You walk through the beaten-up wooden door and find yourself in a long, low room lit by lanterns and a roaring fire. The furniture is well-worn wood, stained from years of use, and the floor is made of stone. Dice are strewn about the tables and the air smells like ale and people who haven't bathed in a year. The only person in it is a young man in his mid-20s with curly brown hair pulled into a ponytail in the usual non-descript jeans and t-shirt. He tosses a d20 into the air, smirks as it lands on 20 for the 82,884th time that day, and looks up at you disinterestedly as he sings quietly to himself. You get the feeling that 'borrowing' any of the dice would be a bad idea. Maybe it's the sword made out of dice propped against the bar's back counter...
(Tact's pissed about the topic editing on the B4R, so put your usual B4R spam here. Yes, we have your drinks.)
So, yeah. I'm bored and apparently getting sick. How's everyone else doing? *sips DICE*
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