Everything is Wrong

Conundrum
by
5007

Disclaimer: Hasbro owns the rights to "My Little Pony". "Friendship is Magic" was masterminded by Lauren Faust.

Chapter One: Everything is Wrong

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Pain and darkness. That was my world. I was in exquisite pain and I could not move. My joints, all of them, felt stiff. I probably needed to crack them, as was my morning ritual.

As I became more aware and the pain in my body started to subside, I winced as I realized the bright rays of the harsh sun shone directly into my eyes. I drove my face into the crook of my elbow to shield them, idly noting that my arm seemed hairier than normal.

I tried to remember what had happened the night before - as I am not in the habit of going to parties or drinking alcohol, I immediately suspected foul play. As I didn't seem to be restrained in any fashion, the credibility of such a theory immediately took a plunge.

Confident my eyes were better adjusted to the light, I picked my head up. Immediately, I knew something was wrong.

I was in the midst of a bunch of sandstone ruins, windswept and covered in sand as they were, I could tell they were quite foreign. While I never studied architecture, the pillars looked Greek or Roman to me, while the arches and buttresses looked distinctly Baroque. I could see faded paintings on the walls, but the ones near the entrance (from which the sun shone) were far too sun-bleached to be recognizable.

Imagine my shock when I looked down to see what I was sleeping on - an altar of some sort. The bigger shock was that the arm I had hidden my face in was not human, by any stretch of the imagination. It was covered in a dark brown fur, and ended not in a hand, but in a lion's paw.

Understandably, I freaked out and hyperventilated. Then everything went dark again.

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Again, I woke to pain, but instead of being all over my body, it was centered on my back and a couple of appendages I felt attached there. My arms were stuck in the air, and I could see they were both lion's paws. As I was somewhat expecting it, the shock didn't cause me to pass out again. Instead, I sighed in resignation. My mind must have been transferred to the body of a beast somehow. Though the paws looked odd to me.

I looked down my stomach to see more lion fur (a light tan unlike the rest of my body) as well as lion hind legs. My body ended in a lion's tail, which twitched. Using the knowledge I have of cats, I figured that my twitching tail was a sign of agitation and stress. Oddly enough, the tuft of hair at the end of the tail was shockingly white.

I looked to my right to see the altar I had been sleeping on. I was surprised to see that it had been made of solid, mirrored obsidian, the edges rounded to prevent serious injury, and the top of the altar was made from a soft limestone.

Around the base of the obsidian block I could see writing in a language that I did not recognize. But my brain only idly noticed this and was instead focused on a feathered wing growing out of my back, which like the tuft at the end of my tail, was bright white in color. The plumage had bluish accents. It was crammed in between the altar and myself and was a source of major discomfort. I turned my head to the left to see another wing fully splayed out across the floor. After a few attempts, I managed to fold it up against my side, allowing me to roll over and take my weight off of my back and wings.

I looked at the polished surface of the altar to see my face reflected in it. I still had my human face, complete with moustache and goatee, but I also had cat whiskers on my cheeks and all of my facial hair was pure white. When I opened my mouth to check my teeth, I noticed the elongated canines. I stuck out my tongue to see that it had stretched as well and was covered in rough hooks, like a cat. Encircling my face and neck was a glimmering white mane out of which poked two lion's ears.

All these clues led me to one conclusion - I was a sphinx. I sighed in frustration. Of all the mythical beasts I could have been turned into, why couldn't it have been my favorite: the dragon?

I would have loved to been transformed into a dragon, of any variety imagined. I had a sort of obsession with dragons ever since I was little. But a sphinx? I wasn't really that good at riddles. I had hoped I could remember the ones from Tolkien's The Hobbit if I ever needed any, but coming up with new riddles?

I bumped my head against the altar, killing at least eight brain cells.

"Ow," I muttered, noting that my voice was much deeper than when I was a human. I also realized that my throat was quite dry.

Ignoring the paintings on the walls of the ruins, I exited through the obviously east-facing door to behold a vast desert. Not a desert in the "sand-dune-covered" variety either.

The parched earth was littered with sparse, nigh-dead vegetation. I could see nothing but flatlands for miles around in every direction. Due to the almost white coloration of the dirt and dust, I concluded that the ground had a high salt content. To my right, the land took a more reddish hue, indicating high iron content. It was also slightly higher in elevation than the salt-blasted sands. To my left, I could see some form of dust storm obscuring the northern expanses. I watched it for several minutes - having lived in a desert back home for most of my life, experience had taught me how to guess where a storm was going.

After concluding that the storm was moving to the west, rather than towards my own position, I started walking clockwise around the structure I had awakened in. I rounded the corner of the building to see yet more ruins, in even worse shape than the building I had been in. Beyond them I could see a barren beach, the salt of the sea and that of the dust choking all life from the west.

Again, I turned east and squinted. My vision was much improved from when I was a human - I used to be nearsighted enough to require glasses - and I could just make out the form of a mesa in the distance. Having no other landmarks in sight, I headed to the east, making a brief stop to pick up a piece of sandstone rubble roughly the size of a pebble. I stuck the small object in my mouth and sucked on it to keep my throat from drying out.

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Have you ever tried to walk as a quadruped? Not only is the human body not structured for walking on all four limbs, but also the human brain is hard-wired to instinctually walk on two limbs.

After twenty-six years walking as a biped, suddenly finding oneself in a quadrupedal body is quite disorienting. Trying to walk on my hind legs put some strain on my lower back and on my neck, so I had to figure out how to walk on all four paws. I seemed to do better when I wasn't actively thinking about how I was supposed to pace my feet.

While somewhat dehydrated, I could tell my body was made for the desert. I didn't tire as easily as I remembered when I was human. Also, the heat didn't seem to bother me, despite being covered in fur.

I made progress at a good clip as I jogged, flapping my wings every now and then to try and figure how they worked. I figured that flying would be much faster, but I didn't know how to become airborne for more than ten seconds at a time, so I practiced.

I occasionally saw a small lizard or pack rat scurry for cover as I passed the sparse bushes, but the most exciting thing that happened on my way towards the mesa was a rattlesnake. It was a diamondback basking in the sun, but the coloration was much different than the western diamondback I was used to, and it was definitely not an eastern diamondback.

Keeping my distance, I examined it at several angles, even as it rattled its tail and hissed in warning. I knew there was something strange about the appearance of the reptile, but I couldn't put my finger on it. As I saw the sunlight reflect off of the snake's back, the realization hit me - it was literally a diamondback: the diamond-shaped pattern on its back was made of actual diamonds.

Shaking my head, I continued towards the mesa, leaving the diamondback alone.

I wonder if I am now in a world inspired by Lewis Carroll, I thought to myself. That would be pretty awesome if I am, but I still need to find a way back home.

I made it to the foot of the mesa by mid-afternoon, and I wasn't any more winded than if I had walked a couple of miles in my human form. Seeing some healthy vegetation at the top of the mesa convinced me that I had to climb up the side of the thing. One problem: I was afraid of heights. Despite the fact that I fly on a regular basis now, I still get nervous when I am more than a few feet off of the ground.

Still, I was thirsty and hungry, and so I had to see if I could find food and water on top of the mesa. I spent some time flexing my claws, noting that they seemed to be made from a silvery metal instead of the keratin I remembered cat claws being made of. I also took a look at how the side of the cliff appeared - it wasn't vertical, but more of a hundred-degree angle, still steep but not at right angles to the ground. It was also made of a semi-porous stone, almost as if the rock was igneous, or came from volcanic activity. I put my right paw against it and tried to drag it downward, happy to find that my claws caught into the holes of the stone. Pushing my paw upward allowed my claws to unhook from the stone.

I gulped in anticipation, accidentally swallowing the pebble I was keeping in my mouth. Shaking my head, I started to climb.

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As long as I didn't look down, I was fine with climbing up the side of the cliff. As I reached the top of the incline, I heaved myself over the edge and found myself next to some bushes and trees. I stretched my back and limbs, and was rewarded with another round of popping cracks. I walked further into the vegetation only to find out that it abruptly stopped and dropped into a bowl filled with water.

It was then that I realized the mesa I was standing on was actually the caldera of a dead volcano. Ringing the outside of the lake was lush vegetation. There was still some deadwood and fallen leaves strewn about the place, but it was legitimately habitable. I cautiously crept down the slope to the water's edge, wary of other predators. I watched the surface of the water, knowing that any movement of the dead logs in the water would mean that they were actually crocodilians.

Considering that I couldn't cup my hands to take a drink of the water, and I wanted to keep an eye out for potential enemies, I dipped my chin into the water, carefully, just far enough to be able to take a drink. The water was cold and my swollen throat opened up in contact with the liquid, very grateful for the refreshing taste. Once my thirst was slaked, I set about looking for food.

I found some nuts I might be able to eat, but they were all shaped weirdly or had odd coloring. They definitely weren't any kind I recognized. The berry bushes I found had green fruits, and I had no idea whether they were poisonous or not, so I left them alone.

Though as I looked up from one of the bushes, I found myself face-to-beak with a large, ugly bird. It simply looked at me curiously before turning away and eating a few nuts lying on the ground. I observed it for a bit and noticed that its stubby wings were obviously no good for flight. I did a double-take when I noticed that its head was hooded with a flapping layer of gray skin. It was a dodo!

Well, I definitely wasn't going to eat it now. Even if wherever I am they are not endangered, I'm not going to kill a supposedly extinct bird. Also, considering that it wasn't wearing a top hat and a waistcoat, my guess was that I wasn't exactly on the other side of the looking glass. Nor had I fallen down a rabbit's hole.

Shrugging, I turned back to the lake to see if there were perhaps fish within.

00000

Just as the sun had set, I had three carp skewered on sticks roasting over the fire I had built. The dodo had seen the fire and had fled, probably because it thought the forest was burning.

I looked at my versatile claws. Sure, they looked to be made of metal, and that was weird. But what was weirder was that my thumb claws were opposable. I could make a fist; I could touch each of my other digits with my thumb, etcetera. It was also remarkably easy to catch fish with my claws. I found that my index claw was quite useful for gutting and boning the fish, whereas my thumb claw made short work of scaling the things. And the strangest thing of all about my claws was that I could slide one across some flint and get sparks, which is how I started the fire. My best guess was that they were made of steel.

Next came the ultimate test. As a human, I hated fish and seafood as a general rule. I liked oysters, clams, and tilapia though. So the question became "am I cat-like enough that I'll like carp or not?"

The carp was good. The nuts tasted kind of like cashews and peanuts, actually. Though my belly was not full, I was no longer hungry; instead, I was sleepy. Burying my fire, I found a suitably large tree and climbed up it halfway to the first branch that would support my weight - despite still being afraid of heights, I didn't want to get attacked by any other sufficiently large animal while I slept.

I idly remembered the presence of the dodo and found that scenario unlikely - if there were large predators about, the bird would have been afraid of my presence and would not have walked right up to me. Still, human or sphinx, I was (and still am) somewhat paranoid and decided to err on the side of caution.

Getting to sleep was not easy. In fact, it still isn't. Regardless, I was worried about my wife. We had married just two and a half years prior, and I was suddenly not there. I supposed that she could move back in with her parents or something, but I had a responsibility to protect her and provide for her. I was also fretting about our cats, especially since my in-laws would refuse to take care of them. Jake was friendly enough with strangers that he wouldn't be a problem when given to anyone else. Our orange tabby Spot, on the other hand, was quite skittish and very attached to me. I had no idea how he'd take my disappearance. Eve, our youngest cat, was friendly enough with strangers, but she was absolutely attached to me - she always tried to keep me from leaving the apartment in any way possible, especially if I was going to work.

With nothing but my anxiety and fears to keep me company, I eventually fell asleep exhausted from the ordeal I'd been through since arriving in this place - I had spent most of the day traversing a salt-blasted wasteland, after all.

00000

I was listening to my brony music as I drove into the left turn lane. The light turned green and I pulled forward to prepare for any gaps there might have been when I idly looked to the left. There was a semi with the driver asleep at the wheel barreling towards me. I tried to pull forwards, but a vehicle from the oncoming traffic clipped the front bumper, slamming me backwards a bit. The last thing I saw was the grill of the semi.

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I awoke with a start, yelling as I fell out of the tree and onto the cold, hard ground. Although my left side was bruised, I could tell nothing was broken. In fact, I had sustained worse injuries as a kid when I fell out of the top bunk of a bunk bed.

"Ow," I muttered as I lay on the ground. I noticed that the sun was up and that it was mid-morning at the latest.

Suddenly, two pairs of bird legs blocked my view. I looked up to see two dodos looking at me curiously, almost as if they were concerned that I had hurt myself. I rolled onto my stomach and extended my right wing to brush it against the head of one of the flightless birds.

It squawked at the contact, but then butted its head against my primaries, obviously enjoying being petted. The other one chirped and shoved the first aside so it could experience the contact.

I chuckled at their antics. They reminded me of jealous kittens.

I spent much of the day exploring the circular forest that surrounded the lake, the two dodos following me like lovesick puppies. As I rounded the southern edge, three more dodos joined them. The newcomers were a lot shyer around me than the two who met me that morning, but they all enjoyed it when I petted them.

Soon, my stomach growled, voicing its displeasure at being ignored for so long. I started collecting the nuts I knew were safe to eat and put them in a pile near a large rock. Giving the five birds a quick pat on the head with my wing, I dove into the lake to go fishing.

Fishing as a sphinx was as easy as swiping my front paws at the fish with my claws extended. I soon had two carp stuck to my right paw, and one on my left. I emerged from the water to find my dodo friends collecting nuts and adding them to the pile. Shifting my fish so they were all on one paw, I walked forward, using my wings for balance, to find that the birds had been stockpiling only the kinds of nuts that I had put in the pile before. A smaller pile with the other types of nuts was building some distance away.

Chuckling, I set about gutting, boning, and scaling the fish. Task completed, I dug a new fire pit, clearing away all of the underbrush, dead leaves, and twigs from around it. I put a ring of large-ish stones around it and set about building the fire itself. Or rather, the fuel for it.

As I had been taught in Boy Scouts, I started with a log or two, spacing them out so that there was room for the fire to breathe, both between the logs and under them. Next came the tinder, thick, dry sticks that I built around the two logs into a double-tent formation. Finally, I stuffed leaves and twigs into the spaces remaining for kindling. Easily finding a piece of flint, I struck my thumb claw against it, sending a good amount of sparks into my pile of flammable material. I had to strike again for the sparks to catch. With some air from my lungs blown in, the flame became healthy enough that it would soon begin consuming the wood on its own.

Three sharp sticks stabbed through my dinner, and I prepared to have roasted carp.

Four of the dodos ran off, but the fifth one, which I assumed was the same one from the previous day, merely kept his distance. While still afraid of the fire, I think he was more in awe that I could start one that wouldn't burn the whole forest down. As my fish cooked, I noticed that he continued to collect nuts for the piles.

I was impressed by the amount of intelligence the birds were displaying and I wondered if the ones back home on Earth had been anywhere as intelligent before feral cats and dogs drove them to extinction.

Judging by what I knew of the positioning of the sun, my guess was that the time was about one in the afternoon, maybe two o'clock by the time my carp were done cooking. I ate quickly, hunger gnawing at my insides. I finished the meal off with a pawfull of the nuts the dodos had set out for me before I buried the fire with dirt and the stones ringing the fire pit. Ensuring that the fire couldn't spark back to life, I turned east to continue to explore the forested plateau. Eventually, all of the dodos were following me again by the time the sun had set.

The trees were smaller on the southeastern edge of the forest, meaning that I couldn't find a sufficiently robust tree to climb up, much less a branch that could support my weight. Instead, I made a nest of leaves and curled up with my hindquarters against a tree.

Despite my nervousness, I soon fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

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I awoke at daybreak to find six dodos huddled around me, all still slumbering. Despite all my worries, all my stress, I was content at that very moment, and so I allowed my wings to unfold and shelter the birds. Taking comfort in their proximity, I dozed off.

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I eventually needed to get up, and I did so being careful not to knock over any of my little friends, but not caring if they woke up. I was amused by the indignant squawks the birds made. I set about digging a temporary latrine and using it.

When I returned, the dodos were preening and cleaning their feathers. Seeing this, some of the feathers on my own wings started to itch.

Needless to say, I had no idea how to clean my feathers, especially since I did not have a beak. I tried using my claws, but I only ended up poking myself with the points. I growled, annoyed that I would have such a problem with my new body.
My attention was drawn to a weird chirping noise. I turned my head to see that one of the dodos had walked over to me, a look of concern on his face. Flapping his diminutive wings, he jumped up and pulled my own wing down with his beak. Several minutes of poking my wing with the tip of his prominent facial feature, I realized what he was trying to do, and made my feathers stand on end. He chirped again before beginning to clean my feathers.

I heard more chirps and turned my head to see that the other dodos had finished their own grooming and were waddling over to me to help me with mine.

If they hadn't wormed their way into my heart by this point, they were firmly planted into it now. If I could get home, I was going to try to take them with me.

I entertained pleasant thoughts of keeping these semi-sentient birds as pets when I returned to human form as they groomed my wings for me, much like my cats tended to groom me when cuddling with me.

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Using some large leaves from an unidentified plant I managed to wrap the pile of nuts the dodos had helped me make into a ball, which I then tied with a vine I found. Using more of the vine to make a necklace, I strode to the northeast, my posse of flightless birds in tow.

By the mid-afternoon I could finally see the landscape beyond the caldera; it was mostly barren, brown earth with patches of nigh-dead grasses. To the north were a number of smaller hills that appeared to be made of some form of black rock. The south was a mirror of the north, showing that the desert I had awakened in was separated from the desert displayed before me. The wind was blowing to the northwest and I could see a dust cloud moving before my eyes. It was moving southward.

Wait? What?

I squinted to see that the cause of the dust cloud was a large group of animals running across the moisture-choked landscape. I really wanted to see the cause of such a disturbance, maybe see if it was a type of creature I recognized.
They seemed to be getting closer as well, though they had not changed direction.

As soon as my mind registered that illogical event, I realized I was gliding on my extended wings towards the path that the group would charge past. Panicking, I flapped my wings a couple of times without thinking about it and I gained altitude. That experience brought upon me a sudden, lucid calm.

I was not "falling to my death"; I was flying. I was in control. I did not need to fear the ground for the air was my ally!

And then I made the mistake of looking straight down. Suddenly, the ground very much wanted to be my friend and my muscles, which had locked up, wanted to make friends with the ground.

I hate being afraid of heights.

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I awoke some time later in pain. My left arm hurt a lot, but I seemed to be whole. I looked around, finding myself in a tent of some kind, a splint tied around my left forearm, which was wrapped in bandages. I was lying on a pile of blankets near a small, smoldering fire pit. Several bowls of strange-smelling substances were placed not far away from me. Closer inspection of the fire revealed that wood hadn't been the only thing consumed by the flames. It seemed that someone had burned incense as some form of aromatherapy for me.

"Odd," I said to myself.

Sudden movement caught my eye and the flap of the tent closed right as I looked at it.

I snorted softly to myself, assuming that the person who helped me was a bit shy. I rolled my eyes and waited to see if said person would enter soon. Imagine my surprise when an entire buffalo face pushed the tent flap aside.

A pair of short horns topped his impressive forehead, behind which was a feathered headdress. His stern eyes made contact with mine and I dared not look away. He entered slowly, his muzzle twisted into a scowl. He stopped moving scant inches from my face, daring me to flinch.

A primal emotion kicked in: pride. I stared back at him, gingerly standing on all fours (though I didn't put much weight on my injured arm). I arched my back and spread my wings, making myself appear as large as possible.

I was easily as big as he was but neither of us backed down. My mind was idly worried that I perhaps had taken on a challenge that was too much for me.

Nervousness began to creep into my consciousness but I refused to show weakness to this massive animal.

With no plan and no hope, I have no idea why I ever thought what I did next would work, but the fact is that it did.

I crossed my eyes, contorted my thin mouth into an egg shape, allowed my tongue to loll out of my mouth, and made a silly noise.

"Blergarhergarherg!"

My hope that the bison that was literally in my face was sentient was confirmed when he started chuckling. He sat back on his haunches, allowing me some breathing room. His face was relaxed, showing mirth with his smiling mouth.

"Welcome, stranger," he greeted in a voice deeper than mine. His manner of speech was methodical and slow. "I am Chief Thunderhooves, and I lead this buffalo tribe."

I simply stared at him, dumbfounded.

Thunderhooves? I thought he looked familiar! And then it hit me like a train. Wait. I'M IN THE WORLD OF FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC! THIS IS EQUESTRIA!

"Do you not speak my language?" Thunderhooves continued, arching an eyebrow a significant distance up his forehead. He then said something in a more chirping and clicking language that I did not understand at all.

I shook my head.

"I apologize," I said in what I thought was English, visibly surprising the bison chief. "It simply took me a while to process what you said before."

In truth, it did, but only because I was thinking about what his very name implied, not because it was difficult to understand.
"And no, I have no idea how to speak that other language you used."

He nodded. "I see. It's a good thing you speak Equestrian, and not High Griffon. Those selfish buzzards have been causing trouble for my people lately. It would not be good for you to speak their language around my tribe."

I grunted before replying. "Blame by association. I understand. Please excuse me for one moment."

I slowly extended my wings, eliciting pops from the joints. I then cracked my neck by slamming my head from side to side and I dipped my back to get the kinks out of my spine. I also individually bent my fingers into weird positions to pop them. The ones on my left hand got some twinges of pain from my hurt leg, but nothing I couldn't handle.

"Thank you," I said as I lounged on the blankets as only a cat can lounge. "That feels much better."

Thunderhooves chuckled. "You crack your joints like an old cow with rheumatism."

I rolled my eyes, smiling at his joke.

"Onto business though," he continued. "Why did you come here? You seemed to have come from the Green Mesa in the west."

I paused, deliberating on whether or not to tell him that it was actually a caldera with a forest and a lake on top before I decided that correcting him might be rude.

"I actually come from that mesa. But that doesn't matter." I shook my head. "No, I flew down to figure out who was stampeding by my home."

Thunderhooves nodded. "And why did you fall like a stone from the sky?"

There was no getting around this question without more awkward questions, but I figured I could get his sympathy if I played my cards right.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Yes."

"Something confidential?"

"I suppose."

"As one warrior to another?" I really hoped he would think I was actually a warrior and wouldn't catch my lie.

The chief sat there for a long moment before he replied.

"You have my word that I will not utter it to another soul for as long as I live."

I smiled before adopting a somber expression.

"The truth is... I'mAfraidOfHeights," I finished in a rush, drawing a confused look from the buffalo.

"That is strange, for a creature that can fly," he admitted.

"Yes, I made the mistake of looking down," I said lamely.

"You are almost as confusing as a pegasus I once met," Thunderhooves said after a short pause. "She was also afraid of heights but was not embarrassed to be so."

I instantly realized he was talking about Fluttershy, my wife's favorite character, but I didn't want to admit that I knew her name. Especially since I never actually met the mare in question, though I might have the chance to.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the lay of the land here," I admitted. "I know I'm in Equestria, but I don't know where."

"Unfortunately, I can't give you the exact location. I know that my tribe's stampeding grounds are between Dodge Junction and the Green Mesa. We were just on our way south to visit Appleloosa to trade for their delicious apple pies when you literally dropped in on us."

"Ah."

"My daughter was confused when she saw you drop from the sky. Many of us were convinced that you were a griffon and wanted to exact a measure of revenge on you but she insisted on scouting you out instead of outright trampling you."

I blanched. He nodded.

"Ever since an incident which occurred last year I have been following her advice more often than not. She is usually right, much like her mother was. When she and her friends returned, they informed me that you weren't a griffon, but some other type of creature. Speaking of which, what are you?"

"Before I answer that, thank you for not stampeding me to death and remind me to thank your daughter."

He snorted in understanding and gestured with his hoof for me to continue.

"As for what I am: I'm a sphinx."

His jaw dropped and hung slack from his face for several confusing minutes. I had no idea why he was reacting this way, and whether or not it was a bad thing that he was. I instinctively tried to make myself as small as possible, flattening my ears against my head. In fact, I was freaking out so badly that my tail tucked itself between my legs.

Eventually, he blinked, shutting his mouth with an audible click.

"I had no idea any sphinxes were still alive. My ancestors tried to remain neutral in the war over a thousand years ago between the Equestrians and the sphinxes of At'hepmo Tov. They lived on an island to the west. I heard it from my father, who heard it from his father, who heard it from his-"

I raised a paw above my head - a holdover from my days in school - and interrupted him. "I get the idea."

He blinked. "Right. The story goes that the Princesses of Equestria tilted the island, dumping the Tovians' farmland and hunting grounds into the sea. The sea between the lands of my ancestors - this land - and the island of At'hepmo Tov dried up and a barrier of mountains was formed. I'm not sure of the accuracy of the story, but it is said that the Princesses ordered all sphinxes who left the doomed island to be shot out of the sky."

I whistled. "I had no idea of the history of the place." Nervous, not because I feared for my life from Thunderhooves but because the great alicorn sisters might be after my head, I began babbling. "I mean, I was minding my own business in my own city when BAM!" I punctuated the sound effect by slapping my right paw against the ground. "I suddenly wake up in a strange temple. I then cross the salt flats, climb that 'Green Mesa' which is not a mesa at all but the caldera to a dead volcano and find much of what I would ever need up there: food, water, and dodos."

Thunderhooves cocked his head in confusion, obviously knowing nothing about the birds of which I spoke. I continued rambling, ignoring everything going on around me.

"Then I do some exploration and I see your tribe running across the desert on the other side of the caldera and now I find out that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna want to kill me for no reason other than the fact that I'm alive!"

The chief blinked as he watched me start gripping my mane with both paws. He let me freak out for a short bit, but then he stomped his hoof near my face, a small electric bolt coming off of it.

That certainly got my attention. I had no idea that the buffalo of Equestria had any innate magic of their own. Still, I looked up to see Thunderhooves looking at me with a protective, fatherly visage.

"While I doubt that the Sisters will be prejudiced against you, if they are, you have the protection of my tribe. And another thi-"

He never got the chance to complete his sentence as another buffalo stuck his head into the tent.

"Chief!" he exclaimed, his younger face showing panic. "A griffon raiding party is attacking! They've already hit Little Strongheart!"

"WHAT!?" Thunderhooves roared, quickly turning about and charging out of the tent.

Griffons attacking the buffalo? I thought, perplexed. I wonder why they would do that. My train of thought halted for a split-second. Little Strongheart is hurt!?

While my higher brain functions were still processing, a feeling of overwhelming rage began to course through me. Despite the injury to my arm, I rushed outside into chaos.

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Buffalo were rushing everywhere, trying to protect key points of their temporary village. I could see that a good number of the warriors were bodily shielding the calves from any attacks from above. Speaking of which, I saw a griffon drop from the sky onto one of the warriors and slash him with his eagle claws. Before the bison could counter in any way, the griffon had launched himself back into the sky, cackling in perverse glee.

I looked skyward to see a grand total of four griffons - three male and one much smaller female - hovering, including the one who had just attacked. One of the males was yelling at the female about something or other, but she seemed to be quivering in fear. I squinted. I could see that all three males had blood on their claws, but the female's appendages were pristine. Additionally, she had a swollen eye. Her lion parts were brown, just like the rest of them, but her feathers were black, whereas the male who was yelling at her had red feathers. The other two had white, but nowhere near as pure white as my own.

Luckily, they had not noticed me yet, but they were going to. My rage had nearly overridden my logic, and I could see a glow slowly forming around the edges of my peripheral vision, but that did not matter to me. I glared at Red and I could feel a pull, and I allowed myself to slide. There was a brief flicker of light and I was suddenly directly behind Red. Black's eyes widened in surprise, even as I heard Red growl "What!?"

Instinctively, I knew exactly what to do. I wrapped my arms around his torso, trapping his arms against him as I interlocked my fingers. I heaved backwards as I locked my legs around his, pushing with my wings to flip us upside down. As we began to fall, I used my wings to trap his much smaller wings against our sides. His head was much closer to the ground than mine, and he squirmed, trying to break free of my grip. We began to spiral downwards and I screamed the only thing I thought was appropriate in such a situation.

"PRIMARY LOTUS!"

As we hit the ground, I felt his neck snap under our combined weight. I emerged from the dust cloud seconds later, marveling at how I didn't fear falling for that brief moment. I also wondered why I didn't quite care that I had just killed another intelligent creature.

"YOU SON OF A MARE!" roared the white griffon who had tried to attack the calves. He drew a sword from a scabbard on his hip. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

I was going to pay attention to him, but the other white one caught my eye - he had a piece of flesh in his beak that had fur still attached to it. Fur that was the same shade of brown that I remembered Little Strongheart being from the show. Caring not for the griffon who was diving towards me, I focused and slid, teleporting right next to the dumbfounded griffon who was munching on a piece of the cow who had saved my life.

I extended my claws and gripped his left wing in two different places. Flapping my own wings, I brought my right thigh up and broke his wing with a satisfying snap. He screamed in pain, dropping the piece of meat from his beak. I snapped a left kick at his temple, rendering him unconscious. I dropped him, watching him fall to where he'd be at the mercy of the dozens of angry buffalo below.

Hearing another scream of anger, I refocused my attention on the sword-wielding griffon who was trying to charge me in mid-air. As he ascended, I extended my claws as far as they would go, idly noting that they actually stretched to the length of my fingers - obviously, I had magic claws made of steel.

Ignoring the pain in my left arm, I deflected his overhead sword stroke with my left paw, ensuring that the blade got caught on my claws. It was only through the rage and the adrenaline rushing through my body that I was able to ignore the bone cracking. With my right paw, I stabbed my long claws right into his throat, feeling my middle and ring fingers scrape bone. He choked for a bit before his muscles went limp. I caught the sword by its hilt as he dropped it, my claws retracted from my left paw, spasms of pain making the catch difficult. I kicked at his dying body to free my right paw and allowed him to fall. I was certain he was dead before he hit the ground, but three warrior buffalo trampled his body into an unrecognizable mess when his corpse did hit the ground.

I turned my gaze to the black griffon to notice a look of absolute fear on her face. I pointed downwards with my right paw.

"Land. Now," I commanded.

I kept pace with her as she slowly flapped her way downwards, partially so I could catch her if she fled, and partially so I wouldn't have to look at the ground as I descended. My fear of heights was beginning to kick in now that the rage and adrenaline were gone. Additionally, I felt like I might pass out from the pain in my arm, but I powered through it as I gripped the sword with my right, freeing my left of all burden.

We landed in a ring of buffalo, many of them glaring at her when they weren't giving me looks of approval and gratitude. However, I focused on the blade itself as I sat on my haunches. From the feel of it, it was improperly balanced - quite blade-heavy as if the blacksmith had intended to make an axe instead of a sword but changed his mind halfway through the forging process.

The blade was clean and unblemished by rust or bloodstains and the leather of the hilt was still rough, signaling that the weapon was relatively new and unused. Still, it was longer than my claws were and would give me another cubit of reach if I ever found myself in another fight. Which I had a sneaking suspicion that I would.

"Hey," I addressed a bison to my left. "Could someone get me the scabbard to this?"

She nodded and backed out of the circle to go and retrieve it from the corpse of the swordsgriffon.
I turned to look at the female griffon, who visibly wilted under my gaze. I sighed, not sure what to do. So I began asking questions.

"Did she attack any of your people?" I inquired.

"No," one of the buffalo behind me said instantly. I gestured at her with the hilt of the sword.

"Did you intend to attack any of the buffalo?"

"No," she squeaked in fear.

"Why were you here?"

"Rubid told me I had to come to become a true griffon," she babbled, on the verge of tears. "I didn't want to, but then Daddy punched me and told me to go. Told me not to come back until I had killed something."

She sniffled.

"Who is Rubid?" I asked.

"He was the red one," she replied. "The one you attacked first."

"Are we going to listen to her sob story or are we going to kill her?" asked a buffalo who had walked next to my right. His question made the griffon begin to cry silently.

I was angry at this particular buffalo now, but I nonchalantly put my right wing around his neck and leaned on him.

"I bet you were one of the guys who wanted to trample me when I accidentally fell from the sky, huh?"

"Well..." he said, obviously embarrassed.

Growling, I hit him in the forehead with the pommel of the sword.

BONK!

"Gah!"

"Get back in line or I'll use the other end," I threatened as I shoved against his shoulder with my wing.

As he backed off, I could see Thunderhooves walking forward from the right, his daughter on his back. She was thankfully conscious and had a large, blood-soaked bandage on her left flank. The ranks of warriors parted to allow their chief and princess through.

Thunderhooves turned his steely gaze towards the griffon, causing her to whimper, before he turned to me.

"My daughter informs me that this black griffon did not do any attacking when the other three pounced," he said. "What is your intention?"

I brought my right wing up and stroked my chin as I spoke, the feel of my feathers tickling my goatee helping me think.

"I don't wish to kill her as I have done enough of that today," I stated, earning the murmuring of a number of the warriors around me. I glared to my left and yelled. "SHUT UP!"

"Indeed," Thunderhooves agreed. "You must be silent and listen to what the last of the sphinxes says." He turned to me as the herd of buffalo gave a collective gasp. "I do not think it is right to kill her as she did not attack anyone here. But she can't stay either."

"No, I can see that," I said, returning my attention to the chief. "But she definitely can't return home. They'll probably kill her for letting me get away with killing three of their truth." I blinked. I suddenly felt nauseous as I realized that I had killed three other people. Luckily, Little Strongheart distracted me with a question of her own.

"Couldn't we drop her off at Appleloosa? That way she won't have to stay for long."

"An excellent idea, Daughter," Thunderhooves agreed. "You'll become the wisest leader our tribe has had yet!"

"How can we be sure she won't attack us?" asked one of the bison warriors. I recognized his voice as that of the one whom I had conked on the head.

I brought my paw further up my face so I could rub my temples. That particular buffalo was going to be annoying, of that I was certain.

"Mister sphinx?" a quiet voice addressed me. I turned to see the female buffalo warrior who had gone to retrieve the scabbard to the sword. "I brought the sheath."

The scabbard in question was made of metal and was painted black. It was completely unremarkable other than a symbol on one side, probably to mark it as belonging to the owner.

"Thank you," I muttered, sticking the hilt in my mouth. I then grabbed the sheath and slid the sword into it. I then set the weapon down in front of me.

I sighed, noting that the buffalo were arguing amongst themselves about how they were going to ensure that the griffon wouldn't attack anyone. Thunderhooves was glaring at his people, obviously annoyed that they could not get past their own prejudice. Little Strongheart was rubbing the sides of her head, probably dealing with a migraine - I knew my own brain was threatening to give me one.

I needed a way to harmlessly "shackle" the griffon without removing her ability to get away if one of the bison decided to attack her.

I noticed a glow beginning to form around my vision again, and I used a paw to get a better look at my mane. Sure enough, my hair was pulsating with an ethereal light; I deduced that the mane was the focal point of a sphinx's power. I allowed instinct to guide my actions. I felt a pressure in my mind, and I pulled at it before pushing it towards the griffon. There was a brighter flash of light than when I had slid, and she gasped in surprise.

The buffalo had turned silent as I opened my eyes to view my handiwork. While most of her feathers remained black, she now had a white stripe going from the top of her beak and between her eyes. The stripe of white continued up her head and headed down the back of her neck. Where her feathers stopped, so did the stripe. Additionally, the brown tuft on the end of her tail had turned white.

I could also feel the presence of her mind within mine - not that she could read my thoughts or I hers, but that I could send thoughts at her.

I turned my attention to Thunderhooves as he addressed me.

"What did you do to her, my friend?"

"I marked her as mine," I replied after a moment, choosing my words carefully but using instinct to guide me to the proper conclusions of what I had done (as the instincts of my new body had not yet failed me). "She cannot attack anyone unless I allow it. And any who attack her will receive double the injury inflicted upon her from my magic."

Thunderhooves grunted. "I have never heard of sphinx magic being capable of such a feat, but surely the lore surrounding your people has been lost over the centuries."

I nodded before turning to the griffon. "What is your name?"

"Nixah," she replied, meek as a mouse. "Nixah Blackwing."

What I said next was in complete seriousness, but was done after several seconds of intense thought. "We can now consider the entity known as Nixah Blackwing to be dead. She is now reborn as Nixah Whitemane. Nixah? You are now a servant of the House of Whitemane."

I felt pompous and pretentious after saying such a silly thing, but it seemed appropriate to me. Back when I was human, I had a card for the game Magic: the Gathering that was called Whitemane Lion.

"Ah," Thunderhooves muttered. "Your name is Whitemane, is it?"

That didn't seem right to me though. "Whitemane" seemed more of a family name to me than a given name. Thankfully, I was reminded of another card: Conundrum Sphinx. It felt oddly appropriate to me.

"Actually, it's Conundrum," I stated. "Conundrum Whitemane."

Thunderhooves gave me an expression that let me know that he thought my name was false. I had a feeling we'd be talking about it later.

"Mr. Whitemane?" Little Strongheart began before I stopped her.

"Please call me Conundrum. Or just 'Drum' if you wish."

She nodded. "Very well, 'Drum'." She smirked before she became serious again. "Did you aggravate the injury on your arm? The hard crash you suffered yesterday cracked the bone."

I paid attention to my arm again and a wave of pain overwhelmed my conscious mind.

"ARGH! DAMMIT!" I screamed, falling onto my side as I cradled my left arm against my chest. My sudden and quite delayed reaction caused most of the buffalo to look at me strangely, but I didn't care. I howled in pain until my voice was hoarse. Then I spoke again.

"In hindsight," I gasped, "I probably should have blocked with my right paw instead of my left."

"Damn straight!" declared an aged female voice. A bison cow pushed her way through the crowd. She was much skinnier than the average female warrior buffalo (much like Little Strongheart) and had a red cross painted on her forehead. I could tell that she was old even from my point of view on the ground by her grizzled appearance.

"Conundrum," Thunderhooves began. "Meet the shaman of our tribe: my aunt Weedpowder. Little Strongheart, my daughter, is apprenticing under her."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if that would make Little Strongheart the first shaman/chief his tribe had experienced in their long history.

Why am I even wondering about this now?

Weedpowder then distracted me from my musings.

"You damn idiots need to learn how to fight properly," grumbled the old cow. "I can't keep patching all you damn warriors up after every damned battle. If I did, there'd be more damn bandages than damn buffalo in this damn herd!"

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Weedpowder had shoved a stick into my mouth to bite down on as she set the bones in my arm. Nixah was huddled in another part of the tent I was borrowing. As the old cow finished splinting my arm and wrapping it in even more bandages, I spat the stick out.

"Yuck. That twig had a nasty flavor."

Weedpowder then smacked me upside my head before she tucked my arm into a sling.

"Ow!"

She then turned to Nixah. "From what I understand about what this damned idiot did to you, you are now his damn servant. That said, make sure he damn well doesn't walk on his damn injured arm."

Weedpowder marched out of the tent after giving me a final glare just to tell me how stupid I was.

"I can guess what her favorite word is," I stated, trying to get Nixah to smile.

I figured it must be hard on the poor girl, to receive threats of violence from her family and then watch some of the people she grew up with be killed and finally get press-ganged into servitude for a creature she never knew existed. Despite my jokes, she managed to remain depressed.

"Nixah?" I addressed her, my voice pleading. "Please look at me."

She seemed surprised at the fact I said "please" and she did pick her head up. I could see a great deal of fear in her eyes, and it was heart-wrenching to see.

"Please don't be afraid of me," I asked. "I did what I did to protect you from their prejudice." I sighed, realizing that I wasn't getting through to her, not really. "Look, if you really want to return to your truth, you are free to go."

She shook her head.

"Would you rather live among ponies? While hesitant to accept those outside of their species, they'll warm up to your presence quickly."

Again, she shook her head.

"Well then. What do you want to do?"

Nixah looked at me for a long time before she responded.

"I d-don't know," she stuttered. "I just w-wish my m-mom was still... still-"

"Shhhh," I shushed. "I understand. I really do. I had a sister once."

Nixah nodded, sniffling a bit. She laid her head down on her forearms. She could still look at me, but I could tell it was an acceptance of her fate. After a moment, I began talking again.

"Are you angry at me?"

"No."

"You should be."

She picked her head up and gave me a strange look, like I was crazy.

"I just made it so you could never return home, not that your truth was a good place for you it seems."

Nixah shrugged.

"Speaking of which," I added, "could you please pass me that empty bowl? No, the large one. Thank you."

I then proceeded to puke my guts out into it. Judging by her surprised face, she did not expect anything of the sort from me.

"A-are you okay!?" she stammered.

"No," I replied hoarsely, my throat coated with bile. "I just murdered three intelligent beings, even if it was in defense of children." I coughed. "What's worse is that I did it while enraged and that scares me." I pushed the bowl to the side and laid my head down on my right arm. "I used to be in better control of my emotions."

She stared at me, curious as to this side of me.

"Did you know that I've never intentionally killed anything that was larger than a fish before today?"

She shook her head, surprised. "B-but, y-you fought so w-well."

I shrugged my wings, wary of jostling my left arm. "My ancestors were good at fighting. A good number of them wore the skins of bears into battle to try and channel the anger and power of the bear's spirit. Because they wore 'bear-shirts', they were called 'berserkers' and could put themselves in a trance-like state that was full of rage and hatred. In that berserk state, they were nearly unstoppable in battle and attacked without a care for their own safety, though very few of them actually fell in battle."

Her jaw had gone slack, surprised that such a people existed. I chuckled darkly, causing her to close her mouth.

"I'm normally very proud of my heritage, but it has caused me to be damned to-" I wanted to say "Hell" but I didn't think that they had such a place in this world, but I remembered something they did have. "- Tartarus."

Nixah was definitely confused now. "Why would you be c-cursed to go t-there?"

"All life is sacred," I stated, grim as the grave. "Sentient life is even more so and I ended three such lives today."

I covered my head with my wings to hide my tears. I despaired. Even if I were to make it home, would my wife still want to be with me? I doubted she'd want to be with a murderer.

My nightmares that night were of fire, torment, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth.

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End Chapter One.
Next chapter: the road to Appleloosa.

Author's Notes

This particular story wouldn't GET OUT OF MY HEAD! My brain kept returning to it, even though I kept trying to plot out one of the other stories I'm working on. Regardless, the first chapter is done and is posted exclusively to FiMFiction (as FanFiction doesn't like it when an OC is the main character).

I must thank Dumbledork for wading through this muck to make it presentable. I send him my apologies because this was the one time he hasn't enjoyed proofreading my work.

Anyway, the idea came about as I was reading "The Ballad of Echo the Diamond Dog". But my brain had applied a twist to it: most bronies would want to stay in the world of MLP, but what if one didn't? What if he tried his best to get back to his bronette? Then I tried to kill the idea with fire. Didn't work.

By the way, Conundrum's human heritage is descended from Vikings, if you couldn't tell.

And yes, the dodos are relevant. They give Conundrum another weakness that his enemies will be able to exploit.

A group of griffons is called a truth, much like a group of dragons is called a flight.

Anyway, thoughts? Critiques? Flames? Praises? Bring 'em on! (Especially the flames - this plotbunny seems to be fireproof. Maybe we should test that theory with a nuke?)

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Sandman

Sandman #1 · Nov 16th, 2012 · · ·

Not joining the glorious Griffin Empire, in favor of the beastly Buffalo Tribes.
4.bp.blogspot.com/-lNVAGrPs7uU/TcfLSheAMcI/AAAAAAAALgk/oeV37byMGjI/s1600/HeresyStamp.png

SpikeDark

SpikeDark #2 · Nov 16th, 2012 · · ·

i think you may have struck oil
o and i love the story

Danger Beans

Danger Beans #3 · Nov 17th, 2012 · · ·

Huh a Sphinx? Definitely not a species I've considered in equestria before, so props for that if nothing else, look forward to seeing where this goes.
Colour me interested.

BronzeFog

BronzeFog #4 · Nov 17th, 2012 · · ·

MOAR

xbox432

xbox432 #5 · Nov 17th, 2012 · · ·

Good job with this one, I was pulled into the story with the very first paragraph. And here's hoping that he creates an unstoppable army of dodo's to bring about the end of the RPS (Royal Pany Sisters) for the genocide of an entire species.s1107.beta.photobucket.com/user/xbox432/media/MLP/Pinkieapprovedstamp.png.html?sort=3&o=6

EDIT: Does anyone know why my images on photo bucket suddenly refuse to load?

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