Edited by:
Blazinblade7
More crashing and roaring came from above as I entered the belly of the beast. I continued on with my part of the plan, putting aside my worries about the fact that my friends were risking their lives to give me time.
Better get a move on then.
I encountered a problem early on though. I didn’t actually know anything about the layout of ships so I wasn’t sure if the path I was taking would lead me towards the brig or the kitchens. Therefore I had adopted the tactic of ‘If in doubt, follow your nose.’ Sniffing the air once, I set off in what I hoped was the right direction down a narrow flight of stairs.
Around three minutes later I stumbled upon the kitchen. Guess that’s what I get for following my nose, especially when I’m hungry. Over by a large cooking pot, an earth pony busied himself throwing various vegetables into a soup, seemingly oblivious to the battle that raged outside. Since he was so wrapped up in his work, I chose not to disturb him and simply stole a couple of apples off of a shelf near the door.
What? I was hungry.
Taking a bite out of a large, juicy green apple, I carried on my merry journey through the ship, abandoning my nose in favour of just randomly guessing where the brig was. This turned out to be a much better plan as, barely a minute later, I almost fell down some stairs that led to a much darker level of the ship. Judging from the putrid smell that was wafting up from there, this must be the brig. Also, if the United Nations saw this place they would have a field day. I’m willing to bet that this prison isn’t up to code according to the Geneva Convention.
Do ponies even have a Geneva Convention? They would probably have it turned into some terrible pun anyway.
The Colteva Convention? Nah, that’s terrible.
With a hop, a skip and a bloody quick fall, I stumbled down the tiny stairway into the darkness of the brig. Thankfully, the stairway wasn’t very long so my fall was not overly painful. Still rather embarrassing though, at least Iron and Summer didn’t see that. As soon as I picked myself up, I heard a cruel voice echo throughout the shadowy hallways of the extensive brig.
“Not such a big stallion now are ya?” The voice sneered out. In response there was merely some coughing and spluttering. “Just a washed up old fool. No family, no ship, no working legs. What can you do now?”
“Can still spit on you.” An older, gravelly voice responded followed by the sound of spit flying and a wet splat as it impacted on its target.
“Agh! Ya senile coot! I’ll kill ya!” There was thumps, and the sound of hooves hitting flesh echoed through the hallways.
I began to move warily towards the sound, one hand reaching behind my back for where my knife was concealed. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to use it. But I wasn’t about to let an old man...stallion be beaten to death either. If the choice was between killing a torturing coward or letting Summer’s dad die...
Well, I hope I don’t have to make that choice.
The sound of beatings given and the pained grunts of beatings received grew louder as I travelled through the grim hallways, getting louder and louder as I approached. Finally, a dull light appeared near the end of the corridor. Flickering orange candle light shone out of one of the cells, the music of violence clearly coming from within. As quickly and as silently as possible, I approached the cell, leaning around the wall and peering in to assess the situation.
The most immediately apparent thing in the room was the form of two stallions, one beating on the other. The first, Swift Storm judging by the beard alone, was hung from the ceiling, chains wrapped around his forelegs. He looked almost nothing like the strong, confident family stallion that I had seen in the picture back at his home. His light grey coat was covered in dark spots, be they bloodstains or bruises I could not tell, and his whole frame was weakened, emaciated to the point where he appeared almost skeletal like. The legs that were chained to the ceiling seemed to hang loose in their sockets, whilst his rear legs were clearly broken, one of them even had bone sticking out of an ugly wound. His chest, no longer the broad barrel that it had once been, now had ribs poking through in a grisly display of the effects of starvation. Throughout all this, the devastation that had been wrought on his mortal frame, he still had a fiery defiance in his eyes. This stallion was far from broken.
The other figure was his tormentor. A dark grey unicorn who, disregarding his magical powers, had opted to use his hooves on his victim, smashing them again and again into Swift Storm’s chest and face. A sadistic grin pulled back at his muzzle as he inflicted brutal pain upon the chained stallion. As I watched he pulled away, panting heavily from the exertion. He lit his horn and levitated a knife close to him, admiring the blade of the cruel instrument.
“Now then, I’ve saved the best for last. Captain Gang Plank wants your little trade secrets and, whilst that fool Thick Skull is far too direct to get anything but broken ribs, I am a far more patient pony. I’ve saved the best for last you see. Your wings. I’ve heard tales of how you have used your wings as sails to assist your boating, to traverse the sea as none have before you. I’m going to take them from you now. If you would be so kind as to scream for me, that would just make this moment so perfect.”
I couldn’t stand around listening anymore. As the torturer closed in, his eyes and his blade shining in the candlelight, I rushed forward, recklessly trying to stop the batshit crazy sadist. My charge, heroic though it may have been, was immediately hampered somewhat by the sneaky length on loose manacle that had managed to wrap around my leg and trip me up. Obviously it was enchanted in some way to be deliberately malicious to anyone who comes near it because there is no possible way I could be that clumsy.
Of course, this had the effect of turning my brave rush into more of a slightly gallant stumbling followed by an extremely valiant head-over-hooves roll. In short, rather than tackling the torturer like a burly Welsh rugby player I instead fell over him like a distinctly less burly American rugby player.
No, I won’t call it American football. In football you use your feet as the main ball-handling limb. It’s in the name.
The stallion yelped as I slammed into him, dropping his knife to the ground as we rolled over each other. He tried to throw me off and I, using my superior tactical knowledge, clung desperately to him and shouted loudly in his ear. Shouted; not screamed. This eventually ended up with us in a rather compromising position with me lying atop him, breathing deeply, whilst he looked up at me, his eyes shimmering with hope. I was about to make a witty one-liner about him not being my type when I noticed something was missing.
Where’d my knife go?
It was probably on the floor somewhere, dropped during my totally graceful tumble. Doubt it mattered really, as I had apparently found a better solution to stabbing ponies. Seduce the guard, such a simple trick and yet it always seems to work in movies. Truly a classic. Judging by the look that the stallion had in his eyes, he was very much into me...or maybe he was just into people who took control. Either way, this should work out quite well.
It was then that I located my knife.
The moment it flew from my hand it had evidently flew through the air with unerring accuracy, as if guided by some divine hand, straight into the torturer’s crotch. The thrashing as we fought hadn’t been his attempts to dislodge me but was rather his random flailing about in pain. The shimmering in his eyes wasn’t brought on by hope or lust, but the tears caused by the incredible loss of something precious. Despite his technical affiliation as my enemy, I still felt kinda bad for the guy. I quickly hopped up off of him, looking down to assess the damage.
“Maybe if I pull it out real quick?” I mused.
“No! No! Don’t do that!” The pained stallion screamed.
“Well I can’t exactly just leave it in there.” I replied.
“Get a medic then!”
“Sorry, don’t know any. Also, I’d rather my presence here wasn’t announced. You see, I’m also kind of here to break out this prisoner and well...it would be a bit embarrassing if I were caught. Professional standards, you know how it is right?” The stallion whimpered some more in response. “Yeah, you understand. I could lose my thief license if I get caught by a bunch of scum-sucking pirates - no offence - not to mention any pride I might have in my work.”
I was babbling a bit now but I don’t think I could be blamed for this. I’d just stuck a knife in a stallion’s junk, I was feeling a little guilty.
“C’mon...stop torturing the poor fellow.” A deep voice coughed out from behind me, causing me to turn around. “So you're here to rescue me eh?”
“Yup! Summer sent me.” I exclaimed, happy to not have to look at the newly made eunuch anymore.
“Summer...she came back?” He said, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. I was getting much better at recognizing tears lately, wonder why. “Still...she couldn’t find anyone better?” He glanced round at the mess I had managed to make of the rescue.
“Is there something wrong with my rescue?” I asked archly. “Perhaps you would like to stay in those chains whilst I go back and find someone else?”
“Nah, that’ll be alright laddie. Get me down would you, my legs are killing me.”
Complying, I walked over to the injured torturer and, apologizing to him once more, grabbed the keys off of a belt that was around his barrel. I quickly freed Swift Storm and grabbed him as he collapsed out of his chains, the weight of him nearly driving me to my knees. Huffing, I balanced the cripples pegasus on my back, careful to avoid injuring him any further. Thankfully, Swift Storm still had his wings and used them to relieve some of the load on my back with the occasional flap of the flight appendages.
“You ready to meet you daughter now?” I asked of the old warhorse on my back.
“Just a moment, I’ve got one more thing to do first.” Saying this, he reached out with a wing towards where the torturer was still whimpering on the floor. Wrapping the surprisingly dexterous appendage around the hilt of my knife, he yanked it out with a vicious tug. The stallion immediately began wailing in pain once more, blood flowing freely from his horrific injury.
“There, now I’m done.” Storm said as he handed my knife back to me, which I cautiously accepted and replaced in its sheath.
“I have an idea,” He announced after a moment. “But we’re going to need to make a detour.”
“Is this really the time for sightseeing? We need to get out of here.” I replied, beginning to move off in the direction of the exit. I felt a hoof collide with my head as Storm punished my disobedience.
“Listen to your elders boy.” He grumbled before sniffing the air once more. “We need to go that way, to the left.”
Doing some grumbling of my own, I reluctantly set off in the direction he had pointed out, heading down another flight of narrow stairs to arrive at a room absolutely full of wooden barrels. They were piled high around the room, some restrained in place by rope whilst others rolled freely on the floor. The most immediately noticeable thing about the room though was the overpowering stench of alcohol that pervaded every nook and cranny. The potent smell stung at my eyes, forcing me to blink rapidly to clear them of water.
“Is this rum?” I asked, inadvertently allowing the sharp stench to invade my throat as I did so. I felt drunk just being in the same room as all this alcohol.
“Aye laddie, and port of course. This be the pirate’s booze stash.” Storm said happily, seemingly unaffected by the smell. “We’re gonna blow it sky high.” He finished, as though he were announcing that he was going out for a nice walk in the park.
“Excuse me?” I coughed out. I was no stranger to blowing stuff up when the need be, but antagonizing the already pissed-off pirates more by blowing up their ship and their rum seemed like a bad move to me.
“You’ve got to understand something about seafaring stallions boyo.” He said, as he urged me over to one of the nearby barrels. “This ship will be more than just a vessel to a lot of them. It’s their home, their livelihood. Blowing it up will strike a major blow to their watchamacallit...morale! Aye, their morale.” He knocked on the barrel a few times with one wing, evidently pleased with the response he received as he had me lever the cork out of it.
“What about the pirates on board? What about that stallion we left in the brig?”
“What about ‘em?” He replied. “They wouldn’t hesitate to kill you, why should you care so much about their welfare?” He took a gulp of the port in the barrel, swished it around his mouth before spitting it out. “Besides, most of this is crappy cheap stuff, I doubt it will burn very well.” He has me check out another barrel, this time smiling upon tasting it. “Ah! Sailor Merry! This’ll produce a jolly spark. 92 proof, that’s the good stuff.”
“We can’t just go blowing ponies up!” I continued to protest.
“Why not? It’s much easier than hitting them all...though it does lack that personal touch.”
“But...what about the death?”
“What death?” The old stallion spat out. “There isn’t enough good quality rum here to cause even the smallest explosion. Still, we should at least be able to burn the ship down...though it won’t be the quickest of blazes. Shame that.”
Well that was good news, at least everyone should be able to escape alright. Still, playing with fire was never the smartest of ideas, everyone knew that. Everyone except Swift Storm apparently, who had managed to find a piece of cloth that he had proceeded to soak in run and jam into the top of one of the casks of rum.
“There we go. Now then, got a light?”
Sighing, I pulled out my box of matches, most commonly used for lighting my pipe, and carefully lit the end of the soaked rag. As it ignited, we began to hurry out, not wanting to be anywhere near the ship when a real conflagration began.
As we emerged onto the top deck, blinking slightly in the harsh sunlight, I let out a relieved sigh as I noticed that the pirates had all left the ship. My relief was twofold as it meant they wouldn’t burn to death and I wouldn’t have to fight my way through them whilst carrying Swift Storm on my back. Things are starting to look up.
I carried Storm over to the front edge of the ship, looking down to assess the situation below. Looks like Summer and Iron had got themselves into a spot of bother. The pirates forces; pegasi, unicorns and Earth ponies were all closing in. Although many members of their crew were already down for the count, they didn’t seem to be willing to relent and were slowly closing in on Iron and Summer’s position.
Propping Storm further up on my back, I began to jog over to the gangplank, hurrying down it as quickly as possible, fully aware that at any moment flames could appear quick of my heels. I let out a quick sigh of relief once we had reached the safety of the stone dockside. Good luck getting me now fire.
Almost as soon as we reached safety, there was an extremely concerning ‘fwoosh’ sound from behind me. Turning around, I couldn’t help but notice that the ship I had occupied less than a minute ago had adopted a rather drastic change in appearance. Mainly flames. Everywhere. There had been some flames when I’d gone below deck and there had been slightly more when I’d come up again, probably the result of Summer, which I don’t think is covered by the pirate’s insurance. However, with the addition of Storm’s molotov barrels of fun down below, it had quickly evolved into a raging inferno. A noticeable raging inferno at that.
“I may have underestimated the strength of that there rum...” Storm mumbled
The pirates who had been harassing Summer and Iron span round, mouths gaping, as they watched their ship burn. I noticed other ponies round the dock, who had apparently been too terrified to come out before, poke their heads past curtains or around walls to witness the ruinous power of fire.
As we watched, silent in awe, two figures stumbled out from the ship. The first looked like the chef I had come across earlier and he sprinted past his slower companion and dove gracefully into the sea. It was clear who the second was, even from this distance, as he appeared to be holding onto his still bleeding crotch as he stumbled around. He hobbled as quickly as possible over to one railing of the ship, probably because his tail was on fire, and threw himself over into the cooling water of the sea. That is to say, the cooling saltwater of the sea. The moment his wound hit the water, he let out a blood-chilling scream of pain, causing every pony, minotaur, griffin, Diamond dog and satyr for miles around to wince in shared pain, regardless of gender. Still, at least his butt wasn’t on fire anymore.
I turned to look at the demoralized and terrified pirates, who were now both homeless, jobless and very worried about the continued security of their crotches. I could see in their eyes that it wouldn’t take much to make them run now. Opening my mouth, I was about to send them fleeing just like I had done with the Diamond dogs, when another voice beat me to it.
“Run.” Swift Storm said from atop my back, his gravelly voice carrying through the silent air.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The pirates immediately turned tail and ran, scattering in whatever direction they could find either a ship, a job or a mother figure to hug their fear away. All in all, a damn good day of work here.
“C’mon, let’s go meet my daughter.” Storm spoke up again, the smile easily recognizable in his voice. I happily complied, sauntering slowly over to where Iron and Summer were removing themselves from their cover.
Yup, a damn good day.
Two days later, and approximately twenty-three miles up the coast from Manehatten.
Banjo was not a very good Diamond dog. He was smaller than all the other members of his pack and had so far not managed to even take a single pony slave. He would show them all though, his new invention would show them just how good a Diamond dog he really was. He had taken one of the nets commonly used to restrain prisoners out to the sea, which most dogs tended to avoid, and was determined to prove the usefulness of his invention. Fishing, he called it. It would revolutionize Diamond dog hunting tactics, allowing them just to sit peacefully and catch fish rather than having to hunt animals and raid nasty magic-throwing ponies.
Full of hope, he cast his net out into the water, making sure to hold onto the ropes attached to it. He’d already lost a couple of nets that way and he wasn’t about to repeat his mistake for a third time. So far, his experimentation had been met with absolutely no success so he was elated when he felt his net snag on something.
“This is Banjo’s chance!” He shouted, beginning to pull the line in. Whatever it was, it was damn heavy.
He hauled harder and harder on the rope, eventually dragging a soggy bundle of rope and flesh onto land. Hopping swiftly over to it, he cleared away the roped to reveal a dark red stallion pony with a mane that, despite the fact he’d just taken an extended dip in the ocean, still looked greasy. Groggily, the stallion opened one eye and looked up at his saviour.
“You’re gonna make a good slave.” Banjo said with a happy grin that caused the stallion’s eyes to widen.
For Banjo, he felt that his form of fishing had been more successful than he could have ever believed. He never thought that he would be able to catch ponies this way.
For Thick Skull, it was an entirely new perspective on the slavery operation, a side that he had hoped never to participate in. A side he definitely was not going to enjoy.