That One Time When Stuff Diedby moocowChapters1 #spoopycave2 #coldforest3 #fukhashtags1 #spoopycaveOnce upon a time, in the magical land of HELL!!! “I don’t trust you.” The red stallion glared across the tunnel at the ominous silhouette of a diamond dog. The dog’s dark fur made him nearly invisible against the cave wall. “Good, you might live longer that way.” Replied the dog. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Asked the stallion with concern. Even under his cloth wrapped armor, a chill drove down his spine. He could have sworn the dog’s reflective irises looked hungry. “It means you’re smarter than most of your kind.” Explained the dog. “If I was a different dog I would have killed both of you.” “That’s reassuring.” Said the stallion sarcastically. He placed more wood on the small fire that sat between him and the diamond dog. The flames grew, and he was briefly able to make out the unsettling canid face. The dog chuckled and laid down on the stone floor. “Sleep pony. You’ll need your strength.” The stallion adjusted his position against the wall. “I’m good, thanks.” He looked down at the mare sleeping beside him. No way was he going to doze off and let this creep slit their throats. He’d probably eat them too. Steady breathing was the dog’s only response. The pony sighed. He had no idea of the time except that it was night, if the lack of light refracting from the cave entrance was anything to go by. Some time passed. With nothing else to do, the stallion began softly humming a tune. The stone tunnel created a slight echoing effect. The dog’s ears twitched. “Oh, were you asleep already?” asked the stallion. “Not yet.” Said the dog without opening his eyes. “I was wondering, what is this place? This cave is not a natural formation.” The stone tunnel was uniformly straight, angled downward in tiers, almost like giant elongated stairs. “Long time ago it was a den.” The stallion raised an eyebrow. “A den, as in a diamond dog den? This seems like awfully nice architecture compared to most dens I’ve seen.” “A very powerful alpha lived here.” “Which alpha?” “Don’t remember. Was before the griffons came.” “Oh, one of the pre-colonization clans?” Asked the stallion. The dog let out a snort of amusement. “That’s what you call it?” The pony was mildly confused. “Well, that’s kind of what happened.” “If you say so.” The dog shifted “No more talking now. “Your humming is nice though.” “Umm… thanks?” The pony was not expecting a complement. “Quietly.” “Oh.” The tunnel was once again silent, save for the occasional crackle of the fire or the distant echo of the wind. The stallion began humming again, albeit as quietly as possible. His eyes began to droop. He caught himself once or twice, but ultimately exhaustion won the battle. The humming stopped and was replaced by slow steady breathing. Thunder Stone awoke to a burnt out campfire. The only visible light was dim and grey. She raised her head from the stone floor. “Red.” She called quietly, as she prodded the not so vigilant sentry. The crimson pony inhaled slowly before letting out a long breath. He relaxed again, so thunder poked him once more. This time he jumped up with a start. “Wasn’t sleeping!” He declared. Thunder watched as Red looked around the gloomy tunnel. “Oh no.” “What?” Asked Thunder nervously. “He’s gone!” “Who?” She asked. Then it dawned on her. “Where’s the diamond dog?” “The bastard waited for me to fall asleep. We’re lucky to be alive.” Thunder fought down the urge to panic. They were here for a reason after all, and she wasn’t about to let some mangy dog get in the way. “It doesn’t matter. The mission goes on.” Red looked at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Ma’am, I appreciate your commitment but I would rather get out of here than go spelunking into some pitch black Tartarus pit, and potentially face some screwed up, predator diamond dog.” Thunder glared back. “Then I’ll be needing the lantern.” “What?” Demanded Red. “You don’t have to come, but I didn’t spend two weeks trekking here just to turn around because a diamond dog didn’t show up for breakfast.” “Seriously?” “Yes. Now give me that lantern or get in front of me and carry it, because we are not leaving until we finish this.” Ordered Thunder. “But that dog could be waiting to ambush us!” Pleaded the stallion. Thunder considered the very real possibility of being attacked by the dog, but her commitment to her mission overruled her fears. “Objection noted.” She said calmly. “But I’m not going back with empty saddlebags.” Red shook his head in rejection. He knew the futility of arguing with a female. “Alright, fine.” He groaned. “Can we at least eat first?” “Of course.” Thunder said with a grin. She reached into one of her saddlebags she left on the floor. The limited light made it hard to find the items, but she eventually retrieved two packages and a canteen. “How’s dry oatcakes and water sound?” She said cheerfully. Red groaned again. Breakfast was basic for the two travelers. The longevity of their trip reduced them to nonperishable foods. But they crunched and slurped with great vigor. Even bland foods can seem a delicacy to the very hungry. “I hate caves.” Said Red with a mouthful of oatcake. Very unprofessional for an Equestrian soldier, but he wasn't in the business of caring. “Ah, the truth comes out.” Cheered Thunder softly. “So what is it, the dark? Bats? Pointy-eared diamond dogs?” Red’s expression fell at the last item. “Don’t act like he doesn't scare you too. And no, it’s actually the tight spaces.” “Claustrophobia?” Asked Thunder. “No.” Said Red. “The Shirt family has never had a good history with enclosed spaces. Some kind of curse.” “You can’t be serious.” Thunder tried not to laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right there with you the whole time.” She tried to reassure him. “Thank you ma’am.” Red was not comforted, not one bit. “You can call me ma’am when were back in Canterlot. Let’s get moving.” The two ponies collected their gear and, one more reluctantly than the other, set off deeper into the den. The tunnel fell once again silent. No sound came from the remains of the fire, nor from the black shape that followed the two ponies. Red ensured the lantern was still secured to the front of his saddlebags. The light only pushed back a small area of darkness. The pair had since reached the end of the great stairs on which they had camped. The den opened up into an area of finely cut corridors and rooms, all built around what appeared to be a great hall. Red looked around wide-eyed at the remains of what appeared to be ornate decorations. The stallion gave a low whistle. “That diamond dog said this was a den, but this is beyond any den I’ve ever seen.” Said Red. He looked at Thunder. “Did you know about this ma’am?” “Yes.” Replied the mare. “Why didn’t you mention this?” Thunder stopped, pointed a hoof at a dust covered symbol on the wall. Red stepped closer. It was well worn but Red could just make out a silver circle with a crimson paw print in the center. A large black sword was engraved vertically through the center of the paw. Red gasped. “Is that…” “Deepstone.” Stated Thunder. Red wheeled around at the smaller mare. “You were hiding this from me?” “Yes.” Said thunder, unflinching. “My employers felt it best for me not to tell you until we were already here. Your commanding officer knows too.” Red was fuming. “Mission aborted. We’re leaving.” Thunder didn’t move. “I was told to tell you that you’ll receive a substantial pay raise upon completion of the mission.” “It’ll take more than a few bits to make me stay here. Place is bloody haunted.” Red spat against the wall and turned to leave. “Wait a second.” Called Thunder. “You can’t possibly believe in those ponytales.” “I’m sorry ma’am, but I’m afraid I do.” The mare stamped a hoof. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Red was still plodding away. “This mission concerns the fate of Equestria.” Red stopped walking. “How so?” Asked the disheartened soldier. Thunder paused. Should she tell him? She figured he would find out anyway. “There is rumored to be a large deposit of black steel in the den.” Red didn’t respond at first. “Well that’s different then, isn't it? Do the princesses know?” “No, just my department. They feel it best that the griffons don’t have it.” Red drew in a long breath. He nodded with understanding. “So how does this affect us?” “We’re scouting. If there’s nothing here, we can go home and never speak of this again.” “And if we do find something?” “Then our job gets more complicated.” Two shiny yellow eyes tracked the herbivores’ progress. Once the ponies had rounded another corner, the eyes and their owner padded after the fading torchlight. A pointy grin spread on his muzzle. He was at first concerned when the two had started bickering. The larger red one clearly feared the dark tunnels, albeit for the wrong reasons. The emerald green female was harder to read. She was obviously valuable to the red male, but not in the way one values a mate. The male acted like a soldier, if perhaps a mediocre one, so perhaps the female outranked him. The male clearly respected her, but not like an officer. The diamond dog paused at the corner to let the ponies gain some distance. If the female wasn't an officer then why was the red one being led by her? Maybe the female was wealthy and had hired the large male for protection. But why was she wandering an abandoned den? It couldn't have been greed that drove her; there were no riches to be had in the place. She did mention black-steel however. An odd thing for ponies to search for. The horned ones hated it. Maybe the two no-horns wanted to kill a magic user. That wouldn't make sense though. The overly peaceful ponies abhorred killing. Ultimately it was of little consequence to the dog. His prize was calling to him. Once the two had made it some way down the corridor, the diamond dog moved from his spot. He was careful to lift his claws as any sound could give him away. Darkened archways appeared on either side of the tunnel. The dog’s sensitive vision used what little light the ponies’ torch made to see into the rooms. He saw the remains of sleeping areas in one. In another, he could see an immense kitchen. Diamond dogs eat more than minerals, contrary to popular belief. A larger gap appeared on his left. He shied away when he realized what it lead to. His hackles rose, and he refused to give even a passing glimpse at what lurked inside. Instead, he quickened his pace to get passed the dark maw. He just had to focus on the ponies and he’d be fine. ‘Oh.’ He froze. The ponies had stopped only meters in front of him. If they turned around, there would be nowhere for him to go, except into the room he had desperately tried to avoid. The dog began to creep backwards. He just had to get to any other room and he could hide. The ponies were talking. Maybe it was enough for him to risk moving a little faster. *Tick* A claw grazed the smooth stone floor. The male’s ears twitched. “What was that?” The diamond dog shut his eyes. His coat blended enough to buy him a few milliseconds but his reflective eyes would give him away instantly. There was no choice. He lunged through the arch directly to his left and quickly backed himself into the corner beside the entrance. “What was what?” Asked the female. “Thought I saw something go into that room.” The dog heard the ponies’ slowly approaching, but he refused to open his eyes. The hoof steps stopped in the middle of the archway. “Anything?” “There’s some kind of mound in the center of the room.” Replied the male. “Wait, are those bones?” The dog tried pressed further into the corner, unsuccessfully attempting to escape the ponies and the room’s contents. “There must be dozens. What happened?” The mare whispered in surprise. “Not sure. Do you see how they’re all blackened?” “They were burned? Was it some kind of mass funeral?” “I don’t think so. Look at that one.” There was a silence. “They burned the young.” The mare declared with disbelief. “So was it worth coming to here?” Asked Red sarcastically. The female took a deep breath. “Let’s finish this and get out.” The hoof steps faded down the tunnel. The diamond dog was left alone in the stone room. He didn’t move until he was sure the ponies were far enough. Very hesitantly his eyes opened. They were staring at him. All of them. The dog fled the room with his tail tucked. He collapsed in the tunnel. Terror had pushed the air out of his lungs and he drew in ragged breaths. For several moments, he stayed there, with tears running down his muzzle. He wordlessly prayed that he was anywhere else. He’d even take a griffon mine over this tomb. His sensitive hearing could still make out the ponies’ voices. “I don’t like this.” The male. “Look at these claw marks. No diamond dog has claws that big.” There was a faint sniffing sound. “And it stinks like something died in there.” “And that’s where we need to go.” The dog inhaled sharply. The ponies weren’t the only ones with a mission to accomplish. He rose up on all fours. They were close now. The two ponies hesitantly descended a narrow staircase. This lower pathway spawned feelings of unease in both of them. The stone walls were scored with massive gashes as if some great beast had clawed its way down the tunnel. The air was also thick with the pungency of rotting organs. Thunder looked closely at one of the marks. Whatever made the incision had dug nearly two centimeters into the solid rock. “What could have done this?” She whispered. “Nothing good.” Replied Red quietly. The torchlight barely revealed dark stains on the stone stairs. Red eyed the dried splotches with sudden dread. He met Thunder’s nervous gaze. She had seen them too. “I really think we should turn back ma’am.” Murmured Red. Thunder considered the option for a moment. “No. If my information is correct, then this leads to where the black steel is stored.” “I can somewhat grasp the importance of the mission, ma’am, but I feel that if we go down there we’ll get mauled by… something.” “We have to at least check it out.” Pleaded Thunder. Red looked at the mare with a serious expression. “Fine, but you keep quiet, stay behind me, and do exactly as I say.” He made sure that the short spear secured on his pack was readily accessible. The mare nodded in understanding. “Thank you Red.” Several moments later, the ponies reached the bottom of the staircase. They stood in a space to wide for the lantern light to fill. The stench of rot was now stronger. “Which way?” Mumbled Red in a barely audible whisper. Thunder, as silently as she could, pulled a sketched map from her saddlebags. She studied it briefly before pointing with a hoof towards their destination. After she returned the map, the two softly plodded in the direction Thunder had indicated. They had to skirt around several workbenches and piles of scrap metal that cluttered the floor. While Red had scanned for danger, he failed to notice a small wooden bucket directly in his path. He kicked it with a smack. They both froze. The bucket rolled away, into the decayed leg of a workbench. The legs that supported the stone table were rotted to the point of near collapse. Contact with the bucket was all it needed to give way. The stone bench fell with a boom. This table, obviously a table for constructing more buckets, released its contents onto the floor. The plethora of wooden buckets rattled off into the darkness. When the noise died away, the ponies released the breaths they were clenching, only to hear the crash of a bucket knocking over a pile of scrap metal. This was followed by the sound of a bucket breaking a pane of glass, which was followed by the splash of a bucket falling into a pool of water, which was followed by the boom of a bucket knocking over another workbench, which was followed by the unknown sound of a bucket breaking a bucket, which was followed by the crunch of a bucket being run over by a semi, which was followed by the scream of a terrified bucket falling down a well, which was followed by the explosion of a jihadist bucket. And then there was silence. They waited. The buckets had finally stopped. Thunder sighed. “And you said I had to be quiet.” The ponies moved on with the hope that they were the only ones who had heard the noise. They soon reached the edge of the room. The torch cast it’s glow on a larger version of the Deepstone insignia. “I don’t understand.” Thunder retrieved her map. “There’s supposed to be a room here.” She glared angrily at the symbol on the wall. “What if it’s a false wall?” Suggested Red. Thunder looked at him dumbfounded. “That’s silly. You honestly think that diamond dogs could make a false wall?” She knocked on the wall with a hoof. “Ma’am, it was just a suggestion.” She began walking along the wall. “Maybe the map was off a bit.” Red followed behind. The smell was growing again, stronger this time. They soon found the source. Thunder gasped. Splayed on the floor in front of them were the deteriorating remains of a deer, more specifically the ass end. Red stepped closer while Thunder just stared wide eyed. “Torn right in half…” Red mused. He looked at Thunder. “Only a few subterranean creatures can do that.” “C-Cave bear.” Stammered the mare. “I don’t know.” Said Red doubtfully. “It’d have to be an awfully big cave bear.” Hot reeking air wafted from behind the stallion. His eyes pin-pricked as he realized his predicament. “Of course.” For a split second, Red saw a dark shape enter his vision. Next thing he knew, he was moving very quickly, too quickly in fact. He braced himself for the inevitable impact with the floor or the wall, whichever came first, possibly both at the same time. It turns out he hit neither of these things. His fall was cushioned by a convenient pile of wooden buckets. Many buckets gave their lives to protect the armored stallion. Lest we forget. Red struggled to free himself from the tangle of splinters and buckets. When he righted himself, he was amazed to find that his lantern had come with him, intact too. He then noticed that he could not see Thunder or the cave bear. A loud female shriek came from across the room, so did the sounds of some great thing moving. The stallion had to act fast, or the mare would be no better off than the deer carcass. He screamed into the darkness. “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH!” Two red irises turned to face the light. An earthshaking roar assaulted Red’s ears. The sound was amplified by the natural acoustics of the room, and caused the stallion to wince. Then it charged, crashing through the room’s contents as if they were nonexistent. The two-thousand pound animal was in full sprint. The stallion readied his weapon, not that he expected to do much damage. “Stupid family curse.” He muttered in defeat. At least the bear was distracted from Thunder. Maybe she would get away. Red’s whole body shook from the sheer mass of the approaching beast. The thing became visible in the lantern light. Its head was bigger than the pony’s whole torso. Immense jaws of yellow teeth bore down on the stallion. He reared and used both forelegs to thrust the spear. The small steel tip found purchase in the back of the giant reeking maw. For a blink of time, Red rejoiced in his small victory. Then the mouth snapped shut. ‘Stupid ponies.’ They had seen the blood and claw marks. Still they had gone on to their doom. And they did perfectly. The bear would be too distracted by the ponies to notice him until it was too late. The den's forge had been dominated by that beast of a cave bear for months. No matter how quiet he was, or how much he dampened his scent with mud, the bear always detected him. This was his first real opportunity to get past. He watched from the entrance of the dome shaped room. The ponies couldn’t see it with their weak eyes, but the diamond dog could just make out the breathing mountain that rested in the center. He began edging around the perimeter, keeping the ponies between him and the bear. Halfway across, the ponies had knocked over some buckets. In the resulting ruckus, the dog saw the bears ears twitch. Only after the ponies moved on, did the small hill move. It didn’t look at the ponies. Instead locked eyes with the barely visible diamond dog before quietly lumbering after the two equines. A shiver passed through the dog, as he understood the bear’s message: ‘M8, I’ll fuck you.’ Seizing his shrinking time, the dog darted for his objective as fast as his paws could push him. Several moments later, he entered a small corridor. The ambient light from the torch could not reach this smaller passage, so the dog felt his way along. Feeling a gap in the wall, he entered into another smaller room. It was in there. He could feel its call. Soon it would be his again. He felt past empty weapon racks, occasionally coming across a rotting spear or shield. A scream from the female quickened his pace. ‘Where is it?’ “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH!” The male shouted. Was the idiot actually challenging the thing? Apparently he was, as the bear answered with a roar that made the dog double over and grab his ears. He recovered and frantically felt around the floor. He froze when his paw brushed against something. He grabbed the oblong object. The shape was correct, but he couldn’t be sure. He stood up and swung the thing with both paws. The unmistakable balance of a tool crafted by a master. A comforting warmth welled up in the dog. It was his again. He slung the tool across his back. When he returned to the forge room, the lantern had gone out, and the room was encased in sheer black. Fortunately the bear was telegraphing her location via cries of frustration and pain. Hearing that it was preoccupied, the diamond dog padded out into the forge. He had to move slowly to avoid bumping into anything. The bear continued to grunt and snarl. Had the ponies managed to hurt it? The dog’s thoughts were interrupted when he nearly stumbled over a pile on the floor. The mound was breathing. He sniffed. It was the female. She smelled of blood. He prodded the mare with a paw. Unconscious. He raised his head to listen. The bear was now making coughing noises. The dog returned his attention to the pony. There was no time for this. The ponies had served their purpose. She would only weigh him down. His hackles began to erect. He could feel them watching him again. Boring holes into his very being with their empty eyes. Closing in with their bony claws. ‘Leave her.’ ‘No.’ They tried to stop him, but he barged through. The dog felt their frigid paws desperately groping him and shook them off. Then he ran. He was nearly at the exit, but the buckets came. They were always subtle, but deadly nonetheless. They appeared in the form of a small stack. A stack that was abruptly toppled as the galloping diamond dog plowed through them. The buckets made a great clatter as they fell. For a second, all was still. Across the room, their came one final coughing sound before some small metal object tumbled to the floor with a clang. Then a sniff. Not a teensy little dainty sniff, but the great whooshing of air entering a massive hypersensitive orifice. The dog’s eyes went wide. At first he thought he felt an earthquake, but the rumble materialized into the growl of an oversized animal. In a final act of evil, one last precariously positioned bucket fell to the ground. The bear roared as it locked onto the sound, aided by the stench of pony and dog. The dog made a beeline for the exit. The thundering bearpocalypse was gaining quickly. One misstep and he would be trampled. The bear roared again. The dog wanted to cover his ears in pain, but couldn’t. He could feel the rancid heat of the bear’s breath blowing moisture into his coat. Then he was in the tunnel. His paws caught on the stairs, dropping him and his passenger onto the steps. The dog’s ears popped as the bear rammed into the wall and plugged the tunnel entrance. He sat in the darkness, panting heavily. He’d actually done it. He had what he came for, and had managed to save one of the ponies. Shame about the other one, he had such nice humming. The bear noisily recoiled from the door. The dog’s mood instantly fell. For a moment, the bear seemed to have given up. The dog’s ears popped again as the hole was filled. The tunnel was gifted with the decadent aroma of the bear’s breath. (I lied. It smelled worse than shit.) Scraping was heard as a clawed paw was forced into the stairway. The dog grabbed the pony and dragged her up the steps. He could hear the grind of claws on stone. The bear had somehow stuffed itself into the stairway. It pulled closer, as the diamond dog retreated. Then the diamond dog kicked the bear in the eyeball, because swag, and also plot progression. He hefted the dank memes pony onto his back and ran out of the cave all like WEHEEEEEEHEHHEHEHEEEEE! But he didn’t look in the spooky room because 2spoopy4doge. 2 #coldforestA wibbly wobbly wagon wibble wobbled super hard under the shade of pine trees. Its cargo made pretty little clinking sounds. One pony pulled the cart while another walked behind. It was cold. “Brass, it’s cold.” Whined the unburdened one. “Steel.” Said brass calmly. “Yes?” “You just told me that, FIVE BUCKING MINUTES AGO!” “Geeeeeeeze. You don’t have to yell. I’m just saying, it’s cold.” “Do you even understand how far north we are?” “Well, yeah. But it’s still cold.” “How about you try pulling for a while, huh? That’ll warm you right up.” “But I don’t like pulling.” Brass groaned audibly. “I swear, if I wasn’t related to you…” The tarp covering the cargo shifted, revealing a less than sober mare. “Heeeeeyyyy guuuuyysss.” Murmured the pony. Brass looked back in shock. “What in Tartarus are you doing in there? I thought we left you back in… Oh no. You got into the juice didn’t you?” “Juice?” Puzzled the mare. “Naaaahhh brah, just took a swig of some of this stuff you got back here.” The stallion clenched his eyes shut in disbelief. “Why is this happening to me?” “Never liked juice.” Continued the mare obliviously. “Apple juice, orange juice, cranberry juice…” “I’m still cold” Complained Steel. “JUST SHUT UP!” Screamed Brass. “Steel, if I hear one more complaint, I’m going to seriously harm you. And you,” he gestured at the inebriated mare “I don’t even know your name. Get out from there.” “Kay.” The mare stood up and promptly fell down, smashing her head on the wooden rail. “On second thought,” Brass replaced the tarp “just stay put.” The wagon resumed its journey, despite the driver’s temptation to stop believing. “Hey, bro?” Called Steel. “What?” “I love you.” “Go plow yourself.” Grumbled Steel. It was nearly midday and Brass had no intention of staying a night in the forest. If hypothermia didn’t kill him, the starving predators would. Not to mention his shipment of narcotics wouldn’t reach his boss on time. Maybe if he killed Steel it would slow down the carnivores long enough for him to get away. But then he’d still have to deal with his boss. Being eaten alive sounded like a better idea. “Hey, Brass?” called Steel. “SWEET CELESTIA, WHAT?” “There’s a diamond dog over there.” Brass was so caught up in contemplating his death, he failed to notice the large black diamond dog at the edge of the path. Being the calm and collected individual that he was, Brass let out a high pitched scream and darted behind the opposite side of the cart. He peeked over the side cautiously. “What do you want?” Called Brass. “You’re going across the border?” Asked the dog. “What’s it to you?” Replied Brass from his hiding place of power and masculinity. “This female is hurt. She needs pony doctors.” Brass noticed the emerald green mare slung across the dog’s back. “He’s got a pony, Brass.” Declared Sir Obvious the Third. “I can see that.” Spat Brass at Steel. “You, dog, put her on the cart.” The diamond dog padded over. He leaned to one side, and the mare slid onto the end of the wagon. Brass eyed the now much closer diamond dog. It had a large sack tied to its back, along with a sizable crossbow, and a long object wrapped in cloth. He gestured at the dog to back off and moved to inspect the mare. “What did you do to her?” Asked Brass, in awe. The mare’s shoulder was laid open from one long gash, and blood seeped out from the partially dried wound. A large cut on her head was also concerning. Brass climbed onto the wagon and retrieved a glass bottle from under the tarp. “This should help,” He poured a small amount of clear liquid onto the mare’s shoulder. “Probably.” “Will she survive?” Asked the dog. “No clue.” Concluded Brass. “We’ll get her back to Morrowwood.” He pushed the mare under the spartan cover offered by the tarp. “Should be there before dusk. Come on Steel.” “They can repair weapons there?” Inquired the dog. “There’s probably a craftspony or something. Why?” “I’m coming.” The pony stamped a hoof. “Nuh uh. Not happening.” Brass was insistent. “There’s no way, especially in griffon territory, I am going to get caught traveling with some escaped slave.” The dog glared at Brass. “I’m no slave.” “Right, and I’m a Canterlot noble.” The pony mocked. “Hasn’t been any diamond dogs in these parts for years, not since the colonial army wiped them out. Nopony would ever believe you’re not a slave.” The dog stepped uncomfortably close to the pony. “I don’t care what ponies think I am.” He barred his teeth in warning, causing the pony to recoil. “Go pull your cart.” “Sure thing.” Replied Brass with a shaky grin. “Just do me a favor, and don’t get us captured by griffons.” The pony quickly set up in front the wagon. He called to Steel who had retreated a short distance. “You saw that?” Asked Brass, once Steel joined him. “He could have bitten my head off with those chompers.” “What do we do?” Asked Steel. “First of all, you’re going to help me pull.” Steel was about to complain, but was promptly rekt by the back of Brass’ pimp hoof. “No whining. Let’s just get to Morrowwood, then we can get the mare… mares some help. Not to mention, we can get away from this psycho.” With the diamond dog following behind, the two ponies set off at a quick pace. They kept on for the better part of the day. It was late afternoon. The sun was not visible through the thick clouds that threatened to drop winter’s full fury on the frosted forest below. “Can we take a break?” Asked Steel quietly. “Would you like to go ask our new ‘friend’ to stop?” Brass retorted. “Maybe he can show you that crossbow he’s got while you’re at it.” Steel gulped. “Just look at him.” Continued Brass. “Don’t actually look!” He clomped Steel on the head. “There’s something strange about that dog.” “Something strange?” “He’s too big, ears too long, teeth too- Sweet Celestia, did you see his teeth? Those were meat biters if I’ve ever seen them.” “How do you know so much about diamond dogs?” “I don’t. Something about him makes my skin crawl.” The pony shivered. “The way he walks, it’s not right. Diamond dogs walk on two legs; I’ve seen them. But he uses all four, prowling around like some beast looking for prey.” He was sweating profusely. “Brass, are you okay?” He relaxed slightly. “I’m fine. Keep pulling.” Brass clenched shut his eyes in frustration. This was supposed to be a simple delivery job. Now he had two incapacitated ponies in his cart, and an armed diamond dog breathing down his neck. Might as well have a griffon patrol stop them. ‘Yeah, that would be just excellent.’ “He’s gone!” Declared a startled Steel. ‘Or the diamond dog could just vanish. That works too.’ Brass wasn’t freaking out. Who would freak out in this situation? Not him. He was a calm and collected individual. This was clearly shown by the tears face leakage of bravery that streamed down his face. “Hey what’s that?” Steel pointed a hoof at the sky. Brass followed the gesture to see two small dots dive from the clouds and barrel towards the ponies. ‘Or both, because why not?’ Brass wept openly. “Hold there!” Bellowed a voice. The voice was followed by a flapping of wings. A pair of armed griffons landed in the path. Each sported a loaded crossbow. “Move back from the cart ponies!” Barked one of the griffons. The ponies did as they were told. One of the griffons began circling the cart while the other stood guard over the ponies. “And where would you two be headed?” Asked the nearest avian. His crossbow was cradled in a foreleg, ready for use. “J-Just going back home, sir.” Stammered Brass. Steel stood frozen. “What’s in the cart?” “Oh, just personal belongings.” The griffon glanced at the cart. “Looks a little big for two ponies’ things.” Brass fought down a wave of panic. “I’m also a merchant.” ‘Flawless execution.’ “What do you sell?” ‘Oh damn.’ Brass spat out the first thing he could think of. “Spoons.” He held a masterful poker-face. It was the same expression that had lost him every game of hold ‘em he’d ever played… and every mare he ever had… and gave him away every time he tried to rip one in public. “Spoons. Right. Check the cart.” Ordered the griffon. There was a grunt from behind the cart. “How’d they tie so tight with hooves, eh?” Muttered the other griffon, fumbling to open the tarp. “Just cut it open, idiot.” “I’d rather you didn’t.” Brass piped in. “You got something to hide, pony?” “No it’s just that-” Brass was interrupted by a loud ripping sound. The griffon on the cart gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of juice.” The two ponies were promptly shoved onto the ground. Talons and the tip of a bolt were pressed against their respective heads. “Looks like we caught us some smugglers.” Growled the griffon. “How much?” “At least an hundred bottles.” Came the reply. “Ow, you’re hurting my head.” Whined Steel. “Shut up!” The griffon pierced his talons into Steel’s skin. Bottles clinked as the other griffon rummaged through the cargo. “Two more in here, boss. This one’s scraped up real good, an’ this one smell like it’s been in the juice.” “Escaped criminals, no doubt.” “They have nothing to do with this.” Brass pleaded. “I said shut up, both of you!” The griffon pressed the crossbow harder, drawing a small trickle of blood. “What do we do?” Asked the other. “Long way back to camp, an’ I’m very hungry.” “You’re right. It is.” Said the griffon with a knowing grin. “Considering the penalty for smuggling is death…” “This isn’t fair!” Insisted Brass. “We’re Equestrian citizens.” “No one’s out here.” Said the griffon. “So you’re just going to kill us?” “No, I’m a merciful person. I’ll give you a chance. The first one to tell me where the diamond dog went gets to live.” “How did you-” The griffon laughed. “Been watching you for a while.” Said the one on the cart. “Got better eyes than ponies, we do.” “I’d like to leave now.” Said Steel quietly. His head was promptly ground into the frozen gravel. “And the other?” Demanded Brass. “Normally we’d just kill you, but since our rations have been reduced...” Brass’ eyes widened. Caught by a patrol AND eaten. Legit. “So what’ll it be pony?” continued the griffon. “Where’d the little doggy go?” “I don’t know. He just disappeared.” “Somehow I don’t believe you. What about you, grey one?” He directed his question to Steel. “Where’s he gone?” Steel whimpered. “I can see you’re a useless sack of shit.” Concluded the griffon “What about the females?” “Like I said, boss, this one’s half dead, an’ this one’s passed out cold.” Answered the other. The first griffon groaned. “Go into the bush and finish them off.” “Yes, boss.” The griffon on the cart, hauled the intoxicated mare onto his shoulder. The interrogator returned his attention to the two underneath him. “My offer still stands ponies. If you tell me, I may even leave the females by the roadside.” Something whizzed through the air and impacted with an organic sound. The griffon looked to see his comrade on the cart had dropped the female. The second griffon was desperately clutching at a bolt protruding from his throat. Gurgling on blood, he fell from the cart. The survivor reared, to bring his crossbow to bear on the threat. The moment his talons left the ground, a second bolt embedded itself at the base of his wing. He screeched in agony and fired his crossbow on reflex. The aimless bolt flew harmlessly. Looking up, he saw the snarling form of a black beast charging up the road. The griffon fought back the pain and pulled a short sword from its sheath. “Come on then!” He bellowed. Using his wings, the griffon launched towards the attacker, but fire burning in his shoulder caused his flight to veer sideways. He impacted the ground just meters from the canid. He swung his weapon in desperation. The dog dodged away from the short blade and past the downed griffon. Before he could recover, the griffon was gripped by large paws, and thrown backwards. He tried in vain to alter his course, but crashed back first into the wagon. Wood splintered and glass shattered. Clear liquid and blood soaked his feathers and fur. The diamond dog gave no reprieve. In a moment he was on top of the griffon. Feathers gave way to claws, as the dog dug into the griffon’s chest and raked his ribcage. With a determined screech, the griffon bucked at the dog’s gut. The blow caught the dog off-guard, and he toppled from the cart. The bleeding griffon lurched forward. He drew a dagger from a leg strap. He leapt from the cart and slashed. The blade caught the dog’s arm before he could evade. Both combatants twirled to face each other. The dog held his cut limb. The wound gushed blood, but was insignificant next to the burst dam that was the griffon’s chest. Blood pooled and steamed below the avian on the frozen road. The griffon erupted into a coughing fit. Blood soon dribbled from his beak as well. The griffon looked down at his fleeing vital juices. He was dead, and he knew it. The griffon gave one last shrill shriek, before charging his killer. The dagger stabbed, but the blade was halted. The canid held the griffon’s wrist in a vice. The dog’s opposite paw grabbed the griffon’s shoulder and dragged it down before a knee impacted the avian’s gut. The griffon staggered back on two legs. The dog drew close and seized the griffon’s slender neck. His free paw drew a bolt from the quiver tied to the griffon’s waist. With a roar, the bolt was driven through the griffon’s wide eye. The dog palmed the griffon’s small cranium and slammed it down onto the gravel, bolt first. The steel tip erupted out the back of the head, in a splatter of bone fragments and grey bits. The dog stood above his kill, panting. “Ponies.” The dog nodded, slumping back onto all fours. He used his claws to cut a piece of the tarp. The makeshift bandage was wrapped tightly around his wounded foreleg. The two equines stared at the blood stained diamond dog, mouths agape. The dog tilted his head in confusion. “The female still needs help.” Brass shook himself from the stupor. “Sweet Celestia! That was… that…” Steel finished the statement by vomiting onto the road. “The female.” Reminded the dog. “Oh, right.” Brass perked up and ran over to check on the wounded mare. He took care to step around the mess created by the dead griffons. “Well, little miss substance abuse is fine.” He clambered up into the cart. “They didn’t even get to your friend here.” “Not my friend.” Stated the dog. “Yeah, whatever.” The pony took on a look of horror when he noticed the contents of his cart. “Nonononono!” Nearly all the glass bottles had been smashed under the griffon. “I’m dead.” “The bottles are important?” Asked the dog. “A small fortune’s worth of juice just got destroyed. My boss is going to murder me.” “Ponies don’t kill.” “You don’t know my boss.” Stated Brass coldly. “You just had to throw that griffon into the cargo.” He pointed a hoof at the canid. “This is your fault.” Steel, who had now joined Brass at the cart, gasped aloud. “I’M TELLING!” “If I didn’t help, the griffons would have killed both of you.” The dog said, truthfully. Brass groaned. “So what?” he looked down at the broken glass. “It doesn’t matter now.” “Your boss will kill because of money?” The dog raised a brow. “It’s not that simple, but most likely yes.” The pony began to take inventory of the few remaining bottles. “What about running?” The dog asked. Brass cut the dog an incredulous glare. “The only things she hates more than botched jobs are traitors and deserters.” “You’re still taking the female for help?” Brass’ eyes shot open when he realized the wounded mare was still laying at his hooves. “Of course! The boss will have to wait.” He took up a mock triumphant pose. “Let it be known that Brass Trim always helps a mare in distress.” “And you’ll help me get into the town?” “I don’t like it, dog, but you’re right. The griffons would have killed us, and I wouldn’t be standing here worrying about punishment. I’ll make sure you get past the gate, but then we’re even.” The dog nodded. “That will work.” The canid and the ponies worked to clear the road of the corpses. They soon resumed their trek to the pony outpost. “Brass, I’m cold.” Declared Steel. 3 #fukhashtagsThe jerky was supremely dry and nasty, but it didn’t matter for two reasons: one, any food was good food, and more importantly, it was unnerving the ponies’ pup that stared in disgust. He took another bite, doing his best to do so noisily. “You want some, runt?” He teased. “Made with love and pony meat.” The wide-eyed pony fled screaming, in search of its parents. “Thought not.” The canid chuckled. He reclined against the log building and continued to munch. He’d need to find more food soon, and the pony-village had a predictable lack of dried meat to sell. They wouldn’t be willing to part with one of the few chickens they kept for eggs. They were penned up across the lane, watching him with their beady orange eyes, clucking and twitching. They knew he couldn’t get at them. They fecking knew! “Stupid Birds.” The dog growled softly and flipped them his middle digit. The rooster seemed to take notice. The plumed bird puffed up and looked straight at him. “WHAT DID YOU SAY NIGGA?!” Screamed the rooster. The dog did a double take. The chickens were back to pecking and scratching, and the rooster payed him no attention. He looked around to see if any ponies had noticed. Did that actually just happen? He rubbed his face with both paws and took a deep breath. ‘Don’t lose it now.’ With a squeak, the door to the wooden building flew open. The canid looked up to see a blue pony sticking his head through the door. “Got those items fixed up for you.” The pony called him over. “I wasn’t expecting you to wait here the whole time.” “Show me what you did.” Said the dog. A miniature workshop was set up inside the log house. The canid’s belongings, with the exception of the cloth wrapped tool still on his back, rested on the workbench. “I’m not a fan of working with leather, but I think the jacket will hold together nicely.” The stallion passed the dog a tired looking leather chest-piece. “I gave it a good oiling too.” The dog donned the vest, while the pony continued. “I did what I could with your bag.” The pony gave him the stained hide sack. “Oh, I did add a strap. The string you had going in its place, well… it wasn’t’ going.” The bag was slung across the dog’s back. The pony turned to retrieve the last item. “I don’t know how this horror held up before it got here.” The pony cradled the canid’s crossbow. The weapon was essentially two limbs tied together onto one stock. “Definitely one of the more interesting pieces I’ve worked with. The twine you had holding the bows together has been swapped for iron bolts.” The dog gingerly took the crossbow. What had once been jury-rigged out of desperation, was now beginning to look like a real weapon. “If I were you, I’d get a real craftspony to look at it. I mostly just fix hinges broken wagons, so my skill with weapons is rather basic.” “Thank you, pony.” The diamond dog put the weapon next to the bag. “I’m glad you like it.” The pony said, relieved. “Now I’m afraid it’s time to talk about payment.” When the dog didn’t react he continued. “I know we agreed on forty bits, but the crossbow did need more work than I predicted. So…” “How much?” The dog rumbled. “fifty-five.” Stated the pony, bluntly. “It may seem a little high, but-“ The dog dropped a sizable pile of gems onto the bench. The pony sorted through the pile. “This is more than enough, by my count.” “Keep it.” Ordered the canid, as he turned to leave with his equipment. “Don’t you need this for food or something?” The pony called after him. “No.” “Oh… well, thank you kindly.” The pony tried to supress his joy. “Hey, if you’re ever in town and you need a hinge fixed, you’ve got one on the house. Oh, I didn’t catch your name.” The dog paused halfway through the door. “Morg.” Brass waited nervously for the stallion in front of him to speak. The pony in question idly chewed gum while eyeing the diarrhea-esque bottle that sat on the desk between them. The off-white pony looked back at Brass. “You burned the rest?” He asked. “Yeah, I think I almost scorched a brow when the cart went up.” Answered Brass, rubbing the afflicted spot with a hoof. The pony leaned back in his seat and sighed. “I was hoping that wasn’t you.” “What do you mean?” “We heard the explosion clear from town.” Replied the pony. “Damn. Was it that loud?” “It gets better.” The pony continued. His flat tone betrayed his frustration. “Not only are the griffons going to find the wreck, but an Equestrian platoon showed up this morning.” “The buck do they want?” Brass was beginning to sweat. “It seems it finally occurred to their ‘majesties’ that the only town north of the mountains would be the first to go should war break out.” The pony explained with slight sarcasm. “Their CO wants to garrison Morrowwood, obviously not an option.” “So?” Asked Brass, not understanding. “So,” The stallion glared, “she’s undoubtedly going to take interest in your fireworks. The mare’s a terror of a unicorn. Almost as scary as the boss.” He leaned forward and rested his head on his hooves. “Almost as tall too.” “About the boss…” Brass fidgeted in discomfort. “She’s gonna be pissed, Brass. One out of forty-eight bottles is hardly delivering.” “I, uh… may have a solution.” Offered Brass. “As much as I doubt that, let’s hear it.” “The diamond dog that came into town with me…” The pony raised his brows slightly. “Ah, yes. The most ‘scary-ass looking dog you’d ever seen’. I think that was how you described it. Please explain why you had the guards let it in.” “He took down two griffons like it was nothing.” Exclaimed Brass. “It rescued you and you got it into town, in return.” Concluded the stallion. “And, I’m thinking, since he helped us out before, that with some persuasion he can do so again.” Brass sunk his voice into a hoarse whisper. “I don’t like it, but maybe this unicorn you talked about should… um, go missing?” He winced at his own suggestion. “Of all the things you could come up with, murder? I thought you were better than that. And how would that help anyway?” “So what can we do?” Brass was quickly feeling helpless. “Well we certainly don’t need a killer, so you can get that idea out of your head.” The pony paused, as he mulled over a new thought. “However, it’s not unlikely we’ll need some extra muscle around with the way things are going. I’ll look into this diamond dog of yours. Maybe it wants to earn a few bits as a guard.” He refocused. “As for what we can do, the current situation is out of our hooves. I’ve already sent a message to the boss.” “You did what?” Brass sat up straight. “You can relax. I left out anything regarding you and your shipment. That’s your responsibility.” Brass breathed in relief. “I think we’re finished Brass. Get you and your brother bundled up and get down through the pass before it gets closed off. Take whatever supplies you need from the storehouse.” Brass got up from his seat. “Thanks, Wett. But I might as well freeze to death instead of meeting the boss.” The mayor of Morrowwood cracked a smile for the first time that week. “That’s Mayor Wett. And the boss would probably thaw and resurrect you just to kill you slower. Hurry up now, before the unicorn gets here and starts asking questions.” Brass nodded and walked towards the door, the door that abruptly swung open to reveal Horny Michael Rosen a very tall unicorn mare. Her ebony coat was mostly concealed by a bulwark of armor and insulating layers. From under a trimmed, eggplant coloured mane, her eyes shone with all the fierceness of a gay fashion walk. “Speak of Discord…” Muttered Wett. Steel plates clinked as the mare stormed into the room, forcing Brass to back up in fright. She was flanked by two equally armored earth ponies. Her eyes rapidly shifted between the mayor, Brass, and the large bottle on the desk. For a moment there was silent tension, the only sound being produced by two mice humping in the corner. “Sergeant!” She ordered. One of the bulky ponies stepped forward. She pointed a hoof menacingly at Brass. “This stallion is under arrest on suspicion of smuggling.” “Wha…” Brass stammered as he backpedaled. He was too slow though and got rekt when the armored pony delivered a powerful spear tackle and bound brass’ legs with pretty good rope skills. Wett was smashing his head into the dense wood desk. “Put him in the town jail.” The unicorn barked to her subordinates. Brass was dragged out of the room by the earth ponies. The door handle lit up in the mare’s telekinetic grip, and the room was closed off. The mare clomped over and slipped into Brass’ vacant seat. Wett looked up. A small trickle of blood above his eye was the reward of his head-smashing. “Lieutenant Foxglove, aren’t you going to arrest me too?” The mare rolled her eyes. “No. I just needed your undivided attention.” Her fire had subsided somewhat. “So you arrest my guest?” Wett was incredulous. “He’ll get a minor fine and be set free.” She took another good look at the bottle. “Honestly, I don’t give a flying pile of manure about whatever operation you’re running here.” “Well… that’s good.” Wett’s eye’s narrowed. “Unless you’re trying to get a confession.” “In case you haven’t noticed, you have a small nation bearing down on your town.” “Pfft! Griffons,” Scoffed Wett, “although… I can’t deny they have been somewhat nosey lately.” The lieutenant pressed a hoof onto the table. “They want the pass, mayor. And sooner or later, they’re going to try and take it. For your town’s sake I need to move my unit inside the walls.” Wett scowled. “No.” “What do you mean no?” The mare’s anger flared up. “We're talking about your town's safety here.” “I’ve said it before, lieutenant. Morrowwood can handle itself. Unless you get it in writing from royalty, the military is not getting in here.” The unicorn contemplated the smaller male. “Idiot.” “I understand it may seem a bit ridiculous, but I have the situation under control.” The mare stood up. “This is absurd. It’s not as if your own personal army is going to come flying out of the clouds.” “It might.” Offered the mayor. The lieutenant snorted. “I’ll be back in a week with that warrant. You’d better hope it’s not too late.” Wett waved a hoof. “We’ll miss you.” He mocked. The mare was about to chastise the civilian, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Ma’am.” Came a male voice from the other side. “Enter.” Called the lieutenant. One of the soldiers opened the door. “There’s a situation at the north gate.” “What kind of situation?” The mare’s voice took on a slightly darker tone. “A small armed party of griffons is outside, saying something about an explosion.” “Dammit!” Wett and the mare cursed simultaneously. The lieutenant peered at Wett suspiciously. The mayor looked back, his eyes slightly wider than usual. “How about we go find out what they want?” Asked the unicorn. Ordering, more than suggesting. With the soldier following behind. The two left the office. The rat meat wasn’t much of an improvement over the jerky. But it was fresh… ish. It was actually rather unpleasant. Morg, however, was not in a position to complain. He swallowed the clammy piece of meat and adjusted his stance. He made sure to get his piss over as much wall as possible. ‘Mah’ ally, bitch’ He glanced at the emaciated wretch that cowered under some trash. The frail excuse for a canid shied away from the larger one’s gaze. The thing had tried to keep its food from Morg. This was of course unacceptable, and Morg had become the proud owner of three, now two, strips of slimy rat flesh. He didn’t fault the bony creature for trying to stop him. It was simply the way of things. The strong take, and the weak go without. Still, it was somewhat strange to find the diamond dog in such a state. The weak-willed ponies would be unable to stomach the thought of letting something starve within their own walls. Maybe they didn’t know. A new scent broke through the miasma of fresh urine. It was that grey pony again. Ponies almost all smelled very similar, however, this one stood out. It wasn’t a huge difference, but it was there all the same. Under the signature stench of sweat and hair, there was something, something wrong. It was getting stronger. It was unlikely that the pony would prove any real threat. Then again, Morg had been wrong about this kind of thing before. He looked back at the canid. Two glowing withered eyes smoldered from under a pile of junk. ‘End its pain.’ It would be easy, a quick twist of the neck. The thing would hardly survive the oncoming winter anyway. Morg looked at the meat-scraps clutched in his paw. ‘His food’ Morg’s paw began quivering with unwanted exertion. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘HIS. FOOD.’ Snarling, Morg whipped the rat meat at the frosted dirt. It landed with a splat in front of the trash pile. He stormed off, not bothering to watch shriveled paws lash out and grab the scraps. Why did he do that? Morg had every right to that food. So why couldn’t he just keep it? Why should he care if the canid lived or died? ‘Weak.’ It didn’t matter; the meat would hardly have filled his belly. He was still down to his last few chunks of emergency jerky. “Dammit.” He muttered quietly. The pony’s scent was undeniable now. Morg could easily hear hoof steps drawing near. He left the alley, only to confirm his suspicions. The grey pony he had met in the forest was trotting down the dirt road and looking around the log buildings rather frantically. “Pony.” Greeted Morg, Little emotion in his voice. Steel jumped back, wide eyed. He searched around for the source of the low voice. Morg’s golden orbs met him. “H-hi.” Stammered Steel. “How’d you sneak up like that?” Morg blinked. “Um… can you help me?” Steel was clearly upset about something. “Why?” Asked Morg. Steel sniffed. “They put Brass in the jail.” Morg gave a small huff of amusement. “Too bad. Don’t care.” “Please, Mr. Dog.” Pleaded Steel. “We just wanted to go home, but Brass got arrested by some army ponies.” “Pony soldiers, here?” Now Morg was concerned. “Yeah, they took Brass, for having that juice bottle.” Steel’s eyes were beginning to tear. “Why would they do that? The ponies here never cared about the bottles.” Morg considered the situation. The smelly liquid was apparently outlawed. If what the grey one said was true, they had only been caught once pony soldiers had arrived. That could only mean that there was something larger taking place. Interesting, but ultimately irrelevant. “Not my problem.” Morg needed to leave before more soldiers showed up. Soldiers meant horned ponies. Horned ponies meant magic. Magic meant burnt fur and broken limbs. Or he could use… 'Yes.' No, picking a fight with magic users was always a bad idea, even if he used ‘it’. “B-but, Mr. Dog.” Tears streamed from the pony’s eyes. “You have to. The griffons will come if we can’t leave.” “The griffons.” Morg had forgotten about them. Of course they would come looking for their missing patrol. And the two no-horns were witnesses. Now he had no choice. Morg sighed. “Fine.” “Wha-?” Steel, who had been on the verge of crying, looked up. “I said fine. I will help.” Steel’s mood immediately rebounded. “Oh thank you, Mr. Dog!” “Morg.” “Oh, okay Mr. Morg.” The pony then raced off towards the town center with Morg in tow. The jailhouse was a small log building, like much of the town. The door was left completely unguarded. “Where are the guards?” Asked Morg. Looking around there was not a soul to be seen. “I don’t know.” Steel was just as confused. “They were here when I left.” They approached, and, finding the door unlocked, entered. The interior was dimly lit by a lantern and what little light came in the single window. There were only a few cells in the building. Not much of a need for a jail in a town so small, thought Morg. “Oh thank Faust.” Came a voice. From the darkness of a cell. Brass stepped forward. “I didn’t think you would actually show up. So, thanks I guess.” “The griffons will come for their patrol.” Morg stated matter-of-factly. “You saw me kill them.” “Ah,” Brass deflated slightly, “that explains it. Well then, if you’re going to get me out of here jump to it. If we can’t make the pass before it freezes over, it won’t matter anyway.” “Keys.” “They are conveniently hanging on the wall behind you.” Morg turned and noticed keys conveniently hanging on the wall behind him. “Woah, how did you know?” Asked Steel, mesmerized. “Are you a psychic pony?” Both Brass and the canid both stared at Steel in amazement. “Are you serious right now?” Deadpanned Brass. “I swear you’re getting worse.” Morg grabbed the keys and unlocked the cell. The three left the jail and set off through Morrowwood. A light snow was beginning to fall. Lieutenant Foxglove marched up the dirt road, accompanied by the mayor. “I’ll do the talking. We’ll find out what they want. They’ll leave. And then you’ll tell me what the buck caused that explosion.” Foxglove instructed the mayor, who nodded in reply. Ahead of them, a small group of lightly armored griffons stood inside the town gate. They were surrounded by a handful of nervous looking guards. The few pegasai present had taken up positons on low rooftops and had their crossbows trained on the intruders. Faint conversation could be heard. “Pony, we won’t cause any trouble, just let us through so we can get what we need.” The lead griffon spoke. “No-pony moves ‘til the mayor gets here.” Ordered the guard. The griffon turned his attention to the pair that had just arrived. “What’s going on here?” Demanded the Lieutenant. Foxglove stepped through the guards to confront the griffon. Her added height put her level with the avian. The griffon took a step back. “Griffs say they’re investigating, ma’am.” Foxglove’s sergeant replied. Foxglove raised a brow at the griffon. It was the griffons’ turn to look nervous. It seemed they were unaware of a military presence. “You’re trespassing here, speak your business and leave.” Ordered Foxglove. The griffon attempted to regain some composure. “We are investigating the murder of two of ours. We believe the murderers may have fled to your village.” He explained. “Murder or not, bringing an armed party across the border is a political offense.” The griffon tried to smile. “We are but independent mercenaries.” Foxglove looked over the group. “And that’s not a Colonial emblem on her shoulder pad.” Foxglove gestured at one of the griffons. The leader wheeled in surprise. “Idiots,” He whispered rather loudly. “I told you to scrape those off!” He turned back to find an unimpressed foxglove. “This murder, where’s your evidence?” Foxglove returned to the subject. The griffon, forgetting his predicament, ordered a selection away. They returned, lugging a stretcher. A griffon was laid out, his throat covered in bandages. “Poor Geoffrey here, was minding his own business when he got shot. We found him beside the road with a bolt in his neck, barely breathing, blood everywhere.” “Did he say who attacked him?” Asked Foxglove. “Well, he tried to tell us,” At this the wounded griffon let out a pained gurgle. “But it seems the bolt damaged his speech.” “Convenient.” Noted Foxglove. “Quite.” The griffon said with a frown. “After this, we heard an explosion. Following the smoke, we found a burning wagon near your town. We extinguished the flames to find the remains of Geoffrey’s partner. It seems what wasn’t burned had been torn apart. Logically we assumed that the culprits could only come here.” Foxglove was silent for a moment. “Interesting story.” She spoke. “But I fail to see why I should let you into town.” “We wish only to search for the murderers.” “From what I gather, you don’t even know what these suspects look like, or if there is more than one.” The griffon interrupted, sneering. “Oh please. No single combatant could hope to take down two of our finest scouts.” Foxglove snorted. There was that signature arrogance. “Tell me this then. It’s clear at this point that you are not mercs. So, I would like to know what your scouts were doing in Equestrian land.” The griffon was looking uncomfortable. “I assure you that the explosion was in our territory.” “So you admit that you’re Colonial military?” Interrupted the Lieutenant. The griffon tried to retort but Foxglove continued. “You know what I think?” She began. “I think this whole thing is an excuse to get your troops into Morrowwood. Furthermore…” The griffons were not listening anymore. The entire party’s eyes were tracking the three figures crossing the street behind Foxglove. The griffon on the stretcher weakly pointed a talon, and made some nasty moist choking sounds. Foxglove turned and saw the two earth-ponies and diamond dog. “That’s them!” Shouted the lead griffon. “It has to be.” He spread his wings and was about to launch forward, but was halted by a purple magic wall. “No-pony move!” Barked Foxglove. “I’ll handle this.” Noticing they had been spotted, Brass looked calmly at the other two. “Run.” They wasted no time. Down the frosted dirt paths they fled. A dusting of snow now covered the ground. Lieutenant Foxglove pursued. She was just out of kinesis range, but gaining slowly. Whoever these idiots were, they were surely the source of the confusion at the gate. ‘Wait a minute.’ The off-gold stallion was the one from Wett’s office. How the buck did he get out? Foxglove’s horn lit up. She cast a quickening spell on her hooves. Nothing too draining, just enough to close the distance. Morg was panicking internally. Now the griffons and the soldier ponies had seen him. Better yet, a horn-pony was chasing them. He expected at any moment to have a spell tear his insides out his butthole. “Fuckin’ magicks.” He muttered. The group reached a straight stretch. The south gate was ahead of them now. “Oh what does it matter?” Cried Brass. “Even if we escape, the griffons will just fly ahead. We don’t even have any supplies to get over the pass.” They began to lose hope and speed. The exhaustion from the sudden exertion was beginning to weigh down on them. Fear forced them into a second wind as Foxglove burst from a side street, doing a schwifty little power slide across the snow-sprinkled path. Her furious glare locked onto the group. “Got you now!” She yelled. They were in kinesis range. The ponies and Morg were tripped by invisible graspers and swiftly dragged into the air. Foxglove was panting, but she had them. Everything was under control. She could give the griffons their prize. They’d probably be satisfied with the diamond dog alone. They’d leave, and she could get the town straightened out. Then her kinesis brushed against the canid’s back, or more specifically what was on it. Her magic immediately lost its grip. The three captives fell to the earth. Foxglove recoiled as a sharp pain appeared in her horn. “What the buck?” She cursed under her teeth. It was too late. The ponies and dog were on their feet. “Come on, let’s go!” said Brass. “No.” Said Morg. “Umm, hello? Being chased, need to run.” “Like you said pony, the griffons will catch us.” Morg said calmly. “So we just give up?” “I didn’t say that.” Morg allowed the shadow of a grin to cross his face. 'Yes.' “But we do this my way.” Morg whispered. The pain was receding. Foxglove refocused. “You, don’t move.” She ordered. Morg slowly rose to his hind legs and reached back, ignoring the dull ache in his spine. “I said don’t move!” With a pull, the cloth covering the object on Morg’s back fell away. It was carried off by a winter breeze. Morg now grasped a hilt. Out from the scabbard, the long thin blade emerged. The sword was gripped with both paws and pointed towards Foxglove. The lieutenant stared. It was black. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) The blade seemed to suck in the light around it. Foxglove felt a sudden urge to get as far away as possible. But she was not the type to run. The unicorn concentrated and an orange ball of flame materialized at the tip of her horn. She fixed her sights on the dog holding the evil sword. His eyes met hers. The shimmering golden irises seemed to pierce through armor and flesh alike. And, for a moment, Foxglove imagined she saw a great darkness, capable of only hatred and destruction. And it was very spooky. “Go back to whatever hell you came from!” The fireball was released. It sailed in a spiraling pattern towards Morg. The canid tightened his gaze. He slowly retracted the sword, winding up a strike. The spell was mere yards away, and Morg could feel the growing heat. Roaring, he swung with all his body. The blade made contact with the flaming orb. Rather than pass through the ball of energy, the blade redirected it as if it was solid. The fireball was now travelling back towards its caster with increased force. Foxglove barely saw it coming, and when she did it was too late. The orb impacted the unicorn. She was knocked from her hooves, backwards onto the cold ground. Brass and Steel stood, mouths agape. “Get close to me.” Ordered the canid. The ponies did as they were told. “NOW!” Shouted Morg in a voice that wasn’t quite his. The black blade was stabbed into the frozen earth. A network of glowing purple veins erupted around the sword. Morg began to carve, moving the blade around the affected soil, making unknown runes and symbols. “What are you doing?” Asked a concerned Brass. There was no reply. Morg withdrew the blade briefly before plunging it once more into the center of the magic circle. Bright purple flames leapt from the runes, consuming the three above. With a deafening thunder crack, they were gone, the runes and the beings. In their wake a small symbol of the same sickly colour was left. Then all was silent, save for the faint patter snowflakes make when they reach the ground. A set of hooves slowly made their way over to where the ponies and dog had stood. A drained and singed Lieutenant Foxglove peered at the fading symbol. It had been a long time since she had seen such magic. “So,” Came a voice from behind, “it seems you let them escape.” The griffon leader held a smug expression. “You harbor dark magic users, and refuse to let us pursue justice. My superiors will hear of this.” “Get out of my country.” Said Foxglove coldly. The griffon backed away with a mock bow. “Of course your highness. We’ll be seeing you soon.” The griffon took flight, and Foxglove was left with her thoughts. Wett was approaching with the Sergeant. “Ma’am, are you alright?” Asked the soldier. “I’m fine!” Snapped the Lieutenant. “Fetch the troops. They garrison the town tonight.” “Hold on…“ Wett tried to interrupt only to have the mare turn on him. “And you!” She barked. Foxglove took a moment to breathe. “We’re going back to your office and you’re going to tell me EVERYTHING.” “Everything?” “Everything.” “Shit.”
1 #spoopycaveOnce upon a time, in the magical land of HELL!!! “I don’t trust you.” The red stallion glared across the tunnel at the ominous silhouette of a diamond dog. The dog’s dark fur made him nearly invisible against the cave wall. “Good, you might live longer that way.” Replied the dog. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Asked the stallion with concern. Even under his cloth wrapped armor, a chill drove down his spine. He could have sworn the dog’s reflective irises looked hungry. “It means you’re smarter than most of your kind.” Explained the dog. “If I was a different dog I would have killed both of you.” “That’s reassuring.” Said the stallion sarcastically. He placed more wood on the small fire that sat between him and the diamond dog. The flames grew, and he was briefly able to make out the unsettling canid face. The dog chuckled and laid down on the stone floor. “Sleep pony. You’ll need your strength.” The stallion adjusted his position against the wall. “I’m good, thanks.” He looked down at the mare sleeping beside him. No way was he going to doze off and let this creep slit their throats. He’d probably eat them too. Steady breathing was the dog’s only response. The pony sighed. He had no idea of the time except that it was night, if the lack of light refracting from the cave entrance was anything to go by. Some time passed. With nothing else to do, the stallion began softly humming a tune. The stone tunnel created a slight echoing effect. The dog’s ears twitched. “Oh, were you asleep already?” asked the stallion. “Not yet.” Said the dog without opening his eyes. “I was wondering, what is this place? This cave is not a natural formation.” The stone tunnel was uniformly straight, angled downward in tiers, almost like giant elongated stairs. “Long time ago it was a den.” The stallion raised an eyebrow. “A den, as in a diamond dog den? This seems like awfully nice architecture compared to most dens I’ve seen.” “A very powerful alpha lived here.” “Which alpha?” “Don’t remember. Was before the griffons came.” “Oh, one of the pre-colonization clans?” Asked the stallion. The dog let out a snort of amusement. “That’s what you call it?” The pony was mildly confused. “Well, that’s kind of what happened.” “If you say so.” The dog shifted “No more talking now. “Your humming is nice though.” “Umm… thanks?” The pony was not expecting a complement. “Quietly.” “Oh.” The tunnel was once again silent, save for the occasional crackle of the fire or the distant echo of the wind. The stallion began humming again, albeit as quietly as possible. His eyes began to droop. He caught himself once or twice, but ultimately exhaustion won the battle. The humming stopped and was replaced by slow steady breathing. Thunder Stone awoke to a burnt out campfire. The only visible light was dim and grey. She raised her head from the stone floor. “Red.” She called quietly, as she prodded the not so vigilant sentry. The crimson pony inhaled slowly before letting out a long breath. He relaxed again, so thunder poked him once more. This time he jumped up with a start. “Wasn’t sleeping!” He declared. Thunder watched as Red looked around the gloomy tunnel. “Oh no.” “What?” Asked Thunder nervously. “He’s gone!” “Who?” She asked. Then it dawned on her. “Where’s the diamond dog?” “The bastard waited for me to fall asleep. We’re lucky to be alive.” Thunder fought down the urge to panic. They were here for a reason after all, and she wasn’t about to let some mangy dog get in the way. “It doesn’t matter. The mission goes on.” Red looked at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Ma’am, I appreciate your commitment but I would rather get out of here than go spelunking into some pitch black Tartarus pit, and potentially face some screwed up, predator diamond dog.” Thunder glared back. “Then I’ll be needing the lantern.” “What?” Demanded Red. “You don’t have to come, but I didn’t spend two weeks trekking here just to turn around because a diamond dog didn’t show up for breakfast.” “Seriously?” “Yes. Now give me that lantern or get in front of me and carry it, because we are not leaving until we finish this.” Ordered Thunder. “But that dog could be waiting to ambush us!” Pleaded the stallion. Thunder considered the very real possibility of being attacked by the dog, but her commitment to her mission overruled her fears. “Objection noted.” She said calmly. “But I’m not going back with empty saddlebags.” Red shook his head in rejection. He knew the futility of arguing with a female. “Alright, fine.” He groaned. “Can we at least eat first?” “Of course.” Thunder said with a grin. She reached into one of her saddlebags she left on the floor. The limited light made it hard to find the items, but she eventually retrieved two packages and a canteen. “How’s dry oatcakes and water sound?” She said cheerfully. Red groaned again. Breakfast was basic for the two travelers. The longevity of their trip reduced them to nonperishable foods. But they crunched and slurped with great vigor. Even bland foods can seem a delicacy to the very hungry. “I hate caves.” Said Red with a mouthful of oatcake. Very unprofessional for an Equestrian soldier, but he wasn't in the business of caring. “Ah, the truth comes out.” Cheered Thunder softly. “So what is it, the dark? Bats? Pointy-eared diamond dogs?” Red’s expression fell at the last item. “Don’t act like he doesn't scare you too. And no, it’s actually the tight spaces.” “Claustrophobia?” Asked Thunder. “No.” Said Red. “The Shirt family has never had a good history with enclosed spaces. Some kind of curse.” “You can’t be serious.” Thunder tried not to laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right there with you the whole time.” She tried to reassure him. “Thank you ma’am.” Red was not comforted, not one bit. “You can call me ma’am when were back in Canterlot. Let’s get moving.” The two ponies collected their gear and, one more reluctantly than the other, set off deeper into the den. The tunnel fell once again silent. No sound came from the remains of the fire, nor from the black shape that followed the two ponies. Red ensured the lantern was still secured to the front of his saddlebags. The light only pushed back a small area of darkness. The pair had since reached the end of the great stairs on which they had camped. The den opened up into an area of finely cut corridors and rooms, all built around what appeared to be a great hall. Red looked around wide-eyed at the remains of what appeared to be ornate decorations. The stallion gave a low whistle. “That diamond dog said this was a den, but this is beyond any den I’ve ever seen.” Said Red. He looked at Thunder. “Did you know about this ma’am?” “Yes.” Replied the mare. “Why didn’t you mention this?” Thunder stopped, pointed a hoof at a dust covered symbol on the wall. Red stepped closer. It was well worn but Red could just make out a silver circle with a crimson paw print in the center. A large black sword was engraved vertically through the center of the paw. Red gasped. “Is that…” “Deepstone.” Stated Thunder. Red wheeled around at the smaller mare. “You were hiding this from me?” “Yes.” Said thunder, unflinching. “My employers felt it best for me not to tell you until we were already here. Your commanding officer knows too.” Red was fuming. “Mission aborted. We’re leaving.” Thunder didn’t move. “I was told to tell you that you’ll receive a substantial pay raise upon completion of the mission.” “It’ll take more than a few bits to make me stay here. Place is bloody haunted.” Red spat against the wall and turned to leave. “Wait a second.” Called Thunder. “You can’t possibly believe in those ponytales.” “I’m sorry ma’am, but I’m afraid I do.” The mare stamped a hoof. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Red was still plodding away. “This mission concerns the fate of Equestria.” Red stopped walking. “How so?” Asked the disheartened soldier. Thunder paused. Should she tell him? She figured he would find out anyway. “There is rumored to be a large deposit of black steel in the den.” Red didn’t respond at first. “Well that’s different then, isn't it? Do the princesses know?” “No, just my department. They feel it best that the griffons don’t have it.” Red drew in a long breath. He nodded with understanding. “So how does this affect us?” “We’re scouting. If there’s nothing here, we can go home and never speak of this again.” “And if we do find something?” “Then our job gets more complicated.” Two shiny yellow eyes tracked the herbivores’ progress. Once the ponies had rounded another corner, the eyes and their owner padded after the fading torchlight. A pointy grin spread on his muzzle. He was at first concerned when the two had started bickering. The larger red one clearly feared the dark tunnels, albeit for the wrong reasons. The emerald green female was harder to read. She was obviously valuable to the red male, but not in the way one values a mate. The male acted like a soldier, if perhaps a mediocre one, so perhaps the female outranked him. The male clearly respected her, but not like an officer. The diamond dog paused at the corner to let the ponies gain some distance. If the female wasn't an officer then why was the red one being led by her? Maybe the female was wealthy and had hired the large male for protection. But why was she wandering an abandoned den? It couldn't have been greed that drove her; there were no riches to be had in the place. She did mention black-steel however. An odd thing for ponies to search for. The horned ones hated it. Maybe the two no-horns wanted to kill a magic user. That wouldn't make sense though. The overly peaceful ponies abhorred killing. Ultimately it was of little consequence to the dog. His prize was calling to him. Once the two had made it some way down the corridor, the diamond dog moved from his spot. He was careful to lift his claws as any sound could give him away. Darkened archways appeared on either side of the tunnel. The dog’s sensitive vision used what little light the ponies’ torch made to see into the rooms. He saw the remains of sleeping areas in one. In another, he could see an immense kitchen. Diamond dogs eat more than minerals, contrary to popular belief. A larger gap appeared on his left. He shied away when he realized what it lead to. His hackles rose, and he refused to give even a passing glimpse at what lurked inside. Instead, he quickened his pace to get passed the dark maw. He just had to focus on the ponies and he’d be fine. ‘Oh.’ He froze. The ponies had stopped only meters in front of him. If they turned around, there would be nowhere for him to go, except into the room he had desperately tried to avoid. The dog began to creep backwards. He just had to get to any other room and he could hide. The ponies were talking. Maybe it was enough for him to risk moving a little faster. *Tick* A claw grazed the smooth stone floor. The male’s ears twitched. “What was that?” The diamond dog shut his eyes. His coat blended enough to buy him a few milliseconds but his reflective eyes would give him away instantly. There was no choice. He lunged through the arch directly to his left and quickly backed himself into the corner beside the entrance. “What was what?” Asked the female. “Thought I saw something go into that room.” The dog heard the ponies’ slowly approaching, but he refused to open his eyes. The hoof steps stopped in the middle of the archway. “Anything?” “There’s some kind of mound in the center of the room.” Replied the male. “Wait, are those bones?” The dog tried pressed further into the corner, unsuccessfully attempting to escape the ponies and the room’s contents. “There must be dozens. What happened?” The mare whispered in surprise. “Not sure. Do you see how they’re all blackened?” “They were burned? Was it some kind of mass funeral?” “I don’t think so. Look at that one.” There was a silence. “They burned the young.” The mare declared with disbelief. “So was it worth coming to here?” Asked Red sarcastically. The female took a deep breath. “Let’s finish this and get out.” The hoof steps faded down the tunnel. The diamond dog was left alone in the stone room. He didn’t move until he was sure the ponies were far enough. Very hesitantly his eyes opened. They were staring at him. All of them. The dog fled the room with his tail tucked. He collapsed in the tunnel. Terror had pushed the air out of his lungs and he drew in ragged breaths. For several moments, he stayed there, with tears running down his muzzle. He wordlessly prayed that he was anywhere else. He’d even take a griffon mine over this tomb. His sensitive hearing could still make out the ponies’ voices. “I don’t like this.” The male. “Look at these claw marks. No diamond dog has claws that big.” There was a faint sniffing sound. “And it stinks like something died in there.” “And that’s where we need to go.” The dog inhaled sharply. The ponies weren’t the only ones with a mission to accomplish. He rose up on all fours. They were close now. The two ponies hesitantly descended a narrow staircase. This lower pathway spawned feelings of unease in both of them. The stone walls were scored with massive gashes as if some great beast had clawed its way down the tunnel. The air was also thick with the pungency of rotting organs. Thunder looked closely at one of the marks. Whatever made the incision had dug nearly two centimeters into the solid rock. “What could have done this?” She whispered. “Nothing good.” Replied Red quietly. The torchlight barely revealed dark stains on the stone stairs. Red eyed the dried splotches with sudden dread. He met Thunder’s nervous gaze. She had seen them too. “I really think we should turn back ma’am.” Murmured Red. Thunder considered the option for a moment. “No. If my information is correct, then this leads to where the black steel is stored.” “I can somewhat grasp the importance of the mission, ma’am, but I feel that if we go down there we’ll get mauled by… something.” “We have to at least check it out.” Pleaded Thunder. Red looked at the mare with a serious expression. “Fine, but you keep quiet, stay behind me, and do exactly as I say.” He made sure that the short spear secured on his pack was readily accessible. The mare nodded in understanding. “Thank you Red.” Several moments later, the ponies reached the bottom of the staircase. They stood in a space to wide for the lantern light to fill. The stench of rot was now stronger. “Which way?” Mumbled Red in a barely audible whisper. Thunder, as silently as she could, pulled a sketched map from her saddlebags. She studied it briefly before pointing with a hoof towards their destination. After she returned the map, the two softly plodded in the direction Thunder had indicated. They had to skirt around several workbenches and piles of scrap metal that cluttered the floor. While Red had scanned for danger, he failed to notice a small wooden bucket directly in his path. He kicked it with a smack. They both froze. The bucket rolled away, into the decayed leg of a workbench. The legs that supported the stone table were rotted to the point of near collapse. Contact with the bucket was all it needed to give way. The stone bench fell with a boom. This table, obviously a table for constructing more buckets, released its contents onto the floor. The plethora of wooden buckets rattled off into the darkness. When the noise died away, the ponies released the breaths they were clenching, only to hear the crash of a bucket knocking over a pile of scrap metal. This was followed by the sound of a bucket breaking a pane of glass, which was followed by the splash of a bucket falling into a pool of water, which was followed by the boom of a bucket knocking over another workbench, which was followed by the unknown sound of a bucket breaking a bucket, which was followed by the crunch of a bucket being run over by a semi, which was followed by the scream of a terrified bucket falling down a well, which was followed by the explosion of a jihadist bucket. And then there was silence. They waited. The buckets had finally stopped. Thunder sighed. “And you said I had to be quiet.” The ponies moved on with the hope that they were the only ones who had heard the noise. They soon reached the edge of the room. The torch cast it’s glow on a larger version of the Deepstone insignia. “I don’t understand.” Thunder retrieved her map. “There’s supposed to be a room here.” She glared angrily at the symbol on the wall. “What if it’s a false wall?” Suggested Red. Thunder looked at him dumbfounded. “That’s silly. You honestly think that diamond dogs could make a false wall?” She knocked on the wall with a hoof. “Ma’am, it was just a suggestion.” She began walking along the wall. “Maybe the map was off a bit.” Red followed behind. The smell was growing again, stronger this time. They soon found the source. Thunder gasped. Splayed on the floor in front of them were the deteriorating remains of a deer, more specifically the ass end. Red stepped closer while Thunder just stared wide eyed. “Torn right in half…” Red mused. He looked at Thunder. “Only a few subterranean creatures can do that.” “C-Cave bear.” Stammered the mare. “I don’t know.” Said Red doubtfully. “It’d have to be an awfully big cave bear.” Hot reeking air wafted from behind the stallion. His eyes pin-pricked as he realized his predicament. “Of course.” For a split second, Red saw a dark shape enter his vision. Next thing he knew, he was moving very quickly, too quickly in fact. He braced himself for the inevitable impact with the floor or the wall, whichever came first, possibly both at the same time. It turns out he hit neither of these things. His fall was cushioned by a convenient pile of wooden buckets. Many buckets gave their lives to protect the armored stallion. Lest we forget. Red struggled to free himself from the tangle of splinters and buckets. When he righted himself, he was amazed to find that his lantern had come with him, intact too. He then noticed that he could not see Thunder or the cave bear. A loud female shriek came from across the room, so did the sounds of some great thing moving. The stallion had to act fast, or the mare would be no better off than the deer carcass. He screamed into the darkness. “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH!” Two red irises turned to face the light. An earthshaking roar assaulted Red’s ears. The sound was amplified by the natural acoustics of the room, and caused the stallion to wince. Then it charged, crashing through the room’s contents as if they were nonexistent. The two-thousand pound animal was in full sprint. The stallion readied his weapon, not that he expected to do much damage. “Stupid family curse.” He muttered in defeat. At least the bear was distracted from Thunder. Maybe she would get away. Red’s whole body shook from the sheer mass of the approaching beast. The thing became visible in the lantern light. Its head was bigger than the pony’s whole torso. Immense jaws of yellow teeth bore down on the stallion. He reared and used both forelegs to thrust the spear. The small steel tip found purchase in the back of the giant reeking maw. For a blink of time, Red rejoiced in his small victory. Then the mouth snapped shut. ‘Stupid ponies.’ They had seen the blood and claw marks. Still they had gone on to their doom. And they did perfectly. The bear would be too distracted by the ponies to notice him until it was too late. The den's forge had been dominated by that beast of a cave bear for months. No matter how quiet he was, or how much he dampened his scent with mud, the bear always detected him. This was his first real opportunity to get past. He watched from the entrance of the dome shaped room. The ponies couldn’t see it with their weak eyes, but the diamond dog could just make out the breathing mountain that rested in the center. He began edging around the perimeter, keeping the ponies between him and the bear. Halfway across, the ponies had knocked over some buckets. In the resulting ruckus, the dog saw the bears ears twitch. Only after the ponies moved on, did the small hill move. It didn’t look at the ponies. Instead locked eyes with the barely visible diamond dog before quietly lumbering after the two equines. A shiver passed through the dog, as he understood the bear’s message: ‘M8, I’ll fuck you.’ Seizing his shrinking time, the dog darted for his objective as fast as his paws could push him. Several moments later, he entered a small corridor. The ambient light from the torch could not reach this smaller passage, so the dog felt his way along. Feeling a gap in the wall, he entered into another smaller room. It was in there. He could feel its call. Soon it would be his again. He felt past empty weapon racks, occasionally coming across a rotting spear or shield. A scream from the female quickened his pace. ‘Where is it?’ “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH!” The male shouted. Was the idiot actually challenging the thing? Apparently he was, as the bear answered with a roar that made the dog double over and grab his ears. He recovered and frantically felt around the floor. He froze when his paw brushed against something. He grabbed the oblong object. The shape was correct, but he couldn’t be sure. He stood up and swung the thing with both paws. The unmistakable balance of a tool crafted by a master. A comforting warmth welled up in the dog. It was his again. He slung the tool across his back. When he returned to the forge room, the lantern had gone out, and the room was encased in sheer black. Fortunately the bear was telegraphing her location via cries of frustration and pain. Hearing that it was preoccupied, the diamond dog padded out into the forge. He had to move slowly to avoid bumping into anything. The bear continued to grunt and snarl. Had the ponies managed to hurt it? The dog’s thoughts were interrupted when he nearly stumbled over a pile on the floor. The mound was breathing. He sniffed. It was the female. She smelled of blood. He prodded the mare with a paw. Unconscious. He raised his head to listen. The bear was now making coughing noises. The dog returned his attention to the pony. There was no time for this. The ponies had served their purpose. She would only weigh him down. His hackles began to erect. He could feel them watching him again. Boring holes into his very being with their empty eyes. Closing in with their bony claws. ‘Leave her.’ ‘No.’ They tried to stop him, but he barged through. The dog felt their frigid paws desperately groping him and shook them off. Then he ran. He was nearly at the exit, but the buckets came. They were always subtle, but deadly nonetheless. They appeared in the form of a small stack. A stack that was abruptly toppled as the galloping diamond dog plowed through them. The buckets made a great clatter as they fell. For a second, all was still. Across the room, their came one final coughing sound before some small metal object tumbled to the floor with a clang. Then a sniff. Not a teensy little dainty sniff, but the great whooshing of air entering a massive hypersensitive orifice. The dog’s eyes went wide. At first he thought he felt an earthquake, but the rumble materialized into the growl of an oversized animal. In a final act of evil, one last precariously positioned bucket fell to the ground. The bear roared as it locked onto the sound, aided by the stench of pony and dog. The dog made a beeline for the exit. The thundering bearpocalypse was gaining quickly. One misstep and he would be trampled. The bear roared again. The dog wanted to cover his ears in pain, but couldn’t. He could feel the rancid heat of the bear’s breath blowing moisture into his coat. Then he was in the tunnel. His paws caught on the stairs, dropping him and his passenger onto the steps. The dog’s ears popped as the bear rammed into the wall and plugged the tunnel entrance. He sat in the darkness, panting heavily. He’d actually done it. He had what he came for, and had managed to save one of the ponies. Shame about the other one, he had such nice humming. The bear noisily recoiled from the door. The dog’s mood instantly fell. For a moment, the bear seemed to have given up. The dog’s ears popped again as the hole was filled. The tunnel was gifted with the decadent aroma of the bear’s breath. (I lied. It smelled worse than shit.) Scraping was heard as a clawed paw was forced into the stairway. The dog grabbed the pony and dragged her up the steps. He could hear the grind of claws on stone. The bear had somehow stuffed itself into the stairway. It pulled closer, as the diamond dog retreated. Then the diamond dog kicked the bear in the eyeball, because swag, and also plot progression. He hefted the dank memes pony onto his back and ran out of the cave all like WEHEEEEEEHEHHEHEHEEEEE! But he didn’t look in the spooky room because 2spoopy4doge.
2 #coldforestA wibbly wobbly wagon wibble wobbled super hard under the shade of pine trees. Its cargo made pretty little clinking sounds. One pony pulled the cart while another walked behind. It was cold. “Brass, it’s cold.” Whined the unburdened one. “Steel.” Said brass calmly. “Yes?” “You just told me that, FIVE BUCKING MINUTES AGO!” “Geeeeeeeze. You don’t have to yell. I’m just saying, it’s cold.” “Do you even understand how far north we are?” “Well, yeah. But it’s still cold.” “How about you try pulling for a while, huh? That’ll warm you right up.” “But I don’t like pulling.” Brass groaned audibly. “I swear, if I wasn’t related to you…” The tarp covering the cargo shifted, revealing a less than sober mare. “Heeeeeyyyy guuuuyysss.” Murmured the pony. Brass looked back in shock. “What in Tartarus are you doing in there? I thought we left you back in… Oh no. You got into the juice didn’t you?” “Juice?” Puzzled the mare. “Naaaahhh brah, just took a swig of some of this stuff you got back here.” The stallion clenched his eyes shut in disbelief. “Why is this happening to me?” “Never liked juice.” Continued the mare obliviously. “Apple juice, orange juice, cranberry juice…” “I’m still cold” Complained Steel. “JUST SHUT UP!” Screamed Brass. “Steel, if I hear one more complaint, I’m going to seriously harm you. And you,” he gestured at the inebriated mare “I don’t even know your name. Get out from there.” “Kay.” The mare stood up and promptly fell down, smashing her head on the wooden rail. “On second thought,” Brass replaced the tarp “just stay put.” The wagon resumed its journey, despite the driver’s temptation to stop believing. “Hey, bro?” Called Steel. “What?” “I love you.” “Go plow yourself.” Grumbled Steel. It was nearly midday and Brass had no intention of staying a night in the forest. If hypothermia didn’t kill him, the starving predators would. Not to mention his shipment of narcotics wouldn’t reach his boss on time. Maybe if he killed Steel it would slow down the carnivores long enough for him to get away. But then he’d still have to deal with his boss. Being eaten alive sounded like a better idea. “Hey, Brass?” called Steel. “SWEET CELESTIA, WHAT?” “There’s a diamond dog over there.” Brass was so caught up in contemplating his death, he failed to notice the large black diamond dog at the edge of the path. Being the calm and collected individual that he was, Brass let out a high pitched scream and darted behind the opposite side of the cart. He peeked over the side cautiously. “What do you want?” Called Brass. “You’re going across the border?” Asked the dog. “What’s it to you?” Replied Brass from his hiding place of power and masculinity. “This female is hurt. She needs pony doctors.” Brass noticed the emerald green mare slung across the dog’s back. “He’s got a pony, Brass.” Declared Sir Obvious the Third. “I can see that.” Spat Brass at Steel. “You, dog, put her on the cart.” The diamond dog padded over. He leaned to one side, and the mare slid onto the end of the wagon. Brass eyed the now much closer diamond dog. It had a large sack tied to its back, along with a sizable crossbow, and a long object wrapped in cloth. He gestured at the dog to back off and moved to inspect the mare. “What did you do to her?” Asked Brass, in awe. The mare’s shoulder was laid open from one long gash, and blood seeped out from the partially dried wound. A large cut on her head was also concerning. Brass climbed onto the wagon and retrieved a glass bottle from under the tarp. “This should help,” He poured a small amount of clear liquid onto the mare’s shoulder. “Probably.” “Will she survive?” Asked the dog. “No clue.” Concluded Brass. “We’ll get her back to Morrowwood.” He pushed the mare under the spartan cover offered by the tarp. “Should be there before dusk. Come on Steel.” “They can repair weapons there?” Inquired the dog. “There’s probably a craftspony or something. Why?” “I’m coming.” The pony stamped a hoof. “Nuh uh. Not happening.” Brass was insistent. “There’s no way, especially in griffon territory, I am going to get caught traveling with some escaped slave.” The dog glared at Brass. “I’m no slave.” “Right, and I’m a Canterlot noble.” The pony mocked. “Hasn’t been any diamond dogs in these parts for years, not since the colonial army wiped them out. Nopony would ever believe you’re not a slave.” The dog stepped uncomfortably close to the pony. “I don’t care what ponies think I am.” He barred his teeth in warning, causing the pony to recoil. “Go pull your cart.” “Sure thing.” Replied Brass with a shaky grin. “Just do me a favor, and don’t get us captured by griffons.” The pony quickly set up in front the wagon. He called to Steel who had retreated a short distance. “You saw that?” Asked Brass, once Steel joined him. “He could have bitten my head off with those chompers.” “What do we do?” Asked Steel. “First of all, you’re going to help me pull.” Steel was about to complain, but was promptly rekt by the back of Brass’ pimp hoof. “No whining. Let’s just get to Morrowwood, then we can get the mare… mares some help. Not to mention, we can get away from this psycho.” With the diamond dog following behind, the two ponies set off at a quick pace. They kept on for the better part of the day. It was late afternoon. The sun was not visible through the thick clouds that threatened to drop winter’s full fury on the frosted forest below. “Can we take a break?” Asked Steel quietly. “Would you like to go ask our new ‘friend’ to stop?” Brass retorted. “Maybe he can show you that crossbow he’s got while you’re at it.” Steel gulped. “Just look at him.” Continued Brass. “Don’t actually look!” He clomped Steel on the head. “There’s something strange about that dog.” “Something strange?” “He’s too big, ears too long, teeth too- Sweet Celestia, did you see his teeth? Those were meat biters if I’ve ever seen them.” “How do you know so much about diamond dogs?” “I don’t. Something about him makes my skin crawl.” The pony shivered. “The way he walks, it’s not right. Diamond dogs walk on two legs; I’ve seen them. But he uses all four, prowling around like some beast looking for prey.” He was sweating profusely. “Brass, are you okay?” He relaxed slightly. “I’m fine. Keep pulling.” Brass clenched shut his eyes in frustration. This was supposed to be a simple delivery job. Now he had two incapacitated ponies in his cart, and an armed diamond dog breathing down his neck. Might as well have a griffon patrol stop them. ‘Yeah, that would be just excellent.’ “He’s gone!” Declared a startled Steel. ‘Or the diamond dog could just vanish. That works too.’ Brass wasn’t freaking out. Who would freak out in this situation? Not him. He was a calm and collected individual. This was clearly shown by the tears face leakage of bravery that streamed down his face. “Hey what’s that?” Steel pointed a hoof at the sky. Brass followed the gesture to see two small dots dive from the clouds and barrel towards the ponies. ‘Or both, because why not?’ Brass wept openly. “Hold there!” Bellowed a voice. The voice was followed by a flapping of wings. A pair of armed griffons landed in the path. Each sported a loaded crossbow. “Move back from the cart ponies!” Barked one of the griffons. The ponies did as they were told. One of the griffons began circling the cart while the other stood guard over the ponies. “And where would you two be headed?” Asked the nearest avian. His crossbow was cradled in a foreleg, ready for use. “J-Just going back home, sir.” Stammered Brass. Steel stood frozen. “What’s in the cart?” “Oh, just personal belongings.” The griffon glanced at the cart. “Looks a little big for two ponies’ things.” Brass fought down a wave of panic. “I’m also a merchant.” ‘Flawless execution.’ “What do you sell?” ‘Oh damn.’ Brass spat out the first thing he could think of. “Spoons.” He held a masterful poker-face. It was the same expression that had lost him every game of hold ‘em he’d ever played… and every mare he ever had… and gave him away every time he tried to rip one in public. “Spoons. Right. Check the cart.” Ordered the griffon. There was a grunt from behind the cart. “How’d they tie so tight with hooves, eh?” Muttered the other griffon, fumbling to open the tarp. “Just cut it open, idiot.” “I’d rather you didn’t.” Brass piped in. “You got something to hide, pony?” “No it’s just that-” Brass was interrupted by a loud ripping sound. The griffon on the cart gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of juice.” The two ponies were promptly shoved onto the ground. Talons and the tip of a bolt were pressed against their respective heads. “Looks like we caught us some smugglers.” Growled the griffon. “How much?” “At least an hundred bottles.” Came the reply. “Ow, you’re hurting my head.” Whined Steel. “Shut up!” The griffon pierced his talons into Steel’s skin. Bottles clinked as the other griffon rummaged through the cargo. “Two more in here, boss. This one’s scraped up real good, an’ this one smell like it’s been in the juice.” “Escaped criminals, no doubt.” “They have nothing to do with this.” Brass pleaded. “I said shut up, both of you!” The griffon pressed the crossbow harder, drawing a small trickle of blood. “What do we do?” Asked the other. “Long way back to camp, an’ I’m very hungry.” “You’re right. It is.” Said the griffon with a knowing grin. “Considering the penalty for smuggling is death…” “This isn’t fair!” Insisted Brass. “We’re Equestrian citizens.” “No one’s out here.” Said the griffon. “So you’re just going to kill us?” “No, I’m a merciful person. I’ll give you a chance. The first one to tell me where the diamond dog went gets to live.” “How did you-” The griffon laughed. “Been watching you for a while.” Said the one on the cart. “Got better eyes than ponies, we do.” “I’d like to leave now.” Said Steel quietly. His head was promptly ground into the frozen gravel. “And the other?” Demanded Brass. “Normally we’d just kill you, but since our rations have been reduced...” Brass’ eyes widened. Caught by a patrol AND eaten. Legit. “So what’ll it be pony?” continued the griffon. “Where’d the little doggy go?” “I don’t know. He just disappeared.” “Somehow I don’t believe you. What about you, grey one?” He directed his question to Steel. “Where’s he gone?” Steel whimpered. “I can see you’re a useless sack of shit.” Concluded the griffon “What about the females?” “Like I said, boss, this one’s half dead, an’ this one’s passed out cold.” Answered the other. The first griffon groaned. “Go into the bush and finish them off.” “Yes, boss.” The griffon on the cart, hauled the intoxicated mare onto his shoulder. The interrogator returned his attention to the two underneath him. “My offer still stands ponies. If you tell me, I may even leave the females by the roadside.” Something whizzed through the air and impacted with an organic sound. The griffon looked to see his comrade on the cart had dropped the female. The second griffon was desperately clutching at a bolt protruding from his throat. Gurgling on blood, he fell from the cart. The survivor reared, to bring his crossbow to bear on the threat. The moment his talons left the ground, a second bolt embedded itself at the base of his wing. He screeched in agony and fired his crossbow on reflex. The aimless bolt flew harmlessly. Looking up, he saw the snarling form of a black beast charging up the road. The griffon fought back the pain and pulled a short sword from its sheath. “Come on then!” He bellowed. Using his wings, the griffon launched towards the attacker, but fire burning in his shoulder caused his flight to veer sideways. He impacted the ground just meters from the canid. He swung his weapon in desperation. The dog dodged away from the short blade and past the downed griffon. Before he could recover, the griffon was gripped by large paws, and thrown backwards. He tried in vain to alter his course, but crashed back first into the wagon. Wood splintered and glass shattered. Clear liquid and blood soaked his feathers and fur. The diamond dog gave no reprieve. In a moment he was on top of the griffon. Feathers gave way to claws, as the dog dug into the griffon’s chest and raked his ribcage. With a determined screech, the griffon bucked at the dog’s gut. The blow caught the dog off-guard, and he toppled from the cart. The bleeding griffon lurched forward. He drew a dagger from a leg strap. He leapt from the cart and slashed. The blade caught the dog’s arm before he could evade. Both combatants twirled to face each other. The dog held his cut limb. The wound gushed blood, but was insignificant next to the burst dam that was the griffon’s chest. Blood pooled and steamed below the avian on the frozen road. The griffon erupted into a coughing fit. Blood soon dribbled from his beak as well. The griffon looked down at his fleeing vital juices. He was dead, and he knew it. The griffon gave one last shrill shriek, before charging his killer. The dagger stabbed, but the blade was halted. The canid held the griffon’s wrist in a vice. The dog’s opposite paw grabbed the griffon’s shoulder and dragged it down before a knee impacted the avian’s gut. The griffon staggered back on two legs. The dog drew close and seized the griffon’s slender neck. His free paw drew a bolt from the quiver tied to the griffon’s waist. With a roar, the bolt was driven through the griffon’s wide eye. The dog palmed the griffon’s small cranium and slammed it down onto the gravel, bolt first. The steel tip erupted out the back of the head, in a splatter of bone fragments and grey bits. The dog stood above his kill, panting. “Ponies.” The dog nodded, slumping back onto all fours. He used his claws to cut a piece of the tarp. The makeshift bandage was wrapped tightly around his wounded foreleg. The two equines stared at the blood stained diamond dog, mouths agape. The dog tilted his head in confusion. “The female still needs help.” Brass shook himself from the stupor. “Sweet Celestia! That was… that…” Steel finished the statement by vomiting onto the road. “The female.” Reminded the dog. “Oh, right.” Brass perked up and ran over to check on the wounded mare. He took care to step around the mess created by the dead griffons. “Well, little miss substance abuse is fine.” He clambered up into the cart. “They didn’t even get to your friend here.” “Not my friend.” Stated the dog. “Yeah, whatever.” The pony took on a look of horror when he noticed the contents of his cart. “Nonononono!” Nearly all the glass bottles had been smashed under the griffon. “I’m dead.” “The bottles are important?” Asked the dog. “A small fortune’s worth of juice just got destroyed. My boss is going to murder me.” “Ponies don’t kill.” “You don’t know my boss.” Stated Brass coldly. “You just had to throw that griffon into the cargo.” He pointed a hoof at the canid. “This is your fault.” Steel, who had now joined Brass at the cart, gasped aloud. “I’M TELLING!” “If I didn’t help, the griffons would have killed both of you.” The dog said, truthfully. Brass groaned. “So what?” he looked down at the broken glass. “It doesn’t matter now.” “Your boss will kill because of money?” The dog raised a brow. “It’s not that simple, but most likely yes.” The pony began to take inventory of the few remaining bottles. “What about running?” The dog asked. Brass cut the dog an incredulous glare. “The only things she hates more than botched jobs are traitors and deserters.” “You’re still taking the female for help?” Brass’ eyes shot open when he realized the wounded mare was still laying at his hooves. “Of course! The boss will have to wait.” He took up a mock triumphant pose. “Let it be known that Brass Trim always helps a mare in distress.” “And you’ll help me get into the town?” “I don’t like it, dog, but you’re right. The griffons would have killed us, and I wouldn’t be standing here worrying about punishment. I’ll make sure you get past the gate, but then we’re even.” The dog nodded. “That will work.” The canid and the ponies worked to clear the road of the corpses. They soon resumed their trek to the pony outpost. “Brass, I’m cold.” Declared Steel.
3 #fukhashtagsThe jerky was supremely dry and nasty, but it didn’t matter for two reasons: one, any food was good food, and more importantly, it was unnerving the ponies’ pup that stared in disgust. He took another bite, doing his best to do so noisily. “You want some, runt?” He teased. “Made with love and pony meat.” The wide-eyed pony fled screaming, in search of its parents. “Thought not.” The canid chuckled. He reclined against the log building and continued to munch. He’d need to find more food soon, and the pony-village had a predictable lack of dried meat to sell. They wouldn’t be willing to part with one of the few chickens they kept for eggs. They were penned up across the lane, watching him with their beady orange eyes, clucking and twitching. They knew he couldn’t get at them. They fecking knew! “Stupid Birds.” The dog growled softly and flipped them his middle digit. The rooster seemed to take notice. The plumed bird puffed up and looked straight at him. “WHAT DID YOU SAY NIGGA?!” Screamed the rooster. The dog did a double take. The chickens were back to pecking and scratching, and the rooster payed him no attention. He looked around to see if any ponies had noticed. Did that actually just happen? He rubbed his face with both paws and took a deep breath. ‘Don’t lose it now.’ With a squeak, the door to the wooden building flew open. The canid looked up to see a blue pony sticking his head through the door. “Got those items fixed up for you.” The pony called him over. “I wasn’t expecting you to wait here the whole time.” “Show me what you did.” Said the dog. A miniature workshop was set up inside the log house. The canid’s belongings, with the exception of the cloth wrapped tool still on his back, rested on the workbench. “I’m not a fan of working with leather, but I think the jacket will hold together nicely.” The stallion passed the dog a tired looking leather chest-piece. “I gave it a good oiling too.” The dog donned the vest, while the pony continued. “I did what I could with your bag.” The pony gave him the stained hide sack. “Oh, I did add a strap. The string you had going in its place, well… it wasn’t’ going.” The bag was slung across the dog’s back. The pony turned to retrieve the last item. “I don’t know how this horror held up before it got here.” The pony cradled the canid’s crossbow. The weapon was essentially two limbs tied together onto one stock. “Definitely one of the more interesting pieces I’ve worked with. The twine you had holding the bows together has been swapped for iron bolts.” The dog gingerly took the crossbow. What had once been jury-rigged out of desperation, was now beginning to look like a real weapon. “If I were you, I’d get a real craftspony to look at it. I mostly just fix hinges broken wagons, so my skill with weapons is rather basic.” “Thank you, pony.” The diamond dog put the weapon next to the bag. “I’m glad you like it.” The pony said, relieved. “Now I’m afraid it’s time to talk about payment.” When the dog didn’t react he continued. “I know we agreed on forty bits, but the crossbow did need more work than I predicted. So…” “How much?” The dog rumbled. “fifty-five.” Stated the pony, bluntly. “It may seem a little high, but-“ The dog dropped a sizable pile of gems onto the bench. The pony sorted through the pile. “This is more than enough, by my count.” “Keep it.” Ordered the canid, as he turned to leave with his equipment. “Don’t you need this for food or something?” The pony called after him. “No.” “Oh… well, thank you kindly.” The pony tried to supress his joy. “Hey, if you’re ever in town and you need a hinge fixed, you’ve got one on the house. Oh, I didn’t catch your name.” The dog paused halfway through the door. “Morg.” Brass waited nervously for the stallion in front of him to speak. The pony in question idly chewed gum while eyeing the diarrhea-esque bottle that sat on the desk between them. The off-white pony looked back at Brass. “You burned the rest?” He asked. “Yeah, I think I almost scorched a brow when the cart went up.” Answered Brass, rubbing the afflicted spot with a hoof. The pony leaned back in his seat and sighed. “I was hoping that wasn’t you.” “What do you mean?” “We heard the explosion clear from town.” Replied the pony. “Damn. Was it that loud?” “It gets better.” The pony continued. His flat tone betrayed his frustration. “Not only are the griffons going to find the wreck, but an Equestrian platoon showed up this morning.” “The buck do they want?” Brass was beginning to sweat. “It seems it finally occurred to their ‘majesties’ that the only town north of the mountains would be the first to go should war break out.” The pony explained with slight sarcasm. “Their CO wants to garrison Morrowwood, obviously not an option.” “So?” Asked Brass, not understanding. “So,” The stallion glared, “she’s undoubtedly going to take interest in your fireworks. The mare’s a terror of a unicorn. Almost as scary as the boss.” He leaned forward and rested his head on his hooves. “Almost as tall too.” “About the boss…” Brass fidgeted in discomfort. “She’s gonna be pissed, Brass. One out of forty-eight bottles is hardly delivering.” “I, uh… may have a solution.” Offered Brass. “As much as I doubt that, let’s hear it.” “The diamond dog that came into town with me…” The pony raised his brows slightly. “Ah, yes. The most ‘scary-ass looking dog you’d ever seen’. I think that was how you described it. Please explain why you had the guards let it in.” “He took down two griffons like it was nothing.” Exclaimed Brass. “It rescued you and you got it into town, in return.” Concluded the stallion. “And, I’m thinking, since he helped us out before, that with some persuasion he can do so again.” Brass sunk his voice into a hoarse whisper. “I don’t like it, but maybe this unicorn you talked about should… um, go missing?” He winced at his own suggestion. “Of all the things you could come up with, murder? I thought you were better than that. And how would that help anyway?” “So what can we do?” Brass was quickly feeling helpless. “Well we certainly don’t need a killer, so you can get that idea out of your head.” The pony paused, as he mulled over a new thought. “However, it’s not unlikely we’ll need some extra muscle around with the way things are going. I’ll look into this diamond dog of yours. Maybe it wants to earn a few bits as a guard.” He refocused. “As for what we can do, the current situation is out of our hooves. I’ve already sent a message to the boss.” “You did what?” Brass sat up straight. “You can relax. I left out anything regarding you and your shipment. That’s your responsibility.” Brass breathed in relief. “I think we’re finished Brass. Get you and your brother bundled up and get down through the pass before it gets closed off. Take whatever supplies you need from the storehouse.” Brass got up from his seat. “Thanks, Wett. But I might as well freeze to death instead of meeting the boss.” The mayor of Morrowwood cracked a smile for the first time that week. “That’s Mayor Wett. And the boss would probably thaw and resurrect you just to kill you slower. Hurry up now, before the unicorn gets here and starts asking questions.” Brass nodded and walked towards the door, the door that abruptly swung open to reveal Horny Michael Rosen a very tall unicorn mare. Her ebony coat was mostly concealed by a bulwark of armor and insulating layers. From under a trimmed, eggplant coloured mane, her eyes shone with all the fierceness of a gay fashion walk. “Speak of Discord…” Muttered Wett. Steel plates clinked as the mare stormed into the room, forcing Brass to back up in fright. She was flanked by two equally armored earth ponies. Her eyes rapidly shifted between the mayor, Brass, and the large bottle on the desk. For a moment there was silent tension, the only sound being produced by two mice humping in the corner. “Sergeant!” She ordered. One of the bulky ponies stepped forward. She pointed a hoof menacingly at Brass. “This stallion is under arrest on suspicion of smuggling.” “Wha…” Brass stammered as he backpedaled. He was too slow though and got rekt when the armored pony delivered a powerful spear tackle and bound brass’ legs with pretty good rope skills. Wett was smashing his head into the dense wood desk. “Put him in the town jail.” The unicorn barked to her subordinates. Brass was dragged out of the room by the earth ponies. The door handle lit up in the mare’s telekinetic grip, and the room was closed off. The mare clomped over and slipped into Brass’ vacant seat. Wett looked up. A small trickle of blood above his eye was the reward of his head-smashing. “Lieutenant Foxglove, aren’t you going to arrest me too?” The mare rolled her eyes. “No. I just needed your undivided attention.” Her fire had subsided somewhat. “So you arrest my guest?” Wett was incredulous. “He’ll get a minor fine and be set free.” She took another good look at the bottle. “Honestly, I don’t give a flying pile of manure about whatever operation you’re running here.” “Well… that’s good.” Wett’s eye’s narrowed. “Unless you’re trying to get a confession.” “In case you haven’t noticed, you have a small nation bearing down on your town.” “Pfft! Griffons,” Scoffed Wett, “although… I can’t deny they have been somewhat nosey lately.” The lieutenant pressed a hoof onto the table. “They want the pass, mayor. And sooner or later, they’re going to try and take it. For your town’s sake I need to move my unit inside the walls.” Wett scowled. “No.” “What do you mean no?” The mare’s anger flared up. “We're talking about your town's safety here.” “I’ve said it before, lieutenant. Morrowwood can handle itself. Unless you get it in writing from royalty, the military is not getting in here.” The unicorn contemplated the smaller male. “Idiot.” “I understand it may seem a bit ridiculous, but I have the situation under control.” The mare stood up. “This is absurd. It’s not as if your own personal army is going to come flying out of the clouds.” “It might.” Offered the mayor. The lieutenant snorted. “I’ll be back in a week with that warrant. You’d better hope it’s not too late.” Wett waved a hoof. “We’ll miss you.” He mocked. The mare was about to chastise the civilian, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Ma’am.” Came a male voice from the other side. “Enter.” Called the lieutenant. One of the soldiers opened the door. “There’s a situation at the north gate.” “What kind of situation?” The mare’s voice took on a slightly darker tone. “A small armed party of griffons is outside, saying something about an explosion.” “Dammit!” Wett and the mare cursed simultaneously. The lieutenant peered at Wett suspiciously. The mayor looked back, his eyes slightly wider than usual. “How about we go find out what they want?” Asked the unicorn. Ordering, more than suggesting. With the soldier following behind. The two left the office. The rat meat wasn’t much of an improvement over the jerky. But it was fresh… ish. It was actually rather unpleasant. Morg, however, was not in a position to complain. He swallowed the clammy piece of meat and adjusted his stance. He made sure to get his piss over as much wall as possible. ‘Mah’ ally, bitch’ He glanced at the emaciated wretch that cowered under some trash. The frail excuse for a canid shied away from the larger one’s gaze. The thing had tried to keep its food from Morg. This was of course unacceptable, and Morg had become the proud owner of three, now two, strips of slimy rat flesh. He didn’t fault the bony creature for trying to stop him. It was simply the way of things. The strong take, and the weak go without. Still, it was somewhat strange to find the diamond dog in such a state. The weak-willed ponies would be unable to stomach the thought of letting something starve within their own walls. Maybe they didn’t know. A new scent broke through the miasma of fresh urine. It was that grey pony again. Ponies almost all smelled very similar, however, this one stood out. It wasn’t a huge difference, but it was there all the same. Under the signature stench of sweat and hair, there was something, something wrong. It was getting stronger. It was unlikely that the pony would prove any real threat. Then again, Morg had been wrong about this kind of thing before. He looked back at the canid. Two glowing withered eyes smoldered from under a pile of junk. ‘End its pain.’ It would be easy, a quick twist of the neck. The thing would hardly survive the oncoming winter anyway. Morg looked at the meat-scraps clutched in his paw. ‘His food’ Morg’s paw began quivering with unwanted exertion. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘HIS. FOOD.’ Snarling, Morg whipped the rat meat at the frosted dirt. It landed with a splat in front of the trash pile. He stormed off, not bothering to watch shriveled paws lash out and grab the scraps. Why did he do that? Morg had every right to that food. So why couldn’t he just keep it? Why should he care if the canid lived or died? ‘Weak.’ It didn’t matter; the meat would hardly have filled his belly. He was still down to his last few chunks of emergency jerky. “Dammit.” He muttered quietly. The pony’s scent was undeniable now. Morg could easily hear hoof steps drawing near. He left the alley, only to confirm his suspicions. The grey pony he had met in the forest was trotting down the dirt road and looking around the log buildings rather frantically. “Pony.” Greeted Morg, Little emotion in his voice. Steel jumped back, wide eyed. He searched around for the source of the low voice. Morg’s golden orbs met him. “H-hi.” Stammered Steel. “How’d you sneak up like that?” Morg blinked. “Um… can you help me?” Steel was clearly upset about something. “Why?” Asked Morg. Steel sniffed. “They put Brass in the jail.” Morg gave a small huff of amusement. “Too bad. Don’t care.” “Please, Mr. Dog.” Pleaded Steel. “We just wanted to go home, but Brass got arrested by some army ponies.” “Pony soldiers, here?” Now Morg was concerned. “Yeah, they took Brass, for having that juice bottle.” Steel’s eyes were beginning to tear. “Why would they do that? The ponies here never cared about the bottles.” Morg considered the situation. The smelly liquid was apparently outlawed. If what the grey one said was true, they had only been caught once pony soldiers had arrived. That could only mean that there was something larger taking place. Interesting, but ultimately irrelevant. “Not my problem.” Morg needed to leave before more soldiers showed up. Soldiers meant horned ponies. Horned ponies meant magic. Magic meant burnt fur and broken limbs. Or he could use… 'Yes.' No, picking a fight with magic users was always a bad idea, even if he used ‘it’. “B-but, Mr. Dog.” Tears streamed from the pony’s eyes. “You have to. The griffons will come if we can’t leave.” “The griffons.” Morg had forgotten about them. Of course they would come looking for their missing patrol. And the two no-horns were witnesses. Now he had no choice. Morg sighed. “Fine.” “Wha-?” Steel, who had been on the verge of crying, looked up. “I said fine. I will help.” Steel’s mood immediately rebounded. “Oh thank you, Mr. Dog!” “Morg.” “Oh, okay Mr. Morg.” The pony then raced off towards the town center with Morg in tow. The jailhouse was a small log building, like much of the town. The door was left completely unguarded. “Where are the guards?” Asked Morg. Looking around there was not a soul to be seen. “I don’t know.” Steel was just as confused. “They were here when I left.” They approached, and, finding the door unlocked, entered. The interior was dimly lit by a lantern and what little light came in the single window. There were only a few cells in the building. Not much of a need for a jail in a town so small, thought Morg. “Oh thank Faust.” Came a voice. From the darkness of a cell. Brass stepped forward. “I didn’t think you would actually show up. So, thanks I guess.” “The griffons will come for their patrol.” Morg stated matter-of-factly. “You saw me kill them.” “Ah,” Brass deflated slightly, “that explains it. Well then, if you’re going to get me out of here jump to it. If we can’t make the pass before it freezes over, it won’t matter anyway.” “Keys.” “They are conveniently hanging on the wall behind you.” Morg turned and noticed keys conveniently hanging on the wall behind him. “Woah, how did you know?” Asked Steel, mesmerized. “Are you a psychic pony?” Both Brass and the canid both stared at Steel in amazement. “Are you serious right now?” Deadpanned Brass. “I swear you’re getting worse.” Morg grabbed the keys and unlocked the cell. The three left the jail and set off through Morrowwood. A light snow was beginning to fall. Lieutenant Foxglove marched up the dirt road, accompanied by the mayor. “I’ll do the talking. We’ll find out what they want. They’ll leave. And then you’ll tell me what the buck caused that explosion.” Foxglove instructed the mayor, who nodded in reply. Ahead of them, a small group of lightly armored griffons stood inside the town gate. They were surrounded by a handful of nervous looking guards. The few pegasai present had taken up positons on low rooftops and had their crossbows trained on the intruders. Faint conversation could be heard. “Pony, we won’t cause any trouble, just let us through so we can get what we need.” The lead griffon spoke. “No-pony moves ‘til the mayor gets here.” Ordered the guard. The griffon turned his attention to the pair that had just arrived. “What’s going on here?” Demanded the Lieutenant. Foxglove stepped through the guards to confront the griffon. Her added height put her level with the avian. The griffon took a step back. “Griffs say they’re investigating, ma’am.” Foxglove’s sergeant replied. Foxglove raised a brow at the griffon. It was the griffons’ turn to look nervous. It seemed they were unaware of a military presence. “You’re trespassing here, speak your business and leave.” Ordered Foxglove. The griffon attempted to regain some composure. “We are investigating the murder of two of ours. We believe the murderers may have fled to your village.” He explained. “Murder or not, bringing an armed party across the border is a political offense.” The griffon tried to smile. “We are but independent mercenaries.” Foxglove looked over the group. “And that’s not a Colonial emblem on her shoulder pad.” Foxglove gestured at one of the griffons. The leader wheeled in surprise. “Idiots,” He whispered rather loudly. “I told you to scrape those off!” He turned back to find an unimpressed foxglove. “This murder, where’s your evidence?” Foxglove returned to the subject. The griffon, forgetting his predicament, ordered a selection away. They returned, lugging a stretcher. A griffon was laid out, his throat covered in bandages. “Poor Geoffrey here, was minding his own business when he got shot. We found him beside the road with a bolt in his neck, barely breathing, blood everywhere.” “Did he say who attacked him?” Asked Foxglove. “Well, he tried to tell us,” At this the wounded griffon let out a pained gurgle. “But it seems the bolt damaged his speech.” “Convenient.” Noted Foxglove. “Quite.” The griffon said with a frown. “After this, we heard an explosion. Following the smoke, we found a burning wagon near your town. We extinguished the flames to find the remains of Geoffrey’s partner. It seems what wasn’t burned had been torn apart. Logically we assumed that the culprits could only come here.” Foxglove was silent for a moment. “Interesting story.” She spoke. “But I fail to see why I should let you into town.” “We wish only to search for the murderers.” “From what I gather, you don’t even know what these suspects look like, or if there is more than one.” The griffon interrupted, sneering. “Oh please. No single combatant could hope to take down two of our finest scouts.” Foxglove snorted. There was that signature arrogance. “Tell me this then. It’s clear at this point that you are not mercs. So, I would like to know what your scouts were doing in Equestrian land.” The griffon was looking uncomfortable. “I assure you that the explosion was in our territory.” “So you admit that you’re Colonial military?” Interrupted the Lieutenant. The griffon tried to retort but Foxglove continued. “You know what I think?” She began. “I think this whole thing is an excuse to get your troops into Morrowwood. Furthermore…” The griffons were not listening anymore. The entire party’s eyes were tracking the three figures crossing the street behind Foxglove. The griffon on the stretcher weakly pointed a talon, and made some nasty moist choking sounds. Foxglove turned and saw the two earth-ponies and diamond dog. “That’s them!” Shouted the lead griffon. “It has to be.” He spread his wings and was about to launch forward, but was halted by a purple magic wall. “No-pony move!” Barked Foxglove. “I’ll handle this.” Noticing they had been spotted, Brass looked calmly at the other two. “Run.” They wasted no time. Down the frosted dirt paths they fled. A dusting of snow now covered the ground. Lieutenant Foxglove pursued. She was just out of kinesis range, but gaining slowly. Whoever these idiots were, they were surely the source of the confusion at the gate. ‘Wait a minute.’ The off-gold stallion was the one from Wett’s office. How the buck did he get out? Foxglove’s horn lit up. She cast a quickening spell on her hooves. Nothing too draining, just enough to close the distance. Morg was panicking internally. Now the griffons and the soldier ponies had seen him. Better yet, a horn-pony was chasing them. He expected at any moment to have a spell tear his insides out his butthole. “Fuckin’ magicks.” He muttered. The group reached a straight stretch. The south gate was ahead of them now. “Oh what does it matter?” Cried Brass. “Even if we escape, the griffons will just fly ahead. We don’t even have any supplies to get over the pass.” They began to lose hope and speed. The exhaustion from the sudden exertion was beginning to weigh down on them. Fear forced them into a second wind as Foxglove burst from a side street, doing a schwifty little power slide across the snow-sprinkled path. Her furious glare locked onto the group. “Got you now!” She yelled. They were in kinesis range. The ponies and Morg were tripped by invisible graspers and swiftly dragged into the air. Foxglove was panting, but she had them. Everything was under control. She could give the griffons their prize. They’d probably be satisfied with the diamond dog alone. They’d leave, and she could get the town straightened out. Then her kinesis brushed against the canid’s back, or more specifically what was on it. Her magic immediately lost its grip. The three captives fell to the earth. Foxglove recoiled as a sharp pain appeared in her horn. “What the buck?” She cursed under her teeth. It was too late. The ponies and dog were on their feet. “Come on, let’s go!” said Brass. “No.” Said Morg. “Umm, hello? Being chased, need to run.” “Like you said pony, the griffons will catch us.” Morg said calmly. “So we just give up?” “I didn’t say that.” Morg allowed the shadow of a grin to cross his face. 'Yes.' “But we do this my way.” Morg whispered. The pain was receding. Foxglove refocused. “You, don’t move.” She ordered. Morg slowly rose to his hind legs and reached back, ignoring the dull ache in his spine. “I said don’t move!” With a pull, the cloth covering the object on Morg’s back fell away. It was carried off by a winter breeze. Morg now grasped a hilt. Out from the scabbard, the long thin blade emerged. The sword was gripped with both paws and pointed towards Foxglove. The lieutenant stared. It was black. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) The blade seemed to suck in the light around it. Foxglove felt a sudden urge to get as far away as possible. But she was not the type to run. The unicorn concentrated and an orange ball of flame materialized at the tip of her horn. She fixed her sights on the dog holding the evil sword. His eyes met hers. The shimmering golden irises seemed to pierce through armor and flesh alike. And, for a moment, Foxglove imagined she saw a great darkness, capable of only hatred and destruction. And it was very spooky. “Go back to whatever hell you came from!” The fireball was released. It sailed in a spiraling pattern towards Morg. The canid tightened his gaze. He slowly retracted the sword, winding up a strike. The spell was mere yards away, and Morg could feel the growing heat. Roaring, he swung with all his body. The blade made contact with the flaming orb. Rather than pass through the ball of energy, the blade redirected it as if it was solid. The fireball was now travelling back towards its caster with increased force. Foxglove barely saw it coming, and when she did it was too late. The orb impacted the unicorn. She was knocked from her hooves, backwards onto the cold ground. Brass and Steel stood, mouths agape. “Get close to me.” Ordered the canid. The ponies did as they were told. “NOW!” Shouted Morg in a voice that wasn’t quite his. The black blade was stabbed into the frozen earth. A network of glowing purple veins erupted around the sword. Morg began to carve, moving the blade around the affected soil, making unknown runes and symbols. “What are you doing?” Asked a concerned Brass. There was no reply. Morg withdrew the blade briefly before plunging it once more into the center of the magic circle. Bright purple flames leapt from the runes, consuming the three above. With a deafening thunder crack, they were gone, the runes and the beings. In their wake a small symbol of the same sickly colour was left. Then all was silent, save for the faint patter snowflakes make when they reach the ground. A set of hooves slowly made their way over to where the ponies and dog had stood. A drained and singed Lieutenant Foxglove peered at the fading symbol. It had been a long time since she had seen such magic. “So,” Came a voice from behind, “it seems you let them escape.” The griffon leader held a smug expression. “You harbor dark magic users, and refuse to let us pursue justice. My superiors will hear of this.” “Get out of my country.” Said Foxglove coldly. The griffon backed away with a mock bow. “Of course your highness. We’ll be seeing you soon.” The griffon took flight, and Foxglove was left with her thoughts. Wett was approaching with the Sergeant. “Ma’am, are you alright?” Asked the soldier. “I’m fine!” Snapped the Lieutenant. “Fetch the troops. They garrison the town tonight.” “Hold on…“ Wett tried to interrupt only to have the mare turn on him. “And you!” She barked. Foxglove took a moment to breathe. “We’re going back to your office and you’re going to tell me EVERYTHING.” “Everything?” “Everything.” “Shit.”
