Scars - By: Aethist Brony
The fog of war blistered my already worn scales under my helmet, making my current predicament all the more bitter. The dense, unsettling fog could stir fear in the most bold of men. The waves of the coast thundered on, the sand starting to give way to the maelstrom to the east. My helmet’s metal was highly decorated with mainly black and red, the standard shade for all of the platoon. It’s rather over-glorified feather still emitting a quite bright and cheerful color of bright-rose. It was already hot from the unusual weather in the east, it’s dull iron trapping the warm rays of the golden sun. My boots had been quite decorated from the most best painters in the Equestrian Army, it’s white-lavender setting making it look like a beautiful lily. It’s chain-mail linking in between my actual boot and shin-guard was starting to grow weak, rusted from all the spare blood that was being handed around. It’s paint had become worn down from excessive use, it’s iron sheet starting to rust from all the blood that I had come across in my ventures. I looked down onto my tabard, ripped apart rigorously from constant fighting and straw arrows that had wandered to my physical being’s position. The tabard itself had the usual Equestrian national colors, of a lovely shade of white-lavender, with a small, golden sun smack-dab in the middle of it. My dull short-sword gleamed in the sun’s basking light, making it seem almost golden. It’s whole process of crafting was rather over glorified, making it seem like it took forever in the manuals. It’s grip was the usual bright-albino color, of which was then accompanied by a deep shade of lavender painted onto the guard. It’s metal edge of Iron, I well knew, it could draw blood efficiently and cleanly from any being who would be unlucky enough to be in it’s way. I looked up, still wondering how long it would take before somepony would find me. It was hopeless in this environment, the fog of war casting a deathly aura onto those who had been unlucky enough to be stationed in this hay-hole of a place. The dark storm-clouds from the west lingered in the sky, acting as a menace to those who could fly their way up to safety. I could hear claps of thunder sounding off from the clouds, their bright, significant, streaks of white destroying anything that it came into touch of. I rubbed my chain-mail gauntlets against my worn, glamorous tower shield. The shield had been blood-stained ever since I got my first souvenir from this wretched place. The dirt underneath my feet wasn’t the most kind to those unlucky enough to smear their face all over it. The dirt was barely even distinguishable from the red river that was the blood of the unlucky Gryphons and Dragons who had been mortally wounded. Slowly, I advanced upward in a fatigued fashion, my being shaking as a whole from the insanity of battle. The adrenaline from the recent skirmish was still jolting in my veins, making my ears pound. Quickly, I picked up my gleaming short-sword and started to walk towards the storm-clouds, my boots making a metallic, almost lifeless sound. As I walked, I continued to reflect on everything about me. It didn’t take very long, for the screams and hollering of the warden-ponies started to repeat themselves in my brain, the audio burnt into the side of my head.
Hey! Mutt! Don’t stop working until you hear the damned bell sound off! You! 9016! Stop staring at me and continue working, mutt!
I slowly shuddered from the ideal of having another one of those flashbacks. I still had nightmares about the wardens, and their relentless and merciless shouting and whipping. I slowly continued onward, pushing the haunting memories into the storage area of my brain. I didn’t need to think twice about my direction, because those storm-clouds would provide me one thing. Water.
Slowly, my hand started to graze at my fresh wound, the sting of the dust covering it making it nearly unbearable. The red liquid had been drawn not-too long ago, for I had been hit rather effortlessly by a passing gryphon, whom brandished his broadsword into my gut as he was already dealing with another dragon. The gleam of his weapon seemed only like a blur of dull gray, giving me no time to think or react to this. I suddenly snapped myself out of my trance, the past of the skirmish already starting to repeat itself in a hellish cycle. My blood continued to ooze out slowly, and once again I had to stop my hand from naturally rubbing against it to try and ‘’comfort’’ it. My blood wasn’t that of a pony or gryphon, but instead was slow moving and thick, much like the amber sap of an orchard tree. I continued on, trying my best to valiantly ignore the wound. Suddenly, my foot stumbled across the corpse of a dead dragon, and I tripped over clumsily, the dirt kicked up from the fall blinding my now tear-filled eyes. Quickly getting to my worn feet, I looked around in vain, trying to find anything to grab onto for support, my hands naturally stuck out. I suddenly pressed against something soft, and living. Oh, Celestia no. I looked up with terror-filled agony, already knowing what to expect. The metal gleam of it’s dull, iron helmet blinded my already agonized eyes. The metal was that of a Cyan paint. Obviously, these gryphons took pride into their natural ability to fly, nevertheless their subspecies. The next thing I could notice about this particular individual was that it was holding a crossbow, an obvious technological advancement made rather recently in terms of warfare. I tryed to back myself away from the creature, but ended up falling onto the same, rotten corpse that had made me trip before. I had no time to react, because before I could stumble myself upward to defend myself, the gryphon pulled the trigger in shock, and my world turned into a depressing collage of black and gray shades.
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I suddenly awoke to the magnificent and booming sound of thunder clapping overhead. The first thing I was able to make sense of was that there was currently and unbearable mass of pain in my torso, and looking down I realized in terror that a grandly decorated arrow was stuck straight into my chest, almost making my body look like it had fell onto a stick. The arrow was a simple shade of dark-brown, the feather at the end of it was probably plucked from a peacock, as the feather’s tone of Cyan was almost as light as the sky itself. That didn’t stop me from turning my glare over to where the arrow tip stuck right into my scales, the plate-mail armour I was wearing now more gore-red instead of it’s usual, gleaming clear metallic colour. The tabard didn’t even look white OR lavender at all, but instead a deep shade of gore-red, the sappy blood of my being oozing down gently. The next thing I was to observe was that I was alive. Very alive. In fact, the amount of adrenaline pumping in my veins right now probably would be toxic to any other pony. It seems as though my body had naturally detected a breach in my scales, because It suddenly occurred to me that I was not bleeding from the direct wound in my chest. Still, this didn’t comfort me at all. The pain in my chest felt like I was going to be snapped into two pieces like a twig. Looking up, I realized that my captor was sitting on a rock, opening it’s beak to catch some of the rain that had started down-pouring. I suddenly realized that my helmet had drowned out the sound of the rain. Heh, the sound of water being drowned down, think of that.
I was about to open my double-visored sallet when the gryphon spoke. I immediately was able to make two quick, rather rudimentary observations of it. One, the ‘’it’’ was actually femine.
Two, she obviously hated this war more than I did, mainly because the second she spoke out I was able to make out some very fine-tuned, but still great, anger in her voice. ‘’You probably shouldn’t do that, y’know.’’ The first, most immediate thing I had been able to observe of her voice was that she was able to speak in Common Equestrian.She declared this statement rather openly to me. Her voice had a somewhat soothing feel to it, and her entire aura was a bit more relaxing than most other gryphons, most of which had an aura that clearly was defined as the; ‘’I’m going to kill you, and then eat your eyeballs for breakfast’’ aura. I was still taken a back from her soothing voice, and soon she continued speaking in a rather angelic, choir-like voice; ‘’Anyways, you’re alive. Thank the Almightys.’’ I was now fully aware that this mysterious femine was friendly in such a manner to where I was able to converse with her. ‘’I-’’ I suddenly felt a deep pain in my throat, and it felt as though somepony had taken a dagger, and just jabbed it right into my throat. I let out a excruciating yelp of pain, my body cringing from the pain the arrow had caused. ‘’Oh, horse-apples. I forgot that that thing was a tranquilizer arrow. To bad the crossbow was a bit to powerful.... At close range....’’ Her voice sounded sincerely apologetic, and her whole being was just that of an otherworldly angel. She suddenly pounced on me, causing me to flinch defensively. ‘’Don’t worry, flak head, just trying to... pull... this thing.... outta... Ya!’’ I suddenly felt a large grip of pain grab onto me, choking me by the throat with such intensity that my stomach’s contents were soon emptied onto the ground. As for the gryphon, she had yelped out with surprise and shock when I puked, also grunting loudly whenever she pulled out the arrow. The first, most immediate thing I noticed about my physical state of being, was that the burning pain in my torso was almost immediately gone. I was also bleeding, my blood still oozing out gently from the recently picked wound, however it wasn’t painful at all. I slowly stood up, but soon stumbled downward, the gryphon dashing recklessly to my aide. Her rush was shadowed over by a mix of a Cyan-Brown blur. Suddenly, I was looking into the rather intelligent, bold, ember eyes of the gryphon, who was talking very calmly and soothingly, but also very fast. ‘’Are you okay? You didn’t seem like you could take that fall, so I helped you out.’’ I suddenly realized there was the faint drawing of a Red-Cross on the forehead of her brilliant Cyan helmet. ‘’You’re a medic, aren’t you?’’ I suddenly realized that this was the first time I had ever vocalized to another living being. I never really had been observant of my voice until now. I, being the selfless, horribly unbiased dragon I know, had only one comment on it. Sounds like someone just scratched a damn rock on a chalkboard, and recorded it, than replayed it at tenfold the sound. Now, my voice wasn’t that messed up, but it still sounded loose and gravelly. My tone was that of innocent curiosity, my question lingering in the air dryly for a moment. Finally, the gryphon spoke aloud, her voice switched to a brighter, more rhetorical tone. ‘’Yea, captain Oblivious-To-Surroundings.’’ I was suddenly taken aback by this, and I somewhat let out a chuckle. It was small, and pitiful, but still a break from the such desperate scene that Celestia had provided us with. My chuckle was cut short by a whelp of extreme pain, my body obviously deciding that talking or chuckling was not going to be permitted as long as I was bleeding my skin-color out. Suddenly, the gryphon rushed over to my aide, pulling out some white-cloth bandages.
She placed the brilliant-white bandages near her being, and soon maneuvered her claw over to her small, brown sack, which I hadn’t been able to see because my vision was already horribly blurred, and also that her body mass was brown, like most all gryphons. She suddenly had pulled out a small, dark-brown bottle, with 3 X’s on the front, leather label. I immediately recognized the substance as medical alcohol. She slowly chuckled, and pulled the cap off of the top of it, starting to pour it down onto my wound. ‘’Well, atleast you’re not dead, right?..’’ Before I could sarcastically remark to this comment, I suddenly felt the blinding pain of the alcohol’s sting, curling my hands up into fists, crying out in sheer exasperation and pain. I had expected the rain to loosen up my pain, but almost as if on-cue, nature decided to give me a punch to the gut, and stop raining. Before I could make any more sense of my situation, I suddenly blacked out, seeing the gryphon take the bandages and start to gradually roll them out.....
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Army Orphanage for Talented Dragons, 5 years ago.
‘’Come on, hurry up! It’s not like you can’t put some work into those pitiful scales, MOVE!’’
I continued on hammering down rigorously, the heat from the sweatshop causing me to wheeze heavily. I had only begun working 15 minutes ago, but by Celestia, the warden was pissed off, alright. Slowly, I continued to work, but at an extremely slow rate, constantly stopping to wipe the river of sweat that had formed at my forehead. My scales’ makeup did horribly in the dark, mainly because most of my body was covered in a brilliant, albino color. The bold, light color of sky-blue on my scales had been mostly blackened by the smoke in the workshop. Hopefully, the horn would sound off sooner or later so we could get a darn break, for once in our miserable lives. My hopes must have been heard by the ever-so gracious Celestia, as the horn blew for our 5-minute lunch break. Slowly rising up, I quickly took out a capped mug, popping the top off of it and started to drink rigorously from it. As if from out of the blue, I felt a stinging pain on my back scales, causing me to yelp in a high-pitched tone. I fell down to the sound of mocking laughter behind me, coming from a batch of young, possibly intoxicated ponies from the rich, snobbish academy across the street. I slowly looked at them, realizing in terror the mob of my harassers was more worse than any kind of monster I had seen in a nightmare. One of the offenders had a deep shade of gray for his coat colour, and a brilliant orange mane. He was obviously the leader of the group, and the most feared bully in all of our hellish orphanage. [I would go as far to say that I had feared him more than some of the wardens.] His name was really long and complicated, so somepony dubbed him ‘’Hammer’’. The name stuck, and he soon built up a reputation for being extremely cruel to all of the unlucky dragons that got in his way. The other 3 offenders I didn’t recognize, because he had so many moronic friends I couldn’t count. His brain, on the other hand, could not even manage the number 2. [Which seemed to puzzle him quite thoroughly.] He laughed his heartless, cold laugh. I imagined if Nightmare Moon had any sort of laugh, it wouldn’t be as terrifying as Hammer’s. He looked down onto me, starting to imitate a weak baby dragon, whom were known for gurgling in-between sentences. ‘’Aww, does the whittle baby dwagon need a band-aide for his boo-boo?’’
This obviously wildly amused his dim-witted friends, because they started howling like a coyote during midnight. [I always liked analogies.] I huffed out my usual reply to him, saying in my most bold [but fake] tone of voice; ‘’Leave me alone, please.’’ The next thing my brain was able to process through all my humiliation was that Hammer obviously whipped me once more, causing me to yell excruciatingly loudly from the sting of his whip. They had definitely been drinking something they weren’t supposed to. ‘’Oh, hey boys, the whittle dwagon need a bweak from playing?’’ Once again, he whipped me once more, very hard this time. Harder than on all the other dragons he bullied. I started yelping out frequently, as he continued to bash the whip into my head. Before I could stop myself, I had started to cry, big, juicy tears rolling down my rather shallow cheeks. Big mistake. Hammer was known far and wide for hitting all the dragons who cried even more harder. However, before I could stop my natural reflexes from taking over, and before his slow brain could comprehend what had happened, I burped up a small, pitiful flame in an effort to burn the whip. Not only did this plan fail miserably, but also caused him to be filled to the rim with seething rage. He angrily sputtered out; ‘’Oh! So the little dragon is all grown up now, huh? Well I guess that means we can go harsh on him, boys!’’ My pupils dilated from the most worst kind of terror; the kind that made you feel helpless and defenseless. I was whacked in the jaw by the big, blue one to my outermost right, stunning me from any thoughts of desperate escape. They converged slowly onto me, starting to cruelly trample me with their hooves. I kept on creating a river with my tears, pleading them in a desperate voice to stop. All of a sudden, they did stop. However it was only a short pause, for hammer had picked up a branding iron with a cross sign on it, still burning from it’s recent contact from the hot charcoal. Two of the other ponies grabbed onto my arms, letting my feet flail wildly. Hammer converged onto me, starting to say in an extremely terrorizing tone; ‘’You’re going to remember who’s got the whip around here, albino!’’ His friends laughed, starting to chant the words in rhythm as the branding iron converged onto my forehead. ‘’Albino! Albino! Albino!”......
Their laughter still haunts the most darkest of my dreams......
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Present Day
I suddenly awoke from my nightmare, screaming out in agonizing terror. The commotion seemed to make the gryphon that was next to me the whole time jump, for she unsheathed her dagger for a split-second, but soon holstered it when she realized it was just me. She spoke to me in a quavery, obviously haunted voice. ‘’That’s one hell of a nightmare, you got there, Albino.’’ I was suddenly filled with rage, but before I leaped over to leave a scar on her cheek, I stopped, realizing that the term ‘Albino’ was the only type of name I ever had. [Except for my egg number, 9016. Of course, you can tell which one I barely liked over the other.] I slumped down once more, feeling at my now bandaged and healed wound. It still throbbed intensely, but was not so painful anymore. I suddenly clawed desperately at my sallet, trying to get it off. Once I had succeeded, I started to feel at the red, indented scar on my head. I slowly looked down, my eyes starting to mist up abit. ‘’Don’t worry, kid. I’m here for ya.’’ She replied soothingly.
I slowly looked up, sniffling somewhat loudly and then asked her a simple question. ‘’What’s your name, anyway?’’ She slowly looked downward towards me, her facial features somewhat stunned. She blushed somewhat out of sheer nervousness, and replied to me in a hollow tone; ‘’My name’s Daisy.’’ I tilted my head curiously, starting to ask her more questions. ‘’Why are you so nervous?’’ She quickly responded to my inquiry, stating in a now more confident voice; ‘’Well, I was an orphan too... You talked in your sleep about some orphanage.’’ My pupils dilated, now knowing someone else had witnessed my abuse. She continued on talking, her voice now very friendly. ‘’Also, I was always the silent odd-job at the back of my classroom, so you could probably imagined no-pony wanted to be friends with me.’’ I started to open my mouth to comfort her about this, but I suddenly realized that the arrow wound in my chest was starting to make me feel sleep-deprived. My eyelids became excruciatingly heavy, and before I knew it, I was fast asleep, Daisy looking down into my eyes, smiling affectionately.
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I awoke in my platoon’s tent, looking about groggily, only one thought in my mind, repeating itself loudly. ‘’Where’s Daisy?’’ I looked up, and with a jolt realized that one of the pony-medics had been watching me thoroughly, inspecting my physical attributes while I was sleeping. She quickly told me everything that had happened while I was asleep. ‘’You were dropped off by something big, possibly a gryphon, at the front of the platoon’s gate. The scouts went looking for it, but they couldn't find the damned gryphon. But your still alive, thank Celestia.’’ And with a pause and a brief grin, she walked off, tending to the other unfortunate foot soldiers. I waited until she was completely gone until I started to bawl my eyes out quietly.
I was sad that Daisy was gone.
I was sad.
I was sad because she was my only friend.
And that I was her only friend.
~The End~
