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    Viator Mundi

    EXP: 155,108, Level: 17
    Level completed: 18%, EXP required for next Level: 14,892
    Level completed: 18%,
    EXP required for next Level: 14,892


    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    GP
    7,753

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    34
    Race
    Telgradian
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone

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    Old dogs, new tricks. [closed]

    Closed to Storm Veritas
    Shinsou had been watching the players perched around the table carefully for a good while now. Each facial expression told of the men’s experience in the game. Some grimaced with mock incredulity, trying to throw the others off of the scent. Some of them simply stared down, not wanting to give anything away. Storm Veritas, to the Telgradian’s left, smiled before calmly gazing down at the cards in his hand, sipping his honey malt whiskey in the deliberately confident way he always did. Shinsou contemplated his next move, placing his hand face down on the table and tapping two fingers on the reverse of his cards. He knew, underneath his palm, there were three separate cards, completely unrelated in both suit and order, with the potential to lose him his thus far respectable pot.

    But he wasn’t at all worried.

    Experience told him that he could have had the worst hand in the game, but it wouldn’t matter one bit if he could bounce the other players into thinking he had a cock like a caber. Judging by the intelligence of some of the knuckle draggers at the table, it wouldn’t be a particularly difficult task.

    "Well, well! Would you look at that!", A thick set, heavily bearded wall of a man to Shinsou’s right exclaimed, throwing his hand face down proudly but being very careful to not reveal his cards. Slamming his fist triumphantly on the table, sending tremors through the room, he grinned like an Alsatian. “I’m taking this pot all night long, chumps!”

    It is easy to smile at an insult and pretend it's funny when the person insulting you is about to hose you with money.

    Shinsou glanced casually at the mound of copper and silver in the center of the table, and then to Storm on his left. The electromancer shrugged nonchalantly, folded, and took another sip of his drink from behind his own sizeable portion of the coins.

    It should have been difficult to focus. Within the steady hum of idle chatter came the regular thump of boots pounding onto the creaking timber floorboards; interrupted only by the crescendo of clinking glasses and the cheers of the revelling crowd. Indeed, some of those seated around the table started to lean in, cupping their ears to catch the bets as they rose. One folded accidentally, not realizing the bet was lower than he thought. However, Shinsou sat, his cards flat against the wood, with a cool expression.

    “I raise you fifty.”

    The calm expression never left the former Telgradian emperor’s face as he threw in his lot, pushing his silver towards the pile. Fold after fold followed in a clockwise motion around the table, until it came back to the bear-man.

    “Are you joking?! If you don’t have at least a flush, boy, you are done here! I raise a hundred!”

    Shinsou, not dissuaded by his failure to sway the lumberjack, tapped his cards.

    “You better think before you match me. The timber trade’s a little slower than usual these days, and you look like you need the money. Two-hundred."

    Tossing his own cards face down amidst the taunts and laughter around him, the Telgradian glared at his peer. The lumberjack looked flustered, and hesitated. A lot of money was on the table, a month’s wages for him, and he knew his own hand was a slight bluff. A king high pair would do okay in the early betting, but not here. His opponent had to have at least a flush to throw in two hundred.

    It took a moment before he decided to cut his losses and abandon his bluff.

    “You got fuckin’ lucky that time. What did you have?”

    Shinsou smiled. “It’s not what I had that matters, it’s what I have now that’s important. Which, by my count, is two hundred pieces heavier. Thanks for playing.”

    The lumberjack slammed his fist into the table, and exited to raucous, mocking laughter.

    You can all laugh, but he’s human, same as you, Shinsou thought quietly to himself, By the time tonight’s done I’ll have had you all paying for my board here.

    Taking the deck in his palm, after sweeping his coin mountain into a leather bag next to the table, Shinsou tossed cards back and forth until the next game was set and ready. Three card brag had never really been his forte, but Storm had taught him well from their time travelling together when there was nothing to do between marches. Of course, his wily friend had been careful not to teach him everything, but that was to be expected. That was the way things worked between them; a relationship of trust and independence, guidance without handholding, and progress without intrusion. It was something Shinsou had given a lot of thought to, and he had hoped that his latest idea would sit well with the skilled electromancer and follow the same template. As everyone slid their cards into their hands and began their methods of misdirection, the Telgradian shot a glance left to Storm, who was trying to get the attention of a particularly top-heavy waitress for a top-up.

    “I know this is a bit out of the blue,” Shinsou started, folding his cards inside his palm, “but can you meet me at the Citadel tomorrow morning? There’s something I want to show you.”

    As he was about to deal the next game, a tap on his shoulder distracted him. He turned his head and shot a glare at the man stood over his shoulder.

    ”What’s up, Arius? I’m playing here.”

    A pair of hazel eyes appeared from beneath a pair of gold rimmed spectacles, unfazed. From beneath his brown leather robes, he handed over a beige, folded note.

    “It’s ready. Well, sort of. You need to give it the finishing touches.”

    Shinsou looked around the table, and sighed, placing the deck in front of Storm.

    “Excuse me. See you tomorrow, and try not to be too hungover, yeah?”

    He got up from the table, slinging his weighty coin sack over his shoulder, and unfolded the note between his finger and thumb. The handwriting was his father’s; the paper looked as if a spider had fallen in a vial of ink and scurried across the page. He held it up to a nearby lamp, and read it quietly in his mind.
    Last edited by Shinsou Vaan Osiris; 06-04-2019 at 05:16 PM.

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