The shield bash caught his opponent off guard, and he heard a weight hit the ground. He kicked with his boot and connected with something, eliciting a shout of pain. He roared and swung his hammer around one-handed overhead and struck the ground. He looked up. He was fighting a pony, another one of those bat-ponies like the one he saw at Hoofshire. There was another one in a heap spread across a seat, the armour on its chest deformed. Looks like he got a good hit in. There was glass on the floor, and he heard the rush of the wind through the breach. More crashes, screams of alarm over head, more intruders bursting into the carriages.