Part 1, Day 1 (+66,792)

“Ponies built a society of Friendship and Love, but their neighbors found their beliefs… naive, to say the least.”

Gryphon Rampage in Small Equestrian Town

May 20th, (indistinct)

Horror struck the small Equestrian town of Acros yesterday, when Aya Coldcrest, a local gryphon, apparently snapped. In a rampage that lasted almost half an hour, four ponies were killed and nearly a dozen were injured before Aya was finally captured and arrested by the Acros Police Department (APD). She has been placed in short-term confinement pending her trial, but reasons for the rampage are still unclear. Some sources suspect a zebra infiltrator’s influence, but Aya herself refused to comment on…

(continued page A4)
_____________________________________________________________________

MAS Aids Confinement of Dangerous Criminals

July 15th, (indistinct)

After a recent uprising of crimes across Equestria, the justice system, formerly headed by the Princesses, has been overwhelmed. Several proposals have been offered for dealing with the masses of prisoners filling the country’s prisons, and a new innovation by the MAS has been put into action. Nearly a hundred cryogenic tanks have been constructed in a new wing of the small-town Acros Prison, and already some of the most dangerous prisoners across Equestria have been placed in cryogenic slumber until they can be properly placed on trial. Some of the killers already on the list include the Hawthorn Killer, and last month’s Butcher of Acros, responsible for six deaths and several attempted murders after her imprisonment.

(continued on page A2)
_____________________________________________________________________

It took me a minute to remember where I was, but when I remembered was just as stupid as when I’d been told. That stupid warden’s face, the stupid voice he made trying to be official… I remembered his words from earlier in the afternoon, but they felt like an eternity ago.

“Alright, Aya. In compliance with the new decrees from the department of justice… actually, buck this. You’ll just sit there wanting to kill me no matter how long I take.” He was right, but I was smart enough to not move when six separate Pinks had guns pointed at me. “The jails are too full, the department wants to free up more common space, so we’re sticking you and a bunch of other solitary freaks in some Ministry icebox. Feel free to resist, a corpse takes way less paperwork than one of these things.”

Naturally, me not being an idiot… I let them stick me in a box like an idiot. For something built like an egg , it was sure as hell not built to fit a gryphon. Once my wings were all nice and tucked in, they closed the thing up, the warden hit a whole bunch of buttons on some fancy-ass panel, and I got to watch my ass get iced over.

Seeing as I was still alive to think through all of this, I guess it worked. Seeing as I was awake, I guess the thing got turned off. But all I could see was white and... some little words?

/Good morning, Prisoner B2179 “Aya Coldcrest”!/

What

/You have been fitted with a PCMAS Reformation chip!/

the

/Any illegal actions will be recorded, and the Department of Justice will be notified, as well as a small neuroelectric shock being applied!/

FUCK

/After your sentence, the chip can be removed by any certified Ministry of Department personnel! Please say “I accept” to accept these restrictions./

Like I had a fucking choice in the matter. It was hard to move my beak, though, because it turned out I was still surrounded with ice. I managed it anyway. “I accept, you little shit.”

/Insulting the chip will have no effect, as it is not sentient, and may be seen as a sign of poor mental health by the court./

/Acknowledged! Your cryogenic pod is now being opened!/

There was a distant clicking noise, and the field of white I was in suddenly grew warm, like a summer breeze. White faded to brown, and I found myself looking at a scene I had been viewing just a few minutes ago… from my perspective. The brand new cryogenic jail was ruined. The pod across from me was shattered apart, and a pony’s bones lay half out of it. The one next to it looked melted, the next one was just empty. The entire wall of the building across the room was destroyed like a bomb had hit it, rubble destroying a whole row of pods, a drab, cloudy day visible outside. The whole place was worn, like it had been out in the elements for years. I would’ve called that impossible, but how would I know? I’d been an icecube.

/Error! Your awakening team is not present! Please proceed to the Warden’s office immediately!/

Yep, the words weren’t appearing in front of me, they were just part of my vision. A little arrow appeared on the floor to guide me on my way, but I snorted. Like hell I was gonna-

/Warning! Proceed to the Warden’s office immediately! Failure to comply will result in a penalty!/

Well… fuck. If there was one thing I knew about the prison system, it was that they don’t make bluffs. And I really did not want to see what they thought was a fitting penalty to give a murderer. Scowling, I followed the arrow along the aisles of the room. Almost all of the pods were destroyed, and the ones that some poor sod had been put in now held some type of corpse. Lucky me, I guess. At the end of the room was the door to the cellblocks, knocked slightly open by something at some point. I pushed it open, figuring it couldn’t be nearly as bad as it was.

Just the other side of the door was a pile of skeletons. Pony skeletons, in very recognizable clothes. It was a heap of dead security guards. Looking down, I picked up one of their badges. Winter Slush, unicorn mare. Judging from the picture, she didn’t look like anyone I’d tried to kill. Too bad for her, I guess.

/Warning! Proceed to the Warden’s office!/

“Yeah yeah, I’m going. Don’t lose your feathers.”

I walked down through the cells, glancing in as I went by. Most of them held skeletons of one race or another. Some held multiples. Whatever had gone down in here, it was bad. My heart nearly stopped when I looked up and noticed that one of the anti-riot ceiling turrets was out. Thankfully, it was perfectly still, otherwise I’d have been dead the minute I stepped in the hall.

The warden’s office was up some stairs, past a security door. There was obviously no guard to key me through, but what I did have was the key I’d picked up. Pressing it to the pad, I headed up the stairs and keyed myself once more into the warden’s office. It was a big office, with a massive window to let him look down into the common area below. In the center of the room was a suitably massive desk, the warden still present at it. Well, I assumed that skeleton was his, anyway. Same with the pistol in his mouth.

/Warning! Situation updated, some settings will change.../

/… /

/Situation status updated: Emergency. Some restrictions have been removed!/

That gave me pause. “Restrictions?”

/Restrictions removed: jaywalking; self-defense; disturbing the peace; noise restrictions; and 37 others. Some penalties have been altered. Calculating new objectives…/

So they’d restricted all of that. Wow. I guess I was supposed to be a fucking model citizen then, glad I didn’t swear earlier. I bet that was fucking restricted. Glancing around the warden’s office, it was pretty basic. There was a safe in the corner, but it didn’t have a lock. One of those terminal opened ones, I guess. Wandering over to the desk, I put my claws up on the keyboard, but that was as far as I got.

/Warning! This terminal is Department of Justice property! Attempting to access this device will result in a penalty!/

“Fuuuuuuuck.”

Just out of curiosity, I reached over and tried to pick up the gun in the warden’s mouth. I didn’t even bother reading the warning that time. It was pretty obvious. So, no guns, no finding out what went fucking wrong… what the hell was I supposed to do now?

/Objectives updated!/

“Huh?”

/New objective: proceed to the nearest department of justice building for further instructions/

Alright, I guess that was what I was doing now. At least it wasn’t too definite of a goal. Something I could work around, anyway. I left the office once more, starting down the stairs to that hole I’d seen earlier. Easier than finding the actual door. No sooner was I approaching the cryo room door when it got slammed open and a stallion rushed through. He clearly wasn’t expecting to see me.

“Gryphon!”

Grabbing him by the throat was more reflexive than anything. I was fucking tired of people calling me by my race before anything else. Unfortunately, that’s about as far as I got.

/Warning! A punishment will be issued!/

“What oh shit I - gRAAA!”

THe punishment was… well, I was glad I’d avoided the others. It was like being dropped in boiling water, or fucking molten iron. Every nerve I had lit up like a fuse. I could feel my body convulsing, feel myself screaming, but there wasn’t shit that I could do about any of it. When the pain stopped after what felt like forever, it took my vision a moment to get back to normal. I was on the floor, and every muscle in my body was wrecked. I’d have probably pissed myself if I hadn’t emptied out before the icebox. The stallion wasn’t much better, laying a few feet away gagging. Whatever had hit me hadn’t hit him, but from the looks of it my convulsions had just about crushed his throat.

I dragged myself to my feet just in time for another pony to run through the door. Another stallion, a unicorn with a shotgun in his magic grip. Green hide, brown mane, some sort of leather armor. He gave me a look, then walked right over to the stallion on the floor, kicking him in the side. “The fuck did you think would happen! Thought you’d get away? Thought we wouldn’t take off your fucking head just cause you’re worth good caps?” His magic grip grabbed a collar I hadn’t noticed on the other stallion’s neck, and said stallion froze like his life depended on it. “Well?”

“I-I thought I could get away!”

The unicorn laughed, and it was a cold laugh. “Hell yeah, you get far enough away, maybe we’ll just give up and leave, right?” He tugged the collar. “You know what happens if this gets too far from me, right? Tick. Tick. Boom.” With each tick he gave the collar a tug, until he leaned in and whispered the last word into the horrified pony’s ear.

Only then did the unicorn finally take a look at me. “And who the buck are you? One of those buckers who helps bucking runners?”

Rule one of jail: act. If you don’t know what’s happening, you do. If you aren’t confident, you are. I snorted. “Seriously? I helped you catch the fucker and that’s how you fucking talk to me?”

“Sure you did. The fuck was all that screaming then?”

“He ran into me and I spilled the shit I was carrying. It wasn’t exactly shit that should touch skin. Why the hell do you think I tried to kill the fucker?”

The unicorn didn’t stop glaring, but his gun lowered ever so slightly. “Right. Since that’s all done, how about I take this fucker and go on my way, and you go on yours.”

“Fuck that, I’m coming with you.”

The gun rose again. “Really.”

Quick thinking time. Time had passed, the prison was empty, I was dressed as a prisoner… “Some bots deeper in ‘arrested’ me, stole all my shit and put me in the suit. I was about to try melting my way out when your boy bashed the door open for me.”

I could see the runner’s confusion. The door had been open when he got here, I hadn’t spilled anything. Fortunately, the unicorn was looking at me, not him. There were a few tense moments of me wondering if he bought my story, then he shrugged. “Buck it. There’s a hole back the way we came. Follow me.” He went first, then the other pony, then me in the back. The collared pony was looking at me in confusion, but I glared and gave a quick throat-cutting motion. I didn’t want him getting me fucking shot.

The unicorn led us back through the cryo room, through the hole I’d noted earlier. Outside was another pony, red, this one with a military battle saddle, an assault rifle on each side. He was watching over half a dozen more ponies, earth ponies and unicorns. All with the same collar that the runner had been wearing.

The unicorn called out to him. “Hey, Junklamp! I caught him!” I admit I was surprised, somewhere in between where I met him and the outdoors, the unicorn’s voice had suddenly caught a genteel, Canterlot-esque accent.

Junklamp turned around, grinning, then stopped as he saw me. “And the extra?”

“Helped me catch him. Insisted on coming along.”

That clearly didn’t relax the pony in front of me, and I was certainly nervous having two seperate machine guns in my direction. The fuck was going on out here? Fortunately, Junklamp apparently decided not to perforate me, lowering his guns a bit.

“She gonna help with the shipment? Cause I’m tired of dealing with these fucks running off.”

The (yet-unnamed) unicorn looked over at me. “Well? You want to give us a hand getting these slaves over to town? It ain’t that far.”

Slaves. I remembered that word from old, old equestrian history. Some kind of minotaur thing, I think, keeping other races to do their work for them. Come to think of it, the unicorn had mentioned the stallion he caught being worth… caps? I’d figure that out later. Right now there were two ponies here talking about slaves as though they were a perfectly normal thing. That meant that at the very least it was something everyone in the area would know about. Shit. Not like I had a choice.

“Sure, why not?”

“Excellent.” The unicorn clapped his hooves together. “Introductions, then. I am Scrapheap, this is Junklamp, the others need no introduction. And you are?”

“Butcher. Local, but I haven’t been around in a while.”

Scrapheap looked curious, but at least he didn’t press it. Good. “Alright then, Ms. Butcher. Let’s set off then, shall we?”

Scrapheap led the way, with the slaves behind him and Junklamp’s menacing presence behind them. I just sort of… hung around the edges of the group. Looked around a bit. The sky was overcast as far as the eye could see, and the land… well, the land I remembered was lush and green. Even the hilltop around the prison had been richly forested. Now the area was stones and cracked brown dirt, with the occasional horribly stunted or plain dead plant. A wasteland.

Apparently I was looking around with too much interest, since Scrapheap noticed. “See something out there?”

I shook my head. “Nah, I just occasionally like to look around and remember how it used to look.”

“You seen pictures or something?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

That… honestly told me everything I needed to know about the timeline. Equestria had been panicking over zebras getting megaspells, the reason they didn’t want to also be worrying about dangerous criminals. In a worst case scenario, one or both of us fired, and Equestria was ruined. Looking around, that was a check. As for how long ago that happened, well, long enough there were ponies who’d never seen a green Equestria. Like I said, everything I needed.

“Hold up.” Scrapheap stopped at the head of the caravan, and the rest of us stopped by consequence. “You hear that?” Once he pointed it out, the distant sound of gunshots was pretty obvious. He glanced at me. “Could be raiders, could be scavengers. Hell, this close, it could be other slavers. How about you wing it up there and check it out, Butcher?”

Nothing I disagreed with. I really didn’t want the only ponies I’d seen getting shot, and I was eager to see what sort of other groups were alive out here. Also, well, I realized that it had been far too long since I went out and properly flew. I gave Scrapheap a nod, then spread my wings and took to the cloudy sky. From up in the air, the whole world opened up like a book. I could see Scrapheap and the rest down below me. I could see miles, all the way to whatever was left of the distant town. The source of gunfire was perfectly obvious from up here, a mile away at most. Soaring through the air, I went that way.

When I arrived, I found probably the most one-sided gunfight of my life. Four ponies sat on a hill, taking lazy potshots at a pair huddled behind a broken down wagon. Certainly an ambush, however it had started originally. My look taken, I honestly would’ve flown back to Scrapheap if one of the pony’s firing hadn’t noticed me.

“Look! A feather fuck!”

Suddenly there were two shooters aiming at me, the original pony laughing at his own joke. Well, laughing until I landed claws first on his face. I hate a racist, and I’d worry about the system later.

/Objective added: Protect Equestrian citizens (1 of 4 hostiles defeated)/

Or not, I guess.

The stallion I landed on was most certainly dead. There was a reason my fights in prison were attempted murders and not just fights; a gryphon’s claws are very good against meaty little ponies. Lethally so.

The next pony was still re-aiming from sky to ground when I pounced on him. One claw punched into his neck, the other into his ribcage, and I threw him into the mare who was just starting to look at me. A bullet grazed my ribs and I spun around on the other standing stallion. His eyes were wide and jittery; he was no doubt high as a fucking kite. Grabbing the first stallion’s gun (a shotgun apparently) I emptied all five shells before the warning about guns not being allowed popped up. Too late. Druggie was fucking shredded.

I turned around to the mare, who was just wrestling herself out from under her deceased buddy. I could’ve let her live, let her run back to whatever rathole she crawled out of, but… fuck, I needed this. There’s no describing to a clawless creature how right it feels when your claws cut into your enemy, you prey. It’s the feeling of your whole body doing exactly what it was always meant to do. Before the pony could make some attempt to surrender, to no longer register as an enemy, I leapt across the distance between us and drove my claws into her neck.

There was the moment of breathless silence that follows in the wake of a fight, as adrenaline wore off and my body realized that all of my opponents had been killed. Apparently it was a similar moment for my implant, because no sooner was I ready to move when the popup appeared.

/Objective Complete: Protect Equestrian Citizens (4 of 4)/

/This has been recorded/

That right there had to be the most ominous “good work” I’d ever heard, but the system wasn’t giving me anymore to go on. I decided to just assume that meant something good, and turned my attention to the bodies. The ponies I’d just killed were a culmination of everything that could cause a pony to be in shitty shape. Just at a glance, I could see evidence of most of them being strung out on drugs, on drugs when I’d killed them, and generally malnourished. Eugh.

Come to think of it, these weren’t the only ponies here, were they? Looking down the hill, I saw two pony heads swiftly jerk back down into cover. I could deal with them when I got back. Taking to the air, I flew back to the rest of the group I was travelling with. I let out a whistle as I came in so that Junklamp wouldn’t twitch and perforate me, then came down fast right in front.

Scraphead looked me up and down, taking in the blood. “So?”

“Four druggies and racists, attacking a wagon. They pissed me off, so I killed them.I think two survivors by the wagon, no shape to fight though. We’re clear through the area.”

Scrapheap shared a look with Junklamp that I didn’t quite understand, then looked back at me with a grin. “Actually, with an extra guard, we aren’t quite over capacity. Mind leading us on over there?”

It took me a minute to realize what he was saying to me. Right, he sold ponies. Looking at his “stock”, I doubted that many of them had been born into this situation. New slaves had to come from somewhere, but could I do that to two ponies I had nothing against?

I didn’t know them.

I didn’t care about them.

I looked at Scrapheap and said, “Sure.”

The group moved far slower than I flew, the shuffling hoofsteps of the slaves dragging their speed down to a crawl. After longer than I’d have liked, we were close enough that I could fly off ahead and land to search the bodies I’d made. The ponies I’d left, an indigo unicorn mare and a blue filly, were just finishing placing their dead in a hole when I landed silently by the ones I’d killed.

The druggies had less “pockets” than little niches in their shitty armor they stuffed things in. I couldn’t take their guns, but it turned out the system would let me take all the other things they all didn’t need anymore: things like ammo, booze, food... chems, even. I didn’t think I’d be allowed to pick those up, but here I was. They were also carrying a bunch of bottle caps in various nooks and crannies, which seemed pretty stupid, but I remembered Scrapheap mentioning caps so I took them just in case.

“Help!”

I hadn’t even realized that the others had entered the valley until I heard the mare shout. Looking down, I saw the two survivors backing away from Scrapheap and Junklamp. Looking at me.

Flying down by the rest of them, I landed behind the two ponies, setting up a neat triangle of people on my side of the conflict around the two who weren’t. Faking my best Griff-ish accent, I spoke to Scrapheap like a two bit thug. “Hyu need some help over here, bozz?”

A true poker face on that stallion, and his accent was back. He shook his head, “No, Butcher, I believe this young miss was just having some worries about the fit of her collar.” He was holding two of said collars in his magic, the same type that the rest of his captured ponies were wearing. “I’m just politely convincing her that it’s somewhat safer than the other dangers of the wasteland.”

“Dangers?” I grinned. “Dangers like hungry gryphons munching legs?That is danger. Danger I am glad to demonstrate.”

Apparently the gryphon act was fairly good. Good enough that the filly between us whimpered, and I noticed the distinct stain of her wetting herself. The mare with her… well, she was a better actor at least. “You think that just because some raiders caught us off guard I’m going to just give in to slavers?”

Ah. Druggies are raiders, and we were apparently slavers. Scrapheap grinned back at her. “Oh, I’m sure a fellow unicorn could let off a spell before I could stop you. But do you really think that you can cast fast enough to drop three of us and live?”

I didn’t like the thought of a unicorn blasting me in the face with her magic, but I took it that Scrapheap had done this more than I had. What followed was a matter of split second actions. Scrapheap took a step forward. The mare took a step back. The mare bumped into me. She spun around like only an on-edge pony can. Scrapheap leapt forward, two collars latched on from the backs of necks.

The two survivors froze, facing me as Scrapheap leaned closer from behind them. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

It was hard seeing the change in the two ponies’ eyes when they realized what had just happened to them. It wasn’t until sometime later that I’d realize they weren’t afraid of what’d just happened: they were afraid of what it meant was coming. The fight visibly went out of the mare, and I watched as Junklamp stepped forward to clasp a magic inhibitor ring around her horn.

Leaving Junklamp to watch over the old and new slaves, me and Scrapheap stepped over to check over the wagon. It was full of all sorts of scrap metal and other… junk. If I’d seen this before prison, I’d certainly have thought it was headed to the landfill. Now, apparently, it was a pretty good haul.

Scrapheap switched back to his normal voice and I followed suit. “Butcher, see what was pulling this thing.”

“Got it.”

I hopped up to the front, and stopped. The thing that had been pulling the cart… well, it wasn’t a cow, and it wasn’t a pony. I mean, I hadn’t seen a cow in quite a while, but I was pretty sure that they only had a single head, not two.

“Some fucked up cow thing, Scrapheap.”

He came around the end of the wagon, gave the thing a look, then gave me an incredulous look. “Seriously? You don’t even know what to call a Brahmin?”

Shit, got caught out. I shrugged. “We, uh, have a different source of meat back where I’m from.”

“I don’t want to ask, do I?”

“Nope. Speaking of meat, though...” I looked down at the cow. Weirdly mutated or not, meat was meat, and even in prewar Equestria it was near impossible to get a steak.

Scrapheap shrugged. “Knew a gryphon wouldn’t pass up a steak. I’m not leaving all this salvage out here for some scav, but it’ll take a bit to hook up the slaves to this wagon, so you’re free to try butchering that thing while I’m at it. I’m not waiting if you take too long, though.”

“Obviously.”

I blanked out what he was doing as I pushed my claws into fresh, red meat. No need for a knife here, that’s for sure. It was something I’d only gotten a chance to do once before, cleaning up meat. Cut hide from meat, meat from bone, wrap meat in hide… the whole thing was so lean it was making me drool. I’d probably grabbed a few dozen pounds of raw beef when Scrapheap called me over. Wiping off my bloody claws on the brahmin’s hide, I found that he had, true to his word, hooked up four slaves to the front of the wagon.

“You ready to move, Butcher?”

“Yeah, just gotta load this up!”

I tossed the bloody bundles in the back of the wagon, where the rest of the slaves were piled haphazardly among the salvage. Me and the other two were on foot, presumably to be more vigilant. I was still somewhat covered in blood, but my feathers kept it off me, unlike a pony where gore soaks right through fur and dries onto flesh.

With two slavers, a dozen slaves, and a skilled bluffer, we travelled once again through the wasteland.
_____________________________________________________________________

We travelled until nearly nightfall, because Scrapheap wanted to push to some sort of structure for sleep. We ended up at some half-blown-down pre-war house, the slaves locked securely in the only really intact room of the house. The wagon parked just outside, we three lit up a fire in the stone-floored kitchen. I got to roast up a lump of the beef I’d harvested (which was just as delicious as I’d hoped and remembered) and I was quite surprised when Scrapheap and Junklamp had some for themselves as well. Then Scrapheap left us to go give the surroundings a look.

I pulled out one of the beers that I’d looted from the raiders I killed earlier, which drew a curious look from Junklamp, the first not really hostile or suspicious response I’d gotten from him. “Where’d you get that? Also, you got some to share?”

“Raiders from earlier, of course. And sharing…” I pulled open my prison jumpsuit, the only place I really had to stash stuff. “I got some shit in here, yeah. Only one beer, some swill that might be booze, a bit of chems.”

Junklamp took note of a small part of my collection. “You’ve got Dash and Mint-Als? I know a trick with those.”

I handed over the drugs in question, thn sat back to nurse my beer and watch his “trick”. Junklamp popped off the vial from the Dash inhaler, popped in some Mint-Als, and shook the whole batch up. In a few seconds the mix went from orange to a sickly green, and Junklamp grinned. “We originally came up with this stuff to keep slaves complacent, but this way is just a bit more fun.”

His tone made me nervous, but he just popped the inhaler in his mouth and took a deep whiff. In a matter of seconds, his pupils swelled until there was no iris left, and the incredibly serious stallion started giggling like a schoolfilly as he slowly fell over onto his back. No sooner was he waving his hooves in the air then Scrapheap got back.

“Hey, place is clear. No easy ways for the slaves to get out and…” He cut off as he took in the scene. Me drinking, Junklamp giggling and batting at imaginary stars. “I see I forgot to mention something.”

“Yeah?”

“We aren’t safe, idiots. We’re out here in the bucking wasteland, in a small, raider-attackable group. I didn’t think I needed to tell you idiots not to get drunk or fucked up on drugs.”

I took a long look at him, then slowly slid my beer away as he sighed. “For the sake of Celestia’s fucked ass. Just save it until we get to town tomorrow, all right? I’ll keep first watch with this idiot.”

I nodded, and since I didn’t quite trust the two I was with, I winged my way up to what was left of the second story of the house. There was plenty of room for a lone gryphon to curl up on ratty old carpet, and thus I did.

Just as I closed my eyes, I got one last intrusion from a half-forgotten passenger.

/Daily Report:/

/Misdeeds noted: 3/

/Punishments issued: 1/

/Objectives completed: 2/

/Good deeds: 1/

/Report sent/

/Goodnight/

_____________________________________________________________________

Footnote: Level Up! (Level 3)

New Perk Added: Frosty - After so long on ice, other colds just don’t compare. Cold environments affect you 75% less, cold weapons are 30% less effective against you. Being cold does not make you more vulnerable to disease.

Personal Perk Added: Anti-Racist - Whether as a result of raising or experience, you hate racism with a passion. You are 20% more accurate and have a 15% higher critical chance when your opponent has insulted your race, and half that bonus if they've insulted another race in your hearing.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading!
For everyone who read my other story, it is still technically in progress, but I haven't felt inspired about it for a while. This story is entirely digital (so no copying over for me to do) and hopefully will get a bit farther.
The cover art is, of course, a placeholder. I'd borrow someone's art of a gryphon in a prison jumpsuit, but it's a bit hard because I haven't even decided what Aya looks like yet.
Until next time!

Edit: It took until chapter three to decide on Aya's appearance, but I finally settled on a rust-brown body, and steel grey feathers for the head. Of course, most of that is under the orange prison jumpsuit, which I have no real plans to remove anytime soon.