I stood before the green portal in my new gear with the rest of my team. They had grumbled about the chain shirts until they put them on. The links were so fine and interlocking as to be perfectly comfortable when worn over a t-shirt. Additionally, I gave each team member two healing potions while I carried the remaining four along with mobile Crafting supplies, my compliment of thrown weapons, and standard survival tools. My old armor and glaive were stowed in my room.
“For many of you, this will be your first portal excursion,” Rick Danger addressed our group. “No matter how many dungeons you’ve run, they can’t prepare you for the curve balls portals will throw at you. From the strange and esoteric to simple elimination scenarios, each portal will have a quest you need to accomplish. The associated tier of a portal is for the difficulty of the quest, not the strength of the monsters within. A tier 1 quest could have a sleeping Titan. ‘Don’t wake the Titan.’ Avoid unnecessary dangers.
“This tier 3 portal promises to be on the stranger end. None of our scouting drones managed to return. Take care, portals can be closed without disgorging the heroes within. No one knows what happens to those that never make it back. Did they die? Are they living in new worlds? Don’t attempt to find out. We lose more first years on this weekend than at any other time of the year. Be vigilant and return to us.”
Rick left the room to give the next team the rundown. Riena glanced between us and asked, “So, who’s been in a portal before?”
“I’ve only been in a few portals that my family maintains for training and resources,” Derek answered. “They were basically big dungeons with a fixed entry and exit. Though, I’ve heard portals can be anything.”
“They can.” I stepped forward. “You can be ready, but you can’t prepare for them. It’s best to maintain a flexible mind.” They couldn’t see my grin. “See you on the other side!”
I jumped into the portal.
After a single instant of swirling colors, I found myself on the deck of a ship. A quick glance around gave me a rough idea what this scenario was. I rummaged below deck and took the wheel before the rest of my team appeared on the deck.
“Unfurl the sails ye scallywags! We have a good headwind, and I’d not waste it,” I called out to them.
Casimir blinked. “Exemplar, what are you doing? Why are you dressed like that?”
My companion wisely spotted my new long-coat, tricorne hat, and brace of flintlocks over my armor. “Look above ye!” I pointed to the top of our mast. “We fly the jolly roger. We be pirates. Yo Ho Ho!” A familiar skull and crossbones—save for the four eye sockets—adorned the flag fluttering in the wind.
The team remained frozen as I fixed our heading before locking the wheel in place and running around to adjust the rigging. By my estimates, we had the equivalent of a full-sized war galleon, impossible for me to operate by myself.
“Aye? What ya standing around for? This deck lacks hands.”
Nyla shrugged, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Bunch of damn landlubbers!” I stomped a foot and shook a fist in the air. “Fear not, this old salt will show ye your way around a knot.”
Before I could demonstrate for Nyla, Riena asked, “Why are you talking like that?”
“We’re pirates. If ye want to think like a pirate, ye best act like one. Captain, your coat and saber be in ye quarters. Can’t be leadin’ a pack of seadogs without looking the part.”
“But why?” Riena pleaded.
I sighed and broke character. “I find it helps to immerse yourself in the situation so that you can better intuit the intended path of a quest. In a world like this, veering could result in fighting krakens or whole fleets of ships.” I twisted my tricorne and went right back to showing these new bloods the ways of the sea.
Nyla jumped right into it, eager to learn rare nautical skills. “When did you learn to sail?”
“Ah, in my youth, I did a spot of privateering for an Ooloke river tribe. They had a doozy of a merfolk infestation. Plying my trade on the wide rivers prepared me for a final assault on their portal. Closing that required an intimate knowledge of the sea.”
Casimir also carefully watched me and conjured illusions of green skinned goblins to see to the tasks I outlined. He noticed the complicated feelings such helping hands welled in me and narrowed his eyes. “Now, why would Exemplar pity goblins?”
I waved away the question. “Don’t think about goblins.”
“No, come on. You aren’t the first hero I’ve met to look at them like that, but none of them will tell me why. Surely, my teammate will spill the deets.”
“Only if I wanted to hurt you.” I unfurled the middle mast sail. “Did you catch that or do I need to show ye again?”
“Fine,” Casimir grumbled and focused on learning.
Nyla helped the goblins set the sails before perching herself in the crow’s nest. Derek lacked sea legs and spent this time bent over the railing while dry heaving. When Riena returned to the poop deck, the ship was in proper order, aside from our lack of cannons, powder, water, or food stores. She had outfitted herself in proper pirate captain attired with a feathered tricorne far larger than my own.
“Captain on deck!” I shouted at the crew like a proper first mate.
Everyone, including the goblins, paused in their duties to give Riena a quick salute. She blushed and hurried to me before whispering, “What am I supposed to do now?”
I whispered back, “Look stoic and shout obvious orders. Keep your eye on the horizon in case Nyla misses anything.”
Riena put her foot on a barrel and a hand above her eyes to stare meaningfully at the endless blue. Yes, like that. With the sun peeking around her dark windblown hair, our blood-eyed captain struck an imposing figure that—a glance from the Captain and she appeared less radiant despite rocking those doublet and boots.
After light pestering, I cajoled the rest of the crew to get into costume. Casimir and Derek were puzzled by their sabers, not seeing any use in weapons they weren’t trained for. Nyla grabbed two and would unsheathe them before jumping between our masts’ crow’s nests.
By the time we settled into a rhythm, Nyla shouted, “I see a ship.”
I pulled out my own spyglass and confirmed the sighting. “She be all alone, Captain, not a frigate in sight.” I collapsed the spyglass as I turned to my Captain. “A fat cargo tug like that should have plenty of booty.”
Riena grew apprehensive. “Uh, won’t there be people on that ship?”
“So?”
“So, what would we do about the people?”
I shrugged. “Kill those who resist and take their stuff, normal adventuring.”
“…Do they deserve it?”
“Does it matter? We’re in a scenario and have to play our part.”
Riena frowned. “Are they real or is this a simulation?”
“They aren’t from our reality. So in that sense, they aren’t real, but most portal worlds keep going. Nothing indicates they aren’t real places with real people having real struggles. Be glad this isn’t an extermination quest in a small fragmented reality. Those cause most heroes difficulties.”
“Morally, shouldn’t we—”
I grabbed her shoulder. “They aren’t human. In this fight for survival, we have to care about our own. Now, give the order to attack.”
Riena furrowed her brows and pondered.
“It’s them or us,” I whispered.
“We don’t know that!” She hissed.
My hand squeezed gently. “I’ve cleared dozens of portals. My way might not be the only way, but it’ll let me, you, and our team survive. There aren’t so many heroes that we have the luxury to trade our lives for the possibility of higher ideals. Humanity needs us.”
Down the bond, I felt Riena’s worry, guilt, and guilt about the guilt.
“We are running out of time. Deviations from the intended route tend to be dangerous.”
Riena didn’t suddenly decide this was fine. Instead, she pulled harder on the bond and made more of my emotions her own. Her eyes opened wide and a grin spread across her face, burying the worry. She then shouted, “Full sails! There is plunder to be had off the starboard bow!”
“Aye aye, Captain!” I could kiss her. Those red eyes shone with a thirst for heroics. I loved seeing it. All my team became a little more energetic as we neared our prey. “A broadside should soften her up!”
Derek took his cue and swallowed his nausea long enough to fill our gun ports with his glowing blue cannons. The big lug braced himself on the central mast and was almost as green as our goblin crew, but the son of the Bane family had been trained from birth for heroism. He could push through motion sickness to fight.
A group of goblins readied grappling hooks to snare the enemy vessel as Nyla slid down the rigging to join their ranks. I pulled one of the goblins to me so that he could take over the wheel once we had hooked them.
Once we were close enough, I started to tell Riena the next steps, but before I could say anything, she drew her saber, pointed at the ship, and yelled, “Fire a warning shot!”
Derek obliged and a bright blue ball of energy went past the bow of the enemy vessel. The enemy then unfurled their sails and attempted to run away.
“They be havin’ trouble stopping their ship. Gunny! Help them with their sails and rigging!”
Our Guardian gave a lazy salute before throwing up in a bucket. Dozens of shots blasted through cloth and rope, knocking sailors into the sea or deck. One lucky shot cracked a mast.
“Fine shot! But I think they need more help, gunny!” Riena laughed as my thrill burned through her. I had grown so inured to the rush that I barely noticed it anymore. Seeing Riena share my joy was like seeing the world with fresh eyes.
More bolts of energy riddled the enemy sails with holes. Derek’s blasts appeared kinetic in nature. Could they burn like plasma if Derek wanted? I didn’t know. The bond didn’t tell me how his abilities worked, only that he hated his turrets. I should ask him why.
We were close enough to the creatures manning the vessel to make out details. They had wrinkly purple skin, four arms, and two legs. Two of their eyes faced forward like ours and took up their forehead. The other two eyes were below those and far wider, looking nearly to the sides. Most of the crew had bulging muscles and hateful snares on their too-human mouths. From their scalps, gossamer stands flowed and waved in the wind, adding an ethereal quality to otherwise threatening visages. They too had sabers and flintlocks to go with their age-of-sail attire.
Gun ports opened in our direction. Riena snorted derisively. “Unechanted cannons? Who did they expect to hurt with those.” She whistled and three of her sphere drones uncloaked by the ports. They swooped in and began burning the eyes out of those manning the guns. Eye jelly boiled and popped before the beams melted enemy skulls and punched through their brains. A dark chuckle rippled across the team and through our crew of goblins as justice was done.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Derek summoned barriers between our hull and the few cannons that managed to fire on us. The primitive ballistics bounced off our Guardian’s efforts.
After the last salvo, we were close enough for the goblins to hook the enemy vessel. About half of them missed and had to try again, but that was secure enough for Nyla and I to hop over. She landed on their poop deck and proceeded to duel their captain while wreathed in black and white flames, sabers spinning as they melted in her grasp.
I landed next to the bulk of their defenders, who were trying to remove our grappling hooks. Before they could react, I nicked the nearest ones with my blade and dashed to the next group. These monsters were ready and defended themselves with abysmal skill. Only their overwhelming numbers and strength prevented me from ripping through them like paper.
Once I cut my current foes, the first group started screaming in agony as the venom took hold. The sound prompted desperate lunges from those around me. I lopped off hands and shorn knees asunder for the attempts, but a few managed to score hits, damaging my coat and sliding off my armor.
Several mumbled “glucogic”, and they all drew pistols. With my new armor’s ability, I suppressed the flint’s sparks, and the tiny flames failed to ignite their gunpowder. The simultaneous misfires caused enough of a surprise that I could relax my blade into a whip and score it through their throats, resulting in geysers of emerald blood showering me.
The bodies fell with our boarding planks and goblins swarmed around me to dive at the enemy crew. In that moment before the clash, fear entered my enemy’s eyes, grim resolve fading. Their irises were star shaped and their sclera was green, but through the alienness, that primal experience shown through. These commonalities always made me think we weren’t so different from demons.
An appropriate sea shanty bubbled from my throat. My allies always found battle hymns less disturbing than unfiltered cackling at the light leaving my foes’ eyes. How couldn’t every hero find this glorious? When others break that means we aren’t breaking, another moment seized from the jaws of death.
I strode through the battlefield and dispatched any sailor resisting our goblins too well. A few managed to disbelieve the illusions. I could tell by their shouting and silenced them along with anyone that could’ve heard them. Like a farmer among wheat, I reaped all my blade could reach and savored each foe of humanity silenced forever. Unfortunately, the battle ended too soon.
Nyla stood on the railing and roared with the captain’s severed head in her hand, grabbing everyone’s attention. After that display, the enemy resorted to that most despicable of tactics: surrender.
Weapons clattered to the deck as sets of four hands extended in air. Sadly, no cultural miscommunication foiled this stratagem. While Casimir directed his goblins to tie up those surrendering, Riena looked over the entrail filled deck with wide eyes. The scent of blood and death shits overpowered the brine and nearly made our Captain hurl. Vomit reached her mouth, but she swallowed it and injected herself with anti-nausea medication. The look on her face indicated that it was only partially effective.
I flicked the gore off my blade before shifting it to its sword form and sheathing it. I stalked through the prisoners, hoping they would give me an excuse. All they did was whisper “glucogic” and flinch away from me.
Deciding this was unproductive, I went below deck and searched for any loot the goblins hadn’t already stolen, which ended up being little aside from alien victuals and excavation equipment. Those discoveries led to me ransacking their captain’s quarters and finding what I was looking for.
When I returned to my team, Riena had pulled one of the demons into our empathetic link and was attempting to converse with them. It wasn’t going well. We gained a deep understanding of the fear they had for their lives and all they wanted to live for, while he learned how much I wanted to make them walk the plank.
Nyla picked at her nails with a knife while she spoke, “Why are we stressing about this? Do what Exemplar wants. It obviously works or she wouldn’t be here.”
“I’ve read a little about pirates. Some of these prisoners may want to join our crew.” Riena gestured around. “The language barrier will be an issue, but that’s better than Casimir overstraining himself.”
He shrugged. “My illusions remain active while I sleep, and they can carry on basic behaviors. I can manage.”
“But we don’t have to if—”
“We let people who hate us on our ship and probably get knifed for our mercy,” Derek interjected. “I get it. I don’t think we should slaughter a bunch of people either. Lets grab the loot and leave them with enough food and water that they have a chance.”
I waved the papers in my hand. “Captain! Ye wants to see this.” I showed her the map and star charts. “There be buried treasure near. We’ll be rich!”
Riena sighed. “Can we decide what to do about the prisoner’s first?”
“We? Nay, Captain. No one has ought any say but you.” Inviting them on board sounded stupid to me, but if they attacked in the middle of the night, that might make the next couple of days of sailing more exciting.
“Well, Exemplar is too busy being a pirate to care. What about the rest of you?”
Nyla shrugged. “Burn the boat down.” Derek reiterated his previous stance. Casimir thought Riena’s idea was interesting and wanted to try it.
“I would prefer majority support on what we do,” Riena said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Democratic decisions are more fair.”
“What’s that about demons?”
“No. Demo… Have you not participated in any elections?”
I shook my head. “My Ward didn’t have those. A few Crafters kept the district running while the defenses were organized by Lightbringer. She wasn’t elected. A popularity contest seems like a terrible way to select a military leader.”
“Wait, who made your laws?”
“Things like ‘don’t murder’ and ‘don’t steal’?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure someone made those rules at some point, but it was so long ago as not to matter. Once you have laws that work, why would you keep making them?”
Riena looked at the rest of the team. “Am I out of touch, or is that normal? We had district council elections every year and new laws were passed daily to handle new innovations and a changing society.”
“The guild heads made decisions for the district,” Derek said.
Casimir scratched his head. “We had an elder that served until he died, then the adults picked a new elder through chatting. I think they could make rules, but I don’t recall it happening.”
Nyla thumbed toward me. “My Ward was the same as hers. It sounds like this ‘demo-crack-tic’ is a rich-person luxury.”
Riena rubbed her face. “I can’t imagine societies within the same city functioning so differently.”
“The Wards and districts system is meant to preserve human diversity of thought,” I said. “I don’t know how successful it’s been, but the differences are intentional.”
“Right, later.” She pointed at the monster. “Work ship or stay.”
Through the bond, the demon understood her intent and communicated the offer with his people. All 128 survivors elected to work for us and go with their food stores.
With impressive speed, our new employees moved into our ship after transferring all their goods except for their cannons. Those would be too awkward to move, and Derek’s cannons were better. To facilitate cooperation, Riena pulled all the demons into our bond.
The details of the next several minutes grew fuzzy for me. I stumbled to one of our railing and slouched on it as more than a hundred alien hearts pulsed against my mind. In my haze, I heard my team talking about me, but I couldn’t focus on the words. These demons had such a thirst for life that I was entirely overwhelmed.
I felt their fear, relief, hope and the feelings behind them: flickers of love, regrets of life poorly spent, a deep thirst for drink, grief of a friend’s death, and many other strong emotions. Riena had opened a portal into their worlds, and I couldn’t focus on anything else. The lack of immediate danger delayed a trained reaction of using my aura to will my own mind over my mind.
That moment of clarity let me refine my mental barriers and come back to myself. We had already set sail. A demon was at the wheel while another poured over the map with navigation tools and shouted orders to the helmsman. The goblins were still mingled with the crew, but everyone knew they were illusions through the bond. If things turned ugly, Casimir would be at a significant disadvantage.
Derek had decided to keep me company. He looked significantly less green than before. Either emotionally bonding to over a hundred sailors had given him sea legs or Riena had shared her meds with him. He raised a hand. “Sup. You were out of it.”
“It’s… been a long time since I experienced… anything like that.”
He nodded. “Nyla’s locked herself in her room. I… don’t know what it is like, not really. I’ve lost family and have my own worries, but you refugees have had it a lot harder. Casimir thinks the two of you had it worse than most.”
“My saga is long. That is all. I’ve been better since…” Being true to myself. “...recently. A lot better. I’m not in danger anymore, but it seems I was more sensitive to this than the rest of you.” I smiled at the steady drain from my aura preventing me from slipping into that emotional nexus. “I would want to do this again in a more controlled setting.”
Derek frowned. “I think this is it. Have you noticed that most heroes are miserable? If Riena hooked us into a hundred humans, I doubt the experience would be the same.”
I hummed. “You’re probably right. These people have had easier lives than us.” I straightened my tricorne again. “Well, I best be gettin’ to know the crew!”
The Guardian rolled his eyes as I left to socialize. If we weren’t killing these people, then I should get to know them. I found a few sailors rolling bones in a corner. They bristled with fear at my approach. Why would they? Surely, I wasn’t that intimidating during the fight—Oh! I retrieved my cleaning ring from a pouch and slipped the tip of my finger in it. Instantly, all the wonderful green gore disappeared along with every other kind of filth.
My cleanliness didn’t significantly lower their fear. One nodded and mumbled “glucogic”.
I tapped my chest and said, “Human.” I then pointed to him and tilted my head.
The head tilt didn’t translate, but my questioning intent slipped through the bond. He pointed to himself and said something, then he pointed to a companion and said something else. The utterances were obviously names.
I shook my head and tapped my chest again. “Human.” I pointed to Riena. “Human.” I pointed to Derek. “Human.”
The gambler’s spokesperson pointed to one of Riena’s drones. “Human eme glucogic?”
They think I’m a robot. I pointed at the drone. “Robot.” I then removed my helm and tapped my chest again. “Human.”
My fleshy continuance startled them and started a round of whispering in their strange alien tongue. Their fear of me grew and several felt pity. They must think me mad for wearing armor this heavy at sea, not knowing I can swim with aura. My conversation partner pointed to himself and said, “Saianuh.” He then pointed to his companions and said the same thing.
With that out of the way, I crouched down and joined their game of dice. I bounced between groups of idle sailors, learning their games and picking up a word or two in their language. The Saianuh had four sexes and three of them were represented among the sailors. The exact how or why of these sexes were beyond my linguistic skills. These people also enjoyed grog, but preferred it spiced with an alien powder that was no more toxic to humans than cayenne pepper. Saianuh tended to be dominant with either their top arms or bottom arms. ‘Sorcery’ or abilities were unknown to them. Between their leathery thick skin and natural strength, I assumed they were a nascent technologist species, demons without inherit magic.
If our temporal timelines had aligned at a few centuries into their future, then this portal would have been a much higher tier. After we close this one, a new portal might open deep into their future. Once realities were unmoored from each other, times could flow at drastically different speeds. To prevent that possibility, I should derive a world-plague from the samples/crew we have, but I lacked the necessary Crafting skill with biology and wouldn’t know where to start. There is so much to learn for my new role.
Night had descended during the cultural exchange. Demons lit lanterns and continued with their tasks. Our navigator used the stars to further refine our heading before letting another demon take over and retiring. The crew planned to work all through the night.
I yawned and made my way to our nicer collection of cabins. This floating castle had more than enough space for each of us to have a room. When my hands hovered over the knob to my sleeping quarters, I smelled smoke from Nyla’s room.
A comb pick unlocked her door in a second, and I flung it open. A ball of yellow flames sat in the middle of the room. Those fires had spread to the wood and made smoke without producing any heat. I latched onto the flames with my armor’s ability and pulled them to me. My weariness began to fade as the fires danced about me. Nyla’s yellow flames burn fatigue.
“Nyla!” I shouted.
The yellow flame jolted and shrunk until a humanoid of fire sat on the floor. “Sorry, I was thinking.”
I closed the door behind me. “Interesting. With your fires, you only meditate to reflect on your day to maintain the learning effects of sleep.” Friends show interest in each other’s well-being. “Are you…” I didn’t want to ask her if she was okay. I knew she wasn’t. “...burdened by anything new?”
Nyla quenched her flames and flopped down. “No…” The bond let her know that I was genuinely worried about her while also not really caring about the abyss welling within her. Over the years, caring about other’s feelings had grown too tiring or—at least—convincing myself I cared took too much effort. I couldn’t recall if I ever had that capacity, but my mix of worry and not giving a shit convinced Nyla to open up. She knew her words wouldn’t hurt me. “It’s not new… Connecting with the aliens made what I lacked more clear. I thought with the way Riena and Derek are, that it was just things having money brought, but…”
She rolled to her feet and sat on her bed.
“I keep… thinking about my final blaze of glory. How do I want to go? What sacrifice would be worth it?”
“What hero doesn’t?” None of us died from old age.
“But… Riena doesn’t think about that, Derek barely does, and Casimir doesn’t do it more than once an evening. Those aliens… they don’t do it all.”
“We can’t read their thoughts.”
Nyla leaned forward. “No, but those kinds of thoughts feel a certain way. Kind of like a thought-taste. I know because I had the ‘what if’ conversation with the guys. You think about it as much as I do, if not more so.”
“It’s a background calculation. If my life was suddenly required for humanity, then I wouldn’t want to spend it cheaply. That’s just good tactical preparedness.”
“Ha ha. Yeah… no it’s not.” She curled her knees to her chest. “When I think about dying, I’m not scared anymore. All I feel is relief. That… can’t be good.”
I scratched my head. “I lost my fear of death at 13. I had fallen from a dragon’s back and was tumbling toward the maw of a larger dragon. In that moment, I realized I didn’t care if he ate me. The prospect of a painful death by mastication had this finality to it. If Izy hadn’t saved me… I don’t know what would have happened. Since then, I practiced behaviors and techniques to compensate for the lack of fear. It shouldn’t be a problem anymore, but I understand your concern.”
Nyla worried a lip. “What techniques?”
“A combination of things. I trained my reflexes to preserve my life. I analyze my actions during nightly meditations and determine if my risk-seeking behaviors have grown to unwise levels. My tactics and ethics prioritize survival over all else. I carefully manage my emotional state by engaging in behaviors I’ll know I enjoy and through meditation. My ability doesn’t help with most of this, but my continued survival indicates a certain level of success.”
“Should I tell Casimir about this?”
My own annoyance at his treatments went through the bond. “Probably. While he’s not trained for mental healing yet, it is part of his role.”
“Dammit, I—” Nyla was interrupted by an alarm from Riena’s cabin.
Both us sprinted toward our Commander. The fear I didn’t have for myself, I felt for her.
