LG108, Night Three — Roll No Good
The dice were already spinning in Master Rane’s ears when the voices squared off.
“Armiel cooked for both of them,” Novice Shifter said, chin high and eyes hot. Beside him, Apprentice Sozar nodded too hard, as if nodding could turn suspicion solid. “He’s the common thread.”
“Common thread’s a rope you’ve tied yourself,” Novice Emmett shot back from Rane’s side. “Armiel's cooked for all of us." Well? That was another question. "Just look how eager they are to defend him, Master Illi. How well do you know your peer really?”
Master Illi took in the arguments, palms spread, steady as deck timbers. “Enough tugging. We need to make a choice, not a tighter knot.”
Rane felt the Seethe thrum under the planks—an upwelling breath, then another, far out in the green. The sound of the dice braided through it: clatter-clatter, never landing. Braid dead. Itenii dead. Locked rooms and gray dust. Too many threads, not enough time. The ship had to keep moving. They were so close to land now, yet it still felt a lifetime away.
“Dice,” Rane said. The word came out calm. He slid a tin cup onto a coil of line between them and drew the bone pair he kept wrapped in cloth. Tiny chips scarred the pips where luck had once bit him and stayed. “Masters decide who’s removed by chance. High throw chooses. Loser submits to immediate removal from duty and goes ashore at Diggen’s Point to face the Duke and Duchess. No speeches after.”
Master Illi’s eyes met his. The other man’s mouth tightened—then he nodded. “Chance is cleaner than anger.”
“Cleaner than pretending we know something we don't,” Rane agreed, and dropped the dice.
They hit tin with a sound that cut clean through the ship’s creaks. Ten.
The spinning in his head stuttered and steadied, as if a string had been pulled taut across a chasm.
Master Illi shook the die once—no flourish, no prayer—and let go. The dice rattled, kissed the rim, teetered, and fell. Eleven.
Silence held. The Seethe’s next swell knocked soft against the hull, all breath and promise.
Master Rane breathed out. Some tension he hadn’t named unhooked itself from his shoulders and padded away. He glanced at Emmett (bristled; too bright), at thOmmAs (counting pips under his breath), at Sozar (already doing the next math), at Shifter (eyes unfocused, listening to a rhythm Rane recognized from his own skull).
Master Illi didn’t gloat. “You’ll submit?”
“Dice don’t lie to me,” Rane said, and smiled a small, surprised smile for how easy that felt on his mouth. “They never have.”
He reached to offer his wrists—but the dice-song bent like light on water, tugging his gaze sideways to the open rail and the emerald beyond. A green plain, still for a heartbeat, waiting for breath. The Seethe would lift soon; he could hear its timing in his bones the way Salay read it in her hands.
“Removal’s removal,” Rane said, more to the ship than anyone.
“Rane—” Illi started, one step forward.
Rane raised a palm without heat. “No heroics, remember? I trust the throw.” He winked at Emmett and thOmmAs—gentle, to take the sting from their victory and the weight from their blame—and clapped Sozar on the shoulder. “Keep your cups dry. Keep your hearts kinder than your fears.”
Then he was on the rail in one clean motion, balance easy as breath, the dice-song swelling in his head to a bright, right chord. The wind off the roiling emerald plain was dry as paper. The gulls were far away and wise.
He looked at Illi. “See you ashore.” He looked at the vast green expanse, and the Rock on the far horizon. “Or somewhere better.”
Master Rane stepped out into the dusk.
For a blink he fell toward the sea that wasn’t sea, the air around him gathering like a held inhale. Far below, the emerald shifted—then the Seethe rose, a long-breathed surge, and the wind took him sideways, out of sight against the glittering expanse.
On deck, no one spoke. Somewhere up by the quarter, a bell signaled for the crew to return to their cabins for the night. In Rane’s wake, the tin cup rocked once on its coil and went still, the bone dice inside resting on ten and eleven, truth side up.
(3) TwinStorm: A Jo in the Bush, Belandrius Ohhmar, The Unknown Hammerer,
(3) Araris Valerian: TwinStorm, CoderDrag0n8, Hoid Slayer,
(1) CoderDrag0n8: Araris Valerian,
(1) Hoid Slayer: STINK,
Master Rane (TwinStorm) jumped overboard after a fatal dice game. They were a Royal Loyalist.
Novice Shifter (Hoid Slayer) has been Wounded. They will die at the start of DAY FOUR unless 4/8 Players vote to heal him by the end of NIGHT THREE.
Night Three has begun and will end on Tuesday, October 10th, at 10:00 PM EST, approximately 24 hours from now.
If you did not receive your GM PM, please @mention me and I will remedy that ASAP.
Player List
@Araris Valerian — Armiel — Novice
@Belandrius Ohhmar — thOmmAs — Apprentice
@The Unknown Hammerer — Illi — Master
@TwinStorm — Rane — Master — Royal Loyalist
@CoderDrag0n8 — Sozar — Apprentice
@ThatOneWorldhopper — Fuejrheisjjeirjeujdjeuuduwii — Novice — Royal Loyalist
@RoyalBeeMage — William Thorne — Apprentice
@Hoid Slayer — Shifter — Novice
@IcedOutPenguin — Itenii — Novice — Royal Loyalist
@A Jo in the Bush — Emmett — Novice
@Doc12 — Braid — Novice — Royal Loyalist
@STINK — Roberto — Apprentice
Edited Tuesday at 12:20 PM by Amanuensis
