Long before gunpowder, in a forest of what would one day be the Scotland, lays a great castle. Upon hearing this rumor you set out in search. While wandering through dense forest you see a castle matching the description. In a great clearing in the middle of the woods you see the high red stone walls telling you that this is the place. The walls are surrounded by a vast moat which is only half full. Through the glassy surface of the water you see everything from bits of metal to broken carriages to old skeletons.

The massive drawbridge is down across the moat, granting passing strangers access to the mysterious castle. As you pass through the raised portacullis you notice a faint shine between the huge stones that make up the walls. Upon closer inspection you see that there are metal sheets inbetween the stones and mortar, making the walls even stronger and resilient. As you pass through the gate house you see that along the walls there are arrow slits and in the floor spike traps. Pausing in the middle of the area you look up and see a trap door, possibly used for dropping things on enemys.

Safely making it out of the gate house, and the other portaculis, you now stand in a vast courtyard. The courtyard has a blacksmith shop, barracks, weapons circle, even a few siege weapons sit idly by on the grass. Everything needed to accuire materials for running a castle is here. As you look around and observer your surroundings you notice that the place is completely devoid of life. Only the wind stirs the grass as it gently blows through the woods.

As you walk across the castle grounds you notice that the castle itself seems pretty run down. Broken bricks and pieces of the once majestic gargoyles litter the ground as a broken fountain lies dry and pale, reflecting the moonlight as you pass. Walking around a cracked stone in the path you look up at the steps leading to the front door of the castle. The steps are done in a lighter shade of red than the rest of the castle. It takes you a moment to suddenly realize that the gargoyles were done in quartz stone instead of the red of the castle as well.

Slowly you walk up the cracked stone steps to the door, on either side you are flanked by statues, most missing large pieces of their bodies making them indistinguishable. As you stand infront of the giant oaken doors of the castle you look up the front at all the windows before you notice a relief of a werewolf in the embrace of another werewolf directly above the door done in obsidian. More importantly you notice that down the front of the castle a ways there is a chimney with a faint puff of smoke coming out of it. Excited that someone may actually live in this strange castle you push hard on the door.

The massive wooden doors slide open easily and quietly as if on well oiled hinges. Immedieatly stepping into the castle and closing the door again you see that the inside is totally changed. Gone is the broken stones and shattered statues. The walls are whole and well dusted. Shining suits of armor, holding a variety of weapons, some holding candelabras, stand along the wall every ten feet or so. Rich tapestrys cover the walls, some with war scenes and others of werewolves and humans holding festivals together. Thick rugs litter the hallways that branch off and large pillows count as the majority of furnature in the castle. The pillows range in size from man-sized to pillows that could hold full grown dragons. Passing a few of the rooms, their doors open to the hallway and a soft light spilling out of each you walk down the hall slowly your eyes pausing to gaze upon the urns and other treasures that reside on tables and holders. As you wander you pass a stone staircase, and pausing you hear a violin played far off down the hall.

Running now towards the sound, you see a door open towards the end of the hall. You stop just outside the room to catch your breath, before walking into the room. Across the walls are paintings of far off places, a painting of a werewolf standing in a dragons paw, both waveing, sits above a small fireplace. You look around the room before seeing the cause of the music in the back corner.

The tall man turns around towards you, violin in hand. His long, shoulder length black hair is strait and slightly curly at the ends. Out of the top of his head sprout two long wolf ears that twitch every so often. He peers around the room with his lilac purple eyes slowly, a soft smile curls at his lips, revealing the tips of long canines as he sees you in the door way. His shoulders are bare, around his neck is a soft leather collar with a silver clasp, and a pendant of a wolf. His shoulders are broad and his upper chest is well muscled. Trailing down his left arm is a tattoo in a strange language starting from his shoulder and ending on the back of his hand. On his abs is an old claw wound scar, the jagged wound trails from the side of his right hip almost to his belly button, cutting through a now indistinguishable tattoo. He taps the bow of the violin against the belt through the belt loops on the leather pants he’s wearing. The belt is held up by a large silver buckle that is in the shape of a skull with large fangs. Encasing his legs is a pair of tight leather pants, they are tight enough to look as though they have been poured on and show he’s not wearing anything underneath. The pants ride low on his hips, almost to the point that they become a fruitless gesture, yet they cover just enough for it to be appropriate. He is barefoot, as he shifts his weight slightly no sound is heard except the light brush of leather on leather. He runs his hand through his hair absent mindedly, mussing it up slightly before he looks up at you

He bows his head to you slightly before speaking in a melodious voice. “ Welcome to castle Thronnar. The other denezins told me of your arrival when you reached the gates. I have no doubt that you have heard rumors of this place and have come in search of it. If you wish you are free to stay, just mind the others that live here as well. Do not start fights in my realm, they will not be tolerated. We live a life of luxury and peace here. Some of the others have come to forget and some come to just have fun. As long as you are kind and friendly you shall always be welcome in the realm of Wolfbane the Werepire. “



^^^ The side effects of writing drunk.