Would it honestly matter if he won or lost here ? No, not quite. For despite the perceived importance one might accord to the game, it is, at the end of the day, just that : A game. Cards of little value thrown upon their excuse of a table. Who will remember that game, a week later ? A month, a solar year ? No one, most likely. But... There was something to it. The presence that each of them are occupying here, around their fair position. Some are laughing, some seem exasperated, others are simply too deeply focussed. The occasional word comes up, lamenting after one's play or congratulating themselves. Ephemerial as it is... It somehow brings joy.

Hagar himself ? He had little care for how he played the game, for what mattered was the moment. His plays were made with neither reason nor strategy, simply throwing card upon card, not affording any care to whether or not he would be victorious. Of course, that method gave him a lamentable track record. Never, not once, has he earned victory onto his hands. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I think I got a Lion here. That good ?"

Haphazardly, Hagar throws one of his cards onto the seat of their game, revealing upon it one of the primarchs, Lion 'El Jonson. Quite an impressive man he was, from what Hagar's heard. Instrumental he used to be to the Emperor's success, and one of the greatest duelists of his siblings, should we believe the legend. A legend it was, alas : For it is likely that Hagar will never get to lay eyes upon such a legendary figure. And if he ever did... Oh, well, father Nurgle's embrace would only come much sooner.