Role

Chapter 3

The silence of the crowd was palpable. The eyes of each onlooker were
glued to a red haired dwarf, well-trimmed and clad in intricately
designed jewelry and metalware, as the dwarf flicked dual dice
between his thirteen fingers. On the opposite end was a lithe drow,
with glowing red eyes clad in a black speckless robe. The drow
seemed to mutter some incantation underneath his breath, before
whispering in a low raspy voice as he fumed at Ghrunkel.

'You will not win this time, dwarf. You took too much from us. The
Conclave is not pleased.'

Ghrunkel stared haughtily at his opponent with a nonchalant smirk on
his face.

"Har! Yeh stupid mages thinkin yer ken beh changin meh luck an fate
wit dese stupid dice? A dice beh a dice, an da Dhrunkul's beh da masteh
o' da dice!"

Ghrunkel unabashedly and courageously through the dice without seeing
the small smirk and look of triumph on the drows face. The onlookers
gasped, as many of them had their life fortune on this role. The
Dhrunkul luck was famous within the Seaport, even moreso than their
ironcrafting business.

Snake eyes.

A low chuckle emerged from the drow, transcending in a high pitched
cackling laughter. The onlookers were astonished, as Ghrunkels infamous
luck seemed to have failed him.