Beware the Blood Red Rose's Thorn [Miri]

Miri stopped with Kroop, looking at him. For once she didn’t joke or tease; it was clear that her instinct had been right, that he did have something to say, and Miri meant to hear it.

The very moment he began to speak they were interrupted by a tall green-gray half orc who looked like death had found her too tough to chew and spat her back out. This, Miri felt, had to be Grok. Despite knowing she was one of those in charge of recruiting, Miri couldn’t help liking her just a little, returning her nod.

Fishguts urged her to drink the rum. Miri raised an eyebrow, slowly, shifting the mugs. Drink the rum and not make a fuss. Abruptly, Miri switched from excitement to unease. What, exactly, was in this drink? Six lashes with the whip if she was caught not drinking once, six lashes with the cat if she were caught a second time. That was a steep punishment, steep enough to leave a little coil of dread in Miri’s stomach.

“I’ll see you down there,” Miri agreed, really wishing that Fishguts hadn’t felt the need to wish her good luck.

Miri handed the crate of mugs to Grok, stepping back into line. She took her portion with the others, glancing down at it. It wasn’t like Miri hadn’t done plenty of substances she’d never heard of before – it had gotten her into trouble more than once. Well, she thought, it was unlikely the rum would kill her; wouldn’t make much sense to risk killing your crew nightly. At worst, she thought, she’d have a bad trip, maybe have a nasty addiction to deal with later. It didn’t occur to Miri that she could end up as badly off as Kroop; it just wasn’t in her to think that way about herself. She’d beat worse – or so she thought.

Miri tipped up the mug and drank.

Con save with disadvantage: yqAFORRj1d20+1 or 1d20+11d20+1·1d20+1

The rum was strong – a burning sensation that lashed down Miri’s throat and filled her belly with a warm, comfortable fire, and dulled the edges of the last day until they felt a little more bearable. It was a familiar sensation and a familiar comfort, that first drink of the night.

Of course, ideally Miri would go on to have several more. For a while she’d been using a bit too much firestarter in the mornings – for the hangover, of course – and then sometimes a second dose in the afternoon – only when the first one wore off and the withdrawal kicked in – and with two doses in a day, sleep was nearly impossible. There were a number of ways to fix that, drowsegrass for an instance, but ale was by far the cheapest, albeit with the unpleasant side effect of needing to start the cycle again the next day. She’d quit when she’d found herself needing the second dose earlier and earlier, and then found herself tempted to add a third dose. Three doses of firestarter in a day was more or less flipping a coin on death. She had quit cold turkey too, vomiting her guts up for the better part of forty eight hours until the last of it was out of her system. After that she’d been fine.

Miri glanced around the deck once the rest of her chores were done, considering her options. The flash of coin coming from one corner of the ship was a bit too much of a temptation, and Miri wandered over, hoping for the chance to gamble.

It looked like there were three main contests: arm wrestling, chucking an iron cannonball down the deck, and a rum ration chugging contest. The spark of adrenaline from placing a bet – win or lose – was nearly as good as that first drink.

Cards. Miri watched Cog and the muscular halfling – Rosie? – sit down to the cards. Coin. She felt a pang of disappointment for a moment, realizing it was unlikely anyone would let her stake air on these games; sailors never did. All the same, she knew right where she’d want to be the moment she had any coin in her pocket. Sure, betting on the pigskin or arm wrestling looked fun – Miri was voting for the barefoot woman – but cards were where Miri shone, even better than dice.

The best part was the combination of luck and skill. Dice were mostly luck. Sure, Miri knew a few tricks; anyone who said you couldn’t angle your throw clearly hadn’t played enough. But in the end the dice would do what they will, short of being weighted. There was a certain satisfaction to it; you rolled and it was out of your hands, up to the fates. Let them decide whether you’d win or lose.

But that wasn’t nearly as good as grasping your destiny firmly in both hands and making it your own. Cards cared about the hand you were dealt, but even more important was your skill and your nerve. Miri was perfectly well aware of the metaphor and embraced it fully.

All the same, it didn’t seem like she’d be able to play tonight. Miri leaned, watching Cog and Rosie, aware as well of the dandified gnome who was also sneaking glances across the deck.

The voice was a surprise, and Miri glanced back over her shoulder, the faintly friendly tone prompting a smile. Now this – this was nice. Long dark, red hair, just enough braids and trinkets to provide a little texture if it were held in one’s hands. A nice hat – very nice. Surely not something they’d let her keep? Miri felt a little hope for her lost bracer – and all her other things – well up in her chest.

And the tattoos – Miri didn’t hesitate to admire them, quite openly. There was plenty else to admire, naturally, but the tattoos were an excellent place to start.

“I bet he does,” Miri raised her eyebrows, giving them a slight wiggle. “Miri, Miri Blackstone.” She grasped Sandara’s hand firmly in her own. “Pleasure to meet you, Sandara.” So, Sandara would have been her colleague up in the rigging. Miri felt a faint pang of disappointment; she was considerably easier on the eyes than Fishguts. She regretted it in the next moment. Rightly or wrongly, she was already feeling a bit fond of the old drunkard.

“Love the tats,” Miri admired them again, smiling. She didn’t have many herself, just the one on the inside of her left wrist, her own special tribute to Selune. Not her tears or the strong beauty of her full moon – Miri didn’t have any interest in those. Rather, she choose to celebrate the goddess’s conquest over being slain by Shar. She didn’t want Selune at her strongest; she worshipped her clawing her way back from the grave, over and over, just after every new moon.

“First day’s a bit long,” Miri grinned. “Taggit gives you one hell of a hangover, and without any of the fun,” there was a faint taste of nutmeg almost lingering in her mouth, like a ghost summoned up by the memory of the night before. Not much else she cared to say about that. “How does it go from here?”

Miri didn’t half-mind the touch of Sandara’s lips on her knuckles, or the invitation to admire her tattoos a little more closely – which she did, quite freely. “Very nice,” Miri repeated. With a little smile, she’d reach out and run a finger along the edge of one of the designs on Sandara’s shoulder, tracing the edge of the map ever so gently.

“Luskan,” Miri’s voice flattened, for just a moment. Luskan meant going past Calimshan, past Murann, past Athkalta – past Waterdeep. If they stopped anywhere along the sword coast, anywhere at all – nothing in the whole of Faerun would be enough to keep her on the ship. Miri swore it to herself, in that moment; she wouldn’t be shipside come Waterdeep. If Scourge was as whip-happy as Sandara said, then – surely they’d stop somewhere along the sword coast.

“And a long haul it will be, sounds like,” Miri agreed, bringing her focus back to Sandara. This woman didn’t deserve anything less than Miri’s absolute full attention, no matter what else was weighing on her.

Miri grinned. “I do, here and there,” she raised an eyebrow, responding to Sandara’s grin with one of her own. Sure, climbing the rigging in her one-shouldered shirt hadn’t been the most pleasant of experiences. Armor wouldn’t’ve helped her there, nor would it help against the lash of a whip – but it might if she ever wanted to use the knife she’d stolen. Still, practical though it wasn’t, what Miri missed most was the bracer that usually rested on her right forearm, covering the scar that curved over it.

Miri wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was her bracer; she knew that bracer better than she knew her own skin, at least some of it. Her gaze lowered to it, then back to Sandara, and she raised an eyebrow, waiting – for the hook, the ask, the favor. A single bracer; it was sentimental, and Miri knew it. Sandara wouldn’t be too far off base to think Miri might be willing to barter for it, not that she had much to offer at the moment.

Grok again; Miri was getting the sense that she needed to get to know the quartermaster a bit better. Not much she could do about the Captain, Scourge or Plugg, but Grok? At least with Fishguts in her corner, she’d have a bit of an advantage.

“Thanks,” Miri didn’t hesitate to take the bracer, strapping it onto her right arm. Her eyes searched Sandara’s face for a moment, still half-expecting – something. Some ask. Well, Miri thought, it would come later, she was sure. And while she was grateful for the bracer, that was all it was – gratitude. Not a debt. “I appreciate it,” she grinned, turning her arm from side to side, admiring the bit of leather. “Funny how naked you feel without something like this,” she lifted her gaze back up to Sandara’s on the word naked, smiling again.

There was a loud burst of noise from the card game, and Miri glanced over, casually. The deck was starting to thin out a little, and Miri understood why; there was a low swirl of tiredness pulsing up through her, the long day plus the rum seeping slowly into her bones and weighing her down. She fought it off a little longer; sleep wouldn’t come easily, not tonight, and there was no worse feeling than lying in bed unable to rest.

There was one question Miri needed to ask. “Does the captain always welcome his new crew,” the word was rank in her mouth, “the same way?” Miri made a gun of her hand and forefinger, pointing it at the deck, and firing it silently. “A little something to show he’s serious?” She couldn’t quite keep the question as casual as she wanted it to be.

Miri grinned. “I can imagine. I’m sure I’ll do my best in a few days time to forget anyone ever dosed me.”

On a professional level, it did sting, honestly. Miri was a bounty hunter; she was supposed to be the one doing the dosing, not the one dosed. Not that she used taggit, personally. Bit expensive; no point in dragging in a bounty if it cost you more than they were worth to catch them.

It did raise a bit of a question – where did the taggit come from? Either they had more money than sense – and why not just hire sailors on, rather than press-ganging them – or else there was a big stash of taggit somewhere around. Now that was an appealing thought; Miri could think of quite a lot of things that could be done with a few drops of oil of taggit. Even if you woke up, and taggit wasn’t usually strong enough to keep you down through a proper beating, you were still slow and sluggish.

“Who’s the most interesting person you’ve met so far?” Miri raised a curious eyebrow. She had thoroughly finished admiring one of Sandara's arms, but - of course - there was the other. She shifted a little, moving to the pirate's other side.

In truth, the ship wasn’t so bad at night. It wasn’t that different up here on the deck than the ships where she’d bought or worked passage. Things got a bit boring, sure, shipside, but sailors were usually fun, and most loved a game of chance nearly as much as she did. The stars overhead weren't bad; they were never this good in the city, and even the countryside paled in comparison to what you saw at sea. The faint but growing ache in Miri's head and the steady, painful throbbing of her over-used arms weren’t unbearable. The constant threat of physical violence? Well, that was life, more often than not. It was only – Evy, and the oppressive weight of being here not by her choice.

But Miri had both hands and her quick tongue, lockpicks in her hair and a dagger at her back, and – now – her leather bracer strapped to her arm. She had Fishguts, she was nearly sure, and, now, maybe, something of Sandara. She would keep going, at least until they reached the Sword Coast. There was no other choice.