The prayers endlessly fall, like melting diamonds dripping through a gap, trying to make amends with the gods. The wheels turn and the dice tumble in an eternal, unpredictable roll. The high straight follows with a last-gasp plea sobbed into a pillow.
Yet another silver needle makes the journey easier, and every player in the game at times must surely wonder if it is nothing more than a rigged game, and if the last bus has gone with even just one empty seat.
The rules for the strong and are the same as the ones for the weak, and the ones for the rich, the same as the ones for the poor. But when the cackle of the static grows louder and the whirring camera pictures blur, there is only the Faith or
the Law to choose from.
Picture: Geralt
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