Every species he had encountered so far had reacted differently to him. The deer had worshipped him. Or at least they had brought bananas as an offering, which was, when one considered that they were perceived as a rare delicacy, quite an honour. In contrast, the camels had treated him the way you’d expect: neutral and bored. Maybe they had also been simply uninterested. They hadn’t cared for what he was, only what he had to tell. As a travelling culture, stories were valued, and since Thiemo had a respectable knowledge of film and television, he had more than enough to pay for food and drink. The zebras had examined him curiously. They took samples of his hair, his skin, and even his saliva. As they made moves toward taking even more, he had ended the testing, leaving the zebras unsatisfied. They were masters of alchemy and were always exploring new ingredients for their potions. An unknown being meant a lot of combination possibilities, meaning the samples got burned, cooked, crushed, and what not.

Then there were the griffons. He might have never been to their land, but he had heard them being described as militant folks. Easily enraged, hard to calm, and always out for a fight. These rumours had been confirmed when he met them the first time. Back then, he didn't have Aura at his side. Some of these gryphons had been hunting in the steppes of Zebrecia when their eagle eyes had spotted him. They had been curious, but not interested in what kind of creature they had before them, no. They had only desired to taste the flesh of a foreign creature. So Thiemo had found himself, together with three warriors of the zebra tribe who had accompanied him, in a fight against five gryphons. They had expected resistance - all of them were armed - but they couldn’t have known that the youngest warrior had been a shaman trained in the arts of magic. Fire, earth, wind, and water were her weapons and the gryphons her targets. It would save the day, and he learned that although gryphons, when struck by lightning, may smell like chicken, they didn’t taste as good.

The second encounter with gryphons had happened during the passage from Zebrecia to the small island of Dragmire. The look-out on the ship had been a gryphon and stereotypically unfriendly. Not that, until today, there ever had been one who wasn’t. Said look-out had tried to get a piece of him, literally, for some kind of weird delicacy, since rare meat was more precious. He had challenged Thiemo in all kinds of games and bets. Anyway, he had been pretty insulted and felt like his pride or honour or whatever had been hurt when Thiemo had declined all his challenges.

When the ship had crossed halfway, he came to the conclusion that when wielding his sabre, nobody could stop him from taking what he wanted, and so he had threatened Thiemo. In the end, Thiemo had been forced to accept the challenge, but he had insisted on choosing the game. An old trick which no one in his world with at least a tiny bit of sanity would fall for. Unfortunately for the griffon, he hadn’t known that trick. So they had played a round of 'I drink my five beer jugs faster than you drink your ten shots', the wager being one of his arms against all his opponents’ bits - he had somehow found out that every country accepted the same form of currency in this world. The most important rule of the game was that one could not touch the glasses of the other or move the table in any way.

Stupid as the gryphon was, he had agreed. Since there had been no beer around, he had to drink salt water instead, but that hadn’t mattered to either of the two. Sure of his victory, the gryphon had started to drink and emptied his fourth shot when he found a jug standing on the fifth. As he was then unable to drink all his shots, Thiemo had taken his time to finish his jugs and thus won the game and the bits. Sadly for him, gryphons weren’t the best losers. Thiemo wasn't either, but that wouldn't cause him to hurt the shoulder of the winner with his claws. The gryphon had spent the remaining passage in a small cabin under deck as did Thiemo since he had to heal his wounds. At least he had made some money.

His last time meeting gryphons had been in Boardor; Pretuskria to be exact. It was the capital of the empire ruled by a dictator. His visit to the city had lasted longer than he had anticipated, as his face, or something else about him, hadn’t appealed to the gryphons hired as mercenaries, so they had just locked him in the dungeon. A month of eating strange mushroom soup, a bit of torture, and harassment until he got an audience with the regent. Said regent gave him the opportunity to buy himself free for a mite, consisting of only half of his belongings. Luckily, they had no interest in his old staff he had kept since the beginning of his journey, but one thing he had learned in all of those encounters was that gryphons only fought with two things: their claws and their beak. By doing so, they tried to defend their vital areas like wings and their rather weak ribcage.

This knowledge helped him now as he dodged the thrown bottle, which was shortly followed by the claw. Thiemo quickly placed his hand into his other and let them crash into the head of the gryphon. The confused gryphon bowed his head in pain while Thiemo shoved his knee upwards as compensation.

One would expect birds and birdlike creatures to have hollow bones. Sadly, this didn't apply to gryphons. His hands and knees cracked under the force of the hit while his opponent fell down, unconscious.

“Gah! I'll still feel that next week," he spat out in pain. Completely perplexed, the remaining audience stared at the stranger who jumped with one leg on point while holding his hand and whining like a foal, even though he had just knocked out a gryphon. No one had expected that, although for different reasons. The barkeeper was smart enough to not piss off the most intelligent predators of Albion, and that was basically the reason for the gryphons' confusion as well. Who was stupid enough to attack them? They were the most warrior-like race on the planet and naturally supreme to the naturally weak ponies, zebras, or any other species. "Goddammit, anyone got an ice bag?” Thiemo finally asked, still rubbing his hand and sympathizing with his knee. The old stallion was the first one to react.

“Yeah, umm... sure. I'll be right back,” he said as he left for the backroom to get an ice bag and an aid chest. The stranger surely would need it soon enough. In front of Thiemo, the remaining two were still standing without moving a muscle, their wide open mouths gaping at the knocked out gryphon, who seemed to be their leader.

“Anyone else? I’m sick of you thinking you can do with me whatever you want.” His look jumped from one to the other until one of them shook his head. “Good, then get your friend and piss off. And by the way, you owe me two bits for my cider.”

Without further ado, they obeyed and dashed over to their friend, pulling him over the ground and out of the bar. The one nearer to him let two coins fall on the ground before they disappeared through the exit. As the door closed, Thiemo released the breath he held in. He knew that he was more than just lucky. If the remaining gryphons hadn’t been so dumb, he wouldn’t have had a chance. At least, not without his staff. Keeping two claws and a beak in his field of view was doable, but four claws and two beaks with just two eyes were way more challenging.

“I got the... ice.” The barkeeper returned, and in his hoof, he held an old rag wrapped around several ice cubes. He stopped when he saw only his customer all alone without a trace of the gryphons. Thiemo took the bag and sat himself on a smaller table which had just the right height for him to sit properly, placing the ice on his knee. Onto the ice he added his right hand so that both injured body parts were treated at the same time.

“Thanks. I hope you don’t mind that I use a table for sitting.” The stallion shook his head and searched the room confusedly, wondering whether the gryphons had just pulled a bad joke on him.

“Where are the gryphons?” Not that it would bother him to not be robbed of his remaining stock since he heavily doubted that they had planned to pay. Thiemo only pointed at his mouth and grinned.

“Ate them for lunch.” His sarcasm was obvious for anyone who saw. But quite frankly, he didn’t care what the stranger did to them. He paid, and his furniture was unharmed.

“Well then I hope they tasted good to you, boy." Thiemo liked the old stallion for playing along with the joke.

“Nah, I don’t like that kind of poultry at all. Spreads bad karma.” Not that he believed in a concept as karma, but it was the best explanation for the trouble that accompanied his very existence. “So, how much was the room again?”

“Ten bits for the three days, depending on the arrival of the train. Deal?” He went through the offer in his head. For the first night, he had already paid three bits, excluding breakfast or any other kind of service.

“Breakfast inclusive?” The old stallion put a hoof on his chest and faked a heart attack.

“Are you trying to ruin me?” Both laughed briefly before they went back to business. “But I like your style, so deal.” He took his hand off the ice bag and pulled out eight golden coins and pushed them with the two from the gryphon onto the bar.

“Here, oh and another cider; the last one went down the drain.” He pulled out another two coins and counted with his hand how many he had left, guessing a little more than thirty bits. All in all, not that bad, but far from a fortune.

The barkeeper brought up another bottle and moved the two additional bits back.

“This one’s on the house. But I have a question. Who are you, and more importantly, what? I have seen many creatures come through these doors but never something like you. No offence.” Thankfully, he took the money and leaned over the bar.

“Sure you can handle the truth?” The old stallion only responded with a tired laugh as he grabbed a glass and started to clean it. “I am the horror flapping through the night. I am the most persistent stain at the bottom of every glass. I am Darkwing.” The barkeeper didn’t really care, only humming his acknowledgement and saying nothing anymore. “What? No shivering? No panicked attempts to escape?

“When you are this long in this business, you recognize a lie when you hear one. So if you don’t want to tell me who you are, I won’t push you to it any further.” With newfound respect for the old geezer, he nodded and started again.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you because not all of that was a lie. You ponies have some horrifying stories over my kind. I am what you call a human.” Immediately, the barkeeper stopped cleaning the glass, and with a raised eyebrow, he looked up to him.

“And I thought with my age I would have seen everything," he mumbled and had himself a better look at Thiemo. “And what is your name, young lad?”

“Sorry, but my real name is a secret. I know that there are not many humans here in Albion, but I want to keep some anonymity. Nobody has to know which human was here, right? If you want to give me a name, try Lucky Luke.” That was the first name he had in mind when he spotted this western town, as it looked just like one from the comics, a town that appeared as though it was taken out of one. He had only heard tales of other humans or vague suggestions that someone had seen one. Some information seemed to be older than him; that was why he was curious whether they were still alive. Other stories had been so twisted, since they were passed from mouth to mouth, that identifying a human in it was hard.

“And your small companion?” Thiemo glanced at the stairs, sighed, and lowered his shoulders, shifting his weight on the bar.

“Jolly Jumper? Ran into my arms some time ago. I had to take care of her, didn’t I?” Of course, the bartender knew that it wasn’t the correct name of the foal, but he played along. A human saying he would care for her was enough to know she’d be fine. For anyone else, it would be enough knowing a legendary creature was protecting you. He had gotten rid of the gryphons without much of a fight after all. But once again, the swinging door interrupted the conversation, and both occupants looked to see who had entered the saloon this time. Thiemo recognized the unicorn. It was the same one who had told him about this place - the sheriff. A stallion with sand-colored fur and a brown mane holding an old Stetson in its place. In the bulge of his hat, his horn stood out. With that, he wore a brown vest, showing his golden star, and to top it all off, he didn’t look too happy.

Slowly, he walked towards the bar, never taking his eyes off Thiemo, the human doing the same. “I thought we had an agreement that you wouldn’t cause any trouble?” Thiemo pointed a finger at himself and gave the unicorn a confused look. “Is everything alright with you, Bronze Mug? He isn’t causing you trouble, is he?” Both looked to the still perplexed human who was sitting on the table and staring back at them, disbelieving.

“Not more than any other customer.” The harsh look of the sheriff loosened a bit, but he still turned to the one who was a stranger to him.

“I still don’t know what you are," he remarked in a demanding tone. After waiting a few seconds for an answer, a smile formed on the face of the stranger. Thiemo had just too much of an allergy against authorities to resist. There were only a few he would really obey. God, Satan, Spiderman, the Hulk, and his grandma, exactly in that order, though only the last one was real and she wasn’t here. He had also almost forgotten Deerling, a doe who had been his servant when he had played the monkey god. Although she had been just his servant, she had this determined character, and to his dishonour, he liked women who wore pants, not speaking literally. Equal partners, not the dominating kind. Even though that sure was worth an excursion...

“As I said, I’m Lucky Luke, brain sucker from out—” He wasn’t allowed to continue further since the bartender interrupted by banging the glass he was just washing on the bar.

"He’s a human, Dusk. Also my guest.” Did he just get defended by the old pony? Things like that just didn't happen these days. Only Aura would find herself having to do it. Thus, he was even more confused that this old stallion geezer stood up for him.

“Doesn’t matter, Bronze, you know the law. He has been drinking - his breath is more than proof enough.” Thiemo put a hand before his mouth and exhaled, sniffing the hand. The scent of cider was clear. “And he was involved in a brawl.” Not exactly the way he’d put it. It was more of a little disagreement over whom the bottle of cider belonged. Calling it a brawl was exaggerated in his opinion. “He gets to spend the night chilling in a cell.” His grin disappeared instantly, and he looked over to the sheriff, who looked tensed and was ready to use his horn if needed.

“But I already paid for the bed...” he whined, his finger pointing upstairs. It was a small bed, an old bed, but it was a bed. For the last two weeks, he had been sleeping in the sand with nothing but a thin sheet beneath him and an even thinner tent above. He wanted this bed. No, this bed was his legitimate right and belonged to him by all the gods.

“Not my problem. You make trouble, you spend the night in the jail. It’s as simple as that.” One sentence and his right got eradicated. Sometimes, the world really was cruel. He shoved the half-melted ice bag on the bar.

“Could you tell the little one where she can find me?” He thought over what he just said and wanted to slap himself. “Forget that; just tell her I’ll be back tomorrow and that we’ll take the trains to Appleloosa in a few days.” The pony nodded and put the bottle back with the others before he went back to cleaning the glasses. Now that Thiemo stood upright, he could solve the mystery of the pony cleaning glasses while standing on two legs. The bartender leaned on a small work surface that was like a counter behind the counter.

“No problem. Watch yourself, boy.” Thiemo tapped his forehead with two fingers and saluted to Bronze before he turned around and faced the thief of his bed.

“Well then, let’s get going since I already have to spend the night in jail then. I am tired.” The unicorn apparently had no problem with his desire to sleep and signalled with his hoof that he should go in front, and the two got moving.

Outside, it wasn’t nearly as bright as it was back when they had arrived. The sun was on its way towards the horizon, meaning that soon the chilly night would dominate this world. That reminded Thiemo of something interesting he had found out about this world. Although the world was shaped like Earth, at any given time, the time would be exactly the same no matter where you were. Same applied to the seasons. If it was spring where you were, it was spring everywhere and so on. One of the mysteries he wanted to solve, one of the many.

With the dying sun, the life on the street went dormant. Only a few citizens were still busy. Some ponies, a couple of horses, goats, and cows. There were also one or two gryphons he saw walking through the dusty road but none of the three troublemakers. The town was just as he expected it when he had seen the first couple of buildings when he approached it. Wooden sheds and small houses with tiny overhangs provided shadows for those who wanted to avoid the sun. The houses were so close to each other that he had to go sideways to get through them.

“And you are really a human?” The question dragged him out of his perusal as he and sheriff crossed the broad street. Some inhabitants of the small town gave him weird looks again, but due the accompanying sheriff, they let him be. Otherwise, they’d probably barricade themselves in their houses; at least the easy scared ponies would.

“Would that change my situation in any way?” Although he couldn’t see the face of the sheriff, he knew, due to the pause, that the pony knew the stories of his kind.

“No,” the sheriff responded as they walked by. You could hear the prejudice in his voice. “Just don’t give me any more reason to keep you longer, and you’ll be out by morning.” He could live with that. A night on a hay bale was still better than sleeping in the sand. He only wished that he could’ve used the shower in their room.

Finally, after they had walked past something which seemed to represent a bank, judging by the sign which showed a big bag of golden coins, they got into the bureau of the sheriff. Just like the bank, it was marked by a large sign on the outer wall depicting a sheriff star. Dusk Star walked past him and opened the closed door with a hoof rather than magicking it open, but he disregarded that. The building itself was not much. In the entrance, there was an old desk designed for a pony. On it, numerous papers, letters, and notes covered most of the work space. There was also a magical telegraph he had already seen once. They served for long distance communication and were a rather new invention from Equestria. A lot of the magic gadgets came from there. His magical lamp in his backpack was one of them. It wasn’t very large and delivered just enough light for reading. It got its power out of the magic which flowed through the entire world, so it was unreliable as a power source. Larger versions, though available, cost a fortune. He also noticed the wanted posters on the wall behind the desk. All of them were drawn by hoof or mouth onto the yellowed paper and showed a dozen criminal faces.

That most of them were gryphons was rather logical when one considered their natural behaviour. Then there were jackals, a zebra, and even a pony, which was more than unusual since they were of a friendly nature. He had never encountered any sort of violent pony. One could have classified them as pacifists if it weren’t for the Royal Guard, an elite troop of trained ponies that ensured the safety of the princesses. They consisted of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies in equal numbers, each one as deadly as the next. The camels had told stories of them that he couldn’t believe at first. Supposedly, they could kick with their hooves so hard that they’d break the neck of any attacker with one hit. Even today he didn't believe them completely, but every story had its true core. He reasoned that they were well trained soldiers who could probably easily take out a gryphon. The rest, they probably spread by themselves to scare potential opponents.

However, it was the next wanted poster that made him hesitate. It showed himself, though it was an older picture. In it, he was wearing his old clothes, his old hay hat, and the pilot glasses. His hair was short and his beard in bloom. Underneath, it said Captain Baloo, the name he had used during the voyage to Dragmire.

The sheriff didn’t recognize him, and how could he? Thiemo guessed the picture was more than a year old. In general, he'd changed much since his arrival. Not much was left of the small IT-technician he once had been. Due to the constant travelling, his natural brownness had made place for a real tan. Thiemo wouldn’t describe himself as freakishly muscular or strong, especially since he was only five feet eight. There was no six-pack spicing up his belly but no unneeded ballast either. He was satisfied with himself.

“What did that pony do?” Thiemo pointed at the wanted poster to get his eyes off his own. A few seconds more staring and the sheriff would have noticed for sure.

“That’s Billy the Colt. He robs banks in the whole Leylands and disappears with the money. Nobody’s ever heard of him spending it anywhere. Why?” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Just because I’ve never heard of a criminal pony.” The sheriff mumbled his agreement.

“Rarely, but we all have our black sheep.” A saying that was meant to be taken literally. The zebras raised sheep for milk and wool, and there were some black ones. These were often aggressive, attacked the others without reason, and had to be separated from the herd.

“Come, I’ll show you your cell.” The stallion nodded towards the door that led to the cell row.

“How did you even hear of the fight?” A reasonable question as Thiemo didn’t believe they’d be snitches.

“Two whining griffons came into my office and told me a big two-legged thing had harassed them in the saloon, knocked out their friend, and took money from them.” Or maybe they were. “But don’t worry; I know gryphons, and I can imagine what really happened. Otherwise, you’d enjoy my hospitality for longer.” From how he said the last sentence, it was easy to see he didn’t believe their words but had to follow his protocols. “Now get going; my wife's waiting for me.”

This time, he magicked the door open and revealed a small room with a single cell in. It wasn’t the cell itself which cheered him up but what was inside: a bench, a big, very comfortable-looking bench with clean sheets. It was so big that two humans of his stature could have fit on it, probably because it was developed for gryphons and other large creatures, but that didn’t bother him. With a spring in his step, he walked through the iron door which snapped immediately behind him. He then proceeded to jump onto his new bed with a grin from ear to ear, for the bench was as comfortable as it looked.

“Okay, how many times do I need to punch you to book this thing for the next few days?” He turned to his side and faced his host. The sheriff didn’t get the joke and carefully stepped a few steps back.

“Attacking an officer will be treated in court and is punished by either a fine or a long stay in the jail of Junk Town,” he quoted in a quivering tone, afraid that the human would reach through the iron bars and carry out his threat.

“Relax. I was kidding, but this is the most comfortable bed I've had in a long time. So, thank you for that.” In all his time, it rarely— No, it never happened for an inmate to thank him for being thrown in jail. Thus, his response was a bit hesitant and rather sounded like a question.

“You’re welcome?” The sheriff shook his head, left the room, and locked the wooden door with his magic. Thiemo sighed and stood up to prepare the sheets for the night. While doing so, he had a look at the iron bars. They were made for ponies and other inhabitants of this world, not for humans. They had wide gaps between them, at least wider than they should have been for him. If he wanted, he could probably have just squeezed himself through them. But the comfortable bed was simply superior to the one in the saloon, and if he hurried tomorrow, he’d be back before Aura would notice anything. Yes, that sounded like a plan.

Author's Notes:

Again, thanks to faktopus for correcting my mess.
I would have needed days to find even most of my own mistakes. For you guys that only means, this chapter is published earlier than planned.

A second time edited by JBL. Thanks buddy!