Helter-Skelter Rising (Griffon Plot Post)

[Stygg Whitefeather]

The fires have long since died away, snuffed out as they consumed their last morsel of fuel and while the smoke still lingered heavily in the air, acidic and scratching. Every breath one took filled them with the burnt taste of their charred city, filling their lungs with the motes of their fallen neighbors and lost homes. The population wanted answers and so far the King had been nearly silent while a murmur was spreading like a bubbling pipe broken at its head and its spilt water slowly spanning out. A show of force and new suitor for the throne, a masked griffon with the power of unicorns and beast so terrifying that it brought the great city to its knees with burn of immolating flames. Crowds had begun to gather at the foot of the Palace gates, demanding answers, ‘Who is this griffon?’, ‘Where is our king?’ and demands for something to be done.

Up in the towers, the court looked down upon its citizens with uncertain fear and anxiety. They asked the same questions for which they had no answers themselves, just uncertain fear. Whitefeather had sequestered himself away to plan with his advisers since morning broke the day after the attack. With only one proclamation to people that this attack would not go unanswered then he disappeared behind the walls – yet through his inaction as has not completely resolved to succumb to the attacks and demands of one rogue usurper who himself hides behind a mask of ambiguity as to who or what he is.
Huddled around a table map of the known world, Whitefeather assessed his options with the aid of other close griffons. Little pieces, pawns and knights riddled the board with several red figures representing the masked griffon in the locations they predict he could be operating out of – for if he had a Rust Phoenix as it was all too clear, there were only some many places he could hide before his next move – or so they thought.

“Move the 3rd fleet to the north, regular formation with attachments of –“

“Father!”

Stygg exploded into the room, in her talon were photographs crumbled together. She appeared frazzled and tired, her eyes heavy with the weight of days without rest. Whitefeathered sighed, exhausted as he was, this interruption was another twist of the knife that screeched into his weary head.

“What is it now?”

Stygg said nothing as she approached the table beside her father and flung down the photographs onto the table, knocking unit pieces helter-skelter. The photographs showed black and white landscape with wisps of clouds and not much more. The advisers in the room whispered to themselves about this outburst, scoffing the importance of such ambiguous reconnaissance.
“Am I suppose to be seeing something here?” Whitefeather snapped, sending his daughter a disgruntled gaze.

Stygg slammed her talon onto the photographs, flaring her feathers and fur. “That’s the point! It’s the Dreadnaught – it is missing.” The room grew uncomfortably silent.

“Missing, what do you mean missing?” Peeked an adviser.

Whitefeather was just as confused yet terribly uneasy as the gravity and realization begun to sink. “That thing is a relic, practically a museum. How does it go missing?” He begged the question. “It’s gigantic!”

“Oh you old fool, get it through the bird brain. The most powerful airship the Griffons ever had, powered by magic, is now missing and a magic using griffon is threatening you. I don’t believe I need to spell it out anymore than that.”
“I’ll alert the fleet.” Proclaimed a military adviser.

“Hold it!” Whitefeather squawked back. “We can’t let this get out.”

“Father…? What you suggesting.” Stygg eyed him warily, this she knew would not sit well.

“We can’t let anyone know that vessel is missing. We send a Navy wide alert, it will leak. I want just 1st fleet to hunt it, find it and bring it back here.”

“Uh, sire…” Loci chimed in, ”The Dreadnaught is – Loci advises against sending just one fleet. We may have never… quite… oh what is the word Loci is looking for? Uh yes yes, uh stripped it entirely. It just was not cost-effective after that war and we never figured anyone would have the resources to just up and steal in the middle night so it was never much of a concern. I suppose this proves we were wrong, for this Loci begs forgiveness for our oversight.”

Stygg, thoroughly disgusted, turns away throwing up a talon into the air in defeat. She was working with buffoons all of them. She shook her head, “I’ll lead the task force that will find the Dreadnaught. My griffons are the only ones capable of standing a chance. We make it a small surgical operation. Get in and regain control – the Dreadnaught is built for fighting dragons and siege. Won’t be looking for a small force.” As she talked the more it felt like a suicide mission.

“I won’t authorize that, I need you here.” Whitefeather interjected. “Let the fleet handle it.”

“No father.” She turned back to him, a fire in eyes. “I am not obeying that order, I will go and do what you should of done the moment Royal Rocks was attack. I will find the Dreadnaught, I will find that griffon and I will see him – dealt with accordingly. Because it appears I am the only one capable in this family do it, you lazy plump turkey.”

Whitefeather recoiled, being berated by his daughter in front of his advisers.
“And it pains me to do it too, because he was right. You can’t lead, you need ‘advisers’ to tell you what to do because you don’t have a leading feather on your fat wings. It disgusts me that I am of your brood but because it’s both our names on the line I will go and do what needs to be done else I dare thing my head will be on the block next to yours if that . You and your advisers can go play pretend war, send soldiers to their deaths while you stand here and pretend to care. I have a fight to get to.”

“Don’t you dare walk out on me! I am your King!” Whitefeather scolded, raising his hackles and splaying his wings. “And your father, you disrespectful fledgling! You go out there and –“

“And what, father?” She asked as she was walking away. “You’ll send your fleet after me too? I’d like to see you dare. Goodbye father, I’ll return when I have the Dreadnaught.” She let an obscene gesture fly over her shoulder as she departed.

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Soon after the confrontation with her father, Stygg was well underway to organizing Scythe for a special operation. In the early morning hours, her platoon had assembled on the far banks of the Aer Corp command, situated underground. Around thirty griffons were formed in lines of ten, the furthest row were birds in the most formidable of armor – heavy steel and weapons, powered by a engine-like device at their backs. They were menacing, like upright tanks and appeared more machine than griffon. The other rows were comprised of griffons in lesser armor, more mobile with lighter arms. Projectiles and blades. A spattering of Roc Troops and other support were also mingled among the regulars. All at attention, all facing to Stygg at the head of the formation.

Stygg, with her armor and armament in full display, addressed the crowd. She explained that this operation was not officially sanction by the Court nor would they be receiving any assistance from either the Aer Corp or the Navy – there even ran the risk of being labeled traitors, deserters, or rouge. She made it clear that if anyone was uncomfortable with these prospect to bow out now. None moved a feather.

“This operation will be hence-forth known as ‘Helter-Skelter’, our objective is to track and locate the Dreadnought and if possible, infiltrate and reclaim control. Out intel is spotty at best, so we will be going into this situation blind. It is believed that the vessel has been commandeered by the griffon that attacked Royal Rocks, so we are to expect a possible Rust Phoenix to be in close proximity of the vessel. We do not know the number of forces at his disposal nor their armament or capacity to engage. Till otherwise verified, we are assuming heavy resistance.” Stygg continued to explain, before going into a brief run down on the Dreadnought’s system. Highlighting the design, its armament, and Roc golems. She reiterated that there is no intelligence to suggest the target of interest has been able to activate or control the golems but to approach this assuming the worst case scenario. She also informed that of the two quick-airships they would be using as their support platforms. After a few more rousing statements, she dismissed her platoon from formation to move out and prepare for engagement. Before the sun was at its peak, Scythe was mobilized and en-route to the last known location of the Dreadnought in hopes that its trail would still be warm.

[Stygg Whitefeather]

It had been two days since the Scythe had departed from Royal Rocks, against the order of the court. The small detachment, comprised of the best Scythe Stygg could gather on such short notice had grown restless – there was discontent amongst the ranks about the intentions of the unknown agitator and in some griffon opinions, he was seen as a possible blessing in disguise. Stygg herself harbored such feelings, tucked away in a dark little corner of her heart where she dared not express. She loved her father, yet at the same time, knew him far too well. He wasn’t good for the Kingdom, but he was family, and she’d be bucked if she’d refused to fight in the Whitefeather name. Any concerns voiced by her underlings was quickly squashed, either by verbal threat or a swift planting by Stygg. It was becoming an unsettling trend. Thankfully, on the afternoon of the second day, they caught a break.

The trail had been cold for the excursion, the former resting place of the Dreadnaught provided little clues but a likely course and even following that trail, it had grown cold. That was till word had come that an unusual cloud formation was spotted by a Roc weather crew near the Hollow. The two ships changed course and made haste to the last known location, half day flight from their current position. Tensions were high the entire voyage. By the late morning of the third day, they came upon the airspace of The Hollow. In the distance was a cloud formation, moving at a speed faster than would be expected in this region – even the presence of clouds was highly suspect and strange. This had to be a sign of the stolen ship, she order her ships to ascend and to prepare for battle.

Stygg was assisted into her armor, snapping her wings into the armored apparatus along the radius of her appendages. It created a fan of blades over her feathers, a light sharp steel which could cut their way through most any creature’s hide. She holstered two hand scythes, which dangled from her belt around her waist before slipping her talons into metal gauntlets with wicked claws, finely sharpened. She wore a medium set of plates, splinted, and chain supported by a small engine with pistons to assist her wings with lift and speed and to extend torque to her arms like a firing piston of a combustion engine. Coupled with the claws, she could rip a dragons throat out in one fell-swoop. She took up her war-scythe, its blade like the long claw of an eagle and then donned her helmet. The rest of her team fell into place, armored up, weapons in talon and ready to fight. They were anxious and thirsty.

Stygg addressed her soldiers, explained they would be attacking from above with the ships holding back to provide light but long range support. She was blunt, there was no telling what they were to expect. The griffon that had attack Royal Rocks was unlike any known and far more powerful than your typical unicorn they would all be familiar with. Cannons were assured, golem Roc a possibility and troops plausible. It was her hope, that since it was the largest beast in the sky, it wouldn’t expect an attack from above – though in her heart, she knew that it was a guess. They’d be going in blind against a deluge of firepower, magic, and gods know what else. She planned a aerial bombardment first, to soften the deck and incite any chaos they could. The bombardiers first, supported by range and Roc. Following in wing would be the main force, the bulk of heaviest armored and the nimblest warriors to try and take the deck, secure it for the entire force. They were to focus on taking the bridge, concentrate their efforts to capture it or disable its ability to navigate. If worst came to worst, it was her hope that it would be cut adrift and the Fleets could move in to finish her if taking the vessel alive proved futile.

As they readied to take wing and fly, they positioned their ships line with Celestia’s sun and once in position, the rear opened and below in the distance was the cloud formation, bubbling and boiling like a coming storm, to which Stygg looked out upon and cursed her father. Should she fall this day, she hoped it would weight heavy on his soul and wake him from his slumber. She ushered her troops forward and they spilled out into the air, flashed their wings and were off towards the inevitable. They were prepared, they had trained for this, but each one knew that death was to become them this day. For the glory of the Kingdom, for the Glory of Ivor’s Line. Stygg dropped from the back of the ship, falling, falling, falling… her wings flared to catch a thermal as she glided off, falling into formation with her platoon.

The first signs of combat roared like thunder behind the clouds hinting that death would mark this day.

[Stygg Whitefeather]

As the battle commenced, the squads executed their plan flawlessly. The bombardiers dipped below the cloud barrier to strike the deck and dangerously close quarters, the bombs rolling along the deck and detonating just as the griffons were shooting back up onto the sky. The flash from the explosions would make the clouds appear as if thunder and lightning were emanating from within them, a budding storm. What never came was the return fire, Stygg was increasingly becoming wary. The Dreadnaught was a floating fortress and not a single cannon returned fire. Stygg singled her crew to descend into the clouds, taking up Roc support while her bomber squads prepped another volley if need be.

As she dipped into the clouds, surrounded by viscous fog, her heart kept still waiting for the inevitable blast of flak to explode around her which never came. She dipped below the fog, flanked by the rest of Scythe and set her paws onto the damaged deck. The rest of her crew set down between the scorch marks and small fires from her team’s bombs. Yet aside from the signs of damage they caused, the ship felt quiet and empty. Stygg signaled her crew to prepare their weapons – this had all the parts of a nasty trap. Where were the Roc golems, the crew, anyone? She informed them that the plan was still the same, they were to make their way to the bridge.

The forward scout, a lighter armored griffon lead the infiltration crew while several others secured the upper deck. With Stygg second in line, she and eight others descended to the first deck. The deck was dark, the lights barely flickering. They turned on their torches and in the darkness they spotted something huddled on the deck. Cautiously they approached, weapons ready, and after a few more steps they saw what was there. The remains of a Roc Golem, destroyed to a pulp – little more than a mass of twisted debris.

One of the griffons uttered an obscenity as their light swept the long passageway. There were dozens of them, all the same, recently torn apart by some powerful, destructive force. Her team was growing uneasy at this sudden strange turn of events. Had someone beat them here? There was no sign of any of the other Fleets or Aer units, so it couldn’t have been any of the regulars. Perhaps this whole fools endeavor had just gotten a lot easier, Stygg thought to herself. She lead her team down the rest of the passageway, stepping over a countless number of downed golems, following the path of destruction cut through the deck. As they neared the bridge, they swore they heard voices emanating from just up ahead – at least two. The team readied themselves and approached slowly. They came to the hatch, just slightly ajar, and with their weapons at the ready Stygg slowly pushed the hatch open.

“Starsong?”

[Red Charge]

"As I was saying, I do apologize for interrupting your concert," The large griffon Stygg easily identified from the concert attack said graciously to, indeed, none other than the famous star herself. "It was never my intention to bring you or your crew to any harm. However as you must agree it was necessary."

The violet pegasus huffed at the armor clad griffon, "We'll call it even, for now. Just keep away from me and my crew. Clear?" She asked, ignoring the squad of fully armed griffons now standing at the entrance, "Or next time I won't be as gentle." He nodded silently at her. At that, she turned, muttered, "Magical." in acknowledgement, her head raised, and walked past the troops with nothing other than a simple "Excuse me."

"Ah, Stygg Whitefeather herself... I see you brought your team with you... Hmm... I see a Firebird there, a Stonetalon, an Shriek... Good ancestry all. It is such a shame that we must rendezvous on such dreadful terms. It would be a horrible tragedy if honorable warriors were to perish to hold that incompetent plump fowl's throne."

The room the griffon usurper was in was vast, covered in the signs of what must have been quite the battle. Roc golems smashed against the ceiling and walls, broken furniture, scorch marks all over.

"As you can see the Dreadnaught's seen better days so I must ask you to not cause any further damage to a national monument." The usurper bowed slightly at the request. "However, my dear Whitefeather, I am sure you and I can reach some sort of agreement as to your father's ill fated term as king. Dethrone him, it is within your power." He said, it was not a plea, or a request, but a negotiation. "When a griffon who clearly does not adhere to any of our values or codes sits on the throne, neglecting his people and letting that awful rat-bat scurry around with his spider-web of manipulations... You must agree on this."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Stygg’s team fanned out, their weapons trained on the Usurper – though in their utter stunned state at what they had just witnessed they let the Pegasus leave undeterred. Perhaps wise on their part as it least appeared she had ripped through the ship like a torpedo bent on having a firm chat with the squatting owner. The absurdity of the situation was beyond reproach. With the pony gone, the room was tense once more – each griffon seemed to hold their breath, hearts still and eyes like lasers on the magic bird before them. Stygg stood her ground by the hatch.

“Cut the Horseapples, that’s your king you’re speaking about.” Stygg barked back. “Are you going to come along with us all nice now that your Roc golems are junked and you have no Rust Phoenix incinerating innocent griffons and ponies?” Stygg glanced to two of her team, signaling them to move in to apprehend. The two armored griffons skittishly stepped forward, “By order of the Royal Court and his majesty, King Whitefeather, you are under arrest and hereby ordered to accompany us to Royal Rocks for trial for crimes against Country, inciting riot, threatening the sitting Regent… you get the point.” Stygg signaled another member of her team to secure the area – not that it wasn’t already secure thanks to a rage pony. “Since we’re being so chatty, can we finally know who it is that the King has gotten their feathers all ruffled?”

[Red Charge]

The griffon usurper raised his hand commandingly, "I'm afraid that with one more step I will be forced to take the lives of your teammates, would be a shame, but a necessary one. As for my 'king' I assure you, he was not, and never will be a king, especially not my king. But I can see where you are coming from, dear Stygg. My father was also a coward and a disgrace, he was also plump, lazy and incompetent. Even when I dragged him into battle in one final attempt to salvage his honor, he ran, shaming us all, nearly destroying everything we worked so hard to attain. " The usurper explained.

"I am here to prevent your father from making the same mistakes as my own, preventing another war the likes of which will forever echo shamefully in the Griffon Kingdom's history." The mountain of a griffon set forth, "You see, I may not have any blood of my own, due to my untimely departure from the Kingdom. But I do look out for my kingdom... and my family." At that lightning erupted from his talons, paralyzing the group of griffons.

"Have you figured it out yet, my beautiful great niece?" He asked, taking another step forward and with a long talon stroking Stygg's chin fondly, raising her head so she looked straight into the empty, hollow eyes of his mask, it was only then apparent to her, from that close, that there was no griffon inhabiting that suit of armor.

"I died to save my cowardly father when I should have just let him perish like the coward he was, he was never fit to be king. Will you make the same mistake the griffon once known as Severus Whitefeather did?"

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Stygg was done listening to him drone on and on about this and that – he had daddy issues, great. Good for him, what did this have to do with him incinerating a concert or threatening her father. Yes, he was portly, a bit lazy, dense at times, but he was still her father and she would respect that no matter what this wordy griffon had to say on the matter. She was about to tell her team to plant the bird and be done with his rambling – that was before the lightning came.

She fell as the magic danced on her nerves with electrical fire, every muscle seemed to turn against her body and she collapsed to the deck in convulsing pain along with the rest of her team - her wings convulsing helplessly against the deck. The pain was lingering and she could feel a annoying tweet under her eye that refused to stop. She uttered out an affront to the large griffon as she struggled to regain her composure. When his steel claw touched her chin, she cringed, wishing the heartless thing away. If she could she would rip the talon right from its joint and stuff his beak with it. She kept her eyes closed as he forced her head, not wanting give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. Her curiosity betrayed her though as she peaked – her beak fell agape with a silent gasp. What was this… thing? A golem? What type of golem could speak and reason on such a horrifically terrifying level? And what golem claimed to be Severus Whitefeather.

“Severus…?” Her beak mouthed the name, “This is some sadistic trick. Get your claw off me you… you machine!” Her own talon snapped up and grabbed Severus by the wrist – it was futile but it made her feel more in control of her fate. “You’re… you’re nothing but a construct, a watchmakers toy. You’re no more who you claim then a torch is to the sun. I can’t believe I was scared of you.” She uttered a little mocking laugh, “You think your little bag of pony tricks can topple the Throne? My father might not be the best king that has sat upon the throne of Royal Rocks, but least he is of flesh and feather – you’re at best a ghost, in the least a figment created by your creator. I would rather die fighting for my family than see any soulless machine masquerading as a true Whitefeather take the throne. The people won’t follow a golem to their graves once they catch wind of this. We defy you! Do your worst!” She spat into his eyeless facemask.

[Red Charge]

"Okay, I can see you're not much of a listener, so I'm going to explain this again, slowly this time. I have absolutely no interest in taking the throne." The griffon construct said, "Had I been interested in taking the throne, I would have done so after my brother's demise." He had not made the effort of wiping Stygg's saliva off his mask, instead he turned around and walked back.

"No, no, dear Stygg. I believe there are only two griffons worthy of taking the throne. One of them is the leader of the 1st fleet, You should know Aetos, he is family after all. The second griffon, don't let it get to your head, is you." He walked back to his seat at the center of the room.

"You are correct in saying I am a construct, but I am far from being a machine. All griffons thought me dead at the battle my father perished in. But I was a bit more stubborn than that."

He leaned forwards again towards Stygg, "I only wish the best for the Griffon Kingdom, which is why it's imperative that you, or Aetos take your father's place on the throne. You are griffons of honor, the well being of your citizens, the values of the griffons, honor, these are all things you care about. Under your leadership I see the Griffon Kingdom thriving, uniting! You must be able to see this as well."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

“I’m flattered.” Stygg hissed as she struggled to get back on all four. Her muscles still felt like a soaked towel left on the floor to dry – stiff and jumbled. “What you’re suggesting is treason, where’s the honor in that?” She stumbled, her beak smacking onto the deck. The pain was jarring, shooting through her head like an electric bullet. It made her eyes spin. Her claws scratched at the deck as she propped herself up. “And I’m not exactly in the game of patricide or regicide.” Her team was just beginning to come to, the effects of Severus’s attack starting to wane. Several moans were uttered among the shuffling of bodies.

“’Far from a machine’? My butt you aren’t. Even if you were Severus at one time you’re just, just like a pony toy or something now.” Stygg stated, “But humor me, how would you suggest either of us do it? Just roll on into Royal Rocks – blades cutting down any that get in your way? After some struggle, Stygg finally found herself back on her legs though she was still feeling uneasy and light headed. “If you’re so keen on seeing the best for the Kingdom, why don’t you help us instead of trying to kill us and our king? My father may not be the best king the griffons have had, but there has been a lasting peace – that was until you showed up.” That notwithstanding the situation with the Leviathan and a few micro-wars here and there. “Maybe you should ask Loci, he’s shifty enough to go along with your plot.”

The few members of her team who had been paying attention to the altercation were muttering to themselves, between the painful groans. They had their opinions, Stygg had hers – most she wouldn't dare say in front of her team or this metal griffon masquerading as Severus. She especially wouldn't say that she knew he was right about her father and the state of the Kingdom but this was her father he was speaking of and she’ll be dammed if she would this thingpersuade her to act .

[Red Charge]

The armored griffon shook his head slowly, "Maybe in your... excitement you have forgotten. But you already have the right to rule." He gestured around him, "Only the true worthy king of the Griffon Kingdom could activate the Dreadnaught." He explained simply. "There is no need for any further bloodshed, of course, I already gave your father the choice of stepping down and appointing another king. He refused, all to keep his throne, the greedy failure of an offspring."

"As for me, you think I am a pony toy? Perhaps it is time I better explained what I am. I am the bridge between the art of golem-making and the art of necromancy. For eons many of the world's most powerful dragons, diamond dogs and ponies have tried unsuccessfully to bind the souls of the dead to objects, rather than their own skeletons. But the souls would never latch on. Instead artificial life had to be placed into the inanimate golem, creating a construct of some intelligence. Creating a golem with a true soul was deemed impossible, yet here I stand, a marvel in my own right both in life and now, in undeath." He told.

"But I did not ask for this existence, I find it as abhorrent as you must find it. It was my brother, Dreadwing, who found me, too stubborn to die, but too weak to live. He had the Equestrian Golem Maker bind me, he bestowed this body upon me, and placed me into the core of the Rust Phoenix."

"For years I observed as the Phoenix roamed the land, ensuring no dragons ever dared scheme against our kingdom. I could control the phoenix, but felt content not to most of the time. I watched as Ivor's line dwindled into incompetence. My youngest brother may not have been as capable as Dreadwing, or myself, but he has managed feats beyond imagination. Such as repairing the relationship with the ponies after the Prism Wars, ensuring stability within the clans, keeping us united in spite of our losses and rebuilding over half of The Armada. He ruled fairly and with honor."

"But your father has neglected his people for too long. The denizens of The Hollow wallow in poverty, Royal Rocks has become a jewel of vanity. Power over the Kingdom gifted to the nobles instead of the honest warriors, the military council all but out of power. His rat, that dirty, horrifying scavenger bird, with many faces and no honor, he rules in the shadows, manipulating your incompetent, thick headed father. My incompetent, thick headed great nephew and conducts an orchestra of treason and villainy behind your own back as you allow it. But I will not. If you will not perform your duty as the leader of Scythe, your duty as the Princess of the Griffon Kingdom, I will. Your father must answer for his mistakes. If you agree to take his place, I will allow you to decide his fate without contest. But keep in mind, he will do anything to keep the throne, including killing his own daughter."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

Stygg was silent, listening with shaky anxiety. Had she really been so wrong about this armored creature? She hated herself that every word he spoke rang dead true – a horrifying burden of truth washed over her. She felt disgusted at herself for letting these conflicting feelings take any root inside her heart – could she really overthrow her own father? He was stubborn, pigheaded, and a fool but he was blood after all. And then what of Aetos? He wasn’t a direct line to the throne and it would pain her to see him move in on what she could claim as her own but failed to do out of stubbornness – something she shared with her father.

She glanced to her team who were now mostly on their wobbly feet, “Team, leave us.” Before any could object, “That’s an order.” Silently the group of griffons shuffled out and when the last one left through the hatch, Stygg back-kicked the hatch closed. “Ok, I’ll buy that you’re really Severus – not like I haven’t seen weirder things before – but how do you suggest we go about ousting my father? I don’t want to see him dead, if it can be avoided, that would tear my mother apart. Then what? No female has sat on that throne - ever. The notion is a bit radical. Most importantly, we’ll need the mandate of the people to overthrow the throne like this – else we risk being seen as nothing more than rebels.”

[Red Charge]

"You have the mandate of the people, seen piloting the Dreadnaught will, according to old traditions, dictate you as Queen. They clearly state that the captain of the Dreadnaught is the rightful king. This is because the magic here can identify Dreadwing's blood in your veins, and in my core. Your father and his predecessors however, did not know how to activate the mechanism, nor would they have succeeded in activating even if they had found it." The griffon explained slowly yet concisely.

"If you do wish to take the throne, all you must do once you're seen captaining the Dreadnaught is challenge your father. But keep in mind that once you challenge him, the best fate he can hope for is having his wings clipped and being locked up, or exiled. As for the rat, I would see him torn asunder."

"It is good to see you co-operate. The kingdom will only benefit from it. We can discuss this further of course, after you've agreed to take the throne. And I must state, it is ever so curious that you call me a pony toy-thing, when it is you who... well let's just say the birds chirp the oddest things..."

[Stygg Whitefeather]

“The ‘old traditions’ are in their death throws, asleep in the minds of the the masses. It’s a new world, now. All the people will see is a conqueror, a traitor to the throne who rolls in on a vessel of death and chaos. I suppose it’s time we awoke them to their slumber then?” Stygg said with both apprehension and uncertainly. “With the Dreadnaught at my command, the fleets won’t hesitate to succeed to my mandate… though in the aftermath of my father, doubt the Admirals won’t voice their objection to another Whitefeather ascending to the throne – a female none the less. It’ll will be a challenge to win them over, but not impossible.”

Stygg scratched the underside of her beak, contemplating her actions. This was a frightening prospect – overthrowing her lump of a father. Family, clan, honor… were all at stake and the Severus creature had put her in a precarious position. She had to unite the clans, bring them back into order under the House Whitefeather – undoing the damage her father had done would be a remarkable challenge.

“As for Loci, we shouldn’t take him too lightly. Disposing of him may prove more troublesome than my father and the rest of his sorry council. He’s the eyes and ears of the Kingdom now with claws in the affairs of all the fleets. I know a few of my Scythe are in his pocket-book, who knows how far his reach is… it may benefit us to use him before we dispose of him? But barring that, he shouldn’t prove too difficult to do away with once my father is ousted. What of you though? You’re a legend now, fallen deep into annuals of history. It may do us no favor if it came to light that a construct with the spirit of Severus has orchestrated this whole affair. Legends are better left dead.”

[Red Charge]

The massive armored and cloaked griffon swelled in protest against Stygg's words. Definitely not happy about her claim that the traditions have all but died off.

"The traditions may be dead in the pathetic city Royal Rocks has become, but in the Hollow, in the salt of the earth, the traditions live on. You don't need to worry about the Armada. Enough planning, enough of this pathetic behavior. You have a right to the throne and you will take it. Let me take care of the rest. Once a worthy successor is on the throne, I will, as I always have continue to protect the Griffon Kingdom from afar, merely observing until I once again find it about to falter." Severus stated, clearly ending the conversation.

"There is one thing I will not negotiate however, Loci must die."

At that the ship creaked loudly, they were over the desert now, merely minutes from The Hollow. Severus' expressionless mask studied Stygg's face. This was the one term he would not settle for. The treacherous Loci, who acted without regard to Griffon Honor or values, who climbed up to Whitefeather's side through trickery and flattery had to be put down as an example for all of his kind.

"Of course you could always return to that father of yours before I arrive at Royal Rocks and prevent the entire ordeal by convincing him to step down from the throne and appointing you instead. You will save many lives this way, including his own. I leave it up to you."