Raddhar: переводы

→The thought of escape and a life outside slavery does not occur to a mind who has only ever known the life of the servant to some overbearing master's wishes. I have no free will, no courage to make my own choices and few dreams of anything more than perhaps a painless death at the end of it all.

→Truly, I wish I could say that this foalhood had taught me to be an independent, brave and determined pony like the ones in the legends. But the truth is...I'm not. Being born a slave has one other problem, as I mentioned before. You do not know choice. You don't know how to think for yourself unless pushed to the absolute boundaries of physical needs like food or water. If a slaver asks you to jump...you ask into which radioactive crater.

→I was sold for a measly hundred caps to a rock farmer off the eastern edge of Whitetail Woods. Torn from the hold of my mother, I was immediately dragged into service upon the blank and lifeless duty of shifting rocks in some inane quest for gemstones. With a change in scenery came a change in hardship. While hauling carts and performing physical labour had broken me physically in the past and hurt my body's development, I now was a lone runt in a slave labour farm full of other delinquents just waiting for a new body at the bottom of the pecking order. They hurt me, bullied me and stole my food and minuscule amounts of possessions. I had to learn to sneak out and try to steal some back at nights...and I wasn't always successful. These days I still bear the scars of the lash upon my back.

→I grew up a runt. The smallest of the bunch born to a weary mother sick with taint poisoning in a camp near Shattered Hoof to an unknown father. Suffice to say, given the way mares were treated in the slave camps, my father was likely one of the harsh figures giving us instructions and beating the ones who fell behind their quota. At first it was cart hauling, but as the years passed and it became clear I wasn't going to get any bigger or stronger to meet my master's expectations, I was instead sold off. My mother had begged and pleaded with them. She had offered anything, including herself, to make them reconsider and keep me there with her. Although the memory is now far gone, I still remember the slavers laughing her off. They told her that they could already have anything they wanted from her. We were slaves. We had no bargaining chips.

→But let's just say that isn't possible for me and leave it at that for now. Instead, let me tell you about how I came to be where I am now.

→The truth is that it more often stunts your growth, resulting in a sub-generation of physically small and weak ponies with no education and little true aspiration. How can a pony who has never known the freedom of the outside world ever know what to want from it? Sure, there might be some strong earth pony, powerful unicorn or rare and agile pegasus some place that once did as the stories say....

→I suppose I should explain something about the nature of being born into slavery, for it is somewhat different from the more common way of simply being captured and forced into labour. You never even know the concept of choice. Your life is little but instruction following order following demand. Many would like to believe the myth of growing up in a harsh environment to become a big and tough pony with the willpower to someday overthrow his masters. But unfortunately, that was never going to be possible.