Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20190417003707/@comment-5543592-20190502203505

The receptionist led them through the steel halls of the palace, shoes clicking on the stone floor. It was very much an administrative building, official, clean, imposing-- but stale. They entered into a hallway lined with offices, and came to the one all the way at the end of the hall. One of the double doors was propped open, looking into a spartan room-- uncushioned furniture, sanded and waxed but undecorated tables. The desk was low to the ground, so that one had to sit on the ground to use it.

Behind it now sat a middle-aged Asian man, rested in a half-lotus position on a cushion, typing something out on a type-writer.

"Chairman Qin?" The receptionist gave a quick knock and peeked in. "Ms. Waite and Mr. Holland are here?"

"Send them in." Qin said, without looking up. He was thin, with bookish pale features, and looked more scholar than politician. His clothing was oriental--foreign--making it difficult to tell if what he was wearing was casual or professional.

The door slid open and they stepped outside into the billowing dust storm. It wasn't terrible--visiblity was high and they could see at least two hundred feet in every direction, but nothing else. The storm seemed all-encompassing, as if it went on forever.

"Ulysses' camp will be that way." Josey's voice crackled through his helmet and pointed. He led them along the cliffside. It crumbled under their feet as they walked, loose stones sliding into the abyssal trench on their immediate left. On their right was a sheer mountainside, that, thanks to the storm, seeming to ascend straight into the heavens. The sky was brown.