Chapter 1:

"Chapter 1: "One of those days"

Hello. My name is Beacon, and I have a story. It may not be the best you’ve ever heard. Hell, even I can admit that there are some things that just could have gone better or jokes that could have been funnier. But that’s not how things really happen. I know that and you know that and I could talk about what I know for hours. But your not here for that. No, we should start from where I started learning things. I learned about myself. I learned about pony kind. I learned how to tie a tie. I learned how to DJ. I learned how to have epic battles to epic music. And I learned how to kill when necessity strikes. Other than the tie part I don’t feel proud of any of this. But this is important. If not for you then for all of Equestria. That we stop this… thing and learn what I learned before it’s too late. All great stories must begin on a lesson. so let us start from when I learned to survive hurtling down a cliff in a train car. That seems like a good place.

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“Good evening everypony!” came the smooth, feminine voice over the radio, interrupting the lasting drumbeat of the previous song “It’s getting dark. And you know what that means. Yes it’s time for “The Transfer” with your host, ME! None other than DJ P_” The radio cut out with another burst of static as it was knocked from the wall.

My horn pierced the ceiling (again) and my backside fell back into the empty seat with an audible “thump”. The almost cushionless seats provided more than their quota of bruises as well. I was fairly sure that by the time I arrived in Canterlot my normally blue-gray coat would be tinted many shades of purple and blue. I felt some debris land on my head and I tried not to think about it, I was sure my usually gray-tourqoise mane would either be entirely white or at least: heavily speckled so. After all this I had to put my hoof down. I decided that I am not-in fact- going to pay for a new ceiling tile. And the ponys moveing the train were not getting tipped very well.

Trains rides in Apploosa were less than smooth and more than frightful. As proved by the last bump that knocked some dirty cheap paintings and the dented, rusted radio from the walls of the train car. Groans of pain and annoyance came from all over the caboose cabin and I’m pretty sure I was about to set the Equestrian Record for “Most holes punched in a roof in under an hour”. There were two interesting thins about this particular bump though. The first is that reactions to this tiny little life-endangering bump actually show more about these ponies’ personalities than I could ever tell you in words without writing a full field report. Secondly… Well if I told you now it wouldn’t be any fun would it? Besides, My thinking was cut off anyway.

“In the name of all that makes Cider who shut off the music, and why does he want to die so badly?” came a thick country accent from the front. The owner of the voice could only be described as Terrifyingly tall, Monstrously muscular, and bamboozling brown. (You try and come up with a synonym for “Evil” or “Terrifying” that starts with the letter “B” with a headache like I had) I heard him get on the bus earlier. He said his name was “Timber Jack” and I advise to never make fun of his name. He was a brown earth pony with a brown mane and dark brown eyes. It doesn’t even make sense how he can be one color in such a sea of pastel ponies. I loked away in fear when he spoke on instinct. This colt was just that scary.

“Calm down man, it’s just a bump” Came a slow, chilling voice from behind me. That one came from a Pegasus behind me. He was a lime green color, which quite frankly was pretty surprising for such a dull and boring pony. I honestly thought he was asleep at this point. But the sound of my many ceiling kisses may have woke him up. His mane, which was a similar color to his body, was kept messily on top his head. “Just like the last 74” This wasn’t the first time this brave Pegasus crossed Timber Jack this ride either. He seemed to be egging him on despite his slow and relaxed tone. I could see other ponies placing bets on the likelihood of his untimely demise but that would be a bit unfair. Even if he could fly that earth pony looked like he could jump higher.

My ears were met with the accented voice again. “Hey Doc, If I murder Whirly Bird over there could you fix him up enough so I could kill him again?” he exclaimed (much too happily) as he popped over the low wall separating his seat from Doc. Nurse’s

“I don’t really know. Death is pretty much out of my jurisdiction” Came a relaxing tone from the left side of the cabin “But I could give it a shot I guess” she shrugged. I didn’t doubt her either, Earth ponies appear to be capable of the impossible whenever they felt like it. There are legends in my town of one managing to fit a cloud in a diaper and play catch with it like a Pegasus and even seemingly teleporting around a kitchen like one of Canterlot’s most learned unicorns. Her coat was black, which was unusual for a medical assistant like her, but I shouldn’t be one to judge. She had such great gray eyes after all…

“Listen, Timber is it? Can you please just lay off it? I’ll have the radio fixed in a minute,” said a smooth voice from the floor. The faint red unicorn on the floor was already fixing the broken radio. His burgundy mane was done up neatly and he looked pretty handsome I suppose… if your in to that sort of thing. “But the dials busted pretty badly, only the unicorns will be able to work it properly. You have to turn this itty-bitty little nub far on the inside.”. And if your looking for a way to set off an earth pony-well poor Burgendove just found it. The second he was given an actual reason to be so angry Timber Jack lit up like a bonfire and started to berate the poor unicorn on the floor with a large range of insults and curses.

“Can we please just keep it down?” Came a forth voice from the cabin. “This doesn’t need to be a big event!” This is a bit of a shocker for you folks at home. The owner of this voice was “Sweet P.” Jones. Yes fillies and gentlecolts Miss Sweet P. Never herd of her? Neither did I. She thought she was a big shot though and was very business like about things. Even if she did have a travelling kitchen I wouldn’t expect her to act like that. I’ll admit she wasn’t that bad to look at though. Her mane flowed an almost sparkling blue and her coat was a shining white. She continuously complained about the service as if her “manager” messed up on her accommodations or something. I find it easier to just not doubt her and live with it. She stayed out of everypony’s way most of the time though. So there is that.

“Oh I think it does little lady. Now mind your own business and let the colts handle things around here” Came the accent again. Now I don’t need to tell anypony why that sentence was a bad idea. When he said that three objects that I can only describe as flaming orbs of fury and malice popped over the low walls and seemed to beam hate directly into the brown Earth Pony. I see that sort of thing in my nightmares and somehow Timber Jack just found a way to make things worse. “What? It’s true. We are colts, and we are solving things without your help,” he claimed.

That’s when I left the car. I don’t think even such a mean pony like that deserves the full wrath of 3 mares and the obligatory wrath of 2 colts. Now, it’s at this point your wondering a) who the last mare is and B) where the hurtling off a cliff part comes in. All will be explained in time. Feeling akward and excluded I stepped outside to see absolutely nothing attached to our cart. Fate had decided the hurtleing part was now. That “bump” was our car unhitching. Worst of all we happened to pick the end speeding towards a cliff-while the rest of the train a-chug-chug-chugged in safety. Sometimes just feel like hating everything. A small rock kicked up from the wheels grazed my mane and brought my mind back into the seriousness of the situation. I looked back at the closed dorr wondering if those ponies were worth saveing. Banishing the thought from my mind I raced back into the cabin. And I had to stifle a laugh.

Once inside, I saw Timer Jack being held up with Burgendove’s wavy red magic with his hooves against the ceiling; while the three mares took turns throwing objects at him like some sort of cursing piñata. It would be a hilarious spectacle if not viewed at a 65-degree angle. I threw the nearest object (Fire extinguisher) and made the loudest noise I could with it (threw it out the window). I don't remember what I said exactly. It probobly went somewhere along the lines of "WE'REALLGOINGTODIEAHHHHHHHH" due to the reactions I got.

“What’s going on out there?”, shouted Doc. Nurse

“SOMEPONY GET ME DOWN” cried Timber Jack.

At that point I heard a record skip and a large picture bounced off Timber Jack’s left nostril. I just noticed his cutie mark was of half a log. Should have guessed. But ponies like that don't deserve my attention.

“HOLD ON TO SOMETHING” I warned over the chaos “WERE GOING OFF”

I heard three pops. Multiple "WHAT?"s a few screams of terror. As well as a VERY angry Timber and strangely enough. A chicken before impact.

I woke up and it was dark. Except for the fire. Fire was bright. And painful. Oh did I not mention? I was on fire. It was painful. Luckily for me I suppose I guess some pony figured out that “FLMPGR THRUMPLWUMPLE GAOW WOW OWOWOWOWOW” translates roughly to “Please extinguish this fire while I still own a coat and a reconisable face” Somepony covered me in a magic coat and choked out the flames for me. I was starting to hate my noise-makeing descision.

Collapsing in pain and exhaustion I looked around. Timber Jack was pulling the gray mare from the burning cabin. Whirly Bird and Sweet P were flying around trying to figure out where everypony was and how the train caught fire in the first place. The doctor was tending to Timber Jack who was on the ground in pain and Burgendove was taking care of me. He assured me everything was going to be all right. He said that the pegasi found us shelter with a steady food and water supply and that he thinks he was more than strong enough to carry me if I needed it. Which I did. I promptly thanked him and passed out on the ground. The ground was so comfortable after all.

I woke up again feeling wet. Which I may add is infinitely better than being on fire. I struggled to stand up and gave up on the third try. Every time I got close to achieving a sit-up my legs would give up and I would flop back into the murky water. So I lied down and drank some cave water and waited to be noticed. Wait, Cave water?

Apparently panic gives me super strength because I managed to sit up. I was right. We were in a cave. Doc was tending to a blue-gray mare. Sweet P. was cooking over a fire. Burgendove was setting up beds. Whirly Bird was flying around doing nothing other than barrel rolls. And two brown Earth Ponies stood in the corner. Yes I said two. You see apparently Timber Jack is two ponies. Timber and Jack. While we saw Timber in the cabin dureing the ride. Jack was on top of the car winning a bet. Remember how I said that Earth Ponies are capable of many things? Well that would also explain why earlier I saw one Timber Jack almost dead and the other saving lives. Everypony was trying to find a way to pass the time I guess until eventually somepony would bring up the topic of rescue.

I began to take note of my surroundings. The glowing embers of the old fire were just beggining to die out. In the dim light I couldn't make out many details. I managed to confirm that we were in the mouth of a cave. A cave which had deeper levels. I manadged to see the rough walls were coated in a slick substance in places. But bone-dry in others. I could see very far from the mouth of the cave and even from where I was sitting I could see the dim lights of Apploosa in the distance. Thats where we would be headed I guess. In the morning.

Well seeing how I am stuck in this pool I figure I should introduce myself properly. My name is Beacon. I am a unicorn that stands a little scrawnier than others but not pathetically so. You already know my colors (which at this point were clean of debris but partially seared a blacker black than the darkness) my cutie mark could be described as a star with beams of light extending horizontally outward farther than the rest. I don’t quite understand it but it looks cool and all. I don't even know why what I did to get it is important. I never used that skill again.But that's a story for a different time My eyes are a dull turquoise but I’ve always seen them as electric blue when I look at them in mirrors and the like. The cave water showed nothing but dirt. I honestly can’t believe I drank that.

As I was looking around a spectacle emerged in the middle of the cave. Too my surprise Burgendove was the one who started it.

“All right. If we are going to survive here until help arrives I think we are going to need to know a bit about each other right?” He stated with various nods and mutters of agreement from around the room. I just noticed his cutie mark at this time. It was of a wrench. But I thought earlier it was a screwdriver. I guess you just don’t question unicorn magic. Maybe it just changes to whatever tool is needed for the situation. “My name is Burgendove” he continued, “I am a repair pony from way out an hour past Ponyville. I enjoy fixing things and will be our primary designer and repair pony. How is everypony today?”

“Fine, I’m Timber” came one Appleoosan accent,
“And I’m Jack” came the other. “And we are lumber ponies from Apploosa. Well until we were driven out and put on a train to the Forever-freed forest or something”

It was Sweet’s turn as she spoke “Well I’_” before being cut off abruptly.

“I really don’t care about you Sweetie Pie or whatever your name is. You’ve introduced yourself too many times as it is.” Timber interuppted. He looked around, “You!” he exclaimed with one hoof pointed directly at the blue-gray unicorn mare in the background. “Your name, you haven’t said a single word to anypony” I really was starting to dislike this colt at this point. I can’t believe he hadn’t figured it out. And I scowled at him as hard as I could until my face got tired.

Her coat was stunning and smooth. Her mane: a fine mix of dark and electric blue was tied back and kept in a long tail. Her actual tail was sleek and smooth and her cutie mark was of an artistic subwoofer that also had record grooves in it. She wore a gold band on her right foreleg and kept a pair of sleek blue goggles around her neck. Despite the obviously hostility when pointed out to everypony she smiled and let out a record scratch. And hoped up and down really really fast.

You read that right. But I don’t think Timber did. He asked again and was met by the same answer. Same question same answer. Apparently Timber doesn’t like being made a fool. He got right up in the poor mare and began and screaming at her untill his voice went hoarse. I felt bad for her. This poor unicorn would have to go through everypony she ever met. My heart went out to her.

This one-sided yelling contest went on for what seemed like 15 minutes before Doc intervened. “SHE CAN’T TALK” she screamed, but somehow maintaining a silky tone. “She’s mute Timbo: or whatever your name is.” She waited for everypony to calm down before continueing. “She can’t talk all right? She isn’t like you or me. She never could and never will. She does however know sound effects. And that record scratch is her name”

At this a red-faced Timber decided on a new target. He picked Whirly Bird this time. “Ey YOU!” he called up at him “Stop your twirlin’!”

“I can’t, this is what I do when I’m nervous. Should I not be nervous in a situation like this?” Came his reply. I’ll admit his twirling was a tad annoying but if that’s what he does, that’s what he does. I let ponies be with quirks like that. It's better to just not hate on thing you don't know about.

“Well stop bein’ so damn nervous!” came the thick reply. That one was Jack. He seems the nicer of the two, which isn’t really saying much.

The next few minutes were composed of Timber trying to find targets to berate before he stormed off further into the cave. Jack apologized for him and followed close after. It was akward for a long portion of time. I spent it watching a little fuzzy patch on the pool go in circles.

The akward silence that enveloped the gave was deafening. I was about to scream just to hear a noise when Burgandove broke it for me.

“Hey uhhh. Mare girl? The bluish one.” Came the shy and skittish question.

He was met with three clicks and a double-wub. The mare didn't even turn around.

“Is it O.K. if we make a name for you? I’m not good at making sound effects.”

The gray mare laughed. Or I thought it was laughing. I guess if laughing were a superponybeat sound effect it would be the noise she made. The important thing is that she thought on this for a moment before writing her name in the dirt on the floor with her horn. What she wrote was one of the fondest names I'll ever remember.

SCRATCH

“Seems fitting” sighed Burgendove before rolling over and falling asleep.
“It’s lovely” came the voice of Doc from the corner of the room.
“Gotta admit, it has a ring to it,” muttered Whirly Bird.
“It does have a certain charm” finished Sweet P.
Scratch Track has the biggest smile on her face.

Sweet P lived up to her hype. The food she served us that night tasted great for stuff she managed to gather and boil. And by that I mean none of us are dead. The soup still tasted like hoof grit and chicken spit. But the thought was there right? I mean it’s hard to make gourmet foods out of rocks, cave water and mushrooms. I ate it without complaint. I did laugh to myself however on what would happin if Timber was still in the cave mouth with us.

The ones of us who were awake then fell asleep one by one. I slept in the bed Burgendove made for me and it was the warmest bed I ever slept on that was located on a rock. And by that I mean it was a bed of grass and a rolled up curtain for a pillow. But it was good to get some sleep and I took solace in the fact that it is better than what that Timber guy was getting. Poor Jack though, he would always be grouped with his brother. Maybe he enjoys it though? I stopped thinking it didn’t matter anyway.

Later that night I was fumbling around and stumbled upon an ld tape recorder. I popped it in but dozed off halfway through the second line. I think I’m getting tired just thinking about it. It had my name written on it-, which was weird. But it also had little nubs I could put in my ears to listen to it. So I didn't care. I like ear-nubs. And really at this point my mind shut down with exaughtion. But even weirder was that the next morning it wasn’t there. Timber probobly took it. I was starting to hate Timber.

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All right, is this thing on? Hello Beacon. How are you? Because I know how you’re about to be. I’m warning you now Beacon this cave isn’t a haven of safety. And tomorrow; you won’t be able to leave it. It… It happens different every time but the outcome is always the same. Beacon you need to listen to this and get out. We pulled a lot to get you this chance. Get out and close this forsaken cave off! Get it a guard! Do something! ……I don’t have enough time to explain who I am or how I know all of this. If you fail. And I know you will fail. I will give you more information later. But you need to trust me on this. Don’t believe me? I can also tell you how you got here. Your train de-railed. You were in pain. You ended up here. Someone found a picture. You slept in a bed someone else made. Am I magic? No. In fact I'm an Earth pony. Beacon I figured all this out on my own. And you need to trust me on this. Beacon I beg you. For my sake, For your sake, for your love’s sake, for the sake of everypony who comes in here in the future and for the sake of all of Equestria. GET OUT NOW. I… I lost a lot getting you this chance and I beg for it not all so go to waste. Not so soon.
Not after that.

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