Post by The Might of Demacia on Jan 15, 2014 12:10:34 GMT -5
As the shroud cleared, Garen's senses returned, as well as his focus. He was no longer agitated to the point where he was seeing horrific visions of his failures, and it seemed that the summoner he had tried to protect did some work. The sound of Shyvana's rage took his attention, and saw that she had attacked the Ruined King. Were they winning this conflict? Garen had no time to just sit and watch. The sounds of battle that rang from the Prince's area clicked into his ears, and the Might of Demacia rose from his kneeling position and rushed to Jarvan's side.
"And it is time I put you where you TRULY belong, under. My. Hooves." Garen heard faintly before he arrived on scene, but it was enough to deem Hecarim as a threat to the crown if he was to follow law enforcement protocol.
That couldn't happen on Garen's watch, now could it? He was sworn to protect the crown even if it costed his life. He was actually torn between helping Shyvana retreat from the Ruined King, but he knew Shyvana wasn't daft enough to let her rage consume her that it'd lead into her death. The moment he looked at the Prince, he felt courage. His shining example of Demacian courage rekindled the blown out candle within Garen's self from Nocturne's shroud, and he soon found his sword shining a bright gold. He had hoped his next move would provide an opening of some sort that the prince can exploit, and with a great heave, he shoved his blade into the ice below him so far that he had to kneel in order to not expose his back too much.
The sound of a distant boom from the sky was heard, as well as the whistling of the wind as it passed through the giant, magical blade falling down towards Hecarim's position. Garen remained kneeling, as if he was rooted there until the Might of Demacia (the sword) had made landfall.
Post by The Half-Dragon on Jan 16, 2014 5:32:10 GMT -5
The Half-Dragon ripped off the Ruined King's arm and moved back a bit from the enemy, a vile taste filled her mouth as his blood flowed out. The taste was unbearable, she dropped the arm and began to move away from him, her muscles were unresponsive and sluggish as she moved. Looking at him she could see the souls of the dead circle around her, tearing away on her own soul.
Shyvana knew she had to get away from him, she was no idiot. A loud crash was heard as the summoner released her spell upon the Ruined King behind Shyvana. The Half-Dragon continued to retreat from the undead king, his blood continued to torment her inside her mouth. Shyvana let out small brief blasts of fire to remove the blood from her maw. Once the Half-Dragon deemed herself far away enough from him she transformed back into human form, stumbling towards Kiersta she collapsed in front of Kiersta. Breathing heavily and crawling forward to Kiersta.
Shyvana was really wounded, but still alive. She was not going to die here, not now! She had to defend Jarvan and Demacia. The foul taste remained inside her mouth, it made her feel sick. Shyvana looked up towards Kiersta before her vision grew dark. "Stay alive Shyvana! You can do this! For Father, for Jarvan... and Demacia." Shyvana thought before her vision faded entirely, she was breathing slowly and heavily.
Post by The Ruined King on Jan 16, 2014 6:46:23 GMT -5
The Ruined King looked upon the Half-breed, she was finished. Nothing she could do would save her from the King and his power. Even now, new found strength flowed through him as the necromancy tore away at her being and gave her power to him. It was invigorating, the power of the half-breeds soul was strong! He felt he could shatter the walls of Demacia themselves with nothing but his fist! He prepared to advance upon the dragon as she retreated, she would slowly due to the affects of the tornado which only gave the Ruined King further advantage int his fight.
Yet he paused, he felt something in the air, a sudden charge of magic fluxing above him. Before The King could react, Kiestra called to him, he would claim none today. A sudden thundering crash snapped through the air, the ice below him caving in as a powerful force smashed him from above sending him waist deep into the ice that once supported him moments earlier. With eyes fixated upon his prey he brought his one good hand smashing into the ice in front of him in an attempt to stop himself from sinking further, but he knew the ice was conjured. His injured arm continued to drop the thick tar like blood into the ice, behind the helm his eyes were wide, wild and blazing with an inferno of cyan spiritfire.
The new found strength he had obtained from sapping the life from Shyvana could only aid so much against the powerful magic that still attempted to drag him further and further into the ice. The hand he used to stabilize himself began to slip, the ice around him beginning to melt. He hissed under his breath, his prey had run away with it's tail between it's legs, yet now he would be forced to end his assault because they would not allow the dragon to suffer for her mistake, "Hold your magic!" He growled, his gaze shifting from the now collapsed Shyvana to the Summoner, his powerful voice rolled across the ice like thunder, "I will cease my aggression..."
At this point the screams and howls of the dead had been silenced, The King's eyes filled with rage were locked upon Kiestra, yet he knew that there was nothing to do in this situation other than give in. It was either that or sink into the crushing depths below.
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 18, 2014 5:33:47 GMT -5
Chaos. Everywhere was naught but chaos. With the magic unleashed against the King, Kiersta had a moment to scan the grim battlefield. Where the half-dragon had come from was beyond her, perhaps a reserve kept on the Demacian vessel in case of trouble. It mattered not as her hulking form dragged itself from the fallen king. Teeth and claws dissolved away into the fire as she staggered nearer. The wounds upon her body appeared inconsequential, but there was no telling the full effects of the King’s dark magic.
Even as Shyvana collapsed before her, the Shadow of War stood alone in the midsts of three Demacian champions. Ever confident, he roared his insults into the wind, yet his focus on the Prince would prove his downfall. The Demacians fought as a well-oiled machine, their teamwork the key to victory. Not even Hecarim would be able to stand against their combined might, once the force of Garen joined the fray.
Kiersta placed a hand upon Shyvana’s shoulder, feeling the lifeforce that pulsed slowly within her. She would need true healing, but there was no time. With little more than a spark of energy to keep the half-dragon alive, she lifted her hand and strode forward, her focus upon the Ruined King once more. Of course he would struggle, but even royalty needed to understand the futility of strength. Thus confined, how could he hope to fight his way to victory?
At his word, she turned away, not releasing the grip of the magic that held him, but rather turning toward Hecarim. A shell of golden power sprang to life around him, halting his halberd mid-swing. The impact was paltry compared to the crushing strength of Garen’s will against the shield. There was no need for the Demacians to risk their lives in name of meaningless battle, “Disengage, Champions.” There was a dangerous coldness to her voice as she approached the undead king, the blood of her wounded hand smeared across her face from an ill advised attempt to wipe the sweat from her brow. Though the melting of the ice had ceased, energy still crackled around her blackening fingertips, “You wage war without reason, call truce without honor, spit in the face of those who would hear your demands… Give me a reason I shouldn’t sink you to the depths now.”
Post by Dungeon Master on Jan 19, 2014 15:18:28 GMT -5
Setting his feet firmly, Xin Zhao fought nausea and vertigo as his senses reeled again, slowly settling back to normal. It was like being drunk and concussed at the same time, and sweat beaded on his forehead in the cold air as he kept his balance. He was uninjured, his body unharmed in any way, and yet it was all he could do to stand upright. He was staring into the burning pits of Hecarim's helmet when The Prince stepped between them. A dry laugh escaped his lips.
I'm supposed to be protecting you.
The shattering sound of the High Summoners Strike resounded in his ringing ears, and he saw the Ruined King pressed into the cold ground as by a giant fist thumbing a seed into the earth. From behind The Prince, he saw the summoned shield close around The Shadow of War, and was only relieved. He took a breath and stood taller. The numbness was leaving his hands, and The Senechal let himself use his spear like a crutch. He didn't scream or try to cry out. Their argument was beyond him. He had one goal. If Jarvan IV could return safely, then the rest was unimportant.
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Jan 19, 2014 23:29:55 GMT -5
The combined strength of the summoners was enough to force the dead king's hand, but for Jarvan IV a truce was not enough. These loathsome beings had attacked Demacia without provocation, and attacked during a peaceful negotiation, and still the High Summoner offered them another chance. She should be crushing their leader into dust and scattering his followers across the water. Here was a chance to destroy the leader of Shadow Isles, whose commands had sent thousands of Demacians to their deaths, whose servants had abducted his wife.
The Prince fixed his eyes on Kiersta Mandrake, his eyes alight with vengance as his voice carried out across the newly made battlefield. "Summoner! These creatures died once before! Look what good has come of their return! They cannot be trusted!" The Prince struck his lance against the golden barrier around Hecarim, his face a snarl of contempt as the blow rang against a wall of magic. "Don't protect them from me." His eyes dropped to Shyvana, prostrate on the ground at Kiersta's feet, unsure if Shyvana was alright or even still breathing.
"Burn them from the world!", he screamed at her. "DO IT!"
Post by The Shadow of War on Jan 20, 2014 20:01:54 GMT -5
Hecarim let out a growl as the summoners magic halted him and proceeded to keep him from furthering his battle against the Demacian champions. Though he didn't care that things had been called off by his king now, obviously with the way these peace talks were being handled and Azazel's betrayal things could have literally only gone downhill from there, but the loss of Nocturne was what would eventually bother the centaur the most at the end of the day. He had brought the creature to their ranks from the midst of Demacia during a casual slaughter, and now he was gone. On top of that the Spider Queen had seemed to be missing in action as well during these events, and now here he was in a magic bubble being snarled at by the prince of the spoiled fleshlings... what would he do now?
He simply laughed at Jarvan as he attempted to attack him in his protected prison and awaited for the next words from either his king or the summoner, only at that point would he cease his mocking laughter.
Post by The Half-Dragon on Jan 21, 2014 18:46:00 GMT -5
Shyvana continued to struggle with her breathing when she felt Kiersta's hand upon her shoulder. "S-s... summoner..." The Half-Dragon managed to get out as she felt tired. The wounds of the battle had taken it's toll on her, but what had drained her the most was the soul magic she had been attacked by.
Suddenly breathing got easier and the summoner's hand left her shoulder. Had she died? No, her wounds still hurt and the feeling of the tainted blood in her mouth disgusted her still. She was alive, barely but more alive than dead thanks to Kiersta.
Post by The Ruined King on Jan 25, 2014 21:15:57 GMT -5
"Sink me and a last chance at ceasefire plummets with me." The Ruined King growled, by now the thick blood had mixed in with the melted ice causing dark clouds to form in the liquid around the undead creature. Even missing an arm, beaten into the ice by unseen forces his voice still rocked like thunder when he spoke, "Do not sink me, and, without Demacian interference, we can discuss the terms in which those under my rule will cease open hostile acts on those you protect."
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 29, 2014 21:11:48 GMT -5
Kiersta’s scowl only intensified at the champions’ clamoring. Her fingers struck outward, the violent gesture leaving a thin splattering of blood across the frost. A thunderous crack drowned out even the Centaur’s laughture as the ice lurched, then split down the center, thin fountains of ocean water spraying upwards as it rushed to fill in the void. The rift ran directly between the Shadow of War and Prince of Demacia, such that Jarvan would be forced to disengage, or risk falling through the widening chasm.
“End him like you ended the Chain Warden? These are not beasts for you to crush and be done with. If you wish to help your people, return to them. Find your wife. This mockery of a ‘negotiation’ is over.” She nearly spat the word in disgust as she turned away. Two summoners exited the belly of the summoners’ skiff, each masters in their healing arts. Kiersta beckoned them forward, indicating the hostilities contained. Neither Centaur nor king were addressed, contained in the limbo of their mistakes.
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Jan 29, 2014 23:20:06 GMT -5
Cold spray flecked his armor as Jarvan VI stepped back to find his footing. The ice was rough, thick, and the separating quickly. He swore to himself there would be repercussions for this audacity. It was time to leave, but the gesture was ill received. She'd separated him from his enemies, and from his allies. Shyvana was lying on the ground with only the gentle rise and fall of her breath showing she still lived He took in the situation all in a moment, yelling to his people on the other side as the fissure widened. His voice cut through wind, the clamor, and the resonating sound of magic that hung in the air.
"GAREN, GET SHYVANA. SUMMONER, KEEP YOUR ADVICE AND HEED MINE. I HOLD YOU RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR SAFETY. DON'T FAIL ME. THIS IS NOT OVER."
He turned to Xin Zhao, who had fallen to one knee in the tremors of the ice flow's division. With relative ease he lifted the man to his feet and draped him over one shoulder. He watched across the ice as he moved back toward the Demacian vessel. He gave direction to the others with him, telling them to pull back and ready to cast off from the ice, all the while keeping eyes on the remaining souls on the ice, and their movements. Sure, he'd go, but only so far. If she intended to take any of the Shadow Isles creatures into her possession he wanted to know it.
He wanted them destroyed, disintegrated, and their ashes scattered to the four corners. Perversions like this, feeding of the misery and death of others, should be condemned to oblivion. She refused, and maybe she was unable, but he realized it was pointless to hope. Captured, the Institute would simply pull them back into the fold. They were fond of their membership, content to forgive the unforgivable in exchange for service. The concept was not foreign to The Prince. He wanted his people returned to him.
Post by Kiersta Mandrake on Feb 5, 2014 2:07:29 GMT -5
Kiersta turned from the fight with clenched fists. It was arrogance, nothing but pure and simple arrogance. Did the Demacians truly believe that they could overcome this threat with force? Had they learned nothing from the rune wars, nor the twenty years of tenuous peace under the League’s banner? Sparks crackled around her sleeves, now soaked in drying blood and charred beyond repair. When pure, they were a symbol of elegance and enlightenment, a guarantee that battle was not her intent. She sighed as she opened her palm, the tension vanishing in a flash of blue light. Perhaps it was all truly a dream. Without force, men’s vicious and wanton desires would never be held in check. Pain demanded pain in return, and blood yet more blood. How could knowledge ever stand in the way of that cycle?
She knelt at Shyvana’s side without acknowledging Garen directly, a blue aura of magic enveloping them both. The half dragon’s injuries, despite her valiant spring to action in her countrymen’s defense, were the result of Kiersta’s negligence, “Do not move her yet, Crownguard. Her wounds are more severe than they might appear.” Her voice was worn. It carried not the strength of a leader, but the regrets of a woman aged. If just for a moment, with her concentration was elsewhere, the cracks of her persona began to show.
With both hands, she traced a symbol into the air, until the completed spell hovered just above the half-dragon. Almost instantly she grimaced against the pain, her strength flowing away in a steady stream. Both summoners arrived and stood on either side of the wounded. A quirked eyebrow of concern was the only indication that they gave her before raising their hands toward the task of healing before them. Kiersta simply shook her head: it was only fair that the protector of these talks feel every tinge of the healing while her summoners worked.
With the wounded dealt with, Kiersta ground her teeth together and stood once more. It was time that the Undead be dealt with. A wave of her hand dispelled the barrier that held the Shadow of War in place, but he was not the target of her attention. Silently, she approached the Ruined King where he wallowed in a pool darkening with his own ichor. “An unprovoked assault upon Demacian lands. A blatant disregard for the terms of a cease fire.” The points would bear repeating. The king had proven his own word meaningless. “What terms could you possibly have to offer?”
Post by The Ruined King on Feb 10, 2014 5:04:04 GMT -5
The Ruined King looked to the summoner as she spoke to him, the eyes that had been ablaze with cyan fire earlier now simply smouldered softly behind his helm as he reigned in the anger that was boiling beneath the surface. His one hand dug his fingers into the blackened ice creating large gouges, "Set me free from this prison, and I will speak of the terms I can offer you."
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 Exemplar of Demacia on Feb 22, 2014 12:00:53 GMT -5
The vessel HMS Temper swung slowly to the north, close reaching sails reefed in the growing wind. The captain stood at the helm, where The Prince watched the emissary of the League, Kiersta Mandrake, negotiate with the being of malicious power that attacked them mere minutes before. His hands gripped the railing of the stern deck as the crew managed with a restless hum of activity to guide their ship slowly closer to the Institute of War vessel. Despicable, the lengths they will go to for peace, even with the guilty. Some things are unforgivable.
There was little he could do. The ship had cannons, but he wouldn't even arm them. Everything lay in the hand's of this woman, including the lives of two people not only important to Demacia, but dear to its prince. He watched the negotiations as much as he watched them, allowing himself a breath of relief when the emissary knelt to address Shyvana's wounds.
Xin was being taken care of, but Jarvan IV knew the healers he had with him were outclassed by wounds that had no visible signs, and no physical symptoms. Whatever could be done for Xin Zhao would need to be sought from The College of Magic. As soon as they were back in the city he would have the Senechal brought there for whatever care they might give. For now at least, reports told his condition was stable.
He had instructed the captain where to anchor, and the officer suggested the bearing that would allow them to depart as quickly as possible. A glance put the rest of his champions into view, still on deck. They had been cut from the battle, then the negotiations, and now relegated to spectating. He peered out at The Ruined King, wishing the creature would simply slip from the ice to the depths below. He had no expectations, only a strong suspicion that what followed would be a mistake, or an utter waste of time.
Post by Kiersta Mandrake on Mar 2, 2014 10:19:22 GMT -5
Kiersta grimaced as the deep wound across Shyvan’s chest began to writhe with life. To heal naturally was a challenge of enduring discomfort, but as the summoners accelerated the body’s capabilities, the tender flesh screamed out in agony and protest. Kiersta bore the pain as her own even as she bartered with the man who inflicted it, a harsh reminder of his cruelty and unthinking violence.
“Release you?” She waved her blood-soaked left hand in the air dismissively, only to frown at it as she noted the tattered condition of her ritual robes, “I’ve made no demand that you remain in that hole. Yet if you insist,” She turned toward the hulking figure that remained wary of the periphery of their conversation. The Shadow of War was never to be forgotten, particularly in the face of dire circumstances. “Hecarim.” She addressed him with dignity despite clearly stepping over the bounds of the Ruined King’s authority, “It would appear that your king is in need of assistance. Would you lend your Halbred?” The message was clear: the League may respect might of the Shadow Isles, but it did not fear to work with it. Any semblance of the king’s authority hung in the balance of the Shadow of War’s response.
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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