[Because of the vagueness...]

Without any kind of real grip beyond the paper within its folds, the book begrudgingly slides off of Calgarosh's fingers, and unto the table below with the help of his own strength of removing it from his hand.

The fire poker remained vigilant, standing upright, rotating slightly, but never straying too far from the fire place. It would lunge at the moment anyone came near the thing, however.

Beyond the dining room was a kitchen by all looks. This once well-appointed kitchen has seen better days. Various pots and pans are strewn about, broken crockery lies scattered on the floor, and ingredients of all kinds are spattered on the walls. A single wooden door has a chair propped in front of it, clearly holding it closed. The air in this room is warmer than elsewhere in the cottage.

For those heading down the hallway, towards the partially closed door would be met with... [must PM me]

Any calls out would be met with the deafening silence of the emptiness that is this home.