"Gods?" Inala purposefully expressed cluelessness to the vocabulary used by Rattac.
"It'll be better for me to explain it." A voice of authority resounded as an old man descended through the flight of stairs leading from the second floor. He sported a beard that reached his stomach, shaped like a whisk.
His face was riddled with wrinkles but his hair was an even greater mess, sporting a myriad of colours. Almost every string of hair was a shade of its own, possibly due to the influence stemming from regular consumption of Nectar.
His back had a mild arch but his body was ripped to the extreme, a bulky individual with footsteps loud enough to cause thuds. He stared at Inala and extended his hand for a shake, "I'm Pettenac, Lord of this City."
"I'm Inala," Inala introduced himself and stared expectantly.
