Betting and Raising in Poker

I hate stories that start with questions. Have you ever killed someone? Fuck no. Have you done something you regret? Yes, I'm a fucking human. Does a bear shit in the woods? You answer that for yourself.
But now I must violate my own rule. I must ask: why?
*
I'm told that I have a foul mouth. I prefer the term "colorful language." See, my dad was a trucker. He didn't get road rage- he was better than that- but if someone ever messed with him off the road, he could lay into them. And not just verbally. Twice he almost got fired for beating the shit out of people.
I know what you're thinking. What an asshole, right? Wrong. He never provoked people. They were the ones who messed with him. He always went through shitty little towns in Virginia or Missouri or God knows where and dealt with the scum of the Earth. If you live anywhere like that, I am truly sorry.
He worked his ass off to put me in college. I, in all of my wisdom, decided to major in English. My mom was a teacher, so I guess I got my interests from her. My dream was to become a writer. That turned out poorly once I realized all I could write about were cliches and overused plots.
So I joined a newspaper. They get a lot of flack these days, but most journalists are good people. I fucking hate reporters, the ones that you see crowding people on TV, but still, it's their job. What do you want them to do? Not report anything?
I make enough to stay afloat. No more than that. I live in a small apartment with no air conditioning, and that's where all of this shit started. Correction: it’s near where everything started.
The story in question happened exactly two years from today. I could not bear to tell it then, not even to my mom and brother. Now I finally feel ready to share.
My job doesn't always require that I go in, but on this fateful day I had to, because there was an office-wide meeting with the CEO. Keep in mind, our paper was pretty small, no more than twenty employees. So our CEO was a pretty chill woman.
I have to take the bus because I'm poor as fuck. Usually I walk half a mile to the bus stop, then ride for about thirty minutes until I get off, walk another ten minutes, and by magic I arrive at our building. It's a pain, especially when driving would take half the time, but hey, I guess I fucked myself with my degree.
A block or two from my bus stop, there was this guy, Tim. The name makes him sound benign. He was not. He was an acquaintance of mine at the time. If I ever needed dope, I'd text him and he'd tell me to come over. I made a good customer, and he always enjoyed taking my money.
My mistake was asking for a loan. Since I'd always given him business, he of course obliged. Little did I know that I was about to get fucked that month. My appendix burst, and my ER visit cost me a lot of money. More than I could afford. I had to sell a couch and my only TV to pay for the initial charge.
Needless to say, that did not leave me with much to pay Tim. So I told him I needed time. Fine, he said. He knew I would pay up eventually.
Except I never did. In my haste to pay the bills and monthly installments for the ER visit (thank God they allow for payment plans), I had almost no money to spare. The little I could have given him got spent on beer. I'm not an alcoholic, I don't even drink that much, but when life takes a shit on you, sometimes alcohol's the only way to go.
Let's go back to that morning, the one where I had a meeting with my coworkers. Remember how I said Tim lived near the bus stop? That meant I had to pass by his house. Sometimes he'd be smoking on the porch and wave. Recently, he had been giving me the look, the one that said pay up or I'll have your head.
As it turns out, that interpretation wasn't far from the truth.
He jumped me as soon as I rounded the corner. Since my commute was long, I had to leave early, at about seven. No one was outside, save for the few commuters like myself who were likely at the bus stop by then. Which, as I said, was a couple blocks away.
I remember seeing him on his porch. He looked happier than usual, like he’d just gotten laid. I should know; he got even less girls than me, and he often spent our time together bitching about it. When he was in a good mood, more often than not it involved sex.
Good for him. I didn’t think anything of it. What did I care how he felt?
That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was saying hello to him. I still believe that if I hadn’t done that, he might not have seen me. He was staring into the distance, smoking his cigarette, until he heard my goddamn voice and pulled out a gun.
It was not a small one, either. He was holding a desert eagle. Don’t ask me how he got one, I don’t fucking know. All I know is that seeing that thing nearly made me shit myself.
He beckoned for me to come over, and you can bet your ass I listened. No way was I going to mess with him, not when he could kill me. He probably would have aimed for the gut, made it as painful as possible. He would have gotten caught- kind of hard to hide that shit out in the open- but he would have done it anyways. I know he would have.
“Inside,” he said. “Now.” I ran inside like I was running from a bear. He was right behind me, and any hope of escape died once he closed that door.
He led me down to his basement. It was unfinished and had a concrete floor. I’d only been down there once, when he gave me a bit of his “special stash.” Laced weed, in other words, and it was good, so good that I was willing to pay triple. Being the broke twenty-something year old I am, that was high praise.
“Where’s the money, Jack?” he asked me.
“Hey, nice to see you, too,” I said. “Now, could you please lower the fucking gun?”
Tim shook his head. “I don’t think so. You’ve had three months. That’s a lot of time to pay back one grand. You have a job, right?”
I had no choice but to admit that I did.
“So you should have the money.”
I had told him about my appendix. I figured it was worth telling him again. Before I could get far into my explanation, he stopped me.
“I don’t give a shit about your appendix,” he said. “I want my money. Now.” He grinned. “Or I will resort to other methods of payment.”
I did not like the sound of that. “I’ll get you your money,” I promised. “Just give me a little more time. A couple weeks.”
I could have done it. I would have needed to eat ramen every day and beg on the streets at night, but I could have managed. Having a gun in your face provides a special kind of motivation.
He wouldn’t allow it. “Uh-uh. You either have it or you don’t. I’ll walk with you to an ATM, if you need. But you’re not leaving my sight until I get something.”
I’m not great with money. I had blown most of what I’d had the previous night at a poker game. I had thought, in all of my genius, that I could win enough to pay my monthly hospital bill and start saving for Tim. Fat chance. My checking account now had a whopping total of $350. That was supposed to be enough for two and a half weeks of expenses.
“I don’t have it,” I said.
Tim still had that damned grin on his face. “I guess that leaves option B.”
“And what is-“ I don’t know what happened next. All I remember is him lowering the gun, then something crashed over my head.
*
I woke up in a shadowy room. There were torches on the stone walls, like some kind of medieval shit. I was cuffed, and those cuffs were attached to chains on the floor.
“You’re awake,” a voice said. I strained to see who had spoken. The voice had come from somewhere behind me.
I didn’t have to wait long. A beast of a man appeared at my side. He was what I imagine you’d get if you combined Arnold Schwarzenegger with an NBA player. The man was tall, muscular, and he looked like he could squeeze my brains out with his bare hands.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked. In hindsight, that was not the right thing to say. He backhanded me. I think he tried to be gentle, but my head snapped back, and I could feel blood running from my nose.
“I do the talking,” he said. I didn’t think arguing was a smart idea, so I complied.
“Come on over, Tim,” he said. And there he was. The bastard was wearing a brown cloak, and he had a dagger in his hands.
“What the fuck is this, Tim?” I said.
Tim pulled back his arm as if to stab me, but the big man put a hand on his arm. “Allow me.”
The man punched me in the gut, and I think that time he didn’t hold back. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my insides had been shoved through a grinder, and when I finally did take a breath, I coughed up blood.
Not good, you may be thinking. You’d be right. But it was about to get so much worse.
“I’m part of a special… organization,” Tim said. “We believe that there is another world adjacent to ours. One that holds special beings. We’d like you to help us learn more about them.”
“And how can I do that?” I said without a tinge of sarcasm. I was not about to argue with him. He was crazy, sure, but if I said that to his face I was afraid the big man would crack my skull open.
“Simple,” Tim said. “We need a blood sacrifice.”
I took a moment to process that. If I hadn’t been in chains, I would have slugged the fuck out of him, with or without the big man in the room. Alas, all I could do was give him my meanest glare and spit at his feet.
The big man laughed. I could not understand what he found so amusing. When he stopped, Tim resumed with his explanation.
“We’re going to kill you,” he said. “But slowly. We have to let out as much blood as possible before you die.”
I waited for him to continue. That was it. He didn’t have any more to say. He simply held his dagger in front of me and smiled.
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
“Oh, but I am. Our last sacrifices didn’t work. The ones that I thought had a chance couldn’t last long. But you? I think you’re tougher than you look. We only need a liter of blood. That should be easy enough for a man of your size.”
I’m no lightweight at six feet, but a liter of blood sounded like a lot, even for me. Tim held his dagger out like an offering, and I strained against the cuffs on my wrists. It did no good.
“You should be grateful,” Tim said. “You will get to witness what no mortal has before. We will finally learn about these creatures, and then all will rejoice.”
“Hold on.” Tim actually let me speak. “How the hell does that work? How come you haven’t been able to do this with anyone else?”
“As I said. They weren’t strong enough. And this process, well… it takes a special person. The others were not special enough.”
“Special how?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Let me guess.” I smiled despite the blood on my face. “You think I’m more fucking retarded than your dad.” I knew that would hit hard, because his dad has mild autism. Harsh, I know, and I would never make fun of someone like that, not in any normal situation.
I’m pretty sure Tim wanted to kill me then. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew what he wanted from me. He must also have known that a quick death would be too generous.
He didn’t waste more time talking. He had the big man restrain me, and then he started cutting. First it started off benign- a couple small cuts on my arms. Blood dribbled down into a basin I hadn’t seen before. I figured, okay, if it continues like this I’ll be fine.
Except it didn’t. Tim just wanted to give me hope. That, and he wanted me to bleed out as slow as fucking possible. He waited to see my reaction, and when it didn’t please him he made another cut, this time across a vein.
Have you ever seen movies where someone slits their wrists and dies? You know how much blood comes out from that? Yeah, it’s not an exaggeration. One of the few things movies get right.
I knew in that moment that my death would not be slow. It would be terrifying, though, which I guess is what Tim might have been going for. I didn’t feel pain, at least, just a pressure in my arm. There was also the blood, which had started to run in rivulets down my arm and onto my clothes. My fucking work clothes. I really liked that button-down shirt.
Struggling only made it worse. More blood spurted out, and before long I was starting to feel dizzy, like I had just been spun around in a chair. Except the dizziness didn’t go away. If anything, it got worse, to the point where I felt like I was falling when I was really sagging against my chains.
“That’s enough,” the big man said. He was in front of me now. I hadn’t even noticed that he had let go. It clearly hadn’t mattered, because I barely had the energy to stand. If you could call being hunched over a basin on your knees standing.
I prided myself on remaining conscious. It might have meant nothing, had I died unbeknownst to the world, but I couldn’t help myself. Tim had wanted me to suffer. Instead, he had to watch me look him in the eyes and grin, despite the blood pouring out of my arm.
He was pissed. “You said he was special,” he hissed at the big man, as if I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“It should have worked by now.” The big man shrugged. “I don’t know, Tim. Maybe he’s like the others.”
“Bullshit! You know that’s not true. He’s a descendant, for Christ’s sake! How could he-“
They were both silenced by the portal. I thought I was really losing it at that point. After all, I had just lost a liter of blood, if what Tim had said was correct. It probably was, since his fucked-up ritual worked.
Whatever picture popped into your head when I mentioned the portal, it’s wrong. You might be thinking of the big one that Thanos came through in the movies, or the ones from the actual game Portal. It was nothing like either of those. I’d say its closest parallel was the wormhole in Interstellar. This thing was a blob, black as night, so dark that it seemed to cast shadows on itself, and it was no bigger than a Kleenex box
Keep that in mind. It makes what happened next seem more impossible than the portal existing at all.
A creature stepped through. As in, it was small enough to get through the portal, then it suddenly wasn’t. The thing was a behemoth. It had to have been ten feet tall, yet it was not lanky. It had enough muscle to offset its height. I had thought the big man was strong. He looked like a toddler next to the creature.
I don’t know what it was. I don’t want to know. I can only describe it. There were red, pulsing veins all along its chest, like it was a fucking heart or something. Its head was large, even for its oversized body, and it had horns. Not horns like a minotaur or a devil; I mean something closer to antlers, though not quite as large and spindly.
The eyes were the worst part. They were black like the portal, and when I looked into them I felt a sense of clarity that shouldn’t have been possible in my bloodied state. I saw unspeakable things. Lakes of fire and blood and shadows, the stuff that you’d imagine belonged in Hell. I’m not sure how much of it was real. I only know what I remember.
Did I mention the fangs? The fucker had fangs like a tiger’s. Now, you might think that mental image is funny: a buff dude with pulsing veins, antlers, and fangs. Let me tell you, it was the farthest thing from funny you can imagine. It was fucking terrifying. I think I actually pissed myself when it looked my way.
Tim didn’t seem bothered by the intrusion. “It worked!” he cried. “We’ve finally done it. We managed to communicate with the dark realm.”
I think he was going to say more. He did not get to finish. The creature grabbed him with a meaty hand half the size of my own body and swallowed him whole. Just like that. It sucked Tim down like I would a noodle. Its mouth expanded, seemed to vacuum him inside, and then there was silence.
I’m pretty sure the big man wanted to run then. He was in the process of turning around when the creature grabbed him, too. I guess the big man was, well, too big, because this time the creature had to eat him in two bites. The sound of teeth crunching through flesh and bone is not one I want to hear again. I’ll spare you the description.
There was so much blood. It made my wound look like a papercut. I don’t think people understand how much a person can bleed until they see it. That was certainly the case for me, because the big man spouted it like a fucking geyser. A geyser that the creature did not seem to mind, if it noticed at all. The blood that splashed against its chest evaporated on contact.
Two, maybe three seconds had passed, and it had eaten both of the other men. At that point I’d given up. I was surprised I was still conscious at all. I was still bleeding heavily, and, while the creature had sharpened my senses, the room was still swaying. Or maybe I was.
Its eyes bored into my own. I was sure I was about to die, until it did something that to this day I cannot fully understand. It freed me. Not hard, when you’re as big as it was. It pulled on my chains and snapped them like they were pieces of string.
I pitched forward into the basin. I thought I was going to vomit until I noticed that there was no blood. What the fuck? Had I not just been bleeding like a goddamn bomb had been dropped nearby?
It was the creature, I realized. Its veins, the ones pulsing in its chest- that was my blood inside. I don’t know how I came to that conclusion. I think it was an afterthought, when the creature went back through its portal and disappeared. I could think of no other reason why the blood would have vanished.
It jived with the ritual, too. Tim had claimed he needed my blood. Had it been to satiate the creature?
I can’t tell you how long I spent in that basin. When I came to the conclusion that I was not dead, I tried to get up. I ended up tipping the basin over and falling on the floor. I scraped my hands, cursed, then realized as I looked at the ripped skin that I was no longer bleeding. Not from Tim’s cuts, at least.
The small ones had healed completely. The gash through my vein had already scarred over. How the fuck? I wasn’t about to question it, because whatever had caused it to heal had saved my life. I would have bled to death in that room, had the wounds not regenerated like they did.
I was still dizzy- I had, after all, lost a liter of blood- but I was conscious, for whatever that was worth. There were stairs at the other end of the room. From my chained position I hadn’t been able to see them. Now I could. They were wooden, and I found after a long two minutes of climbing that they led to Tim’s house. There was a hidden door that opened into his basement.
By then I was pouring sweat. I had lost a lot of blood. I was stressed, tired, and ready to collapse on the floor right there. I knew I couldn’t, though. I would die if that happened. I needed a hospital if I wanted to live.
Part of me wasn’t sure I did want to survive. After what I’d seen, I figured I had some long nights ahead of me. And I didn’t know what else lurked in what Tim had called the “dark realm.” Were there more creatures that would not be so kind? Different ones that would come to finish what Tim had started?
Different ones that were even worse?
I knew they existed, just as I had known the creature had been pumping my own blood. What I didn’t know was if I would see them. I figured it was worth giving myself a chance to live if I wasn’t sure.
The phone in Tim’s house was at the top of the stairs, right next to the kitchen. I somehow made my way up, trembling legs and all, and dialed 911. When they asked what my emergency was, I almost laughed. I could imagine myself saying something like, Yeah, my drug dealer just summoned a demon. It almost killed me. Please send help!
I stuck with the more realistic version of the story.
*
It took two transfusions to get me out of my hospital bed. I also had to stay a couple nights, because apparently there are other side effects of losing blood. Low blood pressure, for one thing. Mine had been dangerously low, so much so that the doctor couldn’t believe I was still conscious when I made it to the hospital. He also didn’t understand how my one cut had scarred over. That remained a mystery to both of us.
I was interviewed by a detective after I had regained my strength. She asked how I escaped. It didn’t take long for the police to find the secret door and the chains with my blood on them. Tim and the big man were nowhere to be found (at least for the police; I knew what had happened to them). Their prints, however, were all over the room. The general consensus was that I had escaped when they had left, to go… wherever they had gone.
That was what the detective really wanted to know. She understood, however, that I was not a fucking GPS. I could not tell her where they had actually gone, because I would have sounded fucking insane. Instead I told her that I had blacked out, and when I woke up the chains had been broken.
She didn’t question my story, mostly because I retold it two or three times, the last time to a different detective. The police were not satisfied, but they couldn’t argue with the facts. It was obvious that I had been kidnapped and tortured, bled almost to death, and that Tim had vanished. I never did tell them about the big man, and they never asked me about the set of prints that I knew must have been at the scene.
There were a couple follow-ups and more questions, but I was essentially done once I got released from the hospital. I was the victim, after all. The only thing I could give them was my statement. A man that almost bleeds to death in another man’s basement is hardly a suspect, nor is he suspected to know much about his captors.
They did share Tim’s record with me. It was why they could identify his prints in the first place. Turns out he was older than I thought. He’d already served five years for dealing and had been on patrol for the past couple years. It seemed I had first met him right when he’d gotten out of prison.
I wish I could tell you more. That dark realm has never left my mind. I can’t forget the visions I saw through the creature’s eyes. The creature, too, I remember clearly, down to the number of veins on its chest and the infinite blackness of its eyes.
Truthfully, I don’t want to know more. Whatever places I saw can stay the fuck away from this planet. Yet I remain curious, if only because I have seen them so many times in my dreams. The entire scene plays itself out at least once a month. An abbreviated version, but still.
Now you understand why I have told no one about this story before.
Have you paid attention, reader? Have you thought back to the very question that started all of this?
That’s right. I asked why. Why what? Well, for the past couple months the dreams have stopped. Understand that this has never happened. The weeks after the incident I dreamt about it once. After that, I had at least three recurrences of the creature every goddamn month.
I ask why not because I want to know, but because I am scared. I worry that the creature will return, or that one of its buddies will come through a portal in my house and eat me, too. Then I’ll be one of those missing persons you see on the news that never shows up again and that no one, save for my brother and maybe my mom, will mourn.
Fuck Tim, and fuck whatever cult he joined. I never wanted to be involved in this. Now, as I sit here typing, I wonder what comes next. It’s possible that the dreams have stopped because of time. Two years, after all, is not insignificant.
Or they could return. By they, I mean whatever species the creature belonged to. They could pay me a visit and swallow me whole, or transport me to that hellscape that I so often dreamt about.
If I think for a second that might happen, I’m going to fucking kill myself. Because if there is a real Hell, it has to be better than the places I have seen.

Dealer called a string raise on my opponent

Carlos Alexander, Billionaire, Evil Villain, and Antagonist Extraordinaire

I guess it is time to speak briefly on Carlos Alexander. His rise to fame, and subsequent infamy is due to his unique gift. He did not always have this gift though. Carolus Alexius was born in what is now Cordoba, Spain, to Roman parents living under Moorish rule. The year was 777. His parents being aristocrats, in the basest sense, he had access to the vast library there at Cordoba, and all the secrets it harbored. You see like us, the Unseen, Carlos Alexander is drawn to magical places, special people, powerful charms, purpose-made trinkets, and the like. It is in this way that people find the chests, and other cursed items. It is in this same way that we of the Orders find each other, and draw close, so they we can stand together against the dark forces that gather to do the same.
There, from some ancient and dusty tome, he read aloud some perverse words, and pantomimed some obscure ritual, imbuing himself with an unnaturally extended lifespan. The means by which he achieved this is lost to us, likely he burned the instructions as soon as his ritual was compete. His terrible gift, along with his extended life, has allowed him to amass some of the most dangerous talismans we have ever seen. Through these talismans, he has gained power and dark influence all over the globe and beyond, and he holds sway over many. This influence also allowed him to gain enormous wealth. The companies which he has founded, and leads from the shadows, are industry leaders, and financial juggernauts. Through this interconnected network of companies, he is able to further his agenda, and spend his time concentrating his efforts where he is best served.
Due to his high stature, Carlos Alexander must be careful not to let his secret be learned by any Profane. Even many of our Orders are not sure he exists; a powerful and ancient enigma, he had evaded every attempt at defeat or capture. He has moved many times throughout the years, and lived under a hundred different names, accordingly. Eventually he settled on a forever home, where he felt he could be intermittently safe. Located in Chile, in the coastal range foothills, near the Atacama Desert, his palatial estate is impossible to miss. A monolith of stark beauty amidst the desolate landscape.
It was called Casa Culpeo, so named for a species of fox native to the area. Its construction started in the late 1780’s and employed the skill of so many skilled tradesmen; masters in stonework, carpentry, botany, fresco and mosaic, and painters. Once they all had completed their great work, Carlos Alexander slaughtered each one personally, and buried them in the remote desert. None would remain alive to tell about it, so that the sands could hold his secrets for all time. Only a few and select would be lucky enough to ever see it and to experience its wonders, and live to tell about it.
The property itself was a veritable Babylon. Lush greenery, colorful fragrant blooms, tall stately trees, and robust hedges abounded. Sculptures of the finest quality stared out over flora of the rarest and most expensive varieties. Fountains, ponds, and streams accented and divided the gardens, evoking the feelings of a European estate. The main building itself, was hewn from megalithic stone, arranged in the manner of cyclopean architecture. Inside, the halls themselves were adorned with prodigious amounts of art. Alcoves housed dignified marble busts of men and women of renown, and infamy.
Even a more-than-casual visitor to the property, might not guess at the secrets it hid. Palatial, and expansive in its layout, every room held a plethora of rich decoration, and ornate adornment. One particular room, the study, held more than just mundane books though. The third shelf on the west facing wall had a small brass handle near the back of the lowest shelf. Pulling down would cause the shelf to swing open, revealing a locked door. Through the doorway was a descending staircase, that stretched down into the very bedrock upon which the estate was built. At the bottom, another door, also locked. That door opened into a long hallway, stretching nearly a quarter mile. The whole length was hexed with dozens of special charms developed by Mr. Alexander for just this purpose. In the centuries since their employment, they had never failed. At the end of the hallway was a final door; unlocked. None but him had ever gotten as far, so there was no need for chains or locks. Behind that door lay Carlos’s own veritable cabinet of curiosities.
In his extensive collections of dark and nefarious and items, Mr. Alexander kept many artifacts of unsavory renown. His collections, which sat undisturbed in the vault below his study, might seem entirely benign, if not a touch macabre, to the average person. Rows of rich wooden shelves lined the room, and a grand wooden table was at its center. All lined with specimen jars, archeological looking objects, resplendent trinkets, human bones, and other seemingly valuable talismans and tokens.
On the shelf against the northern wall was one of Mr. Alexander’s favorite pieces. Nestled between a jar containing a preserved parasitic shrimp from another world, and a Human skull with a huge ragged hole in it, sat a single American Dollar Bill, 2000 Series minted in Philadephia. It was unremarkable save the blue smiley face stamped on it. Aside from this, it generally looked like any other gently used dollar bill in every other way.
A little girl named Dolores stamped that smiley face on it when her mother wasn’t looking, sometime in 2001. Dolores was regrettably killed in a bus accident while carrying that dollar to school for lunch the very next day. It was found in her wallet and returned to the family by the coroner with her blood-stained clothes. Her mom kept it for a month or two, but it pained her too much to keep it. So one day she burned the clothes in the fireplace. She took the dollar and stuffed it in a charity box for sick children, on the counter at the liquor store she had become such a frequent customer of.
That tin charity box, with pictures of sick kids pasted around it, was never meant for charity, however. The owner of that particular convenience store was as unscrupulous as he was greedy, and he emptied that money right into his safe every month. He didn’t care about those sick kids, not one lick. He didn’t care much about anybody. Like his employees either. So one night, John and Alex, the owner’s two longest serving minimum wage employees, hit their boss over the head with a bottle of cheap wine while he counted his money. They made away with about fifteen grand. Good haul for them. Though their freedom was short lived, they made sure to spend every penny of that money. They were in jail within forty-eight hours, having been the prime suspects from the moment someone found the old, miserly store owner dead in his office the next morning. A good portion of that money was spent at a little gem of a strip club, over on the local highway, less than twenty minutes away. Our dollar found its way into the G-string of a tall leggy blond, stage name Charlize. She had a reputation as an easy lay. She used the money the two robbers gave her to buy a nice bag of heroin from her pimp, I mean, boyfriend. He liked it when his girls were drugged out and complacent.
What none of them knew was that it unfortunately was not even heroin. It was Fentanyl; and these amateur street cooks out there couldn’t guarantee strength or purity. Dirty street shit like that is guaranteed to have a 10% overdose ratio. Charlize’s boyfriend, Danny, rolled the dollar with the smiley face up and handed it to her with a fresh line of that smack. He left her to die in that room, dollar still in her hand, alone to suffocate in her own vomit. The police were alerted to her after the hotel manager went to collect his money for the “short stay” and found a dead stripper with a face full of drugs. And our dollar went into an evidence bag. It sat on a shelf in Warwick Police Department for ten years until a bad cop, down on his luck, rummaged through old confiscated items for anything of value he could pawn. He wiped off the dollar and stuffed it directly in his wallet, among the myriad other things he had swiped.
He needed the money to pay back a big gambling debt to some shady mobsters from an illegal casino down in Atlantic City. He went to them nearly empty-handed, and they did not appreciate his offer of a payment plan. They killed him, of course. And when they were stripping his body of clothes, they found his wallet. One expired credit card, and $16 dollars in cash; a ten, a five and our one dollar bill.
These made-men returned to their high stake poker tables after the hit, and happened to sit across from Carlos Alexander, and some of his more dangerous associates, at a poker match. The made-men had no idea what that dollar was. Carlos knew though. He wagered a great deal of money that night to win that dollar from them, goading them into larger and larger bets. These mobsters pulled every denomination of bill from every pocket they had, but they wouldn’t budge; all he wanted was that dollar. The dark power of it was calling to the mobster who had taken it off of the dead man, bidding him to keep it for himself. Like all the dollar’s previous owners however, he was destined to die.
Carlos Alexander did get that dollar, even though he had to slaughter every mobster in the room, with some help from some of his baser acquaintances. Once it started, it didn’t take long to finish. Three minutes of pure carnage, and he had it. As his companions feasted on the flesh of the dead, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the blood from his eyes, making sure not to dirty the dollar. He stared at it, the dark emanations of its power pulsing in his hand. Carlos Alexander smiled. He already had a place picked out for it, in his collection.

More poker analysis: Tom Paris, Harry Kim, Neelix, and Chakotay play an intriguing and unusual hand of poker.

They're playing 5 card draw, nothing appears to be wild, and I'm just going to walk through the hand and all of the dialogue, because this hand is almost entirely about the dialogue. I'll insert notes along the way.
Paris is dealing this hand, and to his left is Kim, then Chakotay, then Neelix. Here's a handy illustration. Regardless of who goes first, the action always moves clockwise.
We enter the hand as the first round of betting has finished, and players are now drawing cards. The pot is already quite large at this point. As usual there are two types of chips: gold colored and silver colored, but we don't know the value of either one, and we never actually see anybody toss chips into the pot while making a specific bet here so we can't figure it out. But it's a big pot regardless, because there are a good number of both colors of chips in the pot. Before this second (and final) round of betting, there are 7 silver chips and 5 gold chips in the pot. In the brief glimpse we get of the table, everybody seems to have somewhere around 10-15 of each colored chip in their stacks. So the pot is already worth maybe about 1/3 as much as each player has in their stack, perhaps more than 1/3. That's a very nice sized pot, with 1 round of betting still to come.
Here is the entire scene, only about a minute-and-a-half long. Like I said I've written out all of the dialogue so you're not missing anything if you don't feel like watching it.
...
Neelix: [looking at his hand] Heart...heart...heart...just ONE more heart...
[Neelix draws 1 card]
Paris: You might as well be showing us your hand, Neelix. This is a game of strategy, deception.
Kim: Never let the opponents know your hand.
Neelix: Right...
[Neelix finally picks up the card he traded in.]
Neelix: Uuuuhhhhhggggwwww. [makes a disgusted face]
[It's pretty obvious that Neelix is reverse-bluffing here, and he might be overdoing it. Since he obviously does know the rules and strategy my guess is that he really was unfamiliar with the game but they've been playing for a little while now, and he read the rules. Neelix knew some pretty tough weirdos and probably got into a few scrapes. Even if he's not a gambler, it's reasonable that he's been around gambling and can pick up on strategy quickly, especially since so much of it is seemingly a "mind game."]
Chakotay: Ten.
[Bets 10 chips.]
Kim: I see your ten, and raise you...twenty.
[No you don't Harry. It's not your turn. It's never your turn here. Chakotay presumably bet first on the opening round of betting so he has the first option here. Either way, after Chakotay acts it's always Neelix's turn. Also that was a string bet...but I'm not even gonna get into that. In a home game that's fine. (possible answer to why they're playing out of order below)]
Paris: Neelix?
Neelix: I'm thinking.....twenty [throws in some chips] ...and another twenty!
[The bet should be 30 to Neelix not 20. Chakotay bet 10 and Harry raised him 20 more. Let's give them all the benefit of the doubt and say that they all saw Neelix toss in 30 when he said "twenty" so they didn't correct him, since the bet was correct, he just accidentally said the wrong thing. He then raises 20 more in a SEVERE string bet, but everybody is string betting (explained below) and it's usually considered a very minor violation in a home game and is allowable.]
Kim: If I didn't know any better, I'd say we're being hustled.
[I mean it's pretty obvious. Why do you think you "know better?" Why are you discounting the fact that Neelix probably has a flush??]
Neelix: Ensign?
Kim: Oh, I'm not buying the innocent Talaxian routine.
Neelix: I don't know what you're talking about. I've...This is the first time I've played...what is it called?
Paris and Kim: Poker.
Paris: Look, why don't we make things a little more interesting? Forget the chips, let's bet on tomorrow's work detail, all right? Whoever wins this hand gets the morning off.
["Nope." "No thanks." "I wasn't born yesterday Tom." That's an example of what they should have said. Tom is not bluffing here. The chips are like Monopoly money, they don't represent anything tangible. They're not playing for money, just for fun. So the bet comes to Tom and is essentially 50 "points" to him. "I see your 50 and I raise you tomorrow's work detail!" That's...not a thing he should be allowed to do. Of course it's just a game, you can change the rules anytime if everybody agrees, but nobody should allow this, like, ever. With no more cards to come, Tom suggests they play just this one hand for real stakes...and this doesn't seem fishy to anybody. What the hell! Not only does that mean Tom has a very good hand approximately 100% of the time, we can even determine what he probably has!! Since everybody is suspicious that Neelix has a flush, Tom can probably beat a flush.]
Chakotay: I'm in.
Kim: I'm in.
Neelix: Sounds good to me.
Chakotay: [to nobody in particular] What have you got?
Kim: Two pair!
[Kim says this sort proudly and smugly, like he thinks it's a huge hand. We're watching the whole hand from over his shoulder and can see he has AA99Q (tough to see precisely in the youtube clip, but clear in the episode), so yes it's a very strong two pair, it's very likely going to win over anybody else's two pair...but how do you think two pair is winning this hand here?]
Neelix: [showing his hand] Does...does that beat a flush?
Kim: I knew you were bluffing!
[We don't see Neelix's hand but safe to say he has a heart flush. Now that Harry has seen the results he proclaims that he knew all along...and yet he played the hand like Neelix didn't have a flush.]
Chakotay: That beats me. Tom?
[Because Chakotay kept his cards after Harry showed his two pair, and only said he was beat after Neelix showed his flush, we can surmise that Chakotay could beat Harry's 2 pair.]
At this point Tom sees a freaking Borg cube out the window. He stares at it in horror for a second, and everybody turns to see it and Chakotay yells "Battle stations!" and the card game is tossed onto the floor.
Paris: [taking his station] And I had a full house...
...
Analysis:
Harry Kim is just bad. He got it all-in here against 3 opponents, not just for meaningless chips but for something actually tangible, and he had the fourth-best hand at the table. Not only that, but he tabled his two pair like it was the nuts. And then when Neelix showed his flush, Harry said he knew it...but before Neelix showed it Harry also said that he "knew better" than to think Neelix was hustling them! I mean, even a beginner like Neelix will very quickly understand that the game involves strategic deception. Even more so in a game like 5 card draw where your opponents can't see ANY of your cards, and the only direct info they have about your hand is how many cards you traded in (which, again, can be totally deceptive).
And does it even count as "hustling" if it's for play-money? Either way Neelix wasn't hustling you Harry, he was just outplaying you. Tom Paris was hustling you.
Chakotay is the commanding officer obviously, so maybe he agrees to Tom's proposal because he knows at that point that he himself doesn't have the winning hand (Neelix probably has a flush and Tom can almost certainly beat Neelix also). Chakotay wouldn't want to gamble against his subordinates for real stakes because it's not great as a Commander to win money from your subordinates...but he agrees at the end of this hand because he knows he's losing, and because everybody has to agree for it to happen, and he wants to see how things play out between Neelix and Tom -- see who hustles who.
Chakotay might have agreed to the "tomorrow's work detail" bet even though (or rather, because) he knew he was losing...but he still led out for a bet of 10 chips here. He didn't know Tom was going to "make it interesting" but he knew Neelix maybe/probably had a flush!
If we want to give Chakotay the benefit of the doubt strategically, we could say his 10 chip bet is a sort of "blocker bet" aimed at Neelix. This should really only work against a newcomer, but I also think it has a strong chance against a newcomer. I don't mean that only newcomers are "fooled" by blocker bets (this also isn't exactly a blocker bet but the idea is similar). I just mean that in this specific spot it will probably only achieve its intended effect against a newcomer. As a new player Neelix will be unpredictable in his bet sizes and in his understanding of basic things like pot odds (how much the current bet is compared to how much is already in the pot). So Chakotay's weird little 10 chip bet into an already large pot is him attempting to deceive Neelix into believing that 10 is a reasonable bet size here. It's not, it's a tiny bet, but we could surmise that he's trying to manipulate Neelix's bet size. Even if Neelix raises him, Chakotay's hoping it'll only be a raise of maybe 10 or 20 more chips and he can see a cheap showdown. However if it goes check-check to Neelix, he might open the betting for way more than 20 or 30, so Chakotay is (falsely) trying to show Neelix that 10 chips is a decent sized bet here.
This seems contrary to Chakotay being wiling to call when he knows he's losing though, AND seems contrary to Chakotay's character in my opinion, so I think it's unlikely he was trying to manipulate Neelix. Even if Neelix never realized it, it wouldn't be a very "friendly" strategy for Chakotay to be trying to manipulate a new player, and seems out of character. Probably he just bet 10 chips cuz he isn't very good, and figured "Ok it's my turn and I have a pretty good hand, I guess I should bet, but only a little cuz Neelix might have me beat." This a terrible play -- every action needs a purpose. Is he *bluffing with a bet of 10 chips? Of course not, he knows he's getting called by somebody. So then is it a value bet because he thinks he has the best hand? If it is it's a weird one. if he's betting for value he should bet more than 10, plus why would he bet for value when he knows Neelix may have a flush which would beat him??
I think it's more likely that Chakotay's bet of 10 chips falls into the category of thoughtless and purposeless, not sneaky and manipulative. He should just check.
Neelix is new to the game but clearly outplays Harry Kim and probably Chakotay. Like I said Chakotay may just be playing it out for fun, but he didn't play it like he was trying to fold either.
Neelix is obviously overdoing it in pretending to hate his final card AND by saying out loud which card he was looking for. Maybe that's just him being new and accidentally over-acting his reverse-bluff, but even if people fold and he doesn't get maximum value from his flush this hand, it's great for his long-term image. Now they'll think his bluffs (and reverse-bluffs) are obvious. He could even use this specific image-building hand to try a double reverse-bluff on a later hand -- do basically the exact thing he did here, make a big bet at the end, but do it when he misses his flush, and get everybody to fold because they think he has it again. It definitely gives him a leg up because now everybody may be second-guessing everything he does...and even if that means they're scrutinizing him it's still a good thing because it also means he's the one making them second-guess themselves, and they're likely to over think what he's doing and make some mistakes.
LATE EDIT: I just re-watched it to see if I missed anything, and I realized that Neelix probably/maybe slowrolled Harry! Neelix knows that a flush beats two pair, right? It's possible he really didn't know -- he did know enough that he should try to be deceptive but hadn't memorized the hand rankings yet. A flush is way better than two pair though, so if Neelix did know it was better then he sort of slowrolled Harry by pretending he didn't know. Basically he rubbed it in his face. (A true "slowroll" is kind of cruel if you're playing for more than a few bucks -- it's when your opponent goes all-in and you're last to act and you have the absolute nuts, the best hand possible on this board, and instead of insta-calling you pretend to think for awhile, then you call with the best possible hand and it's just mean, although in the right spot with friends for very small stakes it can also be hilarious. Neelix pretending not to know whether his flush beats two pair isn't exactly a slowroll but it's sort of the same idea -- showing your opponent a hand that crushes them and adding insult to injury, in this case by playing dumb.)
Tom Paris very obviously outplayed everybody. Even Neelix with his flush should say no to "making it interesting", but it's not so bad from him cuz he's new and he may think his reverse-bluff worked on the whole table.
But it's literally impossible for Tom to be bluffing, because if everybody/anybody just said "No" then his bet would not stand. He can't win the pot by bluff-raising tomorrow's work detail. The chips have no value so you can't even attempt to assign a chip value to tomorrow's work detail. It's worth infinite chips. Everybody would/should just be like, "Nope, the bet is 50 to you" and he'd have to play his hand for chips, not for work detail.
On top of that, because Neelix made everybody very suspicious that he has a flush, we can severely narrow Tom's range of hands. Basically, he can almost certainly beat a flush. He'd look like an idiot if he did this with a straight and then Neelix -- the newcomer who just did some serious over-acting while attempting a reverse bluff -- had the flush.
I would estimate that Tom has a full house here at least 90% of the time. The other 10% of the time he has four of a kind, a straight flush, or a very strong Ace-high flush. He would of course make this exact same play with four of a kind or a straight flush, but those are very unlikely simply because they're very rare.
He might also do this with a very strong flush, for example A-K-7-4-2 of spades. Even if he knew that Neelix had a flush, Tom's would almost always be better. Neelix would need to have A-K-8-X-X of hearts to have a better flush, which is very unlikely. Any Ace-high flush is a favorite against a random flush -- there are 13 cards of each suit in the deck and a flush uses 5 of them, leaving 8 others in the deck, so it's more likely that the Ace happens to be among those 8 than among your 5.
But Tom clearly isn't at all worried about Neelix, so it's unlikely that he has less than a full house. A very strong flush is in his range, but barely, because Tom might be worried about Chakotay. Neelix telegraphed his flush and Chakotay still bet out, so Chakotay could also have an extremely strong hand.
Harry also raised Chakotay's bet with Neelix behind him, but Tom obviously does not need to worry about Harry having a huge hand because Harry is clearly a very bad player, and seemed to think his two pair was a strong hand here. Even though he said that he wasn't buying the innocent Talaxian routine, he still went all-in for tomorrow's work detail and showed his two pair like he forgot that Neelix was obviously reverse-bluffing.
In other words I'd say that about 100% of the time Tom has at least an extremely strong flush, and almost always has a full house or better.
...
Possible reason they're playing out of order:
Harry and Chakotay are playing totally out of order, it doesn't seem to make sense. They're playing as though they were in opposite seats -- Harry was in Chakotay's seat and Chakotay was in Harry's. In that case the action would make sense, and would be continuously moving clockwise around the table like it is supposed to.
But they do it so purposefully, like it's clearly Harry's turn after Chakotay, it doesn't seem like Harry jumps the gun and accidentally acts out of turn.
So I would surmise that they've been playing for maybe a few hours, maybe with a break to eat, and Chakotay and Harry had been playing the whole time sitting in opposite seats from where we see them. For whatever reason, after taking a bathroom or lunch break they re-join the game and Harry and Chakotay end up in the wrong seats. Maybe one of them wants to be near a certain station, to keep half an eye on whatever monitor. Maybe Harry hurt his back a day or two ago, and the chair he was in was too stiff so he asked Chakotay to swap. They did, and also made sure to swap chip stacks obviously. This is unusual but fine, and wouldn't confuse anybody really, with just 4 players in the game.
Maybe Neelix's brain was really just used to them sitting where they had been and it confused him when they swapped seats, or maybe he was further pretending to be confused like with his reverse-bluff when he hit his flush. If your opponents think you're confused and bad at the game just from the way you're acting -- and you're NOT actually confused or bad at the game -- you've created a big advantage for yourself obviously.
Whatever his motives, I'd suggest that at this point Neelix, who was starting to really catch on, then exclaimed that this was going to confuse him. He was used to the order being Tom-Chakotay-Harry-Neelix and asked if they could keep the same order -- as if they were still sitting in the same seats -- and everybody agreed.
...
Explanation of string betting: Let's say there's 2 players left in a hand, you and Riker. You act first and let's say you bet 20. Riker can fold, call, or raise. He can do any of those things either verbally OR physically. If he says any of those three things ("fold," "call," or "raise") he's bound to do that, and physically if he tosses his cards into the muck that's a fold, if he pushes 20 chips forward that's a call, and if he pushes more than 20 chips forward that's a raise.
What you can't do, even though it's like the most commonly said thing in tv or movie poker scenes, is something like "I call your bet...and raise you 50!" Totally not allowed -- you have to make your decision and then carry it out. This is because if you declare a call...and a raise, you can size up your opponent before making your raise. "I call your 20 and...[looks for a reaction] that's all, I call your 20." Or "I call your 20 and...[gets a different reaction] raise you 100."
If you say, "I call and raise you whatever whatever," your raise doesn't count -- you already said "I call" and that's your action. It's not like you can say "I call and...change my mind and fold actually!" Same principle, basically.
You also can't do a physical string bet -- if you want to bet or raise but don't want to say it out loud that's fine -- you have to count it out in front of you and then push it forward. But you can't grab some chips, push them forward, scrutinize your opponent, and then grab more chips and push them forward. Your turn ended when you initially pushed some chips forward.
In a friendly home game this wouldn't get called out except as a joke...although if you intentionally do it really hard, like you're obviously trying to read your opponent, then people would probably enforce the rule and not let your string bet cuz you're the one being a dick and trying to take advantage of a friendly, lighthearted atmosphere in that scenario.

[JVerse] Haven - 05

Author’s Note: Sorry for the long wait. I got stuck, and have probably rewritten this four times now. This is mostly due to some family stuff going on, which is (thankfully) looking like there’s some sunlight visible at last on that front. I’ll try to keep to some sort of semblance of a schedule and keep installments coming, although Real Life is being quite obstinate about how much available time I have.
This chapter features the first obvious crossover scene with my story (also set during the Gaoian Crisis Waters of Babylon. I don’t think you’ll need to have read that to get a sense of all the things that are going on, but it’ll undoubtedly clear up confusion if you’ve read both, and you may see some familiar faces if you’re paying moderate attention.
Thanks, as usual, to hambone3110 for letting me play in the sandbox, and his Deathworlders universe. Here’s hoping I’m doing it justice. :)
Wiki entry - Haven
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Date Point: 14Y 1W AV, late morning
Peterson Residence, Folctha, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
As though in answer to the prayers and desperate pleas of children, it seemed Santa had actually come through in a way this year that didn’t involve socks. There were, it seemed, no words in any language quite as cherished as ”School restarting after winter break will be delayed two weeks due to the ongoing refugee crisis.”
Or, at least, that’s the way it seemed to Gillian this morning, having had sufficient time to absorb the news delivered by her long-suffering father and express herself by zooming excitedly in several directions at once. Only minor breakage of household items had resulted, in the form of a lamp and a lone picture frame holding a photo of Gillian herself in first grade which she’d always hated anyway.
“Hey!!! HEY!” Samuel said finally, raising his voice and trying to forestall the amok-running that had ensued on delivery of the news.
“NOSCHOOLNOSCHOOLNOSCHOOLNOSCHOOL…”
“Hey! Quit with the bouncing on the sofa!”
At that, the pandemonium died down a little. Liina, for her part, sat and watched with a mixture of appalled amusement and disbelieving agreement evident in her ears.
“So, no school at all? For another two weeks???” Gillian asked.
“Yes. So, enough with the bouncing on the furniture. You break anything else, and I’m not gonna cover for you with your mother, young lady,” Samuel said in mock-severity. “One lamp and a picture frame, I can work with.”
Gillian looked abashed. “...Sorry, Papa. I’m just excited ‘cause NO SCHOOL!!!!”
“I know you are, Peanut. What we’re going to have to do is figure out something to keep you two...and your friends...busy for those two weeks. I’m not sure how we’re going to work that.”
“Oh. That’s right. You were on vacation, weren’t you?” Gillian asked, a little crestfallen.
“Yep. And Lord knows, your mother certainly can’t take any time off right now. I don’t even know when the next time she’ll get a day off is going to be.”
Outside Folctha, fields and woods were being cleared with little or no thought to longer-term planning, which was about as much of a departure from the norm for Folctha as could be imagined. Already-cleared land had been repurposed under a hasty eminent domain declaration of temporary but long-term use, going from farmland to hastily-laid-out refugee camp tent rows in grim line after line of shell-shocked Females and cubs. Gillian and Liina hadn’t been allowed to go out to the camp, of course, but both had spent the last several days being shooed outside to play while there was still good weather, and so had inevitably made some other friends who had either been there or had met someone who had.
No space in Folctha was spared the sudden influx of refugees. The Interfaith Center had actually been cleared out, once there had been room for the cubs there to go somewhere else. Perhaps not too unexpectedly, it had also become during the daytime a gathering place for the cubs that were still quartered at the Thing further up the main hill in Folctha as well as some of the cubs that lived in town with human families.
Samuel sighed. Hopefully, these two will be spared most of what’s going on. “Okay. So, Peanut...here’s the deal. I absolutely have to get out to the camp to finish up the first surveying I did a few days ago remotely. Your mother is going to be working until after dark today. You two are going to have to be pretty much on your own…” he trailed off, and held up a hand. “Hey. Stop bouncing a minute and listen.”
Gillian stopped, sitting on the couch where she’d been bouncing. “Sorry Papa.”
“As I was saying. You two are going to have to fend for yourselves for most of the day, so here’s the deal. I’m going to give you some money, and I want you both to check in with me every couple of hours, let me know what you’re doing, and where you’re going to be. I’m not going to pretend I can keep you two inside, and I’m not going to even ask that. Just be safe. Lots going on, okay?”
“Okay, Papa!” Gillian replied excitedly.
“Yes, Father,” Liina answered at the same time.
“Okay.” He gave them a stern look. “I’m trusting you, Peanut.”
“Yes, Papa!”
“Your phone is in my office. I put it on the charger last night, so it should be all charged up today. If the battery dies, you come home and plug it in, okay?” There were nods. “All right. Get something to eat, and then off you two go.”
The two girls rushed through gobbling down something out of the stasis fridge that was alternating bites of hot/cold and meat/not meat, washed it down with something to drink that neither paused long enough to taste. Grabbing Gillian’s phone, backpack with a few essentials, and the money from Samuel, they rushed out into the freedom of an unsupervised morning.
Gillian leading the way, they got as far as the first intersection with a cross street, then paused to take stock of what and where they were doing and going.
“What’s wrong?” Liina asked.
“Just trying to think of what to do ‘n where to go,” Gillian replied thoughtfully. “Cause I was thinking at first we could go down to the river front park, and then I thought no, because there’s no play structures down there, just lots of room to run around and stuff. And the Alien Quarter won’t really work, prob’ly, ‘cause, you know, there are so many refugees and we don’t wanna get in the way, and we should prob’ly stay away from the main portal, an’... Hey! I know! Let’s go down to downtown and walk ‘round! There’s always stuff to look at there, and everybody’s really nice and stuff. C’mon! This way!”
She set off at a trot, and then realized she was probably leaving Liina in the dust. She slowed to a walk, bouncing a little with each step. Liina trotted along next to her, her much shorter legs pumping furiously to keep up with the gangly human. They made their way out of the more residential area where Gillian’s family lived, down the hill towards the river, and into the bustling downtown district in short order.
Liina found herself looking at the sights overhead and around her. The sky glinted hazily far above, Folctha’s municipal shielding providing power and a measure of environmental protection at the same time. Along the street, brightly colored banners in yellows and blues waved gaily overhead in the soft breeze. Her nose twitched at the myriad unfamiliar smells of a human city as they walked, sorting scents one from another.
Gillian led the way, obviously familiar with where they were going. A quick cut through an alleyway led them out to a main thoroughfare obviously meant for foot traffic only. Fewer adults than she was used to seeing were evident, which was kind of what she had been expecting anyway. There were the people working here...and lots of kids… but the adults of Folctha were nearly one and all engaged with the refugees streaming in from Gao.
At the end of the street they were on, the Interfaith Center rose on a plot all its own. A low pale waist-high cream colored wall topped with a decorative wrought-iron railing surrounded it at the street, less as a barrier and more as a delineating this is where this place starts marker. The gate at the front was wide and inviting, twined with a native Cimbrean equivalent to ivy covered in teal-colored leaves. Between the fence and the building itself, odd-shaped paver stones led this way and that in a pathway between decorative rock, sand, and gravel gardens tended to daily by diligent orange-clad Starmind monks. To one side of the building, which Gillian knew from many visits, the bubbling of a water fountain came from a courtyard that led inside.
The main doors, made of wrought-iron bound English oak, stood open. At the center of the doors, a pattern common to both humans and Gaoians indicating “infinity”, formed a sideways double loop of polished copper, with fine cutouts of various religious symbols and the Starmind mon visible to those that might look closely. Notably, there was plenty of room for more. Coming from inside, Gillian and Liina could hear the noise of Gaoian cubs and Human children playing, generally running amok, and if one listened carefully, some level of bickering.
“Wow....,” Liina trailed off.
“What?” Gillian asked, pausing.
“I...your people use wood a lot for decoration. On my world, wood is really rare, and it’s really expensive.”
“Really? Wow. Yeah, we use it for lots of things. Papa showed me something we call a ‘flea market’ once where they had tons of these little carvings of wood, and there was all kinds….ebony wood, mahogany, teak, and I don’t even know what else. Lots of different colors, all really pretty. I’ve never seen them, but I guess on Earth there are places the trees go up so far you can’t even see the sky between them.”
Liina tried and failed to envision something like that, and shook her head. “We should go in.”
In they went, Gillian smiling at the sounds of (mostly) happy play, and Liina’s ears pricked up in excitement, curiosity, and nervousness. Within, the entrance hall held several Mothers watching the kids play. All three turned as they came in, giving them welcoming ear-tilts.
“Good morning,” said the closest.
“Good morning, Mother,” Liina replied automatically. “This is Gillian.”
“Hi, Gillian,” the Mother said. “I’m Mother Urma.”
“Hi,” Gillian said, suddenly a little shy. “I live here in town. Liina is staying with us, an’ my Papa gave us some money and said we could do whatever we wanted today, ‘long as we’re responsible.”
“Well then. You girls are welcome to go on in if you like,” Mother Urma said, with a gesture towards the main central room/amphitheater.
Needing no further invitation, they pushed the doors the rest of the way open and went inside. One corner had a large group of female cubs industriously doing something in a tight huddle, and most of the rest of the room had smaller groups of male cubs in a variety of mostly-physical pursuits. None of the furniture appeared to be in imminent danger of getting broken, probably because all of them clearly knew they were being monitored from the next room.
The group of Female cubs collectively looked up as they approached, and several scooted aside to make room. Gillian looked around as she sat cross-legged in a move Gaoian hips couldn’t possibly emulate, and realized she was the only human in the group. A quick look around the larger room found that there were actually no other humans in the room at all.
“This is Gillian,” Linna said, introducing her. She sat Gaoian-style next to Gillian.
“....Hi,” Gillian said, overcome suddenly by a wave of shyness.
A wave of chirruping greetings ran around the group in untranslated Gaoian. Gillian looked around the group uncertainly, trying to figure out what they were doing. It turned out to be a game of some sort, played with random-looking ceramic tiles that had one blank side, and a picture and inscribed character in loopy Gaoian script on the other. From their appearance, they’d obviously seen many years of use; most were a lopsided octagonal shape, but many had odd lumps here or there, or an upturned side, or the picture was off-center, or some other obvious defect since no two were alike. There was betting going on, utilizing interesting-looking rocks and pebbles which changed paws almost as often as the tiles themselves. It was all very confusing.
The game continued, most of the cubs far too invested in what they were doing to talk to the odd gangly human that sat watching them play. Gillian realized she didn’t mind. It was neat, and she’d never seen a game quite like this one except when Papa and Mama had some of their grown-up friends over.
Come to think of it...it was kind of like poker. Sort of. If poker involved everybody’s cards being face-up and a bunch of rocks.
Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t really like poker at all, but it was the closest thing she’d seen that she could think of. Almost suddenly, the game came to a frenzied end, with a great deal of fuzzy chittering and pointing at one another, and then all eyes turned to the two newcomers.
“Do you want to play with us?” one asked Gillian, ears up and pointed at her alertly.
“Yeah! Only, I don’t really know the rules for your game at all an’ it looks super complicated. But I brought one of my games, if you guys want. The rules are super easy to learn.”
There was much agreement. Everyone, it seemed, was interested in a human game.
“Okay!” Gillian said, taking off her backpack and setting it down with a thud. Liina’s ears went back in surprise.
“That...sounded heavier than it looks. What have you got in there, rocks?”
“Kinda! Only, not really,” Gillian replied. She fished around in the bottom of the bag and came up with a heavy-duty nylon net bag full to the brim of glass marbles. There was a collective ooooooo from the group as they all leaned in to see. Glints of light caught from the windows played this way and that, with the odd opaque marble inside the bag.
“So this is a really old human kids game,” Gillian explained importantly. “My Papa says kids have been playing this on Earth for thousands of years. I don’t know if I have enough for everyone, though...maybe five or six at a time?” She dug out a handful of spheres that were larger and somewhat fancier than most of the rest, setting them to the side and dug in again, grabbing a random handful, and set those down.
“‘Kay. So….we need a circle. ‘Bout this big across,” Gillian said, holding her hands out to indicate. The watching audience moved back, and one produced a suitable length of string from somewhere, which was quickly laid out. “So, you can play for keepsies, which won’t work today, ‘cause you gotta have your own marbles for that. We’ll play for quitsies, which means everybody...uh, me, that is….who brings marbles keeps their own, and anybody can quit at any time. ‘Kay?” There was some jostling to one side from several cubs that wanted to play first, which quickly degenerated into snarls and claws, and which dissipated magically upon the appearance of a Mother at the entryway.
“So,” Gillian went on once the commotion had passed, “You do it like this.” She demonstrated a flick, knocking two marbles out of the circle. “Now, if I was playing for keepsies against somebody else, then I’d keep those and go again. I got...lessee...five shooters, and a whole bag full of ducks here. Um. Those are the littler ones. Everybody got it?” She looked up to a circle of eyes glimmering with undisguised avarice. Gambling, it seemed, was a universal constant.
The shooter marbles were passed around after a quick flash of fuzzy paws in a sort of rock-paper-scissors analogue to determine who got to play first. Gillian was called upon to display how one was supposed to shoot, and the first several attempts by her new friends went mostly careening off to one side or the other. One cub actually flicked his shooter vertically too hard and got himself in the eye, which occasioned much (mostly) good natured chittering and teasing. It took a few tries, but all of them quickly picked it up, and less than ten minutes had gone by before an all-new group was sitting down. Gillian surrendered her shooter to another cub that was looking at her with sad eyes, and stood back with Liina, who had been with the first group since they’d come in together.
Gillian watched them play at marbles for a little while, and then nudged Liina. “What are they doing?”
The ‘they’ in question was a sizeable group on the other side of the room, of larger male cubs in their mid to late teens, clustered around a human tablet watching something involving loud noises, rhythmic shouting, and generally uncivilized noises.
“I have no idea,” Liina started, only to be interrupted by another, smaller female cub sitting next to her.
“They’ve been watching that human video all morning. It’s some kind of ceremonial dance, only they won’t let anybody else see it. Oh, and most of them are from the same creche in Wi Kao, so they think that makes them special or something,” the other cub said dismissively.
Gillian would have responded, had there not been a far more interesting interruption at that point. Outside the room, a man holding a guitar had been talking with several Mothers, and although she couldn’t hear him over the general din, the thrust of his it’ll be fine hand waving at them as he strolled through the double doorway was plain enough to see. She thought she recognized him; he was a regular here at the Faith Center, and she figured he probably actually worked here.
The man calmly walked in, wending his way to and fro around groups of cubs. Once to an open point up near one end of the big room, he swung his guitar around, and with a few experimental chords strummed, had well-nigh undivided attention from the room.
“Good morning,” he said with a nod to the room and the close-lipped smile of a human accustomed to living and working with non-humans. Chirruping little voices answered him in a pitter-patter of untranslated Gaoian from around the room.
“[I thought perhaps we could try singing together today,]” the man went on, this time in not-quite-flawless Gaoian. “[I’m Rabbi Aaron, and I’m very glad to meet all of you. Would you like to sing with me?]”
“What’s that he is holding?” Liina asked Gillian very quietly, leaning up to whisper in her ear.
“It’s just a guitar. Don’t you have guitars?” Gillian said back, trying to be just as quiet.
“What’s a ‘guitar’? I mean, I can see that, but…”
“It’s a musical instrument - strings and stuff. You don’t have those?”
Liina held up one paw and waggled her fingers, then stuck her claws out. “Our fingers aren’t like yours at the ends, remember?”
Up on the stage, Rabbi Aaron had knelt down and was talking to a small group of suddenly-shy young cubs, idly strumming the strings and changing the chords with his other hand. Behind them, most of the room strained to see the musical instrument and the human holding it, with cautious and speculative whispering going back and forth. Abruptly, Rabbi Aaron looked up and around the room, and realized everybody was looking at the guitar, and not him.
“[You’re all wondering what I have here?]” he asked, smiling again. “[This is called a guitar, and it is an instrument common to many cultures on our world. It has strings, as you can see,]” he strummed for illustration. “[And you can change the sounds of the strings with pressure up here.]” He changed chords several times with his other hand to demonstrate. “[On my world, we accompany this with other instruments, or vocals. Guitars take many shapes and can sound many different ways, but this one is my favorite because it doesn’t have anything added to it. It’s just the strings and the big chamber back here,]” he went on, thumping the body of the guitar. “[Nothing fancy.]”
One older cub near the end of his teen years sidled forward. “[Father Gyotin said that there were other musical instruments in here that we could try out, but we had to be careful because we could break some of them.]”
“[Oh, yes,]” Aaron went on. “[There are some that will look familiar to you, and many that won’t. Most of them are human instruments, in fact, although I think we’ve gotten some from your people and a few others. They’re in that storage room over there.]” He pointed at a door to one side of the room.
“[I thought many of you might like to learn some human songs meant for singing without much accompaniment,]” Rabbi Aaron said. “[What do you all think?]” There was much nodding and agreeable chittering at the idea of learning a real human song.
“[Okay, then. Let’s start with something simple! This is called ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’...]”
Many hours later, outside
“Your people have a lot of songs like that to sing along with,” Liina said.
The girls had decided to stay for a long time and sing along with everyone else. The lunch that had materialized an hour or two into the proceedings had also not hurt, but it was getting on towards the middle of the evening, and the sun had started to go down. Gillian had, thankfully, remembered to check with her Papa, who had said that if they were going to stay at the Interfaith Center, to just let him know when they were leaving, and that was fine. The pandemonium that had erupted, however, when the group of Wi Kao males had broken out the conga drums and started a haka, had inspired both of them to find something to do elsewhere.
“Boys,” they said at roughly the same time, for the umpteenth time that day, rolling their eyes at each other. Both giggled.
“Don’t your people have lots of songs, like, campfire songs ‘n stuff?” Gillian asked. She absently gnawed on a cheese stick that she’d surreptitiously stuck in a pocket earlier.
“We do, but they aren’t like that. It’s….hard to describe. Your music just seems really...I don’t know, alien to me.” Liina said reflectively. “A lot of our music uses drums and rhythm, and we don’t sing the way you do. It’s almost more like storytelling, where yours is kind of like poetry set to music. Does that make sense?”
Gillian nodded, and paused with a thought. “Oh! Cause, I just had a thought. I should show you rap music, only we’ll have to wait till tomorrow. Papa thinks I don’t know about his Eminem collection, but that’s my favorite, and I can’t listen to it when he’s home ‘cause he says it isn’t appropriate.”
“What does that mean?” Liina asked.
“I think it’s ‘cause it has bad words and talks about bad things and stuff, but it’s sooooo good,” Gillian explained.
“...Bad words? What are those?”
“Um. Words that are, like, only for adults to say?”
“Oh. I don’t think we have those either. There are words we aren’t supposed to use when we’re cubs, but that’s mostly just because Mothers say we don’t understand them….but that doesn’t mean we can’t.”
“I wish I was a Gaoian. Then I could say swear words and not get in trouble!” Gillian declared. Liina chittered.
“I think just being us is great,” she said.
“Yes!” Gillian fist-pumped into the air. “Go us!”

Rumnchess's Guide to Live Poker. A.K.A Alex Livingston Main Event FT 2019

This is taken from his guide on the forum. Highly recommend for anyone who's new to live/casino poker. He and the other 2 players at this year Main Event Final Table are the ambassador that we need to make poker fun again.

I'm crossposting this from the HUNL forum, but I wrote a brief summary of live poker; some of you may find it interesting and/or (in)accurate.
Rumnchess's Guide to Live Poker
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PART VIII - IntroductionPART XI - Attitude & EtiquettePART XIII - General StrategyPART XV - Bankroll Guidelines (an extremely short section)PART XVII - Player Profiles (quite long by contrast)PART XXIII - Conclusion
PART VIII: Introduction
Live poker is my bread and butter. It has been one of my favorite pasttimes for the last five years of my life, and will always remain so. Along with golf, fine dining, and women, live poker constitutes one of the four core pillars of my life. Over the past few months, I have experienced a period of extraordinarily erratic, and for the most part tumultuous, results in online poker. The advent of heads up superturbos has been particularly disruptive to my confidence, state of mind, and bankroll. Nonetheless, my live results have remained consistently good. I consider live poker my best form of poker, not only relative to the respective fields, but in absolute level of skill. Perhaps just as important as my results, I love everything that live poker has to offer: easily attainable food and beverages, chip shuffling tricks, and an incredibly social and lively atmosphere. Through live poker I have attained an internship with a day trading firm in New York, and free business class flights for the next year. The opportunities for conversation and networking are plentiful, and the live poker world encompasses a fascinating crossection of society. Rarely do such a diverse group of individuals come together. Everyone from min-buying truck drivers to lawyers to wealthy Middle East businessmen can be found at the poker table. To my knowledge, the plethora of people you meet in a cardroom have only one thing in common: they are all notoriously poor players.
PART XI: Attitude & Etiquette
It is extremely important to approach a casino poker game with the correct attitude. Often I see online players who are new to live cardrooms walk into a game with an attitude that is not only harmful to themselves, but to the overall quality of the game. Berating poor card players is not only disrespectful, but is extremely harmful to your bottom line. It is imperative to treat your opponents with respect, and in particular, you should often make an effort to befriend the poor players. Of course if a guy at the table is acting like a complete *******, I will make no effort to be friendly towards him, but at the same time, I will typically avoid being rude towards him, unless absolutely necessary. It is important, however, to make a distinction between your conduct as a person and your conduct as a competitor.
Conduct as a person: Your conduct as a person is the way you act in conversation, your demeanor towards others, and also the way you respect the ettiqute of the game. If I see somebody slow roll another player or try to angleshoot, in my eyes this speaks towards their character as a person, and not their character as a card player or a competitor. There are some exceptions: sometimes a guy who is clearly a novice will take a long time to roll his hand on the river, or make a string bet. Here he is just inexperienced and unfamiliar with the code of the game. It should be fairly obvious to you who is simply new to the sport, and who is deliberately trying to take advantage of their opponents by use of non-poker tactics.
Conduct as a competitor: While I am extremely friendly to my opponents in conversation, etc., I am a ruthless beast as a poker player. If I think a guy wants to avoid playing big pots, I will relentlessly three-bet him in position. Sometimes I will reraise him on each of his first three opens while we are both at the table. This often frustrates and even angers your opponents, but its completely within the ettiquette of the game, and says nothing about your character as a person. Ideally, I want my opponents to like me as a person, but fear me, or dislike me as a card player.
Etiquette:

If the dealer asks you to go to the cage to buy your chips, comply. Every card room has a different process (and in most you can buy chips right at the table), and the last thing you want to do is get off to a bad start with the dealer. Bad karma.2. If a dealer makes a ruling that you disagree with in a hand that you are involved in, do not be silent. Ask to speak to a supervisor, and explain your case clearly and concisely. Be as polite as possible, but be firm.3. Always make your big chips visible. Nothing irks me more than when I think a guy has a $500 stack and he is hiding a tower of black chips behind his red chips.4. String betting is not allowed in any casino I’ve been to. Either announce the amount of your bet or raise, or make sure you bet in one clear motion.5. Tip the dealers when you win a pot of any decent size. My rule of thumb would be that a tip is not necessary for a pot of $40 or less, but for anything beyond that $1 will suffice. I typically tip $2 when I win a pot of $400 or more, and $5 when I win a really huge pot.6. Tip the cocktail waitress $1 when you get a drink.

PART XIII: General Strategy
Before I get into specific player types, I’ll list of general adjustments to make when transitioning from internet poker to the live arena.

Raise bigger preflop. You can get away with raising to 5x or 6x (sometimes even more, depending on the table), because people will call you with the same or greater frequency that they would call a 3x raise online.2. 3bet less frequently. Your edge on the table should be so big that you want to play large pots with deep stack to pot ratios. You also typically want to keep the bigger fish in the pot. Obviously if you are playing at a table of loose fish who will call very wide, it is okay to three bet a reasonably wide value range, but generally, I try to avoid 3betting trash, except against the nitty guys who want to avoid playing big pots.3. Overbet more often. Live players are notoriously unaware of the size of the pot, and of the correct sizings of bets in relation to the size of the pot. A player will typically think more about the actual dollar amount you’re betting than the amount relative to the pot. You will often see opponents make absurd bets like $50 into a $500 pot. As a good player, born and bred on the internet, you should be able to control the size of the pot and determine the correct betting amount in a given situation. Do not be afraid to bet $600 into $400 if you have a big hand, believe your opponent to be reasonably strong, and perceive him as the type who doesn’t care too much about money.4. Play suited junk. As heads up players, most of you should feel in your element here. I advocate playing hands like K4s and Q7s in a live game, particularly if the pots are multi-way. Stacks tend to be deeper in a live game, so your implied odds are greater. Most pots in a live game will be multiway, with poor players who allow you to dictate the size of the pot post flop. Flushes and straights are like jackpots in a live game.

Part XV: Bankroll Guidelines:
I tend to not worry too much about my bankroll because I consider my winrate to be extremely high in these games, and am just a general degenerate. But in general, you need far fewer buy ins to be properly rolled for a live game than you would online. I like to buy into a live game for 200 bbs, and I think that having a roll of 10 such buy ins would be plenty. Keep in mind you are only one tabling, and seeing far fewer hands. Not only that but your winrate per hand should be at least triple what it would be online. $10,000 should be plenty to play 2/5 live.
PART XVII: Player Profiles
It would be extremely time consuming to identify and describe each of the many different player types you will encounter at the poker tables. Therefore, I have chosen five different player profiles that I believe will provide a solid framework for the type of creatures we are dealing with. In parentheses, I’ll indicate that player’s corresponding play style.
The Businessman’s Son (LAG)
Description: Usually Lebanese or Middle Eastern (though they can be Greek, or from other parts of the world), the businessman’s son is a party animal with a seemingly limitless budget. Typically single, under the age of thirty, and comes with an air of sheer and utter lack of responsibility.
Plumage: Designer shirts, designer jeans, expensive jewelry, crocodile shoes.
Poker Style / How to Adjust: The BMS is not afraid to put money in the pot. He comes to play, and he doesn’t like folding. Not only that, but he is almost always accompanied by a couple of cronies, and is sure to try to impress them by showing bluffs, scooping large pots, and being the center of action and attention. As such, the BMS is extremely loose both preflop and post flop, and will often employ tactics such as large unnecessary overbets, merely designed to display his true indifference to money.
3bet a reasonably wide value range vs. this player, but never 3bet as a bluff. Don’t worry if your image is rock tight, you will still get action when you 3bet AA vs. this player. BMS’s have a fold to 3bet of about 1.8%, a decision they usually only make when they are receiving an important phone call on their blackberry. If you have a strong hand, and perceive the BMS to be weak, it can often be correct to trap this player. Even a BMS will sometimes throw away their total air to a flop check/raise, but they will rarely slow down if you check/call. While you will get action from the BMS regardless, it can be helpful to build up a slightly looser image, perhaps even attacking them early, as they will develop a need to personally show you up in the future. It is considered advantageous to show a BMS a bluff for this reason.
Old Man Coffee (TP)
Description: If you never play poker between the hours of 7AM and 8PM, don’t bother looking for old man coffee; he’s at his home, likely sleeping. Usually between the ages of 55 and 90, old man coffee shows up to his local poker game on a strict routine. Some OMC’s are daily grinders, others only show up on Tuesday. But every OMC has a strict poker schedule that he follows and incorporates into his weekly routine. The OMC arrives looking fresh and ready for action. He quietly sits into his favorite seat, pulls out a newspaper, and orders a coffee, black. He rarely displays much emotion, and avoids conversation, unless it is about a violation of the rules, in which case he leaps into action and displays his authority on the matter. Every dealer and supervisor in the casino is on a first name basis with the OMC.
Plumage: Weathered flannel shirts, warn out khakis, bland sweaters, goofy straw hats (more successful OMCs, such as Dan Harrington, have even been spotted with baseball caps)
Poker Style / How to Adjust: The OMC is completely positionally unaware and completely unaware of his opponents. He knows that KJ is a limping hand, so he limps it under the gun, and he limps it on the button. OMC’s generally play tight, and when they do raise (even on the button), you can be sure it’s one of seven possible hands (AA,KK,QQ,JJ,TT,AK,AQ). While Some OMC’s protest raising AQ and TT, most have come to understand that these are acceptable raises in today’s poker environment. Postflop, an OMC will rarely slowplay a big hand, and will often even lead into a multiway field when he flops a set. If an OMC comes out firing big, back off. If he comes out firing small, this is often representative of a middling made hand like middle pair or top pair, weak kicker. It’s often a good time to try to get the OMC off his hand. OMC’s pride themselves on being able to fold hands - they consider it a skill they have honed through decades of poker experience. For this reason, you should almost always try to make an OMC fold his hand by the river if you have reason to believe he is not very strong.
OMCs are weak prey that a professional poker player can eat up for consistent small gains. While you will rarely win large pots form an OMC, you can win many small ones. OMCs are easy to manipulate by simply altering your bet sizing. Often you will arrive at the river in a $180 pot vs. an OMC. You know from experience, that he has top pair, weak kicker here. You also know that he will begrudgingly call a $100 bet, and you know that he will fold to a $150 bet. It’s very simple: bet $100 when you have a hand that wants to be called, and bet $150 when you are bluffing. It sounds too good to be true, but with the OMC, that is the beauty of his game. His decisions are mechanical and predictable. Even if he were perceptive enough to alter his decisions based on his opponent type, he is too stubborn. Raised by a strict father in a household where rules were rules, the OMC was never given enough freedom to actively develop an imagination or any sort of creative thought of his own.
The Middle Aged Guy With Everything To Prove (A mix)
Description: Often from New Jersey, the MAGWEP owns a small business, and he can’t wait to tell everyone around him about its success. In reality, MAGWEPs almost always earn between 35 and 100k per year. The MAGWEP is happily married, as you can see by obnoxiously large wedding band displayed around his ring finger. The MAGWEP loves to talk strategy; rather, the MAGWEP loves to tell you how you misplayed a hand. When he gets sucked out on, the MAGWEP always lets out some sort of verbal declaration, and then often bangs the table and gives the dealer some sort of dirty look. MAGWEPs cannot stand young internet poker players; they are subconsciously aware of their own inferiority in skill to these players, and are threatened by the seemingly reckless attitudes of their competitors. When a young internet player sits down at a poker table, a look of concern appears very briefly on the face of a MAGWEP, but not long enough for anybody to notice. This look will disappear quickly, and the MAGWEP will refer to the internet player as “kid” for the rest of the session, announcing his dominance. MAGWEPs always appear to be more interested in sports than they really are (they are interested, but not obsessed, as they try to convey), and often try to converse with the other players about the table about the future of their football team. Generally, but not always, it could be said that MAGWEP’s have some form of need to assert their masculinity, which can often be attributed to physical deficiencies in certain areas.
Plumage: Working man’s jeans, sweatshirts (often emblazoned with the logo of their son’s university), baseball caps.
Poker Style / How to Adjust: MAGWEP’s can range from being reasonably tight to quite loose, but they are almost always aggressive. They understand the basic theory that raising is better than limping in, and have incorporated it into their game. They are even somewhat positionally aware, and would do things like raise 76s on the button, something an OMC would never dream of doing. MAGWEPs tend to get waaaaaaaay too attached to premium starting hands, and are often even guilty of overplaying AK on whiffed flops. Flop a set when a MAGWEP has aces, and the money is all yours, no matter what.
MAGWEPs give away several very obvious tells. The most noticeable one is when a MAGWEP is involved in a hand, and he has check/called a bet on the flop, and then the turn falls. The MAGWEP will look his opponent right in the eyes, and then he will check the table so viciously that it might even startle some of the other players. When the MAGWEP does this, you can be damn sure that he has a marginal to strong, but not super strong, made hand. Occasionally he will have a semi-strong draw in this spot too. The MAGWEP is essentially trying to intimidate his opponent into keeping the pot small by checking behind. He feels that his eye contact and intense slamming of the felt will do so. Sometimes it can be difficult to decide whether or not to continue with a bluff in spots like these. On the one hand, the MAGWEP doesn’t want to fold, but on the other hand, he knows that you know that he is pretending to be committed to showing his hand down, so he may feel that you won’t bluff him here (the MAGWEP does have some poker smarts). My advice would be go with recent history: if you have a crazy animal image, now would be a good spot to cut your losses, but if you’ve been reasonably tight thus far, try to take it away from him.
The Internet Kid (LAG/TAG)
Description: While you will find “internet kids” of all descriptions playing live poker from time to time, the most common one I see is the 1-2 NL grinder. The kind of guy that plays 6-8 tables 15-20 hours a week online, and, when he sits in a live game, thinks he is God’s gift to poker. Often wearing a backwards hat and a smug grin. Typically enters the casino with two or three of his buddies, one of whom is almost certainly a novice poker player. While generally congenial and easy going, the internet kid can get extremely defensive when his poker skills are brought into question.
Plumage: Jeans, polo shirts, Birkenstocks, hooded sweatshirts, watches in the $100-500 price range, sometimes sunglasses.
Poker Style / How to Adjust: The IK tends to be tight aggressive, while some more brazen varieties are loose aggressive. He is positionally aware and willing to mix up his game and play creatively. While the IK will make quite a bit of money from the fish in the game, an experienced and aware opponent can profit quite nicely from the IK by putting him in spots that he is uncomfortable. If you are seated to the left of an IK, both flat and 3bet him relentlessly, and establish your presence as table captain. You want to be the one playing multiway pots against fish, and when he opens the pot, he cuts into your win rate. Figure out what kind of IK he is: some will buy in for 50 or 80 big blinds and play a scared money style, others are overly bold and bluff happy. Focus much of your people reading skills on figuring out exactly how the IK plays (it will be incredibly obvious to obtain this information on the other players at the table). Also try to figure out how the IK perceives you: unlike the other player types, the IK will actually be capable of adjusting his play based on your play and your dynamic with him. Do everything you can to take the IK out of his comfort zone: show him bluffs, own him with overbets for value, etc. etc.
Keep in mind that some more inexperienced IKs can actually be good opponents to have at the table: they will play a straightforward style, and their ranges will be very obvious. Study the IK at great length, and even go out of your way to make eye contact when you get involved in pots with him - this will often make him uneasy and you will be able to pick up physical tells. Remember, the IK is used to hiding behind a computer screen, and is not necessarily socially adjusted or in solid control of his emotions and body language.
The Friendly Whale (LP)
Description: We save the best for last. The Friendly Whale is an icon in any live poker game - there’s almost certainly sure to be at least one at every table. Some of my best friends in the poker world are friendly whales, and most are between the ages of forty and fifty-five. Not only do FWs consistently give me large sums of money, they also tend to be accomplished, interesting, and conversational people. And the best part about them is that they don’t care when they lose, so there are no hard feelings, or awkward moments when your hour long conversation is interrupted only to have you win $1,000 off them. Friendly whales come in many shapes and sizes, but tend to be middle aged businessmen with successful business ventures or other forms of employment. Despite being the poorest card player I have profiled, the FW is arguably the most life successful type, and is the envy of MAGWEPs worldwide.
Plumage: Business casual: dress shoes, khakis and casual/dress shirts. More conservative FWs may sport a blazer or slacks.
Poker Style / How to Adjust: FWs are the loose passive fish that poker players dream of. Recreational players who enjoy the thrill of the game, FWs rarely miss a flop with any two cards that have even the remotest of similarities to each other. The beauty of the FW is that he is eager and willing to call large bets, but will rarely bet or raise himself without an extremely powerful hand. It is therefore extremely easy to bet/fold extremely strong hands on the river against an FW, as he may well call you with fourth pair but would be unlikely to raise you without the nuts. Value bet, value bet, value bet. Often you can get three streets of value out of 2nd pair, top kicker vs. an FW. If you have a huge hand, consider overbetting for value, and also consider incorporating some overbet bluffs into your arsenal (even an FW can fold a hand to significant pressure, but try to feel the situation out and use this move sparingly). If an FW is in the pot, you should not be looking for an excuse to play a hand, but rather looking for an excuse not to. Mix in some overlimps with your weakest hands, and make small to medium raises with your suited connector type stuff, and bigger raises with your pure value hands. Nobody at the table will notice when you make it 6x with AA and 4x with Jts - remember, you are trying to accomplish two different things with these two hands, and so it would make sense to adjust your raise sizes accordingly. When you make a very strong nut type hand, and believe the FW to be reasonably strong, hammer the pot with large bets and raises. Do not be scared of frightening the FW off, if he likes his hand, he will stay in almost no matter the price. FWs favorite thing to say after making a bad call, usually accompanied by a chuckle and a smile, is “well at least I can sleep at night”. FWs are wonderful people, great for the game, and fantastic for your bottom line.
PART XXIII: Conclusion
Live poker is the nuts. You get to sit at a table with interesting people from around the world, and hear their life stories. You hear married men ***** about their wives, and listen to Norweigan businessmen who have played 100,000 euro pots. You experience a general sense of comraderie that cannot be replicated in the online arena. I advise you this: do not judge a person’s character by the way he plays cards. Even the biggest whales in the world can be fascinating, interesting and successful people. Take time to soak in the atmosphere and enjoy the full experience of playing live: winning money will take care of itself.

Worf Poker

Hellbound XV - The Lady

First
Previous

Commander Sam Robinson – Valkyrie – Dimensional plane of Arenal – Royal Court of Trellafjal – 2 weeks, 3 days since the Infernal Invasion of Earth

The dwarven king seemed taken aback. “We don’t know any of these gods that you speak of. Well, what about values that you might have, or any oaths that you might have pledged? We can test for your piety that way as well. It is an exception that we allow so that we can still have a test of piety for the people who are from more godless and savage races, or outcasts who never pledged themselves to any particular god.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, yes. There is an oath that I pledged.” Sam answered, slightly relieved at that information.
“Ah, excellent.” The king replied. “Is it an oath of duty and honour, like that of our soldiers? Or perhaps one of love and motherhood, like those of our wives?”
Although there were no more crass remarks from the noble dwarves ever since Sam had killed that giant, she still got annoyed at these dwarves. She had to constantly remind herself that it was simply a cultural difference, and that much of humanity had been the same way for a very long time. And as an officer of the U.N. armed forces, it was her duty to be diplomatic, to understand those differences and strive to keep peace and do the best she could. With a slight sigh Sam spoke. “Like that of your soldiers, your majesty. The oath I took is about duty primarily.”
“Well then, I think I’ll have a priest of the Mountain Lord speak to you. His domain encompasses Duty and Honour.” The king said as he turned slightly to look behind him and raised his hand. Almost immediately an old looking dwarf stepped forward. Not old in that he looked senile, but old enough to have many wrinkles and a grey bushy beard, along with a bald head. He carried an imposing staff that was adorned in gold and all kinds of intricate runes and script, similar to his white flowing robes that was decorated with all kinds of golden pins and religious iconography.
“Your test of piety will be simple. The priest will take you to a private room inside the courthouse and he will determine if you have been faithful and true to your own beliefs and oath.” The king said, prompting the priest to wave towards Sam and beckon her into the courthouse as he turned around and went in himself.
“You can take off your armour, if you so desire.” The king said with a smile. “The next tests are all about you and your mind, there will be no more fighting.”
“++Ah, crap.++” Sam subvocalized. “Thank you for the offer, your majesty. But our suits of armour are a bit, uh, complicated and if we get out, it will break a bit and it’s hard to repair.” Sam said as she told the same lie they have told so far.
“Oh, that’s terrible.” The king said, surprising Sam with his genuine concern. Nevertheless, Sam moved towards the courthouse, following the priest who was already inside.
“++Stay on high alert and notify me the moment something fishy happens. And still no sign of that mysterious dwarven lady?++” Sam asked as she entered the courthouse.
“++Sorry commander, we don’t see her anywhere. We’ve triple-checked all our footage since we entered the city and a few hours before that.++” Jacqueline answered.
“++Which isn’t to say she couldn’t be some kind of common folk with a magical talent for invisibility.++” Myrael continued.
“++Still, get ready for any shenanigans.++” Sam replied as she followed the priest who was already at the end of the decorated hall of the courthouse and went inside a side chamber. Sam moved a bit faster to try and catch up with the deceptively fast moving old dwarf.
As Sam caught up and turned around the corner she lost sight of the dwarven priest. Which was very strange, because it was a very small room, with a small square stone table and stone chairs, and some bookshelves. Sam didn’t see the priest scuttling underneath the stone table, so she was getting ready to put on her helmet and fight off an ambush, when she heard a woman’s voice from behind her. “Hello.”
Sam instantly reacted and as she turned around she pointed her left arm point blank at the voice, ready to fire her laser, only to see the mysterious dwarven lady in the plain brown cloak. The room was dark and badly illuminated with just a single torch on the opposite wall, but Sam could still clearly see the lady’s facial features without her helmet on, as though the dwarf radiated some light herself. “++Possible ambush.++” Sam subvocalized as she moved her helmet to face the mysterious visitor, while keeping her left arm aimed at the stranger. Sam heard the clicks in her earpiece, indicating that the others were keeping an eye on her helmet’s camera feed.
Despite having seen the demonstration Sam gave while killing the giant, the dwarven lady did not seem scared or nervous at all. “Please, commander. I mean no harm, I’m only here to talk." Her voice was strangely powerful, yet melodic, as though they were in an orchestral building that had perfect acoustics, rather than what appeared to be a small study chamber.
Sam caught on quick. “++She’s not afraid. She’s powerful.++” Sam subvocalized.
“Please. If this was an ambush, I would’ve brought reinforcements.” The lady said, then smiled. “Ah, where are my manners. My name is Vistrana. What is yours?”
Sam slowly took a step back and lowered her left arm. “I am commander Valkyrie. Of the Paladins, I guess. Why the deception?” Sam said without a shred of politeness.
“Unlike the Sylvan empire that has united all elves, the dwarven kingdoms of Arenal and the few empires on the dwarven home plane are fractured and divided. As a result, they are not the most powerful single entity in the dwarven clans.” Vistrana said with a patient smile as she slowly moved towards the stone chair and sat down.
“But you represent the entity that does?” Sam asked, raising her eyebrow. Sam moved to stand behind the stone chair on the opposite side of Vistrana. She wanted to stay ready in case it was an ambush. That and the chair didn’t look strong enough to support her suit’s weight. “And let me guess, you have a deal of some sort for me and my companions.”
“My, aren’t you clever. And quite fluent in dwarven even though you couldn’t possibly have been around dwarves for more than a week or two.” Vistrana smiled. “But, yes. I have a deal for you.”
“I’m listening.” Sam said, still uneasy and ready to fight.
“All you have to do is listen to a story I have for you and in return the old priest of the Mountain Lord will say that you have passed the test of piety.” Vistrana said as she put up a calm and patient face.
“++That’s it?++” Myrael asked over comms.
“++No harm in listening, right?++” Jacqueline added.
Sam thought for a moment. “Alright. I’ll take it. Tell me your story.”
“Excellent!” Vistrana said joyfully. “Now, this isn’t my story, but a story of a dwarven king who had two sons, and the tragedy that befell him and his family due to their greed and lust for power.”
Sam raised her eyebrow, but made no sound, only indicating that Vistrana should continue.
“These two sons were twins. But like all dwarven kingdoms and all dwarven clans, only the eldest inherits the legacy of the father. As you can imagine, the youngest one got ambitious and greedy. Alas, so blinded by love was the father that he could not see the danger. And so, blinded by a want for glory and honour was the eldest twin, that he pushed for a war against a neighbor. The father, confident in his kingdom’s strength, obliged and went to war for his eldest son. In the war the twins fought bravely, always seeking glory and honor and to pin victories upon their name. In fact, the twins fought so hard and bravely that they were heralded as great heroes, part of a great few who would have songs written about them. Until one of the last battles of the war. Victory all but clear, the eldest son was suddenly ambushed. He fought bravely, but still perished in the end. Some say it was hubris that led him into this ambush. Others say it was the younger twin.”
“++100 Credits that she is talking about clan Stoneheart.++” Myrael said while Sam contemplated this first part of the story.
“++That’s too vague, and too easy! Is the current king the younger twin, a descendant? I’m betting he still is the current king, 200 credits.++” Alix replied.
“++Damn, you never raise me. Alright, I’ll take that bet.++” Myrael said with a smile.
Sam internally rolled her eyes at Myrael and Alix. “I take it you are talking about clan Stoneheart?”
“My, you are smart indeed. Then again, why else would I tell you this story, no?” Vistrana smiled brightly as she laughed. “Yes, but my story might have a different ending than you expect.”
“Then please, continue.” Sam replied.
“Very well.” Vistrana said with yet another enigmatic smile. “Much like the father, blinded by love, and the eldest, blinded by glory and honour, so too was the youngest blinded by greed and power. He did not anticipate clan Grimforge pushing hard for a trial. In a similar manner he was ambushed, but this time by evidence and eyewitnesses. The king could not bear to execute him, so banished him instead, leaving him without heirs.”
“Is that king you speak of, the current king?”
“Yes.” Vistrana replied with a smile, causing Myrael to start cursing.
“++Awww yeah!++” Alix hollered in celebration
“The interesting part of this story is that the king was still quite young. Young enough that he and his queen now desperately tried to create another boy, and heir to his kingdom. And at last, after a long time of trying, the queen finally became pregnant. But to the king’s dismay the queen had died giving birth and had left only a daughter, not a son.”
Sam raised her eyebrows at that, “You’re right. This story is taking a turn I did not expect.”
“++Want to bet on who or what the crown prince is, Myrael?++” Alix said.
“++Nah, you took enough of my money as it is.++” He quickly replied.
“Oh yes, and the king, torn apart by grief for his wife, his sons, and his legacy, went mad. He took his newborn daughter, cackling with joy one moment and screaming in tears the next, as he raced to his younger brother’s chambers, whose wife just happened to be giving birth as well. The king pushed out all the servants who were helping and then followed a long night of hushed whispers and labored breaths. In the morning it became clear that the younger brother’s wife had also died in childbirth, giving birth to a daughter. Yet the king was not perturbed, as he reappeared from the room and held his newborn son.
“++Oh, snap. Did not see that one coming.++” Myrael said.
“++Bet you that she wants us to act on it? Why else tell the story?++” Alix replied.
“++Oh, please, that’s too easy.++” Myrael countered.
“++Wait, how does clan Grimforge play into this?++” Sam subvocalized, then noticed that Vistrana was staring at her lips and throat. Was she following what Sam was subvocalizing?
“++They don’t-++” Jacqueline said, but was promptly cut off by Sam.
“++Compromised channels.++” Sam subvocalized.
“No, wait.” Vistrana promptly said, as though she was reacting directly on what Sam said, then realized her mistake.
Sam raised her left arm once more, aiming at Vistrana’s head. “What are you?”
“I’m not allowed to say.” Vistrana said, this time without a smile.
“How were you able to understand what I said in private?” Sam asked.
“I’m not allowed to say.” Vistrana replied, worry now appearing on her face for the first time.
“What is the entity that you represent?” Sam asked, now standing up and ready to go full blast.
“I’m not allowed to say!” Vistrana shouted. “Please, bear with me. I will finish the story, I’ll even answer your question, and regardless of what you do, I will still say that you have passed the test of piety.”
Sam held a moment of silence, holding the pressure on Vistrana. “Talk.” Sam finally said.
Vistrana breathed a small sigh of relief, then quickly continued. “From what we gathered, the younger brother loved his wife so much that he too went mad with grief. He accepted the deal, his son for his brother’s daughter. Each would raise them as their own, which is why the dying wife accepted the deal and made Lord Gremdall swear he would abide by it as well. It was her dying wish that her newborn son would become king.”
“But Lord Gremdall isn’t happy with the deal anymore.” Sam added.
“Correct. We believe that he has manipulated many events that have caused the kingdom to nearly come to a crisis point. The people are made to believe that clan Grimforge and the king are at odds with each other, because Grimforge wish to rule themselves or because the king wants revenge for having to banish his own son, when actually it is Lord Gremdall who has been plotting this from inside of clan Stoneheart, seeking to become king himself.”
“Right. If Lord Gremdall didn’t swap his son for a daughter, he would be next in line for succession?” Sam asked, vaguely remembering the rules of primogeniture succession thanks to some drunken nights of Jacqueline trying to explain a movie that they were watching.
“Correct.” Vistrana said, a slight smile returning once more.
“That’s the story?” Sam asked.
“Well, yes-“ Vistrana said.
“Then I thank you for letting us pass the test.” Sam interrupted and began turning around towards the door.
“Wait! Do you have no further questions? Aren’t you going to do something about this?” Vistrana asked as she stood up.
Sam sighed. “Do what?” Sam asked, already anticipating the feeling of having to disappoint someone who was asking for help.
Vistrana slowly stepped forward, closer to Sam, talking with much more gesticulation. “Help us restore honour to this kingdom, restore the rightful line of succession and-“
Sam swiftly cut her off. “I serve no monarchy.”
“What? But… what about those gods you mentioned to king …!? Do they not compel you humans to a sense of honour and duty, to do what is right?” Vistrana pleaded.
Sam turned her body around to more fully face Vistrana and stared directly at her. “You mean if humans follow a god. Even if they do, our duty to our fellow citizens comes first. In this case that means that the only thing we care about is getting home.”
Sam saw slight signs of uncertainty and confusion. Vistrana was clearly a good poker player but the sheer cultural difference between humans and dwarven society seemed to perturb even her. Sam was about to turn around and leave the room when Vistrana, to her credit, rallied once more. “Wait! This information is all… very, new. But I still have another proposal for you.”
“You’re not going to renege on us passing the test of piety are you?” Sam asked.
“No, of course not. I want you to trust me, and that means I will keep to my word. No matter what, you will pass the test.” Vistrana replied, her eyes betraying a far more uncertain mindset than at the beginning of this conversation.
“Alright, talk.” Sam said.
“I will help you get home. I will help out where ever I can with the next two remaining tests, and I’ll even give you whatever little bit of extra gold or small magical crystals I’m allowed to use for my mission, and in return you help me expose the lies behind Lord Gremdall and king …, thereby proving clan Grimforge’s innocence.”
“Do you have evidence?” Sam asked.
Vistrana seemed surprised at the question. “Uh, no, but-“
“Then no. No offense, but just because you help us pass a few tests does not mean we are going to go on the offensive against an entire kingdom on hearsay alone.” Sam said swiftly.
“Oh. I… I understand. It seems I have yet to learn much. Or perhaps you humans have become much stranger than the stories about you from so long ago.” Vistrana said with a timbre of disappointment to her voice. She stepped forward, slowly and reached with one hand into her cloak. Sam was ready to execute a swift tackle followed up with an efficient double laser tap to the head until she saw that Vistrana was merely grabbing a small pouch. She opened it to reveal a small handful of gold and a few magical crystals the size of an ant. She held up the pouch towards Sam and continued softly. “I will still give this to you, as a sign of trust and good faith. I truly hope you will change your mind later and that you humans can help bring about change in this corrupted kingdom.”
Sam slowly took the pouch, but the moment she did, Vistrana disappeared. Sam reacted immediately and threw her helmet on. “++Any of you saw that?++”
“++She disappeared!++” Alix shouted back.
“++Check infrared recordings, maybe invisibility is a magical spell, and…++” Myrael asked, as he was busy rewinding, checking and double checking himself as well.
“++Nothing. Last bit of infrared I can see is the exhale of her breath, then nothing.++” Þorgeir said after a minute.
“++Shit. I hate magic.++” Sam said as she stepped out of the room and saw the old priest, already at the courthouse doors and followed him, pouch in hand.

A few hours later

“Alright! Alright! Not too hard, not too easy!” the king shouted back at the nobles. The discussion, while politer than the previous ones, was not any more fruitful. About half of the clans, led by clan Grimforge, wanted the test of wisdom to be a difficult one. Their argument was primarily based on the humans still being outsiders, had a strange culture, and that they hadn’t actually been tested yet, just their suits.
The other clans, led by the other clans that were clearly loyal to the king and clan Stoneheart, argued that the suits were clearly human in make and that the tests were doing as intended. Was it not wisdom already that they thought to make such powerful suits? Besides, they had already fought devils and defend clan Stoneheart. Clearly, they were not fools.
“So, no test of the guards, and no riddles of the ancients.” The king said as he sat and thought.
“++The real test has to be this test of my patience. And I am failing badly.++” Myrael commented.
“++I just hope we’re not going to get an extra stupid test based on medieval levels of wisdom, like, is Arenal flat or round? And then we say it is round, but then they think it is flat, so we’d still be wrong.++” Alix remarked.
Myrael brightened up at that. “++Actually, did you know that educated people in medieval times actually knew that the Earth was round? It’s a myth that-“
“++-that people thought it was flat and that they therefore didn’t want to sponsor Columbus? But it was actually because all the educated actually knew that it was round and that Columbus was too dumb to sponsor, because they all thought there was too much ocean in-between Europe and India directly?++” Jacqueline cut in.
“++Yeah, we know Myrael. It’s the one thing you keep telling us and repeating whenever you get too drunk.++” Þorgeir said.
“++Wait, what? Hold on, how come I’m only learning this about myself, now!?”++ Myrael said and immediately continued cursing softly.
“++Pipe down.++” Sam subvocalized, still the only one with her helmet off. “++I think mister ‘my-kingdom-for-a-son’ here is about to propose a really stupid test.++”
“The rope-pulling test!” the king said out loud. Immediately the majority of the other clans started to nod in an approving manner. A few hushed whispers here and there and a short while later the majority of the dwarven clans voted in favour.
“Alright, bring forth the bearers!” the king shouted, clearly glad that at least the voting went fast enough. Moments later a handful of young men came out of the courthouse, carrying multiple items and boxes. It was hard to see as they were all draped in simple white or red cloth. Then came two somewhat older dwarves, one wearing red and another white.
The young dwarves then put their items down and proceeded to hold up a massive white and red checkered cloth, to prevent everyone from the other side to see how they were assembling the other items together.
“++I… don’t think they realize we can see everything they are doing. Two of the bugs are perfectly placed.++” Jacqueline said.
“++Commander, you don’t have your helmet on, but we’re recording the footage now, so that if you have any questions, we can find out for you.++” Þorgeir said with a hint of mirth in his voice.
A few minutes passed and the two older dwarves stepped to each side of the dividing cloth. The younger men then dropped the cloth, quite glad they didn’t have to stand so awkwardly at an angle anymore to prevent the much taller Sam from seeing what they were doing. As the cloth was pulled away, Sam could see a big knot the size of a head, made from many small pieces of red and white pieces of rope, though they were more string-like in size. And from the knot a multitude of thin ropes were held by each dwarf, one on each finger, held in place by gloves that had special metal loops to which the ropes were tied to.
“The test is simple.” The king said out loud as he stood to the side. “Before you, you will see many intricate knots woven together. Many pieces of rope and string were used. But we have also hidden three rings in this test. A red ring, a white ring, and lastly a golden ring. Your task will be to pull on the correct strings of rope that has each ring.” The king then pointed to the white dwarf and then the red dwarf. “Each man will hold ten pieces of rope each. They made the knot and know exactly which rope will reveal which ring, or nothing at all. However, one man will always lie, and the other will always tell the truth.”
The Paladins couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The dwarves reacted with a bit of confusion at that, but for Sam and the others, these kinds of riddles were both quite prevalent in children’s books and human history, but also didn’t take into account that the bugs quite literally saw every part of the assembly. Sam took a nonchalant step forward when the king interrupted her.
“Wait! There are some extra rules!” Causing Sam to stop and look at the king. “One, you are not allowed to destroy the knot, the rings, or the ropes. There was an incident many centuries ago with a similar test and ever since then every test has a strict ‘do-not-destroy’ policy. Two, no threatening us, the red or white dwarf, or any kind of other malicious activity! There was a particularly nasty djinn some 400 years ago who threatened the unborn children of some dwarves to reveal the answer, so that’s that rule. And lastly, the third rule, you can only look at the knot, you are not allowed to touch it. If you want to pull a rope, tell us which one you want pulled. To make it clear, there is a rope for each finger on each man’s hand. So, say something like, pull the red man’s left thumb, we’ll do it for you. If you break any rules, or if you pull the wrong rope 3 times, and you fail the test.”
“++White man’s right middle finger rope for the red ring, still looking for the white and golden rings.++” Þorgeir said.
“++That’s awfully quick.++” Sam subvocalized.
“++Well, they took a while assembling it and we watched the entire thing. Also, the suits have a handy tracking feature, so it’s not difficult at all.++”
“++Shouldn’t we at least pretend to ask some questions and let them underestimate us?++” Jacqueline asked.
“++I think they believe we repelled an army of literal devils, so I think the time for that is over. Besides, we’ve been standing around for damn near 14 hours, time to get a move on and go home.++” Sam replied while she pretended to look intensely at the knot.
“++White ring is if you pull the red dwarf’s left pinky finger.++” Myrael replied.
“++Ah, beat me to it.++” Þorgeir said.
“++I can’t seem to find the gold ring. It’s like it never appeared. Anyone else found it?++” Alix asked.
“++I’ve been rewinding for a while, but I don’t see a golden ring at all.++” Jacqueline replied. “++Oh, what if it is a switcheroo, and the golden ring isn’t inside of the knot at all?++”
“++Mmh, tricksy. Turn on the scanners and look for a golden ring.++” Sam subvocalized.
Myrael laughed. “++Haha, oh yeah. Found it. It’s dangling from the red dwarf’s right wrist. Without infrared it’s a bit harder to see, as it’s hidden inside his sleeve, but you can still see a similar looking rope on his wrist.++”
“++Good job.++” Sam replied with a smile and slowly stepped towards the white dwarf on the left.
Myrael quickly repeated which finger it was, and Sam said it out loud. “White dwarf, please pull the rope on your right hand’s middle finger.”
At first the white dwarf looked at her like she had gone mad, and he looked around in utter confusion as to what he should do. The dwarven crowd around them had also quickly descended into shock or loud murmurs and speculations. Despite the king looking on in disbelief, he still nodded to the dwarf indicating that he should pull.
As the white dwarf pulled, the knot slowly unraveled a bit. As he pulled a bit more, the knot unraveled a bit more, enough to detach a smaller knot from the bigger knot. The white dwarf then lowered his hand, so that the rope would point downwards and from the smaller knot a red ring slowly glided down. Instantly shouts of disbelief erupted as every dwarf now jostled for position, trying to get a closer look at the ring, to see if no trick or illusion had been played upon their eyes.
Sam smiled, while the other humans were laughing hysterically over the comms. “Wuh, what happened!?” Arundosar asked, trying to get the attention of Jacqueline. “How’d she do that!?”
As Sam turned to go to the red dwarf, she could see the shocked face of the mysterious Vistrana, far in the back. “++Our mysterious lady has returned, in the back, south southeast from me.++” Sam subvocalized.
“++Gotcha! I’m tracking her!++” Alix said.
“++I’m rewinding and tracking. Found her. She seems to appear the moment they started constructing the knots. Going through the rest of the footage, it looks like she is trying to give you not so subtle hints about which finger to pull. She got her first hint wrong, by the way.++” Þorgeir recounted.
“++So, she’s not that all that powerful?++” Sam subvocalized her current thought.
“++Doesn’t look like it. Oh, and the next ring is on the left pinky finger and right wrist.++” Þorgeir added to remind Sam.
Sam pretended to ignore Vistrana and continued moving to the red dwarf. “Please pull on your left pinky finger.” This request was joined with anticipation along with the disbelief from the dwarven crowd. But after some hesitation the red dwarf pulled on the requested rope, and in a similar fashion, revealed the white ring.
This time the crowd was truly impressed, though the bugs were picking up some murmurs of accusations of collusion or cheating. Sam smiled through it and waited for some of the applause and cheers to die down. “++Vistrana’s lower jaw is on the floor, and so is everyone else’s.++” Þorgeir said.
“++Strange, the king is looking concerned.++” Myrael said.
“++Maybe he thinks it’s strange for a woman to know the answer to a really stupid riddle?++” Sam subvocalized as she continued to pretend to study the knot, looking for the golden ring.
After a minute of pretending to look pensively, the crowd’s noises died down a bit. From the bugs it was quite clear that some of the older dwarves already knew that the golden ring wasn’t inside the big knot at all, as they were whispering to each other in an almost gloating fashion. But Sam didn’t feel like wasting any more time, and stared at the white dwarf and then the red dwarf intently. She then stepped towards the red dwarf and looked at his right wrist, where she could see the faint glimmer of the golden ring hiding in his sleeve.
“Please pull on your right wrist’s rope.” Sam said with a smile. His face turning an equal red to his robes, the red dwarf turned his gaze away and slowly grabbed the golden ring and showed it to Sam, and then the crowd. This time the applause was more subdued, as people were more in shock and confused as to how Sam knew, rather than impressed.
Sam smiled and turned towards the king. “What’s the next test?”

Devil Lord Belial – The Ever Furious – Dimensional plane of Arenal – City of… – 2 weeks, 4 days since the Infernal Invasion of Earth

The siege was successful. Rushing the gates with a flood of bodies was costly. The walls and its insides fell quickly, that wasn’t the problem. It was that he was running out of time. Scouts reported that the host of the imperial Sylvan army was one week away from his position, much faster than anticipated. What was worse was that the vanguard of that army had found his soldiers while they were ransacking the city, and reinforced the Academy tower. Thankfully Belial had sent his newly arrived pit fiends to attack the tower. An individual pit fiend was strong enough to withstand most of a Mage’s spells and 20 of them together were making short work of the tower’s inhabitants.
But it wasn’t enough for the flying towers of the vanguard. They stayed up, high and mighty, throwing fireballs and arrows down into the street where his soldiers did not have enough room to maintain formations. Thousands died, until the pit fiends and the other fliers were finally able to repel the vanguard. Belial stood in the middle of the city’s main square. Around him hundreds of buildings were burning amidst the crumbling ruins of the fallen Academy’s tower. 6 Legions worth of soldiers fell. Recounting and reshuffling would have to be done by the coming morning, but Belial estimated he had about 34 full legions left and some spare.
It was far from enough to keep raiding inside the Sylvan empire and keep sieging cities. This city was not worth that, and his decision to assault it this night was perhaps too costly. But he knew this going in. He gambled. And ultimately, he was victorious. He wouldn’t be sieging any more cities, but he could now continue his pursuit of the humans.
Belial clutched some magical crystals. The biggest one the size of an elf’s fist. Catching the city by surprise allowed his pit fiends to grab some of the crystals before they were used as fuel to destroy his soldiers. With this big one he could open up a portal for Azzazzel’s troops near the border to Earth. The first plan was for his army to arrive in another two weeks. But with forced marches and admittedly good leadership, this was reduced to one week.
That wasn’t going to be enough. Belial would have to swallow his pride and summon a portal that could set Azzazzel’s army directly at the planar border of Earth. This was the only way they could reliably catch the humans before they escaped back to their own plane. And as long as they were out here, they were alone and vulnerable, ready to be taken and tortured and corrupted for their valuable secrets.
But the biggest prize of tonight, far more valuable than the city or the crystals, was right in front of Belial, being tortured on wooden spikes on the city square. The Mage Razmartun. With Azzazzel blocking the way back, Belial could hunt the humans constantly, giving them no rest or time. Belial looked forward to that day, to break their pride and to taste the salt of their tears. For now, he would have to settle for breaking the captured elven mage before him. The same Razmartun that one of those weak elven peasants told him about. The same Razmartun that, amidst the mounds of corpses and the ruins of this city, was still defiant in his capture. Yes, he was weak like the others and Belial would break him, but it could take days. He didn’t have the time.
“You have my respect Mage. As such, I am willing to make a deal. One that I will keep to, this I swear.” Belial said as his burning eyes bore deep into Razmartun’s.
“It is true then? Devils must keep to their own word?” Razmartun’s voice was ragged, obviously exhausted from the constant pain and the stress on his body.
“Yes. It is how we keep order amidst the constant corruption, amidst all the lies and manipulations.” Belial said as Razmartun seemed to register it and barely nodded. “Tell me what I wish to know about the humans, and I shall grant you a swift death. You will not be taken as a slave, your soul will not be corrupted, and you will join your elven gods.”
Razmartun cried. “I will. I accept. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

Next
Not entirely sure if I like how this chapter turned out, feels like I did too much of a worldbuilding dump. Perhaps I should’ve spread it out a bit more. But hopefully you all picked up on the subtle hints I’ve been trying to sprinkle here and there.

My Ranking of Every Death Match (#14-1, Part IV)

Part 3 Oh boy, we’re back again now boys, and it’s only a year wait! :D
So yeah. I had a lot of stuff going on in my life, so truthfully I kinda forgot this list existed for a year lmao… And I suppose to make it up to you people who for some reasons still waiting on this list, I decided to just list it all from number 14 all the way to number 1, so that way I’ll be done with this project and can move on to other things! Idk why I didn’t do this earlier when I started, but oh well…
(BTW, spoilers from season 1-4 as always)
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#14: Betting Black and White
Most of you guys have been expecting this to be much more lower than it should be. In fact, I had thought about switching this with the poker games from the previous part. However, a lot of that thought kinda was result oriented with what happened in the show. Like, there’s probably a counter strategy to Hyunmin’s tactic in season 3. And heck, the fact that they tried to bring it again as a final match must’ve be a sign that they had a different gameplay in mind for that version to counter that tactic. And yeah, as much as I like to watch the poker games, I just felt this game was more creative in concept.
But still, tho, there are 13 other games that are better than this. And even with my defence, I still think this game isn’t that entertaining in my perspective.
#12 TIE: Black and White AND Black and White 2 Screw it, I can’t decide.
Both are good similar games. One is more simple than the other, one has more moving parts in the mechanics. I like both aspects, both games has things I like and things I didn’t. It’s tough to pick one out of the other. So yeah. Great psychology games, tied for the 12th spot.
#11: Black and White Janggi
Finally we get to a strategy game after a string of psychological games. The whole concept is fairly simple: attack the enemy’s king. What drives me into liking this game is how deceivingly complex this game is. This game has SIX different characters, including king, queen, horse, tower, etc., all of them have different abilities to assist you. And what I love about the concept is that you have to think strategically each and every round. And MY GOD how nerve wrecking it is to watch the game is played… It’s something I love to watch but can’t imagine playing it myself due to how complex it is, which is why it barely misses off the top 10 unfortunately, even though I know this is a very popular game in the fanbase, ^{^so} pls don’t kill me...
#10: Black and White: Flip Flop Edition
TOP 10 BABY! WE’RE ENTERING THE GOOD STUFFS!!!
The objective of this game is that there are chips with white on one side and black on the other. And there are a lot of these chips, and you have to place them on the board. The objective is that, say, if your color is black, you have to have more black chips on the board than white, and OH MY GOD THE MECHANIC OF THIS GAMEEEE JSKFEHFKSEFEKSFH!!! Instead of just placing the pieces, if you place it on a certain position and there’s a nearby chip with your opponent’s color, you can FLIP those chips into your color. And I just think it’s pure genius of the producer (no pun intended). This write up alone doesn’t do this game justice, it’s absolutely fun to watch and play, would suggest someone make an actual board game out of this.
#9: Black and White GO!
I thought my number 11 entry was a complex game, until I saw this. Although for some reason I decided to put this thing way higher on the list, which is okay I guess.
I’m also not so sure about the rule of this game either… It involves rocks with the color black and white, obviously. Then you place them on the board in a way. Not gonna lie tho, the previous entry is way more enjoyable to watch.
But why I decided to put this higher is how much of a global phenomena it is at the time, when it first showed up in 2016. I tried to get into it either, but it keeps crashing on me for some reason. I knew it have a team system, you play it with your GPS and catch these monsters in the real world. Apparently now we can trade them, after I deleted the game from my phone. I hear Dahye from S2 is a professional player in this game, iirc? But yeah, it’s a good game which is why I put it where it is.
#8: Black or White – Michael Jackson
It’s a great bop with great meaning. I should’ve put it way higher, and someone said to me to separate art from the controversy, but the Finding Neverland thing, man. I just didn’t felt comfortable placing MJ on the top 3 after the controversy, even considering how well of a player she did in Society Game.
#7: Black and White (1999) dir. James Toback
Starring Robert Downey Jr. You can’t go wrong with pre Iron-man RDJ.
This race drama follows a group of white high schoolers who tried to make it big in a black crowd hip-hop group. I think this movie is innovative, it has great performance, and I literally never heard of this movie before searching “black and white” on Letterboxd…
#6: Double Stuffed Oreo
Someone prefers the cookie, others prefers the cream. I personally a cream guy myself, but I couldn’t imagine eating the cream all by itself. The cookie had it’s own in balancing the taste and texture. Which is why I did not pick the Mega Stuffed Oreo for this list as this variant of Oreo gives out the most balance: two pieces of cookie, two layers of cream. It’s just balances the whole thing out, because I want both parties to be happy.
#5: Skin (2018) dir. Guy Nattiv
EXTRA SPOLIER BANNER FOR THIS ONE
Winner of the 91st Academy Awards for Best Live Action Short Film. The same awards show who gives best picture nominations to Black Panther and Bohemian Rhapsody. If that doesn’t sell it to you, then I don’t know what will.
This race drama is tense, emotional, and heart breaking. And what sells me to put it as high in this list is the shocking, and totally not-ridiculous final sequence. In this movie, the main character who is a white supremacist gets tattooed black from head to toe as a punishment, then his son that he had trained to become a white supremacist shot him at the end because he thought he was a black guy.
I am not making that up, that is seriously what happened in that film.
#4: Mega Stuffed Oreo
SIKE! CREAM MASTER RACE!
#3: Winning Streak Game
Cue Extreme Ways
That is right I am using my ~~hidden immunity idol~~ token of immortality to safe this game from being last!
After thinking hard for about a year inside a remote mountain cave in Bhutan, I began to think how multi-dimensional this game really is! I just felt kinda bad putting this game up in last place. It have a certain degree of strategy, psychological, physical, philosophical, pharmaceutical aspect to it that I’ve never really noticed before making this damn list! And the fact that this game was played with very little to no props, it’s a way for the PD to invite us to play along. This is a game where everyone can play at a party. I think that’s mindblowing, that is really meta, I can’t describe it with words.
And yeah, that’s how I feel about this game. I just can’t find the right words to describe it! As much as I would write a whole journal of the certain degree of depths this game has, I just can’t put it in the words. And to think this is a debut for the death match creative team department, it is mindblowing…
#2: Temple of Fate from Endurance
Imagine this. You did not win the Temple Mission, but your biggest rival did. And as a result, you and your partner along with another team must go into the dreaded temple of faith. As the name suggest, Faith will decide who stays and who goes home. Not skill, or knowledge, or any abilities, but ~~RNG~~ faith. You have failed the physical aspect, or the social aspect, so now only faith will keep you in the game… or you could be bonkers in physical challenge and made a lot of friends but that one nerd wins the temple mission and picks you to go to the temple, so there’s that…
You walk along the stairs to the top of the temple, where host J.D Roth awaits you. In front of you are three cauldron filled with fire, water, and wood. Water beats fire, fire beats wood, wood beats water. You and your opponent picks one elements, and the team who picks the element that beats their opponent’s pick will get the point, best 2 out of 3 wins.
Similar to last entry, this game has a lot of complexity. Not only with the endless combination of which combination you make, they went an extra mile of building the arena in a remote location. Now that’s what I call going the extra mile! And the set isn’t just merely for decoration, I found that there’s a deeper meaning and symbolism to it, where most of the set was built in masonry (or at least resembles it) it resembled the perseverance these teams have gone through, so yeah, that’s just speaks something in me, which is why I placed it on the runner up postion…
(Also they seems to be rebooting the show, since there was a casting call for it under a different name so… HYPE!)
#1: Betting Rock Paper Scissors
No joke or anything. I was going to put this on number one when I started planning on doing the list in the first place.
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Phew, finally done. So yeah, I appreciate your feedback, thanks for reading, and stay tuned for my next list where I rank every furniture on The Genius set!

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Betting and Raising in Poker

YSK You can’t “see and raise” in poker betting. When you “see” that’s a flat call and any additional money you try to contribute would be a string bet and is against the rules. You can either “see” OR “raise”. But not both.

Patrik Antonius gets Angry about Ruling in Premier Poker League - String Bet?