• Published 29th Feb 2020
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Oh Dearest Father of Mine... - ExaltedFiction



What could possibly go wrong when a Human has to raise two immortal Alicorns fillies who possess unimaginable Godlike power? Better question, what COULDN'T go wrong?

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Chapter XIV - Sacred and Profane Part III

The sun still reigning from above the sea of light blue and dabs of white, Apollyon stood upon a hill of swaying bladed greens alongside Skeiron, whose form was covered in a gambeson and was armed with his sword and dagger. With the Mantle in hand, Apollyon tapped the bottom of the staff on the ground several times, startling the mercenary.

“It is time,” He said, “You know what is at stake. Heed my demands, and I’ll see to it that your son's health will blossom. No one else needs to be buried anymore.”

“Right.” Skeiron whispered, eyes and facial expression now inflamed with determination, “This is the only way.”

Flaring out his wings and taking off, sending dust alongside a small gust of wind in all directions upon takeoff, while Apollyon remained there, simply watching the mercenary fly for a few seconds more until he heard a series of heavy weighted hooves disturbing the grass nearby.

“You wish to speak, then speak, Apis. But make it short, I don’t have time to deal with you.”

Apis, annoyed and somewhat heated from the human’s dismissive tone, stepped forward and spoke up, “You haven’t been here long, and already you’re bringing in unfamiliar faces and scents… I guess what Harpstrings says about your kind is true.”

Apollyon chuckled, recalling her words with a grand smile, “‘If somepony wants a problem in life; go find a hooman.’ Never have I been offended by something I strongly agree with… But as for the unfamiliar beaks and scents, they’ll be far more soon, so I recommend keeping your mouth shut and don’t draw any attention at all like a good for nothing nobody.”

Eyebrows narrowing and body tensing, Apis stomped a hoof on the ground before speaking with a slightly raised voice, “Are all hoomans as annoying and difficult to put up with like you? Or are you the only one?”

“Yes.” He answered nonchalantly, “Now gather your herd, and don’t draw any attention to yourself, less you plan on making yourself a target.”

“And the foals?”

“I’ll take them off Clarabelle and watch over them. You just focus on your herd. Got it?”

“Wait but-”

“Good.” He cut off, leaving the bull speechless, “Now get going, Apis. I can feel their presence encroaching upon the borders of the Everfree.”

Granting Apis a view of his backside, he dismissed the bull entirely, focusing his mind on far bigger concerns present at the moment.

Huffing at his actions, Apis turned in the direction of his herd and began making his way there, mumbling behind the human’s back as he did so, “I can’t believe Harpstrings actually puts up with you…”

Apollyon overheard this but refused to make a remark on it, giving Apis a glance, a quick shake of his head and nothing more.

With the sounds of soothing humming entered his ears, the man shaped up a white smile as he held out his palm to an approaching wisp.

“Well, hello there, little one.” He greeted, allowing the radiating wisp to nest and seek comfort in his palm, “What news do you bring of our uninvited guests? And please, don’t spare the details.”

The wisp then passed him all the relevant information in the form of humble chimes, hums and melodies.

“Let’s not… at least for now, little light. I wish for them all to see what happens when animals dare to transgress against Man and our charges.” He let his arm fall to his side, robbing the wisp of its ‘nest’, “Run along now, little light, I’ll let Regana take over from here. Oh and, do me a favour and bring the prisoners out here, bounded, if you will?”

Getting an obedient nod from the wisp before it departed from his sight, Apollyon looked to the treeline, closing his eyes and focusing beyond it, picturing a group of griffons hesitantly waiting outside the Everfree.

“And so it begins…”


Standing on the literal boundaries of the outskirts of the Everfree, the mercenary Captain along with his entourage stared endlessly into the never-ending thickness of brush, crooked trees and jagged stones. All, except for the Captain, felt their hearts drop into the pits of their stomachs, unable to shake off their seconds thoughts that this may have been a bad idea.

“The Everfree… it just had to be the Everfree.” A mercenary commented, prompting more comments to be said aloud.

“You’ve heard the stories Equines said about this place. The way everything works on its own without their interference.”

“Not including beasts that roam this accursed place… manticores, sea serpents, ursa’s, wolves…“

“And that’s what they’ve seen… we don’t know what else is in there.”

“Enough!” The Captain demanded, silencing them all instantly. Blood boiling as he turned to face his faint-hearted comrades, “The Bastard Sons have dealt with worse before, this is simply one of those times again.”

One of his subordinates stepped forward, an honest thought in mind to say aloud, “With all due respect, Captain. But there is NOTHING familiar about facing off against our own.”

The weapons of the mercenaries slowly lowered to their side as their comrade confronted their leader, “While we have faced monsters and beasts of all shapes and sizes, these… things turned our brothers against us! Our comrades in arms have fought by our side since we left our homeland!”

He shook his head in disbelief, “... Loyalty like that isn’t easily found nor is it easily matched, but when we encountered that… thing it’s like what we all the battles and hardship we endured together didn’t even matter.”

He was met with mumbles of agreement from his receptive comrades.

“Unicorn magicks; Illusions?” A mercenary suggested.

“I don’t think so…” He disagreed, “I think it’s something worse… something far more sinister… Chaos magicks maybe?”

“Chaos magicks?” A fellow mercenary repeated. “Come on Chiron, you’re starting to sound like the Kid now. Everygriff knows that Chaos magick isn’t real, the unicorns have tried exploring that route, and they failed to bear any fruit.”

“Are you so inclined to believe that? Everygriff knows that you cannot trust those noble pansies. They will lie, they will cheat, they will do everything but tell you the whole truth.” He paused for a moment, taking a breath, “And after what we all saw last night, would you still hold any doubts?”

Reminded of the events, his comrade shook his head and backed down, allowing Chiron to continue.

“I- We don’t know what we’re dealing with. But I know one fact for sure, and that fact is that we are in way over our heads, to keep going is a death sentence.”

“So would be returning to the guild with our blood brothers lives not paid for dearly in blood.” The Captain said, “We don’t have a choice, we either come back with vengeance claimed and a trophy in a bag or not at all. Flee with our tails between our legs, and… you all know how deserters and cowards are treated, so you can expect the same.”

The look on their faces once he reminded them of this was all the answer he needed from them. Most stepped back, gripping onto their weapons tightly, while others did as little as hold their tongues.

He nodded, “That’s what I thought.” He affirmed, letting out a heavy sigh, “Now ease up lads, pass your prayers and hold your charms close to keep the seeds of heresy and corruption at bay. Once Pontus and Thistle return from scouting, we will make our move.”


“So why’d the Captain send us out? Instead of, you know, griffs who have actual experience in scouting before?” Pontus asked, flying through tamed skies of blue dotted with white fluffy spots of different shapes and sizes.

“Clearly he just didn’t want to see your ugly face!” Thistle jabbed, shooting Pontus a smug smile, continuing to fly high above the Everfree alongside his blood brother.

“Oh please, chicks are falling over each other just for this mercenary.” He claimed, gesturing to himself.

“You’re disgusting! It’s a wonder Vilod still puts up with you!”

“What can I say?”-He casually shrugged, tilting his body slightly so that his form was facing Thistle-” She loves me too much to get rid of me.”

“HA! We’ll see about that, just wait till we- Wait, what’s that?”

Taking notice of his shouting, Pontus adjusted his flying stance quickly to accommodate a potential threat Thistle was pointing at. Both warriors reared up, hovering in the air with their weapons ready, and their war faces on. But as the silhouette grew as it made its approach, its shape became more distinct to make out, eventually leading the two to ease up and lower their weapons upon recognising who it was.

“Skeiron?” Thistle questioned uneasily, face filled with bewilderment as the fellow mercenary approached, stopping only once he was within forelegs reach.

Within mere milliseconds, the blood brothers caught sight of all the open wounds that littered Skeiron’s form, all recent, turning a dark shade of red as the blood clotted up to slowly begin the healing process.

“By the Divines, What happened? We thought you and the others perished when you didn’t return to us.”

The griffon in question shook his head, panting heavily, stammering, “N-no, I- We didn’t perish, Thistle, we were taken against our will. I managed to escape, but the others… the others weren’t so lucky…”

Gently placing a talon on his shoulder, to which Skeiron seemed to stare at for quite a while before getting a question he must know the answer to, “Are they dead?”

After a few seconds of long anxious silence, the blood brothers began to fear the worst, that is until Skeiron spoke up, managing to get the words out, “N-no, they’re alive I think, they… they just weren’t lucky enough to escape.”

“Did you manage to see who or what was behind this?” Asked Pontus, tightening the grip on his weapon.

“Only a glimpse, from looks alone he appeared to be a bipedal creature with apelike features.”

“A monkey? So, we’re dealing with a monkey?” Said Thistle, a hint of doubt in his voice. He did continue, but only after getting confirmation from the griff before him, “So you’re telling me that a monkey caused ALL of this?”

The brothers waited in anticipation, some part of them hoping that Skerion was wrong, hoping that their group was not bested by some creature with no affinity towards being sapient. But alas, their hopes were crushed once Skeiron reaffirmed his claims.

“Unfortunately, it would appear to be that way, friends…”

Muscles tendons tensing in his neck, Thistle rushed up to the griff, grasping a talon-full of his gambeson before pulling him closer, “Do you remember where you came from?”

Skeiron reacted accordingly to the sudden heated aggression, wrapping his talons around Thistles, nodding, “I remember; it was a manor of sorts in a clearing.”

“Take us there.” Thistle demanded, simultaneously releasing and pushing the griffon, granting him the ability to move freely once again.

After recovering from Thistle’s shove, Skeiron did as he was told, though appearing to hesitate for a moment. Nevertheless, he took the lead while the others followed close, right on his tail; flying with such determination that shadowed Skeiron’s instantly; their wing power alone altered the course of clouds or forced a few to break off from the main body.

Flying at great urging speeds along with the simple guidance of Skeiron, the trio managed to spot the target building in no time. Making their approach with their eyes set on the building and the clearing, the trio began to ease up on their speed, slowing down to a much more controllable and discrete state.

“Is that it? Is that the place?” Asked Thistle, steadily flying alongside Skeiron. And after getting a nod in response, Thistle braked to a full stop but remained hovering in the air, the others followed suit.

“Hold fast, griffs.” He ordered, pointing to one of the many clouds his eyes locked onto, “Let’s use the clouds to get a better view. Go and grab as many as you can, griffs.”

The others saw no reason to argue with him; thus they did as they were told, each grabbing as many clouds as possible whilst holding no concern over the shape and size before moulding them all together to form an even larger fluffed up cloud for them to exploit, like a child playing with dough.

Only after combining each of the clouds they gathered did two of the mercenaries placed and faced themselves towards the rear; wings flared out and ready for action. While Thistle hung his head over the front, granting him unrivalled sight from the skies, “Remember, slow and steady, any quick movements will draw unwanted attention.”

Skeiron and Pontus adhered to Thistle’s reminder, keeping the movements of the clouds to match the surrounding ones. And though it was slow, they managed to close the distance to the manor undetected, their natural and highly advantageous cover situated high above.

“Hold here, this is good enough.” Thistle said, taking a look-see and scanning the entirety of the clearing with care and focus.

“What do you see?” Asked Pontus, glancing over to his blood brother whilst remaining in his spot alongside Skeiron.

“Hmm, nothing of value as far as I can tell… just some cattle, but I doubt they would have half a brain to even give us anything of value.”

“Won’t argue with you there, the only thing they're useful for is bodies for a compliant workforce.”

“Or a meat shield to stand in the way of monsters or invading armies.”

“That as well.”

Thistle and Pontus continued to jab shots and chuckle at the mocking insults directed towards the grounded creatures, it was only when the laughter had finally died down did Pontus shift his gaze over to Skeiron who drew his concern.

Strangely, Skeiron appeared to be lost in his world, eyes staring off into the distance of blues and greens. Now, this alone wouldn’t warrant much concern, but what action he carried out besides staring, albeit intentionally or unintentionally, did.

The griffon’s talons and body were shaking as if he was exposed to frosty elements for a long period of time, he seemed to have constant trouble in taking in a good breath and the pupils of his eyes appeared to have shrunk to the size of a pinprick.

Despite thinking, he should just leave him be, Pontus placed a talon on his shoulder, startling him unintentionally, before shaking him gently, “Hey, you alright there? You don’t look so good.”

Skerion stammered, “Y-yeah, I-I’m fine… j--just nerves… just nerves…”

Pontus scoffed at the trembling griff, “Nerves?! You hear that, Thistle?”

“Yeah I- Wait… I think I see the monkey, he’s coming out of the manor, and uh…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it's just, I expected a creature with more of a… slouched posture.”

“Well, what is he doing, brother? Can you tell from here?”

“Of course I can, you twit, just be quiet…” And silence is what they gave him.

Through the eyes of Thistle, he witnessed a bipedal creature standing in front of the manor’s opened doors with staff in hand. Distinctly, he focused on observing his actions, for he seemed to be passing orders and throwing commands with simple gestures of his hand.

As the griff continued to watch, he was unfortunate to have witnessed a scene that made his eyes widen; Two bounded griffons with brown, dirtied sacks placed over their heads were carried outside in a purple aura, one that appeared to be projected from similar spectral flames that they encountered last night.

He then watched as the griffon prisoners were lined up beside each other before being dropped onto the floor; ready to be put to the sword.

Thistle jumped up the moment his mind pictured a very bloody image. He turned to the others, who awaited to hear what he saw.

“What’s wrong? What did you see?” Queried Pontus, his mind inquisitive of what Thistles eye bore witness to.

“I’ll tell you griffs on the way, but right now, we have to get back to the Captain as quickly and as discreetly as possible, or we’ll have two more sets of tags to bring back to the guild.”

Alarmed by such a response, the two traded places with Thistle before beginning the long process of steadily manoeuvring their cloud a fair distance away, away from prying eyes.


Apollyon inhaled deeply, taking in a breath of nature, eyes closed, and upon opening them, he managed to catch sight of a lone feather free-falling from the corner of his eye.

Holding out a palm, he caught the brown feather long before it had a chance to embrace the grass.

Intrigued, he held up the feather to his face by the quill, staring inquisitively at it for a few moments before craning his head to the cloud infested sky. Hearing some disembodied humming, the feather was deformed under the weight of his crushing grip.


Awaiting the return of the scouts to hear of what news they bring of the foe they seek, these griffs occupied themselves to the best they possibly could, despite tensions being high and their emotional and mental state being on edge.

Some checked their weapons and armour for the hundredth time, others prayed to their Gods and held their charms close to their beaks. While the things they did were different, they all sought the same thing, some manner of comfort, an activity to distract themselves and keep dark unwanted thoughts at bay.

Showing no signs of deviating, they continued to do these as if they were on a loop, that is until the scouts announced their return with hard flaps and a not so subtle landing. Their return caused an unintentional uproar in the area, but it was quickly silenced once they realised that they… brought a plus one with them.

Everygriff stared at the plus one, gripping their weapons tightly and donning their plated armour, already fearing the worst.

Their respected Captain approached the scouts, proceeding to listen to their discoveries first, nodding appreciatively before diverting his attention to the familiar plus one; staring him down, “Still among the living I see, huh, Skeiron? ... What happened? Where did you and the others run off to?”

As Pontus and Thistle stepped to the side, Skeiron’s shaking legs failed to support him, he fell onto his knees, head low and eyes to the Captains front talons.

“S-sir, we didn’t run, we were captured, taken against our will… ” The Captain arched a brow. “... We were assaulted by… unholy griffons… they beat us down, bounded us and had this… light drag us off to a manor in the Everfree.”

The Captain nodded as he took in his words, “And how did you escape?”

Skeiron felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach, hesitating to provide a sufficient answer.

Luckily, nogriff seemed to urge him, instead they all held their breaths as they awaited his response, granting him a few seconds to strengthen his heart.

“Truth be told, Captain.” He started, head raising till his eyes locked onto the Captain’s. “I felt our Great Mother Prithvi smiling upon me. I felt her holy words grace my ears, guiding and leading me away from death and to my narrow escape. It was close… but safe to say, without Her, I wouldn’t have made it out.”

Dreading silence fell upon the group, as most or perhaps all awaited the Captain’s judgement. Their leader stared at Skeiron for what felt like an eternity, holding a contemplating expression about his face.

Eventually, once the expression faded away, everygriff held their breath as they awaited to hear Skeiron’s judgement - to see if this was the end of the line for him or not.

“Stand, Skeiron.” The Captain ordered, offering an open talon.

The griffon stared at the talon for a moment, only accepting it after the Captain leaned forward a bit more.

“Can you fight?” The Captain asked, patting the rising griff on the shoulder as well as glancing to his sheathed dagger.

“Y-yes sir, I’m a bit shaken, but I can fight.” He claimed, chest puffed out.

His leader hummed for a bit, eyeing him from top to bottom, but soon enough he seemed to be pleased by his answer, nodding appreciatively before turning to face the rest of the group, calling for their undivided attention to brief them on their next move.

“Warriors, time is of the essence, so I’ll keep this short. Your silence, composure and obedience is demanded.” The Captain paused for a moment - eyes jumping from solider to soldier. “Two of our comrades' lives are at the mercy of a bipedal creature, one who appears to be able to wield magick.”

They obediently continued to listen, focusing on the words of their leader.

“We don’t know the school he hails from, but we’ve seen what havoc he’s wreaked upon us… It’s unlikely that most of us, if any at all, will be walking away from this alive. But we’ve dealt with magick wielders before, and thus I have a strategy to deal with this one.”

Expressions of wrathful anger along with fiery determination in their eyes covered most of them. Talons clenching and easing their hold on their weapons, and continuing to repeat this process as the plan was swiftly given.

Positions were given, groups were formed and assigned, issues were pointed out and resolved, all that was left was the approach and the execution of the plan of attack… and a reminder, of course.

“Remember griffs, it's them or us. We’re either walking out of here and back to the guild with a trophy, or we’re walking in the clouds beside our ancestors and under the Divines themselves. If it is your destiny to die here, then make it a good one!” He smiled at the sight of instruments of death being raised high, it faded away when he dismissed them a moment later, however, “You all know what to do, so get to it!”

After one last set of nods, many griffons flared out their impressively sized wings before launching from the ground and into the sky, already setting out to the most dense and clustered up clouds they could find.

Soon, all that remained on the ground were four griffons: the Captain, Skeiron, Thistle and Pontus.

The one festooned in padded armour of linen and wool was the next to depart with Thistle and Pontus right behind him. But before they managed to even send a miniscule dust storm outwards in hopes of joining and aiding their comrades, the Captain prevented them from doing so, waving them over with a simple combined mix of gestures with his talon and head.

“Did you need something, sir?” Thistle asked, quite inquisitive as to why they were held back.

“Yes.” He confirmed, eyes and face displaying signs of anxiety and suspicion, “It’s about Skeiron… I would advise caution while you are both around him.”

“Suspecting something off about him?”

The Captain nodded, “Nogriff here can vouch for him, and he’s been unaccounted for quite some time. Divines know what he’s been exposed to, but that knowledge is reserved for them and them alone.”

“Do you think he will turn on us?”

“Unfortunately, I do.” He sighed, a talon being placed upon Thistle’s shoulder as his eyes glanced between the blood brother’s, “So whatever you do, keep an eye on him and keep a blade always within reach. Do I make myself understood?”

The two reacted quickly, standing at attention with a balled up talon going diagonally across their metal chest, “Yes sir!”

“Good. Now get back to it.” The Captain barked, sending the two on their way before he followed; soaring to the same height as his subordinates before coordinating and supervising their efforts. And thanks to his efforts, as well as the motivated spirits of his underlings, the griffons were already on the move, all within the time span of a few minutes.


Despite its intended intentions, the cloud covered approach was making great time, though to be fair, it was not like they were attempting to infiltrate a heavily monitored and secure area and insert themselves from the skies.

Just like the trio did before, the mercenaries forged a larger cloud with their bare talons and rode on it like a vehicle that was powered by wing power; A white fluffy aerial assault barge, carrying soldiers with violent and killer intentions.

Through the guidance of the scouts, and the coordinating efforts of the Captain, this group of mercenaries were approaching their desired destination; a clearing of green that was soon to be a battleground stained with liquid crimson and rotting corpses.

With the clearing in sight, the Captain demanded that the cloud comes to a full stop. Upon its non-existent movement, he ordered his soldiers to head to their assigned positions with their respective groups.

Some jumped off here, while the rest remained where they were.

The Captain was one of the few who jumped off, entrusting those on the clouds to uphold their task while he adhered to his.

After breaking through the shield of leaves, branches and vines, the Captain found himself landing on the ground with ease, but as he arose and prepared to direct his subordinates, he found that they were already making their way to the manor; using a loose line formation to comb the dense Everfree.

Although he was pleased with their initiative, he did not waste time passing praise, instead preferring to join the line as they made their approach, encroaching on the clearing with weapons drawn and ready, relying on the sounds of nature to drown out the clanging of their armour and the pounding of their racing hearts. But through acts of faith, not only did it ease the latter for most, but it also eased the tension in their minds and bodies.

Prayers for strength, favour, forgiveness, mercy and many more travelled from their hearts and departed their yellow beaks with intended destinations to their Gods above. But the harsh reality they had to accept was that it was uncertain if they or anygriff was going to answer… they could only hope that somegriff would.

In due time, the Captain and his small detachment of mercenaries arrived at the clearing. It should’ve been a pleasing sight to see a place not infested by clusters of trees with thick vines hanging down from them. But deep inside, they held feelings they would never admit: a feeling that the Everfree is perhaps safer than what is in that clearing.

The Captain then gave his orders, and though they were passed on in a whispering manner, the tone of the demands remained ever dominant and ever stern, “Keep yourselves concealed behind the trees, and be swift about it.”

Heeding to his will, they rushed to hide behind curved trees and shrubs, tucking in their wings and tails as to leave as little of their large bodies exposed to the risk of being seen by the eyes of their opponent.

Once they felt secure, pupils of various colours slowly edged out from obscuring cover, eyes shifting focus from brown tree bark to the field of green, the structure of stone and the figures who existed in front of it.

Flat on their sides, two griffons with sacks over their heads and chains acting as their bounds endured the sweltering heat of the sun bearing down on them. While the one standing perfectly upright, the one with apelike features and who held an ominous staff in his right hand enjoyed the shade in complete silence just a few steps behind them.

Curiosity seeped into their minds as they squinted their eyes at the ape, every one of them wondering the same thing: ‘What was he doing?’

Before long, other questions soon arose, sparking some manner of concern and second guessing within the hearts of the Captain’s subordinates.

“Why… is he just standing there… and doing nothing?”

“Is he waiting for something? Is he… waiting for us?”

“Is he expecting us? Did he know we were coming?”

“Should we strike now while his guard is down? Is his guard even down?”

“Are they even alive? Why aren’t they moving?”

“Is he baiting us? Is there some kind of malicious scheme at play here?”

“What should we do?”

“Captain, what should we do?”

As they turned to their leader, searching for some form of guidance for the path which they were to take, they found him staring at the ape with an inquisitive set of eyes. Nothing was heard, said or done, both from the Captain and his subordinates for quite a while, that is until a griff grew tired of waiting and stuck his head out to take another peak; one that he will regret for as long as his life remained.

Squinting his eyes, focusing his attention on the ape and nothing else, letting everything caught by his eyes become a blur, he scanned him from top to bottom, taking mental notes ranging from anything as large as the staff he held or to the attire he sported.

Eyes once again running up from his shoes to his head, the griffon’s eyes trespassed across his eyelids, of which retracted open, showing off a pair of glowing purple pupils who traced the origin of the gaze back to the source.

The impatient griffon recoiled slightly, gasping as he did so, but he refused to retreat into hiding, instead he leaned further in, eyes wandering the structure of the face until he caught sight of a scene of the ape flexing up a malicious smile and baring his white canines.

Heart skipping a beat, his eyes bare white with no pupils in sight, the mercenary appeared to be paralysed as he continued to engage into a staring contest with the ape. Though his body was frozen, his mind was not; he simply retained the ability to think but not to act.

Strangely so, whether in a spiritual or physical manner, he could feel himself losing ground the longer the duel went on. His eyes grew heavy as his soul experienced the sensation of a weighted object bearing down on him, vision slowly being consumed by the blackness creeping in from the outer parts of his sight.

And when he tried to resist - expending sheer mental willpower to repel the ape’s influence - it only led him down a path that tested him.

In the initial stages of resisting, the griffon barely managed to crack a crooked smile as well as moving his digits in a twitchy manner, perhaps even to go as far as to briefly flex or tense up his muscles. But with the passing of a few seconds, the ability to do these things faded into obscurity as the shifting, tensing and flexing of his body entered into a state of stagnation.

No longer was he capable of moving or feeling anything, and it was just a matter of time until his influence began a hostile takeover, the ape enforcing his will upon his form. Within seconds, the griffon’s movements were not his own as he was forced to watch his body ignore his demands, favouring a foreign influence one.

Loss of the physical aspect of his body only left two more territories to be conquered. That being what laid within; his spirit and his mind. Leaving no time for respite, the siege and conquest of these territories began swiftly, and already the consequences have begun to show.

The sounds of high-pitched whirring overwhelmed his ears, he could feel the presence of cold voices clawing at his soul and his mind, tearing down defences and obstacles with ease to reach their prize.

And just as the light seemed to fade from his eyes for the final time, the griffon was pulled to the side, falling on the ground harshly.

In these opening moments of being spared of meeting his Gods in person, nothing left his beak other than dry, heavy coughs, rapid panting and the wet liquid contents inside.

Once he had recovered from coughing up his lungs and spitting out his saliva, he looked up, finding several sets of griffon eyes staring right at him, all holding their breath as they gripped at their weapons anxiously.

Fortunately, before anything rash had been done, everygriffs mind was turned to the direction in which the sounds of a voice and shifting plates of metal came from.

“I believe we’re expected, griffs…” He said ominously, withdrawing from his cover and returning his blade to its leather holding before continuing, “I’m going out there.”

This immediately provoked a bewildered and shocked reaction from his underlings, who in turn attempted to protest such actions, but a brief stern oppressive stare reminded them of their position, compelling them to back down.

“Good.” The Captain said, “Now, weapons down and keep your tempers in check. I’ll approach alone to see what he has to say. But above all: remain vigilant. I surely do not need to remind you of what magick wielders are capable of.”

Some griffons nodded while most didn’t, for they chose to remain silent and appear to be willing to go along, despite it being a flawed idea.


The Captain revealed himself, announcing his presence in the form of pushing away branches and bushes as he stepped into the clearing, showing no signs of fear in the presence of the ape’s haunting gaze and colossal size of the manor.

He approached on all fours; leaving the marks of his hybrid body upon the grass as he steadily made his way to the prisoners.

Even one as experienced as himself, the Captain still could not prevent his body from reacting as he neared the ape. His blood boiled, his wings twitched uncomfortably, and he struggled to maintain a calm, neutral face.

A raised palm directed at him compelled him to stop in his tracks; stopping before the prisoners whose coat appeared to be coarse and rough while parts of their feathered layers appeared to be plucked off.

“That’s far enough, xenos gryphon.” Apollyon warned, catching sight of the way the Captain flinched, to which he smirked at.

No one said anything. Not even those who spectated from afar; letting the winds and the wolves howl as they anxiously awaited to see who would make the next move.

“So, the leader of this particular company of degenerate xenos mercenaries arrives at last.” Then with a palm faced up, the ape then gestured to the prisoners in a way as if he were presenting an object of value to a guest of honour, ”As you can see before you: We have been waiting.”

The griffon growled as he glanced between the prisoners and Apollyon.

“I must confess. I was rather… peeved that you continued to persist in transgressing against us, despite half of your company being annihilated by our hands, or should I say… by yours.“ He witnessed the eyes of the griffon twitch. “But in the end you persisted, that’s… something I respect, and yet that’s something I resent.”

The Griffon Captain didn’t say anything.

“I had hope that by wiping half of you out and reclaiming our own, it would teach your dim minded kind a lesson.” He began shaking his head, “Unfortunately, that would not appear to be the case.”

Eyes alight with fury and hatred, already consciously picturing himself committing violent, bloody actions against the ape.

“An ape has strayed from his dirty tribe… Why? Why are you here?” He questioned, making no effort to mask the pain-filled hate in his voice.

Apollyon chuckled for a moment, the sets of his canines briefly revealing themselves, “Is the term ape meant to be degrading to us humans?”

“I care not about insults or what your tribe calls themselves, ape! Now, why are you here?”

“Oh, you know, the usual…” Sparking supernatural forces to life, a smile plastered itself on his face as he witnessed the griffon get startled responding to his actions. And with a hand raised to his face, he flipped it over to its palm and back repeatedly, continuing, “Touring a foreign land, extinguishing fires, protecting our charges… eradicating xenos, you know, the usual.” He ended, a grim look about his face.

The Captain glared at the ape, struggling to ease the growing tension in his stiffening neck and tight shoulders even as he released the hilt of his sword.

“Come now, gryphon. Lose the sour face, for we are currently living a rather memorable moment. One that you will never forget.”

“And what would that be, ape?”

“... Your finest hour.”

Perplexed, the griffon was left wanting to know more, unable to resist becoming inquisitive.

“What are you talking about? Explain yourself! Speak sense!”

“Don’t worry about it, for you, will witness it yourself soon enough. But for now, I will allow the transfer of my prisoners over to your charge. They’re your problem now, as they always have been.”

The ape then took several steps back, giving the Captain some breathing room to attend to his mercenaries while he continued stepping back deeper into the looming shadow of the manor.

The Captain didn’t budge a bit, however, a pair of suspicious eyes seeking any signs of deception on the ape’s part.

The bipedal creature did little, but smiled back, the ends of his boots pointing outwards while the ominous staff his hand wrapped around leaned out to the side in a diagonal manner.

Even with the ape displaying himself in the open in a non-threatening manner, the Captain still approached the two with caution, all while keeping a pair of vigilant eyes on the ape, for the threat came not in physical prowess, but in arcane magicks.

He fell on his knees once he had eventually reached them, eyes assessing the chain bound prisoners who look like they’ve been through Hell and back before his talons pulled one up back onto his knees.

“C-captain?” One of them called out faintly, his voice young, distinct and barely a whisper.

Their leader made a move to put their minds at ease, as he heard the desperation and wavering hope in the griff's weak voice.

“It’s me Kid.” He said, “Don’t talk, save your strength. We’re going to get you home.”

The Kid didn’t say anything, choosing to instead focus on his breathing, an action to which it sounded like he was struggling with, much like finding the strength to stay upright. Reasons being that his breathing was obnoxiously louder than it needed to be, and his body constantly drifted from one side to the other and were subject to fall were it not for the aid of his leader.

“A shame really.” The ape remarked, catching the Captain freeze for a moment before carrying on with his assessment. “A waste of a young, spirited life; One that held great potential, like most young do.”

The Captain continued, giving no notice to the ape.

“... And like most young; Their great potential is squandered by foolish endeavours imposed onto them by the old, bitter and power hungry.” He paused as he caught a death filled glance from the Captain, to which he smiled at. “Like, say something as petty as mercenary work… wouldn’t you agree?”

Unfortunately, it would be left without a proper response as the griffon’s attention was divided between his subordinates. He slowly removed the sack, eyes staring in shock as he processed the sight.

Just like the sack, the Kid’s feathered layers were soaked in blood and tears, while his cracked yellow beaks might’ve just been the colour of dried crimson. But he was more fixated on the Kid’s eyes; pale and cloudy, almost deprived of life in contrast to his young spirited ones prior.

Despite what his feelings desired, he could not afford the time to express his sincere apologies, instead he leaned in close, but kept his beak just shy of the sight of the ape’s eyes.

“Can you fight, son? Or walk at the very least?”

The Captain would be left wanting an answer from the Kid, as his attention appeared to be elsewhere while his body gently swayed from left to right.

Their leader steadied him and kept him centre before also attempting to keep the Kid’s head up, which leaned heavily to one side.

“Hey, stay with me, son. The living are not done with you yet.”

The Kid didn’t seem convinced, eyes half lidded, and staring into the far distance as he fell to one side.

The Captain refocused his efforts into trying to keep him awake, letting him fall to the ground, favouring pushing, shaking and shouting at the Kids form, “No, no, no, no! Stay with me, kid!”

He continued this process for a while, but despite his efforts, the last remnants of life departed his body, leaving nothing behind but a corpse.

And once one was gone, he rushed over to check the other, who unfortunately had departed the mortal plain as well.

After a few moments of silence, he leaned back on his heels, sighed and shook his head, his forelegs already beginning the process of removing their tags.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, gently patting their forms before rising.

“A young fruitful life wasted... in the pursuit of glory.” Apollyon remarked, “He could’ve made a great soldier to a warlord some day, much like the rest of you.”

The griffon clenched his talons, brows narrowed, addressing him with a frown, “You aren’t going to let us leave… are you?”

Much to his dismay, the ape began chuckling lowly, shaking his head with disbelief.

“No. I’m not.”

Wings twitching and body shifting anxiously, his tail swayed side to side at a mediocre pace as he had another stare down with the ape.

“Remember, xeno… This is your finest hour. Why in the merciful name of Anima would you ever want to leave?” He asked, a look the griffon could only describe as malicious plastered on the ape’s face, feeling a cold aura of dread emanating from his hairless form.

Despite the amount of open space around them, one felt himself as cornered as a rat, leaving them one option; one real way that held any real chance of them getting home.

Using his tail that swayed idly in the wind, he raised it high, shaped it up into a hook and pulled down.

The moment that was done, several bolts that came from various angles whizzed through the air, their iron heads set on a bipedal target of flesh and bone.

The moment they flew, the Captain dived out of the way and laid in a prone position until the threat of friendly fire was over.

Recognising the threat that came his way at a rapid pace, Apollyon did little but raise a brow at the onset of incoming bolts.

Upon nearing their target, Regana arose from the earth and flocked over to Apollyon’s side, emitting unstable waves of and sparks of psykanic energies.

The waves shattered the bolts mid-air, while miniature lightning struck those that remained whole and in the air, deforming them into ashes.

All that remains of their initial sneak attack laid on the ground; ashes that followed the gusts of the wind and splinters of wood and bent iron heads.

Everygriff who witnessed the performance stared on with wide-eyes and with beaks hanging open, their minds still processing the event just a few moments ago.

Apollyon took their shocked faces as his cue to shift his attention to Regana, her psykanic fury beginning to subside as his hand gently caressed her corporeal form.

“My thanks, my dear.” He whispered sincerely, receiving a series of melodic tunes in response.

Thrown into a rage, the Captain rushed onto his hind legs, drew his sword and charged the man, keeping his pent-up anger inside until the last possible second, that is until the Mantle sparked to life and released an ear-piercing banshee-like shriek into the air, forcing every griffon in the vicinity to ground.

Winged quadrupeds rained from above, crashing onto the field harshly with no given opportunity to use their wings to slow their fall, while griffons hidden in the treeline expose themselves to Apollyon as they fell forward, rolling on their sides with talons planted to the sides of their helmets.

Nevertheless, each of them suffered under the Mantle’s fury; Crying out guttural screams from the bottom of their lungs, begging for the noises that overwhelmed their senses to stop.

“MAKE THEM STOP!” Each one of them yelled, “MAKE THEM STOP, THE VOICES! MAKE THE VOICES STOP!”

Apollyon and Regana watched observed the spectacle from where they stood, one checking the time on his pocket watch nonchalantly while the other let the notes of her soothing songs flow into his ears.

And with his eyes occupied with the thinnest hand ticking over to the next numeral in line, a gap emerged between the cries of the mercenaries, being filled in with pained groans and ragged breaths.

Helmets flew off their heads and came tumbling along the grass as they removed them, in hopes of blocking out the so-called ‘voices.’

Apollyon watched them squirm and flail about a little more, and only after deciding if they had enough, did he snap his fingers, signalling the Mantle to cease its assault, which left the only screams in the field to belong to the griffons.

With their screams beginning to die down, Apollyon made his way towards the Captain with long strides in his steps, crouching low to the ground once he had arrived near his head.

“Is that all you have to offer, gryphon?” He asked, scoffing, “Just some primitive bolts and some pain filled screams and begging? In all honesty, I expected more from a species who claims to be superior to Ponykind and their so-called ‘Gods.’”

Ears still ringing and with vision blurred beyond all recognition, the Captain's talons wrapped themselves around the closest thing he could identify, that being Apollyon’s boots.

“Stand, gryphon! Put your strength up for display! Prove to your non-existent Gods that you’re worthy of entering your non-existent kingdom in the sky!”

With that said, Apollyon pulled his leg away with ease, finding the Captain’s hold on him to be feeble, as he expected.

All the Captain could do look up at an undefined figure, brows narrowing as his talons furrowed themselves into the dirt, leaving their mark behind as tried to stand up on all fours, “D-damn, ape!” He spat, face meeting the dirt once his legs gave out.

A heavy sigh left Apollyon’s mouth, shaking his head disappointingly at the griffons before he turned his backs to them, eyes set on his faithful companion.

Arms wide open with palms facing the pale blue sky, he bellowed from the bottom of his lungs, “Come, Regana! Display true strength to these lowlifes! Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!”

Heeding to his commands, agitated flames and lightning began to grow out of control as her form grew brighter, and without being interrupted, the entity emitted a brief flash of blinding light - a light so immensely powerful that it shined through forelegs or arms and eyelids shielding one's eyes.

Everyone shielded their eyes and looked away, some even to go as far as to show them their backs. But in the end, as the coruscation passed and the sounds of intense crackling of fire and lightning fading away, they turned their eyes to face the wisp, only finding themselves staring at an equally strange yet familiar phenomenon.

A glowing purple translucent form of a giant wolf with a set of plain blank white eyes with irises being non-existent. A single white marking of a candelabra that was displayed proudly on its forehead, chest and hind spots. And within its translucent form, around the area of the wolf’s translucent furry chest of where the heart would be located, resided the entity herself.

The griffons uttered shocked gasps with the slow appearance of a growing set of jagged canine teeth. Their heart plummeting into the abyss of their stomach as aggressive snarls and territorial growling was directed at them.

With a hand, Apollyon felt up her leg, running the appendage through its glowing fur. He could feel a warm life-giving sensation pulsating from the wolf’s core throughout the body, with the form of the entity brightening up and dimming down, mimicking the rhythm of a soothing heartbeat.

His hand soon returned to his side after giving it a series of pats, his cold stare now falling solely on the fallen Captain, who was kind enough to do the same, “Rather fascinating… Wouldn’t you agree? Such a magnificent being, a beautiful creation of Anima; one that will break the status quo of the world.”

The griffon angled his head and spat out a projectile of gathered saliva onto the grass, an action that made Apollyon shake his head before he continued to watch the xeno focus on his recovery, with his subordinates doing the same.

Though despite his efforts blocking his voice out, focusing on regulating his breathing whilst also seeking for some form of spiritual or physical strength to stand, he couldn’t help but pay heed as something alarming passed his lips.

“Get them.” Apollyon said, withdrawing from Regana’s side and planting his rear and leaning back on the manor’s stone steps, with the Mantle right beside him.

All eyes fell upon Regana, most overtaken with fear, dread and worry as they identified her as the foe they were to face.

That is, if they possessed the courage to confront her.

“Fight or flee. I care not which, for you, will serve me well either way.”

Apollyon tested the griffon's patience when he curled up a smile, forcing the Captain to rise with his sword in his grasp, now directing its pointed edge at him.

“So what will it be, human?! Fight or flee?”

Apollyon raised a brow, nonchalantly pulling out his pocket watch to glance at the time before lowering it and looking at the griffon, “Neither.”

The Captain recoiled slightly back, looking as he was somewhat offended by his response, “Why not? Are you apes too cowardly to fight your battles? Stop cowering behind some relative of an ursa and face us like a real warrior!”

Apollyon lightly chuckled, ignoring the insults and provocative statements as his eyes shifted over to the lifeless prisoners, “You should’ve listened to that kid’s stories more often. If you did, then you could’ve had a chance at a more fulfilling life.”

Swiftly, the leader glanced at the Kid, locked onto his cloudy eyes, mind flashing back to all the stories told.

“But it's too late now,” The man continued, gathering the griffon’s attention. “And I grow bored with this conversation. Take them.” He ended with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Regana howled to the skies above before charging the Captain, shaking the earth with each step.

Surprisingly, he managed to centre and keep himself balanced and thus stood his ground in face of the colossal threat. Once in melee range, he bravely unleashed an opening thrust directed to her nose, not expecting it to hit but hoping it would deter a swift lunge attack.

And it worked, just like he thought it would.

Seeing the wolf hold back, confidence surged in the Captain. He stepped forward, thrusting and swinging his sword, but despite the increase in aggression, he always returned to a guard position.

His boldness inspired his subordinates to recover and move in to support their leader as quickly as possible.

Some took to the skies while others remained on the ground, but they equally tested Regana’s capabilities.

So far, she had dodged every attack flawlessly, strangely, even when her eyes were drawn elsewhere. But with numbers on the griffon's side, they knew it was only a matter of time till her luck ran out.

Not seeing anything but growls and barks come their way, the mercenaries grew bolder and more reckless. Dangerously closing in, well, within striking distance of mouth and paws alike.

And just as they were going to make an aggressive push to do some damage, she struck back and drew first blood.

Gracefully slipping a griffon’s thrust, she exploited his blindside, getting a mouthful of hybrid eagle before chomping down, teeth crushing bone and armour with minimal effort.

When the others moved in to strike the wolf, bellowing out a vengeful battle cry, every griffon in the vicinity felt the impact of a highly dense concentrated amount of kinetic energy. Those on the ground were sent to the treeline they appeared from, while those in the air were sent further beyond, crash landing somewhere in the Everfree.

And as they moaned and groaned and tried to recoup after having the wind knocked out of them, Regana shook the earth with a stomp, bringing into existence a series of oddities.

Rifts of arcane energies tore itself into reality near each griffon. It shifted and reformed itself into a vortex or a whirlpool of differing shades of purple with particles of the same energy rising, following an anticlockwise motion much like the rift itself.

With the sudden manifestation of such an anomaly, it was only natural for the mercenaries to try and crawl away; Entrenching their decrepit talons into the soil and pulling on blades of grass just to gain a few centimetres of ground.

But regardless of how hard they forced themselves, even with adrenaline, urgency and purpose pushing them, their efforts could never be enough.

From within the abyss of the rifts, an uncounted number of dark, identical chains shot out into the world with malicious intent. They each wrapped themselves around the closest limb, preventing them from fleeing.

Though it didn’t stop some from trying.

Some resisted; pulling on their chains in a vain attempt to loosen it, while others were still content on trying to flee.

They were so narrowly focused on their own goals that they failed to notice more cold chains slithering towards them in a snake-like pattern, and by the time they did, it was already too late…

Metal links latched onto their limbs and secured them down, giving the opportunity for the other seemingly living pieces of metal to creep up their limbs or circle them like predatory sharks.

Panic had ensued once cold chain links had secured themselves around winged appendages and armoured torsos. With primal cries being let loose from their beaks as those same chains strangled the life out of them.

And those who resisted endured a crueller fate than those who did not.

Their lower fur coats bled crimson, while their upper feathered layers would be rubbed harshly off their skin, granting real estate for a number of shameless brands to be imprinted upon.

As blackened chains heated up into a fiery magma orange, their cries intensified, sending nearby wildlife into a cowering frenzy, seeking refuge in their homes and among their kind until the ongoing conflict subsided.

“Throw Skeiron and some others to the side.” Apollyon ordered, making the entity crane her head in his direction, “I need some to be capable of limping back home to their nests. For what good are messengers if they arrive at their location unable to fulfil their purpose?”

There came no response from her, but there did not need to be any, for it came in the form of deeds.

She turned her attention back to the mercenaries and did what was demanded.

As per his will, the chains had Skeiron and a few randomly selected harshly tossed aside like how a child discards unwanted toys. The others weren’t so lucky, being forced to be branded against their will, the pain being so incomprehensible that some passed out or died outright while those who possessed a more brutal and stubborn will screamed at the top of their lungs with bleeding vocal cords and yet continued to endure and live.

“Some fine warriors here.” Apollyon claimed, passing them a brief nod of solemn respect, “But… it is a shame they have sealed their fate. Dispose of them.”

Regana acted without hesitation, already utilising her mental will to pick up their weapons and direct their pointed ends at those who remained chained, naturally lining up a shot in the gaps or the weak points of their armour.

As their blades remained suspended high above the ground, she craned her head over to Apollyon, seeking his final approval and with a response that came in a grim nod, their own respective weapons came crashing down to their desired targets, ending their lives quickly and putting an end to their suffering, with the last thing they saw being an unholy form of an abomination as the life in their defiant eyes faded into obscurity.

And so, the chains retreated from whence they came, uncoiling themselves from impaled corpses, retracting back into the enshrouded depths of the rifts, and compelling the anomalies to cease to exist; Rapidly shrinking and collapsing in on itself until it was nothing but a humble, harmless purple speck of what it once was.

Skeiron and those lucky enough to be tossed aside like a rag doll and those who were luckier to remain conscious for a chance to recover could do nothing but stare at the bloody scene in mere shock. Eyes engulfed with disbelief and their beaks open.

Apollyon chose this as the moment to address them; Getting off his rear and walking to Regana’s side, he began speaking to the griffons, starting with a gesture to those who laid behind him.

“Let this be a message to all those who will or have transgressed against us. Those behind us had the privilege and the honour of being the first to fall before our unrivalled might - May them and others like them continue to follow suit.” He paused for a moment, now gesturing to the griffons before him, “I now grant you this moment to depart, gryphons. Seek out your guild, seek out your masters, we have full intent of bestowing the same privilege and honour to them as we have to those behind us.”

The griffons were paralysed with indecision; With most looking at each other, seeking some form of guidance on which path to take. Though soon enough, one of those who remained rose from the dirt and pushed himself up onto his hind legs, blade drawn and at-the-ready.

This had surely caught Apollyon’s attention, whose expression turned neutral as others followed that griffon’s lead, except for one, who slowly limped into the treeline.

“Fool…” The first griffon spat, “You give us terms that both lead to a dead end… Which of them do you think we are prone to choose?”

Apollyon stayed silent for a moment, a dissapointed frown taking shape on his face, “Very well then. A good death it is.”

He then looked to Regana, who in turn looked to him; seeking orders. After being given a simple nod, she let out a drawn out howl before making her cautious approach, growling as she did so.

Most of those who remained stood firm on their own, while some others trembled in the face of certain death, but a primal cry from the first griffon compelled them to stand strong with their comrades.

“Pain now; Reward in the afterlife!” The griffon shouted, his sword raised high, “Charge!”

The other griffons charged into certain doom, with fear and the instinct to flee suppressed from the resulting battle cry.

Regana charged in turn, closing the distance quickly with her long strides, leading to the griffons to halt their advance and collectively brace themselves for the impact. Standing together, and pointing the ends of their bladed weapons at the entity, the frontline attempted to thrust their mixture of swords and spears into her chest.

But before they could pull off such a feat, a burst of blinding holy light erupted from the wisp that laid in the creature’s chest, quickly blinding the griffons frontline before Regana rammed straight into them, shattering the line and crushing two underneath her weight.

The griffons tried to move quickly to recover and stabilise in order to fight back, but they were never given a chance, for Regana mauled them down, showing no mercy nor hesitation. But as she was terminating one griffon, she narrowly dodged a spear, one that barely grazed the top of her muzzle.

Looking in the direction in which the spear came, her ears flattened back as she growled and bared her teeth at a pair of injured and weary griffons

“Nice throw, Pontus.” One jabbed, passing him a sword that laid on the ground.

“Shut up, Thistle.” The other retorted, readying his blade.

Regana slowly approached the two, stopping just short of them before steadily moving back in an attempt to keep both in sight as they tried to keep to her sides.

“You know what they say… the bigger they are, they harder they-” Pontus suddenly let out a deafening shriek the moment he felt a burning pain in his side. Vision blurred and breathing heavy, the surrounding sounds faded in and out as his head slowly craned over to his side.

He quickly identified a foreign object embedded deep within him, one that was enveloped in a purple aura, it pierced the chain mail just underneath the plate, causing crimson red to flow. The moment the aura dissipated into thin air, the will and strength to stand departed his body, forcing him to crash onto his knees and fall onto his right side, with indistinct figures and voice being the last thing he saw or heard before all became black.

“Pontus!” Thistle cried out, staring at the lifeless body.

He wouldn’t stay stunned for long, for he began bellowing out a battle cry as he moved in with his sword held just behind his head to hack. His form spilling with righteous fury, he brought it up high over his head and down to slash at the entity. But she swiftly and gracefully cut an angle and swatted with a front paw from behind, sending the griffon across the area until he was forcefully halted by a tree.

Despite the harsh impact he endured, Thistle kept moving, albeit very slow and minor. There was an attempt to push himself up, but after the sounds of loud pops and cracks, he dropped to his side; shrieking until his lungs were deprived of oxygen.

Panting heavily, he kept his mind centred on the methods of his breathing, trying to keep it slow and methodical as his constricted pupils jumped from corner to corner. His hearing began to fade in and out, with the only sound being distinctly heard was his heart, which pounded inside his chest. Though, it began to pick up the pace the moment his eyes locked onto Apollyon, who crouched before him.

“Your stalwart courage demands commendation, gryphon. Your kind has always proven to display such feats in the face of such... abnormality. Were circumstances different...” He held his tounge, eyes flashing as they widened, "...No. The offences committed are punishable by death."

Apollyon held out a hand, one festooned with a glowing blanket of purple, before resting it on Thistle’s forehead, “May you rest peacefully in Her warm, eternal embrace.”

Thistle’s enraged expression softened upon his touch, his heart rate slowed and the lids of his eyes grew heavy. Within seconds, his tense body eased up slightly, eyes shut and breathing seemingly ceased. After that, it didn’t take long for his body to settle and relax completely.

Apollyon remained there in absolute silence for a few moments, only rising and returning to Regana’s side once he was ready. As he repeatedly ran a hand through her translucent fur, his eyes stared at a certain part of the Everfree.

Upon hearing a series of incoherent whispers, he relented, “I see… Well then, keep me updated and make sure nothing disturbs his journey, will you, my dear?”

She paid him a nod moment before he sighed and headed in the direction of the stone steps. Hearing one last howl and witnessing a bright flash originating from behind, he found himself walking alongside a floating Regana without her wolf extension.

“With Skeiron already gone, we must deal with the passing of his disgraced band of mercenaries.”

Regana’s form brightened with a set of whispers.

“No.” He said sternly, “You must rest while there is no conflict. Have some menials strip them of anything useful before piling them up somewhere elsewhere and torching their bodies.”

Again, more whispers though with her entire form glancing towards the manor.

Apollyon sighed, his hand massaging his temples for a few moments before he spoke, “Though I wish for nothing to hold them in my arms and seclude myself for the day. Unfortunately, I must inspect the local populace. The mercenaries weren’t exactly subtle, and so it is likely the populace are in uproar and in immediate need of pacification, so it is dire that I attend to them.”

Regana emitted a series of melodic chimes whilst briefly shaking.

“Yes. Rest well. If I need you, I will summon you.”

Her form radiated brightly just moments before she retreated through the manor doors. And with their exchange complete, he stood at the top of the stairs with the Mantle at his side and a hand behind his back, witnessing menial wisps litter the field and carrying out the duties set out for them.

Author's Note:

Comments and criticism are highly appreciated and more than welcome :twilightsmile:

Comments ( 7 )

This comment is reserved for individual likes and dislikes directed towards the chapter.

Bit harsh, but in line with most martial conflicts ... even if mercy for the Kid and companion wouldn't have changed anything ...

Seems I've caught up, I'm not quite sure how long this story is going to be, but it definitely feels like it's set up for a reeeaally long journey, which I'm completely fine with, the longer the better.

I would love to see some more motivation from apol, we know generally what his end goal is, but how he treats other creatures seems to contradict that.

I am dreadfully curious how our resident thestral plays into this, I'm not sure even she knows.

The griffon scenes were wonderfully written and they had my full sympathies for their losses, even if I didn't like the whole kidnapping and selling of a certain equine.

The writing itself is decent, a few spots here or there have missing words or odd anomalies ref. "differen't". Certainly readable, but could use an editor helping to streamline things.

I do question the intent of making the alicorn sisters so young as to be toddlers struggling to learn their first words, adorable, certainly, but there's not been much tying them into the story yet. I imagine we'll find more once we start delving into apols backstory.

Keep it up, this is a nice work you have going here :twilightsmile:

10955045
One of the best comments I've had in quite some time. Thank you very much! :twilightsmile:

It does please me to hear such a comment about the griffons scenes (more so than you'd know, mate). I aim to write scenes like those to a similar degree or to one that exceeds it as to not leave viewers wanting.

Getting an editor is definitely on my priorities as it was suggested before. I believe I possess one in mind for the next chapter that I hope to release soon, it's just a manner of working out the kinks and such, thank you.

The writing is definitely something that needs to be addressed. I hope to actively improve upon it when writing future chapters. Unfortunately, I can't promise it may be a drastic improvement, but even a slight improvement is a win :twilightsheepish:

10956169
Eh, it's really just a practice thing, your writing will get easier and more fluid over time, right now it's plenty adequate.

And I'm glad your putting that kind of effort into side characters. With how much you were avoiding having characters talk in the early chapters I had feared the dialouge would be terrible, but these scenes proved otherwise. Apol really likes to drive conversations so it's hard to get a lot a character from the individuals he talks to, but the griffins had a ton of variety, and weren't just evil goons for no reason.

Not sure I know of many editors, but I'd hunt around some discord servers, or maybe some of the forums. A lot of editors are cautious about people wanting them to essentially write for them. Shouldn't be an issue since you seem to be able to get words out plenty well, but just a heads up. Multiple editors never really hurt, as long as they have their own thing they do and work in stages/ work together

10956357
Ah, alrighty, noted. Cheers mate. I will look around once I'm satisfied with the next chapter, which hopefully doesn't take too long. :twilightsmile:

In the artwork the design of his cloths remind of me Sheogoraths design.

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