xCRAZYxFACEx

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

In his dreams, Xerihan dug into the ground. Dirt and stones flew past his beak as furrowed as deeply as he could. His claws were back; they were whole. With each stroke, his claws hurt, were scratched, damaged. He could feel it closing in, from behind. He needed to finish.

The gryphon kept digging, dug until his claws bled and his gasps swallowed all sound. He struck something immutable. He held up his talons, and with horror he realized they had been reduced to nubs. Bleeding, gnarly nubs. He struck the rock, the impenetrable stone, below him. He struck again and again, until he felt his broken paws crack through.

Xerihan had done it - he could escape. But just as he was about to dive through, he felt something pierce the back of his head. He glanced down. His claws were metal. They stung, and it felt unnatural. The pain receded. All pain receded. He felt at ease. But in the back of his mind, he screamed, realizing what his true fate was. He felt his limp body, smiling, content, become warped and twisted transformed into something it was not. It didn’t hurt.

But Xerihan screamed anyway, a smile on his face the whole time.

---

“aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“Fuck - Xerihan! Xerihan, for Luna’s sake, calm down!”

Xerihan thrashed and clawed indiscriminately, trying his hardest to free himself of the tendril that had twisted him so thoroughly. Ricket held him down, doing his best not to get clawed. He failed in that regard; Xerihan clipped him on the beak. Ricket recoiled with a paw on his face, a smattering of blood dripping through his talons. “GAH! You crazy son of a bitch-!”

The assassin finally calmed down enough to realize he wasn’t being pulled up anymore. He wasn’t being twisted. The details of the dream - no, nightmare, he thought - started to filter through, and Xerihan recognized the nightmare’s sheer absurdity. He was fully brought back to reality by Ricket’s muffled curses. He looked over and saw his friend’s blood. His heart sunk.

“Crap. Ricket, I’m sorry, I wasn’t - agh, I don’t even know!”

Ricket shook his head, grabbing some cloth while still clutching his beak. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll just remember not to get close to you when you start thrashing in your sleep again. Damn,” he cursed, applying the cloth as a bandage and wrapping it around. “It’s a bit deep, but not long. It should heal up quick enough.”

Xerihan groaned and flopped onto his back. “I’m sorry, Ricket. It’s just, I’ve been having these nightmares, and there’s nothing that I can do about it. All started three days ago…”

Ricket paused his ministrations. “Cult related?” he asked.

Xerihan shrugged. “Could be. It would make sense. Or maybe it’s just my addiction… I don’t know, everything’s itchy, and my head’s pounding constantly, and I know everything would be better if I could just get some salt-”

“Xeri.” Ricket’s calm voice bore no room argument.

The assassin sighed. “I know, I know. It’s better this way. It just - everything hurts right now, and I just wish it would stop!”

Looking into the sky, Xerihan fell silent. Why did this have to happen. If I had just completed the task like I was instructed, Ricket and I wouldn’t have died. You will die. Ricket will die. I will die. End it now. Go back. You have your claws. Look, Ricket isn’t paying attention. You have the advantage. Just go up and slit his whoa whoa, what the hell!? I’m not killing Ricket, he’s the only friend I have right now! Why is everything so goddamned confusing? Why would you ask yourself? Ask me instead. You know me. Make it easier. Kill. KILL. WHY WON”T YOU KILL!?!?

Xerihan felt something sting his face. He blinked, looking above. Ricket had just slapped him, and he looked thoroughly unamused. “Nightmares during the day, too? Look, Xeri, I’m all for understanding others’ problems, but you need to pull yourself together. Let’s get a move on.”

Ricket stepped over Xerihan and made his way to his bag. Xerihan sat up, rubbing his cheek absent-mindedly. Feeling that his head was cleared up, he decided to reach for his own bag. As the sun rose over the tree tops, Xerihan carefully wrapped his face in rags again, and donned his rapidly deteriorating gloves. All the while, he fearfully pondered what had gotten into him.

Maybe if we keep moving, things will sort out… yeah. Just get to Muddy Hooves, it’ll be alright.

...You didn’t kill.

Xerihan choked on his own breath.

---

A little past midday, the duo had reached Muddy Hooves. After their detour to find Thea, they managed to find the road again and continue on to the small town. The village was on the border between the light forest near the lake and between the swamp Froggy Bottom Bog. Muddy Hooves lived up to its name - it was a small hamlet with only one main street to speak of, while the rest of the town was settled on dirt and mud. Approaching the gate, two Stormwing Hoplites forced them to stop.

“You two! Gryphons! State your business!” one of them ordered.

Xerihan stayed back, keeping his head low and covered by his cloak. Ricket spoke up. “We’re here to rest. We’ve been traveling for the past few days.”

The guards looked at each other. A silent agreement was reached. “You two came down the road from Trottingham,” the second one stated. “Reports say the city was in chaos not a few nights ago. Do you know anything about it?”

When Xerihan was not forthcoming, Ricket answered again, his voice more submissive. “We managed to escape the city some time after the riots started. We don’t know much else,” he said, his purposely weak voice convincing the guards.

The guards frowned. “Then do you know about the beam of light that struck the ground south east of here?”

“Err…” Ricket paused, while Xerihan looked at the guards in surprise. Beam of light? What are they talking about?

“I’m sorry. Truthfully, all it did was wake me up last night.”

They nodded. “Fine. You can pass. Actually-” the first guard changed his mind. “Your friend there - does he speak? He’s been a bit quiet.” Ricket paused, unsure what to say. He glanced at his friend.

Feeling it would be appropriate enough, Xerihan lifted his face enough so the guards could see his wrapped face. He threw his voice so it was more raspy than normal. “I can. But being trapped in a flaming building doesn’t help one’s disposition. I hope you understand - I’d prefer not to talk right now.”

The younger of the Hoplites flinched, while the other grimaced. “Ah - sorry, I meant nothing by it. Welcome to Muddy Hooves. Just stay out of trouble, and you’ll be fine. Everyone’s been jumpy with what’s happened, so watch yourselves, alright?”

Ricket answered as Xerihan lowered his head again. “Of course. Thank you, and have a nice day.” The guards parted and the gate into the city opened up. As they walked through, Xerihan sighed softly, releasing his pent up anxiety.

“First time in a while I entered a town by just walking in…” he muttered to Ricket. His friend chuckled good naturedly.

“That’s what most people do, Xeri. You should try being normal sometime, it’s not all that bad.”

Once inside, they set about doing business. The gryphons resupplied, buying extra food and bartering away their miscellaneous clothes and rags for better clothing. Soon enough, Ricket and Xerihan had clothing that was durable and well-suited to travel. Moreover, Xerihan replaced his current pair of gloves - which was almost in tatters - with much a much higher quality pair that almost resembled work gloves. Additionally, he replaced his face wrappings with a black cloth, so that it wouldn’t be as noticeable.

After resupplying their necessities, they set about re-arming. Though they received odd looks by the townsfolk, the gryphons were happy enough to buy enough arrows and extra daggers to last their journey, wherever it would take them.

Xerihan left the local blacksmith, having just told him the specifications for the bombs he required. Three explosive bombs, and three smoke bombs. He walked to the open air restaurant he and Ricket had agreed to meet at, his pockets jingling softly with throwing knives.

He spotted Ricket easily enough, being one of the few gryphons seated at the restaurant, and sat himself down. “Can you tell me why the guards were asking about a beam of light?”

“Well, that’s because there was a beam of light last night. It sounded like an explosion, and it woke me up. You slept right through it, though. Judging on the direction, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was somewhere near Old Hoof.”

Xerihan rose an eyebrow, forgetting Ricket couldn’t see most of his face. “I don’t think there are many things left in the world that could do something like that… Alicorn intervention?”

“Maybe,” Ricket replied, his interest in the subject already waning.

Odd… I wonder if Thea had anything to do with it. She was certainly close enough. Eh. Enough of that. “Any luck with the map?” he asked, changing the subject.

Ricket shook his head. “I can’t think of anything that could help us. We could try heading north, but that brings us near gryphon territory. I don’t think either of us would want that, at least not now. Going east brings us back to Trottingham-”

“Which isn’t going to happen,” Xerihan interrupted.

Ricket nodded. “Yeah. So that leaves heading west or south. South brings us onto the plains with absolutely no cover, and west brings us to the Everfree. Can’t say which is worse, to be honest.”

Xerihan motioned for the map, and Ricket handed it over. “Hmm… the Everfree might be useful, since we have that blessing that lets us hide in wilderness. Actually - there. We’re heading there.” He pointed at a seemingly random spot on the map, which was the northeastern portion of the Everfree forest.

Ricket eyed Xerihan curiously. “Um, are you sure? There’s nothing there.”

“Wrong,” Xerihan responded confidently. “There’s an Everfree encampment there, and there’s someone there that I think I can trust. He and I have known each other for years now, though I’m not sure if he’s still there.”

Ricket’s brow furrowed. “You know a guy in the Everfree? Xeri, that means he’s either a Cult plant or a Tribalist. I’m not sure either of those options is good right now.”

“He’s reliable, trust me. As long as we get there unnoticed and he’s still breathing, he’ll more than likely join us.”

Ricket peered at the map skeptically, unsure if Xerihan’s contact would be reliable. “You can guarantee that?” he finally asked.

Xerihan fixed his eyes at Ricket, leaning back in his chair with an air of certainty. “During times like these? It’s as close to a guarantee as you’ll find.”

---

A few hours had passed, and the gryphons were fully stocked up. Entering the local tavern, they ordered themselves some drinks. Xerihan pulled up a chair next to what seemed to be an older stallion, who was slouched over his drink in a stupor. Ricket pulled up a chair as well, and they both ordered one of the cheaper ales.

Ricket reached for his mug once it was served. “Oh Luna, I needed this,” he moaned, taking a swig of the alcohol. Xerihan half grinned, for once not feeling rushed to go anywhere or do something of importance. He sipped his own drink, feeling the bitterness wash down his throat. The most he could say was that it was cheap and cold, and that’s all he really cared about.

“Don’t drink too much, Ricket. We have to keep moving tomorrow, and it won’t be pleasant if you’re hungover,” he mildly warned his friend. Ricket shrugged, taking another gulp of his ale. “I’ll be fine, Xeri, I won’t overdo it. But you’re allowed to relax a little bit. I don’t think ‘they’ would try anything in the middle of a town.”

Xerihan grunted an affirmative, though his mind was still wrought over their situation. That’s what we thought when we started to run in Trottingham, and look what happened there. Can’t be too careful… never know when the Cult will [color=red]show up…[/color]

The door to the tavern swung open. Xerihan glanced at the door, curious of the new arrival. In walked a unicorn with a lute, who appeared haggard if not pleased.

The barkeep glanced at the arrival before he continued working and said, “Hey, Silbe. Standard rate and spot if you want to play.”

The unicorn Silbe, now identified as a bard or minstrel of some sort, grinned wider. “Thanks, Maury.” He trotted over to the corner of the tavern and magically lifted up his lute, readying to play. His lit horn drew attention, and regulars of the bar either looked his way or even made their way to sit near him.

“Xeri, I’m gonna sit over there, I think this guy might be good,” spoke Ricket, looking at the small crowd the minstrel was drawing. Xerihan nodded, taking another sip. “Knock yourself out, Ricket,” he neutrally replied.

Ricket stood up from the bar and, with his drink in claw, sauntered over to a seat near the unicorn. Xerihan peered over, lightly interested in the spectacle about to take place. This guy must be popular, he thought. Though not everyone seems so [color=red]happy[/color] about it…

On the other side of the bar, while some of the ponies seemed at least intrigued with the bard, others looked on with mild disdain as he started playing. This is odd… Xerihan thought. Something feels [color=red]off[/color] with this whole situation, and I [color=red]don’t like it…[/color]

The old stallion Xerihan was sitting next to suddenly stirred, hunching his back up in a cough. The assassin looked over curiously, wondering if he should do something or help the stallion. “Um…” he uttered. “Do you need help?” He realized his voice was probably a bit harsher than he intended.

The stallion waved him off, his coughing fit finished. “Yeah… yeah, just fine, actually,” the older pony rasped. “Not every day you wake up next to a guy you met on the road.”

Xerihan frowned. “I’m not sure we’ve met, actually. Are you okay? I mean, really.”

The stallion leaned back, inhaling like he had just come up for air from a deep dive. Then, he slammed back forward and pierced the assassin’s gaze with his own. “We have, Xerihan. Remember me?”

The face clicked instantly. “Flat Iron?” Xerihan hissed, his heart jumping into his throat in panic. Shit, he’s going to call me out on murdering his son. I’ve gotta get out, but I need to grab Ricket. Okay, need to stay calm. Stay calm.

“What are you - uh, nevermind. Are you okay, or…” he stammered, wondering what he could possibly even say, when he noticed the stitches on the older stallion’s throat.

His throat’s been slit.

Xerihan paused, his unease growing with each second. “...Who are you?” he finally asked, wanting to know answers.

The stallion that looked like Flat Iron merely chuckled. “Oh, you should know, Xerihan, that mind and body are almost never the same. Especially when you’re involved.”

When Xerihan didn’t respond, Flat Iron whispered with a glare, “Hey, Boss.”

Xerihan expelled his breath gradually, looking straight ahead at the back of the bar. A sense of dread overtook him. “Snap Freeze. What an unpleasant surprise,” he managed to wheeze.

Flat Iron nodded. “I imagined it would be as much. How’s your face, doing? I see you’ve covered it with some rags.”

Xerihan glared at the wall, not willing to turn to look at the stallion next to him. “It’s been better. Flames tend to ruin your complexion, though.”

Flat Iron barked out in laughter. “Ha! Still got a funny bone, I see.”

Xerihan glanced down, his beak twisted in disgust. “Snap, was this really necessary? Killing some old geezer and using his body to talk to me? You’re better than that.”

“Oh please,” the body of Flat Iron scoffed. “You’re in no position to tell me what’s better or worse, right or wrong.” The stallion took a drink, swallowing some of the ale in front of him. Xerihan absently wondered if the body would even be able to digest it, or if it would just sit in the stomach as the body decomposed -

Xerihan quickly shut down that line of thinking.

Flat Iron continued to speak after he had drunk his share. “Hmm… I’ll throw you a bone. I did this as much to talk to you as it was for my own safety. I’m offering you one last chance, boss.”

Xerihan glared sullenly at the body, listening to the offer.

“Come quietly,” Flat Iron insisted, “and we’ll let you and Ricket sit peacefully while we take you back to Trottingham. No guarantees when we get there, but I think it would be better than taking you down in a bloody fight in the middle of a tavern. Less bloodshed, and you’ll both get to live a bit longer. Quite a deal.”

Xerihan grasped his drink, his gloves dampening as condensation dripped down the glass. “That… sounds like a shitty deal,” he said plainly. “Why would I ever agree to die when I could fight and keep going?” he asked, staring down the body of Flat Iron

Flat Iron leaned in next to Xerihan, the subtle stench of decay slipping through his lips. “Because we have you surrounded. Both in here, and outside. You’d be lucky to make it five feet outside those doors, if you even got that far.”

Xerihan mentally cursed. ...He’s not bluffing. I know Snap, and he wouldn’t try this if he didn’t think he had an ace in the hole. Think, he’s speaking through a body, which means somebody needs to be controlling it. Not himself, he’s too careful to walk in here. Which means…

The assassin glanced around at the room, looking for any sign of magic.

Someone in here is puppeteering the body and letting him speak through it.

The only unicorn with his magic activated was the minstrel, still playing his lute mirthfully. If i’m wrong… he slowly reached for the explosive in his side pocket. This will be bad.

“Tell me, Xerihan, do you really think you can get away with this without you or Ricket becoming injured?” Flat Iron whispered.

Xerihan twitched, his wings flexing and his talons shuddering reflexively. The minstrel briefly glowed red, as did three others sitting in the small crowd, all smiling at the minstrel and - Xerihan noticed - glancing periodically at Ricket or himself. One was next to Ricket. Another was across from him, a pegasus. And then another unicorn, partially blocking Xerihan’s view of Ricket. They had his friend boxed in, and the gryphon didn’t even know it. I need to kill them.

“What’ll it be, Guidon?” the stallion hissed impatiently.

Xerihan shrugged, his mind made up. Sorry, Ricket. But there’s always some risk involved…

“I think you’ve always overlooked at least one detail when it comes to your plans, Snap.”

The elderly stallion, still controlled, frowned. “You’re really going to do this? Think, Xeri, just this once! You don’t need to make this more difficult than it already - irck!” The stallion stopped talking when Xerihan kicked him out of his chair. In a fluid motion, the gryphon landed and chucked the bomb he had been clutching. The three in the crowd already saw Xerihan kick away the thrall, while the minstrel had stopped laughing the moment his charge had been injured.

The bomb flew true, striking the minstrel in the back before detonating. A flash, chaos, ringing in the ears. The ponies and gryphons in the crowd fell over each other in shock. Xerihan didn’t hesitate. With his gloves hastily removed and thrown aside, he struck the nearest target, the unicorn. The target had been furthest from the blast, and was ready to shoot a magic bolt at Ricket when Xerihan tackled him. They rolled once, Xerihan clutching the unicorn’s neck from behind. After a short struggle in which the unicorn attempted to remove Xerihan’s claws, the assassin found his opportunity and cracked the unicorn’s neck against the ground.

He glanced up - the pegasus opposite of Ricket was still struggling to stand up. The earth pony next to him, though, was already fighting. Ricket was holding him off, though it was apparent he wouldn’t last long in his surprised state. As for the minstrel, the unicorn was face down in a pool of his blood, both of his legs sheared off above the knee. Xerihan had only one target to worry about at the moment.

With a leap, Xerihan cleared the moaning bodies below him and grabbed the aggressor’s throat with his claws. Two seconds of pressure was all it took to thoroughly shred the target’s neck. Xerihan distractedly wiped his claws, reaching to his friend. “Ricket, are you all right?”

Ricket shook his head, sitting up from where he had been laid out on the ground. “No, something in m’ shoulder…” his eyes suddenly shot open. “Behind-!”

Xerihan turned to see the pegasus rushing him, a dagger in hoof. He deflected the blade with his talons, but the pegasi’s momentum pushed them both over onto the ground. With no where to evade, Xerihan had to watch as the pegasus struck him with a hoof, cracking against his cheek. The pain enraged Xerihan, who immediately clawed at the pegasi’s face with his claws. He found his target, clawing an eye out and bloodying his appearance.

The pegasus screamed, lurching back with a hoof over his face. The dagger forgotten and belly exposed, Xerihan dug both sets of metal talons into the pegasi’s open chest. With a flick, the target’s belly was ripped open and the pegasus collapsed, viscera spreading out on the floor.

Wiping his claws again, Xerihan hauled Ricket up to his feet. The soldier looked down at the bloodied bodies and grimaced. “Haven’t seen you make a mess like that in years...” he stated, voice filled with disgust.

Xerihan grunted indifferently. “That’s why I prefer slicing the neck. Cleaner that way. Are you ready to move? Are you hurt?” he asked, noticing his friend wince as he stood.

“Yeah - something got me in my shoulder and in my waist. Hurts like a bitch. Ah ah, ah! OW!” Ricket roared, almost falling down again. Xerihan sighed.

“I’m sorry, it was my bomb. They would have gotten you if I hadn’t done something, but - shit, that looks bad…” The wounds Ricket had sustained weren’t life threatening, but it would hamper their escape. Moreover, Xerihan knew he had to staunch the bleeding, else Ricket would eventually die of blood loss.

With Ricket up and leaning on Xerihan, the two gryphons made their way out of the building. Xerihan spared a glance for Flat Iron as he grabbed his gloves, the older stallion finally at rest on the floor of the tavern. That made him look at the rest of the building, though, and what he saw disturbed him. Dozens of bodies, alive, dead, or somewhere in between, were scattered in the corner of the tavern. The barkeep and the patrons on the far side of the tavern had long cleared out. While Xerihan knew there had likely been other Cultists waiting to take him out in the bar, he surmised they must have had larger problems outside.

Xerihan sighed. Damnit, why did this have to happen!? Arrrggghh!!! I could have done better!

They were outside, in the town proper. While Xerihan hadn’t expected the situation to be calm, he wasn’t expecting to see yet another full on battle between Stormwing Hoplites and the Cultists in the streets.

The bomb must have alerted the guards, and when that happened… everything fell apart. The Cultists must have been found out, since they were trying to get at us in the tavern - Crap. Xerihan quickly dragged Ricket behind a building, seeing a Hoplite fly nearby, chased by a half dozen giggling ghosts. He peered out, checking the situation. We might be able to sneak away. Both sides are distracted, and Snap Freeze is probably running damage control.

Deep seated anger sparked in Xerihan’s mind. That son of a bitch!!! If he ever gets within ten feet of me, he’s going to lose his head! A thought grabbed Xerihan, and giddiness flowed in his veins.

I can find him. I know I can! He’ll be out somewhere, in the forest, issuing orders to retreat! I just need to find him! I can hide, and then SLIT. HIS. THROAT. Oh, I can imagine it now, sliding a blade across-

He was dragged out of his dark thoughts when Ricket coughed next to him. Xerihan glanced down, catching himself and realizing what he had just been thinking.

“Xeri… why aren’t we leaving? Xeri, we need to go… cough… we can’t stay here…” Ricket gasped next to him, his injuries taking a toll on his will to stay conscious. Xerihan nodded, hauling Ricket onto his back.

“Sorry, Ricket. Let’s get out of here.”

With the town in chaos as Cultists and Hoplites fought one another, the two gryphons slipped away into the forest, heading east into the bog.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

((Sorry for double posting, just want to get this out of the way))

---

A little more than two hours after the appearance of the Nightmare, Xerihan and Ricket had reached a small clearing in the forest. Roughly thirty meters in front of them lay a group of ten deer. Xerihan and Ricket observed the group, looking for any signs of weakness.

“Any of them look sick?” Xerihan asked.

“Can’t say. Too dark too make out their complexion,” replied Ricket.

“Any injuries? I don’t see any of them limping.”

“Nope. They all look to be in decent health to me.”

“Damn. Looks like we’ll need to take the youngest, then.”

Ricket nodded in agreement as they both righted themselves. “Alright. But let’s do this quickly. We’ve wasted enough time here as it is.”

As silently as they could, the two gryphons climbed up the tree. They avoided the leaves as best they could, and made riskier movement only when a breeze rustled through the air. At the top of their hiding spot, they silently leaped and glided to the next tree. They repeated this until they were within fifteen meters of the deer. Some of the deer had heard movement, but they had yet to notice the gryphons.

Ricket drew his bow as Xerihan crouched down and removed his gloves. “How do you want to do this?” whispered Ricket, taking aim with his bow.

“Aim for the leg of one of the smaller deer. That should slow it down enough for me to tackle and kill it. Less risk that way.” Xerihan answered coolly. “Ready?”

Ricket nodded. The soldier took aim, and he breathed in.

Below them, the deer were looking in their general direction. They were motionless, waiting for something to happen.

He breathed out.

An arrow loosed itself toward one of the closest deer, and slid through its head with ease.The deer collapsed in a heap as the rest of the herd stampeded off into the woods.

Xerihan floated down to the fallen doe and inspected it. It was dead, it’s breathing stopped permanently. He sighed. “That could have gone horribly wrong, Ricket. Why didn’t you just hit the leg like I asked?”

His friend glided down beside him, sheathing his bow. “Because I had the shot,” he answered simply. “Why waste time killing the poor thing?” Ricket asked rhetorically.

The assassin shook his head. He grabbed the arrow and pulled it out carefully before handing it back to Ricket. “No matter. Let’s skin it and be on our way.”

Ricket wiped the blood off of the arrow. After inspecting it for deformities, he returned it to his quiver. “Agreed. You can have the pleasure. I’ll keep watch.”

Minutes passed in silence, broken by the rasp of metal on skin. Gradually, the hide of the deer was removed. Xerihan cleaned his claws and the hide before tucking the offering into his bag.

“Alright, we’re ready to move,” Xerihan said, eager to leave the clearing.

“Gotcha, let’s-” Ricket responded before his eyes glinted with alarm. Leaving his statement unfinished, he drew his bow and loosed an arrow. It flew and struck a Giggling Ghost, which had been watching them for an undetermined amount of time. As the specter dissolved into nothingness, Xerihan immediately dug into the deer’s carcass. Digging into the body with his claws, he managed to grab the heart and put it into his bag. “Run!” he yelled, having made sure the body was not wasted.

The two gryphons hurriedly left the clearing, knowing the Cult would be following them. They caught a glimpse of a ghostly rabbit, ethereal and entirely unnatural. “There!” Ricket cried, as they followed the rabbit to where the Goddess of Hunting would surely be.

---

A few kilometers away, Snap Freeze waited for the ghosts to return. One by one, they flew by, whispering to him what they had discovered. He gazed at the bodies of the caravan below him dispassionately while he learned where his quarry had went.

“They left the road, and went into the forest…” he pondered softly, nudging the body of an older stallion. “What could they be planning…?”

As the revelers and jesters under his command gathered the bodies of the family they had found, Snap Freeze ordered them to stop. “Xerihan and Ricket were here. They likely killed the lookout. Keep the bodies fresh for now, but don’t turn them yet. They may yet be of use.”

Looking back at the giggling ghosts that flew about, he ordered, “Trail the gryphons further. Stay out of sight, and alert me to any changes in the situation.” The ghosts all bobbed in midair, their macabre smiles and alert eyes sparking in comprehension. Away they flew, to trail the gryphons that had betrayed the Cult.

Snap Freeze looked at the tree line, watching his subordinates go about their tasks.

What are you two traitors doing…

---

Only a few minutes had passed since the sentinel hopped off towards the nearby city, and Theá, disguised as a doe, found herself just staring at the miniature empire.

She let out a sigh and shuffled for a more comfortable position. I hope she has become a little more humble in the past three months… she wasn’t always like this. It had been three months since they had landed on Equestria and, if the city was of any indication, then she hadn’t changed much. She sighed and was about to try and get a little sleep when she sensed a prickle in the back of her mind.

She stood up and turned around, beady eyes staring intently at the tree line not even a hundred strides away from her.

Gryphons? she thought when a pair of such creatures bolted out from the trees. What’re they doing here? She decided to keep playing the role of a deer rather than alicorn for the time being. There was a chance they’d say, or do, something in the presence of a “mindless animal” that they would in intelligent company.

Xerihan and Ricket jumped through one last piece of brush as they followed the spectral rabbit, coming out to the edge of the forest. When the rabbit stopped, they expected to see an alicorn of some kind. Instead, another deer was simply lying in the grass. Xerihan glanced around, looking for some evidence of an alicorn. His breathing was hitched, and Ricket simply panted heavily when he saw there was nothing there.

“What the hell… we followed the rabbit, didn’t we?” Xerihan snarled. Ricket simply shrugged as he continued to pant. “I don’t know, Xeri. Gah… that was a hell of a run…”

Xerihan, frustrated, plodded over to the rabbit, which was just sitting calmly in the open. “You! You’re supposed to lead us to Theá, aren’t you!? Where is she? Argh, the Cult’s going to catch up, and you’re just sitting there! All that’s here is some damn doe!”

Ricket simply stared at Xerihan as he ranted, then looked at the motionless deer. Funny, he thought. It’s not moving at all, and we could just reach out and touch it…

“Xeri,” he called out. Said gryphon turned around with a scowl. “What is it?” he growled.

“That deer. It’s not moving. Might have something to do with the goddess.”

The cloaked assassin glanced at the deer and noted how it wasn’t moving. In fact, now that he thought about it, the doe hadn’t bolted when they first came running into the clearing. “Huh…” he muttered, some of his frustration gone. “Maybe the rabbit did something. Think I should try talking to the deer?”

Ricket shrugged. “I don’t know, Xeri. Look, if we don’t get moving soon or find Theá, the Cult will catch up. Talk to it if you want, but we can’t stay here for long.”

While the two bickered over what they should do, two giggling ghosts slowly approached the clearing. One was overhead, in the trees, while the other watched from the side behind some bushes.

They were looking for me. She glanced briefly between the two, noting how they both bore signs of travel, and not a leisurely one but a quick and rushed travel. As if they were fleeing from something. She shook her head briefly, trying to keep it as deer-like as possible. Of course they were. They mentioned- her head snapped to a place above the two gryphons, eyes no longer docile but sharp and focused.

“The Cult,” she snarled, loud enough for the gryphons to hear her even through their own bickering.

Grasping only a tiny fraction of her power, Theá - the doe - formed two blue arrows of pure energy. They hovered beside her for a second and, as she shed her disguise, shot towards the two giggling ghosts, impaling both and destroying them before they had the time to blink or even realise that they were being attacked.

Before the gryphons stood no longer a docile deer, but an aqua green alicorn with a nutty brown mane and tail, both tied up in a braid. Her wings were spread out in a display of raw power and intimidation, their massive span a testament to the power contained within her body. She snorted briefly before her gaze snapped to the two gryphons. She said nothing, just looked.

The gryphons winced and ducked as they heard the arrows form and fire. “What in Tartarus…” Xerihan muttered as the arrows struck their targets. Turning around, the gryphons saw something that could only be described as majestic and terrifying. The doe that had been laying so calmly had transformed into a massive alicorn.

Guess the rabbit was right after all… Xerihan reflected, stunned by the sudden appearance of the goddess. He found that he couldn’t move. He was torn between running away from the alicorn and simply chucking the hide in hopes of averting her wrath. Before he could decide, Ricket spoke up.

“Theá Erímo, Goddess of the Hunt!” proclaimed Ricket, his face stoic but voice reverent if shaky, “we have come seeking your favor, and we would be humbled to offer you a gift!” The gryphon bowed, then motioned frantically at Xerihan.

The assassin realized he was still just standing in shock. With haste he withdrew the deer’s hide from his bag and held it in front of him. “For you,” he said softly, bowing lightly in the presence of the god.

I really hope this wasn’t a bad idea… Xerihan thought queasily.

Seeing that the danger - or annoyance in this case - was over, Theá calmed down a bit and folded her wings at her sides. Her eyes softened significantly but remained stern.

She eyed the hide. “You come seeking my favour? Why?”

The back of Xerihan’s throat dried up. “Because… because we desire to become better hunters, and we would be humbled to follow the Goddess of the Hunt,” he said, his voice cracking.

Ricket decided to add on. “We came across one of your followers, not so long ago. A Nightmare. He suggested we find you, and that’s what he have done for the past few hours.”

She stepped closer, looking down at them. “I sense only half-truths spoken, the full truth hidden.” She shook her head. “No matter. You bear an offering, I see. A proof of your worth, I take it?” The hide was surrounded and lifted off of the ground in an emerald glow. It slowly turned around to let Theá inspect it.

“A fine trophy,” she conceded, letting the hide down in front of the gryphons again. “But answer me this, mortals, why were those creatures following you?” She briefly waved a wing at where the Giggling Ghosts had been just moments prior. “The cult does not follow individuals without due course.”

At this question, Xerihan stumbled. He did not wish to reveal his true origins, though straight up lying would likely fail. At this point, he regretted not creating up a backstory beforehand, though it was understandable considering he had been on the run almost constantly since he arrived back at Trottingham.

For all his thought, all he could say was, “Um…”

“Because we betrayed the Cult,” Ricket stated with emotionless conviction.

Xerihan gawked at Ricket in horror. “Ricket!” he hissed, half in fury and half in terror.

Of all the possible answers that Theá could have gotten, this was certainly not one she expected. One eyebrow had been raised as if by its own volition, betraying her surprise at the reply.

“You betrayed the Cult?” They were a part of the cult, but aren’t anymore. They abandoned their vile ways and sought me out, likely the most hated enemy of the cult at this point in time, in an attempt to gain my favour. Her eyes swept over them repeatedly, seemingly searching for something. What to do with them? They no longer count as my prey per se, so killing them would violate my own rules. She sighed and glanced behind the two, stretching her mind just a little further to try and sense anything or anyone hiding in the trees. She found nothing.

“Tell me your story. You mentioned a Nightmare that lead you to me. What happened before you met him?”

Xerihan sighed. In many ways, he felt defeated, and his urge to run diminished, if only slightly. “We were walking the roads at night, trying to reach Muddy Hooves from Trottingham. He found us and advised us to seek you out. That’s all.”

Ricket glanced at his friend. “Xeri, don’t even bother. Just tell her,” he said wearily.

Xerihan would have slapped his friend if they were not in the presence of a being that could squash them instantaneously. Curbing that urge, he snorted angrily. “Fine! We robbed a family that was on their way to Trottingham, and when one of them saw us I killed him in panic. We ran after that, and that’s when the Nightmare accosted us. Are you satisfied, Ricket?”

Said gryphon simply nodded as continued to bow. “I’m just trying to keep you honest, Xeri.”

Xerihan scoffed. “Then you’re picking a really bad time to do that.”

Theá nodded once. As they were at the moment, she doubted that she’d get much more out of them without forcing it out. Sure, she could intimidate them into giving her a detailed description of what had happened before they met the Nightmare, but that wasn’t important.

“Meelo,” she called.

A shadow seemingly rose from the earth beside the gryphon whose face was not obscured by a mask. “Yes, Theá?”

“This family they speak of, if the cult is chasing them there is a chance that they may have fallen victim to the cult. Regardless of whether or not that is the case, return to where you last saw them, find the one this gryphon killed and burn the body. Do the same with the others if the cult found and killed them. If, however, they are already turned, then you know what to do.”

“Aye, aye, Mistress!” He raised a forehoof in salute and sped off, darting through the shadows of the forest as if they were parts of himself.

The goddess shook her head, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. He never ceases to amuse me.

To the gryphons she said. “I will not applaud you for killing an innocent, but that is a minor complaint in the face of what you two have done. Not many have the courage to defy the Cult and join their enemy the same way you two have.” A pause. “Will you two accept my Blessing?”

Xerihan sighed. Finally. At least she won’t kill us, so that’s something more than what most others would do.

Partially looking up, Xerihan nodded and said, “Yes.” Ricket looked up to Theá fully and replied, “It would be an honor.”

She half unfurled her wings, holding them in a position that made it seem like she was about the embrace the two gryphons. A ball of something resembling a mix of light and liquid hovered at the tip of each wing, no larger than a golf ball. “Your names?” She asked.

“Xerihan.”

“Ricket.”

Nodding once, Theá moved her wings forward until the small orbs were almost touching their chests. “You have proven yourself capable hunters, showed courage to boot. You have defied my enemy and turned to me instead. Commendable in its own right, to be sure, but I know you are capable of more. Doubly so with this.” She touched the tips of her wings to their chests, the orb passing into them and quickly spreading, covering their entire bodies in an emerald glow before dying down just a few seconds later.

The two gryphons shivered as the magic flowed and entered their bodies. Xerihan couldn’t help but shake a sense of both dread and hope. Dread, because he had bound himself to yet another host. Hope, because he would actually have a chance of surviving the latest chapter of his life. Eventually, curiosity overcame him.

“If I may ask, what did you just do to us? Or rather, give to us?” asked the assassin.

“A piece of my essence, or soul as you mortals call it.” Her wings folded back at her sides and she sat down on the grass in front of them. “The boon I granted you will allow you to better hide in the wilderness. Let’s compare it to a foal’s game; Hide and Seek. Where you would normally be found second to last, with this blessing there’s a significant chance that you will be the last one to be found and, as such, the winner of the game.”

“In other words, merely wanted to hide when you are surrounded by the wild will allow you to hide. Do note, however, that you can still be found, and just standing beside a tree will not be enough; invisibility is not within my domain.”

Xerihan nodded. “And if we desire to contact you? I assume I would need to talk to one of your thralls?”

“They are not thralls, but creatures summoned and created by me. They are sentinels, messengers and scouts. Alternatively they can be a combat force. But that is unimportant. What’s important is that, yes, you can use them to contact me. They are capable of carrying short verbal messages, so give them a message and inform them that it is for me and they will come to me.”

She stood up again and stretched her wings before settling them back at her sides. “Do not think that my boon comes for free. You have proven yourself worthy, yes, but there is yet a price to pay. Being a part of my followers means that I expect you to gather information and deliver it to me, either through my sentinels or in person. My goal is to find Elder Sister Celestia and Elder Sister Luna, as well as bring back a balance to the world.”

“Of course,” Xerihan replied. “If that is all, Huntress, I would take my leave.”

Ricket nodded, silently asking the same question.

Theá returned their nod. “If you wish. I advise caution, however. Even with my boon the cult may still find you.” She turned around and returned the her previous spot, eyes locked on the city in the distance.

Taking the warning into consideration, Xerihan wordlessly trudged back into the forest, followed by Ricket. Their direction was roughly where Muddy Hooves would be. As they left and the rustle of leaves faded down, Theá was left alone at the edge of the forest.

---

Snap Freeze walked through the forest, leading his band of Cultists. They had left most of the physical items of the family back at the carriages, though their bodies were now being hauled with the troupe.

A single ghost came barreling through the forest, stopping in front of the grim Jester. It whispered to him, and he nodded in thanks.

They allied themselves with the Goddess of the Hunt. Unexpected. Which means I shouldn’t attempt to locate them directly for now.

Stopping the caravan momentarily, Snap Freeze pulled out a map, looking for where his targets might be. He noted the roads and where the forest stopped. Unless they wish to strain themselves by walking the plains, in open sight with no water, they would have to either take one of the rivers or continue to Muddy Hooves.

Snap Freeze looked at the point that was named, ‘Greyfeathers Encampment’. He is still antagonistic to the the gryphons. That would likely be a death wish for him, to head back north. Concluding that Xerihan likely wouldn’t travel there, he looked at the next dot, ‘Greenway’. Much too far to travel on foot. Xerihan would likely stay near the rivers, and doing that means travelling at least in proximity to Muddy Hooves.

He knew his target. Calling over two groups of ghosts, he ordered one of the groups to stay in position near the gryphon encampment, and the other to stay in Greenway. Xerihan and Ricket likely wouldn’t be there, but Snap Freeze would prefer to keep in the know if he deviated from expectations.

“Troupe! We will continue on to Muddy Hooves through the night, and we will make camp outside the town wall. We’ll wait for the traitor there, and corner him when he lets his guard down. Now move! Double time!”

We’ll arrive before he does, and set a trap. Hopefully we can end this farce and make him see the truth for his mistake. Nobody disappoints the Laughing Mare.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

The walk towards Muddy Hooves bore no conversation. Xerihan and Ricket had nothing to say about what had happened, and even if they did, they were already absorbed in their own thoughts and worries. It had been a few hours since they left, and already the weight of their new reality was settling in like a crushing wave.

It was in this state of unease and contemplation that Xerihan suddenly heard a cart from behind them. Surprised, he turned around and saw a cart coming over a hill behind them, a lantern lighting up an unusually large pony pulling the cart with two others inside. What the hell…? That’s coming from Trottingham, who could have escaped with all of that chaos?

As the cart approached, both Xerihan and Ricket stared at it intently, too stunned and curious to do much else. Just as the cart passed them, Xerihan caught a glimpse of one of the ponies in the cart - and he was sure the stallion stared right back.

As the cart sped off along the road, Xerihan looked at Ricket incredulously. “Ricket, I think that was Dr. Charred.”

“The crazy SOB that took in our wounded and had a habit of making them ‘disappear’ when they weren’t supposed to? You mean THAT Dr. Charred?”

“Yeah… Looks like he managed to escape the riots in Trottingham…” Xerihan muttered.

“Shit. Well, as long as he doesn’t bother us…” Ricket replied, already shaking off the startling sight.

“Yeah… hey, we should get some rest. Let’s get off the road and into one of the trees, we can probably use a night’s rest.” Xerihan suggested.

“Sounds good.”

---

He fell. Fell, and fell, and fell. He fell so far that he could no longer see the sun, nor the moon, nor the stars which had condemned him to his fate. He fell until what he was no longer existed, and what he feared became the reality of the world around him.

There was a stab of pain, right between his wings. He managed to turn himself over, to look into the abyss he knew he was sinking into. When he saw it, he screamed wordlessly. Below, was a pink, rotted face, smiling as it opened its maw and devoured Xerihan whole.

---

Birds chirped. Leaves crinkled and fell as a soft breeze wafted through the trees. The temperature wasn’t too hot, nor too cold - a fine day by any measure. Xerihan flung open his eyes, his chest heaving and claws digging into the bark beneath him. Ricket looked over from his own branch, mutedly observing his friend. He spoke.

“Xeri. Calm down. It was just a dream, mate.”

The assassin breathed deeply for several seconds, slowing his beating heart. He finally smacked his lips and fell limp on the branch. “How… how long have we been sleeping?” he whispered.

Ricket shrugged before he jumped out and glided to the ground. His gear clattered as he landed. “Only for a couple of hours. Dawn was about an hour and a half ago. We have a decent lead in case someone tried to track us down, but it’d be better to stay on the move.”

Xerihan grunted. With effort, he rolled over and fell to the earth below, only opening his wings to soften the landing a couple of meters above the ground. He rolled his wings, feeling his cloak shift. “So… Muddy Hooves. Seems like that’s our only real option at the moment. You have a map?”

Ricket shook his head. “No. I only have a few supplies. My bow and arrows, two knapsacks, some extra clothing… well, you need the knapsack. Catch.” Ricket tossed the brown bag to Xerihan, who neglected to catch it. Rather than risk tearing it up, he instead picked it up carefully with his metal talons.

“Sometimes I think you forget I have daggers for claws, Ricket,” Xerihan clucked. “Do you have gloves?”

“Yeah, here.”

They exchanged the clothing, Xerihan hiding his metal claws with the soft fabric. He grumbled out, “These won’t last long. I need to find something that’s high quality, something that won’t chafe away...”

Ricket shrugged, before hefting his knapsack around his back. “Don’t know what to say, Xeri. We’ll just have to make do for now. You ready to head out?”

Xerihan considered the situation. He slowly rubbed the metal side of his face. “No. Just give me a minute, I’ll be ready soon.”

Xerihan took off his gloves and laid out two shirts he had snatched the night before. He carefully cut them up in dozens of long strips. With care so as not to hurt himself, he wrapped them around his face, covering up the melted mask along with the rest of his features. He tied them up at the back of his head, interlacing them so they wouldn’t move in the slightest. When he finished, only his beak and his eyes were visible. The area around his left eye was marked with little ridges; a close inspection would reveal that something was underneath those rags. But for a cursory inspection, Xerihan would just appear to have a wrappings all over his face.

The only clue that Xerihan might have been a member of the Cult was a sliver of bronze that peeked out from around his left eye. He couldn’t cover it up, not unless he desired to experience life partially blind. So he left it, knowing his hooded cloak would still keep most from seeing his face. He walked back to Ricket, who motioned with his claws to hurry up. “Ready now?”

Xerihan nodded, taking the lead down the road. “Yeah. Let’s move.”

---

The duo walked the road for hours. Neither complained about their situation, though they both were lost in their own thoughts. For Xerihan, however, his thoughts started to drift into pain. The last time he had taken some Salt had been before his near-execution by the Cult. Now it was midday, and his body ached. In particular, the constant pain in his claws was returning. Using the drug had calmed him and dulled the pain; at the moment, Xerihan could only think of taking the drug to dull how he felt.

It didn’t help that he felt the need to take the drug just as a matter of course. After years of addiction and its familiarity, Xerihan found himself unconsciously reaching for the small pouch on his side.

Ricket cast a sideways glance at his friend, and he grabbed Xerihan’s arm. “Xeri. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Xeri ripped his arm away from Ricket, snarling. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Ricket! I just need a little bit and I’ll be fine!” He reached for the pouch again.

Ricket slapped Xerihan’s claw away from the pouch. “Listen, Xeri! We don’t have access to more Salt, and we don’t have any money! Just taking more isn’t going to help you, not in the long run!”

Xerihan glared at Ricket, debating whether to hit him or not. But after a moment, his friend’s words struck home, and he realized Ricket was right. The assassin looked at the ground, his teeth gritted in frustration and mild horror.

Ricket took the chance and continued. “Besides, what about Pinkie Powder? That stuff links you directly to the Cult, and you’re addicted to the damn thing! If you keep taking Salt, you’re just keeping that link alive longer. Look, Xeri-”

Ricket stopped, thinking carefully about what he would say. He proceeded slowly. “I didn’t have a problem with you taking that shit while we were in the Cult. But we’re on the run now, and that stuff is letting them keep a hold on you. If we’re really going to make a clean break, you have to stop this. Now or never. Because… dammit, the Cult ain’t taking us back. You need to do this.”

Xerihan clutched the bag of precious Salt, and he sighed.

He’s right. It’s a hindrance, it’s a bad link, it’s holding me back. No, even worse - it got me into this situation. The assassin recalled how he had started taking the substance back in his army days, and how it had gotten him kicked out with no claws. He had barely survived that, and it had led him to the Cult. Which is trying to kill me now. Fuck.

Another voice spoke in his head. Don’t do that… just keep it. It can’t hurt, it makes you feel good… look, your claws are bleeding again… It hurts, doesn’t it? Why not use it, make the pain disappear… Ricket will understand…

Xerihan looked back up to Ricket. His friend was staring at him, waiting for his answer. He choked, not sure what to do.

I can’t… I need to stop this. Now.

Nonsense. You can always get more. Sell things if you need to… steal it… murder for it… you know how. You can tell the junkies from the dealers. It would be easy… so, so easy…

Xerihan grunted. No! I’m not doing-

“ARGH!!” he yelled, clutching his head in pain. He gasped for air, trying to come to an answer.

Ricket shook him, trying to grab his attention. “Xerihan! Think! You know what to do. Just do it, before you can take it back!”

Xerihan shook his head. He’s right. Just throw it. Throw it!

Don’t you DARE!

The assassin shot up into the air before chucking the bag of Salt as far as he could. It landed in the forest below, well away from the path. Xerihan gulped, trying to calm down.

Oh god, I’m going cold turkey, I’m going to feel the need, it’s going to hurt, son of a bitch I feel it already, why did I do that, gah!

Oh, you will regret this… just think of all that exquisite pain you’ve inflicted. It’ll be returned to you ten fold, as your mind chews itself up in agony. Oh, just think of the pain…

Xerihan floated back down, hyperventilating as the realization of what he just did caught up to him. Ricket was there immediately. “Hey, hey, you did it, it’s alright now. You made the right choice, Xeri, it’s for your own good. Can you hear me? Xeri, you don’t look good… Come on… Don’t do… have to walk… Xerihan!” Ricket’s voice faded away.

---

When Xerihan woke up, he was inside a small carriage that was rocking to and fro. He could feel every pulse of blood flowing into his head, driving a new spike of pain there a couple times every second. He groaned, feeling bile in his throat.

“Xeri? You awake?” came a voice.

The cloaked assassin rolled over, and he peeked out at the flap of the carriage. Ricket was there, looking in with concern. Xerihan noted his friend’s gaunt expression. “Ricket? Ugh… My head is killing me… what happened?”

Ricket sighed and sat down. “You passed out. Pretty sure you were having a panic attack at the thought of not having Salt.”

At that, a pang of fear shot through Xerihan’s heart. Oh no…

His expression must have been clear, because Ricket nodded. “Yup. It’s for your own good, Xeri. You’ll be fine, just so long as you take it easy.”

Xerihan’s fear was replaced by anger instantaneously. “Take it easy? Take it easy!? Ricket, we’re on the run, and we’re probably being hunted by the Cul-”

Ricket lunged forward in panic and shut Xerihan’s beak. He spoke in a frenzied whisper. “Xeri, don’t yell that out loud! While you were out, I found a family heading to Muddy Hooves. They agreed to carry you in exchange for some clothes, but they don’t know who we are or what happened in Trottingham! Keep your voice down so we don’t get attacked!”

Xerihan breathed in and out heavily, trying to keep his anger in check. He nodded. Ricket let his beak go. “Okay,” Xerihan murmured. “I’ll keep quiet. Now, where are we?”

Ricket leaned back, pulling out a map. “Well, lucky for us, they lent us a map. We should be about halfway to Muddy Hooves right now. It’s almost dusk, so the family we’re with will likely stop to rest soon. When that happens, we should leave quietly and continue on our way. Quick and easy, and we’ll keep the lead we have on our ‘friends’.”

“Okay,” Xerihan replied softly.

Fifteen minutes later, the carriage did indeed stop. Both gryphons climbed out of the back of the carriage, and walked out to where the pony family they were traveling with were making camp. Xerihan kept his hood low, only revealing his beak. Ricket simply plodded forward, keeping a neutral expression. He whispered carefully, “They heard your name before, so don’t bother coming up with a fake name.”

The family that was gathered was fairly large; three stallions, four mares, and two children. The eldest stallion - an older stallion who looked to be in his sixty’s - beckoned them forward. “So, you’re finally awake, hmm? You and your friend Ricket here were in a dire state when we found you. My name is Flat Iron, and this here is the Iron family. My wife, Lily-” an older mare waved genially - “My two sons, Hot-Weld and Temper-” the other stallions nodded carefully, one with a small frown - “their wives and my daughters-in-law, Feather and Bridgette-” two of the other mares smiled softly - “my daughter, Silver-” the last mare glared at the gryphons non-subtly - “and finally, my grandchildren, Rocky and Gellner,” the two children hid behind their respective mothers’ legs.

Flat Iron paused, holding a hoof out to Xerihan. “So, may I have your name, stranger?”

Xerihan carefully grasped the elder’s hoof, trying not to grip hard enough for his metal talons to be felt through the gloves. “I’m Xerihan. You have my thanks for helping us; I probably wasn’t heading anywhere fast when you found us.” The two parted, Xerihan tugging his hood lower.

Flat Iron regarded him carefully. “You’re very much welcome, and no, I’m afraid you weren’t,” he replied with a half smile. “Now, I heard you’re travellers from up north, and I can tell you this much: it’s a bad time to be wandering Equestria, especially just the two of you. Bandits, cultists, wild animals even. Not to mention the armies that occasionally march through, along with the rumors of alicorns returning. So what could two gryphons like yourselves be doing down here in these troubling times?”

Xerihan and Ricket glanced at each other. “Umm…” Ricket started, before Xerihan calmly replied with, “We’ve been sent as envoys from the gryphon states. Unfortunately, we’ve lost our way. Once we reach Muddy Hooves, I believe we’ll be able to head back north.”

Flat Iron nodded. “Fair enough.” He looked back at his standing family, the gulf between the two parties evident. Flat Iron harrumphed good-naturedly. “Ah, look at me prattle on. Come, let’s start the fire before it gets too late. And please, stay awhile longer. Travellers like us need to stick together in times like this.”

The older pony beckoned them to follow, and so the gryphons did.

While they walked, Flat Iron asked one last question. “So, I noticed you wrapped your face up… I imagine you’ve got something to hide.” His voice wasn’t filled with malice, but the question still riled Xerihan. He decided to reply as calmly as he could.

“In a manner of speaking. Before I was a diplomatic envoy, I was a soldier. My squad was attacked by a manticore at one point, and though we killed it, we lost some good men and my face was scarred. I don’t like to show my face in general - it’s nothing personal.”

Flat Iron grunted. “Of course. Didn’t mean no disrespect, it’s just uncommon to find a fella that won’t show his face, is all. Even for a gryphon.”

Xerihan laughed mirthlessly at that.

You don’t even know the half of it.

---

That night, the large group ate and made small talk, discussing things as trivial as the weather and as serious as the recent arrival of the alicorns. Hours passed, and one by one the family of ponies retreated into their carriages for the night. Soon enough, only Flat Iron, Temper, Xerihan, and Ricket were still up. As Flat Iron and Temper talked, Ricket waved fro Xerihan to follow him. They retreated away from the dulling campfire, and Ricket whispered to his friend.

“[size=1]Xeri, I think we should get ready to go. I’ll head to a tree to sleep in, and you talk until they head to bed. Meet up with me and we’ll head out. Sound good?[/size]”

Xerihan glanced back at the fire, where Temper and Flat were still discussing something. “Not yet. Ricket, we need money, we need supplies. We’ll do what you suggested, but let’s take some money for ourselves. When you head out, wait for them to head to bed. Then we’ll take what we need and head out.”

Ricket glared at him. “Seriously, Xerihan? After what they’ve done for us, you’d really think of stealing from them? They’re just travellers, for Luna’s sake! We can steal stuff once we reach Muddy Hooves, but let’s leave these poor folk alone.”

Xerihan scoffed. “Don’t act so damn high and mighty, Ricket. We’ve both killed for trivial things, and we’ve both done horrible things under the Cult. I don’t understand why you think we should treat this family should be any different.”

Ricket was about to forcefully respond when Temper called out to them. “Hey, you two done talking over there? We’re about to put out the fire!”

Ricket swore, and Xerihan leaned in. “Just do it, Ricket! I’ll distract them if I need to, but you can't deny we need more supplies. We stay with them, the Cult will catch up and they will die. And they’re well off; they won’t miss a few bits.”

For a moment, Xerihan wasn’t sure what Ricket would do. Finally, his friend relented. “Son of a - fine, I’ll do it! But don’t act like this isn’t underhanded, even for you.” With that, Ricket winged back over and bid the two ponies good night. Xerihan shook his head, looking out into the dark forest. “I’m an assassin, Ricket... I’m always underhanded.”

---

Flat Iron had gone to bed inside one of the carriages, while Temper had elected to stay out and keep watch. He had fallen asleep, though, and the gryphons took their advantage. Ricket and Xeri quietly pilfered the two carriages, taking random clothing, items, food, and bits.

They stuffed their knapsacks, and were about to head out when Ricket tripped, his bag rattling loudly in the silent night. Xerihan froze, looking for any sign of movement. He put a talon to his beak, signalling for Ricket to be quiet. The ponies in the carriages didn’t stir; they had been asleep for too long. But Temper, who had only recently dozed off, flinched awake.

“Hmohuwhat!?” he mumbled as he blinked away his nap. His eyes focused on Ricket, and then on Xerihan. He saw their filled knapsacks, and how they were both staring at him. It took a moment, but it finally clicked in his brain. “H-Hey! You thieves, stop-”

Without hesitation, Xerihan ripped off his glove and leaped forward. Before Temper could move, his throat was torn apart, his cries dying in a bloody gurgle. Xerihan laid the body down gently, wiping his talons before replacing his glove. Ricket shook with rage, but he was quiet. Like two winged phantoms, they departed the camp and flew down the road.

When they were far away enough, Ricket tugged on Xerihan’s bag and dragged both of them down to the ground. They stumbled as they landed, and Ricket rounded on his friend. “Xeri, what the actual FUCK!? Why did you kill him!?”

Xeri patted down his cloak to scatter the dust. “Because he was about to wake everyone up, and that would have gotten ugly fast. I just did what I had to do.”

His friend simply stared at him, his mouth agape. “Xerihan, what the hell are you talking about!? You could have knocked him out instead of killing him! Actually, we didn’t even need to steal! It’s only because of your insistence we did that, and now there’s a father missing a son, a wife missing a husband, a child missing his father! Do you even care? Xeri!”

Xerihan waved off the his friend’s concerns. “I know what I did, Ricket, you don’t need to lecture me about it.”

That only served to enrage the other gryphon. “Do you? Do you really know what you did? Xerihan, what you did in Trottingham was under orders, so you had to! But now we’re on our own, so you have to accept the fact that no one’s killing people other than you! Not a superior, not a priest!”

He’s right, again… Xerihan thought begrudgingly. He grimaced, sliding his talons together absent-mindedly. I probably would have been able to subdue him… but killing was the easier option… wait. Xerihan’s ear twitched.

“Wait,” he repeated, this time verbally.

“What, Xeri!?” Ricket yelled angrily, wondering why his friend wasn’t answering his question. Xerihan merely shushed him.

“I hear something… someone might be watching. I say we keep moving.”

Ricket snorted in disgust. “Fine. Nicely done, avoiding my question like always.” He started to walk, as Xerihan peered out into the pitch black forest.

---

There was a faint rustling of leaves as a shadow came to life and moved away from the spectacle. It had been following the family for some time, figuring that they may be of use for its mistress.

Seeing the hooded stranger slice open the throat of one of the family had given him another goal, and that was to follow the two gryphons, one of which was the murderer. He bore no grudge against him, and did not seek to avenge the family. He could always return to them.

The faint rustle of more leaves to his left caught his attention. He looked to the side and met the eyes of a transparent fox. Their eyes locked and, after some time, the shadow nodded.

One of her sentinels. So that’s what they are. Interesting couple. He glided further, not making a single sound as he moved on closer to the two gryphons. He didn’t know their names, but their previous profession was something he had just been told.

Silent as a ghost he followed the two, trailing parallel to them just a few metres away, obscured both by the blessing and his own abilities. He was as good as invisible to them, silent as the grave to boot. The only thing that might give him away were his two, white eyes. No iris, only a white that seemed to shine like the moon itself.

I’d rather I reveal myself than they find me first. He took to the air, rising as if defying gravity rather than flying with wings.

Branches and trunks passed through him, the occasional bat didn’t even notice him as it flew through his body. He would’ve smirked if he could.

A few moments passed before he was right above them, and then dove down.

He landed in front of the two gryphons, appearing as a hovering, pony-like phantom of a dark blue, almost black, colour with pupil-less eyes that shone like the moon. There was no mouth to speak of, and the only thing decorating his body save the eyes were the shadowy mane and tail that flickered like fire, and the horn rising proudly from his head.

“Hello.” His voice was deep and shattered the stillness of the night.

Ricket jumped backward at the sudden appearance of the phantom, drawing his bow quickly and taking aim. “Whoa! Back up, pal!” he snarled, his anger with Xerihan bleeding into his speech.

Xerihan prepared to loosen a glove when he noticed the ethereal appearance of this pony. He racked his brain for what he could be, when he remembered a briefing he had seen once. A Nightmare, Xerihan realized. Judging by this pony’s appearance, the assassin wouldn’t be able to lay a claw on him - though by the same token, Xerihan wouldn’t be harmed either.

“Ricket, put that down. You can’t hurt him, and he can’t hurt us. Now, what do you want? We’re two very busy travellers, and I’d like to reach Muddy Hooves before dawn,” he spoke crisply, wary of the sudden appearance of a Moon and Star Nightmare.

“Not busy enough for a detour to kill some innocents?” There was a certain amount of mirth in the way he spoke, as if he didn’t seem to really care all that much. Either that, or he just wanted to poke fun at them. “And you should listen to your friend. If I wanted to, you’d both be dead right now, so put the bendy-play-stick down, if you will.” A chuckle escaped him, and this one was definitely one of mirth.

Ricket put the bow down reluctantly, distrust and sheer frustration still showing on his face. Xerihan lowered his head further, so the Nightmare wouldn’t be able to see his face. “You didn’t answer my question. And how I spend my time is none of your concern. So I ask again: what do you want, Nightmare?”

“What do I want? Oh ho ho ho… Nope! Wrong question!” He suddenly seemed to fall through the earth, only for his upper body to appear from the gryphon’s chest and look him right in the eyes. Even without a mouth, it was easy for the gryphon to see his smile, a smile that spoke of his secret not being so easily hidden from such a close proximity. “The question is, what do you want? Why are two former assassin’s of the Cult killing a random stranger - one that helped him to boot - when he could’ve just knocked him out, or without taking out the others and converting them into play dolls?” He flew out of the gryphons chest and returned to his previous position in front of them, hovering a good ten centimetres above the ground.

“You want something that isn’t the same as what the Cult wants, right?” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

Ricket spoke before Xerihan could reply. “We never said we were Cultists, freak. What makes you sure-”

“Calm down Ricket,” Xerihan sighed. “He obviously knows. And to answer you, it was more efficient to simply kill him, and because that’s not my goal. Frankly, subversion has never been my goal.”

Xerihan smacked his lips. “You already seem to have us figured out. Try this on for size: the Cult wants to kill us. Guess how we feel about that.”

The Nightmare raised a hoof and tapped his chin with it. Or rather, he tried, as it went right through his chaw. He scowled at it as best he could in his current form. “Bah!”

Returning his attention to the two cultists he spoke in a calm and measured way. “You don’t want to join the hundreds of other puppets you’ve been responsible for, I take it?” His eyes narrowed, making his already scary face something out of a literal nightmare; an angry spirit that had its anger focused on you. “You want to flee,” he circled around them, stopping to speak only when he could look them in the eyes up close. “You don’t want to die and join your victims, whether what they became was your intention or not.”

“You cherish life. You fear death.”

“Tell me…” He stopped and his glare bore through the night and held Xerihan’s gaze, whether he wanted to or not. “Do you want to stay safe?

Xerihan held the gaze, wondering what this Nightmare was going on about. “...You’re following something other than Moon and Star, aren’t you? You’re by yourself, in the middle of the woods at night, deep in Stormwing territory. Talking to two former cultists, whom the Inquisition hates, if I recall correctly, and you’re asking something like you’re recruiting us.”

The corner of Xerihan’s beak twitched upward. “Of course I want to stay safe. But that depends on what you’re offering.”

“Xeri… I don’t like this…” Ricket muttered, keeping an eye on the hovering Nightmare.

It took but a split second, but the Nightmare moved from Xerihan to the other gryphon. “Does it surprise you?” he asked with an undertone of mischievousness and held back mirth. “Do you know what they call your most deep-rooted fears? The ones that only come forth in the dark of night? They are called what I am; a Nightmare.” He chuckled. “I don’t expect you to like me, I expect you to listen.”

He jumped back to where he was before, in front of the duo, and spoke again. “You are both right and wrong. I am not just any Nightmare, but I am still devoted only to the Moon Goddess. I do, however, work with one of the newly arrived gods. Perhaps you have heard of Theá Erímo? The Huntress?” He hovered closer. “Seek her out, swear fealty and beg for her her forgiveness and blessing. She will let you hide, she will protect you.” He glanced to the left. “Come dawn there should be a group of deer two hours travel that way. Hunt down and take the hide from one and bring it to her, offer it as proof of you being worthy hunters, but do not let the animal’s death be in vain. That is not the cycle of life and death that is the essence of the wild.”

Xerihan looked the same way the Nightmare had pointed, and his eyebrows furrowed. “That’ll take us further away from Muddy Hooves… we’d be lucky to keep our advantage…” he muttered to himself. He looked back at the floating phantom. “I’ll consider it. But what if I’m not interested? I’d hope you wouldn’t tell her to come looking our way just to spite us,” he finished with bemusement.

The nightmare looked at them with an almost incredulous stare. “Pfft! Really? You really think I’d do something like that?” He chuckled. “You know as well as I do that allying with her is your best chance of getting out of this mess alive. She loathes the Cult like nothing else. You two don’t seem like much other than a couple of murderers, and hunters in some way - you certainly do sneak around - so I don’t think she would put an arrow through your heart at sight.”

“Regardless. The Cult knows of her, and they know that they’d need an entire army in the hopes of putting her down. The last thing they would expect you to do is to ally with one that seemingly murders their kind on sight. Am I right or am I right? Furthermore, her blessing will allow you to stay hidden much better than anyone else. If you wanted to hide or sneak away, there’s little chance you would be find what with your abilities and her blessing.”

Xerihan frowned. “You’re making it sound like she’d protect me from the Cult. This god can’t be everywhere at once, try as she might, and more than likely I’ll eventually be overtaken by the Cult. Why would I risk incurring her wrath when I’ve done nothing to garner her favor?” He waited for an answer. Then he snorted, shaking his head.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. How would I offer up the carcass of a deer up in tribute anyway, if I were so inclined to do so?”

“First of all. She despises the perversion of life and death that the cult undertakes. You’re merely the Cult’s pawns; their killers. The biggest crime you’ve committed in her eyes is to kill while allied with the Cult. Gaining her favour will be difficult, but it will save your life.”

“Secondly. You don’t offer the carcass, but the hide. Eat the meat or offer it up to another carnivore, but don’t let it lie. If you don’t want to carry it, then at least take the heart, consume what it was and skin it. The hide will be proof that you are hunters, and it will only make it easier for you.”

“And thirdly.” He paused. “The hunter will never become the hunted. Join her and you will be a hunter. And before you say anything, you were but pawns before, now you are refugees. Join her, and the Cult will never again be at your heels.”

Xerihan skeptically raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Ricket. His fellow gryphon simply shrugged, unsure of what to say. The assassin simply turned to face the Nightmare again.

“Okay. I’ll consider it. Now, will you leave us alone?” Xerihan asked.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” A spectral hare hopped in from the tree line. It looked like a hare would normally do, but they could see through it. “These sentinels,” the Nightmare began, motioning at the hare with a hoof, “will lead you to her. You have but ask them and they will show you in which direction to go.”

He hovered backwards and a little up. “As for leaving you alone... that depends.” He smiled and then seemingly vanished into the shadows.

Xerihan glared at where the Nightmare had vanished.

“Charming,” Ricket deadpanned next to him. “Think he’ll actually leave?”

Xerihan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. But I think I’ll take the chance to get on one of these alicorn’s good sides, if only for my own sake. Celestia knows I’ve pissed one off already.”

With little else to go on, they trudged through the woods like the Nightmare had suggested, hoping they’d find their prey soon enough.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

EldritchOne said
Most likely the Muddy Hooves road, if I remember your post correctly that is in the direction of Moon and Star territory where Herr Doktor has connections. So yeah if you want to try for a lift or just wonder at the weirdness of a speeding armoured pony driving a cart, a disabled foal and a mad doctor who look like they have dropped out of Return to Castle Wolfenstein we can probably meet up.

Hmm... I'm probably going to have it referenced in my next post, but with what I have planned it won't be any serious interaction. They'll mention something about a cart going by, and if your doctor was well known in the Cult, they might have recognized him too. That cool?

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

EldritchOne said
Yay! I get to unleash my part of the story, note that it takes place about an hour after our lovable assassin has escaped the city, peeps are not happy.

Hey Eldritch, what direction are your characters heading? They might pass by mine on the way to Muddy Hooves.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

The sound of glass shattering into a thousand pieces pierced the night sky.

In the city of Trottingham, it was the first omen for what would become a chaotic fight that could be rivaled in size and bloodshed only by a true battle between two armies.

---

Xerihan stumbled as he hit the ground, clumsily rolling to break his fall. Glass rained all around him, stinging his back and wings. He paused, trying to catch his breath. Did that really just happen?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud yell.

“Xerihan! What the hell are you doing!? Come on, we need to move!”

Xerihan shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. Right. Move. Have to keep moving, he thought. Not bothering to look back, he sprinted to catch up to his friend, Ricket. Both gryphons raced down the alleyway as the shrieks of enraged acolytes echoed along the brick walls.

They had flown up through the glass in the roof of the building, having escaped the ritual chamber. They had been looking for an exit chamber, and found one in the skylights above them. Now they ran, trying to escape the insane ponies that bayed for their blood.

Two pegasi flew through the broken window, pitchforks in their hooves as they dived at the two retreating gryphons. Xerihan and Ricket rounded the corner, avoiding the dive only momentarily. They were on a larger street now, and a few ponies walked along, minding their own business. The two gryphons sprinted past them all, trying to put distance between them and their pursuers. The two pegasi had flown back up, and were pursuing them from the sky, pitchforks ready.

Xerihan glanced back, and saw them dive. “Ricket! Move!” he shouted. The former Jester hooked left, jumping through a small newsstand. Ricket had held steady, darting between two ponies. The pegasi on Ricket’s tail missed, skewering one of the unfortunate ponies that had been in his way. Meanwhile, Xerihan fumbled to stand back up after landing in the stand. The owner had woken up from his nap and was yelling at him furiously. Xerihan paid him no mind; to him, it sounded like white noise compared to what he was listening for.

There was a loud crack up above. The pegasi had pierced the tin roof with his pitchfork, and was trying to tear it open to reach Xerihan. The gryphon muttered, “Excuse me,” to the stand owner as he jumped back into the street, leaving his pursuer struggling to pull his weapon from the roof.

Xerihan was running behind Ricket, and saw the Cultist chasing him. Xerihan leaped into the air, quickly catching up to the slower pegasus and tackling him. The pegasus grunted in surprise, and they tumbled back to the ground. Rolling over several times, Xerihan gained the upperhand and slit the pegasi’s throat with his metal talons. Standing up, he heard something whiz past his ear. He flinched, looking to see where it had come from.

When he looked, Ricket had pulled out his bow and apparently loosed an arrow. The reason was apparent a moment later; the second pursuer smashed into the ground, sliding only a few feet behind Xerihan. Said gryphon looked up, surprised. “Thanks?”

Ricket nodded. “No problem. Now, let’s get out of here!”

Xerihan agreed full heartedly; the two gryphons rised into the night air, hoping to fly far away from the city before more Cultists could pick up their trail. They made it only twenty feet before Ricket cried out in pain.

Looking over, Xerihan could see why; a giggling ghosty had snuck up on them, and bitten hard onto Ricket’s wing as she smiled. Xerihan looked over and behind his friend, and he gulped. “Ricket, get back to the ground! They released the ghosts!”

Ricket grunted, stabbing the ghost until it let go and disappeared in a small poof. “Are you kidding me!? Those things will go everywhere! Does the Cult even care if House Stormwing notices how much they’ve dug into the city??”

Both gryphons started to glide back to the ground. Small swarms of the carnivorous ghosts appeared in the streets. “I don’t think they do, Ricket. They really want our blood,” Xerihan replied matter-of-factly.

Ricket merely snorted as they hit the ground running, folding in their wings to prevent the ghosts from permanently grounding them. “Bull shit. They want to kill you, I’m just collateral.”

“A charmer as always, Ricket,” Xerihan deadpanned, clucking his tongue.

Ricket chuckled grimly. “Dont’cha know it.”

They continued to run, the swarm of ghosts attacking any airborne creature - several pegasi fell down screaming, unable to hold off so many attackers. Xerihan grumbled, his discomfort plain. “At least they prefer flying targets.”

Ricket had no response. They reached an intersection, and both were dismayed to hear a gathering crowd. Ricket groaned. “Don’t tell me they caught up...”

Indeed, a large mob of Cultists had found their way onto the streets, searching for the escaped gryphons. Pitchforks, torches, large knives, and even axes graced the assembling mob of Converted Townsfolk. Xerihan and Ricket couldn’t slow down fast enough to escape detection.

“There they are!” came a cry from the group.

Before either gryphon could respond or continue fleeing, a loud siren was heard. Pegasi shock troops poured in through the air, repelling the swarms of Giggling Ghosts as a squad of Stormwing ground guards marched from the opposite side of the street. The two groups paused, unsure if they should attack.

Xerihan and Ricket were stuck; a wrong move could get them killed. “I was kind of hoping this wouldn’t turn into a complete clusterfuck...” Ricket commented, a small hitch in his voice.

The mob of townsfolk made up their mind quickly enough. “Get Xerihan! Kill the blasphemer!” one of them cried. The mob moved to charge the gryphons. The stormwing ground guard interfered, shouting orders at the mob to stand down.

Xerihan thought for a moment, and reached a conclusion in milliseconds. “Go dead ahead! We’ll meet up behind ‘em, the gate’s not too far from here!” He dashed forward between the Stormwing and Cult troops, forcing Ricket’s hand in following him.

The two gryphons dashed through the escalating conflict, the Cultists and Ground Guard fighting in a large, confusing battle of tug and war. Xerihan ducked several times, narrowly avoiding the swing of a halberd or pitchfork. He dodged to and fro, quickly making his way through the mass of ponies. With one final leap over a torch wielding cultist, Xerihan was clear of the crowd.

Ricket had less success in his attempt to navigate the crowd. He barely dodged the attacks that flew by him, at one point being nicked by a thrust from a ground guard. “To hell with this,” he muttered, spreading his wings and taking off. He made it to the far side just as three giggling ghosts converged on him, intent on gnawing his wings.

He landed, but was set upon by the ghosts. He flailed around, trying to get the annoying spectres to leave him alone. He managed to stab one, but another took the opportunity to bite his tail. “Aah! Get lost, you freaks!”

Xerihan raced up and slashed at the ghosts, dispelling the remaining two. He sighed as he tugged on Ricket’s armor, pulling him along to run. “Stay on the ground, you idiot! Those ghosts will start swarming you if you don’t!” yelled the gryphon, frustrated both with his friend and the situation they found themselves in.

They rushed down the street, leaving the growing battle behind them. “Okay,” Xerihan huffed, panting from running for so long. “The gate should still be open, and news of the riot won’t reach the guards manning it for a while. If we hurry, we can make it through without much suspicion.”

Ricket nodded, before nervously saying, “Sure, but, your face, Xeri... that’ll draw attention.” He was referring to the piece of bronze mask that was melted onto half of his friend’s face.

“I know, damn it!” Xerihan snarled, still leading the way to the gate. He huffed, willing himself to calm down. “Look, we can turn left here and make our way through a residential area. They tend to dry clothes outside here, we can pick something up and be on our way to the gate.”

No further words were needed. The two gryphons slowed their pace to a trot, finding a clothesline within moments. The sounds of the battle echoed in the distance, screams and the clashing of metal growing in volume.

Xerihan grabbed a large cloak and several extra pieces of clothing, while Ricket plucked a simple sack shirt from the clothing, among a few miscellaneous items. They were just about to leave when they heard a window creak open. They looked up, panic in their eyes when they saw a mare gaze out to the fires down the road. Then she looked down, seeing the two gryphons. A glint of light reached her eyes, and she saw the Jester Mask melted to Xerihan’s face.

The mare panicked, screaming, “ASSASSIN!” at the top of her lungs before slamming the window shut.The cry echoed out into the street, momentarily drowning out the noise coming from the riot.

Xerihan felt numb. Ricket was on him in a second, shaking him from his stupor. “Xeri, we have to RUN! It won’t be long before the guards show up!” Taking faulty initial steps, the gryphons were soon on their way to the city gates.

Doors and windows opened as neighbors investigated the commotion. Lights began flicker on throughout the houses and apartments. “This is bad, Xeri...” Ricket nervously commented. The observation was justified; dozens of ponies were now investigating the cry and the fighting in the distance. When they saw the two gryphons running along, they could immediately guess who the infamous figures were.

It wasn’t long before yells of outrage and frustration assailed their ears.

“Murderers!”

“You’ve ruined this city!”

“Go to hell, you cowards!”

“You sneaking bastards!”

A can was thrown at them. Then a horse shoe, then bottles and heavier, deadlier detritus. Xerihan shielded his face with a claw. “Just keep going, we’re almost at the gate!” he grunted.

They endured taunts and projectiles thrown at them. The ordinary townsfolk seemed to be out for blood, and soon the road ahead was blocked by a solid line of stallions that were fed up with the former Jester.

“Grah, we do not have time for this!” Ricket yelled. He leaped clean over the line, ignoring their yells of protest. Xerihan rapidly followed suit, kicking a stallion with a hind leg before he landed. They ran on, the crowd now behind them infuriated. “Get them!” one of them shouted, rapidly followed by yells of agreement.

The gryphons reached the main street again, and the gate was only fifty feet away. The Stormwing guards noticed the commotion caused by the crowd, and the decision was made to start closing the gate.

Xerihan and Ricket continued to run for their lives; they had no choice. With the townsfolk behind them and giggling ghosts above, their only option was to run through the guards to the exit.

“Halt!” yelled a particularly burly ground guard. “I said halt!”

Xerihan and Ricket ignored him and sprinted past, avoiding the halberds the guards swung at them in an attempt to stop their escape. Luckily, the flying guards were entangled by the ghosts and were in no position to intervene, easing the gryphons’ escape. Closer and closer they approached, finally within distance of touching the gate-

They dived through, seconds before the gate became too narrow for any pony to go through. The gate shut completely, blocking the gryphons’ view to the city. Numerous lights and fires could be seen over the walls. The yelling of Cultists, ghosts, Stormwing guards, and the enraged populace could be heard from miles away, as the city slowly tore itself apart in the chaos.

Ricket looked back in disgust. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.” He glanced at his friend, staring at the closed wooden gate behind them. Ricket sighed, then said, “Come on, let’s get going before they figure out we escaped the city.” The brown gryphon turned tail, walking away from the destruction.

Xerihan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the city walls. There lay what had been his home for over seven years, and it tore itself asunder. In a moment of weakness, Xerihan felt cast out, astray, with no direction. He didn’t even know what his next move was, and that simple fact chilled him.

He tugged on his cloak, pulling it closer to his body. What do I do now?

Xerihan finally turned around, slowly following behind his friend. Dark thoughts swirled amidst his doubt, and he cursed the day the alicorns decided to return. He gripped his claws in anger.

I hope this country burns itself to the ground. Alicorns have only ever caused trouble here.

---

On one of the walls of the city, a single pony sat with a pair of binoculars. A Giggling Ghost accompanied him. The pony in question wore the customary gear of the Jesters, a bronze mask adorning his face, with a large vest and leggings obscuring most of his natural body. In the few cracks that showed, his coat was an intense, dark blue. A dagger was sheathed on his side, and one of his hooves was covered by what appeared to be a gauntlet.

Snap Freeze put down his binoculars, a frown forming underneath his mask. He clopped his hoof on the stone beneath him, signaling the ghost to listen. “Unfortunate. It appears Xerihan and Ricket escaped the city, under cloak. They’re on the road to Muddy Hooves. Alert the High Priest and tell him to send reinforcements. I won’t be able to take them by myself.”

The giggling ghost nodded its head up and down in a ridiculous manner before zooming off into the night. The pony stayed standing, looking at the road in silence.

A whisper drifted through the air.

“Sorry boss. But you failed the Cult, and now you’ve betrayed it. There’s nothing I can do for you now.”

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Fire away, Kap.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

The rafters in the church were deep in shadow, with cobwebs and dust gathering on the beams. The time was five in the morning; far earlier than the church service that would be held at nine. The city was still mostly asleep. Only guards and the occasional early bird would be awake at this time. There was a small creak of noise in the rafters.

Xerihan settled himself onto the narrow beam, absentmindedly rubbing his metal claws together. The sound was miniscule, but still unwarranted.

“Xeri… your claws,” whispered the gryphon on the opposite rafter. Xerihan looked at the soldier accompanying him; his name was Ricket, an old friend of Xerihan’s. The soldier held a bow and arrow, the smooth wood ruffled against his white feathers. A normal looking gryphon, heavily built from being a soldier. He had a tough time sneaking around, but he learned quickly. Moreover, he was as loyal a friend as Xerihan could imagine; the assassin was glad his friend had defected from the gryphon army. Ricket pawed the beam, getting Xerihan’s attention again.

“You good, boss?” Ricket whispered again. Xerihan nodded.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Just jittery is all.”

Ricket nodded in understanding; while this wouldn’t be a hard kill, it was necessary to perform it to perfection. Any mistake might bring the city watch on them, seeing as they were in the middle of the city inside one of the more popular churches. Xerihan sighed, then pulled out a small pouch. He opened it, and grabbed a pinch of the white substance within. Salt.

Xerihan lifted up his bronze Jester mask, and quickly sniffed up the illicit substance. The drug took effect almost immediately. The assassin felt himself calm down, and he grew focused on the task at hand. He wasn’t compromised by the drug, nor did he feel any high; he had long grown used to the substance. For now, it served to make him concentrate and observe the most minute detail.

5:15 am

Xerihan glanced down below, looking at the darkened pews. A typical church, with oaken seating for the congregation, and an simple, golden altar where the priest would stand. Xerihan let his eyes wander, and he eventually found his gaze drifting to his fellow Jester below.

The Jester was an earth pony. His coat was dark blue, his mane short and black. He stood behind a pillar, right next to the entrance. His name was Snap Freeze, and it fit him well. The assassin had a deep, grainy voice that came from infrequent use, and his focus on completing his missions was unmatched. Even better, he could slowly drain the warmth from an enemy’s body - too slow for combat, but excellent for interrogation and torture.

Xerihan mulled over what they were supposed to do. Two weeks ago, a priest started raising ponies’ hopes, and urged them to take up arms against the Cult that had infested the city. While he was no different from any of the other White Knights that had tried to not-so-subtly rid Trottingham of the Cult, he had been one of the most outspoken in recent years. Xerihan thought that he might have moved to Trottingham from elsewhere; he was a very brazen orator, and most residents of the city were not so keen on disturbing the proverbial sleeping bear that was the Cult of Laughter.

As for their objective: ambush and kill the priest when he walked in to the church. He would be preparing for the morning sermon, and he would be there early enough that there was very little chance of an interruption. After they killed him, they would make an example of him - as was Xerihan’s custom.

All they had to do was wait a little longer.

5:30 am

Snap Freeze tapped on the pillar. Getting the attention of Xerihan and Ricket, he nodded once and pressed himself against the pillar. He was absolutely still.

Xerihan and Ricket tensed their muscles, ready to strike.

The door to the church unlocked, and in walked the priest. A pegasus of medium build, who was getting on in years. Then, in walked another two ponies - another pegasus and an earth pony. Xerihan mentally swore. Snap Freeze looked at the rafters, waiting for a signal or some order. Xerihan motioned with his claws to silently kill the last to walk in. Then, he motioned at Ricket to get ready to shoot at the second follower. He waited.

The priest and his pegasus follower walked in through the pews toward the altar. The priest called back to the earth pony, “Clear Cut, can you start opening the curtains? I’d like some light in here.”

The earth pony, who was in the process of locking the door, answered back, “Yes sir.” The door locked. The earth pony turned to walk to the window when he was forcefully dragged behind the pillar. Snap Freeze slit his throat with a dagger, then laid the body down silently. If one wasn’t listening for the slide of a blade or the soft gasps of a life fading away, one would never have known there was a murder.

The priest and his follower were still walking. Xerihan motioned to Ricket, who loosed an arrow at the follower. The target dropped instantly, the arrow sticking out of his eye. The priest heard the thud of a body collapsing, and when he saw the body he jumped in fright. Before he could scream or yell, Xerihan slammed him into the ground. The priest struggled for only a few moments before he lost consciousness.

* * * * *

When the priest reawakened, he was bound and gagged. He could see Snap Freeze cooling the bodies of his followers, and set them so that they appeared to be hunched over in prayer in the pews. Ricket was perched atop one of the statues in the room, a bow held loosely in his claws with an arrow ready to be drawn and released at a moment’s notice. And right in front of the priest stood Xerihan, the wiry gryphon absent mindedly sharpening his metal claws. The priest began to struggle against the rope, and he tried to scream. Xerihan heard and looked at the priest. The latter stopped, trembling in fear at the sight of the assassin in front of him.

Xerihan grinned cruelly underneath his mask, sitting right in front of the priest. He grabbed the pony’s face and forced him to look straight at him. When Xerihan spoke, his voice was dark and malicious, partially muffled by his bronze mask.

“Do you know who I am, priest?” Xerihan asked. The priest shook his head slowly, as much as he could while being gripped. Xerihan chuckled, and he removed the priest's gag.

“Like I thought. You’re an outsider here. Well, I am known as the Guidon of Joy… the assassin employed by this city’s branch of the Cult of Laughter. That you’ve heard of, I’m sure?” The priest’s eyes widened. Xerihan continued.

“Yes, of course you have. You’ve been trying to rouse the citizens, have them take arms against us. You didn’t really think there would be no consequences, hmm?”

The priest shuddered heavily, then finally spoke. “These people deserve better than this! There is war in this country, and they don’t need some two-bit thugs terrorizing them even more! If I could, I would-” he was cut off by Xerihan clenching his claws on the priest’s neck. The assassin leaned in so his mask was inches away from the pastor’s face.

“That’s where you’re wrong, priest. They don’t deserve better. In fact, I’d say we’re doing them a favor. The Cult offers eternal happiness, after all. A way to become immortal. A gift that we are about to bestow on you. You will be… an example.” Xerihan loosened his grip and stepped back. The priest gulped, his throat constricting in terror.

Xerihan flexed his prosthetic claws, inspecting them with an unnatural amount of attention. “Just like an artist who paints his days away, or a writer who slaves away with his pens, I desire to make a masterpiece.”

He drew close, putting all of the talons on his right arm onto the priest’s chest. He pressed in hard enough to draw blood.

“And you, my dear pastor? You will be my canvas.”

The priest yelled. “No! Please, don’t do this, I won’t do anything again, please let me go! Please, don’t-!”

* * * * *

6:00 am

The door was unlocked. When the first ponies to arrive for the morning’s congregation arrived, they would find the priest and his two assistants dead. The assistants would be in the pews, their heads bowed down and their throats slit. They would have smiles cut into their mouths. As for the priest, he would be suspended right above the altar. His wings would be pierced through, rope stretching them out and attached to the wall so that his body would be hung by those extra appendages. His chest and legs would be marred by dozens upon dozens of cuts, each bleeding slowly and painting him in red. And on his face would be his last scream.

The end result resembled an angel in torment.

Xerihan and Ricket flew low over the rooftops, with Snap Freeze keeping pace right below them. They picked a path that would allow Snap to follow with relative ease while heading back to their hideout. Ricket grumbled. “You didn’t have to take that long scaring and torturing him, Xeri.”

Xerihan shrugged while he flew. “It’s fine, Ricket. We got away before anyone saw. Besides, I needed to set an example. A target that defies the Cult isn’t allowed a clean death. And with the way we set that up - priceless, haha!” he laughed.

Ricket huffed in annoyance. “Doesn’t seem professional, is all.”

Beneath them, Snap Freeze answered for Xerihan. “We performed the first part of that assignment perfectly. If the boss wanted to, we could have been out of there in a minute. But the mark of a true professional is one who can get the job done right and still make a statement. We did well with this target,” he said dispassionately.

Xerihan didn’t say anything else; Snap had answered for him perfectly. He simply flew along, following the route offered by the rooftops. Ahead, he saw a shooting star. He chuckled. “Hey fellas, shooting star. Make a wish.”

Ricket laughed humorlessly. “I wish that we’ll be able to sleep in today. We stayed up too long for that target, if you ask me.”

Snap Freeze answered in his typical no-nonsense manner. “I wish that we will have the opportunity to prove the Cult is the dominant force in Equestria.”

Xerihan hummed, keeping his thoughts to himself. Both good answers. Let me see… I wish that I can keep living this life forever. Easy assassinations, praise from my superiors and fear from the commoners below. Yeah, that sounds just about right…

Ricket interrupted his thoughts. “How about you, Xeri? You gotta wish?”

Xerihan nodded, and smiled underneath his mask. “Just that we can keep doing this for as long as we live. It’s a good life.”

Ahead, the shooting star was accompanied by several others. Each went lower and lower, not disappearing. Xerihan looked on with curiosity. That’s odd. Shouldn’t they be disappearing already...?

Snap Freeze spoke up. “Boss? Ricket? Need a hand here.”

The trio had almost reached their hideout. All they had to do was get across the street. Xerihan and Ricket grunted as they grabbed Snap Freeze and quickly flew across the street. They reached their hideout, and subsequently their beds.

It was another successful hit in a string of almost one hundred targeted murders in five years. In less than three months, that streak would be ruined. But by then, their success rate wouldn’t really matter anymore.

Equestria Divided: In Nominé - MLP RP

Yaaay copy pasta

Name: Xerihan

Species: Gryphon

Gender: Male

Appearance: A very lean, agile gryphon. Has white feathers, and black fur and hair that he typically combs back. Wears a simple brown vest, along with several pouches and a bag to carry his belongings. His face has been marred, a piece of a bronze jester mask melted to his face. It covers the upper left portion of his face, leaving his beak and right eye unscathed. He can still see out of the left eye, although his view is slightly obscured.

Further marring his body is the prosthetic claws he has attached to his front limbs. The original claws were severed years ago, which he replaced with metal talons made of various knives and daggers. He possesses gloves he likes to use to cover them up. Overall, his appearance his gaunt from his experiences and recent events.
Special Talent: An extremely charismatic individual. Xerihan received special tutoring as the child of a gryphon noble, and has been trained to both use his voice and behave with his best manners at hand. This training has proved useful to him, as the grind of several painful years have driven him insane - the only way he can maintain a conversation is if he forces himself to remember social niceties.

Occupation: Xerihan is a former Jester of Baltimare, having worked for the Cult for seven years. Only recently has his job been called into question, with recent events throwing his life into chaos.

Affiliation: Former Cult of Laughter disciple. With his status revoked, he is now a target for the Cult. Has several ties within the Gryphon military and nobility, both good and bad.

Personality: Before he joined the Cult, Xerihan was capable of being suave and confident - his noble upbringing required him to undergo tutelage in many areas, including social niceties. However, this training hid a more manipulative personality, and by mixing the two Xerihan was capable of talking his way out of nearly any situation. Recent events have troubled him immensely, and he has become more withdrawn. Furthermore, a crippling addiction has rendered him partially insane, and his daily life is falling apart.

Other: Formerly a gryphon noble, and then a Cult of Laughter Jester. He was banished from the Gryphon kingdoms for abusing drugs while enlisted, and used it to his advantage while working for the Cult. Specifically, the Cult provided him with a performance enhancing drug dubbed, "Pinkie Powder". He used this to great effect, spreading chaos among his enemies and boosting his allies' power with the drug. After several years of drug abuse, though, his body is falling apart. He refuses to take more, knowing it will only kill him. As a result, he fights severe drug withdrawal. The effect is only worsened as the powder enabled the Laughing Mare to directly contact and influence him with ease. Now on the run, he can never truly escape the influence of the Cult.

His gear is varied, and speaks of his previous occupation. He possesses the metal talons given to him years ago, a fearsome weapon that simultaneously causes him constant pain and discomfort. In his pouches, he carries two dozen throwing knives and six small bombs; three explosive, three smoke. Training as a Jester also allows him to use the environment around him as a weapon.

Backstory: Xerihan was born into a large family of lesser nobles in the gryphon tribes. He was brought up to be both a diplomat and gentleman, and it shows through his manners and charisma. From a young age, he was drafted into the militia and trained to fight - typical for the sons of reputable houses. His skills in combat were honed, and he found it easy to fight and win with his claws. As a gift, his father bought him a fine pair of metal gauntlets that augmented the killing power of his claws with small metal blades.

Once Xerihan was of age, he enlisted into the army and served as a border guard, flying the boundaries of the gryphon tribes and Equestria. His introduction to 'Salt' - a type of addictive recreational drug - took place on a typical patrol day, where a sacked caravan had been found near the border. Searching the wreckage, he found a well hidden pouch of the substance and decided to keep it for himself. After only a few uses, he found himself spiraling into dependency.

Finding and using salt became his primary focus, and often interfered with his duties as a guard. His position as the son of a noble kept him safe, but frustration among his colleagues grew. They found an opportunity to be rid of him when a particularly nasty fight broke out with a pack of manticores. Xerihan was nowhere to be found, and was later found high and incapacitated in the company's barracks. Tried and convicted of cowardice, his claws were severed and he was banished from the gryphon tribes. Upon hearing the news, his family disowned him.

With nowhere to go and bleeding profusely, Xerihan headed for the first town he could think of: Trottingham. Once there he received medical attention, solving only the first of many problems. His claws were gone, and all he had left was the metal gauntlet. Now poor, in an unfamiliar city, disabled, and permanently addicted to an illegal substance, Xerihan found it too easy to fall into despair.

His salvation came from the Cult of Laughter. Upon hearing their cheerful cries and promises of a better future, Xerihan gladly embraced the Cult and became one of its most faithful adherents. Finding aid in the community, he began to work as a Jester and built himself up from there. The blades of the metal gauntlet were attached to what remained of his limb, using the necromatic magic of the Cult. Now with weaponry and working talons again, he found that his work came naturally easy.

The Cult immediately knew of his addiction; instead of fighting him over it, they used it. They supplied him with salt, which augmented his natural abilities significantly. Xerihan became resistant to its effects after only a short period of time, and proposed creating an augmented version to use in battle. With the blessing of the mages in the group, they created Pinkie Powder for his personal use.

That happened over seven years ago. With the war at its peak, the Cult was calling for more assassinations every day, gradually exposing its true motivations. Xerihan gladly replied, killing whenever needed. With the aid of a small band of Jesters under his command, as well as the aid of old friends from the gryphon military that wished to escape Stormwing servitude, Xerihan managed a powerful force. He was known as the Guidon of Joy.

Three months ago, with the return of the alicorns, the Cult became wary of the new powers, the Laughing Mare especially. Calling upon Xerihan, now one of the most respected assassins in the Cult, she asked him to orchestrate the assassination of one such being. He called upon his followers, and attempted the mission. It ended in failure, the first and only in his career. All of the Jesters and nearly every gryphon ally he had died in that raid, with the exception of one friend. Compounding the severity of his failure, an explosion had torn off half of his Jester mask and melted the rest of it onto his skin, permanently grafting it to his head.

His return to the Cult was inglorious, and he was immediately stripped of his title. Almost immediately after that, the Cult attempted to kill him - in their words, they were letting him join the Laughing Mare in the Astral Plane in order to have him move beyond his failure. Xerihan outright refused, and fought against his allies-turned-enemies.
He escaped the Cultists, his only friend helping with their escape. He is now on the run in Trottingham, without a home or a goal. The Cult desperately wants to kill him, foregoing subtlety in their zeal to kill him. The Stormwing garrison has caught wind of a riot, and now are added into the chase as well. Finally, the citizens of Trottingham have been terrorized by Xerihan for years now and can recognize the killer easily; once they see the disgraced gryphon on the run, they will do anything in their power to stop him.

Xerihan has only one objective in mind: escape.