If I’m going to tell you this story of my life – I might as well begin with a brief summary of what’s happened before my time. Now, I don’t know all the details, but I’ll just tell what I know and what I was taught.

Once upon a time, there was a land known as Equestria, forged by the harmonial balance of three equine species: Unicorn, Pegasus, and Earth Ponies. Many years had passed since the establishment of this nation; many things began to come into play – politics of princesses, the magic of friendship (which one certain unicorn did much studying on), yes it seemed that this nation would flourish for a long time to come.

But, as with many things, it strayed from its course when it began to industrialize. The demand for coal from Equestria superseded the amount they had. When the zebras refused to give them more, they stole it. This sparked small battles and technological advances, which led to full scale war which took millions of lives.

The world we knew began to disintegrate itself apart with manufactured tools of destruction; just about any weapon you could pick up and fire or throw: Rifles, pistols, potions, oh you name it. Eventually, the most horrid tool of them all was used –Balefire Bombs. Draconic fire singed and melted the grass; magical energy destroyed the cities of once flourishing nations. Cloudsdayle was the first to fall, and one could only imagine the looks on their faces when they saw that blast. I shudder at the thought, really. One by one, the cities of equines fell and reduced the world to a state of stunted anarchy known as “The Equestrian Wasteland.” But as far as I know, I have NO clue what’s out there – Maybe it could be different? Or maybe it’s same? Who knows..

Oh. Right, you’re probably asking where I’m in. Surprisingly enough, I’m inside one of the many Stables that lay deep underground across this land that were built by Stable-Tec to house citizens of Equestria away from the megaspell blasts. Once you found yourself inside one, you were locked in there for the rest of your time. No going in and no going out – that’s the basic rule. Well, sort of. This may just be a rumor I hear, but this Stable actually opens up its doors to take in folk of the Wasteland. Insane, I know. The process from what I’ve heard is… somewhat welcoming. First, they ask them a series of basic questions (their name, their age, you know the idea), after that it goes to interrogation to learn more about the outside world, then they put them through a test known only as STAPP (Stable-Tec Accurate Pony Placement) to help them find where they would work in the coming days or near future. I know that probably sounds insane and I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me that we take in refugees from the outside. It’s all thanks to a certain Stable-clad mare that we began this idea. I’m sure you all probably know her exploits – that’s for another time.

No, this isn’t a tale about a seething, angry mare becoming some sort of cybernetic equine whom relies on brutality, or a exploit of a utterly miserable colt in chains that seeks to break free – Just the story of a griffon in his travels, who’s trying to do the right thing despite all the flak that our species gets. ..I didn’t mention that, did I? I’m a griffon. And I know what you’re thinking, “Wait a second, a griffon? Interspecies in MY Stable?” Before you jump to conclusions, hear me out: This Stable, Stable 28, was built to house Citizens of Equestria, implying that I legally live in this nation alongside others, though that has no meaning in these times.

Stable 28, my home for my entire life was supposedly located in the mountains of the far north, where the elements are harsh. The cold is year round, and there is enough snow to drown a pony. Despite that, the stable is still a paradise… Well, relative to the toxic wasteland of the outside world that is.

Speaking of citizens, it’s not just ponies down here believe it or not – While I’m practically the only griffon family in this box, there is a bat pony or two that live down in the Maintenance department, with the lights darkened down there for them to live among us more comfortably. Is racism a problem? Heh, you bet. But like I said – that’s for another time. I’d rather let the story explain for me. In any case, my name is Gordon, Gordon Cloudhopper. I’m a medical protégé and the only child of a single mother, Serine Thunderstomper. Honestly, I don’t quite understand how our names work.

My job is to help those alike that have gotten themselves injured down here – from fillies and colt to mares and stallions. Even though I don’t have a cutie mark, like all those that talk about it, I’ve always felt an interest in being a doctor since being a hatchling. I’d always watch…Well, I don’t know who he was, but I do know he was my idol. But it’s not like I’m alone down here, there’s someone else I’ve known for a better part of my life - A bat mare, known as Dancing Shadows. At the young age of ten, she was seven at the time I later found out; we crossed each other’s paths and became a part of each other’s own lives, for better or for worse. Now, I’m geeky enough as a doctor, but Dancing? She’s the complete opposite! Always practicing her martial arts and punching hoof-to-hoof techniques with her mother – I still remember the early days of our friendship where I’d scamper about and watch Dancing now and then. But she wasn’t always the perfect fighter, which I am sure of. When the punching mare had gotten herself injured, she’d always ask if I was around. Nine out of ten times, I would be and helped to reset her many broken bones. I remember her mentioning that I’m ‘different from most ponies’. Yeah, she was right about that – I’m a quiet recluse that’s different from most that are rough and tough in this world – a shy little bundle of golden-yellow feathers and green eyes

But in any case, I think I’ve rambled on enough for you. You probably get the idea from here on out. Without further ado – This is my story, along with all the ponies and griffs I’ve come to know that are a part of it.