Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

"Just most things," the Knight jabbed back jokingly, a lopsided grin visible behind the brim of his mug. Seeing Arsenic on the move did however, remind the Knight that he had to start preparing to leave himself. Solstice or not, he doubted Viho would cancel the day's lesson. Delay, perhaps. But not cancel. Though he could fit in a visit to the girls first. A bit of light-hearted banter would serve him well with the concentration he'd need to exhibit later; something that was bound to bother some of the students' horrible hangovers. It may well aggravate the headache he had himself, assuming it hadn't cleared up by then.

[Hopeflower]

At that, Arsenic offered a shrug. 'Can't tell you if what you're curious about will get me killed or not if you don't ask.' And there it was, stated in such simple tones - the reminder that Arsenic did not, in fact, go snooping through minds just because he could. With Andruil improving his guard, thoughts slipped through less often and the knight's mind was quieter to the mute elf's extended senses. Much like most other people he passed, a general sense of what mood Andruil was in was about all that Arsenic constantly picked up these days.

[The Kingpin]

The Knight paused to consider what Arsenic had said. He'd become so used to Nick's comments about his loud mind that he had grown to assume the Mute Assassin knew everything he was thinking, almost all the time. It was a combination of the fact that that was no longer the case and the fact the Assassin trusted him enough that he was willing to allow such a conversation to occur that kept him from responding...immediately, at least. A couple of moments of silence lingered before he managed a quiet, thoughtful "Something to discuss tonight, perhaps."



Far from the homes of recovering Brodudikans, the Stormweaver lingered in wait, hidden amidst snow and trees warped into a shelter that kept him concealed from prying eyes. The soot that mingled with the snow was a side effect of his actions in the village of Amplefield. Well, the former village of Amplefield. It had been a ghost town when he arrived, abandoned by its occupants some time ago, the harsh weather inflicted upon it year after year killing their crops and sealing off their trade routes, until finally, they migrated. It made for a perfect spot to set his trap. Buildings provided cover, however, and he could not give the Millenial Mage that advantage. Burning the place to the ground was an unfortunate necessity, but he could not allow Morrelie any potential advantage. In a place where nothing but ash and snow covered the ground, seemingly undying embers glimmering defiantly in the cold, it would leave Morrelie with very little to exploit.

After that, the demonic miasma was a simple thing to replicate. While Gilgamesh himself was no longer capable of it passively, the many demons enslaved by the Stormweaver were. All he needed was one. A lesser Afreet stood at the heart of the destruction, powerful by Aster's standards, but a mere footnote in the Stormweaver's list of victories.

Waiting enabled the Experimentalist to think, reflecting on what the Scholar had told him. Septimus had seemed quite distressed by the power he sensed Morrelie wielded. That was to be expected, he supposed. Septimus's encounters with powerful beings had been restricted to vengeful, corrupted guardians, demons and Hueilin. To see such power in a being that was technically human was baffling for the young Hueilin.

Arashi knew better, however. Three thousand years had given him many a strange and spectacular sight, but it had also dulled his sense of wonder. He had come to expect everything as possible. Morrelie having the power to rival a hardened Millenial Hueilin was not outside the realm of possibility, not when Elven Sages had matched that feat.

What did concern him however was her decision to specialise in Peredomancy. It was not a discipline he had given the Zuppolandian Order of Magi in any extensive depth. He had warned them that it was destruction incarnate, liable to destroy far more than just the demon they sought to eliminate. Ironically, it was probably for that very reason that she took up the discipline. He himself had had a considerable amount of time to refine his skills in Peredomancy, but the fact that the margin between himself and Morrelie's entry into the discipline was only one of a few hundred years meant he could not depend on it. She could very well have gathered sufficient knowledge in his time within Drakhunmiir that she could match him, perhaps even surpass him in that regard. No. This conflict would have to be one of a more wary sort. A more varied sort.

[Hopeflower]

Another shrug. 'As you like,' Arsenic replied evenly. With his sheaths tightened to his liking, he gave the inner pockets of his jacket a quick check to make sure everything was still to his liking. Not inclined to put off the talk he wanted to have with Viho much longer, he tugged on gloves, gave Andruil and the old woman a nod, and headed out into the cold.

"Left already, has he?" Rowan asked from the top of the stairs. She was studying them contemplatively, debating which approach to climbing down them would result in less pain.

[The Kingpin]

"You're surprised?" asked Andruil as he poked his head out of the kitchen, his mug still in hand. He couldn't help but sympathise with the Scarred Assassin once he saw her. It was clear the previous night had hit her hard simply from the look on her face. Still, one had to admit it was a night to remember.

[Hopeflower]

"Not in the slightest." With a sigh that could be taken for resigning herself to her situation, Rowan started to slowly edge her way down the stairs, extending each leg with care and grimacing as soon as she started to put weight on her sore muscles. "Could hardly get him to - f*ck - stick around to finish his tea. He's nervous. Hell," she concluded in a grunt, seeking a chair immediately after her foot left the last step, "I can't say he's wrong to be."

[C S]

"Derpahur crackleburndle, aahcry dos Morrelie steppa-steppa onda ur swingles..." Morrelie "sang". In truth, her range did not stray far from her regular speaking manner. It was by the inflection of her voice on choice words, her name in particular, that a listener could have surmised that she had a tune.

"Ur swingles oompha odur, quicka ur eggles..."

She came up to the remnants of Amplefield's wooden gate. Her eyes spoke of ferocious concentration, her song implied that she was almost bored. A jingle to pass the time as she put her hand to her waist, the knot that held her wand untying. She drew the bone-instrument, pointed its tip to the blackened door and flicked her wrist.

The gate did not swing open. It fell off of its melted hinges instead and broke into several pieces when it crashed onto the ground, tiny points of orange rushing into the air like dandelion seeds before being scattered by a phantom breeze that originated from the mage herself. "That's some shoddy craftsmanship right there," Morrelie stated as she walked down the street, stepping through the torched debris.

Metal rings sat on the ground, the barrels they held together long gone. Dust. Husks of buildings stood, jagged black spires, their bottom floors riddled with the remains of furniture and roofing. Glass either sparkled from stray sunbeams or stayed stubbornly in the windows, cracked and stained with time and nature.

Amplefield turned out to be smaller than what she imagined. The elf had said that he and his wife were far from the epicenter of the onslaught when it happened, owing to their escape, but Morrelie had a hard time imagining anyone being able to walk away from this place. The scale of the settlement and thoroughness of the destruction was more in line with what she'd been told of dragon raids as a wee little girl. The thought was far from the forefront of her mind, but it still set her blood alight, the association and connotation.

If only she knew how close to the mark her gut instinct was. As it happened, the mage, by design, saw the Afreet first. It took the form of a woman. Some kind of humanoid woman, at least. Elven, mix of human and some other features that definitely placed it as not part of this world. An appearance designed to be alluring, exploiting the weak minded and willed before any kind of supernatural power was employed.

"You've got a pretty face."

Morrelie held her wand up to the burgundy figure in the center of the village. A swirl of magic materialized from the air, coasting into the tip of the wand and coalescing as a point of light. That same point of light, in the blink of an eye, skewered the Afreet's head with several bright shards. Light made into glass, shredding the woman from another existence.

"I wonder how your compatriots would appreciate it now."

[The Kingpin]

A terrible screech rang out from the Afreet as the 'head' oozed tarry blood that burst into flames as it came to the surface. Its chest split open, rows upon rows of hellish fangs moving independently, the vertically parted jaw snapping threateningly. The creature distorted violently, superficial muscle and silky flesh fraying and warping, a full five feet of height put on by the long, jagged limbs of the beast. Where lithe, sultry curves once were, now there were jagged fleshy spikes. Where breasts may have been, now black bulbous eyes with burning embers at their core could be seen, moving around repulsively in bony sockets. A sudden convulsion sent a shard of bone nearly three feet long hurtling at the Millenial Mage, sinewy strands stretching from its end back to the Afreet itself.


"True. He should learn to give himself some peace, though. A life spent constantly on edge is one that inevitably ends with one getting cut down by that edge itself," mused Andruil as he rose to his feet, offering his chair for the Scarred Assassin.

[C S]

Morrelie swung her wand about in an arc, bringing it to the level of her hips, held out from her. Unmoving and confident, the woman who defied death watched as another one of the reaper's ploys was foiled. The glassy light that skewered the demon shattered, though silently. The seams in the barriers glowed brilliantly and "leaked" mana as what looked like slag, which dissipated on contact with the ground. The shards nearest Morrelie came together, edge to edge, forming a shield that the shard slammed against. The bone caused ripples to extend outwards from its point, but it was held in place.

The remaining shards sliced through its bodily connections to the Afreet, then swarmed the horrible being, the fragments embedding themselves into the demon with spurts of fire splashing out of its torn flesh.

Each magical flechette subsequently popped inside of the demon, resulting in hundreds of tiny particles flying every which way through its body. The end result was that the demon was sliced into strands from the inside out, the full contents of its innards spilling out and combusting.

[The Kingpin]

The mass of demonic flesh that fell to the ground kicked up a thick cloud of black smoke, the white snow exposed beneath its feet during its transformation now turned into what could only have been described as a burning oil slick, black as pitch and burning brightly.

Terrible roars rang out all around the Millenial Mage, the voices of demons of many different shapes and sizes creating a cacophony of anguish and despair. Out of the trees burst a wave of imps, each nearly twelve feet tall, their forms rippling with festering muscle and matted fur and scales, cancerous masses of demonic rage that lacked any rhyme or reason in their horrifying visages. Embers spilled from their backs as they galloped on all fours at the Mage, the first attack coming not from the front, but behind and from above, vast hands made of bony blades threatening to dismember the Mage on the spot.

[C S]

"Your ***** was ugly on the inside!" Morrelie bellowed in response as she spun, taking her "shield" with her. She could not use the bone shard as her own weapon, as it turned into a sludge as the Afreet did. As an alternative, she gave the pouncing imps a hard landing, hoisting the solid light over herself with her magic and having the demons "land" prematurely against it. The barrier tilted these demons towards the others, and just as soon rocketed them into the ground, causing a collision of limbs and torsos, bone weapons swinging about with abandon.

"Discuss it amongst yourselves," spat Morrelie as she glared hatefully upon the pile of giant bodies.

[The Kingpin]

The demons had no intention of doing such. No sooner had the first imp smashed into the others than it was batted away again, turned into a particularly large projectile that was upon Morrelie almost immediately. Even as she was trying to react to that, Imps moved to either side of her, flanking her position through the trees and ruins of buildings and closing in fast, bone and brimstone alike plunging in at her as the Stormweaver watched from afar, observing her behaviour in contemplative silence.

[Hopeflower]

"You should have seen him before he got his throat slit," Rowan said, sitting down with a grateful nod. "Came home half dead and went from not giving enough of a sh*t about his own safety to forgetting how to relax. But then," she added with a shrug, "I guess nearly bleeding out will do that to you."

[C S]

The wayward imp's woes did not have an end in sight. Momentum drove it at the mage, and her mind caught it, and the world in which it found itself in spun in ways it shouldn't. Waving her hand as she turned to face her oncoming attackers, Morrelie slammed the imp into one after the other, bowling them down in a cascade. She completed her twirl and it was at that point that she held her unwilling weapon over herself.

She turned her hand into a fist, and the demon crumpled. Bones cracking, flesh squelching. Its burning blood oozed out of its broken body like the abused yolk of a poorly cracked egg.

"This is what happens when you don't use your words!" Morrelie taunted, vaulting the body behind her into the wreckage of Amplefield. Sport. It was nothing but sport to her.

[The Kingpin]

The burning blood spilled down around her, surrounding her in smoke and flames. It was in that moment that something slammed into her at incredible speed, knocking her forward and through the burnt husk of a house. A half dozen yards behind her, not far from where she once stood, was a skeletal figure wrapped in spectral robes. Its head seemed to be a disturbing blend of bone and metal, reinforced strips of ashen-hued iron running down its brows to the bridge of its nose, separating to frame it and reach down to its canines, long devilish metallic things that seemed out of place until it opened its maw, its humanoid teeth extending to match the metal fangs.

Bright green flames spilled from iron plates that covered its eye sockets as a smoky breath spilled from its throat, a sound more like a gasping breath escaping it, as if it was drawing in every ounce of air that could be found here. That was not far from the truth. While the broken Imps backed off and circled around so that they were not within reach of it, the being drifted over, sideways, to the battered corpses of the two dead demons, their burning flesh seeming to disintegrate as it literally inhaled their remains. What now floated before the Millenial Mage was a Revenant. A sword in one hand and what looked like a gigantic spiked thurible in the other, its figure, while smaller than the Imps, was infinitely more imposing simply by the dreadful aura that surrounded it, and if the blow it had just struck was anything to go by, it would be far more difficult to counteract than the lesser demons that had come before it.


"I suppose it would," agreed the Knight. "Statement still stands, though. I think I might challenge him to a game of chess this evening. Something to get his mind off of his worries."

[C S]

Eighteen feet away, the hole Morrelie left in the withered wood was enlarged. The air became visible with white vapor, forming on the edge of the bubble of magic that exploded outwards around Morrelie, leveling the ruins outright as she walked through the dust, not once obscured by it as the elements bent around her. "A soul-leech. Not one to frequent these humble grounds from what I've read."

Morrelie braced herself, her sporting dismissal of the battle up to now replaced by her usual no-nonsense approach to things. The thurnible would be very valuable to her crusade against the Blood Omen, if she could preserve it. That meant binding the Revenant, not killing it. Empowered by the souls of the slain, that was going to be quite the task.

Nothing the millennial mage was not prepared for.

[The Kingpin]

A rasping voice came forth as the demon parted its maw once more, its blade flipping in hand as it drifts to the side, the spectral entity ignoring obstacles as though they weren't there. Despite its monstrous visage, it was clearly not a stupid creature. It was planning, calculating, considering a possible approach. All the while, that crushing sense of dread and despair descended on their surroundings like a fog. The Imps continued to circle in the background, undoubtedly seeking to bring down the Mage to save their own hides from the Revenant that had just appeared on the scene.

[C S]

The two auras soon clashed. The magicks at work enriched the atmosphere. Flames took and extinguished on a whim, licking the ground. Electricity ran across a boundary that was not defined, the glowing bolts never once encroaching on the demon and the mage. They formed the fringes of a dome, and the imps were caught on the interior. It was the only sign they had that they had been entrapped in Morrelie's plan.

Being the least threatening beings present, despite their great size, Morrelie's magic beset the pack of demons. Her mind tugged on them, bringing them to the center of the standoff where they were anchored to the ground. The mage's magic made them heavy. In the span of seconds their weights multiplied and multiplied. Their alien veins struggled to pump their blood. Their bones struggled to keep their shape. It brought the imps down to the ashen floor, and from there, they burst.

An offering of souls.

"Give me a challenge," Morrelie stated, her black eyes staring into the skeletal visage of the Revenant.

[The Kingpin]

The Revenant's aura manifested against the Millenial Mage's as a black, light-choking cloud, the ash and dust around them swirling up and blotting out the glow of the sun until one could have mistaken the time as being some hour shortly after sunset, the arena lit up by arcs of electricity and the chilling glow of the Revenant's eyes. Its sword swung into the thurible with a chilling gong-like ring, before a hair-raising screech overwhelmed it, the blade scraping against metal in time with the Revenant's harrowing cry. Instead of taking the offering, it jolted to the side, a trail of green following in the wake of its horrible gaze. Its movements were fast, a trail of ash kicked up in its wake as it floated on a perimeter around the Mage. In its wake, two more Revenants seemed to materialise, born of the ash and light of the first, the trio forming a wide circle around Morrelie, neglecting the offering of gore laying before them even as it burst alight like a bonfire in the night. It was as this spontaneous fireball formed that the two new Revenants swung their thuribles forward, revealing the bases of the infernal censers to be lined with massive hooks, the two seeking to latch onto the Mage's body and soul alike.

[C S]

"Oh FINE."

As if summoned by her rage, Morrelie's chains shot out of a distortion of light and sound just over her shoulders. The magical restraints wrapped around the outstretched arms of the two Revenants and then yanked them aside, pulling the specters about as even more chains shot out of the aura surrounding Morrelie.

"******** never make things easy."

The Revenant and its duplicates were all well and proper wrapped in the glowing, searing chains of magic that crisscrossed the arena. Morrelie paced around her hostages as her magic ate away at the demons' collected strength. Hopelessly snared and without hope of escape, the mage allowed herself a moment of appraising smugness.

"But, hey. I did ask for a challenge."

She was perturbed to find that the Revenant was not the tether of its soul. It made her take a step back from her captives. "What in the hell?"