Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

"You need not apologise too hastily, Desrium. Once you return from your venture into the desert, you will have ample time to speak with me on more cheerful terms while we wait for the Court Alchemists to construct the Eye. Andruil and Pyranex, at least, will likely need to rest for the day when you eventually return. I will have a feast held for you; a small affair, just us and my advisors," stated the Elven Lord with an amicable smile. "Do not rush out the door just yet. I will have some water skins filled for you. Andruil and Pyranex will need it," he added, one of the two servants from earlier departing the room, barely noticeable.

[C S]

The armored being nodded his head slowly. He'd gathered as much as to know protesting was futile. He also thought Andruil would appreciate the gesture, reminded of things that did not involve treason or battle. As for Pyranex, even if he could not eat half the things provided at the feast, the avian would be content sitting as an equal at the table. Granted, he would be sitting without a chair, and content probably was not the word to use. Vindicated, most likely bitterly vindicated.

Vindicated, more than anything, for being laden with the necessary supplies for the trip to see the matriarch of the sands. Waterskins, mostly, and mostly for his sake due to Andruil's protection from the elements, but to be made to carry it as the beasts of burden he resented so...

The sun was still high in the sky when they left the palace doors again. Just as Desrium suspected, Dhul'Valen was a definitive point through the heights of buildings and enterprise. He would have to put that shining beacon behind him, however. Back through the city they went, leaving its gates and continuing away from civilization. Out there in the vast open desert, only the nomad tribes had true dominion. Even then, only to a certain degree. It was for no small reason that they were the guides turned to when constructs of hulls and sails turned their ambition to the great, dry Asterian plains.

A wasteland to some.

Desrium was used to such places though. At least the sky was not red, and there was little to actually burn.

To the gryphon's eye high above, the plumes of dust were an ample trail to follow as he carried Andruil through the skies.

Down on the ground, Desrium charged across the hard-packed ground without limit, both sandstone, granite, and the few patches where cacti and small clusters of yellow grass grew. His boots wreaked havoc where they landed, kicking small potholes into the landscape with each tremendous footfall. To the hearing of his companions, the crashing of shattered rock just barely reached them.

His path swerved around the wandering dunes that went with the wind, and it must have been quite something to Pyranex to be outpaced by something running while he flew. Following the armored being brought him to the inexplicable savannah deep within the desert, when the sky was turning pink and true to Siril's words, the red over the Razors was breathtaking.

The marathon came to an end when Desrium slowed and finally stopped amidst a bluff before mesas that shot high into the sky in the surrounding area. He stood in the center of the rocky open, what he knew to be the shrine of the Life Bringer. He sat down and crossed his legs next to the slab in the ground that bore the handprint of ancient elves.

And so he waited.

[The Kingpin]

It was another while yet before the gryphon finally met the Armoured Being at their destination. Andruil leapt off the electrical predator's back and immediately went for the satchel, drawing from within one of the waterskins. For the past half hour, the gryphon had complained of thirst, one of many complaints, others being that harsh deserts were not places they were meant to go, that Storm Gryphons were masters of mountains, not churning dunes and scorching heat. His snowy pelt was meant to stave off the cold, not the blistering temperatures of the sandy wastes.

But he had pressed on, and brought Andruil to this place. And for that, the Knight was grateful. He wasted no time lifting the heavy skin over his head and tilting it, removing the cork as the Storm Gryphon lowered his head and tilted his beak upwards, allowing the refreshing liquid to flow down his parched throat. It was a couple of minutes before he stopped drinking, half the skin already drained. But after that, the Knight allowed himself a brief sip of the life-giving liquid, before corking it and putting it away. Their needs met, he finally allowed himself to take in their surroundings. Gone were the rising dunes and dead plains of packed sand. In their place, grass as yellow as gold swayed to and fro in the breeze. Trees could be seen in various spots all around them, mostly in dense patches interspersed with the tall grass and watering holes. It was a veritable oasis, a heavenly garden in the midst of a hellish desert. But that was something Andruil could contemplate later. For now, he had a trial to overcome.

Walking towards the Armoured Being, he saw the hand print in the earth, tilting his head curiously. "A magic doorway?" he questioned, unsure of what else it could be, and growing somewhat worried. Beyond his limited psychomancy training, he had no knowledge of magic at all.

[C S]

"More doorway than magic," was Desrium's response to that. "My hand cannot open it. Yours is what the Abirus-Sahari had in mind in an age that I am seldom able to imagine myself." He raised a hand to the outcroppings and protruding stone around them.

"You saw it on your way in, the design of this exalted site."

He looked up to the coming night.

"The stars are far out of place, but She waits within."

[The Kingpin]

The screeching cry of Shiryaz sounded out above, the Knight looking up and spotting the disturbance immediately. Smaller birds with sandy coloured feathers were attacking the griffinhawk, Shiryaz tearing into one that dared get too close, the injury evidently severe enough that it could no longer fly and plummeted to the earth. A sharp whistle from the Knight called the griffinhawk to him, his arm raised for the bird to land as he engaged his wristbow. Before he could make use of it however, a harsh rattling snarl all but deafened him, a shadow spreading behind him as Pyranex reared up, several bolts of electricity shooting forth from the tips of his wings, instantly killing several of the attackers, the remaining ones flying off. It was another moment before Shiryaz, none the worse for wear, landed on the Knight's padded shoulder, grooming his wings immediately afterwards.

"Aggressive creatures," commented the Knight as he approached the fallen bird, examining it. "A griffinhawk? But a desert breed...Strange," he mused, before leaving the dead bird's body behind to return his attention to the matter at hand. "Thank you, Pyranex," he stated, looking the gryphon in the eyes and earning a nod in response.

Deciding not to linger any longer, he kneeled, setting his palm into the depression on the ground, his expression uncertain, for once, as he looked at Desrium...

[C S]

Desrium laid his gauntlet on the plate only to turn it. With Andruil's hand in place, it gave no resistance. The ground rumbled after a weighty thud echoed from deep down, and the plate started its descent into the ground. The armored being said, "Mind your eyes," and not a second later, the residual dust that had drifted onto the shrine in the time since he had been there last was expelled with an unnatural gale. This revealed the rainbow geodes encircling the slab, which lit up and blasted their collected energies into the heavens in their sequence, missing their heavenly targets entirely but shining brightly over the dunes the three had covered in the journey. The proclamation of another proving their merit to the desert, accompanied by the glyphs that emerged on the surrounding rock faces.

Desrium got to his feet and beckoned Andruil to follow him as he walked towards the edge of the shrine. As they went, the stairs that spiraled into the earth elemental's chamber lowered themselves, air rushing up from the seams created by the sliding blocks. They settled in their places and created a collective quake, and then all was still again.

"She safeguarded life when the sands threatened death. She must have known that the two are destined to be in balance, yet this is her defiance," Desrium thought out loud.

[The Kingpin]

The Knight stepped forward to accompany Desrium, Pyranex grumbling at the realisation he could not follow. "I will wait here," he growled, before laying down, his for limbs crossing over one another. The Knight nodded, but said no more, pressing on, Shiryaz perched firmly on his shoulder; his one constant companion, as faithful as any blade. Behind him, he heard the sounds of snapping bones as the gryphon plucked up several of the dead griffinhawks, eating them whole.

[C S]

Desrium proceeded down the winding staircase. The light of his eyes guided the way until the soft cyan glow from yonder started reflecting off of the smooth, continuous earth that contained the passage. It made sense to him now why it was such an involved entrance, and it would soon be clear to the knight. His boot left the last step and he moved aside for Andruil to follow suit. They were beset by the immense treasure that was the Life Bringer's court. Its high domed ceiling glimmered with its golden buttresses that became the studded pillars that ran down the walls. Gold, silver, platinum. The wealth of nations could pale in comparison to this one chamber.

Desrium then made his way towards the wide throne upon which the tanned, clay-skinned queen lounged. The Life Bringer, endowed in turquoise and the black sash of mana that mirrored that of her black and gold hair, regarded his and Andruil's approach silently and unmoving. The armored being, more familiar with her than before, felt her magic at work. He caught her pupil-less eyes widening somewhat, and then the upward curl of the corner of her mouth.

"Welcome, newcomer," Cleotaire said to Andruil as she swung her legs about and sat up to greet the knight. "Your visit is a unique one I must say; many a stalwart soul has come before me to test the trueness of their grit over my many years, but this is the first time a previous patron has returned to my place of rest and rule."

Her attention fell upon Desrium at this. He was perplexed. She already knew the reason, surely.

"You are quite something, indeed. Of course, I knew that ever since you arrived at the surface. Septimus too. And I am sure this Andruil will not disappoint. You've done well in exercising restraint, I can tell."

All at once, images flashed before his mind's eye. Those of Morrelie and the True Blood Omen.

"And yet you are conflicted. I believe I can be of use in that regard."

"Ah." It was clear to Desrium what had transpired here. Cleotaire was gathering her insight as her powers of soul-reading allowed her to, and before either he or Andruil had any inkling of what was going on, she already had her tests formulated. For both of them. He supposed spending millennia testing the hearts of those who sought her out made her quite adept at what she did. Adept enough to test the heart of one without a heart -- or brain, for that matter.

"Though, I must comment on your means of arriving here, Desrium. I don't allow unmeaning guests in my home."

"Unmeaning?" Desrium asked. Was he not supposed to be here? Was he not supposed to guide Andruil? He felt Cleotaire reading the uncertainty within his spiritual self, the closest thing to reading his mind as anyone below divinity could manage.

"No, Desrium. Your footprints. Long and convoluted your route may have been to best the perpetually shifting sands, but still you've trivialized the most unforgiving quest this side of Aster. Mortals would perish attempting to follow you, but you have a knack for attracting beings that cannot be quite described as mortal, hmm?"

The armored being bowed his head.

"Worry not. Follow the same way back when you are finished here, and I shall wipe them clear of this land for as far as I can manage. Only time can make up for this slight, but at least those that do come across your path will find themselves lost when it leads to nothing at all."

Cleotaire then turned a palm up in front of her. A stone seat emerged from the ground behind Andruil. "With that said, take a seat, knight of Riverdale. Do make yourself comfortable."

[The Kingpin]

The Knight walked into the chamber appraisingly, his gaze shifting to and fro along the walls, slowly turning round as he took in the sheer size of the chamber. His feet kept leading him towards the throne at the end of the hall, but his mind was struggling to absorb everything he saw. It was once the Being upon the throne addressed him that he regained his focus, his gaze settling on her. He noted a curious smell coming from her, not unlike that of two stones freshly struck to produce a flame, but considerably stronger, and more complex. It was the smell of a living entity, rather than that of an inanimate object.

"The Life Bringer, I presume," he said slowly, still struggling to take in the details. He guessed there was as much wealth to be found in the walls and pillars of this place as there was in the entire Valenhadian treasury. Perhaps more. To an elf who had thought his kingdom the grandest, wealthiest and most powerful in Eastern Aster, it was a shock, to put it lightly. "I thought you'd be bigger...And perhaps not quite so beautiful," he commented off-handedly as he followed his Armoured Benefactor. "The curse of one who has seen too many monsters and not enough wonders in his time," he added quickly as he realised what he had said, not wanting to offend the Warden of the Sands.

[C S]

"There is no offense to be had. You are not the first to make mention of such a detail. I am already impressed, be it how your parents raised you or your experience in formal halls. One with a history such as yours... well let's just say those with a more celibate past have made motions without knowledge of who they were addressing," said the desert queen amicably.

[The Kingpin]

"I am flattered you think so highly of me, m'Lady," said the Knight as he sat down on the stone chair that had been produced for him, surprised by how comfortable it felt considering the materials from which it was made. Shape was everything, it seemed.

"But I do not see how one could mistaken you for any simple maiden. Your features are too immaculate, your aura so great even the magically blind can see it clearly. If you will forgive my saying, only a fool would mistaken a being of such grandeur for a mere Court Flower," he said with a gentle smile.

" As for myself...Well, I am hardly one deserving of such high praises as those you attribute to me, at least, compared to the company I keep. I am but a soldier who seeks to safeguard his family, friends and those whose protection is my duty," he continued. "My actions have not always been honourable, and my methods at times have been...questionable, to put it lightly. Before the likes of you and Desrium, I am nothing of note," he concluded.

[C S]

"You are humble," said the Life Bringer, throwing her arms over the back of her throne. "You are unable to imagine the multitude of fools who have come all this way, only to try to impress me with braggart tales and charm. The same fools who would confuse me for a 'simple maiden', to use your words."

[The Kingpin]

"I have no doubt. The curse of a leader of men is to see many fools who think themselves something they are not. Some deserve their fates...Others are simply fatally naive. Few are they who survive to know better," mused the Knight, his gaze momentarily seeming distant, a couple of examples of that very case coming to mind. He didn't linger on the thought, however. There were more pressing issues at hand.

[C S]

"Single-mindedness is a good thing," the elemental observed. She crossed her legs. "Of course, too much of it leads to... complications." Andruil felt a tinge of war in that moment. The anxiety of triumphing over his next opponent or suffer injury, even death. The weight of responsibility being at the head of a unit about to plunge into a formation of former countrymen.

"Very well, Andruil Lyall, Maned Knight of Riverdale. You come before me to better serve your people, and I shall oblige. Your trial to measure your worth will not be a physical one, but a mental one. Are you ready to proceed?"

[The Kingpin]

The Knight nodded slowly, bracing himself. He could already feel that this would not be a pleasant experience, but undoubtedly a necessary one. "Test me as you will. I will prove my worth," he said resolutely.

[C S]

The Life Bringer needed no further prompting. Desrium felt her magic take on a new form. It wasn't soul-reading as much as it was... an extrapolation. Beyond that, he could not tell what was happening to Andruil. And neither could the knight.

For to him, the journey to Thimeyra hadn't happened. In fact, much of his recent life had not happened. Where he found himself was in the court of Riverdale in place of his father. His advisors came and went with scrolls bearing news of politics elsewhere in the kingdom and past its borders. Nobles came to speak with him, and the knight, now duke, spoke with the authority of one who had been at the helm of the province for much of his life. A dull monotony that he did not question, how complete the illusion was.

Desrium saw Cleotaire tap a finger on her lap. He felt the fluctuation on her charm.

And Andruil was freed in this world within his head, unaware of how he got there. No, not quite, he knew how he got there.

Cleotaire was kind enough to provide him with a whole alternate life where the civil war never happened, and his memories reflected that from boyhood to position of duke after his father peacefully passed in his sleep one night. The wrinkle to this reality was his faithful brother joining with his treacherous relatives to the west, which put Andruil on the throne in the first place.

What he was unaware of was why everything felt so wrong. Details within his court, such as the presence of the redheaded elf he cared for so deeply, did not fit. Why was she here among the pleasantries of nobles? And why did he feel so strongly urged to run off with her and leave his post of many years now?

[Hopeflower]

Adding to the sense of wrongness was the fact that Vix looked completely at home within the court. Her clothes were finer than any Andruil had ever seen her wear, and the way she spoke carried unmistakable authority. She looked every inch the queen she would have been had her mother not been stripped of everything. And as it happened, she was - or at least, would be one day. What skin she showed was unmarred. It was very clear she'd never seen any form of mistreatment or war. This alternate reality had spared Vix the suffering that had hardened her into a survivor, and gifted her a different kind of shell.

[C S]

With Andruil well on his way, Cleotaire focused on Desrium. "So, a city. Trying to unite a broken kingdom. Trying to protect Aster one movement at a time. You've done well for yourself in only a few months."

"But you know my troubles as well," Desrium replied. "Will your test involve Morrelie? Or will you test me on how I handle Melok and --"

"My my, very conflicted," Cleotaire responded. "I offer no answers for your outstanding dilemmas. Only an assurance that you are strong enough to face them," she told him.“I sensed within that blade of yours a power unlike any other I have encountered, Desrium. I could not glean from my ability what its true potential was. Naturally, at my age, such a thing worried me. To know that something like that existed, and there was no way to tell if it was a threat or not.”

Cleotaire leaned forward and pointed a finger at the warrior in the dark shell.

“At the same time, I saw something within you. Far deeper than the superficial forces that brought you into existence, or the experiences you’ve been through since. You were never able to manifest a soul of your own, but the one you’ve bonded to is true and stalwart.”

“I suppose that is why she followed Liorick to the bitter end,” Desrium responded. He was not sure how to take these words.

He was one of many identities, but when it came to the subject of his soul, it wasn’t exactly him at that point. The boundary was very distinct, according to Desrium’s understanding of things. He had all of the great mage’s knowledge tucked within his mind, and only his impressions of the spirit now bound to his very being. Who she was as her own person was something Desrium had accepted, since Ithra’s time, that he would never know.

“That is where you are wrong. You have been wrong for centuries, Desrium,” The Life Bringer stated. She sensed the confusion he was unable to show and continued, “Liorick gave you an image of self to take and knowledge that you could not use. Aderalia gave you sustenance, but more than that, she has been responsible for the caliber of your character. Any other born into a world such as this in the way that you were would have been consumed by it, floundering blindly into the cruelty you have endured, twisted and corrupted.”

“The Blood Omen --”

“A manifestation of rage. A temper tantrum if you were any mortal child. Grief and anger remained where your thoughts and broken memories once were. Tragic and regrettable, yet the simple fact of the matter. Could you see yourself being like... Eredar himself? Or perhaps a member of the legion wiped from Tyrbenetus? Deliberate in your malice?”

Desrium thought, then said, “Eredar... there was a time when I did not heed the call to act against him. It was only the danger presented to Septimus, Syria and Jiier that persuaded me.”

“And when promised power in his army, even with the temptation of vengeance, you refused. That was no accident. Without your memories of Zuppoland, of your promise, you still chose to refuse.”

Desrium was quiet. Could Aderalia possibly still be alive? More than just a soul in a shell?

“She lives in you, Desrium. Her will is yours, and her will has been your greatest strength. More than your speed, more than how much you can move with however little ease, more than your inability to tire and feel pain. And that is why I trusted you to carry this unknowable power. In truth, I fully believed I would never see you again.”

“Septimus offered his friendship to you. I believed that we would see each other again because of that, though I could not have known it would be like this. Septimus is uncanny in that way.”

“Quite.”

[The Kingpin]

The Duke surveyed his court, enjoying the sight of merriment accompanying the solstice feast. It was a sight he had seen many times. He had always attended them, even before he had ascended to his father's station as one of the four rulers of Valenhad. But today was different. Something felt off. He had spoken to Valadrian earlier, and heightened the security of the palace. The Court Mage knew the purposes of every visitor there, from lowly vassal to foreign sovereign. His cousin, Dervin Lyall, the Commander of the Ducal Guard, had personally overseen the security measures of the palace. Each guard, each Silver Knight, even the two Black Hand agents present, were hand picked. The security was airtight.

And yet something was amiss. Andruil let his gaze settle on one guest in particular; Princess Vixen Adsila, the sole daughter of the king and queen of the neighbouring Adsila Kingdom; one of Riverdale's oldest allies, since the days when it was the capital of the Irrydil Kingdom. They were among the few allies that did not desert them when they fell to the Valenhadian Kingdom millennia ago.

He had met her periodically over the years, during visits between the kingdoms. Passing glances and brief conversations were the extent of their interactions then, however. And yet despite that, he felt he knew her. He could have sworn he did. In much more thoroughly a manner than those few conversations would have allowed.

The speech had passed. The merriment, the music, the dancing had begun. It was time to mingle. And with that, he rose from his throne, and descended into the Court...

[Hopeflower]

Vixen resisted the urge to sigh and rub her temples. It had been a long day of carefully nuanced conversation and dancing her way around offending the people around her, and it promised to be an even longer night. Half a year ago, she wouldn't have believed it was possible for a face to get tired, but here she was already aching all over from projecting politeness.

"You're slouching, Your Highness."

The redhead immediately corrected the very slight slip in posture and turned to face the speaker. Arsenic smirked at her with the kind of impudence that would have earned him a beating, had they not known each other so well. On the surface a servant, he was the closest thing Vixen had to a friend. His face might have been almost as scarred as the assassin Andruil knew him as, but his throat was unblemished and his speech came smooth and naturally, without a hint of magical aid.

"And you're as rude as ever," Vixen retorted. "Do try to remember your place."

"Of course, Your Highness." Arsenic clasped his hands behind his back. "Not in the mood for dancing?" he asked after a moment's almost companionable silence. Vixen's delay in choosing a partner wouldn't go unnoticed forever.

"Believe it or not, I'd like a break from polite conversation."

Arsenic's hand found his heart, faking mortal injury. "You wound me, m'Princess."

"Oh, hush," Vixen scolded, even as she failed to resist a small smile. "Don't cause a scene."