Upon the landscape of desolation and mourning lay sunlight that warmed the darkest of souls in its nurturing light. It seemed a brilliance beyond the shambles of despair, offering hope in Demacia's darkest days.
Grassy patches lay besides those stained with blood, contrasted richly in a seemingly endless battlefield lay strewn with the remnants of death and decay. Burning castles in the distant, and signs of a harsh battle lingered leaving those who happened upon the scene - breathless, and taken aback.
A sole figure on the horizon had been smiling. His steps carrying him forward briskly and with purpose with a sack of peaches rested over his shoulder. Though upon the view of destruction, the smile dropped and his brow wrinkled with shock.
"D-Demacia..?" came the shocked voice of Wukong as he witnessed the ends of a dark tale. What had happened while he left? Had he not returned soon enough?
His steps quickened as he rushed towards the walls, calling out for anyone who may still be alive in the wreckage that once was Demacia's pride and joy.
"HELLO!?" Called the panicked monkey, with a sense of tears in his eyes as he found countless dead scattered about. "Is anyone alive!?" He had hope that Demacia had not completely fallen. That whatever force had caused such devastation had been put to rest.
Few souls would linger, picking up the pieces that remained. Both loved ones and cherished items carried out from the rubble to a place more fitting in preparation of burial, and moving on. As if to bring closure to the lost, a gentle rainfall would sweep the area, coating it with a warm breeze. A whisper that things would eventually be okay.
In the soft drizzle stood the Monkey King, with tears gently running down his cheeks. In all his days, he had never witnessed such a horrific sight. He could not bare to hold back how intensely this effected him.
"Why.." He questioned, "What happened? Was it.. war?" Such pointless chaos as war never fully was understood by the primate. It simply wasn't a part of his world. He knew it existed, but it was a human thing to know war, and to create such ruin for each other.
Step by step he drew nearer to the walls, dumbfounded and completely heart broken at the sight before him. Green eyes searched out any sign of anyone he knew - Champions, Summoners, and anyone else he had encountered. There was no difference between those who fought in the League, and those who did not. Aside from fighting skill, they were still people in the end.
The battle was over, and Demacia endured. Many people died and a lot of structures were raised, but those who survived persevere. It would be quite some time until Demacia was back to its pristine perfection. Everyone will need to step in to help rebuild, even the crown prince himself.
Jarvan was working with his men to help clean up the bodies of the fallen. To prevent them from coming back, limbs were hacked off and their bodies were mutilated. He hated having to do this to his own people, but it was better than the alternative. He would rather ruin his dead men's bodies then have the Shadow Isles reanimate them and have them turn on their former comrades. He tried his best to send his men with all of their pieces to the mass morgue. There they would be identified and prepared for whatever funeral their status required. Every person who fell in this battle would be remembered for their heroic defense of their home.
This battle was weighing heavy on Prince Jarvan's shoulders. He couldn't stop thinking that there was something he could of done better. He could of prepared his citizens better. He could of fought harder. He could of debated with the League to execute the champions from those cursed isles to prevent this attack from even happening.
Jarvan heard the voice over the wall and yelled out not very kindly. "Who goes there?! What business do you have here!?" He carefully stepped over rubble and bodies to see Wukong. He rubbed his face and asked the same question in the nicest tone he could manage. "What business do you have here?" Jarvan's voice was strained. He wasn't in a very good mood, and his patience was worn thin. He would try his best to not explode at an ally from the League.
It was all Wukong could do, to not fall to tears. He stepped over the remnants of the unfortunate event with as cautious of a step as he could. Drawing nearer, he heard the harsh voice of the Prince, perking his ears slightly. He did survive! But before he might celebrate the Prince's life, he would take into account the many deaths that had fallen across Demacia.
"Prince Jarvan." He said, picking up his pace to close the distance to the man, "What happened?" He had to know. This was far too tragic a scene to not question the origins of this chaos. The monkey would take off his hat if he had one, looking around quietly for a long, long moment before those saddened green orbs fell back upon the strained visage of the Prince.
Quietly, the monkey would offer a silent prayer to whatever being may listen. He could do little in this, except perhaps help to clear the rubble and restore some of Demacia's honor by rebuilding what had been shattered in the battle.
"It isn't much, but here's some peaches." He pulled the sack of peaches from his back and offered them to Jarvan, "They're very healthy, and will strengthen the bodies of those who survived, to help rebuild Demacia." It was a genuine offer. He really wanted to help somehow.
Post by Cordellia Spiritmight on May 6, 2013 23:03:51 GMT -5
Cordellia looked upon her fallen city from a distance, sadness crept into her eyes. Her heart breaking at the sight of the broken walls and rubble. The mourning cries of citizens and agonized cries of the wounded sounded as survivors pulled their friends and allies from the remains of the broken walls. What force could wreck such havoc in a matter of days?
She stepped forwards, her legs suddenly drained of strength, fists clenched as tears now streamed from her eyes. Her own personal unit had been stationed elsewhere, where was the Dauntless Vanguard? Where was Shyvana? Cordellia couldn't believe such a force existed within Runeterra, to obliterate the Demacian defense in such a way. She continued to walk, an overwhelming numbness enveloping her body as despair took a hold of her heart.
Cordellia heard the familiar voice of her cousin, yelling at someone asking who they were, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips. She stepped over the rubble slowly making her way, off in the distance she saw the mutilated remains of what looked to be a great beast made of black flesh and bone. What had defiled their city? Why were they cutting limbs off the fallen Demacians?
She approached the prince from behind, her voice laced with a heavy sadness, "Jarv?" She gently places a hand upon his shoulder, "What's going on? What happened here?"
Jarvan's face was wiped of all emotions when Wukong asked of what happened. He set his jaw and took a deep, shaky breath in. "The Shadow Isles happened." He wanted to hit something, anything he was so furious. He might of sucker punched Wukong if they weren't by the wall. He vented his frustrations on the crumbling rocks, denting his knuckle covers.
The prince snapped his head up when his fellow champion offered the peaches. "Thanks." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. He broke away from the wall to accept the peaches and he handed the sac to a nearby guard. "Pass these out, tell the men to take a break." The guard nodded and ran off, glad to be away from the unstable prince.
Upon feeling a hand upon his shoulder and a familiar voice call him by his nick-name, he covered his face in shame. He could not bear to look at his cousin, he feared her gaze would be of disappointment. "Cordellia, I have failed. The Shadow Isles came and I couldn't stop them. They entered the city and slaughtered many people." He dropped down onto his knees, still covering his face. "I'll never surpass my father, I can't even keep my people safe."
Even though he fought against them, hot tears began to roll down his cheeks. "I can't protect the city. I can't even protect my own wife! I fear what will happen to Demacia once my father passes, I am not fit to be a king." He was deeply grieved by the attack and his past terrors. His body convulsed with each sob. He knew the citizens shouldn't see him in such a state, but he could not move from where he was.
Post by Cordellia Spiritmight on May 7, 2013 1:56:00 GMT -5
Cordeliia watched as the hot tears flowed from his eyes, her eyes narrowed slightly. She cast a quick glance around the area to make sure none of the soldiers could see the prince crying. A sudden loud crack sounded, Jarvan's head would snap to the side as Cordellia's armored hand came in contact with his cheek. Cordellia looked down upon him as he knelt before her, "Man up. What kind of Demacian cries when he looses a battle, what kind of man is broken in one battle?!" She grabbed his shoulder and shook him, "Have the enemy already broken the prince?! The same man that slew a dragon? The same man that stood toe-to-toe with The Tactician and survived?"
She knelt in front of him at eye level, forcing him to look her in the eye, "Jarv, you gotta stand up. Demacia didn't fall, she didn't kneel down in defeat, just look." Cordellia gestured to the soldiers clearing away the rubble, the soldiers, still bloodied and bruised yet still working and standing strong, "Everyone has lost someone, yet they don't cry. They stand with determination and continue to aid their country, what are you doing on your knees?"
She then paused, her eyes grew wide for a moment before she smiled, "A wife? I leave for a month, and look at what happens. Little Jarv grew up."
Post by The Half Dragon on May 8, 2013 23:14:12 GMT -5
A bleak outcome. Not many survivors. What was left of her Elite Guard? The smell of burnt flesh and ash were frequent to Shyvana, but here... no. Here, it was different. An overwhelming stench. The Shadow Isles still prevalent even after the impact. The remnants of her defense were nearly untraceable. The bowl shaped battleground seemed an all too easy stand for her guard. But they lost many.
Flames originating from Shyvana's other form stood as tall as the walls of themselves, mapping where the dragon fought. Struck by exhaustion, Shyvana fell onto her knees, stretching her neck backwards towards the sky. She panted. What was left of her guard cheered valiantly. She felt it was not enough. It's never enough.
Shyvana gazed toward the city. Although the west walls of Demacia were barely breached by the enemy, she couldn't help but ponder what the fate of the Crown Prince was. The guard tower stood tall, riddled with what seemed to be dark arrows emitting black smoke. The gate nearly untouched. From a tactical perspective, it was well defended. From Shyvana's, this was an immediate loss.
She paused and knelt up after her respite before taking a step back to survey her flank. "No..." the half-dragon's hushed heated breath broke the cool atmosphere. "Demacia.." Her gauntlets shielded her face from embarrassment, covering what now was dripping from a mix of sweat and tears. Her gauntlets collided with the rubble once she let go. "Gaaah... Jarvan.. Why position me at such an effortless post..?" Her blood boiled with rage and concern.
The hidden battleground where Shyvana fought did not compare to this wasteland. Rubble, corpses, indescribable structures of this war lay bare. Without haste, Shyvana transformed into a dragon - swiftly searching for Jarvan while in the skies. Effortlessly, the half-dragon sighted her valorous ally accompanied by two others. One a monkey and one a slim, armored female figure. She reformed as a human beside a small group of soldiers who were still in awe even after witnessing her transformation countless times in battle. Groggy from exhaustion, Shyvana continued forward.
As she approached Jarvan, memories began re-materializing in her mind. Her father's murderer, Jarvan's swift, passionate actions and the final blow. A warm breeze brought her back to reality, stumbling right into the Prince himself. Caressing his left shoulder, Shyvana whispered with the rest of her strength, "J-Jarvan... I have failed.. I'm s-sorry." Her dragon blood could not sustain the pressure she experienced.
Jarvan had accepted the offering of food. It wasn't much, and would surely not feed everyone. But he hoped it would help at least. Wukong rubbed his face and drew in a deep breath as he worked to recompose himself. He had never met the woman before, so his green eyes settled upon her to take her in more fully. Listening, he quickly gathered that they were close. It was good to see more faces, even if they were fit with despair at this very moment.
"Every mistake is a lesson." Wukong said to Jarvan, "You can still be a good king, Prince Jarvan." He folded his arms over his chest, looking more the warrior sage then the playful monkey everyone knew him to be. "Look at those you saved. Look at the people giving their everything right now. They still have hope that the city will prosper and that Demacia will prevail no matter what happens. It's a daunting task, but it's one worth every bit of heart and soul." He emphasized by pressing his hand against his chest where his stone heart beat with a powerful energy. He smiled reassuringly to the Prince, hoping to help ease his pain.
Shyvanna would likely hear his words as well. He gave her a similar smile, hoping to reassure of the hope that still lingered in the many who survived. Slowly his arms returned to a folded position across his chest, looking between the three with a small nod.
Post by prophetthevoid on May 9, 2013 21:58:45 GMT -5
Through all the chaos of the battle, the blessings of the gods above gave them the ability to keep their church standing. The church was littered with holes from battle, some of the roof torn completely as the sun rolled in atop of them through the stained glass windows. Though... One stained glass window was missing, taken off it's display. What kind of heathen would steal a stained glass window?
Though this mattered not to the young man who stood amongst the priests. His dark scruffy hair was now combed and well kept, and his usual cowl was gone, revealing his face. Though, the only thing odd about this normal looking priest was his light blue irises. That's right, with utmost care of sneaking into Demacia via void portals, and stealing some of the robes there, Malzahar had disguised himself as a priest. His usual glowing eyes were turned off in a sense. They didn't glow, they showed his true eyes, and with the cowl and hood gone, no one could point him out as none had ever seen his face. Malzahar stood amongst the priest, watching the Demacians grieve over the newly built graves and coffins with their loved ones resting in eternal peace inside of them. So much bloodshed and death, it was a shame that it wasn't Void that had done the deed...
The priests spoke, reciting prayers from their holy book. They all took their time, ending their talks with an "amen,"but soon it was Malzahar's turn to speak. He walked over to the podium, resting his hands on them as he opened his mouth to speak. "Brothers and Sisters. The past week has been filled with death, horror, and sorrow. I cannot apologize enough for those who lost loved ones in this battle. We must stick together in these dark days, and do our best to renew this city in the name of our gods." He said. For now, he played the act, pretending that he cared for their losses, when in retrospect, he didn't in the slightest bit. The Demacians began to hold their hands in prayer, but Malzahar's face began to turn into one of worry. "Though I fear, that in these times, our gods may not be able to grant us enough power." The Demacians looked up to him, their brows furrowing in the thought of such abandonment. Though it did make some wonder... Where were their gods during this horrible attack on their people. Whispers spread amongst the crowd as Malzahar put out his hands. "Worry not my brothers and sisters, for I have a simple solution." His voice became slightly more serious, as he set his hands on the podium. "We must make our journey to apotheosis." Now, the whispers became small talks of confusion, excitement, and fear. The heads turning to each other to heart their opinions. One man spoke out to the Prophet. "How do you expect us to do that? Why would our gods take us in when they didn't help us?" Malzahar listened to him carefully. Yes.. Let your curiosity grow mortal... Malzahar opened his mouth to say, "I know what I'll say may sound insane, but in order to perform apotheosis, we must make the initiative. We must make our journey to the sands of the Shurima.
We must travel to Icathia, and perform apotheosis amongst the Void."
His voice echoed into the minds of the crowd, a little seed of his persuading words of the Void sinking into them. They all looked confused, turning to each other in shock, as gasps were heard. Even the priests eyed him curiously as he spoke, one walking up to him. "Ralzham, be careful as to what you speak." He said to what he thought was a new priest. Malzahar looked at his fellow priest, pouring a putting out a hand to reassure him. "Trust me Feather Kiln. I know what I say." He turned back to the crowd hushing them to calm them down. "Look at the champion Kassadin Mt brothers and sisters. See how he is powered with the Void, able to travel fast distances across the land, yet the insanity of the Void does not harm him. If he can do it, us strong-willed Demacians SURELY can!" He said with a tone of pride. Some Demacians turned to each other, nodding slightly in small approval. Though some still felt weary about the whole thing. "My friend, desperate times call for desperate measures, and after the League had arrived so late to help us, we must make sure we have means of defending ourselves! We cannot sit there while enemies crush our walls, waiting on the summoners to lift a finger, no, in the name of those above us in the grand heavens, we must stand with great power!" More Demacians began to nod in agreement, even a priest nodded slightly when the others weren't looking.
Whatever Malzahar was trying to instill within them, no doubt about it it wouldn't lead to good things.
Jarvan felt a familiar sting on his cheek as his cousin slapped him. Her armored hand left his cheek red and welts began to form. Even though he was struck, he needed it to bring him back into reality. He quickly stood up and rubbed any tears off of his face. He cleared his throat. "Thanks." The citizens can't see their prince like this, he must be their anchor. They can't see him crack like this, he will have to grieve in solitude.
The Prince shook his head at Shyvana when she said it was her fault. "No I will take responsibility for the battle, none of this was your fault. I was the commander of his defense, so the burden rests on me." He then gave her a reassuring slap on the shoulder. "I'm glad you survived." He then turned his attention back to Wukong.
He nodded after Wukong was finished speaking. "Yes, I am all the people have, so I must be a good king. My father was kept safe, and a good amount of people still live. Demacia will come back from this." He was starting to get his confidence back. Rebuilding Demacia would be hard, but it could be done. He will be known as the king who defended the city from the Shadow Isles.
Jarvan gave a slight grin at Cordellia's teasing. "Ha! The womanizer finally settled down, shocking isn't it?" Even through what has happened, thinking of his wife made him happy. "She is wonderful, I'm lucky to have her. I would like you to meet her."
Post by Cordellia Spiritmight on May 10, 2013 6:13:34 GMT -5
Cordellia smirked as her cousin grinned, glad to see him not so... Pathetic. She looked to Shyvana and raised an eyebrow wondering how on earth one could blame losing a whole battle on themselves. She frowns a little though her eyes growing serious as she looked back to Jarvan,
"Jarv, I think it's time to call together the heads of the main houses, we need to think of a way to defend against an invasion more effectively. The assault on the Freljord by the void is just showing that the nations have grown weak under the leagues protection."
She placed a hand on the back of her neck and glanced at Wukong briefly before looking back to Jarvan, she was curious who the Monkey-King was actually loyal to, perhaps he would come to Demacia's aid if they were in trouble again, he had seen the destruction and pain caused. Maybe he would be able to help stop such ruin in the future. "Demacia needs to stand tall as a military powerhouse once more, maybe even call in a few friends from Piltover to help with the rebuild? Help us build more effective means to defend ourselves."
Her serious look faded, a small smile returned to her face as she seemed to have an idea, "I'd love to meet the woman who claimed my cousins heart. Where is she?"
Post by The Half Dragon on May 11, 2013 6:01:38 GMT -5
Shyvana reacted lightly to the gesture on her shoulder with partial content. Still... Feeling responsible for the battlefield she had no part of, Shyvana spoke lightly so that only the Crown Prince himself would hear, "Look at this... destruction.. If I were...- my guard were to have been stationed on this frontline.. maybe.." She held her tongue. Tears filled her eyes, fury boiled within Shyvana, radiating hues of crimson. No... Immediately she composed herself. This was not the time to linger in failure. She was taught - Hope, no matter how bleak, should not be taken lightly, but instead rejoiced upon. Stand tall Shyvana. You are dragon-kin. Exemplify your kind. Inspire the humans. Her father's words strolled across her thoughts.
She leaned off of Jarvan's golden, shimmering shoulderplate, now coated with searing liquid, and spoke softly to Jarvan, "I'm... glad you're alive." Shyvana then glanced over at the woman who gave a strong presence of will. The Half-Dragon's somber expression, contrasting alongside her vibrant crimson eyes, fixated itself onto the the armor clad lady. The woman issued a stern look after suggesting an assembly with the main houses of Demacia. Shyvana promptly recalled the maiden's identity. Cordellia Spiritmight. The shining example of might and perseverance beneath Demacia's ranks. Cordellia's astounding rise in renown piqued Shyvana's interest during her own initial induction to Jarvan's Elite Guard. Spiritmight's swift progress stirred trivial envy within the Half-Dragon... but that was far behind her. Shyvana's lips formed a familiar half-smile toward Cordellia, a genuine gesture.
The familiar figure... what was his name..? The name Wukong struck her mind. Ahh...The Monkey King. A superb warrior. Well known, to her knowledge. Shyvana has been forever eager to witness his combat prowess. Grateful of his presence, given the Shadow Isle forces return, she returned a soft grin and nod.
Cordellia regarded Piltover service for assistance. Shyvana was not familiar with the city and its denizen Piltovians... only through a myriad of tales concerning Runeterra amongst Demacians and Jarvan himself educated her of such a haven. She once delved the Great Library of Demacia and encountered images of Piltovian technology and the city itself. The etched grand structure residing in the center still fresh in her mind. "I... agree with Cordellia." Hesitant words escaped her lips, though she kept an eager expression. She loosened her gauntlets to compensate her uneasiness. "These Piltovians she speaks of may offer considerable technologies for defense. Surely we can-"
Shyvana's somber look returned once Cordellia mentioned Jarvan's courtship. A tinge of fury stimulated her being. Red aura emitted from her skin. He is content. Lady Marabelle is a wonderful noblesse. They are happily wed. The Half Dragon gasped, her skin faded back to its natural color except slightly moist. Her stance became glaringly awkward - right foot ahead of the other, with her right hand clutching the left. Finally, she panted, "...rebuild.."
Post by The Iron Ambassador on May 13, 2013 2:00:06 GMT -5
The events of the invasion had taken it's toll on everyone in Demacia, but most Champions had still survived without major injuries. Poppy had not been as lucky. She would be unable to fight for a while, because her whole left arm from the shoulder to the fingertips was broken. It could probably easily be healed by the summoner magic, but it felt too... unnatural to her.
So, she walked through the streets of Demacia, her left arm wrapped in position and forced to stay still in order to let the bones fix naturally.
The City would recover, the Demacian people would not be crushed by a single attack. Justice, would find it's way. However... work would be needed, and Poppy walks around the city observing the people working to repair the city and it's walls. But then... a rather unusual scene. Prince Jarvan and lady Shyvana, talking with a figure that seemed to be Wukong, the Monkey King. But what would he be doing in Demacia? Only one way to find out.
She starts walking towards the small gathering of champions, taking her time since there was no rush today for her. Everything was taken care of at the Embassy so she could focus on not breaking her arm further.
Post by Vincent Fortier "Skywatcher" on May 13, 2013 14:04:49 GMT -5
Vincent had survived the invasion from the Shadow Isles, he looked around him. There was death everywhere he looked, crumbled buildings, corpses of the undead and demacians where laying all over the place. He felt a bit sad but shrugged it off, he had to start helping with the cleanup.
He looked up a street and saw a group of champions standing there, he could see Jarvan, Shyvana and someone who looked like a monkey, he didn't pay too much attention to them and began carrying away the dead that was the closest to him.
Jarvan nodded at his cousin when she suggested calling forth a meeting. "That is a great idea cousin. I will send word to the needed houses." Demacia needed to be united, especially after the attack. "Yes, we also need to send word to our friends at Piltover and Bandle city. Their technology and manpower will help us rebuild faster."
The prince flinched as his cousin mentioned meeting his wife. She was gone, kidnapped by the isles. He was in denial though. He kept thinking to himself that she was taking a long walk. His one and only love being stolen from him was the worst outcome imaginable. He couldn't bring himself to say what happened to her, so he said the least possible. "She is not currently here at the moment. Your meeting will have to wait."
He then quickly turned away from everyone. He allowed his face to contort into one of misery for just a few seconds. He took this time to silently grieve for the loss of his wife. After those few precious seconds, he turned back around to continue to speak with the group.
Jarvan addressed Shyvana with the respect needed of a comrade in arms. "I've been in many battles and slain countless foes, none have been capable of ending me yet." He didn't notice her inner battle however. He was too wrapped up in his problems to notice anyone else. It also didn't help that he was unaware of the feelings she had for him.
The prince noticed his ambassador approach the group. He waved at her in greeting. He then noticed she was injured, with her arm in a sling. "I see you got your fair share of combat Poppy."
Welcome to Maelstrom, Original Characters, Summoners and Champions alike. We are a divergent setting roleplay forum for the ever-popular MOBA by Riot, League of Legends. This means we are based in Riot canon, but your characters' actions can have a real, lasting impact on the world. Together, the Maelstrom community endeavors to bring the League of Legends setting and characters to life through collaborative storytelling and meaningful development. We welcome you along for the ride.
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