“Two years before I arrived in the Courts of the Eastern Kingdom, I had lost my way after a rather dangerous crossing of the Crystal Mountains. After closer inspection I found that there was very little crystal to be had. The cold however was horrendous, the blood becoming slate in my veins. After three days I found the road again, only this lead to a much different realm than I had ever come across. In great stone villages atop cliffs that looked over miles lived the griffons. These were hardy folk, although they had the personality depth of marble. When I arrived I was greeted by no less than a hundred spears, not that I was counting.

“They brought me to their king, the great and noble Lord Swiftclaw. His wings were three times the span of my own Pegasi wings, his beak able to rip a mares head clean off. I greeted him as politely as I could, my words holding some sway over his simple mind. He gave me food, even if it was tasteless, and gave me a bed for the night. In the morning I would be gone, heading to the far East where the wind seemed to be travelling.

“That was the plan, but it seemed that fate a had some other plan in store for me. A rival clan, the Grimfeathers, declared war upon the Clan Swiftclaw. In the morning we were greeted by hundreds of heavily armed and very pissed griffon troops. I fought to survive, seizing a spear from the wall I rushed to flee the Household before I became part of Clan Warfare. Well, it unfortunately wasn't going to be that simple. You see the chief of the Grimfeathers has this pet which he calls The Reaper. Little did I know that Twinkle was in fact a young Ursa Minor, and a grumpy one at that. Despite its premature size it ripped through stone and cliff like cardboard.

“What was I to do? The mountain was surrounded by attacking forces, the Cliffside assaulted by an Ursa Minor. Not by wing or hoof did I have a chance to escape, so I did what any sane pony wound do.

“I charged in anyway, more specifically the Ursa Minor. If I could out manoeuvre its claws and teeth the there was a window of chance. Back then I was quick, agile, a brilliant flyer. Oh you should have seen me. But then I took a betting from an Ursa Minor, sending me sprawling from the fight. My wings felt pulverised after his paw came into contact with them. The pain was unimaginable, which has only proved to make me stronger.

“Despite my injuries I stood back on my hooves, drawing my bone dagger. I charged at the creatures feat, dodging its sweeping attacks and coming up under its belly. I lept up as high as I could and stabbed my dagger deep into the beasts torso. Oh did he real in pain, sending me flying backwards once again. He was mad now and I would have been a goner right there and then.

“But a cunning pony does not leave everything to chance, and I was no exception." From his cloak Azzal drew forth a small dagger, no longer than 15 inches at most. It was carved from bone with a variety of tribal markings etched in a decorative design. "A pretty thing, isn't it. A dagger carved from the tooth of a basilisk. I found it's body lying deep in the northern gorges, prying one of its teeth from its gaping jaw. What felled the beast I cannot say, but it must have been mighty powerful and mighty stupid to stand up to the guardian of the deep. The venom on a basilisk tooth is lethal. But a scratch from the tip could paralyse you, a blow to the heart instant death. While I have carried many bladed weapons in my time, none can compare with the lethality of this dagger."

“Now where was I? Ah yes, the great beast began to roar loudly, flailing its arms and legs around madly. Homes and cliffs were shattered in its rage, rocks tumbling down and crushing any who were unfortunate enough to be caught under them. Only by sheer luck did I avoid being crushed to death. The beast soon came crashing down on his back with an almighty crash. The only issue it seems with large targets is that it takes a lot more than just one small dagger to outright kill them. I simply retrieved the devil and ran, not stopping to check if it was actually dead or possibly just unconscious. Heck, it could still be out there somewhere. Isn't that a curious thought?

“And so I ran, and I ran far. Once I was out of breath I began to examine my injured wings. They were broken in many places but they would mend soon enough with the proper care. I was no medic and I was only able to get them looked at when I found a small fishing town. Good ponies, tried to kill me after a couple of days, but still they were good ponies none the less.

“And that’s that tale from beginning to end. Mind you I did leave out a few small things, a few minor details. I guess they don't really affect it too much. Although there was the issue I had with Swiftclaw’s daughter. Ha, good times. Now It may be best for all of you to retire for the evening. Already it has grown very late and the sun will not wait for you to get a proper rest. It never has. Be off with you all.”

Slowly but surely all his troops began to disperse back to their assigned tents. None of them spoke for some time, but they were in a better mood after Azzal’s story, no matter how much of it was true or not. That was one thing you could never guarantee; the reliability of the story teller. Azzal was certainly not one to be trusted lightly, a rather unpleasant character when he chose to be, but he had a certain way of appearing light hearted and opening when he chose to. Many fell for his small act, but not Sil Ran.

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