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Order of the Sword & Rose
"...seven hundred and ninety nine. Twenty eight thousand eight hundred. There we go. Eight hours of rest." Belashyra pushed the door to the closet he was standing in and stepped out into his room at the inn. He never understood what it was about the Sleeping Spell Inn, when he first heard about it the idea of a inn on the outskirt of the city, in a mage area, built with its stones right against the jungle of the city, he thought the place would be horrible. Investigating it shortly after it opened, it actually felt perfectly homey to him.
The room was the chaotic mess it always seemed to be. Despite being assured by Miss Bauerdatter that no one else had a key to his room, it always seemed to get trashed. Bel takes a few minutes walking about the room, cleaning the stretches of his knitting supplies that seemed to get hooked around his alter back into something close to a ball, and in their basket, aligning the mirror on the wall to reflect the churning portal he painted on the wall opposite the mirror from anywhere in the room. Finally as the room started to look proper once again, he lit a cigar and placed it placed it in an ashtray in the front of his alter, wrapped his naked body in the cloak of eyes he had knitted years ago, and began to pray.
After his lauds, Bel went down the stairs to eat breakfast, enjoying his copy of Korranberg Chronicle, one story caught his eye in particular caught his eye. There was to be a fashion show taking place in a week, and it seemed from the invitation he had arrived in the mail, he was invited. As he finished his food, another story caught his eye. It appeared that people were beginning to go missing from around the city. Filled with a sense of urgency and déjà vu, Bel rushed out the door.