You are Anon, first Aufpasser of the Everfree Forest, and god do you need a fucking break.
In the weeks following what the local Ponyville papers had described generously as “possibly the most embarrassing humiliation suffered by Equestrian Royalty since the Changeling Invasion”, you have barely had a moment to yourself.
First thing was first! Of course, you needed to make sure your new digs were in order! Seceding from Equestria and humiliating their rulers had done little to endear you to the citizens of Ponyville, so staying at your old digs much longer was out of the question.
The star spiders were easy enough to deal with, a bit of citrus oil, a little bit of eucalyptus extract (Thanks Zecora), and you managed to get rid of most of them. Enough to make Celestia’s old bedroom livable again. It wasn't much, but it had a roof, and intact windows, and as far as you knew, it now had a lack of spiders, which you very much appreciated.
But now came the hard part, actually getting the place back into decent shape was not going to be an easy task. Certainly not one you were going to accomplish on your own. I mean, fuck, you couldn’t even keep the place clean on your own with how fuckoff massive it was even if it was in top condition. It was on your fourth or fifth attempt to do so anyway and almost getting crushed by falling debris for your troubles that you decided that you were going to need to hire some help.
Unfortunately, again you were on less than good terms with Equestria at large right now, and most ponies would probably not give you the time of day. And that meant you would have to look elsewhere.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You are still very much Anon, and you have just gotten off of an extended flight into the Griffin Empire, or more specifically, the capital city of Griffinstone. Not so much an empire anymore really, more just...a series of craggy, desolate mountainous villages. As it turned out, waging war against Equestria had royally fucked their economy, and with their last official king, Guto, losing some sort of sacred relic to a cyclops, they haven’t been able to recover and have just been languishing in a state of pseudo anarchy. Or at least, that was what you managed to glean out of the ratty ass in-flight pamphlet the Griffin pulling the chariot had conned you into paying two bits for said.
As you walk around the ruined remains of what was probably once a pretty cool mountain city, you see a number of Griffins skulking about, seeming either sorry for themselves or stuck up their own flanks. You attempt to address one of them, an older guy by the looks of it.
“Hey man, I’m looking for-”
“Fuck off monkey.” They don't even look at you, they just keep right on walking like they hadn't said anything at all. God damn, absolutely stone fucking cold. Gotta admit, you kind of admire that, it’s pretty based.
You approach another a few minutes later, a younger fellow, almost young enough to be called a...chick? Cub? Foal. You have no fucking idea with these things, to be honest.
“Hey Lil dude, I’m trying to find out where I can talk to someone in charge here. Can you point me in the right direction?”
He hums softly for a moment, slowly looking you up and down as he scratches his chin with a claw, almost seeming to appraise whether or not you are worth using profanity on. Eventually, he nods, sticking out a claw. “Ten bits, and I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“...you little fucker.”
Ten bits and some fairly discontented grumbling later, you manage to glean that the sort of de facto leader of the disenfranchised griffin communities seems to be a fellow by the name of Grampa Gruff. He isn't actually anyone's grandpa, apparently. It's more just an honorific title for being Really Fucking Old.
You make your way to where you were told you could find his home, internally swearing up and down to break that kid's leg if he was hustling you as you proceed to knock on the door. You hear clattering and squawking from within, and a particularly miserly, geezerly voice calls out with “Ah fuckin feathers, I’m comin!”
After a brief ruckus and some grumbling, the door opens, and indeed, an incredibly ancient-looking griffin appears from within the decaying hovel. He hacks his lung out before scowling up at you with his one good eye, the other scarred and milky. “And just what do you wa….oh, well if it isn’t the monkey thing what made a laughing stock of those prissy pony princesses.” he still sounds sour, but admittedly significantly less so.
You raise an eyebrow slowly, crossing your arms as you look down at the elder, asking as res[pectfully as you can muster in the face of such old-fuckery. “You’ve...heard of me then?”
“Well of course I’ve bloody heard of ya! You’re all the young folks about town have been talkin’ about all bloody week! Challenging a pony to rock paper scissors, I can’t believe they fell for the oldest one in the book!” he actually looks...a bit happy as he basks in the thought of their misery.
“Really now? I’m surprised, most people just told me to fuck off, and the ones that were willing to help charged me like, ten bits.”
The old griffin cackled softly at this, slapping your back. “My boy, we’re Griffins! An actual verbal response and ten bits for directions is practically a hero’s fucking welcome in these parts!”
You decide this is an excellent opportunity to press your luck and see how far your reputation can get you here. “Well, if you are interested, I was actually looking for some griffin folk in the market to make a few bits to help me rub some salt in the wound if you’d be game.”
He perks slightly more at the mention of bits, his grin becoming a bit more cynical, but no less pleased as he eyes you up appraisingly. “Really now, ya don’t say. Why don’t you come in, and tell me what you had in mind? I can’t guarantee anything of course, but if you slide a few of those bits my way, I can see about trying to convince some of the others to buy what you’re selling...”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You are, yup, still Anonymous, and boy did you get fucking lucky. As it turns out, there are two things that motivate a griffin more than anything else, Pure Unadulterated Spite, and the potential for profit. You just so happened to tap into both of those things with your...little proposal.
It was simple enough. You wanted about twenty or so Griffins to head back to the Everfree with you to help you renovate the castle and tend the grounds. In return for maintenance and defense of your property, you offered to grant the Griffins permission to settle the land in the proximity of the castle and to provide those settlers with Citizenship.
You are currently going down a fairly lengthy list of things to do with your...Lieutenants? Right claw griffins? They certainly seemed like the most dependable of the bunch. One is a male, going by the name of Gallus, who despite being quadrupedal and a bird cat creature, you can only describe as being a twink. He has a laid-back, sort of smarmy sarcastic way about him, but he’s intelligent from what you can glean, and he seems happy to be out here. Or well, anywhere but Griffonstone, for that matter. You have to admit, you see a bit of yourself in that attitude and you like the cut of his jib.
The other is a female, Gilda. You sort of remember her from that one time she visited Ponyville, but the two of you didn’t talk that much. Probably for the best that she doesn’t associate you with that visit, to be honest. She’s hotheaded, and honestly sort of downright nasty, and not in the hot way. But she’s ambitious and has that can-do attitude that only comes from really fucking hating someone's guts.
“Alright, Gallus, you are in charge of Alpha Team, you guys are going to be clearing rubble and preparing the way for me and Beta Team to come in and start repairs. Gilda, you’re Gamma Team. Get out there and keep an eye on the perimeter, let me know if anyone or anything that I would want to know about gets too close, and see if you can score dinner while you're at it. It’s been a long trip and I am sure we could all use something roasted and juicy.”
The two of them seem to understand their tasks well enough. Gallus gives a sort of mocking salute, rolling his eyes a tad as he stalks up to go gather his crew. “Yeah yeah, let’s get this over with…”
Gilda seems a bit more energetic, taking to the sky in front of you and licking her chops. “Hah, leave it to me Anon, Nothing is gonna get past us! As for the meat, I’ll try to save you some scraps, but no promises~” She taunts as she swoops off to go and see to her own group. God these birds are based as fuck, you kinda really dig it.
You give a soft sigh, looking over at the castle. It’s going to be a lot of work getting this place in working order. And then you’ll have to supervise the construction of proper housing outside of the castle proper for the next wave of settlers.
You just wanted some quiet, for God’s sake. Why does everything in horseyland have to be such a fucking ordeal.