Southern Anon in Equestria: Chapter 1 *Revised*

>NASCAR
>Iced tea
>Folk music
>Slight mistrust of black people
>The word "Yankee" is usually preceded by "damn"
>Confederate flags abound
>Heck, your state flag has a confederate flag
>You live in the South
>Northern Mississippi, to be exact
>You are Anonymous
>You live alone at the edge of the woods in a wooden house built in the 1930s
>Most people in your neck of the woods make their money farming or working in textile mills
>Your trade is music of the folk variety
>Your tool is a guitar
>A single maple acoustic guitar handed down in your family for generations, originally liberated from a damned Yankee in the War of Northern Aggression

>As you sit on your porch, sipping some iced tea, you turn the heirloom in your hands, examining it
>"Lyra" is inscribed in the headstock
>You'd never heard of this company, and Google never turned up anything about this particular brand
>The earliest you could find any guitar company named Lyra was in the early 1900's, nearly half a century after the Late Unpleasantness
>You've decided that the Lyra Company was probably very small, and simply faded into obscurity
>You strum the guitar and begin tuning it
>It was a tradition to play on the porch as you watched the sunset
>Ever since your father's death left you alone in the house, you made sure to keep that tradition in memory of him
>He worked in an old mill down the road, and even though he usually came home from work tired, he always managed to find the time to play guitar with his son after supper
>He had always played with you at sunset
>Just as you tune the last string, you hear a rustling in the bushes at the edge of the woods
>Being accustomed to the local wildlife, your jimmies remain settled
>You pick out the melody of the Yellow Rose of Texas, an old Confederate song

>The rustling in the bushes returns, rudely interrupting your song
>Curiosity engaged
>To the woods!
>You sling your guitar onto your back and walk down the porch steps
Hello?
>You hear the...whatever it is quickly retreating back into the woods
>Huh, must've been a fox or something
>You walk back to the porch, but stop when you hear a faint giggling from the woods
>You turn around and walk towards the source of the disturbance
Hello? Is anyone there?
>You try once more, but no answer
>With a sigh, you turn around and walk back to the porch
>Again the giggling pierces your jimmies
>Someone's fucking with you
>You don't like to be fucked with
>By the sound of the giggling, it's probably just a kid
>Though how a kid could have wandered this far out is a bit odd
>Still, it's probably not something that can hurt you, so you decide to leave your shotgun in your house
>It is getting a bit dark...
>On second thought, you take a small multi-tool knife
>You begin walking to the woods to find the source of this disturbance
>Once you enter the woods, you find the disturbance
>And the disturbance finds your jimmies
>You walk into the woods and see a small horse
>A small tan horse, lying down on its side
>From its size, it's probably no more than five years old
>It eyes are closed and it looks like its sleeping
>You look around, and see no-one.
>Who was giggling?

Alright, whose idea of a joke is this? Who just drops a horse on a guy's doorstep?
>This has got to be the weirdest prank you've ever been a victim of
>The horse's eyes open
>It stands up, slowly walks towards you, and just stands there
>Come to think of it, this horse looks more like a p0ny from the body shape and size
>Well, looks like you're going to be taking care of it until the owner can be found
Hey there little guy...
>You kneel down and start petting its mane
>It smiles...pretty odd; probably a trick its owner taught it
>That means you, Anon, are now the proud owner of a one-trick p0ny.
>It takes its hoof and rests it on your knee
>Okay, so it's a bit better trained than only one trick.
>Its head leans into yours
>Now this is starting to become a tad creepy
>Its lips go next to your ears
>Yep, this is definitely not a situation that you want to be in
>It inhales, as if to say something
>"TAG, YOU'RE IT!"
>It practically screams into your ear
>It runs off into the woods
>You just stand there, staring at where the p0ny was, trying to piece together what just happened
>Laws_Of_Nature.exe has encountered a serious error and must restart. We're sorry for the inconvenience.

>Jimmie status: More rustled than the Robert E Lee's when he found out Special Order 191 was left in a small cigar box in Maryland by one of his officers
>Animals don't talk
>You're pretty sure of this
>You might not have been to college, but you're pretty sure you remember enough high school biology to know that:
>A) Ponies don't have the intelligence to talk
>B) Ponies don't have equipment to talk
>Your curiosity gets the better of you
>Time to catch a talking p0ny
>Your walk quickly breaks into a sprint as you try to keep up with the equine
>Four legs are definitely better for running than two
>You continue to press forward, the twilight descending on you as the footsteps get further and further away until they're gone
>Defeated and out of breath, you drop
>Your legs scream
>Here you are in the middle of the woods, God-knows how far from your house, with no sense of the direction
>Oh, and there's not enough daylight to even attempt to get back home
>Other than a small knife, you have very little in the way of survival gear on yourself
>You never did plan on chasing after a talking p0ny
>In hindsight, it probably wasn't your best idea
>All in all, it's safe to say that your situation isn't very good.
>You look for a suitable site to rest as night falls.
>As far as you know, the worst in your neck of the woods is the occasional coyote
>Just to be safe, you climb into a tree to sleep
>It is slightly uncomfortable, but it should keep you safe from snakes and other things lurking on the ground
>You suspend your guitar by the strap on a lower branch, dangling in the wind
>You really, really hope it doesn't rain.

>Eventually, morning comes
>Your back isn't in a good mood
>Neither is the rest of your body
>Everything creaks and groans and hurts so very much to move
>Humans may be the descendants of tree-dwelling primates, but the ability to sleep comfortably in a tree left the family several millennia ago
>With great effort, you ascend the tree, hoping to get a better view of your surroundings
>You were lucky, it seems, and picked a tree that's a good 60 feet taller than the others in the forest
>No sign of your house, nor your town either
>That's pretty odd
>There's no way you could have run that far yesterday evening
>Especially through that thick brush
>And you don't really remember any mountains being near your town
>Wait, a mountain?
>Holy shit, you spy a mountain.
>And there appears to be a tiny city hanging off of it.
>You aren't in Kansas anymore
>Then again, you've never been to Kansas.
>Too many damn Yankees live in Kansas.
>You notice something else peeking out of the treetops
>It's grey
>It's covered in vines
>It's...a tower? A Castle? An Abandoned office block?
>Either way, it's definitely not natural, and definitely not Mississippian in origin
>Okay, so fuck Kansas
>You aren't even in America anymore
>You're pretty sure Mexico is a desert, and that Canada is a lot cooler this time of year
>Plus, you're confident that you haven't ran the hundreds of miles necessary to get to either
>You have a feeling that the p0ny had something to do with this
>First you see a talking p0ny
>Talking p0ny screams in your ear, stunning you
>You decide to follow said talking p0ny
>Talking p0ny leads you to some other country
>And by the accent, it was probably a damn Yankee p0ny

>You continue looking around
>You don't see anything more, save for some smoke rising in the distance
>Hey, smoke in the distance! Could mean civilization!
>Or, it could mean a fire ready to burn your ass to kingdom come
>Or hell, some devil coming to claim your soul
>You aren't in America anymore, after all
>For all you know, you could be in a different universe entirely
>Hell could operate differently here; demons could actively collect the souls of the living
>You remember seeing a horror movie at the theater a few years ago about just that
>The only way the protagonist defeated the demons was by holding a crucifix as he shot them in the heart
>You really hope it's the first option; you left your shotgun
>Does buckshot harm demons?
>Come to think of it, do they even make silver buckshot?
>You put that train of thought away
>If some supernatural entity was coming to claim you, you'd already be dead
>The movies you've seen never had then obeying the laws of physics
>Nope.avi
>CTL+SHIFT+ESC
>Processes
>Paranormal_Line_Of_Thought.exe
>End Process
>Your best bet right now is to head for that smoke
>You don't know where you are right now, and the only buildings you've seen are in that city hanging of that mountain and the vine-covered castle
>The castle and smoke are directly between you and the city, so it couldn't hurt to check them out.
>Perhaps you can learn a bit more about where you are by investigating them.

>You climb down the tree, strap your guitar to your back, and start walking towards the structure
>As you do, you remember that your phone is in your pocket!
>When you pull it out, though, you notice two things:
>The battery is half-dead
>There is no reception
>No surprises there; it's been on all night, and large stretches of wilderness are traditionally dead-zones.
>Heh, dead-zones.
>NOPE
>Not going down that train of thought again.
>Oh look, a dirt road!
>Paths are good signs; they mean commerce and are the veins of any civilization's economy
>And it heads directly towards the structure and smoke!
>It's also going to be harder to get lost while following a path.
>That tears it, you're taking the highway
>The song "Highway to Hell" enters your train of thought
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xv24N8H1KyI
>Fuck you, brain! I already said we're not going there again!
>If you ever get home, you swear you're never watching another horror movie again.