Opposing Oblivion

As the Voidwalker materialized in their midst, the summoners fell silent, folding their hands beneath their sleeves. In perfect unison they stepped back, bowed in respectful greeting and seemed to meld into the shadows: living decor vaguely illuminated by the dying light of the runic circle. The Master Tactician watched Kassadin rise, his fiery gaze as shrewd and even as ever.

"I have," he rasped. "And I am ever-so-grateful you have heeded my invitation." He tongued the space between his molars, silent for a moment as he took in the scene. The Voidwalker's robes were dusted with snow, which had already begun to melt in the warmth of the Noxian summer. "I sincerely hope I've not interrupted anything...?" Luminous crimson eyes met with Kassadin's yellow, primed to discern whatever those otherworldly orbs made evident.

"Good," the Grand General replied in characteristic cold civility. "That I do." He turned sideways to allow the Voidwalker to join him on his uneven march from the room. The summoners remained in perfect stillness and silence, living accessories to the scene, as their leader strode towards the door, waited for his guards to draw it open, and crossed the threshold.

The Master Tactician did not cast a glance over his shoulder, assuming Kassadin had the presence of mind to follow just behind. "The Void is encroaching," he rasped. "to state the obvious." Cane, step, step, he went, down the cavernous corridors of Darkbourne Hold, his entourage in tow. "I mean to fight it. And I have called you here because you, of all beings on this plane, possess valuable insight into its means and ends."

Swain paused just before a heavy oak door. Again, a Raedsel guard strode forth to open it, revealing the great library beyond. "The first step towards defeating one's enemy," the general growled over the creak of ancient hinges, "is understanding it."

The slightest smirk--though indiscernible to his guest--tugged up one corner of the general's jagged maw behind his shroud. "I should think the League has proven itself veritably..." he paused before the heavy oaken door that lead to one of the many libraries of Darkbourne Hold. One of his ever-present Raedsel guards strode forth to draw it open for the pair. "In over its head."

He limped over the threshold to a grand room lined with shelves housing books from floor to domed ceiling. In the center of the cavernous room there sat a table strewn with maps and charts, the ink upon some of which seemed to glow purple in the half-light. The Raedsel drew out one chair for Kassadin and one for Swain and took up their posts upon each wall of the room.

"If you will," croaked the Master Tactician, extending a trembling hand towards the chair designated for Kassadin, inviting him to sit. The general's form seemed strangely sunken since the last time the two had perhaps met on the fields. He strode unevenly to his own seat, shoulders hunched, his hellish bird ruffling her feathers. "If anyone will actively prepare against the Void, Kassadin, it will be Noxus. Never shall I let my people fall prey to an unexpected attack, as did Freljord."

Slowly, arduously, the slightest flicker of a grimace darkening his weathered features, the Grand General settled himself into his chair at the head of the table. A skeletal hand extended to slide a diagram of Valoran towards the Voidwalker. Upon it lines in glowing purple ink marked Icathia, Freljord, Ionia, the Kumungu and Valoran's middle point. Beside each point, various numerals were scrawled, Icathia's the highest, as though to indicate a measurement system of sorts.

"Presumably." Swain met the Voidwalker's gaze with his own luminous red, unblinking. He did not immediately address Kassadin's curiosity, but allowed his guest time to peruse the document, withered hands folded on the table. The weight of their impending conversation hung in the air between them for a few moments before Swain finally spoke.

"As I'm certain you're aware, there is a particular frequency combination given off in places where Void activity is most prevalent, entirely unique to sub-planar energies. It is present in small quantities around yourself, around Malzahar--and in much larger quantities in places where the seams of this world are weakening." The Grand General spoke authoritatively, his mask of impassivity unbroken. "I've readings being taken everywhere I've troops--and I'm sure I needn't tell you that energy levels are rising. Exponentially so."

Swain paused in his address and dropped his gaze as a series of hacking coughs erupted from him. Out of habit, he balled his fist before his shroud and turned his head. After several moments, when he had steadied himself, he resumed his speech as though nothing had happened. "I need your help, your insight. I have numbers and coordinates, but I do not know at what point they indicate impending invasion. I do not know the means and methods of my enemy." He frowned, pursed his lips behind his shroud.

"And I do not like to be uninformed. Let me fight with you, Kassadin. I need to know how."

The Grand General sat attentively, blood-red eyes affixed upon his guest, raptly absorbing every word. At the conclusion of Kassadin's speech, he nodded once, his age-lined face stern with purpose. "My thoughts exactly," he croaked. "I'd planned to arrange a conference with the provincial Elders of Ionia regarding our..." Swain paused, the glow of his eyes intensifying under the graveness of circumstance. "Mutual enemy."

His hands unfolded, fingertips pressing together in a contemplative star before him as he sat back in his chair. "Of course they will be hesitant to trust one another--and, indeed, my nation." The Master Tactician's gaze fell briefly to the polished table, ablaze with the flames of machination. "That is why..." To punctuate the importance of his statement, he turned his luminous stare back upon his guest. "I would request that you accompany me to address them. Perhaps they will heed your warnings over the intransigent squabbling of provinces and nations. Your presence will serve to awaken them to the validity of the threat."

"A single thing more," the Master Tactician answered without pause. He did not rise after his guest, his withered body hunched against the cushions of his high-backed chair. "A gift of sorts that will benefit us both." With a two-fingered wave of his skeletal hand, he beckoned one of his silent guardsmen forth. The armored man bore a black box, which he set upon the table before Kassadin. "Open it," the general commanded.

The Raedsel did as he was told. Gauntleted hands lifted the container's lid to expose a strange, pocket-watch shaped device. He stepped back into the shadows and stood at attention that the Grand General and his guest might continue their discourse. "With the help of Viktor, we have isolated the frequency given off by the planar disruptions known as Void portals." The Grand General's piercing gaze bored into Kassadin for any indication of the Voidwalker's reaction to this news. His voice dropped an octave, a low gravelly whisper to emphasize the gravity of his request. "It isn't perfect, but it's the best we have at our disposal--for the time being. If you will keep it close whither your travels take you, the data gathered will aid us in constructing a clearer picture of our enemies' methods, their patterns of movement.

"In predicting their future plans." Swain's jaw extended as he tongued the space between his molars. After a few moments' silence, he rasped, "In the name of opposing Runeterra's greatest enemy, Kassadin, I hope you will acquiesce my request."