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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He watches as they start dragging firewood underneath a tower for their challenge, tutting at their efforts.

"What do you have there? A king or - something like that?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It depends on where you are. Baldur's Gate has a council of four Grand Dukes, elected by the Parliament of Peers - fifty 'trusted citizens'," he's not quite using airquotes, but he's got opinions about how trustworthy the Parliament actually is. "As far as I know, the first Parliament was selected by the Council, and vacant seats are usually handed down to the heirs of whoever vacated them."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He isn't surprised. "That kind of thing breeds corruption and complacency. Why work for the people when you know the power is going to be there no matter what?"

One of the teams has managed to get the wet Amazon rainforest wood to light, at least.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Precisely. A quarter of their number are drawn from the Lower City, apparently so that the 'normal people' are represented, but even those quarters have some pockets of impressive wealth. And strangely, joining Parliament tends to make one wealthier still," he drawls. "It might have been an ambition of mine to become a member, at one point."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Mm, then you'd be even more of a fancy little fucker," he mutters, tightening that arm around his waist.

"It's why I lead the way I do. If any of my soldiers could best me, then they deserved whatever they wanted. The strong survive."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Was that something they did often? Try to best you - gods, these people just don't know how fires work, do they?" he adds, frowning at the screen.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Nope," he says to both questions. "And not everyone can make fire by magic. Plus, the wood's wet from the rainforest. They chose the wrong wood and don't have a stockpile of dried branches."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Even I know you need fuel you can burn," he grouses. "If we used magic to help this process along at camp, it was more often to dry the wood than to create the spark."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Hm. Look at you, getting dirty in the dirt," he teases. One of the fires start to catch and burns through the rope above it. Two more ropes to burn and that team will win.

"And now they're going to out more wood on it and smother it because they're idiots."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I hated every moment of it, I assure you," Astarion says. "Damned near four months trekking across the Sword Coast and I was in a leaking tent for three of them - oh, you were right."

More damp wood, more smoke, less fire.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Told you."

They're so predictable. He gets too annoyed watching them fail and instead decides to press a kiss against Astarion's neck.

"What did you do for the other month?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"We were back in the Gate by then. Finally able to bargain for a roof over our heads - the rooms above a tavern in the Lower City. Not the most restful of locations, but at least I didn't have to worry about a bear bumbling into my tent."

Halsin notwithstanding.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"But a real bed must be better than a cot. To you."

The other team finally figures their shit out and the ropes burn easily, so he's happily to return his attention to it.

"I miss being out in the woods. I need to teach you about glamping."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Glamping?"

Faerûn isn't quite as big on portmanteau as Earth.

"Sounds terrible. What is it?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"I don't really know. Glamorous camping. Not a leaky tent, but a comfortable uh...yurt? Big tent with all the amenities inside. Big bed, comfortable shit. Electricity with air and heat."

The kind of shit Jacob despises, but he's willing to make this exception.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Sounds tolerable. And you'd be outside hunting wild animals so it's still authentic enough for you?" he teases.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah. Making a fire the right way. Sitting in a tree all day. But I wouldn't mind an actual bed. Camping in a leaky tent is fun, but not when you're in the comfortable bed."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I'm much better company when I haven't thrown my back out by resting on the cold earth," Astarion teases, kissing his cheek. "I'd tempt you down from any tree you vanished into, darling."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"What do you know about throwing your back out, huh?" he snorts, pushing the screen back a little. "You just fix it with a little magic."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I don't know a single healing spell," he protests. "What I did was ask the cleric in our party to fix it on my behalf, at which point she'd sniff at me about having to save her magic for the heat of battle."

More likely he'd chug a healing potion instead of bothering her at all, but that's not as fun to talk about.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Which one was that? Don't think you've told me about her."

Though he doesn't recall many names other than Gale.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Shadowheart," he says. "...I know. Awful name. She chose it for herself when she was too young to know better, I believe. Though her goddess was equally preoccupied with the dark and bleak."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Oh boy. That sure is a name for someone who dresses in black.

Jacob tries not to say anything about it. "And she was a cleric? So she healed and prayed?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Indeed. Though she wasn't useless in a fight, either - perfectly capable of smiting monsters when the occasion called for it. The gifts of a cleric's object of devotion can be quite diverse."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Sounds real handy."

The show is nearly at an end, as they didn't have to spend fifteen minutes watching commercials, so he turns his attention fully away from it.

"So she was the one who helped heal and smite. You can sneak around and cut 'em off from a ways away. What else could your people do?"