I thought that putting a hard line of 5 days of undersea travel to get us away from any pursuit before having a celebration would make sure none of the orcs still had their blood up from our victory, and we could have a ship event that wouldn’t spiral out of control.
Judging by the glee Gnar had sharing the news and the sudden anticipation amongst the boarding team, I was wrong.
I’d already learned that it was best to let Gnar handle the orcish customs, including regularly getting sloshed. Regular dispensation of an alcoholic ration wasn’t new to me as a sailor. It was new to me as a Captain, as I’d previously avoided it to avoid the trouble and shenanigans that typically accompanied it. Gnar had kept his fighters mostly in line though, so I wouldn’t argue his methods.
So I was worried when, after our last victory, no one drank a drop. There was still a palpable lust for a roaring celebration, I’d just postponed it for five days.
Five days of anticipation for some knock-down, drag-out party worthy of an orcish festival.
Bloody stars, I was an idiot.
When I talked to Gnar and tried to move the celebration up by a day or two, he told me that would be seen as an insult or cowardice. I had no idea if that was true or he just wanted his great big party, but again I had to trust him.
Gnar ran the boarding team through an increasingly frenetic level of drills as the days passed. I thought he was going to work them into exhaustion to avoid any trouble, but the effect was actually resulting in a frenzy. I tried getting Jorgagu to explain things to me but the enchanter just looked at his brethren, snorted, and told me to ride it out.
He had a surreptitious smile on his face when he did, convincing me that his non-involvement was some sort of retribution. Bloody orcs …
Travis, Gerald and I adopted a policy we called ‘staying way out of the way’ and tried to have business as normal. My companions liked the idea of unwinding a bit as well, but on a different scale from the others.
Drese had no plans to partake in any revelry, stoic as he was. Nor did he let the threat of orcish festivities bother him in the slightest. All of the orcish grunts had learned that not only was the madu a master life mage, he was also a capable martial artist. All had taken their turn challenging him and – with my blessing – he had thoroughly trounced each and every one of them, earning their respect in the same orcish fashion I had.
The day of the party would be different, but up until then we had the same ritual that I’d instituted as soon as we had more than a handful of crew: wardroom dinning. In principle it was an opportunity for the officers to discuss matters apart from the crew as well as bond together and be mentored and educated by the Captain. I made some adjustments to my own; Gerald was present as a personal friend, regardless of his position as both cook and quartermaster. Drese was present as an advisor, and because his position demanded it. Jorgagu was there as my enchanter. Gnar was there somewhat against his wishes as he saw it as a responsibility and an honor to be eating with his men. No matter how much I decided to trust him, though, I didn’t want him being so separate from me, so individually united with his fighters. Humans and orcs might have different perceptions of authority and command, but I didn’t budge on my position and challenged Gnar to see it as an opportunity to foster the growth of his own sergeants by giving them room to grow.
The result was the five of us usually cramming into my own small quarters while the crew had the run of the deck. The cutter wasn’t large enough to host a wardroom/dining facility specifically for the purpose, and even on most of the naval ships we’d conquered I’d noticed that the wardroom had served dual purposes with some other function.
“Hey, that’s where I sit!”
“Gnar, you lost your spot sitting on the edge of my bed after I had to air out the smell of your farts before I could sleep. Now you have the stool by the door.”
“That was my spot,” Jorgagu grumbled.
“You can sit next to him and hold his hand if you’d like, just leave room for Gerald when he brings the food.”
There was less formality than aboard my father’s ship, true. We didn’t have the backstabbing, cutthroat feuding my father had let develop either, though. We were maintaining the distinction and ‘otherness’ that the naval manuals spent so much time harping on, fostering the perception of leadership among the crew for each member present here at this elite table …
“Gnar, really? Move your hairy backside so I can get in or no one gets to eat!”
If only they knew.
Gerald had put together a culinary masterpiece of sausages and dried vegetables in melted cheese, all looted from a sinking ship. Our policy of always taking the best foodstuffs had resulted in Gerald playing around with his recipes to the enjoyment of all. Perishable items and stuff that was normally rationed out as long-lasting goods were used however our cook pleased. If we ran out we had the basics provided magically by the ship, and while no one really enjoyed the soup Gerald could make out of hardtack they accepted the times it happened as the price they paid for such creations as he laid before us now.
“Gnar,” I asked as I licked melted cheese from my spoon. “Can you share your updates on yourself and the boarding team?”
He rumbled an affirmation and grinned at the others in my cabin. “I have advanced my war leader skill! No longer am I merely a squad leader; I am now a tribe leader!”
Gnar had let me know immediately, of course, but we hadn’t shared it with the others yet. I was excited because Gnar could now have more people directly under him, sharing his usual ‘squad knowledge’ while he was also able to appoint real sergeants under him who had their own bonuses. Gnar was raring to upgrade it even further; not because of the mass of people he could lead – that was superfluous on our ship – but because of the improved coordination and bonuses upgrades involved.
The others looked suitably impressed to me, but Gnar didn’t get the roaring fanfare he seemed to hope for. Jorgagu even leaned forward and gave him a frank assessment as though debating whether he’d really earned the place. He didn’t make a fuss about it, though, and Gnar returned to his meal, grumbling in orcish.
“Two of the remaining non-professionals earned the unique ‘marine’ warrior profession. They are straightforward types and I did not think they had a chance of getting other good options so I had them take it. I have the others walking them through the basics of the profession.”
“All the basics we know if it. Where does that put us in our ratio of professional to nonprofessional fighters?” I was proud of how Gnar was using the human tongue, his example had led to all of the orcs undertaking it, even if they weren’t fans.
“All but five have a combat profession. Those five are the ones we have waiting to see if they can unlock something else. They’re not liabilities with their skills, but I say we don’t leave them too long. Push them too long unto the unknown for a unique profession and you may lose the benefits of a practiced professional.”
I agreed with him but was willing to push the young orcs longer without a profession than he was. They’d all had the makings of the normal warrior profession from the time they signed on with me. Discovering this new ‘marine’ specialty profession with bonuses to naval combat had been an unlooked for blessing, but it made me curious what else they might be eligible for if they didn’t jump at the first good option. My restraint in picking a profession opened me up for the rare profession I now held, after all, and it was far more significant than a simple ‘sailor’ career progression.
“With those 5 in reserve, we have 14 with the marine profession and 7 with the simple ‘warrior’ profession.”
I nodded and pulled up the information on my ship’s interface. Now that Gnar had reported it, the information was accurate. Until it had been logged somehow by someone in charge, it wasn’t accurate. That made it many officer’s job to routinely write the updates down somewhere, as the Captain could then find the information in his interface. There were more skill perks and abilities that made it easier for me to have accurate updated information and harder for subordinates to hide things – most notably my leadership skill level – but I found that getting regular updates and referencing the ship interface was often better than the reverse.
“Drese?” I asked.
Knowing what I was going to request, he gave me an update. “Still only the one student who shows any true potential for learning life magic, Captain, but the 4 I am tutoring should be capable of basic healing spells for the medic roles you desire.”
“I tried altering the blessed weapons we captured,” Jorgagu said without prompting, seeing as we were on the thread of our martial might. “I failed. I never tried working with blessed weapons before, so I don’t know if it’s because of their nature or mine that I can’t do it.”
“Apart from corrupting the nature of blessed damage, I don’t think I would have felt comfortable carrying them into battle anyway. I’d hate for them to be turned against us again. If you say they’re worthless, dump all of them into the deep.”
He nodded and grabbed a heaping serving from the shared bowl in the middle of our table, ignoring the looks he gathered from Gnar and myself.
“So,” Gerald said steering us away from martial discussion to a charting one. “Any update on the ship carrying Hali?”
“Only that it’s slower than I expected, and we’ll catch up to it sooner.”
“Smell like a trap?” Gnar asked.
“Yes. But we’ll take our time scouting it out to identify what they have in store. They have the whole ocean in front of them, I can see the reason of being patient for a while longer to ensure a successful raid.”
Both orcs at the table rumbled in assent, while Drese nodded sagely. “Perhaps, Captain, you could appraise us of the ship’s options for growth in tandem with your own progress since the inception of our raids.”
With any others, I would feel suspicion and hesitation over sharing that information. With these – my lieutenants, friends and confidants – I nodded and looked over my own information before sharing it all, starting with my own growth.
Name
Domenic Seaborn
Age
24
Race
Human (Cursed)
Profession
Captain of the Deep
Level
10
XP
1,186,905
Health
250
Mana
260
Stamina
260
Strength
22
Agility
23
Dexterity
21
Constitution
25
Endurance
26
Intelligence
26
Wisdom
25
Charisma
14*
Luck
19
Skills
Seamanship 19
Swimming 17
Sea Legs 15
Rowing 8
Carpentry 3
Fishing 8
Singing 2
Cooking 2
Analyze 9
Observation 10
Climbing 11
First Aid 5
Lock Picking 4
Stealth 8
Leadership 9
Trade 1
Traps 10
Dirty fighting 4
Artillery 5
Unarmed combat 8
Swordsmanship 8
Small blades 10
Spears 9
Axes 7
Light armor 5
Archery 4
Magic
Air magic
Water magic
Life magic
Ocean magic
Mental magic
Achievements
Lifesaving VII
Trickster
Perks
Adaptable
Heart at Sea
Titles:
Slaver
Patricide
It could be difficult to see many skills stay at the same level for so long, but I had seen growth in several key areas. One of the most important was my leadership skill. My efforts demonstrating leadership and leading the Roc’s Eye to repeated victory had bumped me up another two levels, bringing my total to 9. One more level and I would gain the level 10 bonus. More importantly, each skill level increased the cap for my crew’s overall level. They were all consigned to be capped at my own level plus my leadership level, and while that hadn’t been such an issue with a relatively young crew, increasing their cap from 17 to 19 increased the power of the boarding team as a whole.
Unfortunately when Drese and I had attempted to fight through the lingering effects of Jones’ influence and level up myself, it hadn’t worked. I wasn’t entirely free of the monster yet.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Besides leadership, I’d improved some of my weapons skills, light armor, and even stealth. First aid had jumped through the initiate levels thanks to my healing spell and frequent combat where my allies needed it.
Focusing on the magical section of my stats, I pulled up the area where I’d seen more growth.
Spell List:
Water
Water Push
Water Pull
Freeze
Cone of Frost
Summon Water
Water Whip
Fluid Motion
Water Shield
Cleansing Waters
Air
Air Pull
Air Push
Gust
Air Blade
Lightened Feet
Shocking Touch
Thunderclap
Feather Fall
Life
Heal
Courage
Charm
Ocean
Swift Current Travel
Replenishing Waters
Mana Absorption
The most exciting one on the list: charm! Drese and I had poured over entry level spells I could focus on to develop my mastery, and discussed which options best supported my fighting style and the crew as a whole. Charm had been the obvious answer, and apparently my Trickster title even helped me out in figuring it out faster than it normally took.
The spell had its limits: namely it only had a decent success rate against those level 10 and under – at least until I upgraded it to a stronger version. It took two seconds to cast, and if it failed then subsequent attempts on the same target were even more likely to fail as they developed temporary buffs of ‘mental resilience.’
But oh, the potential! In combat I could turn combatants against each other, I could even target a weak link of a formation like a shield wall and direct them to destroy it from the inside. In covert operations, I could make someone forget they saw me, open up a secured area, or answer questions without prevaricating.
Besides charm, I had evolved freeze into an area of effect called cone of frost. It was a 45 degree, 10 feet long field that was incredibly useful in area control. The downside was that enemies in medium or heavy armor could mostly ignore it until I made it stronger, and most of the enemies we fought these days were wearing at least medium armor.
Naturally, what my officers picked up on and would not forget was the amount of XP that I had.
“You have over a million XP!” Gerald exclaimed. “Is it true that there’s a title that you get for having that much?”
“No, I didn’t get a title …”
“If I may,” Drese interrupted. “Mr. Gerald, the rumors you seem to have heard about gaining a unique title for accruing large amounts of XP is true. However, it is typically not granted to those with rare professions that require large XP expenditures. It’s not outside the realm of possibilities our Captain may attain it in time, but the threshold for his doing so would be similarly difficult to the layman’s acquisition of a million.”
Every set of eyes in the room turned towards the madu who casually explained the stuff of myth. After bearing our surprised expressions for several moments, he gave a short explanation about the kind of knowledge that was accumulated in old sects. It occurred to me that I’d never asked if Nilfheim used the library system or something else, and made a note to follow up with Drese about it.
“That amount is nothing to scoff at,” Jorgagu said. “I’ve invested more in my profession, but I’ve never held onto so much. What are you looking to save up for, Captain?”
I shared my options for professional abilities as well as my thoughts.
Skill
XP Cost
Description
Raise ship (III)
1,000,000
Raise a third ship under your command.
Raise crew (II)
100,000
Can raise departed spirits that have been gone longer. Allows for raised crew to be higher levels.
Summon crew (II)
175,000
Spend mana to create a temporary magical construct to fill crew positions. Improves constructs.
Hide true nature (II)
100,000
Increase the analyze threshold to penetrate your concealment.
Uproot (II)
140,000
Increase your time away from sea from 8 to 14 hours.
Vision (100)
1,000
Increase vision distance in dark/murky waters by an additional 15 feet. (Currently 1,535)
Domain (II)
200,000
Increase the area of your claimed domain.
Remote operations
70,000
Control the depth of your ship at a distance of up to 1 mile.
Stealth (II)
300,000
Enable a mid-level magical stealth field.
Aura
125,000
Increase the sphere of influence of your ship effects.
“I already purchased a stealth field for the Roc’s Eye after our first raid, and I’ve dropped nearly a hundred thousand XP into Vision so that everyone can see nearly a third of a mile even in the depths. I’m hesitant to do more than that yet, as we don’t spend too much time sailing the darker depths and my Domain is a better option than lookouts for that anyway.”
The others nodded along. “The low-level stealth field is good for most scanning capabilities at sea,” Jorgagu said. “But if you upgrade it to a mid-level one we should be able to avoid all but a specialized ship. Those kind of detection capabilities take space and money.”
“It’s worth considering, but at roughly a quarter of my saved XP I’m not sold on it. Sailing under the waves has been our best means of avoiding detection.”
My expert enchanter didn’t seem to agree, but didn’t press the issue. “What are you thinking of investing in?”
“Raise Crew – likely past the third tier – and Domain.”
“Captain,” Gerald said. “When you, ah, brought it up earlier you mentioned some points that I agree with. If you’re certain you’ll have to buy the next level of the ability it makes sense to do it now and get an idea of how much the third tier will cost so you can budget for it.”
It made sense, so seeing the affirming nods around the table I spent 100,000 XP and improved Raise Crew.
Raise Crew (II): Can raise departed spirits that have been gone longer. Allows for raised crew to be higher levels.
Your crew can now have 5 more levels than your own.
Gnar gave a sudden ululating shout as orcs under his command who’d been capped suddenly had 5 levels restored to them. They’d been capped at 19 with my leadership bonus, now their max was 24. The older orcs who’d had those levels under their belts but lived with the handicap suddenly got 5 levels of attributes restored to them with a single purchase.
“Captain,” he said, eyes gleaming. “I’ve got 4 more professional warrior who’d be in the range of the next five levels if you get the next upgrade!”
“While improved attributes are a boon,” Drese said. “Might I advise caution? Captain, what is the price of the new Raise Crew tier?”
“300,000,” I answered. “Within my budget …”
“And perhaps a worthy investment, but let us sound out our alternatives first.”
Gnar settled down. “That’s right. You weren’t planning on getting it, but I think you should really look at Remote Operations as well, Captain.”
“Remote Operations?” I said, surprised. “Why would you suggest that one?”
“Because you’ve boarded our ships with us as often as not. Nothing bad’s happened, but there’s been a few times I was nervous. If you can tell the Roc’s Eye to drop away or come pick us up immediately, without needing to signal Travis, I’d feel a lot more comfortable and it could save our skins.”
“Controlling the depth of the ship would have an impact, but it would not be the only factor in sailing the ship.” Drese said. “I am new to the nautical world, and have been amazed at the level of technicality that goes into simply turning the ship.”
Gerald and I looked a bit surprised, but the orcs nodded. He was right that it took work to do that stuff, but having been a professional seaman for most of my life I hadn’t thought of it as ‘a high level of technicality’ in a long, long time. Then, I imagined a crew of people without any seamanship ability trying to sail a ship and shuddered at the thought.
“I wonder,” I mused, “If there isn’t a synergy between Remote Operations and my Summon Crew ability. I can instantly connect with my ship, it would make sense if working remotely allowed me to instantly give orders to my constructs as well.”
Jorgagu jabbed a finger in my direction. “That’s the sort of synergy you can expect in a solid profession. It’s a reasonable expectation.”
“If the ship suddenly started raising and the constructs started hauling on the halyards,” Gerald threw in. “I’m sure anyone on deck could pick up what was going on and roll with it.”
“The price is among the most affordable options for the first tier,” Drese said. “It could prove a worthwhile safety net for a reasonable cost.”
Seeing their approval, I purchased Remote Operations.
Remote Operations: Control the depth of your ship at a distance of up to 1 mile. (Also acts as the limit for giving orders to summoned constructs.)
I affirmed that the skill did synergize with my constructs and that the cost of the next tier was 150,000 XP. We all agreed that needing to remotely control the ship from further than a mile out wasn’t a priority and that upgrade could stay on the shelf.
“Alright,” Gnar said pounding his fists together. “Still over a million XP to spend, how are we going to do it?”
“We are retaining 300,000 at minimum for Captain’s third tier Raise Crew,” Drese reminded him. “Besides which, while I agree that XP is best invested, there is not a rush to do it all at this sitting. We can contemplate our decisions and return to them.”
“It’s not just the 300,000 XP,” I said. “These are my professional abilities I can invest in, but the ship itself is an endless whirlpool where I can dump XP for improvements. I have never done more than simple, utilitarian upgrades because I’ve never had a ship with permanence – a ship that deserved it. Even the Roc’s Eye is a fast little cutter saved from dry-rot in a cave! It’s not something I plan to sail the seas in forever.”
“It is a little cramped,” Gnar muttered from his spot by the door.
I snorted. “None of my constructs get in your way like a real crew would. Trust me, this cutter could be a lot more cramped.” The orc blanched at that.
“Are your improvements lost when you change ships?” Jorgagu asked.
“Transferred with a penalty. It’s not egregious, but if we’re talking a fraction of a million, that’s a whole lot of XP lost!”
“As we have managed without such expenditures so far,” Drese said, acting as the voice of caution among our group. “I recommend setting a limit of what you like to see reserved for future ship improvements, and add it to your earmarked 300,000.”
“Smart and simple,” Gerald added.
I rolled over figures and estimates for a minute, using my fleet interface to compare upgrade costs between the Roc’s Eye and the Death’s Consort, as the two different types of vessels had varying costs. Thinking about the ship I truly wished to resurrect, I tried to estimate what she would need.
That was thinking too far in advance, though, as I’d earn some XP before then and could always hunt some more if I needed to so long as my bases were covered. “200,000 XP,” I finally said. “Save a total of a half million for the future, and the rest we can invest now.”
“In the morning,” Drese corrected. “After we’ve all had an opportunity to consider the proposals.”
I thought we’d be of a similar mind and the discussion would take 5 minutes, but everyone actually argued for different perspectives. Drese made a solid case for the utility of both Hide True Nature and Uproot, two skills that I’d dismissed out of hand, but his argument was based primarily on diplomacy and communicating with powers on land. Since I ultimately had no desire to put myself in such a position if I could help it and certainly not for very long, they still weren’t my priority.
If Hali had still been inland, that would be different.
Jorgagu thought I should get an improved stealth field and improve my summoned constructs. Gnar also wanted a stealth field but wished I’d spend another 100,000 to upgrade Vision so the orcs could keep better lookouts. Gerald didn’t say much, and when I asked he sheepishly shrugged and said he was secretly curious about me saving up XP for a rare title, but knew it didn’t make any sense.
I listened to my officers because that’s what good leaders did, but I was getting frustrated because the only thing I was set on was Domain, because that was my personal power. Then Drese, realizing that I wasn’t going for the land route, suggested the Aura upgrade.
“It would carry over to your next ship, correct? The perception bonus of the Roc’s Eye is not much, but improving the aura of your ship is a straight power bump and would be a marked difference for your future ships.”
Domain and Aura. I’d never given Aura too much consideration because the ship effects I’d had weren’t exactly tame. The Death’s Consort had created a wild card in the form of Voice of the Crew, but even the mundane Blood Payment meant that his crew had to be careful with cuts and wounds since the effect didn’t discriminate between friends and foes.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought it was the most promising option. Taking Drese’s advice to heart, I declared that in the morning I would plan to purchase Domain and Aura unless someone had any new insight.
“The cost of those two abilities plus your earmarked half million … it leaves you just enough to improve your constructs.” Jorgagu hinted.
“My constructs are useful and even needed here, but I still have designs on a better crew. The remainder of the XP I have will be saved against one of my other expensive abilities.”
He shrugged and let it drop. Finding that it had gotten rather late, they filed out and left me to reflect and rest.
“Don’t forget about the party tomorrow!” Gnar said before closing the door.
Salted fishguts …
I’d made another false expectation regarding the party, and that was that I would have an entire day of dreading it before it began in the evening. Most human revelries started at the end of the working day or sunset, right? Well, those were human revelries.
I woke up in the pre-dawn hours as I was used to and dressed for my station, down to the tricorne hat. I expected to do my normal rounds and surface the ship to soak in the crisp sea air as the sun breached the far horizon before meeting with Drese for training. Instead I found every single orc on deck with eager anticipation.
I blankly looked at them while they obviously waited for something from me. “Well?”
Gnar pushed forward. “Our Captain! Our warlord! These sorry runts claim that they’ve seized a profession, and are worthy of your recognition!”
I sensed the air of formality and tradition and played along, even as I cursed Gnar for springing this on me. “What have these runts done that’s worthy of my attention?”
“Captain! They have braved the frontier their elders dared not, taking to the unknown waves. They have stormed the decks of a hundred ships and carried off their goods as plunder.” A hundred, was it? “They have sworn loyalty to a mighty chief and honored their words.” Was I the mighty chief or was Gnar? “These things they have done, and now they ask for the right of passage. Select the first to proceed!”
Ah, thanks for the hint Gnar. “Mirash! The sticky-fingered rogue who stole the munitions of the enemy out from under their noses!”
Mirash beamed as I named him, stepping forward and giving a roaring war cry.
He was then ringed by the older professionals and relentlessly beaten.
My jaw dropped and it was only Gnar’s signaling that prevented me from suspending everyone until I got to the bottom of what was going on. My eyes demanded an explanation and Gnar reluctantly stepped away from the crowd of cheers and advice of the spectators as Mirash vainly fought for his life.
“Explain,” I demanded.
“It’s a rite of passage,” Gnar said hurriedly. “New professed warriors will have this at a clan meeting but these ones aren’t likely to see one in years, if ever. This isn’t a clan meeting but I figured it was occasion enough.”
“Are they going to kill him?” I asked as Mirash took a particularly bad hit and struggled to stay on his feet.
“Naw,” Gnar said. Then he undermined his statement by adding “Not likely.”
“I would have appreciated a warning,” I growled.
“You’re not an orc, you’re a foreign warlord. I figured however you handled it would be the start of new traditions. Nicely done, by the way; it was very orcish. Jorgagu didn’t give you any hints, did he?”
I snorted. “No, you’ve all managed to completely keep me, your Captain, in the dark. So once Mirash is done …”
“Pick the next one. It’s an honor to be first, but nothing more than bragging rights. Mirash will take the place of one of the older orcs and beat up on the new guy, and it will repeat.”
“And once they’re all beaten to a pulp?”
“Down some hard liquor and start some feats! I was thinking of adapting a death march into a death swim, what do you think?”
“Please tell me I’m not going to lose any of my battle-trained warriors to some drunken revelry.”
“Relax, there’s no fun if you keep everything safe, and we’ve got a master snake brother if things get too rough, right?”
“If you drag Drese into curing stupid injuries, he’s going to be in a bad temper and I’m going to encourage it. You hear me?”
Gnar got a lost look in his eyes. “That’s perfect!”
I tried to find the words to question whatever madness Gnar had just come up with, but a cheer arose as Mirash stumbled upright, his fists held high. Apparently he’d lasted long enough and broken someone’s bone, which satisfied the older warriors to accepting that he’d passed. I didn’t know how he was going to keep fighting in the next ring, even as the aggressor, but standing proud and injured seemed to be a thing.
Expectant gazes turned once more to me. I considered saying something in congratulations to Mirash, but I was feeling the brutality and simply named the next warrior, leaving Mirash to and the older professionals to scramble over who was going to drop out while the next orc let our their own war cry.
I’d made sacrifices for my crew. I’d taken a near deathly flogging to make a point. This was the first time I’d ever supervised the beating of nearly my entire crew.
Travis and Gerald heard the commotion of course and joined me while staring on in shock at the proceedings. Travis seemed the least shocked of us all, and I wondered if I hadn’t been subjecting him to more than I’d bargained for by having him dine with this lot.
After the older warriors had been phased out, the fights looked less like beat-downs and more like brawls, since the aggressors were all heavily injured even if they outnumbered the fresh meat. But then, the standards for acceptance seemed to go up correspondingly as the first to get beaten exerted their dominance by dragging out the bouts on their brethren. I was so glad I wasn’t an orc. Human hazing had gotten creative but never this bad.
Finally, we were down to the last orc. He seemed to think he had something to prove because he was last – in truth I’d picked half of them randomly – and bellowed that he’d take on twice as many as everyone else had.
There were two ways I saw that going. The first was him getting respect for taking on a greater challenge. The second was him getting absolutely pulverized.
In keeping with orcish customs, it was the second one. Maybe it was both, but it was hard to convey respect when your lights were out and a mob was kicking you on the deck.
They left him with some HP, even if he was a broken mess. Seeing the sorry shape the whole lot of them were in, I decided to address them once again.
In keeping with the theme, I told them that the winner of Gnar’s test would be completely healed by me, the next 3 would be doctored by Drese, and the rest would have to beg the madu in whatever way he would accept. I figured the master life mage wouldn’t have a problem handling 3 cases and I could use my replenishing waters spell once at the cost of all my mana. I had to keep the ship constructs up though, so I couldn’t do that too much.
I also wanted to rope Drese into this and have at least a few orcs not be crippled in case of danger.
Gnar proposed an endurance test. Everyone was to swim 50 yards in front of the ship and stay there. If they flagged and the ship caught up, they lost. I liked the test because it would help their swimming skill, even if I had to adjust the ship’s speed to make the test realistic for them.
It also gave me a time-frame where all the orcs were struggling to stay out of my hair, like a parent sending their kids to the docks to get out of the house.
The unconscious orc was immediately disqualified since he hadn’t recovered when the rest started. The old professionals and Gnar also stayed back since this wasn’t their test, and instead started getting casks out that they’d set aside for this. I’d have to surface when they really started drinking, as drinking underwater was a game that introduced a saltwater flavor to everything no matter how well you did.
Impressively, it was past midday by the time we had our winners, the last two fighting doggedly to be number one. I’d rationed my mana and had enough that with a single casting, all of the orcs’ injuries, torn muscles, bruised and broken bones were all restored.
Drese quickly healed the next three, and with four hearty and hale companions the rest were soon troubling Drese over their own problems. I was right that the life mage didn’t get into the boisterous event, but he had his amusement in his own way. He gave each petitioner a different task. Some he told to put their right ankle, hip and shoulder against the mast and then lift their left leg. When none of them could do it and they cried impossibility, the madu demonstrated, leading to a round of every orc on board – Gnar included – attempting and failing to replicate it.
I surfaced the ship and checked that no signs were on the horizon, and then booze flowed like the tide. The old professionals picked up on Drese’s tricks and offered to impart lessons and professional techniques to those who braved their challenges. Gerald had prepared mini bread loaves filled with various assortments from meat to cabbage – with a few seemingly having hardtack as a prank. Everyone explored those with the hunger of a group looking to put something in their stomach so they could hold more alcohol.
Once everyone had managed to get some degree of healing in, feats and contests began. These were shorter, more boisterous challenges than the endurance test. Naturally as the afternoon wore on towards evening these turned to duels, and with a steadily increasing average level of inebriation, it was expected that I would be challenged as well.
I was kind of curious who would be the first young orc brave enough to challenge the ‘warlord’ but should have expected it to come from Gnar.
“Captain!” He roared out, tankard in hand and unsteady on his feet. “I challenge you to a rematch!”
I’d had a sip of aged whiskey earlier, but had kept my wits about me. It was a bad matchup for Gnar, but with a malicious inspiration I decided to make a point out of how bad it was.
I accepted Gnar’s duel, but the moment it began I went all out with my spells. Water whip, air blade, cone of frost, shocking touch … my mana drained precipitously as I used magic exclusively while Gnar squawked about a fistfight. After a thunderclap just behind Gnar’s head knocked his already swirling vision to the ground, I wrapped up the fight by freezing a barrier of water around him. When he reoriented himself and looked up at me, I simply smiled.
“I win.”
With drunken strength he laboriously broke out of my ice and stood. He gave me a salute. “One of these days …” he burped and swallowed. “One of these days I’ll get you to fight fair. An I’ll win!”
I just smiled. We both knew the truth of it: fighting fair was for adventurers and fools, and the difference between those was like the difference between a glass half empty and a glass half full. He grumbled and gave a challenge to the others that involved first placing high enough in a drinking contest, then a brawl between the most inebriated contenders.
I declined any challenges from the others that thought they could weather my tricks, directing them to Gnar. There was disappointment there because leader or not, Gnar didn’t have the levels and constitution to take on all comers. That wasn’t my problem. I’d made my point and didn’t want to lose my progress by getting beat up by my underlings.
Gerald and Travis had made a corner their own little affair where they nursed drinks and watched the entertainment. Jorgagu had elected to join them, dipping in and out of the celebration. He claimed the party was spoiled by the initiation since there weren’t enough people outside of the hazing to keep the party going. I for one found the event we had on our hands to be quite enough and didn’t want to explore what having a separate orcish party run in tandem would look like.
After an hour I excused myself and went below decks to where Drese had secluded himself. He might have intended to remain private, but on my ship I saw all.
I didn’t say anything, just nodded to where he sat slumped against the bulkhead somehow still retaining a sense of poise. I picked up the bottle he had beside him and poured myself a finger. Ah, it seemed Drese shared my tastes!
“Sometimes I feel I live a contradiction,” Drese said eventually.
“How so?”
“I’ve spent my years disciplining myself to become a master of life magic, and now from the seat of mastery I look down and see the weak enjoying life more than me.”
I poured myself a bit more and toasted him. “To living life.” He toasted me, and we enjoyed the burn of a whiskey rated for constitutions over 20.
After several minutes of silence he spoke up again. “I had heard rumors about you before the matriarchs told me I was going to be placed in your command. Some said you were quite impressive. Others said the same thing, but like they’d just chipped their tooth on a block of ice.”
I couldn’t help my smirk. “That’s amusing. I feel sometimes like I’ve only ever scrambled from one thing to the next.”
“That’s oddly comforting to hear. I tend to feel that my life lacks meaning and impact. A bit of wisdom that a mentor gave me was that there was no grand place in the world for me.”
“That was encouraging?”
“The encouragement came in the form of being free to institute myself wherever I so desired: the difference between a cog jammed into place and a ship sailing the sea.”
“Hmm. I didn’t realize that your culture was so free with choosing your path.”
“They are not; a potential disadvantage of a meritocracy. The wisdom of my mentor was lost on me until recently – until I found myself in your employ, that is.” He took a deep breath, as though to center himself. “You and I are alike in many ways, but different in others. Seeing your drive to pursue freedom while accepting responsibility and yoking yourself with obligations due to your mistakes … it has been an example for me. It has given me a perspective that a lifetime of studying life magic did not. Thank you, Captain.”
“Down here, just the two of us, it’s Domenic. I’m not going to pretend that I’ve finished sorting myself out or paying for my mistakes, but I’ve found that freedom needs a purpose. My purpose? First I free Hali, a woman who extended a helping hand to me when I was a morose drunk feeling at the end of my rope.”
“Are you drawing parallels?”
“Of course not, Drese! Of course not.”