Night Lord in Equestria part 14

>”For the last time, princess, you’re not coming with me,” You state for the fourth time as you gather the gear you require from the armory.

>A flamer would be nice… but you need to instill raw fear, not wanton destruction. The scything talons of a pair of pre-heresy lightning claws fit that bill beautifully.

>”I don’t answer to you Chosen,” replied Luna. “Besides, this is MY homeland, and I will not sit idly by while a… foreigner fights the battle alone!”

>With a twist, the first oversized gauntlet locked in place. With a crackle, the blades that encompassed your fingers energized, ready to taste blood once more.

>”Luna, you don’t know how to fight like I do. Even if your powers are even a fraction of Celestia’s, you’ll blunt my effectiveness.”

>”Hmph. I know how to scare ponies well enough…” Luna replies, annoyed at your slight.

>”This isn’t about SCARING them, Luna. This is about fear and terror. I’ll make them cower and whimper at merest whisper of me  after tonight.”

>Your skull-faced helm would not be vicious enough for tonight… Ah! There’s a good replacement! A daemon’s screaming visage roared its silent, brassy rage from a plinth in the corner.

>”Besides, if they are anywhere near as bitter at your kind as their king, your presence will only enrage them further, not silence their courage.”

>Luna lets out another unladylike ‘hmph’.

>”But there is one thing you can do…”

 

>”Ah, another wonderful summer sunset,” Erenor sighed from his post on the southeastern turret of Castle Kordel, leaning lazily against the parapet.

>The city below had finished the day’s work and shops were closing up one by one. It was quite peaceful really.

>”And another day’s watch done,” he sighed, feet aching.

>He hoisted the small trapdoor in the floor open, only to be met by Corsh.

>”Oh, hey lieutenant,” Erenor replied, sloppily saluting his dour commanding officer.

>”Such poor respect for your superiors.  Congratulations Erenor, you’ve just volunteered for fourth watch,” Corsh laconically replied before slamming the door shut.

>”Oh, gods damn it all…” Erenor grumbled, returning to his post. “Didn’t even get dinner…”

>The trapdoor creaked open once more, and a small brown paper sack sailed up into the air.

>After catching it, Erenor greedily helped himself to the apple and ham sandwich it contained.

>Maybe this new officer wasn’t so bad after all.

>By the time he finished, it was completely dark.

>Not just a nighttime dark, it was oppressively dark. Strange, no moon out tonight. Nor any stars…

>Erenor was still musing over this mystery when adamantium claws dug into his neck and back, killing him instantly.

>Lacking time for finesse and care, the beast began his butcher’s work.

 

>Sergeant Laran and his small squad patrolled the main halls of the royal castle, each step in time with each other’s. Gas-powered repeating crossbows, only recently approved for combat use were clutched tightly to their chests.

>At the eighth lap of their pillar lined route, a noise met their senses.

>A slow scrape…scrape… scrape… of metal on stone.

>Instantly, all five turned toward the noise, priming their weapons and aiming them toward the origin of the sound.

>”Who goes there?!” Laran called, seeing nothing, despite the brightness of the hall.

>The scrapes only grew louder.

>SCRAPE… SCRAPE… SCRAPE…

>”Show yourself!” he ordered, tensing further.

>Lights down the far end of the hall winked out, one by one.

>The scraping grew faster and closer

>SCRAPE. SCRAPE. SCRAPE.

>A coldness suddenly enveloped their feet.

>Looking down, they noticed a black mist had overtaken their lower extremities.

>”What’s going on, Sergeant?” The newest member of the squad intoned, nervous panic creeping into his voice.

>He panned the crossbow around jerkily, aiming at every point of the now darkened hall.

>”Keep your heads on straight, lads. We can handle whatever this is. Flashlights on.” Laran commanded.  One by one, spears of light poked into the darkness.

>The mist grew thicker, choking the weak light and keeping it confined to the squad’s immediate position.

>The scraping sounded like it was running now, and was practically on top of them.

>SCRAPESCRAPESCRAPESCRAPE.

>Then it stopped.

>For several seconds, the only sound in the room was heavy, scared breathing.

>Suddenly, the newblood’s flashlight beam reflected off something shiny. A brazen monster’s face with claws longer than a griffon’s leg stared at him for the briefest of moments.

>The newblood guard yelped in fight, pulling the trigger on his crossbow.

>With a noisy clacking sound, the weapon emptied four of its eight rounds before Laran could grab the panicked griffon and calm him down. All the bolts had clattered down the hall, hitting only the ground.

>”Did you see it?! What the fuck was that?!”       

>”What was what?”

>”That, that thing! Th-that monster!”

>”What monster? No one saw anything.”

>”It was right there! I-I shot at it! Oh man, we gotta get out of here sarge!”

>The newblood turns, but Laran grabs him by the collar of his chestplate before he can run or fly away.

>”Were not going to run away, PRIVATE. We’re going to find this thing that goes bump in the night, and by the gods, we’re going to bump back! Understand!?” Laran nearly shouted in the young guard’s beaked face. The newblood jerkily nodded affirmative.

>”Good. Now let’s find this thing and put a few bolts in its head.”

>Duty drove Laran and his men forward, eventually arriving in the main dining hall.

>It sat as empty and dark as the halls behind them. A forest of white marble pillars sequestered off sections of the hall reserved for the tables of the guards, servants and royal family.

>It would not be hard for an intruder to hide in here.

>”Alright boys, spread out. Holler if you find anything.”

>”Are you nuts, sarge?! We need to stick together!”

>”We’ll never find him that way, private. Now get looking.”

>The five griffons split up, two searching the guards’ alclove, two in the servant’s and the newblood in the royal family’s.

>”We’re gonna fuckin’ die, we’re gonna fuckin’ die…” the greenhorn whimpered, clutching his weapon so tight he indented the wooden furniture.

>The table and chairs sat silently, awaiting tomorrow’s meal. Quickly, he panned the flashlight across the empty room.

>Satisfied at his hasty search, he turned around, only to be greeted by two and a half meters of the stuff of nightmares. Its red eyes glowed brightly in the absolute darkness, while arcing electricity around its claws betrayed its murderous intent.

>A warm trickle of urine flowed down the young guard’s legs as control of his body divorced him. He stood stock still, unable to even raise his impotent weapon to fire.

>”So griffons piss themselves in fright too. Intriguing.” The beast rumbled, its voice the echo of thunder in the silent room.

 >The griffon screamed before he was cut down.

 

>Like their newest member, most of Laran’s squad died ignobly.

>The sergeant was the last, standing defiantly on a table, emptying his primitive weapon and screaming his hate.

> The beast lumbered forward on all fours through the bisected remains of Laran’s comrades, ignoring the clatter of crossbow bolts on its armor.

>Before the weapon had clicked dry the claws were around the sergeant’s throat.

>There wasn’t enough pressure to cut, but enough to hold him.

>”Such bravery,” the monster burbled. “I’ll keep your pelt as a reminder.”

>The entire castle woke up under the sergeant’s cries.

 

 

>”What in hell’s name is that screaming? Will someone tell me what’s going on? And for the love of King and Country, SOMEONE turn these lights back on!” Captain Valcoran yelled to no one in particular.

>His subordinates frantically donned armor and loaded weapons in the flare-lit barracks while the all pervasive screaming echoed through the halls.

>”We’ve tried captain! The generator’s on and everything, but there’s still no light! The engineers are working on it as we speak, sir!” A lieutenant fired back as he pulled his double-handed sword from its resting place.

>Grabbing the lieutenant by the collar, Valcoran snarled, “I didn’t ask for excuses, Corsh! I ordered you to get these damned lights on!”

>”Y-yes sir, Captain Valcoran!” He stuttered.

>Valcoran silently cursed the incompetence of his men. Had no one been on patrol?

>All of the sudden, the screaming stopped.

>”Alright, squads Alpha through Epsilon, search the castle, I want whatever’s screaming found. The remaining two squad will follow me to the west wing to protect the royal family. Alright you sacks of horse shit, let’s move!”

>A flurry of Yes sir’s answered Valcoran’s barked orders as the mass of griffons filed out of the double doors.

>The line abruptly stopped halfway into the hall. A few hushed gasps and “Oh gods” ushered from the crowd.

>”Did I fucking stutter?! Move it!” the captain bellowed.

>No one responded to their leader’s rancor.

>Angered beyond reason, Valcoran pushed his way through the mass of gold armored guards.

>What exactly is the fucking holdup, Lieutenant Corsh? Do I need to spell things out for you?!”

>The young griffon doesn’t even look at his commander, instead staring wide-eyed off into the ceiling.

>Grabbing Corsh’s face, Valcoran forced eye contact between them.

>”You look at me when I fucking talk to you, you little shit!”

>”S-sir, look!” Corsh whispers fearfully, pointing a foreclaw up at the ceiling.

>Following his subordinate’s urging, Valcoran finally notices what brought these hardened warriors to a halt.

>Glistening corpses of all the guards on active patrol that night hung from the ceiling from brass chains hooked through their skinless bodies. Most lacked multiple limbs. Some moaned quietly, too stubborn to die under their torture.

>Blood dripped like rain from their mutilated forms, crimson puddles growing on the marble floor.

>”What in hell did this?” Valcoran whispered, open-mouthed in shock.

>A shadow, black against black, ghosted to the floor. Its brand new cloak flapped wetly against its body.

>Several backed away, fear stealing all thoughts of attack.

>Under the harsh glare of dozens of flashlights, the blood-slicked beast finally spoke.

>”Rejoice, little griffons! Your pitiable lives end tonight! ” The beast chuckled, the cowled thrusters on its back screaming into life.

 

Chosen’s perspective

>There was no challenge in butchering these warriors. Their bodies broke as easily as their courage.

>But their fear tasted SO sweet. These duty-bound guards first fought, then broke and panicked, terror stealing any thought of resistance. Some tried to run or fly away, but the only exit to the barracks was being held by you. A few made it, but only a few.

>You did not even bother to parry the guards’ attacks. The most they could do was scar the paint of your armor.

>A half-dead soldier clawed at your greaves, begging you to spare him.

>Your foot claws crushed his weeping head before he could finish his plea.

>The stink of loosed bowels, the tang of spilt blood and the screams of the dying saturated your senses, sending you over the edge. Nothing was going to stop you now.

>Back and forth your claws sliced, eliciting screaming caws of pain and sobs for mercy from the quickly depleting crowd.

>One griffon you grasped by the throat and skinned him alive.

>Skin was torn from his body in indelicate rips, his exposed musculature glistening in the light of the flares behind him.

>How he screamed. You did not even kill him outright. You simply tossed him to the ground, content to let him suffer.

>You had more mercy on the others.

>If only a little.

>Heads rolled, limbs severed, organs slopped onto the ground.

>The slaughter went on.

 

>Not content with a few moaning griffons hanging from the rafters by their entrails, you left a surprise for the entire city come the dawn.

>Luna had performed her role admirably, hiding the stars and the moon and stealing the light from the castle. You would have to do something special for her when this was all through.

>Having painted your message on the front gates of the castle, you headed in the direction of the royal family’ bedchambers. It was time to finish this.

>With your four-legged, animalist gait, you arrived at the king’s room in short order. The guards outside had died where they stood, albeit in severed, steaming chunks.

>You had built up enough fear. Time for the finale.

>Powering up your claws, you tore into the door, the ancient oak tearing apart under your untender talons.

>Weak light from a few candles illuminated the royal bedchamber.

>The ancient king sat across the room behind a massive writing desk, fingers steepled, as if waiting on a business client to waltz through the door. Beside him stood two young griffons, one brandishing a repeater crossbow and the other with a sword. Finally, the griffon you recognized as Valcoran stood directly in front of the desk, turning to face you.

>Panic and fear painted all their faces save for the king’s.

>Kicking the remnants of the door from your path, you stride into the room.

>Standing straight, a silence descends between the five of you.

>”What’s the matter, little griffons? No more bravado from your proud race? Ha ha!”

>Your voice causes all but the king to flinch in fright. The severed griffon heads tied to your belt smack against your body with every peal of laughter.

>The two younger griffons start to raise their weapons.

>”Ah ah ah… That’s not a smart course of action.” You flick your claws, spotting their faces with blood.

>They flinch, but grip their weapons tighter.

>”What… What ARE you?” One of the younger griffon asks ignorantly.

>”Me? Why I am your sins come back to haunt you, past, present and future.” You state, idly curling your fingers. A tad dramatic, but it was necessary.

>”And you have been very deserving of this fate…” You take a step forward.

>”Back you devil!” The one with the sword calls to you as he lunges forward, wings giving him a burst of speed. Lightning crackles from the blade.

>The xenos has a power sword. It seems not all artifacts made it into the hands of the ponies.

>You catch the blade against your own energized claws and tear it from the youth’s grip.

>An instant later, the blade has sunk up the hilt through the griffon’s chest, piercing his heart. He falls limply to the floor, silently twitching in death.

>By now, Valcoran has prostrated himself, begging to live, the king and the younger griffon have rushed to the fallen boy’s side.

>”Damn you beast! Damn you to the darkest hell!” King Toroc half weeps, half shouts at you as he cradles the lifeless body in his claws.

>”No no no! Come back to me, brother!” The other griffon weeps. They all must be related.

>You stand silently, watching the drama unfold. It painfully reminds you of Scout’s death, if but a little.

>No time for whining or pity. You came here for a reason.

>”Know this, little king. Your calls for war against an innocent nation have roused me from the darkest hells. Your lusting for territory and revenge for a war centuries old will be your undoing. Now, abandon your thoughts of conquest, and remain here, in peace and safety. Grow and prosper, and do good to your people and your neighbors. If I ever notice your armies on the march again, even a scouting party in the woods, it will not just be your guards who suffer, but your entire race. Do I make myself clear?”

>Toroc spat against your helm, defiant as ever.

>Not bothering to wipe the spittle from your armor, you turn to Toroc’s last son.

>”Tell me boy, are you next in line for the throne?”

>His tear-streaked face nods jerkily.

>”Good.”

>Fast as lighting, you are behind Toroc. With a downward swipe, both wings fall to the floor, occasionally spurting blood on the floor. The ancient king howls as you pick him up by neck and toss him through a nearby window.

>His screams pierce the quiet night before ending with a loud splat on the streets below.

>Turning back to the boy, you speak once more.

>”Did you understand what I told your late father earlier, new king?”

>Through shivering fear and spasming sobs, he gurgles out, “Y-yes.”

>”Good. Tomorrow you will send an emissary to Canterlot and apologize for your father’s actions and make amends. Understood?”

>He nods jerkily.

>”Then I am through here.”

>The still-groveling form of Valcoran blesses you for sparing him. Disgusted at his shameful display of cowardice, you smash his head into paste.

>With that, you leap out the window and soar off into the darkness, leaving the bloodstained castle behind you.

 

>As dawn broke the next day, the citizens of the Griffon Kingdoms’ capital finally gazed upon Chosen’s work.

>Though breaking the will of their leader was paramount, so to was instilling fear in the average griffon.

>To that end, you had skinned and mutilated every guard in the castle and hung them by their entrails from the castle parapets.

>Blood had streaked down the grey granite, staining the proud castle red with the fluids of its defenders.

>On the massive gates to the castle, written in bloody letters five feet high was a few short sentences.

>”Beg for forgiveness for your sins, griffons, lest I return once more. The day will never save you, and I own the night.” Beneath the crimson letters a bat-winged skull was carved into the wood, a calling card for this death and destruction.

>The effects were immediate. Not knowing who or what had done this, thousand’s flocked to places of worship, begging their gods’ forgiveness for every conceivable sin. Priests roamed the streets, calling for penance and hailing the coming of the end times. Conspiracy theorists said it was the work of aliens, but they never truly imagined how right they were.

>Most importantly, all thoughts of war and bitterness towards Equestria dissolved, instead being replaced by abject fear of the “Night Stalker”.

>No one ever left their houses after dark for many years afterwards, and parents for generations in the future would scare their children with warnings that the Night Stalker would come for them if they didn’t say their prayers and be good little griffons.

>All in all, Chosen succeeded. There would be no war.