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Though it rarely made it a habit to mingling with the lowest populations of the capital, Damocles had to confess that, for as much as he enjoyed his conspiracies and schemes, of which nary anyone ever was aware of but him, still a certain charm and freedom came with being hidden away in the basest rings of Midas. Sure, the company was far less, intellectual, and the pleasurable accesses of the most primitive level of society far easier to sate, but there frankly was no denying that whenever he wanted to loosen up a bit and enjoy a bit of lighthearted fun, the lower levels were far less restrictive and easier to hide amongst than in those pretentious palaces and senate halls that the aristocracy was so fond of. And for as much as he longed to have his own barony, it still wasn’t exactly a secret that the Captain of the Damned occasionally feasted with the jugglers and
Yet none of that was of particular relevance for the time being. Yes, he might have first come across the tavern with a mind for less-than-highbrow entertainment, with the hour already guaranteeing he had already had a fill had more a few rounds of cheap, rather bad-tasting, but still remotely satisfying wine, but that was not what had him in a cheery mood for the time being. The name of such occasion was Liar’s Dice, a simple, but cleaver game that Damocles had learned about since his earliest days in the military. It was a game of deception and cunning, one where the outcome was not only determined by the roll owned, but also by the spread of those amongst the gambling table. Naturally, as such, the game was one he was well-acquainted with, one where he could flourish his calculations and analytics without having to wager much, aside coins and money. And his experience showed.
Now by his sixth streak of won success, the towering Captain of the Damned was awash with his gambling earnings, guffawing loudly as he relished his victories before swallow of his wine and contemplating his nighttime amusements. A crowd had gathered around him, of trollops and carousers that did not hide their pecuniary stares with obsequious words. For the most part, he wasn’t bothered by the gathering behind him. Damocles enjoyed the company of people after all, and he wasn’t going to just repel those that only wanted to have a bit of his money for themselves. As it was, he didn’t particularly care for the money itself. It was more about the thrill of winning, of the fact that he had outwitted any who had challenged him before, and that none could come to begrudge him for his use of his superior brains and cunning, which he rarely showcased unless needed. Frankly, it was all rather liberating in many ways.
Drunk not with drink, but with pride and confidence, the bellowing man laughed after one of his gathered sycophants made a poor attempt at having one of his coins and decided to test his luck even more. Perhaps it was time to not wait for challengers to just come to him without an prodding, without an open invitation. Thus, he lifted his gobblet and made his intentions clear, denouncing his place to see if any would fall further victim to his latest acquisitions.
“Would anyone here dare to test their mettle with me? Is there none here that can give me a challenge? If so step forward and try your luck!” Announced the amused militant with a jovial tone to his otherwise deep, booming voice. True, he had enjoyed winning quite frequently for the time being, but where was the sport in beating those that could barely put provide an answer to his inquisitions? There wasn’t any pleasure in simply gaining a favorable outcome with amateurs that could only hope to match the silver-eyed, Herculean man’s shrewdness. He wanted real sport and real competition, and would no longer suffer the unbearable company of those that could not make the game anymore interesting. It was only a roll of the dice and a predicated analysis, nothing more, nothing less. Surely, there had to be someone amongst the crowd that could unstable the blandness of the late hour. Right?
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Though it rarely made it a habit to mingling with the lowest populations of the capital, Damocles had to confess that, for as much as he enjoyed his conspiracies and schemes, of which nary anyone ever was aware of but him, still a certain charm and freedom came with being hidden away in the basest rings of Midas. Sure, the company was far less, intellectual, and the pleasurable accesses of the most primitive level of society far easier to sate, but there frankly was no denying that whenever he wanted to loosen up a bit and enjoy a bit of lighthearted fun, the lower levels were far less restrictive and easier to hide amongst than in those pretentious palaces and senate halls that the aristocracy was so fond of. And for as much as he longed to have his own barony, it still wasn’t exactly a secret that the Captain of the Damned occasionally feasted with the jugglers and
Yet none of that was of particular relevance for the time being. Yes, he might have first come across the tavern with a mind for less-than-highbrow entertainment, with the hour already guaranteeing he had already had a fill had more a few rounds of cheap, rather bad-tasting, but still remotely satisfying wine, but that was not what had him in a cheery mood for the time being. The name of such occasion was Liar’s Dice, a simple, but cleaver game that Damocles had learned about since his earliest days in the military. It was a game of deception and cunning, one where the outcome was not only determined by the roll owned, but also by the spread of those amongst the gambling table. Naturally, as such, the game was one he was well-acquainted with, one where he could flourish his calculations and analytics without having to wager much, aside coins and money. And his experience showed.
Now by his sixth streak of won success, the towering Captain of the Damned was awash with his gambling earnings, guffawing loudly as he relished his victories before swallow of his wine and contemplating his nighttime amusements. A crowd had gathered around him, of trollops and carousers that did not hide their pecuniary stares with obsequious words. For the most part, he wasn’t bothered by the gathering behind him. Damocles enjoyed the company of people after all, and he wasn’t going to just repel those that only wanted to have a bit of his money for themselves. As it was, he didn’t particularly care for the money itself. It was more about the thrill of winning, of the fact that he had outwitted any who had challenged him before, and that none could come to begrudge him for his use of his superior brains and cunning, which he rarely showcased unless needed. Frankly, it was all rather liberating in many ways.
Drunk not with drink, but with pride and confidence, the bellowing man laughed after one of his gathered sycophants made a poor attempt at having one of his coins and decided to test his luck even more. Perhaps it was time to not wait for challengers to just come to him without an prodding, without an open invitation. Thus, he lifted his gobblet and made his intentions clear, denouncing his place to see if any would fall further victim to his latest acquisitions.
“Would anyone here dare to test their mettle with me? Is there none here that can give me a challenge? If so step forward and try your luck!” Announced the amused militant with a jovial tone to his otherwise deep, booming voice. True, he had enjoyed winning quite frequently for the time being, but where was the sport in beating those that could barely put provide an answer to his inquisitions? There wasn’t any pleasure in simply gaining a favorable outcome with amateurs that could only hope to match the silver-eyed, Herculean man’s shrewdness. He wanted real sport and real competition, and would no longer suffer the unbearable company of those that could not make the game anymore interesting. It was only a roll of the dice and a predicated analysis, nothing more, nothing less. Surely, there had to be someone amongst the crowd that could unstable the blandness of the late hour. Right?
Though it rarely made it a habit to mingling with the lowest populations of the capital, Damocles had to confess that, for as much as he enjoyed his conspiracies and schemes, of which nary anyone ever was aware of but him, still a certain charm and freedom came with being hidden away in the basest rings of Midas. Sure, the company was far less, intellectual, and the pleasurable accesses of the most primitive level of society far easier to sate, but there frankly was no denying that whenever he wanted to loosen up a bit and enjoy a bit of lighthearted fun, the lower levels were far less restrictive and easier to hide amongst than in those pretentious palaces and senate halls that the aristocracy was so fond of. And for as much as he longed to have his own barony, it still wasn’t exactly a secret that the Captain of the Damned occasionally feasted with the jugglers and
Yet none of that was of particular relevance for the time being. Yes, he might have first come across the tavern with a mind for less-than-highbrow entertainment, with the hour already guaranteeing he had already had a fill had more a few rounds of cheap, rather bad-tasting, but still remotely satisfying wine, but that was not what had him in a cheery mood for the time being. The name of such occasion was Liar’s Dice, a simple, but cleaver game that Damocles had learned about since his earliest days in the military. It was a game of deception and cunning, one where the outcome was not only determined by the roll owned, but also by the spread of those amongst the gambling table. Naturally, as such, the game was one he was well-acquainted with, one where he could flourish his calculations and analytics without having to wager much, aside coins and money. And his experience showed.
Now by his sixth streak of won success, the towering Captain of the Damned was awash with his gambling earnings, guffawing loudly as he relished his victories before swallow of his wine and contemplating his nighttime amusements. A crowd had gathered around him, of trollops and carousers that did not hide their pecuniary stares with obsequious words. For the most part, he wasn’t bothered by the gathering behind him. Damocles enjoyed the company of people after all, and he wasn’t going to just repel those that only wanted to have a bit of his money for themselves. As it was, he didn’t particularly care for the money itself. It was more about the thrill of winning, of the fact that he had outwitted any who had challenged him before, and that none could come to begrudge him for his use of his superior brains and cunning, which he rarely showcased unless needed. Frankly, it was all rather liberating in many ways.
Drunk not with drink, but with pride and confidence, the bellowing man laughed after one of his gathered sycophants made a poor attempt at having one of his coins and decided to test his luck even more. Perhaps it was time to not wait for challengers to just come to him without an prodding, without an open invitation. Thus, he lifted his gobblet and made his intentions clear, denouncing his place to see if any would fall further victim to his latest acquisitions.
“Would anyone here dare to test their mettle with me? Is there none here that can give me a challenge? If so step forward and try your luck!” Announced the amused militant with a jovial tone to his otherwise deep, booming voice. True, he had enjoyed winning quite frequently for the time being, but where was the sport in beating those that could barely put provide an answer to his inquisitions? There wasn’t any pleasure in simply gaining a favorable outcome with amateurs that could only hope to match the silver-eyed, Herculean man’s shrewdness. He wanted real sport and real competition, and would no longer suffer the unbearable company of those that could not make the game anymore interesting. It was only a roll of the dice and a predicated analysis, nothing more, nothing less. Surely, there had to be someone amongst the crowd that could unstable the blandness of the late hour. Right?