Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

"I never thought I would have to compete with a book for your affections," deadpanned the Knight as he walked up beside her. "To be fair, I could take you on an adventure of treasure hunting and monster slaying, if you really wanted it," he quipped, cocking his head. After all, Aster had no shortage of ruins or monsters...

[Hopeflower]

Vix snickered and linked arms with Andruil. "I think I've had my fill of monsters," she stated. "Falling into bed with a few of the wrong people and a dragon rampaging through my home were enough excitement for a lifetime."

[C S]

Over the course of the passing days, Rutgers' wandering brought him to a new location. Unbeknownst to him, the little hamlet he came across had witnessed another go by, a being that would have put the ground he'd covered since leaving the village to shame. The one who was now rooting out witches and warlocks and the demons they called kin.

Had he known this, he probably would have understood the warning shots of arrows that sank their slick, sharp edges into the ground in front of his boots. He did not, as things were in actuality. The man wearing the black pelt looked unfazed as his eyes slowly descended to rest on the vibrant feathers on the back of the projectiles. Hawkorski feathers, green on the exterior edges, red near the shaft. A certain armored being had described the creatures as "bird-horses" when he came across them before later learning of what they were formally known as in Daaven. Rutgers, when he was done silently questioning why he was shot at, noted he was somewhere within the great range that they frequented. It was a large swath of land, but the Boldrim was in this range, and that meant the former ranger had a strong lead as to finding his way back to the nameless settlement without needing a map. All he had to do was get back into the heartlands, and then he could work out the rest on his own.

"The most backhanded good fortune I have ever received," the axeman thought without amusement, bending down to take one of the arrows in his free hand and inspect it. A simple head fixture with four cutting edges. Two pieces of triangular steel interlocked together and were tied to the shaft, a nice little show of craftsmanship. Rutgers was almost tempted to give his regards to the local weaponsmith. Assuming he wasn't actually stuck with one of these things. He would have been a lot less civil if that were the case.

"What's the matter, outsider? Not familiar with bows and arrows?" called out a voice, the owner, a woman, hidden very well in the surrounding foliage. The area was very arboreal, the trees growing wide in the canopy, willowy leaves that gave winter no heed dangling every which way.

Rutgers scanned for the most obvious sentry spots, given where the other arrow's shaft was angled towards. His quick eye picked out the shape that tried to disappear into the treetops, a coat fringed with leaves. What looked like leaves, at least. The pattern was woven into the dark uniform, and cloth mimics hung off of the shoulders and sleeves to further confuse the uninitiated.

"I think you will find me quite acquainted with them, should you be so unlucky as to see a personal demonstration of my abilities," Rutgers stated, pointing the four-edged arrowhead straight at the guard in the tree not more than ten yards away. The gesture did as he intended: the sentry jolted in surprise. "I was just commending the build of these things. They go through frozen soil so easily. I can only imagine what they do to leave a target feeling that same cold."

"State your business coming to Kullenda, outsider, if you want to be able to keep on imagining it and not experience it firsthand."

"Touche," Rutgers replied upon seeing the distinctive movement of an arrow being nocked and readied to fire. He lowered his hand and then looked down to the one still in the dirt. "Ah, but would I be wrong in thinking you would want them back--" His eyes flickered back to the sentry. It was a small motion, but her raising her bow to fire was something he was very much aware of.

"I am an aimless vagabond that just so happens to have an aim, as abstract and foolhardy as it may be to others," he answered the sentry. He was reminded of the guards that he would have to deal with, and considered at the back of his thoughts that he should take his time going back, now that he wasn't completely clueless as to where he was.

"A vagabond with axes strapped to his legs?"

"And axes strapped to his back, yes. The furs also obscures the ranger's coat I'm wearing as well, it really is a long story and I would rather do without it in all honesty. For transparency's sake, I also have a hatchet, a bunch of arrows and a bow to fire them on my person as well."

The sentry pulled her arrow free of her bow and rubbed the side of her head with the feathered end. Rutgers had to admit he would be bewildered by that, if he were any other person. Paying it little mind, he continued, "Oh, and I'm not coming to Kullenda. I intend to pass through and leave you to your peace."

"Alright," said the woman in the tree, "You must be pretty dedicated to your craft, if your craft was to stir mischief and mayhem in villages you come across..."

"It's not much of a dedication as much as an unfortunate hobby, but go on," Rutgers quipped while his expression remained fixed and stern.

"... I'll let you pass on to the gates. Pardon the strictness. Someone... else got too close to us. Didn't heed the guards none, split a tree's bark with some kind of magic and spoke in our heads about how she'd kill us all slowly one by one if we didn't stay out her way. Our priest told us to cut the tree down and burn it to make sure she took her evil with her when she went."

Rutgers arched a brow. "When was this?"

"Months ago."

"And you're still jumpy about it," the axeman observed, while also realizing that he was far too late to do anything about this one mad mage.

"We don't want her coming back."

Fair enough. "Did she leave a name? I figure these types are the kinds that want some kind of infamy."

"Uh..." The sentry scratched her head with the arrow again. "I don't know. She said something about wanting more pie, which I didn't get at all. I didn't think anyone had pie to give, much less more pie to give."

Rutgers stared up into the tree blankly. "Right. I'll just be going, then. I'll leave your arrows here--"

"Wait a bit," the sentry interjected. "You're a pretty inquisitive lot. Thought about lending a hand just now, didn't you?"

"I might have," Rutgers said in a very noncommittal way.

"Not so aimless on the off chance that you might have."

Rutgers shook his head and dropped the arrow. As he moved on along the dirt trail that led to the hamlet's compound, he thought bitterly, "Old habits die hard."

[The Kingpin]

A look of understanding crossed the Knight's features. "Something you would like to talk about when you have time?" he asked, pressing a hand to her own. He knew, of course, thanks to a certain Mute Assassin, but that did not change the fact that he hoped Vix would eventually be comfortable enough to speak to him on such matters.

[Hopeflower]

For a second, Vix was confused - then it clicked that he was asking about the first half of her flippant statement. Surprise flickered across her expression. "Oh - I suppose. I, uh, didn't think you'd want to hear those stories." She wound a loose strand of hair around her finger self-consciously, let it go again. There was no real harm in sharing, was there? Much as that corner of her mind was now screaming at her that opening up was dangerous - she'd get hurt again...

Would she, though?

[The Kingpin]

"Anything you want to say, I would like to hear. But if you'd rather not, then you need not say another word on the matter," stated the Andruil reassuringly, squeezing the Innkeeper's hand as they walked. "I just want you to know I'm more than a handy honey wine supplier," he added with a lopsided grin.

[Hopeflower]

Vix chewed the inside of her cheek. There it was, that little bubbling of nerves in her stomach. At what point did she finally let herself relax and believe that sometimes a good thing was just a good thing?

Well. This wasn't the turn she'd thought the conversation would take, but maybe she could make this that little bit easier.

"Later," she promised quietly, giving his hand a return squeeze. Then, for the sake of keeping things lighthearted she smiled back and teased, "If you're not picking Nick's brain, that is."

[The Kingpin]

"As you wish. We still have to get that meal, after all," responded the Knight. Jokingly, he added, "Arsenic's safe from my curiosity for now."

[Hopeflower]

"I'm sure he's relieved," Vix said with a chuckle.

Daylight dwindled quickly, and early evening saw things winding down in Brodudika. The first teeth of the approaching winter night led people to prefer being bundled up inside to being out and about. A few stragglers here and there walked briskly with their heads down, trying to limit their exposure to the worst of the wind. Viho was one of them, though rather than heading toward the boarding house he called home, he was seeking out Evisa's company. A promise was a promise - and in the meantime, he could keep an eye out for Natalie's friends.


Far from where snow and ice laid claim to the terrain, another hunt was well underway. With the interruption that morning, it was more important that the hunting party was successful today. The Oniare were built to go without food for quite a while, but it was always preferable to keep themselves in top shape.

Fortunately, the hunters were in luck. They'd discovered a litter of desert hare kits and their mother, and each Oniare carried one. The scarred female carried the largest hare, which was still kicking feebly. Their venom was slower-acting than their forest-loving kin - total paralysis wouldn't set in for a few more minutes yet. Her prey's struggling didn't even put a hitch in the Oniare's stride. She led her subordinates confidently, the five predators padding steadily over the terrain and kicking up small puffs of dust in their trek back toward home.

[The Kingpin]

The droning buzz of rippling wing membranes drifted past overhead, a silhouette barely discernible in the night sky becoming more visible as it turned around and banked. The dorsal side of the dragon's wings were brighter and more striking than the mimicry of starlight on the ventral side would have suggested, and showed to illustrate the scale of the dragon that approached them. Following the larger drake was a smaller one, feathered wings taking place of vast membranous limbs, the rapid thumping sound they made ironically being more revealing than the larger one had been.

It was only another couple of minutes before the Son of Storms finally landed, his wings tilted so the thumb talons pressed against the cool sands. The dragon looked like some massive reptilian insect in this posture, like some gargantuan grasshopper with its leaping legs serving as the middle set rather than the rear. The similarity was telling as to the reason for that posture in particular.

Glowing eyes shone like arcane lamps in the darkness, their blue glow casting the rest of his snout in light. Still a fair distance from the Oniare, he was nonetheless an imposing sight as he lifted his head up to its full height. Beside him, the dragoness landed at a trot, swiftly slowing to a stop as the Scholar advanced. It seemed his wings served another purpose in the position they were in, the extra support they provided helping him move more freely in the soft desert sands that would otherwise make walking very difficult for something his size.

Without so much as a word, the Son of Storms gave a nod to the Matriarch.

[Hopeflower]

The scarred reptilian trotted a few steps closer and puffed air through her nostrils once. Without dropping her prey, she flicked her tail and cocked her head at her subordinates. One by one, they moved past her and picked their way along a nearby ridge - a broken backbone of stone poking from the sand and dotted with spindly shrubs and cacti bristling with sharp spines. The hunters disappeared beyond it.

The matriarch waited until they were safely away before she dropped the hare. It twitched sporadically at her feet, and she didn't seem to give much thought to the notion that it might escape.

"Elfskin," she greeted the dragon, as before. "I have given your words thought. Am I wrong to presume you would rather see how our kind behave than be told?"

[The Kingpin]

"You would not, no," responded the Scholar evenly. He was happy that Syria had opted to stay in Thimeyra during this meeting. Knowing what he knew of the tales of the Oniare and the mannerisms he had seen so far, it was for the best. "What do you have in mind, Skinwalker?"

[Hopeflower]

The Oniare turned to look in the direction her companions had gone, then back to the dragon. Her tongue came out to taste the air. The scent of his pet human was fresh, but not fresh enough to suggest she was present. All the better. The matriarch wasn't about to listen to more of the hatchling's well-meant but sorely misguided yapping. "A trade. A look inside our den in return for silence on the location."

[The Kingpin]

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Septimus?" asked the dragoness beside him, feeling uncomfortable about the thought of letting him go off to a literal snake's den.

"Buruq said something to me once, some time ago. Even the wise must make unwise decisions on occasion. It is how wisdom is earned," he responded with a smile. "In truth, I have given them no reason to wish me ill. And we both know our kind are inedible to most others, so even that would be a poor justification," he added. Nipping one of her crest feathers playfully, he concluded, "Relax. You worry too much."

The gesture caused the dragoness to twitter, shaking her head to fix the ruffled feathers, hiding the flustered expression she was wearing.

Turning his gaze to the Matriarch, his expression evened out to something more serious, befitting the situation. "I would say your offer is fair. I take it this visit will require a less...obstructive form?" asked Septimus, his head tilting ever so slightly. "Or have you something else in mind?"

[Hopeflower]

"You will need to be smaller," the Oniare agreed. "Before we enter, there are things you must know. Refer to me as Llanan or Lanira. Do not bare your teeth or stare, and if you have questions, ask them quietly." With that said, Lanira tipped her head toward the ridge. "Follow." And she dipped her body to retrieve the hare, then turned and started after her subordinates.

[The Kingpin]

"And what about me?" asked Ceridwen as the Scholar's form shrank in a cloud of smoke. "I can't just stay here," she noted.

"Head back to Thimeyra. I'll return once I have seen what I need to see," stated the Scholarly Elf as he stepped forward in the direction of the ridge, reptilian eyes staring up towards the cacti and bushes behind which the younger Oniare waited.

"I can't leave you to go on your own!" protested the dragoness.

Septimus looked over his shoulder in surprise. "Ceridwen, I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the circumstances of our meeting," he stated firmly. The dragoness shrank at the sharp retort she received, the Scholar smiling a moment later as he looked up at her. "You needn't worry. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I'll be fine. You should go to Thimeyra. Have dinner with Syria. Read a novel. Sing some songs. Have some fun. I'll be there to share in them soon enough."

It was with some reluctance that the dragoness listened. Her inherent distrust of everything on two legs was sounding off alarms that demanded she stop the Son of Storms.

But he was right. Sad as it was, he had faced dangers that easily put the Oniare, even in there extensive cunning and visibly deadly capabilities, to shame. He would not have anything to worry about with them.

She hoped.

[C S]

A sentinel of Brodudika's guard marched down the streets not far from the teacher, and it was for this reason that the peacekeeper in proud armor was the subject of one particularly nefarious interest. Oh, word had gone around about the cat who spent her days as a girl, rushing in bravely to get a maniac off of the streets and nearly giving her own life for it. That was tavern fare for those with too much time on their hands and a nose for gossip. It took real detective skills to get the whole story. The ones who had followed a bloody trail through the night to visit her in the clinic, and the one who ultimately met Snicker.

The one. Dangerous little fellow that he was, perhaps not all too little.


The guard stopped suddenly. Steel boots stomped about as he turned his helm and peered through the visor shaped to emulate the maw of a fearsome drake. He saw plainly in firelight, the figure in a thick black coat that had been following him. Getting closer steadily. Sworn to his duty, a cut above those suspected of making their vows hollow to tip the scales of justice against those who needed them most, he did not go with what his gut was telling him. Not immediately.

"Citizen," said the knight in an approachable, but commanding way, as he had rehearsed many times before.

"Guardsman," replied the stranger. He pulled his hood back to reveal a jester's hat, and his jangled the tiny bells at the ends of it as he chuckled.

"It's a bit late for a street performance," the knight began to say, "and I am not the one to be performing to. Now quit acting suspicious before I am forced to take action."

"I could use a little action, really. You see, classes have ended not long ago according to my... research and there's someone I would like to meet."

"I am a guard. I don't arrange meetings."

"Oh sure, sure. I just need your helmet."

"My hel--"

And that was when Chuckle whipped off the hat by one of its tassels. He swung it about and bashed the guard with it, bursting a sack of powder that created a cloud of pale dust. The visor did nothing to stop it, and Chuckle, cackling, jumped away from the nasty batch that had the guard gasping for breath. The weight of his armor became too much for him, and he dropped to the pavement while Chuckle placed a gloved hand over his mouth, glancing back and forth for witnesses. These patrols always moved in pairs, he did not have much time. The sound alone was sure to have metal feet coming his way, worst case scenario being a particular set of sabatons advancing red eyes.

True to his word, Chuckle began the process of undoing the clasps and straps that kept the dragon's visage on the unconscious knight. If you were going to fight a war with the head, then one had best bring a helmet!

And the knight's sword. That was probably going to help things along as well.

[Hopeflower]

In the brief time it had taken the dragon to convince his companion to leave him, Lanira had picked her way up the quickest path to the top of the ridge. She stood silhouetted by the sun's dying rays, waiting for him. The fact that the hare in her jaws gave a particularly violent shudder and breathed its last in that moment probably did little to help with his attempted reassurances that he would be fine.


The disturbance had Viho stopping in his tracks and cocking his head. In the next few moments, he'd changed course and quickened his pace, gathering his magic to cloak his approach as thoroughly as he could. Energy tingled from his shoulder down to his fingertips, reminding himself that even without a sword, he was still more or less back in fighting shape. He just...needed to avoid getting stabbed or otherwise mortally wounded.

Even if he failed in that, maybe his luck would hold out. But on a night like this, with ice under his feet and sorely lacking in weapons, it certainly felt like he couldn't count on that. If it came to a struggle, he'd need to end it as quickly as possible.

He drew nearer to the source of the commotion. One man down, his senses told him. The other going through his things.

Viho set his jaw and slowed, relying on stealth to get close enough to see what he was dealing with.

[The Kingpin]

It wasn't much longer before Septimus was once more beside the Matriarch, the ground pulling tight and firm beneath his feet and easing his ascent to the ridge. Ceridwen, uncomfortable though she was, had relented, watching until he was on the ridge before taking flight.

"Lead the way, Lanira."

[C S]

Once Viho was in position at one end of the street and taking cover next to the towering building with buttresses spanning the gap from one side to the next, he was able to see the assailant for what he was. That was not saying much. He wasn't the tallest man around, nor did he have the stature of muscle to be of any imposing presence. With the jester hat on the ground and the lolling helmet loosely over his head and neck, the attack seemed more in line with some morbid comedy routine.

Chuckle laughed copiously, the helmet dancing about on his shoulders as he imagined what he looked like, wearing such an overly designed piece of garbage. The mighty Chuckle, with the face of a dragon! "These things are just... so... stupid!"

He contained himself enough to raise his unfairly obtained weapon, the length of sharp metal gleaming in the ambient orange light. With a hilt wrapped with an engraved wyrm and a narrow blade that tapered to a deadly point, the sword was elegant, and did not require bursting biceps to swing. And swing, Chuckle did, with more control than his demeanor would let on, finding his center of balance, the point where he could change his angle of attack on the fly. If this elf could read minds, he had no margin of error.