FWHABOOOOM!
The ground around her exploded leaving only charred remains of trees and a mutilated corpse, well if it could still be considered a corpse. The knocked over stone statue of a former griffin stood still on the ground, and over half of it was broken. It was rather disturbing, as it's eyes were stuck in a permanent state of terror as it gazed blindly upwards towards it's attacker.
"FIRE!"
Cries of outrage echoed around the town from the voices of hundreds of citizens and spears and arrows and flaming.. things flew across the sky in every direction.
The cockatrice stood hardly a chance, and I knew this ahead of time as I watched the recording.
Within less than twenty seconds or less the monster fell to the ground with an arrow in it's skull. A singular griffin with a peg leg went up and spat on it. "Good riddance," he murmured. The surrounding griffins slowly went back to their houses, a wary look in their eyes.
The body of the lone griffin was buried that night. I had talked with her the night before the incident, we even shared a drink over the bonfire. It was a shame I never got to know her name. As sad as it was, we were grateful that there was only one casualty during our nightly shenanigans. A cockatrice leaves it's victims in stone and never revives them. Sure, there have been rare cases, but it's one in a million. She was as good as dead, especially with all that damage to her statue. 'At least she received a quick death,' I thought.
It wasn't all too uncommon for monsters to turn up in these parts. Each night we have several assigned guards to protect our small village. It seems to be almost every other night theese days. It was just last night we had to deal with a miniature dragon trying to raid our already dwindling supply of gems and gold. We needed something to trade with, after all.
I swiped my claws in the air and the magical recording of last night went away in a puff of green smoke. I suppose it is not best to dwell on the disasters of yesterday. You get rather used to death around here, but it always leaves a twinge of sadness in your heart.
It makes you think about how long you will be here.
Depressing, I know, but some things have to be said.
"Ms. Quinn?" a voice says from behind me.
I startled for a second, then regained my posture and turned to the one behind the desk. Another customer. I apologize, I believe I haven't introduced myself properly yet. My name is Driven S. Quinn. The 'S' stands for storm. I work in a little shop. It's not a great way to make money, but it earns me enough bits a day to go by.
"How can I help you today mister... Thunderhead was it?"
"I'm pleased that you remember my name."
"Heh. Thank you," I said, "Is there anything you would like to buy?"
"Hmm... what would you reccomend, the fish fillet or the blossom stew?"
"Personally I think the fish along the lake have been tasting a bit weird lately, but some griffins like the-"
I was interrupted when he asked me another question, "Is that dragon stew made from real dragons or is it just called that?"
"No sir, it's just called that because of it's green appearance, we don't get enough dragons to make a supply of soup with as the meat is used for much more valuable purposes and is so expensive these days. Five hundred bits I tell you, five hundred bits!"
His eyes widened, then he laughed. "Five hundred...bits?"
"Yeah, crazy isn't it?"
"I could buy my own carriage with that AND hire someone to pull it for a few days!"
"Well I hear that dragon meat is used in very strong potions since we made our new discoveries on it's properties."
"Interesting..."
"Yeah you can read an entire science magazine on it, but down to the real question... what would you like to eat today, Mr. Thunderhead?"
"Please, just call me Thunder. The rest of it makes me feel awkward. And I would prefer the.. fish salad."
"Your order will be ready in several minutes."
"But... before we get to my order.. can you inform me as to where said magazine can be found?"
Once his order was complete I decided to close up shop for the day, only to walk out and see the dead cockatrice from yesterday hanging from a pole. The bottom half of it looked as if someone had ripped it off with their bare claws and did a very poor job. It's intestines hung out like a rope wrapped around itself and it's wings and tail were stitched around the pole like some sick scarecrow. Some of the scales seemed to be plucked off and I noticed that in some of the shops the griffins were selling them as small trinkets. I cringed at the sight, and even though it had killed one of us, I couldn't help but feel pity for the poor thing.
It was a rather disgusting tradition in my opinion to display your kills for everyone to see in the most horrific way possible, but it's what we griffins did.
Walking over to the side of the square, I arrived at the store opened up only a few weeks ago called MS, and I really wanted to visit it recently, I just never had the time. Nobody really knew what 'MS' stood for, so we could only guess.
'Master Store' was my best guess. Maybe it was someone's initials, I've no idea.
Walking up to the counter, I glanced around to see what caught my dark brown eye.
I held up a vase depicting pastel ponies of every color fighting a manticore. The salesgriffin eyed me. "Ah, that base has been around for thousands of years, now only six hundred bits." It seemed like a decent deal for something so old (although I never had that kind of money) until I put it down only to realize there was paint on my claws and the design was smeared. Well that explained why it was so shiny.
"If it's so old then why does it look like it was just painted an hour ago?"
He stuttered. "It's been umm... repainted."
I sighed.
I looked at everything else only to deem it tacky junk and I was about to walk out when I noticed a dusty reddish brown book in the corner of my eye. Approaching it, I blew the dust off and coughed a little. Looking at the title, I read it aloud. "Magical Monsters and You," It read. Huh. I had always had a fascination with old books, and I had recently developed an interest in the creatures in the unnamed forest beyond this town.
"How much?" I asked.
"Oh that old thing? You don't want that, how about a nice-"
"How. Much."
"Two bits."
Putting my two golden coins on the wooden countertop I grabbed my book and left abruptly, muttering a 'Thanks' under my breath, still annoyed with the attitude of the shopkeeper. Putting the book in my bag I smiled at it.
Spreading my wings and flying over to my house in the shop I opened the door which caused the bells above it to jingle. Glancing around the room I found a good place to sit and propped myself against a feather pillow. No, they weren't griffin feathers. Selling griffin feathers is highly illegal, but there is a huge black market for it.
Murderers often used feathers as a trophy and since then nobody trusted anyone with feathers around their neck, even if they were from something as trivial as a songbird. Speaking of that there was an incident just three weeks ago about a serial killer who kept the feathers of his victims. This, clearly, caused an outrage among us. The town as a majority voted for the death penalty. Personally I voted for him to be imprisoned. Now this was all fine and dandy until it was reported in the news that he had escaped the prison the day before his execution and ran for the woods. Shame. He was as good as dead now in the unforgiving Everfree. If he had took the death poison used for execution he would have at least gotten a quick death. Now he's likely been chewed up by some wild chimera. But then again there are rumors he is still alive and traveling the woods, his tale living on as some ridiculous story that big brothers use to scare their younger siblings. 'WANTED' signs now cover our town.
I'll tell you I moved to this colony by the Everfree for a nice peaceful life among the wildlife. "There are hardly any monsters," they said. "You'll be fine," they said. What a bunch of clucking griffin feathers. There are monsters and killers and chaos everywhere you turn up in here. Not to mention the cannibal zebras. Someone could write a horror novel about this place. I pictured that and chuckled.
It was a shame we had no help from the ponies and their magic, which would make life here so much easier. They clearly refused to help us, even instructing us to get away from their land. Yet this was by the other side of the Everfree, clearly not their land. "It's close," they said. Their reason? Unknown. Some say it's because of our lack of magic. Some say it's because we are not equine in nature. Some say it's because our society is less complex. Some say that it's all because we are carnivores. Either way, ponies are a speciest lot, quick to judge and attack anything different from them.
I walked around for bit more fresh air and flew myself up to my own roof to use as a perch. My eagle talons latched onto the bars above with ease but my paws slipped in every which way. Eventually I found a stable position and slowly sat down, looking soon our small down and trying my best to ignore the dead cockatrice. It turns out I wasn't the only one who appeared disgusted by it as a mother sheilded her chick's eyes as they walked by. I laughed a bit, not at the dead lizard bird but at the griffin's face as the walked by. It was quite a sight to behold.
"Hey, you!"
Startled yet again, I looked downwards only to see an angry griffin glaring daggers at me. Sweet Celestia if looks could kill...
"Get the cluck off of my roof!" he yelled loud enough for the townspeople to turn and contemplate our little situation at hand.
It was at that moment that I realized that I was on the roof of the wrong house.
"Uhm.. me?"
"GET OFF."
Slowly, I descended from the roof of the straw house and trotted off pretending nothing had ever happened.
"Griffins these days..." I heard him grunt a little bit too loud as yet again the civilians roaming the streets turned their heads to him.
A shoulder bumped into mine. I turned around to see a grey and white griffin with sky blue eyes all up in my face. Startled for the third time in the past hour I moved backwards a little, only to trip over a hole dug by some little animal (that I was thinking might taste good in a stew at this point) and fell flat on my beak after whirling around like an idiot trying to catch my balance only to fail miserably.
"Don't worry about him, he's always like that. And OH-" she paused, "I'm sorry did I spook you?" I could tell she was holding it as best as she could but she was giggling a little beyond the claws hiding her beak. She reached one over to me. "Need any help getting up?"
"Thanks," I grunted and with her help, pulled myself up, mildly irritated.
"Anyways I came over because I noticed you dropped your bag when you flew down."
My irritation towards this griffin subsided.
I patted my sides right underneath my wings and sure enough there was no bag. My eyes widened a little when I saw it in her grasp. I was lucky she had returned it. It contained all my money along with the book I had just bought. Most griffins, only concerned about themselves these days, would have never given it back.
"What's your name?" I asked, nodding my head as if to say 'thank you.'
"Rose," she stated, "Rose Ember."
"Rose Ember..." I muttered. "I will remember you."
"Hum... Thanks?"
The griffin had done me some good so I felt in necessary to do at least something as a token of appreciation.
"Say, I have a little shop nearby, do you want to visit?" I asked, "I'll let you eat anything you like."
"Would I???" A huge grin had widened over her features as if I had just offered her the ability to take the king's place for a day.
It wasn't long until me and Rose became good friends, sharing treats at the miniature bakery in my shop. I'm no pony. I have no cutie mark, but if I did, it would be in baking, I don't mean to brag. But hey, everyone has their special talents. Me and Rose shared a cup of tea and some pastries and talked about everything imagineable. We talked about science, children, trends, politics (How this one griffin wants to build a wall to separate us from Equestria despite the fact that pegasi can fly and unicorns can teleport across it.) We laughed and smiled and even played chess for a while afterwards followed by us watching the stars and pointing out pretty constellations in the night sky.
"I see Ares."
"I'm still confuzzled."
"Confuzz-Confu-Conf what?"
"Confuzzed," she said, "It's a word I made up when I was just a chick"
SIX MONTHS LATER
Run.
That was all I thought as I bolted through trees and bushes (which wasn't really easy with the pain of a broken wing mind you) as if I was an athlete, which I was certainly not. 'I'm going to get lost,' I thought, but there was no time to worry about that now. I would cross that bridge when I came up to it. 'I'm going to die,' my thoughts changed with their waves of negativity. I ran. I mindlessly ran. Few thoughts entered my mind other than the constant terror of death. The only thing I felt was blind panic and a hint of survivor's guilt. I ran as far as I could as fast as I could through the forest like there was no tomorrow. For all I knew there might not have even been a tomorrow, for me at least. I ran until the screams died down in the background, until all was silent. Until the only thing I could hear was the leaves crunching under my paws.
Dead. Rose was dead, her body likely burning in the ashes.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I cried more than I already had, which was quite a feat.
What ever happened to the village from the last time I spoke to you you ask? Ah. It was raided by a faction, a faction of changelings. No, these were not your average changelings mind you. Their eyes were bright red like the evil that they were, their chitin a dark shade of black like the stain they were on this world. No my friend, these were different. Perhaps a different leader, or a different troop ruled over them? They looked nothing like the changelings of today that had brilliant color and a pony like appearance. Oh no. These things looked like villains from a comic book or something used to scare small chicks into behaving properly. We had all heard of the changeling experiment. The surviving changelings who did not go through the metamorphosis needed a new way to survive, so they mutated themselves to feed of of emotion, any emotion. Hate. Fear. Agony. Sadness. Rage. These were changelings of the old, yet new at the same time.
Of all the invasions, all of the chaos, all of the demons of the night we had faced, it had to come down to this. It was quite sad, really. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought of all the casualties of our short battle. After less than an hour, it was all gone. There was nothing left of the griffin colony but blood and dust and I was the only survivor. Little did I know I was wrong.
I kept running. I wasn't used to running for such a long time as I usually flew, but my wing had snapped when a house, my house, had collapsed onto me. A griffin is no good without a left wing. Now I know how the amputees of war feel. As I ran I could feel the blood trickle down from my wing and from my feet as I bolted through thorned bushes and over the sharp spikes of the wild, wild forest. 'Ow,' I thought, 'That stung.'
Crash, Crash, Crash.
The leaves exploded like miniature bombs beneath me and scattered like well... leaves. I wanted to stop running but if anygriffin was still behind me I didn't want to take the chance of stopping. Ignoring the fact that I had been at this for twenty two minutes, out of blind fear I continued running like a madgriffin through the forest screaming my head off until I realized that maybe screaming like a little chick who had lost it's mother wasn't the best idea. I ran until I could run no more, until my bounding ceased to walking. I still kept going as fast as I could through the mystical forest. Any other time I would have called it beautiful, but I hardly had time to acknowledge the wildlife. I would have liked to have been able to hear if there was anything closing up behind me as changelings make a noticeable buzzing noise but the sound of the leaves was blocking any sound. I couldn't tell if they were there or not.
At last I stopped. I stopped running and panted. Turning my head I looked warily at the sky looking for anything that may have caught up to me. Nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief through my little yellow beak and after a few seconds I began laughing like I was crazy, giant hoots of hysterical laughter. 'Haaaa Haaaa Haaa Go to the colony! Ha ha hah It'll be fine they said!" I continued my crazed moment. "But nooooo... It had to come to this." I grabbed a stick nearby with my talons and stabbed it into a tree, penetrating the bark but not the wood leaving the stick to scrape against my claw and scratch it open. Blood spilled out. I curled up on the forest floor and cried like there was no tomorrow. "It's all a joke! This is all a big-" I kicked the tree only to wince and grab my paw in pain,"Clucking joke!" A long string of profanity erupted from my mouth as I continued my little rage. It was my only outlet.
All of this, all of it could have been avoided if I had just politely said no to going to the colony, yet I knew. I knew it was dangerous. I knew we were fighting for our lives every day.
I had had things in that house of mine, things I had worked for all my life. My first flight trophy was one of them. Another was a picture of my father right before he went to war to fight against the changelings. He never came back. Now the only thing I have with me is a book of magical creatures I had bought several months ago. I picked it up out of my bag. It was ragged and bloodstained from being under my wing for hours on end, not that it was all that much of a pretty sight to begin with. When I had bought it it had been nothing more than a dusty book with water stains and a broken spine. I however, treated it like royalty. Every night I took out a candlelight to study it page by page, never skipping over it anymore. I had memorized practically every monster in the book and every peaceful animal. Nothing flew by my gaze.
The book in my hands I curled up and hugged it like it was my only refuge, like it was some long lost friend... like it was my mother.
Dead. Rose was dead.
Those were the miserable thoughts that took over my mind.
