Prepared

Khal sat across from the other four players, peering intently at his cards. Three dragons. The only thing hands that could beat this would be Four of a Kind, or a Family - three of a kind plus two of another. Khal needed to win. If he didn’t, there would be no more Skulldiggers. He was a young Orc, probably somewhere in his late teens, although he didn’t know his age, a fact true of most of the youth of Oldharbors, affectionately known as the Warehomes. It was an old part of the docks where ships used to unload their cargo but the water at Oldharbors was too shallow for the newer vessels so the new dock, Sunharbors, was built. Now, the only ships anchored here did so for unscrupulous reasons or, unfortunately, lived here. The old warehouses had become a good dumping place for what the Elves of the colony hub called the leftovers, or unwanted. The Warehomes had become the residences of beggars, thieves, cutthroats, the homeless, and orphans.

“Are you going to bet or not, Pug?”

Khal exposed his tusks, despite their tiny size. A healthy Orc of Khal’s age would have tusks that protruded two or three inches above their bottom lip. Khal’s tusks barely poked out above his lower lip. “Ah, come on, Pug, we have all been called worse.” The Ogre wasn’t wrong. Being a half-breed hadn’t made Nogo’s life easy. Half-Orcs weren’t accepted by Orcs and were often killed by humans. Although Khal’s life wasn’t exactly simple either. He had no Fraternity, meaning no social group would accept him, and humans would treat him much the same as Nogo. The only thing that allowed Nogo and Khal to move about Suedell was the tattoo on their foreheads, marking them as incorporated. How Khal had been incorporated was unknown to him, although he suspected that an Elf had felt guilty for slaying his parents and had brought him back as some sort of redemption. Nogo claimed that his other half was Elf, and although that could happen, it was highly unlikely. More likely, his mother had fled here while pregnant and concealed who had sired the growing babe. Supposedly, Nogo’s mother wanted to keep the child and how she planned to hide Nogo’s orc half was beyond Khal, but Nogo’s mother had died during labor. As soon as the doula saw what Nogo was, he was dumped in the Warehomes and had grown up much like Khal, at the grace of a stranger. Given the small numbers of those willing and able to care for the leftovers, so many adolescents are forced to join or create gangs so that they can survive.

Nogo opened his mouth, obviously getting frustrated with Khal’s procrastination, but Khal shut him up by sliding his bet across the table. It was a rat skull, with nine names scratched on it, similar to the skull placed by Nogo. “Fine, I will match you.” The other three players placed their cards on the table, having no interest in paying such a high price.

“You sure you don’t want to end this with fists?” Nogo’s smile was broad. He had no tusks but he did have a large, square face with a faint green tint to his flesh and a slight underbite. He was bigger than most humans, given his Orc heritage, but would have been smaller than Khal, if Khal was his age and had as much access to sustenance as Nogo and his gang, which controlled the North Dock street all the way up to the edge of Khal’s territory on Sandby street. Khal wanted control of the very gambling hall they were playing in, The Great Bastard. He would name it something else, but the name hadn’t come to him yet.

Khal fought hard to keep his face placid but was excited when he heard Nogo’s question. That had to be a good sign, and Khal wasn’t stupid. A fistfight with Nogo was the dumbest thing he could do, even if Khal was of equal age to Nogo, the Ogre’s experience was vast, and it was a well-known fact that Nogo didn’t go easy in a fight. “You ready?” Khal decided he had no interest in answering Nogo. The Orc swallowed audibly as Nogo put down his cards, he couldn’t control his reaction. Khal slapped down his cards, “My three dragons beat your three griffons!” The signal was given, Khal wasn’t stupid, he knew Nogo wasn’t going to play fair.

The Ogre played directly into Khal’s deception as he jumped to his feet. Nogo already had his brass knuckles on and the blow was quick. Far quicker than Khal had expected pain shattered into the side of his face. Blood and some of his teeth splattered across the rickety old wood that served as the table’s surface. Khal barely heard the twang, as he had expected, Nogo had quickly forgotten about the other three players in his rage. Three players that Nogo had thought were nothing more than smugglers or pirates. Nogo stared down at the two quarrels that stuck out from his forearm and bicep, finding it hard to turn his neck. His left hand reached up with a feeble grasp, finding the third quarrel deep in his neck. “You sneaky…” was all Nogo managed to gargle as one of the Skulldiggers who had played the part of a stranger bent to help his boss up.

“I won,” Khal managed to stammer. “Do I still got my tusks?” Khal asked, his knees shakily propping up his dazed body. Laughing as he found the answer to his own question, he gingerly touched his fingers to his lips. “I know what we will call her,” Khal announced, looking around the establishment. “Treasure Tusk!”