[Blazing's entry]
New voice in my head. A Separated companion. Eight days of travel before I stumble upon another sign of civilization.
Hammerhoof told me that my next stop, something I didn't understand on the map I bought, would be a heavily fortified inn on the edge of the Separated territory. It is supposed to be the crossroad between Ponyville, Canterlot, Vanhoover, and Crystal Empire. From there it is only two days southeast to Ponyville through a safe area.
He also explained to me the meaning of the Separated badge I was shown. The crystallized white tree is a symbol of King Chilly, and the entire Separated territory looks like a forest of icy trees. It's supposed to be really beautiful. We'll see.
The Hammer and Nails mercenary company led by Hammerhoof is a group of about hundred caravan guards located in Ponyville and taking escort jobs between the civilization hubs. They usually come in great numbers even if their clients are traversing 'safe' roads, because banditry is fairly common, although not ripe. According to Hammerhoof, ponies choosing life outside of law have hard time finding out of the way places because they are just targets for Corrupted so they have to band together into larger camps or communities in cities masking their true nature. Guards cannot really root them out completely because there are few ponies, and old cities are large and still fairly desolate.
The only exception is supposed to be Ponyville. With the new town growing from the two thousand ponies Twilight led in an underground enclave, the original inhabitants restored what was possible after Nightshade opened the surface to them again, and the town grew to accommodate the new generation and ponies from other cities.
Ponyville's not the biggest, that's the Crystal Empire, not the most populated area, that title belongs to Manehattan, nor the shining beacon of new times, that's still Canterlot, but is considered the core of new Equestria.
[End entry]
The white griffon's long tongue coils all over my talon-sized body, drenching my coat in sweet saliva. I lick the soft, steamy and strong flesh and grind my nethers against it as my tiny form is brought towards a massive beak many times larger than I am. Emerald eyes look at me with burning lust, the beak opens, and I slide into his mouth, heat of his breath enveloping my entire body...
Something soft, hot and wet runs over my eyelids, shattering my sexy vore dream. I've never been into such things, but my brain gets weird sometimes.
"Mmph..." I try to mumble something, but the noise is almost nonexistent, muffled by something tightly wrapping around my head.
Time to panic? No, time for subterfuge.
I always sleep very lightly, which unfortunately means I'm devastatingly exhausted if I don't get my eight hours. The upside, though, is that when I wake up, I'm alert and ready, no existential nonsense about where or who I am.
Fighting to keep my breathing shallow, I start my tracing spell.
The Separated Potector is lying next to me, tentacles coming from his chest are what is binding my muzzle, and he's licking my forehead. Aside from his soft breathing, I don't hear anything. He nudges my temple with his nose, and licks me again.
Yeah, I don't hear anything. There is nopony patrolling around.
I open my eyes to show I'm awake, and the Protector puts a hoof on his mouth. I nod. The tentacles unwrap from my head and disappear into his chest. Good to know they can grow them anywhere if need be. One tendril on his back points to the side. I don't move, instead I just change the angle of my vision spell to see...
...a mass of forms grinding against each other letting out faint and choked moans.
Quietly and carefully, I unzip my sleeping bag. It takes forever, making the teeth let go pair after pair not to make any noise. My heart is beating like a hammer.
A small pack of Corrupted wouldn't go unnoticed this close to us, which might mean they ambushed the ponies patrolling the caravan camp and dragged them off without making a sound. I'm pretty sure that the ball of sweating bodies in the bushes is centered around one or both of the sentries now turning into more Corrupted.
Finally, I can stand up next to the Separated looking at me quizzically. Yeah, what now?
All the ponies are sleeping inside the long wooden, tarp-covered wagons, but there must be a way to alert them without straight up screaming and making a target of myself.
A quick look at the side of the nearest wagon shows a mechanism of ropes and pullies leading towards a bell in the front. If the mercs hear that instead of a panicked yell, they will know instantly stuff's gone wrong.
I flick my hoof at my Protector to lean towards me, and I whisper in his ear:
"Cover me, quietly."
He nods.
Barely allowing myself to breathe, I sneak through the stomped grass of the camp to the wagon and...
... yank the rope as hard as I can.
The bell rings loud and clear.
Confused voices and grunts of the waking ponies are only a background to the seven Hunters instantly rushing from the undergrowth, all snarling, growling, and looking at me with hunger.
The first one pounces before I can even get ready to fight, but is intercepted my the much bigger Protector and nearly bitten in half in mid-air.
"CODE RED, BOYS!" I hear Hammerhoof's voice from somewhere.
The campsite turns to complete chaos and my three-sixty vision is only making me dizzy. Focusing the spell into a normal field of view, I notice I'm being circled by a Hunter from behind.
Might be a good time to find out how long I can hold against one. Not that I have a choice. Rearing on my hind legs, the battle trance takes me instantly. Muscle memory of centuries ago flows through me, and I'm ready to...
... just barely avoid having my foreleg ripped off.
I am flung to the side by an insane force as the Hunter swipes at me. Sharp pain pierces my chest and my bandages turn red from snapping stitches.
I expected a pony testing me in combat, not a wild animal snapping and clawing at me. In the corner of my eye I see a blur and roll aside. Claws that would have eviscerated me only score deep grooves in my barrel.
On my back, I cross my forelegs in front of my neck as the Hunter's weight crushes me. A wild upwards buck of my hind legs hits the Hunter's family jewels, forcing a screech of pure agony and rage. Unlike a pony would be, he's not paralyzed at all, his back tentacles spread my crossed forelegs, and a mouth full of sharp teeth comes forward.
It hits me, but doesn't squeeze. Instead, the entire head rolls aside, messily separated from the rest of the body. The long, prehensile, bladed tail of my Protector cracks like a whip as it unwinds from the ravaged neck and my savior returns to savaging his original target. His clawed foreleg stomps through the Hunter squirming underneath him, crushing hardened skin, bones, and organs in one blow. The dying Hunter under him flails his legs wildly, scratching harmlessly against the Protector's scaly body.
Suddenly, nothing remains but heavy breathing, hoofsteps all around, and noises of breaking branches rapidly fleeing away.
"Aaaarrgh..." I barely push myself up, blinking away tears as my entire battered body protests. Broken wings, crushed again by me being thrown and rolling, chest wound open again, more bleeding lower on my barrel, scratch marks all over my neck. I must be a sorry sight.
It'll have to wait, though. The mercs are in much worse shape. Eight dead or wounded ponies are strewn around, being hastily treated by others. Three bigger motionless piles must be Corrupted. We managed to kill three before they fled, and two of them died to the Separated.
Some earthpony medic is taking supplies out of the Protector's saddlebags to deal with a mare bleeding from a mauled head inside a crumpled steel helmet. I try to walk over to my baggage, but only manage to keel over on the grass.
"Report!" I hear Hammerhoof. At least he's okay.
"Six dead, the sentries are nowhere to be found, four more dragged away. Should we pursue?" somepony answers.
"Are ya insane? We had over twenty guards plus a Protector and we lost half against seven of them in the blink of an eye. Speaking of which- WHY THE HAY IS NOPONY TREATING THE GUY WHO LITERALLY SAVED OUR ASSES?! Needle, NEEDLE!"
"Gone, boss. She was on guard when-"
"I GET IT!" Hammerhoof stops him, "Is there somepony treating somepony else who isn't bleeding to death? You? Good, go take care of him!"
Hoofsteps approach, and I get a quick check up. I feel a surge of restorative magic build up.
"Don't... bother..." I mumble, "Immune to... your weak... magic..."
"What? How?" I hear.
"No time to argue with the alicorn, he knows himself best!" Hammerhoof stops the protesting unicorn, "Patch him up with our supplies, we'll discuss reserves later."
"Owww..." I mutter, getting light-headed. At least everything is hurting much less now. A potion is emptied into my mouth, and I drift off.
A random pack of Corrupted, without the regenerative properties of being inside their claimed territory, just demolished a squad of trained mercenaries. Without the Protector, we'd all be dead or transformed.
I couldn't fight, I couldn't do anything other than ring the bell and get saved. My hoof-to-hoof skill was useless, kicking the Hunter in the balls did nothing but make him mad. There is no way to survive on my own out here aside from getting lucky.
I wake up. The sun is sitting up there in the sky, the caravan hasn't moved, and everypony is talking or resting.
Standing up is a chore, but as soon as I remind myself I have legs and not wobbly noodles propelling me, I somehow manage. A bearded, scarred face of Hammerhoof greets me.
"Well well well, how's the hero of the night?"
"I have become pain, destroyer of first aid kits," I mumble.
"Glad to hear your sense of humor took the beatin' better than the rest of ya. We patched you up the best we could, but... well, let's say mares dig scars and keep it at that?"
"Do I look like a tic-tac-toe board?"
"Kinda, to be honest. Nothing on that pretty face of yours, though."
"So, how bad is it?"
"The scratched neck just needed some cleaning and will be fine in a day or two. Everything else, stitches... a lot."
"I meant with your caravan."
"One caravaneer who was stupid enough to get out of the wagon is gone, and nearly half of us guards didn't make it through the night," he frowns, "The attacks are usually not that bad, but I suspect one of the sentries, the newbie, just reacted wrong and didn't immediately wake us all up."
Yeah, let's hope that was it. I know well enough that some ponies join this dangerous profession only because they have nothing to lose. I'm not going to say anything, though.
"My condolences, Hammerhoof."
He shakes his head.
"Meeting you and your Separated saved us, Blazing Light, no matter the cost. I'd like to offer you protection on the way back to Vanhoover where you can get patched up properly."
"I'm not going back there. I need to press on. Scars or no scars... it's just appearance. I've got worse... issues."
"Can you even carry all your bags in this shape?"
"I won't know without trying," stretching, I walk over to my pile of stuff. Thankfully, nothing was damaged in the fight. It takes some effort and grinding my teeth in pain as the straps of the bags move across my wounds and press against the broken wings, but I have things to do and a griffon to find, "See, easy."
"Would be more believable without the tears, but I'll take it," Hammerhoof chuckles.
I look around. The mercenaries are in a terrible shape. Those who survived are bandaged all over just like I am, and from their limping and occasional hissing in pain I know they won't be fighting any time soon.
This might be the dumbest idea I've had since my resurrection. My Protector is walking around, sticking his muzzle into the wagons, sniffing everything, and observing the milling ponies around.
"Hey, you, Separated guy," I raise my voice to catch the Protector's attention. He trots over, "If you don't mind, I'd like you to accompany the caravan to Vanhoover. That's where you were going before you met me anyway, right?"
"Ye-s. Fo-llow. Lea-rn," he sniffs my chest, "Wo-und-ed."
"You can't be serious!" Hammerhoof's eyes go wide.
"I'll be fine," I wave my hoof, "Look, if he comes with you he might save a bunch of lives. If he comes with me... well... there is nopony who would miss me. Simple numbers."
"That is stupid," he shakes his head, "I can't agree to this."
"It's not your choice," I pat the Protector's head, "Go with them, keep them safe. You can do what you want in Vanhoover."
"Ye-s," he nods, "Pro-tect."
"Good."
"Alright, you idiot," Hammerhoof jabs his hoof into my chest hard enough to cause pain but not to damage the stitches, "I don't know why you are in such a hurry or why you don't seem to care about your well-being too much, and I won't pry. However, I'm not a pony who forgets. So if you're ever in Canterlot and need some blades for protection, ask for Hammer and Nails and we'll be there... for free. I'll tell my guys when I get back from Vanhoover."
"Thanks."
"No, thank you."
Leaving the camp behind me, I keep on limping. The road ahead is long and, once again, lonely.
Heh, I almost forgot how bringing Hope to ponies felt. It almost makes it all worth it.