Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

The desert queen nodded. "I know your reasons well, Andruil. You will have to forgive Antar for his small talk, and Desrium for his habits, for they neglected to tell you in full about my role as arbiter in judging the virtues of those who seek me out. I know you far more intimately than you are comfortable with. I know that for a fact. However, it is for those reasons that your trial was so. In your new position, you will find yourself faced with decisions you will oppose in your kingdom, be it soon or distant in the future. You will have to do what is right unerringly, no matter where you stand, inside its borders or no."

Cleotaire sat back in her throne. One hand reached up to her bosom, her fingers resting on the "flesh". They then sank in, the queen's body rippling with a velvety texture as she reached into herself.

"You have proven it to me, and most importantly, to yourself, that you will do what must be done." Her voice was nonchalant. Desrium, for all the strangeness he had been through in life, could not have anticipated what he was seeing. Cleotaire found it amusing as she plucked the black shard out of her body. It was a tiny thing, immaculately cut without any tool. Her figure returned to what it was, and Desrium settled imperceptibly.

The Life Bringer leaned forward and held the jewel out for Andruil to take, the object small enough to rest upon a few of her digits.

[The Kingpin]

The Knight rose to his feet once more, walking forward to accept the gift, a small smile on his face. "Antar does like his small talk," he agreed. Lifting the small stone in hand, he observed it closely, bringing it to his eye. The dark stone seemed to shift between blacks, greys and browns, the shades changing as he held it. "As beautiful within as without," he said as he looked up from the jewel to the Elemental.

[C S]

"Off with you now. Flattery will not earn you any more favors from me," said Cleotaire with a chuckle. She looked to Desrium, whose energetic appearance subsided to the dark shell of his usual state of being. "And as for you..."

She let herself lie on one side and craned her neck to place her lips near the paladin's helm. "I know your sense of hearing is impressive, but so is Andruil's," Cleotaire said. Her voice was inaudible to the Wolf, so absurdly low was the frequency which she spoke to Desrium. But he could hear her as clear as ever. "How about you keep our conversations within my quarters? I would not want his words biting him in the tail-end with Antar."

"If that is your wish," Desrium matched her volume.

"Good metal lad," the queen replied, then sat rolled onto her back.

[The Kingpin]

"As you wish, my Lady," was Andruil's response with a small, good natured bow, before backing away. He waited, however, until Desrium had finished speaking to the Elemental, and was at his side, before making his way for the stairs. "So that's how you keep your boyish good looks! You must teach me how to do that!" he stated as he observed the Stalwart Paladin's armour mending itself. It must've been as gruelling a physical trial as his was a mental one.

[C S]

Desrium stared after Andruil, unable to bring himself to comment on the request. To teach him how to... this. Desrium looked at himself, restored to the day he was "born". No one else deserved such a curse. Lighthearted as the comment was, Desrium could not take it as so. He did not let it stick with his thoughts, turning them towards Cleotaire.

"He does not know your name," Desrium stated, maintaining the inaudible volume.

"I am used to such things," the desert queen responded aloofly likewise. "I do find myself taken with his personality, though."

"Fickle elementals," Desrium said, "I cannot read your soul, but I know your loneliness. And you know mine."

Cleotaire tilted her head. "And what's this?"

"I am asking you to rethink Septimus' offer," Desrium said. Suddenly, this child of little over eight-hundred was the one engaging with the queen of eons.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do not let your title and age stand in the way. I lose no respect for you if you listen to me. You have nothing to lose," Desrium told the elemental, who looked genuinely stunned by his forwardness.

"You really are something, Desrium. Ah, of course. Your will." Cleotaire smiled. "Alright. Here is something else to astound you."

She sat upright once again, crossed her legs and folded her hands. Desrium felt her magic surge. He knew this spell. He felt it with Septimus. Whenever he used the--

"Scholar?" Cleotaire said aloud in the most conversational tone, despite the shock it would be to the dragon to hear her voice so abruptly. "I have a friend of yours with me. He insists we speak."

[The Kingpin]

"Cleotaire?" responded the Scholar's voice across the psychic link. It was a startling circumstance, to be spoken to by the Elemental of the Desert when he was soaring above icy peaks, but he gathered himself quickly, focusing his attention on her and away from the dragoness, the Elvish girl and the Daavenian Mage with whom he had been conversing a moment earlier.

His first reaction was to worry, as usually beings of such power only contacted him when some world-ending threat required forces to oppose it. But at the mention of a friend, he eased.

"Of course he does. He has the uncanny ability to surpass mountains in his stubbornness," he finally stated, a hint of amusement in his tone. "How fares the Life Bringer of the Asterian Desert?" he asked, the smile she could not see conveying itself through his tone.

[C S]

"I fare well. On the subject of uncanniness, however, I can't help noting that I've just finished dealing with another friend of yours, Scholar. Sir Andruil. Desrium did mention you had a way of bringing about such meetings," Cleotaire replied. Desrium, satisfied, lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs.

[The Kingpin]

"It seems I do indeed," agreed the Scholar. He couldn't exactly argue. He was now in the presence of one of Desrium's friends and a girl from Thimeyra. And another Hueilin. None of them would have met if not for his travels in their company. "But what business did Andruil have with you, if you don't mind my asking?" he inquired. He found it peculiar that Andruil would be in the desert at all, knowing his affinity for the Assassins' Inn and the peaceful company of that curious bunch. "Nothing of concern, I hope?" he added...

[C S]

"Nothing of dire consequence, no. Andruil needed to see if he was worthy enough to hold the responsibilities he stands to inherit, and Desrium gave him the means to do so. That is not why I have contacted you, however." Cleotaire paused. For once, her demeanor as wizened matriarch fell. She was insecure as to how to proceed. How was she to phrase her... terms?

"Friends speak freely with one another," Desrium suggested. The Life Bringer gave him a puzzled look. Insightful one, wasn't he?

Cleotaire hummed, then nodded. "Yes... well. I am speaking to you to say that I... have been convinced. Convinced to accept your offering of friendship, if it still stands, Scholar."

[The Kingpin]

It took him a moment to realise what she'd said, but the joy was instantaneous. "Of course it is, Cleotaire," responded the Hueilin cheerfully. "You needn't consider it so formal a matter. If there is one thing that defines a good friend, it is that you should feel at ease when speaking with them," he added...

[C S]

"Ah... in that case..."

The desert queen shifted uncomfortably. To break the grandeur of that same title, to... lower herself? No, that wasn't it. To be at ease, as the dragon had said. Many a hero came before her, and for each meeting she was nothing less than what deserved to be immortalized in legend and reverence. Before that, she was a warrior of her own cause, to survive when the entire world was a battlefield that no living person could comprehend.

This was so very different.

"Cleotaire?" Desrium inquired.

"In that case," she continued, more firm in her words this time, "I... apologize. I know that you too, cherish the memory of Jiier. And that the last thing you ever wanted to do was to face Desrium. Understand that it was a necessary hardship that came with your trial, but all the same, my sentiments."

[The Kingpin]

"I understand. I am thankful for it all the same. I emerged from the trial stronger than when I entered it, as I am sure Desrium, Andruil, Antar and many others have. You have my gratitude for that, Cleotaire. You need not apologise for doing what you felt was right. After all, is that not one of the things you tried to teach us in your trials? To do the right thing, to make the right choice?" asked the Scholar amicably.


Andruil sat at the foot of the stairs that would lead him back to the surface, observing the Stalwart Paladin and the Warden of the Sands as they seemingly spoke to nothing. He presumed she was speaking to Septimus, as who else was there that they knew of known as The Scholar? It was an unusual experience, however, seeing someone speak to a person, or rather, dragon that was not there. Out loud. He did not question it, however, and waited patiently.

[C S]

"Yes. But do be careful with this mindset; it is a dangerous path to walk. Many misguided souls act believing they are upholding righteousness, that their sins are a means to a greater end."

The queen's words resonated with Desrium in a way that she may or may not have intended. If only he could bring Morrelie here, maybe then she could see the error in her ways. She could hate him as much as she wanted, just as long as she realized just how she had fallen. That would be enough, Desrium figured. If only.

Cleotaire glanced to the paladin, then to the knight across the way.

"Look at me, so eager to teach. You will get that one for free, Scholar, but any further wisdom requires braving the sands to see me personally. It is how these things go," she said. "Take care."

[The Kingpin]

"Of course. Perhaps I will visit some time soon," he offered half-jokingly. "You too, Cleotaire," he finally stated, his link to the Elemental fading not long afterwards...

"It is an interesting power to possess, I must say. To speak with someone when they are not there, from anywhere...It truly is a miracle of magical power," mused the Knight thoughtfully. He rose to his feet, taking another look at the chamber and the Elemental, wanting to preserve the memory forever.

[C S]

"A power you will know yourself in a short while," the Life Bringer replied, and then beckoned Desrium to stand.

"It's been a pleasure," she said, addressing both him and Andruil, "but it is time for you to take your leave."

Desrium bowed his head. "Back the way I came."

The Life Bringer nodded and returned to her lounging. Desrium turned, but before he went to join Andruil, he said, "You have my friendship as well. When the time comes, I shall find a way to speak to you again." He walked on without looking back at the elemental, who regarded him with some degree of interest.

She hummed to herself. What a surprising bunch, these were.





"Cleotaire?" Syria's voice echoed in Septimus' mind, her hands busied with the construction of her staff. Her book of instructions floated near to her while she sat on the floor of the satchel, not far from her desk, with all her supplies gathered around her to be called upon when needed. "My, how unexpected. I wasn't listening in or anything, mind." She knew full well that Septimus was aware the entire time.

[The Kingpin]

"Farewell, Cleotaire, Life Bringer of the Desert. It has been an absolute blessing to have met you," said the Knight as he finally began his ascent to the surface.

"Are you sure you weren't listening in, dear?" responded the dragon amusedly, a spectral avatar of himself materialising behind her, looking over her shoulder at what she was doing. In one corner of the satchel, Beshayir was distracted with something herself. A stick of charcoal, a piece of paper, and the back of one of the Scholar's larger tomes as a work surface. He would have to investigate that, too.

[C S]

"If you have to ASK..." Syria deflected casually. She threw her hair over her shoulder in response to the Scholar's magic, and the eyes she felt looking over her back. She'd come to recognize the telltale signs of Septimus' apparition. It was welcome "company", no matter how much she played it off. Staff building was technical work, and the procedure had the practicing mage tense. Any levity was appreciated, but she could not be sidetracked. The integrity of her new staff was at stake.

To one side of her was the bottle with the previously illuminated blue substance. It had since stopped glowing after Syria applied the chalk bricks into the mixture and stirred with some gentle applications of her magic, as per the book's instructions. That was to be the adhesive agent that would secure the staff's core inside the wooden casing, and boost its innate power. However, before she could apply it, she had to finish preparing said core.

The steely vitorite was something Syria couldn't help but admire as she lathered it with the anointment mixture. The substance was a clear, viscous liquid that took on a most entrancing quality when the mage used her magic on it, the light in turn refracting off of the metal in a tantalizing way that almost radiated the mana it would soon circulate in its design. Once the vitorite was coated in the protective coating -- for both its sake and hers -- she wrapped the fibrous material around its length.

The bottle of adhesive rose from the floor and Syria held the pale wood up. Some of the adhesive was poured into the hollow of the staff first, then Syria lowered the core into the groove. More adhesive was applied to fill out the small gap between ore and case, and it was not long at all before the staff was more or less completed.

All that was left was to cap off the staff, so Syria funneled the last of the bluish adhesive from its container onto the open end of the staff with her magic, and focused intently. Though her gaze was intense, in reality she was doing her best to channel her inner Scholar. Her green light brightened considerably as she poured all of her ability into her craft. Small bolts of electricity started to appear around and within the substance as she brought her vision to life.

Syria let out a tired sigh of relief when it was all over. The adhesive substance, by the end of it, was turned into a blue rose, mostly opaque and disarmingly crystalline in appearance. Her new jewel.

"So, Seppy, what do you make of this?" she asked, holding the staff out for his miniature self to see.

[The Kingpin]

"Impressive," he said, his spectral avatar's brows raised as he walked to one side of the mage, taking a closer look at the object. "It will need to be tested to see what it can do," he added a moment later as he his form shifted, the former Elvish appearance morphing until it seemed like a mix between an oversized cat and a very, very small version of his draconic form.

[C S]

"And what a source of excitement that will be," Syria agreed. She turned the staff over in her hands and eyed the elegant curves of the jewel-flower. She'd done this. A solid, tangible testament to her growing skills. It made her feel light inside. At the same time, she knew that there wasn't much time left in the day.

"Another time, though," she said, and then stood up. She showed Beshayir her new magical instrument, then floated it over to the wall to rest against a cushioned shelf. She gathered up empty vials and bottles and set them on their own shelves for future use.

[The Kingpin]

Septimus's avatar paced over to the Elvish girl, laying part way in her lap as he watched her draw, the image still too vague to make out. Syria's staff seemed to draw her attention away from the picture, which she put away as she stretched with a yawn. She would continue her little art project tomorrow.


Andruil, meanwhile, had ascended to the deep blue of the night sky, his eyes taking a moment to adjust from the light of the stairs. The sand shone silver in the light of the moon, almost full, as the growling of griffinhawk and gryphon drew his attention to the side. He was greeted with the sight of a tug of war between Pyranex and Shiryaz, one of the smaller, burned griffinhawks caught between their beaks. He had trouble believing this was one of the same ones the gryphon shot down earlier, and the gryphon's posture suggested he had had plenty to eat while they were away.

"What in the gods' names...?" he asked, completely baffled.

Pyranex thrashed as Shiryaz jumped, the griffinhawk's talons digging into the corpse as it was torn in half. The bird of prey hovered briefly before landing and picking away at his share of the spoils, even as Pyranex swallowed his half whole.

"Good meal?" asked the Knight with a quirked brow.

"These creatures are chewy. Too much muscle, not enough fat. But I am hungry. I will take what I can, and they're easy to strike down," rumbled the gryphon.

"I see. Well, meal time is over. We have travelling to do," stated Andruil to the sound of the grumbling beast before him. Pyranex reluctantly rose to his feet, flexing his wings briefly before furling them, waiting for Andruil to climb into the saddle, Shiryaz ripping voraciously at his meal, seemingly not caring. He would follow after them as soon as he was satisfied, Andruil knew. "Lead the way, Desrium," he stated to the Stalwart Warrior as he braced for flight.