Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

There was not enough time in the day for Matthias to recount his tale of hardship and anguish to his old business partner. There was even less time to do so while standing outside of the door to his emporium. The group of soldiers were then welcomed inside of the odd but quaint warehouse, with Matthias taking his leave to catch up with the dwarven liaison and explain to the best of his ability what had taken him from his public seat and forced him into his current predicament.

Now, while the stone storage place was not the most conventional of buildings in the scheme of architecture, it was still a storage place. The main floor, stacked high with crates seemingly too large for the dwarves that handled them, was anything but homely. One felt as tiny as a dwarf while standing at its doorway, which made Valeria wonder why dwarves had such a propensity to build megastructures. She considered that dwarves, with their spirits bolstered by unfathomable tolerance for alcohol, were not so easily humbled. Perhaps they chased that sensation of accomplishment and contentment, and it was their curse as a people to never know it, driving them to build things ever bigger and more complex than the last undertaking.

"Tragic," Valeria mumbled to herself.

"Pardon, Trupont?" Chandra asked while her eyes were still surveying the heights of the boxes stacked up to form aisles.

Valeria shook her head. "Nothing."

The soldiers did not venture too far into the warehouse to set up their "lodgings". There was a cabin of a sort for administration, presumably. It looked like a castle fortification, but the crenelations that were embossed out from the surface were decorative. Of course dwarven sensibilities would be tickled by images of nigh impervious holds. The door to the bottom level was pale, cloudy material that invoked the likeness of crystals.

"Ah, no doubt a dwarven miracle," said Urlox.

Baaz walked up to it and experimentally rapped her knuckles on it, listening to the sound it made. "I'm fairly sure that's just fancy dwarf-glass. It's weird, but nothing miraculous. Did you think they found a way to carve things out of ice that wouldn't melt or something?"

"Yes," Urlox replied without skipping a beat, then laughed at his own expense.

The glass door did not swing open, but slid on rollers. If this was how dwarves treated their workplaces, one struggled to speculate what a proper inn would have been like in Vonaeghardt. One also struggled to speculate how much such accommodations would have costed per night. Compared to how they made due in Niyera, this place was a high class establishment.

It did not take long for the soldiers to offload their luggage and set up their bedrolls. It was part of their training to set up camps when deployed out in the wilderness outside of Daaven's walls, and they definitely had ample practice in these old skills. A time of rest was welcome, with walls around their stay to temper the warrior's instinct. They wouldn't have to do any battle, and so far underground, perhaps even Matthias could show his true face and relax for a while.


"Oi. We are in dwarven country, eh?" Urlox asked, sitting on his bedding.

"Aye," Baaz confirmed, leaning against a wall and resisting the urge to thumb through the ledgers on a nearby counter made out of a gleaming steel. There were all kinds of official looking equipment and writing utensils sitting on it. She figured that it wouldn't do well for Matthias' standings with Grundveldt to go mess around with his stuff. Urlox would have stopped her even if she did, though with some apprehension and disappointment.

"I'm surprised you had to ask, captain. Did you not look around at our company while we were on the way over here?" Chandra replied. To Valeria's chagrin, the streets of Vonaeghardt were not enclosed. They did, however, have beautiful archways that lined the busiest intersections, which had peculiar glowing chimes hanging along the interior. There wasn't an issue with droppings, thankfully.

"Just reaffirming things, Berra." Urlox was a man that took nothing for granted. As evident with his misconception with the door, if he did, he would have gotten himself into a lot more trouble than usual. It was through a life of shenanigans that he'd learned to think one step at a time. "If we are in dwarf country, that means..." He rummaged through his things and then produced the wrap that contained the gathered shards of his broken blade.

Baaz, Chandra and even the reclusive Valeria leaned in with interest.

"You can revive it!" Baaz exclaimed. "Brilliant!"

Urlox laughed. "There may be hope for her, yet!"


After they all settled in and set their weapons aside, Baaz and Valeria went up to the next floor, both taken by curiosity. Don't go snooping around, Baaz had to restrain herself. On more than one occasion she reached out with her other hand to lower the one that was about to open up a book she probably shouldn't be looking through, or to stop herself from picking up one of the gilded tools lying about that might as well have been artifacts. Maps and small paintings were all over this room, which may have been a study. It had a large glass window that allowed one to see out into the expansive warehouse. It was up in this room that the two appreciated the tangle of cranes and lifts that allowed the crates to be stacked as they were, and the braziers that held the chunks of arcane crystal that lit up the huge room.

"How have you been holding up, Trupont?" Baaz asked. It was a genuine interest for the most part, but the timing of it was to give herself something else to think about that wasn't wow that thing over there is pretty.

"Oh? Uh. I guess I've been well." Valeria rubbed a shoulder, thinking. "We won't be fighting anyone for a while," she added, which brought a tentative smile to her face. "Maybe we'll find some clothes to wear that aren't padded armor, compartmentalized chic."

"Would mean we'd have more stuff to carry with us when we head out of here," Baaz replied. After a short pause, she continued, "Assuming they aren't several sizes too small. Though I wouldn't object to you in a tight dress, so long as I don't have to fetch it."

"Walgruuf." Valeria crossed her arms and huffed.

Baaz shrugged. "I think I blew my last good dating chance a long time ago. Can't blame me for trying my luck elsewhere."

"What?"

"Something for later."

Valeria raised a brow. "Alright." She thought about what to say next, tapping a foot. "Are you holding up okay?"

"About as well as someone like me can," was what immediately came to her mind. "Oh yeah, just peachy. Wait, not entirely so," she said out loud.

Valeria was surprised initially, then she stepped a little closer to the ranger. "What's wrong?"

"This place. It makes no sense to me."

"Oh," Valeria responded flatly. That was it?

"Yeah. Bear with me here, maybe my head can't deal with it, but tell me what you think. So, there's this lake, right? And a waterfall underneath it? So how come the lake doesn't just fall down into this cave place and full it up a bit, if not entirely?"

"Uh."

"And where does all that falling water go? You can hear it echoing out wherever you go in this city, I bet even where it's noisiest, but there are mines out deeper down. Either this cave goes down to where the ley lines are, or there is something seriously warped going on!" It was Baaz's turn to huff exasperatedly.

"There is no accounting for aquifers," Valeria offered lethargically.

Baaz gave her a sidelong look. "You're saying that the dwarves pump the falling lake water back up to drink?"

"I didn't say that, but now that you mention it..."

"They drink booze almost exclusively, Trupont!"

"You don't know that," Valeria countered evenly. "And even the most alcoholic beverages start out with water as an ingredient, so..."

Baaz waved a hand dismissively, unconvinced. "Let's leave the non-depleting lake and the un-drowning fort be for now and let's talk about our dead world-ender outside."

"What about it?"

Baaz shook her head, feeling some distress that she was the only one who felt the way she did. She couldn't have known Valeria was tangling with very similar thoughts earlier, unvoiced though they were. "World-enders don't just die underground with a giant crater up over their dead-heads!"

"Um."

"What can kill a world-killer, Valeria?"

She blinked. "A-another--?"

"Another world-ender, yes, good, exactly what I was thinking. Where is the other world-ender, Trupont? What murdered the giant elemental monster?"

"... Whatever became the lake?"

Baaz narrowed her eyes. "You're a cheeky one, you know that?"

"Well I don't know -- the lake's pretty weird but it's fine enough to fish out of so..." Valeria held her arms apart haplessly and shrugged.

Baaz pinched the bridge of her nose. "Man, this place is ********."

[The Kingpin]

"She's not wrong, Walgruuf," quipped Matthias as he ascended the stairs, hands held behind his back as his eyes scanned through the warehouse's stock, taking note of what resources were present and what were missing. The sight of it all had gotten him into a merchantile mood, and had caused him to ponder the possibility of abandoning the Daavenian branch of his plan in favour of picking up his trade. "I'm fairly sure I told you there were two of them, back in the lift. I may be mistaken," he mused as he approached the two, having just left the other two Rangers in their team.

[C S]

"Uh," Valeria started as per her indecisive habit.

"What's in the crater atop the giant dead elemental monster in the cavern below is what killed aforementioned giant dead elemental monster," Baaz deadpanned incredulously.

"How did things go with Varist?" Valeria interjected in a very decisive way. Best to steer Baaz away from the topic that annoyed her so much.

[The Kingpin]

His brow furrowed in response to the question as he approached the two, turning to face one section of the towering boxes and shelves in the warehouse, taking note of the variety of tools and instruments placed on smaller shelves around the heavier hardware. "It went well. He's filled me in on how trade with Valenhad has crumbled since I died. Bustling as the city is, they still haven't found a replacement for the goods I supplied. It occurs to me that several other cities I dealt with are probably in a similar situation. It has left me...uncertain, about my previous plan."

[C S]

Baaz bit her lip. She wasn't done ranting and raving about how this place was nonsense condensed into reality. Nevertheless...

"There are still people out there looking for you, yeah? And you can't pretend to be your dead twin because he's... dead."

[The Kingpin]

"The only danger really left is in Niyera. They have contacts, but so do I. The Niyeran operation has fallen through, and Riverdale is on alert. I doubt they will attempt anything in the near future," he explained. "That said," he added as he turned to face Valeria directly, "...I do fully intend to remove the head of the serpent eventually. I just feel there is some good I can do for people in the mean time rather than hiding out as a fishermen on a lonely lake."

[C S]

"It might be more eventful for you. I have an uncle who is a fisherman, and I can't imagine the boredom he must endure on a slow day when the fish aren't biting," said the young ranger with a hint of joy evident in her tone. The ousted merchant, retaking his mantle and place where he belonged. Meanwhile, Baaz turned her body halfway to look out of the window and hide her sullen expression.

"There were fishing boats up top. They fish from the dead water elemental too? Are they just taking a replenishing supply of its organs or something? Can water have organs!?"

[The Kingpin]

Matthias nodded, thoughtful as he turned to look at Baaz, who had in turn given her back to them. Glancing to Valeria, he tilted his head in the direction of the other ranger, a questioning look crossing his features. Just what had soured her mood?

[C S]

Valeria stepped forwards a few paces, then looked over her shoulder to make sure she didn't have Baaz's attention on her. She moved to whisper in Matthias' ears then, saying, "She isn't pleased with the circumstances behind this place. She might have had some traumatic experience with elementals, I don't know. She might not like giant things in general after her involvement in Freyr-Lunge on the day it collapsed."

[The Kingpin]

That earned Valeria a pair of raised brows, Matthias looking at her with renewed intrigue and surprise. He hadn't been aware that Daaven was involved in Draxon's collapse, and the implications threw everything he knew of those last days into turmoil.

It was further cause for him to wish he was back in Riverdale. Back then he had the benefit of accurate news of the surrounding nations, courtesy of Kaelan's network of spies and informants.

He decided, then, that this was not a conversation to be had here. But it was information he wanted to know more thoroughly. "I wish to know more of this story," he stated quietly in the ranger's ear, a hand on her shoulder as he turned to leave. And with that, he made his way for the stairs.

[C S]

Valeria stood where she was reflecting on how she wound up there. Baaz had a story to tell her, and she had a story to tell Matthias about Baaz...

She scratched her head.

"Uh... right," she mumbled to herself.

Baaz exhaled sharply through her nostrils in a very bull-like way and stamped her foot on the ground. Valeria jumped. Her mouth opened as her eyes widened, on the verge of saying the first thing that came to mind, or even saying something without thought. Anything that could stop Baaz's anger at... whatever it was that had made her angry now. Talking about the things that could make her angry made her angry?

"It's not my damn home. I don't have to live here, looking up at that thing's multi-legged *** all day and night..."

Valeria had a sigh of relief as Baaz stormed past her, hearing the trailing end of her gripe.

"How do they tell time down here anyway?"

Valeria closed her eyes and gripped her shins for support as she doubled over. "I think my life just flashed before my eyes."




At that moment, far away...



The armored being turned his sights skywards when he sensed the pulsing of mana close to the heart of the city. A waxing and waning aura of magic that rippled across the ether to him. The signal either went unnoticed to the general populace or dismissed by the fraction of mages, dabbling or proficient, who thought it to be a meaningless anomaly. A practical joke, even, something meant to disturb meditations, excite volatile potions and send spells haywire.

It was an instantaneous message to Desrium, as it was intended to be. The preparations were complete.

"Friend," he spoke, and the woman turned her head to note how distant the suit of armor seemed to be. Speaking in a persistent monotone didn't lend itself to sounding interested in many things as it was, and gazing off into space was just the icing on the cake.

"Are you bored?" she asked reflexively, which then led to her wondering about the things Desrium had told her over the course of the day. He didn't sleep and he didn't tire... could he get bored? She had supposed she would find out in a moment.

"It is time."

Natalie froze. Desrium stopped walking.

"Oh."

From then on, they walked in silence to where Natalie had to be for her hour of truth.

The time was almost upon the city: the execution of Snicker.

[The Kingpin]

The gallows outside the city hall was an archaic and foreboding construct; one that, for many a citizen of the young city state brought back memories of the Kingdom of the Draks, of towering guards in imposing armour and relentless executioners, heartless nobles and greedy tyrants. It was with no surprise then that there was a general feeling of apprehension in the hearts of everyone who had taken notice of the old platform. It had been one of the first things dismantled when the elves of Thimeyra took charge of the advisory council, as they had hoped to ease the unrest and distrust of the people over their presence. Their chosen form of punishment was incarceration and, in the most extreme cases, beheading as a form of execution. Quicker, easier, and less formal, they had said. Something that was harsh and sent a message, but at the same time did not make a spectacle of the ending of a life, and in so doing, hopefully emphasised the sanctity of life in general.

There was much murmuring in the crowds as to where their so-called sanctity of life had gone now.

As if further strengthening this seeming lapse into the old regime, the aristocrats of the former Draxonian city could be seen lined up near the front of the crowd, observing the gallows in their finest clothes as though they were attending some dark, morbid play. They chattered amongst themselves, some joking about the old days, and for one unaware of the political climate in the past couple of years, it would have been nigh impossible to tell the difference between what stood there now, and what stood there under Draxonian rule.

Andruil stood near the edge of the square, perched atop a number of boxes in a kneel, his hood lifted over his head. He looked like a tramp for the most part, a loose brownish-green coat that looked to be primarily made up of a large sheet of leather or tarp, wrapped around his shoulders. He cared little for the concerns of the populace, too focused in his meditation as he reached out to the minds of everyone in range. He was one of a small handful of psychomancers in the area, his range limited, but aided in what he had been taught about singling out specific thoughts. As it was, his focus was singularly on the thoughts related to Snicker, and those who considered themselves close to her in particular. Far above, Shiryaz patrolled the sky, eyes watchful for threats, trained as he was to cry out at signs of danger to his master.

[Hopeflower]

While one might expect to recognize the other psychomancers in the crowd, they would have been hard-pressed to pick them out. In the interest of keeping low profiles, Viho and Arsenic looked as little like themselves as was possible for them to achieve. Indeed, it was even a different "Ambrosia" from the one Andruil had seen who took her place among the crowd, to avoid the risk of any recognition.

More immediately familiar was Vix's red hair, as the innkeeper stood well toward the back of the gathering, her arms folded loosely and disapproval written into the furrow of her brow - something she didn't need to fake. The unbidden image of what the gallows were surely once used for sent an unpleasant chill crawling down her spine.

Settled in the middle of it all as he was, Viho picked out each of his allies even as he dismissed what was irrelevant and listened for those thoughts that would give their targets away. The spot was perfectly chosen. The crowd was easily covered by his range, as was every escape route and vantage point in the immediate area. So he waited, breathing evenly and quietly, and he watched.

[C S]

There had been a series of orchestrated steps after Desrium was summoned by his trusted mages of the magical research division.

The first had been returning Natalie to the precinct. The faceless officer that accompanied the Stalwart was sent into the building, and Desrium walked off. It was a common scene at various times and places all over the city. No one would have thought any different about it then, and no one stopped the armored being to question him about his daily agendas.

Behind closed doors, in front of the statue sentinels, the nameless officer was dressed down to the woman underneath. She needed the assistance to shed the heavy layers of her coat. After she was out of her walkabout clothes, she was taken by Jesse for further prep, in a room to preserve her decency. Natalie took off her dress and came face to face with the black tatters that Snicker had worn, along with the crude mask. She swallowed her pride and fear and dressed to look the part she was going to play.



"This feels wrong," Natalie had told Jesse.

"We tried to wash it as best as we could, but maybe it didn't take to the soap we used--"

"Not the soap. The meaning. What this looks like."

"You aren't going to be winning any pageants atop that platform, you know."

Natalie gave Jesse a flat look a few degrees away from pleading. Come on, now.

"Sorry. You get conditioned to diffuse chatter like this when you're out on the force."

Natalie folded her hands and sighed. "Jobs to stay away from once these wrongs have been set right: law enforcement."



Jesse threw a thick coat over her and led her out of the room. A contingent of officers had formed up to receive her, amongst them were the Green-Coats. "Just another bust, try not to oversell it, huh?" someone had called out, getting a swift reply, "We needed the cart to haul off a bunch of scumbags in the last bust. I don't recall ever parading someone through the city with it."

"Alright, it isn't another bust. Just walk with the cart, make sure no one tries anything on the way over to city hall and look angry all the way there."


That was step three, after getting Natalie into character. She was taken out of the precinct in shackles, Johnathon and Kenneth hooking their arms with hers and then hoisting her up into the cage fitted to the wagon parked outside of the building. The burly mat of bristling fur lowed when the wagon driver cracked the reins and then pulled off.

A tentatively called step four was delivering Natalie while looking like the ironclad fist of the law.

And finally, the disputed step five was a matter of waiting. Natalie was on the other side of the platform, mobbed by officers and made to look pathetically isolated in the wagon-driven cell.

The unclear step six was waiting on the other side of city hall's doors. The red-eyed executioner himself, the last line of defense should the last four Stalkers best everyone else in the formation. He was, as Byron affectionately called him, the morale breaker.

[The Kingpin]

The chatter in the crowd grew more audible as the cart came to a halt behind the gallows, the noisiest of it coming from the smallest group, the nobles. Promises of drinks at their homes and a celebratory event that evening floated amongst the most traditionally well-to-do of those in attendance, while others simply watched on in some degree or other of disgust.

There were those who were in between, however. Ones overjoyed with the planned execution of the criminal known as Snicker. Ones who had seen the damage she'd wrought before she was crippled and brought to the precinct. Ones who were willing to put up with the repugnant Draxonian nobles if only for the fact that, for once, their interests overlapped.

[Hopeflower]

A whisper of disgust touched Viho's awareness where it overlapped with Arsenic's. The image of a man - a boy - who would be king, calling for his son's death, bled through. It was a memory Viho was quick to reach out and flick away, as he sensed the half-buried rage it still stirred.

He didn't have to ask Arsenic to focus. The action snapped him back to the present as quickly as if Viho had shouted at him. That was something of a relief - they needed all the hands they could get, and distraction wasn't something they could afford at the moment.

[C S]

Four guests of honor, invited in bulk, due to arrive separately, yet each of them were punctual in respects to their respective plans.

"You always have to be on time to big get-togethers, parties, functions -- anything with people in big fancy clothes. They like to come late, so it gives you time to scope things out. My rule of thumb is to go after the one with the biggest wigs and the largest feathers and furs. If all else fails, just hit whoever you can; you're bound to walk away with something to show and that's all that matters."

They were on time, alright. They just were not near the crowd. The gathering was handy for them all the same: it allowed them to pinpoint what things were about, and how things were likely going to be arranged. The big wooden gallows seemed to be as good a guess as any as to where everyone would be looking. And also, where they would be hanging Snicker, of course.




Snake's Fury had made the best of the city's honorable intent. He was out of the city on small assignments to accumulate enough coin for his master plan. His master plan had not accounted for an execution, granted, or an attempt at freeing one less capable than himself. "Oh, I do love the tension." Sinuously, he pulled himself along the metalwork railings outside one of the many buildings overlooking the city square. "It's as taut as a bowstring."

His small assignments were nothing to put him in the annals of warriors, and they were encounters bested with brute force as opposed to finesse and trickery. But he was Fury.

"And today, Fury comes from above!"

The bow he used was nothing special, a secondhand pawned off by its prior user, most likely for something more impressive. Fury was no stranger to the art of sending steel along on an arch. An arrow nocked on the string and its wielder reclining on his perch in wait, Fury was ready to make his play where few bothered to look in the day time. Unless it was mail time.



Laughter was impressed with the work of Chuckle, but was hung up on one small conundrum. What fun was mayhem if you just put people to sleep to bring it about? There was no punchline in stabbing an unconscious person to death. That was just uncouth and boring, downright military. She looked no different than anyone else walking down the vacant streets of Brodudika, canteens strapped around her coat and waterskins concealed within. No one in their right mind would want a taste of what was in them, but it was sure to be a riot.



Glee was an infectious personality. Xilo hadn't recognized it, but she was a latent illusionist. Her unwitting psychomantic powers were beguiling, giving her a natural talent in what took the reptile much pain, trial and error to master. The sort that was so amicable, at least to the poor soul twisted by her words and mind, that killing on her behalf as if she was a queen didn't seem like half-bad an idea. All it took were a few intoxicating phrases.

Xilo hadn't recognized her gift, but he sure as hell envied and coveted it. "Don't tell anyone else, but you're my favorite."



Which left Pickle.

The only one who had joined the crowd. And he stood next to the elven innkeeper, with a pickle jar tucked into his chest. While he snacked on a pickle.

Really, all that went through his mind involved a pickle in some shape or form.

"Pickles are damn good, let me tell you. Sometimes the only thing keeping me alive is a good pickle."

[The Kingpin]

Even above the vast crowds currently in the square, there was little that could hide the familiar scent of pickles.

Normally, he would pay no mind to such a thing, but seeing as the subject of their mission was an organisation that was almost a literal extension of one so infamous for his antics involving that very thing, Andruil found himself compelled to investigate.

Dropping to the ground a few moments later, he wandered through the absent-minded crowd, letting his nose lead him to the source of that offensive stench.

[Hopeflower]

The slight wrinkle of her nose was the only outward sign Vix gave of her displeasure with the smell. And her reaction coupled with the fact that someone was eating pickles, of all things, at an execution was more than enough to draw Viho's attention. When he factored in the connections Andruil was making, it was enough for him to decide it was highly unlikely this was coincidence. If he was wrong, well, nothing wrong with bringing in someone who didn't lose their appetite at a hanging. As soon as he had the man's location pinned, he relayed to his allies, By Vixen. He's snacking.

An uncomfortable twinging started between Viho's shoulder blades, putting him on even higher alert. Why was there only one in the crowd so far? Maybe it was simply too early for them all to have arrived, but...

Well. He'd do himself no favors working himself into a panic.

[The Kingpin]

The Knight wasted no more time in making his way over to the Innkeeper. Using the crowds and distractions to his advantage, he took a slightly indirect route until he was stepping out of the chaos to one side of 'Snake''s suspected apprentice, pausing once to look towards the gallows as if appraising the view, and finally taking a spot near the man. All the while, he had to physically fight the urge to wrinkle his nose at the stench of the pickles and the brine.