NOVEL WEB Chapter 3: Product Launch
Erastus 21
The roads in Goatshead were schizophrenic in their construction, a patchwork of streets with hardly a thing in common. At the edge of town we found gravel, which gave way to cobblestones, then a pockmarked muddy path, and eventually something that resembled mottled gray and black concrete. As we continued to walk, the roads and side streets shifted between these styles, as well as many others.
The roads were stolen, lifted wholesale from various port towns across the coast and the southern Shackles. They were taken back here and fitted together in order to expand the town, equal parts municipal construction and trophy. (Secret Knowledge Local 1+2=3 Critical Failure)
Look, I can’t see the numbers on secret rolls but I don’t have to. That is the dumbest bullshit I’ve ever heard. They’re probably just all private roads with no system in place to standardize things.
Our goblin guide ghosted us the moment we were on paved roads, which would have been much more of a problem if Autopilot wasn’t supernaturally good at finding things and people. He could make logical leaps and improvise strategies that no normal person would ever even consider to find his target.
“Excuse me, miss?” I said, peeking into a window lit by candlelight. “I’m sorry to bother you. A rather large group of my companions entered town from around here and were looking for a tavern. Can you point me towards the nearest one? I’ll let you return to your book after that.”
The absolute mad lad.
“Stay back!” The badly scarred woman snatched a short metal rod from her table, pointing it directly at my head. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“I assure you I don’t want any trouble either.” I assured her, “I want directions. Then me and my dozen friends will leave. You’ll never hear from us again.”
She squinted into the darkness behind me, noting my companions, before grunting and lowering the wand with a defeated sigh.
“If they are rough and tumble types like you lot, they’d want Walleye’s Rum Room, near the harbor. Thats where the sailors go. Go west until you see the red brick road, then follow that until you hear the sea. Ask a goblin.” She said, watching us all for sudden movements. “The Nasty Crab is closer, but it’s for locals. If they tried to storm in there they’d get a fight, and I haven’t heard many gunshots tonight.”
“You have my thanks and my apologies,” I said with a bow, and left as promised. (Diplomacy to gather information 17+8=25)
Thus armed with knowledge, my collection of naval rabble headed towards the shore where all the good taverns could be found. By unspoken agreement, Plugg and his three companions split off from the rest of us once we could see the harbor. The goblin security there made a petite girl, a greasy halfling laden with bags, and two men carrying a heavy trunk look much less like targets.
Walleye’s Rum Room was easy to find, though my crew was following me very closely by the time we arrived. I had darkvision, but most of my people didn’t. The moon was a slim crescent; pretty useless for illumination.
Walleye’s was less a room and more a great hall full of long tables and benches. More than a hundred sailors milled around, eager to trade coin for cheap beer, food, and entertainment. As we walked in, I saw Sandara on stage swaying slightly as she regaled the assembled masses with some kind of tall tale. To her left, Conchobar played a flute in accompaniment to emphasize her points.
“So then, like I said, the captain knew he’d need more’n that.” Sandara shouted over the din, pausing to take another pull from a tankard, “so he took the bones of the fallen and he dipped em in holy water, then formed a spiral with em, just like Pharasma’s symbol. He told the Gray Lady that she’d missed a few whoresons, and he wouldn’t tell no one so long as she helped clean up the mess. A cloud of shadows swirled round him, even though it was high noon, and no one knows what he said after that. All we know is that when the shadows were gone, a pale lady leading a whole pack of Pharasma’s hunting hounds was all that remained.”
With a sweep of my eyes, I confirmed that most of my party was here. Cog wasn’t, but I happened to know he had some friends in town. I raised an eyebrow when I saw Syl; her hair was up in a high ponytail. She preferred to keep her hair loose, held away from her face by her scarf. Tying it back was a signal we’d arranged over the last few weeks.
Alright. The code was that a low ponytail means that she wants to talk to me. A bun means she thinks we are in danger but doesn’t want to say it out loud. High ponytail was “read my mind.”
I wasn’t telepathic, not really. I could only peek into someone’s head for a few seconds once a day, and usually only got very surface level thoughts. Once Syl had learned about it, however, she’d wanted to experiment. By this point, Syl knew how it felt when I was poking around in her skull, and could do the mental equivalent of handing me a quick note in response.
I caressed Syl’s mind, and the information surged forward during our brief contact. “Sandara is already recruiting. She’s embellishing what happened on Bonewrack to draw eyes. Some guys want to take a go at you, since she’s hyping you up so much. Be ready for a fight. (Syl voluntarily failed a will save.)
Damn it Sandara. Autopilot, have the shadow puppet ready just in case.
I fell back amid my entourage as we entered the tavern, hoping to not cause too much of a scene. I wanted at least one beer before I had to deal with belligerent assholes, and the cheesy potatoes I saw on several nearby plates looked divine. I’d been eating nothing but curried rice and the occasional fish for weeks. I slid in between Syl and a fidgeting Sosima, who were splitting a bottle of red. The chelish noblewoman had barely sipped her wine, her lips pursed disapprovingly. She was busy wiping off her knuckles with a kerchief, and a man with a bloody nose lay sleeping a few feet away from her.
“Is this really the only establishment available to us?” Sosima grumbled. “Three men have propositioned me, two of them likely too drunk to maintain an erection even if I was driven blind and mad by a vengeful god.”
I leaned closer to Sosima, hooking one arm around her waist. Syl smirked, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged; even a bombshell like her might not be harassed if people knew she was taken.
“You’re going to run into that just about anywhere, Sima.” I chided her. “Maybe they’d be a bit more intimidated if you wore your armor?”
“Around town?” Sosima asked, scandalized, “whenever would I get the opportunity to dress like a lady if I always wore armor in public?”
“Wouldn’t work, anyway.” Syl pointed out. “The armor you gave her is tailored a little bit too well. Does it really have to be that form fitting?”
“You’d have to ask the one who made it.” I answered, shrugging and taking a foaming mug off the table. “At least it doesn’t have high heeled boots. Anyway, I’m starving. Who do I have to talk to to get something to eat?”
Sosima snapped her fingers twice, and pointed at one of my Followers.
“Jape.” She called, “Get the captain something to eat. The potatoes, I think. I don’t trust the meat loaf.”
Jaundiced Jape sighed and pulled himself to his feet. If orcs were tall, heavily muscled people, Jape the half orc had gotten the height and not a single iota of brawn. His lanky six and a half foot form was topped by a disordered black mop of black hair, and his skin was a greenish yellow that brought to mind dying grass more than anything else.
Jape approached a counter and spoke to an evil eyed old salt, pointing me out. I couldn’t make out Jape’s words over the din, but I could tell that some of the men around him turned to take a look in my direction, even pointing me out to their companions. (Perception 10+3=13)
Well this beer is shit. Maybe I should have ordered the rum; it’s Walleye’s Rum Room, after all. Maybe that’s the specialty.
I leaned forward over the table and rolled my shoulders, trying to get the kinks out.
“Sima, would you mind rubbing my back later?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure my muscles are all tied up in knots.”
“Of course, Captain.” She said with a smile.
Up on stage, Sandara continued to regale the men with a heavily embellished version of my story.
“Now these boys were real riled up after a whole day getting attacked by dragons, and the island couldn’t take much more.” She explained, “so they took to the beach, throwing everything they could to kill Captain M’Dair. Naturally, this is what he expected. When they reached the beach, they found it frozen solid. Smooth as a mirror and twice as slick, buried in ten inches of snow. They thought they knew what he was planning, and they caught just as many bolts as they expected. Trudging through the ice and snow was just a distraction, though. Once they were all on the beach, he finished summoning the kraken he’d won from Besmara in a game of dice.”
“Shit. Can we sign on with that guy?” I asked Syl, smiling. “He seems pretty impressive.”
“Probably a bad idea for you.” She answered dryly. “His raw animal magnetism would be too much for us to resist. I assume so, anyway, since he apparently managed to seduce Pharasma’s shadow with his own.”
“Yael?” I guessed, receiving a nod in return.
“Oi. Elf.” I heard a man shout over the din. “You M’Dair?”
I glanced around, and found the guy without much trouble; not hard to do since he was pointing straight at me. Stout to the point of chubby, with a red face and broad shoulders. He was not smiling.
Stay cool. He’s halfway across the room.
“Yep.” I called back. “You need something?”
“I hear you started a mutiny.” He called. “We don’t take kindly to mutineers round these parts. Specially not from little girly boys, and not against respectable captains like Barnabas Harrigan.”
As the man shouted, three others gathered around him. They seemed like relative nobodies hoping to make a name for themselves on my back. I had nothing to gain from beating them and much to lose if they beat me. (Knowledge Local 13+2=15)
From the comment about Harrigan, maybe they’re hoping to put me on their resume. He’s still recruiting, I imagine.
“Gentlemen, please.” I said, finishing my beer. “There’s no need for you all to get hurt.”
I refilled my cup from the wine bottle.
“Hear that?” The big guy chuckled. “He’s gonna make it easy on us.”
The sounds of the tavern slowed and distorted, as the milling people came to a shuddering stop. Text scrolled across my vision.
Initiative 19+3=22. Your turn.
I sighed, but sat still. I had all the time I needed once combat started, as long as I didn’t move enough for the system to trigger my turn. Plenty of time to think.
I really didn’t want to get into a brawl. I haven’t even had my potatoes yet.
I glanced over, noting that Jape was waiting at the counter. He was staring at the unfolding mess, but he was still on task. I swept my eyes across the room, craning my neck while my torso stayed mostly immobile.
Actually, a lot of people are watching. Well, I guess if they are insisting, I might as well make it a show. I can’t just win with lowlifes like these. I need to dominate. In a straight fistfight I might be able to take one of them, if I’m lucky. Best if I let Autopilot handle the fighting, then. He’s good at that.
“Alright men,” I shouted. “Don’t bother standing up. I’ll take care of these three; if one of you escalates this to a brawl I’ll hold you personally responsible. You three should walk away too.”
My shadow darkened and shifted, stretching out towards the men in defiance of the prevailing light. The darkness congealed into a liquid mass, which rose from the floor smoothly. Within a few seconds, a dark clone of myself stood between me and the men, ready to join battle.
“It’s probably just summoned.” The big guy said with a chuckle. “I’ll take care of it while you two go for the elf.”
My shadow, being nearly identical to my own body, was not the most intimidating sight. He was thin, with smoky clothes hiding what little muscle I’d managed to build. His long grey hair, mirroring my own white locks, was hanging loosely to frame a face that was more pretty than handsome. At three inches short of six foot, he wasn’t towering over anyone.
The ladies I’d met since coming here didn’t seem to mind, but I still missed my old body. I’d been 6’2” and packed with muscle earned from years in the gym. I’d have at least appreciated it if my new body could grow a good beard, but no dice. Of course, this body compensated in other areas.
The lead man lunged for my shadow with his arms outstretched, going for a grapple. With an imperceptible twitch of my fingers, I tugged the strand of shadow and my puppet ducked low. His fist flashed out, striking the man in the throat. (Counterpunch successful) The puppet used its other hand to pivot into a spinning kick, catching one of the other men in the gut as he tried to pass. Both recoiled from the heavy blows, but unfortunately they didn’t go down just yet.
The third guy managed to close the distance, so I hopped out of my chair to defend myself and deliberately took a sip of my wine. A man focused on keeping his drink from spilling doesn’t look like he’s worried about his own safety. I wouldn’t be able to dodge a real warrior’s attacks for long, at least not without exhausting myself, but this guy’s drunken haymakers were predictable. They’d hurt like hell if they hit, of course, but ideally that wouldn’t be a concern.
I reeled back my shadow, which struck the fool in the back of the head. He crumpled at my feet, and my shadow turned and stared down the remaining two. They were still recovering, and seemed to have realized the error of their ways somewhat. Unfortunately, macho bravado would not allow them to simply allow me to drink in peace.
Time stopped at the end of the second round, giving me time to consider my options.
Fuck, is that guy dead? I want more street cred, but not like that.
I checked my logs, which contained a recap of every action any member of my party had rolled for.
Shadow Puppet has struck Tavern Thug C for 11 nonlethal damage
2 excess nonlethal damage was converted to lethal.
Tavern Thug C has been knocked out of the fight.
Ok, not dead but seriously hurt. I can work with that. I was giving these guys too much credit. Hmm. I can’t stop controlling the puppet to heal him myself; I don’t have much faith in these two to back off for his sake.
“Syl, I think our friend here fell over, could you check on him?” I said, nudging the fallen man with my toe. “I’d hate to see anyone seriously hurt.”
I said the last words while locking eyes with the leader. The two drunks flicked their eyes between me and my shadow, before once again rushing me with a fatalistic gleam in their eyes. I sighed, stepping away to give Syl space to work.
Autopilot backhanded one of them through the shadow, deliberately pulling his punches with the second strike. I took out the leader with a kick to the nuts. I confirmed that Tavern Thug C was subdued with a glance at my chat log, and hopped up onto the table in front of Sosima. I sipped my wine.
The low blow won’t play well with everyone, but I think the fact that I finished the fight personally should counteract that somewhat. Either way, I need to guide the narrative here before I can settle down.
“Gentlemen, I’ll be honest with you.” I shouted, “I’ve had a long week. I don’t particularly want to spend the evening beating down every Tom, Dick, and Harry that wants to prove how hard he is. Anyone who feels a desperate need for a story about how Captain Emrys M’Dair beat them into unconsciousness may form an orderly queue and speak to Narwhal Tate there.”
I indicated the dwarf in question, who looked up from his food with a stricken expression. His dark brown beard had bits of potato hanging from it, remnants from the three empty plates stacked next to him.
“Anyone who can beat my shadow has earned a place on my crew, if they want it.” I said, sweeping my red eyes across the assembled masses. “Ah, thank you Jape. Now then, if any of you interrupt my meal you’ll get to see what I do when I’m actually irritated.”
As I spoke, I subtly manipulated the shadows around me to cast my face into shade. I injected a hint of ice into my words, deliberately contrasting with how I spoke to my half orc swab. (Intimidate 7+11+5 [Boots of Authority]=23 success)
I sat down again next to Sosima, grabbing a spoon from my pocket. In my periphery I saw a handful of men rushing to speak to Narwhal. I’d pay him back later, assuming he didn’t realize he could charge people for the chance to fight my shadow. The potatoes were divine, if a little saltier than I liked. They held together just well enough to serve as a vehicle for the mild, gooey cheese. I stopped occasionally to heal my shadow before the next bout. Once I had some food in me, I was ready to really start drinking.
••••••••••
It turned out that my alcohol tolerance had gone down substantially. In retrospect, it should have been obvious. I was several inches shorter after coming to this world, and didn’t have much meat on my bones. Not that it was a problem, I was among friends. Eventually I laid face down on the table so Sosima could give me that massage. She worked my muscles with her hands and fingers, slowly untying the knots that I’d accumulated from weeks of stress.
At some point, while I was drifting in and out of consciousness, some drunk guy wandered over and joined the conversation. We let him talk; it seemed like he’d lived a rough life and really needed someone to listen.
“You’re married, really?” Sandara asked, “I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that.”
“If you want to call it that,” my new buddy slurred, “s’not like how you humans marry. More like she bought me, so I could give her strong daughters.”
“I’m more familiar with the concept than you might think,” Sosima said wryly. “In another life, that may have been my fate if I proved incapable of more.”
“That’s rough.” I said, “you didn’t get a choice at all?”
“I had a few choices,” he admitted. “Based on my research, Clan D’lann was the best of them. Rich, Nendra was good looking, and Dovnu offered the opportunity to leave Heslandaena occasionally.”
“This is when you say but, right?” Syl noted, eyebrow raised.
“Quite.” My new buddy confirmed. “Nendra, my wife, is very particular about her wishes. If I failed to meet expectations, I would be punished. Sometimes by her, sometimes by Mistress Dovnu. If they were busy, it would be something simple like a whipping.”
“And you let it happen?” Sandara asked, with a tinge of disappointment. “Hard man like you didn’t try to escape?”
“What was he supposed to do?” I asked her, jumping to my buddy’s defense, “fight the whole family and run off to the hills? He’d lose everything.”
For some reason, the girls gave me a strange look at that.
“That wasn’t an option regardless. We live in a secret cavern.” He answered, “if I’d left Heslandaena by foot, I’d have likely been eaten or enslaved by dragons, and may have condemned the whole city to the same. I did consider it occasionally, despite that. I rebelled in small ways.”
“Oh?” Sosima asked. “I’m curious, what did you do?”
“When I was sent out to sell Dovnu’s product, I’d pretend it took longer than expected.” He explained, “Do side jobs, siphon off excess gold and silver, loan the money to sympathetic individuals, buy small trinkets for myself. Of course, the most important thing I did was ensure that I never gave Nendra what she wanted most from me. A sorceress daughter.”
“Is that why she married you?” Syl asked. “For the magic? I mean, it makes sense. You’re damn powerful.”
Shit, he’s a sorcerer? We need to get this guy on our ship. Especially if he needs to run off somewhere anonymously.
“Not at all, compared to my mother.” He answered, “I wasn’t very powerful then. Even Nendra was able to subdue me with hardly any effort. I was quite a disappointment to a rich old family hoping for a powerful next generation. I had to be careful with my use of Bachelor Snuff, so she wouldn’t realize I was taking it. Overuse can discolor the teeth and nails, even once I secured a reliable supplier.”
His voice softened as he mentioned the supplier.
Oh good. He had at least one friend. Poor guy.
“Hah, well at least you managed to get away eventually.” Sandara said, slapping me on the back for some reason, “you’re doing mighty well for yourself, eh?”
“Indeed,” Sosima agreed, holding up her glass. “To new beginnings.”