That One Time When Stuff Died

The 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.”