The Lying Game

[Madeira Dusk]

The ship’s galley was lively that night. A game of dice had been picked up on the long centre table, and as the night wore on the stakes had gotten bigger, and the voices louder. A ring of spectators had converged, drawn by the smell of excitement and the flash of coin. They offered encouragement to the victors and jeered at the losers, and
had even opened bets among themselves on who would win the next round.

The low room pitched slightly as the ship rocked in the costal waters. Lamps squeaked as they swung on the celling, casting a warm glow of yellowish light. The greasy oil smell of them just added to the unpleasant aroma of the convergence of labourers and the vinegary kitchen. Madeira did her best to breath through her mouth as she watched the game from the other side of the room, peering between elbows and judging how the game was going by the tide of the cheers.

"Aye, Browen, that's three weeks of rum rations on the next roll!"

"Raise it to four you cunt and I'll sleep like a drunken babe'"

Rough laughter, and Madeira's eyes followed the passing of copper coins as spectator bets were laid.

"Ha! You sure ya want to raise again? Ya couldn't win against me drunk old mum. Cut ya loses and morn ya rum, lad. It ain't never commin’ back"

"Petch you, roll again!"

"Nah, boy. I'd feel guilty burning ya again. How about you start at the kids table before you play with the men? Oi, Miss Madeira!"

Madeira looked up from her cup of stew to see a dozen hardened sailors looking at her, struggling to mask their shit eating grins. She raised a brow but didn't answer. They didn't call her 'miss' behind her back.

"Come join us fer a friendly game. Ya ever play dice before?"

Everyone knew how to play dice. It was the kind of game one pulled out when they were too drunk to handle the brain power needed for cards. But had she ever played it before?

"No."

"Come, come, we'll show ya the ropes."

Madeira hesitated, sensing danger in the several shit-eating grins turned her way. They saw her as an easy bet, she realized. And on the heel of that realization a thought bloomed, dark and sweet. This was an opportunity to win some respect from these assholes who saw her as prey and cargo. These fools wanted to play a lying game with a Spiritist.


WC: 419

[Madeira Dusk]

“Oh, okay!”

She smiled, sweet and pretty, as if pleased they’d let a little girl like her play. Her acting was thickly applied and a jarring shift of tone, but the didn’t seem to notice anything beyond the greed sparking in their eyes.

“That’s tha spirit! Scooch over here, Miss. Got anythin’ to bet?”

“Oh, I don’t get rum rations, but I keep my gold in my cabin…”

The magic words were uttered, and they parted like the red sea as she crossed the room and into their circle. The older man gave up his spot on the bench and offered it to her with a princely wave and even helped her into it. Though she did note his hand lingered too low on the small of her back.

“That’ll do just fine! Here, take my tin cup and my dice.” the cup was battered and etched with symbols for luck, and the highly polished dice looked to be made of bone or ivory. The man cared about this game. “Tha rules are simple”, he explained. And they were. They boiled down to luck and a lot of bluffing. You wanted to roll higher than your opponent, but you must guess the probability of it. Bets were placed at the start, and you could add to the pot if you thought you had a good roll and wanted to maximize your potential winnings. The gutsier of players could bet high on a bad roll in order sike their opponent out and make them pull out of the game, and rake the winnings in themselves.

As he explained the rules, making them much more complicated than they truly were, she was watching the spectators out of the corner of her eyes. They were taking amongst themselves, eyeing her and the young sailor hungrily, but no bets were paying hands.

“Ok, got it?” the older man slapped her on the shoulder, somehow slipping one finger into the collar of her dress as he did. Her bare skin recoiled from the touch.

“Sure, I think so”, she nodded, her eyebrows contracting in determination. “How much do I bet?”

“Lets start you off low, since you’re new.” he nodded reasonably, and even with her eyes on her dice she could almost feel the looks being exchanged above her. “How about a’ honest twenty gold?”

That was ludicrous from a game that was just ticks ago being played with copper and rum rations. But she agreed, hamming up her act of complete, confused innocence.

WC: 419

[Madeira Dusk]

“Alright! You got what it takes, Browen?”

“Stick it up your arse, Hans.”

“Haha! Roll!”

Both players shook and slapped their cups on the table. Madeira checked under rim behind her hand, blocking the view from the various craning necks. Her lips twisted in a grimace and she sighed mightily. Browen took one look at her defeated expression and jumped at his chance.

“Raise you to twenty five gold!”

“Um, wait, yes?”

She glanced behind her as if for instruction. Hans gave her a big grin and a thumbs up.

“Then you wouldn’t mind going for thirty either?”

She shifted in her seat, checking her dice again as if expecting it to have changed.

“I don’t know… Can I bet something other than gold?”

“Sure, Miss.”

“Can you bet your dice? I’d like my own set.”

“Okay”, he smiled, “Then what do I get?”

“Um, I have this…”

And bringing her hands to her chest, she twisted off her heavy gold and amber ring. The one she once used to store Hurik’s soulmist now sat empty, but it was worth more than forty gold. She let it sit in her palm, where the reddish stone seemed to absorb the yellow light rather than reflect it, and cast it’s own warm glow.

“Alright,” Hans boomed. “Now lift your cups and lets see what ya got!”

Browen lifted his, and his own bone dice gleamed with seven black spots. A three and a five. He leaned disinterestedly with his elbow on the table in what she was sure was a show of bravado for his shipmates. Inside he must be rejoicing for having won an extra thirty gold and a fancy new piece of gold.

Madeira rolled her eyes and snorted through her nose, lifting her cup to reveal the two fives underneath. Ten. A perfect roll.

“Gods above, Browen”, she laughed deep in her throat, her innocent act evaporating. Her next show would be one of bravado as her posture relaxed and her smile curved as sharp as a scimitar. “How the perch did you fall for that?”

There was a moment of complete silence, then a roar of laughter and astonishment as the men realized what had just happened.

WC: 369

[Madeira Dusk]

"She's got some balls on her, this one!"

Madeira breathed a sigh of relief to see their joviality. There was an equal chance they would have taken offence at having been played, yet even Borwen didn't look angry. His face was crumpled into a look of complete, dejected bewilderment.

Taking heart, Madeira decided she was not done proving herself yet. She turned to the man standing uncomfortably close behind her. Hans was short and bullish, with thick arms and shoulders and the beginings of a belly beneath a tight leather singlet. Completely bald, it looked like his thick red hair had fled to his chin in a great tangled beard that was just beginning to show streaks of grey. His heady breath, spiced with rum and lack of hygiene, was ticking the hairs that had escaped her tight chignon.

"How about you?" she kept her low, careless voice. With narrowed eyes that looked him up and down, she licked her teeth and smiled. "You going to take your chances or are you just a showboat too?"

"Haha! Please, girl. You don't know what I'm capable of", he winked in a way that made her think he was trying to make some vulgar suggestion. His merry smile was not the least bit intimidated.

"Fine. Show me", she goaded, aiming for a rise out of the stubborn man instead.

"If that's what the lady wants..." He shrugging his shoulders and splaying his meaty hands as if amused. The crowed seemed to like this plan. Before Hans could even cross to the other side of the table and pull Borwen out of the seat by the scruff of his neck bets were changing hands. Palms slapped down on Hans' back for luck and mouths lowered to his ear to whisper advice as he settled into his seat. And to Madeira's surprise, a few encouraging hands collided with her shoulders too. Most of the bets were against her, but a few were taking the long shot on her.

"So, what are we betting?" her opponent asked almost politely, rattling his dice around the well of his cup.

Madeira scooped up Borwen's cup and dice that were now hers, and examined them for a moment as she thought. It was a bone set with plenty of nicks and dents, paired with a small copper cup gone black at the edges. Finally she raised her head and smiled.

"I'd take your money, but you're such a big player I imagine you've been bleeding these guys dry all voyage. I'd hate to swipe away all your hard work." she opened the negotiation with an example of how generous she was being by not asking for that boon. "So how about I take a little bit of your time instead? Work Allister's night shift tomorrow."

Truly, she wanted nothing from the man. She had enough money, and she would relish the chance to spend a night with her bondmate for once. But more than that, there would be very little humiliation in handing over money. It would happen in the blink of the eye, and those witnessing would be hard pressed to remember the event a week later. But to have him working out on the deck, among his peers, knowing full well that Madeira put him there? That would be a lesson with a sting he'd feel all journey.

[Madeira Dusk]

The man considered her offer and nodded thoughtfully. She had guessed he would not pick up on the underhanded reasons for her wager. What she did not predict was the direction his thoughts actually went.

"I see, I see. Must be pretty lonely all alone at night. You need a beast in your bed. I understand."

Her traitorous body couldn't stop the burn that flushed through her cheeks at his oily, creeping tone. The men around them laughed heartily to see the tightly-laced blonde blush. There was no use in her denying it. Those who didn't hear her reckless tryst with Allister the weeks before were regaled with exaggerated tales of it the next day. The ship was small, the crew starved for sex, and she was the only living female on board. It didn't matter that she was a skinny, pale waif, not exactly pretty and a witch to boot; on this ship her sexuality was suddenly a popular topic of conversation.

She was trying to play the rough, clever character, and that character didn't blush. She wrestled with herself, willing the blood to cool with deep, meditative breathing through her nose. As she was willing herself into a calmer state, Hans took his chance and pounced.

"I'll work his shift, miss Madeira. But what do I get?"

"What do you want?"

She was focusing so hard on mastering herself and playing nonchalant that she didn't register the invitation in her words until they had already left her mouth. Cursing herself internally, she could do nothing but watch the slow grin she wrought spread across his face.

"We'll it's only fair that if you should bet some of my time, I should bet some of yours." his tone was even, almost fatherly. "When I win you can spend tomorrow night in my hammock."

The room roared in a predictable onslaught of drunken laugher and wolf whistling. Madeira's immediate reaction was to tell him he could go petch himself and walking away, but she knew better than to go with her gut reaction. His implication didn't embarrass her as much as his personal comment, so she was able to muscle her body down and keep the pale cheeks she had worked for. Thus composed, her mind was free to probe the situation and see how she could salvage it. To leave now would be disastrous. They would see the topic as a trigger and the harassment she had mostly avoided would only double. But if she were to lose… The thought filled her with revulsion.

But then another thought hit her. He asked her to spend the night, and in his effort to be suggestive had opened herself up to plenty of qualifiers. Sure, she could spend the night. But he didn't say they had to have sex, or that she had to be alone. Would he even be able to get it up if the eternal, sleepless spirit of a snarky badger Kelvic was looming over him, smiling like the ghost of shitheads past? And if he were still determined to try something she could summon Allister with a thought. No, with her boys at her side she had nothing to fear. Besides, she didn't plan on losing.

Getting back into character, Madeira rolled her eyes theatrically. "How ambitious of you. You sure you need all night? From what I hear..." on the table she made a loose fist and mimed a very brief and sloppy attempt at male masturbation. Everyone laughed, but nobody as hard as Borwen, who was in stitches to see his tormentor emasculated.

Again, Madeira thanked the gods she was well received. Truthfully she had no idea what any of them did to themselves at night. It was the simple fact that this was a season long trek and they all slept in one communal hall in hammocks that made her guess that at least someone had caught him masturbating.

Han's composure was slipping, she could see it in the ruddiness of his cheeks behind his beard and the flexing of his hands as he rolled his dice between his fingers. He longed to reach across the table and backhand her, she could see it. But her fare was paying a significant chunk of their wages, and there were plenty of sailors watching who
would not hesitate to rat him out to the captain if he were to get physical with the precious cargo.

But Hans wasn't about to let that barb slide by unchallenged.

“Oh lass, just wait. I’ll break that little ass of yours. Come get a sneak peek and see what I’m working with”, he said cockily, leaning back and inviting her over with a sardonic smile.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I’ll just stay right here if it’s all the same. My tastes run a bit more…” she looked him up and down with eyes that bordered on complete indifference, “…exotic, than what you have to offer.”

Hans bristled not at the refusal, but at the complete lack of respect she had for his advance. What he expected was a cute show of nervousness or a flash of fear to hold over her. He did not expect apathy from the women.

“Oh that’s right. I forget you have your little pet to give you the good stuff. Well when you tire of beastiality remember where the real men are.”

“Oh, no, you don’t understand”, she purred, her eyes darkening. From within herself she ambitiously riled her dijed and pushed it forward into her body. She let the intimidation roll not through her words or mouth but through her body language. It seeped out through her sharp, lazy smile and the tongue that ran over her teeth, hovered like a cloud over the tall posture of her shoulders.

“I gave my first kiss to a Symenestra with lips as smooth as glass over his dangerous, venomous teeth”, she purred. “My virginity was given to a beautiful Dhani with a wild magic in her bones and the desert in her eyes." She kept unflinching eye contact as she spoke, and willed her body to exude the intimidation she did not feel. "And my dangerous Kelvic hyena's hands are softest when they worship me. Now I invite you to consider this, and tell me honestly, how you think expect you real men compare after that.”

WC: 1062

[Madeira Dusk]

Grades Awarded!

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request!

Madeira Craven

Skills

• Subterfuge: 3xp
• Acting: 4xp
• Negotiation: 3xp
• Persuasion: 2xp
• Intimidation: 2xp
• Gambling: 4xp
• Politics: 2xp
• Meditation: 1xp
• Logic: 2xp
• Hypnotism: 1xp

Lores

• Gambling: playing dice
• Negotiation: arranging a bet
• Acting: playing naive
• Politics: winning support
• Acting: bravado
• Intimidation: expounding inferiority
• Persuasion: convincing someone to work against their interests
• Persuasion: pretending to be generous
• Subterfuge: concealing motives
• Politics: smear campaign
• Subterfuge: underhand tactics

Awards & Retribution
+ Secondhand Dice Set: severely beaten set of bone dice and a dented tin cup

Notes