A Game of Kingmaker

Game Master Wandering Wastrel

Raquel groans. "Oy! For a pun like that, you should be charged with high tree-son!"

"Wood you lot mind hurrying up?" Sasha asks as she returns to Aivar's horse. "We still have a ways to go till Oleg's."

Nariel's buoyant mood gradually morphs into light irritation as her companions launch into another pun battle. Rolling her eyes with a lightly dismissive shake of her head, Nariel mutters as she starts packing up to leave "Not this again."

"Nariel is right," Raquel says. "We really ought to branch out into some other hobbies."

"Indeed. We've been rooted to this spot for too long."

"Tristan started it," Sasha whines to Nariel in her most juvenile tone. "He's a bad seed."

"Yeah, what a sap!"

"Tristan started it," Sasha whines to Nariel in her most juvenile tone. "He's a bad seed."

"You have to admit, anybody who can remain any kind of seed even after they've sprouted must have a knack for it."

The paladin walks away from the burial site while rubbing his forehead as if plagued by a terrible headache. He simply can't take it no more.

Realizing that to engage is sure to only invite more puns, Nariel sighs and mumbles quietly in elven "Saesa leitha amin tuulo' sina hin."

Pulling in quietly beside Aivar, Nariel glances over towards the large human man. Reading his body language, Nariel smirks a little before adding quietly "Well, at least I am not the only one who cannot suffer their humor."

"This is getting ridiculous, just leaf it be," Arianna slides in with a grin.

Aivar confides in Nariel and, with his back turned to the others, shares a lopsided grin with her. "As long as it keeps their morale up, I can take it. It's just that such whimsy and silliness isn't exactly tolerated by my peers. Not that the young swordlords-to-be who I trained with laughed much in general ..."

Upon completing that sentence his hand reaches for the elbow on the other side and starts rubbing it. The paladin then throws his head over his shoulder to make sure everything is still alright behind him before returning his gaze to Nariel. "The Gods know that these lands can do with hearing some laughter."

"But in the case of you stuffy killjoys, I suppose these lands will have to make do with groans. Now, come on, my friends! I'm positively pining for a warm bed," Tristan says with a wink to the others. He mounts his horse and starts off.

And scene.

"Yes, let's put an end to these puns. I think Aivar and Nariel would be sycamore."

Leaf-ing the bad puns well behind you, you set off through more recognisable lands towards the trading post.

Someone (or several someones) have clearly been busy in your absence, as the former fort is almost unrecognisable. Not only is the upper platform above the sleeping quarters now palisaded, but the gates have been reinforced with sturdy iron bars and gleaming new hinges.

In addition, the land to either side of the trading post is being cultivated: the soil is a patchwork of bare earth, interspersed with the green of growing crops. Petrov, the former bandit, is currently using Oleg's horse to plough some of the furrows. As the shout goes up from the fort when you are spotted, he looks around, running over to you. His face is a picture of alarm as he sees fewer horses than you had, but he does a quick headcount and sighs in relief. "Thank the gods for your safe return! After such a long absence, we were starting to worry. Come in, come in..."

The gates open, and you are met by a very relieved Svetlana, who alternates between giving you hugs and telling-off for not having returned sooner. Oleg is busy with unloading the wagon, but he gives you a nod of acknowledgement. Svetlana leads you into the common room, which is much fuller than when you were last here: trappers and woodsmen are drinking, either alone in silence, or in ones and twos here and there. Sergeant Whiteleaf and Captain Garess are playing cards with one of the more well-behaved groups. There is a steady buzz of - if not exactly warm conversation - companionable chat.

Svetlana brings you all a large plate of hot food. "Well, I'm sure you must have had some adventures out there - tell me what you've been up to."

Raquel eagerly digs into the hot food as she regales Svetlana with tales of their adventures. She leaves out some of the more unpleasant details, especially regarding the kobold caves. As the others talk though she sneaks glances towards Nariel out of the corner of her eye, thoughts simmering beneath the surface...

Later, she responds to Kazgar's letter, telling him she would be honored to attend the tomb-sealing service.

Later that night...

Raquel takes a swig from her flask, followed by a deep breath, then she knocks on the door to Nariel's quarters. She's dressed casually, wearing her homespun brown dress with the wine-red sash. She's polished her silver earrings, and the fresh smell of soap indicates that she's recently bathed. "Hey. May I come in?" she asks the elf.

Assuming Nariel says yes...

Raquel glances around Nariel's room, awkwardly smoothing out a few wrinkles in her dress. At length, her eyes find their way back to the wizard. "So, um... Our group's been through a lot together these past few months. I daresay the lot of us have become more than just adventuring companions. We're friends." She nervously licks suddenly dry lips. "But, uh, I was wondering... Maybe it's just me, but it feels like there might be something a little more than that going on between us. At least, I hope there might be..."

Raquel trails off for a few moments, then resumes speaking quickly, as if trying to get all the words out before she second-guesses herself. "I mean, I don't want to make presumptions. I don't know if you like other girls like that. Or humans, for that matter. But if there is something there, some spark, well, I just wanted to let you know that I would be interested in seeing where that might lead us."

The cleric clutches her flask and looks at Nariel, heart pounding as she waits to hear her response.

On arrival at the trading post, Arianna gives her greetings to everyone and cracks open her letter without thinking too much about it.

After a minute, her eyes go wide, and she ducks away from the others to read the whole thing at least three times in private.

When she finally re-emerges, her hair washed and clothes clean but looking even more tired than she did before, she gets a drink, and asks around looking for anyone who has been through the lands of House Lodovka or has had dealings with them in the past. If it is a stranger, she buys them a drink before plying them with questions along the lines of if the nobles of House Lodovka are good employers, if they treat their people well.

Actually, I think at the trading post we all share a common room if I’m not mistaken?

Hearing Raquel at her door, Nariel gets up and opens it for her and smiles "Of course you can come in Raquel, I was only preparing some new scrolls." Observing the Cleric’s nervous body language, Nariel motions towards a chair in room ”My work can wait though; is something on your mind?”

Sitting down cross legged on her bed, Nariel remains silent as Raquel unburdens her feelings. Realizing the extent of her affections, Nariel eyes widen. Her mind racing as Raquel finished speaking, Nariel responded quietly "Raquel, I…" trailing off a moment, Nariel struggled for words before finally adding "I did not know you felt that way." Standing up, Nariel crossed the room to close the gap and sat across from her. Pausing a moment, Nariel continued cautiously "Raquel, I consider you and I the closest of friends. Indeed, I would even agree with your assessment, except that…" pausing, Nariel choked up a bit as she cast her glance away. Swimming in her head were the voices of so many of her elders in Kyonin, her parents, diplomats in the Queen’s servants, and even Inuviel’s warning before her falling out with him To love a human is to guarantee tragedy.

Sheepishly looking back up, Nariel finally added "Please do not think me cruel Raquel, but it is an affection I do not think I can return." Appearing increasingly despondent, Nariel’s voice wavered as she continued "You see, my kind, we… we live for many centuries, barely aging by human standards; it is a blessing, and a curse for those of us who travel beyond Kyonin." Standing up, Nariel begins pacing as she continues with a light smile and a reflective tone "Human lives are short, but the time they have is brilliant. My kind are naturally attracted to such intensity, but we keep ourselves distant by design. Watching our human friends age and pass is hard enough, but watching a lover grow old and pass without ourselves aging so much as a few years is heart wrenching." Looking up, Nariel appears glassy eyed and nervous as she adds "It is a heartbreak that I do not think I could bare."

Aivar nearly high-fives Petrov when he sees what the man has been up to during their absence. While he doesn't go as far as to give the man a hug, he does exchange firm handshakes with Petrov. Turning over a leaf - oh no, those puns have taken root in my head! - isn't easy and while Petrov hasn't scaled his mountainous challenge just yet, it is good to see him making solid progress.

There isn't much time to share pleasantries, however, as Svetlana claims their attention. If the hug didn't win Aivar over, the food surely did. Upon seeing the filled up common room he runs a hand over his chin only to find out he has managed to grow quite a beard during their days away from the post. Taming that beast will have to wait until after the meal has disappeared down into his growling tummy. When Svetlana comes by again, but this time with food, Aivar lets the others spin the tales of their adventures. He's too busy eating.

"Good Gods, Svetlana, it's good to be back", is all he has to add with a weary voice.

Sense Motive to notice Arianna's mood: 1d20 ⇒ 1 Nope.

Aivar will eat, wash, shave, groom and then enter a comatose state until the morning comes. Imagining what it must be like to return from such a journey makes me want to crawl into my own bed for a day or two, ha.

"I see. So then I shall be the one to endure the heartbreak," Raquel says, looking down at her feet. She unscrews her flask and takes another long pull from it. There's a hard edge in her voice when she looks back at Nariel. "Forgive me, but it seems a policy like that is cruelest to yourself. Sure, watching a lover grow old and die way before your time must be horrible, but let's be honest. People in our line of work don't exactly have a lengthy life expectancy. Hell, I almost died the first day we got to Oleg's!

"Cayden Cailean teaches us to live in the moment, to enjoy what's happening right now. You shouldn't let future worries and what-if's prevent you from living your life the way you want to. If you do have feelings for me, you shouldn't keep them suppressed. Sure, a love between us might be short-lived, for one reason or another... But our time together would be glorious! Our lives would be enriched for sharing that love, and if I were to pass on before you, I would hope you would look back on our love with fondness instead of sorrow."

Without warning, Raquel leans forward and presses her lips against Nariel's. The kiss is gentle though, and she only lingers a few seconds before pulling back to regard the elf. "What do you say? Are you willing to take a chance on me?"

Petrov beams at the paladin as they shake hands. "By the gods, it's good to be doing honest work again, sir. Farming's what I really understand, and this land..." he trails off. "It's like it's never known a plough, or been cultivated. The soil's so dark - everything just grows. This could be great farmland. No wonder everyone wants to own it."

==============

Arianna quickly finds that the trappers - while being mostly solitary folk - are happy to talk a redheaded young woman; but she also discovers that the majority are Rostlanders, with an almost instinctive dislike of "damned Issians." It's hard to find useful information and the conversation quickly side-tracks into politics.

One of the trappers, a huge man standing almost seven feet tall, with bushy hair and beard so blond they're almost white, is particularly vehement. "Let's face it, all the nobles, Issian or Rostlander, have more in common with themselves than with us. They play their game of kings and we're the fodder for their taxes and endless, petty battles! I'll say this for House Rogarvia: they may have been ****ers - stupid ****ers even, throwing an army away like that - but they were our ****ers! They kept the other Houses in line."

He looks at the group, owlish, drunk. "Heard you said there's dragons in the deep woods? Tell you what, business is good with the bandits on the run. Bring back a pair of dragon heads and I'll pay you five hundred in gold. Oleg can mount 'em behind the bar and we can call it The Rogarvia Arms, hah!"

He raises his flagon. "To the ****ing nobles that were our ****ing nobles!"

Remaining silent and somewhat poker faced, Nariel listens intently to what felt like a scolding. Nariel had to admit to herself though, Raquel had a right to be upset at the moment. As she listened to Raquel make her case, Nariel was beginning to understand what so many of her elders had said of human passion… it was intense. Nariel was unprepared for any of this, and grew increasingly uncomfortable.

When Raquel moved in close, Nariel did not retreat, though she was wide eyed and passive in her shock. A silence passed, as Nariel panicked quietly. Finally, Nariel stood up looking despondent and unnerved "You do not understand Raquel, you ask too much of me." Moving towards the door, stopped to look up "I… I need some time to process all of this. I need time alone." Grabbing her backpack, Nariel headed out. The only thought on her mind was I cannot become one of the forlorn.

Heading into the mess hall, Nariel finds the others conversing with the many trappers there. Normally Nariel would take the opportunity to converse with the colorful characters assembled therein, but she was in no mood for any of that at the moment. Finding Aivar and Arianna with the Levetons, Nariel approached. To her companions she appeared paler than usual and uncharacteristically unnerved "I… listen, if anyone needs to find me, I will be out foraging for spell components for a few hours."

Heading to the stable, Nariel mounted Hrive and preceded to exit the fort.

Nariel will actually do some foraging for materials, and take some scroll materials with her so she can throw herself into her work for a time.

Raquel doesn't move to stop Nariel as she grabs her things and beats a hasty retreat. She simply sighs and drains the rest of her flask, prays to Cayden to fill it up again, and drains it once more. She knows she's put a lot on the elf's plate all at once, and the wizard needs time to think things through. But it doesn't lessen the sting of rejection any more.

Raquel stumbles a bit as she makes her way back to the mess hall. She arrives in time to catch the end of the bearded man's toast. "Who's f~#*ing which nobles now? And nobody thought to invite me?"

The cleric slips into bartender mode, dispensing drinks and witty barbs as she tries put Nariel out of her mind for the time being.

She is only moderately successful.

Raquel stays in the mess hall long after the others finally call it quits and retire for the night. She sits and drinks and watches the door expectantly. She drinks more. Eventually, she is forced to admit that she already has her answer, and no amount of waiting is going to change it.

She has another drink.

***

Late that night, there is a knock on Aivar's door. Opening it reveals Raquel standing on the other side. The top laces of her dress are undone, exposing a deep valley of cleavage, and her eyes smolder with drunken desire. "Hey. Wanna f#*#?"

Sweat's dripping down Aivar's brow as he raises his weapon to fend off another blow, this time barely able to parry what would otherwise be a deadly blow. Bandits, bandits everywhere and always, always that damned laughter. A female voice, unnaturally smooth and rich, laughing as Aivar and his companions are overwhelmed by her will.

The dream ends as the knocking of blade and mace on the haft of his weapon is replaced by knuckles tapping against the wooden surface of the bedroom door. Before he truly manages to get into the here-and-now, Aivar blurts out some sleep-drunk words. "Good Gods, no."

It's clear to see with what little light falls into the room that the paladin's face is marred by sweat. He raises a hand to fend off the light, giving Raquel a moment to study him further, revealing that those thick curly locks of his are a matted mess. "Close the door, before anyone sees or hears you. There's room enough here, but no more of that. It is beneath you, and most unbecoming." Slowly, Aivar manages to shake off the emotions the dream had planted in him, bringing him to the realization that Raquel might be drunk and, more importantly, hurt. "I can listen, if you want me to."

Raquel scowls at Aivar's outburst. "Well, you don't have to be rude about it. The puns weren't that bad, were they?" she slurs.

It takes her a moment to register the paladin's haggard expression. She sighs. "Looks like you're going through some s!@$, too. Shame. I was supposed to be beneath you, and then you'd 'becoming.'"

Raquel closes the door and stumbles to Aivar's bed, where she flops down on the sweaty sheets. "Ew, moist," she mumbles. She rolls over onto her back and offers the paladin the flask that has lodged itself between her breasts. "Drink?"

I'll be sure to level Sasha up tomorrow.

Sense Motive to catch Arianna's mood: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

More than a hot meal or the comfort of an actual bed, Sasha needs a bath. When she is finished, she lets her hair down to dry and clean set of simple traveling clothes, something the current occupants of the trading post wouldn't find conspicuous.

Joining the common room, she buys some ale—one could only spend so much time around Raquel before developing a taste for the stuff—and some food from Svetlana before taking a seat next to Arianna. Something about her friend's demeanor had changed since they returned, and Sasha was eager to learn what was wrong. Making a point to look interested in the food and not eavesdropping on the conversation about House Lodovka—although eavesdrop she did—Sasha lets Arianna finish her inquiries before asking "Is everything alright? I know that we haven't really had a chance to rest yet, but you look like seven kinds of s%+#." The rogue smiles, but her eyes appear concerned.

---

Later that evening...

Sasha sighs and stares at the blank piece of paper sitting on the desk in front of her. She owes Tomasso a letter, but she isn't sure what to include and what to leave out. Surely word of the bandit's decline would spread, but what of the gold mine, or the kobold tribe they had arranged a grudging truce with? The Abadaran is ostensibly their ally, but she also believes that he would act only if their interests were to align.

If something changes, Sasha thinks. And we stand in the
way of something he wants, what then? How could she keep his interest, but also keep him at arm's length? And how could she dispel the feeling that she was out of her depth when it came to him.

Sasha is still staring at the blank sheet when she hears the knock. Not on her door, but the door next to hers, Aivar's room. She glances to the window, wondering what hour it is, and then back to the blank sheet. You're not going to get any work done tonight. Might as well go where the fun is.

Still dressed, she collects herself and pads over to Aivar's door, knocking gently. "Am I interrupting anything? I couldn't sleep and I heard some talking." Her explanation wasn't a lie, but it was easier than explaining why she was still awake.

"No, but my dignity is having troubles processing everything that's going on right now," grumbles Aivar. The man's discomfort is near palpable as he fends off the flask that magically keeps finding its way to his face. Eventually, he does accept it and puts the lid back on. "Someone who can't sleep dropped by and here we are, trying to get to the point where she understands that sleep is the best way forward." He shrugs, feeling more than a little lost in what's going on. He moves his legs to the side of the bed and sits up straight, revealing to Sasha the state he's in: a sweaty mess with dark circles underneath his eyes. "Did she - eh, we wake you up?"

It didn't feel fair to pin it all on Raquel, even if it's the truth.

"Sasha! Join the pity party! Have a drink!" Raquel says, waving the flask in her direction. "Aivar and I were supposed to have sex but I guess we're just talking now. Unless you wanna have sex with me while he watches? That might be fun, too."

If eyes could expand beyond the size of one's sockets, Aivar's would. "By Shelyn's honor, hush! None of the sorts was happening or about to happen!" The woman's words do give him the impetus he needed. He gets up and starts collecting some pants, socks, boots and a vest. If there ever was proof that men take significantly less time to dress up, it is to be found at this moment. "I'm going for a walk. Apologies for the disturbance, Sasha."

Raquel waves as Aivar abruptly gets dressed and exits. "Y'know, for a paladin of the goddess of love, the big guy's awfully squeamish about actual lovemaking."

She sighs and flops back down on the bed. "That's the second time somebody's walked out on me tonight. Nariel was the first. I'd fallen pretty hard for her. Finally worked up the courage to confess my feelings and she shut me down hard. Told me in no uncertain terms that it ain't gonna happen. You know the best way to get over somebody, though? Get under somebody else."

She rolls over onto her side and looks at Sasha. "Aivar's too prudish to give me what I need. Tristan's pretty, but his head is so far up his own ass that he never even notices when I'm coming onto him. I don't know if you or Arianna play for your own team, so to speak. Maybe Petrov? He owes me for sparing his life."

"So I'm your, what, fifth pick?" Arianna deadpans. "I'm flattered. Nevertheless, not in the mood. Ugh, the irony is that in the long run it'll probably be easier to negotiate with Lodovka seeing as I didn't steal from them."

She rubs her eyes and sighs. "I'm sorry Nariel turned you down. Those sorts of interracial relationships aren't always a recipe for happily-ever-after, though."

Raquel blinks and squints at Arianna. She didn't even notice the redhead coming into Aivar's room, but then again, she is very drunk. "Not fifth... More like tied for fourth with Sasha, and only because I don't know your sexual preferences. But don't get me wrong, you're all attractive people. I'd drop my panties for any of you in a heartbeat if you asked."

let's go with, was walking by and overheard the comments

Arianna quickly takes her exeunt stage left, going off somewhere alone to pen three letters.

which I will write up in the morning

Raquel follows Sasha back into her room before Aivar returns from his walk. She crawls into bed with the rogue and instinctively snuggles against her before finally slipping into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

In the morning, she groans and holds her pounding head. "Cayden, help me out here, bud," she murmurs, and to her surprise, the hangover fades away into little more than a dull buzz. She smiles and raises her flask in salute to the heavens. "Thanks!" She downs its contents.

I think lesser restoration works as a hangover cure. :)

The cleric heads to the kitchen to help Svetlana prepare breakfast. As she cooks, she sings a song in praise of freedom, bravery, and Cayden Cailean's glory (and good looks), drinking from a mug of ale between stanzas. When you follow Cayden, it's never too early to start drinking!

When Aivar makes his way to the mess hall, Raquel brings him a plate of food and sits beside him. "Hey. About last night... I'm sorry that I carried on like that. You ran off before you even had a chance to tell me what was bothering you. If you need to get something off your chest, well, I'm here now."

But Svetlana isn't needed today. Raquel is here. He'd talk if only he could, but a growling stomach demands sacrifice. Half-way through his plate, his stomach lets him know that he's once again allowed to talk. "Thank you, and it's okay, we all deal with what bothers us in our own way. I mean it, I'm not mad. I ... just can't do that. It's not that I condemn it or those who do, but my name doesn't allow it nor does my heart. I hope you understand that."

Which doesn't answer her request for him to share what's bothering him. He chews away on some sour bread and gulps it down together with his fears. "I keep having these dreams lately where I fail all of you, where I'm not strong enough to protect all of you, and I really do feel that I need to train harder and be less complacent, so that even if I fail, I know it is because the task was beyond me ..."

But no Brevan warrior would happily admit that a task is beyond him.

Raquel waves off Aivar's explanation. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. If you want to wine and dine me first, though, I'm open to taking things slow. Unless you just think of me as a sister, too? I've been getting that a lot lately."

When the paladin confesses his fears, she laces her fingers through his. "Hey, relax. You're putting way too much responsibility on yourself! You've traveled with us and fought alongside us for months now. Surely you can see that we're all capable adventurers in our own right. We all contribute equally in battle--you smite evildoers, I heal everybody, Nariel--" Raquel chokes up for a moment before clearing her throat. "Nariel casts the spells that make the peoples fall down. Yes, sometimes we get in fights where it gets dicey, but if one of us falters, five other companions are there to have our backs."

She smiles up at Aivar and pats his cheek. "So stop carrying the weight of the world on those broad, manly shoulders! And if you have worries... When you feel insecure, don't keep it bottled up inside. That just makes it worse. It's a lesson I'm still learning, myself. But you're always going to have friends who are here for you, okay?"

Aivar raises a hand as in protest but knows it's futile. It drops back onto the table and he turns around to Raquel, the volume of his voice lower than before. "I think I get it, but my heart is on a different track than my mind. I ... I don't know how you were raised and brought up, but everyone expects young noble lads to be perfect swordsmen, able to slay a dragon or giant even on a bad day. My father never said as much, but until I broke my arm he paid for years of practice by the most esteemed swordlords."

He pauses and then, with genuine incredulity showing on his face, continues. "Breaking my arm as a teen felt like I failed my family and country, how crazy is that? Few people seemed to feel sorry for me, instead, they felt sorry that I would most likely never become a swordlord, what with my arm now being a rigid mess. Anyways, you get the point. The heart might need some time to digest it all. So until it does, I'll keep waking up early while we're at the outpost, and go out and exercise. The next time we run into trouble, they'll know they made a mistake running into us."

The last words are accompanied by a cheeky wink.

Raquel laughs at Aivar's last assertion. "Indeed!" She grows a little more sober then. "It sounds like your family put a lot of pressure on you when you were a kid. I can relate... But that's a story for another time. The short version is, it's never too late to reinvent yourself. You don't have to let your past dictate your future."

Love what you're all doing with the downtime!

The next evening, when you enter the bar-room, you see that there is another visitor to the trading post: a woman sits alone at the bar, the trappers and hunters giving her a wide berth. Her dark hair falls to well below her shoulders, framing a face that is typically Chelish in appearance, both in its pale good looks and the sultry expression of haughtiness. Her clothing is of a fine make, but has evidently seen considerable travel.

The reason for the wide circle of empty, silent space in an otherwise crowded bar-room is probably the little gold pentagram discreetly affixed to the lapel of her robes - so discreetly, in fact, that the eye cannot help being drawn to it.

Raquel notices the newcomer across the room, and her interest is piqued. Ooh, a bad girl. Raquel grins and brings a full mug of ale over to the woman.

"Hey there, gorgeous. I'm Raquel. What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"