The small pebble skimmed across the still seawater a couple of times before sinking into the lake, sending minor disturbances across the sparkling water, which was shimmering thanks to the bright sun overhead. The Courier sat on the beachside, lowering his arm as the water shifting ever-so-slightly, wetting more of the sand that rested a few feet ahead. His rifle pressed against his back as he reached into the small pile of stones he had gathered and plucked out another rock. After giving a brief wind up, he chucked it with a large amount of power and deftness. It skimmed about five and a half times, before giving out and tumbling below into the briny deep.

Six scratched his wrist a few times with his gloved hand, sighing. For a moment, he thought about Ponyville—town was simple, quiet. Better than the beach still, though. Had Scoots, Dash, Lyra, Bon Bon... Cherry Berry. The thoughts died as he refocused on the ocean; he sniffled and then grabbed a third rock, tossing it out into the sparkling waves once more, sending ripples across the water. As he threw the stone, he heard the sound of sand crunching behind him.

“Woah! Dad wasn’t kidding!” said a youthful, masculine voice from behind the human.

Six looked over his right shoulder, staring back at the voice’s source. He found a white-feathered hippogriff staring back at him. He was smaller, about Silverstream’s height, if not a tad shorter than even her.

“And you are?” Six growled, before turning and tossing a pebble yet again.

The griff looked at him in surprise, before quickly gathering himself, “O-oh right! I’m Terramar—Silverstream’s brother!”

“You here to talk my ear off?” the Courier snarked, collecting the remaining rock pile in his palm before standing up. He towered over the youthful griff as another tiny wave came in, splashing against the sand and occasional mossy rock.

The beakface frowned at that, “N-no—No sir! I actually came here to thank you for the letter you know? My uh, my sister hasn’t been back in a good while and it’s nice to hear she’s alri—”

“Yeah, don’t mention it, birdboy,” Six replied, tossing out another small stone.

The griff looked offended at his words, stamping a foreclaw into the sand, "Birdboy? Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're part bird, and also a boy, right? Makes sense to me," the human replied, before throwing out yet another pebble.

The young pony-eagle's annoyance seemed to drift away into confusion over the Courier's action, with Terramar raising a brow, “Uhm… what are you doing?”

“Skimming pebbles on rocks?” the human said, cocking a brow of his own. “You guys live around the ocean don’cha? Figured you’d have done this before.”

“Well, we kinda-sorta haven’t been above the water for a long time,” the bird-horse said, taking a few steps closer to the mailman, leaving marks of his claws in the sand as he did.

The mailman turned, looking down at him, “Hell does that mean?”

“I mean that we hippogriffs once turned ourselves into seaponies, used an artifact known as the Pearl of Transformation; removed all our feathery bits and became pony-fish instead, you know?” he explained, watching the waves out in the ocean as he fiddled with his necklace—which the Courier just now noticed as he turned and stared at the griff, leaving the beakface to stare into the Courier’s red lenses.

“You know Terramar? NO. I don’t know what it’s like to turn oneself into a half-fish,” the human said after a few more seconds of silence, before turning and tossing out another stone. Only had three left.

Terramar watched it skip across the waves intently, childlike wonder adorning his face, “Woah! That thing went really far out there! Can I try?”

“Knock yourself out, kid,” the human said, leaning down and offering his handful of rocks to the griff, who eagerly took them.

Terramar quickly brought back a foreclaw and tossed the rock hard out into the ocean. However, it immediately slammed into the water, sending out ripples as it sank instantly, “Ah dang it!”

“Throwin’ too hard birdboy,” the human said, pulling out his canteen and adjusting his mask. He took a swig and then put it away as he continued. “You gotta turn your wrist, sorta like this.”

Terramar stared at the biped as he repositioned himself a bit, leaning more into it as he thrusted his forearm forward at a slight angle. He repeated the motion slower this time, making sure to show the griff how to maneuver. The avian-equine then attempted to adjust the human’s movements for his own bipedal frame, even going as far to sit on his haunches and then follow the mailman’s technique.

After a few warmups, he threw the second pebble!

Splash!

“Crap!” the birdboy said, before immediately he looked up at the mailman, “Sorry mister, I didn’t mean to swear—”

“I’m not your grandma,” snickered the Courier. “Say whatever you damn well please.”

The beakface gave a small chuckle of his own, smiling, “You’re pretty cool… uh… Six?”

“Yeah you got it,” the human said with a nod. “Now throw the last one, and don’t screw it up!”

“R-right!” the griff said, rapidly shaking his own head. He went back to lining up his toss. He flicked his wrist about, trying to find the perfect angle. After bringing it back one final time, he thrust forwards and—

Thik thik thik! Sploosh!

“Nice going, beakface! That was one in a million!”

“Woah, really?” the griff questioned, his eyes filled with awe.

“No,” the human replied. “But if it makes you feel better, you can keep thinking it is.”

The griff gave a disappointed sigh, looking down, though the mailman reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, chin up kid, you did good,” Six complimented.

That lightened the young hippogriff’s mood, making him give a small smile, “T-thanks.”

“Alright, give me a few minutes and I can go collect some more stones,” Six said, turning and looking along the beach for any pebbles.

“Haha, no need, Six!” the hippogriff said, before he grabbed at his necklace. “Just let me go under the water and grab some!”

“What the hell are—”

Before he could finish, Terramar leapt into the ocean, his body being enveloped in a flash of magic before immediately the Courier saw him become a strange, fish-like creature.

“Seapony, remember?” the former-griff chuckled, pointing to his necklace with a forefin, before he ducked under the water.

“You didn’t say anything about still being able to become a fish, you numbskull!” shouted Six as he watched the seapony swimming deeper into the sea.

When Terramar resurfaced, he had a large collection of smoothed over pebbles and rocks reclaimed from the sea. The two stayed on the beach for about half an hour, with the griff working on his throwing angle each time. It wasn’t until the human saw a large, ancient-looking ship approach. Reminded him of something from an old pirate comic.

He skipped another stone and then turned to Terramar, who was currently extremely focused on angling his pebble, to the point his tongue hung out of his beak in concentration, “Kid, what the hell is that?”

“Huh—oh!” Terramar gasped in shock, dropping the stone as he was shaken from his task. “Oh it’s one of our navy's ships!”

“You know I forgot to ask Sky Beakface but why do you need a navy when you can, you know, become fish?” the Courier deadpanned at the younger creature.

“You ever tried fighting an enemy ship when all you have are swords and spears? Magical cannons don’t really work the best when underwater,” pointed out the hippogriff, bending down and grabbing his stone.

“Ah. Guess that makes sense,” Six replied as the ship parked itself on a wooden pier nearby.

He watched on as several armored hippogriffs stepped off of the ship and onto the docks. He noted the armor they wore differed from Sky Beak’s. Instead of being a faint golden coloration they were a deep green. Probably to distinguish the navy? Eh, didn’t matter. They all looked partly haggard as they moved along the planks, their bodies seeming tired and bags being under their eyes. The one at the front (he was of a pale blue coloration) reached up a foreclaw, rubbing his reddened eyes. Minor sleep deprivation. Not uncommon at sea, at least according to the ancient books the human had occasionally read.

“Tell you what, Terramar,” the mailman said, glancing over his shoulder at the young griff. “You keep at it with the rocks… I might be back later.”

The griff in question looked at the Courier in surprise, “O-Oh—Well, good luck with whatever it is you’re doing, Six!”

The Courier nodded, adjusting his jacket as he made the relatively short trek over to the docks. Eyes were on him again, with the weary hippogriffs staring over the human as the boards creaked beneath his larger, heftier frame. The same pale blue one stepped forwards, as if to halt his advances.

“Identify yourself,” he, for lack of a better term, squawked. His voice was regal yet tired sounding.

The biped straightened up, making sure his trail carbine was still secured to his back, “Courier Six. Guess you guys are the Seaquestrian Navy?”

“Yes, we are,” he said, his tone unsure as he raised a brow at the human. “You’re a courier? Do you have any mail for us?”

“No, I delivered all my packages before you guys even got to port,” the bipedal being replied. “But I’m here on account of the train schedule sucking absolute dick, for lack of a better term. Feels like this place is managed by the NCR or something.”

Seaspray took a step back at his crass words, though he did soon raise a foreclaw, coughing into it, before nervously scratching the back of his head, taking off his helmet to do so, “Well, vile wording aside, you are not completely wrong about the scheduling being quite abysmal, but I am unsure who this NCeeAree you speak of are.”

“That doesn't matter, just forget I said that. What matters is, you're a captain, right?” the human asked, crossing his arms as he leaned partly against one of the pier’s small support beams, with him nearly being tall enough to sit on the flat top of it.

“General thank you very much,” the griff corrected, a sense of pride in his voice. “General Seaspray of Her Majesty Queen Novo’s Navy.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, General,” Six said courteously, leaning down a bit to offer a hand to the smaller hybrid.

The beakface only looked at the stretched-out palm for a second, before it all clicked in his mind, and he extended a foreclaw, shaking the human’s palm awkwardly, “You must forgive me, it’s been quite a while since I’ve had claws. Still getting used to them and such.”

“Ah don’t sweat it,” Six brushed off, letting the quick claw-handshake trail off before the two let go. “You guys are the only place I can get some decent meat without having to go kill it myself. Not really much of a pescatarian though, never got a lot of fish back where I’m from.”

“Where exactly are you from?” Seaspray questioned. “I’ve never seen a creature quite like you.”

“A place where you don’t get a lot of fish,” the human answered. Seaspray stared at him for a moment, before Courier Six chuckled. “I’m from the Mojave. Don’t bother checking your maps, it’s not there. What matters is I’m currently under the employment of Ponyville Postal.”

“Really?” Seaspray responded, wide-eyed. “Why, I figured a being of your stature would be a soldier of some sort! I bet you could wrestle a bull shark.”

“Guess you could say that. Sorta always liked the term ‘militaman,’ but the distinctions don’t really matter—Anyways, I’m getting off track, General. You and your boys are probably here for a restock or something. That weird festival thing Sky Beak—” he paused, considering adding the ‘face’ but didn’t this time. Sky Beak was technically royalty. “...started a few hours ago.”

“Ah yes, the ‘Glad to be a Hippogriff’ festival. Such a beautiful occurrence… even if it has been a tad overplayed recently,” Seaspray shook off the critique. “I assume he’s invited you? He does love meeting new creatures.”

“Eh, yeah, sorta. I don’t know. I’m not one for big celebrations and all that crap.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you can be seated next to me,” Seaspray offered. “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to a fellow chivalric warrior!”

The human flinched back in surprise, both from being called ‘chivalric’ and the extreme openness of the military. NCR was a bit open about having ‘outside help’ but this was even more sudden, “Really? Just like that?”

“Of course!” the griff said, stepping past the mailman a few paces, “Unless you’re a spy sent here to sow mischief or steal our secrets.”

“Pffft,” Six stifled a laugh, stepping up behind the griff, who suddenly turned to stare him down.

“You aren’t a spy, are you?” he questioned, dead serious. There was a twinge of something in his eyes, however the Courier couldn’t quite tell if it was bullshitting or madness. The griff should play poker, that was for sure.

“I think if anyone wanted to send a spy, they wouldn’t pick the guy with glowing red eyes and very distinct clothing,” the human played it safe.

Seaspray stifled a chuckle of his own now, turning away. “Got you.”

“You prick.”

Tables dotted the center of town for the feast. The griffs loved their seafood. Not really a shock—coastal town, plus they were also part fish and all. The mailman himself didn’t mind this. The salmon was good; though most of the hybrids were eating theirs raw, Six had a nice smoked one. It was thin sliced, with lemon and crackers and such. Wasn’t really hearty but that’s fine. Tasted a lot different from most things in the Mojave. Even the fish there too. Not exactly less fresh but more… healthy? Saw a few ponies here and there trying it too. Guess they were only herbivores by choice. Then again, most things were.

“Enjoying the salmon?” he heard Seaspray, before he felt the griff pat him on his right shoulder, turning the human’s gaze to the mix-matched creature.

Courier Six wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, dusting away crumbs and spices while nodding. “Kinda wishing I got it fried now but, yeah.”

“Ah, I understand! I am more of a cod griff myself!” the eagle-horse chuckled.

The human gave his own minor laugh, partly joining in with the quadruped. As this happened, Terramar was trotting up behind the two, carrying a large plate (which was just a gigantic sand dollar which was roughly a foot across) stacked with several filets and other bits of seafood in one of his foreclaws. Six turned to the young beakface when he sat the shell-plate down on his left.

“Is this seat taken?” the young griff nervously asked.

“Not at all dear Terramar! Please, have a seat!” Seaspray answered.

Six merely shrugged, popping another cracker covered in salmon into his mouth, speaking as he chewed, “Whatever the oldtimer says.”

“Awesome!” Terramar squeaked with a smile, now boxing the biped between two bird-ponies.

The mailman swallowed his fish-cracker, “So what brings you, beakface?”

“Dad said you’re from Ponyville! I figured I’d get to know what it’s like since the Crusaders are from there!” the young griff exclaimed.

“Crusaders?” the human pondered for a second. “Oh, you mean the weird little play outfit Scootaloo and her friends do with the capes and stuff.”

“Weird? Play outfit? No sir, the CMC are some of the most helpful individuals in Equestria!” Terramar praised. Six could see his eyes sparkle from simply talking about them.

“I like the kids too, but I didn’t figure they’d have reach like this,” the human said, biting into another cracker.

“Oh, they do! Many creatures, beyond even just ponies, adore them!” the young griff replied.

“Well, that’s good for the kids, whatever makes Scoots happy,” the mailman said, running his tongue along his teeth.

“You know, they didn’t really tell me much about Ponyville itself last time they were here,” Terramar said slyly, shoving the large shell-plate towards the human. “I’d love to get to know more about the place. It sounds so awesome, especially with the School of Friendship... which I’m still not able to go to.”

Seaspray chuckled at the young griff’s angst, but the human simply looked across the stack of food. Had piles of shrimp, a few small lobsters, and crab legs, even a smoked eel. Stuff the Old World dined on as luxuries. The human grabbed two of the jumbo shrimps and quickly crunched them (tail and all) chewing through them with ease. He spoke with his mouth full, “Okay, the town itself isn’t much to write home about. You sure it’s that important to you?... Sidenote, you got any garlic butter or cocktail sauce with this? Never had the stuff, figured you guys might’ve.”

“Butthair? Sounds gross. I don’t even wanna know about the cock-stuff,” Terramar said, sticking out a tongue in disgust.

“No, it's butter—you know what, just forget about the sauces,” Six sighed, while Seaspray’s chuckles had ceased, him now giving a facepalm. Right there with ya. The human grabbed an entire fried filet, before taking a massive bite out of it. “What do ya wanna know?”

“What’s it like? I mean, there’s no ocean to go to. Maybe a few lakes and stuff but I guess being on dry land basically permanently is… weird—and also boring—but still exciting maybe?” Terramar’s typically normal tone was now rivalling Silverstream.

“Okay beakbrain, stop channeling your sister, jeez,” the human said, tugging off the back end of a lobster, before he fiddled with it, eyeing the food over as he spoke, “Living in Ponyville means there’s a lotta uh… green and grass and stuff. Sort of like this place but a lot more hills and rolling fields and farms.”

Terramar was starstruck. Kind of cute in a way, him being excited over something so trivial. “Like our kelp farms? But you would grow uh… apples and stuff, right?”

“Well they do. I grow potatoes on occasion,” Six said, looking around at the bustling festival. “You know, why don’t you go ask the other ponies? I mean, I’ve only been in the town for a few weeks or so.”

“They don’t really like it when a random griff runs up and pelts them with questions,” the young quadruped chuckled, a minor blush on his feathered cheeks. “Believe me, I know. Besides, they’re usually here on vacation anyways.”

“Yeah, and I’m stuck here, so might as well pelt me, right?” the human said, chomping through a crab leg with a loud crunch! devouring it, shell and all. Didn’t seem to hurt the human though, as he continued munching on it.

“W-well, I figured we were friends—”

“I’m screwing with you, kid,” the human hand waved. “You’re fine, unlike captain—where’d he go?”

The Courier noticed the trio was down one less, turning his gaze about until he soon spotted Seaspray in the crowd, being led by a small trio of armored hippogriffs. He watched intently as they ducked into a small shack built inside a gigantic hollowed-out tree stump.

“Six, you alright?” Terramar questioned.

“Yeah uh, give me a second kid,” the human said, getting up to follow the general. “I’ll tell you more later, alright?”

This was a dumb idea. Like, pretty dumb. There was no reason to go after him. Navies weren’t exactly a common thing in the Wasteland, even when factoring in the NCR’s might. To go and offer his help to them would be kind of completely stupid and useless. Still, might as well listen in, at least. That was the thought process going as he quietly entered into the large stump. He wasn’t exactly sneaking, but as he walked, his footsteps were far lighter, to the point the floorboards didn’t creak as he listened in.

“You know, I think you could mount this on a wall somewhere, General,” he heard a feminine voice muse with a chuckle.

“Please be serious about this,” the voice of Seaspray sighed back, followed by the clicking of his foreclaws on something wooden, either a table or flooring.

“I must agree,” a much more regal voice sounded out. It was stuffy, older than even the General’s, and masculine. “We can’t rest until the beast is dealt with.”

Six peered into the room. There was no door to open, thankfully, so the Courier looked in. Easily almost a dozen griffs were surrounding a round table with a large, severed portion of a tentacle laid out on it. It had the suckers on it; wasn’t wiggling any. Was that… octopus—no—the Kraken. Right. Same slimy bastard Sky Beak had mentioned.

“I managed to stick a few harpoons into the bugger, but it dived under, and you know how Krakens are when we’re in our seapony forms,” explained Seaspray to the older hippogriff. Said griff had the upper portion of a damned tuxedo on. Likely some delegate or high-class whatsit.

There was a small round of nods and agreements. The femgriff (only one in the room) poked at the tentacle with a foreclaw a few times, her yellow feathers shimmering as she did, “Can’t wait to see the rest of this thing out on a table.”

“It’ll happen by tomorrow, I intend on taking another voyage and not coming back until we have the monster’s body strapped to our hull,” Seaspray sighed. “I only need some proper rest, just for tonight.”

“Of course,” the older griff said, he had a small goatee of fur, looked a bit strange, though he reached up a claw and gently plucked at it in thought.

Six continued staring at the group. Could go back, enjoy the feast, leave this all be and such. Have some simple fun with Terramar and Sky Beakface and just… relax…

He saw a chalkboard in the corner of the room. Didn’t have much written on it, however he smiled internally as he spotted it.

Then again, calamari did sound nice…

…

Ah to hell with it.

He pulled out a bowie knife as he stepped over towards it.

SSSKKKKRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The small round of voices had fully silenced themselves to the worse-than-nails-on-a-chalkboard sound the Courier’s knife made as he ran it against the grain. Every hippogriff in the room turned to the bipedal being, who was now already stashing his knife away under his coat as he spoke.

“You all don’t know me, I assume?” he asked.

Obviously, the crowd stared at him with a mixture of cocked eyebrows, disbelief, intrigue, (from the femgriff) and even annoyance (from the oldtimer) Seaspray himself was uncertain, not making any movements.

“Right…” The human nodded, rubbing his gloved hands together, wiping the chalk dust off of the black leather of the gloves. “You all don’t know how I earn my living, then. Don’t know about the oddjobs I’ve taken.”

“Are you—are you offering to go out and kill that beast?” a hippogriff piped up from the back of the crowd, one of the ones the human didn’t pay attention to before entering.

“I’m not offering, it’s just what’s gonna happen. I was a pro-hunter in a way, made the Wasteland Omelets to prove it… not that you guys would know what those are,” he said, chuckling to himself. “Anyways, I’ll go out and kill this cephalopod of yours, but I want something in return.”

The quadrupeds looked between each other, still not certain.

Seaspray finally spoke up, his tone one of annoyance, “What do you want, Courier Six? Bits? Are you just some mercenary for hire after all?”

“No Seaspray, I don’t want your money,” the mailman replied with a smile. “I want to eat it.”

Seaspray stepped back in surprise at his words. “You want to eat the kraken?”

“You assure me I can do that, and I’ll bring its body right back to ya, on the beach, the head, the tentacles, the whole damn thing,” the human answered, giving a nod.

Immediately, the room began to laugh. It started with those in the back, and then slowly, but surely everygriff present cracked up. They chuckled and began to howl with laughter. Only Seaspray and the Courier remain silent, with the general looking over the jacketed figure with uncertainty, all the while the red eyes of the helmet glared back.

After almost a minute had passed, Six finally made his move.

BANG!

He had pulled out Lucky and unloaded a round into the ceiling of the room, with the round getting stuck in the thick wood. The ringing in everygriff’s ears silenced any further laughter, and they all stared at him in shock as he spun his ancient firearm in his hand, soon stashing it away in its holster.

“You all might find the concept funny, but I am a firm believer of keeping, and eating what you kill. That’s what a hunter does. He doesn’t waste,” he said, his tone was authoritative, not a hint of humor in it. “Do you all find the concept of wasting perfectly good meat funny? The concept of throwing away your own survivability because you’ve not had it rough enough to worry about your next meal?”

Seaspray’s eyes partly narrowed, a patriotic duty to speak swelling within him. “We are no stranger to famine, Courier Six. After a horrid dictator known as the Storm King forced us into our state of hiding, we had to learn how to adapt, to survive as you put it… Excuse my compatriots here, but I do think they find it strange a creature like you would somehow have the capacity to kill a monster which measures in the length of no less than forty claw paces.”

“If I can’t kill it, then you won’t have to worry about explaining about how wrong I was, now will you?” was the mailman’s simple response.

“So, you are willing to potentially put your life on the line for Seaquestria?” Seaspray questioned back, standing up as straight as he could, looking into the mailman’s lenses.

The human just pulled the rifle off his back, sitting the trail carbine down like a cane, resting his forearm on it as he leaned down a bit to match the hippogriff’s height. “I’m ready to go when you are, General.”

There was a long silence between the two. The only sound in the crowded room was the occasional deep breaths of the griffs, who looked between the two with uncertainty.

Finally, though, the quiet was broken. “I suppose you would make a fine addition to our navy.”

“I suppose so too, General.”

Author's Note

I know this is late but given this fic is a tribute to the show and anniversaries as a whole, happy 14th birthday, MLP: FiM! And happy early 14th birthday to New Vegas itself! Both of them definitely helped define 2010s online culture and I wouldn't have it any other way!