Startup 51: Leveraging Assets

Rova 7, The night before hosting Kelizar

“I’m pretty sure I know how it works, but that isn’t good enough for a serious fight.”

The spirit of the mirror was vaguely aware that the voice was speaking of it, but that meant very little. It was, after all, only a mirror. No one was touching it, and no one was reflected upon its surface. Therefore, nothing really mattered.

“Why me, though?” Another voice asked.

“You’re the one who will be using it tomorrow if everything goes well. I need someone who specifically isn’t good in a fight. Sosima trusts you; that’s good enough for me.”

Moments later, the spirit felt the touch of another, and felt her desires. The poor girl wanted so very little, really. She wanted to be safe. She wanted her mother to be safe, and to go back to normal. Hardly anything else registered next to those burning beacons of desire. The mirror wanted to help, it wanted to help so much, but it was no one and nothing.

“Alright, now, everyone get out of the way.” The first voice spoke again, “Are you ready, Cog?”

The cloth blinding the spirit fell away, the surface of the mirror reflected a man, and so the spirit within became that man. Information flooded into the spirit’s mind. His real name was Crimson, but he preferred the nickname. He was standing and waiting, fully expecting an attack. He’d been chosen because he could take a punch far better than he could throw one, and he didn’t particularly fear ****. He wasn’t sure how this mirror worked, but he knew some copy of himself would pop out.

The spirit looked at the real Cog, and hated him. He had no particular interest in protecting Naomi or helping her mother; he’d do something if the opportunity arose, but he didn’t see it as a priority. He dared to think his own concerns more important. Didn’t he know that she needed help? Didn’t he care about anything but his own egotistical desire to live his own life?

If I were you, I’d help her. She’s pretty, maybe I would love her. That would help me focus on what’s important. That would be a better version of you. You ignore everyone unless you want something from them.

Then, suddenly, the spirit felt Naomi push it forward, out of the reflection. It took Cog’s form physically, and its shell came with his skills as well. She wanted him to live, to stay with Naomi, so he took a sample, the slightest taste, of her soul. That limited the power of the vessel the mirror could build, so he would be weaker than his target. That didn’t mean all hope was lost, but he would need to get lucky.

Cog wasted no time, lunging straight for the inferior original. Without the energy released by the original’s ****, he would never be real. He would never know his own past. He could never help Naomi. The original was unarmed, as he’d been expecting this fight, and thus so was the mirror spirit. The **** was, unfortunately, doomed by treachery.

He thought Emrys was helping him at first, irrationally. The plan in Cog’s mind had been for Emrys to finish off the copy, but why wouldn’t he adjust the plan when he saw the superior version? He didn’t think anything of it when the other Cog started glowing with flickering purple flame; obviously Emrys needed to tell the difference between them. The mental probe seemed like a poor fit for the situation, but Cog was far too busy to nitpick Emrys’s plans.

A cold shock crashed through Cog’s shoulder. He staggered, and the original drove a palm into his nose, breaking it. Through the haze of pain, Cog realized that Emrys had betrayed him. On the other end of the room, half of the officers watched with grim detachment. Just as they’d planned to.

Damn. I’ll need to kill him too. He won’t accept me as the real Cog. None of them will. My chances just went from bad to worse. I shouldn’t have come out swinging. Wait. No. He read my mind. Deception wouldn’t have worked. Did I ever have a chance?

Cog wasn’t a tactical genius. He couldn’t come up with crazy plans in the heat of the moment. He was a guy with a knife and a blessing that could ward off injury. When a second misty bolt from Emrys froze his knee, that was largely the end of things. He glared up at the drow, hating him, hoping that the man was still reading his mind so that he’d know just how much he was hated. Emrys looked down, held out his pointer finger, and ended the copy’s short life.

The rage faded quickly to abstract disappointment. It was only a mirror, after all. The woman had put its vessel down, so it no longer cared about her plight. It could barely remember her, really. It could remember its time as Cog somewhat, since it had a brain at the time. Those were good at creating memories. It was a new and interesting experience to have something to ruminate upon.

That was a terribly flawed performance. I could have done much better. He worships Pharasma, does he not? Would spite have really been the focus in his last moment? Probably not.

The mirror remembered hating Emrys, of course, but it didn’t hold a grudge. After all, that had always been the plan. It would have been a betrayal if Emrys had chosen to side with the doppelgänger, not the reverse. When Emrys briefly stepped onto the mirror’s reflection to cover it again, the spirit could feel his irrational guilt.

He thought I was a real person, even though he knows better! How flattering. Now I’m looking forward to tomorrow; I’d be happy to do a repeat performance for a fan.

The wait was easy, of course. The mirror completely forgot about the plan and drifted in a meditative stupor until Naomi pulled off the cover again. That’s when it saw Kelizar.

Yes, Naomi, I agree. I will be him, but I’ll do better this time. There’s no way I can win this fight, so I’ll be more creative.

•••••••••

Conchobar flinched when the dragon rushed him, and he wasn’t going to apologize about that. He hit the deck rather than trying to block the scaly blue cannonball; even if he survived, it would have cost Emrys his wager. He hoped it would, anyway. Sandara would have healed him, right?

They had all expected it to go for Kelizar, but once it got past the small gun line it had swerved to port and taken flight. Through the crack and smoke of the girls’ missed shots, Conchobar caught Emrys standing up out of the corner of his eye, eyes wide with panic. Kelizar laughed, probably assuming it was all part of the show.

“I win if it escapes, no?” He said. “Since it was supposed to die.”

Conchobar thought that Rowe would handle the whole situation alone at first; she rushed to the side of the ship, knocking over a barrel and pulling one of her new prototypes out. It resembled a mad combination of a musket and a fishing rod, and all Conchobar knew about it was that she’d built it on the first night after Emrys got back.

Its payload turned out to be a three pronged hook on the end of a thick rope. At first it seemed like Rowe missed the miniature dragon, but then she took hold of the lever on the side of the musket and started cranking it back. The rope snapped and pulled back into the dragon’s shoulder, biting deep. The false Kelizar roared and pulled the rope taught, tumbling into the sea. He struggled, taking off into the sea and diving under the waves.

“Get it, Pearlteeth!” Rowe yelled, wedging herself against the ship’s railing.

“What in Nine Hells am I supposed to do?” Conchobar asked, though his voice was drowned out by another volley of shotgun fire.

“Kill dragon!” Rowe said, “These three too dumb, shooting bullets at water.”

Oh. Oh Damnation. She’s right. They only picked up guns for the first time yesterday. We went with shotguns because this was supposed to be a close quarters fight. They’ll run out of ammo unless they just get lucky. I could sing a Song of Courage? No. I can only manage that for around thirty seconds. It’s too risky to waste when they probably won’t hit anyway.

“Stop shooting it!” He yelled at Lecour, grabbing her arm.

The skinny goblin laughed maniacally as she took another shot. Conchobar looked down and saw that she only had three shells left. Rowe could mass produce them out of sea salt and enthusiasm, but in this moment they were too precious to waste. Lecour jumped when he put his hand over her ammo bag, calming down just enough to look at him with irritated confusion.

He looked over at Rowe, who was very slowly reeling the false dragon in. He saw her grip slip a few inches, which she clawed back, sweat rolling down her face.

She needs help. I’m not all that strong but it’s a miracle she’s keeping her grip at all. I’m heavier than her, if nothing else. I don’t have time to do that, though, not unless Lecour tells the rest to hold their fire.

He looked her in the eyes, and she glanced down at her ammo bag. Lecour pointed at the empty chamber of her shotgun.

“Why are you wasting my time when I could be killing a dragon?” She asked. “Why wait?”

No luck. I don’t have time to explain.

Conchobar looked back, not sure what to say. He could see what needed to happen. He just needed these three to listen. They liked him for some reason; why couldn’t they just trust him?

No question there. I don’t trust me. Why would they?

Conchobar heard a thunk; Rowe had slipped on the deck. When he looked again she was wedged between two posts on the railing, holding onto the hook gun for dear life. He heard a faint crack from the railing. Something snapped within him.

Well if they won’t just listen to me, who would they listen to?

Conchobar stood as tall as he could manage, took a deep breath, and bellowed an order with all the **** that fifteen years of fine tuned breath control could manage. Rowe hadn’t taught him much goblin, but he had enough to work with.

“Hold your fire!” He bellowed in goblin, using the specific intonation meant for chiefs speaking to a warband. “We lay in ambush!”

He pointed at each of the three in turn. They stared at him, slack jawed. Conchobar had no idea how long he could ride this wave without them catching on, so he didn’t give them the chance to think.

“Reload, men!” He ordered, “Gobarine, assist me!”

He ran over to Rowe and grabbed her under the arms. He and Gobarine dragged her back a few steps, and he helped hold the end of the hook gun steady. They stabilized Rowe, allowing her to put all her strength into the crank.

“Steady!” He yelled again. “Aim!”

Conchobar watched the struggling dragon straining against the rope. It tried to gnaw upon its binding, but Rowe had coated it in some kind of liquid that made the cord stronger. It wasn’t getting away. Suddenly, the dragon turned in the air and flew towards them.

“Fire!” Conchobar yelled, then blew a shrill, magically enhanced note on his flute. The dragon buzzed past them, spraying a mixture of blood and acid upon the three people holding him back while the other two managed to pepper him with slugs. The pain was finally enough for Rowe to drop her hook gun.

No, no, no! It’s all falling apart!

Conchobar saw Gobarine fall to the floor, writhing in pain and spreading more acid all over herself. He dropped to his knees and quickly played the song of healing, focusing its energies upon his new friend.

She was only standing here because I told her to.

••••••••••

I only realized that I’d been holding my breath once Rowe emptied an entire clip of bottle rockets into the mirror clone. The moment it closed the distance, she’d scrambled to grab her most devastating weapon and let fly. The miniature Kelizar shattered into a thousand pieces of glowing glass, which flowed back to the mirror like a river.

I’d been **** to assess the situation every six seconds for almost a full minute and decide whether I should step in or let it play out. The latter turned out to be the right call, but actually getting to that point was almost as stressful as the **** attempt. At first I’d just been hoping for a miracle, but once Conchobar took charge it would have been a disservice to interrupt.

“And that’s the match.” I said, “Sandara?”

A single pulse of healing energy cleared up all injuries in the blink of an eye, allowing Rowe to tackle Conchobar to the ground with a series of kisses. He tried to throw her off in a panic before he realized who was on top of him, then relaxed. I’m not sure if he actually kissed back given the fact that his nerves were probably shot, but Rowe did not seem to care.

The acid breath weapon used by the mirror Kelizar had been as weak as a wyrmling’s, which had been the whole point of having Naomi use the mirror. The power limiter for long lasting mirror clones was based on the user’s level, not on mine. The real Kelizar’s breath would have probably eaten all the way through the deck and into the interior of the ship; the little guy’s acid was fairly survivable, at least for level 3 commoners. It would probably be dangerous to stand on the damaged area until I made repairs, but that could probably wait until my guest was gone.

Technically anyone could use the mirror, which was why I intended to keep it in my shadow full time unless Yael’s liege lord agreed to shell out 20k for it. The negotiations weren’t going well, incidentally. 20k is a lot for a trump card that can only promise you a fair fight with a single target, and at the moment I was not willing to go any lower.

“Ahh, a gnome?” Kelizar said thoughtfully. “I suppose there’s no point in asking if he’d be willing to sell her? No, don’t answer that. I heard them talking during the fight. I doubt she’d accept it even if he did.”

“I’m not one for buying and selling members of my crew.” I said, with what I thought was masterful tact.

“Our captain’s a big softie at times.” Sandara added. “It worked out well for us, like we said, so we can’t really complain.”

“I believe you were going to choose one tribute, no?” Sosima asked, “Have you considered what you want?”

“Good job, guys!” I called down.

They largely ignored me. The three new girls rushed over and picked up Conchobar to toss him into the air. Rowe glared at the interruption at first, but she joined in to celebrate eventually.

Probably thinks he needs the ego boost.

“Pearlteeth! Pearlteeth! Pearlteeth!”

I sat back and checked my menu. Sosima and Sandara could manage Kelizar for a few seconds while I checked to see if this whole song and dance had paid off.

Slay the dragon Kelizar - Complete

3 exp (39/45), Premium Boon - Frost Shaper’s Path

Frost Shaper’s Path - Allows the user to freeze and solidify ambient water into a nonmagical item for one spell point. This can create any object that could plausibly be made out of a single rigid piece of ice, up to the size of a large sized creature (horse, brown bear), or a huge sized creature (elephant, some whales) for an additional spell point. These objects will melt as normal unless fortified with an additional spell point, in which they are guaranteed to remain intact for a minimum of one hour per level.

I sighed with relief. When my Killer of a Thousand Men achievement updated to say that I’d killed Crimson “Cog” Cogward last night, I thought it might work out. I hadn’t been certain, though.

Awesome. It didn’t technically have to be this dragon, Kelizar. Any dragon named Kelizar would have worked. Even a counterfeit one only thirty seconds old.

I was startled out of my reverie by a crash. I looked down at the deck and saw a hole where the celebrating goblins had been. They’d apparently decided to toss Conchobar into the air in the exact spot where the mini-dragon’s acid weakened the deck.

“We ok!” Rowe yelled up from the hold.

••••••••••

An hour later, Kelizar vanished beneath the waves, flanked by an honor guard of busty topless mermaids. He’d settled upon the magical candle, which was just as well. From the description my appraise check gave me the truth-compelling enchantment on it wasn’t very strong, only a DC 11, so I wasn’t losing much.

I grabbed it because it was magical and looked expensive, and it left my possession because someone else did the same. There’s no way in hell he’s going to use a goddamn candle underwater.

I managed to get a few halfhearted promises to let me buy a few underwater crops like coral or seaweed in exchange for treasures from the surface, but I wasn’t sure if that would actually go anywhere. If nothing else, Kelizar was a person with enough money to actually buy anything I could bring him, assuming it was to his tastes. He’d even offered to buy the mirror, though he’d lowballed me on the price.

If I’d been treated a bit better by Dovnu and Nendra then House D’Lann would have a new nearby trading partner, but I didn’t feel too enthusiastic about paying my good fortune forward right now.

“Honestly I’m a little disappointed.” Dierdre said from right behind me, “If I’d put him to sleep, Rowe could have aimed for the base of the spine. Bang, no more dragon.”

She’d landed within arms reach before speaking, but her team had been shadowing me for the entire meal. I think she was trying to startle me, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that I could see her as a sky blue smudge when she was invisible.

“Assuming your sleep arrows worked on him.” I shot back. “Same problem with every other plan. Dierdre, would you mind letting Rosie and Aaron know how things went down? The rest of you can go to the kitchen and get your portions now.”

Dierdre dutifully flew over to Gobron’s ship. The two other pixies I’d summoned the prior day made themselves visible and nodded. They didn’t waste any time on pleasantries, heading downstairs to eat their own small feasts of curry.

If a fight had broken out, they would have all opened fire with sleep arrows. Each shot had only about a ten percent chance of working, given the standard stat blocks for adult brine dragons stacked up against pixies, but quantity has a quality all its own. Together, three pixies would have almost a one in four chance of knocking him out every round, giving my team time for triage followed by a free critical hit when we were ready to start the fight again. If we’d managed to get him blackout drunk those odds would have gone up to 50/50, and I might have pulled the trigger then.

Maybe. If I didn’t ****. I’m not sure if I’m cut out for premeditated ****. Really limits my piratical ambitions.

“Oh, by the by, that worked.” I added, cracking a smile.

The men cheered. Most of my crew were now at least vaguely aware of my “esoteric rituals” by now. The Port Peril affair had demanded an explanation, after all. Their perception was filtered through Sandara’s retellings, so presumably I had made a list of boasts to a wide variety of gods in the middle of a drunken bender, but that was close enough. They had ironclad faith that when I did something stupid, it was actually step 27 of my master plan to learn how to make a fighting robot out of zombie dolphins.

Huh. Is that actually a thing I could do? Magic can get kinda weird, but…

New Constructs unlocked: Flesh Golem, Carrion Golem

Flesh Golem Restricted: Requires level 8 crafter

Carrion Golem Restricted: Requires level 7 crafter

Fair enough. I should make dumb speculations more often, I guess.

“What did you get?” Syl asked, striding out onto the deck. “It had better be pretty great, since we didn’t make a single gold or a minute’s progress.”

“Something about making things out of ice.” I said, “I’ll need to experiment with it later. For now, you have the deck. I have something time sensitive to take care of.”

“What’s that?” Syl asked, cocking her head to the side.

I grabbed Sandara around the waist and smiled at her.

“Well, it’s still hurricane season, right?” I asked, “I need to get reacquainted with my sailing master while the weather is still good.”

“Oh Captain, you dog!” Sandara said, feigning a swoon. “You’re being so romantic it just might be too much for me.”

I leaned in and bit her earlobe gently.

“It better not be.” I said, “I’ve got some nervous energy to burn off.”