Startup 93: Cross-Promotion

My entire body resonated with the beast’s roar long before I saw it, and I saw it long before it arrived. The sea serpent was gargantuan, with huge dark eyes and a dangling teardrop lantern lure growing from its head that gave me the distinct impression that a train was hurtling towards me and Sandara.

My sorcerous transformation helpfully provided me with the Aquan equivalent to the word fuck, which I muttered to myself while waiting patiently for the beast to approach. I was running low on magic; for whatever reason, she’d decided to faff about right near the island as the monsters attacking us got progressively bigger. All the while, the kraken drifted quietly right at the edge of my vision.

I needed to put more effort into holding them off with frost blasts and the occasional summoned Dolphin sacrifice, peppering them with enough magical cold to drive them off before they could close in. An enemy that was staggered by my cold blasts could only take one action per round, including reactions. No matter how fast they might be, if they were consistently staggered then they’d use up their turn closing into melee, I’d slap them with another blast, and Sandara would swim away without giving them a chance for a cheap shot while we disengaged. It was perfect, assuming that the enemy failed their save every round. When they didn’t, Sandara needed to stop and heal us from the inevitable injuries.

When I’d finally gotten enough breathing room to demand an explanation, Sandara had responded with a single hand sign. I didn’t even know when she’d learned it, and knowing her she’d sought it out just for a moment like this.

“Trust.”

Do I trust her? By the gods I wish that was an easier answer. She lies as easily as she breathes, she’s reckless, she’s obviously making this up as she goes, and she believes in herself far too much sometimes.

Heh. Stones in glass houses. So this is what that feels like from the other side. Alright, Officer Quinn. Lets see if you’re worth what I’m paying you.

The sea serpent was altogether too large for me to be confident about keeping it at arms length with just my frost blast. As a rule of thumb, big beefy things have a much higher fortitude save, and this was a solo creature. Based on the trend I’d been tracking, it was roughly level 15. I wasn’t certain that I could stagger it once, let alone every turn.

It’s reflex save, though? That is probably shit.

As it closed in on us, I tightened my legs around Sandara’s waist. I was still riding her like some kind of weird underwater pony, relying on Ride the Waves to move us around far faster than either of us could hope to swim unassisted. I waited until it was just within range and brought my hands together in a silent clap.

A rush of warm water washed past us, and the sea serpent crashed headfirst into a gargantuan ice cube anchored to a nearby rocky outcropping. The cube cracked, and I could see the serpent’s head driven like a nail more than halfway through the conjured ice. I followed up, spending another precious spell point to conjure a tube of ice five feet thick, pressed tightly around its fins, limiting its movements to wild thrashing.

It looks like it’s built for forward motion. Backing up might not be in its move set at all, or it might just suck at it, like a gator opening its mouth.

The serpent’s tail whipped around wildly, kicking up clouds of gold coins and sunken treasure. Alas, I wasn’t lucky enough for it to accidentally drive a magic harpoon into its own serpentine nuts. I readied another frost blast, but Sandara grabbed my wrist.

“Wait.”

Her magic pushed us into what was clearly a carefully chosen position, with us facing the serpent and watching it flail its way through the ice from a vantage right near the surface. Behind us, the mysterious ship moved to intercept, blocking our path to the blessed isle. Sandara held up her hand, shaking the “Wait” sign every few moments. I consumed my last fourth level spell slot to top off Infuse Self. I had a feeling we were in the final stretch.

Finally, the kraken, still right at the edge of my vision, reached out a tentacle and smashed through the ice, releasing the serpent before drifting back and becoming nothing but a silhouette once more. Sandara pointed at the serpent, and I let fly with another blast close to my maximum range. The serpent zeroed in on us, and Sandara had us rocket backwards, skipping along the surface at an angle with the serpent in hot pursuit.

Massive plumes of water exploded a few dozen feet from us as the ship’s cannons started walking their fire in our direction. I wasn’t an expert, but they seemed awfully close to their mark for a first shot. Sandara howled with laughter, which only grew more breathlessly manic as she cleared the water from her lungs and a gargantuan serpentine head breached the surface, snapping at where we’d been only moments before.

Suddenly, the cannons that had been getting dangerously close to hitting us with each barrage turned their fire upon the serpent. In seconds, the beast’s head was reduced to chum by cannons calibrated to hit things much closer to their own size. Then I heard the exact last thing I wanted to hear from Sandara at that moment.

“Well that was a lot quicker than I expected.” She said, breathless with excitement, “I might need to improvise for this last bit.”

That’s when thin tendrils of green magic latched onto Sandara’s Ride the Waves spell, and we abruptly found ourselves pulled towards the black ship with its tattered sails.

••••••••••

Dierdre was still smiling with wicked glee as she found a likely crevice to lodge the Horn of Honor into. The madness was a bit uncouth, but seeing the confusion on the crew’s faces, the masterful way Syl had seeded madness among them? It had been a delight. She proved to be an adequate protege, for the moment.

She noted a hanging woman in a rather fetching red satin dress to serve as a landmark. It would be easy enough for Dierdre to gather up the horn when she returned for it later, and nearly impossible to see from below.

Her return to the ship was interrupted when she saw something far more interesting. Two women darting around, clad in armor of yellow and black chitin and carried aloft by glinting crystalline wings. A brawl, here of all places! How diverting.

You know that one.

Dierdre drifted in closer, curious about the circumstances, and belatedly realized that she was indeed familiar with one of the combatants. She’d only seen the brown haired former elf once before, at least in her true form. Shishe had overwhelmingly been taking on one role after another for the duration of their acquaintance.

She seemed a competent enough sort, though from the golden divots in her flesh it seemed the other had gotten the upper hand at least once.

She’s not going to win. She’s running.

That really was a shame, but Dierdre had no business engaging in brawling. Perhaps if she could bestow a blessing of heroism upon Shishe? Oh, but then she’d need to announce herself lest the servant of Callistria panic and lash out at her. Dierdre was a lady of the court for the moment. She must put such petty concerns as warfare behind her.

Nay, coward. You were a knight first. That is a comrade.

That was perhaps true, but it was lifetimes ago. That Dierdre, the Atomie, was dead, mourned, and reborn. Fey were what they were. It was the way of things. Pixies did not focus, Orphne did not labor, and Danthienne did not brawl. It was simple.

The other Vendenopterix darted forward with a kick. She clipped Shishe’s wing, forcing her to right herself by clinging to a rocky outcropping. Her delicate wing was reforming, but would take precious moments to do so.

“Die, traitor!” The stranger yelled, diving towards Shishe.

“Halt!” Roared Dierdre, before she knew what she was doing. “I am your opponent!”

Dierdre’s invisibility faded as she Shouted, letting out a wall of sound that knocked the enemy entirely off course. She wasn’t supposed to use Shout unless attacked first. That was the etiquette, the proper form to which she must comport herself, and she cast it aside when a companion was in peril, as she must.

She itched to draw her blade, but she had no such brutish implement. Instead she angled her body as if she did, and called arcing golden sparks to her hand that hummed and smelled of ozone. Lightning danced across her fingers, meant to rebuke unwanted hands upon her body. Today, they would be put to more active use.

“Have at thee!” Dierdre shouted, and lunged forward on gossamer wings.

••••••••••

Syl’s team slipped past the ship’s defenders, trusting in the confusion of battle and their stealth suits to keep them safe. They didn’t have the whole ship memorized, but Syl had picked up enough to be able to guess a route out onto the deck without much trouble. Once they were actually on the deck, however, they faced a problem. There were quite a few people in the way, rushing around the deck and fighting off a mass of Karkinoi.

Syl had nothing against the elves personally. They were the enemy, but Emrys was right. The Enterprise didn’t have the resources needed to go about stealing the whole ship. Even if every single whore that Naomi and Cog were trying to recruit eagerly signed on, they’d still be slightly understaffed for hurricane season. Now that they’d secured the engine with Mariana, the ship was no prize. Killing everyone on their way to back up Sosima would delay the rescue to no benefit, even if it wasn’t also likely suicidal.

The Karkinoi were also a problem. There weren’t as many of them as there had been Ghouls on Bonewrack, but each of them was substantially bigger than Filli and covered with heavy shell plates. Laurent’s crew had a steady, professional response to the behemoths, sticking them full of long pikes to control their movements and then peppering them with handguns and short bows. It took a team of ten elves working together at least fifteen seconds of brutal labor to finish one off. Syl didn’t have that kind of manpower, though something in her gut told her she’d win a fight against just one.

The rocky outcropping at the foot of the arch was easily 100 feet away; they’d need a boat.

“We steal a boat and shove off the next time one of the Karkinoi crawls aboard,” Syl hissed, “Conchobar, you will row while the rest of us guard against attacks. Understood?”

There was only one elf standing guard near the lifeboat. Syl had only just decided to finish him off when Kiko and Sora rushed forward. Conchobar and Syl could only watch in shock as the Tengu rushed the poor man, twirling their blades like batons flashing in the light. The demonic swords bit deep into his back, his shoulder, and his neck, momentum carrying them through a scuffle lasting less than a second and leaving behind a man in three pieces.

The two Tengu stopped on the opposite end of their victim, perfectly still for only a moment. Then, as if a spell was broken, they relaxed and looked at the fallen elf and then each other. Syl swore she heard a stifled giggle, and they slapped each others’ palms. An entire torrent of self congratulation was visible in their eyes as they pulled their arms in close, fists pressed against their chins.

“Very nice.” Syl said, “now get the damn boat!”

••••••••••

The moment she felt Ride the Waves stolen by the Kelpie’s Wrath, Sandara cast Water Walking upon both herself and Emrys. Easy enough solution. She wasn’t in the water, so the magical current couldn’t properly do much to her.

Problem? There was still a storm to worry about, and that meant the surface was bucking like a wild horse.

Silver Lining? That meant that Sandara and Emrys were spending half their time inside of deep valleys of water between two waves, or launched into the air, so they were moving targets and it was basically a wash.

“Go! Go! Go!” Sandara yelled, coughing out water. “Run for yer skin!”

“Bug out?” Emrys asked.

Sandara thought for a moment, then shook her head. Not quite yet.

“Give me a minute!” She shouted over the pounding rain, “I’ll try something first.”

The two of them went flying up and down the shifting waves, and Emrys did his best. He pulled handfuls of copper and silver out of his pockets and wrapped them in darkness, creating bubbles that blocked the Herald’s line of sight. That was all well and good, but a legendary ship was just a wee bit faster than either of them. Emrys might have been able to outpace the ship in a sprint, but he was too much a gentleman to leave Sandara behind.

Sandara took a moment to center herself, and then belted out a song.

“Oh the ocean waves do roll

And the stormy winds do blow

While we poor sailors go skipping at the top

While the landlubbers lie down below”

It was a spell she’d seen once before, and finally Besmara had let her borrow it from the armory. Of course, she couldn’t cast it half so well as Kelizar, but she only needed to harass one ship.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have the luxury of looking back and enjoying the view. Not for long, anyway. She glanced over her shoulder for just long enough to see the Kelpie’s Wrath slip into a raging whirlpool, just as she’d intended.

She felt the stolen Ride the Waves return to her, and the whirlpool faded away. So he could only take one at a time, and more important? He was distracted.

“Bug out!” She yelled.

••••••••••

“Easy fix.” Cog said. “Have me whipped and removed from the brothel.”

Naomi stared at Cog blankly.

“You’re not mad?” Naomi asked, “She’s accusing you of attacking her. Holding her down and forcing her!”

“Yeah, and she has the bruises to prove it.” Cog said, shrugging. “It was a fun scene.”

Naomi was staring at him in horror. Cog rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ve slept with more women than I’ve kept track of.” Cog said, “When I’m working with professionals, I tend to just ask them what they like to do. We can work something out where we both have fun, and I didn’t even think twice about it. Roughhousing is more popular than you’d think. Given the look on your face, much more popular than you’d think, specifically. Linu really quite likes that I’m bigger than her. My sex life is not what’s important right now, though.”

Naomi took a deep, centering breath.

“Right. Right.” Naomi said, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, though. They’ll all believe Silk’s story if we confirm it. Even if they sign up, they’ll think you’re some brute.”

“That’s fine.” Cog said. “Better than staying with someone manipulating them.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Naomi said. “There’s got to be a better option. Something to make her admit what she’s done, so she can’t wriggle out of it.”

Naomi realized, quite suddenly, that she had the answer already.

Milo! Why didn’t you remind me!

Can’t be holdin your hand forever, Dame. You’ll be moving along to greener pastures soon. I’ve only got one active ability. I don’t think that’s too much to ask you to remember.

••••••••••

Dierdre circled Alice so quickly that it was nearly impossible to track her with the naked eye. Had she been upon the ground there would have been a chance, but she needed her wings steady for most flight. Rapid turns, especially constant ones, would only result in Alice falling into the drink.

She lashed out with her claws, as best she could, but even when she managed to get a hit in she only managed to bat the fairy away. As a noble of the fey courts, only weapons of great magic or unforged iron could pierce a Danthienne’s skin. In return, Alice was gifted a jolt of electricity that disrupted her liquid core badly.

If her claws could not pierce the creature’s skin and her magic was meant for weak minded mortals, Alice had only one more tool to call upon. She jabbed her hand out again, not to strike but to capture. Her fingers elongated, turning into a net that the little fairy could not escape. It was fast, but it was not strong.

She brought the doll-like figure to her lips, and kissed it. Her lips released a special version of her slime, meant to siphon off a fraction of the target’s essential nature. She didn’t bother with anything deep; she drained the little creature’s strength. Such a small frame likely didn’t have much of that to spare, and Alice had another foe to address once she finished off this nuisance. Her strength tasted like ambrosia, as all such deadly kisses did.

The little fairy kept struggling, refusing to succumb to the rapturous, addictive pleasure of being fed upon.

“Unhand me you brute!” She shrieked. “I will have your head!”

Alice kissed her again, and she stopped struggling. However, in the moment of triumph, when the strength flowed uninhibited into Alice, her body jerked downward.

A massive weight settled upon her shoulders, that of a rat nearly the size of an ogre. Its claws bit deep into Alice’s wings, tearing the membrane and coating the rat-thing in golden sludge. All three of them went plummeting towards the surface of the sea, and the rat leaned in to whisper into Alice’s ear.

“Dear Sister, your mind is too narrow. You must keep your mind open for new tools, new forms.” She purred in Shishe’s voice, “What a shame it is too late for you to learn that lesson.”

They landed upon the water, and Alice’s carapace shattered. The rat-thing Shishe had turned into was softer, less brittle, and apparently ready to finish the job. Blobs of golden slime went flying everywhere as Shishe’s terrible claws ripped Alice apart.

Once the mass lost all consistency and began dissolving into maelstrom quintessence, Shishe glanced around and snatched the little orange fairy up. Dierdre was limp, but breathing.

Good. She didn’t drain enough to stop the poor thing’s heart.

Shifting away from Filli’s delightfully violent form to that of an immature Karkinoi sally, Shishe retreated. She needed to get dry before she could fly again, and she needed to get this little fairy out of the line of fire.