After one or two wrong turns, Jack had found his way to the pub. As he walked in the door, he was a bit surprised that the place wasn’t busier. Perhaps he had the wrong place?
But perhaps he wasn’t. There were a few goblins in the joint. That was a good sign. Goblins loved money after all. But Jack Roller hadn’t come this far in life without knowing that asking Goblins to make a bet was like asking for your fingers to get chopped off. No. Thank. You.
He sidled up the bar. ”Beer me,” he asked the bartender as he leaned on the counter. Where were all the witches and wizards in this joint? |