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Interlude 4 - Acid Advisors
🕑 Added 2021-01-09 00:42:53 +0000 UTCThe Piraca are one of the most peculiar species that inhabit the Caligare forest.
Physically, they look like a mix between a bat, a vulture and a fish, with wrinkly, rubbery pale blue skin. The Piraca lacks any sort of visible natural weapons, such as talons or teeth, and even their beaks are not sharp, but appearances can be deceiving, since they do possess a lethal hidden weapon. From their leech-like tongue, Piracas can shoot a tremendously powerful acid, capable of melting any creature into a puddle of goo, which then the Piraca can drink. Since they lack teeth, this defensive method is also how they feed. They can also store this goo inside of an internal pouch for later use, which is either their personal consumption or regurgitating it inside of their colony's Pond.
Also, the skin of all Piraca is outright immune to any acid, and it's commonly used to make acid-resistant clothings.
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Piraca are highly social creatures and usually live in big colonies of hundreds of individuals. At the core of every colony is a huge pool of goo, called Piraca Pond, which is the center of all the Piraca life. The Pond is not only a food reserve, but it's also how the Piraca reproduces, as they spontaneously spawn from the goo. Finally, it's been rumored that the Pond is also the focus of all Piraca magic, though no man alive has ever lived to confirm this.
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Piraca are divided into two subspecies: Thralls and Nobles. Piraca Thralls are smaller and weaker, about half the size of an average adult human, and they have somewhat limited intelligence and personality. On their own, they are timid and cowardly, only being aggressive in big numbers, but they become much more determined when ordered around by a Noble, since they seem to have a natural need to obey a Noble's every order. A Thrall's only natural weapon is their acidic spit, but they're known for also using simple items, such as clubs or spears. Finally, the Thralls are incapable of flight, but they can somehow use their flappy skins to glide over short distances.
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Piraca Nobles are a much more rare breed of Piraca and they are always the leaders of Piraca colonies. They are much larger than Thralls, usually reaching two meters of height, and they have much more wrinkly skin, which they can control at will and even turn into wings capable of flight and that they drape around their bodies like robes when not in use. Nobles are also extremely intelligent with a natural penchant for intrigue, and in bigger colonies they spend a lot of time plotting against each other, deciding their leaders based on their scheming ability. They also like to give themselves complicated, overly long names and pretentious title while behaving in overly formal ways, though their bestial, aggressive nature often shines through this civilized facade. Indeed, while they do like to pretend to be civilized, all Piraca are still very animalistic and violent, and ultimately their discussions inevitably end up in physical altercations. Finally, the Nobles are also the only ones of their species capable of using their racial magic, which mostly consist in the manipulation of acid and life force. This magic is mostly performed through rituals that involve a Piraca Pond as both focus and fuel for the spells, and the casting actually consumes the goo. As a consequence, the bigger the Pond is, the greater is the magic capability of a Piraca colony.
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Though no one can guarantee for their truthfulness, there are also rumors about a very rare subspecies called Piraca Emperor. According to these rumors, a Piraca Emperor is very similar to a Noble, only bigger and possessing a crimson skin instead of a pale blue one, and it possesses exceptional powers that put it way ahead of the rest of its kin. In addition to that, the usually squabbling and traitorous Nobles instinctively obey an Emperor with the same zeal with which the Thralls serve them. However, there are no official records of the existence of such a creature.
Excerpt from “A Wayfarer's Guide to the Unknown Volume III, Creatures and Monsters” by Septim Logan, published by Auric Golden Press
The sun had set over the Caligare Forest, and the last lights of the day were slowly fading on the horizon, but the stronghold of the Piraca was still bustling with activities. The Thralls scurried all over the dark corridors of the ancient fortress, which was called Mount Fang by its current inhabitant, while a few Nobles were flying up in the sky, keeping guard against any possible attack, though the barrier of acidic mist should have been enough to deter any such attempt. After all, one couldn't be cautious enough when surrounded by an entire army of orcs.
But the core of all the activity was the great hall of the fortress. It had always been a rather big room, but now it had been expanded further, with many walls being teared down while the floor had been almost completely removed, leaving only a huge crater which occupied all of the lower levels of the fortress. Inside of this huge hole was the colony's Pond, a veritable small lake of bubbling goo which glowed with a sickly green light, illuminating the hall and its current occupants. Dozen of Piraca Nobles were standing on a platform, the only floor left on the room, discussing with each other, while a red-skinned Piraca of humongous proportions sat at the edge of that platform on a makeshift, rudimentary throne made of bones and wood, silently watching over them.
Turemalac Nir Olotai, Ruler of Mount Fang, Sovereign of the Skies, Tyrant of the Caligare Forest, Emperor of the Piraca and owner of many other titles, also known as the Crimson Devil by the other races, struggled not to let out a tired, exasperated sigh. As usual the Nobles of his court were busy bickering amongst themselves and as their leader he was expected to pay attention to their machinations, but that kind of pointless verbal skirmish simply bore him. He didn't really share his kin's love for political intrigue, as he much preferred actions to words, but sadly he was expected to mediate his subjects' disputes, so he had to listen to the endless arguments of the Piraca Nobles. Luckily his position usually put him above the consequences of whatever intrigue was going on in his court, so normally he could afford to just pretend to pay attention and then just pass a random judgement on whatever the subject of the day was. He had gotten so good at this that all of the other nobles thought that his deliberations had some machiavellian, imperscrutable scheme behind them, instead of seeing them for what they really were. This left him free to focus on schemes that were actually important, like the plans to conquer the Caligare forest and the lands beyond.
However, things had changed over the last few months and now he had to actually pay attention, since many of his previously loyal subjects had started to subtly challenge his authority, something he knew he had to be extremely wary of.
One of those Nobles in particular, Miriadon Ludomair Madroma, the so called Overseer of the Acidic Glade, was especially annoying because he acted as the unofficial spokesman for those who had gripes with Turemalac’s rule.
The Emperor really wished to put the little twat in his place, which would be the bottom of the Pond as far as he was concerned, but sadly Miriadon was extremely careful not to go too far with his words, and Turemalac couldn’t afford to kill him without a clear, plausible cause under the current circumstances. So, for the time being, he had to tolerate the slimy little weasel talking rubbish in front of him, though he eagerly waited for the day when he would make a faux pas and would have to face the consequences of his insolence.
“We think that it would be in the best interest of the whole colony... no, in the best interest of the whole Piraca race, to abandon this fortress and head back to our domains in the mountains.” Miriadon was saying right now. “After all, staying in here on Mount Fant serves no real practical purpose. We are free to leave anytime we want, and then we'd be free to attack the orcs at our leisure. ”
A lot of Nobles nodded in agreement, more than Turemalac had expected, something which made him feel furious. After all, he had already explained why they had to remain on Mount Fang and endure the siege! Had they forgotten that already!?!
But sadly he couldn't say that right now, since doing so would make it seem as if he needed to justify himself to his subjects, something that would be seen as an unforgivable weakness, completely unbecoming of an Emperor. Luckily, however, there were still Nobles loyal to him who were ready to fight back those complaints.
“That would mean running away and surrendering the fortress to the orcs!” Cried Gulumag Kel Droomakai, the Monarch of the Misty Valley and Turemalac's staunchest supporter. “If we do that, we'd lose our Pond, and all the power we have amassed in it! It'd take months, if not years, to build it up again! And that would give the orcs free rein to expand further and consolidate their power!”
Again, many nobles nodded and muttered in agreement, and even the Emperor subtly nodded with approval. At least someone still remembered his words!
“I agree that it seems like a waste to leave our Pond behind, especially after all the trouble we went through in order to fill it.” Miriadon conceded, albeit in a very condescending tone. “But we have to face the fact that soon there won't be a Pond left. It's already half of what it used to be before the siege, and maintaining the acid barrier keeps draining it at an alarming rate. I'd say that it'd be better to take whatever we can and start over somewhere else, before we're forced to leave by starvation.”
“Did you hear what I told you before? Doing so would hand over the Caligare Forest to the orcs on a silver platter!” Gulumag cried with outrage. “Besides, as our venerable Emperor has told us, the orcs’ supplies are gonna be depleted much sooner than our Pond! All we have to do is to be careful not to consume too much goo and we’re gonna win this war!”
These words cause mixed reactions amongst the nobles. Those most loyal to Turemalac cheered, but most of the presents seemed rather doubtful, though they didn’t openly voice their concerns for fear of retaliation. Even Miriadon wasn’t bold enough to directly criticize his Emperor, and when he spoke again, he did so in a cautious tone, carefully choosing every word.
“If our Emperor said it, then it must be the truth.” He said, desperately trying to erase any trace of snark from his voice. “But still, it’s our duty to advise him to the best of our ability. And it is my humble opinion that while following our Emperor will surely lead us to victory, we could benefit more from not fighting at all.” He opened and closed his beak a few times, which was the Piraca equivalent of a snarky giggle. “Let the orcs think they control the forest, if they want to. After all, they can’t possibly reach our nests in the mountains, while we can fly anywhere we please. And besides, more orcs would mean more prey for us to hunt, so building up our new Pond would be easy. That way, the orcs controlling the Forest could be the best possible thing for us.”
These words caused Gulumag and his posse to start squawking with anger, calling Miriadon traitor and other such names. However, there were also many who openly sided with the rebellious noble, an act of open defiance that would have been unthinkable just a few months prior, while the majority of those who remained neutral also seemed to seriously consider Miriadon's words.
Turemalac realized that the balance was slowly shifting against him and those loyal to him. If he wanted to maintain control, he needed to do something, and he needed to do it now, imperial protocol be damned.
Without a word, he waved his hand and exerted his will, and the Pond started bubbling in response. Then he closed his fist, and the goo exploded out of the pool like a geyser, rising almost to the roof while the whole fortress shook as if hit by an earthquake.
The Nobles immediately stopped squabbling, freezing in their place and cowering in fear in front of that display of power. Meanwhile, while his subjects were still in awe, the Emperor got up from his throne, giving a dramatic stare to his audience before speaking up.
“That's enough.” He said, with a calm but also ice cold voice. “We are not abandoning Mount Fang, and if any of you make that suggestion again, I will personally drown that fool in the Pond!” He turned slightly towards Miriadon, who trembled like a scared rabbit but said nothing. “In case you didn't notice, the orcs we're facing right now are different from the orcs you've faced in the past. They are no longer a bunch of stupid savages. They are an united and even somewhat organized force, one that has been systematically eliminating all possible threats over the past few years... and the Piraca are the biggest threat. If you think they'd leave us alone if we just hide in our mountain nest, then you're not just a fool, you're the entire circus!” His voice became harder. “The only way we can survive is if we manage to defeat the orcs first. And the only way we can do that is to endure this siege!” He turned away, once again addressing all of the Nobles. “I've already explained how this is possible once before, but since it seems that you're all quite forgetful, I shall explain it again. While it's true that the orcs have the advantage as far as numbers are concerned, those same numbers are also their weakness, since they lack the supplies to properly feed themselves for a prolonged period of time. Meanwhile, our Pond contains enough goo to keep us fed for at least another month, even taking into consideration the drain caused by the barrier. So all we have to do is to sit and wait, and in a week or two the orcs will be driven to the brink of starvation, dissolving their unity and organization into anarchy and chaos! And then, they're gonna be an easy pick for us! We will feed them to our Pond, increasing our power and finally obtaining absolute supremacy over the Forest! And once we've done that, we will have enough power to take over the world!”
As he spoke, he slowly let go of his power, and the fortress stopped trembling and became silent just as he finished his discourse, so that a deep, dramatic silence would follow his words. The Nobles, of course, were at first too shaken to actually talk, but then Gulumag shook himself from that stupor, and kneeled in front of his Emperor.
“Long live Emperor Turemalac!” He cried. “May his blessed rule last forever! May he guide us to our promised future!”
All of the other nobles followed the Monarch's example, kneeling and starting singing Turemalac's praises. Even Miriadon himself did so, though the Emperor could still see the shadow of doubt in his mannerism. Quite alarmingly, he could see the same thing reflected in most of his Nobles.
Turemalac sat back on his throne, struggling to stifle an angry growl. He had seen the same doubtful expression for months and he was getting real tired of it by now.
After that intermission, the Nobles resumed their squabbling, this time over minor things, but Turemalac didn't listen to them anymore, as he was distracted by his own bitter thoughts.
“I've united the whole Piraca race, I've made them more powerful than they have ever been and I laid the foundation for a great empire... but the moment I suffer a single defeat, they all start doubting me!” He struggled to suppress the urge to scowl. “Bunch of ingrates! If it wasn't for me, they'd all have been hunted down to extinction by the orcs and the Rantul!”
Sadly, getting incensed would get him nowhere, so he reined in his anger. After all, he was confident in his plan. His most accurate foretelling ritual, which had left him tired for a week, assured him that this plan had a success rate of 91%. So, while the possibility of failure was still there, he thought it was small enough to be negligible. After all, the orcs couldn't possibly get over the acid barrier surrounding Mount Fang, so the Piraca just had to wait until their enemies were weak enough and their victory was all but assured. All that Turemalac needed to do was to keep them under control until then, and he was confident that he could do that. After all, he had learned all there was to know about how to be a leader in his previous life.
Back then he was a human on a world called Earth, and originally he had been born in a very wealthy family. His father was a tough person, with a reputation for complete ruthlessness when doing business, but he was also a loving family man, and thanks to him Turemalac didn't want for anything in his childhood. He was almost like royalty, with his family's reputation and money opening every door in front of him, and his future looked bright.
Sadly, that was not to be for long.
His father was betrayed by his most trusted subordinate, who revealed himself to be a mole for the government. Then, in just about a week, Turemalac's life was completely turned upside down in the most shitty way possible: first his father was arrested, then all of the family assets were seized by the state, and finally he was sent to live with one of his aunts on a dilapidated condo where he had no access to any of the luxuries he had previously enjoyed. Worse still, he was forced to attend a rundown public school, where pretty much everyone hated his guts because of his father's reputation. So, after going from an almost royal lifestyle to a hellish cycle of getting yelled at, eating cheap pre-cooked meals and getting his head showed in the toilet at school, it was no surprise that he turned into a shut-in, finding solace in watching anime and reading manga, especially Isekai ones where the protagonist gained a lot of power, turning from a loser to an unstoppable conqueror. He liked to see himself in those characters, and the escapism provided by those stories helped him tolerate his less than ideal circumstances.
Then, just a few years later, his dreams did come true. He died after being shoved down the stairs by his bullies and hitting his head badly, a pathetic death if there ever was one, but after that he was reborn as the one and only Piraca Emperor and he finally obtained the life of privilege and power he had yearned for. Sure, there were a few things that weren't ideal, like being forced to live inside of an uncivilized forest for example, but that could be changed. After all, he knew that there were civilized lands beyond the borders of the Caligare Forest, and if he gathered a strong enough host of Piraca, he could very well conquer them and create a cozy empire for himself. And he was confident that he could do that. After all, he had all kinds of aces up his —metaphorical, since he was actually naked— sleeves.
Apart from being the natural born leader of his Race, being an Emperor came with all sorts of advantages. First of all, he could actually perform his racial magic at a level that was unfathomable for the rest of his kin: what took his Nobles hours-long rituals and sacrifices to perform, he could do with just a gesture. For example, he was the one who had created the acid barrier, and the quality of that spell was such that it didn't even need any conscious effort to be maintained. And in addition to that, he had also been given a unique power in order to succeed: the ability to predict the future —at least to a certain extent. By feeding some of his own life-force to the Pond, he could get to know the odds of specific future events happening, an amazing ability that had allowed him to successfully lead the Piraca, always making the right decisions even without having the full picture. Sadly though this power, as useful as it was, still had some limitations. First of all, since Turemalac had to sacrifice his own life energy in order to perform the foretelling, it always left him weak and vulnerable for a few days, so he tried to use it as little as possible. Then there was the fact that this ability only answered very specific questions and those answers were always in the form of a percentage, so even while taking the most promising odds, the chance of failure was always there for any odds that weren’t 100% in his favor. He had learned it the hard way during his decisive battle against the orcs: back then he had been foretold that his chance of winning were 85%, which he thought were good enough to risk them in a decisive battle. But instead, the orcs had not only delivered a crushing defeat to the Piraca forces but they had also managed to capture a lot of Nobles alive for them to eat, something which allowed a lot of them to evolve into ogres.
After that he had become much more cautious when making his predictions, but sadly the damage was done, as the trust that the Nobles had in him had been broken, and with it their unquestioning loyalty. Even though they still didn’t dare to challenge him directly, they had started to actually question his orders and even his motivations, in particular his strategy of waiting for the orcs to fall on their own. That plan didn’t really sit well with most Nobles, and many of them, led by Miriadon, wanted to leave Mount Fang and return to their previous domains. But the Emperor couldn't allow that. If his past life's experience taught him anything, it was that he couldn't trust anyone, and having the Nobles go back to their old territories would put them out of his direct supervision, thus making any potential betrayal much easier. No, as the old saying went, he had to keep his friend close, and his enemies closer — though Turemalac didn't actually have any friend, nor he wanted any, since friendship kinda implied a level of equality and he wanted to be superior to anyone else. He just didn't trust any of his subordinates, except maybe the Thralls, since their instinctive compulsion to obey his orders and relative lack of intelligence made them perfect minions. Watching them scuttling around while single-mindedly carrying on the orders given to them was incredibly satisfying, and made him regret that he couldn't exert the same level of control on everyone else.
Turemalac shook his head to distract himself from those thoughts, and felt his eyelid shaking, which was the Piraca equivalent of a yawn.
“I must be getting tired.” He thought. “Not surprising, since I had a long day. Better to call off the meeting. These idiots can resume their bickering tomorrow, if that makes them feel better... but still, that won't change the fact that I'm the only one actually taking all the decisions!”
He raised his hand, getting ready to address everyone else in the room and close the discussions for the night... and then, all of a sudden, a series of explosions shook the castle to its foundation.
Comments
BlackFire13th
Well looks like the orcs are going to cripple both the rantaul and piraca before taking the reincarnated ones to help conquer Marcus and the humans.
