THE SAVAGE SWORD

Chapters

SAVAGE SWORD
The Journey South
The Start Of The War Drums
Killed By Death

SAVAGE SWORD

The still blades of grass on the plains were rustled by the gentle stir of a western wind. In the midst of that forgotten land, the bodies of the fallen peppered the landscape. Remnants of a fierce battle that scarred the once pristine grounds.

A crow swooped from the sky, and hopped among the many dead. It stood upon the remains of a defeated pony. The scavenging bird tilted its head, examining what was once a mighty spectacle, reduced to nothing but fodder for itself. Caring nothing more for the corpse, the crow began pecking the eyes from it.

Long before the rooster called the morn, a light shone in the east. Not the radiant light of a new dawn, but the vicious light of roaring flames.

As the crow pecked away at the dead pony, loud shouts were heard, drowned out by the clattering of steel.

An errant arrow flew across the battlefield, and the crow was impaled to the ground. The land was not for a weak-willed scavenger. A truth known to the creatures of the fiery stronghold.

The ponies who occupied shouted loudly to one another, trying to organize an impromptu counter to the mercenaries who had shown up out of nowhere.

The captain of the stronghold fought bravely against two of the barbarians at once. Though fierce, they were no match for his mighty steel.

With a single swing of his gilded sword, the captain’s sparkling armor was dulled by the spray of blood. Both his enemies fell before him, giving sight to a new threat.

Staring down the captain was a one-winged griffin. Clad beak to talon in black armor, and carrying a sword nearly twice the size of his own, the pony could feel an ominous aura emanating from his new opponent.

The captain knew there was nothing ordinary, or seemingly natural about the griffin. Who or whatever he was, he was going to die.

The griffin charged first, raising his shield as he ran.

The pony deftly dodged the charge and the followup strike, both in one movement.

The griffin swung his massive sword over and over, missing the captain with every attack, but cutting through everything else.

Two of the stronghold guards were caught in the path of their duel, and were cleanly sliced in two.

The captain charged the griffin, angered by the sight of his mens’ demise.

The griffin swung his massive sword again, cutting through the legs of a scaffold.

The captain thrusted his sword at his enemy’s throat.

The griffin backpedaled, and parried the blow.

With the pony stunned, the griffin was able to land a glancing blow on his opponent’s helmet.

The griffin’s blow followed through and sliced apart the legs of a scaffold, sending many archers plummeting to the ground and impaling themselves on the broken wood.

Death was a luscious aroma to the griffin. Every taste of it was like the sweetest fruit. And the sight of a mass casualty was more satisfying than a night with the finest whore.

Ecstasy surged through the griffin. The kind that would never be satiated by a weapon.

Before the captain could recover from the blow, he felt his head grasped in a gigantic talon. His head was twisted around almost completely, and cut through by the griffin’s claws.

With a powerful slash, the flesh was rent from the captain’s head, as swiftly as the rind was peeled from an orange.

One last scream escaped the skull-headed pony’s throat, and the griffin ended the fight by throwing the captain onto the broken scaffold.

The captain landed with his fallen comrades, the shattered wood impaling his body and contorting it to grotesque angles.

The griffin continued his rampage, killing ponies with his bare talons. It didn’t matter how many blows landed on him, or what arrows hit him. It seemed the more he was attacked, the more vital and murderous he became.

One archer drew his daggers an leapt from the tower he was on, to drive his blades into the back of the griffin’s neck.

Before he was even partway, he was dropped upon in midair by a falling spear.

The griffin turned to attack when he heard the impact next to him, only to see a pony already impaled to the ground by a black spear.

With a flap of leathery wings, a bat-pony landed on the ground and collected his weapon.

The griffin twitched his eyebrow to the bat-pony, who smirked back. A subtle nod to one another, and they knew what was to happen next.

The bat-pony powerfully flapped his wings and took to the sky, while the griffin fought his way through the stronghold guards.

With every successive kill, the griffin’s mind was entrenched deeper in the ways he would impart his wrath upon the world. The horrible ways he would spread fear and slaughter to the creatures that walked the land, if only for the sake of knowing he was alive for it. And with every hit landed on him, that wrath grew.

The bat-pony dropped from the sky, impaling three consecutive guards on his weapon.

His griffin companion shook the dead from the black spear, tossing them all at the approaching guards.

Back to back, the two started fighting the encroaching horde, until they were pushed to the stronghold’s smithy.

The bat-pony was herded between two large furnaces, and dashed forward with his spear, cutting down the enemy directly before him.

Using his spear, he raked the blazing coals at his opponents, burning and blinding them all.

With his spear held laterally, the bat-pony flapped his wings and dashed forward again. He caught at least five of his opponents on his weapon’s length, and pushed them all into the roaring fires of the forge.

The griffin deflected the blows of his opponents with his shield, until he was able to push them back.

Taking the smithy’s anvil in his talons, the griffin impaled one guard on the massive horn of the tool, and smashed a second completely.

He discarded his anvil by heaving it at an approaching pony, smashing them against a wall. With the anvil gone, he took his shield and used the edge to bludgeon another pony nearly in two.

With the fires of the forge fueled by the bodies of his enemies, the griffin spread his single wing and shouted loudly. His dark armor glowed with the light of a thousand hellfires, sending fear through the ranks of the stronghold guards.

Every one of the guards knew they would not live to see the light of the next day, so long as the griffin was in their midst.

The cadaverous flames of the forge flew higher, until they engulfed the entirety of the stronghold. Any corpse and any object not consumed by the fire was looted. Anything else was left to the fire.

The griffin took his respite from the battle by sifting through the remains of the scaffold. He drove his talons into the still glowing pile of cinders, until he found what he was looking for.

The faceless remains of the stronghold captain were extracted from the ruin, and thrown to the ground.

Using only his bare talons, the griffin removed every jewel and gold plating from the dead captain’s armor, until it was rendered down to its bolts.

The griffin’s eye caught something else glimmering within the glowing ashes. With no regard to the intense heat of the embers, the griffin reached his talon in, and extracted the captain’s sword.

The bat-pony dropped from the sky, and landed with a thump.

The griffin sensed the presence behind him, and reached out a talon to the side. Without even looking, he caught the jar that was tossed to him.

“Wine. I figure we earned it after that brush at the furnace,” the bat-pony said.

The griffin answered by taking a sip of the wine, as he contemplatively examined the captain’s sword.

“It’s a bit sour. But, that was all I could find that wasn’t used to fuel the fire,” the bat-pony continued.

“Hm…” the griffin said.

“That’s one hell of a sword there. Never saw one made of gold before.”

“It’s a fake,” the griffin finally answered in any articulate way.

“How’s that?”

“It’s only painted gold. See?” the griffin said, as he scratched the blade with his talon, revealing the silvery steel beneath.

“Painted? Damn. For a second, I thought we’d make an easy few thousand bits fencing that thing,” the bat-pony said.

“It’s only to be expected, Fang,” the griffin said, as he held the sword so that the light of the fires reflected onto the dead bodies before him. “A warrior’s weapon is a reflection of themselves. This perfectly ordinary specimen was only made to appear special with a layer of glamor. The very example of the average noble.”

“You got all that from a sword, did you? What’s old Rose here say about me, Captain?” the bat-pony asked, as he held his spear beside him.

“A single stallion who overcompensates for his shortcomings,” the griffin said.

“Those are big words, coming from a griffin with a half ton of steel on his back,” Fang said, pointing to the oversized sword his friend was carrying.

“It’s my vocabulary I like to emphasize,” the captain retorted. He sheathed the sword, placed it on his belt, and turned to leave. “Let’s go. That fat noble will be wanting to hear about our victory.”

Before Fang could ask why the captain was taking the worthless sword with him, a voice suddenly called out.

“Captain!!”

One of the band of mercenaries hurried to face the griffin.

“What are you so flustered about?” the captain asked.

“Trouble approaching from the north! A windigo! And a big one!” the soldier said.

The captain exhaled quietly.

“It would seem we have to delay our appointment,” he said.

Knowing the drill, Fang flapped his wings and took to the sky, while his griffin friend calmly followed the soldier.

From his vantage point in the sky, Fang saw the approaching threat.

Lanky, shaggy, and emaciated nearly to bones, the beast was peppered with scars and arrows that pierced its hide. And it was racing to devour all that was left in the dead
stronghold.

Fang took his spear, ready to spill the blood of the beast at the captain’s signal.

Down below, the captain stood at the front of his assembled men, each one of them hungry for more battle.

In the distance, the sound of the windigo’s roar filled the plains. One moment, it was seen. The next, it was gone.

Windigos were known for two things. The first was their insatiable appetite, which only grew the more it ate. The other was its blinding speed. Some rumors said that they could turn into a gust of wind to catch anything they set their eyes on.

Whether that was true or not, the company was suddenly faced with the fanged mouth and branched horns of the beast.

Before the first soldier was bit, the captain clasped his talons around the monster’s horns and pushed it back.

The griffin glared harshly at the monster, twice his size and with a face like a deer’s skull.

The windigo growled fiercly and snapped again.

The captain blocked by placing his massive blade in the monster’s mouth.

Taking their cue, the other mercenaries surrounded the windigo, and began viciously attacking it from all sides.

Quicker than the blink of an eye, the windigo thrashed about, knocking aside all of the mercenaries. One unfortunate soldier was pounced upon and eaten alive.

As the monster feasted, the griffin attacked again.

The windigo was ready. It quickly brandished its horns and tried to impale the griffin.

The captain’s armor was all that saved him from an untimely end.

Fang dropped from above, and impaled the beast through the shoulder, making it bellow in pain.

Seeing the body of his fallen comrade gave the captain an idea.

“Get more corpses out here! Feed this beast!” the captain shouted.

Quickly as they could, the other soldiers ran to collect the bodies of the stronghold that had not been burned yet.

Fang and the windigo rushed at one another.

The bat-pony dropped and slid along the ground, holding his spear to cut the underside of the monster.

The captain took his sword, and thrusted hard.

The beast was only glanced by the attack, and bit the wingless part of the griffin’s back.

Pain surged through the captain’s body, making his desire to destroy the windigo grow tenfold.

Swinging his shield, the griffin struck the teeth of the monster, knocking several of them loose. When the monster recoiled, the griffin escaped its jaws and landed on the ground.

The first soldier returned with his corpse, and threw it to the ground before the windigo.

Not about to pass up the easy meal, the monster stopped battling the griffin and bat-pony, and collected the dead body in its mouth. It ran toward the other soldiers and viciously took their bodies from them.

Once its massive mouth was filled to capacity, the monster stopped running to quickly chew its food.

This was their chance.

With the beast distracted, the griffin rushed forth and tackled the beast to the ground.

Claws and talons lashed out and scratched opposing bodies, threatening to tear one another apart.

The griffin took his talons, and dragged them across the ragged flesh of the windigo, nearly exposing the skeleton beneath.

The two rolled back and forth, until the griffin was able to get the windigo in a shoulder lock.

With its chest exposed, Fang dropped from the sky with his spear at the ready, and shattered the monster’s icy heart.

With one last bellow, the windigo’s life began slipping away, and the soldiers all started hacking the beast to bits.

There was one less windigo in the world, and that made it a better place in the minds of every living soul present.

“Fang,” the captain said, “Get some more of that wine. We’re going to all need it after this.”

The sun had barely risen into the sky, when they reached the camp of the stallion who had hired them.

The banners were the first things they noticed when they approached. The guards at the front greeted them with the usual wary looks, ready to take them out in case they tried anything drastic.

The one-winged captain led his band to the noble’s tent, with Fang at his side. They passed by each one of the knights of the camp, in their polished armor and sharpened weapons, all seemingly unused.

Once they were inside the noble stallion’s tent, they were greeted by the fat, pompous veneer of their client.

Standing from the strategist’s table he was at, the full plate armor of the unicorn stallion quietly clattered beneath his rustling cape.

The noble and the captain locked eyes. The griffin presented the golden sword of the stronghold’s captain.

The noble nodded slightly, and glanced to one of his own knights.

The knight who was standing by retrieved a small chest, placed it on the table, and opened it to reveal the golden contents within.

It was just as they agreed. For their work, they were given their payment in exchange for proof of the stronghold’s defeat.

The knight watched as the griffin approached to collect his money. With a loud slam, the box was closed, drawing the knight’s gaze. When the pony looked up, he saw the griffin’s beak only inches from his own.

“Boo…” the griffin deadpanned.

The knight jumped backwards, nearly taking the tent down when he bumped into the side.

Each one of the mercenaries laughed at the sight, as the captain took their money and passed it off to Fang.

“I suppose your king will be pleased,” the captain said to the noble.

“The king is always pleased by successes and victories,” the noble stallion answered.

“Even if they weren’t earned by their own men?”

“The king does not have to know how his victories are won. Only that it was the expediency of myself and my company that won the day.”

The griffin rolled his eyes. Nobles were all the same. Each one wanted more glory to their name than the others around them. And always without getting their hooves dirty.

Not wanting to spend any more time at the knights’ camp than he needed, the griffin signalled for his company to leave.

“One more thing, griffin,” the noble said.

The captain paused.

“I don’t want to hear any word spreading about a band of mercenaries taking the stronghold in these lands. Do you hear?”

“Don’t worry. You won’t,” the griffin said.

“Indeed,” the noble answered.

The sound of metal unsheathing under the table sent the griffin to high alert.

Fang was the first to attack, by throwing his spear and impaling two knights right through their armor.

More knights appeared to attack, and were either easily killed, or dismembered.

The captain sliced one guard’s head off, took the severed head, and threw it at the noble’s face.

The noble’s horn broke under the pressure of the blow, and the dagger he magically held dropped into the griffin’s waiting talon.

The captain took the dagger, and stuck it through the noble’s hoof, pinning him to the table.

The only sound left was the screaming of the noble, which was quickly silenced by the griffin digging his talons into his throat.

“Listen well, because this will be the only time I tell you,” the griffin began, “I don’t give a parasprite’s shit about taking a stronghold, or slaughtering a windigo, or working with a company of knights. I do nothing for the glory, for the fame, or for the prestige it would bestow upon me. I do it, because I am a fucking mercenary! Not some spoiled brat who cries when someone else put on a pedestal. Your petulance has cost you dearly today. And I can only hope that your remaining soldiers have taken my words to heart.”

With one strong pull, the noble’s throat was torn from his body and thrown to the ground. With one last gurgle, the stallion was dead.

The griffin led his band past the remaining knights, who all stared dumbfounded at the creature who had done away so easily with their leader.

The mercenaries were led south, toward a new land of raid and plunder. Seeking nothing more than the thrill of the battle and the comfort of gold, ale and whores.

Author's Note

edit by https://www.fimfiction.net/user/209410/wingdingaling

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The Journey South

There was a sudden grip of terror in the south. Rumor floated on hushed whispers of a small band with the strength of an army, who left nothing but ruin in their wake. Whether the rumors were true or not, temples were suddenly ruined, and villages were left bereft of life and valuables. And with no survivors to tell of who or what had destroyed them.

There was one village, however, which seemed to be doing well, in spite of the tumult all others were experiencing.
Somehow, the economy of the fishing village of Mac Lir was suddenly well off shortly after the arrival of a tiny group of rovers who had come from the north.

The band of griffins and bat ponies whooped and hollered merrily in the town square, joined by many of the villagers, who celebrated the insurge of money their businesses had earned from the mercenaries’ patronage.

A great bonfire had been lit, and the shadows of the celebrators seemed to dance free of their casters, adding to the merriment. Then, all at once, the crowd gradually stopped.

As if from the flames themselves, a previously unseen dancer appeared. The black of her feathers and the red of her threadbare clothes blended so harmoniously with the fire, lending her to be a child of the flames.

Her movements were in perfect tandem with the bonfire. Every curve of her lean, toned figure undulated and gyrated with a rhythm that captured the hearts of every red-blooded male in the crowd.

Near the scene of the captivating dance, the one-winged captain casually exited the village chief’s hut. His armor doffed, he was able to let his muscles flex to their full bulk in the cool night air.

After the talk he had just had with the village chief, he was ready to collect his well-earned night’s respite. And to his everlasting joy and relief, Blackheart had begun her dance.

Before the fire, the griffin who wore little more than a scarf wrapped around her body continued her dance. Until her eyes locked on the captain, who was steadily approaching her.

Her eyes narrowed, and a smile crossed her face. Many who knew Blackheart knew that she was not a griffin to discriminate for want of a partner in bed, but only a few knew there was one she had given her heart to. And there he was, now at the edge of the firelight.

Blackheart danced her way toward the crowd around the bonfire.

One of the villagers found himself caught in the dancer’s gaze, and took a small step toward her.

Blackheart danced her way around him, gently brushing the tip of her tail under his chin as she passed by.

The next villager found Blackheart’s scarf snagged around his outstretched hoof, and found the the more the griffin danced past him, the more it unraveled from around her.

More of Blackheart’s body was revealed with every eternal second, leaving the crowd transfixed on her. And with one smart pull, Blackheart relieved her scarf from the pony’s hoof, and wrapped it around her body with one fluid movement.
There were so few between her and the captain now.

One last of the villagers tried to step to her, ready to claim her as his own.

Blackheart’s eyes flashed at the display of machismo.

She raised a talon and pressed it only a fraction of a centimeter into the pony’s throat, as she danced her way past him.
The pony turned with her, following her deadly dance. And with a sudden movement from Blackheart, the pony winced when her talon flicked up and nicked his face, drawing only a drop of blood.

The captain smirked. He had seen Blackheart charm her way out of even the most treacherous situation. This crowd was a pushover to her.

Finally, the two griffins met. This was the moment they had both been waiting for. After so long apart, separated by the battlefield, they were reunited.

Blackheart hovered her face tantalizingly close to the captain’s. She was ready to show how much she had missed him, but was suddenly stopped when she felt a talon like a vice around her wrist.

First, she looked to the smiling face of the captain. Then, she looked to her restrained talon. Her love had grabbed her wrist, just before she had a chance to drive her talons into his heart.

A twitch of the captain’s eyebrow said everything to her. He fully appreciated the greeting. Nothing got Blackheart off more than the prospect of murder. And the captain was at his best when his life was threatened. Truly, they were of a kind. A match made in Hell between two hearts of darkness.

“Dance with me…” Blackheart implored in a breathy whisper.

It was an invitation the captain gladly accepted.

As if some silent signal had been relayed, the entire village square erupted into dance. At the center of it all, the captain danced with Blackheart, more heated and furious than any other night they spent together.

Morning came, and Fang was standing in the deserted village square in the odd hours of the daylight. Before the captain retired with Blackheart for the night, he had been instructed to await the details for his next assignment.

Fang idled with his spear, and imagined Blackheart was still dancing around the fire. His musings were cut short when he saw his burly friend trodding toward him across the dirt paths of the village.

With a toss, Fang holstered his spear on his back and greeted the captain.

“What’s the word?” Fang asked.

“That’s all you have to say? No, ‘my what a beautiful morning? How was your breakfast? Did you sleep well?’” the captain asked.

“I know how well you slept. I was only sleeping in the next room, you know,” Fang said.

The captain smirked, and Fang smirked in turn. The captain was always like this after a night of passion. This time, he had collected another future scar from the experience, evidenced by the slash on his side.

“You’re going to be meeting with another company of mercenaries today,” the captain said, cutting to the point.

“You don’t think that us alone are up to the task?” Fang asked, his eye twitching indignantly.

“Not if we want to conquer the minotaurs without being wiped out,” the captain replied.

Fang paused momentarily. He knew too well the fury of minotaurs, having been caught in one of their stampeding raids before he had ever joined the ranks of his one-winged friend. It was an encounter he knew he was only just lucky enough to have survived. And he internally shuddered to think he would encounter them again.

“You’ll be needing Karns’s help to negotiate with the other mercenaries. And take Lobo with you, as well,” the captain continue.

“The greenhorn?” Fang asked.

“Yes,” the captain affirmed. “This simple assignment will be a good start for him.”

“Alright,” Fang agreed. “How do I find these other mercenaries?”

“You’ll know them. They’ll be the only yuan-ti for miles.”

Fang’s ears drooped slightly as he groaned.

“First the bulls. Now the snakes? What makes you so sure that those backstabbing psychos will want to help us?” he wondered.

“Because they hate the minotaurs as much as everyone else. And my discussion with the village chief last night enlightened me to an interesting bit of information,” the captain replied.

“Which is…?” Fang said, egging the captain on.

“The yuan-ti are at war with the minotaurs. And it’s causing everyone a great deal of grief. More so than any little band of griffins and bat ponies could,” the captain explained. “Nobody ever trusts a yuan-ti. But, it’s the minotaurs nobody would ever miss. That’s why we’re going to offer our help to the snakes.”

“And what if they don’t want it?” Fang asked.

The captain’s eye gleamed wickedly.

“Then, we’ll eliminate them both. The land only needs one company of marauders, after all,” he answered.

Fang felt he should have known that answer. And he knew his friend well enough that this was all he needed to know.

“I’ll get to it, then,” Fang said, before he shot into the air with a flap of his wings.

He did not even fly to his destination. It was only his surge of liftoff that he needed to leap over the rooftops and land before the local inn.

When Fang walked inside, his comrades were already awake and taking their breakfast of bread and ale.

Lobo was trying, and failing, to flirt with a buxom barmaid. Fang could not hear what was being said, but could tell that things were not going well for the young newcomer.

Before the barmaid could raise a hoof to slap Lobo’s face, Fang pulled him aside quickly.

“Sorry about him. He’s always like this when he’s had too much to drink,” Fang said.

“‘E ain’t drank nuffin’ yet!” the barmaid said.

“Well, he’s always like this anyway. Excuse us,” Fang said, guiding Lobo away.

Once they were a few steps away, Lobo spoke up.

“What are you doing? I was this close to landing a barmaid!” he said.

“You’ll have to try again later. The captain’s got a job for us,” Fang explained.

“Yeah? What?” Lobo said, barely able to contain his eagerness.

“I’ll fill you in on the way to get Karns. He’s coming too.”

They knew precisely where Karns would be. A gluttonous griffin like him would be right where the food was at its source.

Fang walked down the road, so that Lobo would be able to keep up with him. And it was during this walk that Fang informed Lobo of what they were to do, once they found Karns.

Down the street, they found themselves at the butcher shop. After asking where the scrap refuse was kept, the butcher pointed them around back.

A foul stench reached their nostrils as Fang and Lobo walked around the back of the shop. There, they found a pile of unconsumable animal parts. Laying on top of them, fast asleep, still wearing his pony hide armor and with a bone stuck in his beak was Karns. Next to him, his axe, which he had christened Wolf Blood, lay in the pile with scraps of fresh meat on it.

Fang knew that there was only one way to wake Karns up. He reached out and yanked the bone from Karns’s beak.

Before the bone was even past his beak, the gluttonous griffin chomped hard, snapping the bone in two. He stood up and brandished his axe.

“Take my breakfast, will you! You--You...Fang?” Karns said, as he regained his bearings.

Lobo was still relatively new to the group, and did not fully understand everybody’s quirks and idiosyncrasies. One thing he knew was that nobody came between Karns and his meal.

“What in the name of tripe are you doing here?” Karns asked.

“Captain’s got a mission for us. To train the rookie here,” Fang said, indicating Lobo.

“Rookie?” Karns said, sheathing his weapon and looking at Lobo as if they had never met before. “Oh. Him.”

Lobo huffed indignantly. Even if he was newer than most others, the least that the veterans could do would be to acknowledge him.

Karns creaked to his feet, and hobbled down the pile of bones. His rear legs slipped slightly, before he caught himself.

“Hangover?” Fang asked.

“No...Just a little indigestion. Pig’s hooves don’t sit too well with my stomach. Too solid,” Karns replied. “So, what’s the captain want anyway?”

“We’re going to negotiate with the yuan-ti to help fight the minotaurs,” Lobo answered for Fang.

“You sound a little too eager there, kid. Didn’t think a pony so wet behind the ears would want to face anything like them so soon in their life,” Karns said.

Lobo clenched his teeth, as Karns took one last bite of a pig bone.

“Alright. I’m in. Let’s go,” Karns said.

The three of them walked to the edge of town. All the while, Lobo scowled at the ground.

“Something on your mind, kid?” Karns asked.

Lobo only sighed. Moments passed, and Karns turned his gaze ahead, until his younger companion answered.

“How’s a pony supposed to get any prestige around here? How do you rise in the ranks to prove that you’re not just some greenhorn?” Lobo wondered.

“That? It’s simple. It all depends on how many enemies you kill. Or even who you kill.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here’s a good example: you see Fang there? Do you know why he’s second in command?” Karns said, indicating the bat-pony leading their march.

“No,” Lobo answered.

“It’s because he killed the captain’s brother.”

“He what!?” Lobo could not believe what he heard. In any other case, he knew that two creatures like Fang and the captain should have been bitter enemies. Instead, he had known them to be the best of friends on an off the battlefield. “Luna’s grace! Why would the captain do that?”

“It’s all about power, kid. The captain wants the strongest and the meanest in his band. His brother was one of the best. But, Fang was even tougher. After a half day went by during his duel with the captain’s brother, none of us were sure who was going to win. It was only that Fang had another wind in him, after his opponent had run out that let him win,” Karns explained.

Lobo was silent. A duel that lasted half a day was something he had only heard about in stories told by village elders. His head spun, knowing the company he kept was so dangerous, yet so powerful.

“You mentioned somebody called Luna,” Karns said, snapping Lobo back to reality. “Who is she? Some honey you got back home?”

“No. Luna’s more than a lover or a friend,” Lobo said, his face suddenly glowing. “She is the light in the night sky, who watches over all of her subjects. She loves and protects all who revere her, and offers her blessings to those who prove their worthiness.”

Karns smirked at the sight of the suddenly rosy Lobo.

“And the best part of all is when we die, she poses a riddle to us. A riddle whose answer we learn during our lifetime. If you’re enlightened enough to know the answer, she lets you into her kingdom to become one with the stars, and join all others who passed on,” Lobo continued.

Karns smirk grew as he shook his head. For Lobo, it was unusual for anyone he told to react in such a way. Whoever he told would always look in reverence and awe at the word of Luna, even if they had their own patron god or goddess already.

“I suppose it’s nice to have somebody to watch over you. But, the captain has instilled this belief in us all: only your friends can save you in battle. And with the proper strength, even a god may die,” Karns said, smirking grimly.

Lobo wanted to rebut. He wanted to tell Karns that Luna would never abandon him, and that they would soon forget him if he ever perished in battle. But, he knew that it would be so, even without telling off Karns.

Half a week passed by, and the three mercenaries saw little of their soon-to-be allies. Periodically, Fang or Karns would take to the air, while Lobo waited below, all of them keeping an eye out for any sign of danger from the ground below. Not that he needed to. There was a pretty fair view from the open plains they traveled.

It was soon that being on the ground proved more fortuitous. From the corner of his eye, Lobo thought he had seen something. What he thought looked like an unnatural bit of foliage, which had been pulled down from the treeline of a nearby glen of woods. To him, it warranted an investigation.

Up in the air, Fang and Karns scouted for any sign of the yuan-ti camp. But, their search continued to come up short.

A gust of wind brought something to Karns’s senses. A smell of a campfire cooking meat somewhere in the distance.

Taking it as a good sign, he flew around the bend, and was greeted by the sight of an encampment, nestled on a shelf on the rocky face of a distant hill.

He signalled for Fang to come closer. When his companion took a look, he agreed: that was where they needed to go next.

It was only Fang’s sharply tune sense of danger that alerted him to push Karns, as he darted away from a flying projectile.

For a moment, they thought it had been a spear. But the way that it spun, and the feathered shaft made them realize it was actually a gigantic arrow.

There was only one creature they knew of which could fire an arrow so large. Not wanting to risk a volley of minotaur projectiles, they both dropped to the ground and took cover behind a boulder.

Giant arrows stuck into the ground around them, while others shattered against the rocks that peppered the plains.

“We’ll retreat down the hill!” Fang said, indicating the boulders further down.

He and Karns both ran for the next cover, dodging the deadly rain around them, before taking shelter.

There was a dropoff at the foot of the hill. When they reached there, they would be safe from the minotaurs’ fire.

Exchanging a glance, Fang and Karns both knew that they had to make the run. Survival was their only option for success.

They bolted toward the dropoff. They knew they were nearing the edge of the minotaur’s range, the way their arrows were flying wild. Some, however, still flew dangerously close.

Fang’s sense of danger told him to move. With a flap of his wings, he burst forward, narrowly dodging the massive arrow that nearly pinned him to the ground.

Karns spread his wings, only just as an arrow came plummeting toward him.

There was a sudden blur above him, when Lobo intercepted the arrow, and rolled to the ground before his companions.

Without stopping, Karns pulled Lobo to his hooves and they both ran toward the dropoff after Fang.

There was one last wave of arrows shot at them, just as they all fell out of sight. Lobo, Karns and Fang all landed hard after a ten foot drop. Before them, they could see the giant arrows impaling the ground. Above them, they could hear more arrows breaking against the rocks.

“Move!” Fang said, as he flapped his wings and dashed forward.

Nobody among the band of mercenaries knew how Fang did such a thing, leaving Karns and Lobo to both run as fast as they could, without the aid of their wings.

They were safe enough anyway. The minotaurs could not see where their targets were running, and stopped their assault from their hidden vantage.

The three mercenaries all ran, until they were sure that they would not be followed. Unwilling to take to the sky and risk another attack, they took cover in another small glen of trees.

“Damn them!” Fang cursed, as he caught his breath. “How’d they see us first!?”

With all the arrows that had been fired, the minotaurs clearly had ready supplies. And lots of them. Such a thing should have been visible from miles away.

“They were in the glen to the east,” Lobo explained.

Fang and Karns both looked curiously, silently egging their young companion on.

“I noticed their camouflage they made from the ground, so I went to investigate,” Lobo explained. He paused a moment, then continued to relay what he had found there. “There must have been hundreds of minotaurs there. They had supplies wagons loaded with barrels and weapons. But, the good news is that they only had enough food to last to the end of the week. My guess is that they’re planning a raid to get more.”

For a moment, Lobo felt proud of himself. He had done well in a mission he had not even been assigned, and was awaiting praise from his two superiors. Instead, he was slightly dismayed to see Fang shake his head.

“They think that they’re going to win their little war quickly. They’re stockpiling all of their weapons and armor, ignoring everything else,” Fang corrected. A sort of enlightened smile crossed his face, before he turned to the direction he had seen the distant camp. “Let’s go. The yuan-ti will pay a pretty penny for this information.”

They all started walking, Fang leading with Karns and Lobo close behind.

“See that?” Karns said to Lobo, “That’s another reason Fang’s the captain’s second.”

It was another long trip to the yuan-ti camp. Upon arrival, they were greeted by the points of yuan-ti spears.

“Easy, boys. We just heard that you’re having trouble with some cattle. Thought we could help,” Fang said, without batting an eye.

“Go away! Yuan-ti need no help from you!” one of the guards hissed.

“You do,” Fang said, matter of factly. “You don’t know where the minotaurs are, what they’re planning or how they’re going to pull it off. So, I think your chief would be pretty happy if you let us in.”

“Speak your plans to us! We will tell chief personally!” the other guard said.

“You could,” Fang replied. “Then, you could tell your chief why you abandoned your post, and gave him information secondhand, most of which you’d probably forget along the way. That just means another trip back here to ask again what I told you. Then, when and if you finally remember everything, your chief’s going to want to know who told you, and ask you to bring us to him to verify everything you said. After that--”

“Go in! Go in! Talk to chief!” the guard said, rubbing his temple just thinking about the load of extra trouble following protocol would bring.

“Just tell chief you snuck in!” the other guard hissed.

“Will do,” Fang said, as he led Karns an Lobo into the camp.

Shortly after entering, they could tell they were in a world not their own.

The tents all looked like low domes, barely big enough to admit a pony or a griffin, but large enough for a yuan-ti to coil up inside.

Arrows were fletched from the wood of some darkened trees. The arrowheads were equally dark, and looked glassy.

The soldiers of the camp slithered between poles that were set only inches apart. Each feat was accomplished with incredible speed, and those who did not finish as quickly as their predecessor were met with the sting of a whip.

One yuan-ti sat beside what looked like an enormous dog, whose ears twitched at the sight of the newcomers in the camp.

Lobo warily eye the dog, fearing that if it started barking, the wrath of the serpents would rain down upon them. But, it was not so.

The yuan-ti chief’s tent was clearly marked so, by being the largest of the lot. And that was exactly where Fang was leading his comrades.

Inside the tent, the yuan-ti chief was overlooking a chart of the land. On it, he had circled, and subsequently crossed out all of the possible places the minotaurs were hiding, or where they would strike next.

With an exasperated sigh, he reached over to a bowl of live mice he had been snacking on, and lifted the bowl to his lips as if it were full of water. What he found instead was that the bowl was empty.

The yuan-ti chief hissed furiously, and looked around to see whoever had stolen the last of his mice. What he saw were three strangers. One of them, a griffin with an axe on his back, was just slurping down the tail of a mouse, then swallowed his mouthful.

“Boy. Those little feet are cold going down,” Karns said, as he licked his talons.

Between the intrusion and the presumptuous theft of his mice, the yuan-ti chief was angrier than he had been in days. Quicker than lightning, he slithered over to the intruders, fangs bared and sword drawn.

Fang quickly drew his spear and blocked the serrated blade of the chief. He dodged back after the next blow.

“You come to my camp!” the chief hissed, as he swung at Lobo, who jumped up to the table to avoid the blow.

The chief flipped the table, forcing Lobo to jump to the ground.

“You intrude in my tent!” the chief continued, slicing madly at whoever was within reach. He turned to attack Karns. “You eat my mice!!”

Karns simply blocked every successive blow with the broad side of his axe.

“This is how creatures die!!” the chief said, as he drew his sword back to thrust at Karns.

The chief’s sword was suddenly pinned to the ground by the flat of Fang’s spear.

“No disrespect was meant. But, we’ve been looking for you a long time. Karns here just needed a little extra nourishment,” Fang said.

“I’ll give you your nourishment!” the chief hissed, baring his poisonous fangs.

“And we’ll accept it. After we’ve told you how to get the better of the minotaurs,” Fang said.

The chief’s fury suddenly subsided. In a moment, the tent burst open, and more yuan-ti slithered in with their weapons drawn.

The chief hissed something in a language none of the mercenaries understood. Whatever he had said, the other yuan-ti were suddenly at ease, and backed away. However, they did not leave the opening of the tent.

The chief too sheathed his weapon, followed by the three intruding mercenaries.

“What is it you know?” the chief inquired.

“We know that you’re having trouble with the minotaurs. And we have information about them that you might find interesting,” Fang continued.

For a moment, the chief was silent. After what seemed an eternity, he spoke.

“What kind of information?” he said.

“The kind that doesn’t come cheap, I’m afraid. If you really want the edge on those cattle, you’ll have to pay.”

The chief clenched his teeth, sending drops of venom dripping to the floor.

“You mercenaries are all the same! Nothing but greed and blood to your kind!” he hissed.

“Same to you,” Fang casually said, earning a menacing glare from the chief.

Lobo watched carefully, ready to make a run for it when the signal came.

No such signal came. Slowly, the yuan-ti chief uncurled his lips and said very slowly, “What is it you know?”

Though long and arduous, the negotiations went precisely as Fang planned them to. They were walking back to Mac Lir, and with a chest full of treasure to boot.

Lobo thought that for a first real assignment, it had been easier than he thought it would. Even if Karns made him carry the heavy treasure box.

The smell of smoke reached their nostrils. In the distance, they could see that the village of Mac Lir was now in flames.

Author's Note

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The Start Of The War Drums

Fang could hear the screams, shouts, war cries and manic laughter as Mac Lir burned. No doubt, something had gone horribly wrong while he and the others were away. Now, he had one more thing to deal with upon the return.

“It just never ends,” Fang said to himself, before turning to Lobo. “I need you to stay here guard the gold. If any of that’s gone, you’ll be repaying it with your teeth. Understood?"

"Yes sir,” Lobo nodded.

Before Fang could pronounce the first phonetic of Karns’s name, the gluttonous griffin was already charging ahead screaming bloody fucking murder.

Fang always appreciated enthusiasm, and followed quickly behind.

Pandemonium spread like the flames that engulfed the village. Nopony knew precisely what had happened. But, it was clear to the villagers that they now had to defend themselves.

One villager armed himself with a crossbow, and took shaky aim against the raging barbarians.

A loud shout stood out to him above all others, and the villager saw a large griffin with an equally large ax charging him.

Quickly raising his crossbow, the villager fired a bolt right at his opponent. His aim, however, was not true, as his projectile simply bounced off of the pony-hide chest plate.

Karns repaid the nick in his armor by grabbing a bolt from the pony’s quiver, gouged his eye to hold him in place, and severed his head from his shoulders.

The villager’s body slumped dead, followed by his severed head sliding from his own bolt. Yet, his eye remained stuck to his own ammunition.

One last insult, and Karns ate the pony’s eye.

Another pony charged Karns from behind.

Karns did not even stop chewing, when Fang dropped from the sky and impaled the villager.

“Eating? Now?” Fang said, pulling his spear free.

“It’s not often I get fresh meat. I want this before the dogs and maggots get him first!” Karns said.

Three villagers charged at once.

Fang rolled his eyes and readied his spear to offer a demise that would spare them the wrath of Karns, when they interrupted his meal.

In a flash of steel, Fang was beaten to the punch.

Blackheart swooped from the sky and cleanly sliced one villager from his neck to his flank with her daggers.

The second villager swung his club.

Blackheart wove around the attack, and stopped face to face with her opponent.

The pony never even saw the dagger that gouge him.

Blackheart dropped to her knees and crossed her daggers above her head, stopping the third villager’s sickle.

She twisted to her feet, and spun with her daggers outstretched.

Try as he did, the villager could not keep track of the whirling blades through the ribbons attached to their handles. And it two flashes of steel, he could see only two words glaring on the engraved blades before the jammed into his temples.

FUCK--

--YOU

And in a flourish, Blackheart sliced outward, spilling what was contained in the pony’s skull across the cobblestones.

For a moment, Fang saw the engraved words on the blades. For the longest time, he had wondered why Blackheart named her weapons the way she did. Now, the name ‘Last Words’ started to make sense.

“Hello, Fang,” Blackheart said in a tone that was all too welcoming and friendly.

Fang knew better than to be fooled by such a friendly greeting from Blackheart. She was still hot from the three consecutive kills, and wanted to keep her drive going.

“Hello, yourself,” Fang dismissively said. “You know where the captain is?”

“You mean, you don’t want to dance? Must you be so cold?”

Without taking his eyes from Blackheart’s gyrating figure, Fang held out his spear and stuck a charging villager through the face.

“Sorry, but I really have to talk with him. It’s about the mission he sent me on,” he explained.

“He’s in the square, having some drinks with what’s left of the village chief. He’s probably expecting you to drop in,”

Blackheart said, feigning disappointment.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Fang.”

With a flap of his wings, Fang was high in the air and landed on the nearest rooftop, just as another villager charged Karns with a kitchen knife.

Karns had not finished his meal. A terrible rage filled his mind, making him boil over with bloodlust.

Taking his ax, Wolf Blood, he sliced off a leg of the pony he had been eating, picked it up and smashed the face of the villager who approached him.

Over and over he swung, beating the life from the villager until his eyes rolled back into his head.

Once he was finished, Karns continued decimating the villagers, ax in one talon, and whatever he could butcher from his opponents in the other.

In the relatively more quiet village square, a gigantic sword stood planted in the side of the village chief. A gruesome makeshift grave marker for the unfortunate pony.

The captain leaned casually against his own blade, sipping quietly of some wine he had found.

He waited. And finally, an arrival.

First came the flap of wings. Then, the familiar heavy clop of Fang landing from the sky not ten feet from the captain.

“You want to tell me what happened here?” Fang asked.

“The dead chief or the village burning?” the captain replied.

“How about both.”

“Only a simple example of cause and effect,” the captain explained. He glanced down to the dead chief, “This greedy fool threatened to withhold the money he would pay us for information about the minotaurs. Try as I did to negotiate, things turned sour quickly. When it became clear he wouldn’t be swayed by reason, I assured him that I would not be taken for a fool. In no uncertain terms, as you can see.”

“And the villagers turned on you as a result,” Fang said, finishing the explanation.

“Exactly.” The captain took a heavy drink from his jug of wine. “Now, tell me about your mission. Are we fighting the minotaurs? The yuan-ti? Or will we have to kill them both?”

“Just the minotaurs. Me and the others worked out a deal with the yuan-ti. By the end of the week, we’ll be eating prime rib,” Fang said.

“That’s what I like to hear,” the captain said. He finished his drink, smashed the empty jug on the village chief’s head, and slid on a leather cestus. “Let’s go and help the others. And when we’re done here, we’ll raid the chief’s wine cabinet.”

“Good stuff?” Fang asked.

“Exquisite. You can always count on the greedy to have fine taste in drinks.”

Smoke rose from the ashen ruin that was once the village of Mac Lir. What was once a humble fishing village was now a mass grave, doomed to be forgotten.

The captain stood before his company, surrounded by the smoking ruin of the village. Standing tall and proud, he spread his one wing widely.

“Before we head out, I want to remind you to never hold the line. You take the line!”

A refrain of shouts rang from the other soldiers.

“You hold your weapons!”

Fang and Karns both brandished their arms.

“You hold your cocks!”

Blackheart lustfully eyed the captain, silently reminding him who held what.

“But, the line be damned!! There will be no mercy for the cows!!” The captain raised his mighty sword high. “For blood!!”

“And gold!!” Lobo refrained.

That was exactly what company had needed to hear. All at once, they spread their wings and took to the sky.

What began as a wobbly trip for the captain soon smoothed out when he suddenly found himself caught in Blackheart’s loving grip.

The battle was about to be on. And the captain was looking forward to every bloody moment.

In a hilly plain overgrown with grass, the yuan-ti strategically placed spikes within the towering blades of green.

It was the perfect battleground for them. The minotaurs would never see them slithering through the grass. Nor would they see the spikes that had been set to gouge them through during their bull rush attacks.

One of the yuan-ti recalled how he was met by a bat-pony before, and kept a wary eye out for him or any of his comrades. There was no sign of them, and he began to think that they had not kept their word to help with the minotaurs.

But, he could not have been more wrong.

Up in the sky, the one-winged captain ordered his company higher into the clouds.

The company knew this drill. They all did as ordered, but Blackheart kept her grip on her captain.

Once the others had all disappeared, Blackheart remained level as the captain scoped the landscape for the yuan-ti leader’s tent.

“There!” he called.

With a devious smirk, Blackheart released the captain and swooped upward out of sight.

The yuan-ti overlooking the battlefield from beyond the chief’s tent saw something come suddenly plummeting from the sky. Readying to take on whatever threat was coming, they watched as a one-winged griffin spiraled to the ground, and landed with a thud that shook the earth.

“Are you friend to yuan-ti?” one of the guards hissed, as he brandished his sword.

“You can only wish I were. Now, let me in to see your chief. Unless you want to see how unfriendly I can be,” the captain said.

“Unless you are friend to yuan-ti, you are enemy!!” the guard threatened.

“I’m not your enemy either. But, unless you want it so, I must insist you let me see your chief.”

Far from compliant, the two guards both readied to fight.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the captain had hoped for such a thing. He gripped the hilt of his own blade and readied to attack.

“Hold!!” a voice sternly hissed.

The yuan-ti chief slithered out of his tent and shoved his own guards aside.

“He is the one the bat-pony said would come! Let him in, now!!”

Both guards were shoved to the ground by their chief, and the captain was admitted into the tent.

Inside the tent, four other yuan-ti were gathered around a strategy table. By the look of their uniforms, the captain guessed that they were lieutenants.

“So, this is the leader of bat-pony visitor,” one of the lieutenants said.

“I am. And I assure you that whatever embellishments Fang told you are completely true,” the captain said. “On to business: when exactly are you expecting the cows to arrive?”

“Today. They will be here by noon,” the chief grimly said.

“That doesn’t leave us much time,” the one-winged captain said.

“Enough to bring you up to speed of our plan,” another lieutenant said.

The captain merely huffed at te yuan-ti.

“You worry about your plan. I’ll be doing things as I see fit with my own company of soldiers,” the captain said.

The hours passed.

Silence permeated the camp.

The yuan-ti constantly inspected their armaments and artillery, keeping sure that everything was as it should be.

Among them, the one-winged captain sat idly sharpening his own massive blade. He knew that any moment the peace would end. It was only a matter of time.

A distant rumble rang to his ears. One so soft, it seemed only a stone rolling through the grass. But, soon the rumble grew to an unmistakable cacophony that would chill the spine of others.

The beat of war drums rang across the plains, sending all the birds and mice and other things living nearby to flee the scene.

With the sounds of the drums, the incredible crash of falling timber joined in.

Looking to the nearby glen of trees, the yuan-ti saw the treetops toppling to the ground. And with a flash of steel, the trees at the very front of the glen were felled with the single swing of many axes.

The minotaurs had arrived.

The captain smirked. The minotaurs were clearly confident they were going to win. Otherwise, they would not have announced themselves so brazenly.

The minotaurs were not through being so brazen, when all of a sudden a boulder flew from over the treetops.

Somewhere, a shout for cover sounded.

All yuan-ti scattered, as the boulder crashed to the ground, leaving a deep indent in the earth.

“Archers, ready to fire!” a lieutenant ordered.

The serpentine archers dipped their cloth-covered arrows into a vat of oil, ignited their arrows on a torch and took aim.

The marching minotaurs continued on, the shadow of another boulder flying over them once more. Nothing was going to stop their steady progress.

The closer they came to the yuan-ti camp, the more they noticed a strange smell. A familiar smell that they knew all too well after a successful campaign. The pungent smell of alcohol.

Ahead, a blazing line of orange shot from the ground and cut through the sky.

The minotaurs realized only too late they had stepped into a trap.

The fiery arrows peppered the ground, setting the grass ablaze.

The bellows of the bulls filled the air. Some succumbed to the fire, but many of the brothers in arms were only driven by the flames.

The first wave of attack charged through the fire, the blaze fueling the fury that drove them on. One particularly large minotaur charged with his horns flaming atop his head, ready to drive them into who or whatever was in his way.

“In spite of your best efforts, you only succeeded in making them mad,” the one-winged captain said to the yuan-ti chief, still sharpening his blade.

“Then you must do as you were hired!” the chief retorted.

The captain said nothing. But, with a slight turn of his wrist the broad side of his blade caught the sun, sending a glare of light into the sky.

From above, the clouds burst.

First came Fang, Rose in hoof pointed directly downward.

After him, the entire company of mercenaries followed, landing on the raging minotaurs like a hellish downpour.

“And now, the fun truly begins…” The captain said, as he brandished his massive blade and charged into battle.

Author's Note

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Killed By Death

Before the battle had started, the mercenaries in the clouds were preparing for the battle ahead.

Fang had been put in charge of watching over the others as they prepared. Everything was in order thus far. Every one of the soldiers was alert and ready for battle. Those who were not were making last second preparations.

Glancing to Lobo the greenhorn, Fang saw him take a tiny knife from his belt and prick it into his skin. After drawing his own blood, he smeared it over the surface of his wooden shield.

In the short time he had been with them, the simple wooden shield was what Fang had seen Lobo used the most. Looking at it, he had suspected it was made from a timber wolf, given what looked suspiciously like a green eye in the center. He had heard that it was called Nightfall. Or, perhaps it was Wrath. Or perhaps one of those names belonged to the small hammer, hewn from black stone that he carried.

“You might not want to do that,” Fang said, snapping Lobo from his ritual. “It’s never really a good idea to have your blood drawn in battle, no less before it even starts.”

“This?” Lobo said, indicating his bloody knife. “It’s an offering for the goddess. So that she can grant us all protection from the minotaurs.”

“I see,” Fang said, smirking partly from amusement and partly from disdain.

A sudden loud munching noise drew their attention nearby. Looking to its direction, Karns was seen stuffing his face with a talonful of mushrooms that he was pulling from a pouch on his belt.

“Get a look at Karns over there,” Lobo said, “Even before a battle, all he thinks about is eating.”

Fang’s smirk grew to a full grin. Lobo was still new enough to not know about Karns’s pre-war ritual.

“So, you know how you never interrupt Karns when he’s eating, right?” Fang said.

“Yeah. So?” Lobo replied.

“After he eats those, you don’t want to be anywhere near him for the whole battle.”

“Why?”

“They do things to him,” Fang said, in a low tone, “None of us are brave enough to try them, after we saw what they do to Karns. But, he says they’re magic.”

“What do they do?” Lobo asked, curious to the effect such an innocent thing could do.

“From what he tells us, they make him focus so much that he can see things that nopony else can see. The way he puts it, it’s what lies beneath the material world. And that while he’s there, he becomes even stronger,” Fang explained.

“How?” Lobo asked.

“I don’t know. But, there must be some truth to it. I’ve seen Karns have his whole side sliced open by a chimera after he ate those mushrooms. He acted like it just brushed him with a broom, and he started eating the chimera alive after that.

Halfway through eating it, he slipped into a kind of food coma and we patched him up. But, we never got curious about trying his mushrooms again.”

Lobo stared in horrified awe at Karns. The idea that a griffin all on their own could withstand such an injury and defeat a chimera all on their own sent chills down his spine. In the back of his mind, he decided that he was not going to be anywhere near Karns when the battle started.

From the ground far below, a flash of light caught the corner of Fang’s eye. He knew what it meant. Their time had come.

“This is it! Let’s fly!!” he shouted.

And they precipitated like a hellish rain, Fang leading the way.

The battlefield was growing closer. Fang only caught a glimpse of his one-winged friend charging into battle, when he was upon his first target.

The minotaur had no time to look up, when he was impaled from the top of his head, through his crotch and staked to the ground.

Fang vaulted from the top of his spear and pulled it free. All around him, the other soldiers fell to the ground, joining the slaughter.

Already the one-winged griffin was massacring the minotaurs, felling many with his enormous sword.

With one swing, he chopped straight through two minotaurs at once.

He was blindsided by a charging bull, and pinned to the ground.

The captain moved his head, dodging the downward thrust of an enormous dagger.

Once the dagger was plunged into the earth, the captain placed his back feet against the minotaur’s stomach and tore it apart with his claws.

The minotaur recoiled with a loud bellow, and furiously attempted another stab.

The captain grabbed the minotaur’s arm and threw him aside.

Both rolled to their feet and charged one another.

The captain went low, aiming for where he had torn into his opponent.

He felt the minotaur’s weapon plunge into his back, and loosed a furious shout. The minotaur had hurt him, and he was going to pay dearly.

Brandishing his talons, the captain tore into the bleeding gut of his opponent once more, slicing deeper and deeper, until he was able to disembowel the bull with his bare claws.

The minotaur bellowed loudly, and raised his dagger to stab again. He wobbled weakly, then fell to the ground dead.

The captain could see his sword on the ground nearby. But, before he could retrieve it he was stopped by a giant axe swinging at his neck.

He rolled beneath it, and turned to face his opponent.

It was the largest minotaur he had ever seen. Far more distinct than his size was that he was the only minotaur who was wearing a steel chestplate. The rest of him was covered in burnt bear pelts, peppered with yuan-ti arrows.

The giant minotaur raised his axe to swing.

The captain grabbed a dead yuan-ti and threw him at the minotaur.

With one clean slice, the minotaur cut the corpse in two. And from between the two halves of the corpse, he saw the captain charging him with the dead yuan-ti’s sword in his talons, and stab him in the leg.

The minotaur did not so much as wince from the blow. Instead, he grabbed the captain by his neck, headbutted him twice and threw him aside.

Lucidity quickly came to the one-winged captain, who saw the minotaur pull the sword from his leg.

The giant minotaur snorted and smirked at the captain, as if to appreciate the attempt to harm him.

His own enormous sword was right by his talon, ready to be wielded.

The minotaur paused and glanced to the sword.

And with a knowing grin, the captain picked up his own blade.

They were both armed now. And with that, they charged one another again.

Lobo crushed the head of one minotaur with his hammer, and broke the neck of another with the edge of his shield.

He blocked the charge of another minotaur and was harmlessly flipped over his opponent’s head.

Valiantly, he charged into the thick of battle.

A boulder from a minotaur catapult landed in front of him. And without losing momentum, Lobo easily clambered over it and leapt off to crush another minotaur under his shield.

From the ground, he swung his hammer to break the ankle of another bull, allowing the soldier fighting it an easy kill.

He spun to his hooves and blocked an attack meant for another soldier.

The soldier he had defended turned around and cleaved the attacking minotaur’s skull in two.

The minotaur was not about to die so easily, and removed the blade from his split head and swung his club wildly.

There was no technique or thought to the bull’s wild swings. As if any rationality had left him, he swung with reckless abandon, hitting ally and enemy alike.

Lobo had to raise his shield when the oversized club was swung at him. And with a loud crash, he was launched over the battlefield, above the heads of the fighters.

When he landed, Lobo found himself in the middle of absolute carnage.

Karns was literally tearing his way through each and every one of the minotaurs that charged him. Whatever his axe could not cut, it was ripped apart by his beak or talons.

The mushrooms he had eaten seemed to be doing their job. No matter how many times he was struck by the many bulls that threatened to overwhelm him, Karns simply continued his mad butchering.

He picked up one minotaur with a single arm and thrusted his horns into the chest of another.

As Karns was doing so, Lobo saw another minotaur raising his sword to attack.

Lobo took his shield, ready to defend the berserk Karns. But, he was too late.

The moment that Karns gored one minotaur with another, the attacks swung his sword, severing Karns’s arm partway between his wrist and his elbow.

Any other reaction would have been more natural. Instead of wailing or shouting in pain, Karns roared like a lion and gouged his beak into the neck of the minotaur who had dismembered him.

When he was done there, he turned around and sliced another minotaur’s torso into three even slices like steaks.

Before Lobo stopped watching, Karns took his own arm, gnawed one end to a sharp point and perforated another opponent until they spewed like a bloody fountain.

He saw his one-winged captain fighting furiously against the largest minotaur he had ever seen, and started fighting his way through the bulls to assist him.

Blackheart spun around to the back of one minotaur. With one slice of her first dagger, she cut his back open. With one slice of the second, she cut his spine out of his body.

The minotaur crumpled dead, and Blackheart took to the sky.

She swooped through the fray, spinning with her daggers held outward.

Not a single one of her brothers-in-arms was touched. But, the minotaurs they fought were cut down like a row of wheat.

A gigantic fist struck her hard in the face, knocking her to the ground.

Without missing a beat, Blackheart was able to clumsily land upright and slid backwards some three feet, when she saw a pitch black minotaur with long, shaggy hair charging her.

Blackheart easily leapt over his swinging halberd, and landed with the ribbons on her daggers trailing gracefully behind her.

The shaggy minotaur swung at the flying ribbons, and only just saw his opponent trying to gouge his sides.

He blocked and shoved Blackheart back with the shaft of his weapon.

Blackheart recovered with a somersault and leapt to attack again.

The minotaur blocked each attack from the flashing blades, as Blackheart vaulted over his head.

He took his halberd and swung it round and round, slicing out deep chunks of earth every time he missed his opponent.

Blackheart jumped and landed directly on the shaft of the halberd. She swung her daggers, obscuring the vision of the bull with her ribbons.

The minotaur reached forward, but grabbed only air.

Blackheart was gone. And not a moment passed when her daggers gouged into the neck of the minotaur. And with a quick spin, she sliced his head from his body as fluidly as if she were unscrewing a bolt from its socket.

She landed on the ground, and saw that her captain was locked in battle with the leader of the minotaurs.

After so many battles, she knew full well he was capable of handling himself. But, after watching him recoil after blocking the swing of an axe that was twice the size of his own sword, she knew she had to help him.

Ahead of her, Fang dropped out of the sky again, this time on top of a boulder that had been launched.

The boulder he knocked from the sky landed on a group of minotaurs, who were all immediately squashed.

With a flap of his wings, he darted forward, spearing three minotaurs in a row like a gruesome kabob. And with another flap, he dashed backwards, removing his spear with a sickening squishing noise.

Fang yelled over the thundering hooves of a row of charging minotaurs, as he dashed toward them.

None of the minotaurs had time to register the moment that Fang threw his spear through one of their heads. And in the moment they were distracted, he flew into the air and fell to collect his weapon.

Fang swung his spear at the first minotaur, slicing him through.

With his guts still spilling out, the minotaur attacked maniacally, trying to take his killer with him.

Another flap of his wings and fang was over the head of another minotaur, who was gouged by his own dying ally.

Fang raised his spear and blocked the downward blow of two minotaurs.

After nearly being driven into the ground by the combined force of the blows, he burst upward into the air and swooped back to strike them both.

When he landed, he spun and slashed them both with the bladed end of his weapon.

Taking his spear, he thrusted it directly into the chest of a charging minotaur, and swung the bull over him to squash another minotaur that tried to charge him.

After taking the two out, he saw his one-winged friend fighting off the minotaurs’ giant leader. Seeing how he was struggling so to keep his footing against his opponent, Fang decided it was prudent to help him out.

Blow after blow was exchanged between the two giants.

The captain swung his sword, and was parried each time by the minotaur’s axe.

It was like living his greatest dream. The slightest mistake would mean the end for him. And the mere thought of his life hanging by a thread, mingled with the hate and frustration for the minotaur who was grieving him so was like pure ecstasy.

The minotaur swung, and the griffin blocked.

The one-winged captain was knocked aside, and recovered with a clumsy roll.

Taking his sword, he blocked when the minotaur was upon him again.

He was ready this time. The captain pushed back, driving his elbow into his opponent’s kidney as he did.

The minotaur retaliated in kind, smashing his knee into the griffin’s face.

Neither backed away or recoiled from the blows. They continued to lock their weapons, knowing that whoever slipped was going to die.

In the griffin’s mind, a terrible rage boiled over. With the rage came a pure focus.

The minotaur felt his opponent flinch, and took full advantage. He shoved to the side, throwing the griffin to the ground. Only, that was not what happened.

The griffin anticipated the move and flowed with the momentum of his opponent’s shove. With that, he was able to turn and sever the arms of the raging bull.

There was a bellow that rang through the battlefield. The anguished voice of their leader sent a tremor of unease through the ranks of the minotaurs, and their will started to falter.

Their leader, however, was not defeated.

Though at a loss of his harms, the giant minotaur continued to duel, swinging his horns and slashing with his hooves.

The griffin easily dodged a horn and slashed downward, cutting the horn and taking a hood chunk of the minotaur’s face with it, driving his sword deep into this opponent’s shoulder.

The minotaur finally was down, taking a knee. He glared intensely at the griffin who had defeated him. And through the battle, he saw the griffin was joined now by Fang, Blackheart, Lobo and Karns, who all stood flanking their leader.

And with a small smile, he offered his last words.

“I don’t know whether it’s gods or devils you have on your side. Whichever, it’s clear who is favored in this fight,” the minotaur said.

The griffin scoffed.

“Gods and devils don’t favor me. They fear me. They keep me in the mortal world for as long as they can, so that I don’t overthrow them,” he said.

“Whatever it is that’s let you win, I’ll be waiting for you in the next world, little bird. And we’ll continue our duel then,” the minotaur said.

“Until oblivion,” said the griffin, before severing the head of the minotaur leader.

What remained of the minotaurs fled the battle shortly after.

The yuan-ti collected their dead and paid the mercenaries for their services.

Some time was taken to collect Karns, who had disappeared from the battlefield. As it turned out, he was taking the head of the minotaur who had dismembered him, and trying to make a helmet of the flayed skull. Stranger still, he was trying to fashion a new arm for himself from one that he took off of the same minotaur.

After convincing Karns that it was useless to try, he chomped his own arm in his beak and followed after his companions.

Fang flapped his wings and jumped high into the air, landing next to his one-winged friend, who was being tended to by Blackheart.

“So, where to next?” Fang asked.

“We’re going to Cimmeria,” the captain answered.

Cimmeria. The home of all dregs of all walks of life. From assassins, to thieves, to kidnappers, to saboteurs, to tax collectors, there was not an honest soul to be found there.

“Cimmeria? Nice. What’s it going to be? We raiding the house of pegasus nobles, or blowing our gold at the gladiator ring?” Fang asked.

“I suppose we could do one or the other as a diversion,” the captain said, grinning at the idea. “But, I have something more prudent in mind. When we reach Cimmeria, we’re going to free Ringo.”

Both Fang and Blackheart went silent at the mention of Ringo. His was a name that they had not heard since he was turned into a statue for the crimes he committed against both gods and ponies alike.

“But, Ringo was lost to us back in the west,” Blackheart said.

“True. But, as it turns out, the chief of the village we so recently conquered was on talking terms with many nobles of the region,” the captain answered.

“Is that how he got all that fine wine?” Fang asked.

“I would conjecture so,” the captain said, “It seems that one of this contacts has a penchant for black market antiques.

Among them, he spoke of a finely crafted statue that matched precisely Ringo’s description. And we are going to reclaim our lost brother.”

And so began the journey to Cimmeria, to reunite with one of their own who had been lost. A brother who had been punished by the gods. And to reclaim him, defy the divine.

Author's Note

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