Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Dec 30, 2013 21:54:11 GMT -5
The nightmares magic washed over Jarvan IV and the light was consumed. The fear started in his chest, a sudden jolt of terror that said "Look! Spin! Death may come from any direction, and you are blind!" in an instant burst. Memory served him, and Jarvan IV stared straight ahead with his lance tightly held. Somewhere in the fear Shyvana was roaring, and then he saw firelight rushing towards him.
A part of him said move aside, and he flinched to clear out of the dragons way until he saw the burning form clearer. Plates of armor gleamed through the darkness in the light of red flames licking from its jagged mouths. It was only a moment, but the prince leaned and lowered his lance again toward the centaur. Jarvan IV screamed in defiance, eyes set on the red hollows of a metal skull.
The lance connected with the creatures chest, hitting first the breastplate as it glanced down into the hollow maw of the creatures midriff. Slowed by the impact, Hecarim's body slid forward on the lance, his halberd glancing across Jarvan's shoulder. The charge connected in spite of his defense. Jarvan IV was ripped free from his weapon as Hecarim reared, both hooves connecting with the princes body.
Post by The Might of Demacia on Jan 1, 2014 21:22:47 GMT -5
At first, it was fine. Garen felt his heartbeat increasing, and he blamed it on the sprinting he was doing. Though, he started getting more... agitated. What was it? He felt a very shocking chill run down his spine as Nocturne's form slid through his armor. His voice echoed in his mind, and his eyes would dart back and forth as his sprint rolled into a jog. He still held onto Kiersta with a safe grip, though it wasn't as tight as his mind was focused elsewhere. Was he... afraid? His bewildered eyes, like a deer in headlights, would lock onto Kiersta's. Will he fail himself in protecting her? He saw her getting torn apart by Nocturne's blades, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
He began to doubt himself, for that moment, and he looked at Kiestra. "...Can you stop it?" he asked shakily.
Post by The Shadow of War on Jan 3, 2014 23:30:56 GMT -5
It was strange in what just occured between Hecarim and Jarvan in the centuar's mind, he glanced down to see the lance in his chest. Yet he did not immediately react to it, there were no yelps or screams or even moans of pain that came out of Hecarim. Instead he took his halberd, which had just tasted the blood of Jarvan and forcefully planted it into the ice, he kept his eyes locked on Jarvan briefly after their scuffle and returned his eyes to that direction.
He still had a job to finish.
He took a step toward the prince who was sprawled onto the ice and found that the lance was making it difficult for him to walk properly, he gripped it tightly and pulled it out with a wince of what he believed to be pain but turned out to be annoyance and letting it fall onto the ice below him. Now that the toothpick was out of his chest he raised his front hooves high in the air and let them fall onto the prince.
The King knew he had struck true when he heard the roar of anguish erupt from the half-breed, again he gripped his sword knowing he had a few 'charges' left within the blade. He still could not see the physical form of Shyvana due to the darkness that swam about them, yet the fiery soul still burned brightly, defiantly before him. The soul itself began to flare as the dragon began to retaliate, quickly the King swung once more, before spinning upon his heel and crouching low to avoid as much as the fire as he could before his attack would strike her. The magic itself would cut through the flames splitting them briefy and distorting the air pushing the fire apart as it shot through the darkness toward Shyvana's throat. Once it at traveled through however, the flames would wash over the King's encased form, the conjured armor only capable of standing the heat for so long.
The Half-Dragon continued her fiery attack upon the undead King as he swung his blade once again. This time the attack came into her view earlier than before, the nightmare's paranoia made it hard to see. Otherwise the battle would have been a lot more different that it was at the moment. Barely dodging the attack Shyvana felt a piece of her armor getting cut in half by the magic.
Shyvana knew she could not stay stationary for much longer, or he'd eventually get in an attack that would be much harder to avoid, if possible. Canceling her flame the Half-Dragon lowered herself and buried her talons in the thick ice they all stood on. After a moment of gathering strength Shyvana leaped forward from her position and towards the two cyan balls of fire. Shyvana roared once again as she got airborne for the short distance. Should the King not move, he'd have one angry Half-Dragon in melee range to deal with.
Post by Dungeon Master on Jan 5, 2014 19:09:59 GMT -5
To his right, a figure wreathed in flame charging out of the darkness. There was a glint of golden armor and sound of metal wringing out as if struck, and the seneschal ran to action. Quick strides closed the distance between him and the flames, eyes straining to catch the movements of Hecarim. Where was the prince? A promise to keep, he pushed forward without fear.
Xin Zhao rushed the centaur, only making out the form of the prince lying on the ground at the last moment of his attack. His spear stabbed towards the creatures right flank in a flurry of blows. He ignored the flames, unrelenting in his assault, his twin tipped weapon striking with precision toward Hecarim's undefended hindquarter.
Post by The Ruined King on Jan 7, 2014 2:15:00 GMT -5
The Ruined King stood his ground as Shyvana lunged through the darkness toward him, his armor still smouldering with heat from the burst of flame that washed over him. Flaming eyes unblinking stared at the half-breed.
Now within melee range, and being in such a large form, a cruel smile twisted his lips behind the helm, there was no way she could realistically evade the next two charges from his attacks. In quick succession his sword would create two arcs, from left shoulder to right hip than curving it upwards, two waves of dark magic would erupt from the blade and slice through the air toward Shyvana depleting the last of the charges within his sword, "Your rage will be your undoing, half-breed." His voice was cold and unwavering before the dragon.
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 Kiersta Mandrake on Jan 7, 2014 3:20:09 GMT -5
Kiersta’s mouth hardened in concentration: the man’s foolish notions of chivalry would get them both killed. She was preparing to force his hand, prove she was no weakling to be sheltered from danger when a change came over the Dauntless Vanguard. Though he still gripped her tightly, his running slowed and all color drained from his face. With wide eyes, he simply stared in horror. “...Can you stop it?” The whisper confirmed it for her: the Nightmare had planted its seeds of doubt and confusion in his mind. With a deep breath she placed the palm of her hand upon his breastplate, intent to cleanse the evil magics from his mind.
When she released the spell, however, everything went wrong. Garen would find himself free of the Nightmare’s malign influence but flying backwards in a shockwave of force as Nocturne himself sprang through his armor. Kiersta found herself face to ghastly face with his piercing gaze. Her spell spent, her bloodied arm was the only thing left between them. Time seemed to slow as the great scything blades loomed around her, gravity hardly taking its hold. “Die.” A word. A promise. A command.
Her body tensed as the blades began to contract, preparing for the end, but the blow did not land. In an instant, the Nightmare eyes flicked from delight to rage. “No... NO!” He roared as his form began to twist and warp. Frozen in place he began to dissolve away as his eyes bore holes of hatred into Kiersta’s form. By the time both Kiersta and Garen hit the ground, he was gone. Kiersa coughed weakly, the breath knocked from her for the second time. For a moment there was naught she could do but fight to breathe as her mind struggled to comprehend what divine providence had spared her life.
With a snap, sound would begin to travel as normal once more across the battlefield as the warriors realize their proximity. The fog would begin to drift away from the island, revealing all three vessels in the distance.
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Jan 7, 2014 23:40:15 GMT -5
There was a tightness in his chest that blossomed into pain as Jarvan IV found himself struggling to breathe. Hooves came down at him, and he rolled to the right. His armor scraped on the ice as Hecarim stamped down, the ice cracking under the force. He saw Hecarim's attention turn away, heard Xin Zhao yell. Looking around in the darkness there was no sign of his weapon. The unnatural light died out feet from him, and Jarvan IV struggled to his feet. He would be useless without his weapon. Where was it?
The sky opened up above him and soon the nightmare's spell was evaporating into the sea breeze. Jarvan IV saw his lance where it lay on the ice and put his arm out to it. He felt it pull on him until the weight of it was flying toward him, sliding until it lifted off of the ice and into his hands. The light was back.
Post by The Shadow of War on Jan 10, 2014 19:35:56 GMT -5
Though Hecarim was unable to witness exactly what happened he saw the darkness around him fleeing and automatically assumed the Summoner Nocturne had targeted had instead disposed of him, a rather unexpected turn of events. Though not as unexpected as what happened when the Centaur had brought down his mighty hooves upon Jarvan and found he had rolled out of the way.
His hooves sunk into the ice due to his previous call of flame he put on them and he found himself in a rather awkward position unable to properly continue his assault on Jarvan. He saw him somehow pull his weapon back to him and had his halberd ready as well as enough energy from the current battle for a counterattack with Spirit of the Dread if the cowardly fleshing had the nerve to continue their battle.
That is, if it weren't being interrupted currently by the Sensechal who felt that the prince was not man enough to stand up to the Shadow and assaulted his backside, further enraged by this he let the spirits of the dead rise near him in defense. If Xin wished to continue his assault he would feel his life slipping away, as well as Jarvan if he remained in the area, though this no doubt inconvenienced the prince he taunted him through Xin's bothersome attack.
Turning his head to the side he glared at Jarvan and boldly yelled "COME FLESHLING, OR DOES THE NIGHTMARE STILL HAVE TERROR WITHIN YOU?!"
The Ruined King stood his ground as Shyvana lunged through the darkness toward him, his armor still smouldering with heat from the burst of flame that washed over him. Flaming eyes unblinking stared at the half-breed.
Now within melee range, and being in such a large form, a cruel smile twisted his lips behind the helm, there was no way she could realistically evade the next two charges from his attacks. In quick succession his sword would create two arcs, from left shoulder to right hip than curving it upwards, two waves of dark magic would erupt from the blade and slice through the air toward Shyvana depleting the last of the charges within his sword, "Your rage will be your undoing, half-breed." His voice was cold and unwavering before the dragon.
The Half-Dragon almost instantly regretted her decision as she was struck twice by the twisted magic. Leaving deep cuts in her armor and some lesser in her chest. The taunting of the undead king, he was going to taste her full rage. Shyvana was going to melt him down and forge a new backscratching device she had seen some humans use. But the wounds that she had received hurt a lot more than Shyvana expected them to do, but the pain she felt was nothing compared to what the Shadow Isles had done to Demacia.
The darkness around them faded and Shyvana could see her enemy clear as day, backing up three meters to slowly walk in a circle around her enemy with her talons puncturing the ice. As the Half-Dragon circled around the Ruined King she looked for a place to strike at. "Rage? I will show you pure rage!" The Half-Dragon replied with her now distorted voice, she had found her spot. The Ruined King's power seemed to come from the blade, remove that and he'd be nothing more than a disgusting snack.
Shyvana lounged at the Ruined King with open jaws and would bite down across his arm if he did not move out of her way.
Post by The Ruined King on Jan 13, 2014 20:39:43 GMT -5
"And a thousand openings to go with it." The King simply stated once she had spoken, "Calm yourself, dragon. You're going to get yourself killed."
The turned as she circled him, they cyan orbs burning within his helm locked upon her, quietly studying how she moved. It was as though rage was the only thing giving her power at this point. A wave of disappointment washed through the King as he muttered to himself, "Nothing more than a child having a tantrum."
She was gravely mistaken, his blade held none of his power and was simply a conjured weapon. It only acted as a conduit for his initial attacks that he had launched, nothing more. In an instant, his form seemed to shudder as she lunge toward him, howls of the long since dead erupted from his form. Around him, the screeching intensified, ear piercing cries of anguish rocked forth as burning lights emitted from the black armor that encased him. His eyes flared brightly as extremely powerful necromancy poured forth.
"YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU FIGHT, DRAGON!" His calm tone from before shattered and replaced by a horrific distorted cry, he held out his arm as the Dragon severed it with her teeth, it was too late for her to retreat to a safe distance, the thick black necromancy tainted blood would now cake her maw, the half of the arm she had taken leaking the undead's blood inside her mouth. At the very least it would make her extremely ill once this ordeal was over. But for now, the Ruined King was unleashing a Tornado of Souls. Spectral faces of the dead, human, yordle, minotaur, female and male souls swirled and distorted around him, contorting and screaming to be released from the Shadow Isles bond, all tore around him in a vortex of necromancy.
Shyvana would feel her muscles unable to react as fast as they once had as the magic tore into her very life force and siphoned it into the King further fueling his power. "YOUR RAGE IS NOTHING COMPARED TO THE STRENGTH OF THE SHADOW ISLES! YOUR SOUL WILL BE TORN APART!!!
Tornado of Souls: A vortex of souls envelops the Ruined King, slowing all those around him and reducing their resistances. He begins sapping the life from his enemies with heavy amounts of magic damage and taking it as his own.
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 Kiersta Mandrake on Jan 14, 2014 7:50:51 GMT -5
Kiersta wrenched herself from the ice with as much haste as she could muster, her senses reeling from the fall. Had the summoners have rallied to capture the Nightmare so quickly? There were few magics capable of such a feat, and while she had brought more than a few powerful mages on the journey, none could have known to prepare for such a terror.
Her musing was cut short by the screaming of a thousand voices. Even as far away as she was from the King, she could feel the tormenting grip of the evil magic around her. It was as if she she had entered the presence of death itself. These were not negotiations. In the arrogance befitting a king of undeath, he meant only to destroy them from the start.
Kiersta began drawing power to herself while still upon her knees. There had been enough distractions, enough hatred in this farce of a peace negotiations. The League had agreed to mediate common ground for these warring states to discuss their terms, not to host a private battleground. The air was already crackling around her when the the Ruined King’s words reached her. Tear the soul asunder? No doubt he would try. Had he not learned before that the Institute had its teeth?
She raised her arms skyward, her own incantation cutting through the din of the dead. In the depths of the summoner’s vessel 20 voices joined in counterpoint. “You shall claim none today!” With clench fists, she thrust her arms downward, unleashing her power upon the undead king. The sheer force would fall upon the king like an anvil crushing his form halfway into the icy island. Yet even there it would not relent, pinning him mercilessly to the ground. With a violent hiss, the ice around him would begin to melt, giving way to the attempts he might make to find purchase. Unless he could make a compelling argument and quickly, the King would be taking the long walk home.
Post by Dungeon Master on Jan 14, 2014 18:10:45 GMT -5
The air filled with malevolent energy, and Xin Zhao felt his spirit tremble against the cold influence of the centaurs magic. Ghostly forms pushed around him, and Xin Zhao did as he had done before when facing Hecarim. He pushed back.
The Senechal's spirit had always been strong. He'd pushed through pain and fatigue countless times, pushing his body past its limits in the arena. His past life was a nightmare of despair that few fears could match. Xin Zhao pushed with his spirit and for a moment the shades seemed to rub against him without entry. That was, until a specter much larger than the rest reared up and plunged into him, passing through is chest with a wave of paralyzing cold. His left arm started to lose sensation, and Xin Zhao yelled against the shock of a familiar feeling.
His soul was shaken. It had been taken from him once, and given back. Something was wrong. He lashed out once more before jumping away from the Shadow of War. Had the connection between body and soul not fully healed? Xin Zhao shook his head as his vision came in and out of focus, raising his spear to guard. Perhaps this third life was more fragile than he had hoped.
He watched Hecarim and the Prince, unsure how to spend it.
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Jan 14, 2014 19:43:18 GMT -5
In the sunlight, Jarvan could see his enemy clearly. Through the spectral miasma that swirled around Hecarim, he watched his ally falter and pull back. Xin Zhao was impaired but The Prince could see no wound on him. These creatures were made of spirit energy and he cursed himself for trusting the protection of League summoners instead of bringing his own. He needed fire, lightning, and all manner of arcane destruction.
His chestplate bore a dark discoloration from the centaurs hooves and his lungs still burned with each heave. Deep breaths helped him normalize his respiration, and before Hecarim could push his attack on Xin Zhao, Jarvan moved to defend. He put The Senechal behind him, ready to trade blows with the half-man.
A tremor and a great crashing sound caught the attention of all three. There was a sound like great stones colliding, the twang of struck metal, and a high pitched, shattering crack that echoed out across the ice. The battle between Shyvana and The Ruined King had been reduced to a distant sound by Nocture's shroud. With the shroud gone they could see the dead king had fallen, or so it seemed. He faced his wraith-forged adversary with an snarling smile.
"FLEE FROM MY SIGHT OR I WILL SEND YOU BACK TO THE DEAD, WHERE YOU BELONG!"
Jarvan IV held his weapon like an ax, ready to swing.
Post by The Shadow of War on Jan 15, 2014 2:56:31 GMT -5
Needless to say Hecarim was pleased as he got the results he wanted from bringing forth his Spirit of the Dread and letting them handle Xin Zhao, though Hecarim didn't want that to be all the fool received for trying to cut in on HIS battle, no... now he had to feel pain like his dear Jarvan. With a surprising motion he tore his hooves out of the ice and allowed his red flames to dissipate as he brought them to Xin's chest as he let his spear strike his backside one last time and allowed him to slide across the ice leaving Jarvan and Hecarim alone once again.
Jarvan obviously didn't take wel to this, seeing as he moved to save his friend who ironically was trying to save him. Silly fleshlings and their sense of camaraderie the Centaur thought this was, he let out a manic grin full of spirit-fire as Jarvan ordered him out of his sight or HE would send HIM to death... the centaur would definitely show worry with a threat as powerful as that indeed, or rather... he would if the threat was actually threatening. Instead he just laughed and raised his halberd and sent a half heart single swipe at the prince. He was certain it wouldn't pose any actual threat, but the time he would be using to avoid it would let him get his next choice of words out clearly.
"You don't have what it takes to defeat me or even defend your allies! Your woman stolen not once or even twice but three time now, your loyal fighters brought to their knees by the terror of Nocturne and despite this you still believe you can win this? You are out of your league fleshling. And it is time I put you where you TRULY belong, under. My. Hooves." His words were cruel and obviously insensitive, but it was all to get Jarvan to act. He wanted him to feel as angry as he did previously and let rage overcome him and hopefully lash out wrecklessly, the difference between his and Hecarim's being obviously only one of them could feel true pain if they were cut or stabbed with simple steel.
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