Author's Note

https://youtu.be/6Xs3V5QjB0k

Kriegsreporter

Black became grey as I wheezed back into a resounding wail of pain from my body as I stared into tear-filled orbs as welcoming and brilliant as an arctic sea of blue, framed by a brilliant, angelic white face, but as she pulled away, the ringing in my ears making me dizzy and unable to hear, the grey returned and as I sat up, the mushroom plume and a hole straight to tartarus greeted me, sending me into a panic. I hyperventilated, unable to breathe as I looked around, seeing countless dead ponies, gryphons, and even zebras littered about the battlefield like broken dolls in cooling, blackening puddles that soaked into the ground. I looked down at my talons and saw the rapidly cooling crimson dripping from them, I could only scream, as tears filled my eyes and smoke filled my lungs.

"Where has compassion gone in this savage world!"

Gryphon Rein, September 9th, 1012 "Das Massaker an der Westlinie"

*

Kriegsreporter

*

An older gryphon sat at a desk in an office that looked more like a library with the countless bookshelves lining the wall with a great number of books from a great many authors. A pony with a movie camera nodded and the gryphon adjusted his notes before he looked up and spoke.

"Hello, I'm Walter Kralle, and those of you who study history might have seen my photos or read a few of my interviews with various soldiers, politicians, or even celebrities, but I feel I must tell a story. This is a story that will haunt me forever and it should be considered a warning for future generations. This is the story, as I remember it, of the great war."

*