Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

The light in the Revenant's eyes went out almost immediately, its duplicates vanishing as its form crumpled to dust, joining the cloud surrounding the Millennial Mage. It had been a mere projection of a demon, rather than the thing itself.

"Young mage. Ancient mage. You stand outside of the lifetime of your kin, defiant of your limits. You are one with respectable power, but tell me; do you remember the cause for which you were recruited? Do you remember your duty?" The voice was deep, seeming to shake the very air with its strength. The source was not immediately clear, the entity using the latent magic churned up by the Mage and Revenant both as a power source. The ash cloud churned slowly around her, shapes materialising and coming together as a draconic figure materialised before her. Tall as a building, with eyes like suns, the figure was unmistakeable. The Stormweaver, born of ash, loomed over her, his head alone big enough to swallow her whole.

[C S]

After several moments of silence to parse what she was seeing, Morrelie laughed.

She put her hands on her knees and guffawed.

One so gripped by misery and death, laughing as Morrelie was, it was disturbing.

"I have been had," said the mage with a biting edge to her voice. Any semblance of amusement boiled away and venom dripped from her words. "Stormweaver... Arashi. What is the meaning of this?"

[The Kingpin]

A rumble in the avatar's throat crackled like thunder, if more muted. "I should think that much is obvious, young mage. But we will get to that. You have yet to answer the question, Mage of Zuppoland. Morrelie. Do you remember the cause for which your Order once stood? For which it was created?" echoed the Experimentalist.

[C S]

"A day in which we will not answer each other's questions," Morrelie responded. "Enough of these illusions, dragon. Show yourself as you are, and maybe I will consider engaging with you on a level that doesn't involve a threat to your life." At least, a spoken threat to his life.

[The Kingpin]

A disappointed sigh escaped the Stormweaver at that, manifesting in a waft of ash that burned white, casting light on their surroundings. "Justice is not the only ideal you have forgotten, it seems. Very well." The ash, too light to fall swiftly, instead seemed to swirl outwards, churning violently as the sound of thumping wings filled the air, the air growing steadily clearer as the darkness slowly gave way to light. The sun was not visible when the cloud finally did fade, however. The sky had indeed darkened in the time the Revenant's dust cloud gripped the village. The Stormweaver hovered above, his backdrop one of forming storm clouds; a silent answer to the Millenial Mage's threat. His hide glistened with tendrils of light, his runes burning bright. He was a greater being than the one that had founded the Order all those centuries ago. "So far from your path are you, that you no longer remember it. It pains me to see you so. It means I have failed in my mission."

[C S]

Morrelie barked a bitter laugh. "Oh, you have failed by my judgement, but I remember my past well. I have no choice but to -- the memories. There is nothing to Zuppoland now, but memories. I will not be brought an audience before you to speak of the dead and gone."

Her fingers caressed the spiraled bone wand and she stiffened her back.

"Do you mean to kill me, Arashi?"

[The Kingpin]

"I mean to show you what awaits this continent, what awaits this world, should the dangers gripping it be neglected as they have. Look around you," responded the Stormweaver, a taloned hand gesturing at the destruction surrounding the Millennial Mage. Ruined husks of buildings charred black, crumbling even from the wind kicked up with the dragon's wings. The lump of gore that was once a number of imps lay where it was. Despite their hellish origins, they were not that different from human remains, if perhaps larger, sicker, and more repulsive than any human mass grave could ever be.

"You gaze upon destruction and desolation. Upon a village not unlike those that once stood an ocean away, before they were immolated; burned to ash and cinders, their inhabitants captured, tortured, fuel for the infernal legions. This is the fate that awaits Aster. The fate you and your companions were tasked with keeping at bay." In the backdrop of ash, an image materialised, one shown to him by Buruq, of the early days of his time in Tyrbenetus, when a few ruins still remained of villages ravaged by the demonic hordes.

[C S]

"You should be trying to kill me. I have no time to waste with a dragon who would stage a demonic infestation to prove a point. These cinders are your doing. These demons are your pets. Really, how would I not be justified in taking your head?" Morrelie retorted hotly.

[The Kingpin]

"By the fact you yourself sought the same mere moments before you learned that the demons were not as free to act as they seemed," retorted the Stormweaver with a calm that contrasted sharply with the boiling fury of the one he spoke to. He had been passive, but not inattentive of the Millennial Mage's intentions throughout her battle.

"They have not been free for some months now. What you saw was the last demonic action they will ever experience, and they were allowed that only to show you what it is you neglect. I had intended to show you more, show you the more vicious and destructive of demonkind; ones I have captured and imprisoned because you and your companions abandoned their duty for something worth nothing," he continued, his head craned up, his crown of horns granting a regal look to the Stormweaver.

"Anger, hate, that has been allowed to go unchecked. Hate that arose suddenly and fiercely, that blinded you all, that destroyed reason and enslaved knowledge. Hate that obliterated everything you ever loved or cared for. And in so doing, you have allowed yourself to become the very thing you were tasked with fighting. It is as if the poison of the Warbringer arose within you even after it had been bound and locked away. Were I not better informed, I would believe it so."

[C S]

"Right," Morrelie said in a way that confirmed what Arashi already knew: that nothing he said of her duty would sink in. Compounding that was her request. "Tell me, Arashi, if you are so concerned with preventing ruination, why haven't you eliminated Desunka?" She then made a sharp noise as if stifling an outburst of fury, putting a finger over her lips. "Better question. Why don't you go do that now? I would be willing to help you do as much, if you feel the need to cower and play with your toys as always."

[The Kingpin]

A momentary twitch in the Stormweaver's features hinted at a lapse in his self control, frustration coming to the surface for an instant as he was reminded of the stubbornness of the Clan Lords. She was the same kind of creature as they, and he surmised, likely for the same reasons. Swiftly as it appeared, it vanished, his expression becoming tranquil once more. "There are many reasons I have not destroyed him. For one, to call him a threat on par with the others facing Aster is to embrace ignorance the likes of which this world has never seen. There is an order, a cult, the Brotherhood of Necros. They have been roaming Aster, creating breeding grounds for demonic activity. Demonic curses, summoning rituals and blood sacrifices. Preparing Aster for the arrival of the Instigator. That Archdemon's history was recorded in the archives of Tyrbenetus's Justicar Keep. His power is terrible, enough to dwarf the last Archdemon I sealed away for Aster's benefit. If they were to succeed, and he were to reach here when Aster is still so weak, then the Eternal War will begin anew, this time in a place ill prepared to defend against it. From here, it will spread. To Tyrbenetus. To Syravoras. To every continent in Leyuna, until it is all consumed."

His clawed paws curled into fists as his voice gained a harsh edge. "Desunka was the one chosen by Moria as her champion. Desunka defeated the demonic horde in Tyrbenetus, almost being destroyed in his attempt to do so. Desunka established an alliance of powerful figures in Aster united with the intent to defend against Necros and his ilk," he rumbled, images materialising as he spoke, an image of Desrium with the Lance of the Justicar and his signature wings floating to the dragon's left, the battlefield after the Battle of Tyrbenetus had ended on his right. "He has been a more adamant defender against the Infernal Legion than any in Aster or possibly beyond have ever been. And you would seek to destroy that which has saved a continent, and bought all of Leyuna a few more years to prepare. That, Morrelie, is why I have not destroyed him. To do so is to succumb to a madness that will drive us all right into Necros's hands. It would be taking not only our own lives, but those of every living being, mortal or immortal, flesh or elemental in Leyuna, with us. I cannot allow that to happen. Not when Moria and the other Seven gave their lives to prolong our survival."

[C S]

"Hmm," Morrelie hummed simply. She stroked her chin, fabric-covered fingers running over the fabric mask. She was dull in absorbing the deeds of that which she hated so much. Gold wings, blue robe, it mattered not. All she saw was his red eyes, and as long as they shined, they would be enemies, fighting their own eternal war not so far removed from the demonic.

But she could not simply wave away mention of the Brotherhood. Desunka being benign for the time being meant that she could afford to delay retribution without consequence. The Brotherhood would not -- is not -- going to rest until their overlord stole their very souls for himself. Time spent furthering her campaign against the armored being would be time the cult's operatives had to work without obstacle.

"I see. I will dismantle this Brotherhood and leave Aster protected against this invasion. And when I am finished, mark my words, Arashi, Desunka will die."

[The Kingpin]

"Surely you are not so naive as to think that defeating the Brotherhood will permanently end the demonic threat?" questioned the Stormweaver, eyes narrowed. "So long as this world exists, they will seek to defile it, to destroy it. And those who bear hatred, malice, anger...they are those that fall first to the demonic tide. It was the vengeful of Tyrbenetus's warriors that fell in battle. Heed my advice, Mage of Zuppoland; the path you walk is a treacherous one. Follow it, and you stand to lose what little you have allowed yourself to possess."

[C S]

"After the Brotherhood is no more, after Desunka is no more, Aster will have myself as a righteous protector, and I will remain as a god to send any devil back to the nether," Morrelie replied. "I need no thanks for my selflessness."

[The Kingpin]

Arashi, in that moment, wished he could have said the Mage's words surprised him. They did not. Her statement merely proved what he already suspected. "You may do as you wish, young mage. But heed my warning well. When the poisoned drink of that which poisoned them, only death awaits." With that, as if it had been merely a dream, the demonic aura that lingered around the village disappeared, the pile of burning flesh disintegrating into dust that floated away on the wind, wiped from the place with the ash, only pristine snow lingering in the dragon's wake. No sooner had it cleared than the Stormweaver departed, a wide arc spiralling upwards as he departed the little village, the Millennial Mage left to her thoughts. From here, it was time he paid a visit to Brodudika...

[Hopeflower]

The walk to the school was not a long one, but it was cold and decidedly quiet with so many people sleeping in or battling hangovers. Arsenic appreciated that - it gave him some time to think. By the time he reached the seventh floor, he was reasonably sure of how he wanted the conversation to go. However, being forced to confront the fact that he didn't know his father left him with the uncomfortable understanding that he had no idea how to talk to Viho amicably.

So when the psychomancy instructor looked up and seemed surprised to see Arsenic standing in the doorway, Arsenic quickly decided that no, this probably wasn't going to go at all the way he'd imagined it would.

Awkwardly, unable to look at Viho, the mute offered, 'We never finished our talk.'

"So we didn't," Viho agreed after a short but pregnant pause. He set aside the lesson plan he was going over and laced his fingers, resting his hands on the desk. "There is...little left to say about my absence from your life, however. I could make my excuses, but I expect you don't want to hear them."

'I don't,' Arsenic confirmed, more sharply than he intended. He winced, coughed to clear his throat, and raked his fingers through his hair. 'I mean - '

"I know."

'I didn't...come to fight.'

Viho merely tilted his head, waiting for Arsenic to collect his thoughts. The silence stretched, painful and awkward, until Arsenic spoke again.

'You said mom would have been proud of me.'

"I did," Viho agreed quietly, "and I stand by it."

Arsenic took a few steps farther into the room, folding his arms over his chest and setting his jaw. 'I've killed more people than I care to count. I spent seventeen years waiting for the day when I could put an arrow through your chest. That's not what she would have wanted for me.'

Viho leaned forward to rest his weight on his elbows. "Arsenic," he began, and something in his tone made his son finally look at him, "your mother was a wonderful woman. One of the things that made her who she was was her ability to look at people and understand their flaws. She could do that because she accepted that she was flawed, herself, and strove to do better." Seeing that Arsenic didn't quite understand yet, Viho pressed gently, "Are you not trying to better yourself, too?"

Arsenic didn't answer, but there was a tensing of his shoulders that told Viho he wasn't far off the mark. It wasn't much of a stretch. He was, after all, still breathing.

"Then she would be proud of you," the older psychomancer stated simply.

'I don't see how,' Arsenic muttered. 'I wouldn't have ever considered...' he trailed off, jaw tightening further as though he thought he'd said too much.

Viho waited, but his son didn't continue. "We can't know what might have been," he reminded them both. "Only what is. We have both made our mistakes. We can let them drag us down and kill us, or we can learn from them."

When the hell did you learn how to be a father? Arsenic wondered, but didn't ask. He'd heard enough fatherly talks, seen enough memories of them, to know that this felt awfully close to one. The first one he could remember getting from Viho. This was...unexpected. And not enough to undo half a lifetime's worth of damage. He hadn't really expected that it would be.

Maybe, though, it could be a start. One of those many, many things that had no guarantee of working out, but a start nonetheless.

Arsenic left Viho to get back to work shortly after that, not sure if this was a good thing he was doing or not.

[C S]

Morrelie watched Arashi go with a glare almost as permanent as the Stalwart's own.

"I take the poison and have developed an immunity to it; I have adapted it. Their poison is now my venom and it shall do unto them tenfold the discord that they wished to impart on our world," growled the mage. Her aura, likewise, became erratic and disruptive. A solid wall of energy flickered in and out of being around her, and she caught herself in the moment.

She pulled in a steadying breath.

Conserve and collect.

This was how the Brotherhood would meet its end.

"In time, I will kill you as well for this deception."

And so, Morrelie started to sing her song again.





Several miles away from Amplefield...

Urlox scarfed down more of his improvised blood pudding. He had made enough of the dish to go around the campfire nestled on the side of the mountain, but only he enjoyed it enough to keep eating it. Baaz had her fill relatively early in yesterday's minor festivities. Valeria's ideal portion was even less than that. Chandra and Matthias opted out completely.

Not that the guard captain had a problem with that. Even with a broken sword, he seemed content, sitting next to the warmth and eating out of his small pot. His spoon jangled about inside from time to time as Urlox fought to get every last spoonful out.

The rangers gathered the last of their things, knowing that it would be soon time to leave. Matthias had his plans for dealing with the Royal Arms, and he was working on that at the moment, though the details were still a mystery to them. All they knew was that they had to give the elves some time to lower their guard after their operations in Niyera. The chase through the streets alone would mean security tightening like a noose.

That meant the best thing they all could do now was leave, regroup and head back to Daaven, then return when the time was right to tie up any loose ends. Make the noose work for them.

[The Kingpin]

The surface he used to write his letter was a crude one at best. The shield of one of Elias's followers, steel with a layer of leather over it, provided a sturdy writing surface. His inkwell was lodged in a small mound of snow, and his quill carefully wove the letters together. It had taken some time, but finally, with the byline to an alias, the letter was done. He rose to his feet, giving an experimental blow on the page to make sure the ink had dried, and then folded the letter and put it away in a pocket.

"I believe there should be a dwarven stronghold not too far East of us. We should head there. Resupply, and then make way for Daaven," he stated. His voice was rough. Dry. He had had a difficult few days. He had not shown any remorse to Elias in those final moments, but the weight of ending his own brother was a heavy one to bear. It had to be done, no doubt. But that did not change the fact it was a painful task that he had been forced to see to completion. That night he had spent mourning, not the Elias he killed, but the Elias he had grown up with. The ever-loyal brother, the one who stood up for him, who he in turn stood up for, in their times of need. The one he had shared meals and stories with, the one whose songs of merriment had been joined by many in their household every Solstice since he was old enough to know how. It was a kind and merry spirit that had been consumed by the Betrayer. But it didn't change the fact that that same spirit, ruined though it may have been, was ended by Matthias's own hands.

[C S]

The three women looked to Matthias at the mention of the dwarves, their expressions expectant, even timid Valeria. It wasn't something they considered so normal as to mention it offhandedly, visiting a stronghold. Dwarves were not exactly frequent out in the world, but what they shared with the other peoples they came across tended to feed the impression that their fortresses were exactly that: fortresses. Impassible feats of building that kept dwarven customs in and everyone else out, in addition to elevated ramparts from which the pygmies sneered at the other races of Aster.

Urlox stopped his metallic banging when he took notice of their hesitation. "Don't be so intimidated."

"No one's intimidated," Baaz all but jumped to say. "I can't speak for the others--"

"We can speak for ourselves, thank you," Chandra stated flatly.

"-- but I did not think we'd be stopping at the dwarves' doorstep...fortress-gate-step... during this mission."

Urlox shrugged. "They may not be the most welcoming to outsiders, but they are just people, if shorter than most. They still need the trade to make their coin, and trade comes from visitors stopping by and foreigners setting up shop to make the most out of their under-tunnels."

Baaz looked off the side of the mountain. "I suppose."

Valeria hugged her knees, saying, "I wouldn't mind staying at their lodgings for a while." There was a tenor in her voice, more noticeable than when she started out on the mission. Every night so far, she'd had dreams of burning, going as far as to smell flesh boiling... the grief of taking lives was something more. Something even greater than guilt, something more pungent than the knowledge of sin.

[The Kingpin]

"I'm sure Thimeas here could get away with saying he's half-dwarf. Father was unimpressed with his options, so he wed a giant," said Matthias, a bit of a shoddy attempt at humour to lighten up the mood.