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Time has weathered its walls, and nature has claimed it as its own, with vines and foliage covering every surface as if foraging for room. The air is thick with a sense of dejic-mystery and significance depicted overtly by the castle's towering entrance. There are tales and tall tales that surround this place, that ignite one's curiosity even further. If you get the right traveler and enough ale. But never had any of them acquired the knowledge of it's location. Most of them even ending their accounts with, "but all of it but a myth", or it's equivalent.
Is this overgrown castle, that whispers of it's readiness to divulge its secrets and echoes that have been shaded within its walls and forgotten by Time, playing with the imagination or siring a confidant, a worker of its magics.
Graft appeared as a small child in contrast as he pushed open the Great doors. They let out a great shriek from age and unuse, sounding much like a Vulcarn ready to dive, giving battle cry as the last thing one would hear before the black...
Copyright © Jude Herrick | Year Posted 2024
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