Startup 61: Internal Review

Rova 14, after Midnight

I’ve never quite understood the term “walk of shame.” Like, seriously, what’s so shameful about getting lucky? Is it that you got kicked out first thing in the morning? Maybe it’s leftover from the fact that casual sex is kind of trashy? Maybe it’s worse for girls? Probably that; some girls will take any excuse to tear each other apart. Of course, it makes a lot more sense if you got somehow ended up in a strange place without pants, no matter how much of a stud you might be. Even worse if you ended up like that without the sex first.

“I’m sorry,” Syl said when I approached her, naked and trailing smoke. “I’m so sorry. This was a stupid idea. We could have waited.”

She rubbed a white cream into my burns, spreading a numbing cold across my body. I would have liked to let her finish, but Aashaq had almost killed me for wasting her time with a mediocre unprompted present. I was fairly sure that she’d kill me outright if I held up the line.

I pulled on my jacket, which itched horribly against my tender skin, nodded at Syl, and snapped my fingers. The light bent around me, making me invisible to the naked human eye.

“It’s fine; we need to go.” I said, “We can talk about it later if you like, but at least it worked.”

Syl couldn’t suppress her excitement at that, but she had enough tact to not immediately start asking for details. We stepped out of the tent into the pre-dawn light, and the next kobold impatiently shouldered past us. A few spaces back in line, a half-elf turned to his companion.

“Didn’t she go in with someone else?” He said, “Was this a bad idea?”

Judging by the strength of his offering’s aura, he was probably fine. I might have been willing to warn him if he was in danger, but I wasn’t about to reveal my presence just to reassure him.

Syl and I walked back to The Enterprise. I held her hand so she wouldn’t worry, and let her guide me while I looked over this level’s spoils between casts of Infernal Healing. Nothing too incredible, mostly just the standard small stat boosts, a new feat called Mystic Craftsmen that probably helped with making magic items, and a few new spells. I could cast Suggestion as a real spell now, as opposed to only as a special drow power, and I had a new, much stronger version of darkness.

Blacklight was in many ways similar to my standard darkness spell, cast with a third level spell slot. There were two main differences. For one, it lasted one tenth of the time.

That’s bad.

However, it could block sight completely. Even dark vision or more esoteric forms of sight like heat vision.

That’s good!

Of course, I could already block most of that with weather control. A nice, dense fog could do the trick in most situations if I wanted symmetrical blindness.

That’s bad.

However, it had one major perk that made it circumstantially awesome. To my eyes, it didn’t block light at all. My allies would be blind, but I’d have an extremely strong asymmetrical advantage.

That’s good.

The last spell I got was almost unique in that I could think of almost no plausible situation where I’d actually use it. Ghoul Hunger, a curse that I got as a bonus because of being a drow noble, was an absolutely nightmarish spell. With a word, I could compel a humanoid to eat another humanoid that was helpless or dead, largely ignoring self preservation while they did so.

If it was even slightly less specific I could see myself maybe using it in corner cases. Getting an animal to eat carrion instead of my party sounded fine, for example.

What kind of sadist designed a spell like this? Not only is it evil, I’m pretty sure it’s not very useful. It requires that I want to disable someone who is already standing next to a corpse or an **** person. How often is that likely to come up even if I was a deranged psychopath?

•••••••••

In the first mate’s cabin on Gobron’s ship, Conchobar and a drow woman intertwined their bodies on his bed. They had to, as their disparate heights made kissing nearly impossible any other way. She was an eager, aggressive kisser who pressed every inch of skin against him that she could, wrapping her bare legs around him.

“You’re sure you don’t want to wait, Pearlteeth?” Rowe said breathlessly. “The magic will only last another hour at most.”

Speaking to Rowe in goblin was strange; her speech was just as clipped, but she communicated so much more with so few words. Almost as strange was the note of insecurity in her voice, as if she was confused by his sudden receptiveness. She’d kissed him before, usually surprising him, but he’d never been sure how to respond.

“No.” He said, “I’m ready for you now.”

He was hard, and while he wasn’t very large by the standards of humans he had never heard any complaints. He especially didn’t expect any tonight.

“So… what do I do?” She asked, “I’ve never mated with someone before. I know where your penis goes, but I don’t think I’m just supposed to lay quietly. Unless that’s what you want?”

Her smile dimmed, but more in the way he associated with her considering a problem. He’d seen that expression before, when she’d spent all night building a new magic cloak that could blend into any surroundings. He was fairly sure that if she wasn’t interrupted she might suggest attaching a battery to his cock to somehow help it stay stiff.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” He said, “Just relax. If it’s your first time, we can take it slow.”

He reached down and rubbed her mound, which drew out a gasp. Her own hand reached out and grabbed his cock in return. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but she was gentle enough to be pleasant. She smiled and cocked her head at him, her eyes saying “like this?” loud and clear.

Conchobar teased her for a bit, and allowed her to do the same to him. Her perfectly manicured fingernails ran along the length of his shaft and explored his balls curiously. It was impossible to really distract Rowe; she was growing quite wet, but that didn’t mean she was any less curious about the process.

When he was sure she was ready, he lowered his hips and pressed into her. Despite her words, he was vaguely surprised to find that she still had an intact hymen. There were so many ways a girl like her could have broken it, virgin or not. He pushed through, bottoming out a full three inches into her tight hole. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him repeatedly, though her longer torso meant he was mostly pressed against her breasts while she kissed the top of his head.

Conchobar took that as a clear invitation and popped one of her dark nipples into his mouth, gently brushing his tongue around it. He split his attention between hips and tongue, and was rewarded by a tight grip as Rowe came. He’d been wrong; enough pleasure had indeed been enough to distract her completely. She lay back and luxuriated as he pulled back and began fucking her in earnest, meeting his gaze with loving red eyes.

He collapsed next to her; he wasn’t as out of shape as he’d been a few months prior, but he was sated for the moment and needed to recharge. She smiled and clung to him, but not thirty seconds passed before she started asking questions.

“Is man always on top like that?”

“Is that why males like breasts?”

“Where does the tea come in? Do gnome goblin pups exist?”

“So do only you use your mouth, or me too?”

Conchobar knew for a fact that she would remember everything he said. She might not always understand nuance, but the words might as well be written on her hands once she heard it once. He walked her through the process of giving a blowjob, though she was vaguely confused at first.

“Why doesn’t it feel as good?” She asked, rubbing his saliva slick shaft with one hand. “I stuck it in as deeply as it would go, and all it did was make my mouth full.”

“I’m not really sure about the details.” Conchobar admitted, “I know some girls really like doing it, but the main reason I suggested it was because it got me hard again faster. We can switch to something else if you’d like.”

“Oh?” Rowe asked, “Did you not like it? How do I do it better?”

Such exchanges continued, with Rowe intent on optimizing every facet of her sexual experience, leaving Conchobar exhausted by the time that the disguise faded away. In a shimmer, the beautiful drow pressed against him was the energetic goblin he’d come to know so well in the last couple months. She fell asleep in his arms, and it was only when he woke up in the morning did he properly consider what he’d done. He’d exacerbated a problem he’d been wrestling with ever since that impulsive kiss during Kelizar’s visit.

I just took her virginity, and thoroughly at that. I like her, I like her a lot. She’s fun and exciting and once I figured out how to tell when she’s joking she’s even funny. So how the hell do I tell her that I don’t find goblins attractive without breaking her heart?

••••••••••

We got back to the ship after a few minutes, where I snuck on board and rushed to my room to change. I asked Syl to let everyone know what happened and get a report on everything we’d missed while standing in line.

I checked myself in my non-magical mirror, wincing at the pattern of burn scars across my body and brushing out my heat-fried hair. Three spell slots worth of Infernal Healing had brought me back to working order, but I’d need to wake up Sandara or Aaron if I wanted stronger healing that could get my skin back to its former pristine state.

Quick, too. If I remember right, scars set in after a few hours. Can’t be ruining my pretty boy credentials.

My wardrobe was relatively small, so I tossed on one of my stained work shirts. I made a mental note to order a few more shirts from Shethalliahaya next time I had Yael over for tea. Between aashaq and a full day underwater, I didn’t have many shirts fit for mixed company anymore.

Maybe Sosima was right. A laundry person with cleaning and mending cantrips might actually save us money long term. What kind of person with that skillset would want onto a pirate ship, though? Maybe I can find an outsider that can do it.

Syl entered through the single door, closing it behind her softly.

“Nothing that requires an immediate response.” She said, “I’d like to ask something first.”

“Shoot.”

“I know you weren’t exactly in a diplomatic mood,” Syl said, “but I want to be sure you heard Aashaq’s offer.”

“Not much of an offer.” I said dismissively. “She’d be good to have as an ally if I could trust her, but I don’t think I want to deal with someone who’d kill me on a whim. It’s irrelevant anyway; I’ve got a contract, remember?”

Syl gave me an odd, searching look.

“Don’t go thinking it would be a good idea to break contract on my behalf.” I said, “I don’t actually know if I hate anyone in Heslandaena enough to unleash Aashaq on them, and there are at least a few people I kinda like.”

Syl winced at that, telling me I’d hit the nail on the head.

“Anyway, Sosima found a few people that were selling for cheap, like you asked.” Syl said, “We’ve got enough hands to crew the ship, but we’ll still be shorthanded. Rosie couldn’t find a buyer in our price range. Apparently the kobolds all quoted her exactly the same number: 7,000.”

I sighed. It was a paltry number; there were glorified fishing boats on sale for more than that in Port Peril. Nice ones to be sure, but Gobron’s Ship had space for nearly a hundred goblins plus cargo and an engine.

Of course it’s a cartel. Why wouldn’t it be? We’ll try again at the next port. Or just give up. If it’s the same price there as here, I might just sell it cheap to cut costs. Assuming I don’t get my knees broken by some kind of shady ship dealership, anyway.

My confidence about handily paying off my debt was feeling increasingly optimistic. Markets were a real bitch, and I hadn’t done more than surface level research.

“Cog?” I asked.

“Yes.” She answered. “Someone local.”

I smiled at that. I was getting increasingly curious about Miss Lanteri. If Cog identified one of her associates, possibly another clone, then I could send a Zebub to keep an eye on that one. If she had a whole network, that implied she wasn’t just here for a perpetual gap year. It was entirely possible what she was up to was none of my business, but she was a little bit too fast and loose with the lives of her associates for me to feel comfortable with her.

“Lubo came back looking smug, but the other two Gillmen are all still out.” Syl added, souring my mood, “Everyone else got back a while ago; even Sandara, and Cog needed to carry her.”

“Definitely up to something.” I said. “Damn it. Ask around the crew and see if anyone knows where they went.”

“Sure.” Syl said, then paused for a moment, “You know, if they don’t come back…”

“Don’t say it.” I said, “Just because they wouldn’t necessarily be our problem anymore doesn't mean we can just forget about them. I have no intention of leaving behind a trail of destruction.”

“It’s the Shackles.” Syl said, “If they cause a lot of trouble they’ll probably just end up dead.”

“It’s the Shackles.” I countered, “Most people will ignore it until it affects them personally.”

“We have our own problems!” Syl said, throwing her arms up, “We can’t just waste another day here!”

“No,” I admitted. “I’ll look into it as much as I can, but we leave tomorrow morning no matter what. I promise.”

Syl huffed out a sigh, but didn’t argue.

I scrolled back through my log, wishing it had a better UI. Everything that anyone on my crew had done that had a chance of failure, from Narwhal holding his liquor to Rowe and Conchobar getting freaky, was included. After almost twenty minutes, I did find Stanley. I found his last moments in cold text.

Stanley failed to break grapple.

Stanley was crushed for 9 damage by Unknown Assailant

Stanley has died.

Would you like to remove Stanley from your party Y/N?

My breath caught in my throat. I’d lost crew members before, at least temporarily. I had several people in Goatshead, swapped into whatever bodies Jerry had lying around if their own corpses weren’t available. They were still in my party. They were, for a certain value of the word, fine. Both Stanley and the other Gillman, Ricard, were not. I didn’t have their bodies. If no one on the crew could figure out what happened to them, they were just dead.

Is this some big coincidence, or were they killed because of the Vishgurv thing? Is there Gillman racism I don’t know about? Why weren’t Sosima or Lubo targeted?

“Emrys.” Syl said, cutting through the spiral. “Speak out loud. What did you see?”

“They aren’t missing.” I said, “they were murdered. Scramble the crew; I want their bodies back on the ship before we have to leave. Move in teams of at least three plus an officer.”

We might even salvage this. If they died, that means the pact is over, right?

••••••••••

Despite the thoughts swirling through his head, Conchobar did manage to get to sleep. Rowe wasn’t an unpleasant presence in his bed, and he really was quite tired. Unfortunate, then, that he was awoken only a few hours later by a pounding at his door.

“All hands!” Rosie called, audible throughout the whole ship, “All hands to deck! Captain M’Dair needs everyone!”

By the time Conchobar was awake enough to understand the assignment, Rowe was already up and half dressed.

“Wait, no!” Conchobar said. “You can’t go out, remember? Unless we get you another disguise…”

“It fine.” Rowe said in distracted common. “No talk, just follow you.”

She pulled on a long sleeved cloak next, pulled up the hood, and covered the lower half of her face with a plain mask. Conchobar heard a faint hum, and slowly the cream sailcloth shifted in color to match the wall behind her. The splotchy color gave way to a tableau of the cabin, giving the illusion that she was made of transparent glass.

“Why still in bed?” She demanded, “Need pants.”

Just like that, they were back to work. Conchobar didn’t even know if she’d cared about their coupling, not for sure. He wanted to talk to her about it, but that could wait until after whatever Emrys needed them for.

Conchobar considered the excuse, saw it for what it was, and left to join the search party anyway. He snatched up the Horn of Riches on the way out; hopefully he wouldn’t need dangerous magic, but it seemed better to have it.

••••••••••

We spent the wee hours of the morning looking for our fallen comrades, eventually locating one in a rental sex dungeon of some kind. At least, I hoped it was intended for funtimes; I didn’t want to assume even this town had a no-questions Airbnb intended for keeping unwilling prisoners.

We only found it because a man with a shattered leg was making a scene, begging for help from anyone who would listen. He was delirious with pain, and passed out when a thoroughly drunk Sandara healed him. I hated to leave him behind unquestioned, but I showed my Zebub his home before we left with the tide. Even if only by letter, I intended to get answers.

When we returned to the ship and retired to cabins, half the crew was busily prepping the ship to set sail. Before heading to her cabin to get some much needed sleep, Syl pointed out the obvious truth.

“You know there’s a chance that this was internal, right?” Syl said, “I could believe one random ****, but two people this close to one another? It has to be someone that knows them, or knows about Vishgurv.”

“Yeah, I thought about it.” I said. “Who, though? Lubo might do it if there was some kind of ritual reason, but she was off casting a spell that lets her talk through shadows at that time. I don’t think she did it, and Sosima is even less likely.”

“Naomi or Aaron?” Syl pressed, “Cave Mother might have put them up to it.”

“Not strong enough.” I said, shaking my head, “Stanley wasn’t a big guy, but he got plenty of exercise from all the rig work and the lot is very clear that he was grappled and crushed by an unknown assailant. I’d be more willing to believe Cog did it.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He probably wouldn’t.” I said, shrugging, “he’s got the strength and skill to pull it off, though. I can’t think of anyone else on the crew who has both of those going for them.”

••••••••••

On a nearby roof, Gobron peeked over a wall at the two ships. He cupped his hands around his eyes as if he were holding binoculars. He had a cousin who insisted that doing that helped him see better, and while Gobron wasn’t seeing any difference he figured it was worth a shot.

“Still nothing, Gobron?” A voice asked from beneath his feet.

“Indeed, Lafloo. I saw Captain Pearlteeth go and speak to Aashaq with one of his servants, but no sign of Crowe.” Gobron said. “By the way, try to not speak. You shift around more when you do.”

“Yes Gobron.” Lafloo said with a sigh.

After only six hours serving as a footstool, Lafloo had become rather unsteady. Gobron would have preferred to cycle through his underlings, but the mutinous cowards had all fled after he’d sold Bierre into slavery to buy supplies. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, after all.

“Is there any chance they used magical disguises?” Lafloo asked.

“Perhaps…” Gobron said, “There was that portly gnome accompanying the drow woman… but no. Why would someone as lovely as Crowe ever voluntarily make themselves hideous?”

“To avoid unwanted attention?”

“Unwanted attention..?” Gobron said. “Don’t speak at all if you’re only going to spout nonsense.”

“Yes Gobron.”

“Well, I suppose we will need to send a letter to Miss Bekyar to request a replacement ship.” Gobron said. “I’m sure she will be happy to know we are still tracking them.”

“Oh right!” Lafloo said. “He released some of your crew from captivity when he arrived, right? I’m sure one of them knows his heading. We can ask them!”

Gobron kicked Lafloo in the side of the head.

“Nonsense!” Gobron sang, drawing out the word for emphasis. “They are traitors! We will need to interrogate them.”

“Yes Gobron.”