Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[Hopeflower]

The innkeeper tilted her head quizzically, but she didn't ask. Instead Vix reached up to rub at the scar that crossed her shoulder, soothing away the phantom sting of the old injury. "Someone like that won't be reasoned with." There was something hard to place in her tone. It might have been terrible certainty, or it might have been regret. "If one holds on to a belief with everything they have, and they have the power to act on their hatred...they won't let anything stop them."


A few minutes of internal struggle, and Viho found himself standing with his hand on the door handle and his forehead pressed to the wood. He sighed, decided he'd kick himself later, and reached out before Rowan and Arsenic left his range.

We can speak properly later. Seek me out.

Rowan jumped, muffling a curse. Arsenic's spine stiffened, and he aimed a glare upwards. Why the hell would I want to? he asked, aware as soon as he thought it that it was a childish response.

It's your choice. I feel it's long overdue, however. Viho closed his eyes for a long second, then opened the classroom door and concluded, I'm sure you do, too. Before Arsenic could reply, Viho pulled back and collected himself to continue the lesson when the rest of the students returned.

[C S]

As an impulse, or reaction, maybe, Syria gently drew Vix into her arms again. They both shared mutual pains, however different the causes were. In that protective hold, the elf may have even seen a few transient manifestations of emerald around the mage's back. Feathers?

"It is so apparent to you and I, isn't it? What right does someone like this have, accusing another of being a monster when they are the most monstrous of all?" Syria shook her head defiantly. She could not let her cause be swayed. If evil will stay steadfast then she had no other choice but to do the same, no matter what. "I need to try, Vixen. If by some stray miracle, if by some happening, I can call upon favor from the divine as Desrium has done, then maybe I can save him for a change."


A few eyes regarded Viho. The ones who raised their brows and questioned him silently, though he was very much able to still hear them, were justifiably confused as to what they just witnessed. Fewer still looked upon the one-armed elf with sympathy, though they could not know all the hardships he'd endured. Among them, no other was more understanding than the one who was nowhere remotely human.

Funny how that worked out.

[Hopeflower]

Vix sighed and hugged back with what might have been surprising strength. "If you must, you must," she agreed wearily, for she knew that what she'd just said was also true of people who held opposite beliefs. Those who had to try and save everyone, no matter how likely or deserving they were of that mercy. "But I can't stress this enough - you need to be prepared to protect yourself and your family. Don't lower your guard." Vix pulled back to hold Syria at arm's length. Her fingers tightened just a little on the mage's shoulders.

With all of the weight that came with having blood on her hands, she added, "And don't hesitate."


"I apologize for that," Viho said to the room at large, pointedly not making eye contact with anyone for any longer than he normally would. He kept as straight of a face as he could manage, striding toward the front of the classroom as though he hadn't been deeply rattled by the confrontation. About the only sign he had been was the fact that he was a little paler than usual. "If I had been aware that my son was in the city, I would have given you all the day to yourselves."

[C S]

Syria's response was hesitant, ironically. "I..." She blinked. Family. Once, twice, a stray tear worked its way down her cheek. "Beshayir and Ceridwen won't be anywhere near Morrelie..." the mage said distantly.

Family.

"But if she tries to hurt my dear Septimus..." Syria let her head fall forward.

Before her mind's eye was the black rage of Yuraelia, driving a fist into Septimus' underside, lifting the Scholar from the magnitude of the blow. She had been the bait for that ambush. In the span of another blink of her eyes, she saw it prowling on the other side of the brambles, hunting the dragon in much the same way she imagined the Zuppo mage hounding after Desrium.

She remembered hitting the sylvari. That wasn't the same thing as bringing harm to another person, though...

But when caught in a magical snare, the difference between a vengeful spirit of ages past and a vengeful mage of ages past were nil. It was the memory of wrangling with that construct of ire and despair for Septimus' safety that brought forth green wings, washing Vix in that light, banishing the blue of the archives and replacing it with a viridian domain.

And Syria, one again, was oblivious to the spectral raptor that was many times her size, which pulsated with energetic bolts and regarded the elf with fearsome blank eyes.



While no words were uttered, and the gazes remained, the murmuring of a few thoughts melded together. From the few discernible fragments Viho was able to pick out of the collective, the consensus was that no one had any idea what to say. This was a kind of bizarre not yet encountered by any of them, even for their enigmatic school. After a few more moments of silence, Gwenviere sat up in her seat and opened her mouth.

Her bark of disapproval alone was enough to convey how she felt to such a suggestion, much less the words went with its meaning.

[Hopeflower]

Vix flinched, caught completely by surprise, and lost her grip on Syria when she took an involuntary step back. After the initial shock, she cleared her suddenly very dry throat and straightened her back. "That's it," she said, a little hoarse. "That's exactly it. Up until you absolutely have to, give peace your best shot." She clasped her hands behind her back to hide their shaking. "Then if she gives you no other options, you give her hell."


Gray eyes snapped to Gwenviere, but other than that, Viho offered only a tilt of his head to acknowledge her disagreement. It wasn't a matter of seeking sympathy from his students - the fact was his personal life should stay personal.

"As you were," he said, and though he spoke quietly, his voice carried easily and invited no arguments. They were, after all, here to learn. He hadn't bargained on them learning as much as they just had about him, but with a little luck, nobody would feel comfortable enough to pry.

[C S]

Syria's sights shot up to fix Vix a very worried look. "What?" she blurted out, wondering what had come over her. It took her a few more seconds to notice the change in their surroundings. A few more still to sense her own magic radiating in ways it shouldn't be. Slowly, Syria tilted her head back. By then, the green apparition had dissipated into a green wisp that circulated about the Daavenian mage. The blue of the lamps above reclaimed the archives as its own.

"Oh," Syria stated plainly. She looked back to Vix and twiddled her fingers together. "That... I didn't mean for that... er..."


Gwenviere looked about the room. Solaurn had her hands folded over her slab, going through her ministrations to tap into its reservoir of power. A few of the other students had gone back to their meditation, while others remained staring blankly at their teacher. The vaun's lips curled in preparation for another displeased bark.

And that was when a familiar blurry shape shot past the majority of the room's large window. Dahnae braced her back against the glass, heels balancing on the edge of the stonework outside. She rapped her knuckles against the window while looking over a shoulder. "Lemme in."

[The Kingpin]

"It's easy to forget how similar we are to those around us. Superficial differences, things like our size, strength, the fact we're clad in scales and horns and armed with claws, fangs, fire and magic...These have no impact on the larger picture. In the end, we're not so different," stated Will.

It was something that got the Scholar thinking. Reflecting. It had his thoughts going in directions he did not want them to go, to how a being such as Morrelie, that was no doubt intelligent, rational and educated at one point in time, could become a blind, mindless, ignorant monster. It was a train of thought he imagined Syria would be proud of him for, but it was one that frankly only made him sick to his stomach with himself.

It was as he was considering these thoughts that the tropical reef around him faded, the rich cyan water too. He was still afloat, weightless, adrift, but he no longer had a point of reference. It was perhaps fitting then, that his thoughts emulated that.



Ceridwen stretched with a yawn as she stepped out from behind the building. She had decided, earlier that morning, that Beshayir's long class day was ideal timing for a snooze. Boredom was a thing she constantly had to wrestle with these days. A young, energetic dragon like her wanted to be out in the world, exploring, adventuring, seeing new things and meeting new friends.

Still, she owed it to Septimus to watch Beshayir, at least so long as they were here. After all, at the end of the day, he had saved her life. A few weeks of making sure the young elf wasn't threatened by the people of this city was the least she could do.


"Perhaps not. It was still quite a spectacle, however," stated Faruq's voice behind the Daavenian Dame, having been roused from his reading by the sudden outburst of magic. He stood, framed by a pair of book cases, his staff in hand, the stone at its tip shimmering with white energy that soon faded.

[Hopeflower]

Vix's head turned quickly, a half-embarrassed and half-apologetic look on her face. "Oh - I - we interrupted you. I'm sorry," she said quickly, fidgeting with the strap of her bag.


The distraction was a welcome one, and Viho moved to open the window, resolving to put the incident firmly behind him. His problems were not something his students should have been concerned with. And as soon as Firel walked through the door, Viho was back to teaching as though nothing had happened.


The pair walking away from the school was certainly unprepared for a horse-sized dragon to step out in front of them. Considerably smaller than Aviva, but no less dangerous for it if push came to shove.

"I'm just saying - sh*t!" Rowan hissed loudly enough to turn a few heads, quickly stepping to put Arsenic between the dragon and herself. Surprise beasts were really more his strong suit - her hand had already gone for and was tightly wrapped around the connected hilts of her swords before she knew she'd reacted.

Lovely thing, quick reflexes.

Arsenic blinked at the scarred woman, torn between amusement and sharing her alarm. In the end, the temptation to tease her won out. 'You really shouldn't get so worked up,' he said. 'Sh*t's a very normal thing.'

"Arsenic," Rowan nearly growled.

[The Kingpin]

The Assassin's reaction startled the young dragoness, the Thunderkin hopping back a couple of feet, bumping a person behind her to the floor as she curled up, pulling her neck back almost under her, wings pulled tight and splayed, the feathers on her head fluffed so widely her head looked quite literally like a ball of fuzz, only the first foot of her beak-like snout and her eyes peeking through the mass of down.


"You needn't worry, sister. To be honest, the interruption was welcome. I would have fallen asleep if I had to read those tedious historical texts in silence," responded Faruq jokingly. Reaching behind him, a small clay cup, as tall as a shot-glass and only slightly wider, floated over, the Storyteller sipping its contents casually. "It's why I'm drinking this," he added matter of factly.

[C S]

"So he wasn't relaxing after all." Syria felt marginally better about her excuse to be scarce. She would have liked to not need an excuse at all, but at least it meant she hadn't disturbed the Storyteller's work. Up to now. It was only a short relief. "He overheard all of this, didn't he?" Unlike most other times of self-inquiry, the mage was fairly confident she knew the answer to that one. The smell of summer's thundery dew and Faruq's drink wafted around her as aromas of torment. Not much she could do or say to get out of this one.

"Desrium won't be pleased with this," the mage said, mostly to herself. It took a fair degree of will to not bury her face in her hands. If he didn't want his closest friends to worry over his troubles, then what would he make of one of his advisors doing just that?

[Hopeflower]

'Relax,' Arsenic soothed, reaching out to ruffle Rowan's hair. He didn't take his eyes off of the startled dragon, making it clear that he wasn't just speaking to his old friend.

"Totally relaxed," Rowan retorted, reluctantly straightening from her half-crouched stance. Her hand didn't leave the weapons strapped to her belt, but her grip might have loosened a little. Maybe. I'll just, uh, leave the dragon to you.

Arsenic folded his arms loosely, reassured by the familiar press of his forearm sheaths, and let himself cock one shoulder and hip almost lazily. The amused golden glance he shot Rowan's way completed the appearance of being at ease. 'Yes, you look it.' He returned his attention to the spooked dragon. 'Forgive my friend, here. She's not overly fond of surprises.'


Vix couldn't help a slight wrinkling of her nose. The smell of the drink was strong - though it lacked the tang of alcohol that she usually associated with that - and unfamiliar. It filled the air with a vaguely earthy and not entirely unpleasant aroma. In a way, it reminded her of tea, but it was different enough that she was almost certain it couldn't be.

Trying to give Syria the time to collect herself, Vix cleared her throat and said lightly, "I can only hope I won't have the same trouble."

[The Kingpin]

"Maybe not," responded Faruq to Syria's statement. "But as one of his top advisors, I am duty-bound to address the problem and find a solution to it," he explained, sipping the drink slowly. He considered Vix's statement with some curiosity, tilting his head ever so slightly. "What do you mean, miss Vixen?" he inquired.



"She's surprised? How do you think I feel? I've been here for hours, minding my business. Then you just suddenly pop up, shout and reach for your knives!" chirped the dragoness indignantly, her feathers flattening down somewhat as her wings pulled tight to her flank. It was clear by her words that Rowan's reflexive moves had not gone unnoticed, the dragoness's gaze fixed on her and Arsenic, fearing they may follow through with the motions. Where was Septimus when she needed him?

"Crazy damned lizardbird," grumbled the man behind her as he got to his feet. That earned him a hiss as the dragoness turned so she was looking at both the assassins and the man, backing away somewhat towards the entrance of the alleyway, feeling threatened by all the collective aggression. Why do humans and their long-eared kin always react this way towards me? she thought despairingly.

[Hopeflower]

Vix jumped, startled at being addressed by name, but she supposed even that might have carried into the library. She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Well, I'm kind of here for 'tedious historical texts'," she said, chuckling a little. "I'm looking into my family."


"Swords," Rowan corrected in a mutter.

Arsenic's stance didn't change, bordered on apparently genuinely at ease. 'Relax,' he repeated. He gave Rowan another look, this one a little stern. It made him look more like his father than he would have appreciated her pointing out. 'You aren't nearly this jumpy around Aviva, and she's much bigger.'

The scarred woman made it obvious that she was rolling her eyes at him, but she did let go of her dual swords. For the moment.

'Excuse the jumpiness. No threat was intended,' Arsenic directed at the dragon. 'Being caught off-guard in our line of work means we're dead very quickly.'

Rowan had to hand it to him - it was impressive that he could go from barely refraining from killing someone to smoothly trying to convince someone else there was no danger in such a short amount of time.

[C S]

"Ah ha," Syria said with a nervous tenor. "I'd say you came to the right place, then." She gave Faruq a pleading look and silently beseeched of him "I know it's your job but... stick to that plan from before, please? If... if you don't hear back from me, then you can bring it up to Desrium. But please... give me a while... a week or more." That was reasonable, wasn't it?

[The Kingpin]

"Hmm...The time was not enough for me to read the books I have on East Asterian peoples. But if you are going to be in the city for more than a couple of days, you're welcome to come here and look through my collection. I would say you'd find something in this library on the matter, but knowing what I know about Draxonians and their feelings towards elves... Well I would not want to get your hopes up, at least not until you've...made certain that there are books on Elvish history here." he stated, hesitating on occasion as he tried to remember the correct word for what he wished do say. "I will wait a week before discussing it, but I will not wait until then to prepare a contingency plan," he reassured the mage.



Ceridwen slowly calmed herself, considering the two assassins with a sceptical eye as she considered what the red head -strikingly similar to that one instructor in the school, she noted- had said. She found herself pondering the nature of their line of work, that danger was that close, but it wasn't a pressing issue at the moment. Instead, she simply chirped, "Well I am not trying to do that to you. And anyone who was wouldn't do it in a crowded street," she observed handily.

[Hopeflower]

'The smart ones wouldn't,' Arsenic said dryly, reflecting on his experiences the last time he was in the area. He didn't turn at Rowan's attempt to cover her snort with a cough. 'Never hurts to be a little cautious regardless.'


"In all honesty," Vix started, not quite pessimistically, "I'm not expecting to find much I don't already know, if anything. My family must have guarded their secrets closely, and with the kingdom gone and the Adsilas with it, well..." She trailed off, glancing at Syria. She shook her head and spread her hands. "But I wouldn't have come if it wasn't worth looking around."

[C S]

Syria looked the exact opposite of reassured when Vix looked to her. If she didn't have her gloves on, the two elves would have seen how pale her knuckles were as she held on tightly to her staff. The pressure was mounting, and she didn't like the idea of a contingency plan in the works that she didn't know the details to. She appreciated it as much as Faruq must have appreciated her collusion with Desrium, which is to say, not at all. That much was fair, Syria figured. It's what she got for trying to keep secrets of her own. A week, however, suddenly felt like a very, very short time to do what she wanted.

Nevertheless, the mage fought through her anxieties to hone in on what Vix said. She hushed her own insecurities and doubts to retrieve a memory. What was it, again? Oh, right. Desrium had told her and Septimus what he was up to in those times when they visited the city, finding him notably absent.

"Actually, Vixen, I think you have more luck in that than you think," Syria spoke up. She cleared her throat to get rid of the quiver that accompanied her words. Leaving one contentious topic and going right onto the next.

Though she encountered the name previously in passing, through books and her time traveling with Andruil, she realized she had been a bit too accepting of the supposed revelation that her innkeeping friend was a part of that dynasty. "Oh, Desrium, you're so much better at concealing things you already know," she said inwardly, and then reminded herself that the armored being's expression was static and that his mind could not be breached, on top of his tendency to neglect things not specifically asked about. He had much going for him as far as that was concerned, whether intentional or not.

"... You see, while Septimus is preparing for... things, and isn't available to offer his aid in your research, Desrium has mentioned his own scholarly pursuits from back before we found him again a while ago. As it so happens, he had gone traveling shortly into founding Brodudika to aid the scribes in assembling its store of information and culture. His last trip was in search of Aster's original place of worship, the cathedral dedicated to Eredar."

She couldn't have known that was when the trouble with Morrelie began.

"... And then he returned with... elementals... that must have been... something." She glanced to Faruq, then continued speaking to the other redhead, "Anyhow, his first outings were a little more 'in the region', so the speak. He walked to neighboring kingdoms and settlements, speaking to those who would speak to him, and carrying a few tomes that he'd been gifted. It stands to reason that those tomes would be in these archives. I've seen Desrium's room -- doesn't lend itself well to a personal library, let's just say. And if the scribes have made anything of his work yet, then those writings would be here as well, if not the big library near Septimus Place."

[The Kingpin]

The Storyteller's expression lit up at the realisation. "Of course! Desrium's collection is bound to have something of use!" he exclaimed. "Between those books and my own collection there must be something that will help you," he stated as he finished the drink in the tiny cup. "Good thinking, Syria. I had forgotten about that," he admitted.


The dragoness nodded, satisfied with the answer. It was then that it occurred to her why the elf looked familiar. "You were at that village in the woods, weren't you?" she chirped, the statement seeming very random in comparison to what they had been saying mere moments earlier.

[Hopeflower]

'And you're a friend of Septimus'.' Arsenic shifted his weight, feeling the cold starting to nip at him. The dead of winter was not a great time of year for standing around and chatting. 'Arsenic,' he introduced himself. 'The jumpy one is Rowan.'

The jumpy one is going to remember that, Rowan warned him, clearing her throat. "A pleasure," she said, wondering when exactly it had become normal to introduce themselves to dragons.

Probably about the time Arsenic had decided he preferred their company to the staring and murmuring that came with explaining his handicap to people, actually, now that she thought about it.


Vix was left feeling a little overwhelmed and more than a little surprised. Not so much at hearing this from Syria, but definitely to meet a stranger so willing to help. She supposed - and the thought brought with it its own special kind of discomfort - that it might have something to do with her name. She wasn't sure what to do with that line of thinking, and so set it aside to deal with later. Much later.

"I - well, I suppose I still shouldn't get too excited," she said slowly, but even as the words left her mouth, hope was unfurling in her chest. "That's definitely more than I thought I'd have to work with, though."

[C S]

Syria fidgeted about when one particular detail came across her thoughts. A companion of an unfortunate implication, which was lukewarm in this context. Somewhat somber about it, humming with introspection, Syria let her staff descend enough for her to stand up on her own two feet again. "It's all young history, morbid though it be," said the mage after, holding the rose-tipped instrument to herself.

"Those who still stand were bound to leave their impressions upon pages." Another glance to Faruq. Not only did he hold all of Thimeyra's history in his mind, he intended to add all of eastern Aster's to it, as well? Nothing short of a spectacle in of itself, no matter how less flashy it was than an avian avatar. "Those who could recall standing in those holds, passing through the gates of elven cities, no different than we do today. You may not uncover any family secrets, but you may understand just how impactful these nations once were."

Syria hummed again. Young history. In the same books Vix stood to reclaim her past, she stood to read about the Blood Omen.

Another painful irony.