Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Fourth Month, Sixteenth Day, Celestial Calendar
"You're sure you feel up to translation?" Fyrenn looked down at the white Pegasus with concern.
IJ glowered.
Despite the fact that she was holding a small block of ice, wrapped in a towel, to her forehead with one hoof, she still looked both menacing and frustrated.
"Stop asking if I'm 'up to it' and just give me the sheets. We're wasting enough time as it is."
Fyrenn shrugged, "Touché." He reached into his pack and extracted the decoded sheets of paper gingerly, setting them in a stack on the table in front of IJ. She promptly splayed them out into a row with her free hoof and leaned in closer.
Carradan peered over her shoulder expectantly, "Well?"
She pierced him with a stare midway between patronizing, and disbelieving, "You want to take two big steps back and let me work unmolested? It's been a few years since I had to read Changeling, so I expect this will take a moment."
The salmon Pegasus slumped back into his seat. Fyrenn sighed, relieved that IJ had not reacted more violently, and paused to take in his surroundings once more.
The Barracks of the Cloudsdale City Watch comprised the most defensively-minded structure he had seen in the Equestrian Nation. The exterior wall was made entirely out of thunderheads, which roiled with a constant inner energy that guards could tap, and direct into devastating lightning strikes against any assaulting foe.
The internal structures were made of a form of reinforced cloud, characterized by a peculiar stippled pattern, and a mesmerizing grayish-blue color. A permanent rainbow, which apparently had been Thaumatically tuned to boost ambient magic levels, adorned the crest of the tiered castle-like structure.
Inside, the building was reminiscent of traditional Pegasus architecture, but Fyrenn had spotted more than a few militaristic features as well, such as arrow holes in dividing walls, a distinct lack of stairs designed to impede non-flighted invaders, and alcoves for defenders to duck into should the opportunity present itself.
Skye, Varan, and Kephic had gone with the Captain of the Watch to an inner chamber to make a full report about the previous night's battle. Fyrenn had initially worried that he would have to carry Skye throughout the entire city, but she had wordlessly conjured some form of temporary cloudwalking spell when they initially landed. Her propensity for useful and unconventional spells never ceased to impress.
Since the end of the tussle with the Drones, the Unicorn had exchanged only monosyllables with IJ, and that state of affairs suited Fyrenn just fine. He had no desire to be present when the inevitable fight finally broke out.
After several moments of silence, made more comfortable than awkward by pure exhaustion, IJ spoke, "You were right; It is time sensitive information. And I expect that any chance of it being useful to you on its own has passed. It's a series of attack instructions. They probably had them adjusted within hours of realizing these copies had been stolen. You said you found these on a Diamond Dog train?"
Fyrenn nodded slowly, "We think the clan that runs a spur of the northern railway are acting as couriers. We also found a small herd of Ponies... Locked away in cages."
IJ rifled through the missives on the tablet absently, seemingly unperturbed by the revelation, "A Hive has to keep its population fed. These days, thanks to you Gryphons, that's harder than it's ever been. The Ponies were probably being delivered for extra payment. Judging by what these documents say, the attack orders focus on causing fear and confusion. Transferring 'acquired commodities' is merely a bonus."
Carradan shuddered. Fyrenn's face fell; A combination of frustration, melancholy, and anger twisting his beak and ears downwards as he spoke.
"We had thought, at one point, that the PER might have been responsible for all this... I'll admit that the Changelings being the hidden hoof makes a certain sort of sense... But why now? Why run a campaign of distraction and terror on Equestrian and Gryphon settlements now? In preparation for a larger attack?"
IJ nodded, "Most likely. When I was last part of the Hive, the predominant consensus was that we needed to adapt our fighting style as a result of our famine, overpopulation, and your growing propensity for meddling with our affairs. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that we've changed over to asymmetrical warfare based on sowing fear and confusion."
Stan grumbled, "How comforting."
Fyrenn sighed, and sat back on his haunches, "So there's nothing else new to be learned from these?"
IJ raised an eyebrow, "Did I say that?"
The red Gryphon sat up, ears perking attentively. The former Changeling inclined her head, "There is nothing more to be gained from the obvious contents of the messages. But for a Changeling, there is a wealth of buried information."
Carradan leaned forward once more, infringing on IJ's bubble of personal space and prompting her to pierce him with another icy glare. The reporter-turned-adventurer didn't seem to care, "Soooo? These are gonna be worth it after all?!"
IJ shifted slightly to gain more space, shoving her icepack into Carradan's hooves, before applying both of her own to the sheets, spreading them out until they were all individually visible.
She glanced up at Fyrenn, "The changeling 'Hive' often refers to the whole of us, just as the 'Kingdoms' refer to all of you. It also refers to the joined Hive mind. But for the sake of organization, there are divisions and a hierarchy within *The* Hive. Geographically and logistically, a specific settlement of Changelings can be referred to as *a* Hive."
Carradan cocked his head slightly, "Huh..." He dropped the icepack, failing to even take notice as it passed through the floor and vanished to parts unknown. He instead buried his muzzle in his saddlebags, finally emerging triumphantly with a notepad and quill, "This is good stuff! Next time we're Earthside I can probably get some kinda exclusive publishing deal!"
IJ and Fyrenn both stared on in a mixture of disdain, confusion, and mild annoyance. Carradan clutched the quill firmly in his muzzle, waving a hoof and speaking around the feathery material, "Well? Go on!"
IJ huffed, and returned her gaze to the paper, "As I was saying; Every individual Hive has its own idiosyncrasies, particularly the old ones. Organizationally, each Hive has its own Queen and a command structure that flows down from her. All Hive Queens in turn report to the Over-Queen. *The* Queen. Including her own Hive, which is usually the largest in the empire. Each Hive has, among other things, a unique..."
The Pegasus tilted her head and paused, trying to find the words to frame the concept, "A unique... 'Signature.' In its writing, its thoughts... The signature even gets impressed, over time, onto the Hive's Drones, making it easy to identify their origin the instant you examine their minds."
Fyrenn's visage brightened, "So you can tell us which Hive these came from?"
IJ tapped one hoof against the table. A small part of Fyrenn's brain idly wondered how the furniture kept from falling through the floor, as she spoke, "Yes. I can. These missives originate from the Razor Spires Hive."
Carradan's eyes widened, "You can recognize this 'signature' with that much certainty?"
IJ raised an eyebrow, "It was almost as easy to recognize as the signature on the Drones last night. That really surprises you? It was my old Hive. I would be quite remiss if I couldn't recognize the signature I grew up with."
Fyrenn glared, "You didn't think to mention this earlier?"
"Was it that important?" The white Pegasus tossed her mane slightly, blowing a few stray locks of blue hair out of her eyes.
The Gryphon pinched the bridge of his beak in-between thumb and index talons, "IJ... *everything* is important at this stage. Every single tiny detail. Is there anything else that you've been sitting on that might conceivably be important? Anything at all?"
She shrugged, "The letters make allusion to a large attack happening in a few days' time. But we already knew that."
Fyrenn groaned. The sound gradually turned to an angry, frustrated hiss, "No. We knew a major attack was *imminent.* Now you're telling me we know that it's going to be within a week?"
IJ nodded, "Less than that."
Carradan winced, "How major?"
The ex-Changeling raised both eyebrows, "Let me put it in perspective for your small herbivorous brain. The Over-Queen expects enemy casualties to be, and I quote, 'innumerable millions.' "
Fyrenn stiffened, "This changes things. Do you think they will be mobilizing the Hives?"
IJ glowered, "For an assault of such a scale? Are you truly asking such a stupidly obvious question?"
The Gryphon was too busy getting a grasp on the repercussions of her words to take offense. He murmured to himself, "We have to dispatch messages immediately..."
"Messages?" Kephic's voice came from across the chamber. Fyrenn glanced up to see that he, Varan, Skye, and the Captain of the Watch had returned.
He nodded as his siblings approached, "IJ translated the sheafs. The news is not good. The Changelings appear to be planning a massive all-out assault within half a week. These initial attacks are a distraction tactic to pull attention and troops away from what will become the main front."
Varan hummed softly, "That is indeed troubling. We must dispatch messengers at once, both to Canterlot, and to our own Capital." With his characteristic bluntness, he turned and made his way out of the room without further prelude.
Fyrenn turned to Kephic, and inhaled slowly, "Given what she's told me? I think we have to pursue this. Part of her final mission was to acquire samples of our DNA... 'lifecode,' to return to the Hive for dissemination. It can't possibly be coincidence that Drones from her old Hive show up to kidnap her on the eve of a major assault, ostensibly coordinated from the same Hive."
Kephic inclined his head, "Far too much to be coincidental. I agree. I expect Varan will too. We're probably the closest Warriors. It falls to us to scout, and make an early report if possible."
Fyrenn sighed, "Every little bit of pre-battle information helps."
Carradan shuddered, "Venturing into Hive territory... Not the week's activity I'd been planning on when I got up this morning."
Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, turning his head to treat the Pegasus to wry glance, "You didn't get up this morning. We didn't get any sleep last night at all."
Stan groaned, "Don't *remind* me. I'm runnin' on fumes here... And I could use some food..."
Kephic nodded, "As pressing as time is, I expect we will all wish to take several hours to sleep and eat."
Skye raised a hoof, "Um.. excuse me? Helooo? Resident Unicorn reporting; I'm not exactly equipped for a plunge into the heart of the swarm here. Neither is miss-priss over there."
IJ grunted, "Vulgarities and stupidities notwithstanding; We are both in need of armor if you are planning to take us with you."
Fyrenn glanced between the glowering females, "Well I suppose you have a choice Skye. No one is making you come. IJ? We need your expertise. And I don't expect you're keen to pass up the chance to follow up on last night's abduction attempt."
The ex-Drone's expression spoke for itself, in the affirmative. Skye huffed, "You seriously think I'd back out of this now? Besides, if I don't come along she's liable to throttle you all in your sleep."
Carradan interjected before the backbiting could continue, "Ahhh... Just a moment... How come no one asked me what *I* want?"
Kephic snorted, "Because even though you'd never admit it aloud, you wouldn't turn down the chance at a healthy dose of peril. Especially not one that is bound to lead to a good story."
The salmon Pegasus glared good-naturedly, mumbling under his breath. Fyrenn thought he detected a hint of a suppressed grin pulling at his muzzle.
The red Gryphon turned to the Captain of the Guard, who had stood stone-faced during the entire exchange, "I hate to impose. But do you think you could lend us two suits of armor?"
The Captain huffed. He was a brawny male Pegasus, his stature all the more impressive, for a Pony, with the added effect of his helmet crest.
"The armor of the Cloudsdale City Watch is a uniform unto itself. The design is as old as the first Pegasus tribes. We do not hand it idly over to those who are... Unqualified."
IJ pierced the stallion with a killing glare, and Skye snorted, pawing at the cloud beneath her. Before either enraged Pony could speak, Kephic interjected quickly.
"They are about to accompany us on an extremely dangerous mission deep into enemy territory, on behalf of both your kind and ours. We are pressed sorely for time. Its not as if we can simply fly all the way to Canterlot once more, or wait for a blacksmith to turn out new sets of gear. They need protection, and you have it."
The stallion glared wordlessly for several moments, before rolling his eyes, "I see I am left with no choice."
Fyrenn sighed, "Glad you see it that way."
As IJ and Skye made their way across the room, the latter continued to glare at the Captain, "Yeah... For your sake. Lead on Captain tight-britches."
As the Stallion silently escorted the two mares through a side door into the courtyard, Kephic inhaled slowly, "I think it's probably---"
Fyrenn clapped him between the shoulder blades, "Not it." "
Kephic raised an eyebrow, "...Best that one of us go with them... What is 'not it'?"
Carradan chuckled, "It means he called dibs."
"Dibs?"
Fyrenn laughed, "It means *you* get to go play peacekeeper while I sit here and relax."
Kephic glowered, "Not fair."
The red Gryphon snorted as he flopped down onto a particularly puffy segment of cloud, and rested his head on his crossed forelegs, "Your point? Have fun dear brother. I'll say a prayer for your safety."
As the speckled Gryphon loped away to catch up with his charges, Fyrenn whistled, "I wouldn't want to be him. Those two Ponies are like a brick of C4 on a short fuse."
Carradan chuckled wryly, "You wanna know what scares me more than anything? What if they end up being friends before all this is through? I'm scared outa my fetlocks they'll be callin' each other 'sis' by the end of this week."
Fyrenn opened one eye lazily, "Maybe so... But I'll just bet that either way, they're going to call each other a good few other, much nastier things, first."
Carradan nodded, "Yeah..." He paused thoughtfully, before nudging one of Fyrenn's wings with a hoof, "So which of em' do you think I have a better shot with?"
The red Gryphon raised his head, and allowed his expression to speak for itself.
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
March 15th, Gregorian Calendar
Kaliss Manufacturing provided nearly a third of the computer hardware in use by the Earthgov military. The company's primary chip factory, stationed in an area of New York once known as Saugerties, sprawled over nearly thirty hectares of land.
Most of the facility was run by machines.; Automated assembly lines controlled by two hundred AI, and their subsidiary interface routines. In the early 2100's the company had begun to put skilled laborers back onto the production lines, however, to further augment production speed as the need for computing devices continued to rise exponentially and unabated.
Klarien stared down at the extra-large DaTab strapped to his left foreleg. According to contract records, the Saugerties facility had produced the only batch of prototype chips that matched the metallurgical analysis of the bomb fragments.
The green Dragon glanced over to his 'partner.' Taranis seemed busy examining the façade of the central warehouse structure. Klarien wasn't sure how he felt about being paired with the cobalt Dragon. He knew for sure how he felt about the fact that Taranis was in charge.
'Displeased' barely covered it.
"So... Are we going in?" Klarien glanced around the parking lot as he waited for a response. The scene struck him as almost comical. Two Dragons standing calmly in the middle of the pavement, surrounded by cars, staring up at a warehouse.
Taranis nodded, "Stay silent. I will speak, you will observe."
As the pair began to lumber towards the facility's main entrance, Klarien glowered, "Is that wise? You don't even sound like a Convert. You sound like a native... Or someone who has been a Convert for a long while."
The blue Dragon nodded a second time, "And that is to our advantage. Aside from that, I have professional experience in questioning techniques."
After a short moment of silence, Klarien indulged his curiosity, "So why *do* you talk that way? You sound almost like a native... But you haven't been a convert that long... Right? None of us have been."
Taranis raised an eyebrow scale, "Did you get this erroneous information from a file? Or did you simply assume facts not in evidence?"
The green Dragon knit his brow, "So... You've been a convert for...?"
"Some time. Long enough to come to appreciate the Draconic way of speech and thought."
The conversation came to an abrupt end as they arrived at the factory's doors. The aperture was not ideally suited to a Dragon, but was still large enough to admit the pair, one after the other.
While the interior space had not been designed with giant reptiles in mind, it was cavernous enough that it felt quite roomy, even to Taranis. The front lobby-like portion of the building was partitioned off from the factory floors by an enormous floor-to-ceiling plexiglass window, reinforced with crisscrossing alloy beams.
The ceiling was also transparent, and held up by a similar girder structure that had an almost geodesic pattern.
The Dragons' entry instantly garnered the full attention of every person in the lobby; The receptionist, a janitor, and several security guards.
The latter moved to place their hands on their side-arms, before quickly thinking better of the idea. It dawned on them almost immediately that their cheap civilian chemical-reaction driven pistol rounds had no chance of penetrating Draconic scales, but every certainty of provoking the owners of those scales.
Taranis stared down at the receptionist. The young man was gawking, finger paused in mid-swipe over a DaTab.
"Greetings. We are looking for the administrator of this facility."
The receptionist stuttered, "Aaah... Umm... Well..."
The blue Dragon glowered, "Now. If you please."
Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the Dragons' enormous claws, the receptionist reached across his desk and tapped a small holo-control, "Mr. Lansing; You're needed urgently in the lobby."
After several moments of intensely awkward silence, during which both the receptionist and the security guards shuffled frequently, a door opened on the right side of the chamber.
Mr. Lansing was tall, gray haired, but still spry for a man of his apparent age. His neat gray suit, and the small golden pin on the collar, shaped like the Kaliss company logo, identified him as the plant supervisor.
To his credit, he took the surprise of seeing two Dragons in his lobby almost entirely in stride, only hesitating slightly as he made his way across the polished floor, shoes clicking in perfect time.
"Good morning. What can I do for you gentlemen?" He managed a professional tone, and a neutral expression; A fact for which Taranis mentally gave him credit.
"We're here on behalf of the JRSF. I think it would be better if we spoke in private."
Lansing's office was, thankfully, on the same floor as the lobby. Klarien had been eyeing the elevator nervously, wondering how the reptilian soldiers would fit within the small carriages if they needed to visit another level.
The chamber overlooked part of the factory floor, in a manner similar to the lobby, by means of an enormous floor-to-ceiling plexiglass window. Klarien stared for several moments in fascination. The factory was a stunning display of well programmed robotic choreography.
Hundreds of thousands of armatures picked, soldered, and snapped away at billions of computer chips as they passed by on an ever-advancing labyrinth of conveyor belts. It was beautiful, in its own peculiarly mesmerizing way.
Lansing's voice swiftly put an end to the green Dragon's mental wanderings.
"If the JRSF saw fit to send two of you here, then I don't expect you have good news."
Taranis shook his head. The gesture nearly laid waste to the supervisor's desk. Had his office not been unusually large, the two Dragons would not have even been able to squeeze into the space. Maneuvering room was at a premium.
"Are your inventories well controlled?"
Lansing raised an eyebrow, "Every single thing that happens in this factory is monitored, twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five. All items are given a unique RFID plate, and corresponding serial number, at time of manufacture. They are then tracked, without fail, from time of manufacture to time of shipment arrival." He paused and leaned forward, his chair squeaking slightly, "What, exactly, is this all about?"
Taranis tapped one claw on Lansing's desk. The chitin produced a slow reverberating rhythm on the brushed steel slab.
"Is there any way you could conceive of for an employee to smuggle goods out of the factory? Specifically, goods slated for destruction due to faulty behavior? Or for other similar reasons?"
The supervisor appeared both genuinely baffled, and deeply upset, "No! Of course not! We're very careful with all defective, or sensitive materials! Are you going to ask a more specific question or not?! Do you suspect we have some sort of leak?!"
Taranis allowed the silence to stretch of for almost five seconds while he evaluated Lansing with a cold, calculating gaze. He spoke again without shifting his ocular focus in the slightest.
"We have evidence that suggests prototype chips designed for a military contract bid, and produced at this factory, were sold to the Human Liberation Front."
Lansing stared in open mouthed shock. Both Dragons could easily taste his fear and confusion, as his body ejected floods of indicative hormones into the air. Chemicals that were easily sampled by their Jacobson's organs.
It was child's play for them to reach the same conclusion, silently and simultaneously. Lansing was not complicit in the theft.
Before the supervisor could speak, Taranis hummed in concern, "Clearly you were not aware of the surreptitious activities taking place at your factory. We'll need access to all of your employee records, as well as any information you maintain on employee movement; Security lock timestamps and such."
Lansing sat back and threw up his hands, "Wha...?! I don't... You're just going to...?!"
Klarien grunted, unable to resist the impulse to speak, "Trust you at your word? We can smell your concern and confusion. It's legitimate. Pungent too. You should consider a better brand of deodorant."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Fourth Month, Sixteenth Day, Celestial Calendar
Luna stared in confusion. The sight before her was baffling. She had rounded the corner of the main hall, to find that the throne room, perhaps the most familiar space to her in all of Canterlot Castle, was missing.
In its place was a heap of rubble covered in a swarm of work-Ponies operating a tread-crane, and frenetically wielding masonry tools in a haze of marble dust.
The Lunar Monarch stood dumbfounded, muzzle agape, until a worker passed close enough for her to reach out with a hoof and stop him, "Pardon me citizen. What hath befallen the throne room?!" In one of her more common symptoms of distress, Luna found herself unable to avoid slipping into Old High Royal Canterlot speech patterns.
The worker tilted his head in confusion, "Where have *you* been for the last month? We're finishing repairs on the battle damage."
Luna's eyes widened abruptly, "Battle damage?!"
The stallion nodded, "Of course. Actually... We need your opinion on something. We just finished the atrium, and we wanted to get your approval on a new decorative feature."
Before Luna could press the mason for more information, he trotted nonchalantly back down the hallway. Baffled, the monarch followed him. The stallion preceded her through a set of familiar double doors. Luna followed, unable to suppress her curiosity long enough to fire off any more queries.
As she passed through the entryway, the sight that filled her eyes chilled the blood in her veins. She felt as if her heart had been instantly encased in a thick layer of ice, and she had to bite her lip to resist the impulse to scream.
The palace atrium, a familiar and comforting space that she knew and loved, had been transformed into a grotesque display by the addition of a single object.
The white monument, of sorts, was enshrined on a vast marble pedestal and supported by cleverly hidden wires. Much like a museum exhibit. It shone with the transfixing glitter of burnished gold, which only served to heighten the macabre of the sight. The gold, like the room itself, and the monument, were all too familiar.
Luna inhaled slowly, a tear forming in the corner of one eye as the reality of the sight finally sunk in. Before her, decked out in the royal regalia of the Solar Monarch, stood the bleached skeleton of an Alicorn. A familiar Alicorn. Her beloved sister.
Before Luna could bring herself to move, or speak, a deafening voice seemed to fill the chamber. The dulcet, yet ominous timbre was not only familiar, but lacked an echo. The Lunar Princess realized with a violent start that it was not so much filling the atrium, as her mind.
"Look long and well upon our greatest triumph."
Luna collapsed to the floor, hooves tangled in the throes of agony, as the voice was abruptly joined by a wracking pain in her skull. As the agonizing pangs receded, she gazed up at the monument once more, and noted the presence of six glittering gems in the base of the pedestal.
She inhaled sharply, "No..."
The voice returned to her mind once more; soft rather than deafening, as if its owner were speaking directly into her ear in an intimate whisper, "Now you see the folly of your stratagems. *You* did this. You made this possible. I suppose..."
The final two words abruptly acquired direction, and echo, seeming to instantly transition from the reaches of Luna's mind, to a point-source above her.
She slowly raised her head, struggling once more to hold back tears. She beheld a chillingly familiar sight. The amethyst hued Unicorn from the darkest moments of her recent slumbers.
The apparition stood on the marble slab, beside the bones of Celestia, and smirked proudly. She bent her head to lock eyes with Luna, and finished her thought, "I suppose I should... Thank you. We're so grateful for your failure."
"Sister? Sister... Were you having nightmares again?" It took Luna a full half of a minute to shake off the bonds of sleep, and process the words. When she finally managed the feat, she raised her head from her desk, where it had fallen when she dozed off.
Celestia stood in the entryway to her office, looking down on her with a mixture of sadness and concern. Luna stood, and hung her head, "I am sorry sister. I'm afraid I slept, and lost track of time. I am late for our lunch aren't I?"'
Celestia nodded slowly, "Luna... It nears sundown."
A long moment of awkward silence passed, punctuated only by the mercifully comforting sound of Canterlot's evening hubbub, and the soothing trill of songbirds in the Palace gardens below the room's vast open window.
At last, Celestia brought an end to the moment by simply stepping forward, and quietly embracing her younger sibling. Luna did not resist the unusually 'undignified' display of affection as she might have normally, but instead returned the gesture.
When the sisters separated, Celestia noted that Luna's eyes were moist with tears. She sighed, "Explain to me what is troubling you. Starting from the beginning. If you are willing."
Luna nodded slowly, and exhaled, "I suppose it is time you knew. I think it concerns you, and that I need the boon of your advice, particularly since you will be departing shortly."
Celestia moved to take up a comfortable position on one of the study's couches, and patiently waited for Luna to follow suit. Once they were seated, and a guard had been summoned to fetch tea, the Solar Monarch spoke once more, "Tell me all that is on your mind."
Luna stared out the window, towards the afternoon sun, "I have not been sleeping well of late..."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Fourth Month, Sixteenth Day, Celestial Calendar
"Its not exactly Royal Guard armor..." Kephic tilted his head and thrummed a note of interest and critique deep in his throat.
Varan finished the thought, "I think, however, that it will be as serviceable as can be hoped for at short notice."
Skye glanced up at the plume of her helmet, crossing her eyes to try and see it in clear focus, "Don't let 'his eminence,' Captain Tightpants, hear you say that. He'll probably flip his lid."
IJ raised an eyebrow as she yanked a final cinch on her chest-plate tight with her muzzle, "Are you always given to such dramatic nomenclature and metaphors?"
Carradan whistled a low note, "Well... You two do *look* pretty dramatic. And dashing... And..."
The two female Ponies pierced the salmon Pegasus with a glare that Fyrenn guessed could have melted a solid block of aluminum into a whimpering puddle. Internally, however, the Gryphon had to admit; Stan was right. The pair cut dashing figures in their new gear.
Pegasus armor was weaker than standard Royal Guard armor. It was produced entirely in Cloudsdale, with exclusively Pony manufacturing processes and materials. As such it lacked the durability and impact resistance of alloy, though the lighter design overall afforded some extra flexibility. It was effectively nothing more than artistically fashioned simple steel plates and leather.
Despite its comparatively weaker construction, Fyrenn still admired the gear. It had been burnished and painted a shade of onyx black. Intricate silver filigree adorned the two primary components; A segmented and plated guard for the back and chest, and a half-helm with a tall, dark plume.
Both pieces of armor were trimmed in gold leaf, and the helmet's plume appeared to be genuine Pony hair, dyed a deep and glittering shade of black.
On the whole the effect was elegant, intimidating, and even militaristic. Fyrenn was both pleased, and surprised, to see a Pony-crafted object elicit such feelings. He made a mental promise to himself to learn more about Pegasus history once he had breathing room.
At last, Varan broke the awkward, albeit slightly comedic, silence, "It is approaching sundown. We should depart before we lose any more time."
Stan sighed morosely, "Ah well. There's always tomorrow."
Carradan doubled over as IJ delivered a swift, sharp blow to his chest with one wing.
Skye giggled, "Good shot."
As Fyrenn passed Stan on his way to the corner to pick up his own pack, he patted the wheezing Pegasus on the back softly, "I warned you buddy. Stay away from the stove if you don't want to be burned."
Kephic snorted, "I'd advise he stay away from anything female entirely."
Varan shrugged, and shifted his wings to make room for his own pack beside his mace and bow, "I think the attempt would kill him."
Fyrenn inclined his head as he spread his wings, "Not if our dear sisters kill him first."
Carradan smiled dreamily, "Given the choice? I'll take death-by-ex any day."
Kephic chuckled as he opened the door, "Which one is the lucky mare then?"
The salmon Pegasus cocked his head and squinted, "You know what? I haven't deci---YEEEOWCH!"
The Gryphons, Varan included, could not resist a chuckle at Stan's expense, as Skye whistled innocently across the room, and the sharp arrow tip that she had jabbed into Carradan's rear fell to the floor. The magical aura around her horn dissipated instantly, and she grinned slyly, "Be careful what you wish for."
Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, "If I'm going to keep carrying you? I'm laying a ground rule right now; No kicking, stabbing, punching, screeching, scratching... Or any other horrible things you can think of."
Skye rolled her eyes skyward, "If you keep him away from me, you've got nothing to worry about."
Fyrenn mumbled as he bent to lift Skye onto his back, "That's what bothers me. I'm not sure *God* could keep Stan away."
IJ glowered as she snapped her wings open, "At this point? I want to point out that you need me to guide you to the Hive. If you, or your god, do not succeed at keeping him away from *me?* I will slit him end to end in his sleep."
Kephic raised a claw, as the group began to leap off the edge of Cloudsdale, one by one, "New rule. The three Ponies must be separated from each other by at least one of us every night."
Varan sighed, "I do not look forward to shouldering the watch rotations amongst the three of us."
Fyrenn became airborne, turning in a gradual bank for Skye's sake, until he was pointed a few degrees shy of the setting sun. He smiled wryly, "It's better than the alternatives. Believe me."