03-15-2018, 07:12 PM
Floorboards creaked eerily under the party's footsteps, rebounding silently and gently bouncing a thin sheen of dust an inch into the air. Dane waved his hand, coughing as some of the dead particles trailed down from a nearby curtain, then clicked his fingers summoning a small breeze through the crack of an open window. With a faint whoosh and a slightly louder rustle as the wind blew over his companions clothes, the gust pushed down, staying close to the floor and walls while gradually cycling any loose dirt out of a further window on the other side of the hallway.
This wasn't worth the Omnilium. Admittedly, Dane couldn't really keep track of the stuff, he just knew he had like... a lot? Maybe? It was fluid and weird and he kept getting more. But, he'd already had his fun experimenting with the stuff so there was no use pondering it now. Anyway, however much he'd just tossed away, he could get it back sooner or later - it hadn't felt like a lot.
Idly making a few odd comments to stay part of the group conversation, Dane thought back to the innkeeper. Initially, he's suspected that maybe she was just a bit of a cunt. Or didn't like outsiders. But that didn't make any sense, and the few ideas and feelings he'd gleaned from her mind didn't add up. They were well guarded, secretive, but the old woman was definitely hiding something. He could drop it, of course - everyone had their secrets - but where was the fun in that? There was a mystery to be solved, and he was going to get to the bottom of it because he had nothing better to do. He'd mostly recovered from his earlier wounds already, so after clearing the dust out of the rooms the party had rented and saying his goodnights, he retreated to his own personal room for the moment and waited for the noise to quieten down.
Except it didn't. An hour passed, and with his room - number twenty - sitting opposite to the room Clownpiece, Cirno, Yuuka, and China were sharing - number eleven - he could still hear their conversation through the walls, punctuated with odd squeals and shouts, but nothing loud enough to travel far down the stairs. This place had been empty besides for the innkeeper as far as he could tell, so there wouldn't be any complaints from over patrons. Probably. Deciding that they weren't going to quieten down anytime soon, Dane quietly wrapped a basic spell around himself, muffling the sounds coming from around him. His door opened with a loud creak, audible only to him, and he slowly began to make his way down the hall.
"H-hey, give that back."
"No. It's mine."
"Yuukaaa..."
"Me help master-master yes-can."
"Stay away. No! Don't. You'll rip it."
A long drawn out tearing of fabric was heard amidst the other snippets of dialogue, followed by two muffled thumps and a couple of yelps. Dane shook his head, brushing back his growing hair - now invisible as well as silent. Admittedly, he did kinda-sorta-maybe want to know what was happening in there, but he figured he could probably snag the information sooner or later, as inconsequential as it all was.
With keen ears, he listened out, staying attentive for any muffled sounds on the lower floors. The creaking of his own footsteps, and the subdued noises from behind him, made that increasingly difficult, so without wasting any more time he rushed down the stairs, moving very swiftly. He could afford the luxury of not having to step carefully.
The ground floor was empty. No receptionist. But the doors and windows were locked and barred and the fire was extinguished, letting an icy chill slowly seep back in through the cracks in the windows. As far as he could tell, there weren't any other rooms besides those upstairs. Curious.
It was stupid.
From an objective standpoint, he had no reason to be suspicious. Was he really awake in the middle of the night looking for a fight?
Yet, instinctively, he just knew something was up. Or maybe that was just what he told himself to justify his actions. But, even knowing that could be the case, he subjected the bare room to his scrutinising gaze. It was bare, with the counter in the exact same state as when they'd entered based on his recollection.
Hmmm.
"Hmmm."
He hummed, knowing no one could hear it through his magic.
"Hmmm..."
He snapped his fingers.
The dust.
There was plenty around the corners of the room and the walls with slightly less on the desk, but what drew his attention was a sheer lack near the rug, like it had been draped over the floor and dragged about. Wracking his mind, he couldn't remember it looking like that earlier.
Experimentally, he crouched down, then began to peel up the rug, peeking under it.
Nothing. Literally nothing.
Just normal planks of wood.
No trap door.
Lame.
But, he had to admit, a late night perceptive exercise was kinda fun.
...yet, why was the rug moved?
Thinking about it, if there was a trap door, who moved it back?
Spooky.
Creeeaaak.
That wasn't him.
Standing still, he scanned the room.
Nothing.
Creeeaaak.
Wait. Footsteps. Slight distortions in the dust, starting by the door and heading towards the rug.
Entertaining himself, he drew his shortsword and lunged at his imaginary foe, aiming roughly for the heart.
His eyes widened when the steel met resistance, planting itself straight through the eye of a woman who looked to be about twenty. She had short brown hair and a lean build, but Dane was too shocked to pay much attention to her features, noting only that the reason for him impaling her head was due to the woman crouching down by the rug in time with his strike. Her body had materialised from the blow, falling limp to the ground the moment he pulled his sword free, silently due to Dane's lingering spell and the subconscious support he provided. Crimson pooled over the ground, soaking through the gaps in the floorboards.
That might be an issue...
But, that was also future Dane's problem. He could afford to clear up his totally accidental murder later.
This wasn't worth the Omnilium. Admittedly, Dane couldn't really keep track of the stuff, he just knew he had like... a lot? Maybe? It was fluid and weird and he kept getting more. But, he'd already had his fun experimenting with the stuff so there was no use pondering it now. Anyway, however much he'd just tossed away, he could get it back sooner or later - it hadn't felt like a lot.
Idly making a few odd comments to stay part of the group conversation, Dane thought back to the innkeeper. Initially, he's suspected that maybe she was just a bit of a cunt. Or didn't like outsiders. But that didn't make any sense, and the few ideas and feelings he'd gleaned from her mind didn't add up. They were well guarded, secretive, but the old woman was definitely hiding something. He could drop it, of course - everyone had their secrets - but where was the fun in that? There was a mystery to be solved, and he was going to get to the bottom of it because he had nothing better to do. He'd mostly recovered from his earlier wounds already, so after clearing the dust out of the rooms the party had rented and saying his goodnights, he retreated to his own personal room for the moment and waited for the noise to quieten down.
Except it didn't. An hour passed, and with his room - number twenty - sitting opposite to the room Clownpiece, Cirno, Yuuka, and China were sharing - number eleven - he could still hear their conversation through the walls, punctuated with odd squeals and shouts, but nothing loud enough to travel far down the stairs. This place had been empty besides for the innkeeper as far as he could tell, so there wouldn't be any complaints from over patrons. Probably. Deciding that they weren't going to quieten down anytime soon, Dane quietly wrapped a basic spell around himself, muffling the sounds coming from around him. His door opened with a loud creak, audible only to him, and he slowly began to make his way down the hall.
"H-hey, give that back."
"No. It's mine."
"Yuukaaa..."
"Me help master-master yes-can."
"Stay away. No! Don't. You'll rip it."
A long drawn out tearing of fabric was heard amidst the other snippets of dialogue, followed by two muffled thumps and a couple of yelps. Dane shook his head, brushing back his growing hair - now invisible as well as silent. Admittedly, he did kinda-sorta-maybe want to know what was happening in there, but he figured he could probably snag the information sooner or later, as inconsequential as it all was.
With keen ears, he listened out, staying attentive for any muffled sounds on the lower floors. The creaking of his own footsteps, and the subdued noises from behind him, made that increasingly difficult, so without wasting any more time he rushed down the stairs, moving very swiftly. He could afford the luxury of not having to step carefully.
The ground floor was empty. No receptionist. But the doors and windows were locked and barred and the fire was extinguished, letting an icy chill slowly seep back in through the cracks in the windows. As far as he could tell, there weren't any other rooms besides those upstairs. Curious.
It was stupid.
From an objective standpoint, he had no reason to be suspicious. Was he really awake in the middle of the night looking for a fight?
Yet, instinctively, he just knew something was up. Or maybe that was just what he told himself to justify his actions. But, even knowing that could be the case, he subjected the bare room to his scrutinising gaze. It was bare, with the counter in the exact same state as when they'd entered based on his recollection.
Hmmm.
"Hmmm."
He hummed, knowing no one could hear it through his magic.
"Hmmm..."
He snapped his fingers.
The dust.
There was plenty around the corners of the room and the walls with slightly less on the desk, but what drew his attention was a sheer lack near the rug, like it had been draped over the floor and dragged about. Wracking his mind, he couldn't remember it looking like that earlier.
Experimentally, he crouched down, then began to peel up the rug, peeking under it.
Nothing. Literally nothing.
Just normal planks of wood.
No trap door.
Lame.
But, he had to admit, a late night perceptive exercise was kinda fun.
...yet, why was the rug moved?
Thinking about it, if there was a trap door, who moved it back?
Spooky.
Creeeaaak.
That wasn't him.
Standing still, he scanned the room.
Nothing.
Creeeaaak.
Wait. Footsteps. Slight distortions in the dust, starting by the door and heading towards the rug.
Entertaining himself, he drew his shortsword and lunged at his imaginary foe, aiming roughly for the heart.
His eyes widened when the steel met resistance, planting itself straight through the eye of a woman who looked to be about twenty. She had short brown hair and a lean build, but Dane was too shocked to pay much attention to her features, noting only that the reason for him impaling her head was due to the woman crouching down by the rug in time with his strike. Her body had materialised from the blow, falling limp to the ground the moment he pulled his sword free, silently due to Dane's lingering spell and the subconscious support he provided. Crimson pooled over the ground, soaking through the gaps in the floorboards.
That might be an issue...
But, that was also future Dane's problem. He could afford to clear up his totally accidental murder later.
Quote:I'll finish this off tomorrow.