A Game of Kingmaker

Game Master Wandering Wastrel

Aivar's attack misses completely; Tristan scores a hit with his rapier, but it bounces off the blue creature's skin without making a mark.

Arianna shows how it's done when her elbow caves in the thing's skull, and Sasha's arrow takes the last remaining mite through the eye, killing it instantly.

Combat over! Also, hex explored. Also also, you are now the proud owners of a couple dozen moon radishes.

As soon as the last mite falls, Raquel rushes over to Nariel. "Help me get her off the horse! We need to warm her up!"

Once she's down,the cleric shrugs off her armored coat and wraps it around herself and the elf. She hopes her body heat will keep her from succumbing to hypothermia until a fire can be built.

]Take 10 on a Heal check for 17 to keep Nariel from getting worse, and take 10 on Survival to give her a +4 bonus on her next save against extreme weather if necessary.

Seeing that all the creatures are down, Tristan looks as his rapier with a scowl. "You had one job - 'be sharp.' Bad sword." Sheathing his blade, Tristan turns to the others. "Anyone want to tell me what those were and why their skin felt like a tree trunk? I could barely even draw blood."

Sasha slings her bow over her shoulder and rushes over to where Raquel clutches the unconscious Nariel. "What about one of those stones?" she asks. "That should warm her up."

Once Nariel is warmed up a bit, Raquel calls upon Cayden to heal the group's frostbite.

Channel Energy: 1d6 ⇒ 41d6 ⇒ 6

"W-w-w-what were we thinking, going out with weather like this for weeks on end. Surely the g-g-g-gods are punishing us fo-for our f-f-folly," clatters Aivar through rattling teeth.

"It was this or wait until spring," Arianna replies. She makes good use of the extract she took, setting up their camp seemingly unaffected by the cold.

After checking over the map, she says, "Fortunately, we are back in the vicinity of the trading post. It might be wise to stock up."

As her companions take her down from Hrive's back, Nariel appears to weakly be whispering something repeatedly in her unconscious state "Amin hiraetha... amin hiraetha... amin hiraetha..." Eventually, she goes quiet as Racquel throws her coat around her in an attempt to shield Nariel from the cold.

With the stone rigged up to provide her with warmth, Nariel gradually convalesces as her body temperature slowly rises. Her eyes slowly opening, Nariel becomes acutely aware that everyone is gathered around her. Gathering the fringes of Racquel's coat around her, she bundles it closely around herself as she sits up. Looking very self-conscious, Nariel clasps her arms around herself and looks downward before quietly adding "Mellonea*, I am so very sorry... I," pausing a moment, Nariel looks up somewhat sheepishly and more quietly adds "I am not accustomed to this weather; winters in Kyonin are far less... harsh. That is no excuse for my frailty of body though. It won't happen again."

Bringing her knees closer to her chest, Nariel attempts her best to keep warm in the blistering cold. After a time, Nariel finally speaks up "Do you think we can head back to the outpost soon? If the weather continues like this, I may well prove a burden on you all."

Raquel fills a mug with wine and hands it to Nariel. She sits beside the shivering elf. "Hey, don't swear it," she says somewhat ironically. "This wasn't your fault. If anything, I should have recognized the danger earlier and protected you accordingly. We're all just glad you're okay. And from now on, I'll share Cayden's blessings of warmth with you each morning."

She squeezes Nariel's hand affectionately. "We should get back to the trading post, though, to check in and resupply. Plus... Radish wine! Yay!"

The cold abates somewhat as you and your bedraggled horses trudge back to the comparative safety of the trading post.

It is immediately apparent, even on a distant approach to the old fort, that changes have been made in your absence. The wooden watchtowers have all been repaired, and the pale wintry sun still manages to catch the glint of armour showing soldiers keeping watch. The watchtowers by the gate both proudly fly the flag of Brevoy. As you approach closer, you can see that the rotted wooden logs have been replaced with fresh wood.

Once you are within hailing distance, you are challenged to identify yourselves, but this is quickly over and done with and the gate opens to welcome you inside. Petrov quickly takes your horses from you, stabling them and promising to look after them, while Svetlana rushes out from her home, smiling broadly. "Welcome back, my dears, welcome! The kettle is on, now let's get you inside..."

The biggest change is to the building housing the taproom. The old sleeping quarters have been internally separated from the taproom and now form a barracks, having their own entrance; and another story has been added to the building. This new level houses individual guest rooms; and a ladder runs up the outside of the building to the roof, where a railing surrounds an observation platform from which the fort commander could issue orders to all the garrison.

Settling you in the warmth of the taproom, close to the blazing fire, Svetlana plies you with tea and fresh bread while supper cooks. "I honestly can't believe it's been - what, seven weeks? The time seems to have flown by." She positively glows with pride as she shows you the various improvements. "Petrov has worked wonders, and the Captain has been free in letting his men help out when they're not on patrol. But anyway, enough about us. What have you been up to?"

There's something to seeing the flag of the place you call home dancing in the wind. Aivar, chucking forth at a snail's pace, stares at Brevoy's double dragons before he too is swallowed up by the fort's gate.

What follows is a shift from cold to comfort, from legs that constantly want to push on to a behind that's nestled cozily in a chair close to a loving fire. Hands eagerly wrap themselves around a warm cup. "Suffering for the greater good, trodding onwards for the flag of Brevoy." The commentary is accompanied by a cheeky grin. "We've explored a great deal to the south-west of the outpost and stumbled upon some places of interest, but Winter's strong grasp on the land made every step we took a veritable struggle. Suffice to say, progress came slowly, but here we are, back again and wiser than before."

"And, we found your moon radishes!" Raquel says, proudly presenting the sack full of the tasty tubers.

Svetlana beams with delight and gives each of you a warm hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I shall go and make soup right now, and we will have supper Ustalav-style!" She sighs. "Such a shame Oleg isn't here, he always says my moon-radish soup is like nothing else he's ever tasted, but he left to get supplies early this morning. Oh well." She beams. "His loss!"

'Supper Ustalav-style' turns out to be something called broschtvak, a deep-purple soup which is served ice-cold and to which sour cream is added, turning it into something the colour of liquefied internal organs.

It tastes of mouldy soil, but by adding enough salt and pepper you can make it taste of salt and pepper... with only the faintest aftertaste of mouldy soil. Svetlana beams as she slurps it down. "Oh, it's as good as I remember it, a real taste of home! Thank you again, and let me think about how to repay you."

At least there's plenty of slivovic to wash it down with...

The reward essentially takes the form of 300 gp worth of supplies from the trading post. You can use it as a part-payment towards something more expensive if you want to: in that case it would effectively be a discount of 300 gp. Magic items are available, but have to be ordered from the nearest settlement (probably Nivatka's Crossing, unless you want something rare in which case it would have to come from Restov).

300 each? Or 300 for the party?

Sasha tries to exude the usual amount of cheer that her companions are accustomed to when they return to the trading post, but she finds it difficult. The mood that came over her after encountering the fey stayed with her, and the cold, foul soup in front of her didn't help. She eats about half the bowl, and claiming exhaustion, retires to write Dottori a letter.

Accepting the mug of wine, Nariel cups it with both hands and takes a drink. While she knew alcohol only made one feel warm, as opposed to actually warming the body, Nariel was happy to have it. Looking up from her mug to Racquel with a smile, Nariel quietly responds "Thanks Racquel, I appreciate your kindness and understanding."

The return journey had Nariel wondering if Inuviel had responded to her missive. Nariel had been deeply worried about his critique of her performance. That said, the last seven weeks had put her life into perspective. Certainly, having nearly frozen to death while on expedition at the behest of Dame Sarona, Nariel was less concerned about whether she had offended her than she might have been at the onset of her journey.

Glancing up at the flag as they neared the fort, Nariel was somewhat stone faced in her expression. Inuviel had reminded Nariel in no uncertain terms that she was from Kyonin, and ultimately her loyalties would always lay with her people. That said, Brevoy would be a more dependable neighbor and a positive influence in the Stolen Lands, bringing with it some form of rule of law to the untamed lands.

Upon entering, Nariel smiled warmly as Svetlana greeted them. Nariel gladly made her way to taproom to be warmed up, whereby she sneezed. "My apologies, I've not been terribly well that past week or so. The cold is certainly not agreeing with me." Taking a bowl of the soup, Nariel tries to stomach as much as she can before setting it aside "It is delicious, but you will have to forgive me for not finishing," pausing to sneeze again, Nariel shakes her head and adds "my appetite is always the first thing to go when I am unwell." Getting up, Nariel follows closely behind Sasha "If you will all excuse me, I think it best if I got some rest."

Raquel slurps down the cold soup with a wan smile on her face. "Mmm! It's... quite the unique flavor!" she manages.

After the meal, the cleric takes the remaining radishes and does her best to distill something alcoholic from them.

Take 10 Profession (brewer): 10 + 7 = 17

It's 300 for the group, sorry if that wasn't clear.

Svetlana looks at Nariel with concern and understanding. "Of course, my dear, and now that you have your own room you can sleep without being disturbed - oh, that reminds me!" Fishing around behind the bar, she eventually finds a piece of parchment. "This came for you a few weeks ago, but I'm afraid the damp must have got it on its way here, it's complete gibberish I'm afraid..."

Svetlana watches Raquel with interest (and a degree of disappointment) as she brews all of the remaining radishes into a liquor. "I find that the fermentation process destroys the flavour: it becomes sticky and sweet, and you lose that delicious earthy taste. But each to their own, dear."

"Maybe it won't be the best-tasting drink, but it's important to try. If some ancient brewmaster had never decided to try to distill potatoes, we never would have had vodka! Nothing ventured, nothing gained!" Raquel says cheerily.

Eat your vegetables. You don't want to grow up to be a dwarf - or worse, a gnome, right, young Aivar?! Oh, he remembered how their nanny treated his dislike for anything that wasn't sickly sweet or crunchy, so downing the soup Svetlana had prepared was a breeze for him. Gosh, wait, hadn't the nanny been an Ustalavan as well?!

"Say, Svetlana, and my apologies, Raquel, for trodding this conversation down another path with what I'm about to say, but would you happen to know if any dwarves have passed through here recently? Or, any noticeable dwarves in recent years? I ask because we stumbled upon a Dwarvish burial mound out there and, if possible, I'd like to reach out to any descendants or family if possible. It's a crazy longshot, I know, but perhaps there are lessons to be learned from what befell them."

No idea if it's relevant, but I imagine that the sight of so many dwarven remains in a dilapidated tomb sticks with someone.

"Oh, yeah! I'd better write that letter to Kazgar," Raquel says. In between her brewing, she begins to scribe a missive:

Kazgar,

In Cayden's Name,
Raquel

Arianna makes no comment on the flavor or texture of the soup, but she does thank Svetlana for the meal. Despite her hopes, it doesn't do much to alleviate her homesickness. Afterwards, she goes to her room to pen two letters. The first is to Lucille, expressing her gratitude for sending the map. The second is to her family, addressed to her older sister Cecylia.

Raquel's attempt to brew the radishes into something enjoyable is a success, resulting in a dark purple, foamy brew that (despite Svetlana's misgivings) tastes sweet without being sickly.

The following evening, Oleg returns to the trading post, sporting the most amazingly livid bruise across the side of his face. He does not want to talk about it, but from the way he curses the ice, the snow, and the weather in general it seems fairly clear what happened. "Bloody Winter! When's it going to end, that's what I want to know!" But in fact, the change of season is becoming more and more apparent with each passing day. There's been no fresh snowfall for some time now, and although the nights remain freezing, the sunshine during the day is melting the snow, allowing patches of muddy, frozen ground to be clearly seen.

Svetlana clucks like a mother hen and fusses over Oleg, which he doesn't complain about. He nods at you. "Alright, then. See you made it back. Got something for you, courtesy of the church of Abadar." He hands over a jingling purse of 100 platinum pieces, although not without a slight twinge of envy. "Take it, you've earned that the hard way."

Your loot is piling up! Just for avoidance of doubt: 100 platinum = 1,000 gold

There are also more letters, one for Raquel (from Leroy, who seems to be hard at work in Magnimar; he hopes that you and Thunder ('great name!') are doing well but doesn't know when you'll next be able to share a pint or two, for which he apologises and promises to make it up to you).

The other letter is for Tristan (from his parents, who are grateful to have heard from him and who manage to be both anxious and annoyed with him in the way that only parents can truly manage).

The next morning, Captain Garess returns from his patrols along the road ("Go ahead, tell me the bad news up front. Don't try to break it to me gently. Have my troops deserted? Did the new building work collapse? Were you chased out of the Greenbelt in fear of your lives? Are you all still speaking to one another? These sorts of expeditions always end badly, you'll be knifing one another in the back, I shouldn't wonder.")

After a few more days of comfort, it is time to face the wilderness once again.

Where to? Eastward along Row B? Or South?

Raquel is excited that her radish brew was a success. She scribble the recipe down for future reference.

She's happy to receive a letter from Leroy, and writes back asking him to bring her back something pretty from Varisia.

After a few days of relaxation, the cleric is ready to explore again.

I'd say let's finish row B then go down and work our way back.

I'm good with that.

EARLY SPRING, 4719

Once More Into the Wilderness

THEME MUSIC

Your stay at the trading post has coincided with a shift in the weather - and on your first night out in the wilderness, you are treated to a spectacular thunderstorm: lightning forks down from the sky amid sheets of rain, and the distant hills seem to shake to the crash of thunder. Your horses are terrified, and spend most of the night trying to escape from their tethering; you in turn spend most of a sleepless night trying to keep them from bolting.

You are wet and exhausted when the dawn comes; but the sun - when it finally peeks through the clouds - illuminates a landscape from which the snow has been washed away completely. Flies, midges and other insects buzz lazily over the myriad puddles of water that lie amid the muddy soil; and you can see, far off, the silhouette of birds soaring aloft.

You press on, tired, your damp clothing almost steaming in the muggy air. Everywhere there is a sense that after a long, cold Winter, the land is ready to burst into life once more.

THEME MUSIC

As the days away turn once more into weeks, the landscape changes around you, with green grass growing where only days before there was mud - and before that, icy snow. The nights are still chilly, and some mornings there is frost, but the long cold Winter is over.

Hexes B9, B8, B7, C7 and C8 explored

It is perhaps this lull in activity that explain's Aivar's carelessness - pushing forward one morning, his mount activates a carefully concealed tripwire that sets off several loud bangs, flashes, and a cloud of green smoke! It is testament to your new-found skills that you all manage to stay in the saddle as your spooked horses rear wildly, almost bolting from under you.

From out of the smoke advances a grizzled man in late middle-age, his jaws thick with grey stubble and his clothing tattered and camouflaged against the background. His eyes are sharp - as is the bolt of the heavy crossbow he points at you. Its ammunition has been modified to include some sort of alchemical flask.

"Guldurn it, ya pack o wrasslin, nogood, lowdown varmits - we had a deal! I give you hornswogglin, thievin curs my best potions and you leave me the hells alone! Or Imma have to take Bessie here" he pats his heavy crossbow; "an give y'all an enema you won't never forget! Now GIT!"

(From Svetlana's description of him, it appears that this is Bokken, the hermit. Clearly the man values his privacy.)

"Hold on!"

It is entirely uncertain whether Aivar is addressing the hermit or his horse as he busies himself trying to calm down Romas. He then raises himself to properly face and address the man. "First of, we have never met you before nor struck any sort of deal with you. It's Bokken, right? Svetlana told us about you."

Aivar takes a breather to give the man a moment to have this information sink in. Sink in past an emotional level so that what he's about to say next won't trigger an immediate crossbow-bolt-to-his-face reaction. The calm and collective manner in which he speaks is a facade: inside, he's abuzz with doubt, aware this situation might very well escalate. When you get atop of a horse, you best make sure you're the one riding it, Aivar. Damn straight, pa.

"Secondly, you could've caused any of our horses to panic and, subsequently, break a leg. Now, please, lower that crossbow. We aren't in the River Kingdoms. We are Brevans, and we are here to deal with the bandits, those very same bandits who are extorting you for goods and wares. Unlike them, we would pay or trade for potions."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26
Silver Tongue trait in case it applies: when using Diplomacy to shift a creature’s attitude, shift up to three steps up rather than just two.

"Aivar speaks true," Raquel chimes in, patting Thunder's flanks to calm him down. "We are friends of Oleg and Svetlana. And I have a recipe for a killer radish wine you might be interested in."

Diplomacy (Aid Aivar): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

The point of the crossbow doesn't waver so much as an inch; the grizzled man looks each of you over, his eyes gleaming shrewdly in his wrinkled face. "Ya talk purty, but ya don't look like sodjers, now, do ya?"

(This is unarguably true: you've spent the better part of three weeks exploring nearly 600 square miles of muddy terrain while being almost perpetually rained on.)

Bokken grunts. "Seems we has ourselfs one o they Azlanti stand-offs." He squints at the group. "Less any o yer friends has somethin to say for theyselves?"

Raquel's Aid Another didn't cut it, sadly.

Since recovering from her cold (and the moon radish soup), Nariel has appeared somewhat absent-minded and distant. She has said little, and eaten even less, though her cold has passed.

Finally though, several days on the road appear to have bring her usually more outgoing nature back, in spite of the rain. The appearance of Bokken seems to amuse Nariel, his grumpy manner oddly lifting her spirits. Pulling her rain soaked hood back, Nariel smiles and speaks in an almost melodious tone, with a gentle laugh "Well met Bokken, you are quite correct," glancing back at her companions, Nariel nods before continuing "we are not soldiers, but rather explorers. That having being said, we are explorers similarly charged with the task of dealing with wanton banditry in this region."

Gracefully dismounting from of Hrive, Nariel slowly approaches the stand-off "So in our opposition to banditry, we have common ground I hope you can agree." Gently placing a hand on Aivar, Nariel looks to reassure her companion before continuing to address the cantankerous man before them "Bokken, you are a purveyor of potions, correct? This meeting is good fortune if so, we are in need of some well crafted magical potions. I am a skilled magician, but potions is not something I have mastered, so your wares would be most appreciated." Smiling warmly, she holds out her hand "I am Nariel Laeric of Kyonin. As my people say quel re oment-lle, or rather, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

Diplomacy, (Aid Aivar): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

Flattery and the offering of money for his services will be Nariel's approach.

Raquel gasps softly as Nariel pulls back her hood, revealing her beautiful elven features. Sweet barleybrew! Even muddy and sodden, her hair is still perfectly straight! Mine frizzes up at the slightest bit of humidity. Must be an elven thing.

"As Nariel said, we ride under the auspices of the Swordlords of Brevoy and I, Aivar Orlovsky of House Orlovsky, am not a soldier but a loyal servant of Brevoy, and, I bear a Charter which bestows upon my companions and I the right and duty to take care of the bandit scourge in this region. Now, please, again, lower that crossbow for you are no bandit."

And then something strikes him like lightning, causing his entire posture to loosen up as relaxation washes over the tall Brevan. Out of nowhere, laughter rolls out of his chest, those deep rumbling sounds rolling out like an avalanche before he manages to pick up the pieces of his composure. It had been something in the man's stance, that angry yet curious twinkle in his eyes, that reminded him of someone. Eva.

"I don't think your cousin Eva would appreciate it if she ever finds out you skewered me with a crossbow bolt. Yes, I met her at the Mayor's Ball at New Years and we shared a dance. Lovely lass, wouldn't you agree?"

She's his niece, not his cousin, but we'll let it slide :-)

Bokken frowns uncertainly as Nariel reveals herself, the point of his crossbow wavering. "Y'dont look like no sodjer, but yer no bandit neither."

He drops the crossbow in astonishment when Aivar mentions Eva's name. "M'little Jigget!" He strides firmly over to Aivar, grasping him by the hand. "Any friend o hers is one o mine! How is she, how is she? Her da - my brother, gods curse him - was meaner'n a snake even afore he went to the big city and got hisself mixed up with bad sorts, but she's the sweetest, loveliest..." he trails off, mopping at his eyes. "Bah, I'm a sentimental old fool, that's the truth of it."

He turns away swiftly, darting a shrewd gaze towards Nariel. "Kay, let's talk business. Like I said, those guldarn nogood thiefin sunsaspiches took all me best potions, an I'm outta supplies fer more. There's a fangberry patch other side o the hills from here, they're a key ingredient fer what I need." he points vaguely Southwest. "If'n y'all can save me that journey then I kin provide y'all with what you want, see?"

He looks expectantly at you. "We have a deal?"

Row B and Row C now fully explored! Where to now?

Raquel rides up and pats Aivar on the shoulder to say well done--his broad, finely muscled shoulder. And if her hand lingers slightly longer than necessary, well, that's only due to the growing camaraderie between adventuring companions, right?

"Sounds good to me, Bokken! We're becoming experts on gathering rare plants. We'll fetch your fangberries lickety-split!"

Arianna walks her horse past Raquel's and flicks Raquel behind the ear."You know, Aivar, if she's ever making you uncomfortable, you can always say something. Just putting that out there."

Raquel yelps at the flick and rubs her ear. "Ouch! Jealous, are we? I'd be happy to express my appreciation for you too, Arianna, if you're interested." The priestess gives the redhead a wink,

MID SPRING, 4719

Moving from the lowland plains into the Kameland Hills brings back the cold that you had hoped to leave behind: the higher altitude and the biting wind chill you to the bone, and the ground is still white with frost every morning. It burns off quickly enough as the sun rises, but each night that it sets is like the coming of Winter all over again.

For all that, the signs of Spring are clearly evident: the gorse and heather are green and look as though they are coming into flower, and the grass is growing (good to know all that rain was good for something). The occasional trees dotted in wind-sheltered valleys are beginning to come into leaf as well; the hotter part of the day is filled with the buzzing of insects, and the sight of darting swifts and swallows.

You see evidence, too, of the many trappers and hunters that forage in this region. Clearly the change in weather has brought them back into the Stolen Lands - they give you a wide berth, but their sign and their (marked!) traps are clearly apparent.

You are exploring a particularly rocky outcrop when disaster strikes: the ground gives way beneath Sasha's horse! Unfazed, the rogue manages to catch onto the lip of the hole that opened up beneath her feet, but her luckless (and unnamed?) horse is not so fortunate - it screams as it falls, a sickening sound that is cut off by an even more sickening *crunch* as it hits the ground many feet below.

Sasha is left clinging to the edge (which she notices is made of worked stone blocks), her feet dangling over a lightless pit...

Arianna spews curses as she scrambles off of her horse and rushes forward to grab Sasha's wrists before she can lose grip. "F**$ing help me!" she snaps back at the others.

"Sasha! Hang on!" Raquel rushes up alongside Arianna to lend a hand.

RIP, horse.

The fall isn't immediate, a fact which certainly saves Sasha's life. Her horse whinnies in alarm, the ground crumbling away beneath it. Feeling the brief weightlessness, Sasha throws herself clear of the saddle before her mount drops away. She grabs at the edge of the pit, gloved hands scrabbling for any purchase and then Arianna and Raquel are there.

"Oh, gods. Don't let go!" she shouts, feeling her legs swing through empty space.

Bokken Conversation

Pleased and relieved to see that they had gained Bokken's trust, Nariel looked in the south-west direction he had pointed. Nodding, she responded "Indeed Bokken, that sounds a fair exchange," looking to Raquel with a light grin, Nariel adds "after all, Raquel is quite right, he have become quite familiar with the local vegetation."

Mid Spring

With the weather improving, Nariel's spirits were high as the explored the region. When the rain lets up, Nariel even took to writing notes about local vegetation and animal life.

As Sasha suddenly finds herself in danger having fallen into a pit trap, Nariel quickly joins Raquel and Arianna. Nariel realized very quickly that she wouldn't be of much use in pulling the young girl up, as Nariel herself was slight and not possessed of much physical strength. Looking over her shoulder, she calmly calls out to Aivar and Tristan "Quickly gentlemen, your strength is required."

Once Sasha is free, Nariel will cast light into the pit so we can get a better sense of its construction.

It's a simple matter to pull Sasha back from the edge of darkness. Removing the mat of vegetation that was covering the hole, you can see that you are in fact looking at an ancient pit-shaft. The stone blocks that form its construction are deeply weathered, but still sound.

Nariel's light spell illuminates the darkness to twenty feet, which is enough to see - at the bottom - the shattered remains of what was once a horse. More significantly, something shines back at you from the darkness, glittering brightly: a vein of gold as thick as Aivar's arm.

You have - quite literally - stumbled upon the ruins of a former gold-mine.

"Sweet barleybrew," Raquel swears softly as she looks at the gruesome remains of Sasha's horse. She looks away quickly, hoping to hold onto her lunch.

Her eyes widen as she sees the glittering vein of gold. "Sweet barleybrew!" she says more loudly. "Sasha, it looks like your mount's sacrifice was not in vain. There's gold in this here hill!"

Thoughts and worries like an overcooked steak is what Aivar spent his time chewing on after their encounter with Bokken. From the attention - teasingly, but with a hint of bittersweet sincerity - he was getting from Raquel to puzzling together who Eva is and how she came to be that person. Mounted high on his horse, it didn't escape him that he was born into a blessed station.

But that blessing then came to an abrupt ending. A screech. A sickening smack. A cry for help.

Panting and sweating with worry, Aivar stares at Sasha after they recollected her from certain doom. "Are you alright? Gods Below," mumbles the man who is now riding out the tail end of the adrenaline wave which had surged through him upon seeing Sasha fall into nothingness.

Well, nothingness. Man's eternal greed for gold. "We ought to mark this area, somehow, to ensure no one else stumbles into this pit. I ...", and Aivar frowns as he peers down into the pit. "I think we ought to give your horse a proper burial, but how in Kurgess's name do we manage that?"

Raquel steps closer to Aivar and looks down with him. "There's no way we can haul him out of there. We could climb down and pile rocks on top of him though to build him a cairn. It's probably the best we can do, given the circumstances."

Arianna's eyes go very wide at the sight of the surface vein. "Oh, that's...ah...hold on. Why would somebody abandon an established gold mine that has a huge visible vein?"

Tristan pats Able gently to calm the horse when its fellow goes over the cliff to its doom. He is not fast enough to be among the first to retrieve Sasha, but he helps get her and Arianna back to safety as well as he can.

"Such riches are not forgotten easily, but little in this land is easy,"[b] Tristan says of the gold. The glint of gold trapped in rock is, somehow, even more interesting to him than pounded into jewelry.

Tristan thinks for a moment, and many dark songs and stories of gold-lust and jealousy circle in his mind, of betrayals between even the closest of friends. [b]"We'd best not tell anybody about this anytime soon, my friends. Bandits may be the least of our troubles if it's location gets out."

Wide-eyed and shivering, Sasha stands as far as she can from the hole that almost claimed her. "Maybe somebody covered it up for a good reason, like it eats innocent horses."

She quirks a smile. "Heh, I get it, Raquel. Not in vein?"

Raquel returns Sasha's smile and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "A little humor helps lessen the pain of loss. We'll drink to your noble steed tonight."

Her curiosity peaked, Nariel continues to stare down the pit towards the mine. The resources it contained were of course of useful, but more curious to the elf was the mine itself. Who abandons a mine that clearly still has yield? What could have possibly driven them away? Trying to discern as much information as she can, Nariel takes a quill to paper and observes as many significant details about the pit as possible. Additionally, Nariel writes down any and all significant land markers to ensure that they can find the mine again.

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31
Just trying to pickup and other details if possible.

After finishing her work, Nariel carefully rolls up the page and puts it into her scroll case. Standing up, she returns to the group. Placing a hand light on Sasha's shoulder reassuringly, Nariel chimes in "That was a close call Sasha, I'm glad you're alright." Glancing over at her own horse, Nariel adds "Until we acquire a new horse for you, why not ride with me? Hrive can easily take the weight of us both."

Sasha doesn't shrug away their comfort, nodding to the wizard. "Thanks, Nariel. I appreciate that."

She looks to the rest of the party. "Can we afford to give her a burial?"