Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

"Petty. Also a waste of labor," Syria observed. "I don't think the people who gave their time to build the channels would have appreciated their disuse in such a way." Even as she spoke, her eyes went to the uncommon and fantastic. Inner Zuppoland harkened back to the days centuries gone, but the people were still such oddities. They were of slender form, like elves, but more defined as a result of a life under the ocean's weight. And though they retained their more human features, there were additional things that truly set them apart from the other sects of humanity. Many men had bony extrusions at the back of the lower jaw, like dull barbs, while women had a webbed, fin-like structure lining the lobes of their ears.

They wore loose clothing, a style that defied dresses and robes. Syria likened the appearance to the people on the street wearing tapestries, regal and colorful and staying true to the motif of tropical colors and patterns. Bands and circles dazzled the eyes when Zuppo people were clustered in crowds, which parted only for wide-set crabs with spindly legs sidestepping through the sandy roads with packs of goods on their shelled backs.

[Hopeflower]

"And yours," Viho returned. In the barest of small motions, his gaze flicked to Arsenic before he bent back over his lunch. "Tread carefully."

"Always do," Rowan quipped, linking arms with Vix. "Y'know, except for all those times when we didn't."

When did you start learning how to be a father? Arsenic wondered, not for the first time, studying the older psychomancer for a moment before he turned to follow Vix and Rowan.

It wasn't a thought he'd meant to be heard, but the shadow of a response reached him nonetheless.

Apparently, when I started teaching.

[The Kingpin]

With all things said and done, and Andruil's own preparations in order, it was time to bid a final farewell to his host here. Holding up a hand in farewell, he stepped out of the door behind his friends, closing it to give the older Psychomancer his peace.

Once they were heading down the stairs, he voiced the situation for them in detail. "You three head on home and prepare your belongings. There should be three um...mounts, waiting in the stable in the back. You'll know which ones when you see them. I'm going to say a last goodbye to Desrium and inform him of our departure. I'll meet you back at the boarding house afterwards."

[Hopeflower]

'As you like,' Arsenic replied. The walk back was quick and familiar at this point. With two of them being used to traveling light and the third used to cleaning up quickly, getting their things put away was a speedy affair.

Going to check their mounts...less so.

'Look at those claws,' Arsenic said, circling one of the creatures. He was practically giddy with the proximity to unfamiliar dangerous predators - something Rowan and Vix were certain they shouldn't encourage, but it was hard not to agree with his fascination.

There were three of them, white, sleek-furred beasts with massive horned heads and lean, powerful bodies. Their limbs were long and their paws wide, the better adapted for moving over snowy terrain efficiently. And the claws Arsenic had commented on were wickedly curved, probably for hooking prey out of the water. Their teeth, the trio quickly discovered when one of the animals yawned, were just as lethal-looking - a double row of triangular, flesh-shearing ivory points. The one Arsenic was examining snorted and flicked its long, thick tail, nearly clipping the mute and knocking him over.

"Can't deny they'll get us where we're going," Rowan said, pulling him back before he could thoroughly irritate the mount. "Are these things even native? I've never seen anything like them."

"Could be from farther north," Vix suggested.

Arsenic aimed a wounded look at Rowan when her grip tightened. He hadn't been trying to inch closer. Really. 'Either way...who wants to make a bet on how fast they run?'

[The Kingpin]

Speed was something that the Mute's thoughts shared with the Knight in that moment. But where Arsenic pondered the speed of his new steed, Andruil pondered another kind of speed.

The densely packed streets of Brodudika's inner districts were never an easy place to traverse. The crowds milled about at a pace that was not conductive to a swift errand and plan. It was the same as many other cities, Riverdale and Crestvale being no different. Scaling the unscalable was something of a routine activity in his clandestine career, but after his time with Dahnae, he'd come to enjoy it in a less overbearing setting, as he had when he was young. Innocent. Free.

It was convenient that he could sense Desrium's presence before he saw him, that very wrongness that was a side effect of his existence serving now as a guide for the more attuned of his friends. Andruil looked up towards one of the vast, cathedral like buildings that littered the region. An actual cathedral, now that he took a look. Its slanted roof was supported by dozens of buttresses, and there, as a tiny red beacon glimmering in the shadows, stood the Stalwart; a silent sentinel observing the goings on of the City of Friends, ready to leap into action if anything were to threaten the safety and peace of the people. Well, at least this time, it wouldn't be he that had to do the leaping.

Looking around, Andruil eyed some of the crates and awnings framing the roads, a particularly sturdy shade overhanging what appeared to be a stall selling maps. From there, he could see access to a low roof. That low roof was connected to the tall walls of a building twice its height, and from there, he could see a balcony that was within jumping distance of both it, and the roof of the cathedral. His hazel gaze flitted back and forth briefly as he charted his path to the Stalwart, before springing into action.

Running at a box by the stall, he used it as a springboard, catching hold with his gloved hands and swinging his lower half right over the side of it. With barely any momentum lost, he sprinted onto the low roof, the woody, slightly clay-like clacking of the tiles sounding out under his feet as he picked up speed.

The wall was quite smooth, but not completely. Notches in the stone where the bricks had been eroded made for handholds, and windowsills acted as an even further gripping point for the Knight. One hand over another, he swung and climbed his way up the wall, letting himself drop briefly before tugging hard when he was nearly at the top, launching himself over the edge and landing in a kneel.

The final obstacle, the balcony, proved a tougher nut to crack. Rolling his shoulders, he flexed his arms out, dropping into a stance where his legs were beneath and ahead of him, the leading foot touching the ground by the toes alone as he brought the opposite arm forward. The other shifted behind his back, and he took several deep breaths.

Feeling he was ready, he bolted, the gap between himself and the ledge leading to the balcony shrinking fast. In the final instant, he put all his strength into his leading foot, his hazel gaze turning golden as he shot across the distance.

By all reason, he should have fallen to the ground and had his bones pulverised. That would have happened to any normal man attempting a job even a fraction this distance. But in that moment, he soared across the gap of an entire house, making contact with the balcony for an instant before the second leap catapulted him across the remainder, landing in a kneel on the cathedral roof, a hand bracing against a buttress as he smiled, rising to his feet. He never got sick of the rush. "Just like the old days," he murmured to himself as he walked down the length of the roof, to where his friend awaited.

[C S]

"Is this how you had envisioned our first meeting in this city to go?" the Paladin inquired, watching the whole performance play out from start to finish without moving an iota.

[The Kingpin]

"Something like that, yes," admitted the Knight with a smirk. "I don't suppose it is anything like how you expected to meet me, that day or any day," he responded as he approached, only stopping when they were within arm's reach of one another, his hands clasping behind his back.

[C S]

"I don't suppose you ever expected to see a suit of armor stumble out of the woods, to partake in the cooking of a dragon," Desrium countered evenly.

[The Kingpin]

"Maybe not that, specifically. But seeing a dragon barbecue a fish in a way that doesn't involve simply spitting fire on it...well, it has a way of opening one's mind to new perspectives, let us say," stated Andruil, shrugging even as he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It really had been quite a while, hadn't it?

[C S]

"I never did get to apologize to Vihoson for the consequences of him having an open, eager mind in my presence." The smooth delivery of that line did not do the very legitimate grievance justice. "Do pass on my sincerest sentiments before you set off," Desrium requested.

[The Kingpin]

The Knight's brows raised at that. "Of course... You are aware?" he asked, taken somewhat aback. Was he keeping them under such close watch?

[C S]

Desrium looked to the sky for the briefest of moments. Just this once, he knew what it was like for others to speak to him, and be taken unawares by his moments of inaneness. Evisa, all the way back to Ithra. "Do you recall what I told you, when Arashi had come to Brodudika? It still applies today. In fact, more than once before, I have seen you come this way in your preparations for mounts and supplies."

[The Kingpin]

"True. It had slipped my mind," admitted the Knight as he took a few steps more, looking down over the edge of the cathedral to the ground below. "Then I suppose I need only extend to you my farewell and thanks, and those of my companions."

[C S]

Desrium nodded. "It has been a pleasure having you here, and I owe your troupe a debt of personal gratitude as well." For it was not for nothing that Septimus, too, called them his friends.

[The Kingpin]

"No thanks is required," stated the Knight as his gaze fixed on a certain spot down below, atop a small shed out of the way of the main street. Shiryaz was perched patiently, neck craned and crests raised, capturing the visage of the griffin for which his kind was named. "After all, what is the City of Friends, if not protected by such friends?"

[C S]

"I have learned that graciousness and gratitude are part and parcel of this particular thing called friendship," Desrium replied in his manner of speaking. "Aspects which are never in short supply, contrary to the insistence that they are not needed. Without being able to extend my hand to you, the words are my only resort."

Desrium turned his helm, and looked towards the outbound stables across the city, a spot hidden from him by the unfinished wall, yet still within his sight above sight. "They are waiting. And Shiryaz is waiting. Perhaps when you come this way again, you will see the memorial erected in his honor."

[The Kingpin]

"Thank you, on his behalf. I suppose it is best for us both if I do not tarry any longer. Farewell, my friend. I look forward to the next time we cross paths."

And with that, he stepped onto a buttress, one of a lower tier of them, walking down its length to a satisfactory distance, until he was out of the way from the main crowds, and jumped.

The landing was a fluid motion, the Knight rolling with the impact and halting in a kneel, rising to his feet as he looked around at the few bystanders startled by his sudden appearance. Golden eyes turned a more muted shade of hazel once more, as he pulled his hood up and began to depart the scene.

[C S]

As per the norm, Desrium's time to idle in watchful wait was over at that moment as well.

He landed in the clearing of people Andruil had prepared for him, his red robe rippling about his metal body, summoned during the descent. Extended from his back were the umbral wings, which had not only helped him glide out from the cathedral, but also slowed his fall considerably. A shadow of the Justicar.

A strong gust blew out from below Desrium's metal boots when the wings stroked once, powerfully. Desrium halted in the air, inches from the ground, and then lightly touched down onto the street, to the further bewilderment of the crowd. And then he walked on in the other direction relative to Andruil, the dark wings fading from sight in short order.

[The Kingpin]

It was thanks to the startled murmurs of the crowd that Andruil glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the descending Paladin. He has wings. Curious, he noted interestedly, before looking back towards his heading, leaving Desrium to carry on behind him. Making his way across to Shiryaz, he collected the Griffinhawk, then proceeded towards where Pyranex would be waiting. There was one last step before he could meet his friends.

[C S]

Several blocks away, Brodudika's premier courier operated without a clue of what had transpired. Unintentionally so, she rebutted the sights of shock and awe with those of her own. Dahnae sprinted across a rooftop lined with draconic gargoyles, the wingless serpents coiled around stone protrusions and small columns. She cleared the roof and carried on over the tops of one of these stone guardians, her feet landing squarely in the middle of each subsequent loop of stone and avoiding the small detailed spines that spiraled down the middle of the statue.

When she reached the head, Dahnae did a handstand, her fingers finding their way into the gargoyle's mouth, grasping onto the teeth embossed out of the stone inside. With a grip on both the top and lower jaws, Dahnae swiveled the rest of her body outwards, leaving herself hanging from the serpent far above ground level.

A detail that Dahnae did not care for as she began to swing herself back and forth, building up momentum until she could send herself back towards the building wall. When the jungle girl let go of the statue's head, she was flung into the side of the building feet first. For a short time, it was as though gravity's pull had been offset perpendicular to the actual ground, and Dahnae was falling to the building instead. She dropped into a stance that could have been described as a kneel...

... and promptly arched her back, looking like she was being peeled off of the side of the tower by the natural way of the world reasserting its rules.

Dahnae fell several feet, all according to the plan she had laid out in her head. At a certain point in her freefall she knew to reach out an arm. When her mitten made contact with the damp surface of gray stone, wet from the recent rainstorm, that minuscule friction added another rotation to the rest of her body, and Dahnae flexed and maneuvered her joints to make the most of it without breaking any bones. In another defiance of gravity, Dahnae rolled down the height of the tower in a somersaulting motion, changing where her hands and feet touched the stone so as to avoid eroded brickwork and windowsills.

Though it lasted less than a second for a room keeper tending to the blinds of a noble's private quarter, witnessing the girl's acrobatics past the window left the cleaner in a state of stunned disbelief, frozen in time. A speeding shade that intuition assumed was on a speedy road to doom. However, several feet below them, Dahnae had slowed herself by grabbing onto and tucking into the small alcoves of windows on the lower floors. Afterwards, she was where she wanted to be in terms of elevation over the crowds.

Dahnae's impeccable balance had her standing on a metal pole, upon which the purple banner of Brodudika hung. She walked along it, one foot directly in front of the next while her arms were held out to the sides, with casual musings on how the city had adopted the elemental Changeling. Her people didn't make flags and drapes with designs harkening back to that ancient being.

Her people had whole swaths of land dedicated to her, constructs of brick, wood, vine and obsidian, painted with the murals that told of all the great feats. What business did Brodudika have with the Mediator of Metadon? It didn't really matter much right now to Dahnae. She stepped off of the edge of the support pole and dropped onto the top of a wagon passing underneath. The road was utterly packed with these carts, big, small and average. Some were moving up the block, some were moving down the block, and the two denominations created "lanes" of traffic that somehow made things more orderly in the chaotic street.

Which was a serendipitous situation for Dahnae, who walked across the tops of the wagons to cross the street without a care for the distress and indignation of the drivers. Dahnae reached the other side of the road, jumped off of the wagon, and proceeded to climb up the side of the building she was supposed to make her delivery to. She matched her address with experienced ease and tapped away at the window.

"Lemme in, I have letter," she repeated until someone answered the repetitive and noisy summons.

With the window opened, Dahnae pulled herself up to sit on the ledge. She then went through her pouch of letters, sifting through the last of the day's work to retrieve the one of the moment, before handing it over to the attendant.

"Why don't you ever just drop these things off at the front door? We have message-keepers and receptionists for this express purpose," inquired the attendant.

Dahnae closed her bag and gave the attendant one last harsh look over her shoulder. "I don't get paid to use the front door," she said flatly. Preempting the attendant asking "What?", she leaned out of the window and began the climb back down, so that she could make the most out of her wagon-bridge.