And we return to the adventures of Daring Do!

"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)

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.

Sixth mission report.

I didn’t break. Legate Jua got nothing from me. She never will.

The poisons she used to interrogate me still course through my body. I don’t have an antidote. I don’t know how long I’ll last, but I’m not counting on making it out of the Tenochtitlan Basin. Have I mentioned that I hate this place?

I don’t trust my escape. It was too easy. I suspect Jua is hoping I’ll lead her to the Amulet of Atonement. If so, she has another thing coming.

Luna’s army will have to retrieve the Amulet of Atonement. I’m leaving you a trail of breadcrumbs, and then I’ll deal with Jua myself.

The Amulet is hidden in a unique chest locked with a very special lock, one that the Spirit who powers the Amulet created for me. For specifics on how these locks work, read my book, Daring Do and the Tree of Life.

Quick overview: Doctor Caballeron was after the Tree of Life, and he had the backing of Roam. With the Legion of Roam at his disposal, he could blast and tear his way through the jungle to get to it. The Tree was hidden in a sacred grove sealed behind a mystical lock that the Spirit of Life within the tree had created. The key was disguised as a historical artifact, and would only reveal its true form when brought to the lock by someone whose dominant virtue was ambition. And that meant if I was going to get to the Tree of Life before Caballeron, I had to team up with Ahuizotl.

At least my fans enjoyed that.

I find myself wondering what things would be like now if I had chosen to team up with Jua instead. Fortunately, the key to the Amulet’s chest requires a personality trait Jua is distinctly lacking.

Sixth Pad Begins

Sixth Pad -- a rough draft excerpt from

Chapter 5: Alea Iacta Est

As a youth, pulp adventure stories were my addiction, one that led me to invest in courses on literature and writing at Baltimare University. It was during one such lesson, wherein we were studying a series of poetic tales based loosely upon historical events, that our teacher extolled a particular truth of storytelling: the story is in how we get to the ending, not the ending itself. It is the engagement of the journey that enthralls the reader, even if the final outcome is known from the beginning.

As is the nature of a prequel, long-time readers of my adventures will be a step ahead of the narrative. Elements of this tale have made their appearances in previously written stories of Daring Do and will be familiar. Few quotes have been the subject of as much conjecture amongst Daring Do fans as her comment in Daring Do and the Griffin’s Goblet when first the Amulet of Atonement is mentioned.

“I am familiar with it.”

There are moments in our lives that weigh heavily on us. Events that forever alter the trajectory of our destiny. They change us, and in doing so change everything. No matter how much we attempt otherwise, we cannot fully sever their influence, nor escape the chain of consequences set into motion by their happening.

It was a muggy summer evening with twilight darkening the sky when I last saw A.K. Yearling.

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

The front door of the ambassadorial manor hung open and askew, torn free from one of its hinges. Daring Do’s heart sank in her breast as she landed before the violated house.

“A.K.!” Daring Do shouted as she raced up the path and through the broken entrance. The Quetzalcóatl cultists had gotten here first! She skidded to a stop, her eyes going wide at the sight of a cloaked body crumpled over a broken hutch table, surrounded by shards of pottery.

The cultists were after an amulet, and if it had not been aboard the Uasi, then Daring feared that they would strike here. She’d flown as fast as her wings would carry her, but it still wasn’t fast enough. As she ran from the foyer into the dining hall, nearly tripping over another cloaked body, she heard a shout and the sound of heavy impacts somewhere upstairs.

“A.K. hold on, I’m coming!”

As Daring charged into the next room, half of the dining table flew at her, bucked with great force. She dove to the floor, feeling sharp shards of broken glass cut into her hooves and legs as the heavy wood smashed into the wall above her, pulverizing a brass candle sconce. The table rebounded from the wall, bits of wax candles raining down, and thudded down next to Daring Do, between her and the attacker.

Someone in the room spat out something spiteful the zebra tongue.

Daring Do brushed away as much of the glass as she could, then pushed herself out from behind the table.

The dining hall was painfully wrecked. Pictures hung askew or had been torn from the wall, their frames splintered. The center table was split in two. Chairs were toppled. The only meager light came from the last rays of evening seeping through broken windows and tattered curtains. The floor was littered with broken glass from the windows and pictures. Dead ashes and charred wood scattered out from the fireplace. The mounted heads of dead animals stared down in the darkness accusingly.

She spotted the zebra, his cloak askew, one eye bruised and bloodied shut, standing over the fallen body of a young mare in a floral dress. Any another setting, Daring Do could believe she was just sleeping. Her pith hat lay upturned nearby, amongst spilled fruit. A sharp metal shaft jutted out from beneath the forehoof crossbow on the zebra’s raised hoof.

Daring Do was just in time to see the zebra cultist plunge the blade of the dagger into A.K. Yearling’s breast. The mare screamed.

“NO!”

Daring Do threw herself at the cultist. The two tumbled across the floor. The zebra bucked Daring off, sending her flying into the fireplace mantle. She dropped to the floor amongst the ashes, scattering them further. The blunderbuss and its powder horn clattered to the floor next to her.

The assassin shouted something triumphant, turning back towards the moaning A.K. Yearling. He was intent on finishing the job, a driven gleam in his eyes. He was distracted by a loud, splintering sound from one of the rooms above.

Daring Do grasped at the blunderbuss and shouted, aiming it at the zebra. The cultist turned to Daring Do, eyes wide. Then laughed as Daring Do fumbled with the strange weapon, unable to make it work. The zebra lifted his hoof, pointing the hoof-mounted crossbow at Daring Do’s neck. The tip of the flamewood arrow flickered with bright orange fire.

Daring Do stomped, breaking off the cork of the powder horn, then spun, her tail whipping the powder horn towards the zebra. Black powder flew into his face in a cloud, igniting from the fire arrow in an understated whoop and an instant blaze of light. The cultist screamed as his face and breast were seared by flame. He stumbled back, a foreleg lifting to cover his eyes. His scream was cut short as Daring’s backhooves slammed into his underside, cracking ribs and sending him flying.

Daring Do rolled onto her hooves, wincing as bits of glass pushed deeper, and dashed to A.K. Yearling’s side. The mare was breathing raggedly, a great red stain spreading over her dress. “Daring…” she gasped hoarsely, her teary eyes focusing on him with difficulty. “… friend… mine…”

“Yes,” Daring Do said, holding a hoof to her lips. “Don’t talk. I’ll get you to a doctor. You’ll be fine.” She dipped her muzzle into her breast pocket, pulling out one half of the friendship necklace. “See, friends. Forever.” She put the necklace around her friend’s neck. “Now you hold on…”

“Tell Goldentongue…” she whispered, blood bubbling up from her muzzle with every word, “…I’m sorry.”

“No,” Daring Do repeated. “Don’t talk. Just hold on.” Even as she spoke, A.K. went limp, a soft gurgling sound escaping her. “You’ll… you’ll be fine,” Daring told her again, tears streaming down her face. She knew her friend couldn’t hear her anymore.

Daring Do held her friend’s body, crying over her quietly.

A resounding crash pulled her back from the depths of her mourning. Two zebras smashed through the railing on the second floor hallway and slammed into the ground just beyond the dining hall. One, another cloaked cultist, lay still against the floor, having taken the worst of the fall. The other rose shakily to his hooves. Daring Do recognized Mhudumu, Goldentongue’s servant. His injuries looked severe.

“Daring Do!” he spoke in surprise. “I am thankful to see you.”

Daring Do didn’t move. “A.K.’s...” It hurt to say the words, as if saying them made it real. “…dead.”

“I am sorry, young miss Do. I cared deeply for her too.” He frowned. “But right now the world needs you. There is something you must do.”

Daring Do stared at him uncomprehendingly until Mhudumu pulled out a silver-chained necklace. From it hung an amulet of dark metal with a star sapphire set into the center, surrounded by a motif of tears.

Daring Do’s jaw dropped. It was beautiful. For a moment, a sad, deep light glowed from the center of the stone. In that light, the pain of her friend’s death lost its sharpest edges, becoming more bearable.

“I serve the Senate of the Caesar’s Roam,” Mhudumu explained. “To watch Goldentonuge, I made this place home.”

Daring Do gasped. “You’re a spy!”

“This is the Amulet of Atonement,” Mhudumu said. “I’m in no condition to protect it. To Quetzalcóatl, it must never go. Take this to my friend in Bahari Soko.”

Daring Do stared into the light of the Amulet and she understood. This is what the cultists of Quetzalcóatl came here for. This is why they caused so much destruction and pain. She wasn’t about to let them have it.

But, she realized, she had no idea how to find Mhudumu’s friend. Or even who he was. Couldn’t she take it to the authorities? “How about the primi ordines?”

“Only if you must. Your judgement I must trust.” Mhudumu shook his head slowly. “Jua’s loyalty is to the Legion, not to Caesar. It would not be wise to give to her this much power.”

Daring Do nodded solemnly as Mhudumu passed her the Amulet. It felt heavy in her hooves, like the metal and stone weighed much more than it should. As she held it, a resolve passed over her, making her look down at A.K. Yearling’s body. Her dress was almost entirely crimson from her blood. Daring Do’s eyes moved to A.K.’s fallen pith hat. Standing, Daring Do put the necklace around her neck, hiding the Amulet within her jacket, then scooped up the hat with her tail and placed in on her head.

“Daring!” she heard a voice call out from outside. She turned towards the window in time to see Fleetwing land, setting Bluebell onto her hooves in the grass, the two of them barely visible in the descending dark. They had followed her from the Uasi. (She suspected Fleetwing would have beaten her here if he had not been carrying his marefriend.)

“Soon more servants of the Dark Empress will surely appear,” Mhudumu warned. “Bring my friend Imani the necklace. You must not be here.”

Daring Do turned to Mhudumu. “What about you?”

“Miss Do, do not fear,” The battle-battered zebra gave her a smile of bloodied teeth. “I will keep them here.”

“Daring Do!” Bluebell called from the broken doorway. Daring Do swallowed and nodded, then lifted the body of A.K. Yearling onto her back with a wing. He blood was still warm, and began to soak into Daring Do’s jacket.

Daring Do choked back another sob. As she carried her friend’s body out of the room, she stepped across the crumpled body of the cult assassin. She paused, staring. The zebra didn’t move, but the gently rise and fall of his breast betrayed that he was still alive merely unconscious.

Part of Daring Do wanted to raise her hoof and stomp down on his neck. End him, like he had ended A.K. Yearling. But her better pony fought down the black urge. Not even murder justified murder. And the zebra’s death would not bring her friend back. Or make the pain any less.

She turned and galloped out the door, passing a shocked Bluebell as she ran into the night.

“What in Tartarus?” Fleetwing shouted. “By Celestia! Daring Do!” The pegasus immediately began to chase after her, followed by Bluebell.

Tears were streaming down Daring Do’s face again, blurring her vision as she hit the street and turned towards Mwanzo Mpya.

Daring Do stumbled, wincing. She spread her wings, lifting off the ground, then pulled a shard of glass from her left forehoof with her teeth. She was bleeding from a dozen small cuts, and her body ached badly. Three fights in one day was a record, and these hadn’t been schoolyard tussles.

Fleetwing took to the air. He flew beside Daring, keeping pace as he stared at the blood-soaked body on her back. “Who is that? Is she dead? What happened?”

Spitting out the glass, Daring Do answered, “She’s A.K. Yearling. She was Goldentongue’s goddaughter. And my friend.” She almost growled. She felt like shouting. Why did she even have to explain that? “One of those cultists killed her, and I’m going to make sure…” Make sure what? That she got a proper burial?

Daring Do’s mind conjured images of more cultists descending on the manor and burning it to the ground. Or killing Mhudumu and leaving the bodies to bloat in the jungle heat.

“The ambassador had a daughter?” Fleetwing asked, confused. Daring Do beat her wings forward, stopping to glare.

How could Fleetwing not remember her? Sure, he hadn’t spent hours with her under the ambassador’s willow tree fantasizing about futures involving establishing world-renowned museums or collaborating on best-selling novels. He hadn’t flown high over Mwanzo Mpya, carrying her while she pointed out the distant ziggurats in the Tenochtitlan Basin, talking about them by name. He hadn’t pestered a photographer into taking their picture. He hadn’t even interacted with her at that first dinner. But he had been there, and she had been there, and shouldn’t Fleetwing at least remember that?

Fleetwing shot past as Daring Do suddenly stopped. He blinked, slowing to a hover, and turned to see Daring Do’s angry expression. Daring Do wobbled in the air, A.K. Yearling’s weight heavy on her back. As she opened her mouth to shout at Fleetwing, Bluebell caught up, panting. She looked at Daring Do and the limp, scarlet-soaked mare on her back. “Celestia! Daring, I’m sorry. I think...”

Whatever Bluebell thought went unspoken, or at least unheard. Daring Do’s shout was likewise silent. Even the buzz of the mosquitoes had vanished. The trio of ponies looked around in alarm. The street was dark, surrounded by blackest shadows on each side. All sound had been wiped from the world around them.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. Tall, gaunt, with a featureless face. Tendrils of darkness writhed from its back, somehow darker than the utter blackness around him. Those tendrils reached out towards Daring Do.

Daring Do dropped to her hooves, taking a fighting stance. Her body protested. She’d bee through too much today already. But she wasn’t going to let this thing take the Amulet of Atonement.

Utter panic flooded Daring Do when the tendrils of black instead wrapped around A.K. Yearling’s body and lifted her from Daring Do’s back. She screamed silently as she felt the weight lift from her.

No! You can’t have her!

The faceless head of the slender, stripeless zebra seemed to stare into Daring Do, even though it had no eyes. A rush of memories flooded up from her mind, jumbled and unbidden.

“But…” snapped Fleetwing as he confronted her on the deck of the Uasi.

“She…” said Goldentongue as he trotted down the gangplank of the Mzigo Msichana.

“Is...” Bluebell asked, looking at the blunderbuss.

“Mine...” whispered A.K. Yearling, dying.

No! Daring Do repeated in a voiceless shout, wincing from the mental barrage. She took a step forward, crouching to launch herself at the creature. It seemed unconcerned. What stopped Daring Do was the body of A.K. Yearling. As it floated in the air between them, the friendship necklace dangling from around her neck, she began to fade. As the trio stared, A.K. Yearling became translucent, then transparent.

Then she disappeared altogether.

A moment later, the buzz of the mosquitoes returned. The sounds of the jungle and the scattered noises of the town ahead continued. The slender, featureless zebra was gone.