A warm summer zephyr passed through the stadium as The Acolytes opened fresh bottles of crisp cider. The setting sun painted golden stripes across the floor and a sense of peace, along with the scent of dumplings, overcame them. After long months, or was it years? In any case, time was meaningless now. After their efforts studying, translating, spreading the word, the Acolytes decided they were in need of some recreation.
They fashioned a table from a flat stone, covered in soft, green moss and fetched the Holy Pork Rinds from the kitchen.
As they discarded the joker cards from the pack, one Acolyte looked to the other with a sly grin, a raised eyebrow and said, "Show me your poker face."