Ropes that Bind

     The Salt Lick Tavern was busy tonight, very busy for a island in the middle of the North-Eastern Equestrian Sea. Many mugs of alcoholic cider and rum were displayed in the forms ranging from small marks on fur or clothing to the not so subtle " smeared all over my drunken face" look that many stallions wore tonight.

    " Ay, lads we've got us ah old-chap walking in, ha ha ha. Lets give him a 'warm welcome' shall we?", shouted a grey stallion near the door entrance. And as if on cue, walking in a slow limp, was this old stallion. He wore a hat of something familiar to the group, but as drunk and joyful as they were they continued on the old-timer.

   " Oi lookie here lads, guy thinks he's a cap'in now.", the same stallion shouted to the bar. He placed his hoof on the back of the stallion, and was surprised at the speed of the senior. Placing his hind hoof below the grey drunk, he shot up and kicked the colt through a nearby table. Removing his cloak, his flanks revealed twin blades with a skull in-between them.

   Taverns never got as quiet as this one now.

   " Next colt who does that will be hung from the mast of my ship", shouted the brown coated stallion.

   " Sir, Captain Ropes isn't it, would you mind NOT killing my drinkers?", the bartender, Golden Taste, said bluntly.

   " Depends, how many mares will you force on me, or do I get to pick this time?"

   " Why don't you ask them yourself, Lover-boy? You got balls now use them"

   " But I haven't shared my tale with you lads, or is me enough to make your pride and courage shrink to the size of a musket ball?"

   " Oi! Alright, lets have a'listen then", Golden said with a smirk on his face.