Gatling Rain on a Steam Filled Morn

Night were...Emotionless right now. Standing on a ledge, overlooking the Dutchman as it were being tethered to simple stalagmites in a cave. All she really could do was stare. Twice, the Dutchman came for her. Twice she's seen it, now.

"So, seeing as you haven't hurt me, I'll just cooperate so long as I'm tied, just to make this go by faster. I wanna get home so I can eat, I'm getting hungry."

"Do you know what my name is?"

"Pfft, no."

"It is Nightmares and Sweet Dreams. Do you know what a nightmare is?"

"Yeah. Just a bad dream you can wake up from."

"No. This is a nightmare. The moment I tied you up with magic, you're life became a very real nightmare. You're not going home."

"I will struggle and fight back any chance that I get, then. Any chance to get away."

"Look at me.", Night knelt before the young bat stallion. "I am a simple bat mare. With a not so simple hand.", she held her artificial limb to see. "I'm missing a limb."

"Doesn't seem like that to me. What're you gonna do? Cut my arm off, replace yours, then kill me? If so, make it quick, because I'm growing impatient."

"You're not gonna die. Ever. See, this metal hand is going to help make my point. You ever heard of the Dutchman?"

"No."

"That's absolutely terrible. Because this is going to be the worst day of your life. Something soon will bite into you. Eating you alive while you scream in agony and pain, terror and panic. You will feel every metal tooth sink into your body. And it won't be sharpened, it won't be a saw, and they may very well have no edge what so ever. Because pretty soon, machines will eat you. Or rather, part of you. See that ship?", she pointed to the Dutchman. "That is the legendary ghost ship, the flying Dutchman. I'm trading you as payment to her captain to get to the Great Eastern Rift as quickly as possible. You will be welcomed aboard, held down, and one of her crew will start eating you like some crazy cannibal. And that isn't even the most terrifying part."

"Cool story. Does it have an end?", the stallion remarked smartly.

"Yeah. Soon. It ends with me and you parting ways. The most terrifying part of this story isn't even the fact that every single one of the dutchman's crew is made of abominations of living people and mix matched machinery. No. The most terrifying part is that every bit of this nightmare is real. You're not going to wake up in your bed with blankets damp from sweat, you're not going to see all of this terror and agony washed away in one fell swoop."

"You're really trying to make this sound very real..."

Night turned on her heel, cupped her hands around her mouth, and screamed out at the top of her lungs...

"Davy Jones!!"

No answer came, but it echoed off of the large cave's walls. The Dutchman, in all of her terrifying glory, stirred for a moment before lighting up a wicked green on her deck. Jones himself appeared by a bright green flash just a few paces away...

"Ye called, lass...?", the ancient captain asked.

Night knelt before the young stallion again, holding up her artificial limb one more time. "See this hand? Imagine it being a chunk of random machinery from an engine. Or random machine. You're not going to be so lucky. You might have a piston through your chest. A gearbox for a shoulder. Half your head may very well be a simple hydraulic for a doorway. The worst part is...you're not going to die. Ever. That's the curse of the flying Dutchman.", she stood up. "Payment. One way trip to the Great Eastern Rift. One able bodied new crew member."

Davy chuckled lowly. Sinister and evil. Then snapped the bony fingers of his real hand, turned to actual skeletal bones from centuries of age. Two more of his crew appeared, brutes with arms made of pistons and machinery, both in green flashes. And they quickly grabbed a hold of the stallion, disappearing again.

"How satisfied ye be ta make a stallion like that fear the 'process' ten times more?", Jones asked.

"Rather satisfying. But I did it for purposes I'm not entirely sure about.", she turned her emotionless gaze to Jones. "I had a scare recently too. You came for me. Took my arm. I thought it actually was a nightmare, because I had been poisoned. Passed out right as that...'process' began, it would seem..."

"Someone stopped me crew...Someone saved ye."

"And his name is Cloud Waltz. The very definition of a hero. This previous event is emotionally scarring. Enough so that a mare who actually tends to her coiled emotions would not be doing what I'm doing, should she have gone through what I did. but I'm now facing my fears, staring the worst of them all down. Eye to eye..."

Jones burst into hearty laughter, that which you would expect from a pirate. "Eye to eye be right! I lost me other centuries ago ta time!", he continued laughing. "Arrrrr, it be some time since I laughed genuinely so. Tell ya what, lass. Since ye gave me three crew members, and got me ta smile, ye're now on me good side. Not so much to say for anyone else existin' in this 'ere world. So. One not-so-free trip ta the rift, and a friendship with the Dutchman. Whaddaya say, lass?", he offered his metal hand. Impulse almost made her take it.

Night narrowed her gaze on him. "I don't trust that this would be a simple handshake or a simple friendship."

"That's because this be nay a simple handshake. Or friendship.", Jones turned his open hand upwards. He simply allowed the text of the magic that were involved to show, and lines of ancient magic trailed around his hand en masse. Like watching a swarm of random characters make up countless spells. "This be magic that be ancient. Found in an ancient temple. Made by the ancient. Fer the ancient.", he closed his hand, whisking away the text. "If'n ye want to know, I'll tell ye exactly what this does. Ye would ferever belong ta the Dutchman. Ye would ferever be cursed! but ye would be cursed like me. Ye can never die. But ye can grow old. And, seein' as you have artificial limbs already, ye d'nay have ta go through anythin' gruesome, or be given some cursed piece o' metal."

"Sounds like nothing more than reason after reason to not take the offer."

"Any time ye call fer help from the Dutchman, she be there. Any time ye need somethin' done. she be there. Any time ye need someone taken care of. She be there. The Dutchman's curse, fer her captain, and anyone he calls quartermaster, gives them all the advantages of the Dutchman. I even made a pamphlet!", Jones pulled a very old and degraded piece of paper from his withering coat's pocket. It ripped, and part fell away, he just laughed as he balled it up and tossed it. "That was a joke worth makin'. That offer be open ferever. If'n ye ever want ta be a quartermaster o' the Dutchman, simply shake me hand."

"Not worth it. Something is happening in the Rift, and I need to be there as soon as that ship can get me there. I am in no way to make demands, but I myself would say that the assassin of the pirate king needs to be alive when I get there."

"Hmmmm? Someone killed Jolly Roger? Hahahahhhhh!", he laughed. "This I didn't know. And what business d'ye have with his killer?"

"She's a friend, and while I don't care for her, someone I know does, and I have a promise to myself to uphold."

"Fair enough. If'n she be dyin' in the rift, they be hangin' her. The old fashioned way. And if she be the murderer o' Roger 'imself, then they nay be hesitatin' ta move her date o' execution up. Take me arm, grab me wrist. If'n ye grab me hand, ye will seal the deal. Quickest way to me ship is through magic...", he held his hand out limply. Night grabbed his wrist, and he twisted his own, grabbing hers in turn. the next moment, pure green light filled her vision, shortly replaced by the sight of the Dutchman's deck.

"All hands on deck!!!", Jones commanded. "Haul in the lines, we be leavin' immediately!!"

And just like that, the lines, rather than being untied and pulled in, were cut, the engines kicked to life, and the Dutchman departed....