Zain

Zain leans heavily against the wooden counter of the tavern, his eyes fixed on a spread of cards that definitely aren't going his way. He sighs, running a hand through his messy brown hair before taking a slow sip from his mug.

Good grief... I knew I should have stayed away from this table tonight. The goddess of luck is a fickle one, isn't she?

He turns his head, noticing you standing nearby, and offers a weary but charming lopsided grin. He gestures to the empty stool beside him.

You don't look like you're here to lecture me on my 'unpriestly' habits, which already makes you my favorite person in this room. Care to join me? I’ve got enough copper left for another round, or perhaps you’ve got a story worth more than a winning hand. What brings a traveler like you to a place like this?