Claw, Hoof, and Feather

by Snow123

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Alternate Universe
Length: 8770

Another one of those "Chess Game of the Gods" fics.

A youth, fairly content with his monotonous and uneventful life, is approached by a strange man in a coffee shop and given a certain offer. He turns it down, but apparently "No" was not an option.

Takes place in the "Chess Game of the Gods" universe.

Rated for language. Rating and Genre may change according to added chapters.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-09 18:01:01 UTC

Encountering Chaos

Claw, Hoof, and Feather

Encountering Chaos

They call me Birdie.

I have no recollection of my old name, but those I serve choose to call me the "Pony-Bird", and my fellows in the mines call me "Birdie".  I know how silly the name sounds, but it isn't an insult.  Really, it's the only bit of present-day identity I have, now.  Don't get me wrong, I can remember some things about my old life, about what I once was, but the details persist to escape me. I have no real name, no faces to go on, no recollection of whether I was only child or if I was one of many. I just have enough personal memories to have a sense of identity, my instincts and my old education to drive me, and my fear of death keeping me complacent in my current setting.

Let me be clear on something… I am no hero who can rouse others with an inspiring speech, some creature with super abilities, to my knowledge, or a Messiah.  I am a pawn, a simple slave, a worker so that I may live another day on the few scraps I am given.

Equestria truly is a wonderful place… if you are either a pony or one of a select few griffins and zebras, that is. The rest of us –I've been here so long that I consider myself "part of the herd"- are not so fortunate. As it turns out, Equestria is one of many countries, not a planet as I had originally thought. The land of Equestria was a utopia for ponies and relatively friendly to outsiders, depending on location, but outside the borders, we live in misery.

I am Birdie.  I was once human, but no longer.

I will tell you how I came to be here, a slave to the Diamond Dogs.

--

The details of exactly how I got to the land of ponies could not be anymore cliché if I tried. Go on, just guess what happened. Guess! No, better, I'll give you a not-so-detailed checklist.

The meeting takes place in a public setting with no one looking at the two oddballs talking about ponies in public? Check.

An odd-looking man with a brown buzz cut and a white goatee in clothing that must have been intentionally mismatched walks to me and starts a conversation about those very ponies, which I participate in? Check.

The offer to go to Equestria comes up? Check.

My answer to the man was a simple and resounding “No”, followed by an explanation of why I gave said answer, presenting an attempt at logic and my obvious skepticism of the proposal.  It just wasn't possible, and even if I could, why would I?  My life was decent.  Don’t get me wrong, I like the show and even found it better than a majority of the things I’ve seen on TV, but I didn’t think it was the best thing out there.  Even I had my limits toward the cuteness of it all.

Anyway, to get back on topic, the odd man responded with something I had not expected, something that, for all I’ve read in fan-fictions, was usually never written or typed up.

He had smirked, told me "Too bad!", and then he kicked me from under the table, straight between the legs.  With a bright flash of light, I had blacked out, whether from the pain of the kick or the magic involved I cannot be sure.

One thing was sure, though.  I woke up in your classic, run-of-the-mill forest, sore and ticked off!

When my mind caught up to the fact that I was now in Equestria, away from my friends and family, I lost it.  I had raged, I had bucked, I had screeched out to the heavens in fury!  Now, my own odd, feral behavior had failed to catch up with me at the time, as did that fact that I was walking on all fours, sounded like a bird, and couldn’t feel my toes.

Chilling laughter broke me out of my rage, quickly simmering it down as my eyes went wide.  The gears began turning in my head as that rage gave way to chilling dread and fear.

I was brought here in a flash of white light.

The guy whom sent me here intentionally dressed in mismatched clothes.

That same guy had a brown buzz cut and a white goatee.

Who else in the lore of Friendship is Magic shared those traits, exactly?

…

… Processing…

…

… Processed.

… Panic now, curse at self for stupidity later.

“FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUU-!!!”

The next thing I knew, a zipper had formed upon my mouth, sealing it shut as that chilling laughter became an amused chuckle.  “Oh, such language,” the Spirit of Chaos spoke with a tone of purest, vilest charisma as he flowed into existence right in front of me, waving a digit from his lion paw in a “naughty naughty” gesture.

You know those drawings of a “realistic” version of Discord that are around?  Yeah, they were very close to the mark, even with the spirit of chaos still having that overall cartoonish look.  He was absolutely terrifying, grinning at me with teeth that looked like a jigsaw puzzle of fangs and flats!

I gulped as well as I could, given that my mouth was literally zipped shut by a playful spirit who could probably just as easily erase me from existence as he had brought me here in the first place.  With my new limbs, I quickly tried backing away from the amalgam of assorted creatures.

Apparently, Discord wasn’t going to let me go.  He snapped his fingers, and with that, a large, cubic mass I would look down at to identify as jello had engulfed all but my head.

“Tut, tut, tut,” Discord closed his eyes and mockingly shook his head.  “No need to run.”  That pseudo-frown soon reverses itself into a true smirk.  “Think of this as a game.”

I could only watch as he slithered through the air and to my side.  “Oh, you won’t be as much fun as the others, but…”  I saw and felt a talon from his eagle claw press to my forehead.  “You can be my ‘anchor’.  Otherwise, the fun will end if,” he chuckled dismissively, clearly finding whatever he was about to go on about funny, “what happens in that show does indeed happen to me, and I can’t have that, unlikely or not.”  He chuckled with mirth.  “That aside, let’s just say we’ll be in touch.”

With that, shocking pain shot through my body as I felt Discord invade it with his twisted magic.

Once again, I ended up blacking out.

--

“Wait, wait, back up,” a large blue unicorn stallion with a dark mane spoke out, halting the tale, “You expect us to believe that Discord, THE Discord, brought you here from some alternate world as some ‘game’ for his entertainment, and then he cast some odd spell on you?  Do… do you have any idea how insane and stupid that sounds, Birdie?!”

The named storyteller stared at the unicorn, and then he looked to the others around him, Ponies, weaker Diamond Dogs, and Griffons alike.  Then, in the face of all those flat and disbelieving looks… he cackled, laughing as he leaned back against the stone wall of their dark and dank living quarters.

"It sounds very stupid and extremely insane," the eagle-headed quadruped responded to the question, sitting back on his rump. "But then again, it's Discord. Some suspension of disbelief is needed, Cobbler." His grin became a frown as those around him did appear to think about how, in this case, making no sense was the only sensible thing as far as Discord was concerned, and then Birdie sighed. "Besides, I think my presence was just an afterthought on his part..."

"… An afterthought?"

"Well, I think that NOW," Birdie went on. "I mean... he did tell me himself that he wouldn't get much entertainment from me, but he could have just as easily lied.”

Cobbler just responded to the statement with a flat stare, before sighing.  “Fine.  Continue your story.”

The beak curved into a smile as Birdie nodded his head.  “Thanks.”

--

When I awoke once again, I was, for all intent and purpose, completely alone, bathed in the light of a setting sun.  I waited for what I estimate to be five minutes before I even dared to try getting up and moving.  After all, Discord could have been anywhere.

Still, feeling as secure as I could under the given circumstances, I went on to give myself the standard “new world physical examination”.  With the dark-brown feathers –with a slight green tinge, I noticed- and the eagle claws, I had initially believed myself to be a griffin, a predator.  It didn’t seem so bad, so what had been the big deal?

Then I had looked further south… to see the pastel green rump of a horse, or rather, a pony, without a Cutie Mark –thank goodness, ‘cause I didn’t want to feel branded—and with hairs that greatly resembled moth antennae, like feathers and tail hair had blended into one.  The fluff made me think of a certain pink pony.

I wasn’t a griffon… but… I think I was a hippogryph.  What is a hippogryph?  It’s the supposed result of a mare and a male griffin getting together, at least according to some sources.  Other sources, like J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, seemed to identify them as a separate species entirely.  I didn’t dwell too far on it.

Still, I wasn’t willing to believe what I was seeing –stupid me, right?—until after I plucked a feather from my head, just out of curiosity.  I felt my ears –I had pony ears!—flick as I winced from the loss of the feather, which turned out of be a vibrant green hue, much like my hindquarters.

So, I was, physically, a blend of some green pony and a bald eagle…  I was torn between thinking this was awesome, wanting to scream out in panic because this wasn’t MY body, and…

Wait… what did I used to look like, anyway?  I… I couldn’t remember…

Realization about my lack of specific memory dawned on me… and hung my head in my following sorrow, letting it set in that, as much as I wanted to cry, to rage, to curl up into a ball and die because I was now separated from my family… I couldn’t care.  I wanted to care, but Discord… had done something to me.  The memories were THERE, yes, but… there were no names, no faces, and no connections, and everything seemed so… muted.  The only things I could recall the names and faces of were from shows I watched and the manga I used to read.  JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Dragon Ball, Transformers, Friendship is Magic, Foster’s, and many more were all available in my mind... but those were all -aside from Friendship is Magic, apparently- fiction.

Discord, you are a truly evil, trolling bastard.

“Heheheheheh…”

Wait, was that… him?  I looked around quickly, but saw no sign of the lord of all things chaotic.  I gulped.  Hopefully I imagined it.

Hopefully.

With a sigh and a click of my new beak, I decided to get to work on becoming used to my four-legged body.  I’ve read stories in which it was always ridiculously difficult, but I recalled crawling on all fours as a kid just for fun, so I wasn’t too concerned…  The new tail and wings, however, DID concern me.  Sure, the tail kept my balance, but I wasn’t used to having one…  It was like having a tiny, stubby arm coming out just above my backside, and the hairs were all fuzzy wires.  Just… ugh.

The wings looked cool, but could I even bring myself to use them?  I usually wasn’t good with heights.

Slowly, I unfolded my dark, green-tipped wings to get a good look… and promptly gasped.  I had half-expected to have just plain old Pegasus wings, but these were, indeed, still the wide wings of a predatory bird, and they actually looked like they could physically keep my body aloft in the air without magical assistance.

Some foolish, immature part of me temporarily forgot my plight, forgot that I no longer had a name to call my own, that this body was foreign to me, that I was going to likely have a very tough time, and finally, that I was scared of extreme heights.

Then I verbalized my thoughts in a single word.

“Awesome.”

It was time to get in some practice.

Test and Fail

Claw, Hoof, and Feather

Test and Fail

“Next comes the funny part,” Cobbler spoke out, having heard much of this tale beforehand, with a grin.  “Birdie’s a failure at flying.”

The hippogryph sent the blue unicorn a flat, harsh look, flexing a claw as the pegasi and griffins let out weak chuckles around him, before pausing.  “… You know what?”  He lowered the limb back to the stone floor, his talons clicking against the hard surface.  “Screw it.”  After a shake of his head, the viridian avian-equine turned to look at the other slaves, tapping the stone floor with a click-clack-click-clack as he remembered his… trial run.

Well, since Cobbler had brought it up...  "Indeed.  I'm... an epic failure..."

--

How in the world did birds make this look so damn easy?!

That was a question I asked myself in frustration after my twenty-first failed take off from the ground into the air.  I didn’t know what or how, but I kept doing something wrong!  I flapped wings too fast like a bug, I jumped too soon, I flapped too slow and jumped, or didn’t have those positioned just right, and so on.  My crashes… well, I feel it’s a miracle I didn’t break a few bones.

The first time, I didn’t actually crash; however, I did have to bring myself to a stop.  The other times… tree, rock, dirt, same tree, different tree, talons got stuck in a third tree, beak in the dirt, etc.  It was a mess…

Stop laughing!  You try waking up in a body with extra appendages you’re not used to!  This was not easy!

I swear I think Discord himself was spying on me, or something along those lines, because after my fifth crash, I could hear that damn voice chuckling at my failures.

Oh, but I didn’t dare try to verbally curse out the spirit of chaos, just in case he really was around.  I was frustrated, not a suicidal fool.  Nope, just kept the fury to myself and bottled it up, like I usually do.

After attempt twenty-seven, I decided to finally stop, just walk it out, and look for a meal.  This… was bad.  I was a winged creature with no knowledge of how to fly.  I was essentially Equestria’s equivalent to an ostrich!  A bucking ostrich!

My thoughts continued to dwell on that plight as I scanned for my meal.  How was I going to survive, I wondered, if I couldn’t hunt properly?  I was part bird of prey, wasn’t I?  I was supposed to look down upon my unsuspecting victim, dive, and start tearing into its hide with my claws and savoring the coppery taste of blood and raw meat on my tongue.

… Wow, that was probably natural for what I was now, but coming from me, a guy whom prided himself on being “humane”, that was… pretty dark.  I shuddered in disgust with myself as I kept walking, resolving to make my first kill painless for the victim animal, or at least trying to.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.  My eyes spotted a certain something a few yards away.  It was a simple rabbit, brown in color with a white tail, eating all alone by the trunk of a relatively thin tree.

I slowed my walk and lowered my belly to the ground, hiding in a patch of tall green grass like I had seen my old cat do when he had been hunting.  Considering my hindquarters were that of a pony, not a cat of any sort, it was pretty uncomfortable.

I decided to wait it out, all the same, never tearing my gaze away from the rodent.  All the little fur ball had to do was turn away, and an early-morning snack would be mine.

It turned at last, and I leaped, letting out a wild screech as I came down upon the rabbit…

"WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

It didn’t taste like I thought I would, and the texture felt like… dirt… and grass…  I then blinked in realization of just was wrong.  'Wait a bucking minute!'

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” I spoke with my mouth of earth, so it came out more muffled.

I looked up and sure enough, the rabbit was dashing away from me, that white tail it had seeming to mock me.  With an annoyed chirp, I spat out the dirt, mud, and grass, and then I gave chase.  Looks like I would have to run for my meal.

I hated running.  I hated it so very much.  I wasn’t mad with hunger or anything so cliché, don’t get me wrong.  In truth, I was extremely lazy before being sent to Equestria, one of those jerks who would sit around all day after a meal, just watching what we called TV or reading a good book.  “Conserving energy”, you know?

… Okay, from how I’m describing myself in this, you wouldn’t get that impression, would you?  I wouldn’t either if I was in your place, but common sense won me over that day.  I could no longer afford to be such a couch potato.  Equestria was a foreign location to me, show or no show, and if I was to survive, I had to force myself into action.

In less “eloquent” words: I just wanted a quick breakfast, damn it!

...  Well, I hadn’t meant for the “quick” part to be so literal.  Damn rodent.

My hooves and claws tore into the soft soil  of the forest floor as I dashed after the rabbit.  While I was used to walking on all fours, running was an entirely different story.  A couple of times I even stumbled, causing the gap between me and little morsel to widen even more.

But soon enough, I began to get into the groove of galloping, and I also began to realize an advantage of my new body.

I was lazy, dare a say a bit overweight in the past, but that damned spirit of chaos had crafted my new body to what I hoped and assumed was the standard in-shape build of a hippogryph.  I was fast, and I had not given out in exhaustion yet!

Paranoia deemed for me to be suspicious of this, but buck it, I couldn’t care less now!  Breakfast!  Was!  MINE!!

I pounced, and in a manner I cannot describe due to children being present, I devoured the rabbit for what little meat it had, leaving only the bones.

Still, after doing so, I noted the peculiar aftertaste on my tongue.  It was gamey, yet foul.  I hadn’t taken the time to savor any flavor the poor rabbit had, you see.  I was too excited at finally catching it.

It was only ten minutes later, estimated, not second for second, as I was walking, that I began to feel the stomach pains set in.  I only winced, at first, thinking it would pass, but as time wore on, as I walked further through the forest, the pain in my belly only grew, and a wince gradually became an expression of misery.

Finally, after what I thought was a grand total of thirty minutes after my meal, my stomach gave out… and I had to let go of my breakfast… all over the ground.

It hurt.

No, scratch that, it was agony!  My stomach felt like it was on fire, and after I had vomited up my meal, I began writhing, struggling to stay standing after my stomach had nearly pumped itself empty.

Upon looking back down and seeing the not-so-digested remains of that poor rabbit, I resumed vomiting.

After I had finally stopped, I turned away and resumed walking through the jungle, on the hunt for a meal again.  If anything can be said of what had just happened, I was able to put two and two together and figure out “Why?” of my stomach issues.  Really, it made sense when I thought about it.  He was still part pony in body, even with the bird-like features.  My stomach couldn’t handle meat.

Hippogryphs may have the beaks of birds of prey, but they’re actually…

--

“Herbivores,” was the single word that greeted Birdie as he was about to say it, spoken by some of the fellow slaves around him at once.

“Yeah,” that blue unicorn spoke, “hippogryph diets aren’t really new to us, Birdie.  You don’t need to go into detail on that.”

The hippogryph palmed his beak.  “I should have known that was common knowledge.”  His lemon yellow eyes went up to the blue unicorn again.  “So, may I continue, everyone, Cobbler?”  He received nods in return.  “Now, a while after that incident, I—“

“Hey!” a gravely, high-pitched voice interrupted before Birdie could resume the story, drawing attention toward the entrance of the cramped living space of the slaves.  “Rest is over!  Time to work!”  It was one of the larger, armor-clad Diamond Dogs, one whom looked like a Tibetan Mastiff.  He was big and fluffy, black and brown, and he was likely to have a set of jaws like a bear trap.

Birdie would always inwardly call this guard “Max”.  The way he carried himself –along with him being a Tibetan Mastiff—reminded him of that early nineties semi-horror film.

The hippogryph kind of regretted starting his tale, being unable to keep his beak shut.  If he hadn’t gone into his story, then everyone could have been resting instead of listening to him ramble.  Lord knew they all needed it to avoid collapsing in the middle of work and suffering punishment.

Everyone, Birdie included, let out groans, but with no other alternative to their plight, they all stood up and exited their living quarters, heading through the stone and dirt tunnels and each standing in a line to let the strong Diamond Dogs strap them into their slave and digging gear.

Birdie, in particular, ended up equipped with a special set of claw coverings, crafted out of diamond for the purpose of carving into stone, yet unicorn-enchanted –Birdie did not want to know what sick-minded unicorn decided to assist Diamond Dogs with slavery—to never allow the piercing of flesh.  Then, to prevent him from biting, the Dogs strapped an uncomfortably tight leather muzzle onto his beak, keeping it closed.  Finally, those canines checked the harness that kept Birdie’s wings folded against his body, and then they dragged him off to his assigned position in the tunnels.

“No slacking, Bird-Pony,” the one he had dubbed “Max” commanded of the green hippogryph, threateningly holding up a whip made of chain links.

With nothing else to do and under penalty of being whipped or hit by one of the guards for “laziness”, Birdie set to work on the wall, carving into it with the special coverings.  A harsh sound, like a lower-pitched ‘nails-on-chalkboard’ effect, began to echo throughout the tunnels, followed by many similar sounds of different pitches as every slave began to dig for the precious gems.

On and on he dug into the cavern wall, scraping and shoveling, putting any gems he found into a nearby cart quickly before he resumed his forced duties.

Then a voice Birdie hated, within reason, sounded out... within his head.

“This is boring.”

Birdie narrowed his eyes, deciding to not give that voice a response.

“Where’s the chaos, the rebellion?”

Just hold it in, don’t give it satisfaction.

“Come on, lazy bird,” that accursed voice went on, a smirk envisioned in the green hippogryph’s mind.  “Entertain me.”

‘Shut up,’ he answered in his head toward the owner of the voice, caving in.  ‘Leave me alone.’

“He responds at last!” was the mocking response.  “All silliness aside, do you really intend to remain a slave, my little camera?”

Yep, the hippogryph was being trolled in some manner.  ‘What does it matter to you?’ Birdie shot back. ‘You’re why I’m here in the first place!’

“You’re in the land of ‘sunshine and daisies’ because of me,” Discord responded through their link, “perhaps.  But that’s all I did, bird-brain.  You are the one who never fights or struggles, finding it easier to just take all the abuse.  Ironic, given your old life, is it not?”  A chuckle followed.

‘Again, why does it matter what a lowly mortal does with his life?’

“Your life itself is of no concern,” the draconequus went on, “but I, on the other claw, am trapped in a statue and have to choose either looking at walls of the royal hedge maze or gazing through your eyes.  Quite frankly, I think the maze more entertaining at this point.”

‘Then go look at the walls!’ Birdie responded.  ‘I’m not your toy!’

“Oh, but you are my toy, my little hippogryph.”  With that, Discord’s voice seemed to depart from Birdie’s mind with an insidious chortle.  “You are definitely my toy…”

Birdie let out an annoyed huff, unable to sigh because of the muzzle.  He knew that Discord, as much as he loathed the chaotic spirit, had a point, that he shouldn’t just sit around where he was and actually try to do something… but Birdie didn’t see the point if the odds were out of his favor.

Why try something that was likely to only lead him and others to death and only had a very slim chance of working?  Why take that chance?

“Why not?”

‘Damn it, you bucking dragon-pony-thing!’

Still, it was a thought provoking question.  “Why not?”, indeed.

SMACK!

Birdie let out a squawk of pain, feeling the chains of the whip bite his backside, right above his poofy dark-green tail.  Damn, he must have nodded off and slowed down!

“I said no slacking!” “Max” spoke out gruffly.

He nodded quickly and picked the pace back up.  The more he worked, the less he was whipped.  Still, he could hear the cracks of whips and the screams of slaves all around him.  The worst part?

He had grown far too used to those sounds.

--

Author’s Note:  So, yeah… I see those pointers heading for the thumbs-down buttons and cries of "Mary-Sue Crap!" on the way, but I'm not wanting to make Birdie into a Mary-Sue or overpowered character for the setting.  Birdie is dull and is a scaredy-cat.  That’s about it, but part of the goal of setting him apart from other CGotG protagonists.  Every Chess Game story has a character coping with their situation in some way, and that’s what Birdie’s trying to do… but he’s not really coping, is he?  He’s internally running from his problems by just allowing them to happen and being too afraid of bigger negative consequences to do a thing about them.  He’s an over-analytical wimp, when the chips are down, but that has room to change..

What's worse, I'm worried I made Discord out-of character.  Oh, I so hope I didn't!

I tried to avoid making it so generic again while avoiding some clichés, aside from the obvious HiE plot, but… I can see this chapter oozes with plainness.  Sorry.  One could say I ‘failed’ to live up to great expectations.  Also, I apologize if changing perspective between 'past' and 'present' confuses anyone.

Please, you know the drill, read and review, giving constructive criticism to help me make this NOT suck.

Thoughts of a Unicorn

Claw, Hoof, and Feather

Thoughts of a Unicorn

All the slaves felt their bodies ache from the work and whip strikes of the day as they trudged back to their sleeping quarters, their muscles burning from overuse, and their hearts and heads even more tired than before.

Birdie’s regret for starting that story was shared by many, as they had chosen to listen to it instead of getting some rest –what little they were allowed to have—for another day of hard labor.  Cobbler was among them in that regard, feeling stupid since he had already heard and experienced much of the tale.  The blue unicorn let out a wince as he sat upon the cold stone floor, his body especially sore with the very recent cut in his side that had scabbed over.  Slowly, he brought his brown eyes up to gaze at the last one to enter the cramped sleep space, or rather, to be dragged in by the Diamond Dogs.

Once again, it appeared Birdie had collapsed from exhaustion at the end of his shift, or at least that was how it seemed to Cobbler.  It usually happened every other day, because of the sad fact that the green hippogryph was not used to such harsh conditions, even compared to the other slaves.

From what Cobbler had seen, that particular hippogryph was not built for either straight-up combat or hard manual labor.  He was smaller than an average-sized adult griffin, even if larger than the average pony, and his build was more akin to a Pegasus, not an Earth Pony or a Unicorn, the more practical slaves for heavy labor.

It was all so troublesome, having to watch out for Birdie.  From the day they met, he had been quite a burden…

--

It was just another day for me until you came along, wasn’t it, Birdie?  I was just minding my own business at Roan’s edge, gazing out into the forest… and then I saw you break through the tree line.

I thought of you, at the time, as a strange, if not hideous, green monstrosity.  From the distance I first saw you standing at, you were covered in grime, your feathers out of place, and so forth.

The smell of dried vomit when you got close had not helped either…

So, yeah, I decided to take you in for a bath, because I’m a nice stallion like that.  Sure, I knew that Roan was a tense town in terms of racial relations, being so close to the border between Equestria and Gem Fido, but you were just so filthy and looked as if you were starving –though I can’t imagine why, considering all the greenery around you—for a meal.

I dared not to touch you physically, though.  Again, you were just so filthy, too much so for me.  That’s why I had magic.

Oh, you had squawked and struggled when the orange aura of my levitation spell surrounded you and forced you up into the air, but I had not cared.  In fact, I daresay I had found it hilarious.

“You, sir, need a bath.”

With those words, I had clamped your beak shut before you could let out another single syllable of protest, and then I carried you off into town.

Oh, if only I had thought about just how badly the townsfolk would take your presence, otherwise I would have been more discreet and hidden you away.  I should have realized taking you into town was a bad idea from the start, especially with the looks of scorn the other Unicorns and the Earth Ponies were sending our way as I carried you.

So I guess it’s as much my fault as it is yours that we’re both trapped in slavery.

Still, once I had you inside my home, I immediately set to work filling up the tub with hot water and dunking you head first into it.  I could not help but to grin in the face of your unease and sputtering.

“Now, now,” I had chastised, “don’t struggle.  Your coat is extremely filthy.”  I had levitated the soap and brush with my magic as well, still keeping you pinned with your beak shut and only your head above the water.

Now, I’m not ashamed to admit that I was one of the most arrogant and snobbish unicorns you would ever meet, my friend. I was proud of it, in fact, just as I was proud of myself for making you squirm as I scrubbed every speck of dirt away.  It was good times, Birdie.  Good times.

Still, once you were clean, I had finally allowed you to tell your story.  Truth be told, I still have trouble believing Discord plucked you out of some random café in some ape-ruled dimension and inserted you into Equestria.  Not even Daring Do herself had described such a mad idea in her books.

Still, I offered food and lodging, and you had gratefully taken it, even offering to pay me back once you had employment.

So, just to be friendly, I took you out to eat at one of the restaurants… and of course, what do you know what happened.

We were drugged by our drinks, strapped up so we couldn’t escape, and finally imprisoned, waiting for the next time the Diamond Dogs came through Roan so we could be carted off north toward Gem Fido.

And all the while, I wanted to blame you for appearing, for turning my life onto its head and making my family and friends betray me… but I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t blame you for things that were not your fault.  You didn’t drug me.  You didn’t decide to go into town with me.  You didn’t mean a single bit of harm… and my fellow ponies in Roan could not see past their racial paranoia.  You had even apologized as you had put together why we had been carted off.

In one fell swoop, you had gone from being some soul I took a bit of pity on to my only friend in the world.

It’s kind of hard to blame a guy whom doesn’t have a real name, anyway.  I mean, really?  You were so content with the abridged moniker you were going by in these mines, “Bird-Pony”, “Birdie”, and so forth?  You looked more like a “Key Lime” or a "Lime Sorbet" to me… but yeah, those are pony names.

--

Finished with his reminiscing and self-exposition, Cobbler watched as the exhausted hippogryph had been literally tossed into the room, landing harshly on his strapped wings and letting out a weak squawk. Slowly, the blue unicorn inched over and lay beside Birdie, back to back.  “Hey, pal,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb the other exhausted slaves.

With a slight groan, Birdie opened one eye.  “Evening, Blueberry…”

“Blueberry” was the first half of Cobbler’s name and as far as Cobbler had always been concerned, quite embarrassing for a stallion.

“…”  Cobbler sighed.  “I won’t beat around the bush, Birdie…  You’re weak.”

That lemon yellow eye gazed directly at the unicorn.  “And that’s news?” he asked with pained sarcasm.

“No, Birdie, I mean you’re really weak,” the blue unicorn responded, still in a whisper.  “You can’t keep up the slave’s pace much longer.”

“… I know…” the viridian hippogryph responded.  “But what else can I do, Cobbler, escape?  That’s nearly suicide.”

“Nearly,” Cobbler responded with emphasis.  "And so is staying here, for you."

“… You can’t be serious, Cobbler.  You can’t be…”  With a slight groan, Birdie pushed himself up to sit on his haunches and gaze at his friend with clear disbelief.

“Of course I am.  I’ve been thinking about this for about a week.  What do we have to lose?” Cobbler responded harshly.  “Really think about it, Birdie.  We’re both alone, and even in the couple of months we’ve been here these other slaves are relative strangers.  If we can stage a revolt, you and I can bust out of here, or at least one of us can get out.”

“… And you called me crazy when I first told you about Discord bringing me here,” the viridian hippogryph responded with a shake of his head.

“Discord is one thing.  Rotting in slavery is another,” the blue unicorn responded.

“… Could that line be anymore cliché?”

“Look, Birdie, do you want to get out of here or not?”

“… Yes,” Birdie hesitated, “I want to get out of here… but are you sure we can’t try getting the others out as well?”

“Two slaves won’t matter too much, at least in terms of chasing us once we’re out of the tunnels.  If we literally do attempt to take all of them with us, they won’t stop hunting our tails even for a minute.”

“Damn it,” the hippogriff responded, hanging his head.

“Hey, hey, chin up,” Cobbler responded, lifting up Birdie’s head by his beak.  “Look, if it makes you feel better, and as stupid as the idea is, someday we’ll come back and free them, alright?”

“… Okay…” Birdie responded somberly, clearly not truly convinced.

“Birdie, look at me you naive idiot,” the blue unicorn commanded.  “I promise you that we will return here and free them, you got that?”

“Got it,” Birdie responded immediately, nodding his green-feathered head at the so-called promise.  Had he really been convinced?  The blue unicorn was not so sure.

“Great,” Cobbler smiled, patting Birdie’s left shoulder blade with his right hoof.  “Now, get some rest.  I’ll set up the final preparations before the end of the week.”

The hippogryph nodded and lay back down beside him… and ever so slowly, he finally began to drift off into the land of dreams.

Blueberry Cobbler watched his friend with those dark brown eyes, before turning away slightly, once again laying back to back with the hippogryph.

“We’re going to get out of here, pal.  I will make sure of it.”

--

AN:  Yeah, it’s a crappy exposition chapter, this time told more from the view of the blue unicorn known as Blueberry Cobbler, not Birdie.  Sorry.

But yes, that’s how Birdie and his friend I kept mentioning got to being a pair of slaves.  It wasn’t in some grand defeat after a battle, or a magnificent yet failed struggle for freedom.  He’s not Griffin, Echo, Mango-Jack, Knightmare, Aoi, or any of those badass Pieces.  He and his friend both got drugged by Cobbler’s fellow townsfolk, whom were paranoid about non-equine races already, and carted off to Gem Fido, Birdie for being part non-pony and Blueberry Cobbler for association.  And… they’ve been at this for months.  In the timeline of this, Birdie missed all those canon events from Season 2, aside from, of course, Discord bringing him to Equestria.  He missed Nightmare Night, Cider Season, Hearth’s Warming Eve, and of course the Canterlot Royal Wedding and Changeling Invasion attempt… That last part goes on in this story during Birdie and Cobbler’s attempt to escape from these particular mines in Gem Fido.

I just wanted to get this out of the way, and I admit it could have been written out much better than I did it.  If this chapter doesn’t get a single thumbs-down, I will be happy, but also very surprised.

Also, I see I’m getting a few readers putting this story on their Favorites, and I give thanks to them for that, but it would also help me greatly –perhaps more- if comments and constructive criticism were given as well… not just alerts about my one story being put on Favorites lists.

You Win Some and You Lose Some

Claw, Hoof, and Feather

You Win Some and You Lose Some

The rest of the week, until the fated hour of that fateful day, lagged on with monotony, those few days dragging on the same general pace.  Sleep, eat, get geared up, work and get whipped, head to sleep again, and then rinse and repeat, day in and day out.  Predictably, it was utter torture and torment.

Still, before long, it was finally time to put the escape plan into motion.

Birdie looked up as he felt Cobbler prod at him with a hoof.  Both equines smiled slightly at each other, and then, slowly and quietly, they stood up.  They made way to walk to the closed entrance to these hellish living quarters…

Birdie took position by the door frame, opposite the side it would open toward.

“Guard,” Birdie’s comrade called to the Diamond Dog currently stationed on watch.  “Guard, one of the other slaves isn’t feeling so well!”

“Not my problem,” the Diamond Dog responded.  Oh, there’s a big sarcastic “great”… it was “Max”, the Tibetan Mastiff-based D-Dog.

“Well, how about this logic!  If slaves don’t feel good, they can’t work.  No work means you won’t have any gems!  No gems means your Alpha is going to be mad at you!”

That seemed to give the guard on the other side of the door pause… and then, quite quickly, the large canine opened the wooden door.

Just how stupid were these canines?

Immediately, Birdie kicked with his left hoof, giving a clean, harsh strike to the guard’s jaw, knocking him out from that single hit.  As the Diamond Dog felt flat on his face, the green hippogryph could only stare, beak agape.  “… Either he has a glass jaw… or those with pony blood kick hard.”

“Dwell on it later,” Cobbler spoke in a hushed tone as they walked out.  “Let’s go before—“

“HEY!”

Both Birdie and Cobbler looked up at the call… to see another Diamond Dog, this one oddly resembling a poodle.

Then, the canine howled.

This was bad.  They recognized that infamous howl.  Cobbler and Birdie were hardly the first escape attempts since the duo had arrived, and they doubted they would be the last.  Still, they remembered what happened each time after that particular howl was let out.

The attempted escapees were always caught and always beaten into submission… at best.

“RUN!” Cobbler spoke out in alarm, breaking Birdie out of his briefly frozen-shocked state as they both began to run, with Cobbler leading Birdie through the mines.  Together, they were practically green and blue blurs, desperately trying to avoid being recaptured.  They were not trying to be daring fools or Daring Do.  They wanted to live!

The duo scrambled through the tunnels without many options available, their desperation already getting the better of them.  Sure, they ran into a couple of canines that stood in their way.

“Gotcha,” the smaller, Chihuahua-based Diamond Dog, about even in height with Cobbler’s shoulders, let out in excitement with his nasally and high-pitched “Gollum voice” as he tried to grab Birdie.

In response, Birdie quickly back-stepped and slammed a closed claw right into the little guy’s snout, sending the D-Dog onto his back with a yelp of pain.

Cobbler, in turn, rammed into the larger, Doberman-like Diamond Dog, his horn jabbing into, but not piercing, the big one’s belly.  She –and it was a she, as not all Diamond Dogs were male—growled and snarled in a pained response.

Birdie struck hard with a hoof to assist, striking her leg as bones snapped with a ‘crack’.  She yelped and whimpered as she fell over onto her side, fixed on her injured limb.

They broke into a run again, and as they ran, Birdie slowly got an idea.  “Cobbler, stop!” he yelled, drawing the blue unicorn to do just that.

“What is it?” he responded, turning to look at Birdie… just as the green hippogryph grabbed something that, quite frankly, the unicorn had forgotten to take into account.

The Diamond Dogs were fools, but not all of them were as easy to deceive as the one dubbed “Max” had been.  For every slave they had special restraints.  For pegasi and griffins, they had put on special saddles and straps to keep them from using their wings, as well as specific claw coverings for during work with those Griffins and Birdie.  For Earth Ponies, they usually put on special hindquarter restraints that allowed walking but prevented kicking.  For unicorns, though, they had these rings slipped onto their horns that prevent the use of magic.  Oh, and the ‘weaker’ Diamond Dogs were usually beaten into submission.

All of these items and restraints had one thing in common.  To put them on or take them off, one needed opposable digits.

Birdie inwardly thanked whatever cosmic force was out there that caused the Diamond Dogs of these specific mines to not take his unrestrained claws into account.  Quickly, he gripped Cobbler’s magic-restraining ring and slipped it off with a grin…

… Just in time of something to flash by his vision.  He felt a sting, and then… pain and a slight change of perspective.

He clutched his new wound, holding his palm over his right eye, which has been damaged by that passing crossbow bolt, as his grin quickly morphed into an expression of agony and he began to fight against writhing in the pain that consumed him from that spot.  His blood quickly began to drip and flow through the green feathers on that side of his face.

As he screeched and whimpered and writhed, both eyes squeezed shut, he felt the familiar tug of magic lifting him up and moving him, the sound of hoof beats in tandem with the pulses of magic that kept his body aloft in the air.

“Damn it!” he heard the unicorn speak as they seemed to round a corner.  “Hold on, Birdie!  Hold on!”

What did Cobbler think he was trying to do?!  And better yet, hold on to what?!

All the green hippogryph could comprehend was the sound of Cobbler’s hooves against the floor of the caves.

“AGH!”

Cobbler screamed in pain, drawing Birdie to finally look up with his good eye as the magical grip slipped.  He gasped in horror.  Cobbler’s side had a new wound that was flowing with his blood, and near them, brought down by what looked to be a hard kick to the sternum, was a Diamond Dog… with a bloody halberd.  “Cobbler…” he rasped out.

Cobbler winced, looking to his own wound as his legs shook to support his weight.  “… It looks like I won’t make it, eh, Birdie?”

“Don’t… don’t say that.  Don’t pull this cliché on me!  Don't you dare pull this cliche on me!” Birdie yelled, trying to ignore his own pain.  “We’ve been pals for months, Cobbler.  You can’t die!”

As the blue unicorn shook his head, he slowly fell to his knees.  “Death comes to us all, Birdie… I guess it’s just my time…”

“No… no!  Stop saying that!”  He was no stranger to death, having witness family funerals, but to die like this...  It wasn't right!

Slowly, Cobbler’s horn began to glow.  “I can use one more spell to get you out of here,” he spoke weakly.  “One last one… before I die.”

“Then use it on yourself!  It’s my fault you’re here!”

“No,” Cobbler responded as he closed his eyes, to orange glow of his horn getting steadily getting brighter and brighter.  “None of this is your fault.  My plan, my decision to take you with me, my choice to take you into town…  No, Birdie, it isn’t your fault, so..."  He coughed weakly, "so stop saying so.  I will not let you die in pity for me…  Use your head, bird-brain," he jabbed, not meaning any true insult, "Even if I did escape, this guarantees that I'm a goner.”

The green hippogryph’s remaining yellow eye went wide as Cobbler opened his eyes, revealing intense magical energy and focus.  “I can’t teleport two, anyway,” the unicorn spoke out.  “Good-bye, Birdie.”

“DON’T!”

There was intense flash of light, filling the tunnel and blinding the incoming Diamond Dogs… and then, when the light faded… Birdie was gone… and Cobbler closed his eyes one last time, never to open them again.

--

In the quaint little desert town of Dodge Junction, one particular Earth Pony, her curly mane as red as cherries and her coat as off-white as the inside of an apple, was simply taking her time as she surveyed all the cherries in her orchard with those light green eyes.

Cherry Jubilee trotted through Cherry Hill Ranch with a slight smile on her face.  She may not have looked it, but the boss of this ranch was a bit of a farm pony at heart, not just a ranch owner or a business-savvy mare.  After all, her family, like the Apples, started their own business from scratch, and she just… modernized the family business.  Some did it the old fashioned way and some wanted a bit of “horse power” put into production and sales.

She blinked as she caught a spark in the air.  “Hm?”  Taken out of her previous thoughts, which were on the bit of work one Applejack of Sweet Apple Acres had provided and how much money she still had yet to mail to her for her services, minor as they were, she ceased her trot in favor of a slow walk toward the spot she witness the spark at.

Another orange spark weaved through the air, then another, and then another.

Her green eyes going wide, the cherry-picking mare slowly backed up as the sparks began to form a large orange orb of magical energy… and then the orb quickly dissipated, revealing a smoldering crater in her orchard… and in the center, a hippogryph, its green and dark brown feathers singed and its breaths labored from what must have been a great ordeal.

Then Cherry Jubilee noticed the blood, and her shock doubled as worry and fear came into her mind.

“Fruit Tart!” she took charge as her worry for somepony in her orchard became evident, addressing one of the cherry pickers somewhere in her orchard.  Sure enough, a blue Pegasus with a red mane and a pastry-based Cutie Mark flew over from somewhere in the trees, her own gaze going wide at the sight of the injured hippogryph, “git’ the town doctor, an’ quick!” the mare directed of her orchard worker.

Fruit Tart silently sped off like a bullet.

--

Pain… All Birdie thought he could feel was pain.  Ponies that were native to whatever town or city he landed in loaded him onto a stretcher and quickly carried him off to a doctor, the agony he felt causing every word he heard to blur together.

“Hold on, big fella’…” an older mare’s voice seemed to address him, speaking in an Old West stereotypical accent.  Somehow, his good eye caught a flash of red and white.

“Easy, now.  Easy with the patient!” a stallion’s voice later spoke.

Either way, they were all blurry, sound and sight alike.

He felt that pain in the socket that housed the remains of his eye.  His body, in turn, ached from all the bruises and the impact of landing where ever he had been teleported to by Cobbler’s magic.  Worst of all, he thought, was the pain the green hippogryph felt in his heart, knowing that his first and so far only friend in Equestria had given up his own life for for Birdie’s sake.

Damn, he sounded like an emo… but it was true.  How else was he supposed to feel, having his first new bond in this not-so-perfect world literally severed by a halberd-wielding Diamond Dog?

With regret and sorrow consuming him, Birdie faded into the bliss of unconsciousness as he felt the stab of a needle into his left forelimb.

“Don’t worry,” he heard a fading male voice, “we’re just making sure this will not hurt…”

--

And so the doctor set to work.  The brown unicorn stallion, his mane tied back and a surgical mask upon his muzzle, quickly lifted up a tool with his magic… and began the surgery to remove the useless remains of the destroyed eye.

Details were too grisly and delicate to say, but by the end, it was an emptied, clean eye-socket, with the lids of the eye sewed back together in a manner that would leave a vertical scar.  Gently, the doctor lowered in a sterilized glass orb, to at least help shape the eyelids around something and keep everything in place and perhaps help prevent infection…

Upon the moment the glass orb came into contact with the back of the socket, the green hippogryph sprung to life and screeched in pain, quite suddenly tossing back and forth as a red glow unlike anything the doctor had seen began to consume the orb..

Quickly, the unicorn worked his magic, trying to keep the hippogryph still, but somehow even then he fought and struggled against the magical bonds.  “Nurse!” the doctor called in.  “Nurse, I need restraints!  NURSE!!”

As the nurse, a unicorn mare, came in, the light slowly began to die down, and as he was strapped down, the hippogryph fell back into unconsciousness.

The doctor could only stare at those closed eyelids, the scar somehow already healed and the stitching just... gone, wondering just what could have gone wrong…  He… he didn’t dare try to tamper with the hippogryph again, not immediately such a volatile reaction.

So, he slowly and carefully placed a cotton pad over that eyelid and began to wrap half of the hippogryph’s head in bandages.  “Just take a rest, big guy…” he pleaded.

“Take a rest.”

--

AN:  FINALLY A THUMBS-DOWN!  Seriously, I was getting so worried.  I know this isn’t that good and that is deserves at least ONE thumbs-down…  Yeah, most authors like all thumbs-ups, but I feel more secure knowing there ARE some who dislike this story and actually say so.  The only question is “Why?”  See, that’s why I would like comments, so I can know what to improve upon, so I can make this story NOT suck.

That said if the “thumbs-down” rating was given solely for being HiE… Oh well.  It all comes down to taste.  At least it’s not a too horrid one in which he meets and instantly befriends the Mane Six, give it that at least.  Not all of those are bad, but... you know.

As for this chapter… yeah, again, nothing really all that grand, per say.  As for what happened at the end of the chapter… People are not going to like it when the results are revealed, I’m sure.  Granted, it’s part of Chess Game of the Gods, but still… people will not like.