War. War never changes.

At any given time, any given place, war rages. There has never been a place, nor has there been a time when peace has prevailed once and for all; or, to be honest, at least for a few seconds. War is raging all the time. While some planets, or even galaxies, may enjoy a few peaceful years, others are torn apart by countless conflicts, all at the same time. I repeat, there has never been a peaceful second in the Universe.

Shall we be talking about humans, ponies, or other living beings, it is all the same. There hasn't been a species that hasn't been corrupted by greed and jealousy, by lust for vengeance and urge for dominance. Sooner or later, all sentient beings learn about war, and, from then on, they never are the same. My story is about ponies, creatures once guided by the magical power of love, tolerance and friendship, who were thrown into the darkened abyss of misery and hatred, and, well, learned to kill and hate as well. War has corrupted them too.

Throughout the years, and centuries, conflicts have changed. Weapons have changed. Goals have changed.

In ancient times, way before civilisations took their reign, primeval beings were fighting for survival, killing each other for food, shelter, and, of course, to show their supremacy. Equipped with clubs and stones, they would soldier on to kill each other without thinking much about such concepts as the value of life, or the reason behind the conflict, or the repercussions. They would kill, and get killed, and that was all there was to it. Nothing more, nothing less.

In antique times, bright and educated individuals considered war a means of developing progress, and supported it while their troops marched on and on to conquer new lands. Assured that they were on the right path, soldiers would murder one another for beauty and glory, for money, fame, and country. Armed with spears and steely swords, they unleashed death upon their enemies, aiming for the ultimate bounty: slaves. The losers would be enslaved by the winners; and so it went.

Medieval knights, locked in sturdy metal armour, would kill for the love of God, sure that they would end up in the Promised Land of some sort after the war, and their enemies would do just the same. They knew no fear of death. The God they were fighting for would often be the same; the approach to Him was different. Sometimes I wonder if that God of theirs would ever approve of slaughter in His name?

In times of lead and steel, war gained a whole new meaning as guns and rifles appeared on the horizon: now, it was easy to pierce flesh, just like a knife would pierce a briquette of warm butter. The number of troops rose, and with it rose the demands of those who stood behind the war: rulers and clerics, war scientists and factory owners - liars and hypocrites. Wars became global, involving whole countries, whole alliances of countries. Casualties reached millions. Surely it was high time  to stop murdering each other and learn to maintain peace in the already collapsing world. But this was not the end.

Then came Megaspells. Since my story is about ponies, the creators of Megaspells, I believe I must give an explanation. Megaspells are powerful contraptions with the ability to wipe out whole cities - in a flash. What is more, with Megaspells comes radiation. Radiation depletes the cells of one's body; it contaminates each and every molecule, until there's nothing left. A death brought upon by radiation is a horrible death.

When the bombs fell - bombs enchanted with Megaspells - one could witness the very Apocalypse: the End of the World. The end of Equestria and Zebra Lands alike, with all sea and land contaminated by the merciless radiation, forever. But there were none to witness it. While some ponies had managed to escape, finding refuge in the Stables, hoping that those bunkers would help them trick Death, others were destroyed on the spot, just as the bombs fell.

Just as the bombs fell.

Nopony can trick Death. Nobody can trick Death. Whatever your alignment, you will ultimately bow to it, for it is your last and most unbiased Lord. A Lord whose judgement takes nothing into consideration: be you ill-mannered or the epitome of kindness, the end you'll meet will be the same.

When it seemed that Equestria perished once and for all; when it seemed that the light had died forever, just as the Sun and the sky were sealed by the cloud curtain that the pegasi had so conveniently created; when it seemed that the whole planet could finally enjoy its well-deserved rest, - Destiny seemed to have had other plans.

The Equestrian Wasteland reigned over the polluted and ruined territory that once could be proudly called The Magical Land of Equestria. The Wasteland had established new rules, for the game had changed as well. Kill or be killed. Steal or die of starvation. Join those who are stronger than you and suppress those who are weaker. Everypony for themselves.

The mores had changed. Friendship was replaced by rivalry; love was replaced by suspicion and distrust; and tolerance was wiped off from the very hearts of all living beings. The Wasteland prevailed. It had changed everything. Everything but war.

Countless groups fought for dominance, day by day, not counting casualties or considering negotiations. New weapons came into play, new goals led ponies to fight, new ideals guided their way... But the war still raged.  

Because war... war never changes.

You must think this to be strange - a random pony sharing their opinion on war? But there is much more to my story than this. There are ponies with roles to play, and their tales can now be told. Ponies united by the constant fight for survival. Ponies united by the common goal, which, to all of them... to all of us, back then, seemed meaningless.

My part in all of this? Please allow me to introduce myself: name's The Doctor. That's all there is to it. I have been around for a long time, and I have seen things. I have observed things. I have learned things. I have never interfered, but only contemplated - that's the way of a Time Lord. But the Wasteland has changed me, as it has changed everything.

This is the story of change, and hope, and friendship, and lack thereof. This is my story, and the story of all those who have, just like I have, been influenced by the Equestrian Wasteland. This is the story of broken refugees and hopeless romantics - heroes who have found it in their hearts to be good, whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes.

I must warn you, however - I'm no writer, nor am I a decent storyteller, so humour me, shall my ramblings and lack of style get out of hoof.

With that in mind, I ask you to proceed on to the story. Are you ready? Because once you're in, there's no stopping.

Allons-y!