South Jaga City -Troug, 13th.

“Pass.” Said a slow speaking dwarf at the table of five through the bottom of his empty mug of half-ale. He had a long no-nonsense beard of black and a moustache to match. Most of his face was constantly obscured by the welding goggles he seemed to never remove. He wore no hat and had no hair, though a faded tattoo of crossed hammers was somewhat visible upon his dome.

“Fold.” Came the soft voice of a wizened old elf sporting a fancy green topknot hairstyle that was in no way ostentatious. He wore a collection of multicolored cloth layers over his thin frame hitting every color of the Wilds beyond the tamer pastures surrounding the city, a token of his appreciation for the forest he sometimes called home.

“Call.” This was spoken with concise words of skepticism as the woman speaking held no thoughts of loss. Her opponent was known for bluffing and easy tells after all. She was unique in that she was the only woman at the table, though she was also unique in the fact that she was the only sober player in the house. She wore a simple leather outfit that hugged her small frame tightly if not scandalously. Two blades sat at her waist, tied with bright yellow knots to honor the rules of the host, while her bow was unstrung and serving as a prop behind the over-sized chair: over-sized for her at least.

“Fold.” Said another man, this one possessing a proper eye-patch over his left eye, his visible eye was a brilliant blue gray. His face was roughly shaved and showed only small bits of green stubble. His silken green hair matched, tied back in a knot of locks secured with a red velvet band at the base of his neck, most people would say it resembled a green horse tail, if horses were to have green tails.

“Alright then boys.” Said the excited man at the final chair as he put down his own mug. He had been drinking since dawn. He possessed eyes that were of a silver blue hue with shoulder length hair that had a mix of white and black atop his head as if his hair had decided to be the color of snow but got confused when nearly done leaving the resemblance of zebra-stripes. He had angular features, somewhat softened with age and ale. His clothing consisted of an overlarge and roughly made leather coat with several small strings of yellow knotted throughout. He was well-armed. “Full boat, thieves over mages, I think that sets me as winner for the round.”

“You are still a fool; thieves are never over mages. And you only have two of them, why would you say it that way? It makes no sense!” this came from eye-patch.

“Ahh, come on Dwayne. We all know thieves are simply better.” Replied the Zebra-man.

“I hate to say how much I love being right, but it seems you lost. Four saints.” Said the woman as she stood upon her chair to look down into the man’s eyes. They were almost even.

The mans face shifted from incredulous shock to peevish anger and then straight to shame-filled loss as he recognized his defeat. “Fine, you win Finny.”

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“The names Finwighin, you lout. Why do you insist on giving me a nickname when your own name offends you, eh Chris?” taunted the gnome, her pink hair bouncing on hidden currents of air.

“You can call me Algol.” Said Chris, striking a regal pose. Chest out and hands at his hips, truly exaggerating the look. It might have had the desired effect if he had not spilled his ale at the same time.

“Watch it, watch it!” said the dwarf attempting to secure the cards.

“Sorry Daryll, party foul. My bad.” Said the man named Algol, looking properly chastened.

“If we could all get back to the game, I would be well pleased.” Said the elf as his eyes lingered on the gnome as she leaned over the table. Was it his fault she wore such tightly fitting clothing over places not meant to be restrained, no it was not.

“Eyes on the table, Haroll!” said Finwighin, a scowl marring her otherwise smooth, light-brown skin.

“Cannot blame the elf for being who he is, lass.” Said the dwarf, pointing at her obvious chest as her parts strained against their bonds. “You make quite the welcome distraction.”

The gnomes face flushed to the color of her hair creating a great display of acute embarrassment for all to see. It was really rather fetching, and a great many of the patrons would concur as several began shouting complimentary agreements.

“Enough!” shouted a large woman from the bar. She was rather large, though not wide. The woman was tall in a way of grand oaks. Eight feet from toe to top, with a club mounted on the wall to match. None would naysay her decree as all who entered knew she held the keys for all the best ale and food in town.

The woman held their gazes for only a moment before turning her attention back to a willowy man at the end of her bar. The patrons all looked after the fire-haired woman for several moments before they continued with their rambling and gambling: although at a much lower level.

The five had taken their seats once again and were currently dealing a new round when a faint sound passed through the air, accompanied by a soft blue glow.

All five turned to look at Algol’s pile of assorted equipment where they saw a small ring tied through with a thong of leather. No one at the table permitted anyone else to wear enchanted items, save the dwarf who never seemed to be without his goggles.

The zebra haired man stood with a sigh of sufferance as he dropped his cards and pushed in his pile of wooden chips.

“Duty calls to me, my fine friends. It seems night has arrived.”

Algol made a mock bow after donning his coat and with it his weaponry before sliding the ring over his finger with it still glowing softly, though the vibration had begun increasing in level.

With a press of one finger to the back of the ring it stilled, going back to its dull silver sheen.

Algol took up his great sword and secured it to the rack at his back before pulling the knots free from his myriad items and placing them upon the table. He did not need to leave them behind for some rule of the house, but he would not need the added color to attract attention on the darkened streets.

“Tell Bret I said hello, yah?” said the dwarf, Daryll.

It took only a moment before Finny softened her expression and bid the man farewell, along with the others at their table. They each had responsibilities, and they knew that soon they would probably be called to work as well.

They were all members of the guild after all.

Algol’s eyes shifted to a vibrant red color as he pulled his short sword from its scabbard and dragged it down against some invisible barrier in the air. Nary a second later and the path he had sliced split with a sound like ripping sails to reveal a rift of purest darkness.

Algol waved goodbye, grinning evilly showing fang as he stepped through the portal into the darkness.

After the regulars had quieted down the newer patrons, assuring them that all was well the party continued. They were all accustomed to various patrons using wildly varying methods to leave the house; hells the lady of the house encouraged outlandish behavior so long as it did not result in damages to her property.

Another boring night at Helga House.