There’s a certain mysticism to the rolling dice. It’s a strange, almost ritual feeling, as you shuffle them in your hand. Then, as the bones hit the hard wooden surface – the sound is like nothing else. It’s akin to crackling flames, or a storm behind a window. It connects you, in some way, to those who lived here before. It brings you back across time, to the days of crowded taverns and bustling bazaars. You can almost imagine sitting across a table from some merchant from faraway lands, or a soldier, returned after long campaigns.