The heavy wooden door of the "Black Bone Inn" groaned as we pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit room filled with hushed conversations and the faint aroma of roasting meat and brewed ale. Intricate wooden beams spanned the ceiling, and the soft glow of candlelight flickered against the walls, casting long shadows that danced and swayed. Despite the cozy atmosphere, our entrance drew immediate attention.
Eyes, like a sea of curious orbs, settled upon us. Those eyes spoke volumes, brimming with trepidation and veiled mistrust. The inn's occupants shifted uncomfortably, the quiet murmur of conversation breaking off into an oppressive silence.
Sighing deeply, Antrodos ran his fingers through his hair, a touch of regret clouding his eyes. "I fear my past actions might have preceded us," he murmured, the weight of past mistakes evident in his tone.
