And now for more of...

"Origin Story" was originally conceived of then abandoned as a fanfiction. Now, it has been reincarnated as part of a Fallout: Equestria tabletop roleplaying adventure. Each segment that I post consists of a report by Daring Do while on a mission for wartime Equestria, followed by a few pages of rough draft for a Daring Do prequel, intended to be used as a cryptography OTP. Each of these "pads" amounts to the most crucial part of what would have been a story chapter.

Previous Pads:

Origin Story (Prologue & Framing)

Origin Story (Part One)

Origin Story (Part Two)

Origin Story (Part Three)

Origin Story (Part Four)

Origin Story (Part Five)

Origin Story (Part Six)

Origin Story (Part Seven)

Please enjoy!

As always with Origin Story, please let me know if you stumble across any errors in this writing. Nothing here has been through a proper editor.

Ninth mission report.

The Legion has set up their based camp at Fortress of Talikon… or what’s left of it. It’s the last place I ever expected to return to, but the chains forged in the past just won’t let me go. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think irony was conspiring against me.

Of course, I do know better. They’re here because somewhere in the chambers beneath this fortress is the focal point of the Radiant Shield of Rasdon – a massive, basin-spanning artifact ignited through the Amulet of Atonement. To the best of the Legionnaires' knowledge, that’s what they are here for. Jua didn’t tell them about her mad plans to open Tartarus and usher a spiritual renaissance… or whatever she thought she was going to do.

The last time I was here, Rainbow Dash and I brought this fortress to the ground. That was the day I finally broke free of the my self-imposed solitude. That first lesson – the rule that I could trust no one else with my responsibilities – was the hardest to unlearn. I can only guess what it cost me all those years in between.

Jua was never shackled by that lesson. She didn’t work alone.

The destruction of the ledge drew attention. It took less than a minute for Jua’s elite guards to swoop into the Kutengwa Abyss – zebras with talismans that caused wings to burst from their backs. (Jua owned such a talisman too. That’s what was behind her “be up there in a moment” boast. But growing wings through those talismans is neither instant nor painless, and Jua’s had only begun to tear out of her body when the explosion was triggered.) Jua’s elite guards swept the abyss for her, but there was no zebra, living or dead, to recover. Jua is gone.

It took them only a few minutes more to find me. They had to pull me out of my jacket; it is still glued to the underside of the bridge across the Kutengwa Abyss.

Some of them wanted to slay me then and there, but their tribuni decided I was too valuable to waste so quickly. Whether as a source of information or an example, I can’t tell. Either way, as the poison has left me too weak to escape or resist, and I will never betray anything I know, I suspect a quick trial and public execution are in my near future.

Still, I’ve gotten out of worse.

Only one thing’s certain. I’m going to Roam.

Ninth Pad Begins

Ninth Pad -- a rough draft excerpt from

Chapter 8: Reditus In Gratiam

Taking in evidence from the breadth of my travels, I have come to the conclusion that the practice of trade, the foundation of mercantilism as we know it, was first developed by the zebras. I believe that the zebras were taught the power of barter by the spirits of their land. In their assuredness of the distinction of Equestrian culture, those professors of my youth, Underhill and his lot, would have considered these notions scandalous.

To claim that zebras “do not think as we do” is to invite prejudice into your heart. Such statements suggest a difference in faculties; the gifts of thought, perception and imagination are shared by all intelligent creatures equally. Yet it is true that those who live within a culture have values and conceptions that are molded by that culture, and the culture of the zebra lands places distinctive emphasis on duty, obligation, responsibility and ownership in ways that our own does not.

For a pony to purchase, say, a rifle from Ironshod Firearms, that pony is merely purchasing an item, and the company is merely selling one. There is no inherent morality involved in the sale. The burden of responsible use of the item is upon the one who uses it. But to the zebra, the transaction has a deeper layer: the seller is transferring responsibility, and buyer is taking upon herself accountability for the weapon’s use.

Similarly, a Canterlot doctor who saves a life is not seen in our society as taking upon herself responsibility for the actions of her patient. Nor has the saved forfeited their freedom. Amongst the zebra, being released from a healer’s care is an implicit contract, absolving the caregiver of both liability and authority, and returning those to the healed.

While the end results may appear the same, the philosophical undercurrents of these interactions are starkly different, and must be understood in order for an outside to truly fathom the harmony of the daily activities around them, or to grasp the most esoteric elements one may find within the zebra lands.

To ponies, the term “atonement” means “doing what is necessary to make reparation for a crime, misdeed or injuring act you have committed”. Atonement, in our cultural perception, is individual. And, as such, it is difficult for us to imagine what power an artifact such as the Amulet of Atonement might possess. How, we ask ourselves, does this magical thing aid us in fixing our mistakes?

Nay. But to the zebra, atonement is substitutive. Atonement is an act performed by one on another’s behalf to commute or satisfy a moral debt. An act of atonement is the paying of another’s ransom, to give of oneself for another’s release. Within the courts of Roam, atonement is the means of securing the release of another, often a loved one, who has been sentenced for a crime – a practice that reflects the tradition of bartering with spirits to fulfill a shaman’s promise or debt. But in dealing with spirits, how does one offer atonement if one isn’t a shaman herself? A bridge is needed.

Once this is understood, the nature and power of the Amulet of Atonement become clear.

~-------~ oOo ~-------~

Despite the pain, Daring Do’s swift wings carried her to the temple. She could hear the rhythm of beaten drums rolling from the top of it like building thunder. Low chants. Haunting music as if from an ethereal pan flute. The ritual was was already under way.

Daring barely reached the amphitheatre that crowned the Temple of the Quetzalcóatl Empress when the whole world seemed to shift sideways.

Dozens of zebra cultists lined the steps that fanned upwards from the center stage. Upon it, a raised dais overlooked a black well. Obsidian stones ringed a hole that plunged down through the heart of the temple and the world. What loomed at the bottom of that hole was a passage into Tartarus; the zebras called it the Orcus Pit. A hot wind heaved and sighed up from it, like breathing.

The cover stone for the well lay not far from it, tangled in ropes. The eight zebras who had pulled it from its place were still breathing heavily from the effort. On the dais above the well, the Quetzalcóatl Priestess stood, adorned in robes of serpent scale and a headdress of brilliant feathers. Daring Do was just in time to see the pony with the red hat pass the Amulet of Atonement to her, smiling with smug satisfaction.

“Stop!” Daring Do tried to shout over the beating of the drums. But in that moment, as the Quetzalcóatl Priestess accepted the Amulet, the chants and drums fell silent. Daring Do’s shout was the only sound, and it tore through the assemblage like a crack of lightning.

Everyone turned to face her. Daring Do suddenly felt terrifyingly outnumbered. She searched for something fearless to say.

The Quetzalcóatl Priestess lifted the Amulet of Atonement over her neck. “Upatanisho. Mimi wito roho. Reditus in gratiam!”

The star sapphire in the center of the Amulet burst with light – a silvery blue light that washed out over the amphitheatre, enveloping the crown of the temple. Within the light, things moved. Shapes and creatures of strange substance and intent.

The Quetzalcóatl Priestess was surrounded with a nimbus of light the color of tears, the Amulet of Atonement’s stone glowing only with a faint spark now. All the other cultists seemed to fade in the light, the people and things of Daring Do’s world seeming less substantial in the waking dream that had swallowed them. Only the Quetzalcóatl Priestess seemed truly there... and the pony with the red hat. He shared the same aura, if much fainter. And from the way he was staring at Daring Do, she didn’t have to look at her hooves to realize she was glowing too. Within the last hour, all three of them had held the Amulet of Atonement.

The black well was also very real. The darkness within it had grown more vibrant, a void pulsing in the light. The wind from the pit had grown into a roar.

The pony in the red hat jumped from the dais, hitting the center stage at a gallop. Before Daring Do could react, the things in the light lunged for the pony. They took the shape of zebras... but with bodies made not of flesh but of brambles, knives and razor wire. They fell on the pony with the red hat and he screamed and screamed.

The screaming stopped. As did the roar of the wind and every other sound. A shadow swam over Daring Do. She turned to see the Faceless.

Daring Do’s grip on the world around her slid away as a barrage of memories flooded her mind. A cacophany of voices from her past fought for dominance like a raging tempest in her head.

Then the tempest quieted, the world stilled, and she was staring at the face of A.K. Yearling. They were together, laying on the grass beneath the ambassador’s willow tree as they had that one afternoon, dreaming up the great novels they were going to write and the discoveries they were going to make.

“It... is... the... bridge...” A.K. Yearling said softly. The words were oddly stilted. In the back of her mind, Daring Do knew it was not A.K. speaking to her at all, but the Faceless. “It... facilitates... the... trade...” The spirit of whispers was putting her words together like a jigsaw puzzle. “One... for... another...” Drawing not from all the words A.K. Yearling had ever spoken, not just those from Daring’s memories of her. “Atonement.” The Faceless could speak with all the things she said that were forgotten. “Back... into... favor.”

Why are you telling me this? Daring Do asked silently. But even as her mouth formed the soundless words, she understood. With A.K. Yearling’s words came a blossoming of knowledge, the revelation of secrets. A.K. Yearling’s life, the memories of her, had been bartered to this spirit for secrets, and it was here to fulfill its part of the bargain.

Daring Do knew, quite suddenly and completely, the power and purpose of the Amulet of Atonement. Nor was she the only one. By the provisions of the trade, the Faceless was sharing the secret of the Amulet with several chosen parties – somewhere Goldentongue, Mhalifu and Mhudumu were all learning the same, possibly others -- but not everyone learning this secret would be close enough to act on it.

It’s a trade! Daring Do spoke without sound. The priestess is going to set the Quetzalcóatl Empress free by taking Her place in Tartarus!

“Atonement...” the memory of Mhudumu said.

“Atonement...” the memory of the pony in the red hat repeated.

“Atonement.” the memory of A.K. Yearling echoed.

“Reditus in gratiam; redire in gratiam.”

Sound crashed back in on Daring Do. The air was filled with shouts and screams. Not the screams of the pony with the red hat; he was now nothing but a red stain. The spirits had collected on the debt of his transgressions through agony to the point of death. Instead, the cries were coming from everywhere around her. The cries of battle.

Daring Do looked up through the silvery blue light. Two airships hung above the temple’s crown. One was the Uasi. The other was a Legion dirigable. Small cannons from the dirigable tore apart the clusters of cultists, carefully aiming clear of the center stage and its well, while armed and armored legionarre zebras decended on ropes. On the bowsprit, Jua barked orders, a legion spear held aloft in her tail. Next to her, a familiar young pegasus watched, scanning the mileu.

Fleetwing had gone for help. And he had brought back the army.

Daring Do spun and charged through the air towards the Quetzalcóatl Priestess. The priestess was nearly finished with her invocation to the spirits. Her words filled the light-swalllowed amphitheatre. “Reditus in gratiam...”

An irrational but insistant thought burned through Daring Do’s mind. She was going to stop this ritual, rip the Amulet of Atonement from the priestess, and use it herself. She was going to trade places with A.K. Yearling! She would be forgotten and A.K. would be remembered.

The Quetzalcóatl Priestess to speak when Daring Do slammed into the zebra, knocking the wind from her and hurling her from the dais. The Amulet of Atonement soared out of her grasp.

Daring Do rose up over the priestess, looking about for the Amulet. With a gasp, she dove to the side as cultist archers filled the air where she had been with arrows. Daring dove for the cover of the dais.

The dais began to fill with arrows.

The Quetzalcóatl Priestess groaned. Her headdress was askew, her mane sticking out in tufts on one side. She cried out in alarm and rage as she looked at her hooves and found the Amulet was not there.

From her cover, Daring Do looked about frantically for the Amulet of Atonement. The priestess pulled herself to her hooves and began looking too. Like a dream, the battle raged all about them. Arrows flew and swords clashed. Bodies were falling and blood was spilling. Cannons tore into the temple steps, scattering enemies whenever they attempted to regroup.

The Quetzalcóatl Priestess seemed to spot the Amulet first. She broke into a mad gallop towards the well’s cover stone and its tangled ropes. But several zebra landed upon it, drawing cutlasses and nets. Crew from the Uasi. They swiftly engaged her in battle, and those who remained of the eight stone-movers dove to her aid with hoof-bows and blades.

With one canon blast, the flurries of arrows pinning Daring Do behind the dais stopped.

Daring Do vaulted from cover, skirting the edge of the melee, trying to spot what the priestess had seen through the fighting mass.

“...Redire in gratiam!” cried out a familiar voice, cutting through the sounds of battle.

Daring Do turned, her eyes going wide. Upon the dais, with the Amulet of Atonement in her hoof, stood Mhalifu, the captain of the Uasi.

“The trade is made,” she cried out above the din of battle. “Ahuizotl! My place for yours!”

Mhalifu dove into the Orcus Pit.