Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

"No need to look so worried," Septimus assured the mage, the furrowed brow and frown that were his thoughtful expression softening into something more amicable, not wanting to upset her peace. "It's nothing so unpleasant. I was just wondering about something."

[C S]

"Oh." Relief came swiftly to Syria, along with the realization of the mess she'd made on her Wirshah. She retrieved a nearby napkin to dust herself off, and then passed it over her lips for good measure in as daintily a fashion as she could manage. Ditzy nature played off as a lady's elegance.

[The Kingpin]

"See, when the idea of bending the truth to such a degree came up, you seemed very bothered by it. And yet, we have used that very same tactic in the past, and that time, you were advocating it," explained the Scholar, taking a bite out of his pastry, licking the excess of the fruity syrup off his lips. "I suppose I'm just pondering the moral implications of it all, in your eyes. In the end, is the result not the same?"

[C S]

"Hmm." Syria had to admit to herself that Septimus had a point here -- it did seem awfully hypocritical of her to decry lying the other day, when she'd done it before in other, smaller degrees, even disregarding the effort against Morrelie. Septimus still had to get her back for her feint during Ceridwen's personality polarization. Syria hummed thoughtfully a few times, analyzing her rationalizations, and arranging her words. She tapped her chin and looked off into the sky, growing distant.

Eventually, Syria felt that she could make an informed statement on the matter. "The result is the same superficially. However, there is a certain bias to accommodate, as well. Lying to a friend to protect another friend is... difficult, to say the least. Sheemaka was so kind, and it was the first time I'd met him personally. It felt so... backhanded, to be treated as a guest, and then to turn around and do what had to be done. But we both know very well that Desrium doesn't need to put up with even more grief, for things done before he was even a tangible thing in our world. In that, we had to juggle our biases."

She trailed off and folded her hands. "There isn't any such bias present when I think about... her. She isn't a friend of mine. She isn't a friend of anyone's, really. If a few false-words can keep her from harming others, then I will gladly speak them. But even then... she doesn't deserve to be made a scapegoat. Nobody deserves that. As terrible as her deeds are, she should be judged for them and not the few things she actually didn't do."

Syria blinked her eyes a handful of times before lowering her gaze back to Septimus. "I guess you can chalk this up to being one of those peculiarities pertaining to how the human mind works, huh?"

[The Kingpin]

"Hmm."

The Scholar took another bite out of his pastry, setting it down on the plate as he leaned forward and settled his elbows on the table. "Perhaps," he mused. "The way I see it, the only reason we lied was that Sheemaka would be held accountable for it if he were told the truth and deemed it best not to be shared with the public."

He decided not to include the fact that it was also why he chose to be the one to deliver the word to the sovereign. In so doing, he had guaranteed that, if by some inconceivably small chance it was ever discovered to be a lie, he would be the only one responsible. Sheemaka would be free of blame, as would Syria and anyone else involved.

[C S]

"All they ever wanted was to make Aster a better place, and make sure what they knew contributed to that end," said Syria with a lukewarm cadence. That was followed by a snort, and chortle. "I am beside myself, really. We have made our jokes about me being a queen in the past, but with the dealings of covert knights and rangers, these affairs of convenient ignorance are quite frequent in the courts of rulers, aren't they?"

[The Kingpin]

"Many don't know because they are better off not knowing. Not all knowledge is a blessing. Some of it is a curse. Balance in all things, after all," stated the Scholar, thoughtful.

Another click of Beshayir's tongue and a frustrated groan punctuated the fact that something wasn't working out. The Scholar looked over in her direction, and saw that she had finished her pastry, and was now hastily trying to blur out a spot where the grooves of the wood of the table had given varied resistance to her coal stick. She looked away from the picture for a moment, irritated that her attempted sketch was being ruined by the weather-worn table. Her eyes widened in realisation as an idea occurred to her. Looking to her right, she reached for and flipped her square wooden plate over, rubbing her hand across it experimentally. Perfectly smooth. This'll work! she thought, pleased with herself. Setting the coal stick aside, she lifted her sketch, sliding the upturned, empty plate under it, before setting the sketch down once more. It was an action that didn't escape the Scholar's attention.

"It is not wise to see the world in black and white," he began, fixing his gaze back on the mage. "There is more to it than that. More to everything than that. A regrettable action does not make one a bad person simply due to that action. It is what you perceive that action to be that defines you. Your perception of something as regrettable, in itself, is a sign that you acknowledge that it is wrong, and that you feel guilt for the fact that it must be done. That is the difference between a good person, and a bad person. You feel guilt. You do not need to feel as though you are a terrible person for that action, so long as you are aware that it is wrong. Necessary, but wrong."

[C S]

"Necessary but wrong," Syria repeated. That was an unsettling notion. A few bad calls were all it took for one with the best intentions to go down a drastically different path. Syria said, "Before the sun rose this day, it never occurred to me that guilt could be the key to holding onto one's innocence. It doesn't take the sting away, but it is a comfort. Guilty grays." The mage chuckled and bit her lip. "You know, like mother's blues."

She picked up her pastry and took a small bite out of it. "A stimulating breakfast conversation, like always, dear."

[The Kingpin]

"I'm glad I could provide it," he stated with a smile, picking up and eating the last of his pastry in response. He was satisfied with this outcome. It translated his intention and perception well, and she understood how he thought just a bit more.

"You know," he added, deciding to change subjects, "seeing as we won't be able to keep that promise to get Vix and the others gifts from Drakhunmiir, we should probably start discussing alternatives. It would be rude of us to cross paths with them again and have nothing truly special to show for it."

[C S]

"Ah, right you are," Syria conceded before taking a few rapid bites out of her breakfast, keenly aware that out of all them there, she was the slowest eater. After swallowing, she added, "Making up for promises that couldn't be kept seems to be a right-good way to start making amends with the conscience. Maybe we'll come across seashells and more bizarre transformations that further render your weakness to staves inert."

[The Kingpin]

"I had a feeling that would bother you," said the Scholar, chuckling lowly. "We should also find time in our schedule to visit Desrium. I think he would want to know about what we learned of his, or rather, Liorick and Aderalia's past."

[C S]

"Agreed. Brodudika is a place of culture as much as it is a place of... problems... and pointy bits. We may be able to liberate a traveling artist of supplies for Beshayir, here." Syria took that moment to pick up her plate and lean over the young elf's shoulder as though to steal a peek of her magnum opus, finishing her pastry with one more bite.

[The Kingpin]

"Buruq?"

"Yes Nakhriin?"

Cyndeyrn was silent for several minutes after that, unsure how to put what was on his mind into words. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Then opened it again, before thinking better of what he was going to say. This continued for some time, before finally, he settled on something.

"I worry about my standing among my kin. Before my clan, before my family...I feel I have done much to harm myself in an effort to protect them."

"Aaah, so now you see it. Yes, yes, very good," responded the Ambassador with a smile.

"Excuse me?" asked Cyndeyrn, feeling offended.

"Oh, do not take it the wrong way. I mean no malice in it. But your observation is telling that you are now experiencing something you once criticised. You are beginning to understand. It is regrettable that you are in this circumstance, yes, but it is also a good thing," continued Buruq.

"How exactly is it a good thing? My own daughter thinks me a monster, my rank is to be stripped, my mate is at the mercy of Arashi, and you're trying to tell me that it's a good thing?!" The former Lord of Maelgwyn was trembling, even as Buruq raised a clawed hand, gesturing for the angry drake to be calm.

"Absolutely! Not the circumstances, but what you are seeing. Let me draw your attention to something. Your actions are intended to protect your loved ones, yes?" asked Buruq.

Cyndeyrn said nothing, instead nodding slowly as he fixed the older drake with a glare.

"Excellent. Your fear is that your attempts to pursue what is good for your family is alienating you from them, making you out to be the villain in this circumstance, correct?"

Again, Cyndeyrn nodded.

"Splendid. Now, here's the final consideration. What has Arashi said countless times throughout the time he was trying to win back yours and the rest of Drakhunmiir's trust?"

That got the alabaster drake to pause. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he realised what Cyndeyrn was implying. "No..."

"Yes. You are seeing the world through his eyes. You do not feel the guilt he does, for his experience is so much harsher and crueller, BUT! You are beginning to understand his struggle. Now tell me...Would you not do whatever is necessary to ensure that your family are safe and well?"

"It's not the same thing."

Buruq shook his head, dismissing the retort. "Whether it is nor not is another matter. The fact is, both of you are doing what you must for your family. Your distrust of him is unnecessary, because he is doing all he can to prove that he is trustworthy, even after losing that trust doing what was at the time completely justified. Just as you will to win back Elwen's trust once she is of sufficient focus to address the matter. Because she definitely is aware of what transpired, and of your hand in it now." Cyndeyrn's expression sunk with fear as he realised what that would mean for him.

[C S]

The raspy breathing of the battleworn Shaman occupied the ensuing silence between Buruq and Cyndeyrn. While he walked the planes of spirits, the others had but his last token of wisdom.

Be wary of your minds and hearts. Though Elwen is not seeing with her true eyes, and not hearing with her true ears, by the virtue of being alive, she feels truly. The plane of dreams is a sensitive place to visit, because it is an interpretation of reality, not a reflection of it, and is fed by the aspects of the mind outside of our control.

As the disgraced lord transitioned through the gamut of anger and then fear, Elwen observed in the deepest depths of her being. So it was, that anger and fear pursued Arashi and Tanwen, an unwilling weapon to enforce the absolute rule over her mind.

The dragons hustled along their confined, smoke-choked route, made to bend to its habits. The turns were always abrupt, sharply directed off to the left or the right, and the dragons could only guess when the next one would appear through the oppressive screen of obsidian mist. Each time they came to a corner in the cramped tunnel, they had to slow down and wind their bodies through the cumbersome and unreasonable space, which was notably taxing on Tanwen. Unlike Arashi, her affinity for more bodily strength meant she was the one with the greatest bulk. She'd nearly pressed Arashi into the wall a few times before, which led to her taking the lead at these turns and Arashi catching up to her after she worked her way into the next straight.

The obnoxiously methodical rhythm imposed the need for a level head against the growing noise of squelching behind him, which only seemed to grow louder the longer their progress was impeded by the layout of the maze. It did not help that the path did not lead to the glowing shape of Elwen off in the ethereal distance. It quickly became apparent that the turns doubled back on themselves, forcing the elder's rescuers away from their destination, and holding them hostage to peril. Before either one of them could comment on this fact, a new sensation reached them. Heat.

Now, that wouldn't have been a problem for dragons, but this was no ordinary heat. It was permeating through the ground upon which Arashi and Tanwen walked, and soon after they realized that, it started radiating from the walls and ceiling. The pairs avatars soon found it difficult to breathe inside the sweltering convection, the oven they were trapped in.

Yet the wraiths kept crawling along, wetly sopping towards them at their constant, hunting pace.

[The Kingpin]

The Stormweaver glanced around at their surroundings, noting the escalating heat. Eyes shimmering like beacons, he reached for the mind at the heart of the labyrinth. He could not do enough from where he stood to dispel the curse, but he was able to reach the source of this sensation. Fear, and anger. They were perceived by the dragoness from the outside.

From there, it wasn't difficult for the Stormweaver to figure out a solution.

"Peace, Buruq. What transpires between you and the others impacts what Tanwen and I see here."

It was a brief reminder that served to cut Buruq's considerations of continuing his conversation with Cyndeyrn short.

Within the mind of the Fallen Artificer, Arashi sought to try and bring forth some of Elwen's oldest memories of her family, of a loving family, of a cheerful Cyndeyrn and a playful Tanwen; memories that were bolstered with the aid of Tanwen herself, even as they navigated the blistering maze.

Elwen's aura was stronger now. They were closer than they had been, even though the curving, bending and angular labyrinth seemed to push and pull them in different directions. It felt as though, much like the mind, this labyrinth wasn't square, but circular. It served to disorientate, making trying to keep track of direction and position difficult for those who did not know their destination.

Thankfully, one thing the curse couldn't account for was the fact that the two intruders could physically see their destination.


The heat of the maze was growing more and more relentless, the Stormweaver quickly seeing that psychomancy alone would not reach the Onokruun dragoness.

"Tanwen, speak to her."

The dragoness's expression couldn't be seen with her behind him as she was, and he couldn't afford to look away from the path ahead. In spite of it, her confusion was great enough that it was audible. "What? How? What should I even say?"

"What we're feeling now is an echo of fear and anger. As far as I can tell, it is not her own, but it is having an effect on her. You need to calm her down," explained the Stormweaver.

"Alright, fine, but how?"

"I will allow you to speak to her. Do what you can. Anything to calm her."

Tanwen didn't have time to question it before a wave of sensation washed over her as she was linked to the mind of her mother directly.

And she did the only thing she knew would give her mother peace. She sang.

It was no Unguul dragonsong, nothing so melodious or comforting as that, but it was a haunting tune, a low, crooning one that once served as a lullaby for Tanwen herself. It was something her mother had once told her was as much to put her hyperactive daughter to sleep as it was to soothe herself after the hardships of the day, dealing with her family, her mentor, and her rivals.

[C S]

Continuing onwards, and doing so while keeping the melody, was a test of endurance in ways that would make fully grown dragons balk. Not only was their patron element being turned against them, it also had a tiring effect. They were being stifled by the heat as much as it was lulling them to a slumbering surrender. A twisted application of Tanwen's song. She had no choice but to keep on singing, even as her neck strained to keep her head up, and her legs struggled to keep her body off of the ground. Arashi too, felt the weight of the curse upon his avatar.

Before he was the Stormweaver, he was a Justicar. And for that alone, perhaps, he kept pushing ahead as the odds walled them in. The enforcers of this damnable realm mocked the dragoness with wails and groans as they drew nearer to the two dragons, their presences felt creeping along their spines.

[The Kingpin]

Just as the heat pressing in on them was an unnatural heat, the ice walls the Stormweaver brought forth were unnatural ice, a hundred feet of dense, adhesive, clay-like material that had been intended to be ice, sealing off the path behind the two dragons.

It was not something that could have driven away the exhausting effect of the heat, the heaviness of Tanwen's head exacerbated by the song. It had always put her to sleep, just as it had her mother. Just as it had Septimus, and, when he wasn't frantically thinking of solutions to one problem or another, Arashi too.

It probably wasn't the best idea to use this to try and keep the heat at bay. So the dragoness chose another method. Something she knew brought joy to the old dragoness.

"Do you remember, mother, the nights on the peaks?" she asked. "I was a whelp then, bouncing and impatient. You took me up to one of the highest peaks outside of the valley... We laid in the snow, on our backs, and looked up at the stars. You told me that they were ever watchful. That they were brothers and sisters of the sun, and gave the mana wells life, which in turn was given to us," she continued. Even with the hardship of her current task, Tanwen couldn't help a laugh, nervous as it ended up sounding. "I got hung up on the 'ever watchful' part and couldn't sleep for a week because I was afraid I was being stared at by them."

That seemed to have an effect. A pull, a shift in their sensations.

[C S]

That shift became a full sway and tilt. The smokescreen of black clouds rushed around the two dragons, and it was pulled into a series of whirlpools that appeared in the patterns of the swirling motion. Their weight was thrown off kilter, first feeling as though they were on a sheer slope about to careen down into the unknown headlong, then the opposite, and then gravity's pull tugged them from side to side before it settled again, the familiar downwards attraction.

Dragons were not supposed to know what it was like to go down a waterfall in a barrel.

Nor were they to know of a sky that was underneath them while their wings were closed. Yet, that was exactly what Arashi and Tanwen saw before them at the edge of their path. The tunnel that herded them along was utterly broken, as though an axe had been dropped straight through the passageway. What the breach led to was an abyss decorated by points of light that the wyrms could ascribe constellations, if they were of the mind. Out over this chasm of void, stalactites descended through a layer of clouds: the roof of this plane; benign white clouds with patches of gray, and full of snow that fell upwards to a place outside of this bizarre arena.

At least Arashi and Tanwen were able to breathe easily again, and their relentless pursuers were made silent and still behind the wall of ice. But the way ahead was too crowded to fly through, and the tapestry of night was too inviting to be anything other than a vanguard of doom. That left but one way forward.

[The Kingpin]

Arashi stared at the abyss before him, blinking for a moment, surprised by how literally the curse interpreted that memory. "This would be a dwarf's worst nightmare."

"What?" asked Tanwen, still a bit thrown off by what had just transpired. She took a moment to recover before she looked over his shoulder, eyes widening. "By the...I hadn't expected a memory to do...this," she murmured.

"The mind is a strange place. A mind gripped by a curse meant to trap it is an even stranger place. I wouldn't trust that sky to be sky. Flying would not be wise here."

"We don't need to fly," responded Tanwen as she eyed the massive stalactites hanging from the 'ceiling'.

"My thoughts exactly. Come on," responded Arashi aas he braced himself, before leaping across the gap to one of the nearest spikes that looked big and sturdy enough to hold his weight. His wing talons dug into the ice, jagged gouges left in their wake as he immediately plotted a course across them, in the direction of Elwen's aura.

Tanwen was more hesitant to pursue. Being the stronger of the two, she was also bulkier, and had to be more selective of which stalactites to leap for.

Eventually though, she found a few, and chose her course, taking a leap, and colliding with a spike of ice with a click.

A click?

It took the dragoness by surprise. She noted her claws hadn't really cut into the ice either, but that she was stable simply through contact with the stalactite. Like she was far lighter than she should have been.

Like she was the size of a bat.

[C S]

One look at the abyss below only amplified the dissonance of scale. The stretch of starscape appeared to have grown exponentially in the time it took Tanwen to choose her route through the forest of rock. Now, that darkness was a hemisphere that led into nothingness below them. That was the only explanation for this contraction of space.

Unless, of course, the field of jagged rock had shrunk, along with the dragons that climbed them.

An ever-widening gulf between them and Elwen, the distance growing impossibly vast.