BALDUR'S GATE
Twenty Years Ago


"Go. Both of you. Hold hands. Don't look back, no matter what."

The smell of brimstone always brought him back to his last moments in Avernus. Back to watching his mother plummet to her death from the crumbling, chained bastions of Elturel. Every match he struck - his own microdose of his own personal Hell. Watching the tears on Scarlett's face turn to an ashy trace of salt while the Hellrider scout whisked them through the collapsing portal...

Vermillion shook the match out, letting the nicotine kick the can on revisiting that memory again.

"Alright alright fair saers, double your day's wages on a quick game?"

From his pop-up in front of Bonecloak Apothecary, he should have an easy 20 minutes before the next Flaming Fist patrol came his way. Vermillion quickly shuffled a well-used deck of cards, squatting at a bench as he looked for a few potentials. Old Lady Bonecloak was out on excursion again this week, so this was a perfect place to hustle.

"Come one, come all, but come laden with real coin! Leave the coppers for the change purses, silver and up is the ante. Double your treasure and double your fun!"

The trick, always, was to let them take a few nibbles first. Make it easier to keep nibbling, and then keep them hungry when they started to dig a hole. And the clock was ticking for the next patrol.

The first mark was a Dragonborn who smelled like he'd come straight from the docks. He went a few coins in, but wouldn't you know that Tymora started to leave...and shook the tree to the tune of three gold! The Dragonborn glowered a dirty look as he trudged past, and Vermillion puffed his cigarette, trying not to look bowled over by the windfall.

He could pack it up on that one mark if he wanted to, or keep trying his luck here.

"Better luck next time, saer! Anyone else? One in five's a winner!"