Larry stood in front of the mirror, gazing at himself in bewilderment. What was going on? Not more than a few hours ago he was at home, cozy in his apartment, reading a magazine and sipping hot tea. Now he was god knows where, with someone he didn't know, under mysterious circumstances.
Not being one to dwell too much on factors outside of his control, Larry gazed at his reflection. He needed to wash his face, and did so with the appropriately provided supplies. He also noticed that the wound on his temple had begun to bleed once more. Surprisingly, bandages and ointments had been set out as well, so he dressed the wound as best he could and applied the bandage. Of course, he immediately looked even more ridiculous than he had moments before. Now he was dishevelment, covered in a large tea stain, with a bandage on his temple, and fairly unkempt hair. Larry decided he could at least comb it, so he did, which only somewhat improved his appearance.
"No time like the present to see what the dining hall holds," he thought to himself. So, he left his room, turned left, proceeded down the hall to the main staircase. At the bottom he turned left once more, following the corridor toward the end. As he did, he began to question why he was in such a hurry. Why not check up on this new friend of his a little? Snooping around wasn't the sort of thing he normally did, apart from occasionally checking out a friend's medicine cabinet or poking around their refrigerator. But this was no typical situation, and it might come in handy to know his surroundings a little better than not at all. So, he took the door to the left, in the middle of the corridor, well before the dining hall.
The room he entered was well-sized, bigger than any of those in his apartment. Clearly this Drakewood fellow had a sizable bank account to afford his lifestyle. The walls were dark, paneled wood, with the occasional built-in bookcase. There was a fireplace in the center of innermost wall, and a large desk toward the center of the room. It appeared to be some sort of office or study, although Larry couldn't be sure. He'd never met anyone with such a lavish abode, and he wasn't quite sure what the right term for this room was. His gaze slowly planned the room, eventually coming to a large painting hanging above the mantel place. It was peculiar, almost Boschian in it's depictions of some epic battle between what looked like angels and demons. As he looked, the painting seemed to gather detail as he looked. The scene became more detailed the more he looked. Larry shook his head, and touched the bandage. That fall must have done more damage than he initially thought, since he was beginning to see things. But he couldn't keep from looking again. Again, the painting almost appeared to move and shift as he stared. It was almost as if it wasn't a painting at all, but some elaborate screen.
Just then, Larry heard movement in the hall. He was scared, because he wasn't really supposed to be in this room, so he ducked behind a heavy curtain near the door. Moments later, he heard Drakewood was passing by, speaking to someone else. They both stopped outside the door, but Larry couldn't tell what was being said, as the conversation was muffled through the thick, heavy wooden doors. He gathered his fortitude and tip-toed to the door, and pressed his ear to it. He was able to make out pieces of the conversation.
"...be down shortly. We'll explain the whole thing over dinner," said a voice that sounded like Drakewood's.
"But he's not ready," said a woman's voice. "And I doubt he'll ever be. Look at him, he's just some normal guy. We should leave before he comes down. We're just wasting time."
"No, we must wait for him. He's the most vital part of this entire plan," replied Drakewood. "Without him we'll never get anywhere. I'll meet you in the dining room shortly."
And with that, the voices ceased and moved off in opposite directions. Larry took a deep breath, waited a full half minute, then slowly opened the door to the hallway. He turned toward the dining hall, deciding it was time to go see what this was all about. He got to the door, turned the handle, and opened it.
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