Hollow Sea

>The salt air nips at your face. You hardly feel it anymore.
>You lean against the rail, staring out at the vast void surrounding you.
>The ocean is wide and dark, as always.
>Neither the sun nor the moon ever rise over this place.
>The royal sisters refuse to allow their light to touch these accursed waters, home to all manner of vile creatures and exiled criminals.
>Night perpetual stretches out in every direction, a moonless night, a starless night.
>The only light comes from the lamps of your ship, plus the occasional glowing buoy, a sign of some other poor soul having passed through this wretched place.
>It's a quiet night. No wind, few waves.
>Quiet, but not calm.
>It wasn't in the nature of this sea to allow recourse from fear.
>In some ways, the dead silence surrounding you was more discomforting than the usual, familiar ruckus.
>Most of the deckhands were down below, playing with weathered cards or choking down the slop from the galley.
>Even the sea-bats were silent this night, their normally relentless screeching nowhere to be heard.
>The quiet is broken by a scuttling along the guardrail.
>You feel little scurrying feet clamber up your arm onto your shoulder.
>"Whatcha doin' all by ya's lonesome up here, Anny?"
>You glance over at your diminutive companion; Abbey, a brown-furred rat, bedecked as always with her tiny hand-sewn leather vest.
>She's one of the crew's engineers and the best friend you have out here.
"Just wanted to take in the sights tonight."
>"What?"
>She jerks her head this way and that, little silver eyes searching for anything out in the water.
>"Did you hit yer head or somethin'?"
"It was a joke, Abbey."
>She props herself against the side of your head, picking at her long incisors.
>You remember when you first met the little rat.
>Outspoken and boisterous, with pink, punked hair flipped over one eye and an adventurous glint in the other.
>Lots of the sailors out here are like that when they first arrive. Defiant of what truly awaits them.
>No takes of daring. No vast riches plundered from sunken ships.
>Just the constant, mind-poisoning dredge of the endless black water and constant threat of death from the monsters populating this aquatic hell.
>She'd stopped dying her hair long ago. Only a few dull, faded streaks remained in her shaggy hair to suggest otherwise.
>The adventurous glint was replaced by the forlorn grayness of daily melancholy and dread.
>You remember being well-kept and ruggedly dashing, long ago.
>How long? Months? Years?
>It's impossible to tell the days apart.
>If it wasn't for the clocks and watches the sailors kept as good luck charms, there wouldn't even be a way of distinguishing the hours from one another.
>Whatever you were, you're the same as all the others now.
>An outcast. A misfit.
>Nobody likes to say it, but they all know.
>None of you are technically prisoners, and some enjoy clinging desperately to the notion that the sisters hoof-picked you lot because they believe you to be exceptional, the only fellows brave enough to face the dreaded darkness of the Hollow Sea.
>But no. You are all here for your own reasons.
>Abbey, you know, was a common street urchin before she got kicked out of her gang and was busted trying to un-sew the gems from some Canterlot elitist's hat.
>As for you, well... the ponies had never quite come to trust a human like you'd hoped they would.
>You'd been mortified, at first, being sent out on this death sentence of a vessel.
>A rusty old steamer, the Lamprey's creaking hull and rattling engine were enough to keep anyone up all night in a cold sweat, just waiting for the whole thing to come to pieces in the middle of the Hollow Ocean.
>As if the immediate threat of flesh-eating sea beasts wasn't enough.
>As with all things, though, time had dulled your worries into apathy.
>Hard to accept that this was your role in Equestria.
>But it was either this or be a 'voluntary' test subject to go under the knife for science.
>At least this way, you'd be able to at least put up a fight before your eventual doom.
>"Why don't ya come on down below?"
>Abbey climbs on top of your head, looking upside-down at you with her charming, crooked smile.
>The fact that she retained that smile after all this time ignites a flicker of happiness every time you see it.
>Whether or not the gesture is genuine, the fact that someone out here was still even attempting to make you happy is a nice feeling.
>"Come on, Anny. Let's hit the sack."
>You give her your own weak imitation of a grin and set off for the metal door leading down into the ship.
>You know it's considerably late, and you feel like you might be able to sleep a few full hours uninterrupted this time.
>As long as it's just the lighter nightmares, you can finally start to work on getting these bags out from under your eyes.
>You descend the sheer wooden stairs, carefully stepping over the spider nest three steps from the bottom.
>Nobody on the ship cared enough to sweep that thing up. Besides, they keep the flies away. And the flies out in these parts have a tendency to bite. Hard.
>The rest of the crew glances at you as you enter the galley, some giving you curt nods, others turning back to their games or idle chatter without any sort of acknowledgement.
>It isn't because you're a human. That's nothing compared to the rest of this motley crew.
> Familiar faces surround you in the ship's galley.
>These are your ramshackle family members, the only beings to ease the madness out here in these trebled waters.
>Not just ponies, out here.
>Some of them are equines, shunned for one reason or another from showing their faces in Equestria, but a good number are foreigners or strange beasts that simply weren't given a chance amongst the horsey hierarchy.
>There are only a few that you can truly call your allies, though; it's rare indeed that a whole boat full of almost-criminals sees eye-to-eye.
>Far off in the corner, whittling away at a large chunk of bleached bone, Longshanks gives you a raise of the eyebrows.
>Despite being the most noticeable one here, the giraffe prefers to keep to herself, away from prying eyes.
>The full contents of the knapsack she keeps close at all times are a mystery to all of you, but you could swear you've seen it wriggle about at night.
>On a rare venture away from the crow's nest, Wharbler is chattering away with Skulldugger, the navigator, no doubt flooding him with crazed reports of what she thinks she's seen out on the water.
>She's a rare example of inter-species mutation; a harpy, elegant and horselike in the front, with large downy wings and bird talons for back legs. Her body from the midriff-back is covered in a thin layer of purple feathers, and she sports colorful avian plumage in place of a tail.
>Supposedly, this is one of the possible results of a pony mating with a griffon, though she claims to be descended from a Haze Valley carrion roc.
>Skulldugger listens to her rambling half-attentively, gnawing on a thick piece of eelhide jerky.
>The sea was the last place you might expect to see a Diamond Dog, and he won't tell anybody exactly what drove him from his den in the first place, but he's proven to have a remarkable talent for cartography and astronomy.
>Without that brown-furred, snaggletoothed mutt on board, the Lamprey probably would've been lost long ago.
>From up in the rafters, a tapered, spike-tipped grey tail swings to and fro dangerously.
>Ferra's red eyes pierce you from above, silently contemplating who knows what.
>You'd seen a lot since being sent out here, but the day the Lamprey ran ashore of a ruined cathedral and was approached by a lithe, sentient gargoyle, volunteering to join your crew, marked a new record for most outlandish thing you thought you'd never see.
>The stone pony in the rafters gives a dismissive flick of her hairless tail.
>With her curved horns, leathery wings, and blazing eyes, you could almost mistake the gargoyle for a demon, if not for her rocky exterior.
>She serves primarily as the ship's angler, dragging up the bizarre oceanic mutants that appear too small or wounded to do much serious damage.
>After she pulls them out of the back abyss, they go off to Zeel.
>The too-thin feline's wide grin grows larger when you look his way.
>You get the uncomfortable feeling he's been staring at you for some town now.
>Not quite a cat, the bipedal creature of matted black fur and almond-shaped eyes sports an intimidating rack of teeth that would look more appropriate on a tiger shark.
>"Anon, pull up a chair and have a bite!"
>His reedy voice makes it sound like he's always got a hairball halfway up his throat.
>"You know the choicest cuts of moray don't keep long!"
>You reply with a non-committal wave.
>Zeel has a fondness for butchering and preparing meat unrivaled by any other being you've encountered.
>The more bizarre of a catch Ferra brings him, the more excited he gets to start cutting.
>It was obvious that hardly any of his wicked talent went into the non-carnivorous aspects of meals, but he provided what was needed to keep everyone full up.
>Of course, many of the crew had been mortified the first time they had a plate of animal flesh served to them.
>Most had surrendered to their appetites almost immediately, especially those that were already descended from meat-eaters, like Skulldugger, but others had taken a few days of near-starvation to come around.
>The most stubborn and moral of the initial sailors had gone for weeks without indulging, ultimately being withered to nothing one by one.
>It simply wasn't possible to survive on a diet of ship's biscuit and seaweed alone.
>The rest of the crew likes to say that they were given an honorable burial at sea, though no one seems to have actually attended it.
>All you can say for sure is that Zeel's unsettling grin had seemed even wider and more prevalent during mealtimes for the next several days.
>Better not to dwell on what's past, though.
>Out here, that's a surefire way to drive yourself mad.
>Thinking for prolonged periods of time about the beasts twisting about under the waves, or the permanent darkness never to be pierced by the touch of sun or moon, or the fact that the remainder of your existence would be spent mostly on this ship under these conditions...
>Jumping ship is a popular alternative to those who are too contemplative.
>Not trying to swim to any nearby shore.
>The sailors that toss themselves willfully, cheerfully, over the railing have simply opted for a quick oblivion at the claws of whatever saltwater monstrosity snatches them up first rather than another agonizing day waiting for it.
>Not the best life. But at least you can say you've seen things others in Equestria never will.
>And almost certainly wouldn't want to.
>Abbey coughs loudly in your ear, rousing your attention.
>You snap out of your dangerous thoughts, noticing that Zeel is your rat friend a decidedly hungry look.
"I think I'll just turn in for the night."
>You saunter past the rest of the crew, some of whom's names you're still not sure of.
>Nondescript pony #3 is playing cards with generic griffon #1...
>No sign of the skipper, which is typical.
>Captain Hatch prefers to take her meals in the solitude of her private quarters.
>You can't really blame her. Taking the reigns of this colorful crew every day must be exhausting.
>Still, you wonder what she does in there.
>From what you've asked the crew, they all assume she's constantly updating her captain's log with every bit of information that goes by, from the distant screech of a sea-bat to a fly taking a nip at her ear.
>Tonight, however, you pick up on something as you brush by the rotting wooden door to her quarters.
>A series of rhythmic feminine grunts coming from inside.