What an evening he muttered to himself, aloud, though he was smiling broadly.
“Damn, girl, you killed my King!” he laughed, and Bexly smiled back at him broadly.
It had been a strange kind of night. He had tried to talk to the hunter, Baraque, and thought that he had found his pressure point, but it hadn’t worked. Still, he had a problem he needed to solve, and he would find a way. Taking a look at the remaining 3 cards in his deck, he slid another one into combat, face down. Bexly had played a Knight previously, and he thought he would have her in this round.
They were playing Fiefdoms. A card game he had picked up on his travels and found it intriguing. It was a simple system, mixing chance, bluff and wit. Chance selected your cards in your hand, but you had to play the person in front of you. The rules were not too hard to follow. And hands could be as big or small as you wished them to be.
They were playing 4 cards for a quicker game. She was attacking and had chosen the ‘martial’ skill stat. His King had a stat of 1, and her Knight had the highest of 5, and eliminated his card. Now it was his turn to attack. He selected his Captain card. Beautifully painted, with a man, stood upon a battlement, barking orders, clad in a flowing white cloak with a rather unnecessarily tall helmet on his head.
He pushed it forward, face down, and looked in her eyes, convinced she would not change her card. The Knight had a strong stat selection, but he thought he would have her in this one. “Charisma” he grinned, selecting the stat category.
In retort, she grinned at him, sliding it away from him, putting the knight back in her deck, face down. “Can I change?” she chuckled, before sliding another one in front of him, face down.
Oh. That had stumped him, and he had not expected the counter. Still, he knew that the Knight card was in her remaining cards, so that was an advantage to him. Still, he had a strong base stat for charisma of 3, so he still had a chance.
“Reveal” he smiled, to which she grinned, and turned over a card that made his eyes widen, and he grinned, beaten again. It was a man, with a feathered hat, reading from a scroll. The Emissary. Drat. A charisma statistic of 4.
“Oh, heavens, you’ve done me in again!” he laughed, before drinking his cider. It was her drink of preference, and he had decided to share a jug with her. He had found her very pleasant company. She was a messenger, from Trestlebridge, and had come into town to deliver a message for the Watch. He had told her things about him, and she had responded in kind and talked with him too. All in all, it had been a pleasant evening.
He discarded his card and was just about to select another of his remaining two, before the door swung open.
“Oiii! You! Ye bastard!”
He looked at the door as it had flung open and sighed as he saw who it was. Balnirar.
God damnit. Just as the evening had begun to be enjoyable after he had been threatened at knife point, and this battering ram appeared. But so did someone else…
He smiled to himself. Suddenly, his previous problem may have presented him with another solution.
