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As Max gets down from the podium, he’s stopped by two familiar ponies.

“Maxwell Yellowfeather, Lighting has just confessed that you’re the one who told him to take my bolts from me and give it to you. by the laws of the Meandering Gloss, you are now under arrest for murder, Sabotage and thievery. Come quietly or I’ll have to use force.” The small, pregnant and very undangerous-looking captain of the guards mare threatened.

Flamberge stands nearby, watching. He was ready to leap to Crosshair's defence should things turn violent, but was otherwise happy to let the guard do their job.

Max smiles. “Oh? And so how hard did you twist the hoof screws to to get Lightning to say what you want to hear like that?”

“You have the rights to remain silent, everything you said will be used against you in court. If you refuse to come then I will add a resist arrest charge aswell.” Continued the mare, ignoring Max’s questions.

Max rolls his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

Crosshair takes out a pair of shackles to try and cuff the griffin without further words. Knowing that saying anymore won’t do any good.

Max looked away dismissively. Almost uninterested. “Sure. Fine. I’ have nothing to hide.” He puts his hands out. And was effectively cuffed by a much smaller pony. It looked kind of funny, really.

Flamberge is surprised to see Max go peacefully and moves to follow him as Crosshair leads the prisoner out.

“So, what’s the plan, Flamberge, interrogate me, lock me up, throw away the key?” Max asked in almost a banal, bored manner.

Flamberge responds blandly, "That isn't up to me. The Captain of the Guard and the Lady Mayor will decide your fate."

Max cocks a brow. “Not even going to admit you w’ere even hoping to see me in cuffs at the end of this month? Are you not’ even going to make this honest? For a single second?”

Flamberge decides to keep the bird talking, maybe he'd slip up and say too much, "And why would I have wanted that?"

“Simple, you’ve wanted me gone since my hospital stay. I think you said, and I quote, “One more slip up and i’ll run you through bird.’ Let me guess. You can’t find the killer. But you’re never one to pass up mak’in lemonade out of a situation. So you’re cuffing me.”

Flamberge moves to face the griffin and says loudly, and plainly, "Lightning Runner has gone on record that he stole the murder weapon to give to you, before the death of Sergi. For that reason, and that reason only you are being taken in for questioning. Crosshair, get him out of here."

The small mare nods and tugged Max along to follow her, holding the chain with her mouth. It was almost silly to look at and is obvious in every way that he could’ve just easily fly away and there’s not a thing the pregnant mare can do to stop something that’s nearly three times her size.

Max goes along without a hesitation.

Several minutes later, Max was sitting in a prison cell, next to Lightning Runner’s. Flamberge was sitting at Crosshair’s desk, leaning back, his rear hooves propped up on the table, while the mare in question stood near the bars looking at the prisoner.


Max leers from left to right as he taps in the interrogation table with his claw rhythmically.

Crosshair entered his cell with other guards waiting outside to make sure that the bird doesn’t do anything funny. “So! Max. I’m going to cut to the chase and ask you now, what do you know about the Murder?”

“I know I had nothing to do with it. I know I have no probable cause. Killing one of my own? what are you? Dense?” Max says, taking a long look at his handcuffed claws.

“Alright, then tell me. Why did you have Lightning Runner steal weapons for you? Weapons such as my personal bolts, to be precise. The ones that we found on the dead griffin.” Crosshair pressed on.

“I think the proper question is why would I have asked Lightning Runner to steal weapons for me?” He asks in a rhetorical tone. “What’s my motive? What would I have to gain from all the theft, detective?”

“Well.” Crosshair begin “I’m not sure if you have any ulterior motives or not, but the obvious reason would be because Flamberge killed your lover. Whom from what I understand, been with you for many, Many years. So it’s no doubt you’d love some revenge. And of course, what other way would be better than framing Flamberge’s mare, get her dishonorably discharged, hoping that he’ll get the flak of it as well and suffer a strain in his record for the rest of his life? Perhaps you even plan to kill me a swell in the end to get even with him.”

Max’s feathers flare. He leans in. “Little mare, if you think you’ even amount to an infinitesimal little pawn ta’ either Flamberge or I, you are more naive than a could have even thought possible.” Max leans back. “Yeah. It’s true. The revenge part. I do. And I try to get it. By defending Lighting and his wife from you, I get a little revenge. By holding rallies and shining a light up to this whole farce, I get a little revenge. By staying calm, in these cuffs and proving how desperate you two really are at covering the tracks of who really murdered Sergi, I get a little revenge as well.”

Flamberge rolls his eyes from the desk, at the absurd notion that they would have any reason to murder the soldier.

“Protecting Lightning Runner by turning him into a thief which ends up getting him shot and locked up behind bars.” Crosshair snorted “I’ll be sure to never ask for your help, then. But do tell me, if you weren’t involved in this, then why would Lightning Runner say that you are?”

Max massages the brook of his beak. “Since, when have ponies who babble in their sleep and teleport corpses into their cells become reliable, dependable sources, Crosshair?”


“Oh I’m certain that Lighting Runner have no way of teleporting corpses into his cell. And you’d be surprised how desperation can make a pony very truthful about something.” Crosshair pressed on. Not giving up.

“Desperation can also make a pony lie through their teeth and say anything to lighten their prison bail and ditch town.” Max interjects. “So I had the bolts in the end is what you’re getting at?”

“Where were you when the murder took place?” Asked Crosshair.

“What day in particular was tha’, exactly? Refresh my memory.” Max asked curtly.”It was so ordinary I can’t even remember. I was flying around, checking the roofing on the apartments. I remember a faint shattering of glass, but paid no mind. It was probably something innocent. Turns out it wasn’t, I later found out.”

“On 26th Malachite, 272 At five before noon. It’s understandable that you can’t remember all of it, but did anyone else see you that day to vouch for you that you were somewhere else when the murder happened?”

“Redhat, Prodd, and Temperance.” Max answered, an ace up his sleeve. “Redhat, who was flying over the apartments as well, watched for Intruders, he saw me, he can vouch.” Max glances at the two. “As you both can easily verify, as you set the flight schedules yourselves. Redhat can prove I was nowhere near the crime scene. Twenty minutes before the crime? I was helping Prodd. Twenty minutes after I was calmly reading a law book in Temperance’s office. Honestly, I challenge you to find somth’in sinister about me.”

Flamberge stands up, "Twenty minutes before and after means nothing. The town is small enough you could get from any one place to any other in that time. Crosshair will, I’m sure, be asking Redhat about seeing you, when he returns, and we'll certainly mention this to Temperance, but don't think you are anywhere near off the hook."

Max chuckles. “It won’t do you no good Flamberge, you know that.”

Flamberge glares at the murdering bird, trying to figure out what he had planned, but has no words to add.

“Lock me up? Temperance or Convalescence will set me right back out when the griffon caravan form Canyontalon arrives. Amnesty laws. Look them up.”

Flamberge look at Max for several seconds before saying, “Do you know what the Griffion’s do to traitors? It isn’t pretty, and you, a griffion yourself, murdered one of your own.”

Max lays back cooly. “I’m not talking to another pony other than Convalescence this point forward, Berge. Good luck collecting a’ actual physical shred of evidence to give Canyontalon in the midterm. Carpe diem. Better yet, have fun convincing the griffon ambassadors their alliance with you isn’t shaky to undependable now at best.”Max cocks his falcon head wryly. “Perhaps father was right afterall, Flamberge. Just- Just couldn't cut it, could you?”

As Max says that, Flamberge loses his cool completely, he roars with rage and flies forward slamming a forehoof through the bars at the birds beak, only to immediately be pulled back and away by Crosshair and the other guards.

Max takes the horseshoe to the beak with a grunt. He rubs his chipped, bleeding beak with almost a pride. “See? The lunatics are running the asylum. All it takes is the right push.” His chuckle was deep and low; the cruel laugh resonating down the cobblestone dungeon.

Flamberge huffs, and struggles, then when Crosshair moves in front of him, he realizes where he is and what he just did, he stops resisting and says "Let me go." He then pulls free from the guards, as they let him go and then storms toward the door, he stops and gives Max one last look, one of intense and deep hatred before leaving the cell block slamming the door behind him.

Max perches on his apartment bed, tucked in feathered ball and his head tucked under his wing. He snores quite loudly for a bird thing with such small nostrils.

It was the early morning right and the sun was still rising. Red had just left her house and was making a B-line for the bird’s house, with her pet wolf being right behind her. If she was going to have to head out in the wilds, she was going to need to find someone to take care of bonnet. Once he got to the bird house he knocked the front door.
 

Max lazily stirs as he hears a knock at his apartment door. He groans, and shifts himself out of bed. What could it possibly be now? He opened the door and hears the familiar Redhatted Stallion and his pet bonnet. “ Uh, hello, Redhat.” He shifts his groggy eyes up and down the apartment hall. “Do you know how early it is?” He yawned.

“Well, I’d like to apologize for this inconvenience but I need to leave the fort in a few hours and need someone to take care of my dog, and furthermore I need to talk to you about something...” The blue maned pony looked around a little. “and do so somewhere more private..”

Max looks a little perplexed but also more than willing to try and rectify whatever Red had on his mind. “Yes, of course, sure.” Max nodded. “Let me, uh, put on some pants.” He said while looking back into the apartment.

“Um... very well. carry on.” Red just nodded and waited for him to close the door.

Max closes the door and the a lull for a few minutes, until Max pushed the door wide again, this time clothed. He walks and talks with Redhat. “Alright, Shoot.”

Red nodded and came into the house. “Well, I know what happened to lightning...” He gave him a rather pissed look and closed the door behind him. “Now tell me... is that the second pawn in your grab for power who you’ve thrown away?”


“What happened to Lightning is Lightning’s own fault.” Max said in an agitated, hushed tone. “He offered his services as a thief by trade. He didn’t even allow himself ta’ take my money for the deed. I assure you I am doing everything I can to help him, he is a pawn that still has much tactical worth to me, even this late in the game.”

“... Whatever bird. I feel sorry that he’s being put up for the murder you committed for your own gain, but that’s not the issue at hand.” Red moved closer to Max being rather intimidating. “I’m not some pawn you can throw away. I know you’ve killed someone just for your selfish needs for revenge, and I fully expect you to do something equally horrible to anyone who get’s in your way, or becomes a liability and I just want you to know, that if you ever try to give me the short end of the stick, I’ll put my stick right through your spine.”


Max gives a long, low chuckle. “He he he, Well say good bye to your estate then. If you even get out of this alive after sticking that blade in me. Tell me, How long do you expect to survive under Flamberge’s wing, hmm? How many more assaults do you think your and your dog will weather?”

“I expect to leave this ship long before it sinks. And, I’m simply saying if you dare try to put a dagger in my back, I’ll put a spear in yours...” the pony backed off a little. “As for being under his wing... I’ll walk out of this all alive no matter what abomination I must fight.”
 
Max closed his eyes solemnly. “Brave words from a foolhardy Pegasus. Listen. I was not so different, I thought I was invincible once, too.” Max gained a smile.

“You see... I’ve already lost everything...” She frowned as at his creepy little grin. “But I like to think over the years, and all the discordants I’ve put down and all the experience I gained I’ve grown more adept at survival.”

“You can never survive without the proper tools.” Max takes out two bright, smooth stones from his pant pocket. “Here, I want you to take these.”

She looked down at them, but didn’t take them. “Max, I need to know something before take a favor from you...”

“I’ll try to answer best I can at this juncture.” Max responded.

“Okay then... do you plan to throw me into the fire the moment you think I’m a liability?”

“Rather ... direct. Of course I would.” Max told him simply. “ I have A diamond dog on call, who can deal with this Flamberge business for a lot cheaper than a hundred grand. That’s plan ‘B’.” Max continued casually walking. “I have thought of all angles to this, even the unlikely ones. Do you blame me?” Max asks. “I genuinely hope I don’t have to enact these ‘what if’ scenarios though.”

“... I’m not surprised... I honestly expected this much out of you... but again, I will put you down if you ever try to double cross me.”

Max gives an aggravated sigh.” I honestly can't understand how you suppose to to gain so much in so little time without a little risk. Come now. You’re intelligent. You know how this game is played.”

“If you make a deal with the devil, you should at least have a plan to fall back on if things go sour.”

Max looks her in the eye. “Glad we’re in agreement. Now, about the rocks?”

“what are they for?”

“You’ll see, in time. Just keep them on you and your friend at all times.”

“If I may ask, what do they do?”

“They’ll keep my investment safe.”

“... fine...” Red took the rocks, even though she had the slightest idea what they did.

“So, did you want me to take care of something else for you, or was this purely a temporary loss of nerves and your dog?”

“Well, so long as you know how to take care of bonnet and where to get her some meat, I’m quite finished here.”

Max looks at the aging dog. “ I did always have a soft spot for this dog. Does he need any medicines?”

“I usually try to talk to case about getting some pain medicine if we aren’t low on supplies... and remember she can hardly walk.”

Max looks back to the dog with a dry expression. “Riiight.”

“... I would never take a narcotic without a medical professional's consent. Ever sense that ogre mangled her, she’s had back problems, okay?”

Max whistles to Bonnet. “C’mere boy, you’re going to live with ol’ Max for awhile.”

“It’s a she.”

Max looked at Redhat incredulously. “As if the wolf knows the difference.”

“You do though, so treat Bonnet with dignity.”

Max laughs. “All right miss Bonnet, you’re staying with me for awhile.”

*Quirks brow*

Dwarf Fortress can already do what you're already asking - I should know, I got lazy one night DM'ing and outsourced all that pesky 'Worldbuilding' to DF. It made a great starting point, and generic enough it was easy to fill the fantasy holes.

I think what you are really asking for is a sandbox mode - Arena mode, but on a world scale and unisolated. This may very well happen as a by-product from Toady de-bugging adventure mode. Maybe. It'll never be an intentional bullet point on the dev log, but if the developer also needs to know what would happen if a troll attacks a hamlet, or what would happen if variable X or Y were raised or lowered he would make the tools. Whether you should get even get them is another question.

To quote Yatzee from Zero Punctuation;

But then again, part of the appeal of building is the effort required to gather materials. That eighty-foot golden c##k and balls wouldn't be so satisfyingly turgid if it weren't for the entire continent you had to turn upside-down to find all the ore. And that's what sets it apart from other creativity toys like Garry's Mod. If you can just clap your hands and summon fifty explosive barrels to pile ragdolls around, then the spectacle is as fulfilling as eating your own snot.

Dwarf Fortress is a responsible parent. It knows you'll swiftly get bored of your golden c##k and balls if it just gives you one, so it pays you five dollars a week to wash its car so you can save up and gain an appreciation for value. And when you finally have your golden c##k and balls, you'll love it all the more. Until Dwarf Fortress sends the goblins to demolish it, because you also need to learn that sometimes life will just s##t on you. As it will when your boss finds out what you spent your entire workday on.

You See, If you invent a 'gimmie everything' mode, what's the incentive to play on anything else?

This is my major problem. For player-created journals to exist, we should have NPCs' journals. Which means the AI will need to be taught how to write. Which means the AI will need to be taught about literature above a kindergarten level. Which means that there will probably be a lengthy Literature Arc before this gets added. And since the sum total of this is a pretty low reward, it's probably not going to happen for a while.
Sorry.

Man, does everything in DF's development have to be done in reverse?

Yeah, you could have a lengthy literature arc and painfully teach the NPCs to read and write first, I guess. Or, just hack together a simple Input/Output String storage interface and leave all that for another day.

Because DF totally doesn't have any outstanding unfinished features or anything .... [Cough] The Economy [/Cough]

    Max mentally ticked of the passing seconds in his head as he strode towards the hospital wing. He had a small window, a blind spot for but the briefest moment as the guard changed rotation. As he opened the door to the building, he took a look back, for but a moment. Then he steeled himself and walked in.  He stalked past Convalescence and Case Study's offices with not even the smallest whisper of a sound. turning the corner into the patient room hallway he shadowed the wall until he came to the right numbered door.  It was the door to the hospital room where the griffon from the caravan had been put to rest. He slowly turned the knob and to his severe displeasure it made a rouge rusty, loud creak.

Max's feathers stood on end as he looked around. Would anyone else have had heard that? With a  couple tense seconds, he felt comfortable enough to continue.
The griffon inside the room looked up from his bed. His eyes were green and his feathers were a lighter tone of beige than Max's. The tips of his feathers were red as well. To Max's astonishment, he knows exactly who this griffon is.

"Sergi?" Max called out with a mundane surprise.

"Maximilian!" Sergi said with a gregarious grin. "Or are you still going by your pony given name, Maxwell?"

"Heh, good to see you Sergi. Still just plain 'ol Max." Duskfield's griffon said in a friendly but guarded tone.

The caravan griffon lets out a belly laugh. "Figures the pony lover would be around. Amug's sake, Am I glad to see you!"

Max winces. Ten seconds in the conversation and yes, there it was already. There's the reason why he never sticks around other griffons very long. Griffons, they can't wrap their head around the fact of his adoptive pony parents. It bothers them, and like a sore at the back of the mouth, they kept antagonizing it, causing the issue to flare up something fierce almost unconsciously. "I'm surprised to see you here, Sergi. Never pinned you for the soldier type."

"Yeah, well. Probably because I never thought I’d be a soldier.” He laughed. “Oh, but you know how it is ‘round the Griffon lands.” 

Max laughs. "Yes, do I know how that system works. Never about where you want to be ..."

“... Always where you need to be!” Sergi finished. “Yes, that is de motto.”

“Quite the system setup.” Max added.

“Yes, It’s going to lead  to a true utopia one day.” Sergi chimed with a prideful boast.

“Everyone gets their fair and due share. The banks are all centralized, the means of production are all controlled. Citizens are placed to their ability, the world is perfect, and shared equally.”

“An’ everything is free to boot!” Sergi grinned.
  Max cocked a worried brow at him. “Free? Not free by a longshot. It's all free at the cost of freedom, Sergi.  The police patrol the skies relentlessly, the point to keep you grounded."

"Yes, so better to make sure no one griffon takes advantage to rise above the other. So we all slowly rise  into prosperity together! As equals."

"So tell me, friend, where does the individual competitive spirit come in to your perfect system? When does that -” Max makes a jab in the air and makes a *umf*, putting some feeling into it. “- strive for achievement kick in? To outdo the other guy? The very thing that creates the greatest strides of productivity in common life? The most creative pieces of art? The most steeled an' hardened public figures?  It’s suppressed. No reason to strive. Who would want to live like that?”

“All coming from the Griffon who felt he was above chipping in ...” Sergi lashed bitterly.

“Was never allowed in, actually. ‘Cause of my adoptive parents I was never able to become a citizen.” Max corrected for him. 

 “Then you have no idea what you are talking about. It’s funny how you speak as if your system is perfect.” Sergi scoffed.

“No, by gods it’s not.” Max shook his head. “But it doesn't have to be. Just less backwards than yours.”

“Fine. We’ll agree to disagree then.” Sergi dropped the subject. “Why are you here?”

“Me? I’m here to make you feel more at home while you’re on the mend.” Max said with a dishonest smirk.

“Well, you’re doing a poor job.” Sergi retorted. “How does starting a argument over politics exactly make me at home?”

He shrugs. “Because that’s all we ever did back on the road.”

Sergi crossed his arms.  “Well, we’re not on the road right now.  Can we talk about something else?”
Max cocks his head with a slight frown. “Sure. Let’s talk about why you’re here, Sergi.”

“What’s to say?  I was part of the merchant caravan’s escort.  That and I was foolish enough to get into a fight with discordant ponies without Captain Pankov and the others with me.”
Max shakes his head. “No, Sergi. I want to know why you’re really here.”

Sergi raises both claws.  “I’ve told you all I know.  If you want to know why we are here, you’ll have to talk to the captain.  I don’t get told anything but where to march and how fast.”

“Well I can’t ask the captain, now can I?” max asked in an agitated tone. “They left. Even though the Griffons never leave their own behind.”

Sergi looks alarmed.  “Wait, they left?  But-but I can’t make it back to Canyontalon on my own!  Why would they leave?”  He shakes his head frantically.  “This must be a mistake.”

Max looks to the left dismissively. “Said something about collecting you next year. Griffons just don’t do that. And merchants just don’t come to trade armed head to paw in plate armor. You can fool the ponies but you can’t fool me, Sergi. What are you playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything!” Sergi pleads.  “Look... okay, look, this can’t leave this room, alright?  I didn’t actually talk with the major, but word spread down the ranks.  Rumors always do.  As far as anyone can figure, we’re working with the pony army for something.  Supposed to provide this place with some weapons, and they give us food since we can’t grow much in Canyontalon.”

Max’s eyes light up with an intense sheen. “And I assume Flamberge is heading this deal with the Griffons at Canyontalon? Any other key players?”

“I don’t know.”  He clasps a claw across his face.  “It’s probably a good thing the captain left me... if he found out I told you that he’d wring my neck.  Look, I don’t know, okay?  I don’t know who Flamberge is, or what Major Rykov is doing, or anything.  Like I told you originally, I was just sent as part of the detachment to guard the caravan out here.”

“Uh huh. You want to know what I think?” Max walks over to the Griffon’s bed table and opens the drawer. “I think Canyontalon has an ulterior motive. I think the trade caravans were really a scouting party posing as a trade caravan.”

“What’re you talking about?  We’ve been at peace with the ponies for generations.  Why would we be

‘scouting’ out this little farm out in the middle of nowhere?”
The griffon starts shuffling aggressively through Sergi’s belongings in the nightstand.

“Hey, what’re you doing now?”  Sergi tries to sit up and stop Max, but catches halfway.  “You know what?  Fine, look at whatever you want.  It’s just what little I brought with me other than my gear.”

Max pauses his investigation, and grins. He raises up a letter, clutched between his fingers. It had big red letters that read ‘For your eyes only!’ “Like I said, you can fool the ponies ...” He opened the letter and read aloud. “Duskfields: Military armament. Twenty to thirty odd soldiers. A mix of crossbows, a mix of close combat weapons. Wood palisades. Goes on and on ... Been spying on us, Sergi?”

The wounded griffon grimaces.  “Quit playing.  Is that my letter back to Anfisa?  That is personal.  Give it back.”

 Max quirks a brow, still reading. “Your sweetheart is an army Major, and military stats on opposing armies drive her wild? How bizarre. Or, it could be a report, written by a plant, taking advantage of an accident.”

Sergi’s grimace fades.  “Max... please give it back.”
the griffon’s eyes flick up to Sergi’s. “This is a capital offence ‘round here, you know.”
Sergi nervously props up in bed and inches back.  “Good thing I’m a griffon and not a pony then, right?  Max... just give it back, please?  I’ll destroy it.  Like it never even happened.  Captain Pankov didn’t ask for it.  Major Rykov didn’t ask for it.  I-I just thought maybe it would be something useful to note...”

Max’s face eased with a smile and he shredded the document. “Don’t worry Sergi. This will be a secret. Just between you and me.” He assured him.

Sergi looked slightly relieved.  “Thanks.  I was pretty dumb to do that anyway.  The captain, I bet he’d wring my neck over that too.”

Max let’s out a big, wild chuckle. “All’s forgiven my friend. I mean, it doesn't even fit the narrative! Can’t have that!”

Sergi makes a weak chuckle and raises an eyebrow.  “Ah, right.  Uh, what ‘narrative’?”

Max grabs one of Crosshair’s signature bolts out of the quiver strapped to his back, twirled it around in his claw and punctures Sergi’s throat with a stab. “You have to look faultless when I pin your death on Flamberge.” He said solemnly.

Sergi clutches the bolt sticking from his throat, and gasps.  His eyes snap open as he stumbles out of the bed, choking and making a number of other unpleasant gurgling noises.  He finally looks back up to Max, backing away into a corner and desperately holding a claw to his profusely bleeding throat.
Max steps back a bit as Sergi stumbles around. He leans backwards to the door, and locks it. He casually unslings his crossbow and loads a bolt.  “You see, Sergi? If you want to get something done,  ya’ need to get a little dirty, get a little blood on your hands. You have to commit everything you have!  Even when you know it’s going to lead down a path you never wanted to follow  ...”

 Sergi frantically looks around the room for an exit.  He spots the window on the far side of the room and spreads his wings.  He tries to take off, but in his panic and wounded state, he only manages to accomplish staggering two steps forward before collapsing onto the floor.  His entire body tenses in a cringe as he looks back up to Max with a pleading expression.
He points the crossbow at Sergi’s head, the stirrup pressing down on the top of his beak. “ ... You probably find this twisted and sick. Probably thinking 'How can I?' But Sergi, trust me when I say this is the least disgusting event to happen in the last few months. What's really disgusting? Is how little Duskfields deserves a griffon like me.” Max pulls the trigger with conviction.
There is the snap of the crossbow’s string releasing, and the crunch of the bolt tearing through Sergi’s skull.  The griffon twists aside as the bolt snaps his head back, and he convulses on the ground for a few moments, spraying the floor with even more blood.  He grows still.

Max lowered the crossbow and took a long dragged out breath. He was astonished he did it. He actually did it. He took the first step to avenging Carn. Why did it feel so awful?

  He backed away from the body, suddenly unnerved to the core. He always had a curiosity, as everyone does; a little dark fantasy, put away in the back of the mind where we dare not broach in casual conversation. He always wanted to ask a grizzled soldier how it felt one day. He didn't know it would make a griffon feel so hollow inside. Max knew the gods were in his favor, but would that be enough? Enough to look himself in the mirror when all was said and done here? Max's face hardened into a scowl. "Now's not the time to start moralizing, Max." The griffon said to himself. Not the time. Not while he still had holy work to do. He examined himself. He had a blood stain here and there, nothing a little water can't fix.

Max heard a light tap on the other side of the door. Somepony checking in on their Griffon guest. Max leered at the window and with a headlong start jumped through it with a smash. He took a short dive and went airborne into the sky.

and

Temperance nodded at Plastron.  “Alright, thanks.  If you see anything, just let me or Crosshair know.”  He waved the pony off and continued making his way around Duskfields, hoping to let a few more key ponies know about the bolts going missing.

Lightning was finishing up an entry in his journal, he looked up from the book and saw Temperance nearby. He quickly shoved the book back to where he kept it “Hey Temperance! How are ya doing?”

“Hello Lightning,” Temperance replied, making no note of him stowing the book away.  “I’m doing alright.  How about you?  Do you have a minute?”

“Doin’ alright, Mist has-surprisingly-been good-for a foal and all-and yes I do have a moment.” Lightning trotted over to Temperance “What is this about?”

Temperance raised an eyebrow at the way Lightning worded his reply, but shrugged it off mentally.  “Nothing much, it’s, uh, just that we’ve had something go missing around town and I was hoping to get a little help looking for it.”

“What’s gone missing, all I know of that’s been missing is some bolts from Crosshair’s house” Lightning said “I could help search around ya know, I do have some skill with a lockpick. I could snoop around a bit”

Temperance raised both eyebrows.  “Wait, what?  Lockpick, no... why would...”  He shook his head.  “No, no, I don’t want anypony just systematically searching homes or anything.  But, yes, this is about the crossbow bolts.”  He looked behind himself, wondering which pony he’d spoken to that would have had time to run into Lightning already.  “Have you already spoken with Crosshair about it?”

“No, I have heard from... sources, that bolts did go missing and somepony broke into her house. Me? I would never break into someponies house for something that I can get just by asking” Lightning said, not noticing his disposal of self incriminating information

Temperance nodded slowly, keeping one eyebrow raised.  “Uh... right.  That’s, um, good to know.”  He scratched the back of his head.  “So, I guess you know what’s missing then and don’t have any idea where the bolts are?  I’m still hoping they weren’t stolen so much as misplaced.  Haven’t seen them around anywhere?”

“I did hear of some badger pony sneaking in and snatching something, though I wouldn’t say that is the definite answer” Lighting lied “And I’m sure whoever stole them will get found out eventually.”

“A badger pony?  That’s strange, I didn’t hear anything about that,” Temperance said, trying to keep his face neutral.  “And again, I’d love nothing more for the bolts to just be found,” he said, looking at Lightning at a slight angle.  “I’d hate to know we had a thief here.  I don’t know what we’d have to do if that was the case.”

“Th-Thief? I’m no thief okay.” Lightning said nervously at the mention of it “I would never stoop so low as to steal what isn’t mine, Amug commands that I mustn’t take what isn’t mine and I never will.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Temperance said, raising a hoof.  “I didn’t say you were a thief!  I just want the bolts found, okay?  Crosshair is pretty concerned about it.”  Inside, he frowned.  A lot.  Was he really reading this pony right?

“Sorry, I just get... uncomfortable with that word... I don’t like to talk about it much...” Lightning calmed down. Mentally, he began realizing everything he has said pointed this to him, though he was sure Temperance wouldn’t lock him up without evidence.

“Right, right, sorry to get you so worked up,” Temperance said, taking a probing step backward.  “That’s, um, everything I needed to say.  So, I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing, alright?”

“Sure, and it isn’t your fault really” Lightning turned around and trotted back to the wall he was standing next to. He got back to his shift of guarding the gate... for hours.

---

and

Maxwell was leaning back in Temperance’s chair, in Temperance’s office. He has reading glasses on and he was glossing over a book from Temperance’s bookshelf, Equestrian Law Vol. IV . The door to Temperance’s office creaks open and he glances up.

Temperance was planning on just throwing himself into his chair the moment he got back to his office, where he could ponder why on earth Lightning Runner would steal the bolts.  He discovers it’s currently full of griffon however.  “Uh, Max?” he asks, not really able to make any other sentence come together.

“Hello, Temperance.” He said, his attention obviously divided. “I hopped in and borrowed a book of yours, hope you don’t mind. Door was unlocked.” He got up, never peeling his eyes away from the book, and sat in another seat in the office.

“Well, no, I don’t mind if you borrow it,” he replied.  He immediately recognized the thick tome.  “Is there something I can help you with about that, exactly?” he added, making for his now vacant chair.

“I’m glossing over a’ few things. The Equestrian Mayor electoral process, mostly.” He said gruffly.

Mayoral elections?  Why would he need to know about that?  “Oh, I see.  Well, there’s a few thousand tiny little details about that, mostly locale specific laws.”  He shrugged.  “Most of that doesn’t apply here, since nopony has really established anything about it here.”

Max’s eyebrows raise up in surprise. “Yeah I’ve noticed. Here, I’m looking mainly for being disbarred to run for being non-equestrian anywhere.”

So, that was it.  “Being a pony isn’t a requirement, really.  It’s more of a problem of being a citizen.”

Max licks his thumb, creases the corner of his current page in a triangle and closes it with a thud. “I’m not going to lie Temperance; I’m scared.” He says casually.

“Scared?”  Temperance stops daydreaming about the unholy amount of crap he was going to have to deal with related to Lightning Runner stealing from Flamberge and Crosshair.  He looks at Max.  “Why?  Did something else happen?”

“No. I’m scared about what’s going to happen. What road Duskfields is going down.” Max said with a small but noticeable twinge of anger. Max wondered how Temperance was going to react during this little conversation. A bit of relief? A little bit of fear? Choices, choices ...

Max wasn’t the only one worried about the road Duskfields was going down, but that wasn’t something Temperance wanted to admit yet.  For a moment, he wonders if Max had seen Maize’s rotting corpse parading around town too, but dismisses that.  “So... you’re hoping to put it back on track then?  As mayor?”  This couldnt possibly end well.

“I’m hoping to at least put a wrench in Flamberge’s fast-track to running this town. I’ll be happy if I can get that much done. But yes.” Max muttered. “See, unlike him? I believe in Duskfields. I believe you’re better than slaughtering the locals and mounting their heads as barbaric decour. By gods, I should not. But I do.”

Temperance looked away.  An awkward silence fell.  “That makes two of us,” he replied finally.

Max nodded to Temperance graciously for understanding. “ I know you do. I know almost everyone here does. Almost.” Max pauses, and leans forward. “Look, I know you never asked for any of this ... It would be unfair for me to ask you to pick a side. But all I can say is, I look at you as a capable pony, and  I’d treat you like any other. Even after what happened. Even after I should have a grudge with you about a mile long. Can the ‘other’ guy say the same?”

Temperance continues to look to the side uncomfortably.  There really was no good answer to that question.  Well, if they weren’t going to elect him as mayor, he could still at least try to support the democratic process.  He sighs.  “If it came between you and Flamberge, over civic matters I’d side with you.”

“Good.” Max smiled. “There’s good money to be made as a campaign adviser, ya’ know. If you’re interested.”

Temperance made a weak chuckle.  “If I was in this for the money, I’d still be an accountant back in Coupledye.”  He finally looked back up to Max.  “If you really want to run for mayor, I think I can help.”  Oh, he could see Flamberge wanting to snap both of their necks already.

“We’re going to have to get Flamberge out of the picture.” Max said, as if reading Temperance’s mind.

“You were honest with me, so I’ll be honest with you,” Temperance replied.  His eyebrows fell into a glower.  “Flamberge is a good soldier and probably the only reason we’re still alive.  But despite that, I’m pretty much terrified of him.  I don’t want him getting any more power than he absolutely needs.”  He shrugged and slumped back into his chair.  “I don’t know.  Maybe if somepony with a spine was mayor it would help.  Not that Convalescence hasn’t done a good job as a whole.”

“I have a plan.” Max said quietly, distantly. “ I have a plan to reduce him into nothing but a hauler, to completely break him. Inverse his life so quick he won’t even have the time to let his jaw drop.” Max continued smugly.

“Part of me tells me I really shouldn’t be hearing this,” Temperance said.  He wanted to slump further back into his chair, but there was nowhere left to go.  “But, you’ve got my attention.”

“And you won’t.” Max said dismissively. “All you need to hear is part one: Trust me. Implicitly. I’m not going to lie, this isn’t going to happen over night an’ this isn’t going to be bloodless. But! This is Duskfield’s freedom we’re talking about. It’s just worth it.”

The worried, uncertain look on Temperance’s face returned.  “Max... Max, you know I can’t just consent to that.  I want Duskfields to thrive and ponies, and everyone, to not have to worry about looking over their shoulders constantly for fear of their lives.  But... to solve it with violence... I can’t do it.”  He raised a hoof to his forehead.  “Look... I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that part.  If you want to run for mayor, I can make that happen.  If you get voted in, I’ll take that as enough faith from the populace that you’re the right one for the job.”

Max closes his eyes and smiles. “That’s all I’m asking, Temperance. All i’m asking is for you to be mute. When Flamberge’s little introverted world comes crashing down ... I need you ta’ stand strong and silent when he looks to you for rescue. I’m not asking anything but that.”

Temperance wonders briefly if he was conspiring to murder Flamberge.  If he was seriously doing that.  No, he wasn’t.  He didn’t like the stallion for a dozen reasons, but he wasn’t going to just stand there and let him die, or try to actively kill him.  If Max kept it to something less than that, maybe.  “I... I can’t make any promises, Max.  You’ve got my support for the mayoral election.  But what you do after that... I...  I won’t interfere, unless I must.”  That was all Max was getting out of him.

Max tries put his fears to rest with a laugh. “What? What do you think I’m advocating murder here? I assure you, no equestrian citizen is going to be harmed because I want to run for Mayor. I’m just preparing for tha’ dirty politics. Flamberge is going to fling every punch he has to stop me. I need to hit harder in the end is all.”

Temperance pauses at the emphasis on ‘equestrian citizen.’  “Alright.  As I said, you’ve got my support.  I don’t know how you’re going to convince him to run against you though.”

“All part of the plan.” Max assured him.  “Right, before we talk about running, let’s talk about walking. Am I or am I not a documented citizen of Duskfields?” Max asked.

“Formally?”  Temperance shook his head.  “No.  I was going to offer it to you since you’ve been such a huge help here, but when you said you were planning on, uh, leaving, I never brought it up.  If you’re planning on staying though, well, I can still do it.”

“Right, what do I have to sign?” Max slides Temperance’s ink jar towards his side of the table and plucked a feather out of his forearm. He dabbed the makeshift quill in black slick ink.

Temperance fished through a chest next to his desk for a few moments.  “A couple of things, actually...”

How'd I'd make a skull fortress.

First, take a look at the common dwarf skull. Eight pixels horizontally, roughly twelve pixels vertically. Let's take the bottom amount of pixels and assume that as the y axis as well to keep it simple.



SO, take the base foundation of the project space, make it a square number, and double the amount of blocks height wise, shave the outmost top and bottom ring of blocks and you have the basic skull shape.

Add lava eyes. 

The day after Flamberge’s talk with Temperance, he finally convinces Crosshair he was well enough to be up and about. His first action was to go and pay a visit to Max Yellowfeather. He arrives, with Crosshair at his side, he dismisses Redhat and Prodd, who were currently the ponies assigned to guard duty, and takes a seat by the bed containing the bird.

Max refuses to look in Flamberge’s direction as he walks in. “Hello, Mr Flamberge.” He said with an ill kept contempt. He instead, kept his attention focused on the window in his room.

Flamberge looks at the griffin and exhales fully, after refilling his lungs, he says, “Maxwell Yellowfeather, I assume you know why I am here.”

He shakes his head. “No, I honestly don’t know why you would be a hundred feet around me ‘bout now.” He glared with an intensity, still looking out the window.

"To put it simply," begins Flamberge, "you are known to have been aware of that dragon's existence long before it's attack, and you kept that a secret. I am here to decide whether or not you are to be held criminally responsible for your actions, as a conspirator against Duskfields. What do you have to say in your defence?"

“Yeah, how about you can go to hell.” Max’s intense glare snaps to Flamberge. “So, kennal mannaðr, you dreyrugr mórðvíg?”

[Gryphonic Translation: So, feel accomplished, you blood-stained murder?]

Crosshair rubbed her temples with a hoof and let out a tired sigh.

Flamberge glares at the birdbrain, "Look, you aren't doing yourself any favors Maxwell. You have Temperance convinced that you are faultless here, but I am the one who will decide your guilt. The beast is dead, whatever it had planned is over, if you tell the whole truth, it will save your neck. Now tell me, did the dragon have any allies besides you? Do I need to be preparing for griffin attacks next?"

“Carnith was a pacifist for Nirmek’s sake!” Max cried out.

"That is seriously the story you are going with, after I watched him slam Temperance into the ground, unprovoked?" replies Flamberge disbelievingly.

“What do you want to hear? That - that Carn and I were conspiring to raze Duskfields? Some sort of a’ vindication fer’ your actions? You won’t find one, no matter how hard you press the screws.”

Flamberge shakes his head slowly and says, "The fact that he was a dragon, near our town was all the reason I need for what I did, Max. Regardless what you or Temperance say, he was a threat. What I want now, is a reason not to hang you for keeping him a secret, and you aren't giving me one."

Max looked unfazed. “You think I’m not secretly wishing for that right now? After what ya’ did? We were a pair, you idiot. Of course I hid him away. Out of fear that you would do exactly what you did!”

"If you loved him, and that was the only reason to hide him, you would have just left here months ago." replies Flamberge, "There is more you aren't telling us, now spill it featherbrain."

“We wouldn’t have done what we did if you’d tell us earlier that you have a Dragon lover nearby, honestly. Temperance would probably tell us not to mess with him. But we can’t go back and change the past now, I really don’t want to punish you more than what you’ve already got, Max. You’ve lost a lover and to me, that’s already too much. But we’ve got a law to follow and I want to hear you say something to keep you safe. Alright?” Crosshair said, reasonably.

Max cocked a disgruntled eye at Crosshair. “I’m already safe. Lying isn’t a crime under equestrian law. I don’t need to justify anything to you.”

Flamberge raises an eyebrow at Crosshair as she spoke of possibly not having chased the dragon off, then turns back to Max and says, “It is actually when you are in court. Perjury. We don’t have a proper courtroom, but we are trying to ascertain your guilt, so it would apply if you are lying here, but that is irrelevant. You're being accused of aiding the enemy, but I am willing to look the other way if you tell me what it was it wanted here, what the two of you were up to, why you waited as long as you have to leave if what you said before was true. And if you were coerced into it all, I'll let you go free from here, that's all I want from you. I am being more than reasonable."

Max sighs, giving up. He was too emotionally drained at this point. If re-counting everything Flamberge already knew would get them out of his room faster, than fine. The griffon could not even guess how little time was left before his self-restraint gave out, and in a rage he decked out the cocksure GI blowhard. He knew full well that course of action would surely end his life or put him in prison for life. So, he kept spurting words instead of spurting his blood all over these white hospital walls. Barely. “Fine. Carnith came down here looking for me. Having my guts spilled, it - He didn’t know. He came in to - to get me out of here. As why we were here? We were here, first, if you recall. And we waited,” Max fumes. “We waited so long because I had faith you ponies were better than this. That things could turn out ideal for everyone. I trusted you. That’s my true crime.”

"Then you were a fool Yellowfeather, Carnith was a monster, that nopony would suffer to let live," answers Flamberge, "But, say I believe your tall tale, what do you plan to do next? Leave?"

“Leave? You would like that, wouldn't you.” He chuckled grimly. “Leave to where? It’s not so easy to leave now.   No. I intend to stay. I intend to hurt you, somehow. I intend to hurt you in a way where all your strength means nothing. Not by force, not by any avenue you'd expect - I’m not going to raise a single claw against you. I’m going to ruin you with just an open palm. That’s my next plan. And when it’s over, I dare you to look me in the eye and tell’ me wasn't karma commin’. ” Max stated with conviction, daring Flam to try something. He was begging for an excuse to whip out the knife like claws and ’defend’ himself.  To slit out that evil tongue which had the audacity to call Carn a monster in front of his face. Max’s humble nature reached just about the end of it’s fuse.

Crosshair frowned “I don’t think threatening the commander here really is going to help you at all, Max.”

“Redhat, Prodd!” Max shouted out the room. “Can you escort these two unwanted guests out of my room? I believe Temperance said for no one to come in unless it was life or death. These two are not doing that any favors.”

“Belay that Redhat,” adds Flamberge, “Bird, if you want to threaten me, you are deeply mistaken. I should kick you out of town, and never to suffer your presence again, let you fend for yourself in the wilderness with the discordians...”

“Sir, I apologize in advance for interrupting... but I’m kinda going to side with Max here...” Prodd spoke as he entered the room when he heard his name called. “It’s just... if the dragon was here for so long... why didn’t he attack us earlier?”

Flamberge rubs his forehead with a hoof and says, “I don’t know private, that’s what I wanted to find out, but he isn’t telling me anything.”

Red walked into the room, “You do realize when we got to that cave, temp was fine. It’s not like we didn’t provoke it to attack.”

“And foalnapping one of us doesn’t count as provoking us first? Anyway you slice that Redhat, it initiated conflict, but that isn’t what this is about. This isn’t about the dragon. This is about you Maxwell. About you not letting us know about a major threat to our safety. About you not even telling us to let that thing up in the cave know if something happened to you. You put everypony here at risk. I do however, believe that it is due to your utter incompetency, more so than maliciousness, and that will save your neck today.” Flamberge stands up.

“I don't believe the act of foalnapping is a crime that warrants death.” said red.

“How true you are. Thank you Redhat, for bringing some sense to obvious this inquisition.” Max said, Getting up from bed. He sorely stood up and took two steps closer to Flamberge. “I’m a fool, I know. But I am a’ fool with rights. Something you’ve forgotten in yer’ megalomania, possibly?”

"Megalomania! I am trying to keep these ponies safe! I am doing my duty! I have more than sufficient cause to suspect you of all sorts of things, and yet you sit here at say he was nothing more than your lover? That he was a pacifist who would never harm anypony? You are either the dumbest bird I've ever met, or the greatest actor, but I suspect the first." Flamberge turns to Crosshair, "We're leaving."

Flamberge heads towards the door, "You're off the hook this time Yellowfeather, but you stick one talon out of line again, if you are anything less than the model citizen, I will not hesitate to have you banished from our land. I'll be watching you bird." Flamberge exits with Crosshair, slamming the door behind him.

“A model citizen is exactly what I intend to be.” Max said with an exhale, collecting himself. “I’m going to be a reflection of exactly what you aren’t. That’s what Carn would want.” He looks to Redhat and Prodd. “Thank you both for standin’ up. I appreciate it. Redhat, we need to talk.”

“About what exactly?”

Max sighs. He walks over to Redhat and firmly puts a claw on Redhat’s shoulder. “I want to say, I understand. There ... there was nothing you could do. A dragon flew off with Temperance and you had to make a call. I don’t blame you.”

“Well... um... thanks...” red gave an awkward smile.

“I mean, you had a superior officer looking down at you, a career in jeopardy,  I understand. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

“Well... i’ll try not to...” he patted max on the shoulder, in an even more awkward way.

“If there’s any fault to blame, it’s purely mine.” Max says stoically, hanging his head low. He was tearing apart inside.He knew this was all squarely his fault.Sure, he could point at Flamberge all he wanted and say “There’s the enemy. There is where I should pour my hate.”, but was that anger all in the right place? What was Flam other than an effect to a cause? His cause. His   own arrogant cause to show Carn he had nothing to fear from his friends below. He was so aimlessly naive, it burned inside. His heart was broken evenly to thirds by a self-loathing, a loss, and a betrayal. He barely touched the food brought to his bed anymore. He couldn't imagine even living on just yet, hasn’t quite grasped the concept. Could he even fly and carve out another hole without Carn? What was the point? The guilt would still be stained into his soul. If Redhat was feeling even a tenth of what he felt ...

 It was too much anypony deserved to bare.

-----------------------------------------------------------

After slamming the door Flamberge exits the hospital in a huff, slamming it’s door as well after Crosshair makes her way through, She was worried of the commander’s tempers. “Now now, try to calm down, Commander.” she tried.

Flamberge turns to Crosshair, his emotions running high, he thinks for a second then flares out his wings and says, “Follow,” before flying off and away.

Crosshair quickly followed him, even when he’s angry and flying fast, the little mare had no problem catching up.

Once the two are outside the town, Flamberge slows down and has Crosshair fly next to him, so that she can hear him over the wind, “I don’t understand this Crosshair. How can Temperance, and Prodd, and Redhat, put so much faith in what that griffin says. Redhat’s an imbecile, so I can understand that, but Temperance is a smart stallion, why can’t he see that this doesn’t add up.”

Crosshair was thoughtful for a moment, before suggesting “Perhaps it’s something the dragon said and convinced him? Legends always says that Dragons are a creature of gods. Some claim to be gods even, I wouldn’t be surprised if this one have the ability to convince anypony with it’s words.”

Flamberge thinks for a few moments after that, “That... is certainly possible, and I seem to recall it trying to convince me to let it walk away. If that’s true then I’m even more sure that killing it was for the best, that kind of power would be incredibly dangerous. It would also explain why the griffin was so convinced the flesh eating monster was a pacifist, that loved him.”

Crosshair nodded agreeingly. “I have no doubt that a dragon would have an ability to make even a discordian pony look like somepony who you’d put in a nursery.”

Another moment of silence follows before Flamberge says, “Crosshair, what do you think I should do? I told Max he was off the hook for now, but, I’m still concerned that there might have been more going on then he claims, if the dragon was just manipulating him to whatever ends, then, fine, the threat is gone, but if he’s here to stir up trouble, if that back there was an act, and he was the one goading that monster to strike, then this might not be the end of it. I’d like to exile him to stay on the safe side, but I feel that too many of the ponies would not understand, and resent me for it. What do you think?”

“I think he’s been around without causing trouble for a while already. I think we should just wait and see if he’ll do anything else. If he’s not causing any more trouble then I don’t see why we can’t have him stay around still. But when he starts making trouble, then we’ll have all the more reason to exile him.” Crosshair gave him her input.

Flamberge nods, “Yes, but that’s the thing, after this, I’m not sure he hasn’t been causing trouble. He could be sending information back to the griffin kingdoms, or getting more beasts to attack us. If he was behind the dragon, then how do we know he wasn’t behind that Ogre a few months back, the one that thrashed Bonnet.”

Flamberge sighs, “You’re right though, we’ll just have to keep an eye on him.”

Crosshair nodded “It’s the best we can do right now without making any harsh moves”

Flamberge flies for a few more minutes in silence, then points down into a clearing, saying, “There it is.”

Flamberge flies downward and lands beside the corpse of Carnith the dragon, which, having had a few days to start decomposing, had begun to smell quite terrible.

Crosshair scrunched up her nose. “Ugh.. why are we here, Commander?”

“Because,” says Flamberge as he draws his sword, “Duskfields killed this thing, and I want everything that might try and attack us again to know it.”

“Woah woah, wait, Didn’t Temperance says we’re going to bury the thing whole? Besides. what if it cursed it’s remains? I don’t want you to risk getting cursed just because you want some head on our walls. And we’re not like those Discordians are we?” Crosshair tried to reason.

“Temperance did say that, but this thing’s skull belongs over the gate, if it convinces even one thief to try some other town instead of ours, isn’t it worth it? And, I don’t believe it’s remains are cursed, aren’t the old stories filled with artifacts made from dragon bones and hide?” counters Flamberge, “and if Temperance is so soft as to want to give this thing a funeral, then he is welcomed to the rest of it.”

Crosshair frowned slightly. “As much as I want to scare thieves off with the head of a dragon over our gate, I don’t think it’ll please many ponies.. It’s better to fight threats from outside than the ones from inside is it not?”

Flamberge looks at the decomposing dragon, then turns back to Crosshair, “And what ponies would object to it? Other than Temperance and those two morons back in the hospital? Max’s story sounds insane, I doubt he’ll convince many others that the dragon was any more than ravenous beast that threatened our livelihoods, and why should they care about disrespecting such a monster?”

“Because it might make us look like those Discordians?” Tried Crosshair again.

Flamberge sticks his sword in the ground, “But would it?!” he questions, “The discordians are disorganized rabble, they have no cities, no towns, no civilization, they could not do what we have done. I couldn’t have killed that thing without yours and Praetorians, and every other pony’s help. We did a grand thing, and showing that to the world, showing that we are a force to be reckoned with, is that really that wrong?! If we put that creature’s skull on the wall, then every merchant, every trader, every traveler, that comes through here will know what we did, and they will tell ponies, in other places. Duskfields will grow, WE will grow, our names will be known everywhere. But if we bury it, out here,” he makes a sweeping gesture with his hoof at the forest surrounding them, “no one will know, no one will believe it, it’s wasted potential to just let it rot here.”

After giving that a long hard thinking. Crosshair nodded. “Alright.. I suppose that makes sense. But since the head will rot away anyway and that we’ll only just get the skull. I think we should at least go back to the town and ask around if ponies wanted the skull on the gate or not.. you know? Casting votes? And if more ponies wanted it there to give us all the benefits like you said more than the ponies that doesn’t, then we’ll have it up. How’s that sounds? Plus temperance can’t give you flak for doing something harsh because it’s what the majority of ponies want!”

Flamberge thinks for a moment, then picks up his sword again, brushes of the dirt and sheaths it. He walks up to Crosshair, a serious look in his eyes, he then kisses her briefly on the cheek, pulls back smiles and says, “You are right, Love, I’ll put it to a vote. That should work out for the best.”

Crosshair beamed happily from that and give his muzzle a loving nuzzle. “Of course.. I want the best for both of us afterall.”

Flamberge nods, “Alright then, let’s head back to town, it stinks of dragon here.”

And with that the two ponies spread their wings and soar back to town.