The Griffon and the Derp
“Attention, citizens of Griffonstone!” The arrival of a heavy-set dragon with a barnacled face and a squeaky voice came announced alongside a series of painfully out-of-tune notes bellowed from crooked flugelhorns. If it was possible to torture music, then these dragons were experts at it.
“Oh no, not this again,” groaned Gilda. This was the fifth time this week these dragons had barged their way into her partially-rebuilt kingdom to announce their ‘conquest’. So far, it was anything but a hostile takeover, as up until this point they’d only managed to commit minor acts of vandalism. “When will these dweebs learn?”
“Dragon Lord Garble: The Conqueror has noticed your continued resistance to his rule,” the dragon-teen continued. “We will not warn you again; if you do not submit to us, we will have no choice but to an... anhilet… anhillihet-”
“It’s annihilate, you scaly, feather-brained dolt!” Gilda yelled and rubbed her throbbing head.
“Oh yeah, annihilate, thanks.” It took several seconds of not-so-well-concealed snickering from his dragon cohorts to realize he was being insulted. “Hey, wait a minute. You’re making fun of me, aren't you?!”
“Geez, really? Whatever gave you that idea?” Gilda rolled her eyes. She had hoped the dragons would just knock over a few loose stones and be done with it, but she had a feeling that this was going to be a long day.
“Well, I just thought feather-brained meant that I was stupid, and I'm not really that stupid at all. I'm just-”
“Oh, will you get on with it already?!” a deeper, but no less immature voice yelled from behind him. Gilda couldn't see who it was, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it was the one in charge; a being who had slightly more brain cells than its underling. Indeed, pushing past the incompetent dragon, a slightly larger, red-scaled dragon with orange spines running down his back made himself visible. Gilda could tell that from his hunched pose and tatted wings, he was trying to make himself look intimidating – blissfully ignorant of the fact that his crooked, plaque-ridden rows of teeth popping out from his extended over-bite just made him look ugly instead.
The dragon was covered from head to toe in an assortment of random golden ornaments, consisting of various rings, bracelets, and an ill-fitting crown upon his head. “Listen up, losers!” the red dragon announced. “I am Dragon Lord Garble: The Conqueror, and from this day forward, all of Griffonstone is mine!”
Garble threw open his arms, closing his eyes to savour the terrified griffon screams to come. Screams that never came. Beyond a few disgruntled murmurs, the Griffonstone population was silent. “Didn't you hear what I said?!” he yelled in frustration, stamping his foot on the ground and crushing a palm-sized stone in his claws. “I said Griffonstone belongs to me! I'm gonna clean up this town, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
Gilda planted her face in her talons. “Yeah, that’s what your cronies said the past four times they tried to steal our griffon scones. Can’t you, like, do something already? We’re getting bored!”
“Ugh, fine!” Garble huffed, stamping his feet like a disobedient toddler. “You want us to do something? Oh, I’ll show you something alright! And yes, it sure will be something! Something huge, something terrifying, something-”
“Get on with it!”
Garble clicked his claws together. “Let ‘em have it!”
At first, Gilda just shrugged her shoulders, expecting some overly-elaborate mechanical device which was guaranteed to backfire on the dragons. The last time the Teen dragons tried to look intimidating, they’d ran through the middle of the street with over-sized clubs, only to find their own faces at the receiving end after tripping over Gilda’s feet.
But this time, the dragons had a secret weapon. One that made Gilda’s eyes go wide with terror. Her beak dropped open at the sight of it; a horror beyond what the likes of Griffonstone had ever come across. This must be a bad dream, Gilda thought, trying her hardest to deny the reality in front of her. They can’t possibly be serious about…
“That’s right!” Garble stated, bellowing out a maniacal laugh. “We have clippers! Extra-large!”
The mere mention of getting their talons clipped was enough to make the griffons scream, running in terror as dozens of teenage dragons chased them down, snapping the clippers at them. But the worst was yet to come. For the unfortunate few griffons who found themselves caught, getting their talons cut and filed to a small, blunt end was only the start; as once this was done, more dragons came along with bathtubs on wheels, filled with hot, steamy water.
Once a griffon was in the water, there was no escape. It was just too relaxing to even think about climbing out. The soapy bubbles, the gentle rubbing to massage all the dirt out from between their feathers and fur; it was comforting in the most horrible way imaginable.
So, this is how it all ends, Gilda thought to herself, gulping heavily. Not with a bang, but with a full course spa treatment. She shook her head, clenching her talons into a ball. No, she would not let it all end like this. Maybe it was her stubborn nature, or maybe she really did care about other griffons after all. Either way, the reason didn't matter. All she knew was that she was going to save her people from this fuzzy, warm and extremely comfortable fate.
“Hey, lizard breath!” Gilda yelled, pointing at Garble. Flaring her wings, she charged at the nearest bathtub-carrying dragon, slamming her fist into the side of its head and spilling out the tub’s contents, including a particularly fuzzy looking griffon who was gazing up at the overcast sky, mumbling something incoherent about the number forty-two.
Wasting no time, Gilda lunged straight for the next tub, ignoring the dazed dragon screaming behind her and plucking a smaller griffon—who was still squeaking their rubber ducky—out from the water. “The only thing that’s gonna be cleaning is me!” Gilda shouted with flaming anger, locking eyes with Garble as she pointed to herself.“And your clock is first in line for that service!”
Garble threw his head back with hysterical laughter, his partners in crime giggling along with him. “Is that what you griffons call a threat? I’ve heard scarier stuff coming from a hatchling!”
“And I've seen better hostile takeovers from chicks in their nests!” Gilda shot back. If Garble wanted to play the insults game, then he had picked the wrong griffon, for this was Gilda’s speciality. “Wieners like you couldn't catch a cold from a frozen plague monster if it spent a week with you under an avalanche. You act like a Dragon Lord, but you’re weaker than the skinny salamander I ate for breakfast! Heck, a little bird tells me there was a baby dragon who both saved the Crystal Empire and gave up his rightful claim to the throne for your current Dragon Lord! You think you even have a chance of competing with that? Man, if you’re the future of the dragon race, I've gotta feel bad for your Dragon Lord. I've had stains wiped from my hindquarters that put up more of a fight than you guys did in the past week; though it wasn't quite as ugly looking!”
Now it was Garble who was the subject of hushed chuckles, his fellow dragons unable to contain their laughter at Gilda’s long tirade of expertly crafted put-downs. The blue dragon who had heralded Garble’s arrival even nudged him in the side, saying “She’s got you there, boss,” which was not the smartest choice of words to prevent getting clonked on the head by said boss.
“That’s enough!” Garble yelled in frustration. “I’ve had it with these mother-loving Griffons in this mother-loving kingdom! Smoulder, Simmer, get a move on and unleash our secret weapon!”
“B-but, boss, you don’t mean-?”
“Of course, I mean it!” Garble cut off Smoulder with another slap to the face. “Release the hot springs!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” saluted Smoulder, running after Simmer, a yellow-scaled dragon girl much skinnier than him. Pressing down on a pair of suspiciously plastic-looking rocks that Gilda could swear were not there before, the ground started rumbling violently.
Feeling the sudden shift in earth beneath her hind-paws, Gilda flapped her wings hard, desperate to gain some lift, not noticing that Garble had an extra attack up his—metaphorical—sleeves. From high above, the broad-winged dragons soared, unleashing a bombardment of sweet-smelling balls with tough exteriors down upon the griffons below. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Gilda had to recognise that Garble was smarter than he looked. She struggled to stay aloft for several minutes, but her resistance couldn't last forever.
Soon enough, she too fell victim to both the endless barrage of bombs and the overpowering scents of citrus fruits that came with them. These dragons weren't using any old bombs; no, they were bath bombs. Upon hitting the water, each one exploded into an array of bright colours, unleashing the full spectrum of their olfactory rainbows to leave Gilda, along with any other griffon caught in the hot springs, floating around in a daze of reds, yellows and greens.
It was a sonic rainboom of relaxation.
I'm done for… Gilda thought, staring up at the sky as the last of the bath bombs fell. This really is the end after all.
“Excuse me!”
Gilda’s ears twitched. She blinked several times, trying to clear her blurry vision as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. Great, not only were the bath bombs cleansing all the dirt and grime she accumulated from the run-down kingdom, they were causing her to hallucinate as well.
“Excuse me!” the voice said again.
Now Gilda was certain she was going gaga: she was seeing little ponies flying around.
“Excuse me, are you Gilda?” the pony asked as it came into land. “I have a letter for- ooo, bubbles!” The pony’s eyes darted off in different directions, her attention distracted from the landing and causing her to trip over her own hooves, tumbling forward and slamming into one of the empty bathtubs; one which just so happened to be in front of a dragon as it flipped over onto her.
“Oh no, not again…” the dragon’s groan echoed underneath the upturned tub.
“What in Tartarus is going on here?!” Garble yelled, his cohorts all scratching their heads at the random appearance of this Pegasus pony.
“See, boss, this is an inhabitant of Equestria-” Smoulder began to explain with a raised finger, looking mighty proud of basic knowledge on pony kind – until, of course, the inevitable smack to the head with an over-sized rock came from a fuming Garble.
“I know what a pony is, you idiot!” he yelled at Smoulder’s face. “I want to know why there’s a pony interrupting my hostile takeover! I thought you said Griffonstone was surrounded.”
“It is surrounded, boss,” Smoulder replied, rubbing the large, red lump growing on his forehead. “I made sure we had dragons patrolling all entrances to the kingdom. Not only that, but I told every one of the guards to take mandatory nap time during their shift, so they can be well rested by the time the enemies try to get in. Trust me, I've got it all covered!”
Garble’s jaw hung low, astounded at how Smoulder’s competence in this task was even lower than he anticipated it to be. Even the griffons, many of whom were still sedated from their baths and beauty masks, managed to face-palm at Smoulder’s incredible ignorance.
“Oh, wow, I'm sorry”, the bug-eyed Pegasus said, now hovering over Smoulder’s head. “They just looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake them up.”
Garble’s body shook with rage. There was no way he was going to let a puny pony get in the way of his plans. Getting a good look at the mare, his anger only grew. With a grey coat, blonde hair and skewed eyes looking in different directions, he couldn't believe that his plans were being threatened by this. Taking a deep breath, Garble spat out a fireball at point-blank range, grinning at the thought of a now deep-fried pony.
“My, my, that’s some nasty indigestion you got there,” the pony said, having somehow dodged the fireball and slid behind Garble without him noticing. Instead, the flaming blast shot into the sky, colliding with a different, and unexpected target. A familiar Rainbow-maned Pegasus had finally caught up to the pony, calling the name ‘Derpy’ several times before finding her feathers set alight, forcing her to drop into the snow and roll back down the mountain she had just finished scaling.
“Have you tried eating muffins with milk?” Derpy continued. “They always help me when my belly’s aching from one too many of Pinkie Pie’s cakes.”
Much to the other dragons’ surprise, Garble’s posture relaxed, breaking into laughter and gesturing towards Derpy. “Okay, you got me,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Which one of you guys brought her here? Come on, own up! This has gotta be one of your best pranks yet. I almost thought a pony was a serious threat, and she’s just some dumb filly who doesn't know a thing about dragons! So, who’s bright idea was this?”
All the dragons looked at one another, each one shrugging their shoulders in bewilderment at Garble’s suggestion. Certainly, dragons like Smoulder were tempted to lie and claim Derpy’s arrival as their own doing, given how rarely Garble ever gave any other dragons praise. Alas, before he could say a word, Derpy started talking again.
“Oh no, nopony invited me here. I'm just a mail mare, you see,” reaching into her saddlebag, Derpy rummaged around and pulled out a letter, its messily handwritten address reading ‘to: Gilda of Griffonstone. From: Rainbow Danger Daring Dash, best Wonderbolt, Gilda’s BFF, most awesomest pony in all Equestria…’ the rest of the letter’s title was incomprehensible, the text getting smaller as the sender ran out of space for her self-aggrandising titles. “Rainbow Dash did insist on coming with me, but she got lost somewhere in the snowstorm half an hour back. But there’s no need to worry! Derpy Hooves never fails to deliver a letter, come rain, shine, thunder, lightning, snow, rain or…” she paused for a moment, staring blankly into space as she counted in her head. “Wait, did I say that last one already?”
Clearing his throat and regaining his serious face, Garble gestured at Derpy. “Alright, I've had enough of loser ponies or one day. Guards, get her out of my sight!”
At Garble’s command, several drowsy looking dragons surrounded Derpy, all wearing modified griffon helmets that loosely rattled on their heads, thrusting their long spears in the grey Pegasus’ direction.
“Oh, Gilda! There you are!” Derpy proclaimed, pulling in her wings and diving head first towards her recipient, dodging the ring of charging dragons who simultaneously crashed head first into one another – their plundered helmets jamming onto their wide craniums.
“Wha-what’s going on?” Gilda groaned, pulling herself out of the hot spring. Contrary to what she initially hoped, now was not an appropriate time for her vision to regain some of its focus, as getting an eyeful of dragon butt with foul smelling tails wafting in her face wasn't a pleasant sight.
“Stop right there, little pony!” the mooning dragons proclaimed, lashing out their claws to swipe Derpy out of the air. Gilda shut her eyes tight. Having to watch a Pegasus pony being slashed to pieces in mid-air was one thing, but having to do so while staring at multiple dragon buttholes was quite another.
One loud ‘conk!’ sound later, Gilda opened her eyes again to see Derpy handing her a letter, oblivious to the two knocked-out dragons laying on the ground behind her. She had completely missed Derpy’s last-minute spin out that had her crashing into the dragons with her hooves outstretched. “Here’s your letter, Gilda!” Derpy proclaimed. “Delivered on time, as the ‘Ponydale Post Promise’ provides!”
“Uuuuh,” Gilda stared at Derpy, trying to wrap her head around the speed of the unfolding events. “Thanks, I guess?” This was turning out to be quite the head scratching episode… of her life.
“No problem!” Derpy saluted, still holding the letter while her eyes darted off in different directions.
In return, Gilda’s eyes went wide, pointing to the bulkier dragons creeping up behind her. “Derpy, look out!”
The dragons leapt at the mail-mare, hastily beating their wings to maximise the speed of their high-impact body-slams, the full brunt of their bellies aimed for Derpy’s head – until, of course, Derpy took a single step forward. “What’s that, Gilda?” she asked, shaking her head to get her eyes back in line as the dragons behind her crashed; leaving two, identical, dragon-shaped holes in their wake.
For once, both Gilda’s and Garble’s expressions matched: both staring with wide-eyed amazement at Derpy’s level of agility. Of course, Garble’s bewilderment didn't last long, as soon enough he was back to yelling out a series of profanity-laced orders to his fellow dragons – most of which Gilda was glad she didn't understand. If it was possible to find that many holes to stick sharp objects in to, she didn't want to know about it.
Snatching the letter from Derpy’s hand, she offered some quick thanks and slid it between two back feathers. Now that the delivery was out of the way, it was time to take her revenge on the dragons and their wholesome takeover tactics. “Alright, you scaly losers,” she said, balling one of her talons into a fist and slamming it into the palm of the other. “Time to get skin cream ready, ‘cause your butts are about to be extra sore after the kicking I’m about to give you!”
Flaring her wings, Gilda took one step forward, having forgotten about the many bars of soap the knocked-out dragons had dropped. All it took was one misplaced paw step, and Gilda was sent sliding backwards down the Griffonstone streets, the letter flying loose from her feathers as she fell into another hot spring with a huge splash. “Dang it, not again!” she gurgled, spitting water out from her beak as she felt the relaxing suds consume her senses.
In addition, the soap bar she’d slipped on was kicked up into the air, colliding with Rainbow Dash’s face. “Okay, Derpy, now I'm ba- ARGH! MY EYES!” Temporarily blinded, Rainbow Dash swerved hard to the right, wiping the suds from her eyes just as she slammed into stone statue and falling back off a cliff for the second time that day.
This earned a slow clap from Garble, his optimism renewed now that he knew the griffons still couldn't overcome their biggest weakness. “Now to get rid of that pesky mail-mare, and my invasion will be complete!”
“Oh my gosh, Gilda, are you okay?!” Derpy cried, catching the letter between her front hooves as she fluttered over to the floating griffon.
“I'm blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles beneath the sea…” Gilda replied in a sing-song voice.
“Well, bubbles are nice,” Derpy considered, before shaking her head to focus on the task at hand. “But delivering your letter safely is most important! No matter what some nasty, mean-old dragons try to do.” She shot a dark glare at Garble. It was a look of anger, harsher than anything she had given to anypony, or anything, ever before in her life.
To this, Garble simply laughed. “Oh look, the pretty little pony is mad at me. What you gonna do? Sing songs about love and friendship and all that mushy stuff? You ponies are so pathetic!”
Snorting like a raging bull, Derpy dragged her hooves across the ground, her eyes burning with the flames of anger despite being unable to lock eyes with the object of her rage. “Nopony, no griffon, and especially no dragon is ever going to come between me and delivering the mail! Do you understand that?”
“I'm growing bored of this stupid game of yours, little pony,” Garble said, feigning a yawn of boredom. “Every dragon, pay attention! I want this pony out of my sight, right now! I don’t care what it takes, just get rid of her! Attack!”
This was a command which no dragon had any trouble understanding. Taking a deep breath, a quartet of feminine dragons unleashed a stream of fire from their mouths, with a fifth joining in to burn straight through the centre of the flaming cross. After five seconds of burning, and no sight of a body, the dragons stopped; high fiving each other on a job well done.
What they, of course, didn't realise was that their flames had never reached Derpy in the first place. She was already flying over their heads folding in her wings to drop down and bounce off their heads one by one. A group of larger dragons—larger by plundering, teen dragon standards, anyway—scrambled over one another, charging at the troublesome mail-mare with huge, two-handed weapons. With how much Derpy was wobbling on her hooves after the previous attack, they all assumed this would be an easy kill.
As things were, these dragons were never taught how appearances could be deceiving.
With each swing of their weapons, Derpy simply bent over in the opposite direction to the attacks, her eyes easily tracking each movement a dragon could make to slip through their guard and kick or punch at their weak points – which was usually around crotch height. When two heavily armoured dragons sliced their axes from either side, Derpy responded by sliding into her knees and throwing out her front hooves to trip them up. All those years of playing limbo on Nightmare Night were finally paying off.
Several dragons took to the air, bombarding Derpy with their soapy barrage. Flapping her wings around at odd angles—one always out of sync with the other—she spiralled up into the air, the bath bombs whooshing past her without making bodily contact – splatting harmlessly onto the ground beneath her.
Those dragons who weren't encumbered by heavy armour took to the skies, readying their weapons as they converged from both above and below, outnumbering the lone mare by at least ten to one.
Yet these odds were nothing in compared to this angry Pegasus. In their haste to use bath bombs to take Derpy down, they never considered why this mare had a series of bubbles for a cutie mark. As the bubbles floated up from the hot water below, Derpy rolled around in the air, punching and kicking each one to explode in the dragon’s faces, obscuring their vision to lead them to collide with one another. Within seconds, a massive pile up of scales and swords lay strung across the ground, growing larger with each fallen dragon until one mare reigned victorious.
Garble could not believe his eyes. How has my entire horde of dragons been defeated by one, pathetic, cross-eyed Pegasus? He thought, his left eyelid twitching with the anger.
“Uh, boss, are you okay?” Simmer asked, being one of the few dragons who had yet to go toe-to-toe with the mare.
“Do I look okay to you?!” Garble screamed in her face. “Get your sorry butt out there and kill that mare!”
“But sir,” Simmer protested. “We've tried everything but the kitchen sink to bring her down, and nothing’s working!”
With a frustrated roar, Garble kicked off the pile of rubble he stood next to, pulling out a conveniently placed kitchen sink, half buried in the ground. “There, you have what you want. Now get out there and use it already!”
Shrugging her shoulders, Simmer took the kitchen sink and ran towards the pony who’d invoked her boss’ ire, holding the sink upside-down as a makeshift bludgeon. Predictably, she didn't last long, with Derpy summersaulting overhead, grabbing her tail and throwing her to the ground – dropping the kitchen sink onto Simmer’s head in the process.
“Had enough yet, Garble?” Derpy taunted, stumbling forward from left to right as she waved her hooves aggressively at the dragon. “This is one derp you can’t out-derp any derp of the week!”
“I… what… you… how…” Garble stammered, his sanity crumbling under the weight of such an illogical turn of events. “Do you even know what you just said?!”
“I know you do, but what am I?” Derpy proudly retorted, forelegs folded across her chest.
“That freaking does it!” Garble screamed in anger. “As Dragon Lord Torch once said to me, ‘If you want roast annoying ponies, you’ve got to do it yourself!’” With another frustrated roar, Garble flew off towards the tallest tower in Griffonstone.
At first, Derpy let out a sigh of relief, thinking that Garble had taken the smart option to fly away.
“Oh no,” Gilda said, the realisation of where Garble was going breaking her from her stupor. “Not there, anywhere but there!”
Derpy blinked in confusion. “Why? What’s so bad about there?”
“That’s where all our best treasure is stored! Every bit of it in one, big pile.”
A gigantic explosion rocked the central spire, sending huge chunks of stone flying in every direction.
“Hey, Derpy! You around? I finally made-” Rainbow Dash’s third attempt at her reintroduction to the ~~story~~ the Griffonstone situation was, predictably, cut short by half a ton of tower blocks colliding with her, knocking her out of the air and tumbling back down the mountainside which she had spent the last hour traversing.
From out of the tower, Garble threw back his head and roared with enough force to shake the ground, burning the sky with huge jets of fire from his jaws. Now covered head to toe in treasure, he had more than quadrupled in size, only his wings remaining proportionally small. Taking to the air (with relative ease given his wing span), he set his eyes upon one mare who had become a thorn in his side today. “Garble smash ponies! Garble smash griffons! Garble smash basic sentence structure!”
“We've gotta get out of here…” Gilda said, trying to hide the quiver in her voice as she stared at the destruction unfolding around her. Showing emotions, especially fear, was a huge taboo in griffon culture. But today? Gilda had to admit that she was scared out of her mind at the rampaging monster she was so quick to dismiss earlier.
“Don’t be afraid, Gilda,” Derpy replied, patting her on the shoulder. “We still have a chance to save Griffonstone.”
“Save Griffonstone?” Gilda scoffed, forcing herself to show the usual uncaring attitude she gave to everything on an average day. “Nah, this place is a dump! We’ll just steal all the treasure and move to a new place when Garble isn't looking. What, did you really think any of us ever cared about this sorry excuse for a kingdom? You’re such a dweeb.”
“I remember the last time I took on a giant monster…” with those words, the world around Derpy sparkled and shimmered. But for Gilda, enough was enough. She was one-hundred percent done with all the shenanigans she’d been put through today, and flashbacks were far beyond what she was willing to tolerate.
Roundhouse kicking the iridescent backdrop, the emerging scene from the past shattered into a thousand pieces. “Now, you listen to me, Ditzy… Dotty... whatever your name is!” she yelled, grabbing Derpy by the scruff of her neck. “If you’re so good at kicking dragon butt, then stop fooling around with pointless trips down memory lane and get on with it, unless you wanna see what real griffon fury feels like! You hear me?”
Derpy gulped and gave an awkward smile. “Y-yes, Miss Gilda!”
“Good! Now, get out there, and don’t make me break the fourth wall again. I’ve spent more than enough treasure fixing it the last time Pinkie Pie visited – and let me tell you, it does not come cheap!” Her ~~threat~~ motivational speech now over, Gilda threw Derpy above her head and smacked her on the flank, sending her spinning like a buck-ball at high speed at Garble. With no time to object, Derpy found herself bouncing off a piece of Garble’s treasure, spiralling around the gigantic dragon as she tried to right herself – the perfect method of attracting a monster’s attention.
“Garble smash ponies!” he bellowed, swiping his massive claws at Derpy as she flew around him aimlessly. “Garble want all treasure! Pony no take treasure! Garble will garble you up for garbling his garbled treasure!”
As Derpy spread her wings to stabilize her flight path, one of her wandering eyes caught sight of Gilda, impatiently tapping her foot, no doubt waiting for her to bring this rampage to an end. She had to admit, she was beginning to share Gilda’s frustration in Garble’s acquired tendency to speak in the third person.
Closing her eyes, Derpy focused her mind, allowing the natural air currents to stabilize her flight. Remember what your mama told you, she thought to herself, momentarily forgetting about the angry dragon behind her. Now how did that mantra go? Derp is one? No. One is Derp? No. Derp is me? Ah! I am one with the Derp, the Derp is with me!
Snapping her eyes open, she barrel-rolled under Garble’s attack, grabbing hold of a ring and pulling it off his finger. In return, Garble shook his hand violently, using all his strength to be rid of the pesky Pegasus. Derpy let go, tumbling underneath Garble’s hand and provide a swift buck to his wrist, splitting a bracelet in two.
I am one with the Derp… A blast of fire erupted from Garble’s mouth, coming too late to hit the summersaulting Pegasus as she uncurled into a diving kick, starting a chain reaction of trinkets and ornaments popping off Garble’s back which shrank him more with each hit. The Derp is with me.
“Get back here and let me smash you!”
Over and over, Derpy repeated her mantra, avoiding each successive attack Garble threw at her, always too slow. One by one, the treasures popped off, Garble’s exhaustion growing as his size grew smaller.
This is impossible! Garble thought to himself. How can one clumsy pony be beating me?! Garble, the ferocious conqueror!
Even as he neared his original size, Garble still refused to give up. He studied Derpy as closely as he could, trying to figure out some pattern, some method to how she avoided everything he threw at her. Yet there was none to be seen. Derpy just kept stumbling around in the air like a drunkard after a night of heavy cider-binging. Eventually, after ten minutes straight of fighting, the last piece of gold was removed from Garble, reducing him to a shell of his former self.
A shell that looked no bigger than Spike, furiously screaming in a high-pitched tantrum as all other conscious dragons vacated the area. “Get back here, you losers!” Garble squeaked. “I am powerful! I am ferocious! I am not beaten yet! I'm-”
“In big trouble, little dude.”
Garble turned around slowly, looking up at the griffon who now towered over him. “N-now, wait a minute. I’m sure we can come to some sort of deal. We can work together, as Griffonstone’s new rulers! I can plunder all the treasure you could ever want! It’d be easy for us to make Griffonstone powerful, just like it used to be!”
Gilda rubbed her chin, pondering Garble’s offer for a moment. “I'm gonna say… no.” With a single flick of her talons, she sent Garble flying off into the sunset, his body glistening like a star before vanishing over the horizon.
“Okay dragon, put up your dupes!” Derpy said, holding up her front hooves in a boxer pose. “I can take on whatever you throw at me.”
“Derpy, Garble’s gone. You beat him!” Now it was Gilda’s term to do something unusual. She hugged Derpy. “Now, don’t tell any griffon—or anypony else, for that matter—what I'm about to say to ya, but; thanks for saving Griffonstone. You were totally awesome out there.”
“You got it.” Derpy saluted, her eyes wandering up. “Oh, hey, Rainbow Dash! Glad you could finally make it.”
Panting heavily, Rainbow Dash landed next to Derpy, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her mane was frazzled, her fur singed, and she had a big lump on her head; but overall, she was still relieved to finally be here. “Thanks, Derpy. I trust ya managed to get the letter delivered okay?”
“Oh, sure, there was no trouble at all.”
“Fantastic! Oh, there’s one more thing I also gotta ask before we head home.” Dash gestured over the scattered array of half-empty bathtubs, streaming torrents of soap bubbles and unconscious dragons laying amongst the ruins of the central tower. “What in Celestia’s name just happened here?!”
“It’s a long story,” said Gilda, showing little the amazement she felt behind her laid-back attitude. “We've had a slight dragon problem lately, but it was thanks to Derpy that we were able to sort it all out. She was totally awesome today! Along with my help, of course.”
“Oh no, I wouldn't say that,” Derpy rubbed the back of her head, cheeks flushing along with a bashful smile. “I just copied everything you ever taught me, Rainbow Dash! I bet you would've dealt with those nasty dragons without breaking a sweat. I'm super proud to be your apprentice!”
Derpy’s mention of Rainbow Dash’s mentorship caught the ears of the awakening Griffonstone’s population, their bath time trances to transforming into mass cheers about the incredible Rainbow Dash was.
“Uh, guys, I know I'm super awesome and all, but I don’t know what Derpy’s talking ab- WOAH!”
Before she could protest any further, Dash found herself being whisked away by a mob of adoring griffon fans, cheering her name as the master of Derp-fu. She briefly considered objecting, but decided it wasn't worth it, as even if she could be heard over the crowd, she had a feeling the stubborn griffons wouldn't listen anyway. For now, she would just sit back, relax, and receive the free ego boost.
“Dash never taught you any martial arts, did she?” Gilda asked with a sly grin on her face.
“You have your secrets, I have mine,” Derpy giggled. “Glad to be of service. Enjoy your letter!”
That reminded Gilda: she never did open the letter to see what Dash was writing to her about. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided now was as good a time as any to find out.
Dear Gilda, she read.
You’ll never believe what I managed to get Spike for his birthday! It’s a Replica Griffonstone idol to add to his little horde. I swiped it off some dumb teenage dragons the other day – not like they’ll ever noticed it’s gone. Oh, on that note, I think I overheard them saying something about wanting to invade Griffonstone, or some hayseed like that. Something about a big ‘clean up job’. You've got nothing to worry about, though! I know you’ll be able to kick their butts if they so much step foot into Griffonstone. Still, I figured I’d give you heads up anyway. Ponyville Post Office promises they’ll send their best mail mare to get this to you. I wonder who they’ll choose?
Anyway, don’t forget to write back sometime. Rarity says she can give you her best spa treatment the next time you visit Ponyville, and between you and me, it’s ultra-relaxing.
Your best bud forever, Rainbow Dash.
Author's Note
Yes, the Star Was reference was intentional. Add this to the category of fics where Derpy is the focus of the "Crouching moron, hidden badass." trope.
