//------------------------------//
// 33 - A kaleidoscope of History 
// Story: An Extended Holiday 
// by Commander_Pensword 
//------------------------------//

Extended Holiday
Chp 33: A kaleidoscope of History
Act 4




There were many ways gryphons would describe Garrus Ryan Athian Flightfighter Farflyer, or Graff as the tradition was to call a gryphon of five names or higher by the word spelt from the first letters of their names.

Graff was a warrior. In the Gryphic tongue, Athian meant ‘first blood,’ and it was a name awarded to the first of a clan’s brood who would reach maturity through the honor of battle. When Graff had still been a chick, Diamond Dogs had attacked the clan in a raid. While they were held off in the main yard, several managed to sneak around the back entrance and fight their way to the instruction room. By the time the warriors arrived they found both the teacher and guard dead as well as five Diamond Dogs. Three had been killed by the guard and the teacher but the final two lay dead in front of Graff as he brandished a two handed Diamond Dog axe. His face caked in blood and his brood peers gathered behind him. It was then the warriors knew Graff would go places.

Graff was smart, in his years he had lead several raiding parties to clear out the Diamond Dogs that besieged the northern isles. His strategy and wisdom had gained him great favor within the clan.

Graff was loyal and the northern isles were yet a small place with little honor to be had for fledgling warriors. This caused many to go searching elsewhere. When the colony had seceded from the empire to be it’s own nation it had been common for fledglings to return to Gryphonia and attempt to join another clan for the honor that came with being a warrior of the empire. Graff never left to pursue such honor.

Most of all, Graff was kind. An unorthodox and unusual trait for a gryphon warrior, Graff always gave more than necessary to aid the widows of past warriors, sharing food from his hunts with any who might come up short. kindness was not a good trait for a gryphon. It sewed the seeds of weakness and reaped only dependency on others. Graff was kind; and this was a trait that could stop a gryphon from growing above their station.

Many a gryphon historian would say it was kindness that lead to Graff’s fall, the birth of Graf, and the raising of the worst gryphon in the history of the race. It was midwinter in the northern isles. Unlike most of Equestria snow did not fall on the small island chains. However, the winds ran wild and raw with a cruel chill that cut deep into the bone. Food became scarce and the salty sea spray would burn the beak of any who were forced to feel it’s sting. It was on a such a mid-winter night that Graff had been stuck attending both the internal hearthfire and the external beacon flame for all those who dared to be out hunting at this time.

The gryphon hugged his cloak against his body as he made his way down the usually short, now seemingly endless, path from the house to the beaconfire. Fortunately, the deer hide cloak had been tanned well and kept the majority of the wind and spray from the warrior’s face. Approaching the ebbing flame of the beacon in the harsh wind, the light warmth offered a glimmer of comfort in the dark, chill weather. Grabbing the iron bar, Griff stoked the coals carefully, hoping to find some way to rekindle the fire. The tactic yielded little success with the dying coals. Grumbling, he cast the bar aside as he made his way to the coal stores. Flinging the door open with a grumbling slam, he froze.

There in the dark of the coal stores, nested between two piles, a pair of blue eye’s stared out, unblinking. for a moment, fear clawed at the gryphon warrior’s mind, scrabbling for purchase as he wondered what sort of beast could have claimed the coal stores for it’s winter home. This fear was soon cast off, however, as a familiar squawk erupted from the pile. As the feline light receptors in Graff’s eyes took hold he realized this supposedly unwelcome creature was nothing more than a young gryphon, still but a cub. The child shivered lightly in the spray, but seemed to be unbothered by the large armed figure in front of it. The blue eyes stared questioningly as it stood, approaching slowly.

Graff shook his head. An orphan was truly a sad thing in gryphon society. strength was paramount, and weakness, a blight to be discarded. If the child was alone it meant his parents either saw weakness in him or had been too weak to survive the winter themselves. To take in such a creature was scandalous. There would be more mercy in cutting such a one’s throat before it was forced to die of starvation or disease. And yet, Graff’s talons never reached for his knife or sword. His axe stayed within it’s holster. The elder male gryphon took the cloak from his shoulders and tenderly wrapped the child inside. As he did so his talons brushed against something metallic. Gently the old bird lifted the child’s wing only to gasp in amazement. A metallic feather gleamed amongst the still under grown primaries.

The gryphon searched the childs features. Battle born? In the northern isles? Such children grew into warriors of instability and bloodlust, warriors of incredible fame, but monsters to all who knew them. Yet as Graff searched the child’s features something else glowed within those eye’s. No, not a battle born. Something far more important. Graff undoubtedly knew the child was an old soul, come for it’s second beginning.

Graff was kind. And in the weeks that followed, his kindness would see him removed from his clan. It would see him dead to them and reborn as Graff no longer of the far flyer clan. All but a faithful few who had fought at his side denounced him. Still, Graff did not waver. For Graff had a son now. And something within him told him that given time, all would would come to know Grif, son of Graff.

Grif, son of Graff, ‘born’ September Ninth, 101 ADF





As harsh winter raged against the shores of the Northern Isles, something else was brewing in the frontier lands of Equestria’s northwest border with the Gryphon Empire. Two ponies were out for a walk in the mountain meadows. They stared at each other with love struck eyes. The scene would have been a scandal in the larger cities, but the two laughed in spite of it. What were the opinions of stuffed up gentry to a pony in love? The Pegasus Stallion only smiled, brushing a feathered wing over his mate’s leather one as he lost himself in her slitted eyes. “Oh my sweet Moon Beam.” He whispered with a smile in her ear.

She shuddered and giggled at the touch and the sound of her name. “Now now, Iron Pen, do not get too romantic. I have not even gotten us to our picnic spot.” Suddenly she broke pace, her smile dropping into an expression of shock and intense concentration. Her ears twitched as she cocked her head. 

“What is wrong, Moon Beam?”

“Shhh.” She hushed her husband. “I can hear a foal crying.” 

Iron Pen blinked in shock, following his wife’s gaze as he strained to hear. Wind? Some crack in a boulder perhaps? Then he heard it, rising and falling on the wind as it tossed and turned, the wail echoed fear, confusion, and it held power enough to break even the stoniest of hearts, causing them bleed compassion. Iron’s face darkened. “We will find the foal. And if somepony abandoned it, I swear I will make them pay.” He moved a wing to his saddle pouch and removed the dagger he had brought with him to cut the simple meal of meat, bread, and cheese. Something may attack when they find the baby, and he was going to protect his wife if it came down to it. He turned, starting, as he heard the leathery flapping of his wife’s wings. Moon Beam was already off the ground making a beeline for the foal, her bat-like ears swivelling as she honed in on the cry. The two eventually came to a field of boulders in an abandoned rock quarry. The wailing echoed, bouncing from wall to wall.

“No wonder we were able to hear it crying. This place has incredible acoustics.” Iron Pen marvelled as he touched down next to his wife. Moon Beam’s ear twitched in annoyance.

“Yes, but they are also a problem. I cannot locate the foal this way. There are too many echoes to pinpoint the origin.” 

“Then we search the quarry until we find the foal.” Iron Pen said, resolutely.

“Right. When the foal is found, we will signal the other. Agreed?”

“Agreed. Let us begin.” With that, Iron pen was off, his body a blur as he zoomed amongst the debris. Boulder to boulder, Stalagmite to stalagmite, he covering one half, Moon Beam the other. The child’s cries began to weaken as he drew closer to the outer perimeter, so Iron Pen focused his gaze on the interior instead. Ears swivelling, he banked and arced, passing through a few natural arches formed by the ravages of time. It was while passing under one such arch that Iron Pen stopped. Down below in the shadows, the cry reverberated, building on itself as it shot up. Slowly lowering himself as he lessened his wing beats, Iron Pen noticed the echoes appeared to be reverberating off of what seemed to be the walls of a sinkhole. Perhaps the ground was unstable? It would explain why the quarry had to be abandoned. Still, the cry was clearly coming from that spot. With that, Iron Pen shot high into the air and called his wife, making sure to keep above the place so he would not lose it.

“You found the foal?” Moon Beam asked as she joined him. Iron Pen nodded.

“Down there. I thought it wise to wait for the one with the night vision to go first.” He said, smiling at his mate.

“But of course.” Without another word, she dove, not even acknowledging his playful tone. Her slitted eyes took in the shadows with one glance. She noticed two things. One, the foal in question lay on a large, flat boulder, his silhouette marking him a fledgeling. Two, the ground in the sinkhole was clearly made up of gravel. If the ponies were to land anywhere, it might disturb the ground, causing the boulder to be swallowed up in a landslide and the young foal with it. “Iron Pen. Be very, very careful down here. One false move and the child will be lost.” She hissed.

“Right. But the foal cannot simply remain where it is. We will have to take it out quickly. If the child’s weight is removed and it struggles, this pit may collapse, or worse.”

“Then we will have to restrain it while we fly. I will take its forehooves if you will take the hind. We will take the child to safer ground, then let it go.”

“Is that really safe?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Iron Pen sighed. “You are right, dear, as always.” Nodding in unison the two dove, snatching the wailing child from its place before it could acknowledge anything. The wail soon turned into a scream as it began to struggle. Iron Pen grunted. “This one has spirit.”

“Just hold on a little longer, my love. We have almost reached the surface.” Below, a distant rumbling could be heard as the boulder sank out of sight, a shower of cascading pebbles rolling down as the hole began to widen its maw. Dust clouds filled the air, exploding out in a mushroom effect, obscuring everything as boulders began to rumble and slide, clattering with the pebbles down the widening shaft. The screaming died, only to be replaced with a fit of coughing as an amorphous shadow drew close to the edge then broke free, firing like a bolt from its channel. The three crash landed, bouncing a couple of times. Both adults’ wings surrounding the foal until they ground to a halt.
Sitting up and laughing, the two couldn’t help but point at how ridiculous the other looked. Dirt smudged their noble bearing, clotting up their tails and manes. Between the two of them a rather bewildered looking foal stood, his eyes luminous in the mid-day sun. Blinking once, then twice, it sniffled before sitting down and bawling its young eyes out.

Moon Beam stopped her giggling almost immediately, rushing to the foal to make sure it was safe. She made a peremptory sweep for any major injuries. It looked like he might have a bruise or two, a tiny cut on his muzzle, but aside from that, he seemed well enough. The boy, for it was soon quite apparent the child was a colt, continued to weep. He was covered from head to toe in dirt and Moonbeam couldn’t help but smile. “Colts, always the same. Why do you insist on getting so dirty?” She asked looking back at her husband with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. The child appeared to be a young pegasus, his wings flapping disjointedly as he sobbed. “Oh poor dear, look at him…” She paused a moment, her eyes widening briefly as she stared intently at the young pony’s muzzle and ears. Then her gaze softened. “Oh, what cute little fangs and ears!”  She cooed in delight. “Who would ever want to abandon a little colt like this?”

Iron Pen blinked and growled a little. “Tirek cursed city folks leaving a colt in such a place.” He looked around and huffed. “Dear, let’s get him to the picnic. We all could use a dip in the stream I think, and he could probably use some food as well.”

Moon Beam nodded as she opened her wings, using them to pick up the sobbing child and place him on her back. She gasped when he wrapped his hooves around her neck, weeping into her mane. “Let’s go.” with two quick flaps of her wings she was airborne, her husband following suit. Now was not the time for a leisurely walk. This foal needed tending. The three rose on the air currents, the child continuing to grip Moon Beam, eyes tightly shut. 

“P-p-please don’t drop me.”  He sobbed. Moon Beam’s eyes hardened.

“I won’t, I promise.”  The wind blew through their manes as the three sped towards a large green patch in the distance. The babbling of a cool stream filled their ears as they honed in on the suntouched waters. Rapidly, they descended before flapping to a hover, then gently alighting on the shore. Iron Pen removed his saddle bags with the meal and tools, gently setting them on the lush, green grass of the clearing. A small waterfall fell from the rocks above into a small pool before continuing on its way downriver. Iron Pen smiled.

“This will do nicely. Let’s get ourselves cleaned up.” Iron Pen said, all business and playfulness as he waded into the cold stream. He shuddered, making a sputtering sound. “It is a bit cold, but you get used to it quickly enough.” He smiled at his wife. The foal giggled. Then Iron Pen waded into the pool, submerging himself temporarily before standing under the waterfall. Dirt ran in rivulets down his coat, forming a large muddy cloud in the water as the stream swept it away. When Iron Pen was certain he had washed enough, he made his way to shore, grinning. “Well that was exhilarating.” He said, shaking his coat and mane, spraying droplets of water from his mane all over the clearing. Moon Beam laughed. 
“You are impossible.” she giggled, kissing him before she made her own way towards the water, the foal still on her back.

“Now don’t worry, little one. If you cannot swim, I will be here to hold you up. Just relax and enjoy the water, alright?” The foal nodded, still looking apprehensive in his white and brown smudged coat. Moon Beam was made of tougher stuff than Iron Pen, having lived the life of a Thestral. You had to be tough to get anywhere in society, or rather, endure its hateful barbs. She never flinched, though she could feel the little colt shiver as they entered the pool, the dust and dirt forming yet another cloud, swirling in patterns as it was taken down stream. Beneath the waterfall, Moon Beam laughed with delight, enjoying the sensation of cold water streaming down her mane. She lifted her muzzle up and drank from the fresh fall.

“Alright now, little one. Let us see what we can do about that stubborn mud, hmmm?”  Her eyes glinted mischievously as she winked at the colt. He shuddered, which made Iron Pen laugh. “Well, he certainly seems to dislike baths well enough.”  Moon Beam just grabbed the colt with her wings and gently laid him in the shallower parts of the pool, scrubbing and rubbing at his coat. Iron Pen tossed her a brush and she set to work scrubbing. The colt was surprisingly docile through the process, holding stock still as suds were worked up in his coat, a mixture of the pure water and hard scrubbing Moon Beam put into it. Laughing, she scooped up water in her wings and dumped it onto the young foal, and despite himself, the foal laughed too. Now thoroughly cleansed, his water darkened mane and tail sparkled in the sun, bejeweled by the streaming water. His dark navy blue fur shone in the sunlight as his midnight wings expanded, flicking orbs of sparkling light over the stream. Moon beam gasped.

“Iron Pen, come look at this. The boy cannot be much older than a year and he already has a cutie mark.”  She ushered the colt out of the water, her eyes flicking back and forth between the mane and the mark. He really was a rather handsome colt.  Though he was still sputtering a little, having gotten some dirt runoff in his eye.  He rubbed it vigorously.

Iron Pen blinked and looked at the flank with widening eyes. “A sword and pen crossed… how can this be?” 

“And where is the boy’s mother?” They both paused as they heard the colt speak, high pitched and still sniffling.

“Mommy?” he started at the word, remembering he was alone again, the smile fading as tears stung his eyes. “I want my Mommy and Daddy.” He sniffled, a single tear streaming from the good eye.

“Hush now, Hush dear.” Moon Beam cooed.  “There is no need to cry.  Your Mommy and Daddy are right here.” She looked up with a willful gaze. Iron Pen knew it only too well from when she stood up to her father to marry him. He knew he had no chance, and besides, he liked this colt. He sighed dramatically.

“I suppose we’ll have to keep him then. Just do not use that on me any more. You know how much I hate I feel when you use it for your mother’s visits with the family.” He muttered before looking to the Colt. “So, does this mean this will be how our foals will look?” He smiled and put a comforting hoof on the colt’s head, mussing up his mane. The foal giggled, still rubbing his eye. “Because if this foal is anything to judge by, then they will be beautiful fillies and very handsome colts indeed.” He paused and looked up, confused at his wife’s lack of response. Moon Beam held a distant gaze.  “I wish you’d warn me when you’re about to look into the future.” A few minutes later She blinked and shook her mane. He jumped, he always jumped when she would come out of her trances.  “So are we going to give this colt a name?” He asked, curious about what she had seen and what would come next.

“Pensword. I shall name him Pensword and he will be… Faust has plans for him.” She whispered as she looked at her husband. “Come on dear, let’s see what he likes, he might even enjoy some of my special treats.”  She winked.  “Come along, little one.”

“Dear, I still do not know why or how you can eat fruit bats or those Vampire Fruit bats.” Iron Pen replied as he ran a hoof through his dark blue mane, while staring at his own wife’s brown mane and midnight blue coat.  He often liked to stare at her when she wasn’t looking. He paused then, a strange observation dawning as he eyed the colt by her side. Iron Pen smiled as she used a free wing to whack him in the muzzle. “Okay, okay, I will behave, I am coming. Still, he has your coat color.” 

She nodded. “And look at that lovely mane and tail. He almost looks distinguished.” She giggled before blinking as the colt opened his eyes for all to fully see. “Oh my” She exclaimed as the young foal’s full gaze hit her for the first time, a beautiful icy blue like the mountain morning sky. “Yes, this one is special.” She muttered at the eyes of Pensword who looked around and blinked with a smile.

“Family?” he asked looking at the two, a memory that would amazingly still be with him years after.

“Yes, my little Pensword.” Moon Beam replied with another kiss to his forehead. “We are a family.” She made a rather cute sounding eep as her husband Iron Pen took both of them into a strong wing hug. She tapped his cutie mark with a wing, tracing the path of the Quill Pen with a metallic shine as it left a trail of black ink along part of his flank.

Sitting along the bank, laughing in the sun, they waited for their manes to dry.  Celestia’s sun soon saw to that.  Moon Beam gazed on their new son with pride, a warm smile on her muzzle as she eyed his shiny blue coat and beautiful flowing mane.  She started where she lay, her eyes wide.  How had she not noticed before? “White as the moon.” She whispered. 

“What was that, dear?” Her mate asked with a curious nudge to her ear.

“Nothing, something you will learn later on in your lessons from my mother, also do you mind if we feed him a little from our meals?”

“I would not have it any other way my dear.” Iron Pen replied with small kiss to her ear tuffs.

“My little Pensword, come and let us eat. You must be hungry.” She smiled as they sat down, pulling out the various foods they had prepared.  They ate happily at what was now a family picnic.

Pensword, found April Fourteenth , 101 ADF





Hammer Strike stood on the road with Moonshade to his right. Before them in the distance stood a wall that would no longer exist with time. 

Unity.

“Remind me again why I never heard its name until recently? I read some history books but even they do not mention it.” Hammer Strike asked Moonshade, or in this case now, Lunar Fang.

Lunar Fang paused as she let her eyes wonder. “Because, actually I do not know. I think after the end, where,” She paused and nodded the castle. “Well after the event. They wanted to remember the good times. The time when the two.” She smiled and waved a hoof around them. She was trying not to say too many spoilers as they were not the only ones on the road, just the only ones having stopped for a moment to talk.

“Oh well.” Hammer Strike muttered as they continued on. “First I need to find the address, then to the castle. I’ll most likely head there alone while you stay with the ‘friends’ of the Doctor.”

Lunar Fang only nodded her head. “As you wish Hunt Master.” She muttered with a lowered gaze.

“Please do not...” Hammer Strike said.

Lunar Fang sighed. “As you wish sir.” She replied looking annoyed at the exchange. “Shall I find the address for you at least?”

“I’d prefer you staying near, due to the incident at Baltimare…” Hammer Strike muttered. “Fools, the lot of them.” He muttered again.

“Very well. I shall not leave your side unless asked to do so.” She muttered softly. She stiffened but relaxed as some older guards walked past in a little more heavy armor then the present guards, but with how Hammer Strike was dressed and the submissive attitude of a Thestral, they just kept on walking, ignoring the event. They had a patrol to complete and so far it was peaceful.

As the pair continued continued on Lunar Fang heard Hammer Strike softly say when they were alone and out of ear range, “I just do not know what I would do if something happened to you as well.”

“I shall let you know that Lunar Fang lives to reunite with the other two and leads a part of your army.” She replied with a snark. “Do not worry too much about me, okay?” She asked as she looked around and shivered. “I, I am, I am Lunar Fang.” She chirped, going on a familiar topic. “I, I am going to surprise Pensword and kiss him, and, and..” She took on a giddy look again. Before having to squash it as ponies once again entered the street, passed them without comment until they were alone.

“Only have thirty-six years to go.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “But at least with the help it will pass by quickly.” He smiled faintly.

“That is good. I, I, do you think I would make a good statue?” She asked, as she pondered just what it would be that would keep her preserved for Pensword.

“Not going to be a statue, trust me, it is not enjoyable…” He answered back.

She blinked and opened her mouth before pausing, then shut it again and looked at the ground. “I hope they are doing well, those two just… have stuff happen to them no matter what they do to avoid it.” She had a little worry in her voice now.

“Do not worry yourself, they are not even here yet.” Hammer Strike answered softly.

“Understood.” Lunar Fang replied as they kept on walking along the road. “Uh, you do know where the building is located right?”

Hammer Strike paused as he pulled out the paper given to him by the Doctor s he checked the address once more before looking to his right.

“Uh… Yeah.” Hammer Strike nodded towards the building. “We are here it seems.” He replied before heading towards it. Upon arriving at the door he gave a quick look to Lunar Fang, a question in his gaze asking if she was ready for whoever was going to answer.

Lunar Fang only glared back at Hammer Strike, shifting her weight a little to show she was prepared for most anything that she could think of. Which having not known the Doctor as well as she should have, meant she was not nearly as prepared as she should have been.

Hammer Strike only gave a slight shrug as he knocked on the door.

The door opened several minutes later for a rather short wide headed earth pony wearing a black tuxedo. “Yes ma’am?” He asked.

Hammer Strike only shook his head lightly at the comment. “We were sent here by a mutual friend, the Doctor.”

“Strax, who is it?” A rather high class sounding voice called from inside the house.

Strax looked at them. “I suppose you and your gentleman friend better come with me.” He said opening the door.

“Uh…” She walked up to look at this pony. She just could not decide if the pony was blind or something. She opened her mouth to speak in trying to correct that she was a mare, not a stallion, nor this… Gentleman thing.

“Not worth it.” Hammer Strike whispered to her as they entered.

He led them inside the house and down the halls into a rather large dining hall with a polished blackwood table. Sitting at one part of the table was a brown furred, red maned pegasus wearing a simple black gown. Not far away was a figure wearing a black gown but also a veil covering its face.

“Guests, ma’am, they claim to be friends of the doctor.” Strax told the veiled figure.

The veiled figure turned to them. “Is this true?” She asked carefully.

“Given that he gave us this address, combined with the walk from Baltimare, yes.” Hammer Strike replied.

“I feel I must ask are you from the past or the future?” She asked.

“If I could answer that fully I would, for history seems to show both ways. For now though, the future, but some of my past is still a mystery to even myself.” He answered.

“Joyful, could you please check the locks? Strax, the window covers.” The veiled figure said immediately the pegasus made her way to the doors closing them. The click of the locks could be heard moments later. Strax carefully brought the black curtains over the glass windows blocking out any prying eyes. Joyful brought out an old oil lamp and lit it placing it on the table. The figure carefully removed her veil, revealing what at first glance resembled a pony. However, on a second glance several things made themselves known. Rather than fur her face was covered in thick green scales. Her mane seemed a bit more rugged than a normal pony’s, almost like lion fur. Her teeth, for what little they saw of them, were pointed. Her eyes were slitted in the low light and from her forehead sprouted a horn more akin to a antler than a unicorn horn.

“I am Vastra.” She introduced herself. “This is Joyful Flint.” She gestured to the pegasus mare, “And you, of course, have met Strax.”

“A pleasure to meet you. I am Hammer Strike, and this is Lunar Fang.” He said in response, gesturing towards the thestra.

Lunar Fang only stared, but soon gave her own tentative nod of the head with a slight smile, showing her own fangs. A gesture in her culture showing that she considered them on equal ground. She raised up and opened her mouth. “I am sorry, but, may I ask a question in return to our questions?” Her tone of voice as polite and civil.

“I am a Kirin” She responded to the question before Lunar Fang could ask. “Or Reptilius Equistrius if you are of a scientific persuasion, now I am trusting you are a stallion?” She asked.

“You’re a stallion?” Strax asked surprised.

Hammer Strike only pulled up his sleeve and turned the gem, and with a small flash he stood on two legs as Shawn once more, his head tilted at a small angle to keep his head from touching the roof. “Technically, yes and no.”

The Kirin face hoofed. “The ones the doctor sends me. You are male, yes?” she asked.

“Yes.” He said, swapping back to Hammer Strike.

“And why has the Doctor sent you to me?” She asked. “Forewarning, if I detect anything untrustworthy about any of you, I will eat you.”

“Let’s see, full story or the shortened one?” Hammer asked.

“It would be better if I knew everything.” She noted. “So the long version, I suppose.”

“Then I suggest a pot of tea and some refreshments. This will be a long,” She made a verbal pause on Long. “Conversation.” She finished.

Hammer Strike and Lunar Fang arrival at Unity, June Fourth, 88 ADF.





“Come on, concentrate on the now. Do not let the world distract you.” Graff shouted as he brought the blunt knife tip down on yet another vital point.

Grif grunted as he felt the strike sink in, likely leaving a bruise. Over the past years the small gryphon had grown from a cub to a fledgling. Graff had taught him what he could of speaking both in the native tongue of Gryphic and the tongue of Equestria. He had worked heavily on writing and reading. Grif took to reading it, seemed like fire, consuming the books almost as quickly as Graff could get them. Physically, the elder gryphon had worked on the younger’s body strength through hard exercise and heavy training. In the time Graff had found many interesting factors about the child, the largely notable being that he favored neither tallon in any action. To fight with both talons was a skill many warriors sought to gain over a period of many years. To be born with the ability was very rare indeed.

At a young age Graff had begun teaching Grif about pain and how to endure it. Being alone with no brood and no clan the pair’s lives were hard in the rugged land. All types of pain were the regular results of everyday struggles to survive, and the sooner Grif learned to ignore the pain, the better life would be. At six years of age (determined mainly by the time Graff found him) Graff had decided to begin his son’s instruction in weapons starting where every gryphon began, knife fighting. A knife was vital for everyday life. They were small and easy to hide. learning to properly wield a knife was a skill that would serve a gryphon well throughout his life.

Graff stabbed the practice knife back into the ground and stood in the ready position. Grif shambled to the other side of the small worn area they used to train and did the same. The two stood opposing each other. Time seemed to stop as they glared, each trying to read the other, to find some tick that would speak about the path they would take with the blade. Graff was an experienced fighter and hard to read, his expression stony as he watched Grif.

Grif, however, was young and untried. He was like an open book to the older warrior. It took almost no time for the gryphon to decide how to proceed. At some unseen signal both roared, grabbed their knives and charged. Grif made several slashes with the blade that Graff sidestepped with little effort before leading with a rough blow with the handle to Grif’s back. Surprisingly, the young gryphon did not go down from the strike. With a growl he turned on his back kicking up dust.

“Never expose your underside!” Graff yelled as he went in for the obvious strike. He felt the dagger tip rest against flesh as his tallon pinned Grifs to the ground the feel of metal under his palm revealing he had chosen the right hand. But when the smoke cleared it revealed the younger gryphon smiling. Even as Graff had the blade to his throat, Grif had a fully extended tallon resting precariously on his father's throat.

Graff gave a small grin as he backed off. “Never too proud to use your talons. You are listening to me.” He chuckled.

“Never let your enemy know you are paying attention unless engaged in battle.” Grif quoted. “Some things have to get through, old bird.”

“Well this old bird isn’t finished with you yet. Get back up. You have a long way to go, hatchling.” The gryphon warrior laughed as he returned to the ready position. One thing was clear, the spirits had a purpose in store for his son; and he would be damned if he wasn’t ready when it came for him.

Training day, June Sixteenth, 107 ADF





Pensword looked up at the teacher who loomed over him. Yet he did not seemed afraid of her presence. He only held out his own chalk board and the writing that he had created. She took it with her magic and glared momentarily at him before looking at the chalk. She furrowed her brow. “Where did you learn that word?” She asked underlining a word.

“My father taught me that one.” He liked the idea that he could spell flower correctly, yet what she had underlined was a word that he did not see a big deal about. “Mightier? What is wrong with that?” He asked while a few of the other students snickered at him.

“Just that you should not be pushing yourself.” A student called out behind him. “A bat bird like you would strain your brain if you keep on making up spelling.”

Pensword ignored the comment, though his ears twitched a little to show he heard. “Is there anything else Miss Saltwater?” He asked as she only turned to move back to the class.

“Yes, you are staying past for detention for not following directions. I asked for you to copy the sentence on the board, not invent new sayings, Pen mightier than the sword? Your father and mother are filing you with nonsense, nothing is stronger than the sword.”

Pensword bristled, he was not sure why, but he did. “Is not the purpose of school to know and push the boundaries of our knowledge?” He called out, causing the class to fall silent as Miss Saltwater turned around with a stormy glare. She took a ruler in her magic.

“Come up to the class Pensword. Talking out of turn, talking back to the teacher, being disrespectful of the teacher, not finishing your assignment, ten swatches of the ruler.”

Pensword glared. “Make it fifteen because I shall not just let that go, what brings thought of pride for he who wields a sword? What makes the fire in the heart of ponies blaze? Words Miss Saltwater, words penned by the poet, by the playwright, that is why it is-” He did not finish as the ruler swished, smacking Pensword’s smallish frame. He took it. He took all twenty lashes of the ruler. Not saying a word and only looked forward.

Miss Saltwater glared, pointing a hoof to the door. “Out.” She whispered, trembling in anger once she was done. “Until I talk to your caretakers I shall not want you setting hoof into this school room again. You are done for the day.”

Pensword only turned around and moved to take his things. “NOW!” She shouted. “Leave your stolen goods here and I shall think of returning them to you if no one else claims them.” Pensword paused, glared, and took only one thing from his desk, a feather pen his father gave him. He tucked it behind his ear and went to the door, ignoring two kicks from the the back row where a bully sat. He took his cap and placed it on his head before leaving the classroom. It did not help that he overheard one of the students snickering.

“Glad the half breed’s finally gone. He should just realize this is too much for his mind to handle.” The class laughed at the comment but Pensword ignored it. He steeled his expression and walked home, head held high and face solemn. He did not know what might happen next but he was going to continue forward in his life.

His family lived, as it turned out, in a home on the outskirts of town. He had to walk around the the market to avoid some of the stalls, as well as Mr. Whinny’s yard. He finally arrived home thirty minutes later. As he walked into the room he blinked as his mother who was painting in a small corner of their cottage stood up, placing her palette of paints down. She trotted over to her son and hugged him. Only then did he let it out and cry into his mother’s shoulder.

“Hush dear,” Moon Beam cooed. “Its all right, I had a feeling today would be hard. In fact your father and I have been talking and we feel that it might be better if we just tutor you ourselves. That means some different subjects, but I think you can do well. In fact, I wrote to my clan and they have agreed to allow my brother to come visit to teach you counting and arithmetic. He learned that while employed to a smith in Unity for the last five years.”

“Uncle Sickle Moon?” Pensword asked with shock and a smile. He snuggled a little now with his, mother feeling safe. “He’s funny. When will Gramma visit again?”

“With your Uncle.” Iron Pen replied as he walked in from the only other room in the small cottage. It had what was called an attic by his father that had been built by his father’s father as a wedding gift.

Still, the news that his Gramma was visiting caused the small pegasus to smile and start hopping around the room. “Yeah, I love it when Gramma visits. She is so fun and she has amazing stories as well.”

His mother smiled softly and stroked her son’s mane, right before a cry from the corner of the room stopped everything. She turned around and raced for the crib that was there. “Hush now, Hush now, little Whirlwind.” She whispered, picking up a baby foal from the crib. She smiled and started moving to the other room. “She’s hungry. I’ll be back a little later.” She muttered as she entered the other room, closing the door behind her.

Pensword only blinked but smiled as he looked at his father. “Where is Moon Burn?” He looked around the room before a blur launched from the platform above their heads, tackling Pensword. The two tumbled out the door with laughter as Pensword started to wrestle with his younger brother. A moment later the two were panting and laughing. While Pensword looked like a mix of his parents, his brother was almost full Thestral. The only difference was that instead of the normal yellow for his eyes, they were an emerald green color. Also, his coat was pure black and his mane and tail were a light chestnut brown.

Iron Pen only smiled as he moved to the other door leading to the “back” of the cottage and the cooking fire there. During the summer months they would cook outside. While in the winter the second room was used to cook with the large hearth and fire there. It was also where he would work on his papers and writing for the town.

“Well, come on, Should we not get to learning more of your writing?” he chuckled a little. “Also, your mother is planning a surprise for your birthday. So try to stay out of her way for the time being. Also, help out around the cottage. Just know this, she is planning something big for your birthday.  And if you’re extra good, I just might give you a hint at what it is.

From Class to Home, March Seventh, 107 ADF





“...and that about sums it up.” Hammer Strike finished with a hoof to his jaw as he thought for a second.

“So two of your friends were sent back in time by the Weeping Pegasi and the Doctor believes it would be to this timeline. However, the only time you could meet them again is in the way history has decided you will meet?” The Kirin raised a brow.

“That is correct.” He responded. “Minus some details we are to talk about later.”

“And now you need to get into the palace to meet Princess Celestia so that you may set up a noble house so that thirty-six years later you can meet your friends?” She clarified further.

“Yeah.” Hammer Strike answered.

“And you plan to circumvent the time between by using Timelord technology to freeze yourselves in a moment in time?” She finished.

“I’ll tell you more on that later.” He answered.

“Joyful.” Vastra turned to the pegasus. “Contact Lord Pansy and inform him I will be unable to make our appointment, then see to getting our guests cleaned up and ready for a trip to the palace.” She noted, slipping her veil back down as the doors were unlocked.

Moonshade, now Lunar Fang, shivered at the name. “I,” She leaned over to Hammer Strike. “Lord Pansy in this time period made it a ruling that school only teach to those untouched by Thestral blood… Luna will repeal that after a brush from the future.”

“Tough times are ahead of us.” He replied.

“I’ll have baths drawn for the both of you.” She noted, “We shall make for the palace in exactly two hours.”

“Perhaps it would be best for Lunar Fang to stay here.” Hammer Strike mentioned.

“What? I am not going to just let you go wondering about this city unescorted. I mean, I, you are the last of the three charges I was given to guard with my life. I will not let you also slip from my grasp.” 

“And I do not want any harm to come to you, I do not know how the guards will react, as you have stated and as history dictates, we have a problem. And I would rather you stay here and be safe than enter the castle and have the guards stop you to wait outside.” Hammer Strike said, his tone seemed to raise. “I know it sounds like a terrible idea, but this is something that has to be done.”

“Come now sir, it won’t be so bad.” Strax attempted to cheer Lunar Fang up. “We will get this all sorted out, find your friends and cover them in acid.”

Lunar Fang actually moved to a crouch as if to attack, “You dare to try that and I SHALL RIP YOUR LIMBS OFF!” Her voice rose as she outright yelled at the strange stallion type, thing. She was not even sure if she was looking at a pony at all.

“Ah, perfect, there is the fire! Keep that up and you’ll be tearing your enemies apart in no time.” Strax smiled, excited at the reaction.

Lunar Fang just stared, more liked glared. “You are a Pony I do not like,” She looked to Hammer Strike quickly. “I think I will stay here, and keep an eye on a threat.”

“Good.” Hammer Strike replied softly.





“Take it in.” Graff said calmly as he eyed Grif holding the bow. Grif was nine years old and Fledglings were expected to learn the gryphon bow at this age. A Gryphon bow was a much larger weapon then a pony bow. It stretched out a full four and a half feet unstrung, coming down to just under four when properly strung and ready. Made from two separate pieces of treated wood, the bow had a clasp and a specially made hinge at the center allowing for it to be bent fully in half when on the move. Two strings carefully braided together allowed for extra tension and force. However, the bow itself was hard to draw and it was expected for a young warrior Gryphon to completely be able to draw the bow and shoot it before their teenage years.

The bow was almost as important as the knife in a gryphon’s life as it not only aided in war, but also in hunting.

Grif, however already had the bow half drawn despite the weight. It was unusual but not unheard of for a gryphon to be able to draw the bow somewhat at a young age. But to draw it so far and hold it was something Graff was unprepared for. The older gryphon verbally coached the younger through proper breathing and concentration as Grif carefully notched an arrow like he had been shown.

“There is only you and your prey. The arrow is a part of you. Will it and it will obey. Consider your target, examine it, visualize where the arrow will land, and above all else, missing is not a possibility. Do not make it a possibility and you will not miss under your own power.” The target was a simple bit of hay crafted into a bundle. Graff eyed Grif’s stance as the youngster locked his drawn arm in place giving full control to his other arm as he sighted down the shaft. “And when you feel the time is right, loose.”

Grif took another moment and released the arrow. The shaft took off from the bow and quickly imbedded itself in the inner circle dividing the outside and the center.

“Well, your target isn’t dead, but you managed to stagger him.” The elder gryphon laughed. Grif perked up hearing this. He smiled wide at his fathers praise.

“Don’t let it go to your head. If your target is still breathing, he can still gut you.” The gryphon added.

“Of course” Grif nodded dutifully.

“Try again. This time I want you to do as you do with the throwing blades.” The gryphons looked to another target this one in the rough shape of a pony and lined with deer skin. The heart, neck, and head areas resembling a well used pincushion. “Tune all out but the wind, let it speak to you, find what it’s telling you.”

Grif took the bow up once more, after starting at it for a time something seemed to click. He held it in front of him in a diagonal fashion. Drawing another arrow he notched it and drew, this time utilizing the muscles in both his arms and his abdomen. he drew it back even farther. Leveling the bow with his eyes he looked at the target with a fixed glare. The wind blew at his face carrying the salty scent of the ocean. Grif closed his eye’s for a moment and took in the feeling of the wind, all gryphons loved the wind, being the one force pegasi didn’t actively dictate from nearby Equestria, the wind was free and did as it wished. Grif’s eyes opened slowly as the wind at his face died away. Quite suddenly the young gryphons talons released their hold on the arrow just as the winds changed course and a breeze erupted from his back, the arrow took off on it’s deadly path before embedding itself in the target. Less than four inches above the bullseye.

Graff just stared at his son curiously.

July Eighteenth, 110 ADF





Pensword smiled as he walked with his mother into the woods surrounding the Mountainside. In fact they were heading towards what was going to be a birthday party. He looked at his mother. “Mom, are we going to the brook?” he asked with a small smile. 

“Yes dear, your father and I thought that it might be fun to have your birthday where we found you. Now please know that we are only guessing your age at the moment.” She looked at her son and ruffled her wing over his mane a little. “We first thought you might have been a year old, only.. I think we were wrong there. So we are going to be celebrating your ninth birthday here.” She smiled before looking to the horizon. “My dear little Pensword, I want you to know that I love you. You will do amazing things. Just follow your heart.”

“I will mommy.” Pensword replied with a smile. He looked back towards his mother. “Mom?” He asked before barreling through the question. “When will I get to go hunting?” He did not miss a beat. “I heard the mayor talking at the market and he says that some of the border is a little shaky. I, I want to protect you and Dad and Whirlwinid, and Moon Burn.” He blinked back as for a moment his mother saw eyes that held what Thestrals called wise old eyes. Another blink and they were back to the cheerful bright eyes that she loved. She gave a side hug with her wing while they continued to walk.

“Well, I guess I can give you that little surprise early, but tonight I was going to take you camping to start teaching you what you need to know. Most thestrals go on their first hunt on their tenth year. Now, when we go camping it will not be just about the hunt. I need to teach you how to survive out here, to live off the land. Thestrals are semi nomadic so I will teach you how to live off the land and how to treat wounds.” She smiled at her son. “As my oldest, I also have a duty to teach you the customs of my side of the blood line. Symbolically, I gave you my blood, and your father gave you his blood to make you of our lineage. You are a part of me, as I am a part of you. You then must help teach your brother Moon Burn. And when your sister comes of age, you and your brother must teach her what you know.”

They walked through a few more trees and they were there, the brook babbled and played.  And old boulder had crashed from the top of the stream after the first year, standing on the river bank.  It had come to be called Orphan rock by the family in commemoration of his finding and adoption.  Around the rock stood his father, brother Moon Burn, and sister Whirlwind, who was trying to climb the rock while flapping her leathery wings and making sounds that were cute chirps and whistles. Pensword smiled. “Does that mean I get to help her learn to fly?”

“Yes, my son.” His mother replied with a smile. “That is part of being an older brother. Also to protect her from any suitors that may wish her ill.”

Pensword nodded solemnly, well as well as a nine year old colt could act solemn. “I shall do my best mom.” He replied before brightening up. “MOM!!! Gramma is here… GRAMMA came to visit!!!”

His mother only smiled and pushed him a little with her head. “Well why do you not go say hello? Perhaps she will be willing to tell you a legend from our family tonight. It is your birthday and you are old enough, I think, to hear some of her stories.”

Moon Beam smiled as she watched her son race off towards her mother. She shivered a little and pulled a sketch pad out from her saddle back and began to draw. As she did so she began to cry a little as a little bits of white glowing specks twisted and and turned in her eyes. “My poor, poor baby.” She muttered. The sketch pad showing the outline of what later generations would recognize as Queen Chrysalis.

She suddenly looked up as she heard a cry and found her son laying sprawled out on the ground, on his back blinking and giggling was Whirlwind who moved to try and hop up again and she saw her hover for a moment an inch on the ground only to fall back down on Pensword’s back with another giggle as her son grunted in annoyance. She could not help but laugh as a moment later her ears heard Pensword telling his sister to try the same trick on her other brother who was laughing at the antics and who missed the verbal request until he found Whirlwind landing on his back while Pensword chuckled. He walked up to his brother and plopped to the ground with a happy sigh. Smiling, Moon Beam closed her pad. It could wait for later. She would join and enjoy her time with her family.

April fourteenth, 110 AFD





The palace of the two pony sisters sat in the sunlight, both welcoming and foreboding, threatening and comforting, beautiful and terrible. It sat as a monument to pony building power and yet the knowledge of the powerful being who embodied it made even the strongest stallion stop to consider the implications of it.

In the courtyard on this sunny day Celestia stood brandishing her practice sword in front of five fully armed and ready members of the elite military. The two sides stared each other down for a small eternity before some unsaid signal passed between them. The five rushed their princess fiercely. Celestia, for her part, responded in kind as her sword rained down in practiced thrusts and slices, each carefully timed and elegantly accomplished. 

Hammer Strike raised a brow as he watched, still at a distance. For some reason his mind took in any possible patterns in the attack, from both sides.

The battle carried on as Celestia traded blows with a guard in front of her, another charged her from behind, grabbing a fallen guard’s club in her magic she intercepted the charging guard with an upward swing, the force from the swing completely flipped the stallion over landing him heavily on his armored back.

She hooked the tip of her blade in the guard of the other soldier’s blade, flipping it from his control, the blade being seized in her own magic as it came down, hovering with Celestia’s an inch from the soldier's neck.

“Yield.” She said, her voice seemed much lighter than Hammer Strike remembered, but it held a dark undertone.

The guard threw up his hooves in surrender and Celestia dropped the swords as ponies stomped in admiration, or more likely fear of their princess’ display.

“Wunderbar.” Hammer Strike commented, surprisingly close by. The guards having missed him.

In a knee jerk reaction Celestia who still held the club swung it in the direction of the voice before turning her head. The club in question hit Hammer Strikes muzzle at full force.

Only to cause his head to shift slightly to the left .

He stood there a moment, blinked, then he lowered his head and put a hoof on his muzzle, shifting a little. “Ohoho.” He chuckled, looking back up to Celestia as he put his hoof down, his eyes taking in her response. “Good hit.” He gave a small grin. “Hello Celestia.”

The princess’ eyes searched his face with several different emotions, Hammer Strike could see surprise, joy, hope, disbelief, denial, and possibly… shame? “It, it can not be.”

“It has been a long time, has it not?” He questioned as his brain processed the emotional reading. “But, enough on that. How are you doing?”

Celestia looked at Hammer Strike then at the nearby nobles. “LEAVE US!” Celestia shouted in the Royal Canterlot Voice. As the words left her mouth the nobles, servants and guards scrambled away, hastily grabbing the soldiers and leaving the courtyard bare save for she and Hammer Strike.

Once they were alone she approached Hammer Strike, poking him with a hoof, running it gingerly over his face. “What type of trick be this?” She said poking his nose.

“No trick, but business left unfinished.” He commented before she poked his nose. “Good hit by the way, I think you might have broken my nose.” He said with a slight shrug.

“If you truly be him, then you would say something completely out of the box.” Celestia noted “But it has been more than seven hundred years.”

“I am sure I covered the out of the box saying, I did just compliment you on possibly breaking my nose.” He said, chuckling lightly.

“....” Celestia squinted at him. “I suppose this is so, but if this be some sort of cruel joke I will drop the full force of the sun on thee.”

“Perhaps this could alleviate some of your conflict.” Hammer replied, pulling out a scroll from his saddlebags, the one given to him by Future Celestia.

“So it is another letter from our future self.” Celestia said analyzing the scroll, scrutinizing, then proceeding to incinerate the scroll with her own magic, still sealed. “Very well.” Celestia stood tall as she stared down at him…..

… And then she glomped him.

His stood there, confused a moment as he glanced left and right.Then he tentatively returned the hug.

“You always come.” Hot tears trickled down Celestias face as she embraced him. “Just when you are needed most.”

“I would not just sit by.” He replied with a soft smile. “My question still stands, how are you?”

“Villages along the border are vanishing at a phenomenal rate. The gryphons have shut off all communications and trade. The ponies complain about the zebras passing through Equestria, and the diplomatic room is still being cleaned after what I did to the minotaur ambassador.” Celestia sobbed as steam clouded above them. “I’ve failed at everything you taught us.”

Hammer Strike took in the details as he listened. “You have not failed, there are problems rising yes, but you have not failed.” He said. “Action is required, not fighting, not when you do not know all the details. Have you sent search parties to the location, and scouts to nearby towns that have not fallen yet, out of sight?”

“They have all been empty.” Celestia said. “By the time a team gets to one of the villages it’s been picked clean, the buildings still stand but there is nopony for miles.”

“Have you tried sending soldiers to possible targets, and keeping them out of sight but keeping watch on the city?” He asked.

“I can’t send a team of soldiers to a border village without some sort of proof or else it could be called a provocation for war.” Celestia said.

“Do your troops know the basics of surviving off minimal requirements, and are very good at remaining out of sight?” He asked.

“You sound as if my soldiers are able to move like Thestrals.” Celestia laughed.

“Perhaps an idea for you to look into, or perhaps one under the cover of night.” He mentioned. “Specifically you Luna.” He called out.

Celestia looked around. “Luna? But, she is n…”

The shadow of one of the plants stretched outwards towards Hammer Strike before darkness bled from the ground taking the form of the lunar alicorn and quickly gaining color as the blue figure collided with him.

“HAMMER STRIKE! IT BRINGS US SUCH JOY TO SEE THEE AGAIN!” Luna shouted not too terribly far from his ear.

Hammer Strike’s expression didn’t change much before he took a breath in and finally spoke. “You might have to give me a moment. I got that sentence, but my ears are ringing.” He blinked a couple times. “Would you kindly not use the Royal Canterlot Voice?” He asked, smiling as he returned the hug.

Luna smiled sheepishly. “We are sorry, we were just overcome with joy to see thee again.”

“It is wonderful to see you both well.” He replied, still grinning softly. “But I have sadly come for more than just visit.” He said.

“What dost thou need? Name it and it is thine up to half of Equestria.” Luna offered.

“I am afraid what I require is unavailable for years to come. I hope neither of you mind my house being revived once again.” He chuckled. “I have plenty of years to come, but I need to get some things set up first…”

“We shall offer whatever assistance we can. What will you need? Where would you request for your holdings?, Name it and it will be yours.”

“Somewhere near, of course.” He smiled. “But first, there is somewhere I need to... “ He sighed. “Set things up. I need to talk to you alone at some point, Celestia.” His mood had flipped from a smile to something serious. “And Luna, we have much to talk about later, perhaps later in the day or night when you are free.”

“Of course.” Luna said before yawning. “But we must return to bed, we hope we will be able to show you our work before our trip to Gryphonia.” Luna said. “Our smithing has improved greatly since thou saw it last.”

“Good to hear. You might have to show me some of your projects when you are awake.” Hammer grinned softly again.

Luna nodded as she left the two alone.

“So what words did you have for us?” Celestia asked Hammer Strike.

“The place I need to set this up at is somewhere only you and I have access to.” He said. “There are, some things that need to be stored securely.”

Returns, June Sixth, 88 ADF





The island Grif and Graff’s village currently rested on was a mere couple dozen square miles of rocky terrain with no real tree’s for wildlife. So it was common for gryphons to fly to one of the larger islands to hunt. Grif stalked carefully through the deep wood of the uninhabited island due south of his home. He was no stranger to the wood or the necessary silence of tracking. However, this time he was alone.

Grif was twelve now, he had been with Graff on a few dozen hunts over the last few years, being trained in the necessary skills for tracking and killing game. now grif was finally allowed to enter the forest on his own to see if he could provide game for himself and others if necessary.

Back in the very far back gryphons had been aerial hunters. But hundreds of years of new ideas and new technology had caused them to shift their efforts to primarily on foot. Setting his bow down the young gryphon lowered his face to the ground to examine a hoof print. Judging by the size and the indent he could tell it was a deer but the mark was old, over a week old. retrieving his bow the gryphon carried on.

Tracking was a sensitive skill, every step needed to be carefully calculated, every sense used to carefully monitor the forest around them. Sound, sight, feeling, even taste was necessary in keeping on the trail while also keeping oneself invisible. It was a good hour later that grif came across more tracks, this creature was something new, similar to a deer but larger and heavier, still the tracks where fresh, he stalked through the forest with a practiced movement. A half hour later he found a clearing, standing in the clearing was a large deep brown creature. It stood on four hooves but at almost two feet taller than Grif. It’s eye’s showed a general contentment with it’s simple grazing, no hint of intelligence, Grif smiled at this, Graff had been very strict about checking for this feature in the past, he had made it very clear to Graff that meat should never be taken from the bones of an intelligent being. 

Grif smiled as he observed the creatures large antlers, this would be a mark of pride for Graff to bring home such a large beast. Carefully, Grif raised his bow, notching a arrow. He moved to take aim for where the neck joint would be, it would be a fast kill, near painless. The gryphon aimed carefully taking record of his target and the wind and drowning out all else. He was just releasing his grip when the creature let out a loud grunting sound, Grif stepped back cracking a twig under his paw as he released the arrow. The creature looked up as the arrow went low taking out the large beasts knees. The creature hit the ground with a thud and bleats and cries of pain echoed.

Grif drew his knife, his talons shaking as he approached, only once had he seen Graff miss a shot, the deer they had been hunting had been hit in the lung, a slow and painful death, the elder gryphon had been quick to take his knife and slit the creatures throat giving it a merciful end. now Graff looked at the beast he had hunted. Without a doubt the arrow had snapped the legs at the knee, a wound that would never heal. Shaking like a leaf the young gryphon looked into the creature’s face as it called to him in a pathetic pleading grunting. “Forgive me.” he said, before plunging his knife into the creature's throat. For the first time, the hot splatter of blood covered Grif’s feathers.

Grif took a minute to breathe. Guilt, of course, attempted to cloud his judgement, but practicality and reason beat it down. He had intended to kill the beast and despite how it had happened, the deed had been done. To leave the body behind would simply result in some predator gaining a free meal from his hard work. Calming himself Grif knelt beside the belly of the beast and began the grim task of cleaning the carcass for travel. Looking at the size of the beast he realized he would possibly need to flag down a fishing boat, towing this creature across the lake would be impossible. It was larger than he was.

The way things are, October Seventh, 113 ADF





Pensword looked around fluffling his wing feathers as he followed his family into the pasture beyond his their property. The lands belonged to the princesses but they were open to the public. The reason for this journey was to visit with his extended family on his mother’s side. He did not know why his mother was looking back at him so much, but it seemed that she was agitated. Still, she forced a smile. “Dear?” She asked her husband with a smile. “I will take you and the youngsters to the banquet table in our honor.” She smiled as two warriors stepped from the shadow. They were in mismatched armor and carried wooden daggers. “I think my mother wants to speak to Pensword at the moment.” She turned and kissed her son on the head. “Now behave yourself dear and listen to your grandmother. Now what is her name. Not what you call her but what does the rest of the tribe call her?”

Pensword blinked, smiling a little. “Shimmering Star. Her husband was Crescent Sword, their oldest daughter was you, Mom, Second oldest and next in line to take Grandma’s place is Dancing Star, then a younger brother, Mountain Star. Mountain Star is married to Glistening Dew, and they have three children.”

His mother held up a wing. “Okay, okay Pensword that is more then enough information. You will do well, now, how do you address Gramma?” She looked to the guards who were waiting silently.

“Leader of the Night, Clan of Dreams, Moon kissed Shimmering Star.” Pensword replied with a smile. Moon Beam nodded and smiled in approval while the two guards stepped forward to escourt him to his Gramma’s tent. It was not till the others were out of sight that one of the guards spoke.

“You do not need to call her those titles. You are her first grandchild. She said to tell you that you can call her Gramma if you so wish.”

Pensword only smiled. “Moonkissed Gramma.” He muttered with a smile. “I like that sound.” He blinked at the two guards, who chuckled as they approached the tent. Candlelight streamed from the inside.

“Clan Leader.” The guard on the left called out. “We have brought you the pony you wish to meet with tonight.”

A strong, commanding voice of the feminine gender answered. “Let him enter and stand guard. Lower the outside tent flap after he enters.”

“As you command.” Came the voice of the Guard to Pensword’s left. Pensword gulped as he felt a pole push his hind legs forward into the tent. Behind him the tent closed, cutting out the slightly chilly mountain air and the fresh blanket of snow on the ground. Inside the tent was dyed in many night time and subdued colors. In the middle of the rug laid floor, a fire crackled merrily, and lanterns hung from the poles holding the roof of the tent up.

From a sedan of cushion an old Thestral Mare with white mane and tail got up and trotted over to him. “Grandson.” She replied happily as she embraced him with her hooves.

“Moonkissed Gramma.” he replied cheerfully with his own hug. Gramma chuckled as she released him from her hug. “You, you wanted to talk to me? Is, is mommy in trouble for teaching me Thestral stuff? Because I begged her to and,” He found a hoof on his muzzle while Gramma chuckled brightly.

“No my child, she is not in trouble. If anything I am pleased she is teaching you. In fact I asked you to come here so that I too may teach you.” She moved to sit down on her sedan. “Come, sit at my hooves and learn a little tonight.” She paused and smiled, her eyes seemed to twinkle like starlight.

“First, I must bring in a clan recorder.” She tapped a hoof to a small metal disk that emitted a nice little ding when tapped. A moment later from another part of the tent, a smaller Male Thestral with charcoal mane and tail and an Onyx coat stood with yellow slitted eyes. “Silent Night, Make a record that I do hereby pass a title to my grandson, he is of age to earn his first title.” She looked back and leaned towards her grandson. “Pensword, it is without shame you prance about in my tribe and yet you do not have a proper name of a Thestral, you father does not use his, nor can I really go against the fates in giving you your own. However as your mane and tail are white as the moon, as I am too. I give you a title for which all Thestrals that come through will know. You are Moonkissed, the Moon upon your birth saw the importance of your life and to remind you that the day is only half of the world, kissed you to give you your mane and tail so as to remind you always of what guards the night sky.” She looked back at Silent Night. “Make it so and make it known to the tribe that we have another Moonkissed of the tribe.” She smiled a little as she waited for the Thestral to leave. “A cousin of yours.” She smiled as she let Pensword speak in excitement.

“Your grandson from Dancing Star and Moon Wolf.” He responded with a happy smile.

“I see you are learning your ancestors, for a thestral that is important. Keep this up and we may give you the records or let you transcribe the records of your direct ancestors.” She smiled before she let it droop a little, her voice changing. “Pensword, my grandson,” She looked around and patted a part of the sedan. “Please, join me up here and learn about a secret of the Thestrals.”

Pensword blinked and quickly moved to sit at his grandmother’s side. He looked confused, but remained still as his grandmother surprised him by answering his unasked question.

“Pensword, my dear, dear grandson. I do not just call you that by adoption, but I truly consider you part of this family.” She looked at the tent. “Before you arrived, I truly feared my daughter would only have sadness to come.” She paused as she moved a hoof to have her grandson look back at her and not at a corner of the room.

“Still, you must learn that to many outside of the Thestrals, they see these powers are hoaxes and make believe. Tonight you shall be given a glance into two of these magics. Before you ask there are three. They are as follows. Dream Stalkers.” She smiled. “Thestrals believe that a nightmare given time, will grow stronger and become manifest into the real world, that is why those with this gift become guardians. They sleep when we are awake so when we sleep they can hunt the bad dreams. They also craft these webs.” She pointed to a large pattern sewn into the top of the tent, then to a smaller one hanging on the side of the sedan. “These are to catch the nightmares to let the hunters finish them off with a little more ease. Still there are times they slip past and they must hunt in the dream world.” She smiled. “When you sleep tonight, you shall be given a dream of what that is like.”

She turned to another part of the tent. “The second is those that dream beyond. Those you can see all around, the images along the wall are of things past, present, and to come. Things that some say are hidden, can be seen by those that dream beyond. They also can see a bit into the future, things that will impact their lives in ways unthinkable. They do not know when or how or what will cause it to happen, only that it will happen. Sometimes these events they catch a glimpse of are ages away. The first time I heard of this, it was by a little colt who said he saw a bright shiny metal object as it sailed across the black expanse of the night sky like a sail boat would across the ocean.”

Pensword turned back to his grandmother with a curious manner. “What is the last one? You said there are three.”

“This one is rare, very rare. In fact none in this tribe possess it. It is the Sight Beyond. They catch glimpses of friends, or family who have gone before. They see past the curtain of life into death.” She blinked and turned her grandson’s face to her again. “Why do you look over into that corner?” She was fearful that he was too much like a squirrel to learn any more.

“Why do you ignore the stallion who is smiling at you with love and pride like my dad does with my mom?” Pensword’s question pierced her mind and heart like an arrow as she looked up to the corner and quickly smiled and nodded her head. She looked back down.

“Because my dear, he knows that I am teaching you and I think he would not like it if you were to ignore my teachings tonight.” She pulled him into a hug as she had a rare event. She had a slight moment of a dream. She hugged him tighter. “Oh, you shall not understand me but I can see where my daughters have gotten their gift. I can only say that you will be confused by these words. Death will touch you many times, and some day your past of who you were and where you came from will be answered. You have refused to follow death. I am proud you have not. I exhort you my grandson, do not follow him any time soon.” She pulled away slowly with some tears. “Before we continue onto the details, I wish to tell you this about those with the sight. They almost always have great tasks ahead of them, and they draw from that gift to help them through those hard times.” She smiled. “Someday, I feel you shall meet one who can have sight beyond, when you do, I feel you shall know what comfort they can give.”

She let go after a little time. “Go, go and join your family for your meal. Go and eat.” She smiled as she made a shooing motion with her hoof. “Go on, I shall join you in a little bit.” She smiled, waiting for her grandson to gallop away before sighing and sinking a little into her Sedan. “Bring me Parchment and ink.” She hollered, knowing she had to get a sketch down. She blinked away tears as in her mind she heard and saw a town being destroyed by fire while belongings were packed away to some unknown location.

Hearth Warming 113 ADF





“Alright.” Hammer Strike said. “So that is finally set up.” He said, staring at the system before him. At the moment they were located in a back room, which was used to store books that were not meant for public eyes.

“I have set everything up carefully.” Celestia said. “No one should be able to find the two of you without our knowledge.” 

“So?” Lunar Fang asked as she looked around from under her cloak. “Why are we here? Also, just what is this plan you are going to do that will keep us young?”

“The plan is to use this device to basically, in short, put you in a painting. We’ll be in there for the time and then when it is time, pulled out. To us, it will be only a moment, perhaps a couple of seconds, but on the outside years can go by.” Hammer Strike explained.

“Is this more of this time magic?” She snorted. “What kind of friends have you made and will make with time involved.” She muttered. “Stuck in a painting. That sounds downright fearful. I mean being turned into a two dimensional painting just seems wrong.”

“Trust me, it is not as bad as being a statue.” Hammer responded. “You would be just like I was, awake, and watching the world go by.” He responded.

She shivered. “Waiting and watching and not moving?” She smiled. “Uh, send me into the painting please, I think I would like to get this over with as fast as possible.”

Hammer Strike smiled as she put her hoof onto the orb. “See you in thirty something years.” His smile shifted slightly.

Her body glowed for a moment before seemingly dissolving. a few moments later the painting in front of them gained a small, nearly unnoticeable figure in the background.

“Well that part is taken care of.” Celestia noted. “Now comes the fun part.”

Hammer Strike smiled, turning sad as he looked at the painting. “Sorry.” He muttered as he turned towards Celestia. “Now on to the next part… Where did we put the Golem?” He asked.

Luna came into view quite suddenly from the shadows holding a life sized replica of Hammer Strike in her magic. 

“Wonderful. Now we just need to put my consciousness in there and my body in there…” He said looking between the golem and the painting he was to enter.

“Are you fully prepared? This likely will not be a pleasant experience.” Celestia noted.

“As prepared as I shall ever be.” He replied.

“You realise controlling the golem will mean you will not be able to sleep for the entirety of the time between then and now?” Luna asked.

“It is only... “ He sighed. “Around thirty-six years…” He took a breath in. “But I do not have much of a choice.” He looked to Luna. “I have to.” He gave a sad smile. “And I am willing to suffer if it means getting who I came for back.”

Celestia’s horn lit as she turned towards Hammer Strike. “Very well.” There was a sudden blast of white light. Hammer Strike felt heavy inertia followed by an intense dizziness. The light faded moments later with him currently floating in Luna’s magic.

“Oh good grief.” He muttered shaking his head lightly.

Celestia gently moved the orb to the now unconscious body’s hoof. In moments, it too translated into a painting. This time it was a lone figure standing on a rocky landscape.

“And so begins the resurgence of house Strike.” Celestia noted.

“Once again.” Hammer chuckled. “As said, if you need me, I will be around for thirty six or more years.” He smiled sadly, his eyes looking at the paintings once again. “This is going to take some time for me to adjust to this…”

And so we begin, June Sixth, 88 ADF





On a high, rocky cliff, Grif stood across from Graff in an old worn in circle. The older gryphon stood holding a large two handed axe. Grif stood with a one handed sword clutched in each talon.

“Aller de l'avant ancien bird.” Grif taunted the gryphon in front of him. In the last couple years Graff had been teaching Grif Phrench, the language was spoken a lot back in the lower Kingdoms of Gryphonia and was the most commonly spoken language aside from Gryphic in the empire. Graff’s father, Groff, had been very adamant that Graff should learn to speak the tongue fluently and Graff had taken this standard with his own son. For the last two years the two had spoken to one another almost entirely in this dialect.

“Vous ne devriez pas être si rapide pour répondre à vos doom jeune.” Graff responded before charging, axe raised. Grif parried to the left, avoiding the charge by inches before lashing out with a sword on Graffs lower back. Grif was fourteen and had been spending the better part of the last two years learning the weapon that he had taken too, the one handed sword. he had spent time with the two handed axe Graff was known for but in the end he liked the speed the two lighter weapons offered him. Not being a swordsmen himself, Graff had needed to ask for help form one of the few gryphons who would be willing to hear him out. Grif’s sword training had been swift and brutal, but the results had been obvious. Grif was talented with the sword and able to used both hands in tandem with the natural agility of a gryphon to quite an effect.

Grif made the mistake of sparing himself a laugh, only to be smacked in the face by one of Graff’s wings. As the younger gryphon staggered the older took his chance to recover and resume the offensive, the air whistling with the cry of his battle axe.

Grif was kept for the most part on his toes as he avoided the powerful axe. Practice weapons or not, those swings could break bones. Finally catching an opening, the young gryphon managed to lock one of his blades under the haft of the axe and return with a second swing to the abdomen.

Graff staggered backwards as Grif took the offensive again. Swinging his arms with timed strikes, he managed to push the old gryphon back. He swung for Graff’s talons with the intent of disarming him, only for the elder gryphon to suddenly duck and charge hitting him under the jaw and sending him to the ground. 

“Pas encore prêt peut-être?” Graff laughed a bit. “C'est assez pour aujourd'hui aller laver” the old gryphon ordered. Grumbling, the younger gryphon got to his feet. Rubbing his jaw, he sheathed the blades and headed inside to clean up. One day he’d beat that old bird.

Still not ready, July Seventh, 115 ADF





Hammer Strike stared at the clock in his room. Four thirty-two PM, he read to himself. Giving a sigh, his eyes turned back towards the desk he was seated at, his attention heading back towards the calendar before him. December 25th:

Hearths Warming.

The only thing that came to mind was spending it with friends and family, but there was a slight problem with that.

He leaned on the desk, placing a hoof to the side of his head as he tried to think of something to do. The workers were given a break to go visit family, and he didn’t want to bother anyone, or anypony.

He shook his head, taking a look around his room once again. He was given a room to stay in at the castle while his house was being built.

A flash in the room caused him to blink a few times, his attention turning towards the edge of his desk, a scroll tied by a red ribbon sat there, waiting to be opened.

Reaching over he grabbed the scroll and broke the wax seal holding it together.

‘Hammer Strike,

I hope you are well, we are sending Luna to accompany you to our Hearths Warming dinner with us, this is not a big formal event, so you do not need to worry about any bothersome company. We hope to have you join us.

~Celestia’

There was a sudden pop in the room behind him, causing him to turn around to find Luna.

“Nice to see you Luna.” Hammer Strike said aloud.

“Good evening Hammer Strike.” Luna smiled.

“Certainly, though I have found myself sitting in this room for the most part.” Hammer Strike responded.

“We figured thou wouldst be.” Luna responded. “Hence why we decided to have you over.”

Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Company tends to be nice…”

“You are always so distant on your visits.” Luna sighed. “We enjoy the time we have with you.”

“I…” He sighed. “I am just trying to bring myself back from what happened not too long ago.” Hammer replied.

“It will not come easily if you are alone.” Luna said. “The company of others can help to sooth the mind.”

“You tell me that, but you should know how difficult that is for me.” He responded.

“I know.” Luna sighed. “But we must try.”

Hammer Strike sighed in return. “And try we shall.” He said as he stood up. “Well… Shall we?”

“Yes, let us.” Luna smiled.

Hearths Warming, December 25, 88 ADF





Pensword paused as he took in the winter landscape before turning to his mother. He looked back at the tracks as he moved the small bow from his back. While doing so his mind recalled the dream he had. He had seen the Nightmares, or rather representations of the creatures that feed on a Pony’s nightmares. They were dark creatures, full of shadows and twisting shapes and forms. He saw how the Nightmare snares worked, as well as how a Dreamstalker worked with the snare to end a Nightmare. He also was given a glimpse at hunting Nightmares that avoided the Snares. Still, it was a most interesting night. 

He looked back to Moon Beam. His mother was only watching this time. She was there to make sure that he would do the right thing. He was hoping not to bleed his kill this time. However, he was prepared to do anything. He paused as he swiveled his ears, catching a noise. He filtered out his mother’s own sounds as he moved slowly behind a bush. Pushing himself low to the ground he inched towards the opening and saw the creature. A deer was grazing and it would, he realized, make a nice gift  to give to his gramma’s tribe. They were still camped out due to the heavier snowfall this year after the new year came and went. He moved the bow and notched an arrow crafted using his own molted feathers as fletching. He slowed his breathing and crept slowly before pausing as he noticed the Deer freeze, its own ears swiveling around looking for the noise it heard.

Pensword pulled back and while knowing he had a poor angle, he had to take the shot before the creature bolted. He paused his breathing and let the arrow fly. The arrow’s song was music to his ears as it cut through the silence. It hit the Deer, or rather, buck, with a solid thunk. A moment later, it collapsed to the ground, taken down in one shot. Pensword blinked in wonderment that he had hit the mark. His mother rushed to check the creature and looked back at her son nodding her head in amazement. “My son.” her voice breaking the silence of the spell. “You are ready for your lone hunt. But first, come, and let us prepare this creature for trade with the diamond Dogs who live in the mountains this time of year. We will tan the hide as well to give to your Gramma to display with pride in the camp.”

Pensword smiled and nodded his head. “Of course, mother.” He replied as he stepped forward before he jerked his head and notched another arrow to his bow. He saw shadows moving about the border of the meadow.

“Well, well, well.” The voice called as the shadows walked into the clearing. “A thestral teaching a kidnapped foal and turning him into a creature of night and nightmares.” The Unicorn wearing armor of a mercenary was smiling almost with a gleeful look. Behind him where two pegasus. “I do say, if you will stay still boy, I will save you from this monster’s spell.”

Pensword did not let them finish as he spoke still pointing the arrow at the unicorn, who had yet to draw his sword. “She is my mother. I was abandoned by my birth family due to my looks. She and my father adopted me and I shall not let you free me from my family. You make another move-” He did not say another word as the Unicorn had brushed him off as he pulled a throwing dagger from the belt, that was as far as he got before an arrow buried itself into one of the few exposed parts of the armor.

Pensword quickly drew an arrow and lose it again at the Pegasus who charged his mother and found himself suddenly tackled and pinned by the mad Pegasus he had left alone. He could see a dagger tied to the wing and he did not close his eyes, he only narrowed it and spat at the Pegasus as he read heroes did in defiance. The Pegasus roared and moved to end his life only for Moon Beam to finish the job with her own hunting arrow. Pensword pushed the mercenary off himself and looked around the meadow. “Mom,” he began. “We should get a sled and bring this stallions in, the guard might have a wanted poster for them.”

His mother gave a curt nod, the took a close look at her son. “Are you alright?” She asked as she looked around the meadow. Her son had taken two stallions down without a problem. She looked back and could see him shaking. “We will rest.” She replied. She thought he was shaking from shock.

“How dare they.” Her son finally spoke, his voice laced with silent fury. “How dare they try to send you to the night glend already. Do they not respect life?” He looked to his mother. “I am tired of being told my family is a monster to society. You heard that traveling wordsmith last fall. How can Unity not see you as a tribe to be included in Harmony?”

“Son.” His mother replied with sadness. Pulling him into a hug. “My son, know this. Your gramma says that the day will come when we shall stand as heralds of the moon goddess who sits on the throne next to the sun. That day will come, but we know not when.” She smiled. “Be patient.” She paused and hugged him closer. “Thank you.” she muttered. “Thank you for acting and not being your father. He would have continued to talk and try to end this with words, you saw words would not work and so, you ended it how they lived. Fate chose you to bring their reward this time.” She stood up. “Come, we have much to do. And as you said, we must bring these stallions in for identifying.”

Growing Up on the Frontier, January tenth 114 ADF





Hammer Strike had a very interesting way of dealing with morning, mainly by sitting in his office with the curtains closed to keep the light out and sorting through mail and documents that required his attention.

Upon entering his office he found himself staring at a scroll wrapped up in a red ribbon with a certain royal seal on it. Giving a glance at his calendar he realised a possibility of what the letter was about.

“Oh, please no.” He muttered moving over to his desk to take a seat as he opened the scroll.

‘Good day Hammer Strike,

How are you doing today? I was wanting to ask, will you be attending this years Grand Galloping Gala? If so I hope to see you there, I know last year was a little slow, but I am sure things will pick up this year.

Hope to see you there,
        Celestia’

He sighed after reading the letter, having been to last year’s Gala, he quickly found out he would prefer to stay away from them. It mostly involved little interaction with the two sisters and having to walk around dealing with other nobles instead. While interacting with some were fine, a majority seemed to want to try and gain something from him.

With a sigh he grabbed an empty parchment from one of the drawers and prepared himself to write his response.

‘Hello Celestia,

I am fine, how about yourself? Also, I would rather stay away from the Gala.

Sincerely,
        Hammer Strike’

With a nod he finished up and sealed the scroll with his own wax seal. Reaching into his coat he pulled out the lighter that Taze had owned. He paused for a moment, looking at the lighter before flipping it open and igniting it, the flame green instead of its normal hue.  Putting the letter over it, it quickly burned away before collecting itself in a small cloud and flying out the window through its small opening.

He extinguished the flame and placed the lighter back inside his coat pocket. He shook his head, reaching over and opening another scroll, this one being a document that required his signature to approve the work on a new section of his home. Before he could even reach for his quill another flash happened in the room and a scroll landed on his desk in front of him, again sealed with the royal seal.

Raising his brow he reached over and opened the letter to reveal another message from Celestia, though this time much shorter.

‘Please?’

His eyes ran over the word a couple of times before he sighed heavily, grabbing another blank parchment and writing his response.

‘Fine.’

He rolled it up and sealed it, quickly sending it before he placed a hoof to his head. “What did I just agree to…?” Another flash, another scroll. Breaking the seal, he opened it, a golden ticket drifting onto his desk.  Two words shimmered in the light.
‘Thank you.’

He stood up, placing the ticket into his coat pocket and headed out the door. He would finish reading the other letters and documents later. Entering the hallway he found himself staring at a very decorated hallway, having a general dislike for the whole over the top decorations thing.  But the architects seemed to love them. He didn’t argue and just told them specific rooms to make and where to make them. It was interesting to hear their confusion to having a forge so close to his own bedroom.

Every now and then he would pass by a servant or guard and gave them a quick greeting as he passed by, having spent his time remembering each and every one of their names. After a time he found himself in the forge, various creations and projects scattered about the room on stands and armor dummies.

And the Gala I go… Again, July Tenth, 90 ADF





“I got a boar.” The gryphon laughed as he hefted the creature out for his friends to see. “Look at the size of him! There has got to be a good twenty pounds of meat on him.” He braged.

“Did you guys see the foundling on the beach with a barge? I’ll bet he made it so he could get back without being noticed from the air, that way he won’t have to embarrass the old bird when he comes back empty handed.” Another gryphon laughed. 

Sixteen, the age when gryphon fledglings became young griffons officially. Old enough to fight in a war, old enough to live alone if they pleased, old enough to try and win a female. It was the age of energy and ignorance amongst male gryphons. Too smart to be taught anything by the older generation, too strong to be beaten by any danger the world set out for them. To be sixteen was to survive to adulthood, to be immortal, invulnerable, infallible. Such was the arrogance of youth.

The group of gryphons laughed and poked fun at the others kills telling of their own bravery and how they surely would be the one who songs would reveal about one day. They turned to the sound of creaking wheels with amused disdain as Grif came into view. The gryphon was harnessed to the wagon, his body looked ragged, some feathers were misplaced, others were broken. his eye was swollen and he seemed to be attempting to avoid putting weight on his right talon. Behind him the wagon was carefully covered with some bulging mass. The Gryphons paid him little mind as he towed the load towards the hut he and Graff occupied.

“Hey there foundling.” One of them jeered. “How went the hunt? Did you see my deer?” the young Gryphon made a show of how he hefted the animal on his back.

“That buck was already old” Grif said as he passed. “The meat will be tough and gamey.” He warned not even bothering to look at them.

The gryphon scowled, his precious pride marred by the worthless orphan who was raised by an old, senile bird. “I did not see you flying back with your kill.” He sneered.

“Couldn’t fly back, sprained a wing in the conflict.” He said. “Even if I hadn’t, the weight would have been too much to lift.”

“Oh what is wrong, the hatchling hurt his wing trying to kill the little bunny?” One shot back as his peers laughed. Grif simply shook his head.

“Rabbit’s not good game, there is not enough meat on one to feed a hatchling. The old bird is under the weather. I need enough game for both of us.” He said, hauling his wagon ever forward. “And by the way, the elders will not be happy with that boar. She had another month in her pregnancy yet.” Grif kept hauling his cart. the young males looked on in distaste, normally such words would be grounds for a fight, but none of them wished to soil their blades with the foundling’s blood. One of them snuck up behind the cart snickering, he’d cut the cart so everyone could see whatever embarrassing quarry the foundling had brought back.

The covering tore away after only a small tear the weight of the two sets of large antlers more than the fabric could bear. But it was the other sight that stopped the other gryphons. Three sets of large clawed forepaws stuck out above the antlers…. cougar paws.

Big game, September Twelfth, 117 ADF





Pensword was walking through town, already looking at the parchment rolled up and under his wing. He was heading to the guard post in to announce that he was going to hunt for the grizzly bear that had been terrorizing the bee hives. He was currently wearing the armored helm from the pegasus thug that tried to kill his mother, as the captain said it would do well to show the rest of the new settlers that he was not to be trifled with. It did not help that the others had tried to place him in jail for killing. Still, he slowed even more as his ears picked up sounds from the guard post. He slowed to a halt as a group had gathered.

“That bear is a menace.” One pegasus cried out while it looked like a Unicorn was glaring. 

“No it is not. It is just an animal. Just because it got into your farm land does not mean-” The unicorn was shouted down by the same Yellow Pegasus with three bees as a cutie mark.

“That bear just killed Grandpa Story.” The silence from the crowd was staggering.

“So, an old fool got killed. So what?” The Unicorn muttered as he looked at the others around him.  If looks could kill.

“The bear attacked the screened Gazebo, and went right after him. That bear has tasted Pony flesh, and must go before it gets bold enough to hunt closer to town. Something woke him up and he is hungry.”

Pensword only turned around and began walking away. Only to see the Captain walking quickly to the post. The two seemed to exchange looks before he fired off a magic sound maker from his horn. Pensword heard his words. “Don’t worry, we got some trackers going after the bear. If they don not work out, I am going to ask the Thestrals near town to help if they have not moved on.”

The next sound Pensword heard after a pause, was the sound that he associated from the tavern. He blinked and figured out something. That new Unicorn must have said something derogatory towards Pensword’s family. After all, at the moment the town saw him as a local hero, those three had been part of the Black Wing gang. There most likely were others in the area, but at the moment they were not attacking.

The next hour was spent gathering supplies, gear, and his hunting bow. Pensword smiled and stepped into the winter snow. Only a month since his last hunting trip with his mother. They went camping almost weekly, but this time, this time he was hunting on his own. Either he came home with that bear, or he would become a part of nature and feed it for his mistakes.

The following two hours saw him alone, with the sun moving towards the horizon already and the sounds of silence. Pensword stood on edge, silence at this time and this weather meant a predator was nearby. He paused as he saw something that worried him. Another camp, only it was torn up. He slowly poked his way to the outskirts and saw a sight he would never forget, it seemed the poor bandit that was sleeping in his tent had been another victim of this bear. First his brother’s beehive, then the beehives of the Beefeathers, now Grandpa Story Bee. This poor Mare, this bear would prove a problem if left alive. He steeled himself as he paused. He quickly turned and found it, assaulting a wild hive in a tree. Without thinking, Pensword dropped low and raised his bow. He fired off the arrow he had just notched and was already midway to having notched his second arrow when the first buried itself into the neck of the grizzly. The bear fell hard onto the ground and landed on the arrow jamming it further. The bear did not move after falling and Pensword slowly approached the creature as he saw no breathing. He moved closer still as the buzzing of the hive lessened. It seemed the Bees could see that he was a friend at the moment and he was there to take the problem away. He found himself with a problem. The bear was dead. The arrow had severed the spine it looked like, and secondly, the bear was far too large and heavy to move. How was he going to move this bear? He wondered, when from the woods he saw other Thestrals moving forward in shock.

“You?” The lead Mare began. “You killed a Mad Bear?” Those words froze Pensword’s blood. He had found and killed a mad bear. He heard stories of creatures gone mad, invulnerable, hard to kill, shrugging off normal wounds that would stop others. Yet … He looked at the bear. “Can I have some help then?”

The Thestrals only smiled. “For Moonkissed Pensword, killer of the Mad Bear, we shall be more than happy to bring it back to camp.” She turned to the group. “New Moon, go to town and inform the guards that the mad bear has been brought down by a grown Thestral on his first hunt.” She turned and smiled. “Tonight shall be a night of feasting, drinking, and you shall claim an item from the bear to wear to show your first kill as a Stallion.”

Pensword nodded. “Very well. I humbly accept your invitation.” Pensword replied to the group. He actually liked the title moonkissed. “I wonder what Gramma will say to this.”

The Mad Bear’s End, February Sixteenth, 114 ADF





Hammer Strike sat in the forge. Before him was a sketch on a new weapon, one he wanted to practice with. His mind followed the details that he marked down on the style and markings on the blade. As he looked at the document his ear twitched, a soft voice called for his attention.

Looking to his right he stared at the door, expecting somepony to walk in, only to have none, but the voice once called again.

For some reason he couldn’t make out the words. It sounded near. Maybe he was just hearing something through one of the doors. Perhaps one of the help had a problem and had to bring it to his attention. Even though he would show no anger or disappointment, for some reason they always feared bringing him bad news.

Opening the door he found no one. In fact the guards had already done their sweep of this area and it was just him. His brows furrowed and he looked around the hallway. ‘Defectum’

His head snapped to the right, in the direction of his office. He heard the voice once again, and it was bothering him now. His brows lowered again as he walked towards his office, opening the door to find again, no one there. ‘Defectum’

His ears caught the word but his mind didn’t register its translation. He paused, questioning how he knew it needed to be translated. ‘Defectum.’

His head snapped to his right, the voice sounding close, but at the same time his mind finally captured the voice. “No…”

“Defectum.” The voice said again, his head snapping to his left.

In his sight he saw a figure but he couldn’t register who it was. “Who are you? What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Et quomodo sustinebis?” The figure asked, his mind finally figuring out the language being used, the one language in Equestria that only he knew, Latin.

“How could I?” He muttered the translation. “What do you mean?”

The figure was silent.

“What do you mean?” He asked again, his tone shifting a little. The silence bothering him as he finally felt something shift. “What do you mean, Moonshade?” His tone raised a little. But as soon as his mind caught up with him he realised that the figure was not in front of him.

Soon after, his mind registered that he saw and heard Moonshade, but that was impossible. He shook his head, looking at where the figure was before finally he made up his mind on what to do next.

The journey was silent as he walked alone to the locked off section of the library, or technically the secret section of the library. The guards having known to let him through and to never question why he was headed there.

Before him, in the section hidden from prying eyes, sat the painting holding Lunar Fang, Moonshade, and the other holding himself. Having been given the information on how to get her out he followed the steps, mentally checking them off in his head as he did them, freeing her from the painting.

The painting developed cracks before somehow the font shattered like a pane of glass. Lunar Fang laid on the floor for a moment before rising to her hooves. “Time up already?” She asked

“Not yet.” Hammer Strike said. “I just… Needed to pull you out for a moment.” He said.

“What do you mean? Weren’t we both in those paintings for the time we’ve been gone?” She asked confused. “It feels like it’s been only a few moments.”

“Perhaps for you…” He said softly in response. “I am sorry, but…” He looked over at the second painting, the one containing him.

“What’s going on?” She looked at the spot his gaze pointed to then back at him.

“It’s only been…” He paused thinking on it. “Ten years or so.” He replied. “Perhaps if you looked a little closer.”

“But you're sleeping in that picture, how can you be out here?” She glared at him.

He looked back to her. “I could not exactly set up my noble house and leave it for thirty six years… So I worked with Celestia and Luna to make a Golem for myself to use while my body would stay in there, unaging…” He shook his head lightly. “I lied, saying that I would go into a painting and wait as well, but I didn’t want you to have to wait as well.”

“So why wake me up then?” She asked.

“I needed somepony to talk to. One that I do not have to lie to or act kindly to just to have them ask for things in return.” He sat down. “I have been awake for ten years, and for once I just want to talk to somepony that I do not have to act like somepony else.” He sighed.

“So why do something so stupid?” She asked confused.

“Because I need something to break this chain, I am starting to forget things that I should not, I can not even remember some faces…” He said softly, his eyes seemed to be dull.

Moonshade approached him slowly placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Are you really the same person?” She asked...

...and then she punched him in the face. “Now of all times you start to get worn out? The human who defied death three times in a single day? Who wields the sun like it’s his toy? The stallion who lead a rebellion against Sombra and BLEW UP THE WALLS OF THE CRYSTAL EMPIRE! NOW YOU GIVE UP? ARE YOU THE SAME PERSON?”

“HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF YOU COULD NOT EVEN REMEMBER THE FACES OF YOUR BEST FRIENDS AND FAMILY?!” He roared in return. “I COULD NOT EVEN REMEMBER YOUR FACE.”

“Is that why you have Pensword’s gun in your holster? Because you couldn’t remember his face?” She asked

“I do not want to forget.” He replied softly. “But I need something to remind me of those around me…”

Lunar Fang leaned forward and threw her hooves over them. “We’ll see them again.” She promised him.

“It hurts so much to forget.” He muttered. “This was why…” He started quietly. “This is why I lied… I did not want the same to happen to you.”

Lunar Fang perked for a moment seemingly remembering something. “Do you remember that crazy snowball fight Taze had the guard wage against the foals?” She asked him.

There was a pause. “Somewhat…” He responded.

“When the Ponyville newspaper ran the article the next day, Pensword had me look over the pictures they asked us to pre approve for the article. Much to my embarrassment, I’ve kept one.” She reached under her breastplate and produced the photo. “It reminded me just how Great things could be.” She offered the picture too him.

Taking the photo his eyes ran over the picture, taking in details as his mind tried to piece together names.

The picture was in front of the Punch Bowl after the fight. Pipsqueak and the CMC stood in front as Matthew, Taze and Shawn stood together with Moonshade sitting beside them. They all smiled at the camera like idiots, saluting happily. Taze was still wearing that ridiculous bicorn hat.

For the first time in a long time Hammer Strike found himself chuckling a true laugh, a small smile on his face. “I can faintly remember that day. The cold winds, the soft snow…” His shoulders relaxed slightly. “To think, it was just…” He stopped, looking at her with his small smile. “Thank you.” He said holding the photo to return it.

“You should keep it.” She raised a hoof. “Make a frame and use it to give you a vantage point in time.”

He glanced at the photo again before nodding and placing it in his coat pocket carefully. “We will have to get another one when we return. Twenty six years is a long way for it to travel.” He smiled again. “But I shall see to it.”

“We already know we will see them again, it’s simply a matter of weathering the storm.” Lunar Fang said. “If there is anything you three taught me, it’s that a bad situation is a victory simply wrapped in a bad package.” She rolled her eyes. “Taze really has gotten to me. Have you marked important days for them? Yourself? The three of you? It may help to pass the time.”

“I have marked days that I can remember, birthdays…” He paused, blinking in thought. “I have been keeping an eye on the news about the Gryphon Empire. And I have been writing a number next to the year to remember how long I have to go.” He paused. “I think I did it for that reason.”

“Have you set up a secondary residence near the northern isles?” Lunar Fang asked.

“Around two or so years ago, after I had a stable hold.” He responded.

“Have you been recruiting healers?” She asked 

“Yes.” He responded.

“Then you are at least prepared for Grif’s coming.” She nodded. “You will have to sleep before that meeting, you know this right?”

“I do not know what day that will be, until then I can not return to my body and rest.” He responded.

“When the gryphons start approaching nobles near you, you’ll know to prepare.” She said. “You know a golem body is nigh indestructible, if you have anything normally lethal you’d like to attempt, now would be the time.”

“I will mark for myself to keep an ear out on that.” He said. “I somewhat figured that out…” He chuckled. “It was interesting to find that part out.”

“I want you to wake me in five years time.” She said. “And start keeping a journal of the days.”

“I shall see to it.” He smiled.

She looked around the room before spotting a new painting. “Was there anything else you needed?” She asked.

“Not that I can remember at the moment.” He responded. “Let us get you back inside.”

With that Lunar Fang touched her hoof to the orb and she was once again frozen in the painting.

“Note to self, bring paintings next time…” Hammer Strike said to himself, looking at the old painting now, well, broken.

Memories, July Twenty Second, 98 ADF





Only one species contested the gryphons’ control over the northern isles. The diamond dogs believed the gryphon villages rested on top of rich gem deposits and had gone every where from demanding the intruding gryphons to leave to violent attacks on the villages during the year. It seemed that it was Grif’s village’s turn to be the brunt of their anger as all around gryphons and diamond dogs clashed.

The recent rise in disease had left the small settlement weakened. Many warriors had been forced to their beds and were unprepared for the sudden attack. However, gryphons were warriors one and all. Only diamond dog males left the dens to fight or to mine. Gryphon females were taught to fight from a young age, just as their male counterparts, even if their training was not quite so extensive. All around, diamond dogs found themselves held off by things as mundane as a garden hoe or a rake. Several shovels could been seen swinging dangerously.

Grif screeched as he scythed his way through the battlefield. The young gryphon was only seventeen, but years of harsh training and exercise had left his body strong. Training under the older warrior he called father had left him feeling rather at home on the battlefield. A sword in each hand, the gryphon moved forward with a fire, barely stopping to look at the diamond dogs before him as the life left there eye’s either from being run through, or simply being relieved of their head by way of their scrawny but easily targeted necks. Grif had a purpose. He needed to get home to defend his ailing father. The dogs fought simply for their greed.

Grif’s body was a mess, fur and feathers colored deep red from the diamond dogs around him or by the numerous cuts he received from glancing blows. He took in the carnage around him as he moved forward. These beasts had no right to be here. This land had been sold to the emperor by the pony sisters decades ago and in turn had been sold to this colony. The islands had been carefully examined. There had been nothing living on over or under them at the time. These greedy mutts had no claim to this island and by the spirits, Grif was not going to let them get it. Grif’s attention was drawn to a fresh burning in his arm as he looked down at the arrow protruding from it. A careful glance told him the head had gone through the soft tissue but had produced no major damages to the arm. Looking up he saw a small dog with an even smaller bow pointed in his direction. Without so much as a formal acknowledgment he grabbed a blade from his weapon harness and threw it, bringing the dog down with a gurgling sound, the blade protruding under his chin.

Grif barely registered the shrill cry signaling the gryphons to fall back as shafts rained down from the air. Around him diamond dogs fell to the ground. The gryphon felt three impacts behind him, but nothing had breached his armor.

In the middle of this battle amongst all this carnage the young gryphon’s blood finally went cold as he saw the door to the small hunt he called home kicked in. Taking to the air he rushed the door as fast as he could. Just barely missing the dogs head as it flew out the doorway. As he approached he saw Graff shakily on his feet, two handed axe in hand.

“I’m sick, not invalid.” The older gryphon grumbled, “Get back there and kill more of them. I’ll be fine. They only got one entrance here.”

Grif sighed with relief, he nodded to Graff before turning. The old bird was grouchy, but he was the only family Grif had ever had and he was not sure what he’d do with his life if something had happened to him. 

With a sword in each hand and his fear dispelled for now, Grif rushed, the battle was a feast for the senses, and he intended to eat heartily.

Blood and Thunder. June Sixteenth 115 ADF





Pensword slowly walked through the silent crowd of his mother’s tribe as they watched. He shivered a little at the gazes, unsure of what they were thinking, or even what they would do with him. He did his best not to show his nerves and fear. He slowed as he approached the center of the gathering. The stars above were visible, the full moon shone like a beacon to all. He stopped as he looked at his grandmother. she gazed down from her sedan.

“Moonkissed Pensword, please, come forward into the circle of warriors.” She smiled a little. “Few children can say much of their own hunt. A deer bounding away from them, a poor shot that turned into a boon for them. Still, even before you took your first hunt you became a protector. Your mother has told me what you did in your last supervised trip; what you did to bring fear to bandits in the area.” She stood up. “Then you go and pick the most fearsome beast in these woods, not because you felt like proving yourself, but because it had attacked your village, your home. It killed and tasted pony flesh. This bear, we now know, was mad. Foaming at the mouth with rage. While that means the meat cannot be shared with the tribe, the fur and bones are still usable. In a months time you shall have a robe of this bear to wear upon gatherings of the clans. We also ask you now, what small token do you wish to wear to show you are a hunter of the Thestral Clans?”

Pensword looked right up at his grandmother. “Moonkissed Clan Leader Shimmering Star, I wish to wear an eye tooth of the bear, it used its teeth to kill, I wear it now to show that all who will kill my kin shall be hunted as I hunted that bear.” Pensword felt a chill run down his spine as he spoke those words and the chill he knew was not from the cold. He stood and glared at his grandmother. “Like the bear, I shall protect my kin as the mother protects her cubs.” he narrowed his eyes. “Let the town know that this applies to all kin in my clans.” The silence that hung spooked a few of the Thestrals as they felt that somehow they had witnessed an oath far deeper and far more serious than it should be.

His grandmother smiled approvingly as the moment passed, the warm wrinkles and scars gave the impression of vast wisdom come with age. “So be it. The Eye Tooth shall be presented to you along with your robe in a month’s time.” She smiled and slowly sat down. “However, your honors do not end here. It seems the reclusive lord of the lands who lives further up the mountain has come down to see you. He has been told of your deeds and it seems Equestria wishes to honor them as well.”

Pensword, with the rest of the clan turned his gaze where a group of Pegasus Ponies dressed in the guard armor of a noble house marched into the crowd as the Thestrals parted respectfully for them. In the middle, Pensword could see two nobles dressed. However what surprised him was next to the Purple coated Unicorn stood an Earth Pony decked in armor with the cloak of a noble. Pensword did not recall any Earth Ponies being given nobility status. Still, he bowed his head and body low to the ground. “Noble Baron Happy Hooves. A pleasure to be in your presence.” 

Thestral Ceremony of Age February Sixteenth, 114 ADF





Hammer Strike found himself entering a town named Mountainside Falls. He was invited to come witness an event, and though he would typically ignore a good chunk of events he was invited to, his mind registered a couple words and for some reason. He felt as though he had to go. He sighed for a moment looking around at the guards that had been selected for the trip due to this being a town near the border.

“I hope you do not mind the venue change.” Baron Happy Hooves said, “It was just that earlier today one of the subjects in the town below us killed a mad bear, and being a half breed, he is being honored by the Thestrals for his first lone hunt. His father asked if I would like to help and show the thanks of Equestria as well for what was accomplished tonight. Do you mind if we dine at night in the snow covered forests with such exotic creatures as these?”

“I do not mind at all. The night does not bother me as I have worked through it for twenty or so years.” Hammer Strike replied.

“As the stories say, you are a smith. Rumor has it you have even crafted the armor you have worn for this trip.” He smiled as the carriage they were riding in rocked as it bumped over a stone. Tilting to the side that Hammer Strike was sitting on. “Now, what was the name of that colt? Pen… pen something.” He muttered as he moved a hoof to some notes at his side. “AH, Pensword.” he smiled a little. “Do you plan to give anything to this colt tonight? Or shall I be the only one to reward such bravery?” He looked out the window and the setting sun. “We have six hours before we have to be at the glen.”

“Depends. Do you have a forge in town?” Hammer smiled a little, his mind still trying to catch up after hearing Pensword’s name, his hoof subconsciously tapping his chestplate for a second, two names engraved on the inside, written in another language to their closest variables that he could remember.

“Well, yes the town has a forge, mostly for making tools for the fields and around the town. Why? You wish to make a small token of your appreciation from the capital of Unity?” The Baron only smiled before frowning as a scroll appeared over his head. He took it, sighing. “My apologies, Lord Hammer Strike. It seems my brother is at it again in wishing to deprive me of what little land I have scraped together. A fourth born, as he put it, should serve his brothers only as a sword bearer.” He tucked the scroll away, “Still, tonight is for feasting and joy. A threat is gone. Two in fact, bandits have fled the region and a bear that would have killed the townsfolks is dead. Tonight is a fine time for feasting.” He tapped the wall of the carriage. “To the local forge, and be sure to pay two bags of silver for its use.”

“I have a feeling tonight is going to be very interesting.” Hammer chuckled. “Well, now that I have work planned out that is.”

“I look forward to seeing what you can produce.”

[five hours later]

“You?” the Baron gasped in shock as he stood in the room of the forge, gaping. “How do-?” He paused and began to laugh. “So the stories are true. You are indeed almost an Alicorn of the Forges.” He shook his head. “No longer, you are indeed noble, truly the Princesses were correct in their choice.”

Hammer Strike shrugged in response.

“I have one question.” As the two boarded the carriage to head towards the ceremony. “What is it? It seems like a blade, but it is unlike any blade I have seen in my life.” He tapped the carriage roof again and they began to move again. “I hope you do not mind but we will have to spend a good half hour walking to our destination, we shall drive as close as we can.”

“I do not mind walking, I once took a journey on hoof from Baltimare to Unity on my own.” Hammer Strike replied.

The noble stared in shock and blinked. “We shall walk then.” He paused. “Did you not run into any bandits? That just seems far fetched walking that long on your own?”

“Bandits did show up…” Hammer Strike started. “I made sure they changed their ways.” He finished.

“Oh, this, I simply must hear this tale. If nothing else it should at least make the ride go faster.  Will you not tell it to me?” He smiled. “I could even have one of my retainers record it for you if you wish.”

What followed was a tale of just what happened. They were just walking towards the fires and the shadows of the Thestrals as he finished the story. “That was when they left and become ,of all things, protectors of travelers along that road. I have hired them many a time when traveling.”

It was here that he heard and saw a young colt with the coat of a Thestra,l navy blue with white mane and tail bowed low to the ground. “Noble Baron Happy Hooves. A pleasure to be in your presence.” Pensword waited for Baron Happy Hooves to cough before he rose only to bow again. “Greetings Noble from beyond Happy Hooves’ domain. It is an honor to be in the presence of two nobles of Equestria.”

Hammer Strike immediately took in every detail, his mind giving slight signs of memories as he traced over Pensword for a moment, his eyes noting his young age, with his cutie mark to finish. “You do not need to bow to me.” Hammer Strike said.

Pensword rose in confusion and shock. “You... Have I done something wrong?” The voice of a young colt, yet a voice that tickled the memories a little more, still looked confused.

“No young one, you have not.” Hammer Strike replied, a small smile starting to form on his face. “What is your name?”

“Moonkissed Pensword, Milord.” The colt replied with a look of pride for the title. He seemed to be a little more relaxed to know he did not do anything wrong in his first meeting with a noble of any station.

“Well met.” Hammer Strike smiled, “So you are the one I have been hearing about from Happy Hooves, here.”

The noble next to him looked at him but he shook his head like a long suffering father over something. “Yes I have told him of your deeds tonight.”

Pensword shuffled a little at the praise. “It, it was just doing the tasks I knew needed to be done.” He smiled a little. “I am sure if the guards were not busy taking care of a brawl in town they would have taken the bear down tonight anyway.”

“But you did not see it as a task for the guard, you saw an opportunity to do something in good faith for the town.” Hammer Strike replied. “I even dare say that you knew the risks and still went for it, did you not?”

“A Grizzly is a dangerous creature, and one that has tasted the flesh of the town,” He looked at the nobles, “Is a threat to all who live here. I went out knowing how dangerous it was and how much I could be hurt. Only after I brought the bear down did I learn it was mad.”

“But the fact still remains that you did it.” Hammer Strike finished. “And that is the reason why we are here on this night.”

Pensword blinked, only to bow his head in thanks. A simple thanks in his body language. He looked up as the Baron spoke. “Now, I am here to give you a request, you may ask anything of me that is within reason.”

Pensword paused a little as he looked at the Baron before finally speaking. “May I read the tactical manuals that the guards study from? I, I feel that the bandits will return and will return for blood, my blood, for what I did to three of their numbers. They will even blame me for the deaths of the bandits caused by the bear. I wish to be ready to defend this land from their attacks.”

The Baron nodded his head. “As you know, those documents were declared restricted by Commander Hurricane the Second. Still, it is a request I will honor, and no matter what may come tomorrow, that request will be honored by Unity itself.”

“Being as I do not know what is in store.” Hammer Strike started with a raised brow. “I have something to give you.” He said, looking at Pensword. Reaching into his saddlebags he pulled out something wrapped in oiled cloth, it was a decent sized object. After giving it one last check over, he hefted it out for Pensword to take. “I have a feeling this will serve you well.”

Pensword blinked, slowly unwrapping the blade.  He looked back up as he pulled the sheath and blade from the cloth. “This is a Southern Isles Kelkie design.” he blinked in shock. “I, I am honored by this.” He bowed again, only to have a hoof stop him, as he looked up he noticed a fierceness in the eyes of Hammer Strike as he shook his head. “O… Of course” Pensword muttered as he backed away.

“Just remember, Pensword, every blade is in need of a name. Be sure to give it one that you will always remember.” Hammer Strike said.

Pensword nodded and smiled. “My Grandfather’s father was a guard who fought in Luna’s Army. Lexington Airstrike was his name. I shall shorten it to just Lexington.” he spoke as he fully pulled the blade from the sheath and gazed upon it. He smiled in appreciation, then he placed the blade back into the sheath and paused. “Adjustable straps? That is a nice touch.” He placed it at his side and smiled as he gave a Thestral salute. His Right hoof to his chest, his left wing out rigid with a curt jerk of the head down and up.

Not there, February Sixteenth, 114 ADF



 

“Has it been five years already?” Lunar Fang asked as she looked around dazed, only to meet silence from Hammer Strike, who looked saddened. He shook his head in response to her question. “What's wrong?” She asked.

“I found him…” Hammer Strike started. “Nothing…”

“Found him?” She asked.

“Pensword.” He said. “I found him, but… There is nothing....” He finished.

“Is he alright?” She asked.

“We have a task ahead of us... Yes, us, in the years to come…” He started. “To get him to remember.” He said. “It was painful to be there right in front of him. He is young, I would guess around eighteen years or so, but he does not remember anything.”

“But it is him?” She asked.

“I could somewhat hear it in his voice.” Hammer Strike replied. “It helped me remember some things…” He sighed. “The time is so close, yet so far. Only ten more to go.” He said.

“Maybe it’s set so he’ll remember when he reaches the age he was?”

“We can only hope…” He sighed. “We can only hope.”

Time will tell, February Nineteenth, 114 ADF





Pensword stood still as his mother smiled from behind her easel. She was giddy as if enjoying a secret moment that Pensword could not understand. why was she smiling so much? “Mom, Can… do you have the sketch? I am going to be late for class.” he was shocked that the access to the books he had wanted meant that he was in a way, a reserve guard. A term coined for his special position, a class that he had been taking now for over a year.

His mother only smiled a little. “Yes dear…” She paused and made a dramatic motion with a wing. “There. You can head off to classes again. I will expect you to be home tonight for your birthday Dinner.” She smiled as she watched her son trot out the door, already wearing his reserve kit. While not the best armor, it would help protect him from bandits. She returned to the painting, her smile becoming sad and melancholy. “It will be a shame,” She muttered as she slowly began to paint part of the sketch, as she painted, it seemed almost like two pictures were being finished at once. “I wish I could have gossiped with you, Lunar Fang.” She sniffed a little, smiling as well. “I know you will protect my little bundle with your wings.”

Pensword was trotting quickly when he heard a sound that chilled his blood. Pick up speed, he extended his wings, flying low to the ground. The bells from the school and town hall were ringing now, a frantic sound and he rose higher to the sky. He pulled Lexington from the sheath, bracing for the worst.  Then he saw it. He saw a sight that chilled him to the bone. Gryphon and Pony were flocking and turning around the air. He pushed himself into a more air streamed manner that landed him through a gap and into the guard huddle he quickly assessed that the captain was dead from an arrow. He could see that the guards were starting to buckle and he saw that the school house was where his friends had fled. 

“Fall back.” He shouted. “Set up around the school house, Flyers, take your bows to the roof. Unicorns, Start throwing stones at the enemies.” He swung his blade and Lexington pushed back a Gryphon who had tried to scatter the cluster. “Fight back and keep yourselves covered.” He darted to the market and without ceremony, tore the sheets away from the top of the stalls. “Come on, Unicorns tear up the stalls and the wood. Throw then at the enemy.” he broke a pole and swung it at an Earth Pony Bandit knocking him senseless before the pole was yanked from his grasp by three unicorn bandits. He looked at them. “Cover me. Throw anything. Use anything as ammo.” He adjusted his helmet and felt a pull but ignored it as he charged at the three unicorns using the blade to actually cut the pole from their magic grasp. It clattered to the ground and Pensword, in a move of sheer stupidity and youth, charged into the middle of the group. He quickly swung and took out the first of the unicorns, breaking a wooden shield and blocking a blow from another. Pensword kicked his rear leg, connecting with the unhelmed third who had was about to gorge him from behind with his horn. He felt the shield he had used begin to tug away and he let go while pushing with his forehooves. The momentum hit the final unicorn, knocking her senseless. 

Pensword turned around, pushing off the ground as he clutched the quiver of the town’s archer. He landed on the back of the Gryphon that had hit the ground where he was standing. He wounded the Gryphon and he paused for a moment, thanking the Moon that these Gryphons were not like those in the books. He took a bow off its back and pulled back cutting off the air from entering its lungs… He was only able to black the Gryphon out before another tried to attack him. He quickly let go and took to the air, causing a friendly kill to happen. Still, he gripped Lexington.  Something was off.  Pensword felt like he was too close. He was in the thick of things when he saw a weather team with some clouds. “LIghting Attack, Lighting Strike those in the air.” he ordered as he dove, rumbling filled the sky. He did not know if his voice was heard or not but regardless, he kept fighting.

Pensword dropped onto a crippled Pegasus Bandit knocking him senseless, he hoped, before a cry came up. The gryphons were pulling back and pulling what wounded or dead they could with them. Pensword could see that many of those around were about to follow.

“HALT!” He ordered as Lighting still struck, helping to force the retreat of the bandits. “Let them go. We have our own dead and wounded to tend, and defenses to build.” He turned around as he saw the looks of his friends. His younger brother was holding a sling in his wing. A moment later a stone dropped from the sling. “What?” he asked as he turned he felt the pull again. He turned his head.  Two arrows were sticking out from his armor, right in the gap. He winced as the pain rushed in. He sat down, heavy, sore, and battered. “Owe.” he moaned a little while the local healer walked up to him with a tsking sound.

The Arrow is notched. One May 115 ADF