The Hidden Colony

She rubbed her eyes after a good night's sleep. A lock of hair was brushed away as she slowly opened those purple lined eyes as she sat up out of bed, wearing her tibbers footies. She slowly heading to a hextech shower, and began her morning routine. Within an hour or so, she was washed, awake, fed and clothed.

For another few hours, magical studies with her parents. For yet more, she was calmly meditating as she was constantly summoned for the day, the institute aided by Zilean's chronomancy, to make the time she was "instanced" out to hundreds of battlefields last only a few hours. Once that was over, she opened her eyes, rage wrath and fury glinting for only an instant before she re assumed her normal, child like facade.


Now, it was time to play.

She happily skipped up the spiral road to the portal house, a large building that held one way portals and the homestones for those who used them to get back, set to multiple locations in all hub areas of the known Runeterra. "Where to today..." She mumbled to herself, scratching her chin.

Thwoomp. Out of the portal and back into the colony. Now was time to head home for a bit, she supposed. She meandered around the upper spirals a bit before heading back down to the Manor at the bottom. Well, no, it was at the bottom, but was surrounded by the farms needed to feed so many colonists. Didn't take her too long, though. She'd grown up here after all.

March 1st, 23 CLE

The Voodoo Lands were a harsh and unforgiving place. Twin ranges of mountains acted as a physical barrier, a rain shadow, to moisture. The days were sweltering, and the nights absolutely frigid and unrelenting. Virtually no water of any sort graced these forgotten lands. Mirages danced through the air, giving rise to tales of dark magics and spectres, and thus, the name "Voodoo Lands" had been given to this place. Sinkholes and craters from ancient conflicts dotted the landscape wherever one would look. And yet, a lone traveler had made her way through these lands...

A brown hooded cloak whipped through the air behind her as the winds ravaged her form. A piece of cloth covered her face, and another covered her eyes with small slits in it from which to see in order to keep the blown sand from stealing away her vision. Baggy pants adorned her legs, and were bunched up under the boots on her feet. Wrappings of linens surrounded the tops and body of te boots in order to seal them away from sand. If not for the broken blade at her side, one would almost mistake Riven for an outlander of some sort, or a desert vagabond. The outfit she wore was gained by trading with a merchant coming through Morgron Pass. The trade? Several animal skins Riven had collected, as well as a small bit of service acting as a guard for his passage.

One could say what they wished about the Exile's social skills, but when it came to surviving by herself in a harsh land, and wandering, there were few with her set of abilities.

Even still, the harshness of the Voodoo Lands had taken its toll. Her water was all but gone, and she had eaten her last bit of food two days ago. She was far from death by starvation, but her water supply was what truly had her worried. With few plants to burn for fires, she had been forced to take shelter in some of the sinkholes and craters in order to hide away from the wind. She stood atop a rise in the uneven terrain, the only visible being for miles, and reached into her pack. She found what she was looking for, and pulled it free.

It was a small compass, though, a skilled observer would notice that it did not point north. In fact, it was a fairly simple device, and one that she had purchased from a small magic shop back at the Institute of War before taking her leave. The individuals that she sought were notorious for hiding themselves away, and separating from other people by as many means as possible. However, the very thing that made them respected, their dark and powerful magics, would be the very thing that Riven would use to find them.

The compass needle swiveled side to side before finally settling on a direction, the same direction she had been following for the past few days. Before her were sinkholes, as always. However, as she turned the compass on its side, the needle would wobble once more, pointing downward, and toward a particular spot. The Grey Order were a powerful sect of sorcerers and mages that had split from Noxus long ago during its last major political uprising. Mages would undoubtedly use their magics to hide their presence from the outside world. Illusions, cantrips, and all manner of other things would be set forth to cover the trail.

But the small compass that Riven held in her hand was no ordinary trinket. It detected magic.

One of the simplest spells for most mages to learn, cast upon a small object, would assist Riven in finding those that did not wish to be found. Even Anti-Magical auras in and of themselves would not prove troublesome, as their presence would cause the compass to detect nothing, meaning that Riven had indeed entered the correct area. That, and a great number of mages would be somewhat foolish to surround themselves with anti-magical barriers, else they risked causing their own spells to sputter.

After some time, Riven would reach the edge of one sinkhole in-particular. Placing her compass back in her bag, she would then stand and wait at the edge of the hole, neither making hostile motions, or making any signs of leaving and moving on. if anything was bound to gather the attention of the mages living here, it would be that sort of curious behavior...

Riven did not start as the other members of the order appeared from the surrounding area. To act as if threatened or worried would show weakness, and or give the impression that she was guilty of some kind of crime. They were acting in defense of their Order, to protect their families and way of life from an outsider. She was trespassing here, after all. Defense on her part would be unwise.

Riven turned to face the man who had appeared behind her, making sure to keep her gloved hands in the open and in view, so as not to alarm those around her. She slowly lifted a hand to the hood and cloth covering her face, and pulled them aside, revealing her eyes and her silvery-white hair. Anyone who was anyone would know who she was now, especially one as connected with the League as the man before her.

"I am simply an Exile in search of other Exiles..." She spoke calmly, looking into the eyes of the man standing some distance away from her. "Gregori Hastur, the Grey Warlock... I am Riven, former Captain of Fury Company, part of the Noxian 42nd Standard." She sighed. "I died in Ionia because of the blackness and corruption of Noxus, a corruption that still lingers to this day." She paused, allowing the man to digest what she'd said previously. "...It is a corruption that I wish to remove, and in the process, restore Noxus to its proud and honorable state..." She looked to either side of her, glancing at the other mages before returning her gaze to the man in front of her.

"That said...I believe we may have much to discuss, if you are willing..."

Riven watched as the mages shifted out of sight due to their magical abilities. For the moment, she took that to mean she had been given the right to enter the stronghold. As the man moved, Riven would turn to follow, matching his footsteps with her own. After all, he would know the way to go. She would not.

"Honestly, I know very little, and what I do know is from your daughter's status as a League Champion, and knowing her backstory from League Records."

Riven spoke calmly and evenly, honestly even. She had nothing to hide from these people, and honesty in this kind of a situation was absolutely necessary. If she wished for allies and for assistance, there was no better way. She was reminded of the history of these people that she had been able to gather as she followed behind the man known as the Grey Warlock. Their people had left Noxus during the last great shift in power, before Darkwill's time, and had settled in this place to escape political persecution, and to practice their dark and powerful magics.

Of course, the "dark arts" were effectively the antithesis of the "light arts." They were, as far as Riven was concerned, simply another form of magic, and were not something she disliked or hated on principle. She recalled, from her mostly lacking knowledge of magic, that even the most basic healing spells were derived from the "Necromancy" class, and that "Necromancy" was simply the school that dealt with the aspects of life AND death. She quietly mused how most "holy sorts" seemed to forget that simple classification. Convenient...

That understood, she felt almost as if Necromancy in and of itself was like Noxus. It was given a stigma of negativity simply because of how it was used by a few individuals. Healing the living and bringing the dead back to life were similar in nature, but could be corrupted for the foolish purposes of those greedy or cruel enough to do so. In the end, the actions of an individual were what caused them to be good or evil. Of course, Riven would rather have the life restored to her body than have it drained away and placed into a corpse, but most people would likely think the same way, she thought.

"We're both exiles from Noxus because our views seem to differ from that of the masses and the current and past leadership." She spoke as if the man was familiar with the league's knowledge that they had on file for his daughter. "It is because of that similarity that I've come all this way to meet with you."

Riven would nod and move to stand next to the man. The strange lighting that seemed to permeate the area was effective at illuminating it without being too over the top. This place seemed to be covered in illusion after illusion. No wonder they had been hidden away for so long. They protected their secrets and existence well. "Ready."

Riven felt the sensations running through her body. They were alien, strange, but not unexpected considering it was magic of some sort. The teleportation of the League always left some upsetting sensations in the pit of her stomach and made her somewhat dizzy. This was really not much different...

"What I would hope to gain are allies." Riven spoke as honestly as ever. "As outcasts we are divided, and yet, if combined, we can be something much stronger. Of course, should you refuse, I will leave you in peace. If I have learned anything from the follies of Noxus, forcing your will upon others is no way to make friends. Though, I would also hope you would be willing to hear me out before turning me away." She finished as the odd sensation came to a halt, and she looked around the room.

"Indeed you don't. But, I think you'll find that I have nothing to hide, for I have nothing left after what Noxus has become." She would then make her way to one of the uncomfortable chairs, which didn't seem that bad after days of walking through wasteland, and take a seat, waiting for the man to join her. "I suppose I'm at the mercy of your questions. I'll tell you whatever you want to know to the best of my ability."