“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...”

That's how most stories start out, right? Well...

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...

We fucked up.

Not ‘we’ as in ‘us’, the ponies and other creatures of post-apocalyptic Equestria, but those of two centuries ago. ‘We’ as the sentient beings of this world destroyed the only thing we call ‘home’.

Conflicting ideals, the struggle for resources, the pull of a trigger: That's all it took for an all out war.

War never changes. A tireless phrase that’s been said time and time again. War always changes. Factions rise and fall. New, creative ways of death and destruction are found, abused, and expended. The reasons are, as always, purely our own.

The ponies and zebras took up arms against each other. Metals used for simple trinkets and jewelry were formed into blades and new instruments: guns. The same magics used to entertain thousands and the innate ability of unicorns were weaponized, being grotesquely melded into a deadly art.

The Equestrians further enhanced their magic with the creation of Megaspells, arcane super-weapons. Some were capable of raining fire down from the sky or raising the dead so they could continue to fight. They were suppose to be an endgame weapon, until the zebras got a hold of them, too.

Balefire bombs. The Equestrians had never seen anything like them. Necromantic and radioactive dragons’ breath. How the zebras managed to harness and contain the vile contaminant was a complete mystery. The everlasting green flames scorched all of Equestria on the last day, bathing it in a blanket of magical radiation and turning it into a near-dead rock... a wasteland.

That wasn’t the only parting gift from the world of yesteryear, though. A highly toxic substance called taint is found in varying amounts in almost everything, from puddles of dirty water to ‘fresh’ fruit to plants and animals. It’s mutative properties have changed things into monsters from their former selves. Bloatspites, small, bug-like, flying balls of needle-shooting death and pain, bounce around the wastes in search of food, namely ponies. Cockroaches, pigs, and alligators have grown to great proportions. Even little bunnies have transformed into evil critters.

That’s nothing compared to those of us who have survived the Apocalypse. Equines have armed themselves to the teeth to protect what they think rightfully belongs to them, generally a can of beans or couple of stale snack cakes. We kill each other for food or a place to sleep or even... ‘caps’.

Some of us have completely degraded to primal instincts. Raiders run rampant through the blasted streets and burnt landscape, killing and mutilating others just because they can. Ghouls, the product of intense and prolonged exposure to radiation, shamble in the shadows. While some may be sane, even friendly, they’re all just ticking time bombs, waiting for that one thing that sends them over the edge into an animalistic rage. Perverse versions of Celestia and Luna stalk the weak, promising perfect enlightenment and security. They’re all just children of the wastes.

Even after all of this, we survive. Some say we’re slowly dying out, fading away like dust on a soft breeze. There are those who are trying their damnedest to avoid the inevitable extinction, for themselves and others. And then there are those who are helping it along.

Xerophyte: a name that’s only spoken in hushed tones around campfires or dark taverns. Most consider it just a myth, a fairy tale, nothing more than a bedtime story for little colts and fillies. But, it is much more than that. It’s a story of heroism, turmoil, and impossible choices. It’s an epic of an outcast who learns that there’s more to living than just being alive. It’s an adventure filled with hope, darkness, and of course, friendship.

Not everyone has a past they’re proud of. Some have a history so shadowed with vileness, they’ve blocked it from memory so they wouldn’t have to deal with the pain and misery of what they’ve done. Some have even ended their own lives, unable to cope with their misdeeds. The wasteland tends to do that, break us down until we’re nothing. It’s a dangerous, horrible place. Sometimes it needs someone to step up and say “Enough is enough!” Someone to take charge and better the world. Someone to answer the call for help. A selfless person willing to sacrifice. The wasteland needs... a hero.

That wasn’t me. Not then, not now. I wasn’t a hero. The things I’ve done... the crimes against nature I’ve committed... Nothing I do will right them. They are forever a part of me. They haunt me in my sleep and even when I’m awake. Were they worth it? No, nothing was worth what I’d done. Some considered me a ‘bad pony’. I do. Some would like to think otherwise. I find it intriguing how people only choose to see one side of your story. Every cap has two sides... Every darkness has a light shining through it... Every sunny day has a cloud...

Every hero falls...

I laid in the middle of the broken and blasted street, staring up at the ever present cloud cover that blanketed the wasteland sky. I was in the residential sector of Mareverick, a large city-state that operated apart from the Equestrian government. All around, tall apartment buildings rose into the sky, dilapidated spires of stone and brick. Some were only a couple stories tall. Others, like Penchant Tower and the BioTec Equestrian Office, were skyscrapers. The one-hundred foot antennas on the top of the leaning structures seemed to claw at the grey overcast. They were truly a sight to see, a testament to Equestrian ingenuity and architecture.

Beside me, an empty Hydra injector sat near a bizarre looking rifle. The bright red chem casing was cracked, but there was no evidence of it having spilled it’s contents onto the dry, dusty, earth. I sat upright, popping my stiff neck and back in the process.

“Yavla faen...” I grumbled. My head felt like I’d fallen out of a third story window. That would be ridiculous, though. A fall like that would have killed me.

I don’t know why I was in these ruins. The alcoves, outcroppings, and abandoned buildings were perfect hiding spots for all manners of hostiles, from bloatsprite colonies to raiders to mercenaries to an Arbalest (as unlikely as that would be, it was still possible). Hell, even alicorns occasionally sought refuge in these husks of civilization. Although, I would much rather fight a group of alicorns any day than stumble upon a single Arbalest. They were huge, mechanical, lumbering beasts of prewar science and magic, capable of reattaching severed limbs and regenerating from most damage almost instantly. The only thing more terrifying was a Spectre, but they were more a campfire story than anything else. New Wave would occasionally mention them on the radio, but I don’t think anypony had ever brought one down, or even encountered one and lived to tell the tale. Remains of a Spectre battle were always obvious: bullet casings and shells everywhere, puddles of blue-glowing goo or pitch-black ash piles, and no blood. I’d never seen one, of course, only the aftermath and stories.

I picked up the rifle and examined it. It was in good working order. No rust, no dirt, not even scratches or marks on its gleaming silver barrel and body. I remembered that it use to be my brother’s. And our father’s, and his father’s...

I stowed it away in my saddlebag, which was laying close by, it’s contents scattered about. Using my magic, I gathered everything and started filling the two, heavy canvas sacks. I was running low on caps, according to my old, trusty, PipBuck. I still couldn’t remember why I was here. I was doing... something.

There was a time when memories came to me like they happened yesterday, even if they happened years ago. Now, I couldn’t remember anything. I knew who I was and where, but everything seemed foggy and cloudy. There was a thick haze shrouding my recollections. When I tried to remember what I did the day before, or even the week or month, there was nothing. I was a little, living happily with others of my own kind. My brother and I went to a BioTec Research facility. And that’s where the fog began to thicken. Something happened. Something terrible. I couldn’t remember what, but something told me I didn’t want to remember. Everything was so dark and cold. Things didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t know what to do.

“There!” somepony yelled out. He was a grey-green pegasus with a muddy brown mane.

“Hey!” I called back, waving a hoof. Maybe he could tell me what was going on.

My hopes were quickly put down when he started firing his battle-saddle mounted rifle. It was a lever action rifle, but being a pegasus, all he had to do was kick a little pedal mid-flight and he’d be ready to fire again. And he was fast.

Tossing my bags over my back, I bolted down the street, away from him. A couple grounded ponies were firing their weapons too. From the sound of them, one was using a hunting rifle and the other had a submachine gun.

I dashed around the corner of the street. There was very big park ahead, with more buildings sprouting from it’s brown, grassy land. There was a crashed Cantervega ‘autocarriage’ a few dozen feet away. I darted underneath, shifting it with my magic so I could fit. It was tight, but there was just enough room for me. I wasn’t big-boned, by far. I was rather lanky, actually. Maybe even slightly gaunt. Definitely not small framed, though. I was about half a head taller than most other ponies.

“That fucker went this way!” the pegasus called out as I situated the Cantervega over top of me.

“Where’d that cunt nugget go?” an earth pony yelled.

“Search the area. Whoever it was couldn’t have gotten far.” the winged one commanded. I think he was in charge.

“What if they not that bad no more?” the third pony asked. From where I laid prone, I could see that she was a very simple minded unicorn with the SMG. “Did you see ‘em run? Was scared shitless.”

“Butter Stick, what did I tell you? Just because a freak runs away after attacking doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be killed.” the stallion spat. “What that thing did to Golden Wreath is unforgivable. Not even Cotton Candy was spared. She was just a filly! Plus, our employer is dead now. I want that fucker’s caps!”

“Jus’ sayin’ boss, maybe we could let dis one go? Besides, ‘ere’s plenty of caps back at da wagon.” the simple mare said. “It could be watchin us aight now an we wouldn even know it. We could be aight in its sights...”

The three of them looked around cautiously. What had I done? Why did they want to kill me? Who was Golden Wreath and Cotton Candy? They didn’t sound familiar. My mind was full of questions that I wanted to ask, but couldn’t. They wanted me dead. I could tell that they weren’t raiders. The grounded ones wore merc combat armor while the flying one was clad in lightweight metal armor.

“Butter’s right, Pike.” The earth pony said, as she spat out her saddle’s bit. “That shit stick could be scoping us right now. You saw how quickly everypony was killed. It was just seconds and all seven of them were gone.”

The stallion sighed, landing beside his comrades.

“Yeah... Let’s get out of here.” he said. “I don’t feel like getting shot in the head today. And besides that, this is Sunny Greens Park. I don’t want my brain to get mind-fucked either.”

The three of them left the way they had arrived. Sunny Greens Park. It was familiar. I needed to get the fuck out of here. That’s all I knew. I waited a couple minutes before lifting the autocarriage off of me and crawling out onto the sidewalk. I needed somewhere to rest. Maybe that would help me remember.

To the west was a small, ritzy town: Clopton.

I got up, dusted myself off, and started off towards it with a quick gallop. I could have gone fast, but I paced myself. Normally, the trip would take a day, but even for being a little underweight, I was incredibly fit and agile.

It was mid-evening when I arrived at the gated community. It screamed lavished and spoiled fancy ponies, which I was not. I trotted through the open gate, found the nearest tavern, rented a cheap room, and went off to bed.

I needed something to calm my nerves, and sleep and Mint-Als sounded like a good idea.

My racing mind relaxed, I closed my eyes, and drifted off into what I hoped would be a pleasant rest...

Footnote: New Game! Character level 1

Author's Notes:

Hey! I'm still looking for pre-readers and editors! The first five chapters have been completed and edited, but I still need some for the others. If your interested, just send a PM! (please?)