In the landscape of the city, it was quite inconspicuous.
The place stood a dozen stories high, made of sturdy, old wood, lined with hundreds of small formations that worked in tandem to keep the structure whole.
From the streets, Uriel could see a large sign perched atop the building, bearing the inn's name.
[Korynth's Hateful Inn]
He chuckled. 'What a name.'
He took a step forward, leaving the streets and stepping onto the inn's entry porch.
It was quite wide, with a couple of chairs and tables for those who sought to eat closer to the chatter of the city, along with a few barrels containing what he assumed to be either alcohol or general storage.
Uriel snapped his fingers, fully drying himself. Then he took a breath and stepped forward, pushing the inn's saloon doors open as he entered.
He was immediately met by a pleasant, warm gust of air that enveloped him whole.
The inn's interior was… simple.
