Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

"Thank you. They taught us some of it in the temples when we were young. Not in detail though. I think you could maybe learn more from the ones Antar sent here? Baba Qasas will know. He knows everything," she offered with a smile that was easily lost in the shadows of the gloomy sky and thickening forest.

"Who's 'Baba Qasas?" chirped Ceridwen, the name feeling strange and awkward on even her tongue.

"Oh," responded Beshayir, realising that nickname wasn't particularly known outside of Thimeyra. "The Storyteller. Faruq... Yuruyeili," she stated, realising something as she said the name. She would have to tell Septimus and Syria about it when they returned.

[C S]

"Five-hundred years."

The thought resonated with Desrium right as the first shafts of light, easily missed, reached his crimson stare from deeper in the dark woods. A ray of hope in the cloudy murk. "Of course," he said, nodding his head. The gesture swept trailing wisps across their surroundings, making the branches and barks strobe between scarlet and shade in a mesmerizing manner, one that made the offputting otherworldly qualities more enthralling and almost beautiful.

"I will make time to speak with Faruq personally to hear what he has to say on the subject," Desrium decided, remembering that he had the privilege of glimpsing the machinery of fate through the desert queen and Antar's stories. Five-hundred years. Faruq was an instrument of destiny, all unawares. Could the salvation of Morrelie be yet another feat his life was entwined with?

[The Kingpin]

The dragoness was about to inquire on who they were talking about when the glimmer of light up ahead drew her attention. Tilting her head, she fixed the source of the glow with a stare, and soon figured out what it was. Beshayir, by this point, had noticed it too, the play of light through the branches having distracted her from the conversation at hand. "What is that? Are we there already?" she asked.

"I think so. The colour looks like firelight. I can smell the dank and dampness of the cave from here. And the flames. And the water and ice and upturned earth. The elementals."

"You can smell all that?" asked the elf, taken by surprise.

"Hueilin in many cases have a sharp sense of smell. Most Unguul don't, but I was lucky enough to get my mother's nose rather than my father's."

[C S]

Desrium was glad that the latter portion of the walk had gone quickly for the young girl, and that the austere skies and trees had left the thoughts of her and Ceridwen alike. A glance over a shoulder confirmed what he suspected: the two were not far behind him, keeping up at their respective paces. "Yes. The cave is not far away. It is fortunate that we will arrive before the rain does," he said to them. He could not say the same for the other visitor walking the path, though. Desrium did not know why Natalie was coming this way, but he was already weighing the likelihood that he would be walking her back to Brodudika. The alternative was her spending the night at Evisa's station, yet Desrium doubted that would be the case. Natalie did not seem like one who would adjust well to being surrounded by nature's will personified.

The area immediately around the burrow was illuminated by yellow and orange light, a warmth that was far removed from the stormy evening, but one that did not combat the chill of the whirlwinds that raced across the forest floor. Not until Beshayir and Ceridwen entered, at least. If presentation was a vital part of an introduction however, then the inviting bonfire-glow emanating from the ground was enough to make the cavern seem like more than just a crude hole dug into the ground by a living boulder. The uneven ridges left in the shallow slope leading into the heart of the burrow may as well have been stairs.

[The Kingpin]

"Not quite a Hueilin den," commented Ceridwen as she crossed the threshold and felt the rough yet carved stone that made up the floor of this abode-to-be. "It does feel homey though. For a hole in the ground."

"Hueilin dens?" asked Beshayir in a way that prompted elaboration.

"Hueilin carve dens in cliff faces to use as their homes," explained the dragoness. "Smooth stone, gentle curves and elegant decoration tends to be common. Septimus could probably show you an example of it. I hear his family has a nice den."

[C S]

Given what he knew of the Hueilin and their protective demeanor over their mountaintop domain, Desrium assumed Ceridwen was implying a mental showing, rather than a true visit. Ruminating over the notion, he figured the task of taking outsiders to Drakhunmiir was a steep undertaking, a brew for disagreements. Disagreements that could easily escalate to physical violence due to the traditions in question. On the other hand, Desrium knew Syria...

"Fascinating. I don't suppose Syria has expressed similar interests in seeing how the Hueilin live?" he asked Ceridwen, almost certain he already knew the answer.

[The Kingpin]

"She has," responded the elf and dragoness in unison, looking at each other in surprise a moment later.

"Septimus decided it would be a bad idea to go there now. There are problems happening there and we wouldn't be welcome," said Beshayir disappointedly.

"Don't take it too deeply to heart," responded Ceridwen, "Septimus would never say it himself, proud and eager to boast of the Hueilin's kindly benevolence as he is. But in truth, I doubt anyone that wasn't a Hueilin would be welcome in Drakhunmiir, now or any other time. Even Buruq, despite being the definition of an ancestor, the most respected and revered creatures in our society, isn't exactly welcome." Halting shortly after descending a few steps, she looked over her shoulder at them, one of her pale eyes shimmering in the harsh shadows cast by her snout against the controlled fires around them. "He's tolerated because our traditions command it, and because his power is enough to silence anyone who would turn a blind eye to tradition. The fact is, he could destroy all of Drakhunmiir. We aren't eager to give him reason to consider it, especially considering his...eccentricities."

It was about that time that she realised that the fires around her were, in fact, elementals. The reaction was visible in how she held herself, becoming very stiff and wary as she angled herself to keep her eyes on the majority of the ones she could see, at least until she caught up with the even more disconcerting Stalwart; a facet of her instinct that made little sense even to her.

Beshayir had apparently noticed them before the dragoness, as her movements were a lot more natural and relaxed. She walked up alongside Ceridwen and moving past her with little concern, even managing a smile and a wave when she passed particularly close to the fiery beings.

[C S]

"I am optimistic that there will be a time when the Ambassador will reintegrate into the company of his kin," Desrium commented while they were greeted by the denizens of the hollow. Unknowable to the pair was his moment of clarity. Buruq being in Aster explained the ripples of rumors he'd heard of a fantastic dragon appearing out of the blue. What he assumed were exotic tales were grounded in truth, and more relevant to his interests than he gave them credit for.

A lesson.

Nonetheless, bright eyes, some of which did not appear to be eyes, watched them enter the expansive, orange-lit cave. He kept his other thoughts on Buruq's situation to himself. In a roundabout way that upended Desrium's expectations, he saw a commonality between Drakhunmiir and Brodudika, and a metaphor in the undying ancient. The tensions of changing times jostling fundamental beliefs, juxtaposed against the presence of one that some found foreboding. Desrium took it as another way how the worlds of man and dragon were not so different in the end.

[The Kingpin]

Calming somewhat as the elementals proved themselves to be passive, the dragoness continued. "Maybe. But I wouldn't bet on it. Even if our beliefs could be reconciled, he is far more powerful than any of us will ever be. And that will breed fear."

"But wouldn't he be considered a good friend and protector to the rest of the Hueilin?" asked Beshayir, somewhat confused.

"To the young ones who are born and grown in his presence, yeah," reacted the dragoness. "He might have a chance with them. But for everyone who saw him pass through their defences like they were nothing, who forced his will on them to defend the Stormweaver... They'll probably never really accept or trust him, even if they were to pretend otherwise."

[C S]

"Theirs is a long story that some will not listen to. The only thing to do is go on regardless, and in doing so, it may be possible to change some minds," said the Paladin. Far younger than both wyrms he may have been, Desrium had much experience walking this road taken by those who moved on vast wings.

On the other side of the cave, he spotted Evisa amidst a small crowd of crystalline figures. Not crystal, he corrected himself as he reached the bottom of the slope. The glassy surface of their skin was too opaque, and horn-like formations protruded from their bodies in a number of different ways. For some, they were horns, antlers and crests. For others, they were primitive limbs lacking digits in favor of shards. And in some still, they were brilliant iridescent plates of armor. Both figuratively and literally. Some of the young elementals had sprouted broad, sharp spines that lined their backs in rows, interspersed with thagomizers, while a select few wore suits of jeweled protection over their concealed cores.

Jewels, metallic and mineral in composition. Desrium recalled something he heard upon first encountering Koganusan in the volcanic stretch. Armor elemental.

They technically existed.

"Interesting."

[The Kingpin]

The bristling elementals below made Ceridwen uncomfortable. While the earlier ones were flame incarnate, these ones were decidedly more exotic, and more importantly, dangerous. As a guest however, she felt it rude to act upon her discomfort. No sense giving Septimus even more ammunition against her on the matter of lady-like behaviour. And so, she decided she would tolerate it.

Beshayir was quite a bit less disturbed and quite a bit more fascinated with what she was seeing. Awe glimmered in her silver eyes as she shifted her attention from one elaborate elemental to the next, noting the way the light danced off their forms in beautiful displays of colour.

[C S]

The three hadn't gone unnoticed by Evisa up to now. It was difficult to miss Desrium, what with his unique effect on his surroundings. More than that, she wouldn't have needed advanced notification -- though it was appreciated -- to know that he had others with him.

The majority of her congregation had hushed their silent chatter, and all but the most bold of them were retreated to their niches in the cave. Eyes, despite some of them not looking like eyes, watched from the surface of stilled water within puddles and pools. Eyes above in the shadows of striated rock peered down curiously, and warily. Eyes in fire blazed, too conspicuous for the flaming elementals to retreat from their places atop outcrops, but that same refusal to move was indicative of their surprise. Fire was not supposed to be so inanimate. That distinction belonged to the beings of earth and ice, which had humorously amalgamated together to create a patch of wintery land... underground, in present company to heat and light. The lack of recent snowfall and the distance from the mouth of the burrow was notwithstanding. Eyes tracked the trio even in the knolls of snow and rock.

While the three gazed upon the unfamiliar strain of elemental expression, the elementals gazed back in awe of the first dragon they had ever seen. In their young minds, the small feathered dragoness was the creature that split the night with its voice back before the Solstice. Evisa, meanwhile, stood rigid with her arms crossed. She was trying to make sense of this glimmering growth spurt that a few of her charge had undergone.

[The Kingpin]

Ceridwen perked up once she finally laid eyes on the Lady of Light, her feathered crest rising alongside an excited twitter. "Hi Evisa!" she stated as she quickly approached the Vanguardian. She tried to ignore the fact she could practically feel the eyes on her, in order to give off an impression of confidence.

[C S]

Broken from her dumbfounded stupor, Evisa made to turn to face the voice. She ended up catching in the corner of her vision that her helmet allowed, the closest thing to a trotting dragon she had ever seen in her life. The closest thing to a trotting dragon she may ever see again, she thought. The viking shook her head and Desrium cocked his helm. It appeared they had not caught Evisa at her most collected moment.

"Rude of me," she stated generally, looking off into the cavern. A good hostess met her guests at the door. What served as a 'door'. Her attention went to the dragoness and she said, "Ceridwen Maelgwynni of Clan Maelgwyn! Good to see you again. Welcome to fort Den Mother, for us den mothers." Evisa leaned over to one side to peek at Beshayir. "Ah. So that's the tot she's been watching over."

[The Kingpin]

"Den mother?" asked the dragoness, confused by the term. "What's that?"

"She's more of a den sister," corrected Beshayir in a small, quiet voice as she looked up at the armour-clad woman.

"I'm a hundred and thirty-something years your senior," jabbed Ceridwen looking over to the elf.

"We're both going to live a very very long time, and we already think alike. We're sisters," stated Beshayir firmly.

[C S]

"Blood of the covenant; I've seen sisterhood take up some... uncommon... shapes," Evisa replied. The dwarf and her small furred compatriot came to mind immediately -- she still hadn't learned what she was supposed to be.

Short-lived distractions aside, Evisa turned her head to glance at the hard-shelled elementals behind her, making sure they weren't getting antsy over their novel situation. Fortunately, they were kept in check the same way their relatives were. They wanted to observe before engaging. "I can see now it wasn't any challenge for Desrium to get you all to listen to him."

Evisa looked straight again and took a knee off to Ceridwen's side, holding out a gloved hand to Beshayir. "I take it by now you've heard my name a few times, but I haven't heard yours," the Lady of Light invited her introduction.

[The Kingpin]

The elf took the Lady of Light's hand with her own, looking down at her with a look that suggested she was hurt by the gesture, however subdued that look was. "Beshayir Hifaadhi of Thimeyra," she responded, giving the half-elemental a handshake that was perhaps firmer than would have been expected for a teenage girl.

[C S]

"And you're a magic student. Go figure..." Evisa mused, and resisted the temptation to chuckle. As long as there was something to be done, there was no sense in doing it by halves. Be that thing attending magical instruction, or giving someone a handshake. "You may know my name, but you probably don't know much about where I'm from," said the viking as she placed her hands on her angled thigh. "Vanguard is a place up in the north where the air is cold and the ground is snowy all the time. Most of the time. Sometimes it rains and it turns to slush." Evisa made a sound to express her distaste. "What's Thimeyra like?"

[The Kingpin]

"Harsh. But in a different way to your home. "Thimeyra is a city that lives where everything else would die," responded the elf with a deadpan tone that matched her completely serious expression. "We live in a desert where the sand and sun kill and consume everything. Eggs cook in their nests and meat dries on their racks. Water has to be kept inside buildings and under the ground because the heat will burn it away in its barrels and jars otherwise," she elaborated, holding her hand out, palm to the ground, and flipping it over from side to side, to demonstrate that the water was not the only thing that seemed to be burned away by the sun. Indeed, her complexion matched the tales of traders speaking of a charred people, scorched ashen by the sun; a story that was not so unlike the tale the Thimeyrans had for why they looked so unlike their ancient brethren.

"There's no water there, outside of Thimeyra. Not water that a human or elf can live off. The heat usually kills them before they die of thirst. The ones who live that long are the unlucky ones. Them and the victims of the dust storms. Those can bury whole convoys alive if they try to walk through them. That is why we use sandships."

[C S]

Evisa grunted. "Nothing beats a tough hull and a hardy sail. Not even hot sand, it looks like," she said, enjoying the same connection Desrium had earlier. "My people thrive with their ships. They can and have gone fortnights over the seas to the lands beyond, and then endured the same journeys back again. I guess we're the lucky ones -- we can always head somewhere warmer in our ships, but you desert elves may appreciate our ice and slush more than we do." At that, Evisa laughed.