Topic: story of a mouse

Camille took a deep breath, reaching up to adjust the bandage around her head, then the one around her chest and midsection. She winced at the stinging of the wounds underneath but stood strong. Stepping forwards through the darkened hallways of an abandoned hospital, her already activated gauntlets clanking against the cracked floor. The place was definitely freaking haunted. Or at least it seemed like it, for how the place reacted to her presence. It was like the building itself was alive, ...

[Quick note, this chapter is in 3rd Person. It will remain this way from here on out.] The ground was clear. The remaining speckles of blood scattered across the fallen leaves and branches. A broken gauntlet lay beside a magical artifact that shimmered with an evaporating energy. Two mares lay entangled with each other on the dirt, one with her thestral wings pressed back against a fallen tree. The other laying on her lap, eyes scanning the sky above. "I'm sorry." Camille's ears twitched as...

“Don’t do that ever again,” I stated, looking at the griffon with an even expression. She lowered her ears, but only for a second before perking back up and stepping closer. I did not know what to expect at first. To me she was a stranger who had followed me through the forests and involved herself in what turned out to be a bad situation. So, out of instinct, I tensed up and pulled myself away from her, and she seemed to have taken it negatively. To be honest, I could not b...

The hunt was always the same. Search abandoned buildings, sewers, caves, and more often forests. One lead always led to another until an end was met. I had never called myself a detective, but looking back on it now, it was the closest to a… positive description of my mission. This hunt, like many others, had led me out of Canterlot and into the unknowns of Whitetail Woods. I had stood way too long outside of the forest as if something surrounding it kept me out. As if I were being told...

Smiles are the one thing Canterlot ponies seemed unable to afford. Their riches could buy them almost anything, and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to buy the Sun and Moon. Walking these streets almost daily left me with more dread than even standing up to an Ersa Major. Their “clean” noses held high, hoof steps in sync, and eyes almost closed as the mindless wondered about. At least until eyes landed on me. Within an instant the faces of hoity-toity righteousness quickly burn...

Before I tell you my story, and before I delve too deep into the mystery of my life, I would like to explain what a Godhunter is. Godhunters* -though far and few between- are trained fighters who serve only to delay, stop, or end those that wish to or have become gods. Gods, in this case, are ponies and creatures who have found power far beyond that of your average pony. Those that find artifacts, weapons, elixirs, and other means of incurring their deepest desires and manifesting them to real...