As before, the dragon’s lair leaves much to be desired in the aesthetics department, at least from the outside, which is bare, rude, and worn down from years of neglect. The odd street person, drawn and grey, shuffles by, but the street itself is rather quiet.
Shyan flags down a man with a bristly, greying beard, and for a moment, she’s stunned by his similarity to Fassn, who’s staring absently at a weathered poster in a language he can’t read.
“Know anything about the people here?” Shyan asks the old man, who’s startled to be approached by such an odd contingent. When he grasps Shyan’s question, his eyes bulge with fright and he shakes his head in tight motions before hurrying off, clutching his fraying robes.
Logan Bright — Works 