Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...

...there came an era when the ideals of friendship gave way to greed, selfishness, paranoia and a jealous reaping of dwindling space and natural resources.  Lands took up arms against their neighbors.   The end of the world occurred much as we had predicted -- the world was plunged into an abyss of balefire and dark magic.  The details are trivial and pointless. The reasons, as always, purely our own.  The world was nearly wiped clean of life.  A great cleansing; a magical spark struck by pony hooves quickly raged out of control.  Megaspells rained from the skies.  Entire lands were swallowed in flames and fell beneath the boiling oceans.  Ponykind was almost extinguished, their spirits becoming part of the ambient radiation that blanketed the lands.  A quiet darkness fell across the world...

...But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world.  Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue for another bloody chapter in pony history.  In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters known as Stables.  But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them.  All except those assigned to Stable 144 , tucked away in the metro tunnels of Stalliongrad. The giant steel door swung closed, only to open after a single month.

Fallout: Equestria - Loshadinyĭstan


I'm not a filly. I mean, I am a fill- I'm a mare, a grown mare. A uh, mostly... grown mare. I'm not a fill- a foal, I mean. Is what I meant. ... Fuck.

Starting over. My name. Yeah, good. My name is Hoofsong, with an "f." You pronounce it like a "v," but there's no "es," there's no "zzz" sound. "Huvsong." Ponies're always getting it wrong. Most people just call me "Song" though. I was supposed to be a dancer. I have the build for it; dainty hooves, graceful limbs, lotsa strength in my core and flanks. Dancing's not much good here though. Skills transfer to bucking flank pretty well. You should see me with a knife. Or empty-mouthed even. Most ponies think I'm pulling some zebra shit, like Doombunny or Caesar, but I'm actually into karaguchi, the Japoniese art of empty-mouthed combat. Compared to say, Fallen Caesar, karaguchi's focused less on nerves and pain, more on bones and damage. Hoof strikes, hard bucks, and neck-grapples instead on flips and sharp pokes. Doesn't put 'em down as fast, but keeps 'em down longer.

Last name is Pommel. Great grandmum was a gymnast. Mum said I looked like her. I got the build from her. The balance, flank strength, and coordination too. Great gymnasts, Loshadinyĭstanis.

Apparently. I don't remember. I do remember the Old World though; I'm not quite as young as I look. Yeah, I'm just minted, but I'm a bit of a late bloomer, not to mention I earned that ponyshoe-shaped squiggle on my ass with hard work and prodigious skill. Yeah, I said squiggle. I'm a zebroid. A little bit. On mum's side. The grandmum that wasn't a gymnast. Her dad.

Anyway, so about ten years ago, balefire shat up the metro. And everything else too, I guess. Metro's the important bit. My partents and little filly me and a flank-load of others scamper into Stable 144 and hide out for, I don't know, month or two. Then it's like, no booms, no radiation, no nothing, so Overmare says let's open 'er up and check. Turns out it's pretty shit. Shitty, I mean. Ponies charged the door with rocks and pipes and shit. When they wouldn't listen to the Overmare, Dad and the rest of Stable security opened fire.

They only killed a couple. Most surrendered, but some ran off. They came back with friends and the same thing happened over and over. Dad did good in the first and second charges, was off-duty for the third, only to come back and get his head smashed in the fourth. There'd been a few deaths by then, so dwellers were pissed. They went proactive, following the attackers once they retreated, forcing surrender (or delivering executions) when they caught them. That's how the Dweller settlement really got started. The united ponies fortified the near tunnels and integrated a couple outsiders into the Stable council. Mum was important there: she'd been an advertiser before the War (her special talent), so she knew the exact words to make ponies like the ideas she wanted them to like.

That's when Grace joined our family. She'd always been close, a  college-friend of Mum's who lived next door and raised me like a third parent (Dad used his pull with Stable-Tec to get her a room), but after Dad died, she moved in with us, giving up her Stable room for tunnel survivors. Grace is my idol and my opposite. I'm short in the shoulder like my Mum, but Grace is built like a draft stallion. Her cream coat contrasts my gray-striped navy, her bright gold mane my dull brown. We have things in common though too. She taught me everything about karaguchi, though I've surpassed her in technique and made up a few moves. We enjoy the same music and the same food. Most importantly, I think, she supplemented my Mum's "Facts of Life" talk with a few bits of information for "mares of a different leaning." I love her like a mother, sister, or friend, and she's whichever I need at any given moment.

Which is good now, since I'm leaving everypony else I've ever known.

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Welcome to Level 1!

New Perk: Small Frame -- +1 point to AGL, but receive +10% limb damage.

New Perk: Cherchez La Fillette -- +10% damage to the same sex and unique dialogue options with certain ponies.