Chapter 1: The Knaves Visit the Spudfields

"Ophirae. And I'll have whatever the local wine is," Audree says in her mellifluous voice. She could have been a world-renowned singer if she wasn't also tone-deaf. She couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but many a man (and fair share of women) loved to hear her talk.

Audree untied her kerchief and let her filthy hair tumble down around her bony face. She really should wash it first, but after days on the road she wanted to relax a bit. She would also need to wash her flamboyant and colorful clothes. The way she wore them on her stout but well-muscled body made her look like a peacock who swallowed a bear. Maybe this place will have baths, she thought.

Elius was relieved to settle for a little bit in a civilized place. The last stop in a while probably.
But at least the trip was pleasant, and it was fun to play dice and cards every evening. Audree was very lively during these occasions, it reminded him of his past travels in the high seas. What a time it was. But it was another life indeed.
Though he still didn't understand why instead of waking up in his cabin three months ago, he woke up with many other sailors in a dark chapel with a loosely tied rope around his ankles. Someone was haranguing loudly, speaking of war and Elius left at the first opportunity, taking advantage of the loose watch.
He still had his nice mariner coat but he missed the sea.
At least, he found a group of down-on-their-lucks nobodies like him and until now they had been alright.

"Ale for me" he says in a dry and unpleasant sound, clumsily moving his aging body toward a stool.

Clomm peered around his taller compatriots as they entered the tavern, trying to get a sense of the place. His boyish face was expressionless despite his intense curiosity (and hope) that the food was good. His stomach grumbled eagerly, and he shuffled his rotten boots and cleared his throat to cover the noise. Clomm couldn’t stand being perceived as weak.

He ran his fingers through his thick curly mohawk, which sprung back up — giving him a few extra inches of "much needed" height. As they walked through the Bear and were eventually seated, the stiff collar of his bloodstained and too big gambeson (the man who died in it was a whole head taller than Clomm) chafed against his neck. He subconsciously pulled it down as he nestled against the table.

He judged the other diners around the inn; more importantly judged what they were eating. He never chose to be a cook, but he had a damn fine knack for it. He was always alert to anyone who might make a better meal than he could. As the stew was plopped down in front of him — a hearty concoction of chicken and potatoes — he was begrudgingly impressed and ate it quickly. Despite his small stature he ran hot, and his unusually thick torso belied that he weighed nearly as much as a man a foot taller.

"Whatever’s free," he mumbled over a slurp of his stew.

"I'm afraid all of my coin is going towards this meal and a good room tonight. I have a pair of dice I can wager..." Audree tries not to appear too eager as she hopes she can pawn off the haunted dice to this man. She couldn't throw them away since they always mysteriously turned back up in her belongings, but if the guy won the dice fair and square...

Endrei thrust his feet out beneath the table, and they emerged on the far side, up to his great, bony ankles. It had been a long trudge to get this far, and his feet ached. He was grateful for the bench beneath his bottom, which, while stiff as the boards from which it was fashioned, was a fair sight better than the meager bedroll that had been afforded him in the camp of King Markos' army. He was also grateful for the soup, especially as there had been no discussion about how much, or indeed whether, they must pay for it. The brute huddled over his bowl and spooned softened potatoes into his maw.

Endrei had arrived at the Bellowing Bear more by chance than design. He'd decided that the army life was not for him, and that he would register his displeasure by abandoning his watch in the dark of one quiet and opportune night. If the army was marching west, why then Endrei would march east, and peace be with you, sir. He'd fallen in with the others along the road, and learned from them that employment might be had in distant Ophirae. At the moment, Endrei cared only that Ohpirae was not back the way he had come.

When the innkeeper offered drink, Endrei merely waved at the ale flagon with his free hand and slapped the table, still spooning soup with the other. At the mention of coppers, the big man leaned forward and wolfed his food down faster, like a dog whose find might at any moment be snatched away.

Clomm grumbled something about keeping eyes off of him, but he only continued to eat his soup. As the stranger approached with the dice, the short cook shifted his satchel instinctively; it held his only prized possession, a massive book that granted him magical power and extreme luck. He’d rather not even be tempted to gamble it away, but... maybe he could use it?

The flickering flame in the inn highlighted his deeply scarred pocks as he contemplated how he could pay for this stew and a room for the night.

"I'll take you up on your offer. I assume we will be using your dice?"

"Color me interested!" Elius says in a loud rasp.
He had planned to feign naivety, but the prospect of a free warm meal with alcohol was sending shivers to his spine and his scheming gears were already going into motion. After all, he only had 2 coppers left.
"But what if you win?"

Endrei ignored the mustachioed fellow. Anyone who could conjure coins out the air was not someone Endrei wanted to throw dice with. Instead, as he ate-- and ate-- the giant stole a sidelong glance at the other patrons whose attention had been attracted by a wager in the offing.

Endrei's eye lingered on the man with the broad-rimmed hat and broadly disapproving lip. No gambler, that one. Endrei wondered if the local might have similar compunctions about welcoming strangers. Especially those meditating how to shirk payment for their porridge.

Clomm’s eyes glazed over as he tried to pay close attention to the gamble at hand, but without looking like he was paying too close attention.

Elius places one coin on the table before taking the dice. He checks them for anything suspicious before rolling them three times.
"Here we go ... 19" he grumbles.

Hardened by years of playing at the sea, he will then pay attention to Audree when her turn to roll comes. But he will mostly focus on this Theo fellow that he finds very suspicious and doesn't trust one bit. Elius wouldn't be surprised if he tried to cheat by swapping or loading the dice.

Audree places her haunted dice on the table. They look to be carved out of a strange green soapstone. The pips are in the shape of teeth.

"I'll wager these. I'm sure they are worth more than a few copper." She picks up the man's dice and rolls three times. "18."

Clomm finishes his bowl of stew and starts looking for more food discarded or disregarded by the others distracted by the game. He’d gambled too many times in the past and it always blew up in his face, quite literally once or twice.