Startup 53: Offshore Maneuver

Rova 9, dusk

My men finished up their shifts, making room for the evening crew as the sun dipped close to the horizon. The air was full of the sound of saws and hammers, and the chemical smell of liquid cement whipped up by Syl. I stood on the poop deck in a scratchy old shirt and breeches that would no doubt be ruined by dawn.

The hole punched into the deck by the goblins proved to be a blessing in disguise. Once the rain started up again, it let water pour into the men’s quarters. Even after Rowe did a quick patch job with some canvas and tar, enough rain leaked through to be a problem. The hull was as close to watertight as could be managed without expensive enchantments, so water would gather in the bilges, which would in turn add weight to the ship, which could potentially cause a lot of problems up to and including making the whole damn ship go underwater.

It was a serious problem that justified a response, but especially with Filli deputized as a new full time pump operator to vent the excess water we weren’t in any serious danger unless the rain picked up substantially. We could wait until the end of the day to get to work addressing it, or more accurately we could wait until my ship was in position near the Saber’s Kiss.

We weighed anchor a little bit early, just a few miles past a rocky outcropping Varossa recognized. My crew went to work fixing the hole in the deck with the extra lumber Sosima had insisted on buying in Port Peril, and my team gathered on the deck where I was busy arguing with a flamboyant skeleton.

Remembering how well the Esobok had worked out against the ghouls and knowing that I’d encounter at least one ghost based on my mission, I’d called in a slightly stronger psychopomp. Specifically, a creature called a Catrina, who took the form of an impeccably dressed skeleton. The basic description mentioned that most of them were women and dressed in bright floral motifs, but the one I got was wearing a pale cream suit, rose corsage, and top hat of all things. From this, I concluded that the souls that became Catrina came from all over, and would logically each have their own styles.

The Catrina in question, Emmanuel, was essentially a grief counselor specialized in working with souls who were having difficulty with this new phase of their existence. He would be supremely useful in laying a ghost to rest, even capable of shuttling them directly to the Boneyard for judgement, if it weren’t for a few issues he had with the assignment.

https://postimg.cc/FYVXrzdY

“I do not do collections, and I do not swim.” He insisted, “I’m not ruining my threads for something that isn’t my damn job! Not unless you’re offering something a little nicer than conjured rum as payment.”

“You could have mentioned that sooner!” I growled, “You’ve had half a day to voice your complaints.”

“I assumed we were dealing with a haunted island.” He said, “I don’t swim! I don’t have the buoyancy for it. Just bring them to me and I can handle it from there.”

“Oh sure, I’ll just grab him.” I said, exasperated, “I’ll drag an incorporeal spirit to the surface with my bare hands so you can exorcise him. Great plan.”

“If you want me to get dirty, try paying me.” Emmanuel said, “One thousand of those gold pieces should be enough. You’re lucky I gave you the time of day for some cheap booze.”

I grunted. I didn’t think I actually needed this guy to deal with one spirit, and I couldn’t actually compel him anymore, even if I wanted to. Once I made my initial deal, that option went out the window. The mission was only for one experience, so it seemed unlikely to be particularly dangerous beyond the general task of deep sea diving into a guarded ship. Even if things turned into a fight, Sandara was probably equipped to handle most spirits as a positively charged cleric. That was good, because it was too late for me to go looking for a more seaworthy psychopomp.

“Fine, whatever.” I said, “Everyone else ready? We’ve got until dawn to get this done.”

I turned to Sosima, Cog, Sandara, Lubo, Varossa, and Creed, who were each dressed for combat. They each confirmed their readiness and allowed Sandara to cast a spell upon them all, so it was time for me to swallow my own nerves and get to work. I nodded and leapt into the ocean without another word. My team followed, just as quietly.

••••••••••

“The real limiter will be our ability to function underwater.” I said, marking a slate. “I can cover my own water breathing for four hours.”

I’d gathered my team to discuss our heist after speaking with Varossa. I declared the day to be an operation, which mostly meant that Sandara and I had to be stingy with our spells.

“Creed and I can manage for that long as well.” Varossa said, “We will be swimming normally, but both of us have some experience diving and will be able to act with more mobility in short bursts.”

“Alright, so me and the gillwomen will be the mobile ones.” I said. “Sandara, you can handle yourself and Cog, right?”

“Oh definitely.” She said, “I’ve even got something that should help with our swimming problem, at least for a moment.”

••••••••••

My feet landed upon the surface of the water, then popped back out of it. I could feel a hard, dry surface beneath me, but when I looked down I only saw the sea. I bobbed up and down with the waves, but Sandara’s Water Walking spell did a lot to steady me and Autopilot handled the rest.

Varossa didn’t take as long to adapt to the magic as me, and jogged straight for the target. I followed close behind her as we ran along the rolling waves as if they were a hiking trail. Lubo and Sosima could have swam just as easily, but we hoped that the choppy surface of the ocean would obscure our passage to any sentries posted by Kelizar.

Once we were in position, I channeled the essence of the elemental plane of water into myself. My skin darkened to a deep navy, and a thin, elastic webbing formed between my fingers. Varossa and Creed each chomped down on small, wax coated tablets to become merfolk, which somehow made their pants turn into solid tubes while their legs became tails. The alchemical spell would last about 6 minutes, at a glance. (Secret Spellcraft check 1+13=Critical Failure)

Ok, so Creed is only level six: on par with my party. That’s good to know.

We dove until I could see the very top of the Saber’s Kiss, the mast still flying a long rotted flag. Sandara and Cog fell behind while the rest of us ranged forward to search, mostly due to their need to swim like normal people; practically aquatic cripples to the rest of us. Unfortunately, that meant that when the guards swam, those two were silhouetted against the moonlight coming from the surface while the rest of us were slightly below. I cursed under my breath when I heard a series of clicks and squeaks that carried clearly through the water; a female voice speaking Aquan.

“Surfacers! Stop!” I heard, “By order of the Lord of these depths!”

Sandara and Cog assumed relaxed postures as they turned to meet the guards, and the rest of us continued, trusting that we hadn’t been seen. We were right to do so; Sandara and Cog drew the eye enough to let the rest of us to slip away into the depths. (Opposed Stealth 7+12+2=21)

My blood turned to ice as I dove deeper, cutting through the water in a plummeting descent. I needed to remind myself that I was still with allies. Not with many friends, but with allies. I made sure to stay close to Sosima.

Lubo and Varossa both need me for now, and Sosima will have my back. Well, at least we still have a cleric.

After Conchobar led the goblins in battle, I’d noticed he picked up a feat. Everyone was entitled to a feat for every odd level, even commoner levels, but most of my followers just had empty slots. He’d picked up a “performance” called Rallying Tune that let him give his allies a handful of bonus hit points that acted as a shield. That was enough of a surprise that I decided to check everyone else’s stats.

Most of my crew didn’t have anything too exciting, just an occasional toughness feat or boost to a random skill, if that. Aaron had a special class called “Pactbound” which was a kind of NPC class version of binder. What I found on Lubo’s page opened quite a few intriguing doors, but was also terrifying given the specific context.

Lubo wasn’t a level 3 commoner with the Amateur Pactmaker feat anymore, or a Pactbound of Vishgurv. She wasn’t even level 3. She was a level 4 Occult Priestess, a variant cleric that worshipped one of the spirit constellations as a pantheon. She was still listed as my follower, but she had a top tier class and was above the level cap everyone else was bound to. She was as powerful as Sandara had been back on Bonewrack Isle.

She’s still weaker than me for now, but for how long? I’m going to need to take care of her, and soon. Until then, it’s time for her to earn her keep.

••••••••••

Earlier in the day

“Obviously we don’t want to declare open war on Kelizar’s guards.” I said. “If that happens, then we lose even if we win.”

“You seemed pretty chummy with him by the time he left.” Cog said, “That would make his reaction worse. People take everything more seriously if you mix in a betrayal.”

We all stopped for a moment to collectively shudder at the thought of a genuinely pissed off dragon leading an army of mermaids.

He said he sometimes takes day trips to Shenchu Bay to watch musicals. Based on my map, that’s a pretty big area he can cover in a few hours. We’d basically never be safe going back to Port Peril or Heslandaena if he had it out for me.

“Cover story.” Syl said, shrugging. “He doesn’t know what we are doing. If someone arrests you, especially when you’re separated, cooperate and tell them something reasonable. Incidentally, have we considered asking to be allowed onto the ship normally?”

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Varossa said. “We don’t know if he can be convinced, and if we have that discussion and are turned down we circle around to Cogward’s point about betrayal. Even if some of us are caught, we might consider having the rest of us push forward if it is a viable team.”

“Yeah, I think I’m with Varossa on this one. We all need to have the same explanation, though” I said, “I think I know exactly what story to tell them, too. Something perfectly reasonable that we can easily spin as a favor to him.”

It helps that I have a secondary objective that fits the bill.

••••••••••

Sandara didn’t appreciate having long bone spears pointed at her midriff, no matter how pretty the ones doing the job were. The naked mermaid in charge barked orders at both the intruders and her four subordinates, three men and a woman, who were wearing thick whale skins. Underwater Common sounded like a pod of dolphins crossed with a dock foreman the way she spoke it, so Sandara was cast adrift without a raft. Cog tread water next to Sandara, quietly sizing up the opposition. Probably just as a reflex, since they both knew fighting was the last thing they wanted to do.

“Sorry!” Sandara asked loudly, “We’re just here to help with your ghost problem. Our Pharasmite gets an itch whenever he senses undead and doesn’t do something about them.”

The mermaid narrowed her eyes at them, clearly as in the dark as Sandara. She gestured at their weapons and held out an open hand. She spoke clearly and enunciated her words. Her intent was perfectly clear, but her manner of speech did nothing to make Sandara spontaneously fluent.

Sandara felt that she showed great restraint by only feigning confusion for a few moments. Just because their intent was obvious, that didn’t mean she wanted to be too cooperative. Of course, Cog cuffed her on the back of the head after he tossed over his belt of daggers, but that was around the point where the game was becoming implausible anyway.

Sandara reached for her rapier, but while she unbuckled it she traced the skull on her holy symbol with one finger and hummed a few bars from an old tune she’d picked up on her first voyage. As she did, the chatter between the merfolk stopped sounding like dolphins clicking at one another and started to sound like people talking.

Cast Comprehend Languages - you may now understand but not speak all languages

Sleight of Hand to conceal spellcasting

“Lord Kelizar gave them permission to sail through,” One of the spearmen said, “it’s not as if they have no right to swim.”

“They have no right to swim here specifically, though.” The sorceress snapped. “We escort them back to their vessel; they can have their weapons back then.”

•••••••••

None of the mortals on the ship could speak to the mermaids, so naturally it was up to the two immortals to serve as interpreters. Sandara assumed Cave Mother would need to be hauled out on deck, which would have wasted an admirable amount of time and **** the merfolk onto the ship, but they had another immortal on hand that was more than willing to cooperate. After all, as a psychopomp he still wanted the plan to go forward smoothly.

“Sorry, Ma’am.” Emmanuel said, “I’m telling you, The Captain seemed pretty sure this would be fine with your boss. Can we talk to him?”

Sandara gave the skeleton man a quick thumbs up. Both sides of the conversation came through clearly thanks to Comprehend Languages, which was probably for the best. Underwater common sounded like a man strangling on his own vomit when it was spoken in air, so she was happy to get a translation.

“No! Absolutely not!” The mermaid sorceress replied. “I’m not leaving my post for an hour just to confirm my orders! You will bring your captain out and he will order these two to leave my lord’s waters!”

Too late for that, lass. You’ve been out of position for half an hour already, I suspect. Let’s see how long we can make that last.

“Tell her Captain M’Dair is unavailable.” Sandara shouted up, “If you can, try to make it sound like he’s in bed, but make it ambiguous.”

Catrinas were incredibly good liars, as it turned out. It made sense; they were supposed to make the freshly dead calm down and get in line. You weren’t going to get a mother to stop panicking about her still-living child with the truth, not if her **** was any more exciting than a bad flu. The lack of facial expression probably helped too.

“Look, I’m just here for some temporary work. I’m not about to piss off the boss.” Emmanuel said, “Last thing I heard was him giving the order to take care of this whole ghost situation, then he fucked off.”

“Ghost situation?” The mermaid screeched, “That’s what this is about? That ship is off limits, no exceptions!”

“If it’s a safety thing, don’t worry about it, babe.” Emmanuel said, holding up one hand. “This guy knows his business. Trust me, that ship’ll be cleared up in an hour or two if you let those two go do their jobs.”

“Absolutely not!” The mermaid said. “You two, get on the ship! The spirits there are exactly where Lord Kelizar wants them.”

“Hey,” Sandara yelled up, pitching her voice to sound confused, “What’s the worst thing that can happen if you let a haunting stick around? I’m sure you can think of something he doesn’t want growing down the street. Oh, and if she tries to get us on the ship again, remind her about our weapons.”

Emmanuel nodded and tapped his chin with one bony finger.

“Oh, that is bad.” He said, “Look, babe, I’m telling you, you don’t want to let this fester. That negative energy builds up. Anytime something dies nearby, the body will get absorbed. Let a bunch of dead sailors sot around long enough, and you might even get a Boneship.”

“What in the name of unholy Dagon is a Boneship?” The mermaid asked, placing her forehead into her palm, “And stop calling me babe.”

“No worries, Sugar.” Emmanuel said. “As for the Boneship, I’ll admit I don’t know much, but what I’ve been told is real bad news.”

Despite his insistence on not knowing much, the psychopomp went into a long and lurid description of the monster in question. They could devour entire coastal and subaquatic communities, and rivaled the strength of elder dragons. He never paused as he spoke, taking full advantage of the fact that he only breathed or drank for pleasure.

He shared firsthand accounts of people who barely escaped the attacks by fleeing into the jungle and dying days later. After all, those were the only souls that escaped the Boneship’s ravenous hunger.

The mermaid sent a swimmer to go speak to the head of Kelizar’s guards, her blue face very pale. Of course, Sandara knew that a Boneship would only form if the souls were close to a massive sea creature’s corpse for more than a century.

Thank ye, little voice. It’s a pleasure to see you again now that Emrys is back. I think I’ll keep that detail to myself, though. Maybe I’ll let slip the part about a sea creature’s corpse if we need an extra push. Can’t imagine Kelizar wants dear old mum waking up like that.

••••••••••

Damn it. I should have gone for Water Breathing instead of Infuse Self. I guess I just wanted to show off.

Turning into an Undine had many benefits and very few drawbacks, especially if I’d still been human. Unfortunately, it turned out that Undines weren’t as well adapted to darkness as drow. Probably as a way to avoid being blinded by light, but that didn’t seem likely to be a problem down here. I still had darkvision, but it got hazy at around fifty feet away, and cut out completely at sixty. Compared to the one hundred and twenty feet I’d gotten used to, I felt pretty blind.

Can’t use dancing lights on a stealth operation either, not without shielding it somehow.

The Saber’s Kiss wasn’t hard to find. It was too dark to see by normal light, but it emanated a deep blue aura of necromancy that gave us a general heading. Once we got close enough, I took the lead. Varossa knew approximately where we were going, but she was operating on old information.

Looks like drow nobility isn’t entirely biological. I’m pretty sure I still have all of my spells, magic vision included. I guess I’m lucky that Undines have darkvision at all.

Our target was a ship almost the same size as the Enterprise, a firm middleweight in the Shackles. It lay impaled upon a coral reef, partially overgrown, but when we got close I noted a disturbing lack of fish swimming around in this perfect habitat.

“It reminds me of the day we met, Sosima.” I said, shouting so my voice would carry underwater, “Watch out.”

“Let us pray we don’t need to find out what drove the wildlife away.” Sosima said, “I’d rather not face another tide of ghouls tonight.”

“Are we ever that lucky?” I asked.

“No,” Sosima chuckled, “I suppose not. Now then, shall we form ranks for the inevitable?”

“Lubo, you’re on point.” I said, pointing at her. “Swim lightly, signal us if you see anything at all, and be ready for a fight.”

“Of course, Captain.” She said, flashing me a smile with too many teeth. They looked slightly too sharp to be human.

I didn’t have any proof, but if ghosts were insubstantial I assumed that they’d mostly hit us with things that targeted a will save. Lubo’s will wasn’t as indomitable as Sandara’s, but she had a pretty solid will save of +7: more than twice Sosima’s +3. I grudgingly admitted to myself that it would be immensely convenient if she were to get killed down here. I’d still feel like shit, but she’d be out of my hair.

It’s kinda strange; Sosima isn’t particularly easy to wear down. She stayed sane, even as a ghoul. I guess getting mentally beaten down for decades would leave some scars.

I didn’t want Sosima to get possessed for a plethora of reasons. For one thing, she was probably the deadliest all rounder combatant in my crew when she was fully kitted out, so she wouldn’t be easy to subdue. For another, she had an ability called Inspiring Pose that would let her try to cure an ally’s negative conditions, probably with some kind of bardic magic. Without Sandara on hand, that was our best way to undo any kind of curses or diseases we might encounter in the field.

Sandara and Varossa swam to my left and right, with Creed taking up the rear. We would have all been orbiting Sandara if she’d been present, but without her we’d just need to rely on magical weapons to fight any ghosts that showed up. We all had our guards up, but I think I was the first to hear the whispers echoing out of the splintered ship.

“Welcome back Drusilla.” They said. “We’ve missed you. Now you can sail the seas with us forever, just like you wanted.”

I did not miss the way Varossa stiffened at that name, no doubt the pseudonym she’d used here long ago. (Perception 19+12=31)

Well then, Varossa. I hope you’re as immune to ghosts as you are mind reading.