All I wanted was to have a nice, relaxing evening with cards and some good frie--well, I was hesitant to call Red a friend. Acquaintance, business partner, somebody I don't necessarily hate to be sure; but lately, friend was a bit of a stretch. Especially with her complete shift in attitude. And Lichensith definitely was not a friend. Or any of the other terms that could be used to describe his second in command.

We had a fourth person pull up a chair, even. John Cromwell. I knew the guy from a brief tussle in the Citadel on an over-sized chessboard. Monster of a man, over seven feet tall with arms wrapped in polished metal. Couldn't miss him, or forget him for that matter. Heard he was a smith, as well. I nodded at him, and he returned the gesture.

I had the first hand dealt. Gold coins started dropping into the middle of the table. Bets were being called and raised. "Ten," I muttered absentmindedly as I fished through my pockets for my gold pouch. I was all-in on playing for fun; but, hey, if Red wanted to see everyone lose the unwashed, mud-flecked shirts off their backs, that was fine by me.

I'd take her bra too, while I was at it.

But that's when things went to hell.

I set down the deck, picking up my hand and flicking through it. Each card passed by another with a crisp snap as I took stock of my hand. Two Jacks, a seven, a nine, and a four. Three different suits. It's the opening hand, I'm not going to tap into the magic of the cards and change it into something that's guaranteed to win the pot. Let them think they have a chance. Build up their confidence a bit, then tear them new assholes in the later round.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a grubby little mitt reach up from under the table and snatch the deck. In a flash, a small child with messy blond hair bolted out from underneath--was that the little brat that Hype made friends with?--and immediately ducked into the crowd.

I was out of my chair in an instant, throwing my hand onto the table, nearly knocking over one of my drinks in the process. "Get back here, you little shit!"

The back of the chair barely hit the floor before I rushed into the jumble of patrons. Little n'urd stole my enchanted deck--and I was going to get it back. It was probably worth more than he was. Enchantments aren't cheap nowadays.

Bits of the crowd parted as I sprinted after him. I heard a bark of some sort--sparing a moment's glance to catch that Philomel's little fleabag fox joined the fray, keeping pace with the tiny fucker and snarling at anyone who dared stop them.

Veridian and I never really liked each other, but the last time he got in the way he swallowed a burst of acid for his troubles. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, to get my cards back. I could just buy the faun a new pet, anyway. What do foxes go for nowadays, five gold? Depending on the season? Plus medical expenses after the traps are taken off their legs?

The scrawny little bastard was starting to gain distance. We nearly completed a full lap around the tavern when I decided to say fuck it. Pulling my gloves off and tossing them to the ground, I extended a couple thick vines from my wrists. The green tendrils snaked through the air at incredible speed at the boy, aiming to wrap themselves around his ankles and trip him up.