Post by The Ruined King on May 20, 2013 2:25:05 GMT -5
20th May, 23
Steeped in a chilling silence, darkened and faded with cracks darting across the walls and the decor' of the once beautiful throne room. Every sound echoed along its lengthy corridor with high ceilings looming with deepened shadows seeming to host darker beings unseen even by the common resident of the Shadow isles. Guardians perch out of sight, and observe, ever loyal to the one who sat upon the throne. A faded red carpet lined the path towards the terrifying being that stare with a passive gaze towards the dim light in the doorway.
The faintest hint of ghostly vines would creep their way up, withered in places by the deep sadness that plagued the weak. Phantoms sway in light spots of mist that lingered nearest to the darkest corners, twinkling in and out of view at random in colors fitting to a place such as this. Nothing of the castle was welcoming, and the throne room was an ominous place to walk. Servants tread lightly, and Champions could feel their every move watched, always searching for something that may raise suspicion.
Spirit flames danced through the air like a chaotic balefire, ever eager to escape as it hungered to take control of more souls and pull them into its sapphire light. They illuminated the seemingly endless passage held in iron gripped torches which lead towards the throne. A well known figure sat upon it both respected and feared by those who lived upon the isles. He leaned forward with his hand curled loose beneath his chin and his elbow perched upon the armrest. His other arm lay loose across the other armrest, back arched with his burning gaze set forward in distant thought. Not a soul would disturb him as he waited for his summons to arrive.
Currently Summoned: Hecarim, Thresh, Mordekaiser, Yorick(if active), Evelynn, Azazel, Legion
I am the one who defied death. I am the one he fears. I am the on he can not take. One sweep of my hand and your nations will fall. Come for me you worms. You will all bow before my legions or be broken beneath us as we march upon your cities.
Post by Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield on May 20, 2013 2:41:11 GMT -5
Upon the step where the Ruined King's feet rested, just slightly to the left of him would a petite figure sit. An ebony cloak rested about her frame with the hood pulled up to conceal her features from those who might arrive. She said nothing as her head remained bowed and her hands folded in her lap just visible beneath the front opening of the cloak. Wavy locks of hair fell free of the hood to contrast against the darkness of her clothing, silky with deep reds laced with other unusual colors. Her skin was pale with lightly pink hued cheeks just barely seen as the shadows shrouded most of her face. She didn't seem to dare raise her head as she listened for people to start to arrive.
As they did, she reluctantly pulled the cloak tighter about her form to hide herself more from the eyes of those called forth. A soft tremble rushed through her being with discomfort and uncertainty especially at how they might respond when they hear what TRK has to say. She turns her head slightly, silent as if to gaze up slightly at the King, though she never fully risks looking directly at him. She did not intend to show him any kind of disrespect especially in front of his subordinates.
Post by The Shadow of War on May 20, 2013 3:55:37 GMT -5
Hecarim made his entry into the throne room swiftly with spirit fire circling around his body and took a quick look around to notice he was the first to arrive as usual, seeing as he dwelled just above the ruined city and was closest to the castle. Nonetheless he bowed to his king and noted the figure beside him, He had never seen this individual on the isles before but if they were important then his king would tell him. Before his mind drifted too far off on thinking of the unknown he raised his head and speaking to his king
"I trust when the others arrive you will tell us why we were summoned my liege, but after that I must speak to you... alone, The others need not to be bothered with this information."
Azazel's form would be the second through the large doors, black smoke rolling from his robes as he approached the throne with a brisk pace. He kept his head bowed, his eyes staring at the shifting pattern upon the decayed carpet as he walked. He dropped to a kneel before the throne, "Sire." He looked up, eyes studying the figure wrapped in the cloak sitting before the king like a pet. Azazel smirks but remains silent.
"About WHAT information Hecarim?" A deep voice sounded as the floor slightly shook with each step the Master of Metal took. "And to think you didn't trust ME." He said mocked lightly as he smirked behind the veils of his helmet. His cape fluttered slightly as he took his large strides, causing the cape to catch wind of his walking. His armor was finally managed to get clean, no longer the crimson red it was from those who had failed at defending in Demacia. His mace was hefted over his shoulder as he looked around to find the undead summoner, Azazel here. "What are you doing here? I thought we all agreed to declare you a no good summoner who can't follow simple orders? I didn't realize we still had some use for you. Or was that Karthus? Nah... Both most likely." He said, with a rather insulting tone. To think the havoc they could have caused if they actually DECIDED to keep Xin Zhao, but nooo they HAD to take the Ionian dragoon.
He just looked back at the King, noticing the robed figure sitting by his feet like some sort of dog laying by its master. He let out a small snerk of laughter before getting on one knee, bowing his head. "Evening my King, is there anything you need of me during this meeting?" He asked before he stood back up, standing with Hecarim and the others, but more so next to Hecarim.
Post by The Widowmaker on May 20, 2013 18:48:04 GMT -5
A pair of molten yellow eyes glowed softly from the shadows, a subtle announcement the Widowmaker had arrived. She stepped from the darkness with a slight smirk on her lips, her heels clicked upon the cold stone floor as she approaches The Ruined King, her eyes flicked to the cloaked woman upon the step before the king and pouted, "You never let me sit there..." her voice conveying jealously seemed to echo through-out the hall as she stopped beside Mordekaiser, "Your new favorite, my king?"
Last Edit: May 20, 2013 18:49:24 GMT -5 by The Widowmaker
The shrouded form of the Voice of the Legion walked into the throne room. It moved past the other champions, not giving them a second glance,its focus on the king alone. The hunched form bowed awkwardly and gracefully at the time.
"We have arrived as you have commanded Your Majesty."
It then looked back bowed at the others present, but much less deeply.
"Greeting to all who have been summoned by the King."
"We are the King's Legion. Fear us, for we are many. Join us, for you will die. There is no sweeter mercy we can grant than your release from the mortal coil."
With a grim rattling of chains and a rhythmic clanking and grinding of sharpened metal on stone, the Chain Warden steadily advanced into the Throne Room with a look of utter dismay about his countenance. His harvest had been unsatisfactory in the invasion, but more than that, it was an outrage, their withdrawal from Demacia as the city was in its death throes. The city's putrid, misbegotten existence would doubtlessly continue thanks to the League's intervention, and the thought filled Thresh with an unspeakable fury. They would all pay, including choice members of the Shadow Isles. To see said figures cast down from their thrones of arrogance, to see them writhe in unthinkable agony, to make them suffer just as much as he had...yes, that was exactly what he needed: fresh victims.
The figure at the foot of the Ruined King's throne was instantly recognizable to Thresh as he advanced. That insufferable, mewling wench again, but now with the King's personal attention. Almost reflexively, Thresh gave a slight 'bah!' of audible disgust. How dare a mere mortal, a miserable sack of flesh, be allowed to stand within such proximity of the lord of undeath? A travesty, just as their entire invasion had been in the end. The Warden's hope dwindled as he came to a halt in line with his contemporaries; they were scarcely worth even acknowledging at present, for what did they matter? It was growing increasingly unlikely that he would ever see them again, it seemed. Just as his vengeance upon Demacia, his desires would be swept away into the abyss by the monarch of the damned.
"I have heard the summons," Thresh uttered with a low rasp, only inclining his head to a degree. In his left gauntlet, the Lantern hung silently, giving off a fittingly low light in lieu with its master's grim indignation. "What is thy will?"
Post by The Ruined King on May 21, 2013 13:18:30 GMT -5
At once as Thresh finished speaking the fire that emitted from the King's helm flared. He had remained completely still as his champions all entered one by one, he could have easily been mistaken for a statue. The King's eyes swept across the room, confirming those he had called had arrived. All but one... But he had not been seen for some time. The King's voice would crash though Hecarim's thoughts, confirming he had in fact heard the Shadow of War. "So be it."
"A month... A since our invasion upon Valoran." His eyes narrowed upon Azazel, his disobedience was yet to be dealt with, a cold sharp pain would enter into Azazel's skull as though it had been impaled with an icicle. Thresh would no doubt have a punishment suitable for the Undead Summoner's ignorance. At the same time the King sat upright upon the throne, his eyes ablaze with the cyan spirit fire, "What we sent, the army that obliterated their walls and slaughtered the living like cattle, that was nothing of our power. A small fraction... It was simply to poke at their defenses, test how they would react. To see the response time of the Institute of War. Our might has been shown to the world, they now know we are more than fairy tales and cautionary stories scare children. They will fear us."
The king's voice quietened significantly, almost turning to a soft tone, "And in return, we have acquired something of grave importance to the Demacian's," He gestures to the woman sitting upon the step before him, "Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield. Wife of the current Demacian prince. The knowledge she is alive, yet unable to be saved will break the prince..."
His gaze settles upon Thresh, to gauge his reaction to the news to come, "So long as she remains upon the Isles, any and all unwilling Demacian souls are to be released from our grasp and allowed to pass into deaths realm without interference from us. No Demacian is to be harmed by my command." The king pauses, "The Shadow Isle's gaze will be elsewhere, the Demacian's are do doubt rebuilding with aid from the institute and their various allies. To strike again so soon would be meaningless so long as the Institute of War still stands. The Demacian souls must be replaced by others, and soon."
I am the one who defied death. I am the one he fears. I am the on he can not take. One sweep of my hand and your nations will fall. Come for me you worms. You will all bow before my legions or be broken beneath us as we march upon your cities.
Post by Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield on May 21, 2013 16:44:49 GMT -5
Quietly the cloaked figure sat at the feet of the King, her head bowed ever so slightly to cast a deep shadow over her features. It was terribly lonely here, and the scrutiny from the Isles residents gave her no level of peace as she listened to their scoffs and quiet musings.
As the chains clicked and clanked with their haunting tone, Belle slowly lifted her head to gaze upon the Warden. A taste of disgust shown in her eyes, gleaming with as close to hatred as she would allow herself to feel. It choked at the warmth the King had grown to enjoy from Belle as she cautiously tugged the hook closed a little more around her chin.
There, for but a split of a moment a golden hue would consume the iris of her right eye, then fade away to the gentle teal that they commonly were. The taint of the Isles had slowly taken its toll on her mortal body, and soul, and infected it with something dark. No one on the Isles could escape such a thing. Not even one who's soul is so pure.
Slowly she lowered her head just enough to conceal her eyes, but upon the Champions and the Summoner they would linger with caution. The King's words echoing throughout the throne room boldly, making her feel all the more small and insignificant as she watched their reactions equally. Measuring if she should be fearful of what they might do, or remain confident that no one here would harm her... for now.
Azazel's eyes narrow upon the woman before the King, this is NOT what was supposed to happen. Jarvan was supposed be overwhelmed by his emotions, to lead an idiotic charge against the Isles and fall. What was the King thinking?! Azazel growls standing upright, "Sire... What point does this serve? To release the souls of the already dead?"
The undead summoner stands from his kneeling position in front of the throne, never daring to look directly at the king as he openly questioned the King's choice, Azazel was no coward, but he wasn't an idiot either.
Post by The Shadow of War on May 22, 2013 7:32:42 GMT -5
As Mordekaiser made his presence known in the throne room Hecarim uttered a low growl and turned to him and spoke briefly but with notable anger in his voice.
"I was not talking to you Mordekaiser, if you were listening you would know i said you do not need to be bothered with it."
As the others entered the throne room he gave them all brief but respectable bows, except Azazel, the dark summoner had been given a threatening glare from the centaur. As the king made his statement the centaur was surprised as his voice went soft when he spoke of this Marabelle, he hoped this individual's presence had not made his king go soft, but nonetheless understood the message even though he personally had not slain too many demacians or taken souls.
With this development it made his situation with his agent back in Demacia much simpler, but something was still bothering the centaur, why was this woman... this LIVING being treated as a guest rather a prisoner? Hecarim knew his brothers and sister were no doubt wondering the same and decided to ask, feeling bold that his trust with the king would carry through and they would receive answers.
"It is understood my king, but what of her? She is being used to break Jarvans will that much is understood, but what will we do with her once that is done? Allow her to return to Demacia as one of so few who have visited our home and left alive? Unless she is becoming one of us...?"
Post by The Widowmaker on May 22, 2013 15:29:21 GMT -5
At the King's announcement Evelynn simply shrugged, she had no use for the souls of the dead. Not harming them however, she would do whatever she was contracted to by any employers she may have. The King's rule having no authority over her. Evelynn grins at the woman, "You have him wrapped around your little finger, don't you?" a quiet hum sounds from Evelynn as she looked up to the king raising and eyebrow, barely managing to restrain herself from implying something sexual about the situation.
Legion bowed at the king, giving him it's understanding of his orders. It turned its attention to the woman sitting near the king, for Legion also wondered what her true purpose was here. As Thresh entered and made his remarks about her, Legion thought it felt a small whisper of power from the woman but it was gone as soon as it was there. The shrouded host turned to Evelynn as she spoke, almost glaring at her.
"It would be best not to insinuate anything about the girl and her current role here Widowmaker. The king will make things clear as he sees fit, till then we advise you do not stir up trouble."
"We are the King's Legion. Fear us, for we are many. Join us, for you will die. There is no sweeter mercy we can grant than your release from the mortal coil."
Mordekaiser just looked at him, blank faced... And stared. Not even a wide eye stare of shock, or a narrowed, glowing glare... He just... Stared at the King... Back at the woman who sat by his feet, only to stare at her a little longer as Evelynn made her little comment, then back at the King. He REALLY had no words for this. Yes, frustration was boiling inside of him, but it was at a point where his body didn't even have a REACTION to it. WHY. WHY ON EARTH WOULD HE STOP AN ASSAULT?! THEY HAD THE POWER TO TAKE THE DEMACIANS WHILE THEY WERE LIMPING AND RECOVERING. IF THEY HAD SO MUCH POWER, WHY NOT USE IT TO CRUSH THE DEMACIANS AND THE SUMMONERS?! He clenched the mace tightly when no one was looking, before taking in a deep breath. Now would NOT be the time to let loose. Yelling at the King, while in front of his loyal subjects WOULD result in DIRE consequences.
Mordekaiser gently laid his mace down on the ground beside of him. "Your King, with all due respect, I agree with Hecarim. She is only a bone to wave in front of that measly mutt they call a prince. We shouldn't just let her LIVE here as a guest of honor. Shouldn't we be, I don't know, inflicting slow and agonizing pain on her? Jarvan would come running head first and we could set up a trap and then kill him. Hell we could even kill her and then have them BOTH join the Isles. I mean, I'm not saying your plans aren't BAD or anything." Even though his mind was saying the EXACT OPPOSITE. "I'm just saying there are perhaps many routes we could take now that we have the woman in our grasp now. Besides, why did we even take her? What else does she have besides a little worthless ring on her finger." He asked before picking up his mace again. Well, if that was trying to be calm and respectful, Mordekaiser honestly wouldn't know what is...
Then again it's not like he was often calm and respectful...
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