Who Needs Harmony?: An MLP Empire Quest

[Preventer Squall]

Troll 'Hunting'


"Shit shit shit shi-" "Shut up or I trip you!"

Under normal circumstances, this would be a charming bit of japery between old friends. Under normal circumstances, there wouldn't even need to be so much profanity.

Normal went right out the damn aerie the moment they found 4 trolls instead of 2, all of which were now chasing them around the craggy outcroppings of the mountain range.

"Why aren't we flying?" Barnaby huffed as they turned around another precariously short bank in the terrain.

"Because when I tried, I nearly got a rock to the skull!" Cornelius explained with a snarl, tempted to bite his smaller compatriot to finally get him to stop talking. But that would risk taking his eyes off the ground, and that was too much of a risk even for the sake of venting his frustrated rage. "Now shut up and stick to the plan!" He didn't even give interest to even a nod as he pushed their maddened pace just a little bit faster. This part of the adventure required a certain level of nuance and grace, running just fast enough not to get caught but not too fast and risk losing the dumb brutes.

But they still had to dodge and juke around the landscape and the projectiles being thrown their way, which was just plain cheating!

Soon enough their target was in range, and they picked up with a surge of desperation. Apparently the trolls felt it as well and increased their pace, apparently eager for the meal as it ran towards an obvious dead end of a cliff ledge. But then the griffons kept up their speed and simply lunged off the cliff, snapping their wings open and going in two separate directions. Cornelius watched out of the corner of his eye as two of the dumb trolls ran right off the edge, but the others had managed to skid to a stop right near the drop.

Just in time for a much older griffon to run out of the underbrush at full speed and leap onto the trolls, sending them tumbling into one another and down to meet their friends.

The grizzled avian nodded and winged his way towards his apprentices. "And THAT, ya rugrats, is how you live capture trolls!" His chest puffed smugly at that. It was a simple methodology, to let gravity just knock them out for you, but required quite abit of effort and timing. And bait, obviously, but that was put aside as the trio began their downward glide.

Already Cornelius was breaking off to bring the cages and wagon closer so they could begin loading, Barnaby breaking the silence as he pushed the unconscious trolls apart. "Did the king say why he wanted live trolls?"

"No, and no troll hunter is fool enough to ask when he puts out a bounty this big!"

The shouting from the elder griffon made him wince, and he was more then willing to keep his beak shut as they began dragging the bodies. He didn't know what was going on, and some small part of him said they were better off not knowing.

Didn't stop him from whispering a quick prayer for whatever poor soul had to deal with these damn things when they wake up.

---

Just a fun bit of pondering about how one could even catch something as surly as a troll. Along with me vote, of course.

[X] Roar of the Lion: This is what the Knights were created to do, what they are trained and equipped to do. You're a merchant, an administrator, a ruler, but you're not a warrior, and you're certainly not as great a warrior as Brochard. Leave the task in the capable talons of Hardbeak and his Lions. You're not going to risk your life over some petty grudge.

 

[beingme]

Not According To Plan (Part 1)​

"Events are not going as I planned them to be."

These were the thoughts that are reverberating across King Brochard's mind. He is currently staying in the Aquileian camp in his own personal tent, going through the reports he has received from his officers as they siege the capital of Wingbard.

These past couple of years have not been kind to the current king of Aquila when it comes to dealing with the neighboring fiefdoms. King Brochard can't seem to understand how the other nations could not question the legitimacy of that merchant suddenly being the new king of Griffonia. In finding any living descendants of the Great Imperial family of old, they came up with a merchant? Not a noble house, not someone of a knightly order, but a fucking merchant? and a middling one at that and not someone of any notable renown! Pah! How far Griffonia must have fallen if they are willing to accept some no named merchant as their king, how the mighty have fallen. Getting the others to understand this is an exercise in futility in Brochard's mind.

"Whatever!" muttered King Brochard, as his thought went on further over his frustrations with dealing with his neighbors. "If the land of Griffonia are willing to have such a "Merchant" king under their rule then he will let them. It will only serve to benefit me in the end as I will show them how such a weak king will no doubt fall to me. Fall to my army and my secret weapons"

A small grin can be seen in Brochard's face as he thought of the surprise his enemies will have as he spring his secret weapon against them. He further go on the reports on his table and soon came across a document detailing something about the damned brigands and bandits he has hired. He frowned at the report given, it was polite enough but he can read between the lines. The officers are once again report some "unacceptable" behavior they have been exhibiting again. King Brochard can't help but frown. Ever since he has decided to hire and enticed them with a pardon at the end of their service in this war on those low life scums to pad out the numbers, he has been getting flack from pretty much everyone, even from his own army that were suppose to benefit from! Can't they realize that it was an ingenious move on his part? by hiring them out, he removes a majority of the criminal element within Aquila and at the same time, find use for them as acting meatshields for the army. It was all they were good for after all. Besides, while he may pay them gold and a pardon, he has no intention of keeping them alive long enough to enjoy it. This is war, criminal scum such as these will be dying in droves soaking up the fire and killing whatever enemy they can to soften them up before the main force have their turn. Anyone still surviving near the end can be send on some suicide mission to die and all the gold he paid them with will be his for the taking once again. When this war is over, every Griffon that ever went against him on this decision is going to eat their own words.

King Brochard further went into the reports given to him and can't help but scowl on the report that Wingbard still refuse to give up on that capital. That damn city has been under siege for quite a while now but those damn Wingbardians just wouldn't give up! It should have been easy! Wingbard doesn't have that much military strength to speak on relative to his kingdom. Hell, they had to have Griffonia come in to save the day when their own military couldn't handle their own damn fire. With a military with a track record like that? It should have just lasted a few months of campaigning at most. Wingbard should have surrendered by then! instead, it turned into this long drawn out affair ranging in many months. Time he could have used preparing against his rival's army.

Suddenly King Brochard here to sound of the alarm and one of his messengers came through the tent.

"My Liege!" the messenger shouted, his eyes wide in alarm. "An army arrives! They carry the banner of Griffonia!"

King Borchards eyes widen at the report "Well, speak of the devil"

"Rally the troops! get our men in defensive positions now!"

"Yes my lord!" The messenger saluted and left to deliver the commands. King Brochard came out of the tent to see the coming army for himself. There, on the horizon, The King saw the army of his rival. No doubt coming to aid Wingbard. The King can't help but tsk at what he sees. This is what he were hoping to avoid, he wanted to face this army at his own terms and maybe behind the defensive walls of Wingbard's capital when they should have surrendered many months ago.

"The orders have been received my king!" The messenger returns, giving his report. "Awaiting further orders!"

"Tell the general to take command of this battle" he King instructed, giving new orders for the army to follow "I will have to get our "secret" weapon in order personally."

"Yes my lord!" The messenger replied, getting ready to fly and relay the message when his king speaks further.

"Tell the General" King Brochard said "That this battle will most likely decide the fate of the Griffon empire" The king's eyes bore through the messenger's head, conveying the seriousness of the matter "Failure is NOT an option. am I clear?"

"Y-yes my lord! Perfectly" The messenger stammered

"Good!" The King replied. satisfied that he has made the seriousness of the matter clear "make sure the good general gets it too."

"At once!" The messenger finally flies away.

King Brochard once again look at battlefield and see the coming fight that will decide the fate of Griffons everywhere throughout the Empire. He dearly wanted this fight to come under his terms but he stayed here for too long and those persistent bastards within the Wingbard Capital have held them up long enough for Griffonia to send out their army to relieve them.

"Yes, things are not going according to plan at all" Thought King Brochard. He turns back, intent to go to the troll cages and make them ready for the coming fight. "but no matter, I can deal, My army and my general can deal. Situations like this are nothing new. No plan survives first contact after all."

A small grin came up on his face as he look into the tents hiding the cages that hold his hidden aces in this battlefield "And I am damn sure, no one planned to have to deal with 15 heavily armed and armored trolls tamed to fight for the glory of Aquila" He enters one of them, seeing the Griffons in charge of taking care of them "When I unleash my secret weapon, my victory is assured!"

"Men! the time has come!" you shouted, gaining the their attention "I am sure you have heard the alarm by now. Griffonia has arrive and its time to see if these Trolls are worth every penny! Make them ready men! Its time to unleash them to our enemies!"

Shouts of affirmation reach King Brochard's ears and can't help but grin at the onslaught they will unleash to the Griffonian army.

"hehehe, they won't know what hit them before its too late to do anything about it!"

@Questor Hey there. here is another omake for the upcoming battle. It took too long so I cut it into two parts. This is part 1 for now. Part 2 will come later when I catch up with some sleep.

If this gets some points, plse send them to where they are needed the most.

 

[Edtherr]

((ok, before I start on this, hello everyone literally my first post on SV. Basically felt like trying a omake on this story, sooo... well honestly I took a look at the rules and so on and since questor already tallied the votes, lemme try a omake here))
((also I am not sure I am allowed to make a Omake about the King either so... welp, I can always delete it too.))

~~~~BLOODIED KING~~~~
​

You are Garrick Golden-Feather and you are a bit... annoyed. Not much, admitedly, but maybe you shoudn't have taken that beer before you started. Regardless, you just heard the Doge and his completely-rightful-totally-selfless compromise. So, you take a small look around you, particularly at the escort behind Doge. Keeping eye contact with him, you move your dominant claw towards your sword (which you never thought it was worthy of giving a name), and slowly, non-threatheningly, move it in front of you, scabbard and all.

Doge tenses up marginally at that, though your deliberate slowness keeps everyone claws at bay, including Konrad Hardbeak's, which looks passively at the situation unfolding. You slowly put your claws on both hilt and scabbard, and unsheathes your sword carefully, with measured movements. Its pretty obvious this is a show, not very different than a sales pitch, you remember with irony.

Your clawtips pass slowly across the scribing on the sword core: "Order above Chaos" (yes, pretty fitting message for a post-Discordian Era, among other things). The blade is pristine, well kept, never used past cerimonial circunstances, but well oiled. You pretty sure if you didn't keep it maintaned yourself your wife would want your hide (a surprise attack to motivate you to remember, most likely). Still, you turn your gaze, away from Doge, moving your eyes towards the scribbing as you start to speak:

"I think you are misunderstanding me, esteemed Feathersians." You keep your tone deceptively soft, yet your body language, while not showing bloodlust nor readiness for combat, doesn't show weakness. Your wife didn't want you only fit, she helped you to be combat-able to HER standarts (you are very sure you not there yet, but you not shaming yourself, either)
Doge tilts his head slightly at that, looking at you. He has the good sense of going with the flow, both out of respect, and out of reciprocity. "I am sorry, Your Highness, I do think it is a very agreeable deal for our people. Our people thrive under the free spirit of trade, and to take it out of them would diminish them" He says in his colored tone. Before Montefeathertro decides to stop holding that snort, though, you continue:

"I did best Brochard in a battle of armies, but I am not a Warrior King like him. I met my fight with honor, and by luck of fate and strengh of my people, I succeeded."

You keep caressing the inscription on your sword, carefully. Its edge never saw the flesh of your enemies, but it was this very sword that was pulled and pointed towards your enemy, the one that guided your people into combat. It is the most bloodied sword of your forces, for all the other swords, spears, ballista bolts came under its command. Even the mighty hit that decaptiated your rival King is on this blade.

"I do not have his ambition, nor do I hunger to unify all of us under one military rule. I was a merchant, I am now a King. And my highest priority has always been to make my people thrive, to bring progress to our lands, to make we, all of us, free from the shadow of Discord."

Doge takes this moment, subtly given to him, to start talking again: "Yes, your Highness, you is a most noble King, and we the Feathersians will be happy to abide by this spir..."

you cut him off with a screech sound coming from your sword. Your talon is not strong enough to cut metal, but to make a sound is all you need. This be just another cerimonial use of your sword, a strike without flesh-rending that rends all the same.

"Here is my counterdeal to you. I will accept the tax reductions in order to alleviate the Feathersian Council needs, while in return expecting your good will towards the entire land of Griffonia. But I will hold complete authority over what comes in, or comes out, of your lands. If you do not agree to those terms, then we will each go on our own ways, friends but with our own people to manage. Your people that are singing, as much as mine is, to be unified for the first time since Discord."

You take a small moment at that, then you look up at Doge, wearing the same determination you had when you ordered your people to fight for you, to bleed for you, when you anointed your sword.

"I will use my resources to do the same thing I have been doing all this time: to improve my Empire, to improve upon its people, to bring prosperity to ALL of us. Specially those not on this table." you do know, thanks to the usual politicking and information network any merchant has, that your efforts to level the prosperity among your new lands are no news to anyone in Feathersia. "My people will prosper, more than yours, simply because I am more willing than you to use my coffers for this cause. This will raise your people discontentment in not being under my rule, and in order to keep the pressure down, you will be forced to improve upon your lands, more than you would like. Then we will meet again, in a table like this one, and negotiate again, with you in a worse position than before."

"..." Doge looks at you, his experience in deals more than enough to keep him from showing his emotions on this matter. After a moment and a look at Griffelda, that gives a curt nod, and Monterfeathertro, thats trying his best to not laugh his rump off, he looks back at you, the very image of a merchant offering a great deal for all involved, and says "Those terms are very amenable, Your Highness. We are pleased to have such a... Prosperous King guiding us."

Edit: typo correcting and making the formatting more palatable.

 

[Mark21800]

Okay this started out as a pro-colonialism argument but evolved into my very first omake ever!

-X-
A Letter from a Enterprising servant​

Hail Emperor Garrick! First of your name and Unifier of Gryphus.

I am Graham Green-Wing of the Former Feathersian League. While I obtained my Mercantile licence slightly over five years ago and doing fairly well for my self I have arrived at a bit of an economic road block. With the annexation of the League and other polities I have found my self with a lack of economic opportunities. However word has reached me of your intentions to sen out an exploratory expedition in order to make sense of our new stabled world. So I have taken it upon my self to bring this important issue an potential opportunity to you attention.

As you very well know we stand at the precipice of an Age of Exploration and if handled properly Great economic opportunity for our Empire. After several reviews of our Empire's economic potential I have come to the conclusion that in order for our economy to grow we must expand into foreign lands. What form that expansion takes is a decision for those above my station, however I have prepared a number of points that might persuade your Majesty to take a more "aggressive" stance to acquiring land and resources for our people. If not they should at least provide a good guide line for our future colonial endeavors.

1.Resources

Spoiler: Details

• Our Empire's greatest short coming is its lack of tradable goods. This suited our people just fine during the age of Discord and Time of Healing where we were more focused on survival over profits. The unfortunate reality is that the majority of foreign markets (with the exception of the Nobility and Merchants) aren't going to be interested in foreign cuisine. While our recently created Munshine might become a popular luxury among the common people, we currently lack the means to produce the beverage in large enough quantities to sustain a viable market.
• To remedy this short coming lands with useful, valuable ,and rare resources should be prioritized when considering our future land acquisition. On that note I would also suggest that a new type of cargo ship be developed. While the humble cog is a very versatile ship it simply isn't a dedicated cargo/merchant ship.

2.Natives

Spoiler: Details

• While we are well aware that the other Sentient species of our world survived the Age of Discord, I would like to remind his majesty that not all territories were explored and inhabited before the landmasses were moved around. There is a good chance that a portion of any newly discovered territory will be uninhabited and ripe for the taking, if not as a colony then at the very least an outpost where our ships and couriers can get some r&r.
• In the likely event that the newly discovered territory is inhabited there even more points to consider.
  1. Have they successfully unified/re-unified into a greater nation or are they still divided into smaller polities?
  2. What is the disposition of the ruling sovereign/'s?
  3. What resources do their territories posses?
  4. What resources does their market desire?
  5. What are their military capabilities and can we counter them effectively?
  6. And most importantly of all, will they try to cave-in our skulls on the first meeting?
• While I understand that his majesty is not the most militarily inclined of our people as a former merchant you must understand the necessity of the eventual "aggressive acquisition". Obtaining favorable trading rights through negotiation is always preferable, but some polities will either try to under cut us or be to Isolationist/Stu-born/Pigheaded to establish any for of meaning full dialog. In such an event "aggressive negotiations" will be required to obtain favorable terms.

3.Distance

Spoiler: Details

• The further away from the home land a colony is the harder it will be to administrate and defend. While the fact that our people can fly is great boon I highly doubt any of us can cross the ocean in a single flight without rest.
• While exploring we should make note of any small islands en route to potential future colonies. These can be potentially converted into rest and resupply outposts for our couriers and ships. In fact with enough islands we could form a intercontinental courier system without having to over rely on our ships.
• While on the subject, if such island chain does not exist then communication between the home land and the colonies will almost entirely rely on the speed of our ships. In the event that this holds true I highly recommended that we invest in a dedicated courier ship specifically designed to traverse a large distance in as short a time as possible.

All of the points above should be considered if our Great Empire is to become/remain leading power in this Post-Dicordian world. Even if we do not follow the path of Conquest we should still utilize all the tools at our disposal to ensure Gryphus becomes and remains the worlds leading Economic power.

Your humble and enterprising servant Graham Green-Wing.

-X-​

That's 815 words, I used spoilers to save space.I hope this helps persuade our Emperor to take a more aggressive approach in our future colonial endeavors.​

 

[Edtherr]

Ohh... Idea!
Here's a omake:

~~~~~Diversifying Assets~~~~~

Many Years Ago:
​

You are concernstruggledistanceunity, a... long term position in one of the less habitable lands of the world, or so the Hive believes. Truly, the Hive is far from omniscient, or all powerful. You only need to look at your own talons to remind yourself. Inwardly, you sigh, while working on the biggest library of Griffonkind, remembering what you lost to be here.
Changeling shapeshifting is very good at appearances, specially when the original form is already close to our own. The furthest you go from that, the more energy you need. Mostly love, as always. That will give you a easy to look form, but that won't sustain any sudden impacts unless its short-lived. Among ponies, that is enough, they are amenable enough, simple enough, and the worst you can get usually are a strong hug from a overeager pony. In usual times, at least.

With the banishment of Discord, the entire world is in a shift. New groups are appearing, identities are being remade, and the seed of hope and happiness was there, to the Hive joy (not like we actively partake in each other emotions, but one can feel a emotion tinge in our mutual connection). Queen Chrysalys, May the Hive ever live in her service, is the strongest of all influences by far, and her joy seems to be tempered with caution. She tasked you to be stationed in Griffonia, hence why your form is so away from the Hive, distance so big you barely can hear the whispers of the Hive connecting you to them. Another reminder of your sacrifice, to remain on this form.

For you are a Griffon now(Griffonling?), having slowly and carefully changed your body basic form to one of a griffon, a very expensive and long process that will virtually keep your form to the end of your days. It required larger amounts of love to make this form, more than what you would need for months in sustenance, a very heavy amount of self-contempt, and you partook in a hefty amount of longing, woven into your sense of self, so you didn't forget your mission. All so you had a sturdy body, that could accept a fight with the wilderness lurking around, withstand with its own wings the weight of the unrelenting winds, and bleed like a Griffon.

You can still change your face, the size of your beak, and the color of your feathers, but love tends to not be as available to you as before, so you end up settling in one form, one job... unchanging.

You are concernstruggledistanceunity, tasked by Her Majesty, Queen Chrysalys, to both monitor the griffin lands... and you do your best to make the Hive better off, a grain of sand at a time. Right now, you are looking at The History of Royal Feather, the most credible book in this entire library that concerns the Royal Line. And you just made a choice. You remember this name, was one of the first Griffons that you met while coming to this land, masquerading as a lost griffon: Garrick Golden-Feather, the merchant leader.

He had a unusual mixture of emotions for a griffon, specially at the time. Compassion towards you, Humilty towards himself(compared to most griffins), Composure towards having to deal with the ever chaotic lands of Discord AND THRIVING ON IT. And most of all, on the week you stayed with his group until you parted... he had Hope for the future. You would have called him insane if his Hope, sparingly taken, was what you desperatly needed during the first week you could barely hear the chirp of the Hive. Hope you would help your collective, even if you could barely be called one of them anymore.

So, looking at the History of the Royal Feather, you see the last part of the trail you were searching: two griffons that may claim the blood of the Royal Line. One be Garrick Golden-feather, and the other be Rusticus Rough-Talon. And you know the second name as well, a mercenary leader-sans-soldier for hire, a strong talon and a ruthless heart. Surely, to the martial prone Griffons he would be the more valued choice over being tasked with the burden of leadership of this land. A important task you were given to find.

You might not be a smart ... ling, but the Hive have a wealth of knowledge. We(even I) feel the emotions of our targets, and all too often we see what emotions one routinely have, and what do they bring.
Rusticos might, by accounts, be a strong leader, but would he bring what Changelings need? Contentment, Happyness, Love? Nay, he would make only a land where all thrive for battle, and those with no battle would either drown in fear, or in pride.

So, you take the History of the Royal Feather, and present it to the council of Griffons, the name that will hold the chance to bring Prosperity to the land of the Griffons.

May the Hive ever serve Her Majesty and She, in her wisdow, guide us forward.

 

[RukinSteps]

Matter of fact I'm so interested this came to mind. @Questor

Great Clans of the Yakyakistan
By: Gin Scribetalon

The various clans of Yakyakistan are varied and many across the great western wastes yet for all the barren lands there is a great many different cultural groups that wage war or engage in trade with each other. The relations between the tribes can often be seen in flux, however, there are some clans that have managed through brute force, charm or guile to become overlords over the other lesser clans taking them as cadet branches. Of which there are seven whose territories are vast yet held only in place by the relations a chieftain has to his overlord, ordinarily all would be well as a Yak's word is his bond, but some yaks are not as honorable as their other brethren.

Of the great seven, they are; Bright Tooth, Falling Cave, Diamond Crown, Salty Ash, Small Bison, Crazy Thunder, and Red Rage.

Bright Tooth

The Bright Tooth clan of yaks holds to the same religion that dominates over the Yaks of various gods and spirits that hold the world in place, the machinations of Discord aside the Bright Tooth is the tribe which managed to retain their shamanistic roots by having their personalized totems inscribed into their own teeth with the small amount of mineral wealth they scavenge from long lost ruins in their lands. If there are not enough minerals to do so they will even use delicate tools to carve the ritualistic symbols into their own teeth so that they might speak with a fraction of the elements power. Be it curses, demons or worse a Bright Tooth is usually the one you would go to through the practice of shamanism has faded from common Yaks leading to the tribe as a whole to be regarded with superstition and secret contempt yet none can deny the use of a good wind or warm fire or the nearby spring for a traveling band. Holds dominion over a moderate amount of land, enough for a barony at least.

Falling Cave

Though a great many tribes continue their nomadic routes there are a few tribes that found a rare resource that ends the roving tribesyaks though they rarely hold the lands for longer than a generation before a stronger tribe displaced them. The Yaks of Falling Cave, however, are a special brand of crazy as they had settled into a series of caves which are hollowed out through Mt. Ridgeback which held a wealth of resources from cave lichens and an underground spring. Instead of continuing to fight a near losing battle the tribe as a whole collapsed the entire cave entrance that allowed other Yaks to enter sealing themselves off from the outside world for years. It is only recently that they have returned from their caves though they are changed from their time underground with fur colors that are unnatural yet just as their coats are unnatural so too is there endurance and strength. Some claims have been made that warriors of Falling Caves have the strength of a hundred yaks when fully enraged! Secretive to an extreme the Falling Cave has the smallest amount of above ground land of the great seven. Rivals to Diamond Crown thanks in part to their constant quarrying of stone near their mountains.

Diamond Crown

Diamond Crown clans are a unique brand of yak as their endurance is of legends, local folklore has it that the very first chieftain of the Diamond Crown had managed to win the favor and heart of an earth spirit asking her to lay with him. From that union spread forth, the Diamond Crowns whereupon their brow can be seen a diamond birthmark. Nothing is more terrifying than to see the stampede of a Diamond Crown tribe for normal spears and pike simply shatter against their stone-like hides. This affinity with stone has allowed the Diamond Crowns to actually construct small villages of stone and fortifications amongst their quarries to better hold their domains and fashion weapons made of stone, though blunt and lacking a keen an edge a weapon of a Diamond Crown is heavy enough to make sure a worry a minor concern at best. Rivals to the Falling Cave tribe for their domains hold some of the few quarries of the land which lay nearby the mountain which Falling Cave makes their home, the two are quite bitter rivals because of this.

Salty Ash

Yaks who claim the Salty Ash are quite easy to spot as their hides and horns tend to a more darker coloration on account of their lands being home to a nearby active volcano that constantly shrouds the area in thick black ash, far from their few settlements the grasses they feast upon are lush with life due to the sediment from the volcano and they guard their borders well with constant stampedes between their borders against all who come close. The rare outsider that is welcomed to their lands would see their only city of Ya'kin would find it to be a city of in name only as only the priesthood to the great volcano goddess Pelu live there with others only passing through to offer a tribute or to allow a youngling to begin his rites there. The tribute is partially to keep the priesthood fed, but mainly to ensure that Pelu never enters her surly rage and shake the whole mountain apart like she had many generations ago when the land was whole. The rites of younglings, however, is where a young yak would delve deep into the volcano down the three hundred steps where they shall be embraced by Pelu and granted her boon. [The authenticity of this practice is unknown at present times as no yak in known yak history has ever manged to make it further than fifty paces.] The yaks which can go the furthest are the ones that are destined for greatness and can often be seen by their horns which become cracked with each step they take. Though they look weakened the horns can withstand the blows of a yak headbutt which is great indeed.

Small Bison

Small Bison is an oddity by all accounts until recently they were often regarded as smaller yaks with bigger humps on their backs. With recent explorations across the world over it is revealed that the Small Bisons are in fact a hybrid between Yak and Buffalo leading many anthropologists in the field to theorize that during the Age of Discord, (A.D) the buffalo tribe of yesteryear had found itself amongst the Yak tribes and made so well an accounting they had managed to interbreed with the local yak tribes creating a new race between Yak and Buffalo. Though smaller than their Yak cousin tribes the Small Bison are in fact the most agile and fastest of tribes, as much as a yak can be fast that is, they use this speed to great effect as one of their most infamous uses of this speed is to stampede so fast as to fly. It can only be done with a full herd of Small Bison working together, but it was first witnessed in a large scale fight between a Diamond Crown and Small Bison where the Diamond Crown's stampede was simply circumvented by the Small Bison leaping above the Diamonds and routing them in one fell swoop.

Crazy Thunder

Yaks are not the most intelligent of individuals often having poor impulse control that the Empire has benefited and regretted from for quite a long time, however, one tribe that suffers the most from this lack of impulse are the Crazy Thunder tribe. It is unknown when the tribe had first started their practice, be it from a Discordian trick to simple lack of forethought to even some say a bet between Yak and Spirit, but every time a storm is sighted or comes upon the land the Crazy Thunder shall wield a staff of iron to duel the sky itself. Of course, as the great Archimedes had once theorized, "Lighting shall always seek the easiest method to the ground to return from the sky, be it metal or simply the tallest object on the ground." This practice by the Crazy Thunder clan lead to many deaths due to electrocution, however, some managed to survive their duel with the blue death as they call it and can call upon the power which had tried and failed to kill them. Bolts of lightning and great cracks of thunder echo from the iron staves of a Crazy Thunder warrior for only those willing to become a warrior would march out into the storm. Hotly contested rivals with Bright Tooth clan on account of the Bright Tooth's declaring the Crazy Thunders to be heretics and perverter of spirits while the Crazy Thunders pay little heed to gumless yaks.

Red Rage

Among the various tribes of Yaks be they elemental slinging shamen to imbued with spirit granted strength there is one tribe that all other tribes will pause to listen to, that is the Red Rage tribe. Often the connotation of this tribe will lead many a novice ambassador to be quiet and calm least they face a rage unending, they would be quite incorrect as any tribesyak from the Red Rage would best describe as if carved from rock. They are a calm and stoic society with nary an emotion to be seen, they also have a great love of musical instruments that allow them to express their emotions to a great extent. However, the true reason why all other tribes will listen when a Red Rage speaks is that while they are calm and even-tempered, there comes a time when force is the only language that must be spoken. Usually this use of force, this rage that is whispered off, is rarely used for only the braggart or the green would offend to warrant such a reaction, there are even local tells that spoke of the Great Speaker Yungol Bellow who upon trying to broker a trade with Crazy Thunder caravan become so insulted he bodily lifted up the Crazy Thunder and proceeded to beat him with a fellow clansyak. The Red Rage was soon given a discount afterward and the Crazy Thunder caravan soon left for greener pastures.


Whew, that took a bit, I hope that this was interesting to read, might not be 100% Cannon, but I was really snapping at the brainstem to get some ideas thrown out there about our new neighbors.

 

[The Game]

Do we need Omakes? Yes. Here we go. @Questor
Omake title: There's a foul wind coming from the south

Shaman Blackhoof has been staring into nothing for a while now. Even as the Shaman's caretaker, you are unnerved.

But you had seen him do this before. Once.

The clan you are both members of, the Thundering Hoofs, is a very minor clan in the grand scheme of things, but you've definitely pulled your weight when it became necessary. And being sworn to the Raw Hides, the relatively smallest of the Great clans, and also the most isolated from the more fertile lands, meant that no clan could afford freeloaders.

Some of your clanmates have stated that they see you as one such freeloader, as you do not go gather food with the gatherers, nor do you scout ahead for any threat to your clan. But you ignore them because your task is just as important if not more.

Shaman Blackhoof has been acting as the guide of the Clan Head for more than seven decades. During those decades, he has guided your clan towards richer lands, and away from the occasional monster that wanders in from the wastes to the east, but he has been getting old; and his recently acquired apprentice, a young Yak named Chipped Horn due to an incident which he refuses to speak about, is not yet patient enough to listen, and later speak, the stories told by the Wind and the Earth.

You were tasked by the Clan Head to assist Blackhoof with whatever he needs several years ago, and now you occasionally help out Chipped Horn should he encounter difficulties in his studies.

Just this morning the Shaman entered one of his daily meditating sessions in his tent. He disliked being disturbed during this time, so you took the opportunity to teach Chipped Horn about the Herbs that are available to your clan. It was, after all, the Shaman's task to heal anyone in the clan who required it and it would not do to confuse the herbs that heal when ground to a paste with the ones that will ease his communion with the World when burned.

Chipped Horn had already made that mistake once. Thankfully he was just practicing, and he's unlikely to make the same mistake again, but you still remind him of it every once in a while.

It was when the sun was at its highest point that Blackhoof emerged from the tent, seemingly unaware of the world around him and walked until he was facing southeast.

Then he stopped and hasn't moved since.

"Should we go... see if he's alright Thick Fur?" Chipped Horn asks you, looking up from the bowl containing a half-made healing poultice.

"No." You sternly reply. "I have seen him do something like this once before. When he came to he said that the clan should stockpile as much food as we could. That same year, the winter's cold embrace was the worst seen in generations and food became almost impossible to find. If the Shaman hadn't warned us, many more of us would have starved. And not all clan's were as lucky as us." You can still remember coming across a gravesite for the members of one such clan soon after that dreadful winter ended.

The replicas of the Horn Markings on the headstones revealed them to be part of the Stone Treader clan, and their numbers before the winter hadn't been great, perhaps a hundred; but the cemetery that the scouts came across contained the remains of at least twenty. You remember that the lands in which they frequented had been hit by the scarcity the hardest, but knowing it had been nothing compared to the consequences of the fact.

Chipped Horn winced and continued grinding down the herbs and roots in his bowl. He had been among the younglings of the clan back then and losing his sickly grandfather to the famine had stuck with him for years. At least you had imparted the importance of this situation.

It wasn't until the sun was halfway from entering the horizon and calling the night from below when Shaman Blackhoof moved.

He inhaled the cold air deeply as if he had been doing heavy exercise for the past few hours and needed to rest a little before moving towards you. And there was something in his eyes. Wariness? Resignation?

Fear?

"What do the Earth and the Wind say, Shaman?" Chipped Horn respectfully asks.

He's coming into his manners at least. Good, he might just become a Shaman yet. You think to yourself. The clan will certainly need him if Blackhoof's attitude is anything to go by.

"Is it another winter?" You ask, already fearing the answer.

"No, Thick Fur. It is not." Blackhoof says in his gravelly voice. Dread.

His voice is filled with Dread.

He then turns back to the southeast with the weary eyes only an Elder Yak can have.

"A Shadow is moving. Can you feel the cold it brings? Can you feel its Darkness?" He asks.

Neither you nor Chipped Horn says anything.

"I must speak with the Clan Head about this." He abruptly says and moves towards the main tent with determination in his steps.

"What... What do you think he saw?" Chipped Horn asks you while looking at the southeastern skyline. Some hills, some mountains, and some clouds; that's all that has been in that direction ever since your clan settled the area.

"I don't know." You say.

"You should continue your studies Chipped Horn." You tell him, "The clan might need you soon enough." As you turn to follow Blackhoof, Chipped Horn speaks up.

"Thick Fur," he says. "when the Shaman told us about the Shadow," he hesitates before continuing.

"...did you feel the air getting colder?"

You tell him to bring it up with the Shaman when he returns.

His Gift is starting to bloom then, good.

As you turn away from the southeast and begin making your way to the Clan Head's tent, you can't shake the uncomfortable feeling that there is something over those mountains looking at you.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I would like the bonus to go towards either making allies with the Yaks (easier to ally with than the Qilin, given that they are right next to us) or weapon development (Fire-weapons/Cannons), whichever comes first.

 

[Firebringer2077]

Well this became a bit more involved then what I planned and it got away from me, but I figure hey might as well post it for those sweet bonuses. Next one will be considerably shorter. If a bonus is netted from this. Give it all to Archimedes. Oh and I know this is in no way Canon. Oh not even close @Questor
____________________________________________

Omake: Canterlot - Tis' a Silly and Terrifying Place

Canterlot, the new capital city, it was a little less than a dozen years into the rule of the Royal Pony Sisters. Creating a new nation from the legacy of Clover the Clever, Commander Pansy, and Chancellor Smart Cookie was no easy feat. Discord had broken old Equestria and Celestia and Luna with the help of Starswirl and Raven rebuilt it and tied it together. It was amazing what having two immortal alicorns who were hailed as victors against Discord managed to do to a nation. Commander Pansy committed the full resources to forging a new Equestria, but no one would question the elder pegasus who had fought a thousand battles and lost none, even the ones who wanted to forge a new Pegasi Empire. With the new income from the townships Fillydelphia, along with the Port of Manehattan, and the Unicorn state of Trottingham and Neigh Orleans, Equestria's future was bright. The Royal Pony Sisters established a council of ponies to advise them on all manners of state, and competition was fierce. No one would bar Commander Pansy from a place at the council, But somehow Duchess Aurum Blueblood of Trottingham managed to cajole her way to a seat in the Council Chamber. The most mysterious seat of all went to Princess Luna herself, Mistress of the Dreamrealms and Cosmos. However as of late Princess Celestia, nominal head of the Council was distracted....

Raven entered in from the side chamber, to announce that the Princess would be delayed. Luna sighed, once more her sister delayed council, as she looked at the esteemed... well not precisely, two of these ministers wouldn't be here if it wasn't to stop an insurrection. The Duchess of Trottingham, An alabaster coat unicorn dressed in her silken robes purchased from the merchants of Saddle Arabia. Known for her biting insults, and bitter personality to anyone not a unicorn but able to negotiate the trade deals and get what Equestria needed from it's many necessary trading partners. Despite Luna's best efforts she was never able to determine a link between the Duchess and the Unicornia revanchists.

Next over was the extremely aged Commander Pansy, leader of the Equestrian guard. Luna did pity the pony and wondered if she would bear the scars and pain she had endured with as calm a demeanor. Pansy's compatriots founded Equestria long ago after the Wendigos... but then Discord attacked. Pansy led the charge, but while Discord killed her soldiers, he didn't kill her. No... Discord would make her live the years her soldiers would have lived if she hadn't fought Discord... Centuries later, Commander Pansy was Cloudsdale and the Equestrian military more than any other figure, even the long dead Commander Hurricane. Despite her name the mere appearance of the Legendary Commander Pansy on the battlefield, and two alicorn princesses was enough to force Queen Metamorpha to run away to the Badlands in terror. Luna knew Pansy was not long for this world, and that time was running out. Special Care would have to be taken to replace her when the time came, but even the thought of anyone besides Pansy being Commander of the Pegasi made recruiting for the position impossible. None of the big Cloudsdale Families even ones that had multiple generals was willing to even hear of contingencies about Pansy's death... It did make Luna fear what would happen to Equestria in a millennia if somehow both herself and Celestia were gone, their little ponies would probably just run around screaming their heads off until some pony with enough power to vaporize whatever threat was there, or whatever 6 ponies figured out and remembered the Elements of Harmony were a thing.

Seated to Luna's right was the new selection from House Sparkle for Archmage, an excitable pony who gained Luna's notice for her sheer creativity with magic, although some of questionable note (seriously who needed a mustache spell?) and the pink pony was a bit too willing to dabble in wild magics, despite the royal edicts. To say she was an eccentric was an understatement, although her disdain of anything regarding the natural sciences was disconcerting in the least.

The last seat was unoccupied and held by Raven Inkswell, their teacher in all manner of the world that wasn't magical. After their parents were gone Raven and Starswirl before he passed were the closest to parents they had. Raven technically wasn't on the council but even the Duchess demanded a seat for Raven, as the treasury, health, construction, legal decrees, and much else went through her office. Technically Raven's title was only First Lord of the Treasury, and not "the one who keeps the nation running and even the princesses won't question." Luna began to get out her book when she felt Raven tap her on the shoulder, "Princess Luna, Princess Celestia would like to speak with you before Council" She turned and nodded walking just a half step ahead of Raven as protocol demanded. Ah yes. Protocol, one of Celestia's edicts that got written down before either Luna or Raven could stop it from going out. As soon as they were out side of the Council chambers she spoke to Raven, "What hath delayed my sister?"

Raven sighed, "Your sister is..." she paused searching for the right words as they walked through the palace, "handling foreign correspondence." Luna looked quickly to Raven, "She is disrupting the finely hewn network of alliances?"

The cream colored pony laughed, "Of course not, she's only dealing with one monarch that we have no official dealings with."

Luna paused, only one nation? who? There were only so many possibilities. Caribou? the Badlands? The lands of Megan?

Raven let out a dry laugh bringing Luna out of her frantic speculation, "Your majesty, If we are to have any chance of having Council end at an appropriate time today we can't have both princesses absent."

Luna shook her head and continued walking at a brisk pace to Celestia's quarter, "What nation, Raven?"

"Sombra, the Pretender to the Crystal Throne" she said with a hint of exhaustion in her voice.

"THAT VILE PRETENDER?!" her voice boomed, before Raven's hoof clamped Luna's mouth shut, "Inside voice dear. I didn't help build this new palace and diarchy and palace just for your voice to tear it down again. Simply get her to attend to council and we will move past this" she smiled, "Why do you think I etched that opposite the thrones? In time this shall pass"

Luna nodded, and proceeded to teleport to her sister's room

"Sister!" exclaimed Luna from the middle of the Royal Solar Bedchambers "Council was supposed to start 30 minutes ago! Where art thou!"

Looking around the bedchambers she saw that her sister was being a very messy pony again, parchment and posters littered the walls next to oil painting of famous battles or scenes. Scrolls of parchment littered Celestia's desk along with Canterlot Castle, although it was only a model with some additions. Luna picked up one of the letters and brought it over to her

Dearest Sombra,

Thou are thy hottest of the stallions in all of Equus, and if thou were here now I would allow thou to ravage...

Click to shrink...

Luna disintegrated the letter, Celestia must have been on one of her tangents again. Last year she tried to argue that both of the Royal Sisters deserved harems like those in Saddle Arabia, the year before that it was causing the sun to rise 20 minutes later each day.

"Celestia!" She yelled, and eventually heard laughing from the solarium. Cringing with what she might find Luna trotted to the Solarium. What she found there was Celestia clutching a letter to her chest, Luna cleared her throat. Celestia looked up immediately. "Loony! He wrote back!" she said as Celestia leaned back onto what Luna called her drama sofa. Luna rolled her eyes "Celestia, Council was due to start half an hour ago. What possibly could delay the affairs of state?" she frowned, this was a nasty ongoing habit Celestia had developed. Celestia sighed as if she was in heaven, and floated the "letter" that she held so dear. Luna gingerly grabbed the letter with her magic, affixed with the seal of Sombra she began to read.

To Princess Celestia of the Diarchy of Equestria

Regarding your previous correspondence, King Sombra has stated the following in response. "k."

Sincerely,
Lord Countess Evisceratrix of the Crystalline Imperium, serving his Exalted Highness King Sombra, Slayer of Queen Autumn, Master of the Crystal Heart, Six-time winner of the Imperial Geological Competition.

Click to shrink...

Luna didn't know how to respond but the only thing missing was floating hearts around Celestia's head. Oh Faust, not this again. First that Brown Earth pony with the scarf, and now Sombra a warlord to the North. Her sister's taste in stallions left a lot to be desired, but Celestia was clearly enamored, "He read my letter! I mean I only read about some of those things in the Ponysutra but he clearly is now totally enamored with me and we will be wed in a year!"

Luna opened her mouth, but then wisely shut it, Celestia would forget all about this in a month or two usually or she'd think the self appointed Premier of Stalliongrad was her new eternal soulmate. But... affairs of state must take precedence, "Celestia, the council?"

Celestia rolled over on the couch giving a squee, but then noticed Luna was still there, "Hmm? Oh right Council. You go attend to court, this is a diarchy after all."

Luna took a step back, "M- Me? I am not you sister, I am the pony they fear in the shadows, trickery and deception are my skills, they think me a nightmare!" although she did admit it had it's uses... How many plots had she unraveled by simply inviting a noble for a chat? She hardly ever had to actually threaten them.

Celestia waved her hoof dismissively, "Oh pish posh, it's easy! Each council member usually only gives you three or four options anyway, just pick the one you like best, although watch out for Raven."

"Raven? Why?"

"Sometimes she has us pick two choices! and neither of them are cake!"

Luna's ears flattened, "Celestia, statecraft is not simply picking among a list of 3 or 4 options and waiting for the results. There is a delicate balance that must be taken into account playing off of internal and external..."

Celestia shook her head, "No it isn't it really is just that. Now, I have decreed, until I have handled this correspondence with Sombra. YOU will attend to Council" and Celestia made a paper appear with ink to that effect stamped it with wax and teleported it away. Luna heard distantly Raven give a yelp of shock at the scroll hitting her on the head. "Now shoo!" and with another crack of magic Luna was teleported to the council, in front of the throne.

The Duchess looked up from the table with an odd smirk, "Ah Princess Luna. May we start council deliberations now?" Luna was about to speak when Raven returned to the room and hastily said, "In apparent accordance with Princess Celestia's wishes she has decreed that-" the Duchess interrupted.

"-Princess Luna is to attend to council?" the Duchess smiled, "Why else would Princess Luna have teleported to the throne rather than her seat as a minister?"

Pansy slammed her fist on the table, "Enough." she said looking up at Luna, "So. Luna what's happening to today's council. These old bones need an answer" said the aged advisor on military affairs. Raven gave a silent look to Luna imploring her to declare a recess, the Duchess was smiling egging Luna on to take her place on the throne. The new archmage was barely paying attention and Commander Pansy waited in response. Luna cleared her throat, "Princess Celestia is handling a sensitive crisis via correspondence and doesn't have time to attend to council," she saw the Duchess' smile grow just a little bit wider, "As such, I will be attending to the Council myself until the issue is resolved."

The Duchess clapped her hoofs together, "Dearest archmage, I believe we have the wrong throne for Princess Luna, would you be a dear?"

The pink unicorn looked up, "Hmm? Oh that thing we talked about" and shot a bolt of magic at the throne. Slowly before Luna's eyes, the throne changed from Gold and Ivory, to Silver and Obsidian. Her throne... she finally had a throne, finally she would have the respect she deserved as Princess.

She nodded to the Archmage "Yes thank you Archmage, although I believe we should commission finally a more permanent throne for myself"

The Duchess smiled "Of course your majesty! It is befitting your station!"

Luna began to sit on the throne as she looked at her council. Commander Pansy looked glad as council was finally underway. The Duchess smiled widely as if she won a massive victory over Raven. The Archmage looked excited at having her turn for proposals in her first session. Raven though, Raven was glaring at the Duchess, but also gave a look of disappointment towards Luna. As she finally settled in the silver and obsidian throne, she wondered if this was truly the best choice.

You deserve this. Your sister is unfit to rule. Now is your time...

Where did that come from?... No matter this nation needed a ruler, one who wasn't distracted by her base desires. Luna smiled contentedly... she could get used to this. She looked up at the inscription that Raven had inscribed to always inspire wisdom in the princess. This too shall pass... Eventually Raven will have to get used to Celestia preferring to be a party pony, it was necessary for a Princess to be at council. Both of us didn't need to be here. Nothing bad could come of this she said as she sat on her transmogrified sister's throne.

>>>>>>>>>>

One Thousand Years and some change later

"Luna... why'd you make me watch this play. It's embarrassing enough already that this happened"

"Banished to the Moon.... ONE THOUSAND YEARS... No books" Luna said with a tone of finality, and gestured towards the stage

Sunset Shimmer collapsed very dramatically on the couch on stage, as Twilight stood there, "But Sissssss.... Sombra loves loves loves me! I'm in lovey lovey love!" Twilight tried to hold back her own laughs since she was on stage playing as Luna, Sunset was definitely having a ball playing Celestia and the audience was in hysterics.

Celestia pouted, but Luna whispered, "I think Sunset and you need to resolve these issues, when I put the flyer up she was through the portal begging Twilight to let her play you."

 

[Edtherr]

Oh, had a idea!
@Questor

~~~~~ (Trying not to) Ruffle Feathers ~~~~~​

You are Gabriella Golden-Feather and you have just done one of your few responsabilities not related to being a Queen or a Warrior: tucking your kid to bed and putting that griffon plushie she loves next to her, which earned a content sigh that did not make you daaw and anyone that says so will be put by my sword.

Off to more comfortable topics, you think when reaching the exit of her room, looking at the small detachment of Guards that consist your personal Guard: The Feather Fall, a small group of veterans that were assigned with your protection. You very much miss your old guard, if you are to be honest, the sense of kinship you shared, specially renewed during the Aquilea-Griffonia War. Still, needs must, and they were more useful becoming core members of the Knights Talon. Regardless, they keep to themselves, specially their leader... thats staring at you with a intent gaze.

"...what?"

"Your Highness" Galven starts in a polite tone. You tried to make him drop that title unless in a public setting, but being a fighter didn't seem to diminish his noble upbringing. But you have been far too annoyed and worried recently to manage to only chastise him for it. "I wish to request something of you."

...nooo. Really? You can forgive the Your Highness this time, you are needing the stretching. "Location?" is all you ask.

"This way, your Highness. Training ground 3." He says, and takes off the balcony. The rest of the guard follows after you two, with Galven having the good grace to stay very slightly behind you.

You take little time to reach Training ground 3, a training ground on top of one of the bigger towers. It woudn't be weird if someone were already there, but as your Guard, Feather Fall can requisit any training ground anytime they well please, under your name. A privilege they never abused, and hell, you always relax more slashing someone than a feathergrooming ever managed.

Each of you take out one practice sword, you feel its weight and balance, giving a nod of approval. Both of you take a distance of roughly twenty meters, in position.

"First Strike wins?" You ask in a no-nonsense tone, though there is a underlying joyful feeling to it.

"Until knockout or Yield."

My, my, my. Your wings open slightly at that. I already received a birthday gift from the castle knights two months, and now a second one?

You start with a straight dive, jumping straight as your wings both give you support, and extra impulse, your blade doing a upward diagonal slash. The attack misses its mark, Galven might not be your match in strengh, or even speed, but he definetly beats you in insight. He started to dodge the very moment you commited to the attack, but you were expecting that. Instead of stopping, you stomp the ground in a sweep motion flap your wings powerfully, soaring and turning around. Now lets see how he tries to...

A defensive GROUND stance against a Griffon? Against YOU? FINE. You take a bit bigger distance, allowing yourself a longer curve, and keep your blade in your right talon, gripping it strongly. Your longsword is your weapon of choice, easily able to be used in diving tactics or ground ones, and you make full use of it as you dive again toward Galven, holding his sword and shield. He parries mosf of the impact of the blade away, but you ARE a diving ball of muscle and steel. Even without your armor giving you extra mass, just the small portion of your swing which he takes makes his lower limbs screech against the stone beneath the dirt that covers the floor. You keep enough of your momentum and are nimble enough to avoid the counterstrike, but that IS your specialty. If he wants to be grinded down against the floor, by all means, then.

You attack again... and again, and again. Your strikes are heavy, unyielding, and you are deliberaly aiming for his center of mass. If he didn't have a very good shield by now (the swords are good as well, just crafted without a edge) he would have a broken sword by now. You have to admit this is feeling very liberating, the tension you been harboring is dissolving as you work on your Guard Leader like a drum. Still, if he is just going to be your cuttingbag, he don't deserve any request from you.

You prepare for the last strike before you call it a stop, going for a last tackle, and now he decides to come after you? Too little, too late, Galven. Still you were already in the middle of a curve, he did pick the perfect moment to cut distance between you two in order to force a stalemate. Your swords clash in mid-air, where your wings and position are what matter the most. He looks straight at your eyes, and you can see he is about to try a reversing maneuver when-

"If you die, she will be defenseless."

Your mind short-circuits for a moment when you hear those words. You barely register the pommel strike on your sword arm he used JUST when he uttered those words, your body reacting on the instinct of a warrior. Before he managed to bring his sword in for the kill, he finds himself Smashed against the ground, and if this weren't quite a large area, he would have fell some stories down on the ground and died then and there.

That DID crack most of his ribs, for sure... and you slowly descent to the ground as he slowly coughs the air in and out of his lungs.

"A... BloodFall Maneuver, *cough cough*, Your Highness? Good thing the recruits *cough more* weren't watching, thats on the suicidal textbook."

You gaze at him with a angry glare. Sure, You meant it when you told your husband that a warrior does everything to win, but using the fear of your daughter acceptance against you?

"... Speak, Galven."

He takes the better part of a minute in order to keep his breathing proper again, and he looks back at you. His gaze is serious as it ever was.
"We, the Feather Fall, understand your position, Your Highness. We consider your daughter one of our lieges, but we do not have the political power to keep her safe if worst comes to you and your husband. If you order us to protect her, we swear to do so on our blood, until the last of our feathers is forsaken by the wind. But we can't protect her on the political battlefield. Please, allow us to be your shield on the battlefield. We will all gladly give every single bit of our blood to keep you safe."

... damm bastard.

"... Fine. Request granted, Galven. But answer me one thing."

"yes, your Highness?"

"If you had actually managed to win over me , would you have requested the same?"

"No, Your Highness. I would have asked you to accept the Feather Fall to protect you, then broken my own beak in shame for betraying my position and using such a undertaloned tactic against my Liege."

"... fine." is all you managed to say, before giving him your back, and starting to fly again. You NOT going to show teary eyes to any of your guard, period.

And if the damm bastard ever tries something like that again... you will promote him to Captain of a Knightly order even if you have to fund it yourself!


PS: In case you are wondering, The Bloodfall Maneuver involves, quickly spinning one's body in 360 degrees, switching the sword from your talon to your beak in the middle of THAT, and use the entire centrifugal force to knock your enemy directly downwards. While using your body to parry the incoming sword strike. More likely to be impale yourself with your enemy sword than to fight back, of course.

Also, I actually rolled up a dice to see if she would win that match. 70% chance of sucess, 10% chance of tie.

Edit: Had to do a sliiiight change in some naming *whistles innocently*

 

[thamuzz]

@Questor
Omake: Cold

Cold.

All you know is cold. It has long since seeped past armor, past fur and flesh, through muscle and fat and sinew to sink into bones and veins. It has long since gripped your heart.

Cold.

The cold should have stilled your heart and stolen your life. Yet that heart that should be frozen yet beats, pumping thick blood through veins you can no longer truly call your own.

Cold.

It is not your will that keeps it beating. It is not your will that pushes you forward, one step after another.
It is his. The king wills that you live, and so your heart beats. The king wills that you march, and so your legs move.

Cold.

Soon, it will be the kings will that you kill. And by his will, you will.

Cold.

You are too cold to care.