When Friendship Was Magic

by MrHost56


Griffon Kingdom - Chapter I

Griffon Kingdom - Friendship Was Magic ST

Sunlight streaked through the windows and tickled my eyes open. I felt my body swim out of a night coma. Sense started kicking in, sight and hearing, tasting and smelling. And feeling. Especially feeling.
"Uuuugggghhhhh....."
My head was throbbing, and the light burned my eyes. This could quite possibly be the worst hangover ever. I rolled over and tried to fall back asleep but was unsuccessful.
"Ooooohhhhhh, buckin' tartarus." I complained. I could tell this was going to be a bad day. Might as well just stay inside until the hamster in my head stopped hammering at my skull. I reached over to pull the shades shut, but when I threw my weight into it my hand caught empty air. I didn't even react as my disoriented blob of a body fell off of the cot and onto the cold hard floor.
One small step for a hangover, one giant leap for drunk kind.
A bottle of hard cider rolled off and landed on the back of my head. Normally with my thick scales I wouldn't have felt a thing, but this reignited the landslide in my brain. I shouted as needles poked my ears and started to rub my racked cranium. "Yep. It's a Monday." Which meant that the weekend was over. Which meant I had to report.
The thought instantly sobered me up, and I looked around my house with clearing vision. Well, “house” was an overstatement. More like a two room shack with a wood floor, small cot, a square hole with sheets for a window, and a decent sanitation system. I picked myself up and lumbered to the bathroom.
In the mirror I was met with my reflection. A tall, young adult dragon, with rags wrapped tightly around his upper body and black leggings. Only the hands, feet, and head were exposed.
I don't know why I started wearing clothes. I was probably the only dragon that did. Maybe it was to disguise my scales, maybe it was to look cool. Or maybe it was because I just felt like it and didn't gave a buck about what other people thought. All I knew was that I looked pretty damn good with them on.
I splashed some cold water on my face from the makeshift sink, scrubbed out my claws and teeth, threw on my purple coat, slipped on black fingerless gloves, grabbed my sunglasses then head out the door.
Outside, the fresh air was a huge relief and helped clear my head even more. Though the sunlight was blinding, and it took my eyes a few moments to adjust and take in the surrounding area.
I lived on the outskirts of a small griffon village next to a small lake in a small forested area. It had small animals that provided small meals and only needed small holes to bury the remains to help fertilize the soil of my small farm.
You can imagine that I felt very out of place.
Now, normally one would think that a dragon of my age would be holed up in a cave hoarding a huge pile of gems and treasure. I was a unique case, considering I had been raised by ponies for ponies. Literally, I had been bred to be a servant. Not to the point of slavery, mind you.
I looked up at the tree tops that were such a stark contrast to my sheet metal hut. The grass tickled my feet, still wet with morning dew. The pond that I drew my water from lay three feet ahead of me, clear to the bottom and completely motionless in the still morning air.
I loved waking up to this every morning. Peace and quiet, nobody around to bother me. Just the birds and the animals going about their daily business. It was almost perfect.
And right now the birds and animal were pissing off just about every one of my five senses, thanks to alcohol.
I took off to the griffon village, reminding myself that I still belonged to civilization.


It usually takes about fifteen to twenty minutes to reach the village, but due to my current stupor the trip took up the better part of an hour. I tripped over almost ten roots, and the branches were no help either. I wasn't a big dragon, but I sure as Tartarus couldn't fit in a teapot.
I soon found a dirt path and began to follow it down to the edge of the woods. After about five minutes of walking I could see smoke columns rising into the sky. Chimneys from buildings.
I could tell one of them was from the local forge because it was thick, black, and heavy. It rose taller than all the other ones. The smallest one was obviously from some makeshift trashcan bonfire which would probably get put out by the local guards.
I eventually stepped out on the edge of the woods, expecting to come into the south end of the village. Instead I slammed my face right into the back window of a tavern. There was a loud donk sound as I reeled back and grabbed my nose. There were shouts of surprise from inside, a couple figures appeared in the window.
I heard the sound of large wings beating heavily, then a thump as a hawk-lion hybrid landed next to me. "Damn, kid, thought you were a bird." said StoneFeathers, the griffon who owned the Drunkenclaw tavern. I chuckled and gave him a buck you too look.
"So I guess it doesn't matter now, huh?" I retorted with a scoff, which was returned with a laugh.
"Well considering the fact you emptied half of my tankards last night I'm not surprised you’re still not functionin’ properly."
StoneFeathers was an old griffon. He had been born with all grey feathers, hence the name, which would have classified him as a runt in his culture were it not he was the biggest damn bird you've ever seen. The guy was easily a head taller than me, and that's saying something.
"Yeah, but I always pay you back. And in full" I said reassuringly. The gray-feathered bartender laughed and slapped me on the back with a claw that could crush marble.
"That you do boy! That you do, whatta ya say you come in and a mug or two, eh?". I reluctantly denied the offer.
"Gotta head to the guild, probably a nice big juicy contract on the board just waiting to get snatched up." The griffon sent me off with a bottle of hard cider anyways, on the house. Couldn't get through the morning without the proper breakfast.
I walked between Drunkenclaw and the general store to the left of it, and came out onto a street bustling with early morning activities. Griffons of all shapes, colors, and sizes were sweeping the front decks of their stores, pulling carts full of food and supplies. I could see Ironclaw setting up his weapon displays. Huge steel broadswords, razor sharp knives, and arrows that could pierce through most armors. Ironclaw was both locally and nationally known for his fine and unmatched craftsmanship in arms. He supplied many of the guards as well as the military. Though I'd never used a blade in my life, and I didn't plan on it.
Another thing Ironclaw produced, as well as a griffon specialty, was firearms. Unique weapons, they used gun powder and lead instead of muscle and steel. The weapons came in many shapes and forms, and fortunately I had enough dexterity to use one. I may not have been handy with a blade, but I was faster at reloading a double-barrel blunderbuss than a bee's wings could buzz a single note.
Ironclaw would sell to anyone with the right coin, especially to people like me. Mercenaries. I was a member of the Griffon Kingdom branch of the International Mercenary Guild, or IMG. It's HQ is the main reason why this town even exists. Now as to why it was on the ground instead of on the top of a mountain, like most griffon settlements, that’s because all IMG headquarters had to be built in an area easily accessible to all races.
Continuing my stroll down the street, it dawned on me that I had in fact not taken a single contract since the “phoenix incident”. The job paid for more than enough food and alcohol for over three months, but now those bits were down to pocket change after the combined forces of booze and weapons loans.. I needed to find a contract if I wanted to get supplies for the winter that was approaching soon.
I paused for a moment, noticing a tree's leaves that were a flush green only yesterday were now shades of deep reds and browns and oranges. For almost a minute I couldn't move.
Last time things changed so fast like this, so suddenly, it was so....
Chaotic.


I pushed open the double doors of the guild's main hall, which looked like a tavern except the people inside were armed to the teeth. Of course these were griffons, so, yeah.
A couple members turned to see who just came in, then when they recognized me went back to their drinks and food. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a bottle of wheatskey from a griffin with white body feathers and dark brown head feathers, the most common appearance of griffons. "You workin' today Gilda?" I asked the bully-turned-bartender.
She scoffed at me, "As if. I'm covering my brother's shift. He's out on another search and rescue contract."
I rolled my eyes. Gilda and I had run into each other when I had been a member for three years at the guild in GreenFeather village. Naturally I'd come to her with some hostility at first, until I found out she'd been disciplined into a very trustworthy soldier. I'd pick her over anyone of these drunk sword swingers for a partner anytime of the day. Except for diplomacy missions. She'd probably start a war or two with her, “social skills”.
"Where is it this time?" Geldur, Gilda’s brother and better half of the two, was always doing S&R. It was an honorable mission, but they usually were the most dangerous. You have to kill everyone going in, then kill everyone coming out with a new party member slowing you down. Unless you had killed everyone the first time, but that was a rare occurence.
Gilda looked down at the cup she was cleaning with a wet rag, "Don't know. He didn't say." Her expression was the most obvious color of worry.
Ponyfeathers, he'd gone somewhere really dangerous this time.
"I won't prod. Did I miss any good ones?" If you wanted to get a good contract, you had to get in early.
"Board's clean. Every last contract's been taken or in consideration." Damn, I'd have to get here earlier tomorrow then. Or stay the night. "And don't think about sleepin' in the back again. Meats' gonna throw a fit if you burn his food again." Gilda scorned, knowing exactly what I was thinking. The last time I had tried to stay here overnight the guild's chef Meats, full name MeatCleaver, let me sleep in the kitchen. Until then I had not known I sleep sneezed, and uncontrolled sneezing for a dragon could be dangerous.
"I'll just rough it in the woods. One night can't hurt."
"Until the timberwolves find ya."
"Then I'll just have to turn them into firewood."
Gilda laughed, "Yeah, you would do that wouldn't ya."
"They don't call me Firefly for nothing." Just an awesome nickname I picked up. No big deal.
I had received the title during a contract in my younger years for some griffon that got stuck in a tree that just so happened to be full of phoenix nests. I made the mistake of trying to reason with them, despite their clear lack of speaking ability, and thus was forced to show why dragons were more known for their fire than phoenixs… phoenixi… what was the plural for that again? Point is, it wasn't a good day.
"Probably wouldn't do any good to try and sleep in the hay bail too. Oh well." I took another swig of my cider. It would not be my last for the rest of the day.


I watched as stars swirled in the night sky, the moon melting like warm cheese. It was beautifully terrifying. It looked so pretty but reminded me just how small I was compared to it. Like an infinite span of light and darkness, stars and planets.
"I am so bucking wasted."
It had been a long, hard day of drinking and eating up the rest of my bits. Talking smack and raising Tartarus in the guild. I didn't even remember how I got up here in the first place.
At least I'd get in early tommorow.