Let me say right now, I wasn't scared. I was beyond scared, to the point where I could no longer think. My horn flared up instinctively, illuminating the darkened room with a burst of grey light.

"Grah! Stupid pony... LIGHT!" The heavy and strained voice of my uninvited guest cried out whilst I pulled myself onto my hooves. I didn't need my helmet’s EFS to know this creature was hostile. I went to ready my grenade machinegun, only to remember that I wasn’t wearing any power armor. And worse, my grenade machinegun was a chewed and blown up pile of slag, likely buried under an inch of snow by now.

The angry super-pony had finally adjusted to the sudden burst of light and proceeded to enter the back room. I backpedaled quickly, glancing around the room in panic, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. Unfortunately, the back room seemed to lack any implements of war, not even a filthy knife.

“Oh BUCK!” I screamed in a totally non-filly fashion as a hoof like a brick cuffed my left ear and went into the plaster wall behind me. I scrambled to my hooves and ran across the other side of the room as the massive pony heaved his hoof out of the wall, leaving a large hole.

“STAND STILL AND DIE!” Yeah, like that was going to happen. I bolted over to my power armor, opening up the steel saddlebag. The ground trembled as the mutant pony made to charge me, I yanked the assault rifle and leapt out of the way as meat and bone met magic power armor.

Power armor won, the mutant pony staggering back with a bleeding skull. I grinned as I levitated the rifle and fired.

*Click... click, click,click*

“OH COME ON!” The assault rifle was empty, no-better than a steel baton. The assault rifle swung through the air and smacked my would be assailant. I didn’t let up, focusing on beating the massive pony with my improvised club. The stallion angrily snapped his teeth and swung his heavy hooves at the rusty gun as I skirted around the aggravated pony and once again over to my power armor. All I needed was a weapon, any weapon with ammunition! I started rummaging around inside my saddlebag.

*CRUNCH*

The sound of crushed metal greeted my ears, I turned around expecting the rifle to be stomped underhoof. Instead the angry giant had unslung a sledgehammer he was lugging around on his back and smashed the rifle into the ground.

“T’M TER DER!” Never was such a muffled sentence so terrifying. The massive sledgehammer swung back as the heavy pony charged at me, preparing the haymaker of all hammer blows. I did the only thing I could, which in no way involved screaming like a filly as I practically threw myself into a sideways roll. I howled in pain, feeling the hammer blow graze my ribs and tried to drag myself away from the mutant pony.

*CRACK-THOOM, CRACK-THOOM*

A deafening gun report made my ears ring, before the very heavy and meaty corpse of the super mutant slumped forward, landing on top of me.

"Ah Elder, good to see you're still alive." Crosshair walked in speaking around a sawn-off shotgun he had in his mouth. He placed the shotgun in a small sack he was carrying on his side, before moving over to help me.

"Elder Inkwell, meet the Super Stallions." Crosshair tapped the dead Super Stallion on the back. "Come on now Super Stallion, introduce yourself to my Elder." Crosshair glanced up at me and sighed.

"Sorry for leaving you alone Elder Inkwell. I heard them come in, and got up to deal with them." Crosshair trotted over to my sleeping place and picked up my helmet. "This one must have slipped past me." He gestured to the beheaded mutant and then waved a hoof to the door.

“Can’t... breath. Heavy...corpse..crush-sh-sh...” Crosshair standing on his rear legs, used his front legs to slowly lift the heavy body off of me. I took a deep and grateful breath, wincing as my ribs reminded me they were in pain.

“We cannot delay treatment any longer Elder. Your ribcage looks distressingly out of place and you’re covered in cuts and bruises.” Before I could respond, Crosshair began clearing a patch of floor, my mattress having been caked in blood and brain matter.

Whilst Crosshair busied himself, I decided to root through the super stallion’s corpse for anything that might prove useful. He had been wearing some rough leather armor, full of bullet holes and a metal dish of some kind had been bent and warped beyond recognition, shaped into a single shoulder pad. Searching the armor for pockets proved fruitless, earning nothing but a damp and bloody hoof for my trouble.

I tried opening a saddlebag? cage? on the beast’s back, resembling a shopping trolley that had been compacted into much smaller dimensions through sheer muscle power. I tried prying open the steel backpack, a very small piece of metal evidently meant to act as a lock, resisted my initial efforts. The lock finally started to give as I twisted the firm metal in my telekinetic grip, when Crosshair started poking me.

“You blind fool, are you so strung out you can’t see how misshapen your chest is? Lie down now, before I have to make you!”

I wasn’t about to take this crap from my own First Knight. I did my best to imitate the glare my old drill instructor gave me and opened my mouth. “I’ll have you knooooo~” And that was as far as I got. My head spun as I fell face first onto the cold floor.

====================================================================

I awoke to a wet meaty crack, and an intense pain the likes of which I’d never experienced in my chest. Cold bands held my legs splayed wide as my struggles began. Sinister zebra laughter echoed in the dark dank room and I’ll admit with shame I peed myself.

A deep chanting began as flames danced on the edge of my vision, illuminating a hideous torture room. When I tried to focus on any one thing, my vision blurred and warped, making the shadows seem to distend and flex in unnaturally life-like ways. The screams of the damned seemed to emanate from empty cages hanging from the roof and standing on tall thin spires.

I felt it more than heard the blade as it danced along the walls, just barely eluding my sight. A terrible longsword, shaped like a scalpel, generated sparks as it was scraped along the walls, the tip of the blade glowed red as if fresh from the forge. “Ah Elder, good to see you’re awake. And here I was worried I had hit you too hard...” The gleeful and all too familiar voice whispered right next to my ear, making me flinch.

“C-C-Crosshair... what... what the hell are you doing?” I stammered, my eyes bugging out as Crosshair rose up so he could face me. His eyes were solid globes of orange light that left glowing contrails as he moved. His coat, normally pure white and black was dyed rust red by the layers of dried blood that soaked him.

His terrible visage slowly swam out of focus for a moment, to be replaced by his normal self. A look of concentration and concern flickered on his face before returning to a smile that literally reached ear to ear. The scalpel sword spun on the tip of his left hoof before slowly coming to a stop, the blade’s tip pointing directly at me. The knife moved over my chest, the heat from the blade, black blackening my coat without even touching it.

Looking down as it came ever closer, I could see that he had already split me open like some lab experiment gone horrendously wrong. As the infernal blade reached ever closer to my ribcage, an intense feeling of vileness washed over me. And then my organs began to squirm. Flexing and slithering away, they tried to avoid the torture implement with seemingly sentient fear.

“Keep your eyes open, my humble Elder. Your insides tell of death and decay. Watch them as they tear and sunder, then turn black and rot away.” The nightmarish zebra’s smile seemed to only grow wider as the blade tip descended, the hot edge searing flesh and charring bone. For a moment, the dark room vanished. Crosshair was a white and black striped blur with red splotches, speaking in tongues for all I knew, his hooves working methodically inside my chest.

For a moment, his teeth grit and I felt more than heard a pop. Then my whole chest moved and the unbearable pain I had been barely enduring blew my brain like a fuse.

===================================================================

Wintertrot is entirely different when it isn't being assaulted by snow storms. The sun actually does break through the clouds here, admittedly it's only slivers of light, but they add so much colour to the grey drab world we all inhabit. Watching them through a gritty, warped and boarded up window using Crosshair’s rifle scope was my main source of entertainment for a good half week. I lay on the mattress sullenly, the days passing slowly for me. I felt a pang of guilt as I watched Crosshair head out each day while I recovered.

My magic might allow me to use weapons, as long as I wasn’t hurting too bad, but my body needed time to heal. I held onto the shotgun Crosshair had used, I decided it would be best to familiarise myself with the crappy, yet effective gun. I took the gun apart, looking for ways I might be able to improve the shotgun. It was already a bit of a liability being such a short-range weapon, but maybe I could make it more reliable?

I levitated the broken remains of my assault rifle out of saddlebags in the corner. The sad remains of my temporary firearm were tightly crushed together, I had to work my hooves, teeth and magic to pull the gun apart. The main body was useless, a caved in mess, but the firing pin, safety and grip and stock had survived relatively intact. They were certainly in better condition than the shotgun’s own parts.

I first decided to try and replace the firing pin first, I mean it should be the easiest part to swap out. Unfortunately, the shotgun firing pin was thicker than the rifle’s own. Cursing, I decided to compare the stock and safety, finding them both to be inappropriate matches. I threw the rest of the rifle away in frustration. The shotgun could be powerful, but its ammo limited it to a short range weapon, I levitated the twelve gauge shells over to me, turning one of them over.

I levitated a combat knife from my saddlebag and carefully slit along the side of it, from top to bottom. I then set the shell on top of an old magazine, ‘The Who’s Who of Canterlot’, and peeled open the plastic shell to examine the inner workings. There appeared to be a large metal slug, resting inside a metal case of some sort. Carefully pulling the shell wider, I slid the two pieces of metal out with my telekinesis. Behind the casing was a plastic padding with holes in the side of it. Pulling this out, I was confronted by a tightly packed wad of paper. The wadding was actually a bit hard to get out, but after removing this, I was able to finally see the shell’s powder. Levitating over a dry tin can, I dumped the powder into it. Looking down into brass casing of the shell, I could see the primer sitting in the center of the bottom.

Looking at the odd assortment of items that went into the ammunition, I tried to imagine it working in the weapon itself. Firing pin to primer. Primer ignites powder. Powder punches into the paper wadding. Wadding squishes, and absorbs some of the shock. Then the strange plastic bit... It seemed to have a spiral line of support. Taking impact from the wadding and powder, the structure would collapse slightly, giving it a bit of a twist. Then the casing and slug would launch down the barrel. Looking at the casing, it was obvious that the slits in the side of it would catch along any rifled barrel, making for a nice spin on the slug to help its accuracy.

It all made sense now, and with a little help, this ammo could easily be improved. And I had the ideal ammo I could use to make the improvements. I levitated out the twenty five millimetre grenades for my now non-existent grenade machinegun and decided to take one of them apart. The smooth grenade shell was easy for me to disassemble, all I needed was some empty shells and I could make some proper ammo.

===================================================================

Crosshair returned that night, carrying pieces of frozen meat and some kind of small animal pelts. I figured not asking about them was the safest route to take. He had been more talkative, trying to get me to talk about my time as a younger ranger. I usually deflected the questions with half-truths, giving vague answers like ‘It was alright’ or ‘Can’t complain really’. I mean I should’ve been thrilled he was talking to me, but the events two days prior, the nightmarish version of him, hovering over my chest, still had me spooked.

It was difficult being in the same room as him at times. I never said anything, but I knew he could tell something was wrong. The awkward silence we were enduring whilst waiting for the slightly irradiated meat to cook was stifling, I glanced around, desiring something I could talk about.

“I see you have been busy Elder. I notice you’ve decided to destroy your grenades for some reason.” I felt a smile creep onto my face, now I had something I wanted to talk about.

“You’re way off, my striped friend. I haven’t been destroying valuable ammo, I’ve been repurposing it!” I paused briefly to reach for the box of modified slugs I had kept close at hoof. “These are what I have been making.” I levitated one over to Crosshair, his face showing genuine curiosity. He played with the shell, seemingly weighing my modified slug in his hooves.

“It’s heavier,” He stated, obviously perplexed. Frowning slightly, he brought it closer to his face, examining it with a critical eye. “Much heavier...”

“I know, brilliant isn’t it? It’s my very own, custom made slug.” I beamed, showing pride at my own hoofwork.

“Elder, I hope that I don’t need to tell you that overpacking powder is not a safe method of making stronger rounds.” His eyes widened suddenly. “Please, stars above, don’t tell me you mixed the propellant powder with the grenade’s!”

“Only one way to find out.” I said with a smile. I started hovering the shell over the fire, and Crosshair went whiter than usual. “Nah I’m just foolin with you. No sense in spoiling a perfectly good dinner.” Crosshair let out a sigh of relief, slumping slightly. “We can test fire the rounds right now.” Crosshair bolted, the room door swinging as he darted downstairs.

===================================================================

The next morning I was well enough to walk, with my power armor on, I wouldn’t have any trouble supporting myself, the suit would just have to do... seventy percent of the work. I decided it would be a good idea to test out the shotgun, so we started looking for a lone mutie to practice on. It had taken a lot of acting, and maybe a Med-X or two to make it more convincing to get Crosshair to relent to my demands, but in the end, I like to think my infectiously good humor and charm won out.

We saw a couple of their hulking forms down the end of one street, and Crosshair spied another on one of the roofs, wielding a missile launcher. We slipped past these muties, looking for easier prey. We ducked through alleyways and hid behind bins or other old wreckage searching for a lone Super Stallion, hoping one would trot past us.

"Crosshair, how prevalent are these Super Stallions?" I whispered as we emerged onto a street clear of the vile mutants.

"They are fairly common, especially in the commercial district." Crosshair's orange eyes scanned the street with the well trained eyes of a hawk as we moved onwards. I found the cold to be much more tolerable than it had been earlier, and I relaxed a little hoping the worst Wintertrot had to plague us with was behind us.

We passed through the frozen city, my helmet's E.F.S combined with Crosshair's knowledge of the city kept us relatively safe. We had to avoid a few streets due to the number of Super Stallions crowding them. Several tense hours of sneaking through the ruined streets had put us both in sullen moods, but for different reasons. I was of the mind that we could, with the shotgun rounds, probably, take on two mutants at once. If we got the jump on them. Crosshair seemed to be growing tired of my weedling at him to test my perfectly safe innovations.

“Elder Inkwell, the chance of finding a lone mutant in this city is like finding just one bloatsprite, there’s always more, just around the corner.”

“I dunno Crosshair, I’ve certainly seen lone bloatsprites before.” I argued. “Besides couldn’t you make that argument for anything?” Crosshair’s eye twitched, right before he gave me a deadpan stare.

“Oh, I’m sorry, who’s lived most of his life in Wintertrot again?” I decided not to answer, I could tell Crosshair was getting irritable again.

Our lack of luck in finding lone muties to shoot was not going to deter me from firing the shotgun. “Fine Crosshair, you win this time. We’ll give up the mutie hunt.” Crosshair couldn’t keep the smug grin off his face. “You can just shoot that door instead.”

Crosshair facehoofed, letting out yet another sigh. “Elder, I do not think this is a good idea.”

I nodded, ensuring the barrel of the shotgun wasn’t jammed with snow or anything. Hoofing it over to the zebra, I rolled my eyes. “Look Crosshair, stop worrying and just fire the gun, it’s perfectly safe.” I then proceeded to the minimum safe distance of thirty feet, behind a broken brick wall. “Okay, go ahead.”

Crosshair proceeded to stand there and stare at me. “You said this was supposed to be safe?” He asked, looking at the gun like it was a radscorpion waiting to sting him in the eye.

“Completely safe Crosshair. Just go ahead and fire that little beauty.”

Crosshair fidgeted, glancing between me and the door. “If it’s so safe, then why are you all the way over there... behind a wall. In power armor...?” He put emphasis on power armor, giving me an accusing glare.

Giving an exasperated sigh, I facehooved a bit harder than I meant to. “Crosshair, I’m standing at Brotherhood standard procedure safety distance for testing of new armament and munitions. Now stop being a cocknoodle and just fire the damn thing!”

Crosshair threw up his forelegs in frustration, before standing on his rear legs and aiming the shotgun with his forelegs. In retrospect, I probably should’ve mounted it on a battle-saddle.

“Stars above, please protect me.” Crosshair mumbled around the shotgun trigger, before pulling it. Two things happened, the shotgun fired and Crosshair simultaneously performed a backflip due to the recoil, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

The door he had fired on opened, just as Crosshair fired. One second there was a vaguely ponyesque shape, the next there was a fireball and a broken set of double doors. I ran out of my cover, concerned the shotgun barrel might’ve breached or worse, Crosshair was unconscious. I approached the downed zebra, shaking him gently. He rolled around, aiming the shotgun at my face, his gums bleeding and his nose looking distinctly squashed.

“DIS IB ALL YOUB FAULB!” Crosshair bellowed, before lowering the shotgun and massaging his nose with his left hoof. I tried, I really tried to fight it back, but Crosshair’s nasally vocabulary brought involuntary giggles. Crosshair glowered, trying to take a swipe at me. “Ib’s nob funneh”

Before I could start making jokes about Crosshair’s speech, one the broken doors was kicked off of its loose hinges. A mutie stepped out, his face blackened and cut with the broken scraps of a helmet on his head.

“I'M GOING TO WEAR YOUR BONES! AROUND. MY NECK!” The obviously pissed off mutie bellowed, charging at us. I levitated the shotgun, loading the first round I could find into it.

“SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT!” I ordered in a calm if loud manner, handing Crosshair the shotgun. He complied, aiming it using his forehooves, his tail acting like a counterweight and keeping him balanced. The shotgun roared, sending us both tumbling as Crosshair crashed into me. The super stallion was engulfed in an explosion, the shotgun shell completely decapitating him.

“Pushon” Crosshair grumbled. I shrugged standing up and started walking. “Pushon, I Wahb a Pushon.” It took a second for it to click, before I was mentally facehoofing.

“Right, healing potion. My bad.” I uncorked a bottle of the cherry colored concoction and hoofed it over to him. After some rather unpleasant crunching and cracking sounds from his nose, Crosshair downed the liquid.

“I think we can safely say this weapons test has been a complete success.” Crosshair eyed the shotgun before he nudged it towards me. “You’re the one with power armor and hoof mounted drills Elder, you use it.” I gave a half nod, not sure how to respond, Crosshair clearly didn’t enjoy my innovative ammunition. I levitated the shotgun into my saddlebag, plans already forming on how I could mount it to a battle-saddle.

“You know Elder, I almost mistook you for a filly in power armor...” I suddenly liked it better when I couldn’t understand him. I kept my complaints to myself, grumbling a little as we walked over to the steaming corpse. “Nothing... this one has nothing on him.” Crosshair muttered to himself as he searched the body.

“What about in there?” I asked, pointing to the doors that had been blown off. “You think there might be something worth taking?” The interior of the building looked like it lead down some hallways, possibly into an atrium of some kind.

“It should be worth a look Elder.” Crosshair mused before we made our way inside, a large banner was hung in the atrium, proudly proclaiming ‘Welcome to Trotsworth Independent Technologies’. Crosshair gave it a glance and then continued to scan the room, his rifle sitting in his recon suit's battle-saddle.

Looking again at the banner, I froze and felt a stupid grin spread across my face. I giggled, causing Crosshair to give me a confused expression. I burst out laughing, much to Crosshair's alarm.

"Are you mad Elder, what is the matter with you?" I chortled pointing at the banner.

"Th-that banner, hee hee, it's initials. The initials for Trostsworth independent technologies is T.I.T... Tit!"

Crosshair's deadpan expression was back, clearly we didn't share a sense of humor. I sighed and lifted my helmet off to wipe away a mirthful tear. Crosshair shook his head, walking ahead whilst mumbling to himself about immature ponies. Suddenly he paused about five feet from me, his ears twitched, his head turning to the right quickly.

Crosshair aimed his rifle as a large stallion came barreling into the atrium. His eyes glanced at us both quickly, before looking behind himself. “Quickly get down, this will be an ideal ambush site.” Without waiting for a reply, the stallion barreled into Crosshair, scooping the confused and struggling zebra up and onto his back. He dropped Crosshair behind an old receptionist’s desk and galloped over to me.

“Who the buck are yo-GLK!” was all I managed to get out, before the massive stallion clotheslined me into cover with him. He crouched low, peeking just around the pillar we were hiding behind. I tried desperately to not make too much noise as I struggled for air, however breathing seemed less important as a series of heavy hoof falls cracked the fragile floor as a group of ponies entered the room.

“Come out, come out. We know you are here!” That voice, the all too familiar voice of a super stallion. After finally getting a hold of my choking, I edged around the pillar, sneaking a glance at them. There were two of them, both wearing heavier armor than the ones we’d encountered earlier, clearly we would need to have a cunning plan. I spotted movement in my peripheral vision and turned in time to see a minigun being levelled and aimed just beside my head.

*Skreeeee, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack.*

MY EYES! Sweet Luna and Celestia my eyes, the brightness of barrel blinded me as it unleashed a hailstorm of bullets. The weapon’s roar deafened me this close to my head. Why did I take off my helmet!?

The minigun slowed down and finally stopped, but the striations along my vision and the dull thunder in my ears didn’t. The large stallion poked me, trying to get my attention. I could see his lips moving, but all I could hear was a damnable ringing.

“WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING! WHAT?!” I bellowed, my own voice sounding muffled, like listening in through a thick door. I pushed my hooves against my ears, popping them in a vague hope of reestablishing my hearing. The large stallion trotted away from me and began speaking to Crosshair, the large unicorn looking a little embarrassed as he spoke. I decided to go and loot the super stallion corpses, whilst I waited for my hearing to come back.

===================================================================

"I really am sorry about earlier. Heat of the moment and all that.” The pine green unicorn spoke, smiling sheepishly as we trotted through the corridors. “I don’t believe I introduced myself? I am Mustang, perhaps you’ve heard of me?" Honestly I hadn’t, then again, who names their colt after a breed of pony, albeit the most stallionesque pony.

“Er...no, sorry. I haven’t heard of you before.” He seemed to deflate a little. Setting his eyes into a distant stare, he took in a slow but deep breath. “I am Mustang the Thunderhoof,” he boomed while striking a pose on his rear legs. “The saviour of Crow’s Nest, and bringer of Indiscriminate Justice to the forces of Evil!” Watching him sure was impressive, and for a moment, he seemed to be backlit by a slowly growing glow. Staring a bit harder, I noticed his mane sweeping gently in the breeze. Still being inside, I couldn’t help but wonder where the draft was coming from...

"I also cook." He added casually. I very quickly decided I needed him for my contingent. Crosshair could cook decently enough, but it was all exotic zebra stuff that left a weird aftertaste in my mouth. And I am a little ashamed to admit that my own ‘wilderness survival skills’ were more than lacking.

I took a two legged stance myself, and introduced myself. "Well, I am Elder Inkwell. Current leader of the Wintertrot Steel Rangers." I wobbled a little and went back down. "And over there is my first knight, Knight Crosshair." Crosshair was standing on his rear hooves to reach a high shelf in one of the rooms we passed and gave a wave with one of his free forehooves. Honestly, how did Mustang and Crosshair manage those weird poses for so long.

“Aren’t you a little young to be an elder?” Mustang asked, eyebrows raised.

“Why yes...Yes I am.” I stated proudly. Not mentioning how the rest of my contingent had been burnt alive. That would’ve put a downer on the conversation.

"Truly it must be fate that I stumbled on you in your hour of need." He said, grabbing me into a massive bearhug. A small groaning sound emanated from my power armor as the giant muscles along his body flexed, and I could feel a steadily increasing pressure on my healing ribs.

“Uh...” I said intelligently. I would've protested that we didn't need help, then remembered I did need help. Crosshair could easily take care of himself, as he had lived here, after all. Mustang finally let me down and my armour's repair talisman kicked in, easing the warped armor on my chest plate back into place.

The burly Stallion trotted over to Crosshair.

"Hi ho, my Zebra friend. I see a warrior's spirit in your eyes." Mustang's white teeth shone through his thick black beard as he smiled. Crosshair was in his deadpan mode and nodded in recognition as he went about looting the drawers of an office desk.

"Tell me... Crosshair, wasn't it?" Crosshair nodded as he added to the pile of scavenged loot he was piling up. "Ah yes, Crosshair then. I wanted to know if there are more of your striped brethren within this noble order?" My heart stopped, I didn't know whether it was a good idea to tell Mustang there were only two of us. More importantly I didn’t know if my zebra ranger would be peeved at having his people classed as striped. Crosshair spoke before I had a chance to intervene.

"I am... sorry to say that my brothers and sisters do not share my... Elder's values." He said, his eyes flicking over to me for a moment. Mustang raised one of his big, bushy eyebrows and looked back to me as well.

"You're saying there are only two of you?" He asked, seemingly taken aback.

I nodded lamely, realizing how silly it sounded. Two Rangers alone in hostile territory, surely Mustang would think we were a pair of loons and leave. “At the moment, yes.”

"That... That is..." He swept Crosshair up in one of his arms. "TRULY NOBLE!" His thunderous voice echoed out throughout the building. I swear I saw icicles on parts of the roof vibrating at the sound of his voice.

"In enemy territory, against insurmountable odds. The Steel Rangers boldly continue to protect the weak and innocent." Mustang had released Crosshair and pulled off a valiant pose, one hoof raised as he spoke.

"I, Mustang shall hereby be honoured to follow brave souls such as thee." I could swear I was seeing tiny sparkles around his face, and unless he was hiding a tiny unicorn's horn beneath that bushy, curly mane of his, I had no explanation for it.

"Uh.... Very good." I smiled awkwardly, looking to Crosshair who was now watching me as well. "I hereby promote you to knight-" Mustang's eyes seemed to somehow darken. "I mean, I hereby promote you to Star Paladin Mustang." A stray beam of sunlight cut through a hole in the roof illuminating Mustang.The stallion nodded at me approvingly, and I felt the atmosphere warm up considerably.

“Now then, let me introduce you to my gun.” He said with a winning smile, leveling his weapon at me.

Footnote: Level Up

Inkwell: Level 2
No Level advancement.

New Trait Added: Fitful Rest - Due to recent events, your mind has become a disturbing place. You need to sleep 50% longer to feel as refreshed as others. You are also more likely to have bad dreams. (This Trait is not compatible with the Deep Sleep perk.)

Crosshair: Level 2

Perk Added: Calling Doctor Hooves - You know your way around the equine body. With this perk, you are capable of performing emergency medical procedures in less than safe places.

Mustang has joined the party.
Mustang: Level 1

Perk Added: Bigger Guns - You love big guns, and have the muscle mass to move with them. You can wield large and cumbersome guns with ease, including non-equine heavy weapons.

Traits Hidden - Exactly what are you hiding...?

Author's Notes:

This, this actually was a lot quicker than the other rewrites and edits we have made. Anyway there is one thing you all really need to know, the story changes after this point, no we’ll still go to Robronco, only later. Inkwell and his ‘Friends’ are going on a little adventure first.

(Gryphster Editor’s notice: HOLY FAAAAAAACK! So much stuff we had to research for this chapter to work! And all the additions and subtractions and the even more additions! And then the perks! And more additions! We practically doubled this thing! AAAAAGH! I’m tearing my headfeathers out here! And it is only the third chapter, oh Gawd! WARK!)