== VORTEX QUEST 6-2 ==
== ANTI-PIRACY MEASURES ==
Killing hundreds, even thousands of slaves at once, had thrown the region into a fuel crisis from which it was bouncing back with some growing pains.
Nearly all soul-powered vessels had been forced to land for a while and the ability of lords and champions to project their power had been limited. Now lords, clans and tribes were struggling to reestablish their trade routes and territorial claims with a lot of no man's land -- or air -- still barely guarded.
Obviously, this was a glorious opportunity for a ragtag gang of misfits to steal a ship and start a pirate crew. Especially a vision barge, able to camouflage itself.
Marcus was pretty excited about the idea.
Flying ships had turned out a lot less fun than he'd have imagined, since you spent most of the time just going places with no on-board entertainment, but a chameleon boat held promise.
Right now, though, it was the waiting game again, until the pirates moved through the one-mile-narrow passage the pantheon was scouting.
On a flat platform, at the edge of a crawlway entrance, Xane and Marcus stood next to each other, spread legs touching, squatting and lightly bent forward, fists in each other's asses.
Their free dicks were flopping pointlessly, spent from a mage-mouth suckjob. Marcus was glad to be flaccid again. He kept getting irritated by his dick being in the way.
"There," Xane said, through an abs-flexing spasm. "Smoke signal."
Slightly higher than them, on the opposite passage wall, Chay's puffs were rising. Xane conjured a well-directed flash to respond and covered himself and Marcus with an illusory rock.
The demigods slipped back into their golden fundoshi and waited.
Marcus bathed in the afterglow of casual sex, then noticed to his irritation that he was getting erect. It wasn't even fun anymore. He pulled his dick out and rubbed out a quick few cumshots, holding his breath to speed it up.
In the meantime, the pirates moved in.
The gray ship was maybe fifteen feet long, a typical flat barge looking like an upside down sailing ship. The two sails hanging under the deck and the additional wing-sails at the side got pulled in by Hellions in leather harnesses. A soap bubble established itself around the vessel and distorted to fit itself to the elongated shape.
A round puff of smoke. The signal.
Xane let the rock fade and gave himself and Marcus butterfly wings. This used up most of his available magic now that he had no motes. Still, the thaum-mage gave himself an aura of red sparks and glowing eyes. Marcus set his mohawk, hands and feet ablaze with holy fire.
They flew at the ship like cannonballs. Chay and Goro descended from their position, aiming for the center of the vessel.
Just as invisibility laid itself across the vision bubble, the demigod duo burst through, slipping between the arches at the bow and landed with a booming sound effect.
The four-armed, yellow Kobold at the steering console reached for an arquebus the size of his torso. A mage-hand took it from him.
The lizardman tossed a knife at them. Marcus didn't even have to move. He had lost his chakram, which brutally reduced his range options, but he had been given greater animus-power, whitefire extending his limbs' reach by a good foot.
He slapped the knife from its trajectory, embedding the blade in a dark wood pillar.
The wizard shoved the disarmed Kobold ahead of him into the main area of the ship, where tied down crates towered between cabins.
A Glooper stopped mid-motion, its jelly body filled with half-digested bones.
"Pirates," Xane shouted into the ship. "This vessel is now under our command. If you're willing to work for us, come here without weapons."
A cabin to their right burst open, three Kobolds leaping out, long scimitars in each hand.
Marcus raised his clasped hands and let them come down on the first head, charring the lizardman's scalp to the skull just as the force crushed him. The martial artists used the momentum to bring himself into the air, legs apart and bent. Each foot -- with the help of his holy fire extension -- slammed into an angry face hard enough to break necks.
The three bodies barely had time to hit the ground before more enemies streamed into-
"We surrender," said the hostage from the steering console.
Four Hellions held their position.
"Are you the captain?" Xane asked in Boldian.
"Yes?" the Kobold said, all four arms shrugging. "If we have such a thing."
"Good. Make them stand down. We're the *new* captains."
Xane released the ex-captain from his mage-hand grip and the Kobold stumbled back. "You heard the... slave?"
"Demigod," Xane said. "Or human, or whatever."
A Troll marched into the room which was getting crowded. The Glooper pressed itself between crates with squelching sounds, to make space.
The Troll was the typical eight foot, neck-less, musclebound troglodyte with a tool belt holding his leather loin cloth, a ring in both major tusks, a bone through the pig-nose and a few allegiance tattoos.
He was followed by Chay and Goro.
