The Hotel's entrance hall is massive, an echoing reminder of the castle's once grand and lavish heyday. Marble sculptures and expertly woven tapestries embroidered with real gold thread line the thick stone walls. Large, overstuffed sofas and thick rugs are scattered about the corners of the room and while off to the right from then huge double doors a warm fire roars its welcome within a massive stone hearth. Above the double doors a huge stained glass window casts glittering color and light all around and where it cannot reach sconces that had once held candles have been converted to hold electric light bulbs. There are a few other modern touches to the medieval decor that can be noted as well. There are charging stations on several of the coffee and end tables and two televisions have been mounted to the wall opposite the hearth. One is currently showing a baseball game playing in Japan while the other has a rerun of an old 90's sitcom displayed upon its flat screen.
On the far end of the room, twin grand staircases spiral up to meet in an almost heart shaped arch before climbing higher yet to the second story and branching yet again towards the castles opposing wings. Nestled between these staircases is a large oak wood reception desk. Sitting, or rather lounging, behind said desk in a far too comfortable looking office chair is a main in purple and grey robes. There is a stylized purple dragon tattoo on his cheek and a smug smirk upon his face for any guest who might deign to approach him and interrupt him as he uses a small silver hand mirror to groom the short brown locks atop his handsome head.
Despite the very punchable look upon his face, Bartholomew is happy enough to set his mirror down the moment he is approached, putting on a professional but no less punchable smile upon his face as he does. "Hello! Welcome to the Farhaven Hotel! You're not expected, but then I don't think you expected the Hotel either, so it's no matter. What's your name? I'll find you a room and you can get some rest."
Everyone who comes to the Farhaven needs rest. That's what the Hotel is for after all, or so Caneadea has told him, and who is he to argue with a demigod?
On the far end of the room, twin grand staircases spiral up to meet in an almost heart shaped arch before climbing higher yet to the second story and branching yet again towards the castles opposing wings. Nestled between these staircases is a large oak wood reception desk. Sitting, or rather lounging, behind said desk in a far too comfortable looking office chair is a main in purple and grey robes. There is a stylized purple dragon tattoo on his cheek and a smug smirk upon his face for any guest who might deign to approach him and interrupt him as he uses a small silver hand mirror to groom the short brown locks atop his handsome head.
Despite the very punchable look upon his face, Bartholomew is happy enough to set his mirror down the moment he is approached, putting on a professional but no less punchable smile upon his face as he does. "Hello! Welcome to the Farhaven Hotel! You're not expected, but then I don't think you expected the Hotel either, so it's no matter. What's your name? I'll find you a room and you can get some rest."
Everyone who comes to the Farhaven needs rest. That's what the Hotel is for after all, or so Caneadea has told him, and who is he to argue with a demigod?
