... It begins
It’s dark when the Keep’s newest guests arrive. The cold night air has seeped into the stones of the barracks sending a chill throughout the rooms. No fire has been laid, no lamp lit to beat back the cold or dispel the dark. Each cell remains exactly as it has for months on end, almost as though no one were expecting the small rooms to be occupied. And yet now, they are.
The floors are strewn with rushes and dust which rises in small clouds at every step. The stale air is suffused with the scents of old herbs, older stone, and the faint fresh hint of settling dew. The room must be explored by hand or perhaps, if one is lucky, some alternate way of seeing, for tonight it seems no moon filters through the barracks’ narrow windows. Questing hands will find stone walls, a narrow bed and, further afield, a utilitarian bathroom. A small, wooden nightstand sits by the bed, a leather-bound book and a porcupine quill waiting atop it to be claimed by their owner.
The door is a heavy, solid wood and likely the reason that the room seems so quiet. Any sounds from the hall beyond are muffled at best. The key is in the lock. How redundant, when the door can be opened with a mere pull.
The floors are strewn with rushes and dust which rises in small clouds at every step. The stale air is suffused with the scents of old herbs, older stone, and the faint fresh hint of settling dew. The room must be explored by hand or perhaps, if one is lucky, some alternate way of seeing, for tonight it seems no moon filters through the barracks’ narrow windows. Questing hands will find stone walls, a narrow bed and, further afield, a utilitarian bathroom. A small, wooden nightstand sits by the bed, a leather-bound book and a porcupine quill waiting atop it to be claimed by their owner.
The door is a heavy, solid wood and likely the reason that the room seems so quiet. Any sounds from the hall beyond are muffled at best. The key is in the lock. How redundant, when the door can be opened with a mere pull.