Location: Baltimare
Time: An indeterminate time ago
“Are you sure about this, Master?” a reverberating stallion-esque voice asked. His voice had an accent similar to those in Canterlot.
“Yes, yes I am,” A mare's voice replied, in a voice with no discernible accent.
A crunching sound was heard as the mare ate some cereal.
“But you have so many things going for you here! It would be foolish to give it all up for a miniscule chance at success!” the 'stallion-voice' exclaimed.
“I don’t care, if there's any chance that she’s in Ponyville, then I will take that chance! Even if she isn’t, I’m sure the citizens have heard of her and could give me an idea of where to look,” the mare responded, mouth full of Honey Bunches of Oats.
“Master, I doubt that a small town such as Ponyville has heard of her,” the 'stallion-voice' countered.
The voice did not belong to a stallion. In fact, it did not belong to a pony at all. He seemed to be more of a living shadow. Slightly taller than a pony, the ethereal being was almost completely black in color, his eyes being the sole bright area of his figure. They were a sinister shade of white, should such a thing be possible. Atop his head lay not a mane, like most beings of this world, but instead tendrils made up of Celestia-knows-what. His arms ended in long, sickle-like fingers which, while gave him the ability to hold objects, also gave him a look of killer. Fortunately for pegasi, he seemed to be tethered to the ground, but the tether point was surrounded by a fog of a less cohesive shadow substance.
“Maybe, maybe not, we will never know unless we try, now won’t we?” the mare questioned.
The mare, on the other hand, actually looked like a mare. She was a unicorn of average height, and had a coat of a light purple color. Her mane was up in a tail fashion, and was mainly light blue in color, but had orange-ish accents. Her cutie mark was odd, it seemed to be some sort of eye-shaped hieroglyph looking shape. However strange her cutie mark may be, her most striking feature was her eyes. She was, as most doctors would say, a heterochromic. Half of her eyes were a vibrant blue, the other, a bright yellow. The two colors blended seamlessly and seemed almost natural. Her eyes, combined with her strange cutie mark, gives her an enigmatic appearance, a mystery to all who behold it.
“Well, I guess we could give up a well-paying job, a nice apartment, and what little friends you have to go exploring through potentially dangerous wilderness in search of somepony who may not even be where we think she is. Or we could also check up on our sanity because somepony here is clearly insane!” the shadow shouted.
The pony pondered this for a moment. She took another spoonful of cereal.
“Hmm, I guess we should get you fitted for a straight jacket then,” the pony had a small smirk on her face.
“I still think this is a dumb idea.”
“Well then, as your Master, I command you to come with me to Ponyville,” the pony exclaimed with a haughty air, a wave of the hoof, and a fake accent, mocking the shadow.
With a ‘Hmph’ and a crossing of the arms, the shadow admitted defeat in this futile argument. The pony finished up her cereal and started packing her things.
***
The pony awoke the next morning and rolled out of bed. Using her magic, she tied up her mane quickly and went to the kitchen to eat more cereal. Upon reaching her pantry, she found out there was no cereal.
“Jacques!” she yelled into the empty apartment.
Nearby, shadows began coalescing into a shape that resembled the being from the other day.
“How may I serve you Master?” he questioned.
“Did I pack away the cereal?” ‘Master’ asked.
“I believe you ate all of it yesterday,” Jacques replied.
“I did? Oh well, I’ll just get something on the way there,” the pony casually said as she walked out of the door.
“Where are you going?!” Jacques called out as he followed his master outside, his tether point always staying somewhat beneath him.
“To resign, of course. How can I move to Ponyville if I’m employed in Baltimare?”
The pair walked throughout the big city, the pony grabbing something to eat at a local restaurant. They both arrived, after navigating through the throngs of citizens, at the police station.
“Detective Enigma reporting for resignation!” the pony named Enigma shouted in the near-empty reception area, saluting in the process.
“What?! You’re leaving?!” the receptionist yelled, clearly surprised at Enigma’s declaration.
“Yup,” Enigma casually said, and walked down to the chief’s office. She opened the door to her boss’s office and yelled, “I’m leaving this establishment of employment to adventure into the wild blue yonder in search of Ponyville!” in a booming voice.
“You’re leaving?! But I was just about to give you a promotion!” her boss yelled in response.
“A promotion? Cool! Bye!” Enigma exclaimed in her booming voice, and walked out the door with her head and hoof held high in triumph.
The receptionist poked her head through the door.
“Why did you hire her? She’s so weird!” she said.
“I know, but she was the best detective I’ve ever seen. She said she was going to Ponyville, do we have a department there?” the boss sighed.
“No, it's too small a town for it to be profitable,” the receptionist replied.
“Then why is she going there? She has no friends, and her parents live here!”
“I wouldn’t know, she’s too weird to talk to.”
The boss sighed and dug out his dusty ‘Help Wanted’ sign, hung it in the front window, and walked back in his office, head held in shame.
***
“You were awfully quiet back there,” Enigma pointed out to Jacques as they walked back to her apartment.
“They don’t know I exist, and it would have been pointless anyway,” Jacques clarified. After a bit of pondering, he queried, “What do you plan to do once you arrive in Ponyville?”
Enigma stopped and thought about this, as she had yet to. “Well, I’ll stop by town hall, see if I can’t get somewhere to stay and to officially be a citizen. But after that, I think I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows where she is.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Well, they we just play it by ear.”
Once they arrived at Enigma’s apartment, they gathered up all of her things, which were piled into a corner, and went upstairs to the landlord’s apartment. Knocking on the door, Enigma heard something along the lines of muffled yelling, and took that as permission to enter.
“Bye!” she yelled out into the apartment.
“Get out of here!” the landlord yelled from somewhere deep within the depths of his land. Enigma promptly left.
“Well, that was easier than expected,” she noted.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way,” Jacques said hesitantly.
“Oh well, to Ponyville!” Enigma yelled as she charged down the stairs and into the wild blue yonder.
“Ok then, how may I assist you?” the landlord asked as he poked his head out of the door to see . . . nothing.
A ways away, at the outskirts of Baltimare, Enigma tipped her hat to her hometown. She really wouldn’t miss it much, but she felt a proper farewell was needed. And with that, she turned around and started down the path to Ponyville.
A/N What should I put here? Hmm, this is my first serious story, let me know what you think.
Phhhhshhhhhhh...
(You can imagine that sound any way you please.)
Alright, alright... Inky's here, so sitcha asses down and let me handle this.
The black-maned, parchment-coated stallion known as Inky Swirl, Trottingham's own Magnificent Bastard in Charge, took a cold, stern look at the documents splayed across his table. He bore an expression of idle distaste coupled with steel resolve as his gray eyes roamed across the paper underhoof.
"Hmm," he muttered. "Mr... 'Suplup,' is it?"
The newcomer glanced at His Bastardry from his position on the metal folding chair. "Um, yeah."
"Well, Mr... Sup... Lup... it seems we have business to attend to, here, do we not?"
"... I don't know."
The monstrous stallion fixed him with a glare full of venom. "Yes," he hissed. "Yes. We. DO."
All the papers across the table flew up in a whirlwind as Inky's horn glowed. He shuffled the documents in mid-air and formed a stack, then smacked it down in front of Suplup. The hapless newcomer jumped in his seat and shriveled before the mighty Inky Sonofabitch Swirl.
"You've submitted a piece of work for my examination--and examined it, I have. Here are my findings:
1. OH, BY THE WAY! Your first 'chapter' on here is a tidbit of story information that you've actually marked, "Pre-story information." Are you perhaps familiar with "Courage: The Cowardly Dog?" There's a specific character in that show I'm feeling particularly like at this moment, as I think of his catchphrase:
vulpesffb.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/katz-with-courage.jpg
In this scenario, I am Katz, and you are Courage. Be afraid.
See, you do not--I repeat, DO NOT--flag something as, "Pre-Story info" and serve it up in less than one hundred words. No, no, no, no, no; the very act of recognizing that there's a 'story' you need to 'prepare' a reader for shines a lot on the illusion itself. I haven't even started, yet, and I already know this is a story and that there's a manipulative author behind this.
I feel like thumping you on the nose with a newspaper.
Remedy: There is only one way to include background information for readers in a way that isn't bad, shoddy, or showy. You need to sprinkle the information into the actual narrative in tidbits. Don't just slap something in my face to say, "Oh, before you start, read this, you gotta know." Let me find out through hearing about it in subtle ways through character conversation, or not-so-subtle ways through character thought. You could have very easily done that in the first actual chapter you've got up here. Besides, if you had waited and let the background info unfold naturally, it would have hooked readers much better, because we would've wanted to know what was up.
2. Accents Are Sexy, Y'know. I need to address your beginning right off the bat:
“Are you sure about this, Master?” a reverberating stallion-esque voice asked. His voice had an accent similar to those in Canterlot.
“Yes, yes I am,” A mare's voice replied, in a voice with no discernible accent.
A crunching sound was heard as the mare ate some cereal.
Okay... this opening's got the same personality defect that your "Pre-story information" tidbit had, in that it's trying to give us information immediately without us naturally learning through story progression. Nope, nuh-uh, not gonna work; cut that crap about his voice having an accent similar to those in Canterlot--you'll have time to mull that over in a few sentences, after we get into the story. In fact... cut out the "reverberating stallion-esque voice" bit, too; it's much more engaging to hear a conversation without context, because it draws people in. Do the same thing with the next line.
I'll give you an example:
"You think he'll fit?"
"Well... it'll take some pushin', but I think it could work."
"It's gonna be a real mess, you know that?"
"I knew that gettin' into it, Buddy. This crap's always a mess."
See, by not adding any detail, I just interested people--they want to know wtf is going on, and furthermore, since they're interested because of what they've heard, now, they want to see. Interest beget interest. Do you understand? Writing is a striptease, foreplay, and seduction.
3. Product Placement. Let's move on to the next bit, mmkay?
“But you have so many things going for you here! It would be foolish to give it all up for a miniscule chance at success!” the 'stallion-voice' exclaimed.
“I don’t care, if there's any chance that she’s in Ponyville, then I will take that chance! Even if she isn’t, I’m sure the citizens have heard of her and could give me an idea of where to look,” the mare responded, mouth full of Honey Bunches of Oats (tm).
Cut out that bit about the stallion-voice again, and you have something interesting to read--that's number one. Second thing: take another look at what your mare character has just said. It sounds a bit... cheesy-heroic and over-expository. Isn't there a better, more realistic way for her to respond? Something more in line with a logical detective's personality?
Oh, and by the way, if you ever insert a brand name into a pony fic again or use a frigging trademark symbol, I will syc all my diamond dogs on you. No, no, no, and no again.
4. I'm Hearing Voices, Doc! Help Me! Here's the thing about dialogue--once you establish who's speaking in a one-on-one conversation, you do not need to keep tagging who speaks.
“Master, I doubt that a small town such as Ponyville has heard of her,” the 'stallion-voice' countered.
I get that the 'stallion-voice' replied without you even mentioning it was him; who else would've responded, the cereal bowl?
The voice did not belong to a stallion. In fact, it did not belong to a pony at all. He seemed to be more of a living shadow. Slightly taller than a pony, the ethereal being was almost completely black in color, his eyes being the sole bright area of his figure.
Okay, here's a good place to stop for a moment. I'm going to teach you something about narrative perspective, mmkay?
Let's establish that the mare detective in this story is your narrator. Sure, the writing is "third-person," but she's the one experiencing everything, and it is through her that we are meant to experience the story. Now, because of this, you must think logically about what gets put into the writing in regards to how the narrator character is experiencing and perceiving things. Does this character outright think, "The voice does not belong to a stallion"?
Let's take a different tact: an impartial narrator who floats around these characters like ghosts, acting as an outsider. This is neither mare nor stallion-esque familiar, but just... a pair of eyes. The reader, if you will. In this case, the narrator sees and feels, hears, smells, and tastes, but does not put in thoughts. "The voice did not belong to a stallion" is a conscious thought--it acknowledges that there's someone actively thinking about stuff, and the narrator is now refuting them, butting into the story.
Punch the narrator in the face.
The proper way to do that whole introduction of the familiar, I think, is to have your mare character glance at him. This is an act of observation, resulting in stimulus: the sight of the shadow-thing-pet. The effect of the stimulus is to consider the shadow-pet's appearance and voice (now being the time to comment on the accent), because the mare is looking at him, and this will prompt thoughts, whether they be conscious or subconscious.