So he DID have the deck. Thank goodness. Scezha wouldn't know how to explain the game to both of them if they don't have the cards. Scezha carefully held the deck in his right palm, feeling its antiquity just form the look and weight of it. It was an old deck, alright. One with a red trimming around the edges. Considering how Sir Robert kept the deck inside his pocket, along with his blades, Scezha can only hope these red trim doesn't come from blood.
"Well, let's play then. I'll be the house. All non-numbered cards are considered to have the value of ten, with the exception of an ace which is just one." Scezha holds the deck in-between his two palms, then shuffle it slowly. He didn;t want to make a new mark on this ancient item. But before he can deal the card, something interrupts him.
A loud noise, a loud banging noise, stops Scezha's shuffling hands. A patron a few tables behind him just shout a heavy complaint about the tavern, the drinks, and the barmaids. He throws out three or four threatening line to the nearest barmaid and even got his fellow drunker on the same table to squeals and slips away on all four.
Put it simply, he's drunk. And nobody seems so eager to stop him from his rampage. Not even his friends. Scezha let out a sigh. Can't he have a peaceful first day on at least one city? It seems like discontent people always follows him wherever he go.
The drunk guy begins his rampage. Throwing curses and tables all around the place. Wood splintering and women screaming all over the place. The tavern owner yells at two bouncers near the table, but both of them doesn't seem like they can do much. the drunkard was almost one and a halve their size!
Scezha himself make a swift and quick decision. He held the deck of card firmly in his hand and quickly run for cover behind one of the wooden pillars supporting the tavern. Fighting was never one of his forte, and facing someone this huge could mean joining the dead sooner than he wanted.
"Gentlemen?" He stares at his two new acquiantances. "Seems like we've got a little 'tavern situation' here. Pity the ale was too good for that man." The fight and screams now doesn't stay with that one man. Others have join in with the bouncers trying to calm him, but they only made more angry patrons than they calmed down.
"Truly, the ale was too good for them." He stares slowly at the ceiling, the ghost up there stares back at him. "Don't tell me... you want a part in this too?"
[OOC: I just made the fight. Sorry it's not too perfect, but it's a start.]