Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

That was something he didn't expect. He had heard of the large gift the Scholar and the Thunderbird's Chosen had brought Desrium, but he hadn't expected the contents to be honey of all things.

He managed to rein in any look of surprise that may have been on his wizened features, replacing it instead with an amicable smile. "I have word from Septimus," stated the Storyteller.

[C S]

Desrium's red light reached out from his eyes as wafting tendrils. "None from Syria?" he asked, the glimmer falling on Faruq's cheeks, reflecting in his eyes.

[The Kingpin]

"Septimus informed me that she was resting when he spoke to me. It has apparently been a trying few days for them both. But Septimus said that the threat will not come here for some time," responded Faruq, taking another small sip of his drink.

[C S]

"I see," Desrium replied, and the light in his eyes subsided until they looked like polished rubies. Of course, he should have suspected that the two of them would have been drained from their endeavor, Syria especially. They were alive, though, the important detail. Alive and tired, but alive all the same. On top of that, they intercepted the Interceptor and escaped with their lives.

He never doubted them, but Desrium found it difficult to accept that he needn't have worried for their safety.

Desrium lifted the mug up to his opened mouth and poured honey down his throat. "Should Septimus contact you again, I would like you to share my deepest gratitude with him, and tell him how much of an inspiration he has been for much of my days since we first met." His voice came through as clearly as ever, regardless of the steady stream of honey.

[The Kingpin]

At first it seemed the Storyteller had not concentrated on what Desrium was saying, more distracted with the fact the Paladin spoke as he drank, neither halting for the other. That apparent preoccupation turned out to be false, however. Faruq smiled as he mulled over the Stalwart's request. "I did not understand the message he wanted me to give you at first. But now it makes much more sense," he stated thoughtfully.

[C S]

"Oh?" Desrium gradually tilted the mug away from himself, thinning the honey into a strand that eventually broke and fell past the metal of his jaw, allowing him to close his mouth.

[The Kingpin]

It took the Storyteller a moment to collect his thoughts, the image of a person literally drinking honey still difficult to fathom, the sheer thickness of the liquid making him thirsty through the thought alone, the remainder of his water swallowed in a single large gulp.

Clearing his voice, he responded, "He told me to inform you that 'Fate's reflection may not be a perfect mirror, but it is a mirror nonetheless. You have been his shield too many times for him to count. But that doesn't mean you couldn't do with a shield yourself on occasion.' Your exchange of niceties and wise words is almost uncanny. Unprovoked. It is what I would expect from two brothers, not friends."

[C S]

"Uncanny," Desrium repeated. "To call him a brother is an honor I seldom feel worthy enough to claim, and yet I dare to consider him more than such. I dare to consider myself blessed, still."

[The Kingpin]

"Hearing how he speaks of you, it is clear he shares those feelings," responded the Storyteller contemplatively. "It reminds me of one of the old tales of the Abirus-Sahari."

[C S]

The thought, "Five-hundred years", came to Desrium, both context and the one speaking taking him back to the Qa'id's court. "It would be unfair of me to ask for a private regaling. Perhaps I will hear of it at your next lecture," he said.

[The Kingpin]

"Indeed! Perhaps you will," agreed Faruq with a smile. "I should perhaps tend to that, now that I think of it. Plan a lesson for my students," he mused as he remembered he would have to hold a lecture later that afternoon. All this reading had been getting in the way as of late. Learning to read the common script of Eastern Aster was a tiresome endeavour, indeed.


Ceridwen, meanwhile, was far beyond the boundaries of Daaven. Were Beshayir to rise above the trees in the copse where she was practising, she would have been able to see the Thunderkin's silhouette against the backdrop of fog and mist engulfing the Boldrim.

She had gone in search of the Thunderbird, but feared that a direct approach would be disrespectful of her. Instead, she went about the same motions she had on her first meeting with the Elemental Overseer, starting off in that cave she had taken shelter in. It seemed so long ago now. How things could change in such a short time...

Her wings furled with a ruffle of feathers as she reached a better point of arrival; the waterfall she had stopped at prior to her ascent to the Thunderbird. She had thought she had lost it, but here she was. It still had that alluring glitter to it, the sensation of thirst brought to mind even when she wasn't necessarily in need of something to drink. She was surprised it hadn't frozen, considering the snow covering the ground around her. Her black legs cast a sharp contrast with the fluffy white layer that came up to her ankles and wrists. The large animals from before were nowhere to be found, having most likely moved to greener pastures, probably quite literally.

[C S]

A breeze blew on the dragoness' back like a gentle push forward. It was a curious thing, for it could have been a feint of chance, but also equally likely a deliberate act. To stand in this domain was to be without grounding in senses or intuition. The only way forward was one's own decisiveness.

[The Kingpin]

She heeded the gesture, continuing along the path up the mountain, ascending towards its precipice. She pondered the other changes that may have happened here. Did the Thunderbird have a coat of winter plumage? Did anything aside from it still live on this mountain? What would happen if the snow crowning the peak came loose? Would it reach Daaven? Was there a plan for such a circumstance?

[C S]

The air currents came up from behind once more, except this time they dipped and blew up on Ceridwen's wings, urging her to be lifted while she pondered the intricacies of things that were and were to be.

[The Kingpin]

The dragoness noted the way the wind moved around her. It was very much out of the ordinary for her, but she obliged what the environment told her. She knew where she had to go from here, and it seemed that either the weather itself wished to expedite her meeting, or the Thunderbird knew she was coming and did not want to wait. Hard to argue with the closest thing to a god this place has, she mused as she spread her wings, beating them a few times on the updraft as she ascended towards the peak.

[C S]

Past the waterfall and into the fog she went. When the elemental first called, the dragon's trance diminished the experience of going through a mist as thick, like a cloud banished from the truest heights of the sky, or one that had crashed onto earth. Owing to her heritage, the Hueilin was not entirely unfamiliar with such a sight. The abundance of natural energies circulating around the crag gave it the same presence as the veil over Drakhunmiir. Beckoned by the winds of the wings, Ceridwen did not have to wait long at all until she was over the ledge that bore the mark of the Letant.

[The Kingpin]

Ceridwen hovered her way over the ledge, landing gingerly on the edge of it, her wings furling as her tail lifted until it was level with the ground. A gust of wind blew the tail further upward than she had intended, her light weight meaning she was almost blown off-balance until she pulled the feather fan at the tip shut, beginning to make her way forward. It was chillier here than it had been on her last visit, and she could have sworn the fog had grown thicker. It was almost tangible in its thickness, as though it would tear if she clawed at it with her talons. The marked stone of Sylias gave her a moment of pause. She wondered where Syria was now, whether or not she was safe. Whether she had succeeded in her foolhardy venture. Whether she would ever see the human mage alive again.

She blinked. Where had that come from? She dismissed the dark thoughts to the recesses of her mind. Septimus and Syria were both very capable individuals. They had a history of dangerous endeavours and had come out successful each time. Surely this one would be no different.

With that in mind, she looked up to her surroundings, looking for the Thunderbird in the mist.

[C S]

She did not have to look long or far. The shadowy, distinctly avian mass was a spire over Ceridwen when the cold mist parted in front of her. Sunlight splintered over the feathered shoulder of the colossal raptor, splintering into rays that showered upon the small dragon. Perhaps it was a machination of fate that she would stand before the ancient with an uncertain heart. Much more than a simple holiday request.

[The Kingpin]

Ceridwen looked up at the towering avian. The sight was one that inspired awe in her even now. Much as she tried to bury her concerns, being face to face with hers and Syria's patron only served to draw even more of her unrest to the surface. She lowered her head in a respectful bow, knowing words were lost, or rather, unnecessary with the Guardian of the Boldrim. It was funny turn of events that now, when she was right before that which she sought, she had trouble seeing the point in what she had come here for in the first place. Something nice for the celebrations. Pfft. Someone was out there, risking life and limb, maybe dead, and here she was pestering a being as old as the planet about the celebrations of mortals.

[C S]

The thunderbird tilted its head over to one side. With that simple gesture, a phantom breeze rushed in from the foggy yonder. The air did not have the bite of winter or the great mountain elevation as it buffeted Ceridwen and momentarily blinded her with a wafting screen. She was lifted and then moved onto what turned out to be a literal snowbed when the gale faded and the fog receded to reveal the giant bird again.