Sareneth 27

The galley was practically spotless, lit by the sunset through three circular windows. The counters, though less than half the size of the ones in Kroop’s domain, yielded up a tremendous expanse of smooth, polished work space. The walls were lined with gleaming pots, pans, knives, and tongs, all spaced out just enough to allow one to be picked out without jostling its neighbors.

The man responsible for this immaculate kitchen turned to me as I entered, his flat expression holding as much warmth as his ice box. The chef of the Man’s Promise, a man named Salyar, put down his rag and crossed his arms. He stared at me, waiting.

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“Hello,” I began, mildly intimidated by the quiet man. “I was hoping I could use the kitchen. I promise to clean up when I’m done.”

I was kinda hoping that he’d be gone already. He sleeps with the rest of the crew, right?

He grunted.

“Why?” He asked, frowning. “I am the chef. What need do you have for the kitchen at this late hour? If you use any ingredients, or leave my kitchen in an unfit state, I may be punished.”

“I will use a few scraps,” I admitted, “but nothing substantial. I need to make something tasty for someone very small.”

His neutral expression twisted ever so slightly into a scowl.

“You’re calling outsiders?” He growled. “In my kitchen?”

“No, not in your kitchen.” I scrambled to assure him, “I’ll take the offering away to my office before I do anything else.”

“What will you do, then, to make me wish to help you?” He asked, challenging.

“Look, man.” I said with a sigh. “I could threaten you. I could make demands. I could even try charming you. Instead, I’m going to offer you one gold piece to let me do my thing. Deal?”

Salyar had been allowed to keep his position in theory, but the realities of his situation weren’t sunshine and rainbows. Most of his possessions, save those he needed for his job, had been ripped away from him and distributed to the crew or the shared pile of Booty on the Wormwood. A single gold piece was enough to get food and board for a month if he was frugal, and if he intended to leave later he would certainly need supplies. He frowned, took the gold piece, and took up a vigil at the galley door. Arms crossed, he watched me like a hawk the entire time I was in the kitchen.

I flitted around the kitchen, feeding the oven and gathering small bits. The ice box was fully depleted, so there would be no meat. Indeed, there was very little in general that was prepared for consumption on such short notice. I couldn’t even think of much I could do with the dried fruit on short notice, except to slap it onto a plate and call it a fruit salad. 

At long last, I took up a ship’s biscuit and delicately cut wafer thin slices the length of my finger. They were still stiff, which was exactly as I hoped. When I had eight such slices, I cut off small slices of hard white cheese and a few dabs of butter, then toasted the cheese on the biscuit wafers. The results were more of a snack than a meal to someone my size, but when I tried one it was reasonably tasty, with the biscuit slightly softened by the butter and grease to a chewy texture. It would have to do. (Profession: Cook 9+6=15) (+1 influence with Salyar)

By the time I was finished, Salyar was watching with more interest than hostility. The cheese and butter were in short supply, but I’d used them more as a seasoning than anything else. Very little had actually gone into the meal. My only hope was that they would last until I could summon their recipient. I tossed a few dried berries into the bowl with the cheese sticks, thanked the chef, and hurried off.

I was hoping to summon Dame Dierdre in a less restrictive role, since she seemed level headed enough to trust as a general aide. She had seemed amenable to the idea when last we spoke, but she’d also made her demands clear. She wanted food and entertainment as a part of the deal. I’d tapped Conchobar and Rosie to help with the latter, and this improvised snack would have to do for the former. Unfortunately, I was intercepted on my way to the store.

Caulky was flushed, refusing to meet my eyes. She was wringing her hands as she prepared to speak.

Shit. I haven’t seen her since this morning. Is she having regrets?

“Emrys. We need to talk.” She said softly, clearly worried about being overheard. “I really enjoyed last night, but I don’t think it should happen again.”

“Why not?” I asked, “did I do something wrong? I apologize if I did.”

There was a long moment where she sought answers from her boots.

“Not exactly.” She said at long last. “It’s just that any kind of fraternization with you would be unbecoming of an officer. Especially when you, you know, have other girls. It wouldn’t be seemly to have the first mate be seen as one of several girls you’re sleeping with. I don’t think there are any rumors yet, but there would be eventually.”

Hold up. Wouldn’t be seemly? Unbecoming of an officer? Like hell if that’s how Caulky talks. 

“According to who?” I asked, already suspecting I knew the answer.

“Sebastien.” She admitted, still refusing to meet my gaze. “It came up over dinner. He pried it out of me, really, but he made some really good points. I’m a young officer. It’ll be hard enough for me to be taken seriously without rumors flying around that I put out easy or that you’re getting special favor.”

Fuck you Plugg. I really do need to get to the store before this gets cold, though. Autopilot, try to argue the point? I don’t necessarily need her fucking me but it sounds like Plugg is trying to drive a wedge here. 

“I see,” I responded with faintly exaggerated dismay. “I would never demand more than you are willing to give. The idea of this reflecting poorly on you absolutely never crossed my mind. The women of my home take what they want, and are respected for the strength of will needed to do so. Is that not the Shackles way, to do as you wish and let the world hang if they object?” (Diplomacy 12+7=19) 

“Yeah.” She admitted, “I mean, it is, but the power dynamic…”

“Of course,” I said, “I am ever your servant; do not hesitate to come to me for anything.”

“I need to think.” She said, “Thank you for understanding.”

“You’re in a tough position.” I said, patting her on the shoulder, “just make sure you consider what you want.”

We parted ways, me to the store and her to her room. When I arrived in my office, I found Rosie, Conchobar, and Rowe waiting for me. I had asked Conchobar to assist with my first repeat summoning. Dame Dierdre had requested food and entertainment; I was a semi professional chef and I knew a musician. Easy enough to arrange. Rosie had volunteered to play her fiddle in accompaniment, and Rowe had insisted on coming along too.

I'd considered taking another pass at Sandara, but thought better of it. As much as I wanted to sleep with Sandara, that was still very much a slow burn. On some level I’d made peace with any possibility there; either sleeping with her was inevitable or it was never going to happen. I had a definite preference, of course, but I had too many plates spinning to let her eat up all my evenings. The fact that I’d gotten my rocks off the night before probably contributed to this line of reasoning.

The summoning itself went well; I set out the cheese sticks and berries for her, along with a small thimble full of grog. At my signal, Conchobar began his set a few moments before Dierdre arrived. I’d been expecting Rosie to join in, but I was a bit taken aback when Rowe provided the vocals in a clear soprano.

“What will we do with a drunken sailor, what will we do with a drunken sailor, what will we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning?” She sang, tapping one foot to the beat.

I was so surprised at Rowe’s use of proper grammar that I initially neglected Dame Dierdre to watch. She took the wafer with justifiable skepticism, but after a few bites seemed to deem it acceptable. The music, similarly, did not immediately impress. The flute was loud enough to make discussion difficult in the small room, and Rowe had no time for concepts like “an inside voice”. I signaled Conchobar to stop, and Dame Dierdre favored me with a tolerant smile.

“An excellent first effort, sir,” she said politely, “in future mayhap you shall refine your hospitality further.”

“When I have more autonomy, I hope to provide better fare,” I said, “and the acoustics of this room are unflattering. I do, however, have something that I hope will serve as payment.”

I presented the Amulet of The Open Book to her. It was a small gold disk, embedded with a pale green stone. As she placed one hand upon it, the necklace shrank rapidly until it was sized for a Barbie doll. She admired it, running her fingers along the impossibly small links of the chain.

Supposedly this thing reads thoughts, but a trustworthy fairy lookout is worth quite a lot and I can only wear one magic necklace at a time. 

“Is this to be a gift, sir?” She asked, raising one eyebrow, “it is fine indeed, and my gratitude would be eternal if so.”

“I am not quite that generous.” I answered with a chuckle. “It is a magical amulet that supposedly allows the reader to listen to thoughts, though I haven’t tested it myself. If you agree to assist me when I call for the foreseeable future with no further payment demanded, it is yours. I’d also be willing to loan it to you for one week in return for three day’s service. What do you think?”

Her eyes lit up as I described the amulet, her lips quirking into a mischievous smile.

“You wish to take me on as a retainer?” She said, “I will expect you to continue to provide acceptable accommodations, of course.”

“I can promise only that you will sleep in conditions of equal quality to my own, and dine on food as good as I consume myself.” I promised. “I can not promise anything better in good faith. In return, I ask that you accompany me and assist me, taking care to preserve my health and reputation in good faith while you act at your discretion.”

I was attempting to negotiate without the opposed charisma check. Autopilot could take the wheel if I failed, but it didn’t seem necessary for Dame Dierdre. Besides, rolling meant that I was trusting in luck; there was always a 5% chance of fucking up royally even if the odds were in my favor.

“Your terms are generous, and I accept them with conditions.” Dame Dierdre said, “should this amulet be as you describe, I shall heed your call without further demands once per moon for so long as we both shall live. If you have been false, then this amulet is forfeit and any value it has is mine in recompense.”

“That seems reasonable, so long as it is based on my intent instead of any trickery.” I agreed, “I’m not going to be held responsible if the amulet is altered by going to your world or something. I have told you all I know.”

“You would question my honor?” She demanded, clearly affronted, her hand resting on her sword hilt, “I would never attempt any such trickery.”

“I am not accusing you of anything.” I countered, “I’m just requesting that the terms be symmetrical. I will operate in good faith, you will operate in good faith, and we will not be penalized for things outside of our control. You are the one who brought up the possibility of deception first.”

“Very well,” she said, mollified, “my blade is yours.”

“I’m glad to have it,” I said, holding out a hand for her to shake almost on reflex.

I was about to awkwardly withdraw my hand when Dame Deirdre smiled and a notification popped up in the corner of my vision.

Your spell resistance has deflected a spell. 

“Wait a second,” I said, “are you trying to cast a spell on me?”

She is not casting a spell, rather she is using an innate magical ability like our charm or darkness abilities. (Spellcraft 18+8=26)

“Of course, milord.” She answered playfully, “do stop resisting, it shall do you no harm.”

A spell has successfully pierced your spell resistance. 

You have failed a fortitude save (1+1=2 Critical failure. The spell’s effects shall last twice as long.)

As I opened my mouth to demand that she stop, Dame Dierdre began to grow before my eyes until she was as tall as Rosie, though much slimmer. I turned to compare, and found myself looking at Rosie’s chin. I craned my head up to meet her gaze, and saw that she was a few inches taller than me. Rowe and Conchobar, too, had shot up to normal human heights.

They didn’t grow, ya numbskull. You shrank. The rest of the room grew too; there’s no way Dierdre made the whole world bigger. Read the damn text, don’t let yourself get distracted. 

Your size has been reduced to Small. 

-2 strength

+2 Dexterity 

+1 AC

“Hah!” Rosie barked out a laugh. “You look like a deep gnome, now that you’re a proper size. Prettier than most I’ve seen, though.”

“It’s a good look.” Conchobar noted, “I don’t think Syl or Sandara would appreciate it, but I don’t know what they’re into.”

Rowe cocked her head at me, scratching at her cheek thoughtfully.

“Too skinny.” She decided. “Very skinny, even when not longshanks.”

“Milord, you wished to seal our pact with a clasping of hands, did you not?” Dame Dierdre asked innocently. “I quite agree that it would have been comical at our prior sizes, but we can proceed with more dignity now.”

Dierdre was still much shorter than me, but in the same way Rosie was usually shorter than me. I shook her hand with a smile, and found that she had a strong grip. She nodded, then took a step back and lifted her thimble.

“To our alliance.” She said, before drinking the last few drops.

We thought better of any more music after lights out. It would have been fun, but people were trying to sleep. I stayed miniaturized for about fifteen minutes, then popped back to my normal size no worse for wear. I didn’t have five spell slots to use on Keep Watch for everyone after summoning, so Rosie, Conchobar, and Rowe excused themselves to go to bed.

Once I was alone with Dame Dierdre, I got to work using her fairy lights to read. They were similar to my dancing lights, but she could summon them whenever she wanted instead of once daily. I intended to make another excursion to Plugg’s cabin the next day to finish a quest, so I wanted to finish all my bookkeeping before the day even started. While I worked, I filled Dierdre in a bit more on my situation.

I left out my real past; I still felt it was more likely than not that I’d be marked as a madman if I told everyone I was an accountant from another world. People were already shooting weird looks at me for spacing out all the time. Everything since I got on the ship was fair game, though.

“Why do you refrain from challenging this tyrant openly?” She demanded. “He could not possibly be so mighty as to be untouchable. Surely one so loathsome as you have described has few true friends.”

“A lot of reasons.” I admitted, “I don’t really want to kill anyone, you know? I only plan on taking Plugg and Scourge down because they keep escalating. It’d be hard to convince everyone else of that, especially if I look like the aggressor.”

“Surely they would respect strength.” She grumbled, “his father clapped you in chains. Surely that is all the justification you need.”

“For Syl? Yeah.” I agreed, “For lifers like Sandara, who actually take the pirate code seriously? No. I’d be breaking the rules, and at least burning those bridges.”

“I think he sounds like he deserves a spot of humility.” She muttered darkly.

It was around then that I heard a click from the door, and everything went to shit.

Battle has begun. 

You have succeeded your perception check (16+3=19)

I whipped my head around, and saw the door beginning to open. I didn’t know exactly what I was up against, but if autopilot considered it to be combat I wanted something blocking the path to me. Hoping for a calm guardian instead of a vicious attacker, I called a small pony from the plains of Elysium. The snowy white and powder blue horse looked like something from a Lisa Frank notebook, but it was nonetheless the largest wall of flesh I could call upon with summon monster 1.

No sooner had I completed my spell than a fiendish lion, its eyes burning with otherworldly rage and its fur an ashen grey color, shouldered the slightly ajar door out of the way and leapt towards me. The pony, bless it, intercepted the shockingly placed big cat and instantly disintegrated into golden glitter as its throat was ripped out.

I scrambled to retrieve a spear from one of the weapon stands. I didn’t know much about how to use one, but after blessing Dierdre and myself with keep watch I only had one summon left for the day. Any little thing might help, and autopilot could use most of our non-spell abilities without my hands.

The lion was bunching up its haunches, preparing to launch itself at me, when my final pony appeared right in front of it. A brisk hoof to the face did minimal (2) damage, but made significant headway in distracting my feline assailant. 

The lion, robbed of its momentum, was forced to wrestle with the uncooperative pony. It’s claws left great bleeding gashes in the pristine beast’s hide (6 damage), but by Besmara’s tits the pony held the line. I desperately didn’t want to close into melee with this beast, as 6 damage would be near enough to send me to a farm upstate all on its own. Dierdre swooped in with a shrill warcry and drove her needle deep into the lion’s shoulder, but the beast barely seemed to notice.

I frantically jabbed my spear at the lion, hoping to weaken it before it finished off the pony, hardly even noticing as autopilot flooded the room with darkness and wreathed the lion in flickering fairy fire for Dierdre’s sake. My form was abysmal; the sharp tip mostly glanced off of the lion’s hide, leaving ugly but shallow wounds.

The pony, to my shock, mustered incredible strength of Will to fight off the lion. As a celestial being, it could channel the upper planes to smite evil. Our assailant was laced with darkness, making it a perfect target. As the lion attempted to pull the small horse down and flay its hide, the pony reared up and kicked it twice for ten total damage. The spur of the moment decision to call a celestial may have saved my life. By the time the lion was able to drag the valiant pony down and end it’s time on this plane, the lion was badly battered as well. A half dozen large shallow cuts from me and small but deep punctures from Dierdre slowed it down, and it’s nose had been shattered by a celestial hoof.

In a panic I dropped the spear and threw myself to the side to dodge it’s lunge, knowing only too well how quickly that thing could end me if I let it. Thankfully, I heard a crunch as Dame Dierdre embedded her blade in the base of the lion’s skull. The lion disintegrated into a foul smelling ash, which evaporated from the floor just as quickly as the celestial glitter.

“What the fuck was that?“ I demanded with an explosive release of breath.

I believe it may have been an avatar of a bound spirit, employed by Mister Plugg. Several of the spirits discussed in his book have the capacity to create such a thing, and it seemed stronger and more autonomous than a typical summoned beast. On a positive note, it is unlikely he can summon another until midnight tomorrow. (Spellcraft 19+8=27) 

Not a fan of me banging your kid sister, eh? Either that or you’re weirdly desperate. 

“Fuck.” I muttered, moments later, when Dierdre confirmed that the door to my room had been torn open. “If I’d been alone and sleeping….”

I gathered up my valuables, especially the magic mirror, into a bag and scurried to the mens’ common room. I believed that Owlbear, Cog, and Conchobar would have my back if something else was lurking in the darkness, and sneaking into the girls room might backfire spectacularly.

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