Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

This was sounding more in line with the corruption of kings and queens in the sphere of humanoid politics. Then again, Syria supposed there was very little in the way of separating dishonesty and conniving nature in between species. Dragons did not rely on legislation as much as those worming their way through the ranks of nobility did. What they lacked in pen and ink they made up for in teeth, claws, flame and bloodshed. It was a melancholic thought, and a melancholic statement, "So they are going to be forced to hold their tongues until they can make a case to defend themselves? Will Buruq not intervene if they are rallied against in such a blatant scapegoating?"

[Hopeflower]

By the time they were nearing the library, Vix and Arsenic had settled back into a familiar pattern of friendly bickering.

"I'm not saying you have to get a tattoo, I'm just asking what you'd get if you wanted one."

'You say that like I don't know you.'

"What, you think I'd drag you to get something you don't want?"

He sighed, rolled his eyes, and deadpanned, 'The most sickeningly cute thing you can imagine.'

That, of course, had Vix freezing in place for a second before she burst out laughing at whatever image she'd conjured up. He endured it with an impressively straight face until she seemed to calm, then buried her face in her hands to muffle a fresh wave of giggles. At which point, his stoic mask cracked and his shoulders shook with a quiet laugh of his own.

And then Vix sighed and her shoulders slumped, and Arsenic's features smoothed out again as he sensed a turn in her mood. The distraction of conversation only lasted so long, they both knew all too well. I feel bad for her, Vix admitted. Natalie. She's really on her own here, isn't she?

Arsenic stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat and drew his shoulders up a little. To the casual observer, he was warding off the chill that was starting to reach for his bones. To Vix, it looked like he was struggling with something he didn't want to say, but couldn't think of a gentler way to phrase. Yeah, he finally agreed. You'll do your best because that's what you do - Vix's lips twitched into a faint smile - but I think she is.

Vix worried her lip with her teeth. How are you supposed to comfort someone who doesn't remember attempting murder? How do you help them keep going? Should you even want to? The questions were coming in a flood across the link, and Arsenic could only throw up the weakest of shields to avoid being overwhelmed without shutting her out.

I don't know about amnesia, he said almost tentatively, after a little consideration, but in a way, she's not all that different from you or I. We're both guilty of taking lives. And we both had to figure out how to put ourselves back together, once.

Yeah, but, Vix started to protest automatically, then stopped herself. But we had something to work with. She doesn't really have anything. No past, not really - no goal...

Arsenic glanced at her. That's something she's going to have to figure out, he reminded her quietly. Like we did - do, he corrected, because he himself was still struggling with that one. You can only help someone so much before they have to start taking steps on their own.

I don't know if I have enough time to help her figure out what her first step should be, Vix replied, and her distress seeped through the connection. How do you know when you've done enough?

To that, he didn't have a very good answer. Because with Vix, it had just been a knowing. The sense that the innkeeper was coming out of her shell, was taking steps without encouragement, was making her own decisions. Had grown into her new life. It's different for everyone, I suppose, he replied slowly, but I guess it comes down to when they realize they're ready to move forward on their own.

[C S]

"... I could invent a new style of hydromancy..." Moira's mind continued along the tangent of things she could do in the time it would take her to reach the bottom of her potential mystery. All the things she could be doing prevented her from making any progress with any of them; be it gathering more clues from the symbolism ascribed on the door, or deciding to do any of the things that occurred to her. Her hand on her chin and her other arm crossed to support her elbow, Moira looked like a profound scholar. Vix's unique company could pick up on the very not scholarly thoughts as they came up to pass her.

[Hopeflower]

Arsenic automatically turning his head drew Vix's attention, and she gave a little start upon recognizing that they were already at the library steps. Only then did she realize who was standing at the top of them. It seemed today was the day for running into old faces. She called out, "Hi! Moira, right?"

[C S]

The lady under the wide brimmed hat cocked her head and looked coyly out of the corner of her vision. A pleased smile graced her features. She drooped into a great bow, the hand previously on her chin holding onto her hat so it didn't roll off of her head. "Lady Adsila, the pleasure is all mine. I trust things have gone well since we last spoke?" she asked as she rose.

[Hopeflower]

There's no need for that, Vix wanted to say, but then the moment had passed and she bit her tongue. "Better than I'd hoped, if also slower than I'd like," she replied. "Probably to be expected in such things." She half-turned and added, "But I'm being rude. This is Arsenic. He and a few other friends came along to help me out."

The mute inclined his head politely, hiding the sharp edge of interest in his gaze, and offered, 'Pleased to meet you.'

[C S]

"The pleasure is all mine," Moira repeated, equally adept at masking what was going through her head with the set of her cheeks, lips and eyes. And what was going through her head was how familiar the scarred elf was. If she used her imagination and rearranged the marks on his face -- there it was. Family resemblance.

[The Kingpin]

"I don't think he'll let the Lords attack Cyndeyrn or Arashi, even if it comes to it. Thurduunax is also on our side. So I think that between the four of them and my grandmother, the other Lords can be brought to justice and properly punished. And if they resist, then justice will be brought to them by the sword...or teeth, as the case may be." His tone was perhaps a tad less optimistic than it should have been. In truth, he wasn't sure it would be that simple. Many dragons would see this as an encroachment on their own power within the clans of the Hueilin. For the lords of Khulruud, Maelgwyn, a fallen candidate for Onokruun, a traitor and a dragon who had never been a part of their community, to step in and depose the leaders of Khelisaad, Onokruun, Unguul, Burkhaan and Slaangen was liable to be seen as an attempt to vassal them to the two other clans. Even if it were to be handled in such a way that a new leader was to be chosen to take their places from among their own kin, there would likely be protests among them. He would have to speak to Buruq and Thurduunax, and perhaps his father, about how they intended to solve that problem.



The book in question was a dusty brown tome, its cover worn down by years upon years of use that seemed to adhere to its very pages as steadfastly as the ink with which it was written. He was careful as he opened the book, leafing through its pages in groups of ten, until he reached the part of the book he remembered reading over Vix's shoulder. The section discussing the Spirits.

It was here that he saw mention of the various names they went by, the most outstanding of them for him being the Iupan at first glance. Reading through the lines, he ultimately came across the word he was looking for. Ruhnin. His surprise was notable when he read further into the paragraph discussing it. As it turned out, the Ruhnin was a wolf spirit, one said to be wily, scheming and ferocious, known in olden times to unleash its wrath on the treacherous and the unfaithful. And yet, it was also known to be loyal to its own 'kind'. Like the wolf it embodied, it was protective of those closest to it, its 'blood'. It was from this loyalty that it drew its strength, which led to those faithful to it to form alliances with those they deemed trustworthy, at once strengthening their allies and empowering themselves through the Ruhnin's gifts.

He was surprised he had never heard the name before, but was given pause when he learned that different 'Packs under the Wolf' knew it by different names. Ruhnin was the oldest of its names, its true identity as first recorded in the halls of the Viveryn. Others were, more recognisably, the Marrok, and the Gladamir; the namesake of most of his weapons, and their school of Klaeddhur.

[C S]

Syria did not flinch at what could have become of the dragons in the event that they proved themselves unruly. Instead, she levitated Ceridwen's cup to her to refill it, then sent it back to the dragoness so that she could drink more of the tea she was partial to. "If they bring it to that point, then it is nothing short of what they deserve. However, as these things tend to be, I don't reckon the ones that benefit most from their rule will enjoy this mud-stirring..." she said.

[Hopeflower]

For a moment after Moira made the connection, the young psychomancer's irises glinted gray, only strengthening the resemblance. Then they softened to a curious gold, and he gave no other indication that he was aware she knew his father.

Vix, on the other hand, was studying the dragon that had held Moira's interest with an inquisitive tilt to her head. "Admiring the artwork?" she asked, mostly joking.

[C S]

"Not much to admire about a god whose worship invokes hatred," Moira replied in a manner far too relaxed for the subject matter. "I'm more interested in implications. Such as, the implications of a dragon who might be Greshlynk by another name coming back to Draxon and not touching the hair upon any elf's head." Her smile, inviting and warm, was also a touch knowing.

[The Kingpin]

"Unless they are so greedy for power that they decide that if they can't have it, no one can," concluded Ceridwen uncomfortably.

"Buruq is a more powerful psychomancer than anyone in Drakhunmiir...Probably more powerful than just about anyone in Aster, bar the odd Elemental here and there. I think, if things were to go too far, and he felt that chaos would reign over us, he would intervene to calm the unruly ones and restore order," suggested the Scholar. In all honesty, he had no idea if the Ambassador was even that powerful. But considering the ramifications of what would likely transpire, he had to hope so. Anything to ease his unrest.

[Hopeflower]

Before Vix had finished processing that, Arsenic snorted quietly and remarked, 'I think it's been established that most things to do with Draxon's culture and its people were rooted in ********.' His expression twisted, turned wry. 'Granted, I am biased.'

[C S]

"If there's anything I've learned in the last few days, Septimus, it's that there is a distinct pecking order when it comes to things like these. Serpents on two legs don't like dragons, and dragons tend to be shy of stronger dragons." Syria traced the rim of her cup. "Sometimes, a deterrent like that is all you need to keep things from falling to little bits."


"Understandably. You have to hand it to them, they're good architects." Moira went back to looking at the huge door, itself a testament of skill and mettle.

[Hopeflower]

'The one thing they had going for them, it seems,' Arsenic conceded.

Vix hummed her agreement. Then she shuddered when a cold breeze cut into her. "Maybe it'd be best to move our discussion indoors," she suggested, trying to control her shivers.

[C S]

"Ah, you two go right along," Moira replied. "There is a bounty of knowledge to be found past them, but these doors have captivated me for the time being." Her way of saying, she needed to start gearing up for getting back to work. There was always a lot to do, and the knowledge of that always overtook her laziness sooner or later.

[Hopeflower]

Vix huffed a short, bemused laugh and linked elbows with Arsenic. "I suppose I'll see you around, then." And taking care not to hit Moira with one of the doors that so fascinated her, they stepped in out of the cold.

'What colorful characters you meet in this city,' Arsenic remarked as soon as they were out of earshot.

Vix bit off the chuckle he startled from her and smacked his chest gently, pulling away. "You're terrible."

He flashed her a quick smile, a little too innocent. 'I meant it, actually, but if you say so.'

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar sighed at that, nodding. "It is a fact of the world. Might makes right. It's unfortunate that that will probably be how it must be done," he stated.

"I think," started Ceridwen as she parted her maw, the 'toothed' tongue in her mouth prodding at the mug as the tea was poured in to be swallowed swiftly. "...That you're worrying too much about it, Septimus. The Clans have always resolved their differences through violence. The leaders are constantly being replaced by younger candidates. Several of the current leaders have been there for too long. They're overdue for a change. I'm sure once their treachery is exposed, their challengers will step forward to do the honours of punishing and replacing them." There was a pointed snap of her beak at that, as if decisively ending the matter. Of course, it was not to be.

Septimus considered that for a bit, nodding. Ironic, he was being reminded of the workings of Hueilin society by one who wasn't nearly as deeply entwined in it as himself. "I am aware, Ceridwen. My concern is more rooted in the possibility of outright anarchy and conflict between the clans over this, rather than the loss of a few treacherous Clan Lords. Wide-spread death among our clans will not help us become stronger," he explained.

"Maybe. But then, it is how things have always been done. The weak die. The strong survive. You and your father are examples of that yourse-" stated the dragoness, being cut off by a rumbling snarl that seemed out of place on the Scholarly Elf, revealing that his draconic voice was still very much present, even in this form.

"I do not need to be reminded of the fallen exile, Ceridwen. I thought it was made clear that that is one subject I would rather not revisit," he warned firmly.

Ceridwen shrank back at that. "Sorry...I didn't mean to," she chirped sheepishly.

The sight of her looking startled and indeed, fearful, caused him to shrink away himself, realising what had just happened. "It's okay...I apologise for the outburst. It's...not a pleasant memory," he explained lowly, feeling somewhat guilty over the little incident.



Andruil looked up from the books he was cross-referencing as he heard Vix's voice outside the library, shaken from his thoughts as he straightened.

[C S]

Syria patted Septimus on the back. Her trust of the Scholar was solid, but human nature had her shaken by the sound. Her hand did not tremble against him, despite it. For all their talks of dragon anger and fighting, the nerve Ceridwen had touched upon was just a reminder that Septimus was not exempt from these passions.

[Hopeflower]

The innkeeper's voice was a higher counterpoint to Arsenic's deep tones as the pair approached, keeping their voices down. When they came into view, there was an exchange of gentle shoulder squeezes and a quick, affectionate press of foreheads, and then Arsenic had slipped off to hunt down Rowan. The gesture skirted the line between friends and cuddly; the only outward sign Vix gave that for all that the mute could try and speak sense, she still needed a little extra comfort. When she reached her table and stack of books, there was nothing to indicate that she was feeling anything less than her usual self.