/ Chp 3: Fear of the unknown / Story: Blight of The War Horse (Reforged) / by TheGunslinger12 /-/
"Well, Mrs, I'm glad you're finally awake." The white-robed unicorn said, nervously glancing at the warrior's piercing glare as he approached.
Adjusting a pair of glasses resting on his stubby muzzle, the unicorn looked over a wooden board hanging from her bed's footboard. His fur was a dark-peach color, a clean-cut mane/tail was a light shade of brown, and the picture of a Y-shaped tube linking two metal sticks and a disk adorned his flank. "I suggest reframing from any additional outburst, Ma'am; It took the two princesses to hold you down while we administered the anesthesia." He added, despite the word not reaching the mare.
Walking toward the left side of the warrior's bed, the unicorn peered up at one of the beeping machines. Lighting his horn, a wooden stick floated onto a board without his attention, scratching something across its surface.
She wanted to, oh so badly, spring up and beat the cowardly bastard to a bloody pulp with every ounce of her might- to see him beg for unwelcomed mercy. But alas, her body succumbed to a new form of exhaustion, likely of the doctor's actions. It wasn't unlike the sense of drowsiness and far from severe exhaustion. It almost had the same feeling as the crystal. Whatever he had done, it was as if he had extracted every semblance of energy from her being; it was a near-impossible task to remain awake. A pervasive weariness enveloped her, weighing down her limbs like anchors; her eyelids felt heavy as lead, threatening to seal shut, beckoning her into sleep and oblivion.
Luckily, the fight to remain awake became more formidable for the warrior. She had slept long enough and silently thanked the gods she wasn't slain after her humiliating defeat at the alicorn. On the topic of defeat: the thought of the unicorn mare and lizard came to mind.
How could she have fallen victim to a mere unicorn a dozen times weaker than the alicorn!? At least the unicorns she faced off with were more fun when thrusting their sword at her neck, and they didn't look so pathetic either.
And that strange dialect the unicorn mare, the lizard, and the robed unicorn spoke contradicted hers: a mush of sounds pouring out of a crushed voice box. Not long ago, the ponies she fought and interacted with spoke words in languages she was forced to study in training; this language sounded like gibberish. Wherever she found herself now wasn't near her home settlement. The clothing this one wore, his clean coat, and the absence of hate or stress in his features was entirely different from any creature she was familiar with.
It's as if he knew but a shred of any ongoing war, and the shred, he discarded it in mud.
As much as it confused her, the mare felt a twinge of...something, seeing the unicorn's almost carefree disposition.
The warrior's attention was brought back to the real world when the unicorn hummed pleasantly to himself, writing down on the board a second time. "It looks like you're in stable condition, which is surprising, given the extent of your body. Still, I have to administer a dose of painkiller to prevent any soreness after the surgery." Pulling something from a pocket on the chest of his robe, the unicorn's magic removed its orange cap to reveal a sharp needle.
Upon seeing the horrendous contraption, the warrior's eyes shot open in fear, her breath rapidly increasing along with the beeping.
She knew exactly what he was…
It was only supposed to be a simple scouting mission, gathering supplies for the village and returning with any useful information- an easy assignment for a young trainee.
The mare remembered Kicking and screaming, her terrified and roughed-up young-mare self wailing in a piercing, desperate tone, echoing through the dense, humid air. She fought with all her strength, attempting to break free from the clutches of two caribou shamans dragging her by her sore forelegs.
As the shamans forcefully ushered her into the dimly lit interior of one of their ancient, mystic huts, the air became heavy with anticipation. The atmosphere within the primitive dwelling was thick with an otherworldly aura, a mix of musty earth and the distinct scent of herbs hanging in the air. The filly's heart pounded in her chest as she was hurled onto a cold, weathered stone block that witnessed countless rituals, its surfaces stained with a reddish, brown hue.
Pinned against the stone by the demented shamans, the filly's vulnerable form was exposed, her cries of anguish and terror piercing through the eerie silence.
Appearing from behind the imposing shamans, a massive, more formidable caribou appeared, his frame exuding authority and power. As he approached, the weight of his very existence was palpable to the young mare, casting an even deeper shadow over the trembling filly. With calculated precision, he began to strip away the young warrior's armor and clothing, piece by piece, leaving her shivering, exposed form utterly defenseless to his grinning compatriates. She tried her hardest to fight back, but they'd always slam her head into her stone bed hard enough to not cause serious injury.
Emerging from within his pouch belt, the imposing figure retrieved a crude needle—a slender instrument the caribou recently invented, filled with a pulsating, neon-green fluid: a mixture made from various plants. The sight sent shivers down the filly's spine, intensifying her cries of desperation.
Sticking the point into her foreleg following multiple failed attempts of escape from her and a knocked-out shaman, the agony from the missed injections barely masked the fiery pain coursing into her when the mixture entered her bloodstream.
Everything onward was a blur; Flashes of excruciating pain, the metallic scent of blood, and the grotesque violations inflicted upon her fragile body by the remorseless shamans merged into a horrifying blur, forever repeating. They wanted to use her, deface her body for experiments, and strip her of everything that made her both a pony and a mare, all for their sick enjoyment, especially the last one. They stole her from her camp those many moons ago under the veil of night; With each passing day this went on, the flickering spark of hope for rescue dimmed, replaced by a sured desire for death.
Even when her vanguard comrades arrived and rescued her, the damage inflicted upon her young body and mind left irreversible scars. The caribou's cruelty had reduced her to a hollow husk that day, a mere shadow of her former self that took months to repair.
The scars imprinted on her mind could never be forgotten, but the shamans and their villages were easily erasable.
Fear gripped the warrior with those buried memories resurfacing into the forefront of her mind. Panic came down on her in full force, causing her to fight against the straps holding down each limb. What had they done while she wasn't awake?! The shaman pony's vile intentions loomed, filling her with dread. Trembling, she felt the weight of vulnerability and helplessness starting to strangle her windpipe, each breath heavier than the last.
NO!
She wasn't about to let the shaman pony practice his vile ways, even if she had to rip her limbs off to get away!
Cowardness mustn't be shown!
As the bed she fought against rattled and shook violently under her panic to escape, the shaman's expression turned to worry and horror. "This isn't good!" He whispered under his breath. Running to the door, his magic nearly broke the wooden barrier off the hinges opening it, and stuck his head out. "The new patient is getting out of control again; I need assistance!" He shouted before returning.
Not long after the vile shaman yelled out in his strange language, a small army of mares and stallions dressed in light-blue garbs rushed the warrior mare. Now she found herself going against the shaman's companions and the restraints; the mare released an enraged yell mixed with fear, her eyes darting randomly to each pony. The support underneath moaned and strained, clearly unable to support her weight AND thrashing motion. But none of that mattered. These bastards wouldn't get her again; she would slaughter every disgusting pony in this goddess-forsaken place if she had to!
When one of the nurses, a unicorn, lit her horn, a swift, forceful whip of the warrior's head impacted the nurse's jaw, dislodging a few bloody teeth as she crumpled to the ground. Before another nurse could react, attempting to restrain her leg, the warrior delivered a jabbing buck to his throat; he soon joined the unicorn nurse on the floor shortly after the fierce - but not killing -attack. But no matter how many pitiful bucks and swings she threw, more and more of the shaman's underlings continued flooding the room, eventually pinning a tired Warrior and her head to the bed.
Out of frustration and poorly hidden fright, the warrior's knee-shaking roars turned into shrill cries, her throat raw and tears flowing from her good eye. And as the needle jabbed her foreleg, she clenched her eyes, preparing for the inevitable pain.
Strangely, there wasn't a moment in her darkened vision where hellfire ran through her veins.
Even the room around her sounds quieter besides a few murmurs and hoof steps. Reluctantly, the warrior's eye cracked open slowly, light leaking in from above as she discovered the room nearly devoid of life- including the two knocked-out underlings, sans the unicorn shaman writing on his board. Looking over with bewilderment at the unicorn, the shaman noticed her gaze and sighed.
Shaking his head, he stood up from the ground he sat on. "See, wasn't that bad, right?" He joked, giving a half-hearted chuckle. "Still, I have to admit I had foal's more trouble than you, but none knocked out my staff before. Your thrashing opened up the large scar on your chest before you passed out, and I had to quickly put you under so you couldn't rip out my throat." He chuckled again, this time more nervously. "Oh, and before I forget, you had a couple of special visitors. Although, they never got the chance to speak with you."
"Hold your tongue, unicorn scum. You will tell me where I am and what you did!" The warrior ro-
…what?
The shaman, looking offended by the warriors…words, shook off his indignation and replaced it with a pleasant smile. "While I don't appreciate your harsh language. I see that Princess Celestia's spell is working! Sorry for not noticing your unusual dialect earlier, by the way." He said, his words clear as day to the warrior.
Gawking at his enthusiasm, the warrior scowled deeply as she bared her teeth, "What in the hades?!" She shouted in mute panic. How in all the realms did she understand the unicorn's demeaning language?! "Release me at once, and I'll make your death painless for tainting my blood with your filthy concoctions and spells." She snarled.
The unicorn shaman didn't seem fazed by the warrior's threat other than a subtle jolt, his forelegs moving up to wipe off a bead of sweat from his head. "I'm afraid I can't, Princess's orders." He replied. "I'm not entirely informed about whom you are, ma'am; her majesty only said to keep you here until you've awakened. Seeing as though you are currently speaking with me, I guess I'll take my leave." Turning from the warrior, he walked toward the wooden barrier, ignoring the warrior as she pulled against her restraints.
"Yes, bring your leader here so that I may make an example of her!" She demanded on instinct, growling in annoyance as the unicorn left. Silence filled the room, leaving the warrior seething in silence.
Everything about the past several hours made no sense! She knew her body was wasting away in the unforgiving tundra of snow. There was that flash of light from the alicorn. Then she woke up in a different place twice, filled with alien technology and ponies more pitiful than a sick rabbit. Indeed, this was not her home or anyplace remotely like the lands she's traveled to. The warrior guessed it was her fault for not fully realizing her situation off the bat in the stone room; between her groggy mind and her fight with the cat monster, her rage was the only familiar thing she clung to in her confusion. Why didn't the lavender unicorn take the chance to kill her, a vanguard member? Why didn't the shaman and his underlings kill her for fighting back? Why were there earth ponies among the hoard of pegasi and unicorns sent to restrain her?
And more importantly, who is Celestia, and what was a princess? There were chiefs, tribe leaders, and generals that ordered around their ponies, but the warrior never heard of a princess, let alone a Celestia. And this warm, sunny sensation in her body was likely the magic of this 'princess' at play.
The thought of her beginning a unicorn, much less performing her craft on the warrior's sleeping form, sent an unintentional shiver down her spine.
Why would a unicorn leader care if the warrior knew their language; to get a confession, or was it out of twisted enjoyment? Rage boiled in the warrior in her irritating doubt, wanting nothing more than to hit something. One thing was clear: these ponies wouldn't give her the mercy of a proper death. Maybe they wanted to lead her on, lower her defense into a false sense of security before executing her- unicorns were always sadistic with their prisoners.
Resting her head back on the soft head slabs, the warrior…Storm Breaker held back a whimper of fear as she directed her eyes to the invisible barrier in the wall.
Why did she feel so weak?
There was never a situation or enemy she couldn't take care of by cutting it down. Now bound and gawked at like some prize dog added to the embarrassment she already felt. These strange ponies held Storm Breaker's life in their hooves, and with the apparent outbursts, the shaman proclaimed she had, a second death might be in order.
She was nothing more than an idiotic filly in chains.
A soft groan sounded from Storm Breaker as her eyes fluttered open and met the sight of a single-room, straw hut surrounding her, the roof formed from clay withholding the snowstorm raging outside.
Sitting up from her woolen mat stained brown by the dirt ground, her filly-sized hooves rubbed her eyes. In the center of the room was a fireplace, its rock perimeter containing a blazing fire under a black smoking pot suspended by a log-made support that warmed the hut. Stirring a spoon inside the pot was an older earth pony stallion, his coat resembling his daughters but with a blue mane/tail and green eyes. Storm Breaker stood from her mat and approached the older pony, taking a seat next to him with a frown adorning her face.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" The stallion said with a gruff voice. "You're poor mother's out getting more firewood from the forest. I tried to stop her, but the silly mare worries too much about my leg." He chuckled with a head shake, gently tapping his brace-covered hind leg
Her dad, Swift Strike, was always the gentle, hard-working type of pony but never afraid to get dirty when necessary. His leg was hurt a couple of moons ago when he slipped and fell down the mountain during a hunting trip; the local healers almost had to cut it off due to frostbite when his hunting party found him. As for Storm Breaker's mom, she was the opposite of her father. She liked staying home and doing chores like the other mares in the village, but with Swift Strikes' leg, she had to brave the harsh cold to provide food and wood while her husband took up her duties. Their home wasn't as note-worthy, as there was little to mention besides the fireplace, pot, storage box, and the mats they slept in.
Back with Storm Breaker, her father noticed the gloomy expression plaguing his daughter's face, a sympathetic smile appearing on his muzzle. "You can tell me if something's wrong, you know?" He said softly, removing the spoon from the pot and resting it on the fireplace edge.
Storm Breaker tentatively glanced at her father before looking down, "I had a bad dream." She meekly replied, curling up into a ball and resting her chin on her hind legs.
"What was it about?" He asked.
"Well, I dreamt that you and Mama…disappeared forever, and I became a strong soldier like the guards protecting our home. But I was really really really mad all the time. I did bad things to other ponies and disappeared forever when I lost a fight with a winged unicorn, but I woke up and was captured by strange creatures. There were other things, but I don't want to talk about them." She summarized, shivering in fear at the things that were clearly not real, but her mind didn't agree. All the screams of pain and fear of the ponies she hurt echoed in her mind, causing the young filly to release a choked sob.
His smile dropping, Swift Strike wrapped a foreleg around Storm Breaker and drew her into a loving embrace, rocking while gently shushing her. "It's alright, my darling. Me and your mom are still here with you, so don't worry." He cooed to his sobbing filly. He wasn't as good at comforting, unlike her mother, but Storm Breaker accepted his words all the same.
"I-I don't want to hurt anypony. I want to stay with you and Mama forever; please don't disappear!" Storm Breaker pleaded, muffled by her face buried in her father's chest.
The old stallion patted the crying filly's head, "I know, and none of that will happen, you hear?" He said.
A few minutes passed for the pair as Swift Striker comforted his fearful filly, but Storm Breaker eventually calmed down enough for her father to finish the meal brewing in the pot. Whipping away the tears, the young filly was offered beef stew in a bowl fashioned from a goat skull, which she eagerly took in her tiny hooves. The aroma from the dish filled her nostrils with a sweet, spicy scent, and using a spoon hoofed over by her father, took a bite, letting all the rich flavors and tangy spices melt on her tongue.
The more she ate, the more her fears washed away as the hours went by, a cute smile forming on her muzzle when she finished her third bowl. After dinner- saving some of the stew for Mother -Swift Strike and Storm Breaker moved to a small shrine resting against the hut wall. Made from an aged oak tree from the forest at the mountain's base, the shrine was of an earth pony mare dressed in robes praying under an apple tree. The figure depicted the goddess of the harvest: the one who granted the earth ponies their nature-related abilities and controlled the crops' condition. Putting their hooves together, the Father and Daughter recited a quiet chant they'd spoken of hundreds of times before, praying that the cold would not hinder this year's harvest.
Once they finished their chant, the pair returned to the fireplace and removed the pot from its support, putting it by the hut's entrance for cleaning after the storm died down. However, the time of peace Storm Breaker had with her father was swept away as, laying down on her mat to take an afternoon nap, her father put a hoof on her shoulder.
"Honey, I need to tell you something," Her father said, accompanied by a reluctant and concerned look. "You need to hear what I'm about to say." Nodding her head, Storm Breaker sat up on her mat as her father took a deep breath. "Good girl. Remember what I said about the unicorns, pegasi, and us earth ponies a while back?" He asked.
Storm Breaker nodded with an uncomfortable grimace, "That they're being mean to each other?"
Her father nodded in turn, "Yes, well, with the way things are going nowadays, there might be a…big fight between all of us, and kind ponies like us, who don't hate each other, might get hurt." He explained.
"But why does everypony need to fight!" Storm Breaker exasperated, "Why can't we all be nice and get along? We did nothing wrong." She added.
Swift Striker's voice faltered for a reply to the filly's question before a small scowl formed, "It's complicated. The other races don't like us any more than they do each other, and we're disliked for our goddess-given magic because they're jealous they can't grow crops as we can." He sneered, his scowl disappearing upon seeing his daughter's concern.
"Sorry, I'm not mad. I just worry for you." He smiled sheepishly.
A look of determination crossed the filly's face, "Y-You don't have to, Dad, I can handle myself!" She proclaimed, throwing a sloppy punch, "When I grow up, I'll protect you and Mama from the bad ponies! Some of my friends teach me things they learned for hunting with the other grown-ups; I'll be super strong!" She huffed, pursing her lips and puffing her cheeks into her version of a war face.
"What did I tell you about hanging around those colts? They are a bad influence." Swift Striker sighed, disliking the idea of his filly hanging around the no-good brutes. "And a kind filly such as yourself doesn't need to get involved with violence, you understand?" He questioned, the young filly reluctantly nodding. "What I'm trying to get at, Storm, is that…me and your mother might get caught in this fight and get really hurt. We won't always be around one way or another, and you need to be prepared if something happens."
"But-"
Putting a hoof on Storm Breaker's lips, Swift smiled, "I know it might be scary, but you're a strong filly. And if something does happen, your grandparents will be there for you." He reassured.
"I don't like Grandpa and Grandma's hut. It always smells like shit." She huffed.
"Language!" Her father said in a warning tone, his daughter quickly apologizing. "And you don't like the thought- I get it. Just know this world isn't all bad; there are ponies like your grandparents that are kind, and you can depend on them. Also, it's generally a bad idea to bad mouth those closest to you." He joked. " Hey, If you want, we can think about moving to a remote spot far away from the village where we all can live safely."
An avid shake of Storm Breaker's head blurred the filly displeased visage at the offer, "No! The village is fine! Nopony can't mess with us if they wanted to!" She said, her eyes spinning dizzily after her head stopped shaking.
Swift Strike laughed at the filly's expense, ruffling her mane with a hoof, "You have compelling arguments, honey. I can't disagree" He chuckled. "Alright, it's time for my little protector to take her nap, come on now." Pulling a thin blanket at the end of the mat over Storm Breaker as she laid down, the old stallion lightly pecked her forehead. "Sleep well, and may the goddess grant you pleasant dreams." He whispered.
As the old stallion walked away, Storm Breaker slowly closed her tired eyes and snuggled deeper into the mat with a satisfied hum.
Hopefully, those scary nightmares didn't return.
The warrior woke up with a start, a sharp gasp escaping her as she shot up in the soft-slab support.
However, her action was stopped as the restrained yanked on her limbs, electing a grunt from the warrior as she fell back down. As the seconds ticked, the warrior's startled nerves gradually settled with every labored breath, cold sweat covering her aching frame. Her eyes scanned the surrounding area to find her foal hood hut was replaced by the strange room, a disappointed scowl returning. Light from the invisible barrier leaked into her room, with the overhead lights now darkened, revealing white, frosted rectangles. The beeps of the irritating machines hadn't changed. And the absence of the shaman pony quelled some of her panic.
"A…dream?" She mumbled, holding back a gag at the words spoken in her new language. When did she fall asleep?
Nevertheless, dreams of that sort were never present since her village's destruction, only useless nightmares of past deeds and that day played in her sleeping mind. Maybe she should've been happy or glad to experience something other than nightly torture. But the feeling of longing and confusion masked those positive emotions. With her body overheating, cold sweat coating soaking fur, and unfocused senses after all the sleeping she'd done: the dream was probably caused by the fever currently kicking her flank.
The warrior scoffed at that; even her own body was taunting her in this situation.
Well, if she had the chance to recover somewhat and not constantly sleep, she would do something about it!
Annoyed and bored out of her mind, the warrior did her best to sit up in her patted support, managing to get her upper back against the rear wall; If she couldn't retreat from the room, she might as well survey the damage.
Awkwardly backing her head and lowering it, the warrior bit down on the bandages covering her chest and began to pull. Strip by strip, the tasteless white cloth flew away from her chest and onto the ground or her lap, slowly uncovering a large scar. Once all the bandages she could rip off were removed, the warrior couldn't help but wince at a raw patch of flesh where the alicorn's bolts struck- air hitting the wound made the warrior hiss in discomfort. If this is what several of the magic bolts did to her chest, hopefully, her face wasn't too damaged, but that was wishful thinking.
The warrior swiftly pulled the white sheet over her scar before sighing. Even if the unicorns holding her captive used their magic, she doubted they'd used any more magic to heal her, or that the wound would mend itself enough for her escape with some energy. No matter how the warrior spun her situation to favor her, there was no sign of avoiding the inevitable meeting with this unicorn princess.
"It's generally a bad idea to bad mouth those closest to you."
Hearing the words of her dream father echo in her mind, the warrior growled in exasperation; While his advice didn't exactly fit her current affair, she cursed the implication.
For once in her life, ever since joining the vanguard, she had to communicate with the enemy and not immediately end their life. What has it been? Ten, maybe twenty, winters when she last talked to a peaceful pegasus or unicorn; she couldn't remember. Hades, she could barely have a decent conversation with her comrades, let alone another race.
"I can only pray that the goddess gives me luck in this endeavor, and I may make it out alive." She said just as a familiar click came from the room's door.
Looking over with a defensive glare, the warrior watched as two gold-plated ponies walked in with spears at the ready. They stopped once they reached the far left corner of the warrior room, eyeing her with suspicious glares- she gladly returned the look. Silence overtook the room, muffled voices arguing from beyond the door briefly before stopping; the sound of clopping hooves approached the open doorway. Entering the room were three ponies, one of which was the lavender unicorn, who flinched when the warrior's glare momentarily landed on her before moving to the extra two.
But as the warrior's eyes landed on the largest one of the trio, she felt her breath hitching in her throat at their ivory-white features.
Other than her golden accessories and wavy, multi-colored mane/tail, all the courage and hate evaporated from her heart, replaced by a feeling of dread. "It's nice to meet you; I am Princess Celestia. Welcome to Equestria." She introduced herself.
She had both wings and a horn.