//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: The Crown of Eques // by PTBonesbeard //------------------------------// "This was it, the edge of the map." Peatmoss said to himself Looking up from the map, he saw in the distance the town of Southrim. Folding His now useless map and stuffed it into the breast pocket of his hooded tunic. Peatmoss was a light brown pegasus buck with a ruddy green mane and tail. he had grown up in a town north of Canterlot called Wellshod. His family consisted of his mother, father, four older brothers, and three sisters. The day that he got his cutie mark, a picture of a puff of cloud, propelled by a breeze, his brothers did what all older brothers did. They gave him the nickname, Fart Flank. This was the reason he never told anypony his cutie mark story and yes, it still aggravated him to no end when they called him that. He knew it was just a gesture of familial affection, but it still got under his skin. But now all that was behind him. After five Long years of working with the local weather teams, he had saved up over four hundred bits for his adventure. Wishing his family and co-workers a fond farewell, he struck out on his own. With a firm belief that no matter where he went Celestia and Luna would watch over him. The first few days of travel went better than expected. Being no stranger to staying in the air for long periods of time, travel by Pegasus wing was a literal breeze. When he did encounter any strong head winds, he was perfectly content to land and travel by hoof. Many ponies he had talked to about his travel plans advised him that the further one went north the colder it got. So he had wisely left home in late spring. All along his path, there was plenty of places to get a cool drink or fresh new grass stalks to eat. Though after a few days he had to admit it was beginning to grow dull. When Peatmoss finally reached the foothills of the Sugartop Mountains, he decided he had earned a break and rented a room in a Tavern. The next day he splurged some of his savings on a matching green stripped hat and scarf. He had thought for a minute of getting the matching socks, but he felt that he would just look silly. After eating a meal of real food, he perchaced a plaid wool blanket, dried fruits and vegetables, a canteen, and a bag of hard candies. Sucking on one of the latter, he bought a ticket for the train that went around the Sugartop Mountain range. this part of his trip was by far the most fun. There's nothing quite like the peaceful relaxing feeling of sitting back and watching the mountain scenery pass by. The calming clickity clack of the trainweels on the track, and familiarizing with your fellow travelers. On the third day of the train ride, one passenger, a dark brown and white griffin, struck up a conversation with him. He told Peatmoss he was crazy for traveling north to the Crown. Said it was full of warring griffin clans and crazy starving ponies. Told Peat there are monsters there that would gobble up spring chicks like him. That it would be better for him to return too Central Equestria and be thankful for the sunny land. Undeterred, Peatmoss tried to explain his compulsion to travel to the very top of the world. To break out of the dull monotony of equestrian life. To accomplish great feats and find his fortune. "Tisk" the griffin said "Mark my words Peaty, if you don't turn back now, only misery and misfortune await you on your journey too the north." After which, he would speak no more of it. After getting off the train, Peat put the griffin's warning out of his mind and stubbornly continued his travels north. The farther he went, the more sparse civilization became. There were no more fields of fresh green grass. The plants had turned tough and wiry. Sturdier plants for a colder climate. The winds had turned a bit chillier then what thought it should be for early summer. Abandoning his flight to conserve body heat, he wrapped his blanket around himself and plodded on thru the barren wastes that had at some time long ago been the Crystal Empire. If his geography was any good. The bare tundra stretched on for miles, ungulateing in gentle hills and valleys. The warning from the griffin echoed in his mind, but Peatmoss trotted on. following the road on his map that twisted and swayed with little ryme or reason. He hoped it wasn't taking him in circles. The nights were cold and uncomfortable. No shelters left the bitter breeze to gnaw at his coat through the blanket and hat. By the third day he spotted the jagged line of a mountain range breaking up the horizon. Renewing his hope that this road was leading him to some town or village. By midday, the mountains on the horizon had grown in size, stretching as far to the east and west as he could see. Ruined house foundations begin to show here and there along the road. they were strange, low walls, seemingly carved from solid, crystalline stone. As the sun set, he meet a zebra trader heading south. Peatmoss eagerly traded for a heavier aquamarine wool tunic, hood, and cape. He would have wanted to get a green set, but the trader pointed out that they were made from a thinner material. So he opted for warmth, over fashion. Upgrading his sack he had been using, for a proper saddle bag. He also bought a loaf of heavy fruit cake, a bundle of fresh carrots, and two small ceramic jugs of sweet honey wine. Which the zebra said was called mead. He wasn't one to drink alcoholic beverages, save for special occasions like Harthswarming and new years. But his sense of personal freedom away from family and peers thrilled him to indulgence. Besides, this was a new life. He felt he deserved a reward for the progress he made. So he found a stone wall to shelter against, and eat, drank, and made merry into the night. Sateing an appetite he didn't know he had until now. He awoke late the next morning feeling a bit dried out. So he downed half his canteen, which the trader had graciously refilled the day before, and snacked down his last two carrots. Carefully he wrapped up the leftover fruitcake and put the stopper back into the half empty mead jug. Rearranging his things, he managed to pack it in beside the other full one. With renewed vigor, struck out the fire of adventure burning back to life fiercely. Taking flight, he propelled himself faster along the road towards the mountain range. The drag of his heavier clothes soon strained his wings so as he reached the edge of the foothills he landed at a crossroads. looking up at the road signs he read. Pointing west, Yakistan. Pointing east, Griffin stone. Pointing north, Crown rim. Checking his map to make sure he was on track, Peatmoss forged on up the incline towards the silhouette of the distant town. In the late afternoon sun, he left the foothills the road took a steep curve up towards the walled town. Nestled between to tall peaks, it appeared wider at the top and bottom then in the middle. Sort of like the corset of a mare who was trying in vain to appear twenty pounds lighter. As he drew closer to the gates, he took notice of several griffins and a pegasus perched on a wooden frame with ropes dangling from the crossbeam. They watched him forbodingly as he passed. Peatmoss paused and waved to them. "Hello there!" he called up to them. One of the griffins took flight and disappeared behind the town wall. The others suddenly found something else more interesting to stare at in any direction but his. "Perhaps they don't speak Equestrian common?" he muttered to himself. Then he remembered his Traveler's pocket primer. Equin to Griffin edition. Digging it out of his saddle bag, he flipped to common phrases. "Uh, Gootentag?" he tried, looking up expectantly. Several of them turned angry glares toward him. One actually turned his back. "Ok, ok. I get the hint" he muttered quietly to himself as he troted quickly towards the gate. The shadows of the mountains around him were making it harder to read in the waning light of the evening, so he was squinting at the book as he approached the town gate house. He attempted to sound out another common griffin greeting, when he was interrupted by a griffin clearing his throat. Peatmoss stopped and looked up from his book to see the town guard barring his way with a spear. He wore a black and dark purple tabard ever a quilted, padded armor. On his head he wore a metal hat, topped with a plume of matching black and purple hair. "What business do you have in the rim pony?" the griffin guard asked sternly, cutting him off from attempting the earlier greeting. "Uh. Oh! personal travel." The guard cocked his eyebrow questioningly. "Er, Tourist." he tried again hopefully. "Vas is das?" said another griffin guard, poking his head out of a side door beyond the portcullis. The guard in front of Peat said something back in a fast griff speak. Too fast for Peat to even attempt to translate, save for the last word in common. "tourist" "Tour rist?" asked the second. "Ya" replied the first. They held a speedy conversation. After a minute or so, they come to a consensus and turned their attention back to Peatmoss. "Tourist tax, uh..." said the first, glancing up at the sky, as if plukking the number out of the air. "four pieces." he finishes, holding out his hand expectantly. Peat eyes him doubtfully before reaching back to scoop out four bits and hoofs them over to the guards waiting palm. The guard retracts his hand and eyes them strangely. His companion plucks one up and sticks it into his beak, chewing on it experimentally. Peat watches in confusion as they scrutinize the money. "Equestrian bits?" the first asks. "Don't you have anything more real?" "What do you mean, more real!? Those bits are solid gold." he answered, aghast. Satisfied, the guard stood aside and waved him on. As he passed, the second guard jabbed at his saddle bag with the butt of his spear. The bits inside gave an answering golden jingle. Peatmoss stopped and shot him an offended glare. Mouth agape at the intrusion. "Reich!" said the guard. Completely ignoring the look as the two grinned at each other. Then, as if he didn't even exist, they ducked back into the gatehouse and closed the door. Giving an angry snort, Peat walked on into the town. Just as the veiw of the outside suggested, Crownrim's streets were squeezed thin. The building's first floors were thin enough to allow for streets, but the second and third floors were wider, causing the alleys to look more like tunnels. The main steet was wide enough for about three ponies to walk abreast, but were cinched at points because of the house-front stalls every few yards. It appeared that during the day, the street would be packed with sellers, trying to drain any visitors of money long before they got to the other end of town. But now at this hour, it was empty. Any wares were ether gone, or nailed down. In some stalls, literally. Above him, the houses loomed over the street, their crooked stain-glass windows glowering down at him. in some spots, the roofs nearly touched the one across from them. At least with the closeness of the houses, made the air warm and humid. So Peatmoss pushed back his hood and scratched at his itching mane. "I hope I didn't get chiggers, or some other parasite when I partied last night." he thought to himself. Satisfied with the change in temperature, he shed the cape and Rolled it up, packing it away in his saddle bag. "Excuse me sir." he called, to a griffin coming down street in a straw colored tunic and red fezz. "Could you give me directions to the local inn?" Hardly breaking his stride, the griffin palmed Peat's face and moved him aside. Watching him walking away and turn down a side street. Peatmoss growled in annoyance and rubbed his face. With a sigh of frustration, he continued up the street watching the signs as he went. Then he spotted two earthpony guards chatting just inside a side alley. They both wore a matching pony variant of the guards at the gate. He decided to interrupt their conversation to ask for directions. "Excuse me sirs." They scrabbled to attention before looking him up and down. "What do you want? can't you see we're busy!" "I don't want to be a bother but, I was wondering where I can find the inn?" "What, are you new in town?" snapped the first guard eyeing him with suspicion. "Didn't you hear?" said the second. "The inn's," the first guard elbows second, cutting him off. "Up this street, in the plaza, too the right." the first finishes for his friend who scrunches his muzzle. The first just answering with a "shut up" glare "Ok thanks. That's all I needed. have a good night." Peat says with a wave as he trots off, a prickly feel starting in his mane. The two guards watch him go a few yards before stepping away from their post to follow. Peat catches the sound of hoofsteps behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots them keeping pace a ways back. He may be getting a bit paranoid, but that interaction with them had a weird vibe to it. Getting the feeling they were following him, he quickened his pace. He soon reached an open empty square devoid of any residents. Come to think of it, besides the griffin he ran into just inside the gate, he had yet to see any other citizens. Looking around the open area, he spotted two guards wareing red armor blocking an entrance to the square to his left. Then two more, entering just across the plaza from him. "Ok. This is getting weird." he thought to himself as he gave his mane a scratch. Turning to the right, he spoted a sign for the inn on front of a large building with big, diamond pattern windows. Making a beeline for it, he saw two more guards enter from the other side. Stopping at the front doors, he turned around to see. Yup all four streets into the plaza were now blocked with guards. They all looked like they were waiting. Expecting something. Peatmoss's mane crawled. Suddenly, there was shouts and sounds of commotion from inside the inn behind him. Peat turned just in time to see the doors burst open. A flood of griffins and ponies in patchwork armor poured out, bowling him over. He tried to get up, but several walked right over him. He covered his head as best he could as the air around him was filled with yells and stamping limbs. He cowered there, hoping the crowd would pass over. But then a set of talons dug into his collar and saddle belt. With a feeling of helpless terror, he was lifted bodily and carried like a bag of luggage along with the rabble. "Let go! Let me go!" he shouted. batting at the offending claw. Craning his head around and glaring up at the big griffin carrying him. He had dark blue head feathers, and rusty white colorings from the base of his black beak, to his neck. He glanced down at Peatmoss in surprise, as if he had suddenly appeared in his talons. Peat bucked out at the griffin's chest just as he released him, causing Peat to go careening out of the crowd. Tumbling to a stop a few feet away from them. Flipping to his back, he scooted away and saw they were all wearing a familiar shade of aquamarine colored tabards over their patchy mail. "I said halt!" shouted someone behind him. Peatmoss turned to see a griffin guard winding up with an iron mace. "Wait! I'm just" he cried, as the mace swung. It cannoned into the left side of his jaw, nearly spinning his head off his neck. Falling to the stone paving, he cradled his face. The taste of blood flooded his senses, and felt his jaw move in places it shouldn't. Thru the haze of dulling thought, he felt a paw press hard into his barrel. Gazing up thru the red tint of pain, he saw the griffin raise the mace to strike again, but syrupy unconsciousness took him before the blow could fall. Level up! Stamina increase + 10. New perk (Light armor). (Agile Defender). Increase armor rating when weareing light armor barding by +20%. Debuff added! (Broken jaw). Until removed, you suffer -50% to speech checks. While in effect, your standing with the factions of Crown remain the same regardless of whether you pass or fail speech checks.