Eternity RPC Board
09-13-2016, 11:46 PM
Although its name plucked a discordant tune with Elke's senses, the inn itself, thankfully, seemed much more respectable an establishment than had the previous, more pungent boutique. Waldo and Chubb's place had been left, apparently, up the road. It was as much a concern to the young woman as last night's bad dream. For all intents and purposes, she was done with the two gentlecreatures half-competently - in the distraction of her delicious smell, no doubt - working the storefront. They were little more now than notes in her journal, characters with which to entertain her friends as she recanted the tales of her travels.
Not appearing to sport an aesthetic anywhere close to that of the sludge-infested quagmire in which she'd found herself moments prior, Elke gave her approval of first experiences followed by an experimental tug on the heavy timber doors. The hollow jangle of the chimes hanging over the door served as a welcome.
And it was the only one she'd be receiving.
The place was deserted. Only the spirits of past revelries seemed to hang around in the lonely room, swirling with the dust on rising billows of warm air created by the tinted pools of light spilling in through the windows. The faint smell of char from the fireplace and something that might have been smoked meat told of a bustling tavern full of music, laughter and many good memories. But there was nothing now. Elke looked up. Even the candles in the wrought iron chandeliers were extinguished for the day, cold drips of wax like icicles suspended indefinitely and awaiting a heat source to send them on their desired path towards terra firma.
As she stepped cautiously - cautiously, for desire to boldly venture into parts unknown had been dinged a bit by earlier stressors - through the dining hall, the light smack of the soles of her boots on the stone floors echoed in the emptiness.
"Hello?" the student called out in a voice unable to cloak her rising disquietude. Surely a place this in vogue, or at least relatively so when compared to its neighboring facilities, should have some bubbly welcoming committee on staff to greet incoming clientele. While, true, the sleepy little village of Myerleigh appeared as though vacationers were few and far between, this building had been the biggest Elke had seen thus far. It had to be the in-spot of the town; every other building she'd seen was in such a sad state of disrepair that it was either growing algae in the cracks of its waterlogged beams or crumbling from the cornerstone up. Forlag's, on the other hand, appeared to be well-maintained and even recently used, but the current cemeterial atmosphere made her now doubt the assertion that this Canker was quite so Cozy.
Passing by the rows of benches worn smooth by years of friction from heavy backsides and observing the gorgeous tapestries hung along the walls of the hall, Elke made her way towards the far wall where another door stood embedded just to the left of the bar. It made sense that there would be multiple entries to Forlag's; she had simply entered through the wrong one. For those not taking up temporary residence in the hotel, locals and travelers preferring to make their bed under the stars, there would be no need to enter via the inn. That was the door she had come through - the one specifically for the tavern. Had she gone around the back, Elke had no doubts that there would have been another entryway and another sign specifying that all visitors were preparing to enter the inn.
Once in front of the door, the curious girl tested the knob, feeling the slightest sensation of relief when it gave with no resistance, and pressed. The hinges sighed out a weary creak; like their proprietor, they, too, seemed unused to working during the daylight hours.
The door opened up into a separate room where, as expected, a concierge desk sat nestled in one corner.
Finally, she thought, trying to keep her hopes in check; it was easy to get excited as each step through Forlag's seemed to bring her closer to finally capturing her prey.
A hurry took over Elke's gait as she bounced over to the desk, admiring the lovely blonde maple gilded in front with a delicate floral latticework. The desk stood out so much from the rest of the Cozy Canker's decor that the young woman wondered if it hadn't been a gift brought in from some faraway land with a more refined palate for interior design. Or maybe Forlag had settled down with a pretty little wife who didn't quite appreciate the industrial, unpolished look of stone and iron.
Not allowing herself to become too distracted by thoughts of what this Forlag and his petite bride with a taste for goldwork must look like, Elke continued her sleuthing. There was no maitre d'hotel on staff even at the concierge desk - frustrating, but, at this point, not surprising. The place truly was dead. There did seem to be a door behind the desk, smaller and less showy than the one she'd entered through in the tavern and the one she'd taken to move from the tavern into the inn's office. It was unlikely, given its location, that it led out into the fresh outdoors, making her all the more confident that it provided an outlet, instead, to a lounge for the employees of Forlag's. Perhaps it even led into Forlag's own personal quarters - there was no reason an innkeeper shouldn't make his home in his own inn.
The door, however, was closed tight and had been fashioned with no window. The mystery of whether or not the owners were home would remain as such.
A girl such as Elke, however, being the brave explorer that she was, came to the conclusion that speaking to Forlag of the inn and tavern was not quite so very important. What would this man be able to offer her that she could not figure out for herself? Advice on whether or not someone matching the description of her target had indeed partaken of this establishment's hospitalities? Well, certainly, but the small rack of room keys hanging on the wall just behind the counter already told her that at least one person was checked in here; three of the pegs were void of their key: Room 11, Room 14 and Room 20. In a town now well established in her mind as not exactly being bustling, one of those rooms had to host her rare game.
After casting a more than slightly shifty glance around the room to ensure that no one was present to bear witness to her next maneuver, she began backing towards the staircase, eyes fixed on the window of the door behind the counter half expecting to see a face appear. When her heel collided with the bottom step and she had yet to spot a set of whites behind the glass peering in an incriminating glare into her own, she turned and booked it up the flight.
Each of the doorways appeared to be identical - unpainted wood polished smooth enough to prevent splinters, simple rustic fixtures, and a wooden plaque affixed at eye-level and carved out with the room number. The inn was a craftsman's dream, and Chubb and Waldo could stand to take a lesson.
"Eleven, fourteen, twenty," Elke repeated, verbally marking down each of the room numbers whose keys had been loaned out, lest she forget. Casting a glance to the left, and then to the right, she determined that the landing of the staircase had brought her to the hallway between Rooms 13 and 14. "Fourteen it is, then."
Bouncing over to the door, she straightened her back to look as professional as possible, and then gave a quick series of raps on the doorframe.
"Housekeeping! I'm here to, ah, check for mold!"
Not appearing to sport an aesthetic anywhere close to that of the sludge-infested quagmire in which she'd found herself moments prior, Elke gave her approval of first experiences followed by an experimental tug on the heavy timber doors. The hollow jangle of the chimes hanging over the door served as a welcome.
And it was the only one she'd be receiving.
The place was deserted. Only the spirits of past revelries seemed to hang around in the lonely room, swirling with the dust on rising billows of warm air created by the tinted pools of light spilling in through the windows. The faint smell of char from the fireplace and something that might have been smoked meat told of a bustling tavern full of music, laughter and many good memories. But there was nothing now. Elke looked up. Even the candles in the wrought iron chandeliers were extinguished for the day, cold drips of wax like icicles suspended indefinitely and awaiting a heat source to send them on their desired path towards terra firma.
As she stepped cautiously - cautiously, for desire to boldly venture into parts unknown had been dinged a bit by earlier stressors - through the dining hall, the light smack of the soles of her boots on the stone floors echoed in the emptiness.
"Hello?" the student called out in a voice unable to cloak her rising disquietude. Surely a place this in vogue, or at least relatively so when compared to its neighboring facilities, should have some bubbly welcoming committee on staff to greet incoming clientele. While, true, the sleepy little village of Myerleigh appeared as though vacationers were few and far between, this building had been the biggest Elke had seen thus far. It had to be the in-spot of the town; every other building she'd seen was in such a sad state of disrepair that it was either growing algae in the cracks of its waterlogged beams or crumbling from the cornerstone up. Forlag's, on the other hand, appeared to be well-maintained and even recently used, but the current cemeterial atmosphere made her now doubt the assertion that this Canker was quite so Cozy.
Passing by the rows of benches worn smooth by years of friction from heavy backsides and observing the gorgeous tapestries hung along the walls of the hall, Elke made her way towards the far wall where another door stood embedded just to the left of the bar. It made sense that there would be multiple entries to Forlag's; she had simply entered through the wrong one. For those not taking up temporary residence in the hotel, locals and travelers preferring to make their bed under the stars, there would be no need to enter via the inn. That was the door she had come through - the one specifically for the tavern. Had she gone around the back, Elke had no doubts that there would have been another entryway and another sign specifying that all visitors were preparing to enter the inn.
Once in front of the door, the curious girl tested the knob, feeling the slightest sensation of relief when it gave with no resistance, and pressed. The hinges sighed out a weary creak; like their proprietor, they, too, seemed unused to working during the daylight hours.
The door opened up into a separate room where, as expected, a concierge desk sat nestled in one corner.
Finally, she thought, trying to keep her hopes in check; it was easy to get excited as each step through Forlag's seemed to bring her closer to finally capturing her prey.
A hurry took over Elke's gait as she bounced over to the desk, admiring the lovely blonde maple gilded in front with a delicate floral latticework. The desk stood out so much from the rest of the Cozy Canker's decor that the young woman wondered if it hadn't been a gift brought in from some faraway land with a more refined palate for interior design. Or maybe Forlag had settled down with a pretty little wife who didn't quite appreciate the industrial, unpolished look of stone and iron.
Not allowing herself to become too distracted by thoughts of what this Forlag and his petite bride with a taste for goldwork must look like, Elke continued her sleuthing. There was no maitre d'hotel on staff even at the concierge desk - frustrating, but, at this point, not surprising. The place truly was dead. There did seem to be a door behind the desk, smaller and less showy than the one she'd entered through in the tavern and the one she'd taken to move from the tavern into the inn's office. It was unlikely, given its location, that it led out into the fresh outdoors, making her all the more confident that it provided an outlet, instead, to a lounge for the employees of Forlag's. Perhaps it even led into Forlag's own personal quarters - there was no reason an innkeeper shouldn't make his home in his own inn.
The door, however, was closed tight and had been fashioned with no window. The mystery of whether or not the owners were home would remain as such.
A girl such as Elke, however, being the brave explorer that she was, came to the conclusion that speaking to Forlag of the inn and tavern was not quite so very important. What would this man be able to offer her that she could not figure out for herself? Advice on whether or not someone matching the description of her target had indeed partaken of this establishment's hospitalities? Well, certainly, but the small rack of room keys hanging on the wall just behind the counter already told her that at least one person was checked in here; three of the pegs were void of their key: Room 11, Room 14 and Room 20. In a town now well established in her mind as not exactly being bustling, one of those rooms had to host her rare game.
After casting a more than slightly shifty glance around the room to ensure that no one was present to bear witness to her next maneuver, she began backing towards the staircase, eyes fixed on the window of the door behind the counter half expecting to see a face appear. When her heel collided with the bottom step and she had yet to spot a set of whites behind the glass peering in an incriminating glare into her own, she turned and booked it up the flight.
Each of the doorways appeared to be identical - unpainted wood polished smooth enough to prevent splinters, simple rustic fixtures, and a wooden plaque affixed at eye-level and carved out with the room number. The inn was a craftsman's dream, and Chubb and Waldo could stand to take a lesson.
"Eleven, fourteen, twenty," Elke repeated, verbally marking down each of the room numbers whose keys had been loaned out, lest she forget. Casting a glance to the left, and then to the right, she determined that the landing of the staircase had brought her to the hallway between Rooms 13 and 14. "Fourteen it is, then."
Bouncing over to the door, she straightened her back to look as professional as possible, and then gave a quick series of raps on the doorframe.
"Housekeeping! I'm here to, ah, check for mold!"