The Olympian Goal

[Mystic]

Next to the barraks of the Defenders of Olympia stands a formidibal stone structure. The rough grey stone walls surrounding the building stand 20' high, with shards of broken glass cemented into the top. The wall is broken by a set of heavy iron gates, locked and bolted from the inside. Knocking on these gates causes them to open, squeeling on rusty hinges they swing inwards.

Once past these gates, you are greeted by a second set of heavy gates and a large gruff looking giant. As the gates clang shut behind you the giant, standing at 12' tall, glowers down at you from within the nest of scruffy black hair that coveres the lower half of his face, his stormy grey eyes never leaving your face. You can see that his head has been shaved and a thick scar runs across his forehead. He wears a red tunic beneath a breastplate stamped with the Olympian seal and black breeches. At his side hands a two handed broad sword.

"Leave your weapons there." He pointed with one massive finger to a wooden crate by his side.
"All of them mind, or you'll spend the night in the lock up."
His voice was low and rough and the way he was looking at you left no doubt in yoru mind that he meant every word, and that it wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

Once you shed your weapons into the crate, the giant pushes open the second set of gates and motions you in. Once through these gates you find yourself within a medium sized, neat stone room. The air is full of the scent of the fresh saw dust that covers the floor. At the far end of the room are two heavy iron doors and one wooden one. The two iron doors have grills in them at eye level and three heavy locks above an iron wood bar. A wooden desk sits at one side of the room, a heavily muscled short human woman sits behind it. She too is wearing a ted tunic beneath a stamped breastplate and black breeches. Her blond hair is cut short, falling just below her ears, and held back with a red head scarf. She looks up as you enter, her brown eyes hard. She has the look of someone expecting trouble.

She puts down the quill she was writing with and moves the papers she was working on to one side.
"Serale." Her voice is scratchy and harsh. "What buissness do you have with the Olympian Gaol?"