Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

"There was a time when I did that often," reflected Matthias thoughtfully. "I would laugh at some of the simplest pleasures in life. Even something as inconsequential as a clown performing in the street could get me smiling," he added, thinking back to just one such performance, shortly after his return from Germania, seeing a clown dressed as a Germanian cleric and making a fool of himself. It had had him all but literally in tears, as he had been dealing with the actual Germanian clerics for a week prior, with all their absurdity.

"I should smile more often," he stated, more to himself than anyone else. "I don't do that enough anymore."

[C S]

"Aye. I was following in your example when I took up this frame of mind, you know," said Urlox, smiling as he did as if joy was infectious. "I remember the days when I was younger. I wasted those days being too grim, in all 'onesty. If it wasn't making sure I was in top form to kill, it was the actual killing that got me down. You were the one that made things a little more bearable, and after we went our different ways... I couldn't let myself slip anymore. So I started smiling."

[The Kingpin]

"Ironic, isn't it? Just as the world turns and changes, so do those living in it. We're like two ends of the same wheel. It rolls on one side, covers it in dirt when the other is clean. Then, the clean gets dirty and the dirty clean, each showing the results of it," pondered the Wanderer as he tipped back a bottle of ale in hand. It was a lighter brew, but one that helped ease the tangled mess of nerves and stress he'd become lately.

[C S]

"I'd say we're both in the mud, Matt. We just don't mind it as much because our minds are so far gone, we're talking about wheels while dressed like deckhands!" Urlox guffawed, and held his sides while he gradually doubled over with his laughter.

[The Kingpin]

Matthias chuckled at that. A low, throaty sound that seemed somehow alien to his own ears. Oh how long it had been. In this moment, he didn't care. He just enjoyed the amusement. "Serves me right for trying to share literature with a grunt, eh?" he stated, laughing at the thought himself.

[C S]

Urlox's laughter prevented him from saying anything approaching sense, though the man did try a few times. After tiring of his words being broken into syllables further muddled by his laughing, he said, "You can share it 'owever you wish, lad. Just know that I will not stop meself from laughing if I see reason to."


Back in Brodudika, things were starting early.

Over where the buildings were not as tall, where those who navigated the rooftops were at a disadvantage keeping themselves hidden, Snicker aimed to reign over the hour. It was clear the patrols were splintered somehow. There were all sorts of neat patches in where the eyes of order peered, and with the troublesome force of the faceless bested by architectural design choices... there was a saying about the best laid plans. Poor management, or deliberate sabotage, it didn't really matter, did it? This was the lay of the land, the rules of the dark.

This hunt wasn't exactly nature's plan but... then again, neither was He.

Little, little lambs tucked away in their small homes. Pleasant firelight turned their windows the color of honey, which spilled out on to the bricks of the paths outside. Against the darkening sky, rimmed with the last daylight over the faraway peaks, it was nothing short of beauty. These people who once lived such hard lives must have been so grateful for what they had now.

Perhaps a good fire would remind them how perilously unstable their joy was. A happy neighborhood blaze that wipes out an entire street!

No no. Not fire. That's what they did to Him. He would never approve of appropriated jokes, not even those made in spite! Something else had to be done. Something clever, and heartfelt. Something that could make a heart stop. These were the thoughts of Snicker, a figure in dressing far too thin for the winter. Snicker went through the residential streets of Brodudika like a wraith from a forbidden wood, without a single care for the bite of cold on the skin. The fabric of the cloak was as light as the shadows themselves, passing in front of the fire-lit windows.

That was it. Any old hack could set a torch to timber and watch things fall apart, the screaming in the smoke. It took true finesse to enter a home uninvited, without stirring a hair on anyone's head, without making a peep for their ears to hear. It took something of another quality to thoroughly terrorize everyone inside without dragging the neighbors into the fun. Yet still, another merit was needed to leave everyone silent, smiling, and slain by daylight, proving that generous housing and resplendent guards were not enough to keep people safe. The fear in the city needed to match the fear elsewhere in what used to be Draxon, without any tranquil havens to get away from the inhuman streets that took lives in the middle of the night.

It was the vision that the Snake had seen in his enlightenment. All the things people associated with madness and depravity were not things staved off by the farce that was order. All those amazing aspects were what came naturally. Trying to impose system and organization... that was where the true madness laid! It was enough to make one chuckle.

Or Snicker. Chuckle was off planning something else. The others were all planning something else.

Their plans wouldn't be as good, Snicker was sure of it.


What Snicker did not consider in their plans was Dahnae's propensity to explore past the threshold of safety, and the embodiment of her jungle cat nature that made doing so in silence her special talent. The girl in question was on the other side of the street, and had been there for some time, listening to the mutterings of the cloaked person with her keen ears. It was those keen ears that made her deviate from her usual wandering to look at how people jumped through the air. She kept her profile low to the ground, creeping on her tiptoes and fingertips, and lingered a little behind Snicker so that she was always in the shadow the stranger cast, passing the streetlamps and windows.

Snicker turned a corner around a row of hardy plants and Dahnae marveled. The moon was caught in between the shapes of two houses, as if placed there with a painter's deliberate hand. It shone in such a way that the cloaked figure seemed to glow with blue-silver. After a short, quiet gasp, Dahnae rubbed her nose to keep it warm, in turn keeping the possibility of it falling off at bay. Then it was off to keep up with Snicker, or, as Dahnae had come to think of the stranger: "Weirdo Spook".

[The Kingpin]

"I suppose that's all I can hope for from a man whose laughter is as iconic as his beard...and his penchant for blood pudding," jabbed Matthias as he downed the last of his drink in one gulp, momentarily lamenting the disappointing size of the serving. Oh how he missed the ales of Riverdale.

[C S]

"Forgetting 'ow 'e eats 'is 'H's like rations!" Urlox said proudly. "And if we 'adn't 'id our things again, you wouldn't be so likely to forget 'is sword, either!"

[Hopeflower]

'So you left because mom found out she was going to have another kid...is that about right?' Arsenic asked after a short silence.

Viho's pause would probably have been even more telling if he could see his father's face. "Yes. I...had enough difficulty trying to adjust to being a father to one child. Two was not something I felt I could handle."

'She was never the same after you left, you know.'

This time Viho flinched and remained silent.

Arsenic pushed onward, anger and bitterness welling up and spilling over into the words he'd wanted to hurl at Viho since earlier that day. 'Mom died still thinking you were going to come back. I told her that you knew she was hurt and that you were on your way home. I lied to her just to give her a little peace.' His lip curled into a snarl that his father couldn't see. 'What ten-year-old should ever have to do that?'

Viho swallowed the reflexive "I'm sorry". There was nothing he could say, no magic combination of words that would make everything alright. Still, he had to say something. "You've done much that you shouldn't have had to," he said. "And you've experienced grief that few children do. You have every right to hate me, Arsenic."

'Hate is putting it mildly.'

"I know."

They were quiet for a few minutes.

"I don't suppose you'd take kindly to me telling you that I'm proud of you."

It was Arsenic's turn to flinch. 'Don't - '

Viho pressed on, "You've grown into an accomplished psychomancer and a skilled fighter. I'd wager you're as good at hitting prey with that bow of yours as you are at hitting your marks." He glanced over his shoulder again, his gray eyes unreadable. "Your mother would be proud of you, too."

'Don't you dare pretend that this changes anything,' Arsenic snarled, bristling - retreating behind the shield of his anger, so he didn't have to feel the impact of those words right now. 'I've done all of that without a father. I sure as hell don't need one now.'

"No," Viho said almost agreeably, "I didn't expect that you would. But it needed to be said."


"Yes." Vix hummed her appreciation, unconsciously reaching out with her free hand to play with Andruil's hair. For just a second, they could have been back at the inn, with nothing more pressing than when Vix would need to start making dinner to worry about. "In between working, she'd wax poetic about everything from the wildflowers to the ocean to the mountains she could barely see from her window, and promise me we'd go traveling one day. And dad was all for me getting to see the biggest cities, learning my way around them."

Rowan squeezed her gently when Vix's shoulders sank in a silent sigh. "I'd say that sounds more than doable," she said, keeping her voice light. "If that's still something you want to do, I mean."

Vix blew on the surface of her tea to cool it, and to give herself a little time to think. Seeing these things wouldn't be the same, but surely her parents wouldn't want her to deny herself new experiences because they weren't there...right? "Some day," she decided with a nod. "One place at a time, though, I think."

[The Kingpin]

"All things considered, I think someday's closer than you think," stated Andruil as he reached up, giving the Innkeeper's hand a squeeze even as she toyed with his hair. "If there's one thing I've learned from our big fire-breathing friend, it's that books tend to take you places, if you're willing to follow them," he stated. And if you have wings to carry you there, he thought, though it was a thought he kept to himself.


"I can't repeat the same jokes all the time, my friend. You'd get bored of me," stated Matthias jokingly, noting that Urlox had gone to extra effort to eat a few extra 'H's this time.

[C S]

"My life revolves around the sword, Matt. I 'eed my duty the best I can. Daaven was rough when you first arrived there, and I 'ad to fight my bloody duels out in broad daylight before things started turning 'round for the better." Urlox chuckled, though his memories were far from cheerful. "I've done so much fighting, I swear, it feels like I've already died once. So please, don't make assumptions as to what will bore me, lad. If it is time spent like this, then it is time well spent."


Weirdo Spook wore clothes that confused the issue, but Dahnae could tell from her hushed voice that she was a woman. A woman who did not worry about her nose falling off, evidently. Or anything of hers falling off. A stray thought went to the implication that she could be completely naked in this weather, and Dahnae was appalled internally. Externally, she wore a stern, disapproving look on her face. That was far too much for her jungle-accustomed sensibilities to take. At least the glowy frost-woman had the decency to keep some kind of hide on her body.

If it happened to be tough sea serpent hide, so be it.

Weirdo Spook, as per her name, gave Dahnae bad vibes. At this point with anyone else, she would have approached the stranger to inform her of her spookiness, but for the fact that she was too spooky, Dahnae kept her distance, but did not let the stranger out of her sights. Weirdo Spook walked about without knowing she was being followed.

Weirdo Spook liked snakes. Dahnae didn't know what to make of that.

They weren't so bad, she supposed. They were just too grumpy for her. No one could ever just walk with a snake. They always had to stop, coil up and hiss and posture about before running away without legs. Kind of like Firel, Dahnae mused. Firel had legs, though.

Weirdo Spook stopped walking and Dahnae went prone, arms and legs ready to spring her off of the cold pavement and send her sprinting. When she saw her head beginning to turn, Dahnae twisted herself up and skittered over to the side of the road so that she wouldn't be in plain sight. Pressed up near the crawlspace of one of the houses on the street, the girl saw that Weirdo Spook wore a plank of pale bark over her face like a crude mask, eye-holes cut into it. That just made her more spooky to behold.

After Weirdo Spook looked up and down the street, Dahnae heard some murmur about something being the "right choice". Whatever that meant. Dahnae inched her way back away from the house to watch the stranger approach another, daintily climbing the short steps to the porch in a way that was blatantly sneaky.

"Oh, you don't live there," Dahnae observed. The weight of the implication did not lose any of its impact on her, despite her more self-serving tendencies.

[The Kingpin]

"As you like, my friend. As you like," responded Matthias as his mood sobered. "I don't suppose you have any idea when to expect the others, do you?" he inquired. He tried not to discuss specifics. Not here, at least. Not anywhere, truthfully. Since leaving Daaven, they were once more bound to secrecy.

[C S]

"Tomorrow evening if 'aste is on their side. The morning after, if things are... realistic, to be frank. Any longer than that, and we know our lassies are in a thicket they'll need to 'andle with tooth and nail to get out alive."

It was the most nonchalant thing, the notion that their operatives could have been captured. Tortured, even. It wasn't so much indifference to their safety that put Urlox in such casual terms with the possibility. He knew what Baaz and Chandra could do. What was yet to be seen was any hidden potential in young Trupont.

[The Kingpin]

"I trust your instincts in choosing them, my friend. If you think they're strong enough to handle what they have to handle, then I trust that they are. I suppose until then, all we can do, is wait," stated Matthias, sighing as he looked at his bottle, somewhat disappointed. He set it down by his feet and leaned back, resting against the wall, perched atop a crate.

[C S]

Dahnae had little doubt that Weirdo Spook was up to no good when she saw the cloaked woman go up to a noticeably dark window, beginning to trace her fingers up and down the frame in search of weaknesses, or some way to manipulate it. The jungle girl looked around, and suddenly felt very much alone. How could such a busy city ever be so empty? No heroes darting from rooftop to rooftop here. No one to slide down a drain in a grand entrance of bravado. She'd seen that much happen over the course of her nightly studies.

She couldn't see anyone who could help nearby.

All that was left was herself.

What could she do? Dahnae bit her lip and her eyes darted from side to side as she ran through her limited options over and over again in rapid succession. Leave, and let Weirdo Spook do whatever it was she was doing. Go try to find help, which was the same as leaving, in a sense, with the intention of coming back. It could have been too late by then. Lastly, there was her rushing in and doing whatever it was she needed to do to make sure Weirdo Spook didn't hurt anyone.

But again, what was it that she could do? She couldn't fight! Not like the glowy frost-lady. Not like anyone, really. Dahnae clenched her fists, and in doing so, had a small epiphany. She quickly uncurled her fingers and brought them close to her face, her predatory eyes widening with focus.

She couldn't fight like any viking, or some kind of adventurer-hero.

The voices of Viho and Firel repeated their maxims to her. Concentration, and slowing down.

She didn't have any weapons on her.

Dahnae snarled, and her teeth started to rearrange as she did so. Her lips were curled, and her fangs grew to their full, terrifying length, her other teeth becoming pointed daggers all their own. From the fingers held before her eyes, claws extended by her command. Good. More than good. She looked to her other hand and had a minor strain. "Turn!" she implored of herself.

Her hand bulged and contorted, but did not change into its feline form. She reaffirmed her focus, channeled her mana. "Turn!"

The claws, ivory and grooved, emerged from her fingers. It was all but a chain reaction from there. Dahnae's fingers shortened into paws, black fur growing over them, while her limbs jolted and writhed, musculature building up over her stretching bones, sinew and joints. Her ears became even longer and covered in fur, inside and out. She fell onto all fours, the last of her humanoid features dissolving into that of the jungle cat by time she was on the ground.

She didn't need any weapons.

Her orange eyes locked on Weirdo Spook. Not only did she unlock the secrets of her transformation, she was finally putting it to some good use, not running around the city for her own enjoyment. If only her village elders could see her now. Not that she would ever give them the satisfaction for the way they treated her.

Four paws pressed into the ground. The jungle cat, closer in size to the ocelot she so resembled, raced down the street. Snicker looked over her shoulder at the sudden burst of movement, startled. Her shock grew when she saw just what it was that was barreling towards her. The cat bounded up the set of steps with one stride and then launched herself into the cloaked figure.

Dahnae had enough weight and momentum behind her to knock the woman back against the wall. She did not hesitate to put her claws into her, both to find purchase and to do damage. Snicker screamed, dug her fingers into Dahnae's sides, and forced her off. The ocelot's claws tore her cloak and her skin alike as she did so, deep red gouges visible through the rips in the fabric.

Snicker threw the cat across the porch. Dahnae's back slammed against the railing painfully, but she had all the instinct of her wild side. She rolled with her awkward motion, her spine bending over the railing while she spun so that she could fall off the other side of it, and she was back on her paws in literally seconds. Another bounding step had Dahnae back on the porch, back arched, fur bristling. She growled her deep, rolling growl, teeth brandished by her curled lips.

"Kitty-kitty ruined my favorite dress!" Snicker spat. In a lightning-quick motion, she pulled a large knife from a fold in the cloak. It looked no different than an ordinary carving knife, long and rounded at the end. That was because it was a normal carving knife. She tossed it back and forth in her hands while swaying from side to side in the opposite way.

Dahnae could not help herself. Her eyes tracked the knife at first, but then she was at a loss when she couldn't keep tabs on it and the movements of the cloaked woman herself. Her head sporadically while her eyes shifted in their sockets. Snicker laughed a shrieking laugh and lurched forwards, holding the knife blade-down.

Snicker stabbed into Dahnae just behind her shoulder, and her cry was a rasping wail, a horrible thing to hear, and a horrible thing to have trailing off into the night. Snicker pulled the reddened knife out and primed herself to strike again, but Dahnae would not go down without doing some more damage of her own. She tossed herself into Snicker's leg and bit down on her calf. She swung the rest of her body around, her front paws digging into flesh while her rear ones kicked up at some very unfortunate locations.

"******* cat!" Snicker shouted. She jabbed her knife down hesitantly a few times. She couldn't get a good hit in without running the risk of stabbing herself. She sliced into the ocelot's pelt a few times in glancing, but the cat was a biting and scratching force of nature. Eventually, Snicker gave up on stabbing the cat and instead kicked her leg out into the wall behind her.

Dahnae made a sound that was like a cough, and then tumbled off of Snicker, dazed. The woman stained with crimson, stinging with deep wounds, rolled the cat over with her free hand and stabbed with abandon at Dahnae's underside. Once. Twice. The blade sank over and over again and Dahnae's raspy screeches were nightmarish. Snicker laughed all the while in her mania, until she felt a strong torsion around her throat.

"I got her, Johnny!" one of the two Green-Coats to come on the scene called out. His strong arms made it difficult for Snicker to breathe, and when he threw himself backwards, he pulled her off of the big cat. She flailed her knife wildly, but the one named Johnny, wearing a deerstalker hat, was swift in stepping around his partner and disarming her with an expert technique. Johnny grabbed her by the wrist with one hand, twisted hers with the other until her grip was broken, then caught the released weapon to take it out of her reach.

"Restrain her, Kenny! I'll go see to the animal!" Johnny said as he tossed the knife away.

Kenny, or Kenneth as he was properly known as, spun his trunk around, lifted Snicker off of her feet, and then slammed her down on the ground with the rest of his weight joining her thereafter. Her fight was lost, and she did not make any more moves to resist.

Johnny knelt over the cat, first assessing the extent of the wounds inflicted. He wasn't a veterinarian. He wasn't a doctor, period! He knew as much that he had to stop the bleeding, though. If they were to have any hope of this strange cat surviving this fight, he had to address her blood loss. She was spreading a puddle on the porch, and Johnny felt a little bad for the people who had to find out this all was happening on their doorstep. Nevermind that. He reached into his coat and started to gather any loose cloth and other fabric that he could spare, ripping out the seams of his winter wear.

Before he could wrap up the ocelot, however, the man had to witness its body unraveling, and recombining, and his steadily dropping jaw spoke to how sickening it was to see body parts moving like that. His revulsion was paired with dismay and puzzlement when the course was ran, and it turned out that the cat was a girl.

One going pale, her oversize coat stained red, especially around the chest and midsection.

"Kenny! We're gonna have to carry another one; get your legs fired up for a run to a hospital!"

[Hopeflower]

The hellish screaming was loud enough to be heard several streets over, and had the heads of those few stragglers who were either on their way to or home from work turning. Viho's head, however, snapped around even faster than Arsenic's. The psychomancy teacher had gone whiter than Arsenic had ever seen him - he looked genuinely terrified.

Viho's heart had indeed lurched sickeningly. He only knew of one creature that made such a sound.

Dahnae.

He was running before the name had fully formed, the images of bruised and bloodied and dead elves flooding his mind's eye. Only after Viho started moving did it occur to him that he'd just taken off in the middle of a conversation - the first almost-civil conversation he'd had with his son in nearly two decades - without even an excuse.

It didn't seem to matter. He could sense Arsenic behind him, keeping pace, confused and still angry - but unquestioning, for the moment. There was that moral code at work.

Viho would spare the energy to express gratitude later.


"Maybe. I'm hoping it won't take quite that much adventuring to find what I'm looking for," Vix replied, absently trailing her fingers down the back of Andruil's neck. "Pretty as Aster is, there's no place like home."

Rowan stretched, long and lazy and careful not to spill her tea. She folded her legs under her comfortably and pointed out, "Yeah, but it's nice to kick back on a beach somewhere every once in a while. Sun, sand, no worries. Well, except maybe not passing out too close to the water."

Vix arched an eyebrow at her, lips quirking in an amused smile. "Don't tell me you just exchange getting drunk at home for getting drunk on the beach."

"Why not?" Rowan smirked. "Have to change it up now and then."

[C S]

Johnathon's hands scrambled to close and put pressure on as many wounds as possible before he and Kenny made any attempt at moving the girl. "I don't understand!" he rambled as his hands raced with the girl's fading heart, turning redder and redder. "She was a cat, why in the hell is her coat all torn up!?"

"Don't let the magic get you off your feet, Johnny-boy!" were Kenneth's words of encouragement. "Keep a level head, just like in basic!"

"Level, level," Johnathon muttered to himself, as if it would somehow stop the trembling running down his fingers. Another knot. The last one he could put together. His patchwork was inadequate, he didn't need any extensive medical training to figure that much out. He couldn't let himself think that it was too late. Not without doing everything in his power.

But the girl's breathing... she groaned quietly, and her chest barely raised when she took in air. No time.

"Alright Kenny, it's do-or-she-dies time! Kick it into gear!"

Kenneth hefted their perpetrator over his broad shoulders, while Johnny gingerly placed his hands behind Dahnae's back and legs. Kick it into gear while not jostling their victim too much.

It was a challenge.

[The Kingpin]

"Drinking's not the only fun thing you can do on a beach, either," stated Andruil as he rested his head back against the Innkeeper's touch, his tone suggestive of things that did not necessarily involve the most... traditional of beach activities.

[C S]

The two men were about to be on their way when the door to the house opened at long last. An older looking man poked his head out from the doorway, leering at them. "What in the name of the Draks is going on here!?" he barked. He looked down at the bloodstains and retreated a bit into his house.

"No time to explain," Johnathon replied over his shoulder, if somewhat tersely. He caught a glance of the man, and while Johnathon did not hold him accountable for not stepping in sooner -- what was a man of his age supposed to do to stop a mutual mauling? -- he did not appreciate the showboating, as if loud words and angry faces would somehow bring balance to inaction.

"I have a family! And this is my property--!" The men in green did not stay their ground to listen. Kenneth shrugged his unladen shoulder and then turned to the stairs. His boots drummed down the steps, and he swooped low to retrieve the knife off the ground in passing. The weight of the woman slung over him did nothing to slow his pace.

Johnathon maintained a gap of a yard or so between himself and Kenneth, a delicate balance of speed and gentleness so that he didn't worsen the girl's already terrible condition. "Kenneth, clinics? You know of any nearby?"

"The one by the gates is our safest bet. Always open, fully staffed, vigilant for any straggling jobbers that got themselves in a bad spot for the sake of some coin," said Kenneth.

"Too big a chance to find one a little closer." Johnathon cursed inwardly. "Alright. I bet it'd be the first time they got a patient from inside the walls."

"I wouldn't take that bet, boy-o. People have a habit of getting themselves hurt in all kinds of ways, no matter where they are."

Johnathon looked to the unconscious woman on Kenneth's back, and then the girl in his arms that stained his clothes red.

"Ain't that the truth."


Dahnae's eyes scrunched up as she winced and hissed. Johnathon's attention went back to her. She wasn't gone, yet. But what she muttered made his heart sink in pity. "It hurts too much," her tiny voice conveyed, eyes turning misty. "Make it stop."

"Oh, that's not what you want right now, miss," Johnathon mumbled. He didn't know if she were lucid enough for a motivational speech, but he sure could have used some self-assurance. "If it stops hurting before we get you treated, the battle's lost. Yeah, it's going to suck for a little bit after that, too, but it won't last forever. 'Tis a part of life, to hurt, but you gotta do it anyway, eh? What choice do you have?"

[Hopeflower]

Dahnae! The call was a sharp slap to Arsenic's senses, a shout he had no way of blocking out. Viho was pushing his magic out as far as he could in every direction, surely disturbing more than a few people in the process of trying to find his student. Answer me.

'Do you even know if we're going the right way?' Arsenic asked, shaking off the impulse to help long enough to try and get his thoughts in order.

"We'll know soon enough," Viho muttered, not knowing or caring if Arsenic heard.


"Wouldn't the sand get everywhere?" Vix asked, half laughing.

"It does," Rowan confirmed. She sipped her tea thoughtfully. "You kind of have to expect that no matter what you're doing, though."