Joseph
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Zahrada, Astoria

"It's cute that you think you'd have the strength to catch anything." Mikhail quipped, watching as Daemon hurdled the rail to the balcony and started a slow descent. The prince moved to the ledge, making note of where the squire had stepped to follow the same path down. 

He was certainly a bit slower about it, not having thought his shoulder would be an issue but it certainly didn't help. When his boots hit the ground, he let out a breath, and dusted his hands on his trousers. 

"That's gonna be fun getting back up." He commented, and turned to Daemon, because he had no idea where in the seven hells they were going.
Edward
Daemon Coridon
Zahrada, Astoria

"I'll leave you to figure that out and climb up." Daemon smiled, patting him on the back before leading Mik away from the keep and down into the city. Slipping by a few guards pretty easily, it was night, and they were plainly dressed boys. He continued to lead Mik into the city of Zahada, passing by most of the nicer portions. Daemon would take him down alleys and roads. As they went, the area became increasingly poorer. 

The inn wasn't very nice looking on the outside and the noise could be heard from outside. Daemon smiled at Mik, "The best inn in Zahrada." As he gestured to it, then walked through the doors, double checking to make sure Mik was behind him. 

The inn looked as bad inside as it did outside. It smelled like bad ale, the patrons were mostly poor looking men dicing away what little money they had. Most people didn't take two glances at them when they entered. "See? I told you it was nice." Daemon smiled brightly.
Joseph
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Zahrada Astoria

The inn that they came upon was seedy looking at best. And it was only as they walked through the streets towards the outskirts of Zahrada did he realize he'd never been this far out from the castle. There was so much of Astoria he hadn't seen, and South Feyshore too for that matter. He wondered if his mother had seen this inn before. 

They stepped inside, and it was exactly what he'd expected, dimly lit with heavy lamps that burned hog fats for oils, and the smell of ale seemed to seep into the walls themselves. 

"It looks like your kind of place, Dae" He confirmed, not intending it as an insult but not going to apologize if it came off as one. "Did we come all this way for ale?"
Edward
Daemon Coridon
Zahrada, Astoria

Smiled, "It really is my kind of place." He looked at the old man running the bar, "Two please, Dan." Daemon said. And the ale was brought out quickly. 

"Of course not. We could drink anywhere. We came for that." Daemon pointed to the tables of men shouting about dice, then shifted his finger to the alternative table with significanlty less people, who were much more grumpy looking. 

"Ever play before?"
Joseph
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Zahrada Astoria

Mikhail saw the man at the bar look.Gim over, but no recognition sparked in his eyes. It was surprising not to be recognized, and the unbelievable freedom that had some with short hair and ink had been enough to force him out of his shell. 

Well that, and Daemon taking on the position of his personal guide to the world of trouble. 

He shook his head, watching a man cast a handful of dice onto the center pit of a table. "No." He answered simply, and took the ale that was given to him. He took a gulp of it, and choked to find it tasted like what he imagined ale would if someone had pissed in it. 

"This is vile."
Edward
Daemon Coridon 
Zahrada, Astoria

"Of course it's vile. The vile stuff makes you appreciate to good stuff." He said with smile before taking a drink, trying to suppress a shudder, and walking over to the table. The amount of money being tossed around wasn't much at all, but for most of the men at the table, it was most of what they had. 

"See? IT's pretty simple." Daemon gestured. "Five dice, high roll, then low roll. They do it to try and avoid loaded dice. If all the number happen to be the same, you win no matter what. If, for whatever reason your opponent gets all same numbers, then whoever had a bigger number wins. Or smaller number if it's low roll that turn. It's simple." Most of the men at the table were ignoring the boys, more intent at the game.
Joseph
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Zahrada, Astoria

He wasn't wrong about making you appreciate the good stuff. But he still wished it didn't taste like piss. The prince inhaled deeply, and moved to follow Daemon to the table. No one paid them any mind, taking them as observers in the game as Daemon explained the rules. 

With this hands clasped behind his back, Mika watched the dice fall into the well worn pit in the middle of the table. The man closest to him rolled all 4's, and the others groaned in unison as he took the pot. More coin was tossed down, and they started another round. The prince looked at Daemon, and raised a brow. 

"This is supposed to be fun?" He questioned as the man who had one the last pot won again with a total of 7.
Edward
Daemon Coridon
Zahrada, Astoria

"It _is_ fun. You don't feel the energy of not know if you're about to win or lose money? Other places will play with extra rules and pairings to make the game more exciting. Places like this keep it simple. It's supposed to be a easy way to pass the time and make, or lose, some money." He said, "Soldiers dice a lot and so do sailors. IT's not hard to carry dice around, unlike cards, they don't get ruined in wet weather. I would know, I've spent a fair amount of time with both." 

Someone scoffed at the claim that Daemon spent time with both sailors and soldiers, Daemon ignored them. 

"See? Watch" Daemon took out a small coin purse and put a few coins out. His turn cam to roll the five dice. The dice were six sided, but had a blank space and only went to five. Daemon dropped the coins in the cup and rolled a 32. Once it'd been passed around the table, the last man rolled a 35 and won the pot. 

"Exciting, isn't it?"
Joseph
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Zahrada, Astoria. 

"I don't think I'm drunk enough to appreciate it." Mikhail admitted, though he didn't feel like he'd enjoy it anyway. Daemon pulled the chair beside him and Mikhail took it, setting the ale beside him. From his own pocket he pulled a few coins, and placed them in. When the dice were handed to him, he laid his palm out flat, looking over them for a moment. 

They were warm, and it looked like the men playing had been at it for hours without any significant change in coin. He pressed his lips into a tight line, and cast the dice, watching as all five came to a stop in the center of the pit, each with a single dot facing upwards.