The GateHouse (mature warning)

The rain in the 13th century was a struggle to bare against if you were a peasant. The wooden houses were cold, moist and damp with the constant rhythm of drips and droplets of water from the roof. The RoseBrook Inn had a small batch of costumers, mostly wanderers and peasants trying to escape the rain. In the dead of night, the place was dimly lit by candle fire that cast a warm orange hue over the tables and the walls that was covered by hanging adornments and decorations. The most prominent was a large stair case leading to the second floor where the bedrooms were held which seemed to always serve as a gateway to sleep to the drunken and disoriented.




The few men and women that served them had grown accustomed to hearing the bell ring once the front door was opened.
But what they weren't prepared for was what looked like a floating face among a cloaked body. This dark figure, had a presence, an' aura about it that the peasants would find intimidating and its face had markings around its eyes. which would make the bartender from beyond the counter to ask the question: " Are you a servant of the devil?"

Suddenly the face became soft and precious that contradicts first impressions. Yet this face was stoic and stiffened from lack of emotional expression. "No, I come with no ill intent. Please. I need you to hide me, im a fugitive. If you'd let me stay I will work for you." The clad in black figure suddenly knelt to it's knees, bowing it's head down, with a sense of shame and servitude.