Post by Heywan Relivash on Feb 16, 2013 13:58:42 GMT -5
(( Visitors to Heywan Relivash are allowed only with special clearance. And only while listening to this. >:] ))
Down the twisting halls--runic writing on the walls, cold beneath the parthenon's public stories--there lies a room, a hold, a cell. Two barriers of light enclose it well. The first wall pulses purple, smothers spells. The second, shining white against the cavern's gloom, prevents corporeal entry or exit of the room. At their posts outside, summoner-guards abide, hands clasped tight inside their sleeves. This is their duty, forever vigilant, without clearance no one enters. No one leaves.
And there upon the neatly tended bed, his hair and beard disheveled, eye-whites red, sits a man in perfect silence, still, serene: a man whose face all Valoran has seen. Heywan Relivash staring straight ahead, so still he could be made of stone. (Perhaps his mind is twisted from so many months alone...)
Then, abruptly, his features twist into a grin--but for a moment before they're blank again. And then, a sneer narrows his hooded eyes, as though he's trying on these looks for size. Suddenly a scowl darkens his face, his head snaps back and forth. He's studying the place. A moan, a groan, a grimace, a pleasant smile. He's trying on expressions all the while, when footsteps suddenly sound upon the stairs. No denying someone's there. He sits up straight and claps his hands a single time, the thought of company sublime.
Indeed, the clatter of footsteps outside the door betray the presence of another, and another, and another. Several footfalls sound and then, silence, except for the chanting of several voices in unison. They are low, harmonic, almost like monks speaking in whispers. Only to the trained ear would one recognize them as incantations for a set of powerful spells. These were spells so powerful that several summoners had to cast them simultaneously. However, the League took no chance with the captive locked behind the twin barriers, for, arguably, he was one of the most dangerous men alive, wielding even more power than any champion, save, perhaps, an incredibly select few. Behind the barriers, however, he was as mortal and powerless as any man.
The cause for the chanting, however, was that this most dangerous of men had a visitor. The individual was about to pass through the barriers and into the man's realm. The incantations were as much for their protection from the magical enchantments holding Heywan Relivash, as they were to keep the visitor safe from the man himself, in the case he attempted to try anything foolish... Minutes passed, and finally, the chanting ceased, and a male voice sounded quietly. "It is done. You may enter."
Clacks and creaks of weary deadbolts and locks sounded as the door beyond the door leading to the holding cell was unlocked with yet another set of incantations. No legendary locksmith or mythical mage outside the Institute would be able to breach the locks set in place to keep this door shut. With spells, the strength of the caster determined the skill and power needed to remove it, and as every spell had been cast using the power of multiple high-level summoners, few in all Runeterra could even ponder the chance thought of success.
However, the door locks gave way, and a single set of footsteps moved ahead through the small corridor between the outside world, and the world of Heywan Relivash. The door to the inner sanctum would creak and swing into the room, the form of the visitor coming into view clearly.
Riven, the Exile, walked into the cell of Heywan Relivash, former High Councilor of the Council of Equity, successor to Reginald Ashram, and easily the biggest traitor to the League and all of Runeterra in modern memory. The woman's amber eyes would scan the room before coming to rest upon Relivash, the door locking behind her as she closed the inner door.
"Heywan Relivash... Traitor to the League, and architect of the Kalamanda Incident..." She took a deep breath and sighed. "I have some questions to ask you about a former League Champion, and current Grand General of Noxus... Jericho Swain."
Post by Heywan Relivash on Feb 16, 2013 16:41:02 GMT -5
His bloodshot eyes grow wide, fix upon her face--this woman in his space. He waits. Her words are music on the air. He's grinning as she speaks: a vacant stare. "Questions?" Behind his beard, his smile stretches wide with dark intrigue too powerful to hide. "Riddles? Bushy eyebrows shoot up, perhaps hoping in vain that she would play a game, the only waking thought that keeps him sane. But then, that name: Jericho Swain.
The smile evaporates, replaced with the darkest scowl, a mad expression, sinister and foul. "What could you possibly want with that nonsense?" he snaps, extends a twisted, trembling finger, pointing harshly where the woman lingers. His sharpened yellow nails like feral claws stretch towards her in the pause. But then he drops his hand down to his side, gives himself a quiet chide, "Too rude." His attitude shifts backwards in an instant, and once again he plays the friendly host. He gets up from the bed, strides silent, like a ghost, over to the small adjacent table.
"Tea, dear child?" he questions, eyes alight. He indicates the teapot at his right. Not waiting for her answer to his offer, he flips open a simple wooden coffer--the only other item on the stand--and takes two teabags in his withered hand.
Riven was silent. Was this what the man had turned into since being imprisoned? The look of his mind unwinding before the grinding torture of his solitary binding was clear for the finding of all. It was sad that he had grown so unhinged at his time in the cell, his own private hell. But, Riven was not here to play his games, she was here to gather names. The warped man before her could not ignore her. ((And that's enough of that.))
"Tea would be fine..." Riven sighed inwardly. It was clear the man needed some form of company, probably to keep his fragile mind in check. If she continued to belabor the point, it would only frustrate the man. Interrogation had been one aspect she had never really learned, but, she did understand that sometimes, one had to give the person something they wanted, before they would offer up any valuable information.
Riven would take a few steps and take a seat at a small table, waiting for the man. Right now, she would drink a little tea, and see if the man had any valuable information within his rattled brain.
Post by Heywan Relivash on Feb 17, 2013 1:25:41 GMT -5
Trembling, twisted hands reach for the pot, dunk teabags where there should be steaming water--but there's not. He waits upon the empty kettle's brew, drumming claw-like fingers, humming too: an eerie tune that bounces off the walls, echoes in the quiet dungeon halls. Finally, after some minutes waiting, he takes a mug with cracking gilded plating from the drawer--and then one more. He sets them out before the two, pours the imagined brew and sits back in his seat. He smiles, sweet.
"Now, child, ask me a question." He takes a sip of air, fixes his stare upon her amber eyes and cries, "And an answer you'll receive!" As though the man believes his cup is full, he stirs its 'contents' with a gnarled finger in the lull.
Riven decided to play along with the man's game for the time being, though she silently wondered if the information she sought had been lost within the fragmented memories of the traitor. She pushed such thoughts aside and sat down, taking hold of her 'cup of tea' and taking a 'sip'. She nodded, as if pleased by the taste. "Thank you..."
"Now then, you mentioned questions... Perhaps a game will be more enjoyable for you." Riven's voice evened out as she spoke matter-of-factly to the man. "You asked me a question first. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask a question of you before answering your previous one." Riven stared briefly into the empty teacup as she pondered.
"You asked what I wanted with the nonsense of Jericho Swain and the Kalamanda Incident." She paused a moment before looking back up to meet the eyes of the older gentleman. "I wish to see his underhanded trickery and backroom deals exposed, so that Noxus may yet be reforged without the corruption currently festering both in its streets, and the High Command."
Her answer was clear enough, but now, she had to ask a question in return. That was how the game worked, after all. Fractured mental state or not, even a child could grasp the simplicity of the game. "What deals were made with Jericho Swain for power during the Kalamanda Incident?"
Post by Heywan Relivash on Feb 17, 2013 3:14:49 GMT -5
A flash, a glint, a sparkle in his eyes. "What an unprecedented surprise! You like games? All right, all right," but at the name his eyes lose all their light. He sighs, "It is unwise to delve too deeply into such a thing. No, we should sing instead." He shakes his head, but does not move to start a song. His face grows long. His forehead crinkles. Shadows deepen in his wrinkles.
"You cannot blame me for what transpired. I was a fool, but I am not a liar." His face droops down in a heavy frown. He stares into his teacup, for the moment unable to speak up, dredging up some memories unknown, buried deep beneath his time alone.
And then, as quickly as deep sadness crossed his face, a smile gleams out brightly in its place. "And now I get to ask a question, yes?" He smooths the wrinkles from his simple dress. His gaze suddenly burns with grim derision. "What would you do to implement your vision?"
"That was two questions." Riven raised a brow, picking up on the dislike for the mention of Swain's name, and the dual questions. Games had rules. Though, perhaps expecting Heywan Relivash to follow rules was illogical. "You asked if you got to ask a question, and then followed it up with a second question." Riven blinked and sat the teacup upon the table. Perhaps she would get more out of Relivash is she refrained from using his direct name. "Unwise or not, I have no other leads to follow, and as you may or may not know, the Tactician is good at covering his tracks. The only lead I have that I can pursue, is you." Riven sighed.
"Now then, rules are rules. One question at a time from now on." Riven would pause to make sure the man understood before speaking once more. "I will do whatever I can do within my power, and within my ideals to see my goal made a reality. I have a terrible feeling that dark things are in motion, and unless I can find a way to act, more innocent people will be killed by the greed and corruption of my homeland's leaders and ideals." Riven turned her gaze to the cup again. She really wished there was actually tea in it. She could use a brew of Ionian Green Tea, with Honey... However, Riven had another question.
"You say I cannot blame you, and that while you were a fool, you are not a liar. If I cannot blame you for orchestrating Kalamanda, then what, or who, is responsible for what took place there?" Riven wanted to ask more, but one question at a time was the rule...
Post by Heywan Relivash on Feb 17, 2013 17:13:21 GMT -5
"Dark things, yes... Perhaps it's best that I'm your only lead. Suppose it's right that I should plant the seed." Sad eyes watch her, sunken, overwhelmed, remembering the treachery he helmed. Suddenly, a gnarled hand extends. Firmly clasping Riven's own, it lends a sense of grave paternal sentiment. He leans in, strangely intimate.
"There are things in this world more powerful than man." He looks around, suspicious. "And they are with us: things that can," he pauses, all a-quiver, gives a shiver, then retracts his hand. "You understand... He, she, it, they." The madman leans away, tears forming in his orbs of blue regret. He answers yet, "Don't make me," then stands, throwing back his chair. "I haven't told her anything, I swear!" He cries to nothing but the air.
And then, ashamed, he turns and sits upon the desk, hangs his head, distressed. "No, no tracks. Never tracks. Relax." Still looking down, his frown twists gradually into a grin, and then he beams at Riven. "And now my inquiry. In your idyllic future, what is it that you see?"
Nonsense. Riddles and nonsense. Of course dark things were abound. There was a Void Invasion going on, chained champions and creatures had been released somehow, and Swain gobbled up power like a hungry vulture. To think that Swain perhaps had a hand in any of that made her blood boil.
Relivash was clearly haunted by something, or perhaps he was just too far gone to have a grip on his sanity. Only a few questions in, and Riven was already starting to believe that coming here may have been a great waste of her time and energy. But, what other option did she have? She pushed her growing frustration aside for the moment and simply went about answering Relivash's question.
"I see a Noxus standing out as a pinnacle of strength in Valoran, and Runeterra. A place that people can look at with pride and awe, knowing the the strongest and most talented warriors in all Runeterra reside within the city's walls. A place where we do not stoop to shortcuts, backdoor agreements, and corrupt practices to gain what we want. A place, where we fight, train, and work hard to accomplish our goals, while remembering that, with that strength, comes the responsibility to use it wisely, and for the betterment of Runeterra." Riven sighed as she finished speaking for a moment, letting her words.
"The era of conquest and endless war has come to an end, and Noxus needs to realize this, and reforge its ideals to the old ways, when honor meant something. For too long, my homeland has been seen as a black stain on Runeterra, a symbol of death, conquest and violence...and I seek to change that." Riven's gaze rose again to look to Relivash, hoping this continued questioning would prove helpful in the slightest.
"Dark things played a part in Kalamanda. Dark and powerful things. So, what part did the Tactician have in all this, along with yourself? If I cannot find proof of his involvement and his underhanded deals, I cannot find a flame to hold against him to free my people from the blackness corrupting them..."
Post by Heywan Relivash on Feb 19, 2013 22:42:11 GMT -5
He listens to her speak, a tear upon his cheek, his mustache bristling with bitter discontent. He heaves a sigh of penitent lament. When he replies he wipes his eyes. His tone is soft as well, a hoarse remorseful whisper in the cell. "I will admit my fault: I wanted war. And in my arrogance assumed my victory was assured. So I incited hate between two nations, fell back on my patience, waited for the apex of their rage. Prepared to witness 'the engage...' But then Demacian greave-prints were found outside of Darkwill's tent." The man looks spent. He rubs his wrinkled countenance, physically drained retelling this.
But then he presses on, head hanging, wan. "I hadn't thought that it would get so far so fast... Imagine me, aghast at all this news, the shifting views. He called it a clear declaration of war: every guardsman slaughtered--oh, the gore." Brows knit, emotions writ upon his sunken face. His fingers interlace; he stares up at the roof. "But we'd no proof. Every Demacian unit had an alibi. I don't know why--I had the strangest feeling."
His mind still reeling, his voice trails away. But still he glances towards the barrier and finds the strength to say, "Have them break the anti-magic shield and I will show you."
Riven frowned at the man's request. "With all due respect, you know it is beyond my authority to suggest such a thing. I was barely able to convince them to allow me to speak with you as I am now." Riven sighed. "Find a way to tell it, to draw it, explain it, but after the losses they have suffered with the Butcher, the Scarecrow, the Terror and Mouth of the Void, even the Burning Vengeance, they would not allow the field to be dropped. I trust you understand why."
Riven was getting more and more frustrated. Each bit of information was a scrap, a riddle, even. She hadn't gotten anything concrete to bring against Swain. Information was useless unless she had a way to prove it. The man's mind was so far gone that any testimony he gave would be dismissed as madness by any governing body with strong mental faculties. Dark things played a part, Demacian boot-prints had been spotted near Darkwill's assassination site. And all of Demacia's units had alibis. It sounded familiar to the stories she had read when the fighting broke out, with Prince Jarvan attacking Swain inside the Noxian camps without setting off any warnings. The Prince could not be in two places at once. It was not within his abilities. However...
She ran through her list of possibilities and Swain's known allies. The only one that came to mind with such illusory abilities was none other than his favorite lump of arm candy, Emilia LeBlanc. It was a logical conclusion, but she had no proof. Relivash continued to spout nonsense and half-facts, and it grated on her. The mastermind behind Kalamanda had been turned into a babbling broken-minded fool, and Swain just continued to gain power.
She was getting nowhere.
"I need you to to dig deep, push aside your demons, and concentrate. If you cannot come through, then I have nothing else to go on. I need something concrete, something to discredit him in the eyes of the Noxian people, and show him for the fraud he really is." She sighed in her frustration. "And somehow I doubt Ralston Farnsley will be of nearly as much use..."
Post by Heywan Relivash on Feb 20, 2013 3:54:33 GMT -5
"DEMONS," he hisses, lunges at her, misses. His eyes are wide with panic, burning, manic. His fingers spread like taloned claws, he growls, gnashes his jaws. Then suddenly, a pause. His shoulders droop. His head bows; he resumes his stoop. His fierce expression lightens into something meek and frightened.
"Perhaps," he whispers, "there is something to be found on the blackened grounds of your home state. He shifts his weight. His whisper weakens still, faltering with his conviction, his broken will. "Perhaps, my dear, it is not The Raven we must fear, but the flock."[/size] And then, he falls as still and silent as a rock.
Riven was about ready to deck the old man when he calmed down. Her sword dropped and she raised a brow. His mind really was mostly gone, wasn't it? She cursed her luck. She'd come all this way, marched across Valoran to talk to the man, and he'd given her nothing new to use, no direction other than back to Noxus.
She had theories, but they were useless without proof, and without proof no one would believe her. She'd be thrown out of Noxus by Swain's entourage...his growing "flock" as it were. Renekton was the only one that could possibly raise brows, but, once again, proof and words meant little. Especially the words of Shaco, she thought to herself.
She sighed. "If I knew where to turn, had something to use, I wouldn't be here." She rose and shook her head. "Unless you can give me something I can use as proof, evidence of their crimes..., information I can slap them with to give pause to their supporters, I'm afraid there is nothing more for me here." Riven's gaze turned to the chamber door.
Perhaps leaving was the only other option open to her right now. It was impossible to reason with a man when his capacity to do so had been severely compromised. Her very last lead was Ralston Farnsley, but she very much doubted he would have as much information to give as the man before her now. If only he wasn't so far gone. To be so close, and yet so far only irritated her further.
Post by Heywan Relivash on Feb 20, 2013 20:38:52 GMT -5
"Wait," the old man whispers. "I want to play a different game. Each turn I'll give a proper name and you'll answer with your own improper noun. There will be four--no fewer, no more--for us to work around. Then I'll connect the two for you, to leave you with another clue. Then you'll depart with everything you've found.
"If you are clever, this endeavor will not have been in vain. So keep in mind, whatever you find, how much you have to gain. By the end of the show, may you know where to go--though I will have told you nothing." He gives a firm and solemn gaze, not bluffing.
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