Well at Least I’m a Magic Pirate Now

Sareneth 14, Wealday

After a morning of fevered seafood preparations, I loaded up my box of water bottles and left to make my deliveries. Kroop hadn’t been able to fill me in about Sandara; he didn’t typically keep up with the latest gossip. I poked my head into Grok’s room before I carried my bottles out on deck, hoping that she had more information.

“Hello!” I chimed from the doorway. “Any chance I can grab your ear for a second?”

“Oh?” She glanced at me before returning to a ledger. “If it’s about that package for ya, it’s in the brown bag.” She waved generally at the corner, where an overstuffed brown satchel waited for me.

Huh? What’s that? I put down my box of water bottles and checked the bag. The top few layers were all clothes, including a few skirts. Ah! Syl’s stuff. Thanks Jakes. I was a bit more confused to find the Beguiling Bangles mixed in as well. I gave this to Sandara, so she could pretend to buy it while she was in town.

“Thanks.” I replied, “That’s not what I’m here for, actually, but thanks for letting me know. I was actually hoping you might help me catch up. Sandara’s a friend of mine; do you know what happened?”

Grok stopped writing for a moment. “She jumped a couple of crewmen along with Magpie.” She explained shortly, “Apparently Jakes drew a knife, Sandara didn’t. He cleared off instead of getting keelhauled. She’s paying for it the old fashioned way. Now buzz off, I’m writing up what we spent.”

I stood stunned for a moment as things clicked together in my mind. Jakes sent everything in a satchel because he was leaving, including the necklace that probably would have been nicked off of Sandara. Why the hell were they fighting, though?

I didn’t get any straight answers that day. Scourge was camped out on the foredeck a few feet from Sandara when I did my rounds, so I couldn’t ask her yet. Conchobar could confirm that she’d visited the same bar he had, but didn’t see when she left. He got a letter sent out to his dad, though. That was good.

“You didn’t seem to have much interest in reaching out to your family, so I didn’t think to bring it up.” Conchobar informed me, “but I added notes about Owlbear and Rosie. I don’t know how much effort he’ll put into it, but I asked him to let their folks know.”

“Not Syl?” I asked.

“Hell no.” He exclaimed, “She’s a fugitive from another country. There’s no way in hell Dad’s gonna bother with that. Hell, he’s probably only going to be able to tell the Cusswells because they live in Rumbutter. Everyone knows everyone in Rumbutter.”

“What about Owlbear?”

“It’s a tall order. I’ve only got a nickname and he’s from Port fucking Peril.” Conchobar rolled his eyes. “Too many people in too small a space. He’ll pipe up if he hears about a missing half-ogre, but I know my dad. He’s a musician, not an investigator. He’s not scheduled to be back there for months anyway.”

“Fair enough.” I sighed, “it’s not like he owes them anything.”

“I didn’t really expect you to care so much.” Conchobar admitted. “I only told you in case I was wrong about you wanting a message sent.”

“Eh. Fair. Don’t worry about sending letters home.” I said, dodging the question of my empathy, “I haven’t decided if I’m going back, even if we jump ship. This isn’t much worse than working for the clan. It’s not like I was irreplaceable, but they’ll be pissed that I'm gone. Anyway, I’ve got to get moving and you’ve got to get back to work.”

••••••••••

Before dinner, the whole crew was gathered on deck. Kroop was kept in the kitchen, but I was specifically requested. Sandara was pulled out of the box, stripped to the waist, and tied to the mast. Her respectable chest was pressed against the hard wooden pillar, bent slightly at the waist so her pert ass stuck out. It’d probably be damn hot if someone tried to draw it, but there was nothing sexy about the way she watched Plugg the whole time with cold, silent fury.

Not at the time, anyway. 

https://www.patreon.com/posts/sandaras-lashes-90938834

Most of the officers were off having dinner while Master Scourge and Second Mate Plugg managed punishment. Plugg paced in front of us, marching with military precision as he spoke.

“Miss Quinn has proven exceptionally resilient to conventional methods of discipline due to her abilities as a healer.” He droned, never looking at the assembled crew. “It is unfair for her to avoid the consequences of her actions through the blessings of her goddess. As such, I have received permission from the captain to provide her with a more personalized punishment.”

He turned on his heel, and with a flourish he summoned a ball of flame into the air above his outstretched palm. He flicked his wrist, and it flew towards Sandara’s exposed back. I winced as I heard the sizzle of burning meat and a quiet grunt.

(Sandara has taken 5 fire damage)

“Now, heal yourself.” Plugg commanded. “You must learn somehow, and we shall continue until you have received an appropriate number of lashes.”

Sandara stayed silent, but everyone present felt two pulses of tingling energy wash over us as her burns rapidly faded away, indiscriminately healing anyone with any lingering injuries.

(Sandara has healed 1 hp. Owlbear has healed 1 hp. Syl has healed 1 hp)

(Sandara has healed 4 hp. Owlbear has healed 6 hp.)

Sandara glared daggers at Plugg as she was repeatedly burnt and ordered to heal herself. Whatever Plugg’s intentions, he sure as hell wasn’t teaching her anything but to hate him personally. The rest of the crew’s stunned silence didn’t seem promising for crew morale either. Sandara was not just a person who could heal; she was a priestess in the informal state religion of the Shackles. This kind of treatment was unheard of. (Sense motive 16+1=17, Knowledge (Religion) 19+2=21)

She silently stared him down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of expressing pain. She grit her teeth and took each burning lash silently before releasing another pulse of life. She managed to heal herself 9 times before she was unable to wipe away the crispy, oozing wound on her back. I checked her character sheet to see if there was some trick, but she was genuinely out of magic.

“Good,” Plugg nodded. “That will be enough for you to think about tonight. You were initially assigned twenty lashes, yes? If you can endure eleven tomorrow, perhaps you can be allowed to resume your duties.” He turned to face the stony faced crew as Sandara was covered in a white cloth and escorted back to the box. “There will be discipline on this ship. None will evade punishment. Now, you are dismissed.”

As we filed out, I felt his eyes tracking me. Shit. Jakes didn’t just get into a fight with some drunks, did he?

••••••••••

“Bring down a curse on our heads, he will.”

“Besmara doesn’t support mutiny. Nothing’s gonna come of it.”

“Burning someone extra because they are favored by the gods? Who does that?”

After a spectacle like that, it was reasonable for dinner conversation to be a bit one note. While I passed out soup and crackers, I listened to the chatter among the crew. Other than one kinky fellow, they were all disturbed by Plugg’s new disciplinary initiative. The batch of newbies shanghaied from port while I was lobstering were particularly terrified of what they’d been dragged into.

By the gods I hope this doesn’t explode while I’m still here. I’d rather just pull a Jakes and fuck off if this is going to turn bloody. How many missions do I need to do before I’m allowed to jump ship? I have a backup career as a coffee machine lined up. I don’t need to put up with this! 

Rosie was speaking to the newbies quietly, and from what little I heard she was explaining how things normally ran on the ship. It’s a bit odd for someone who’s been here for only a week to be giving the tutorial, but I guess no one else is going to. Closest thing we got to a proper introduction was Sandara, and she’s unavailable. 

Conchobar tried to break the tension with a song, but one guy on the flute wasn’t going to get much attention unless people piped down. It seemed like it would be a good idea to break the tension, so I listened to the little bard’s music. I didn’t know the song he was playing, but I figured I could just- keep my damn mouth shut until he started playing a song I knew. (Performance: Sing 3+8=11) Thankfully, I knew the next song in his set, and stepped in to back him up.

“There once was a ship that put to sea

The name of the Ship was the Billy O’ Tea”

How the hell did the exact same song show up in both worlds? Is whaling common in the Shackles? What is a Wellerman anyway, and why is it a universal constant?

My voice rang out over the crew’s muttering, interrupting their chatter and drawing every eye in the room. Not every look pointed my way was friendly, but I ignored those I irritated and focused on the upbeat shanty. Conchobar and I weren’t the only ones that wanted to lighten the mood, so when I reached the chorus I was joined by a dozen rough voices. (Group perform check 8+8+2=18. Success) 

My mouth was singing and my body was dancing, but I was just as much a spectator as anyone else. I always did enjoy listening to music while I worked; maybe I should start making singing skill checks more often? That could be nice.I watched the world around me as I performed, noting that Rosie was singing and clapping along. (Rosie influence +1)

The one who really caught my eye was Syl though. She was undressing me with her snowy white eyes. Presumably taking a prompt from my subconscious, Autopilot leaned over and gave her a wink in the middle of the dance. 

Syl’s lips formed into a nearly predatory smirk.

Well, I do owe her after all. I really should start working off some of that debt tonight.