Cough…cough, COUGH!
A tired corpse rested its knee onto the hard, rocky ground. The corpse belonged to a beaten and bruised stallion who had been on the run for days. He hadn’t done anything particularly wrong, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Because of that unfortunate folly, he was now being chased after by all of Griffhala.
His wings were starting to feel limp, and his legs could barely hold him up any longer. No longer could he keep pushing his body passed its limits. Exhaling rapidly, the stallion tried to move, but only managed to trip and fall. His chin smacked the ground hard, clacking his teeth together.
“I’m sorry…sis.”
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It seemed like a normal Tuesday when it started, but then again, all Tuesdays seem normal when they start. The king of Griffhala, Griffax IX has just sat down for a nice breakfast. Indeed it was a king’s breakfast, filled with a vast variety of foods. From grapes to sausage and juice to bacon, the king had all the luxuries that could be provided. Of course, he was the king after all. Your average griffon family had to go hunting for breakfast, lunch and dinner. As it stood, the king was happily gorging himself on his delicious assortment on fine meats and fruits when an unexpected intruder burst through the door.
Well, through isn’t exactly the best word. More like, the intruder magically appeared on the king’s head. Halfway into a bite of bacon, the king’s mouth hung open in hungry astonishment. Feeling a disturbing weight atop his head, he simply raised his eyes to view his new hat. The guards, placed with such finesse around the room could do nothing more than the king. Everyone sat or stood staring at the stranger with mixed confusion.
“What the hell? What just happened?” Questioned the intruder.
Completely ignoring the fact that he was atop of the king’s cranium, the unknown trespasser bounced his eyes around the room. Looking down, his eyebrow raised in wonder. It was a simple decision to jump down, but that would be the only simple decision of that day.
The long legs of the invader bent perfectly as he planted his hooves into the newly tiled floor. His body moved with a grace and strength only attainable through years of intense practice. It was the practice of a runner, a being made and crafted for speed and endurance.
The click-clack of his hooves against the tile set the cogs of the guards back in motion. Immediately they rushed to encircle him. The guards all looked the same to this confused intruder. Each griffon was given a set of armor, identical in every way except perhaps size. Even the shimmer and shine from the sun onto the armor matched.
“I’m sorry, but can one of you kind griffons tell me where I am?” He asked ever so politely, with just a little hint of sarcasm.
“You are intruding on the Great King Griffax’ Palace. You are hereby under arrest with no chance for trial,” announced one of the guards. It could’ve been the leader, but they really did all look the same to him.
He started casually walking towards the enormous door at the end of the room. “Now, now boys. This is all just a huge misunderstanding. If you’ll just let me out of this door here, then -”
Oomf! He coughed as he crashed into the chest of one of the guard griffons.
“I’m not getting out, am I?”
An unamused guard shook his head. Each of the griffons, save the king himself, had a large spear in hand. A quality guard weapon, but still not top notch. The trapped intruder turned around, only to come face to face with the enclosing circle of griffons. His head turned slightly, this way and that, with his eyes not too far behind. He could feel the cold breath from the beak of the griffon behind him on his neck. Taking him longer than he had wished, he found himself staring at a stained glass window behind the rock of a throne for the griffon king.
“I hate to destroy a good piece of art,” he breathed to himself. He spoke again, this time aloud, “Ah well, the scars will heal.”
Immediately, his wings flared up behind him. Autumn orange feathers lilted to the floor with their rising. And like that he bolted forward, vaulting himself just over the tips of the guard’s spears. A huge grin on his face, the intruder collided with the stained glass barrier. The glass was no match for his speed and weight, and shattered upon impact. The colorful dust and shards rained down upon the unfinished breakfast. Behind it, a whirlwind of feathers blew about in the guards faces.
“I guess the window can be fixed too,” chuckled the now escapee, not even bothering to glance back.
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Back inside the palace, a hungry and now infuriated griffon king rallied his men. “I want every single personnel out there looking for him! I want him found and I want him here! Dead or alive.”
Little did the escapee know that he had been the perfect distraction for one certain, Maxido Grillana. Maxido had been planning a revolution in the griffon kingdom for years. Too long had his people been subject to an uncaring and wasteful tyrant. He planned to right this wrong by eliminating the king himself and taking the throne.
Still, even the great Maxido did not anticipate this event. The perfect compilation of confusion and chaos needed to both assassinate his target and rally even the most royalty-faithful griffons behind him. The treacherous griffon laughed to himself as he watched the intruder fly through the most undeniable testament to the griffon king’s reign. The stained glass portrait of his ancestors.
Maxido licked his beak with heavily weighted anticipation. With his freshly sharpened claws, he sent the signal to his men, the guards, in the room. Removing themselves from the situation of the intruder, the indefinable mass of griffons surrounded their leader.
The king, surprised as he was hungry, yelled at his men, “What are you buffoons doing? Get that intruder!”
Breaking the tightly knit circle of feathers and fur, Maxido strolled himself pompously in front of Griffax. He flicked his left claw out, letting the refreshed sunlight glint of its points. One by one, he curled each talon into his palm, clenching it tightly into a fist. As he did, his beak twisted into an angry scowl.
“Too long have we been subject to your inane wants and decrees.”
The king tried interrupting his speech, but failed miserably so, “Maxido! What is the meaning of this?”
“Quiet you imp!” Maxido screeched back. “If you don’t want to hear my list of grievances, then I guess I’ll just get on with the exchange of power. You see, it works like this. Maxido Grillana, that’s me by the way, will use his left claw to slit the throat of King Griffax IX, that’s you. After that, I, Maxido, take over Griffhala as its new ruler. Did you get all that? I know your tiny chicken brain doesn’t comprehend much,” he grinned slyly, hints of both rage and victory toned beneath it.
“You’ll never get away with this,” Griffax said, trying to cheat his way out.
Whhhiiiiit!
The king gripped at his neck furiously. His eyes bulged out from his head, beak gasping for air. Crimson rivers flooded between his claws, dripping lazily on the clean tiled floor. The king’s wings flexed and exploded from his sides, sporadically whipping about the air. His legs became unstable, oxygen no longer traveling to his muscles. Wobbling this way and that way, he tripped over himself and collapsed onto the layer of broken glass on the floor. His claws fought valiantly to stay upon his throat, but eventually succumbed to the loss of energy. Wings, mad as they were, fell silent. The crimson river now flowed from several faucets, all culminating in a lake on the floor.
As the last few gasping and chocking sounds died out with the king, Maxido raised his left claw to his beak. A long and savage tongue reached out feverishly to lick the talons. One by one, the sharp blades on his claws dragged across his tongue. Being so close to his revolution, yet never being able to touch it himself killed him inside, burned him with anxiety. The smells and sounds tempted him like a mistress of the night. Ever waiting, ever there, but still beyond his grasp. The taste was divine to Maxido, the taste was liberating.
“Um, Maxido. What do we do now?” questioned a guard.
“We finish painting this picture,” the crazed griffon said, matter-of-factly.
The griffon crew looked at each other with confused eyes. Shrugs and blinks all around. Finally, one of them spoke up for the group.
“What exactly does that mean?”
Maxido sighed. Of course his army was full of idiots. Could no one understand his genius?
“An intruder broke into the palace. He murdered the king, and now we must find him and capture him. Obviously this plot of his deserves a full frontal assault. Sadly, with the king’s untimely death, his second in command will have to take over.”
The griffon guards all nodded their heads, understanding and smiling. It really was a brilliant plan albeit wasn’t totally planned in itself, it still worked out well. Maxido instructed the guards to tell the story of the intruder to every single citizen in Griffhala. They would all find out sooner or later and that foolish boy would be found and dead. An acceptable loss in his conquest for power and redemption.
“Besides,” he said to himself, sitting proudly on the throne, “everyone will be up at arms when they hear a pony killed their king.”
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The rough mountainous winds rushed past the fleeing stallion as he maneuvered his way around canyons and valleys. The most he had discerned from his situation was that he was in Griffhala and now running from the king’s griffons. That was a fantastic thought, out from one kettle and into the next.
The stallion had just been thrown out of his element while waging war in his own country. Discord, the embodiment of chaos and pandemonium, was attempting a coup. The princesses were nowhere to be seen, and he along with the other subjects of Equestria, thought them to be dead. The Elements of Harmony, praised as they were for defeating Nightmare Moon, were equally missing. He and several others from the town had tried fighting back against the crazed spells of the dragonequis.
He had been fending off some giant rampaging rabbits when a huge swirling portal opened up and sucked him in. He had seen some of the others fall prey to the same trap, but he had no way of knowing where the portals would show up. All he had known was that he had to save the town. If nothing else, the stallion had to protect his little sister. She meant the world to him; she was the world to him.
They had been the best of friends when they grew up. He had helped raise her, heck, he raised her more than their parents did. They lived in a nice Cloudsdale home. It was huge, well furnished, resided in a nice neighborhood.
Growing up, he himself had excelled at flying. Anything with speed attracted him. It was almost like he had a magnet inside him that would draw him into every race or competition that existed. His parents loved him for it too. So young and showing so much potential, they thought he might even have a shot at the Wonderbolts.
Ten years later, they had his little sister. They had high hopes for her, thinking she would be just like her wonderful older brother. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. She had a hard time flying throughout her entire foal hood.
“Wow,” admitted the stallion.
He slowed his wings down to a light flap as he thought himself over. His mind was going off on tangents again and these particular thoughts were starting to bring him down, literally. Gently he stepped foot onto the soft dirt of the canyon below. Thoughts heavy, he walked over to one of the looming rock walls, each step sinking further into the ground beneath him. Reaching the edge after years of walking, the stallion sat down and fell to his side.
She was still a foal, his sister. It hadn’t been that long, no it hadn’t been long at all. That portal messed with his mind. He was just fighting against Discord’s magic, and now he was here. He had to get home. What if she was in danger? He had to…
“How do I get home?” He asked the empty sky.
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“The hell is this?” Spat a slightly intoxicated and heavily angered griffon.
She had just been handed a piece of paper from the bartender. It was brand new, freshly made in fact. The crunching of the paper reverberated around the empty bar as she crumpled it up and then opened it again. She read it aloud, her words halfway following her eyes.
“Stallion kills king in bloody one-pony-invasion attempt. Stallion is now on the loose, wanted dead or alive.”
She blinked twice before turning back to the bartender, “I sposd t’ care cause why?”
The bartender shook his head and went back to mixing drinks, “Read the last sentence ya drunk bum.”
“Bowntry is 50,000 gold bits.” The griffon’s glazed over eyes blinked again and again, not understanding the magnitude of what she had just read.
Two more blinks and then, “50,000 gold bits! I gotta, I gotta get me some in on this!”
Crumpling the paper up ever so neatly, the griffon stuffed the page into her feathery mane. Hastily, she took it upon herself to both stand up from and fall down on the barstool. Her beak clacked on the wooden stool before allowing her body to slump beneath the table itself.
The bartender wasn’t surprised, nor was he amused. With a well placed sigh, he rolled his dark red eyes and picked the poor drunken griffon up. He didn’t even bother using his wings to carry her to the back where we placed her sleeping body onto a cot. It wasn’t new for him, after all, this particular griffon bounty hunter got drunk nearly every time she stopped in.
Safely stored on the cot, the griffon slept soundly, snoring so loud the glasses shook. The bartender walked out of the room, still only on two legs, and turned off the light. The bar door shut behind him, but he knew the echoing thud would not be enough to wake her up. Returning to his place behind the table, the bartender finished mixing his drink.
“Ah Gilda, ya never disappoint. Hopefully this new change with get your mind offa that Rainbow Dash girl.”