Homeworld: Equestria - The Silent Hunters

by hiigaran

6: Day One

Obsidian shuffled down the aisle of a large interplanetary shuttle moored at the edge of Canterlot, not too far from where he and Chrysalis had boarded the royal frigate. Based on his brief observation of the elongated, oblong ship as he boarded, the shuttle must have been a kilometre in length, with capacity for several thousand passengers, plus cargo. Additionally, Obsidian counted five squads of fighter craft queued for docking at the shuttle’s hangar.

Reaching his designated seat, he stowed his bags in an overhead compartment and settled in. Despite still using his brown pegasus disguise, he grew uncomfortable, essentially stuck in a massive transport where the majority of the passengers were Equestrian. The more he dwelled on the thought, the more uneasy he felt, as he played out different scenarios of his future life in his head.

Distracting himself, he tested the features of the large, seat integrated touch-screen ahead of him, cycling between different cameras mounted to the ship’s hull, and a map displaying the progress of their journey. As he did so, he heard a voice through speakers across the vessel.

“Good afternoon, Captain Aneroid speaking, with an update on our preparations to the orbital crew station. We’re almost ready to go here, finalising the paperwork before closing the last cargo hatch. Once we’re under way, our departure will initially take us in a northerly direction in accordance with noise abatement procedures, before performing a full burn into low orbit. As soon as we clear the upper atmosphere, I’ll get back to you with any updates to our arrival time, which for now should be approximately five-five minutes from our scheduled time of departure. In the meantime, I expect you to carry out any orders given by the cabin crew.”

After a brief period of silence, a second voice made another announcement over the speakers. “All ground staff requested to disembark. All ground staff to disembark. Cabin crew to safety demonstration positions.”

Several cabin crew in NSUs made their way through the aisles, positioning themselves at regular intervals across the ship. Facing their passengers, the second voice continued to speak, outlining the vessel’s various safety aspects, while the rest of the cabin crew demonstrated the appropriate actions in time to the announcement. Upon mention of a safety card in the seat pocket, Obsidian retrieved the laminated sheet. Outlined were graphical summaries of actions in various emergencies, along with locations of lifeboats across the four decks.

After the demonstration ended, Obsidian could see activity around the ship via the external cameras. The enclosed, telescopic gangways attached to the port side of the vessel retracted into the nearby building, and he felt a brief shudder as the couplings securing the vessel disengaged. Small thrusters fired from the same side in short bursts, nudging the shuttle away from its berth. With sufficient distance, the vessel changed course and departed the city, gradually gaining altitude.

While the changeling watched the landscape pass by on his screen, a mass of light-blue mane cascaded down the back of the seat from the unicorn in front, blocking the screen. Leaning forward, Obsidian tapped the mare. “Hey. You mind not spilling your mane over your seat?”

“Bite me, chocolate face.”

Without a word, Obsidian leaned back into his seat. A pegasus seated beside him stifled a laugh, though he ceased immediately when the changeling pulled out a knife from the underside of his wing. The pegasus watched in shock as Obsidian gently placed a screen’s width of the oblivious owner’s mane against the seat and sliced it away, letting the severed strands fall to the floor. Giving the knife a quick clean on both sides, he sheathed it, and returned his attention to the screen, comically bordered by the unicorn’s mane.

A notable whine built up in the cabin as the shuttle pitched up. Despite the near vertical attitude, the vessel’s artificial gravity still simulated weight through its vertical axis, while inertial dampeners made acceleration almost imperceptible.

Obsidian would not have noticed the acceleration, had he not seen the main engines at full burn from the rear camera. He watched as the ground dropped from view. Canterlot was barely visible against the side of the mountain, partially hidden under a small lenticular cloud. As it grew distant, layers of clouds appeared and fell away, from an alto-stratus outlining a warm front, to higher cirro-cumulus clouds with their distinctive mackerel scale texture. Eventually, Obsidian started to recognise the larger landmass, and selected the side cameras when he realised just how high the shuttle must have been.

The curvature of the planet was immediately apparent, as the horizon crept away from the centre of the screen. As the shuttle continued to gain altitude, it became easier to see the thin blue skin of gas around the monumental ball of blue, green, and white. Further up, the stars became clearer, joined by those that would not be visible on ground. Switching to the forward camera, he could easily make out the band of indistinguishable stars in the direction of the galactic centre.

Obsidian stared in awe at the sights before him for the remainder of the journey. During the final minutes, he could see white strobes flashing every few seconds against various parts of a structure that quickly grew to fill the screen. As the shuttle slowed and adjusted its heading, the crew station slid out of view momentarily, before appearing directly in front of the vessel once more.

Resembling an upside-down spinning top, or tractricoid, the changeling noted three distinct, vertical layers. The eight-sided structure in the middle had the largest radius, with suppression cannons mounted above and below each corner. Three stacked structures formed the top section; the progressively smaller modules similar in appearance to flying saucers of fiction, connected via a central core and three external supports. The station’s lower structure seemed comparable to a tapering prism, its cross-section a triangle with concave sides. Pole-like sensors of various lengths jutted out asymmetrically from the three sides, with steady red beacons at their extremities.

A large entrance took up an entire side on the octagonal section. Its size was apparent when a departing battlecruiser came into view, less than half the width of the gaping maw. Proceeding further down the bright path, a cavern of densely packed ships at numerous docks were found. The interior was brimming with activity, as many small utility ships moved about, making way for the approaching shuttle.

Obsidian paid no attention to the Captain’s arrival announcement, instead completely entranced by the camera feed. Eventually, the shuttle slowed to a crawl and moved sideways into its assigned berth, where the station’s couplings extended and secured the vessel in place. Taking this as a sign of their arrival, the shuttle’s passengers gathered their belongings.

Disembarking from the nearest exit a few minutes later, Obsidian pulled out a letter containing instructions on where to drop his bags. Deciding it was time he stopped with the facade, he entered a nearby bathroom and stared at his reflection in the large mirror above the sinks. Darting his eyes around, he took a deep breath before enveloping himself in green fire, shedding his disguise, and finding his true self staring back at him.

Exhaling, he made his way back out, more convinced than ever that everything thus far had been a rapid succession of bad ideas.

---

A crowd of one hundred and twenty-seven crew awaited the arrival of the officers in charge of their first assignment since the successful completion of Amarok’s field tests. The eager group of ponies, griffons and zebras, each in their NSUs, chatted away on the transport boarding deck of the orbital crew station.

In the centre of the room, the pegasus brothers Swift and Shift appeared to be attracting the most attention, telling jokes to many of the other crew. Several diamond dogs towered above the crowd, merely observing, or listening to the surrounding chatter.

Seated in one corner was Glare, weighed down by the bitter-sweet feeling of both passing her training, and being singled out for her specialised role; a lucrative role she wished she could have declined. Dejected, the unicorn fiddled idly with the simple blue band that matched her NSU, tying her mane together.

The chatter of the crew died down, upon the arrival of a peculiar figure. Noticing the sudden silence, Glare looked up as well, assuming the officers had arrived, and released her mane to fall near her left hoof. Instead, she saw something with a pitch-black coat shining in the light, and transparent night-blue wings matching its tail. Even from her distance, she could easily make out the fangs, razor-sharp horn and trademark holes littered across the body of a changeling.

Obsidian stared back at the crowd, surveying the room with expressionless eyes. Without uttering a word, he moved past the crew, all of whom parted as if the fanged menace carried some sort of disease. As he neared the end of the crowd, the changeling’s ears twitched upon hearing somepony to his left spit. Reacting instantly with an almost imperceptible flick of his wing, the crew gasped as the glob intended for the changeling had been returned to its sender.

As silent as ever, Obsidian resumed unimpeded through the crowd, placing his back against the least-lit corner of the room. He remained there at attention, unblinking and motionless, leaving the phlegm thrower to frantically clean out his eye while the scattered whispers of others met his ears. Some of curiosity, some of unease, but mostly of hatred or repulsion.

Only a few metres away, Glare was among the few who appeared mostly curious. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a pink pegasus approaching, practically strutting towards the changeling with his chest puffed out.

“Wow, the Navy must be desperate. Since when did they let your kind anywhere near us? I thought bugs were—”

“Keep talking if you want your throat torn out,” Obsidian snarled, baring his fangs.

In an instant, the pegasus appeared to deflate. Catching a glimpse of the higher-ranking changeling’s insignia—an anchor surrounded by a wreath topped with Celestia’s crown—the pegasus refrained from additional comments, backing away towards the rest of the crowd. Shortly after, sixteen officers finally arrived, oblivious to the events that had transpired. After falling in, Commander Quasar addressed his crew.

“Right, for those who have forgotten, I am Commander Quasar, Captain of Equestria’s newest creation; the stealth destroyer Amarok. Together, we will spend the coming months trialling new operational procedures claimed to improve the overall effectiveness of our Navy. Now you are all certified to operate on this unique vessel, so I expect nothing short of perfection. Each of your files indicates your fellow crew-mates excel at what they do. Therefore, I will hold the performance of all to a high standard.”

Quasar’s speech continued, covering a broad range of topics, from the vessel’s standing orders, to the specifics of several aforementioned trials.

“—currently at situation delta. However, our status will change shortly after all crew have embarked, so switch to your BPSes as soon as you’ve settled in. On another note, I’m sure you’ve all noticed the diversity of your fellow crew-mates. The news has been circulating for the past five or six months after all. Command has deemed it necessary to introduce members of additional nations into our crew complement, believing it would improve operational efficiency with fewer crew. Coming with us will be twelve diamond dogs, sixteen zebras, and a changeling. I respect Command’s decision, therefore I expect you all to do the same. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” the crew replied in unison, their collective voices echoing in the room.

“Good. Crew transports will be ready shortly. Officers, I will see you in the transport at gate one. Engineering crew, proceed to gates two and three. Ops, Infiltrators and weapons to gates four, five, and six. Nav, comms, and medical, gate seven. Deck and supply, eight and nine. Dismissed.”

---

“Destroyer Amarok, crew transport charlie-four inbound one-zero klicks off your starboard. Request docking clearance.”

“Charlie-four, cleared to dock. Caution, automatic guidance system is offline. We’re still bringing non-essential systems up. You’ll need to make a ventral approach manually.”

“Willco Amarok, charlie-four.”

As Obsidian listened to the transport’s pilot, he prepared for the arrival at his new home. Though mildly annoyed at being squeezed into the corner by several crew in the crowded passenger cabin, he derived some satisfaction from the ability to sense the extreme discomfort of ponies surrounding him. Noticing a particularly fearful unicorn watching him out of the corner of her eyes, Obsidian resisted the urge to snap his jaws at her, or to make clicking noises somehow associated with his species.

Having lost track of the radio transmissions, Obsidian saw a bright light at the end of the vessel. Upon receiving the all-clear from the pilot, the passengers filed out. Eclipse waited on the other side to greet the crew and direct them to their respective quarters. For a moment, Obsidian paid no attention to the officer, as he took in his surroundings. The air smelled surprisingly crisp. Moreso than the shuttle, crew station, or crew transport. The temperature was however slightly cold, if the shivers of a couple of unicorns were any indication.

“—on decks seven, eight, and nine. Any remaining officers will find their quarters on decks six and ten. The letters you received prior to your arrival from the crew station will indicate the deck and quarters of your assigned bed. Remember, there’s an elevator located between each compartment on this deck. Don’t crowd around one, or we’ll be here for a while.”

Obsidian followed four others to an elevator, as he pulled out his letter and read the contents. Assigned bunk … eight-two-six. So deck eight, quarters two, bed six. Sliding the letter back into one of his pockets, he looked up. The ponies gathered around the elevator had left, opting to take the next elevator over, and occasionally turning their heads back to keep an eye on the changeling. Rolling his eyes, he entered the elevator alone and selected the eighth deck.

As soon as the doors closed, Obsidian felt himself lighten as the elevator sped down, and activated his mag boots before floating off the ground. Just as soon as he did, the elevator slowed, and a great weight pressed down on him before coming to a halt at his deck. Heading out, Obsidian took a guess and moved across the deck in an anti-clockwise direction. Passing one compartment, he spied a large number ‘1’ printed on the face of the external pressure doors. Opposite to the doors were three ringed seats against the hull.

Arriving at the next compartment, the changeling found a door labelled ‘2’. Protruding from the hull opposite to the compartment was a large structure with closed sliding doors. A frangible seal connected the doors, and a large tag on the seal read ‘DANGER: LIFE BOAT. ACCESS PERMITTED ONLY IN EMERGENCIES OR MAINTENANCE’. Recalling the life boats in his studies, he remembered they doubled up as Amarok’s manoeuvring thrusters during normal operations. Turning back toward the doors to his quarters, he swiped his hoof against the reader and stood back when the light above turned red. When the outer and inner doors opened wide enough, he proceeded through.

Five beds lined the left and right walls, each with a pair of wood-finished drawers beneath them. A pillow lied upon on each mattress at one end, while a large screen mounted at the opposite end on the metal partitions between the beds. Against the compartment’s wall near the pillows were control panels. On most mattresses, the assigned crew members’ belongings had been placed, secured with the beds’ harnesses. Two earth ponies were busy rummaging through their bags, when they looked toward the newcomer. Yelping in unison, they dived onto their respective mattresses, reaching up and slamming down shutters mounted at the outer edge above their beds.

Really? Obsidian frowned, waiting for any additional movement or sound from the second and third bunks on the left side of the room. Each shutter slid up a small crack, and he could see a single eye staring from within both. Really?

With an annoyed flick of his tail, he resumed his inspection of the quarters. In the centre was a ten-sided table. A single ceiling spotlight illuminated it, and part of the surrounding area. Above the beds were significantly dimmer night lights, providing just enough light to navigate around the otherwise dark area. At the opposite end of the quarters was a sliding door. A quick peek inside revealed a bathroom.

Turning back toward bed six, the closest bed to the bathroom on the right side of the quarters, Obsidian found his belongings and probed around, until he was satisfied all items were accounted for. Though he wasn’t paying much attention, he could easily hear the whispers of the other two crew, along with a few choice words comparing him to insects. They were both cut off when the pressure doors opened, and the sound of three new sets of hoofsteps followed.

“You two. Out!” a familiar voice shouted. The other crew emerged slightly, their heads now out from their beds, and looked quizzically at the newcomers. “Are you deaf? Out!”

Obsidian turned around, just as the two ponies left in a hurry. He immediately recognised the blonde-maned, white unicorn who spat on him earlier, and the arrogant pegasus, though he was not familiar with the red pegasus who glared daggers at him.

“Figured I’d drop by and say hello to my new neighbour,” the unicorn spoke, his eyes scanning the changeling from bottom to top. “So, how’d a little cockroach like you get aboard, huh?”

Watching the three advance slowly, Obsidian could see the two pegasi moving to approach from the sides. The move was clearly threatening, and an obvious attempt to flank him. Without replying, Obsidian backed slowly toward the corner between his bed and the bathroom.

“See, you and I appeared to have had a little issue before,” the unicorn continued, “And I figured it was only right to make things … even. I would greatly appreciate an apology, both for myself, and for threatening to mutilate my friend over here. Oh, and my other friend might have something to say about your kind injuring his uncle during your failure of an invasion.”

Taking Obsidian’s movements as a sign of weakness, the three closed in. With his escape blocked, and his options limited by his position, the changeling had nowhere to go.

“The quiet type, eh? Alright”—the unicorn lit up his horn, a malicious grin forming on his face—“let’s hear how bugs squeal.”

In a sudden burst, Obsidian shot out his wings, propelling himself towards the unicorn with a buck against the wall. His left hoof made contact with the pony’s neck under the jaw, flipping the stunned unicorn backwards as the two soared through the air. Taking advantage of his agility, Obsidian used his wings and the pony’s neck to swing around, twisting himself and bucking the ceiling to slam the first pegasus into the ground. Grabbing the pegasus’ tail, Obsidian swung him overhead at the unicorn, crashing into him just as he hit the ground by the table. Before either could recover, Obsidian followed, slamming into both from above.

An eerie silence fell as Obsidian got to his hooves and turned his head slowly towards the red pegasus, who had been frozen in place during the five-second confrontation. Calmly approaching the trembling pony, his empty eyes pierced the pegasus’, and his voice lowered to a growl. “Your friends had a sparring session and were both injured after a miscalculated move.”

“Wh—what?”

“Your story. If asked what happened to your friends, you will tell them this. Or explain how your friends initiated an unprovoked attack on a superior, suffered an embarrassing defeat, and be hauled off to the brig. I don’t care. I’d prefer not to waste my time recounting the events to one of the officers in my free time, though.”

The unicorn behind Obsidian shouted, attempting to lunge at him. A one-legged buck to the pony’s chest knocked the wind out of him. After a bored glance at the coughing and wheezing heap on the ground, Obsidian faced the pegasus once more. “I’m going to explore the ship. Clean yourselves up and get out. And if I find anything out of place when I return”—Obsidian leaned further in—“remember that you’re the one trapped on this vessel with me.”

Exiting his quarters, he found the two earth ponies, plus several other crew staring at him.

“The buzz you all looking at?”

---

Figuring he had time to spare, Obsidian decided to visit each deck. The five decks with quarters had been simply that; six wedge-shaped compartments per deck for quarters, and some seats outside. Bordering the hull on every visited deck was a ring housing cargo containers, most measured perfectly to fit inside an elevator. A few of the larger containers suggested unicorn intervention would be required.

Taking the elevator yet again, the screen read ‘DECK 11: COMMAND, SUBSYSTEMS’. The height of the deck was almost three times that of the quarters, accommodating the odd devices and contraptions with barely a metre of clearance from the ceiling. At the centre of the deck stood the command centre, though with its pressure doors sealed, Obsidian had no idea what was inside.

Surrounding the command centre were six identical devices, facing out in a radial arrangement. Each had a main cylindrical body, with a conical recession at each end. Six thick prongs protruded from the sides, alternating in direction. Based on a serial number plate secured to the nearest device, Obsidian quickly realised these were the devices that gave Amarok the stealth destroyer classification, reading ‘CLK GEN’ on the metal surface.

Between and outboard of the two port and starboard-most cloak generators, two larger devices gave off a faint, high-pitched hum. These too, had cylindrical main bodies, though aligned perpendicular to the deck, with four large pipes emerging from their sides and curving down toward the floor. Hovering above the ground, Obsidian sighted something inside the main body, with an additional cylindrical structure and thick find extending out. Flying closer to the device, he felt resistance, and found he could not get his hoof to bridge the last few centimetres to the device’s surface. Looking around, he read the serial number plate, which identified the device as ‘HYP INHIB’.

Closer to the hull at four points in clusters of three, Obsidian found the last of the distinct subsystems of the deck. Each device had a squared housing and transparent domes. While identical, the devices in each cluster aligned to one of the three axes of the ship. Approaching the nearest one, he pressed his face against the dome, sighting a triple-gimballed gyroscope rotating lazily within. This time, the ‘CMG/INS’ abbreviation on the plates did little to identify their purpose.

Ignoring the stares from other crew on the deck, he flew past one of two larger sealed compartments, and found it inaccessible. Shrugging, he assumed the repair drone storage compartment was a place he lacked the clearance to access, and decided to continue exploring other decks.

---

Having returned to the fourth deck after exploring engineering, an empty deck, the pools, and the aft sensor decks, Obsidian could see the last of the crew had just finished transferring aboard. Eclipse was still directing the newcomers, however he was also attending to five others who had split off from the group and remained behind. When Obsidian made eye contact with the officer from across the deck, Eclipse beckoned him over.

“Perfect,” Eclipse began. “I had hoped you would all be on the same transport, so I wouldn’t have to round you all up, but this is also convenient. I’m sorry I can’t stay, but I’m needed in the CC. However, I’ll let you six get better acquainted.” Picking up the pace, he took off for an elevator that had just arrived nearby, and pressed a button for the relevant deck within. “Oh and don’t stay too long,” Eclipse quickly added, as the doors started closing. “You’ll need to be in your BPSes in the next forty-five minutes.”

An awkward silence followed, as the six turned their heads back toward each other.

Shift spoke first. “I take it we’re all Infiltrators here, then?”

The diamond dog made an affirmative grunt. The zebra nodded silently. Obsidian did not respond at all, and silence fell once more.

“Yes, Shift. Yes we are,” Swift broke the silence. “All silent, and brooding, and mysterious we are!”

The unicorn spoke next. “I’m—I’m Glare. And yes. Unfortunately, I’m an Infiltrator.”

“Well, well, somepony else who talks! Name’s Swift. This little knob-head here is my brother Shift—”

“Call me little one more time, Swift!” the irate pegasus snapped.

“—who apparently takes more offence to being the younger brother, than he does to being called a knob-head. So then, why’s being an Infiltrator unfortunate? Awesome pay, get to kick some alien flank, what’s not to love?”

“If it’s all the same to you, that’s private,” Glare mumbled, sniffing. “Excuse me, I have to go now.”

“Great”—Swift watched as the unicorn’s tail disappeared around the corner—“Our squad is made up of one emo, three mutes, and a knob-head. Not exactly the elite spies I was hoping we’d be.”

Shift poked his brother’s side. “What about yourself? Who are you meant to be, then?”

“I’m the attractive one, obviously!”

“We’re identical twins, Swift!”

“Hey, I got something you don’t!” Swift held his hoof up in a mock-feminine fashion. “Mares love scars!”

Shift gestured towards his brother. “This is who I live with,” he explained to the two others in front of him. “Hey—wait, where did the changeling go?”

---

Having slipped past the group and away from the meaningless conversation, Obsidian continued his quick exploration of the vessel. Alighting after the elevator read out ‘DECK 03: TORPEDO ROOM, LOWER’, he marvelled at the sight before him. Nineteen massive torpedoes standing upright, with their warheads pointed straight up and barely a gap between them.

The changeling couldn’t help but whistle. “Wonder how big those things are,” he said to himself.

“Eighty metres length, fifteen metres diameter, ’n’ a whole heap o’ kaboom!” a voice with a heavy accent called out from somewhere in the torpedo forest. Soon after, a griffon’s head poked out around a torpedo’s nozzle. He froze when he sighted the changeling.

Aaaaand here we go again.

“So yer th’ changelin’,” the griffon stated.

“Congratulations on the functioning eyes.” Obsidian dead-panned, his own eyes growing sore at how many times they’d been rolled.

“Hah! Well I’d celebrate, but single malt’s considered ‘contraband’.” The unusually bulky griffon came into full view and stopped in front of the changeling. He extended a fist. “Name’s Claymore.”

Hesitating, Obsidian bumped the fist and replied, “Obsidian. Let me guess. You’re from the highlands?”

Claymore grinned. “What gave it away? Th’ accent?”

“That, and they don’t exactly make griffons as large as you in the Griffon Kingdom mainland. You were saying about the torpedoes?”

“Hmm? Ahh, aye. Type D, Mark Ones. Largest torpedoes in active service. One can vaporise a frig or cripple a destroyer beyond field repairs.”

“Assuming our targets don’t see a massive torpedo and shoot it down.”

“Well o’ course! That’s how come they got ninety-second cloaks on ’em. This is a stealth destroyer fer a reason. Though there’s a wee catch. Th’ warhead in a D is highly compressed plasma in a powerful containment field, so guidance systems are destabilised if installed. When we fire a D, they’re on intercept vectors.”

Obsidian frowned, finding it increasingly difficult to decipher the griffon’s responses. After asking Claymore to repeat himself, he continued, “That much plasma in such a small space seems unsafe. What happens if incoming fire ruptures a warhead?”

“Absolutely nothin’! The torpedoes are just hee haw shells. Only once they’re in a tube d’ they get filled wi’ plasma from th’ reactors via magnetic transfer. O’ course, ah suppose there’s a few seconds where some risk is the noo, but who said th’ job was safe, eh?”

“Uhh, right. So, given we’re on the third deck, I assume that means we’ve got more torpedoes on the first two decks as well? Nineteen seems like a small number for a ship designed for extended operations.”

“Aye, th’ deck ’boon has another nineteen, and th’ yin ’boon has nineteen more, if ye include th’ ones in th’ six torpedo tubes. There’s also two rear tubes fir three torpedoes atween th’ pools, so that makes sixty. Though technically, th’ foremost deck isn’t deck one. It's deck zero, where th’ front sensors are. Did ye ever see th’ original sensor design, afore th’ last-minute change? They keeked like tits hanging from th’ ceiling. ”

“Uh huh …”

“Actually, nah. They were half-spheres smooshed together, so th’ middle line looks like th’ crack o’ a bahookie.”

Obsidian raised a hoof. “Okay, I get it! Don’t get all excited on me.” Inspecting his VMUI, he seized an opportunity to slip away. “Oh, is that the time? I need to get into my BPS.” Without waiting for a reply, he took off and made a beeline for the nearest elevator. Rushing in, he made his way back down to his quarters. Buzz me, what a weirdo. His conversation with Void quickly flashed across his mind.

Find the silver lining and meet a cute little griffon or something.

Obsidian audibly shuddered at the thought. ‘Cute’ and ‘little’ were two words he would never associate with highlander griffons.