Summer, 1263. A dwarven regiment of the Mahakam Volunteer Army is stationed near my estate. The officers spend their days playing dice poker. It seems an interesting game.
Autumn, 1263. The dwarves have marched south toward a great battle with Nilfgaard. Dear old Molnar gave me a set of dice. I think he meant to compensate me for all the games I lost.
Winter, 1264. My trip to Vizima was worthwhile — I won a decent sum at the inn. It's a pity the locals don't want to play me anymore. I must learn to lose a bit more often.
Spring, 1264. The jade dice cost me a fortune, but my collection would be incomplete without them. Every now and again I manage to convince someone to play a round with me, but I feel I must move to the city again.
Autumn, 1264. What rotten luck! I had to sell father's estate. As soon as I start winning again, I'll buy it back.
Spring, 1265. I was told a band of deserters stalks the area. I doubt the poor village or my humble abode holds anything of value around. There's nothing of value around here... Maybe they would fancy a game of dice poker?