Beware the Blood Red Rose's Thorn [Miri]

Miri watched the chicken in absolute fascination. She could swear the thing had woken Kroop up earlier, and now it seemed to be prompting him to turn around and look at her. Was that… possible? Miri couldn’t say she knew any chickens personally, but she was thoroughly familiar with their reputation as deeply stupid and annoying.

Miri would return the handshake; she’d touched worse.

“A pleasure to meet you, Fishguts,” Miri actually did mean it. Kroop was by far the friendliest person she’d met on this ship so far, and pretty much the only one who seemed to have rated her above a smear on the bottom of their shoe. “And you, Bezebel,” on the off chance that the bird actually knew what was going on, Miri made a flourishing bow to the chicken, sweeping one arm out to the side.

“I’m Miri Blackstone, recently… recruited,” Miri didn’t quite manage not to spit the word out, “to join you here on the Bear’s Throat.” She glanced around the kitchen, down at the stew, then back up at Fishguts. “I’ve – not cooked much, just a bit at a campfire here or there.” Miri paused. “But I do love to eat,” she shrugged, putting her best qualifications forward.

"You said lately," Miri glanced around again. It seemed like a well-stocked larder to her, despite the mess. At some point, someone had cared enough to buy all those spices. "... What happened?" She asked.

Stirring the pot, Miri felt, was something she could do. Organzing? Not her biggest strength, but at least she couldn’t make it worse. Fishing? They were at sea. How hard could it be? Fetching turtles? Now that sounded like fun. It was a little disquieting that none of the duties described involved cleaning or scrubbing. Not that Miri wanted to have to scour clean Fishguts’ pots, with what she guessed was the accumulated residue of many, many stews, but - well - she had to eat out of them too.

So most of the crew was recruited too. Miri made a mental note to try and find out where people stood on the subject of the Captain, as delicately and subtly as possible, of course. She hadn’t really needed to broach the subject with Fishguts; she’d come without a mile of it and he’d promptly swerved right over. She couldn’t count on the same luck with others, especially if they weren’t as drunk as he was.

Miri didn’t flinch or pull away when Fishguts leaned in. His breath reeked of rum, fish and rotten teeth. This - this was up there on the list of worst things she’d ever smelled. But what he said was so interesting that Miri didn’t pull back, not even a fraction. A captain with a reputation for knowing everything that went on on his ship; now wasn’t that a pity.

Mentally, Miri sorted people into buckets. The other six captives? Unwilling joiners, but unwilling to join didn’t mean unwilling to stay. Maybe the human who’d beaten her in the rigging would be a good target for friendship. Captain Harrigan, Plugg, Scourge: they topped Miri’s ‘worst of.’ If ever there came a time when she could so choose, she would have no pity for them, not that faintest scrap. Whatever pressures they were under did nothing to excuse their behavior; a man could cross a point where it mattered no longer and all three, it seemed, were there.

Fishguts went in the ‘best of’ column. Mentally, Miri added Grok to the list as well, with a faint hesitation. Bezebel she kept on the ‘to be confirmed’ list. Helpless chicken or scheming mastermind? Miri would make it her business to know for sure.

“Thank you.” Miri said, soft and a little more heartfelt than she’d intended, when Fishguts patted her on the shoulder. She swallowed, once, fixing her gaze on the stove.

Miri grinned at the warning not to sneak in to Grok’s room. A magic lock that took off fingers? Her fingers itched at the implied challenge. And her things! Just sitting there? Ready for sale? She had no money, but she was willing to guess money wasn’t the only currency aboard. She’d take a look tonight, if she was still standing when evening rolled around. “Understood,” Miri promised, glancing down at herself and grinning again. So obvious, was she? Perhaps it would work in her favor. No one would ask you for favors if they didn’t think you had skills. Even bedding down with the crew would have its advantages, so long as she was careful. Was the shut room in here where Fishguts slept? Miri gave the door the side-eye.

“I won’t pretend it’s not - ah -“ Miri shrugged and didn’t complete the sentence. “But someone for whom fair’s fair? I wouldn’t. What skills I have are for those who think the rules don’t apply to them.” Captain Harrigan, Scourge and Plugg, Miri promised herself. But - what were the other names she had heard ashore, when she’d been listening to Scourge and Plugg in the alley? Patchsalt, Cog - Grok.

Mentally, Miri moved Grok’s name to the to be confirmed column.

“Can you tell me anything about Patchsalt or Cog?” Miri asked. As Fishguts had asked, she would start exploring the kitchen, doing her best to (and failing to) discern any pattern in the chaos.

Miri was well aware that she wasn’t what one might describe as neat, not even close. Still, this kitchen put her to shame. She wondered if even Fishguts knew where to find anything. For a moment, the thought of him just randomly grabbing seasoning from the shelves to chuck in the stew made her pause, but… it smelled like he had at least some idea what he was doing. Miri went back to searching.

Perception check 1: Tv6FCJ0h1d20+2

Perception check 2: 1d20+2

Perception check 3: 1d20+2

“What’s the bloody hour?” Miri asked, picking up a bottle of… something… and hastily setting it back down.

Bald guy with a blue bandana: Cog. Scraps and dark stories. Miri smiled a little. She knew a few of those; a friendship with someone who might be allowed to go landside couldn’t hurt. Even if she couldn’t go with him, maybe a message…? But to who? Where were they even heading? Patchsalt, yellow haired gnome, one to watch out for. Miri shot a glance back over her shoulder at the idea of finding allies, giving Fishguts a little wink.

“Anyone else I should look out for?” Miri asked. “Don’t want to step on any toes, of course.” She grinned.1d20+2·1d20+2·1d20+2

“Does he always tell you in advance? That’s thoughtful,” Miri snorted.

Preparing the rum rations? Miri grinned, suddenly thoroughly grateful that she’d picked the kitchen. What an opportunity!

Miri couldn’t tell what to make of most of the others that Fishguts mentioned. Kipper sounded like someone to avoid. Caulky? Miri’s best guess for translating Fishguts-to-common was that Caulky was hot. Miri would definitely keep an eye out for her.

What Miri had expected to be a kitchen’s knife was actually a very nice looking dagger – masterwork, if Miri wasn’t mistaken. She would turn back towards Fishguts, doing her best to tuck the dagger into the waistband of her leather pants behind her back, where it would be hidden beneath her baggy shirt. It was, Miri decided, worth looking around just a little more.

Perception check 1: sjpp5gRD1d20+2

Perception check 2: 1d20+2

Perception check 3: 1d20+2

Sleight of hand for stealing the dagger: 1d20+51d20+2·1d20+2·1d20+2·1d20+5

Miri was thoroughly pleased with the short sword; she didn’t move it at first, but once she heard the laborious sound of Fishguts’ drunken snores, she busied herself tucking it into a proper hiding place, close at hand to the door out of the kitchen that she would, if she managed herself well, very nearly be able to stick her hand into the kitchen and pull the sword out. The vial she wasn’t able to think of any use for at first, but, then – better safe than sorry.

After that there wasn’t much else to do. Fishguts was sleeping, and honestly Miri felt rather tired as well; it seemed like a year ago that she’d woken up in the hold down below, that she’d reached down to clasp Evy’s hand and pull her to her feet. In the silence of the kitchen, with only the chickens and goats for company, there was no longer any way to put off thinking about it, although Miri tried her best regardless.

The shouting from the top deck was almost a relief. Miri had been sitting on the floor, resting against one of the walls, and scrambled promptly to her feet, a little inelegantly thanks to a poorly timed movement of the ship. “Yessir,” she grinned at Fishguts, winked at Bezebel, and took off, hurrying through the middle deck and up to the main deck.

It was a huge relief to see so many people out and about. For the last few hours, the world had shrank to just Miri, and, well, that wasn’t something she cared for terribly well. Miri took up a spot, glancing sideways at the fat man with the shaved head as he stood next to her, and did her best to look discretely around the crew. Blue bandana – that had to be Cog. Miri guessed the orange haired gnome with one eye might be Patchsalt, but – would Fishguts have mentioned it?

And then, finally, the main event. A keelhauling. Miri glanced down at the man on the deck, then back up at Plugg, a neutral expression on her face. She appreciated Fishguts’ warning about not stealing from the quartermaster all the more; this struck her as a very salutary lesson. Had they waited for the new “recruits” to come on board deliberately before giving out the punishment? Miri was nearly sure they had; it seemed keeping in line with the rest of their management strategy.

Oh well - he had brought it on himself. Nothing worse, Miri thought dispassionately, than a thief who got caught.

A large cauldron of soup was already set out on the prep table, nestled in between the chaos that was the kitchen. What Miri would see first upon reaching the galley though was Kroop carrying a large barrel, and him gesturing to a series of steins and cups in a crate. "Good timing gurlie, grab the cups and come back up to deck." He tone was rather dead sounding, but that very well could be the amount of drink he had - or lackthereof. "The crew has to have their rum ration." It was easily assumed Kroop spent a good portion of his time drunk, and not blacking out today might have been the worse part of it.

"Glad ta see you weren't one o' the ones being lashed taday. Keep ye head down with me, we can see about keeping ye back pretty." He would make quiet conversation as they walked up to the deck. ((Insight check to see if you can sense he wants to say something more or not)).

The sun was decently still in the sky, the starting of early evening having started with Bloody Hour and smoothly transitioning to what Kroop just called rum rations.

((It's short, sorry! The time was spent converting things to 5e and knowing how this scene could end up <3 Once this first day is finalized the updates will be much smoother and quicker as the pattern emerges, I promise))