Jared is cool. I hope he doesn’t die…
MoronicMnemonic
If he dies, we riot!!!
HollowHeartsClub
If he dies, I’m doing more than that. Think about it. He killed off Corva. If he kills off Jared, that means he’s only ever targeted the older and more experienced NPCs. It’s ageism.
If Jared dies, I’m filing a grievance with the AARP for senior abuse.
UnhelpfullyHelpful
Gonna start calling Z3ke DiCaprio. As soon as someone ages past 26 he trades them in for a newer model.
Saltmines
Hey Zeke, I’ve got a complaint. This is the second time that you’ve ranked up Performance, but you haven’t explained anything about how it feels. We got all this info about Instrument Mastery and Persona, but nothing on Performance.
You’re holding out on us, man.
TVEye
Yea. I noticed that too. I’ve got so many questions about it.
Is Performance always on when you’re surrounded by people? Do you need to consciously activate it? Does it grow stronger the more people are near? What does it feel to be supernaturally good at performing?
StoryLeech
Sigh.
Zeke. Zeke. Zeke. Watchu doing here, man? We’ve got Mushroom and 7 doing logistical miracles to keep you alive in the Under-MIZ and guide you to all the different loot spots, and you’re out here ranking up skills without giving us info.
Have you no shame? Have you no decency? All you do is take take take, and you leave us only crumbs.
Z3ke (Original Poster)
In my defense…it doesn’t really feel like anything. I’m not trying to be cagey. I genuinely can’t describe how Performance feels because there’s nothing obvious to latch onto when it happens.
Instrument Mastery is obviously magical. I mean, I’m not casting spells or shooting lasers from my eyes, but I can feel that it’s magical. It’s like someone dumped a bunch of muscle memory into my body. My hands know what to do and there’s no learning curve or hesitation. I just…do.
Persona is equally noticeable because it’s like a supernatural calm settles over me. If you’ve ever waited tables or been behind a bar, you’d know the term “being in the weeds.”
You’re panicking because there’s twenty people all yelling at you and they all want something different. You’ve got to change the keg and restock the bottled beer and take orders from regulars who just showed up and someone wants you to make five mojitos for a bunch of drunken elderly ladies all complaining about how their kids never visit. Your brain locks up and you’re frazzled and your body is stuttering and you don’t know where to start and all your mistakes just snowball and the only thing you wanna do is lock yourself in the walk-in and hope it all works out without you.
That’s what it feels like to be in the weeds. Now, I haven’t had that feeling in a long ass time because I’m just that good as a bartender. But back when I was first learning, whenever shit hit the fan I always recited this one mantra: slow is smooth and smooth is fast.
If you calm down and do things right the first time and methodically work the problem, everything will be fine.
Persona is kinda like having that mantra running constantly in the background. Except, so much more intense. A calm settles over me and my breathing steadies. My heart stops pounding and I no longer feel the need to retch or panic. I can think clearly and react without losing control.
It doesn’t make me emotionless or anything. It’s more like everything is regulated and I’m able to function without freaking out.
But Performance doesn’t feel like either one of those two. I don’t even feel when it activates. There’s no surge of emotion and no calm and no physical sensation I can point to and say “yep, that’s the skill kicking in.” If you asked me to turn it on right now and perform, I honestly wouldn’t know how. I don’t know where the switch is.
Shootingblnks
Hmmm. Would it help if you tried thinking back to all the times that triggered the rank ups? You can figure out what was going on and how you felt.
Z3ke (Original Poster)
Yeaaa, probably not. I’m not even sure the rank ups came from a single big moment rather than a bunch of smaller ones.
The first time I got a Performance rank was with Milicent when we were at the Anchor Guild and I was lying to her about Raiders of the Lost Ark being my backstory. The second time was when I was doing a speech-to-text explanation for all you.
Neither one had me feeling anything different. I didn’t get new memories or talents or anything. It’s honestly kinda feeling like I got screwed with this class skill.
MushroomCleric
Can you tell when Performance influences people at least?
Oh shit…can you influence people through the forum? Are we all being subtly manipulated by your supernatural charisma right now?
ZEKE!!! STOP INFLUENCING US!!!1
Saltmines
Everyone, think horrible thoughts about Zeke to break the spells.
Jokes aside…that kind of sucks for you. You’ve got this skill that you can’t feel, control, or identify when it’s active. It’s going to make grinding it that much harder.
TwoGirlsOneCuphead
Continue with the story good man. Tell us how you’re finding the Holdfast.
Z3ke (Original Poster)
There’s not much more to tell. We’re stuck here waiting for someone to collect us.
We’re at a hotel, but calling it a “hotel” is being generous. It’s functional, and that’s the best that can be said about it.
The furniture in our rooms is utilitarian and mismatched and it’s obvious that it was all scavenged from the flooded neighborhoods. There’s a bed and a couch in my room, and to their credit both of them are dry. But I’m about ninety percent sure that at least the couch spent a bunch of time underwater at some point in its life. I really don’t want to sit on it.
The “hotel” we’re in is the definition of controlled hospitality. The guards stuffed us in here and then told us to stay. The lady that runs this place is nice, but she’s not all that talkative. The air is damp and out my window is the muted, constant noise of the Holdfast itself. I actually find it pretty soothing.
Jared and Daryl are sharing a room down the hall from me, and Milicent claimed her own. According to Milicent, who’s interacted with the Holdfast in the past, we’re supposed to just sit around until someone comes to get us. Jared agreed with her and said it was a pretty normal thing done in the Holdfast to new visitors. Apparently they want to keep their visitors in neat, manageable boxes until they decide what to do with them.
I’m fine with it. After marching through the Under-MIZ and fighting the splitmaws and getting attacked by those scavengers, having a door that locks and a bed I can relax on is pretty peaceful. This forced downtime is probably good for me. I didn’t realize how tightly wound I was when we descended into the Flooded Neighborhoods, and this forced relaxation is calming me down a bit.
My room’s got a small balcony that looks out over the rest of the city. It’s not a great view or anything, but it’s nice. Nothing much is happening, so I’m just sitting until someone comes to get us.
While I’m here, do you all have any suggestions for what I should do? Am I safe here in the Holdfast? And, how am I supposed to get a map to the Fossilized Factory Belt? That’s the next stop on my trip to the research black sites, so is there some kind of vendor or someone I can trade with down here?
7Spirals
It seems like you’re going to have to wait until someone picks you up and tells you where to go. If you tell them that you want to get a map, they should be able to help you out.
That being said, you really shouldn’t stick around in the Holdfast for too long. When Crush, Mushroom and I were working through this plan, the idea was for you to make a beeline to the Holdfast, quickly trade for a map into the Fossilized Factory Belt, and then sprint your ass there. The Flooded Neighborhoods isn’t really a spot you want to hang out in.
Z3ke (Original Poster)
Why not? I mean, despite the damp air and the fact that I might get mold on my lungs if I’m here for a couple days, the place doesn’t seem too bad.
MushroomCleric
It’s not a bad place. It’s more that the Flooded Neighborhoods are much more dangerous than you are right now.
There are four regions in the Under-MIZ, and they each have their own dangers.
The Crushed Skirt was dangerous because of the scavenger teams. Sure, there were splitmaws that you had to fight. But you handled them pretty easily and were on your way. The true danger was that group that followed you up to the top of the Bethashba Tower and tried to gank you. But as long as you stay away from the other scavenger teams, the risk in the Crushed Skirt is relatively minimal. Not EVERY team is out to hunt you.
The Fossilized Factory Belt can be dangerous, and that’s why we all had arguments about what you should do there. I suggested that you should just sprint your way through to get to the research sites.
The black sites and the research sites and all that, that’s only dangerous because of the Reclaimer. Other than that single monster - which we’ve got a plan for you to kill him without too much fuss - there shouldn’t be anything around that should challenge you or your group.
It’s the Flooded Neighborhoods which are actually the most dangerous. Crush wanted you to pick some fights there, but 7 and I talked him out of it. The danger in the Flooded Neighborhoods is all the creatures that are hanging out in the water. They’re so much worse than anything that you’ve faced so far.
CrushDaddyXx (PRIMARY)
Yeaaaa…I wanted you to throw some hands and punch some creatures. But Mushroom and 7 were right when they said you aren’t ready for that. Now, if you want to go out and cause some violence I wouldn’t be angry.
But I would suggest otherwise.
You’re doing good Zeke. I liked how you Jackie Chan’d a guy out the window.
UnhelpfullyHelpful
He didn’t really Jackie Chan someone. That would have required him to try and protect a vase while telling the scavengers that he didn’t want any trouble.
He “This is Sparta”’d the guy out the window.
Z3ke (Original Poster)
…
Z3ke (Original Poster)
Oh, what the shit is this? How did I get a warning for that?! All I did was put down three dots as a form of silent displeasure at what had been posted.
CrushDaddyXx (PRIMARY)
Oh. Yea. The mods don’t like it when you just give one word answers in your post. You also can’t just post a single gif as a reaction either.
You gotta start learning these rules Zeke. I don’t want you getting banned again and dying in the middle of the Under-MIZ because we weren’t around to help you out.
***
Z3ke (Original Poster)
I was sitting on my bed, growing hungry and half-expecting either Jared or Milicent to come to my room and ask what we were doing for dinner. It was getting late and I was wondering if the Holdfast guards had just forgotten about us. What would they do if we left the hotel to hunt down some food? I mean, they couldn’t just keep us here until we starved, right?
I was about to go and gather my team when there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, instead of finding Jared or Milicent, I instead came face to face with a very well put-together man standing in the hallway.
He was dressed in a blue linen button-up and dark khakis. It wasn’t anything flashy, but the look of his clothes still screamed wealth. There were two guards in the hall with him, pretending not to eavesdrop on the conversation while they peered down the hall.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The man smiled and held out a hand. “You must be the new visitors. Welcome. I’m Omar Nadir, the mayor of the Holdfast. I hope you’re settling in alright.”
“Uh, Zeke,” I said as I shook his hand. “And, uh, yea. The hotel’s nice.”
His eyes flicked past me to take in the room. He eyed the scavenged furniture and the balcony door that I’d cracked open to let the damp air circulate.
“I thought you might like to talk somewhere less…confined,” he said politely. “Dinner, perhaps? My treat.”
It was phrased like an invitation, but a single glance at the guards near the man told me it was clearly not optional. I nodded and we went to collect the rest of the team.
The restaurant the mayor took us to was deeper inside the Holdfast, away from the louder and more industrial sections of the city that we’d passed earlier. The lighting was warm and there were real wooden tables and actual glassware instead of the dented metal cups that I’d grown used to in The MIZ and at the Roaring Drake.
I’ll admit that I was a little nervous at the start of the dinner. With how we’d been unceremoniously shoved inside a crappy hotel, along with how the guards hovered nearby, a part of me was convinced that we were about to be disappeared. Or maybe we’d be tossed into a dingy back room and interrogated before being “strongly encouraged” to leave the city.
Instead, we just had dinner.
The food arrived and was filling and honestly better than anything I’d eaten in days. Persona kicked in the moment I really looked at the plate, and I decided to interpret that as my brain telling me not to think too hard about where the ingredients came from.
The mayor was…charismatic. He kept the conversation flowing and somehow made it all feel natural and put us at ease. With Jared he talked about how the Holdfast had grown since Jared’s last visit. With Milicent, he talked about organizations and leadership and how difficult it was to keep everyone on the same page. He said he used to handle logistics for the city before getting elected, so he knew what Milicent was forced to deal with when trying to guide the PretWynn family.
With me, he talked about the Holdfast itself and how it was built, how it adapted to the flooding, and all the compromises that had kept it alive. He clearly knew that I found the entire place fascinating and he leaned into that.
Eventually, he steered the conversation to us and why we were there.
“So,” he said lightly as he folded his hands on the table. “Zeke. You don’t strike me as someone who would arrive here by accident. And yet you showed up with a mixed group, no trade caravan, and a reputation that traveled faster than you did.”
I blinked at that. “Reputation? I have a reputation?”
He chuckled. “Of course. There’s talk of a new team that was put together to delve into the Under-MIZ. They showed up at the Anchor Guild only a few hours after setting off, and they dropped more salvage than two established teams would normally pull in over a year.”
I took a sip of water that the mayor had assured me was safe, and quietly regretted every decision I’d ever made. I knew what happened at the Anchor Guild was going to come back to bite me in the ass.
“More interestingly,” he continued. “I was told that you carried all that salvage by yourself, without any carts involved.”
I nodded and sighed, realizing there was no point in pretending otherwise. I pulled my journal from my dimensional storage space and set it on the table. “It’s a talent of mine. Not transferable though.”
The mayor nodded, as if confirming something that he’d already suspected.
“And what do you hope to gain from the Holdfast while you’re here?”
“Information. I’m looking for maps. Specifically ones that could guide us to the Fossilized Factory Belt.”
His eyebrows rose at that as he leaned back in his chair and studied me. “That’s an ambitious destination.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“And you were told that the Holdfast would have maps capable of guiding you there?”
I had the distinct feeling that he was probing for who told me that. He was probably trying to figure out if I was backed by anyone. I pushed the forum firmly out of my thoughts and answered. “Yes.”
He snorted. “Well, we do. Or rather…we have some. Maps beyond the Flooded Neighborhoods are rare and often incomplete. The intact ones are difficult and expensive to acquire. No one gives them away for free.”
“I wouldn’t expect them to,” I said.
“Good. Because unlike the Anchor Guild or vendors in The MIZ, we don’t care about the impressive or interesting. We only care about the useful. And I believe that you can be incredibly useful to the Holdfast.”
“How so?” I asked, a little wary about what he wanted.
“Well,” he leaned forward. “The Holdfast is expanding. We don’t want to rely on a single city down here in the Flooded Neighborhoods, and some of our people want to go out and stretch their legs. So, we’re establishing smaller villages on the outskirts. They’ll be far enough away that those who don’t want to live in the Holdfast have somewhere to go, but close enough that they still remain part of our community.”
I nodded along to let him know I was following.
“To get those neighborhoods up and running, we’ll need to move a ton of supplies. It can be heavy and awkward moving everything through the Flooded Neighborhoods. Sending those supplies by cart would be a slow, obvious, open invitation to the local wildlife to tear the carts apart. But someone with the ability to store that equipment and carry it over rough terrain? That changes things.”
By now, the rest of the team was watching the mayor try to sell me on the idea of being a pack mule for the Holdfast.
“If you agree to take the equipment and store it in your…unique space, and then deliver it to the village, I can help you. I’ll make sure that you receive a map to the Fossilized Factory Belt.”
I hesitated. “And the risk?”
He smiled. “You won’t be alone. You’ll be escorted by a veritable army of Holdfast guards.”
He smiled at that, and the smile told me that the guards would be providing oversight just as much as protection. I definitely wouldn’t be left alone with all the equipment meant for the villages.
It was an offer for exactly what I needed - a map to the next section of the Under-MIZ - but something about it felt off. Surely there was someone in the Holdfast who’d be willing to sell me the map. I really didn’t want to spend too long in the Flooded Neighborhoods, even with the mayor’s assurance that I would be safe.
I asked if I could think on it, and he smiled and nodded and told me to take the night.
So, yea. What do you all think? Should I take the job? Or do you all have a better idea?
MapHackJunkie
I don’t like it. Being escorted by a “veritable army” sounds great, but the creatures out in the Flooded Neighborhood are no joke. Numbers don’t mean much to the danger you’d be facing. Plus, there’s no real assurance that the guards would be able to keep you safe.
10161066
Agreed. This job feels like the mayor offloading risk to you because you’re convenient. If everything goes okay…okay. But if something goes wrong - and there is a lot that can go wrong in the Flooded Neighborhoods - then the Holdfast loses equipment but you’d end up dead.
The trade feels lopsided as hell.
ChairmanMeow
I want to point out that if you agree to work for the city, you’d get an in with the mayor. It’d be useful. And useful people get asked to do more useful things.
If you wanted to just hang out in the Under-MIZ for a while and boost your skills, this would be the way to do it. Run some supplies out to the neighborhoods and get well paid for it.
ShivSays
Yea. You’d basically be getting the map to the FFB without paying credits, favors, or long-term obligations. One delivery and you’d get something valuable. That’s not a terrible trade. It’s risky, sure, but so is everything else in the Under-MIZ.
CrushDaddyXx (PRIMARY)
Hey Zeke, as your official Primary, I have made a decree: do what you think is best.
I know you thought I’d tell you to head out there and start throwing hands, but while I think it would be pretty cool for you to hunt some of the local wildlife, I’ve already agreed with Mushroom and 7 that you shouldn’t spend too much time there.
Also, this would be the chance to drop any hidden lore about the Flooded Neighborhoods that you’ve got. Not saying you do, but here’s the option.
I’ll also say that, this is a chance for you to head into a dangerous section of the Under-MIZ with backup. Plus you’d be getting paid with info. That’s a lot more valuable than credits right now.
7Spirals
You’re all thinking way too hard about this. Zeke, don’t haul supplies. GAMBLE FOR IT!!!
Z3ke (Original Poster)
Uh…what?
Also, asfasdhfa. Hey Grave, is that enough words that I won’t get a warning?
StoryLeech
I’m starting to like snarky Zeke.
7Spirals
One of the only reasons to head to the Holdfast for most players is that there’s a gambling hall there. There’s a ton of games you can play, ranging from dice to chance wheels to cards. But there is ONE game that is so much better than the rest. And that game is called SPINE AND FLOOD.
The reason that you need to know about that game is that it’s been solved. There’s a guide floating around here somewhere, and it teaches you how to break the game. If you know what you’re doing, you can walk into the gambling hall and win an absurd amount of credits. I’m talking about enough credits that, after a while, the managers of the gambling hall will politely but firmly tell you that you need to get the hell out of there and never come back.
MushroomCleric
OOO. Infinite money glitch with the Spine and Flood. I like it. Zeke, you should bet the mayor tomorrow. Don’t gamble for credits. Bet the map. Here’s the guide:
7Spirals
Zeke. Propose a wager with the mayor where you get one night at the tables for the map. If you win (which you will as long as you follow the guide) then you don’t have to do the delivery job. If you lose, then you do the job but still get the map.
But you’re not going to lose.
***
Z3ke (Original Poster)
I was halfway awake when the knock came and I was guessing it was the mayor trying to find out my answer to his request. The guy had no chill. When I opened the door, the Holdfast guard that had guided us to the “hotel” stood there.
“The mayor requests your presence,” he said.
I gathered up my crew and we set out. Jared looked annoyed, Daryl was already awake, and Milicent looked like she’d expected this all along. I told them what I planned to suggest as we walked, and to my surprise none of them tried to talk me out of it. Jared actually smiled at it.
“Let’s see if you’re as lucky with games as you are with loot,” said Milicent.
The mayor met us in his office, bright eyed and bushy tailed and I had to wonder if the man had slept at all. When I explained my idea, all casual-like as if it had just occurred to me, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.
“A wager for the map,” he repeated.
“Yes,” I said. “Some friends told me about a gambling hall here in the Holdfast. Said it was absolutely amazing.”
He laughed at that. “Oh, our gambling hall is famous. And you want to test it?”
He thought about it for a moment, his eyes scanning me and weighing me. Finally, he nodded and stood from his chair to cross the room. There was a heavy safe built into his office wall and he spun the dial, opened it, and pulled out a lacquered case.
Inside the case were thick, carved tokens that were etched with symbols that I didn’t recognize. They were casino chips. He handed a stack to me and smiled.
“Double these. If you do, the map is yours. If you don’t, you take the job. Fair?”
“Fair.”
The mayor guided us to the gambling hall which was far from the walkways and the guard checkpoints. You could hear it before you saw it. There was so much noise; a low roar of voices and laughter and shouting and despair.
We stepped into the gambling hall and I was immediately transported back to the first time I’d ever entered a casino. The air was filled with smoke and sweat and people shouting and losing money. Glowing lichen crept across the walls in tangled vines, casting a sickly green-blue light over everything. Lanterns hung from iron hooks on the walls, adding a little bit of light to see by.
The place was packed. There were guards who were off duty and locals and traders and everything in between. People were gathered in clumps around table games. In the corner was a pit that was dug deep into the ground, and people hovered over it and shouted down at the people there. It had to be a fighting pit, and I saw Daryl look over at it with interest.
I finally found what I was looking for in the center of the gambling hall. It was like gravity was heaviest there and had drawn everyone into an orbit around a single board. Spine and Flood. I made a beeline towards it and the mayor saw my interest and smiled.
“Spine and Flood. Interesting game you’ve chosen. Do you know the history behind it?” he asked.
I shook my head. That wasn’t in the pdf that you all gave me and I’d spent all of last night reading through.
“Back when the Fracture had first hit and the Flooded Neighborhoods were…well, flooding. There was a single raised road that led from all the outlying neighborhoods to what would eventually be known as the Holdfast.” The mayor was able to navigate us through the crowd around the table. People flowed around him and, when he was noticed, a small hole opened up next to the table where we could stand.
“The residents from the Flooded Neighborhood had to flee from their homes, and raced to make it to the Holdfast and to safety. But the floods were getting worse and worse. And they claimed a lot of the residents. Too many.”
When I got next to the board I looked down and took it all in. There was a table carved from a single slab of dark stone, polished smooth by generations of hands. At its center was a vertical channel with seven carved slots. Each slot represented a tier in the game, and there was a small metal marker that was currently on the second tier.
“The point of the game is to get the marker from the first tier all the way to the end. To safety,” said the mayor as he smiled down at the board. I knew all the rules to the game, thanks to that pdf.
The marker started at the first tier and moved up or down the Spine as the game progressed. Beside the board was a wide basin filled with polished tokens, called flood tokens. They were drawn blindly by the dealer (also called the Anchor) and there were three types: clear, murky, and black. Clear was safe. Murky was neutral. And Black was a loss.
Players bet whether the marker would rise, hold, or sink. Rise meant the marker went up, hold meant the marker stayed where it was, and sink meant the marker went down.
With each round, the player placed their chips on their bet of rise, hold, or sink. Once the flood token was drawn, it would shift where the marker was on the spine. Clear would move it up a tier, murky would keep it there, and black meant it went down a tier. The payouts of the game scaled based on the current Spine position. The higher the spine marker, the better the odds. And if the Spine marker hit the top, the house would payout a bonus. But if it sunk completely, then all the bets were lost and the round reset.
The pdf I was given said that there was a very simple strategy to winning. There were a set amount of tokens in the basin: 10 clear, 8 murky, and 6 black tokens. The tokens were returned after each round. Someone figured out that once the marker reached tier 4 or higher on the Spine, the optimal play was to always bet on rise. Losses were recoverable and wins compounded faster.
Do NOT bet early. Let the other players raise the spine. You want a tier 4 minimum before you touch anything. Ignore what the other plates are doing and don’t get sucked into the whole hot-streak/cold-streak of gambling addicts. You’re playing with math, not superstition or luck. Only the spine position matters. At tier 4, you need to place a moderate bet on Rise. At tier 5 or higher, you increase your bet size. If it drops to tier 3, you stop immediately and wait again. NEVER bet on sink. Sink is for desperate people and idiots. Don’t react emotionally. If you bet correctly, you can’t lose.
That was the advice from the forum. That was the advice that was going to lead me to winning the map.
The “Anchor” looked at the mayor and me as we stepped up to the table.
“Buy-in?”
I placed the chips the mayor handed me onto the table and the anchor nodded. The mayor took a seat beside me while I stood standing, just watching as the game started.
The forum’s advice was to not get sucked into the gambling and only bet when the marker was on tier 4 of the spine. So I didn’t bet.
Everyone around me did though. Chips slid forward and hands trembled and my eyes were drawn to two men seated at the far end of the table. Their eyes were hollow and their faces drawn tight. When I noticed their bet was on “sink,” I smiled at the forum’s advice of only losers bet on sink.
The dealer called an end to all bets and drew a token. Clear. The table erupted with cheers and groans and the marker climbed to tier 3. The mayor called out to a woman wandering around and ordered two drinks for us, then he joined in on the celebrations. He clapped and smiled and slapped the back of the guy next to him who’d bet on rise.
A few more rounds passed. The spine dipped and rose and dipped again. Every draw brought a new wave of emotion that crashed across the table. I stayed still and ignored the noise until finally the marker slid up to tier four and I placed my first bet.
Rise. The mayor clapped me on the shoulder and wished me luck. Bets were tossed to the table and everyone held their breath. The anchor drew from the basin.
Clear. A cheer burst out of me before I could stop it. I’d been suckered into the emotion of the table and I smiled at everyone. The forum’s plan was working. I felt light and buoyant, like I’d just stepped onto a moving walkway that was headed exactly where I wanted to go.
The forum was right. I was about to make a shit ton of money and get the map to the Fossilized Factory Belt. We’d rush out of the Flooded Neighborhoods and away from all that stagnant water that was hiding god-knows-what.
I bet again, increasing the size of the bet, just like the guide said. There was a flurry of activity around me. People tossed down their chips. The desperate fools at the end of the table bet on sink once again, and I just shook my head at that.
The anchor’s hand dipped into the basin and drew out a token. Black. The marker sank back to tier four and the table groaned. The mayor winced sympathetically with me and all the other gamblers.
“Bad draw,” he said as he shook his head.
But that was okay. The guide said that could happen. Losses were recoverable. That was all part of the system. As long as I followed what the forum said, I’d end up ahead for the day.
Even with the guide though, I hesitated with my next bet. The mood of the table was starting to turn and I was getting a bad feeling. A few people around me refused to bet this time, saying that the table was about to cool down. But then I remembered the guide telling me not to pay attention to vibes and superstition and luck. Trust in the math.
The mayor glanced at the chips in my hand and then looked up at me.
“Second thoughts?” he asked.
“No,” I sighed as I placed my chips on rise.
The anchor called for an end to bets and he reached into the basin. I didn’t even need to see the token that he pulled out. I heard it with all the groans coming from the table. Black. The Spine marker slid back to tier three and I almost stepped away from the table.
The mayor accepted two drinks and handed me one and we just sat there and watched the table and the gamblers around us. The desperate men at the end of the table were laughing now, riding a streak that meant nothing in the long-term but everything to them in the moment.
There were a few more rounds of bets with the spine staying in place or climbing one spot only to sink again. The Spine marker eventually climbed up to four and, finally, back to five. I didn’t want to bet when it hit tier 4. Something stayed my hand, not wanting to lose all the chips the mayor had given me. I didn’t want to lose my chance at the map.
But when the Spine hit five, I bet big. The mayor leaned forward and clapped with the rest of the table when the anchor called an end to all bets and then dipped his hand into the basin. I watched and…something felt off.
The anchor withdrew a token. Black and the Spine marker dropped back to four. My stomach twisted as I watched the dealer claim my chips. I only had enough for two more bets. The marker was at four and the guide had assured me that was when I should start betting. I knew I was due a run of good luck. I had to be, right?
I stepped back again and just watched the action of the table. After a few more rounds of betting the mark moved back up to tier 5. The mayor was next to me, watching the table without any real interest. The other players around me were cheering and getting into it.
Finally, I placed my chips on rise. Exactly as the guide told me to. I watched as the anchor reached into the basin. And that’s when I saw it. His wrist tilted slightly, just enough that the top layers of tokens had slid aside and the bottom layer became reachable. He pulled out the next token and I immediately knew what it would be.
Black. The spine fell back to tier 4 and I watched as the anchor claimed my bet. The other gamblers around me groaned. They’d been on a winning streak that had just been cut short. I glanced over at the mayor and he gave me a shrug.
“Bad luck.”
I pursed my lips and sighed. I knew what would happen. It didn’t matter which bet I made. I placed my last few chips on rise and looked at the mayor. The anchor called for an end to all bets and the mayor met my eyes.
“Looks like I’ll be taking that delivery job after all,” I said. I could feel Persona kick in, keeping my voice neutral and not angry.
The mayor smiled. The anchor reached into the basin and withdrew a black token. The marker sank back to tier 3 and all my chips were gone.
We stepped away from the table and the mayor guided us away from the table and towards a bar that was in the corner of the gambling house. When we were seated, and a glass of whisky was placed in front of me, the mayor gave me a grin and leaned in.
“So, let’s talk about how much you can store with that dimensional storage space.”