//------------------------------// // Day 2 - Gobble Alert, It Begins // Story: The Gobble Wars // by Glen Gorewood //------------------------------// Deep in the Thankful Forest, The Great Hollow, first day of The Griffin Feast Hunt Tombel stares in complete awe at the great and ancient grounds that are currently filled to the brim with his feathery flock of friends and kin. Hundreds of turkeys, nay thousands, have gathered to hear the words of the Great Tom. The words that might save them all from certain doom at the claws of the Griffons. All whom are present know acutely of the loss incurred each year in this month, and are willing to do anything to stop the carnage. Tombel Turkeyton holds the sacred GBF close to his fluffy feathered chest, the mystical bow from which justice shall be served is now a symbol of hope to all turkey kind. The night before he had spent listening to the words of wisdom the Great Tom wished to give unto him and his fellows. Tombel had learned of the powers of taffy, the greatness of traps, the all consuming methods behind gorilla warfare, and of course how to properly maximize the potential of forks and other cutlery to defend oneself. It had all led up to this, the morning of the greatest speech of his life. A speech that would be backed by the great and almighty Tom, who was currently settled in a nest of marshmallow fluff and sorting forks by not color. That wise and most vast of Turkey deities had promised to say some grand words once Tombel finished his speech. And so now the time had finally come. Tombel waddles up to the megaphone, his mere motions quieting all comments in the crowd. Clearing his throat, the great gobbling turkey Tombel begins to speak the word of Tom, the only hope for his people. “My fellow Turkeys.” He begins, his great beak gleaming in the rock candy lights. “Behind me sits our savior, the Great Tom, who has come down from the divine skies to give us the gift of hope and forks. May he be forever vast and gluttonous.” The crowd crows back, “The most vast is he.” Tombel grins, continuing his speech with a near religious fervor. Raising the GBF high he speaks. “The Great Tom has given me this most sacred of artifacts, and key to our survival, the Great Bow of Forkipulation; a sign of his favoring us with his divine gizzard.” The crowd responds, “The largest of gizzards has he.” Tombel smiles, his heart so overtaken with his task he is unaware of the Great Tom making bunny ears upon his head. “We, the Turkeys of the Thankful Forest, have for too long been beset yearly by the horrendous Griffon horde. They take from us our chicks, our wives, our husbands, our brothers, and our family and friends. Too many have fallen to their villainous talons and blades. Only to be basted and devoured except for one remaining survivor. How many of you have lost a loved one to this yearly Massacre my fellow turkeys?” Every single feathered turkey in the crowd raised a wing. As did Carl, the one turkey who had no feathers and claimed to have been abducted by aliens last year. Tombel nods, shouting into the megaphone he continues his grand speech. “Well the Great Tom has spoken to me, and told me that this year we shall no longer be hunted like mere animals. Nay, this year we shall fight back against the evil that invades our forest each year. With the powers and gifts of the Great Tom, we shall stand our ground against those horrible monsters. This year, it will not be a massacre. For this year will be the year that brings forth the first Gobble War, may the forks protect you my friends. For tommorow we fight for our lives. Who will stand with me and the Great Tom!” Every single turkey in attendance screamed, “Yeaaaah!” With Carl mumbling something about giving those aliens what was coming to them. The crowd went wild, with whoops and gobbles and cheers of joy. The Great Tom then approached the megaphone, and all became quiet in awe of the most vast and enormous of all turkey kind. The Great Tom, who is really truly Not Discord, cleared his throat before commencing with his words of wisdom. “My most favored of fowl, my Turkeys, I shall give to you the gift of taffy and traps, and freedom. You shall go forth on this day, and use those powers to crush the griffins. Make their wings unmovable, make their limbs mired, and most importantly.” The great god takes a deep breathe before shouting so loud it turns some shrubs into bunnies with great jaws that go scampering off who knows where. “YOU SHALL FORK THEM IN THE REAR!” The crowd of gobblers goes wild, shouting things like, “Fork them”, “Stick a fork in them,” and “Pasta la vista griffins.” Indeed the puns were so riotous that they caused even the trees themselves to cringe. It is a feast of freakish fork puns to say the least. The Great Tom, his work done, returned to the sacred nest of Marshallow fluff and began to drink chocolate milk. As he did so, Tombel marched into the crowd, his eyes shining with megaphone in hand. Placing it upon his beak he shouts one final word. “Turkeys, let us arm ourselves. For today we prepare for battle, and tommorow we fight for forks!” The cheers begin anew, and the turkeys armed themselves for war. The Gobble Wars had begun. A fact of which the Griffins were still unaware. For now at least. Border of the Griffin Kingdom and Thankful Forest, the Griffin Feast Hunt Camp Gilda groaned into her claw, her mother’s antics had indeed forced her to be on a loser team this year. With her trusty great sword strapped to her back, she is the picture of an ideal hunting Griffin. Sadly, she is stuck with the biggest team of losers in the entire kingdom. No amount of awesome flying will ever let her live this down. Her team is made up of her and the three most freakishly messed up Griffins in the entire kingdom. Standing beside her on her right is Grom, a very bulky and quite dim Griffin who can barely fly and is armed with a battle axe. His feathers are solid black, with a bright green patterned feathers upon his face and neck. How on earth he ever bagged his first turkey is a mystery to all. To her left is Gorna, a very lanky female Griffin with curly feathers with a peach and cream mottled pattern. That in and of itself would not be a problem, after all lanky and lean Griffins are great with bows. No the problem was that Gorna was unequivocally girly to the extreme. Her talons were manicured, she wore makeup, and even her hunting bow was bedazzled. Worst of all, her arrows had unicorns printed on them, bright pink unicorns. Yet the last team member was the worst. Father GracGruder was a middle aged Griffin with a solid white feathered head and purple feathers on his body that were set in a pattern with the white and black ones that resembled a priests robes. He had sworn an oath of non violence, and wore an actual ancient clergy outfit. According to him, and only him, Father GracGruder had once survived a zombie attack in a foreign land. He also had no weapon, only a saddlebag with a book in it. He was only in the hunt because he had missed the previous five years worth, and had never bagged a turkey. Gilda groaned in metaphorical agony, this was going to be a very long November. Thankfully the actual hunt didn’t start till the next day, so at the very least she would have some time to figure something out concerning this team of losers she was stuck with. “Oh my gosh, this is absolutely awful, the worst possible thing that could ever happen to me.” Gorna bemoaned in her trademark valley Griffin accent. Gilda grumbled back, “I know, this is the worst thing that could have possibly happened to me.” Gorna puts a claw to her face and gasps, “Oh my gosh, this is the worst thing isn’t it? I can’t imagine trying to hunt like this, it’s just so totally awful.” “I know.” Gilda responds in a very unamused voice. Curious she can’t help but ask, “You are talking about the hunt right?” Gorna stares, the look of utter confusion in her eyes a giveaway that she and Gilda are not on the same page. “Well no you see..”. The rather vain and pretty Griffin begins. “What is it, out with it already!” Gilda shrieks, her annoyance at this ridiculous horrible situation getting the best of her. Gorna holds out her right claw with her perfectly manicured and pink nail polish coated pointer talon up for Gilda to see. “I cracked a talon.” She cries in utter diva despair, posed in such a way that she looks very much like a certain drama prone unicorn. Gilda face claws, wondering what she did wrong to be stuck with this bunch of Griffin train wreck losers as her hunt team. “This is going to be a long Hunt,” she says once more as Gorna continues to fuss over her talon as if the world has ended. Little does Gilda and her rag tag team of misfit Griffins know that it will indeed be a very long November. However not for the reasons she thinks, for in just a single day the Griffins quarry has made plans that will change the Griffin Feast Hunt forever. Meanwhile in Canterlot Princess Celestia looks up from her tea, a feeling like something chaos ridden is about to occur striking her like a rather large shrubbery in the horn. Turning to her sister Luna she asks, “Lulu have you seen Discord lately? I just felt a disturbance in the magical field.” Luna stops nibbling on a crumpet, after thinking for a moment she responds nonchalantly. “Last that We heard from Fluttershy was that he was off on a vacation somewhere to the West Tia.” Celestia pauses, curious as to what exactly a god of chaos would do on vacation. Her mind goes over the many possibilities, but finally she is satisfied with the knowledge that Discord is reformed and would never do anything to harm any living creatures in Equestria. Luna pokes her sister. “Equis to Tia, what art though thinking about?” Celestia shakes her head, her ethereal mane flowing to and fro. Responding in a light hearted tone she answers her sister. “Oh it’s nothing Luna, I’m probably just overthinking things. More tea?” Luna nods and holds out her teacup in her magic. “Yes please sister, it is quite wonderful tea.” And so Celestia pours her sister some tea as they enjoy the late afternoon together before she must set the sun. Both are oblivious to what is occurring one kingdom over, and will continue to be so until a letter arrives in about twenty five days time. But that is then, and this is now, for now begins the true start of the Gobble Wars. Equis will never be the same.