Night 54: Basement - West Hall
[from here]
The narrowness of the space was the first thing he noticed. The walls were lined with candles here too, but it took a fair amount of squinting nonetheless for Indy to pick out the details of their surroundings. The door had opened onto a tight corridor, the end of which he couldn't see from here. He raised a free hand to brush the nearest wall and his fingertips met stone and fabric.
Hmm. When he brought it closer, Indy's own candlestick gave just enough light to pick out the general theme of the tapestry--some sort of gory battle scene. They looked old (tenth or eleventh centuries? Indy guessed wildly), but not like any tapestries he'd ever seen. The unusual bloodiness, for one, didn't seem characteristic of the medium, although admittedly he wasn't any kind of textile specialist. He leaned a little closer to try to get a better look at the fabric itself--the style of stitching and maybe something about the thread or cloth used...
A sharp pain in the hand holding the candle jolted him back to attention. "Ow!" Indy hissed. Molten wax had dripped down the side and was burning the side of his fist. He hurriedly brushed it off and blew cool air on the injured spot, trying to do so in a way that wouldn't also snuff the candle out.
"That'll teach me to waste time viewing the tapestries," he commented ruefully to the others. "Let's see what's up ahead."
The narrowness of the space was the first thing he noticed. The walls were lined with candles here too, but it took a fair amount of squinting nonetheless for Indy to pick out the details of their surroundings. The door had opened onto a tight corridor, the end of which he couldn't see from here. He raised a free hand to brush the nearest wall and his fingertips met stone and fabric.
Hmm. When he brought it closer, Indy's own candlestick gave just enough light to pick out the general theme of the tapestry--some sort of gory battle scene. They looked old (tenth or eleventh centuries? Indy guessed wildly), but not like any tapestries he'd ever seen. The unusual bloodiness, for one, didn't seem characteristic of the medium, although admittedly he wasn't any kind of textile specialist. He leaned a little closer to try to get a better look at the fabric itself--the style of stitching and maybe something about the thread or cloth used...
A sharp pain in the hand holding the candle jolted him back to attention. "Ow!" Indy hissed. Molten wax had dripped down the side and was burning the side of his fist. He hurriedly brushed it off and blew cool air on the injured spot, trying to do so in a way that wouldn't also snuff the candle out.
"That'll teach me to waste time viewing the tapestries," he commented ruefully to the others. "Let's see what's up ahead."