Connor
“There’s my exit.”
Connor switched lanes inside the airways so he could take the next exit that would deposit him close to the bustling capital city of Canterlot. The sun was casting its ten o’clock shadow across the stone streets and towers while Connor casually barreled rolled for fun overhead. The morning flight had been an easy ride with the occasional excursion of playing in traffic and frightening a fellow flier or two with his slightly overenthusiastic flying. He smiled to himself as ponies of every kind were already filling the streets with morning jobs in mind. Connor glided down until he was flying above the roof tops of shops and businesses in one of the major markets. He picked a particularly wide cobblestone street to touch down on before he set to work.
The road he was on was already filling up with stands and merchandising booths for the upcoming Paint Wars tournament tomorrow; snack stands dotted the place while other places advertised deals on flags and foam hooves combos on competition day. Connor chuckled. “These ponies sure are fast at prepping for events.”
A yellow unicorn sweeping his front store mat waved a “Good morning!” to him as he passed by. Connor returned the wave with his own “Mornin’!” and smiled. Perhaps today would be a good day as he explored the city. He started off walking down the current market street at a steady pace as the market chatter grew louder with each passing minute.
“Hey, how much for these tomatoes?” one pony asked another while Connor passed a set of grocery stalls. “2 bits for the small ones and 3 for the larger ones.” the older pony vendor answered.
“2 bits?! I could find tomatoes for half that!” the older pony shrugged at the outrage. “Maybe those pulled out of the trash, but these are the freshest ones you'll find around, and I still have a family to feed.” They continued arguing for a bit as Connor lost interest and decided to listen in on a pair of taxi carriage drivers taking a break.
“Gosh, I'm not really sure I like having this whole Paint Wars game here in Canterlot.” he wiped his face with a hoof. “My last customer was some country colt who couldn't stop whistling to every mare that passed by. And before that, was a smelly griffon who left dead feathers all over my seats!”
“Come on, look on the bright side!” his friend slugged him in the shoulder, “This is great for business for us! My last ride was a pair of nobles who gave me a fat tip just for getting them across a few streets while missing the pushy vendors!” The taxi driver pony grumbled to himself about something Connor couldn't hear before the two drivers parted ways.
“Griffons, huh?” Connor inwardly laughed, “I bet they're just as cuddly and wuddly as everything else in this world.” He pressed forward through the thickening crowds letting his comment slip into forgotten memory.
“Okay, back to the mission at hand. The first thing I need to do is find out where the playing field will be during the competition. And that would be…” Connor stopped at an intersection where a few more candy booths were sitting. He looked left, then right hoping to catch any clues. “Well shift, this place seemed a lot easier to walk around in when twilight was with me.” He turned left and started walking again letting the city take him wherever it wanted.
“Hmm, I guess I could just pick a direction and see where it takes me?” he mused out loud. The streets crisscrossed, twisted, and curved around at its own discretion up inclines and down slumps. A couple times, Connor got confused and found himself back on streets he had already explored. “Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Somepony around here has got to have some kind of directions of where I can find it.”
Connor looked for the closest pony around that might know where the field might be. He spotted an orange unicorn mare with yellow hair in the crowd. As Connor got closer to her, she had a scowl stretching her lips as a slightly smaller, forest green Pegasus dragged his hooves behind her.
“Moooom!” the teenage colt moaned, “Why did you have to bring me along to go shopping? I was going to go hang out with Snap Play at the arcade!”
Mom sighed, “Because, sweetie, I need your help carrying all the groceries!” her son scoffed at her answer.
“ 'Cuse me!” Connor interjected before two could continue their banter. The mare turned and put on a tired smile. “Hi, do you think you can help me? I'm trying to find out where the field is for the Paint Wars tournament, but I don't know where it might be.”
“Oh, that?” the green Pegasus piped up, “That's on the other side of town. They've probably blocked off, like, three quarters of the market district for it.”
“Thank you, Fair Winds.” the mare rolled her eyes, “Sorry; yes, the field is being held over on the other side of the city.”
“Do you think you could give me some directions?” Connor asked.
“Sure,” the mare turned around and pointed down the street. “What you want to do is go down this street, take a left, then a right, and follow the road all the way down until you come to a T in the road. That's the edge of the field where they blocked off vendors from going any farther, but ponies are still allowed to go past since they can't cut off all the businesses there.”
“Ugh, I can't wait to get out of this city and be on my own!” Mom rolled her eyes again and Connor chuckled. “Seriously! I could move to Manehattan and I can do whatever I want. I don't have to be nagged, and I don't have to feel like Celestia is constantly watching my every move.”
“Fair!” the mare smacked the kid on the head, “You do not talk about the princess like that!”
“Ow! Hey!” he raised a defensive hoof to block any more attacks, “I'm just sayin'...!”
“Well look at it this way,” Connor looked the teenage pony in the eye, “Would you rather have a princess watching over you and willing to forgive you if you get into some trouble, or get hassled by every city cop who would love to write you a ticket that you have to pay for every little mistake you make?”
The kid stared at Connor for a second before lowering his head to sulk. Connor and the mare laughed at her son now pouting at the two of them. “Thanks for your help!” Connor waved goodbye and departed while the mare waved back. Just before he was out of ear shot, the kid said, “Can I go home now?”
“Boy, you are just in a complaining mood today, aren't you?”
That last bit struck a chord in Connor's heart somewhere that began to ache. “That's something my mom would say to me, sometimes...” he sniffed and cleared his throat.
He followed the mare's instructions as best he could, taking the turns at the points she indicated. While still keeping an eye on where he was going, Connor glanced over the dozens of booths he passed on the street. The vendors’ booths felt completely different compared to the ones in Appleloosa. There were the usual ones that sold hats, flags, and such, but then you had the more exotic ones. Gem stands, fashion huts, and even tiny vials filled with water from Princess Celestia’s personal garden were on proud display. The bottles were advertised to bring good luck to whomever kept the water close to them or even drank it. Even more strange was the one stand selling posters of different competitors from Paint Wars like they were already world champions. “A little early to be selling those kinds of posters yet, don’t you think?” Connor asked himself as he passed said vendor putting up one poster with the name ‘Velvet Touch’ printed on it.
Connor passed a few more vendors until he came to a T in the street and found what he was looking for. “Aha!” he shouted as he picked out a row of signs with the words ‘No booths past this point’ written on them lining the entrance to another street not too far from where he was. He trotted happily past the signs and began down his first street of the field. He took in every detail he could as he strolled down the road and rounded a corner to start on the next street. The space between the buildings and stores was decent; enough to fit about a couple of cars or so at some of the tighter points and as much as a semi at their widest, with all the buildings being about two to three stories high.
He side stepped a few ponies still doing some shopping as he veered left at a fork in the road, letting his mind keep a mental map of the place. His game plan was to try to stay low and in the streets to hopefully take advantage of his better maneuverability; but this was going to be a complicated place to fly in. switch backs, forks in the road, one or two open plazas, and ninety degree turns were only a few things on his list of intricacies about this place. It was going to be a tight place to fly in at speeds.
“Maybe I should take a few corners to get a feel of how fast I can fly…?” He spread his wings and took off from the ground staying low and under the roof lines. He sped up a little bit as he came to a ‘T’ in the road and banked loosely to the right. He let himself slip through the air a bit like a wet noodle gauging the readings his senses were telling him.
“Hmmm, maybe one more turn…” Connor muttered. He flapped harder letting his speed grow in excess as he approached another left corner. This time he banked around the turn and the sensation of his blood draining to his hooves hit him again. “Oooo! Ooo! Okay…! Okay; I see how this is…!” He slowed down as one of the open plazas came into view. He landed near one of the branching streets and turned around to face the open bowl of one of the plazas to gaze over the ponies going about their business in deep thought.
This was going to be interesting. A really tight field with plenty of corners and alleyways to cut through created a lot of different possibilities inside Connor’s imaginary war room. He grinned; this might be one of his favorite places to fly in, second to Appleloosa of course. Compared to Appleloosa’s long and fast sweeping corners in the canyons, Canterlot was chock full of tight corners and sneaky alleyways to surprise unsuspecting opponents. If he was the nimble motorcycle rider on this tight track, this would be his playground compared to the big muscle car fliers who were more suited for open skies.
“I wonder how low I could get in these corners?” He raised a hoof to his chin as his mind continued to fill with endless possibilities and simulations.
~~~
Menacing talons slashed at the cobblestone roads below as ponies purposely cleared a path down the street. Brown fur and lighter brown feathers bristled with power as hushed whispers followed the murderous beast as he paraded past ponies. Looks of fear proceeded the evil looking predator ahead of him as waves of uneasiness emanated from his body and rippled through the crowds.
The griffon allowed a small smile to himself as he marched down the road. He towered above any and all of these puny ponies by at least a head, and each of those ponies knew instinctively to let him pass by unobstructed. Even the so called royal guards never made eye contact with the giant griffon whenever he scorched them with his crazed, blood red glare.
“Little ponies know that Grundol iz strongest above all.” He thought as he thundered by. Grundol had expected more out of this boring little competition he had signed up for. But all he had got was a bunch of weak fliers not even worthy of the honor of being defeated by the talons of the Greatest Griffon in all of Griffonia.
Grundol had traveled all over Griffonia looking for powerful and worthy opponents to do battle with and had found a many of worthy griffons. But none were a match for the unlimited strength and ferocity of the great Grundol the Griffon! His reputation and fame as the strongest griffon spread across the country until no griffon dared to challenge him; not even the king of Griffonia would challenge him, if they even had a king. It was entertaining for a time being able to take whatever he wanted, but those joys were short lived and Grundol quickly lost interest.
He got bored taking without remorse and the only griffons that would ever challenge him to battle were young and naïve griffons who got too bold for their own sake; that is, until Grundol threw one punch and sent them all squawking back to their mother’s nest. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat as a particular memory of one griffon surfaced from his memory begging for mercy before Grundol even got within striking distance with him.
“[I yield! I yield!]” The young griffon croaked in the native tongue of Griffonia, “[Puh-please don’t destroy this foolish and stupid griffon who would dare accuse the great and powerful Grundol a fake and a lazy bird! I-I am the fake! I am the griffon who speaks lies to make myself seem stronger! I’ll offer you anything you may desire to keep the great Grundol happy; I-I’ll even offer my lovely, younger sister or myself as a servant to you!]”
“[You would offer your own younger sister to appease your enemy?]” Grundol growled in an unusually caring voice. He stood, the younger griffon trembling like a leaf as Grundol approached him, “[Grundol is a strong and powerful fighter who has fought many dangerous enemies that could have killed Grundol. Not once, did Grundol offer a sacrifice to avoid defeat.]” He frowned his beak, “[we are griffon, proud and honorable creatures who never surrender! Your sister should be one of your most valued treasures; never toss her around like some trinket!!]” The young griffon’s lower beak trembled under the weighty presence of Grundol before nodding. The young griffon darted out of great hall of the Inn leaving Grundol to smile hoping to have passed on some of the old griffon pride to the young.
Grundol was the strongest griffon in Griffonia; not the evilest.
But he did hope to earn new fame with this little game that had sprung up from the pony lands. Since Griffonia was no longer offering ways to grow his fame, he turned to this unique opportunity from Equestria to grow his reputation. So far he wasn’t impressed.
“Little ponies are boring prey. Ponies are too easy to fight.” He grumbled as another family hushed and hurried to get out of Grundol’s way. He was a few paces away from entering one of many plazas in the city when he stopped. A blue pony with his back to him blocked his path into the open street.
Grundol smiled hoping to have some fun with this clueless pony. He stood there overshadowing him, waiting for this pony to recognize the king standing just behind him and to let him pass just like all the other ponies did. But the blue pony continued to ignore him as he stared out at the plaza like a brain dead fool. “Little blue pony must know ’iz place…!”
Grundol stopped directly behind the pony and bore down on him with one of his strongest, most ferocious death glare; another pony on the side cowered from just the proximity of the stare. The blue pony seemed to pause in his stupidity and finally look behind him. His eyes traveled upward in awe at Grundol in his full glory standing a full head above him. His slack-jawed amazement brought a nugget of laughter to his beak as he loomed over him.
“Move, little pony.” His deep voice rumbled like thunder and shook the very earth below them.
He expected the blue pony to cower in fear like all the others and let Grundol pass; but the blue pony’s face changed from awe to a challenging stare. “Why?” he asked.
Grundol’s eyes narrowed, “I zaid so,” his growl growing more animalistic and predatorily with each passing moment of defiance.
“And who are you, exactly?” the pony was putting up a good display of fortitude, but Grundol could smell the stench of fear wafting off him in waves; perhaps this pony might be more fun than the rest of them.
“So, little pony wants a boasting match, hm?” He stretched his large, powerful wings out and flexed his bulging chest muscles, “My name Grundol the Griffon, Greatest and Strongest of all Griffons! No one dares challenge Grundol; Grundol haz defeated many powerful and vorthy opponents! Little ponies vill be no different!” He picked up a small wooden toy that had been dropped by a nearby foal and crushed it into powder with his bare talons.
He smirked as he watched the little blue pony stiffen and quiver at the sight of wooden bits tattering to the ground. He swallowed before looking back up at Grundol again. “My name's Connor, uh, quickest of all in, Ponyville! And I've seen plenty of hot shots like you get smacked down by the little guy. You'll be no different!” The little blue pony's voice rose as his self-confidence grew the more he talked.
Grundol laughed; this might prove more entertaining than he thought. “Grundol haz never been beaten by puny opponent; little blue pony will be crushed!” he took a step closer, almost beak to muzzle. “Little blue pony will fight like tiny bug that Grundol with crush like little toy!”
The pony wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Whew, do you bathe in your enemies' shirt as well?” he turned to wave a hoof in front of his face.
Grundol contorted his face, “Vhat?”
The pony snorted through his nose trying to clear it. “I'm saying, did a pigeon take a dump on you? Because you smell like a dead bird.” the blue pony smirked as Grundol anger rose. “If you talked as much as a pigeon took a dumped on the roof tops, you could coat an entire roof with a fresh coat of paint!”
Grundol pushed the little blue pony back a bit. “Little blue pony talks too much! Blue pony does not know hiz place!”
The pony stumbled back a couple of steps before returning the angry gaze. “And I think your just a fake trying to-!”
A talon snapped out and lifted the blue pony by the throat. “How dare blue pony call Grundol the griffon a fake!!” The crowds gathering around screamed in horror as they watched the griffon choke the Pegasus. Grundol’s snarling grin came back as he watched and listened to the struggling pony in his claws. But his mirth was short lived when he stared into the Pegasus’s eyes.
He grunted quietly in struggle and kicked a little in futility as he couldn’t reach him, but his eyes still held that determination to stand against Grundol. They refused to give in and accept defeat to the overwhelming force against his neck, dangling a few feet off the ground.
“Why von’t little blue pony submit!?” Grundol’s eye twitched and his face contorted with fury. His refusal to yield meant one thing to Grundol; he must teach this pony how to show respect. He reached back with a talon preparing to hit the flying blue dog. He locked eyes one last time with his prey, his face set with defiance and bravado.
“HALT!!”
“STOP RIGHT THERE!”
“DON’T MOVE!!”
Just as Grundol was about to hit the blue pony, four royal guards surrounded the griffon. Two already had their spears level with his chest while the other two stared down the giant griffon. Grundol eyed down the four guards around him calculating his chances of beating four armed guards.
“Put the Pegasus Down, Now!” one of the guards commanded. Grundol looked at the blue pony still struggling to breathe in his talons. He really wanted to show this child who was the better beast, but he knew better than to risk tackling the guards of Canterlot and risk forfeiting the competition. His eye spotted a few foals cowering just around the corner and his anger softened slightly at sight of the frightened young ones.
He dropped the blue pony unceremoniously on the ground and returned to all fours. The little blue pony choked and gasped for air his body desperately needed and shuffled himself away from Grundol, never turning his back to him. The guards moved to barricade themselves between Grundol and the blue pony.
“You,” the guard in front pointed at Grundol, “You are coming with us.” Grundol growled like a timber wolf, but complied nonetheless. He turned to be escorted away from the crowds, but threw one last glance over his shoulder.
“Bevare, little blue pony!” he shouted, “Grundol vill not forget this! Grundol vill have his fun in beating you!” He began marching down the street with guards flanking him all the way.
~~~
Connor hacked and coughed a few more times as he watched the towering griffon be taken into custody. The one guard that had remained there turned around and started asking him if he was alright. He nodded while waving the guard off and rubbed his throat where the Russian sounding griffon had grabbed him.
“Jeez us is Christmas, what was his problem?!” He coughed another time, starting to feel his body shaking from the adrenaline. He wouldn't admit it openly, but that griffon made him feel like the little guy in David and the Goliath from the old stories. His body shook again; he had to get himself under control. He couldn't show fear here right now; not in front of other possible tournament fliers around him.
He felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Connor turned then whirled around to face another griffon standing behind him, this one only maybe an inch or two taller than him and grayish feathers with soft teal eyes. “Can I help you…?” he growled, this time ready to fight the griffon if it tried anything; a hoof was already cocked back for a punch.
The griffon recoiled and put their talons up in defense. “No! Wait! I don't want to fight! Please!” Connor loosened his stance and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
The female sounding griffon lowered its talons and looked apologetically at him. “My name's Strella, I'm from griffon stone and I wanted to apologize for Grundol’s behavior.”
“Why?” Connor cocked an eyebrow, “And how do you know who that griffon was?”
She grimaced, “Um, can we walk while I try to explain? I promise, I don’t want hurt you.” She turned to the side offering to head into the plaza again. Connor eyed her up and down one last time before slowly taking a cautionary step forward to join her side. She smiled somewhat nervously as they continued to make their way back into the open sunlight.
“So, what do you want to explain to me? If it’s about griffons and how they’re not all bad, you’re going to have to sell a really good story to convince me otherwise about my current thoughts right now.” Connor squinted at Strella still looking apologetic.
“I'm sorry, Griffonia’s a tough place to grow up in; and there are a few still holding onto old traditions.”
“Griffonia?” Connor quirked.
“Yeah, our homeland for the griffons.” She cleared her throat, “Griffonia is an old country made by many traditions of honor and glory. Grundol is part of one of those traditions where a griffon goes on a journey seeking the title of greatest griffon. Few ever achieve it as there are many griffons who seek it,” she chuckled a little, “In fact, I once tried to be apart of the tradition.” She smiled and day dreamed about old, fond memories. The pair drifted through another street opening and down a narrow road with bakeries and other produce.
“Okay, so your ‘Brief’ history lesson explains the setting behind some things, but what’s your excuse for the poor attitude? And what made you stop from continuing the tradition? And why are you here anyways?” His bitter feelings were slowly being replaced by bouts of curiosity.
Strella smiled at him. “I'm here for the same reason you are here; the competition!”
“ ’Course.” Connor rolled his eyes smiling as well.
“But to answer your other questions, griffons are a proud kind. We kind of hold our victories high and constantly try to see who is the best griffon. Though, Griffonia has been going through a bit of a slump recently; that's why Grundol is going around trying to gain more fame for his home country. We heard about this Paint Wars game getting a lot of popularity here in Equestria, so we decided to try and get a few victories to bring back home.” She giggled to herself again.
“Okay, one last question,” Connor raised his hoof like a student in class, “What is up with your and Grundol’s accents? Grundol’s accent makes me think he is from one place, but yours makes me think of someplace else. I can’t figure out how you too could be born in the same country with two completely different accents…!”
Strella laughed again at Connor’s confusion. “Griffonia has a lot of cultures surrounding it; some griffons visit them and end up bringing back some foreign culture with them. Grundol is known to be a true native of Griffonia all his life. But I traveled to one of the neighboring countries, to a place called Varmblud, during my times of traveling for glory; and stopped while in that new country.” They paused at another ‘T’ intersection to go left down a street that opened up with a few outdoor cafés and mid-level restaurants.
“What made you stop?” Connor inquired.
“Well, I heard some interesting things from back home and figured it might be a good idea to come back.” Strella suddenly found the sky very interesting. “Did you know that Grundol has a record of beating over 352 griffons in single combat? And not once did he ever accept defeat even with a dislocated wing and a few broken ribs?”
“Uuh, no, I didn't know that.” Connor tried to process the slight detour in the conversation. “But what does that have to do with you leaving a different country?”
“Huh, what?” Strella finally seem to regain her thoughts.
“How does Grundol's wins affect your going back home from whatever country you were visiting in?” he restated.
A slight red hue came through the feathers on her cheeks. “Oh, well, not much. It was just some gossip I was hearing about him while I was coming back. It’s not like I'm a fan of him or anything; he's just a pretty famous griffon from Griffonia, that's all.”
“So you are a fan of him?” Connor watched a pony couple nuzzle each other at a random table.
“No I'm not! Well, maybe a little...” Strella admitted. “But he's just so strong and honorable! He’s just like one of those knights in shining armor!”
“Wait, really?!” Connor laughed incredulously, “I thought I was just joking, but you're actually being serious! I was wondering why you were talking so much about him! And that random fact about how you knew exactly how many griffons he'd beaten you slipped in was just weird!”
Connor laughed again while Strella continued blushing. “And I'm going to guess here that the reason you're with me right now is so that you can get your idol forgiven?” Strella brightened with hopeful eyes. “Not gonna happen. If he wants to make up for today, he’s going to have to do it himself.”
“But he's really nice once you get to know him!” she pleaded. “When Grundol came to griffon stone to challenge our strongest griffon, he stopped to play with some of the younger griffons I was watching for some extra bits! He was really sweet and kind to all of them while he was helping me. And even after he beat our strongest griffon, he came back again to play with them some more. It was amazing seeing Grundol go from a fearless warrior to this big softy with the kids. I wanted to try spending more time with him, but he took off again in search of more fights.”
Strella’s eyes suddenly turned steely. “So yeah, Grundol may be a bit tough, but he’s really nice; and he's trying to see if you’re a pony who will stand up for themselves, or run and hide or something!”
“That doesn't matter!” Connor countered loudly, “And how do you know what he's thinking? Have you spent enough time to know Grundol personally, or do you just have big crush on him and want to spend more time with him?” there was a silence from Strella. “Oh, you've got to be kidding me...”
“L-Look, will you at least try to give him another chance, please?” Strella finally got out to a face hoofing Connor.
“Uugh, fine!” he groaned, “I will consider giving him a second chance, simply for the fact that I’ve had to deal with kids too (especially when I taught martial arts). But we’ll see what he is going to do next time I see him; and don't think I'm going to forgive him for choking me!”
Strella beamed. “Thank you so much, this means a lot to me! I promise, you won't regret it.” she spread her wings and gave a powerful flap and a wave, “good luck in the competition!”
“Thanks, and you too!” Strella left Connor standing there in the streets still waving goodbye. Connor put his hoof back down once she was out of sight and sighed. Here was another aspect in this world he was going to have to adjust for. And it was for something that seemed to have a history for the old thinking of ‘Bigger is stronger’ and hard tradition, or something along those lines.
He let out another frustrated sigh as he chose to shelve that problem and come back to it when he had some free time. Right now, he was still busy with creating a mental map of the field he was going to be playing in.