Shadow Island Invasion STG3: Servitude. (Closed)

The way Quinn's crossbow continued to fire out arrows like rain, her expression seemed mechanical at best. As each heavy bolt imbedded itself deep into decaying flesh, she barely batted a single eye. She was always a fast learner. She had done this before, mere hours ago and she had been in what was her own Hell. Another shot, another body, another deathly groan and another muffled thump but more poured in. The skies darkened, the streets awash with both the red blood and the black bile that spewed from the undead. Quinn had danced away from the backline, with Valor at her side, she took those crawling across the walls down. Again and again and again.

It was only when an empty click vibrated her hand did she look down. Out of bolts. The ranger stepped back a little further, hiding herself in the tower's shadow as she fished out a couple more projectiles to reload her weapon. Where there should be darkness, there was but a tinge of light and Quinn squinted. It was getting closer. She looked up, a little flame dancing in the air - sea green and pale blue twisting into each other. The colors captivated her, pupils dilating against the mischievous sight. Valor ruffled his feathers uncomfortably, but he too uttered not a single sound.

The spark seemed to flip in the air, and Quinn's eyes followed obediently. The ranger stood, hands still clutching her crossbow tightly. It winked at her, the ocean light. It called to her. Its voice was strange, yet familiar. Deep and dark, and it promised her things. Her brother. Her memories of the past and images of a future. The possibility that Caleb will find himself in gleaming armor, a knight of Demacia... but at a cost. A price. Quinn's mind was awash of thoughts of life, that one must sacrifice before something wondrous must be gained. Caleb's tears came back to her, tiny rivulets that sank into her heart like droplets of knives and his words, "It's your fault."

Quinn bit her tongue hard, fiercely narrowing her eyes. They could bring him back. She can see their power, right before her. What had Demacia done for them? Done for the countryside where her family lived? She defended the city, and the King barely had a word or time of day. A commoner, they called her. They could all die. Even... Quinn glanced over, the golden suit glowing as bright as ever in the midst of shadow. Jarvan, the rumors had been flying and even those had reached her common ears. Quinn felt disgust well up in her, at how she had been so blinded. She only ever needed her family, and Caleb needed her.

She stepped out into the open, her eyes back on the spark that called to her. It would take her to him.

Quinn was enraptured; in complete and utter rapture with the sweet song of the spark that seemed to drain all shadow from her breast. It blew the song of tales high into the air, a glorified promise of everything she could ever need. Valor too seemed tucked inside his own little world with his eyes fixated directly in front. While the clashes of bloody metal and stinking flesh surrounded the duo, they were otherwise lost to the bigger picture. Quinn was only vaugely aware of it all, but it was such a shame to allow this to pass so suddenly. Her weapon hung loosely at her fingertips as the beasts lowered their claws, their gaping jaws staring uselessly before turning to ravage upon another soldier's throat.

She had somehow gone unseen through the thick of bodies, her years of training showing through her soft steps and her ability to hide her presence like a dewdrop in snow. It would have been surprising if anyone noticed what she was doing - not many seemed to pay much attention to her. It was only when Quinn and Valor were stopped in front of the Shadow of War himself did the ranger stir from her misty thoughts. It was strange, the way anger cut through the fog so cleanly but anything else was left to soak in the darkness. Quinn shifted slightly, her armor tapping together gently as Hecarim began to speak. A name to the voice.

At first, she hesitated. Something was telling her this was not what Caleb would have wanted, but the selfish part of her fiercely proclaimed that he was dead and that they couldn't possibly know what he would have wanted. Perhaps he wanted to live more than to die before his prime. To watch Quinn in her Demacian armor may have not been what he wanted. Did she ever think that maybe, death wasn't all about loyalty or courage or bravery? That life was a life and that a life was always worth living, because there was always someone else out there who deserved it more?

Quinn shivered violently. "I will do anything to have my brother back," she then said, her voice low. She injected as much force as she could, but she was careful not to allow too much desperation seep out. "I don't care about heroics," and it was insulting that he would even imply it. But she did not say anything. Instead, she gripped her crossbow tighter, its metal clinking against her leg.

"My brother has given Demacia his life, but Demacia has never offered anything in return. Our Prince is no King, and our King has no time for commoners," Quinn spat her words out like hot fire, the familiar anger burning through her. "I am no noble with fancy gadgets, and I am no magician with powerful spells at my disposal. But I have my life and..." Another pause. Quinn licked her lips, her throat going dry within a single breath. She forced herself to continue. "... and I have the trust of those who have given me nothing."

Quinn scowled, though the expression was brief. The little light, less appealing now, was darting around her like a hyperactive child. She didn't know how she felt about that, in all honesty. With the exception of Valor, Quinn didn't like being watched or followed. But she dare not question - the Shadow of War may be fickle, and he may decide that no, the ranger was no longer of any use. She bit her lower lip softly, nodding silently - yes, she understood - but the reason behind it seemed faint now. She was struggling, even if she did not show it. Grasping for reasons, an excuse to her actions. But did she really need to justify herself?

What justification did Demacia's royalty give?

Quinn blinked. Then nodded once more. "Fine." Betrayal was not part of the Measured Tread. But she considered herself betrayed by her own country, a betrayal to Caleb; that their vision of knighthood was not what it seemed. She did not want to see Demacia fall, but nor did she consider it above the love for her family. "But when will I have my brother?"