Startup 75: Exit Strategy

Sebastian Plugg sat astride a beast of mangy fur and bedraggled feathers, its dull red eyes the color of blood. The man himself was as artfully cruel as ever, with a mostly shaved head and a new dark jacket hanging loose to show off his abs. He looked down at me like some combination of insect and potential entertainment, and it was entirely possible that he was only restraining himself because he thought I was just some other guy who happened to look like me. In any event, he apparently knew Hinson well enough to cover his escape.

Time slowed, and I looked over at where Conchobar and Rowe were making their way through the crowd. Slowly, so slowly. The rioters were inclined to ignore Hinson thanks to whatever spell he was using, and Plugg’s griffon had a similar if less elegant effect. Unfortunately, something about either Conchobar or Rowe seemed to enrage around half of the rioters even without Hinson actively stirring up trouble.

I’d managed, barely, to avoid being knocked prone by his first charge, but that was a fairly small blessing really. I was still close enough to touch a cat-bird hybrid the size of a horse commanded by a man willing to kill someone slowly over petty theft.

I generally try to keep my gun loaded and don’t waste ammo too quickly. This kind of situation was why. I fanned the hammer on my six shooter, frantically unloading all of my bullets directly at the griffon’s chest, a target too close and too large for me to possibly miss, which unlike Hinson was not protected by an anti-bullet barrier. I was hoping to seriously injure it, maybe even killing it, so that Plugg would be thrown to the street in a pile of sulphuric ash.

I should have kept saving my ammo.

I watched as each and every bullet embedded itself in the creature’s hide, penetrating no more than a few millimeters before getting stuck in the tangled feathers. My chat log filled up with five entries, all helpfully informing me that my flurry of bullets did dick all because strong enough fiendish creatures get DR, apparently. If I’d thought to use divine favor first, the +3 on damage rolls might have punched through with scratch damage. Luckily, I hadn’t decided to go quite that hard.

Autopilot knew his part, and whisked me away onto the ledge of a nearby building, in the general direction Hinson had been running. I left behind my shadow puppet, which used Autopilots remaining move action to try to sweep the griffon’s hind leg out from under it. To my mild shock, this actually worked, and I felt a surge of petty enjoyment when I saw Plugg clutch the griffon’s mane and curse.

I needed the pick me up, because I was in the middle of calculating how fucked I was.

Can the shadow one v. one a griffon? Probably not, at least not if Plugg decides to do literally anything to tip the scales. My shadow doesn’t have DR, and he’s not exactly a powerhouse in the first place.

Do I have any weapons that can hurt the griffon? Not really. I remember fiendish creatures having cold resistance, and I doubt that goes away at the same point they get DR. I also don’t know what material would work on them, other than the fact that it isn’t lead.

If I could make a proper storm I might be able to call down lightning… but that would cost me spell points, take most of a minute to ramp up, and be so unbelievably obvious that anyone who didn’t see a mysterious drow femboy that’s totally not me doing it would assume it was me. No dice.

Suggest that Plugg fuck off? Might work but he’d probably just leave the griffon behind to cover Hinson’s escape. If I remember right he was pretty strong willed, too.

Dispel magic? That might get the griffon out of the picture, but not for long. Plugg could summon every thirty seconds or so, and I don’t know what else he might have picked up in the meantime. That’ll be my emergency option.

*Darkness would mostly shut down Plugg and Conchobar. That’s probably advantage to team Enterprise*, especially since I think Rowe should be able to punch through the DR. So what after that?

••••••••••

Creed started to edge away from the door again, and Filli slowly scraped her nails across her side of the door. He stopped and held up the bottle, and she stared at him again. She knew by now that he wouldn’t toss it lightly. He just wanted to leave, and Filli wouldn't let him. Every time he so much as inched away, she scraped the door, weakening it for her eventual egress.

The men were battering their side of their door with something heavy. It wasn’t breaking through the door quickly, but it did seem to be having some effect. Just a very slow one. If the men got out, Creed would have to face however many crew members were sleeping in the men’s quarters. He wouldn’t be able to stop her then. If he tossed the bottle, she’d break out and destroy him. If he tried to leave, she’d break through and follow. She’d won this duel of wits, from a certain point of view. Every single path forward for Creed was at least a partial win for Filli, and she hadn’t even needed to try very hard.

The only question is which of our allies show up first, and what happens then.

She kept her hand out behind her, hoping that she’d get what she needed to finish this more quickly. Naomi was still out there, and Filli had no idea if she was alright. She had no idea if anyone was alright.

One of the girls finally stopped guessing and asked. Filli felt her chalk shoved into her hand, and her slate tapped against her knuckle. She wasn’t a great writer, especially for common, but she didn’t need to be. She growled at Creed deep in her throat to cover the squeak as she wrote three words, and hoped they would be legible.

“Hog. No skin.”

The small lead stick used for playing hog lob was just about perfect for what she had in mind, assuming it didn’t have the slick covering on it. She’d only have one real chance. She needed something she could throw, and it needed to be something she could throw well.

A minute later, her fingers curled around it. Now she just needed an opportunity. A distraction. Anything would do.

••••••••••

I picked a copper piece out of my pocket, cast darkness upon it, and beamed it at the griffon. With any luck, it would lodge in the creature’s feathers; that way the darkness would follow the griffon around for a few minutes. I didn’t stop to look; I could see how that went in a few seconds, when my next turn came up.

I hopped down from the ledge, mentally ordering Feather Fall as I did. Hinson was still a goblin, and I could probably outrun his stubby little legs now that the crowd was starting to move away from the giant **** bird. My plan was unsophisticated, but the best I could do on an empty gas tank. I rushed Hinson, sprinting after him, thankful for all the cardio I got when swimming away from Heslandaena.

I heard an angry screech that drowned out an equally angry stream of curses from Plugg. Standing provoked an attack of opportunity, so my shadow puppet got to take a free shot while the griffon stood up. It even struck with enough **** to pierce the DR, though the griffon responded in kind. It was an auspicious start to the fight, and more importantly it would make Rowe’s job easier.

Speaking of which, when time stopped and I looked back into my cloud of darkness, I saw Plugg holding up a ball of flame that completely failed to pierce the darkness. He was entirely blind to the half dozen bottle rockets that hung in the air on a clear trajectory towards him and his mount.

Yep, glad to see that Rowe is still herself. See Plugg attacking someone who even might be friendly? That’s a kill on sight order, at least in her mind.

I didn’t have much time to consider that, because I’d managed to corner Hinson. Unfortunately, his cowardice seemed to be more pragmatic than fearful. When he realized he couldn’t get away from me, he drew a cutlass and started yelling for help.

“Help! Help!” He yelled, “This crazy longshanks is trying to kill me!”

Most of the goblins in earshot were too busy fighting their own battles to get involved, but at least a few turned their eyes upon me. They fixed me with the kind of affronted, angry gaze a white guy would get from slinging slurs at a black barbershop. I was an outsider in their home, and I was spitting on their hospitality. It didn’t matter that Hinson was just lying. He was a goblin, at least right now, and I wasn’t.

Alright, I’m not going to win a one versus… uh… eight. Especially not with a bard in the mix. Time for my Uno Reverse Card.

I focused on Hinson, narrowed my eyes, and made a perfectly reasonable Suggestion.

“Just give me the goddamn horn!”

His hand moved before his brain caught up, and what looked like a star in my magic vision was in the air between us. Autopilot caught it pretty easily.

“Thanks!” I said, and ran back towards Plugg with an angry green mob at my heels.

••••••••••

The lock was easier to open than Naomi ever would have expected. What did locks even mean if someone with a few pins could open them in less than a minute?

“Same thing as one lawman against a mob.” Milo said, answering her thoughts, “Deterrence. Make it harder, make it a little dangerous, most people won’t try it. Now move, Dame.”

She burst into the armory, pulling one of the larger shotguns off the wall in passing and letting Milo load it for her. It was small for her, meant for a goblin’s hands, but her hands were a bit dainty anyway. She almost let herself be distracted by the sight of her hands moving at Milo’s direction, but she didn’t have time for that. She holstered the gun at her belt, listening to Milo complain that it didn’t have a safety, and turned to what she’d really come for.

In the back of the armory, there was a small cabinet where the real treasures could be found. The magic arms and armor. She pulled out the pins and started picking the lock on the cabinet, not even noticing that Milo barely had to explain the process this time. She pulled the doors open and grabbed whatever she knew how to use. Mostly, she retrieved a spear that Lady Aulamaxa rarely used anymore and a small silver ring waiting on a shelf.

She slipped the ring on, and a hulking figure in the corner shifted its weight for the first time since Gobron’s Ship was impounded. Naomi was as ready as she’d ever be.

••••••••••

I made a beeline back towards Plugg, which wasn’t a long run; less than a minute had passed since he’d first showed up. I assessed the matchup while I did.

As I’d suspected, Rowe had a lot more luck piercing the griffon’s hide than I did. As little sense as it made that she could fire a gun with substantially more **** than me, she really could. I wasn’t sure how exactly adding her intelligence to her gun damage worked from a non-mechanical perspective, but her intelligence was higher than any stat from anyone in my entire party except my own charisma. That was enough to offset the DR, and Plugg couldn’t really do much about it except command the griffon to charge at her and heal himself whenever he caught stray shots like her bottle rockets.

I’m not the only one trying to play nice with the local authorities, eh? I’m pretty sure Tessa would be more annoyed than angry over him trying to settle a personal score with me, but if he starts setting more fires she’s going to get really pissed, really fast.

Rowe was functionally dueling the Griffon alone, since the Goblettes didn’t have her “gun harder” talent. They could see in the dark and a shotgun was a lot more likely to luck into causing serious harm, but between keeping the blind Conchobar safe and needing to reload after every shot they were mostly non-entities in this fight, my shadow puppet was a relatively minor threat, unable to do more than occasional trip attempts with Autopilot’s focus otherwise engaged. Unfortunately, Plugg knew it.

Rowe looked so small next to the griffon, and it didn’t take long to circle around and pounce on her. Rowe was dangerous, but she really belonged in the backline. She was at less than half health when she nestled the barrel of her gun in the griffon’s beak and pulled the trigger, reducing the summoned monster to dust and spilling Plugg onto the cobbled street. Unfortunately he recovered faster than she did, and his immediate response was to summon another identical fiendish griffon.

*He can summon a new one every thirty seconds, and only has one at a time*. I don’t think I can meaningfully help if she has to fight another one. We might be able to take Plugg himself down if we focus fire, but that could really backfire. He’s no pushover, and it’s not like the griffon is just sitting around while we beat up its master. Even if we take him down, the summon will stick around until we kill it or it runs out on its own. It’ll do too much damage, either to us or softer targets when it doesn’t have Plugg keeping it under control. Yeah, no, I’m not doing that.

I dispelled the darkness, held the horn aloft, and roared out my challenge.

“Hey Sebastien!” I cried, “Look what I’ve got!”

I didn’t hear the command Plugg gave the griffon while he mounted it, but I’m fairly sure it included my **** or grievous injury based on context clues. I didn’t particularly want to give him the chance to do so any such thing, so I pivoted, turned once more into frozen wind, and taunted him again from atop a nearby roof.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?”

I dove to the side as a bolt of fire came flying at me from Plugg’s hand.

I really, really hope this is in fact the best he’s got.

••••••••••

Cog bellowed like a wounded bull when one of the cultists managed to get in close and draw blood, overpowering his bone charms. They’d feared his dagger, and even if he was almost as deadly with his bare hands they grew more aggressive after he’d lost it. Maybe they were angry that he’d fought back and killed two of them, as if traitors could have expected anything less. Maybe they saw an unarmed man as more ****, and to these untrained thugs that meant easy prey. Maybe they were going feral, and the scent of his blood was driving the shark part of them into a frenzy.

Syl took advantage, risking injuries of her own to intervene when the cultists overcommitted. Someone lunging forward to bowl over a target was not defending their hamstrings, even more so if they were pushed off by a man who knew how to brace himself against such things. Fresh blood poured across the floor, scarlet in the light of his eternal lantern, mingling together into pools. For the moment, he could only see those pools as slipping hazards; probably a net positive, given that Syl had much better balance than the cultists.

Another crossbow bolt hammered into him, this time in his bicep. He hadn’t been able to deflect it, and with his charms overloaded already he couldn’t make it just pop out harmlessly. His skin was already peeling. Nearly his entire body was raw, bleeding, crimson. What little body hair he’d had left was scorched off. There was no part of him left that could absorb the damage safely, nothing he could really sacrifice. Most of his bones had tiny fractures laced through them, and he could barely think through the pain. His legs gave out, and he slid to the floor. Two of the cultists kept beating him until Varossa commanded them to focus on Syl and getting the door open.

He tried to find peace. He wasn’t supposed to fear ****. He didn’t fear ****. This, however? This was so… stupid. Pointless. He didn’t know why he was fighting these people; as far as he could tell they didn’t really understand the situation either. This wasn’t a good ****. This wasn’t his destiny. This wasn’t what he was promised.

No. This wasn’t what I promised myself. Pharasma was always very clear. If I can’t accept this, it’s my fault.

Salty tears burnt his cheeks as they ran over raw flesh, watching Syl make her last stand. She wouldn’t last long. They still outnumbered her three to one, and Varossa was fresh.

••••••••••

It was not, unfortunately, the best he's got.

I’ve read up on spirits enough to recognize the spirit Plugg was using to summon. I’d been curious after our first bout, and wanted to know what he was capable of. Forash, the Prince of Spirits, was a bit of a one trick pony even if his one trick was pretty damn beefy. His other powers included a sonic attack that was nearly harmless and the ability to turn invisible for a few seconds. Even that pyromancy trick was more of a fringe benefit granted by all members of the Fiend constellation.

Last time we’d fought, Plugg had been bound to Forash and Vishgurv, which were together enough to get him executed twice in quick succession under the Chelish legal code. Vishgurv was moderately powerful, but mostly seemed to be there to act as a safety net if Plugg got himself killed by ghouls or mutinous drow. He wasn’t bound to Vishgurv anymore, and the way I knew that was quite simple.

Vishgurv didn’t give him the ability to counter my spells, and once I was taunting him with a reclaimed artifact fragment he started doing so quite a lot. I was planning out every single turn for subjective minutes before making my move, but if Plugg was within thirty feet of me there was about an even chance that my energy leap just wouldn’t go off. That was a problem, because my entire strategy was heavily reliant on never giving the griffon a good angle to swoop at me with.

At one point when he managed to block my leap, I managed to get away, barely, by throwing myself off of the roof instead. Feather fall was still up, so while I landed heavily on my back it wasn’t enough to actually injure me. Startle the two goblins that were busy beating the shit out of some random gnome? Yes.

I stopped just long enough to cast Infernal Healing on the poor guy, taking advantage of the narrow space. It was just barely wide enough for two goblins to walk side by side, so if Plugg had been dumb enough to follow me in then I might have been able to get some real distance on him. No dice there, unfortunately.

Alright, did my good deed for the day. I can afford a spell point or two, I think. Tightens up the time table, but I think we can make it work.

Plugg was faster than me when I couldn’t teleport, but his mount was built around pouncing. It kept trying to fly in wide arcs to try to get a good angle on me. I bounced back and forth between alleyways and rooftops, using the terrain to make sure the griffon could never take a clear shot at me as I made my way to my destination.

There was no beating Plugg, not as I was. He’d gotten stronger since the last time we’d fought, which was a problem because he was already strong enough to kick my ass in a straight fight then. I’d won through underhanded tactics, because honorable combat is for when you’re fighting people you respect, but this time I hadn’t even known he was in town. I didn’t have much time to cook up anything.

Plugg kept peppering me with fire bolts from directly above while I buried the groggy gnome in some trash. My foe had positioned himself so he’d be able to follow me wherever I went, without springing whatever trap I obviously set up in this random ass alleyway. I dodged as best I could for a few rounds. I was in a losing position, for sure, but I remembered something very important about Summon Monster spells like the one Forash granted. That meant that my real trap could have sprung just about anywhere.

The griffon’s form seemed to fuzz and disintegrate, and I knew it was about to break apart. Summoned, rather than called, outsiders were in temporary bodies like the ones I made for Ve’ra. Not a ton of the spell’s energy went into making a durable body, because the summoned monster was just meant to be disposable chaff. On the whole I was happy to help the gnome, but I wouldn’t have risked my life to help him if I wasn’t trying to run down the clock without making Plugg too suspicious.

Plugg needed to land and dismount, and that’s when I Leaped back onto the roof near him. He sent the half disintegrated griffon after me, of course. He couldn’t summon a new one until this one was gone, so he naturally did everything he could to squeeze use out of it. It buried a talon deep into my side before disintegrating into dust, leaving behind a dose of abyssal quintessence that burnt like a puree of lemons and ghost peppers applied directly to the open wound.

You have been critically hit by Abyssal Griffon for 14 damage

I won’t deny it, I was not all there for that next round of combat, but Autopilot already knew the plan.

In the very moment that Plugg summoned his next replacement Griffon, I thrust out my hand and quashed the magic with a jet of green light. The body never resolved into a form capable of sustaining life, and fell apart instantly. The abyssal spirit within was dragged back to the pit without delay, and we were but two men standing upon a rooftop. (Dispel Magic to Counterspell)

“Gotcha, bitch.” I croaked out through the pain, and jumped off the roof again, a fireball splashing against my magic resistant skin.

I had about thirty seconds to run like hell, during which Plugg was without wings. If I’d been even slightly less strapped for resources I might have rushed him. Unfortunately, I had nothing to gain from doing something like that, basically just whatever he might have had stashed in his pockets, and a hell of a lot to lose. He wasn’t a slouch in melee, and I was pretty sure he could do 12 damage to me before I could beat him into unconsciousness with my bare, if frosty, hands.

I made a beeline back to the House of Stolen Kisses. It was one thing to head out with a loaded gun, full hit points and all of my drow noble spells ready to go. Now I didn’t even have that. Instead, I was reduced to the only resource I had left.

I flung myself over the walls of the compound, and let Autopilot guide my feet to the back door I’d been told about. On the way, I dropped the horn into my shadow storage, noting with a groan that it was a silver lion instead of the golden Horn of Riches. I barely registered that it still hummed with the overwhelming aura of an artifact.

Whatever. I doubt this is the last I’ll be seeing them, and it did its job as a lure.

I knocked in a special sequence, learned earlier in the day, and the moment the door was opened I gasped out the only thing that might get me what I needed.

“Crimson Cogward is in danger. He’s on the Enterprise in the harbor. He’s already pretty badly hurt.”

Not every Callistrian in the room reacted, but a few did. A few people that knew him, might have seen him grow up. Might have been friends with his mom, or Linu, or him directly. In the moment, I didn’t care as long as they cared enough about Cog’s well-being to do something.

Don’t go to people if you don’t want them to have leverage. Sorry Cog, I’ll take whatever I can get right now.