The Beginning of The Sea
Before, the world saw much of the luscious, green plant life, the fragile sands, and the soil from which the plants became. Each element of land and pony was guarded and kept in order by one special Alicorn, gifted with such a responsibility. Everything was once in perfect harmony, until a fierce battle set the order of the world out of balance. Out of the many Alicorns that ruled over the land and its inhabitants, only two of these Alicorns survived, The Alicorn of the Skies and The Alicorn of the Seas. The Alicorn of the Skies and his army had the power of the climate and weather to their advantage, and as for the Alicorn of the Seas, she remained safe under the ocean's waves. There was not much she could do as her fellow rulers fought up above, except wait for the battle to end. After the battle was won, and the two Alicorns left to rule, they agreed to leave the land to the Alicorn of the Seas, as The Alicorn of the Skies kept to the clouds. The Alicorn of the Skies cared not for what the Alicorn of the Seas did with her part of the world, so she submerged most of it in her Kingdom: The Ocean. Leaving the mortal ponies of the earth to roam their own little islands to call home. Today, they live quiet, peaceful lives. However, threats lurk around every corner of the sea. Those brave enough to venture far into it, could be considered heroes amongst those who aren’t; or perhaps something much, much darker.
Prologue
“Pirates! Pirates approaching from the horizon!” A distressed voice and the furious ringing of a bell fills the ears of every pony in the village. Mares grab their children, guiding them into the safety of their homes; locking themselves in the cellar, attic, or whatever room in which they could feel some sort of sanctuary. High atop a wooden over-watch tower, the bell-ringer continues his cries to the citizens. “Stallions! Ready your weapons! Load the catapults!” Stallions, dressed in their proper, black hunting attire, and with their specially crafted hunting rifles, hide amongst the trees and brush that line the outskirts of the island. Upon setting up the multiple catapults from behind the trees, stallions grasp the ropes with their teeth, tugging them back and tying them to the wooden stake driven into the dry soil. One stallion hurries to the bottom of the over-watch tower with his hoof shielding his eyes from the intense light of the sun. His somewhat long, brown mane blows crazily from the breath of the sea. His dark, gray coat almost blends in well with the blackness of his hunter’s jacket.
“What do you see up there Scope?!” He shouts. Scope, an older stallion, but eyes sharp like a hawk’s. His mane, tail, and goatee are greyed, and stick out amongst his brown coat. He takes his eye away from the eyeglass to see his Captain staring up at him from below.
“Ah, there you are Sharp Shot! I was starting to think you were going to sit this one out!” The stallion atop the tower jokingly mocks.
“Hey! I believe there’s a ‘Captain’ in there somewhere! And are you kidding? After what happened during the last fight, there’s no way I was going to miss out on this one!”
“Ha! Really was some of your best shooting! Say, where is your son at? Could’ve brought him along! Shown him what it’s like!”
“I don’t know about that, he’s still got a lot to learn!”
“Did he at least hit the target this time?!”
“Close! He skimmed the bark of the tree!”
“Hey! That’s progress!”
“Only problem is, that tree was steer clear to the right of the one I actually painted the target on!”
“Gotta give the kid credit! He did ‘hit’ something! Don’t worry Captain, I’m sure he’ll get a feel for it eventually!”
“I’m sure he will, just practice, practice, practice-that’s what he’s gotta do! So how many can you see from up there?!”
“Just two ships!”
“Well, that’s one less than last time.”
“Wait! Make that three! Three ships-no four!”
“How many Scope?!” He asks impatiently. Scope continues to stare through his eyeglass, his eyes lost in disbelief. Sharp Shot groans in frustration from not getting an answer, and climbs up the ladder to the top of the tower. “What’s going on Scope? How many of them are there?”
“. . . See for yourself.” Sharp Shot takes the eyeglass and gazes through it to the horizon of the sea. His heart sinks at the sight of the approaching ships, and he joins Scope in his motionless, fearful gaze. Like a flock of black, migrating birds, the ships approach in an arrow-like formation. “Captain . . . th-there’s too many.”
“Captain!” Several of the stallions below call to the top of the tower. “Captain, what do you see?!”
“. . . There’s seven ships headed our way!” Immediately, the small army of stallions is thrown into a panic, muttering words of discouragement to each other. “Quiet! Everyone settle down!” The group silences, staring up at their Captain. “Indeed, their numbers are great, but that doesn’t mean their victory is ensured! For every pirate aboard those ships, we have a bullet for each and every one of them! There is a reason why they call us the Sharpshooters! There is a reason why other settlements fear us!”
“Yeah. . !” Some cheer.
“There is a reason why our previous battles with sea-mongrels such as these, ended with each and every one of us still standing, while their disgusting, lifeless bodies fell to the ground!”
“Yeah!” More cheer as they listen to the words flow freely out of his mouth as if he came with these same exact words in mind. The pure determination in his eyes, and the symbolic, silver badge he has pinned on the breast of his jacket reminds the stallions below just why he bears the title of ‘Captain’.
“There is a reason, why today should be no different! Today, these scum dare tread on our soil! And we shall show them just why every other pirate before them has fallen!”
They can feel the adrenaline building inside, their fear being pushed aside to make room for bravery. The tension building inside their lungs is released for one last cheer. “Hoorah!”
“So load your weapons, and assume your positions! Let’s show them why you never pick a fight with The Sharpshooters!”
“Yes Captain!” They salute in unison. The group disperses, some managing the loaded catapults, others heading into the brush and behind their makeshift wooden walls dressed in leaves and vines for cover. They ready their rifles, which is one of the last things many pirates have seen besides their pitch black, leather hunter’s jackets. The Sharpshooters wield their custom-made rifles, modified for the upmost accuracy. They lift up their weapons, fitting the curved, wooden stock of the rifle over their shoulder, and fitting the knee of their foreleg into the hard, leather pocket attached to the side of the gun for added stability. They lay the long barrel of their weapons over the wooden wall, eyes fixed through the iron aiming sights.
“You’ll be alright up here Scope. Just try and take out as many as you can. When they get closer, you climb down and get to cover, you hear me?” Asks Sharp Shot.
“Understood, Captain,” says Scope. Sharp Shot slides down the ladder, and his boots smack onto the ground before taking off to find cover of his own. Scope always admired his Captain’s optimism; he hadn’t heard a speech like that in years. However, he’s not too sure if that speech will be enough to keep such optimism alive this time. No matter, he won’t be letting his Captain down, just as he hasn’t ever before. He readies his rifle, and adjusts the knob on his uniquely made scope for the correct distance between him and the ships.
He locks onto the leading ship, scanning the deck for any potential targets. From what he can tell, there appears to be a group of four pirates, gesturing as if arguing with one another. Two stallions and two mares, whose argument seems to be growing more heated with each passing second. One mare, with her white coat, and messy, dark red mane highlighted with black, is shouting directly at the other mare whose well-groomed, violet mane and lightly-shaded purple coat stick out most noticeably amongst the group. The white mare is dressed in very revealing clothing, as opposed to the purple mare who’s dressed in dark, dingy clothing much like the stallions. The two stallions appear to be trying to calm the mare down, but that seems to only infuriate her even further. Seeing his opportunity, Scope grips the priming bar of his rifle with his teeth, pulls it back, which also primes the firing hammer. His crosshairs align right onto the head of the purple mare. By her hat, he believes she must be the Captain, or at least someone high in the ranks. He holds his breath to keep his body and rifle steady, but in the middle of the argument, she is shoved and replaced with the presence of the furious, white mare. However, Scope’s muscles were already relaxing, releasing the bar from the grip of his jaw, and firing his weapon. The recoil from his weapon settles, and he finds the white mare lying on the floor of the deck, as the others quickly tend to her. Scope lowers his weapon to reload, but by the time he gets a new bullet in the chamber and his gun re-aligned, they’ve already dragged the mare off the deck. Judging by the trail of blood, he knows he’s landed a successfully, fatal shot.
With the ships approaching, he can hear the sound of a horn however faintly over the roaring of the ocean. He moves his crosshairs over to the neighboring ships, the pirates on board who have noticed the shot, seem confused and unsure of what to do. Amidst their confusion, Scope primes his rifle, and fires another shot directly into the chest of one of the crew members, dispersing the rest. “Scope! When you’re ready, give me the signal!” Sharp Shot calls to Scope. Scope uses his precious time to take down as many of them as he can, until to the ships are just close enough. Constantly firing and reloading, he watches the bodies of his targets spin and jerk from the sheer power of his rifle, then fall lifelessly to the floor. Scope waves to Sharp Shot, and he turns to the stallions set up near the catapults. “Alright. Ready!” He yells. The stallions each strike a match, alighting the kerosene-coated steel balls nestled in the bucket of the catapults. “Blades at the ready!” The stallions pull out their own little daggers, held just above the restraining rope keeping the catapult locked down. “Release!” The sleek, silver blades saw through the rope, sending tens of flaming balls of metal into the air. Scope watches the spectacle about to befall the enemy ships, for if just one of those fireballs hits one ship, it will cause major damage from the inside out. By the looks of it, more than half of them just may hit their target. Eagerly waiting, Scope instead watches the balls of fire freeze just before they can touch the ships. Baffled, Scope lowers his rifle. “Scope! How many were hit?! . . . Scope?!” Suddenly, Scope watches as the balls of fire are flung right back in their direction.
“Find cover! Everyone find cover!” Scope yells. Confused, Sharp Shot watches Scope wave crazily at them below; and as his head turns to the sky, his eyes are met with the horrible, fiery return of their catapult ammo.
“Run!” Sharp Shot shouts to his team, but not in time to save them from the rain of fire. The metal balls bash and destroy rows of trees, only to light and spread the fire to the rest of the woods. The stallions jump and dive to avoid the flaming balls, as well as the falling trees. “Scope! Scope, how close are they?!”
“They’re just about ready to anchor!” Scope shouts.
“Everyone! Head back and find new cover! Scope! Get down from there and follow us!” Scope climbs down the ladder, and regroups with everyone further away from the edge of the island. “Alright everyone, line up and ready your weapons! Once the first pirate shows their face, do not hesitate!” Their rifles point towards the destroyed, flaming woods, and they all clench the priming bars of their weapons with their teeth. Sharp Shot glances to the left and right of his fellow teammates, as they all sweat and breathe with anxiety. He rests his hoof on the shoulder of the nearest stallion, nodding their heads with a glance.
Something emerges from the smoke, between the charred trees. The purple mare, with the brim of her Captain’s hat hiding her eyes. From the looks of it, she appears to be the only one. He is puzzled how no one has fired yet, then again, he even finds himself unable to release the bar from his mouth. It feels strange, but nonetheless, Sharp Shot is ready to take advantage of this. “Fire!” He commands. At once, their ammo whizzes through the air; but they bounce right off of the air surrounding the mare, ricocheting as if they were shooting invisible metal. Their jaws drop, and gasps leave their mouths. They confusedly lower their weapons. The mare tips her hat to show her furious, tear-filled eyes. To her sides, the rest of the pirate crew emerges. Their double-ended blades held in their mouths by the handle, glimmering from the rising flames. The mare glances to the flames, and as she faces forward, eyes piercing right into Sharp Shot’s, the flames begin to move unnaturally. Like snakes, the fire slithers across the ground towards them. “E-Everyone! Spread out and reload! Now!”
They all retreat, some heading to find new cover, others to guard the road into their village. However, they can’t run too far, as the slithering fire crosses paths with any of the stallions that try to run too far. The pirates roar as they charge into battle, with the purple mare leading them. Separated from Scope, Sharp Shot nervously reaches into his pocket for a new round to put into his weapon, as he watches his fellow hunters fight the pirates face to face. With incredible speed, somehow they were able to catch up. They try to fight back with their daggers, but are no match for the pirates’ long, curved blades. The poor stallions caught while reloading, appear to suffer the worst fate. Helplessly, they try to get their weapons ready in time, but are all sliced and gashed before they could even utter a cry for help. Sharp Shot, frozen from the sheer sight of his team being cut down, their blood spilling onto the soil, is something that almost feels like a bad dream. The ones able to take down one pirate, are immediately, brutally slashed by three others. In the midst of the massacre, the purple mare stares straight at him. In a burst of speed, Sharp Shot dashes to the village. With the mare and a few others chasing after him, he is relieved to find other stallions guarding the entrance into the village.
“Captain! Captain, are you alright?!” One of them asks.
“They’re coming!” Sharp Shot yells. As soon as he catches up to them, his heart is beating crazily. “You two, go and alert everyone in the village. I-It’s not safe here. You need to get them to safety, s-somewhere to hide.”
“Right away!” They salute, going off into town.
“The rest of you, find cover, and be ready. I’ll be right with you. We won’t let them lay a hoof on our families!”
“Yes Sir!” They all hide amongst the cottages, with their weapons pointing to the entrance of town, ready to fire at anything that comes by. However, something makes them all shiver with uneasiness. The absolute absence of hoofsteps, shouting, and gunfire. While glaring through the iron sights of their rifles, they see something fly out of the smoke and into the air. A flaming, uprooted tree heading right for them.
“Look out!” Sharp Shot yells to his team. Trotting out of the way, the tree falls and decimates one of the nearby cottages. Soon, more of these flaming trees rise up into the air, and the mare and her crew approach the entrance to their village.
“Captain, what do we do?! . . . Captain?!”
“Run! Find your families and run!” On his command, he and his remaining team flee into the village, as the trees destroy more and more of their town, spreading the flames. Dashing down the path, they halt at an unbelievable sight. The two stallions Sharp Shot sent to assist the townsponies, lying on the ground in a puddle of their own blood, and a small group of the pirate crew looming over them. They had managed to scrounge up some of the wives and children, but now they stare into the eyes of the pirates before them. They point their blades at them, and in an explosion of fury, Sharp Shot shouts to them. “Hey!” He raises his weapon, aiming right for one of their heads; and just before he can discharge his rifle, a reddish glow forms around it. His gun jerks, forcing him to fall flat on his back as the pirates laugh. He scrambles to his hooves, and sees the purple mare approaching from behind.
“Well now, don’t you worry about a thing everyone.” One of the pirates begins in such a fake tone it makes Sharp Shot grind his teeth with anger. “We promise we ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
“You monsters!” One mare declares.
“Listen sweetheart, we ain’t monsters, we’re just doin’ what we have to do.”
“Killing innocent ponies?! You’ll pay for this! All of you!” The mare screams, finishing it off with a spit right into the pirate’s face. Smirking, he wipes it from his already dirty face.
“You know what lady? You are really starting to annoy me.” He slashes her across her chest, letting her sprawl onto the ground as her white dress soaks in blood. The rest of the crowd gasps in horror, and the children wine and cry.
“No! Stop!” Sharp Shot cries.
“And you! Just lookin’ at you makes me want to do the same thing to you! Or maybe . . . you’ve got some family of your own I could take care of?”
“No . . . No you leave my family out of this.”
“Just which one ‘a these cottages is yours eh? Ah, don’t worry ‘bout it, we’ll just torch it all down anyway.” He chuckles. Sharp Shot, with only one thing running through his mind, launches at full speed to his cottage. “You better run far! ‘Cause if I catch ya! It won’t be pretty!” Just as the pirate starts to chase after him, the purple mare holds out her hoof.
“No, I’ll go.” She mutters.
The pirate stops, looking at her in surprise. “Well, I guess this Captain’s got some backbone after all! He’s all yours, Captain.”
The mare heads in the direction in which Sharp Shot galloped, and just down a dirt road, she catches sight of him bursting through the door to a cottage. Brimming with rage, she approaches the cottage, and with her ear to the door, she can hear voices. The woods steps below her hooves creak, and the voices suddenly stop. Knowing she’s alerted who’s inside to her presence, she kicks the door, sending it flying open and the screws holding the door’s hinges together shooting through the air. Sharp Shot tries to ready his rifle, but the same reddish hue suddenly encompasses it, and it is ripped out from his foreleg and into the opposite side of the living room. The mare charges into him, forcing him to slam into the wall behind him, and sending framed photos to fall and shatter over the round rug in the middle of the room. Strangling him by pressing her foreleg onto his neck, he manages to kick her in the stomach, allowing him some space to coordinate his next move. He glances over at his rifle, knowing that the bullet is still loaded inside. He makes a dash for it, but the mare tackles him, sending them both wrestling on the floor. Sharp Shot gets one jab with his hoof across the mare’s face, sending her Captain’s hat off her head.
While she’s dazed, he jumps to his hooves ready to give her one good, swift kick, but instead stands stunned. The mare lifts her head as her long, violet bangs, highlighted with stripes of pink and red, droop over her forehead. “Y-You’re . . . a unicorn?” Sharp Shot asks. Infuriated, the mare’s horn glows the same reddish hue, and a double ended blade is drawn from its sheathe she has hanging at her side. The handle of the blade is brought to and held in her mouth, as Sharp Shot then draws his dagger. The mare lunges at him, as the both of them take part in a series of slashes, dodges, and clanging of their blades. The mare stops and hops back with her body still posed as if waiting for him to attack, but Sharp Shot knows better than to fulfill her want.
As he waits for her to make the next move, he notices that her horn has begun glowing again, but he is unsure of what exactly she’s doing. While he ponders about just what her strategy is, he loses balance, and falls onto his back. The round rug from the middle of the room is levitating in the air above him with the reddish hue casted around it. Realizing how she must’ve pulled it out from under him, it’s too late for him to react. She drives one of the ends of her weapon into Sharp Shot’s chest, causing him to grunt in pain. The mare backs away, leaving her blade in his chest as he fights to breathe, helplessly and spontaneously moving his fore and hind legs. Blood leaks from the side of his mouth as he turns his head away from the mare. The reddish hue forms around his rifle that was tossed away, and is brought over to the mare’s foreleg, getting the weapon ready and aimed right down to Sharp Shot’s head. She grips and pulls back on the priming bar, shuts her eyes, and fires a bullet straight into the side of his head.
She opens her eyes to Sharp Shot’s lifeless, bloodied body. She drops the rifle to the floor, and yanks her blade out from Sharp Shot’s chest before quickly storming out of the cottage, leaving behind the horrific act she had committed.
Chapter 1: Runaway
Surrounded by the dazed and plastered stallions at the local tavern, glasses of alcohol being guzzled followed by their cheers for the next round, one stallion fixes his glasses as he’s been hunched over staring into his empty glass. His ears are being filled with the upbeat music from the violin and flute playing off in the corner of the tavern as stallions stomp their hooves to the music. He can feel the effects of the alcohol effecting him heavily, hoping it can relieve him of his thoughts on this sleepless night. A drunk stallion passing by, bumps into his side, spilling some of his drink onto his high quality, navy blue coat. He turns to give the stallion an annoyed glare, but he’s too occupied with his fellow bar mates to notice him. “Well now, will you be havin’ another round?” Asks the bartender in his black, unbuttoned vest as he cleans out a glass with a white dishcloth.
“Yeah I’ll . . . yeah,” says the stallion.
“Alright then, but . . . are you sure?”
“W-What do you mean?”
“I mean, normally I’m not one to deny a stallion his drink, but come on kid, I think you’ve probably had more than enough for tonight.”
“I’m no kid.” He slides the empty glass over across the counter to the bartender’s hoof.
“Listen, I mean no disrespect—”
“Why are you worried about ‘disrespecting’ me huh?!” The stallion fumes. “It’s all because of my parents isn’t it?”
“Hey, hey settle down. I’m just sayin’. Do your parents even know you come down here?”
“. . . No. And I don’t plan on telling ‘em.”
“And you don’t have to, but you may want to limit yourself pal. I don’t want to be responsible for any accidents or trouble you might get yourself in.” As the bartender fills his glass, the stallion looks down at the shiny countertop at his own reflection. He looks at his white coat and messy, short, brown mane, realizing he hasn’t had enough alcohol yet to get rid of the shame he can feel lingering in the back of his mind. Frustrated, he loosens the grip his white fluffy tie has around his neck. “Here you go, Master—”
“Don’t—! Don’t call me that.” The stallion quickly interrupts with his hoof pointed at the bartender as he’s about to give him his refilled glass. “I don’t want to be called that anymore.” He then gulps down some of his drink.
“What do you say we call that the last one, eh?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Look pal, like I said before, I don’t—”
“Hey, if something happens to me, then that’s my fault. I don’t care about what my parents’ll do. Can’t be any worse than the things they’ve already done. So just . . . don’t worry about it.” Just the stallion continues to drink, a dish smashes against the back of his head. Shards of the white ceramic plate fall and bounce onto the tiled floor. He turns to see the stallion, dressed in a green vest and brown shirt underneath, with an almost comically long, pointed beard laughing whilst returning to his friends.
“I can’t believe you actually did it!” One of his friends says astonishingly.
“You see? I told you he wouldn’t do anything!” The thug celebrates.
“But, aren’t afraid of what his parents might do if—”
“He ain’t gonna tell ‘em, ‘cause if he does, I’ll make him regret it.” He threatens, loud enough purposefully so the stallion can hear. Boiling to the brim with anger, he slams his hooves onto the countertop.
“Hey!” He shouts at the top of his lungs. Turning and hopping out from the stool, he storms over to the stallions who’ve been mocking him. Just mere inches away from the thug who smashed the plate over his head, he finds himself looking down at him, but despite his size, the thug still patiently waits with a smirk.
“Well? Are you gonna do something? Or do you think that just because you’re tall, means I’m supposed to be afraid?” The thug asks.
“Hey, pal, why don’t you come and sit back down?” The bartender asks.
“I told you to not worry.” The stallion reiterates to the bartender.
“Maybe he’s right, you ought to just sit back down, and stay silent like you should be. I don’t care how ‘royal’ your parents are, I’ll gladly beat you down to the ground.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Be careful what you say, I’m trying to give you a fair warning here.”
“I don’t think I deserve a warning, I think I deserve an apology.” Upon hearing the stallion’s request, the thug’s friends laugh.
“Well, maybe I should show you why you’re wrong.” The thug removes and tosses aside his vest.
"Well, buddy, all you've shown me is how you don't know what you're doing with that beard of yours-because it looks like you just glued it on yesterday!"
"So, you think you can insult me now? I'm not sure that's such a good idea."
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“What a shame, that could’ve saved you from my hooves bashing your face in.”
“I’ve faced far worse than you!” The stallion, anxiety building and voice growing louder.
“Yeah? Oh, I bet you have,” says the thug sarcastically. He cracks his neck from side to side, readying his hoof for a punch.
“I-I’m a pirate!” At the mention of the word, the music in the tavern comes to a halt as well as the celebrating stallions to listen in on the argument.
“You? A pirate? Ha!”
“That’s right! And I’ve faced much more terrifying things at sea than some stallion like you!”
“That’s got to be the biggest bluff I’ve ever heard!”
“It’s no bluff! Why do you think that whenever my parents are busy giving their speeches to the town, I’m never around? Why do they constantly ask ponies where I’m at? It’s because I’m out there, at sea!” Murmurs and whispers fill the tavern, and the thug seems to have recoiled his hoof.
“He’s got to be bluffing!” One of the thug’s friends announces. “Just shut him up!”
“Bluff or not . . . I don’t think it’s worth taking the chance,” says the thug as he steps away from the stallion. Putting back on his vest, he slowly turns to his friends with his glare lingering on the stallion. “This isn’t over kid. Next time we meet, I don’t care if the story you’re telling is true or not, I’ll be ready.” They all leave, disappearing into the crowd as the music starts to pick back up. The stallion, with his heartbeat settling back down, retakes his seat at the counter.
“You’re lucky you got away with that,” says the bartender. “If I were you, I’d be careful about the stories you tell, and to whom you tell them to.”
“I'm not worried about that. You should be worried about who 'you' talk to like a child."
"You know what, fine, I'm done trying to help you. If I catch you trying to make trouble again, I'm kicking you out of here." The bartender warns. He leaves the stallion to continue gulping down his drink without a single drop of remorse for his bad-mouthing to the bartender.
"Hey! Excuse me?" A highly-pitched, feminine voice asks from behind him. A bright pink mare with a darker, fluffy mane, and white tee striped with blue, hops onto the stool beside the stallion. "I couldn't help but hear that you're a 'pirate'!" She says, spinning around on the stool.
"Why . . . yes!" He says, eyes following the mare's as she continues to spin. "Hey . . . would . . . stop!" The stallion, now becoming dizzy.
"Oops! Sorry!" She giggles. "So, if you're a pirate, then maybe you could help me."
"Me? W-Why do you want 'my' help?"
"Because you said you've sailed the sea! If you've sailed the sea, then you have a boat, and if you have a boat, then you could help me find who I'm looking for!"
"Well . . . I-I don't care who you're looking for. Just go away."
"B-B-But, please?" The mare's lip quivers. "I've tried asking for help from other ponies, but--" she chokes, "but none of them would help me! And-And I'm trying to find my sister who went missing! I don't know where she is-and I miss her!" Listening to her cries, the stallion tries to ignore her by continuing to drink, but one glance at her big, desperate eyes and frown makes his heart burst. "W-With how dangerous it is out there on the sea, I can't bear to imagine what may have happened, or be happening to my sister right now. My parents don't know what to do, so I thought I could find some way to do something about it." The mare lowers her head as her ears droop down. "I just thought that . . . with how brave you sounded, maybe you could take me out to the sea to help me find her. But . . . it's not you're problem. I'll just go and--" The mare gloomily prepares to leave, but not before the stallion hops out from his seat.
"Wait!" He shouts as the mare turns back around. "What's your name?"
"Pinkie Pie."
"Hello, Pinkie Pie. My name's Zarim. L-Look just . . . go and wait over at the port, and I'll meet you there with my boat."
"What?! Really?!" She asks as her ears fly up. "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You don't know how much this means to me!"
"Yeah, yeah sure. D-Don't worry about it. I'll just, uh, go get my boat, and I'll meet you there!" With a nervous smile, he dashes out of the bar.
"Oh! I don't believe it! This. Is. Incredible!" Pinkie Pie celebrates.
Zarim trots down the streets, approaching the tall mansion that sits on the very end of town, which is also at the edge of the island. Considering it's nighttime, Zarim enters his home carefully and quietly as not to disturb his family. It's not like he's happy to be back, but glad he's out of the mess he had almost been caught up in. Taking in a deep breath, he walks to his bedroom with every hoofstep echoing through the halls. The white walls are decorated with painted roses and green vines. Priceless vases and other such sculptures rest atop cement pedestals strewn about the mansion. Barely climbing up the set of spiraling stairs, stumbling about from the alcohol, he comes to his sister's bedroom, of which the door is left ajar. He peeks inside to see his younger sister laying bed, sound asleep. So peaceful, yet it's her peacefulness that stirs up his emotions.
"You know," he whispers. "If I were the unicorn, and you were the earth pony, I'd be the one sleeping in such a nice room instead of the attic." Zarim finishes his ascent to the attic, of which the wood has been left unpainted. His height is the major drawback, as his head nearly touches the ceiling. His walls are lined with shelves cluttered with books of all sorts, but mainly, the tales of the sea. The local library is the other place he sought refuge from his so-called 'home'. Searching the shelves for a new book to peak his interest, and take it with him to add to the collection. Tales of sailing and the creatures that roam the sea, of course as far as the ponies of the island are concerned, those are merely nothing but fiction. However, a book isn't going to calm his nerves this time. He throws himself onto his bed, which is no thicker than his own body. From the head of his bed, he stares out the small hexagonal window to the family boat resting at the private harbor. The longer he stares, the harder it is to rid his mind of the pink mare from the tavern. Remembering those big, sad eyes of hers, and her pleading for his assistance. Then, how her face lit back up once he gave in.
'What am I supposed to do?' He asks himself. 'I can't keep this pirate story up. Besides, in the end, what would I get from this? Leave this island, headed to who knows where? Away from this place and my family, being something I was told I never could be, starting anew and leaving my old life behind . . . sounds like a dream come true.' Zarim hops out of his bed, grabs a cloth bag from the corner of his room, and scans his shelves for one specific book. His hoof crosses over the spine of 'Captain Blackhoof, and The Legend of The Sparkling Water', a tale that has stuck in his head since the first day he read it. He drops the book into the bag, and climbs down from the attic by opening the hatch door and down the steps. He continues to rush down and into the kitchen, filling his bag with a wide assortment of fruits, cheeses, and bread. Just as he feels he's gotten all that he needs, he comes across a door with a plaque nailed above it that reads: Antique Room. Knowing what lies inside, he goes in and finds the walls lined with ancient weaponry. Against the walls are glass cases filled with all sorts of jewelry and ceramics. He's only been in this room a couple of times in his childhood, and there's one weapon in particular he remember seeing that caught his eye. "Ah, there you are." He whispers, as his eyes gaze up at the weapon hanging on the wall. A single-bladed sword, whose blade is long, wide, and most notably, so pristine that it acts like a mirror. The grip is wrapped in strands of leather, and the pommel is a large, half-circle shape embedded with a blue, oval gem. Zarim pulls the sword off the wall, slipping it safely in the wooden sheathe that was hanging next to it. With the sword strapped around his waist, he trots out of the mansion and onto the dock of the family harbor. He gazes at the great, white boat, and without a moment of hesitation, climbs aboard and unties the rope keeping the ship docked. He scrambles over to a large metal crank, turning it to hoist up the anchor. Untying the sails, the wind already begins to guide it out and away from the dock. He sets his bag of food down, grabbing hold of the wheel.
At the town port, Pinkie Pie sits at the edge of the dock with her hooves under her chin to keep her head up. Patiently waiting for Zarim to return just as he said, the waters have been empty, crushing Pinkie’s once hopeful heart. It’s clear to her now that there’s no point in waiting any longer, as she’s been here ever since Zarim left the tavern. Just another lie to keep her quiet, just like the others she had pleaded to. Getting to her hooves, she wonders just how she’ll ever find her sister, or if anypony will ever be willing to assist her in her search. Just as she turns away, she listens to the water begin to stir. Glancing back, she sees something out in the distance, a boat heading right for the docks. With Zarim at the helm, he waves to her once the boat comes closer. In an explosion of excitement and joy, Pinkie Pie jumps around the dock, shouting loudly without a care. “He’s here! He’s here! Zarim!” She screams. Once aligned with the dock, Zarim hurries to adjust the sails to slow the boat down.
“Heads up!” Zarim shouts as he tosses down a rope ladder off the side of the boat, of which Pinkie Pie hurriedly climbs aboard.
“Woah. ‘This’ is your boat?!”
“That’s right. I told you I’d show up.”
“Well what are we waiting for?! Let’s shove off!” She happily exclaims, proceeding to explore the deck of the boat. Readjusting the sails, and retaking control of the wheel, Zarim’s heart beats crazily as his boat leaves the island. Occasionally glancing back to watch the island shrink in the distance, he turns back to face the wide open sea, taking in a deep breath of the cool, nightly air.
