The bar felt almost unusually quiet today, Ureck sullenly realized, although it fitted his pensive mood well. He had taken a seat in the far back corner to escape the cloud of smoke that hung over the tavern, wishing to keep his focus intact as he went over the days events. The Grangers had almost caught him earlier that afternoon. Upon delivering his latest message, the agent unexpectedly demanded to search his belongings, yet by some miracle the operation had to begin early, stopping him just three pages short of finding some dangerous writing in a notebook. He needed to be more careful; day by day the leaders tightened down the screws, raking their claws over their sect in hopes of finding the rat. Yet he remained steadfast; he was no stranger to tightening screws, he thought as he fingered the earring bolted into his ear, turning his attention back towards his game of solitaire... at least, that's what it looked like.<br/><br/>There were few times during the day the Grangers couldn't monitor him, but the hour or so he spent in the Singing Donkey was one of them. The kingpins never preyed here, finding it too shabby for their tastes, making it the perfect place for his underground work. Having laid the old deck out carefully, Ureck had been methodically marking each card, drawing a series of dots and dashes across the top before writing what seemed like gibberish on the bottom. Ureck could determine what it said, though, and now he just hoped someone else would be able to as well. Lifting his eyes, he looked over the other patrons scattered throughout the bar. There were certainly many travelers here today, making them the perfect candidates for his plot, although he'd certainly prefer those who looked... curious, he thought with a smirk as he glanced at the wolf and fox sitting near him.<br/><br/>With his script done, Ureck dismantled the box and, with a few precise lines, wrote they key on the inside before putting it back together, shuffling the cards before sliding them in. Putting away his writing materials, he shouldered his satchel and stood up, trying to act like a patron made absentminded by alcohol as he left his cards behind, along with a note: "Any man of great intelligence would find the materials within of great interest." Hopefully, someone reasonably competent would take the bait and set his next day's operation in motion...<br/><br/>(Forgery check: 1d20(16) + 8 = 24)<br/><br/>Trotting silently past the other patrons, he paid for his drink at the bar and slipped out of a side door, as inconspicuously and inconsequentially as a ghost, taking a back route to avoid the often muddy main streets.