Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

Desrium pulled his sight from the far reaches off the ship's stern to the much closer knight. He put his thoughts on hold, to revisit them later in meditation perhaps. "Is there something the matter?" he asked Andruil, true to his reputation as a benefactor.

[The Kingpin]

"Something the matter? Not at all, my friend. I just thought now would be a good time to make use of the relative peace to speak," said the Knight matter-of-factly as he swung one leg up over the side of the ship, putting his back against the rise in the side where the main deck ended and the quarterdeck began. His other leg hung idly as he crossed his arms and sat back, relishing the cool evening breeze as the vessel continued to accelerate.

"You seem to have been apart from your old friend for a while. I have been told of his stories and where he's been, but you weren't with him in many of the recent ones. If it is not out of turn for me to ask, did something happen to cause this parting of ways?" he inquired

[C S]

"In the most literal of senses, yes," was Desrium's answer. He looked back over the sands. It appeared that the dunes grew larger and larger the farther away from the ship they were, their tops higher than many grassy hills. The ones closer rushed by with the Dunefox's heading, creating the illusion of rolling waves when parallax dragged the sandy ridges past one another. Of course, atop Septimus' shoulders, much of the desert looked like lines of frozen waves. The exceptions that he was immediately aware of were Thimeyra and Her oasis.

"I had been away from Septimus for some time in the course of my duty as Justicar, and Champion of Moria. I saw to it that he would be sent back here, to Aster, and be rid of the burden of fighting the forces of the demonic." His metal shoulders sagged, as if they were beset by a weight that not even his strength could support.

"My brief reunion with him came after the liberation of the land, which seemed to have been responsible for incurring the wrath of some of the most ancient powers that dwell on... or within, rather, this world. Valenhad was not the first to suspect me of agendas of ruin because of these ensuing events that I am sure Septimus has told you about. We sought the revered Life Bringer for guidance as to how balance could be restored to the world, but not even she could provide us with a definite path to follow."

Desrium lowered his head as he spoke his last words, "That is why I parted ways with Septimus yet again. Aster was in a time of crisis, and much had changed since I last traveled these lands. I needed to act, and I did not want Septimus to be drawn into this lengthy campaign of mine. Though the threat of a primordial uprising has passed, Brodudika is the beginning of a contingency for such scenarios. It is an initiative for Aster's own to defend it in its most dire times, like the Justicars of Tyrbenetus."

Perhaps one day, the Asterian chapter would unite with their one-time idol again.

[Hopeflower]

"Stealing, sunshine?"

Rowan's question was neutral, but it came from so close by that Vix just about jumped out of her skin. She snapped the old journal closed more quickly than was probably good for the pages or the spine. The innkeeper was halfway through the motion to hide the little book when the wording of the inquiry registered.

Well. What was she meant to say here?

While Vix tried to figure that one out, Rowan rolled her eyes and dropped the bundle of sticks she'd been carrying. They'd been on the road for a few hours, having left after Rowan stuck a note in the crack of Beckett's door. Signed simply with her initials, it had read only, He comes singing the song of broken swords and reforged daggers. A hint and a bit of warning, if he cared to decipher it, and though few knew it, a way for Akando to find his way to the house.

"I'm not going to yell at you, Vix," said the assassin, deciding the silence had stretched on for too long. She paced the small clearing they'd thought would make a good spot to rest for a while, then chose a spot that was more or less dry and knelt to start digging a fire pit. "I've been around too long to be surprised by these things anymore."

Vix released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The vapor that curled from her mouth and nose surprised her, as did the sudden shiver that traveled down her spine. She hadn't noticed just how cold she had gotten while she'd been absorbed in her reading. A dangerous mistake to make at this time of year. She carefully put the journal away and moved to help Rowan.

"I'm sorry," Vix blurted. "I just - I don't know what came over me. I couldn't leave it there."

Rowan didn't look up from their task. "I know."

"You...know?"

The older woman sighed and dusted her hands off on her jacket, then started to carefully arrange the tinder and larger pieces of wood. "You'd lost everything when we found you. I'm not heartless enough to take this away from you."

For some reason, that made Vix's throat tighten. She glanced at her bag as if to be sure no one had disturbed it. She didn't deserve the understanding Rowan was showing her. Her motives were selfish, her cause to learn more about herself - not to restore a piece of history to Aster. But then, maybe Rowan understood that, too.

"Thank you."

The words came in what was barely a choked whisper, but Rowan paused in tending the small flame she'd already kindled. She looked up, quietly studying Vix. She'd run out of what she wasn't even sure were the right words to say in this situation. Nothing in life had prepared her for this kind of conversation. But it was clear there should have been more to say in this situation, and so Rowan reached for Vix and drew the elf to her side. This was sort of familiar, despite the uncertain stiffening of Vix's spine. She could work with it.

They sat in silence for a little while, with Rowan occasionally shifting to put some more wood on the fire, before the assassin said, "I used to sit with Nick like this. He was a lot smaller, then, and he had a lot of trouble with nightmares. So we'd sit by the fireplace, and I'd do my best to get him to smile." She glanced over to see that Vix's expression had softened, the smallest smile curving her lips. "Like that," Rowan added, just to tease her a little. "He tried to make a game of keeping a straight face at first, but he always smiled for his favorite song."

"Which one is that?" Vix asked, tilting her head.

Instead of answering, Rowan hesitated. Before she could kick herself for doing so, so soon after everything she'd revealed, she started humming Zaltana's lullaby.

Vix listened in silence, surprised, but not about to ask questions. When the last note had died from Rowan's throat, she found herself unexpectedly touched by the moment.

"That's a beautiful song," she commented softly.

Rowan wasn't sure how well she did at keeping her own smile from verging on bittersweet. "It's a beautiful memory." She caught Vix's gaze and held it, trying to impress on her the seriousness of her next statement. "Our history is as precious as it is terrible, Vix. Nobody worth listening to will judge you for holding on to what you have."


With a rustling that was entirely too loud for Arsenic's liking, snow and leaves gave way beneath his foot, sending him scrambling to find purchase on the icy slope. The assassin cursed inwardly, freezing in place while he waited to see if he'd brought any animals running. He was cold, he was sore, and his clumsy approach had almost certainly alerted any non-hibernating predator that might have taken shelter in the deep burrow they were approaching. It had taken him and Rutgers this long to find it. As much as Arsenic would have liked to boast that his memory of the forest was perfect, with deep snow covering so many familiar landmarks, it was very easy for even the most adventurous villagers to get turned around. And so, after a couple of wrong turns and more than a few similar near-injuries, they were looking up at one of the most likely spots for a gang of cold-blooded predators to be hiding in this weather.

Everything seemed too still, too quiet, though it was anyone's guess if that was the snowy forest playing tricks on his senses or the presence of hunters scaring off any smaller animals. The mute elf wasn't sure what the plan was if they happened to find what they were looking for.

[C S]

"Get low to the ground when you can't trust it. Harder to fall that way," came Rutgers' silent advice. There was a strange calmness to him as he stepped around Arsenic with a little more care than usual now that he knew the snow wasn't solidly packed on this dip. Stray sunlight did not reach far past the treetops, instead it diffused through the leaves to cast the forest floor in a dim, yellowish haze. That did not help matters much, yet the axeman was collected in all facets. Where Arsenic could not gauge the danger, Rutgers did, owing to his years as an outdoorsman. There was no need for alarm just yet, and he let his demeanor speak to that fact.

If Arsenic had as keen a sense of smell as Sami's he would have known what the axeman had grown to learn over time: bearing the blood of fiends was a potent deterrent for most things, except the horrid beasts themselves.

Though he saw no need to fear just yet, Rutgers was nothing if not cautious. As he walked down the incline, he had his hands resting on the handles of the axes on his legs.



Behind the mountains of the dissolved province, the sun had already sunk. Dusk was already upon the city even though the glow of the light blue and pinkish sky would argue otherwise. The lanterns held high by the street posts were being lit by the torches of the patrolling guards while weary people done with their day's tasks walked the pavement back to their homes. The chaotic roads were much less chaotic as the day wound down, and though there were still those that opposed the night and worked through the subsequent darkness, the clamor that was known as Brodudika was steadily and decisively quieting.

At first, the blooms of fire were distant dots to her elevated eyes. One would appear and then there was a pause that lasted as long as it took the guard to reach the next streetlight. One by one they appeared, and in short order the lamps filled each row and avenue with light. This was what it looked like to them, Dahnae figured.

She was outside one of the monolithic dark-bricked buildings of the upper district, not far from her school in actuality. The tips of her shoes were perched on the very nose of the carved dragon's fierce countenance, her arms were folded over her bent knees and her chin rested atop of them. To stand on Greshlynk would be some form of high heresy in the old regime, but Dahnae wasn't exactly standing atop of the figurehead, was she? It was more of a squat, really, on the very edge of the carving on the very tips of her toes. Her coat ruffled around her small frame when the cold, peak-born winds raced over the city.

Outside of walls and windows, higher than most would dare, she saw the nightwatch darting from rooftop to rooftop, and she took note of these volunteer warriors of the lamplight. Not because of their deeds without reward, but rather their routes. If she was going to be peddling packages around the city, she was not going to deal with her earlier hassle. That was an ordeal for someone who couldn't run across sheer surfaces and jump tens of feet into the air with a good leap. These people, at least, knew how to get around.

She would observe with fire dancing in her amber eyes until she could stand the chill no more. At that point, the boardinghouse's hearth would beckon too strongly.

On the other side of the incomplete walls, Evisa lied on a weathered rock. Her helmet was against her side as she sat there, underneath the edge of a clearing, starlight twinkling over her bright floating hair. She had a hand out behind her to keep her back propped up some, and the viking thought. She was thinking for a long time with a stern, set expression. She stared out into the trees, and continued to ponder what she was going to do with her flock. This entire day she could have been teaching, but she chose to spend it surveying the area.

Brodudika did not have any caves nearby, she knew that for sure. Trees? Yes, and quite a number of them at that. Boulders? She was resting on one, a shining light underneath the the branches. A few small creeks? Scattered about and out of the way, but there. Caves? At the base of the mountains far away. It would be one killer commute, going through the city, and then the woods, just to reach those rocks. She didn't consider it on principle; she wasn't going to send the young ones all the way there, after all it took to get them to the metal one's city.

What to do, what to do; that was the real question of the hour. It was the question of the day in all respects, but it seemed much more pressing in this one hour than anything else. In the moment that she felt most lost on the subject, something caught her eye. Evisa shot upright and sat rigid, ready for a fight. She was just seconds away from slapping on that bladed helmet and bellowing her right as Novarah to whatever it was that was out there.

There was no need as it turned out. She watched the small, six-limbed critter glide down from the barren treetop, slumped forward and feeling particularly sheepish. At least no one saw the viking get up in arms over... that. It seemed some blend between a cat and a squirrel, if only vaguely. It had a reddish tint to its fur, and hints of white intermingling across its back. Before it landed on the snow, the creature was riding on two sets of wings made of stretchy, thinly furred skin on the forelimbs and the hind ones, with the middle two tucked underneath its stomach. Upon landing, the wings retracted into the creature's body, and it proceeded to scramble over the ground in a way reminiscent of a bat.

Evisa cocked her head when it stopped at a specific spot. There, she saw that its other arms were hugging a collection of nuts and fruit to its stomach, the last forage of the season, she thought. The creature started swiping its paws at the snow, and after a little wait, it revealed a small den dug into the frozen soil. Before it slipped into its home, the creature sat back on its haunches and looked the viking in the eyes, long whiskers sailing through the air in much the same way as her own hair. Without a sound, it dipped down and disappeared into the burrow.

Evisa blinked her eyes with some mild surprise, maybe confusion, then smiled.

"Ah, of course."

If she couldn't find a cave for the young, they would make their own. It would be an exciting exercise for those made of stone and soil, no doubt. Evisa took her helmet and stood up, and then bowed her head in thanks to the small creature in the ground. With her plan set, it was time to head back into the city.

[Hopeflower]

Arsenic sent a wordless acknowledgement, not bothering to point out that this deep into the woods, one could take all the care in the world and it would make little difference. There was no such thing as secure footing. Loose soil and leaves would have been bad enough. Add ice and snow, and they were lucky neither of them had broken an ankle.

With a last inward growl at himself, Arsenic managed to pick his way along the forest floor to the bottom of the dip in the earth. When it began to warm up again, this spot would flood with water cold enough for an unfortunate explorer to catch their death if they fell in. It was something to make a note of and speak to Akando and Dante about later. For now, there was the climb up the opposite slope to consider. It was gentler than the one they'd just come down, so it was very likely that they'd have been spotted by now.

As if to confirm the thought, a rattling snarl came from within. A pair of gleaming eyes caught the light, bobbed up and down a few times as though their owner was sizing the intruders up, and the snarl was repeated. The sentry was alone, it seemed, and - judging from the height of the pair of eyes - considerably smaller than Sami was. The agitated Oniare lunged as if to chase them off, then drew back, away from the cold breeze. Even clinging to the shadows farther into the burrow as it did, it was apparent that its movements were sluggish. Not at all like the quick, fluid motion of the one Rutgers had fought.

Arsenic reluctantly put away the adatas he'd instinctively shaken out of their sheath. Much as he didn't like this, and it was more than evident that there were probably more Oniare deeper in, this sentry was no threat. Not at the moment, anyway. The elf glanced at Rutgers, silently questioning what their next move was.

[C S]

The man had slowed to a halt over the course of the threat display. The sound of his mind became a jumble of study and formulation as he made sense of what he was seeing. For one, it meant that Sami was not unique in her being awake during this time. It was something he needed to see to confirm, and in some way, the sentry made the task of finding an Oniare nesting site easier. Its presence was also a cause for worry, even though it was in no condition to fight.

If the Oniare were not all connected, and these had no idea who Arsenic was...

"Keep your face scarce," Rutgers warned, the previous calmness beginning to fade with the implications of this encounter. For Arsenic, it could mean another bunch of angry reptiles wanting him dead. For the axeman himself... angry reptiles, on top of the dregs of humanity.

[Hopeflower]

No sooner had Arsenic given a short, tense nod and woven a simple illusion - just enough of one to make his features indistinct to the creature they faced - than the sentry puffed air from its nose and uttered a long, rattling hiss. The sound brought to mind an image of being stalked through a forest much like this one, in a time long before living memory. Arsenic dug his heels into the snow against the urge to throw a weapon and run.

A second pair of eyes joined the first. This Oniare was bigger, but not by much. It chittered shortly at the first, which turned and scurried deeper into the burrow, and seemed to plant itself directly between the men and the way to the rest of its clan. The apparent leader was little more than a darker shadow that possessed a pair of brilliant amber eyes.

For a long, tense moment, it seemed this one - no doubt warmer than the other, after resting among other bodies and away from the cave entrance - would attack. Then he spoke quietly, but with the unmistakable authority of one who had earned his place as leader, and with a voice that rasped more harshly than Sami's did. "There is nothing for you here."

[C S]

"Agreed," replied the axeman with an odd easiness, not for lack of fear, but for the many times in which he stowed that voice of reason deep down in the pits of his being for later anxiety. In truth, there was something else with him in the moment. The one he had slain had said something along the same line.

"Go home, human."

He would listen this time around. All the same, perhaps it was already too late.

[Hopeflower]

The Oniare's gaze fixed on Rutgers with all of the intensity one would expect from a hunter. He puffed in much the same way the sentry had. This human was quicker to back down than most the reptilian had met. Too quick. Complying. Why?

The leader's tongue flicked in and out rapidly. The warm-blood came reeking of blood and abominations, and of another clan of Oniare. The reptilian chittered his agitation and scraped his claws over the floor of the burrow. Still, though he could very well have, he did not attack. They were too close to a warm-blood settlement for disappearances to go unnoticed.

And, in a twist that was beyond strange, the human seemed to have the protection of a rival family.

"Go in peace," the Oniare hissed, "and do not return."

Arsenic tucked that reaction away to wonder about later. For now, it was time to do as told and count themselves lucky that neither of them had been mauled. Without turning his back to the reptilian, he started to make his way along the gully in the direction of the village.

[C S]

Rutgers nodded but lingered just a moment longer just to make sure that the Oniare was not being disingenuous. Killing them would have been a far easier feat if they were foolish enough to lay down their guard, the cold of the coming night be damned. The former ranger was prepared to hold off an impending sneak attack if it meant the mute elf had that much longer to make his escape. "Mind your footing," he reminded Arsenic, for now was not the time to stumble.

The axeman then started off on his own deliberate exit when he sensed that his delay was bordering on provocative. He kept a shoulder to the Oniare den, and the opening in his periphery as he too went through the trench.

By time they found their way back to the village, the dead of night was upon them. The darkness of the forest was an unsettling, ominous thing. It seemed to mar the path they walked, the snow conspiring with it to make the trek treacherous and at the same time, preserve the journey for others to follow. The familiar scenery of the wall and the small houses on the other side did little to bring comfort underneath a cloudy sky that hid the moon and stars.

Rutgers sat atop the thickest part of a branch high up in one of his usual trees and was peering out into the rolling turmoil. His pelt was pulled tight around his shoulders. More likely than not, it was going to be a rough night. Just another storm to weather, and with any luck, there wouldn't be an actual storm to contend with too soon.


As sure as ever, daybreak arrived. The clouds had reached as far as Brodudika, so dawn over the city was a diffused silver gloom. Droplets of rain fell haphazardly onto the roofs and sluggish streets. It was a particularly cold morning, and even the most energetic and ambitious of folk begrudgingly left the doors of their homes in bundles of fabric and fur.

A glance out of the boardinghouse window was all Dahnae had to spare for such a lackluster morning. All she needed to see were the splashes across the glass to decide her place for some time would be, once again, planted right in front of the fire in the hearth. Maybe hunger would get her to move, but she would rather be hungry than cold. Maybe she could pester some of the other mages at the school for some fire magic when it was break time. After she made her deliveries.

That was going to be a pain if the weather didn't improve.

Evisa, on the other hand, could not be more pleased. Aside from the fond memories of home that the gray-dawn brought her, such as carrying a log over her shoulders up a snowbank as strength training, it meant that the streets were more sparse than they usually were at this hour. That meant there was less chance for some complication in her brilliant plan: a field day for the young elementals.

She looked back from the gate of city hall and did another count to make sure that they were all lined up and ready to move, the big and the small. They were waiting patiently for the most part, except for those whose nature revolved around flame. They currently looked indistinguishable from their stony brothers, some bearing dark striated rock for skin, or rocks riddled with crystalline structures. Their inner fire churned beneath their cooled exteriors, agitated by the water falling from the sky.

The rocky giant did not mind it at all, both the rain and the fact that the fire elementals were using him as shelter, as they had used the cavern before Desrium found them. The beings of ice were likewise right at home in winter's chill, though their more fluid cousins had to stave off freezing through being idle.

"Alright, that seems to be the lot of you," Evisa said before beckoning the group to follow after her. For the second time, the elementals marched, moving single file out of city hall. Or mostly so; the earthen giant went out of his way to shield the rocky flames.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

Amidst the lazy pace of the city walked a newcomer to Brodudika; a woman, clad in garb one could only describe as fit for an adventurer. Leather armor clung to most of the woman's body, accentuating her slim frame. Atop this, the newcomer wore a long, sanguine coat that skirted the ground as she walked, along with a wide-brimmed hat of matching nature. Perhaps her most striking feature was her height; easily surpassing six feet, she was undeniable tall for a mere human. She strode with calm purpose towards the city's vast hall, her hands in her pockets.

Passing the assembled elementals and their would-be shepherd, it seemed at first as though the woman would pay them no mind; at the last moment, however, she threw them a hard glance, as if in quiet disapproval, before heading inside.

[C S]

The viking at the head of the pack missed the fleeting moment. Though short her time was in the city, she had seen a multitude of faces and attire all the same. What would be noteworthy by itself was just about as close to ordinary as the city got. The extent of Evisa's reaction to the newcomer was an appreciation for her leather gear, along with the wonder as to why anyone would need to wear anything else. She did not acknowledge her bias. The curious elementals watched the adventurer go, perplexed and curious. Evisa's leadership was not something they wished to upend, lest she demonstrate her inhuman affinity for the physical. They kept in line, funneling out of the courtyard in full.

The line at the long table was nonexistent at this time. The representatives of their respective parties had not long before taken their seats, so they were sorting out their notifications, rustling papers and aligning their edges as business people tended to do. Stacks of envelopes were nearby, the official city seal an eye-catching crimson underneath the chandelier hanging over the center of the room.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

The woman looked around as she entered, eyeing each of the representatives. Each seemed specialized in their own right, and although she truthfully did not have a preference, she found herself deciding on a burly man at the center of the hall as her first approach.

"Greetings," she announced in a level tone as she drew near, taking her hands out of her pockets. "I am in need of work, and I've heard that this city has become a hub for all manner of requests." The woman cast her gaze along the tables. "I take it I've come to the right place?" she asked, bringing her eyes back to the man before her.

[C S]

The burly man, true to his grizzled appearance, was not one to circumvent the matter with formalities. He nodded and made a grunt of affirmation. His choice of dress, compared to most, was plain. One wouldn't receive any blame for thinking he was better off in the woodland cutting down trees with a trusty axe than handing out assignments, however, it was for that very reason that he was stationed at this guild hall of sorts.

"I've got to wonder, though," came his gravelly voice as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't mean to judge the right and willing, but this line of work seems a bit... out of your element."

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

The woman gave a slight smile.

"I know I may not look it, but I am quite experienced in combat. You could say I am a mercenary of sorts."

[C S]

The man did not offer an argument. "If you can fight, you can fight," he said, trusting the stranger to know her limits. He drew an envelope from the stack and handed it over the table to the woman. "Make sure to come back," said the representative of the everyman's guard. Anyone who chose to build their bodies in such a way could be a warrior, a hero even. The services he stood for were venues for anyone who did not want to enlist as a soldier or officer to be accomplished in mind and body.

The emphasis on the newcomer's return wasn't just a phrase to part ways on, as with a shop or something similar. It was literal; there were faces the man had come to know that hadn't turned up for quite some time now.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

The woman took the envelope with a nod.

"Thank you," she said simply, turning and making her way back outside of the hall and into the rain, the envelope placed neatly in one of her pockets.

[C S]

When she got the chance to read her assignment, the adventurer embarked out of the city following the guild's reports of suspicious activities involving lesser drakes. There were sightings of individuals who did not fit the bill of the usual mercenary, but instead slayers and poachers. These were the sort that carried blades far too long and far too wide to be used against another fighter, and the sort whose bows were more like mobile ballista launchers, being as tall as the ones who wielded them and firing just as fearsome ammunition. Their armament being so unconventional and distinct, it was very easy for Brodudika's sources to catch wind of less than honest dealings in a nearby small settlement known as Ichdale.

The walk lasted a few hours by the roads intermingling in the forests. Signs dotted the way and marked forks in the route, and following them brought the adventurer to the less than impressive boundary of Ichdale. While most places were locked behind tall fences and gates, Ichdale's gates were framed by hedges and flowerbeds.

The whole town was very arboreal. Evergreens stood tall around the homes and stores, and the place was bright with colorful decorations. It was apparently a very festive time here. People were out and about, and guards lazed about near the entrance. It was disarmingly placid, this place suspected of harboring those who would covet the proud and scaled beasts of legend.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

The woman's eyes scanned her surroundings as she approached, taking in every detail. The ordinary nature of the place was hardly surprising; if these people truly were up to unsavory acts, they would hardly settle in a place that screamed their status as dissenters to the heavens. It was better to hide in plain sight than to arouse suspicion with every action - a concept she knew very well.

If she had infinite time and patience, perhaps she could integrate with the populace and learn through slight hearsay and rumor where her quarry might be. Unfortunately, she had neither, and chose instead to approach the guards on the outskirts of town and make her intentions known immediately. If the guards were not in league with the poachers, they could only assist in her efforts to find them. If they were, her quarry would find her soon enough.

"Excuse me," the woman called as she approached two uniformed guards along the city's limits. "Would either of you happen to know anything about drake poaching in this region?"