Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

Chuckle was sat on a bench in the vacant lobby of the precinct, head rolled off to one side, mouth agape and tongue hanging out. His face was smeared with blood, swollen and discolored. Beaten half to death was a compliment. The viking standing in the semicircle of officers and the one psychomancer gave no indication that she had any regrets about being a little too excessive. Her rigid posture and folded arms gave the impression she was just as stony underneath her metal face.

Johnathon being the thinker that he was, did not say anything else for a little while as the gears turned in his head, filtering the important details out of Viho's account and what the knight told them before heading out onto the streets again after downing another helping of water. The jester's hat was something to question the suspect about, as the kind of knowledge to make weaponized substances wasn't exactly common. There were only a few professions where those skills were useful, and most of them did not fit with what they had learned from Natalie, that the followers of Xilo were the downtrodden who needed a silver tongue to give their lives some direction. However, with Viho's description of his use with a sword, was this man a sort of soldier, or mercenary in his so-called past life?

That was an unsettling possibility, that the ones still out there were even more dangerous and the reason why they have been quiet was that they were plotting something big, infiltrating sources of information to be a few steps ahead of them all. Then there was the issue of the helmet's significance. That was something so arbitrary that a session with the pocketwatch was in order as to find out what that meant.

While Johnathon pondered these things, Jesse snapped her overalls and shrugged. "I can't say we don't have people skilled at putting others back together again. By morning he should be washed off and maybe they'll put a splint on his nose so it doesn't heal all crushed in like that."

[Hopeflower]

Viho inclined his head and offered, "I didn't get much from him, but what impressions I did get suggested he may have been looking for me. I can't say for certain yet, but he might have some knowledge of what I did to Natalie." He gave the unconscious man an assessing glance, then filed that away to worry about after a good night's sleep. There wasn't much he could do until after Johnathan had taken a crack at making the man spill his guts.

[C S]

Kenneth grunted. "Honor amongst thieves, friends of the must disreputable sort are still friends?"

"They act without unity, leave each other out to dry when they get caught, but will try to avenge each other when they are?" Jesse wondered. "What kind of sense does that make?"

"It doesn't." Johnathon reflected on how this was orchestrated by a reptile that just wanted to get more gold in his pockets. It was a sad irony that the one they followed wouldn't spare the effort to return the gesture. Was it still considered a gesture to avenge a friend, even if they were a terrorist? "It's the world they dream of, though. The world they think they want, I mean."

Natalie was sleeping soundly in his office, quite content in the reality where up was up and down was down and everything else fell in line.

Evisa moved. A simple motion, a flex, that had her muscles rippling underneath the overlapping scales of her armor, almost making her seem larger than she was. "It doesn't matter what they think. They go after Viho or anyone else on my watch, and I'll ride fire itself out of that hole outside of the city and shine a light of judgement on their sorry asses."

[Hopeflower]

A hint of appreciation edged Viho's faint smile. "No doubt. In any case, it would probably be wise to assume the others know as much as he does." He reached up to rub at his face tiredly. "He wasn't far from the school. I don't know how safe it will be to let classes go on as normal." He spoke half to himself, weary with mana drain and the implication that his actions were leading these dangerous people straight to a building full of half-trained magic wielders. Evisa, much as her abilities would be immeasurably helpful in protecting the citizens, couldn't be everywhere at once - and with her elementals to train, couldn't stand guard day in and day out.

[C S]

"With you around, they'd have to be on their last legs to think about hitting the school. You know, because if they think about it you'll... uh... yeah..." Kenneth responded and then chuckled weakly. He really did not mean to blunder into that choice of words.

[Hopeflower]

At that, Viho cracked and uttered a short laugh of his own, if a tired one. He could certainly hope his presence would be a deterrent, but when dealing with people like this...it was hard to know. "I appreciate the vote of confidence," he said. He stepped back and turned to go. Hopefully tomorrow would see them all making some sense of all of this.

[C S]

"Mm. It seems about that time, then," said Johnathon. Kenneth grinned and feigned naivete.

"Time for us to get some sleep!?" the other Green-Coat broached with a child-like excitement.

Jesse growled. "There isn't a joke funny enough to change the fact that our jobs have ******** hours," she stated flatly. She looked over to the man on the bench, thinking that the suspects they brought in were the lucky ones. There had to be some kind of bliss in being knocked literally senseless. They got more sleep in a night than the officers who had to deal with them.

"Hey, Light-Lady," Jesse said to Evisa, "You think you can help us get him into the cell before you go?"

"I brought him here, didn't I?" the viking replied. There needn't be anymore words spoken, as she lifted Chuckle by his collar as if he were a sack. "Where do you keep your garbage?"

"Ah, let's not berate the criminals anymore than others will, shall we?" Johnathon interjected. "They're still people, as much as legal proceedings would rather them not be in these cases." Natalie's change of heart -- brain? -- already made her sentencing a difficult thing to negotiate. Paradoxically, she had admitted to a conspiracy she no longer had any recollection of.

"Eh." Evisa looked up at the ragdoll of a person she held. "He's lucky I only used my helmet. He'd prefer a few harsh words to a proper beating any day, I promise you. The lives of those like him are better spent as Novarah's punching bags anyway."

Jesse made a hmph sound. "I can't say I disagree, but the matter isn't so black and white for the bunch of us who can't fall several stories and just walk it off."

"And that's why people like me are put on this world by her Grace," the lady wearing scales said simply, then shrugged her shoulder, jostling Chuckle's head. "In any case, you've yet to answer the question."

"Trash goes out back, suspects go into custody. Right this way, miss," Kenneth said decisively, arcing an arm about in a flourish as he led Evisa towards the concealed door that led to the holding cell.

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar mulled that information over somewhat, considering how best to steer the conversation. Deciding that theology would be a good basis for the rest of the knowledge he sought to draw from the the Matriarch, he finally settled on, "What more can you tell me of Sethis and his daughters?"

[Hopeflower]

Lanira put her kill down and gave the dragon her full attention. "Much," she hissed simply. "We do not consider Sethis a god as others might. We do not expect his interference or favor. He simply is the father to all Oniare, and protector of the many hatchlings that never see adulthood. Rashin is the life-giver, as all things depend upon her light, and she who guides our steps when we hunt. And his youngest daughter, Skaal, watches over us when her sister must rest. But because she is easily distracted, her eye wanders, and on those darkest nights we must be aware that anything can and does happen."

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar considered what Lanira said, her kind's rationalisation of the lunar cycle and the sun. He noted parallels to the Dawnmother in their Rashin and Skaal in particular, though he chose not to voice them. The Oniare had proven to have little patience for information of the outside world that they already knew, and with the Divines having become greatly visible up to their final hours, he suspected they knew most of what he could have told the Matriarch.

"I see. What celebrations do you have that relate to Rashin, Skaal and Sethis?" he questioned. He paid special attention to the stray strands of related thoughts that linked to what she was telling him, just in case something 'slipped her mind'.

[Hopeflower]

The Oniare cocked her head, thinking. "Other people have their solstices," she began slowly. "I suppose the closest we have to that would be when the ground begins to thaw. Those of us who do not live in the desert must go to ground during the coldest months, or the temperatures would kill them. When they emerge, they spend the first days paying respect to those who did not survive the winter and thanking Rashin for returning her warmth to us. Then they go on a hunt, with the goal of taking down the biggest kill they can find, to make up for the months spent without food."

As she spoke, a few tiny copies of Lanira gathered their courage and scurried past the stranger in their den to beg their mother for food with shrill rasps and open mouths. She gave each of them a piece of hare that must have been as big as their heads and hushed them with the gentle scolding, "Be still."

They were not still. Two of them immediately began to squabble over who had the bigger piece of meat, and the rest quickly swallowed down what she gave them. Their little jaws, in a display of what they would one day be capable of as adults, dislocated to solve the problem of gulping down their dinners.

"And I suppose we, too, celebrate the longest day of the year," Lanira continued. "But we do it by basking in the heat of the day and running about like hatchlings when it gets cooler. As Rashin gives life, so does she give energy and the will to be alive."

[The Kingpin]

"Hm," the Scholar responded as he observed the behaviour of the young, noting their similarity to Hueilin whelps. In a way, he envied them for the playful antics they were able to get up to, having never had that himself as a lone hatchling. It was with a sad smile that he watched on, before looking up to the Matriarch. "What of the young ones? How are they reared?" he asked.

[Hopeflower]

"Ours are brought food until the day they catch their first mouse," Lanira replied. "Not all of them make it that far, and not all who do make it to adulthood. Some fall ill, and the ones that wander usually get taken by predators. It's for that reason our clutches are so big." With a long-fingered hand, she separated the wrestling siblings and redirected their attention back to their meal. "When they're old enough to hunt for themselves, the healthiest of them get traded to another family, to keep the bloodline from stagnating."

[The Kingpin]

"Generous," commented the Scholar. "One would think that you would keep the healthiest for yourself to keep the uh," he started, halting as for once, he couldn't decide what exactly to call them. He was inclined to call them a clan as his own kind had, as what she described existed for the Hueilin as well, but there wasn't quite enough of a similarity to justify it. "...To keep the tribe stronger than your potential foes," he finally decided on.

[Hopeflower]

Lanira cocked her head. "We get their healthiest in return, of course, but one would be justified in thinking so," she hissed. "We are not typically violent with one another. Too much risk of wasting venom." She tapped the side of her lower jaw with a claw. "We have a lot, and we replace it and our fangs if they get broken, but not so quickly that we can afford to bite one another when we could be biting prey."

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar's mouth parted in an acknowledging 'Ah' at that. "Understandable. Some of my kind have a similar problem. Smaller flame glands than others," he stated once she'd concluded her explanation. "What is your venom like, now that we are on the matter? How does it behave?" he inquired.

[Hopeflower]

"It depends on which Oniare you are dealing with." Lanira stood up to give the dragon a better look at the areas she was about to point out. "Some of us have no venom at all, but most do. Those we call Arietans have venom that attacks the nerves so quickly the prey never has a chance to escape. My family, known as Laemus, has a toxin that acts more slowly and not only paralyzes, but thins blood. No matter the venom, it is stored here - " she tipped her head back to indicate the underside of her jaw " - and here." Another tap, to just above where her lower jaw met her upper. "And of course, it is injected with these."

And she opened her mouth wide then. Some unseen muscles flexed, and two pairs of folding fangs pulled away from the rest of her teeth. Much like others of her kind, they were proportionally huge - and made to look bigger than they were by the protective sheaths. It was abundantly clear that only things on par with or tougher than her own hide would be a challenge for them to pierce.

[The Kingpin]

The Son of Storms watched the fangs in fascination, taking note of just how accurate it was for Ceridwen to call this place a snake's den. "I see there is more we share. My kind have fangs much like your own. Ours are thicker, further back and lack venom, however. They're mostly meant to crush bones, shells and other such things," he commented.

The thoughts on parallels between the Oniare and the Hueilin brought him to another consideration. "How long do your kind generally live? Seventy years? A century? Two?" he asked. He noted what she had said about the harsh life they lived and the dangers out there, so he expected it was unlikely that they'd live as long as his own kind even if they were capable of it.

[Hopeflower]

The scarred matriarch settled herself comfortably again. "Elders might live to be over two hundred years old, but that is rare. Once age starts slowing you down out here, you do not stand much of a chance against bigger predators," she explained. "More commonly they live to be about one hundred and fifty, and then they leave their title to someone else and go off to find such a predator, to die fighting. Most, however, do not make it to such an age. There is always some illness, some injury, some food shortage that proves to be our end." In a very human gesture, she shrugged. "Let us say one century is about average."

[The Kingpin]

Of course, that brought up another consideration. "And how do they live to be such an age when oppressed Skinwalkers in their tribes are constantly seeking their own freedom and position?"