— • —
The blinding lights. The smoke filled air. Choking on the scent of cologne, perfume, and more. Some way or another, you've wound up in one of the more popular casinos in town, The Silver Spade, where thousands come to test their luck and skill and indulge to their heart's content. 

The rhythmic jazz tunes set the backdrop for an intense scene at a table in the corner. Your eyes are drawn to the group of people gathered around a polished mahogany table, engaged in a high-stakes game of poker. The air is thick with tension, as the players, clad in tailored suits and adorned with fedora hats, exude an air of mysterious sophistication. Cigar smoke swirls lazily in the air, adding an element of intrigue to the atmosphere. The clinking of glass and muffled laughter intertwine with the subtle whispers of strategy. Each character wears a poker face, concealing their intentions beneath veils of secrecy. As you approach, the anticipation lingers in the air, inviting you to witness the unfolding drama in this captivating world of risk and cunning.

Go ahead. Introduce yourself. Show off your skills.

*Finally gonna get to play Itharti*

Itharti squints against the light of the casino, not totally sure how he ended up here. Must have drunk too much. Keeping his head down, he navigates the sea of people gathered in the Silver Spade, gagging slightly against the perfumes and smoke. Normally he would thrive in a place like, this, but the tence air and his sleepy figure sour it. Jazz isn't really his style anyway. Swaying, like the rooms tilting slightly, he grabs onto a wall, legs like noodles. He pulls himself together, digging his nails into the wallpaper. Once the room stops spinning, he sits on the floor, lighting a small cigarette and peering over at the poker game, curious.

Damon Yoder stands, surveying the scene with both an interest and some disdain. The old him would have hated such a place, maybe even disrupted it, for its perceived wastefulness and hedonism, at a time where so many were starving. But Damon now just sees the flashing surfaces, the superficial glamour and heady indulgence, as just that- a distraction, and maybe even a pleasant one, from the darkness of the outside world. And that is no bad thing...

A man stalks the tables, but whether he's looking for someone or just pacing isn't entirely clear. He has a bowl cut of yellow hair, halfway covering his stern expression. He isn't any taller or shorter than average, but he exudes a cruel aura. He wears work clothes, matched with a yellow tie styled after an Otyugh's sensory tentacle. A pistol sits on his hip, clearly custom-built. His thick leather gloves, boots, and apron look like they've been stained with unsavory fluids time and time again.

The air inside the opulent casino hall grows thick with intensity as the poker game reaches its peak. The table is surrounded by a motley crew of players, their eyes fixed on the pile of chips that has steadily accumulated at the center. The flickering chandeliers cast a warm glow upon the scene, illuminating the beads of sweat that glisten on the players' brows. A palpable tension permeates the room, as each participant leans forward, studying their cards with unwavering focus. Sharp exhales punctuate the silence, revealing the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. The clatter of chips fills the brief pauses, as bets are made and met with calculated stares and subtle smirks. The occasional nervous laugh or a suppressed curse escapes, betraying the mounting pressure that threatens to engulf the players. With every flip of a card, gasps and murmurs ripple through the crowd, their collective breath held in anticipation of the outcome. A silver haired man, the youngest of the group, watches the others with a smile. He's the only one that looks relatively unfazed.

Everyone roll perception.

3

*Ooo, here we go*

Perception: 9

*Wow, we all got real unlucky*

*Do well Baalz*

Several people look visibly nervous as Olson strides through the casino. He's dressed drastically different than most of the other patrons- they all appear to be well-groomed higher-ups of society.

Liz is greeted with a few catcalls, but they offer her a seat at the table. "Wanna put your bets in next game, little miss?"

A man dressed like the rest of the waitstaff offers Itharti a glass of water with a look of concern.

Damon is greeted with a couple of cursory looks, but nothing major. He bumps into a few people, but they apologize and move away quickly.

Oswald: 19

Quote from 10_30inDutch >>

2

 He feels someone roughly bump into him, both tripping and tumbling onto the ground. The person appears to be a dark skinned woman with half-elven features and a short black dress embedded with sequins, long cornrows tied back and cuffed with gold links. Her face looks apologetic, but he sees a hint of... fear in her eyes. "I'm so sorry sir, I'll get out of your way." She stands up, and Damon sees the flash of a gun muzzle under her dress- this woman is concealed carrying.

*Omg those perception rolls yall*

"Oh, thank you." Itharti accepts the water, taking a sip.

*Should we be using colors for speech?*

Quote from Markell_Thrasher_704 >>

Perception: 9

 Beneath the table, she feels something like a card accidentally brush along her leg. The feeling is fleeting- the person who did so quickly withdrew their hand. Someone at this poker game is cheating.

Quote from cynophobia_ >>

*Omg those perception rolls yall*

 *ikr*

Damon gets up, unsure whether this half-elf woman is frightened because she knows what he did.

Quote from King_Dragon_Slayer_SpiderKing >>

*Ooo, here we go*

Perception: 9

 He runs straight into a table. Nothing else happens. That was a poorly placed table.