Chooser of the Slain

An Equestrian Edda

Takes Place in the Chessgame of the Gods ‘verse, as created by Rust and Blackwing.

Chapter One: Chooser of the Slain

“Almighty Lord we have come to your hall, Do Glatem Live, Creator of All! Open your heart and you will find a way! Paradise calling, and enter you may!(Falling Down!)”
-Sabaton, 7734

“Grenade!” one of the men to the left of me shouted. The call was quickly followed up by a slightly muffled explosion. Bullets whizzed past my head, pinging off the rocks and houses around me. I swore, leveling my M4A1 assault rifle and letting off a controlled burst in the general direction of the enemy. Suppressing fire is a very real concept in a firefight. Sometimes you don’t have to actually hit the enemy, you just have to put them on their ass so they can’t fire back.

“Where the hell’s our chopper!?” I screamed into the comm. One of the bastards on the other side of the street lifted his head up above his cover, and quickly had it turned into chunky salsa. Seeing more movement inside the same building, I unhooked a grenade from my web gear and pulled the pin. “Frag out!” I called, lobbing it through the window. The explosion threw up a massive cloud of dust, puffing out through the doors and windows of the building. Another armed enemy stumbled out, and I put a trio of rounds in his chest, dropping him.

“ETA seven minutes,” a voice called over the comm. I huffed. About damn time. The unit commander’s voice followed it up. “Alright everybody, let’s fall back to the south side of the village, it’s just flat enough for the bird to land. Mendez, you move your team first, secure the LZ. Geatsen, you’re going last. Keep those jihadis off our asses.”

I gave a terse, “yes sir,” and kept my eyes on the lookout for further movement. I had better make it out of here. Like all the other jarheads who signed up back home, I hadn’t left for Afghanistan expecting to die. I had a wife, and a two year old son I had never met, back in Minnesota.

I wiped the sand from my forehead. My US Marine Recon unit had come into this ass-end-of-nowhere Afghani village to extract a former Taliban commander who claimed he wanted to defect to the US. Of course, the village was in the middle of Taliban country, and now our unit of fifty was surrounded by what appeared to be half the towel-head army.

It was a tense seven minutes, punctuated with sporadic gunfire. As soon as I heard the distinctive whine of chopper rotors, I breathed a sigh of relief. I heard the commander issue orders for our guys to board, along with Mr. Defector. Then I saw it, and my blood turned to ice.

One of the bastards had an RPG, specifically some type of surface-to-air missile. Dammit! He was planning on shooting down the chopper! I let off a burst, making him scurry down behind cover. Another terrorist ran out from behind the same rock, and I perforated him with a hail of lead. The distinctive click of the fire mechanism not finding a bullet followed.

Shit.

I was out of ammo for my M4. I had already blown through my other three mags. Gritting my teeth, I let my rifle fall on it’s sling around my back, quickly unholstering my Beretta M9. That bastard wasn’t going to kill my friends or shoot down my chopper.

I heard my commander telling me and my squad to retreat. “Sergeant Geatsen, fall back! I repeat, fall back to the LZ!” I sighed into the comm.

“No can do, sir. There’s a hostile out here with a SAM, if we let him go he’ll blow us all out of the sky.” I heard a frustrated grumble from the other end.

“Dammit! Do what you have to do, Sergeant. Just make it out in one piece.” I replied with the affirmative. I switched the comm to my squad.

“Boys, get your sorry asses to the LZ. I’m going for a walk.” They gave me their affirmatives, and started making their way back. I took a deep breath. I could hear my heart beating. Breath in. Thump thump. Breath out. Thump thump.

I ran from behind the cover, charging towards the rock the hostile with the SAM had dived behind. I saw a couple of heads peek out from behind various boulders and ruined houses, followed by the distinctive crackle of Kalashnikovs.

Running towards the boulder, I laid down my own suppressing fire. These bastards had no fire discipline, and terrible aim, but one of them still managed to graze my hip. I bit down on the sharp, hot pain and kept going, giving him a double serving of lead for his trouble. I was twenty yards from the rock. Fifteen… ten… five.

I lept and slid over the top of the rock. Two jihadis were behind it, cowering under the bulletstorm. One of them was my boy with the rocket launcher. I shot the other one first, the one with an AK-47. BANG! BANG! click.

The one with the rifle was down, but I was out of ammo for my pistol. So I improvised. With a shouted Marine “Hooah!” I smashed the barrel of the pistol across his skull. With my other hand, I grabbed and flipped open my combat knife and buried it in his ribcage. Gurgling, the man’s shrouded head lolled to the side.

It was only then that I noticed the thirty or so other Taliban fighters charging towards my position. They were screaming in arabic as they rushed, and soon bullets were clacking off the stone all around me. Shit, I thought to myself. If one of those guys got his hands on the launcher, it would be the same as if I hadn’t killed the guy who already had it. There was only one thing to do.

I grabbed the SAM.

As I raised the tube over my shoulder, a bullet struck me in the left leg. Blood spurted over my pants, and I fought down the pain. Another bullet tore through my stomach. It didn’t matter. I flipped on the firing mechanism, pointed into the center of the group. At this range, it would kill me too, but that was the point. If it left behind a functional missile launcher, this would have been pointless.

Catherine, I thought silently, I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise. I’m sorrier I couldn’t have raised our son. Make sure he finds a good dad.

I grit my teeth and fired.

From off to my left, I would have sworn I saw a blonde woman look at me and smile. She wore a black, medieval style cloak that obscured her body. She nodded my direction, as if in approval. What the hell? Must be bloodloss.

The missile leapt towards the mass of Afghan soldiers, and my life ended in a flash of fire and the loudest crack of thunder I had ever heard.
***

I awoke what felt like some significant time later, and the first thing I noticed was that I could feel the grain of whatever wood my face was resting on. Touch? That was unexpected. Let’s try sight.

My eyes opened, and I was in a smoky, dimly lit room. I blinked a couple of times, then lifted my self upright. I had been slumped over some kind of table. My hand rubbed up over my forehead. What? Where am I?

“Need something, handsome?” A husky feminine voice asked from over my shoulder. I turned, and beheld an absolutely gorgeous blonde woman, with her hair done up in a long braid that went over one shoulder, resting beside her distractingly ample breasts. I had to force myself to look up into her eyes. Dammit man! You’re married!
She was dressed like a German stereotype, you know the kinda dress I’m talking about. She had a blonde eyebrow arched up in apparent amusement. With a figure like hers, she must get looks like that a lot.

“Um… yes, can you tell me where I am?” Her red lips broke into a slightly condescending smile, as if she was laughing at the fact that I didn’t already know.

“Ah, so you’re the new arrival.” She straightened herself up, pulling a waiter’s notepad and pencil out from god knew where, and stood like she was going to take my order. “So, what’ll it be?” As she spoke, I noticed a slight accent to her tone that reminded me vaguely of my grandmother.

I raised my own eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?” I asked, so confused that words weren’t even applicable.

The woman simply rolled her eyes at me. “To drink, or to eat. We’re pretty flexible around here.”

I dropped my head into one hand, and began to rub my eyelids with my thumb and forefinger. “Uh, do you have Bud Light?”

That got a laugh out of her, and she put her notepad and pencil away, and turned slightly over her shoulder. “Hey, everybody! We’ve got an American over here!” It was the roar of raucous laughter that made me realize how crowded the room was. I looked up above the “waitress”, and saw the high, arched wooden ceiling above, slightly obscured by smoke, an indeterminable distance away. I looked to my right, then to my left. The building seemed to be one single room that went on forever. It was filled with tables, each one surrounded by men in such a wide variety of clothes they may as well have been tropical birds. Chainmail and furs, steel plate, silk robes, seventeenth century overcoats of various colors (though mostly red), Civil War uniforms and various sets I couldn’t place. Soon, a group formed around my table, lifting me out of my seat, enthusiastically patting me on the back. “Hey, we saw you on the screen, right good show, that was. Right good,” an English voice sounded in my ear.

I turned, scanning through the crowd to the woman who had spoken to me first. “Wait!” I called, “You never answered my question.”

She simply laughed again. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re dead! Welcome to the Hall of a Thousand Shields, the Mead House of the Slain! Welcome, noble warrior, to Valhalla.”

Achievement Unlocked! Heroic Sacrifice
Location Discovered: Valhalla
Faction(s) Met: The Slain
The Valkyries

Job Offer

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Chapter Two: Job Offer

“Now it’s over, I’m dead and I haven’t done anything that I want; or I’m still alive and there’s nothin’ I want to do.”

-They Might Be Giants, Dead

"Hey, clear off. Give the man some space!” A man with a slightly tinny Texas twang said. He obviously had some kind of authority, or was at least respected, as the various dead men around me shuffled back to their respective tables. The blonde woman, who I realized now was probably a Valkyrie, nodded at me and said,”I’ll let him give you the new arrival speech, and get you something respectable. House special, how about that?” I nodded, numbly, and she sauntered off.

The source of the voice stepped up to me. He was surprisingly short, and looked like he would be over 100 pounds sopping wet, but at the same time he had a look in his eye that screamed badass. He wore an old US Army dress uniform absolutely bedecked with medals. Smiling, he offered me his hand, and I shook it. “Hello, I’m guessing you’re the new guy then?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess that’s me.” I blinked several times as I inspected this guy. Something about him looked vaguely familiar, like I’d seen him before in pictures or something. “Name’s Geatsen. Seargeat Gus A. Geatsen, United States Marine Recon.” I didn’t know exactly why I was telling this guy my full name and rank, but it felt right. He laughed good naturedly.

“Nice to meet you Sarge. Saw your entrance performance over on the television, pretty damn impressive if I do say so myself.”

He took off his dress cap and sat down at the other seat at my table, and I sat down in my own. The valkyrie who had given me my introduction came back with a tray in one hand. She dropped a big, frothing mug in front of the Texan, and what looked like a hollowed out bull’s horn in front of me. The horn was banded in silver and gold, and filled with a dark amber liquid that was definitely alcoholic, though I had no idea what kind it was. I turned to look at her, drinking horn in hand. She winked at me. “House special, Freyja’s Home-Brewed Mead served old school.”

She walked away, skirts swishing, and the Texan chuckled and took a draught of his own drink. “She gives that to all the newcomers. It’s kind of a right of passage. It’ll put hair on your chest, I’ll tell you that much.” I nodded, staring down into its depths. What the hell, why not? I took a swig, trying to down all of it in one go. It was a mistake.

Ho-lee-shit that was strong! What was this, 300 proof? You could take paint off a wall with something like this, most likely followed by the wall itself. I reeled, blinking away tears. I was a marine, so I was no stranger to strong drink, but GOD DAMN!

He chuckled again. “See what I mean?” The mead left a honey-like after taste on my tongue, so that was a plus. I grinned.

“So, you said there was a tv here?” I wiped away the small amount of sweat that had formed across my forehead. That was honestly the strongest stuff I had ever came into contact with.

“Not like any I remember, but I’d guess things have come a ways since I bought the farm.” He smiled slightly, though I noticed that some of his joviality had fled. “They have a bunch of flat screens over by each of the bars. They broadcast any battles currently going on in Midgard, that’s our world, so that we can see who the new arrivals are going to be. And it’s a form of entertainment, I suppose.” He put his drink down. “Besides drinking and fighting, there’s not a whole lot to actually do around here.”

I looked at the man. I definitely recognized him, I just had no idea where or when. “You mentioned dying. When was that, and would it be too personal to ask how you went?”

He seemed slightly surprised. “Not at all, I mean, nearly everyone already knows how you did. Congratulations again, by the way. Pulled a fantastic heroic sacrifice, last thoughts being to your wife and kid and all, very touching. I was in showbiz for a while kid, and let me tell you, that performance would have had you thanking the Academy.” He took another idle sip of his beer. “Plane crash, in the Seventies. Civilian one, at that. But apparently the Vals thought I did enough in the war to deserve coming here. Hell, I saw Patton just the other day. He died in a car wreck. Atilla the Hun, scariest bastard around, died of a nosebleed in his sleep but still ended up here. You don’t have to technically die in battle to wind up here, just prove yourself to be a warrior.”

It clicked. I recognized him now. The part about dying in a plane crash, the offhanded mention of show business, it all fit together. “Sweet Jesus,” I said, nearly dumbstruck, “You’re Audie Murphy.”

He simply nodded. “The same.”

I had a serious freakout moment. I was dead, in VIKING HEAVEN, sharing drinks and shooting the breeze with AUDIE-FREAKING-MURPHY! The man was only the single most badass man to ever live, the most decorated soldier in American history. The guy wrote a book about his war experience, and when they made it into a movie, he got signed to play himself! There’s no level of badassitude higher than that.

To say that I nearly started bowing and worshiping him on the spot would have been embarrassingly accurate.

“You’re Audie Murphy! It’s such an honor, you have no idea. You’re one of my personal idols! You’re the greatest soldier to ever live!” My fangasm was coming out of my mouth in a rush of words. I was currently making an abject fool of myself, but in that moment I didn’t care.

He simply chuckled. “You better not let Achilles hear you say that.”

A quick tap on my shoulder made me turn around. The valkyrie who had brought us drinks was standing there, looking at me. She looked pissed, and even slightly nervous. “Quit drooling, Vinlander. The Boss wants to talk to you.” I blinked hard. The Boss? I looked back at Audie, and his eyebrows were nearly in his hairline, which implied that this was not a common occurrence. He said nothing, so I got up and followed her.

She wove her way through the crowded mead hall with the practiced ease of someone who literally did this all the time. As it was, I had a hard time keeping up with her. “Y’know,” I said, catching up to her ducking past a Roman Centurion downing wine from two separate bottles, “I never did catch your name.”

She gave me a contemptuous look over her shoulder. “I know all I need to know about you, Gustavus Adolphus Geatsen. You wound up here after all. Your namesake should be somewhere around here, drinking himself off his ass, still in denial about where he is and occasionally hitting Charles XII over the head with a chair for ‘losing the empire.’ Luckily he’s one of the last kings of the Old Country we’ve had to deal with for a couple centuries.” That made me blink. I had read up on my history of the Swedish Empire, as I was a military history buff, Swedish-American, and fan of Sabaton, but the mental image of my namesake beating the everloving shit out of Charles XII nearly made me laugh out loud.

“Any way, my name is Johanna, and rest assured that if you try to get too familiar with me I’ll have your balls for marbles.” The gleam in her eye, and the fact that she was a supernatural being with the ability to choose who lived and died in a battle, made me gulp in fear.

I raised my hands defensively, scooting between a pair of Russian Cossacks as I tried desperately to keep up with the blonde woman. “Hey, nothing like that. I’m married.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, turning her head back towards the direction we were apparently headed. “Hasn’t stopped most men, even the ones who weren’t already dead.” I decided that then was a perfect time to stop making chit-chat.

We made our way towards what seemed to be a raised platform against one of the walls. The platform, its stairs, the wall and general area around it was absolutely lousy with trophies, mostly of creatures I had never seen before and I had previously thought didn’t exist. At the top of the platform stood a great, carved wooden throne, flanked on either side by stuffed Frost Giants in warlike poses. Above the throne, three heads were mounted in a triangle. The lower two were vaguely humanoid, with frog like eyes and snake’s nostrils and a mouthful of fang each. Ratty black hair fell from both heads, though the one on the left was significantly longer. The head mounted above both of them was that of a dragon, a massive, snarling, black-scaled, white-fanged, tusked, multi-horned motherfucking dragon.

I blinked. I had a suspicion of who had donated those particularly trophies to the wall.

Sitting on the intricately carved throne sat an old man. A long, white beard flowed down across his chest, below a longish nose that looked like it had been broken many times. The man wore a jeweled, norse-style helm, rather than a crown, and a burnished shirt of chain mail under a blue cloak. A pitch-black raven sat on each of his shoulders, occasionally looking like they were whispering into his ears. His single grey eye stared into me, as if staring into my very soul, the empty void in the other stared into nothing at all.

I knew immediately who I had been brought to see. Johanna had called him “the Boss”, and I guess when you’re in the business of picking up souls from battlefields, the Norse God of War makes an engaging manager.

Before me, staring directly at me, sat the Wolf-Feeder, the King of Asgard, the Creator of the Nine Realms. I was in the presence of Odin All-Father.

I was in the presence of a literal god.

“Hello Gus,” he said, his voice shockingly warm and pleasant, like that of a favorite grandfather, “welcome to Valhalla. I have a proposition for you.”

I fell to my knees. What the hell had I gotten myself into? I was absolutely dumbstruck. This was meeting Audie Murphy to the power of fifty. An entity that I had read about throughout my childhood, who wasn’t even supposed to exist, sat above me, looking down at me for all the world like a bizarre mix of grandfather and upper management.

Taking my inability to speak as a sign that he should continue, he went on. “I have need of a mighty warrior to serve as my representative, and to fulfill a certain quest for me.”

I’ve died I thought, my mind simply overloaded with the events of the last hour. I’ve died, and this is my dying hallucination, like Grease. Well, at least this one had a better soundtrack (yeah, I WENT there).

Johanna kicked me, none too gently, and I suddenly regained the power of speech. Of a sort. “Ah, uh, um. Well, um your… Majesty? Your Deity-ness? What kind of quest are we talking about?” I got up on my knees so that I at least looked halfway respectable, though I still kept my eyes at his feet.

I heard a rolling chuckle echo through the hall. It took that moment for me to realize that I had been holding my breath.I began to laugh along, completely ill at ease. What’s his game? What does he want with me?

I brought my gaze up to the All-Father’s face. Our sights met, eyes to eye. “Tell me Gus, how much do you know about My Little Pony?”

I fell backwards onto the rough wooden floor of the mead hall. This was just TOO bizarre. Okay, obviously that drink Johanna gave me was stronger than I thought. There is no way I’m not absolutely shitfaced right now. At my drunkest, I would not have been able to come up with a completely rat-screwed scenario like this one. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?

Raising myself back up, I instead opted to go for the safe option. “Honestly, your Godliness? I’m not all that familiar with it. One of the guys I was in Basic with said he watched it, but that’s about it.”

Odin grumbled, considering. “Well, that is regrettable, but not unexpected.” He turned and looked at Johanna, standing at attention behind me. “Johanna, how familiar are you with Equis?”

She tilted her head slightly. “Been there a couple of times, sir. Not in the last couple of centuries or so though.”

The King of Asgard harumphed. “That’ll have to do.” He pointed a finger directly at her. “You will accompany Gustavus to Equis, if and when he agrees to my proposal.”

She started to protest, but a single glance and lowered eyebrow shut her up faster than a steel trap. “Now, Gustavus, I have an important purpose laid aside for you.” He swept his hand out before him, and a cloud of blue dust rose from it. Within the cloud I could see a bunch of faceless people crowded around a chessboard.

“We haven’t much time, so I’ll be direct. Discord, one of the Gods of Equis, opened a rift between that world and the others, challenging all the gods of all the realms to a game of henfatafl, to set down a piece and go in for vicarious glory. Last God with a piece standing wins.”

“And you want me to be your… piece?” I asked, confusion bordering on incredulity creeping into my voice.

Odin nodded. “Loki, mine own adopted son who is fated to destroy me and all I love, has already put down his own piece. The piece has unleashed the Fenris Wolf, thus hastening the arrival of Ragnarok, and that is simply inexcusable. Loki cannot be allowed to win.”

So, what, was this the Cosmic version of Cold War diplomacy? Match force with equal force, have a counter move in place for every enemy maneuver?

Odin sighed. “I am no fool. I didn’t lose this eye for nothing, I gained the ability to see the threads of fate. A fair bargain, if you ask me.” He deflated slightly, resting his head in his hands. “Even if I win the Game, the Fenris Wolf will still devour me, but I hope to use the power I gain to do what I can.” He looked me over. “I know you would consider that a worthy cause, the salvation of the world. One who would sacrifice himself for his compatriots would think no different.”

The elderly, but still strong and imposing god straightened himself up. “However, I am nothing if not generous to those who serve me well. If you perform this task for me, I will perform a service for you.” He waved his hand through the blue glow-cloud (all hail), and a moving image of my wife Catherine appeared in it, clutching baby Kaleb to her chest in one hand and holding her phone in the other. I watched, feeling helpless and useless as tears flowed freely down her face, her body wracked with uncontrolled sobs.

“If you do this thing for me, If you can help me defeat Loki’s scheming and come back victorious, I will return you to Midgard. Return you to life, that you might live out the rest of your days with your loved ones.”

It was difficult, watching my beautiful sweetheart in so much pain. I shed tears of my own. I turned back to Odin and looked him straight in his lone eye. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

Odin nodded, waving his hand through the cloud, dissipating it. “I have your oath then?” I nodded in return. Odin reached to his own arm, slipping off a golden arm-ring worked in the shape of a snake devouring its own tail. Odin tossed the band of gold to me, and I caught it. “Swear on that, then, that your oath may be as eternal.”

I grasped the large ring in both hands, and said, gathering my strength, “I, Gustavus Adolphus Geatsen, warrior sworn to the service of the United States Marines, do pledge an oath to Odin the All-Father, King of Asgard, that I will achieve the task I am charged with. So I swear, before the sight of gods and by my own power.” The words came tumbling out of my lips, like the ring itself was drawing them from me. The ring glowed slightly and felt slightly warm.

Odin nodded in approval. “And I, Odin All-Father, do hereby witness your oath and pledge in turn to return you to the care of your family once the task has been completed.” And just like that, it was done. I had literally sworn myself to the service of a god. “Keep the torque as a symbol of your oath, Gustavus son of Karl, last of the Geats. Keep it, and remember. As long as you remain true to your oath, it will aid you in your mission.

“Now for the real business,” Odin went on. “Equis doesn’t have any humans, so we’ll need to change you to something else on arrival. Hmm, there are ponies, griffins, dogs, dragons, so many choices, so MANY choices.” I looked down at the ring in my hands.

“Something with thumbs, please.” Was this really happening? Was I really going to a world of pastoral ponies, on a divine mission from Odin himself?

The god nodded. “Of course, of course. Hah, here’s just the thing!” He looked past me, to the Valkyrie behind me. “Johanna, go find Heimdal, and tell him I’m sending you to Equis in the flesh. He’ll come up with a suitable form for you.” The blonde woman turned stiffly, walking quickly away with an unvocalized hmpf!

Odin stared at me. “You’d do good to rely on her lad, she knows her way around the area, and has just over a millennia of experience watching combat. If you stick with her, you can’t go far wrong.”

Odin stood and walked over to me, waving his hands about in a dramatic manner, wrapping me in what appeared to be a cloud of spectral fireflies. “Are you ready?” I nodded. “Alright then, prepare to experience a very strong falling sensation.” He came up to me, face to face, and looked me directly in the eyes. “Remember your oath.”

I nodded again. “I will.”

He seemed to agree with me on that part. He began to turn away, then looked back over his shoulder. “Oh, and sergeant?”

I blinked at him, which I seemed to have been doing an awful lot lately. “Yes, what?”

A crooked, lupine smile crossed the All-Father’s face. “If you come into contact with Fenrir, don’t run away. That only encourages him.”

And suddenly, I felt a pit drop out from my stomach, and I was plummeting backwards.

I found myself in a pitch black room that smelled strongly of dust. I blinked, my body feeling oddly stiff. Distantly, a flickering light was coming ever closer. It was the light of a torch, and as it neared I saw it was simply floating to the side of a dusty tan colored pony wearing, I kid you not, an Indiana Jones hat and jacket.

“Well, what in the unholy name of Nightmare Moon do we have here?”

Achievement Unlocked! Divine Mission
Level Up!
Perk Gained: Covenant Rank I Congratulations! You've made a face-to-face agreement with a Divine Power! As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, you're gonna get some pretty righteous blessings in return.(+5 Constitution, +30% Healing Rate)
Ally Met: Johanna, Junior Valkyrie
Location Discovered: Tomb of Minoses the Great

Discovery

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Chapter Three: Discovery

“Coincidence has always been a friend to me. I always seem to wind up where I’m meant to be.”
-Miracle of Sound, Keep Drifting

~The Explorer~

It was quite the worthwhile adventure, coming down here to Saddle Arabia. I would be Manehatten University’s most famous archeologist for discovering this place. Everypony would forget that damnable hack Daring Do when they heard about this! They would remember Professor Pyramid!

In the light of my bodyguard’s torch, I inspected some of the wall carvings. “Yes,” I said, growing ever more excited, “these are definitely ancient Minotaur hieroglyphics! All the figures here are bipedal and have two horns! Oh, this is a major breakthrough. I’ve found it, after years of research and wandering around in the desert, I’ve finally found it!” I was practically giddy with excitement. Reaching into my saddlebags, I pulled out a piece of charcoal and some paper, and holding the charcoal in my mouth and the paper between my forehooves, made a quick rubbing of the hieroglyphics. I had to have something to take back, after all.

“Ma’am,” my bodyguard/guide said quietly, adjusting his hat ever so slightly on his head, “are you sure you want to continue deeper into here?”

I gave him a sideways glance. “Of course. I need to see as much as I can for my journal, and bring back enough artifacts that the University will agree to finance a dig out here.” I turned towards him more fully. “What’s wrong? You aren’t scared are you?”

He shook his head, his tail swishing slightly. “No ma’am. You’re certainly paying me enough to stick around.” His voice dropped into an even quieter register, and I had to strain to hear it. “It’s just that, a buck might’ve heard legends and rumors about places like this. They say that these old minotaur tombs are filled with booby traps to protect against scavengers, and some of them are even cursed.” The way he used that last word sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t take you for a superstitious stallion.”

“I’m not, Ma’am,” He said, kicking a loose rock with his forehooves. “I believe in what I can see with my eyes, what I can touch with my hooves.” He looked at me, sighing slightly. “It’s just that, there were a lot of stories that I’ve heard in my travels across the desert. All about ponies wandering into ancient minotaur tombs and never coming back out, or ponies who went in, and came out changed.” He snorted. “As your gainfully employed bodyguard, I feel it’s my duty to keep you safe from harm.”

I sighed slightly. “Alright then, we’ll continue on just a little longer, and then we can head back out.” He grumbled slightly but followed me along. We continued down a stone corridor until we came to a stone entry way flanked on either side by a fearsome statue.

“What in the unholy name of Nightmare Moon do we have here?” he asked, gesturing with his torch at one of the statues. It was of a terrifying creature, which looked like some kind of giant snake, but with fur instead of scales, and a wolf-like head. I noticed that it had two arms, no legs, and each arm ended in a set of five thick, sharp claws. I smiled looking at it.

“Ah, a lindwyrm!” I rushed up to the statue. “This tomb must be REALLY ancient, lindwyrms have been extinct for thousands of years. I’m guessing that, due to its position here, it must be a kind of tomb guardian, scaring away evil spirits from the central burial chamber.” I turned to look at my guard, who was inspecting the other statue. This one was of a pegasus, oddly enough, wearing archaic looking armored barding, culminating in a helmet topped with a pair of bull’s horns. “Hmmm, that’s odd.”

I turned back to the statue of the Lindwyrm. For a second I could have sworn I saw it move. There it was again. What in sweet Celestia’s name was going on here?

We backed away from the statues as they began to move and shake slightly, shaking off pieces of stone like dandruff. I let off a less than dignified scream. Maybe he had been right about traps and curses.

~Gus~

I blinked, then rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. In Valhalla, I hadn’t noticed my lack of a physical body, but now that I had one again, I could feel the difference. I looked at my hands, or, more accurately, talons. I had four fingers and a thumb on each one, which was good, but each one ended in a long, bladelike claw. It was then that I noticed that I could see my nose, or perhaps snout, in front of my face. I took a deep breath in through the nose, then promptly sneezed. Dust, lots of it. This place hasn’t had anybody inside for a while. There were other smells too. Thousand year old spices and papyrus, long preserved flesh that had ceased decaying centuries ago. I could smell the blood of the ponies in front of me, in their veins, smell it pulsing through them. I licked my lips, then blanched.

What the hell was that? I stared at myself after that. What was I? I turned around, inspecting myself. It was that moment that I realized I no longer had legs. Instead, I had a four foot tail, like that of a giant snake, except it was covered in sleek black fur rather than scales. It inspected my height against that of the entryway around me, and surmised that I was about 4-5 ft tall, standing on about four feet of tail. I tried to take a step forward and immediately fell on my face.

That’s when I heard Johanna laughing at me. I twisted my head around to scowl at her. Unlike me, she looked like some kind of cartoon pony, but dressed in almost viking-like armor: scale-mail barding and a horned helmet. And… she had wings. I blinked again. Well then, this is what you signed up for. Go to Pony-world, grab some stuff, kill a dragon and win a game of chess. But why do I lose my legs, and she ends up with wings?

I start to snicker as she flairs her wings. “Well, looks like you can fly now.” Flight of the Valkyries, heh.

She gave me a death glare. “I swear, if you so much as hum Wagner I’ll,” she started to threaten, but I cut her off.

“Yeah yeah, balls, marbles, I got the point the first time.” I straighten myself up to just a bit above her height. Apparently I can stand on this tail. I turn around, starting to get the hang of the slithering motion required. Thankfully, it looked like Odin had programmed in how to maneuver, otherwise I’d still have been writhing on the floor. “How do I look?”

She gave a snarling, wolfish grin at me. “Absolutely monstrous.” Then she cocked an eyebrow. “So, on the whole, significantly better than before.”

I snorted. “Thanks.”

It was just then that I noticed something to my left was screaming. I could feel the vibrations of eight hooves moving around on the stone floor, scrambling away from us. I turned to see two ponies looking at me, one a screaming female in a light jacket and old-school Pith Helmet, and the other was dressed up like Indiana Jones, or maybe the Man with No Name. The one in the adventurer’s hat was surrounded by a quartet of levitating crossbows, all of which glowed slightly yellow and were pointed at me. Unlike the mare’s face, the stallion’s visage was grim and determined.

I raised my claws defensively. “Hey now, no need for any of that!” It was then that I noticed that my voice had changed, becoming raspy and gravely, like a knife on sandpaper. I winced. Yeah, that’s certainly going to calm them down. Now my voice sounds like its made of evil. I could see the torch light reflected off of the points of the crossbow bolts. Dammit. I was really looking forward to not getting shot again.

Luckily, Johanna was able to intervene. “Wait! Don’t hurt him!” She walked up to him, getting between the bows and me.

The mare in the Pith helmet was still scared out of her mind. “He’s a monster!” She blinked again in the light of the torch. “The two of you were statues, then you just… just shook off the stone! The only other creature who’s ever done that was Discord!” She glared at me some more. Great. “You even kind of look like him.”

Johanna adopted a conciliatory tone. “Please,” she said, obviously thinking quickly, “we’ve been frozen in that stone for a long time. A cockatrice froze us here!” I raised an eyebrow, but let her continue. She gestured at me with a hoof. “This is Grendel, my pet lindwyrm.” I glared at her.

The crossbowman (stallion?) narrowed his eyes at us, but lowered the crossbows, returning two of them to holsters on his flanks. I could tell the other mare was considering what Johanna had said.

“Alright then, what’s your name?” Pith-helmet asked sceptically. I could tell she wasn’t quite convinced.

Johanna coughed for a moment. “Shield Splinter, ma’am.” She looked around the room. I had to commend her for her ability to bullshit a story on the fly. Then she looked at the other two, a confused look on her face. “Please, can you tell me how far away from Pegasopolis we are?”

That drew a chuckle from Crossbow McGee’s muzzle. “About three hundred miles and two thousand years, give or take a few centuries.” The look that crossed Johanna’s equine face proved to me that she was an excellent actor. She looked truly shocked, then quickly shifted to heart broken, sitting down on her rump. I slithered up beside her, looking as if to comfort her.

“All my friends, everyone I’ve ever known… they’re all gone. All dead.” Convincing crocodile tears flowed from her eyes. I caught the idea she was trying for. This… this might work. If we can convince them we’ve been frozen in stone for thousands of years, then any lack of understanding we have about the world can easily be written off. Smart. I had to mentally re-categorize the acerbic woman I knew so little about.

The other mare’s glare softened as she looked at the crying pegasus-valkyrie. She came over and gave Johanna a hug. “It’s okay Shield.” She pulled back and looked into the Valkyrie’s eyes. “My name’s Lost Pyramid, I’m a professor at Manehatten University. I was exploring tomb, and that’s how we found you.”

The other pony came forward, swiping his hat off of his head, revealing a slightly glowing horn and dark brown mane. “And my name’s Aimless Drifter, I’m the Professor’s guide and bodyguard.”

Johanna nodded slightly. “Where are we, geographically speaking?” She wiped the tears from her eye with a hoof. Damn, I need to learn how to do that.

Pyramid sighed. “Does the name Saddle Arabia mean anything to you?”

And so the four of us journeyed out of the tomb, which I learned was disguised as a cave. Johanna hadn’t apparently been kidding about not having been to Equis in quite some time, she wasn’t faking not knowing about the world. Oh, she recognized most of the shapes on the map Pyramid showed her, but almost none of the names. I took it all in, trying to learn as much as I could, as it was all new to me. And apparently, there had been some social changes since she had last been here as well.

“It seems strange,” she commented offhandedly (hoofedly?), “to see an Earth Pony and a Unicorn traveling together, even if one is paying for the services of the other.” The two of them looked at each other and blushed, obviously taking that the wrong way.

I’m at the point, I thought to myself, where I honestly don’t know if that entendre was intentional or not. There were so many hidden layers to Johanna, but considering that she had lived for multiple millennia that was to be expected.

Drifter chuckled slightly. “Ah, um, about that.” He kicked a loose hooful of dirt out of the cave’s mouth. “The tribes aren’t exactly split and fighting with each other anymore.”

Pyramid nodded. “We’ve been unified for some time now. Ever since Hearth’s Warming Eve, when the Windigo were finally defeated and the Ice Age ended, ponies of all kinds have been living and working together.” She put her foreleg around Aimless’s shoulders in a comeradic gesture. “We’ve discovered the Magic of Friendship.”

That got me laughing. Pyramid glared at me slightly. “Hush, beast. What would you know about magic, or friendship?” I snickered again.

“Of course, because an abstract concept of the bonds of social interaction have their own innate power.” The loquaciousness of my response made her blink slightly. She cocked her head at me.

“Friendship is more than that. Friendship is Generosity, Honesty, Loyalty, Kindness, and Laughter. When they come together among ponies, they create the magic that guides and shapes our lives.”

I turned away. That smacked too much of religion for me to consider arguing further. I turned away. “Whatever.”

I looked out of the cave’s entrance. The sun was setting over the dunes. Of course, this place being a desert made sense when it was a play on a freaking nation in the real world. Hmph. Saddle Arabia, my ass.

I took a deep breath through my nose, smelling the hot, sandy air of the desert, and I could smell something else as well. There were several distinct aromas out there, some of them smelled similarly to my companions, others smelled completely different. Some of them smelled slightly like dogs, others smelled so foul I almost choked, and I could tell from the faintness of the scents that they were still a ways off. But the smells were getting stronger.

“Something’s out there,” I told the ponies around me. “Several somethings, coming in on our position fast.” I blinked, my eyes rapidly adjusting to the decreasing light. Faintly, I thought I could see a group of silhouettes skylined against a dune.

Pyramid gasped and Drifter grit his teeth, telekinetically withdrawing his crossbows from their various holsters and loaded them with a bolt each. His reaction set me on edge.

“Who are they?” Pyramid whispered to him. Her answer came when an arrow flew through the cave mouth, just barely going over her head and splintering against the cavern wall. She ducked, curling up into a ball.

Aimless Drifter responded with a single word. “Bandits.”

Achievement Unlocked! Getting your Bearings
Level Up!
Perk Gained: Lindwyrm Physiology Rank I Welcome to the Chessgame! Your old human body has been taken away, and now you have a fantastical one in its place! As a Lindwyrm, an ancient draconic species, you now posses a body completely unlike anything you've ever seen. Take it out for a spin! (-15Chr, +25 Agi, +20 Per)
Allies Met: Lost Pyramid, PhD.
Aimless Drifter, Captain of the Rangers

Windblown

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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