"Oh, it's you again. Are you looking for a die?"

"You were the one who asked for a cursed die," she points out.

"I guess I'll keep the die then."

"Good luck, officer," she says with a mischievous smile, before turning back to her table.

"Can I get a normal version of this die? One that isn't modified to land on a single result?"

"No, I don't have another die. You'll have to do with this one."

"It matters as long as we're alive."

"I guess you can find some temporary solace in that, yes."

"Can I get a normal version of this die? One that isn't modified to land on a single result?"

"Still, thanks for the die."

"As long as there is mankind, there is also meaning."

"Yes, but how will mankind last?"

"Don't answer that, actually. Meaning is whatever you want to make of it. That's the nature of meaning."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the die."

"What a relief."

"It is, isn't it? There's something liberating about knowing it's just we humans, no all powerful forces guiding us, watching us, judging us."

"That's so depressing."

"Thanks, I'll keep it."

"This is mega cool, but can I get one that actually works?"

"Sorry, I don't have another one ready. You were the one who asked for a cursed die."

"No, you're a malignant Entity. A die-crafting witch."

"So now I'm a witch too. Rhymes well with the whole me-being-a-culprit theme."

"So you confess?"

"Sure!" She laughs. "Now can the Entity explain what your cursed die does?"

"Yes, I've got my warpaint protecting me from the evil." (Point to your face.)

"Oh, now I'm evil, too -- lovely."

"Yes, it's better to know how the evil works."

"No, I don't want to know, it's too dangerous."

"Too bad, I'm going to tell you anyway."

"I am nothing if not consistent."

"Fantastic. Can the witch Entity tell you what the cursed die does then?"

"I'm not scared, I just don't feel like rolling it."

"I've already learned about horrors like pale and I can't take any further risks."

"You're right," she simmers down. "The pale is terrible indeed. But I didn't curse the die. I don't believe in curses."

"There are definitely dark-magiks."

"Not in this die, rest assured. It isn't cursed. I can tell you what it does."

Cast the cursed die.

You throw the ball on the floor and it ends with one of the phrases facing upwards: 'god is indifferent'.

She looks at the result. "Good. Now roll again, detective."

Roll the die again.

It lands on exactly the same result -- god is indifferent it declares again.

"I don't want to roll again."

"Why?" Neha starts laughing. "You're not scared, officer, are you?"

"I'm not a witch, mister, and neither is this die cursed," she assures you. "We live in a rational world -- there is no black magic."

"This is not a die."

"Here's your amber die," the dicemaker opens her desk drawer and hands you a die the colour of dark syrup.

Look at it.

There appears to be a small fly embedded within. It's like looking into a lost little world...

"Okay. I'd like to order a die from you."

"I'm sorry. I'm a bit overloaded just now so I can only produce one die per customer."

"Of course," she nods -- this is what she's here for. "Tell me what you have in mind."

"Actually, I need more time to think about it."

"No need to rush. Take a look around, see if anything inspires you." She nods towards the shelves full of precious stones.

"Do you know the Wirrâl Untethered setting? I want a die for that."

"Ah, yes, Fortress Accident." She shakes her head lightly. "It's too bad they never finished their game..."

"The Wirrâl Untethered die is a variation of a standard role-playing die, only instead of plants it uses motifs of ice and death. And loss, of course."

Ice... death... loss... sounds like you.

"I'm thinking something made from alligator jawbone, cast in black resin. The reptile bone is as white as ice and dead as... well... death," she smiles. "For seven reál I could have it ready in eight hours."

"Hm... I should maybe get a different one." (Back off.)

"Maybe you have some other ideas for dice?"

"It's a deal." (Order the die.)