A Method to his Madness

by Luna-tic Scientist

7 -- Bringing a knife to a gunfight

Sundiver, sweating inside his golden armour, watched as the gryphons fell through the scattered pegasus defensive lines. He was new to the Embassy guard, rotated in only a few months before for the start of his first one-year posting. He was one of only three Guard unicorns at the Embassy -- the rest being pegasi in keeping with the local’s lack of magic and ability to fly -- and had spent more time doing heavy lifting than the work he’d trained for. Up until a couple of days ago this post had been quiet, and unlike the earth ponies -- who the locals tended to ignore - unicorns were actively avoided.

Those first few weeks had been a strange experience; none of the gryphons he’d spoken to back in Equestria had any issues with magic, most even managed to hide their almost instinctive pity for any creature unable to fly. The locals were something else entirely; even the more cosmopolitan ‘big city’ folk tended to avoid them, let alone a gryphon from an outlying district. This had made the unicorn pony population a tight-knit little group, much smaller than would have been expected from the total pony numbers. These conditions and attitudes were well known back in Equestria, resulting in lower proportion of earth and unicorn ponies.

They'd not been flying for very long, a few minutes at most, but this sort of climb was very hard on the untrained wing, and were just thinking about cycling out the civilian pullers, when the gryphons had worked up the nerve to attack again. Up until that point he'd hoped that they would out-climb the big-winged carnivores, but no such luck. "Here they come!" he shouted to the rest of the passengers. High overhead the gryphons had started their dive; it would only be seconds before they would be upon the pegasus defenders.

He cursed under his breath as the majority of the attackers avoided the Guard and security pegasi, heading straight for the convoy and central cloud of civilians. About thirty slipped past the cordon and split up to target the chariots. Around him there was a nervous shuffling of hooves, then all the unicorns lit their horns.

Of the twenty or so in his chariot there were only three other unicorns, most were general diplomatic staff with the exception of Ratchet. Ratchet was the Embassy's spellcraft engineer, a career that would be expected to favour precision magic rather than raw strength. She'd joined the staff five years ago and quickly found herself roped into doing a lot more than just manipulating the crystallised magic captured within the solid-state spellcraft devices. Five years of shifting the building's large store of spares, repairing the unreliable number two generator and servicing the surprisingly heavy long-range communications gear had left her with an unexpected reservoir of strength.

Sundiver had organised the other pair of unicorns into a single group, asking them to work together against anything he or Ratchet missed. They had neither the range nor the raw strength of Ratchet, but this way they'd have some backup when the first gryphon got through. Ratchet and himself would operate independently.

The stallion swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as the enormity of the task became obvious. Six chariots and only three combat trained unicorns to cover them and the pegasi hovering in the centre of the formation. Shunting aside his fears, Sundiver narrowed his eyes and let power flow into his horn. Within half a second a dazzling white bead had appeared at its tip, bright enough to cast shadows even in the sunlight. Before he could release it a pale blue glow enveloped the attacker's wings and the gryphon's beak opened in surprise as he lost stability and started to tumble.

Sundiver glanced sideways at Ratchet, hearing the breath wheeze through her clenched teeth. He'd wondered how the engineer was going to stop a creature as big as a gryphon -- that mass moving at ninety kilometres an hour would be almost impossible to hold. The mare hadn't tried; instead she'd used her years of fine manipulation training to actually twist her target's wings and force it to swerve wildly. Excellent idea, filly, Sundiver thought, there's no way I could do that.

Locating his next target, he took aim and released the magic, turning it from a point to a fast moving streak. The pulse was fast, although not as fast as a bullet. Fortunately the range was relatively short and his target was heading for the next chariot over. The magical charge struck the gryphon square on the flank, enveloping him in a crackling cage of lightning. The gryphon spasmed and went limp, falling away with little trails of smoke spiralling off his wingtips and tail. Charging his horn again, Sundiver felt a wave of fatigue wash through his body, ignored it, and released the pulse at the next gryphon.

The amount of power he was using was about twice what he’d use on a pony, which seemed about right for the body mass. Back in basic training they'd all had a chance to practice with this particular spell, both as a shooter and target. Those days had been a heady mix of terror and elation; stalking his comrades through the old catacombs of the Royal Palace or in the dead of night in some secure forest area. It sharpened the mind and built magical strength wonderfully when you knew that around the next corner might be another unicorn eager to get you before you could get them.

He'd been on the receiving end more than once; the spell was painful, but short lived, knocking out the victim for a few seconds and making them groggy and uncoordinated for a dozen more. They were several kilometres up by now; for something like a gryphon that was well over a minute of freefall, more than enough time to recover and land safely. I hope, he thought grimly.

What he had forgotten was how taxing the spell was, especially on 'rapid fire.' After a few more shots he was starting to miss, the fine control required evaporating even as the numbers of gryphons seemed undiminished. He still had power in reserve, just not quite enough for this particular spell. There were other options, though; most unicorns could use their telekinesis all day without tiring. Sundiver made up his mind and dismissed the half-formed stunner spell to reach into his flank armour’s equipment pack and pull out his 'encourager' -- a thirty centimetre metal rod covered in silicone.

Direct telekinetic strikes were a poor choice in a fight; although a strong unicorn could apply a lot of force, they couldn’t do so instantly. You could open a door with your magic, but to knock it down still required a good kick. That was why for the rare occasions a Guard needed to employ violence they used a physical object. Much like a hoof enjoyed plenty of leverage from being at the end of an array of tendons and bones, with something heavy in your magic you could build up a good speed and do real damage when it struck.

He still remembered the day, just before he'd gone off to basic training, when his sire had pulled him aside to give him a going away present. The other pony, still a hulking stallion even in his advanced years, had nudged him away from his tearful dam and younger brother and into one of the empty waiting rooms on the train station platform. 'Colt', he'd said, 'I've got a little something for you, served me well when I was in the Guard.' He'd then looked guiltily over his shoulder and lowered his voice. 'Just for Luna's sake don't let your dam know, she thinks I got rid of the thing years ago.' He'd then passed the 'encourager' to Sundiver.

The young unicorn had nearly dropped the thing, such was its unexpected weight. His father had gone on to explain that it was still regulation, even though it was about twice the weight of the current model, 'you could get a much better swing with it.' He knew the current issue was made of a tough ceramic with a plastic coating; this one was as basic as it came: a silicone-covered steel pipe filled with lead. He’d had the thing ever since; although it had raised a few ears among his instructors, when they heard it was his sire's, they just smiled and nodded.

Feeling the comfortable weight of the club he sent it whirling out towards the next gryphon. They were coming thick and fast now, and he was forced to swing wildly just to get to the target. The gryphon, too focused on his own target, didn't see the rod until it was too late.

The gryphon's own speed, coupled with Sundiver's desperate strength, meant it was like being hit with a sledgehammer. The half-bird seemed to fold up around the rod; wings going limp and eyes losing focus, it started to fall, retaining just enough control to convert the plummet into a glide. The Guard felt a twinge of guilt at that; he had forgotten about the gryphon's forward speed. Hopefully the soft coating on the weapon had spread the impact enough to avoid breaking bones. Then all sympathy vanished and he sent the encourager spinning towards the next gryphon.

===

The impact knocked the wind out of Trailblazer. Briefly stunned, he thrashed his wings helplessly to try and break free of the crushing grip on his shoulders and ribs. He'd been aiming for this gryphon himself, but the flyer had changed course at the last moment and he'd been unable to go for the grazing wing attack he'd planned. He'd had just enough time to rear up in the air and go belly to belly with his attacker, keeping his hooves between them.

The gryphon's hooked beak reached for the unarmoured patch at the base of his throat. Baring his teeth, Trailblazer ducked his head, catching the beak on his muzzle guard. The gryphon didn't seem to care, and its beak snapped shut on the sergeant’s head instead. With the sharp edges of the beak cutting into the unprotected parts of his muzzle and eyes seeing nothing but a close up view of the gryphon's feathered neck and chest, Trailblazer reached forwards with his featherblades to try and slash at his attacker's flanks.

The gryphon felt the sergeant move and twisted out of the way, tightening its talons in a reflexive squeeze that made the pony gasp. Nightmare-damned stupid mess, Trailblazer thought, struggling against the gryphon's greater strength, if Night or Blevie see this I'll never hear the end of it. Ducking his head still further he dug the ceremonial helmet's metal crest into the side of the gryphon's head, just where the two parts of the beak met.

The gryphon hissed, its hot, rank breath making Trailblazer wrinkle his nose, and twisted its head hard, trying to break his neck. That might work if you were a manticore, you overgrown feather duster, he thought, shrugging off its effort. Gryphons had immensely strong backs and legs and looked bull-necked, but most of that bulk was feathers. The pegasus' neck was just as thick and it was all muscle. Jerking his own head back and forth took the gryphon by surprise and it opened its beak to avoid more impacts from the helmet's crest.

Seeing an opening, Trailblazer lashed out with his free forehoof and caught the gryphon on the side of its head with one weighted shoe. Stunned for an instant, the gryphon's talons loosened a little, enough that Trailblazer could twist around and bring his wing tips up and rake the blades along the furry hindquarters. The angle was bad and he didn't have the speed he would have had in a free flight duel but the edges were razor sharp. The gryphon shrieked and fell away, flapping weakly as it clutched at its sides, blood flowing freely through the fur.

"Finally!" Trailblazer growled, twisting back over and heading after the flock. His Guards had done a good job of scattering the attackers, but there had been just too many of them. If they'd stopped to engage the defenders like he'd hoped, the ponies would have been able to keep them away from the convoy; now they had no chance. His ears flicked forwards as he heard the flat crack of a small calibre projectile weapon firing, then again and again.

Zeroing in on the noise he saw it: a gryphoness in an unnatural flying posture, one foreclaw outstretched and holding a small pistol. Already one of the Dreaming's security team had been hit, the unarmoured mare falling free towards the convoy. As he pumped his wings he saw her aim and shoot again, missing this time as the rest of the security team scattered. She must have caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, as she flicked sideways and angled the gun in his direction.

Lowering his head to protect his throat again, Trailblazer trusted to his armour and the difficulties of hitting a moving target. He made no effort to jink, closing the distance as fast as possible. The gryphon got off three shots in that time; the first made his helmet ring as it bounced off the muzzle guard, while the second nearly sent him tumbling when it struck the thin plating over his left wing elbow. He didn't know where the third went. Flashing past the gryphoness midway between wing shoulder and hind legs he flexed his feathers to put the featherblade at full extension.

In his peripheral vision Trailblazer saw the gryphoness start to tumble, seriously unbalanced by the loss of most of the feathers on her left wing. She curved away towards the ground, screaming curses in his direction. I hope you break something when you hit, he thought back, already hunting for his next target.

===

Night Storm sat panting in the bottom of the chariot, trying to see past the flashes and flickers of the migraine brought on by her overuse of magic during their breakout from the Embassy. Trailblazer had warned her not to overdo it, but she knew that if they didn't break contact with the gryphons at the start and get some clear air they weren't going to get anywhere. She put everything she had into that spell, blocking the sunlight from a sphere over a quarter a kilometre across. It had been glorious while it lasted; the gryphons all tumbling and confused while the ponies' superior night vision let them open the range.

As with all great magical effort it came with a cost; in her case a mind-numbing pain that roared through her head, making it hard to see, let alone think. There was nothing wrong with her hearing, though, and she heard the screams and gunshots even through the haze in her mind. She gasped when some pony shook her shoulder.

"Guard, you've got to help!" said a panicked voice, "I can't reach him."

Shaking her head in a futile attempt to clear her sparkling vision, she peered in the direction he indicated, seeing the bloodied shape of a pony tumble past. Instinctively she reached out, horn flaring and telekinesis straining for the falling pegasus. Every unicorn had a different magical strength, just like some pegasi were faster than others or some earth ponies stronger. Most specialised in one particular magical area; very few were strong at everything. Night Storm wasn't one of those, although she did have a wider range of capabilities than most.

What made her special was the amount of power she could put out, even if only briefly. She was no Twilight Sparkle, but she could do things that would make other unicorns gasp in amazement -- then wince in pity as she collapsed in agony from the overexertion. Night Storm took a deep breath and reached out her telekinetic 'mouth' as fast as possible, hunting for the falling pony by the feedback resistance through the magic. She had to be quick, not so much because of the cold equations governing falling objects, but because she would only be able to concentrate for a moment.

The pain doubled and she had the sudden urge to vomit, but she felt the limp shape even as her vision faded into darkness. With a final effort Night grabbed the falling pony and pulled hard, unmindful of any further damage she might do. That done, she had just enough presence of mind to pull back her tongue and snap her teeth shut as the seizure bent her back like a bow and turned any remaining thoughts into static.

She missed the next bit, twitching and writhing in her own personal Tartarus, although the other unicorn passengers would speak of it in awe for years afterwards. How she'd managed to not only stop the pony's fall, but reverse it on an arc that would have taken the mare high above the chariots had another telekinetic field not pulled her to safety.

===

Blevie rearranged the row of knotted cords hanging out of her panniers for what seemed like the hundredth time. She'd already fixed the little chef's blowtorch to the side of the chariot, and secured it so the blue needle of a flame was shielded from the slipstream by one of the ornate torch brackets that the Dreaming's engineers hadn't bothered to remove. Poking her head over the edge, she turned sideways to let one eye take in the sky while the other scanned the ground.

Their followers were still there, of course. Probably biding their time until we're distracted, she thought. High overhead the gryphons started turning from the 'T' shapes of soaring birds to the 'V' of falling darts. Feeling a smile start to build, she switched all her attention to the followers, confident that Trailblazer and the others would provide top cover. Sure enough, a few seconds after the dive started the gryphons below pumped their wings and accelerated to attack from beneath.

Blevie reached quickly around and grabbed one of the knots, pulling it from her bag and letting the apple-sized sphere of tightly-wound string and glue dangle freely from the end. She pushed her head over the side and checked the positions of the gryphons. Good, they're bunching together to get between the chariots, she thought, then turned to the rest of the passengers.

There were two dozen ponies packed into a space designed to hold ten in comfort. She winked at the stern-faced unicorn Guard assigned to this chariot, then addressed the remainder who stared back at her with frightened eyes.

"Don't worry folks, just a few little fireworks," she said, or at least tried to; between her wide grin and the knotted cord between her teeth not a single word was intelligible.

Seeing nothing but incomprehension in all present she shrugged and turned, waving the trailing end of the string through the blowtorch's flame. The fuse caught easily, the string burning with a hiss and a sputtering lilac flare. Dangling the ball over the side she watched it burn, fascinated for a second, then flicked her head up and over to whip the ball around at the end of the cord, releasing it to fly towards the oncoming gryphons. With quick, economical motions she repeated the action twice more, the little spheres tracing smoky arcs through the clear air.

Pulling out a fourth she paused, counting silently in her head, to look over the side. There was a pinprick flash of dazzling white, followed a second later by a thunderous detonation, loud enough to make her ears sing even at this distance. Not waiting for the other two to explode she lit the next fuse, frowning in concentration as she tried to predict how the gryphons would scatter. That they would scatter she had no doubt; even trained soldiers would at least flinch at an unexpected bombardment. She made her decision and let the bomb fly.

Down below the flock squawked in dismay as the first flash bomb exploded. These weren't fragmentation weapons -- if they had been the casualties among the unarmoured gryphons would have been horrific -- instead they were closer to the bird scarers used by farmers to protect fragile crops. Two hundred grams of aluminium dust and potassium perchlorate, loosely packed and lovingly wrapped in a dozen yards of glue-soaked string, pulled tight with as much force as Blevie could safely apply. The mixture was a fast one; confined within its composite case it exploded with astonishing violence when the fuse burnt down.

Having cast her tenth bomb, Blevie looked down with a critical eye, the eleventh dangling from her teeth. I've still got it, she thought, smiling past the rope. The once compact stream of feathered hate that had been rapidly closing on them was now scattered across the sky. The gryphons in the chase flock had been the more cautious of the original crowd -- otherwise they would have gone for the classic top-down attack -- and the barrage of ear-shattering explosions had shaken them further. Three quarters had decided that these ponies were just not worth the effort and curved back towards the now distant city. The remainder, maybe fifty in total, had given up on the direct attack and were spiralling around the convoy, out of range even of Blevie's skilful aim.

===

As Ripper Of Flesh dove, the chariots lit up like jars full of fireflies. Most were the dull glows of normal magic, the same colour as the coat of its owner, but a few were the brilliant blue-white of a welder's arc. From these flashed fast moving streaks of white-hot magic, targeted unerringly at the lead gryphons. The unicorns aim seemed to be almost supernatural in its accuracy; every shot Ripper saw found its mark, the unfortunate target being briefly englobed in crackling arcs of electricity before falling, stunned, out of the flock. No way to avoid this now, he thought, it will take me longer to escape than attack, and once I'm on them they won't be able to use their witch powers. Magic or not, that was electricity and there was no way to only electrocute one individual out of a fighting pair.

He was close now, no more than fifty metres, when the club came flying in his direction. It was almost invisible against the backdrop of the mountains and he'd have missed it if it hadn't been almost directly in front of him. Twisting his wings in a panic, Ripper slewed sideways, feeling the weapon pass between his legs with frightening speed, close enough that he could have reached out and grabbed it with his beak.

A little bit of fear welled up, but was quickly swamped by the anger. With half a second to go he brought his forelimbs up and spread the talons wide, flaring his wings at the last instant to reduce his forward velocity. With a jolt that was ecstasy to the primitive part of his brain still built for hunting, Ripper slammed into the pastel green pegasus tied into the traces of one of the chariots. His claws closed reflexively, digging into the firm muscles of the prey's wings and haunches.

Under his talons the pony bucked and thrashed, but did little more than make his razor claws dig deeper into its flesh. He screamed out his joy, joined in song by the screams from the other prey nearby. Soon, their time will come soon, a thought that was not his own murmured. He found himself nodding in agreement, then reached down between the traces and dug his beak into the pony's belly.

There was a deafening explosion somewhere beneath him, then another and another. The sound brought back memories of the culmination of the three month basic training at the start of his conscription. He still had occasional nightmares about those two days: a wargame ending in an assault against a prepared position equipped with radar-guided anti-air guns. It had all been simulated, of course, but these events had been run so many times that the military had raised them to a fine art -- they were horrifically realistic.

The string of detonations, the shockwaves -- faint though they were at this distance -- all conspired to bring those memories flooding back. Ripper froze with his beak biting half through pastel green fur, blood flowing into his mouth. The memories and emotions washed away the rage that flooded him and left him thinking clearly for the second time that day. Suddenly very confused, he opened his beak, raised his head and looked around. He stared in disbelief at the aerial carnage; the sky was full of injured gryphons and battered ponies, while bolts of lightning and small glow-enveloped objects moved with terrible speed. Overhead the aerial knife fight continued, while underneath there was a continual rain of gryphons who'd had enough and were retreating to safe roosts to recuperate.

What am I doing? he thought, looking at the limp pony beneath his talons for the first time. He started when he felt the body move weakly, relief rushing through him. I haven't killed it. Something welled up from the bottom of his brain, a flickering vision of yellow, horribly hypnotic eyes coupled with a flood of rage, that blurred his vision and filled him with the desire for violence. His talons twitched, prompting another shudder from the pony, and Ripper pushed back at the anger, realising that it had been forced upon him. Witch magic, he thought, trying to sort through his confusion, but from where?

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely to the stunned ponies, then gently opened his talons and pulled them away from the blood-stained fur, folded his wings and diving for the ground. Panic was rising in his breast. Where is my mate? he thought, Is she caught up in this madness? What about my daughter? Where is my family?

All around him the fight drained out of his flockmates; first a few then more and more turned tail and fled back to their homes, cured, at least for now, of whatever had afflicted them. Within a few minutes the tide had turned and even the remainder who wanted to fight realised the futility of their cause and fell back, leaving the sky to the ponies.

Comments

[Cedric Bale]

I kind of hope Ripper stays a part of this story somehow! He's recognized he was being manipulated, I doubt many of the other such manipulated gryphons have been able to recognize that.

[Danger Noodle]

9626376
Me too. Hopefully, he'll become part of a lead force that destroys this worlds Discord.

[KMCA]

9626376
He's doing such a good job living up to his name though!

[Cedric Bale]

9633238
Only under DIscord's influence, ironically. Once he shook that off, he was not only confused about what he was doing, but also genuinely remorseful over hurting that pony. Following that, his thoughts turned to concern for the safety of his family; those two things spoke volumes of his true character, far more than his given name. Don't get me wrong, I'd be surprised if he didn't subscribe to the local common opinion that the ponies ought'a leave and take their witchcraft with them, but there's a HUGE difference between not liking some people and wanting to hurt those people. Meanwhile, I imagine Ripper would very much not appreciate some OTHER force (Discord in this case) using witchcraft to make him and his people do anything, let alone fight a war for it, even if he doesn't like ponies. I don't really know what he could do to help his people against a vague and nameless witchcraft he doesn't know the source of, but I hope he manages something, and I'm gonna' be rooting for him if he tries!

Also, for the record, I know you were probably joking, I just wanted to talk about him more since I realize I hardly said anything in my first comment.