Griffons and Poniesby PixxispadChaptersGriffons 1Griffons 2Ponies 1Ponies 2Griffons 1The paper felt smooth in his claws. It was a thick and soft parchment the type only nobles used. It seemed heavy, and as his eyes read over the note it only became harder to hold. Dear Esteemed Subject, Under the protective gaze of our majestic realm, it is with urgency that I, Gann Ljun, write to you on behalf of his royal and opulent majesty, Prince Ġiovanni Ajkla. This letter herby summons you to the royal court on the 15th day of this present month. Your presence is essentail to discuss a mater of utmost importance. It is his high graces beleif that your unquie talents make you indispensable to the task at hand. I trust your will heed this call without delay, so that we may countine to forge a golorius future for the relam and its inhabitants. On behalf of his majesty, The Royal Secretary, Gann Ljun. Gori liked the Apple’s Eye for one simple reason: it was quiet. The old bar-and-hotel was far from the center of town and so saw very little foot traffic. Outside of a few regulars, the place was almost always empty and those few griffons who came here were the sort to mind their own; even as the old dark wooden doors groaned when he entered, no one cared to turn their head, nor did they when the rusted legs of the bar stool screeched against the wood as he went to sit down. Not even the old bartender would say anything, only giving a silent nod of acknowledgement and pouring a glass of brown liquor in front of him. The alcohol itself was cheap and watered down, and it sloshed lazily in his cup. With any luck Gori would be able to enjoy this drink, then head upstairs to sleep and be gone by the morning. However, Gori was not a lucky griffon. George was a tall and hardy griffon. Half eagle and half lion, he stood a head and shoulders over everyone else in the room. He had a handsome dark face with a creamy-brown crown. Each step of his heavy yellow legs caused the floor to creak in protest under his immense weight. With a dark claw he hailed the barkeeper down before turning his large bluish-gray beak and squalling out ‘Gori!’ as he lifted his wide wing and rested its white underside on his shoulder which Gori promptly brushed off. ‘I do not know how you can stand this place; it stinks.’ George said, waving a talon in front of his nose as if swatting away the offending smell. A smell that Gori was more than used to. A noxious mix of opium smoke which rose and seeped into the moldy wood. ‘George,’ came Gori’s curt reply, not bothering to look at or even motion toward him instead taking a sip of his cup. George gave Gori a look and as the old griffon returned with his drink, he downed it in one go before asking for another. ‘Will you go see your mother?’ he questioned, ‘she has been writing, you know?’ George said accusingly, but with a look that said he already knew the answer. ‘No,’ replied Gori, still not turning his head, and taking another sip of his drink. George let out a long sigh before downing his newly refilled cup, ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘We will not talk about your mom or about how you left for three years without so much as a word. Instead...,’ he motioned a claw toward the door, ‘...I have something to show you.’ George gestured again with his head for Gori to follow him as he began to leave his seat. ‘Why would I follow you?’ Gori said finally finishing the drink he was nursing, downing the rest with a gulp. George gave him another look before chuckling to himself, ‘Why? Are you having too much fun drinking alone like some bum? You owe me this much after the way you left; it is either this or I tell your mom you are in town.’ Gori groaned aloud but got out his chair, leaving a few coins on the counter and following George out. Gori was significantly smaller than George was and came up to about his upper chest. Gori was half hawk and half puma. His smooth white feathers became black around the neck like a collar and his tan fur was smooth and slick. His wings were a rusty chestnut speckled with black. Despite his stature, he was incredibly strong, and his muscles were well defined and taunt. He always carried a sabre on his waist whose shiny metal hilt was well kept and polished. They exited the bar together and took a right down the dirt street and walked until they were a good distance out of town and into the outskirts. The entire time neither said a word; although George would often look back to make sure he was following, and every time would open his deep beak as if to say something before shaking his head and continuing. This would happen three or four more times before eventually they stood in front of an old overgrown farmhouse on top of a small hill. The roof had caved in at the center and the walls turned black from the mold and were drooping. The dusty windows were cracked, and sharp glass spilled out onto the grass outside as if they were broken from the inside. Tall weeds sprouted from the yard with sharp pricks. ‘Here we are,’ George said before stepping over the glass and pushing his way through the door which hung loosely on its hinges, ‘mind the glass.’ He said from inside. Gori looked at the building and hesitated, ‘If you are planning on killing me, I can think of a better place for it!’ He yelled into the house, George only laughed from inside, the foundation shaking alongside his booming amusement. With a quick look around Gori followed him into the house. The inside was surprisingly clean – or as clean as it could be considering the overall state of the place. Most of the debris had been picked up and piled into a corner and the floor had been swept and mopped. The little furniture that was still inside the home was free of dust and remarkable intact when compared to the rest of the house. The place was dark with long shadows which poured from the corners as if trying to swallow the place in their shade. The only light came from the gaping hole in the ceiling and a solitary candle that drooped to the side and sat on a table in the center of the room. As he made his way further into the house the floorboards creaked and bent under him as if they were going to snap apart at any moment and judging from the numerous holes in the floorboards they had before. George sat hunched over in a corner, his beak opening and closing as if he were talking to someone, but Gori could not see past his broad frame. Stopping, Gori said threateningly; ‘If you brought my mother out to a place like this just to ambush me, I swear I will claw your eyes out.’ Again, George let out a loud laugh before standing and turning to reveal a young fledgling who was veiled by the long shadows and sat curled up huddled in the corner. Gori fought the surprise from reaching his voice, ‘Who... who is that?’ He asked the words tripping out of his beak. ‘The thing I wanted to show you, look,’ George gestured for him to come closer. Gori gave him a look of someone who would rather be anywhere else, but nonetheless made his way over toward the boy. Once he was close enough, George yanked on the metal chain that was encapsulated around the fledging’s neck eliciting a pained squawk from him and pulling him into the light. The young griffon was half eagle and half jaguar. His face was gray with black feathers on the crown. He had dark wings, that mirrored his fur, with a white underwing. His reddish beak was large and hooked and his largely white legs had black stripes before becoming yellow at the feet which had long sharp talons. His time here, however long it was, had not been kind. His feathers had not been preened in a while and were matted and thick with dirt and dust while his fur was patchy and rough. ‘Is he not a pretty one?’ George said as he brought his dark foot to the young griffon’s wing and carefully but sternly opened them up, ‘Look at this wingspan! No doubt he was the talk amongst all the hens back home, eh?’ Under all the grime it was undoubtable that he was a very attractive griffon and his wingspan, especially for someone so young, was indeed impressive. Gori thought as George continued to poke and prod at the young griffon, who sat reserved and limp in his grasp like a doll and made sure he pointed out every detail he could to Gori. ‘George,’ Gori had said apprehensively which caused the Griffon to stop and drop the fledgling who would fall with an unceremonious thud, ‘what do you want form me here?’ Gori asked. George gave him a look as if he had not understood the question before he erupted into laughter. He turned away from the child and walked over toward Gori and said: ‘What do you mean, is it not obvious? I want you to buy him from me.’ Gori took a step back as if he were repulsed by the statement. ‘Is this what you been up to since I left? A slaver?’ Gori spat on the floor as if the word had tasted fowl in his mouth. George laughed and sat down in a chair next to the table. ‘Do not judge me, someone had to take care of your mother, and unlike you I could not just abandon her.’ When Gori heard that he raised a pale gray talon on the hilt of his sword and give an angered squall that rang off the walls while rearing up on his hind legs. ‘Be as angry as you want…,’ George started, undeterred by the show of force, ‘…it is the truth, that is why it pains you so much to hear.’ Gori gave him a look that said that he would like nothing more in the world than to run his sword through him but nonetheless relented and took a calming breath while he gave a look at the hatchling. Despite the disarmed and reclusive demeanor he had, the fledglings striking red eyes eyed him with sharp suspicion. ‘Even if I were the type to buy a slave, why would I? I am neither a trader, a noble, nor a plantation owner. I have no need of one.’ George gave him a smile of someone that already knew that they had achieved what they wanted, ‘because you owe me and owe your mother. She needs the money and I need to offload him,’ said George who grabbed a bottle of liquor from under the table and took a drink. ‘Why me? Surely there are better places to sell a griffon.’ Gori prompted. ‘Sure, there are, but the truth is I am new to this, and I do not trust myself to take such high-grade merchandise to the markets.’ Gori eyed the fledging again, ‘where did you even get him?’ George shook his head, ‘Does it matter?’ He stood up and walked over toward Gori, ‘you will buy him and then he will no longer be my problem…,’ he paused and rubbed his chin as if thinking of something, ‘…200 muniti’ Gori gave a dry laugh, ‘200?! Who do you think I am, Guze Bres?’ George rolled his eyes, ‘I know you have it, what else are you spending it on? Not your family for sure; look, you can kill him after this for all I care, but for once support the ones who helped raise you.’ Gori tonged the roof of his mouth before kissing his lips. He looked at the kitling who still sat motionless in the corner, his red eyes boring into him. ‘Fine, but do not bring this shit to me again.’ With a thunderous laugh that shook the house, George poured him a cup of liquor before he tipped the bottle upward and swallowed the rest. Author's Note Like I said, I am new to writing in general so please leave your thoughts and feedback! Griffons 2Gori tonged the roof of his mouth as he paced back-and-forth. He would occasionally stop and spare a glance toward the young griffon before starting again. The fledgling, for his part, stood motionless in front of him watching Gori with his striking red eyes. After ten minutes of pacing, Gori would stop and turn toward the hatchling and without a word he ushered him to follow. The first order of business for Gori was to give him a bath. The boy not only smelt horrible but looked so as well. The mare-in-the-moon was showing her full face so despite the hour the streets remained well-lit which made it easy for Gori to find what he was looking for. After navigating the narrow maze-like streets of the city, Gori and the boy would come across a bath house that was neatly nestled right at the entrance to the town as to be more likely to catch the eye of weary travelers as they made their way through. The bath house was run by the family of an old friend of Gori’s, Giada Banju, and Gori would rather have avoided the place, however given the circumstances, he could not wait till morning and would be hard pressed to find another place open that late at night. The door to the bathhouse opened with a quaint ring and not shortly after a Gryphoness walked in from a room behind the counter to welcome them. ‘Hello-,’ the words died on her lips, ‘Gori!?’ Giada yelled in surprise before covering her mouth and sending an apologetic look behind the curtain she appeared from. Giada had been described as a pretty and attractive hen. Half falcon and half lynx, she was small compared to most other gryphons but no less fierce. Her face was a warm, rusty brown with black spots. Her wings were a reddish brown, and her fur was a thick gray with faint black spots. She was always known for being remarkable well-keep and clean – a perk of working in a bath house. Every part of her was well manicured from her well-preened feathers to her smooth brushed fur. In a blur she had ran past the counter and scooped Gori up in a hug. After about a minute, she pulled away and planted a kiss on each of his cheeks. ‘Gori… I never… where…,’ the words fumbled their way out of her hooked beak, she took a step back, eyeing him up and down before taking a deep breath and smoothing out her feathers with her talon. ‘You should come in…,’ she said after a minute, ‘…my father would be happy to see you again.’ Gori shook his head and gave her an apologetic look, ‘I am sorry, I do not have the time.’ He said, twisting his neck and gesturing toward the hatchling behind him who during that entire time just stood quietly to himself. ‘Who is he?’ She said, her dark brown eyes moving between the two of them. ‘He is a-…,’ Gori paused and thought it better to avoid the truth, ‘… a kitten I found that I am taking care of.’ Giada’s eyes narrowed, ‘What is his name?’ She asked, Gori shrugged his shoulders. ‘So, you had time to take care of a random fledgling whose name you do not even know but not enough time to visit me?’ She questioned with a scoff. ‘Giada-,’ Gori would begin before being cut off by Giada, ‘Have you even seen your mother?’ Gori did not answer. Giada moved back behind the counter and grabbed a pile of towels which she silently placed on the counter. She gave Gori a look before walking back behind the curtain. After Giada had left, the kid and Gori walked into the bathroom which was empty this time of night. With a sigh that spoke volumes of his weariness, Gori sank into the warm water. The fledgling eyed him carefully as he bathed, but after five minutes of watching Gori clean himself, he decided that it was fine and began to scrub himself down with a rag. Although Gori appeared relaxed, he was anything but, and watched the boy from the corner of his eye. While Gori typically loved the quiet, this one was awkward and thick. His mind raced and the seconds slowed as they both bathed in silence. Having decided the quiet was unbearable, Gori moved behind the kitling and grabbed the rag from his claw. The boy froze under his legs as he washed him. After Gori felt he was clean enough, he gestured for him to open his wings and he did so silently. ‘What is your name?’ inquired Gori nervously as he washed him. ‘If you do not wish to tell me then at least let me know what I should call you,’ the fledgling remained still and Gori turned to rinse the rag when he spoke in a raspy voice that was dry with unuse, ‘Lsir’ the word floated in the air. ‘Is that your name?’ asked Gori, but he remained quiet. ‘Okay, Lsir…,’ Gori said tasting the name on his beak, ‘…it is a two-day journey to Bejta, can you make it?’ The young griffon remained silent but nodded. Satisfied, Gori finished washing the Griffon before taking him back to the Apple’s Eye. The walk back to the hotel was uneventful. The bar had closed for the night, so Gori made his way directly to his room. The apartment had already been cramped when it was just Gori, now it was practically incommodious. It had only one bed with a small night table next to it that sat underneath a window that looked out onto the street. There was a cushioned velvet chair in the corner that reclined slightly and was therefore the place Lsir was going to sleep for the night. ‘Almost everything is better than a floor’ Gori thought, so he found no need as to why he should give up the bed. Lsir, apparently sensing his thoughts, quietly moved to the chair and laid down. Gori watched him for a few minutes until he was satisfied the boy was at least good at pretending to sleep and moved to the bed. The bed protested under his weight, and moving his sword next to him so it remained in reach, Gori pulled the letter from his bag: Dear Esteemed Subject, Under the protective gaze of our majestic realm, it is with urgency that I, Gann Ljun, write to you on behalf of his royal and opulent majesty, Prince Ġiovanni Ajkla. This letter herby summons you to the royal court on the 15th day of this present month. Your presence is essentail to discuss a mater of utmost importance. It is his high graces beleif that your unquie talents make you indispensable to the task at hand. I trust your will heed this call without delay, so that we may countine to forge a golorius future for the relam and its inhabitants. On behalf of his majesty, The Royal Secretary, Gann Ljun. He read the letter again and stared at it for a few minutes before deciding he had had enough fretting and carefully placed it back in his bag. He spared one more look toward the fledgling, and with a shake of his head he went to sleep. Ponies 1Crimson Butte stalked the fortress carefully though her looking glass. The imposing fortress stood monumentally on the top of a hill and was backdropped by an auburn sky which gave the majestic citadel an orange hue as Celestia dipped her sun below the horizon. Its tall limestone walls snaked gracefully around the curves of the hill, encapsulating a large domed building whose peak could just barely be seen over its walls. She would pan along the battlements and would watch the tiny dots move back and forth like ants on top of the ramparts. Hundreds of griffons ebbed and flowed throughout the fortress as if they were blood coursing through its veins. The old fortress was once the home of terrestrials who had fled Equestria after the fall of Nightmare Moon. They had come to Griffonia in droves and built forts like this all over the continent. Some made their own communities separate from the Griffons, ruling over kingdoms made up of and ruled by terrestrials; others who did not have the means to self-rule lived as refugees, in ghettos and segregated quarters of griffon towns and cities; a select few terrestrials, however, had elected to rule over the griffons instead of coinciding with them and the fortress here at been one of those cases. It was built as the seat of terrestrial power over griffons and remained so for almost two decades before the garrison would be overrun by a mob of angry griffons and the terrestrial tyrants were hung from its mighty towers. In a strange sense of irony, what had once been a symbol of tyranny now was the griffons of this area’s only hope at salvation. Crimson found this curious twist of fate amusing and could not help but ponder the unpredictable nature of history. Crimson had felt sick that morning. The ponies had been sieging the fort for almost two months now and it consumed her. In the eyes of her superiors, she had been right on track, but to her she was entirely too slow. Every day that passed ate away at her and every minute gnawed at the back of her mind. Her grandfather had fought against Nightmare Moon. Had sieged fortress ten times the size of this one and did so with shocking effectiveness and efficiency. At the battle of Horseshoe Bay, he took the city and its fort in four days. At the pace Crimson is moving it will take her four months to take this one measly terrestrial fort that was garrisoned by griffons. She looked at the encampment through the looking glass again, and it looked back at her mockingly. Its limestone walls turned white in the morning sun which made them look pure and pristine as if it had not suffered the past two months under siege. The Griffons on its walls moved to-and-fro the dots bouncing with their steps as if laughing at her from its walls. She closed her eyes and rubbed them with a hoof. She walked past a long mirror that was in her tent and cringed at the reflection. Her deep blue eyes were red and bloodshot, and her face had dark and saggy bags. Her once vibrant red mane had dulled a little and was disheveled and frizzy. Her wavy brown fur was unkempt and felt heavy on her skin. She grabbed a comb and went through her hair, she made sure to part it in the front as to show off her most important feature: her long and sharp horn. After she had gotten her mane in a state she would be comfortable with, she made her way out of the tent and into the camp proper. The camp was large and bustling with tan tents that reached out as far as she could see in all directions; the encampment sprawled around the fortress in every direction as if it had sprouted from the ground around it; ponies moved like bees buzzing in a hive, each with a purpose and they bounced from place to place with hurried vigor. Crimson navigated the congested paths of the tent city with ease and gave salutes to ponies as she went by. After walking through the maze-like streets of the camp she eventually came upon a large tent that stood disconnected from the rest. The tent was large and ornate, with purple terms and golden suns embroidered on the sides. It had a wide awning that came out about ten feet and cast a cool shade in front of the tent. Two guards stood on either side of the door and upon seeing her they saluted and moved to let her in. Able Illusion stood as she entered the tent. They saluted each other and shook hooves before sitting around a large table that took up most of the room in the tent. ‘You look like shit.’ Able said, chuckling to himself as she gave him a pointed look. ‘You do not look much better yourself’ She replied, absentmindedly brushing her hair with her hoof. It was a lie; Able Illusion was a handsome stallion and notorious for keeping up appearances even in a military encampment. His violent violet mane was manicured and cut short, it was styled as to spiral out from the horn which was a common and popular haircut amongst unicorn stallions. His milky cream-colored fur had been brushed and washed and shone beautifully even in the dimly lit tent. His brown eyes looked her over and, with a sigh, he motioned for her to move her chair over toward him, which she had done. There he began running a hair bush through her mane with his hoof while using his magic to smooth out her coat. ‘The soldiers cannot have their commander looking like death. You must keep up appearances, it inspires confidence.’ Able Illusion said. Crimson Butte only grunted in response before resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes. ‘If you are going to sleep do so in your own tent, we cannot afford any rumors.’ He said but continued to brush and stroke her mane and fur. ‘I am not sleeping, just resting my eyes.’ She replied. Had her eyes been open she would have seen Able Illusion give her a look of distrust. After he had finished combing through her hair, he nudged her awake and stood up. ‘You got droll on my coat you know,’ he said in mock anger. Crimson wiped her mouth with her leg and gave him a sheepish half-hearted apology. Able looked as if he wanted to tell her something but thought better of it and instead walked outside the tent. After shaking the remnants of sleep off she made her way to a desk mirror that was in the tent and admired the now pristine and sleekness of her fur and mane. Satisfied with her appearance, she followed Able Illusion outside of the tent. Author's Note Hey everyone! I am not 100% on this chapter it feels so let me know why I feel that way or if I am just crazy. As always leave criticism please. Ponies 2Crimson’s eyes burned in the afternoon sun as beads of sweat trickled down her fur; the air had grown hot and sticky in a manner characteristic of the continent and so foreign from that of the cool mountain air of Canterlot, the city where she had been raised. Even after she had spent months in the sweltering climate, Crimson never truly got used to the oppressive heat which had felt as if it had been strategically designed to make the life of ponies as uncomfortable as possible. ‘It is like trotting through Tartarus,’ remarked Able, who wiped his brow with a hoof and silently prayed to himself that the princess would pull her sun farther away and grant them respite from the heat. The two would walk until they came across the cannons which sat menacingly aimed at the walls. A group of fifty or so ponies serviced the weapons, a few noticing them and putting up a salute which they would dismiss. After they had observed the engineers for a couple of minutes, the Corps Colonel of the Royal Engineers, Sturdy Load, would approach them. She was a wide and dense mare who was significantly shorter than average. She had bushy silver fur that was black with oil and dust. Her ashen mane was cut short and styled like that of a stallion and she had a silver ring ear piercing in her right ear. ‘Sir, Ma’am,’ she said with a salute to them both. ‘Colonel,’ Crimson responded as they returned the salute. ‘What brings you two over here?’ Sturdy asked, her gray eyes running between them. ‘We were just making our rounds, seeing how everything is.’ Able said. Sturdy Load sighed and started walking down the lines of artillery motioning for them to follow. ‘You could have saved yourselves the trip, not much has changed.’ Sturdy said as she walked. They followed and watched the ponies work on the cannons before she stopped and turned toward a cannon whose large cast iron barrel had a long and prominent crack that ran up the middle and splintered out like shattered glass near the base. ‘This is our latest casualty…,’ Sturdy gestured toward it, ‘…she gave out on us last night; the heat makes it harder for them to cool down and some idiot did not clean it properly.’ She turned to face them, ‘Not that it matters, these cannons have not made so much as a dent in the walls since we hauled the over here.’ She said spitting on the ground. General Verdant Cornet was lazily laying in a tub to cool down. He felt the warmth much worse than most, having grown up on the border between the Crystal Empire and Equestria where it rarely rose above a frigid 30 degrees on the warmest of days the Griffonian heat was like torture. He splashed himself with water, letting the cool droplets run down his green fur. As he soaked, he read a book on Musical Composition which floated lazily in the air in front of him and hummed along to the pages. Unlike many in his position, he had not wanted to be a soldier. When he was still a naïve foal, he had dreamt of being a composer and performing in the grand shimmering theaters in Canterlot; however, his father was head of the royal guard and had firmly pushed him into a military career and not wanting to go against the patriarch of the family he had agreed to do so. ‘Sir,’ a pony would call from outside his tent. Verdant swallowed a sigh and while putting down his book but remaining inside the tub would yell out ‘Come in!’ The tent opened with a flap and a young pegasus would enter whose eyes bulged upon seeing his commander in the bath and with reddening cheeks, he hurried out, ‘I can come back later, if this is a bad time,’ as he turned his back and started making his way out the tent. Verdant gave a chuckle which rolled its way off his tongue in the stereotypical northern fashion. ‘Nonsense…,’ Verdant said, ‘…now is fine.’ The pegasus hesitantly turned back, and with measured steps walked fully into the tent until he stopped just outside of the tub. ‘So, what is it?’ Verdant Cornet asked. ‘News sir, from Lord Amber Crest.’ He produced a letter from his satchel and offered it to the general who picked it up with his magic. Verdant tore the envelope open and made sure to eye up the pegasus as he unfolded the letter with a melodramatic pause. General Verdant Cornet, It is with great displeasure that I, Lord Amber Crest, must inform you of the unfortunate events that have transpired. You see, my magnificent forces were engaged in battle with a rather bothersome griffon army, and it seems that their uncouth determination, coupled with the most unfavorable conditions on our end, has led to a temporary setback in our strategic advances. I assure you it is a mere aberration, as my troops shall not be deterred for long. However, this very same griffon army, which I believe has had a lucky break in our recent engagement and is thus now full of the merriment of victory, is now marching toward your position, intending to lift the siege on their precious griffon fort, Xorti. Clearly, they remain ignorant of the insurmountable force they will face when they encounter your elite battalion. Nonetheless, it would be unwise to discount their sheer numbers and apparent tenacity. Therefore, I must order you, General Verdant Cornet, to make a tactical withdrawal from your current position toward the village of Festa where we may regroup. I trust that you understand the significance of preserving our troops for the many battles ahead, rather than engaging in a futile standoff with these creatures. I expect your immediate compliance with this order, and I shall require an update on your progress as soon as possible. Remember, our ultimate victory shall not be marred by this temporary inconvenience, and her majesty’s will shall be done in the end. Signed, Lord Amber Crest Verdant tore it up in anger. ‘That idiotic… Does he have any idea… How does one even manage…’ he swore to himself loudly, falling angrily in his bath and splashing water on the pegasus messenger who stood still with his eyes cast downward. After a few minutes, the tantrum would subside and with a calm apology toward his guest, he would dismiss the pegasus who would give him a hasty salute and all but fly out of the tent. With most of the water now outside the tub, Verdant would get out, dry himself, and sit heavily on the end of his bed. ‘How could I tell this army to retreat?’ he thought to himself. Having sat on the bed for twelve minutes, Verdant Cornet felt as if he could not think inside of the tent and needed some fresh air so, using his magic to pull his tan mane back into a bun, he shot up and marched outside. He walked around the camp absently while muttering to himself. As he walked, Verdant watched the soldiers, who had sat sprawled out wherever they could find shade. A group of stallions had chosen to lay about in the grass underneath a tall and wide tree whose dry leaves crackled in the wind. One of the ponies, an orange stallion with a beige mane, saw him and quickly snapped into a quick salute while simultaneously nudging his friend who had apparently fallen asleep and awoke with a start, looked around, and upon seeing everyone else standing at attention quickly followed suit tripping over his gear and stumbling forward a few steps before righting himself. Verdant put them at ease. When he did not leave the orange one spoke up, in the soft but stern manner that only a soldier could, a questioning ‘Sir?’ Verdant smiled at the soldiers, which seemed to have calmed them a bit and asked: ‘What do you think of this siege?’ The three looked at each other confused. A gray stallion, the one who had been asleep, sensing that no one else was going to answer responded. ‘I think it is great sir, the griffons have been quiet for a while now so they should be close to breaking…,’ and with a crooked smirk that revealed a gap in the right side of his mouth he added, ‘…I just wish we can get to them sooner.’ Verdant watched to other two stallions nod in agreement, ‘Is this the consensus around camp then?’ He asked. ‘Yes sir,’ the gray stallion responded. ‘Well then, you should be careful what you wish for,’ and with that Verdant Cornet said his goodbyes and continued to walk through the camp. Author's Note The plan is to write two Griffon chapters and two Pony ones and just alternate between the two. So the next two chapters will be a continuation of the first two and the next two after those will continue where this left off.
Griffons 1The paper felt smooth in his claws. It was a thick and soft parchment the type only nobles used. It seemed heavy, and as his eyes read over the note it only became harder to hold. Dear Esteemed Subject, Under the protective gaze of our majestic realm, it is with urgency that I, Gann Ljun, write to you on behalf of his royal and opulent majesty, Prince Ġiovanni Ajkla. This letter herby summons you to the royal court on the 15th day of this present month. Your presence is essentail to discuss a mater of utmost importance. It is his high graces beleif that your unquie talents make you indispensable to the task at hand. I trust your will heed this call without delay, so that we may countine to forge a golorius future for the relam and its inhabitants. On behalf of his majesty, The Royal Secretary, Gann Ljun. Gori liked the Apple’s Eye for one simple reason: it was quiet. The old bar-and-hotel was far from the center of town and so saw very little foot traffic. Outside of a few regulars, the place was almost always empty and those few griffons who came here were the sort to mind their own; even as the old dark wooden doors groaned when he entered, no one cared to turn their head, nor did they when the rusted legs of the bar stool screeched against the wood as he went to sit down. Not even the old bartender would say anything, only giving a silent nod of acknowledgement and pouring a glass of brown liquor in front of him. The alcohol itself was cheap and watered down, and it sloshed lazily in his cup. With any luck Gori would be able to enjoy this drink, then head upstairs to sleep and be gone by the morning. However, Gori was not a lucky griffon. George was a tall and hardy griffon. Half eagle and half lion, he stood a head and shoulders over everyone else in the room. He had a handsome dark face with a creamy-brown crown. Each step of his heavy yellow legs caused the floor to creak in protest under his immense weight. With a dark claw he hailed the barkeeper down before turning his large bluish-gray beak and squalling out ‘Gori!’ as he lifted his wide wing and rested its white underside on his shoulder which Gori promptly brushed off. ‘I do not know how you can stand this place; it stinks.’ George said, waving a talon in front of his nose as if swatting away the offending smell. A smell that Gori was more than used to. A noxious mix of opium smoke which rose and seeped into the moldy wood. ‘George,’ came Gori’s curt reply, not bothering to look at or even motion toward him instead taking a sip of his cup. George gave Gori a look and as the old griffon returned with his drink, he downed it in one go before asking for another. ‘Will you go see your mother?’ he questioned, ‘she has been writing, you know?’ George said accusingly, but with a look that said he already knew the answer. ‘No,’ replied Gori, still not turning his head, and taking another sip of his drink. George let out a long sigh before downing his newly refilled cup, ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘We will not talk about your mom or about how you left for three years without so much as a word. Instead...,’ he motioned a claw toward the door, ‘...I have something to show you.’ George gestured again with his head for Gori to follow him as he began to leave his seat. ‘Why would I follow you?’ Gori said finally finishing the drink he was nursing, downing the rest with a gulp. George gave him another look before chuckling to himself, ‘Why? Are you having too much fun drinking alone like some bum? You owe me this much after the way you left; it is either this or I tell your mom you are in town.’ Gori groaned aloud but got out his chair, leaving a few coins on the counter and following George out. Gori was significantly smaller than George was and came up to about his upper chest. Gori was half hawk and half puma. His smooth white feathers became black around the neck like a collar and his tan fur was smooth and slick. His wings were a rusty chestnut speckled with black. Despite his stature, he was incredibly strong, and his muscles were well defined and taunt. He always carried a sabre on his waist whose shiny metal hilt was well kept and polished. They exited the bar together and took a right down the dirt street and walked until they were a good distance out of town and into the outskirts. The entire time neither said a word; although George would often look back to make sure he was following, and every time would open his deep beak as if to say something before shaking his head and continuing. This would happen three or four more times before eventually they stood in front of an old overgrown farmhouse on top of a small hill. The roof had caved in at the center and the walls turned black from the mold and were drooping. The dusty windows were cracked, and sharp glass spilled out onto the grass outside as if they were broken from the inside. Tall weeds sprouted from the yard with sharp pricks. ‘Here we are,’ George said before stepping over the glass and pushing his way through the door which hung loosely on its hinges, ‘mind the glass.’ He said from inside. Gori looked at the building and hesitated, ‘If you are planning on killing me, I can think of a better place for it!’ He yelled into the house, George only laughed from inside, the foundation shaking alongside his booming amusement. With a quick look around Gori followed him into the house. The inside was surprisingly clean – or as clean as it could be considering the overall state of the place. Most of the debris had been picked up and piled into a corner and the floor had been swept and mopped. The little furniture that was still inside the home was free of dust and remarkable intact when compared to the rest of the house. The place was dark with long shadows which poured from the corners as if trying to swallow the place in their shade. The only light came from the gaping hole in the ceiling and a solitary candle that drooped to the side and sat on a table in the center of the room. As he made his way further into the house the floorboards creaked and bent under him as if they were going to snap apart at any moment and judging from the numerous holes in the floorboards they had before. George sat hunched over in a corner, his beak opening and closing as if he were talking to someone, but Gori could not see past his broad frame. Stopping, Gori said threateningly; ‘If you brought my mother out to a place like this just to ambush me, I swear I will claw your eyes out.’ Again, George let out a loud laugh before standing and turning to reveal a young fledgling who was veiled by the long shadows and sat curled up huddled in the corner. Gori fought the surprise from reaching his voice, ‘Who... who is that?’ He asked the words tripping out of his beak. ‘The thing I wanted to show you, look,’ George gestured for him to come closer. Gori gave him a look of someone who would rather be anywhere else, but nonetheless made his way over toward the boy. Once he was close enough, George yanked on the metal chain that was encapsulated around the fledging’s neck eliciting a pained squawk from him and pulling him into the light. The young griffon was half eagle and half jaguar. His face was gray with black feathers on the crown. He had dark wings, that mirrored his fur, with a white underwing. His reddish beak was large and hooked and his largely white legs had black stripes before becoming yellow at the feet which had long sharp talons. His time here, however long it was, had not been kind. His feathers had not been preened in a while and were matted and thick with dirt and dust while his fur was patchy and rough. ‘Is he not a pretty one?’ George said as he brought his dark foot to the young griffon’s wing and carefully but sternly opened them up, ‘Look at this wingspan! No doubt he was the talk amongst all the hens back home, eh?’ Under all the grime it was undoubtable that he was a very attractive griffon and his wingspan, especially for someone so young, was indeed impressive. Gori thought as George continued to poke and prod at the young griffon, who sat reserved and limp in his grasp like a doll and made sure he pointed out every detail he could to Gori. ‘George,’ Gori had said apprehensively which caused the Griffon to stop and drop the fledgling who would fall with an unceremonious thud, ‘what do you want form me here?’ Gori asked. George gave him a look as if he had not understood the question before he erupted into laughter. He turned away from the child and walked over toward Gori and said: ‘What do you mean, is it not obvious? I want you to buy him from me.’ Gori took a step back as if he were repulsed by the statement. ‘Is this what you been up to since I left? A slaver?’ Gori spat on the floor as if the word had tasted fowl in his mouth. George laughed and sat down in a chair next to the table. ‘Do not judge me, someone had to take care of your mother, and unlike you I could not just abandon her.’ When Gori heard that he raised a pale gray talon on the hilt of his sword and give an angered squall that rang off the walls while rearing up on his hind legs. ‘Be as angry as you want…,’ George started, undeterred by the show of force, ‘…it is the truth, that is why it pains you so much to hear.’ Gori gave him a look that said that he would like nothing more in the world than to run his sword through him but nonetheless relented and took a calming breath while he gave a look at the hatchling. Despite the disarmed and reclusive demeanor he had, the fledglings striking red eyes eyed him with sharp suspicion. ‘Even if I were the type to buy a slave, why would I? I am neither a trader, a noble, nor a plantation owner. I have no need of one.’ George gave him a smile of someone that already knew that they had achieved what they wanted, ‘because you owe me and owe your mother. She needs the money and I need to offload him,’ said George who grabbed a bottle of liquor from under the table and took a drink. ‘Why me? Surely there are better places to sell a griffon.’ Gori prompted. ‘Sure, there are, but the truth is I am new to this, and I do not trust myself to take such high-grade merchandise to the markets.’ Gori eyed the fledging again, ‘where did you even get him?’ George shook his head, ‘Does it matter?’ He stood up and walked over toward Gori, ‘you will buy him and then he will no longer be my problem…,’ he paused and rubbed his chin as if thinking of something, ‘…200 muniti’ Gori gave a dry laugh, ‘200?! Who do you think I am, Guze Bres?’ George rolled his eyes, ‘I know you have it, what else are you spending it on? Not your family for sure; look, you can kill him after this for all I care, but for once support the ones who helped raise you.’ Gori tonged the roof of his mouth before kissing his lips. He looked at the kitling who still sat motionless in the corner, his red eyes boring into him. ‘Fine, but do not bring this shit to me again.’ With a thunderous laugh that shook the house, George poured him a cup of liquor before he tipped the bottle upward and swallowed the rest. Author's Note Like I said, I am new to writing in general so please leave your thoughts and feedback!
Griffons 2Gori tonged the roof of his mouth as he paced back-and-forth. He would occasionally stop and spare a glance toward the young griffon before starting again. The fledgling, for his part, stood motionless in front of him watching Gori with his striking red eyes. After ten minutes of pacing, Gori would stop and turn toward the hatchling and without a word he ushered him to follow. The first order of business for Gori was to give him a bath. The boy not only smelt horrible but looked so as well. The mare-in-the-moon was showing her full face so despite the hour the streets remained well-lit which made it easy for Gori to find what he was looking for. After navigating the narrow maze-like streets of the city, Gori and the boy would come across a bath house that was neatly nestled right at the entrance to the town as to be more likely to catch the eye of weary travelers as they made their way through. The bath house was run by the family of an old friend of Gori’s, Giada Banju, and Gori would rather have avoided the place, however given the circumstances, he could not wait till morning and would be hard pressed to find another place open that late at night. The door to the bathhouse opened with a quaint ring and not shortly after a Gryphoness walked in from a room behind the counter to welcome them. ‘Hello-,’ the words died on her lips, ‘Gori!?’ Giada yelled in surprise before covering her mouth and sending an apologetic look behind the curtain she appeared from. Giada had been described as a pretty and attractive hen. Half falcon and half lynx, she was small compared to most other gryphons but no less fierce. Her face was a warm, rusty brown with black spots. Her wings were a reddish brown, and her fur was a thick gray with faint black spots. She was always known for being remarkable well-keep and clean – a perk of working in a bath house. Every part of her was well manicured from her well-preened feathers to her smooth brushed fur. In a blur she had ran past the counter and scooped Gori up in a hug. After about a minute, she pulled away and planted a kiss on each of his cheeks. ‘Gori… I never… where…,’ the words fumbled their way out of her hooked beak, she took a step back, eyeing him up and down before taking a deep breath and smoothing out her feathers with her talon. ‘You should come in…,’ she said after a minute, ‘…my father would be happy to see you again.’ Gori shook his head and gave her an apologetic look, ‘I am sorry, I do not have the time.’ He said, twisting his neck and gesturing toward the hatchling behind him who during that entire time just stood quietly to himself. ‘Who is he?’ She said, her dark brown eyes moving between the two of them. ‘He is a-…,’ Gori paused and thought it better to avoid the truth, ‘… a kitten I found that I am taking care of.’ Giada’s eyes narrowed, ‘What is his name?’ She asked, Gori shrugged his shoulders. ‘So, you had time to take care of a random fledgling whose name you do not even know but not enough time to visit me?’ She questioned with a scoff. ‘Giada-,’ Gori would begin before being cut off by Giada, ‘Have you even seen your mother?’ Gori did not answer. Giada moved back behind the counter and grabbed a pile of towels which she silently placed on the counter. She gave Gori a look before walking back behind the curtain. After Giada had left, the kid and Gori walked into the bathroom which was empty this time of night. With a sigh that spoke volumes of his weariness, Gori sank into the warm water. The fledgling eyed him carefully as he bathed, but after five minutes of watching Gori clean himself, he decided that it was fine and began to scrub himself down with a rag. Although Gori appeared relaxed, he was anything but, and watched the boy from the corner of his eye. While Gori typically loved the quiet, this one was awkward and thick. His mind raced and the seconds slowed as they both bathed in silence. Having decided the quiet was unbearable, Gori moved behind the kitling and grabbed the rag from his claw. The boy froze under his legs as he washed him. After Gori felt he was clean enough, he gestured for him to open his wings and he did so silently. ‘What is your name?’ inquired Gori nervously as he washed him. ‘If you do not wish to tell me then at least let me know what I should call you,’ the fledgling remained still and Gori turned to rinse the rag when he spoke in a raspy voice that was dry with unuse, ‘Lsir’ the word floated in the air. ‘Is that your name?’ asked Gori, but he remained quiet. ‘Okay, Lsir…,’ Gori said tasting the name on his beak, ‘…it is a two-day journey to Bejta, can you make it?’ The young griffon remained silent but nodded. Satisfied, Gori finished washing the Griffon before taking him back to the Apple’s Eye. The walk back to the hotel was uneventful. The bar had closed for the night, so Gori made his way directly to his room. The apartment had already been cramped when it was just Gori, now it was practically incommodious. It had only one bed with a small night table next to it that sat underneath a window that looked out onto the street. There was a cushioned velvet chair in the corner that reclined slightly and was therefore the place Lsir was going to sleep for the night. ‘Almost everything is better than a floor’ Gori thought, so he found no need as to why he should give up the bed. Lsir, apparently sensing his thoughts, quietly moved to the chair and laid down. Gori watched him for a few minutes until he was satisfied the boy was at least good at pretending to sleep and moved to the bed. The bed protested under his weight, and moving his sword next to him so it remained in reach, Gori pulled the letter from his bag: Dear Esteemed Subject, Under the protective gaze of our majestic realm, it is with urgency that I, Gann Ljun, write to you on behalf of his royal and opulent majesty, Prince Ġiovanni Ajkla. This letter herby summons you to the royal court on the 15th day of this present month. Your presence is essentail to discuss a mater of utmost importance. It is his high graces beleif that your unquie talents make you indispensable to the task at hand. I trust your will heed this call without delay, so that we may countine to forge a golorius future for the relam and its inhabitants. On behalf of his majesty, The Royal Secretary, Gann Ljun. He read the letter again and stared at it for a few minutes before deciding he had had enough fretting and carefully placed it back in his bag. He spared one more look toward the fledgling, and with a shake of his head he went to sleep.
Ponies 1Crimson Butte stalked the fortress carefully though her looking glass. The imposing fortress stood monumentally on the top of a hill and was backdropped by an auburn sky which gave the majestic citadel an orange hue as Celestia dipped her sun below the horizon. Its tall limestone walls snaked gracefully around the curves of the hill, encapsulating a large domed building whose peak could just barely be seen over its walls. She would pan along the battlements and would watch the tiny dots move back and forth like ants on top of the ramparts. Hundreds of griffons ebbed and flowed throughout the fortress as if they were blood coursing through its veins. The old fortress was once the home of terrestrials who had fled Equestria after the fall of Nightmare Moon. They had come to Griffonia in droves and built forts like this all over the continent. Some made their own communities separate from the Griffons, ruling over kingdoms made up of and ruled by terrestrials; others who did not have the means to self-rule lived as refugees, in ghettos and segregated quarters of griffon towns and cities; a select few terrestrials, however, had elected to rule over the griffons instead of coinciding with them and the fortress here at been one of those cases. It was built as the seat of terrestrial power over griffons and remained so for almost two decades before the garrison would be overrun by a mob of angry griffons and the terrestrial tyrants were hung from its mighty towers. In a strange sense of irony, what had once been a symbol of tyranny now was the griffons of this area’s only hope at salvation. Crimson found this curious twist of fate amusing and could not help but ponder the unpredictable nature of history. Crimson had felt sick that morning. The ponies had been sieging the fort for almost two months now and it consumed her. In the eyes of her superiors, she had been right on track, but to her she was entirely too slow. Every day that passed ate away at her and every minute gnawed at the back of her mind. Her grandfather had fought against Nightmare Moon. Had sieged fortress ten times the size of this one and did so with shocking effectiveness and efficiency. At the battle of Horseshoe Bay, he took the city and its fort in four days. At the pace Crimson is moving it will take her four months to take this one measly terrestrial fort that was garrisoned by griffons. She looked at the encampment through the looking glass again, and it looked back at her mockingly. Its limestone walls turned white in the morning sun which made them look pure and pristine as if it had not suffered the past two months under siege. The Griffons on its walls moved to-and-fro the dots bouncing with their steps as if laughing at her from its walls. She closed her eyes and rubbed them with a hoof. She walked past a long mirror that was in her tent and cringed at the reflection. Her deep blue eyes were red and bloodshot, and her face had dark and saggy bags. Her once vibrant red mane had dulled a little and was disheveled and frizzy. Her wavy brown fur was unkempt and felt heavy on her skin. She grabbed a comb and went through her hair, she made sure to part it in the front as to show off her most important feature: her long and sharp horn. After she had gotten her mane in a state she would be comfortable with, she made her way out of the tent and into the camp proper. The camp was large and bustling with tan tents that reached out as far as she could see in all directions; the encampment sprawled around the fortress in every direction as if it had sprouted from the ground around it; ponies moved like bees buzzing in a hive, each with a purpose and they bounced from place to place with hurried vigor. Crimson navigated the congested paths of the tent city with ease and gave salutes to ponies as she went by. After walking through the maze-like streets of the camp she eventually came upon a large tent that stood disconnected from the rest. The tent was large and ornate, with purple terms and golden suns embroidered on the sides. It had a wide awning that came out about ten feet and cast a cool shade in front of the tent. Two guards stood on either side of the door and upon seeing her they saluted and moved to let her in. Able Illusion stood as she entered the tent. They saluted each other and shook hooves before sitting around a large table that took up most of the room in the tent. ‘You look like shit.’ Able said, chuckling to himself as she gave him a pointed look. ‘You do not look much better yourself’ She replied, absentmindedly brushing her hair with her hoof. It was a lie; Able Illusion was a handsome stallion and notorious for keeping up appearances even in a military encampment. His violent violet mane was manicured and cut short, it was styled as to spiral out from the horn which was a common and popular haircut amongst unicorn stallions. His milky cream-colored fur had been brushed and washed and shone beautifully even in the dimly lit tent. His brown eyes looked her over and, with a sigh, he motioned for her to move her chair over toward him, which she had done. There he began running a hair bush through her mane with his hoof while using his magic to smooth out her coat. ‘The soldiers cannot have their commander looking like death. You must keep up appearances, it inspires confidence.’ Able Illusion said. Crimson Butte only grunted in response before resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes. ‘If you are going to sleep do so in your own tent, we cannot afford any rumors.’ He said but continued to brush and stroke her mane and fur. ‘I am not sleeping, just resting my eyes.’ She replied. Had her eyes been open she would have seen Able Illusion give her a look of distrust. After he had finished combing through her hair, he nudged her awake and stood up. ‘You got droll on my coat you know,’ he said in mock anger. Crimson wiped her mouth with her leg and gave him a sheepish half-hearted apology. Able looked as if he wanted to tell her something but thought better of it and instead walked outside the tent. After shaking the remnants of sleep off she made her way to a desk mirror that was in the tent and admired the now pristine and sleekness of her fur and mane. Satisfied with her appearance, she followed Able Illusion outside of the tent. Author's Note Hey everyone! I am not 100% on this chapter it feels so let me know why I feel that way or if I am just crazy. As always leave criticism please.
Ponies 2Crimson’s eyes burned in the afternoon sun as beads of sweat trickled down her fur; the air had grown hot and sticky in a manner characteristic of the continent and so foreign from that of the cool mountain air of Canterlot, the city where she had been raised. Even after she had spent months in the sweltering climate, Crimson never truly got used to the oppressive heat which had felt as if it had been strategically designed to make the life of ponies as uncomfortable as possible. ‘It is like trotting through Tartarus,’ remarked Able, who wiped his brow with a hoof and silently prayed to himself that the princess would pull her sun farther away and grant them respite from the heat. The two would walk until they came across the cannons which sat menacingly aimed at the walls. A group of fifty or so ponies serviced the weapons, a few noticing them and putting up a salute which they would dismiss. After they had observed the engineers for a couple of minutes, the Corps Colonel of the Royal Engineers, Sturdy Load, would approach them. She was a wide and dense mare who was significantly shorter than average. She had bushy silver fur that was black with oil and dust. Her ashen mane was cut short and styled like that of a stallion and she had a silver ring ear piercing in her right ear. ‘Sir, Ma’am,’ she said with a salute to them both. ‘Colonel,’ Crimson responded as they returned the salute. ‘What brings you two over here?’ Sturdy asked, her gray eyes running between them. ‘We were just making our rounds, seeing how everything is.’ Able said. Sturdy Load sighed and started walking down the lines of artillery motioning for them to follow. ‘You could have saved yourselves the trip, not much has changed.’ Sturdy said as she walked. They followed and watched the ponies work on the cannons before she stopped and turned toward a cannon whose large cast iron barrel had a long and prominent crack that ran up the middle and splintered out like shattered glass near the base. ‘This is our latest casualty…,’ Sturdy gestured toward it, ‘…she gave out on us last night; the heat makes it harder for them to cool down and some idiot did not clean it properly.’ She turned to face them, ‘Not that it matters, these cannons have not made so much as a dent in the walls since we hauled the over here.’ She said spitting on the ground. General Verdant Cornet was lazily laying in a tub to cool down. He felt the warmth much worse than most, having grown up on the border between the Crystal Empire and Equestria where it rarely rose above a frigid 30 degrees on the warmest of days the Griffonian heat was like torture. He splashed himself with water, letting the cool droplets run down his green fur. As he soaked, he read a book on Musical Composition which floated lazily in the air in front of him and hummed along to the pages. Unlike many in his position, he had not wanted to be a soldier. When he was still a naïve foal, he had dreamt of being a composer and performing in the grand shimmering theaters in Canterlot; however, his father was head of the royal guard and had firmly pushed him into a military career and not wanting to go against the patriarch of the family he had agreed to do so. ‘Sir,’ a pony would call from outside his tent. Verdant swallowed a sigh and while putting down his book but remaining inside the tub would yell out ‘Come in!’ The tent opened with a flap and a young pegasus would enter whose eyes bulged upon seeing his commander in the bath and with reddening cheeks, he hurried out, ‘I can come back later, if this is a bad time,’ as he turned his back and started making his way out the tent. Verdant gave a chuckle which rolled its way off his tongue in the stereotypical northern fashion. ‘Nonsense…,’ Verdant said, ‘…now is fine.’ The pegasus hesitantly turned back, and with measured steps walked fully into the tent until he stopped just outside of the tub. ‘So, what is it?’ Verdant Cornet asked. ‘News sir, from Lord Amber Crest.’ He produced a letter from his satchel and offered it to the general who picked it up with his magic. Verdant tore the envelope open and made sure to eye up the pegasus as he unfolded the letter with a melodramatic pause. General Verdant Cornet, It is with great displeasure that I, Lord Amber Crest, must inform you of the unfortunate events that have transpired. You see, my magnificent forces were engaged in battle with a rather bothersome griffon army, and it seems that their uncouth determination, coupled with the most unfavorable conditions on our end, has led to a temporary setback in our strategic advances. I assure you it is a mere aberration, as my troops shall not be deterred for long. However, this very same griffon army, which I believe has had a lucky break in our recent engagement and is thus now full of the merriment of victory, is now marching toward your position, intending to lift the siege on their precious griffon fort, Xorti. Clearly, they remain ignorant of the insurmountable force they will face when they encounter your elite battalion. Nonetheless, it would be unwise to discount their sheer numbers and apparent tenacity. Therefore, I must order you, General Verdant Cornet, to make a tactical withdrawal from your current position toward the village of Festa where we may regroup. I trust that you understand the significance of preserving our troops for the many battles ahead, rather than engaging in a futile standoff with these creatures. I expect your immediate compliance with this order, and I shall require an update on your progress as soon as possible. Remember, our ultimate victory shall not be marred by this temporary inconvenience, and her majesty’s will shall be done in the end. Signed, Lord Amber Crest Verdant tore it up in anger. ‘That idiotic… Does he have any idea… How does one even manage…’ he swore to himself loudly, falling angrily in his bath and splashing water on the pegasus messenger who stood still with his eyes cast downward. After a few minutes, the tantrum would subside and with a calm apology toward his guest, he would dismiss the pegasus who would give him a hasty salute and all but fly out of the tent. With most of the water now outside the tub, Verdant would get out, dry himself, and sit heavily on the end of his bed. ‘How could I tell this army to retreat?’ he thought to himself. Having sat on the bed for twelve minutes, Verdant Cornet felt as if he could not think inside of the tent and needed some fresh air so, using his magic to pull his tan mane back into a bun, he shot up and marched outside. He walked around the camp absently while muttering to himself. As he walked, Verdant watched the soldiers, who had sat sprawled out wherever they could find shade. A group of stallions had chosen to lay about in the grass underneath a tall and wide tree whose dry leaves crackled in the wind. One of the ponies, an orange stallion with a beige mane, saw him and quickly snapped into a quick salute while simultaneously nudging his friend who had apparently fallen asleep and awoke with a start, looked around, and upon seeing everyone else standing at attention quickly followed suit tripping over his gear and stumbling forward a few steps before righting himself. Verdant put them at ease. When he did not leave the orange one spoke up, in the soft but stern manner that only a soldier could, a questioning ‘Sir?’ Verdant smiled at the soldiers, which seemed to have calmed them a bit and asked: ‘What do you think of this siege?’ The three looked at each other confused. A gray stallion, the one who had been asleep, sensing that no one else was going to answer responded. ‘I think it is great sir, the griffons have been quiet for a while now so they should be close to breaking…,’ and with a crooked smirk that revealed a gap in the right side of his mouth he added, ‘…I just wish we can get to them sooner.’ Verdant watched to other two stallions nod in agreement, ‘Is this the consensus around camp then?’ He asked. ‘Yes sir,’ the gray stallion responded. ‘Well then, you should be careful what you wish for,’ and with that Verdant Cornet said his goodbyes and continued to walk through the camp. Author's Note The plan is to write two Griffon chapters and two Pony ones and just alternate between the two. So the next two chapters will be a continuation of the first two and the next two after those will continue where this left off.
