Chapter 1: A Late-Written Prelude and My Arrival

Author's Note:

Bass

By N30N-THUND3R

Time is situationally relevant. As said by a famous person back on Earth, “A second may seem like a year while walking on hot coals. A year may seem like a second while trying to court your beloved.”

As of this point in my life, I can say that he was right. And thus my first statement: time is situationally relevant.

This, this chapter of my series that I am writing at this very moment, is my last if you take it by chronological writing date.

My doctor- Whooves is his name- tells me with accurate precision that the magical influx that began affecting me the moment I was put in this wonderful, colorful world- was going to reach its peak and kill me tomorrow at noon. Still, reaching 107 years of age is a wonderful accomplishment.

The reason I am writing this now instead of tomorrow is because I want- No. We want- my last moments to be with her. The wonderful mare who I was lucky enough to marry. She was just as aged as I was, but she was certain to have at least a few more months until she and I would be, once again, reunited.

Our adopted children visited me with children and some grandchildren of their own. They all knew of my worsening condition and wished to say some manner of goodbye. There were tears aplenty from all my descendants, and from those yet to become part of the family.

My youngest and only son, Maple Frost, even asked for my blessing in his marriage, in which I wholeheartedly obliged. Maple and Apple Blossom will have a wonderful life together. Maple even promised to name his firstborn after my namesake. From an outside perspective, my once emerald green yet now greyed eyes would shine with pride. But enough of my doting. I had enough time for that while I was much healthier.

I should get onto what this prelude is meant to do. But first some acknowledgements that you all skipped over.

First, to my transcriber: Princess Twilight Sparkle. I wish to thank her for all of her work actually sitting here, listening to me rattle of this life story of mine as well as writing it verbatim on her scrolls. Without her, this book- these books- wouldn’t exist.

Second, to my family on Earth. I wish to thank them for raising me as well as encouraging me through life. I only wish that I had the chance to say goodbye.

Third, to my family on Terra. I thank them and continue to thank them for making my life here in Equestria the best it could have been, even up until now, my last days. You all have made my eighty-five years on Terra all the more wonderful and spectacular.

Fourth, to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Even though you two never actually found me a cure to this magical influx, I still thank you both for accepting me into the glorious Equestrian Kingdom. By the way, Princess Celestia, you still owe me twenty bits.

Finally, to you, the reader. I only thank you for taking the time to read my story. I truly can’t overstate this: thank you. Just know, I will insert the proper names for the races even though I didn’t actually know them at first.

Now let me start just a bit before it all started.

My name is Marcus Oswald Finch. Said name was derived from my grandfather, Marcus Jameson Heywitch, and my father, Oswald Morrison Finch. I was born with bright, emerald green eyes and matte black hair. At the age of twenty-two, which was the age I had reached upon transportation into Equestria, I was five feet and eleven inches in height and weighed in at one hundred thirty-three pounds. Built like the average human, I was neither well toned nor pudgy in any way. I was just an average guy.

It all started April 12th, 2028, otherwise known to me as arrival day. It was a nice, calm Saturday on the college campus. But, alas, I was stuck inside working for one of the only sit-in restaurants that had not switched to using robotic waiters. Speaking of which, was my job.

Just the waiter part though, not the robot part.

The incident happened at around noon, a time at which, now looking back, everything seems to happen. My father/boss pulled me to the side minutes earlier to tell me to soften the mood of the restaurant with my skills with the viola.

After playing a few songs softly, I saw the looks dressed upon the patrons grow mellow and calm. A woman with her family in the restaurant sent over her young boy who put a ten dollar bill in the tip jar, which was resting right beside the little platform on which I was performing.

After finishing my last song, which was my own rendition of one of Bach’s works of art, I set my viola on its lonely stand directly behind me. I began my trek off the stage, and as I neared the edge, my foot caught on a slightly loosened and raised plank, which sent me sprawling forward.

Instead of being met with the definite nose-breaker that was the mosaic tile floor, I was caught by a soft bed of grass.

In that moment, I knew something was wrong. It was a pervasive and disruptive thought that bounced and rocketed throughout and around my mind, making my cool, calm composure crack and splinter.

I couldn’t help but scream the moment I stood and found myself in a forest. I managed to take in the fact that I was near the edge of the aforementioned forest, which, in and of itself, was nearby to a township. Other than the weirdly organized town, of which I could make out during my period of sanity, I saw no recognizable settlements.

The scream was more of a deep, bass filled yell than anything else, mostly due to my bass-ranged voice, which actually gave me the nickname “Bass.”

After a few seconds of my yelling, my own voice gave out on me, forcing my yells to turn into choking sobs. A few minutes later, which was around ten minutes of sobbing, the sound of muffled hooves on grass and dirt reached my ears.

“Come on, girls. We need to find whatever made those yells. It could be a threat to Ponyville,” I heard a female voice come from the same direction as the hoofbeats.

I clearly remember this above all else from that day. I was thinking that Ponyville was a weird name for a town, before I was forcibly shown the reason why it was named as such. Another few minutes after standing as still as a building passed me by before they burst into the small little clearing.

Ponies.

Vibrant, multichromatic ponies. That was what came after me and, I had assumed at this point, spoken about finding me.

My mind began shooting blanks faster than I could keep up with. Several different versions of the same theory began to rocket around my mind, surely making my gaze that of an unresponsive vegetable. My subconscious was secretly hoping for some manner of silent time in which to process everything up until that point. The ponies who had just found me had other plans. Which, in layman’s terms, meant that they began to scream.

“AHHH! What is that thing?” The purple, alicorn pony screamed in shock.

“I don’t know. I thought you would know,” The blue pegasus shouted in response. It was during this circular bout of screaming out questions and responses about me that I covered my ears and kneeled on the ground. Even after doing said actions, I could still hear the screeching mares.

“GIRLS! Can’t you see that you’re scaring the poor dear,” the soft yellow pegasus tried to shout, which sounded only as if one would use their softest indoor voice. Surprisingly enough, the other five mares, which I took the time to count while kneeling, heard the yellow pegasus’s comment. She began to slowly make her way towards me, which I had wonderfully failed to notice, and stopped when she was only a mere foot away. “There’s no need to be scared. We won’t hurt you,” the pegasus said softly a foot away from my right ear, making me jump in fright.

“Can you promise me that?” I asked softly, yet still loud enough for all six to hear. It took them a moment to process what I just had said. Soon enough, one of them responded.

“I may not be able to speak for us all, but I can say with one hundred percent honesty that I won’t hurt you,” the orange earth-pony spoke with a southern belle accent.

“I wouldn’t dream of causing one such as yourself any harm, darling,” the white unicorn spoke with the accent found with a British socialite.

“The same holds true for me,” the cyan pegasus spoke with a raspy, tomboyish intonation.

“And me!” the pink earth-pony announced jubilantly while bouncing around. This especially confused me, seeing how this pony could actually bounce around.

“Same here,” the violet alicorn spoke with a sure sense of finality. “Now, if you don’t mind, would you tell us your name along with the name of your species?”

“I guess so. My name is Marcus Finch, and I am a human,” I spoke, answering the two-part question posed to me by the purple pony. She seemed to pull a roll of paper and quill from thin air, levitating it in front of her while she took notes. A breeze picked up, quickly chilling me and causing me to shiver.

“I’m Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she said after making the scroll and quill to vanish. I bowed to her quickly, after which she told me wasn’t necessary.

“I’m Rainbow Dash, fastest pegasus in the sky,” the blue pegasus said pointing a hoof at herself as well as taking off from the ground.

“I’m Applejack, farmpony at Sweet Apple Acres,” the golden yellow earth-pony directed toward herself modestly.

“I’m Fluttershy,” the butter-yellow pegasus muttered softly. Despite the low level of volume, I still managed to hear her name.

“I’m Rarity, Ponyville’s only fashion expert,” the white unicorn said in her fanciful accent.

“And I’m Pinkie Pie!” the bubbly pink earth-pony hopped around with enthusiasm, “Party planner extraordinaire.”

“It was nice to meet you all. So I assume that, because of your previous actions upon seeing me, you have never seen, nor heard of humans before, correct?” I asked, already knowing the likely answer.

“You’re assumption would be correct,” Twilight answered quickly and succinctly.

“Of course it is. And I assume that you would be unable to send me to where I belong, correct?” I questioned again.

“With me, it would be a correct assumption. With Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, however, it might be a different matter,” Twilight answered, giving me an unexpected response.

“When could I meet these Princesses of yours?” I asked, genuinely excited at the prospect of going back to where I belong.

“Whenever they have time to meet you,” Twilight responded with an answer that sounded almost cryptic.

“That would be nice, but I just realized, I have nowhere to stay,” I said, the realization making my reality come crashing down around me.

“You don’t have to worry about that, silly. The Ponyville Inn offers the first three nights of staying there free,” Pinkie Pie stated, giving me a dead-set, serious look.

“Are you serious?” I asked the bubbly, pink mare.

“Of course,” Pinkie responded quickly.

“Alright, take me there please,” I said in quick retort.

“Okie-dokie,” she said before bouncing off in the direction of town. We all followed closely behind Pinkie as she quite literally, and mind bogglingly, bounced towards and into town. As we made our trek through the town, I noticed two things.

First was the marks on all of the ponies rumps. When I asked about them, Twilight quickly responded with a, “They’re Cutie Marks,” and nothing more. I made a mental note to ask more about them later.

Second was the fact that not a single, living soul- other than the seven of us- was outside. I noticed some ponies inside some of the houses simply staring at me with fright overpowering all other emotions on their faces. I had pointed that out as well and only got a brief little comment from Twilight.

“It’s Zecora all over again,” she muttered with a tone that screamed “I give up”.

Soon enough, which happened to only be a few minutes, we reached what I assumed to be Ponyville Inn, due to the fact that Pinkie Pie had stopped walking and said, in abbreviated terms, “We’re here!”

“Thanks a lot. I’ll go in and get things squared away,” I said. My eyes drifted skyward and noticed the sun reaching out towards the western horizon, in a metaphorical and personified sense, “Goodnight, girls. With any amount of luck, and a heap of courage, I’ll have a job by tomorrow,” I said, walking towards the inn’s entrance as a chorus of, “Goodnight, Marcus,” sounded from behind me.

The moment I walked into the Ponyville Inn, the mare at the front desk said, without looking up, “Hello, welcome to the Ponyville Inn. We have the first three nights free for new guests. How can I help you?” the receptionist said all of this without even looking up from a magazine, the title of which I could not make out.

“Umm, yes. I would like to get a room, if that would be alright,” I said, answering the receptionist’s previous question.

“Alright then. If I could-” the receptionist stopped speaking the moment she looked up and saw me standing there at the counter, standing a solid two feet above said flat surface. She seemed to have lost her composure briefly before managing to get it back. “Could I get you to sign this agreement of rental?” the receptionist passed me a piece of paper which was, in essence, a legal contract that, in an abbreviated sense, removed most of the person-based liability from the inn. The contract was cleverly written, and not unfair in the slightest.

I signed the paper with a quill that was passed to me with the form. I dipped the quill in the only pot of ink nearby and began to scratch out my signature on the paper. The moment the quill hopped off the paper for the final time, the mare in front of me took and stored the paper somewhere under the counter, before taking the quill and ink.

“You will be in room seven. Here’s your key, and if you have any trouble, see the manager in his office,” a key was handed to me and a smile was given and received on both ends of the conversation. I walked to the room designated with the number seven and unlocked the door. The room was furnished to the point of mild comfortability. It fit the basic needs as well as provided some other necessities, such as a couch and a bookshelf. Everything was to my liking, from what I could see.

I quickly made my way to the bed,which was set right in the middle of the room. I hopped onto the bed, letting my body relax against the soft cushions that made up the bed. I did not remember my dream from that night.

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