[Blades] Gambling at Four Roses (M 1.4)

edited June 2014 in Blades


It's early evening when you roll into The Four Roses. There's a big stakes game of faro going on between Laudius the lender (top hat), Hix, the rapscallion (white hat on the left), Danfield the warfmaster (big mustache round hat guy on right) and of all people, young "lady" Arcy (black hat, looking down). Most of the crowd's attention is on the last few plays of the game. Arcy is winning, Danfield nearly out, and Hix is probably going to lose but acting like he's on top of the world.

How do you know Arcy? Why does Hix trust you so damn much, Milos?

Kristos is sitting by the bar, chatting with the bartender while eating some fried fish. He gives you a nod. He'll be up for a game, you know. He's probably waiting for the faro game to finish so he can poach some of the big players there, but you can pull him into something if you like.

As a reminder, this is how you handle your Vice!
Your vice is the reason you’ll never be rich. Whenever you come into money, you end up blowing it on your vice. This is why your fortune is tied to the guild. Left on your own, you’ll end up broke and desperate. But with the support of the crew, even when you spend every free dollar on booze or drugs or tithing money to your church, you still have your crew to fall back on.
When you have a few hours to indulge your vice, roll 1d (plus 1d per coin spent from the guild reserves).
6: Your vice goes up two levels.
4, 5: Your vice goes up one level.
1-3: Your vice goes up one level but an overindulgence leaves you vulnerable to trouble (GM details)


  • edited June 2014
    Arcy is on occasion what we call a "rail bunny". Mostly young men and women who support their habits by servicing bulls. We've passed, shared a drink at the company houses, tumbled a couple times. There're rumors she's an independent enforcer now.

    Hix was one of the brokers for whom I swapped chits. He put folks who could pay up in company rooms. Forged work sheets, made them disappear for as long as needed (or at least, as long as they could pay). I'll be needing to talk to him about a license for the spirit hook.

    I'm going to grab Kristos for a few rounds of Hazard. See if he knows anyone else keen for the back room.
  • (Rolled: 1d6. Rolls: 2. Total: 2)
  • And that's where the dice betray me.
  • Kristos is good for some Hazard, smiles and plays with you at a table while they clean up the back room. Arcy and Hix head back to play when faro ends. Arcy won, she's on top of the world, to the point of being slightly annoying. Hix feeds her drinks, and she ends up losing half her faro take, split among you.

    Of course, to get her tipsy, she's buying rounds, so you drink a bit, too. Nothing to get you stupid, but enough to take the edge off. After an hour, you hit a run of nicks, and start taking the pot. A small crowd gathers, and Remira comes to stand behind you, close enough to feel her warmth at your side. Close enough that you could feel her breasts against the back of your head if you move just right.

    This is Remira:

    Why is the fair Remira trouble, Milos? Why are you so tempted to get into that trouble?
  • edited June 2014
    Remira. The Leviathan Hunter. Not that she'd ever held a harpoon.

    Well... not a proper harpoon, anyway. She's a hustler extraordinaire, a free agent, targeting high rollers. If she's at the Roses, times must be rough. She's claimed to've worked the Imperial Ballroom. I've seen her at her best. I can believe it.

    We've had a few moments over the years, when work was better for me. Before I was married. Before the Rails. Before Cloudspire. Of course, she introduced me to my wife, not that even the marriage kept my mind off of Remira. You don't get over an infatuation with her.
  • edited June 2014
    Remira bent over, across your back, pressing just barely against you, to whisper in your ear, "Tis good to see you free, Milos. I've needed you more times than I could count lately. And here. You are." Her fingertips brush against your earlobe as she stands back up, behind you.

    It's unnerving, but inspiriting. You throw like the gods blessed your bones, and nick so often that Hix drops out, tapped. Arcy pulled in markers and tried to stay in, but by the wee hours, even she was nearly tapped. Well, technically, she was tapped, but I'll get to that.

    This is Arcy, by the by:

    As the last bits of her money are pulled away by yet another amazing throw, she stands up, pushing her chair back with the effort. "Milos. I know you can't possibly throw in one more time." She fixes you with a glare, she's been getting increasingly upset as the night rumbled on and her winnings frittered away. "I offer up on last wager, Milos. One week. Me." She swallows, nervous, shifts from foot to foot, but she's all in now. "One more throw. If I win, I take two Coin from that pot." That's half the pot as it stands. "If I lose... I'm yours." She's breathing through her nostrils now, trying to stay focused, not waver.

    Remira chuckles lightly behind you, her hand wandering to your left shoulder. She doesn't offer comment, or advice. This could be an elaborate play, you know. But man, your hand is hot tonight! You know you've got at least one more throw in you. Then there is nobody standing, you get four Coin for your effort, and a rail bunny / enforcer to work for you for a week, which isn't something to sneeze at.
  • edited June 2014
    "ебать!" (Fuck!)

    I'm a mark. They're pigeoning me. They have to be. Godshit and piss! The white oak bones are suddenly very warm in my hands, heavy. Throbbing like a pulse. I stare down at the four coins in the middle of the table. The gauntleted hand clutching a trio of lighting bolts on the tail side, the Emperor's leering mug on the heads.

    Four. Motherfucking. Coins.

    Lift the shot glass on my right in a full fist, knock back the wodka, slam the glass upside down, and take up the cup. Drop the dice in, shake twice, and let them fall.
  • If Arcy is playing you, she's got a great look for it, because she's holding her breath as you throw. Remira's hand is warm on your back. The table crowds around you as they watch the dice come out of the cup, bounce onto the table with a satisfying, wooden sound....

    How do they come up, Milos? Do you win Arcy and the four Coin? Or walk away ahead, and untangled?
  • edited June 2014
    5 is the main. 2, 3, 11, 12 outs, nick at 5. Anything else, I hold chance, and roll again. The oaks bounce across the felt, what feels like forever. I can smell both of them. The subtle, fine rose on Remira, the oil and sweat on Arcy, and the mix is intoxicating.

    The dice settle on a Hard Ten. The red clay filling the points is missing in the center of the right die. Like a winking eye.

    Snatch the dice, drop in the cup, shake thrice, throw.


    My hands are shaking.

    Throw again, the cup loose in sweat slicked hands.



    The right die settles first, on a 4, and my heart stops. The second settles on 9.

    I take a breath.

    Cup the dice.


    9 again.





    I can't breathe. Wave over another shot. Toss it back.


    5. Main. I lose, and exhale, half in relief.
  • edited July 2014
    "Ohhh!" Arcy screams as she leans over the table, snatching the two Imperial Coins from the pot, leaving the collection of shillings and bits that comprise the other half of the take. "Sometimes you mess with the bull, and you get THE HORNS! hahahahahahah" She pulls them both up, one in each hand, then places them over her eyes as she leans her head back. Probably just to feel the cool metal.

    Remira squeezes your shoulder once, like a gesture of pity, then her hand is gone. She titters at Arcy's antics, and knowing an easier mark, heads off to grab a drink with her.

    Kristos looks at the table, which is just you and him now. He picks up the dice, doesn't put them in the cup, setting them to the side, "That was a great run, Milos. Great run. Go out with more than you brought in, brother. It's too late for another game tonight." He gives you a nod of camaraderie, of solidarity.
  • Gather up the rest of the pot, drop them into a buttoned, internal pocket in my coat. Drop a shekel down, wave over for another round, indicating Kristos to join me.
    "Why do I feel like I just dodged a bolt? How's the trade, Kristos? Beetles've been putting hard pressure on the local games, you getting any heat from that?"
  • Kristos looks like so:

    "Yes, a bolt," Kristos agrees. Then he holds up a hand, waggling it like so'so, "But some pain is not so awful, yeah?" He gives Remira a leering grin that she misses. He's quite taken with her. He's never been taken by her, of that you're rather sure.

    You ask about Bluecoats, he shrugs, like it's no matter. "They are like the weather, no? Some days, is good. Other days, a storm. I wear clothes for the weather. You know?" You notice one of his many rings is missing, though. A very nice one that had a topaz setting.
  • "Будьмо" (Health!).

    "That's the motherfucker in this place, yeah? The weather is a bastard. You start getting hailed on, you let me know. Working on tin umbrellas."

    Toss back a final slug, "Будьте безпечні, товариш" (Be safe, comrade). Stand, and make to head out.
  • Kristos matches the toast, "Будьмо" (Health!).

    He shrugs again, noncommittal to your umbrella comment, but smiling. "To you, Milos."

    You're able to make it out of the house with your two Coin, but without Arcy or Remira. Win some, lose some.

    --END SCENE--
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