Intro to BelleFleur....
After nearly a week’s journey on foot, you finally reach the end of the thick woods that connect the country of Eoduun and Bellefleur. It is almost deafening, the silence that consumes woods, and you find yourself grateful to hear the quiet hum of bees in the prim rose bushes that dot the beginning of the countryside. There are a few weeping willows here and there, mostly on the edges of the clear blue river that trickles down the mountains on the other side of Bellefluer, cutting through Bellefluer’s vast green countryside, and winding its way through the forest until you reach Eoduun. Those mountains gave way to many stories, some from childhood, and some you would hear in taverns where many a man was eager to tell his own journey’s tale. All of them always had one thing in common about the mountains, other than the river, that is. They all told of a great black dragon, with eyes the color of rubies, and many smaller black dragons that supposedly inhibited the caves up in the rocky terrain. While the river does make its way through Eoduun as well, it is obvious to you that the water here is much cleaner. You stretch, and continue your journey into this seemingly fertile country, searching for the heart of it, which is rumored to be a great ball of mist.
Most of your morning is spent admiring the various flowers, fruit trees, vineyards and small towns that you pass through as you make your way on. Finally you can just make out the rumored mists, as you get through Clementine, the last town you have marked on your map. Lush, green, rolling hills surrounded the large misted area in Bellefleur. During late morning, when the sun was almost at its noon position, the mists that covered the misted area would almost seem as if they had been sliced through, like a warm loaf of bread. In those clear, sliced through sections of the mists, you could catch a glimpse of a stoned castle, which seemed to be larger than the enormous mountains that stood way on the backline of the hills of Bellefleur. Parts of the tower seemed to stretch way up, the towers sometimes piercing through the clouds above that dotted the vast amount of clear blue sky. Other parts were ominously tall, and seemed it would take many wars to even begin to break at the huge silver-stoned walls. In seasons such as the current Spring, you could sometimes see the vine that climbed the towers and walls, except it was not its usual deep mossy green, for it was covered in butter-cream yellow and serene lavender flowers, all the way up until you lost sight of where it led into the sky.
Then at noon, the castle would filly into sight, as the mists dissipated, as if they never were. You’d have to shake your head, to remind yourself that they were indeed there just moments prior, and this monstrously large yet astoundingly beautiful structure was just cloaked within it. You could see the large stained glass windows, with images in the same butter-cream yellows and soft lavenders, of the beautiful flowers that clung to the castle itself. There was no gate, no stone wall, but there was a wide moat that surrounded the castle, its waters a mirrored clear blue of the sky above. One couldn’t tell if there was a back entrance, but right in front of you, was a large draw bridge, coming down slowly, as if those inside the castle knew you were coming.
As you cross the large, deep mahogany colored wooden drawbridge, you can start to smell the sweet, sensual scent of the flowers. It is intoxicating, leaving you to feel almost as if you had been drinking the sweetest wine, and you have no will power to turn around, only the want for more of what is in front of you. A dozen or so men on either side are atop of beautiful Arabian horses, all of them black as the cloak that Death himself would wear. They all had on great armor, of some unknown metal, that gleamed bright in the direct sun, and were all well equipped with various swords and shields. Two men on either side of both the edge of the drawbridge and the silver stoned walk held standards that seemed to float in the breeze, the cloth being the same shade of silver that the stones you walked on and the stones that made the great castle in front of you. Upon it was the symbol of a mighty black dragon. It’s mouth was open, but instead of flames, those butter-cream and lavender flowers were stitched upon the standard instead, furling out until the very end of the standard.
You finally make your way to the top of two dozen stairs at the end of the walk that led you to the great doors, which seemed to be made of the same unknown metal as the men on the horses had been wearing. On either side of the door, once again, are two armored men, who simultaneously reach in and open the great doors for you. As soon as you step in, you stop yourself, looking at the grandeur of the castle itself. Unlike the silver stones that made up the outside of the castle, the walls of the great entrance room are a pale cream color, lined with filigree of gold at the edges of the top and bottom, and more prominently so In the corners. The ceiling seemed to be the sky, but yet it was not. It had the same blue as the sky outside, and the clouds rolled in time with the ones you could see outside the windows. The windows were not all stained glass you noted, these were clear, with the same golden filigree on the edges that lined the walls.
Men and women were coupled, talking sometimes one on one, sometimes in groups, all along the area of the room. The talk didn’t rise to a disturbing level though, but reminded you of the quiet hum of the bees that frequented the area during the season. At the opposite end of the room were two great golden doors, thrown open, and a butter-cream rug rolled down the hall and stretched up what seemed to be a small handful of stairs, and at the top, were two great thrones. As you walked closer, you noted once again the lavender flowers on the edge of the butter-cream rug. They were incorporated everywhere, almost, it seemed. Half way down the hall, you note once again there are people talking, some sitting on chase lounges, some standing and picking dark grapes from golden bowls that sat upon tall golden stands. You glance back up at the two thrones, the smaller of the two catching your eye first, for it is empty. It is a cream color, with very little golden detail to it, but a plush seat with the velvet cushion the same color tone as the gold filigree. Your eyes wander to the greater throne, and you note it is made of the same cream color, but it has a good amount of gold detailing worked all over it, and this throne was occupied.
Queen Marie Luxueux sat calmly upon the large throne, almost engulfed by it’s enormous frame. Her long hair was dark, almost black, but you could see the mahogany brown if the sun hit it just right through the windows. She wore a great gown of pale pink, the kind you saw on the primrose bushes out on the hills outside. The upper bodice of the gown was so fitting to her figure and supple breasts that it seemed her to be her skin. Her skin was paler than the fresh milk you got from the countryside cows, and her lips were ever so slightly shaped into a quiet pout. Beside her was a cushion on another gold stand, atop it was a crown made of rose colored gold, with pastel jewels at every point. Her eyes were almost a whiskey brown in the sunlight, and seemed to be searching you down to your soul’s intent as you stood there in shock. Any other castle you had frequented, the larger throne was always occupied by a male ruler. Bellefleur was indeed a beautiful, floral country, and it had a castle that matched. This was indeed, a woman’s rule...
After nearly a week’s journey on foot, you finally reach the end of the thick woods that connect the country of Eoduun and Bellefleur. It is almost deafening, the silence that consumes woods, and you find yourself grateful to hear the quiet hum of bees in the prim rose bushes that dot the beginning of the countryside. There are a few weeping willows here and there, mostly on the edges of the clear blue river that trickles down the mountains on the other side of Bellefluer, cutting through Bellefluer’s vast green countryside, and winding its way through the forest until you reach Eoduun. Those mountains gave way to many stories, some from childhood, and some you would hear in taverns where many a man was eager to tell his own journey’s tale. All of them always had one thing in common about the mountains, other than the river, that is. They all told of a great black dragon, with eyes the color of rubies, and many smaller black dragons that supposedly inhibited the caves up in the rocky terrain. While the river does make its way through Eoduun as well, it is obvious to you that the water here is much cleaner. You stretch, and continue your journey into this seemingly fertile country, searching for the heart of it, which is rumored to be a great ball of mist.
Most of your morning is spent admiring the various flowers, fruit trees, vineyards and small towns that you pass through as you make your way on. Finally you can just make out the rumored mists, as you get through Clementine, the last town you have marked on your map. Lush, green, rolling hills surrounded the large misted area in Bellefleur. During late morning, when the sun was almost at its noon position, the mists that covered the misted area would almost seem as if they had been sliced through, like a warm loaf of bread. In those clear, sliced through sections of the mists, you could catch a glimpse of a stoned castle, which seemed to be larger than the enormous mountains that stood way on the backline of the hills of Bellefleur. Parts of the tower seemed to stretch way up, the towers sometimes piercing through the clouds above that dotted the vast amount of clear blue sky. Other parts were ominously tall, and seemed it would take many wars to even begin to break at the huge silver-stoned walls. In seasons such as the current Spring, you could sometimes see the vine that climbed the towers and walls, except it was not its usual deep mossy green, for it was covered in butter-cream yellow and serene lavender flowers, all the way up until you lost sight of where it led into the sky.
Then at noon, the castle would filly into sight, as the mists dissipated, as if they never were. You’d have to shake your head, to remind yourself that they were indeed there just moments prior, and this monstrously large yet astoundingly beautiful structure was just cloaked within it. You could see the large stained glass windows, with images in the same butter-cream yellows and soft lavenders, of the beautiful flowers that clung to the castle itself. There was no gate, no stone wall, but there was a wide moat that surrounded the castle, its waters a mirrored clear blue of the sky above. One couldn’t tell if there was a back entrance, but right in front of you, was a large draw bridge, coming down slowly, as if those inside the castle knew you were coming.
As you cross the large, deep mahogany colored wooden drawbridge, you can start to smell the sweet, sensual scent of the flowers. It is intoxicating, leaving you to feel almost as if you had been drinking the sweetest wine, and you have no will power to turn around, only the want for more of what is in front of you. A dozen or so men on either side are atop of beautiful Arabian horses, all of them black as the cloak that Death himself would wear. They all had on great armor, of some unknown metal, that gleamed bright in the direct sun, and were all well equipped with various swords and shields. Two men on either side of both the edge of the drawbridge and the silver stoned walk held standards that seemed to float in the breeze, the cloth being the same shade of silver that the stones you walked on and the stones that made the great castle in front of you. Upon it was the symbol of a mighty black dragon. It’s mouth was open, but instead of flames, those butter-cream and lavender flowers were stitched upon the standard instead, furling out until the very end of the standard.
You finally make your way to the top of two dozen stairs at the end of the walk that led you to the great doors, which seemed to be made of the same unknown metal as the men on the horses had been wearing. On either side of the door, once again, are two armored men, who simultaneously reach in and open the great doors for you. As soon as you step in, you stop yourself, looking at the grandeur of the castle itself. Unlike the silver stones that made up the outside of the castle, the walls of the great entrance room are a pale cream color, lined with filigree of gold at the edges of the top and bottom, and more prominently so In the corners. The ceiling seemed to be the sky, but yet it was not. It had the same blue as the sky outside, and the clouds rolled in time with the ones you could see outside the windows. The windows were not all stained glass you noted, these were clear, with the same golden filigree on the edges that lined the walls.
Men and women were coupled, talking sometimes one on one, sometimes in groups, all along the area of the room. The talk didn’t rise to a disturbing level though, but reminded you of the quiet hum of the bees that frequented the area during the season. At the opposite end of the room were two great golden doors, thrown open, and a butter-cream rug rolled down the hall and stretched up what seemed to be a small handful of stairs, and at the top, were two great thrones. As you walked closer, you noted once again the lavender flowers on the edge of the butter-cream rug. They were incorporated everywhere, almost, it seemed. Half way down the hall, you note once again there are people talking, some sitting on chase lounges, some standing and picking dark grapes from golden bowls that sat upon tall golden stands. You glance back up at the two thrones, the smaller of the two catching your eye first, for it is empty. It is a cream color, with very little golden detail to it, but a plush seat with the velvet cushion the same color tone as the gold filigree. Your eyes wander to the greater throne, and you note it is made of the same cream color, but it has a good amount of gold detailing worked all over it, and this throne was occupied.
Queen Marie Luxueux sat calmly upon the large throne, almost engulfed by it’s enormous frame. Her long hair was dark, almost black, but you could see the mahogany brown if the sun hit it just right through the windows. She wore a great gown of pale pink, the kind you saw on the primrose bushes out on the hills outside. The upper bodice of the gown was so fitting to her figure and supple breasts that it seemed her to be her skin. Her skin was paler than the fresh milk you got from the countryside cows, and her lips were ever so slightly shaped into a quiet pout. Beside her was a cushion on another gold stand, atop it was a crown made of rose colored gold, with pastel jewels at every point. Her eyes were almost a whiskey brown in the sunlight, and seemed to be searching you down to your soul’s intent as you stood there in shock. Any other castle you had frequented, the larger throne was always occupied by a male ruler. Bellefleur was indeed a beautiful, floral country, and it had a castle that matched. This was indeed, a woman’s rule...