47 - Too Much Pink
Extended Holiday
Ch 47: Too Much Pink
Act 5
Luna walked through the Astral Plane. The dreams and nightmares of her ponies lay under hoof like stones in a road. The night was peaceful, as it had been for a very long time. But as she walked she came again to those three doors. Taze and Matthew’s were locked tight, but something strange seemed to be going on with... His door was slightly ajar, even somewhat inviting to the alicorn of the night. Curiously, Luna approached and placed a hoof on the surface only for it to open with little effort. Cautiously, the Lunar princess stepped into the empty darkness that was his dream realm. Moments after clearing the door, it slammed violently shut behind her, making her jump.
“Welcome, Luna.” His voice called from the darkness.
“Where are you?” Luna asked, searching for the source.
“I am here. That is good enough for now.” She heard him sigh. “A lot of things have been on my mind lately.”
“What sort of things?” she asked.
“Questions. For myself, for others, for Celestia, and for you.”
“You have only to ask,” Luna said, finding herself a little nervous in this dreamscape.
“It’s nothing complex. It’s simple.” He gave a low chuckle. “But it’s not… One question for you.”
“I cannot answer if you will not ask,” she replied.
“What is my name?”
“You are Lord Hammer Strike. So you have always been,” she said simply.
“Are you sure of that?”
“Of course I am. I’ve known you almost my whole life.”
The shadows cleared in front of her to reveal Shawn standing there. His eyes were baggy, bloodshot, and worn. He was clearly on the brink of exhaustion. “Are you sure of that?” He asked again.
Luna was unable to respond as she looked on the human. He seemed so tired, so lost. And deep within those eyes, in this place at least, she could see fear, uncertainty, and a weariness that could never be satisfied no matter how long a person may rest. It reminded her very much of herself before she became Nightmare Moon.
“Don’t fret. I couldn’t even answer the question.” He chuckled; a hollow sounding thing. She shuddered at it. Concern and worry sprung to the forefront of her mind as she looked upon her childhood hero. Something was clearly wrong.
“Even asleep you look as though you haven’t slept for days.”
“I’ve looked like this for years.” He sighed. “At least from what I remember. Born human, but I’ve lived as Hammer Strike longer. Typically, a person only has one name. Sometimes they get an alias. But what answer can you give when you have two?” He smiled weakly. “I’ve been thinking for a long time. And I still have so much to think on. But that question…” He shook his head. “It’s been months and I expect my family back home has figured me dead. I don’t expect to return anymore. And after so long, I don’t think I could anymore, even if I do want to.”
“You shouldn’t give up,” Luna pushed.
“I can’t return,” He said once again.
“My teacher would call that defeatist.”
“Your teacher would call that leaving family and friends a second time,” Shawn shot back. “I’ve left family and friends and I haven’t seen them in forty years almost. I’ve grieved, they have as well, and should I go back, it will only bring more pain in the end. And not just to them!”
“Why would you need to leave them again?” Luna asked.
“Not them. I would have to leave everyone I have met here. And I would have to leave you, and your sister. You’re both like family to me. … I can’t leave my family again.”
Luna was at a loss for words. The sentiment of the statement seemed foreign coming from the mouth of a being she had known to be so distant, satirical, and sarcastic.
“I can see it in your eyes,” He said, disappearing into the shadows once again, only to re-emerge as Hammer Strike. ‘I’m going to end up like this in the end. To stay. So I might as well start now,’ He thought to himself.
“Why force yourself to choose if you dislike it?” Luna asked him.
“I don’t. I’m still getting over the whole adjustment.” He chuckled lightly. “Even in a dream the change is weird from two to four.”
“We would never fault you for wishing to go back,” Luna said. She could not bear to see someone she loved so deeply in so much pain.
“I wouldn’t want to stay,” he replied, sighing. “I’ve found home here. And this one, I shall keep.”
“You want us to what, sir?” Fox Feather asked, her expression horrified. “Thou, Thou desirest for us to remain here, surrounded by Gryphons, while Grif and thee go into Ponyville?” She looked right at Hammer Strike. “You do know what we represent to the Gryphons, right?”
“You do know what I represent to the changelings, right?.” Hammer shot back with a small smirk.
“Touche is what thou desirest me to say. Yet you have changeling guards and a hive that is loyal to thee.” She narrowed her eyes. “I-” She closed her eyes and took a breath at the blank expression Hammer Strike was giving her. “I shall try to speak in the modern language.” She put out a strained smile. “What if they choose to turn on you? Because at the moment, our commander is abroad, and we are all still on edge.” She ducked a little as a Gryphon flew overhead.
“Should any turn on me, I am positive I can… deal, with them.” He said, an ember bursting to life in the space between the two before extinguishing itself.
“Yes, I suppose you could. But what could we do if they turn on us?” Fox Feather asked, scanning their surroundings with military precision. “This, This is very much confusing. The entire team remembers this area being populated and cultivated. Now, it is simply a pile of ruins. A forest that could very well be a playground for Discord sits just outside our ruined walls. And we have Gryphons, our former mortal enemies, living inside those very walls with us. When you get back, I am requesting leave for the entire Slayers unit until Pensword returns. Let us visit our old homes and lands so we can honor the past.” She leaned in and whispered “Might help the nerves as well.”
“You're asking as though I wouldn’t allow it,” Hammer replied. “Go ahead. Do what you please. Pensword will return in a few days.”
Fox Feather blinked in surprise. “Very well. We shall pack and leave once you return from your trip to Ponyville,” she said, turning an about face and trotting quickly toward her unit. Hammer Strike noticed that her left wing twitched a little every time she saw a Gryphon.
“Do you trust Shrial?” Grif asked as he approached the group, having picked up on the conversation with his warrior’s hearing … though it didn’t hurt having the unit under surveillance either.
Fox Feather froze and turned around. “Yes. And you should know. She fought by our- by your side. She earned our respect, and our trust. But while she has, this band of sixty Gryphons have not. Nor have they shown any signs of loyalty in either direction. We fought Gryphons in this size of a flock many times.” She sighed and looked Grif in the eye, her expression a mixture of anger, frustration, and sorrow. “... We have not yet left the war behind.”
Grif nodded as the understanding dawned. After all, he had only just been able to put that behind him recently. He could only imagine how much harder it had to be for ponies like this. “Shrial carries my authority. Should any trouble arise, just ask her. And if an emergency comes up,” Grif carefully plucked one of his feathers and offered it to her. “This should give you enough authority to deal with it.”
“Of ... of course.” Fox Feather replied as she took the feather.
“Don’t worry, Foxy. They’ll behave themselves.” Grif smiled as he messed up her mane with a clawed hand. “Let’s go,” he said, turning to Hammer Strike.
Thirty minutes after Lord Hammer Strike and Grif had left, Night Prism stood tending to the memorial field. Flags peppered the landscape, each with a story and memory to tell from the war. He stood in full dress armor as he moved around with care, slowly fluffing the flags, and making sure that there were no new holes or tears in the fabric. This field had become his small way of trying to relax and avoid the Gryphons. He could tell that they were different from the monsters they had fought, but he could not help remembering the abominable acts their ancestors had committed during the war. He paused, his left ear swiveling. After a quick scan, he shrugged and made his way further along the memorial.
Further in, a rusty brown gryphon snuck out from undercover as he picked his way through the flags, his gaze intent. At last he stopped, catching his breath. “Found you,” he whispered as he reached out to claim his prize.
“Excuse me, can I help you?”
The gryphon spun around, startled. His talons were poised to strike. It took a few moments for him to calm down enough to lower them.
In that movement, Night Prism had raised his own wings in a defensive stance that would have pushed the attacker away, even as he worked out a counterstrike in his mind. Fortunately, the need for such a reaction never arose. Much to his shock, the Gryphon had actually lowered his talons. Stunned, Night Prism did the first thing that came to mind. “Name and rank,” he demanded, falling back on his old military habits.
“Rusty Talon: Frontline Cleaver.”
“Front...” Night Prism shook his head, then turned back to the flags. “A thousand years and history has changed on me,” he said as he moved a wing to smooth out the flag. “Tell me. Why were you after this flag? Know you not that a Unit’s flag is their honor?”
“And what about a clan’s flag?” the gryphon asked, pointing with an extended talon. “That flag cost my entire family their honor and their place in Gryphonia after the war.”
Night Prism snorted. “A Gryphon that still knows their history. I thought everyone had forgotten. Yet a thousand years have passed and you still recognize this flag.” He looked at the cloth in question. “Do you know what your Clan leader did that caused this flag to be captured and given as our stewardship to hold?”
“He went to war, like he was ordered to. Like every foot soldier was ordered to.”
“Yes,” Night Prism replied as he moved to the flag next to it. “Tell me, do you recognize this flag?” The white eye of a Thestral shone prominently in the center with a black slitted pupil, surrounded by the brown horseshoe of the Earth Ponies. The blue wings of a Pegasus stretched out on either side, and a purple Unicorn horn shone brightly above the eye. The moon and sun shone in harmony above the cluster, dotted by stars. A pair of Gryphon wings lay underneath, frayed and worn, as if they had recently been tread upon. The Background shone a bloody red.
“I heard stories about that flag. During the war, its bearers were a unit that stopped the advances on Equestria at its main front. They took Fort Triumph and cut off reinforcements to the invasion.”
“Yes,” Night Prism replied. “That, is my unit’s flag. You can balk if you wish, but it is the truth. Pensword brought us back with him somehow. We don’t know how, we only know that it happened. And now that you know who I am and what unit I come from, I can tell you why your clan’s flag sits next to our colors.” Night Prism paused, taking a deep breath as the old memories returned. “That flag was present in the extermination of a pony settlement called Mountainside Falls,” he said, turning his head to look at the Gryphon. “What does Gryphonian history have to say about that town? About that day?” He asked, his voice a neutral monotone.
“Nothing. I’ve never heard of it,” Rusty Talon said.
“Talk to Grif later when he gets back.” Night Prism replied, looking at the flags as he slipped further into the past. “Ask him to tell you about the day he saw fully what your Empire of old had planned for this land.” He looked at Rusty Talon, his expression unreadable. “The carnage, the burials … I will never forget those images from that day. Now, come along. My time here is about over, and Animal Control is due to take up guarding the flags. You can feel free to follow me to the change of guard. After that, I am sure she will be happy to give you the full tour.”
The gryphon followed wordlessly behind. It was clear enough his window of opportunity had passed.
“Is it just me, or does the town seem a bit empty?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Was there another rabbit stampede?” Grif asked looking around. “Something seems to have hopped through here.”
“I don’t think rabbits have hooves.,” Hammer Strike said, pointing towards the circular prints in the ground.
“Point taken.”
“Take a quick flight around. Figure out where everyone is.”
Grif nodded and took to the air. He made a quick lap around town before his sharp eyes picked up activity. “Town hall!” he called to Hammer Strike.
“I’ll meet you there!” He called back as he started to walk.
Soon enough they found themselves at the Town Hall. The doors to city hall opened a few minutes later, revealing six familiar mares, and oddly enough, a board covered in freshly dried paint.
“Watching paint dry?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud.
“Yup!” Pinkie Pie answered cheerfully.
“...Interesting choice of pastimes. Not really what I’d expect for Pinky or Rainbow Dash though,” Grif noted.
“Some experiment of yours, Twilight? Or did we just happen about at an interesting time?” Hammer questioned curiously.
“Aparently Pinkie Pie found this magical mirror pool. It let her make copies of herself,” Twilight said. “We used the paint to find out which Pinkie Pie was the real one and send the rest back.”
“Well, if it worked, it worked.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Other than that, how’s it going around here?”
“It’s probably gonna take some time to clean everything up and get everypony calmed down again,” Applejack noted. “And I still got a barn that needs raising.”
“Considering the town seems to be on lockdown, good luck with that,” Hammer Strike said wryly.
“So what brings you two here?” Twilight asked.
Grif took one look at Rarity and coughed “Nothing ... nothing at all, just out for a … a delivery!” Grif said, his face switching from worried to relieved. “Yeah. Zecora sent along some medicine for the old one.”
“Isn’t that a bit disrespectful?” Twilight asked.
“Calling an elder ‘old one’ actually is a term of respect,” Rainbow noted. “Gilda said it was to acknowledge they’ve lived so long and experienced so much.”
“And you, Lord Hammer Strike?” Rarity asked.
“I thought a visit was in order.” He replied, shrugging.
“Well, as you can see, the town’s not at its best,” Twilight said, motioning to the damage left by the pinkie stampede.
“You should see New Unity, then,” Hammer replied. It hasn’t been at its best for a long time.”
Pinkie Pie burst out laughing. “Good one, Strikey.”
“Well, there was my one joke of the month.”
“Anyway, I’d better go make sure the weather team is getting re-organized,” Rainbow said before flying away.
Grif made a beeline for the hospital as soon the the opportunity presented itself. He nodded to Nurse Red Heart as he entered. “I have a medical delivery for the old one from Zecora,” he said, handing her the pouch. “Is she awake? I’d like to speak with her.”
A loud stream of curses echoed down the hall, punctuated by a few shrieks here and there. “... She’s awake, alright.” Red Heart said, sighing. “The poor dear’s been dealing with a lot of pain. I’m afraid the infection may be starting to spread.”
“It will be set aright,” Grif said, his voice not leaving room for doubts. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the hall.
“By all means. She’s been anxious to hear from you. Aside from her daughter, you’re about the only one she really wants to see.”
“Thank you.” Grif nodded to Red Heart before heading down the hall. He stopped at the door but didn’t knock. He simply waited to see how long before she knew he was there.
She shrieked a not so nice word in Phrench “I already told you, I don’t want visitors.”
“Très bien, madame. Je suis désolé d'être un Bothor,” (very well, madam. I am sorry to be a bother) Grif responded.
A stunned silence filled the air for a few seconds, then she spoke. “Get in here, Grif. We have much to discuss.”
Grif laughed as he opened the door. “Greetings, old one. I see you're still spry as a fledgling on their first flight.”
“I had a good teacher,” She said, wincing as her leg twitched.
“Thalia will be back in time,” he said upon seeing her wince as he entered the room. He took the seat beside the bed.
“Even if she’s not, at the very least, I’ll still be able to see her before the worst comes. But on to lighter matters. Judging by your manner and cheerful appearance, I am assuming things went well? Tell me what happened.”
Grif took his time to recount the events to her. He held back nothing, telling her what he had learned and what he had feared. It took him a good half an hour before he was satisfied. Then he lowered his head to her and spread his talons. “And that is all there is to tell. Tell me, old one. Have I been proven strong, or proven weak?”
A merry twinkle shone in her eye as she looked on him. “Why both, of course.” She said, chuckling. “No warrior can truly rise to greatness without acknowledging his faults and working past them. It sounds like you have begun your own journey along that path. And if all goes well, I hope Thalia shall do the same by the time she returns.”
“Yes, Thalia,” Grif said. “I will have much to answer for when she returns. The way I treated her was beyond reprehensible.”
“Impulsive, yes. Reprehensible? No.” She said, shaking her head. She tensed a moment as another spasm of pain raced up her leg. “The old laws still teach best at times. An eye for an eye. If you do not show the proper respect, you do not receive respect in return.”
“During the war, I saw first hand how females were treated. On the Isles it was less distinct. Females had more rights, but even there they were repressed. When I saw Shrial quivering and begging for death, I swore to myself that I would never be the kind of monster to treat a female that way, to beat them down. Such a thing...” Grif looked away. “It was wrong then, and it was wrong with your daughter.”
“There is a difference between oppression and self defense. As I understand it, you were defending something you loved. And in dealing with the rigors of war, you succumbed to indignation. It is a natural reaction for one at your age.” She chuckled. “It certainly was for me.”
“If it is not too personal, what was your husband like? You say he was battle born, but you speak fondly of him. I thought battle born where to be feared and avoided?” Grif asked “At least that’s what Graf used to say.”
Kalima’s eyes grew distant for a time as she gazed across the room to the small stand with its flower fixture and drawer.
“He was a kind soul. All he ever wanted was to live a peaceful life and protect the ones he loved. We were close friends as children. But the feather was more a curse than a gift to him. Many shunned him. Others would challenge him constantly to battle. A time came when he finally stood up and refused. He was sick and tired of it all. The next morning I found out he had gone. His father had sent him off to join the military and receive ‘special training.’” She spat. “I did not see him again for a very long time. I waited for decades and continued to grow in my own right as a warrior. Many men sought me, but I would refuse them all. Their show of arms disgusted me. Such actions were not taken kindly. And it was only a matter of time before I raised the ire of one suitor too many. I was ambushed on the road. What happened next, I prefer not to speak of. I dragged myself back towards the village, but the journey was several miles by foot. My wings were in no condition to fly. I collapsed and awaited my fate.”
“That’s disgraceful. I don’t see how anyone could let that happen,” Grif growled.
“I was not well loved by the village. My parents had died when I was young, but I had learned enough to be able to stand on my own and earn my keep. My beauty and self sufficiency made the other females jealous. And the men sought only to tame me for a trophy. After I led the only battle born our village had ever had towards a path of peace, I had been marked. But what happened to them, even they did not deserve.” A tear fell down her cheek, a pearl in the evening light.
“I awoke in a combat tent. One of the Old ones of the time, a healer who kept to the ancient ways, had tended to my wounds and watched over me. I was feverish. But when I was awake, I could not help but smile. For I could see the face of my beloved Charell, just as he’d been all those years ago. He wept and smiled, and I would try to comfort him, only to fall into blackness again. In time, I healed, and was finally aware enough to focus on my surroundings. An officer walked in. His armor creaked and clinked, even as his cloak spread across his back. A scar ran down his face under the eye and onto his beak. He asked if I was well, and I responded I would be better had I been able to kill the dishonorable dogs. He chuckled and told me I had spirit. Then he introduced me to the healer before informing me that I would be joining them in their march after I had healed enough.”
“Who were you battling?” Grif asked, before bashfully pulling back. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You mean my assailants, or the warriors who had saved my life?”
“If they were marching then there must have been a battle.” Grif noted. “Was the entire band to meet your assailants?”
“They were an escort for a military hero who had recently earned the golden talon for his acts of valor against the changelings and diamond dogs. The commander was a reclusive creature, and did not wish to see me. Besides that, I was confined to my tent all the same until the medicine man had given approval for me to leave.” She chuckled as Red Heart made her way carefully into the room.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the medicine is ready.”
Grif looked out the window and stood up suddenly. He had not realized how much time had passed in their visit. “I should go. I have things that I need to do before I return. But I will be back for the rest of this story, old one,” Grif said, bowing his head in respect.
“I am ... looking forward to it.” Kalima said, hissing as the salve was applied before letting out a happy sigh of contentment. “Until next time, young warrior.” She said, laying her head back on her pillows. A few seconds later, she was fast asleep.
Rarity had adjourned to her shop after dealing with the Pinkie Problem. The others were placing Tom the boulder over the hole to keep any other ponies from using the Mirror Pond. She paused as she took up some of her needles and sidled over to her latest project. She waved the needles with a flourish, bobbing and weaving as she danced around the mannequin. She paused suddenly as she realized she had been using the steps from Grif’s training. She laughed to herself, swishing her needle triumphantly through the air in a reverse parry before stabbing at her creation once more, skillfully sewing it up. The suit was her own design based on the sketches from various fencing masters of old. She hummed happily in her work, knowing that Sweetie Bell was away at Sweet Apple Acres for another meeting with her friends.
Meanwhile, Cheerilee sat at Berry’s tavern with her head on the table as she spoke to her sister. “How can I teach with the forest being built, more troops filing in, and beings that fought in two wars traveling about? I can’t compete with all these questions about events that even I’m finding it hard to track reliable information for. Let alone the rumor that there are even more Gryphons in the forest. After Gilda’s little encounter with the others, how will the entire town handle so many at once?”
“They seemed fine during winter wrap up,” Grif commented as he entered the bar. He saluted in her general direction with two talons. “Pleasure as always, Cheerilee.”
Cheerilee glared at Grif while Berry Punch smiled. “The usual?” She asked with a grin. “What brings you back to my place? I thought you would’ve at least fixed the towers of the ruins and claimed them as your roost.”
“Berry, you make the best raspberry punch I’ve tasted in over a thousand years. And honestly, you think the kids would forgive me if I didn’t have another story for them?” Grif laughed, taking the glass once Berry placed it in front of him. He dropped a golden beak. “Here. Offer this to the historical society. And keep the change.”
“Will do. I told them that you were busy creating history rebuilding the old capital of Equestria. At least that’s what a half dozen guards said when they last came in.” She paused and looked at the money. “My mother told me about these. I guess I could hand it over to the Professor next time he’s in town. Or maybe Clockwork the next time I see him. He may run the clocks in town, but he sure has a knack for history,” she replied, taking the beak.
Cheerilee did not move her head and her voice was still muffled. “What story are you going to use to disrupt my class next?” She shook her head, shaking the table as it shifted from side to side before looking up with a grin. “At least you have history to talk about... “ She frowned, then set her head on the table again with a loud thump. “Which is worst: Aliens, or living history? At least the three heroes are encouraging the study of history in my classes.”
“I’m not going back to the war just yet,” Grif said, taking a gulp. “That was something those kids aren't ready for. Different equestria. Different me.” He paused as his face darkened. “And don’t call me a hero. I’m not. I’m just a survivor.”
“Well, that is good to hear. I still need to teach something, after all. The town wants to do a section on Equestria a thousand years ago,” Cheerilee muttered with a snort. “Which is why I am nursing a Ginger Fizz and talking to my sister. You wouldn’t be willing to speak about that time, would you?” She asked sarcastically.
“From what I know,” Grif said. “I grew up in the Northern Isles before they were a part of Equestria. I spent maybe five years in the country before the war. Hammerstrike, however, he spent over thirty years in that environment.”
Berry looked at Grif. “So what you’re trying to say is that we should go ask Hammer Strike to teach a lesson?” She smiled. “See, Sis, I told you they would help.”
“I don’t need help.” Cheerilee cried out as she slouched down a little more. “I got my cutie mark as a teacher. I should be able to handle this on my own. Besides, how do I know they’ll keep order on my students and not, well, overreact like the Gryphon cubs did with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon? They were not right to tease them, but taking it to a fight was just going too far.”
“You think I enjoyed that, Cheerilee? I’m working from scraps, trying to build something respectable. I did warn everyone for a reason. It’s going to take years, possibly generations, to get the culture shock out of the way before those cubs, or even their cubs, will be able to react properly.” Grif sighed. “And your history books aren't worth the paper they're printed on.”
“You mean all two pages?” She retorted. “That is what it seems like. You won’t believe the trouble I’m having trying to find anything better then old mare’s tales or legends as trustworthy as this King Arthur the humans spoke of.”
“Actually, King Arthur has more fact than the info Celestia spoon-fed you guys.” Grif laughed.
“What are you implying by that?” A voice from the side spoke up. From deep in the shadows, Hard Shell trotted out, smiling from ear to ear. “I was hoping to see the teacher here tear a new one about this legend. And So what if Celestia has? Doesn’t she have the right to protect her subjects from knowledge that could destroy us?”
“Ignorance destroys. Knowledge protects,” Grif responded. “The unprepared are the first to fall. He who sees the danger coming lives on to tell his story”
“So, does everypony stand on these towers of knowledge? I’d say not. Let those judged worthy stand. Otherwise, we’ll just have a bunch of ponies crying Timberwolf. It would be utter mayhem to have so many who could abuse the gift. Knowledge is a dangerous thing, and one that shouldn’t be open to just any mind. My pa taught me that. Kept me out of trouble and working hard running the family business. Miss Cheerilee here is one of those gatekeepers. One who I would say to listen to. She’s got a right head on for distrusting you newcomers.”
“Actually,” Miss Cheerilee spoke up, her tone heated, her expression shocked. “My teaching is open to all. I want every one of my students to learn as much as they can. To blossom into the bright stallions and mares of the future. Just because I see fiction as a pastime doesn’t mean I distrust it. I enjoy a good story once in a while. What matters is what lessons you can learn from them. Stories can teach just as well as I can sometimes.” She looked up at Hard Shell and narrowed her eyes. “I recall that as a foal you only wanted the facts and knowledge to benefit your interests and that of your family business. Construction, wasn’t it?”
“Too bad. His son’s got a gift for entomology that will be squandered.” Grif grinned as he took another drink. “But that’s ignorance for you. The gifted fall by the wayside for the blindness of their parents sometimes.”
Hard Shell slammed his hoof onto the table, cracking it. “Don’t you dare talk about my son like that. I’m working day and night to save the money to send him to Manehatten for the best education. I know Construction seems like a laughable thing, but I graduated top of my class in Construction Management from Canterlot University.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or do you think I’m just another dumb construction worker who couldn’t do the math in my head? Do you know just how much time and effort it takes just to draw up the blueprints for a building?”
Grif winked at Cheerilee. “And if they had withheld that knowledge from you, could you have excelled at your career? If it was decided only so much construction methods can ever be learned and thats it, how would you have faired?”
“Impossible.” He growled. “You find new ways by accidents and by thinking. I’m talking about history and knowledge of the past. They’re not the same. Who should even care about what some mare did a thousand years ago on the first day of spring? Or some battle that happened so long ago no one else is alive to verify the facts?”
“Funny you should use that comparison,” Grif said, producing a scroll from his bag. “On the first day of spring a thousand years ago, the last brother of a line believed to be extinct after the raid of Mountainside Falls and his wife brought to birth a daughter. That daughter lived outside Equestria all her life, but she bore a set of twin sons, one whom re-emigrated back to equestria and fathered a bloodline of faithful pegasus guard ponies right up till his descendent was injured during the Lunar Rebellion. The stallion in question became a postal delivery stallion, and eventually fathered a long line of faithful delivery ponies ending with…” Grif cleared his voice in a forced regal fashion. “Lady Derpy Hooves of Ponyville: daughter to Lord Clever Hooves and Lady Sunny Daisy.” Grif looked on as the three ponies bore the same shell shocked expression. “Sometimes the facts of the past can bring hidden truths to light for the future.”
Hard Shell snorted. “A likely story. We all have tales and legends for our families. It still doesn't make them any more real. Only those with the strength and the will can write history. And they always write it the way that they want it to be.” He turned and started to leave. “History is nothing more than a bunch of tall tales the winners want to brag about to the world for their gain. So why should I care about it?”
The sound of shattering glass rang through the bar. Grif’s hand bled as fragments tinkled on the table, some dyed red as his blood mixed with the remains of the juice.
Cheerilee sighed. “He’s always had that attitude, even as a foal graduating school. He only cared about the things he could see, hear, feel, taste, and smell. The only aspect he enjoyed in Social Studies was the design of government in Equestria. Other than that, he hated the stuff. ‘Too fluid,’ he called it.”
Grif’s voice was cold and quiet. “Why should you care? Tell me, Hard Shell. How many years of your life have you been under the whip? Have your foals and your wife been forced to work with you in the blazing sun until you are no longer able to move? Or perhaps your overseer is feeling particularly hungry, in which case, you end your service to an emperor you’ve never met, but belonged to since birth, on his supper table?” Grif asked as berry rushed to get a wet towel for his talons.
Hard Shell never broke his stride. “Never need to worry. Equestria will never face that. The past happened. Let it stay there,” He said coolly as he left the tavern.
“...I sent friends to their deaths so people like that could spit on their graves.” Grif growled in frustration.
Cheerliee waited for the doors to close. “Hard Shell. Nothing gets through the shell he doesn’t like.” She paused. “Was… was it as bad as the history books say? Or the papers about what Pensword said? The towns that vanished before the war?” She looked at Grif. “It’s just exaggeration, right?”
“A few years before the war I visited a trading caravan from the empire. They came every few months and nobody thought anything of it. There was a butcher there selling meat. It was popular too, at first. Cheap prices, good amount of protein, no real fat. I’d considered buying some, myself. That is, until I walked past his tent. Just then, the flap opened for a minute. And do you know what I saw, Cheerilee?”
She shook her head, but she had a pretty good idea where this was going. Still, she pressed on, waiting for the answer.
“I saw two live ponies in a cage and several more carcasses on meat hooks being bled and skinned. I saw the meat being salted or smoked and prepared for sale. It was pony meat, Cheerilee. The empire was trying to feed us ponies.” Grif shuddered. “That was when my crusade against the empire began, I think. When I realised they could do that.”
Berry looked at the bar behind her, then back to Grif. “You need a stiff drink. Pick anything. It’s on the house” She muttered, looking a little pale.
Cheerilee could not speak. “That, that almost seems impossible.” She paused. “The Gryphons we learn about in school are nothing like what you described.”
“Berry, I’ll be fine. Pour yourself something. Cheerilee may need one too.” He turned to the pink teacher pony. “Thats primarily due to the fact that after losing the coast of Equestria the empire can’t feed itself without the fields just a bit south of the equator, which is Celestia’s center of power. The treaty signed between the countries states that if they ever do such a thing again, those fields will be razed to the ground. No fields, no war effort, starving populations. By the time they reached equestria they’d be begging to surrender for a mouthful of bread and a drop of water.” He smiled grimly “You see now why I don’t want to talk about the war with the foals? They're not ready for that yet. Adults are barely ready for that kind of realization.”
“No wonder Princess Celestia allowed this war to fade from memory. Such actions … they’re simply unheard of.” Cheerilee shook her head and looked at the table. “I might stay for one of your stories now. That is, if it’s uplifting and cheerful.”
“In a way, it is. A bit of cheer, a bit of adventure. It’s one of a set of seven. it’s called The Magician’s Nephew,” He said with a playful glint in his eye as he bandaged his talons.
“Then perhaps, just this once, I might stay.” It wasn’t a handshake. And it certainly wasn’t a call for peace. But it was a start.
Thalia groaned as a gentle nudge shook her frame. She idly batted it away with her claw. “Five more minutes, Grimbeak. I’ll switch with you then,” She mumbled. The nudging continued. When she still wouldn’t respond, a resounding bellow started her from her slumber.
“WAKE UP, GRYPHON!”
Thalia jumped into the air, her instincts on high alert as she whipped out her tomahawk and axe. Looking down, she eyed a black minotaur with red hair carefully, her eyes darting from the steer to the tree and back again. “... Big Guns?” She asked cautiously.
“Who else would it be?”
“And you’re … in your right mind?”
“Big Guns is just fine, Thalia. But he’s not happy.”
“And why is that?”
“You took the fun away from my battle.” He said, pointing to the husk of the tree. “And … you saved Big Guns. Which means Big Guns owes you big time.” He snorted and frowned. “Big Guns doesn’t like unpaid debts.”
Thalia cocked an eyebrow critically at the minotaur, then looked to the shattered remains of bark and petrified vines that he had once been only a few hours previously. A few stray tendrils still wove through the minotaur’s mane, pulsing red. “Just how far back to you remember, Big Guns?”
Big Guns spoke a word in a dialect Thalia had never heard before. “Long enough. Big Guns likes being strong, but … now all he wants to do is fight. Big Guns isn’t sure how he feels about that.” He bellowed out another word. “And Big Guns can’t stop talking like this!” He pounded the ground. That seemed to make him feel a little better. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes before looking up at Thalia. “You can come down, Thalia. Big Guns isn’t going to try to hurt you.”
She did so slowly, though she kept her weapons out just in case. “What happened?”
“I … Big Guns doesn’t know. He woke up like this. First the tree made Big Guns strong, but then … things get fuzzy.”
“But you remember how we met.”
“Yeah. Sorry I took you the wrong way,” Big Guns said. “Big Guns thought it would help. Clearly, Big Guns was wrong.”
“It had you under a spell. It wasn’t your fault. I just hope I’m not too late.”
“Why?”
“If I don’t get the ingredients I need, my mother will lose her leg at the very least. … Her life at most.”
Big Guns narrowed his eyes and snorted heavily. “That won’t happen.”
“It will if I don’t hurry. I have to get to the center of the garden. A zebra told me the plant I need to find is in a place where the waters meet. My best guess is we have to go to there.” She said, pointing to the lake. “It looks like all the streams we can see from here flow there, including the river from this wall.”
“You’re right. Big Guns went that way once when he was lost in the garden. There’s an island there. And a big tree. Ten times as big as Big Guns at least. Its roots were deep. Lots of branches and fruit. Some of em glowed. Others were all shrivelled and small. None of em were the same. It was … strange somehow …” He said, beginning to look distant. Thalia smacked him on the muzzle.
“Don’t you start that on me again. Last time you did, you tried to kill me.”
“... Sorry.” Big Guns said as he snapped back into focus. “I just remember the smell.”
“From that old pile of ashes?”
“Yes … no … well, maybe. It just … it’s like the fruit I had at the other tree too.”
“I guess that’s besides the point. Can you take me there? I have to hurry.”
Big Guns nodded. “Big Guns knows the way. He can get you there.
“Thank you.”
Hammer Strike, having literally gone to Ponyville for no reason, wandered about the town until he came across a very familiar shop. “Well then…” He said as he walked into the shop only to immediately be assaulted by a mask. The smell of ancient wood assaulted Hammer Strike’s nostrils briefly before falling off his face and onto the floor. The item in question was of the highest quality, carefully painted in a tan color similar to his fur coat. It stretched out, designed to cover the entire muzzle and face of the wearer. Above the base coat, intricately painted deep crimson lines ran beneath the eye sockets and a blue upside down arch met at a point between the eyes. Bits of a wild white mane had been carved into the top of the mask, giving a hauntingly serious tone to the piece as a whole.
“Welp,” He said, placing his hoof on the mask as he picked it up. After a brief examination, he placed it onto the shelf from which it had fallen. “Glad to see you’re still around,” He called out.
“Sorry about that. I’ve been working on fixing that mask shelf forever,” Epona said as she made her way over.
“Ah, no worries.” Hammer said with a shrug. “So how are things going around here?”
“Slowly.” Epona sighed.
“Still not much business, I take it?”
“Ponyville doesn’t seem to be as much of a hotspot as I imagined it would.”
“If it comes down to it, what do you plan to do?”
“If business doesn’t pick up soon, I’ll have to pack up and head for a bigger town. Or maybe a city.”
“Head over to New Unity.”
“New Unity?” Epona raised an eyebrow. “No offense Lord Hammer Strike, but if I can’t find business in Ponyville, I fail to see the opportunity in a fort. Nor can I pay the business fees required to operate in such an area.”
“You say that as though I would make you pay.” He chuckled. “It’s not just a fort. We are just starting it off that way. We plan to restore New Unity back to the city that it once was. I’m sure those around would enjoy buying some things closeby, rather than taking a trip back and forth through the Everfree. Morale might go up.” He shrugged. “I’d even let you stay in one of the rooms we’ve fixed in the castle until proper housing is set up.”
“That’s… incredibly generous of you, Lord Hammer Strike.” Epona said, a bit shell shocked.
“I still have more up my sleeve, but I’ll save that for when the time comes.”
“It will take a few weeks to get everything prepared. There is still the question of how I’d get Link to school every day,” she said uncertainly.
“I’m sure something can be figured out for that.”
“Well then ... I guess there’s no real reason not to,” she said, her voice a blend of confusion and excitement.
“If need be, I’ll even help you with the move. I’m sure moving a shop isn’t exactly light work.”
“No, it’s not. But it’ll take a few days at least to pack everything up,” Epona said. “I may have to call in my family to help.”
“It’ll be nice to have new faces in New Unity. When you arrive, just ask for me and I’ll show you around.”
“So be it. Thank you, your Lordship,” she said, bowing her head.
“Rule number one: no bowing,” He said. “Can’t stand it.”
“Oh, sorry.” Epona’s eyes widened, startled.
“Eh.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Just reminds me how some nobility want to be bowed to, and I am quite against it. I like talking face to face, rather than face to mane.”
Epona nodded “I’ll remember that.”
“So I shall see you in New Unity?”
“Definitely.”
“Then…” He said, reaching into his coat to pull out a small sack. “Here. To deal with any expenses before you arrive.” He said, tossing the coin to her. She opened the sack and her eyes widened once again.
“This is too much. Lord Hammer Strike, please-” She looked up just as the bell sounded. Hammer Strike had left the store.
Fort Triumph, if one were to look at it from the perspective of ancient Gryphonia, would have been shocked at all the Thestrals and half breeds that swarmed the building like ants on a colony converging at the heart of their hive. They were all meeting at the central fortress. A thousand years ago this section was reserved for only the Gryphon Emperor and his court. Today, something else would take place that would change the history of Equestria, and perhaps Equis itself, forever.
The high throne room looked nothing like Pensword remembered it. Apparently, upon hearing of Luna’s return, the Lion Tribe had gone to great lengths in preparation for a visit by their High Chieftess. The wood in the room had been painted a deep blue and the steel had been polished to a brilliant shine. Any gold in the room had been re-plated with fine silver. Black silk banners depicting various sacred animals hung in place of the one portraying the great clans of Gryphonia. The lion, or course, was the most prevalent creature in the decorations, considering who had been maintaining the fort for all these years.
The former red carpet was now a deep black edged with silver. The edges led to a raised platform where a throne had been set, painstakingly carved from oak, and plated with the finest ebony. Much like the banners, the throne depicted the tribal animals of the Thestrals in a near lifelike state. At the feet a fox and a small wolf sat as if holding the fine black cushion and the platform it lay on atop their heads. Just above the cushion a lion and manticore lay opposite one another to form the largest portion of the throne. A wyrm coiled up the sides of the backrest above the lion while a viper coiled viciously up the manticore’s tail, opposing the wyrm. A bear lay emblazoned in the wood and metal, standing on it’s legs and poised to strike. The very top of the throne depicted the upper portion of a head from a greater bear, positioned as though it where biting the throne. Actual bear fangs hung from the mouth, embedded into the woodwork of the throne. A star was carved into the center of the bear’s head, circled by a crescent moon.
“This ... this is for me?” Luna gently laid a hoof on the throne, awestruck at the care and hoof work done to create such a work of art.
“The unicorns crafted your sister’s throne from marble during your banishment. We thought for your return, your own ponies would put as much effort into your seat of power as they did for her,” Long mane, the current chieftess of the Lion Tribe, said. She was a tall strongly built mare, and Luna found her personality endearing. “We are not smiths of Lord Hammer Strike’s quality, but we have learned much over the years.”
“This is, by far, some of the most impressive craftsmanship I have ever seen,” Pensword whispered as he looked upon the throne. “I have seen artwork even from the minds of an alien. This rivals anything I could have hoped to behold before this day.”
“Your praise means a great deal, commander.” Long Mane smiled. “We have struggled to keep this place worthy of you and Lunar Fang both.”
“I can say that to my own eyes, this place is beyond worthy. It has become a refuge for Thestrals and other Ponies. Seeing it standing here after a thousand years and still not in ruins is testament enough to the willingness to learn new skills and keep this place intact, merely for the spirit of what it stands for.”
“Such was the desire of Piercing Roar,” she said. “That this fort would never fall to neglect.”
“Hard to believe this building is over a thousand years old,” Lunar Fang said as she looked around.
“Yeah. Some of the buildings I have seen look less than a century old,” Pensword muttered. “Looks good for the age it is.” He paused and shook his head. “I am getting off track.” He looked to Luna and whispered, hoping only she could hear. “When do you want to start the ceremony?”
“I think first another ceremony is needed,” Luna whispered back before standing up. She raised her head regally as she turned to address her friend. “Commander, if you would please lend me your sword.”
Pensword shifted quickly to a formal stance of attention, turning his head as he gripped the hilt with his mouth. He drew it with the metallic ring of steel and raised his head in salute, presenting the blade for his High Chieftess to claim.
Luna took the blade in her magic. “Kneel, Long Mane. For yourself, and for your clan.”
Long Mane looked to Luna speechlessly before she got down on her front knees. “Maintaining a compound of this magnitude is a task many soldiers could not accomplish so easily. But you and your clan have done it without complaint or question for a princess who was fallen to you, and a commander who you had no way of knowing when he would return. It is for this that we honor you, Long Mane, and all the Lion Tribe. Let this ceremony be a reminder that honor is a gift belonging to they who are noble and dedicated.”
Luna tapped the blade gently on each of Long Mane’s shoulders. Then, without a word, she turned the blade so the pommel faced her. Without a word of warning, she struck Long Mane on the cheek. Not enough to cause any serious damage, but hard enough to leave a mark. “And let that be a reminder to humble and protect you from the harm of extreme pride. Let it safeguard you from putting on airs as so many nobles have done in days past and present. Now, rise Long Mane, leader and first amongst the Knights Lunar. Protector and keeper of the Lunar Palace. Rise, lady knight,” Luna said, a shimmering blue aura surrounding her as her mane floated behind. With a graceful nod, she levitated the sword back to Pensword.
Long Mane rubbed her cheek as she rose to her feet. “Th… thank you, High Chieftess. My clan and I will strive to be worthy of this honor,” she stuttered.
Pensword took the blade and cleaned it before sliding it home. He could not hide the smile and pride as he watched a new order being formed before his eyes. A true Thestral order.
“Now, Dame Long Mane, your first task must be preparations for a ceremony tomorrow. We have many who wait to be elevated to nobility.” she smiled, happy that her actions as a ruler were being received so well by her subjects. After all they had faced, it was about time they had their chance to shine.
Due to the fact Hammer Strike was wondering about, it didn’t take long before Pinkie found her way towards him. The reason for the unexpected pop up? He had no idea.
“Hello, Strikey!” Pinkie greeted him cheerfully.
“Hello,” He replied. “How are things going?”
“Okay. Still trying to calm everypony down when they see me, though. You're the first pony who hasn’t screamed.”
“Have you ever heard me scream, or act very startled?”
“You’re right!” pinkie gasped. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you surprised!”
“That’s a record, then. I think I’ll try to keep that going. On that note, how goes progress?”
“Good,” Pinkie said. “I almost have the perfectest, biggest, most partiest party I ever planned ready!”
“Party?”
“For all your missed birthdays!” Pinkie said with a goofy smile.
“That’s quite a bit of parties you have to work with.”
“I know, right?” Pinkie said excitedly. “It’s going to be the bestest ever!”
“Sounds like you have it covered, then.”
“I’m all over it,” she said, bouncing happily. “Just trust your Aunty Pinkie Pie to get it done.”
“Hey, guys.” Grif smiled as the foals entered The Punch Bowl. “It’s been a while.”
The crowd of foals cheered, Pipsqueak’s father roaring louder than the rest. From the back, Cheerilee sat with her sister. A brown coated stallion with an hourglass cutie mark sat next to a grey pegasus mare with a yellow mane. The group soon quieted down to let Grif speak again.
“So, has everyone been good? Doing your homework and eating your broccoli?” Grif asked.
The responses from the foals were very mixed. Some agreed heartily. Others roved their eyes around the room as if they had not heard him ask.
“Well, I guess that will have to do for now. But kids, I’m adding a new rule.” Grif looked at Cheerilee and winked. “Your teacher is going to be letting me know. And if the entire class doesn’t keep up with their grades, we may have to stop the stories until everyone's caught up, understand?”
The foals agreed somewhat reluctantly.
“Okay,” Grif smiled. “So is everypony ready?” he asked. The room broke into a chorus of excited yeses and yays.
“Okay. Well, over the next few weeks, I will be telling you all a series of seven stories,” Grif said, sitting down in front of the foals. “Stories about a place different from equestria, even different from the humans’ world. This place is a land called Narnia. Our story begins a very very long time ago in a large human city known as London…”
Derpy looked over at the Stallion next to her. “Doctor?” She whispered. “He’s talking about that mythical city as well. Have you been to Narnia?”
The Stallion chuckled a little, shaking his head. “Oh no. It is a fantastic story by a rather revered Englishman. Just sit back and listen. I’m sure I’ve got a copy of the series back in the Tardis. You to read them whenever you like so you can revisit the stories again and again.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Derpy replied with a smile as she settled back into her seat. She soon lost herself in another world as Grif’s captivating voice led her through secret passages into a forest of trees, pools, and a different kind of magic.
Princess Celestia slowly sat down in her bed chamber. The moonlight shone brightly through the window as she gazed into the night sky. “My dear, dear sister,” She whispered. “How the world has changed. May your Thestrals bring you joy. The joy that was cut short long ago.” She turned to her desk and let her eyes wander over the parchments until they focused on one particular message. The letter was written with green ink and she smiled as she slowly began to fill out another parchment, occasionally returning to it for reference. She soon finished, rolled it up, sealed it with wax, and stamped it with the royal seal. A few seconds later she set it aflame, sending it off to some other location. Then her gaze shifted to another set of parchments in a manilla folder. She shook her head slowly. “I think it is time a few misplaced letters made their way around,” She muttered as she began reading through what looked like a report of some kind. “Though, if this stays the same course, I may have to let others take this problem into their hooves.”
She soon finished and levitated another sheet of parchment over, her pen poised . She looked at it, tapped it with her quill, and wrote a single word. Then she broke off and sighed dejectedly. “What am I to write to the human’s world if they do not return home? A letter of thanks? Assurance?” She shook her head. “Yet Earth seems to be more warlike than the Pegasi. Perhaps I should bear that in mind when I write.” She began to write again before groaning in frustration. A moment later the letter was incinerated. “I think I shall consult with the three humans later for their input. It seems only fair since it is about them, after all.”
She got up and looked towards another part of her quarters and smiled. There, above the fireplace, familiar faces beamed back down on her. Luna, Princess Cadence, Twilight as a foal, and even some more recent additions. Cadence stood with her new husband, Shining Armor, and her recently reunited siblings as Queen of the Crystal Empire. Lord Hammer Strike stood next to them as the foals played on his back, his expression still as flat as she remembered. She smiled as she walked up to the pictures. “May the day come where our timelines shall finally meet together, teacher.” She walked to the side of her bed where she began to move her wings and limbs in a slow, measured matter. After working out the kinks, she sighed and settled into her bed.
Yet something still nagged at the back of her mind. It was like she was waiting for another horseshoe to drop, but why? Lord Hammer Strike had forgiven her for letting her sister’s armor fall into decay, and even let her go on the lack of practice after he caught her up to speed. What was she missing? She tossed and turned in bed before shoving it away. Such things could wait for the morning. She needed her sleep to raise the sun at dawn.
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Good as all ways. keep up the great work! XD
mehehehe, I have a feeling it might be her weapon...
I see someones been following me around again.
Theres that Monty Python again. French, Go away or I will taunt you some more, paraphrased.
Looks like Hard Shell beleives,
<sunglasses>
In the Crab bucket.
Impressive, Big Guns survived, and gives vital details to the Garden. The tree of many fruits, I suspect are more like life fforce, representations of occupants, searchers for the garden. those that are withered, have succumbed to the greed within, and have been consumed by the garden in return?
Link and epona have a store in town? Then again, theres plenty of room out back for crossover characters to hide ou where its quiet. Talking about quiet. I suspect a certain fairy was victim of misdirection by a,
<sunglasses>
Navi, Gator.
REally impressive work on Lunas throne, its likely the oak wood was actually harder to carve than Celestias Marble, and if properly treated, might last longer as well, as the stone reacts with the atmosphere, water etc. The creation of the noble lines was expected, but the inclusion of preemptive punishment, that was an intresting twist, as in, notification of intent to ensure that honour was kept.
For what reqason did Pinkie pop up? Because she hadnt popped up before, and a few minites later, wouldve been in the way of someone else, which wouldve made them sad. I wonder how much worry she caused the Griffin Slayers, and how much a nightmare she gave the Griffins. In fact, I bet Luna is going to busy in that region over the next few nights, as Pinkie Pranks the worst Griffons in their dreams by doing Freddy, Freddies, and Arnie.
Im all out of toast. would you like a cupcake?
Grif starts story time for the children, in a pub? Given how those things origionated and were used over the centuaries, wonder how long before chapels and post offices turn up. As for The Magicians Nephew. How long before the CMC are trying to combine gem hunting, ring making and magic casting so that they can try and help Grif and freinds get home, if theyve found out yet that is, given that going there directly keeps failing, but the Nephew ended up in an intermediate world of pools. Which is weird, because SG:! uses an intermediate world for hubbing out, which Oniell likes, because it has great fishing spots.
If Celestia has teh targeting, ability and power to get a message back to Earth, correct spaciotemporal coordinates, how accurate is her targeting, given its mostly water, whats left is mostly ice, desert, steppe and other such unocuupied areas, and whats remaining, only a tiny fraction would be able to read the language. Yet another, major mention of at least another time loop coming up, having to have occured.
This episode has been brought to you by the number 7, and the music by Queen, Its a Kind Of Magic, and Hammer To Fall.
5797332
WOW! That is a lot to respond to, my friend. I can't speak for everything, but as for your theory on the fruits, that's not a bad idea. The true nature of the tree will be brought to light in due time. As for the CMC, I don't think we thought of that one. It's an interesting idea. One that we may need to address with the little rascals in the future. After all, magic can be a very dangerous thing, especially world traveling magic. I assume that for the language, Celestia can ask for help translating, or else may have done research in the matter during the time that the humans have been staying. Just a guess on my part of course. You will have to leave it up to the other authors to answer that question and most of your others as well. But I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and will enjoy the next once I'm done editing it and we finish our other additions.
5807423
Especially, as far as the CMC are concerned, a certain Blue box, looks just like a Wardrobe?
5807641
Oh dear.
Is it correct to assume said letter would be similar to how people can communicate over radio but not travel over radio waves?
Humans are warriors route. Interesting route.
5788094 they well return to earth eventually, for a time, the tears in the veil they fell through where very temporary so lasting effects on the earth, however there is a reason why earth is magicaly empty and it well have adverse effects on us when we go back. but the truth won't be discovered for some time yet.
5847584 So the route isn't having an adverse affect on the planet. Do to non-magical humans moving through the portal. Instead, it will have damaging effects on them. It would be interesting to see what effects it would have on them. But it makes me wonder, if crossing the veil into a world where the laws are different. Would mean no magic for them?
But then you leave an issue of how that creature did it. But I'm sure you have something to explain it.
The only other plot damage is, the whole U.S. citizen part. But if they can't return it may work out in the end. Since you only lose your citizenship if you take a title from another country. His military rank wouldn't count it would have been seen as sealing an alliance through the military. He would take the rank with him. But taking a lordship would be what hurts him. Most citizens are usually unaware the meaning of our citizenship is akin to royalty. But with him no longer being able to return I'm sure it can be ignored. Though it would have been interesting to have a pony, his wife. Given citizenship do to marriage. Oh well.
5848418 it's kinda the idea that the magic they have is where as equestria is so nourishing it feeds there magic, earth is the opposite it's so ravouness it devours magic from them, meaning they can only stay on earth for short periods of time before they die of what is essentialy starvation
5848560 Alright, I can roll with it.
5863097 reality check just commented on our story
i honestly don't know how to respond to this.
Celestia's a fool for letting such things fade from memory. History forgotten is history repeated, and it's bloodier every time it happens.
I have read the Chronicles on four separate occasions, along with many of Lewis' nonfiction works, and loved them every time. He has a particular style that is excellent for reading his works out loud (I think it actually gives them even more character). To be frank, the man was a genius, and the world will be hard pressed to find his equal in modern times.
Also, speaking of The Magician's Nephew, that Everfree garden seems to perhaps have been inspired by the one from The Magician's Nephew.
By the way, I've binge-read up to this far in about five days, but didn't even think to comment until now. I love this story.
8120574
I hated the final book in the Chronicles. I feel like it couldve had a much better ending. I WILL admit that it's the first and only time Ive seen a series end on such a low note though.