The sun had just risen, marking the beginning of a new day upon the realm. The lord of the land was awake. He had not slept for years. His immeasurable power energized and sustained him; it would have been pointless for him to sleep, to enter a state of such vulnerability, needlessly inviting harm upon himself. Not that any being would have been able to stand its ground against his might. Nor would have any creature dared approach his cavern.
The lair was dug below the ground, but it was not hidden - a heavy rock formation, resembling the master of the nest, signaled what lay beneath. The giant, artificial ram skull was visible from many miles away. It was his will. The location was chosen by him: the middle of a collection of enormous swamp-fields. A fitting environment, mirroring the barrenness of his solitary soul.
Inside the tainted sanctuary, he would observe the happenings in his domain most of the time: the everyday struggle of ponykind - against the hardships of life, weather but above all: monsters.
Bestial abominations, living to spread misery and wretchedness.
Hideous hybrids, whose mere goal was to bear horror among this star-crossed people.
Sick and perverse mongrels, their predestination being to keep the population dreaded, never letting them know if they would survive the night, and live to see one more sunrise.
Vitiated and blended medleys, who were designed to amuse the one who was able to rejoice in their deeds.
His children...
The treacherous one's very conquest and rise to power had been carried out at the expense of these instruments of insolent and boundless abuse of magic. After he'd let the ones who fed on disharmony off their chains, and unleashed them on his required country, allowing them to run wild and untamed, he'd set out to have a taste in the luscious relish of Creation. He'd wished to transcend nature. And so he had done.
Having seen the most bloodthirsty brutes the land had offered, he'd averted his visage in genuine, deep, abhorrent disgust. This letdown had not gone unremembered. His previous belief had only been supported by the perceived betrayal - that nature was dysfunctional. It needed to be surpassed. Assembling the least unworthy creatures of the region - lions, tigers, snakes, serpents, bulls - as well as others, he twisted their forms, combined their bodies. Such creation was the manticore, the chimera, the cockatrice, the ophiotaurus and the bugbear.
For generations his marauders had scoured the lands, ravaged the dwellers' fields and crops; the inhabitants' reward for their tireless labor, and gone after living prey as well...
His children were to be proud of: heralds of his self-proclaimed eternal divinity, evangelizing the unquestioned reign of terror. However, at the moment he was creating something else. It was out of a somewhat filial curiosity. This time there weren't any components in play. From bare nothing, he wanted to make new life. A new race. He foresaw the rise of an unprecedented species. A whole army of them. Or rather, thousands of armies. In his mind's eye, he envisioned war. Not raids and skirmishes, like the ones carried out by the monsters. The warriors would wage war, and then he would see what the ponies were made of.
Oh, the pitiable! The complete and pure disdain, the sheer and utter contempt he felt for the beings that had come to be his fearful subjects on the earth burned from his soul like an unrestrained inferno. Three tribes, all underdeveloped, who knew nothing of the world, but lived in the most magical terrain he'd seen... and they were farmers, mastering pastures and meadows.
The only noticeable achievement was of the Pegasi, who'd managed to build a city in the clouds. Obviously, intent on evading the monsters. A fool's errand. This laughable endeavor did not hold the airborne beasts back.
It weren't the Pegasi he'd thought were destined for greatness, though. The unicorns possessed a natural connection to magic, that was present in every one of them. They were just like what his people had been. Only, he'd had to realize they would never be able to be as powerful as his people. They were at the beginning of it all, they'd just started to comprehend what magic was, compared to his vast knowledge of sorcery. After all, what did they do with their magic? Cast spells to... grow corn? What a waste! The unicorns he loathed deeply, for their squandering of their potential. He'd thought of provoking them. Making them grow. To see if they'd adapt.
The ponies he despised even more were the earth ponies. As their name suggested, they were ponies bound to the earth. No special talents whatsoever. The unicorns had their magic - however slack - the Pegasi had their wings and the ability to control the weather. The earth ponies were the freaks of nature, a disgrace and an insult to the order of things. The inferiors were still backward. The unicorns lived in castles, with wide acres attached to them; most Pegasi lived in Cloudsdale, with some still living on the ground, taking care of their source of food. There was nothing in the sky they could eat, after all. And the detestable earth ponies had stuck to living in villages, in dispersion, to that day. The magic of the land pervaded them too though, and gave them the "talent" of immense physical strength. Still, the strength of the flesh was insignificant, compared to magic.
There were earth ponies in the frozen north, whose coats were shiny, like crystals. They lived in igloos. Grogar didn't need to do much to set them back. They occasionally froze to death in their own homes.
The ponies, therefore, were not mighty, as one would have expected. But conflict sharpens tenacity. True conflict. In time, ponies had proven to be able to effectively defend themselves from his creations. What if they were to face a bigger challenge? Would they excel in battle? It was impossible to say. And that was why Grogar experimented. To create the craziest of conditions, and see how the participants would react and fare.
The egg was ready. It cracked a few times, then came loose. The creation that crawled out of it was a larva. She opened her compound eyes and looked at her maker. Her forehead had a horn on it, and her black head, that varied from her white body, was roughly pony-like. All in accordance with his design.
Grogar smiled, "Welcome, little one."