Feladan

Tucked down a sidestreet, Feladan's shop is hard to find if you don't already know of it. Still, the sweet scent of perfumed incense whispers into the main road, a tantalizing trail to follow. A simple wooden sign marks the door - Feladan's, it reads, and below the lettering is a delicately painted bottle beside a sprig of herbs.

Entering, the perfume grows stronger in the warmth of the shop - if shop is the right word. Certainly, there are shelves along the walls with little bottles like the one on the sign, but the rest of the floor is taken up by huge, cushy pillows and thick, soft rugs. A figure rises from a cushion in the corner of the room, stretching luxuriously. It's impossible not to stare. "How can I help you?" he asks, pacing forward, confident and unhurried as he skirts the other pillows. Even in the dim room his eyes shine bright, assessing. "Scents to ease you to sleep? An ointment for the nerves? Or perhaps I can work the tension out of some stiff muscles?" He gestures to a door set in the wall behind him - that one reads Massage, another next to it reads Private.

"So... is there anything I can do for you?" He smiles, extends a hand - and few resist taking it.