#mostly evil

- Maverick Mitchell, grieving his brother Goose Bradshaw even after over 30 years

I sat at the bar in Coffee & Waffles, drowning my sorrows in ginger ale. I stared deeply into the half empty glass, the pale liquid fizzled and and swirled. Occasionally, the earth pony owner would pass by, carrying trays with a variety of breakfast dishes and drinks. My eyes would always be drawn to the missing section of his left ear. I wondered if it was bitten off in a horrible incident. A small mocha colored pony entered the restaurant, apparently delivering a bag of coffee beans. I noticed one of the other customers, a small green pony that was strangely surrounded by mountains of peas, was glaring at the the delivery pony. I wonder what that was about. 

Anyway, I shared my tale of loss with a kind pink pony with a maroon mane sitting next to me. She was enjoying a banana nut waffle. I asked her questions, looking for guidance to my dilemma. Although silent, I knew she was listening. There was a sort of quiet wisdom in her eyes. Those gleaming green eyes told me that I already knew the answer to my problem. I thanked the kind stranger and quietly left. She’s really good. A shame I didn’t let her have a word in edgewise. 

Also I had no money. 

I returned to the bright Ponyville Parkland Shopping Centre, where I asked Blitz, the mare at the customer service desk, if she had seen my Marcus. It seems nopony had reported a missing ant. 

So it was time I used my only impressive skill; magic. But to cast the spell I had in mind, I needed some ingredients. I checked out Chantique, a magic store in the shopping centre, but failed to find the component I needed. But there was a place I knew that had it. 

I left the shopping centre and looked around town for a certain traveling apothecary’s cart of wonderful tonics and tinctures. I spotted the familiar cart in the town square, the owner was talking to a freckled earth pony in a seamed cap. So it was easy to sneak into the cart through the open window. Inside, red smoke swirled up out of a bubbling cauldron. I searched the shelves, stocked with vials and bottles full of strange liquids and mysterious minerals. I spotted it, the whole dried pufferfish I needed for my ritual. I nabbed the preserved specimen and quietly climbed out the window. 

I ducked into a nearby alleyway, where I had already amassed the other components of my arcane ritual; a bone of a long dead pony, the eyes of a newt, and a bronze compass. I began to mutter in an ancient and forbidden language, the echoing words twist and bellow between the buildings. Black, shadowy tendrils slithered in from the cracks and crevices that surround me. The dried fish began to rattle as green smoke flowed out through its gaping maw, spiraling into sky above. The air grew thick and sickening, the surrounding moss and grass slowly withered. The black tendrils wiggled and writhed, licking at the objects that lay before me before suddenly shooting into them. The eyes glowed red with unnatural life, they shifted and turned, scanning their surroundings. The bone began to sizzle and crack, like a log in a roaring fire, turning black like soot. Without warning, my words ceased to echo through the alley, the air became crisp and clear, the sick smoke dissipated, and the surrounding plants were full of life once more. A pile of ash was left where the bone once laid, no hint of life was left in the eyes, and the preserved fish was deflated and leathery. 

I picked up the compass, the needle spun wildly until finally stopping, pointing in a direction other than north. It will point me to Marcus. 

UNFAIR i can’t get below 100 and i just added 10 more. i need help.