Fire and Frost: a Tale of Vengance

A mass of ponies stood aboard the creaking deck of the Sacrilegious Saint, all eyes affixed on Captain Powder Burn. Among the sea of faces, Powder Burn spotted a vast array of expressions. There was fear and curiosity and admiration, all things that made him grin. Yet, few and far between as they were, occasional flashes of unhappiness and even poorly-concealed anger, faces that turned his gaze sour.

“Now I know you lot haven’t yet spent all the time drinking and whoring about Outcast Isle,” he put a hoof to his chest, “I myself could do with a few more nights getting my sheath polished if I’m being honest.

“But,” he procured the message from his hammerspace, holding it aloft like a gilded trophy. Once he’d finished with whatever Guard had set out to hunt him, he knew he’d be holding his severed head up in a very similar manner, “it has come to my attention that some low-lifed navy pig’s decided that he’s good enough to take us on! To take us down in the name of justice!” he snarled and spat, “Of civility!”

His wandering eyes caught three faces in the crowd, ghostly as they looked up at him. A mare and two foals. He blinked and they were gone.

“He thinks that he’s got guts and nuts enough to take on the best fucking batch of pirates this era’s ever seen!” he proclaimed, “the best fucking pirates on the best fucking ship under the best fucking captain since Sun Maven himself!

“And I promise you that once we’ve bagged this bastard, once we’ve taught this gelding scoundrel a lesson in who the fuck we are, that we’ll take time to bathe in our glory with all the whores and drinks you could ever dream up!

“But are we gonna stand for this kinda insult!?” he demanded, looking about his assembled crew. He gave a stomp, drawing his dagger with magic and thrusting it skywards, “I say neigh! And you lot!?”

“Neigh!” Slow Match roared, thrusting his smallsword skywards.

“Neigh!” yelled another, and another until a mass of shouts rang out across the water, a mass of weapons thrust skywards. The lookouts aboard the other pirate ships in crescent cove—those that weren’t in drunken slumbers—paid the other ship a glance before returning to drinking, sunbathing, and pleasuring themselves with hoof and horn.

“Then what’re we gonna do!?” Powder Burn cried down to the assembled ponies.

Some of their faces looked confused for a moment, looking about or up at him for the answer. He silently cursed the fact that so many of them were imbeciles.

“Hunt the bastards down and send their ship to the bottom of the sea!” Slow Match roared back.

“Aye!” the assembled crew roared out.

“Then to your stations!” Frostbite called forth, sheathing his weapon as the assembled ponies dispersed, “We’ve got a ship to catch.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“So,” Bonnet began, taking a gulp from her freshened mug as a barmare strutted away from the table, “I want half sometime between now and the morning.”

Frostbite gave her a confused expression and she rolled her eyes.

“Half of the four thousand. I’d love to take you on your word,” she gave him a stomach-fluttering smile, “But the last time I did that...well, I ended up having to kill a pony. Played with him a bit first, of course, one must send a message after all.”

“Two thousand is too much. I will give you a quarter between now and then,” Frostbite countered, “You cannot trust me, but that works both ways. More incentive to fulfill your part of the bargain if you are only getting a quarter of what I am willing to pay...” he considered what she’d said for a moment, “and why the morning?”

“I’m leaving then,” she said simply.

He let a suspicious look cross his features. Bonnet took another gulp of her drink.

“It won’t do for the ponies here to see us leave together,” Bonnet replied, “Word spreads faster than wildfire around here.”

“Then why are we discussing this in such a public place?” Frostbite asked, suddenly wary, “If—”

Bonnet cut him off, “You’re not the first stallion to approach me tonight,” she said, butter eyes flowing over the establishment, “you won’t be the last, no one will be any the wiser.”

“Ah,” Frostbite replied, turning back to her, if reluctantly.

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” she said, “I’d been planning to anyways. In a week I’ll contact you by magic fire with a location to meet up.”

An alarm went off in the back of his head, ‘And that is not suspicious at all...’

“And in this week you will be doing what, exactly?” Frostbite inquired.

“Getting Captain Powder Burn out in the open for you…” she trailed off, “unless you had something in mind?”

“Nothing solid, no,” Frostbite admitted, “So long as you can get him within range of me, I can destroy him.”

“Well then, I’ll get him moving and send you some coordinates to intercept. You can find him, destroy him, take your sweet revenge.”

“And how will I find you afterwards? Unless you are doing this out of the kindness of your heart?”

Bonnet gave a derisive snort of laughter at that, “My heart has no kindness for the likes of you,” she continued, unsmiling and businesslike, “I’ll be within range of sight by the time you begin to engage Captain Powder Burn. Provided you survive, I’ll expect the rest of my pay then,” she paused for a moment, considering as she eyed him over a gulp from her mug, “and we’ll settle on fifteen hundred now, the rest then. Fail to pay the rest and you’ll be in little state to defend yourself against me.”

‘Provided my ship takes sufficient damage,’ Frostbite didn’t say, “Fifteen hundred will do. You’ll have the rest once I have taken Captain Powder Burn.”

Bonnet smiled a pretty smile, pearly teeth flashing, “Well, then, I believe that’s everything?”

“I do believe so,” Frostbite replied, “One week?”

“One week, then you’ll have your letter,” Bonnet replied, lifting her mug to her muzzle, “Now leave, this talk of treachery makes my throat itch.”

Frostbite gave a grunt and stood, leaving the Scarlet Dog and returning to his ship. Broadhead, naked of arms or armor, met him on the darkened deck.

“Things went well,” the lieutenant observed, “the others?”

“Returning in intervals, so as not to arouse suspicion,” Frostbite replied, promptly filling his second in command in on the situation. A few of the others who’d gone with Frostbite had returned by the time he’d finished.

“I smell deceit,” Broadhead said, a small grin crossing his features, “and not just from her. Where do you intend to get the other half of the four thousand bits?”

“From Equestria, once we have Powder Burn properly shackled or hanged,” Frostbite replied, “if I was a betting pony, my money would be on her trying to take us after we defeat Powder Burn,” Frostbite turned his gaze back to the mainland, squinting into the dark, “she thinks we will be weakened by Powder Burn, and a wounded animal is much easier to take. As soon as Powder Burn is ours, we will make our way directly back to Equestria, Bonnet will have to wait for her payment.”

Broadhead gave a nod, “I’ll have the bits brought up, then.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“That’s her, there,” Slow Match pointed out past his spyglass, “Portside of those two sloops, see her?”

Powder Burn scanned over the docks they were closing on, spotting the Vultures’ Delight bobbing off the shore.

“Aye, I see her.”

“Ugly little carrack,” Slow Match commented, he looked to his captain, “Orders?”

“One shore party, if we can’t find him there we’ll board his ship and see if he’s there,” Powder Burn snapped his spyglass shut, “I’ll pick the colts myself, have a longboat readied.”

“Aye, captain,” Slow Match replied.

Powder Burn chose four others to go with him, two pegasi, an earth pony, and another unicorn. Each was only lightly armed, he was here for one pony and didn’t want undue attention.

They rowed ashore under the dark of night, paying the docking fee and moving into town. It wasn’t hard to find the place where he’d be. Captain Slate Sheet had been most interested in meeting Captain Powder Burn to be rewarded for his letter, and had informed them where he was staying.

The earth pony, a massive creature with a braided beard named Split Grain, brought Slate Sheet from the tavern. He’d clearly had a few too many drinks, as his posture and breath both showed.

“Ah! Captain Powder Burn, my good friend! We meet at last!” Slate Sheet greeted.

“I’d suggest you keep your voice down, friend,” Powder Burn replied, “My name’s not much of a welcome one around here.”

“Aye. Aye!” Slate Sheet realized, looking about, “where’s a good place to talk, then?”

“Come,” Powder Burn led the group into the darkness, a grove of trees away from anything. Soft winds swooshed through the night, rustling branches like a careless peeping tom watching down on the group.

“A mite spooky, but it’ll serve, aye,” Slate Sheet observed once they came to a halt by one of the many trees, “You’re looking quite well, captain Powder Burn, how goes the pirate life?”

The other four stood about the two captains, silent and watching. Powder Burn nodded to Split Grain. In an instant the noose was around Slate Sheet’s neck, flung over a branch and pulled taut by the large earth pony. He hoisted Slate Sheet like a child might lift a doll.

Slate Sheet’s eyes bulged wide, legs kicking wildly as the rope pulled tight about his neck. His hind hooves scuffed at the ground as he was held up, flailing at the rope with his forehooves as he choked.

Powder Burn let him hang for a few seconds before ramming a forehoof into the pony’s gut and giving the order of, “Down.”

Split Grain took a few steps forwards, letting Slate Sheet back down. As he touched down, Slate Sheet collapsed into a gasping, coughing mess, curling up to hold his gut.

“Stand!” Powder Burn ordered.

“Wh—” Slate Sheet’s whimper was interrupted by a cough as he looked up to Powder Burn with watery eyes, “What?”

Powder Burn snarled and gave an upwards jerk of his head to Split Grain. The massive earth pony retreated a few steps, the rope taught in his mouth. Again it grew tight around Slate Sheet’s throat, yanking him gagging to his hind legs.

“There, keep him standing,” Powder Burn ordered before Slate Sheet could be pulled off the ground again.

Slate Sheet grabbed hold of the noose with his forehooves, keeping himself from choking as he was held up on his hind legs.

“Y-you s-said I’d be p-paid for helping you!” Slate Sheet dared to stutter as he eyed the other captain fearfully, “R-release me or...or—”

Stepping forth, Powder Burn drew his dagger and pressed the blade to Slate Sheet’s throat with his magic. Slate Sheet’s defiance immediately puddled about his hind hooves in a sudden gush of urine. Powder Burn gave the other captain a disgusted look at the display.

“P-p-please—” Slate Sheet trembled.

Avoiding the stream, Powder Burn rammed the pommel of his dagger up between Slate Sheet’s hind legs. The quaking pony collapsed with a squeal into the embrace of the noose, strangling once more as he tried to curl up and hold his dripping stallionhood.

“Down,” Powder Burn ordered, letting Slate Sheet collapse into his own puddle.

Again Slate Sheet was left gasping for precious oxygen as he held himself, shaking as he looked up to Powder Burn with wide eyes.

“You will be paid, if you answer truthfully,” Powder Burn snarled, letting the dagger spin in his magic, “You were boarded by an Equestrian vessel. Where were you? Why did they board you?”

“I-I was scavenging a wr-wreck,” Slate Sheet blurted out. He got three hooves under him, the fourth still clutching himself, and began to rise.

Powder Burn knocked his forehoof out from under him and pinned him to the ground, pressing his face close to the other pony’s, “No, you get to stay down, tell me from down there. What wreck?”

“S-some merchant vessel!” Slate Sheet whimpered, staying down like an obedient dog, “Th-the Majestic Pride! The one y-you sunk recently! I was scavenging a-and he came out of nowhere and said he was b-boarding my ship, th-that he had questions!”

“And you let him board you,” Powder Burn stated.

“He came out of nowhere!” Slate Sheet screeched, “I swear it! I-I tried to tell him off, but he threatened to attack if I didn’t let him aboard! I would...would’ve run but he was on me faster than I could’ve raised sail and anchor!”

“So you’re a shit captain with a shit crew on a shit ship,” Powder Burn growled, turning to Split Grain, “Up,” he said.

“No! Plea—” Slate Sheet choked as he was hoisted up again, kicking and thrashing, belly damp with his own fear.

“Down.”

“Please! Not again! Anything! I’ll tell you anything!” Slate Sheet sobbed and choked out, laying obediently in his puddle.

“So he boarded you, then what?” Powder Burn ordered.

“I-I led him to a side room where I had two of my colts waiting with bludgeons!” Slate Sheet blubbered as fast as he could, “I thought he was gonna search me and I was gonna knock him out and force them off!”

Powder Burn frowned, “And how the fuck was that supposed to work?”

“I don’t kno-o-o-o-w!” Slate Sheet wailed, “I don’t know, I don’t know, I panicked, it was my best option at the time!”

Powder Burn shook his head, snorting, “and after you fucked that up?”

“He nearly killed me with my own pistol! He thought you’d sent me to kill him! When I told him it wasn’t you, he wanted to know where he could find you!”

“And what did you say?” Powder Burn’s eyes narrowed, his dagger stopping with its point towards Slate Sheet.

“I-I said I thought you might be in Prance,” Slate Sheet replied, eyes darting between the dagger and its wielder, “in-in les Stables-d'Olonne.”

“And why there?” Powder Burn’s voice was ice, in spite of his burning eyes.

“I-I-it-it’s a p-pirate p-p-port,” Slate Sheet stumbled like a half-wit over his words. Powder Burn just stared fire down at him, “he had a pistol to my head!” Slate Sheet shrieked, “He said he’d shoot me if I lied to him!”

“A pistol to your head?” Powder Burn asked. His horn flared as he pulled a pistol from one of his pirates, pressing it right between Slate Sheet’s eyes, “He threatened to shoot you? Like this?”

Slate Sheet’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. His bladder managed another wave of urine, the warm liquid spilling out from beneath his prone form.

“He threatened to shoot you, did he?” Powder Burn continued, “threatened?” Powder Burn gave a short, sour laugh, “Colt, I will fucking shoot you if you give a Navy fuck an honest answer.”

“Please…” Slate Sheet whimpered.

*Boom* roared the pistol as Powder Burn raised it just enough.

Slate Sheet screamed, clutching his one-and-a-half ears. Blood ran quickly down the left side of his head, a good half of his ear torn off by the shot. He continued to cry out as Powder Burn passed the pistol back to its owner, then turned to Split Grain.

“Up, up, up,” he ordered. And Split Grain made it so.

His half ear was ignored as Slate Sheet was lifted above the ground once more, thrashing and kicking the air in a futile effort to escape. His forehooves scrambled against the rope, but found no purchase or knots to untie and free him.

His tongue lolled out, lapping at the air in an obscene attempt to breathe as he spat and gagged against the rope. His eyeballs rolled wildly, seeming likely to pop out of his skull as they bulged outwards.

The kicking slowed, his scrabbling hooves taking longer to claw at the noose. He wet himself again, just a trickle of terror that dripped down one leg that was suddenly only able to clench as he neared the end of his life.

“And down,” Powder Burn ordered.

Slate Sheet hit the ground like a stringless puppet, a long wheeze snaking down his throat and into his lungs. He coughed suddenly, then gasped in another wheeze.

Powder Burn nodded to Split Grain, who dropped the rope, and stepped up to Slate Sheet’s limp form. The limp pony didn’t have enough strength to even flinch as Powder Burn’s breath blew hotly into his good ear.

“Your payment is your life, keep it,” he whispered. Slate Sheet’s eyes rolled towards him, sides rising and falling as he wheezed in more air, “but the next time you help a Navy fuck...this was just foreplay, my little pony, remember that.”

And with that he strode away, his lackeys in tow.