Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[Hopeflower]

Days. Days that the weather might yet buy them if it took another turn for the worse, but time that they'd otherwise lose. Viho shoved his frustration over his own weakness to the back of his mind and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling without seeing it. There had to be something to make it all go faster, if he could just think of -

Wait.

"There's a student in my class," he said slowly, wondering at the fortune that had brought such a variety of people to him when he most needed what they offered. "Her name is Solaurn Bvadrisl. She came to me with a tablet that she made herself, designed to absorb and store mana. If I brought her down here, would that be any help to you?"

[C S]

"A self-replenishing power source?" The mages looked to one another with a collective emotion that could only be called enthralled.

"There are only a few things that by their nature, take mana and hold it, the way honey and vitorite do. Honey isn't a viable building material, as you can imagine, and takes a long time to enrich with mana. Vitorite is even more exotic than super-core, and it forms naturally, at that. Brodudika does not have access to mine any veins."

"This tablet stands to revolutionize magical applications across Aster!"

"Bvadrisl? That is a dwarven name, no?"

The chatter ensued, many minds suddenly grasping at a new horizon that had been locked away from them until just a moment ago. Desrium lacked the means to clear his throat. A steady hum produced in his throat was what he relied on to reel in their attention. "I will take this to mean that Bvadrisl will be of use to you?"

"Definitely. Most definitely. She should be on our staff, for what she knows about magic!"

Desrium nodded, then looked to Viho. That was a very clear answer.

[The Kingpin]

"I do not envy the one to clean up after them. Holes in the garden, messengers with shreded clothes, drool covered binders and so on," responded the Knight jokingly. "Well, assuming he is one of the many shapeshifters that lend themselves a bit too readily to their other half," he amended a moment later.

[C S]

"I know the type. One is a handful enough. We don't need a dog-boy chasing the cat-girl 'round these parts," Evisa replied. The thought of it seemed to grind at her patience. "And we don't need people slipping on ice too. If you'll excuse me, mister Lyall," Evisa put her helmet back on and gave a fuller bow this time. She turned and started to jog down the street in search of the watery elemental known as Oedon, whose fluid body remained so regardless of heat and cold.

[The Kingpin]

"Good luck, Evisa!" he called after the Viking, watching her depart, before turning to make his way into the city. He had a lesson he would have to try and get to. Taking a moment to plot a course to his destination, deciding on yet another patrol route to take along the way. Now if only this snow would stop falling...

[Hopeflower]

"I'll speak to her," Viho assured them, a little entertained by their excitement. Not that he didn't share it, to a degree. This stood to make things go that much smoother, if he could find the right words to convince Solaurn to help. Perhaps like Dahnae, the chance to earn some coin would sweeten the deal. "I appreciate you all taking the time to do this."

[C S]

"And I speak for all of us when I say we appreciate you coming to us with this task," said one of the mages. It was a bonafide solstice holiday gift. No more toiling away at dead ends, it was time for their work to reap some real progress. The new advancement being put to immediate use in bringing justice to those who would see the city and the good it stood to do dismantled was just an added bonus; the added morale boost needed to push through.


Daylight spread across the snowy landscape a few hours later. The digging began in full force at dawn, when those not woken by certain elementals found themselves unable to get past their houses. Those very same elementals joined them, and the streets of Brodudika were wrestled away from winter's grip, if only to allow the day to continue as normal. The persistent flurries were perhaps signs that there was more to come, however. If anyone needed to get anything done, they'd best do it while nature had her eyes set on other pastures.

[Hopeflower]

With the day's lesson well underway, Viho found himself free to let his mind wander a bit. Now that the possibility of getting the use of his arm back existed, the thought nagged at him and made the fingers of the crippled limb twitch restlessly. His sword was gone, sold into some collection or lost - he didn't know. He'd sold it himself out of desperation for coin, the need to eat winning out over the fact that the scimitar had been a treasured gift. Now, though...he needed to start looking at his options. Maybe when they took a break for lunch, after he'd eaten and introduced Solaurn to the researchers, he'd go looking at what Brodudika offered.


Roused by the light of the actual sun, as opposed to the elementals clearing the streets, Vix, Rowan, and Arsenic were taking some time to relax before any of them braved the cold to get their days started. With the innkeeper finishing up braiding her hair and the others more or less ready to leave at any moment, it gave them time to talk about the translations Vix was having trouble with.

Arsenic was inclined to believe it was going to be some obscure word that sounded worse than it was and meant something completely different when the letter was written. 'I find it hard to believe the Adsilas would have been willing to make the kind of sacrifice you're worried about,' he said thoughtfully. 'Even if it was a different time, I don't think our numbers were ever so high that we could afford to kill ourselves off for power. Especially in the royal families.'

"Well," said Rowan, offering a one-shouldered shrug, "it was a different time. Maybe the losses sounded acceptable."

Vix almost bit through her hair tie trying to control her first few responses to that. She quickly took it out of her mouth and with nimble fingers, she tied off the end of her braid. "I want to believe I'm looking at this wrong. Let's try a different angle today."

"What do you have in mind?" Rowan asked, exchanging a glance with Arsenic.

"I want you and Arsenic to keep looking for general references to the Iupan and the carvings of them while I try to translate this thing, if that's alright." Vix straightened and turned to face them. "Maybe we'll get lucky and I really am reading it all wrong."

[C S]

A white mitten pressed up against the door and pushed it open. The receptionist looked up from his preoccupation and his eyes widened with some surprise. He almost thought she would be a no-show, after all.

"Mornin'," the girl said without looking at him directly, pushing the door shut behind her and kicking out her shoes to get rid of the snow that had stubbornly clung to them.

"Good morning," said the suited man, followed by an obligatory, "you're late."

"Ya-huh," the girl noted flatly. "I had to buy some new clothes."

"The coat?" the receptionist asked. It was a lot different than the old one she wore. This one looked like it was actually made for a young woman to wear.

Dahnae shook her head and held up her mittens, then leaned forward to show the receptionist her gray knitted hat that hand a ball of wool dangling at the end of a short string.

"You're late because of mittens and a hat?"

"Mhm," Dahnae replied.

"You didn't have a hat or mittens before?"

"Didn't need them until now."

The receptionist sighed and let the tension in his back settle. And just like that, the routine was back in place. He would never admit to missing it. "Viho says you aren't to take your full deliveries until you are recovered."

"Viho is classroom decoration; I only waited for as long as I did so that I could continue where I left off."

"Classroom... decoration?"

"I'm-a go tell him I missed him now." Dahnae did not have any more words to say, going up the stairs.

The receptionist was left with one lasting thought. "Decoration?"


A white mitten pushed open the door on the seventh floor, opening it slowly. She had a feeling from the silence on the other side that her classmates were concentrating, and she didn't want to disturb them.



Outside of the boarding house, a now-smaller snowy titan lumbered. There were mounds piling up high outside of Brodudika's walls, haphazardly scattered about and almost as tall at the fortifications themselves. Tydrio's hard work spoke for itself, outside of everyone's view. Her current small size was after she ejected another iceberg over the edge.

Before she could get to work rising even taller with the snow around the retreat, she was beset by small children and their scrappy pups, which yapped away at her. The children, bundled up for the weather, laughed and held their hands up, for they had seen the strange construct of ice move and pull the frost to her whims.

They were a curious bunch to behold, so she entertained them. She place a hand down in the center of their little group and shed some of the snow that collected on her arm. She then placed her hands around the crude pillar, and a cool glow washed over them all. When Tydrio moved her hands away, she left a sculpture of ice, of marvelous shape, simultaneously shapeless. The abstract figure captivated the children, like a magic trick that involved hiding a coin behind someone's ear.

This was more substantial than any coin trick, however.

She then dropped some snow from her figure and to the amazement of the youth, it morphed in freefall before splattering over the ground in a distinct way that wasn't much like snow at all. It was almost like... dough. Frosty dough, which rolled upon itself, swirled and rose into mimicries of pies and breads. One of the dogs went as far as to seize the opportunity to eat one, having usually been denied at the dinner table. It whined at the cold that rushed into its head, and it shook its pelt about in disdain.

[The Kingpin]

The howl of the wind was a soothing sound to the Son of Storms, the gentle pushing and tugging of the air currents against his wing membranes a comforting sensation in itself. It reminded him of how carefree life up here could be. This far from the ground, there was very little to threaten his peace, or challenge his supremacy. Dragons were a relatively rare sight these days. He did not often cross paths with them. Granted, some of that was due to the fact he had grown somewhat, and as such, was a larger, more imposing, more threatening presence now than he was when he set out from Drakhunmiir several years ago. At this size, most of the more common dragon species would have considered him a predator to be avoided. The few that did not fear him did not fly where he flew, and so went unseen by him regardless.

Even those who saw him as a predator however would have breathed a sigh of relief were they to see him now. With a large lump of meat in his talons, the dragon flew virtually undisturbed, large, thick fangs biting into an uncooked ridgehorn flank, tearing away flesh and bone alike, broken ribs dropping in his wake to the ground below. His hunger being sated meant that he would not be looking to hunt down anything else at the moment.

He had, when his flight began, thought about eating the previous night's meal. Considerations of the use of some cooked, and therefore longer lived food for Syria and Beshayir made him reconsider however.

For those who knew him as the wise and friendly Scholar, the sight of him tearing apart such a large lump of flesh would have been quite a bit less relieving, were he close enough to the ground to be seen by them; a reminder that the Son of Storms was still very much a large and powerful carnivorous beast, and one that preyed on things much bigger than they were, at that. As it was however, the most that anyone would see of this without a spyglass or telescope would be massive ribs embedded in the earth in a roughly straight line due-North.



Far from the skies travelled by the Hueilin Emissary, a young and quite energetic elf rose from her bed to start her day. Today was the day Septimus and Syria were to return; a detail she learned from the couple themselves late the previous night. It was the day Ceridwen was to return with whatever surprise it was she sought to try and accomplish, as she had learned before the dragoness departed in the first place. And in addition to all that, it was the day Daaven would celebrate the winter solstice. Goot-something or other. She had heard it a couple of times or so, but she hadn't quite pinpointed it. What she did know, however, was that it was the reason every house, every street, every room was decorated in hues of red and green and white. And that meant that it would be an experience to remember. It was with that mindset that she departed her bedroom, clad in little more than her nightgown and a pair of thick socks, to the kitchen, where Willow was likely already busying herself with the first preparations of the day.

[C S]

The old woman heard the drumming down the steps and paused her humming of a holiday hymn. "Right on time," she mused, taken back to the years when Syria's own excited charging prefaced the day of good cheer. Syria looked forward to frosted pastries filled with spice, and while Willow was definitely making those treats, what she had already prepared ahead of time was a pot of hot chocolate. By time Beshayir entered the kitchen crowded with bowls, jars and ingredients of all kinds, she was hit with the rich smell, which had to compete with batter and bread.

[The Kingpin]

"There is something that smells nice in here," said Beshayir as she walked through the kitchen door, stopping dead in the doorway as her eyes stared widely at the massive array of pots, pans and trays, the veritable bakery's worth of pastries covering every visible surface of the room. The sweet smells of cinnamon, chocolate, vanilla and countless other things were almost overwhelming, yet dizzyingly pleasant at the same time. "How long have you been working, Grandma Willow?" she asked, her tone voicing her shock quite handily.

[C S]

"Oh, good morning, Beshi-dear!" Willow greeted Beshayir with feigned surprise, all while pouring out a cup of steaming drink for her. Answering her question, she responded with one of her own. "That depends, really. Is the sun up?" Willow glanced to the window. The blinds were tucked up and away, and the edges were fringed with white. The sky was bright, but the shade of the Boldrim was still well over Daaven.

[The Kingpin]

The young elf nodded. "I've been up... all night. I came down as soon as the sky was bright," she explained with a yawn as she walked over, perching herself atop one of the stools in the cosy, sweet-smelling kitchen. "Septimus and Syria are coming back today," she added with a smile.

[C S]

"Guthander blessings abound!" Willow said joyfully and set down the cup in front of Beshayir. "Your first gift of the day, though I'm worried that it doesn't quite match the one you've given this old lady," Willow chuckled as she glided about the kitchen. She picked up a glass and sifted some of its powdery contents into a bowl, and then picked up the bowl and a pestle to work the mixture as she paced about. Apparently it was a routine Willow had gotten very used to and proficient in over her many years.

[The Kingpin]

"Thank you," said the young Pyromancer as she held the cup to her lips, taking a sip of it slowly. The warmth of it seemed to wash through her very soul, joy in liquid form lingering on her tongue even after she gulped it down.

"But what do you mean? I didn't...give you anything?" she asked a moment later, her eyes dropping to the mug as she realised disappointedly that this holiday of joy and gifts was one where she had none to give.

[C S]

"I know something now that I didn't know when I woke up today, honey!" Willow retorted with an energetic flair that actively shunned Beshayir's downtrodden demeanor. "I know that they're alive, and on their way back. It's the gift of relief as much as joy, and one of the best I've ever received!"

[The Kingpin]

"Oh," she responded, blinking. She didn't quite understand the reasoning initially, as she would have learned about it eventually anyway. But she supposed, if it made her happy, that was good. Good enough for the young Pyromancer to manage a smile.

[C S]

Morrelie trekked up the shadowed side of a snowy hill. Its surface was lumpy, giving it a wrinkled appearance perpetuated by the highlights of the sun on the opposite side. The quality of the landscape, and its dotting of twiggy plants, did not factor into the Interceptor's choice. What mattered most was that image she had spotted from afar. The early morning sun eclipsed by Leyuna's land was what she had seen, following her own road some time ago. By time she reached the top, the sun was there to meet her, bright and gold. The clouds were thin as they passed in front of the blazing orb, and the thicker clouds sprawling over the sky were illuminated in a way as to appear downright heavenly. Rays of sunlight reached past her.

Morrelie held her countenance as that of a stoic, squinting into the bright yonder. She stood stiffly upright as a soldier would at a ceremony of respect, hands behind her back and her wand secured to her belt. For as grave and stoic her physical presence was, her aura was defiantly not. Her tightly bound purple and white battle-wear began to loosen, the covers over her face coming apart. Her hood became a sequence of ribbons that weaved into her tarry hair, becoming a gradient of color starting from yellow and ending in blue. White spots dotted the ribbons, and all together they gave the impression of one of the striking and most decorated shellfish that wandered Aster's tropical seabed.

A dress made itself out of the rest of Morrelie's uniform. Long sleeves were tight around her wrists, the fabric supple and sharing the color scheme. Patterns of shells and lines of kelp materialized and were almost animate over the old mage's punished body. A sash hung off of one side of her and blew in the cold wind along with the skirt that went past her knees.

"Dokido Singajingle, uvurbaggy," Morrelie said, as was customary in Zuppoland on this day. She did not speak for the city of the shell of the present, but the island nation as a whole that met its watery grave. Each year, for centuries, the Interceptor paid her respects to everyone who was lost on that terrible night, including herself and the remaining members of the Order. She despised what spineless cowards they had become, but that did not weigh in on her belief: that the night Zuppoland sank was the night any of them were last truly alive.

This hallowed day that symbolized the passing of seasons, to Morrelie, was a day when the boundary between life and death was blurred, and one where she could almost see the past in the sun. Just over the next rise of land, she could almost see the pinnacle of the palace, and the expanse of homes and buildings that extended to the farthest reaches of the kingdom, and the countryside that surrounded such beautiful grounds, then finally the cliffs that stood high over the breaking waves.

Clad in holiday attire, Morrelie directed her focus silently. The shrubs around her quivered, then were ripped out of the frozen soil all at once. They floated before her and were joined together in a pile, branches coiling together by Morrelie's direction. The twigs built up higher and higher until their combined contours took on the likeness of a conch.

Morrelie took a knee, rested her elbows on it and clasped her hands together. She rested her forehead against them, and gradually, starting with a few isolated tears, allowed herself to weep.

[Hopeflower]

Distracted from his contemplation, Viho looked up from the fingers he hadn't even realized he'd been studying so intently. His voice brought a couple of students blinking out of their concentration. "Dahnae. Welcome back." He moved to stand and greet the shapeshifter properly, adding, "How are you feeling?"


"That's cuter than it has any right to be," was Rowan's assessment of the giant snowy being's interaction with the children. The trio had stopped to watch despite the biting cold, and Vix looked as though her heart might have melted. "Nick. Draw that later."

'I'm not sure I could do it justice,' Arsenic replied after a moment's thought, but he smiled. 'Something to keep in mind once we're done with all of this.'

Vix managed to tear her gaze away from the scene and replied quietly, "Yes." It hadn't been her intention to keep them all away from the solstice celebrations, but the awareness of what day it must be hit Vix with a burst of clarity. "We'll turn into ice statues ourselves if we stand around for too long. Come on," she added far more brightly than another day of researching her family tree warranted.

She had some thank you gifts to plan.