Gutter Rat's Gambit - Chapter 2 - The Drowned Pirate

I looked at the scrawny one-eyed sailor and smiled, “Welcome to my table, I am —.”

“I don’t care about your name, boy,” he said, rudely interrupting me, “I want what’s in your coin purse.”

I stopped and stared intently at the man.  He was the sort of fellow I enjoyed taking coin from -- rude and arrogant.

This will be fun.

I placed three coppers on the table and gave him the dice cup.  The challenger always goes first in this game of chance.

Now, I’ll stop the story here for a moment to tell you more about my father.  See, he was a pirate and though I never met him I’d bet he was a gambler and a risk taker.  Ever since I was born, I was thrilled by risk.  The chance of getting caught or losing never crossed my mind.  Only the chance of winning and all the money I would get.  That was the only thing that incorrigible scumbag ever gave me.  Now back to the story.

So here we are -- the drunken sailor and I, about to roll dice in a tavern.  He took the cup and inspected the dice with a few free rolls.

“I see they roll true,” he said with a bit of a slur.

“Of course, why wouldn’t they?” I asked. “I’m not a cheat.  Just a gambler like you.”

He placed the dice back into the cup, shook them vigorously and threw them out of the cup onto the felt-lined tray.  They bounced around, hitting the walls, finally coming to a rest with two threes for a total of six.  I scooped up the dice and placed them back in the cup.  I felt something inside me.  A warm fuzzy feeling.  It was my luck.  It was on my side tonight.

I am going to win.

I shook the cup and rolled the dice into the tray. They spun around and came to a rest -- a five and a two for a total of seven.

“Damn! Double or nothing?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied.  That was the point after all.

We each placed three more copper pieces onto the table as a hooded figure dressed in black walked up and said, almost whispering, “I call next.”

The one-eyed man glanced over quickly before returning his gaze to me.  I handed him the dice, and he shook the cup once more.  Losers also throw first.  He lowered the cup to the tray, throwing the dice even harder than before and they rolled out, bashing against the opposite wall and both spinning like two unsynchronized dancers.  They landed on double fours for a total of eight.  This was going to be tough to beat, but I felt my luck still warming my belly.  

I am going to win.

I picked up both dice and placed them in the cup.  I shook them around a few times, cupping my hand over the opening and then lowered the cup to the tray in one smooth motion.  They spun out and landed on double sixes. I let out a howl that caused some of the patrons to turn and look at me.

“You cheated me!” the one-eyed sailor barked, “You bastard!”

“Well, a bastard I may be, but I did no such thing, you fool,” I replied, wounded.  “I won fair and square,” I said, as he got up from his seat with a grumble and walked away to the bar.

The hooded figure appeared and took the seat in front of me, lowering her hood as she sat.  She was an elf -- most likely a thief or assassin from the way she dressed.  She had a slender face with a coppery complexion and beautiful green eyes.  Her ears were pointy and pierced with two gold rings in each ear lobe, behind which she had tucked her shoulder-length brown hair.

“Well, well, it’s not often I get to play dice with such a beauty,” I blurted out.

“Leave the flirtatious banter for the wenches,” she replied calmly.

“Very well,” I said, “what’s your bet?”

The woman placed six coppers on the table.  I grinned and placed the same amount.  She was after what I took from the poor soul before her -- and more.  I could tell it in her eyes.  This was going to be a challenge.  She picked up the dice and put them in the cup.  She shook the cup for a moment and released them onto the felt-lined tray.  She rolled an eight.  If luck was on my side, I had a chance.  I checked my gut.  It was ice cold.

Shit.

I picked up the dice and loaded them into the cup.  I shook the cup and rolled the dice onto the tray -- double threes for a total of six.  She smiled and took the copper pieces.  I continued to lose to her time and time again.  Then it was late and I was down to my last silver piece.  I should give up and call it quits.  But I’m not a quitter.  I eyed her up and down and looked down at my hands.  On my right hand was a gold ring with an emerald in it.  I had picked it from the hand of a wealthy noble in Daggerkeep -- it and the silver piece was all I had left.  But then I had an idea. A crazy idea -- and a warm fuzzy feeling.

The elf had started to get up from the table with her winnings when I stopped her.

“Look here, ma’am,” I started, “I have a single silver piece and this here gold ring.  It’s worth a lot – maybe even more than all the coins in your purse.” I pointed to the leather pouch in her elegant hands, “Give me one more shot at winning.  Winner takes all.”

She laughed. “You don’t know when to quit do you? You men are all the same. Gambling away your earnings for the thrill of it,” she said, looking up to see the seriousness in my eyes. “Very well, young man.  It’s your loss after all.”

I placed the gold ring and the silver piece on the table and said a prayer that I didn’t think would work.  I picked up the dice nervously.  I placed the dice in the cup and shook them around, then rolling them out onto the tray.  They landed on double fives for a total of ten.  That would be hard to beat.  I let out may breath and smiled.  She noticed I had relaxed, thinking I had won.  She gathered the dice and placed them in the cup.

“I’ll give you one last chance to walk away with your dignity and silver,” she said, confident.

“No, I believe this is your last chance.  I trust my luck,” I replied, also confident.

“Luck? Only fools believe in luck.  Winners make sure to even the odds in their favor,” she said, shaking the cup in her hand as she placed the other over the opening.

That is when I saw it.  I saw her sleight of hand.  She was playing with loaded dice!  As her arm went down to throw out the dice, I stood, reaching across the table and caught her arm around the wrist.

“I saw the move,” I growled between gritted teeth, “you swapped the dice for loaded ones.”

“Of course I did, only fools rely on chance,” she laughed, pulling her arm away.

“You cheated,” I said as I reached for her coin purse.  “Give me what is owed!”

Suddenly, I found a dagger at my throat and everyone in the room looking at the commotion we were making. 

Barik shouted from the back of the bar, “HEY! NO KILLING AT THE TABLES!! If you want to spill blood, you’ll be cleaning it up yourself!”

I could see her options race through her mind.  She withdrew the dagger from my throat.

“You two better sort it out quick or I’ll put you both on the wall of regrets,” Barik continued as he walked up to the table.  I knew the rules of the house and so did she.

“She cheated me and I caught her,” I yelled out, unable to stop myself.

“Well, then perhaps the house should decide her fate,” he said with a menacing grin.  

She knew her fate would not be a good one if the house had a vote. “That’s alright.  I will give him what is owed,” she said with a scowl.

“Good, now can you pay your tab, too?” he asked with a wicked whink.

The elf dropped her head forward, shaking it to indicate “no.”

Barik smiled widely and called to the back of the bar.  Two burly men came out of the back room with menacing looks on their face.

“I’ll pay what she owes,” I said quickly. “There is no need for violence tonight.”  

Barik looked at me curiously.  “Suit yourself,” he replied, waving away the two men.

The elf looked at me and nodded as if to say “thank you.”  Barik walked away and the crowd went back to drinking as the elf glided quietly out through the front door and into the night.  I sat back down and sighed.  

What a relief!  That could have ended badly.

I waved over a wench and asked if they had a room for the night.

“Two copper to sleep where you are, three to sleep by the fireplace. If you fancy a private room, it’s five silvers,” she replied.

“Is the private room secure?” I glanced around at the crowded bar.

“The only secure room we have is the captain’s quarters and by the looks of you, you can’t afford that.”

“Very well, I’ll take one of the private rooms,” I said, defeated.

“Go pay Barik and he will provide the key,” she directed.

I got up walked to the bar and paid Barik. He took a key off the wall behind the bar and handed it to me. The key ring had a 3 on it.  

“Thank you, Barik.”

He grunted and nodded in reply.  I took the hallway next to the bar and headed to room three.  When I got there, I opened the crappy lock with the key and shut it behind me.  The room was small and windowless, the only light coming from a candle hanging on the wall.  The bed was a thin mattress laid out on the floor, stained yellow and smelling of piss.  I turned to lock the rickety door, but the lock was loose and wobbled.  Locking the door to the room probably wouldn’t matter anyway, since the thieves who frequented the tavern could pick most locks quicker than Barik could pour a glass of ale.  I was going to sleep with one eye open tonight.

The next morning, I headed back to the main room.  Barik was attending the bar, and a few patrons were scattered about. I decided to sit at the bar at its lowest spot so I didn’t have to climb a tall stool.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked.

“I have a stew, a meat pie, or fish.  Same as dinner.”

“I’ll have the meat pie and a mead,” I replied.

He went to the backroom and returned with a meat pie and a side of pickled onions.  He filled a tankard of mead and set it next to the plate.  I looked at the flaky yet greasy pastry and broke it open to reveal a cold center filled with meat.

“What’s in this meat pie?” I asked.

“Pork,” Barik replied with a grin.

I took a bite out of one of the pieces and chewed the “pork.” It was rubbery and gamey and definitely was not pork.  For all I know it could have been sewer rat or seagull.  I ate both pieces and started on the pickled onions. I knew why they served them after I had swallowed my last bite of meat pie.  It was to cover up the disgusting after taste.  I washed it all down with the mead, which was fruity with a hint of apples and cinnamon.  It was obviously smuggled mead from Daggerkeep that you could only get during Harvestrise.  Boy, did I love it.  I prefer to drink mead during the day and ale at night.  If this makes me a drunkard or a lush, so be it.

Water is for fish.

I finished my mead and paid my tab.  I walked out the door and into the morning sun.  It was a beautiful day, and the street was only just beginning to fill with people.  I thought again of what the elf said about only fools believing in luck.  She was right – and I wasn’t a fool.  I needed to have my own set of weighted dice to counter cheaters so I headed to the shop where I bought my dice set in Daggerkeep and got a second pair.  It was too late to work on them before renting a room for the evening, so over candlelight in room number 3, I crafted my own weighted dice set.  Always to land on double six.

The thought of being called a cheat bothered me.  I was many things, but none of them a cheat.  So, I decided I would only use them if I felt the other player was cheating first.  After all, I could sense in the pit of my stomach whether the other guy was playing fair and if he wasn’t, I’d switch my dice and he’d be none the wiser.

The next morning, I skipped the pie and sat at a table with a tankard of mead.  I pulled out my dice game and set it up.  A sailor with puffy red eyes and clearly fighting a hangover approached the table.  He placed four copper pieces down and I returned the gesture in kind with my own.  He rolled his dice and came up with eight. That was going to be tough to beat.  But I felt my luck in my belly.

I am going to win.

I placed my dice in the cup and shook it violently.  I poured them out onto the felt-lined wooden box, and they bounced off the walls spinning and tumbling around.  They both landed on six for a total of twelve.  The sailor cursed me and called me a cheat, which I was not.  I was just lucky.  I called him a drunken bastard, and he got up from the table and stormed out the front door of the tavern.  A few patrons watched him leave, gave a laugh and went back to their tankards.

Afterward, I spent my days playing with those that were willing and made some coin, and though my luck wasn’t always consistent, I lost less often.  Most were losses due to chance and I could live with that.  It was the thrill of the game for me, but here’s the thing about winning so much:  it attracts attention and not always the good kind. I’d made a name for myself as quite the dice player around the tavern and around the town.  Regular patrons became wary of playing with me and those that did often attempted to cheat.  I’d had quite a few scuffles with drunken sailors and I’d started to always carry a knife on my belt, but it was the more frequent need for my new dice which became the problem for me.  My luck had finally run out and it was time for me to leave The Drowned Pirate, which had been my home for many months.  So, I packed my dice and left quietly one night to find a new place to call home.