Charis - Stables

As you step through the broken gates of the large stone stable, the air inside is stale, carrying the faint scent of dust and decay. The sturdy stone walls have held firm against time, though the iron sconces along them are rusted, their torches long gone. The ceiling is also stone, supported by thick wooden beams that creak slightly with age.   The main floor consists of a row of stables—at least a dozen, their wooden doors either hanging off their hinges or missing entirely. Straw, long turned to dust, still lingers in some of the stalls. Among the debris, skeletal remains lie scattered—a couple of horses, their bones brittle with age, and at least one large feline, its elongated fangs marking it as something far deadlier than a simple farm animal.   In the far corner, a set of stone stairs winds upward, leading to the second floor. The silence presses in around you, disturbed only by the faint whisper of the wind filtering through the broken gates.   As you search the ground floor of the stables, most of what you find has long since rotted away or rusted beyond use. However, a few items remain intact, hidden beneath debris or protected by time and neglect.   In one of the stalls, beneath a collapsed wooden beam, you uncover a sturdy leather saddle and a set of saddle bags—dusty but still functional. Inside the bags, you find a few iron horseshoes, slightly rusted but salvageable, along with a small, sharp hoof pick.   Near the skeletal remains of the large feline, something glints in the dim light—a dagger, its blade tarnished but still sharp, half-buried in the dirt. The handle is wrapped in old, cracked leather, but the craftsmanship is unmistakable.   Against the far wall, beneath the rusted remains of a broken harness rack, a coiled length of rope rests, surprisingly intact. It's stiff but could still serve its purpose. Nearby, you also find a rusted lantern, its glass cracked but still holding a small amount of old, dried oil.   As you ascend the worn stone stairs to the second floor, the air grows stale, heavy with dust and the lingering scent of age. Unlike the ground floor, this level was clearly designed for creatures far larger than horses. The ceiling arches higher, supported by thick stone pillars and reinforced wooden beams, some of which have partially collapsed.   The vast open space is lined with broad perches and roosting platforms, each large enough to accommodate a winged beast. Many are worn smooth from years of use, their edges chipped and weathered. Metal rings and harness hooks still hang from the walls, rusted but sturdy, once used to secure great flying creatures like dragonelles.   Piles of old, brittle straw and shredded remnants of harnesses litter the floor. Scattered among them, you spot massive claw marks gouged into the stone, silent evidence of the creatures that once made this place their home. Feathers—some no larger than a hand, others the length of an arm—lay in heaps, dulled by time but still bearing traces of vibrant colors.   At the far end of the chamber, a gaping hole in the wall lets in the wind, where part of the roost collapsed long ago. Through it, you can see the ruined city sprawled beyond, bathed in eerie silence. Beneath the debris near this opening, something metal glints in the dim light, half-buried beneath old nests and dust. As you sift through the dust and debris of the ancient roost, you uncover a few items that have withstood the test of time.   Near the rusted harness hooks, you find a reinforced leather flight harness, cracked with age but still serviceable with some repairs. The metal buckles are tarnished but sturdy, and the reinforced straps suggest it was once used to secure a rider atop a great beast.   Among the scattered feathers and tattered remains of old nests, you spot a set of steel talon guards—protective coverings meant to be strapped onto a dragonelle’s claws. Though rusted, a careful cleaning could restore their deadly edge.   Near the broken section of the wall, beneath the fallen beams, your eye catches a small metal coffer, half-buried in the dust. The lock is broken, and inside you find a set of fine grooming tools, including a bone-handled brush and a silver-plated claw file, once used to care for the mighty creatures that roosted here.   Finally, buried beneath a collapsed perch, you uncover a long, finely-crafted spear. Its wooden shaft is splintered in places, but the spearhead remains intact—a wickedly sharp, lightweight design clearly meant for aerial combat.