SCENARIO RULES:
"You can get teleported anywhere in Equestria as a human, you can bring whatever 3 things you want that you posses right now. You are NOT immortal and immune to magic, however you cannot speak the same language as the ponies do or any magical creature, magic cannot help the language barrier."
I bring a zero degree sleeping bag, a large sketchbook, and a veterinarian's illustrated guide to the equine species.
I enter equestria outside of ponyville. I scout out a place to sleep that's not too chilly or wet. I start a campfire using a shoelace and the boy scout bow method. Once the fire is burning bright, I take twigs from the trees. I sharpen them to points as best I can (on rocks) and roast them in the fire. I take the books and twigs and enter ponyville proper.
I look for twilight's tree home. I use one of the twigs to sketch a pony with a magical horn and twilight's six starred cutie mark. Now to find a pony that will give me directions...
The ponies are skittish. I remember how hard it was for Zecora to be allowed to shop at the marketplace. The streets are clear, and the town looks deserted. I wander around knocking on doors. Nopony answers them. I sketch out copies of the drawing I made, adding a stick figure human beside the crude drawing of twilight. They may not recognize it immediately, but the cutie mark should let them know what I'm looking for. I stick the drawings up around town on any piece of wood that'll hold a a piece of paper. Then I go spend the night in my shelter.
I'm just about to fall asleep by the fire when I hear hooves tramping around by the edge of the trees. I sit up slowly, and the noises cease. I start to sing Country Roads, quietly but loud enough that they'll hear me. The gentle melody of the song might Soothe the ponies a bit and allow first contact to take place. There's a wild cherry tree at the campsite, and I pick a handful of cherries to offer the ponies. (since they can't kick them down dontchaknow)
The unknown ponies slowly approach and nibble at the cherries. I eat a few myself. I show them the drawings, pointing at the cutie mark. I gesture at their cutie marks so they'll understand what the drawing is. They look at each other and slip away into the darkness.
Day breaks. The sun rises. I hear the sounds of the village of ponies starting their day. I find a small lake to bathe in before I go back into town. As I'm getting dressed, I hear three steady hoofbeats. I look, and it's one of the ponies from last night. He turns and starts to walk away, but looks back. He's waiting for me to follow him. I put on my shoes and follow.
He takes me to a familiar tree house and knocks on the door. Spike answers and looks at me tentatively. He closes the door and dashes off into the house. An awkward beat passes. Then the door opens and Twilight is there. I smile, bow, and point towards the interior of the house. She looks puzzled. I ask to enter the house and she flinches at the harsh gibberish assaulting her ears. She motions with her head to come inside.
I follow Twilight into the house. I notice the shelves of books that stretch from floor to ceiling. I take a random book out and look for interesting pictures. Nothing seems especially relevant. So I take out my handy illustrated vet's guide I brought with me and lay it on the table. I open it and push it over to twilight. She may not read English, but she knows the skeletal structure of a pony when she sees it. She pages thru the volume for 20 minutes. Spike and I keep glancing at each other, waiting for something to happen. After 45 minutes go by, my stomach starts to growl. Twilight finally looks up from the book and studies my gut carefully.
Twilight approaches and neighs At me. I blink back, unsure what to say. She casts a quick spell and neighs again. I try to imitate the noise, but she look a little disgusted at the poor copy. Then she gets an idea and gives me a huge smile. I wait. She smiles again, even wider. I blink, doe-eyed. She clacks her teeth together and smiles super wide this time. Realization dawns, and I smile back at her. She steps forward and studies my teeth intently.
Twilight opens a book and flips thru a few pages. It has pictures of various mythic creatures set beside what appear to be dental impressions. Twilight takes a quill and writes down a short list and gives it to Spike. Spike reads it and, with a groan, walks out the front door.
Twilight approaches with a measuring tape. The next twenty minutes are spent checking my height, the size of my feet, and the number of fingers and toes in my possession. The final step involves coverin one hand with ink and making a neat handprint on a sheet of paper. Spike walks back in the door, with three baskets of food under his arm.
Spike puts the baskets on the table and Twilight opens one, setting it down in front of me. Are those... Daisies? It's been nearly a day since I've had a real meal. I guess I'm willing to try just about anything.
The daisies are chewy. The petals get stuck in my teeth, and they taste like moist lawn clippings. I can stomach them, but I'm not ready to clear my plate on this one.
The second basket smells rich and familiar. Spike opens the basket and pulls out a plate of hay with salad dressing and cherry tomatos on it. I chew on a piece of the hay, and grimace as politely as possible. The hay goes down hard and I wish for a glass of water.
The third basket smells wonderful. There are apple fritters, and a selection of hot banana nut muffins inside. I take a bite and the muffin melts in my mouth. Never. Never have I had a buttery, golden muffin like this one.
Driven by hunger, I finish the third basket without leaving any to share. That muffin was good in a surreal kind of way. They were made completely from scratch, the caramelized bits of cinnamon added a slight crunch, and the butter was light and creamy, obviously homemade. I stare at the plates of daises and hay, still willing to eat. But I couldn't justify a second attempt at either plate. I quietly push them to the other side of the table and cover my mouth with one hand.
Twilight carefully records my interaction with the food in a growing journal. She ponders for a moment, and then gives Spike the handprint parchment from earlier. She appears to dictate him a letter, which he writes around the handprint. When Twilight finishes speaking, Spike sends the letter off in a belched burst of green fire.
It seems to be around noon. I need to get to work on more practical concerns. Some kind of arrangement with Fluttershy seems to be the obvious idea here. Her cottage is away from civilization, and she is friend of all the silent animals. In my current condition, I might fit right in there. I take my sketchbook and improvised pencils, and sketch out a pegasus pony, adding the triple butterfly cutie mark below it.
Twilight puts more paper on the table. She sketches out a rough copy of herself, and pushes the paper in front of me. I'm not sure what she wants. She takes the quill and adds a quick sketch of Fluttershy, then gives the paper back. She magics the pencil back into my hand. She seems to want me to draw more.
So I do. I draw the rest of the the other four well-known ponies around the drawing of Twilight. I draw a circle around them, and draw a line to the top of the page where I do a laughable sketch of a large white alicorn and a smaller, dark one beside it.
Twilight and Spike watch sternly as I add to my little menagerie of sketches. I start to wonder if I've revealed too much.
I put the pencil down. I stand up and head towards the door. Spike and Twilight watch quizzically. I motion for them to follow me. I lead them back to my little campsite with the cherry tree and the remains of my campfire. I point to myself and point to the ground, indicating that this is where I am going to be staying. Twilight and Spike confer amongst themselves, and then leave me to my business. I watch them disappear off into the distance.
I start with the necessities. I gather a stack of firewood from the fallen trees I can find laying around. I scout the territory around my campsite, noting the location of fruit trees and neighbors. I arrange a line of rocks around the edge of my campsite, marking a clear boundary. I reflect on Ponyville. The local economy seems to largely based on a collection of merchants selling food to each other. I wonder if I could get away with selling this wild fruit at the market.
I notice the Everfree forest on the horizon, and start to wonder....
I need tools. "The Hatchet" was one of my favorite books as a kid. I almost regret bringing the book instead of some an axe or even a box of matches. I look at the pile of firewood I've collected. There's a tree limb about three feet long that looks like it would make a serviceable club. It's light, dry, and small enough to grip easily. Yeah. This'll do nicely.
It's about noon. I start walking off in the direction of the forest, club in hand. I note the houses and landmarks as I go. Getting lost would not be a good idea. After an hour or two, I approach the edge of the forest. I pause for a moment and listen carefully. There is nothing but the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, and the occasional bird call. I follow the path into the forest.
The trees are thick. I stay close to the path. If I venture too far from it, there's no way I'll make it back to camp before dark. I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking for. The forest is a wild and untamed place. It seems reasonable that there is something here worth finding.
I hear a wild neighing off in the forest. It sounds strained, and almost pleading. I look down at the path. I've been walking for an hour or two. Daylight is getting precious. The wild noise continues, rising as if in pain. I note the location of the path, and head off in the direction of the noise.
I walk for fifteen minutes, and I seem to be getting no closer to the source of the noise. I close my eyes and listen. Rustling branches and wind are all I can hear. Then, there is a sound of equine exhaustion. Sputtering and grunting, with a touch of... despair?
I turn towards the source of the noise, concealing myself behind a tree. I gaze around the edge, and see a translucent blue pony digging furiously at the ground. It strains and pulls, but appears to be nailed to the ground by the mane.
The pony collapses on the ground with a grunt, and stops moving. It breathes heavily, seemingly from it's struggle to free itself. I wait and watch. The pony does not move. It gives an occasional plaintive cry but remains on the ground, unwilling to move. I step out from behind the tree and clear my throat.
The pony leaps to its feet in a defensive position. It rears up, but is dragged back by its mane, throwing the pony to the ground. The pony rolls to its hooves, kicking in every direction. I am safely out of range by the tree. I wait for the pony to quit thrashing around. I take a handful of cherries from my pocket. I wonder if this horse will eat from my hand, or just bite me for my trouble.
I eat one of the cherries, spitting the pit off to the side. I take the handful of cherries and extend them towards the trapped pony. It shys away, unsure of my motive. I wait, and gently urge the pony to eat. Eventually, the pony takes the fruit from my hand. From this distance, I can clearly see the ground through the body of the pony. I look at the pony's mane where it is attached to the ground. There is a jewelled dagger pinning the mane to the ground. It seems strange that a six-inch blade could have the power to hold the adult pony to this spot. I look at the pony. It regards me suspiciously.
Maintaining eye contact, I reach down and take the dagger in my hand. The unnaturally cold metal burns my hand, and I pull away. I examine my hand. No serious damage was done, but my hand throbs from the intense cold. I grab a handful of grass, and in a quick motion wrap it around the handle and pull it from the ground. The pony leaps up and gallops off into the forest.
I stare off into the distance, listening to the hoof-beats fade off into silence. The sun is beginning to set. I've stayed to long in this forest, and have nothing to show for it except this dagger I can barely touch.
The dagger seems to be returning to a normal temperature. I tuck it behind my belt and look for my way back to the path. My worst fears are realized. In the fading light, I cannot find my way back. I am lost.
The forest comes alive at night. Unidentifiable growls, shrieks, and moans are all I can hear. I stumble back in the general direction of the path, but I can't find it. I look for lights in the distance, but none exist. I'm considering climbing a tree to look for signs of civilization when a pair white eyes appear in the darkness.
I freeze, raising my firewood club. The eyes blink and neigh softly. A translucent earth pony walks out into the moonlight. It snorts, and stares me down.
I raise a hand and greet the pony. The pony cocks its head in confusion, but pounds a foreleg on the ground in recognition. I lower the club and look around into the black depths of the forest. I am not going to find your way home tonight. The pony follows your gaze and seeing nothing, lowers its head, inviting me to climb up on it. I wonder about the safety of it, but mount the dark pony anyway. I feel myself thrown onto the pony's back as it doubles in size in a muted flash of magic. I grab hold of the billowing mane as the Clydesdale-sized steed races-- through the air-- in the direction of Ponyville. I look back at the forest. I'd circled to the west. I'd never have found the path if I had kept on walking. The pony's thunderous gait belies the fact that I am traveling six feet above the ground. A dull blue glow rises from the pony's coat, and white eyes light up the way. In spite of the wind and rhythmic pounding, I find myself being lulled to sleep on the back of the mare.
I wake before dawn, covered in grass clippings and dew. There is no sign of the blue mare. The dagger is still tucked into my belt. And the sun is starting to rise.
End Part 1
Sources studied:
http://www.pandius.com/coltpixy.html
http://cru.cahe.wsu.edu/cepublications/eb1657/eb1657.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron_in_folklore
http://www.shadowdrake.com/waterhorse.html
