Troy resumed awareness a few seconds later.
He was standing in front of a mirror, a little washbasin set below it filled with clean water. He was human and-oddly-looked rather a lot like he had when he truly was human a few hours ago. Just more handsome. Maybe it was the way his jaw was set, or how his cheekbones were positioned-tiny little tweaks, as any good plastic surgeon would say, make all the difference. He scratched his 5’oclock shadow, raked his light brown hair away from his ice-blue eyes and smiled.
Troy was wearing a sort of western-inspired outfit-as though he’d gone to a store in town and asked for something cowboy-themed. It was an approximation, and it looked cool. He wore suspenders over a navy blue tunic, holding up a pair of denim jeans. Ornate stitching ran along the bottoms of the jeans. Leather cowboy boots with buckles on the sides cushioned his feet, the spurs jangling as he paced around the room, and a heavy belt with a large ornate buckle supported his quick-draw holsters that held his dual pistols.
He took them out and inspected them and as he did, his lips curled in disgust. Cap and ball. Completely useless. Well, he was over-exaggerating a tad, but he’d rather have something he could use at sea without all the salt gumming up the works.
His Books had made the transition and were two large bracelets on his arms. Troy contemplated them. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone. Find out if the little kobold knew how to craft something more deadly than a steamboat.
A flowing leather overcoat was hung on a rack in the corner. Like his jeans, the stitching on it was intricate. He shrugged it on and felt inexplicably cooler. Not just because, obviously, he looked really cool, but the temperature in the room went from a hot, sweaty 90 to about 75.
He grabbed an approximation of a Stetson off his bed and placed it on his head and left his room, going down the stairs to the bar below.
When he walked down into the bar, the room got quiet. People were staring at the new, foreign-looking man. Troy thought it rather weird-had these people been paying attention to him? It didn’t matter, they were just NPCs anyways.
The others were sitting at their table and were also perplexed at the odd silence that had settled on the caravanserai. Jeremiah was looking around, mouth open, an entire leg of lamb halfway to his maw.
“Troy!” Dustin waved, the gnoll happily munching on lamb and cous-cous, completely ignoring the shift in atmosphere.
Troy frowned.
“Oops, I mean, Icarian, come have breakfast!” Dustin corrected.
Tory sat down and the room resumed speaking, though now in hushed whispers. It was all so eerie. The NPCs were acting like they’d noticed his change. Which, obviously, shouldn’t be possible. He saw that Zuberi -er, Greg-and Drew were also contemplating the sudden shift in atmosphere. Troy noticed a seat empty.
“Where’s…um, what’s his name? Sulpu?” Troy asked.
“Went to the warehouse to work on his project.” Rashid…Drew said.
Troy realized the mental shifts were happening to him as well, despite the Books he held. Of course he’d been unaffected at first, but now he’d basically been struck by the same spell twice. The question was, did he care? He’d set up his back story so that he was super cool under pressure.
He ate breakfast quickly. Everyone was discussing how best to handle the corsairs.
“I made your outfit.” Rashid said happily. “You like it? Kinda going for a west-meets-middle east aesthetic, along with a little magic.”
“I love it!” Troy smiled, looking down at himself. “So during downtime you had your character do it?”
“Yeah. At first I was thinking about maybe making something for Kharduom, but he seems happy being half-naked.”
“Nice.” Troy smiled. “Thanks, bro!”
“No problem man.” The otter smiled and winked lasciviously. “I know how you can pay me.”
Troy paused and looked at Lancer.
The lion smirked. “Sure, go ahead. I have business before we leave anyways, so I won’t be around tonight to walk in on your…extramarital dalliances.”
“I’m going to find out how long it’s going to take for Sulpu to finish the boat and ask him to do some improvements on my guns.” Troy told him, pushing away his plate and standing.
“Sounds good!” The lion rose and embraced Troy. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Troy smiled.
They kissed and Troy set out for the warehouse.
As he walked through the streets, Troy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was being watched. The D20 Perception he’d rolled an 18 on had told him that, at least. Why was he being followed? Was it connected to the strange silence at the caravanserai?
He pushed the thoughts the side, fingering the grip of his pistol just in case.
The warehouse was large and had a dock attached to it. It stood on the shores of the cove the city was built on. Gulls cried and wheeled overhead, the smell of fish, sea, and…disgustingly, sewage hung in the air. Troy remembered that in ancient times, sewers flowed into the sea. No water treatment plants, so the water around any port city was particularly foul.
He knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” A high pitched, yappy voice called from within.
“Icarian!” Troy shouted.
“Icarian…oh, right. You. Come on in!”
Troy opened the heavy door and stepped into the warehouse.
The kobold had transformed it into a workshop. It was…incredibly neatly organized,, like super-professional. Screws and bolts and their sizes were in little shelving units. Materials were piled neatly against the wall. Rolls of fabric-likely Drew’s purchases-were flat on a table. Drew must have been working on something for Kharduom, because it was leather and huge.
The masterpiece was up on chains in the center of the room in the dock. Somehow, the kobold had drained the water in the attached boathouse and it was sitting on wooden boards. The chains were to stabilize, Troy realized.
“It’s about half-way done.”
“It’s…Troy blinked. “Kinda small though?”
“Fifty five feet long is not small, Icarian. The insides are bigger than the outside, anyways.”
“Ah.” Troy nodded. “You used your Book.”
“My…yes.” The kobold looked at Troy. “Thanks for earlier. I really enjoyed it. And thanks for doing it to Rashid. I love him.”
“You’re..welcome?” Troy said.
“What can I do for you?” The kobold said, fastening goggles and lighting up a torch, touching it to places on the hull of the boat.
“I wanted you to…upgrade my guns to something more modern.”
“Hmm…” Drake paused. “In the real world, that would be difficult. You’d need machining. A lathe. But as you’ve ascertained, I can literally make it out of nothing, so…”
“No, I mean, magically.” Troy removed his bracelets. “Can you make them into something cool?”
Drake ran a forked tongue over his scaly lips. “I’m…working on my own project in my down time. Mark, if we choose to stay here for a couple weeks and prep, you’re fine with that?”
You have one year to complete the task. It might involve a lot of sailing, so if you think this is a good use of your time, I won’t say no.
Drake turned to Troy. “Find something to do for the next month.”
“Month? A whole month?” Troy asked.
“Yup.”
“How many hours is that?”
I’ll fast forward, but you guys need to all agree if this is what you’re going to do.
“I agree.” Troy said. A green thumbs up appeared over his head.
“Me too.” Sulpu shrugged, eyeing the green thumb hovering above him.
There was silence for a minute or so.
The others have agreed to wait. I’ll fast forward now.
“Now? Wha-?” Troy was cut off as suddenly his control of his character was taken away.
Minutes turned into hours, turned into days. Their characters continued wandering and doing odd-jobs as they normally would, on autopilot mode. Nothing eventful happened.
“-t do you mean?” Troy finished, blinking away the sudden surge of memories. “Holy shit!”
“What a rush, right?” A loud, robotic voice intoned.
Troy jumped and turned to look at the speaker.
Where once had been a kobold, now a gleaming metal Dragonborn stood. It reminded him of a certain comic super hero.
“Seriously Sulpu?” Troy asked.
Steam hissed as the chest of the Metal Dragonborn fell forward. Inside the chest cavity was the kobold. A shining red cylinder was embedded in the little kobold’s chest. Sulpu unbuckled the straps and used the chest to clamber to the ground.
“Introducing METAL DRAGON.” Sulpu said proudly.
“What can it do?” Troy asked, circling the armored suit warily. “And how did you do it?”
“Well, armorers get a powered armor suit. So I made this. Nice beard, by the way. Very rugged.” Sulpu squeaked.
Troy brought his hand up and touched facial hair. He’d never really been able to grow it before, it always came out all crappy and uneven. Now he had a nice medium-sized beard.
“But I never said what I wanted to do during my down time?” Troy said.
“You don’t have a background that gets much in the way of downtime activities.” Sulpu shrugged.
“Right, Investigator and Archaeologist. Perception, Insight, History and Survival.” Troy said. “Shit.”
“Don’t feel bad, Icarian. You’re going to be really useful when we explore ruins! Oh, look behind you.”
Troy turned and saw the finished boat. It gleamed a golden color. Three bare brass-colored masts were bent backwards. A strange translucent material gleamed between them. Troy could see the motor and rudder.
“What the hell is it? Steam?”
“Sort of. It uses magic and runs on salt water. Creates a constant electric current.” Sulpu said.
“You did all that in a month?”
“My speciality, remember.” Sulpu grinned. “Anyways, if it’s something I’ve never seen or truly imagined before it takes too much energy out of me. Like the table. I’ve used the month to recover. The parts and materials are all transmuted.”
“Wow. Surprised you didn’t do more.”
“Mmmmm…..” Sulpu glanced at Rashid’s work area.
There were now suits of armor. Proper ones, for all of them.
“He made them with the materials I gave him.” Sulpu said. “And for things like specific animal hides, uhhhh.”
“What?”
“Well, he requested access to your character to help him. Summon and stuff for parts.”
Troy stared. “He can do that?”
“Apparently.”
“He should have asked, first.” Troy growled.
“Whoa, don’t get angry!” Sulpu held up a hand. “Mark didn’t give him any time to ask.”
“What else did…” Troy paused. “Did Zuberi or Kharduom create things?”
“They have a forge over there.” Sulpu pointed. “And your guns are there too. Needed them to help me out. Extra hands.”
Troy looked over at the small forge. On the anvil was an ornate wooden box. He walked forward and opened it.
Inside were two large, gleaming handguns. They were both scarlet and engraved with arcane symbols. Troy held them up. Heavy, but balanced.
“Hihi'irokane. It’s a special metal that’s super-hard and conducts spiritual energy.” Sulpu preened. “You like?”
“Do they have names?”
“Bahīma is Book of Beast-that’s the one in your left hand-and 'Ustura is the Book of Myth.” Sulpu said. “It’s like my cannon, Tahwil.
“So everyone is decked out in gear? Isn’t that cheating?”
“No.” Sulpu said. “Ran it by Mark first. We have amazing materials but we lack the proper feats and skills and spells to properly enchantment. But they are ready to be enchanted, when the time comes. Trust me. It’s a huge power level boost, but when we run into our first monster or combat, you’ll be thankful.”
Troy buckled the new guns on his belt. He adjusted his trench-coat over it and noticed the coat felt slightly heavier. He pulled back the material and saw something silvery and shiny layered between the leather and the cloth of the coat.
“Mythril chain trench-coat. It’s hidden in the material.” Sulpu said.
“Thanks, man!”
“Month well spent.” Sulpu nodded. “Let’s get supplies and head out.”
“Where to?”
“The city of Gurudia. We can hunt down the group and find something to link up with the rest of the crimson corsair fleet.”
Troy and Sulpu left. Sulpu turned and transformed the warehouse into a single hollow block of granite. Troy shot him a questioning look.
“I mean, do you want someone to steal our stuff?”
“Good point.” Troy said.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Meanwhile….
The Golden Caliph was busy with handling ‘matters of state’. Of course, ‘matters of state’ was mostly just reviewing and signing off on expense reports and considering project proposals. He took a sip of coffee and rubbed his eyes, eyeing the stack of paperwork.
There was a clamor in the halls. He looked up and saw his Spy Master arguing with his Grand Vizier. They glanced over at him and hurried towards him. Khalid sighed and set his paperwork to the side and waited as they approached his desk.
“Yes?” He asked.
“The Rhox has changed, sir.” His Spymaster said.
“Changed how? Polymorph?” The Caliph replied.
“No. I mean he’s a human now and his party doesn’t seem to care.” The Spymaster replied. “We also have a name ‘Troy’.”
“Foreign.” The Caliph mused, taking a sip of coffee and pulling out his notes. “Chessentan, maybe.”
“Yes, that’s what we’ve considered. They also talk about this as a sort of game.”
“Well, it makes sense.” Caliph rubbed his eyes.
“Caliph? Sir?”
“Just the way they are acting when I spy on them. Once I figured out they were merely playing roles, it was a simple matter of deduction. They are visitors from somewhere, here to have fun. And they have incredibly powerful artifacts.” The Caliph drained his coffee cup. “What else?”
“The things that bothers me is that they can simply change their own species and appearance. Possibly at will.” The Spymaster said. “That’s a powerful ability.”
“I know.” The Caliph smiled. “Combined, their magic is as strong as a wish spell granted by a djinn. Your orders stand. Continue recording their conversations and note any changes.”
The Grand Vizier and the Spymaster exchanged glances.
“We also have more frightening news.” The Grand Vizier said.
The Caliph sat back in his seat. “Frightening?”
“Well, as you suspected, none of their backgrounds or ‘backstories’ as they refer to them as, are real.”
“Indeed.” The Caliph said. “I told you before, I believe I understand them well enough now. I’ve spied on them over the course of the last month.”
“Have you seen the inside of the warehouse?”
“The one where the kobold and otter are constantly going in and out of? No. Lead and granite, blocks the scrying completely.”
“We’ve..” The Spy Master glanced at the Vizier. “…seen something. They’ve turned it into their own personal workshop and we’ve managed to look inside once or twice without them noticing.”
“And?”
“They made armor and a boat powered completely by magic.” The Grand Vizier said.
“We brought sketches.” The Spy Master handed the Caliph very detailed drawings of the insides of the warehouse.”
The Caliph stared at it all in awe.
“Blueprints?”
“We made copies but the design requires incredible precision and expensive raw materials. We lack the technology, Gold Caliph.” The Grand Vizier bowed.
“Interesting.” The Caliph drummed his fingers on the desk.
“Orders?”
“I’m not confident that we can obtain those artifacts.” The Caliph said finally. “But at the same time I can’t deny their incredible power. They are building a boat to, I assume, attack the Crimson Corsairs. Nothing they’ve said and done has indicated otherwise.”
“So…” His Grand Vizier stopped and smiled. “You want to place our people on the crew.”
“Absolutely.”
“I already procured an asset. I’ve vetted them and they will be stationed in place to ‘overhear’ a conversation about needing a crew.” The Spy Master smiled.
“And I have done one better, Oh Golden Caliph.” The Grand Vizier said, eyes darting angrily at the Spy Master. “I have found someone who will join this ‘adventuring party’, as the call themselves.”
The Grand Vizier clapped his hands.
A very young, weak-looking Tabaxi, with the markings of a Jungle Cat stepped forward, flanked by two of the Caliph’s guards. He looked around nervously.
“This one has recently learned the very basics of spellcasting.” The Grand Vizier said smugly. “You wished to know if the ‘experience points’, as these adventurers are talking about will affect anyone, right?”
“Yes.” The Grand Caliph smiled and waved the Tabaxi forward. “What is your name?”
“Bastion.” The cat spoke in heavily accented common. “I am from Chessentan, originally, until I immigrated here to study in the Academy of Spells and Sciences.”
“Wonderful! Right now I need you to join a party of adventurers and learn from them. I believe they’ll be fighting against the Crimson Corsairs!” The Caliph smiled broadly. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Caliph?”
“Is there a problem young man?”
“It’s just that…I’m not sure what help I could be. I barely know any spells.”
The Caliph walked over and placed a hand on the Tabaxi’s shoulder. “Think of it as your…graduation ceremony. If this experiment works, you might actually learn something.”
Bastion nodded, because of course he had no choice in the matter. The Caliph waved him away.
“We’re going to need to place him.” He said to his spy master. “They said they were traveling to Gurudia first. Teleport him there and hand him over to the Crimson Corsairs.”
“Caliph?” The Spy Master ask. “You realize he may not even survive that long.”
“Maybe.” The Caliph shrugged. “If he dies, send another.”
“So you plan on seeing…”
“If the exponential growth they experience can be shared with another, yes.” The Caliph smiled. “A poor, innocent victim they rescued is much more trustworthy than someone asking to join them right off the street.”
“Is there anything else we should prepare?”
“Your prior orders still stand.” The Caliph said. “Above all else, we must insure we are never considered their enemy.”
“A helping hand that guides. Yes sir.” The Spy Master said.
“Dismissed.” The Caliph said.
They left the room.
The Caliph poured himself another cup of coffee. He needed to use them as much as he possibly could. Then he might dispose of them. Or not. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do next. If he decided to take them out, sooner rather than later would be best. He’d never had such an opportunity before.
It was so exciting!