Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

"I have kept all that we found there with me for further study, if you would like to peruse," offered Septimus as he continued fleshing out the details of their aquatic venture. "I wish to understand more of how Liorick came to this idea, and the details of some of the magical arts he employed that are lost. Perhaps, with luck, my father will be able to help me fill in the gaps." From there, he paused for a moment, extracting Liorick's journal from his satchel and presented it, open, for Desrium to look at, though the Hueilin chose not to let the book be physically handled by the armoured being, wary of the artefact's fragility. Focusing back on the subject of the story, he continued, "Liorick had said the world needed an angel in the dark times that it faced. You were to be that angel, to bring peace and justice to a world that lacked both. It seemed he drew inspiration from deities and those faithful to them."

[C S]

"He wanted a shepherd for Aster's races," Desrium asserted, fixing his burning red stare squarely on the aged book. The armored being was taken unawares by Septimus uncovering the mage's personal writings. It was the key to cutting through the barrier of his work. The pages within his journal were an imprint of the man as he was, as he thought. His ambition, and the goal he wished to fulfill. Something that should have been left at the bottom of the sea in another contrived reality, Desrium felt. It was disturbing that Liorick's work was in such close proximity to the forbidden gospels that led to the existence of Chromatus. A catalyst for cataclysm. And what did the Stormweaver know that could bridge the faults in Septimus' knowledge of his creation, Desrium was forced to wonder.

How close was the world to seeing the same mistakes repeated?

Syria frowned. Her friend's distress was locked away from her underneath unchanging metal, but the way he was so quick to discount his creator's intentions was telling. He was not pleased to hear any of this...

"A shepherd?" she inquired, sitting up. "He wanted to stop lives from being lost, Desrium. And to prevent future wars..."

"Liorick witnessed a dragon in armor defeat an archdemon and thought him a saint as a result," the Paladin began to explain to Syria, though he did not take his eyes off of the journal. "That dragon spoke of another shore in peril, and set an example for what would become his own order dedicated to preventing the end times. That was not enough for Liorick. It was this fixation on holiness that proved to be his downfall. Liorick was desperate for a miracle, and used his 'saint' as justification to dissect records of deities, myths, and practiced faiths, seeking evidence shared by them all to form his personal truth. He wanted to validate his belief that a higher power would prevail over evil, and the turmoil of his time would come to an end. Liorick had no understanding of the Eight, but that did not matter to him as long as he had an analogue of them to believe in. The angel Liorick attempted to create for this idealized god would have been nothing more than a shepherd of people, a vessel to impose his beliefs of righteousness on others."

Syria was quiet for a time. It occurred to her then that Desrium had been aware of Liorick's intent since the earliest of his days. The problem with pinpointing what Desrium truly was boiled down to how he saw himself. And after regaining his memories, Desrium had internalized a strong distaste for his creator's vision. In his mind, he was no angel, and he was not the demon that others had believed him to be. He just... was. Flawed, as the Life Bringer had once said.

Eventually, Desrium angled his helm backwards to look into the sky. "To this day, I bear no inherent connection to the divine. I was merely chosen by a god, through no relation to what Liorick desired. In the way of the Eight, no matter how great my capabilities are or what title I am bestowed with, it is not my place to govern the lives of others. My responsibility is to defend the innocent from enemies they cannot defeat by their own means, by empowering them or opposing these foes directly."

Syria bowed her head sympathetically. The subject was obviously a sensitive one for Desrium. Very little else could have him speak so much.

[The Kingpin]

Septimus initially shrunk back somewhat at the Paladin's strong reaction to what he had been told and shown, having not expected such a negative response. However, after a few moments, he regained his composure. "Perhaps," responded the Scholar, reading his spiritual brother's reaction closely. "Perhaps you have no connection to the divine, but you have proven time and again that at your core, you are a pure and kindly being. One of great power, at that. Liorick's intentions to shepherd the world according to a vision of good certainly was overstepping his own right, but it does not change the fact that that fundamental want for good in the world ended up becoming a core element of your nature." The Son of Storms straightened somewhat, recovering from his brother's outburst moments earlier. "And I think, with the power of your will, your personality, your character has imposed itself upon your destiny more than the reverse. You have carved your fate out with your own two hands, through circumstance and pure determination, not according to any path laid out for you by Liorick. I do not think that he has ever had that power over what you became, nor could he."

Ceridwen watched the exchange warily, keeping a bit of a distance. Such an outburst from a being that had given her a distinct feeling of discomfort since she'd first met him was something that alarmed her, even if she did not show it for Septimus's sake. She did, however, keep her distance, just in case Septimus's assertions worsened matters.

"It is important to remember the lens through which the world is viewed in times like these," he continued as the tome receded, closing and returning to its place in the satchel. "The world he saw was one that was essentially godless; one where man and elf slaughtered each other in the streets, shackled and enslaved each other with no regard for their well-being or their rights. It was a time where life was cheap, and many were willing to exploit it. For an essentially good-hearted person to live through this, to accept it as the unchangeable reality of his world, is difficult. For one such as this to one day witness an act awe-inspiring enough as to contemplate the nature of the divine, it becomes a fresh breath of air in a world that is choking him. I think it is important to remember that this was what Liorick experienced. I am not entirely sure how much of his world you remember, Desrium, if anything of his older memories were transmitted to you. But I am sure you can sympathise with this want for a light when the world seems darkest. After all, was it not a similar want that drove the Justicars onwards for so many aeons in the face of the crushing despair of the Eternal War?"

[C S]

"It is a noble cause. The greater good. The one, true, Eternal War." Desrium accepted this readily. "However, wars test the limits of those who fight it, and the temptation of a new weapon to skew the tides is one that many mortals have succumbed to. Liorick and Aderalia fell for this temptation envisioning a weapon with a will of its own, trusting it to be just. It matters not what they wished to bring about with its advent," he elaborated, "the means with which they sought their peace was... is... and forever will be... too great and too dangerous to rely on."

Desrium clenched his fists as his eyes rested upon Septimus. "Liorick's creation produced a consciousness that was alien to this world, prone to a moment of weakness which cascaded into a chain of ruin, and the wars came to their close without my intervention. For this, his work should be forgotten, along with his dreams for angels derived from mankind's yearning. Especially when he had saints to be found in dragons... saints and angels alike."

The armored being's words struck a cord with Syria, leaving her momentarily stunned.

[The Kingpin]

"Do not mistake my recognition of his intentions for acceptance of his methods. I already said that I agree that he overstepped his bounds, and that this was a dangerous and action that had serious consequences." An astute person would have noticed the dragon's tail flicking back and forth behind him, expression a measure of agitation with the current conversation.

"We have plenty of examples of why one cannot always trust matters to resolve themselves; of those who could not simply sit idly by and wait while the bodies mount on the way to resolution. They are the ones who feel it is their duty to take action. Every one of those present here at the moment can be counted as examples. The wish to bring about an end to hardship can lead to drastic measures sometimes, you know that." It was with a heavy sigh and some difficulty that he concluded, "And some of these measures fail... Like mine did."

[C S]

"You are no more responsible for Draxon's demise than I am for Brodudika's division of its peoples. The cause of both misfortunes is the same: a fundamental hostility ingrained in its people from young," said Desrium. He realized Septimus had a measure of guilt of his own to carry and come to terms with. It was why he did not want to dwell on the subject longer than strictly necessary. The comparison was not congruent however; stubborn and toxic politics was what undid the kingdom, whereas the fear Liorick had planted in his peers with his renegade experiment rested solely on him, and the tragedy of the Blood Omen rested on Desrium.

The Paladin wasn't to argue this. He simply wanted to move on, relieved that Septimus agreed that the old mage had gone too far in his efforts. Now, if that were true for Arashi as well, this was a question for another time.

[The Kingpin]

"It was an inevitable outcome, I understand that. If it wasn't my interference that brought this about, it would have been the combination of their forces being spread too thin, and the chaos spawn becoming stronger and bolder. And if they had survived that, the worsening circumstances under Malganis would have eventually lead to a revolt that tore the kingdom apart that way. It was only a matter of time," rumbled the Scholar, though it was clear from his tone that he wasn't entirely convinced. It was an elaboration that had Ceridwen staring at the Scholar with surprise, intrigue, and something else she couldn't quite describe. Sympathy, perhaps.

Sighing, the Scholar shook himself from the cycle of reflection and regret before he could be sucked into it further. "But that is a matter I'd rather not think about if I can avoid it. To other matters?"

[C S]

After such a rough discussion, Desrium opted to leave news of the hydra be for the time being. Brodudika's tenuous affairs would rob any pleasantries to be had from his time with his compatriots if he let them, so following up the dregs of his past with the ordeals of the present was not something he was eager to do. Chromatus and Melok were matters best talked about in Septimus' company alone, by any measure, along with the inquiries into the dealings of the Stormweaver, if Septimus knew of them.

Something more uplifting and pertinent to the moment was needed. In light of knowledge that needed to be forgotten, and ambitions turned to sin, there was only one thing worth doing, Desrium figured. Something he had been looking forward to. He lowered himself to take a seat on the naked earth, and told the Scholar, "I owe the Life Bringer a debt of gratitude. I doubt I could repay it, but I do want to express this to her."

"Ah, that sounds pleasant," Syria commented, more than happy for the reprieve. The joy was enough to make her overlook the fumbling that had been her last talk with the queen of the desert.

[The Kingpin]

A ponderous hum came from the Scholar at that, a paw reaching for his medallion absent-mindedly. "I think a conversation could be arranged," he growled, smiling. He was happy for the change of topic and wasted no time facilitating it. Within moments, a sphere of mana had formed in his upturned palm, coinciding with a glow of the dragon's eyes. It had Ceridwen mildly alarmed, wondering just what it was he was doing, but a soothing aura emanated from the Son of Storms that seemed to chase away her discomfort.

[C S]

Syria reached out to Ceridwen from her perch on Septimus' side, inviting the other dragon over for affectionate strokes and pats. She said to Desrium, "It's nice to be able to put something together for you for a change."

"The honey is nice," Desrium countered. He strove to make that barrel last.

"Something a little more involved than honey. But on the subject of edible treats, I have to wait until Qudum Hueiniir before I can make something for Septimus."

"Qudum Hueiniir?" Desrium asked, though he kept the possible subtext of Syria's words in a corner of his mind. The way she spoke, it was almost as though she were a doting wife.

[The Kingpin]

"A story for another time," quipped the Scholar just before reaching out to the subject of his and Desrium's thoughts.

Across mountains and rock-riddled plains he felt himself being pulled, his mind travelling at speeds even his wings couldn't attain. Sparse forests gave way to grasslands, which gave way to scorching dunes, before ultimately plunging below the surface to that familiar jewel encrusted chamber. There he felt, rather than saw, Cleotaire. While the Eye could do many things based on his own memories, it was not truly looking at the home of the Life Bringer, but instead, forming the image from those memories.

What was not a product of his memories was the feeling of Cleotaire's aura. Her presence. A presence that was made known through his projection for the others to experience.

"Greetings, Cleotaire."

[C S]

"I trust we are not interrupting some pivotal moment in a rising hero's journey to steer the course of fate?" Syria added.

Though she joked, it was something she was considerate of; in all the time the elemental was sequestered away beneath the sands, herself, Septimus and Desrium were her most frequent conversation partners. Their records beat the single meetings necessitated by times of trouble that the queen was expectant of. The whims of chance dictated that one day they would catch Cleotaire at an inopportune moment. Not anytime soon, given how unlikely these events lining up would be, but all the same...

[The Kingpin]

Ceridwen, for her part, remained silent. While she had met the Thunderbird twice, and been just outside this Life Bringer's home, they had never met. She felt uncomfortable addressing the ancient elemental in light of it. She did, however, find herself reflecting on what she'd learned and knew of this ancient, particularly the fact she used her powers to direct the path of the desert people from a distance, granting gifts to those she felt were worthy to lead. In light of the exchange that had happened moments earlier, she found Desrium's fondness of her ironic.

[C S]

"My audiences are few and far between, as you know," came the Life Bringer's voice from Septimus' conjuring. Syria recognized the response as a quote from the last time they had spoken. "I would... appreciate... you reaching out to me, regardless," Cleotaire went on to say, "I have not grown to this age without being able to multitask. As it stands, it is not needed."

Desrium tilted his helm to one side. It was a slight faltering that he noticed. Expressing tidings of friendship was not yet eloquently executed by the isolated elemental, but she could not be faulted for her efforts.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Cleotaire's phantasm queried.

[The Kingpin]

"Aside from your very pleasant company?" asked the Scholar amicably, proceeding on before an answer could be offered, "There is a very grateful Stalwart that wishes to speak with you. To say nothing of my own gratitude." With that, he passed on his own perception of the place, the sights, the sounds, and those present. For the others' part, they would have seen the manifestation of mana and light warp to take on a more familiar appearance, resembling, by the end, the Life Bringer as she had presented herself to them.

[C S]

"Ah," was Cleotaire's reply. It betrayed how unfamiliar she was with these basic notions of friendship. That, compounded with the means in which this situation had come about: the dragon and armored being contacting her through the use of an artifact she herself had helped to fabricate years upon years ago. Syria was impressed that Cleotaire was able to sound as unflappable as ever, despite having little to say. It would appear they had managed to blindside Cleotaire as they had done to Vixen.

"Your aid has seen me through extraordinary distress," Desrium said to the projection, returning to his usual understated mannerism now that his passion had been quelled. "You have my deepest thanks."

"They are unneeded." A pause truncated the elemental's thought. "... But they too, are appreciated," she concluded shortly after. "You are, after all, but a child of eight-hundred years."

[The Kingpin]

"You have helped us many times, Cleotaire. More than I'd dare ask of someone who has been around since the dawn of Leyuna," rumbled the Scholar. "I think Desrium speaks for everyone in expressing his gratitude. I can certainly say I share his sentiments."

Ceridwen tilted her head somewhat, curious at that. "Did I miss something?" she asked quietly, glancing at Syria for an answer.

[C S]

Syria scooted closer to the dragoness and leaned towards her to whisper, "The Life Bringer was the first super old and powerful elemental we met, before the thunderbird. It was through her that we learned what Leyuna was like back in time... immeasurable. And she helped us understand what was happening to the world after..." Syria searched for a delicate phrasing. Finding none, she sighed softly and continued, "After Desrium split a continent in two, all the way to the depths that disturbed primal forces of nature. Aside from that, you know how she helped Andruil and myself..."

"I do it all because I feel I must," said Cleotaire, making Syria wince. No matter how soft she made her voice, she was surrounded by company who would hear her as clearly as the sky currently was, the sun shining brightly with nary a cloud in sight!

Another quiet settled before the Life Bringer spoke again. "It is for this reason that I have made my home where it is." She spoke slowly, and though her lofty tone never faltered, the pacing of her thoughts was evident of her discomfort revealing herself as she was. "More than my kind's nature to slink away, and observe from afar... it is the knowledge that the realm of people cannot function if sheltered by beings who exist outside of it. Your gods knew this, and taught those of us who would listen the same. My actions are not held to the same impossible standards, though. I will offer my power... if it is earned. I will not foster complacency through my kindness, and oftentimes I must forego kindness in order for my trials to be effective."

"This drain of vigor is what those who feel themselves worthy bear in seeking my aid. They bear it willingly," Cleotaire said after another moment of reflection. "In their high regard for me, they often glaze over the reward for their pilgrimage to the sands. They call the silver waters a gift, but it was something they struggled for. They without a home, suffered and succeeded with the Abirus-Sahari, and earned their oasis so that they may grow evermore."

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar pondered that for a bit, smiling. "A pity Beshayir isn't here to hear this. I think she'd have liked to hear the story of Thimeyra from the perspective of the one that made its existence possible." The insight into the thoughts of the Life Bringer was yet another thing he was grateful for. The thought that a few of the ancient elementals had been taught by the divines themselves had his mind envisioning grand congregations, a primeval classroom of sorts, where guidance was delivered to the beings of fire, earth, air, water and their many varied forms, by the Eight.

Ceridwen spent a few minutes trying to absorb what she'd been told, her focus settling on something much more practical than the transcendent visions floating through the Scholar's imagination in that moment. "What do you feel you owe the mortals, that justifies this urge to reward them?" she asked after a while. "Have they ever done anything for you in return? Anything proportionate?"

[C S]

"I do not owe them a thing; just as we do not owe this world we live on anything for being born upon its face. Yet we seek its health and preservation. So too, I wish to end needless suffering. I could not stand by while people stumbled blindly underneath a harsh sun, and their children wasted away from thirst. This was the price they paid for their freedom and beliefs, and I gave them an end worthy of that cost," Cleotaire clarified for Ceridwen. "As the land became desert, I gave the creatures that could not adapt to the changing climate a sanctuary where they still live to this day, so that they would not face a slow and cruel demise. If they are to disappear despite my actions, so it must be. But I will not see them in agony when I have the capability to be their ward."

"And the myth that surrounds you?" Syria asked. "The riddle?"

"Not my doing," Cleotaire said.

Desrium noted that faiths were very rarely the intentions of the ones that were worshiped.

"Envoys from the Abirus-Sahari and what would become Thimeyra, through grit and risk of life, discovered where I kept myself distant from them. It was their suited reward that we formed a pact, so that their leaders-to-be may seek my abode. They chose their key, and I created the magic that became the lock."

The hewn carving of a hand, that only one of living flesh could turn.