Limitless Seas 2, Chapter 9.

The last post of the year. Thank you all for the support you've given and I wish you all a happy New Year! There's a lot in store for 2022 and here's what I plan to write for the year.

1. Limitless Seas 2. 

2. Cat Core 3, which will complete the series. 

3. War Core 3, which will complete the series. I have a few spinoff ideas I might want to explore, mainly the Battle Pits that Hssim was sent to at the end of book 2. 

4. Limitless Seas 3. 

5. Limitless Seas 4, which will complete the series. 

There are several other new projects in the works that I'd like to get your input on once I've finished everything I've already planned. I'll post several sample chapters of each and you can let me know what you enjoy and would like to explore further.

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Chapter 9.

“Captain, some supply carts have arrived, but there’s some guy demanding to speak to you before he lets us unload them,” one of the crew called out while knocking on the cabin door.

“I’ll be right there,” Larson replied, motioning for Theo to stay out of sight when he opened the door to his cabin. If it hadn’t been too much of a risk, he would have rather stuffed the kid aboard the Lost Soul and made him Tarley’s problem, but the risk of moving him between the two ships without anyone seeing him was too great.

The morning sun was just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon, and Larson could hear his crew finishing up their breakfast and moving to unload the five cargo wagons parked at the end of the dock. It looked like each wagon was loaded to the gills with supplies, and while the supplies were a welcome sight, the man in charge of delivering them was not. It was yet another overdressed and self-important functionary holding various documents and haranguing the crew queuing up to unload the wagons.

“And just who might you be?” Larson asked as he moved toward the end of the dock and approached the overdressed man.

“You must be Captain Larson, I was told by Lord Buxton to deliver this to you and not allow anyone to touch the cargo until I did so. Now that you’re here, this rabble can get to work,” the man said, the condescension in his voice obvious to the crew gathered nearby, all of whom started grumbling.

“You didn’t answer my question, servant, who are you?” Larson asked.

“I am Zeigfried, official attaché to Lord Buxton. Get this lot to work, Captain, I have a busy day and do not wish to spend it in the odiferous dockyard waiting upon your lazy crew to do their jobs,” Zeigfried said.

“I have no time for your posturing, get these wagons unloaded boys,” Larson called out, ignoring Zeigfried’s protests and physically pushing him aside when the man demanded a signature for the delivery.

“But you have to sign, or I cannot disperse the funds you’ve been allocated,” Zeigfried protested.

“For a man that wants to leave the dockyard, you sure waste a lot of time on nonsense,” Larson growled. Zeigfried dangled a small pouch of coin in front of him. Instead of signing the paper, Larson lashed out with his tail, snatching the coin pouch from Zeigfreid’s hand.

“Uncouth hooligan, Lord Buxton will hear of this,” Zeigfried replied, backing slowly away in fear of the large and angry naga now glaring at him.

“If you cause me any trouble, I’ll make sure Lord Buxton hears about how you delayed our departure so you could pretend to be important,” Larson said, ignoring any further protests from the man. He had what he wanted, the supplies and some coin, if Zeigfried wanted to continue to posture, he wouldn’t have Larson as an audience.

The crew wasted no time, hauling the crates of supplies to the two docked vessels. One of the crewmen, the halfling Jacil, was put in charge of distributing the supplies, with the cook, Gilroy, jotting down notes as to what meals he planned to prepare. Larson wasn’t sure what the Lost Soul was going to do for a cook, there was no way he was giving up Gilroy. First Mate Tarley was in charge of that ship, and he was experienced enough to have some plan in place.

“Everything looks good, sir, the foodstuffs are fresh and there’s more than enough for our journey,” Jacil reported. The halfling and his fellows had proven a solid addition to the crew, having been swindled by their previous captain, they were more than happy to join up with the Sea Venom and despite their diminutive size, they had fought like devils against the pirates.

“Well done, Jacil, get everything stowed so we can move to the warship docks,” Larson ordered.

“Aye, captain, we’ll get it done. Might I have a private word, sir?” Jacil asked sheepishly.

“Sure, what did you need?”

“Well, I know we’re short of crew, and I may have some that would be willing to help if you’d like them,” Jacil stammered out, seemingly embarrassed to be asking something.

“Of course we want more crew, what’s the problem with them? You wouldn’t be hemming and hawing if these were able bodied seamen you’re talking about,” Larson replied.

"Aye, Captain Larson, these are lubbers, one and all, but each of them is a hard worker and willing to learn as we go,” Jacil offered. Larson needed experienced crew, and solid fighters for his ships, there was little time or resources for on-the-job training at this point.

“What makes these people special to you? The original group you brought with you when you first signed up has performed well, why are you hesitant with this lot?” Larson asked.

“They’re not of the typical civilized races, sir, they’re not hostile, at least not to them that hires ‘em, but they’re not exactly welcome in many circles,” Jacil offered.

“Who or what are they, and how do you know them?” Larson asked.

“They’re gnolls, sir, but good ones. Before we signed on with your ship, we were in a bad way financially, and me and the boys took what work we could get. I worked cleaning ship’s bilges for a few scales, and several of the work team were gnolls, led by one named Ghonen. I ran into him during shore leave and when he saw the coin we brought back, he asked if his people could find work aboard,” Jacil said.

The system populated what a gnoll was for Larson, his mind suddenly knowing that they were hyena-like humanoids that were particularly warlike and hostile to the other races. Only a place like Stratwall Harbor, where almost anything goes, were gnolls, and other races like them, not kill on sight for the guards. He could imagine they had a hard time finding any work, prospective employers would expect a knife in the back as much as they’d expect a hard day’s labor from the race. Still, Larson wasn’t one to blanket judge an entire people based on the actions of some, even if the some turned out to be the majority.

“We’ve got a naga for a captain, orcs, halflings, and a two-headed ogre for our ship’s engineer, what’re a few gnolls added to the mix. How many are we talking about, and do they know anything about sailing?” Larson asked.

“That I’m not sure, but you can ask him directly if you want, he’s waiting over there to see if you’ll talk to him,” Jacil said, waving to a nearby tavern where a cloaked figure was hunched over a drink at an outside table. The figure perked up when Jacil motioned in his direction, and once he stood, the hood of the cloak fell back, revealing the canine features of a gnoll. People gave this Ghonen wide berth as he approached Larson, half looked scared, and the other half looked angry at the sight of the typically hostile humanoid.

“Ghonen, this is Captain Larson, no promises, like I told you, but he’ll hear you out and give you a fair shake,” Jacil told them before leaving the two and returning to his work.

“Jacil and his people have done good work for me, they’re small, but they’re tough and experienced sailors to boot, what would you bring to my crew?” Larson asked bluntly.

“Sir, my pack will work hard at whatever you tell us to do,” Ghonen offered. The gnoll was over seven feet tall and would have been intimidating if he wasn’t so gaunt. Times must have been hard for it, but Larson wasn’t running a charity, he was running a fleet of privateers.

“Lots of folks will offer to come aboard for a split of the loot, especially after seeing how fat the purses of my crew were after our last voyage. Hard workers are easy to come by, so I’ll ask again, what do offer other than simple labor?” Larson asked.

“We’ll be loyal, and we’ll only take a half-share if that helps,” Ghonen said.

“Loyalty is typically earned, not offered up as casually as you are. The Sea Venomis a privateer, we need hard-working and experienced sailors to crew and fight her. If you’ve no experience at sea, I can’t use you,” Larson replied. He needed crew, but the gnolls seemed like they would need too much babysitting and training before they would be of any use and he had the feeling they might jump ship once they got a decent payday.

“You’re going to fight? That’s what my pack does, fight. Show me your enemies and we’ll tear them apart. Anyone can learn to sail, but not everyone can kill. We have killed and my pack lusts for the hunt. Let us kill your enemies and you won’t be sorry,” Ghonen said, his growling voice going louder as he talked about fighting and killing. Two more gnolls appeared from the dockyard crowd, giving strange yipping sounds as they bared their sharp teeth.

“You needs help, boss?” The booming voice of Bug Bartholomew said, the huge ogre had seen the potential threat and had made his way over, followed by Ibn and several of his marines.

“I can handle this little puppy, Ghonen here was just getting worked up since I can’t use him on the crew,” Larson said, waving the others back. He was actually considering hiring the gnolls, using them to supplement his fighters once they got to the island with the portal, but he needed to know if the Gnolls could control their animalistic instincts.

“Puppy! I’m no puppy, I am a warrior, and I will not be insulted by a snake!” Ghonen shouted as he sprung toward Larson, sharp claws and teeth leading the way. Larson slithered back, summoning his shield to deflect the leaping gnoll and activating a Shield Bash. A dull, metallic thump sounded out as the shield hit home, knocking the gnoll over. Ghonen wasn’t giving up, staggering to his feet and stumbling toward Larson.

“You’re beaten, stand down,” Larson ordered.

“No, I can still fight,” Ghonen said. Larson gave him the second charge of shield bash, knocking the gnoll off his feet and leaving him panting on the rough wood of the dock. Squeals of pain sounded behind Larson, and he turned to see the other two gnolls firmly in the grasp of Bug Bartholomew who was shaking them and drooling while mumbling about how good a gnoll might taste.

“Hold off on any early lunch plans, Bug Bartholomew,” Larson ordered. The ogre looked disappointed but followed his command.

“You win, I yield,” Ghonen mumbled as he spat out a few broken teeth. The gnoll rolled over and presented his throat to Larson, a gesture that meant submission among their race.

“You’re not a very skilled fighter, but at least you didn’t give up and kept attacking until you weren’t physically able to continue. Your people are also loyal, running in to help you despite the ogre and marines I had at my back,” Larson acknowledged, offering Ghonen his hand to help pull the gnoll up. He was surprisingly light, further reinforcing to Larson that the gnoll had missed more than a few meals.

“Thank you for sparing me, we will pester you no further,” Ghonen said.

“Wait, even if I didn’t take you on as crew, I appreciate that you came here to plead your case. Let me at least offer you three a meal before you go, my cook isn’t too bad, and there are plenty of leftovers from breakfast,” Larson offered, noticing the trio of gnolls licking their lips at the mention of a meal.

“That is generous, thank you,” Ghonen replied. Larson send for Shada, asking her to heal the gnoll as he ate.

Larson continued to oversee the loading of their supplies and organizing the crew to move the ships over to the city’s warship dock. The Lost Soul was a sail-powered vessel and was more difficult to maneuver in the tight confines of the harbor than the Sea Venom, so the Venom was rigged to help tow her sister vessel the short distance needed. While he worked, Larson looked at the coin pouch given to him by Zeigfried. Lord Buxton had sent over three ducats, denominations that could only mean the good Sea Lord believed that Larson was seeking the payment for himself, not intending to distribute it to his crew. While it might be the norm in this world for captains to fleece their crew, that wasn’t who Larson was and he headed over to the Soul to find Tarley.

“Hey Tarley, Lord Buxton sent the promised payment for the crew along with the supplies, but he gave it to us in Ducats. Can you break it down into shares and see that everyone is paid?” Larson asked. From the look of worry on Tarley’s face, Larson could see that the man was overloaded with work, performing as acting captain of one ship and first mate for both vessels. “Hold up, just calculate the shares real quick, and I’ll distribute. Now that the ships are rigged for towing, I don’t have all that much to do,” Larson advised.

“Thank you sir, it will only take a moment,” Tarley said, sending for some paper, quill, and ink. The first mate mumbled to himself as he performed the calculations in his head. The standard payout was going to be one share for a crewman, two shares for specialists like their marines, five shares for the officers, and twenty-five shares for the captain. Once the calculations were done, Larson halted everyone’s efforts for the moment and gathered the combined crews aboard the Venom.

“Listen up, we have a lot of work to do, so I’ll keep this short. We’re heading out to investigate a potential danger to Stratwall Harbor. The Imperium troops aboard will do most of the heavy lifting, but we’ll need to pitch in as well if there’s a fight. Lord Buxton and the sea lords have recognized the potential threat and in addition to a share of any loot we find at our destination, we also have been given a bit of coin to see us on our way. I want each work team to queue up to receive your share. Once you get paid, get back to work, we need to sail as soon as this is done,” Larson said, the crew cheering at the mention of fresh coins.

Their pockets had been filled when they arrived, but even a day in port had put a serious dent into a sailor’s hauls. Larson could remember that much the same thing had happened back in his old life, perhaps that was a universal characteristic for sailors, the ability to go through money faster than anyone. Each share wasn’t a huge amount, only a fin and a couple of handfuls of scales, but the crew seemed happy enough with the payout, especially since it was a payout before the voyage had even begun.

“Captain, I think you might want to see this,” the ship’s cook, Gilroy said as Larson finished handing out the last of the coin.

“What’s going on?” Larson asked, anxious to get underway, and not exactly happy with additional interruptions.

“It’s them gnolls sir, they’re not only eating like their half-starved, but they’re stashing away anything they can when they think that I’m not looking,” Gilroy said.

Larson waved over a pair of marines and approached the trio of gnolls who were licking the last scraps out of their bowls. The rips and tears on their dirty and tattered clothing did little to hide loaves of bread and various bits of food they were going to try and make off with once they were done eating their fill. Larson had more than enough provisions, but he didn’t have enough that he could stand by and let guests at his table rob him.

“Ghonen, what do you and your friends think you’re doing? I’m gracious enough after beating you to invite you to a meal and you use it as an opportunity to pilfer everything that’s not nailed down,” Larson growled. The leader of the gnolls looked shocked and ashamed that they had been caught.

“My apologies, once again, Captain Larson. We thought you wouldn’t miss it, and the rest of the pack is hungry. There’s not much work for my kind here,” Ghonen said as the trio emptied their loot on the empty crate they had been using as a makeshift table. It was mostly half-eaten loaves and sausages from their breakfast and some nearly empty bags that had held the oats used to make the porridge. It was the leftover scraps, and to their credit, the gnolls had only taken food and didn’t try and take anything valuable.

“How many are in your pack?” Larson asked.

“Twenty-six, ten warriors and their mates as well as six cubs,” Ghonen said.

“Send one of your men to gather them, all of them,” Larson ordered. Using the strange yipping noises that passed for the gnoll language, Ghonen ordered one of the gnolls to run off to find the rest of their pack.

“Captain, we’re just about ready to cast off,” Tarley advised. The last of the supplies were stowed and the crew was ready to go. The sun had fully risen, and Larson didn’t want to waste any of their dockyard time, but he also needed to resolve this situation with the gnolls.

“Very well, I’m sending Gilroy aboard to gather enough to feed twenty or so people. I want you to cast off and make for the warship docks and soon as he’s done. Crew the ship's boats to help guide you in. Let’s see how the boys do without my magic smoothing the seas for them. I’ll join you once I’m done here,” Larson said.

Gilroy returned just as the last lines were cast off, accompanied by Ibn and another pair of marines, all of them loaded down with sacks of food. Larson summoned his weapons, ready for this confrontation to turn bloody if need be. Thankfully, the guardsmen that patrolled the area didn’t interfere, content to leave Larson and his crew be unless they caused too much of a disturbance. The few coins and free meals he provide while in port had gone a long way toward smoothing out any potential problems with the dockyard guard.

It didn’t take long for a bedraggled group of gnolls to arrive, the warriors standing protectively around the smaller female gnolls and the half dozen toddlers running alongside their mothers. Like children everywhere, the gnolls cubs seemed excited by doing something out of the ordinary, ignoring that their parents were tense and fearful. Ghonen stood and spoke to his pack, who all turned and bared their throats to Larson.

“My pack has arrived, I ask you spare our cubs and their mothers,” Ghonen pleaded, seemingly convinced that Larson was going to end him and his pack for the petty theft he had committed. Larson was a hard man, and one that would surely end a thief’s life without a second thought, but he had just wanted to see the gnoll families to confirm what he suspected as soon as he saw the food being stolen. The warriors were gaunt like Ghonen, but the children looked much better. They were still thin, but it was obvious that the pack was going hungry to keep them fed.

“You stole this for the cubs, didn’t’ you?” Larson asked.

“Yes, they were hungry, and we couldn’t return with full bellies and not try to bring them something,” Ghonen admitted.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. Gilroy here is going to see that your pack is fed, then, we’ll see about hiring on a few of you. I can’t babysit your whole pack, but I appreciate a man or gnoll who is willing to go without to see that his kin are fed,” Larson said. Relief washed over the assembled gnolls as Ghonen translated Larson’s words. Some of the warriors seemed to understand what Larson had said, but the majority of the gnolls seemed to only know their racial language.

“Thank you for your generosity, Captain Larson, we shall serve you well,” Ghonen promised. The pack fell upon the food Gilroy had laid out, sharing it out and scarfing it down quickly as if they were worried it would be taken away.

“I’d like you and five of your warriors to join the crew, you choose, but make sure you leave someone behind who can speak common,” Larson ordered.

Ghonen took the two that had already been with him and found three more among the assembled pack. None had armor, and the only weapons among them were the crude knives belted about their waists. All the new crewmen knelt in front of Larson and his marines, presenting their necks once more as Ghonen spoke.

“My pack is yours to command, we will fight to protect you and our new packmates and do all we can to see our combined pack thrive,” Ghonen pronounced solemnly.

“Good, we’re not much on formality here, but I appreciate the effort. Now we need to make it over to the dockyard, there’s a lot to do today and we sail with the evening tide. Now that some of you are part of my crew, I have a signing bonus for you,” Larson said, passing his personal share of Buxton’s payment over to the gnoll leader.

“Thank you again, this will see my people fed while we are gone,” Ghonen advised, passing the coin pouch off to one of the female gnolls.

“When you need to buy food or anything else, go to my shop near the warehouse district. The shop is called the Privateer’s Provisions and Lucian will sell food and necessities at cost for the family of my crew,” Larson advised.

He wrote a quick note to Lucian, explaining the gnolls and the arrangement they had. Larson wasn’t sure the shop needed more workers, but if it did, the gnolls would make a good labor pool, and the remaining warriors might even make a good, and cheap, guard force to keep the street thugs and local gangs at bay. Those not sailing with Larson took their leave and headed back into the city. Ghonen and the selected gnolls followed Larson to the shipyards where the warship docks were located. He wasn’t sure if the gnolls would fit in with the crew or not, but at least for now, Ghonen and his warriors seemed loyal and ready to work.