Down the winding, dirty streets of Klugetown, past the vendors, dark alleys, and countless shifty individuals, you'll come to a bar, The Golden Shell. There's nothing quite special about this particular bar, but on this day, it would be visited by someone Klugetown is not soon to forget.

The exterior was anything but Golden, and you wouldn't expect anything more from the inside. A wooden, well-worn and dusty building, just like everything else, at least the windows were intact. Gazing inside through a film of dirt and sand, you'll find a typical establishment of the name. There were tables and chairs in every nook and cranny, crowded with reptiles, amphibians, and the like. The shadier individuals kept to themselves in the corners or booths, their faces hidden by a cowl or parchment they were "reading". Other than that, the air was filled with chatter, laughing, and the occasional drinking song.

The Storm King's rapid rise and fall to power wasn't anything Klugetown wasn't used to. Different parts of the city were controlled by multiple factions and rival gangs, so the Storm King to them was just another big gang lord, come and gone. So it didn't take long for everyone to switch back to anything of value as currency after Storm Bucks became worthless.

A single, tan-skinned gecko manned the bar itself. You'd think he was part chameleon, because his large bulbous eyes twitched back and forth across the room, independent of the other, and part of his tongue hung outside his mouth. He wore a tattered apron over his other drab, and managed to clean two or three glasses at once with his hands and tail. Quite a capable bartender, he had managed to keep this position for a long time. He had seen tons of strange beings pass through over the years, pirates, bounty-hunters, all sorts of folks from all over the world. Some looking for someone, some not wanting to be found, others bringing ships full of cargo and goods to sell. One such person sat at his bar today.

A small figure draped in a cloak and hood, a purple so dark it was almost black, with the occasional rip or hole along the edges. The bartender couldn't see any of their personal features besides their four legs, hooves. A pony? Very rare indeed, and very far from home. But they didn't appear scared or anxious. Just like any other customer, they had come in, sat down, and ordered a drink. They paid with gold bits. The bartender shrugged and accepted his payment, it wasn't the strangest thing someone had exchanged. The bartender placed a full glass mug in front of them with his tail, then moved on with his work. The bartender would often listen to or chat with the ones sitting at the bar, but this pony didn't look like the friendly type. Probably just on their way through, back from a long dry road and in need of something to quench their thirst.

Almost no one even noticed the small covered guest, fewer still noticed that it was a pony. The playful and brightly colored beings were a rare sight, often taken advantage of by slave traders or thieves. But this pony was different. They blended in rather than stuck out, and didn't look fazed at all by the large, scary reptiles seated around them. Some of the other guests took note, then went back to their own matters. It was best not to mess with calm and collected strangers in cloaks.

All at once, a newcomer burst into the room, the wooden doors banging open. A deep and gruff, but jolly voice called out,

"Here's....Grimjaw!!"

Everyone in the bar turned. Sure enough, it was the big boss himself. The walking two-tons of tortoise was leader of a gang that ruled over this section of Klugetown. He was easily over seven feet tall, had light blue skin, green beady eyes, and a dark blue shell. His namesake comes from the specially-made gold-plate with teeth that reinforced his bottom jaw, making his already dangerous snapping bites deadly, capable of crushing metal, wood, and bone in seconds. He carried with him a large pot-gut, supported by two stubby but muscled legs. Scars and golden tattoos adorned his stocky arms, tipped with golden spikes over his claws. The room went silent when he walked in, followed by a group of cronies.

"Hey, where'd the party go? It's supposed to be a riot in 'ere!", Grimjaw laughed, striding into the center of the room, arms out like he owned he place, which he did. (He also named the bar after himself, is you couldn't tell.)

The bartender slid a full glass across the bar, which stopped in Grimjaw's meaty clutches. The giant tortoise pointed to the gecko,

"This guy gets it", he said before chugging the drink.

Everyone turned back to their own business, the chatter returning to normal. Grimjaw's eyes scanned the crowd, he was proud of his bar's popularity, but you could never be too careful. There were a lot of other gangs and people that wanted him dead, so he wouldn't be surprised to find a couple thugs or a hired assassin from one of his rivals. His eyes landed on the puny cloaked figure sitting a couple of spaces down from him at the bar. Grimjaw smiled, he always loved newcomers. He turned to the bartender, pointing at the cloaked form on the stool.

"Ay Slick, what's his deal? He new or somethin'?"

Slick nodded.

"He got any...", Grimjaw whispered, rubbing his index finger and thumb together.

Slick remembered that the pony had pulled those gold bits from a larger pouch from somewhere in his cloak, so he nodded again. Grimjaw grinned devilishly. He got up from leaning against the bar and raised his glass,

"Attention everyone! We got ourselves a newbie here!", the tortoise bellowed, pointing to the cloaked figure on the stool, "Now, did anyone tell 'im how things work round these parts?"

The room was silent. Grimjaw began pacing around the room,

"Ninety percent. If you live in this part of town, ninety percent of all the wages you earn and the money you make, goes to me. In return, I run this fine establishment, and offer you my protection. If any other gang messes wit ya, they answer to me.", he laughed,

"but we haven't had that problem in a while, have we? And even if you're just passin' through, the tax still stands. So...", he turned to the newcomer, coming up right behind them and slamming a giant clawed hand on the counter. "What'll it be? I know there's more of where those gold pieces came from."

A male voice replied,

"Back off..."

"Ooh, a tough guy, eh?", Grimjaw said, playfully hitting the pony on the shoulder, "You see, I'm pretty tough myself. See this shell?", Grimjaw pointed to his back. "Swords, spears, arrows, hell, even cannonballs can't get through this baby."

Grimjaw breathed heavily right behind the stranger, radiating intimidation. He held up his hand,

"Ya got three options. One, you pay me and I leave you alone for the rest of your stay. Two, get outta here and pick a bar in another part of town. Or three, " his tone became threatening as he pulled out a knife with his other hand,

"I gut you like a fish, right here, right now."

The only sounds in the room were Slick slowly cleaning a glass with a rag and slight clinking as Grimjaw's cronies collected taxes from the audience. The tension had everyone on their seats. Although they had seen very few, they expected a pony to cower or run away, smart ones would pay the fine, and only idiots would resist or stay silent. But that's what was happening, so everyone was expecting a bloodbath. How sad to see something so small and helpless be brutally slaughtered, but no one would dare intervene, less they meet the same fate. Grimjaw was ruthless. He'd just as soon bite you in half as he would share a drink with you, he only cared about money and himself.

Nobody moved for a minute for so, and Grimjaw was only so patient. He shrugged,

"I guess it's number three then!", an evil look glinting in his eyes as he raised his knife. The squeemish turned their eyes away as the knife came down.

Suddenly, with the sound of clinking metal and a large Thud!, Grimjaw was lifted three, eight, thirteen feet into the air!

Everyone gasped. Slick dropped his glass. The pony hadn't moved an inch, but there were two new rips in the back of his cloak, out of which floated two long chains, hoisting Grimjaw up into the air and holding him against the roof. Green fluid dripped from the ceiling. Upon further inspection, everyone saw that the chains each ended in the handle of some sort of blade. If you were outside, you could see two lime green spikes of energy poking through the roof.

Grimjaw struggled for breath, desperately pulling at the blades that pierced through his ribs, heart, lungs, shell, and the ceiling. The air hummed gently with electricity, no, magic. Everyone was either too shocked to move, or too drunk to notice. Once Grimjaw stopped moving, the blades and chains released, retreating back into the cloak. The two-ton tortoise body fell to the ground, causing a small tremor and crushing several tables and chairs.

The pony stood up and turned around. His irises were red, greatly contrasting the lime green glow in the rest of his eyes, which leaked some sort of purple energy. He turned to those that had come in with the greedy tortoise.

"You have two options. One, give these poor folks their money back, leave, and forget you ever saw me. Two," his eyes flashed red under his hood, "share his fate."

Without a second thought, they dropped their bags of miscellaneous treasure, then scrambled and slithered out of there as fast as they could. The crowd watched them flee for a couple seconds, and when they turned back, the traveler was gone.

That day would live on in infamy in Klugetown, when a mysterious traveler put down one of the most powerful crime bosses in the city. As tall-tales do, the details were exaggerated over time, but those that were there would never forget.

Author's Note

This is an introduction to one of the story arcs in my other story, Equestria and Beyond. For now, it's a standalone story, but will get compiled with everything else eventually.