Well at Least I’m a Magic Pirate Now

Erastus 21

A swarm of small green men and women stormed onto the ship, forcing my dispirited, exhausted crew to disembark with shouted words and brandished weapons. A second wave of goblins rushed below deck, securing any valuables they could find. They dragged my prisoners out of confinement, escorting them at knife point into a huddle along with the rest of the crew. On the rocky shore, the leader of the goblins jabbed his preferred weapon at me, demanding money.

“This’ll run you about a hundred gold pieces for the preliminary inspection, and you’re lucky it’s that cheap with the stunt you pulled.” Coyle, the dockmaster, explained, “we take appointments for a reason. If you’d walked in on someone mid-squibbing, our standard confidentiality agreement would have obligated us to take violent action upon you.”

I turned my gaze upon my unrepentant goblin crew member, Rowe, who was impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched the proceedings. The three foot tall green girl was my ship engineer, in charge of repairs and maintenance, and brilliant in that role. She was also the one who had insisted that we couldn’t afford to waste a second before bringing The Man’s Promise to her uncle’s secret dry dock for repairs. She’d pushed for us to sail through the night and past the illusory curtain of leaves hiding the entrance.

I’ve been reliably informed that Rowe was a real knockout by goblin standards, if a bit skinny. Her grass green skin, messy black hair that dangled to her shoulders, and network of wrinkles formed by her constantly shifting and highly expressive face were the very picture of goblin beauty. Her mouth was full of razor sharp, uneven fangs, and her eyes were bright red orbs with huge black pupils that expanded when she was excited. Goblin beauty standards did not match my own, and the feeling was mutual. I've had absolutely no problem with ladies in my own size category, but when I’d been shrunk to her size once she’d looked me over briefly before pronouncing me “too skinny.”

“What?” She asked, affronted, “We have bribe money. Uncle is soft for family.”

“So what you’re saying is that you would have been fine?” I asked, deadpan. “Are you sure that would apply to the rest of us?”

Rowe rolled her red eyes and started speaking to Coyle in rapidfire goblin. Autopilot, the impersonal entity that I shared a body and mind with, jumped in to try to parse the conversation. I have absolutely no idea what they are saying. Goblin is a silly and dense language with a great deal of nuance conveyed through intonation and context. It is all gibberish to me. (Linguistics 4+2=6 Fail)

Well thank the gods you tried. That clears everything up. 

My crew was huddled together defensively, forming a loose wall around a few who had managed to keep their crossbows, but I’d led them out of worse situations before. I stared down Sosima, my quartermaster, who was glaring at the little people around her with disdain. When I caught her eye, she took her hand off her sword, visibly forcing herself to relax. The rest of the crew followed suit, doing their best to look contrite. (Intimidate 13+11=24 success)

I don't care if you dislike them because they are short, bald, aggressive, or low class. Do not offend the mechanics working on our ship. 

Coyle jabbed his finger at Rowe’s chest, clearly irritated. She responded with her trademark toothy grin, full of yellow teeth. The dockmaster turned to me, took a deep breath, and switched to common.

“Alright. If she’s right, this is probably going to run you about 600 pieces by the end of the process.” Coyle said professionally, “that includes a basic rework of the ship’s profile, patching the hole you punched in her, and detailing. You’ve got barnacles, by the way. Don’t worry about that, though. They’re included with the standard package. You don’t have an engine or any hazardous materials, do you?”

“There’s a possessed statue over there,” I pointed at Cave Mother, “but I don’t think she’s particularly dangerous as long as you treat her with some basic respect. I’m sure your men are competent enough to avoid damaging a marble statue, right?”

“Of course they are!” Coyle said, waving over a bookish human assistant to hand me a contract. “Sign.”

I carefully looked over the slip of paper. It was extremely sloppy by modern contract standards, but mostly consisted of a list of services they would, or could, provide. I crossed out “full restock” and “Emplacement maintenance and repair,” as they were vastly overpriced, not included in the initial price estimate he’d given me, and I could take care of them myself. The total came out closer to 700 than 600 after that, but it was still within my budget.

“With those amendments, you have a deal.” I said, handing the contract back to the human. “What would you prefer we do while we wait?”

“Leave. Go to town for week,” Coyle said. “Or stay in guest quarters for free. We can hold prisoners in cells until end of day. After that we charge extra.”

He pointed at a huge, grass and mud covered building slightly inland and a smaller brick hut closer to the dry dock as he mentioned them in turn. My prisoners, two men and a woman, were roughly escorted to the little hut. Once the prisoners were off, the goblins slid a pair of large straps under the ship. The Man’s Promise, large enough to comfortably provide a home for more than 50 people plus cargo, ascended into the air on the massive cloth loops.

“I’ll take care of them before that, I promise,” I assured him, then turned to my crew. “Alright men, carry the cargo to the guest hall. Once we are set up there, form up. We have things to discuss.”

••••••••••

The guest hall was caught somewhere halfway between a poorly lit warehouse and an underground cavern. Dozens of unfinished wooden pillars haphazardly spread across the single room held up the ceiling, and I was inclined to believe that the goblins completely forgot that other species needed light to see based on the lack of windows. Nonetheless, there was enough space for everyone to haul in the contents of the ship and we had enough lanterns to create a reasonably well lit area.

It took perhaps three hours, during which I made sure to do my own share of the work. I was captain. I didn’t know how things were done in the navy, but I knew that few things got an employee’s hackles up quite like watching their manager passively supervise. My shadow was a hell of a lot stronger than I was, and mentally commanded by Autopilot, so I formed a two man team with myself to haul some of the heavier luggage.

I’d earned plenty of brownie points on Bonewrack for my heroics, but that didn’t mean I could take their loyalty for granted. Given the conversation I was about to have with them, that went double today. I quietly cursed at myself for not having a pair of burly outsiders summoned to assist as well. I checked with each of my officers, signaling to each in turn to form a loose wall between me and the rest of the crew as they formed up. (Bluff to convey a secret message 16+11=27 Success)

I resisted the urge to fidget as the men formed up. I’d only been in this job, this world, and this body for a month and a half and I’d already placed myself into a position of authority. I had no intention of throwing that away, but I was keenly aware of how precarious my position was. I only trusted a handful of the people present, and among those I only trusted one completely.

Even Syl didn’t know everything yet. I could prove that I was granted missions that gave me powerful rewards by the expedient means of showing off the swag; telling her that I was actually a human accountant from another world with advanced technology and no magic sounded too much like insane rambling in my head. I hadn’t been able to broach the subject. I felt like I really should, but I worried about shaking her perception of me too much.

Right now I’m a powerful elven sorcerer. I’m exotic, mysterious, and brilliant. Would any of these people follow some random graduate?

“Alright men,” I said, mopping sweat from my forehead, “I’d like to think I’ve been a good captain since I took the position, but I’m keenly aware that none of you were asked. You all signed on under Harrigan, and I have no illusions that you all followed out of pure love and loyalty to me. The Admiral and I have very different management styles and I gave his son a good thumping, so I don’t think I’ll be rejoining the fleet.”

The men whispered among themselves. I let them. I was sure they’d been expecting some form of this conversation for the last few weeks. I’d overheard or been told many of the rumors, and knew about half the crew assumed I was going to press them into service. The more paranoid among them expected threats of violence, the more reasonable assumed I would be withholding their pay if they quit now. After about thirty seconds, I cut them off.

“I’m going to offer each of you a choice.” I proclaimed. “It’s a real choice; I won’t punish you as long as you pick one of these options. First option, you leave. I don’t want anyone here following me because they feel like they have to. Take your share of the loot, take anything you can prove is yours, and get out of here. You can leave alone or you can go with Plugg. Be aware that Goatshead isn’t the safest place to start a family, but I’m sure you can sign on with someone else if you really want to. Hell, if you send them my way I’ll speak on your behalf to any recruiter. You’ve earned that.”

Best to start with that one. Let them know what the baseline is. I’m not kidnapping anyone, unlike some people. Of course, their share will be based on a conservative estimate, but walking away with 35 gold pieces and a good review is enough they shouldn't go hungry. 

I wasn’t surprised to see a few of the men trying to shuffle out right then and there, but they were intercepted. Crimson Cogward, my second mate and a tower of muscle, silently shifted into their path. I trusted him to handle the situation.

“Please stay until the end of the presentation. Second choice, you stay on temporarily and we all know you’re not long for this ship. I’m planning on heading to Port Peril soon. From my understanding you should be able to book passage anywhere else in the Shackles from there, find another ship, or settle down and get a job in the big city. Whatever you do, that’s fine. I’ll expect you to earn your keep and you won’t get much say, but you can hop off whenever you like.”

I nodded at Conchobar, my gnomish friend, who seemed likely to leave once he could do so safely. He was a decent guy and knew a little magic, but he didn’t have a head for danger. I suspected Salyar, the chef, would leave too the moment that he could catch a ship back to his home country. I’d earned a measure of trust from the crew, but if they didn’t want to live a life on the high seas I wasn’t likely to change that.

“The third option, and my preference, is that you sign on long term. Promise me you’ll stay for at least the next year, and I’ll let you vote on matters of policy and what jobs we take. You’ve all proven yourself as far as I’m concerned. I’d be glad to bring any of you along so long as you keep working as hard as you have so far. You’ll get a fair share, and I’ll support you in anything you do, as long as it’s reasonable.”

Reasonable meaning “we are likely to at least break even, you have a really desperate need, or we have nothing better to do.” This isn’t a charity. 

“You can change your mind any time until we shove off.” I finished. “The goblins tell me that’s likely to take at least a week. You’re all at liberty to go get drunk or look for another job, but if you come back and we have work for you we will pay extra for working on your days off. We need to resupply, and I imagine you’re all sick of rice and salted pork anyway. Quartermaster Aulamaxa will hand out your pay, but most of the loot isn’t in coin right now, so there’s a limit on what you can withdraw. Be frugal until we can sell it off. The goblins have guides to bring you into town if you’d like. You’re dismissed.”

The huddled mass of around 30 people looked up at me quietly. There wasn’t a lot of enthusiasm at the last option, more's the pity. I was proposing a very risky course of action. I didn’t have any legal backing; I didn’t even have a real plan for what to do with the ship as of yet. I was going to be a sitting duck for a while, and needed to avoid annoying the real pirates until I could reliably fight them off.

Shit. I’m going to need to recruit. I’m going to need to recruit a lot. 

••••••••••

The guest warehouse had a large table where my officers and I gathered for a more intimate meeting. The men didn’t need to worry about details, but I liked to have some kind of itinerary in mind. Sosima, as my quartermaster, went over the dismal state of our stores.

“In conclusion, we have escaped the frying pan and gone straight to the bin.” She concluded, “I haven’t seen the market here at Goatshead, but I suspect much of our funds will be funneled into replacing our supply of everything from rope to salt pork and fruit, and if we can manage it we should pick up some livestock to supply us with fresh meat.”

“S’there anyone we need ta report to?” Aaron Ivey asked nervously. “I know we’re docked with these goblin chaps, but does this island have a lord we should have a chat with?”

“Not on Goatshead.” Sandara, my sailing master, answered with a laugh. “If a bunch of no names like us tracked down Sweet Wilihem just to announce ourselves, he might shoot us in the leg for bothering him. He’s not even technically lord here, he’s just the strongest person.”

As a priestess of Besmara, the goddess of piracy, Sandara was something of an expert on pirate dynamics. A slim, pretty redhead, she knew exactly how thirsty men could get on a long voyage and fully embraced it. She kept a sword on hand for those who didn’t understand restraint, but she calculated everything else about her outfit and demeanor to encourage interest. I’d seen how long it took her to pull her tight black leather pants on in the morning; I was fairly sure they were slightly too small for someone with an ass like hers, but she wore them basically every day unless she expected a fight.

Not all girls are dressing exclusively to tease guys, but Sandara? Sandara definitely is. 

“Not to be excessively rude,” Sosima said, preparing to be exactly that, “but I was under the impression that your lords tended to simply be the most powerful resident of an island.”

Sosima, my quartermaster, wasn’t originally from the Shackles. Indeed, she was from a very powerful empire known as Cheliax that largely saw the piratocracy as a bunch of savages play acting. Sosima was a highly educated noblewoman, a disciplined military officer, and a classical Chelish beauty. She had generous curves, luminous golden eyes, flowing blue-black hair, four pack abs, and toned legs longer than some members of my crew were tall. She’d recently become part fish, but luckily for appreciators of the female form like myself, that meant blue highlights in her hair and tastefully scattered patches of scales around her joints and neck.

Sosima often saved me the trouble of looking stupid by asking pertinent questions, sometimes very bluntly. I was actually from the outskirts of Washington DC, but the body I'd been shoved into belonged to a dark elf that had been living in the Shackles for more than a century. I really should know this kind of thing.

“Not always.” Cog explained, “Generally it’s the strongest person who wants the position and can hold it, yes, but there are other requirements. Wilihem isn’t on the pirate council as a point of principle. He doesn’t think there should be any kind of formal government for the Shackles in general or Goatshead in particular.”

Cog, full name Crimson Cogward, was a brawny 6 foot two man I’d seen facing down a miniature Kraken with nothing but a knife and his faith to protect him. He kept his face and scalp both trimmed short, and had a dark tan. He worked hard to maintain his sculpted physique; it wasn’t one that came naturally from hard work. He wasn’t as huge as some guys I’d known in my old life, but he was a hell of a lot stronger than any man I’d met.

“What about the Sea Shanty Clan?” I asked, confused, “don’t they basically run things around the docks? They have guards posted and everything.”

“Security,” Rowe answered smugly, “Sea Shanty Docks, Sea Shanty Shops, Sea Shanty customers. Everyone rent space, and goblins protect goblin property.”

“That’s just feudalism without a formal crown.” Sosima said, “So your uncle is the lord?”

“De facto, but not de jure.” I cut in, catching on, “so Dahk runs everything but isn’t formally in charge of the island?”

“No!” Rowe objected, “Sea Shanty only controls docks. And good shops. And safe places to live. And fishing. And most farms. Lots of shitty places on Firegrass Island that goblins don’t control.”

Aaron and Sosima stared at Rowe for several seconds, as if their brains needed to reboot after such a ridiculous statement. Thankfully, my snowy eyed first mate stepped in. Syl was a whip thin, stern woman who’d dropped out of fantasy med school to become a pirate. She was brilliant, pragmatic, ruthless, and the person I trusted most on my crew. She was athletic, with smooth brown skin and curly black hair she usually tied back with a bright yellow scarf.

“We have already reported to the only person in power likely to care.” Syl said firmly. “I’d really like to eat something other than a bland curry, so can we move this along? You wanted to get Rosie a prosthetic, right Emrys?”

Well she lost her arm following me into battle, so absolutely yes. 

“Right.” I nodded. “And I’d like to ask around about potential investors. I’ve got a few people in mind for that. There’s two more problems I think we need to address before the end of the week.”

“You need a bath and Plugg is still alive?” Sandara guessed, “I bet you could find someone to off him if you wanted to here. I understand the local assassins have very reasonable rates.”

“For the last time I’m not murdering Plugg.” I groaned. “I’m hoping that once he’s out of sight, he’ll be self obsessed enough to stay away and focus on his own advancement. We’d probably all be dead if he hadn’t been there on the ship, so no matter how much of a little shit he is I think he deserves to live this time. If he tries to fuck with us again, I won’t be this nice again.”

Excuses. Honestly? I just don’t like the idea of killing a person in cold blood. Even if I outsourced it, that’s one hell of a line to cross. I think I could have killed him when we were fighting, but now? He hasn’t been able to bind any spirits in weeks and he hasn’t made any attempt at escaping. He doesn’t feel like a threat even if this might end up biting me in the ass later. 

“So bathing and what else?” Sosima asked with a light smile. “I don’t suppose it’s a new wardrobe, or hiring a magewright tailor? I would kill for the opportunity to wear a dress that doesn’t smell of vinegar and seawater.”

“That last guess is close.” I said, dragging the conversation back on topic, “I am pretty sure we are going to lose at least some of the crew, and we were already short staffed. We need to start recruiting. We need enough hands on deck more than we need specialized magical laundry services, but if you can find someone that’ll do both I’ll be ecstatic. Unfortunately, I don’t want to kidnap people, and to legitimately hire someone you need to pay them. That means we can’t be sitting idly all week. We need money, so I need you all to keep an ear to the ground for leads. Ways to pay our way in town, and ways to strike a profit when we leave.”

“Wait. You don’t have a plan for how to turn a profit?” Cog asked, nonplussed. “How did you plan on getting sponsors without one? Hell, how were you planning on paying the crew for more than a month or two?”

“I have plans,” I answered defensively. “They are mostly just things that I can do personally, and I don’t think we should make a habit of leaving the crew sitting around idle in times of need. I’m still new to the captain thing, that’s why I have you guys. So shoot: how can we make money?”

••••••••••

More due to lack of time to spare doing this as a second book correctly than anything else, I decided to just post this as part of the same book.