Sæterdæg Delvings

——-He could not make out the ceiling as it remained cloaked in shadow, nor any walls beside the door behind him that he just realized had now closed. Dival grunted to himself, ‘Well, here we are,’ he thought, ‘let’s see what this place is all about.’ He followed the wall to his left with light in hand before he came across two dust-covered overstuffed chairs facing the opposite wall which held a fireplace. ‘Perfect,’ he thought as he made his way over Dival noticed there was still some charred wood inside the hearth itself and a small pile of timber so dry next to it that it nearly crumbled when he touched it.’ Should light quick enough if it holds together,’ he thought. With flint and knife he had a fire going in no time, he warmed himself for a moment before building the flames up to get a better view of his surroundings.
——-Further down the same wall as the now lit hearth, there was what looked to be a bar, the bottles covered in so much dust they all looked the same flavor and vintage. Towards the head of the massive entrance hall it fell into darkness again, but within the gloom, he could make out what looked to be a huge table at the head of the room on the far wall opposite of the entrance. The table was of a thick oak and in the shape of the symbol representing either infinity or just an elongated number eight. Only one chair sat silently at the far end of the table. The single chair emanated a foreboding feeling to Dival, a silent challenge that pulled at him to come closer to it. As he made his way past the dust-covered bar he couldn’t help but stop and consider sampling some of the spirits himself. ‘Aged makes for a better taste, does it not?’ He mused.
——-Shadows appeared in his periphery vision, and his heart skipped a beat as he turned towards the table again. A figure sat unmoving with a cold stare towards him. The man seated at the head of the table turned his eyes to Dival. Long, thin, straight black hair cascaded over and behind the apparitions shoulders. Eyes the flavor of night pierced through Dival with a catatonic gaze. A deep chill ran through Dival. He couldn’t break away his eyes. A vice grip held his vision as he could do nothing besides return the look into hard dead eyes as black as charcoal. ‘No, that is a deeper color of black than I’ve ever seen, they consume the light it seems,’ Dival thought as a deep fear began welling up inside him, ‘Without pupils, those eye sockets could be hollow, but they aren’t.’ Dival could see the shimmer of the firelight from the hearth in the orbs within the skull of the man. The figure suddenly took in a deep breath, chest and shoulders rising. Dival could hear the soft breath of a sigh escape the thin lips of the pale-skinned man. At the same moment, a resounding echo of a door slowly opened with creaking hinges. The sound echoed through the entrance hall near the opposite side to the left of the table that dominated this end of the room. A weight seemed to lift from the room that Dival hadn’t noticed before, but now that it wasn’t there he wondered how he was even standing before.

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