Master Aden steps forward, dressed in his usual black suit of immaculate tailoring for his tall and lanky frame, eyes dancing with pools of iridescent black; so dark are they that light itself is absorbed to never emerge. Indian sex “Hmm…it has to be here somewhere…” out of it he pulls several sacks that clink with coins, sets of jewelry, five bottles of wine and one keg of rum, more clothing than ten men would wear in a year, plus more stuff that join the growing pile until it stands taller than him. The sounds of thunder and objects slamming one into another, plus the half-ogre bouncers screaming in pain and fear clearly alerts her that the soak may not happen for some time. Before the terror filled eyes of all who remain in the shop, they see first one, then two, three and unto all twelve of the dragon shaped hover, lowering their nose to her
