//------------------------------//
// 11 - The Greatest Game (Part 3 - End) 
// Story: The Adventures of Flesh and Bone 
// by Meep the Changeling 
//------------------------------//



Twilight Sparkle - 21st of Lunar Dusk, 08 EoH

West Bloomfield - Equestria

Princess Twilight Sparkle and Princess Celestia stood huddled together in the corner of Celestia’s throne room.

Twilight’s eyes were full of tears as she looked over her shoulder for only a brief instant at the griffon standing some distance away. “This is bad.”

Celestia inclined her head in agreement. “Extremely… I’m not entirely certain what we should do.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “Where is Luna? Why isn’t she here?”

“I told her to come… I think she didn't want to start any international incidents.”

Twilight rubbed her temples with her hooves. “A bit late for that now. Isn’t it?”

Celestia sighed and turned around. “Indeed…” The Princess cleared her throat and put on a dignified mask as she addressed the griffon. “High King Er—”

A flash of blinding blue light blinded all thirty of the room’s occupants, a thunderclap riding along with the light. Griffon guards dropped their weapons with cries of pain. Royal Guardsmen silently wished their uniforms included sunglasses and earplugs. The Princesses cried out in alarm, not certain what was happening.

Princess Luna emerged from the flash of light, clad in her personal armor. Glimmering black plates of steel inlaid with silver stars shone in the light coming from the many chandeliers hanging from the throne room ceiling. The same light made the blade of Luna’s halbard gleam wickedly as it floated before her, held in a guard position by her magic.

Luna’s eyes narrowed to slits behind her helmet’s visor. She glared into the small griffon’s very soul. “THOU THINKS THEE CAN SLAY MY SISTER AS YOUR FORCES MARCH UPON WEST BLOOMFIELD? THINK AGAIN, FOOL!”

Luna raised her halbard to strike. The High King looked up at the blade, accepting his imminent death with either grace and dignity or calm acceptance.

Twilight’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. She held out one hoof. “LUNA! NO!”

Luna turned her head, her blade stopping just as her swing began. “WHY?”

Celestia let out a breath she didn’t know she had held. She pointed to Luna's target. “He’s twelve.”

Luna blinked and looked back down at her target. The mighty griffon warrior she had been expecting was indeed rather short, and covered in white pre-pubescent fluffy feathers rather than an adult’s plumage. “Then… We’re not at war? But the griffons are invading the town of West Bloomfield as we speak! I was just there.”

Twilight ran across the Throne room and took hold of Luna’s halbard with her arcane grip, lowering it to Luna’ side gently. “I believe you. His father, the previous High King was assassinated this morning while getting ready to attend this meeting. Eren in here seeking political asylum.”

Celestia nodded grimly. “The Griffon Kingdom has collapsed into anarchy.”

The young High King rolled his eyes. “Nah. There’s order and stuff. And governments. It’s collapsed into like, fourteen warring factions. All of whom hate dad, and me, because he kept telling people not to hunt and eat you guys.”

Luna pursed her lips. “Then… Are your pirates as organized as military forces? The tactics on display—”

Celestia held up one hoof. “Excuse me, did you say one of our villages is under attack?”

Luna nodded once. “Yes. I dispatched the army, deployed some heros, and came to ensure you were not being assassinated. The village will be fine.”

Twilight frowned. “Wait, the border towns really are raided by griffon pirates? I thought that was a myth.”

“It’s a myth,” Eren snorted.

Luna raised an eyebrow. “I was just there. Do not lie to me. Instead, explain why their tactics are—”

“I’m not lying. It’s a myth because they are not pirates. Dad said that so you wouldn't fight him. It’s actually like, one of three different noble families who are stupid and think ponies are the only prey worth hunting.”

Twilight’s ears lay back in an odd mix of anger and worry. “And you didn’t tell us this because… Why?”

The young High King blushed and shrugged. “War’s bad, apparently? I don’t know! All I know is every time dad told them to stop someone died.”

Luna took a deep breath and dipped her head down to look into the young Griffon’s eyes. “Sorry for trying to chop your head off.”

Eren blinked. “Uh, why would you be sorry about that?”

Luna’s eyes widened. “Because you were not the enemy I believed you to be.”

Eren ruffled his wings, visibly confused. “Well yeah, but, we’re nobles. Don't we just like, kill each other? That’s our job. Right?”

The three princesses shared an astonished look for several long moments. When it was over, Celestia cleared her throat and looked into Eren’s eyes. “No.”

Her message delivered, Celestia turned her attention to her sister. “It would seem the Griffon’s current state of civil war was inevitable. Please return to the forces you deployed to West Bloomfield and oversee the defense. Then return here so we can plan defences and possible military assistance for the young High King.”

Luna nodded and offered her sister a salute. “Yes, Ma’am.”

The Royal Guards quickly looked down a the floor and covered their ears, sewing confusion within Eren’s personal guard. The Princess of the Night vanished in a second bright blue flash. The confusion which had overtaken the High King’s guards, vanished along with Princess Luna.




Tractor Pull - 21st of Lunar Dusk, 08 EoH

West Bloomfield - Equestria

Crusader rumbled in place as Thunder looked out through the spotting scope at the Majesty. The little pegasus's wings twitched as he smiled. “That did it! Let’s get the other one and ground this bird.”

Bunker shook her head slowly. “That’s not how these work. If we take down the engines the airship can’t move horizontally, but it will still be able to go up and down. The feather-like bits handle that.”

“I’m not sure we have the firepower to take those out,” Thunder mused as he looked over the thick sections of wing.

Trac smirked. “It doesn't matter. If it’s stuck over the town we can send infantry up to it. Her speed should be halved now. It won't get away before reinforcements arrive.”

Bunker winced, her ears laying back. “Uh, dude? I know they’ve hurt you, but you need to dial it down a little. You can gloat later. I’ll be right there with you. For now please focus on your job.”

Trac’s mouth pulled downwards. “Sorry, Sarge. I’ll focus on driving.”

“Good,” Bunker said as she peeked through the Commander’s scope.

The unicorn mare watched as silver dots began to fly up from the town’s streets and alleyways. Hawks falling back to the Majesty. Bunker nodded to herself and flicked on Crusader’s arcane scopes. “They noticed we hit their engine. Looks like they are starting to retreat to the ship. Trac, take us in a straight line to the other side. Ignore the buildings, they’re all on fire anyways.”

Trac nodded, his eyes dilating as he focused his attention on the controls in front of them. “Yes, Ma’am!”

Trac turned his head to the left, putting his eyes up to the left-side driver’s periscope to get a fix on their position. Driving through buildings was something a Bronco could do, but only if it took care not to collapse the entire thing atop itself. The warmachine could only carry so many tons.

A bank’s fire-blackened brick storefront filled most of the pariscope’s view. The glass had been blown out from a fire’s intense heat. The gaping wound within the brick structure showed the flames had hollowed out most of the building already.

“We need to go around this one, Sar—” Trac’s throat closed as something moving in the corner of his periscope drew his attention.

Trac turned the Periscope. Whatever it was beige. Remarkably clean beige. Hardly what one would expect to see in a burning town. The paracope’s lense turned, and Barron Murcrow came into view.

Beige hunting clothing. Leather vambraces. An expensive double-rifle held in steely-talons. Red-brown feathers arranged in a distinctive pattern. A pith helmet, with a bronze family crest pinned to the front.

Trac’s heart stopped. His legs tensed up, demanding he run. His hooves tightened around Crusader’s control sticks. The blood in his veins began to run cold.

“You…” Trac whispered.

Bunker frowned, her ears swiveling to face the driver’s seat. “What was that?”

Trac’s heart started beating again. Slowly at first, but with ever building steam. His chilled blood began to warm, threatening to boil.

His eyes fixed on the crest, his vision blurring until the griffon wearing it vanished, replaced by a much younger griffon in the same helmet. The feathers were a little less vibrant now, and their beak had gotten a little crooked, but there could be no mistake.

Trac’s lips peeled back as he grit his teeth. “BUCK YOU!”

The enraged stallion threw his full weight against the control sticks and Crusader shot forward with a mechanical roar. The sudden start tipped the tank back, the front end rising like the opening maw of an angry beast.

The Baron’s eyes shrank to pinpricks. His wings flared on instinct, flapping as he dove to the side to get out of death’s way. The Silver Hawks accompanying their Baron lept upwards, wings snapping open as they took to the air to dodge the charging beast.

Crusader blazed across the street and dozens of tons of warmachine met the Baron as he dove out of the way. The Baron’s shield had been designed to stop small fast moving things. As a big, slow thing began to roll over it, the shield simply squeezed down, conforming to the shape of what the simple spell believed was a wall its owner decided to lean against.

Steel tread met flesh and bone, biting into the Baron’s hind legs and dragging him to the ground. A steel hammer fell, and feline paws became dust upon a cobblestone anvil.

Trac pulled the sicks back, bringing the tank to a stop atop the Baron’s legs and tail.

Thunder winced as the high pitched shriek pierced Crusader’s engine noise. Bunker’s eyes widened, her nostrils flaring as she looked to the sensor screen. “We hit someone! Was it a civilian? I didn’t—”

Trac’s left eye twitched as his brain played out the scene it had just taken part in and determined something most critical. “We missed him!”

Trac unbuckled and jumped up from his seat. He was on the ladder in a flash. Before Thunder of Bunker could process he had stood up, Trac popped the hatch and slipped out onto the turret top.

Trac’s hoof flew to his belt, drawing his service pistol. He fumbled with the weapon, nearly dropping it as rage coursed through his trembling hooves.

Trac stepped over to the side and glared down at the screaming griffon. He leveled his gun and grit his teeth. “HOW DO YOU LIKE IT WHEN BULLETS RAIN ON YOU?!”

Trac’s hoof curled, squeezing his weapon’s trigger. The heavy-pistol barked, spitting lead towards the screaming griffon. Hot lead bounced off the Baron’s forcefield, the magic belt-buckle still quite active. Trac pulled the trigger again and again. Hot brass rained down, bouncing off the turret top and forcefield until Trac’s weapon clicked dry.

The Baron slumped and thrashed, his vision turning white as pain began to steal away consciousness.

Trac’s face twisted into a cruel glare. “You’re still alive?! YOU'RE STILL ALIVE?!”

He turned around, grabbing hold of Crusader’s swivel gun mount to swing the bolter around and take a shot. Bunker’s iron hoof reached up from the hatch and grabbed Trac by the throat, yanking his face down until his nose pressed against the mare’s own.

“What the buck is your malfunction, Trac?!” Bunker roared, grabbing Trac’s collar with her other hoof.

Trac’s vision turned red. “Let. Me. Go! He took Birch from me!”

Bunker blinked, her anger at her subordinate popping the hatch in the middle of a warzone evaporating in an instant. “Oh. Carry on then.”

Trac popped back out of the hatch and took hold of the swivel gun again. He spun around, angling the weapon to point down. A silver axe sliced through the air. Trac flicked his head to the side on instinct. The axe bit air.

The Hawk wielding the axe landed atop the turret with a clang and took another swing at Trac’s exposed head. “Cut him free! I can’t keep this up for long!”

Trac growled and ducked again and again as the Hawk swing his blade, striking air and metal alike. A wet meaty sound reached Trac’s ears even as he recoiled down into the hatch.

“Got him! Shield’s extended over us. Get clear before the others open fi—”

The sound of a large bolter firing made Trac wince. Half a dozen superheated bolts struck Crusader’s side, pinging off after leaving scorch marks. The Hawk atop the turret swore and took to the air, joined a heartbeat later by another two Hawks who carried a limp bleeding form between them.

Trac’s eyes locked onto the unconscious Baron, focusing on the bleeding stumps of his tail and hind-legs. “He wont die from that,” Trac said matter-of-factly.

He returned to the swivel gun in a heartbeat. Hooves gripped handles. Triggers squeezed. A line of military-grade bolts blazed towards their target, streaking forth with nearly as much fury and hatred as the stallion who had fired them.

The bolts slammed into the forcefield, stopping dead. Trac growled and adjusted his aim, deciding to hit the Hawks bearing the grifon who had haunted his nightmares for years to safety. More bolts raced towards the fleeing griffons. Yet more bolts stopped dead as they hit the invisible shield.


Trac unleashed a scream of hatred which shook the very ground Crusader rested upon. “NO! YOU DON’T GET AWAY TWICE! YOU BUCKING DON’T GET AWAY TWICE!”

Bunker’s heart churned in her chest as she sank into her seat.

Ameili took a step back, fearing yet another friend had fallen into the berserker's rage from which none had returned.

Flint winced, his ears falling flat. “Buck… That’s a lot of hate.”

Thunder watched the bolts bounce imputently off their target through Crusader’s sights. His brow furrowed with irritation. “Don’t worry, sweetie.”

Thunder squeezed his trigger. Crusader shook as the main gun spat fire and fury. Eight kilograms of lead smashed into the Baron’s force field, detonating in a blinding ball of orange flames and arcane light.

Thunder smiled in satisfaction as bits of flesh and twisted metal rained from the sky. “Mine’s bigger.”

Trac started blankly at the remnants of the fireball for several long seconds. He closed his eyes and let out a long slow breath. A smile parted his lips. “Thank you, Celestia.”

Thunder’s ears flicked back against his head. “Hey! I took the shot, not her!”

Trac nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’ll get your thanks later.” When Bunker isn’t around.




Aemiliana Tarquinius Cyprianas - 21st of Lunar Dusk, 08 EoH

West Bloomfield - Equestria

Across the square from Crusader, Flint turned to Ameili and gave her a quick smile. “Well, you should probably go to your friend. I've got other things to take care of.”

Ameili blinked, her tattered latex body only barely able to perform the gesture. “How do you know we’re friends?” Her eyes narrowed, her left hoof drew her gladius from her scabbard. “Who are you?”

Flint held up one hoof and smiled. “Hey, take it easy there, Bone. We’re all friends here.”

Ameili’s brow furrowed. Flint’s smile softened slightly. “No but seriously. I need you to get that tank out of here.”

Then the pony vanished in a flash of green fire. The fire raced across his form, melting white fur into black chitin and transforming leaf green mammalian eyes into glittering emeralds with a thousand facets. A changeling. One from the hive Ameili had met long a ago and far away.

Ameili’s mind kicked into high gear. “What are you guys doing this far north?”

The changeling offered Ameili a shrug. “Classified. Don’t worry. It doesn't concern you. I shouldn’t have helped out here, but… Well, I had too. Though if you really do want to know, ask Trac if you can read the journal I gave him a few months back. Now if you’ll excuse me… I’m technically on the clock and have an assignment.”

Flint looked around, scanning the ground for an intact griffon corpse. Spotting one he memorized it’s appearances, concentrated his unique magic, and with a flash of emerald flames copied its form, and slumped over, feigning death.

Ameili hesitated for several long moments, then nodded to herself. “Your people were friendly to me… I’ll help you.”

The pyromancer summoned one last ball of blue flame and incinerated the corpse the changeling had copied, turned her back, and limped towards Crusader.


Trac turned as Ameili’s hooves clinked against Crusader’s hull. His eyes widened. “A— Ameili! What the buck happened to you?!”

Ameili offered Trac a smile. “I can’t say no to saving ponies, Trac…” The ancient mare looked up at the airship hanging over the town. “There’s still enemies on the field.”

Trac nodded. “Yeah. Don’t worry. The army’s on the way and they're going nowhere once we take out the other engine.”

Ameili’s one remaining ear flicked as a mare’s voice called out from the turret. “Uh, Trac? Are you talking to an undead mare wearing a bodysuit?”

Trac looked down the hatch. “Yeah. She’s friendly. Actually, she’s the mare who’s been teaching me how to drive better.”

“... Really?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Ameili.”

A tense second passed. Ameili readied herself to run, believing the order would come to fire on her.

“How hurt is she?” Bunker said after a moment.

Ameili frowned. Her protesting body was a jumble of pain and aches. But her heart burned hot, more than willing to put down a few more of the enemy before taking a well deserved rest. “A good deal. But I can still fight, and there are more enemies left to kill.”

“Well, this isn’t the weirdest thing to happen to us this week. Hop on the bolter, Ameili. Trac, other side of the airship, please.”

Trac looked down at Ameili and nodded towards the bolter. “This will be free in a minute. Climb on up and—”

Ameili shook her head and climbed up onto Crusader’s tread. “No thank you,” She pointed her blade towards the airship and walked to the front of the track. “Drive us closer. I want to hit them with my sword.”

Trac smirked. “You got it.”

Trac vanished down the ladder, closing the hatch as he went. Crusader creaked as it began to chug through the streets towards the other side of town.

Fire burned brightly around Crusader. Griffons fled before it. The rumble of Crusader’s mechanical brethren began to roll in from the horizon. West Bloomfield’s suffering was over, its new heros had seen to that.


FIN