Their War
It was a warm summer’s breeze that stirred the air, making the rolling hills of poppies ripple in waves of red and green, swirling like the currents of an earthen-sea around thousands of stark white tombstones. A lone unicorn mare made her way through the forest of graves, her pace slow and unhurried. Sometimes she would pause and linger by one headstone or another; for the most part she simply made her way up and down the lines, marking each name as she passed. She was no longer a young mare, but was not yet elderly either. Her lavender coat covered a frame still fit and hearty; her purple and crimson mane remained undominated by the grey that ran through it. She wore the black and red formal dress tunic of an officer of the Equestrian Armed Forces, its folds pressed to regimental standards and it brass buttons polished to a mirror-like finish. Five golden stars were set to blue shoulder epaulettes. The former marked her rank as a Field Marshall; the latter marked her as retired. The myriad of medals and campaign ribbons that adorned her chest shone in the dying sun as Celestia’s ward made its slow descent towards night.
To a casual observer, the mare’s journey might have appeared without direction beyond simply passing down one line of graves after the next. But appearances can be deceptive, and a closer look would have revealed a searching countenance to the mare. What she searched for could only be guessed at, but her strides were purposeful; deliberate; as though her journey could not conclude until she found what she sought.
Her steps took her up the side of a low hill, one of many rolling mounds of soil that added to the wave-like illusion of the land. A single gnarled willow tree stood watch over the hillside, a mute sentinel guarding the tombstones that stretched for miles in the poppies. At its base was a single grave. It was an unassuming thing: an anonymous white lump of carven rock, identical to every other in shape. Only the name and inscription upon it was unique, as it bore the name, rank, unit, birthplace, and years of its charge. But even in this there was a certain anonymity; after all, the one thing that made this grave unique was the same thing that made every other one unique as well.
Yet it seemed that there was something different about this grave, for here the mare stopped. She examined the white stone with careful eye, staring at it as though her gaze could penetrate to something deeper than rock could normally reveal. Then she quirked a short smile. It was not a happy smile; nor was it simply a mask for grief as one might expect in a cemetery. Rather, there was a fondness to it, and a sadness as well; a sadness so deep that it passed beyond grief into something approaching acceptance.
“Private First Class Indomitable Will,” she read aloud with a slight smirk. “I like the name, but I bet it was quite the mouthful to say. Did you go by ‘Indie,’ I wonder? Or perhaps just ‘Will.’”
The white stone stared back.
“You were a MacBridle native, it looks like,” she added after a moment’s examination, “so perhaps you just went by ‘Willie.’ I rather like that name. Do you mind if I call you ‘Willie,’ my friend?”
Wind rippled through the poppies, the only sound for miles.
“Well, my name’s Twilight, Willie. Twilight Sparkle. From the uniform you can tell I was a Field Marshall, though you might have seen me when I was still just a young Brigadier General, freshly promoted.” She shook her head. “A lifetime ago, I think that was. It’s funny; at the time I thought I was being pushed up the ranks too fast, without a chance to learn first. Now, when I look back, I see that my rise was slow compared to some. Not surprising I suppose, given our casualties those first bitter years. But that’s the nature of war then, isn’t it? You grow old too young, or you never grow old at all.”
The headstone made no response.
With a small sign, Twilight tipped a hoof to her head to remove her cap. “Well, how do you do, young Willie. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you mind if I sit here and enjoy the warm summer sun with you for a bit?” Taking the lack of response as a yes, the aging mare eased herself onto the ground. “I’m not as young as I once was, and I’ve been walking a while. Walking all day really. But . . .” she nodded to herself, responding to some unspoken question, “but I’m nearly done.” She positioned herself so that the headstone was to her right, the etched name facing the same direction as her. Twilight lifted her face to the sky and shut her eyes, smiling as the sun warmed her face, keeping away the chill of the unseasonably cool breeze. After a moment’s quiet, she looked over to the grave, reading its face as she chatted. “I can see by your gravestone you were only nineteen at the battle of Westfoal.” She paused, her eyes flicking back and forth from the grass to the stone as if searching for something. “I hope you died well, Willie. I hope you died clean. There can be a certain mercy in facing a .30 caliber machinegun, I suppose: with your front to the enemy, if the armor doesn’t catch the bullet, then the end is usually quick.” Her gaze drifted down to the earth at her feet. “Sometimes we need our final moments to make peace with our Maker. But if you were ready to go... then I hope it was quick for you, Willie. Too many were just caught in the mud; stepping off the planks into the mire and . . .” she trailed off and blinked several times. “Nopony should have to die like that.”
Poppies swayed and rippled as a gust of wind, stronger than the last, set them to dancing. It was a vibrant redness, and while her first instinct at seeing that color was to see blood, that image didn’t hold for long here. There was a liveliness to the poppies that stood in stark contrast to the markers of death they surrounded. Yet they did not feel out of place.
“Did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?” she asked. “All these decades later, does she still hold your memory close to her heart, preserving you as she last saw you? Nineteen and young, and so very brave?” The unicorn paused to chew her lip. “Or are you a stranger to all but the Heavens, with nopony left to mourn you? No family, and all your friends lying here with you, your only marker this tombstone, and perhaps an old yellowed photograph sealed away somewhere in a forgotten frame.”
She shook her head and gave a wry smile. “Either way, I’ll bet they gave you a grand sendoff. Pipes and drums; a band; a salute. The Guard loves sending its warriors home in the most magnificent way possible.” The unicorn waved her hoof. “Don’t misunderstand; I’m not criticizing or mocking. We should give our best to the soldiers who gave theirs but . . . I sometimes wonder who the funeral is really for? The dead, or the living? After all, your troubles are over. Paradise awaits a good stallion like you, so what can even our finest funerals do to compete with that?” Twilight chuckled. “No, I think it’s at least as much for us as it is for you. A way of trying to balance the scales . . .” Her chuckle turned dark. “But you and I both know that’s a hopeless cause.”
After a moment’s quiet, she laid back and propped herself up on a folded foreleg so as to better stare up at the sky. “It’s a beautiful summer’s day, Willie. The sun shines bright, defying the few clouds in the sky to stop her doing so. The air is warm, and yet the breeze keeps it from being stifling, and the red poppies sway and dance in the wind, rippling and dancing like the waters of a lake after a storm.” Sitting back up, she scratched idly at the ground with her hoof. “It’s still strange, you know? Even after all these years? This place, I mean. Its beauty. I still can’t help but remember the barbed wire; the trenches; the chatter of machineguns; the roar of artillery pounding the earth; and the mud. Endless pools of mud.” She glanced back at the tree. “This willow was probably a young sapling when the War visited this place. It’s a wonder that it survived. Perhaps there’s some lesson in that; about life enduring through death. These poppies sure seem to think so. I’m told that no earth pony needs to tend them. They just . . . grow.” She patted the ground by the headstone. “Or maybe they’re tended to by all of you. Now that’s an interesting thought, don’t you think, Willie?” The retired soldier nodded to herself. “It really is a peaceful place, now. You’d never know the War came here; it might be any old cemetery, after all.” Her nostrils flared. “But I can still smell the War here. Can still taste it. Can still feel it in every stone and every flower.” With her magic she took up a clump of soil and ground it to sand. “Countless white stones in a forest of death, standing in mute testimony to our blind indifference to our fellow beings.” She opened her magic to admit the breeze, allowing it to whip the sand away to parts unknown. When the unicorn spoke again, her voice was husky. “To a whole generation butchered and slain.”
Twilight shivered as a chill ran down her spine. “I can’t help but wonder, Willie. What did you think you were dying for? Your country, of course. Your family. Your friends. But what else? Did you think this would be the end of it? The Great War; the Last War?” She shook her head. “For a time it seemed like everypony believed that: that this War would end Wars. It seemed like it had to. The bloodshed and killing; the valor and disgrace; every atrocity and tragedy; it seemed like it had to be the end of it, because after living through all that how could we ever want to fight again? Even I believed it, once. Or, at least, I wanted to.” Her eyes narrowed. “I wanted to believe that we’d learn our lesson, and never do this to each other again.” She snorted. “I hope you never believed that lie, Willie,” declared the mare, grim. “It was a naïve hope, and we were fools to ever think it possible. Maybe if more ponies had realized that sooner, we would have been better prepared for it the next time.”
The unicorn plucked a poppy from the ground and floated it in front of her face. She seemed to examine it for a time, but her eyes didn’t see the flower. “Because there was a next time, Willie. War, I mean. It at all happened again . . .”
She tore off a petal.
“And again . . .”
Another petal came off.
“And again . . . and again . . . and again, and again, and again, and again, and again—"
With a start she realized that tears had formed in her eyes and the flower had been reduced to shreds. Blushing in remorse, she laid the flower down gently on the earth and wiped her eyes. “Maybe it’s better if you believed the lie, Willie. I’m sure Applejack would disagree. But I can’t help but wonder if maybe giving you some last comfort as you died might not have been kinder.” She sniffed. “But whether you believed it or not, you death wasn’t pointless. It meant something, and you need to know that.” There was a ring of iron in her voice. “Maybe we can’t end war; maybe we can’t end cruelty; maybe we can’t stop meanness, or violence, or bigotry, or hate, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try! And it doesn’t mean that our sacrifices don’t mean something! Maybe we don’t save everypony, but we save some! Maybe we don’t stop every tyrant, but we stop this one! Maybe we don’t end all wars, but by Heaven we end this one! And, if we’re lucky, we spare our children the next!”
Twilight stopped, realizing that she was panting and that the tears had returned. She brought her hoof to her chest, sucking in a slow breath, then let it out as she pushed her hoof back out. “It’s never pointless to stand up for what’s right. Even if we fail. Even if it costs. Even if it costs everything. We have to do what’s right, no matter what it takes.”
She stared ahead over the graves, her eyes unfocused as they saw a different field before them. “I didn’t want to do it, you know,” Twilight insisted, her voice scarcely a whisper. “At Westfoal, I mean. I tried every possible scenario in my head; wargamed with my officers; planned dozens of strategies but . . . there was no other way! There was no other way but forward!” Her voice was insistent, desperate, as though everything hinged on her explanation being understood and accepted. “The Equalist artillery was positioned to shell the entire valley; we were low on ammunition, low on soldiers, low on time . . . the entire 3rd Army was exposed, and the only way out was through! That redoubt had to be taken! It had to be I—"
Tears streamed down her face and she didn’t try to fight them. “I’d already committed the entire reserve! The 77th Battalion was the only infantry left! You were all so green, so untested, you hadn’t even seen your first battle yet, and I knew it would be a massacre but . . .” Without conscious choice she’d shuffled around to kneel in front of the headstone. “I tried to find another way, Heaven help me I did, but that redoubt was pounding us and I had thousands of lives to consider! And not just the 3rd, but the whole province! They’d already butchered Stablebrook and Harvestford, and if they broke through they’d do it again and I couldn’t let that happen, I just couldn’t and—"
A strangled sob cut her off. “And, Heaven help me, I sent you to your deaths! I knew it was suicide, and I sent you anyway!” She was weeping uncontrollably now, her words coming out only intermittently as she bent her head before the tomb of her soldier. “I tried! I swear to Celestia I tried! But there was no other way! And I’d do it again! I have done it again! Heaven forgive I’ve sent thousands to die in war after war! Why have I sent so many to die? Why did they have to die?!” She raised her eyes to the sky, as though the warm sun might have the answer. “Why?!”
Shutting her eyes did nothing to stem the tears, and nothing to stop the pain. “They say I’m not supposed to hurt this much! I only knew a fraction of you by name! I’m not supposed to think of my soldiers as friends, but— but how can I not?! You all left your homes and families to fight beside me! That makes you friends! That makes you family!” She screamed in grief to the whole mute assembly. “You’re my family! You’re my family and I sent you to die! I- I—"
She bent her head to the earth and submitted to her grief. “I’m sorry! Willie, I’m so sorry! Please, please forgive me for what I did to you!”
And she wept before the mute grave, the faceless white stone that could offer neither compassion nor condemnation, but only a silent audience for her pain.
How long she lay there sobbing, Twilight did not know; nor did she want to. But after a time, there was the sound of leathery wings flapping, a slight tremor in the earth, and the approach of footfalls. If the unicorn noticed, she didn’t react. A bass sigh rumbled behind her, and a clawed hand descended to rest gently on her back. “Oh, Twilight,” rolled the deep voice.
For a moment, it looked like the weeping mare would not heed her name. But eventually she lifted her tear-stained face to regard the newcomer. The dragon had grown much larger since the day she’d hatched him, standing at two meters when fully erect. His captain’s dress tunic had been cut to allow for his impressive wings. The claws which rested so gently on her back could easily have torn her in half if he’d wished, and his angular face held an almost absent-minded menace. Or, at least, it would have, if the dragon had intended it. As it was, it would have been difficult to find eyes more compassionate than his at that moment. Without a word, the mare buried her face in his chest and wept in his tender embrace.
There is no grief so great that it cannot be worn down by physical exhaustion, and in time Twilight’s sobs subsided, replaced with a tremulous voice and red eyes. She unburied herself from her comrade and sat looking at the grave. “There must be something wrong with me, Spike.”
“What?!” exclaimed the dragon, horrified. “Why?!”
“Because I went back,” she replied, sounding drained. “All the evil that I saw in the Great War . . . all the suffering, the killing, the hate . . . when it ended I wanted nothing more than to leave it all behind; go home to Ponyville and try to pick up the pieces. I knew there was no going back to the way things were before. Too much had happened. But at the very least I wanted peace.” She sniffed. “But when Maretonian War broke out I was back in uniform ten minutes after I heard the news.”
“You weren’t retired yet,” protested Spike. “And we were protecting an ally. No shame in that.”
“Perhaps not, but what about the Yakyakistan Incident? I was actually preparing to retire when that broke out. But I put that off my retirement a few years to go fight and kill again.”
The dragon raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather a less competent commander have—"
“And then when I finally did get out, what good did that do me?” she interrupted, not seeming to hear him. “I tried my hoof at the civilian sector, helping Their Majesties’ Government as a private citizen, not a soldier, and even then I couldn’t escape it.”
“Celestia asked you to run for Prime Minister, Twilight. How could she not?” He patted her head with a fond smile. “You were the best pony for the job.”
Her face soured and she gave a humorless laugh as she wiped at her teary face. “Yes, and that ‘job’ was to get us ready for another war, because nopony else had the sense to see it coming. Not even in uniform anymore and still sending ponies to their deaths! What talent I seem to have for it.”
“Twilight—"
“Thousands, Spike. I have the blood of tens of thousands on my hooves.” Her chuckle was bitter. “They don’t call me ‘Love and Guts’ for nothing.”
Spike pulled away slightly so as to better look down on you, his gentle face becoming stern. “Twilight, listen to me. Those deaths aren’t on you. You didn’t start any of those wars! Celestia knows that no other mare has ever prevented so many wars in a single lifetime as you! Why do you think she wanted you for the job? Sure, they call you ‘Love and Guts,’ but that’s because you stopped so many wars by building alliances, even friendships between sworn enemies. And you risked your reputation, even your life to do it! And whenever a war came that you couldn’t stop, you at least ended it quicker than anypony else could have short of Celestia dropping the sun on our heads! You can’t blame yourself for deaths you tried everything to prevent!”
Twilight gave him a sad smile. “Spike, I was in command. Ultimately, a commander is responsible for every soldier under her, and for their actions.” She nuzzled his side. “It’s kind of you to remind me that I did the best I could, and you’re right. I did. I know I did.” Her gaze returned to the grave. “But their deaths are still my burden.”
A silence hung between them for a moment as each mulled the other’s words. At length, Spike gave another rumble and snorted. “Fine. Maybe that is your burden.” She looked up in surprise at his apparent agreement. “But that doesn’t mean it’s yours alone to carry. It’s mine too, remember? I led ponies to their deaths more than once. And dragons and griffons, come to that! And let’s not forget Applejack; she took your job after you retired, after all, and this last war was as bloody as the first. How about Rainbow Dash? No air-fighter has more kills than her; and no squadron suffered higher casualties. Good as she was, as perfect as she played her cards, you don’t think that keeps her up at night? Pinkie Pie rained hell on the Equalists with her earth-pounders, then went into RnD to make even better guns for the next war! Rarity followed you from war into politics and has faced each and every battle with you! Fluttershy patched ponies up and sent them back out to die, then became a Solarian Sister and joined the chaplains’ service so that she could help families grieve! Shining Armor and Cadence led the Empire in battle! Big Mac stormed Gallow’s Point! Celestia and Luna, heh, those two have been doing this for centuries!” He tucked a claw underneath her chin and lifted it so that she couldn’t help but meet his earnest gaze. “This is our burden to carry as much as yours, Twilight. So put those years of experience to use and let your friends help you!”
Fresh tears welled in the mare's eyes, and she opened her mouth to respond, but Spike wasn’t finished yet. “Maybe you’ve killed thousands, Twilight. But you’ve saved millions!” With a flick of his eyes he indicated Indomitable Will’s grave. “And he was a part of that! His death was a part of that! If you apologize for that, then it takes that away from him. That sacrifice was his to make, and he made it for something that mattered; something we all fought for. Sure, there’s still evil in the world, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t good. You? Me? Him? We’ve all done a lot of good. You’re always saying that we have to fight evil; that what we did meant something.” He ruffled her mane with an affectionate smile. “It’s time you took your own advice.”
The two old friends stared at each other for a long time. At first, the words didn’t seem to have any effect. Then tears welled up in Twilight’s eyes. But these were happy ones, and the smile on her face, if bittersweet, was genuine. “Thank you, Spike,” she said huskily. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.” Her eyes gazed out over the forest of graves. “For all my talk about sacrifices having meaning, about how we have to fight for the right thing no matter what, I suppose a part of me has started believing that it really isn’t worth it. It’s just... ” she shut her eyes. “I’ve seen so, much, death, and sometimes I... ” she sighed and opened her eyes. “I’m just tired of it all, Spike. So very tired of sending young people to die in my place.” The weathered old veteran turned back to Will’s resting place. “And maybe it was selfish to come and beg for forgiveness when I did nothing wrong but... I am sorry, you know?” She looked back at her friend, her eyes far older than they had any right to be. “I’m so very sorry about each and every one of them. Good and bad. I can’t help but wonder how things might have been different, how we all got this way, why we choose to hate when we can love, how if a single moment could change we’d... ”
She trailed off and closed her eyes, talking a deep breath in before letting out a long sigh and looking back at the grave. “I’d trade places, you know that?” she asked in a whisper. “I’d trade places with each and every one of my soldiers. No hesitation. No strings.” She made a furrow in the ground with her hoof. “But the world doesn’t work that way, does it?”
Spike regarded her for a moment. “No, it doesn’t.” He pulled her into a gentle hug. “And thank Heaven for that, Twilight.”
With a warm chuckle she rested her head against his chest. “What would I do without my Number One Assistant?” she asked.
The dragon set her back down and dismissed the question with a wave. “Well, you’d probably mope around a lot more for one. And you’d need to learn how to cook properly.” She smirked. Spike glanced up at the sun and noted that it was reaching the end of its descent. “It’s getting late. Want me to fly you back to the car?”
Twilight considered his offer for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine walking back. I’ll meet you there soon but . . .” she edged back to her seat next to the tombstone. “The sun’s still out. I’d like to rest a little longer with my soldiers.” She indicated the grave with a flick of her ear. “Willie here in particular.”
Spike nodded understanding and leapt into the air, flying back to where her car and the rest of her escort waited. Twilight sat silent until he was a distant speck in the distance, then leaned back against the grass as she had before. Her face bent to a small smile, one both fond and sad, and finding solace in acceptance. Unbidden, the words of a song gave voice to her soul in a soft soprano that matched her smile.
“Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound the Death March as they lowered you down?
Did the band play ‘The Last Post’ in chorus?
Did the pipes play “The Flowers of the Forest?”
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Is this a sequel, or is it based off of the Sombra Timeline from The Cutie Re-Mark Part 1?
I really enjoyed this. Thank you. I felt the sadness, saw the field, and heard the wind.
8672004
Actually, it's completely separate. I have an idea for an alternative canon that picks up somewhere before the Season 3 finale (more because logistically having Twilight as an alicorn would be a hassle than anything else) and features several allegories to the World Wars. It may be some time before I put them out, but I have one medium length fic planned for the Great War that Twilight fought in, and another one planned for a war around two decades later where she was the PM. Who knows when I'll actually get them finished, but if you liked this one I hope you'll see at least one of the others finished within the year.
8672271
I'm glad you enjoyed this. Trying to evoke specific emotions and ambiance, especially with a dialogue heavy story, is always a unique challenge, and I'm happy to see that it had that effect. Thank you.
This was a very emotional experience. I need to read your other work when I have the time.
As much as I love action and conflict, I always appreciate the stories that show the ripple effects that can have on individuals.
Everyone reacts to trauma differently. Some break down, others don't. Some completely lose it, others are melancholic.
Not every wound is one you can see.
8728220
I'm glad you like it; always good to have feedback.
One day I hope to expand on this particular AU and show more in-depth the wars that Twilight's generation has faced, and those will be more on the action side of things, but I wanted to ground this AU first in the soul of the soldiers.
I think often about Tolkien, who survived the horrifying Battle of the Somme that 'The Green Fields of France' references. I can't help but wonder how much of him was present in Frodo's musing: "How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back?" Trauma need never be the end. But we'd be fools to pretend that it doesn't change things.
Thanks again for the feedback. Hope to hear from you again.
8672298 Be careful with Pony War fics. Remember, they have magic... when you truly consider the horrors magic could unleash in war, it makes nuclear annihilation look like children lobbing water balloons.
Physics limits what we can do. Take away those bonds... can you even imagine what could be done? They can change physical structure, use telekinesis, form shields, alter minds, teleport, fire magical destruction beams.. and that's just the basics. Think of magic applied to make poisons more deadly, diseases more virulent. What could be done to hone the effects of Poison Joke towards more horrific outcomes?
Starlight Glimmer nearly destroyed the world all on her own, with nothing but basic time travel. Had Twilight not decided to believe Tirek would keep his word and let them go (which for some reason he did... which no actual self-respecting villain ever would once he had all the power) they'd have been blasting each other indefinitely and vaporized a good portion of the planet in the meantime.
And they have LIBRARIES worth of spells, an entire wing devoted to a single unicorn! Can you imagine all of that magical knowledge bent toward killing? They'd never bother with guns, save those that could shoot spells (think a Caster Gun).
In the anime "Outlaw Star", only a small number of beings could use Magic in a universe almost depleted in its source (mana). In Equestria, magic is EVERYWHERE, seemingly limitless, and beings which would be called 'gods' in our world number at least a dozen in canon. Equestria would never survive a full-fledged war. They have too much power if they put it all toward aggression. It would result in the Dead World.
It's why I tend to be very hard on stories with ponies familiar with brutal warfare: the stories have to prevent the ponies from every really considering what they could do with their magic, constraining them for the sake of the plot. Inevitably, in any plausible setting, they'd destroy themselves. Even a treaty to avoid using magic would only last until one side started outright losing. MAD is the only actual logical outcome of a large conflict. It's why I think they'd all try very very hard to avoid a war between magical races, the same as nuclear powers here on Earth.
8813546
Playing devil's advocate, a number of people have theorized that most unicorns don't have a ton of magic except in cases like Twilight or Starlight. As a result, while there would be some horrifying spells used broadly in war, only a few would likely to be able to use them. The great leveler (assuming it was invented) would be the gun, which is like having a pocket unicorn wizard in terms of stopping power, and it takes either one very talented unicorn casting a shield or several trained normal unicorns casting one to block even some bullets. Problem is, the bullets can chip through eventually, and you need to cast before the enemy shoots or else you won't beat the muzzle velocity. So long as stories account for this (like NCMares' excellent Night Mares fic), I'll suspend my disbelief for the sake of a good story.
That said, I totally get being skeptical. The difficulty of averting disaster would be quite difficult in a world like this, which would go a long way to explaining Celestia's long-term peace policy.
8813723 Yeah, that's not even theory. A theory at least needs some solid data. This is at best a 'hypothesis', which we can take with a grain of salt because the show hasn't outlined an 'average' for unicorn ability very well... or anything else in the world, for that matter. After 8 years, you'd think SOMETHING would start fitting together.
We have no idea how much power is required for each spell... and let's be honest, general spells to kill wouldn't require much. Think of what Rarity could do with all those sharp things she can levitate all at once. And teleporting a stone or other small object inside somepony's head wouldn't be hard either. There's a reason the CIA deeply investigated even the remotest possibility that a tiny trace of supernatural power could exist, you know. The advantages of it for espionage and assassination are staggering.
Anyway, we keep getting 'exceptions' like Starlight and now alicorns can be born... I can't buy into the notion of anything being consistent with Equestria. If the show writers needed them all to be Super Saiyains, I suspect they would be. And without explanation, as usual.
8814914
Fortunately for us, there's fanfiction. The advantage there being that the author can clarify things up front to explain the need for weapons beyond spells. E.g. combat spells take a lot of mana to perform throughout the battle; a gun achieves the same results, but ammunition is more plentiful than mana and can't be shut down or stolen by enemy magic (think Tirek). And, while it's true that the show's lack of clarity can complicate things by muddying the waters too much, the lack of clarity has the advantage of lending a certain measure of artistic license for the sake of exploring a modern war in the MLP setting if a modern war is the best vehicle for the story. I, for instance, have spent a lot of time studying WWI and WWII, and have dealt personally with a lot of Vietnam and Iraq I and II veterans. If I want to tell a story about a character dealing with Shell Shock or symptoms of PTSD consistent with a modern conflict, I can set the terms and conditions that would allow for the creation of guns as long as I establish them up front. Now, whether or not the reader accepts these conditions is up to them, but I prefer to err on the side of more options for storytelling. And, given that a few veterans have let me know that they appreciate my take on such stories, I consider it to be personally worth it even if it does stretch the imagination. But I get that it's not for everyone.
8816062 I just prefer not to leave out the magical aspects, since magic is so utterly integral to the structure and function of their entire planet. It's stranger for them NOT to make use of magic in warfare. It would be akin to us trying to invent magical weapons while ignoring the conventional technology we have all around us.
People use what they know best. And ponies know magic.
8817237
And that's why for the stories that I'm working on where guns are used, I try to integrate magic into adaptive tactics. E.g. short bursts of shields against salvos, telekinesis for throwing up cover from rocks during a charge, things of that nature. The gun is the great equalizer of war in that any idiot can use it, but on the other hand a skilled strike force integrating the proper application of magic with firearm proficiency would be more effective. And seeing how the different soldiers react to the changes in tactics and what the changing scope of war does psychologically is, itself, a part of the story.
Though, ultimately, I admit that I'm more trying to make rules fit a theme rather than a theme fit rules. One thing that I've found beneficial about this conversation, though, is that you've persuaded me to take another look at my outlines for my gun-using war fics (most of which are still in development) and reconsider the tactical application of magic and how it could be expanded within the theme that I'm trying to create. As a result, they're becoming stronger and more magically inclined, so I guess I owe you a hearty 'thank you' for that.
8818042 I shall only be pleased if one gun fires magical bullets and is wielded by a pony named 'Starwind'.
Actually... holy crap, a crossover that actually makes sense!
8819426
Fair enough. Though I still thank you for making me take a second look at some of the practical elements of these stories that I'm developing.
I read this for context on your latest story. Beautiful work of tragedy, regret, and hope as Twilight tries to reconcile the paradox of fighting for peace that has defined her life. Though part of me can't help but think...
She may be on to you. Hopefully she never learns who to blame.
In all seriousness, thank you for this. On to the next entry in this continuity.
9291026
It's best if my characters never know that I am the author of all their pain.
That was powerful. I liked the emphasis on the alliances and friendships that Twilight is responsible for brokering, the little glimpses of what all our favorite characters did for the war effort (dear heaven above, Fluttershy would make the best chaplain), and especially the role that the magic of Twilight's friendships plays in her healing. No real gripes here.
9295786
Thank you. I was particularly proud of that aspect of the story.
This is really good. I'd go on, but I'm on mobile, and need to brood on what to say.
This story truly made me cry. An excellent story. May they rest in peace and may war someday end.
10185184
Glad you enjoyed it. And, yes, may they rest in peace.
One thing
The Lost Generation
1) School of American writers in the 1920s. Most famous would be Hemingway. Also, Jazz music was popular then -Tin Pan Alley.
2) Americans born 1883-1900. The majority of soldiers in WW1 were born then.
Should be a pony equivalent.
11213603
Yes, this war was intended to be tonally akin to WWI (albeit with a clearer right/wrong dynamic between the factions).
9682144
You might, perhaps, want to get around to formulating a fuller response?