/pone/ - My Little Pony

>>150928

>To your relief, the train appears to have finally made it up the treacherous and nauseating switchbacks.

>You can’t help but stare out the window as the tracks level out and the train begins its smooth cruise across a verdant alpine meadow.

>The majestic peaks surrounding you still have a hint of snow on them, but their white caps quickly give way to the green grass and brilliant blue and yellow wildflowers in the valley below.

>You grumble in annoyance when the altitude causes your ears to pop. That’s going to take some getting used to. However, the minor annoyance is more than offset by the beauty of your mountainous surroundings.

>You must be getting close to the border by now.

>Sure enough, the train enters a dark tunnel, conveying you through the very heart of a mountain. When you emerge from the darkness, the idyllic natural beauty of the previous meadow is gone.

>The war ended years ago, and yet the land still bears lasting scars. The ground is uneven and pockmarked with countless depressions, each one a testament to the terrible destructive power of a griffon bomb or the arcane blast of a unicorn. The mountain slopes are a dull shade of grey, stripped clean of all but a few burnt husks of the trees that once clung to them.

>Most prominently of all, you can still see the trenches. The unseemly gashes in the earth snake for miles across the entire breadth of the valley.

>It sends a shiver down your spine to imagine them teeming with fear and death as they once were.

>For now, though, everything is eerily silent.

>There is no birdsong. There is no wind. The steady chugging of your train is the only thing intruding on the hushed silence of this wasteland.

>Even your fellow passengers seem to have quieted down as they take in their grim environs.

>The two chatty elderly mares sitting in front of you seem to have nothing to say, and the screaming griffon child behind you has, for once, shut the fuck up.

>This silence lasts for several minutes as the train picks up speed, seemingly anxious to ferry its live passengers across this land of the dead as quickly as possible.

>Finally, you round a bend and the Memorial Line’s namesake comes into view.

>She stands ten stories tall, cast in gleaming bronze and decked out in her full battle regalia. The towering statue of Princess Luna of Equestria wears a stern, dutiful look on her face as she gazes out to the north, maintaining her eternal vigil over the rightful border of Equestria.

>One of the mares sitting in front of you begins to softly weep, but apart from a few oohs and aahs, awestruck silence still rules your train car.

>With that, the train crosses over into the Aerie Republic.

>A dozen or so miles down the track, the visible evidence of the war begins to dissipate. Life eventually returns to the world as you pass the final trench, and you soon find yourself rolling through peaceful mountain valleys once more.

>It’s as if it never happened.

>The mood in the train car lightens considerably. The old mares begin to chat again, and the little shit behind you starts screaming for his lunch.

>You decide to follow his lead, and head over to the dining car to get a sandwich to tide you over.

>>150929

>Four long hours later, you begin to see signs of civilization.

>First, it’s a small town situated high on a ridge in the distance.

>You can just make out the distinctive and deceptively simple wood and thatch architecture that marks it as a traditional griffon village.

>Then it’s a wide cobblestone road that runs parallel to the train tracks.

>It’s populated by the occasional griffon or diamond dog towing a cart along, but by no means would you say traffic is heavy.

>However, your anticipation grows when you pass directly through a decently-sized town. The signs along the track identify it as Deepwing, the Griffon Empire’s Aerie Republic’s leading producer of iron, and judging by the mines dug deep into all of the surrounding mountains, you have no reason to doubt this.

>You locate Deepwing on the map you brought and realize with excitement that your destination is no more than 15 minutes away. You begin gathering up your things and preparing to get off this ride.

>The train begins powering its way up what must be the final slope. It chugs with all of its might, taking the steep incline at an impressive speed.

>Up and up you go. You feel a vague nervous excitement gnawing at your gut as you near the top.

>You pass under a magnificent gate shaped like two arching wings, and at last you crest the ultimate hill. You are rewarded with a panoramic view of a sprawling metropolis glimmering in the fading light of the afternoon sun.

>Extensive suburbs of shabby thatched-roof houses surround a city core composed of brilliant white stone, which itself surrounds a massive tree which bears palatial mansions instead of leaves on its boughs.

>At the very top of the tree is a formidable castle that seems to have been carved from one gigantic piece of the pure white stone which comprises the city’s architecture. Its countless graceful spires swirl upwards into the heavens, and are capped with gold to reflect the sun’s beauty.

>”Welcome to Griffonstone!” the porter cries out laconically. “We will be arriving at the Gutosplatz Station shortly. Please remain seated until the train comes to a complete stop.”

>The train descends into the dense urban landscape of Griffonstone, and you get your first glimpse of the inner workings of the city.

>You had once heard someone say that Griffonstone was a city that grew up far too fast for its own good, and now you can see exactly what they meant.

>The entire city seems to have sprung up in an ad hoc fashion with no evidence of any greater plan. The roads are narrow, winding, congested, and still unpaved in many places. Your own train follows a circuitous, zigzagging path around stately stone manners and directly through thatched roof slums.

>And yet, Griffonstone is undeniably charming. The stone used to construct the core of the city lends an impressive and imposing air to the place without making it feel too cold, and the griffons you see walking along the bustling streets seem content, for the most part.

>As you near the train station, your attention is drawn to a brightly-lit boulevard lined with well-stocked vendor stands, fancy cafes, and beautifully crafted stone townhouses that seems like something directly out of Paris.

>Perhaps this assignment won’t be so bad after all!

>The train pulls into the Gutosplatz Station in the heart of Griffonstone, and you gather up your bags and clear customs in no time at all.

>In a matter of minutes, you step out of the train station and onto the cobbled streets of the griffon capital. As the aromatic and unfamiliar smell of griffon cooking wafts through the air and combines with the strange sound of the Griffonstone accent being spoken all around you, you feel a hint of that youthful excitement returning to you.

>Here you are, a stranger with a strange land stretching out before you, ready to be explored.

>The only question on your mind is what to see first.

DECISION TIME

Do you:

1. Go be a tourist and maybe check out a nearby museum?

2. Go get something for dinner?

3. Hit the nearest bar and sample some legendary griffon brews?

Remember, roll d100 to vote. I'll see you all tomorrow!

>>151031

>You briefly consider finding something to eat or having a look at some of the touristy stuff Griffonstone has to offer, but the intense boredom of the long train ride you just took is weighing on you.

>Not to mention the fact the screaming kid who was sitting behind you the whole damn time still has your ears ringing.

>You rapidly come to the conclusion that there is only one solution to your woes: sweet, sweet alcohol.

>Luckily for you, griffons are legendary beer-makers!

>Unfortunately for you, but luckily for your kidneys, you also have somewhere to be tonight, and you should probably be at least somewhat sober for it.

>The Company apparently has a “contact” in Griffonstone already, and your instructions are to meet with her at the Red Palace nightclub at eight this evening.

>You glance up at the massive gothic clock tower looming over the Gutosplatz to see if you have time to duck into a bar for at least a few hours. The brightly-polished brass hands on the clock show that it is about a quarter after five.

>It’s enough time for a few rounds, at least.

>You head off in a random direction and start scanning the various shops for any sign of a bar.

>You soon find one.

>In fact, you quickly find a lot more than one.

>Either you lucked out and stumbled onto the main pub crawl in Griffonstone, or griffons really, really love their alcohol, because it seems like every other building on this street is a drinking establishment!

>There are classy ones, trashy ones, and even a few theme bars. The bar shaped like a Zebrican medicine hut is especially impressive, and even comes complete with a smiling zebra doorman dressed up in a ridiculous shaman getup.

>You make a mental note to report to your superiors that selling Earth liquor to the griffons would probably be a hugely profitable venture for the EAEC.

>Then, you arbitrarily pick a non-descript inn called the Golden Tap and stroll through the door.

>You are immediately disoriented when you enter and find nothing but a hallway with a few doors on either side.

>After a brief moment of confusion ears pick up the sound of a low murmur and clinking glasses above you, and you glance to your right and see a stone staircase heading upstairs.

>Apparently the renter rooms at the Golden Tap are on the first floor, and the bar is upstairs. As you ascend the stairs, you wonder whether that’s a griffon thing or if this place is just weird.

>You make your way into the bar, but stop in your tracks when everything goes deathly silent the moment you set foot inside.

>The griffons in the establishment are all looking at you like you’re some sort of alien.

>Which, technically, you are. Most of these griffons have probably never seen a human before.

>You’re paralyzed, unsure what to say or do. Perhaps coming here was a mistake.

>The only thing you can do is stare right back at the bemused faces staring at you.

>Most of the griffons in the bar seem to be middle-aged and predominantly male, although there is a smattering of younger and older faces, as well as a respectable amount of females.

>Regardless of age or sex, their faces seem to be rather grizzled and rough around the edges. Clearly, the patrons of this bar are primarily working class. The occasional missing eye, wing, or limb also alerts you to the fact that most are probably also veterans.

>The unbearable silence is finally broken when a brave serving girl saunters up to you and gives an uneasy smile. “H-hello there! Welcome to the Golden Tap Inn. Have a seat anywhere you like…”

>You smile awkwardly and nod, muttering a few muted words of thanks, and most of the patrons reluctantly go back to focusing on their drinks or chatting with their company.

>You can still feel more than one pair of eyes on you as you sit down at the bar, though.

>Were the griffons on the street staring at you too? Were you too wrapped up in your search for booze to notice? Or did you somehow commit some sort of horrible faux pas when you came in here?

>Your ruminations are cut short when the bartender approaches. He’s an older, portly griffon with an impressive handlebar moustache and just a hint of mischief twinkling in his beady brown eyes.

>When he speaks, his voice is gruff and scratchy. ”So, Mr. Human. What’ll it be?”

>The bar has a truly impressive amount of beers on tap and all of them are utterly foreign to you, so you decide to pick one at random.

>”Ummm…I’ll have the Redclaw Amber Ale, I guess.”

>The bartender nods and wordlessly begins pouring your drink.

>You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a set of talons being laid gently on your shoulder.

>”So,” the voice behind you purrs, “Redclaw Amber Ale, hmmm? I see that you’re very new to Griffonstone, human…”

Just a short update tonight. I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow we meet our first major character!

>>151276

>You turn in your barstool to find that the talons on your shoulder belong to a young-ish female griffon. Her front half is covered in plain brown feathers and her feline bottom half is snow white with black stripes, like one of the rare white tigers back on earth.

>She wears a playful, disarming smirk that contrasts markedly with the suspicious, disapproving looks you’re getting from all of the other patrons.

>You fumble for your words, and after a few moments of making an ass of yourself, you manage to put yourself back in order and form a coherent sentence. “Ummm, well…yes. I am rather new. Why do you say that?”

>She puffs her downy chest out proudly. “Hah! Knew it! Anyone who’s been here more than a few weeks knows better than to get the Redclaw. Unless…” she tilts her head inquisitively, “unless you humans actually ‘’like’’ ale that tastes like diabetic goat piss. Is that what alcohol is like in human land?”

>You grimace. “Generally not.”

>She laughs heartily and pounds on the bar to get the barkeep’s attention. “Gunzelin! Pour out that sewage and let our new friend here try some Golden Wing Beak. And get me one while you’re at it!”

>You hear the barkeep grumbling something about why he even bothers stocking that Redclaw as he sets about pouring your new drink.

>The strange griffon takes a seat next to you and winks. “You should be thanking me human, I just saved you from a fate worse than death.”

>You can’t help but chuckle. “Is that so?”

>She nods vigorously. “But of course. Life is far too short to waste time drinking awful booze!”

>”Well then, I suppose I should thank you, Miss…?”

>”Name’s Griz,” she says, extending her foreleg out to you.

>You awkwardly grasp her strong, calloused bird-like hand and shake, being careful not to cut yourself on her talons. “Thank you for saving me from the awful ale, Griz. My name is Anon.”

>As you finish your introductions, Gunzelin sets down two large metal steins full of a dark, aromatic lager on the bar.

>Griz immediately snatches hers up and takes several long swigs interspersed with noises that you would describe as vaguely orgasmic.

>You tentatively have a small sip. The Golden Wing Beak is sweet and malty, and tastes wonderfully fresh, almost as if it just finished brewing today.

>It’s also really strong. The bitter alcohol packs quite a kick, but not so much that it overwhelms the more subtle flavors.

>Griz seems to have steered you right.

>You take another, far heavier sip. And then another. Soon, you’re demolishing your stein just like Griz is.

>Your new drinking buddy finishes her drink and slams the stein down loudly on the bar, earning a sideways glances from some of the other patrons.

>You’re only a few gulps behind, and soon all that’s left of your drink is an empty container and a pleasant buzz.

>Griz looks at you with anticipation. “So, what do you think?”

>“I think I’ll be ordering another!”

>She cheers and pats you on the back. “Now you’re getting into the Griffonstone spirit!”

>You and your new drinking buddy order another round. As you wait for it to come, she turns on her stool to face you. “So Mister Anon, what brings you to Griffonstone? They’re not letting human tourists through the portal are they?”

>You shake your head. “Nah, I’m here on business with the Euro-American Equestria Company.”

>Griz sighs, the mirth inside of her seeming to deflate a bit. “I figured as much. So did the rest of the bar.”

>You glance around at the other griffons in the room. Most are just ignoring you now, but you can still catch a glimpse of a few of the grizzled old war vets glaring at you from time to time.

>You suddenly feel a few pangs of nervousness. You take a few sips of your newly-arrived drink to steady yourself. “So that’s why I got the reception I did…”

>Griz frowns and softly nods as she stares into her drink. “You didn’t fight us directly, but human weapons are what turned the war into a nightmare. I’m afraid that some griffons might have a hard time forgetting that, Anon, especially if you’re with the very same company that sold those guns to the ponies.”

>You sigh. No one in the office had anticipated that the griffons would hold much of a grudge. In retrospect, though, it makes perfect sense that they would.

>Regardless, this assignment just got that much more difficult.

>In another instant, Griz’s jovial manner seems to return. She sticks her tongue out at you. “And hey, most griffons just don’t like strangers in the first place.”

>You roll your eyes. “Didn’t seem to stop you.”

>”Well, I’m not most griffons!” she teases in a sing-song voice. “Besides, stranger or not, no living creature should have to suffer Redclaw Amber Ale…”

>You and Griz share a laugh at that and go silent for a while as you both steadily imbibe your drinks.

>>154481

>Your stein is half-empty by the time you speak again. “So what do you do for a living, Griz?”

>Griz proudly puffs out the fluffy brown feathers on her chest yet again. “You’re looking at one of the best masons in Griffonstone! I work for a construction company here in town building those awesome white stone structures you see all over.”

>“You seem a little young to already be one of the best masons in this city.” you observe.

>Griz just looks prouder. “My father worked stone too, and since he didn’t have any sons, he taught me everything he knew. I was chiseling away at rocks from the moment I could walk, and I started helping him on the jobsite before I turned ten.”

>”Impressive. Have you worked on any of the big buildings around here?”

>Griz nods excitedly. “Oh, you have no idea. Pretty much all of the new ministry buildings have some of my stonework. I’ve built a bunch of the mansions on the branches of the Sky Tree in the center of town, and I even did the new façade for the Museum of Unity, which is not too far from here. Have you seen the museum yet?”

>You’re forced to shake your head.

>”You should go sometime! That façade is definitely my masterpiece…so far. Plus, it’d be a great chance for you to learn about griffon culture. Just…uh…try not to buy too much into the whole ‘griffon superiority’ thing they’ve got going there. Most of us griffons really aren’t that pigheaded, I promise.”

>You shrug, not really sure what she means by that. ”It wouldn’t be a history museum without controversy, I suppose. I think I might just check that out tomorrow. Any other places I should see?”

>Griz excitedly rattles off a bunch of valuable information about the city. She gives restaurant recommendations, tells you about the lesser-known museums and monuments, and even gives you tips on which streets are chronically congested and should thus be avoided.

>A few hours and several beers later, you feel like you know Griffonstone like the back of your hand.

>Griz is ranting about how overrated the amusement park is when you happen to glance up at the clock.

>You gasp when you realize that it’s already 7:30.

>Griz raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Anon?”

>You begin to panic as you hastily summon Gunzelin over and pay your tab. “I didn’t realize how late it is! I have to get to the Red Palace by eight!”

>Griz’s eyes go wide. “Woah! You’re really cutting it close, then.”

>You leap off of your stool and immediately regret doing so as the alcohol sends your head spinning. “Ugh…am I? I don’t actually know how to get there from here…”

>Your new friend smiles and slides off of her seat. “Wow, you really meant it when you said you were new here, huh?”

>You sigh helplessly. “Yeah…”

>Griz grabs hold of your hand. “Guess you’re lucky you caught me in a helpful mood. Come on. I know a few shortcuts. If we run, I can probably lead you there in time.”

>The prospect of running seems extremely unappealing to your addled brain, but you quickly realize you have no choice. You follow Griz down the staircase and back onto the streets, setting off on a mad dash to make it to the Red Palace in time.

So yeah, gonna try to write this week. Hopefully tomorrow! Thanks for your patience, if you're still reading.

TAVIFAAAAG

Stop digging your waifu's holes for a minute and get your ass in here!

TAVIFAG GET THE FUCK BACK HERE

pls we need you

>>158787

>>158740

These offerings please me. Will do my best to get something out tomorrow night. Work is unfortunately buttraping me, much like it is the SCHARPG guy.

>>154482

>Evening is settling in, and the ivory stones of Griffonstone’s upscale district gleam orange in the last gasp of the sun’s dying light.

>It would be beautiful, if you had time to stop and appreciate it.

>Griz leads you through crowds of griffons making their way home after a long day of work, bobbing and weaving expertly around the carts rumbling down the cobblestone streets, and occasionally darting down a dark, claustrophobic alley to avoid the worst of the seemingly omnipresent traffic jams in this part of town.

>As you turn onto a grand boulevard lined with wrought-iron light posts, Griz lets out a triumphant caw. ”Ha! Not much further now, Anon!” she cries between bouts of soft, ragged panting.

>You are sucking air like an industrial-grade vacuum cleaner, but still somehow managing to keep up. You glance up at the Gutosplatz clock tower, and realize with dismay that you have less than fifteen minutes to make it to the Red Palace on time.

>”I…I sure…hope so…” you gasp, barely able to speak over your exertion. “Is traffic…always this bad?”

>Your guide laughs. “Pretty much. Griffonstone grew from a small town to a huge city in the space of a few decades before the war. The infrastructure couldn’t really keep up then and it certainly can’t now, what with the war reparations!”

>Just then, Griz gracefully glides to the left, barely avoiding a street vendor’s cart that suddenly emerges from a side street.

>You’re a little less lucky, slamming your right leg directly into the solid metal corner of the cart and sending several of Griffonstone’s famous scones plummeting directly to the pavement.

>You yowl in pain, and take a few hops on one leg before powering through the sharp agony and continuing on.

>The shocked street vendor shouts a steady steam of what you can only assume is griffon profanity in a thick accent as you hobble away.

>You feel a little bad about not stopping and making things right with the vendor, but you’ve learned that it’s very important to behave with the utmost professionalism when dealing with EAEC business. Being late to your first meeting with an important contact will undoubtedly undermine your credibility and might endanger your entire mission here.

>You just hope you’re not too noticeably buzzed when you get there.

>Finally, Griz comes to the terminus of the bright, gas-lit boulevard. A large, majestic stone building bedecked in red and pink neon and sporting bright red shingles on its roof towers over the roundabout at the end of the street. From inside, you can hear the muted sounds of raucous jazz wafting out over the street.

>You stumble to a stop, place your hands on your waist, and struggle to catch your breath. “This…this is…the Red Palace?”

>Griz gives you a sardonic little grin. “What gave it away?”

>You just roll your eyes.

>”So, uhhh…hey. Just so you know, this place is probably the most exclusive club in Griffonstone. I don’t know who you’re meeting in there, but…”

>You tilt your head to the side. “But what?”

>Griz frowns. “Just be careful. There are lots of powerful griffons in there, and most won’t hesitate to use you for…well…bad purposes, if you catch my drift.”

>”Duly noted. Would you like to come in with me? Maybe you could point some of them out so I know what I’m dealing with.”

>”Ah, I’m afraid not.” Griz says with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think the management would be too pleased to see a griffon like me in their establishment. Besides, all that hoity-toity crap gives me a headache.”

>”Fair enough,” you murmur, masking your slight disappointment as best you can. “Thank you for everything tonight, Griz.”

>”Not a problem! Always fun to meet strangers.” Griz’s cheerful demeanor darkens somewhat. “I will be expecting compensation for my time tonight, though…”

>You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s your price?”

>She smiles devilishly. “Next time we meet, you’re buying all the drinks.”

>You laugh. “Sounds good. Do you go to the Golden Tap often?”

>She nods happily. “Yep! Pretty much every night. Swing on by sometime and we’ll see about my compensation.”

>”Will do, Griz. I’ll see you around.”

>”Bye, Anon! Good luck in there!”

>You wave goodbye as Griz turns and struts down the boulevard, looking utterly out of place among the well-dressed, classy crowd she’s walking among.

That's the first sequence done. Going to keep working tonight, but unsure if I'll get enough written to post more. Thanks for the patience if you're still reading, I'm finally feeling inspired and not so depressed and shit, so hopefully the pace seriously picks up.

>>163348

>I'm finally feeling inspired and not so depressed and shit

Relax brah, we're all gonna make it