"The Other Side" Chapter 21- Blood on The Plains (Part 2)

Dylan's body bent backwards as it followed his head. The punch slammed squarely into the front of his face, breaking his nose and a few teeth. He skidded away from the blow on his back, sliding backwards on the cobblestone street. He then did something he had not done before, nor had he ever thought he would do; he used the momentum carrying him backwards to flip his legs over his head. Once this was done, he used his arms to somersault him back onto his feet. He was just in time to watch as Tanning tried to slam his spear into his guts. He barely knocked the blow out of the way with the edge of his shield; the spearhead passed mere inches from his abdomen.

"Abomination!"

Tanning's word came like a dart, seeking to taunt and demoralize, and also out of sheer contempt.
Dylan wasn't the kind of man to be fazed by such insults. However, he was the man to counter them.

"I'm not the one with the ass-end of a lion!"

Dylan followed his insult by trying to crush Tanning's skull with his hammer. He brought his weapon slamming downwards onto the griffon warlord's shield instead. Tanning didn't stagger at all; in fact, he looked like he was barely fazed. He swung his spear around underneath Dylan's guard, ramming the tip into Dylan's calf. With a yelp and a snarl, Dylan smashed the shaft of Tanning's weapon to splinters and used the momentum of the strike to whirl around and strike his opponent. The blow made a rather large crater in Tanning's shield, almost knocking it from his grip. He hissed and drew his falchion, immediately trying to deliver a chop to Dylan's outstretched arm. Once again, Dylan barely stopped the blow, getting his shield into position at the last second.

The flurry of strikes that rained upon his defenses constantly kept Dylan guessing, coming from one direction and then another almost before he could react.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" Tanning screamed as he stepped out of the way of one of Dylan's hammer blows. The venom in his eyes met with the fire in Dylan's own.

"WHERE YOU'LL NEVER FIND HER!"

Dylan turned to the side with his shield still extended towards the blade-wielding maniac screaming at him. Once he had turned his body sideways, he twisted backwards, swinging his hammer with all the strength he could spare. The hammerhead smashed against Tanning's shield with a resounding thunderous boom. The head punched a hole clean through the reinforced iron front of the shield and splintered it like it was made of twigs. It flew from Tanning's hand, mangled and broken, landing in the street with a clatter. Tanning's reaction to this was a cry of anger and a savage blow that chopped a section of Dylan's shield to bits. The momentum of his swing made it hard for him to recover, making blocking Tanning's blows became increasingly difficult.

"Come on, filth! You'll wissssh you'd never crosssed with me!"

With every strike, Tanning's fury seemed to burn hotter, threatening to set his consciousness ablaze in a primal fury. Dylan's own mind knew full well what that fury was like; he had experienced its power firsthand. It could destroy men, families, communities, cities, nations and worlds... and he craved it.

With a surge of energy, Dylan charged into Tanning, ramming him with his shield. The griffon warlord flew through the air and crashed into the side of a house. Dylan ran forward, tossing away his shield to hold his hammer in a two-handed grip. He held it behind him, winding up his muscles to pulverize the griffon's head into red, meaty chunks.

"WE'LL SEE WHO'S FILTH WHEN THEY HAVE T' SCRAPE YA UP OFF TH' STREET!!!"

***

The sounds of something soft and heavy being dragged on stone could be heard throughout the hallway, as could the grunting of low, growling voices. A group of diamond dogs were pulling along three bodies, all of which were ponies. The floor behind them was red, and would probably have to be cleaned up by one of their fellows. One of the dogs pulling the male pony growled in frustration.

"How'd we get stuck with these, eh? I sure haven't got a fucking clue."

One of the dogs pulling along the smaller female gave a scornful look back down the hall towards where they had come from.

"Because those fecking shitstools in th' 'igh command thought we're not good 'nuf fer' fightin'."

"Well, fuck them. I say we give these two a right sendoff," The first dog said, gesturing to the two females.

"Rut a corpse? Now I see why ye got th' shit job," said the other one as he shook his head. "Ye're a crazy one."

"I'm not crazy, you damn mutt. It's not like we get any tail, is it? Our whores cost more for an hour than a weeks ale rations! I'd rather just get drunk off my ass than hand over me hard-earned coppers to those fucking pirates."

"Keep it down! They might hear us," another one of the dogs spoke up. He was one of the pair dragging the orange earth pony's body. "You don't want them using our balls for jewelry, do ya?"

"All a' you lot, shut yer' yaps," This came from the biggest dog of the bunch, who was almost singlehandedly pulling along the male, "or I'll feed ya to the damn troll." Almost immediately, the other dogs went completely silent.

The hall seemed to drag on forever, twisting and turning as they went. They had passed the mines and were heading deep into the heart of the enormous cave system that the fortress had been built in. The only sounds were of of the soft rustle of bodies being dragged on the floor, the click-clack of diamond dog paws, and labored breathing. The eeriness of the whole thing seemed to hang about them like a fog.

The fog was suddenly broken by the first dog, once again.

"We still gonna have some fun with the-"

He shut up when the big dog glared at him once again.

"If ya say that one more time, I'm gonna rip yer' cock off and shove it down yer' gizzard."

This last sentence made the first dog go pale. He began sweating profusely and trying not to look directly at the source of his fear.

The dogs walked for another minute before they came to a stop. Ahead of them was an heavy iron door with a small slit to look through. The biggest dog walked up to it and waved the scared-looking dog forward. He pulled a key off of the keyring that hung from his belt and handed it to him.

"Open the door."

"Why me?" the dog said with more than a hint of discomfort.

"Just fucking do it," the big dog growled. "Or I'll have the boys use ya for a bitch instead of the regular bunch."

The smaller dog swallowed and looked down at the key in his hands. It was covered in sweat from his sweaty, shaking hands. He looked back up at the door, then at the big mutt who had given him the key. He had drawn a heavy chopping blade from a sheath on his back, which he was now resting on one shoulder. He gave him a look which could've meant one of two things: Do it, or I'm going to rip you a new asshole if you don't hurry up. He assumed it was the latter. He nervously put the key into the lock and turned it. He was rewarded with the heavy ka-chunk sound of the mechanism opening inside.

The door swung open with a metallic groan which echoed through the hall and the cave on the other side of the door. Stalagmites and stalactites filled the rocky chamber beyond, along with many forms of fungi and a few crystals. The bottom of the cave was piled completely with rubbish and waste; anything that the dogs didn't need or no longer wanted and were unable to trade went here... along with other unsavory items, such as corpses. Broken and splintered wood, scraps of filthy cloth, rusted metal scraps, bones and rotting viscera sat in a giant pile some twenty feet high. It was as of some mad and bizarre architect had built the mound, such was the strangeness of it. The whole thing looked like a twisted fantasy, with pieces of twisted and jagged iron jutting out in random directions and odd patterns of bones sitting in the heap.

Both dogs stared into the cave, blinking as they adjusted from the torchlit hallway to the pitch black cavern's lack of light. The only light came from the orangish-yellow flames of the torches. The dog who had opened the door could've sworn he saw the darkness move. For a moment, it looked like the torches' glow reflected off something, and then stopped suddenly. The small dog yelped and jumped backwards, stumbling back against the wall of the tunnel. He scrabbled against it with his claws, trying to pull himself back away from what his fearful mind made ever more terrifying.

"Get the fuck in there," the big dog whispered, pushing him forwards with the side of his chopping blade. "Or maybe you'd like me to make good on my offer?"

The smaller dog swallowed and began to shake. "S-something moved in there," he said.

"So what if it did? Get a move on."

Reluctantly, the dog inched his way through into the chamber. On the outside of the door was a wooden platform braced onto the cave wall. It creaked and groaned as he stepped onto it, making him cringe nervously. The distance from the platform to the heap below was at least fifty feet. If the fall alone didn't kill, the rusted and wickedly sharp pieces of metal would. He moved slowly and warily towards the edge of the platform, looking in every direction. He drew a dagger from his belt and held it in a trembling paw.

"I d-d-don't s-see anything."

The smaller dog's statement was met with a spiteful, growling reply.

"Are ya' sure? Cause if yer' not..."

"I'm sure! I'm sure!"

With a grunt, the big dog shrugged, then gestured back to the one on the platform to come back.

"Let's get these poor dead fuckers innat' pit."

The small mutt scurried back to his comrades and began lifting the male. The male was the first to be carried through the doorway and onto the platform. His crushed and mangled skull dripped viscous fluid onto the platform. His black coat was covered in dust, dirt and shit from the hallway. Next through the doorway was the smaller female unicorn whose throat had been cut open to resemble a gross opening resembling a gill. The blood from the cut was mostly coagulated now; it had turned a dark blackish-red and hardened into grotesque rivulets that cascaded down her neck. Last onto the platform was the orange earth pony mare. She was a complete and utter mess. To describe the amount of brutality and pain that she had gone through would be excruciating, as would be her experience itself.

The sound of thousands of buzzing wings filled the ears of the dogs; the entire cavern was swarming with large black flies which picked at and crowded at every scrap of flesh in the pile of waste. They began to buzz about the three corpses, landing on them and quickly flying away as the other flies tried to stake their claims.

"Alright, then... off ye go, bitch," was what one of the dogs said as he pushed the unicorn off of the edge with his foot. The body rolled off the platform and spun limply through the air as it fell. The dog watched as she slammed into a greater part of a door. The door looked like a porcupine whose quills were rusty nails. The sound of the points being driven into flesh made him wince; it was as much a wince of enjoyment as sympathy. She lay there, stuck to the door in a gut-churning pose, twisted and broken.

"Were you aiming for that?" The big mongrel asked.

"Yes."

The largest dog turned and kicked the stallion off of the platform with a grunt. The amount of force he put into the kick sent the body sailing through the air at least half a dozen feet away from the platform. The stallion landed headfirst in a pile of broken stone bricks. With a wet, vomit-inducing smashing sound, his skull exploded, spilling his rancid brains over the cold grey bricks. The body bounced and continued its movement by rolling down the pile. It came to a rest against a large section of what appeared to be a moose's ribcage.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Damn, that's nasty!"

"Nice kick."

The big dog simply looked at the carnage he had caused and affixed his attention on the last body. The dog who had been sent out first onto the platform looked at her hesitantly.

"Do it."

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on, I gotta get something."

For some reason or another, the pony's hat still sat upon her head. It was covered in blood and sweat and it looked like it had been dragged through an abattoir. The grabbed with a sweaty paw and pulled it off her head. He put it on top of his own head and adjusted it.

"You done?"

The big mutt's scorn was completely evident in his voice and his face.

"Yeah."

With an unceremonious swing of his arm, the dog slapped the body of the straw-maned earth pony on her backside. He looked at his paw in a twisted, satisfied way. With a grin, he reached both hands under her.

"Have a nice trip."

He flipped the body off the platform, snickering maliciously to himself. The beaten, broken and bloodied corpse of Applejack fell towards the heap without a sound. Her body's punishment was not over yet, however; her dead, lifeless shell landed straight on a giant piece of twisted metal. The sound of the metal punching through equine muscle and bone echoed through the chamber with finality. Applejack was skewered some four feet down on the jagged spike, which was now a deep red in color. She lay there face up, her lifeless green eyes staring at the ceiling and her slack jaw hanging wide open. If there had been any doubt that she was dead, it was gone now.

***

It hungered. The warm silhouettes of six figures pulsed a swathe of different colors in its vision. Three colder, unmoving shapes also caught its attention. It moved one clawed limb after the other, climbing along the cave wall. It moved its long, serrated, spine-like tail from side to side slowly, fluidly coiling and sweeping it along behind itself. It tasted at the air with its forked black tongue, which slid from between it's teeth like a snake through a wall of knives. It blinked, focusing its dark predatory eyes on a new movement. The three motionless forms fell from the high ledge that the six heat silhouettes were standing on. It listened to their voices and bared its teeth, anticipating the taste of flesh and blood in its fanged maw.

A voice spoke into its mind in a tongue alien to it, but it understood the words.

M'tebch, sh'n ch'tuurl.

<Patience, my child.>

It calmed, letting out an almost inaudible hiss of air between its teeth. With a cold-eyed stare, it watched as the six figures went back to the blinding light of where they had come from. It twitched as it heard the sound of a heavy metal door slamming shut. The less noticeable sound of the lock sliding shut was not missed by it either. It adjusted its chitin-covered body into a pouncing position, opening it's jaws with a clacking sound as they dislocated, revealing a second row of massive fangs. It was not alone. It could see through the darkness of the cavern, and it waited just as the others waited. If there would have been a creature not of the unforgiving blackness to stare into the cave at this moment, they would have seen every single shadow across the entirety of the rocky cavern writhe and slither. Hundreds of cold, killing eyes would have stared right back.

One word passed through the consciousnesses of all of them like a wave.

/G'har./

<Feed.>

***

Canterlot Keep; the greatest known stronghold in all of Equestria, or that's what the masses were told. Whereas the city looked like a gleaming, beautiful treasure that brushed against the clouds, the fortress was much more practical and industrious in design. The eighty-foot stone walls surrounded an area forty square miles in size. The walls also stretched to either side of the mountain, blocking the roads upwards to the city. The whole of the battlement was filled with groups of soldiers holding banners and manning the massive weapons that sat on the wall's top. It lay at the bottom of the gargantuan, flat-faced cliffs which the city sat high upon. The main building of the keep itself towered above the rest. It was made up of many semicircular levels which appeared lay flat against the cliffs; in reality, they were built into the cliffs themselves, concealing a massive tunnel system and thousands of soldiers right under the city itself.

The waterfall which poured down from the capital city above fell directly to the center of the building. The keep was designed to funnel the water down through itself and feed it back to a river below; the design meant that if the falls were not dammed, the keep would have a constant and reliable source of fresh water. This meant that it could withstand constant siege and the soldiers would not suffer from dehydration. Dying as your insides dried out and your throat turned to ash in your hands was not a pleasant way to die. The keep also had a number of farms scattered among its grounds. The farmers who owned these farms had served the royal family for many generations, bringing in crop after crop of food to keep the soldiers and guards of the fortress well nourished. The keep also had a large structure of steel and glass that stood in the shape of an angular, four-pointed pyramid; the herb gardens. The herb gardens housed hundreds of exotic, chemically-rich and medicinal plants which the keep's healers and alchemists used to great effect.

The hundreds of barracks lining the inside of the wall lay empty. In a normal day, they would have seen constant use; normally, no one dared to attack an Equestrian settlement out of fear of retaliation. Canterlot keep was a suicidal target for all but the most determined, strong and well-trained invaders. The reason for the barracks' emptiness was as obvious as the sun in the sky; every last soldier stood in the massive courtyard in the center of Canterlot Keep.

An entire Equestrian legion stood inside the courtyard, still as stone. The banners and cloaks of the legion all blew in the wind, rustling loudly. A thousand polished sets of armor glinted in the afternoon sun. Every last set of eyes was locked on the tall, graceful female form that towered high above on a level of the keep.

Gold and diamond; that was what made up the armor that she wore. It caught the rays of the blazing sun above, casting a shining radiance about her already radiant form. A pair of gold-etched blades sat in sheaths built into the armor itself. Upon her head sat a many-edged helmet from which erupted a sunburst of golden spikes, forming a halo of razor-sharpness around her. The helmet made ample room for the foot-long horn that extended skywards from the top of her skull. An aura of magic seemed to pulse out from around its tip like a helix of light and fire.

The figure's body moved lithely and powerfully, as if it was filled with a great purpose. Every muscle rippled and tensed as it carried her forwards. She stopped when she came to the edge, standing high above the thousands of soldiers below. The look of determination and anger on her face spoke louder than any drawn blade.

Princess Celestia spoke.

"My soldiers, today I have received terrible news. Our nation is under attack from those who would seek to cause naught but ruin for our people."

She did not speak in a yell, but somehow her voice carried bold and clear throughout the entire legion below. Every last ear turned to listen, taking in every last word she uttered.

"The town of Ponyville is under siege."

A few among the hundreds of ranks of soldiers below audibly flinched. It was obvious where they were from. The looks of horror, worry, shock and denial on their faces told their princess all she needed to know.

"I know many of you have families, friends and homes in Ponyville. I myself have a very close student of mine there now. It was she who sent me this dark news."

A figure beside the princess seemed to stare in shock with his jaw open, his eyes wide in fear. The commander of the royal guard looked like a ghost. His eyes looked in the direction of the town many miles away. Shining Armor never thought his sister would be in that any kind of danger in Ponyville; He was obviously wrong.

"We march to Ponyville. We will show these invaders the full might of Equestria!"

Thousands cheered, raising their spears in the air and stomping their hooves. They chanted once again, drowning out all other sound. One pony did not cheer, and it was obvious who it was. Shining Armor's heart felt like it was made of lead. He could barely whisper his next words.

"Sister... Be safe... Please..."

***

(Guardians of Freedom- GRV Music)

Twilight Sparkle was /not/ safe. The battle raged around her. All that she could make out was a whirling, roiling mass of blades and bodies. Rainbow Dash stood beside her, fighting with a large griffon with an axe. She dodged blow after blow, nimbly ducking and weaving between each swing of her enemy's weapon. As he was recovering from a stroke, she thrust the blade of her short sword deep into his guts. With a cry of pain, he lurched, his spine straightening as he tried to retaliate. Rainbow Dash blocked the blow with her shield and pulled her sword free. Before the warrior could chop at her again, she swung her blade upwards in a slashing motion. The edge of the blade cut deep into the griffon's skull just between his visor. He fell, dead.

Twilight herself faced off against a pair of diamond dogs. They both rushed forwards, barking war cries. She barely knocked away a spear thrust with her sickle-blade that would have gone right through her breast. The other dog took his chance to try and knock her head clean off her shoulders with a large mace. He swung wildly, missing her completely and making himself stumble. Twilight kicked out, catching the off-balance dog's leg. He tripped and slammed into the ground with a grunt, frantically trying to scrabble to his feet. His comrade stabbed at Twilight again, this time without being intercepted. The spear's tip pierced Twilight's thigh, below the hip. She cried out in pain and slashed at her attacker. The blow scratched along the side of his helmet, tearing a gash along his ear. A growled curse was how the dog responded to Twilight's blade cutting into his flesh.

"WHORE BITCH!"

The dog swung his spear sideways at her, but he was too close for the spear's head to slice his target; instead, the haft just under the head slammed into Twilight's ribs. She gritted her teeth in pain as she felt one of them break. With a yell of exertion, she swung her other hoof at him. Her strike slammed into the dog's snout with surprising force for a pony of Twilight's size and occupation. Apparently the librarian hit harder than she looked like she could. As he reeled backwards, Twilight cut the dog's throat open with her sickle. The warrior clutched at his throat and watched her as he fell to the ground, bleeding to death in seconds.

The other dog stood up and rushed her, determined on stoving her head in with his mace. He never got that far. A red-coated blade exploded out the front of his chest with a wet thuck noise. He froze in place with his weapon raised above his head. The blade disappeared back where it came from. With a gasp, the dog turned to try and strike at his new attacker. It was obvious that he was dead; the blade had pierced vital organs. Rather than bleed out slowly like his comrade, his head was severed from his shoulders in a spray of arterial fluid.

Rainbow Dash nodded to Twilight, flourishing her blade, flinging droplets of the dog's blood to the stones. Her face was full of victorious confidence. She started to smile, but her expression changed to one of horror. Countless griffons and diamond dogs poured into the street from behind the rear ranks. Ponies were dying left and right, no match for trained and well-equipped soldiers.

The sounds of Derpy's calls for help were drowned out by another sound; Dylan's primal scream of anger.

***

He went at Tanning snarling and screaming, swinging his hammer with all the force he could muster. The griffon warlord flinched and brought his arm up towards the blow. Luckily for him, it was his stone arm that he moved to stop the attack. With a deafening slamming noise, Tanning flew backwards, flipping over and over again as he skidded across the ground. He slammed into an overturned cart and lay still. His head was smashed up, bruised and broken in places. His beak seemed to tilt to one side and his tongue lolled out. The blood pouring out of his face shrouded his features like a red veil.

Dylan walked towards Ditzy Doo, moving his hammer into a loose one-handed grip. A trio of griffons stood in his way, forming a wall of shields in front of the fallen pony. Before they could even react, he charged, swinging his hammer overhead at the warrior in the center. The blow crushed the griffon's shield like it wasn't even there. As his comrades started to move to attack him, Dylan sidestepped and used his momentum to slam the hammer's spike deep into the second warrior's chest. The point punched straight through the griffon's chainmail and into his heart, killing him instantly. Before his body could hit the ground, Dylan pulled up his knee and kicked the limp body of the warrior into the first griffon like a missile. The armored projectile smashed into him like a bullet, knocking him to the ground. The third griffon swung his three-headed flail at Dylan's skull. Before the griffon could even blink, his human opponent ducked right underneath the three spiked heads whirling towards his head. The griffon brought the weapon swinging around again. Without warning, Dylan darted out with his free hand and grabbed the three chains in a fist. With a spinning, crouching motion, he brutally swung the griffon by his own weapon, bringing him crashing down on the cobblestone street. The griffon landed headfirst with enough force to flatten his skull against the stones in a bloody mess. His last living comrade rushed towards his killer and thrust his sword at the blood-drenched monstrosity.

It caught the blade in its hand. The sword's edge cut into the flesh of the creature's hand, spilling its dark red blood to the ground. Tendons, muscle and bone could be seen where the blade had sliced through, but the aberration didn't even flinch. The griffon tried to pull it free, but it was useless. He instead released his grip on his sword and pulled out a short hatchet. He struck out at it with a heavy-handed chop, but the blow was knocked clear by the thing's hammer. The thing tossed his sword a few inches into the air and caught it as it flipped around so that the grip was now in its hand. It shot him a demonic smile as it lunged toward him. He yelled as he moved to block the sword's thrust with his axe. He wasn't quick enough. He felt the cold, painful feeling of steel at the back of his throat. In his final moment of mortal life, he looked down to see the blade of his sword covered in his own blood as it protruded from his open beak. The griffon fell backwards, dead. Dylan released his grip on the sword, watching as the body fell backwards with the sword still coming out the back of his head. The blade stuck into the ground, propping up the warrior in a morbid and unnatural position. The corpse limply released its grip on its axe, letting them it to the ground. He stared at the wide, white eyes of the dead soldier for a moment, before he turned to face Ditzy Doo. The rage of battle faded halfway from his face; the fight wasn't over yet.

"You okay?"

"Y-yes, I'm a-all r-right,"
The grey pegasus responded with a hint of fear in her voice. "but please get this off of me!"

Dylan looked at the stone in question. It appeared to have crushed of Ditzy's legs, which was twisted and broken in an odd angle. He lay down his hammer and bent down, clutching the sides of the rock in both hands.

"I don't think that's how you move- Watch out!"

(Vendetta- GRV Music)

Dylan whirled to see the snarling figure of Tanning swinging his fist once again into his face. With an explosion of pain, he stumbled backwards, slamming into the side of the shopfront just behind where Derpy was pinned.

"YOU /FUCK/! WHERE ISSSSS SSSSHEEEEEE?!?!"

Dylan barely dodged Tanning's other hand; he jerked his head out of the way at the last moment. His face was broken and smashed; he shouldn't have even been alive. Tanning's punch should have shattered his skull like an eggshell, but he was still alive and kicking. The talons of the warlord carved a trio of deep furrows into the wall where Dylan's head had been a second before. Dylan didn't respond with any rational type of thought; instead, he roared at the top of his lungs and slammed into the crazed griffon with all his might. He hooked one hand around Tanning's knock and began slamming punch after punch into Tanning's gut. The thick plate armor on the warlord's abdomen buckled under the superhuman force of the blows. Tanning countered by elbowing Dylan in the face and kicking him away. Dylan looked like one of the barbarians of old; he was wild, frenzied, unkempt and devoid of all self-control. As he stumbled back, he shrugged off his coat and jacket to reveal the bloodstained undershirt underneath.

What Dylan didn't see was the group of griffons and diamond dogs coming up the street to help Tanning. One of them reached to his back and pulled a javelin from a the leather quiver that sat there. He pulled his arm back and then whipped it forwards with practiced speed, hurling the throwing spear at the human fighting with his captain. The projectile whistled past Dylan's ear and smashed through a shop window, scattering jagged shards of glass to the street. With a shout, Tanning cursed his soldier.

"YOU FOOL! I WANT-"

Before the enraged griffon could finish speaking, Dylan leaned forwards and then backwards in rapid succession, slamming his wicked uppercut into the underside of Tanning's jaw. Tanning stumbled back, groaning in pain and shutting his eyes for a moment. He opened them to see an airborne Dylan spinning as he leaped upwards. He extended his leg at the last second, slamming the back of his foot into the side of Tanning's skull. The warlord's head spun violently to the side, scattering blood and spit from his open beak to the dusty stones.

His warriors charged, brandishing blade and spear at the battered human. As they ran at him, he bent his legs at the knees and hunched his shoulders, coiling like a spring. With a feral snarl, he released all the tension in his body and launched himself forwards with all his strength. As he hurtled through the air, he reached down with his arms and pulled his feet backwards. The motion flipped him end over end as he sailed over the heads of the warriors below. He landed on his feet directly behind them, bending his knees to absorb the shock of the landing.

The rearmost warrior turned with a look of shock in his eyes just before Dylan slammed the point of his elbow into the space between them. With a hollow cracking sound, the griffon's body fell over backwards. The other warriors were still trying to slow themselves to a halt; the momentum of their charge made it difficult to stop quickly. The next warrior was a diamond dog, who tried to carve a large chunk out of Dylan with his sword. The blow stopped mid-swing; a large human hand clutched the arm of the dog just above the wrist. The dog's eyes widened in fear just as Dylan grabbed him by the throat and slammed the back of his armored head against a shop wall three times. The reason for his slack face was undeniably the flattened back of his helmet, which was depressed several inches inwards, which further meant that his skull was as well. The red seeping out from between the space of the dog's helmet trickled down Dylan's arm. The disturbing thing about his arm was that it appeared larger, more muscular and hairier. The tips of his fingers seemed as if they sprouted claws, not nails.

With a bellowing roar, Dylan hurled the corpse of the diamond dog over his head at the nearest warrior: a griffon who had thought running straight at his opponent was a good idea. The body crashed into his shield with enough force to shatter it; the planks of the shield barely hung from iron bands and bracings that held it together. The warrior was knocked backwards into the warrior behind him, who stumbled and then shoved him out of the way. The rest of the griffons flinched slightly, but held their ground against the oncoming six-and a half foot tall barbarian. They thrust out with their spears at him as he ran at them, taking cover behind their wall of shields. The tips of their spears slammed into his flesh, but the hulking form of Dylan didn't even seem to acknowledge the damage. With a sweep of his arm, he shattered the weapons' shafts like they were toothpicks. The griffons dropped their ruined arms to the ground and drew axe, sword and dagger from their belt to finish what they had started.

They were not the ones to finish it.
Dylan punched through the first warrior's shield and grabbed him by the throat. The one next to him attempted to hack him to pieces with an axe. He did not. With a roar, Dylan swung the warrior that he had by the neck into the path of the axe. The blade of the weapon cut right through the chainmail on the warrior's back and into his spine. The griffon shrieked as the other warrior pulled his axe from his flesh, his eyes darting towards the sky for a moment. He looked back down at Dylan and started to try and stab with his sword, but the Celt snapped his neck with a twitch of his hand. He threw the body off to the side and ducked under another blow from the axe-warrior. The pounding of his bloodthirsty heart seemed to fill Dylan's ears, as did the sound of his deep, guttural breathing. A moment after the strike sailed over his head, he swung his clawed hand up and under the griffon's arm. The vicelike grip of his fingers wrapped around the soldier's forearm, just as his foot moved behind the griffon's own lion-clawed foot. Dylan bent the leg that he had behind the griffon and threw him to the ground, releasing his grip on his arm. He turned full-circle and brought his other foot down on the griffon's face with a moist cracking noise. He dodged a slash from a sword and brought his clawed hand right across its wielder's throat, ripping it out mercilessly.

He was like a whirling, snarling machine of death now. Even weaponless, he killed as easily as he breathed. The blood of dozens of those he had killed already could never slake the thirst for violence that had lived in his heart all his life. All the betrayal, all the cruelty, , all the lies, all the greed, all the darkness, and all the rage of humanity had made him into something worse than they. One after the other, they fell to his hands. But it was not enough; they kept coming.

***

Looking down the sight of her crossbow through the open window of a house, Rarity narrowed her eyes in contempt. The diamond dog she was aiming it at had just cut down a pair of ponies like they were nothing. His sword was clutched tightly in his paws, dripping with the blood of those who he had just slain. He turned and looked like he was about to start running at another of the townsfolk when Rarity pulled the crude trigger-bar of her crossbow. The narrow-tipped bolt punched right through the leather cuirass that he was wearing, embedding itself deep in his chest. The dog sputtered, fell onto his knees and looked at the projectile lodged in his chest. He whimpered pathetically as he fell forward onto his face among the corpses clogging the street. Rarity had already put her hoof down on the metal brace on the front of the weapon and begun pulling back the string to its ready position. She swung the crossbow back up and levitated a bolt into the groove on the top of the weapon. She sighted another target and fired. She barely got out of the way as a javelin flew at her through the window and stuck into the wall behind her.

"You'll have to do better than that!"

An answer to her taunt came seconds later: The sound of three armored griffon warriors flying up and landing on the edge of the window. The first one leapt through the opening and raised his sword behind his head.

"Oh, buck."

The griffon swung his sword down and to the side, aiming to make himself a trophy of Rarity's head. She barely escaped the deadly edge of the blade, which passed through the top of her mane like an icy cold breeze. Strands of her indigo hair drifted lazily down to the floorboards, floating on an unseen current of air. Rarity jumped out of the way of another chop of the warrior's sword, dropping her crossbow and drawing a dagger from her hip with a flash of magic. The dagger shot upwards to block another blow, then spun in midair and lunged forwards. The sword-griffon ducked behind his shield as the dagger stabbed at him unsuccessfully. His two comrades vaulted over the windowsill and into the room, readying their weapons to strike. Rarity searched for another weapon as her dagger continued to attack the first griffon. The other two circled around him and made their way towards the lone unicorn, glaring at her with all the sharpness of two pairs of razor blades.

"All alone now, bitch," one of them said with a grin, "and no one's gonna save ya."

Rarity backed away, her deep, watery eyes darting around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. Before she could find anything, the griffon lunged forward, swinging a spiked mace at her. She barely ducked out of the way. The swing smashed into a large bookshelf, shattering part of it and spilling a large amount of books and papers onto the floor. Rarity narrowed her eyes in anger and lowered her head.

"I don't need anyone to save me!"

She charged headfirst into the griffon, letting out a yell of fury as she slammed into him. Her horn punched through his armor and into his ribs, lancing through layers of bone and muscle. She pulled her horn free from the griffon and slammed her forehooves into the sides of his helmet in a rain of blows. The hole where her horn had pierced was spilling a torrent of blood, and it was obvious that the warrior wouldn't be standing for long. He rammed into her with his shield, knocking her backwards into the wall. A scream of anger blasted from his open beak as he swung the mace again. This time Rarity was not so lucky; the head smashed one of her front legs viciously, breaking the bones at the upper part of the leg. She screamed in pain, kicking out defensively at his abdomen. He slammed into a desk against the opposite wall and slid onto his back on top of it. Without hesitation, Rarity ran towards him and pulled a bolt from her quiver. As he was trying to stand, she slammed the tip of the bolt downwards through the eyeslit of his helmet. The griffon twitched and went limp, falling in a heap to the floor.

The first griffon through the window was no longer blocking strikes from the floating dagger; Rarity had already lost her concentration and the dagger lay unmoving on the floor. He charged the unicorn, yelling a curse in the griffon language. Rarity's front leg hung limp from her side, dangling uselessly. Her other arm reached down and grabbed the mace from the dead griffon. As the warrior charging her stabbed out with his blade, she knocked it to the side with the mace's haft. She knew that she would die; she knew she wouldn't be able to hold off the pair of warriors. She could feel the strength leaving her with each swing she took.

The other griffon moved in, raising his hammer to crush the pony's skull. He grinned and opened his beak.

"Say your prayers, whore," The griffon said, "because no one's listening."

He started to swing his hammer around, his beak open in an expression of murderous glee. Before he could finish, a earthshaking roar sounded from outside, followed by a tremendous amount of screaming and a crash of stone on metal. He stopped mid-swing and turned to look in the direction of the clamor of death. Rarity screamed angrily, swinging the mace weakly at the distracted griffon's shield.

"You'll never take me alive! Come on and finish it, you filthy dirt munchers!"

He hissed in anger, stopping the blow with his shield. His comrade kicked Rarity in the stomach, sending her sprawling to the paper-strewn floor. The hammer-griffon stepped forward, raising his weapon one final time against the downed unicorn. He swung it downwards at her with a cry of rage, using every last ounce of energy to try and smash her into a gory pulp.

The sound of death filled the room with a grim finality. The hammer griffon stood with his arms low, his eyes locked on the unicorn's body. The white cost of the mare was spattered with red, and from her eyes emanated the greatest fear and surprise that the griffon had ever seen. She stared right at him not believing what she saw. The thousand-yard stare she was giving him seemed to pierce his soul like a knife. Death hung in the air like a ghost, eerie and cold. The unicorn let out a long, terrified breath as she looked at him.

Suddenly, it swept over him like a chill; he felt the icy fingers of pain snaking their way up the inside of his skull. With a soul-breaking feeling of terror, he realized what truly was; it was his blood covering the body of the unicorn. His blow never struck her.The griffon looked down in horror. He saw the curved, vicious claws bursting through his guts like massive knives of chitin. A deep, guttural growling came from behind him, followed by a roar. He could barely react as massive fanged jaws bit down on the sides of his skull, biting through the bone and splitting his head open like a nut. The jaws released their grip on the dead griffon's skull, letting the corpse drop limply from their clutches. The other griffon stared in horror as clawed feet moved across the floor with slow and deliberate intent, tearing deep gashes in the wooden boards. A deep voice rumbled from between teeth like daggers, splitting the air with terrifying clarity.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HER."

The griffon ran forwards the monstrosity, swinging his sword with all the force he could muster. The thing didn't even try to stop the attack. The blade skittered along its skin with all the lethality of a butter knife.

"BIG MISTAKE."

With one hand, the giant beast caught the sword's blade on its next swing. With a flick of its wrist, it broke the sword like a child's toy. With the other, it ripped away the shield from the griffon's talons. The warrior still desperately fought on, trying to stab at it with his broken sword. The jagged, broken point bit into the thing's chest; unfortunately for the griffon, it went less than an inch deep.

With fire in its eyes, the monstrous being picked up the warrior by the front of his armor and lifted him up into the air. The beast and the griffon locked eyes; the griffon's were horrified and uncomprehending, whilst the eyes of the monstrosity seemed to flash and burn like an inferno, full of violence and wildness. The fire in its eyes seemed to explode from its open jaws as it roared. Flames as hot as the rage inside the thing's heart washed over the head of its prey. The screams of the griffon died out in seconds as the flesh on his skull turned to ash. With a growl, it tossed the charred remains of the griffon away, scowling at the corpse like nothing more than a piece of garbage.

Rarity couldn't believe her eyes. The hulking, clawed, monstrous beast standing above her tossed the griffon's body aside like a doll, such was its size and strength. Tendrils of smoke still drifted from between its teeth like coal-black serpents, twisting through the air erratically. It blinked, turning towards her.

"RARITY, IT'S ME."

It walked closer to her and looked down with eyes that seemed to remember her... feel her... know her... /love her/...

"S-Spike?!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE

GOT YOU AGAIN! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh... and one more thing...

XENOMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPHS!