From the personal journal of Llew Silverhand…

     Festivals, tournaments, feasts, whatever you call them, they’re all the same. The crowds gather to be entertained, food vendors sell their somewhat questionable wares, people try their hand at various games of skill or chance or luck. Luck. Never believed in such foolishness. Too often good luck is given credit when it rightfully belongs to training, or cunning, or a well played con. Bad luck is blamed, in turn, for lack thereof, on carelessness, or over playing your hand. 
     Just look at them all. Cheering their favorites, stuffing their faces. Placing wagers on who can knock who off a log with a bit of a stick. All the while not noticing a few coins missing here, a purse there. A ring slides off a finger after a firm handshake and a slap on the back. Such baubles and trinkets are not missed whilst there’s entertainment to be had, food to be eaten, wine and mead to be shared in the revelry. Prizes will be awarded, cheers and more mead and ale. But who are the real winners here? 
   “Your purse is gone?! Family crest signet missing too?! Your wife’s jewels?! Ahh, bad luck friend…”

Brigand, part-time juggler, aspiring silversmith.

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