Differences in The Wandering Inn 1.00

• The inn’s windows were dark and empty when the traveler found them.
• No,
• not a traveler.
• A trespasser.
• Not by her choice either;
• she was merely searching for some place to hide or rest without much care of where that was.
• She was desperate.
• Her clothes were burned and her arms and legs bore numerous bloody cuts.
• She had found this place by chance and had fled towards it,
• prompted by some instinct.
• The inn was dark and empty.
• It stood,
• silent,
• on the grassy hilltop,
• the ruins of other structures around it.
• Rot and age had brought low other buildings;
• the weather and wildlife had reduced stone foundations to rubble and stout wooden walls to a few rotten pieces of timber mixed with the ground.
• But the inn still stood.
• It was waiting.
• Not in a sentient,
• thinking way,
• but in the way all buildings wait.
• It was waiting for someone to find it.
• For wasn’t that the purpose of an inn?
• And someone did find it.
• A young woman stumbled through the grass,
• up the hill.
• Her knees were shaking and she was gasping for air.
• Her lungs burned.
• Her right arm was burned.
• Smoke was still rising from the charred fabric on one shoulder,
• and her legs were bleeding.
• Several shallow cuts had torn open her pants at the back of the legs.
• But still she climbed the hill.
• Because of the inn.
• After all,
• there was no mistaking the humble nature of this building.
• there was no mistaking it.
• Despite the years,
• the wooden exterior built upon the solid foundation of stone had not deteriorated much.
• The ancient grain of the rich oaken boards had withstood weather and rot,
• as well as time.
• The inn was four times the size of a normal house,
• built to accommodate crowds of people.
• But that was not what attracted the young woman to it.
• the building stood among the rest of the ruins,
• mostly untouched by the passage of time.
• The construction of this inn was superior to the other buildings.
• Or perhaps something else had kept it standing.
• Regardless,
• that was not what attracted the young woman to it.
• It was merely a thought.
• When one thinks of the most important building in the fantasy world,
• whether in games or stories,
• there is one that stands out above all the rest:
• the inn.
• From a place to sleep and recover health to a meeting place for adventurers,
• the inn is a place of solace,
• refuge,
• and respite.
• Epic quests begin around an inn’s hearth fire,
• and companions may be met dining upon repast both foul and fair.
• An inn is safety,
• or so the weary traveler hopes.
• The inn’s signboard was faded and the years had worn the paint long away.
• But still,
• she had hope,
• and she was desperate.
• So the trespasser mustered what courage she had left and pulled at the door’s simple handle.
• Nothing happened.
• After a few seconds she pushed instead of pulled and the door swung inwards.
• The door creaked open and revealed a dark room.
• To be more accurate,
• it was the common room where food and drink was served.
• Normally,
• the tables would be filled with weary travelers like the intruder herself,
• but dust covered every surface and no one was present.
• The inn was clearly long deserted.
• The inn.
• In every world,
• the inn was a symbol.
• From a place to meet and rest,
• to a meeting point from which epic quests could begin,
• the inn’s hearth fire and warm glow at night was a beacon for the weary,
• the hungry,
• and the desperate.
• But this inn was dark.
• The signboard over the inn was rotted,
• and years had worn whatever name it held away long ago.
• The windows were dark and shuttered,
• but the girl,
• the traveler,
• had nowhere else to go.
• Slowly,
• hesitantly,
• she stumbled towards the door and pulled at the simple handle on the door.
• Nothing happened.
• “…
• Of course it’s empty.”
• After a second,
• she pushed and the door creaked open.
• Mustering her courage,
• the young woman peered into the black room beyond.
• Her instincts told her it was a common room,
• a place where food or drink would normally be served.
• However,
• the inn was long deserted and a thick layer of dust covered every surface.
• “Of course it’s empty.”
• The intruder sighed and leaned against the doorframe,
• strength suddenly exhausted.
• She rested her forehead on one arm and tried not to cry.
• Her hopes had been shattered yet again.
• But it’s not as if she had had many to begin with.
• her strength exhausted.
• She rested her forehead on one arm,
• wincing as she felt her burns and the cuts on her legs.
• She tried not to cry.
• She’d known the inn was probably deserted when she’d seen it from afar.
• She’d known,
• but she’d hoped—
• “Ever since I came to this world everything’s been going wrong,
• “Ever since I came to this world,
• everything’s been going wrong,
• huh?”

• Slowly,
• she walked into the center of the room and turned around.
• An empty inn.
• A world full of monsters and the unknown outside.
• Her burned arm and shoulder hurt.
• The young woman felt the cuts on her legs start to ache as the adrenaline of panic and flight left her.
• Against her will she collapsed in a chair,
• raising a cloud of dust.
• she pushed herself back upright and walked further into the room.
• The inn gaped darkly around her,
• absorbing her footfalls,
• looming.
• It had been built to hold huge crowds of people,
• and it was cavernous in the night.
• The young woman felt as if the building might swallow her,
• but where else could she go?
• Inside was darkness.
• Outside was worse.
• There were things outside.
• Monsters.
• She’d seen them.
• Monsters,
• and an unfamiliar world.
• A world that wasn’t hers.
• She was tired.
• So tired.
• Slowly,
• the girl stepped over to a chair and collapsed into it.
• A plume of dust rose and she burst into a fit of coughing.
• The dust was overwhelming.
• But she was tired.
• So very tired.
• And though it was empty,
• the inn called to her.
• In its walls she hoped for at least some safety.
• So she sat and rested.
• Outside it began to rain.
• Another misfortune narrowly avoided.
• The young woman closed her eyes as the rain began to patter on the inn’s roof overhead.
• She could hear the gentle drops turn into a flurry overhead,
• muffled by the thick roof.
• But somewhere,
• upstairs,
• she heard water dripping down through the cracks,
• landing softly somewhere above her head.
• deserted of all life,
• and dark,
• the inn still called to her.
• Its walls offered some safety.
• So the young woman sat and closed her eyes for a moment.
• It began to rain outside.
• A cold,
• hard rain that pattered on the rooftops and seeped through cracks.
• Tapping,
• dripping.
• The young woman’s eyes opened a crack as the pattering became a rush of sound.
• The shower became a heavy downpour.
• That was one misfortune avoided,
• at least.
• It was peaceful.
• The traveler sat back and felt the pain of her injuries fade,
• The young woman sat back and felt the pain of her injuries fade,
• at least for a moment.
• The rainfall became background noise and she let herself relax for the first time in what felt like ages.
• She would rest here,
• The rainfall became background noise and she felt herself relax for the first time in what felt like ages.
• She decided to rest here,
• at least to begin with.
• But a thought nagged at her,
• something that could only be said here.
• something she could only voice now,
• in safety.
• So she opened her eyes and addressed the empty room.
• “…
• I’m really hungry.”
• “I’m really hungry.”
• Thus,
• the legendary tale of the Wandering Inn began.