“Damn!” A heavier man, obviously filled with his desires, smiled as he cursed the dice he’d cast. They’d tumbled out over an odd dome that swelled atop a shimmering metallic table between three individuals. The dice stuck to the spherical shape as if pulled toward the center. “Another terrible roll. I’m beginning to think these dice hate me!” The heavier man leaned back in his masterfully crafted chair and let out a deep laugh. As he bellowed, his exposed belly jostled with the cheery boom.

To his left, a thin woman draped in black cloth leaned over the table’s edge with interested eyes. They were a fantastic blue; similar to the spectacular details woven into the edges of her black robes. She moved as if her entire body were made of some intelligent water—pale and flowing as the foam over the sea. Her eyes examined the risen half-orb and each dice across its surface.

“If you played your next seven turns correctly, perhaps these dice could be of great use to you.” She didn’t smile at this; in fact, she winced at the idea of possibly being outplayed so far into the future by the boorish man.

“Seven turns, eh? That all?” The first man’s meaty hand ran over the golden locks of hair that flowed backwards. Though it seemed greasy, it was more accurate to say his hair was like a solid, mat of gold strands running over his head and down to his shoulders. “I don’t think I know what I want next turn. It’s luck, by the Hells!”

His eyes opened to reveal blazing eyes of white. He grinned widely at the studying woman. Chuckling at her intense stare, he leaned forward to take his filled cup. After several long gulps, he placed it back—still as full as when he’d first taken it up.

“Bad rolls is all you ever claim to have, Monture.” The last of the members surrounding this table pushed himself to the edge of his chair. Though it was equally as splendid as the other seats within this odd chamber of shifting lights and space filled with nothing, it was of a smaller mass. “But now, Tontin, it’s your go.” The smaller man nodded impatiently at the woman. His thick limbs were visible beneath chainmail that glistened with the shifting lights of this unknown world. “Or do we have time for a nap?”

The two men smiled at one another while the woman continued to examine the sphere. Whites, blues, greens, browns, and all manners of images unhurriedly drifted beneath of what seemed like glass. The smaller man leaned on his chair with one fist keeping his head from falling. His lips pulled back as his eyes narrowed; his mighty beard of crimsons and oranges flittered between his legs. “Wake me when it’s my go.” He pretended to close his eyes and began to snore loudly; much to the enjoyment of Monture.

“How many games have we played, yet you believe your childish antics disturb my concentration.” Tontin, the woman with flowing locks of ashen hair could see the orange orbs of the smaller man flash back open. He continue to snore in hopes of finally breaking her. “I’d not throw away any chance of victory over the likes of you two.”

A thin hand moved out hesitantly over the field. Then, with one side of her lips pulling back slightly, she took up her dice that floated over a vast blueness that dug into a crescent slab of browns and greens. She lifted the dice to her mouth and began to whisper. It was difficult to make out the words, and the two men waited with legitimate smiles now reaching across their faces. She then flung the dice.

 The eyes of white, blue, and orange watched three dice of some grayed stone fly out toward the half-sphere. These dice struck the surface without either cracking. One die flipped and arched up toward the top of the sphere. Another hit and slid down toward the bottom left. She watched this one strike a few times on the corners and then fall over open blue. Showing a “one” made her smile wane. Her eyes moved up toward the first die to stop and found this one to be “six”. Her smile partially returned.

Mortune leaned forward, “Interesting!”

Tontin leaned closer to his side while the third member of their game tried to stretch up in his chair—barely coming to the same height as the top of the sphere. Tontin’s expression was warped by surprise. “What is the meaning of this?”

The two that could see examined the third die in this casted lot. “What’s happenin’? I can’t bloody see!” The smallest member flung himself from the seat and hurried around the table.

In this time, the die had not stopped. Three comrades within this game of souls watched as the last of the dice flipped at a snail’s pace, struck a corner, bounced back at a similar speed, and continued to spin and strike corners… as if the die were unable to determine its own outcome.

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“What did you ask of it?”

“I reveal neither my strategy nor my intentions.” Tontin shook her head in bewilderment. “What region do we see?” She asked herself before answering, “Protharian Empire? What peculiarities might we find?” Her face was now far more twisted by the sudden peculiarity. “The unknown! How splendid!” She couldn’t take her eyes from the map and spinning die, “Might we go and decipher this discovery?”

“You know the rules,” the shortest member leaned toward the woman with a genuine grin that might have attempted to hide insidious intents beneath the waves of crimson hair.

“Of course I do, Rultzo.” She ignored his hopes at her departure. “Such vile tactics in hopes of a victory you’d never see by merit.” Her words felt harsh on her tongue, so she sighed, “Apologies, but I’d hoped in agreeance we could agree upon the game’s end.”

“These things happen, albeit not often.” Monture laughed from his belly again and gulped another few cups worth of fine wine. “I’d prefer to continue the game. Mortals are always doing interesting things. If they found spells or some al-kay-mic whatever, they’ll still have it after the game.”

“Al-chem-ic.” Tontin corrected the wine-guzzling man without turning toward him. “I do suppose you are correct. It would be undignified of me to end our game for such a trivial concern as time.” She sighed again while watching the die. “Then that is an unknown, and therefore a zero.”

“My luck’s lookin’ up!” Rultzo leaned back with his fists against his hip and laughed.

“Mhm.” The drinking man coughed and leaned forward with a chuckle that overtook the other’s. “The only thing of yours going up!” Monture’s large hand landed against Rultzo’s shoulder—the palm was almost half of the shorter man’s torso.

Rultzo had stopped laughing, but his smile yanked up a number of fiery strands in his beard. “Big talk for the big man in last!”

These three jeered one another as they took a momentary rest from the game.

“What if we checked in on it?”

“You know the rules! The game’s start means we remain at the table. To look into their lives or twist events is cheatin’! You aren’t a cheater, are you missy?”

“I needn’t such underhanded advantages.”

“Says she with the only zero in this game.”

From this game, there was one path into the shifting lights of bright day or the sudden glow of night. One hole broke this everlasting stretch of shifting lights. A man, youthful even by comparison with the others, stood against the frame of this gateway into the room of the gods’ game.

“Another round?” A second man looked into the room behind him. This second man comes into the scene rather abruptly. His figure is one of muscles built upon a sapling, a marble hero carved by delicate hands. His fair skin is exaggerated by his bright green eyes and burning locks of red hair falling from beneath fur hides. A wolf’s open maw covers the man’s head, furs fall around his straightened shoulders, and a sudden paw of a bear pats the other man’s shoulder. “Still sulking? Oh, brother. It’s time to give up on the one game even cheating can’t let you win.”

The two men shared a laugh. In the forefront, the man with slicked back black hair, a twisted black mustache, and fine features of the rambling gambler watched the game with bright green eyes. His eyes were darker than the man’s behind him, but the chiseled cheeks made their familiar blood obvious.

Black leather with golden inscriptions covered the more civilized looking of the brothers. Runic symbols decorated his various clothing. A black cloak with red beneath hung loosely from his back.

Shaking his head, he answered, “Not at all, dear brother. It’s a game I’d prefer to watch, in all honesty.” His voice was much more refined than that of the wilder man behind him.

Two vastly different appearances meant little to widen any gap in their skills or talents. “In all honesty,” the man wearing the furs leaned closer in, “we both know that’s a lie.”

“Of course we do.” A heavy sigh escaped the man with the thin mustache. “Had I the ante, I’d play in a heart’s beat.”

“And sure enough, you’d find each loophole and trick. Twist one word and make the die impossible to land anyway but on six.” The furred man moved to the side to lean against the other side of the frame. The two watched the three playing the game for some time.

“I may go and check on them.” The man in his black leather armor spoke. The other man nodded in agreement.

“What else is there to do?”

“You’d not stop me?” The man with the curled mustache turned slightly toward his brother. “I thought it was improper to muddle the lives of mortals with that which they’ve discarded. Is that not my brother looking back at me?”

Though they shared a smile, the man wearing various parts of animals was miles away. “Perhaps it is I that has been wrong.”

“Bless the Heavens themselves, my brother sees reason.” It was a quiet jest as to not upset the man in thought.

“Perhaps we have been silent for too long.” He considered a recent event he’d seen up close. “Even if they desire a world without us, is it not our duty to direct them?”

“After all we’ve been through, I should say so.”

“Then, brother, do as you would. I ask you keep your mischief to a minimum, but there is no reason for us to slip completely into the realm of obsolete.” The man wearing the wolf’s pelt over his head nodded.

“Then I’ll take you up on your fine offer.” The black-armored man turned and slapped a hand across his brother’s back. “Let the world enjoy the company of Dubrious and Obrin once more!” He looked at the three and their game. “I think I know just where to start.”

Obrin turned to his brother mirroring mischievous expression. “Indeed brother. When shall we depart?”