Ripples of Shadow
Chapter 10 - Whirlpools of Light and Shadow

The Filthy Animal Inn. The pine-wood sign creaked gently in the late afternoon breezes.  Plastered with the pure white paint and familiar violet moldings of Dalaran, the exterior far from suited the name given. Beneath the sign, wide, thick redwood double doors had been worked to a fine finish, its frame embroidered with thick charcoal-like edging and the etchings of a howling wolf on each door. The building entrance itself was narrow in relation to the ingress, with only one barred window, maybe half to three-quarters the size of one door. Hanging around it was a single draping of thick, red hunting wool with a black emblem of the Horde sewn into it. Opposite the window, and the far side of the door, sat a brazier hanging from, four spears, points up that looked as if they had been made of lacquered bone or ivory. Supporting them just below the blade was deep crimson, metal material whose underside had been blackened by soot, and half a pace from its base, four similarly made rods held the shafts apart. The brazier hung roughly a single pace beneath its overhang, barely moving in the wind.

Rash stood silently across the street from the inn, as scattered leaves searched for paths in between the steps of still the still bustling city. Conversation and clamor; their sounds melded into one mumbling murmur. Scrubbing a hand through his still tousled hair, he made his way through crowds of people toward the entry way.

The heavy door squeaked slightly as it pushed inward to reveal a stark change in scenery. The interior of inn could have been a cavern with its size. High vaulted ceilings held by heavy buttresses of burnished redwood interconnected the roof with a wide balcony running along three walls. On both sides of the dimly lit common room were alcoves lined with simple, rounded, wooden tables and chairs that had been filled with a myriad of patrons talking of great hunts and skirmishes. A rough looking crowd, and game hunters, for the most part. A perfect place to start a fight and no one think more of it than a drunken brawl. A perfect place for a set up. Rash paid little mind to the dialogue of the men and women at each table, but he had overheard something about hunting a mythical mana dragon. A folktale he remembered from his childhood. A favorite of his.

Thick, squared supports held the weight of each balcony. Across the ceiling thick ropes stretched across the common room holding banners of the Horde and tapestries that depicted every type of hunting scene imaginable. Walls were similarly decorated, yet in between tapestries hung the trophy head of stags, tigers, and other big game. A large, yet simple staircase lead to the second tier; beneath it swung double doors that led to the kitchen; the smell of cooking fish and stew wafting out as they made way to the working maids and servants. In the center of the inn, on the western wall, a brilliant hearth blazed. Hanging lanterns and braziers, similar to the one outside, loosely lined the edges of the room and the floor decorated with the skins of bears and wolves and some animals Rash had never seen before.

Rash was greeted by a burly, beast of a woman with dark skin and shoulders nearly as broad as his own. “Welcome to the Filthy Animal.” Even her voice was gruff. “One of many proud homes to the Horde, and its great hunters.” The woman eyed the long sword that hung from Rash’s back cautiously, as if she expected trouble. She wore thick, fur-lined boots and bracers made of wolf-hide, similarly crafted pants, and a sleeveless beige top. Uda was the innkeepers name, and from her exotic piercing to her banded, jet-black top knot, every inch of her said that she took no guff from any of her patrons. “As you can see, we are a bit busy this time of year.” She motioned toward the bustling common room behind her. “A bit more so than normal.”