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Dark Days in Sion - Act 3: Scene 1
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<blockquote data-quote="narayan" data-source="post: 6852347" data-attributes="member: 6677509"><p><strong>Aletia, Kayote, Rhea</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><em><strong>Rhea:</strong> Nods. <span style="color: #660066">"Thank you, be warned, my father isn't especially gracious these days."</span> She says, leading you past the bar to a set of double-doors adjacent to the back doors. (The bouncer that intercepted you is usually posted here) The doors open into a meeting room with a long table that seats six and a stairwell that leads up. (The bouncer that intercepted you waits at the bottom of the stairs as you follow Rhea up) At the top of the stairs is a lantern in a sconce illuminating three doors. Rhea pauses, sighs, and knocks at the door immediately to the right.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><img src="http://i1345.photobucket.com/albums/p662/crowsontheskulls/World%20of%20Sion/Places/The%20Red%20Sands%20Inn%20Upper%20Floor.png~original" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Moments pass before a hoarse and gravely voice barks through the door. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Mr. Burlock:</strong> <span style="color: #660000">"Yes?"</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Rhea:</strong> <span style="color: #660066">"It's me father. A friend of Vallio's is here to see you."</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The door opens revealing an elderly Barossan male with a generally sallowish and scruffy appearance.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Mr. Burlock peers past his daughter to stare at the newcomer. You estimate his age to be mid-sixties. His eyes are bright blue in the Barossan fashion, but none too kind, glaring beneath bushy, white-once-blonde brows. His blonde/grey hair is a scraggly mess, similar to Rhea's at least in how curly it is. Mr. Burlock's cheeks are fuzzy with a few days growth of wiry beard that he absently scratches at as he sizes you up. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Mr Burlock is draped in a fur-lined robe for warmth over merchant's garb. A masterwork short sword and <a href="https://sion.obsidianportal.com/wikis/barossan-broadsword" target="_blank">Barossan Broadsword</a> are tucked into his belt. His fingers are bejeweled with rings of silver, platinum and gold while a heavy locket hangs from a chain of alternating silver, platinum and golden links around his neck. His breathing is deep and labored as he says. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Mr. Burlock:</strong> <span style="color: #660000">"...Friend of Vallio's you say..."</span> He mutters in a hollow, raspish voice, roughened by age and illness alike. <span style="color: #660000">"We'll see about that. Bring her in!"</span> He orders, stepping back into his chambers. Mr. Burlock has a big frame with heavy steps. A couple decades ago he might have been formidable in both size and strength, but his muscle tone has softened and his skin sags and wrinkles. Only his gnarled hands, big and bony, remain strong as leans upon a tall cane crafted from the salvaged shaft of some kind of spear. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Mr Burlock's chambers are well-furnished and decadent, featuring expensive rugs, tapestries, paintings and furs. A well-traveled, exotic theme persists throughout his decorations... mostly in the forms of maps, leather-bound journals and taxidermy of rare and deadly creatures (including the skulls of dire-jackals). His living area has a large hearth in one corner, above which is an actual dragons paw, claws spread, scaled in shades of golden-red-and-brown; chained to the stones of the chimney. Were it still attached to the beast it belonged to the paw is large enough to grasp you whole and crush you like a worm. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Three cats stare at you from various corners of the room. One grey, one black and one orange. Mr. Burlock pokes at the black cat with his cane as he makes his way over to one of the high-backed chairs before the flames of the hearth. That's when you notice the old skull of what looks like a hobgoblin on the side table. The morbid relic resembles several other such trophies placed randomly on shelves or stuffed into various nooks and crannies, some of which still bear some tufts of skin and hair... gruesome indeed, intimate of a man who's likely lost some of his senses. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Mr. Burlock:</strong> Leans over and drops his blades to the floor before he scoops up the orange cat off his chair which meowls grumpily as he sits and plops it on his lap. <span style="color: #660000">"Hush!"</span> He mutters to the feline, patting its ears. <span style="color: #660000">"So where is that wanderer Vallio? Don't tell me he's too busy to pay his old friend Kayote a visit!"</span> He exclaims reaching for a berelle of Tejj, the famously strong honey-spiced wine of the local people.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Meanwhile, Rhea swallows, standing stiffly with her hands at her back, waiting for you to deliver the sad news.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>[Aletia:</strong> What do you do?<strong>]</strong></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="narayan, post: 6852347, member: 6677509"] [b]Aletia, Kayote, Rhea[/b] [I][B]Rhea:[/B] Nods. [COLOR=#660066]"Thank you, be warned, my father isn't especially gracious these days."[/COLOR] She says, leading you past the bar to a set of double-doors adjacent to the back doors. (The bouncer that intercepted you is usually posted here) The doors open into a meeting room with a long table that seats six and a stairwell that leads up. (The bouncer that intercepted you waits at the bottom of the stairs as you follow Rhea up) At the top of the stairs is a lantern in a sconce illuminating three doors. Rhea pauses, sighs, and knocks at the door immediately to the right. [IMG]http://i1345.photobucket.com/albums/p662/crowsontheskulls/World%20of%20Sion/Places/The%20Red%20Sands%20Inn%20Upper%20Floor.png~original[/IMG] Moments pass before a hoarse and gravely voice barks through the door. [B]Mr. Burlock:[/B] [COLOR=#660000]"Yes?"[/COLOR] [B]Rhea:[/B] [COLOR=#660066]"It's me father. A friend of Vallio's is here to see you."[/COLOR] The door opens revealing an elderly Barossan male with a generally sallowish and scruffy appearance. Mr. Burlock peers past his daughter to stare at the newcomer. You estimate his age to be mid-sixties. His eyes are bright blue in the Barossan fashion, but none too kind, glaring beneath bushy, white-once-blonde brows. His blonde/grey hair is a scraggly mess, similar to Rhea's at least in how curly it is. Mr. Burlock's cheeks are fuzzy with a few days growth of wiry beard that he absently scratches at as he sizes you up. Mr Burlock is draped in a fur-lined robe for warmth over merchant's garb. A masterwork short sword and [URL="https://sion.obsidianportal.com/wikis/barossan-broadsword"]Barossan Broadsword[/URL] are tucked into his belt. His fingers are bejeweled with rings of silver, platinum and gold while a heavy locket hangs from a chain of alternating silver, platinum and golden links around his neck. His breathing is deep and labored as he says. [B]Mr. Burlock:[/B] [COLOR=#660000]"...Friend of Vallio's you say..."[/COLOR] He mutters in a hollow, raspish voice, roughened by age and illness alike. [COLOR=#660000]"We'll see about that. Bring her in!"[/COLOR] He orders, stepping back into his chambers. Mr. Burlock has a big frame with heavy steps. A couple decades ago he might have been formidable in both size and strength, but his muscle tone has softened and his skin sags and wrinkles. Only his gnarled hands, big and bony, remain strong as leans upon a tall cane crafted from the salvaged shaft of some kind of spear. Mr Burlock's chambers are well-furnished and decadent, featuring expensive rugs, tapestries, paintings and furs. A well-traveled, exotic theme persists throughout his decorations... mostly in the forms of maps, leather-bound journals and taxidermy of rare and deadly creatures (including the skulls of dire-jackals). His living area has a large hearth in one corner, above which is an actual dragons paw, claws spread, scaled in shades of golden-red-and-brown; chained to the stones of the chimney. Were it still attached to the beast it belonged to the paw is large enough to grasp you whole and crush you like a worm. Three cats stare at you from various corners of the room. One grey, one black and one orange. Mr. Burlock pokes at the black cat with his cane as he makes his way over to one of the high-backed chairs before the flames of the hearth. That's when you notice the old skull of what looks like a hobgoblin on the side table. The morbid relic resembles several other such trophies placed randomly on shelves or stuffed into various nooks and crannies, some of which still bear some tufts of skin and hair... gruesome indeed, intimate of a man who's likely lost some of his senses. [B]Mr. Burlock:[/B] Leans over and drops his blades to the floor before he scoops up the orange cat off his chair which meowls grumpily as he sits and plops it on his lap. [COLOR=#660000]"Hush!"[/COLOR] He mutters to the feline, patting its ears. [COLOR=#660000]"So where is that wanderer Vallio? Don't tell me he's too busy to pay his old friend Kayote a visit!"[/COLOR] He exclaims reaching for a berelle of Tejj, the famously strong honey-spiced wine of the local people. Meanwhile, Rhea swallows, standing stiffly with her hands at her back, waiting for you to deliver the sad news. [B][Aletia:[/B] What do you do?[B]][/B][/I] [/QUOTE]
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