With the Imminent Huntress halted, Myers is easily able to position the Timbergrove next to it. When he does, Quasi single-handedly lifts a large plank and plots it between the ships. When Quasi steps on the plank, Myers yells.
“We need to tie the ships first, otherwise a heavy breeze could push us apart. Here!” He throws several ropes at Quasi, who struggles to catch it with his clawed hands. Then, with suppressed disgust, he watches the Fenrimorph struggle to manipulate the rope into a knot. Eventually, the knot is made and the ships are fastened.
Quasi walks aboard the thick bridge and arrives back on the Timbergrove. When he nears Myers, the old man’s hands warily go to his cane. The movement is not lost on Quasi.
With a waft of smoke, the Fenrimorph disappears and is then replaced by the smaller feline form. At the same time, three finger sized metal objects fall to the floor.
“Oh right,” the cat notices the pieces of metal, “I was shot. Well, this is neat. I won't have to ask anyone to do surgery to remove the metal.”
“Those are bullets, yea?” Cillian asks eagerly. “That means there's a gun?”
“Yea,” Quasi raises a paw, “the guns somewhere on the deck next to a Runed sword. You can-”
Cillian doesn’t allow Quasi to finish before running off in search of said weapon.
“Right, he’s a gun freak. Anyway, Myers, thanks for not running off- or I guess flying off.”
Myers nods slowly. “That form you had. You’re a Fenrimorph.”
Quasi raises his eyebrows. “You know what it is? Interesting, I thought it was a unique monster for the test, but this is good. I don't suppose you know if there is a way to turn back?”
Myers shakes his head. “No- but more importantly. How are you able to remain sane? All those infected eventually give in to the beast's instincts.”
“Damn, so no simple way of changing back. Annoying, but somewhat expected. As for remaining sane? That's not really difficult. It's all about suppressing instincts- of which I have nearly ten millennia experience. Now, the more annoying part is when there's an Alpha present. The mental and physical pain those things apply is bonkers. It’s like a tooth ache across your entire body.”
“Are you saying you are ten thousand years old?”
“No, I’m saying I am almost ten thousand years old. I think I have another fifty years before I hit that age.”
“Thats…”
“Later,” Quasi waves a claw. He then points at the Imminent Huntress. “I wanted to ask, could we fix and sell the ship? The damage seems superficial.”
Myers frowns at the shift in subject, but he allows the change for the moment. “It is indeed superficial, but it’s going to need a large dock to repair. Once repaired, finding a buyer would be simple enough for a destroyer. The main problem with this is getting the ship to a dock.”
“Can we tow it with the Timbergrove?”
“Yes, but it will slow us down. We’ll also need a skeletal crew for the Imminent Huntress.”
Quasi tilts his head and pounces on a nearby railing. “Any nearby ports we can use for repair?”
“For a destroyer class? Either Lignum’s port or we continue to Breston. Any other port isn’t going to be large enough.”
“Damn. We can't very well return to Arbor- so that leaves Breston.”
“Or you can just take whatever valuables are on the ship and then set sail. It is a far safer option,” Myers explains.
Quasi gives Myers a look as though he’s going to throw up a hairball.
“Not an option! We do not leave perfectly good- relatively good loot behind because it’s risky. Now, let's go meet our new temporary crew.”
____________________________________________________________________
Boarding the Imminent Huntress, Myers and Quasi make their way to the portside of the ship- where six [Pirates] are tied up and watched by both Irmgard and Boriss.
“Comrade fluffy, you are small again,” Boriss says with a grin.
Quasi snorts at his new nickname.
“Yup,” Quasi nods. He hops up on a barrel and gives a toothy grin towards the wary [Pirates]. “For now. But I can get big whenever I need to. I hope I won’t be given a reason to,” He exclaims while making eye contact with all six.
Having seen their comrades slaughtered by a monstrosity they’ve never seen before, they quickly nod in understanding of the implied threat.
“Good, because as of this moment, I am going to give you two choices.”
The [pirates] stop avoiding eye contact and now listen intently to the talking kitten.
“The first choice is death.” The [Pirates] continue staring as though such a choice is expected.
“The second involves crewing the Imminent Huntress under my orders until we make port at Breston. At which point, if none of you have caused me problems, you will be given your freedom.”
All six [Pirates] seem to have their spines stiffen. Hope flares in each man like they’d just downed a shot of tequila.
“I’m guessing you all choose the second option?”
All six nod.
“Perfect.” Quasi looks to Irmgard. “You’ve led an entire prison. Do you think you can handle these six?”
“Leicht,” She answers.
“Perfect. Boriss, cut their bindings. Irmgard, I’m putting them in your care. They are to follow your orders to the letter. If they refuse, you’re free to kill them- or torture them. Whichever you think is best. I think this will level your class.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Quasi pauses for a moment. “Speaking of which, I’m going to also offer you the [First Mate] Job. I’d give it to Boriss, but I don't think it fits him. Hopefully I’ll unlock a better option later.”
“Best person for job,” Boriss answers happily. “Is good communist saying.”
“Thanks for being understanding. Now,” Quasi looks at the new crew members. He quickly points at the youngest of them. “You, what's your name?
“D-Daveed, [Captain].” he stammers.
Quasi hops up on the young man's shoulder, “Well, Daveed, I am giving you the honors of leading me to all of the ship's valuables.”
“Yes [Captain].” The man answers quickly. He hops up from the floor and starts walking to the entrance of the ship's hold.
As Quasi’s mount leaves, he overhears Irmgard setting the ground rules, which involve explaining the various torture techniques she can and will use in case of insubordination.
Near the hold’s entrance, Cillian waits excitedly with a gun in hand and cutlass on his ship.
“Oy, Cillian, you found the gun. Is it any good?”
Cillian looks up with a frown. He glances at the unfamiliar face, but quickly ignores it for the speaker. “Well, it’s weird.” He clicks open the gun's cylinder. “It's a rather well-designed revolver, except it has a three bullet cylinder. It can only shoot three times before it needs to reload.”
“Ahh, so that's why I was only shot three times. By the way, the stopping power of the revolver is pretty weak. I think my pipe-gun from prison was a lot stronger.”
“Gun-powder,” Cillian raises a bullet up to Quasi. “It’s much weaker than the shit you used.”
The cat nods. “That makes sense then. My muscles were able to absorb the bullets pretty easily.” Quasi looks at Daveed. “Speaking of which, Daveed, do you know who manufactures these guns?”
“T-the uhh, Stone-kin.”
“Stone-kin? Is that another species?” Quasi asks.
Daveed nods slightly so as not to disturb the kitten that could easily transform into a monstrosity. “Yes.”
“Huh, so these Stone-kin can manufacture firearms. That's useful to know. I’ll have to ask Myers about the various species later- honestly, I need a map. Daveed, does this ship have a map?”
“The [Captain] might have one.”
“Perfect, we’ll pick that up after we look at all the loot.”
“Loot?” Cillian’s eyes bright up. “Are there more guns?”
“I don’t think so,” Daveed answers. “That one in your hand is the only one. The… former [Captain] stole it from a [Courier Captain].”
Cillian frowns. “How rare are guns?”
“They are very rare- only the wealthy have them.”
Cillian sighs.
“It's fine.” Quasi waves a paw. “We’ll produce our own and of better design and quality. We just need to get a hold of some resources.”
Cillian’s eyes widen in realization. The short man grins excitedly. “If guns are rare, we could produce better and superior versions. We could also price them a wee lower than what's on the market.”
“Yup, but that's later. First we need funds. Daveed, lead us to the hold. Let's see what loot we’ve managed to obtain.”
_________________________________________________________________________
Unlike the Timbergrove, the Imminent Huntress is an order of magnitude larger of a ship. It has more holds, more rooms, more everything. But, in actuality, the space difference isn’t that big when you take into account the fact that the ship requires a lot more maintenance. Unlike a cored ship like the Timbergrove, the Imminent Huntress needs a lot of crew and a lot of resources to keep the ship running. This all takes up a decent bit of space.
“Here's our hold.” Daveed waves his hand.
The hold is, unfortunately, somewhat sparse. Boxes are stacked through the center with barrels roped to the sides. Cillian walks up to a box and removes the lid. A smile gets plastered on his lips.
“Oy,” he reaches in and retrieves a cutlass. “These are weapons! Are you selling arms?”
Daveed frowns. “I-guess? Nobody but the [Captain], [First Mate], and the [Quartermaster] were allowed to know what we were carrying.”
Quasi tilts his head. “Oh, right. Cillian, I’m gonna give you the [Quartermaster] job. Is that alright?
“Sure?”
“Perfect. Now go check the rest of the containers.”
Cillian does just that. Not only weapons, but they also find perfectly good leather armor- including several brigandines.
“Where were you headed with all this equipment before your ship got hunted?” Quasi asks his mount.
“We were heading to Breston.” the man answers.
“Oh? Does Breston need weapons and armor?”
“It sells for a lot.” Daveed explains
Quasi frowns. “Are you from Breston?”
“I- I have family there. Yes.”
“Perfect!” Quasi grins. “Congratulations Daveed, you are now promoted to my honorary mount when we get to the port.”
“But you promised.”
“I did. Freedom at Breston. By the time I leave Breston, you’ll get your freedom.” The cat grins towards the dejected former [Pirate].
_________________________________________________________________
“Where are my weapons?” A man in a velvet brigandine strides into a carpeted room smothered in runelit lanterns. His hair is shoulder length and wavy, with eyes bordering between green and brown. A strong jawline is closely covered by a trimmed beard.
The [Steward] looks up and frowns. “My [Lord], can you not knock?”
“I am the [Lord] of Breston. I do not knock, Janice!” He bellows.
The [Steward] gives him a brazen look, and then sighs. She points at his feet. “Under the carpet is an electrification rune designed to protect me from intruders. The power rune is at my feet. I’ve yet to turn the damn thing on because you keep barging in!”
The [Lord's] cheeks blush even though his expression displays none of the turmoil. After all, he was the one that requested she install protection in her office.
“That matters not,” he quickly changes the subject “I ordered Brigandines and Cutlasses to expand the [Guards]. They should have arrived already.”
“You requested armor and weapons from a [Pirate Captain].” She corrects. “No money was traded- only that we agreed on a bulk price. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone else offered a better price- or more likely that [Pirate Captain] was hunted down by a [Bounty Hunter].”
“Nonsense.” The [Lord] waves his hand. “Menston’s a [Pirate Captain] of a Destroyer. There's no [Bounty Hunter] willing to risk their ship and life to take him out so far from the major powers.”
Janice reaches down and grabs a poster that she plasters on her desk for him to see.
Wanted Dead: Menston Faverim
Menston Faverim raided a [Courier Captain] carrying a special ordered Pistol meant for [Duke] Forefield. He no longer needs the weapon- but he does not like to be stolen from. He requests the death of Menston Faverim with the reward of 10,000 Trist for successful completion.
“Oh.”
Janice nods. “Oh is right. With this kind of reward, I imagine Menston’s already dead.”
“But what of my equipment? The new [Guards] are already in training.”
“Then they will have to make do with what we can scrounge up from [Traders].”
“But their quality is atrocious,” he whines.
She gives him another scathing look. The thought of turning the rune on passes through her mind. At the same moment, the [Lord’s] expression takes on the look of someone heavily battle-hardened. He hops outside the room and then unsheathes his cutlass. The cutlass instantly ignites with a swirling flame.
Janice gives the [Lord] a surprised look for a moment, then snorts. “How is it you’re a savant in combat, but when it comes to administration, you need to rely on your dear sister?”
The [Lord’s] serious expression wavers to a pout. “You just thought about electrocuting me.” he accuses.
“I did.” she acknowledges. Her foot moves a moment and the carpet seems to light up. “The rune is now powered. Make sure you knock next time.”
The [Lord] sheathes his sword and sticks out his tongue at his sister in the most unlordly way possible. Then he closes the office door and walks off.