Chapter 6: On Rum (Or Why a Pyromancer Should Never Drink)

"Come on, Arrien, just a sip!" one of the crewmen cried out in the background, "prove to us that not all of you mages are teatotallers!" Arrien was sitting in the ill-lit mess hall, and everyone, having finished their meals, had decided it was time to induct the young mage into their brotherhood. She'd proven herself as a swordswoman, not exactly matching the skill of them, but being innovative enough with the use of her magic in her duels to earn respect, and in some cases, fear. There were a good number around the table tonight who bore a scar or two from Arrien's past month of sword training. She was nearly unrecognizable now as the frail girl who had been heaving on the deck nearly two months ago. Her skin was a small shade darker, though her freckles had become far more pronounced from the sun, and she kept her curls, which now extended to her lower back when wet, in a loose bun so as not to obscure her vision (or potentially catch on fire) in combat.

She stared at the mug before her, then back up at the dozen or so cheering men. Arrien was sure that more than a few of the leches were hoping her sense of judgement would vanish with drink. She, of course, wasn't entirely certain that wasn't true, but at the moment, the temptation that was rum won. She downed the mug in its entirety, tears welling in her eyes as it slid quickly down her throat. The mage finished it off and slammed the mug back down on the table, coughing a bit.

"Well... that was powerful," she said, wiping tears away from her eyes as the burning sensation filled her. However, she noted, the flavor that came across after the burning ceased was very pleasant. She smile, banging the mug on the table, "More!" The table erupted into cheers.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So... you see..." Arrien gesticulated wildly with each word, two hours worth of drink working at her system, "the... the fabric of the universe... gets... gets allllll... twisted-like... and..." She blinked, noting that the very blurry man in front of her was snoring. She proceeded to check his mug to see if he had any remaining rum, which, much to her disappointment, he did not. She felt someone's hand on her shoulder and she leapt to her feet, a rather lazy looking fireball appearing forth and hovering over her palm, "Touch me again.. and we'll just see how hot your pants get," she giggled, swaying from side to side to keep balance.

"Aw, c'mon, girlie... just a li'l kiss," the man was obviously more drunk than Arrien. She started giggling again, using her free hand to stroke at the man's scraggly beard. A bit of her senses came back to her, just enough to see that this was not one of the particularly more attractive, or charming, crewmen.

"Well... as you can see," she murmured, leaning in close, "that is.. as I can see..." she giggled again, the man making what passed for a seductive look back at her, "you are remarkably hot for me... one might even say... on fire." At this comment, he looked down and noticed that, indeed, his pants were quite ablaze. Arrien pushed him away, cackling madly as he went rushing off, the sound, much to her satisfaction, ending in him plummeting into the drink. She staggered her way out onto the deck, her hair quite disheveled. She made her way over to the mages' cabin and flung the door open, awakening everyone inside. The red-haired mage was largely ignored by all but Giles, who apparently had been waiting up for her.

"What happened to you?" He asked, rushing over to help her walk to her bed.

"Rum," she giggled, "but... but don't worry about me... worry about Ol' Killan... he took a little jump into the drink," she laughed uproariously, causing the other two mages to bury their heads under their pillows. Arrien motioned for Giles to come closer, the look on her face saying that she had something absolutely scandalous to tell him, "I set his pants on fire," she grinned, falling back onto the cot.

"Literally?" Giles allowed himself a guilty grin. Killan had been trying to get Arrien's attention, for the most impure of reasons, Giles was certain, and was quite amused that his red-haired compatriot had finally given the old pervert his come-uppance.

"Flame on," Arrien murmured, causing a burst of fire to appear over her head, "flame off," it vanished again and she clapped like a child who had just been given the most entertaining toy, "Wait, wait... Giles... watch this. I've been working some of Eleanor's, the great bore," her voice elevated, directed at the arcanist, who was trying desperately to sleep, "prestidigitation and illusion tricks into my fire magic... watchwatchwatch!" She hopped up on bed and held out her hand, a small orb of fire appearing above it, wavering slightly, mostly due to Arrien's inability to fully concentrate. The fire slowly turned itself into a vaguely humanoid shape and began to dance about on Arrien's palm. She blew on it, and it vanished.

"That's very impressive," Giles stated, stroking his chin, "not particularly practical, but impressive."

"Oh, does everything have to be practical? I just want to have fun sometimes! All you blasted mages except Selessa... oh, even her... freedom to you means more time to study books and scrolls!" She collapsed back into bed again, "Mmmmm... I want to have fun."

"Magic isn't a toy," Giles scolded.

"Nooo... but the fire I make with it can be. I have no illusions that I can just do my whim with my magic, but just let me have this without scolding me." Giles just shook his head at Arrien, ruffling her hair.

"Try to get some rest... your brain will be screaming at you in the morning."