Mysterious stranger used Flee!
Our tale today starts in a small town a few miles out from our diarchy’s seat. In particular, an unassuming little house on the edge of town, painted white and criss-crossed by black beams. A red brick wall surrounds a modest little garden, home to a pear tree and a small kennel, inside which laid a medium-sized dog, his fur black with large white splotches. His collar proudly bore a name tag reading ‘Crowley. Please return to Maidstone Place if found.’ His tongue lolls lazily out of the side of his mouth as he sleeps in the scorching summer morning. The only door to the house sits smack in the middle of the front wall, flanked by a small rosebush and a plaque declaring the house to be called ‘Maidstone Place’. The door itself was built of a sturdy oak. While an oak door was not unusual in this town, the iron bands that were riveted to it were. To one side sat a large, black iron lock. Its surface was pitted and scratched, with a coat of black paint to cover up each new addition to its already impressive amount of damage. The keyhole itself is imposing, with a very gothic look to it. There is no handle on the door at all. The hallway behind it was a plain white, with a soapstone statue of a lion sitting on a glass and steel table. The house itself is old, but its décor and general feel is very modern and minimalistic. There is a small window just above the door, allowing a stream of light into the house. The carpet is a black-and-white checkerboard, and the welcome mat is stained from the owner’s various rambles around the countryside. There is an umbrella stand sat next to the door, filled with an assortment of monochrome umbrellas. The hallway itself isn’t very long, just big enough to fit all the items in without feeling cramped. The stairs at the end of the hall are carpeted in the same checked pattern. The room to the left of the hall is a large kitchen. The owner obviously values practicality over aesthetic value as the kitchen is filled with assorted bits and pieces, all converging on a central stove which dominated the far wall. The floor is covered in large, dark wooden planks which reflected the light perfectly from the window above the basin. To the left is the attached dining room which embraces a modern feel again, with a square table made of black painted oak, surrounded by four chairs covered in a striped material, with a large amount of padding to make meals more comfortable. Through a doorway to the right of the table, there is a small utility room filled with variable appliances for washing clothes and the like. At the other end of the room is a door leading to the room to the right of the hallway. The room was filled with an arrangement of black settees around a fireplace surrounded by bookshelves. The front of the room is one big bay window looking out into the garden, through which streams a large amount of daylight, giving the room a light, airy feel like the kitchen-diner with its large glass wall overlooking a valley filled with fields. The upstairs of the house is split into four rooms, one fairly plain bathroom, a small single bedroom that was obviously unused, a small office that contained several piles of paperwork and a large master bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. The curtains in the room are drawn, and are adorned in yet more monochrome stripes. The carpet, matching the rest of the house was a black and white check. One wall is made of mirrored wardrobes, and along the wall facing the window are several chests of drawers. The bed itself is currently occupied by the house’s owner, who is swaddled in the white bedding. She was a dark grey unicorn, with a silvery mane that obviously wasn’t from old age.
The dark grey unicorn stretched her back, her bones popping as she rolled out of her bed. She grunted as she grabbed a brush with her magic and pulled it through her mane, the latent magic within the brush causing her mane to fall down, completely covering one side of her face. She grunted in satisfaction as she stumbled towards the door, determined to check for mail before she could flop back into bed and fall asleep again. Seeing that her mail basket was empty from the top of the stairs, she trudged back up to her bedroom. She forced herself to walk past her bed into the bathroom to shower.
After being revived by the shower, she trotted down the stairs humming a little tune. She walked into the kitchen and flung open a few cupboards in search of cereal. Her search having proved inconclusive, she groaned as she grasped the alfalfa from a small bowl on the sideboard with her magic. She really despised the stuff, but when the only other produce she could get hold of easily was cider she had little choice to eat it when her stocks of stored cereal ran down. She munched through the small bunch she had in her magical grasp as she walked out of the kitchen into the living room, perching on the bay window. As she sat there, her dog suddenly shot out of his kennel, stretching his chain to the limit. She leaned to one side to see what the commotion was about, and saw a shadowy figure moving off into the distance. Her dog was barking at something that was still in the garden, so she decided to investigate. She trotted into the hallway, and pulled up in front of the door. She peered through the large keyhole, but she still couldn’t find the source of her dog’s agitation. Sighing, she levitated the key off the table with the soapstone statue, and she unlocked the door with a loud clunk as the bolt shot back into the door through the latent magic activated by the key. As she pulled the door open, her attention was drawn to a small bundle that had been left by the mysterious stranger. She lifted the bundle with her magic and rested it on the table in the hall and walked outside to calm her dog down. She gently laid a hoof on its head, and with a sharp whistle the dog went back to its lethargic self. She went back inside, and retrieved the bundle as she walked into her living room. She perched herself on the window seat once again, and started to unwrap the bundle. She peeled back layer after layer of cloth, the material becoming softer and softer each time. When the package was reduced from the size of a mare’s body to the size of a small watermelon, she was shocked by an unexpected revelation. As she peeled back the layer of fabric that was shifting ever so slightly, a small furry muzzle poked out of the hole. It was definitely canine, but it wasn’t like any dog she’d ever seen. As she unwrapped more, it quickly became apparent that it wasn’t a regular dog at all, but a Diamond Dog puppy. The little creature squirmed in her hooves, finding a warm patch on her chest where he could snuggle up to. As the tiny pup curled up against her, she felt enraged that somepony could leave such a small baby all on its own. As she looked back to the remainders of its wrappings, she noticed a note that had been scrawled in the crude handwriting of a Diamond Dog. As she deciphered the barely legible scrawl, she discovered that it had been written in crude Equush, the language of ponies. It was crude, but still readable. She floated over another piece of paper and her pencil to transcribe the writing with her magic. The pencil flashed over the page as her magic automatically corrected the mistakes in the writing and copied it into a more readable script.
To owner of Maidstone Place,
I sorry for this, but there has been bad things in our den. This pup too small to live without help. Please, is to dangerous for him. I hope you will care for him. You only pony that not scared of us.
The grammar was atrocious, but the message came through loud and clear; the dens were under attack, and the runt pup wouldn't survive on his own. The mother had no choice but to leave him with her. There was no name given for the pup, so she realised she would have to name him herself. If he was to live with her, and most importantly other ponies, he needed a relatively normal name. He had small black markings down the side of his white muzzle, and grey lines running from his ears to his forepaws, so she decided to call him 'Monochrome'. She knew that it would be a bit uncomfortable to say, but she couldn't think up anything else.
"So my little Mono, what are we going to do with you?"