(@Crimson Lionheart HERE WE GO) ---- War... war never changes. Once, many years ago, Equestria was a happy place... a place where ponies of all shapes and sizes, from many different walks of life, could come together in peace and harmony; as comrades, as equals, as friends. The skies were blue, the sun was bright, and the land was safe. We could raise our foals confidently, knowing that they had a bright future ahead of them. Sadly, it was not to last. Over time, the very ideal of friendship upon which Equestria was built upon had decayed, and in its place came fear, greed, envy, and hatred... the perfect ingredients for war. The details are trivial and pointless; the reasons, as always, purely our own. The war had ravaged and torn apart our once great land, and when it finally ended... it ended in fire. The megaspells rained from the skies, razing all in their wake. Life, as we knew it, had ended. Those who were lucky enough to survive the magical holocaust called the event "The Last Day." Thousands had been spared from the fire by taking refuge in underground shelters, known as Stables, yet they would emerge with only the hellish wasteland to greet them. They were the lucky ones... -----
Old. Miserable. Alone.... Those three words were enough to describe an old stallion standing behind the counter of a saloon, serving drinks to the rowdy patrons. Fights weren't a common as the reputation tended to proceed the bar to be. But it was enough to make a rather sizeable living in terms of money. A drink filled in a glass was passed over along the counter, before the bartender cleaned an empty cup. Behind the counter was an old stallion, entering the twilight of his age. His once vibrant purple and yellow Mane had greyed years ago, and was more of a silvery-yellow. His coat had gotten abit lighter, and his eyes seemed tired. Despite that, his biggest regret was being too good for his old job. Crimson Lionheart kept his life quiet in the very remote part of the Equestrian wasteland, and he honestly kept it that way. It avoided suspicion, plus you lived longer in one of the least affected parts of the hellhole of this world......
At that moment, a stallion trotted into the bar. He was a unicorn; most of his once grey coat had flaked away, and much of his once brown mane and tail had fallen out. Many of his teeth were missing, and his eyes were bloodshot and baggy. By all accounts, this stallion was a ghoul, and he didn't seem too happy about his condition. "I'd like a pintful, please," he said to the bartender, in a raspy voice. "Strongest stuff you can give me."
The bartender nodded and quickly got to work with fixing up the strongest drink on the menu, feeling the glass being filled up with liquid. Soon, the strong smelling brownish-yellow liquid was passed over along the counter and stopped right nearby the ghoul, which alone was a curiosity. It wasn't that the tavern allowed ghouls, unlike back in the Equestrian heartlands, but it was more of a sense of 'Why deny another paying customer?' About a days trot from the small tavern was Vanhoover, and another three to five days to the west was the mountain range that divided the simple slice of Equestria in the West towards the heavily hit parts of the wasteland. The bartender held an old map of Equestria above the glass mirror nearby a sink, easy for anyone at the counter to see. It goes to show how enormous Equestria used to be.... "Alright, that's about 20 bits." Crimson said to the Ghoul. "Be careful with that drink. That stuff can drop the strongest of Earth Ponies like ground glass..."
The bartender had a weak smile before turning around to focus on doing the dishes. "You must be from the heartlands. That means you are pretty far away from home....what brings you out here stranger?"
The ghoul sighed morosely. "I was there," he began, "on the Last Day, as ponies call it now. I was an ordinary young stallion with his whole life ahead of him... until... until the megaspell hit." He took another sip of his drink. "When Old Ponyville was attacked, I was right in the blast radius, and I didn't make it to the Stable in time. I don't know how the hell I survived... I often wish I didn't."
The stallion looked rather sombre about the tone of voice that the Ghoul had. He shook his head before sighing, his old eyes looking like he knew what the Ghoul was talking about. "I'm....sorry to hear that. That sounds horrible....."
"It gets worse," said the ghoul after taking another drink. "Every moment I've been alive for the past 200 years... pain. Physical pain from my scarred body... and psychological pain from the trauma and nostalgia. Every night when I go to sleep, I want to wake up in my bed in Old Ponyville, or otherwise die peacefully in my slumber, but neither have ever happened." He sighed. "I sometimes wonder why I don't just put myself out of my own misery."
Crimson sighed before going to take a sip of his drink. Sure, life sucked in the new Equestria, but things could have always been much worse. The Ghoul next to him could have been sold as a slave in Fillydelphia, or get torn to pieces by some of the hostile wildlife. But life seems to find a way around here, and that was a good thing. "You know, if you really wanted to die on your own terms, I have a gun that you can borrow." Crimson told him bluntly before starting to chuckle. "I spent my entire life in military, so trust me, I know how you feel. I just hope that....unlike me, you didn't make the mistakes that I made when I was a young colt."
