There wasn’t much to go off of when it came to Julius. Liking “games” was vague— there were so many different types of games in the world! So how do you pick the right one?
It was a massive sack filled with different games, from chess boards, to packs of cards to children’s games with felt puppets and pieces. How could anyone afford this!?
You’d think they could afford something better to put it in than a burlap sack.
The first thing that comes to mind when Julius steps outside and nearly stumbles over the burlap bag left before his door is the old folk tale from his homeland about the red elf and his magical never-ending sack of presents. His heart begins to race and his eyes light up before the reality of the dark, cold Abyss with its covetous eyes dampens his glowing excitement and he scolds himself for even entertaining the idea. Nevertheless, he wraps his fingers around the neck of the bag and drags it into his room. Whomever it belonged to, whoever had left it, it would be his now. At least until he rummaged through its contents and decided if they were even worth keeping.
He half-expects something scandalous - banned books, anti-church propaganda, or counterfeit goods someone needed to get rid of in a hurry. But what he pulls out instead are… board games. The first is a war strategy game neatly packaged inside a wooden box, and Julius gives it a perplexed shake to listen to the pieces rattle around inside. The next, a chess set. He tosses it over his shoulder. Third and fourth are similarly boxed games, neither of which he recognizes, and again he tosses them both onto the ever-growing pile. By now, he realizes that there’s nothing else inside the sack EXCEPT various games, but he keeps digging anyway.
So this was the product of that silly little form he filled out on a whim. The secret exchange or whatever it was that Oberon had approached him about. Someone dropped something off for him after all.
Julius sits back on his heels and examines the stack of games and the now-deflated burlap sack lying beside it. He supposes he could sell them for a gold piece or two, keep the ones designed to play solo, but insist all the while that his time was better spent on less childish things (a fact growing increasingly less true the longer he spent idling in Abyss).
He hums thoughtfully, then snatches up the bag.
“Is this yours?” Julius sneers when he finds Patty above ground, and holds the bag out to her. He knows her by reputation alone, and the whining Manfroy’s mages had done after she turned the treasury of their Yied hideout upside down. At the time, it had been wildly entertaining news, but now Julius suspects that her fingers might be stickier than he believed from the account of a handful of morons.
“Generous of you to leave your bag with me. I know how your kind so dearly love to not spend gold, and as I understand it, this is a thief’s best friend.” He smiles contemptuously and tosses the bag at her feet. “But I’m generous enough to return it.”
