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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Douane" data-source="post: 906902" data-attributes="member: 157">In the ensuing silence even the slight creak of the door sounds like thunder. When you look up, expecting to finally see Mr. Johnson, a sigh almost escapes your lips. If that is Mr Johnson, Corp budgets seem to gone way down. The man entering the room looks to be in his mid-fourties (at least) and nothing at all like a slick corporate operator. In addition to his brown trousers he wears a bright green shirt and suspenders decorated with shamrocks. While he is not exactly a small man, his muscular build seems more to be due hard work, not a sign of combat training. At least he doesn't move like that. The man looks more like one of those old-fashioned barkeepers; in fact when you muster him more closely as he closes the door behind him and locks it, this man could be very well the barkeep of the pub itself.Sigh! The man moves closer, holding his hands out in a apologizing gesture (or to show that he doesn't hold a gun).When he sees your 'less than welcome' faces, he clears his throat and begins to speak:"I'm very sorry about this all. I know this ain't the usual way people like you do business; this will surely have made a somewhat strange impression on you.Truth is, I've never had anything to do with you shadow folks, and had hoped to let it stay that way.Unfortunately, I need help and I need it right now. Also it has to come from people with 'special' talents, so I put out the call to some friends of mine. Since you have come here, I suppose you are the ones thought right for this job by those who can judge such things....Oh, I almost forgot. I'm Daniel O'Flaherty, the proprietor of this pub. Nice to meet 'cha!", he finishes, holding his hand out to you.You hear some pretty unusual sounds from the outside of the room. Sounds almost like some kind of scuffle going on there.</blockquote>

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