The scene opens on a pirate’s gallon out on the water, a ship worn and weathered but somehow still sea-worthy despite the clear disrepair in its tattered sails and faded wood. On deck is none other than its captain, who stands atop a barrel in a triumphant pose, arms at his hips and chest puffed out… belly protruding toward the salty sea air through his jacket.
“Ahoy me hearties! Tis I, the Swashbucklin- AGHH!”
The barrel gives way below the girthy pirate, causing him to faceplant to the deck.
“Arrggh… f-fuck…”
The masked pirate groggily gets to his feet, brushing himself off and readjusting his almost comically large tricorne.
“Me bad… where was I? Aye!”
He draws his cutlass, regaining at least a shred of his pride with the glint of its steel.
“Tis I, The Swashbucklin’ Hero o’ the Seven Seas, Pirata Aterrador! N’ by me side like barnacles on the haul, me loyal scallywag Lora! Say ahoy t’ these maties!”
He gestures to a stuffed Parrot perched via Velcro on his shoulder. Lora is silent.
“Aye… ye don’t natter no more. ANYWAY! MASQverse, long ‘ave I sailed the coast o’ Masqopolis, waitin’ fer the day I could once again set me eyes on the greatest treasure o’ ’em all, the one found in the ring. While it seems most o’ ye ‘ave forgotten wha’ I stood fer, ye shall be quick t’ remember dat I be no bilge-rat on the seas or squarin’ off wit’ ye land-lubbers! I ‘ave braved many dangers, from rouge raves t’ sea monsters… ‘n ye may be the biggest o’ ’em all, Martillo Negro de la Muerte!”
Pirata blinks, lowering his cutlass.
“Aye, mighty big indeed… ‘n vicious. ‘n nigh unstoppable, ‘n… I shouldn’t be doing this. I mean look at my big ol’ gut! How can I possibly outrun that monster? This was such a big mistake! I shoulda listened to that bartender-“
His despair is interrupted as he presses his ear against the Lora’s felt beak, as if hearing a whisper.
“You’re right Lora… but do ye ‘ave t’ be so ‘ave such vulgar tongue? Yargh…
This strange captain reaches into his jacket and pulls out a flask, taking a swig of its contents. In a moment, his demeanor shifts.
“LOOK IN ME EYES MARTILLO! These eyes be dat o’ a cap’n nah afeared o’ starin’ down into Davey Jones’s Locker! When ye feel me offense, ye will feel as if a cannoball has launched into yer middle! An’ I will be the one t’ collect the bounty on yer head dat Uncle Slam n’ all the knights ye’ve brought woe upon ‘ave fer yer defeat lest I be a scurvy dog!”
“So ready yerself Martillo, fer while ye might feel seasick once I bring ye out t’ open waters… Prata Aterrador be always ready t’ SET SAIL!!!”
A triumphant raise of his cutlass brings an end to Pirata’s message.