Empress Jade

A band of griffin mercenaries were traveling south toward Equestrian territory when they came across a factory in the mountains. They figured they’d stop there to rest for a day before setting off again. The crystal magitech that could be found here was still operating to some degree. The lights were on, but dim, and the place was heated and air ventilated, all by crystal magic. A few of the mercenaries messed with some crystal tech that had been abandoned and showed to still be working by creating a portal. The mercenaries used this portal to raid the lands and peoples on the other side for whatever they wished or found interest in. They took livestock, food, and the strange biped natives that the griffins had, by the portal, assumed the appearance of in order to blend in. The portal never opened up in the same place twice, which was assumed to be a fault in the tech after having been left for so long, and would only open up to rural villages and homesteads and generally less populated areas which suited the griffin’s goals just fine. One of them, or maybe a small number of them, had the idea to take the natives from these lands to tend to the livestock so they wouldn’t die, and do some labor for them as the power in the crystal magitech was running low. They ended up taking these people who, now on the other side of the portal, took on pony forms. Even if to the griffins some of those forms looked strange. Another part of the band of mercenaries that stayed behind to handle the supplies found the labyrinthian tunnels of an even older dungeon set below the factory, winding through the interior of the mountain. This, the leader of their group decided, would be where they’d house their new labor force until the snows of winter passed and the snow retreated to the mountaintops and they could more easily be on the move again. It had been what they thought was a sound plan. Up until the griffins doing the raids brought back more of these strange creatures turned ponies than they had been prepared to keep in line. Up until the portal device they’d been using broke and they couldn’t return the laborers. Up until weeks passed, food and supplies replenished every few weeks like magic, and the snow and ice did not retreat from the valley below. 840. That was the total number of how many “weird ponies” there were now in the dungeons. Every few weeks their supplies replenished. Every few weeks the crystal magic had to be looked over and repaired by the weird ponies that didn’t seem to know their own magic and couldn’t understand basic griff’ni. Upkeep and repairs were shoddy, but they held. Livestock were tended to. A part of the factory that the griffins lived in was converted into a farm. For the ponies and the livestock. One griffin joked that they were one in the same. A leader rose amongst the weird ponies that had gained one of those disgusting “cutie marks”, but it allowed her to understand what the mercenaries were ordering the ponies to do, and be understood in turn, so maybe it wasn’t all bad. It had its uses, at least. Their leader thought the same when he made it a point to strike fear into her personally to keep her, and thus all of the others, in line. And then, well, with the cold and cramped, hostile conditions, something had to give. One griffin, the one that had made the joke about these ponies being no better than livestock, attacked one of them and took a limb before he could be pried off. The mare had gotten what medical care the ponies could provide but they’d gotten little help from the rest of the mercenary band. And even then, well, the mare had gotten an infection. When the mare passed, though. That was the interesting thing. The mercenary leader had thrown out the offending griffin to the cold to freeze. He had assumed that with a lack of a proper burial site or pyre or whatever they typically used, the mare would be given to the snows as well. But that didn’t happen. The pony leader had been getting a better grip of her magic faster than some of the others who were partially made of crystal, and so it should not have come to a surprise to anygriff that the mare used it for a new kind of burial. Entombed in crystal. A crystal leg to stand where the dead mare had lost hers. Face smoothed over and expressionless as if merely sleeping. Standing watch like a statue. It unnerved their leader that this pony had the power to do such a thing, seemingly whenever she pleased, and he hadn’t known. After that he implemented a routine. A schedule. No pony, no griffin under his command, did anything or went anywhere without his notice. Even though he could not understand all but one of the ponies and had no wish to, and even though the dungeons were hard to keep an accurate eye on. From there it was easy to control them. Weaken them. Only the ponies that had more complex tasks were allowed to use their magic. Especially the ones with horns. Especially their leader, even though she lacked one, as her command over the crystal tech was growing with every still-freezing week that passed. He would pass by the room they had set up for the pony leader to use her magic with comments that he knew she could not help but understand now. He pulled her aside to “talk” about what she and her ponies were up to. He used the name she had months ago said was hers against her. It didn’t matter that he’d forbidden the use of the names that these strange ponies came with. They were all over the place. There was no cohesion. And some of them even were close to griff’ni names. He wouldn’t, couldn’t allow that. And while he may not be able to completely erase the names they claimed to have, he could make sure they were never used. Ponies should have ponish names. He even overheard that she no longer wants to be called by the nickname she no doubt went by when the ponies thought that his griffins weren’t looking. This went on for an unknown amount of time. The griffins were going as stir crazy as the ponies. Many others died. Griffins were left in the snow. Ponies were encased in crystal and precious metal. Diamond and other tough to break minerals. The ponies kept meticulous track of how much time had passed. Specific ones amongst their number were placed in charge of keeping record of the names they’d been barred from using and memorizing other things from their homeland. Despite efforts being made by the mercenary leader and their numbers dropping, the strange ponies still held on to what parts of their culture they could remember. And it was them that were first aware of the shift in weather. The cold that had once seemed perpetual began to lift. There wasn’t as much magic needed to keep the air in the factory to a comfortable temperature. And then the pony leader, while channeling her magic throughout the factory to once again power the lights and heating, had a magic surge and collapsed. Massive crystals rose from the floor, grew from the walls and ceiling, and some even diagonally out from other crystals. One struck a griffin through the wing as he turned to go warn his leader. More blocked the hallway and an alarm that no griffin knew was there went off. The crystal lights glowed red every few seconds. A hum filled the air. And chaos descended upon the factory as the ponies made their escape. Several ponies and griffins alike didn’t make it, but the ponies succeeded. They had escaped. And the griffin mercenaries, what was left of them, were left to pick up the pieces and make their own decision to either leave, or stay. They’d been in the middle of gathering their supplies, figuring out which direction to choose now that the ponies had fled south, when the statues of those crystallized dead began to move. Griff’ni = A dialect of Griffin language Ponish = Pony language