> Judgment of Carrion
>  by Verlax
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Judgment is Sealed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The wind howled like a wounded beast as the HLS Sea Flower plowed through the crashing waves. Captain Tidebringer turned his hardened face towards the west, looking at the storm clouds racing towards his ship. He turned the steering wheel to the starboard, the boards of the Sea Flower groaning in protest. She would hold, she always did. He had to trust his beloved, just as he trusted Sharp Eye up in the crow's nest to lead them all to safety.

The Sea Flower was a clipper belonging to the Horseatic League, referred to by some as simply the Hansa. Even though it didn't possess any actual land or standing army, and wouldn't normally be called a nation at all, its economical and political might made it the biggest trading empire in this part of the known world. The word of the ruling council was law on the seas, and none dared to go against them in fear of economical backlash, him included. Besides, it wasn't the first time he worked for the League, and they always paid handsomely for delivering their goods.

The wind picked up and Tidebringer had to pull his captain's hat deeper onto his head. The waves crashing against the Sea Flower produced thousands of droplets that soaked everything on the deck, including his wings. He tried to ignore the cold while attempting to estimate the course of the ship with his compass, all the while controlling the steering wheel and dishing out orders for his crew at the same time.

The sailors under his command were doing a commendable job at keeping the vessel in good condition. They made sure the sails didn't rip and that the riggings were okay, fighting the wrath of the North Sea, the most dangerous waters on this side of the equator as only true sea wolfs could. The long trek however, coupled with exhaustion and lack of sleep made their movements seem rigid, as if they weren't living ponies but pieces of clockwork machinery that needed to be wind up soon.

"Sail ho!" Sharp Eye's cry came from the crow's nest, barely above the roar of the waves. "Direction south-west, one and a half mile!"

"Their status?" Tidebringer cried back, craning his head high.

"Can't see any movement, Capt’n! Seems they've lost several sails but they're not signaling any problems! No flags, no lanterns, nothing!" The spotter's voice seemed perplexed despite the howling winds.

Tidebringer was put in a tight spot. On one hoof he was obliged by contract to get to Flankfurt before the winter ice cap would block the port, and he was still a ways away from the city. However, the Sea Codex clearly stated that he was duty bound to aid any vessel in need of assistance. Then again, the unknown vessel didn't signal for help, so he could theoretically get away with not helping them if he wanted to follow the letter of the law. Anyway, he had to make a decision quickly; every second he was losing on deliberations the storm was getting nearer, and in a few minutes it could be the Sea Flower that needed help.

"Crew, get this tackle in order! Bosun, lower the sails! Turn on starboard! We're gonna see what's going on there!" The captain decided, already adjusting the course and struggling against the steering wheel.

"Aye, aye, Capt'n!" Tightrope, the Flower's boatswain acknowledged and started to give out orders to the other sailors. The pegasus captain watched his crew at work, readying the ship for a sudden change in course. As the waves now crashed against the larboard of his ship, Tidebringer couldn't help but feel proud of his fellow ponies.

The Sea Flower ripped through the furious waves of the North Sea with all the swiftness and cunning of a sea gull, gliding above the surface of the cold, raging sea. But just as the crew was getting used to the constant tumult of the tides it all stopped. The sea was as smooth as a tabletop, and the roaring wind calmed to barely a whisper, the Sea Flower's sails now only barely rippling whereas moments ago they were swelling dangerously under the strength of the gale. It was as if they have found themselves outside of the storm's reach, but for it to end so abruptly was unseen. Still, Tidebringer let out a sigh of relief as he shook the ice-cold water out of his feathers, thankful for the moment of calm. Wings were really annoying when you had to sail the open sea.

As the captain raised his head again to look at Sharp Eye's post, he noticed her leaning out of the crow's nest, looking at him worriedly.

"What is it, what did you see?" He asked, now a bit spooked himself.

At first she didn't answer. It seemed like if Sharp Eye was trying to come up with a way to break him some news that weren't all that good.

"Well, good news is that it seems that the storm will pass further south and avoid us." She started. "The other ship however… It looks like… like…"





All the experience in the world couldn't prepare Tidebringer for what he was witnessing; the mysterious vessel Sharp Eye has spotted was like nothing he had ever seen before. The hulking mass of wood and ropes was undoubtedly a East Indiapony, its masts reaching high into the sky yet looking strangely naked with tattered scraps of sails flapping lazily in the wind. A line of gun ports could be seen through its length, but none of them seemed to house any actual cannon, giving the impression that this was more likely a military-turned-trade vessel. But what really caught the attention was the overall state of the ship.

The ship seemed old, older than any Tidebringer had ever seen. Its boards were rotting and decayed, their original color unrecognizable, some of them missing altogether. The riggings were in such poor condition that it was surprising it was still able to support the masts; large fragments were missing, and those that remained seemed to hold only by a thread. But the most unsettling was the absolute lack of any movement. No crew seemed to be on deck and no sound came from the vessel, as if it was abandoned long ago and since drifted on the open sea, miraculously avoiding being sunken. With no sails and under no flag, with its crew seemingly missing it looked like a corrupted ghost ship from legends.

"Capt'n!" One of the sailors, Tough Judge, tried to gain Tidebringer's attention, pointing at the side of the mysterious ship. "I think I found the name of the ship, but there's something fishy about it."

The captain trotted towards the deck hoof and looked at where he was pointing. True to his words, Tough Judge was pointing at a huge plate with a greenish inscription on it. It was barely visible due to the advance state of decay, but once Tidebringer brought out his spyglass he could make out what it said. In bold letters the name of the ship was written for all to see.

Judgment of Carrion

"That's odd." Tidebringer muttered to himself. "There's no ship prefix."

While not required by any sort of law, most naval vessels possessed ship prefixes for ease of identification, directly linked to the nation under which flag they operated. The Sea Flower for example had the HLS prefix, proclaiming it a Horseatic League's Ship for all to know. The lack of a prefix however could mean one of many things. Private ships often didn't possess those, as well as lesser trading vessels. It could also mean something completely different, such as…

"Pirates?" A murmur began spreading amongst the crew.

"Doubtful." Tidebringer shook his head. "And even if it was it's in no condition to pose any serious threat. The East Indiapony is completely useless in a fight –it has no cannons, its sails wouldn't propel even a lifeboat, and its hull is so damaged it wouldn't survive a proper buck. Besides, the North Sea is too traitorous for pirates to operate freely. Maybe it was used for smuggling."

"Still, if it ain't legal we should set sail for Flankfurt. We ain't got no business helpin' smugglin' vermin." Boatswain Tightrope reasoned. "Dunno 'bout you, but this whole 'Judgment of Carrion' looks like it would crumble to pieces if ya were ta step on board."

"And you came to the conclusion I would give an order to board it how exactly?" The captain eyed Tightrope curiously.

"We've sailed fer how many years? Ah like ta think Ah get ta know ya a bit. Yer a curious fellar, Capt'n, and this 'ere ship just reeks of mystery." The boatswain's face became grim. "Ah wouldn't go on this ship Capt'n. Ah get a strange feelin' just by lookin' at it."

Tidebringer gazed at the Judgment of Carrion again. He had to give it to Tightrope, the old naval ruin indeed looked like it would fall apart any moment now, and just looking at it made his skin crawl. He fought off the shiver however, finding solace in his strong sense of duty, the same sense that lead him to so many a headache over the years. At the very least Tidebringer thought of himself as a pony of honor, and he would be damned if he didn't do something.

"True, it is foreboding, I'll give it that. But think of it like this: what if it's not a smugglers ship but a trading vessel damaged by the storm? It's crew may be hiding under deck and may be in need of help. We have to check it."

"But Capt'n!" The whole crew started to lament. "We don't wanna go! What if it's dangerous?!"

Tidebringer looked at the desperate faces of his crewmates. Their tones seemed to indicate fear, but their eyes showed something else entirely. Some of them were casting sideway glances at their neighbors, exchanging conspicuous winks and smirks. One of them, Sticky Hooves, was looking at the captain with a grin plastered on his face, mouthing something inaudibly. He looked like he wanted to say something to him, something like 'You know full well what's this all about'. Wait… Oh! So that's their plan, those snidely twits.

"Let me put it this way: if the Judgment is indeed abandoned, I'll… turn a blind eye when it comes to securing any abandoned equipment and other goods. How does that sound…"

"We're in!" As expected, the whole crew was now the epitome of enthusiasm.

If asked Tidebringer would be the first to admit that convincing his crew to accompany him by allowing them to loot the ship wasn't the most honorable thing he ever did. However, it served its purpose. Sighing, he looked at the Judgment of Carrion one more time. For a brief moment he thought that he heard the echo of hoofsteps coming from the deck of the foreign vessel, but he dismissed the notion as his mind playing tricks on him. Shaking his head, he ordered his crew to prepare to board.





"Ponies!" Tidebringer looked over the sailors from the deck of the Judgment. "Remember: our main priority is to find any survivors, or if that's the case then their bodies. Only after we confirm the ship's abandoned are you allowed to secure valuables, not the other way around! And what in the blazes is that smell?!"

The air on the ship was nothing if not stinking, the nauseating stench so strong that even an experienced sea wolf like Tidebringer had a hard time keeping his lunch in. Most sailors were used to things smelling bad, be it rats, filth, dirt, or the occasional swelled up body of a floater, but this was on another level entirely. It was as if the ship itself was rotting to the core, putting the "Carrion" in its name.

"The crew must be hiding below deck." The captain reasoned, not seeing a single soul on the main deck. "Alright, you know the drill. We're going down there, and try not to look like a bunch of buccaneers." He ordered, eying the small group of ponies he took with him.

Tidebringer decided to take only five of his men onboard the Judgment. Of course, Sticky Hooves just had be the first to volunteer, no doubt planning to rob the ship of any single shiny trinket he could get his hooves on. Along with him there were also Tough Judge, Ironshoe, and the brothers Red Hammer and Gold Sickle. All of them were equipped in lanterns and had a hatchet, both for utility purposes and for self defense. After all, there was no telling what they were going to find onboard the mysterious ship.

The doors leading to the lower deck were partially open, beyond them a small ladder. Tidebringer gingerly stepped inside and went down, looking carefully around the corridor. There was something strange about the way it looked, something the captain couldn't quite place. It was as if everything here was strangely… distant? He couldn't find a better way to describe it; the wooden cabins seemed not to belong here, seemingly out of place yet exactly where they should be. It was as if he was looking at a dream, as if he somehow stepped into another dimension entirely, a parallel universe so alike to his own yet strangely different. There was something in the air here, something other than the overwhelming stench and far more foreboding. Tidebringer couldn't shake off the feeling that he was somewhere he shouldn't be, in some sort of eldritch mockery of the waking world.

His five companions didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, or they were hiding it better than he did. Out of the six ponies on deck Sticky Hooves seemed the least affected, though if it was thanks to bravery or stupidity was up to debate. He descended the wooden ladder quickly and started to look around, all the time grinning like a foal in a candy shop.

"Last time I allowed them to loot anything." Tidebringer muttered.

As they went along, searching for the ship's crew, they began noticing something strange. Each and every cabin they entered was empty. It wasn't just that they were abandoned, they were completely devoid of anything. No tables, no cots, no nothing. Once or twice they found a pile of rubbish in them, maybe remnants of long wasted furniture or cargo, but aside from that there was nothing. And that continued throughout the whole floor.

Sticky Hooves was steadily losing his good humor. It slowly downed on him that what he at first assumed was going to be a veritable gold mine was shaping to be anything but that. This rotting bark didn't have anything worth looting, just a bunch of useless, worthless junk. His only hope was that he would find something on the lower decks, and even then he wasn't that big of an optimist. Why did he have to volunteer again?

They were descending the ladder leading to the lower deck, Gold Sickle taking up point. Not a minute after he got down a loud crash echoed through the corridor, followed by a loud curse curtsey of the stallion. His companions, realizing that something must have happened quickly got down and one by one were greeted by something far more terrifying than a tripped over sailor.

Gold Sickle was pressed against a wall, a steady stream of rapid curses escaping his lips. His wide eyes were glued to something on the ground, not five feet from him. Shining their lanterns on the mysterious object the five sailors stumbled back in shock. There, on doors that seemed to have fallen from their frame lie the form of a unicorn, horn sprouting from its forehead. It was… impossible to determine anything conclusive about it, be it its color or gender. The body was rot-ridden, decaying in a gruesome fashion, not from the passage of years but from something far more horrible. It bore the signs of leprosy, an advanced stadium of the illness, flesh ridden with decay that bit right to the bone. Its coat was completely gone, its naked skin dotted with suppurated wounds, some of them still festering with infection. It lacked large chunks of its flesh, hooves almost separated from legs due to rot and decay, like if dissected by the plague itself. Its eyes were gone, leaving two empty, bloodied holes in their wake, staring into nothing with two maggot-ridden eye-sockets. Tattered remains of what once must've been a uniform lie scattered on the floor or glued to the carcass by its own blood and puss.

"Sweet Mother of…" Tough Judge managed only that before he twitched violently and threw up on his own hooves.

"Sonuva…" Red Hammer breathed out. "This aint no ship in need of help, it's a bucking Yellow Jack! Let's get out of here!"

"Not so fast!" Tidebringer halted the stallion before he had the chance to backpedal. "The ponies on this ship might've been infected with something, but we still need to check for survivors. We just need to be careful with what we touch and we'll be fine."

Reassured by their captain's words the sailors composed themselves and went towards the next door, giving a wide berth to the dead unicorn. Sticky Hooves however didn't follow them right away. He waited until the captain vanished behind a bend and with a gleeful smile moved to the body.

"Can't believe how blind they are." He smiled greedily. "Goner has some gold chompers we won't be using anymore. Looks like Lady Luck has finally smiled to me."

He carefully opened the dead pony's jaw and one by one, using his hatchet he pried them out. Grinning, Sticky collected the loose teeth with his hoof and bolted in the direction the captain went, trying to catch up to the group.

He didn't even notice that one of the teeth had accidentally pierced his skin…





"Alright ponies, last deck. If nothing's here than we're going back onboard the Flower." Tidebringer ordered.

The six sailors made their way to the bottom deck of the Judgment of Carrion. Nothing really changed during all this time: the ship still looked like it was rotting in front of their very eyes, and aside from some more junk and the occasional dead body they didn't find anything. There was however something that felt awfully suspicious to the captain.

First of all, the number of bodies didn't make much sense. A ship of this size had a bottom crew limit of thirty sailors at minimum, yet after adding up all the deceased they happened upon there was hardly even ten of them. Either they were going to find a literal pile of bodies somewhere here, or something was definitely fishy about all this.

Then there was the issue of where they found the corpses. There was no logic behind their placement, as if they were laid out at random. They found a body in a storage compartment, at least four lying on the corridors, and a few more locked in cabins. Yet what was most disturbing was that they didn't find any lying in hammocks. One would think that the ill would be bed ridden, or at least kept in beds by the healthy, if there were any, but that wasn't the case. To make it even more bizarre they happened upon a room that wore signs of battle, and two bodies, each of them leprosy-ridden and with hatchets sticking out of them.  Were the ill fighting each other? Maybe mutiny? Just what exactly happened here?

Lastly, Tidebringer couldn't pinpoint how old the ship was exactly. East Indiapony were relatively new vessels, but the level of decay suggested that it drifted for some time now. She sheer magnitude of destruction and putridity contradicted everything he knew about ships. It all didn't make any sense!

Tidebringer shot a look behind his back, finding his "trusty" companion Sticky Hooves smirking at him.

"Any luck in acquiring… half-legal cargo?"

Sticky shook his head. "Nope. This place's a wreck, Capt'n."

Tidebringer was sure the dolt was lying, but that wasn't important right now. Without a word he checked another cabin, only to find it empty like the rest. His patience was wearing thin. At this rate this whole escapade would prove to be a pointless waste of time, and that of course spelled trouble. Once the high up's in Hansa realize his transport to Flankfurt was delayed they'll demand to know what happened. He'll have to report to the Captains' Council, have to answer a bunch of pointless questions to some anonymous penpusher, only for the whole thing to be filed somewhere in the endless mess bureaucracy was, forgotten for years, and his wage cut in half as "punishment for endangering the good name of the League". He already felt a massive headache brewing, and the constant rocking wasn't helping. Luna curse the tides, he was so sick of it all…

A sudden sound pulled him out of his musings and almost made him jump out of his skin. A terrified shriek pierced the near total silence, making his blood run cold. He knew that voice, it was one of his ponies. Red Hammer! He was crying in pure terror!

In less than a second Tidebringer bolted out of his room in search of the stallion. His horrified shriek was coming from several cabins ahead. Running down the corridor the captain almost collided with Gold Sickle, Red's brother, who was trying to get to his sibling as fast as possible. The two stallions ran side by side, and they both tackled the door behind which Red Hammer was open, bursting inside in a shower of splinters.

Red Hammer was huddled in a corner, curled in a ball, hugging himself, and shaking like an autumn leaf. With wide eyes he stared into space, as if he saw something that shook him to his core, mumbling to himself incoherently. Tidebringer cautiously approached the stallion, Gold Sickle inches behind him.

"Red, are you alright?" he asked.

"Gold…" Red Hammer barely whispered.

"It's me bro, I'm here. What did you see?" Gold Sickle sat beside his brother.

"Gold…"

"Talk to me, Red! This is important!" he begged.

"Gold… circling the infinite abyss, twin pools of pure nothingness within the sea of gold… gold…" At this point Red Hammer was wheezing, curling even more as sobs began rocking his body.

Tidebringer took the time to scrutinize the cabin in hopes of finding whatever scared the living daylight out of the stallion. He looked around the whole thing, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. The only explanation he could come up with was that the aura of this place has finally gotten to him, but that didn't make any sense. Just what in all the fury of the North Sea was going on here!?

"We're leaving. Now! If any of you looted anything, throw it away." He ordered, panic beginning to creep into his voice.

"It's but a tiny dot… a tiny dot… gold all around, but this tiny dot… it holds the blackness of all black, the shadow of all shadows… gold…" Red Hammer, still sobbing, was whispering loudly to himself, beginning to rock back and forth.

"Sticky! Start being useful for a change and help me carry this poor fellow." The captain snapped at the sailor.

"Oh… err… Aye, aye, Capt'n!" He nodded swiftly and helped Tidebringer with his task.

"It'll all be fine, I promise!" Gold assured his older brother.

"Fine… is the powder the world crumbles into…" was Red's last words before he lost consciousness.

"How are we supposed to get him up the ladder…"

"Shut up and move!"





The Sea Flower's crew was anxiously awaiting the return of their comrades. It was already some time since the captain went on board the Judgment of Carrion, and nopony has seen neither hide nor hair of him. By the time lunch came, most of the crew was on deck, worriedly watching for any signs of their return.

They didn't expect for them to return like this.

The door leading to the lower decks of the Judgment flew from their hinges as Tidebringer bucked them open. The captain quickly cleared the way for the rest of the expedition, four stallions carrying the unconscious form of Red Hammer between them. Without a word they crossed the gap between the two ships, and then promptly collapsed, exhausted from carrying their companion.

"Take him to the medic!" Tidebringer ordered. "Bosun, set course for Flankfurt, full sail! We're leaving!"

The ponies set of to work without a word. The urgency in Tidebringer's voice was all the motivation they needed. Within moments the Sea Flower departed from the East Indiapony's side, leaving the rotting ship to its own fate. The wind was picking up again, tides following suit, crashing against the boards of the vessel. The Judgment of Carrion quickly disappeared from the captain's view as the Sea Flower sped off to its destination, making him breathe a sigh of relief.

> Judgment is Executed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Forty-four candles were alight.
Here comes the dreadful blight.
One of them was burning red.
A different one was soul-dead…





It was yet another calm, cold night that awaited Tidebringer. Standing at the helm and measuring the location of the stars with his sextant, he tried to fight off the chill of the northern air, a futile battle while on the North Sea. He couldn't concentrate on his task, shivering all the time, his teeth chattering. But it wasn't the only thing that distracted him from his work. Truth be told, he couldn't properly concentrate on anything for over a day now.

With his mind's eye he was constantly returning to that floating wreck, that Judgment of Carrion, and what they had found on it. Whenever he closed his eyes all he could see was that abandoned ship, its lumbering shape swaying with the tides, or the lifeless, rotting corpses of its crew. It was as if the image was burnt in the back of his head now.

The sound of flapping wings brought him out of his revere. Tidebringer glanced up to see Sharp Eye leaving her post in the crow's nest, flying towards him. By now Rough Night must've climbed the riggings and relieved her.

"Bet ol' Night wished he was a pegasus right now. Poor sap just can't take the rocking." She grinned cheekily, only to shudder from the cold gale.

Tidebringer studied her for a moment, letting his mind wander. Sharp Eye was a peculiar mare. The only other pegasus onboard the Sea Flower, and the only mare in crew in general, she was without a doubt the most trustworthy pony on the ship. She was a real gem; she knew her way around the ship like the back of her hoof, had so much raw talent that she could easily put to shame most experienced sailors, and to top it all off she had a sharp mind, making her stand out when compared to the usual harbor rat. Wise beyond her age and optimistic to a fault, Sharp Eye reminded him of his old home in Flankfurt, of the cozy fireplace, warming his bones with its glow and of times when he didn't even think about joining a trade company and commanding a vessel on the North Sea. Just where did his life take turn into for this mess?

"Good to see you there Sharp." He smiled at her. "How was your shift?"

"The usual boring stuff. Sea's as fickle as it always is, with no rhyme or reason to it…" She stifled a yaw. "Sorry Capt'n, didn't have an opportunity to catch some Zs in awhile. By the way, what happened on that ship, what's its name… Judgment of Charon?"

"Judgment of Carrion" He corrected. "And there's not much to tell really. Truth be told, I don't know what happened down there myself, and I was there. Cabins filled with rot and garbage, everything smelling like the underside of a whale… At first we thought it's nothing more than an abandoned frigate. But then Red Hammer just started to scream his head off, and by the time we got to him he was… well, you saw the state he's in. I gave the order to go back and the rest you already know. We didn't find anypony alive, just a bunch of bodies strewn around like discarded dolls. From what we could tell they died from some sort of disease, probably leprosy."

"Leprosy?" She seemed perturbed by that revelation. "No, that can't be right."

"How so?"

"Leprosy needs several years to kill a pony. Even the worst infected live for at least a year before it ends them, and I doubt that old beater was just sailing along for so long. They'd die of hunger before the rot would get them. Maybe it wasn't leprosy but something else, something far more deadly…"

The wind howled grimly, the sails catching the gale. Tidebringer corrected the course, turning slightly to the left.

"In any case I would suggest talking to Dr. Joust once you're done here, Capt'n." Sharp Eye offered while heading to the stairs down deck. "Heard he started doing some research after that "accident" of yours on the Judgment. If anypony can make sense of all this, it's him. He's good with all that "egghead" stuff."

Tidebringer only nodded in response, bringing the sextant to his eye.





The interior of the Sea Flower was a stark contrast to its plain upper deck. The corridors of the ship were brightly lit with lanterns, making navigating them easy, and the numerous decorations carved in the wooden walls were pleasing to the eye. One could almost forget that this wasn't a cruise vessel but a merchant one. Tidebringer would even go as far as to say that it was as close to the way residences in the noble district of Flankfurt looked like as possible. Only the swaying served to remind that it was actually a ship.

The captain stepped in the canteen for a few moments to check on his crew. The cook, Crispy "Oddball" Chips, was in the process of serving another meal to the sailors, all the while rambling about random topics and dishing out jokes only he could possibly get. Understanding his humor was hard at best, and Tidebringer would be the first to say he was sometimes creeped out by his jokes, but at the same time he was the best damn cook in the fleet. Hawing to work only with stored rations that were substandard even before they were loaded onboard, he could whip up not only edible, but actually tasty dishes. Even now the smell of daffodil-cream soup was assaulting his nostrils, immediately making him hungry. But he had more important things in mind right now, food could wait a bit more.

Checking the canteen and not finding who he was looking for Tidebringer nodded at his crew to carry on and went for the next cabin. Opening the door he let himself in, only to be greeted by an angry face and an equally angry shout.

"How many times do I have to repeat myself you scurvy bastards: knock before you bucking… oh, er… sorry about that, Capt'n."

This charming individual was Dr. Joust, the ship's medic and self-proclaimed scientist, and this cabin served as his workplace. Joust was a dark green earth pony with a few gray spots here and there, known throughout the Sea Flower for two things: his undeniable intellect, and unusually short temper. The good doctor had chosen for his laboratory-slash-infirmary the largest cabin he could find. It was a spacious room, filled with medical and scientifically equipment, firmly attached to the floor to prevent it from sliding while the ship rocked. The wall opposite to the entrance had several beds set along its length, only one of which was occupied at the moment. Gold Sickle was standing right next to his brother's bedside, crying silently.

"How's Red Hammer doing?" Tidebringer asked once he recovered from the "greeting", his voice concerned.

Even though Dr. Joust could put on a mask of indifference with little difficulty, the mention of the sailor's name made it falter a bit.

"I'll be honest with you Capt'n: he's not good. Physically nothing's wrong with him, but his psyche is another story. I ran a few psychological tests on him, and as far as my knowledge on the subject goes he completely lost it, and I don't mean like Crispy Chips' kind of 'lost it'." The doctor shook his head sadly. "Red Hammer probably witnessed something so shocking that his nervous system just couldn't handle it and crumbled. He's constantly rambling about this "gold", "eyes" and some sort of "tiny dot of darkness", occasionally he also mentions some sort of plague, but I've yet to understand what he means by that. I thought I could deduce what kind of mental illness he suffers from, but aside from the general "he lost his marbles" explanation I can't say anything conclusive. He also refuses to eat and has to be force-fed, and he suffers from constant nightmares."

"I see." Tidebringer nodded grimly. "Are there any chances that he could get better in the future?"

"Not in the near future, no. And I honestly can't tell if he'll get any better in the long run, my field of expertise does not lie in psychiatry. I would suggest moving him to a mental asylum once we reach Flankfurt, maybe they'll have better news."

A particularly loud sob escaped Gold Sickle's throat.

"I… I understand." The captain said slowly. "Keep me posted on his condition. Also, I heard you made some headway into the issue of the ship we happened upon?" He inquired.

"Oh, yes, that I have." The doctor eagerly greeted the change of subject. "I did a little bit of research already and I can safely say that the Judgment of Carrion was not built in either Equestria or the Commonwealth, and neither did it originate from any shipyard belonging to the Horseatic League. I managed to get a look of the vessel's architecture and what little markings and decorations survived before we departed. I noticed a number of inaccuracies to the standardized form of a East Indiapony, as well as signs of outdated tools being used in its construction. Ergo, the ship was an attempt to imitate a more sophisticated shipbuilding technique by a less technologically advanced society. And thanks to the markings I've mentioned earlier I managed to discern from where exactly did the ship originate."

“Which is?”

“Coltcutta, Hinnarat Empire.”

Silence filled the room as Tidebringer went over those information, trying to make heads or tails of all this. A vessel from Coltcutta was not something he was expecting, and if it really was true what they said about that place than… A shiver ran down his spine. Anything connected to a place with such stigma was best avoided, if not from superstitious fear than from cautiousness alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by Red Hammer, who once again started to rave as if in fever. "It is he, who preaches the word of decay." He whispered hoarsely. "The Messiah of rot, whose power come from what we believe. He is our beliefs personified, for he cannot exist if we don't believe…"

"There's something more, Capt'n." Dr. Joust said, turning Tidebringer's attention from the unstable sailor. "Something concerning the Judgment."

"What is it?"

"A cruise from Coltcutta to Flankfurt can take up a large portion of time, but not enough for a ship to become so damaged." The scholar started slowly. "The Judgment… it looked like it has been drifting for at least several years. But that shouldn't be possible, a ship without a crew couldn't hope to survive so long on the open sea, not with uncontrolled weather and traitorous currents constantly threatening it."

"So what you're saying is…"

"I rightly don't know." Joust admitted. "It defies any logical explanation, and I am not about to believe in superstitions. Mark my words, Capt'n, I'll get to the bottom of this."

Tidebringer was about to commend his commitment to the cause, but was interrupted by a rumble of dissatisfaction from his gut. He couldn't even remember when was the last time he'd eaten…

"Sorry 'bout that." He muttered embarrassedly. "I think I'll go get some grub in the canteen and call it a night. You keep working on that mystery and try to help Red Hammer and his brother as much as possible."

"Of course Capt'n. If I'll find anything you'll be the first to know." Joust nodded, following him with his eyes as the captain left the infirmary.





Sticky Hooves was in his cabin in the lower section of the stern. Locked in his small, private quarter, with a single oil lamp providing dim illumination the sailor was grinning from ear to ear, rubbing his hooves in excitement. He hadn't a occasion to do it before, but now, after his shift was finally over he could go through his booty. Retrieving a small pouch from beneath his cot, he spilled its content on the covers. There, shining brightly even in these poor conditions were the golden teeth he managed to snatch from the Judgment of Carrion. He managed to find five in total, a small fortune considering the prices gold reached back in Equestria. Biting one of the teeth to check its pureness, he grinned even wider when he realized it was without a doubt pure gold.

"And the Capt'n wanted me to ditch this, ha!" He laughed gleefully, imagining what he would do with such a treasure.

Suddenly, Sticky lost his balance as the ship jerked unexpectedly, sending him crashing to the floor. Groaning slightly, he tried to climb to his hooves, only for his front right hoof to give in under his weight. Confused, he tried to lift it from the ground, but found he couldn't get it even an inch above the floor level.

It took the sailor some time, but he finally managed to stand again, using his three remaining hooves. Looking worriedly at his right limb, Sticky tried to make out what could've possibly happened to it. In the dim light of the cabin he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary; the leg seemed to be as it always was, and his coat on it wasn't any different either. Confused, he racked his brain in search what was wrong with it, and then it hit him.

He couldn't feel it. It was as if his hoof was completely paralyzed, numb to the point that it could be called dead for all purposes. It was somewhat as if he had a wooden limb in the shape of his own hoof attached to his leg. He could move it, but he couldn't feel a thing with it.

"Probably nothing to worry about." He thought to himself. "Hoof must've fallen asleep or somethin'. It'll pass away in no time." And with that optimistic thought Sticky Hooves hid the golden teeth beneath his cot again and left for the canteen.





It has been several days since Tidebringer's chat with Dr. Joust, and everything seemed to be looking relatively good. The captain of the Sea Flower was currently leaving the canteen after a quick breakfast, his favorite fur jacket on his back and his captain's cap secured on his head, ready for the day. Climbing the stairs to the upper deck, the old sea wolf was greeted by the site of a sunny, cloudless sky. Not a speck of white could've been seen as far as the eye could see. The weather seemed perfect, or at least he thought so until he looked at the sails.

Alarmed by what he saw, Tidebringer searched for the boatswain. He quickly found him, keeping an eye on a few sailors that were checking the cordages.

"Tightrope, don't tell me we're in a dead calm." He pleaded, as if the bosun could do anything about it.

"Afraid so, Capt'n." He replied, stifling a yawn. "Sea been like this fer two hours or so. Unless ya and Sharp Eye have some love children Ah'm not aware of ta flap us outta here, we ain't budgin'."

Tidebringer shot the bosun a glare and let out a stream of curses like a proper sea wolf, to the great amusement of Tightrope. Still, this was a problem. If the wind wouldn't pick up anytime soon, they would most definitely be behind schedule, and that would mean standing before the Council of Captains, not to mention he would be the laughing stock of the fleet. Why did it have to happen to him?! This was the North Sea Luna damn it, dead calms were as rare here as snow in Saddle Arabia!

"Whatever, just… just do what you're paid for." Tidebringer shot the smirking boatswain one last dirty look and marched for the helm, still muttering under his breath.

"Ya reckon the Judgment was a ghost ship?"

Tidebringer immediately spun around upon hearing this. Tightrope wasn't smirking anymore, his face serious.

"Of course not." The captain stated vehemently. "I know you're superstitious and all, but that's the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard from you."

"Ah reckon we shouldn't a boarded that ship. Right jinxed us it did. An' there's hardly anythin' worse than havin' bad luck on the North Sea." Tightrope seemed to ignore his captain's words. He didn't even wait for any response from Tidebringer, choosing to check on the sailors working on the fore-mast who seemed to have a problem with the halyard.

Casting one last glance at the bosun, Tidebringer shook his head and went for the helm, absentmindedly correcting their nonexistent course.





Only forty-four candles were alight.
A lone one was slowly turning black.
No one can escape this unspeakable blight.
And safety does not come in misfortune’s lack...





Sticky Hooves and his fellow sailors had a prolonged break from their duties. With the Sea Flower in the middle of a dead calm and having completed their work for the day, there was not much left to do. Unfortunately, this also meant boredom. Having to spend their time in a small, confined space, ponies had to come up with creative ways for killing time. Unfortunately, such pastimes like brawling and dueling were banned, and talking with your fellow crewmembers, as amusing as it often might be, couldn't last forever.

Not gambling though. Gambling could last forever.

There was a sad, nautical truth: most sailors spend the majority of their lives on sea earning a small living. This was especially true if one was to consider the typical expenses of a pony of the seas. One had to have money for booze and bribes, and harbor fines were something you couldn't escape as well. That, and brothels weren't cheap. But the most money-eating pastime was by far gambling. It always followed the same pattern: a sailor goes on shore leave, gambles away his pay, then is forced back on the ship to earn more, and so the cycle repeats. That is why the Sea Flower was truly innovative; Tidebringer decided to keep the "gambling" part onboard, so that his crew didn't have to spend too much time in ports. All were happy: the captain, the governors, the port captains…

Sailors, well… not so much.

Sticky Hooves was playing poker with a few of his fellow companions, who were, just like him, a bunch of cheats. They were all huddled around a small table in the corner of the canteen, studying one another as Sneaky Trick dealt the cards.

"Four bits in." Deft Hoof placed the coins on the table.

"Call in and rising by two." Sneaky Trick smirked, adding his bits to the pot.

Sticky was desperately trying to read him. Did he really have a good hoof? You could never be sure with Sneaky, he had a tendency to pull good cards out of his rump… scammer…

"Call in." He finally decided, pushing his own bits to the pot. Not a second later, a loud gasp was heard around the table.

"What?" Sticky asked confused, looking at the disturbed faces of the other players. Then his eye caught what they must have seen, and his face turned pale.

His right fetlock was covered with blisters and open wounds, small trickles of blood mixed with puss leaking onto the surface of the table, staining it red and sickly yellow. It gave off a pungent odor, mixing with the smell from the kitchen into an indescribable stench that almost made him throw up. But the worst part was that he couldn't feel a thing. For a few days already he couldn't feel his hoof, but now, looking at the rotting mess his own leg has become and still feeling like if it was made out of wood, it made his head spin uncomfortably.

“How…”

“What in tarnation…”

The faces of his crewmates were a mix of fear and anger. Sticky was beginning to panic, suddenly realizing that everypony in the canteen was looking at him and backing up, putting as much distance between them as possible.

"Guys, help me. Please!" He begged, his voice quivering. "I have no idea what's happening to me!"

"Stay back!" Sneaky Trick cried, grabbing a chair. "Don't come any closer, or else!"

"Now, all of you pieces of dragon dung just step back! All of you, back I say!" The sailors automatically parted ways, looking with surprise at the enraged form of Dr. Joust. "What do you idiots think you are doing, huh? Back to your posts, or get your sorry flanks into your cabins, now! Nothing to see here!"

The authority of the doctor, coupled with his enraged state was enough to make the ponies leave the canteen, leaving Joust alone with Sticky Hooves. Sticky tried to avoid looking into the physician's eyes at all costs; there was something in them, something that made him feel even more uneasy.

"Sticky Hooves, am I correct?" The doctor asked, getting a silent, terrified nod in response. "Show me your hoof."

For a second Sticky considered not showing the doctor his fetlock, but concluded that at this point hiding it was pointless. He extended his right front leg. Dr. Joust carefully glanced at it, studying the injured limb closely.

"Do you feel anything in it? Touch, pressure, temperature, pain, anything?"

The only response he got was a shake of Sticky's head.

The doctor adopted a thoughtful expression and for a moment just looked at the clearly rotting limb. After a moment of silent deliberation he pulled out a scalpel from the pocked of his lab coat and brought it towards the terrified sailor's fetlock.

"I want to make sure what we're up against." He explained eerily calmly, making Sticky go rigid with fright. "This will hopefully hurt, so I suggest you close your eyes." But Sticky was to terrified to do even that. Staring unmoving at the scalpel in Dr. Joust's grip, he watched as the physician made a shallow incision on the injured tissue. While he was sick to the stomach by the site of his rotting fetlock, now with an additional trickle of blood and diseased matter trickling from the new injury, he didn't even blink as the cut was made. It was as if he lost completely all feeling in his leg, and it frightened him out of his mind.

"Okay, we're done." Dr. Joust said, his voice sounding grim. "Sticky Hooves, I have no idea how or why, but somehow you have an advanced case of leprosy. I'm sorry."

Sticky could finally move, only to find himself slumping to the floor. He felt as if the whole world was crashing down on him, the dreadful revelation taking away all his hope.

"For now, you'll be staying in the infirmary… no, scratch that. We can't risk this spreading. After I run some tests you'll be staying in your cabin for the rest of the cruise, and after that… well, we'll see." The doctor decided, leading the poor, devastated pony to the lab. The unmistakable stench of rotting flesh was following the pair.





Captain Tidebringer trotted about the infirmary nervously. Doctor Joust was at hoof's reach, clearing his equipment. There was something in the face of the doctor that made Tidebringer fell uneasy from the moment he stepped inside. Something must've been terribly wrong.

"You wanted to see me?" He asked hesitantly.

Joust turned to face him, his face grim, and nodded. "Yes, indeed I did. I fear we have a serious problem on our hooves."

The captain gulped. When Dr. Joust got like that, it never meant anything good. Tidebringer braced himself for whatever it was the doctor had to say to him.

"One of the sailors has leprosy."

Okay… he wasn't prepared for that. Tidebringer looked at the doctor incredulously, as if expecting this to be some kind of stupid joke, but Joust's face said a completely different story.

"Are… are you sure?" The captain asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Truth be told, I think it's even worse than that." The doctor seemed unsure. "I made some research and cross-referencing, but the results… Well, the leprosy bacteria or whatever causes this illness is different somehow, more vitriolic. Usually, it takes the disease up to a few years to give any outside symptoms, before a pony's body starts to rot. In this case however, leprosy incubates far more quickly. I wouldn't even call it leprosy if it didn't have the same symptoms."

"Who's ill?" Tidebringer asked disheartened.

"Sticky Hooves."

Wait a moment… Sticky was one of the sailors that went with him onboard the Judgment of Carrion. But that would mean… Sweet mother of Luna…

"I decided to isolate him for the time being." The doctor continued. "He's locked up in his cabin and has food delivered to him from the canteen. I don't have the slightest idea how this happened, but we need to brace ourselves. The situation doesn't look good."

Tidebringer tried to wrap his head around this revelation, to find some sort of logical explanation to what was happening on his ship. His thoughts were however interrupted by shrill, crazed cry.

"It comes not from this world, but from another dimension! The concept of being is false… truth lies in beliefs…" Red Hammer started to trash around, hyperventilating as he raved on. Dr. Joust hurried to his side and injected him with some formerly prepared sedative.

"Wait a second." Tidebringer's eyes widened in realization. "Something's not right with Red Hammer."

"Well obviously; he's completely insane." Joust grumbled, keeping a hoof on the mentally ill pony's barrel, keeping him from trashing as the sedatives kicked in.

"No, there's something beside that." The captain shook his head. "I know Red Hammer, I know him well. He's… he was completely brain-dead. He was thrown out of primary school. That's the main reason he's a sailor, it was the best job he could get with what little knowledge he had…"

"I don't get it. What's your point?"

"My point is that Red Hammer doesn't even know what "dimension" means, he doesn't know the word even exists! Talking with him for any prolong time was like waiting for an argument between the working class and the bourgeoisie."

The two ponies exchanged a look, both of them coming to the same unsettling conclusion. They only just realized, that they stepped into something far more mysterious than they could ever imagine.

"Tidebringer." The doctor managed a hoarse whisper, his eyes mirroring his dread. "What exactly did Red Hammer run into?"





Minds of ponies are fragile to the point
That even one’s health can to madness join
The souls of all of them shall be gone,
For the next candles shall be no more...





Boatswain Tightrope along with a few of his crewmates had just ended their shift and headed for the canteen. After a whole day of work the sailors were looking forward to the prospect of a meal, and as always, Crispy Chips did not disappoint. Munching on a tomato and salt sandwich, his favorite, Tightrope noticed that a group of the ponies that ended earlier that day sat huddled together, casting weary looks at the rest.

This caught his attention. There was an air of uncertainty around them, and the look in their eyes spoke of some kind of fear they were trying to hide. As boatswain, Tightrope's responsibilities covered not only the clearly utilitarian part of running a ship, but also the morale of the crew and respecting the laws on the ship. Whatever they were trying to hide, be it a fight they participated in or plans of mutiny, he had to at least try and coax those information out of them.

"Howdy there y'all." He greeted, trotting to their table and taking a seat without asking. "Y'all look like somepony has died. Somethin' happened while Ah was busy?"

The sailors exchanged surprised looks.

"You mean you don't know?" One of them asked, to which Tightrope shook his head no.

"Sticky Hooves got terribly ill. The doctor locked him in his cabin." A second one supplied, looking grim.

Tightrope was surprised at that… no, he was terrified. He realized something, and his superstitious mind came up with the only logical explanation.

"Good gravy… the Judgment really was cursed." He whispered. “No doubt it’s all Nurgleth’s fault.” 





A few days after the revelation of Sticky Hooves being infected Tidebringer found himself at the helm. The dead calm ended just yesterday, giving way to a strong gale they could use to their advantage, and the captain was sure to make the best of it. Steering his ship for the last couple of hours, the captain was desperate to make up all the lost time, even if it meant staying up all night. The Sea Flower was piercing the tides, almost gliding above the North Sea, reaching speeds unprecedented.

"Land ahoy! Port side!" Came Rough Night's cry from the crow's nest. Immediately Tidebringer pulled out his spyglass and began checking the direction in search for any landmass. It didn't take him long to find it.

It was a small speck of land, no larger than a few square miles. It was a dull black color, almost impossible to spot in the darkness of the night, yet here and there its surface glistened in the moonlight like a finely cut gemstone. This land, although never colonized because of the traitorous shallows and jagged rocks surrounding it was an important navigational point, one that made Tidebringer smile to himself.

"Sailors! We've reached Black Peak!"

Ponies working on the night shift upon hearing this let out a cheer. Black Peak was the first sign that they were nearing their destination, Flankfurt, and it also meant that despite all the tribulation they were going to get there on time. The old continental island jutting out of the sea like a beacon made out of basalt and obsidian has never been such a welcome sight.

Tidebringer let himself join the cheerful celebration, if only briefly. His calculations were thankfully correct, and the wind pick up just at the right time. Who knows, maybe he'll even manage to avoid reporting to the Council. That would be one less problem he would have to face. He could already envision it: the Sea Flower was going to dock in Flankfurt Port, the Pearl of Northern Equestria, its flags waving in the breeze. He would be congratulated on yet another successfully completed contract and would get his fare share of bits. And then? Then he would take a looooong shore leave, that's what he'll do. He had just about enough of abandoned ships, mysterious illnesses, and crazy crewmembers. Maybe he should visit Canterlot? He never was in the capitol before. Yes, a few weeks in an expensive hotel, living like a noble and not worrying about anything, that sounded really nice right about now. And if he ever had to come back onboard he would be sure to pick a contract leading him somewhere warmer. Maybe the Mediterranean Sea?

As he let his mind wander, Tidebringer almost overlooked something. From the corner of his eyes, the captain noticed something strange above Black Peak's hill. He sailed this waters many times and passed the island on numerous occasions, but there was something different with it somehow. Out of curiosity, the captain stared at the black, barren rock for a moment.

And it stared back.

Out of nowhere and only for a split second, two mysterious objects appeared above the hill. They glinted in the night sky with a golden hue, like two points of light amongst a sea of darkness. Tidebringer's breath was caught in his throat as a sudden wave of panic washed over him. He stumbled back in shock, blinking as he did, and where once two eye-like points hovered there was nothing but starlit sky.

His heart pounded like mad, but was slowly slowing down. The captain took a couple of deep breaths and began repeating to himself, that it was just a trick of the light, that moonlight reflected in the mirror-like surface of obsidian and that's what he saw, not some sort of eldritch abomination. He reasoned that his mind was tired after twenty hours of non-stop work, and that it all was just a hallucination his sleep-deprived brain concocted. Yes, that must be it. He only needed to endure a little longer until Tightrope came for his shift and he would hit the hay. Nodding to himself, Tidebringer adjusted the course and tried to take him mind off of it.

Unfortunately for him, a part of his mind knew this was no trick.





Dr. Joust was in his cabin, trying to relax after a grueling day of work. Red Hammer was still raving, and he started to have nightmares again, but at least he calmed down a bit, partially thanks to the sedatives he was on. The doctor was beginning to fear that his condition was going to steadily become worse, and that by the time they got to Flankfurt he was going to be too far gone for help. Throwing those thoughts out of his head for the time, he sipped his rum-spiked tea absentmindedly. Unfortunately, his mind had other ideas.

His thoughts wandered to the topic of the Judgment of Carrion. For days now Joust was desperately trying to make any sort of headway with this mysterious ship, but for the love of Luna, he couldn't come up with anything conclusive. A East Indiapony from Coltcutta, his crew missing, drifts along the North Sea. Onboard they find naught but rotting corpses, victims of one of the oldest plagues. But it didn't make any sense. The ship should've sunken long ago, and there was not enough bodies for even a skeleton crew. It was as if someone had set it up there, a death trap waiting to be sprung, but it was crazy to even think something like that possible. But there was something more he felt, something that he was overlooking the whole time.

And then it hit him. The Judgment, the whole ship. From what Tidebringer told him and what he could observe from the Sea Flower, the whole vessel was rotting. But it wasn't normal rot. Now he understood it, the Judgment of Carrion, it somehow rotted like flesh. What formerly he though smears of tar was actually decaying puss, what seemed to be moss and kelps clinging to the boards was in fact discolorated, festering planks. It was like nothing he had ever seen before and contradicted everything he knew, but somehow he knew. He knew it to be true. He would have to look deeper into this, try to scientifically explain this phenomena. He would be sure to secure a place on the next ship sailing this direction. He had to know.

He was brought back from his revere by a faint voice. He almost overheard it initially, but now that he realized it was there he could hear it.

“Help…”

It was too faint to understand, but it was a voice nonetheless. Intrigued, he got from his seat and moved to the doors of the infirmary.

 “Help…”

There it was again! The doctor began navigating the now empty corridors, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. Most of the crew was either in the canteen or on the main deck, so he wouldn't be bothered by nopony.

"Help me!" Now he could hear it loud and clear. It was Sticky Hooves' voice, coming from his cabin. Realizing that and now understanding what he was saying, Joust bolted to his door and quickly unlocked it. Without pause he stepped inside in a hurry.

"What's going… Holy buck!"

Dr. Joust took an involuntary step back, his eyes wide with shock. He saw Sticky not a few hour ago, giving him a check-up. But back then he looked normally. Now… Sticky's entire body was covered with blisters and wounds, blood and other bodily fluids pouring down every inch of his body. The stench coming from his body was unbearable, and to the disgust of the doctor, parts of Sticky's body seemed to completely rot off and now lie on the floor. He lost all of his hair, clomps of them spread out on the floor and stuck in the various pools of vile-smelling liquids. Despite all this however, the sailor was smiling an unnerving, crazed smile. Only after a moment did Just realize, that his face was twisted by the illness, paralyzed in a mockery of a grin.

This was only a part of a bigger picture, a picture, that defied logic itself with its existence. For not only was Sticky Hooves rotting before his very eyes, so too did the cabin. The wooden boards of the ship had a sickly green hue to them, the cot looked like a clump of discarded, rotting elephant skin. Even glass was covered in black puss, not stained but pouring from within itself the vile liquid. Everything here smelled of rot, decay, and death, a stench so overwhelming that it could  stun an unsuspecting pony.

"Help… please…" Sticky groaned, begging for help. His paralyzed face muffled him, and his lungs, now a bile of decaying flesh allowed him barely a whisper.

Doctor Joust did the only rational thing in this situation. As quickly as he could he jumped out of the cabin and slammed the door shut, locking it again. The surprised and betrayed groaning cries of Sticky Hooves filled the air as he desperately banged against the door, but they fell on deaf ears. Joust was by now far away, running like a pony possessed.





Judgment is Executed
None shall escape my horizon
And for every buried son
My ravens shall be fed
Of candles red and black
For I am on the final track
Only thirty-nine candles were alight.
The final days are coming tonight.





"This can't be happening! Do you understand?! There is no bucking logic behind it! Bucking none! No disease behaves like that!"

"I don't give a single buck about that! Do something! You're a freaking doctor!" Tidebringer shouted in rage and despair, trotting around the infirmary helplessly. It was a day since Sticky Hooves… became what he was now, and the situation only gotten worse from there. "There's something wrong here, several new victims out of Luna bucking nowhere, and you tell me that there's nothing you can do?!"

"It's because it doesn't make any sense! This… thing just broke every single law of epidemiology ever invented, not to mention the entire medicine once it was at it!" Joust too began pacing. "Plagues don't just come out of nowhere. They don't spread like this! I'm asking again: what exactly happened onboard the Judgment of Carrion?"

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two ponies, none of them knowing what to say. The seriousness of the situation was overwhelming. Not only was Sticky Hooves basically a trotting clump of rot right now, but the first signs of similarly advanced leprosy began appearing on Gold Sickle's, Tough Judge's, and Ironshoe's bodies. The rest of the crew was paranoid, the morale at an all-time low, and as if he didn't have enough problems already, Tightrope was spreading his superstitious propaganda. He could barely command anypony at this point, the crew on the verge panic, and only thanks to his organization skills and the help of Sharp Eye was he able to keep them in check and continue on their way towards Flankfurt.

"Ha ha… I think I hear it!" The silence was shattered by the sing-song voice of Red Hammer. Surprised, for they both thought he was under heavy sedation, Joust and Tidebringer turned to face tha mad pony.

"A basic concept… What would happen if that what we believe in became true?" Red Hammer was looking at them, smiling from ear to ear. "The incarnation of beliefs indeed, the form of the plague collapsed into being… eyes of pure gold, consumer of worlds… the Messiah's voice shall sound in the emptiness, and we shall rot in his rage-filled grace…"

The two sane ponies looked at one another.

"You have to be kidding me." The doctor said, shaking his head. "No such thing exists."

"Joust?" Tidebringer asked softly. "Do you have any idea what to do in such a situation?"

Silence was the only answer he got.





Only three candles were left
The rot started from a theft
It shall end in the whimper
In the form of last whisper	





The HLS Sea Flower no longer deserved its name. Flowers are lovely. Flowers smell nice. They are a symbol of beauty.

The Sea Flower was none of the above.

What was once one of the many merchant vessels sailing the waters of the North Sea was now, after but two and a half weeks from that faithful day a shadow of itself. It rotted to the core, its sails and lines blackened, its boards a thing of nightmarish decay. Nothing was exempt from the touch of the blight, no pony was left unaffected. Half the crew fell victim to leprosy, their bodies decaying at a frightening pace. Those unaffected refused to work, locking themselves in their cabins. Boatswain Tightrope completely lost his mind to his fear, and in a panicked delirium he reasoned that by killing the only doctor they had and throwing him into the sea he would appease the Gods of the Sea, making them lift the curse placed on them. Fortunately for dr. Joust, the more reasonable sailors stopped him before he could go through with it and instead threw the bosun into the icy waters. By the time Tidebringer came on deck the boatswain was too far to save him, meeting his end in a watery grave. If circumstances were different, Tidebringer would make swift justice, but with the crew actually capable of work stretched thin he knew he couldn't do anything.

Even the Sea Flower itself knew on some level, that it ceased to be. The decay ripped the golden letters forming its name from the sides, leaving it blank and rot-ridden.

Sharp Eye was one of the few sailors that were still fit to work and willing to do so. She abandoned her post on the crow's nest and helped where she could, trying to keep the ship in one piece as Tidebringer maneuvered it during another storm. It was a daunting task even with a full crew, but now, when there was less then twelve ponies at work, it was nay impossible.

"Capt'n!" She tried to shout over the hauling winds. "I think I spotted land on port board! We've reached Northern Equestria!"

"Good!" Tidebringer acknowledged with determination. "If we get to that blasted port I'll kiss the dirt three times!"

"But Capt'n!?"

"What is it Sharp Eye?"

"Do you really think we even should reach Flankfurt?"

His first reflex upon hearing that was to tell Sharp Eye that it was the biggest nonsense he had heard since the government's decision to increase tax on alcohol. Why shouldn't they reach Flankfurt? But then realization struck, and a strange, terrifying thought found itself in his head.

Plague, leprosy spreading through the snow-ridden alleys of Flankfurt, claiming soul after soul. None would escape its cruel grasp, the rotting bodies of the dead would litter the streets, piling ever higher having no one to burn them down, for they too would be amongst the dead. The government would panic, quarantines, revolts, famine would surely follow… And it would spread, by Luna it would spread. The once lush green plains of Central Equestria would become desolate wastelands as thousands… no, millions of ponies would die in agony. All because one ship brought the plague with them.

Something clicked in his mind and Tidebringer knew what to do.

"No…"

The mare looked at him curiously.

"Sharp, take the helm." He ordered, leaving no place for "buts".

"What are you planning?" She tried to ask as she grasped the wheel, but she didn't get a response. Tidebringer was already gone, heading below deck.





"Capt'n? Where are you goin'?" A sailor asked, only to have to jump out of the way as Tidebringer sped down the corridor.

"Out of the way!" He roared, barreling right past him.

The ship's interior was slowly turning from brown to black, the rot ever spreading, conquering deck after deck. He ran into its putrid bowels however, heading for his personal cabin. Even here everything was in a state of decay, that's why he didn't sleep in it anymore, but it was still his cabin and he still kept some of his things in here. He never would've thought he would need it, but now, as clarity came, he knew he would have a use for it.

He burst inside his cabin, going straight for the small chest in the corner, ignoring the black puss pooling on his floor. He kicked the chest open and rummaged through its contents. Casting aside maps, compasses, books and personal belongings, he found it at the very bottom.

He retrieved a simple hatchet, like the ones his sailors used. This one however was more important to him than any other. He had it since he was in the navy, since he was a simple sailor scrubbing the decks on other captains' ships. Clutching it in his teeth, he sped out of his cabin, swaying as the ship suddenly lurched. Regaining his balance, he continued to his destination.

The hold.





Darkness filled the hold of the ship, making maneuvering it difficult without a lantern. Tidebringer tried to navigate the endless maze of crates with goods he was to deliver to Flankfurt, searching for the right spot. For some reason the decay that destroyed most of the ship didn't reach here, as if making sure the ship would not sink before its time, but that was about to change.

He wanted to punch a hole here so that the whole ship would meet its watery doom.

He made his way to the center of the hold, preparing his hatchet, but he hesitated. Something caught his eye, something that shouldn't be here. The deck wasn't completely dark, there was light in here. Tidebringer turned around to see it.

On the floor gathered in a small bunch was forty-four candles. All of them had burned out, expect two which glowed a strange, unnatural red light. But that didn't make any sense. Why would someone light candles down here, where a fire could easily break? And why forty-four? Wait a moment… forty-four was the number of ponies serving onboard the Sea Flower. But that meant…

He spun around.

From the shadows two small golden spots stared at him, paralyzing him in the spot. Only after a moment he realized, that they were not spots however, but eyes, filled with hate and contempt, with silent, cold rage wanting nothing more than to do him harm. They seemed to glow with an unnatural light, but that was only a illusion. Tidebringer could see that what little light there was, was being in fact sucked into those golden orbs of hatred, entering two dots holding the darkness beyond all dark. It was like staring into the abyss itself, staring in the face of madness, in the face of something, that cannot be.

The shadows thinned, revealing the owner of those golden orbs of hatred. It was a pony, or at least once it was one. Its body was covered with wounds and decay, with caked blood and fresh puss. It undeniably suffered from leprosy, but it didn't seem too concerned about it. It was obvious that whatever it was, it was not what one would call alive, for some of the wounds on its body would be grievous for any living being.

Tidebringer desperately tried to avert his gaze from the monstrosity in front of him, but he couldn't. Some primordial force prevented him from doing that. The creature, the monster was far more powerful than he could ever conceive possible, and its simple will could force him to stare into its golden eyes of oblivion.

“I̜͎͕̺͉ ͙s̰͖͉̦̹̭̬e̮͈͉̝n̬͙͙͙͡s̡͎̩̬̱̱̫e̛̠̫͚ ͏͔̙̞e̹͔̯̦͈m̮͚̻̣͘p̛͕͚͓͕t̞͔̟́ͅin͙̼͖̺͜e̡̖̙s̠̣̳͞s̹̮͉̯͎̠͔ ͍͖i̵n̩̩̰̹̕s͝ị̢d̫̥è̖̭͚͓ ̹̰͓̪ý̤̣̜͚͕̭o̯u̻̜̯”

The creature's voice was booming with power, crushing his sanity with each syllable it uttered. The being stepped forward, it's trice-damned carcass-like body looming ominously ever closer.

“L̸̠͔̥̥͚e͈͙͞t͕̞͟ ̨̱̝̬͖̣̯m͞e̛͎̺ ̴̬̯̝͙͈̫f̺̰̩̰͙̯̕i̫̤̭̖̘̠ļ̲l̰̳̺ ̵̬̰͓̫i̛̠͎t̥̟̹̞̰͠ w͘i̦̕ͅt̰hͅ ̺̟d͠e̪̘at͎h̟͙”

Tidebringer cried for the last time in his life, his voice slowly fading away. The two last candles flickered and died, bathing the hold in silent shadows.

> .̵̢͝͠.̷̕͘҉͏.͘͜͝͠
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The village of West Port was a peaceful place. Ponies here worked primarily in the lumber mills, the pines this region was overgrown with providing ample building materials, both for shipbuilding and house construction. Besides, providing a city as large as Flankfurt with wood was a sure way to earn some coin. A peaceful place indeed.

Or, at least it was usually peaceful.

Right Blade was woken up from his slumber by the sounds of some sort of commotion going on in front of his cottage. Grumbling, he stood from his bed and went for the door.

He was greeted by a crowd of ponies, most of them his coworkers from the lumber mill, arguing about something. He was about to ask what was going on, then he noticed something on the coast. A frigate, a huge friggin frigate made landfall on the coast, cutting deep into the sandy beach and becoming stuck. It was old, completely rotten, and looked like it was going to fall apart if somepony as much as looked at it the wrong way. Shaking his head in disbelief, Right Blade approached the crowd gathered in front of his cottage.

"What in tarnation is going on?!" He asked.

"Hansa." One of the older workers at the lumber mill said sagely. "When in doubt, blame Hansa."

"Well, he's actually right." Iron Hoof, the village elder nodded. "The ship does look like one of them trading vessels of the Horseatic League. Wouldn't be surprised it has the HLS prefix."

The gathered crowd agreed with the elder's wisdom.

"Well, no reason to dawdle. You there, run along to Flankfurt and inform them that we have a shipwreck on our doorstep. The rest of you, come with me. We have to check for any survivors. Now move!"

The ponies did accordingly to the elder's orders and rushed to their assigned tasks. Soon a group of ponies was scaling the side of the vessel, climbing on deck and looking for survivors. But Right Blade stopped before he even touched the ship's boards. Led by a gut feeling, he looked at the ship's side, searching for its name. Where it should be written however he found only a small plate with a barely legible name scribed on it.



	J̬ͅú̹d̬̼̲͕g͕͚̮̹̫e̸͔͍͙̳̻͎̻m̮͙̠̫̮e҉̤͎ͅn̠̝̪̗̪̞̣t҉̰̗͓̝͇͓ͅ ̧̯̙o͉̝̰̟͙͢f̝̘͓̀ ̢C̡̺̪̘̰̖̫ạ̰̼̯͕̫͟r͉̖r͚̠̳͠io̡̭͈̯̤̩ͅn͍͎