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An old castle sits on the edge of a forest, with a large lake just off to the west. North, past the forest, is a steep cliff dotted with cave openings, some of which are rumored to lead into the castle cellars.

And the castle itself...an ancient structure, white stones worn and cracked, yet still incredibly strong, thanks to the magics permeating the structure itself. The souls of the long dead aren't such an uncommon sight within these old walls, yet not all are peaceful. Though the structure consists of three floors and the cellar, all but the cellars and first floor are sealed, and rumors say it's not just the tavern owner controlling these seals.

The first floor is the typical tavern, a bar and DJ booth dominating the north wall, opposite the front doors. Tables are scattered around the room, and a few private booths line the other two walls. By the DJ booth are the stairs leading to the second floor, but those who have not received the owner's permission, will find a glowing blue shield blocking their way.

The second floor houses the rooms up for rent from the owner. Certain halls are locked, open to only the regulars and friends of the owner, one of which leads to the owner's rooms, another that leads to the stairs to the third story. Those attempting to venture to the next floor with out the owner's consent will find a glowing red shield barring their path.

The third floor is a maze of halls, locked doors, and dead ends. Things prowl the darkened corridors, and a constant whispering voice can be heard, just loud enough to make out a few words here and there. It's rumored that those killed within the castle walls lurk here, looking for revenge on the living. Many of the doors are locked or simply rusted shut from age, and it is astoundingly easy to get lost on this floor.

Another shield blocks the stairs to the rooftop, and this one glows a sickly purple color. Few are given permission to pass this shield, for the stairwell to the roof is the link between this world and an entirely different one. The rooftop itself seems normal, it's the environment around it that is so out of place. Here, the sky glows grey, often filled with blood red clouds. The castle itself is surrounded by a thick forest on all sides, and the lower levels of this realm are currently inaccessible. One thing is certain, it pays not to stray far from the stairwell, for mortal races have an extremely difficult time surviving here. The realm is thick with wild magics, and it is easy to lose one's mind or even soul there.

Back on the first floor, one can find the stairs to the cellar behind the bar. While the door is usually kept locked, though there is a shield here as well, that glows white. In the cellar, one can find shelves and cabinets full of wines and ales and other supplies. At the far end of the cellar storeroom, is another door. Beyond this door, the cellar expands into a large cavern, torches along the walls keeping the huge room well lit. Here, tournaments and other fights can be held, though the owner must unlock the arena room before others can use it. At the far end of the arena cavern are an immense set of double doors, worn and ancient. Yet another shield covers these doors, one that pulses black. It is rumored that some horrible undead creature resides beyond these doors.

It is outside the front doors that one can find a simple metal plaque bearing the name of the building. 'The Last Stop' is engraved upon the shining surface, a second line below the name reading 'All races welcome'.

And where do all these rumors originate? Within the castle, and the town east of it, of course. So do you dare step within? Even the owner herself is rumored to be quite strange.

A tall, pale skinned man found the castle. He paused and examined the sign with his pale silver eyes. Snow white hair caught a light breeze, whipping around the golden rams horns that was either a very elegant holy headdress or they actually grew from his skull. Most people presumed the former. He smiled serenely and pulled the crimson robes that marked him out as a very high priest around himself.

He stepped forward and pushed open the door with golden nailed hands. He glanced around, his tall oak staff tapping on the floorboards. It seemed to be the only thing he carried. Wandering priests like himself rarely carried much. Aside from the carved staff all he had to his name was his robes, a pair of leather and copper bracers inscribed with holy symbols, an ancient copper ring with the seal of the high temple and a bag gifted to him that could not be seen, having become part of his robes magically.

A tavern was always a welcome stop for a priest. They were full of people to minister to usually, saving him from walking for a while. If the tavern owners were open to him staying around. He saw none in charge save a neko girl wiping down the bar itself. So it was her that he approached. With a slow bow (this priest never seemed to do anything in a hurry) he spoke with a calm voice.
"Blessings to you, feline sister. I am seeking a place to rest." He smiled.

His silver eyes seemed to almost bore through her, yet they were not intense. It was just as if he saw beyond that which most people did. He turned his head just slightly, openly gazing at the two men in the corner that had looked up at him. Caught in the act of staring they quickly went back to their hushed conversation. He looked back to the girl.

"Thank you. I would greatly appreciate a room, Seishou. My name is Kai. Might there be some simple fare you could spare as a meal? Perhaps water and some stale bread? I do not carry much currency, so whatever you can give will be gratefully accepted." He asked with his gentle, soothing voice.

He rested his staff against the bar and perched himself elegantly on one of the bar stools with as much patience as he did anything. Eyes traced around the room and back to the girl.
"You own all of this? You must be a very hard worker. It cannot be easy for one such as yourself to manage a business." He smiled warmly.

Kai tilted his head just so in amusement as she questioned his seriousness. He wondered if there was a single thing about him that suggested he was ever not serious. Such things did happen. Even priests have a sense of humour after all. It just wasn't seen very often when it came to the horned cleric.
"Well I would not wish you to part with fresh food that could easily be served to another customer. I am happy with whatever waste you need rid of." He smiled serenely. Really, he'd eaten a lot worse in his lifetime. "Whatever you can spare would be greatly appreciated. However simple or unappetising to others."

Perhaps he would be of some used to her. He always tried to lend a hand to those who asked for his help. Living or otherwise. And unlike most priests his rather unique personal background made him an excellent candidate for such a trial. There were folk legends told about Kai, though few realised that he was who they referred to.

"Oh I see. A family business. How charming. There are increasingly few of those left today. It is refreshing to encounter such a pleasant place hidden away. What an unusual setting. Is the business good?" He was quietly curious about the castle and the town, not to mention the owner.

There was no doubt in his mind that the fruit she lay out before him was as fresh ans succulent as any freshly harvested. But he did not turn the fruit away. She had given what she had given and it was simply polite for him to accept it and enjoy it with great appreciation. Which he did with a gentle thanking. One could always judge a person by what they provided to the penniless. In some places he had been given rotting cheeses and mouldy bread. In others feasts had been put out for him - generally by sovereigns hoping for some great blessings. Bribe the priest. It was more common than people realised. And it never worked. Ah but this, this was just right. Fresh and freely given with no grovelling and begging to sour it.

He picked at the fruit with his slender and pale fingers, passing the juicy flesh up to his lips in a way that was almost lascivious. It seemed out of character, but his mother had been the pure one. His father had been the one he had inherited the golden horns from, that and everything that came with them. For a priest he knew what the true treasures of the world were and just how to enjoy them. And these fruits were treasures indeed. Despite the way he ate, he managed to stay clean somehow. He lifted the ice water to his lips, grateful for the frozen temperature of it. He really preferred the cold to the hot. That much he gained from his mother.

"Your mother must have been quiet a cook. Or quite a beauty. To look at you I would hazard the latter, perhaps both." The priest stated in a way that was neither flirting not flattery. Merely a statement. "Of course it does help to have regular customers as I understand it." Silver pools slid aside to where the men in the corner continued to speak their hushed words.