June Entry: Inn at the End of the World
"I don't care if he is a damned prince," the dark-skinned dwarf growled, his leathery left fist shaking in Nikko's face, "he has no business being here now... with us, doing... this."
"I understand your concerns Chisel," the tattooed elf said in his most conciliatory tone as the burly dwarf turned and furiously tried to wrestle his axe from the shoulder of a dead giant, one of two that had set upon the party from the darkness of the surrounding caverns, "but you must understand that we, that is to say myself, Eli, Markis, Arliss and Talon have an obligation to the King, and we are compelled by honor to do as he requests. Besides, the king would not send him with us if he did not think it was best for Reneel, under the circumstances."
The dwarf kicked the dead giant twice, his axe still buried deeply in the corpse. He wheeled on the slender elf in a fury and pointed one stubby finger at him. "You mark my words elf," he spat, "this lad will get one of us killed trying to keep him from becoming someone's dinner."
There was no humor in Chisel's demeanor, but Nikko found it suddenly difficult to keep from letting out a sharp snort at the large, ragged piece of vein hanging from the dwarf's nose. The stout fellow was covered with blood and worse from helm to boots, but where that all seemed grim, that one bit of giant gore was the straw that came near to breaking the donkey's back. Rubbing his own white and stainless palms against his eyes to hide his amusement, the elf shook his head before pulling his hair back and then intentionally not looking directly at the dwarf.
"It would be a shame if someone who had no duty to the King were to be killed trying to protect his son, so please make sure that you leave it for one of us to do," he said softly.
"Ach, lad, that is not what I mean and yeh know it," the dwarf protested, gesturing his hands in a stopping motion, "it's just that the boy is going to get slaughtered in spite of our best efforts, and then the lot of you are gonna mope around and be all insufferable for a day or two, and I have no mind to put up with it."
That was as much of a concession as the dwarf was likely to make, so the elf shrugged expansively and turned to leave the dwarf to unstick his axe.
"Does he think that I cannot hear him with his near-shouted confidences," the young human man asked Nikko as he approached.
"Oh, I think he knows perfectly well you can hear him," the elf replied with a wry grin, "but this way he can say things to you that he thinks you need to be told without shaming you by actually saying them to you."
The boy scowled. "I think it is clear that I am not welcome here," he huffed, his posture teetering on the brink of rebellion, "I can do just fine on my own if I am too much of a burden for you."
Nikko shook his head, still smiling. "No Reneel, you are not too much of a burden. But we are men who routinely go looking for trouble, always find it, and more often than not have to kill it quickly, brutally and without recourse to get it to stop. There is no more dangerous place to be than wherever we are. No place at all."
The elf wasn't smiling by the end of that. The boy thought for a minute, but that was as long as his irrepressible good humor could be held at bay. A wide smile broke across his face. "Isn't it fantastic, all of this," he grinned, gesturing at the carnage scattered in the gloomy dark all around them. A finger attached to an arm that was no longer attached to the first giant twitched as Nikko pondered Reneel's irrational glee.
"Aye lad," the elf sighed in resignation, "aye that it is. I think you will fit right in, given time... assuming you live..."
The elf strolled off into the darkness, still mumbling to his self.
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"I think we've done enough killing for one day, Nikko," Arliss, the priest of Varnus said, "a man's heart must be nourished, as much as his soul and his blade. Let us retire for a time..." he waved his hand around at the darkness vaguely, "the night... whatever."
"As you say," the elf nodded, his voice weary.
Reneel was still brimming with energy and enthusiasm. "Are you going to summon one of those ropes that leads to a room that smells like leather and is all gray and spongy on the inside?"
Markis the light dwarf chuckled in his beard.
"No Reneel," Nikko said with a faint smile, "in places like this one, where our enemies seek us and sometimes have extraordinary ways of going about it, it isn't safe to slip off into a pocket dimension like that. But I do have a little something just for such occasions."
The elvish wizard gathered the group around him. Each huddled close, making sure that their hand made direct contact with a bit of the elf's skin. Carefully, Nikko pried open a tiny latch on an ornate ring he wore upon his left hand. He tipped the ring upside-down into his other hand, popped something in his mouth, then bit down with a grimace. "Gah, I hate that..." he began. Then the world twisted, twisted some more, then disappeared.
Reneel's legs gave way as the group came to rest in a large room which was well-lit with lamps on the wall around them. The walls themselves were ornately carved stone depicting a variety of martial themes in bas relief by obviously different sculptors. The very large and muscular barbarian named Og reached down and stood the boy upright again, as easily as if he were a doll or some other toy.
"Have to move off the platform," Og said, thickly. He was not in the least bit stupid, as Reneel had discovered during many nights around the cook fire, but he sometimes sounded slow.
There was a circular area where they had arrived. The tiles on the floor there were red, whereas the rest of the floor was tiled in black. They swiftly moved off of the red area.
"Welcome Reneel," said the ranger, Talon, with a grand flourish, "to The Inn at the End of the World!" He gestured dramatically at a large, richly laquered sign hanging above a sturdy oaken door in the far wall. It was the only apparent exit from the room. The sign was boldly lettered and indeed said "The Inn at the End of the World" in glossy red letters against a field of black.
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The Inn at the End of the World is an oddity. Long ago, many centuries past, some wizard or priest stumbled upon it whilst attempting to travel to another plane. It wasn't much then... just a small cave with fresh water coming in a wall and then exiting through the floor. The magic used to enter the place is an odd mix of conjuration and transmutation. Once discovered, the secret was closely guarded and passed down to a select few.
Nobody was sure where the cave was, whether it was on this world or another, or perhaps even some distant plane. There was no exit from the cave other than the one the water followed, and it proved to be impossible to follow out of whatever mountain it raced through. Air circulates through the many cracks and crevasses, but from where, none have discovered.
Over the many decades and centuries since its discovery, an enormous amount of effort has been devoted to carving out the cave, sculpting and refining it, enlarging it, and carrying out the excess. Experts have closely examined the mined stone and have pronounced it completely ordinary. Great quantities of materials of various sorts have been hauled in, a few baskets or bundles at a time, and these materials have been used to build a quite-extraordinary inn.
It takes a great deal of cash-flow to support a business of this sort, a resource that the inn's patronage happens to be well-equipped to provide. The exhorbitant prices charged by the inn's proprietors guarantee quality rest and relaxation for those most in need of it.
Anyone coming to the Inn at the End of the World for the first time has been brought by someone else. One can bring themself and nine others to the inn, but no more. Guests may stay at the inn for about twenty-four hours. When prepared to leave, each guest must pay the going rate to receive a 'pellet', the tiny bit that must be crushed between one's teeth to activate the magic. Each pellet is attuned to he who purchases it, and costs as much as a night's stay for ten in the most expensive Inns of any realm.
The inn's proprietors have been an eclectic bunch over the centuries since it first opened for business. Dwarves, elves, humans, gnomes, and a few harder-to-identify species have held the reins. Likewise, they have come from all walks of life and a wide variety of professions. Skilled innkeepers have always been among the inn's employees, but never has one actually owned the place.
It is difficult to determine with any certainty the exact number of those who work at the inn. It has become a great and sprawling place, with quite a few masters in charge of their various areas. There are countless bedrooms, baths, bars, kitchens, common rooms and other, various facilities in the place, a veritable hodge-podge of halls, stairs, doors that won't open, rooms that weren't there a minute ago, and hallways that lead to nowhere. It would be accurate to say that even the owners don't have a good grasp on the extent of their holdings or all of the mysteries of the place.
My entry into this month's contest is the Inn at the End of the World. I will attempt to map as much of it as possible, but we all know that there are some things that no map can possibly encompass, ideas that the human mind can not wrap itself around and windows that were never meant to be peered through. If I should go missing, don't bother sending a search party. Have a pint in my memory and move on.
