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“It would make more sense if you were a paladin.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Do you have any better ideas, Nav?”
“Yeah, ‘fighter’.”
“Why is that?” Harrow remarked as if her words could cut through flesh.
Luckily, Gideon had a sudden shield of smugness. “Cavalier is a subclass for fighters.”
Harrow opened her mouth, but briefly decided to close it again, then opened it like a fish. “Well, I guess so.” she muttered, as if it were a wonder of decision.
Harrow became awfully quiet, deciding to leave her responses adrift in the air while she rummaged through the pile of papers and cardboard. “Alright, here is the board.”
Harrow placed down a rather large and intricate cardboard flat field of painted hills, crops, and different buildings that had looked squished together.
“Each space is about ten feet.” she explained. “This-” she quickly rummaged through a seperate box. “-is you.”
Placing down a bland, grey figurine holding a sword and donned with heavy armour, she pulled out a book. “You have your character sheet, I’m guessing.” Harrow didn’t bother to look up from her papers.
“Of course.” Gideon smiled and handed her a very rough and ragged piece of parchment. Harrow took it, glanced at it, and Gideon watched as her sour expression grew.
“Dear lord, how much did you erase on this thing?” some pieces of eraser shavings fell when she grasped the corners.
“You only gave me one.”
“White-out, Griddle.”
“Ehn.” Gideon loosely shrugged. “It leaves your fingertips sticky.”
Harrow didn’t respond, only moving onto the next statement she could make about Gideon’s graphite and ink-smudged sheet. “Does your character even have a name? You just left it blank.”
“I didn’t have time.” Gideon explained. “You wanted to start at 2:30, so here I am.”
“Yes. Here you are, with a dirty player sheet and no character name.” Harrow didn’t seem too short on her disappointment, even when playing a board game.
“I am here, though.” Gideon made sure to make her voice ooze pride, which did not result in any beneficial matter besides Harrow noticeably pinching the sides of the page as if it were the bridge of her nose.
“What are you going to name your character?”
Gideon sat in thought, thinking of something that would stick. There had to be a name that called out to her, that shined above the rest in the endless void of her mind. She searched in the deepest crevices of her thought, digging in the greatest places to find the very essence of a great name.
“Gideon Nav.” she said.
“You are not naming your character after yourself.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s stupid.”
“You are the one who invited me to play. I also spent soooo long on this character sheet, I did exactly as you said and you decide to throw out my creative input-”
“Fine, fine! Gideon Nav it is.”
Gideon leaned back in her chair, holding back the need to place her feet upon the table. Harrow begrudgingly wrote down Gideon's name onto the paper. She then took out a small case, unzipping it and revealing a very formal arrangement of twenty-sided dice, along with several other sided pieces. They were covered in black with thin white swirls covering the numbers. Harrow ignored Gideon’s raised eyebrows, taking it in as some kind of compliment that she pretended to be unaware of.
“Are you ready to st- get your damn boots off the table! Anyways-” Harrow inhaled, composing herself into immersion. “You are the noble swordswoman of the ninth house, spending your days in a cell within Drearburh. Nuns wander outside and from your opened windows you see fields of attended crops being hosed down and gathered by hollow skeletons.”
Gideon began to scratch her nails into the small dents on the table.
“You look in the mirror, your face is painted with dark ash and smudged white, lines of makeup paint your features and draw down to your mouth, dark rings around your eyes.”
“-and I have bright red hair, shaved at the sides and it looks amazingly hot-”
“You do not have bright red hair, shaved at the sides and look amazingly hot.”
"Why not? I feel like you are limiting my control here.”
“ I am in control of this world, and you are not. It’s simple enough that a baby would understand it.”
“I think a baby would rather lie in it’s own piss and shit than play your game, but you can go ahead.”
“As. I. Was saying..” Harrow sighed. “Your bright red hair glows with shadows and slivers of light, illuminating its colour. You glance at the sword upon your bed, the blade leaving the shadow of an arrow within the covers.”
There is a silence that fills the room before Harrow glares at Gideon, most likely a sign of either randomised distain or need for her input, it wouldn’t matter either way.
“Oh- I look out the window.”
“I already described what was out the window.”
“Alright, I sit on my bed and read Frontline Titties of the Fifth."
“No."
“I read Frontline Titties of the Fifth." Gideon repeated.
“You gain five psychic damage and read the magazine.”
"Then…” Gideon pretends to scratch her chin in thought. “I walk out of my cell with my sword by my side.”
Gideon thought she almost saw, not a wave, but a slight ripple of relief on Harrow’s face.
“You walk through the halls, light flickers above you while you guide yourself through the rubble. You walk into the main hall and are met with none other than the reverend daughter of the ninth.”
Harrow had revealed another figurine, Gideon raised a brow and glanced under the table for some magical box that Harrow had to be getting these figures from. The figurine was of a sorcerer with black hair and decorated in bones. It was more than obvious that Harrow made it herself, although the customization was not shabby in the slightest. Gideon smirked. “Why, hello, reverend daughter of the ninth house. I thought I would never see you again.”
"What a surprise to see you here-” Harrow hesitated. “ Gideon, swordswoman of the ninth.”
"I have come to escape this dreary place, and leave the kingdom behind to rot. I will live a life of freedom once I begin my journey.”
“You speak too soon, swordswoman. The reverend daughter rattles with the ribs and knuckles that cover her coat, waist, and fingers. I will let you free, under these conditions… You must duel me.”
“What happens if you win?”
“If I win” Harrow started. “You must become my knight and lead me to immortality, a life of power.”
“I unsheath my sword.” Gideon leans in. “Alright, have it your way, reverend daughter.” then clasps the edge of the table. “I roll to attack… to… hit her with my sword.”
Harrow gestures to the dice, eyeing Gideon as she picks up the small piece and cups it between her hands, juggling it and then releasing onto the table.
Sixteen.
“You swing your sword at her, getting a slice of blood on her cheek. You do five slashing damage to the reverend daughter. She falls back and hot red crimson runs down her chin to her neck. Suddenly, she whispers a curious, undecipherable phrase, causing the boney hands of skeletons to crumble and break through the cracks in the ground. The skeletons grab at your ankles, and you are now grappled.”
“What the hell, this is literally my first session.”
"Are you scared of a challenge?”
“No, I just think you are a bad storyteller.”
Harrow, surprisingly, looked genuinely offended. “What do you do now?”
Gideon glanced at her character sheet, nothing but low numbers and high strength, there was not much she could do, even if she wanted to. She thought about it carefully, if she were to keep rolling for slashing damage, she would eventually wound the reverend daughter down, on the other hand, that would take far too much time and Gideon wanted to get straight through Harrow’s tactics.
“I roll to… hit on the reverend daughter."
Harrow blinked, once, then twice. “What.”
“Yeah,” Gideon’s pridefulness had only sounded like reassurance to herself. “You heard me right.”
“I… okay... roll a charisma check..."
Gideon could almost feel the dread of her character’s situation, standing in front of the reverend-insert herself. It was a wonder how moments ago she was previously commenting on every unfair advantage and undecided narrative that Harrow had laid out, but now, her head was in the game, she was accordingly (and pleasantly) immersed.
“Natural twenty.”
“You- did you really!?” Harrow sat up quickly, knocking the chair back and loomed over the table. Her eyes locked onto the die with an engraved twenty that looked back up at her. Gideon Nav, a professional of hiding delight underneath cheekiness, had kicked up her boots onto the table once more. She could see Harrow’s eye twitch, along with the corner of her mouth as she began her regular routine of opening it and closing it again.
“We could settle this back in my bed, daughter of the ninth."
Harrow sank back into her chair, defeated. Gideon watched as her facial expressions morphed into what could only be read as ‘how do I even go about this’-face. Finally composing herself, she spoke. “The reverend daughter approaches you slowly, holding you in place with the grip of the undead." Harrow held back any contempt, it was surprising how dedicated she was to the immersion. "Are you sure you want to be asking such things of a person like me... think of the scandal, Gideon."
Gideon was almost taken aback at hearing Harrow call her own name, especially in such a, well, tantalizing piece of voice acting. She quickly jumped back into character, suave. "Let them talk, after all, it will give the houses something to talk about."
"You are a brave swordswoman to be tempting me into such things."
"It is only fate. As soon as I saw you, I was captured within your beauty, the remarkable aura of your confidence, the force you had when raising the bones from ash, the power in your eyes and fire that bloomed within that darkness. I ask this, your highness, would you like to come with me, to rekindle that fire? After all, we have centuries to ourselves, and by grace I think that I would do just about anything to spend an eternity with you. Only then, I will be free, within your arms, holding you close and tight to keep yourself safe for all days long. I do not doubt your strength, Harrowhark, I simply worship it."
There was suddenly a deafening silence, Gideon could almost hear the creak of Harrow's eyelids shooting up slowly into the back of her head.
"I... I didn't say this NPC was named... Harrow..." Harrow spoke.
Gideon felt as if she took a hundred psychic damage.