Keith Edward English, Wordsmith

     Gax was a pragmatic orc. And in a world where coin served a man, woman, or creature better than any sword, he made sure to keep his wallet healthy. Occasionally this meant doing things of questionable merit. Hence why he was sitting in a tavern in Beshek with his meaty hand drunkenly reaching for an empty mug only to knock it to the floor. 

     The two human women, the stout dwarf with an impressive beard – though also a woman – and the elf male seated around the table glared at Gax as he apologized profusely and bent down to grab the tankard. His head collided with the side of the table hard enough to knock over towers of coins and slosh ale out of mugs. The players looked down at their stashes and moved their cards away from the splattering drink. 

     Gax’s green-skinned hand deftly slipped inside his unlaced boot and fished out one card while replacing it with another. He raised himself up and smacked the underside of the table with the back of his head, this time without intentionally doing so.