Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

Morialus made a thoughtful noise, placing his hands behind his head.

"I'd say the freedom of an entire continent is worth the price of one artifact, no matter how unique."

Inclining his head toward the weapon the armored being currently wielded, he added, "It's pretty obvious that that is no ordinary sword. The attack I hit it with earlier has claimed more weapons then I can count, many of them heavily enchanted. Furthermore, no weapon has survived that last one." He paused. "Well, almost no weapon."

"How exactly did you come across a sword imbued with the Traitor's power? Last I checked, he wasn't the type to forge mortal weapons, even before he was a crackpot."

[C S]

"And it was not his intention, after his fall." Desrium lowered the sword and his gaze, holding it lengthwise in front of his chest, his free hand propping up the blade itself. "The sword it used to be was my only possession for much of my life. Eredar stole it, and used it in a creation of conquest that I defeated with the Lance. I had thought it destroyed afterwards, dissolved into nothing by divine power, yet here it is, restored, redeemed and empowered far greater than it ever was," said the steaming armored being. As he spoke, small fires licked at the dirt around him, short-lived consequences of being superheated.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"At interesting weapon for a former Justicar to possess," Morialus mused. "Ironic even. Even more so when you consider your role in Eredar's eventual defeat."

[C S]

"A return to form, if you will," Desrium agreed. He then followed up with a question of his own. "What of you, false-demon? What is your story?"

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

Morialus laughed. The sound was again genuine, as well as almost disturbingly pleasant and nonchalant.

"Waaaay too long to tell. The gist is basically: I was a Justicar too," the man explained. He turned his head at his own words, pausing. "Well, kind've."

[C S]

Desrium lowered his sword to his side and tilted his head. "A Justicar that did not wield the Lance, or a Justicar that did not become one with it?" he inquired.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"Eeeeeh both, really," Morialus replied awkwardly, seemingly deciding what to say on the spot.

"He is not one for preparedness."

A new voice was added to the mix, but it was not an unfamiliar one - Grama, with Hex perched on her shoulder, emerged from one side of the clearing.

"You would think you would have thought through your explanations ahead of time, given the situation you knew you'd be in," added Hex with his usual gruff criticism.

Morialus shrugged. "There wasn't a guarantee he would survive, so it was kinda fifty-fifty whether or not I needed to explain at all."

[C S]

Desrium absorbed this exchange and then nodded his his helm, shedding wisps of steam. "In this case, a good place to start would be with a name," he stated.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"Morialus," the man introduced himself with an exaggerated bow.

As the two new arrivals made their way over, the girl's gaze lingered on Desrium for several moments.

"Your pendant," Grama stated, moving a hand to her own chest, to the spot where it had hang on the armored being.

It was gone.

[C S]

"It is safe," Desrium replied. He raised his free gauntlet and gauged how quickly he was cooling off. The armor was beginning to grow dull as it shed its thermal energy, but a dim orange glimmer remained. Desrium needed a little while more before he could retrieve his medallion. To Morialus, he broached, "Named after lady Moria, yes?"

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"A little the opposite," Morialus replied.

"Exactly the opposite," Hex clarified.

"The Dawnmother had many names, depending on who you asked. It's kinda the nature of mortals to do that," the man retorted with another shrug. "I just inspired the standard-issue one, I guess. No big deal."

[C S]

"... How?" was the armored being's next inquiry.

Desrium's reaction was disproportionate to the drastic upheaval he felt internally, which could have been described as some form of shock. Many things had happened to shift his impressions of the Dawnmother. A great number of those things went against the feelings of joy she had inspired in him. By knowing where her namesake was derived from, it further faded the loftiness of the goddess Desrium had fallen for. It lessened her identity as that goddess, and made her seem more like the incomprehensible power that she truly was, formless and infinite. Wholly beyond him from the start, no matter how strong a bond Desrium believed they shared.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"For one, I kicked a lot of *** back in my day," Morialus replied. The man clenched a fist to punctuate this point.

"Two..." he continued, reluctantly tapping the hilt of his blade with the back side of his hand.

[C S]

Desrium hummed in understanding, pushing his invisible reeling aside. Inarius had spoken to him on the subject, and he could not relapse into flawed emotion and skewed thinking. It would be a disservice to the memory of the previous Justicar. Desrium exercised his mind in thinking about the sword of Morialus, a weapon longer than he was tall, and no doubt as ancient as the one carrying it. There was a chance it was even older.

"It is... was... customary for Justicars to seal the evils they bested away. Was this how you proved yourself, and inspired others to name the Dawnmother after your likeness?"

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"This is a story even we haven't heard," Hex muttered, though the little dragon was no doubt curious. His own familiarity with the Order of the Justicars and the name of their patron deity had prompted Morialus to explain at least bits and pieces of his background, but the man had refused to elaborate on the purpose of his sword, or the feeling he gave off.

"I wish it were a story that inspiring," the man replied to Desrium with another laugh. "A long, long time ago, something really nasty existed on Tyrbenetus. In order to 'even the odds', that nastiness was contained within a sword. That sword was given to the one deemed strong enough - and stupid enough - to wrestle with its consciousness. Far away from Tyrbenetus. Forever."

"And the twist?" Morialus continued, shifting forward, his voice full of mock anticipation. "That idiot was me!"

[C S]

"The ages were not kind." It was a statement of fact as much as it was an observation on Desrium's part. "Are you, then, the oldest surviving member of the Justicar Order? And by extension, the very first Justicar?"

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"By some definition, yes," Morialus replied simply. "The Lance was created in tandem with this sword. I never wielded it, but it became a keepsake of Tyrbenetus' heroes. The Order formed naturally from that, as did the title of Justicar."

[C S]

That prompted Desrium to take a few steps backwards, mindful of Hex and Grama. After he took these paces, Desrium lowered himself onto one knee. Desrium may have been the last of the Justicar champions, but Morialus was the first, and still-serving, champion. One who preceded the name Moria itself.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"Oi, oi," Morialus commented, his unseen gaze returning to Desrium. "Don't start acting all weird on me. The lance, the name, the whole Justicar business...that was consolation for what I had to do. I might've kicked a lot of *** back in the day, but I was no leader. I was just a shmuck with a hero complex."

The man looked away.

"They did all those things to try and soften the blow. 'Sorry you have to deal with this forever, and you aren't allowed to die, and you can never come back here, buuut we named a bunch of stuff after you!' You know, that kinda crap."

"For the champion of his people, you don't sound very sympathetic," Hex commented unapologetically.

"I did what I did knowing it was a bad deal, because I knew no one else wanted it," Morialus clarified, turning to the dragon in question. "But I'm not going to sugarcoat things. I'm way too old for that."

The man turned back to Desrium, his demeanor changing.

"The real gift? That one I hit you with at the end. Taught to me by the Dawnmother herself!"

[C S]

"I kneel not for respect of your title alone, though you have my reverence for that, as well. I kneel for the burden you have undertaken, and the strength you possess," Desrium countered without rising. Not immediately. With his praises given to his technical-superior, a savior in his own right, Desrium proceeded to ask as he stood up: "Why did you come all this way to face me?"