Journey of the Disbandits: The Whispering Conch

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.