sighing, I moved to the back of the line. Nopony was willing to sidle over and let me slip back into line. After waiting in line again, I was ready to take my seat, when I suddenly realized my tags were missing.

For those of you unfamiliar with Steel Ranger practices, here’s a quick rundown on why tags are important. A tag is a small chip that is inserted into a terminal or maneframe so information can be read or encoded on to it. The tag’s purpose was to detail a Ranger's career and their outstanding accomplishments. Everything is recorded, such as the number of kills you make, the technology you recovered, technology you restored or destroyed. Even the shape of your Cutie mark is recorded on the damn things.

I groaned in frustration. I would have to trudge back to my quarters and retrieve the damn things. That or I would risk a reprimand and a loss of more of my scant, free time.

I turned around and left, making my way back through the airship at a jog. The corridors were now deserted, much to my relief. The last thing I wanted was to run into one of my commanding officers or worse, a star paladin. They got really strict about things like tags. I re-entered my quarters a minute later and found them hanging on a steel chain, loosely draped over a small peg above my bed. I levitated the small tags over to me, sighing as I thought of the very few annotations downloaded onto the nigh indestructible chip. I hung the chain around my neck and tucked it beneath my overalls.

The cold metal chip hung limply against my chest. Nodding to myself, I turned and prepared to leave the room. I barely took two steps when I was thrown into the air. My head met the cold metal ceiling of the small room with a solid thump. Instantly my ears were ringing and popping, and I felt light hoofed. My hooves touched the floor gently. I was barely brushing the metal floor as I felt the ship beginning to fall.

I struggled and flailed about whilst trying to reach the door. Moving ever so slowly, I managed to pull myself over to it. The hatch, much to my horror, refused to move. It must have been automatically sealed by the airship’s on board systems. It didn't exactly matter to me now, the airship was crashing and I was partially floating/freefalling as the ship began to angle more into a nosedive. I scanned the room desperately, looking for something I could use to protect myself.

My eyes fell on the storage locker. I mainly used it for storing spare overalls and parts. The storage unit was bolted to the wall by blessedly thick rivets, keeping it in place. I floated over to the locker, struggling against the increasing vertigo. I could feel my hide vibrating as the ship around me continued to plummet. Small explosions began erupting around the ship, and I heard the nearest engine start screaming in what could only end in catastrophic failure. I could smell faint signs of smoke from fires, and feel the heat that was being generated as we plummeted.

A sharp jolt made it clear the structure of the vessel was compromised. Grabbing my bed sheets and a syringe of Med-X from my stash of meds hidden beneath the mattress, I injected myself with practised ease and let the numbing sensation flow through my hooves. I then flung myself into the locker and covered myself in overalls, bedclothes, and the sheets. The soft cloth would hopefully act as padding for me. I reach out with my magic, keeping the door to my locker closed. I forced the locking mechanism to click into place and waited.

I don't know how long we fell for, but I felt the ship eventually take a full nose dive. My flimsy protection and my body were pressed against the back of the locker. I wrapped the sheets and clothing more around my body, creating a tight cocoon to protect me. The last thing I did was scream.

Scream and hope Jack Knife didn't make it.

I never said I wasn’t petty, and she had almost certainly managed to screw me over.

Comes with being a pencil pusher I guess.

I awoke to a dull thumping headache, centered in my horn. My chest flared in sudden agony as I tried to move. I surmised that I must have broken a couple of ribs. Groaning in pain, I attempted to loosen the cocoon of fabric I had encased myself in. My horn/headache was discouraging me from using magic to dig my way out, but my ribs were definitely giving me problems whenever I tried to move. Trying to find a balance between the two was hard to do, so I managed as best I could. After a bit of digging, I was able to locate the inside mechanism for the door. Sheets and clothes rained down after me as I fell straight out of the locker and onto my room wall.

I let out a sharp hiss as my chest exploded in extreme pain as I landed awkwardly on my bed. I dearly hoped the medical deck hadn't been shorn off during the crash as I clawed my way out onto the deck outside of my room.

Instead of the metallic flooring or a large burning wreck, I was met only by the howling winds of the Equestrian wastelands. The drab grey and brown colors of the wasteland greeted me. A solitary tree stood alone, black and burnt whilst surrounded by pieces of broken metal. Pieces of the airship’s hull jutted out of the ground or were crushed and twisted into new and interesting shapes by their impact. In the distance I could see a bizarre white substance coating distant hills and roads.

I had somehow miraculously survived the section I was in being severed from the main body of the airship, and then survived said section’s ‘emergency landing’ upon the ground. I ducked back inside my room after realizing I was completely isolated and help probably wasn’t coming anytime soon.

I walked over to my bed and found my small hoard of medicine mostly intact. What healing potions I had, had been shattered. It was probably a good thing too, as I would have chugged them down then and there without thinking about getting my bones set first. Instead, I extracted another syringe of painkiller and stabbed it into my body. With a rush of relief, I could feel the soft and comforting coolness of Med-X once again flooding my system.

I stuffed a roll of healing bandages into my robe’s inner pocket and an unlabeled vial I was keeping for a special occasion. I patted my clothing gently, adjusting their contents and slowly went back to the locker. A small jolt of fear running through me as I sifted through the assorted clothes and blankets. My hooves finally found what I sought, I threw the bundle of cloth aside and pulled out a small leather knife sheath. I had lost the knife a long time ago, but I still held onto the sheath. I had hoped to replace the knife someday, but it kept slipping my mind.

With the small sheath stashed inside my robes, I trotted out into the wasteland with two goals in mind.

First, I needed to hook up with whatever remained of my contingent. Second, see if our fighting force was so crippled that they'd finally let me wear power armor and make me a helmet for my horn.

I had doubts about my second goal but a stallion can dream right? I set off into the wastes, following a trail of metal and plastic debris. The faint smoke clouds in the distance was my first objective.

Footnote

Level up
Name: Inkwell
S.P.E.C.I.A.L
Strength - 5
Perception - 2
Endurance - 5
Charisma - 5
Intelligence - 7
Agility - 6
Luck - 7

Trait Revealed - Misfit You can be very socially awkward and have a harder time making friends or realizing that you have them.

Perk Added - Survival Expert (Level 1: Junior Survival Expert) You recognize a dangerous situation when you see one, and you're quick wits can get you out of trouble. +2% to all your resistance stats.

Author's Notes:

I really enjoy the Fallout Equestria universe and hope my story can be a nice little addition to the universe.

(editor’s notes: the Gryphster Editor is bringing down a rain o’ PAIN on these errors up in this beyatch~! @ v@)