Threefold Riddle
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC
The temple of Trios shows its age in the spiderweb of cracks that crisscross its dark facade, like wrinkles worked into the stone. Yet much as one may grow old but not feeble with it so the place demands respect not in spite of the blemishes of age but because of it. Around it lies a courtyard and then a high wall beside which dozens of lesser shrines and temples cluster, all seeming fragile in their oft colorful splendor.
"Another temple built like a bloody keep," Ser Richard grouses under his breath. "Why the hells would priests need 'em?"
"To house the small army they were allowed to have," you reply in like tone, motioning to the guards garbed in breastplates of burnished steel that seemed to mirror the muscles beneath. Such armor one might have seen in the days of the Freehold's first blush of power when they struggled against the Ghiscari for dominion of the Lands of Long Summers. "As the past few hours have shown time and again Tyroshi magisters are not the more forethoughtful of men."
"Who seeks to enter the House of Trios, Devourer and Renewer?" a challenge rings out from the gates.
"Viserys Targaryen, lord of this city by right of conquest," you reply, not bothering to list any titles beyond those relevant to the matter at hand. "I would speak to the master of this place regarding what has been changed this day."
"The Three are meditating together on the will of the Mighty One," the guard replies. "They have commanded that they not be disturbed and for that I will lay down my life and my fellows also."
Lovely... more fanatics, this time willing to die over being glorified footmen set to keeping away unwelcome visitors, you think with a flash of perhaps undeserved irritation. You do not yet know who these 'Three' are nor what they seek.
As you are considering whether to insist or move on to the plethora of other calls on your time someone calls his attention from inside. A moment later the gates are unbarred and a figure garbed in simple black robes emerges to speak to you. At a closer look you realize their face is also swathed in black, so much so that you cannot even tell if they are man or woman.
"What do you seek of us, Child of Dragons?" The voice is a rasping whisper as indistinct as the speaker.
What do you answer?
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OOC: A little short, but I need to get a sense of at least the tone you want to have going into this.