Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Show rules for this event
Ashes of Harmony
“Say that again, sonny boy.”
“Like is said Grandpa, they’re starting work on a new Harmony. A modern Starlight class dreadnought, with all the trimmings!”
Petty Officer Second Class (Retired) Iron Hooves stared at his grandson with a gimlet eye. Old age had worn the mountain of an earth pony down to wrinkly skin and frail bones, but there was still a core of stone to the elderly stallion. Sure, his hooves shook a bit more than they once did, and he was a bit blind in his left eye. But his mind was still sharp, and his voice had barely a quaver to it as he spoke.
“You pulling my hoof, boy?” He grumbled.
The young colt just rolled his eyes.
“Of course not Grandpa! Why would I do that?” He asked with tolerant exasperation.
“Hmmmmm. Is that so.” Leaning back in his chair, he brought a hoof to his wrinkly chin. After a few moments of consideration his eyes shifted to the fireplace mantle. More specifically, to the glass vial resting atop it. Nodding decisively he turned back to his grandson.
“Sharp Eye, do an old stallion a favor and bring me a quill and some paper.” A small smile crossed his lips. “I’ve got some letters to write.”
Seapony Iron Hooves was resting against the side of his bolt thrower and staring out past the railing of the HMS Harmony, taking in the unusual sight of a half dozen Sunshine Class Dreadnoughts, the heart of Sixth Fleet, hovering in the air above Blue Pearl Oasis.
Below his airship was the oasis itself, one of the few permanent bodies of water in the Great Desert, surrounded by a small city and military base. Before him was a vast expanse of shifting sands and rocky outcroppings, with the mountains of the East Gryphon Empire barely visible in the distance. And above was the deep blue desert sky, broken up by a few high flying clouds, likely the creation of the Pegasus Support Squad expected to arrive that afternoon.
Lieutenant Swift Sword was halfway across the deck, making his rounds and inspections. Iron Hooves wasn’t worried. He and his squad had their position and personal kit polished and ship shape. Sloppy, slovenly ponies didn’t get illustrious postings like the Harmony.
There was a sense of calm and relief among the crew. The East Gryphon Empire had been getting more and more belligerent lately, which was why Sixth Fleet had been forward deployed the Pearl a few weeks ago. Tensions between the Empire and Equestria had been growing higher and higher. There were even rumors that war might break out! It was practically unthinkable! Ponies hadn’t been involved in a proper war since the Waring Tribes period, before the rule of the Alicorn Sisters, before even Discord! For all they trained and prepared war was a thing known only in myth and legend.
So it had been an immense relief when the Emperor had decided to send diplomats to Canterlot. Iron had no doubt that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, in their infinite wisdom and kindness, would find a way to calm things down. They had centuries of experience at this sort of thing after all.
Lost I thought, he never noticed the Gryhons diving out of the cloud formation far above. His first sign that anything was amiss was a cry of “Battlestations! Battlestations! Gryphons off the Starboard Bow!”
“Dad? Dad, wake up.” The gentle shaking brought Iron Hooves from his short nap with a start.
“Huh? What? Who’s there?” He mumbled, sitting up straight in his rocking chair. It took his old eyes a moment to focus on the pony before him. His daughter’s smiling visage calmed his suddenly racing heart.
“Darn it Heartstone, don’t go sneaking up on an old stallion like that.” He groused, holding a hoof over his chest. His daughter just smiled and shook her head slightly, before placing an envelope on his lap.
“I’m sorry to wake you dad. But another letter arrived for you. I thought you’d want to see it.”
“Oh. Thank you sweetie.” A shaky hoof made quick work of the envelope. Old eyes took a bit longer to handle the contents. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he reached the end of the letter.
“Bad news Dad?”
“Yeah. It’s a letter from Clear Sight’s son. Seems he won’t be making it next week.” He frowned slightly at the letter before him. “Turns out the poor old bastard passed away almost a month ago.”
Hearstone patted her father on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that dad. I remember you talking about him years ago. You two were pretty close, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, we were real close. Served on the same crew for a while.” He gave a rough chuckle, a grim tone to his words.
“Even shared a room one time.”
The battle had been raging for ten or fifteen minutes, though it felt like an eternity. The sky was filled with smoke and gryphons. Only a hoofull of pegasi were in air. The Empire had picked the perfect time to strike; many of the base’s pegasi were out on a water run. And anypony who tried to take to the air was quickly swamped by gryphons before they could build up enough speed and altitude to meet them on equal terms.
Which left the defense of the fleet to the ground pounders and gunners aboard the airships. Gunners such as himself.
Iron Hoove’s cutie mark was a pair of interlocked hooves made of gray iron. It represented the strength and steadiness of his grip. A useful talent when one was called upon to maneuver the heavy weapons mount and keep it on target.
Stubby steel crossbow bolts poured out of his weapon like a stream of sharpened steel. And where his stream and a target intersected, gryphons died. Beside him the rest of his gun crew worked feverishly, loading more bolts into the firing mechanism, keeping the clockwork and springs tensioned, or using unicorn magic to lighten the mount for easier movement.
With a hard shove Iron swung his bolt thrower to the left, and a pack of three gryphons fell from the sky.
“Good shooting Iron! Six more incoming at 3 o’clock high!” Clear Sight called, the spotter pointing with his hoof.
Standing side by side, both ponies were focused on the mass of gryphons bearing down on them. Neither of them saw the squadron diving towards the Port side of the ship. They didn’t see them weave through the defensive fire, dodging the arcano-disrupter blasts and ignoring the bolt throwers.
Didn’t see the glowing potion bottles in their claws drop free as they broke off their dives.
Didn’t see the magical flames eating through the heavy decking before reaching one of the crystal powder magazines.
Iron Hooves and Clear Sight didn’t see any of that. They only felt the aftermath. The force of the blast. The heat of the flames. And then merciful blackness as they were blasted free of the Harmony, and of consciousness. It was pure luck that there had been a flight of pegasi in place to snag them as they fell.
It was a day and a half later when Iron Hooves awoke in the triage center of Pearl Hospital. He had three broken ribs, severe burns along one side, a severe concussion…
And no ship and duty station to return to.
Laying beside him in the cramped triage center was Clear Sight. The only other survivor of the Starboard Gun Crew Four.
Outside the hospital window, he could still see smoke curling up towards the sky.
Iron Hooves stared at himself in the mirror. Of his once vibrant blue hair there were only a few strands left standing against the onslaught of gray. His coat was faring a bit better, but only because it was closer to gray to start with. Regardless, he’d done all that could be done with comb and hoof to make himself presentable. At least his canvas cap and uniform went a long way towards covering up any imperfections in the pony wearing them.
He’d have been prouder of still fitting into his old uniform if it didn’t hang off of him quite so much. Once upon a time he’d had the musculature to properly fill it out. But time wears down even the tallest mountains.
At least he managed to keep his ‘fruit salad’ and ‘scrambled eggs’ straight and level. The lines of rank insignia, awards, and medals were rather impressive. Iron had spent quite a few years in the service, and none of them were what could be called ‘idle.’ The number of combat citations and battle awards made that perfectly clear.
“You ready to head out Grandpa?” Sharp Eye nosed into the bathroom, then gave a low whistle. “Looking pretty sharp there, Gramps!”
Iron glanced back at his grandson. He wasn’t the only one who’d dressed up this afternoon. The stallion, barely past colthood to Iron’s eye, was decked out in his own (properly fitting) uniform. But whereas his was that of a Petty Officer, Sharp Eye’s was an Ensign.
“Not looking too bad yourself there sonny. Even if you are aiming to be one of them lazy officers.” His smirk and playful tone took all of the bite out of his words, and Sharp rolled his eyes.
“You’re just jealous that I’m just a kid and I already out rank you.” He shot back. His eyes drifted down to the mass of medals and awards on his grandfather’s dress uniform, comparing them to his own mostly bare chest. “Though I suppose those lend a bit more weight to your position.”
“Bah. Damned things carry a lot of weight all right. And most of it weighs on the soul.” He prodded the young pegasus in the chest. “I pray nopony in your generation ever needs half these things pinned to their chest.”
“All right, all right Grandpa. Point taken.” Sharp raised a placating hoof. But then something else caught his eyes. The only non-regulation item his grandfather was carrying. A small glass vial hanging around his neck by a simple piece of string.
“And what’s this, Grandpa? I’ve never seen this leave the mantle over the fireplace.”
Iron’s raised his hoof to grasp the vial, a comforting, reflexive gesture.
“It’s just some old friend, sonny. Just some old friends.” He muttered.
Despite the centuries of unity, Earth Ponies, Pegasi, and Unicorns all retained bits and pieces of their own cultures, including how they honored their dead.
Earth ponies generally preferred to be buried. No embalming or preservation spells. Simply returned to the earth and soil from which they came. Pegasi funerals usually involved cremation, and having their ashes scattered across the sky so that they might fly forever on the winds. Unicorns liked their cemeteries and mausoleums. Monuments, big or small, so that their accomplishments in life would be remembered long after their deaths.
The Harmony has been crewed by almost 1200 ponies of all three tribes. Less than 150 had survived their beloved airship’s destruction. And as Iron Hooves stared at the wreckage of the once proud warship, still smoldering almost five days later, he couldn’t help but reflect that all of the fallen had received their preferred burial in some fashion.
For the earth ponies, the fiery wreck had augured itself deep into the sand and soil when it finally came to rest. For the Pegasi, little remained of the ship and crew but ash. The heat of the fires had been enormous, especially when the rest of the magazines had let go. The ship had burned for three days. Nopony had bee able or been bothered to put it out. They were too busy rescuing the living, and saving what was salvageable.
And for the unicorns, here was a grave marker greater and more terrible than all others. The twisted steel skeleton of the Harmony’s superstructure, blackened and charred, reach up out of the glassy sands like the wings of a skeletal Pegasus reaching for the sky. The sand itself had been fused into molten glass by the heat of the fires. There could be no doubt that it was a marker that would remain for centuries.
Iron stood besides a few dozen of his fellow shipmates. A hooful of the survivors who had asked to be brought out to the crash site to pay their final respects to their brothers in arms. In the distance the sounds of salvage and military preparations were muted to a mere murmur, overwhelmed by the sound of the wind blowing through the debris.
Nopony spoke a word.
Iron grimaced at a twinge of pain along his side. Despite the magical aid, his burns weren’t fully healed. In truth he’d always bear the scars of the Harmony’s destruction, both on his heart and on his hide. Reaching into his saddle bags he withdrew a vial of pain reliever potion to deal with one of those aches.
Finishing the small bottle, Iron returned to staring out at the remains of his ship, and of his friends. His eyes were drawn back to the bottle still in his hoof, the glass reflecting in the sun. And that was when the strange, but oh so right, impulse struck him.
Walking forward past the others, Iron reached down to pick up a hooful of ash, carefully pouring it into the vial.
“What in Tartarus are you doing?” One of his shipmates hissed from behind him. Iron ignored the comment and finished filing the vial before turning around to face the rest of the group.
“This ash is all that’s left of my shipmates. I don’t know about the rest of you lot, but I aim to get some payback.” He finished recorking the bottle, holding it up in front of his face. “And I’m going to carry these ashes with me while I’m at it. So that in some small way my shipmates will be there to see those damned Gryffies get theirs.”
There was a moment of silence as the others stared at each other.
Then, one by one, each stepped forward to scoop up a hooful of ashes into some makeshift container or another.
San Flankcisco’s industrial sector wasn’t exactly a popular gathering place for senior citizens. Not during the middle of the afternoon on a workday. Or at any other time, really. And yet there they stood in front of the Naval Foundry, over thirty elderly ponies wearing their antiquated uniforms, attended to by an equal sized gaggle of children and grandchildren trying to keep an eye on their elders.
Most of whom were of the firm opinion that they had no need for such coddling, of course.
Iron just chuckled at the scene as he approached, amused by all grumpy old sailors and their overprotective offspring.
At least until Sharp View spoke up beside him.
“Are you sure you don’t want you cane Grandpa?”
“For the sixth time, no. I am fine.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes at his own overprotective grandson. He couldn't fault the boy for his concern, but for the Alicron’s sake, he’d spent his youth protecting Equestria from Gryphonic conquest! Surely his family realized he could handle a brief walk!
“Ah, Petty Officer Iron Hooves! Looking as grumpy and severe as ever I see!” Came a voice from his left.
“Lieutenant Quick Strike! Sir!” Iron turned quickly with a smile, managing a quick, almost regulation salute without falling over.
“Now now, none of that Iron. I’m retired, just like everypony else here.” The old unicorn grinned. “Besides, you’re the one who dragged us all out here, so I suppose that puts you in charge of this unruly mob.”
“If you say so, sir.” Iron shot back with a smirk. Swift just shook his head in amusement at the honorific.
“To be honest Iron, I’m surprised to managed to set this all up. How ever did you manage to get permission for a bunch like us to visit a secure military manufacturing facility?”
“Ah, well, I have a few friends in high places. You remember Captain Earnest?”
“Earnest Intent? I know of him, of course. Captain of the HMS Retribution, wasn’t he? Took command right out of the shipyard as I recall. Never had the privileged of sailing with him, mind you.”
“Well, I did. Ran one of his best gun crews. And believe it or not, the old codger is still kicking. Retired as a rear admiral in fact.” Iron smiled. “And he’s not the sort of pony to forget his crew. He was kind enough to pull a few strings for me.”
“Lucky devil. That was one hell of a fighting ship from what I heard. I seem to remember part of Captain Earnest’s commissioning speech from the newspapers. Something along the line’s of ‘This is a fighting ship, and I mean to sail into harm’s way. Anypony who has a problem with that best get off now.’” He chuckled and shook his head. “He was a quite inspiring if rather direct speaker I take it.”
The main doors to the foundry began to open before them, and the crowd of elderly sailors and their young attendants began to slowly shuffle into the factory.
“Yeah, I suppose he was. Blunt as a hammer, but he certainly knew how to motivate his crew.” Iron mumbled.
The HMS Retribution was a fine ship. Brand new and just out of the docks, she was a proper Battle Cruiser. A marriage between a Cruisers speed and a Dreadnought's firepower. The downside was she had armor more akin to a rowboat than an airship of the line.
And after the debacle at Pearl, she was one of the heaviest combatants left in the Equestrian fleet. And would remain that way for some time, depending on how well and how quickly the salvage efforts went.
She was a brand new ship, sleek and modern. Unfortunately, she also carried a brand new crew. The fleet was growing by leaps and bounds. And that meant experienced sailors were being promoted left and right, and being put in charge of the greenest of new recruits.
Which explained why Petty Officer Third Class Iron Hooves was stuck trying to instill some proper discipline into Main Gun Battery two.
One of the newbies actually had the gall to ask if it was ‘fair’ for them to be attacking lightly armed supply ships out in the Great Desert! They were a Battle Cruiser for Diarch’s sake! They were built for raiding supply lines and rear areas!
But the fresh blood didn’t understand. They hadn’t seen the elephant. They hadn’t been at Pearl. Been aboard the Harmony.
He was in the process of correcting one of his loaders stances when a whistle came over the ship’s communicator.
“Now hear this. This is the Captain speaking.” Captain Earnest’s voice came over the communication array. “We have sighed a Gryphon convoy, and are moving to engage.” His eager anticipation could be made out even over the crackly sound of the array.
“Now it has been brought to my attention that some members of my crew are… ‘concerned’… about the ‘fairness’ of attacking a lightly armed convoy.. He snorted. “So, I’m going to ask you all… What is the name of this ship?”
Silence reigned across the vessel as ponies looked at one another in puzzlement.
“Is it… The HMS Harmony? No. Is it… The HMS Friendship? No. No it’s not. How about the HMS Mercy? No, no it’s not that either.” The false cheer of his voice was clear even over the arrays. And then it was gone. Replaced with steel and fire.
“This is the HMS Retribution! We offered the Gryphons Harmony. We offered them Friendship. We offered them Mercy. And what did they do? They spit in our faces and burned them all to ash!” His voice rose as he spoke, each sentence louder and louder.
“Well now they’re going to face us! We are Retribution! We are not here to make friends with the cat-birds or to show them mercy! We are here to destroy them! You ask if it’s fair for us to attack an undefended convoy? It’s a damned sight fairer than their sneak attack on Pearl!” He growled with fiery passion.
“Now, what is the name of our ship?” He demanded.
“The Retribution.” The words were soft and muddled, but there. The entire crew muttering it under their breaths.
“I can’t hear you! What is the name of this ship?
“The Retribution!” This time there was more strength to the words. Everypony said it. A few shouted it. Iron was surprised to realize he was one on them.
“I still can’t hear you! What is the name of this ship?”
“THE RETRIBUTION!” This time the reply was a single shout from eight hundred throats, the sound reverberating throughout the ship and piercing the heavens.
”Damned straight!” Captain Earnest replied, the communicator echoing his shout across the ship. “Now man your battle stations! We have Gryffie supply lines to cut! And a cask of cider goes to whichever gun crew downs the most supply ships! Captain out!”
There was a moment of silence, and Iron could feel his heart pounding in his chest, even as his soul sang in agreement. He hardly noticed the way his hoof was curled around the bottle hanging from his neck. After a moment he shook his head and focused his attention on his gun crew.
“All right maggots! You heard the captain! We’ve got some ships to put down and a lot of Gryffies to leave hungry. So look sharp!” The grin h gave his crew was positively feral. “After all, we’re not going to let those lazy cross-eyed bums in Battery Four steal our cask of cider, are we?”
“Sir, no sir!”
The foundry was a rough, noisy place. And not very big on ceremony. There was work to be done, and the ponies employed there intended to do it. But they had been kind enough to clear an area above one of the massive ladles that would soon be used to pour the structural members for the new Harmony. And out of respect for the old warhorses, the foreman was delaying the noisiest operations for later in the afternoon.
So although the foundry was still a beehive of activity, it was a beehive courteously trying to keep the buzzing to a minimum.
All of which meant that Iron Hooves wouldn’t quite have to shout to be heard over the noise. It wasn’t as if he had that large a group to address in any case. Just a hooful of old fogeys in the front, with the youngsters taking up the rear.
And so he stood in front of the assembled ponies, his back to the bubbling ladle of red hot metal. Staring out at the sea of faces, old and young, he found it difficult to speak. He’d thought he was too old to feel fear anymore, but it turned out that nopony was too old to feel stage fright. He cleared his throat.
“Well, here we all are.” He began, coughing into his hoof. “It’s, ah, good to see all of you here together. I can’t remember the last time this many of us were all in one place...”
“That would be on the Harmony!” Somepony called out from the back with dark humor.
“Yeah, and there were a lot more of us back then too!” Came another elderly voice.
“And we were all young and good looking then too!” Called out a mare.
“Horseapples! I may be old, but I ain’t lost my memory yet! Even all those years ago you had a face like a bowl of burned oatmeal Firefly!”
“Why you…!”
By now the whole assembly was chuckling and laughing, Iron included. Stamping his hooves on the metal grate below him, he smiled, awkwardness forgotten.
“It’s good to see that most of you haven’t changed a bit. Meaning you’ve never grown up.” He growled, and another ripple of laughter flowed through the crowd. “But I asked you all to come here today for something serious.” He continued, hoof rising up to grasp the vial around his neck.
“It seems that the Admiralty, in their infinite wisdom, has finally decided to return the name Harmony to the fleet. It’s been damned near sixty five years, so I’d say it’s about time.” Heads nodded and a murmurer of agreement arose from the crowd before him. “And now here we are. Standing in front of a bunch of lifeless metal that’s going to be the bones of the new Harmony.”
Iron turned to look back at the ladle again. And when he faced the crowd once more, there was a quaver in his voice. Iron had never been much of a speech maker, but these words seemed to pour straight from his heart. And they felt right
“I guess I’ve never really put it into words, but I’ve always felt that ships have a soul. Maybe not when they’re first launched. More like… It’s something that rubs off on them, from every pony that lives and works upon them. All that sweat and blood and fur and flesh building up and sticking around. Like… Like all the little bits of dirt and grease that accumulate in the corners that no amount of swabbing or scrubbing by Seaponies can remove. “ He smiled tiredly, and there was a smattering of laughter inside the otherwise silent foundry. Unknown to Iron and unnoticed by the group, all work across the building was coming to a halt.
“I think all of that builds up to give a ship its soul. And that soul rubs back off onto the ponies that serve on her. The Harmony was one tartarus of a ship. And a lot of ponies lived and work on her over the years. And a lot of them died upon her.” He hoof tightened around the vial, squeezing it snugly before his forced himself to loosen his grip.
Holding it up in front of the audience, he let the light reflect off the glass.
“For four years I carried these ashes with me. Four long, bloody years of war. I saw a lot of terrible things over those years. We all did.” There were somber nods from the crowd now, but not a word was spoken.
“Through it all, even when I stood alone, I always felt like there were ponies beside me. Like my old shipmates from the Harmony were watching out for me. Keeping me on the straight and narrow. Keeping me from getting my fool self killed.”
He raised a leg to his eyes to wipe away a few stray tears. They were blurring his vision, making it double and quadruple. Because, for just a moment, rather than seeing a hooful of decrepit old ponies playing dressup, he saw the foundry floor filled with fresh young faces wearing familiar uniforms. A thousand young stallions and mares smiling kindly up at him, unchanged from that fateful day at Pearl.
When he dried his eyes, they were gone.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed on.
“Well, I’m old now. We all are. Our time has come and gone. There’s a new generation now that needs watching over.” He nodded at his Grandson, standing in the back of the crowd with all the other youngsters, listening with rapt attention. “And I’m hoping that a bit of the old Harmony will carry over into the new. To watch over them.”
Turning around, he took a few careful steps to the edge of the platform, looking down into mass of molten metal below. With a grunt of effort he used his teeth to remove the vial’s cork, exposing it’s contents to the air for the first time in over sixty five years.
Somehow it still smelled just like he remembered on that long ago day.
“Earth ponies want to return from whence they came, pegasi want to fly forever, and unicorns want to be remembered. May all three tribes get their wishes as part of this ship.”
And with those words, he turned the vial over, allowing the ash and debris to fall into the furnace below. Despite the updraft the heat should have created, the flakes fell straight down into the metal, as if weighed down by something heavier than simple carbon.
Iron stepped aside. And one by one a silent procession followed, each old sailor stepping up to the edge, saying a few quiet words, and dumping their container of ashes into the steel below.
It was less than an hour later when Iron Hooves staggered out of the foundry. He wasn’t ashamed to be leaning against his grandson for support. He felt tired. Drained. And yet, at the same time, lighter than he’d felt in ages. It was a good feeling. And maybe relying on the next generation a bit more wouldn’t be so bad either.
“That was… That was really impressive Grandpa. Really… I don’t know.. moving..” The note of awe in his grandson’s voice was, in Iron’s opinion, horribly misplaced.
“It was nothing sonny. I just spoke the truth, as it came to me. It doesn’t really mean anything.” He waved a hoof dismissively.
“I don’t know about that Gramps. A lot of ponies there heard you talking. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the whole place. Ponies are going to remember it.”
“Bah. Who listens to a bunch of old farts like us these days? No one. This was just something I felt we old timers had to do. I guarantee you, twenty years from now, nopony will remember a thing about it.”
“If you say so grandpa.”
“I do. Now come on. We old fogeys are all meeting up at The Prancing Pony for a few drinks and a bit of reminiscing. And I’m sure all the other younglings babysitting us old stallions and mares will be coming along. “ Iron smiled and nudged his grandson. “Including that yellow filly you’ve been keeping a weather eye on all afternoon.”
The blush that covered Sharp Eye’s face let him know he’d scored a direct hit.
“Grandpa!”
“Heh heh. Yep. Still got it.”
1122 Years Later (1001 Celestial Calendar)
“And here your Highness, you can see how we’ve automated the metal pouring process. This has reduced costs and injuries by eighty percent!”
Princess Luna sighed and did her best to feign interest in the tour she was being given. She would freely admit that the arrangement was impressive. Everything in the foundry was remote controlled from the glass enclosed control room she stood within. But it was simply too far removed from her experience and memories.
When she’s selected the naval shipyards for her visit, she had hoped to find something familiar. Some touchstone she could anchor herself with in this strange, foreign age.
Alas, it seemed that it was not to be…
“Foreman, what, pray tell, is going on there?”
The foreman, an earth pony by the name of Timely Delivery, squinted and followed the princesses’ silver clad hoof, glancing out across the foundry floor. There, standing on one of the catwalks above a ladle of molten metal, was a small party of ponies. Several of them quite old. As they watched a small wooden box changed hooves, and one of the older ponies opened it, pouring the contents into the molten steel below.
“Oh, that. That’s just a silly old tradition, your Highness.” Timely Delivery smiled nervously, clearly more comfortable showing off the wonders of modern automation as opposed to ancient traditions.
“Tell me of it.” Luna insisted, eyes still on the ponies on the other side of the glass.
“W.. Well, nopony really knows when or how the tradition started. But whenever a naval airship is, well, lost or destroyed, a few pieces of it are salvaged. If possible. And then thrown into the molten metal of the next ship of the line. The, uh.. the old timers...” He trailed off, as if embarrassed to be passing on old superstitions. “Well, they say it’s to carry the soul of the ship and its crew into the next generation. To watch over them in battle.” He hurriedly explained.
“Not that we see much of that these days, thank the Maker!” Timely added. “These days most of the pieces are salvaged when an airship is sent to the breakers for scrap. The crews still insist on the ceremony mind you. Claim it’s good luck. That it keeps the ship’s soul going, from generation to generation.” He cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed at showing so much sentimentality.
Luna barely noticed. Instead she placed a hoof on the glass and watched the little ceremony conclude, a brilliant smile on her lips.
“Nopony knows the origin of the tradition thou say?” Luna asked.
“Um, yes your highness. So they say.”
“Well then, We shall enlighten thee. Sit down, Timely Delivery, and thou shall hear the tale of the HMS Harmony, and the start of the Great Gryphon War...”
“Like is said Grandpa, they’re starting work on a new Harmony. A modern Starlight class dreadnought, with all the trimmings!”
Petty Officer Second Class (Retired) Iron Hooves stared at his grandson with a gimlet eye. Old age had worn the mountain of an earth pony down to wrinkly skin and frail bones, but there was still a core of stone to the elderly stallion. Sure, his hooves shook a bit more than they once did, and he was a bit blind in his left eye. But his mind was still sharp, and his voice had barely a quaver to it as he spoke.
“You pulling my hoof, boy?” He grumbled.
The young colt just rolled his eyes.
“Of course not Grandpa! Why would I do that?” He asked with tolerant exasperation.
“Hmmmmm. Is that so.” Leaning back in his chair, he brought a hoof to his wrinkly chin. After a few moments of consideration his eyes shifted to the fireplace mantle. More specifically, to the glass vial resting atop it. Nodding decisively he turned back to his grandson.
“Sharp Eye, do an old stallion a favor and bring me a quill and some paper.” A small smile crossed his lips. “I’ve got some letters to write.”
Seapony Iron Hooves was resting against the side of his bolt thrower and staring out past the railing of the HMS Harmony, taking in the unusual sight of a half dozen Sunshine Class Dreadnoughts, the heart of Sixth Fleet, hovering in the air above Blue Pearl Oasis.
Below his airship was the oasis itself, one of the few permanent bodies of water in the Great Desert, surrounded by a small city and military base. Before him was a vast expanse of shifting sands and rocky outcroppings, with the mountains of the East Gryphon Empire barely visible in the distance. And above was the deep blue desert sky, broken up by a few high flying clouds, likely the creation of the Pegasus Support Squad expected to arrive that afternoon.
Lieutenant Swift Sword was halfway across the deck, making his rounds and inspections. Iron Hooves wasn’t worried. He and his squad had their position and personal kit polished and ship shape. Sloppy, slovenly ponies didn’t get illustrious postings like the Harmony.
There was a sense of calm and relief among the crew. The East Gryphon Empire had been getting more and more belligerent lately, which was why Sixth Fleet had been forward deployed the Pearl a few weeks ago. Tensions between the Empire and Equestria had been growing higher and higher. There were even rumors that war might break out! It was practically unthinkable! Ponies hadn’t been involved in a proper war since the Waring Tribes period, before the rule of the Alicorn Sisters, before even Discord! For all they trained and prepared war was a thing known only in myth and legend.
So it had been an immense relief when the Emperor had decided to send diplomats to Canterlot. Iron had no doubt that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, in their infinite wisdom and kindness, would find a way to calm things down. They had centuries of experience at this sort of thing after all.
Lost I thought, he never noticed the Gryhons diving out of the cloud formation far above. His first sign that anything was amiss was a cry of “Battlestations! Battlestations! Gryphons off the Starboard Bow!”
“Dad? Dad, wake up.” The gentle shaking brought Iron Hooves from his short nap with a start.
“Huh? What? Who’s there?” He mumbled, sitting up straight in his rocking chair. It took his old eyes a moment to focus on the pony before him. His daughter’s smiling visage calmed his suddenly racing heart.
“Darn it Heartstone, don’t go sneaking up on an old stallion like that.” He groused, holding a hoof over his chest. His daughter just smiled and shook her head slightly, before placing an envelope on his lap.
“I’m sorry to wake you dad. But another letter arrived for you. I thought you’d want to see it.”
“Oh. Thank you sweetie.” A shaky hoof made quick work of the envelope. Old eyes took a bit longer to handle the contents. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he reached the end of the letter.
“Bad news Dad?”
“Yeah. It’s a letter from Clear Sight’s son. Seems he won’t be making it next week.” He frowned slightly at the letter before him. “Turns out the poor old bastard passed away almost a month ago.”
Hearstone patted her father on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that dad. I remember you talking about him years ago. You two were pretty close, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, we were real close. Served on the same crew for a while.” He gave a rough chuckle, a grim tone to his words.
“Even shared a room one time.”
The battle had been raging for ten or fifteen minutes, though it felt like an eternity. The sky was filled with smoke and gryphons. Only a hoofull of pegasi were in air. The Empire had picked the perfect time to strike; many of the base’s pegasi were out on a water run. And anypony who tried to take to the air was quickly swamped by gryphons before they could build up enough speed and altitude to meet them on equal terms.
Which left the defense of the fleet to the ground pounders and gunners aboard the airships. Gunners such as himself.
Iron Hoove’s cutie mark was a pair of interlocked hooves made of gray iron. It represented the strength and steadiness of his grip. A useful talent when one was called upon to maneuver the heavy weapons mount and keep it on target.
Stubby steel crossbow bolts poured out of his weapon like a stream of sharpened steel. And where his stream and a target intersected, gryphons died. Beside him the rest of his gun crew worked feverishly, loading more bolts into the firing mechanism, keeping the clockwork and springs tensioned, or using unicorn magic to lighten the mount for easier movement.
With a hard shove Iron swung his bolt thrower to the left, and a pack of three gryphons fell from the sky.
“Good shooting Iron! Six more incoming at 3 o’clock high!” Clear Sight called, the spotter pointing with his hoof.
Standing side by side, both ponies were focused on the mass of gryphons bearing down on them. Neither of them saw the squadron diving towards the Port side of the ship. They didn’t see them weave through the defensive fire, dodging the arcano-disrupter blasts and ignoring the bolt throwers.
Didn’t see the glowing potion bottles in their claws drop free as they broke off their dives.
Didn’t see the magical flames eating through the heavy decking before reaching one of the crystal powder magazines.
Iron Hooves and Clear Sight didn’t see any of that. They only felt the aftermath. The force of the blast. The heat of the flames. And then merciful blackness as they were blasted free of the Harmony, and of consciousness. It was pure luck that there had been a flight of pegasi in place to snag them as they fell.
It was a day and a half later when Iron Hooves awoke in the triage center of Pearl Hospital. He had three broken ribs, severe burns along one side, a severe concussion…
And no ship and duty station to return to.
Laying beside him in the cramped triage center was Clear Sight. The only other survivor of the Starboard Gun Crew Four.
Outside the hospital window, he could still see smoke curling up towards the sky.
Iron Hooves stared at himself in the mirror. Of his once vibrant blue hair there were only a few strands left standing against the onslaught of gray. His coat was faring a bit better, but only because it was closer to gray to start with. Regardless, he’d done all that could be done with comb and hoof to make himself presentable. At least his canvas cap and uniform went a long way towards covering up any imperfections in the pony wearing them.
He’d have been prouder of still fitting into his old uniform if it didn’t hang off of him quite so much. Once upon a time he’d had the musculature to properly fill it out. But time wears down even the tallest mountains.
At least he managed to keep his ‘fruit salad’ and ‘scrambled eggs’ straight and level. The lines of rank insignia, awards, and medals were rather impressive. Iron had spent quite a few years in the service, and none of them were what could be called ‘idle.’ The number of combat citations and battle awards made that perfectly clear.
“You ready to head out Grandpa?” Sharp Eye nosed into the bathroom, then gave a low whistle. “Looking pretty sharp there, Gramps!”
Iron glanced back at his grandson. He wasn’t the only one who’d dressed up this afternoon. The stallion, barely past colthood to Iron’s eye, was decked out in his own (properly fitting) uniform. But whereas his was that of a Petty Officer, Sharp Eye’s was an Ensign.
“Not looking too bad yourself there sonny. Even if you are aiming to be one of them lazy officers.” His smirk and playful tone took all of the bite out of his words, and Sharp rolled his eyes.
“You’re just jealous that I’m just a kid and I already out rank you.” He shot back. His eyes drifted down to the mass of medals and awards on his grandfather’s dress uniform, comparing them to his own mostly bare chest. “Though I suppose those lend a bit more weight to your position.”
“Bah. Damned things carry a lot of weight all right. And most of it weighs on the soul.” He prodded the young pegasus in the chest. “I pray nopony in your generation ever needs half these things pinned to their chest.”
“All right, all right Grandpa. Point taken.” Sharp raised a placating hoof. But then something else caught his eyes. The only non-regulation item his grandfather was carrying. A small glass vial hanging around his neck by a simple piece of string.
“And what’s this, Grandpa? I’ve never seen this leave the mantle over the fireplace.”
Iron’s raised his hoof to grasp the vial, a comforting, reflexive gesture.
“It’s just some old friend, sonny. Just some old friends.” He muttered.
Despite the centuries of unity, Earth Ponies, Pegasi, and Unicorns all retained bits and pieces of their own cultures, including how they honored their dead.
Earth ponies generally preferred to be buried. No embalming or preservation spells. Simply returned to the earth and soil from which they came. Pegasi funerals usually involved cremation, and having their ashes scattered across the sky so that they might fly forever on the winds. Unicorns liked their cemeteries and mausoleums. Monuments, big or small, so that their accomplishments in life would be remembered long after their deaths.
The Harmony has been crewed by almost 1200 ponies of all three tribes. Less than 150 had survived their beloved airship’s destruction. And as Iron Hooves stared at the wreckage of the once proud warship, still smoldering almost five days later, he couldn’t help but reflect that all of the fallen had received their preferred burial in some fashion.
For the earth ponies, the fiery wreck had augured itself deep into the sand and soil when it finally came to rest. For the Pegasi, little remained of the ship and crew but ash. The heat of the fires had been enormous, especially when the rest of the magazines had let go. The ship had burned for three days. Nopony had bee able or been bothered to put it out. They were too busy rescuing the living, and saving what was salvageable.
And for the unicorns, here was a grave marker greater and more terrible than all others. The twisted steel skeleton of the Harmony’s superstructure, blackened and charred, reach up out of the glassy sands like the wings of a skeletal Pegasus reaching for the sky. The sand itself had been fused into molten glass by the heat of the fires. There could be no doubt that it was a marker that would remain for centuries.
Iron stood besides a few dozen of his fellow shipmates. A hooful of the survivors who had asked to be brought out to the crash site to pay their final respects to their brothers in arms. In the distance the sounds of salvage and military preparations were muted to a mere murmur, overwhelmed by the sound of the wind blowing through the debris.
Nopony spoke a word.
Iron grimaced at a twinge of pain along his side. Despite the magical aid, his burns weren’t fully healed. In truth he’d always bear the scars of the Harmony’s destruction, both on his heart and on his hide. Reaching into his saddle bags he withdrew a vial of pain reliever potion to deal with one of those aches.
Finishing the small bottle, Iron returned to staring out at the remains of his ship, and of his friends. His eyes were drawn back to the bottle still in his hoof, the glass reflecting in the sun. And that was when the strange, but oh so right, impulse struck him.
Walking forward past the others, Iron reached down to pick up a hooful of ash, carefully pouring it into the vial.
“What in Tartarus are you doing?” One of his shipmates hissed from behind him. Iron ignored the comment and finished filing the vial before turning around to face the rest of the group.
“This ash is all that’s left of my shipmates. I don’t know about the rest of you lot, but I aim to get some payback.” He finished recorking the bottle, holding it up in front of his face. “And I’m going to carry these ashes with me while I’m at it. So that in some small way my shipmates will be there to see those damned Gryffies get theirs.”
There was a moment of silence as the others stared at each other.
Then, one by one, each stepped forward to scoop up a hooful of ashes into some makeshift container or another.
San Flankcisco’s industrial sector wasn’t exactly a popular gathering place for senior citizens. Not during the middle of the afternoon on a workday. Or at any other time, really. And yet there they stood in front of the Naval Foundry, over thirty elderly ponies wearing their antiquated uniforms, attended to by an equal sized gaggle of children and grandchildren trying to keep an eye on their elders.
Most of whom were of the firm opinion that they had no need for such coddling, of course.
Iron just chuckled at the scene as he approached, amused by all grumpy old sailors and their overprotective offspring.
At least until Sharp View spoke up beside him.
“Are you sure you don’t want you cane Grandpa?”
“For the sixth time, no. I am fine.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes at his own overprotective grandson. He couldn't fault the boy for his concern, but for the Alicron’s sake, he’d spent his youth protecting Equestria from Gryphonic conquest! Surely his family realized he could handle a brief walk!
“Ah, Petty Officer Iron Hooves! Looking as grumpy and severe as ever I see!” Came a voice from his left.
“Lieutenant Quick Strike! Sir!” Iron turned quickly with a smile, managing a quick, almost regulation salute without falling over.
“Now now, none of that Iron. I’m retired, just like everypony else here.” The old unicorn grinned. “Besides, you’re the one who dragged us all out here, so I suppose that puts you in charge of this unruly mob.”
“If you say so, sir.” Iron shot back with a smirk. Swift just shook his head in amusement at the honorific.
“To be honest Iron, I’m surprised to managed to set this all up. How ever did you manage to get permission for a bunch like us to visit a secure military manufacturing facility?”
“Ah, well, I have a few friends in high places. You remember Captain Earnest?”
“Earnest Intent? I know of him, of course. Captain of the HMS Retribution, wasn’t he? Took command right out of the shipyard as I recall. Never had the privileged of sailing with him, mind you.”
“Well, I did. Ran one of his best gun crews. And believe it or not, the old codger is still kicking. Retired as a rear admiral in fact.” Iron smiled. “And he’s not the sort of pony to forget his crew. He was kind enough to pull a few strings for me.”
“Lucky devil. That was one hell of a fighting ship from what I heard. I seem to remember part of Captain Earnest’s commissioning speech from the newspapers. Something along the line’s of ‘This is a fighting ship, and I mean to sail into harm’s way. Anypony who has a problem with that best get off now.’” He chuckled and shook his head. “He was a quite inspiring if rather direct speaker I take it.”
The main doors to the foundry began to open before them, and the crowd of elderly sailors and their young attendants began to slowly shuffle into the factory.
“Yeah, I suppose he was. Blunt as a hammer, but he certainly knew how to motivate his crew.” Iron mumbled.
The HMS Retribution was a fine ship. Brand new and just out of the docks, she was a proper Battle Cruiser. A marriage between a Cruisers speed and a Dreadnought's firepower. The downside was she had armor more akin to a rowboat than an airship of the line.
And after the debacle at Pearl, she was one of the heaviest combatants left in the Equestrian fleet. And would remain that way for some time, depending on how well and how quickly the salvage efforts went.
She was a brand new ship, sleek and modern. Unfortunately, she also carried a brand new crew. The fleet was growing by leaps and bounds. And that meant experienced sailors were being promoted left and right, and being put in charge of the greenest of new recruits.
Which explained why Petty Officer Third Class Iron Hooves was stuck trying to instill some proper discipline into Main Gun Battery two.
One of the newbies actually had the gall to ask if it was ‘fair’ for them to be attacking lightly armed supply ships out in the Great Desert! They were a Battle Cruiser for Diarch’s sake! They were built for raiding supply lines and rear areas!
But the fresh blood didn’t understand. They hadn’t seen the elephant. They hadn’t been at Pearl. Been aboard the Harmony.
He was in the process of correcting one of his loaders stances when a whistle came over the ship’s communicator.
“Now hear this. This is the Captain speaking.” Captain Earnest’s voice came over the communication array. “We have sighed a Gryphon convoy, and are moving to engage.” His eager anticipation could be made out even over the crackly sound of the array.
“Now it has been brought to my attention that some members of my crew are… ‘concerned’… about the ‘fairness’ of attacking a lightly armed convoy.. He snorted. “So, I’m going to ask you all… What is the name of this ship?”
Silence reigned across the vessel as ponies looked at one another in puzzlement.
“Is it… The HMS Harmony? No. Is it… The HMS Friendship? No. No it’s not. How about the HMS Mercy? No, no it’s not that either.” The false cheer of his voice was clear even over the arrays. And then it was gone. Replaced with steel and fire.
“This is the HMS Retribution! We offered the Gryphons Harmony. We offered them Friendship. We offered them Mercy. And what did they do? They spit in our faces and burned them all to ash!” His voice rose as he spoke, each sentence louder and louder.
“Well now they’re going to face us! We are Retribution! We are not here to make friends with the cat-birds or to show them mercy! We are here to destroy them! You ask if it’s fair for us to attack an undefended convoy? It’s a damned sight fairer than their sneak attack on Pearl!” He growled with fiery passion.
“Now, what is the name of our ship?” He demanded.
“The Retribution.” The words were soft and muddled, but there. The entire crew muttering it under their breaths.
“I can’t hear you! What is the name of this ship?
“The Retribution!” This time there was more strength to the words. Everypony said it. A few shouted it. Iron was surprised to realize he was one on them.
“I still can’t hear you! What is the name of this ship?”
“THE RETRIBUTION!” This time the reply was a single shout from eight hundred throats, the sound reverberating throughout the ship and piercing the heavens.
”Damned straight!” Captain Earnest replied, the communicator echoing his shout across the ship. “Now man your battle stations! We have Gryffie supply lines to cut! And a cask of cider goes to whichever gun crew downs the most supply ships! Captain out!”
There was a moment of silence, and Iron could feel his heart pounding in his chest, even as his soul sang in agreement. He hardly noticed the way his hoof was curled around the bottle hanging from his neck. After a moment he shook his head and focused his attention on his gun crew.
“All right maggots! You heard the captain! We’ve got some ships to put down and a lot of Gryffies to leave hungry. So look sharp!” The grin h gave his crew was positively feral. “After all, we’re not going to let those lazy cross-eyed bums in Battery Four steal our cask of cider, are we?”
“Sir, no sir!”
The foundry was a rough, noisy place. And not very big on ceremony. There was work to be done, and the ponies employed there intended to do it. But they had been kind enough to clear an area above one of the massive ladles that would soon be used to pour the structural members for the new Harmony. And out of respect for the old warhorses, the foreman was delaying the noisiest operations for later in the afternoon.
So although the foundry was still a beehive of activity, it was a beehive courteously trying to keep the buzzing to a minimum.
All of which meant that Iron Hooves wouldn’t quite have to shout to be heard over the noise. It wasn’t as if he had that large a group to address in any case. Just a hooful of old fogeys in the front, with the youngsters taking up the rear.
And so he stood in front of the assembled ponies, his back to the bubbling ladle of red hot metal. Staring out at the sea of faces, old and young, he found it difficult to speak. He’d thought he was too old to feel fear anymore, but it turned out that nopony was too old to feel stage fright. He cleared his throat.
“Well, here we all are.” He began, coughing into his hoof. “It’s, ah, good to see all of you here together. I can’t remember the last time this many of us were all in one place...”
“That would be on the Harmony!” Somepony called out from the back with dark humor.
“Yeah, and there were a lot more of us back then too!” Came another elderly voice.
“And we were all young and good looking then too!” Called out a mare.
“Horseapples! I may be old, but I ain’t lost my memory yet! Even all those years ago you had a face like a bowl of burned oatmeal Firefly!”
“Why you…!”
By now the whole assembly was chuckling and laughing, Iron included. Stamping his hooves on the metal grate below him, he smiled, awkwardness forgotten.
“It’s good to see that most of you haven’t changed a bit. Meaning you’ve never grown up.” He growled, and another ripple of laughter flowed through the crowd. “But I asked you all to come here today for something serious.” He continued, hoof rising up to grasp the vial around his neck.
“It seems that the Admiralty, in their infinite wisdom, has finally decided to return the name Harmony to the fleet. It’s been damned near sixty five years, so I’d say it’s about time.” Heads nodded and a murmurer of agreement arose from the crowd before him. “And now here we are. Standing in front of a bunch of lifeless metal that’s going to be the bones of the new Harmony.”
Iron turned to look back at the ladle again. And when he faced the crowd once more, there was a quaver in his voice. Iron had never been much of a speech maker, but these words seemed to pour straight from his heart. And they felt right
“I guess I’ve never really put it into words, but I’ve always felt that ships have a soul. Maybe not when they’re first launched. More like… It’s something that rubs off on them, from every pony that lives and works upon them. All that sweat and blood and fur and flesh building up and sticking around. Like… Like all the little bits of dirt and grease that accumulate in the corners that no amount of swabbing or scrubbing by Seaponies can remove. “ He smiled tiredly, and there was a smattering of laughter inside the otherwise silent foundry. Unknown to Iron and unnoticed by the group, all work across the building was coming to a halt.
“I think all of that builds up to give a ship its soul. And that soul rubs back off onto the ponies that serve on her. The Harmony was one tartarus of a ship. And a lot of ponies lived and work on her over the years. And a lot of them died upon her.” He hoof tightened around the vial, squeezing it snugly before his forced himself to loosen his grip.
Holding it up in front of the audience, he let the light reflect off the glass.
“For four years I carried these ashes with me. Four long, bloody years of war. I saw a lot of terrible things over those years. We all did.” There were somber nods from the crowd now, but not a word was spoken.
“Through it all, even when I stood alone, I always felt like there were ponies beside me. Like my old shipmates from the Harmony were watching out for me. Keeping me on the straight and narrow. Keeping me from getting my fool self killed.”
He raised a leg to his eyes to wipe away a few stray tears. They were blurring his vision, making it double and quadruple. Because, for just a moment, rather than seeing a hooful of decrepit old ponies playing dressup, he saw the foundry floor filled with fresh young faces wearing familiar uniforms. A thousand young stallions and mares smiling kindly up at him, unchanged from that fateful day at Pearl.
When he dried his eyes, they were gone.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed on.
“Well, I’m old now. We all are. Our time has come and gone. There’s a new generation now that needs watching over.” He nodded at his Grandson, standing in the back of the crowd with all the other youngsters, listening with rapt attention. “And I’m hoping that a bit of the old Harmony will carry over into the new. To watch over them.”
Turning around, he took a few careful steps to the edge of the platform, looking down into mass of molten metal below. With a grunt of effort he used his teeth to remove the vial’s cork, exposing it’s contents to the air for the first time in over sixty five years.
Somehow it still smelled just like he remembered on that long ago day.
“Earth ponies want to return from whence they came, pegasi want to fly forever, and unicorns want to be remembered. May all three tribes get their wishes as part of this ship.”
And with those words, he turned the vial over, allowing the ash and debris to fall into the furnace below. Despite the updraft the heat should have created, the flakes fell straight down into the metal, as if weighed down by something heavier than simple carbon.
Iron stepped aside. And one by one a silent procession followed, each old sailor stepping up to the edge, saying a few quiet words, and dumping their container of ashes into the steel below.
It was less than an hour later when Iron Hooves staggered out of the foundry. He wasn’t ashamed to be leaning against his grandson for support. He felt tired. Drained. And yet, at the same time, lighter than he’d felt in ages. It was a good feeling. And maybe relying on the next generation a bit more wouldn’t be so bad either.
“That was… That was really impressive Grandpa. Really… I don’t know.. moving..” The note of awe in his grandson’s voice was, in Iron’s opinion, horribly misplaced.
“It was nothing sonny. I just spoke the truth, as it came to me. It doesn’t really mean anything.” He waved a hoof dismissively.
“I don’t know about that Gramps. A lot of ponies there heard you talking. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the whole place. Ponies are going to remember it.”
“Bah. Who listens to a bunch of old farts like us these days? No one. This was just something I felt we old timers had to do. I guarantee you, twenty years from now, nopony will remember a thing about it.”
“If you say so grandpa.”
“I do. Now come on. We old fogeys are all meeting up at The Prancing Pony for a few drinks and a bit of reminiscing. And I’m sure all the other younglings babysitting us old stallions and mares will be coming along. “ Iron smiled and nudged his grandson. “Including that yellow filly you’ve been keeping a weather eye on all afternoon.”
The blush that covered Sharp Eye’s face let him know he’d scored a direct hit.
“Grandpa!”
“Heh heh. Yep. Still got it.”
1122 Years Later (1001 Celestial Calendar)
“And here your Highness, you can see how we’ve automated the metal pouring process. This has reduced costs and injuries by eighty percent!”
Princess Luna sighed and did her best to feign interest in the tour she was being given. She would freely admit that the arrangement was impressive. Everything in the foundry was remote controlled from the glass enclosed control room she stood within. But it was simply too far removed from her experience and memories.
When she’s selected the naval shipyards for her visit, she had hoped to find something familiar. Some touchstone she could anchor herself with in this strange, foreign age.
Alas, it seemed that it was not to be…
“Foreman, what, pray tell, is going on there?”
The foreman, an earth pony by the name of Timely Delivery, squinted and followed the princesses’ silver clad hoof, glancing out across the foundry floor. There, standing on one of the catwalks above a ladle of molten metal, was a small party of ponies. Several of them quite old. As they watched a small wooden box changed hooves, and one of the older ponies opened it, pouring the contents into the molten steel below.
“Oh, that. That’s just a silly old tradition, your Highness.” Timely Delivery smiled nervously, clearly more comfortable showing off the wonders of modern automation as opposed to ancient traditions.
“Tell me of it.” Luna insisted, eyes still on the ponies on the other side of the glass.
“W.. Well, nopony really knows when or how the tradition started. But whenever a naval airship is, well, lost or destroyed, a few pieces of it are salvaged. If possible. And then thrown into the molten metal of the next ship of the line. The, uh.. the old timers...” He trailed off, as if embarrassed to be passing on old superstitions. “Well, they say it’s to carry the soul of the ship and its crew into the next generation. To watch over them in battle.” He hurriedly explained.
“Not that we see much of that these days, thank the Maker!” Timely added. “These days most of the pieces are salvaged when an airship is sent to the breakers for scrap. The crews still insist on the ceremony mind you. Claim it’s good luck. That it keeps the ship’s soul going, from generation to generation.” He cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed at showing so much sentimentality.
Luna barely noticed. Instead she placed a hoof on the glass and watched the little ceremony conclude, a brilliant smile on her lips.
“Nopony knows the origin of the tradition thou say?” Luna asked.
“Um, yes your highness. So they say.”
“Well then, We shall enlighten thee. Sit down, Timely Delivery, and thou shall hear the tale of the HMS Harmony, and the start of the Great Gryphon War...”
Pics
Excellent use of the prompt here, and I can see how the colors of the chosen artwork inspired the thought of molten metal here. Very cool. Also, the prose runs smoothly, and I had no problem picturing the events. There are some word and tense errors, but given the little time to edit, I don't think that's something anyone should be faulted for. Good craftsmanship at work here.
What made the story fall a bit flat for me was that it didn't really engage me. Concerning characterization, Iron Hooves and all the support characters remain very flat throughout the whole story. The events themselves are not really telling a story, but more of a backstory... at no point in time did I think "I really want to know what happens next." This might work as an epilogue after a longer fic that tells the whole story of the war, with a fully fleshed out Iron Hooves as the protagonist, but standing on its own, it failed to hook me in as a reader.
What made the story fall a bit flat for me was that it didn't really engage me. Concerning characterization, Iron Hooves and all the support characters remain very flat throughout the whole story. The events themselves are not really telling a story, but more of a backstory... at no point in time did I think "I really want to know what happens next." This might work as an epilogue after a longer fic that tells the whole story of the war, with a fully fleshed out Iron Hooves as the protagonist, but standing on its own, it failed to hook me in as a reader.
(Ashes of Harmony)
When I first read the name, I was worried this was going to be trite. I was so very wrong. Old soldiers and old ships… leading to a tradition that would last for over a millennium? Now that’s a good story. What’s more, it felt authentic. It felt real. This is something I could very easily belief has happened here on Earth. Frankly, if it doesn’t at all, I think that’s a crying shame.
Excellent characters. Moving scenes. Interesting bit of lore and legend. Though I was a little mixed on if this was an AU, future or something else (aside from Luna’s appearance later), I think this was a damn fine story. The moment it goes live, it’s hitting my favorite list.
Bravo!
When I first read the name, I was worried this was going to be trite. I was so very wrong. Old soldiers and old ships… leading to a tradition that would last for over a millennium? Now that’s a good story. What’s more, it felt authentic. It felt real. This is something I could very easily belief has happened here on Earth. Frankly, if it doesn’t at all, I think that’s a crying shame.
Excellent characters. Moving scenes. Interesting bit of lore and legend. Though I was a little mixed on if this was an AU, future or something else (aside from Luna’s appearance later), I think this was a damn fine story. The moment it goes live, it’s hitting my favorite list.
Bravo!
Genre: \m/ BOLT THROWER \m/
Thoughts: I cried when it got to the speech part. Like for real, crying. Because I guessed what he was going to do, and to the story's credit, it only got more moving than it already was when he actually did it. So, massive props for building that level of emotional connection to the characters and their story. It seems like it would be way too easy for this kind of a tale of remembrance to go off the rails and end up being maudlin, but this didn't. It was boldly and unabashedly sentimental in the best way possible. Bravo!
The less good stuff for me was the typos and the ending. The typos weren't so bad as to bring the story down too much overall, but they were frequent enough to prove distracting. And as for the ending, I get it that the fact that it starts a tradition might be part of the appeal for some people, but I feel a lot more on the fence. The sudden jump gave me the momentary feeling of a Spongebob gag, and that's not great considering that the emotional climax of the story is so good (and so close to that point). Maybe it's partially the fact that we simultaneously see the tradition and get a resolution of the ponies at war question (which was a great and believable way to show ponies at war by the way) and both things don't get enough oxygen. Or maybe it would help if the pony who explains the tradition happened to have been there for the first one? I dunno.
Honestly I feel like you could cut the ending. Or come up with some other way of showing that the tradition carries on. Or just trust that the all-OC ponies at war have won the day (and the reader's heart) against all odds.
You know what? Screw the nitpicking. This story rocks. The world building is top-notch. The characters and emotions translate over from RL to ponies better than they should. Yeah this needs some cleanup, but it's still a victorious old warhorse.
Tier: Top Contender
Thoughts: I cried when it got to the speech part. Like for real, crying. Because I guessed what he was going to do, and to the story's credit, it only got more moving than it already was when he actually did it. So, massive props for building that level of emotional connection to the characters and their story. It seems like it would be way too easy for this kind of a tale of remembrance to go off the rails and end up being maudlin, but this didn't. It was boldly and unabashedly sentimental in the best way possible. Bravo!
The less good stuff for me was the typos and the ending. The typos weren't so bad as to bring the story down too much overall, but they were frequent enough to prove distracting. And as for the ending, I get it that the fact that it starts a tradition might be part of the appeal for some people, but I feel a lot more on the fence. The sudden jump gave me the momentary feeling of a Spongebob gag, and that's not great considering that the emotional climax of the story is so good (and so close to that point). Maybe it's partially the fact that we simultaneously see the tradition and get a resolution of the ponies at war question (which was a great and believable way to show ponies at war by the way) and both things don't get enough oxygen. Or maybe it would help if the pony who explains the tradition happened to have been there for the first one? I dunno.
Honestly I feel like you could cut the ending. Or come up with some other way of showing that the tradition carries on. Or just trust that the all-OC ponies at war have won the day (and the reader's heart) against all odds.
You know what? Screw the nitpicking. This story rocks. The world building is top-notch. The characters and emotions translate over from RL to ponies better than they should. Yeah this needs some cleanup, but it's still a victorious old warhorse.
Tier: Top Contender
My thougths on this entry will be a mixed between what >>wYvern and >>Novel_Idea have said.
Even though I didn't feel very engaged by the story, it was a pleasant reading and the pace was great.
However, I think you've made the characters' emotion a bit too light. By that, I mean that we don't really see what are their emotions about the events or the others characters (especially during the beginning). You gave us some glimpses but not enough for me. I had to fill the blank too many times and I think that's why I didn't feel that engaged by the story.
A strong mid tier nonetheless.
Even though I didn't feel very engaged by the story, it was a pleasant reading and the pace was great.
However, I think you've made the characters' emotion a bit too light. By that, I mean that we don't really see what are their emotions about the events or the others characters (especially during the beginning). You gave us some glimpses but not enough for me. I had to fill the blank too many times and I think that's why I didn't feel that engaged by the story.
A strong mid tier nonetheless.
Top marks. I found myself getting a little misty toward the end of Iron's speech. I think the skip forward served the story quite well. Traditions are important, and showing us how this one started and how long it has been going on feels fantastic. Allowing Luna to feel lost then unexpectedly reconnected to something was a nice garnish.
You know, one of my pet peeves in ponyfic is stories which include the sudden and shocking twist that all of this cool technology we're seeing was actually from before the Celestial War — especially when we're shown the exact same level of technology 1000 years later. After Celestia banished Luna, she managed to put a millennium of technological, magical and social development completely on pause? Can you imagine that happening on Earth in, say, the 1910s? Sure, (early) automobiles and trains can keep tootling around, but let's quash airplanes, germ theory, vaccines, atomic theory, computers … it keeps going. It's a long list.
How many ponies would she have to straight-up imprison or kill in order to halt research projects? What sort of tyrant would she have to be to halt progress in a technological society? What sort of monster would she have to be to sabotage medical advances, dooming millions of ponies to shortened lives and untreated diseases?
… Which makes it fairly impressive that the reveal didn't especially grate on me here.
I mean, yes, I still have to get over the mental hurdle of Equestria having airships 1000 years ago (and, annoyingly, airship crew being called "seaponies" :facehoof:), but there's enough lampshading in that final scene to salve my outrage. Luna's specifically there looking for some sort of connection to the past, the modern foundry is described vaguely enough that it leaves plenty of room for progress, and the first thing we hear is how automation has changed the industry. Overall I think that last scene still annoys me — and I'm not sure time-skipping to show that the tradition survives ultimately adds much to your story — but if you're going to do that, that's the way to.
Anyway!
This story felt like it accomplished its storytelling goals, and I'm especially a fan of the way that it ran with a literal prompt interpretation to draw emotional impact from an unusual angle. The character work felt much more hit-and-miss; Sharp Eyes just felt sort of annoying to me, and I never connected with (older) Iron Hooves, but the flashback sequences largely pulled their weight as a war story. (An exception: Capt. Earnest's speech was some serious scenery-chewing.) Some of the little details were elegant, like the different funeral rites of different tribes. And while I'm still dubious on the final scene, I think the bit about the soul of a ship worked well as an overarching theme — especially within the context of Equestria, where that can have more literal significance. (In fact, I'd recommend ditching or downplaying the skepticism in the final scene — maybe they do it because of superstition and don't know its significance, but treating it only as superstition seems to me to be a missed opportunity.)
It didn't excite me overall, but held together enough to feel like a worthy story as-is.
Tier: Strong
How many ponies would she have to straight-up imprison or kill in order to halt research projects? What sort of tyrant would she have to be to halt progress in a technological society? What sort of monster would she have to be to sabotage medical advances, dooming millions of ponies to shortened lives and untreated diseases?
… Which makes it fairly impressive that the reveal didn't especially grate on me here.
I mean, yes, I still have to get over the mental hurdle of Equestria having airships 1000 years ago (and, annoyingly, airship crew being called "seaponies" :facehoof:), but there's enough lampshading in that final scene to salve my outrage. Luna's specifically there looking for some sort of connection to the past, the modern foundry is described vaguely enough that it leaves plenty of room for progress, and the first thing we hear is how automation has changed the industry. Overall I think that last scene still annoys me — and I'm not sure time-skipping to show that the tradition survives ultimately adds much to your story — but if you're going to do that, that's the way to.
Anyway!
This story felt like it accomplished its storytelling goals, and I'm especially a fan of the way that it ran with a literal prompt interpretation to draw emotional impact from an unusual angle. The character work felt much more hit-and-miss; Sharp Eyes just felt sort of annoying to me, and I never connected with (older) Iron Hooves, but the flashback sequences largely pulled their weight as a war story. (An exception: Capt. Earnest's speech was some serious scenery-chewing.) Some of the little details were elegant, like the different funeral rites of different tribes. And while I'm still dubious on the final scene, I think the bit about the soul of a ship worked well as an overarching theme — especially within the context of Equestria, where that can have more literal significance. (In fact, I'd recommend ditching or downplaying the skepticism in the final scene — maybe they do it because of superstition and don't know its significance, but treating it only as superstition seems to me to be a missed opportunity.)
It didn't excite me overall, but held together enough to feel like a worthy story as-is.
Tier: Strong
Very much a "for somebody, but not for me" story.
Don't have much to say here. It is quite competent (though there are some editorial errors that'll need clean up, minor wrong words, that sort of thing). Just... not a story that really hooked me, but I suspect that's more a little less interest in the core of the subject material.
I will say I'm not a huge fan of the use of "Pearl" here. I don't like homaging that sort of thing too directly in pone. But that's a personal taste matter.
Don't have much to say here. It is quite competent (though there are some editorial errors that'll need clean up, minor wrong words, that sort of thing). Just... not a story that really hooked me, but I suspect that's more a little less interest in the core of the subject material.
I will say I'm not a huge fan of the use of "Pearl" here. I don't like homaging that sort of thing too directly in pone. But that's a personal taste matter.