Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[Hopeflower]

Rowan had barely drawn in her breath to try and brace for a painful collision when the girl was past them. "You saw that, right?" she asked Arsenic, who'd craned his neck to look behind them. His gaze followed the reckless stranger's movements intently before he spoke.

'If I had to guess,' he said slowly, 'that was one of the students.'

"Some reflexes on her," Rowan mused. She tugged on Arsenic's arm again. "Come on. Now I'm curious."

The mute hummed thoughtfully, his stride lengthening somewhat until he was the one leading Rowan.


After the initial start of surprise, Vix dragged herself away from her thoughts and found herself wearing her usual friendly smile. "I was hoping someone here could help me out, actually," she replied, turning to face the other woman. "I heard this was the place to go if you're looking for information."

[C S]

"And the city's filled a bunch of helpful folk, soooo..." Moira dragged out the sound and dragged a fingertip in her other palm as if to reason out some complex problem. "I'd go ahead and venture that you're in the right place," she said, glancing up from her hands to Vix, before winking. "Now let's see..." Moira tapped the finger on her chin, passing her gazes throughout the lobby. "Who else is just standing around with nothing to do -- ah, it can't be I..." she pointed at herself and pouted, her wide hat appearing to scoot forward on its own to hide her face.

[The Kingpin]

"That depends on the saga I am to tell," came Faruq's voice just beyond the library's farthest shelves, the purple-robed advisor wrapped heavily in his robe, keeping warm.


Adrift truly was a fitting term for what the Scholar was experiencing. Adrift in the lake, adrift in his own thoughts. Eventually, he noted it had brought him to an odd sight; what seemed to be a volcanic vent in the lake, spewing smoke and ash. He knew that no such thing existed in Drakhunmiir, the volcano long since extinct. But the vent itself was not the most peculiar thing there.

What truly surprised him was the sight of a familiar beast, a vast leviathan dotted with luminescent spots, wide glowing eyes and a frightening array of lance-like teeth adorning its long crocodilian maw. It was Thurduunax's marine form, the Deep Guardian he had first encountered two years ago. Its eyes shone with the same orange glow so characteristic of Fury, and upon closer inspection, the Scholar noted that, rather than being purely Thurduunax, this Guardian seemed more like what Septimus's interpretation of it would be, were he to take up such a form. The significance of the fact his mind had wandered here was not lost on him. Threads.

"The curse of the complacent is to see those tragedies that are avoidable unfold before them." rumbled the beast with a voice like a landslide.

"Excuse me?" questioned the Scholar, taken aback by the odd statement.

"You know damn well it's true. So soft for that mage that you forget your duty. It's complacency, pure and simple."

"What do you mean?" questioned the Scholar, the leviathan circling him slowly.

"By refusing to engage Morrelie, by plotting to point her elsewhere, you will have innocent blood on your claws. You are sentencing others to death by humouring a pacifist's pleas at the behest of a psychopath. Who then is the real monster?"

"We have no choice! You heard father; she may well destroy us outright if we try to engage her directly," retorted Septimus.

"We always have a choice! All we would need is to call upon Buruq or Thurduunax to wipe that miserable stain off the face of Aster!"

[C S]

"... Huh." Syria let her head slowly flop to one side, regarding the old elf at a progressively skewed angle. He was in a sitting area, a small square framed by four benches. He was sitting on the one opposite to her and Desrium, looking into the passage of bookshelves. It looked like a fairly comfortable spot, with a table in the center, upon which his drink was laid.

"Greetings, Faruq. Has your day been well?" Desrium said, leaving Syria to her surprise. It had been said that Desrium was always where needed to be, when he was needed. Syria never expected to experience it. It was... something.

[The Kingpin]

"Very well, all things considered. I maintain that we left behind our tolerance of cold when we left the West, but that is a hardship I must learn to live with, and I do believe I am managing well," responded the Elvish Advisor as he unfolded his feet from under him, setting them firmly on the floor and standing to greet the two more formally. "A pleasure to meet you again, Lady Letant," he stated graciously.



"You know it is not that simple," responded Septimus.

"Of course it is. They are dedicated to the peace of this continent, Buruq especially. Thurduunax would do it simply to mitigate the risk to the Hueilin," retorted Fury.

"By doing that I would be no better than she is," stated Septimus.

"We are not killing and maiming someone for something that is our fault. She has brought this fate upon herself. Our duty as a Justicar is to exact that justice upon her. How can you not see that?" snarled the leviathan.

"In her eyes, she is exacting justice. However deluded, she believes what she's doing is right. She is not an objectively evil being to be crushed. She is not a demon," explained the Scholar.

[C S]

"Likewise, Storyteller," Syria replied. She sounded like she was still in a daze. Catching herself, Syria straightened her neck and bowed deeply to the elf. "Desrium asked me a... favor, if you would. I have an errand of a kind to run, and he'd like me to tell you when I was finished. I can't contact him directly, you see, because... uh."

"He is aware," stated the armored being.

Syria straightened and cleared her throat. "If it is alright with you, of course."

[The Kingpin]

"I see. So you would use the Eye? The aid of the Scholar?" asked Faruq as he sat back down, once more tucking his legs under him, cross-legged in a bundled mass of his robes, a hand reaching for his qahwa, taking a sip of the beverage.


"You had little trouble killing the dragonslayers, and yet the same could be said of them. If anything, she's far worse than they were. In fact, she's not too different from the crazed drake you killed in that same incident, simply because it was insane and a danger to others. So why do you choose to kill them, yet spare Morrelie? Is Desrium's life really so cheap? Are the lives of innocents so worthless to you?" snarled Fury as he drifted behind the smoke column of the vent, his burning gaze, for a brief moment, reminding Septimus of Eredar, swathed in shadow as he was.

"No." The Scholar's response was decisive, the vitriol of Fury's reasoning difficult to tolerate, seeping into the Scholar's own tone despite his effort to maintain the calm that was the purpose of this meditation. "But I cannot make a decision like this lightly. Not when there is a chance to end her violence. I saw the dragonslayers and their motives. The ones who were doing it for fear that their leader would do them harm were spared. The ones who took joy in it were killed. The drake itself was suffering far more than I could hope to heal. It was already dead, languishing in its final days, tearing into anything it could reach. Its death was a mercy. But Morrelie is a mystery to me. If there is a chance I can make her see her errors for what they are, I will take it. The duty of a Justicar is not simply to kill. And I refuse to let my role as one of their Order be reduced to that of an executioner."

[C S]

"Both. I'll be with Septimus when I do the errand." To speak so casually about it... was Brodudika really well off not knowing that Morrelie was out there? Would the mage take out her anger and hate upon the city, should she ever find it? The poor people of this city of friends would let her in with open arms...

Another reason to get things over with quickly. After Morrelie was sent elsewhere, she and Septimus could consider warning the city, should Desrium see it just.

[The Kingpin]

"As you wish," responded Faruq with a kindly smile, reaching for his book, which had been left face down while he spoke to the mage. "I would welcome you to have some qahwa, but I'm afraid I don't have any extra cups. You are welcome to join me to talk, if you would like,"



Fury was silent for some time after that sharp retort. "Do as you will... But remember... You were warned. Should what I said come to pass, it will be on your head for ignoring me," concluded the leviathan, seeming to dissolve into the smoke of the vent, leaving Septimus alone, adrift once more.

[C S]

Syria laughed nervously. "Oh, I would only pester you with questions about your paperless storytelling... I wouldn't want to cut into your time relaxing," she said. The mage looked to Desrium for aid.

"I wish you well in your endeavors to stay warm," was all he had to offer. Looking to the Storyteller's drink, he said, "May its heat remain with you for a long time."

[The Kingpin]

"May your ventures be ever fruitful," was Faruq's response to the peculiar but nonetheless endearing statements. He chose not to tell Syria that what he was doing was far from relaxing. The East and its convoluted politics made for very dry reading, and the reason for his qahwa was less to stay warm than it was to stay awake.

[C S]

Syria waved goodbye. She returned her journal to her bag in the same instant, then told Desrium, "I should be letting you do your job as well."

"Will you be okay?" asked the Stalwart, to which Syria replied, "I will be after things are handled. But for now, it's just finding a way to keep the nerves from fraying too much."

Desrium raised his helm and took a good look around. "You are welcome to stay here," he suggested.

"I just might," Syria replied. "If I wanted to look into something, where would I start?"

"At the entrance, there is a catalog of the tomes here, and the topics they cover. Consecutive volumes are arranged by date."

"Handy," Syria said. "Wanna know what else is handy?"

"Pray tell."

The mage held her staff in position and sat atop it, held up by her magic. "I'll see you off when you get back to the front," she said before steadily going vertical, then strafing over the bookshelves.

[Hopeflower]

Vix's lips quirked and she lifted a vaguely intrigued eyebrow. On any other day, she might have given the apparent invitation in the woman's body language a bit more consideration. Today, however, she settled the strap of her bag more comfortably on her shoulder and extended a hand. "Forgive me - Vixen Adsila," she introduced herself. "I'm looking for information on my family."


Upon entering the school building, Arsenic dodged a few more people on their way out and looked around with interest. Rowan let go of him and took a few steps toward the receptionist's desk, only to pause and rethink bothering him when she noted how the man sitting there looked stretched thin. Instead she turned back to Arsenic and asked, "Impressed yet?"

'Almost,' Arsenic answered distractedly, taking a few meandering steps while he cast his magic outwards, seeking to count how many people were in their immediate area. 'I'll know for sure when I see how many types of magic this place teaches.'

"Let's ask, then," Rowan said with a measure of reluctance.

That receptionist already seemed like he was having a bad day.

[C S]

"Moira Everby, your highness," said the mage with a bow, whipping her hat off of her long black hair with a flourish. The strands were so dark that some of them seemed blue, like a night sky. It was a fleeting sight, as she rose and planted the hat back on her head. "I'm no historian, but I do know where we've got some history books here," she went on to say, holding an arm out towards one of the passageways beside the grand staircase.


"You're not just talking to yourself, are you, miss?" The question wasn't much of a question, but an affirmation of what the man already suspected. He was, for all its worth, a veteran of much strangeness, and it did not bother him anymore. It just weighed on his soul. Noting a striking similarity in the elf in the couple, though he had both arms in good condition and just a greater number of scars, the suited man nonchalantly said, "Psychomancy is on the seventh floor. The resident big cat has left the building, but the rodent is still up there."

[Hopeflower]

"Ah, just Vix, if you don't mind," the innkeeper said with a laugh that could have been a little nervous. She fidgeted with her bag again, taking a few steps toward the indicated passageway and adding, "Thank you. If you could show me to the archive, I'd like to get started right away."


Rowan hesitated, turning to her fellow assassin and mouthing "rodent?"

Her bewilderment would have been funny if Arsenic wasn't just as puzzled. He started to lift one shoulder to shrug, then shook his head. 'I'm sure we'll find out. Thank you,' he directed at the receptionist. He started for the stairs and after a second's pause heard Rowan's footsteps following.

"I suppose there's no harm in poking around a little on our way up," Rowan said, lowering her voice a little. It wasn't quite a question.

'Probably not,' Arsenic answered after some thought. 'Still, let's not be more disruptive than we can help.'

A few flights into their climb, Viho's back straightened abruptly. He tried to play off the motion by moving towards the windows, doing all he could to keep his breathing steady when his heart was beating in his throat. He knew that presence, would recognize it anywhere.

His fingers tightened on the windowsill until they whitened at the knuckles. This...was going to be ugly.

[C S]

"It would be my pleasure your humbleness," Moira responded, and took the lead with an easygoing stride. Free-going and defined by her surroundings, like water. It was not a long walk down the lighted hall, and there was only one door at the end. Who would have expected a library underneath the stairs?


Upon opening the doors to the third floor, the two were greeted by the sight of a line of doors. Each one was a classroom. It seemed ordinary enough. They must have thought that the layout was stacked the same way for six more floors, how mundane it was. Yet, like the floor above, there was a detail in the architecture that did not quite make sense. A lone door at the end of the hallway that was not marked.

Walking towards it, the two heard splashing, and giggling from what must have been a younger class.

[Hopeflower]

"Thank you," Vix said again, relaxing some as she followed closely. She might one day get comfortable with openly acknowledging her lineage, but being called "Your Highness" or any variant would never sit right with her. She did her best to shake off the surprise and uneasiness. There was a job to be done, and she couldn't afford distractions.


Rowan cocked her head at the door, a question in the motion. Arsenic stepped back after a moment. There were enough clues to give him a fairly good idea of what was going on without potentially interrupting a lesson for curiosity's sake. 'Hydromancy, most likely,' he murmured, nodding toward one of the classrooms. 'We can come back.'

"As you like," Rowan replied evenly. "You could sign up here, you know. It might be worth looking into."

The redhead hummed noncommittally. 'We'll see.' If he was going to do that, he realized, winter would be the best time for it. Sami and her kin were hibernating, so there was no danger of her taking advantage of him not being there. Not that it seemed she planned on twisting their arrangement to her advantage...yet. It just paid to be wary.

"Was that one of your completely uninterested 'we'll see's, or are you actually thinking about it?" Rowan asked, following him with her gaze when he turned to continue upwards.

'It was a 'we'll see' we'll see,' Arsenic answered, swallowing a laugh at the soft, frustrated noise she made.

[C S]

Moira opened the door, and the room past it was almost too grand to be a nook near the rear of city hall's lobby. Such a rich collection of knowledge, tucked aside like this. But it wasn't without its style. The mage in black and gray cocked her head, then stepped aside. "Benefactor," she greeted the armored being, who was walking toward the exit.

That was some rare timing. Very rarely had Moira seen him out in the city, much less on occasions like this.

[Hopeflower]

The surprise had Vix hesitating just a moment longer than was polite before it occurred to her that she was also blocking the door. She stepped back quickly. "Fancy meeting you here," she said, smiling. "Good to see you again, Desrium."

[C S]

Desrium bowed his helm to Moira, and to Vix he replied, "I can say the same to you. Forgive my inability to speak with the mind, or I would share the news with Septimus." He stepped onwards, careful not to brush against either of them, or get caught on the door frame. His truncated movements were very apparent in his attempt to keep things as they were. Once in the hallway, he said over a shoulder, "You will find Syria inside. Perhaps she will be more successful in that regard."