A Night of Myth and Legends

"So who's first on the list Thorpe?" asked the grey-white mare.

"That'd be Jecht and Scopes, ma'am. They've both been tracked to this bar." replied Thorpe.

The two ponies made their way into the bar, thinking about what had led to this.

Screams that tore through the air were of stark contrast to the silent wings that carried the attackers. Any first glance anypony might assume that it was griffons attacking. That first glance would be dead wrong though.

Centuries before the Griffons drove out a subfaction of their own. While Griffons were of proud and militaristic stock, they never reveled in killing. This led to a schism with their brother species, the Hippogriffs, who enjoyed fighting and thought that they alone held the right to life. They were driven out of the continent by the Griffons and had been unheard from. This was their plan. They'd spent the past few centuries building up numbers, setting up plans, and scouting. It was all for this moment and this moment alone.

An unusually large Hippogriff strode proudly through the tangled bloodied corpses that littered the small settlement.

With a nod to a secondary Hippogriff, the two took flight and were followed by the rest of the force.

All that was left was a small camp, filled with ponies, dead and dying, all struck down by Diamond Dog spears.

Samara trotted into the bar, her grey-white coat glinting oddly in the lighting.

"That was easy, Thorpe, isn't that one of them?" Samara offered as she pointed towards the bar.

Sure enough it was one of the two they were looking for. It was a bronze coloured stallion, with a short cut dark yellow mane.

"Scopes, ma'am. Shall we go get acqainted?" questioned Thorpe.

"Obviously, you take care of him while I scout for this other one, Jecht, right?"

"Yeah Samara."

With that Samara nodded Thorpe over to Scopes while mingling through the crowd in search of Jecht.

'Hmmm? Stool on my left just shifted, volume of noise suggests it was immediatly next to me. Ah yes a sigh, there is indeed a pony next to me. Heavy breathing indicates male, hasn't ordered drink yet, waiting for somepony. Possibly here on business? Ah, breathing suggests he is about to start conversation, but with whom?'

Thorpe was looking at the the stallion, Scopes, next to him. He sat with his eyes closed, enjoying a drink.

"So, uh, nice bar eh? Hows the night, uh, going?" ventured Thorpe as he tapped the counter for a drink.

'Ahhh, speaking to me. Somepony I know, no.... hmmmmm, Nervous, attempting to broach a subject of some sorts, homosexual? *sniff sniff* No thats not it, he's not wearing the appropriate artificial pheromones to imply that. Well then I must reply.'

"Indeed, might I ask is the reason for you specifically seeking me out?" quested Scopes.

'Slight intake in breath, hit my mark quite well. Perhaps and acqaintance of somepony I've angered? No wrong approach. Must be business, otherwise this satllion would be far less formal.'

Thorpe shuffled slightly at the shrewd observation, lifted the drink he'd just been given, took a swig, and placed it back down loudly.

Scopes ears shifted and twitched with every barely audible noise.

"Ahhh yes.... the Equestrian military requires your services."

Scopes ears splayed backwards at this. 'Great, glorious even. Well I do hope they won't be too angered when I wipe the floor with this little puke.'

"Why, I ask, does the military suddenly want me back after they disowned me?" Scopes snapped as he turned the rough direction of Thorpe and opened his sightless ruined eyes. "I was merely a foot soldier, a toy, a pawn. When my vision was destroyed I became 'useless', why might they need me now!?"

"Easy there Scopes, I get it you're bitter, but there are ponies dying......"

"Ponies die every day Thorpe, I suggest you remember that, now leave before this escalates!"

Deep purple eyes followed Samara as she trotted through the bar.

'Searching, non-hostile attitude, dossier on me. Damn.'

The purple eyes followed the grey white mare as she flitted amongst the other ponies. Finally he saw her headed for a more secluded area. Setting off after her, the purple eyed form decided it was time for answers.

"Damn it, I can't find Jecht anywhere. I've looked left right and centre, but nope."

"Did you try directly behind you?" whispered a cool even voice, causing the usually steady Samara to jump slightly. Turning around she found herself face to face with Jecht. The stallion had odd wings, abnormally large, and it was composed of 14 giant slender 'feathers' as opposed to and actual wing. His eyes were a deep purple, but seemed to glow in the low lighting. White coat with a black mane and tail, blue stripe in both. This was the stallion Samara was looking for.

"Now what do you want, mare. I don't take kindly to being looked for."

"Well, straight to business then. The Equestrian military needs you for a currently classified reason and....."

"You are putting together a taskforce of ponies to deal with the massacre that was supposedly commited by Diamon Dogs. I am no fool ma'am. I know more than you think. I'll help, but only because I care for the ponies of Equestria." with that Jecht turned and started towards the front of the bar.

"Well, ok then...." Samara muttered as she followed after him.

Thorpe was hauling himself off of the floor glaring at Scopes, who'd dropped him for the second time now.

"Shall we continue this, colt? Or do you just want to go bother someone else?"

Thorpe was shaking in fury at the taunt. He'd nearly flung himself forward when a white pegasus slammed him back down, shaking his head.

"Thorpe, you're supposed to recruit him, not fight him." berated Samara.

"Ah so you've met Scopes I see." chuckled Jecht.

"He has indeed Jecht. Might I ask how you are involved in this?" inquired Scopes.

"I know that there is a threat, and so do you. I have no love for the military, but niether do you. Regardless, I know I can help. I also know you've wanted nothing more than to get back out there. We do this job, then we leave it all behind us?"

'Jecht agreeing to help, something he'd do only if no other clear choice was present. Fine, if I must.'

"Alright then Jecht. Let's go."

Jecht looked to the door and nodded towards the exit. Getting the hint Samara made her way toward the door, followed by Thorpe and Jecht, who was stepping down loudly to make it easier for Scopes to tail after them.

"Commander Screech, we have the prisoner!" the Hippogriff guards growled.

"Ahhh, yes, perfect. Bring him forward." Screech rasped.

The prisoner, grey stallion with a steel grey mane, was dragged in.

"Care to talk yet meat?" Screech threatened.

"Only if you don't mind swinging by the pub so I can give me mum a kiss, and maybe give your mum a bit more." came the Scoltish accented reply.

"Bah, I can't kill him yet. That and the fact that I'll still need him. Rip out his tongue and send him on his way!"

"Ah, but tha's no fun lad. You're mum sure won't enjoy me as much!" the Scoltlander laughed back defiantly.