Game of Stones: A Song of Dice and Ire
by Jake Jacobs
14 June 2016
Jon looked at the position, looked at the cubes lined up in front of him, looked at his opponent's icy blue eyes.
The Box had won the last three games, coming back from the dead each time; Jon was young, but had heard of runs that lasted years.
Maybe winter was coming?
He was the Captain, and it was up to him to act first.
"We could dance, but at the moment our board is better, and if we come in on the 5pt... I look at this," Jon turned to his teammates, "and I see six dire beavers, one for each of us." He beavered, and so did his mates, acknowledging his leadership.
Blue Eyes rolled a 41 and covered his ace. "Don't burn me, boy!"
"What do they call me? What's my nickname? What am I known for rolling? Yes!" As double-fives settled on the board. "That's why they call me ‘Jon Snowflakes'."
"You bastard," his opponent hissed.
But Jon knew it took more than that to kill an opponent in this chouette. Ever since his father had sent him to the chouette near the Wall, at the back of the club, he was learning the grown up game. It might be remote from the center of action, but a man could be gammoned as easily as in any other chouette.
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