[Salone]

Locations

The Dining Hall

A room that deserves its name, the dining hall plays host to the extravagant parties of the Lady Scrimshaw. Elegant and spared no expense, the great floor is swathed in exquisite imported Cherry Blossom marble, cleaned and polished with great care. The long walls of the hall are adorned with exquisite stained glass blown in to beautiful depictions of stylized hunts, forgotten battles and events from the long line of Scrimshaws that have walked these halls. Towards the right side of the room, a long table capable of entertaining many guests rests upon the floor, the finest mahogany expertly polished and carved, only to be covered with a blood red table cloth. For tonight, six high backed chairs of the same cut of wood are spaced equally along the table, putting great distance between each guest. Aside from this table and chairs, the rest of the hall has been left bare, and once upon a time had been used to play host to elegant balls and other parties. The only thing that dances across it now is the flicker of flame reflected from the gas light lamps , twisted in to metal impersonations of artistic plants. Over the center of the room is an intricate chandelier, hundreds of candles burning away quietly in to the night. It graces the ceiling with its soft glow, and anyone looking upward would easily be able to make out the large fresco encircling its light. At both ends of the room is a set of massive double doors, carved in the curling theme of plants. Each door swings excellently on its hinge, and for such a large device it is surprising that it makes no noise when opened, and only a soft “thud” to signify the latch falling in to place when closed.

The body of Lord Treylbach is slumped over the table, left untouched since his death.

The Theater

Once upon a time this room was used by the Lady Scrimshaw, when she was a patron of the arts. Now it lies in disuse. A small series of theater seats line up in rows, descending in number as they approach the stage to give the room a rounded wedge shape. Two aisles break apart the rows of seating as the floor descends towards the stage, and meet a carpet encircling it. The stage itself is made of beautiful wood, the scrapes and dings from uses in the past now covered over by a layer of thick, undisturbed dust. The empty stage is illuminated by a single gas burning ghost light, casting a muted glow across wood. Faded curtains hang limply at either side of the stage floor, hiding the entrance to backstage and whatever may lie beyond. The darkness eats away at the light as it travels further from the stage, and the murkiness makes it hard to navigate unless one is directly on stage. You begin to wonder how easily someone could hide by merely sitting in one of the seats, even with the ghost light burning away. Further towards the back of the room, the two aisles turn and meet each other along the far wall, where a small set of double doors provide the only obvious entrance and exit to the room. A lack of windows refuses any light inside, and makes the back wall completely enshrouded in darkness.

The Library

A sea of aged books swells within these rich, thick shelves. Massive and long rows disappear in to various avenues, some crossing or breaking away to allow access halfway between shelves. It would not be surprising to find that thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of books reside here, novels and documentations over every discernible subject. Here the cleaning staff seems to have been more neglectful in their duties, and many rows of books play home to a light sheen of dust. In the very center of the library is an open space, several plush chairs residing upon the soft mauve carpet. The library is incredibly still, and it is easily noticed that all sound feels muffled and muted in this room. Footsteps disappear in to the carpet and voices sound distant and hollow. The architecture and design seems to have caused this on purpose to give a reader the minimum amount of distraction. By one of the chairs in the center is a small gas light illuminating the area, along with several candle lanterns for purveyors of books. They are sorely needed, as venturing in to the long shelves reveals that they quickly swallow up both light and sound, and finding any book within the gloom without one would be nearly impossible.

The Kitchens

For all the space of the mansion, the kitchen is packed and dingy. Long counters take up most of the sides of the large room, and various islands filled with pots and pans would make it hard to navigate if the Lady Scrimshaw possessed a kitchen staff. One of the kitchen islands is particularly set apart, and each section is marked to show the seating arrangements of where each guest will be sitting in the dining hall, as to allow the staff to prepare specific meals for each person and where the meal is to be put upon the table. Along the far wall near the entry to the wine cellar is a massive oven, large enough for baking or cooking multiple rows of dinners and large enough to easily step inside to clean. Along the walls are a large assortment of knives, pokers, various other types of cutlery and whatever else one might find in a kitchen that prepares a wide variety of food. In the corner of the room is the scullery, situated next to a door that allows for quick access to the outside grounds of Scrimshaw Manor for discrete entry and access should the staff need to leave to obtain something for an occasion without disturbing guests. The entire room is poorly lit, and many shadows are well encroaching upon the walls without the fires of the oven to push them back.

The Wine Cellar

Maneuvering down the old and slick steps from the kitchen brings one in to the wine cellar. It is old and musty, and being below the ground keeps the contents of the room cool, as well as anyone who may venture down here. The room is only dimly lit by the poor light from the kitchen, and as such rows of wines of varying flavors and years disappear in to the darkness towards the far wall of the room. The air itself is clammy, and soft layers of condensation build up along with the dust upon each bottle.

The body of Giselle Tavish lies in a battered heap here, beaten and bruised from her fall down the stairs. The steps leading up are dripping with wine and covered in shattered glass, and blood oozes from several cuts and scrapes.