At first glance, Zecora’s tree-hut seemed far different from the typical pony home, located as it was down a longish path through the Everfree forest and decorated with strange, often intimidating-looking art from her homeland.  Standing in the kitchen, Pinkie Pie remembered how frightened she had been of the zebra when they first met.  She chuckled quietly to herself; it all seemed so silly now.  Once you became accustomed to the decor, Zecora’s home felt every bit as warm and welcoming anyone else’s.  After all, she thought, how likely is it that an evil enchantress would have little knitted duckies on her potholders? 

        “Quest log, day... uh, seventeen!” she whispered to herself, turning her attention to more important matters, “Disaster!  Somehow, in spite of my efforts to stop her, Applejack has gotten us into yet another game!  Also, although I can’t be sure, I think her symptoms are getting worse.  In the last game, she seemed to find herself floundering in the fickle figments of fantasy, resulting in a perplexing punch to a poor, powerless plush.  In the interest of her own safety, I may need to resort to drastic measures.”  She picked up a frying pan sitting on the kitchen counter and gave it a few experimental swings.  

“N... nah,” she said eventually, setting the pan back on the counter, “I’d have a hard time explaining that to Zecora.  Besides, things haven’t gotten that bad yet.  I hope.”

        A voice came from down the hall.  “Are you finished getting your drink?  You’ve been taking pretty long, I think.”

        “I’m coming!” Pinkie said, heading back to the dining room, “I was, uh, super thirsty!  Those hay fries sure were salty, huh?”

        Applejack shrugged. “Nothin’ wrong with mine.”  She was sitting at a round wooden table nestled in a small alcove in Zecora’s dining room.  Pinkie decided it was her breakfast nook, although she wasn’t sure if the zebra would call it that.  Zecora had retrieved several cardboard boxes from her attic, one of which Applejack was busily digging through.  “Come over here an’ check out all of Zecora’s old gaming gear.” she said, “It’s totally vintage!”

She pulled out a well-worn manual, blowing the thick layer of dust off the cover and flipping though its yellowing pages.  “Boy, I love these corny old illustrations.  Oh, wow, are those pewter minis?  All Spike’s got are the plastic ones.”  She set the manual down reverently before investigating the new treasures.  Each figure was meticulously hoof-painted, tiny works of art in their own right. “These things are so cool!  Did you really paint all of ‘em yourself?”

Zecora nodded, blushing slightly at the implied compliment.  “I’m glad that you think they aren’t too shoddy.  In the old days, we considered it half of the hobby.”

        Pinkie took a closer look at the little metal figures as she sat down.  She picked up one that looked like a flying, upside-down plate of spaghetti with googly eyes.  “Neat, a flumph!” she said, “I don’t think I know anyone else who has one of those.”

         “Heck, I didn’t even know they made ‘em.” Applejack scratched her head, “Flumphs have never been exactly, you know, popular.”

        “As monsters go, they’re far from the elite,” said Zecora, “But I have a liking for the strange and offbeat.”

        Applejack grinned.  “Guess that explains why you hang out with us, eh?”

        Pinkie watched the two of them laugh, thinking carefully.  Applejack seemed calm and friendly, a world apart from the sullen mess she had been earlier.  She started to relax.  Maybe things weren’t as bad as she thought.  “So anyway, Zecora,” she said, “Whatcha you got planned for us?”

        Zecora was grinning ear-to-ear as she set up the DM screen, unable to keep a little bit of schoolgirl enthusiasm from peeking out underneath her normally stoic demeanor.  “I’ve been wracking my mind for an appropriate theme.” she said, “What would you say to a more unconventional scheme?”

        “Whatever you want.” said Applejack, leaning back in her chair, “After the day I’ve had, I’m up for just about anything.”

        “Well, I was thinking that our game could explore the swashbuckling sailors from days of yore.”

        Pinkie leaned forward suddenly, accidentally knocking over a row of miniatures like dominoes.  “You mean, like, pirates?  Cool!” she said, practically vibrating in her seat, “I’m SO all about pirates!”

        “Well, yeah,” said Applejack, “But it’s not like they’re anything new for you.  You work ‘em into your games all the time.”

        “Those are AIR pirates,” Pinkie said as if it were to most obvious thing in the world,  “They’re totally different.”

        “Sure, like night an’ day.” Applejack rolled her eyes, “But heck, I ain’t gonna complain.  It’ll give me an excuse to use a race I’ve wanted to try.”

        “Sweet!” said Pinkie, “Avast and shiver me timbers, ye scurvy landlubbers!  Anchors aweigh and hoist the Jolly Rodger, yo ho!”

        “Try an’ take it down a notch, will ya Pinkie?”

        “Sorry.”

Now begins a rousing tale

Of windy shores and crashing sea

Where bonny bands of heroes sail

With merry hearts and jeux d’esprit

Stalwart allies meet in these

Our epic verse, inaugural

I’ll tell you of them, if you please

Excuse my dire doggerel

Along the coastline, by the bay

A nameless city-state we join

A tiny dot on tiny cay

Where idle sailors spend their coin

We hear a cheerful bardic song

Down by the dock’s marina

She earns her bread the whole day long

A-playing concertina

“What do you do when foes surround

And friends become much colder?

What do you do when solid ground

Begins to smoke and smoulder?

What do you do when you are bound

Between hard place and boulder?

What beauty is there to be found

In the eye of a beholder?”

Though with her talent and her wit

A skillful song she narrates

Her audience, she must admit,

Are a bunch of freaking cheapskates

“At this rate, I’ll go broke!” said she

“And get kicked out of my cabana

But I’ll earn my way adventurously

Or my name’s not Zinnadiana!”

With that our busking bard sets out

To find employment elsewhere

‘Til suddenly she hears the shout

Of a convenient pirate job-fair

“Come one, come all!” the voice proclaimed

“And come get volunteered!

Now is your chance to sail with famed

Captain Xavier Orangebeard!”

Orange by name, and likeness too

As his fiery locks attest

He wore a rapier, sharp and true

Flintlock pistols crossed his chest

Though elfin features seemed quite clear

He was secretly exotic

The gills he hid ‘neath pointed ear

Revealed him as aquatic

“I need recruits,” the elf explained

“Right now, or even sooner

Sound of body and well-trained

To man a pirate schooner

I need a group of scoundrels who

Will serve me at my pleasure

Fight at my side and I’ll give you

A modest share of treasure”

“A crew,” he said, “to help me try

To seek immortal fame

And with your toil, though you may die,

Bring glory to my name!”

“Come now, sailors!  Are you not men?”

He said with much frustration

But for a glance e’r now and then

They ignored his protestation

“You there!” he said unto the bard

“Are you just here to sight-see?

Or the only one in this shipyard

Brave enough to join me?”

“To tell the truth,” she said, “I fear

Your offer’s less than spiffy

But since you’re the only PC here

I’ll be with you in a jiffy”

“Very well,” the captain quipped

“I guess it’s you and me, then

We’d best procure a proper ship

Before we find more seamen”

They searched the dock to buy a skiff

A clipper, sloop, or yacht

They found this difficult, what with

A budget less than squat

They came upon a lonely pier

Where one was left to crumble

And though the ship was somewhat queer

Its price, at least, was humble

They found the vessel’s current skipper

(Some sort of fish-man creature)

He offered them a friendly flipper

And told them “Pleased ta’ meet ’yer!”

“Cut the idle chit-chat, fishy!”

The pirate captain sneered

“Unless you want to end up squishy

Your ship’s been commandeered!”

“He doesn’t mean that as a threat!”

The bard said, acting chummy

“He’s just a little bit upset

About our lack of money”

“No worries, lassie,” said the trout

“I need ‘nae compensation

The ship be yours if ye clear out

Its zombie infestation”

The captain clapped and said, “All right!

At last, my stars align!

‘Cause I’ve been itching for a fight

And these mooks will do just fine!”

He grinned enthusiastically

And made an about-turn

He dove into the briny sea

And swam abaft the stern

He climbed up past the bulward

And rolled onto the deck

He drew his trusty short-sword

And resolved to give ‘em heck

Before him stood the glass-eyed dead

In shambling file and rank

The bard, appearing beside him, said

“You could have used the gangplank”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said

With just a touch of scorn

“Come on now, let’s make these undead

Wish they were never un-born!”

He boldly charged into to the fray

And cut them apart like cheese blocks

The bard stood quietly, out of his way

While she prepared her squeeze-box

She worked the bellows hard and flipped

Aside a secret latch

A hail of arrows, poison tipped

Launched from its hidden hatch

The zombies failed to be rebuffed

Or even need assistance

She crossly rolled her eyes and huffed

“Stupid poison resistance!”

She grumbled as the nearest dead

Came toward her, arms outstretched

She put her palm against its head

To hold it back while she kvetched

“How come every instrument I bag

Ends up taking a floggin’?

Might as well make it a running gag”

As she smashed it on its noggin

Their foes were felled both left and right

No match for their aggression

But still their numbers, through the fight

Never seemed to lessen

Orangebeard couldn’t locate any

Source that fed the scare

He shouted “Just how bleedin’ many

Of these buggers are there?”

The fish-guy waved his fins about

To get the pair’s attention

“There’s somethin’ that could help ye out

That I forgot ta’ mention!”

“I think ye needs to stop the fight

Before it gets much worse

There’s ‘nae point in killing ‘em outright

‘Til ye removes the curse!”

        “Curse?” said Pinkie, “What kind of curse?”

 Zecora looked up from her screen, slightly annoyed that her flow was interrupted.  “Please forgive me for pressing,” she said, “But which character are you addressing?”

        “Huh?  Oh, sorry.” said Pinkie, “I forgot to tell you, but we like to break character every now and then and talk about, uh, stuff.  Discuss strategy, that sort of thing.”

        “And argue over every little detail, if we’re bein’ honest.” added Applejack.

        Zecora looked perplexed.  “Wouldn’t that ruin immersion?  No offence, that’s only my assertion.”

        “You know, I never thought about it like that." said Applejack, scratching her chin, “I guess it does, but we’ve been doin’ it so long I kinda got used to it.”

        “Yeah, so anyway,” said Pinkie, “Curse: what kind?  I guess I’m asking the fish guy.”

        Zecora shrugged, deciding to roll with it.  “No matter how many zombies are subdued,” she explained, “Their numbers will be constantly renewed.”

        “So, infinite zombies?” said Applejack, looking unimpressed, “That’s your idea of an encounter?  A never-ending swarm of 1-hp minions?  Seems more annoying than challenging.”

        Zecora raised an eyebrow at her.  “I know it’s not my place to chastise, but do you not know a puzzle when it’s before your eyes?”

        “Ohhhh, I get it!” said Pinkie, her face lighting up, “So this is more of a thinkin’ fight, not a fightin’ fight.”

        “A puzzle?” Applejack blanched, “Uh, okay, it’s just... Spike never really put any puzzles in his campaign.  How does that even work in D&D?”

        “It’s not that hard,” said Pinkie, “There’s no real set solution, you just have to think it out and adapt to the circumstances.  It’s all about lateral thinking.”

        “But Intelligence is my dump stat!”  Applejack blurted out.  She paused for a second as the two looked at her from across the table.   “Orangebeard.  Orangebeard’s dump stat.”  She coughed, her cheeks going red.

        “Uh, all right.” said Pinkie, cutting through the awkwardness, “I’ll take care of this one, okay?  I think I have an idea.”

        “How?  It’s impossible!” said Applejack, “We don’t have a spellcaster to remove the curse, or even figure out where it’s comin’ from.”

        “You’re thinking too narrowly,” said Pinkie, “You gotta try and come at the problem all sideways.  Think about it: we have a whole bunch of zombies AND no crew.  Why don’t we use one problem to solve the other?”

        “Wait, you’re not seriously suggesting...”

        “Oh, I’m suggesting it, all right!”

Zinnadiana tapped her chin

And analysed their plight

She came to a solution, then

That set her eyes alight

She said “I need to make a stop

So I’ll be right back, you guys!”

She headed to the butcher shop

To pick up some supplies

She toiled through the afternoon

With levers, cogs, and chutes

The others came to see her soon

And her long labor’s fruits

The zombie horde was in the hold

Bound to her automation

Their jerky movements thus controlled

A clockwork power station

Gray-matter organs hung above

Barely out of grasping hands

And each zombie’s clumsy shove

Advanced a treadmill’s turning bands

“You see?” the bard said cannily

Adjusting gears and chains

“There’s no challenge out there we

Can’t solve by using brains

I think that for a ship this special,

A new name’s overdue

And so I hereby dub this vessel

The Pinkitania II!”

They scrutinized the machine’s details

Admiring Zinnadiana’s work

‘Til an unexpected windy gale

Caused the ship to tip and jerk

They rocked under the bracing gust

That made their sailboat’s timbers flex

They left the zombies safely trussed

And scrambled back above the decks

A peal of thunder split the air

Letting out a mighty crack

A shadow stood out ‘mid the glare

Enter now, Grimstar the Black!

        “Whoa, hold up there, Zecora.” said Applejack.

        “We can’t use Grimstar,” said Pinkie, “Not without...”  She was cut off by a knock at the door.

        “Hello?” a voice echoed down the hall, “Zecora?  It’s me, Twilight!”

        Pinkie pulled a double take.  Then a triple take.  Then another double take, for good measure.  She stared wide-eyed at Zecora.  “Do that again!”

Zecora only smiled at her as she answered the door.  

        “Oh, good, you are home.” Twilight said.  She entered the shack, her saddlebags bulging with books.  Pinkie flagged her down from the table.

        “Ohmigosh, Twilight!” she said, “You won’t believe this, but Zecora totally knew you were coming!”

        “Of course she did,” Twilight said, raising an eyebrow at her, “We agreed to meet up tonight so she could help me work on my spell.”

        “Now, wait a second,” Applejack said, eyeing Zecora suspiciously, “So you knew darn well when she was comin’ all along, but you still let us think... ?”

        “Do you forget to whom you speak?” Zecora winked at her, “I like to maintain an air of mystique.”

        “Yeah, no kiddin’.” Applejack chuckled.

        Twilight set her stack of books down with a grunt.  “What are you guys doing here, anyway?” she asked.

        “We met out by the food courts.” Zecora explained, “Applejack was feeling out of sorts.  It saddened me to see her pout, so I figured I would help her out.”

        “Help her... how?" Twilight asked, suspicion beginning to creep into her voice.

        “Well, obviously,” Applejack said, gesturing to the game table, “She’s DMing for us.  I told her what lousy luck I’ve had with games today, and she...”

        “Games?” Twilight said, “As in, plural?”  She looked at Pinkie, who seemed like she was trying to say something but couldn’t think of the right words.  Twilight kept an eye on her as she spoke to Applejack again.  “Just how many games have you played today?”

        “Welp,” Applejack tipped her hat, leaning back in her chair, “I guess this would be the third one.  But the other two were sorta disasters, so they don’t really count.  Today’s been kinda crazy.”  She shrugged, smiling in a ‘what-are-you-gonna-do’ sort of way.

        “I... see.”  Twilight’s face remained carefully blank. “Pinkie, can I talk to you for a minute?”

        Pinkie followed her into the kitchen, trying not to let the others see her guilty expression.  When they were out of sight, Twilight turned on her.  

        “What the heck, Pinkie?” she hissed, “I thought you were keeping an eye on her!  Did you even try to keep her away from games?”

        “I did!  I totally tried!” Pinkie’s eyes shifted, “But then I sort of... didn’t.”

        “That’s not going to cut it.” said Twilight, “I trusted you Pinkie Pie!  But three games?  Three!?”  

Pinkie hung her head, unable to meet her gaze.  Twilight closed her eyes, trying to rein in her anger.  “For the love of... Look, at least you can tell me how she’s been acting.  What kind of character is she playing?”

        “Um, I think she called Orangebeard an aquatic-elf swashbuckler.”

        Twilight’s face fell.  “Aquatic elf?  You mean she’s been reading Unearthed Arcana?  My God, it’s worse than I thought!”

        “Oh, come on,” Pinkie forced herself to sound bright and peppy, “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Twilight pulled a notebook out of her bags and checked something.  “We’ll compare her actions to the list of symptoms I’ve compiled.  Now, has she had any violent outbursts?”

        “Uh...” said Pinkie, remembering Big Macintosh.

        Twilight clucked her tongue in irritation.  “What about her state of mind?  Has she been confusing fantasy and reality?”

        “Um...” she said, remembering Billy Bunny.

        “Pinkie!”  Twilight groaned, “I need you to focus here!”

        “I know, Twi-”

        “Do you?  Do you really?”  Twilight paced a slow circle around Pinkie, glaring at her. “Because it seems to me like you’ve just been goofing off all day.  This isn’t a game, Pinkie, this is important!  Applejack could be in serious trouble here, do you understand that?  Do you even care?”

        Pinkie reacted as if she’d been slapped.  She stared at her hooves, her lip trembling.  “I... I care, Twilight.  You know I do.” she sniffed, “I’m worried about her too.”

        Twilight stopped pacing.  “I didn’t...  I didn’t mean to...” she stammered.  She took a deep breath, gaining control over her temper.  When she was calm again, she sat down next to Pinkie.  

“I’m sorry, I know you care about her.” she sighed wearily, feeling the long nights of the past few weeks catching up to her.  “It’s just been so hard watching what happened to Derpy.  Feeling like she’s slipping away, like there’s nothing I can do to help her.  I can’t handle seeing it happen to another one of my friends.  I just... I just can’t.”

        Pinkie sat next to Twilight for a moment.  “I know it’s hard, Twilight.” she said, touching her gently on her shoulder, “But look... maybe playing is good for her.  You know, to get it out of her system?”

Twilight looked at her skeptically, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” said Pinkie, “Derpy only went cra... I mean, she only had a problem after not playing for a few weeks.  Maybe she was using the games to vent some frustration.”

“Hm.” Twilight thought it over.  “That’s not the healthiest way to deal with anxiety, but it is a psychologically recognised response mechanism.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” said Pinkie, gathering momentum, “So, maybe Applejack is under some stress, or something, and pretending to beat up trolls and stuff helps her deal with it.  You know how sometimes you feel cruddy for one reason or another, but you bottle it up?”  Pinkie mimed putting all of her troubles into a bottle, “But you don’t have any way to deal with it, so you just keep adding stuff to the bottle... ” she pretended her invisible bottle was getting bigger, “...and it’s just building and building and building until, one day, all of a sudden, BOOM!”  She threw her hooves in the air.  “And then Mr. and Mrs. Cake won’t let you use the pressure cooker anymore.”

Twilight blinked.  “So, what does this have to do with Applejack?”

“What I mean is,” said Pinkie, “The first two games today didn’t, uh, didn’t end well.” Pinkie scratched her head nervously, “But maybe if we let her have a really good game and blow off all her stress, she’ll go back to normal.”  She shrugged.  “It’s worth a shot, right?”

Twilight paused, weighing her options.  “It’s... risky.” she said, “But if we can’t keep her from playing at all, we might as well try it.  At least I’ll be able to watch her this time and evaluate her responses.  I’ll try to use some psycho-analytical techniques to get her to open up.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie nodded vigorously, “Get all up inside her noggin and root around a bit!”

Twilight decided to ignore that. “We’d better get back before she starts getting suspicious.”

Applejack was waiting for them when they returned to the table.  “Well, it’s about time ya’ll showed up.” she said, “Hope you don’t mind, but we kept going a little bit while you were gone and a giant squid attacked our ship.  You’re up next, Twi.”

“Ah, so you feel like you’re being attacked by a giant squid, do you?” said Twilight, getting out her notebook, “How does that make you feel?”

“...Slimy?” Applejack looked at her strangely, “Look, if we’re gonna role-play, let’s do it in character.  You need to do some catchin’ up, anyway.”

Zinnadiana took the helm

And plotted out their routes

“So Grimstar,” she leaned in to tell‘m

“What brings you hereabouts?”

“I’m traveling across this land

To study magic’s various forms

I figured a ship could use me on hand

To help manipulate the storms”

“True, a storm wizard to escort

Let’s us pull all the stops out

Good thing that’s always been your forte

Or this might feel like a cop-out”

“Finish up your chat, you two!”

They heard their fearless captain say

“Unless you’ve something better to do

We’re under attack by a cliche!”

Tentacles thrashed across the deck

As Orangebeard engaged in combat

Zinny whistled, “How in the the heck

Could I have possibly missed that?”

“Bend your oars and break your backs!”

The captain shouted hoarsely

“We won’t let some stupid squid’s attacks

Throw our ship off-course, see?”

The captain’s sword flew fast and free

The squid returned his blows in kind

And though he focused on the fight

Something, somewhere, subtly

Didn’t feel exactly right

And nagged the back of his mind

“Did any of you feel that, too?”

He spoke with mounting dread

“Like tentacles are gripping you

But, like, inside your head?”

“I fear I don’t know what you mean”

The wizard told him, most astute

“We’ll figure it out once we’ve been seen

To dealing with this ugly brute”

“Don’t worry captain,” said the bard

These things are stupid bleeders

“We won’t find the battle all that hard

With you here as our leader”

The squid then seemed to have a thought

And found it quite attractive

Wrapping him in a tentacle knot

It took the captain captive

“Release him now!” the wizard roared

“You churlish cephalopod!

Or I’ll show you the power stored

Within my lightning rod!”

Grimstar lifted up his staff

And fire glowed within his eyes

From up above, a golden shaft

Of lightning tore apart the skies

The creature held the captain fast

And knocked aside his sword

And as it caught the wizard’s blast

It threw him overboard

A sinking feeling filled him

As the sinking captain sunk

All the thoughts that he was thinking

Were getting harder to get thunk

Passing through the driftwood dregs

He slowly drifted, aimlessly

And saw the slimy things with legs

That crawled beneath the slimy sea

His eyes adjusted to the gloom

And saw his fast approaching doom

It seemed as though a giant fish

With tentacles along its side

And pores exuding with a squish

A caustic, rancid smelling slime

That coated its unearthly hide

It fixed him an accusing glare

With its rheumy eyes of three

Orangebeard couldn’t help but stare

At their unreal monstrosity

He found it odd

What twisted God

Arranged the thing’s eyes vertically?

He fought fruitlessly against the tide

His muscles feeling drained and weak

The creature swam along his side

And, though lacking lips, began to speak

“O, woe is thou, unwary traveler

Beneath the ocean depths, I reign

Entombed with I, the mind unraveller

Your battle lost, your allies slain

Although you’ve bested my familiar

Behold, the master rears his head

O, now feel your brain bewilder’d

Let your thoughts sleep with the dead

Every foe I’ve met has ended

Tethered to me, or lamented

Here among the sleeping dead”

Orangebeard kicked his legs and forced

His aching arms find purchase

His efforts changed his sinking course

And sent him towards the surface

“See the fool who tries to flee

Under my spell, already lost

Be still now, or I’ll let you see

My price, I levy when I’m crossed

It pains me more than it does thee

To levy such a potent cost”

A blast of hot, psionic pain

Rended Orangebeard’s mind ablaze

He tensed himself, and tried to gain

Some distance in between his crazed

Pursuer and his unguarded self

Taking shelter ‘neath a rocky shelf

He shivered, lonely with his fears

His heartbeat booming in his ears

A moment’s pause, a thought occurred

As he let his fears subside

Did the pounding sound he heard

Come from within, or from outside?

His hiding spot, after reflection

Was actually a giant fin

To which attached, upon inspection

A massive, sleeping terrapin

He thought back to the bard’s advice

And came to understand

He thought of all he’d sacrificed

And came up with a plan

He kicked against the scaly fin

Feeling the waking beast vibrate

He found an opening within

And prayed the thing would take his bait

“You think you’ve lost me, do you, knave?

I see you with my second sight

Even when hiding in that cave

Lit like a candle in the night

Don’t think that you’ve escaped your plight”

The creature charged at its opponent

Ferocious, vicious, homicidal

Orangebeard waited for his moment

And jabbed the turtle’s giant eyeball

He dodged the massive, snapping beak

Tossed by the churning violence

And with a final psychic shriek

At last, his mind found silence

Crawling up the turtle’s shell

Orangebeard could almost take no more

Emerging from his watery hell

Onto a puzzling, sandy shore

He looked around and gently swore

(The only way he could react)

It seems this giant turtle bore

A tropical island on its back

“I’ve seen my share of strangeness, true

But now I’ve seen it all” said he

Then something else came into view

That proved him wrong immediately

He thought the strange approaching shape

Was a mirage, or something zanier

As it got closer, his dry mouth gaped

It was the Pinkitania!

He recognized the beat-up craft

But it was altered rather oddly

It flew above him, held aloft

By the squid’s inflated body

Seeing a knotted rope descend

He grasped it, and was pulled aboard

By his familiar wizard friend

Who greeted him with warm accord

“We’ve really found you, thank the Gods!”

The wizard slapped his back with glee

“We were certain that the odds

Had you forever lost at sea

We thought the ocean need be scoured

To find a single, missing man

What luck that we have both encountered

The exact same traveling zaratan!”

The bard was there, across the deck

Shouting, “Come ‘ere, ya great big lug!”

She gave his cheek a gentle peck

And crushed him in a massive hug

Orangebeard shot the bard a smile

And said, “It’s good to see you, kid

I guess that was the last time I’ll

Underestimate a giant squid”

She released him from her tight embrace

And said, “You aren’t the only one!

We had to feed it what’s-his-face

That fishy guy, the poor old chum

It turned out that the lightning blast

Just drove the monster bonkers

When it destroyed our mainsail mast

I thought we’d all be goners!

We beat the squid eventually

After a long, hard battle

But then we found ourselves at sea

Without a sail or paddle

We might have been left stranded there

With no one else around but shrimp

But Grimstar summoned some hot air

To make this calamari blimp”

Orangebeard said, “I think we’re due

A time at port to rest up, some

I don’t know about the rest of you

But I could use a tot of rum!”

With that, our heroes did depart

Sailing ‘cross the clear blue sky

Perhaps one day they will embark

To lands unknown to you or I

What happens next, you’re asking me?

I can’t tell you with much certitude

For any tale of men at sea

Will always end: “To Be Continued...”

        “That was certainly a glorious fight,” said Zecora, “But I think it’s time we call it a night.”

        “Aw, really?” said Applejack, looking up from the table, “I was just gettin’ into it.”

        Zecora nodded sagely.  “In order to make a story that you’ll adore, it’s important that I leave you wanting more.” she said, “Besides, the sun will be going down soon.  The path is dangerous enough at noon.”

        “Oh yeah,” said Pinkie, glancing at the clock, “I really don’t want to get caught walking through the Everfree Forest at night.”

        “Well...” Applejack said reluctantly, “That is true.  I guess.”

“I think I’ll stay over with Zecora for the night.” said Twilight, “She still owes me some work on my spell.  And, uh, Pinkie?  You keep working on that... recipe... I asked you about earlier, okay?  Make sure it’s, uh, shelf-stable?”  She gave her friend a meaningful look and a wink.

“No problemundo!” Pinkie said, winking back, “I’ll add plenty of extra sugar, too!  And some nutmeg!”  She winked a few more times and made a stirring motion with her hooves.

“Huh?” said Twilight.  She shook her head.  “I mean, sure.  You do that.”

“Thanks so much for playing with me, everyone.” Zecora said brightly as she packed away her things, “I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun!”

Applejack and Pinkie Pie excused themselves, happy to leave behind a cheerful zebra.  They walked along the forest path, watching as the light from the setting sun turned golden around them.  Pinkie stayed a few paces behind Applejack, keeping an eye on her.

        “Soooo... what did you think?” she asked, “About Zecora’s game, I mean.  Pretty cool, huh?”

        Applejack paused a moment, thinking.  “I’m not really sure.” she said eventually, “To be honest, the rhyming took a little gettin’ used to.  Kinda made resolving the attack rolls awkward.”

        “I liked that part!” said Pinkie, “Especially when she kept having to rhyme ‘THAC0’ with ’attack-o’.”

        Applejack laughed.  “You’re not wrong, there.”   They walked silently for a moment as she thought about it some more.

        “You know,” Pinkie said, “That was some quick thinking, the way you sicced that zaratan on the aboleth.  I told you you could handle a little puzzle or two!”

        “Heh, yeah, I guess so.” Applejack admitted, “And for your part, it was genius how you threw the fish-guy to the squid to buy some time.  Sacrificing an NPC to save yourself?  I’ll make a min-maxer outta’ you yet.”  She chuckled, shaking her head.  “You know, I have to admit that was a really great game.  Lots of action, a couple a’ interesting monsters, cool aquatic setting...”

        “Don’t forget when she split the party,” Pinkie added,  “That was a pretty bold move.  It’s a really hard thing for a DM to pull off, and she didn’t even flinch.”

Applejack nodded. “Yeah... all things considered, it was probably the best game I’ve played yet.”

Pinkie saw her opportunity and struck.  “So, I guess you’re done playing for a while, huh?” she said casually, “I mean, anything we did now just wouldn’t compare, right?”

 Applejack stopped walking.  “Hmm...” she said, scratching her chin, “I guess you’ve got a point, there.”  Over her shoulder, Pinkie pumped her hooves in the air.  “I suppose I could at least stand waiting for Spike to finish his campaign now.  We’d have a hard time finding a better DM than Zecora.  She’s pretty much the best ever.”

“Is that so, little hayseed?”

Pinkie spun around.  Behind them, just to the side of the trail, was a beaten-up wooden trailer that she was sure hadn’t been there a moment before.  A figure stood silhouetted in the trailer’s door frame.

Applejack narrowed her eyes.  “Hello, Trixie.” she said icily, “What are you doing out here in the woods?”

“Never mind about that.” Trixie said, tossing her hair haughtily, “I overheard you talking about the little game you’ve been playing.  Best dungeon master ever, is that right?  I highly doubt that.”

“Hey, uh, Applejack?” Pinkie said nervously, “We should probably get going...”

Applejack ignored her. “Since when are you into Dungeons and Dragons?” she asked Trixie.

“Oh, your little dragon-thing introduced me to it when I was staying in Canterlot a few months ago.” Trixie stepped out of the doorway and walked up to the pair with a practiced casual gait. “I mastered it immediately, of course.”

“Wait, you were playing with Spike?” said Applejack, “He never told us he had another group.”

“Didn’t he?” Trixie grinned, “Must have slipped his mind.  He showed up in Canterlot after that ‘incident’ that was in all the papers, looking for whatever dregs he could scrape together to play with him.  Pathetic, I know.  I took pity on the poor thing, thought I would grace him with my presence.”

Applejack fumed.  “That... little... sneak!” she said, stamping her hooves furiously, “All that talk about how it was too dangerous to play with Derpy around, and he goes off moonlightin’ on us!”

Trixie grinned again.  “Appropriate choice of words, considering the guest of honor.”

“... Luna?” Applejack gasped, “All this time he said he needed to work on his campaign, and he’s been sneakin’ off to play with the princess?”  Applejack paced back and forth, snorting. “How long has this been goin’ on?  Is he still doing it?”

“Well, that I can’t tell you.” said Trixie, “I outgrew their little group a few weeks ago.  Haven’t seen them since.”

Applejack stopped pacing.  She looked Trixie in the eye, her lips curling into a grin.  “They kicked you out, didn’t they?”

“No!” Trixie shouted, suddenly enraged, “Nobody kicks out the Great and Powerful Trixie!  Trixie kicked THEM out!”

“Sure, sure.” Applejack smirked at her, “I bet they got sick a’ your crap and tossed you on your backside.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Trixie stared her down, “Well, I’m surprised you even play a game like Dungeons and Dragons.  I’d have thought it involved too much ‘fancy mathematics’ for a brainless little hick like you.”

“Why, you rotten...” Applejack started.

“Hahahaha!” Pinkie interjected, smiling desperately, “Boy, that Trixie is such a kidder!  Come on, AJ, let’s get going and...”

“SHUT UP!”  they both yelled at her in unison.  She sat down, stunned.

Applejack marched up to Trixie until they were face-to-face.  “So you think you’re better’n me, is that it?”

“I KNOW I’m better than you.” Trixie sneered, refusing to back down, “At everything in general and this game in particular.”

“Care to prove it?”

“Any time, any place!”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?”

“Nothing!  I’ve got everything we need in my trailer!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Without another word, the two marched into Trixie’s trailer, slamming the door behind them.  Pinkie was left alone outside.  She sat in stunned silence.  A cold breeze blew by, rustling the leaves around her.  She stared down the path.  The exit leading back to Ponyville was just visible over the next hill.  

“It’s not fair.” she said, her voice almost a whisper.  A heavy sigh escaped her lips.  Briefly, she imagined herself climbing the stairs to her apartment above Sugarcube Corner, drawing a nice hot bubble bath, maybe having that slice of cake she’d been saving, before collapsing into her bed.  She looked at the forest’s exit again.

The door to the trailer swung open and Applejack stuck her head out.  

“Pinkie, are you comin’ in or not?” she said, then ducked back inside, leaving the door swinging open.

Pinkie glanced around nervously in the gradually fading light of the forest.  She took a deep breath to steady herself, then climbed into the trailer, shutting the door behind her with a tiny click.