Eternity RPC Board
09-14-2016, 12:10 AM
There had been no mold in Elke's room at Forlag's inn, which she'd, indeed, inspected. She felt no obligation to the innkeep stemming from her bluff of being a professional in the field of searching for rot and ruin, but the idea had gotten her curious. The old man didn't exactly seem the type to think to check for fungi and molds, and the inn seemed the type to be full of such things.
On the contrary, the room had been nice considering the crumbling state of decay in which large swathes of Myerleigh village found itself. The straw-stuffed mattress had been covered with a thick down topper dense enough to keep any mischievous, needly fibers from giving her a midnight poking. There were no infestations of any sort visible - not mold nor mildew not insect. Soft woven blankets had been provided for her comfort, and the young traveller delighted in her realization that they could be strung up from the headboard to make a cloth fortress like the one she had at home. In the corner of the room was a wash basin and mirror, the water in the pitcher still warm and a perfumed lump of obviously homemade soap at the ready. There was a small window with wooden blinds opened to let in the dying light of the late afternoon and the smell of pine tar and wild onions from the forest. Compared to her past week's sleeps performed in the uncomfortable elements, Elke decided it a veritable heaven.
The women's bath, she'd learned, was communal and located downstairs, and that had been her first stop. No more smelling like a troll. She took the opportunity found in the sudsy solitude to ponder the missing room keys she'd spied earlier. One was probably Nevina's, but what of the other two? Were there actually additional guests here, or had the keys just gone missing? She could ask Forlag, but did Forlag even know? As if he ever supplied a straight answer, anyway.
As the evening dwindled, Elke, now clean, spent the last hours of the day curled up in her hand-strung blanket nest, jotting ideas and scribbling doodles into her journal by the glow of a flameless light produced from the empty husk of a huge Sydra beetle - a spell to which she'd devoted several years of her life and yet which remained imperfect. (This night, she'd produced a very amber-tinted light. Last week, it was more of a green like new spring leaves. Creating pure white light was almost impossible with so many subtle variations in elemental makeup, she'd decided.)
Elke did regret staying up perhaps a bit too late, lost in the pages of her travelogue and waxing prolific in her writing down of ideas. She didn't quite remember falling asleep, but by the time she rose, the sparrows perched outside her window were beginning to herald the dawn. A quick splash in the wash basin and a hurried stowing of her things, and Nevina's newest student was downstairs at the agreed upon rendezvous point.
Had there ever really been anyone in this banquet hall? Elke swore - swore she could smell the phantasmic scents of fresh bread and roasted meat with root vegetables and recently spilled ale absorbed into the wood grain of the countertops, but she'd never seen anyone coming or going. A late-night crowd that liked to make their merriment after bookish magelings like her were asleep, then, or a spell cast by Forlag to create the illusion of an inn more bustling than it actually was?
Who knew...?
There was food now, though. And although it most definitely was not the source of the nice smells in the great, oaken room, it did look tasty.
"Oh, this is more than acceptable," Elke quickly assured Nevina. "Thank you."
Having gathered all her belongings upon checkout, Elke dropped them all by a spot at the table that she decided would be hers and took an empty saucer she envisioned as being loaded down with a slice of that coarse, grainy toast, perhaps topped off with a smear of the soft, creamy cheese in that shallow dish. Was that dill swirled into the cheese? Yes, definitely. And those berries, there - those would make a perfect garnish.
Attempting a more meager portion through power of will, Elke sat with her sensibly loaded plate and tucked in to her breakfast.
It was Nevina who drew attention to the odd little vial first; her pupil honestly found the food more interesting at the moment, but there, indeed, was a swirling potion of some sort, perched on the table as if it belonged there.
"Blood?" the young woman inquired with a smidge of trepidation.
Upon second thought, she could recall a similar-looking concoction being prepared by her father once. He'd called it Something-or-other's Blood, she couldn't remember, but it contained only the crimson remnants of brewed redroot, not actual blood.
Because it was too early in the morning to want to consider otherwise, Elke assumed Nevina's concoction was also not real blood. Even if Forlag did look rather deceased in her lap.
Oh - no - he was alive after all. Just sleeping, apparently.
Had he remembered her I-owe-you agreement? He had held up his end of the bargain, and, squirrelly though he was, he seemed the type to remember promises for one object from his deepest desires.
Maybe he'd just stay asleep.
"If I'm being completely honest, potions and tinctures are not my specialty." Even with an herbalist as a father and an experienced plant-gatherer herself, Elke's knowledge was rooted more in medicinal mixtures and less in magical ones. "What is this used for?"
On the contrary, the room had been nice considering the crumbling state of decay in which large swathes of Myerleigh village found itself. The straw-stuffed mattress had been covered with a thick down topper dense enough to keep any mischievous, needly fibers from giving her a midnight poking. There were no infestations of any sort visible - not mold nor mildew not insect. Soft woven blankets had been provided for her comfort, and the young traveller delighted in her realization that they could be strung up from the headboard to make a cloth fortress like the one she had at home. In the corner of the room was a wash basin and mirror, the water in the pitcher still warm and a perfumed lump of obviously homemade soap at the ready. There was a small window with wooden blinds opened to let in the dying light of the late afternoon and the smell of pine tar and wild onions from the forest. Compared to her past week's sleeps performed in the uncomfortable elements, Elke decided it a veritable heaven.
The women's bath, she'd learned, was communal and located downstairs, and that had been her first stop. No more smelling like a troll. She took the opportunity found in the sudsy solitude to ponder the missing room keys she'd spied earlier. One was probably Nevina's, but what of the other two? Were there actually additional guests here, or had the keys just gone missing? She could ask Forlag, but did Forlag even know? As if he ever supplied a straight answer, anyway.
As the evening dwindled, Elke, now clean, spent the last hours of the day curled up in her hand-strung blanket nest, jotting ideas and scribbling doodles into her journal by the glow of a flameless light produced from the empty husk of a huge Sydra beetle - a spell to which she'd devoted several years of her life and yet which remained imperfect. (This night, she'd produced a very amber-tinted light. Last week, it was more of a green like new spring leaves. Creating pure white light was almost impossible with so many subtle variations in elemental makeup, she'd decided.)
Elke did regret staying up perhaps a bit too late, lost in the pages of her travelogue and waxing prolific in her writing down of ideas. She didn't quite remember falling asleep, but by the time she rose, the sparrows perched outside her window were beginning to herald the dawn. A quick splash in the wash basin and a hurried stowing of her things, and Nevina's newest student was downstairs at the agreed upon rendezvous point.
Had there ever really been anyone in this banquet hall? Elke swore - swore she could smell the phantasmic scents of fresh bread and roasted meat with root vegetables and recently spilled ale absorbed into the wood grain of the countertops, but she'd never seen anyone coming or going. A late-night crowd that liked to make their merriment after bookish magelings like her were asleep, then, or a spell cast by Forlag to create the illusion of an inn more bustling than it actually was?
Who knew...?
There was food now, though. And although it most definitely was not the source of the nice smells in the great, oaken room, it did look tasty.
"Oh, this is more than acceptable," Elke quickly assured Nevina. "Thank you."
Having gathered all her belongings upon checkout, Elke dropped them all by a spot at the table that she decided would be hers and took an empty saucer she envisioned as being loaded down with a slice of that coarse, grainy toast, perhaps topped off with a smear of the soft, creamy cheese in that shallow dish. Was that dill swirled into the cheese? Yes, definitely. And those berries, there - those would make a perfect garnish.
Attempting a more meager portion through power of will, Elke sat with her sensibly loaded plate and tucked in to her breakfast.
It was Nevina who drew attention to the odd little vial first; her pupil honestly found the food more interesting at the moment, but there, indeed, was a swirling potion of some sort, perched on the table as if it belonged there.
"Blood?" the young woman inquired with a smidge of trepidation.
Upon second thought, she could recall a similar-looking concoction being prepared by her father once. He'd called it Something-or-other's Blood, she couldn't remember, but it contained only the crimson remnants of brewed redroot, not actual blood.
Because it was too early in the morning to want to consider otherwise, Elke assumed Nevina's concoction was also not real blood. Even if Forlag did look rather deceased in her lap.
Oh - no - he was alive after all. Just sleeping, apparently.
Had he remembered her I-owe-you agreement? He had held up his end of the bargain, and, squirrelly though he was, he seemed the type to remember promises for one object from his deepest desires.
Maybe he'd just stay asleep.
"If I'm being completely honest, potions and tinctures are not my specialty." Even with an herbalist as a father and an experienced plant-gatherer herself, Elke's knowledge was rooted more in medicinal mixtures and less in magical ones. "What is this used for?"