He listens with tempered interest,   waiting for perhaps a catch or methodology to the game aside from just … literally throwing dice on the table.   Perhaps a game better played with bored sailors.   But the man is kind and easy to look at so he bites back any response too scathing.   ‘   Seems like there’s not much to be good at.   It’s a game of chance,   ‘   Ulrich hums.   That said,   odds and chance never seem to favor him,   either. 

        If nothing else,   he appreciates the care put into carving each dice.   They get through a handful of rounds and as he expects,   it’s just chance.   Duren ends up winning the first few and Ulrich the last ones,   until he grows tired of watching the dice spill onto the table and come up the same little symbols. 

          ‘   …   Look,   not that this isn’t,   thrilling,   but I’m afraid I’ve never been one for games like this.   I prefer fighting and,   well,   maybe anything else.   ‘   Eyes turn back to the other tiefling as his tail flicks behind him.   ‘   Any other bright ideas,   big guy?   ‘

Duren’s brows rose, and he glanced around the tavern. It was getting later, and most of the sailors had begun to slowly disperse. Living on a ship meant bright and early mornings. He subscribed to the same schedule, obviously, but wasn’t keen on losing this potential opportunity.

The tiefling pursed his lips in thought and looked back at Ulrich. He shrugged and said, “Well, could do a couple things. This blasted town doesn’t have much for nightlife, but -” He began collecting his dice.

“Wouldn’t be opposed to taking a couple drinks back to the ship. Could show you around. If yer interested, could probably end the night in bed.” His voice lacked any sort of sheepishness. Duren wasn’t one for subterfuge. He didn’t slyly seduce folks - he was more direct than that. If they were down, and so was he, then hell yeah.

His brow creased slightly. If Ulrich did go back to the ship, there might be a couple questions about...certain things on it. They weren’t a fishing boat. There were no nets, or anything like that. There were more cannons than any other feature, and it was obvious that the crew was pirates. 

    He had a way of perching his chin on the palm of his hand,   delicate in way as he watched Duren pull his sack off the floor.   Whatever he expected,   it wasn’t a small bag of dice.   Ulrich blinked at the item for a long moment and,   honestly,   racked his brain to figure out what the fuck the other man was talking about.   Had anyone back home ever just played or bet with dice?   Traveling merchants?   Maybe he’d seen it in other taverns along the way but never paid close enough attention to pick up what they were doing. 

      Coming up blank,   he tried to play off his confusion with a small laugh.   ‘   I suppose I’m more new than I thought,   I’m not sure what game this is supposed to be?   ‘   A tilt of his head,   before he took another drink.   ‘   Unless you want to play for money instead and not tell me,   wouldn’t blame you.   ‘

“Not a problem,” Duren said, and laid out the dice in front of Ulrich. They were basic six-sided dice carved from what looked to be some type of wood. However, rather than the normal pips - they were engraved with symbols. On one side there was a crown, an anchor, a diamond, spade, club, and heart. He seemed pretty proud of the set as he showed Ulrich the dice. It was, after all, a nicer set. Nothing overly exquisite but for a sailor he’d done well.

“It’s called Crown and Anchor - real creative, I know. So, ya basically...you call a symbol and it’s a one to one pay-out..but we’re not usin’ coin, so it’ll be like...points.” He scooped up the dice. There were six total, but he handed three of them to ulrich. “Since we’re not doin’ pay-outs we can do versus. Ya just bet which one is gonna pop up the most and whoever has the most of that symbol wins the round.”

“I’ll show you.” Duren then said he wagered it would be hearts, rolled the dice, and ......

         Brows quirked and he studied the other man a moment,   before simply shooting back,   ‘  Somethin’ like that   is an odd job,   never heard of it before.   ‘   But he didn’t press.   The stranger came on a boat,   he didn’t need a life story.   Just like how he wouldn’t be getting Ulrich’s life story either.   ‘   I guess I’m technically an armature adventurer,   more like a professional fuck off.   ‘

            Another drink,   he was getting tired of this conversation line.   He wasn’t here to talk about himself in any capacity,   aside maybe formal introductions,  something that occurs to him a few minutes in.   ‘   –  I’m Ulrich,   by the way,   ‘  the thought tacked on,   accompanied with another sidelong glance to his companion.

Not keen on going down the slippery slope he sensed they were approaching, Duren decided to change the topic once more. In fact, he sat up a bit straighter. This was someone he could actually enjoy being around. There was no bloody reason to act like a standoffish ass.

“I’m Duren, it’s nice t’ meet ya,” he said, and offered a hand for Ulrich to shake. The same cheesy grin twisted his features, and he waved for another mug of ale. Without missing a beat, the Tiefling grabbed his worn bag off of the floor and plopped it on the countertop. It was probably as old as the pirate himself. He shifted around in it, muttering “hold on” and finally pulled out a small bag. 

            Another kind of seaman,   if Ulrich had to guess,   crouched over the stool and unabashed in the way eyes scraped over his appearance.   Maybe he was partial to his own race because it didn’t bother him as much,   tail flicking behind him as a second drink was set on the counter.   ‘   Funny,   I try to uphold the same policy.   ‘ 

                  In the time it took to appreciate how truly shitty the ale was once again he considered how to respond.   It didn’t take long;   he had  routine for these sorts of questions.   ‘   Yeah.   Never been here before and I thought it might be nice to see a port town.   Turns out it’s pretty shitty,   ‘   he went on after a moment,   ‘   But I doubt anyone is really from this town,   and neither are you.   What,   fisherman?   Run on a merchant ship?   

“Never been ‘ere before, either,” Duren added. When Ulrich asked about his profession, the Tiefling’s tail twitched as he considered his response. Some people reacted well to it. Others thought it was a good idea to call the guards...as if they’d do anything. Duren suspected those sorts of responses mostly stemmed from appearance + profession = definitely a wanted criminal.

             This place wasn’t exactly his scene,   he found out after wandering around for awhile.   During the day it bustled with ships bringing imported goods and men calling from their booths.   No arena to fight in,   no quests to catch his eye.   A town of coming and going and Ulrich figured by the next day he would be on his way out.   But it was late now and his death wish was relatively low at the moment. 

   The tavern,   too,   was pathetically boring.   Mostly drunk sailors leering at a pretty stranger and he met their eyes with bared teeth.   But for once he wasn’t the only tiefling in the building.   He slid up to the bar and asked for whatever shit they had on tap,   determined to be at least get drunk enough to drown out rowdy laughter by the time he went to sleep.   That,   too,   turned out to be shit.   Ulrich sighed and ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on the bar stool,   eyes again drawn to the bright teal of the man a few seats down from him.

          ‘   …   You look less miserable and loud than the rest of the shitheads in here,   ‘   he hummed,   catching the strangers gaze.   ‘   Wanna drink with me?   ‘

After some time of longingly looking at the door, Duren had turned back in towards the bar. He ordered some more food, and opted to forget his qualms. 

That didn’t last as long as intended. By the time he was finishing up his stew, a notably blue face and bright orange eyes popped into his view. His brows raised in surprise. A few moments of silence passed between them as he fought the utter bewilderment he experienced. “Ah- er, yeah. Yeah, I’d have a drink wit anybody if they weren’t these arses,” he answered, and gestured to the tavern at large.

Duren pushed the empty bowl away from himself and shifted his stool closer to the other Tiefling. Another few moment of silence passed as he shamelessly perused the other’s appearance. He enjoyed the company of other Tiefs. Never met many, but it was refreshing to be around someone similar, at least.

@aetheriumshard

The noble lady was visiting a coastal town to meet with the lord from there. She was a tall, muscular woman with tusks and soft green skin. Although, her ears were much closer to an elf’s.

Her long, black hair was pulled back in a loose braid. She wore a simple chemise paired with a skirt and layered petticoats. A beautifully embroidered jacket adorned her torso. She wore leather boots with small heels. The heels left little clicks as she walked down the street.

With that in mind, he was caught by surprise when his gaze caught the finely dressed woman. He shifted off of the barrel and stretched, sighing as the breeze cooled him down. The sun was brutal on those docks. Salt, fish, and tar were the strongest scents - with sweat a steady undertone. 

His brows knitted together while his eyes followed her. In such finery, he was almost nervous for her. Duren began striding towards the half-orc, pace growing quicker as a couple of idiot crewhands walked by, crate of fresh fish in tow. They had the cargo balanced between them and were bickering over which way to go. Neither of them could see a damned thing around the crate, and Duren knew it was a recipe for disaster.