So, this chapter deals with some backstory for our new arrivals. The Pirates 'verse is a little sparse on backstory and characterization, so essentially I'm making everything up as I go along. All I really knew about Montana Mays before writing was that he lost seven ships and women were always chasing after him, so I decided to adress the former aspect first.
Also, before anyone calls me out for historical inaccuracies, in the game the Spanish tend to lean more towards speed and cargo space (makes them great for running gold) but at the expense of firepower (Spanish ships tend to have weaker cannons than comparable factions and lack a few good crew combos). As such, in this story the Spanish fleet has passed its prime and is a mere shadow of its former glory.
Again, I don't own the characters in this fic(save the OCs, but they don't play that big of a role... yet); Hasbro has Ponies, Wizkids has Pirates, and Spain has Spain. Let's just leave it at that.
Chapter 3
It was starting to get dark when they returned to Ponyville. There was a flash and the nine of them were standing outside the library, the six locals acting as not much had happened while the three naval officers stood rigid in fear.
“What’s the matter?” Twilight asked. “Did I use too much power?”
“No, it’s just that I’ve never been… teleported before.” Mays said. “Whirlpools work in a similar way, but not that fast.”
“Oh.”
“So, where does your princess live?”
“Actually… you see, I used up a lot of my magic already, so I need to rest for a day before I can do any more teleporting. Also, I don’t think the Princess would like it if I just showed up without telling her everything.”
“And you’d miss the party I have planned!” Pinkie Pie said before snatching Mays’ hat off his head. “Gotta borrow this; it’s inspirational.” Pinkie ran off.
“Uh…”
“Don’t worry; it’s just Pinkie Pie. If she does something wrong I’m sure Rarity can get you a new hat.”
“Oh yes; I’ve never actually tried making a hat of that design before. Should be quite challenging. But first I have to get started on that ensemble, so I probably won’t see you again ‘till Pinkie’s party.” The white unicorn trotted off into town.
“I should be gettin’ back.” Applejack said. “I promised Big Macintosh that I’d be back before supper, so I could help with some of the last minute harvesting.”
“You own a farm?” Hacksaw asked.
“Yup. Sweet Apple Acres supplies all the apples in this area of Equestria.”
“If possible, could I accompany you to your farm?”
“Sure; it’s always a pleasure to have company.” the farm pony and the medic left the group. Twilight looked at Mays.
“Hacksaw used to be a farmer before becoming a ship’s doctor.” He explained. Twilight looked at him, confused.
“How can somepony switch from being a farmer to a doctor?”
“I’m not really sure.” Rainbow Dash began to break off from the remaining ponies. “And where are you off to?”
“Manehattan’s got too many tall buildings; there’s never enough space to move around. That’s why I like Ponyville: nice open airspace that I can show off all my moves in.”
“What kind of moves?” Smith asked, flying up to be on level with her. Rainbow Dash began explaining while the remaining three ponies focused their attention elsewhere.
“I really should go check on Angel,” Fluttershy said. “I-I don’t mean to be rude or anything by leaving, but he likes to cause trouble sometimes. I’ll see you at the party… if you go, that is, or if you want to be seen, I guess.” Fluttershy headed towards her cabin, leaving Twilight and Mays standing alone outside the library. Twilight looked at the captain.
“You’re willing to come with me if you’d like; I need to send a letter to Princess Celestia, and I’d be willing to show you anything you’d like to know about Equestria, if you’re interested.”
“Believe me, I am; I’m trying to figure out how a society of ponies could work. The only alternative is to go and retrieve my hat, and your friend seems…”
“Try not to describe Pinkie Pie; it’s bad for your mind.” Mays gave a light chuckle and started following Twilight.
“So, where is Princess Celestia?”
“She lives in Canterlot with her sister, Princess Luna. It was that big castle in the mountains you saw when we got here.”
“Ah. Then how is she going to know we’re coming? It’d take a while for a letter to get all the way there.”
“Normally it would, but Spike can send letters to the princess in a few seconds, give or take.”
“Spike? Who’s Spike?”
“Spike’s my assistant. I would have brought him along, but my teleportation spell only works on ponies, and I needed someone to watch the library for me.” Twilight used her magic to open the door and showed Mays in. “Spike, you in here?”
“Up here, Twilight.” Spike called from the loft. The purple and green dragon poked his head over the railing and looked down at the two ponies. “I was just rearranging some of the book up here like you asked… who’s your friend?”
“Oh, this is Montana Mays; he’s a sailor pony from... outside of Equestria. He’s going to be staying here for a bit.”
“Oh.” Spike made his way down the stairs to meet the new pony. “Hi, I’m Spike.”
“Hello Spike. I must say you are much friendlier than most dragons I’ve met.” Mays looked at Spike for a moment. “Smaller too, so I can presume he’s still young.”
“Uh, Twilight? Why is he looking at me like that?”
“Sorry about that; the dragons from where I come from are savage beasts and nowhere near as intelligent as they are here.”
“Spike, I need you to take a letter to the Princess.” Twilight said. Spike nodded and produced a quill and paper seemingly from nowhere. Mays was about to ask how he did that when Twilight started dictating her letter.
“Dear Princess Celestia,
I have returned from Manehattan with some very interesting news: some ponies sailed in on a ship claiming to be from a different world. If they are, I was hoping that you would know of a way to get them back home. I will be arriving in Canterlot tomorrow and I hope that there is a way we can help them
Your Faithful Student,
Twilight Sparkle”
Spike finished writing and rolled the letter into a scroll. He walked over to a window, opened it and breathed some of his fire onto the letter. The letter disintegrated into a mass of green light and flew out the window towards the nearby castle.
“Amazing,” Mays said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You haven’t seen a lot of things, have you?” Twilight asked.
“Well, I have, but your society is nothing like any I’ve seen before; everything seems so… stable.” He turned. “Except for here, that is.” The library was a mess, with books strewn about in no particular order whatsoever. Loose papers covered any empty space that the books did not, and a ridiculously orderly stack of pencils sat in the middle of a nearby table. Twilight blushed.
“Sorry about the mess; I was reorganizing the library again before I left for Manehattan. It should only take me a few minutes to get everything cleaned up, if you don’t mind waiting.”
“No, that’s perfectly alright.” Twilight gave Mays a smile and set about shifting through the piles of books. Her original plan was to first alphabetize the books before dividing them by author and publishing date, but she had gotten sidetracked somewhere in “C” before going to Manehattan.
Best if I just go through everything all over again.
..................
Mays watched as Twilight shifted through the seemingly endless piles of books. Her organization of the different books was incredibly efficient bordering on obsessive, and he tried his best to say out of her way as she hurried about.
Feeling like he needed to make himself useful, he picked up a nearby book. He was about to put it away, but the title seemed very familiar. He opened it, found a section he knew, and started reading.
“Now will not I deliver his Letter: for the behavior of the young gentlecolt gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding: his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less. Therefore, this letter being so excellently ignorant will breed no terror in the youth; he will find it comes from a Clodde-pole.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in classical literature.” Twilight said. Mays looked up at her.
“Sorry, was I reading aloud again? I tend to do that sometimes.”
“No, it’s perfectly alright. That’s actually one of my favorite plays. Did you have something similar where you came from?”
“Identical, actually, besides the diction. My mother wanted me to become an actor and possibly go to London for more formal training. But a couple bands of militia had other ideas and I had to become a sailor instead… not that I mind; I looked terrible in tights.” A thought crossed Mays’ mind. “Are you an actor?”
“Me? Oh no, I never really got into it; I was always focused on my studies more than my social life. Still, I always thought about doing something like that, even if I never had the time.”
“Ah.” Mays flipped through a couple of pages. “How does this one look?”
.................
Pinkie Pie bounced over to the library, Mays’ hat clenched in her mouth. Everything was ready; she just needed to get Twilight, Mays and Spike. She was so excited about the party that she reached the library much faster than she had originally anticipated.
“Twilight! Everypony’s waiting for-” Pinkie paused. Twilight and Mays were sitting in a fairly good sized pile of books, laughing at something.
“Still, wouldn’t your parents object to you doing something like that?” Mays asked between his laughter.
“They didn’t know until I was out on the roof. My brother raised some concerns, but he really didn’t do anything to stop me. He only said I was trying to fly.”
“But you don’t have any wings.” Pinkie interrupted. The two other ponies froze in terror before Twilight spoke.
“Oh, Pinkie! Sorry about ignoring you; we were just… Pinkie, what are you wearing?” Pinkie Pie was wearing a ridiculously large hat with an equally large feather. Her hair had been tied back into a ponytail, although its natural poof was struggling with the arrangement, and a heavy coat was draped over her back. Her pet alligator Gummy was perched on her shoulder, wearing a bandana and a small eye patch over one eye.
“Who be this ‘Pinkie’ you speak of?” Pinkie asked, her voice a bit rougher than usual. “I be Diane the Pink, Equestria’s most famous pirate, and this be One-Eyed Gummy, me pet alligator.” Pinkie zipped over to where Mays was sitting, staring into his eyes. “Do ye be fixin’ fer a challenge fer me treasure?”
“Uh… what treasure?” Mays said, taking the moment to take his hat back from the pink pony and placing it back on his head. He looked down at his sword, but considered drawing it to be not only overkill but incredibly impolite.
“This treasure.” Pinkie then dumped a huge bag of candy on Mays. The pony bounced over to the door. “Arr! I’ll be seeing you swabbies at the party! Arr!” Pinkie left the library. Mays brushed the last of the candy off and looked at Twilight.
“What kind of pirates do you have around here?” he asked. Twilight merely shrugged and stood up, walking towards the door.
“Not the ones you are used to, apparently. Come on, we’re going to miss all the fun!” Twilight used her magic to grab Spike (the dragon having fallen asleep a long time ago) and ran out of the library, Mays following slowly behind her.
Pinkie had gone all out for the party; most of the town square was decked out in pirate themed decorations, and piñatas shaped like ships, parrots and hats hung from overhangs and lamp posts. Some of the younger and more enthusiastic children had dressed up as pirates and were now following Pinkie Pie to “Pillage the Candy Bowl”.
“So… now what?”
“Haven’t you ever been to a party before?”
“Not one like this.”
“Well, just have fun; talk to some ponies, have some snacks, play a game or two, that sort of thing. I’m sure there are plenty of ponies that would want to hear some kind of story.” Twilight and Spike left the captain. He took a moment to locate his compatriots: Hacksaw was talking with a white pony who shared a similar mark on her flanks as Hacksaw had, except she had hearts instead of saws, and Smith was busy talking with a brown pony with a messy mane and a grey pony with crooked eyes. He decided to leave the two of them to their business and was about to go get some food when he was mobbed by a small horde of young ponies led by Pinkie Pie.
“Arr!” the pink pony said. “This be the pony I be throwing the party fer. He’s probably got stories of all the scurvy dogs he’s had to face. Arr! I be leavin’ you to his mercy to seize meself more booty.” Pinkie disappeared, leaving Mays alone with the crowd of ponies.
“Are you a pirate?” a purple unicorn with a blond mane asked.
“Well… not really, but I have met several pirates before.” And killed several more, but let’s not go there.
“Is Pinkie right; do you have any stories?” an orange Pegasus with a purple mane asked.
“Yes I do; most have nothing to do with pirates, but they’re still good stories."
“Oh please; how good can they be?” a pink pony wearing a tiara said from the back of the group. “I mean, you spend all your time stuck on some stupid ship. That’s got to be, like, so boring.” Mays was not sure why, but he immediately hated this pony; maybe it was her smug look, her manner of speaking, or an inert sense of superiority, but he was sure that, had she been closer to his age, a verbal beating was in order. He restrained himself, however, and shifted through his memories until he found a suitable story.
“Actually, it’s more exciting than you think.” He said. “I’ve had to do hundreds of death defying feats and fight off countless others who would threaten both myself and my crew. If you think sailing around in a ship is boring, then think on this story.”
.................
It was high noon and several clouds floated in the sky. A moderate wind was blowing to the east, creating small waves on the ocean. On the deck of the frigate U.S.S. Georgetown, Captain Montana Mays took a moment to mull on how beautiful the South China Sea was in good weather.
The American fleet under Admiral Crabtree had taken a small port from the Spanish nearly a month ago and was now using that port as a base for operations in the Far East. Their main purpose was to protect American shipping from a pirate organization called the Jade Rebellion, but they were also there to attack and capture other ships from European powers to further America’s position in the ongoing naval wars. Mays had already taken a French schooner called Le Petit Dauphin, and he had even managed to snag a French nobleman that had disguised himself as a sailor. That ship was on its way back to the American Base, and Mays had had a ransom note penned out for the next neutral ship to take to the French.
“Captain,” the helmsman said. “We’re losing some speed; I think the wind is shifting again.”
“Adjust course due southeast; we’ll make another sweep of the area and then make for home.” Mays looked to the men on deck. “Adjust the rigging; try to catch as much wind as possible.”
“Aye captain.” One of the crewmembers shouted back. The Georgetown began to turn, gaining speed as more wind filled her sails. Mays checked the time before heading below deck. There was still a small leak left over from when they took the French ship, causing a fair amount of water to slosh around on the lower decks. Several crewmembers were trying to find the leak and patch it before it got worse, but so far they had found nothing.
“Captain?” one of Mays’ junior officers said.
“Yes? What’s the matter?”
“Well, you see sir, some of the men were wondering when we’d be stopping in port again; we’ve been out here for almost a month and some of them are getting restless.”
“We’ll start heading back tomorrow; if the winds favor us, then we should be back in port by the end of the week.”
"Also, some were complaining about lack of pay..."
"As soon as we get back to port, they'll get paid. I'll even throw in a little extra for seizing that French ship."
“Sail ho!” Came the cry from above.
“Get to your post; we’ll talk on this later.” Mays hurried back on deck and found the man who had spotted the ship. “What did you see?”
“Port side, sir; they’re heading straight for us.” Mays moved to the port side of the ship, pulling out his spyglass as he went.
“Colors?”
“Couldn’t get a good look, sir.” Mays managed to spot the ship and raised his spyglass. It was larger than the Georgetown, and its hull was a mix of red and yellow. Its sails were half red and half white, and above the ship flew a flag Mays had become familiar with in recent months: two crimson bars set against a gold field with an intricate coat of arms between the two.
“Spanish; I guess they found out about that port we took.” He put away his spyglass. “Load the cannons; alternate between grapeshot and solid shot between salvos. Helmsman, bring us around. Marines, get into the rigging and target any officers you see once we close to within musket range. All other crewmembers, prepare to repel boarders.” As the Spanish ship closed, the Americans turned to bring their full broadside to bear. Mays helped coordinate the unassigned crewmen while the gunners worked fast to have their guns loaded.
As the two ships closed, Mays was able to identify the opposing vessel; it was the Salte El Tiburon, a Spanish frigate notable for taking anyone on as crew regardless of race or nationality. She was moving faster than originally claimed, meaning she had a good pilot at the helm. Mays was barely able to make out the Spanish sailors as they too prepared for battle, bringing their ship around to fire their own broadside.
“Cannoneers, on my signal.” He shouted. Mays drew a pistol and his cutlass, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
The Spanish fired first, the Salte El Tiburon’s side becoming enveloped in smoke and fire. All the Spanish shots missed, and Mays remembered why he liked this ship so much: the previous captain had nearly lost the Georgetown in an action off New Guinea, and had had the ship modified to sail low in the water, making it almost impossible for the ship to be hit at long range. This little fact had saved Mays and his crew countless times during raids in the Philippines, and now put the Spanish in a very bad position.
“Fire!” The shots slammed into the side of the Spanish ship, sending wood, canvas and pieces of butchered Spaniard flying in all directions. The Salte El Tiburon made another futile attempt to engage at long range, only for the Georgetown to tear another ragged chunk out of the hull.
The Spanish were not known for innovation in battle. The Spanish Navy had become somewhat of a joke since the end of the American Revolution, with their aging line ships being little to no match to a comparable French or British ship. However, they tended to make up for this with a small batch of fairly skilled captains, some of which were willing if not eager to throw traditional battle procedure out the window. In battles such as this one, now was when these types of Spaniards started to think; standard procedure would call for the Salte El Tiburon to maintain its current course or try to maneuver into the wind to rob opponents of speed, but the ship instead began to move closer to the Georgetown in order to engage with her deck cannons. Mays could see sailors on the other ship gathering rope, grappling hooks, and what appeared to be a large ramp.
“Sir, I think they’re going to board us.” One of his officers said.
“I’ve noticed. My guess is that the captain fought in the Mediterranean and picked up a few techniques from the French or the Corsairs.” Mays was about to give out another order when the Spanish fired.
The deck guns on the Salte El Tiburon were not nearly as powerful as her main broadside, but at this range it did not matter. Half a dozen cannon balls slammed into the Georgetown, destroying one of the American ship’s own deck cannons and knocking two sailors into the sea. The Americans fired back, grapeshot cutting down dozens of enemy sailors. The Spanish fired another salvo before a swarm of grappling hooks flew out, the barbed tips hooking themselves into the wood of the Georgetown.
Mays fired his pistol at the first Spaniard that tried to cross. He missed and the bullet buried itself harmlessly into the mast of the Salte El Tiburon. When the enemy he had been targeting managed to get on deck, Mays drove his cutlass into the man’s throat, nearly severing the man’s head as he pulled the sword out. Another man swung an axe at Mays, who ducked and then backhanded his attacker. Yet another Spaniard managed to get behind him, but a sailor lopped the other man’s arm off with an axe and shoved him into the sea.
Mays located another pistol, grabbed it, and fired it into the face of another boarder. The sailor’s left eye exploded when the bullet struck him, and he toppled over a nearby cannon and was impaled on a loose grappling hook. Mays tossed the pistol aside and attacked another boarder, his sword being blocked only inches from the other man’s gut. The boarder pulled away and swung at Mays, who parried and lunged again, this time clipping an artery in his opponent’s leg.
Another salvo from the Georgetown struck the Salte El Tiburon, throwing off the next batch of boarders. Mays used the spare time to reorganize the marines and launch a small counter attack, driving the remaining Spanish towards the stern, away from the majority of the Georgetown’s deck cannons. Mays and the marines would have been able to kill them all, but the second wave of boarders hit and they were forced to change tactics.
Mays turned just as his next target reached the ship. The man was clothed in a red cape and abnormally fine clothes, and he wore a bright red mask that covered a good bit of his face. He had a long, twirled moustache, and he was armed with a handsomely decorated rapier. Mays stopped focusing on what he was wearing and raised his cutlass.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I believe you would be Montana Mays.” The man said with a heavy Spanish accent. “Your reputation is not misplaced. Allow me to introduce myself: I am The Mask, and I have come to relieve you of your ship.”
“Only if my blood has been splattered over that fancy coat of yours.”
“That can be arranged.” The Mask drew his sword and lunged at Mays, the American just barely blocking. Mays swung for the Spaniard’s head, The Mask parrying and lunging forward again. Mays dodged, but the sword sliced his left arm. Mays paused for a moment to let the pain subside before swinging his cutlass at The Mask’s head. The Mask blocked, but Mays’ attack had distracted him long enough for Mays to slam his fist into the other man’s gut, knocking The Mask off his feet.
Mays stood over The Mask to kill him before the Spaniard kicked out with his legs. The Mask’s boot hit Mays in the shins, knocking him over as well. Mays pulled himself up and stood to face The Mask, who had also recovered. The two threw themselves at each other, attacking any weak point they could see. By now the fight between the two captains had become the major focus of the battle, with other knots of sailors moving out of their way as they dueled.
“I still don’t see why you go on.” The Mask said, blocking another thrust. “You can see that you are clearly outmatched. And your form is atrocious; however did you become a captain if you fight like that?”
“As for being outmatched, you made all of one injury, and as for my form, I didn’t get any formal schooling like you did. It may look bad, but it allows me to improvise.” With that, Mays threw his shoulder into The Mask’s chest, knocking the Spaniard over a railing and into the ocean. Mays turned to the rest of his men. “Cut us loose; there’s not much we can do here.”
“But what about their captain?”
“What about him? He’s not going to get back onboard for awhile with that big cape weighing him down.”
“But they can still chase us down.” Mays paused before getting an idea.
“You,” he pointed to a nearby cannoneer. “Come with me.” the two made their way to the stern of the Georgetown. The Salte El Tiburon was still firing, so they had to tread carefully. “What’s your name?”
“Johnson, sir.” the cannoneer replied.
“So, Mr. Johnson; do you think you can hit the helm from here?” the two had stopped by a swivel cannon near the stern. Johnson took a good look at the helm of the opposing ship.
“I dunno; it’s a far shot, and we’re under fire.”
“Do what you can.” Johnson nodded and took aim. A smokepot had been fired from Salte El Tiburon, but the cannoneer was able to get into position before-
...................
“Going off about your heroics again?” Mays stopped and looked at Hacksaw.
“Hey, they asked me for a story, so I gave them one.”
“And got a little too into it, I see.” Mays got back down on all fours (he had somehow managed to hold his sword in his right hoof despite not having fingers) and put his sword away. He turned to the crowd of young ponies, who were staring wide-eyed at him.
“So, you should go on and enjoy the rest of the party. I’m sure Pinkie Pie had a bunch of other things planned.” Most of the ponies, including the smug pink one, broke off. The only ones that stuck around were a trio of three fillies, including the orange and purple one from earlier.
“So, what happened then?” a yellow pony with a red mane and bow asked.
“Somehow Johnson made the shot and we were able to get away.”
“Was that how you got your cutie mark?” a white unicorn with a pink and purple mane asked.
“What?”
“Your cutie mark.” The yellow pony said, pointing to the mark on his flank. “It tells you what your special talent is.”
“How come you don’t have yours?” at this, all three ponies’ faces fell.
“We… haven’t found what are special talents are.” The unicorn said.
“But we’re going to!” the Pegasus said. “For we are the Cutie Mark Crusaders!”
“We’re Crusadin’ for our cutie marks!” the yellow pony said.
“And we won’t stop until we get them!” the unicorn said. Mays regarded the three fillies for a moment; they were incredibly enthusiastic about the whole thing, but that energy was on the verge of overwhelming. Then the Pegasus looked at him.
“Hey, maybe we could help you somehow.” the filly said. “We could be… Cutie Mark Crusader Cannoneers!”
“I don’t think we’re big enough for that.” The unicorn said.
“Then what can we do?”
“We could always use more recruits…” Hacksaw muttered. The three fillies heard him and got an idea.
“That’s it! We can find other ponies to help them!"
“Yeah, that’s a great idea!”
“CUTIEMARKCRUSADERSDRAFTBOARD! YAY!” the three fillies ran off. Mays looked at Hacksaw.
“Don’t do that again.”
“Sorry, captain.”
...................
Twilight was enjoying herself. Despite having to persuade Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo from “drafting” a few ponies for Mays’ ship, this one was one of the best parties Pinkie had ever set up.
“So Twilight, how was your time with Captain Mays?” Twilight looked at Rarity.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t try to fool me, Twilight; I passed by the library on my way here, and personally I think you make for a marvelous Queen Anne. Shame you had to switch to something else; I would have loved to hear what other talents you have. And I’ve seen how you’ve been staring at him-”
“I-I haven’t been staring at anypony.”
“There’s nothing to hide from me, Twilight; as your friend you can count on me to keep the utmost secrecy about any relations you may have with somepony. Though I can hardly blame you for showing interest; Captain Mays is incredibly handsome, wouldn’t you agree?” Twilight tried to come up with an answer, but found none that would get her out of the conversation.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Rarity assured her. “I did, didn’t I? Oh, I’m so sorry, Twilight; sometimes I get these ideas and I just let my words get ahead of me and I-”
“Rarity, you didn’t embarrass me. I don’t have any feeling like that towards anypony.”
“Really?”
“Yes… at least, I think so. It’s been awhile since I’ve read about relationships… I probably have a book on them somewhere.” Twilight got so lost on her thought process that she did not see Rarity leave. Her heart sank a little when she realized Rarity was gone, thinking that she had scared off one of her best friends because of her indecision, but she was able to snap out of it quickly.
Everything’s going to be okay, Twilight; you’ll help these ponies get back home, and then you can go back to your life. Nothing bad can come of this, right?
“Great, I just had to think that.” She said before going back to the party.
.................
The moon was high over the ocean, and Luna’s night had made the sea as black as tar. Beneath the waves, fish and other sea creatures had moved to shallower waters to feed, or dived deep to rest until Celestia raised the sun in the morning. Only a few ships could be seen sailing along the coast, and for now Equestria was at peace. Or at least, it seemed that way.
Far off the coast, farther than most ponies had ever ventured, lay a small island. There was nothing special about this island, save for a small shrine built on the highest point of the island. The shrine began to glow and flicker, alerting to the presence of dark magics afoot.
Near one of the many reefs that surrounded the island, the sea began to boil and ripple. A depression formed and out came a ship of a design nopony had ever seen before. It had three masts with tattered grey sails, and water poured from its deck and dripped off the blade of a massive scythe that was attached to the bow.
From the helm, the captain of the vessel looked out at the new world. He cared not that he and his crew had become ponies; to him, the body was merely a tool to be used, and it made for a great source of raw materials.
“This new ocean is perfect, my masters.” The captain said, his voice raspy and dry. “The beings of this world are innocent; ripe for the harvest that we shall carry out. They shall be taught fear, and they will learn to call you master as I have.” The captain shifted his gaze down to his crew. Not a single one among them bore any resemblance to what they once were; their flesh had turned green and was rotting, their hair long since died and fallen out, and for most only diseased bones were what was left of their past lives. The captain too had become like them, and all that remained of his face was a hideous skull with a single glowing eye.
“Let their blood stain the oceans red as we spread the power of El Fantasma.” Sammy the Skull said as the Chum Maker sailed west on its dark course.