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Unread 6th of April, 2016, 23:11
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Gralhruk
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Post The Crossroads Region

A thread for any world building local to the crossroads area.
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Unread 11th of April, 2016, 23:56
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Gralhruk
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The Lusty Vulture

One sprawling building dominates the immediate area surrounding the Crossroads: an ancient inn / tavern / brothel known as The Lusty Vulture. Rising fully three stories above the ground, the main structure is oddly constructed of local cypress wood but has been added to in ramshackle fashion over the years from many different materials. Currently, three out of place looking towers jut from the place, giving rise to a sense that the whole thing is sprouting from the ground like some gigantic weed. The squat, stolid Drum Tower was built a decade ago from locally quarried black basalt, while the Maiden's Tower - over a century old - soars high above the rest of the building constructed as if from a single piece of pink granite, and behind both of them in the far rear of the building is the Iron Tower - a toothy, jagged thing that is ever dark save for a red light in the upper windows.

Within, the place seems less bizarre, with warm walls of richly polished wood, bright (and faded) tapestries, brass oil lamps, and beaded curtains. It is, however, something of a maze of halls, stairs and rooms, with nearly every sort of pass time imaginable to be found somewhere within. Perhaps because of the spurts of construction and additions, it is hard to tell exactly what level one is on within the place - floors are located out of convenience rather than with any plan, and so there isn't a consistent concept of a floor as such. Also, many have said that the place is rather like an iceberg, in that much of the structure is actually contained beneath the surface. Certainly there are storerooms below and at least one safe room, but rumors place also dungeons, burial chambers, secret grottoes, and a vast series of unfinished caverns there.

A huge water wheel turns on the Eastern side of the building, adjacent to the massive Common room of the inn, though what it powers is a mystery. A slate path in back winds down through the mist and moor, coming once again to the River where a small landing sits. On occasion an ancient ferryman waits there, in his black skiff decorated with silver skulls.

Flint, the proprietor, is a nondescript man of indeterminate age with deep, dark eyes - those that meet him can seldom recall what he looks like (apart from those eyes) until he is once again in front of them, smiling his enigmatic smile. He keeps a fire burning in every hearth year round, and as he walks by extinguished candles and doused lamps flare to life. He speaks quietly and never frets about whether or not his guests can pay.
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