Journey of the Disbandits: The Whispering Conch

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.