Prince Jarvan Lightshield IV stood on the deck of the Demacian ship. This ship was destined to the meeting place between Demacia and the Shadow Isles, which was within neutral waters and about a two-week trip. They were well prepared for their journey, with a surplus of food and other supplies. Besides the crew, there was a handful of men and women the prince trusted.
As Jarvan stood at the bow and looked out into the deep blue waters, he couldn't help but be troubled. This meeting was meant to bring peace between the two nations, to prevent any more lives from being lost. But the Isles had a valuable asset, his wife. What would they make him sacrifice in order to get her back? What if they insisted they keep her? That was unacceptable. He would have his wife back, even if it meant more war.
The prince rubbed his face, truly feeling the stress of the situation he was in. So many things could go wrong, he could lose everything here. But, he was determined to emerge from this encounter victorious.
Demacia was strong enough to see through this. Justice will prevail.
Post by theseneschal on Jun 30, 2013 23:46:07 GMT -5
Xin remained a short distance behind the Prince as the ship set voyage upon the vast expanse of the Conquerors Sea to an area marked on a map he had time to glimpse over. His mind played at the strategies that could be enacted should something go wrong, not trusting the fact the Isles had summoned the Prince to such an isolated place. But on top of that, under the guise of peace? He thought it nonsense.
This was surely a ruse. A trick to bring Demacia further down. Xin wouldn't put it passed the Isles to attempt such treachery after their surprise assault upon Demacia back in April. He leaned back against the front mass allowing the wind to toss around the long ponytail tied high against the back of his head. His eyes upon the Prince for a moment, but soon drifted away to the sky. At least the weather seemed to be in their favor. The wind was pushing out to the north to northwest giving them a good angle for which the boat would be steered. His arms folded, and for the time he would remain silent, thinking on how to deal with certain situations should they arise. And perhaps - if he might see the woman who had sacrificed her life for his.
Outwardly he showed no remorse for it, but inwardly it bothered him. He had been blind to it for all those years. He shook off the thought and let a sigh escape him, focusing on more important matters.
Last Edit: Jun 30, 2013 23:50:00 GMT -5 by theseneschal
Post by The Ruined King on Jun 30, 2013 23:49:26 GMT -5
5th July, arrival.
The Ruined King stood tall at the head the ship as is it sailed through the water, his feet shoulder length apart planted upon the rotting brown wood. They had no crewmen, no one steering the great ship as it plowed through the waters. He could feel the presence of the living, their souls and the warmth they radiated were like suns burning brightly in the darkness. The undead that accompanied the Ruined King would feel it too. Azazel, Hecarim and the creature known as Nocturne were all present upon the ship. Tattered sails billowing, pushed by a phantom wind that none could feel continued to propel the ship through the waters.
Looking out over to the ocean, the Demcians would see clear blue sky and the bright sun reflecting off the calm deep blue waters stretching on for what seemed like forever. A light breeze would be felt gently blowing across the deck, all seemed to be completely peaceful, no sign of the Shadow Isles, yet.
Upon the horizon, the contrast began to darken, a great thick black rolling cloud of darkness emerged, rapidly moving toward the Demacian ship. Tendrils of what looked to be black smoke stretched out toward before the cloud of darkness, snaking along the water's surface as though testing the area before whatever lay beyond the cloud approached.
As the cloud approached, a sickening coldness would envelop the crewmen of the Demacian ship, a foreboding sense of despair would grip at the mortals, crushing their hearts and bringing about a strange sense of hopelessness. The black cloud would peel back revealing the ship it had been obscuring, the huge powerful obsidian armored figure standing at the helm, its eyes blazing like cyan torches as it looked upon the Demacian ship. The Ruined King himself, seen for the first time by mortal eyes off the Isles in centuries. The figure was at least, 6'4. His bulky heavy armor making it hard to distinguish if he looked more alive than dead under it.
His power could be felt in great waves, washing across the Demacian ship increasing the sense of despair that had now coiled about the hearts of the crewmen. His very existence was an insult to life, at a constant war with death itself to keep it from claiming his soul that he had tore out while dying. The ship's rapid speed slowed, eventually coming to a complete stop. The King would wait until the neutral party arrived before moving, his gaze would remain upon Demacian's as if gauging them. Wondering just how they thought this would turn out.
I am the one who defied death. I am the one he fears. I am the on he can not take. One sweep of my hand and your nations will fall. Come for me you worms. You will all bow before my legions or be broken beneath us as we march upon your cities.
Post by Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield on Jul 1, 2013 0:10:23 GMT -5
Upon the ship wrapped in frayed black robes near at the left side of the ship, a smaller, more slender form stood with her head bowed and her fingers pinched at the front of the cloak to keep the hood from flying off her head. She felt the ever constant chill as it assaulted her soul, lingering from the Isle's relentless taint as a part of it sailed forward towards the meeting place. If not for the chill, her expression would be touched with more concern over what might transpire. Knowing there were dangers lingering about the whole concept worried her even more, especially concerning Azazel.
Teal eyes lifted to watch after the King as he stood at the head of the ship, seeming to not be bothered by the cold wind as it struck from the ocean against the ships body. The phantom wind a driving force, sending it forward completely seeming to ignore the natural currents as they swept along the seemingly endless surface of water. She had told him to be careful just as she had Jarvan. She really wanted things to go well. But the outcome was still one to be a little afraid of. Would it end badly?
She searched the edges of the horizon for ships not from the Isles. Specifically Demacia. And when the ship started to slow, she slowly uncurled her fingers and began to step only to pause at the weight of the chains that kept her movements sluggish and impaired. Her head lowered again, remaining silent upon the deck, waiting for her chance to be free of the shackles and given the opportunity to help them sort out their differences.
Post by The Shadow of War on Jul 1, 2013 18:08:33 GMT -5
Hecarim was found in his usual place on the ship, just behind the king. Looking out onto the ocean for the Demacian ship, it wasn't exactly Hecarim's "style" to be traveling by boat for these supposed talks of peace, but his fellow islanders couldn't travel on water like he could.
And now as they approached the Demacian ship Hecarim's grip on his halberd tightened, the spirit-fire that surrounded him now burned softly. The time for negotiations was approaching, and he was prepared. Should his king order him to action Hecarim was ready for anything here on these dark waters.
Post by The Might of Demacia on Jul 2, 2013 0:36:20 GMT -5
The Might of Demacia had stationed himself on the ship's deck, watching the crew busy themselves with keeping the ship sailing smoothly. It had been an incredibly long two weeks of travel: a fortnight where Garen had to content himself with sitting on deck watching the sea with no chance of action, watching his best friend torment himself as they sailed towards no-man's land to parley, to come to a compromise, with the enemy who had spilled the blood of so many of his countrymen. It was an unacceptable situation that they would have to make acceptable.
The invasion of Demacia by the Shadow Isles was, as far as he was concerned, unprovoked aggression that would not, could not go unpunished, and if the destruction of their undead and their monsters did not phase the powers that be of the godforsaken place, then he would have to break something far more fundamental to them. It could not happen yet, but one day the Dauntless Vanguard would crush them.
"Dark clouds starboard!" The sailor in the crow's nest cried out just before the effects of the darkness hit. Garen rose to his feet, a hand gripping tightly on the hilt of his sword even as the sailors slowed to a crawl, barely able to continue. He almost shivered in his thickly padded armour, the cold and the impending fear of doom crawling up to him seemingly from out of nowhere.
Even if it seemed as though there would never be a happy moment again in his life, even as his lips were chewed sore while he held firm, Garen Crownguard would not tremble. He was the Might of Demacia, a man who was known far and wide for his unyielding spirit, a man who had weaponised courage and made it his greatest shield. The Shadow Isles could bring their worst.
"Stand tall, men! Are you going to let your enemies see you cowering in fear?! These monsters who have harmed our Shining City, who have killed our friends and family?! Are you going to let our prince see you afraid to stand together?!" The Captain of the Guard called out, punching the nearest metal surface with whitened knuckles, a resounding crash ringing through the ship alongside his voice. It would not be enough, not when even a champion like himself still felt some fear in his heart, but it would help.
Post by The Eternal Nightmare on Jul 2, 2013 9:28:56 GMT -5
As ship drifted out of the black fog Nocturne's form became visible, floating just a ways behind the Ruined King and Hecarim. The wall directly behind the Nightmare had various slash marks etched into it, all courtesy of the creature itself. A peace meeting... with the Demacians they retreated from... unthinkable. The Nightmare's form rippled in anger at the mere thought.
As the Demacian ship sailed into view Nocturne let out a vicious snarl, slashing at the wall yet again. It had every intent to attack the ship's passengers the moment they drew close... but no. It would wait. But if peace were to be established between the Shadow Isles and Demacia, the former would make a new enemy this day.
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."
Post by The Half Dragon on Jul 2, 2013 21:15:37 GMT -5
On the starboard side of the ship near the helm, Shyvana had her arms crossed on the smooth wooden railing. Her tall comparison only allowed her to arch forward her chest, her hips following by being slightly extended back. Two weeks felt like ages to the Half Dragon. Thoughts of the past events that happened lingered her mind. A few weeks prior, she had searched for Jarvan with a small group, and just like that - no hesitation for his beloved. "hmm..." Shyvana set her elbow on the railings that held her chest, her hand placed on her cheek. A tinge of rose set around her nose, spreading to her cheeks. Her expression became a tad frustrated, eyes almost closed. She had wondered if Quinn's status remained safe back in Demacia. "Blasted human..." She mumbled to herself. "Why is she so frequent in my mind..?" How she longed to have a conversation with her, even how whimsical it seemed. It reminded her of when she used to think of The Prince often - months after her rescue. That has changed...
A sudden change of atmosphere brought her face back to its original tone. It perked up, assessing the situation. Shyvana tilted her head up to dark, ominous clouds looming over the horizon. Various shouts could be heard around the deck. One voice belonging to one of her steadfast allies, Garen. The resilience of her dragon blood could only do so much in this situation. This... feeling of anguish was not something she wanted to relive. The same feeling that overcame her during her father's passing. But she has grown strong. Although the sorrow remained in her heart, she would be prepared for the incoming conflicts ahead. This was her duty now. Her feelings of doubt would have to wait. The Half Dragon took a short glance toward the Prince before looking out to the gloomy seas, he was standing at the far end - on the bow. She parted her lips to hush out a few words, "We'll do our best... Jarvan."
The two week-long trip seemed to have taken years. Each day that passed brought more anxiety and unrest upon the prince. He hardly slept the whole way there. Not only was sleeping in hammock on the ever rocking ocean outrageously uncomfortable, his unrest didn't help either. He would often toss and turn around in his hammock, only to give up and go out onto the deck to gaze at the stars. On nights where sleep would find him, he would just see images of his wife torn apart and Demacia burning, which would make him bolt upright and almost fall out of his hammock.
Jarvan stood weary at the bow of the ship. His lack of sleep was getting to him, and he looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he had aged a bit. As he saw the dark ship poke out from the horizon, he felt his gut churn and tie into knots. He really didn't want to have to sit down with this "king" and make peace with him. The guy had sent an unprovoked attack to his home, and is keeping his wife as a trophy. The prince wanted to just run this guy through and take Belle home with him. But, for the sake of his wife and his people he would at least try to sort this out in a manner that didn't require more lost lives.
Prince Jarvan Lightshield IV stood tall and proud. No matter what he felt, he had to stand above those who were unjust. All that was needed now was the ship provided by the League.
Post by theseneschal on Jul 6, 2013 5:40:24 GMT -5
The Seneschal had hardly moved. When he did sleep, it was standing top deck leaning against a mast and for only short periods of time. The crew new better then to disturb him if he had fallen still where he leaned. Chances were he was resting.
As the crew called about a ship in the distance, his eyes open and his form pushed off the mast to approach the front of the ship. Hazel eyes rested forward upon the ominous beast of a ship nearing them. A deepening frown set upon his face, feeling an unrest settle in. This whole thing felt wrong.
Xin turned to Jarvan and bowed his head, "My Leige." He spoke, "When the League's ship arrives, do you wish one of us to accompany you on board?" He wanted to be certain of the Prince's decision to bring one of his Champions along with him. He was the protector of the Lightshield family, and of Demacia, after all. He wanted to be certain that should things go wrong, the Prince would be protected properly.
Post by The Spider Queen on Jul 7, 2013 22:21:17 GMT -5
Elise. Hated. Sailing. The movement of the ship made her so ill and this ship ride was taking forever! At least it wasn't as bad as before her transformation. The whole undead thing helped a little with the sickness but not nearly enough for her liking. The company wasn't the greatest ether. Save her lord of course. He was to busy with preparations to give her the attention she needed however so she was stuck with the dead heads or so she liked to call them. Never to there faces though. That is what separated her from the justly named dead heads. They thought with there weapons it seemed instead of there heads. While they had there uses it was definitely not for there intellectual abilities.
She still wasn't sure why this was necessary. She still felt they had the upper hand. Jarvan wouldn't dare step out of line with his wife in there hands. Relax Elise, relax. Her lord had everything under control she was sure of it. He wouldn't just give in. Not him. Never.
Just as she was finishing her thought a annoyingly large wave made the ship (and her stomach) bob up and down. The nausea peeked again and she was running to the rail oblivious of her surroundings and emptying her stomach over the side. When she was finished she turned to go back inside when to her horror she realized she was next to her lord. Elise was never one to have nothing to say but in this instant she would make an exception.
Post by The Ruined King on Jul 7, 2013 22:31:35 GMT -5
The King stood completely still, the great obsidian armored form simply staring at the prince with eyes that blazed like cyan torches. It was as though the burning eyes pierced right through the prince, any human that looked upon the beast of a man would feel fear strike at their hearts. Near paralyzing them out of fear if they dared look the Ruined King in the eyes. All they would see at first was the cyan spiritfire burning in place of his eyes, yet if they looked past the fire, they would see eyes that were the deep blue, dark and emotionless.
His attention was drawn away from the prince as a Elise rushed to the rail to empty the contents of her stomach over the side. His eyes move to look upon the Spider Queen, a slight flicker of amusement in his eyes that was quickly snuffed out by the emotionless, impassive gaze once more, "Something wrong?"
I am the one who defied death. I am the one he fears. I am the on he can not take. One sweep of my hand and your nations will fall. Come for me you worms. You will all bow before my legions or be broken beneath us as we march upon your cities.
Azazel stood near Belle, his thick black cloak drawn around himself with the hood obscuring his features. Wisps of black smoke slowly trailed from the cloak as the summoner waited for the time to act. Behind the hood Azazel was looking down upon Belle, his light blue/grey eyes studying her as she tugged against the chain. A smirk appearing on his lips, he believed none but Jarvan would know what was about to happen.
"Anxious? Afraid?" He questions her, his voice cold and detached. He looked toward the King, quietly murmuring, "Long live the king." The smile continued to tug at his lips.
Post by The Spider Queen on Jul 10, 2013 9:29:03 GMT -5
All Elise could manage was a stuttered "Y..yes. I'm fine. Must have been something ate." She then quickly walked off. Embarrassment was not something Elise enjoyed at all. Her emotional state went from annoyed to looking for something to vent on.
She walked around the ship trying to wipe the previous few moments permanently out of her memory when she noticed what should have been the perfect outlet. That silly human girl Belle. She didn't understand what could have happened between herself and her king. It had to be some sort of sorcery. It was the only explanation that didn't make her want to be ill again. Even the undead mage Azazel seemed to have been effected and he didn't like anyone. She hadn't even tried to use her feminine wiles on him. On the outside Azazel seemed to still seemed to hate and be disgusted by her but she could tell something was off.
She leaned against the rail and watched the interplay between the two. Her inner paranoia alarms were chiming and while the men seemed to be taken in by the girl she was not one to be softened by the damsel in distress routine.
Jarvan did not take his eyes off of the Shadow Isles' ship. He nodded after the Seneschal asked his question. "Yes. No matter what happens, you make sure my wife gets out safely. I know it goes against your duty, but her safety comes before my own." He meant what he said. Even though he was the only heir to the Lightshield line, you couldn't help but protect the one you love.
The prince did indeed feel The Ruined King's gaze. But, it only added onto his fury. He wouldn't let those tricks mess with his mind.
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