Post by The Master Tactician on Feb 2, 2013 0:50:51 GMT -5
Feb 2, 23 CLE
A milling crowd, spectators in the tens of thousands, filled the colosseum. The collective roar of the attendees' excitement was deafening as they awaited the coming attractions. The Draven-endorsed event had been well-publicized enough to draw spectators from many corners of Valoran, nobles and commoners alike.
"The Butchering," it was entitled, connoting a show of violence characteristic of Noxian entertainment. Surely, an event not to be missed.
Rows and rows of risers elevated some fifty meters off the ground. The dirt-floored pit stood empty for now, but the shadowy forms of beasts and shackled warriors paced about in their cells--behind the bars lining its walls--awaiting their potentially gruesome fates. The risers filled. In the crowded lower seats, some minor brawls broke out over positioning. Arena guards pulled the transgressors apart, hurled those already intoxicated from the premises. This grand event would not be tarnished or interrupted by drunken riots.
A podium headed the arena, garishly adorned to the specifications of the mustachioed entertainer who would occupy it. Behind this, elevated above the commoners' risers, a green-and-gilded booth, large enough to accommodate the Grand General's personal entourage looked out over the crowd.
Post by kevinxsenpai on Feb 2, 2013 1:04:15 GMT -5
If some one looked close enough they would see the slim figure of Vladimir in the booth above the podium. He was joined by his apprentice as he silently stood, waiting for the event to begin. He turned to Carmilla and spoke to her in a rather commanding tone. "I know it is not like you to act up, but if there ever was a bad time for you to do so, it would be now. Act like nobility, royalty. Heck, if you'd like, you can act like my daughter. Just do not embarrass us, I'd like for the Grand General to think well of the last few Hemomancers. Do you understand me Carmilla?"
Post by The Widowmaker on Feb 2, 2013 1:23:17 GMT -5
Evelynn stalked her way through the crowds gathering, unseen to the naked eye. She smirks, her heels completely silent as she slipped past the guards who were currently dealing with some drunkards... Once inside she begins looking around... She hadn't come for any particular reason, simple boredom and curiousity about the grand general. She heads towards the crowded stands... She stops and almost slaps herself.
She was better than the civilians... Her eyes trail up towards Swain's booth... Looked comfy and large enough... She smirks, not realising who was actually there. Sticking to the shadows she begins to move... Hmm... To kill the occupents? Or scare them off...
Carmilla stood silently next to her master.. her fingers playing a long the hem of her elegant dress.. her thoughts were else where, really.. she was looking throughout the crowd, her red eyes searched for something to do.. something to occupy her time with when her master's words broke her thought. She looked up at him and nodded "Yes master" she replied, resuming to her silent stature afterwards
Post by The Deceiver on Feb 2, 2013 1:55:58 GMT -5
The gentle sound of laughter, which would remind one of the gentle tinkling of bells could be heard by only High General Swain. The Deceiver was somewhere about, and he knew once he was ready to make his appearance, she would be by his side, arm in arm.
Post by Kevin Droflum on Feb 2, 2013 2:39:20 GMT -5
Kevin found himself at the center of the crowd a couple of rows from the arena, waiting for the event to start. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he was sure there would be some interesting abilities that would be used here that he wouldn't mind picking up for his travels. He sat with a bag of popcorn in hand and awaited for the show to commence, chuckling as the drunkards were thrown out from the Arena. He looked up at the podium before tilting his head up a bit more to see the spectator's box. He wasn't sure who was in there, but he sure wished he was.
Post by The Master Tactician on Feb 2, 2013 2:45:33 GMT -5
The matron's tinkling laugh. The slightest of smiles crinkled the crows' feet at the Grand General's eyes as his carriage trundled to a halt before the packed Arena. He was clad today not in his typical military ensemble, but in a smart black double-breasted jacket and ebon ascot. A magnificent cape trailed from his mantle, and at her perch upon his shoulder sat The Raven: that leering bird without which he was never seen.
The footman hurried to the door, drew it open. From their posts at each corner of the coach, Raedsel descended, statues springing to life. Swain took up his cane, limped across the mobile chamber and emerged into the winter sun. A hush fell over the crowd as he laboriously descended the carriage steps. At the bidding of accompanying guardsmen, the spectators parted, cleared a path from the general's carriage to the colosseum's entrance.
Swain's boots touched the ground. He turned, offering his cane-less hand to some unseen supposed second occupant of the cab. The bird at his shoulder issued a piercing shriek: a haunting cry that echoed out over the onlookers.
Post by The Deceiver on Feb 2, 2013 3:11:48 GMT -5
Soon locked within the High General's arm, was the seemingly translucent arm of the Deceiver. The snow silk, fingerless gloves she wore seemed to barely exist, spun from fine the finest of spider's silk. Her dress was meant to be a contrast to the General's clothing, light and shadow, man and woman, and was more than an homage to her name: Nearly a thousand of the purest cut diamonds were sewn into the strapless, sleeveless low cut dress, with a slit in the dress that nearly traveled up her entire thigh.
Her pristine heels seemed impossible to mar as she walked in stride with the High General.
She did not wear her usual headdress, and instead settled for a golden circlet with a sixty karat pear shaped diamond. Her face had only the lightest application of makeup, a light tint of red on her lips to help others revel in their fullness, a dark shade of eyeshadow in order to help bring out her glimmering, silvery eyes, and in her free hand, she carried an elegant, white staff, once more, ending in a triplet of three diamonds: One eighty karat circular cut, one one a hundred twenty karat emerald cut diamond and a hundred and sixty cushion cut diamond floated in the air.
If, for some reason, one was able to look at LeBlanc up close, the reflection in the diamonds they would see would be that of the regal outfit of Jericho Swain. As close of a look as they may want to take, they would be swiftly reminded who she was here with.
Her full lips smiled at the sight of the arena, her hips swaying with every step she took. Today was going to most certainly be a memorable day.
Post by Daichi Hamamoto on Feb 2, 2013 5:24:57 GMT -5
Within the shadows of Swain’s personal booth stood a summoner, clad in green Noxian robes and golden trim etched into the cloth like that of the Raedsel. His hood was up, concealing the details of his face ever so slightly, though a minor spell was at work ensuring no detail beneath the hood would be seen besides darkness in any case. And if they failed, well his nonmagical and mundane attempts at adverting attention from himself would do well enough.
Despite his stature, he stood tall and attentive. He had been handpicked for this after all. Nothing would escape his eye when it came to this booth should the Radesel fail. Everything would go perfectly today, even if he detested the massacre that was about to begin. His duty mattered far more than those who were about to meet a most grizzly end. In his opposite corner was another who wore the same exact attire and seemed to be more or less the same height. His partner stood as tall and was as attentive as he.
The door swung open, to introduce the pair and the two immediately turned to pay mind to it. He knew who was entering and if he were not guarding he would have surely knelt to both, or at least the one he wanted to kneel to.
Darius was grateful to be in the tinted booth, he sat in the back right corner and did his best to sleep. His massive cleaver rested with him, propped up against the wall though just before he began to doze the click of a set of heels forced his eyes open with the prospect of ogling... nothing?
He let his eyes droop as a hand fell closer to his executioner, The Deceiver was already accounted for, so where was the swaying bottom to accompany this noise? While no one else in the booth seemed to take notice of this, Darius was ready for a potential surprise.
Post by The Glorious Executioner on Feb 3, 2013 5:39:48 GMT -5
Draven pokes his head out to see if the people had gathered and were ready for a show. Oh they were. Draven gets everything prepared and walks out into the middle of the arena. "PEOPLE OF NOXUS ARE YOU READY FOR A SHOW?!?!!?!?!?" He screams out as the roar of the crowd grows. "BEFORE WE GET STARTED I MUST GIVE THE PROPER INTRODUCTION TO THE MAN THAT THIS IS ALL DEDICATED TO OUR GREAT GRAND GENERAL JERICOOOOOO SWAIIIINNNNNNN" Draven yells pointing up at the lords private viewing box. "NOW TIME FOR THE FIRST EVENT." He shouts out over the roar of the arena. Five men in single file with guards on either side slowly walk out into the middle of the arena next to Draven. Shortly after a guard walks out and throws 3 weapons around the arena. "THESE MEN WILL FIGHT FOR THEIR FREEDOM FIVE MEN ENTER ONE MAN LEAVES WITH HIS LIFE AND A CHANCE AT FREEDOM." The men look at each other and to the crowd scared about what will happen. Draven nods to the guards. The shackels come off. The combatants look at draven. "Now would be a good time to fight for your life." he says to them. They all dart off in different directions hoping to get a weapon before anyone else. Of course some are faster than others. After they fight the unarmed men it comes down to three. All scared what will happen to them. As the men fight Draven makes his exit on his way to the lords private booth.
Post by The Master Tactician on Feb 3, 2013 6:03:39 GMT -5
The Grand General had only just entered the booth, Madame LeBlanc in all her splendor upon his arm, when the executioner's theatrical voice rang through the colosseum. Swain grunted in barely contained irritation, but managed a wave of acknowledgement to the multitude when Draven's dedication was issued. He limped along the front row, his calculating gaze falling on each of the already-present members of his entourage in turn.
When they reached the center seat, the general stood, leaning on his cane, until his mistress settled herself. He then lowered himself heavily into the seat beside her, watching absentmindedly as the subjects of Draven's little game scurried to arm themselves.
Post by The Widowmaker on Feb 3, 2013 14:07:01 GMT -5
Evelynn stops moving immediatly when she notices Darius had heard her, she stares at her heels... Tapping them on the floor... Seems they weren't muffled like she thought they where. Careful now, not to make a single noise she moves over to Darius, her voice barely above a whisper, "Hello Darius dear..." Her voice would echo in his ears for a moment, yet she couldn't be seen.
Post by The Deceiver on Feb 3, 2013 16:47:50 GMT -5
LeBlanc took her respective seat quietly and delicately, staring at the scene before them. Upon hearing Draven's opening speech, she gave the slightest smirk and roll of her eyes.
The Deceiver watched the spectacle unfold before them, but in all honesty, she seemed a bit...bored. Five men fighting for their lives, it is something she has seen on smaller and grander scales before. Oh well, hopefully the next event will be a bit more befitting of a Draven organized event.
Post by The Glorious Executioner on Feb 3, 2013 21:18:03 GMT -5
Draven makes his way trough the crowd oh his way to the High Generals booth. Hearing he cheering and the applause he smiles ear to ear as the 3 men remaining fight for their lives. Finally making it to the Green and gilded booth he knocks on the door waiting for an invatation to come in.
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