Born a Monster

Chapter 100: Born A Monster, Chapter 100 – Wanton Sharkbite

Born A Monster

Chapter 100

Wanton Sharkbite

Well, it takes about a week of repairs and restocking, of coils of rope and wooden pins, of tar and glue and bilging, and scraping of barnacles off the hull and such.

Barnacles are an excellent source of nutrients that can be used for bones.

It turns out that shipwrights are possessive of their work, and unwilling to let mere carpenters do more than cut and bend planks.

“That just sounds boring.” Kismet said. “Come on, dress ball with masks!”

.....

“I doubt mere masks will conceal our identities.”

“But people will PRETEND they don’t recognize us.”

“I don’t see how that’s in any way fun or entertaining.”

“You are coming anyway.” She sang.

“I am coming anyway.” I said.

So I finished the board I was cutting, and set it in the sea pen to soak.

The social parties had a sort of formula to them. As low-ranking functionaries of a foreign government, Kismet and I arrived on time, or no more than half an hour early or late.



Actually, when I perused the guest list back at the embassy, we had another reason to attend.

“Kismet, Captaine Levemont will be at the party tonight.”

“Okay, and who is this guy?”

“This girl is captain of the Wanton Sharkbite.”

“Is that a tavern?”

I blinked. “The ship that’s taking us south?”

“Oh, are we still doing that?”

I sighed, and clenched a fist where she could see it.

She chuckled. “It’s too easy with you, Rhishi. It really is.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to work on that.”

“Eh. Maybe you can do it. Not holding my breath that long.”

Was she being coy? Sarcastic? Definitely antagonistic.

She was probably just Kismet, and didn’t realize she was doing it.

“Okay, what else do we know about this party?”

“Rhishi! It’s a party, not a siege. We don’t need a supply train, or swordsmiths to replace broken weapons. And you are NOT embarrassing us again by wearing your gambeson under the formal clothes.”

“That was once.”

“That was twice, and they commented on the second one.”

“And have I worn it to formal events since then?”

“You’re wearing it now!”

“I’m at work now.”

“You’d be wearing chainmail over it if you could!”

“I like being defended. I like staying alive. Armor helps with that!”

“Not getting stabbed helps with that.”

“Okay. I yield that point.”

She rubbed her palms into her closed eyes. “We have to figure out how to raise your charisma statistic.”

“How have YOU raised your charisma?”

“Lessons, classes, deportment. And genuine caring about what people think.”

“I ... Okay, I care what people DO more than about what they THINK.”

“And that’s a problem, especially in a diplomat.”

“Then why didn’t we start on this two weeks ago?”

“Because you’re a guy. If we’d done this before you were ready, you wouldn’t train as hard.”

I still didn’t want to train hard. “Fine. Do you have a prospectus, professor Kismet?”

“Nope. But there’s lots of homework, starting tonight.”

#

Evolutions are easy to understand. Either you have it, or you don’t. Either it’s developed and active, or its not. Bonuses only apply up to a certain threshold.

Like my Curious trait, except that wasn’t an evolution.

And most of the evolutions were specific to sub-stats.

I pulled up a list of evolutions that added to Charisma sub-stats.

Well... there was no shortage of food, I could eventually simulate having a two or three Charisma.

I started with Endorphin Boost, an evolution that expanded my Serenity meter. Two hundred biomass and nutrition just GONE.

Okay, yeah, that was only four days of life. I remember when I was eating paltry seaweed three times a day to survive. I liked having my biomass points, just in case ...

In case of what? Kismet was right, I was living as though I could be thrown in a cell and starved.

Was that realistic?
My concentration vanished in a cascade of pain from my left eyeball.

What I said shouldn’t be recorded, lest children read it.

“So... Which colors are warm, and which are cool?”

“Blue flames are hotter than orange. Why is blue a cool color?”

“Because it is. Look at the paint palette. Blue is the center of the cool colors, and orange the center of the warm.”

Honestly, it wasn’t science, it was only hard because of my pre-conceived notions of what colors were.

“But in flowers...”

“We aren’t talking flowers now! We’re talking fashion, and fashion means color.”

“But black... nothing, never mind. If I can get that wood feeds fire which tempers metal, I can get this.”

“Not CAN. You WILL get this. Memory is an INSIGHT sub-stat; this part should be easy for you.”

“I got the forks.”

She snorted. “You got the part about foods right. We’re not doing that. Fashion.” She placed the palette face down on the table. “Cool colors, warm colors. Which is which?”

Colors, dress cuts, what was popular, what was not, how to learn what was or wasn’t popular.

It wasn’t logical, it was all wrapped up in emotions. In subtlety. In intuition.

Basically, fashion was all about the optical illusion made by your clothes, your bearing, and your accessories.

It wasn’t QUITE a lie, but it was wrapped up in letting others get the wrong impression and lie to themselves.

And apparently, my Truthspeaker oath was perfectly accepting of that.

But I had no time for pondering oaths; it was already time to dress up in NOT BLACK and present myself to Kismet.

Warm or cold? Either orange or green would go with my brownish scales.

I chose green, with a belt-sash of red for contrast. Green would go with my blue hat, after all.

“You look like a pirate.” She said. “This sash goes away, try a dark purple. And you will wear shoes. Not sandals, SHOES.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

.....

Such are the ways of lessons, at least the way Kismet taught them.

#

And, such as it went, the party was a success. I think.

At least nobody needed to be led away in pain holds, at least none that I saw.

“Quite dapper, ambassador.”

“Thank you, captaine. Your ensamble looks... functional.”

She was wearing sea leathers over linens. The creases were still sharp, and they were clean of stains. Otherwise, it was the same manner of garb she would be wearing during our voyage.

“Dress to impress and you’ll be remembered. Come the next naval war, I’d rather be thought of as a buffoon and an individualist rather than a credible war captain.”

“Too many losses?” I guessed.

“You could say that. Tell me, ambassador, do you know what a decimation is?”

“Decimation is when one in ten of your fellow soldiers is slain. Not wounded, not unconscious, but slain.”

“Imagine a war where three to five decimations are normal before receiving new crew all at once. It’s hard to hold a crew together through that.”

“Every voyage a training voyage. I never knew the war with Ruus had those kinds of casualties at sea.”

“Numidian conflict. Isn’t even called a war.”

“I am glad for your war experience, although I’d rather we not need it.”

“Oh, if the mermaids get all feisty and start eating deck-hands you’ll want my war experience, sure enough.”

“I thought merfolk were purely aquatic.”

“Your thoughts don’t keep them beneath the waves, ambassador. Get a cutlass and a trusted dagger. Not a knife, actual war dagger.”

“I have a Flavian sword.”

She shook her head. “Cutlass. It’s the pirate sidearm for a reason.”

“What is the main weapon of choice in shipboard combat?” I asked.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Whatever your delusions of heroism are on land, you aren’t fighting on my ship. No armor, your weapons stay in your room. Oh, and since we’re in for five weeks of close quarters, don’t wear that admiral’s hat during the voyage.”

“Admiral’s hat?” I took it off to inspect it.

“That dark blue color is called navy for a reason.”

“I intended no offense.”

“Not the point. Let me worry about the sailing, and you just worry about being a good passenger.”

“And what do you recommend we do for five weeks?”

“So long as you don’t interfere with the crew, I don’t care. That said, there’s some four hundred souls on board the Sharkbite. Be mindful where you are and who you’re with.”

“You think I’ll end up robbed?”

“I think you can end up raped, your throat slit, and your body cut into pieces and dumped into the ocean. In that order, if you’re lucky.”

She proceeded with a series of draconian safety rules. I agreed to abide by them for the duration of the voyage.

So, generally, yes, the party was a success.

Many snacks were consumed, a large amount of poison and tea consumed, and many pointless trivial discussions took place.

Kismet and I escaped by coach sometime after the sun had crested in the night sky.

#

So I finish this novel on the night before we are set to board the Wanton Sharkbite, which from what I understand might very well be the last time I am seen in civilized lands.

Sholwyr has yet to arrive in Lewardsport. She will either love or hate her new position; possibly both.

I have sent my final report from Furdia before my departure.

It saddens me as a Dreamwalker to admit I cannot sleep tonight.

Kismet has no such problems; I can hear her snoring on the other side of the wall.

It isn’t fear; I’m not certain I know the word of this feeling that keeps me up. It is an awareness of change, a large change, an unavoidable change.

The ocean calls to me. The mixed nations of the Southern Isles... less so.

I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities. But I have survived so much. So many times.

Is this where and how my story ends?

And why do I regard that possibility with sadness rather than fear or anger?

When I look at my statistics in my System, they look ... lacking. I’m sure my System is still hiding stuff from me.

[Rhishisikk

Level 6 Magical Beast, Protean (Lesser Titanspawn)

System Level: 1, 100/300 development points to next level

System Inventory: 2 x 3, six total storage

Might: 3

(Evolution under development: Foot Talon Grasping Strength, 8 days until unlock)

Agility: 3

Insight: 3 (modified from base 2) (24 days until development of base level 3.)

Valor: 3

VAL/Melee Defense/Block/Shield Block: 5 (Effective max: 4. Raise Valor, Melee Defense, or Block.)

Resolve: 3

Charisma: 1

(Evolution under development: Endorphin Enhancement, twelve days until unlock)

Lore: 1

Lore/Dreamtime/Dream Spells: 2

Lore/Elementalism/Fire/Summon Fire: 2

Lore/Elementalism/Water/Drown Curse: 2

Lore/Elementalism/Water/River: 2

Lore/Elementalism/Water/Ocean: 2

Lore/Mystic Attunement/Elementalism/Water: 2

Lore/Tapping/Tap Environment/Tap Night: 2

Warrior

Pankratios: 1, 104/300 XP to next level

Stealth

Hunter: 1, 115/300 XP to next level

Arcane Mystic

Water Adept: 1, 115/300 XP to next level

Divine Mystic

Shaman: 1, 123/300 XP to next level

Gathering

Herbalist: 1, 108/300 XP to next level

Crafting

Carpenter: 1, 111/300 XP to next level

Cook: 1, 110/300 XP to next level

Labor

Lumberjack: 1, 101/300 XP to next level

Manservant: 1, 113/300 XP to next level

Social

Industrialist: 1, 100/300 XP to next level

Truthspeaker: 1, 107/300 XP to next level

Sin Armor: 1

Level 2: Vanity, Gluttony

Level 1: Wrath, Sloth

Level 0: Lust, Envy, Greed

Development Points: 2]

The number and rating of my cultivation methods are just... more than I want to list here.

But, at this point I need to shrug. There are too many things I don’t know to put all the pieces together.

As this story ends, as the next one begins...

I can only promise to attempt to pay attention. I’m sure if I get chased through the jungle by pygmies or whatever, that I’ll be too busy running to pay close attention.

#

Story continues in volume two – Servant of the Axe