Last Stop on the Mail Route

Spike wasn't lying. Malformed looking things.

Bipedal, like myself, but comically proportioned. Ranging in fur color from blacks to browns, they bore some similarity to the Canine breeds on Earth, facially. Though they dressed like a poor western gang.

Nestled atop a nearby cliff, my bag tucked underneath a few rocks to the side, I laid on my stomach.

Squinting through the scope, my rifle nestled against my shoulder, I laid in the shadowy overhang of a higher cliff, my jacket laid out underneath myself for comfort. The way I had imagined it playing out, it'd be some kind of generic mine shaft, a few weird dog-people standing guard, and gems sitting in baskets or carts.

Funny enough, I wasn't terribly off in my guess, though I hadn't accounted for some aspects of it.

This section of the mountain served like a protective bowl, with the center hollowed out in the style of an open-pit mine, a dilapidated mine track slowly spiraling into its grey stoned center. Most of the carts were empty, but I saw one that had a glint to it... small pile of gems, maybe. It'd have to be sifted out of the rocks. Several of these 'Diamond Dogs' were idling about or patrolling... as I count them off, they earn blunt nicknames, my crosshair hovering over each of them.

Beanpole, tall and thin, holding a club. Weird hat.
Stubby, probably three feet tall, holding a hammer.
Chunk, big and wide. No weapons, but damn his arms are huge.
Oh, that ones just drooling. Everywhere. Ew.
Alright, nicknames were getting boring. Bean, Stub, Chunk and Drool. They're just big-armed dogs with overbites and ratty clothes, and either towering over me or as tall as my knee. One thing in common though... they all had big teeth.

There were about 4 of them that I could see from here. Might be another one or two deeper in the pit, but from here, I couldn't see too far inside. There's some distant laughing and shouting; one of them is milling around with a spear. Two of them are sat around some kind of... looks like they're gambling. Hrm. Last one is napping against a rock.

They had a little camp-like setup beside the pit, with some blankets and tents, using some of the rocks, but it didn't look like there was anything valuable in there. If there was anything, it'd be down in the pit. Maybe an ore or gem vein or... something.

I steady my breathing, the cold butt of my rifle poking into my shoulder. I shift, adjusting my scope as the crosshair comes into focus over Beanpoles head, finger resting on the trigger.

The Black-furred, doberman-esque Diamond Dog named Buddy glares down at the lazy creatures, snarling. Three prisoners. A boon! But not. Useless! Can barely dig. Little orange one, tires so quickly, can barely work! Birds; birds strong, sharp claws! But can't find any gems?!

"Bird worthless!" Buddy growls -- slamming an oversized paw into the midsection of the chained Griffon. It throws him against the wall of the pit, chains rattling. The Male Griffon groans on the ground, its chocolate plumage coated in dirt and dust, the chains shackled around its legs, neck and wings keeping it restricted.

A slightly smaller Female Griffon, with streaks of purple Plumage, gasps in worry.
"No! Grant! Leave him alone!" She squawks, trying to pull against the chains that kept her rooted to her mining-spot, secured to the ground of the pit.

Grant wobbles as he tries to right himself, but the Diamond Dogs foot presses him back to the ground, baring its teeth.
"FIND MORE GEMS!" It shouts, slobbering. The orange-furred filly flinches as it yells, huddling behind the female Griffon.

"If you won't..." Buddy's claws flex, raising as the rumble in his throat grows louder. The Male Griffon shies away, squinting.

CRACK

The four flinch at the sudden, loud sound, as it echoes off the walls of the mountain, and the pit.

Buddy glances back and forth, up towards the top of the pit. Lightning? With no clouds? Buddy squints, about to shout up to Barley, the tall Diamond Dog.

"BARLEY! WHY NOISE? WHAT--"

Barley slumps, folding over the lip of the pit before plummeting inside, crunching on the stone below. Buddy's eyes widen. He can hear confused muttering from the top of the pit, as the other Dogs rouse from their distractions. The prisoners eyes widen at the slumped body, the Female Griffon covering the orange fillies eyes.

CRACK

It happens again, the flash of sound bouncing as it drones. The Dogs up top are shouting now, and Buddy can hear the table they'd been gambling on get toppled over. From here, he can't see anything else. He glances back and forth along the top of the pit, starting to shy away--

CRACK

Monty stumbles into view, dropping on the edge of the pit, arm dangling over the side. A crimson smear slowly runs down from his body, dribbling down the side. Buddy's heart is thundering in his chest. Forget the prisoners--some creature was attacking. From the Everfree? From deeper below? This was neutral territory, they should have dibs! They should--

CRACK

A final crack -- and a final thud.

The worrying noises up top are silent. No movement. No shouts, no yips, yelps or yaps.

Buddy's legs are shaking.

There's a shifting sound, footsteps approaching.

His eyes widen as a glint appears at the lip of the pit.

Sliding down the edge of the cliff, bag back on my back, I pocket the spent shells. I move cautiously, quietly, keeping an ear open. Their panic worked in my favor. Beanpole was easy. Stubby, still no idea what was happening. Chunky and Drools didn't know what they were hiding from, trying to duck behind tables or rocks -- the echo in this bowl threw them off. Moment they stopped moving, lining it up was simple.

The Pit was quiet... but I could still hear something. One more, I think. I'm not going to let overconfidence turn this around -- Could be a dozen more down there for all I know, or they could chuck a rock like nobodies fucking business. Only takes one lucky throw, and I liked my head without a big fucking dent in it.

I lay down, crawling against the ground to reach the holes edge as I peer the rifle down.

Four more?

No, that's... they had those three in chains. Right. Slavers. That'll complicate keeping this quiet, but...

My eyes flicker over the prisoners. Two Griffons, I think, braced in chains. A third, a filly, hiding behind one of the Griffons--

Hang on, I know that one. That's one of the crusaders.

That's fucking Scoots.

My crosshair falls over the last dog, and I rack the bolt.

One more.

"W-WAIT!" It shouts, throwing its arms up.

I don't.

CRACK

Grant flinches as the Dog that had been tormenting them shouts in fear--before dropping backwards against the cold stone of the pit floor. His ears are ringing from the sound, vision blurry from the beating. But he has to stand. A claw scrapes the ground, pushing himself to his feet. It hurts--but he can't let this thing hurt his sister.

He blinks hard, trying to focus. The thing -- it's skinnier and smaller than the Dogs, but it walks like them, sliding down the slope that leads to the bottom of the pit. It's holding some weird stick. Grant tries to widen his stance, watching as it approaches. If it could take out the Dog from that far, why would it--

The orange filly practically leaps into its arm, and it kneels to meet her, albeit awkwardly, holding her tight.

"MISTER MUSS!" Scootaloo practically screams in my face. I squint. Forgot the vocals this one had on her.

"Hey, Scoots. You alright? Did they hurt you?" I ask, setting my rifle down.

"WHAT?" She shouts again. Right. Ringing ears. I close her mouth with a hand, before my ears join hers, and I use it as a moment to look her over; apparently they lacked proper chains for her size, and had just thrown one on around her barrel. Otherwise, no injuries or problems. Good. I set her down, looking to the others.

Two Griffons, watching me wearily. They look like they've been here longer than Scoot has, for sure. They're covered in dirt, and look oddly skinny.

I sling my rifle back over my shoulder, glancing between the two of them. The larger one is trying to puff up, but I can see he's taken a good beating. He groans, eventually sinking to the ground -- the other Griffon looking to him with worry.
"Grant!" She shouts. Good to know language barrier wouldn't be an issue.

Glancing around, I pat down the deceased Dog... yeah, Keys. Plucking them from its pocket, I step towards the smaller Griffon. She stares up at me with wide eyes, trying to fluff up her own plumage -- until she sees Scoots trotting alongside me. Her feathers fall, looking at me with confusion.
"Who are you?" She asks, glancing between me and Scoots.

"HE'S--" She blinks. Ringing must've stopped. "Sorry. He's Mister Muss! He's a friend!"

The Griffon looks up to me as I dangle the keys. She turns slightly, exposing her torso--looks like the main cuff they put on Scoots, with a keyhole on the side. I kneel down, flicking through keys and testing them until there's' a click, the manacles sliding off her.

The moment she's free, she darts to the other Griffons side, holding him close. She glances to me expectantly, and I follow.

After a few moments, we've gotten the chains off of everybody. Scoots is faring pretty good. I'm trying to not let her look at the bodies, but... situations a little busy. I'm probably in for some questions on the way back.

The Griffons are Grant, and Dina. Chocolate one is Grant, Purple one is Dina. They're Griffon Traders that got caught about a week ago, had their supply taken, and got put to work by a breakaway sect of Diamond Dogs that split off from a larger group. Lucky me I didn't run into those.

Grant had been eating most of the punishments for the pair, so he was a lot worse off. Both were hungry -- I gave Scoots some of what I had brought with me. And after a... private conversation away from Scoots ears, I set about getting the Griffons something to eat. For them, I had five sources to pull from. Turns out their diet is more carnivorous than mine, and they had an even more liberal approach to what they were willing to eat. Don't know if I could do it, but the weird urgency of the situation, and the fact I already needed to make sure I wasn't leaving any spent bullets behind... carving a few strips wasn't the worst thing.

They kept Scoots distracted while I worked. I pocketed the spent shells, and had a reasonable wrapping of meat. I might get along better with Griffons then I thought; though I wouldn't be eating any of this, myself.

And, for the trouble... well, I hoped it would translate well. I spent some time digging through the Pit, with directions from Dina, I was able to fill my pack with a variety of gems, near-full. Hopefully, that should cover things, and let me start on repaying the loan Sunbutt swung my way. Help make everyone's unfortunate stay here turn out a little better.

The trek back wasn't easy. Grant had a lot of trouble walking, so I set up a makeshift sled for him. Tied my jacket to my rifle, put him on it, and dragged him. It worked a lot better when we got to the plains. Pack was full of gems, but Dina offered to help carry it since I was dragging Grant.

Scoots explained how she ended up in the Dogs clutches. Something about a fight with Dash, leading to Scoots trying to prove herself by getting to the top of the mountains. I respect the kids gumption, and gave her a soft scolding -- I'm sure she was in for worse when we got back, so I kept it light. Kid already knew she messed up, so she didn't need me ripping into her about it. She's been sticking pretty close to me, since. She asked the obvious questions, of course. Rather than try to guide a kid into lying, I just played it overtly blunt. Told her I had some 'Human stuff that let me beat them up real good from far away'. She bought it. The look from Dina told she, however, didn't. I think Griffonia might be more warfare oriented than Equestria; they didn't mind what I did, but I knew the Ponies I knew would freak.

Good to know moving to Griffonia was always an option if I biffed things up too badly here.

With Grant mostly out of it, I spent the rest of the journey talking to Dina. They worked for a larger Merchants guild that dealt in trading exotic goods for places that couldn't often get them. For them, that meant transporting goods most Ponies didn't want. That included meat. As a thanks, she said that she'd try to put in a good word to get Ponyville as a destination on their route. When I asked why the Guild hadn't showed the save them, she told me how the journey often took multiple weeks; so it'd take that long for someone to notice they were gone. Scary stuff.

When we finally got back to Ponyville, I made sure to escort the trio to the Clinic. Scoots, just in case. I covered their fees with some of the gems, despite Dina protesting. If they could swing actual meat around here sometime, it'd be more than worth it.

Nurse Redheart looked like she wanted to talk to me about my last visit, but she had her hands full with the Griffons.

Dash swung by real quick once word got around. She actually hugged me for helping Scoots. Still no idea if they're related, or if that filly just idolizes her. I went to leave, but noticed that Scoots looked... lonely. I talked to her about it. Apparently, her parents are explorers. Who don't visit particularly often. When I asked who she stays with... the kid started listing off a few of the different families that she rotates with, apparently having made some kind of deal with her parents, since they're never around.

Jesus Christ.

I told her she could stay at my place anytime she needed to, which had her positively beaming. The crusaders and Dinky already came over like every other day. Plus, I felt... awkwardly responsible. If I hadn't pulled my little Dog-Hunting stunt, I'm sure she would've been rescued just fine by the Elements, eventually. But exposing a kid to that kind of stuff... well, I'd have to see how it played out. She still had a few checkups with Redheart, so I headed home.

Heading up the hill, I caught Derpy trying to squeeze back out of my window--startling slightly as she caught sight of me, her wriggling put on pause. I stopped about a foot from her, the height of my window bringing us face-to-face, looking (or at least trying to) into her golden eyes. My little romp had me feeling bold.

"Hey, Derpy. You wanna get something to eat this Sunday?"