Castle Levi'a-viris

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oh look, yet another attempt at a chit-chat


Castle Levi'a-viris, named after it's first mythical king, Levi'a-deivos, is a fairly large construction of blue-green-veined marble, flecked with gray, much like the sea below. It is surrounded by well-kept gardens, attended by a veritable army of gardeners and other staff. The family tasked with administrating the grounds are always willing to help or enlighten.

It can be reached by several wide roads, snaking through the nearby forests, or cutting through the countryside. Many a winding paths, carved into the cliff-face, lead down to the pure white beaches, foamy waves pounding onto the shore. There is also a small path, more of a collection of flat boulders, reachable only by low tide, which moves across the ocean, to abandoned yet still-imposing temple ruins, often shrouded in fog. Centuries ago, people held cerimonies and sacrifices to the god of the ocean, Levi'a-than. It is now reduced to a dangerous tourist attraction.

The castle itself, however, is all but gloomy. The five floors are always well-lit and clean, and one will always find a staff member scurrying about. The halls are often lined with bookshelves or paintings, and the rooms have an expensive antique feel. If one wishes to merely relax at the castle, he can enjoy the grounds, or the meals, or sit in one of the rooms and curl up to a book with a steaming cup of hot chocolatl to ward off against the freezing cold of the night. If one is more of the adventurer type, he can explore the supposedly haunted woods, or visit the temple of Levi'a-than, battle enchanted books in the more occult sections of the library, or spar with one of the other guests. Mysteries and treasure troves abound.

Whether you're a staff member, guest, or anyone, there's always something to do!

To ensure you enjoy your stay to the fullest, however, the old mage Arc'u-vir Lese would want to remind you of a few rules:

No godmodding, please -- cleaning up afterwards is a mess;
Be respectful to your fellow guests;
Abide general other rules;
And have fun!
vulgus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur






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Arthen walked down a road that made its way through the forests on the way to Castle Levi'a-viris. He was enjoying the walk quite well; it had been a long time since he had left the horrors of war in exchange for the peace of nature. He would arrive at the castle before nightfall even at his relaxed pace.

When the Emperor of Alfur insisted that Arthen, the greatest general in the nation, should take leave from combat and commanding, it was decided that a place outside of the war torn country of Alfur would be a better place to relax. Hidden in a long list of old files, the description of a castle in a faraway land was found. Arthen chose to visit this place not only for its peaceful and pleasant sounding atmosphere, but for his interests in grand buildings and mysteries as well. After a few weeks of looking for this castle, scouts found where it was and gave the coordinates to Arthen. Having no family left to visit Castle Levi’a-viris with, he left alone.

Arthen was in his late 40s, but because Alfurians live to be about 200 years old, he was still young in his time. He had black, well-kept hair and eyes of green. On this adventure he wore his standard issue dark grey armored uniform, and it felt good to not have the weight of a full armor suit on him. With his sword at his side, he feared little about the unknown land ahead of him. If someone asked, he may have said he was even a little excited to see the castle, even if it sounded more like a palace than a military structure.
My blood, it sticks, prone to freeze.
My legs will rot, far past my knees.
Tired of dwelling so far below.
Tired of being bound for shadow.




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Ahsen stepped out of his carriage, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles of his white suit, gleaming against his chocolaty skin. A tooth gleamed golden.

He'd just returned from a brief stay in Alfur, and now longed for some time filled with nothing but sloth. The country was a prosperous one, and his business had gone well, thus he had nothing to complain about. However, he was struck by the uptight, rigid demeanor of the Alfurians. Ahsen supposed it had to do with the aristocracy.

Seeking to, at least for a while, escape the bonds of his work, with nothing but a retinue of tenscore and a carriage, Ahsen had traveled the pleasant countryside, arriving Castle Levi'a-Viris but a few hours ago. His stay had already been cleared with the chancellor. He knew not how many others would be sojourning, though he did know of a particular guest, a certain general Arthen of the Alfurians. He smiled.

With a flick of his gloved hand, Ahsen dismissed the staff. They knew what they should do, like him, Ahsen's crew were travel-hardened and prepared. Quickly, he then paced up the white gravel, the castle walls looming above him, fading sunlight forming a halo round the edges.

He saw an uniform-clad figure approach, and increased his pace further. Once in sight, he smiled. That was indeed the Arthen he had caught glimpses of during the numerous court events he'd had to attend.

"Cousin," Ahsen greeted, extending a hand.
vulgus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur






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Arthen stopped walking as the man ahead of him approached. He smiled the best he could; it had been so long since he had felt joy.

“Greetings!” he called out. Arthen noticed the man’s extended hand. Although the custom was unknown to most Alfurians, Arthen reached out and shook hands with this person.

“I am Commanding General Arthen Penson of the Alfurian Military, how are you on this fine day?”
My blood, it sticks, prone to freeze.
My legs will rot, far past my knees.
Tired of dwelling so far below.
Tired of being bound for shadow.




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The dying sun's last rays glinted off her golden scales as Beacon scanned the landscape below for a good place to land. It couldn't be too close to the castle; far too many people for there to be a reasonable chance of remaining unseen. The forest afforded cover, but it appeared to be too dense for a good landing. The countryside was her best bet, then, unless she wanted to land in the ocean and take her human form for a swim. No, the warm clothes she had on when she last became a dragon was too heavy to swim in.

Beacon touched down in some abandoned field and swiftly transformed into a woman, completely normal in appearance except for cat-like lime green eyes. She was quickly sweating underneath the layers she had had to put on in the far north, and one by one removed as many layers as decency could afford, and stuffed them all into her enchanted pack. Unencumbered by the weight she no longer felt, she started walking down the road toward the setting sun, towards the castle. She wanted to get there as quickly as possible, locate the private rooms she had been promised in the open invitation, and change this heavy knit shirt for a cotton one more suited to this climate.
~*~

"You could look at the raindrops on your window, or you could look through the window and see the rainbow."
~K.C. Oxford

<YWS>




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Melanie tipped her head back, letting the tang of the sea and the rush of the wind engulf her like a mother all too eager to reunite with her long gone child. She smiled, letting the wind crack the tension that had accumulated between her shoulder blades from being inside for too long. Her tangle of red curls lashed out behind her like a feral wildfire, and her hazel eyes twinkled with contempt.
She stood from the thick hair of the grass and surveyed the roaring ocean from her favorite spot on the cliff. She smiled again, a foolish one that exposed all of her gleaming teeth and stretched the freckles splattered across her nose. This is were I belong, she thought.
A flash of gold caught her eye. She looked up, watching as a dazzling golden dragon graced across the sky, heading for the castle. She surveyed it for a while, her childish mood fading. She sighed as it passed over her head. Now that there were new guests, she would have to go back and help her mother with their things.
Her piebald horse Warren whinnied, nibbling her hair as if sensing her sudden lack of spirit. Melanie absent mindedly swatted him away, and then pulled in his reins. Jumping onto a boulder that surfaced high enough, she lid onto Warren's bare back and snapped on his reins. Warren sprinted forward, and Melanie leaned onto his huge neck, encouraging him until they were going at a breakneck pace. She maneuvered him to where the top of the castle peaked, and prayed hat she would get there before the new guests arrived.
"we'll fasten it with some safety pins and tape and a dream, and you're good to go, honey."



Ghosts, demons, and ghouls cannot scare the cat's underling.
— TheMulticoloredCyr