Seizing the Crown » Places

         The door creaked and guffawed as Wolfe pushed it out of his view. It's sight sickened him. Doors always meant surprises and this wooden piece of covering was no different. His room was not proper; it was a disaster. As the door ran behind the wall to hide itself from the princely demon, Prince Wolfe Hertz Grimm walked in.

One leg fell before the other as he slowly paced about the room, soiling the red carpet. The carpet had to go, yes sir. It was a disgrace, even if it was beautiful. Wolfe fell on his knees and touched the carpet; pure Arkansas silk it was. The finest one could find this side of utopia. Smooth to touch but strong enough to bear the incessant tugging by Wolfe's clenched digits. Wolfe's posture straightened slightly as he began to roll the carpet, when something grabbed his attention like a blood does to a vampire or cheese to a rat; or death to Wolfe.

The stench was macabre at best, abhorring at worst. A mixture of dead rotting sewage rats and the putrescence of rancid food, Wolfe deduced. The source was the green hideous vase, an old Vesuvian era delineation encompassed the width of it. Inside it the former legatee of the quarters, a dead rat and his ill-fated piece of cheese.

Wolfe's legs moved again, covering the epigrammatic distance between the carpet's brown tainted edge and the vase whilst dodging the rusty iron bed. His feelers danced gracefully and with one fell swoop the vase was out of the small window, glass crashing. Next to the window stood another slammer, perhaps to a balcony. He'd have to look into it later.

The rolled carpet stood majestically beside the supports of the double-bed, like a faithful red silken soldier. The bed looked indecent, showing its painted legs; paint showing its age and the effects of the corruption that lay waste to the land of Ascavia. On the bed slept two red sheets, in all likeliness hiding the begs that gave men nightmares. A measly yellow stained white pillow adorned the sheets.

Sighing, Wolfe looked around. A lonely chair stood, barely, near the nightstand. It was diminutive and rusty, jagged edges protruding it's green back cover. One of it's legs was in desperate need of a wooden leg. Its hands made of yew and colored blue, even a slight rub would send splinters in Wolfe's hands.

The nightstand was in its prime, new and shiny. Now that the vase that had christened itself on it had left, it looked beautiful. A design swept across the red being. Star and contrasting, when the room confronted it, the design remind him of the blood vessels of a Draugr. The design marched in some places, danced and drove in other part. It had to go, Wolfe decide and groaned.

"Master, is there a problem?" a raspy, creepy voice spoke making the follicles on Wolfe stand. Wolfe swiveled to face the woman. She was fair, old and boils embellished her face; her stature small and bent, much like her nose. She had the eyes of a Draugr, thin, long and red.

"No," Wolfe's moved across her body. She wore a blue blouse and red ankle length skirt. The blouse greased up from hours of work in the kitchen; her skirt torn in many places, showing off the red sores on her epidermis. A black liquid oozed out from the crevice near the knees.

She looked down. Her foot missed kissing the ground because of a pair of brown broken slippers. Her right hallux was missing and the left one half-eaten. "Do you not like me?" her lips shifted, dodging the leaking pus.

"No," he said the saddened creature left. Stupid creatures of the dark...