14th of June, 202.
Of F***IN' course. A unicorn thief showed up, ran into our gate, and was shot a few times by our 2 protectaponies. He ran out, trailed by several bighorners, 2 war dogs, and a horde of puppies. The thief was slowed by a female war dog, and proceeded to stab its lungs out and brutally kill it from many, many broken bones, blood loss, and suffocation. We tried to save it, but it died in our hooves trying to get it to the hospital.
Here is some of the combat. Very brutal.
The thief ran off, escaping. I'm ordering the caravan gate closed and guards posted near the smaller, trapped gate.
A large as hell radscorpion is wandering around near the river, which is dangerous to anypony getting a drink. I don't want to order it killed for fear of injury to our military, but I can't just let it sting a unarmored pony.
Sidenote- Still looking for another pony to replace me in the future.
25th of June, 202.
I ordered everyone inside for a moment to explain that I am looking for a new Overpony, which I now learned didn't help much. A pony named Tailed Planterlisten, a trapper extraordinaire, tried usurping me immediately by declaring herself Overmare, and demanding better quarters, a office, a exquisite dining room and even going to the point of demanding the strongest and most enduring stallions to be her personal entourage. I rectified this situation by using 'physical diplomacy' and striking her (Which I would never do to a SANE mare) on the front of her head, knocking her to the ground (Most likely busting her nose) and, I believe, efficiently showing her that I don't take traitorous ponies well. (Clarity later asked me why I didn't call her in to rectify Tail's outburst, to which I replied, "I didn't see that... the extent of your personal diplomacy was needed, we would need some industrial strength cleaner to get her off of the chair and tables she was standing on." As noted before, don't screw with Clarity or anyone she deems a friend. If you do, we'll be cleaning you up weeks afterwards.)
We had to build new gates, because the last migrant I ordered to arranged the ***n mechanisms where IT CLOSED THE WRONG BUCKING WAY. The lack of common sense in some ponies amazes me. I am ordering smoothing of a larger underground area to serve as dining room, as our current is EXTREMELY inadequate for our population of 50 ponies. The food procured from the prick-caravaneers will last us awhile, no one should go hungry, unless they hate cheese and vegetables. Radishes, anyone?
Sidenote- To lead this Stable, I have decided on a few necessary traits: Some linguistic ability, intellect, common sense, willpower, and most of all, courage and the ability to stay CALM. I lack in the latter sometimes, the incident today with Tails obviously highlighting that. I'm still getting the caked blood off of my hoof. I should have telekinetically done something, more efficient, less danger of serious injury, and best of all, less cleaning to be done. ((The chick ACTUALLY SOMEHOW got the title that I normally have, me being kicked from OverStallion and her getting it. Odd.)
July 2nd, 202.
My 25th birthday has arrived. The ponies of the Stable (Well, most of them, Tail was still ****ed at me for breaking her nose.) wished me a happy birthday right as I awoke. After managing the Stable for so long, many days just fade into another. I didn't even know it was my OWN birthday until my dear Dignity kissed me good morning. (She says my present will come tonight- maybe I shouldn't get too involved in work today.)
During the day I still worked, but was often urged out of it by talking to friends like Clarity or Water, or my friend Bright VelvetReign, a recent father here in BastionRises and a skilled stoneworker. I admit, I DID get a little drunk on some wine we
pilfered stole acquired from the wastelander ***hole of a merchant. A very hard walk to my bed later, about sunset, I passed out in the chair in my room that served as my thinking chair and I used while writing on my desk.
I'm not leaving this next part in my journal. I was mentally (Not actually) drunk when I wrote it, thats MUCH too personal to be put on archive.
(The rest of this page is ripped, most likely from embarrassment of what was ON said page.)
July 12th, 202.
OH **** ME IN THE *** WITH A CELESTIA-***NED SLEDGEHAMMER. My ***hole of a maternal grandfather is here, the 99 year old piece of **** who would like nothing more than to see me die at his hooves or those of a raider pony's. Why does he hate me? I have no ***king idea. He's an asshole though, ever since me and Dignity started just being FRIENDS, the prick. Maybe it's because 'I'm not good enough for her' or something to that extent. Her mother and father (And mine for that matter) had no problem with me courting her (Sort of backwards, in our Stable it was taught that a proper relationship was started by the mare, but I think mare's shouldn't be the ones to have to put their neck out, make decisions, not because I'm sexist, just because I don't like seeing anyone hurt from anything, whether it be a relationship or a bad decision.), and later marrying her in the Stable. We had no idea that in such a short time, 200 years after the war, our Stable would open, releasing us all to this ***n place. If I knew that, I most likely wouldn't have married her, for back in the Stable, I was training for a pseudo- militia (On the inside of the Stable, nonetheless, I figured against a civil war until that door slid open, and our regenerative food supply and water talisman BOTH died, who does that? F***ing Stable-Tec.) with my destruction magic, though I didn't get far.
The point of all this is, no one likes the old pony. Not even my dear Dignity, who loves just about anyone.
Well, anyways, things are going good here in BastionRises. No real security threats, and no new migrants, yet. I am helping smooth the downstairs-future-dining room just to help out, I have no other REAL job besides being OverStallion. I'm angering quite easily lately, by my standards anyways. I need to see someone about that.
Sidenote- That old prick won't quit nagging on me when I'm in public, and several times I almost telekinetically un-holstered my combat knife and show him what the loss of most your blood will do to you. Faggot.
21st of July, 202.
Well, still being bothered by that old Celestia-***ned old pony, but less so. I have a bit of good news, though. A young foal named Growth Valley pack brought me a folded piece of paper, apparently from a anonymous pony who wishes to later convene with me about leading the Stable. At least this pony has the decency to want to meet with me, instead of that ***ch Tail who tried to usurp me. She's still nursing that nose, by the way. Must be a bit stronger than I thought I was.
We are still doing swimmingly on edibles and drink, though some ponies are grumbling about letting corpses of animals rot whom we either had to kill or hunted for training because they were somewhat dangerous. I admit it IS wasteful for a pony who eats meat, but I still am adamantly against consuming of meat and fish.
That radiscorpion finally wandered off, away from our river. Now our ponies can bathe in it and such without having to check for a extremely deadly creature watching them. I need to dig a well, as I stated before, but I'm still not sure.
I've been told the slaver caravan will most likely come sometime next month, so I am assigning myself to the military to train in case we have to free some slaves. I'm thinking I'll train in some sort of melee weapon, as our guns have limited ammunition. I can also levitate a extra shield or two, blocking alot of enemy attacks. I hope we won't have to fight, and we most likely won't. But if these slavers are like the wastelanders, we easily might.
Sidenote- Ever since my birthday, me and my wife have had more personal time due to a more self-efficient Stable, which doesn't require anywhere near as much as the attention as I previously had to put into it. My son is doing swimmingly, and me and my wife are as happy as ever. Maybe even happier.
30th of July, 202.
A recent immigration wave has brought us to 63 ponies, it was smaller than it could have been because of those wastelander faggots, but still, plenty of ponies here. It had no real ponies of use, most being farmers or hunters of some sort. One pony proclaimed to be a legendary MILKER. Who the hell needs a legendary MILKER? That pony's going to be put into manual labor, they have no other skills. I need my masons to build more tables and chairs for the lower dining room in progress, and they aren't doing much. I've also been personally building a row of traps, to help discourage some of the ground-based creatures that enjoy screwing with ponies.
I'm starting to train, preferably with some of these saws and shields we have. I'll be quite a busy pony, juggling the leadership of the Stable, my wife and son, plus my enlistment into the militia.
9th of August, 202.
***k me. Too d**n busy to train with the militia, been working way too much. My wife tells me I need to slow down, but I NEED to find a replacement. The owner of that message hasn't revealed themselves, so I have to look for other options. I hate to say this, but Tail is the most qualified. Though she is a pompous prick, she has great linguistic ability and a pretty good intellect. I've finished that row of traps, and am working on more mechanisms to trade soon. We have finished smoothing the dining room, we just need more chairs and tables. We have also begun engraving the walls.
We have found 2 Ministry of Image crates, not really good for much but the posters. Some people seem to like them. We also opened a civilian crate, finding a pellet box (Heavy as hell, too.) that seemed to be full of the things. We'll leave it alone for now, we don't really need pellets.
I'm still not one-hundred-percent sure that the caravan coming soon is a slaver one, but if it is, and those ***king pricks try anything, I'll get Clarity (Who is now a Master Sawpony and Legendary Fighter) to slice them to bits, with backup from the gunners and her subordinate, Considerate (Who isn't far from Legendary). I hate slavers, always have. They're as bad as raiders, except at least raiders have the insane excuse. Celestia-d***ed slavers do it for the caps, and they don't care what happens to those they capture, most of 'em probably die horrible deaths at the hooves of whom ever they are sold to.
August 16th, 202.
That pellet box had a ***k-ton of pellets in it, more than we need, maybe about 300-400 of 'em. Not much use 'cept for trainin', but I've seen vultures and other creatures shot with 'em to death by a couple of the hunters who wouldn't listen to me about not hunting
noanymore, but I just took their rifles and pellets and threw 'em into the barracks.
We are awaiting the caravan, making things to sell. Maybe if they're friendly we can unload one of the useless as heck (To us at the time, anyways.) plasma casters. We won't rid ourselves of both, we have two. Maybe sometime in the future we'll have somepony who knows how to use the ***ned things.
Ever get tired of something? I am, and quite fast. Tail won't stop bothering me about my term ending in two weeks, so I told her to **** off before I break something more important than her nose. If I don't get another Overpony soon, she'll be able to usurp me, unless I think fast. I can try stalling, maybe something about the next migrant wave containing a proper leader. Not sure at all though, so that anonymous pony better well hurry the ***k up, or we're royally screwed.
Sidenote- My Stable accent seems to be changing a bit when I speak. I also have become more easily angered and have a larger vocabulary of 'swear' words, this isn't anything to be proud of, but it's just something that happens when subjected to it daily.
August 21st, 202.
Found some poor pony's body parts in one of my weapon traps, but from the thrown together barding it looked to be raider. Seemed enough body parts for 2 ponies, so maybe we stopped a minor attack on the Stable with our traps. Only time will tell.
We've been busy with everyday things here in the Stable, it really feels like home. We're fine on provisions and such, I am working on more bedrooms for the ponies without a proper one.
We've only been using dolomite to craft things, it being the main rock we have, but out of the blue people refused to use it. I set up a stockpile of it where our old meeting hall was, so it will all be carried close by. Then they still refuse to use it, it being "A economic rock." I yell at them that I don't give a flying
fuck buck, and order them to. My yelling got them to listen, for once.
Sidenote- Not caring much about cussing anymore, no real reason to. I've seen people blown to bloody bits, and eviscerated to a near-liquid state, so who the hell cares if I scream obscenities when I'm mad?
August 30th, 202.
No sign of that caravan, so we're closing the gate. Seems that the dang thing malfunctioned and won't close. Need to deconstruct all the levers and crap soon.
Anyways, today Tail, the stupid BITCH, was fixing to declare herself Overpony because of the fact that I hadn't chosen one yet, but I was able to convince everypony that I was choosing in the next week. Not much time, but I hope it'll be enough to keep that stupid fuck from getting the position, and if it isn't, maybe I'll go grab a pistol and shoot the damn mare. I might be executed or severely punished, but that 90 year old mare ain't getting my job, she'll do something stupid. Not too long ago I sent a reply to that letter, just sending a messenger out in the wasteland, but he said there was a group of ponies he gave it to, after about 4 days. Maybe they'll pass it on to the pony who sent ME that message months ago. I hope.
Sidenote- Barely kept myself from killing a stallion, he was stealing from our supplies and was going to leave. All I managed to do was break a few ribs before Clarity and Considerate grabbed me. I'm really not qualified for this shit anymore, I'm getting mad much too easy, and that's never a good leadership trait. But seeing that stallion crumpled, on a hard floor, reminded me of when- I ain't writing that shit. No pony's gotta know. Check that, nopony NEEDS to know... (The page is stained with round droplet areas, probably tears. It is also crumpled from beginning to end, from being clenched so tightly.)
