Chapter 2.15: The Enochian Tower

“I think it’s an easy choice”, Oslando says. He turns his head from left to right and so on. On his left floats a chainmail, looking almost exactly the same as the one he’s wearing. The only difference is this one is made of dark green metal instead of the usual grey. His current armor is damaged, but its condition is good enough to protect him.
“If you’re fast and efficient, you don’t get hit.” The half-elf says it with a cheeky smile. “No need for an armor if the enemy can’t get to you.”
(Arcana 17)
On his right side, a shortsword levitates. Oslando observes the metal. Something twinkly lies within the layers of steel.
“I recognize the crafting of this sword”, he says and he grabs the hilt, claiming it as his prize. He swings it through the air and feels an icy breeze pass him.
“A couple of months ago, I made a stop in Stonehelm, a small city in the Ironblood Hills. I met a friendly dwarf called Argus, a blacksmith with a fascination for alchemy. He worked metals within special forges. He created all different kinds of fires to enchant the items he crafted.”
He gently slides his index finger across the cutting edges and feels a magical chill run through him. He shivers.
“This shortsword has a permanent cold living inside of it. It was probably forged on a frost giant’s anvil or imbued with some kind of crystal. It won’t freeze an enemy to death when I stab him, but it will surely be more painful than the sting of a regular blade.”
He removes his dagger from his belt and replaces it with his new acquisition. “I am pleased with this reward, but I am still wary. What if this is another kind of trap?”
Mero shakes his head. “No, no trap! Nobody is going to take my hat away.” Bruq and Lyssa laugh at the panicked expression of his mask, accompanied by his clenched hands around the brim of his hat.

“Any idea what you are going to pick?” The satyr jogs her weakly with his elbow, not able to break her concentration, but she is completely occupied with studying a red cylinder. It's about the length and width of her thumb.
“I presume you know what you’re looking at.” Oslando stands beside her as he tries to figure it out what the cylinder is. “Is that why you are ignoring the rapier on the other pedestal?”
(Perception 21)
She nods, not taking her eyes of her piece of the treasure. “Tell me, Oslando, have you ever seen me put ammunition in my gun? I don’t think so, right?”
The half-elf thinks back to the moments he has seen her in combat, shooting away before she starts singing. She’s right. They’ve never seen her do this.
“A while ago, about five months or so, my crew and I were attacked by another pirate captain. He’s the kind of pirate parents use in stories to frighten children. The only difference is this one exists, while most of the boogeymen in stories don’t. His long green hair and aquamarine skin made him almost invisible in the water. He could spy for days without resurfacing for air, without the need for food. That’s how tritons hunt. They are aquatic elves. He could speak with the fish. He always knew where to find me. He hunted me for a while. Does anyone know who I’m talking off? Does anyone know this story”
Lyssa doesn’t look away from the red case, not really expecting someone to know what she’s talking about.
“Well, that be capt’n Valos, the Blue Sea Devil, for sure!” The correct answers makes her turn around with a surprised expression on her face.
“Yes, that’s correct! How do you know of him?”
They look at her with a different kind of surprise: confusion. “We didn’t say anything”, Bruq tells her. The others keep staring at her.
“Well, you could say I had a very close relationship with him”, she hears the voice again, now noticing the sea-worthy accent.

“So, you are - or were - captain Valos?” She stares at the Enochian Crystal she just obtained.
“Yes, the Blue Sea Devil himself, lass, the one and only.”
Bruq sighs. “Again a conversation that I can’t hear? I’m getting tired of these crystals.”
Mero looks up. “You are jealous.” The hunter ignores his correct statement.
“What are you doing in this gem?” Her voice sounds a little off, almost nervous.
“Well, mutineer”, it says with a raw and sassy tone, “after you left me for dead on my ship, I wanted to kill myself… I was in unbearable pain, but my gun was nowhere to be found, because you took it! My crew abandoned me. No friend to save me and no foe to finish me. I prayed to the gods to make it all stop. I asked them to let me die and I did. I woke up like this, trapped in this wretched piece of stone, only able to speak to the one who denied me my watery grave. I don’t know why, but I think it’s cruel. And now we meet again, sea witch, and I don’t know what to think of it.”
She looks up to her new crew, although she wouldn’t call them this out loud. “So”, she starts her story, “basically… uhm… you remember the captain I mentioned?”
Dargothoth raises his eyebrows. “The one you mentioned a minute ago? Yes, we remember.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, this stone holds the soul of that very captain Valos, who I left for dead after his ship met The Shy Maiden in battle. I stole his blunderbuss and the cylinder with the magical gunpowder inside of it.”
She is interrupted by a short guffaw of Bruq, a tear welling up in his eye. “Wait, wait… You called your ship “The Shy Maiden”? Why? Was it in your own image?”
She nods with a frown on her face. “Well, of course! Don’t act all surprised, you.”
The continuous laughter, mixed with bleating as he tries to breathe normally, brings tears to his eyes.
“Shut up, Bruq”, she sighs and continues her story. “To summarize it for you: I defeated him and took all of his possessions, including this gun, and now he’s stuck in the crystal somehow.”
Oslando points to the red case floating above the pedestal. “And now you’re telling us that not refilling ammunition has something to do with that thing. I thought a flask of red wine would appear for you instead of gunpowder. You seem to have a bit of a problem.”
She smiles in a cheeky manner. “I do like me some liquid love, but a good banging is never uncalled for. I mean the banging of the gun, of course.” She winks at the half-elf and grabs the magical tube.
“So, no sword to replace your cutlass?’ Mero looks at her weapon. “It looks like you could use one that’s less worn down or am I wrong?”
She shakes her head as she puts down the newly acquired part of her equipment, not looking up as she pries with her nails at her weapon.
“I’m no woman of swords”, she says, “as you just saw with the copying creature. My close quarter combat consists of kissing and making love. I prefer other penetration than my blunted cutlass can provide me with, but that’s a story for another time.”

“It required a bit of wiggling and pushing, but it fits.” She smiles happily as she presents her gun, but no visible changes can be seen on the outside.
“Maybe you could tell us what you did, because I can’t see the difference.”
Bruq leans forward to see if something has changed. She lowers the blunderbuss, making him realize that he is one mere foot away from where her leather armor creates an obvious and provocative cleavage.
“Wild guess”, he smirks while ogling her, “B size?”
She looks down at him with raised eyebrows and presses the barrel against his hairy chin.
(Intimidation 26)
“C”, she stoically says and pushes him back to her eye level. “You know… C as in “C what my gun will do to you if you do this again. I guess you want the explanation instead of the demonstration, right?”
She doesn’t smile, so Bruq doesn’t really know how to respond. “Oh, I see. Sorry, I guess. I didn’t… You know I was just teasing, right?”
The cold metal is pulled away from his flesh and pointed directly at his face. They look each other straight in the eyes, while Oslando quickly walks up to them to prevent anything from happening.
“I know”, she says seriously. She lowers her gun and winks at him with a pleased smile. The satyr sighs, knowing that if she would have maintained this act two seconds longer, he would have shit himself.