After millennia of slumber, the ponies of Tambelon have awoken. For good or ill, they set their sights on the surface.
As the sun rose the next morning, Writ and Granite watched as three pegasi took off in pursuit of some mythical castle. Golden Writ noted that his friend’s gaze lingered on Canary as she flew off… not that he would say anything out loud.
Everything was moving smoothly that morning, save for reports of shared dreams involving a dark blue blur that spouted gibberish. Odd, perhaps, but harmless. Seeing no new threats, ponies were sent out in search of food and housing materials.
“Well, Granite,” Writ started, “what did you want to show me?”
Granite frowned, “I… just follow me”
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