Editing Star Krakens (legacy) (section)

====Rolling Krakens====

There was a clatter, followed almost instantly by a slam. The two more. Slam, slam, slam. Three objects impacted against the metal, and the tension in the atmosphere cracked up another notch. Creaks issued through the air as the objects were shifted and the things they contained were examined. For a few seconds, no-one spoke. Then a voice issued out.

“Three threes”

“Raise, four threes”

“Six fours”

“Hmm... seven fours”

“I call that, you fool”

With those words, the three figures that sat around the metal table raised their leather cups from the surface. Under the cups were ebony dice, five apiece, with small black spots marking the numbers, all except one. Each die had its one represented artfully by a twisting Kraken image, startlingly black on the bleached white. The players all glared at their opponents dice, and the one who had spoken most recently tossed his cup away and cursed. There were only six fours evident among the fifteen dice.

“By the depths, I thought I had you there Gêrôr, I really did”

“Hah, you’ll have to get up earlier than that to out bluff me, Harjek. Hand it over”

The marine named Harjek sighed, and tossed a die over to the gloating Gêrôr. Once again, the three marines raised the leather cups and shock them vigorously, before slamming them onto the table and examining their own dice. Gêrôr started again, casually letting his eyes skim across the six dice under his cup. Then he made his bid.

“Five fives”

“Step carefully, bold one. Six fives”

“Your one to talk. I call that”

Delmore wore a wolfish grin, while Gêrôr was yet to lose the serene, unreadable expression he employed while his dice were down. Harjek kept up his facade of brash confidence for a few second, until the dice were once again revealed. His were the only sixes, bringing their number to only four. With a grunt, he pushed a die to the third marine at the table. His battle brother’s grin widened still further at his ill grace.

“Cheer up ‘Jek, not everyone can understand the laws of probability. At least you can shoot a bolter. Granted, you never hit anything, but you always work out how to pull the trigger”

Harjek, who was an excellent marksman, wagged a finger at Delmore.

“We’ll just see about that. Again”

And so the game continued. Known as liar’s dice, the game was a popular way of killing time and gaining bragging rights amongst the fourth company. It was all about making calculated guesses on the results of the dice, based on the ones you could see and the bids your opponents had made. The astartes held almost everything in common, so the games were mostly played for honour. Sometimes small trophies or trinkets would change hands, or one astartes would wager a favour to another. 

In many space marine chapters, either free time is non-existent or leisure activities are frowned upon. In the Star Krakens, time between battles could stretch from weeks to months and sometimes even to years. Patrolling the deep was hard without sensory equipment, and it took a long time to locate an enemy. Every marine was mindful to keep their skills sharp and their gear well treated, but there is a limit to how many times you can clean a bolter before you’re just wasting polish. The same was true of training or the discussion of tactics. The longer the marines were away from a battle, the more free time they were allowed, to a maximum of about an hour a day. 

Now Gêrôr had almost all the dice under his cup, with Delmore retaining a single cube and Harjek’s cup completely empty. Gêrôr was yet to lose a game to the other two, and they were beginning to focus entirely on stealing dice from their irritatingly calm brother. It never seemed to work though. He would give nothing away, his manner and face held completely rigid, until every dice was his. Then he would let a smug, self satisfied smile slide across his face as he separated the dice back into the separate cups. 

If there was time, he generally offered another game, but today they had already played through their allowance of time. It was time for another seven hours of training, followed by the cleaning of their armour and weapons. Marines never grumbled about their training or intense schedules, for they enjoyed the simulated battle as much as the games. The only complaints you would hear from a Star Kraken would be about how long it had been since they had tasted the heady thrill of battle, except in the fourth company. Occasionally, one of the battle brothers would comment on the obviously fractured command structure, and the way most meetings of the three points ended with either Nymar or Olavi storming out. All was not well aboard The Trident, but perhaps things were about to change. Prey had just been sighted...