Good evening. This is Dawnstar, personal assistant to Songring's Development Coordinator Benjamen Prodder, and intern from Celestia's Academy for Gifted and Talented Unicorns in Canterlot. I will be presenting a report today on a grim occurrence during Songring's winter in the year 1224 in place of Mr. Prodder due to trauma he endured and has thus refused to report his findings while he recuperates.

To settle the mind of Mr. Prodder, I wish to inform him that I have not been reading the entries prior to this one as to preserve his privacy. I am unsure as to how such things like this journal are usually written, however, so I will simply make the assumption that it is a professional log for future study and review of his decisions to better himself in the future.

At approximately 8:30 AM yesterday, the caravan led by Sir Jack Bullion was spotted on the horizon, passing over the crest of the hills connected to the Fatal Horns, south of the settlement. This was expected, as his caravan is scheduled to arrive each winter to help bridge the gap between autumn and spring with supplies and communication from The Sun of Chance. His caravan this year consisted of three wagons and four guards, along with six other workers who aided in hauling the wares and other miscellaneous tasks. He was wearing blue and gold this year, instead of his usual purple ensemble (Mr. Prodder was upset last time I omitted any details, so I will do my best to keep these reports as accurate as possible).

Breakfast was served at roughly the same time in the dining hall for all scheduled parties. Breakfast consisted of wheat bread and strawberry preserves. I, myself, find strawberries from this region a bit tart, so I find it preferable to eat them straight with a dusting of granulated cane sugar. The mornings meal sufficed and went rather uneventfully.

It was a Tuesday, so Mr. Prodder first busied himself in the smelting room to oversee the casting of silver and lead ingots from the galena ore retrieved from the mine. I went to check on Willow's construction of new beds for the recent wave of migrants, as well as conducted a few follow-up interviews with some of them to gather a bit more information for Songring's roster: The small, metal-bound book Mr. Prodder has instructed me to make notes of each of the settlers in. I was forced to give a reprimand to Maple for teasing Overcast by forcefully taking his possessions without permission. I also gave Overcast three verbal reprimands: The first, for not reporting such abuse to the proper authority; the second, for lollygagging; and the third, for creating a sour mood in the workplace. He was on rather thin ice, as seven more admonishments that day could have very well meant that he would receive a written notice to Mr. Prodder about his behavior.

At approximately 9:45 AM, concerns of several subordinates were brought to my attention when they started reporting sightings of a group of unknown ponies standing upstream, along the banks of the Charmedsmile near the canyon to the west between the Fatal Horns. These concerns were dealt with by assuring the residents that if they met with anypony arriving from that direction, they could direct them to me for their interview and processing for the Songring roster. They requested I speak with Mr. Prodder about the issue immediately, but I felt that he should not be disturbed while supervising the smelting of the lead and silver ore. I find myself still a bit wary of approaching him during those times, considering the physical rebuking I received the last time I entered the mines.

At precisely 11:20 AM, It was requested that I be witness to this band of ponies that everypony was concerned about. Going to investigate, I saw a band of twelve ponies marching along the banks of the Charmedsmile toward the bridge, carrying with them small saddlebags and what appeared to be large instruments. They were clothed in skins and wool that covered most of their pelts and hid them from view. Overall, it appeared to be a troop of nomads or vagrants who might be looking for somewhere to find work. Excited about new blood in Songring, I went to collect the roster and returned in time to witness the farmhoof Lilly (commonly known as Big Lilly, for her immense stature and build) approach them as they grew closer to the settlement. She shouted at them to hold their position until someone arrived to speak with them, yet it seemed that the troop did not heed her request. When she stepped in their path to impede them, the band raised their instruments.

They struck her down.

I still have not been able to fully comprehend what I witnessed at that moment. The whole thing seems unfathomable. I can't believe anypony would do something like that. It happened though... the results cannot be denied. Like a swarm, the twelve ponies on the bank of the Charmedsmile converged on Lilly when she tried to stop them. As hard as she fought against them: With as many kicks and bellows as she could muster, she could not best them. Her final words were cut short as she was bashed into the Charmedsmile... and finally pulled under by a school of tigerfish.

I did not know what to do. As the eyes of the invaders fell on those of us standing witness to their crime, I froze. I could not yell, nor could I move. Everything in me locked up, including my thoughts, and all I could do was watch them approach.

Daggersides must have exited the dining hall at that time, along with Shadowstep and Heartstrike, because the three defenders immediately took position against the front-line and began a forward assault on the group of invaders. She yelled at me. I don't remember what her precise words were, but she shouted at me and told me to go find Benjamen. The words made sense, but I could not seem to follow them. Not until I was faced with yet more brutality as one of the invaders must have recognized me as a leader and approached. He had a sword, a curved one, with a wide blade made of metal. As the strike came down upon me, a pickaxe swung in the way of the blade and parried it away. That is when Glacier Cut stepped in front of me and told me to run, flailing the mining pick wildly at my attacker to push him back.

I did as I was told. I ran as fast as I could to the mining shaft, throwing open the door. Mr. Prodder was there and asked me what was wrong when he saw me. I must have been crying, though I don't remember doing so, because he kneeled down in front of me and touched my neck to calm me while I tried to tell him what happened. The first words I can remember clearly at that time was when I asked him, "What do I do, Mr. Prodder? I don't know what to do."

The Coordinator told me to run and find anypony I could. I was to tell them to get to either the dining hall or the apartment halls, whichever was closer, and lock the doors behind them. He told me that I was to then go to his bedroom and watch from the window until the situation was over, at which point, I should then let everypony know that it is safe to emerge again. I was going to do as he said, but I waited for him to come with me to do it. Instead, he reached for a hammer from one of the anvils in the forge, and grabbed a poker from beside the furnace. I asked him then if he was going to be coming with me, and he told me no.

"I'm heading into the field. If the defenders are out there, they need support."

That is the point where I do remember crying. I informed him of how irresponsible it was to put himself in the line of fire like that. I told him that I did not think I could do this myself. I begged him to come with me, and to please not leave me alone right then.

Mr. Prodder yelled at me. "Pull yourself together, Dawnstar! A lot of ponies are in danger right now, and we can't let them down! I've already told you what to do, now do it. There's no time for worries."

I asked him what he was going to do.

He just shrugged at me then, and said: "Whatever I can."

At that time, we split off to our respective duties. I gathered everypony I could find and told them to get to the safety of the buildings immediately. Once they were safely locked away, I went to the Coordinator's bedroom and watched from the window as instructed.

Before yesterday, I had never watched anypony fight like that. I also had never actually seen anypony die.

By that time, which was approximately ten or fifteen minutes after I had last seen Mr. Prodder, he had divided Songring's defenders into two separate groups. Daggersides led the group of defenders on the northern side of the Charmedsmile, which consisted of Heartstrike, Shadowstep, Tye Dye, and Flick. Mr. Prodder led the second group on the Southern side towards Sir Bullion's caravan, which was only perhaps a quarter of a mile away from the engagement. Some of the invaders (six) had broken away from the battle and were advancing on the caravan, which must be why Mr. Prodder took only Salmon, Maple, and Springfield with him to pursue the small group that went to intercept Sir Bullion.

On the northern side of the river, the group engaged head on. Glacier Cut was bashed into the river with a club in much the same way as Lilly had been. Daggersides was attempting to hold the line between the attackers and the river so that Shadowstep could pull Glacier Cut back to the bank, but it was too late from the looks of it. One of the five attackers broke through Daggersides' defensive line of telekinetically wielded weapons, and took Shadowstep in the throat with a large dagger. Heartstrike swept the attacker off of his feet with a branch and kicked him into the river, but once again, the counterstrike came a moment too late as Songring's third casualty had already fallen motionless. The remaining defenders pushed back to gain distance from the Charmedsmile under direct command from Daggersides (she must have realized that being so close to the river and its hazards was their greatest weakness). The rest of the conflict was hoofled as Daggersides pushed the fallen attackers' weapons to the two other defenders alongside her. They spread out to flank the remaining four invaders and boxed them in back-to-back with each other.

Mr Prodder's squad arrived at Sir Bullion's caravan after the caravan guards had already been caught by surprise, and the workers had fled into the surrounding forestry to avoid confrontation. Springfield and Salmon went together to secure the two rear wagons and use them as a defensive position. Maple and the coordinator both went to aid Sir Bullion, who was surrounded by three attackers and bravely swinging at them with a rapier, attempting to hold them back with flourishes and thrusts: He looked more like he belonged in a fable about a sharply dressed swordspony and his quest for an ancient goblet. Curiously, the merchant did not remain there out of necessity, as he had many opportunities to make a safe retreat: He must have stayed to defend what was his, or to make a name for himself. Or maybe he wanted to defend those he felt were his friends... Perhaps he fought for Songring?

Maple and Mr Prodder flanked two of the attackers surrounding Sir Bullion, freeing him to deal with the final one with his practiced swordsponyship. Maple clubbed one over the head with the blunt side of her woodcutting axe. I imagine she must have been shouting goads and prods at him afterward to work him into such a frenzy that he would follow her. Mr Prodder jumped onto the back of the second attacker and grabbed the spear in his mouth with both hands. Using it like a mouthpiece on a bit and bridle, he pulled back on the long shaft of the spear in the attacker's mouth and subdued him by wrapping his legs around the pony's abdomen, refusing to let go.

Springfield and Salmon had split up to secure the other two wagons, one each, and encountered the remaining three attackers in doing so. Salmon was pitted against two of them, with only a metal poker for his weapon. He danced around his opponents' strikes with hops and twists, standing on only his hind legs and flapping his wings to hold him in position as he parried and spun. Springfield faced the other with only a blunt hammer from the forge. He did no dance, and wasted no time in dispatching the pony assaulting him: His attacker approached swinging a flail, he ducked beneath the oscillation and took hold of the chain in his mouth to rip it out of the pony's grip. With both the flail in his mouth, and the hammer in his right grasp, he furiously beat the creature before him until it ceased the move any longer. When it was over, he spat the flail onto the lifeless form and charged Salmon's pursuers from the side to knock them into one another. While they were prone on the ground, the two stallions delivered lethal strikes, and went to see if they could assist their overseer.

Sir Bullion, still masterfully wielding his blade with his horn, had flurried his opponent until he was backed against a tree. When the pony stood on his hind legs to avoid a low sweep of the weapon, the swordspony rammed his rapier past the invaders ribs and into the barrel of his abdomen, leaving him pinned to the bark of the tree as his breath finally left him (this last part was recounted by Sir Bullion afterwards for anyone who would listen). Maple could not seem to find a striking stance to give a deathblow to her attacker, and instead found herself pressed into a tight spot when the pony before her, wielding a hoofaxe, had chopped through the hilt of her own. Using her wings to her advantage, she writhed out of the way of a strike and rose above her adversary before flipping her hind legs above her head and dropped the knee of her front leg below her. She then dove out of the sky with all of her weight concentrated right in the center of her adversary's back. I do not have to be a physician to understand that the curve the pony's middle spine made following that maneuver meant it was fractured. The invader fell to the ground in a desperate, heaving lump.

That left only Mr. Prodder engaged in combat, as he continued to cling to the pony's back and keep a tight grip on the shaft of the spear, pulling back and refusing to let his assailant spit it out. They seemed to be deadlocked as the stallion thrashed angrily, bucking wildly to try to dislodge his rider. In a desperate act, the pony rolled over onto his back, disorienting the coordinator by slamming him beneath his weight before standing up once again and readying a hoof to strike Mr. Prodder before he could regain his bearing. Sir Bullion used his horn to sweep the now dislodged spear beneath the attackers' legs and send him tumbling to the ground. Mr. Prodder then wrenched his arm around the pony's neck and pulled it tight with his other arm to try to choke him while shoving one of his knees into the side of his assailants spine to lock him to the ground. This lasted until Sir Bullion drove the sharpened head of the spear into the back haunch of the invader with enough force to nail him to the ground, letting Benjamen stand up and move back to allow Springfield to bring down a heavy, final swing with his hammer to end it.

The attack was over.

I ordered all ponies in the apartment halls to report back to their assigned duties for the day, and to be ready for special orders, if need be, due to the circumstances. The dining hall was once again opened, and I rushed to Mr. Prodder to ask if he knew what our next course of action was to be. It was shocking to see him in the state he was in. (I would rather describe it as frightening.) A very grim air hung about him when I asked what I could do to help and what needed to be done.

"Take a roll call. Leave me a report of who is injured or deceased. Once you have those names, get them to Dirtnap too so he can prepare for the burials. The others, these... fucking monsters, I don't care. Just throw them in the Charmedsmile for the tigerfish to eat."

The demand is reasonable and practical, simply shocking to hear him say it so wearily. Maple took him to his office to make him sit down so he would rest. Salmon and Springfield joined them briefly to head to their quarters so they could figuratively lick their wounds.

Lilly, Glacier Cut, and Shadowstep are the names of the three ponies that were lost during the ambush. Two of them are irretrievable, so I have taken the initiative to request that Overcast and Silversight get to work on making and engraving a memorial slab for each of them. Shadowstep's body has been turned over to Dirtnap for him to prepare for a proper funeral. I have not given the order to dump the bodies of the ambushers into the Charmedsmile yet in case Mr. Prodder should change his mind and request something more in line with his usual protocol. Instead, I have had them moved to temporary wooden boxes on the river's edge to get them out of the settlers’ sight.

Reading back through my recordings, I see just how much my lack of sleep last night after the attack has affected my professional writing capabilities. It must be recorded, however, as little justice as I may do it, and I do not expect Mr. Prodder to take the time to do so after the trials he suffered yesterday. I came into his office early this morning to hoofle this, hoping to finish before he woke up, and before I became too busy to actually get around to it.

Benjamen Prodder is still sleeping in his chair right now at his desk. I have been writing this while both he and his guest continue to sleep,. Maple stayed the night in here with him. She is lying atop him in the chair with her nose buried into the back of it and her jaw on his shoulder. His fingers are interwoven within her mane and his face is buried into her neck, possibly for comfort. They look peaceful, despite the carnage that I witnessed them go through. I can only imagine that perhaps Maple was troubled by seeing him in danger, as were we all, and simply wanted to reassure herself that he was okay by holding him while she slept. It could be the other way around, and maybe Mr. Prodder was upset by what he had to do yesterday, and Maple sought to comfort him with her company.

To think so many showed such great heroism and bravery to defend Songring. Daggersides rushed to arms without an order or statement to do so, doing it instead because she felt it was her duty and the right thing to do. Heartstrike, Shadowstep, Maple, Salmon... all of them set aside their fears knowing that something had to be done to save those of us here that could not defend ourselves, despite not knowing what the outcome of their struggles would be or what pain they might endure. Mr. Prodder formed a plan of action and saw it through to the best of his ability, and went above and beyond the call of duty to make sure that not only were his subordinates alright, but also his business partner Sir Bullion. He even risked himself further by taking fewer members of the militia for his engagement to the south. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he was secure in his decision, and acted accordingly, seeking out the answer of what that act should be himself.

What did I do?

I cried, and I crumbled under the stress. I failed to act with any form of diligence or composure when Songring needed me most. When everypony needed me. All I could do was follow direction, and even that I almost could not do because of my insecurity. What kind of leader is that? Perhaps I am not of the same stock that leaders are forged from. Perhaps there are ponies, like them, that are iron and steel... and I am merely silver: Shiny and precious, but deep down... just soft, and will prove to be ultimately useless.

I must close this entry before I continue to write regrettable thoughts here and tarnish Mr. Prodder's records any further. I still cannot help but watch him slumber with the pegasus lying against him though. Why her?

I'm the one who’s scared, not her.

I'm the one who needs somepony right now... Somepony to hold me like that...

I just don't know what to do...