One Last Quest

by A Fox in Equestria

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Comedy, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 1860

The hero of Albion is setting out for one last quest: Whether she likes it or not.

The Hero of Albion, long since retired into piracy, is living life as only someone like her could: On a beautiful ship weighed down by a huge pile of gold. She managed to leave her old life behind, something most Hero's never get a chance to do, but when the voice of an immortal fortune-teller whispers to her in her sleep, she will have to cut her retirement short and embark on one last quest…

Whether she likes it or not.

(Fable 2 crossover. Any and all constructive criticism is welcome.)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-25 13:36:35 UTC

A Drink for a Story

The Last Quest

By: A Fox in Equestria

~A Drink for a Story~

You want a story? Of course you do, that's why you bought me a drink. Yay! Banana Juice! My favorite! Thanks pal, but a word of warning, if you're trying to get into my pants; I will kill you. You're not? Good. They wouldn't fit you anyway.

What? The story? Oh yeah! I've got one I think you'll love... No, it's not about balverines, although there is a lot of fur. This story is about magical talking ponies!

...

Wipe that stupid look off your face or I'll do it myself. Yes, I'm telling the truth, and you're going to sit down and listen to it. You  bought a drink for a lady and asked for a story, so you're getting one.

Alright, I am aware my reputation reaches far and wide, but i'll give you the benefit of the doubt and introduce myself anyway. My name is Captain Sparrow. I command the Marianne, a famous pirate ship that used to belong to the infamous Captain Dread. My crew and I spend our days doing whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want, and there's nobody out there who can stop us... Or at least that's what I thought, but I'll get to that part in a second. Before I was a captain I was actually a Hero. An adventurer of sorts. Technically I still am, it being more of a gene than a profession and all. You can thank me for bringing down the Mad King Lucien, along with a lot of other dangerous folk. You might also hear that I do some less than moral things, so let me clear the air just in case: Anything you've heard about me doing, I've probably done worse.

Okay! Now that introductions are settled, back to the story! Although, you could say that it's less of an story and more of a shitstorm. And it started just like most shitstorm's usually start for me: With an immortal witch talking to me in a dream.

"Wake up, Little Sparrow."

"Fuck off."

Don't get me wrong: I love Mom, but I was not in the mood for a quest. And whenever she speaks to me, that usually means she's about to give me one. Not to mention it had been nearly three years without so much as a "Hey Sparrow, how have you been? I've been doing well myself, the Spire has made a really good replacement for that old stick in my ass."

You're lost? Heh, sorry. Let's just say there's this immortal farseer who can project her voice into my head through a magical door key. I love her, though, no matter how many times she's almost gotten me killed.

...

I told you not to look at me like that.

Anyways, I was asleep in my captain's cabin aboard the Marianne when Mom decided she'd give me a wake-up call. I was not amused: she had just interrupted my dream about finally ridding the world of the bunny menace, right before I shot the last furry demon!

"My apologies, dear, I just thought you'd like a warning about the *mortal threat** approaching your ship."* Theresa said. Her sarcasm was so strong I could feel her little Fortune Teller Smirk™ all the way from my ship.

I opened my eye to see the dark mahogany of my cabins ceiling staring back at me. Yawning, I started to get out of bed, "The approaching danger can go sit on a broadsword and spin. Why haven't you called? I never went back to The Spire like you asked, but I expected you to at least remind me you're alive once in a while! Hell, a postcard would have worked, but no, you went all 'Cryptic Gypsy Woman' and abandoned me! What gives? And what, for that matter, is so important that you had to call me in the middle of the night?" I mentally scolded her.

"All in due time, Sparrow, But you need to get prepared immediately. There is something powerful coming for you. That's all I know right now." she explained urgently.

I sighed, "Alright, alright, but I expect answers later."

Walking over to my wardrobe, I put on an old white paupers shirt, belted trousers, some thick gloves and finally a pair of old, worn boots. Then I looked into my mirror. A pale, beautiful face, set with a ruby red eye and an eye patch looked back at me. After adjusting my eye patch and brushing through my long, black hair I kissed the mirror and threw on my patchy, brown overcoat.

"Sparrow, I would not dally. The force coming towards you is only gaining speed."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." I said as I walked over the door, grabbing my Master Turret Pistol, Blunderbuss, Cutlass and my pirate hat as I went. After I put my hat on and stowed all my weapons except my pistol, I promptly kicked the door open, shot the alarm bell, and yelled as loud as I could,

"ALL HANDS ON DECK! WE ARE AT DREADCON ONE! I REPEAT: WE ARE AT DREADCON ONE!"

For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, all of a sudden, burly pirate men burst out of the ship's every orifice, swearing and swinging their weapons around as to fend off an invader. Most were still in their pajamas, that didn't stop them from being terrifying, though. After about a minute of yelling and trying to look as scary as possible, they realized there was no immediate threat, then all eyes turned to me.

"Alright everybody, " I started, "the voice in my head is telling me we will soon be in grave danger. I want everybody at their stations and on high alert, and- Where the hell is Salty Jack!?"

"HMM! Oh my, what's errybody up an around fer?" I heard a gravelly voice grumble loudly from above.

Looking up, I saw Salty Jack's legs hanging out of the main mast's lookout perch, "Salty! Get down here and man the tiller, you old geezer!" I yelled.

Ahhhh, Salty Jack. One of my best friends, and the reason I got this the Marianne in the first place. When I met him I just thought he was some crazy drunken pirate going on about a ghost captain and an island of gold. Turns out he was telling the truth! So, when his ship got destroyed the day Bloodstone was attacked by Lucien's thugs, I offered the old man a spot on my crew. The rest, as they say, is history.

His old, wrinkled face peeked over the edge of his lookout, "What're ya goin' on about there lassy? What's this danger yer speakin' of?" he yelled as he grabbed a rope and jumped off of his perch, "The only thing dangerous out here is those clouds a few sea miles east o' us, and we're headin' south!"

The former captain landed deftly in front of me, "I know that," I told him, "but trust me on this: The last time the voice spoke to me, we found that totally awesome island full of scary inbreds!." that time wasn't Mom talking to me, but he didn't have to know that.

Salty Jack laughed a boisterous, mirthful laugh that could only come from a man filled to the brim with liquor, "Alright, Captain, but I doubt anythin' could sneak up on us with your furry friend keepin' lookout." he joked before going to his post.

And at that moment there were a few loud, happy barks and a big, black Labrador came bounding up to me.

"Awwww, hey there, Sabre! Anything out of the ordinary?" I asked her as she covered my face in slobber. She barked a few times, her red eyes sparkling with happiness at seeing me, then she ran to the side of the ship and growled in the direction of the storm clouds.

"Ohhhh, that can't be good." I whispered to myself.

The storm cloud had nearly tripled in size and closed a scary amount of distance between us during my conversation with Salty Jack. My crew had seen it long before me and had started preparing for rough sailing, namely tying everything down and stowing away the huge chests of gold held in the brig. The storm was the meanest, nastiest storm I had seen in my three short years of sailing: It swirled and boiled ominously, green lightning crackling within and huge gusts of wind billowed out of it, almost strong enough to knock me off balance. The ocean started to shake in its presence, waves easily as tall as our main mast started cropping up on all sides of us. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't so life-threatening.

If there was ever a moment that I was more grateful to have Salty Jack as a friend, I can't think of it. He had decades more experience than me, and the skill to show for it. He steered the Marianne through the deadly waters with practiced precision while I simply clung to the side of the ship. I'll admit, it probably wasn't the most encouraging thing for my crew, seeing their Captain clinging to the side of the boat, but they knew Jack was definitely more qualified than I.

A few canine yelps, barely audible through the sound of crashing waves and grunting pirates, made its way to my ear. I looked behind me to see my beloved canine companion tumbling all over the deck, unable to get a grasp with her claws. Fear for her safety overtook my fear of death as I saw her slide precariously close to the edge of the ship, so I let go of the strut and set out in a small sprint, struggling to stay upright as the ship rocked violently beneath me while wind and water pelted me.

Another barely audible bark, and I saw Sabre fly over the edge of the ship! Reacting with amazing speed and little forethought, I jumped after her into the huge, swirling deathtrap that was now the ocean. I was already soaked to the bone before I jumped, so that wasn't a problem, but as soon as I hit the water, many more came up.

1: I couldn't see Sabre.

2: The ocean seemed to be actively pulling me under.

3: My ship was quickly sailing out of sight.

As I started to swim in the direction I hoped my dog was in, the current started to work against me. I consider myself a very strong swimmer, but it was like trying to swim through a tornado made of ice-water. The only thing that kept me from going under immediately was years of experience, but even that keep me up for long.

I screamed for my pet with my last lungful of air before I finally gave out, my body getting sucked under the waves. As my vision blurred and my lungs filled with water, I heard my Mother's voice,

Death is not your destiny today, little Sparrow...