Closed A Chance Encounter(Nyxie)

[Roscoe]

11th of Summer, 514 AV They called them sixers. Hands with six fingers. Supposed to be incredibly lucky. This one was huge, though it had to be taken into consideration that it was in fact an altar. It held one gigantic sculpted die. In front of it was a semi circle of some sort of cloth, absolutely brimming with all manner of shiny things. Gold rimmed Miza's by the dozens, jewelry of all shapes and sizes, complete with gemstones of varying levels of quality and brilliance. It was beautiful. It stood in sharp contrast to the two guards standing to either side of the altar. Both larger men, and quite gruff looking to boot. They were obviously strong and both carried a weapon in a very visible fashion- the one to the left a sword, and to the right a spear. Judging by the gruffness of them- an aged, tough complexion, a couple visible scars, and a generally mean expression- one could easily infer that these men were both well armed and quite skilled. They weren't the type of people you picked a fight with, probably the reason Towery thought it a worthwhile investment to have them on staff. Observing all of this was a decidedly less intimidating man- not entirely without his moments, but much less skilled in the art than the men standing in front of him. Roscoe had stopped in at the Casino this evening mostly for relaxation- it was hard to get any of that these days, with the recent theft from the Draer stores, on top of the already existing difficulty of adjusting to his unexpected shift to living as a servant for some family, and all because he was stupid enough to petching go mad as soon as he showed up. But still, it wasn't all bad. They had been very merciful to allow him to stay a free man- if one with a debt. And he had his hopes that things would turn out favorably with the sudden crime spree. He knew his name was probably being whispered in certain circles, and he was indeed the perfect scapegoat. But Ros had decided there wasn't much of a point in fretting about it. In all his life he had not yet seen anything that caused him to doubt that the truth would always prevail, and he rested in that belief. But that didn't mean a good drink and some fun weren't in order to make things easier. So he found himself on this evening in Towery's, his hand wrapped around a rum on the rocks. He cherished the icy cold feeling in the midst of the constant heat that wracked the city and its surrounding plantations. As he thought through recent events and observed the array of treasures adorning the altar in front of him, he inhaled and exhaled a long, relaxing sigh, and touched the drink briefly to his lips. He took in a small sip- Ros believed good drinks deserved to be savored- and let it rest in his mouth a moment before swallowing. He tried to make not of all the sensations that came with it- the slight sting of the alcohol first meeting the tongue, followed by the rich, wonderful, lingering sweet flavor that defined the rum. You could pick out the light, almost candy taste of the lingering sugarcane, and the deep, appreciable definition retained from the molasses. The icy cool imparted by the ice chilled his teeth and tongue, making the flavor even more sensational as its effects were multiplied. An abiding, refreshing cool washed over his body as he swallowed, followed by the characteristic liquor-warmth that seemed to spread out from within until it set your whole body to tingling in a pleasant way, somehow coexisting with the refreshing cool. All in all, it was an absolutely wonderful thing and just what Roscoe had needed. After taking a moment to let that settle, and to enjoy and savor it, he decided that he ought to show some reverence to the god in whose presence he may very well have been standing. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a gold rimmed miza, and tossed it gently into the pile of goods sitting on the cloth around the altar. The gods name was supposed to by Ovek- that's what he thought, at least. Or Okev? He wasn't sure. He hadn't had a chance to really study the gods at any length- he made a note to do just that when he had the time. A chuckle excaped Ros' mouth at the thought of luck being on his side, but figured it was always worth a shot. And besides, the gods were- moreso than any man- the holders of power in this world. It was foolish to not show a little reverence from time to time, even if your worship didn't rest on that god primarily. In the moment, loosened up and musing on the topic, Ros decided that it couldn't hurt to go a step further and say a prayer. He softly spoke as he stood in front of the altar. 'Whatever your name is, I come to you now and ask you to hear me. You're a god so you probably know how things are going down here. I figure any god of luck or chance probably finds my life amusing. All I ask is for a little favor. Just give me a little decent luck. Just a little. I figure I've earned it. Guess this wasn't much of a prayer, but hey, it's something.' With that concluded, he stepped back slightly from the altar, and took another sip of his drink, savoring the sensations and deciding it was probably about time for him to find a game to join, or someone to start one with. Drinking was only half the reason he came here, after all. NaJu Counter: 975 Words

[Vice]

Roscoe :

Skills

• +2 Observation

Lores

• Location: Shrine to Ovek
• Location: Towery's Casino
• God of Luck: Name Withheld
• Lore: Sixers

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