Troy, now an Arabic-looking man named Icarian, walked with the rest of his party towards the top of the seaside cliffs. Palm trees waved in the breeze coming off the coast, a cool welcome to the scorching heat of the summer day. It was mid-afternoon now. He wiped sweat from his brow and looked around.
Other than the trees, the rocks, and some scrub bushes, there was nothing here to indicate a hidden trap door.
“No door.” Kharduom, formerly Jeremiah, now a half-gnoll half-giant said sourly.
“I don’t see any hidden trapdoors!” Rashid, formerly Drew, now a Bennari rogue called out.
“My magics detect nothing.” Zuberi, formerly Greg, now an old half-orc wizard said.
“Not seein’ nothin’” Gnuz, formerly Dustin, now a gnoll ranger said.
“Nothing on my sensors.” Sulpu, formerly Drake, now a kobold artificer in a realistic robotic dragonborn suit said.
Troy turned to Hasta, the Leonin Paladin.
“Not my speciality.” Hasta, formerly Lancer, said.
All of his friends had slowly transformed into the RPG characters. Only he had managed to hold out, though he wasn’t sure how long that would last, considering the constant tingles he felt. This morning, Mark had appeared before him and had basically stated that until they finished his campaign, they weren’t going anywhere. And Lancer had apparently made a request to make Troy happy and Mark had granted it.
What that request was, Lancer wouldn’t say. He just kept glancing at Troy all the time. Troy pushed a lock of hair behind his ear and sighed. In this reality, he was a human who owned a farm on the only fertile land near town. His family was all dead and the Corsairs had destroyed them. The worst part about it was that he loved them, these people whom he’d never actually met, and it made him angry and depressed.
Troy walked over to the side of the cliff and peered around.
“If they have a hidden dock, then they’d need to get it onto dry land somehow.” Troy spoke slowly.
He eyed a few buildings that sat in town, hugging the cliff where it extended inward. The town was situated in a crescent-shaped lagoon, two cliffs on either side of it. On one was the terraced farm he owned. They were on the deserted cliff on the other side of town. Down below, he could see more than a few buildings, though most were warehouses for the port and some metalworking shops.
“Let’s go back down and inspect those.” Troy pointed.
“You think they may have a secret passage in one of the buildings?” Lancer asked.
“Yeah. Think about it. If there’s a hidden sea cave, maybe they carved out some tunnels to a buildings to smuggle goods in and out. One of those buildings is a front, I think.” Troy said, growing more sure as he spoke it aloud.
“The numbers add up.” Sulpu nodded in his suit.
“Let’s go kill some pirates!” Kharduom bellowed and Gnuz cheered alongside him.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go kill some pirates.” Troy sighed and flicked his Gun, setting it to transform anyone who got hit with it. And took off the silencer. He’d learned his lesson about reality shifts the hard way already, no need to make the same mistake twice.
They set out to scout the businesses below.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Tarik Al-Fissa was the foremost taxidermist in the city. In the world, now, actually, after Mark became a God. Mark had visited him in his dreams and spoke of the powers he could grant and gifted unto him a set of 10 golden needles. Tarik was not one to turn down such gifts.
When he awoke from his slumber, he found them on a leather sheathe on his bedside table. They were long-almost a foot, and very sharp. But what they could do was what intrigued him. For the next week, he put them to good use.
A veteran of the Dune Wars and a hunter of the lions of the Sand Sea, he’d learned his art while on campaign. He didn’t stuff animals then, he made effigies of those he conquered. Some still stood, half-rotted, dried by the desert sun. Tarik had heard rumors that some of his victims had come back as the undead due to his defilements. He considered it an honor.
Ever since he came to the city and opened his taxidermy, he’d worked for the Crimson Corsairs. His own shop was a front for the pirates, his building having two secret passages that went down to the caverns and halls and hidden port they used for smuggling.
The cock crowed.
Tarik’s eyes opened and he rolled out of bed and got dressed as if on autopilot. It was a workday, so he usually got up when the cock outside crowed. The taxidermist walked to the mirror to comb his hair. He was a black haired, brown skinned man, with a lanky build and a haughty expression. Morning ritual complete, he went downstairs to the back of the shop to cook breakfast.
“Awake on time, I see.” A woman’s voice called from the doorway.
Tarik glanced up and then came to his feet.
“My lady.” He bowed.
Aasmeen Nazari, the sixth of the 7 heads of LOTAN, was a beautiful woman, full bodied, with hair as black as midnight. At her voluptuous hip was a slender sword, western-styled, and a small, vicious-looking green dinosaur trotted in alongside her. She walked over and plucked an egg from the basket by the stove and fed it to him.
The dinosaur’s name was Naze Al'ahsha', and the other pirates feared him. He was small but his teeth and claws were sharp. The poison he spewed from his mouth could...devolve things into baser forms on contact. Like Tarik’s needles, he was a gift from Mark. And then it would eat the resultant mewling rodent.
Aasmeen was a daughter of one of the heads of LOTAN aside from being one herself. The second, the King of the Seas. Even if one were to survive her and her very hungry dinosaur, one would need to contend with the father and his fleet. That wasn’t survivable unless one were the Caliph himself, and he knew better than to fight a war with people who knew the currents and reefs of the island chains their hidden ports lay.
She ran the Crimson Corsair’s mainland operations out of here, with her lover, the newest head of LOTAN, though he was off on some errand or another right now.
And now this very dangerous woman was in his kitchen.
“Care for some breakfast?” Tarik asked, ever the generous host.
“No, but I have a need for your services.” Aasmeen smiled, her teeth perfect. “Several adventurers may be passing through here. Get rid of them discretely.”
“Yes, my lady.” Tarik said immediately. “Do you have any descriptions?”
“I do.” Aasmeen produced several hand-drawn sketches. “These here. They are the main party. I also have a few other adventurers in town aside from them. The second packet has all of their information as well.”
Tarik studied the intelligence their fellow pirates had gathered and whistled.
“This…is too much to ask for.” Tarik said shakily.
“Too much?” She pursed her lips.
“Yes. 7 people is at least a four man job.” Tarik said quickly. “The needles don’t work instantly.”
“So a distraction is needed, then?” Tarik could hear her disappointment. She closed her eyes, and he recognized it as her calculating expression. She opened them. “I’ll give you nine men. A needle for each.”
“Thank you for your understanding, my lady.” Tarik bowed.
“Ensure it gets done. They’ve drawn far too much attention to us. We may even need to leave the city, depending on how the wind blows.” Aasmeen pouted.
“Of course.” Tarik smiled.
“And Naze Al'ahsha' needs a new chew toy. And I want a plush to add to my collection.” Aasmeen smiled and held up the angry-looking spider plush she had. There were a bunch at her waist, hanging from her belt like stuffed charms.
“As you wish, my lady.” Tarik bowed and she left the room.
This was going to be fun.