Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

The classroom door opened by another's accord despite class being dismissed. Dahnae thought it a promising development. The suited man had informed her of what she missed, or didn't miss, while she was out as a cat, flicking her paws about to shed them of the snow that stung at her padded feet. When she was told that Viho hadn't left himself, she went out with her recently acquired coin bag and drew up her plans. To find that the older elf hadn't locked himself in his classroom was nice.

She did not say anything as she stepped in and shut the door, a small basket held ahead of her in mittened hands.

[Hopeflower]

Viho glanced up at the intrusion and immediately scolded himself for considering it such. This might have been his classroom, but he had no right to claim the space as entirely his own. "Dahnae," he greeted the shapeshifter, a little surprised that she wasn't out having lunch with her classmates, or otherwise enjoying the holiday. "What can I do for you?"

[C S]

She went over to her teacher's desk and set the basket down next to him. Turning her attention to Viho himself, Dahnae bit onto the end of a mitten, pulled it off and then pulled the other one off of her hand. She put the two of them in Viho's hand. "Mittens." She then started to unwrap the cloth over the basket.

[Hopeflower]

"So I see." Viho slid his hands back to give her room, taking the necklace with them. Not willing to take the slightest chance of losing it, he set the mittens down and clasped the chain behind his neck, and waited to see what Dahnae had in store for him this time.

[C S]

Dahnae did not catch a glimpse of the necklace, being of such a one-track mind as she was. If it wasn't making sure her mittens were accounted for, it was setting out a small plate for Viho and then using a fork to lay his wintery pastry down on it. The round cake was covered in a thick cream that was as pale and seemed to be as cold as snow itself. Dahnae placed another pastry atop of it, a similarly round bun that was coated in a velvety red. She left the fork in for Viho to take and then placed a small bottle of milk off to the side before she went to set her own dish.

[The Kingpin]

The Maned Knight wandered the streets beyond the school's walls, oblivious to the Psychomancer's plight, or the comfort his student sought to bring him. It was the Winter Solstice, and merriment could be seen, heard and smelled everywhere. But the past few days had kept him from personally looking for anything to give his closest friends. That did not mean he had not prepared for it in advance however. It just meant that, unlike most of the gifts in this city, his had had to travel a bit.

"Why did you ask me to enter this city again?" grumbled the gryphon as he looked over his shoulder at the Knight.

"Because I am not as strong as you are, and I need your help," said Andruil simply, careful to word it so that he appealed to the gryphon's ego.

"Says the elf who can turn into a giant man-eating wolf creature and wrestle demonic undead dragons," retorted Pyranex, unconvinced.

"How do you think the people here would react if I suddenly turned into a giant wolf?"

"They would probably cower and flee, as any prey with half a working brain should," agreed Pyranex simply, getting a look from the Knight.

"Not quite what I meant to imply, but I suppose that's a fair point. The fact of the matter is, you are stronger than I, and less likely to cause terror or panic," stated Andruil.

"Do you mean to imply that I am not every bit as formidable and terrifying as you are?" snarled the gryphon as he looked over his shoulder, fixing Andruil with a serious look.

"I meant to imply, my friend, that they are used to you. They are at ease in your presence, more curious and captivated than terrified," corrected the Gladeiryn calmly. The gryphon huffed at that, but said nothing more.


"M'lord?" asked the man in the tattered brown coat and the woolly cap as he approached the Knight not far past the city gates. He was riding on the back of what looked to be some form of dense-furred ox. Horns curled downwards on either side of its head, terminating in a pair of menacing looking black prongs that pointed forwards. It wasn't quite as long as the average bull, but it was almost as large as a stallion, and quite a lot more formidable looking. Curiously long legs seemed to lend the animal to being fleet-footed, but how it would manage rocky terrain was anyone's guess.

"Ah. Hermaes, I presume?"

"Aye, m'Lord. Mermaes Finch, Riverdale Royal Messenger Corps."

The Knight hummed thoughtfully at that. They used to be called the Valenhadian Royal Messengers. "You have a curious name, Hermaes. Not one I am accustomed to hearing."

"I'm not originally from Valenhad, m'Lord. I was a citizen of Germania until Valenhad dissolved the Church's power there. Decided I could do with living somewhere that didn't let preachers rule over their governments and enlisted as soon as I moved to Riverdale province," explained the messenger. That explained the accent.

"Interesting. I take it you have a package for me?"

"Aye, m'Lord. A few, actually. Rather hefty ones, at that. Just two of several packages I am meant to deliver over the next two days, but I was told yours was the most urgent."

Andruil smiled. Trust Alex to look out for his younger brother. "Thank you, Hermaes. Please do come to the tavern, with me. I cannot linger, but I can see to it you get a good meal and something nice for the road."

"Very kind of you, m'Lord, but I'm afraid I can't. I'm running behind schedule and my commanding officer'll have my head if I tarry," responded the messenger in his distinctive, fast-talking way. Even as he spoke, he'd swung a leg over the ox's head so he was sitting side-saddle. From that position, he reached into the massive satchel on the rear end of the ox, drawing from within two chests. One was very clearly Irrydil Honey Wine, the brand's crest stamped on the side of it. The other was a large but unassuming box, for the most part. Andruil knew that was to detract prying eyes from the contents of it.

"As you wish. I'll not impose on your schedule. But please do have something to eat before you go. It is the Solstice, after all. It wouldn't be much of a joyous day if you ended up starving or freezing on your way to your next destination." warned Andruil.

Hermaes smiled and nodded. "Of course, m'Lord. But I am planning to visit my family before I return to Riverdale. Which is why I mustn't waste any time."

"All the more reason to have your meal, no?" asked the Knight with a smile as he took the wine box, then the chest, putting them in Pyranex's saddlebags before reaching out to accept a third item; an elegantly carved bow, made from some form of wood that seemed to have a spiralling grain to it. A normal person would scoff at how the grain implied it would splinter if it was used, but it was no fool's gift. The one who made it did so with the knowledge that it was far from a flimsy mockery of a weapon. Along with it came a quiver of dark, sleek arrows bearing tips that seemed lined with back-swept triangular teeth, flat as the edges of the arrow, but designed to cause incredible damage if pulled out; something further aggravated by the very slight spiral of the heads; only significant enough to make sure they wouldn't pull straight out the same way they went in. They seemed to be a modified and fine-tuned version of Daaven-points; something that had been put into effect with many of the Valenhad's Archer Battalions.

"I suppose so, m'Lord," responded Hermaes as he finished handing over the packages, watching as Andruil slung the bow across his chest, the quiver set in the saddlebags alongside the two boxes.

"Good luck, Hermaes, and a merry Solstice to you," said Andruil with a nod to the messenger, tossing a small coin purse his way as he departed.

Hermaes was jolted to attention as he grabbed it before it could hit his chest. Feeling the weight of the small bag and discerning its contents, he smiled. "You too, m'Lord," was the last thing the messenger said, before they parted ways, Andruil heading towards the boarding house, and Hermaes to a tavern for a well deserved meal.



"I honestly couldn't say that I've heard about that. Before Eredar showed his face, I had been spending most of my time reading about the various creatures of Aster and the various schools of arcane knowledge. It was only afterwards that I started reading into different kingdoms and races in Aster. And by then I'd already met you and Urlox," responded Septimus with a shrug as he made his way towards the kitchen, Syria's hand still in his own as he led her along.

[C S]

"And now we've gone from green and silver ants with pointy things to insufferable. I still struggle to determine if it is an improvement of reputation or not," Syria continued. The tangent had her absently aware that they were walking towards the kitchen door, and Willow passing by like the winds of change came as some surprise. She held a tray out for her and Septimus.

"Baenahes?" Willow asked. The swirls of golden-brown dough covered in cinnamon, sugar and drizzled with syrup were given an odd name. Banshee Envy. Said to be so delicious, that even a demonic specter would be tempted to reverse its ways to enjoy it. Syria gazed upon her favorite holiday food, surprise melding away into a trance as the sight and smells played with her senses.

[The Kingpin]

"It's really nice!" exclaimed a muffled voice behind the old Daavenian as Beshayir followed, her mouth already stuffed with the pastry.

"It smells like it," agreed the Scholar as he hovered a hand gingerly over one. "May I?" he asked, not quite certain if it was polite to help himself to one without a plate, or at least a fork to eat it with. It did look rather sticky, after all.

[Hopeflower]

"You must be sick of people asking how you're doing," Viho noted as he picked up his fork and poked experimentally at the apparent dessert, "but how did your deliveries go?"


After a quick stop to drop off Vix's notes, the trio of friends found themselves drawn, thanks to Arsenic's curiosity, to a building that would probably not provide them with any food, but that promised fascinating collections of historical relics. The building was simple, not more than two stories high, and a carefully hand-painted sign indicated in elegant lettering that it was a museum.

'Humor me,' Arsenic had requested, and neither woman could come up with a reason not to. It wasn't as though there was nowhere to get food nearby, after all.

Now, noticing the way Arsenic's fingers kept twitching as though he wanted to examine the old bones he was looking at more closely, Rowan wondered with no small amount of amusement if they'd be able to get him to leave.

[C S]

"You certainly may. I made sure to cool them off but... dragon. I gather you are a sort that takes after heat. If you feel inclined to warm them up again, I do ask you use your fire outside of the house. Safety reasons."

"Grandma," Syria said flatly. Her favorite sweets were good all on their own, but there would be no teasing Septimus for his draconic nature. Even if there was a lot to tease him about, such as his ticklishness when staff figureheads were involved. Syria chose her bun, denoted by its ensuing aura of green, and brought it to her lips for a substantial bite that she savored.


"Just fine," Dahnae replied after placing the cloth napkins out in a neat pile between herself and Viho. "Cat-feet were cold, but cat-body was warm." Then, at the drop of the figurative hat, she said with disarming neutrality, "Don't fiddle with my job, mitten-man."


The old bones in the case, cordoned off by fancy red rope and brass stands, as the nameplate shared, was some kind of pygmy bat. A creature that grew no larger than the assassin's palm, and most of that size was devoted to wings that were long gone. The only way for Arsenic to imagine its wingspan were the tiny fingers, splayed out on the ceramic inside the case. The sketch that was placed beside the incredibly small flyer did not quite capture the life it once had.

The case adjacent to the bat was a long, slinky snake-like creature. On its plate, its ribbed structure meandered up to the tail, which was frozen in a half-coil. Its placement in the softly lamp-lit room was no half-thought. It was likely a creature that fed on the pygmy bats, as its information panel readily shared.

[Hopeflower]

"It's part of my job to make sure my students aren't overexerting themselves," Viho replied, just as neutrally. His expression didn't invite argument, however. "Whether in matters of magic or otherwise."


"It's incredible how similar bat wings can be to dragon wings," Vix murmured, following the contours of delicate bones with her eyes. "You think maybe there's a connection there?"

Rowan cocked her head, then shrugged. "It's not my area of expertise," she said. "Seems unlikely though, doesn't it? I mean, compare that - " she gestured at the display " - to Aviva. It's not even a snack to her."

Arsenic lingered at the snakelike skeleton, giving its bared teeth an especially long look. No fangs, but the shape and needle-sharp quality to them were familiar. He shook off the thought and moved on, commenting over his shoulder, 'Either way, it's really something that that wing structure can lift something as small as a bat and as big as a dragon.'

"It's amazing that any wings can lift something that huge," Rowan remarked, trailing behind him.

[C S]

"I wouldn't do anything I didn't want to do, or feel that I couldn't do," Dahnae said. She held out a hand. Granted, it was a paw when her arm was fully outstretched. The change had happened in a literal blink of an eye. "I's a cat, remember. Can't make a cat do anything. I wouldn't be here if anyone could."

Dahnae reached for the basket, fur and bones shifting back to skin and humanoid digits in another split-second. She got her fork and milk. "They say they put peppermint in the drink. I thought you'd like it," she carried on as if the topic of work hadn't been broached.



A spritely character descended upon the chatter with an unbridled enthusiasm. "Why, aren't you a group of perceptive, inquisitive minds!" The young lady's eyes lingered on Arsenic just a little too long at the word 'minds'. She did not know for sure if he couldn't speak or if he just preferred to flex his psychomantic prowess, and it was not in her job description to inquire about it, despite her encouraging questioning thoughts.

She was dressed in durable overalls and a short-sleeved work shirt, big leather gloves extending all the way up her forearms, as if she had to do a lot of digging in her day. Digging, in the middle of the stone-metal sprawl that was Brodudika. Whether or not the logic lined up, it was fitting attire for the theme of the building, at least.

"This phenomena in the natural world is called by our best and brightest 'convergent anatomy', and those in the know think it's due to certain traits proving more successful over others out in the harsh and scary wild! It's kinda like how we as people build things, if you can imagine yourself building a wing. If one idea works really well, in say, Valenhad, better than all other variations of that idea, then it will stick around longer. Meanwhile, Germanians are also working on their wing concept, and find a similar route to the end product as Valenhad. Now you have two nations with wing designs, they had no collaboration whatsoever, and they end up looking alike!"

The guide grinned. "Of course, building artificial wings is a lot easier than growing them, and is a lot less... lethal, unless some fool actually tries to get airborne with them. Come with me, I'll show you our specimens that suggest the history of wing development in a few species!"

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar smiled, lifting one of the pastries to take a bite out of it. Nodding in response, his brows raised in admiration of the flavour of the baenhe. A moment later, the Scholar's smirk could be seen tugging at the edges of his lips as the side of the pastry around where he'd bitten lit up. It was a small and controlled flame, clearly kept from getting any larger or from causing any damage, but the way it burned blue made it an exotic sight regardless. And then, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, he bit into the entire burning portion, chewing on it casually. This did, however, earn a wide eyed look from the little Pyromancer behind Willow, who understandably thought it was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen done with fire. It was perhaps for that reason that he followed it up with a "It's not pyromancy, Beshi. Don't get any ideas."

[C S]

Willow took the display as one of cheekiness. There was no harm, so there was no foul in her eyes. "Syria, you've brought quite a card into my home. He who enjoys melting cinnamon and butterscotch frosting."

"That sounds heavenly," Syria mumbled through her roll. "One of these days, I'll find out how to make that into a drink."

"Something to rival my hot chocolate?" Willow's eye lit up, and a youthful competitive smirk went across her aged features. "Don't keep me waiting long, dearie."

[Hopeflower]

Viho twitched a little at the mention of peppermint, felt the tooth pendant shift with the motion and was suddenly acutely aware of the chain resting on the back of his neck. The blow was an unintentional one, however, and he let the sting of it go unremarked upon. Instead, he murmured, "Thoughtful of you. Thank you." And preparing himself for an onslaught of sweetness - he wasn't overly fond of massive amounts of sugar in his food - he cut a bite of pastry with his fork and tucked in.


Sharp golden eyes returned the scrutiny while it lasted. Arsenic turned his gaze to Vix and Rowan to see what they thought of that idea. The woman seemed to know her stuff, and he wouldn't object if they didn't. When the innkeeper offered him a one-shouldered shrug and Rowan nodded encouragingly, the mute elf turned back to the guide and inclined his head.

'Lead the way.'

[The Kingpin]

"I do believe it will take a while. Longer if we don't have a way of comparing while we're out there," stated the Scholar matter-of factly between mouthfuls of cinnamon pastry. "It would go faster if we had a recipe on hand," he jabbed a moment later. "You know, as a reference point."

[C S]

Dahnae stuffed one of the sweets in her mouth, struggled around it, and eventually broke it down into small enough sections that she could swallow without choking. A swig of her mint-milk allowed her to speak clearly afterwards. "You are classroom decoration, but that doesn't mean you have to be alone in the classroom while you decorate it."



The guide took them to a whole wall that had its own brazier to light it. The huge, flat case against the wall held different lineages of creatures, reptilian and avian, and things somewhere in between. The avian line had tiny things that could have been taken for bipedal lizards, and there were note-plates pointing out the similar bone structures that would eventually morph into the wings they were all familiar with, feathered and all. The line that was designated as draconic also had similar, lizard-like specimens, though these were quadrupeds through and through. The early examples had tiny nubs behind their shoulders, and each subsequent example had an enlarged growth in that same spot until the first recognizable wings -- simple membranes attached to one joint -- appeared. From then on, the limbs became more arm-like, boasting hands at the ends that then developed claws over the span of ages.

There was a branch in this unspoken tale. A point where the four-legged creatures began to rise onto two, and their forelimbs, like the avians, turned to wings, wings that became large and wide compared to their bodies. The wyverns.



"I will continue to age gracefully, like a Frondfoot. I will have nothing but time once I can't work the kitchen and loom. I await your cinnamon-scotch, Syria." Willow smiled sweetly, and was off again to tend to her cooking-craft. Syria cocked her head. "There it is," she responded. "The gauntlet has been laid down." After a pause, the mage shrugged and snapped her fingers, sparkles of light jumping from her fingertips.

"I taught myself magic, so I think I've got this."

[Hopeflower]

Viho paused in lifting his next bite to his mouth. "Classroom decoration?" he asked, giving Dahnae a puzzled look. Admittedly, he was content to skim over talking about his solitude altogether, if at all possible, but it seemed that for once he was genuinely stuck on the way her mind worked.


Arsenic took all of this in with the wonder of one who was being introduced to dragons for the first time. He traced the letters on the specimen plates, drinking in the speculation about the evolution of flight and breath weapons like a man deprived of water. It all seemed to make some kind of sense to him, Rowan thought - she could practically see him drawing connections to the dragons he regularly rode and played with, working out what made them what they were.

Vix leaned over to the older woman and murmured half-jokingly, "Good call?"

"Good call," Rowan agreed, smiling and making a mental note to come back sometime in the future.

'You could track every animal's adaptations this way, couldn't you?' Arsenic asked, for once oblivious to their exchange. He turned to look at the guide, tilting his head. 'Even ours.'

[The Kingpin]

A baenhe-muffled chuckle could be heard attempting to escape the Scholar's mouth. "Well, just let me know if you need any ingredients," he quipped once he'd swallowed the last of his pastry and was no longer at risk of choking on it.

"Oh!"

"Oh?" asked Septimus as he eyed the young elf.

"I forgot to tell you!" she said, suddenly excited. "Perioul's married!" she said.

Septimus was thankful he had swallowed his baenhe. Had he not, he would doubtlessly be choking right now. "Say again?" he asked.

"Perioul! He's married!" she said. "I saw him come up to me while I was practising yesterday, and there was another Frondfoot with him with pink scales. She was bigger than he was, and fat!"

[C S]

"Firel said it. I think it was accurate," Dahnae replied. "It has a ring to it."


"We're working on that upstairs. One of the departments is 'The Rise of Sapients'. As you can see we're in--" The guide spun on the heel of her high boot to point to the hanging sign, painted trees ranging from conifers to jungle goliaths framing the bright red letters, "-- 'The Summit of the Sky's Throne'. I don't make up the names." She laughed a short laugh. "We're still trying to decide if displaying the remains of our modern day peoples would be ethical, but we do have some exhibits to show, though paired with me lecturing you all about things, mostly. Would you be interested in that?"


"Perioul... is around here?" Syria asked. Her roll hovered in front of her bemused face comically, as she was going to take another bite when Beshayir dropped her own surprise announcement. Syria was too dumbfounded to make the joke of her pet beating her and Septimus to the punch.

"Oh my. I wonder if she's a wild one, or another that flew the coop like him," Willow replied distantly.

Syria found herself wondering the same thing. "Around here... I don't think there's any harm in... finding him? I realize it may be too late to take him home but..."