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Many in the Lower Boroughs call the slums their home, but few would have the gall to name it their kingdom. Sometimes ally and sometimes enemy of the most powerful crime families, Theodoric Ulbran has managed to carve himself a feared and respected throne among the local ne'er-do-wells. Recruiting and extorting the undesirables of the world, and responsible for numerous protection rackets, even the nobility hesitate to bring him in. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't. Besides, he keeps a tight grasp on his more volatile thugs, so the well-bribed Iron Guard and Inquisition often turn a blind eye to any less agreeable dealings. As the understanding goes, without him, many deadly criminals would be left unleashed to run havoc across the city of Arx. He built his underground empire from the frequently unhinged cast-offs of society, those that even the Culler family might rebuke. Shavs and Abandoned in search of a new home frequently arrive in Arx, where Theodoric welcomes them with open arms, before using them for his multifaceted ends. All this made possible from sheer devious insight and a too-clever tongue, as his diminutive figure hardly lends itself well to the brawn of pitched brawls. A forgotten orphan discarded at the doorstep of 'The Tragedy,' he had to survive hand to mouth for much of his childhood. By his teens, the discrepancy between his height and those of his peers became painfully apparent, and he was forced to learn to use his wits over his muscles if he didn't want to starve. Upon persuading a group of urchins to let him join and then lead them, he slowly built his future domain one criminal at a time.

Combined with a heavily sun-kissed complexion, a light smattering of old scars gives this burly dwarf a certain roguish attractiveness. His high widow's peak styles straight shoulder-length hair, hued an inky shade of well-refined charcoal. The dark ends of a thick mustache become lost in the great scraggly forest of his beard, often cordoned off by golden beads into numerous dreadlocks. The solid tone of deep almond brown eyes have surely never been veiled by rose-colored glasses, oozing an unflinching confidence and powerful practicality. When he speaks, his voice is like polished stone, its harshness smoothed away into a rough yet strikingly appealing timbre.

Survive and thrive. That's Theod's motto. Another one: don't get mad, get even. A perfect gentleman by all outward accounts, certainly while under noble scrutiny, he weaves through conversations as easily as a snake slithers through the grass. A bottomless pit of confidence, there is little he won't do to get what he wants. Around the more common folk, he's known as a hedonist and an occasional tyrant, though the latter is practically essential in order to secure a firm control over dangerous felons. Whether the chivalrous man of refinement or the ruthless crime baron, few if any know the true Theod at his core.