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Post by Harrier Wren on Dec 27, 2016 2:10:00 GMT
The ruins of Pakellan boasted no place more run-down or opulent than this room. Ten years ago it had been the Emperor's harem. Tattered, brilliant silk and the dust of peacock feathers, massive chandeliers askew, wine from the deadly palace subbasements. Now the room served as a gathering place for the unusual. His Majesty's desk, carved from the cross section of a gargantuan tooth, the desk from which he had decreed life and death, had been dragged in for cards. The cards were his as well, or at least they'd belonged to the Imperial household. Each card might have been worth a small fortune once, before a decade of use. The gilded, padded chairs were likewise priceless and decrepit.
The game had been underway for a while. The table held stacks of silver and gold coins worth only their weight as bullion. Gems both fitted and loose. Articles of clothing - Harrier was down to an opaque slip and her boots. Curious weapons. Lead-sealed bottles that moaned. Tattered maps. Unbound books that hemorrhaged eye-watering pages. Bags of fragrant spice from the Free Cities. Deeds to dubious mansions. Engraved human skulls.
The trove dominated the middle of the table, or sat in portions before the players. At this point, anything could happen.
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Post by Velaeri on Dec 27, 2016 2:30:52 GMT
Across from Harrier Wren two keen blue eyes regarded the woman over a peculiar curved and tiered wooden shelf display. It had three rows and slots for cards, each row holding a selection, around which sat a material blinder of woven linen to keep the other participants from peeking. Care had been taken to arrange the cards appropriately, though given the current method of the game - appropriate wasn't exactly the theme for the evening.
Vela turned her head to the right and eyeballed her hand, neck plummage ruffling. With a slow, purposeful swish of her tail that sent an old antique table tumbling across the back end of the room, the giant gryphon reached around to her saddle bag and from within it plucked a new object to add the to pile.
It dropped from her massive beak with a hefty thunk. Coins scattered, gems tinkled. It rocked back and forth for a moment, black mottled surface gleaming under the candelabras, before coming to a strange and sudden still.
1 dragon egg.
The gryphon was feeling cheeky.
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Post by Harrier Wren on Dec 27, 2016 2:50:26 GMT
Harrier stopped breathing. A dragon's egg, whether by hatching potential or as barter, could purchase or procure any kind of life she wanted. Security. Respect. Grimoires. Actual material possessions. New boots. And perhaps, just maybe, readmission to her home city of Elbion. Half-formed possibilities danced through her mind. They were silly thoughts, in their way, but nonetheless compelling. She could take the egg back to the Foard, pretend she hadn't spent the last few years wandering Ardell as a covert necromancer, and beg for reinstatement. She could hatch the thing, wait a while, and ride a dragon into town, just daring the city guard to forbid her from taking back her old family house. Who would say no to a dragon ridden by a master wizard, even a low-grade master? Carrot, stick, and a million possibilities in between. The egg could get her home. She glanced up at the gryphon's limpid eyes and knew she'd been read comprehensively. "This," she said, pulling a wax-sealed scroll from one of her bags, "is an account of a successful journey along the entire length of the Darkwood Road. Hiding places, safe shelters, the locations of hazards." Useless to a gryphon, but plausibly of worth to the others at the ivory table.
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Post by Pierre on Dec 27, 2016 5:43:54 GMT
Pierre sat at the tablet with a picturesque grin on his face. He had come following a lovely young lady promising him a night of adventure. She lay dead now in some ally, and her blood, mixed with rum, filled the ivory cup with silver and ebony bandings on the handle that he now drank from. It was a potent drink that actually steamed slightly as he sipped it, mixing with the blue-grey smoke of his cigar. The leather jacket he always wore lay across the back of the moth-eaten chair, and his red eyes twinkled as he tapped the faded gilt of a card. This lady across from him spoke with spirits, he could feel it. But how was different from him, and that is where his knowledge ended. The map was mostly useless to him, being unable to read. But that egg? Dragon's life force and soul were worth more than his by far, far cries. Might be his ticket out of his contract. It was worth an ante to see how the cards turned. So he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a flower that fit exactly the description as one would expect a fully bloomed delicacy to fare inside the breast pocket of his coat. It's petals were a shade darker than his ashen skin himself. But as he put it on the table in front of him he drew his lips back in a sneer and obviously bit the corner of his left cheek, spitting blood onto the flower. It hissed as if water had hit a hot stone, and perked up, looking suddenly much less worn and tired. Almost as if still on the vine. That would prove it was what he said it was to those at the table, and he smiled even broader as a throbbing baritone voice rumbled out from deep within his chest, the cigar clenched in the corner of his mouth, left side. "Pierre bids a Black Lotus from beyond the Eastern Sea. Is real, as you can see..."
Harrier Wren | Velaeri
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Post by Anya Loma on Dec 27, 2016 18:15:14 GMT
The wanderer pushed into the bar area, she spotted something that caught her eye, a game going on, she had been traveling for so long that a little fun didn't seem to bad
She moved her way to the table, she glanced at the three here, a man a woman and a gryphon, now this was a odd littke sight for the half demon
I bet a hundred coins
She said smoothly adding them to the pile
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Post by Harrier Wren on Dec 27, 2016 19:42:07 GMT
A hundred was no joke, even if the Emperor's face on them was worthless. Bullion value alone made that much coinage -- if genuine -- a serious deal. Enough to set up her own little home, maybe, if she wanted it. Enough to grease palms in Elbion.
And then there was that flower. Every aspect of her academic training and her necromantic aspirations flared up at the thought of examining a true Black Lotus, a Bloodbloom as some texts called it. The flower's unique properties whispered of resurrection and sacrificial sorcery, of rejuvenation, of stealing and repurposing the energies of life. Some sources claimed that simple taste of blood was enough to spur the remarkable revitalization. Other authorities suggested a link between the blood and the being, such that the flower's return to life drew from the energies of the donor.
To know the truth of such things, one needed to run one's own experiments. Suffice it to say, the flower distracted her from the dragon's egg, at least temporarily. She found her mouth was dry.
She looked down at her cards. Better than most hands, not as good as some. Maybe she'd carry the hand, maybe not. She thought of cheating, but her slip left little room to slide a card between skin and cloth. She had no sleeves in which to hide an ace.
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Post by theophenes on Dec 27, 2016 21:08:33 GMT
Kavin sighed and twirled a blade. Of all the work to fidn tonight, bouncer at a high-stakes poker game? The "Proprietor" had paid in advance, though. Keep it stable, make sure everyone offered their ante. The skeletal figure in leather paid more attention to the black Lotus than the otehr items offered. Although, he did know an alchemsit who'd do great thigns with a Dragon's egg. Where did the griffon manage to acquire that?
He watched the room cautiously. Should any cheat, or try to manipulate the gamd with magic, he'd do very little, in all honesty. He was mostly there to make sure the antes went back to their proprietor. A large amount of money had already been taken in for entry, and all the players had agreed earlier. Still, at this point, there was a woman in a slip running out of worthy bets, a griffon with a surprising knack for the game, an obviously mad wizard type with red eyes, and now some woman with a horn. Still, he kept his hands near a small dagger and looked at the room. The skeleton gave a raspy chuckle and walked over, setting his oddly hooked sword on the table.
"I will increase the lady's bet," he said as he pointed to the girl in the slip. "As it happens, I am looking for something useful to do. So, I offer my sword arm, for no less than a week. Should she win, I will take a portion form the stakes acordingly. Should one of you win, my services for a week. I do so love a good game...."
The Proprietor glared at him. "Of course, the tersm fo such service shoudl start in the morning, however. I have been paid for the night by our friend the proprietor. He can attest to my martial effectiveness, as he paid fifty for the evening in silver, and lent me a nice sword. Treat my contribution as an appropriate raise."
This was a dumb plan. Then again, he doubted any one of these people coudl get him killed in a week, and frankly, if he did manage to win, he'd take some portion of the coins, and share a drink with the troublesome woman. If he lsot, then he would find himself with a new partner in crime for the time being. The skeleton gave the woman a friendly pat on the back with a gloved hand. "Good luck, miss. Perhaps my raising the stakes on your behalf will makes us both a littel richer," he said as he sat down continuing to watch how the game would play out.
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Dec 28, 2016 13:28:38 GMT
Kendric glanced idly at his cards as he waited for the others to ante up. He would normally avoid his home town, except that this game ended up being regularly attended by people who had access to some rare materials, as evidenced by the darkwood map, the black lotus, and various other items pooled in the middle and sitting before everyone on the table.
He'd been able to keep everything even, as far as win/loss ratios were concerned. He'd yet to receive a truly beautiful hand, so he bid his time and wagered only what he was willing to lose. Clothing wise, he was down to his pants. His scarred, hairy chest was bare to the table, and his leather armor lay behind him on the ground. It was risky, but there was such a thing as honor among thieves and scoundrels.
Kendric looked up at each of the players and nodded. He took a single gem from his pile, one he had not bet with yet. It was slightly smaller than his fist, in a flat oval shape roughly two inches thick. Across it's face were tightly spaced Elven script, spiralling around the stone. The beauty of the stone was such that the words read the same from top to bottom no matter which side you had facing up, yet the whole of the message did not repeat at all as it wound around. Kendric assumed it was partially due to enchantment, but he hadn't been able to discern one. He did know that it held at least one secret he was privy to.
"I bet an aiudari stone. I can personally attest that it can access the secret paths of the lost Elven Kingdom of Aida." He spoke, looking each person in turn. He'd gotten it from some Elven ruins he had found while travelling for his guild. He had since refurbished the ruin and used it as a base for one of his personas. His guild used a similar traveling method to allow Noses and other guild members to traverse from one city to another, but nothing the Guildmaster had devised equaled the stability and breadth of the Elven secret paths. "I should warn, I have lost three guild mates to these roads, and they should not be traveled lightly."
He did have another stone, one he planned to keep so he could continue to map out the paths. One was all he truly needed.
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Post by Velaeri on Dec 30, 2016 4:32:41 GMT
What a gryphon would or would not have use for was not presently something of discussion. Needless to say, what many would think to hold little value to a creature like her might be worth its weight in soulgems.
Speaking of soulgems, with a hazy scraaaw, the gryphon reached into her other pack and withdrew a much smaller item to drop alongside the dragon egg. A soulgem, of course. Just a single stone but of a rare quality befitting for only the most noble of souls. Of which, upon closer inspection, one would find there to be in occupation. All things considered equal, it was the gryphon's last valuable stake to play this evening. Or at the very least, the last one she was willing to play. She eyed the most recent pieces offered and gave her hand of cards another glance with a confident ruffling of feathers peeling along her spine.
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Post by Harrier Wren on Dec 30, 2016 19:34:45 GMT
Velaeri Pierre Anya Loma theophenes Kendric Blayde Harrier licked her lips, realizing a moment too late that she'd given off a tell. You couldn't let yourself care too much about victory or loss, not if people were watching your face. Her current state of undressedness might - might - help with that so far as a couple of her fellow players were concerned. Not something to count on, though. Beside her, a gnome stopped eyeing her legs to lean forward and slap down his hand of cards -- a very decent one, slightly better than hers, but not one of the best possible arrangements. What his game might be, Harrier couldn't say, but she'd expected things to escalate a little farther first. Her mistake, apparently. Restraining a groan, she tossed her hand on the table. That was one perfectly good Darkwood route down the drain, and she wouldn't be seeing her shirt anytime soon either. "Guess this wasn't our round," she said to the armed skeleton who'd backed her bid. Irritably, she snapped her fingers, and someone came to fill her cup with the Emperor's wine. She drank deep, watching the rest of the table -- who'd won this round, who'd lost, and who actually cared. There were things on the table that anyone with half a brain would grab before running, if they won them this round. And anyone with more than half a brain would know that this crowd wouldn't react well to someone ducking out after a big win. The chance to win things back in future rounds needed to be preserved, or a place like this, a group like this, could well devolve to dangerous circumstances.
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Post by Gale Aom on Dec 30, 2016 21:04:05 GMT
So many fond memories he had of this once proud and grand city. Once he was a soldier that fought for the beliefs and values of the Empire, but that was before the uprising that had happened here. It was this city that made him who he was right now. A mercenary scum, and how well he was at that profession.
Now here he was, playing a game of cards with some misfits that he could care less about. Was he a gambler? Not really, as it was a hit-or-miss hobby that could either give you fortunes or leave you in bad state than what you were already in. And quite frankly, Gale was in a tight spot as his wages from the last bidder he fought for promised him as little as he did. Not that the employer was cheap and selfish because Gale would either slay him where he stood or just leave his employment; just that the employer was as poor as Gale.
Gambling was a last resort for Gale and would only do it when he had so little and hoped he could gain more from what he had. Then again, if things didn't went in the human's favor, he would most likely steal from the players and what they bid and make a run for it. After all, there were no laws and morals to govern their conduct in this game and city.
"I'll throw in this shield."
It was the shield from his service in the Empire's army, but he didn't had any great use of it. Wouldn't hurt him too much if he lost it in this round.
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 4, 2017 2:28:42 GMT
Kendric watched the gnome lay down his cards and quirked an eyebrow. This was usually the mid point of the game. People bid a bit more, exchanged cards with the dealer, then set down. Once a person set down their cards, everyone else had to as well. He glanced at the gnome's hand, and smiled slightly. He had literally one card higher than the gnome's hand, with the rest of his hand matching.
He laid his cards out next, chuckling wryly with a shrug towards the gnome.
"That is some tough luck there, friend." He said, then turned back to the rest of the table to see if he would win the round or receive a similar upset.
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Post by Velaeri on Jan 13, 2017 3:27:21 GMT
A low rumble murmured through the room from the direction of the the giant gryphoness, causing her to pause as she perused her hand - ears pricked backwards in attention. She swished her tail casually and clenched the cover of her cardstand within her beak, pulling it away. There came a second moment of pause as she considered her hand, still not yet revealed, and peered sideways at the makeshift stand they were set in.
A gryphon at a poker game made for some ... unique logistical challenges where card handling was concerned.
Vela leaned forward and nibbled gently at the stand, attempting to turn it and reveal her cards without crushing the wood in the same instant. It teetered precariously on the edge of the table. She tried at a different angle, ever-so-gently-
Rrrrrrrrrrooooooooowwwrrr.
Another ear flicker. That was a bit louder this time. The gryphon shifted where she lay, eyeing her belly dubiously. She turned back to her card stand and with a decisive snort pushed the entire thing over with her beak and let her cards fall exposed for all to see.
Four of a kind. Not too shabby.
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Post by Harrier Wren on Jan 13, 2017 5:34:11 GMT
Harrier's mouth twisted, and she chuckled. "If wishing and betting could improve a hand, I'd have swept the table by now." Her hand still wasn't competitive -- she'd absolutely lost her bet this round. The gnome took one look at the cards of the bearded man and the gryphon, and hissed volubly. With a final glance at Harrier's legs, he swept his limited winnings into a pouch that really should not have held even that much. He stormed away. Probably a bad move: this game wasn't known to be tolerant of folks who left. It'd have been worse if he'd won the last hand, of course, but still, more than a few dark looks chased him out of the room. This particular game wasn't Harrier's normal one, and local rules could go a long way toward screwing over experienced players. Better not to open her mouth, though, and ask the question, admitting that she didn't know if Kendric Blayde or Velaeri had won this particular hand. Not that it mattered. She'd lost this bet and had to focus on the next round.
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Post by Kendric Blayde on Jan 16, 2017 13:17:32 GMT
Harrier Wren Velaeri Gale Aom theophenes Anya Loma PierreKendric laughed aloud as the Gryphon turned her cards around. She had soundly beaten his hand, as well as the Gnome who then stormed out of the room. "That..." Kendric began, leaning forward to push the winnings over into the Gryphons winnings pile, but nodding towards the angry gnome. "...was not a smart move." He left it at that and began to pull in all the cards. He shuffled them thoroughly with deft fingers. After a few shuffles, he set the deck down in the middle and looked around. "Anyone want to cut?"
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