Griffon Wars: Prologue
I lay in my bed, home at last, in the dark. All was quiet, except for the voices in my head. So much had happened the last few days that it was difficult to think. No. It was easy to think, but hard to sort that thinking out. I needed to do something, but what?
Slowly, I sat up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. Lighting the lamp I looked around the barren room, barren, but utilitarian. A small desk sat in one corner, the nightstand next to the bed, a dresser and a mirror. A closet door stood opposite the bedroom door.
I decided the desk was my best bet. Rising, I crossed the room and sat in the stiff backed wooden chair, running my hooves over the smooth wooden surface. Digging through the drawers, I found writing utensils and paper. Not what I had in mind, but it would have to do.
Uncorking the ink well, I dipped the nib in the black fluid and held it poised over the parchment…
---
I’ve never been much of a thinker, but I suppose there’s a first time to everything. I just felt the need to organize my thoughts in a place that I could see them, so here goes.
It’s been strange since we came to Kittyhawk, I’ve felt at home again. first time in a long time. But as usual, trouble followed. When all seemed to be going well, research progressing, my own past behind me (so I thought), it all went to Tartarus in a hoofbasket.
Delta up and pulled some stunt, stealing Belle’s magic (she’s still laid up from it) and I had to hunt him down…
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I paused here and rubbed my sore belly, stitches still fresh from after I had torn them open. I returned my attention to my writing.
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After “the hunt”, as the griffons have taken to calling it, I earned a new nickname. “Das Blutig Jaeger.” Which roughly translates to “The Bloody Hunter.” I guess I’m flattered.
Anyways “the hunt” was cut short by another griffon, showing up and informing those that had accompanied me of the fall of their capitol, Griffonstone. News is still trickling in, but the story seems to be that a group of separatists, calling themselves the “Griffonian Old Imperialists” staged a coup d’etat, killing their king and scattering their parliament.
Currently I'm holed up with a group that's slowly coming to call themselves “Loyalists”. The Equestrian battalion posted here are awaiting orders from the throne… ---
I stretched, vertebrae popping as my back arched. Looking out the window, the sun was just beginning to peek over the craggy horizon.
Putting the pen down, I sighed heavily, dropping the sheaf of papers into an open desk drawer. It was time to go to the base and see what the Colonels had to say. This was going to get real interesting, real fast.
Illustration by: @equestriahelljumper
Written by: @ask-crackshot
