A Scoundrel's Story

The group had been chasing what was left of their victims for hours now- their targets had been driven back into the storm, the Brigantine they were sailing having taken heavy damage from the Avarice's cannons. Amongst the pirates was a tall red stallion, his face obscured by a hood and a scarf across his face. He observed his target with growing desperation, it having dawned on him that they hadn't been dealt with quite quickly enough. The trackers the navy had sent were perhaps a couple days behind them and they needed rest if they were to survive both taking their prize and dealing with their pursuers.

The storm grew louder and the Captain realized his voice could not be muffled if he was to communicate properly. He removed the scarf, revealing a young, freckled face, but a pair of green eyes that did not match, which revealed the fortitude and experience of one far beyond his years. ''Foremast, douse the tarp sails! Change due north or we'll broach!'' He barked. It proved a wise command, as the vessel's stability was becoming harder to manage. Up ahead, their quarry was faring even worse, the holes in their draught causing them to haul in.

''Starboard guns!'' ordered the stallion, realizing now was his best opportunity. The Avarice fired all she had on her right side, striking a critical blow onto the other vessel's bow. The unfortunate ship began diving downwards, slowly but surely going under. The sailors on board, more concerned for their lives than the cargo the pirates were after, struck their colours as clearly as they could.

''That was real nice of them. You're gonna be gentle, right? They're just merchants after all,''the part of him still wanting to keep his innocence sighed, already knowing the answer.

A little too keen to finish his job however, the Captain waited for the first opening in the tall waves and ordered full speed ahead. He knew he had to demonstrate a certain bloodlust as a matter of routine at this point; his foes were not so prepared for combat as the military were but he had dealt with one too many disobedient captives to risk accepting a surrender without making sure every mare and stallion defending his prize was absolutely terrified of him; the unfortunate truth was that cruelty became almost a virtue in such circumstances.

Aware of their vulnerability but having accepted the risk, he assigned half his men to prepare to board, a fair few abandoning their posts in order to do so.

Needing little support, the pirate captain led the charge. As his men threw hooks aboard their target, the captain drew his sword and using the smoke from the smouldering ship to obscure view, he leapt aboard his chosen part of the ship and seized hold of the first stallion who was unlucky enough to be within distance. He attacked his throat and eyes with a massive forehoof- the sailor began flailing about as his sight and breathing were both obstructed. Drawing his victim's two front feet up, the pirate seized his mane in his mouth and wrenched his head hard against the side of the ship's mast. The merchant sailor fell to the floor, mouth ajar, one eye open and bleeding from his temple.

Preoccupied with repelling the other pirates, the next stallion he found didn't even see his death coming. The captain drew his sword once across the victim's back between the shoulder blades, then stabbed up into his kidney. The sailor let out a wheeze and a slight cry and fell dead to the floor in an instant.

Several others had noticed him by now and set upon him. As one ran at him, sword drawn, he gracefully deflected the attack and drew his attacker's arm outwards. His enemy lost balance and went down, his hoof not managing to save his throat from landing on the captain's hilt. Just to be sure he'd done the job properly, the red stallion then slashed his victim's throat and threw his body to the side.

Put off by the display, the next challenger backpedalled. Familiar by now with this movement, the pirate stepped forward swiftly, feigning an attack. The target raised his sword upwards; it was then driven further upwards and the stallion received a sharp red foreleg to the ribs. The pirate made a move for the face but stopped when a deflecting sword came to meet his attack- the stronger of the two stallions and possessing the better weapon however, the pirate easily knocked it away, exposing his target fully. The pony was killed instantly as a sword was driven up and into his heart.

Having realized they could not address both this beast and his fellows, the section of the ship closest to the captain threw their weapons to the ground and raised their arms. The rest of the ship promptly either surrendered or were killed fighting the incoming horde. The pirates gave a cheer. In a rough baritone, the captain declared his victory over the merchant ship:

''Gentlecolts. Today we intend to claim your ship and all you own. If you all comply, nopony will be harmed. Any objections?'' ''Wow, the charisma. Hoofbeard himself would be jealous''.

''BIG MCINTOSH!'' a voice boomed out suddenly, clear despite the weather. Alarmed, the pirates looked about frantically for the source of their new foe. The Captain recognized it, however, and looked up to find what he'd expected: a dark blue alicorn hovering above with a menacing look on her face.

''Shit, it was a trap. Clever girl''.

A magical aura surrounded the ship and while the remaining merchant crew were protected, strong magic levitated the pirates on board from the deck into the sea- from which they had nowhere to escape to, as the alicorn then enveloped the Avarice and sunk her.

''And now you're screwed. This turned ugly quick enough''. Shut up, the commentary isn't helping.

The desperate stallion drew his pistol and took aim; his dragonscale protection would not allow magic to strike him but without his crew he was heavily outnumbered. The odds had shifted well against him now. This was further proven true by a sudden sharp pain across his back- a rainbow- colored jolt passed by as he stumbled. Before he could recover, three pegasi were upon him, pinning him in various places across his body. The three combined proved too much and he was held on the ground.

Having become all too familiar with his reputation, his captors were taking no chances it seemed, as he felt his weapons and clothing stripped from him. His dragon scale having been discovered and removed, a profound but female voice from behind him observantly pointed out: ''You should be clear to handle him yourself now, Princess Luna.''

''Thank you, Captain''. An aura took him and he felt himself held in place. No longer needed, his captors released him. ''The fearsome Captain Mac finally meets his end-'' seriously, all you're doing is being an anti-climax dude.

The triumphant princess landed on the deck of the ship, holding it firmly in place with impressive magical force. She stared in his eyes with a terrible conviction that would have turned any mere stallion to stone. He mostly felt resignation now however, prepared as best as one could be for the fate he long knew would befall him eventually.

''You are supposed to be the devil himself like you keep telling folk, remember? Can't show fear to anypony,'' he told himself sardonically.

''Big McIntosh, we have apprehended you in response to multiple charges of theft, murder, piracy and treason,'' she spoke with such venom, as four pegasi in flight suits landed on the deck behind him to accompany the medical response teams arriving to tend to any remaining survivors.

''Let us assure you: had we not received an impassioned plea from your sister, your family and their friends, we would have thrown you into the sea to drown like the other vermin. As it is, you face imprisonment for the rest of your life and the eternity of anything that comes after that. Have you anything to say?''

''Um. Could you maybe just send me to my room without dinner instead?'' This is something serious here. Stop clouding my thoughts. ''Oh but you'd be miserable if I did that''.

This newest revelation didn't come as particularly welcome to him- he'd wanted death to be the final consequence of his actions, remembrance as a figure of infamy, for it to have been considered of the greatest glory possible for the one who'd achieved it. Not to be thrown into a cage living without freedom, one of his most basic needs.

''Pride is a sin, stop being so full of yourself,''

The stallion did not allow himself to betray his feelings to his opponent however and kept a cold, indifferent look on his face. ''Well played,'' he commended her.