An Equestrian Edda

by LordSpur

Windblown

Chapter 4: Windblown

“Come join the party in the dusts and the sand! Chip on your shoulder, sweat and dirt on your hands! Machines at slumber start to lumber outside, head full of numbers let the colors collide!
Come on down, and join the party tonight! We ain’t the kind to turn away from a fight! Chips on our shoulders, sweat and dirt on our hands, ‘cause we’re breaking down the borders as we light up the land!”
-Miracle of Sound, Breaking Down the Borders

More arrows flew in through the mouth of the cave. We were all line up against the cave walls, trying to get out of the way. Johanna was fuming. “Damn bastards, I’ll kill ‘em all!” Such violent vehemence was apparently unprecedented on the part of a pony, because Pyramid seemed shocked. “Give me a weapon, and I’ll spread their entrails across the dunes!”

Drifter sighed, then pulled up the sleeve of his faux-leather jacket. He used a bit of telekinesis to unhook the contraption connected to his forehoof and float it over to Johanna. “Hoofblade. Engage the switch here,” he demonstrated with telekinesis, and a short sword blade flipped out of a hidden compartment, “and viola! You’re armed.” He helped attach it to her front leg. She grinned viciously.

With assorted war cries, a group of about six bandits rushed up to us. They looked like ponies, but had their faces covered in wrapping. They seemed taller than my companions, their legs more slender, more like real horses than the anatomically odd ponies that seemed to be the primary inhabitants of this world.

Drifter’s eyes narrowed, and let fly with a pair of crossbow bolts. Two of the shrouded horses sprawled in the dirt. He floated two bolts out of his quiver and reloaded the spent pair, while simultaneously firing the other two. It all happened quite quickly, and with such ease and precision that my soldier’s eye could instantly tell he had been either highly trained, or extensively practiced.

Only two of the bandits were still standing, and Johanna extended her wings, laughing, as she flew towards them, blade in hoof. With a single swipe, she decapitated the first, then drove her other hoof into the other horse’s covered face. I heard a crunch, the bandit’s neck had been broken. Both of them slumped to the sands.

I inhaled, and my vision went red. I could smell their blood, and it smelled delicious. I could smell the rest of the bandits out there, nearly three times as many as those we had just killed, hiding out there in the darkness. Hiding like prey.

I was a skilled fighter, a combat veteran. I knew how to fight, but not in this body. Thankfully, this body came with a whole new set of instincts tied to the fight-or-flight response. And those instincts were telling me to dig.

I jammed my claws into the sand around me, furiously scraping at the surface until I could get my head and shoulders into the hole. I made my own tunnel under the sand, digging forward beneath the ground as fast as I had been able to walk back in my old life. Whatever its disadvantages, this was what this body had been made to do. And it had been made to do it fast.

Soon, I could smell the prey above me, and began to tunnel up from underneath them. There were eight or so of them, and I could faintly hear them from beneath the layers of sand.

“There’s three ponies inside the cave, master,” said the first voice, a baritone that I decided was most likely one of the Arabians.

A second voice, this one sounding more like a higher pitched yip, replied, “We should take them captive, sell them as slaves in the city!” The bastard sounded a bit over eager.

A third voice, this one lower than the first or second, most likely the leader said, “If they have found what our master wants in that tomb, then they cannot be allowed to remain alive. Kill them all.”

I took that as my cue. Letting my instincts take control, I felt my lower half curl up like a spring, and I leapt upwards, digging through the last layer of sand, jumping up several feet in the air. I couldn’t resist, the opportunity was too golden.

“SURPRISE, MUTHAFUCKAZ!” I shouted, swiping out with my claws to rip through the throat of the bandit leader. He stumbled, blood gushing from the now missing chunk of his wind pipe. Though the moon and stars had begun to come out, it didn’t seem all that dark to me, only slightly dimmer than it had been in the daylight. I could see that there were seven more left, four more shrouded horses, and three weird bipeds. They dressed in similar wrappings to the horses, though they only wore a turban looking piece of cloth over their heads, leaving their faces exposed. Their faces looked canine, and the coloring and fur of their exposed, backward bending hind legs, gave the impression that they were anthropomorphized Spotted Hyenas.

All of the bandits turned and looked at me. The horses held odd-looking scimitars in their mouths, while each of the hyenas held a short spear and a shield or a bow.

“Get him!” one of the hyenas barked, the one I had heard talking earlier. “Kill the demon!”

Now that’s just rude, I thought blithely. I sweeped out with my tail, tripping the lead hyena and pounced on him, claws and teeth ripping. He screamed, but not for long.

I rolled off the bloody corpse, then dove down and burrowed down to a shallow level and sprang back up underneath one of the horses, slashing at its underbelly. It toppled, whinnying like a real horse would. The other horses flinched, and I used their fear against them.

I brought my claws up in an uppercut, driving them under the jaw and up into the brain, killing the bandit instantly. I ducked underneath a slash from one of the remaining horses, and pulled it off its hooves with my tail. A quick slice opened up the veins in its neck.

The last horse backed up into the pair of remaining hyenas, and as one they advanced together. They formed a semicircle around me, trying to hem me in. If I turned to face any of them, the remaining two would strike.

Tactics, that implies training. That’s unlikely for a simple group of common killers. I followed my instincts, and they told me not to play their game. I spat in the left hyena’s face, and he reeled back, screaming, clutching at his face in agony.

I turned to the other two, drew in an enormous breath, puffed out my cheeks and blew a massive gust of wind over them. The very air itself seemed to freeze after leaving my lips, and soon the remaining bandits were frozen solid in blocks of ice. Superman breath? Awesome.

I looked over at the other hyena, who was still writhing on the sand. I could see steam rise from between his paws as he clutched at his face. Acid spit? Well damn, that’s scary. I put the poor dog down.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my back. I wheeled around, grasping at the arrow shaft embedded in my shoulder, tearing it out. I saw another of the hyenas staring at me, bow in hand, then yipped in fright as I turned around. He drew another arrow back, and I knew that this one would find my heart.

A gust of wind swooshed down from the night sky, a single slice of a steel blade cutting the arm that held the bow from the torso of the archer. The hyena howled in agony and fell to the sand, gushing blood from the stump. I lunged forward, crossing the considerable distance between us in an instant, and began to hack furiously at the dying creature. When it was over, I looked up at the armored pegasus and gave a lazy salute, mentally humming Flight of the Valkyries despite her warning. She dive bombed another of the horses, leaving it bleeding and dying, then flew back upwards, evading the arrows fired her way. I tunneled up from beneath the group of archers, taking them out in a furious storm of claws and hyper-acidic spittle.

It was then that I saw another form take off from the ground. It too had wings, though these were dark, the feathers falling out as if their owner had some nasty disease. It looked like the front half of the animal was that of a vulture, with the back half being some kind of hyena. It was easily one of the ugliest things I’d ever seen.

The desert griffin and Johanna began a sort of dog-fight in the air, circling and weaving toward and away from each other. It almost looked like an airshow, or a kind of oddly graceful dance. The griffin was just slightly faster, and was able to swoop inside her guard and slash with his scimitar, but the blade glanced off her armor. I could practically hear her laugh from here as she severed the ugly vulture head from its patchwork body.

Within the next couple of minutes, all of the bandits were either dead or fled. Pyramid huddled inside the cave, distinctly trying to ignore the carnage right before her eyes. I didn’t blame her. She was a civilian, and this was one of the most brutal fights I had ever been in. Mostly because of me, and the animal instincts that had lead me forward.

Johanna alighted beside me, folding her wings against her sides. “You fought fiercely,” she commented idly, as if she were discussing particularly boring weather, “without hesitation or mercy. It was more a slaughter than a fight, at least for you.”
She eyed me crossways. “You lacked discipline, went full force against them, withholding nothing, not even trying to watch your opponents and foresee their movements. Devastating against rabble like this, but against a master? You would be the one soaking the sands, I think.”

I sighed. I looked away from the torn and mangled flesh of one of the hyenas. “That wasn’t me,” I rasped. “It was this damn body. It drove me to dig, to fight, to kill,” I practically spat the word, “and that’s not how I fought back in my old life. I fought with restraint, because there were almost always civilians around that would get hurt if I didn’t. I fought with discipline, to accomplish the mission and protect the guys on my squad.” I turned and looked at her. “So you’re right. This wasn’t fighting. This wasn’t combat. This was a bloody slaughter, and do you want to know what the worst part was?”

I stared her directly in her sky blue eyes. “Part of me, the part of my mind that came with this new monster body, really enjoyed it. The monster wanted blood, wanted to, spill it, smell it, see it, taste it.” I looked down. “And it’s really good at it.” I stared at my claws. “I used to be a trained killer. Now I’m a fucking natural.”

Johanna stared at me for a moment, then walked around me, inspecting my body. “Where is the arrow that you were shot with?” She asked, a note of tension creeping into her voice.

“I ripped it out,” I mumbled quietly.

She shook her head, whinnying slightly. “Yes, I saw that. But where’s the wound?” It was only then that I realized that I hadn’t felt any pain from where the arrow had stabbed me for at least the last several minutes. I reached behind me, rubbing my hand gently over the spot, finding smooth, unmarked fur where I absolutely knew I had been hit. What the hell? It was then that I felt the serpent torque’s warmth against my arm, and remembered Odin’s words.

”As long as you remain true to your oath, this ring shall protect and strengthen you.”

“I think it’s the ring,” I said hesitantly. “I think it healed it. The magic or whatever, it healed the arrow wound.”

Johanna nodded in understanding. “Oaths hold power, especially to my father and elder brothers, Thor and Tyr.” I nodded. Maybe. And if that’s true, maybe Friendship really is Magic. It was then that I processed the fact that she had just referred to Odin as her father.

“Wait a damn second,” I held my claws out forward, gesturing like I was stopping traffic, “Odin’s your DAD?”

Johanna scoffed, falling back into the superior, self righteous, Johanna, the version of her that thought I was a moron and looked better as a furry snake-monster, the layer I was most familiar with. “Of course. Besides bearing the somewhat conspicuous title of All-Father, he’s the father of the Valkyries. We are his youngest children, his maiden daughters, and we serve in our father’s household the same way all good daughters would.”

Fifty years of feminism would disagree with you on that point, I mentally mumbled, though I doubt the First Wave got all the way to Asgard, not to mention the rest of it. I was smart enough to realize that it wasn’t worth arguing over.

“Now be still, the archer approaches,” she whispered. “They think of you as some kind of sentient guard dog, and me as a poor, time lost mare in need of rescue, and I swear on Tyr’s left hand that if you screw that up, there won’t be enough pieces of you to make a jigsaw puzzle.”

Harsh, I shuddered slightly. We turned together to look at the approaching Aimless Drifter. Well, not so aimless, he seemed to be a deadshot. The right ponified version of Wyatt Earp, that one. He was using his telekinesis to rifle through the bandits’ satchels, withdrawing pouches of coins, rations, the occasional knick-knack. I guess, as a professional mercenary, looting just goes with the territory. “C’mon back to the cave, I found something you guys and Miss Pyramid both need to see.”

We followed Drifter back to the cave at a comfortable trot, or in my case slither, and all congregated around the light of Pyramid’s torch. “So, what’s the deal? What’d you find?” I asked.

Drifter tilted his hat back with a hoof, then levitated up a small object. “I found this on one of the Arabians, I think he was their leader.” Inspecting the item, it revealed itself to be a piece of crystal set in some kind of silver pendant. Depending on the way the light hit it, it would shine either blood red or sky blue.

“While that’s definitely interesting, and looks impressive,” I remarked slowly, “what is the importance of this particular piece of jewelry?”

Pyramid filled the information in for me. “It’s the symbol of a priest of Ba’alrayne, the Arabian God of Life.” Johanna and I gave her a blank stare.

“Hello! Been set in stone for an unknown amount of centuries! Probably not getting all of the groundbreaking implications from the fact that one of the bandits apparently has something valuable that he most likely stole from a priest!” I said sarcastically.

Drift filled in the missing information for me. “Ba’alrayne is the chief god of the Arabian pantheon, the god of Rain and Blood, two things that are really important when you live in the desert.” He coughed. “These amulets are extremely rare, only worn by the highest ranking members of the clergy.”

I coughed. “So…”

Pyramid frowned. “So, it means that the leader didn’t steal from a priest, it means the leader was a priest.”

“Which means they most likely weren’t bandits,” Drift added quickly. “If they were led by a high ranked clergy stallion, that means they weren’t just wandering the dunes, looking for ponies to kill or enslave. They must have had a mission here.”

I nodded, understanding. “That fits with what I was able to make out from the conversation I heard. The leader said something about ‘searching the cavern for their Master’. That was why they were here, though I have no idea why.”

Johanna stared at Drifter and Pyramid. “Do you know who these ‘bandits’ were, then?” Her gaze implied that she would accept only one answer.

Drifter sighed. “This is part of a much greater situation that will take some time to explain.” By his expression, it was something he didn’t really feel like talking about.

“We have time,” I raised my eyebrows (at least I still had those) expectantly.

Drifter sighed, grumbling slightly. “Alright then. To start, have a look at this map.” He unfurled the map with his telekinesis, pointing with a hoof at the southern part of the continent labeled “Saddle Arabia.”

He nickered slightly and continued. “It isn’t shown here, but Saddle Arabia is actually far from unified in practical terms, it’s controlled by a wide variety of petty kingdoms, except for this area here,” he gestures at a large central portion between a pair of rivers and the sea. “This is the Trottoman Empire, and as it controls the most fertile region, as well as access to the sea, it’s the richest and most populous of the various states. All of the other kingdoms owe fealty to the Sultan, and so Saddle Arabia is ‘technically’ unified, but only in name.”

He coughed slightly. “Recently, the Sultan of the Trottoman Empire died without an heir. This lead to a succession crisis, with about a dozen rival claimants to the Palmwood Throne.

“The two most powerful and likely candidates are the High Cleric of Concanternople, the leader of the Arabian religion, and the Grand Vizier, the overseer of the various trade guilds, and the wealthiest creature in Saddle Arabia.”

He looked up at us then. “While there hasn’t been an open civil war yet, there have been a couple of skirmishes between the various factions. The High Cleric has the loyalty of the Royal Guard, while a significant portion of the Army follows the Grand Vizier. Both of them are trying to sway the other factions and gain the loyalty of the various kingdoms, while simultaneously trying to gather a big enough army.”

He rubbed his jaw with a hoof. “My mercenary company came down from Equestria to join the army of the Grand Vizier, and I took this exploration and guarding position as a side job while the company gets its contract sorted out.” His gaze turned dark.

“Since those guys were lead by a priest, I’d assume they were part of the Clerical faction.” He sighed. “I’ll have to report this to my commander.”

Pyramid glanced down at the map. “I have to send a letter to the University, so a stop will be appreciated.”

Drifter glanced at us. “You two would probably be welcome in the company. We’re always looking for new fighters.”

Johanna and I glanced at each other. Then I turned back and looked at Drifter. “What the hell, we’re in.”
***

It was a five day trek across the dunes to get to the camp. Thankfully, Aimless Drifter had looted the bandits of their supplies, specifically their water and food, so that we had enough to make our way through the desert.

It was, obviously, quite hot and dry. We made camp and slept during the hottest parts of the day, and traveled during the cooler mornings, evenings and nights. My body took to this schedule better than those of my companions, as I seemed to be naturally nocturnal. Alternatively, the heat of the daytime sun made my black fur overheat, and hurt my apparently sensitive eyes. Remembering my Recon survival training, I had taken the cloaks of the various bandits and made them into a rough body wrapping. The loose white cloth reflected some of the heat from the sunlight, and trapped moisture between my skin and the cloth, keeping me cooler. I looked like some kind of snake-mummy, but I honestly didn’t care. It kept me from frying to death.

On the fifth day, we began to see several rising pillars of smoke off in the distance, causing Drift to smile. “We’re almost there.”

All of us groaned in relief at that. “Finally!” Our trek had come to an end. It took us another hour before we finally got there.

The camp was surrounded by a deep ditch followed by an earthen breastworks. I could see several sentries on top of the mound wall, and one of them called out to the others. A wooden bridge was lowered across the ditch, and a scarred hyena jumped up onto it, blocking our passage.

“Halt!” the bipedal canine called out in a rough bark. “Who comes? Only members of the Windblown and those associated with them may enter the camp of our brotherhood.”

The Windblown? I thought, befuddled. A mercenary company named the Windblown? It had to be a coincidence. I mean, we were in a region called Saddle freaking Arabia, on the border of a country called the Trottoman Empire whose capital was Concanternople. Otherwise, that would imply that this mercenary group was named after another group from A Song of Ice and Fire. And that would be freaking ridiculous.

Our archer and guide stepped forward. “I am Aimless Drifter, Captain of the Rangers, and member of the Windblown. Behind me stand the mare who contracted me, Lost Pyramid, and a pair of recruits for our Brotherhood.”

The hyena smiled, gesturing for the pair of land bound ponies to come across the bridge. Their hooves clopped across the rickety wood. “We were expecting your arrival sooner, Captain Drifter,” the hyena said with a mocking bow. “It is good for you to finally arrive.”

A dangerous smile crossed Drifter’s lips. “You know me, Scratch. I might disappear for a while, but I always show up with something worth it.” A blind man would have been able to sense the animosity between the two of them.

Drifter and Pyramid crossed behind Scratch, and the hairy beast stood in the way once more, arms crossed over his chest. Underneath them were a pair of leather bandoliers holding several different sheathed knives, and at his hip hung a pair of scimitars on either side. Between those and his vast collection of scars criss-crossing his body, it became easily apparent where he had gotten his name. He was a ferocious looking creature, that was for sure.

But so was I. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by a dog.

Scratch barked at the pair of us. “All those who wish to join the Windblown must first prove themselves to be warriors of the highest caliber. If you can cross this bridge, you may join.” He began to laugh, exactly like that of a hyena, high-pitched and annoying to my ears. Johanna was grinding her teeth together at the sound.

Screw this noise, I thought to myself, slithering forward. Scratch raised an eyebrow as he saw me come forward.

“What in the name of Damnation are you, exactly?” He seemed legitimately curious, more sincere than he had seemed when welcoming Drifter back into the camp.

I smiled, though he wouldn’t be able to see it behind my cloth wrappings. “I’m the one who’s going to knock you off this bridge.” I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders.

Scratch’s eyes narrowed, his own smile appearing on his lips. “You’ve got spirit, monster, I’ll give you that. Tell you what,” he said, nodding towards my claws, “I’ll let you cut me once.” He gestured at his scars. “I let everyone I kill do it, though they never get a second.”

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. That certainly sounds familiar. I swear, if there’s a city called Mereen or Yunkai out here, I’m going to call bullshit on this entire world. Fine then. I wouldn’t play his game.

“I don’t plan on cutting you.” I simply started slithering towards him at a slow pace. He howled, unsheathing a pair of wicked looking blades, what appeared to be a kukri and a kris, and charged forward.

Before he got within reaching range of me, my tail lashed out, sweeping his feet out from underneath him. He fell lightly, flipping back up upright, now within range. He swung the kukri at me.

I snatched his wrist, my supernatural speed helping immensely. With my other hand, I delivered a quick strike with the heel of my palm into his solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs. He gasped as the wind rushed out of him. I twisted on his wrist, using his arm as a lever, and heaved him over the side of the rickety bridge, into the sand of the ditch below.

I continued on my way, noticing that the sentries were simply staring at me, jaws agape. Apparently, at least in their eyes, Scratch was as big a badass as he made himself out to be. Once I reached the other side, I turned and looked for Johanna.

She simply sat on the other side, then spread her wings, her face void of expression, and flapped once, flying over the trench. She alighted beside me, and lifted a hoof and patted me on the head. “Good boy,” she said, voice lacking any hint of irony. I growled at her. The guards now seemed even more on edge, and even more confused to see her treating me like a pet. However, they said nothing.

A small, dark grey unicorn ran up to us, looking us over. “You’re the newcomers, right? Tatters wants to see you.” I raised an eyebrow at him, though of course he couldn’t see it behind my wrappings.

“Who’s Tatters, boy?” I brought my head down to his level, my uncovered eyes staring into his. He gulped.

“I’m not a boy!” he exclaimed nervously, “I’m a grown stallion. And what d’ya mean you don’t know who Tatters is?” He backed down slightly. “I would've thought somepony looking to join up with us would now about the commander.”

Wait, I sighed inwardly, the commander of the Windblown is named Tatters? Screw this, I’m done. Outwardly, I said with a slight hint of irony, “Alright then, grown stallion, take me to your leader.”

The little unicorn turned, and as he did so I could see a picture on the side of his flank: a small pile of what appeared to be gunpowder. He trotted off, and shrugging, the pair of us followed behind. I had noticed similar pictures on the flanks of both Pyramid and Drifter. Pyramid’s was just that, a pyramid, while Drifter’s was a bit more esoteric. His was a path in the woods, that diverged into a fork, both going off into the distance who knew where.

Maybe ponies get tattoos of what their name means? I called out to our diminutive guide. “Hey, grown stallion, what’s your name?”

He turned his head back to me, still going forward. “It’s Powder Monkey, and don’t you forget it.”

Of course I wouldn’t. The name was too ridiculous, and the little stallion too full of false bravado to not be instantly memorable. I chuckled slightly. “And the leader of the Windblown, his name is Tatters?”

Powder Monkey turned his head back ahead of him, following where he was going, though he continued talking. “Not actually, that’s just what everyone calls him. The Commander’s real name is Tattered Glory, used to be some high n’ mighty noble back in the green lands. He was the Duke of Trottingham back in Equestria, but got himself exiled for something.”

I facepalmed harder. It keeps getting worse and worse. What twisted cosmic entity put together this joke of a reference storm? This is something that isn’t even appearing in the show! Did whatever god that put together this world read A Dance With Dragons and decide, ‘Oh, these Windblown guys are pretty cool, way better than those Second Sons assholes, let’s re-create them with ponies!’?

Black Powder continued. “The rest of us are like him. Exiles, convicts, former slaves, folks who just wandered in on the breeze. Everyone is welcome here. We take care of each other. It’s a pretty good life.” We approached a taller tent than the others around us. “Well, we’re here. Just step on in.” I thanked the kid, and slithered inside alongside Johanna.

The inside of the tent was something along the lines of what I had expected, a central table with a map laid across it, surrounded by several people of various species. A lighter gray, grizzled looking unicorn stood on his hind legs, forehooves planted on the table. His front half was covered in a sort of plate armor, looking more like the armored barding a knight’s horse would wear. Beside him stood a towering pair of minotaurs, one a light blue-gray, the other a coppery brown. Both of them stood more than twice as tall as the various ponies standing around the table, and they practically rippled with muscle, their chests uncovered. Next to the bronze colored minotaur was an enormous, muscular blood red earth pony. His flank bore the symbol of a powder keg. Beside him was a white unicorn mare whose flank picture was a pile of metal ball bearings. On the other side of the table stood a light blue pegasus mare with a close cropped golden mane, armored similarly to the unicorn.

Aimless Drifter stood next to the pegasus, and motioned us over to him. The standing stallion nodded to the fedora wearing unicorn, speaking in a British sounding accent. “Captain Drifter, would you please repeat your report regarding the battle you had with those ‘bandits’ at the old burial site?”

Drifter coughed slightly, clearing his throat. “Miss Pyramid and I, we were exploring down into the tunnels beneath the cave, the ones cut by the old Minotaur masons, when we came across a pair of statues who came to life after we approached them.” He gestured to us with a hoof. “These are they. After we we had a short conversation, we decided to return to the surface. As we came to the mouth of the cavern, a group of what I initially assumed to be bandits struck. Our new companions helped us fight them off, and I found a Pendant of Ba’alrayne on one of the Arabians. Grendel here,” he said, pointing to me, “heard them talking about how they had a mission for their master regarding the contents of the tomb.”

The bronze colored minotaur nodded at that. A deep rumbling bass voice with an indiscernible accent echoed from him, “Ah, well, I may have an idea what they may have been searching for, these Clericites.”

The standing unicorn glanced at him, a gleam in his eye. “Treasure?”

The brass bull shook his great horned head. “Nay, my lord. It is no ordinary treasure trove, but ancient and powerful weapons.”

The steely unicorn nodded. “That makes sense, the High Cleric wants whatever advantage he can scrape together. His high holiness is terrified that he’ll lose the throne he lusts after.” He glanced over to
the crimson stallion. “Keg, I want you to task a guard unit with defending that tomb. We can’t let the Clericites get their greasy hooves on whatever’s down there.”

The massive red stallion nodded, grunting, “Yes sir, Tatters sir.”

Then the steel colored commander of the Windblown glanced over at us. “So, stone-skins, what would you ask of the Windblown?”

Johanna replied before I could. “All that we have known has passed into the dust. I have no living family, friends or masters. All I have, I wear on my back. If anything, I am truly blown on the wind, for all of my anchors have rusted away.” It was a surprisingly eloquent response. If that had been in a play I would have started clapping. It was impressive to say the least.

The whispered hint of a smile crossed Tattered Honor’s lips. “So be it. If anything Captain Drifter has said is true, you are both fighters to be feared. I welcome you into my service.” He waved a hoof to the blue pegasus. “You will serve under Captain Thunder Blitz, our Captain of Air.” He eyed me. “And you, Grendel, well, I assume you have already met your captain.” He glanced over my shoulder, and I turned. Behind me, rubbing sand out of his fur, stood a savagely grinning Scratch. “Captain Scratch, commander of the Infantry. Welcome to the Windblown.”

Achievment Unlocked! Soldier of Fortune
Level Up!
Perk Gained: Lindwyrm Physiology Rank II So, how’d you like the Test Drive? Now that you’re familiar with your new form, you’ ve figured out some of the special features.(+10 Mele, Acid Spit, Breath of the Northern Wyrms)
Abilities Unlocked: Acid Spit Originally intended to help dig through stone and digest gemstones, you secrete a highly corrosive acid into your saliva, which just so happens to be REALLY useful in combat. (Warning: Acid Spit can cause severe injury as well as permanent blindness. Make sure proper safety gear is in effect before use.)
Breath of the Northern Wyrms Most dragons like to heat things up, but as a lindwyrm you prefer to keep things… frosty. Instead of breathing fire, your breath causes temperatures to drop faster than a ice cube in a liquid nitrogen bath. As long as you don’t break into song about how you don’t care anymore, this won’t be too much of a problem.
Allies Met: Scratch the Jackal, Captain of the Infantry
Powder Monkey, Apprentice Artilleryman
Tattered Glory, Vagabond Lord and Commander of the Windblown
Factions Met: The Windblown
Locations Discovered: Windblown Encampment

Author's Note:

Okay, so if you happen to be unaware, there were a LOT of references to things from George RR Martin's book series A Song of Ice and Fire in this chapter. There's a reason for that, which will be discussed in the upcoming chapter. This isn't so much a crossover as it is "borrowed elements". Just to help, here are a couple of elegant and finely crafted links:
The Windblown
Inspiration for Tatters
Scratch is something of a composite of this guy & this guy.

Song of the Chapter: Breaking Down the Borders by Miracle of Sound

Comments

[Alef0]

Lordspur, you are the first person I have ever met who knows what the Prose Edda is (or Poetic Edda if you speak Norse)

[Charedfirescale]

Cool story