(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

win."
~~~~~
I was getting quite sick of being bounced between bar patrons like an idiot.
What really topped it all off was the fact that this Dallan didn't even seem to
be paying attention to me. No, his eyes were on the woman in his arms, with
short-cropped hair, bodice and skirt the same drab mustard-yellow. She was
pretty enough, I suppose, but even as I stood quietly, staring them down
until they would look at me, the pair simply stared into each other's eyes
and giggled stupidly.
Dallan finally gave me a glance. He had stern blue eyes and shoulder-length
black hair. Whatever he looked at seemed to smolder under his gaze. "I'm
Dallan. You're looking for a Key," he said with a large smile.
"That's right. What do I have to do for it this time?"
"It's simplicity itself. One of the city leaders is having a bit of... political
difficulty, shall we say. One of his enemies on the city council is causing him
some trouble. Go talk to him about it and see what you can do to help him
out. His name is An'izius - he's a githyanki, and you'll find him near the gate
to Carceri in the center of town."
Dak'kon's gaze hardened.
"Is he a friend of yours? Are you looking for a particular outcome to this?"
Dallan's smirk grew wider. "Let's just say that I trust to your discretion. You'll
see what I mean."
~~~~~
An'izius circled around the Carceri Gate. He was sallow-skinned, thin of face
and mean of eye, stalking deliberately. I could practically smell his rage.
"What do you want?" he snarled, looking up to me.
Dak'kon's gaze was hard as steel and twice as sharp, "We are to help a
githyanki? What draws him here, away from the song of blood woven by his
brothers?"
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