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[Caellath]

"Hello, Navarre. Could I have a word with you? Alone?"

Smiling as always, Navarre hadn't even bothered unsheathing his rapier when the figure emerged from the shadow, recognizing Lon Lon's familiar figure. Raising an eyebrow at the request, he stared back at the half-elf bard. He left Kathryn behind in the temple for some time since it seemed she needed some time alone, and the swashbuckler knew when to respect other people's private moments.

"Sure you could, my friend." the swashbuckler answers. "Would you be seeking romantic advice?" he quipped. Navarre knew it probably didn't pertain to that, but the idea was fun nonetheless "Or, more vaguely, perhaps something related to romantic pursues."

[Sirus]

"It's the later, I assure you," Lon replied, smiling just a little at Navarre's breezy attitude. "Shall we step outside?"

He led the way through the back door of the inn, before coming to a stop underneath a nearby tree. He couldn't stop himself from fidgeting with his monocle while he waited for the swashbuckler to catch up, and he cursed mentally at his fraying nerves. The old habit was hard to break, and in situations like these it came back with a vengeance.

All you have to do is ask the question, a voice in his mind said, a voice that sounded remarkably like his own. Navarre's a good person, and he'll have the right answer.

A far darker voice revealed it's ugly presence. Kill him. Leave his body in a ditch. It's no more than he deserves. Lon firmly told that voice to shut up, and turned to face Navarre.

[Caellath]

"I already may have an idea about what you want to talk to about." Navarre says, his mind returning to Kathryn's image. She and the half-elf had been friends for a long time from what he had managed to fish out, and even with a light tension between them, it seemed none of them took the big step towards a romantic relationship.

Maybe Lon Lon wanted to discuss it, which wouldn't be unexpected, right?

"But I'd rather hear from you." he completed, keeping his bright smile as he watched what seemed a shadow pass over the bard's face. He seemed anxious, different from his usual confident performing self. The matter was apparently of the utmost importance.

[Sirus]

"Listen...we're friends now, right? Comrades in arms, if nothing else. I feel I owe it to you to be open and honest, and I expect you to be honest in return.

The bard took a deep breath, and then forged ahead.

"Your guess was probably accurate. I want to know what your intentions are with Kathryn."

He held up a hand, as if to forestall an argument. "I'm not suggesting that you have to rush off and get married, or anything like that. Just tell me: how do you see her? She's clearly infatuated with you. Do you feel the same?"

Lon's voice suddenly dropped and turned harsh. "Or do you plan to use her like a piece of meat and leave her to the dogs? If it's the latter, then I suggest you leave now. I would be obliged to kill the man who broke Kathryn's heart, if she didn't do it herself."

[Caellath]

"Although I'm fairly sure everything you would need to kill me would be try to hit anyone but me with your whip." Navarre thought, before suddenly looking more serious. Lon meant business, and the swashbuckler didn't want to give off the wrong impression.

"I am actually surprised it took you so long to talk to me." he said while sighing, leaning against the tree and crossing his arms at chest-height. "To be quite frank, I wouldn't trust me either if I was in your place."

His voice was still at ease, although it had lost its playful, mischievous tone as he continued. "The point is that almost the entirety of my romantic adventures can not be called romantic. They have been more a matter of desire so far, I'm sure you must have realized by now. I never spent too much time with the women I met and tried to make boundaries clear, maybe one of the reasons that led to the love potion incident..." he said before staring directly into Lon's eyes with his own light blue ones.

"But I love Kathryn, Lon Lon. If I was in it just for the 'fun', you'd have noticed. Since I have found her, the constant feeling of emptiness that made me look for the constant warmth of different women and the thrill of being a lone adventurer subsided." "and I'll stay with her until I die, whether you like or not." were the unspoken words which reflected on his eyes, although he was fairly sure that if the Raven Queen's prophecy was right, that day wouldn't take too long.

[Sirus]

Lon stared into the swashbuckler's eyes, looking (desperately?) for any hint of deceit...and found none. The dark voice deep inside raged, but the bard smiled warmly for the first time since the conversation started.

"Good."

He realized that he had been sweating, but now that the question was out in the open, his anxiety began to subside. The fact that it was, indeed, the right answer helped.

"I didn't ask sooner because I wasn't entirely sure if you and Kathryn were simply fooling around or not. But in the bandit cave, just after we drove back that...thing...you remember what happened then, of course?"

He remembered all too well. "That was when I knew. That was when I knew that I had to ask, away from the others. And even knowing, I was strongly tempted to simply steal away in the dead of night, forget the whole thing ever happened. But there was no way I could do that to any of you."

He pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and used it to wipe his sweaty brow, doing his best to hide his turbulent emotions and not succeeding as well as he'd like. "Kathryn is my oldest and dearest friend. If being with you makes her happy, then who am I to stand in the way? Just know that I...I cannot and will not stop caring for her. That's all."

[Caellath]

That had been expected. Navarre had been slightly disconcerted at first when he started to court Kathryn, worried if he was disrupting her relationship with Lon. Even if they were friends and not lovers, the swashbuckler knew what it could have been, and all that would be needed was probably a spark.

It had also made him uncomfortable to a degree from time to time, as if he had bashed into a love that just needed time to grow. If Lon and Kat had confessed to each other, Navarre would probably had found them living happily together and probably leave the group to keep searching for a woman that could never appear in his life; a sour taste had some times reminded him his advantage over the bard could be only the fact the swashbuckler had been the first to be sincere with his feelings.

But even then, his resolve was steely. He loved Kat, and he felt he could make her happy as long as he lived, or die while trying to. Even his doubts had disappeared with his visit to the temple alongside her. She was sure of herself and her love was pure. Kathryn had made it clear he was not just a replacement for the love that-could-have-been with Lon.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, my friend." Navarre said, pulling the half-elf towards him with an arm and tapping his back. "I won't apologize, though. You can't blame me for loving her." He had to step over Lon's feelings during his own romantic pursue, but he wouldn't apologize for loving the same woman the bard seemed to love.

[Sirus]

"No more than you could blame me, friend. And I'm happy for the both of you" Lon replied, returning the gesture.

"Well, I think that covers everything I wanted to say. Could I ask just one favor of you? Please don't tell anyone about this conversation. I would not be known as a weepy, love-sick bard." He said it breezily, but that wasn't his true fear. If Kathryn felt that she'd have to choose between her friend and her love because of some clumsy second-hand confession, he feared that it would break her heart. That was something he would not be able to live with.

"It's late. You should probably get some rest; who knows what will happen tomorrow?"

[Doomblade187]

Jax sat inside the dark room, looking at his blades. He hadn't left the group that last time, as they were entering the cave for another breakdown, as they had thought. No, he had gone off to try something. When he was outside the bandit cave, guarding, a lone orc had stepped out to confront him- Jax had expected something of the sort might happen, hence him being out here. The orc had walked rather calmly down the hill, facing him squarely- Jax drew his knives.

The orc then shouted something in basic common- "I will make you pay for my brother," or the gist of it anyway. Then he charged. And Jax waited. Blocking the slash of the crude falchion with the inner curve of his kukri, he had stabbed his dagger out in a thrust, right to the orc's gut. That should have been it- the orc was collapsed from his gut wound, on the ground, helpless. Jax should, under any civilized circumstances, mercifully finished him. But that wasn't what he was there for. No, instead, Jax knelt down by the orc and pulled him to his feet.

"Do you know the god I serve, orc?" he asked in a calm, even tone. "No," was the vehement reply. "His name is Armok, god of blood," Jax said back, his mouth twisting into a cruel grin. And then, he gave the orc his sword back, and allowed him to begin again. This time, it was a gargantuan slash to the right arm and a stab to the upper chest. This time, the orc wouldn't get back up, but kicked at him- a slash to the legs discouraged that. And then, Jax knelt down, raised his kukri, and cut. "Accept my sacrifice, Armok, for I give it to you with all my heart." He stood up, took the heart, and burned it in a small fire to rid the evidence.

Ignoring his mind's protests as he dragged away the body to by that of its comrades, he turned and entered the cave.

This had all happened- he had long since gotten over the mental conflict, which was getting weaker with each fight. And now he looked at his blades, freshly cleaned, turned, and walked out the door into the light of day. They may not know how he served Armok, but they didn't need to- that would just make his job harder. As an afterthought, he noted to himself- I have got to get a proper knife to replace that weird one I bought.

[raptorfangamer]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Mordgard Levels upper.
gains 11 health (now 34) (at the start of the session where I quit)

Took a level in fighter
3 intimidate
BaB now +3
Fort save
3
Ref save
1
Will save
1

[¿Mordgard learnt: cleave?]

[Yoink]

Nouzu Gak Ovak has reached Level Three!
Now third-level monk.

Hp raises by 8 to 19.
Gained feats: Weapon Focus(Nunchaku).
Still Mind[Monk].
+2 Diplomacy, +1 Climb, +1 Use Rope.

Despite the damage inflicted by the undead creature, Nouzu continued to practice tirelessly with his nunchaku after seeing just how deadly they could be. As the rest of the group reached the town and wandered off towards the shops, Nouzu hung back on the outskirts, relishing a chance to further train his skills.
A crowd of curious children surrounding him at one point, until eventually one young boy decided to chuck a rotten apple at the 'ugly green bastard'. Without breaking stride, Nouzu incorporated this into his routine; he swatted the apple out of the air, sending it soaring off out of sight.

The brats kept their distance after that, and the goblin completed his regimen, feeling far quicker with the weapon than when he started.

[Dwarmin]

That night, before the attack...

Kathryn smiled, her head laying on Navarre's strong chest-his hand on her hip. Oh Yes, Life was good. She could feel his heart beating-strong, vibrant. Beating a bit faster now. She liked to make his heart race-feel it's blood thunder under her long fingers-sometimes imagining the act as giving him a few moments of immortality to spend with her-of course, he did the same back.

The moment, was all they needed. A seeing glass into eternity.

Even the small moments were without peer...and yet...there was a subtle disquiet. The hard part of any relationship came after the passion simmered to a low boil-where words 'honesty' and 'commitment' could become shackles that weighed them down-or they could be the keys, that unlocked gates to higher plateaus...

"...And yet, I know so little of your past, Navarre...are you comfortable telling me, yet? I've wondered. You talk in your sleep-and the words you sometimes say...very odd. Burn the ears, they do. What language, I don't know...

Hmm, Let's make a trade, then-you tell me a story of yours, and I'll tell you one of mine."

[Caellath]

Navarre smiled widely as he rested with Kathryn by his side, her head resting on his chest. Life had been kind to him these last weeks, and travelling with the group of adventurers had seen him not only honing his skills with incredible speed, but also, and more importantly, had him find someone to love.

When Kathryn offered her trade, Navarre didn't blink or falter in his smile. After all, it was one of the things he had been waiting for and he was surprised that hadn't happened sooner, just like the conversation with Lon Lon.

"Well, I'll tell you a story then. Do not get upset if it happens to be vague, there are some reasons to it that are out of my control." he says with a chuckle before continuing. "Once there was a kid, born to a family of peasants, who dreamed about doing more in his life aside from helping his parents with hard work in the fields, cutting wood, weaving baskets and cooking. His family was poor, but he had heard tales of men who fought monsters and villains valiantly, sword in hand and courage in their hearts."

His eyes shifted their gaze from the ceiling to Kathryn as he talked, giving her a wink.
"In what little free time he had, he mimicked those men, fighting imaginary enemies with a tree branch. Of course that was not enough, and in his small adventures around the house and the neighbouring village, he was invited by a very kind person, who seemed to have taken a liking to him. It was a young woman who was called a witch by some of the villagers. Of course the boy didn't care about it, since he got good soup and company out of it. He even asked her if she was a witch, but she admitted to it and that was so natural he didn't mind it."

"In due time, she asked if he wanted to learn new things, that could help him to fulfill his dreams of being an adventurer. He promptly accepted, and was slowly taught two languages that made nearby people feel chills crawling on their spines. Of course he noticed it and decided to keep quiet about the matter. Days passed by, and as he got older the woman didn't seem to age even a bit, maintaining her promise of teaching him interesting things every time he went there."

His visits to her continued until the day the boy's father died, one day after his mother, both struck down by sickness. The boy was already a teenager, but he ran to the woman's house and watching her preparing to leave the village, fell into her arms, crying. She calmed him down and promised they could meet someday, finally giving him an old sword and telling him it was time for him to make his own path."

"I watched as she disappeared in the horizon as if the air itself took her existence away from me. Then I turned back and never returned to my village." he finished, putting one of his hands behind his head.

[Dwarmin]

"So entertaining. I hope the boy grew up to be a hero, like he wanted to." Kathryn murmured, tracing her finger across his chest, smiling.

"Since it's only fair, let me tell you a story as well.

Once upon a-bye, there was a little girl, with hair black as a Ravens wing-she was born she knew not where, but those who loved and raised her said that her family had given her up so she might live a better life, that she might fulfill her potential. She did not like to lose-and always, in play and competition, did she endeavor to perfection. The girl learned much, and worked hard in the Chapel where they lived-her brothers and sisters in black-cooking, cleaning, learning chants, incantations, preparing daily prayers. She had also heard the tales-and in her heart, she one day wished to use Magic, and become a powerful Sorceress-to be unbeatable. She had another, secret dream. To find her real family-and make them proud of her."

She paused a moment, eyes wandering.

"The girl became a young woman, and she did learn much-but so far to go, she grew impatient. There are always shortcuts to greatness, one could take-and she was very nearly tempted by a handsome stranger with eyes as black as coal to take it. For the longest time, she wavered. He offered her everything she had ever wanted-power, love, victory. All in her grasp. But the cost was heavy...and she wavered.

Time passed. The young woman was in fetters as to her decision-and, she eventually grew restless to see and know her family, hoping it would have some insight. She made a magical disguise and watched them from afar, using her skills and guile. They were simple folk-farmers, wood cutters, basket weavers. She left without greeting them, content they were safe and happy without her. The Young Woman would occasionally watch them, as the years went by. Never revealing herself, but helping them in small ways. In this way, she was content.

The young woman then realized, she did not like who the gift would make her-terrible, cold, pitiless. She vowed to learn how to fight with her body as well as her mind, so that she would not lose her essence of self-she would remain simple, and happy-like her family. Some say she was a fool, other enlightened...but it was her choice, in any case. The Man and his gift were shunned-and he grieved, for though she had not meant it, the woman had broken his heart. She did not mean to-but broken it was, and there was no undoing it. Should ever they meet again, he said, there would be a terrible reckoning.

Yea, her heart was bending at the revelation, but it never broke-for she had loved him too, for a time-and the rejection hurt her as much as he. She left the Chapel with fury and passion in her heart-and a blade strapped on her back-challenging the world to throw everything it could at her, and the challenge was oft accepted and delivered.

I did not lose very often. It took me many years to realize, though, that the Victory I so often sought was almost meaningless..."

She paused to kiss him.

"...without someone to share it with. That is the moral of the story, and one I learned well."

[Caellath]

"I liked that story very much, especially the end, but..." Navarre pokes Kat's hip and smiles mischievously. "Have you left behind any more broken-hearted men I should be aware of?"