So We Met In A Tavern.

Its Just Business

"Oye! Ben Cove!" He says. "You lookin' for bingo? Or looking to bite for bits?"

It was a line he used on many prospects, and in general, when opening up to his real business, the one behind the door of his bar.

Frederick Degrey was seen by all of Mirkwood as the man that ran The Sober Dwarf tavern and inn.

It served as a front for the thieves guild, but the bar, even his wife, weren't really real to him.

"I ain't Ben Cove!, but a gentleman, looking to be a made man." Was the response. Ulric stuck out his hand across the well-worn bar between them.

Frederick took it and looked at the brand on his hand. A brand made by a jailer that thieves get to warn others after they have been caught.

"I see you earned your badge." Frederick says.

Ulric nodded. "I've seen the jugglers box in my younger years, but my days of angling are done." He smiles.

"What is it you're asking for then?" The barkeep asks.

"I've got some green beer for you." Ulric reaches into a pouch on his belt and sets a rather large emerald on the bar between them. Its clarity is impeccable, even to the untrained eye. This piece is flawless. Only a dwarf or an elf had the skill set to craft it.

Frederick quickly throws a bar towel over it to conceal it. "I've not that amount of Plat here... you'll have to give me a few days."

Ulric laughs. "No, my friend!" His grin wide and contagious. "It's a gift."

This time, Frederick chuckles. "And what did I do to earn such a lavish gift?"

Ulric looks at the barkeep. "I need jukrum...and this will be just the first of many earnest payments if you know how to get it for me."

"I know how to get it....in fact I have the authority to give it." Frederick said.

Jukrum was permission. Ulric spent a good part of his life scraping by in petty thievery, hired as a hitman at times, or even stood in as a hired alibi for other criminals.

Not too long ago, he awoke one morning, sat at the edge of his bed, joints tight and muscles sore, and realized his body was catching up to his age. The gray in his hair didn't help matters much either.

It was time to gamble everything for something better. He wasn't getting any younger, and delusions of grandeur had escaped his mind a year ago.

He sold everything he had stolen and saved and put it into stealing an emerald. He tracked down and bribed anyone he could, and while there were other names, Frederick's came up the most. He knew he ranked high enough in the guild and made his way to Mirkwood.

"And where are you from?" Frederick asked, already knowing the answer.
Word thru channels got back that a lesser known was looking for him.

"Ravenhurst, thats where I'd like to do business." He said.

"And what kind of business are you running?" He asked. "Brothel?...gambling house?"

He shook his head. "No... a fighting pit. And not just between men, but beasts too. I have trainers and fighters lined up."

"You're not going to be able to do it in any town...thats too big of an operation to keep secret." Frederick says.

"Steton, and it's not too far away. The loggers there aren't going to mind at all." He suggests.

"It's not going to work." Frederick says.

Ulric smile fades. He's put everything into this moment, and now he's being told no. He thinks perhaps if he travels beyond the borders of Romeda he can start someplace new. He knows that operating outside of the guilds say so is to invite death from the shadows. He's too old to take that risk, and needs a real opportunity here to make his life better. His mind now has to do the work, so he places his hand on the towel.