I had a good life as Jerrik Handel. I lived in London, worked at the Globe Theater as a stagehand. Sure, I haven't had any form of intimate contact since I was ten, but I grew to thrive in my solitude. At least nobody could tell me to take the shrines to the Æsir out of my flat, or to stop watching cartoons for little girls.

So when I get an offer from these very Æsir to become a champion for Bragi, why did I say yes? To leave behind my job and previous life and any hope for rekindling lost feelings...

I blame Loki.

So now, here I am in Equestria, transformed into a giant Lyrebird-like raptor named Utfor because Bragi got lazy with his boon, trying to prevent the silencing of Equestria's magic. At least I can carry a tune now.

Thunderlane awoke to greet a perfectly normal morning that quickly spiraled out of control when he found that his lucky horseshoe has been stolen. Follow our hero as he follows the trail and enlists the help of his friends in order to get it back

Based on the Lay of Thrym, of Norse origin.
Written as my application for the position of a writer on Legends of Equestria, and as my submission in Equestria Daily's Friend Off.

We're not what you would call 'socially attuned.' Hell, we barely ever leave our room, and we were happy like that. We had our games to keep us happy. Our friends, however, talked us into attending Comic Con this year, so we decided to dress as Dust, from Dust: An Elysian Tail, one of our favourite games.

Unfortunately, the one time that we are pulled out of our town is the one time that shit goes down, just as we had expected. Now we're all separated and being hunted by ponies that care little for things like due process and thinking shit through.

Luckily, despite being separated, we still have each other. Kind of.

Bandwagon time.

Servants have their uses, no matter their form, station or handicaps. Marwolaeth Pydredd is one such servant, cursed with an infernal visage that causes any who look upon him to convulse in fear before locating the nearest set of torches and pitchforks. As such, Marwolaeth hides his body underneath layers upon layers of metal and leather, concealing all but the barest glimpse of his eyes with shining metal and sturdy chainmail. For years immemorial Marwolaeth has been guided from town to town, between planes and even into the dens of powerful creatures at the behest of his master, who lends his skills to the highest bidders.

Marwolaeth's newest charge is the peaceful land of Equestria, lent to Princess Celestia herself, in order to guard the Elements of Harmony. Not even five minutes into his new assignment is Marwolaeth asking himself why he's there. A peaceful land has no need for a hardened warrior, and he has no need for the rest such an assignment would provide. What Marwolaeth doesn't know, though, is that trouble is brewing on the horizon, and just under his nose.

Edited by G3k0771