by A. J. Markam
Tarka just glared at me… and then grinned.
“Want to do it again?” she asked eagerly as she wiggled her ass in the air.
“No, I’m good,” I frowned, and beat a hasty retreat out the door.
“No-good landlubber!” she yelled after me. “Limp dick little frog-fucker! Ass-sucking powder monkey!”
As I walked up the stairs, there was a brief silence.
Then Tarka wailed, “Come back and do it agaaaaain!”
Woo boy.
Somebody didn’t just have issues, she had a whole subscription.
8
I reached the main deck and braced myself for a fight.
Instead I found a party.
The crew were all lounging around, drinking bottles of what I assumed was rum. (It wasn’t tan-colored lemonade, that’s for sure.)
They were sitting on crates, perched on the yardarms, hanging in the rigging, all while laughing and carrying on. Accordion music was playing, and I sought out the source: a tiny demon that looked like an organ grinder monkey. Except the monkey-demon was the one playing the tune on a small accordion, and a hulking demon in a polkadot skullcap was doing the dancing.
What with all the colors and shapes and sizes of the demons running around, it felt like The Muppets Treasure Island but all the puppets got shitfaced.
While the humans had kinky sex below decks.
Speaking of which, I looked around for Alaria but didn’t see her.
At the center of the hootenanny, though, was Stig.
Of course he was. There was alcohol involved, after all.
He sat on a barrel and used two hands to grasp a bottle of rum that was almost as big as he was. Whenever he took a drink, he looked like a toddler struggling to lift a two-liter container of Coke.
Next to him sat the giant grey demon with the lantern jaw and the yellow demon, both with their own bottles.
“Hey bosh,” Stig greeted me cheerfully, his speech slurred.
“Made some new friends, I see,” I said, glancing warily at the grey and yellow demons, who watched me just as carefully.
“Yup.”
“Got over your airsickness, too, huh?”
Stig raised the bottle of rum. “Besht cure for it.”
“I didn’t know that,” I muttered, and looked over at his drinking companions. “So… are you going to introduce me?”
“Thish here is Krug,” Stig said, pointing to the grey demon. Then he switched to the yellow one. “And thish here is Shee.”
“See?” I said, trying to interpret Stig’s drunken pronunciation.
“Shee,” the yellow demon said in irritation.
“‘She’ like ‘her’?” I asked.
“No, ‘Shee’ short for ‘banshee.’”
“Oh – you’re the one with the sonic attack,” I realized, then figured out the nickname. “So they call you ‘Banshee,’ but ‘Shee’ for short.”
“That, and I am a banshee,” the creature said, making it clear he thought I was an idiot.
I was used to banshees in the game being pale, spectral, thin white women who floated two feet off the ground.
“I thought banshees were female.”
“I am female,” Shee growled.
“…oh…”
Stig started laughing his ass off and rolling around the top of barrel at my obvious discomfort. I glared daggers at him, but didn’t say anything that might make my faux pas even worse.
There were absolutely no clues to suggest Shee’s gender – not like Alaria, anyway. No swell of the chest under the pirate shirt, no curves, no femininity at all. Like I said before, Quasimodo and a lemon had a baby.
“…sorry. So, uh… you guys aren’t going to attack me, are you?”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Krug rumbled.
“Might make fun of you for what you’re wearing, though,” Shee said, and the entire crew burst into laughter.
At least I wasn’t wearing a diaper like back in Fernburg, after Alaria burned damn near everything I owned.
“Yeah,” I muttered, looking down at my toga, “I have to get my clothes fixed.”
“We can do that,” Krug said. “There’s a tailor onboard.”
“Thanks,” I said, then grew puzzled. “So… no pressing need to come to the defense of your captain?”
Shee leapt to her feet, her hand on the pommel of her sword and an alarmed look on her face. “Why, what’d you do?!”
I stepped back in alarm, a half-second away from casting Darkfire –
Then Shee’s face relaxed back to its customary ornery-yet-bored expression, and she settled (Shee settled?) back onto her barrel.
The rest of the crew laughed uproariously at my skittishness.
“Oh… ha ha,” I said, forcing a laugh. “That was a joke… right?”
“Yup,” Krug affirmed.
“So… I’m guessing you guys aren’t really fond of your captain, huh?”
“How’d you guess?” Shee asked sarcastically before taking a slug of rum.
“Screw that bitch,” Krug said mildly.
“Which, judging from the sounds coming out of the captain’s quarters, you already did,” Shee snorted.
All the demons started cackling again as I turned bright red.
“You’re red as Alaria,” Krug commented casually as he took another swig of rum.
“You know Alaria’s name?!” I asked, dumbfounded – and then realized, duh. “Oh yeah – she was onboard for almost a week. Of course you know her name.”
“A week?” Shee scoffed. “Try a year.”
I stared. A year?!
What had I stumbled into, some kind of time travel storyline?
“A long time ago?” Shee said slowly and deliberately, as though I were a moron and had to have everything explained to me. “Back when she was Tarka’s bitch?”
I thought about what I had just seen in the captain’s quarters and almost said, Actually, it was sort of the other way around…
Then I realized Shee was talking about years ago – and the reason we were here on this ship in the first place, looking for revenge.
“Oh – when Alaria was her slave.”
I did the math. Considering all the masters Alaria had served for extended periods of time, I was really hoping succubi didn’t age and that she was a lot older than she looked.
“So you guys go way back, huh?” I asked.
“Yup,” Krug grunted.
“Did you guys send me her letter, then?”
“Yup.”
“Wow – thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“You really must not like your captain, then.”
“Nope,” Krug said, and took another swig of rum.
It was a hell of a cautionary tale. Tarka had been flying around with an entire crew of demons that couldn’t wait for her demise. They would have mutinied, except the collars on their necks prevented them from doing it.
I wondered how long it would have taken before my own demons would have wanted me dead – Stig, Alaria –
Dorp.
I looked around the deck. “Stig, where’s Dorp?”
My imp glanced at the other demons guiltily.
“Stiiig,” I said with a stern warning in my voice. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“No, boss!” Stig protested, shaking his head rapidly. Which was a relief, because Stig would often tell you one thing, but nod or shake his head exactly the opposite. It was always the head movement that revealed the truth.
“You didn’t do anything bad to him, did you?”
“No, boss,” Stig said, but this time he nodded his head ‘yes.’
Shit.
“You talkin’ about the chatterbox?” Krug asked.
“Yes.”
“We keelhauled him.”
“You what?!”
“He wouldn’t shut up.”
Shee pointed twenty feet away. Fastened to the main mast was a rope that stretched tautly over
to the railing and then disappeared over the side.
“You could say he’s just hanging out,” she snickered, and the nearest pirates burst into laughter along with her.
I ran over to the railing and looked down. About a hundred feet below, Dorp was trailing along behind the ship, tied by his ankle. Luckily we were a good mile above the ocean.
“Dorp!” I yelled.
“Oh – hey, boss,” Dorp called back in his nasal, high-pitched voice. “Sorry about this…”
“It’s not your fault!” I yelled, and then reconsidered. Actually, it probably was. “What did you do?”
“I just told them all about the Battle of Abaddon!”
Okay, now it made perfect sense.
“Hold on!”
I tried tugging on the rope, but Dorf weighed well over a hundred pounds. It was a bit much.
Of course, I had a ten-foot-tall Arnold Schwarzenegger onboard – who, incidentally, had put my demon down there in the first place.
I turned back to Krug and snapped, “Get him back up here!”
Krug stood up menacingly. “You don’t give us orders. This is still Captain Tarka’s ship.”
“Not so fast,” said a familiar voice.
Alaria walked up the stairs from below decks, wearing a knee-length black coat with frilly lapels and cuffs. Her massive boobs jutted out the front, giving new meaning to the term ‘double-breasted jacket.’ Apparently she had cut slits for her wings, which were folded normally on her back.
She also wore a black, tri-corner captain’s hat. Other than that, it was just her regular boots, bra, and thong.
She was the sexiest damn pirate you’ve ever seen.
“I wouldn’t call it Captain Tarka’s ship anymore, seeing as she’s not exactly fit for command,” Alaria said.
“Did you kill her?” Krug asked.
“No.”
Every demon on board unconsciously reached for their weapons, a look of alarm on their faces. Apparently they wanted her dead, and were afraid of Tarka reaction when she got loose.
“Are you going to kill her?” Krug demanded.
“Probably not for a while,” Alaria said with a smirk. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Depends,” grumbled Krug.
“On what?”
“On who’s going to try to be our new master,” he said, putting a decided emphasis on ‘try.’
“Nobody’s going to be your new master,” I said.
Every pirate on board looked at me in surprise.
“What?” Krug asked, astounded.
“I’m freeing all of you. You can do whatever you want.”
Shee looked at me in shock. “So what the blue guy was saying about Abaddon was true?”
“Yes.”
“I told you!” a helium-pitched voice yelled from somewhere below the ship.
“What about Tarka?” Krug asked.
“What about her?”
“What’s to stop her from attacking us?”
“Well, once I free you, she won’t be able to control you anymore – and, to be honest, we have no intention of letting her out of the stocks.”
“Hm,” Krug grunted. “What do you want in return?”
Actually, I hadn’t even thought about it.
“Just get us back to the mainland, and give us… say, a fourth of whatever gold you have on board, plus the choice of any magical artifacts you’ve got.” I considered for a second. “Yeah, that should be – ”
“Hold on,” Alaria whispered as she yanked me roughly aside.
“What?”
“You’re giving them a priceless gift – their freedom – and you’re getting squat in return.”
“That’s sort of the point of a gift,” I pointed out.
“Tarka’s our prisoner. We’re entitled to the whole damn ship and everything on it.”
“So what do you have in mind?”
Alaria turned back to the crew. “Krug – you still first mate?”
“Yes,” the grey demon rumbled.
“Well, if you want to move up to the captain’s chair, we’re going to need a little bit more than just getting back to the mainland and some gold.”
Krug raised an eyebrow – or would have, if he had eyebrows. “What’re the terms?”
“Passage to six more places around the globe.”
Six more places –
Aha.
With six more ex-masters to kill, travel in an airship would be a lot faster than hoofing it on foot.
Why didn’t I think of that?
“What places?” Krug asked.
“Still to be determined,” Alaria said. “I don’t know all of them yet.”
“Why are we going to these places?” Krug asked suspiciously.
“Because I have some people I need to kill.”
The demon made a face like Okay, I can respect that. “Fine.”
“While we’re traveling, you can keep on being a pirate and attack whomever you want – ”
“No no, hold on,” I interrupted.
“What?” Alaria asked.
“No attacking passenger ships or civilians,” I said to Krug. “And no killing anybody – well, not unless it’s really necessary.”
Every single demon on board stared at me.
“What, you want them to cut off their balls and hand them over to you while they’re at it?” Alaria asked. “They’re pirates.”
“No, I just want them to be – ”
“Wussy pirates,” Stig interjected.
“No,” I said as I glared at him. “Just not murderers.”
“Awwww,” Alaria said, and patted me on the head. “My little moralizer.”
I batted her hand away and shot her a look.
“Wait – isn’t that what you’re doing?” Krug asked. “Flying places and killing people?”
Ouch.
Good point.
“We’re not murdering anyone,” Alaria said, “we’re killing my ex-masters. Taking revenge. Isn’t that the name of your damn ship?”
The demon thought for a moment.
“All right. Six destinations in exchange for my freedom and the freedom of the rest of the crew, plus one fourth of the gold and any magical artifacts we have on board.” Krug looked at me disdainfully. “And we promise not to murder civilians, although I’m going to ransack every damn treasure ship that crosses our path. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said.
“Not good enough,” Alaria said. “I want every pirate on board to swear by the Seven Hells that they’ll abide by the agreement.”
Krug paused and looked at the rest of the crew.
They all nodded their assent.
“All right, then, let’s do it,” Alaria said.
They dropped down from the yardarms and rigging, and fifty demons gathered into a circle and put one hand each in the center.
Alaria joined them and lit a fire in her palm, which spread from hand to hand of each pirate.
“I swear by the Seven Hells that I shall faithfully uphold this pact,” the demons all chanted.
Satisfied, Alaria stood back and nodded.
“All right,” Krug rumbled, “how do we get our freedom?”
It was a bit of a process. I had to attack each of the pirates in turn, getting their hit points down to just 5%. Once they reached that point, Alaria slipped a knife under their collars and cut them off, and then I handed the collars back to them.
But what was this?
My action bar’s slots started filling up as I freed the demons. One by one, little icons of their faces kept appearing next to Alaria, Stig, and Dorp’s.
This hadn’t happened in Abaddon. I certainly wasn’t unable to summon 8000 demons now (which would have come in damn handy).
Then I realized that the mechanics had been different. I had used the Scepter of Chalastia to break their bonds – but I had never weakened their hit points and cut their collars. In other words, I hadn’t gone through the ritual.
I
thought about trying the scepter on the pirate crew, but then I reasoned that it might be in my best interest to be able to bring them back from the dead.
Plus I had the time to do it the long way. There were only 50 of them, versus 8000 in Abaddon. And we didn’t have a deadline like storming a throne room, so I could spend the extra time if it gave me an added advantage.
I continued freeing them the old-fashioned way: draining their hit points, slicing off the collars, then giving the collars back to them. Apparently I didn’t need to forge new collars to make the demons summonable, which was a good thing – I would have needed thousands upon thousands of souls. Merely releasing them from their servitude was enough to put them under my command, or at least into my action bar.
There were so many of them, though, that I had to create a whole new submenu just for the pirates alone. I organized them by color, which was the easiest way of dealing with them for now. Maybe later I would try categorizing them by powers.
One thing was for certain: they were very grateful.
Shee was even uncharacteristically bashful, murmuring “Thank you,” as I gave her back her freedom.
Krug was the last.
“Do you agree to have Krug lead you as captain of the Revenge?” I called out to the crew.
“Aye,” they all answered in unison.
“Any opposed?”
Silence.
“Okay,” I said. “That settles it.”
I Soul-Sucked Krug until he was down to 5%, and then Alaria slipped the knife under his collar and cut it off. She gave it to me, and I placed it in his massive palm.
He looked down at it like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.
If he wasn’t a big tough demon, I could have sworn I saw tears shimmering in his yellow, glowing eyes.
Alaria took off the tri-corner hat and placed it on the grey demon’s head. “Congratulations… Captain Krug.”
The crew went wild, and a jubilant roar went up.
“Now we celebrate!” Krug shouted, and the entire crew scurried to the larders to break out a feast.
A forlorn voice wafted up from under the ship. “Guys?”
“Oh crap – can you haul him back up here now?” I asked Krug.
“Sure,” Krug agreed. He grabbed hold of the rope and hauled Dorp up over the edge of the ship as easily as I would have pulled a ragdoll tied to a piece of string.