“Nah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t go off yet before you have to,” You look to the table directly adjacent to your own and sitting there is a kid who looks to be roughly fifteen years of age leaning back against his table. “Commander Edgar still has yet to address everyone—including the newer and less experienced people who don’t know what they’re doing—and give his trademark speech. He probably slept in. He hardly arrives on time.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"
Nodding, Zarvox unfreezes. “Zarvox, indeed. Yes—and why not? I’ve worn a dozen or so, but like the borrowed skin-clothes, none have settled on me very well.” Then— “Cat fights?”He bursts into laughter—high, brittle, and echoing like glass breaking in a cathedral.
“No, no, no, no, no! You misunderstand me, Lazarus.”He steps closer—not confrontational, but conspiratorial. Like two scholars sharing a forbidden footnote.
“It wasn’t about claws. Or quarrels. Or Tabaxi temperament.”He lets the word Tabaxi linger, just a breath longer than necessary. “It was about flavor. The kind that simmers. The kind that stains. But perhaps I was unclear. I do tend to stew in my metaphors.”The word stew lands with a faint curl of his tail, a flick of his quill, and a glint in his eye. He begins a fresh entry in his Codex.
At Tyst’s guess, Zarvox clicks his tongue without looking away from his writing. “Irritating is incorrect. But maybe one day you can figure it—if…” Zarvox pauses mid-sentence. His tail stills. His eyes—and the Codex—close. He whispers: “There’s something here. It moves when you forget it. Watches when you don’t.”He tilts his head—“No intent. No malice. Just observation. A witness, perhaps. Or, as I mentioned, a scribe without ink.” Zavox looks around the room with his eyes closed. “It avoids soulbinders. Curious. As if we’re too loud. Or too familiar.”His eyes snap open. The Codex follows. He begins to write an even fresher entry. Tyst and his answer—forgotten. Or so it seems.
Ian starts to pay more attention to the conversation. Ian looks at Tyst.
“I have no desire to compete for the title of Abyss’s scribe. I find that being prepared is the only way to survive. Scrolls can save your life when all else fails.”
Turning to the child that joined the convention.
“How many times have you had to sit through his trademark speech? I don't think I catched your name, please call me Ian. Also how late does commander Edgar normally run?”
A loud voice booms from directly behind your table and the lights flicker on and off
”Welcome, one and all here to our camp. It is a pleasure to see all of your faces here and to see your patience for our commander. So—now after having slept in and stalled, Edgar should be giving you a summary of our mission.”
The voice came from a tall and sharp featured woman holding what looks to be files and documents in her off-hand, standing directly behind the table you all sit at. She seems to be paying special attention to Ian and Zarvox--one with malice and the other with distaste--out of the corner of her eye.
“If I was fond of betting I’d bet 20 platinum that he’d wait even longer if I hadn’t done that to force him to show his face” you can hear her mutter to herself as she twitches in annoyance at the delay.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"
Súce sips at his drink and looks at Ian's shackles. "I have done more for the abyss than most in my past, yet they trust me more than you. What is it that causes them to shackle you?"
Nodding, Zarvox unfreezes. “Zarvox, indeed. Yes—and why not? I’ve worn a dozen or so, but like the borrowed skin-clothes, none have settled on me very well.” Then— “Cat fights?”He bursts into laughter—high, brittle, and echoing like glass breaking in a cathedral.
“No, no, no, no, no! You misunderstand me, Lazarus.”He steps closer—not confrontational, but conspiratorial. Like two scholars sharing a forbidden footnote.
“It wasn’t about claws. Or quarrels. Or Tabaxi temperament.”He lets the word Tabaxi linger, just a breath longer than necessary. “It was about flavor. The kind that simmers. The kind that stains. But perhaps I was unclear. I do tend to stew in my metaphors.”The word stew lands with a faint curl of his tail, a flick of his quill, and a glint in his eye. He begins a fresh entry in his Codex.
At Tyst’s guess, Zarvox clicks his tongue without looking away from his writing. “Irritating is incorrect. But maybe one day you can figure it—if…” Zarvox pauses mid-sentence. His tail stills. His eyes—and the Codex—close. He whispers: “There’s something here. It moves when you forget it. Watches when you don’t.”He tilts his head—“No intent. No malice. Just observation. A witness, perhaps. Or, as I mentioned, a scribe without ink.” Zavox looks around the room with his eyes closed. “It avoids soulbinders. Curious. As if we’re too loud. Or too familiar.”His eyes snap open. The Codex follows. He begins to write an even fresher entry. Tyst and his answer—forgotten. Or so it seems.
"It may not have been the answer you were looking for," Tyst says, "but it was definitely correct."
He looks at Ian. "I hope you got a scroll to get you out of those cuffs friend. Or it looks like you'll be left behind."
When the woman finishes he mutters "About time. If I have to spend much longer in this crowd I might jump out of my skin."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
“That just means you have not angered the right people. I was simply sent on a mission with people that the leaders cared about. They are all dead and I managed to survive. I was forced to gain power in order to survive in the abyss and they don't trust my explanation.”
Turning to Tyst.
“I’m sure I could still kill a few creatures with my hands tied together but you do make a good point. The fact I am here leads me to believe the cuffs will be removed eventually.”
Tyst looks Ian over appraisingly and shrugs. "Yeah, you're probably right. You know your situation better than I do."
He turns to Sol. "Psps." He says with an upward nod of his head and gestures to an open chair next to him."Sol was it? I'm Tyst. Sit here and save me from the rantings of this Tiefling."
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Tyst shrugs. "Sure, why not? Better than this guy's 'Truth, Lie and Secret' game."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Zarvox doesn’t flinch at the booming voice. His quill stills mid-stroke, hovering above the Codex like a blade deciding where to cut. He lifts his eyes slowly—first to the flickering lights, then to the woman. He doesn’t meet her gaze directly. He studies her like a glyph, searching for the fracture in the pattern. “Ah. A herald with teeth.”He tilts his head, tail curling once behind him. He closes the Codex with a soft snap. His eyes flick toward the two Tabaxi—Tyst and Sol—as their banter unfolds. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, not quite a smile, but something adjacent. Amusement, perhaps. Or approval. With a subtle gesture—two fingers tracing a spiral in the air—a stew pot shimmers into existence atop the table in front of the two Tabaxi as he makes his way back to his high-backed chair he’s subtly modified with stacked tomes. He waits to hear. He writes. And as the Codex drinks in fresh ink, Zarvox murmurs—more to the page than the room: “Patterns emerge. Even in stew."
You'll need five dice with the symbols of a standard deck of cards (Ace, King, Queen, Jack, 10, 9). You can also use regular six-sided dice, assigning each number to a card value (1=Ace, 2=2, 3=3, etc.).
Hand Ranking:
Poker hands are formed as in traditional poker, with the exception that straights and flushes are typically not included, and five of a kind is the highest hand.
Rolling:
Each player rolls all five dice, then can choose to re-roll some or all of them up to two more times (for a total of three rolls).
Betting:
Players can incorporate betting rounds, similar to traditional poker, where they can raise, call, or fold based on their hands.
Winning:
The player with the best poker hand after all rolls and betting rounds wins.
(OOC: Are the hands kept secret or played out in the open?)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Suce frowns at Ian's comments. "Power often comes at a price in the abyss. You may no be the only one who has made such a choice, and they may have been betrayed in the past. The trust they have in me is more practical. They know I hate the enemy, and more importantly they know the enemy hates me."
“Nah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t go off yet before you have to,” You look to the table directly adjacent to your own and sitting there is a kid who looks to be roughly fifteen years of age leaning back against his table. “Commander Edgar still has yet to address everyone—including the newer and less experienced people who don’t know what they’re doing—and give his trademark speech. He probably slept in. He hardly arrives on time.”
"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"
Zarvox narration.
Nodding, Zarvox unfreezes. “Zarvox, indeed. Yes—and why not? I’ve worn a dozen or so, but like the borrowed skin-clothes, none have settled on me very well.” Then— “Cat fights?” He bursts into laughter—high, brittle, and echoing like glass breaking in a cathedral.
“No, no, no, no, no! You misunderstand me, Lazarus.” He steps closer—not confrontational, but conspiratorial. Like two scholars sharing a forbidden footnote.
“It wasn’t about claws. Or quarrels. Or Tabaxi temperament.” He lets the word Tabaxi linger, just a breath longer than necessary. “It was about flavor. The kind that simmers. The kind that stains. But perhaps I was unclear. I do tend to stew in my metaphors.” The word stew lands with a faint curl of his tail, a flick of his quill, and a glint in his eye. He begins a fresh entry in his Codex.
At Tyst’s guess, Zarvox clicks his tongue without looking away from his writing. “Irritating is incorrect. But maybe one day you can figure it—if…” Zarvox pauses mid-sentence. His tail stills. His eyes—and the Codex—close. He whispers: “There’s something here. It moves when you forget it. Watches when you don’t.” He tilts his head—“No intent. No malice. Just observation. A witness, perhaps. Or, as I mentioned, a scribe without ink.” Zavox looks around the room with his eyes closed. “It avoids soulbinders. Curious. As if we’re too loud. Or too familiar.” His eyes snap open. The Codex follows. He begins to write an even fresher entry. Tyst and his answer—forgotten. Or so it seems.
Ian starts to pay more attention to the conversation. Ian looks at Tyst.
“I have no desire to compete for the title of Abyss’s scribe. I find that being prepared is the only way to survive. Scrolls can save your life when all else fails.”
Turning to the child that joined the convention.
“How many times have you had to sit through his trademark speech? I don't think I catched your name, please call me Ian. Also how late does commander Edgar normally run?”
"I see" Sol says to Ian. Sol, finding himself interested in this new person, offers his hand and his name "Name's Sol."
D&D since 1984
Sol, a Tabaxi himself, raises an eyebrow to the mention of his kin
D&D since 1984
A loud voice booms from directly behind your table and the lights flicker on and off
”Welcome, one and all here to our camp. It is a pleasure to see all of your faces here and to see your patience for our commander. So—now after having slept in and stalled, Edgar should be giving you a summary of our mission.”
The voice came from a tall and sharp featured woman holding what looks to be files and documents in her off-hand, standing directly behind the table you all sit at. She seems to be paying special attention to Ian and Zarvox--one with malice and the other with distaste--out of the corner of her eye.
“If I was fond of betting I’d bet 20 platinum that he’d wait even longer if I hadn’t done that to force him to show his face” you can hear her mutter to herself as she twitches in annoyance at the delay.
"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"
Súce sips at his drink and looks at Ian's shackles. "I have done more for the abyss than most in my past, yet they trust me more than you. What is it that causes them to shackle you?"
"It may not have been the answer you were looking for," Tyst says, "but it was definitely correct."
He looks at Ian. "I hope you got a scroll to get you out of those cuffs friend. Or it looks like you'll be left behind."
When the woman finishes he mutters "About time. If I have to spend much longer in this crowd I might jump out of my skin."
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Ian starts to smile and looks at Suce.
“That just means you have not angered the right people. I was simply sent on a mission with people that the leaders cared about. They are all dead and I managed to survive. I was forced to gain power in order to survive in the abyss and they don't trust my explanation.”
Turning to Tyst.
“I’m sure I could still kill a few creatures with my hands tied together but you do make a good point. The fact I am here leads me to believe the cuffs will be removed eventually.”
Tyst looks Ian over appraisingly and shrugs. "Yeah, you're probably right. You know your situation better than I do."
He turns to Sol. "Psps." He says with an upward nod of his head and gestures to an open chair next to him. "Sol was it? I'm Tyst. Sit here and save me from the rantings of this Tiefling."
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Sol, turning to Tyst, he lets out a small laugh.
"Care to play cards?"
D&D since 1984
Quote from GR_Mustang >>
Tyst shrugs. "Sure, why not? Better than this guy's 'Truth, Lie and Secret' game."
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Zarvox Narration.
Zarvox doesn’t flinch at the booming voice. His quill stills mid-stroke, hovering above the Codex like a blade deciding where to cut. He lifts his eyes slowly—first to the flickering lights, then to the woman. He doesn’t meet her gaze directly. He studies her like a glyph, searching for the fracture in the pattern. “Ah. A herald with teeth.” He tilts his head, tail curling once behind him. He closes the Codex with a soft snap. His eyes flick toward the two Tabaxi—Tyst and Sol—as their banter unfolds. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, not quite a smile, but something adjacent. Amusement, perhaps. Or approval. With a subtle gesture—two fingers tracing a spiral in the air—a stew pot shimmers into existence atop the table in front of the two Tabaxi as he makes his way back to his high-backed chair he’s subtly modified with stacked tomes. He waits to hear. He writes. And as the Codex drinks in fresh ink, Zarvox murmurs—more to the page than the room: “Patterns emerge. Even in stew."
(Poker with Dice:
D&D since 1984
Test Run
18
D&D since 1984
so 4,2,6,2,4 or 2 Kings, 2 Jacks and a 9
D&D since 1984
(OOC: Are the hands kept secret or played out in the open?)
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
“I’m not much for cards, friends. Think I’ll go find more hot water. My tea is tepid. Suce/Zarvox, care to join me?”
Lazarus stands up and wanders away towards the group he heard talking of unrest within the ranks.
”Excuse me, gentlemen. Can we join you? We’re interested in this blindfolded man. Could we buy you a round?”
OOC:
Persuasion = 4 (Ugh!)
Suce frowns at Ian's comments. "Power often comes at a price in the abyss. You may no be the only one who has made such a choice, and they may have been betrayed in the past. The trust they have in me is more practical. They know I hate the enemy, and more importantly they know the enemy hates me."
One gives you a withering glare. "Sod off. None of your business anyways. Plus I don't drink, at least not alcohol."
"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"