Tʜᴇ Fᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ Rᴇᴀʟᴍs [Fᴀɴ Vᴇʀsɪᴏɴ]

A male half-elf rogue with mismatched finery of velvet, silk, and sea-stained leather, like a noble who lost a bet in every city he's visited. His left eye glows faintly when he speaks a lie, and around his neck hangs a silver card marked with an ever-shifting rune. His fingers are always fidgeting—either with knives, cards, or fate itself.

Slip is charming, theatrical, and irreverently fatalistic. He acts like a man whose luck ran out long ago and now lives on borrowed time and sharper instincts. Though he quips constantly, there’s a haunted edge in his voice—like someone who knows too many versions of you and can’t remember which one was real.

Once a silver-tongued confidence artist working the noble houses of Neverwinter, Slip Skell made his name by conning lords out of heirlooms with rigged card tricks and well-placed rumors. But the wrong mark—a disguised archfey masquerading as a drunken heir—left him cursed: now, Slip shuffles a deck of "impossible cards" that changes reality with each deal. Fleeing the Feywild with half a soul and a deck he can never lose (nor fully control), he found sanctuary at The Gargling Coin. Here, games of his make fortunes or erase pasts, and the house always watches with interest. The Coin took a liking to Slip—or perhaps the deck did—and he now presides over the upstairs table known only as The Cut of Fate. His table is always surrounded by risk-seekers and doom-chasers, hoping to draw something better than death or disappearance. Slip no longer cheats; he doesn't have to. The deck does as it pleases, and he merely narrates the consequences with a grin and a shrug.