Sarenith 29

I floated in darkness that was not darkness, with silence that was not silence, feeling nothing. The lack of salt on my lips was almost as stark as my lack of lips. I wanted to use my time unconscious productively, running through my menu and further studying the reference document, but the void was too unsettling.

After an eternity I couldn’t measure with a heartbeat I didn’t have, I’d have happily bitten my lip until it bled just to feel something. Almost as bad as the lack of sensation was the dreadful certainty that I was being watched. Thousands of eyes that were not eyes focused on a part of me more intimate than any physical shell, waiting for me to lose my connection to my body forever. To become like them. I mentally accepted the invitation to skip forward to consciousness, my only regret being that I didn’t do it sooner.

That short period of sensory deprivation was a backhanded blessing, as it helped me appreciate the throbbing pain in my back. I wasn’t about to become a masochist, but the aches which shot through my body grounded me while I read my text updates.

3 nonlethal damage healed through rest

3 nonlethal damage healed through rest

3 nonlethal damage healed through rest

3 nonlethal damage healed through rest

You are 4 hours into a long rest. Activity of any kind will end the rest. 

Alright. Time to roll over and go back to sleep. I doubt they’ll heal me, and I don’t really care if they think I’m weak. I need healing from rest, and I need my spells back. 

That was easier said than done. An unknown companion made himself known with the stench of his bare feet, sometimes inches from my face. The swaying of the ship, which I’d gotten used to over the last few weeks, felt more extreme.

I’m almost certainly in the crows nest. It’s at least several dozen feet above the deck, so I guess any little shift at the base swings me around like I’m a toy at the end of a stick. 

I cracked my eyes a few times, but from my vantage point on the floor I couldn’t identify the man. It wasn’t anyone I knew particularly well, so I didn’t care to speak to them anyway. I sensed that Dierdre was still around, and my party members were all at full health. On a positive note, I saw that Rowe was listed as a valid person to recruit; apparently seeing me abused for a bullshit reason got her on my side.

I tried to demote Caulky to a follower, hopefully stripping her of her enhanced strength and speed. Unfortunately, our relationship had deteriorated to the point that my options were to remove her from my party entirely or keep her on as a full member. I gave up on her; she was cute and she seemed to mean well for a pirate, but she was probably never going to choose me over her adoptive family. I ejected Caulky from the party and promoted Rowe in her place. With that done, I checked on the goblin’s character sheet while Autopilot did his best to doze.

Rowe was, of course, drastically tougher than I was: almost double my hit points, in fact. Her Apprentice Tinker class was heavily invested in the tech, trap, and alchemy spheres, which meant that almost all of her resources went into making cobbled together items that would fall apart without maintenance. Without her toys, she’d probably be very unimpressive in a fight. With her toys, she could clear a room with damage spread across a wide area.

Alright, so what can she make? Crossbows, mini ballista, pistols, muskets, shotguns, revolvers, ammo… A seeker missile launcher? Napalm? Oh gods this girl is going to burn down the ship…

On a more fully positive note, she had several craft skills maxed out. Alchemy overlapped with Syl, but ships, mechanical, and traps all had potential uses, ship repair and maintenance foremost among them. She also had a goblin perk called Junk Tinker, which eliminated the penalty one normally faced for having inadequate tools.

Great. If she literally burns a ship to the ground I can place her next to a pile of logs and she can make a whole damn ship from scratch. Of course it would take her two weeks to make a small rowboat, but that’s still pretty damn impressive given that it looks like she could do it with her bare hands. 

Cog, swapped in to replace Owlbear, seemed straightforward at first glance. He was tougher than me, but that hardly counted as noteworthy. He seemed set up to be a brawler, with most of his abilities revolving around getting attacked. If someone took a swing at him and missed, he could strike back at them without using his action. If they hit him, a substantial chunk of damage was converted to nonlethal, which was easier to heal and dramatically less likely to kill him. To top it off, he had talents that let him use his strength for AC and boosted his AC when unarmored; he wasn’t quite as hard to hit as Caulky, but he was close.

Hello there, you’re my tank now. Not as good at restraining someone as Owlbear, but he’s actually willing to fight. 

The most unusual thing on his sheet was a feat called “Deific Obedience,” which I’d seen before on Sandara. I didn’t actually know what the feat did, as the description was vague. It was a feat that allowed an individual to perform a minor ritual every day and gain blessings from their deity in return.

The feat’s description didn’t tell me much about the ritual or boon, as each deity had their own. I could guess what Cog’s ritual was, as I’d seen him do it most evenings, and I’d occasionally seen Sandara toss a coin into the ocean. As far as I could tell, Pharasma was giving Cog a +2 bonus to hit with daggers. The fairly substantial boost to accuracy had to be coming from somewhere, and I didn’t see anything else that could explain it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take all that long to read a few character sheets and glance over the mostly hidden descriptions of the gods. I felt strangely awake, and worried that asserting control of my body would end my desperately needed rest. I didn’t know if drow could dream, but if they did I wasn’t invited to the party. I went over my logs for anything that might be useful.

So every single lash that actually hit me did 2 or 4 nonlethal damage; hopefully 4 is maximum damage. I can take nonlethal damage equal to my current health, 12 at the most and 2 right now, before I pass out and it starts rolling over into lethal damage. I have a grace area of negative hp equal to my constitution score before I actually die. That means I can survive 34 nonlethal damage at my best and 14 right now. 

Every time Scourge goes medieval on my ass, there’s a small chance that he will make Autopilot proud and do four damage ten times in a row. That would kill me even at my best if Plugg didn’t let someone step in. He probably wouldn’t. On the other end of the spectrum, Scourge would need to miss me at least 4 times and do minimum damage on every hit to avoid killing me right now. Taking it on the chin for two days isn’t necessarily a death sentence if I can get healing, but it’s almost certain to be my end without it. 

I occupied my time scrolling through magic items for weapon enchantments I might be able to use in the future, using bookmarks to mark spells with their associated weapon and armor enhancements. It was tedious busywork, but I’d be glad I did it whenever I had enough gold and levels to start producing custom magic items.

Summon Monster: Bane, Defiant, Patriotic, Treasonous (partial), Miserable

Color Spray: Dazzling Radiance

Most of what I had didn’t seem particularly great, or at least not universally so. Dazzling Radiance enhanced a feat that no one in my party had. Patriotic weapons were strongly aligned with one nationality or another, and applied a debuff to people who weren’t of that nationality when used by someone who was. A pro-Rahadoum dagger for Syl might be worth investing in, but I wasn’t enthusiastic about making a weapon that only worked against people self aware enough to identify with a nation. Treasonous was right out, as a more expensive upgrade to patriotic that made it very, very good at killing people from the nationality it’s attuned to.

Bane and defiant were slightly more palatable. They let me choose a broad category of creature, like fey, animal, elf, dragon, or evil outsider, for the weapon to specialize in. Bane weapons gained an extra +2 to attack and damage against their specialized targets, with an extra 2d6 damage per attack tacked on as well. Defiant was the defensive equivalent, with +2 to AC and a flat -2 to all damage taken from the target type of enemy.

Maybe I could specialize in tomb raiding or something? Bane undead and undead defiant weapons and armor would let a team plow through a zombie horde pretty well, and tombs always have a ton of cool shit in them. Huge investment, though. 

••••••••••

Two hours later, I recieved an update informing me that 6 hours was sufficient for a long rest thanks to Body Control Sphere. I sat up and attempted to stretch, only to discover that the morning after an excessive workout had absolutely nothing on the morning after a thorough beating. Every movement shifted the muscles in my back, which fired off every nerve in my body. Combined with my terrible sleeping posture, my lack of dinner, and the fact that I was in a barrel that shifted more than I’d like, and I felt like absolute shit.

I almost regretted standing up, but I’d been so damn bored I couldn’t resist. I’d gotten my spells and 3 precious hit points back from the sleep, bringing me up to 5. I could survive 19 nonlethal damage; still not enough. I needed to get the hell out of there.

I staggered to my feet, slumping hard against the edge of the crow’s nest with theatrical weakness. 

“Easy there, mate.” The night watchman steadied me, “Scourge really battered you, didn’t he? I don’t think the bosun is supposed to put that much strength into it.”

“My mother whipped me harder than that for failing to do my sums properly.” I said. 

Though this statement was perfectly true, as evidenced by a tracery of pale grey scars on my back, I made it seem a hollow boast. I collapsed onto the floor, giving no indication I would be capable of standing again. (Bluff 9+15=24). 

“Best to stay down, mate.” the watchman suggested with a chuckle, “you’ll need your strength.”

I stayed down for the last few hours of night, occasionally “struggling” to my feet to glance around. I didn’t have any physical status effects, so even if I didn’t want to move, Autopilot was working at full capacity. During shift change, they left me alone for a short period. As far as they were concerned, I was essentially immobilized with pain and thus unlikely to climb down.

So, when do I get the hell out of here? I can’t use stealth while I’m being observed, so it needs to be at a point where there isn’t a lookout in here with me. If anyone is looking up when I hop out, they will definitely see the obsidian girly boy climbing down the rigging no matter what my stealth roll says. 

The noon shift change, when the morning shift moves to work inside, might be best. My eyes will be burning up, but nobody looks straight up into the sky at noon. Of course, if that doesn’t work out I’d be utterly fucked. 

I looked down at the ship, considering my odds and plotting out acceptable hiding places. The morning shift came, and I was ordered to keep watch until someone else came up. My eyes watered as I looked out at the sunrise without the benefit of my glasses.

“Milord, are you well?” A conspiratorial whisper came from behind me.

I turned slowly, away from the light, and saw Dame Dierdre at my feet, passing up a broken bit of ship’s biscuit. I popped the whole thing into my cheek, relaxed against the edge of the barrel and looked away from her before answering.

“Well enough.” I answered quietly, “At least I got some sleep. How are things below?”

“Your comrades are preparing to strike,” she told me, “Your white eyed mistress and the servant of death are urging caution, while the priestess of Besmara wishes to act swiftly and decisively. The large man has offered to take the lashings in your stead, but for some reason the rest believe that will not be allowed.”

She seemed baffled at the thought that Owlbear couldn’t take my lumps for me. Maybe it was a fey thing. It was a shame; that would have been just about perfect. Owlbear could almost certainly take a hit better than I could, I’d have another day to plan and set up, and he’d have an excuse to stay out of the fighting.

“Got it. I need to get out of here before this evening.” I told her, glancing down at the men starting to climb up into the rigging. “I’m almost certain they’ll try to kill me. Can you bring me a few things covertly before the next shift change?”

••••••••••

The paste, made of crushed rice and water, was not particularly effective as far as foundation goes. Flour would have been better, but the ship didn’t keep much on board. My hands and face were slightly lightened, but the disguise would not hold up to even a cursory inspection. I worried that I’d only wasted a few precious moments. (Disguise 7+9-10(speed) -2 (no disguise kit) +2 size change= 6)

While I applied the paste, Dierdre shank my body. With a lighter frame, my steps would be more silent and it would be far easier to hide in small spaces. I’d been hoping to disguise myself as a bleached gnome; no luck there. It was all pointless. I wasn’t making it out unseen. I vaulted over the side of the crow’s nest and caught a rope a few feet down, the rough rope biting into my hands. (Shadow boxing: Acrobatics/Dance to safely jump down 10 feet: 4+10=14 Fail)

(You have taken 2 nonlethal damage) 

Oh shit. Oh gods. Oh hell. 

Autopilot had abruptly committed me entirely to an insane descent to the deck, but I had no illusions about my ability to handle the situation if I wrenched control away._ _I watched in horror as I swung from the rope, arresting my momentum for only a moment before latching onto another rope. It wrenched my arm badly, and stars burst across my vision. (4 nonlethal damage, 2 converted to lethal.) Between the hateful sunlight and the burst of pain, I missed the next rope. The ship’s deck flew up to meet me. (You have taken 10 lethal falling damage)

Wait a second. I have feather fall. Goddamn it, why didn’t you use feather fall! I get that you can’t cast limited use spells without my say-so, but that one should be pretty obvious! Especially when you change the plan from climbing down to throwing yourself like a lunatic!

Sandara has channeled positive energy.

You have been healed for 6 damage.

Sandara has channeled positive energy.

You have been healed for 8 damage. 

I woke, moments later, with 6 hit points and a pounding headache. I had been seen falling, and it seemed that I’d started a scuffle by doing so.

“He fell fifty damn feet. It’s a miracle he survived at all.” Sandara spat as a pair of burly sailors took her by the arms.

“That was not your choice to make, Miss Quinn.” Plugg responded primly. “I’m afraid your interference in Mister M’Dair’s punishment can not be tolerated.”

“Oh fuck off.” Sandara said, glaring at him, “we all know you wouldn’t mourn for five seconds if he died. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Just calm down, Captain, Sandara.” Caulky said nervously, stepping between the two. “We’re just trying to find out what happened. You did a lot more than necessary to wake him up, so your grog ration is stopped for a week. Stop trying to draw your sword or it’ll be a lot worse.”

Still dazed, I was hauled to my feet by Fipps Chumlett, a heavyset bald man much stronger than he looked.

“I assure you Miss Quinn, that I would not execute a man lightly.” Plugg said with a bored voice, turning to assess me. “Of course, an attempted escape is quite a serious charge. Even more so when one disrupts the rigging as he has. Death is increasingly appearing to be my only valid recourse.”

As if that wasn’t what you wanted anyway.

(Sense motive 4+2=6. No further information available)

“May I ask why?” I asked, slurring my words slightly. “I just fell.”

“What’s this paste, then?” Fipps asked gruffly, “seems like you were trying to cover up that pretty grey skin of yours.”

“Not to mention the timing,” Caulky pointed out, crossing her arms and glaring at me. “It was the middle of the shift change.”

“And you are, of course, a known liar.” Plugg added with a sneer. “Do you really expect anyone to simply take your word on such a thing?”

“Well, I suppose the situation does seem slightly suspicious.” I admitted, squeezing every ounce of beguiling magic I could out of my kidneys. “You see, this paste is intended to protect my skin from burning. I asked my atomie companion to bring it to me, since I was not technically forbidden anything but food and water. I was hoping to have it applied before the Aretta could take her post and potentially interfere. In my haste, while I was applying it to my feet, I lost my balance and fell. Quite clumsy of me, really.” 

The men stared at me, dumbfounded. My bluff had been calculated to emphasize my own ineptitude, as those in authority were always quick to assume their lessers to be incompetent. I sweated for a moment before Caulky let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Damn it Emrys.” She groaned, “Just take your lumps and it’ll all be over soon. Stop trying to be clever for two days.” 

A few chuckles rose from the crew as they returned to their work. The majority of them were perfectly happy to dismiss me as an amusing incompetent. They would regret that when I had the upper hand. 

Of everyone on the deck, only Plugg and Sandara seemed to see right through me. Sandara’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she smiled, and Plugg’s mouth was set in a firm line. He was too weak to simply strike me down without the support of Mistress Tarroon, so I had once again outmaneuvered him.

Opposed bluff: 3+15=18

Caulky Sense Motive, 3+2=5

Sandara Sense Motive 20+9=29 critical success. You have gained 1 point of influence with Sandara for audacity.

“Perhaps, Mister M’Dair, we are simply incompatible.” Plugg said, his cold eyes boring into me. “Captain Harrigan seems to like you, so he may keep you. I, for my part, intend to stow you somewhere for safe keeping after your punishment is complete. Mister Chumlett, Miss Bansion, escort this man to the crows nest and ensure that he stays there this time.”

Fipps and Aretta, a middle aged blonde woman, climbed alongside me up the rigging. As I ascended the last few feet, Plugg pulled a small brass device from his pocket and consulted it.

“Get the sails back in order.” He commanded, urgency creeping into his voice. “We have a storm coming soon.”

As I settled into the crows nest, I nervously checked my newly updated quest log. Normally it changed at around midnight, but a new icon flashed in the corner of my vision.

Quest update!

Ensure no member of the crew dies during the storm

Reward: 1 exp, Minor Feat

Save Lady Sosima Aulamaxa from Bonewrack Isle: 

Reward: 2 exp, Royal Pardon

(Slot Reserved)

Slot reserved? That’s concerning. Is some other mission waiting in the wings?

As the day continued, it began to drizzle, then rain, then pour. The sky darkened and the crows nest shifted more wildly as the waves began to buck beneath the Man’s Promise. Aretta, acting as lookout, was called down and I was officially given her post. I was even allowed a bit of ship’ biscuit on Caulky’s orders; during a storm, minor punishments are suspended.

It would have been a welcome reprieve, if being tossed about while clinging to a pole could be called a reprieve. I was left to figure out how to strap myself to the side of the nest myself, and Autopilot kept trying to undo the straps I tied myself.

The first knots I tied were abysmal. I was sure I could redo them better. (Profession: Sailor 3+2=5) 

It’ll have to be enough. I’m already swinging around.

The crew scurried around on deck, taking only short rests out of the rain, while I watched them and the horizon nervously. My task, trusted to me because I was already in place and could see in the dark, was to keep an eye out for obstacles before they became a problem. From what I could gather, the ship was trying to ride the wind and waves in some way that would keep the ship upright with as little damage as possible. That would work fine, as long as the path of least resistance didn’t toss us directly into a giant rock.

Dierdre flew up to check on me once, but the gusting wind almost tossed her out to sea. I firmly commanded her to go down below deck and help in any way she could.

“I’ll be fine here.” I insisted, “at least nobody is likely to make the climb up here just to hassle me.”

I watched the world fade from sepia, to greyscale, to an all consuming black as night consumed the ship outside of the lanterns held by sailors and small spheres of light summoned by Dierdre. The ship continued to pitch back and forth beneath my feet as I wondered how I could intervene if anything did happen. I somewhat doubted I’d be lucky enough to get a free mission reward by standing around in the crow’s nest, even if I did prevent some kind of collision. I considered it while Autopilot strained our eyes to find hazards in the night.

Unless someone decides this is a lovely time for murder, someone’s most likely to die by falling off the ship. The only way I’m doing something about that from here, with all this wind, is summoning something that can fly or swim. It would have to be something that can handle wind, too. Dierdre could barely make it up here, and it’s just getting worse. 

I wracked my brain for anything that could manage it, and Autopilot provided a solution almost immediately.

An air elemental. As natives of the plane of air, they are unparalleled flyers with a natural affinity for strong winds. I’m sure we could summon a small one. (Knowledge: Planes 8+2=10 basic success)

Damn it! We were planning on keeping elementals under wraps! Well, maybe it’ll be hard to see in all this wind and rain. It’s going to be made of air, right? Maybe I can still do the Scourge thing. Just later. Who am I kidding, if people see me summoning something that saves their asses it’ll look good for me. 

I saw no dangers through the surging spray. (Secret Perception 2+4=6 fail!)

I mean. That could mean that there really isn’t anything out there. Hopefully. 

The barrier between this world and the Plane of Air was thin, here in the heart of a storm. It was not uncommon for air and lightning elementals to appear through miniscule rifts in places such as these, so drawing one of the simple creatures into the space above me was no difficulty. 

Lightning elementals? I kinda assumed that it was just earth, water, fire, air. 

I anchored it relative to the top of the mast, where a dark cloud seeped out of the air. Many elementals took on the shapes of animals or humanoids for some reason, but this one was a puffy grey cloud shaped like a lopsided mushroom cap. 

“You shall serve me as my agent until the end of the storm,” I commanded over the roaring waves and rushing winds, “ensuring the safety and well-being of the crew, towing them back to the ship should any fall away if I do not have further orders for you!” 

The elemental swirled aggressively, releasing a complex humming noise not unlike a pipe being played, and I realized my mistake. The elemental did not speak Common, nor Undercommon, nor Elven, nor Abyssal, and I did not speak the language of air elementals. I could imprint simple orders upon it through will alone, but those were limited to primal commands. Kill this man. Protect me. Allow no one through this door. I supposed I might command it to pull any living creatures it sees from the water and onto the ship, but that seemed likely to result in a steady stream of fish than anything useful. 

Shit. We kinda want this thing online sooner rather than later. It’ll wait, right?

The elemental was bound to a ten foot sphere floating above the ship, and thankfully blended in among the clouds. I let Autopilot scan the waves as I thought through a solution. I was a bit panicked, so the obvious solution took much longer than it probably should have to occur to me.

••••••••••

Fifteen minutes later, I pointed at the small cat sitting at my feet. It glared up at me, tail lashing with irritation. Wherever it had been before I summoned it, the Silvanshee had preferred it to sitting in ankle deep water. 

“I ask only that you serve as translator between me and this air elemental.” I shouted over the storm, “I would appreciate if you also chose to assist me in the preservation of these men through the storm, of course, but I primarily need this elemental to act on my behalf to rescue any men that fall into the ocean!” 

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with,” the Silvanshee answered in a surprisingly gravely masculine voice. “It will take hours to get my fur back in order.”

The cat turned to the cloud, and released a piping song that caused the air elemental to swirl and bob before responding in the same language. I was quite smug about the solution; Silvanshee were small, benevolent celestial cats that could speak every language. They were the weakest member of the bestial Agathion family, and typically roamed around doing unobtrusive good deeds. The service I was asking for didn’t even require moving, and I didn’t try to force the issue with an opposed charisma roll.

I’ll need to choose a different type of outsider for premeditated murder, but saving lives? Google translate cat is go. I’ll need to establish a rapport with one of these things. Not this one. I don’t think I’m making a good first impression. 

https://imgur.com/a/TvzgNT2

(Charisma 16+4=20 vs Air Elemental Charisma 10+0=10)

The magical field containing the elemental shattered, and it soared out of my sight.

“It will closely shadow the ship and assist anyone who falls off,” the feline celestial reported, “may I leave?”

“At your leisure,” I said, mentally commanding autopilot to give the silvanshee its freedom.

He didn’t vanish immediately, to my mild surprise, instead padding a few steps forward and laying a paw on my bare foot. A pleasant tingle ran up my leg, easing the remaining aches from my undignified fall.

You have been healed with Lay on Hands for 3 hp

“When you can, get some sleep.” The holy kitty commanded, “You look like shit.”

With that, he vanished, melting away into the shadows. I relaxed then, monitoring the horizon as I’d been ordered to. Nothing materialized for quite a while. I would never have expected standing on top of a giant stick in the middle of a storm to be boring, but I didn’t really have anything to do but strain my eyes and crane my neck to look around. My stomach rumbled; punishment or no, nobody was climbing up just to give me dinner.

Hours later, the pre-dawn light outlined an island, dangerously close. In the darkness and the rain, I hadn’t been able to see it with darkvision alone. I called out a warning, and held on as the ship lurched to starboard in order to make a wide circle around the isle. (Perception 6+4=10)

The world stilled around me as I stood up, the telltale sign of a combat encounter beginning. I looked down at the ship with a sinking heart. A dozen many-limbed creatures were crawling up onto the ship, closing in on the exhausted crew while the sea just kept raging.