> The Hero of Westmarch > by Ebony Gryphon > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Chapter One > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hate this. This pretentious crap - talking about my life. But Twilight says people want to hear my story… you know what? You don’t want to hear my story. Its like a demons tongue: long, bloody, and you don’t want to be anywhere near it. But I will tell you one thing boys and girls, fillies and colts… all that talk about wars being noble? It's shit. War is nothing more than a never-ending parade of misery, and every person killed in battle is a tragedy no matter who holds their strings. Don’t you let anyone tell you different. But, sometimes, you get that special case… those savages who you feel not a twinge of regret killing… Yeah, I’ve had a few of those. -Excerpt from the personal journal of Scourge(1). The Westmarch burned. Day and night, humans and pegasi assaulted the lands of the gryphons. The magi, their restraints gone, devastated both the holds and eyries. From their hands, cold breezes froze pegasi wings in mid-air, sending their owners crashing to the ground. Fire scorched armor, melting it to their skin. Lightning flew from clouds, unicorn horns, and magi hands and tore through the villages. And as the pushed forward, breaking the gryphons lines, screams of pain came from their fallen comrades - grown stallions cried out for their dams and humans prayed to be forgiven for all they had done. It was war. Under the diarch's order, the empire of the gryphons was coming to an end. Within little more then a month, their numbers had been whittled to barely enough to hold their lines. The only thing left to do was retreat, surrender, or take one last trip into their various guilty pleasures. And within one hold, they had raised this art to a sickening level. The keep of Gredstadt. Gredstat - so named for the ancient gryphonian gate to the underworld - had, in his twenty-two winters alive, done all he could to live up to his title. He was ruthless, sadistic, and - worst of all - intelligent. Under both his leadership and direct orders, refugees and prisoners of war were slaughtered. They were the lucky ones. For a few of the more attractive mares, much worse awaited them. Chains, whips, and other tools of torture graced the inner walls of his chambers, hidden behind the main rooms of his home with its rugs and trappings of nobility. Behind these walls, a few feet from freedom, the victims of Gredstat's pleasures screamed, then slowly feel silent as the gryphon's grunts of ecstasy filled the darkened halls. He was a madman, and Storm Kicker had fallen into his claws. From her place at the wall, she watched as it began again. Her commander - a stallion named Aries - lay in a bloody heap on the chamber floor, his wings bent and twisted, blood pooling under him from the sharp end of a broken wing jutted out from its home. Slowly, his tormentor began to circle him. The gryphons talons clicked against the floor as he walked, his black tipped tail lazily swishing behind him. Aside from the end of his tail and tips of his ears, he was covered in light gray fur and plumage, his neck dotted with black spots up his neck, his eyes a lovely shade of hazel. His wings were armed with Aries' wing blades, which he examined closely in the lights of the inner vaults, turning them back and forth and testing their weight. “My my…” Gredstat purred. A soft smile crossing his beak, though the gesture may have meant nothing, since it did not reach his eyes. Swinging the blades once and then again, he clicked his tongue in his beak. “I must commend you Aries…” Leaning the wing down, he lifted the stallion's head up, the tip of the blade under Aries' chin. Tilting the commander's head to the left and right slightly, the gryphon cooed. “Its so rare to see one of your kind so diligent in the care of their weapons.” With a sneer, the stallion suddenly spat blood into the gryphon's eye, hissing in pain as the blade nicked the underside of his chin. Wiping the spittle from his eyes, Gredstat growled a moment in fury, then clearing his throat, let another small smile run across his beak. “Charming,” he muttered Curling his foreclaw into a fist, he slammed it into the side of Aries’ head, sending the stallion skidding. As the beating commenced, the keeps windows shook in their frames as thunder rolled, the storm outside playing out its course. ……………………………………………………………………… Rain. Usually, Scourge loved the rain. He loved the feeling as the cool water splashed on his face and hands and he loved the smell of the trees and grass after a good storm. But, as he hunkered down among the grass of the keep, covered in a dark green cloak and watching the movements of two guards, he could only think one thing. Hate the rain. Hate it, hate it, hate…. He paused in his mental whining, his eyes narrowing as one of the armored gryphons nodded, then unlocked the keeps main door. The other gryphon turned, still speaking, offering Scourge an opening. Leather armor dyed dark grey to match the surrounding he was in, the human rushed up. Wings flared as his ears twitched, the gryphon turned towards the sound of steps, his eyes widening… Beak opening to let out a cry, the male jerked back onto his hind legs, foreclaws held tight to his body. Fingers wrapping around the beasts beak to silence him, Scourge drew his dagger, and with one swift upwards motion, pushed the blade into the gryphons ribs. Eyes bulging and giving a muffled cry, the last feeling the gryphon knew was the sudden lance of pain in his side as a knife ripped through, and as his piss spurted from his sheath to drop into the ground, the male convulsed slightly as the weapon tore into his heart. Jerking the weapon slightly to the left, then the right, Scourge kept the weapon in as he yanked the gryphon to the right and hid the corpse among the shrubbery. Scaling the wall next to the door, he crouched on the wooden plank jutting out from the wall above the double doors of the keep, the lantern under it swaying slightly in the wind. Willing his heart into an even pace, he waited. In moments that felt like hours, he heard another guard approach. His muscles tensing, Scourge's eyes followed the target as he walked back out. A little more… Looking around, the gryphon stepped forward nervously. Scourge stood slowly and walked to the end of the beam… Foreclaws making nervous divets in the dirt, the gryphon whimpered, taking a couple more steps… Now! Lightning flashed, exposing the human for a moment, and as it faded, Scourge leaped down. Pinning the gryphon under a knee, Scourge’s arm blurred as it fell back to the handle of his tanto. The gryphon fruitlessly pawed at the ground as the sound of a drawn blade filled his ears. Before he could scream, the blade curved down, slicing through the males head and down through, pining the male to the ground. Inside the wound, electricity arced, frying synapses and causing the body of his prey to clench. The gryphon's eyes rolled into the back of his head as the magically induced power fried his brain, its paralyzing effect stopping any cries of alarm. Leaving the shortened blade in his enemies skull, Scourge grabbed the gryphons hind legs, and dragged him over to his fellow. Dusting of his hands, and drawing the blade strapped across his back, his other hand working the throwing blades at his side, making sure they were ready and could be easily drawn, he moved silently through the door. Outside, the sound of the storm became a din of noise, the swaying lantern causing odd shapes in the shadows it made. Only a minute had passed. ………………………………………………………………. Storm lay gasping on the floor, her entire body aching from her time in this hell. Ribs jutting out from her sides from the lack of food, she smacked her lips, gaze flicking across the ground, her eyes widening as they locked with the jug that the gryphon had left before leaving. Crawling forward, her wings strapped down with a strap going around her barrel, her tongue darted across her lips. Suddenly, her body stilled, and with tears now streaming down her cheeks, she looked over her shoulder. Around her neck, Gredstat had put an iron collar, and attached her to the wall with a chain. Looking forward again, Storm Kicker stamped a hoof to the ground and sobbed. The bucker had left a jug full of water right in front of her while she was passed out. But this all paled to what she’d had been going through the last few days… teeth clenched, her hoof rose and slapped the ground again, her hoof aching now from the blow. No, she screamed in her own mind. You’re a Kicker damn it! You think you’re the first to give her all for Equestria, the first mare to go through that? Smiling grimly, she regarded the corpse of her commander, his head now smashed to a pulp from Gredstat grabbing it to slam it into the stone floor again and again. “I did…” Storm whispered, then winced as her throat lanced with pain, the inner lining of her throat strained from lack of water. How long had it been since she’d had a drink? Weakly, the mare shook her head. “I… I did mom and dad proud, didn’t I sir…?” Suddenly, Storm Kicker jerked awake at the touch at her side. Must have passed out again... she thought. Turning her head, her eyes widening as her breath quickened, Storm whimpered as the human knelt down next to her. Her body too weak to offer any protest, she could only shiver as the human's palm pressed to her side, the claws of Gredstat having left their mark. “Let all that grace has given me, let it pass to you…” the human said softly, and, eyes flickering, Storm Kicker laid her head back down. Slowly, warmth spread through her, and as it did, the ache from her wound faded as the flesh knitted back together as the human's healing spell did its work. Shaking his head, Scourge sighed. “It will take a while for the fur to grow back, and you’ll have a scar…” Scourge began to stand, but a hoof stilled his rise. Looking back down, the human now regarded the pleading eyes of the mare he’d just saved. “Don’t leave… I’m…” ears flicking to lie flat at her skull, Storm Kicker whimpered, “I’m scared.” Smiling, Scourge took a canteen from his side and, gently lifting her head, pressed the container to her lips. “Don’t worry kid… I’m not going anywhere.” .......................................... .......................................... Storm groaned as her eyes fluttered open. Fore-hooves swaying slightly at the human under moved, she realized she was being carried. Rubbing her forehead, she winced. "Where.... what time is it?" "Early morning..." Slowly, Scourge lowered the mare down. Legs quivering a moment, Storm Kicker collapsed, scowling. Chuckling, Scourge sat cross legged next to her, and took out half a loaf of bread. Tearing off a piece, he held to the mare. Storms eyes widened, and she gently licked her lips, and lunging slightly, took the bread. Wincing as the teeth nearly took his fingers, Scourge yanked his hand back. Rolling his eyes, he took out his canteen, and pressed it to the mares lips, who drank greedily. As he quickly pulled it away, she growled in protest. Chuckling, the human patted her side. "We can't give you to much kiddo. You'll get sick." Snorting, Storm laid her head back down. Suddenly, she yelped, and flinched away from the human. "Hey, what the...?" Scowling, Scourge held the mare down, and began his work again. "I'm preening you and making sure no permanent damage has been done." Wincing, Storm laid back down with a grunt. "Broken wings would have better..." clenching her eyes shut, Storm Kicker whispered, "Death would..." Suddenly, Storm Kicker was yanked up, and with his hand firmly under her chin, Scourge growled "Don't you dare, woman..." Features softening, Scourge shook his head. "Never say that. To die... that's easy. Livings hard. But its worth every bit of it. Understand?" Pushing his hand away, Storm Kicker snarled, "Don't you dare talk down to me! How dare you tell me that after..." the mare stopped, her words choked off, and looking down, she bit her lip, then gasped. "Its not your fault..." while she was looking down, Scourge had drawn her to him, and was slowly stroking her mane. Baring he teeth, Storm Kicker struggled in his embrace. "Let go... let go damn it!" "Storm... its not your fault." Slowly the pony stilled, then went limp, burying her head in the humans shoulder. "I... I should be more then this... Damn it! Why can't I be stronger?" "Shh... Its okay... we're gonna get you fixed up, okay kiddo?" Scrunching her eyes shut, the mare growled, "I'm... I'm not crying, you hear me? I'm a bucking Kicker damn it..." Moments later, the shell broke, and what was definitely not the sobs of a Kicker filled the air. ........................................................ Storm Kicker sighed as she stretched out her wings, and looked around. The bague walls of a medical greeted her, and after a moment, her gaze fell to the human next to her. Smiling, Scourge looked up from his book, and nodded. "Hey." Smiling, Storm nodded back, then scowled as the human patted her head, and chuckled. "Hey, theres a real smile! Feeling better?" Knocking the hand away, though still giving a slight giggle, Storm nodded. "Liar." Storm winced, then glared at Scourge, who merely scowled back as he crossed his arms. "Listen girl, its only been two days. You came here half starved and dehydrated, never mind what Gridstat..." At the name, Storm covered her ears with her hooves, whimpering. "Stop! Please... I don't even want to think about that... thing..." Sighing, Scourge patted the mare on the neck. "Okay kiddo. I gotta go. Try to..." as he spoke, he began to rise, then for the second time, had his hand taken between Storm Kickers hooves. Tears running down her cheeks, Storm drew the hand to her muzzle, and kissed top of the humans hand. Brows raised, Scourge sat back down. "Uh... Storm, what's...?" Opening her eyes, Storm said, "Ut vos, ego swear iuramentum e sanguis..." Brows knitting together, Scourge whispered, "Storm... I'm flattered, but..." Any protest was stilled with a hoof to his lips, and firmly Storm shook her head. "For all my days, I will serve you. What are your orders, my master?" Sighing, Scourge stood again, gently placing the hoof back on the mattress. "Get better... and don't call me master."