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"Ok, we can do this," Peewee hobbled through the portal, smiling when a small wave of heat flowed over his beak. "Dealing with your kind should be easy given that you're friends with Ember, right?"

Spike frowned, tripping his friend. "Yea, I don't think it's gonna be that easy to convince my good friend Ember to help us out without some kind of angle attached. At least, I would be the same way if I had to be in charge of a kingdom more or less by myself and had to attend to matters mostly by myself,'' Spike sympathized with her long-time friend. It had never occurred that when she and him first met, that some things would spiral out of control in a few situations where his friends, and by extension, Twilight came and offered help to the young, inexperienced leader.

So the pair was in a constant state of owing one another.

''Well, say you can't work stuff out like friends, what do you think would a reasonable favor for her to ask you? I mean, you've studied your kind enough to know how they operate.'' Peewee said, his limp beginning to fix itself as he started to walk straight. ''Either that or we owe her one giant IOU.''

Spike and his pet walked what seemed like miles until they came upon the giant, spiked gates of the Dragon Outlands. Even though he has barely been here enough to constitute a sense of direction, he also found the look of a colosseum to be a homage to the old times and a bit inefficient in some parts. He always found the sight the one giant, aged dragon known as the Opposer to be a small intimidation factor, seeing as he's protected this inner circle of the Outlands for over 2 millennia. The clay red ground was scorched, tiny plants barely surviving for a drop of water as the pair came into contact with two guards, dress in very light blue armour covering the neck, lower torso, back of the knees and and wrists with simple fur tarps for hoods.

''State your business!'' one guard stated, the contortion of his square snout and triangular shapes head showing as a bit of spit flew from his mouth, hitting Peewee on the beak. ''Why have you come here?''

''That's strike one,'' Peewee said to himself, cleaning it off. ''Don't cause a scene. . .'' Peewee just stared into his cold, green eyes, scheming.

''We are here because we are here to request an audience with Queen Ember,'' Spike said, stretching his legs. ''It is pretty important.''

''The going toll rate to go in is 100 bits,'' the second guard said, her slim frame and dull red scales reflecting a bit of the sunlight as she shifted her spear towards the pair.

''Wha?'' the pair asked. ''Why?''

''Cause I don't like you, Crystal Champion,'' the female gestured to Spike with her spear. ''I know you have no honor, so you might as well pay then to use what you think you can call influence for a free ride into our home.''

"I'm a Dragon, too," Spike said, sour at the her comment.

"Barely." Spike frowned at her uncaring tone.

"I can breathe fire."

"So does an oven, your point?" this guard refused to give Spike any ground.

"I'm Crystal Champion, that's something." Spike said.

"Oh wow, they gave you a trophy for having a head bigger then a watermelon and harder then this ass-whupping you're about to get if you don't try and convince me sooner," the other guard looked over in suprise almost as if he wanted to record this.

He should.

"I have a pet Phoenix, they're rare, how about that?" Pewee and Spike stuck their tongues out.

"I would say they're about as common as you, but I'm glad we don't have walking bags of mood swings and a basketball," the guard readied her spear. "Last chance."

Spike had to think of something. He can't take this standing up, well, he's more so barely standing cause how short he is.

Think. . .think. . .

Because Pewee can't think to save his life, even though he's. . . you get the joke.

"Hmm. . ." Spike thought out loud. Then it hit him. This would be bold, on so many levels, but if there's one thing that almost all Dragons are known for, it's roasting others.

He had to get this right.

Walking up to the guard, pushing the spear past, he spoke. "You mind telling me your name? I'm just curious."

"I guess there's no harm in that," the guard spoke. Maybe he wanted to apologise for being a failure. Seems legit.

'That's what you think. I'm about to end your entire career.'

Pewee and the other guard watched intently.

"Jaszhin," the dragon guard spoke, waiting for her apology. "Why?"

"Well, I'm just shooting shots in the dark but, are you an orphan by chance?" Spike asked.

"Yea, like most hatchlings are, especially if you're born in the Rava district." Jaszhin said.

"Well, your mother should have spit you out," Spike plainly said, everyone, even The Opposer, who wasn't that far but was very much interested.

"Hmm, wow." he nodded his humongous head. "That'll do it."

"Dang, Spike, I didn't know you could be that cold." Peewee said. But Spike was not done.

"How are you the literal fusion of a combat boot? I bet Everytime you walk, all you hear is Hut 1, 2, 3, 4!" Spike slapped a knee in laughter.

"Well, you look like+"

"Hold on, don't try to deflect. I'm talking to you now, I ain't done done with you yet," Spike quieted her down. "Suprised you can't sit still and be quiet long enough to let me speak. Why is it I feel like when you laugh, it's not even laughter, it's like a cheese grater against some rocks."

. . .Well damn.

"Uh, I think she's good, now; she's turning red, now I don't know if that's from shame or embarrassment or what, but I still have to deal with her when you guys leave. . .so. . ." the other guard said, in somewhat of a pleading tone.

Fine.

"Fine, fine, we'll go, I'm sure I've earned my way in after that little show," Spike and Peewee went forward, looking to see the gate come up as they proceeded in, but not without one last comment. "Don't quit your day job, we need soliders like you who can turn anything to stone."

"Curse you, Cyrstal Champion!~"

Author's Note

Welcome back to the foolery.

Alright, 'nuff said. Proceed.