//------------------------------//
// 168 - Hail to the Chief 
// Story: An Extended Holiday 
// by Commander_Pensword 
//------------------------------//

Extended Holiday
Chapter 168: Hail to the Chief




Over the last several months, the reports had been coming in the same. At night, mysterious Ponies had been sighted at the far border of Unity’s lands. At first, they’d just been observing, but recently things had escalated. There’d been a few attacks on the hunting and foraging parties. No one had been hurt yet, but two Gryphons were injured after a more recent run-in. If things were allowed to continue in this manner, they would end badly.

But the figures hiding in the bushes weren’t considering any of this as they waited. Slitted eyes glowed as they scanned the area, waiting to see if the way was clear to hunt. 

When everything seemed safe, they moved. They didn’t get more than a couple of steps before a bright light cut through the darkness. Most managed to look away in time, but one was blinded by the light and collapsed from the pain while the others fled.

“Well, one’s good enough,” Hammer Strike commented as he locked the Thestral in place thaumically. “I didn’t anticipate Thestrals to be this brave in this territory.”

The Thestral currently blinded and in pain didn’t fully realize she was restrained, and attempted to rub its eyes.

“Repeatedly blink. Rubbing won’t help them right now,” Hammer Strike noted as he drew near.

The Thestral began to do so, moaning in pain as she did.

“Sorry to have to go through such drastic measures, but I wasn’t left much of a choice.” He sat down near the intruder. “I’ve got some questions for you. Answer them truthfully, and I can let you go practically within the hour. Sound like a fine deal?”

“Fine,” the thestral said. “Ask your questions, Pony.”

“What’s your reason for attacking those gathering and hunting near here? I understand you all need to hunt as well, but not your reasoning for this level of conflict.”

“You Ponies came to our lands. This was our hunting ground.”

“So, your tribes are nearby, then.” Hammer Strike hummed.

“Some tribes hunt here. Some hunt elsewhere.”

“Then perhaps we can talk things over, trade, or something along those lines,” Hammer Strike thought aloud.

“Perhaps,” the Thestral said noncommittally.

“I would assume trade is better than killing anyone who comes here, yes?”

“Not my choice.”

“Where’s the tribe’s primary cave located? I can’t exactly go talk to them without a location.”

“I can’t tell you.”

Hammer Strike sighed. “Then where can I find them individually?”
 
“... I can take you,” the prisoner offered.

Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll need to prepare myself, if that’s the case.” he noted. “Which means, you’ll be contained until then. Of course, you’ll still get food and such.”

The Thestral glared at him but chose to say nothing.

“Think of me as you will. But despite all the hostility caused, I’ll still treat you like an average captive.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Hurricane, prep for transport.”

The Thestral remained silent the entire time she was packed up for transport.

“I’ve got to get to work. Place her in containment and have a watch set for her.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll be as quick as I can, so I leave her in your hooves, Hurricane.”

Hurricane offered a short salute and they parted ways.





Hammer Strike sighed in frustration as he looked to his current creation. In preparation for dealing with the Thestrals, he’d used what knowledge he had to at least make himself more appealing than the appearance of some noble.

He knew they were warrior-like in these times, so some armor would definitely be useful, though nothing crazy. And a good silver weapon to symbolize the moon and the purity necessary to battle creatures of the night. That would suffice. The silver weapon, however, was the greatest pain of a project he had ever worked on, barring perhaps the Ursa armor for Luna. But this definitely came in at a close second.

Sure, he could have used some other materials, but silver had an innate difference in terms of appearance and ability. He didn’t have access to a form of ebony. And even then, he was unsure on what other metals would work for it.

He needed to go through such an amount of preparation just due to the fact that he had to make a good impression, or things would go south with the entirety of the Thestral nation. It didn’t help that he learned that they apparently settled near the area first, meaning they already held some amount of ill will toward him and the settlement for choosing to build there.

The Diamond Dogs had held up to their arrangement, giving Hammer Strike plenty of ore to work with. Materials definitely weren’t the issue.

The real problem lay in the purity of the silver. Every little interaction he made with the blade would alter it. The end result was roughly an eighty-five percent purity, which, while good and all, didn’t feel right to him.

He sighed to himself once more before settling on it. He’d already spent nearly a week and a half on the project, and his captive was clearly annoyed by the fact. He sheathed the blade and took hold of his equipment.

Upon reaching the main floor of his house, he noted Celestia and Luna off to the side, conversing about dinner from what he could tell. “Girls, it’s time for me to make that trip.”

“How long will you be gone?” Luna asked.

“Honestly, I’m unsure.” Hammer Strike frowned. “A month at most.”

“And you want us to keep house in the meantime, I assume?” Celestia asked.

“More than that this time. Should questions or requests come through, I’d like you to assist in looking into it. If need be, Clover, Binding, and even Hurricane can help.”

Celestia nodded. “We can do that.”

“Be safe, Daddy.” Luna wrapped her forelegs around him in a hug.

Hammer Strike hugged Luna and Celestia as well before exiting the house and making his way to the local containment rooms. They weren’t jail cells just yet, but it was progress.

“It’s time?” Hurricane asked as he approached.

Hammer Strike simply nodded in return.

Hurricane nodded and retrieved the prisoner. The Thestral had been placed in wing wing binders to avoid any attempts to fly away. She glared flatly at Hammer Strike as she stepped into the light of day.

“Pleasant accommodations?” Hammer Strike asked.

She said nothing.

Hammer Strike shrugged. “The sooner we arrive at our destination, the quicker this will be dealt with.” He hummed. “We’ll remove the binds when I know you won’t run, or when we arrive. Whichever comes first.”

“This will take several days’ travel on hoof.”

“That’s perfectly fine. Lead the way when you’re ready.”

“Very well, Pony. I hope you’re ready. Me being your prisoner won’t guarantee safety.”

Hammer Strike shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”





As predicted, it was several days later when the pair finally saw signs of a village. They’d been followed since the fourth day out. He’d known that almost instantly, but so far, their followers had kept their distance. As a precaution, Hammer Strike had not let himself sleep during the journey.

Now, however, as he saw the beginnings of wooden longhouses in the distance, their followers didn’t bother to hide themselves. Of course, they were thestrals, seven to be exact. A fair mixture of mares and stallions that wore no armor but were armed with bows and spears. They all carried a somewhat familiar-looking throwing axe that Hammer Strike guessed to be the prototype for the tomahawk that all Thestrals carried in the present.

They all had bits of their manes missing, which Hammer Strike’ implants informed him had been plucked out purposefully. Each wore at least a small amount of deerskin on their flanks. Their hooves were wrapped in what resembled moccasins, and mare and stallion alike had shell necklaces and earrings.

More adults became visible as they got closer. Children were rounded up and hidden away. By the time Hammer Strike found himself close to the village, he was the center of a sea of slitted eyes that were all fixed on him.

Before they entered the village proper, they were stopped and his guide shared several rapid conversations in a language that Hammer Strike’s implant seemed to be unaware of. One of the Thestrals pointed a spear to Hammer Strike’s weapons.

“They want you to disarm. You’ll get your things back when you leave.”

Hammer Strike shrugged simply and removed the greatsword off his back before stabbing it into the ground. Afterward, he took Ulkrusher off his back and placed it to his right with a heavy thud.

Once they’d confirmed he had discarded his weapons, the Thestrals nodded and signalled them inwards.

The village consisted of a series of longhouses, each of varying lengths and heights. Smoke curled up from some while others remained dark, either unoccupied or with sleeping residents. Bark had been pasted together in interwoven layers against the spines of carved wooden supports bent and tied together in ribbed arches. Gardens flourished with corn, beans, and squashes of varying sizes and types, and the distinct smell of smoked fish permeated the air, most likely from attempts at preservation via a smokehouse. Sheets of hide were stretched tightly on a tanning rack to dry in the open air and sun. What few Ponies Hammer Strike could see kept their distance as he and his escort passed through the small community. Given the fact he was a complete stranger, it was only natural.

The Chieftain’s home was located by a massive fire pit that had been dug into the earth and ringed with carefully placed stones to prevent stray embers from igniting their structures. Much like the other dwellings, it was simple, built next to the largest structure, which functioned as the great lodge for the elders to meet and the tribe to gather for meetings in the winter. The interior of the structure was well furnished with furs and hide to guard against the cold and provide certain aesthetic appeal. Crude benches and stools were scattered through the structure, awaiting a guest to sit on them.

At first, it looked almost as though they had walked in on a dire wolf. The gray fur draped over the chief’s form to insulate against what chill remained in the air. Two wings stretched wide as the figure rose from the floor. A bowl of herbs burned slowly to fill the room with a calming scent. A hoof reached up to pull the wolf’s head back and reveal a long gray mane with streaks of faded black and silver that fell back in brittle waves. Her eyes were wild and piercing as she turned to take in the newcomer. The familiar gold iris was rimmed by a halo of blue that bespoke wisdom and unwavering strength in equal measure. The fur on her neck and chest was the midnight-blue much of her kind seemed to carry as a trait.

The mare looked first to Hammer Strike, then to his guide. Her voice was soft, almost musical as she spoke with the former captive. Hammer Strike listened patiently as his implants’ translation algorithm went to work, and soon he began to understand.

“I was captured during the hunt. He demanded I bring him here in return for my freedom,” his captive admitted.

The chieftess’ eyes narrowed. “Is that so? That is unusually careless of you, Russet.”

“He used strange magic. He made the sun appear at night,” she explained. “I was not prepared for the pain.”

“I do not see a horn on this one. Their connection is with the land, not unlike our own. If what you say is true, how could he have accomplished what takes many of the horned ones to fulfill each day?”

“I do not know,” she answered. “What little I saw of his village had many of the horned ones and winged ones as well as the land ones coming to him as their chieftain. It was strange.”

“Were you harmed?”

“Not after that flash of light, but I was detained, and my wings have been bound.”

“Well, he has met me. The agreement is fulfilled. Ask him what he wants with me, and carry my request he free your wings.”

She turned to Hammer Strike and spoke in Equish. “She wishes to know what you want with her, and requests you free my wings now as agreed.”

Hammer Strike simply tapped his hoof against her restraints and they snapped off. The task had been performed thaumically, but the end result made it seem like a simple binding being undone to an outsider. “I simply want to make a deal. No more conflict, and an exchange of resources.”

His guide stretched her wings as she relayed his words.

“The wolf only attacks another when it is threatened. Why would my tribe seek to harm yours, unless they strayed too far into our territory?” the chieftess asked.

“Without me knowing, I have lived on and established myself in a section of land far away from the three nations currently at each other’s throats. During my work and stay, there were no Thestrals within the lands for many years. Only recently did you start showing up. I don’t place blame on your end, but I feel we need to come to some arrangement to have things settled, whether it be through a trade of food for resources or otherwise.”

“And where is this ‘section of land’ you speak of?”

“Southwest of here, roughly a three-to-four-day trip by hoof.”

“The horned ones have been known to exploit and expand beyond their bounds for no reason, save to satisfy their own greed. What guarantee can you give me that the same will not occur with those who dwell with you?”

“Because each of them willingly accepted a contract binding them to it,” he explained. “Should the contract be broken, they will be dealt with. Harshly.”

“By one alone?” she asked skeptically.

“If need be, yes.” He leveled his gaze. “I’ve killed Minotaurs, Gryphons, even Dragons. No matter what stands in my way, it will be dealt with. Directly.”

The two maintained a steady gaze one with another as the chieftess considered his words. Finally, she nodded. “Your eyes are those of a leader. An alpha knows how to recognize one of a similar rank, albeit from a different pack. If you can ensure this contract is maintained, then I am at least willing to allow you the chance to know us.”

“I appreciate the chance. I take it I will need to converse with the others individually to get this dealt with?”

“If you mean the rest of my tribe, a council meeting will ensure they know.”

“And as an outsider, I am unable to step hoof there, correct?”

“It is better that you not be present, yes. While it is true that this agreement has potential to grow, it will require time to know and trust you and yours first.”

He sighed. “I should be able to camp out some distance from here for the amount of time needed.”

“You need not remain, if that is not your wish. As it is with you and yours, so it is with mine. My word is law for so long as it remains just and I overcome those who would usurp my place in the pack. They will listen.”

“Whatever works best.”





Hammer Strike had camped in the woods for roughly two weeks before finally catching wind of the Wolf Chieftess’ position. She was en route back from their clan meeting, and he was finally due to get the results of that meeting.

Within the next hour, she arrived at the camp with company in tow. Some, he could recognize as those within the tribe. But the others held a different air. They bore respective furs from different alignments, revealing to him that they were either part of or the leaders of two of the other tribes.

The first was a larger stallion. He was draped in a garment almost like a cape made of a patchwork of animal skins and lined with thick fur. His mane had been grown out to resemble a lion’s, and his especially sharp fangs were capped with ivory tips.

The other was a mare wearing nothing except a single saddlebag. Opposite it on the harness was a single wooden round shield. A spear was strapped to her back. Her body was a criss cross of various scars from numerous battles.

“I get the feeling this isn’t going to be a pleasant meeting,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.

A different mare than his previous guide approached sternly. “The chieftains have decided that you should move your borders away from the Wolf Tribe’s territory.”

“By how much?” he questioned simply.

“Fifteen miles.” 

“Not possible,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “We have too many individuals for a space that confined.”

“Then the situation cannot be reconciled.”

“There are multiple ways that it can be, including a trade of food and resources.”

“You built into our territory. You and yours have done so for years now. No more.”

“I built into those lands well over twenty years ago, and with no sign of a Thestral in miles. Where were you then?”

“Hunting grounds must be rotated to maintain the prey in each. The Wolf had moved to another hunting ground when you arrived.”

“Then we’re at an impasse. I can’t move. Instead, I can only make offers, including food, since the hunting grounds are currently disrupted.”

“Go make your offers to the bear.” The translator mirrored the scoff the stallion gave when he said this. “You have our answer.”

“Bear … Tribe?”

“The great bear! The walking and fallen god!” all the thestrals seemed to take offense to his suggestion.

“Fine, then. Where?”

“Leave.” It wasn’t a request.

Hammer Strike shook his head. “And I figured your tribe to be brave,” he commented simply as he gathered his supplies before calling Ulkrusher to his hoof and placing it on his back. “I offer assistance, and you respond like this.”

Hammer Strike ignored any further comment from the others before leaving them behind. It was foolish, and at this rate, it would take him plenty of work to establish some stability between the Thestrals and Unity.

As the village was nearly gone from sight behind him, a few small pebbles hit his shoulder from beside the path. A hoof signalled him to follow.

He sighed and started to follow, figuring he had nothing to lose.

He was led through the forest until he came to a cliff wall. An arrow was left on the ground pointing inwards. He continued to follow the trail.

Once he was decently inside the cave, something was thrown in front of the entrance enshrouding it. Nearby, a smaller Thestral mare revealed herself. She wore a shaggy leather outfit with beads and small glass vials tied to it. Her eyes burned a deep green, and a blow pipe lay in a leather sheath at her side.

“Proud, the Manticore and the Lion. Always proud. Sometime proud do them harm,” she said, eyeing him curiously. “You are strange Pony,” she remarked as she motioned toward his glowing eyes.

“Not the first time I’ve heard such things,” Hammer strike replied. “You have my attention.”

“How you know about Bear Tribe?” she asked. “Most Pony not tell Thestral apart, nevermind tribe,” she continued in her broken Equish.

“These eyes see more than most.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “To put it simply,” he smiled to reveal his canines, “I’m quite familiar with the system.”

“Yes, Asp sees. Very well. Asp will help strange Pony.” She smiled. “Asp will tell you what to do.”

Hammer Strike raised a brow and hummed questioningly.

Asp removed her blowpipe from its sheath and used it to poke seven holes into the ground in a circular fashion. “You know seven tribes. Manticore, Lion, and Wolf in alliance. Once three decide something, one single member cannot change decision.” She linked three of the dots. “Other chiefs not involved. Not their business. Chiefs only come together if there is trouble all chiefs must agree on.” She looked up to see if he was following.

“So, I have to get them all to agree.”

“Trouble come up, chiefs have to meet in first cave to decide together how to handle. Trouble needs to involve all tribes. Now your trouble only involves three tribes.” She began linking other dots together. “You go to other tribes, involve them, eventually involve all tribes. You become issue. They meet at cave, and you go to make them listen. All chiefs decide Pony deal good, Lion, Wolf, and Manticore cannot argue.”

“So, I’ll need something to sweeten the deal.” Hammer Strike sighed in aggravation.

“Most Thestral used to worship moon. Now many Thestral worship walking fallen god,” she said almost sadly. “Walking fallen god bad for Thestral. Large big bear covered in stars. Mostly sleep. But when wake, take many Thestral for prey. Kill bear, you scare Thestral.”

Hammer Strike sighed. “An ursa. How large are we talking?”

“Big big. Biggest star bear,” she said, holding her hooves up as though it would be helpful.

“An ursa major, then. Delightful.” He sighed again. “Possible, but I’ll need to prepare myself.”

“Pony good. Pony keep other Pony from destroying Thestrals. Thestral strong now, but Pony have more magic and shiny weapon. Thestral strength no matter long. Pony keep Thestral safe?”

“As safe as I can make it.”

“Pony have,” her lips contorted as she struggled to form the word, “char-coal?” She waved her blowpipe like a pen. “Flimsy stick thing Ponies use? For,” she hesitated. “Draw … ing?”

Hammer Strike produced the requested item and a piece of parchment.

Asp took them instantly and began scrawling over the page. After several minutes, Hammer Strike realized the mare was sketching a map, a surprisingly detailed one at that. There were no notes or names, just arrows and vague markers to indicate where they led, but it was legible enough to follow.

Asp shoved the parchment and the remaining charcoal back into Hammer Strike’s hooves. “Take. Will lead you to other tribes. Will lead you to star bear.”

Hammer Strike nodded. “I appreciate it.”

“Good luck, Pony. Moonlight protect you.”

Hammer Strike found himself unable to resist blinking, despite his augmented eyes. When he did, the little Thestral was gone. No hoofprints remained. Only the drawing she’d made in the ground and the map in his hoof lent any credence she’d been there to begin with.

He frowned and scanned the area thaumically. There was a space where no aspect resided before quickly being filled by aer. It wasn’t a teleportation of some kind. And it wasn’t a quick relocation either. It was simply a case of nonexistence.

After a moment, he sighed. “So, the game of chess is getting too boring for you up there, is it?” he muttered.





Hammer Strike set off from that point, dedicating his time to reaching each destination as quickly as possible. At each location, he would reach into his pouches and pull out a small metal spike before embedding it into the ground. He didn’t have too much time to linger, and would need a faster mode of transportation for when he returned.

The first tribe he located was the Dragon Tribe. They were proud, but also fierce, with a bloodthirst that shocked Hammer Strike. Their territory included bits of the far coast. As such, many carried shark-toothed swords aside from the throwing axe. They danced war dances and fought each other constantly.

When he’d found them, they didn’t even consider him a threat until he, on a hunch, challenged a warrior to a fight. The leader, a large stallion, watched impassively up until Hammer Strike stood over his fallen enemy, making it quite clear he would rip the stallion’s still-beating heart from his chest if it would get him his audience. The Dragon Tribe leader heard him out. Surprisingly, the leader even nodded to the Pony’s objections and spat at the Manticore and Lion leaders’ pride. But he would not involve himself, and considered the issue unworthy of his tribe. Hammer Strike simply remarked it as their loss before leaving.

The Viper tribe traded with many local towns in their area for things they considered luxury goods. Wine, spices, certain types of fruit. The chieftess remarked how, had it been her, she’d happily have parlayed with him. But again, it was not her land, so it was not her business. However, she did promise to send a messenger to the Wolf to better explain this new thing called trade. Hammer Strike nodded and thanked her for her time.

The Fox Tribe was an odd experience for Hammer Strike by comparison. Like all Thestrals, they were a warrior tribe. However, years of war and peace between the buffalos to their south had given them a broader view on how to work with others. He was welcomed into their village and sat before their chieftess, a pretty young mare with a surprising fiery red mane, a rarity amongst thestrals the tribe prized heavily. She heard him out and sympathized with his story. She admitted and cursed her own impotence to do anything yet, but greatly encouraged his plan, pledging her support when the chieftains finally met. She had family in the Wolf Tribe, and would attempt to soften the three leaders in the meantime. Hammer Strike appreciated her pledge.

The Bear had neither been particularly inviting nor hostile when he’d shown up. As he entered the village, he could see why as he noted several stallions and mares from different tribes living actively in the village with Thestral spouses. Hybrid foals played happily beside purebred Thestrals in the streets. The Bear didn’t think him worth noting because they had become accustomed to other Ponies and accepted them heartily.

Their chieftess was an old mare so ancient and tiny that she practically swam in her robes of bear fur as she gave attention to each of her grandfoals, referring to them as her cubs in turn. She found the other Thestrals' reactions to be very foolish, indeed. Peace had ended the recent winter that had hurt so many, and peace, she had stated, was the way forward. She offered Hammer Strike tea and spoke kindly to him about the issue in great depth. She would most vehemently support him in the coming meeting, and informed him she had already been called to the meeting in question. She explained such a meeting could only happen on the full moon, and their current moon had already started to wane. He had about a month to prepare himself.

In the meantime, the elderly mare promised she would do all she could, and offered him to attend as her guest, and thus be under her protection.

“It will certainly prove useful,” he commented. “I need time to prepare myself, so I must be off as soon as I can.”

She hissed at an attendant nearby, who brought her something wrapped in leather, which she passed. “Until the meeting, this will keep you safe. It is a sacred thing in our race, and the bearer is to be known as a friend and owed respect.” She offered it to him. Inside was a simple piece of obsidian shaped roughly like a shield. A bear had been carved on its face for all to see.

“Thank you.” Hammer Strike gave a nod. “Until next time.”

“Moonlight keep you and protect you.” She nodded her head, and he departed.





Hammer Strike wasted no time in returning home, using a thaumic rift as soon as he was out of sight. Once he drew near the gates, they opened, and Hurricane greeted him. Hammer Strike gave him a brief reply and set off for home, then hastened to the workshop, only to find Luna working away on her own project. She was so focused on the work that she didn’t notice him enter and start putting his equipment away.

Content to leave her to her devices, Hammer Strike began compiling a list of equipment that he would need for the fight with the Ursa in his head.

Ulkrusher was a definite. And a greatsword or two, depending on how rough the hide would be. Spears for a longer reach. And perhaps a halberd. Javelins would help to cover his ranged options, since he wouldn’t be quick enough to use a bow. If it were an ursa minor, he could potentially silence the creature quickly and choke it out if he had something to wrap around it’s throat. A chain, perhaps. Should it prove useful, the magitech pistol would likely work as well. The folding blade was clearly too small to deal with a threat on that scale, but could prove useful in a pinch.

He continued sorting through his equipment and listing what he would need when Luna finally took note of him in the workshop.

“You’re home!” Luna smiled, but managed not to try and hug him this time, considering the crafting tables that lay between them and the oil on her smock.

“Am I? I thought I was still out conversing with the Thestrals,” Hammer Strike replied jokingly as he continued to run the computations in the background of his thoughts.

“You found a solution?”

“Correct.” He sighed. “And in turn, I have to deal with an ursa to get their attention.”

“An ursa major?” Luna asked.

“Major or mInor. Unsure at the moment, since the only response I got was ‘big.’” He shrugged.

“Make sure you bring lances,” she noted.

“Yeah, a lance would be good.” He hummed. “Perhaps a barbed weapon for grip. Throwaway weapons, of course, used to just get some mobility on it.”

“What about those spears you worked on? You know, the ones that explode?”

He shook his head. “Good for smaller targets. I doubt it’ll work well on a large scale creature unless I amp up the charge.”

“Fair enough. I’m afraid I’m not sure what else I could suggest. You know better than me, anyway.”

“It’s difficult to tell what I’ll need for a beast of this scale.” Hammer Strike frowned.

“Be careful in this fight. From what we saw in the tablets’ bestiaries, ursas are … mysterious.”

“Of course.” Hammer Strike nodded. “But I’ve seen what they’re capable of, and I know just the right amount of force needed to break those bones…”

This time, Luna gave into the impulse, though she had enough presence of thought to walk around the table before she wrapped her hooves around him.

Hammer Strike returned the hug with a small smile.

“I’ll get back to it and let you return to your preparation.” The mare released him and moved to her workbench.

Hammer Strike nodded and continued his tally.

It took two weeks for him to gather the materials to create all the weapons he needed. And finally, he had to establish a weapon storage system that allowed him to summon weapons to him, rather than carrying them all on his person.

After locking Thaumically onto each weapon, he was able to establish a technique that opened a small rift to pull weapons to his position from anywhere. It took several days to establish a perfected link to each weapon, but he managed.

His armor was another matter. He needed something perfectly balanced in terms of mobility and protection. The end result was a plate armor style with condensed plates, though slightly smaller in scale.

Weeks of work led up to this moment. He was as prepared as he could be. Ulkrusher was on his back as he bid everyone farewell once again and set off towards the Ursa cave.

It was time to show the Thestrals just how “big” a threat he could be.





Hammer Strike stood before a large mountain. It reminded him of the landmass Canterlot stood on in the future, though it was clearly too far in a different direction. Before him was a large opening. Shadows covered the walls and hid the area deeper within. He pressed on, ignoring the warning written into the cave walls, some in Thestral, others in Equestrian. He was pretty sure he even noticed one in Gryphic.

As he progressed, the cave didn’t diminish in size. Instead, it appeared to be growing in scale as he descended into the vast galleys and structures. Air moved to and fro through the cavern as the large beast within breathed. Based off the size of the cave and movement of air, he assumed it was an ursa major. It wasn’t until he finally watched a mass in the distance move that he realized his target lay before him.

Pebbles and dust had settled over it, which explained why he hadn’t realized what he’d seen yet. But looking now, he could just make out the swirls of several galaxies inside a field of black with points of light spaced out everywhere. Having worked with ursa fur before, he knew that the pelt of an ursa major generally had an accurate map of the galaxy in its fur. But this was different. If each spiral really was a galaxy, then the beast in front of him could very well have a map of the universe etched on its hide.

Given the strange movement of air, it was clear the beast was sleeping, which gave Hammer Strike a chance to take in it’s positively massive size. The beast was at the very least twice, if not thrice, the size of the largest ursa major recorded in the present. It’s fur held a few tiny markings of past injuries, but nothing that seemed to be more than a pinprick compared to its bulk. Around it’s sleeping form, bones and remains of Ponies, Gryphons, and even a Minotaur lay scattered about. Various items, weapons, uncut gemstones, and nuggets of gold and silver had been spread out, possibly as tribute given by the Thestrals themselves.

“I should have made longer chains,” Hammer Strike muttered in awe.

The beast was asleep, and perhaps there was a way to take advantage of that. He began to consider the new situation. With the beast on its chest, he could spear the heart before it woke. He also might be able to break the neck on a lucky hit with Ulkrusher, but a lucky shot wasn’t a sure thing. He was just considering the possibility of severing a limb to give himself an advantage when he realized the steady breathing had stopped.

“Oh, s—”

A prodigious amount of force slammed into his side. A moment later, he cracked the wall of the cave with his body. His entire right side throbbed with pain, and he could taste blood in his mouth.

“Oh, you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?”

The ursa roared in response and swiped at him again. This time, he managed to dodge just in time. He summoned one of his spears and stabbed at the paw. The beast withdrew the appendage momentarily and roared loud enough to shake the whole cavern.

Retrieving a second spear, Hammer Strike thrust up as the beast brought it’s paw down and drove the entire spear head into the pad before the haft broke. He slashing with the second spear to cut at the paw, leaving an angry red line that seemed more like a papercut than a proper wound. Another stab attempt left his spear without a head as the ursa swiped it off. The creature swept again with its paw, nearly hitting the Pony head-on, only to miss narrowly. 

Clearly, the beast had the advantage like this. Hammer Strike needed more mobility than he could manage as an Earth Pony. And having given some of the Alicorn artifacts away, he no longer had the wings that had proven so useful to him in his retreat from the island. The residual energy was still present from the artifacts, however, meaning they had some imprint of that form that was still with them.

He forced energy into the artifacts with his thaumaturgy in an attempt to have them falsely apply the same ascension, albeit temporarily. Thaumic fire licked off his coat before coalescing into a translucent pair of wings on his back. They weren’t fully physical, but he could feel them actively keeping their form, pushing the air away from them.

It would work for the time being, but it was a constant drain on his energy.

He got into the air a moment before another paw swiped the area he’d been on. His movements were slow and clumsy, but he managed to keep himself in the air for short periods with his limited experience, which gave him the opportunity to climb the beast’s legs and land several hits while breaking many more spears. He left two halberd heads with the axeblade buried deep into its shoulder before it finally managed to swat him again. This time, his whole body flared with pain on impact, and he felt the thaumic field working to slowly reset his ribs. 

But battle wouldn’t wait for him to heal, and the ursa wouldn’t be giving him any breaks. He ignored the pain and took to the air again. He managed to get on its back and anchored himself with a lance. The piercing weapon caused significantly more damage with its embedding, and he began slashing at the creature’s back with a greatsword in his free hoof. The beast's thick hide, however, made short work of even Hammer Strike’s smithing, and soon the great sword was dulled. Hammerstrike tossed it away just as the beast attempted to rear up. Hammer Strike buried a great axe into its body and used it with the lance to anchor himself before sinking a second great axe in farther up the creature’s back. Then, like a rock climber ascending a wall of flesh, he used the two axes in tandem to climb the mountain that was the beast's back.

When the axe blades dulled and broke, he switched to pikes. When those broke, he used the last of his spears until he finally reached the beast’s neck, dodging swipes and neutralizing the effects of momentum the creature sought to use against him along the way.

It was clear to the Pony that he wouldn’t win a battle of attrition. Even with thaumic power, the beast was too strong. He needed to end this quickly. This time, he summoned Ulkrusher and hefted the hammer above his head. He aimed for the base of the neck as he attempted to remain steady, then brought the hammer down with all the force he could muster. The beast roared in pain, but didn’t go down. Hammer Strike brought the hammer down again. The roars became louder, and the thrashing more violent.

Then hammerstrike brought the hammer down a third time, and a fourth. Just as he brought it down the fifth time, the beast swiped him with a paw, and he went flying, hitting the ground hard enough to leave a deep divot in the stone floor. He could only listen to the beast’s cries as the world swam into murky blackness, and he sank reluctantly into that place, his will still fighting, even as his body gave out.





Pensword was flabbergasted. “Did Hammerstrike teach Luna how to fight an Ursa Major without telling her?” he yelled while his wings fluttered in agitation. “And … that, that can’t be the first star beast. If it is, that means that....” He trailed off. “Why would we hide the truth? Our first great Leader was Hammer Strike? How much sway doth he wield upon the fields of time and sand?”

“This was several thousand years before the Third Gryphon War,” Grif pointed out. “History can change.”

“I know that truth. Some due to time, and some due to military secrets. But this.” He gesticulated toward the screen with a wing.  “We have oral traditions for a reason, and we carve the most important stories on the rocks. If this truly is thousands of years ago, then the truth should be carved somewhere within our first caves, caves we have lost in the present. I am definitely grilling Hammer Strike when we finally rescue him. He must have an inkling of our lost heritage by the end of this, and to keep it, warts and all, away from us would be a grave injustice.” He shook his head and sputtered in frustration. “Forgive me. I’m jumping to conclusions, and my stress is causing me to slip into the old tongue.”

“We all have had much to think about for this.” Grif chuckled. “We’ll be traveling all over Equestria when this is over.”

“And beyond, I should think,” Vital noted. “Looks like he’s basically going to build a global empire by the time this is all over, or at least a coalition of governments.”

“Or he would have, if, you know, Discord didn’t come by.” Grif shrugged.

“So … why did he do what he did? Discord, I mean. He literally destroyed everything back to the Cavelands,” Pensword said.

Grif sighed. “The world may never know.”

“I suppose we could always ask him when we get back,” Vital said.

“Yeah, good luck with that. Let me know how it goes,” Grif said as he rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the screen.





Hammer Strike gasped as he sat upright, only to groan as he placed a hoof on his chest. “That’s not pleasant,” he mumbled. Looking up, he noticed that the Ursa had definitely stopped moving. And that could mean only one thing. Either it was unconscious or he had actually managed to kill it. The lack of the familiar rumble and air pressure that had cycled through the cavern on the way in soon answered that question. He’d killed it, all right.

He’d actually managed to kill it.

He took a few minutes before attempting to shift himself upright. The world spun for a moment before it settled again, but he did it. He wiped at his jaw, only to feel blood congealed in his beard.

He’d deal with it later.

He ran a self-examination and noted that most of his external injuries had closed up. Surprisingly enough,  his internal ones were all right, too. There could only be one logical explanation. The thaumic field had once again saved his life while he was unconscious.

A medical diagnostic from his implants came back with a diagnosis of severe exhaustion and recommended immediate rest.

“Well, that wasn’t very pleasant,” he muttered to himself.

“Not pleasant? Buddy, if most people went through what you did, they’d be meeting their god face-to-face by now,” a somewhat familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Apparently, Slephnir likes me too much for a meeting this soon,” Hammer Strike remarked sarcastically.

“Well, credit where credit is due. it wasn’t the prettiest thing, but you did manage to kill a colossal Ursa,” a second voice chimed in. “Biggest one I think this land’s ever seen.”

Hammer Strike looked around for the source of the voices. It wasn’t until he noticed two gleaming dots farther in the cave near one of the walls that he realized it must have been from over there. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relieve some tension before investigating the voices properly.

As he drew near, he noted a familiar-looking blade carefully sat against the cave wall. It took him a few seconds to recognize Derflinger. The second thing he noticed was that the two golden glowing spots in the cave were actually the eyes of a decapitated Unicorn’s head.

Whoever it was, they’d had their horn broken off. The head had light brown fur with a darker brown beard and no mane, whatsoever. The only thing that was strange about the head was that the flesh wasn’t rotted, despite the neck wound looking closed up.

“I know. I look great for a talking head, don’t I?” the head suddenly spoke, and Hammer Strike had to hold in his reflex to strike it.

“You’re a talking head … and a talking sword.” While the head was new, he knew better than to tempt fate by revealing his knowledge of Deflinger openly.

“Correct,” the head responded. “The name’s Mimir, smartest stallion alive.”

“Call me Derflinger, partner,” the sword said. Hammer Strike noted that his translation augment did, indeed, convert the name to ‘Smartass.’

“I get the feeling you hoped I couldn’t translate it,” Hammer Strike commented as he took hold of Derflinger.

“Translate what?” the sword asked, playing ignorance.

“Nothing to worry about, Smartass.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I take it you two want out of here, then? I can’t see either of you being content to remain.”

“What gave that away?” Derflinger asked.

“The fact I removed your entertainment.”

“Just because you removed our entertainment doesn’t mean I want to go,” Mimir replied. “What could you offer?”

“Uh.…” He looked to the head. “A cushion that you can rest on instead of the cave floor?”

“Sold!” Mimir replied instantly.

“Just like that?”

“Lad, I’ve been sat in this cave for such a long time, I actively don’t recall how I got here.” Mimir sighed. “You could have offered me fresh air and I would have accepted. I just wanted to give you a hard time.”

“Fair enough,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked around himself. He didn’t have any straps or anything to help him out with the two of them, and he already had to establish a method of moving the ursa. After searching through the offerings and the remains of corpses, he found several straps from old equipment and thaumically created a new length for him to work with from it.

He made a small sling to work with Derflinger’s sheath, and a small strap off the side to fasten around Mimir’s head and hold it to his side or back. After fastening the two to him, he looked to the Ursa once again. “Now to work on this thing.”

“You’re probably going to have to work bit by bit if you don’t have an army sitting outside,” Mimir commented.

“That’s one method, yeah.” He frowned at it. It would take weeks to clear this thing out, and he was easily a week out from home. Sure, he took a shortcut to get here, but….

He stopped and thought things over. His thaumic field had recovered decently after the combat, meaning he’d been out for some time. He had marked some of the empty fields near his territory for teleportation if he needed to get there quickly. If he could at least move most of the corpse, it should be fine.

After thinking over the properties of the gate he’d need to open, he collected a few small objects and offerings for himself before stepping in front of the beast once more. He took a breath and focused on his markers to open a gate. He growled to himself as he forced the portal to expand as large as he could. Once the passage had been established and properly anchored, flames licked off his coat before strands spread out and began to encompass the ursa.

“You can’t be serious, lad,” Mimir commented. “You plan on pulling the whole thing?”

“Correct.” Hammer Strike grunted as the straps finished forming. He shifted on his hooves briefly and was answered with the slow but subtle grating of the Ursa’s body.

He could move it.

He growled to himself as he dragged the behemoth inch by inch toward the gate. It took every ounce of his strength to get the beast moving, but eventually he passed through to the other side, revealing a familiar bright landscape before him. He was just south of his border.

“By Sleipnir’s beard,” Mimir spoke in awe.

Hammer Strike ignored him as he continued to pull, and soon after the Ursa began to come through. It took roughly ten minutes of pulling before it finally fully cleared the gateway. The portal snapped shut immediately afterward with a loud crack as Hammer Strike dropped to his knees. He took heavy breaths as he tried to stabilize himself before standing once again and pulling the carcase toward his settlement.

“Father!” Luna landed on the ground nearby. “What in Faust’s name were you doing?”

“Teleporting a corpse,” Hammer Strike replied in between breaths.

“Why didn’t you just cut it apart and transport the pieces?” Luna asked exasperated.

“Same energy cost,” he replied simply. “It would have been the same result either way.”

Clover appeared moments later in a flash of light. “You killed a star bear?”

“Ursa, yeah.” Hammer Strike let the thaumic straps vanish. “Not quite a minor or major. I have no idea what this one is,” he said as he slowly stabilized his breathing.

“What in Faust’s name is going on here?” Celestia asked as she glided down next to the behemoth and her father. “Why did you bring home such a large kill? And more importantly, why are you carrying a severed head?”

“It’s Mimir,” Hammer Strike gestured toward the head. “As for the ursa, it’s because I’ve still got plenty of work to put in to deal with the Thestrals. Killing their god seemed like a good start.”

“You what?”

“He said he killed their god,” Mimir repeated. “Not really a god in the first place, but certainly powerful. Oh, you should have seen it.…”

Naturally, this resulted in a round of screaming and one, “Ooh, ooh, say something else!” from Luna.

“Something else,” Mimir commented simply.

“Why did that dead thing talk? Dead things aren’t supposed to talk!” Celestia said frantically.

“It’s uncommon,” Clover said, “but not unheard of. Although severed talking heads tend to be evil.”

“Lass, I’ve got a broken horn, am completely incapable of using magic, and am currently stuck to this one’s side,” Mimir commented. “You really think I can do much about that?”

“That's fair, I suppose,” Clover said.

“Clover, do me a favor. Get Momonga, gather some hunters and whoever else, and clean up this corpse,” Hammer Strike commented. “Because I’m going to be honest with you. For the first time in literal years, I’m tired.”

Clover nodded before teleporting away.

“Now.” Hammer Strike started walking towards Unity. “Girls, could you both go prep our medical supplies? I’m not bleeding, but I should at least clean these wounds.”

Celestia stuttered with wide eyes, leaving Luna to be the one to lead her away and likely slap some sense into her after they got clear of the talking head. A familiar shout of pain soon confirmed that suspicion.

“Say, does the cushion come blood-free?” Mimir questioned.

“Not if you ask a question like that again.”

“Fair enough.”





Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he walked to the mine. Apparently, Momonga had cleared a large section of it for his own uses, and was able to insulate it. The meat was stored within while the pelts and bones were stored in a separate chamber nearby. By this point, Hammer Strike had roughly a week and a half before the next meeting with the Thestrals.

Upon entering the mines, he quickly diverted his path to a nearby section cleared out with a proper door in place. He knocked on it and waited for the Minotaur to answer.

The door swung open moments later, and the undead peered out from it. “Ah, you arrived.” He moved aside to let Hammer Strike in.

Hammer Strike nodded as he entered. “I need to gather some materials.”

“I suspected as much. The bones and hide of this creature are … astoundingly sturdy. Even after being dead for more than a few days, it shows no sign of rot or degradation.” He led the Pony inside, where the pelt had been cut into several dozen bolts of fabric that had been stacked neatly. The bones had been sorted by size and type. “I wonder if you might be willing to part with the skull?”

“I think I need one of the fangs. It’s probably the best to make something with.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Unless you have a better suggestion?”

“Not at all, though I'd say take the hide as well. If you want to make a statement, I’m sure a talented tailor could make something to give them pause.”

Hammer Strike looked to his current coat with a frown. It clearly had seen better days. “You know what? I was due for a new coat, anyway.”

“I’ll keep the rest here until you have need of it. Material like this seems too valuable to get rid of.”

“Definitely.” Hammer Strike nodded as he collected what he wanted. He strapped a section of fur across his side and strapped the fang across his back. The tooth was so long that its tip dragged against the floor. “This is going to make one hell of a sword.”

“I imagine so,” Momonga agreed as he followed him out. “I doubt anything of the mortal plane will be able to match it. Although I feel you and I must talk shortly after you bring the Thestrals to heel.”

“Serious problem?”

“I have found signs to indicate that a coven of vampires may have noticed Unity. I’ve done what I can to ward the wall, but it will not last forever.”

Hammer Strike frowned. “Yeah, we’ll definitely need to talk about that. Keep me updated on the situation, all right?”

“Will do.”

Hammer Strike brought the resources to the workshop he had established outside the mine. The fang was too large to bring into the forge at home, and there was no way he was going to risk the structural integrity of the house for this. It held all the necessary tools, thanks to his work with the gateways he had established. The only additional problem he faced was the fact that he needed to make an anvil that could handle the impacts necessary to reshape the fang. Either that or he would need a lot more spare anvils. Plenty more than he was willing to haul back and forth.

“Perhaps an infusion,” he muttered to himself. It had been some time since he had used his thaumaturgy to infuse metal with an aspect, but perhaps that was what he needed. He just had to find an aspect that would suit his needs.

Air … wouldn’t do anything but perhaps make the anvil lighter. And given his immense natural strength and augmentation, there was no need to do that. Fire would make the surface heated, perhaps keep the metal and other materials at a temperature he wanted, but wouldn’t help him maintain durability. Spirit would work with ethereal materials, but the fang wasn’t ethereal. Water would potentially make a more shapeable anvil….

He continued listing aspects in his head, trying to find something that would work before drifting back to Grif’s aspects, motion in particular. If he worked that in properly, he could perhaps make it give motion in opposition to the force, basically reinforcing the blows with equivalent impacts. It would require refinement, but the theory did hold some merit. He frowned to himself as he continued planning through it in his head before he finally held out a hoof and calling on the nearby aspects to make the necessary compound.

Before him sat a large crystal of motion, and he was still on the fence about how well it would work. But given the state of things, even if the experiment failed, he could always remove the aspect and determine a different route or application for it.

His hoof burst into flames around the crystal and anvil as he started to draw a symbol on the metal’s surface. The crystal steadily dissipated as he finished before both flames cut out. The anvil seemed relatively normal. It hadn’t even changed color, but a quick thaumic scan revealed the successful infusion. There was just one thing to do now.

He frowned as he called Ulkrusher to his hoof. It was unbreakable in it’s own way, so if this process worked, he would end up at a stalemate. It was a simple matter to drag the anvil away from the work space to a clear area. Then he placed Ulkrusher’s head onto the anvil for a moment and aligned himself for the optimum angle and force of impact. He took a breath, hefted the hammer over his shoulder, and slammed it down as hard as he could on the anvil.

Energy burst forth from the metal as it took the blow. A loud metallic ringing shot through the air, and Hammer Strike was shoved back by the sheer force of the recoil. He tumbled, then rolled to his hooves with Ulkrusher still miraculously in his grip. When he finally stopped, he dropped the hammer and shook his hoof as the backlash finally registered in his nerves. He looked to the anvil and couldn’t help but smile, despite the pain.

It was still in one piece.





With his new anvil, it was easy to begin work on the project, and the ring of the Earth Pony’s hammer blows carried through the air, complemented by a chuckle and a smile as Hammer Strike continued to work the fang into a blade. The anvil performed well beyond expectations, and it gave him a sense of pride being able to work with one of the hardest materials he’d ever forged without having to deal with carting out sundered tools and chunks of metal every few strokes.

Thus far, he’d managed to cut away pieces of the fang to remove the inner curve and had filed the point until the tip ran parallel with the now-straight spine. In the outer curve, he’d begun to create the bevels of the edge with careful coordination.

He’d just placed the bone in the forge again to heat up the material when he started to notice voices nearby that he didn’t recognise. Voices that were clearly moving in his direction.

“I know what I heard, and I’m tellin’ you, there wasn’t a shatter,” the first voice commented in a harsh gravelly voice.

“You're telling me that after five hundred tries, someone got lucky and managed it before us?” The second voice was less harsh, but slightly on the higher side.

“Sure seems like it. Now stop yer’ yappin’ and help me find the source!”

Hammer Strike looked to the forest nearby and noted two shapes moving directly toward him.

They were dwarves, or at least they resembled dwarves. Both were Shetland Ponies, like the other cave dwellers, but they seemed … different in their own way. The first was shorter, but stouter, with deep blue fur. He was bald, but sported a black beard and wore a leather smock covered with pockets loaded with tools.

The second was taller, but not as sturdy as the other. His tone was more of a tan that resembled Hammer Strike’s own, and his red mane was tied in a ponytail. He wore a blacksmith's apron.

Both stopped when they spotted Hammer Strike and stared at him.

“Hey, uh,” the shorter one started. “You wouldn’t happen to have heard a loud clang of metal without the shearing of it afterwards, would ye’?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Sir. My brother and I heard a rather loud clang before. There was power in it, and my brother,” he laughed. “My brother believes someone actually went and made an unbreakable anvil!” He wiped a tear from the edge of his eye.

Hammer Strike took one step to the side to reveal the anvil he was working with. “Not sure it’s completely unbreakable, but my tests so far have proven it’s not giving in the slightest.”

The shorter one immediately moved up to Hammer Strike and began to inspect the anvil. After a moment, he turned to look at his brother. “What are you just sittin’ around for? Get over here!”

The other brother approached, examining the anvil carefully. He withdrew a tuning fork from under his apron and proceeded to tap it against the metal. Both brothers grinned at the sharp clear note that came from it.

Hammer Strike raised a brow at the duo before noting that they certainly didn’t come from the mines. “Where, exactly, are you two from?”

The tan Pony dusted himself off to make a better impression. “Well, my name is Sindri, and that is my brother, Brok. And we, good sir, are craftsmen, not unlike yourself. How well aware are you of the other worlds?”

Hammer Strike stared blankly at them for a moment. “Very.”

“Then you know of Yggdrasil.” Sindri nodded. “Well, we are dwarves from the halls of Myrkheim. My brother and I ended up in this world during ou—”

“Oh, fer’ cryin’ out loud!” Brok cut in. “We came down here because we heard you testing that there anvil of yours. How’d you do it?”

Hammer Strike stared at the two for a moment before studying them thaumically. While they didn’t have a field or an intense amount of energy, what they did carry were weak essences of the Primal. He frowned as he looked over the two. “I simply infused it with motion.”

Brok stared at him for a moment before looking to the anvil and back to him. “Sure as hell doesn’t look full o’ motion to me.”

“Not like that.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s … complicated to explain.”

“My brother and I would be willing to compensate you for one like it,” Sindri noted.

Hammer Strike raised a brow. “In what way? Weapons aren’t a high priority for me.”

Brok frowned as he looked to him. “Well, what exactly are you needin’? Armor ain’t exactly our specialty. We’d offer you some magical rings, but I don’t exactly see them’s being your type.”

Hammer Strike hummed as he thought over things. He knew exactly who stood before him, but he definitely didn’t want to walk up that alley. After a moment, he glanced back to his forge and thought over a potential idea. “Well, from what I know about you two, is it safe to assume you know how to upgrade a forge?”

“Upgrade this stagpie? Yer’ better off starting over,” Brok replied bluntly.

“Kinda difficult when I don’t have the tools for it….”

“A new forge, full set of tools, and we’ll throw in some starting supplies,” the other pony spoke up as he carried a discarded bone fragment. “In return for the anvil and whatever you can spare of this material.”

“What in the seven hells do ye think yer’ doin’?” Brok replied harshly. “A whole forge fer’ a single anvil and some bones you can easily find elsewhere?”

Sindri proceeded to reach into Brok’s smock and pull out a ball peen hammer. “You made this, brother. You stand by its strength, right?”

“Yeah. Yer’ point?”

Sindri slammed it against the bone with all his strength. The hammer head bounced away, leaving no marks as sindri held the broken handle up for his brother.

Brok’s attention shot up. “How’d you—?” He snatched the bone fragment over his hammer handle and studied it. “Well, I’ll be…. Where the hell’d you find bone this strong?” He turned toward Hammer Strike.

“I killed the creature by breaking its neck, then collected its corpse,” Hammer Strike replied simply.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brok waved off. “No need to go boasting about yer’ strength. I’ll tells you what. You supply us with an anvil and some more of this bone, and I’ll give you a forge you’ll never, ever, ever forget.”

“That’s great, but I'm not always going to be around here.” Hammer Strike frowned.

“Not an issue. We’ll make a waystone. You can just go there from anywhere you happen to be,” Sindri spoke up.

“A waystone?”

“A stone anchored to a place. Anyone who has one can open a corridor to the place the stone’s anchored to.”

Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “All right. I think I can work with that.”

“Perfect!” Sindri said as he rubbed his hooves together. “We’ll have it ready by Friday.”

“Today’s Thursday,” Hammer Strike replied with a raised brow.

“And? Yer point?” Brok commented. “He said Friday, we’ll have it done by Friday.”

“All right.” Hammer Strike brought a hoof up. “Meet you back here with it?”

“Of course! And don’t tell anyone you saw us, okay? We’re not supposed to be here.”

“What, Bonnie, Faust, and Sleipnir not happy with you or something?”

“Kid, this here is Sleipnir’s little playground. Odin was clear as spit none of us are supposed to be coming around.” Brok spat for emphasis.

“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I guess I’ll get to work on the anvil.”





Hammer Strike tapped his hoof against the second anvil he had made. It had already gone through infusion, so it was merely a matter of waiting for the two dwarves to show up. Behind him also laid a large femur from the Ursa. Since it was far too large for him to work with effectively, anyway, he figured he could afford to part with it.

“Well, slap my flank and call me Sally,” Brok spoke up from behind him.

He turned and noted Brok staring at the bone, studying it up and down as he circled it.

“Will that be enough?” Hammer Strike questioned.

“I’d say,” he glanced to Hammer Strike before walking over to the anvil next to him. After a moment of studying it, he nodded. “Yeah, you certainly held up your end of the bargain.” He reached into his smock and retrieved the stone, then tossed it to the Pony lord.

Hammer Strike caught the stone and, after looking it over, noted that it looked relatively plain with a rune etched into one face of it. “So, … how, exactly, does it work?”

“Oh, fer’—” Brok sighed. “You take the waystone, hold it in front of you, focus on the energy of the waystone, and a gate will open in front of you. Keep in mind, that gate isn’t going to open if anyone ‘special’ is lookin’ at you, and by anyone special, I mean anyone.”

“Solo set. Got it. No method of bringing anyone else?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to bring others there. If you really need to bring someone, have them holding on to you in some way, and go through it with them with their eyes closed,” Brok explained before looking at him flatly. “Well? Go on, already. Sindri’s gonna’ pace a path in that there new forge if you don’t get a move on.”

“Well, you’re kinda looking?” Hammer Strike commented quizzically.

Brok rolled his eyes and grumbled as he turned away from Hammer Strike to the bone once again. “There. Happy?”

“Very.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he held the stone in front of him and focused on the energy of the waystone. After a moment, blue energy formed a frame in front of him, then filled with blue light. When he was confident of the portal’s stability, he stepped through. The gate closed shortly after behind him.

He arrived in a large rounded room. Black stone walled the north side for about forty-five degrees, but the rest of the area was open, showing an endless murky blackness occasionally dotted by points of light, except one point near the wall where a massive tree root snaked into the forge and over the side. Even without using thaumic vision, Hammer Strike could feel astounding amounts of primal energy pumping through that limb.

The wall was primarily filled with tools that sat neatly arranged in containers or hanging on pegs waiting to be used. The majority of the tools were for smithing, but Hammer Strike also noticed tools for engraving, woodworking, leatherworking, and even sewing and stitching spaced out and equally organized. At the central point of the forge, a slit had been formed in the upper part of the chamber. Molten steel flowed through, glowing bright orange. Then it ran into several channels that spidered through the floor in vent-covered trenches, allowing heat and light to pour through on all sides. The center of the room had a large rounded area where an anvil brace waited. On the other side, a crafting table stood prepared. The furnace had levers instead of bellows, and was already burning brightly as Hammer Strike approached. An eight-legged reptile roughly the size of a corgi slept within the flames.

Sindri stood in the center, smiling at him. “What do you think?”

“This … is a lot more than I anticipated,” Hammer Strike commented in surprise.

“Everything we agreed on, and maybe a little more. I added a few things when Brock was busy.” Sindri smiled as he pulled Hammer Strike toward the murky blackness of one “wall.” “Look into it and call for a material. Just pick something.”

Hammer Strike frowned as he thought of something. “Uh, … how about ebony?”

From out of the darkness, a small black object clunked to the ground. A perfectly formed square ebony ingot awaited his touch.

After a second he reached out and grabbed the ingot. He didn’t have to study it to tell it was exactly what he’d asked for. “That’s definitely going to be useful.”

“Now for something truly special,” Sindri said. “But just between us, Brock would kill me if he found out I threw these in.” Sindri led him near the tool wall, then stomped his hoof six times. Suddenly, a segment of the floor popped up, revealing a square panel roughly three feet wide and a foot-and-a-half long. Hefting it up, the dwarf revealed three ingots. Each was the color of highly polished brass, and probably would be impossible to look at with a brighter light source. Sindri looked at Hammer Strike expectantly.

Hammer Strike scanned the material for only a second before letting the vision fade and blinking repeatedly. “What in the world is that stuff? It’s too compound for me to even see broken down.”

“If you know who me and my brother are, then surely you’ve heard of Mjolnir?” Sindri asked.”This is uru. This is the metal we made it from. Harvested from the center of a dying star, it is the strongest and rarest metal ever created by god or dwarf. A small chip of one of these ingots could forge a greatsword finer then any made before.”

“You’re really giving me three ingots’ worth?” Hammer Strike remarked with some surprise.

“My brother’s a practical man. I can fault him for it, but I am less so. You obviously have the eyes of Sleipnir, and probably several other gods. I think you’ll use these well.” Sindri smiled at him. “Also, I feel bad about shilling you in this deal.”

“Honestly, this works for me. Only thing I could ask for extra is apparently fulfilled. How many ingots of normal metals are available to me?”

“Things like regular steel or iron are practically limitless,” Sindri noted as he closed the panel. “We added a few hundred ingots of orichalcum, three hundred of celestial bronze and celestia steel, two hundred and fifty of stygian iron, mythril, bright steel, various types of star metal, ebony. Fifty adamantine, fifty titanium, twenty silver, twenty silverite, and ten ingots of ice from the heart of Niflheim.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling comfortable about this deal,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Question for you, though. If this is further down the line from home, what’s the difference in the flow of time?”

“Oh, yes, I forgot!” He pulled out a tool that vaguely resembled a clock. “This mark is time in your world.” He pointed to the noon symbol. “To slow down time here, move it clockwise. To speed up time here, move it counter-clockwise.”

“I can control it here? That’ll certainly prove useful.”

“This is the foot of Yggdrasil, not actually in one of the nine realms. This place normally doesn’t have a time as mortals understand it. We had to pay off an elf to work up time for this place, so yeah, you can control the flow in this space.”

“I appreciate it,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile. “Last question. Will there be a way to contact either of you, just in case? I might be willing to trade more of the bone down the line.”

“Well, we really shouldn’t….” Sindri seemed conflicted before sighing. He pulled out a small business card and handed it to Hammer Strike. “Just burn this if you want to see us again.”

“I’ll refrain from doing so unless it’s desperate. I’ll leave the whole trade for more ursa bone to you two.”

“Just don’t tell Sleipnir about this place,” Sindri stressed.

“What place?”

“Good answer.” Sindri chuckled. “Now, as you’re here, I take it brock was happy enough with what you gave him, so I’ll be taking my leave of you now.”

Hammer Strike chuckled. “Enjoy the anvil and femur.”

“Perfect! That will be great for our project.” Sindri gave one last wave before walking beyond the wall, only to return a moment later. “Almost forgot something.”

Hammer Strike raised a brow.

Sindri walked over to the root. “This is a root of Yggdrasil. It’s still connected to the tree, which means that bits of wood taken from it can still grow back in a few hours to a day. Just don’t take too much from it.”

“Noted.” He nodded.

“Okay, I’m off for real. Good luck.” And with a wave, the dwarf vanished behind the wall.

Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he sat within the new forge. He pulled out the waystone again and couldn’t help but smile. “You know what? I think this will be the perfect place to finish my newest additions.”





The first caves were a sacred place to Thestralkind. From this place, the tribes had first emerged long ago to forage and seek supplies. From this sanctuary, they learned to craft weapons, to hunt, and ultimately to seek their own lives through survival of the fittest. The sun had not been their ally then, and as tradition dictated, it still was not now. The cavern was a vast structure connected with a crisscross of tunnels that spiraled around the central structure with openings at various levels. The entrances were cleverly concealed to protect against those that would seek to do them harm.

Silver light pulsed in veins throughout the structure, filling it with the calming assurance of the night without the crushing darkness that often filled most Ponies with fear. The moon stone was plentiful, and led to the central point of the spiral, where the seven chieftains now gathered to discuss that which had come to concern them all.

“This creature is no better than the other invaders. He usurps the land, drives our game away, forces our sister tribe to stay away from that which is their right!” The Lion Tribe’s chieftain crashed his hoof on the cavern floor. “We talked. We decided. He would not listen. If he does not do as we have commanded, we will make him listen.”

“He came to you seeking a peaceful solution,” the Fox Tribe’s chieftess said. “He offered you ways that both sides could end their issues peacefully.”

“Yes, like the horned ones asked for peace? The moment we stopped being of use to them, they sought to hunt us, to enslave us. There is no guarantee of such fairness from this stranger. And he grants sanctuary to these very same beasts. They are cruel, and their hearts are blackened with greed and pride. He is either blind to it or thinks to repel it. Such things inevitably lead to a gruesome end,” the Manticore’s leader said. Her spear lay by her side as she gazed on her fellows. Silvery streaks like the moon dyed the braided locks of her black mane.

“Perhaps he could be the hedge that separates us from them,” the Viper chieftess said. “How much longer do you think we can stop them from just taking things? Their numbers swell as ours diminish. They hold magic and weapons we cannot match.”

“And we hold knowledge of the terrain, the skies, and tactics that they cannot anticipate. For now, at least, we can maintain a balance,” the Wolf chieftess said.

“And how long?” the chieftess of the Bear asked. “There is no survival in this path.”

“On this, I am agreed, but we have voted over the circumstances already. I was overruled. You know the laws.”

“Though I am loath to admit it openly, this Pony bested one of my warriors. He has shown strength,” the Dragon Chieftain said.

“One trial of combat does not a leader make,” the Lion chieftain countered.

There was the distant sound of a rapid gallop near the top of the cave, and as the chieftains looked up, a small figure leapt into the air and, though some unknown means, made it to the center of the cone before plummeting downward. Whatever it was landed dead center of their ring before they could react. When the smoke finally cleared, they looked up to see what they expected to be a dead body.

Instead, Hammer Strike sat in the center of the room. Rather than the armor they had seen him in beforehand, he wore a long coat that covered a majority of his body. Each cuff ended with a thin inlay of golden fabric, but what laid in the centre brought memories to each of them. Clusters of light glimmered among a black slate, revealing galaxies spiralling around themselves.

Not a word passed his lips as Hammer Strike drew the blade from his back. The long cleaver-like blade curved to a deadly point. Blackened metal had been used to reinforce the spine. Its surface ignored all light in the room, leaving it at a constant shade of black. On the right face of the blade, the obsidian token he’d received from the bear tribe lay embedded into the bone close to the spine. The same black metal had been used to form the guard at the base of the blade, running the width of the sword and no longer. It waved and curved like black tendrils clamping to the ancient bone. Emerging from that was a long single handle of wood double-wrapped in the ursa fur. At the pommel, a bear’s snarling face was carved. a two-foot-long ribbon of ursa fur hung freely from the pommel, trailing behind Hammer Strike’s movements as he turned the blade point down and sunk it into the stone with ease.

“I’d say it leans toward the size of the trial more than anything,” Hammer Strike commented as he brushed off his shoulder.

“So, the great bear is dead,” the Bear chieftess said with a smile.

“Very much so,” Hammer Strike replied with a smirk. “So, do I have all of your attention?”

“Trickery!” the Lion chief snarled as he lunged to his hooves. His great mane shook with his fury. “Trickery and illusion from the horned ones in your care!” He drew a spear from a quiver that lay at his side.

“You’d dare lift your weapon in this sacred place?” the Bear chieftess chastised. “No blood is to be spilt here. You know the law. Put that down.”

“And in the case of an intruder, an outsider who would reveal the location of that which we hold most sacred to the rest of his kind?”

“I invited the outsider, so we might hear his case.” The old mare lifted one wrinkled eye toward the stallion. It burned with fury. “Your pride does not bypass our laws. If you doubt him so much, let him tell his story, and let his articles be examined. If he is lying, we will know.”

The stallion grit his teeth and growled, but gradually lowered his weapon. “I do not like this,” he objected, “but you speak true. The Bear Tribe bears the gift of knowing. However, I still object to your bringing him here. Another cave, another place, would have been far more reasonable.”

“If reason were the prevailing head, we would not be here in the first place,” she returned scathingly before turning to Hammer Strike. “May I examine your sword and coat?”

“You may.” Hammer Strike pulled his sword from the ground to reveal it in its glory. “As may all of you. Come forth and look upon the remains of your false god.”

A lion’s roar rebounded through the cavern as the Lion’s chief lunged at the offender. His mane rippled with his rage as he bore his fangs and threw his weight into the charge. The spear lay forgotten with its brothers, so great was his reaction to what he deemed a blasphemy.

Hammer Strike remained perfectly calm as the stallion bore down on him. He waited for the opportune moment. Then, in one fluid motion, he dodged and seized his attacker by the throat. The gurgling exclamation that was the result of that impact was audible to all in the immediate vicinity as the stallion’s legs flew out from under him, then swung back like a pendulum while Hammer Strike lifted him into the air with the aid of a thaumic band to ensure a full grip around the stallion’s neck.

“Know this, young one,” Hammer Strike spoke in the Thestral tongue. “I may be patient, but you are pushing that patience to its limit.” He fixed the Thestral with a chilling stare, then dropped him to the ground, where the stallion coughed and gulped at the air in equal measure.

The Bear chieftess ignored the display as she climbed toward Hammer Strike and ran a hoof down the sword, tapping it here and there and giving it a careful look. She turned to him and walked forward, taking the hem of his coat in her hooves and stroking it gently.

“Ursa fur. I haven’t felt this since I was a little foal. My grandfather and several warriors gave their lives to bring it down. I thought I'd never find anything like it again.” She signalled to the others. “Come. Feel it for yourselves,” she encouraged.

The other leaders did so and marveled at the craftsmanship. Some even went so far as to test the edge of Hammer Strike’s sword against other materials on hoof. Even the Manticore had no choice but to acknowledge what already stood plainly before them. The chieftess looked apologetically, even with concern at the Lion Tribe’s leader. He refused to show more weakness than he already had, though the glare he fixed on Hammer Stroke spoke louder than words that he would not easily forget nor forgive what he had just experienced.

“By our laws, he that kills the beast gains its strength. And it’s authority,” the Bear chieftess said. “This is a law we have lived with since time immemorial. Things are crystal clear.” She turned to Hammer Strike. “What would you have of us, Great Bear and Champion of the Moon?”

“I would have you all work alongside me,” he replied simply. “Though some of you may not believe it, I do not wish for you all to drop your titles and settle under me. You all will keep your rank, but I will be the one to guide you all.” He flipped the sword in his grip once again and stabbed it into the center of the floor. Thaumic flames erupted from the ground. When they cleared, all present could see the mark of the Ursa burned into the stone beneath them. “I will lead you all to a better future, one settled under the guiding light of the moon.”

“To the Great Bear!” The Fox chieftess held up her tomahawk before placing it in front of her. “The fox will follow.”

“As wIll the lesser bear.” The Bear chieftess set her own throwing axe down. The Viper and Dragon soon followed.

The Manticore chieftess looked apologetically at the Lion, then laid her axe at Hammer Strike’s hooves. “The Manticore accepts your power and authority.”

The Wolf followed suit with far more dignity as she looked half in wonder and half in a grudging admiration of the power he had displayed. “I may lead my pack, but you will lead us all.”

All eyes fell on the last of the chieftains. The Lion rose grudgingly to his hooves. “It would seem I have little choice.” His tomahawk soon joined the rest. “I won’t lie by saying I approve or am excited. But I have been bested. I will not be made a fool of twice in one day.”

“Good to hear,” Hammer Strike commented. “Now, I believe we have some problems to discuss.”





“Well, my Strikey-wikey certainly knows how to make a statement, doesn’t he?” Rarity asked. A smile had crossed her face, and it flushed with admiration as she fanned it.

Pensword’s eyes were fixed on one thing from the event. “Th… HAMERSTRIKE FORGED THE OATH SWORD!” He roared in the room. “And he fought the Lion and won!” He was very much disoriented by the rush of history. “Twice in as many days, and my own knowledge of my past hath been upended.” Tears leaked down his cheeks. “Even Luna will need to follow Hammer Strike. She may lead us Thestrals, but Hammerstrike Rules like King Arthur did Britannia.”

“Hammer Strike obviously felt this method was kinder than the obvious answer,” Grif noted. “I doubt we’ll see such bloodless conflict again.”

“Oh, I can see this. And a part of me looks forward to seeing the wars that the Thestrals will wage with Hammer Strike’s blessing. This era…” Pensword paused and looked around at the others. “This is our Camelot. This was the age that saw us almost believe we could live side by side with non-Thestrals. He ended an age of deep temptations, our equivalent of the Dark Ages, single-hoofed! If it weren’t for Discord, we could well have fully integrated by now. Some called him the Sun’s wrath.”

“I suppose Unity won’t have leather issues anymore.” Grif chuckled.

“Now the question is, which animal leather will become the sign of nobility?” Pensword asked. “I personally prefer wolf leather, myself.”

“I suppose that depends how the populations even out. Also, should we poke her with a stick or something?” Grif gestured to Twilight, who was sitting not far off, staring at the screen, dumbfounded.

“Better to wait for the automatic reboot,” Vital said.

“I wonder what she’s locked up about this time. This is, what, Hammer Strike’s eightieth monster kill?” Pensword raised his voice. “As the High Duke of Thestrals, I claim first expedition for the Thestrals.”

“Pensword, first of all, she can’t hear you. Secondly, even if she could, I don’t think you have the right to claim it first. That’s for Luna to claim as the High Chieftess. You’ve already got your plate full dealing with the settlement,” Vital noted.

“You know, that looked familiar,” Grif said suddenly.

“What did?” Pensword asked, before looking to Vital. “And for the record, Vital, I am the only Thestral in the room. I had to make the claim, even if some other Thestral will do the expedition.”

“That sword, or at least the handle,” Grif replied. “We found a massive door in New Unity with a sword stuck in the ground. Not even Hammer Strike could remove it.”

Pensword’s mouth dropped and his eyes glazed over as his brain froze at just what Grif had said. His wings extended and locked in place. Twilight now had company in the land of system crashes.





Luna and celestia had been sent away. Not necessarily to bed, but away, as Hammer Strike didn’t want them present for the conversations likely to happen. The winter raged outside the door, but the hearth was well stocked, and so the room was reasonably warm as the four figures sat around the table in Hammer Strike’s living room. Two Unicorns, an Earth Pony, and a Minotaur.

“So, Momonga, before all this had happened, you had alerted me to the presence of vampires nearby?” Hammer Strike questioned.

“Yes. It seems to be a fairly large coven. The figures identified were clearly used to working together, and were well synchronized. I fear they may be led by an elder vampire.”

“Are the solar orbs working in at least repelling the weaker variants?”

“They seem to be, for now. However, I'm worried that this elder vampire will begin uplifting them if the orbs prove to be too much of a hindrance.”

“What methods are available to us for dealing with this? We talking wooden stake through the heart? Am I going to have to look for a priest to get some holy water...?”

“Holy water would help. The wooden stake only really works if you catch them in their coffins. Silver might work, but the purity makes it … impractical.”

“This is going to be problematic.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Clover, Binding, your thoughts?”

“Well, with the lack of any religious figures in Unity, it might be better to rotate garlic into the crops. It would at least slow them down,” Clover added.

“And, if you’ll forgive the callousness of the statement, the contracts are still in effect. If they turn anyone in the settlements, those newborns will still have to obey the laws they agreed to. As for a more direct strategy, I’ve heard that there are certain creatures that exist in opposition to vampires, but I’m not certain we can rely on such a creature just dropping into Unity,” Binding added.

“I don’t want to run the risk of seeing how the contract works on them.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll have to check with Free Market to see if she carries any garlic bulbs or seeds, or if anyone has traded some in recently from out of our settlement.”
 
“We could also see about setting up warding spells to build extra layers of defense. And I believe I’ve heard that running water is a suitable deterrent to even the strongest undead. Is it possible for us to build some form of a moat or other circulating body of water around the town?”

“I already looked into that. The town’s simply too wide.” Momonga shook his head.

“So, we need to start looking for a priest, garlic, and other potential alternatives.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Or silver.”

“We would need a means to keep the silver pure as well,” Binding noted as he rubbed his chin. “That could be difficult.”

“Trust me.” Hammer Strike looked at him flatly. “I know.”

“I’ve done all I can as far as wards,” Momonga noted. “They won’t last forever.”

“I might be able to amplify the effect temporarily, give us some more time to work with.”

“I’ll see if I can locate this elder vampire,” Momonga said.

“It could be warded as well,” Binding noted. “Perhaps you can ask our new allies if they have any experience.”

“They wouldn’t think to ward against me.” Momonga chuckled. Then he sighed. “Unfortunately, there is another matter that I will have to hunt down before that.”

“Another matter? As in another threat?” Binding asked.

“Before your people took the name for their ice spirits, there was another type of windigo to worry about.”

“Star Swirl would have mentioned that,” Clover spoke up.

“Star Swirl the Bearded knows as much about darkness as he cares to. That is to say, not at all,” Momonga answered her. “A wendigo, not to be mistaken with windigo, is a creature of hunger and desperation created most commonly after harsh winters force some to acts of cannibalism.”

“Ponies eating other Ponies?” Clover balked. “That’s unheard of, not to mention biologically impossible for us. We can barely stomach fish.”

“That matters not to the desperate,” Hammer Strike commented. “And those who aren’t exactly normal,” he finished, revealing his canines.

Clover gaped at the sight.

“Wendigo are very dangerous, and while regular mortals can kill them, the spirit of the wendigo will simply find a new host unless it is dealt with on a more spiritual plane,” Momonga said.

“So, it’s a spirit that possesses the bodies of those who choose to engage in cannibalism. Does it have any other qualities? Are there many such spirits or only a few that seek out hosts over time? Are they ancient magical beings, like the windigo are, or something else?” Clover asked both as a matter of curiosity and also for defense. “Do they function in a manner similar to a malevolent spirit, like a poltergeist? And if so, does that mean they can be expelled by similar means, such as invocation or other holy measures?”

“I will show you my bestiary later, and you can learn for yourself,” Momonga promised.

“Where would you have gotten hold of such a record, anyway?” Clover asked curiously.

“Saddle Arabia. It was sold to the trader I bought it from by a Yak.” He shrugged. “I have no need for food or water. Books are the one thing that mattered.”

“No need?” Binding pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and the lenses flashed again. “I see. And are you capable of traveling this spiritual plane or otherwise accessing it to deal with the problem on a more permanent basis?”

“The capture, binding, and destruction of spirits are all well within the abilities of my arts,” Momonga stated. “Along with many other things.”

Binding looked inquiringly at Hammer Strike, who gave the slightest nod. “Then I suppose we’ll have to trust in your skills, Momonga,” he finally said.

“We may need to warn the other settlements as well. If this kind of threat is cropping up here, then the other tribes are likely to become targets as well, many of which will be far easier to exploit,” Clover added.

“We can try to warn the others,” Hammer Strike started. “Earth Pony settlements might listen to me, but our best connections to the others aren’t in the best of lights.”

“I’ll try to alert Star Swirl as well. The Ponies may not listen to you, but they will listen to him, and this is a threat that he knows can’t simply be ignored.”

“You’ll have to be careful about that.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Especially since your recent exit.”

“I never said I’d go back to the kingdom. Star Swirl said for us not to be involved with their politics, so I’m not. Besides, did you really think after all these years under his tutelage that I wouldn’t have learned a spell to contact him privately?”

“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “To be fair, I never really kept tabs on your studies.”

“How could you have?”

“By asking you,” he replied simply. “To be honest, I’m still not used to the idea of everyone present practically working right alongside me. It’s … normally others.”

“You’ll have to introduce us some time, then,” Clover said. “Was there anything else people had to contribute, or are we ready to go implement our plans?”

“I can think of nothing further at this time, other than possibly alerting Hurricane to the situation. Frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t been invited to join this council yet, given how much he’s helped shape this community,” Binding said.

“It’s probably a good idea. Would you mind catching him up to speed, Binding?” Hammer Strike requested.

Binding nodded. “As you command.”

“Clover, contact Star Swirl and gather what info you can.”

“Will do.” clover nodded.

“Momonga, I’ve got something to talk with you about after this.”

“I’ll remain, then.”

“All right; I leave you all to your duties. I’ve got some preparations to make.”

The duo disbanded, leaving the lord and the Minotaur alone to discuss.

“Momonga, I want you to prep your cave for tonight.” Hammer Strike sighed.

“So, you’ve decided, then?” Momonga asked.

“If we’re getting these issues, it’s time to step up our security. If it means having to do this, I will do so gladly.”

“When should I expect you?”

“Three hours.” He frowned. “I want to run through everything in my head.”

“I’ll have everything ready.” The Minotaur nodded. “You won’t regret this.”

Hammer Strike nodded as Momonga set off to prepare. He sighed to himself and ran a hoof through his mane. “I hope this doesn’t end with one of you up there coming down here. I’ve already got enough stress on my mind.”





The room Momonga had set up for the act was on the larger side, longer than it was wide. It had been arranged similarly to a church, save for the bones scattered about and the torches burning blood red around them. Momonga sat waiting at the front when Hammer Strike arrived. He’d removed his robe, and his staff lay dormant nearby. Brasiers sat on either side of him, wafting strong-smelling incense into the air. As the Pony approached, he could see why. While the Minotaur was in relatively good shape, a few areas of his body had begun to bloat. Several points looked like they had just fallen off. A stone table lay nearby, waiting.

“I hope everything is good enough. I wasn’t sure what materials you might require,” Momonga said.

“None,” Hammer Strike assured him. “My methods are quite different from standard.”

“Very well. What do you require of me?”

Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a red orb. “I would suggest you lay down. This process will be, perhaps, on the more extreme side.”

Momonga nodded and laid himself on the table. Under the full light of the torches, Hammer Strike finally saw how very cadaverous the bovine’s countenance had become at that point. How had no one noticed the Minotaur’s lack of breathing all this time?

“Shall I deal with your flesh as well?” Hammer Strike asked.

“That would be for the best. I would have to part with it eventually, anyway.”

Hammer Strike nodded as thaumic energy started to escape him. “Then we begin.” He moved to Momonga’s side. “Upon my authority as a thaumaturge, I shall bind you to this verbal contract. You shall be granted the ascension beyond the mortal coil you so crave, and with it the ability to grow to new heights arcane. In turn, you are bound to my bloodline from acceptance forthright. My word shall become a law you can never refuse. From acceptance forward, you shall be granted some of my power, ever growing in scale until you can take no more. Do you accept this?”

“I do accept and swear to your terms,” Momonga said without a second thought.

“Though your soul remain trapped, you shall live forevermore,” Hammer Strike responded as he wrapped his thaumic energy around Momonga and ripped his mind and soul from it. As soon as they were clear, he swiped his hoof and flame coated Momonga’s corpse, burning away the flesh until nothing but bone remained. Within his other hoof, he bound the soul and mind to the orb. Finally, he linked the orb to the skeleton. After the flames died, he took the orb and placed it in the skeleton’s ribcage, fusing it to the bone. “No matter the state of your phylactery, your soul and mind are bound eternal.” He continued to link the mind and soul to the skeleton, forming a false array of senses from touch to smell. Additionally, he added reinforcement to the bones to ensure Momonga would have resistance to blunt force.

After completing his task, he released the soul and mind to it’s lively state, allowing Momonga to become aware of the world around him once more.

Momonga sat there silently for a while. The only sign of his awareness was the two glowing crimson points that shone in his eye sockets. “It is finished?” he finally asked. The jaw didn’t move, but the voice resonated from deep behind clenched teeth.

“Yes,” Hammer Strike replied. “And I have no doubt the divine will find this act … unpleasant.”

“No doubt the devils as well.” Momonga chuckled as he sat up. “You’ve created a lich bound to no will but your bloodline.” The skeleton held out a hand experimentally. Black flames erupted high from his hand and danced sporadically.  “I can feel understanding unlike anything I've experienced before. I can feel the dark, and yet it holds no siren call to me.”

“Through my right as a thaumaturge, you are forever bound to me. Nothing can sway you from my hold,” Hammer Strike explained simply.

Momonga nodded as he stood. He held out his fingers before him. Small flashes of black fire played across them, forming ten rings. More flames covered his body, forming a black robe that flowed downward from his shoulders. The front was lined with purple at the front where it sealed together, save for the area in front of his massive ribcage, which opened to the world. The red orb shone with an eerie glow. A hood covered his skull until just at the forehead, and opened at the sides to allow his massive horns through. Long purple ribbons unraveled from the hood and ended near his feet while gold lined the hem of the hood down the shoulders and around the massive sleeves. A gold yoke wrapped around his neck where the shoulder coverings started. On top of the coverings, pauldrons formed to accurately brace his horns. Almost as an after note, the fire raced across his horns. When it dispersed, two large red orbs had been embedded into them near the base, and they had been cleaned and coated in what appeared to be silver.

“A new life.” He waved his hand and his staff jumped to it of its own accord. “Betokens a new name. With your permission?” Momonga looked to Hammer Strike.

Hammer Strike nodded simply as the thaumic energy around him died down.

The lich laughed. “Then from this day, know me as Ainz Ooal Gown.”

“We’ll have to update the others,” Hammer Strike noted. “Though, first, I think I need to make a few items to help cover you up in public.”

There was a flash of fire and the Minotaur’s skeletal face was covered by a bright red and green mask containing a somewhat unsettling grin.

“That’ll work.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Don’t forget some gloves or gauntlets. Kinda removes the point of the mask if they just see bones for hands.”

“Yes.” Ainz nodded. “But for now, I have preparations to make. I will also see about procuring some additional troops, should you need them. I only ask you send me any spare bodies you don’t need.”

“I will. But for now, I think I’m going to take a moment to relax. Eternally binding a soul and mind while basically hiding our presence from Death is a pain to deal with.”

“I will make sure you don’t regret it,” Ainz repeated. “You go rest. I have work to be done!”

“Joy.”





The next day would be one forever etched in Hammer Strike’s memory.

It had started perfectly normal. Work was going along as planned. Clover and binding had thrown themselves into their studies. Hurricane was drilling the troops. Most other Ponies were packed away in their homes. The orbs could keep back the winter cold, but it was still winter, and instinct was always present. Those that did go out usually went to procure firewood. The Gryphons left to hunt. The Diamond Dogs were working in their mines, and the small group of Thestrals that had accompanied Hammer Strike back to Unity where busy tanning hides into leather.

Even momonga was quiet, having procured a small group of bodies to use. From where, Hammer Strike was unsure. No one was missing, and there was no evidence of any murders, so hammerstrike chose to side with an I-don’t-need-to-know mindset.

The leader was just thinking about returning to the forge for a while when he felt it, far to the east. Thaumic energies shifted and prodded each other violently. The aspect of aer seemed to move in a confused frenzy as something was pulled. Otherworldly screams filled the air around him as primal energy flared and surged wildly. And then, with four haunting shrieks of pain, it stopped. Only, when things settled again, the world felt different, … wrong. Like something fundamental had just been forcibly ripped from the very fabric of the world.

Hammer Strike sat still, blinking as he comprehended the situation he’d just experienced. It took him a few minutes to realize that he had just felt the Winds being banished, heard their screams as it happened.

“Are you all right, Sir?” Hurricane asked, having noticed Hammer Strike’s reaction from a distance.

“I…” Hammer Strike blinked a few times and looked to Hurricane. “I need you to find the Gryphons who are currently out on a hunt. If you can’t do it, send someone else and make sure they’re at least all right. It won’t be pleasant. I can assure you of that much.”

Hurricane saluted. “Yes, Sir. Did something happen?”

“I’ll explain later.” Hammer Strike shook his head as Hurricane left to execute his orders. “Ains,” Hammer Strike called out, “track down our Diamond Dogs and keep them where they are. Don’t alarm them. Just keep them together and safe.”

“I’m on it,” Ainz responded over their link. “Whatever that was, it was … unpleasant.”

Hammer Strike set off toward some of the Gryphon camps to ensure everyone was all right. Many of the Gryphons had huddled together. Some just sat there catatonically. Others seemed to be attempting to pray. Most disturbingly was the greater majority weeping openly as a group. He was unsure of what to say as he approached the majority. How could one console someone who’d just had such an intimate connection forcibly severed?

“The winds are gone,” one Gryphoness commented when she saw him. “We have no gods. No one guards the gates of the beyond. We, … we are alone.”

“I … I know. I heard their screams,” he replied somberly. “I could feel it.” He laide a hoof on his chest.

“Why would anyone do this? Why take our gods?” she asked.

“Fear,” he replied after a moment. “I’m sorry, but … you were the last ones at the top of the world.”

“On top of the world?”

Hammer Strike sighed. “My daughters are the only Alicorns left on this planet. All of the rest, every last one of them, are dead,” he replied simply. “Gryphons were the only ones left standing above the world.”

“We only stood at all because of the Winds,” she said. “Faust abandoned us to decay and die, and now nothing stands between us and a slow death.”

Hammer Strike looked at her for a moment before determining his next actions. “Listen to me on this.” He stood tall and raised his voice. “To all of you in earshot!”

The Gryphons did look up, though their faces were marred by a mixture of heartache and sorrow.

“Know this. No matter what you may feel now or what you believe, know that your gods aren’t gone forever. Their presence still exists, if only just. They are not dead, but sealed away.”

That got their attention. Many murmured among themselves. Some were suspicious. Some were incredulous. Others were disbelieving. But a desperation clawed at the back of those gazes.

“They're … really alive?” the Gryphoness he’d been speaking with asked softly.

“Feel around you. Can you truly say you no longer feel anything? Gods are beings beyond our mortal ways. They do not die so simply. They may be gone now, but they are not gone forever. Their influence still exists, limited though it may be.”

Many of the group seemed to stop, a few small nods came from the crowd.

Hammer Strike shifted the hue of his eyes white to further his best efforts. “Know this. Though it will take many years, there will be a time where one will stand in a grand effort to bring them back. This arbiter of their will, this … Avatar of Winds, will work near tirelessly to do it.”

“The Avatar of Winds?”

“The Avatar shall gather the echoes of the Winds, and through tools unknown and power forgotten, open the gates for them to return once more.”

To say the crowd was happy would be an overstatement, but a look of grim determination spread across them. Most stopped weeping to themselves as they looked to help others who were less fortified.

What gave hammerstrike pause was when several males and females lowered their beaks to him as one .

Hammer Strike gave a sad smile as he looked over them all. “Stay strong, and know that no matter how dark times may seem, there is a light.” He gave them a nod. “Come now. Your brethren will soon return, and they will need that spark of hope.”

And with that, the Gryphons of Unity began to work. Hammerstrike would notice a change in them over the next few weeks. The Gryphons had always been polite, but distant and separated from Unity. They soon would be seen around the town proper, interacting with the other races. Smiles and laughter would soon follow as they developed connections with everyone else. At long last, the Gryphons would begin to integrate.

For now, however, Hammer Strike bid them farewell and started the return trip home. It was a quiet trip, but he felt at least slightly better, given the end results. “Ainz, keep watch over the pack, and deal with any troubles that may arise against them, but give them freedom to move again. I will brief them myself later on what happened. You’re clear to return to your normal duties.”

“Acknowledged.”

He sighed to himself. It was a horrific matter he just had to deal with. If he had to bluff his way through it to keep them hopeful, he would. He knew the others on his little council would eventually have questions for him, but for now, he simply wanted to go home and prepare dinner.

Upon opening his front door, however, he felt red flags pop up as a different presence emanated within the house. Celestia and Luna were off doing their own work. Hermes was out making deliveries for their settlement, and Clover was currently in her own workshop.

A warm fire crackled merrily, and a thick leatherbound tome sat on a table with an inkwell, a quill, and a parchment that the quill wrote on automatically without any magical prompting. A large teapot steamed in the center of an ornate metal tray, surrounded by various ingredients to augment the brew that doubtless sat waiting to be poured. When Hammer Strike remained motionless, a white wing stretched invitingly out from a high-backed chair and waved. “I won’t bite, you know.” The voice was soft and hovered around a smooth alto.

“Now is really not the time.” Hammer Strike sighed as he turned toward the source of the voice.

“I’m aware.” Four hooves clopped on the floor, and a long red mane peeked up over the chair’s top, along with a long spiraling white horn. Blue met blue as Faust’s eyes locked with Hammer Strike’s. “Thank you, for giving them comfort.”

“I … don’t want to experience that again.” Hammer Strike looked to her. “I’m not a Gryphon. I’m not connected to the Winds in any way. But I could feel them. I could hear them scream in agony as they were sealed away. I can only imagine what they felt.”

“It was terribly cruel and unnecessary.” She shook her head sadly. “I never thought they could … that they would….”

“The Diamond Dogs were terrified.” Hammer Strike moved over to the couch and took a seat. “The Alicorns died off, leaving the Gryphons the only ones to stand at the top of the world. To be honest, I wondered how the rest of the world would manage with this level of separation.”

“They had gods of their own to watch over them. They’d even brokered a peace with the Winds.” She shuddered. “And they repaid that trust by stealing gifts meant for another to fuel the spell. Only a few powers on this earth can rival a god. One such lies with the Titans.”

“You need to ensure this can’t happen again.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Lest history repeat itself through other races.”

“I can’t control the acts of mortals so easily. You know this.”

“But you can sway them over the course of years,” Hammer Strike countered.

“To an extent, perhaps, but not all. Every god in this world has their own covenant people. I can counsel with them on the best course of action for the future and a proper punishment, but it must be something we all agree to for it to have an enduring effect.”

“You owe it to yourself to try,” Harmony said as she materialized beside Hammer Strike. “For the Winds and for the wrong your children did to me and my brother.”

“They weren’t meant to turn out that way,” Faust said as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“They sought to take order into their hooves, to leash chaos. You knew the consequences for meddling with such forces. That’s why you finally had to let them face them. From here on, it is up to you as the Creator Goddess to ensure it does not happen again. Hammer Strike and I will raise your daughters properly, so your favorite children may have the chance to walk the land again. Your duty is to limit how far the remainder’s magic can reach, and more importantly to tend to your other children with equal love.”

Faust swallowed heavily. “It is a difficult thing you ask, but I am honorbound to give it to you, to both of you.”

“Honorbound?” Hammer Strike asked.

“I believe you would call it a divine boon.”

“Doesn’t explain the how part,” Hammer Strike continued.

“My children systematically tortured and abused you and many others. Is that not justification enough?”

Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Right…. I kinda figured it would happen either way.”

“You … what?”

“Any advanced species tends to get … confident. If it weren’t the Alicorns, admittedly, I wonder what the Gryphons would have done, or any others who rose in the ranks.”

“And this doesn’t anger you?”

“Don’t get me wrong. If it weren’t for their systematic slaughter, I honestly think I would have found a way to hunt most of them down and drown them in their own blood,” Hammer Strike replied bluntly. “I will potentially recall what they did to me until the day I die. But, as you stated, changing ways takes a long time, and after they fell that far, there was no recovering, even if you staged a divine intervention.”

Faust sighed. “Regardless, I fear it will take time and careful cultivation before the remainder of my children are able to evolve. They will have to learn the same lessons many times over, I think, before they are ready.”

“Teach them right,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. “I mean, either that or my job gets harder.”

Harmony rolled her eyes. “I will teach them, when the time is right. Indeed, in many ways, we have already begun to teach. The attunement will take time, but my power should prove a proper check against those who step beyond their bounds, once the Ponies learn to tap into it.”

“But will that really be enough?” Faust asked.

“Only Father knows, and perhaps one or two others.”

Faust sighed. “I suppose it will have to do for now.”

“It’ll mostly work,” Hammer Strike commented with a shrug. “Though that’s a long way off.”

“We’ll do what we can to alleviate the damage in the meantime. You may not hear from me or many of us for a while.”

“Honestly,” Hammer Strike looked to her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but these meetings aren’t really something I look forward to.”

Faust smiled weakly. “You are very wise.” The scroll, inkwell, and quill rose to join her, along with the book. “It’s time for me to depart. Though before I go, I must also warn you. Be wary of the number of undead you raise to defend your home.”

“Know that I only do what must be done,” Hammer Strike countered.

Faust nodded. “I trust Harmony will steer you right. Though if you find yourself in need of a little clarity, try the tea.” This time, her smile was stronger. “Don’t worry. It’ll keep.” A light glow enveloped her body as she stretched her wings. “Call me, if you need me, Hammer Strike. I wish you good fortune.” She flapped her wings once, then disappeared in a flash of light.

Hammer Strike stared flatly at the tea tray before standing from the couch and moving toward the hallway.





Hurricane flew at all speed through Unity in a flurried attempt to find Hammer Strike. Recruits were rapidly mobilizing around him, warning civilians, preparing for anything with the current situation.

He finally burst through the door to Hammer Strike’s kitchen, where the Pony in question stood. “Sir!”

Hammer Strike turned to the door, stopping his motion of cutting ingredient to prepare for dinner. “What’s the problem?”

“A group of Unicorns showed up at the gate, ten or so. They have a small group of sellswords with them, and they’re demanding to see you, so that you can ‘present proper tribute.’ I think they plan trouble if we don’t comply.”

Hammer Strike sighed. “All right.” He embedded his knife into the cutting board before calling Ulkrusher to his hoof. “Lead the way.”

By the time Hammer Strike made it to the gate, many of the guard were already present with crossbows loaded and spears at the ready. At Hammer Strike’s signal, the gate was opened to reveal a group of Unicorns wearing some of the flashiest show armor he had ever seen, as well as a mixed squad of Ponies, Gryphons, and even a Roo wearing more economic armor and brandishing weapons.

The leader was a heavily built stallion with a deep blue coat and a straw-like goatee that waggled in the winter winds. His mane fell limply from the bristle port at the top of his helmet to circle the back of his head and drape gracefully down his neck to rest along his shoulder. A runic ring had been placed on his horn to augment his magical field.

“And here I thought Pegasus armor was gaudy,” Hammer Strike commented flatly.

“You dare compare my brothers and I to those air-headed buffoons? They think only of where their next thrill will come from.”

“That would imply I am insulting the Pegasi,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “But at least they’re smart enough to not bother me directly.”

“You are an unclaimed settlement that is without the protection of the mighty Unicorns. You may have built a,” his eyes roved over the walls and the rich lands that clearly laid beyond as he cleared his throat. “Place for yourselves, but without a guiding horn, I assure you these lands will fall to infighting within a year or two.”

“Over seven, and you’re still incorrect.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Go on, say your demands, so I can deny them and get on with my day.”

The noble sniffed. “A joke. How quaint. Now then, in exchange for falling under the protection of Baron Starflight, a small tithe will be expected from every harvest, just enough to feed the protectors and pay the barony for keeping the peace.” The soldier’s face became ashen at first, then hardened into a venomous glare as he jabbed a hoof at a Thestral that flew past. “And you will be expected to expel those savages. They bring nothing but trouble, and they spit on Faust’s name.” He stroked his mane, practically nursing it. “You need only trade with the Barony. We have everything you earth dwellers will ever need.”

“Okay.” Hammer Strike raised a hoof. “Let me stop you right there. Here’s how things are going to go.” His eyes sharpened as he looked scornfully down at the Unicorn. “I’m going to be kind enough to ignore your insults to my subjects.”

“Subjects?” The battle mage, or the poor excuse that passed for one, laughed. “You think yourself to be a noble? You? Now that is rich. The day an Earth Pony claims any throne at all is the day a Unicorn marries him.”

Hammer Strike simply raised his hoof and stomped it on the ground as a ring of blue fire surrounded the Unicorn and his troops. “I would suggest you choose your next words wisely. From where I stand, you have no grounds.”

The Unicorns in the unit all looked warily at the fire. Sweat poured down their flanks from the sudden heat as it leaped joyfully into the metal of their armor. Their leader grit his teeth in frustration and growled. “So, you have a traitor with you. Do you really think that would intimidate us?”

Hammer Strike couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. “That’s about what I expected to come from you. Listen well. You can take your deal and shove it. We have our own work to be doing, and dealing with your problems isn’t on our list of priorities.”

“Our problems?” The Unicorn hissed and retreated when the ring flared at his confrontational approach. “We are trying to save what is left of Pony culture, heritage, and proper society.”

“By force,” Hammer Strike added on. “Which, last I recall, results in infighting. Listen, we can go on and on about your needs, but the fact shall forever remain. We don’t need you lot. Should any come here seeking asylum or a place to call home, we will grant them the same rights as others, and in turn our rules apply.”

The Unicorn’s voice was quiet now as he pawed the frozen turf. “Do you know who I am?”

“No. Nor do I really care.”

The Unicorn was momentarily speechless from the rather flippant response. His mouth dropped, then closed, then dropped again. Finally, his anger restored what incredulity had momentarily displaced. “You dare speak down to your betters? This village truly has fallen the farthest of any I have seen.”

“I’d say it’s more that we’re above you lot,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Are we done here? I was in the middle of making dinner.”

The Unicorn glared at Hamer Strike for a few more seconds before turning around. “For now,” he said. “You have chosen to spur our offer. As such, the land remains free. I will report this development to the proper authorities. Good day.” His horn ignited as he turned and flicked his head toward the rear of the burning circle.

The flames didn’t budge.

He furrowed his brow. “Odd,” he murmured. He charged his horn again, and the ring glowed to brighten the intensity of his magical aura. Once again, he tossed his head with a dramatic flourish. Once again, the flames refused to yield.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Hammer Strike commented as he focused his thaumic energy on the amplifier the Unicorn was wearing, only to reverse its effect. “There you go.”

The ring suddenly flared with the crackle of energy not unlike electricity as the hairs around the base of the horn and some of his mane were singed. He winced as the magic was forcefully cut off, and stumbled back from the recoil, much to his subordinates’ dismay. “Wh-what—?”

“Problem?” Hammer Strike asked as he tapped his hoof to extinguish the flames around the group.

The noble tried to bring his magic to bear again and hissed as the ring reacted violently each time. He quickly removed it, only to discover his magic could flow again uninhibited. He gaped at the ring. “Impossible,” he whispered as he checked the rune work.

“Sir,” one of the Unicorns called.

The leader’s head snapped to attention as he hastily pocketed the ring and cleared his throat. “All right, full march. We have a lot of ground to cover yet,” he said. He flinched as he brought his hoof down on the blackened ring that had been left behind. No fire consumed him. No heat blazed against his armor. He carried on as though nothing had happened. “You may receive another delegation at a later date, earthwalker,” he called over his shoulder. “I recommend you be prepared to receive them.”

“Just a heads up!” Hammer Strike called out. “You send more to come make demands, I’ll order my guards to kill you all on sight.”

The Unicorn didn’t deign to reply, but the Gryphons looked uneasily at the walls and surrounding forest while the Kangaroo brought up the rear.

“Hey, Hurricane.” Hammer Strike turned to the Pegasus. “I’m not joking. If they come again with the same demands and are threatening any of us, they’re a lost cause.”

“So, ask what they want, and if they make demands, fire on sight?”

“Insults and demands. Sometimes they’re just … a nuance. If they’re aggressive and demanding, they’re doubtless going to plan something. Like him.” He gestured to the retreating group. “He’s definitely going to try something in the future.”

“Should I talk to Clover about some kind of alarm system?”

“Definitely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I legitimately was in the middle of making dinner.”





The next few months were peaceful for the most part. Winter melted to spring and spring to summer. The population growth had slowed as less people had been showing up randomly. Trade went well as traveling traders having heard of the town began to show up in numbers looking to buy produce.

Ainz had found and killed the wendigo without issue, though he had yet to find the vampire. His tomb, however, had started to grow significantly as he found the remains of a few bodies the deeper he dug, and thus added to his labor force.

Hurricane had worked with Wall to improve the Earth Pony’s fighting techniques, and together, they designed a regimen for their various Pony recruits to serve as a defense force for Unity. He proved true to his record as a seasoned warrior, and he taught all his troops everything they needed to know to combat a trained Pegasus on the ground or in the air as the situation required.

The Gryphons had been kind enough to help with preparing ballistae and longbows that could be used for an advantage against ground troops and monsters that might try to attack. They also assisted in setting up perimeter alarms to warn of approaches from the ground and air. 

Clover pulled her weight by offering some basic lessons to the Unicorns in the city, so they could defend themselves and project a barrier to help reinforce the walls against attack. As an added security measure, she went about putting up protective wards against foreign teleportation spells and tied it to the magic in Binding’s contracts, so that it would exclude citizens from the ban by recognizing their unique magical signatures.

All in all, things seemed to be going well. But Hammer Strike knew only too well what that meant.

The attack happened suddenly, late one night. Before anyone was even aware of it, several vampires had entered Unity. By the time the first screams were heard, blood had already been spilt.

Hammer Strike had already equipped himself, grabbing the silver sword, and any other bits of equipment he felt were needed before charging out of his house to the source of the problem.

Ainz appeared beside him in a spurt of black flames shortly after he left the house. The lich was covered in mask and gauntlets, and sliung spells that exploded with light in an attempt to draw the creatures out. “Seems they found a weak point in the perimeter.”

“Search for them and find their point of entry,” Hammer Strike ordered.

Ainz was gone almost as soon as the Pony was finished speaking. Clover was busy collecting up citizens nearby and placing them within a glowing circle.

“Clover, keep an eye out for any afflicted or injured!” he called out to her as he continued scanning the area around him for any variables he could work with.

“I’ll do the best I can. Binding headed out to find the herbalists,” she said. “He’s better at healing.”

“If we were attacked by what I think we were attacked by, I don’t know how well healing will work, unless he knows some more … advanced methods.”

“We really need to get a church or something,” Clover called back.

“We’ll start searching later.” Hammer Strike sighed, then muttered, “Damn it, we need better preparations.”

Hurricane and several recruits were attempting to fight a single sallow-looking Pony who fought bare-hooved, breaking shields and swords with what seemed to be little effort. Bolts bounced off it harmlessly.

“Back off, Hurricane. I’ve got this,” Hammer Strike growled.

Hurricane and the rest dropped back as the Earth Pony moved in. The vampire seemed to chuckle as it charged. Hammer Strike raised his blade and slashed. One strike was all it took as the Pony's head separated from its no-longer-undead corpse. Both burst into flame, leaving nothing but ash behind.

“At least that works,” Hammer Strike commented.

Hammerstrike waded through the panic, directing Ponies to Clover as he did. He encountered two more vampires, and the silver sword proved its worth with them as well. As he neared the area where the herbologists’ cabin had been, he saw flames in the distance and the white light of magic.

Poultice Solution and Bella were leaning in by Binding, not even looking at their house as they stared down in horror. Flash after flash followed as Binding attempted spell after spell. His face was made all the more pale and ravaged as his horn flickered desperately.

Despite his best efforts, nothing was working. By the light of the nearby fire, Hammer Strike looked over the Poultice’s shoulder, and there lay the sight that would haunt him for the rest of his days. There, in the snow, covered in blood, lay an unmoving foal.

Hammer Strike stopped in his tracks as he scanned over the scene before letting out the breath he was holding. There were no vampires nearby.

At least, … not yet.

“Sprout, come on, love. It’s daddy. Open those eyes for daddy,” poultice cooed through heavy sobs. “You know daddy loves those big eyes.” He couldn’t bear it after that. The stallion broke down hard.

Bella didn’t even get that far. Her wail tore through the night air. The flames that rose from their house seemed almost to flinch as she fell onto the corpse. Blood matted her fur, but she didn’t care as she brushed the foal’s mane. Her baby girl was gone.

And it had happened under Hammer Strike’s watch.

“Ainz!” Hammer Strike growled out into the night.

The lich answered his call immediately. “I managed to kill two more over i—” He stopped when he looked down. There was no need to ask what had happened here.

“Hunt them down. All of them,” Hammer Strike ordered as he looked to the group once more. Binding wrapped a consoling hoof over Poultice’s neck. Whatever words of comfort he may have offered were lost in the roar of fury that surged in Hammer Strike’s ears. “But don’t you dare kill them. I won’t grant them such a mercy.”

“I take it you mean aside from self defense?” Ainz clarified.

“Correct.”

“Shall I ... do what is necessary to keep the child from rising again?”

Hammer Strike shook his head. “I’ll handle this. Don’t give them an inch of room to escape.”

“I may have to employ demons for that.”

“Do it.”

Ainz said nothing. He merely lifted his hand and vanished. Moments later, Hammer Strike’s augments alerted him to several rifts opening around Unity, and the entities that crawled out from said rifts. But he didn’t care. If it took the forces of hell to keep his people safe, then the devil had better just tell him where to sign.

Hammer Strike turned back to the two grieving parents and approached slowly. The two parents’ distraught faces were made all the worse by what he knew had to be done. “Binding.” He sighed. “Go. I want you to help focus on town security.”

Binding nodded and rose slowly to his hooves. “I’ll … make sure to bring any other survivors to Clover.” He looked back one last time at the grieving family, then pushed up his glasses, set his shoulders, and strode away with his cloak billowing behind him. A grim expression had replaced his usual calm demeanor.

“Poultice, Bella.” Hammer Strike drew near the two. “I … I need you two to go to the town center.”

“Sprout?” Bella asked as she looked at her daughter. Hammer Strike knew what she was trying to say.

“...I’m sorry. Divine above, I am, but I can’t bring the dead back to life, and,” he sighed. “We’ll need to properly tend to her, or she’ll come back as something worse.”

“Come, love.” Poultice heaved a few times as he wrestled with his sops and draped a foreleg over her. “Let’s do what he asks.”

Bella stumbled to her hooves and leaned heavily on her husband. “Will we at least be able to bury her?”

“I … I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try everything I can.”

“Come along, Bella. Let’s go.” The two walked slowly away from the scene, leaning heavily onto one another for support.

Hammer Strike stared at Sprout’s corpse for a minute before growling out at the sounds around him. The crackling. The burning. And the constant roar.

At once, he swiped his hoof off to the side and extinguished the house fire. Then he took a shuddering breath as he steadied himself. He coated Sprout’s body using his thaumaturgy, being careful to alter her biological matter to render it completely inert. There would be no brain, no heart, no muscle, no vital organs. By the time he was finished, the body was one mass that could never be animated again.

With his grim work complete, he took claim over a blanket in the nearby vicinity and carefully wrapped the remains.

He let out his breath and reined in his emotions as he looked to the night sky. “I’ll make them regret everything. Every single choice they have ever made,” he swore. And he would keep that promise.





“So, anyone know why he called this meeting?” Clover asked. Once again, they were seated at a table, though this one was in a new room of the cabin. It had been set up recently and served as a sort of board room for the self-proclaimed lord. Six days had passed since the attack. In that time, the only time the three had seen Hammer Strike had been either when he’d come to receive reports from Ainz or to ask the three magic users specific questions regarding their staves.

“I am as stumped as you,” Ainz admitted.

“Given our leader’s grim resolve, drive, and focus, I would assume it has to do with his current aim of defense against and ultimately vanquishing any future foes of the undead persuasion,” Binding said. “To that end, I can think of only a few more immediate reasons that would make sense.”

“Until we know where they are, it doesn’t seem like there is much else we can do but shore up existing defenses,” Ainz observed.

“And that is my plan,” Hammer Strike commented as he stepped into the room.

“So, why did you need to see us?” Clover asked.

“I … need to do something with you two first.” Hammer Strike directed his attention to Binding and Clover.

“As ever, we are at your disposal,” Binding said.

“To ensure that nothing be left to chance, I need to issue a further contract between us.”

“A further contract?” Clover asked.

“To ensure nothing be left to chance, upon my authority as Thaumaturge, I issue this verbal contract,” Hammer Strike started as thaumic fire surrounded him. Ainz’s eyes seemed to flash as he sat up straighter, arms crossed expectantly. “Know that I hold no ill will, should this be declined. To keep your soul from swaying, no matter the creatures we face, I shall take claim over it. You will be unable to act against me through any means, so long as this contract is valid. In return, I bestow upon you two a connection to my power. To amplify your magics, and grant you new heights to reach. Lastly, you will be granted a new piece of equipment, something more powerful than this world could recreate freely. Should you accept this contract, these will be yours, and you, mine. If our paths do sour and our ways sway, you may end this contract by returning the piece of equipment to me.” His eyes focused on Binding and Clover. “Do you accept these terms?”

“What about if we die?” Clover asked, clearly shaken by the idea.

“Your soul will be released to the afterlife destined for your paths, come heaven or hell.”

“A most intriguing proposition,” Binding said. “I assume we won’t become undead like Ainz?”

“Not unless you extend the contract to last beyond your mortal life of your own free will.”

Binding shrugged. “I have no intention of doing so at this time, but I am intrigued by this process of yours. And I can’t very well serve you efficiently if I don’t accept what you offer, now can I?” He smiled as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and the light reflected off the glass to cast an emotionless white in place of his orbs.

“I—that is, you said we can’t be tempted by anything?” Clover asked.

“No dark arts, demons, or anything between can sway you from my course.” He sighed. “To put it simply, they can’t sway a soul that is already owned.”

“Star Swirl wouldn’t like this,” Clover mumbled, then let out a heavy sigh of her own. “Very well. I swear to your terms.”

“Then our deal is made.” Hammer Strike held his hoof out toward the two as thaumic energy surrounded them for a few seconds before fading. “And in return, I feel comfortable about this.”

He swiped his hoof to the side as three staves appeared before the group present. Before any of them could reach out, each focus was coated in thaumic fire for a second before extinguishing.

The staff that appeared before ainz was easily the strangest, made completely out of some unknown alloy. It was full of twists and turns, odd angles and curves, and a couple of places that seemed like they’d been outrightly bent. Near the center, three water aspect crystals were embedded. The top formed a ringed golden bowl with seven snakeheads looking over the lip in all directions. Each mouth was open, and each held a separate aspect crystal. The moment Ainz touched it, a mass of darkness shot from the top and writhed for a moment before vanishing. Hammer Strike still wasn’t sure why the handle took its shape. He’d tried several times to straighten it, only for it to return to its awkward form. Still, as Ainz grasped it, it looked comfortable in his hands.

Binding’s staff was also odd, but not as chaotic as Ainz’s. It had a wooden handle carved from the root of Yggdrasil itself. The wood was still alive, from what Hammer Strike could tell. It ended at the bottom with a steel cap with a gold insignia near the front. The cap terminated into a long thin blade. Both the staff and the blade had a small diamond-shaped hole near the top. The top of the staff looked as though it had a large yellow and black device serving as a focal point, contained by a magic rune made out of metal clamped to both sides. The moment Binding picked it up in his magic, white light burst from the top and formed a maze of beams and streaks of light that, when finished deploying, arched over his head like a scythe blade.

Clover’s had a wooden handle as well, though it was slightly thicker than Binding’s and traced with vines of steel that had been treated to color green. At the end, a diamond-shaped ring was fixed onto the shaft. It was obviously very dense, as it handed a significant weight to the staff and could act as a blunt weapon if needed. The top transferred from wood and steel to what appeared to be emerald forming a stem-like design. The stem at the top formed a bulb. White spikes stuck out from the emerald, each an aspect crystal that pulled together to form a petal-like design. The entire head looked like a clover flower in bloom. It glowed with a soft warm right as Clover picked it up, and small shamrocks sprouted from the wood along the center.

When the three picked up their staves, a small wave of force erupted from the spot as their magic grew. The wave, Hammer Strike would later find out, moved through all of Unity, stopping just outside the borders.

“Take this power.” Hammer Strike looked at all three present. “And use it to the fullest. Defend Unity in its times of need, and ensure nothing of this level happens again.”

“This is amazing,” Clover said as she waved the staff a few times. “You only just gave it to me and it already feels like part of me”

“It’s connected to your very soul, something difficult to manage by standard means.”

“Curious,” Binding said as he eyed the scythe. “It looks almost as though it were made of quills or feathers of some sort. How appropriate.” He tapped the floor with the staff. The scythe retracted, and the staff became inert once again. “I look forward to using it in the future.” His gaze hardened. “There are many of those creatures who deserve payback and release.”

“This is amazing.” Ainz chuckled. “With this staff, I can already see so many new possibilities.”

“So long as you serve me, I will grant you whatever I can to keep everything running straight,” Hammer Strike commented. “Anything within my realm of possibility.”

“I won’t waste anything,” Ainz promised.

“And we will do our best to live up to your trust,” Binding said. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Clover said, still examining the staff. “Thank you.”

“Use them well to protect our people. That’s all I ask for now.”