The main doors were set into an archway that writhed with the carven images of serpents in a pair of trees.  Inside, the halls were somber and quiet and seemed to be made to draw the unwary astray and lose them.  Brom guided her swiftly along one of them and into a sitting room where an old man looked up to greet them.<br/><br/>The man nodded to them as they entered.  He was gaunt, with thin hair and long fingers made clawlike from age.  His face was sunken, eyes and cheeks shadowy hollows as his skin stretched over his skull like some grotesque puppet made of flesh or perhaps one of the horrific walking dead Felicity had heard tales of.  He stood before the fireplace, which cast more shadows than light it seemed.  When he turned and stepped forward however, there was no weakness to his movements.  "So your hunt was fruitful," he said to Brom as he reached forward to run one withered hand shamelessly down Felicity's neck to cup and test one breast's firmness.<br/><br/>"Yes father, it was.  This is Felicity."