The Golden Record
North of Ponyville, only an hours walk away, the owner of a building of specific design, stayed awake, while the town was slumbering peacefully. The building though old, constructed before the owner or his parents were born, was built to last a millennium. The interior of was very similar to the wooden library of Ponyville, except instead of being made of wood, it was made of stone. It had one large open area, with many alcoves and spaces dug into the walls, acting as surrogate rooms for the resident.
The occupant, though he would never admit it, was incredibly jealous of the citizens of Ponyville, only for the fact that they were sleeping.
Need sleep.
The weary eyed stallion glanced out of his window, catching the first few, beautiful seconds of dawn. Heavy bags had formed under his eyes, and all he could think about was the unfamiliar embrace of a good night sleep. Insomnia plagued this workaholic, and it had been nearly a week since the last time he fell asleep. It didn't help that because of his job, he could only sleep through the day, when the wildlife of Equestria wouldn't shut up and when the sun wouldn't go away. Eventually, after mulling over it for a difficult, straight minute, he decided to do one more.
One more star.
This determined pony was Orion. Renowned astronomer, famous for his constellation, and his personal quest to map every star in the night sky. It was a noble task of course, and was a testament to his abilities as an astronomer and a scholar. His name would be written in history, he'd be showered with money and mares. That wasn't why he was doing this though; he yearned for a challenge, and more importantly, he really wanted to show them stuck up Canterlot nobles that doubted him he could do it.
But recently, the drive to keep going was fading. He had become accustomed to the notion that this endeavor wasn't worth the hassle. However, every time the thought came to his front if his mind, he stuffed it back to its dark depths.
After persistently forcing his heavy eyes to stay open, he proudly grinned when the coordinates of the last star of the night were written down in his tome. His huge, steel cased, magically protected tome. Nothing wrong with be cautious, he drowsily mused. Just as he was about to take his eye away from the eyepiece and go and try again at sleeping, a bright light in the corner of his eye caught his rapidly fleeting attention. The light was much closer than a star, and was moving fast, brushing across the tops of chilly clouds.
Orion, intrigued by this, trudged to the nearest window to observe with his own, exhausted eyes.
Halfheartedly, he craned his neck around to see a beautiful, orange, blazing ball, burning its way through the sky, embers defiantly breaking off and immediately extinguishing in the crisp morning air. He shrugged it off, calling it a pretty sight, but he wasn't awake enough to admire it in all its beauty. Just as he turned to go to bed, he gave the comet one last glance before hitting the hay for good.
Oh no.
For sone reason he couldn't fathom, the comet's trajectory sharply turned and was heading straight for the observatory. Wide eyed and wide awake, Orion acted in the same way the strongest and most courageous minotaur would.
Panic.
In a terrified frenzy, he shoved everything of value into the largest container he could carry and sprinted to the exit, praying that cowering behind the nearby hill was enough protection. He charged at his door, unhinging it and splintering it beyond repair. With no door to stand in his way, the terrified stallion burst out of the observatory, running for a moment before stopping. Ignoring his instinctive decision to flee for one second, he glanced back up at the sky. If his, inaccurate guess was correct, he had a few fleeting moments to run before this burning rock explosively crashed into his observatory.
Then he froze in his place, with the comet still bearing down in him. His bag was light. It contained many valuables, like his favorite novels and favorite biographies, his lucky uranium chunk, but it still felt light. It still felt like it was missing something that gave his life meaning. Orion felt his heart touch the dirt as he realized what he didn't do. He didn't pick up the tome containing fours years work, something the biggest dolt in Equestria would do.
Really? The one time I leave the stupid thing unchained to my hoof, a meteor is going to burn me to Tartarus. Just once Celestia, once, can you be nice to me?
His sorrow stricken train of thought left him, give or take, no time left before the meteor hit, most likely burning him to a pile of ash. With every last ounce of his strength, he ran as fast as he could to the safety of the hill, but made it only out of his front yard before the comet landed with deafening crash. He heard a spine chilling clang of metal and a booming crack of stone.
Orion, doubting he was still alive, blinked a few times, then sheepishly glanced around at his surroundings, then down at himself. He wasn't a white ghostly figure standing above a smoldering heap of powder. It looked like he was okay, and when he went to look over his shoulders at his saddlebags, they did too.
Orion's heart was pounding. He not only was dangerously near the crash site of a comet, he survived it without a scratch. A feat he doubted Celestia could do. The surviving without a scratch part, not the surviving. There was no doubt in his mind an immortal could survive.
Then his heart abruptly stopped, and lunged itself into his throat. Just because he was fine didn't mean the observatory was, or his work. Legs shivering, sweat dripping from his forehead, he turned to face what he expected, was a crater.
No way.
To his never ending delight, and unlimited source of surprise, the observatory wasn't a smoking crater, devoid of any evidence of his work. It was still there, stoicly staring up at the slowly disappearing night sky, like always. Like a drunk parent at a family get together, Orion danced like a fool. After being hit with a meteor, his house came out on top, leaving the fray with only a hole in the roof. With a thin, tower of smoke floating out of the hole. With a pungent smell of burning coming from the building.
Uh oh.
Orion, and all of wisdom decided against enchanting his tome with a spell to prevent fire damage. Instead he chose the 'anti-theif' package, only he could open it, hold it, or if he ever grew a horn, perform any magic on it. The unicorn at the library was more than happy to add the fireproof package enchantment for free, but him and his stupid compulsion to always be on the clock, took the tome and ran as soon as possible.
The stallion bolted inside, smashing the remains of his door to shavings underhoof as he did, only to lay his eyes upon, no fire?
Well, no big fire. Just a few embers and dwindling flames were dotted about the room.
None of his possessions were affected by the meteor, which lay in ruins in the center of the observatory, but was glowing red from the heat of entry. Ignoring the fallen star, crashed into the middle of his home, he sighed when he saw his tome, under a pile of scattered sheets of paper, by his unharmed telescope. Like it was his beautiful baby, Orion cradled the book with his hooves, and after the clumsy job of unlocking its metallic layer, began inspecting each page for any damage. He flicked over each side, thoroughly checking for any signs of damage, but saw something else.
It may have been caused by his lack of a warm bed in, when he thought about it, six days, but he was convinced the images before him were more than real.
Scribbles and sketches of constellations morphed into faces, laughing at him. He saw years of hard work and sacrifices, years of set backs and false breakthroughs, years of loneliness and regret. All thrown away into a dumb job no one really cares about. Sorrow overcame the stallion, he just sat on his haunches dumbstruck. His brain was right, why did he have to keep ignoring it.
This was pointless.
Immense exhaustion overcame him, causing him to fall like a sack of hammers onto his face, and into a deep slumber.
When he finally woke up, Orion had no idea how long he'd been sleeping for. He collapsed in the early hours of the morning, and woke up at midday. Considering he hadn't slept in a while, he could only guess at to how many days he slept through. Filled with aches and groans, he lifted himself to his hooves, ignoring the cries of every muscle in his body telling him to stay down.
As he glanced around the observatory, his attention focused on the steel box on the floor between his hooves. There was an odd feeling that it had just been in danger. Then he remembered. Orion peered over the ledge to see the damage caused by the freak disaster.
It was minimal, a few cracked, charred and on fire spots of stone, but the fires were dwindling. However, the most terrifying sight of all, was what caused the damage. A wise man once said about a comet, 'It'll burn up in our atmosphere and what's ever left will be no bigger than a Chihuahua's head.' This was not the case.
Because this was not a comet.
In his home, surrounded by roaring flames, at least that's what he thought he saw, was a soot covered dish with three large protrusions coming together from the center of the dish. From the underside of the dish, was a small, cubic box with a hatch on one side. The whole thing was beaten up badly on its descent, many obvious snaps and burns covered the hunk of metal. The tip of the three protrusions almost met, but the three spikes abruptly ending merely inches away from each other.
Naturally, Orion was cautious of it. He had never seen anything like it. None of his books had diagrams of anything similar, nor had he seen anything resembling it in the hundreds of hours he spent, studying the sky, where the enigma originated.
After staring at the machine, for almost five straight minutes, the metal contraption clunked, and the panel shot open. It groaned as it swayed from side to side in the draft it created. Keeping his distance, Orion cautiously prowled towards the hunk of metal, each groan or creak send shivers all through his body. He reached the scrap heap, every fibre in his body screaming at him to turn and run, and the panel slammed shut when a harsh gust shot through the building. Soot that caked the door, crinkled and fell, revealing something.
Three letters. An 'N', two 'A's and an 'S', emblazoned in front of a blue starry sky. Above the letters was a name, maybe? 'Voyager 2'.
"NASA?" He said out loud to no one in particular. "Voyager two?"
Those four letters stood out the most. They meant nothing to him. No committee, or science division, or magical society or book club he had ever read of, heard of or saw of was named 'NASA'. There was a 'C.A.S.A.', The Canterlot Association of Scientific Advancement. Still wary of what was inside, and confused by the letters, Orion carefully tugged at the hatch and peered inside.
A golden record case. One of those vinyl records musicians were obsessed with, but plated gold. On one side, etchings and scribbles, lines, squares, circles... And what looked like wave forms. On the other side...
'The Sounds of Earth'
'United States of America'
'Planet Earth'
So. Many. Questions. And only one pony had the best chance of answering them.
Three thuds on the door broke Twilight from her well deserved time alone. "Spike!" She called out, to no avail, and quickly remembered he went out to help Rarity collect more gems, as they were easier to find at night. No way in Tartarus would Twilight allow either of them to go after the diamond dog incident, especially at night! But, much to Twilight's annoyance, Big Macintosh, Applejack and Rainbow Dash offered to make sure no pesky diamond dogs showed up. Seriously considering giving whoever was knocking on her door a piece of her mind, Twilight places her book to the side and went to answer it. It was already dark for Celestia's sake!
"You!"
"Me?"
Out of breath and sweating, a pony she could vaguely remember was standing on the other side of her door, accusingly pointing his hoof at her face. "Yes, you! You personally know Princess Celestia, right?"
"Yes, she's my mentor. But, I'm sorry, I don't quite remember you. We've met before haven't we?" Her naturally friendly demeanor seemed to calm the frenzied stallion for just a moment, his panting paused, before he rudely barged past her.
"I need you bring Celestia here so she can answer some questions I have." The pony had mean bags under his eyes, and expectantly stare at Twilight, making her feel incredibly uneasy. "Oh! My name? It's Orion. Now are you gonna bring her here or what? I got a ton if questions only she could answer." Rarely had a pony asked for a favor so they can speak with Celestia, through letters or in person, and his question caught her off guard.
"Questions about what? I'd prefer I don't disturb her and bring her to Ponyville over nothing." As soon as she finished talking, the stallion brought out a sparkling golden disk from his saddlebags, and gently placed it on the floor.
"This is not 'nothing'."
Twilight enveloped the startling golden circle in her magic to inspect it closer. She looked at the panting pony with so much doubt and confusion, she couldn't help herself when one of her skeptical eyebrows was raised. When he nodded at her to continue, she began to inspect the case, sighting the scribbles and shapes first.
"Well, these inscriptions are telling you how to play a record. I think Pinkie Pie has something that could do that for you. And this..." Her brow furrowed when she flipped it over, and she felt her scholarly curiosity peak. "'The United States of America'? 'Planet Earth'? I've never heard of those before." And she was telling the truth.
There wasn't a city or town in Equestria named that, there wasn't a city or town in the griffin kingdom named that, and there was definitely not a town or city named that in the dragon lands. Some of the closet planets that orbited nearby stars were named, but to her knowledge, not named 'Earth'. Twilight's mind started racing, thinking about 'The United States of America?', was it once not united? Where is it? What were the ponies from there like? Were there ponies there? Do griffins or diamond dogs or dragons live there? Or something else entirely? A species never seen before? Is this species a peaceful species? Does this species know about Eques-
"Miss Sparkle? Are you okay?"
Startled, Twilight jumped back from the stallion tipping his head to the side, gawking at her, concerned for her well-being. For, what was almost an entire minute, Twilight stared into empty space near a baffled Orion, engulfed in her own thoughts. Never before had he seen a pony be fine one moment, then the next go into a comatose state. Normally, Twilight could think about things of this level of importance and still continue a conversation with a friend, however this time, for the first time, she completely lost track of what she was doing. In front of a stranger!
She coughed into her hoof, her face burning hot. "Sorry, that um, I was just thinking." Again she involuntarily coughed into her hoof, and sheepishly smiled at her guest, who awkwardly looked away. "So," the unicorn placed an unconvincing brave smile on her face, ignoring the burning sensation on her cheeks, "where did you get this? I've never seen anything like it."
Without a word, Orion opened the door to the library and walked to the left, out of view from the unicorn inside. A few seconds passed, when the sound of dirt being dug started to louder in Twilight's ears. When he returned, Twilight gained the same questions as he, burning questions that only Celestia could answer. Tied to Orion's barrel with a soot covered, rough rope, a great, white, burned dish with a cube at the bottom of the disk dug its way through the dirt. He explained he waited until night to drag it into town, as he wanted very few to know about it. It took some time, but eventually, they were able to get the contraption in the library through the balcony doors, as it was too big to fit through the front door.
Still panting and sweating, Orion lay on his back, on the edge of falling asleep while Twilight paced her way around the metal enigma in her home. The letter to the Princess had already been sent; Twilight learned how to send letters to Celestia for occasions just like this one, but never told the little drake for fear of making him feel, unnecessary. Already, a track around the mysterious hunk of metal was starting to form as she waited for Celestia. Every inch of the heap of metal raising her scientific curiosity to levels unrivaled by anything before.
What was it? What was the purpose of the dish? If he was telling the truth, Orion mentioned that the box at the bottom held the record case, so its purpose was obviously to transport the record. What did the acronym, 'N.A.S.A.' stand for? Why was it named 'Voyager 2'? Was there a Voyager 1? How old was it? Why was it created? And the biggest and brightest question, where was its origin? Her snoozing acquaintance, before he collapsed told her 'it came from space'. Whether that was a fatigue caused babble or the truth was another question entirely. Nonetheless, this was the biggest mystery in Equestrian history.
And they hadn't listened to the record yet.
"Hey Twilight, Princess Celestia and Orion!" As cheerful and bubbly as ever, Pinkie burst through the library door, wheeling in her pristine record player. Even when the night had reached the midway point of its cycle, and when every pony in Equestria was sound asleep, Pinkie somehow managed to have the energy a raging manticore could never compete with. "I brought my record player like you asked!"
"How does she know my name?" Orion whispered into Twilight's ear, eliciting a giggle from her. Awake yet almost about the doze off again, Orion had been woken up by Twilight when the Princess arrived. It took a lot of convincing from Twilight, and only a 'I trust her' from Celestia for him to accept another being in the know. It wasn't like he had a choice.
"Don't worry, she's harmless."
"That still doesn't make me feel better."
With the case, carefully levitating close to her chest, Twilight approached the player, which Pinkie was nonchalantly leaning on. Her breath was lost after her first hoof step towards it, as was Orion's and Celestia's, who was as curious as her subjects. The Princess of the Sun herself, had truly never seen anything like this before, and she was the oldest, er, I mean, wisest and er, most knowledgeable pony in Equestria.
When she was only a hoof's lengths away from the record player, the gentle tapping of his hoof steps behind her alerted her to their approach. To her right, Orion, a pony she could barely remember his name an hour ago smiled at her. Through the short venture the two ponies had, Twilight felt closer to stranger. On her left, her mentor, her teacher, her oldest friend, gave her the same reassuring smile. The same smile she gave her throughout her life. The same smile she gave her when she defeated Nightmare moon, when she defeated Discord, when she defeated Chrysalis. The smile that told her she was right behind her. A tear formed in her eye as she looked up at the Princess, tears already in hers.
"Even though I have no idea what's going on, this is really nice." Choking on her words, Pinkie sniffed as she glanced at each of them. Celestia lightly giggled when the earth pony pulled out a tissue from nowhere are loudly blew into it.
Without saying a word, Orion lifted up the needle, waiting for the record to be placed on its rightful throne.
"Shall we do this Twilight?" The pony to her left asked. A solemn nod, and a caring grin was her answer. The case opened with a satisfying sound of metal scraping against metal. Just as they expected, the record itself was coated, or made of gold. More than likely coated, as lifting it with her magic was easy. Heavy, loud thuds of her heartbeat filled Twilight's ears as the disc was placed in the center of the player.
It span beautifully, glimmering sparkles resembling stars in the sky covered the golden disk.
"Twilight, your majesty. Shall I proceed?" With a hoof still on the needle, Orion, no longer feeling tired or exhausted, asked the student and her teacher, upon his face an excited grin lay.
"Ready!"
"I am ready, Orion."
He replied with a nod, and let go of the needle.
Sending Out the Invitations
Sending Out the Invitations
Searing steam and finely ground soot fused together in the air of the dragon proving grounds. The acrid mixture, normally too hazardous and damaging for a normal creature to handle, was completely ignored by the giant, scaled behemoths. Their entire bodies had long since adapted to boiling temperatures that surrounded and engulfed them and most importantly, protected them from outsiders.
Watching younglings playfully spar with each other in a bubbling lava pit, the closest thing dragon kind had to a leader sat atop a giant sparkling throne of gems, occasionally reaching down and gnawing on a juicy ruby.
"If the griffins will not leave, then we must make them!" A stout green dragon roared, waggling his stumpy index claw at his seated peer. The blood-red dragon atop his jewels rolled his golden eyes as he remembered what was happening. "You know as well as I do that they are a barbaric tribal species, and will never listen to reason." Accompanying the aggressive dwarf of a dragon, three other of his kin stood behind him, nodding like sheep after every word. "Heed my words Gorr," he sneered, blowing a few small embers out his nose as he stopped pacing back and forth, "nothing good will come of allowing them to build their cities in the mountains of the frontier!"
Gorr was a new thing to dragon kind. Instead of the earlier, and extremely violent and xenophobic patriarchs that plagued dragon broods, Gorr returned early from hibernation, with a change of heart, and a drive to lead his species to peace with all of Equestria. Not a soul was informed what prompted the change of heart; Gorr kept it secret from everyone.
Though many males disagreed and challenged him for the throne of his tribe, Gorr always kicked them down from the hill, giving them a few broken bones and scales as a parting gift. He was gifted like that; his natural strength had been with him since he was born. The majority of opposite gender supported him fully, often using words like, 'diplomat' and 'benevolent' and 'handsome' to describe him.
That was why the little one was so peeved. The little green dragon, who was quadruple the age and half the size of Gorr, was a representative from a different tribe, with very old and different values. A tribe that valued brute strength and a lack of the ability to think for themselves a valuable, and when it came to mating, attractive quality.
His mood stemmed from the griffins deciding to spread out into the unexplored lands of the world and taking potential hibernation spots for dragons. Griffins built their cities either dug into the innards of mountains by tunnelling inside, then harvesting any of the valuable guts, or they lived on clouds, like the ponies. The tribe this certain snot green whelp hailed from, had frequently threatened to take things into their own claws and start cleansing the mountains, but crumbled every time Gorr reminded them, he and his tribe would stand by the griffins.
"How many times must I tell you Torgut? The land is unclaimed." Gorr forcefully rose from his throne, crushing his gems under his giant feet. His patience had worn thin the fourth time he explained this to him. "They have as much right to explore and build settlements as your tribe d-"
Never in his life did he involuntarily expel fire, not even when he was a teen, yet at that precise point, a soft, green flickering flame danced in the air as it followed his deafening belch. Never before had his flames ever been close to a hue as green as that. The four visitors watched the small flame spiral down to to their level, and jumped as it militarized into a tiny scroll. Torgut pounced, snatching it before Gorr had recovered from his stupor.
Tearing the delicate ribbon apart, Torgut's keen, predatory eyes flashed wide, and a devilish grin emerged on his stumpy snout.
"I can't believe it! The legendary Gorr is best friends with the namby pamby Princess Celestia!" His lackeys didn't respond quick enough and each received a harsh glare from their boss. Upon realizing what they were meant to do each began laughing, occasionally sharing an unconvincing glance that didn't go unnoticed by Torgut. "Don't you get it, you idiots! This terrifying wretch is pen pals with the Princess of the ponies!" He groaned as not one of them seemed to react or acknowledge what it meant. "It means he's weak! It means his whole tribe is weak! Why else would a dragon want to speak, or even know a pony!?" Torgut bellowed loud enough for Celestia herself to hear.
Before Torgut had a chance to turn around and laugh directly in the face of his rival, his windpipe was clamped shut by a strong, muscled claw. He gasped in pain, as he was lifted into the air and forcefully turned. Suffocating, his bulging eyes followed the claw along to a blood-red muscled arm, then to an equally muscled shoulder, then his heart almost stopped as he saw Gorr, the terror of the Dragon Lands, his ice shattering, heart stopping, fiery gaze glaring into his eyes. He didn't need to say it for Torgut to understand what he wanted. The terrified green drake released his weakened grasp on the scroll and was instantly dropped to the floor onto his side, gasping for air.
"Leave. Now." Gorr growled, his voice emotionless and low. "Unless you wish to never breath again." He didn't check to see if they did leave before reading the letter from Celestia. Upon reading the mysterious note, Gorr could only solemnly mutter, "oh, Celestia, what ails you?"
Loud clatters of metal tankards upon metal tankards filled the tavern, as a loud, hearty chant of the name 'Gilbo' welcomed an aged griffin onto the stage. In his right hand was a mug of mead, over his right eye was a black eyepatch and trailing up the side of his beak, a painful looking crack. Among the crowd, the younger males and occasional female, cheered and wolf called to the slightly inebriated bird, whereas the elders stood up from their chairs, saluting with either a talon to the forehead, or placing a talon over their worn hearts.
"Oi! Settle doon y' drunk bastards!" The griffin on the stage laughed over the booming crowd, immediately receiving their unbroken silence. "Even though the city has'ne been fully built yet, all o' y' deserve free drinks fer the whole night! On me!" Deafeningly loud drunken roars and his name being sung over and over returned to the tavern, even the oldest griffins joining in with the sloppy dancing and even sloppier singing.
All was well in the new mountain city of Ironwing. It didn't need to be said, a griffin town needed a bar before a hospital, and Ironwing proved that. Construction of the new city had began a few months ago, and even before plans were made for the first schools or water systems, a tavern's blueprints had been drawn, staff employed and stocked with various alcoholic beverages for the next two dozen years.
Gilbo, the middle aged, one eyed griffin returned to his seat, receiving more than enough claw shakes and salutes to count. Taking a huge gulp from his tankard of warm ale, his buttocks came in contact with a cushion someone swiftly placed under him as he went to sit down. Either the booze or the kind gesture warmed the avian's heart, though a part of him would of preferred the gesture went undone.
Even if he, or his subjects didn't believe it, he was a mere mortal, just like them. However, the tavern stools always left his booty worse for wear, and there was no harm in accepting something given to you.
Gilbo was, to put it bluntly, 'Supreme Leader of the Griffin Empire'. Not a title he chose himself, however. How did he, self proclaimed village drunk, become a supreme leader of a species?
Hell if he knew.
Maybe his supernatural talent at finding gold, or his ability to drink any stubborn griffin king under the table helped him reach the top. Actually, it was the second one. The first helped him own the most successful mining organization in the known land, but, the second reason was why he became leader. Ex-king and queen Blackclaw learned a valuable lesson that day.
'Don't mess with Gilbo'.
To every griffin under his relaxed, almost non-existent rule, Gilbo was a best friend, even if they'd never met in person before. The alcoholic slob had a heart of gold, and just by looking at him, you could tell he did. Charisma oozed from each of his aged, gray feathers, and sensibility laced each of his slurred words. Even as liquid courage replaced sixty percent of his blood stream long ago, it rarely affected his judgement or placed him in a bad mood.
Though, behind the cheerful smile of an aging drunk, lay a calm sober griffin, and behind him, was his cautious, nervous, and definitely realistic conscience. This was the part of him that came about only recently. Around about the time he realized, he was 'Supreme Leader of the Griffin Empire'. After the amount of booze he drank at the contest, it took a year for him sober up. 'Biting off more than he could chew' was a great way to describe what the old coot did, and he knew it. He was no politician. He was a drunk, over friendly, vulgar miner.
That's why he was out on the frontier, not in his swanky castle in the capital. The very idea of being in that overpriced, snooty room while his brethren risked their lives for the materials to make said room, made his flammable blood boil. Ruling behind a team of advisers who took hours to take minutes was a perfect way for the dictator to catchup on the sleep he lost over his people, though many were becoming tired of it. So he did the next best thing; join the city on the frontier. It may have been irresponsible leaving the capital and other towns and cities to the whims of his stuck up advisers, but they were not the ones risking their lives, and the miners needed all the help they could get, and he knew his peers that were temporarily replacing him didn't have the stones to make any drastic changes he wouldn't make himself.
Just as he was about to pour the last drops of his ale into his dry mouth, deafening alarm bells shook the foundations of Ironwing.
"Dragon incoming!" Screamed the panicked runner who burst though the bar door. Every griffin in the bar stopped dancing or singing, and slowly turned to the leader of their nation, their species. The alarm bell seemed to fade away for Gilbo and everyone in the bar, the only noise coming from a leaky bar tap behind the counter he so frequently sat. Without so much as an acknowledgement of the warning, he looked from side to side, gripped back around the handle of his mug and gulped down a beak full of ale. What felt like hours for each of the griffins in the bar past, when Gilbo finally placed the tankard down with a satisfied breath.
"What're yoo lassies waitin' fer? There's a bloomin' dragon oot there!" Pulling out two square bottles of liquor from nowhere, he threw caution to the wind by smashing one on the table, and gulping down half of the other. A loud, courageous roar of the tavern propelled the griffin leader to lead the charge, with a smashed bottle as a weapon.
Gilbo's heart pounded out his chest as he bolted through the streets of his city. The constant scraping echoes of talons upon metal pavements penetrated his feathered ears. Including everyone in the tavern roaring and running and flying behind him, following him to the battlements, stray terror-stricken citizens heard the rallying cries of a few hundred griffins, saw Gilbo leading the charge, and followed suit, grabbing the closest thing to a weapon they could muster.
Turning the corner to giant, steel door of Ironwing, Gilbo squinted his good eye when the blinding rays of light snuck through the corners. In one, strong, swift motion, the frenzied griffin smashed his remaining, intact bottle against the solitary lever that kept the perilous frontier, outside. Shards of brown tinted glass fell around the lever, which reacted to the strike by slowly arcing downwards. The impromptu, ragtag army of griffins stood silent as the loud clunking of the cogs, and scraping of metal on metal, echoed through the giant metal city.
Visions of 'what ifs', filled the minds of every griffin clutching onto the weapon they muster in such short time to defeat a dragon. Never before had a dragon been defeated by an army of griffins as small as Gilbo's, and never before had two, allied dragons been defeated in one bout, by any number of creatures that weren't, in fact, dragons. Only the drunken and the foolish could tell themselves the battle before them was not to be their last, and Gilbo was both, though he could not lie to himself. At the very least, he could smile and acknowledge, if he was to die, it was with his brothers and sisters defending the city he came to love in such a small space of time; the promise he pledged to keep on the arrival to the city of Ironwing, was to be fulfilled.
When the metal door of Ironwing finally stopped its wide arc, revealing the huge, snow covered, stone semicircle, the landing zone for griffins and the contraptions of his, technologically inclined subjects, rested beneath the snowy peak of the mountain, Gilbo's ears were filled with the steady sounds of talons scraping on stone. The mid evening sun lit the side of the mountain up, and all of the creatures standing upon it, including the aged, wise soldiers and miners of decades before, marched forward from behind him, lined up side-by-side, their frail wings too weak to keep them airborne in the crisp, freezing gusts of the Ironwing mountain. Their haggard and tired eyes stared forward, out towards the hulking dragon that rapidly closed in on them. Towards the blood-red scales, the golden eyes, the diamond strong teeth, the massive leathery wingspan.
He took to the air, pointing the serrated bottle of his right hand out to the skies, and at the rapidly approaching figure. "Everywoon! This little runt of a dragon thinks it can attack us griffins and leave withoot at least receivin' some of oor, friendly hospitality! We're all gonna make sure this dragon neva wants to see anothuh griffin featha again!" Powerfully pivoting in the air, Gilbo turned to face his people, so they could look into the eyes of their leader, as they charged head strong into, what could be the final moments of their life. "Let's make th' Mother proud, griffins."
Only the sound of whistling wind, nervous coughs, or chattering beaks were noticed by the head griffin, each noise sending a shiver through his body. Moments passed, the griffins finally realizing it was probably their final minutes, but none of them fled like cowards. Not while Gilbo was at the front.
Then, a loud noise. Maybe a cough. A belch perhaps. Or maybe, the clearing of a throat. But not, a griffin throat. A draconic throat. A throat that was about to funnel heats that could burn down cities on an army of a few hundred. Homemade shields made from wooden planks and scrap metal were aimed at the tiny figure of a dragon that could, and most definitely would catapult fireballs at them, as it reared its giant neck into the air. Expecting torturous flames to bellow down upon them, the griffin army prepared for their demise. Though what they expected did not come.
Instead of a painful fiery death, a word was bellowed across the land.
'Gilbo'.
Gilbo flinched as his name echoed through the freezing tundra that surrounded them. It came from no griffin, but a dragon. The invading dragon. A familiar dragon. A dragon who Gilbo began to recognize.
"Gorr?"
