05. Send Nudes

[Ptolemaios]

3 Ashan 718

Off Topic

This thread contains a card game with foul imagery and language. Read with caution.

It is not uncommon in a city like Rharne for one to find a gateway for every vice. Men and women could visit brothels left and right. The aspiring alcoholics could find a tavern in almost every corner. Even those craving violence could brawl legally. That meant that humanity’s second most powerful vice - the first one being cocks or cunts - to also have a place in Rharne; gambling.

You didn’t have to look very far, either. A side street or an alley was often a place in which you could see shuffling decks or hear rolling darts. Tavern booths were also good places for betting a coin or two, always struggling to hold cards with one hand and a stein with the other. Clandestine gambling dens were not so popular, given that the extent of the law couldn’t quite penetrate dark basements or a business’ backrooms. For this reason, gambling had two faces; the public one, and the private one.

The law did not have any specific laws regarding gambling. As such, gambling fell under the jurisdiction of the general laws of the land. Nobody was going to bet an astonishing amount of coin in some tavern booth for that reason. If they lost, and they found themselves unable to pay the debt, you couldn’t beat a man to death or take payment in whatever way you saw fit. That’s why gambling dens existed. In there, you had to be damned sure to have credit to pay for your poor odds. If not, someone would either kill you, beat you, or find a way to get themselves paid.

With one measly golden nel, Maios wasn’t going into any gambling den. He knew a few - gambling had been one skill he had excelled at in the past. Had he not spent that coin long ago, he would have amassed a small fortune. Even so, he never saw the true side of the addiction. He played for fun, mostly because he was good at it. Winning ten golden nel or so for simple fun was always a bonus. His current financial disgrace demanded coin, and with his cigarettes being gone, the situation was critical.

There was a certain place in the Earth Quarter called the Barrel Pot. With Rharne’s large production of alcohol, the damaged barrels that could not be fixed were sold for a small fee to the government. The government then hired carpenters to repurpose the barrels into furniture, all proceeding to the Barrel Pot. It was the place to go if you wanted to win some coins, get some practice, or simply wanted a good time.

It seemed stupid to resort to a game of cards for the next meal. It seemed even stupider to gamble away coin that could purchase cigarettes. Maios was lucky in that regard compared to the rest of Rharnians. There were always those who were addicted to other sorts of substances, or cunts, or drinks. The thought of being one of the ‘lucky ones’, however, brought him no comfort - especially considering what he had left behind in a deadbeat village, two days prior.

Maios arrived, carrying all his bags, all his life with him. The temperature wasn’t exactly optimal, but it was overcast and there was no rain for now. The silent and surly man walked down the plaza, glancing down at the different games and inspecting the players.

He decided on a game of chivalry.

[Ptolemaios]

3 Ashan 718

Maios took a seat at a free table, the stools being carved out of barrels and the table being another barrel with a plain wooden surface nailed on top. His bags were placed between his fee, in case someone was keen enough to attempt a robbery. Even if they did, they wouldn’t find much of a booty. All he carried in those bags were rags, some rope, and a shaving razor he had yet to use for, at least, the middle of Cylus. But all that stuff felt important to him. Critical. Even if he had no change of underwear, all the shit tumbling about in the limits of his bags was all he owned. Losing it would feel like losing a part of himself - his identity.

Not a minute passed before some traveling young lass stopped by his table. The girl donned simple clothing and carried a large wicker basket atop her head. Green eyes gave him warmth, and her smile could warm the coldest of hearts. She offered him drinks, dried fruit, or candy. He asked for a chilvary and chastity deck of cards. She left the basket and searched in its depths. She found one, wrapped, as everything else was, in old, stained fabrics.

Two silvers. Two! It seemed like a fortune. It was a fifth of his total credit, so he kept staring at the cards as if he was investing in real estate. Something else worried him, but the girl wouldn’t wait for him to ponder like some old cunt. He pulled out his single golden nel, bought the deck, and asked for her to change it into coppers. He asked and he received; 80 copper coins is what he ended up with. After counting them twice - pretty girls often skipped a coin or two - he sent her on her way. She’d probably go to her stash and change up the coins.

Maios inspected the deck. It was acceptable quality-wise. It had been a long time since he had touched a deck of cards. His wife hadn’t cared about games and his daughters liked dominoes and dice rather than cards. But he still knew how to handle them, even with one hand. Let’s hope you don’t gamble away your mansion this time, he thought, threatening himself.

He inspected the deck. Two maidens, four nudes, eight cocks, eight traps, and four mists. Twenty-six cards, as it was meant to be. The cards were carved out of a single wooden block, so they were cumbersome for the hand. They had been sanded on the reverse to avoid memorizing the fibers of the wood. The art on the front was not very special; the maidens, which were meant to be sexy damnsels in revealing clothing, seemed to be holding in gasses by the looks of their faces. The nudes, meant to be representations of lusty prostitutes, seemed third-grade women full of lice - basically Dust Quarter whores. The cocks were cocks, and they came in various shapes and sizes. The artist had done that part very well. The mists were very rushed; Maios, no matter how much he looked at them, only saw waves, or breeze, or something on the likes. The traps, on the other hand, were excellent. Men with tits, women with beards, and all sorts of sexual inconsistencies were present in each cards.

It was time to announce he was open to play. There were usually two options; leave a coin or leave a stone. Stone meant a game for pure entertainment, for the sake of playing. The coin meant betting actual coin. If you left a copper, you played for coppers. If you left a silver, for silvers. If you left gold, you’d probably get robbed. Maios left a single copper in the center of the table, crossed his arms, and waited.

He wanted to smoke.

He wanted to smoke.

He wanted to smoke.

He had no cigarettes. It wouldn’t be too long before he started sniffing and sucking his nails, trying to get out the last of the tobacco’s horrible flavor out of them. The temptation to get up and buy cigarettes was there, but he resisted it. He had to eat, too. Sleeping on the street wasn’t something he wanted to repeat, either. Someone approached, looked at the deck, and moved on. It happened again. And again.

Did people play Chivalry and Chastity anymore?

[Ptolemaios]

3 Ashan 718

Finally, someone came. This someone was an old, gallant-looking male with a mighty white moustache. His eyes had been thinned out, surely trying to decipher Maios. Maios looked back, plain. Unamused. Bored. There was a certain breed of hunting dogs with large dewlaps, elastic skins and hanging flesh. Whatever they were, Maios was one of them. Had he been smarter, he would have smiled. He would’ve started talking, saying things like ‘hey, friend, join me for a good time’ or some other bullshit, especially before a male as rich-looking as this fellow. Posture like that didn’t come from the Earth Quarter. To wield a chest so high up meant either Sky Quarter or Glass Quarter - which meant coin.

Not Maios, however. He couldn’t stand people. Maybe this was because of his old age or his disgraceful life, but he couldn’t stand them. Those that called him neighbour in Mistral Village rarely got a word out of him, and, if he remembered correctly, none of them had gotten a nice word.

“Rules of the land?” Asked the old man. Even with hair as white as the fluffiest clouds, the voice was confident and firm. He was older than Maios, but just as lucid and sharp as he was.

Maios nodded. He gestured towards the opposite chair with a quick gesture. The man joined him. He spit the wooden deck in half and gave one to the man. They began drawing cards, revealed, looking for the maidens. His opponent had both. Maios took the dark-haired one. He wasn’t into blondes. His opponent seemed content with this decision. The girl interrupted, offering her stock to the well-dressed male, who bought himself a bottle of wine, some chewy candy, and asked for a golden nel to be changed. The girl served him, but lacked the coins for the change, promising she’d return ‘in a bolt’, as Rharnians called it.

They shuffled the deck whilst they waited. All cards save the maidens were turned facedown on the table, and both men began moving them around as much as they could. When they had shuffled enough, they stopped and waited for the girl to return. Whitey had, meanwhile, opened his bottle and took small swigs from it. Maios tapped his reduced number of fingers on the wooden surface. He was nervous. Whitey had elegant clothing. Coin could offer a lot of advantage in a game of Chivalry, but it could also mean bigger profit for Maios himself. He was even more nervous.

The girl returned, carrying a small pouch of copper coins. Whitey counted them, and tipped her with a whole silver. Maios was too poor to tip her. Shit, she probably should’ve spared a coin for him now that he thought about it. He knew he smelled. His nose was blocked by all his allergy-induced snot - Ashan was a rough season for him - and he had partially gotten used to his smell. But he knew. You walk around for three days, you sweat, you get rained on, you visit the dust quarter and you sleep in a corner… Wet dogs would want nothing to do with him. Whitey didn’t seem to mind. Maios, simply, didn’t care.

Bets on the table. Five coppers each.

Time to play.

[Ptolemaios]

The maidens remained revealed, and each player got four cards for themselves to peruse at will for their planning. Sixteen cards in the stack.

Maios got lucky; very lucky. Two nudes, one cock, and a mist. Cocks were attack units. Nudes were defense units. Mists modified other cards, making them more powerful. They could also be used for defense, but that was a newbie’s move. He looked up at Whitey. His expression was blank, already looking back. He wasn’t going to give anything away with his expression.

Maios raised five coppers. Whitey followed. Twenty coppers in the pot, seventy coppers in the pocket.

Whitey had found the first maiden, so it was Maios’ turn to send. He sent a cock. Whitey thought about it. He thought about it some more. Whitey sent a trap. Tie.

Three cards each, two cards burned, sixteen in the stack.

Having no cocks would be difficult. Cocks were the quintessential unit; they were the only ones that could capture the maiden. Ideally, a cock wasn’t drawn until a few cards had been purchased, but starting with a nude (or a mist!) was simply idiotic. Now a cock had been burned, and that lowered the chances of success.

Whitey drew a card from the stack; so did Maios. Fourteen cards in the stack. Whitey’s turn.

Maios had drawn a trap. It was good. Traps were the attack unit, even more so than cocks. Cocks were important to capture the maiden, but traps could capture nudes. Combined with mist, they could take any unit except mist combined with cock. He looked up. Whitey was planning his next move.

He drew. Mist. Damn it. He didn’t have a cock. Losing a nude would be problematic. As by the rules, Maios was allowed to draw a card. He did. Another trap. He sent it.

Whitey sent a cock. Whitey wins. He kept the cock, and burned both mist and trap. He drew one additional card. Maios couldn’t.

Whitey raised ten coppers. Maios paid them. Forty coppers in the pot, sixty in the pocket. Four cards burned, twelve in the stack.

Maios thought about his next move. He had a trap, a mist, and two nudes. It was his turn to send. He looked up, and studied Whitey. Those eyes were a façade too difficult to demolish. Only one more free draw was allowed, and his chances were getting slimmer. He sighed.

Maios sent a trap. Whitey drew a cock. He won, again. He kept the cock, and burned the trap.
They both drew a card from the stack, last free draw.

Maios was happy. He had drawn a nude.

[Ptolemaios]

Three nudes in hand. This was a special occasion. Victory, he believed, was his. Maios only needed a cock.

Whitey drew. Mist. He was probably going to draw a trap and a cock. What he didn’t expect was Maios to draw his own mist.

Two mists equals an orgy. Whitey looked up. He looked worried. He drew a trap. Maios drew a nude. Whitey cringed. He drew a trap. Maios drew a second nude.

There he was. The stutter, the doubt. He only had a chance if he drew a third trap, but he didn’t seem to have one at hand. He bought a card for the pot’s value; fourty coppers. He didn’t draw. He burned whatever he had gotten. He bought a second card for double the pot’s value; eighty coppers. He sighed. He drew a cock.

Maios drew his third nude. He won the hand. The mist and two nudes were burned, and he took the cock, the trap, and the one nude. There was no point in playing anymore. Whitey couldn’t afford another card. He simply pushed the maiden forward, and Maios drew the cock.

The Maiden had been fucked. Maios won the pot; sixteen silvers. He collected his winnings and the cards. He wasn’t happy yet; now they had to play the second part, the game of chastity. He looked up at Whitey, who was disappointed. He took a swig from his bottle of wine, swallowing sadness. Maios would bet one of his balls it wasn’t because he cared about this change. It was his ego what was hurt. It surely stinged even more now that he had lost it to someone as, objectively speaking, detestable as Maios.

It mattered not. Having won the first game, Maios had a tremendous advantage in the game of chastity. He only hoped he could milk Whitey for some more coin.