Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

Ceridwen momentarily regarded the mage when she realised she was being watched, her head tilting questioningly as she made eye contact. Before she could inquire, however, the conversation continued.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so quick to think so. Several peoples in Aster have used cauterisation to close bleeding wounds. Granted, that is a relatively crude application of fire for healing purposes. I believe Orthelia may have a more... nuanced approach to it," was the Scholar's input on the matter.

Beshayir nodded. "She also said it could be used to invigorate a person. She said the mastery of pyromancy is the mastery of passion, and that there are a lot of applications for it. We'll be studying that soon."

[C S]

"Oh..." Syria replied. She kept her sights on Ceridwen for a little while longer as she reasoned away her bafflement. Ceridwen's magic took after cold and frost, cryomancy. Her healing skills were derived from another facet of knowledge, not a split control of flame. Right? Syria shook her head and looked to Septimus.

"Cauterization is the use of fire to destroy flesh for what is begrudgingly called a 'benefit'. Far from the use of mana to reconstruct flesh and blood," she countered.

[The Kingpin]

"True, but some scar tissue is better than bleeding out, wouldn't you agree?" asked the Scholar.

"Such sophisticated dinnertime conversation," jabbed Ceridwen with a smirk.

"I've shared a table with Thimeyran royalty and with veterans of a demonic war. You'd be surprised just how many topics overlap between the two," joked the Scholar, shutting down the dragoness's taunt handily before addressing the matter at hand once more. "And yes, I do agree it's definitely an entirely different world from medical pyromancy. But my point is that it isn't hard to believe the idea to experiment with such may have its roots in more primitive and questionable methods."

[C S]

Syria prodded at her plate with her spoon before nodding slowly to Septimus. "It seems to be the way that the mystically adverse get things done. Like Cleotaire said about inventing the wheel, or working steel... it takes that kind of wild reaching to... say... milk a cow and drink what comes out..." After exhaling heavily through her nostrils in a not-quite-a-snort, Syria conceded, "When that's your standard, any strange dabbling doesn't seem so strange."

[The Kingpin]

"Strange is such a relative concept," responded the Scholar. "Many considered the sight of a dragon cooking his food over a fire and enjoying a book to be strange. For me, it's normal. Some would consider a Thimeyran elf in Eastern and coastal Aster to be strange. And yet Beshayir is right here, in Brodudika, and many cultural dishes of the Thimeyrans are sold in shops in Valenhad."

"I do wish we could know what possessed that first human to drink of a cow's milk. He must've been a very ill man," commented the Dragoness.

"Or dwarf. Or elf," reminded the Scholar.

"That too."

[C S]

"And where on the timeline of odd behaviors does milk-drinking of livestock fall, one has to ask. After the advent of smashing rocks together around what would be known as 'tinder' I'm sure, though, before or after the practice of turning fermenting fruits into beverages? That is where I'm stumped..."

In this light, all of civilized history boiled down to one odd behavior after the other that simply became a running trend among people. Even the use of magic, Syria realized after a few more seconds of contemplation.

[The Kingpin]

"To make beverages out of fermented fruits, you would need a farm. Fire undoubtedly came first, and livestock would have been easier to control and tame than plants would be to grow, I imagine. You don't need to know what time of year to breed livestock for them to grow and feed you later. They handle that for you. You don't need to stay in one place, either," suggested the Scholar.

Though she didnt voice it, Ceridwen shifted slightly in place, uncomfortable with the nonchalant discussion of the subjugation and control of other creatures. She remembered all too well what was intended for her, some months ago.

[C S]

"You misunderstand," Syria blundered onwards, "I'm at a loss as to what the appeal of rotting fruit had to our -- our --" for she was referring to the ancient incarnations of every sapient race on Aster, and elsewhere in the world where the practice of brewery became mainstay, "-- ancestries. To consume them in any capacity, much less to turn them into drinks... which we stored in bottles... which came about because someone decided to burn sand..."

[The Kingpin]

"I remember," started Septimus around the last of a large helping of the roast they had chosen as the day's meal. "...reading a loose-leaf naturalist journal in Crestvale that some animals were found to gravitate to trees in a certain hotter region of Aster to eat the fermented fruit accumulating at their bases," he continued after swallowing, taking a sip of a drink afterwards. "And the only explanation the naturalists studying the matter could find for it was that the animals liked the drunken effect the fruit induced. Perhaps there's something to be said for our own acquisition of it from that?"

"Animals getting drunk?" asked Beshayir, somewhat surprised by the notion, giggling as one particularly humorous mental image occurred to her. "That sounds ridiculous."

[C S]

Syria shot Septimus an incredulous look that bordered on grim in its seriousness. "In the jungle, I saw all kinds of creatures clearing away fallen overripe and rotting fruits, but I never took them to be chasing after a drunkard's buzz," she said, sitting back in her corner of the tent and folding her arms. "... But that is saying nothing towards the tendency for imitation in the wild..." Drunk animals or no, it was well within the realm of possibility that an ancient sapient-to-be followed the example of its primal brethren and the rest was well and truly history.

"What a legacy to behold. Greater than the conquests of the greatest kings in fiction and archive."

[The Kingpin]

"A legacy I fear we will never truly get to witness. Even our time-sight has its limits."

It was a statement that brought with it a sobering aura over the group, not for the contemplation of limitations it would be prone to triggering, but for the fact it brought back to the fore the most pressing matter for the group.

"Beshayir?" asked the Son of Storms.

"Hm?" was the young elf's understandably surprised response, looking up from a toroid she was having as the continuation of her dessert.

"We would like your opinion on something."

[C S]

"Ah, right," the redhead all but choked out at the turn the conversation had taken. She hadn't fully recovered from her own somber when Septimus brought up the subject. It was something they had to get to sooner or later; Desrium was waiting on them, but even after dinner, the time seemed to have come upon them far too quickly.

Syria cleared her throat, then said, "Something urgent has come up, and Septimus and I need to go do some looking around for a little while. Nothing too serious, mind -- nothing like when we went looking for that bad woman, or anything like Zuppoland." She hoped. "We should be back relatively soon... but you'll need to buck up in the mean time for Ceridwen. Desrium's going to look out for the two of you while we're gone."

She was tempted to bow her head in a plea for forgiveness. She hoped this wouldn't weight too heavily on Beshayir as to effect her performance in class, just after she had gotten settled.

[The Kingpin]

"Oh," responded the elf a bit disappointedly. "I understand," she said with some measure of difficulty. "Duty calls, others need help. Balance in all things, right?" she asked with a small smile as she eyed the two.

"Right," answered the Scholar, proud of her strength despite the twinge of pain at the thought that she was acknowledging the Scholar's role as an equaliser as much as anything else. In some way he couldn't quite describe, he felt this would become a recurring trait in their relationship. "It'll be quick. I just need to find out what happened there. Then we'll come back," he explained.

"Yes. I understand. Do what you have to do... Ceridwen and I will be fine. We were fine last time, weren't we?" she asked, glancing towards a sheepish looking dragoness, who reluctantly nodded despite the fact she wasn't actually there for most of the last time they had been left behind.

[C S]

It was Beshayir's turn for hugs, and Syria rose to oblige the occasion. She gave the young elf the tightest squeeze she was capable of then stepped away to rest her hands on her shoulders. "Work on that stamina. Try not to come across any other runaway pets; they may not be as friendly to you as Perry was. But if you do come across a runaway pet, be sure to report it to the proper authorities so that they could help get it back home." With that said, Syria ruffled Beshayir's pale hair.

[The Kingpin]

The girl returned the gesture, squeezing the mage before tilting her head to look at her and the Scholar with a smug grin. "Next time you see me I'll be healing with pyromancy."

"That's the spirit. Push forward, but do so safely. We'll be back before you know it," responded the Son of Storms as he cleared up the last of his meal, empty plates and goblets already gathering themselves together to hasten their departure.

[C S]

"Keyword being safe, Beshi. I'm sure you've already been lectured from all possible angles on safety when learning how to conjure flame, but it's important that you don't rush things. When doctors of yore decided they would use needle and thread on skin as Willow would on fabric, they weren't keen on making silly mistakes because they didn't take their time." The corners of Syria's mouth curled into an easily missed smile. She had to curb the pride she felt for the young girl. Strength born through adversity and lonesome years. As bad as she felt earlier, Syria latched onto that bright fact that Beshayir wasn't alone in her absence.

"Oh, and before we leave, remember that rest is as important as your practice. Overdoing it is just as bad as being lazy; I don't think Ceridwen wants to practice her healing talents on you!"

[The Kingpin]

"I'm not nine, Syria. I know my limits," responded Beshayir half-jokingly. "I've already earned my scars. I've learned the price of recklessness with all the cuts, bruises and sprained ankles it came with. I'll be careful."

"Good girl. Now, Desrium is waiting at the gate. We might want to get a move on," stated the Scholar, his hands lighting up briefly in cleansing flames, burning away any food that clung to his fingers after the meal. He noted a bit of sadness in Beshayir's expression at the statement, and could practically feel the thought that accompanied it. So soon. In response, he reached a hand over, giving the elf a firm squeeze on the shoulder.

"I'm fine. Really. It's just... not something you really get used to," she insisted. Smiling, she fixed the Scholar with as firm a look as he'd ever seen on her as she said, "Be careful. Stay safe."

[C S]

Syria hummed quietly as she went to get her staff from where she had it propped up against Septimus' bags. It couldn't be helped that Beshayir would advise caution on this outing, against assurances that it wouldn't be risky. In being made wise for her age, she also had a dash of cynicism for good measure. Which may or may not be warranted, if things changed since Desrium was last at the Two Cities...

As the mage and Scholar made their moves to make their meeting, so too did the verger begin seeking her own.

Natalie looked up to the sky upon stepping out of the church and saw that there were tidings of showers approaching the city outside the eastern stretch of Brodudika's wall. Her hands went to the collar of her coat, pulling it tighter over her frame preemptively, and then she went to the stairs. With the other things begging for her attention being thoughts that disoriented and scared her, Natalie found it pleasantly empty to mull over the weather. Would it be cold enough to snow, or would this be another wintery rain? Dusk always came early in this valley, so it was a tossup between the two.

The orange atmosphere of late afternoon reflected off of store windows and the various metal railings that frequented the city locale, as it did on any other favorable sunset. Walking through the bright streets, with the other city denizens flitting in and out of her vision as sprites, Natalie wondered how much of the settling blue would make it before the clouds arrived. The sun's gleaming replaced by soft shades in the mountain twilight, which made the last rays that turned the peaks into uneven halos more pronounced in the sky. Coupled with the firelight of the streetlamps, Natalie found the blends of colors beautiful and soothing. If only everyone in the city could appreciate these hours as she did.

Natalie reasoned it wouldn't matter by this evening. Few could say they enjoyed being out in a cold rain. She had to consider those who watched over the night, and how her problems stacked up with theirs.

She just hoped by time the rain started falling, the weather would not match how she felt. She just had to hold it together a little longer, so she could find Evisa.

[The Kingpin]

Finding Desrium was a quicker and easier endeavour than the verger's. As promised, he was at the gate, waiting for them. By now, the Scholar had made the most of the thinner crowds to take on his true form once more. Beshayir walk in the shadow of one of his wings, held intentionally apart from the dragon's flank, just sufficiently enough to offer shade from the afternoon sun. Ceridwen accompanied them, looking a bit less than amused that the Scholar had stacked up the essentials for Beshayir on the dragoness's back, wrapped up in a thick linen sheet and tied off across her chest.

[C S]

Of course, Desrium spotted the improvised pack when the group was far down the main road, and knew well in advance what the verdict was for Septimus and Syria' mission. He knew for certain that if they heard any opposition to the plan, they would have abandoned it until a later, more opportune time. It was admirable of the child to be so understanding, Desrium noted some time before they were near.

"I will be seeing you off, it appears," he said to the duo as they drew close. To Beshayir and Ceridwen, he said, "I was able to speak to Evisa earlier. She is expecting you."