"Ah yes, that one has been going around the dockside lately. Excuse me, the game I anticipated has appeared" Eran says, taking his drink and heading to the table with the scarred clergyman.
Taking a seat, he says "My name is Eran. Dice is your game, eh? An interesting one. I'll try my 'luck'" he says, his emphasis on the word underscoring his incredulity.
To recognize his markings:
Jerex becomes quite giddy when he sees (2) half-orcs and a goblin walk in. He takes out his journal and starts writing feverishly in it. He takes a break from writing, looks up, and then goes back to writing. Jerex seems to not care what happened to Samuel, he is quite content watching the humanoids walking into the Silver Dragon. He looks at one of the half-orcs and places his hand on where an orc tusk would go and then removes his hand to write more in his journal.
Jerex hears the dark complected tattooed man state his name.
Zel. Decades of a cloistered sheltered existence. It had been so long, and I'd become so old that they were starting to believe the "blessing" would not manifest. That somehow I were skipped. Fools...
Their job was to wind me up like some clockwork thing and when I showed potential to toss me into the chaos called "the world". So here I am, finally released. Zel the Black.
Wait'll they get a load o'me...
The swinging door opens and a tall man walk through, stopping to take in the room. His eyes alive, alert and critical. His robes are all manner shades of grey, a scarf of sorts wrapped several times about his neck, covering the lower part of his face.
He is unarmed and yet you think it does not matter. For upon his vestements, a curious mark, perhaps a crest. It slips your mind now, but it represents is a monastic order, tucked away in a nearby mountain pass. You don't get that here, much.
"Well I was speaking to that strange fellow staring at you across the bar, but if you're up for losing a few gold pieces, I'll be happy to give you the chance. I should warn you though, luck is on my side."
Marckus then shakes up the dice and tosses them on the table.
Going into the bar Cipher-3 studies the place carefully as he looked for his contact who would lead him to Agent-2, his contact had been described as a fat, balding man who was roughly fifty years of age. In order to get the location of Agent-2 he to say to the man while ordering specifically a black cherry wine fine day in this here good city of Magnimar eh?
perception
<<< No tattoos, fair skinned. Looks like a taller, thin monk.
Seeing Eran and the hairy creature with tusks play a game of some sort, Jerex becomes quite interested. He eagerly gets up from his table bringing his journal, other gear with him, and leaving the Elven mead behind at the table. He takes a stool while watching Eran and the Half-orc play.
The nobleman's outfit and jewelry bears the symbols of House Derexhi, a family business offering body guard services. He is obviously an aberrant being
Eran smiles, picking up his dice and shaking them in the cup. Rather than scattering the across the table, Eran places the cup top-down on the table, before slowly removing it.
"Luck is a fleeting thing," he says, looking at the way the black-painted indentations in the bone-carved cubes aligned with one another.
"Hello, stranger," Eran says to the newcomer.
Jerex is writing feverishly, looks up at Eran, then back down at his journal. Then looks up, Oh, well met, talking to me?
"Certainly. Not many come to a bar to write. Although not many come to a bar to read either, yet the little one in the corner is doing just that," he says, taking a drink from his mug.
Turning back to the half-orc, he says, "I get the feeling that learning how to play this game is going to cost me a pretty coin."
He makes a sideways glance at the unarmed newcomer covering his face, trying to place the crest he wears on his vestments.
Looking inquisitive ... "What are you two doing? What is a game? Then, he notices Eran's tattoos.
Eran's geometric tattoos look familiar to Jerex but he can not recall where he saw them, Eran, your geometric tattoos look familiar but I can not quite remember where I have seen them?
"You don't know what a game is?" Eran asks, disbelief replacing his disappointment and not being able to place the origins of the half-orc or the strange monk, "Where are you from? While I am not sure on the rules of this one, games are something done for fun. And you may have seen some of these floating around town, I do tattoos for people as a small business."
Jerex squirms a little ... "No Sir Eran, I do not? Am I supposed to?"... Jerex looks to his left then replies, "I am from Magnimar." Jerex smirks ... Jerex nods and hums, "Hmm, perhaps?"
Despite the odd words from the odd man, it was enough of an answer for Eran. Perhaps it didn't matter where the man was from. His speech pattern is odd.
"Well, it's just something that I cannot imagine someone not knowing. Children play games from an early age. Judging by your smirk, you are playing a bit of a game with me, now."
"Darsh! Allow me to explain."
- Each 2 = 6
- Each 3 = 5
- Each 4 = 4
- Each 5 = 3
- Each 6 = 2
- Three 1s = 100
- Three 2s = 20
- Three 3s = 30
- Three 4s = 40
- Three 5s = 50
- Three 6s = 60
Next round, roll any you didn't score last round. 1s cannot be scored individually.
Keep going around until someone scores their last die.
After someone scores the last, finish the round (so everyone has the same number of turns).
The first person to score their last die gets an extra 20 points.
The person with the lowest score loses.
"Luck has been with me for all my life." Marckus says with a smile.
"Ah, thanks for the run-down. Looks like my 1's weren't so bad. But more game remains." Eran takes his three dice indicating '1' and scoops them to the side. "Looks like it's your roll" Eran says, his mood restored by the knowledge that he hasn't lost... yet.
A young, dark-haired, bronzed Varisian woman sits in the corner, eying what she takes to be humans, half-orcs and a goblin. She wears a cloak, but beneath it her dress is gaudy in the Varisian style. She is adorned with cheap jewelry, loose purple leggings, a red velvet waistcoat, and intricately multi-hued scarf.
She watches their game while she shuffles a deck of very weathered looking Harrow cards.
She nods approvingly as she reads the pattern's of Marckus' tattoos, and looks with some interest at the game.
Abruptly she snatches up the cards and puts them into some hidden pocket in her waistcoat. She walks up to the table.
She speaks ardently, over-enunciating her Taldish words. "Boys, do you mind if I join your game?"
Not waiting for the answer, she picks up the dice and throws. She gets a far off look in her eyes as she rolls and throws.
One of the dice bounce on the table, and one almost magically bounces around for a minute before spinning onto a three.
"Fate seems with me today." She notes the three 3's. "At least a little"
Marckus looks at the newcomer suspiciously. "There's fate-" he rolls his own dice again, 3 this time, "-and then there's just plain magic."
Eran grabs his three remaining dice and rolls them.
Frowning, Eran slides the two sixes over to his score pile.
"Nanou" she tries to say as sweetly and innocently as possible. She is clearly dwarfed by the older, massive half-orc. "Perhaps all fate is a form of magic"
"It seems your claim to luck is no boast. I look to soon be buying you fine pagamarras a drink" She uses the orcish word for mercenaries as she talks. She places all the dice back in her cup.
"And I am Eran, but perhaps you knew that. I studied with Varisians for a bit, perhaps I have run across you before? Although perhaps not."
"Nanou? I hope I'm saying that right. And Eran, is it? Nice to meet you both. Marckus is my name, and if you need any divine services of Korada, I would be happy to oblige. Now, my turn again. Unless Nanou is ready to buy our drinks now!" he laughs again and makes a roll of two dice.
"I'm up to sixty!"
Jerex replies, "No sir Eran, I do not play games since I don't know what games were until now. So what "game" am I playing?" ... Jerex watches the woman approach and starts writing some more then looks up ... "Now, I do know about luck. Life is 90% what you make of it and 10% luck or unluckiness or a little of both. However, a handful can manipulate their luck."
Very nice guys! I'll be out of town tomorrow, and I will start doing the selection when I get back.
By that time we'll all be drunk and Nanou will be broke.
"ah, just because you don't know you are playing doesn't mean you aren't in a game. Sometimes regular folk become the game pieces of others."
Ducking in through the front door of the Inn is a very tall, imposing half-orc. His bare chest and arms are covered in (surprise!) tatooes - both sacred and profane. They too tell the tale of a unique heritage.
After a quick look around he strides to the bar and requests a cup of something stiff. He sees the white-robed half-orc in the centre of the room and, banging his cup on the board in Orc fashion, he exclaims in Skandic, the tongue of the Linnorm Kings "Hail Man of the North!" before taking a swig (a common greeting in far northern lands). He then turns toward corner booth to approach the only person in this place that strikes him as unusual.
Towering over the wrinkled goblinoid he speaks in a deeply resonating voice , "Art thou a writer of letters little goblin? Your name, your book your spectacles suggest as much. But for the life of me I cannot image what a Pughazh* would write - and what kind of music I could set it to. Surely it would be a sensation, yet- surely as the sea is deep - it would ruin my career to sing it in public, eh? Or does your work have something to prove?"
*Pughazh*
"Are you one of these "game pieces" Eran?" ... Jerex turns his attention to Khundrugar walking in and talking to the blue goblin, then turns to Marckus ... "Sir, I have not seen too many of "your kind" in the city until now. What kind of "human" are you and why is your "kind" in high concentrations in the Silver Dragon?" ... Jerex looks serious and inquisitive while asking the questions.
Malkus thinks to himself, a goblin must at least be a person of some significance if not the contact.
Malkus to Eran, Marckus, Nanau "Excellent sport I must say but I don't gamble I am afraid."
Malkus appears puzzled by Jerex's comments but not offended but doesn't answer or say anything to the comment. He does step back warding against however small the probability that Markus decides to unleash some rage on the strange fellow. He then casually walks to the other end of the bar.
Malkus approachs the scribbling goblin, but not before Khundrugar contacts he. He decides to stealthy observe their conversation and try to determine if this Mr. ... Littlemor was it is his contact.
Jerex turns around to where there was a voice but nothing is there, shrugs, and he turns his attention back to those playing the dice game.
"I don't know. I try not to be a piece in the games of others, but in this city, I probably am."
That said, Eran rolls his last dice.
Jerex nods to Eran's comments and then notates his comments in his journal.
"Excuse me? My 'kind'?" Marckus stands from his seat, flexing his broad shoulders and wrapping one hand around the other fist. "Do you have something to say to me, good sir?"
"Be calm, warrior. This one..." she gestures to Jerex "...has a mind touched by the gods. Makes one strange, to have a god-touched mind, can make you say strange things."
She passes on her roll again, and looks appreciatively at Marckus' tattoos and biceps.
"Strange that one born a warrior wears the markings of peace."
Marckus pauses, but then smiles again and takes his seat, nodding.
"Strange is it?" Marckus responds by pulling out a coin and setting it on the table. "Do two sides of a copper have the same face?" he considers saying more, but decides his meaning is probably clear enough.
"And I arrive at one-hundred and ten points. I can taste my free drink already" Eran says, content.
Zel dares not get too close to chaos these ones call 'game'. Somewhere, the result of each die is written. They revel in luck and serendipity.
He gains the attention of a serving girl. I seek a representative of House Caedmon. This is the meeting place. Water and bread would also be appreciated.
Thank you for your assistance. He passes her a silver.
Not phased by the half-orc's attempt to intimidate him but obviously a surprise which deserved an entry into the journal is necessary.
It seems that it is tradition to introduce each other by word of mouth instead of aura projection."
Jerex speaks up, "Please excuse my manners, well met all, my name is Jerex Absylon."
Game of chance is it? Do you laddies, and lady, mind if I sit in? asks a grizzled newcomer to the table. He is in sweat stained traveling clothes and is already 2 or 3 sheet to the wind. He flags down a passing server and order a round of house ale for the table.
Rivers is the game, drinkin's the name. . . err. . he looks to the ceiling, you'd guess trying to find the flaw in that statement.
I've got two coppers to rub together, what's the game and what's the stakes?
Looking up from his book, Bathis blinks magnified eyes at the hulk of half-naked half-orc at his table. He removes his spectacles and manages to crack a smile in the face of pejoratives. His voice is deeper than one might expect. Ha, no, my cousins' raiding chants are nothing but offensive and vulgar. But, some music is best performed that way, no? Bathus' grin warms, genuinely, and leans conspiratorially over the table. I believe this may be the very bar for those with things to prove. Have a seat, if you would stoop to my company, and lets trade stories. Don't mind this old book, It's only in the tongue of dragons.
"Indeed" Nanou replies to Marckus.
"Forty-six points. Yes, I will buy this round." she says sweetly She picks out a gold from her slim purse, and motions a serving-woman to take the orders of Marckus and Eran.
"Darsh is the game; the stakes are to buy the next round for these lucky ones." She withdraws from the table and watches the next round unfold.
Ethan falls into a nearby chair and scoops the dice into a roller and give them a toss, after tossing his gold on the table.
He snorts as they are totaled up.
54 points if my math is right.
Jerex looks at Ethan inquisitively, "Your name is Drinkin'? Well met Drinkin', my name is Jerex Absylon." Then notates something in his journal.
As the girl sets down the bread and water, she shakes her head.
The bread is filling, the water slakes his thirst.
The madness is contagious. And a special manner in which to count things... Makes them feel in control.