WASTELAND! With Horses - Chapter 6

>from where you stand you can see the entirety of the new city limits of Canterlot marked with red fences
>the inhabitable portion of the once great city is now more like a quiet village than a teeming metropolis
>you'd go so far as to say that it's smaller than Ponyville
>the ivory towers within the borders have become dingy and grey
>the clean slate streets have become faded and strewn with litter
>a single lamppost is flickering lamely from the dimmed Sun and the shade of a nearby skyscraper with broken windows
>what you see inside the fence doesn't compare to what you see outside, however
>beyond the fence you can see that great, towering, pearlescent skyscrapers have tumbled in on themselves and are now scattered across the ground in the form of rubble
>the golden windowpanes that once bejeweled the most magnificent city in the world appear to have been picked apart, and the metal that once made them up is now shimmering faintly like a dying fire
>and of course, the brilliant palace that once housed Princess Celestia now stands cowed and deformed, like so much melted wax
>fortunately, none of that extreme destruction is inside of the border
>your geiger counter is giving you a gentle warning of radioactivity nearby, and you know to keep away from those fences
>you can't see a single soul milling about
_"Is there anyone here?"
~"There's only one way to find out."
>Red deftly spins her pistol on the tip of her hoof by its trigger guard
"Indeed there is. Let's head to Horseshoe Street. That's where the pub is."
~"Awwww yeee! Let's get shitfaced!"
>you head down a main road to see if you can't find Horseshoe Street
"No, no, no, no, no. We're going to see if there's anyone still in town, say hi to the locals, and maybe deliver that letter to Skull Squisher if he's in there."
~"I'm not seeing where any of that necessitates sobriety."
/"Ve are varriors, kamerad. We must be held to a higher standard."
~"Uh, hello? Pirate here. Certified warrior reporting in. Rum was a way of life on the high seas."
>wait a minute
>someone is missing
"Where's Sketchy?"
_"I'm right -eh- behind you."
>Sketchy is limping along weakly about twenty feet behind you
"Oh dear. Is your bum still bothering you, dear?"
~"Yeah, are you bumbothered there, friend-o?"
_"N-no! I'm fine!"
~"Are you sure? You seem a little rectum ravaged!"
>you're not entirely sure why Red is giggling so much
_"I said I'm fine!"
>Red falls to ground and laughs openly
~"This is pathetic."
/"I vill take care of it."
>Aryanne trots back to Sketchy
/"Up, on mein back again."
>Sketchy sighs, then complies
_"I-I'm fine with going to the pub, but can we maybe stop by the clinic afterward?"
~"There's no cure for butthurt, Sketchy."
_"That's something Anon says! You said you didn't like him!"
~"So? I can still use his retarded jokes."
"Oh, is that imbecile what this stupid giggling is about?"
_"He's not an imbecile! He's-"
>finally, you see the sign marked "Horseshoe Street"
"There it is! It's down this way."
>you do a flawless facing movement to rotate in the direction of Horseshoe Street and march forward
~"Ugh, can you please not do that? Marching was the worst part of basic training. I'm so glad I'll never have to- Not you too!"
>Aryanne, with Sketchy still on her back, has come up abreast of you and is perfectly in step with your marching
>she's wearing a great big smile and glancing back at Red
"Form up now, darling. We do have to be uniform, you know."
~"No! Hell no!"
"Ah, you're lucky. The pub's right there."
>you break rank to approach the door
>you knock on it and an eyeslot near the top slams open
>two bloodshot eyes the color of vomit glare out at you
>"What do you want?"
"Good afternoon, ma'am. My companions and I would like to enter your fine establishment."
>"Sorry, we don't serve mutants."
"Wha- mutant? I'm no mutant!"
>"What on earth is wrong with your face then?"
"I-it's just, you know, dirty. Mutant guts and what not."
>"That's even worse! That's unsanitary! Ponies eat here! Just because the world has ended doesn't mean we need to lower our standard of cleanliness. Wash your filthy face and try again!"
"B-but-"
>the slot slams shut
~"Good going there, Lady Grossalot."

"Well, it certainly is still Canterlot. All right. Change of plan. We take Sketchy to the clinic, and then we go to the pub."
~"Aw, come on, I wanna get shitfaced. At least let me stay."
"We're not getting shitfaced. And we're not leaving you alone again after what happened last night."
~"Hey, that could've happened to anyone!"
"Shut up, I'm trying to think. What street was the clinic on again?"
/"Celestia Boulevard."
"Right. Celestia Boulevard."
>you start heading back up to the main road to see if you can find what you're looking for
~"Oh, now I know we're getting shitfaced. You totally need a drink, Rube."
"Not listening."
~"Oh, come on; you're way too uptight. You gotta relax sometimes."
>just don't reply
>she'll get bored eventually
~"Aryanne, tell me in complete honesty that you've never needed to just sit down with a bottle of good rum."
~"I prefer beer."
>you're close enough now to the main road that you can see it
>apparently the main road is Celestia Boulevard
~"How 'bout you, Sketch? What keeps you warm in those lonely nights?"
_"Usually a blanket."
>you turn onto the boulevard and spy a white building with a red cross crudely painted onto the side
>that's probably it
"This way."
~"What? You mean you never just sat down and gotten plastered? Ruby, are you listening? Sketchy's never drank before; it'd practically be cruelty to deny her the chance now!"
_"I'm not really old enough…"
~"Pfft, like that stupid shit matters now. The princess is dead. We're all adults here."
/"How old are you, Sketchy? You are very light."
>Sketchy waves her head around in consideration
_"It doesn't really matter."
~"That's okay, kiddo. You can be like the baby sister of the squad."
_"O-okay."
"Here's the clinic; I am knocking on the door."
>you do so, and it bursts open promptly
>a wrinkly old stallion with a bulbous snout and curley hair greets you
>"Oh me, oh my. It does appear you've got the Wasteland Herpes, my dear. You should really be more careful about who you spend the night with. Fortunately, I can cure you. For a fee, of course."
"What? N-no! No, that's just dirt.
>Dr. Saddleberg looks disappointed
>"Oh. Well, what are you here for, then?"
"My friend here; she took a nasty hit from a mutant cactus, and now she's having trouble walking. And also, do you have a restroom I can use to clean up?"
>Dr. Saddleberg steps outside and looks over Sketchy's butt
>"Ahh, yes. A mutant cactus, you say? I've never met anyone who's encountered one; you simply must tell me about it."
"So you'll help me?"
>"Of course, of course. For the low price of 50 bits. Plus 5 extra to use my restroom. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes sir, we do."
>you fork over 55 bits
>he counts each one meticulously and looks up
>"Everything looks in order. Please do come in; the restroom is just to the left over there."
"Thank you."
>and with that, you rush to the latrine
>you turn on the sink and scrub the water into your face with your hooves
>after about ten minutes it comes out and you're positively glowing
>no, wait, you're literally glowing
>no, actually, your face is just red
>you poke it and wince
>it kind of hurts
>could this be a serious problem?
>you walk out of the latrine and find the operating room
>Sketchy is lying face down on a table with her ass in the air, and she's currently sighing in pleasure
/"… is zat a Griffish name?"
>oh dear Sun please no
>"Why, Griffish? Of course not. I don't have feathers, do I?"
/"So you're not part Griffon or anything of zat sort, zen?"
>"No. In fact, my name is Germaneian. Sometimes Griffons have Germaneian names because a lot of them lived in Germaney before the establishment of Griffonstone."
/"You are Germaneian zen?"
>"Well, my grandfather was. He spoke a lot like you do."
>you decide to intervene before she starts in on the Griffish conspiracy
"Well then, it seems like everything is in order?"
>"Yes, indeed it is, I'd- say, is that sunburn?"
"Sunburn? I don't think so."
>he pokes your face and thinks for a moment
>"No, that's definitely sunburn. But weren't you just covered in dirt right there? It was dirt, right?"
"Well, no, it was mutant blood."
>"Screamer? Desert pony? Or what?"
"Both."
>"Goodness gracious. Definitely sunburn then."
"What? How is that possible?"
>"Mutant blood is radioactive, my dear. And the chief form of radiation these days is solar radiation. Yes, I know. Most ponies assume solar radiation can't cause mutations, but they're quite wrong as you can see by the world around you today."
"So it causes sunburns then?"
>"Indeed it does. The surest sign that you're taking on too much radiation is the appearance of sunburn. It's not harmful at first, but when it starts to blister you need to watch out; that's when radiation poisoning is starting to set in. Too much longer and you'll either die, mutate, or go sterile."
"Well, thank you for that information, sir."
>"Oh, it's no problem at all. And your little friend here should be good to go right about now. If you ever need a doctor, I'll always be right here for you."
"Thank you, sir. We'll keep it in mind."
>you get back outside and breathe in the warm desert air of Canterlot

"All right. Now we can get back over to the pub."
~"And get shitfaced!"
/"Are you feeling better, Sketchy?"
>Sketchy sticks her ass in the air, stretches her glutes hard, and sighs
_"I feel brand new!"
"Great. So we can all walk there."
~"Hell yeah, let's go. I am thirsty."
>she's already starting off in the direction of the pub
>you overtake her
"We're not drinking! Even if it weren't an awful idea, we don't exactly have unlimited bits here."
>Red sighs
~"All right, fine. So what are we gonna do in the pub?"
"We're going to find something to do. Maybe find some way to get bits along the way. And don't forget, the brakepony promised a reward if we delivered his letter to Skull Squisher, who is ostensibly waiting for us in the pub."
_"Why can't we just sell some stuff at the shop?"
/"Vat do ve have to sell?"
~"No, Sketchy's got a point. When you're adventuring, you always pick up random shit you don't need that's only good for selling."
>you turn onto Horseshoe Street and see the pub
"Well, hopefully we can get in there without any trouble."
~"Wasn't that trouble your fault?"
"Irrelevant."
>a click from behind you
>"Sorry, ladies. You already got trouble. Drop the bags."

>you know what to do
>you've got to say something that'll surprise him just long enough for you to take action
>there can't be a moment's hesitation
>you've got it
>the greatest one-liner of all time
>or at least the greatest you can think of right now
"I really hope you're just suicidal."
>"Wh-what?"
>it's now or never
>you wheel around and whip your pistol out, and you pray to whatever is left of the Sun that he's not thinking quick enough to shoot you
>apparently your line was pretty good, because he isn't
>you aim your gun at an overweight, blue stallion who aims his own gun right back at you
>he's wearing a blue denim vest and blue sunglasses
>his face is covered with a scraggly, black beard, and the top of his head is adorned with a small crop of the same color
>he looks beyond tacky
>he regains his composure and realizes what you've done
>"Looks like we're stuck in a stand-off, Ranger."
~"Not fucking quite."
>your teammates also realize what you've done, and they're taking full advantage of it
>your adversary frowns deeply, and his eyes dart about nervously
>you've got three pistols and one assault rifle pointed straight at the denim thug
>you're also more or less the only law enforcement in all of Canterlot
>you can blow this fucker straight to Tartarus and loot his corpse right now if you want to

>but you decide not to kill him
>you smirk as your brain formulates the prrrfect punishment for the denim thug
"Drop the bag."
>"What?"
>you shake your gun
"I said, 'Drop the bag!'"
>"Oh, come on! I-I-I-I was just… kidding! I was kidding, man! Geez, can't you Ranger types ever take a joke? Heh heh heh."
>you magic your gun forward til its muzzle is pressing into the stallion's fat cheek
>he drops his gun
>"FUCK! Fine! Take my fucking bag! Just get that fucking thing out of my face!"
>he bucks his hips and his saddlebag tumbles to the ground
>you whisk both his bag and his gun over to you, but you keep your pistol on his face
>"WHAT DO YOU WANT? I GAVE YOU MY FUCKING SHIT!"
"If I ever see you again…"
>you jab the gun into his face a little more to get your point across
"I'll fucking kill you."
>this is too much for the simple thug
>he shrieks and dashes away as quickly as his stocky legs can take him
>soon he's out of sight, and the only trace he was ever before you is the sound of his retreating screaming
~"Hahaha! Nice! Did you see the look on that guy's face? We totally wrecked that guy! And we got all his stuff! Ha! I told you before, Rube, you'd make a great pirate!"
"Thanks."
>Aryanne hisses into your ear
/"Vhy did you not kill him?"
>you whisper back
"I couldn't do it. I've never killed a pony before. I just can't shoot someone who isn't actively trying to kill me."
/"He vill go on to attack others. He vill likely kill some of zem."
"I don't think so. I think we taught him a good lesson right there."
/"Ponies like zat don't learn."
>an exclamation from Red interrupts the hushed conversation
~"Whoa! This gun is a nine-mil! Ruby, please! You gave Aryanne the EQ; let me have this thing!"
/"Take it."
"You can have it, Red."
~"Nice!"
>Aryane stares into your eyes
/"I disagree vith vhat you have done."
"You don't have to agree with me. You just have to do what I say. Besides, what the hell do you know about 'ponies like that'?"
>Aryanne opens her mouth, ready to tell you exactly what she knows about ponies like that
>but she closes it, choosing instead to glare deeply at you
/"Not all of us can be sveet and innocent, Ruby."
>with that, Aryanne turns away from you
>sounds like she's got issues
>maybe you should try to talk to her about it later
>for now, you satisfy yourself with your loot
>Red and Sketchy have already dumped the cargo of the right saddlebag onto the ground and are digging through it
>Red has already claimed five large clips, which you assume are meant to compliment her new gun
>Sketchy has found a small hatchet and has that at her side
>the remainder is all jewelry
>you dig through the jewels and examine them
>none of them have any unusual properties like your rings do
>but they'll definitely fetch a pretty price should you choose to sell them
>the left bag is still unopened
>you remedy that and dump its contents on the ground
>this elicits four gasps
>it's full of bits
>absolutely nothing but bits
"Thieving's evidently a profitable business."
~"Hell yeah it is!"
"Shut up, Red."
>wait
>these aren't all bits
>you pick one up and examine it
>it's not gold
>rather, it's silver
>white, cold silver
>just like the hoof ring from the desert pony
>ping
>the bit has transformed into a thin hoof ring
>apparently, it's something like the golden chastity belts from the varmint uprising too
_"Hey, how'd you- whoah…"
>your squad mates can see the magical metal up close now too
>it looks like about a quarter of all the bits from that bag are silver counterfeits
~"This is beyond wierd."
/"Is zis not ze same metal from zat ring you found zis morning?"
"It is."
>a pause with more pregnancy than a Detrot high school ensues
>you scoop up the bits and jewelry and put them into your own bag
"Well, maybe it's a Canterlot thing. We can ask someone in the pub about it."
>your squad seems to quietly approve of this plan, so you go to knock on the pub door once more
>the slot opens
>"You again. All right, let me see."
>the pair of eyes inspects every member of the party
>"Didn't I tell you that we do not serve mutants?"
"Indeed you did, and none of us is a mutant. Let us in."
>"Oh, none of you is a mutant, hm? Explain the bald thing then."
"Bald thing? Sketchy? She's not a mutant. She's just…"
>actually, you're not sure why she doesn't have a mane, a tail, or a cutie mark
>you turn back to Sketchy to let her finish the sentence for you
_"U-u-uhm…"
>another voice from behind the door comes to your aid
>"Don't serve mutants? Bullshit you don't serve mutants! Hey boys, doorman says Spot don't serve mutants. Guess us lot gotta get outta here!"
>the eyes squint
>"Oh, come now! They're outsiders!"
>"Outsiders? Lemme see."
>the first pair of eyes disappears from the slot and is replaced with a trio of eyes
>you blink
>yes, three eyes see you from that slot
>"Oh, you idiot. Those aren't outsiders. They're Rangers!"
>the door explodes open
>you're greeted by a somewhat intoxicated stallion with, as you're now sure you saw earlier, three eyes
>"Come on in, ladies. And thank you for your service."

>you step inside before anyone can tell you to go away again
>the three-eyed pegasus stallion smiles
>"There you are. Welcome to Spot's. Over there at the bar you'll see Spot servin' drinks."
>a gangly earth stallion with a single spot over his right eye waves at you from the bar
>"On that stage there we got some entertainment. Dancers. They're real good. Mutie cuties too."
>on the stage, some mares with minor mutations writhe to the rhythm of a slow flute
>your guide stares at them for a bit longer than you're comfortable with
>"Lemme see, Skull Squisher's been waitin' for somethin' in that corner over there all day. Don't see that type here to often. Givin' me the damn heebie jeebies."
>a figure obscured by a large vest and a larger hat sits alone at a table with an untouched, cloudy drink
>"And, uh, over there is my crew. Old Guardsponies. Retired before it all happened, didn't have the sense to get out with the Captain. Didn't turn out so good for all of us."
>clearly not, as many of the three-eyed stallion's companions also bear minor mutations
>a stallion waves at you with his extra right foreleg
>"Say, you ladies know the Captain? 'Course you do. I know he went down to Ponyville to start your little Ranger club. Some other Rangers came up and told me so. 'Course, all the other Rangers I seen are old Guardsponies too. You four don't really look the type."
>you open your mouth to explain
>but this fellow seems to have it all figured out
>"'S prob'ly for the better anyhow. He was gonna run outta old Guard anyhow, this'll keep the flame goin' into the future, man."
>it occurs to you that, in spite of the heavy mutant presence in the pub, the mutants are very heavily outnumbered by normal ponies
>this leads you to two conclusions:
>firstly, the danger of Canterlot's radiation is real, but it's not so real as to affect everyone it touches
>secondly, this pub must contain nearly every single pony in inhabitable Canterlot
"Goodness. Is everypony in town crammed in here?"
>"Damn near. Say, how 'bout a round? To the first Ranger recruits ever. Passin' on the flame and whatnot."
>it's blatantly obvious that this fellow is very inebriated already
>Red leans so close to you that the tip of her snout actually enters your ear
~"C'mon, Rube. It'd be rude to say no."
"Now, Red. I have heard all of your arguments, and I have carefully weighed them-"
~"Come oooooon!"
>you cough
"And I have come to the conclusion that we should indeed partake in the consumption of alcoholic beverages in this fine establishment."
>"'Aaaaat'sa spirit. Bar's this way."
>as if you couldn't see it from where you stood
>you make it over to the bar
>Spot smiles and lays out some menus before you
>"Check it out, ladies. Let me know when you're ready."
>your choices are
>SNAKE SQUEEZINS - 10 bits
>BLACK SLUDGE - 15 bits
>CACTUS JUICE - 15 bits
>SUNNY DELIGHT - 20 bits
>COFFEE - 5 bits
>INFO COSTS TOO, FEEL FREE TO ASK
~"Where's the rum?"
>"Rum?!"
"What Red means to say is that your menu is somewhat unusual."
>"Welcome to the end of the world. We make do with what we've got."

>hm, let's see
>snake squeezins? black sludge?
>that sounds disgusting
>cactus juice?
>egh, you're not feeling up to consuming cactus after that attack this morning
>the sunny delight sounds safe enough
"Can I try the sunny delight?"
>"Mare with rare taste. I can appreciate that."
~"Is the black sludge anything like rum?"
>"Not really. I think it used to be beer."
/"I'll take zat."
~"Eh, I ate a snake once in Deadhorse Cay…"
"That's disgusting."
~"Nah, it was pretty okay. Gimme some snake squeezins."
_"U-um, can I just have some coffee?"
~"Oh no, you're not pussying out of this. I refuse to allow my friend to go her entire life without knowing liqueur’s tender embrace!"
"I think that's the most articulate sentence I've ever heard from you."
~"That's because this is serious business."
>"The coffee's alcoholic too."
"Ew, why?"
_"Friend?"
>"It's a pub, we sell alcohol here. And what with Equestria being a desert wasteland and all these days, we have to get a little creative if we want any variety on the menu."
~"Ha! No getting out of it now!"
_"I guess I'll try the… cactus juice?"
>"Good stuff. Squeezed a fresh new batch of it just today. That'll be 60 bits."
>you place the appropriate amount of coins on the bar
>Spot takes them and smiles
>"Hold on here and I'll bring your drinks out."
>Spot is only gone for a moment before coming back with a tray carrying four drinks
>he sets your drink in a scratched glass mug before you, and you thank him and examine the beverage in front of you
>it's mostly clear, but with a tint of whitish-yellow
>for what your expectations were, it seems normal enough
>satisfied with your examination, you take the glass to your lips and a sip of the liquid to your tongue
>you're met with an excruciating sensation of burning
>you spit out the liquid, drop the glass, and wretch
>"Hey, hey, hey! Don't spill the Sunny D! We don't have an unlimited supply, you know!"
"What's in that stuff?"
>"It used to be vodka. When we found this place it was in a big stack of crates outside; the previous owners left it sitting in the Sun when all the shit went down."
"Do you mean to tell me that this is radioactive?!"
>"Yeah, which is why I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste it. I can't exactly make another cataclysm happen to make more."
>Spot grumbles to himself as he cleans up your mess
>Red looks at you
>she holds a chipped wine glass filled with translucent, green liquid in her hoof
>and she holds pure smug in her eyes
"Shut up, Red. I'm going to give that letter to Skull Squisher now. Enjoy your snake venom."
>Spot looks at you and frowns, but he doesn't say anything
~"Hey, if you're running off, leave some bits with us so we can get another round."

"Knock yourself out, darling."
>you grab about 50 bits from your bag and dump them in front of Red
>"I mean, not literally. Don't- don't literally knock yourself out drinking."
~"Oh, relax. It's gonna take a lot more than two rounds to put me out."
/"Ja! -hic- Ve vill be fine over here. Go, go, go."
>Aryanne's pure white muzzle is stained a black almost as thick as the half-finished stein of sludge in her hoof
>her demeanor seems to belie her words
>but there's no way one single round could actually put down a big mare like Aryanne
>right?
"All right. You girls drink responsibly now."
>the girls don't hear you though
>because Red has noticed that Sketchy hasn't touched her cactus juice yet
>you turn to start moving before things get embarrassing
~"C'mon, Sketch, you gotta actually drink the shit to get shitfaced."
_"I-I'm really, really not old enough for this…"
/"Trink! Trink! Trink! Trink!"
>the sound of your comrades fades into the background noise of the pub as you walk away
>you come upon the table in the corner where Skull Squisher sits, motionless
>Skull Squisher doesn't respond to your presence, so you take a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the table
"Um, hello?"
>Skull Squisher's ten-gallon hat jerks up, revealing its occupant to be a teal unicorn
>and, to your surprise, a mare
>"What? What do you want?"
"Uh, are you, uh, Skull Squisher?"
>"Yeah, that's me. What? Oh, I know what you're thinking. You thought I'd be a stallion. Wanna see why they call me 'Skull Squisher?'"
"Not particularly."
>Skull Squisher swings her hind legs up onto the table, crossed for decency
>before you is the the most muscular pair of haunches you've ever seen
"That's… great."
>"You see that guy over there?"
>she jabs her hoof in the direction of a stallion whose head is noticeably thinner than what seems proportionate
"No, no, I refuse to believe-"
>"He thought he was gettin' laid."
"I really don't want to hear the story."
>"Ah, you're too friggin innocent. You oughtta lighten up sometimes. What can I do ya for?"
"I have a letter for you. From the brakepony of the Train Tribe."
>"Oh, shit, the trainies are in town?"
"At the base of Canterlot Mountain, yes."
>"Hot dog! What a fun bunch those train ponies are. Where's the note?"
>you procure it from your bag
>"All right. Set it down on the chair."
"Which chair? Not the table?"
>"The chair you're sitting on, obviously."
"N-not the table?"
>"On the fucking chair, holy fucking Sun, just put it on the damn chair."
>okay
>you scoot over a little and set the note down next to you
>"Did Brakes tell you there was a reward in it for you?"
"Yes."
>"All right. When you get back to the Train camp, go to the Abaco tent and tell the guardspony 'bad dragon'. The Abacos are a good bunch; they'll get you something pretty."
>Skull Squisher takes a draught from her cloudy drink and slams it back onto the table
>"All right. I'm out. See ya around."
>Skull Squisher springs from her reclining position and lands on all fours on the pub floor
>she magics the note into her grasp, and she takes her over-sized thighs and leaves with an air of dignity about her
>you get up too, and look in the direction of the bar
>there are too many ponies in the way; you can't see your squadmates from here
>a hoof pokes into your side, causing you to flinch and utter an exclamation that vaguely sounds like an "eep"
>"I no like de way you do your mane, zaftig."
>you turn to see a lanky unicorn stallion with a pink mohawk and green goggles, all clad in neon glowsticks, waving a bowie knife in your face with his magic

>you back away from the knife somewhat
>with about a foot between your face and that knife, you feel safe enough to feel a little insulted
>you flit your pretty red mane with your hoof
"Now, why would you not like the way I do my mane, sir?"
>the colorful stallion grunts and moves the knife closer to your face
"W-w-well, now, how about we put that knife away?"
>you raise up your hoof to gently nudge the floating knife away from you
"And how about you tell me about how you do your mane? It certainly seems odd for a pony with such an… unconventional mane to be criticising a mane that's much more… in-line with the standards of the fashion world."
>"You say you think your mane better than mine? Is that what you say to me?"
"Well, no, not in as many words, per se, I just mean to say that-"
>"I work for Bard! I don't have to take this disrespect from outsider!"
>he swings his knife in a wild arc
>you nimbly evade the worst of the blow
>but a burning sensation in your cheek tells you that the knife must have grazed your face
>he's preparing for another swing

>you leap back away from the knife again
>the distance gives you enough time to whip out your pistol
>without thinking about it, you aim and fire
>a ragged, red hole pulsates in the base of the stallion's neck
>a torn glowstick necklace slowly leaks luminescent liquid into the open wound
>it's enough
>the stallion gasps and hits the floor hard
>you look down to examine your handiwork
>the first pony you've ever killed
>the first, you suppose, of many
>you notice now that, in spite of all the ponies around you, your action hasn't galvanized any of them to action
>indeed, they don't seem to care, or even to notice
>a hoof rests itself on your shoulder
>you look up to see the three-eyed stallion looking down at you
>"You know, when I was in the Guard, we didn't have guns. Those only got mass-produced and issued during the war; before that they were just sort of a novelty. But whether you use a spear or a bullet, I can recognize a pony who's just made her first kill."
"Why did he attack me like that?"
>"Looks like one of Bard's gangsters. Those punks think they own this town."
>he closes his three eyes and sighs
>"And ever since they kidnapped the mayor, they have owned this town."
"They kidnapped the mayor?"
>"Sure did. Her and her kid. By the Sun, I'd go after Bard if I were a younger pony. Goodness knows me and the old Guard did our best to keep thugs like him from running this town before the war."
>he pauses for a moment
>"Say, is that why you came up here? To put Bard and his gang down?"
"No, we didn't know. We didn't have any particular goal in mind when we came up here; we just figured we could help ponies. I- I'll discuss this with my squad."
>"Bless your heart. Best of luck to you, whatever you decide to do."
>he canters off back to his old Guard club
>right, well, it's high time you got back to your team anyway
>even if the rest of the pub's customers didn't react to you shooting that stallion, at least those three should have done something
>you finally get to a position where you can see the bar
>Aryanne is slouched over, unconscious, onto the bar's top
>Red and Sketchy are nowhere to be seen
>Spot notices you
>"There you are! Can you get your friend outta here please? She's drooling all over my bar!"

>you march right over to Aryanne and slam your hoof down on her shoulder
>her eyelids fly open and her head launches vertically
/"KANNT VAKE UP"
"Aryanne, you are the second mare on this team. Do you know what that means?"
/"I-i-ich… is it you, kamerad… Ru… Roo… r-r-… Fuhrer?"
"It means you are supposed to take control of the team when I am not around."
/"V… vhere are de ozhers? Ze bald one and your sister?"
"That's exactly my point! They're gone! And Red isn't my sister."
/"She looks… just like du."
"Goodness, Aryanne. Just how much did you drink?"
>Spot chimes in
>"Ah, she only got one. That's more than most ponies can handle though; that black sludge is strong stuff."
"You told her it was beer."
>"It was beer! And then the Sun fell down and evaporated most of the water from it and made it into a super concentrated sludge."
"And you sell this poison in giant mugs?"
/"No ist mug… ist stein."'
>"Yeah, it's a pub. Poison's what we sell."
>you groan deeply
"Where did the others go?"
>"Eh… lemme think. Your sister went wandering off toward the back of the pub. And your mutant friend passed out too, but a nice young mare came along and picked her up. One of our waitress' daughters; real sweetie."
"Firstly, Red's not my sister, and Sketchy's not a mutant."
>"I don't really care. Just get blondie outta here before she messes up my counter."

"Which waitress am I looking for?"
>"Oh, her name is, uh, Nelly. Now would you mind?"
"All right, all right, We're going."
>you struggle to get the thoroughly shitfaced Aryanne's foreleg wrapped around your shoulder
"Up, up, up."
/"-hic-"
>you practically haul the heavy earth pony out of her stool
"Lean on me now, darling. That's it. We're just going to go find Red now."
/"I do not like kamerad Red."
>she shifts her weight onto your back and walks alongside you at a slow pace toward the back of the pub
"Don't say that now."
/"B…but… vhy?"
"Well, it, it isn't nice."
/"Oh… ja…"'
>the path toward the back leads through a labyrinth of tables and ponies
>you're heading in the general direction of the dancing mares on the stage
>the stage is a sort of lowered platform, where ponies can stand around and look down at their entertainment
>and there is indeed a sizeable crowd of ponies doing exactly that
>which makes navigation all the more treacherous for you
>now, as far as you can tell, Red is neither on the lowered stage nor in the crowd
>but a little ways past them you can see a door decorated with stars, a crescent moon, and a heart
>oh no
>you swear to the fucking Sun, if Red is in there-
>a horrible /HURK from just above your head interrupts your thoughts
>something wet, thick, and black has splattered all over your mane
>the force of it knocks you down and sends you, Aryanne, and a few unfortunate bystanders sprawling onto the stage
>the minorly mutated dancers take one look at the writhing mess of pony and vomit, shriek, and run
/"A-apologie… No feel well…"
>someone in the crowd evidently rejects Aryanne's drunken repentance
>"You're gonna not feel well if you don't do something entertaining real soon here! You two just scared off all the dancers!"
>the rest of the crowd around you vocalizes its agreement with the heckler
>frustrated ponies on all sides brandish various vegetable products and glare at you and your hapless companion
>you'd better do something to amuse these ponies if you want to get off of this stage

>oh fuck
>gotta do something, and do it fast
>oh fuck
>you've got an idea
>it might not work, but it's certainly an idea
"Let me show you the dance of my people."
>you fling the vomit from your hair, stand up, and haul Aryanne to her hooves
"Flute player, something high society, if you would."
>the musician toots his flute to the same tune he was playing before
>it's like what those snake charmers play for their dancing snakes
>it's fine and all, but it seems a bit… oriental for what you had in mind
>oh well
>you place a hoof on Aryanne's shoulder and step forward
>she stumbles back and the two of you sway dangerously
>you pull her to the side and step to the left
>she loses her hoofing and would have hit the ground if not for your grip on her
>the dead weight of the drunk Germaneian nearly pulls you off your hooves
>you've danced this Trottingham dance plenty of times at social gatherings
>but, being a mare, you've never had to lead it
>you've also never had a partner who was anything less than fully conscious
>you step back, resulting in Aryanne's face crashing into your chest
>you grunt and stumble back a bit more
>hurriedly, you move to the right, completing the box step
/"V-vas ist this?"
"Ssshhhhhh, just dance with me now, darling."
/"V-vat? Fuhrer, I d…do not-"
"Ssshhhhh. I'll explain when you're sober."
/"Am perfectly… so…"
>her eyes close and her head lolls lazily to the left
>you can hear the crowd chuckling at this
>you step forward for another box step
>Aryanne is completely out of it, she's going down
>with your hoof grabbing her shoulder, you're going down too
>she slips from your grasp and continues falling
>you wildly grasp around and grab her hoof just in the nick of time
>you yank on Aryanne's foreleg as hard as you can
>you pulled too hard; she goes right past you and you lose your grip again
>you frantically snatch her hoof in yours and yank once again
>she's flying right at you
>you rear up onto your hind legs to accept the impact
>Aryanne's belly smashes into yours and her forelegs wrap around your neck
>you wrap your own forelegs around her in an attempt to maintain some semblance of balance
>with your bodies pressed tightly together, you and Aryanne spin across the stage on your hind legs
>your hoof strikes the edge of the stage
>it's all over; you're going down
>you land hard on those steps
>Aryanne lands hard on top of you
>the impacts leave you breathless, and you're trapped underneath your bigger companion while gasping for air
>the music stops
>silence fills the air
>the crowd bursts into uproarious applause
>"TRUE ART"
>"B R A V O R A N G E R S"
>"WHAT DID SHE MEAN BY THIS"
>"You can go on and get outta here. You did real good up there."

>eugh
>you're sweaty, bruised, dizzy, and covered in regurgitated black sludge
>looking around from your spot underneath your drunken comrade, you spot a nearby latrine
>with a mighty heave, you roll Aryanne off of you
/"Mh? Fuhrer? Aren't ve going to dance?"
"We just did. See all the ponies applauding?"
/"Oh… ve did good zen."
"Sure. Um, let's go wash up a bit."
/"Oh, Ruby… I told you I do not-"
"Nonononono, not like that. Come on, you're all covered in vomit."
/"He, he he, vommmmmmmmmit."
>you get up and take Aryanne's hoof in yours
>you attempt to pull her to her hooves, but she falls down again
>you pull again, this time using both your magic and your hoof
>she's up, but her legs aren't responding at all
>you have to haul her over to the latrine, her hooves dragging on the floor all the way
>you eventually make it to the door, which you have to open with your plot because your horn and hooves are both in use
>you enter the room walking backwards, dragging Aryanne along with
>at last, you're in front of a sink
>Aryanne drops unceremoniously to the ground as you let go of her
>she's probably fine, relatively speaking, if the way she's singing in Germaneian is any indication
>you turn on the faucet and begin washing your face and hair
>fortunately it hasn't set very long and it comes out easily
>you wring out the last black drop of water from your mane and step back to admire your work in the mirror
>now for Aryanne
>with celestian effort, you hoist her up and rest her front half on the sink
>you have to hold her in place with one hoof and splash water onto her face with the other
>after some awkward wiping, she looks… pretty much okay
>sort of
>without thinking, you let go of Aryanne so you can stand comfortably
>she collapses onto the ground
>whimpering and snuffling sounds reach your ears
>she's crying
"O-oh, oh, did I hurt you?"
>seeing that you've noticed, Aryanne sobs openly
"No, no, no no no. It's okay."
/"Nein. I am a liar!"
"No, you're not a liar."
/"Ja! I am a liar and a coward!"
"Sshhh, that's not true. You're the bravest and most honest pony I know."
>she pounds on the floor with her hooves
/"Nein! Nein nein nein nein nein!"
>you sigh
"You are, it's true. Come on, get up."
>you offer your hoof
>she takes it and shakily rises
>she throws her forelegs around your neck and weeps into your mane
"I-I just… washed that…"
>you sigh again
"All right. Everything's going to be okay. We're going to find Red and Sketchy, and then everything will be better tomorrow. Yeah?"
/"J-j-j-ja…"
"That's it."
>she lets go of you and stands unsteadily on her own
>you grab the hopelessly drunken earth pony's hoof and lead her out of the latrine like a mother would lead a child
>you open the door and another mare walks past the two of you
~"Hey Ruby."
"Hello."
>after she passes, you walk out into the pub proper
>wait a fucking second
>you whip your head around and see a bushy, red tail through the closing doorway

>you grasp Aryanne in your magic and storm through the bathroom door
>there, at the sink, is Red washing her face and gurgling into the sink water
>she doesn't notice as you approach her
>you raise your foreleg
>a mighty thunderclap punctuates the contact between your hoof and Red's rump, and you pull her toward yourself
~"I'M TOO YOUNG TO GET RAPED"
>Red's teal eyes meet yours, and her defenses drop
>not bothering to mask her North Trottingham accent, she addresses the problem at hand
~"Oh, -hic-, it's just you, Ruby. Heh, y'know, I just got me some, but if it's a rompin' ye fancy…"
"No! No no no! I was just grabbing you! We need to find Sketchy."
~"Grabbin' me, eh?"
"D-d-didn't you say you 'don't lean that way'?"
~"Heh, I don't. Ye're just so adorable when ye're all flustered up like that."
>she makes to pinch your cheek, but her hoof misses the mark by about a foot
>she's not as bad off as Aryanne, but she's pretty wasted
>hopefully she won't remember any of this; if she were sober she would have destroyed you with bantz by now
~"Ah lass, lemme tell ye about that back room. Pure heaven. There's a mutant feller back there, thought he had six legs I did. Turns out he only had five, but lemme tell ye about that sixth leg~"
"I really don't want to know."
>Red chuckles and goes to pinch your cheek again, this time managing to smack you in the nose
>you scrunch your face in protest and knock her hoof out of the air
"All right, no, come along now. We need to find a waitress named Nelly; she knows where Sketchy is."
/"He, he, he… Sketch-che."
>at this moment, a small, grey filly runs into the bathroom, crying
>hot on her hooves is a pair of awfully butch-looking mares wearing denim vests and gray knit caps
>the filly ducks underneath you and cowers
>"Save me, Miss Ranger!"
>the butch mares brandish large, wicked-looking knives

>you look to the hopelessly plastered Aryanne, who's having trouble standing
>you look to the obviously impaired Red, who's evidently prone to poor decision making right now
>all things considered, it's probably safest to try talking to the big, knife-wielding filly-chasers before trying to shoot them
>who knows? maybe they're just playing tag
"Why, hello there ladies. Is there something you, uh, need help with?"
>butch #1, a tan earth pony, rolls her eyes and spits the knife out into her hoof
>she waves it menacingly in your direction
>butch #2, a unicorn, puts her knife into a sheath on her flank and magically retrieves a long, spiked chain from her bag
"L-lovely weapons you have there, darlings. Is this just a sort of, um, showing off thing? W-would you like to see mine?"
>you begin to grab your pistol from its holster
>butch #2 doesn't like that
>she quickly wraps her chain around Aryanne's neck and holds it there loosely
>"Don't. Fucking. Try it."
/"Ehehehehe… -hic- kinke…"
"Oh, so, so, um, so you can talk then? Ah, good. Would you mind explaining to me the meaning of all this then?"
>butch #1 snarls
>"We work for Bard! We don't have to explain anything! Give us that kid!"
>a shot rings out, smashing a picture frame housing a poster about the importance of washing your hooves
>Red stands triumphantly, with one eye half-lidded and a big, goofy grin on her face
~"And we're Rangers! Ye're damn well goin' tae explain tae us!"

>damnit, Red
>you whip out your weapon as quickly as your magic allows
>butch #2 sees this and tightens her grip on her chain
>but she can't pull faster than a bullet can fly
>you yank back the trigger with your neon aura, and a hole appears in her forehead
>without looking to see your adversary fall to the ground, you turn your pistol on butch #1
"Tell me about Bard! Why does he want the filly?"
>she sputters and stammers out an incoherent response
>to help her clear her head, you pull back on your pistol and ready another round
>"She's… she's the fucking mayor's kid! Bard's taking over Canterlot, and we've already got her mother and her sister! Don't… fucking… shoot me!"
>not a lot of loyalty, even for a hired gun
>maybe there's more she can tell you?
>or maybe you should just shoot her right in her stupid, evil, filly-napping head and see if you can't find any info on her carcass

"Little loyalty for a hired dyke!"
>"Wh-what?"
>you fire a round into her face and her eyes glaze over
>before she hits the ground, you manage to unload fourteen more rounds into the butch thug's face
>you're left with an empty clip in your gun and a nasty, pulpy mess of brains and blood at your hooves
~"Talk about beating a dead horse, heh."
/"I am vondering vhy someone vould shoot a mare… before shooting her fourteen more times."
>the grey filly slinks out from underneath you and cuddles up next to Aryanne's drunkenly-immobile form instead
>"I-I'm scared."
"Now is not the time for fear."
>you flip over the headless body in search of anything useful
>there, in her vest's pocket
>a note of some kind
>you grab it in your magic and unfold it
>"Sickle. Forget it again and you won't have a face. ~Kroisos"
>you look down at your vanquished victim
>a little late for that, Mr. Kroisos
>there's a little tap on your hind leg
>it's the little filly
>"C-can you please take me to Nelly now?"
"Nelly? You know her?"
>"She's been taking care of me since my mom and big sister had to go away."
>you wonder if she's honestly unaware that her mother and sister have been kidnapped, or if she's simply pretending to make things seem less horrible
"Well, we were looking for Nelly, too. If we went out there to find her, could you show us who she is?"
>the little grey filly nods
"Well, that's great, darling. Once we find Nelly, we might be able to see about getting your mother to come back."
>the scared little pony doesn't seem so scared any more when you mention that
>"Really? And Silver Locket too?"
"Who now, sweetheart?"
>"My big sister."
>ah, of course
"Of course we can. Say, what's your name now, dear?"
>"I'm Polished Slate. Wh-what's your name?"
"Well, I'm Ruby, and those two over there are my friends, Red and Aryanne."
~"I ain't yer fecken' friend, ye creepy cunt."
"Don't listen to her. She's unwell right now."
>you look around the bathroom one last time before you head out to the pub proper
>is there anything you should do in here before finding Nelly?

>somehow, you feel as though you should check for something in the stalls
>you stick your hoof in the air and puff out your chest to show that you have a declaration to make
"I'm going to flush a toilet."
"Why?"
"Don't question me, Red."
>making a display of the utmost pride and confidence, you stride over to the nearest stall
>with the most tentative of caution, you stick your head inside the stall and peer over the edge of the toilet bowl
>it's occupied by a pile of mushy, bloody, icky gore
>there's even an eyeball on top, staring at you lifelessly
"Ew!"
>you stumble backwards and reach out to the toilet handle with your magic
>*fluuusssshhhhhhh*
>Polished Slate looks at you with wide eyes
>"Did you find what you were looking for, Miss Ruby?"
"I-I don't know…"

>oh, now you know what to do
>the two butch thugs had some neat weapons, so you reckon you'll take those and anything else of interest they might have been carrying
>you grab the fancy knife and the spiked chain and store them in your bag
>it might be a good idea to see if anyone wants them later when everyone is sober
>checking the bags, you find a grand total of 34 more bits
>there are also 10 of those silver bits for some reason, and you pocket those two
>while turning over butch #1, a paper falls out of her vest
>whoever wrote it, most likely the thug herself, had terrible hoofwriting, but fortunately the page only has two big words scrawled on it
>"SICKLE"
>sickle is crossed out
>"PITCHFORK"
>finally, you grab the thugs' denim vests and stuff those in your bag too
>they're not exactly stylish or protective, but you might be able to sell them later
>you turn to your companions, all staring at you with eyes bearing varying degrees of bleariness due to alcohol and/or childhood trauma
>finally, you magically drag the corpses into the stalls, set them up to sit on the toilets, and shut the doors
>whoever comes in here next will find herself waiting a long time for the toilet
"All right. Polished Slate, darling, would you mind taking us out to see Nelly, so we can find our friend?"
>she nods
>"Mhm."
>you open the door and she walks out and looks at you
>Red manages to stumble on through past you
>Aryanne requires magical assistance
>but you all make it out into the pub proper
>if the patrons heard those gunshots a few minutes ago, they sure don't seem to care, judging by the continued merriness of their revelries
>Polished Slate scans the crowd with wide eyes
>finally, she points at a somewhat older earth pony mare with a tan coat and a coffee-colored mane
>she's wearing an apron and wrestling with three different trays of drinks on her back
>Polished Slate calls out to her and waves
>"Nelly!"
>immediately, Nelly allows the trays to slide off her back onto a nearby table, looks in your direction, begins cantering over, and calls back
>"There you are! Who are those mares with you?"

>she's referring to you and your inebriated companions
>oh dear, it would probably make the Rangers look bad if ponies knew that the stumbling, vomiting wrecks beside you were affiliated with them
"Oh, um, us? We're just, um, a band of good-hearted souls passing through the town."
>Nelly gets close enough to make conversation comfortable, and she smirks
>uh oh, looks like maybe she's not buying it
>would it hurt to say something else to distract her?
"There were some thugs chasing this little filly here, so we intervened. Is she yours?"
>Nelly's face goes from smug to panicked in a flash
>she leans down and covers Polished Slate with her forelegs and begins to croon
>"Oh, no, Slate, this is why I told you to stick with me! It's not safe for you out here! You don't wanna end up like your mom and Silver Locket, do you?"
>Polished Slate looks at you and beams
>well, at least you tried to preserve the Rangers' image
>"Mommy and Silver Locket are gonna get rescued! Miss Ruby said so!"
>Nelly's smug returns
>"Ah, is that right? I was just getting to that. Just a couple of random good samaritans passing through town, eh?"
~"Aye. What's so odd about that?"
>Red is trying to shield Aryanne from view, her somewhat less-drunken brain seeming to comprehend what you're poorly attempting to do here
>"Are you trying to go undercover or something? Because if you are, you should probably take that Friendship Ranger regalia off of your saddlebags."
>oh
>is that what gave it away?
>"But I mean, if you're not Rangers, that's really too bad. I sent my daughter home with a Ranger who was too drunk to stand, and so far her squad hasn't come looking for her. Now wouldn't it be unfortunate if her squadmates just up and abandoned her?"
>oh right
>she's seen Sketchy already, just like Spot said
"All right, fine, we're her squad. Please don't hate me for trying to save face."
>"Face?"
>Aryanne collapses into Red and falls soundly asleep on top of her
~"Ach, ye scurvy kraut, get offa me!"
>Nelly realizes, and giggles
>"There's nothing wrong with getting a little shitfaced every now and then. I promise I won't write to the Captain about it."
"How did you even recognize our insignia? The cataclysm, and therefore the formation of our organization, happened less than a year ago!"
>"And the Rangers haven't exactly been doing nothing in all that time. Right after the Sun fell, there were mutants running around every inch of this city. It was a squad of passing Rangers that managed to drive out the mutants from this little zone right here and set up the perimeter. Also, most of you Rangers used to be guards in Canterlot, so the average resident here probably knows about half the ranks personally anyway. You three aren't from Canterlot though, are you?"
"No, Trottingham."
>"All of you?"
"No. The blonde one is from Germaneia. The other one is from North Trottingham, though she's usually better at hiding her accent when she's not severely inebriated."
>"Why hide your accent?"
"I don't know, ask her. When she's sober, I mean."
>"So how 'bout that little bald girl?"
"I don't know where she's from. Would you mind taking us to her? I'm right anxious to get the squad back together."
>"Sure. My shift just ended, we can go right now."
"Hold on."
>Red is still too busy struggling under an unconscious Aryanne to be paying much attention to you or Nelly
>you help Red out by grabbing Aryanne in your magic
>Red pushes up and clambers to her hooves
~"Fokken 'ell she's a big lass."
>you and Nelly end up looping Aryanne's forelegs around your necks to walk out of the pub
>as you go, Nelly waves to Spot
>Spot winks back and continues pouring drinks
>finally, you get outside
>it's a fairly uneventful walk to Nelly's home, which is right next door to the pub
>there was one shady figure lurking nearby, but he eventually backed off
>Nelly offers some wisdom regarding this phenomenon
>"There's an old saying. You don't fuck with your liquor supply."
"I'm pretty sure that's not a saying."
~"'Tis most definitley a sayin'. Booze is a way o' life on the high seas, an' ya gotta lay some rules out to protect it."
>whatever
>Nelly opens the door to her home and lets you in
>it's a small, one-room house
>it looks like it was designed as a house with multiple rooms, but the doorways to the other rooms are pretty well blocked off by rubble
>there are two beds
>on one of them lies the sleeping form of Sketchy
>nearby her stands a young mare, probably only just out of high school
>though she's clearly youthful, that's not her most obvious feature
>her hind legs are missing, and in their place is strapped a set of wheels
>Nelly greets her
>"Wheelie, we found that Ranger's squad, and they found Polished Slate."
>Slate runs up to Wheelie and is rewarded with face nuzzles and a vigorous head rub
>"Mom, that's great! Maybe now we can get the mayor and Silver Locket back!"
>the crippled youth looks up from her small companion into your eyes
>"Hi, I'm Hot Wheels, and I know what you're thinking. I must be some kind of cripple, right? Wrong!"
>she wheels around to show you flank
>there aren't even stubs there, she was most likely born this way
>she slaps a picture of a big, firey wheel on her butt
>"I used to be a wheelchair racer! I'm strong as an ox! Why, I carried your friend over here on my back, all by myself! For all my life, these wheels have never held me back!"
>she looks down
>"Except for recently. These wheels don't navigate rubble very well. Or sand."
>well, you may as well introduce yourself properly now
"It's so nice to meet you, Hot Wheels. My name is Ruby; these two here are Aryanne and Red; and our friend over there is Sketchy. Thank you for grabbing her before anyone else did."
>Polished Slate interjects
>"And now that you've got your team together, you're gonna go rescue Mommy and Locket, right?"
>this excites Wheels greatly
>"Whoah, you really said you were gonna do it? You know, I can help you with that! I know exactly where Bard's hideout is, it's outside the perimeter of the livable area! Everyone is scared of the place because there's a few mutants out there, but I'm not! I tried to get in there myself, but there's just so much rubble these days. Are you really gonna do it?"
>you look at Aryanne, who's slowly sliding off of your neck
>and you look at Sketchy, who's decidedly unconscious right now
>and you look at Red, who's squinting and swaying dangerously
"Uhm… I'm not sure…"
>Wheelie is greatly displeased by your statement
>"Bard's been a pest to this town since before it all went down, and now that he finally rules the place there's not a pony outside of his gang that doesn't want him dead! There'd totally be a huge reward in it for you! Please, Silver Locket is my best friend, you've gotta help her!"
>you look out the window
>the dim Sun hangs low in the sky
"I think what Bard has done is nothing short of the greatest injustice. However, it's getting late, and I'd like to sleep on it and discuss it with my teammates in the morning when everyone is sober. Do you mind if we rest here for tonight?"
>Nelly answers
>"Not at all! Go right ahead and make yourself at home here, and you can figure it out in the morning."
>you thank Nelly, get Aryanne on the bed with Sketchy, help Red find a spot on the floor, and find a spot of your own
>Nelly blows out the house's candle, revealing that it's already dark outside
>you spend what feels like a long time trying to figure out what to do
>mutants, radiation, gangsters?
>is it worth the risk?
>or is taking risks for the sake of others exactly what the Friendship Rangers are for?